#Disintegration by the Cure is also one

[lucy-is-bored]

just had a horrible awful vision of a fake Dr who episode where a one-off character bled out faintly singing life on mars by David Bowie after having a 10 minute conversation with (???) imaginary companion about his dreams to open a shop selling 70s music.

[wintrwinchestr]

strangers | part 1

summary: following in the footsteps of a girl you once knew, you decide to up and leave home one morning without looking back. when you find yourself to be tired, hungry, and alone in the middle of nowhere, you're thankful when a kind stranger offers you a ride, a warm meal, and a place to sleep for the night. he only tells you about himself in bits and pieces, but he seems trustworthy enough, and what you don't know can't hurt you, right?

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, talk of death/murder and blood, mommy & daddy issues, brief talk of domestic violence, lying/gaslighting, manipulation, f-receiving non-con somnophilia (no sex, but groping, fingering, dry humping, kissing, and choking), degrading language toward victims, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart), some joel pov, no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, takes place in illinois/ohio/indiana, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, this part is mostly introduction/storytelling/yapping, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 9.8k

a/n: i started this as a oneshot way back in november, and then it sat abandoned for a very long time. thank you to my lovely friends @polaroidpascal and @chippedowlmug for encouraging me to finish it, and also bestie kiers who never hesitates to match my freak. also thank you to the many writers who made me feel inspired to write something dark and not give a fuck what people think about it. i hope you enjoy this joel he's a freak and i love him and if you say anything mean about him i'll send him after you <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 2

Ruby Carpenter.

You had spent all day trying to remember her name without really knowing why. Maybe it’s because as the sun sets on what would be the first day of your junior year at the nearby state school, you wonder if she ever made it to one of the fancy ivy leagues she had always aspired to attend. You wonder if she’s even still alive.

Ruby had disappeared a few years ago now, the summer after your senior year of high school. For nearly a year afterwards, her missing posters remained stapled onto every telephone pole and stuck onto every store window around town, until the paper began to disintegrate and the ink began to fade. In that time, you couldn’t even make a quick run to the grocery store without being confronted by dozens of replicas of her yearbook photo printed onto the sides of all the milk cartons. Despite all of the efforts to find her, including several search parties and a decent amount of statewide media coverage, everyone had just stopped looking for her, eventually. Even the police. Even her parents.

It was decided that she had probably just run away, and you can’t entirely blame her, but you can’t imagine why she would, either. You remember her perfect head of blonde ringlet curls that shone a yellow gold in the sun, and her bright blue eyes that turned fiery in her more passionate moments during classroom debates. She had every boy in your grade wrapped around her finger, was the teacher’s pet in every class, and it wasn’t even a question whether she would win prom queen your senior year. She was always sweet to you, always complimented your outfits or your makeup or your art projects with a genuine lilt in her voice and a kind smile, so you could never bring yourself to hate her even though it would’ve been so easy to. You figured she was going to cure cancer or become the president after you had all graduated, which is why you never really stopped wondering whatever happened to her that summer. She was beautiful, with boundless potential and a bright future ahead of her, why would she have just given it all up?

Everyone around town knew Ruby, or at least it seemed that way. But maybe nobody ever really knew her as well as they thought. Maybe she’d had a secret boyfriend all that time who whisked her away that summer, maybe she had decided to try drugs and fell down a rabbit hole that she couldn’t claw her way out of, maybe she had finally figured out that the only thing this town would ever be good for is holding people back. Maybe she did just wake up one day and decide to run without ever looking behind her.

Maybe you should do the same.

With your dad long gone now and your step-father doing a piss poor job of filling in the hole he left, following in Ruby’s footsteps has sounded like a better idea with each passing day. Rob isn’t even really your step-father, anyway, just your mom’s sorry fucking excuse for a boyfriend. The guy’s already been married upwards of three times before, why try for another one? He’s a lazy son of a bitch who can’t hold down a job at a fast food joint for more than a couple of weeks at a time, who sleeps every second of the day that he’s not chugging through a six pack, and who leaves marks on your mother uglier than his fucking face. 

She doesn’t deserve to be treated that way, of course, but it’s not like she’s winning the “mom of the year” award any time soon, either. She’s never even been nominated. She’s forgotten just about every one of your birthdays, been the reason you’ve never had any friends come over, and in her most recent offense, blew all the savings you had put away for your last two years of college. Which is why you’re not spending tonight celebrating being one year closer to at least having an official-looking piece of paper to show for yourself. Instead, you’re using the rattling of your bedroom window unit and the booming bass of your radio to drown out yet another drunken screaming match between your mother and the guy she lets live in your house now, watching the world outside pass you by and knowing that if you don’t do anything about it now, you’ll never make it out of here. You’re thinking about Ruby Carpenter, hoping she found somewhere greener and more promising and was able to make something of herself, far away from here. And you’re thinking that this rusted orange sunset is the last one you’ll ever see from your bedroom window.

It’s decided, then. You’re leaving, first thing tomorrow.

—

You’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep by the time your alarm clock chimes to life at five o’clock on the dot. You’re quick to silence the shrill beeping with a swift swat of your hand, careful not to wake anyone else in the house. The sun has just barely begun to stream in through the blinds of your bedroom window, but it illuminates the room just enough for your eyes to land on the backpack you had stuffed full of a few changes of clothes last night, waiting for you by the door. 

You don’t waste any time stripping off your pajamas and pulling on just about the only clothes left in your room that aren’t in your bag. You’ve got your teeth brushed, face washed, and hair tamed in all of about ten minutes, too anxious to spend even one more unnecessary second in this house. You swing your backpack over your shoulder, pull your bedroom door open at just the right speed so that the hinges don’t squeak too loud, and tiptoe delicately down the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards that you know like the back of your hand—the one three steps from the top, the one at the landing about halfway down, and the very bottom one.

You land softly when you leap over that tattletale bottom step, successful in the most difficult part of your escape plan so far. Rob is passed out on the living room couch in typical fashion, his mouth full of crooked teeth hanging open as his grating snores permeate the calm morning air. He’s still got a death grip around an empty beer can, even in his sleep, and your mother will likely be the one to toss it into the trash for him, useless fucker that he is. You aren’t going to miss either of them, and you imagine they’ll just skip trying to replicate the first half of the aftermath of Ruby’s disappearance altogether—no posters, no search parties, no police. You’ll just be gone, one less mouth for your mother to feed. Though, you’d been mostly feeding yourself since you were tall enough to slide a couple of bills across the counter at the corner store down the street, anyway. You’re ready to disappear, the same as candle wax when it burns, the same as the end of a rainbow, the same as Ruby Carpenter.

You don’t bother looking back when you shut the door behind you, content to leave it all behind just as the sun begins to rise and set the sky ablaze. By the time it sets again tonight, you hope to be in a different county, in a different state, anywhere that isn’t here. The rest, you’ll just have to figure out when you get there, wherever “there” may be.

—

You had only realized about an hour ago that you’d forgotten your cheap digital watch in the drawer of your bedside table, where it’s laid unused for the past couple of months, because who needs to tell time during the summer? You never had anywhere to be, never had to get to class or turn in a paper by a certain time, so it’s just been collecting dust since you had unclipped it from your wrist on the last day of spring semester. It sure would have come in handy right about now, when you have no fucking clue what time it is. The sun had disappeared behind the hills several mile markers back, so it must be… eight o’clock? Ten o’clock? Fucking midnight? You have no idea. What you do know is that you’re exhausted, hungry, and your feet hurt like hell. You aren’t really sure what you expected, the reality only just now setting in that you don’t even have ten bucks to your name anymore, thanks to your narcissist of a mother. The crumpled up bills you do have in your pocket are hardly enough for a goddamn sandwich, let alone a motel room. The cool night breeze raises goosebumps on your skin, and you swear you can see your fucking breath, even in the middle of August. You wrap your arms around yourself just as tears begin to prick at your waterlines, and you let them fall as you collapse onto the scratchy patch of dead grass on the side of the freeway, not a park bench or a bus stop or even a gas station in sight for God knows how many more miles.

You sit cross-legged, elbows propped up on your knees so that your hands can support your weary head, the skin of your palms becoming slippery with salty tears as your crying just doesn’t seem to stop. The road you’ve found yourself on seems relatively low-trafficked, the heaving sounds of your sobs accompanied by more cricket chirps and rustling wheat than rumbling tires. But a few high beams do streak across your vision every once in a while, coloring the backs of your eyelids a flaming scarlet.

After several minutes, your tears seem to dry up on their own, your body likely too dehydrated now to produce any more. You wipe the moisture from under your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffling as you gnaw at the skin of your bottom lip and debate if you should just turn back now, give up on your stupid little plan (or lack thereof) and just call the whole thing a loss, pretend it never even happened. Your mother and Rob won’t have even noticed you’d left.

Just as you pull yourself back up to your feet, set on at least finding somewhere that isn’t the hard ground to sleep on tonight before you make your way back home tomorrow, the warm headlights of an old pickup truck are shining bright in your eyes. You put your arm up to block them as the truck slowly squeals to a halt in front of where you’re standing, and you squint your eyes at the driver as your vision adjusts.

“You need a ride, sweetheart?” A man asks in a gravelly voice, and you can still hardly make out what he looks like. Based on the southern accent you pick up on, he doesn’t sound like he’s from around here. 

“N-no, thank you. I’m okay,” you respond shakily, taking a nervous step back from the stranger and his rusted pickup.

“You sure? Looked like you were cryin’ over here, like you might be lost or somethin’.”

“‘M not lost, I know where I’m going.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s that?”

Shit. 

You take a guess.

“Um… the motel down the road,” you reply, tilting your head in the direction you had been walking in.

“There ain’t a motel down there, sweetheart. Ain’t nothin’ in either direction for miles, ‘s all just farmland out here. Reckon you’ve already figured that out, though.”

You pause, unsure of what your next move should be. He knows you’re lying, knows you’re alone with no fucking idea where you are or where you’re going. You could run, but even that shitty truck of his could catch up to you in a matter of seconds. You take another step back, swiveling your head around to look up and down the road as you try to figure your best way out of this.

“Just lemme give you a ride somewhere, darlin’. There’s a diner just off the exit, ‘bout twenty miles up ahead. Could take you that far, at least, get you somethin’ to eat,” he offers. A warm meal does sound pretty good right now, and you suppose you aren’t exactly in a position to refuse his help.

You think on it for a second. “What’s it called? The diner.”

The stranger huffs. “Moody’s.”

“What do they have?” you challenge.

He sighs. “It’s a fuckin’ diner off the side of the freeway, darlin’. They got greasy food and black coffee, ‘s about all you need.”

You don’t say anything.

Then, after a beat—“They got some kinda sloppy mess they call the Thunder Burger. ‘S got onion rings and shit on it. Ain’t half bad.”

You have to admit, he’s passing your pop quiz with flying colors. His answers have been too quick, too specific for him to be lying to you. There’s a pretty solid chance this diner does exist, and that he��s been there before. The man hasn’t said anything that’s indicated he wants more to do with you than to offer you a ride and some dinner. He’s probably just somebody’s harmless grandfather, anyway, judging by his motheaten flannel and gray-stricken beard you can see now that you’ve approached his truck a few paces closer.

“Okay,” you concede, your stomach growling loudly as the man leans over the bench seat to pop open the passenger side door for you. You shrug off your backpack and climb into the cabin, clicking your seatbelt into place as you situate yourself on the cracked leather seat. 

“All set?” the stranger asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, finally getting a better look at the man you might just owe the rest of your life to after tonight. For being somebody’s grandfather, he’s… kinda handsome. Really fucking handsome, actually, in a rugged sort of way. He’s got warm amber eyes that sparkle even in the dark of night, a kind smile that completely disarms you in an instant, and a splintering scar across the bridge of his nose that somehow only adds to his good looks. You try to suppress your own grin as you look away from him quickly, opting to focus on fidgeting with one of the fraying edges of your denim shorts instead. Even in your peripheral vision, you don’t miss how his eyes shift from your own to the exposed skin of your thighs. He doesn’t say anything, just clears his throat as he shifts gears and steers his truck back onto the road again. 

He lets the next few minutes pass in comfortable silence before asking, “You got a name, sweetheart?”

You tell him, and he flashes another charming smile at you. “I like that, ‘s pretty… Well, I’m Joel. Sure you were wonderin’. Now you ain’t gettin’ a ride from a stranger no more, are ya?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m not,” you giggle, and you’re surprised at how comfortable you feel with him. “So… you’ve been to Moody’s before?”

“Handful of times, yeah. When I’m passin’ through.”

You nod. “So you come up here, like… for work or somethin’?”

Joel chuckles. “Or somethin’. You never even heard of the damn place, so… reckon you don’t find yourself out here very often, do ya?”

“No… ‘M not even really sure where ‘here’ is, to be honest. I just kinda… started walking.”

“Ah… a runaway, then, are ya?” Joel asks, with an appreciated amount of understanding in his tone rather than judgment. “‘M sure your folks are missin’ ya right about now, must have your boyfriend worried sick.”

You scoff at that. “Fuck no. They probably don’t even know I’m gone, won’t even bother trying to come look for me. And I don’t have a boyfriend, so…”

“Damn shame. ‘M sorry about that, sweetheart,” Joel comforts, placing a large calloused hand on your thigh. It makes your breath hitch, but his touch isn’t entirely unwelcome. You let him squeeze once at the plush of your leg before he replaces his hand on the wheel, and your cunt spasms out a little fluttering pulse against the seam of your shorts, despite yourself.

The rest of the drive to Moody’s is relatively quiet, save for the gentle crooning of an old country singer emanating from the cassette player on the dash. The soft singing and steady strumming of a banjo combined with the muffled chugging of the truck’s engine is enough to lull you to sleep, especially after the day you’ve had. You know that just about every mental alarm bell you have should be screaming at you to jump out of the car, to run, that sleeping alone in the dirt would’ve been a better decision than getting into this strange man’s—Joel’s—truck, but you’re too tired to hear them. He smells good, like woodsmoke and pine and cinnamon, and if he wanted to do something awful to you, he probably would’ve done it by now. So you trust him, for now at least, and let your lashes fan out against your cheeks as your head falls back against the cushioned headrest, coaxed into sleep by the lullaby of tires against pavement and fingertips against guitar strings.

—

You only rouse when you feel the truck come to a stop about half an hour or so later, slowly blinking your eyes open against the bright neon sign that reads “MOODY’S” in bold capital letters. Your jaw stretches wide as a yawn overtakes the muscles, and you hear Joel’s southern drawl replace the one from the cassette as he shuts the engine off.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead. Not too tired to eat somethin’ now, are ya?”

Another unpleasant-sounding rumble from your empty stomach answers for you, loud enough for both of you to hear this time. The air puffing out of the diner’s kitchen smells strongly of fatty bacon and rich coffee, just like Joel had promised you the place would offer. Although the digital clock on the dash read just after 10:30 before you fell asleep, you’ve never craved breakfast quite like you do right now. You absentmindedly lick your lips as you imagine the sweet and savory—and more importantly free—meal that could be waiting for you beyond that blinding beacon of a sign.

“Well, alright then. Let’s get some food in ya before you keel over, hm?” Joel says as he exits the truck, landing on his feet in the dirt parking lot with a soft groan. He waits by the hood for you to meet up with him, and you walk up the couple of steps to the entrance together. He holds the door open for you, and you offer him a shy ‘thank you’, to which he responds with a soft spoken ‘welcome, sweetheart’. You stand shyly behind his broad form as he asks the hostess for a table for two, and she leads you to a green leather booth tucked into the corner of the diner. She hands each of you a sticky laminated menu, the pages a charming mess of clashing colors and faded pictures and retro-looking fonts, then departs with a promise that your waitress will bring the two of you some water as you take your time deciding on what you might like. 

You light up upon reading that Moody’s serves breakfast all day, and that they can make you exactly what you were hoping for—a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with sides of bacon and hashbrowns. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you wiggle in your seat, excitedly anticipating the waitress to come back around so you can order.

“Whatcha so excited about over there?” Joel asks, eyeing you from across the table as he glances up from his own menu.

“Nothin’, I was just hoping I could get some pancakes, and they have ‘em on the menu,” you explain giddily. “I’ll probably get some coffee, too, really complete the whole ‘breakfast for dinner’ thing.”

Joel huffs through his nose. “Decaf, I hope. ‘S the middle of the goddamn night, sweetheart. Gonna be bouncin’ off the walls in the room later, hardly get any sleep.”

He’s right, you suppose. But wait—“What room?”

Joel shrugs casually. “There’s a decent motel another exit or two down, figured they could probably get us a couple o’ beds for the night. But, ‘m sorry, shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No! No, it’s okay.”

Is it? You only met the man less than an hour ago, and you already agreed to let him give you a ride before you even knew his name. You suppose you hadn’t really thought about what would happen after he bought you dinner, but not thinking ahead seems to have been a theme today, hasn’t it? You remind yourself that he’s only been kind and respectful to you so far, save for that placement of his hand on your upper thigh soon after he picked you up. But that could’ve just been a friendly, paternal gesture, right? And he said a couple of beds, when he mentioned the motel, which seemed to imply that he plans on the two of you sleeping in separate beds, maybe even separate rooms. You’ve found yourself having to make yet another somewhat reckless decision tonight, but one that would be in your best interest to say ‘yes’ to, at this point. What other option would you have if you declined his offer?

“Don’t really have anywhere else to go, so… yeah, okay. Motel sounds good. And decaf it is, I guess.”

Joel’s apologetic expression quickly morphs into a satisfied smirk. “Good girl,” he praises. You like how the words sound coated in his thick drawl, even though you probably shouldn’t. You shift where you sit as that familiar fluttering sensation returns to the seat of your panties, just for a moment. You’re grateful that the waitress arrives at the booth not a second later, cheerily introducing herself as she sets down a glass of water for each of you. When she asks if you’re ready to order, Joel gestures to you as if to say ‘ladies first’, and you politely prattle off your request. You make sure to emphasize that you’d like your coffee decaf, and ask if she could please bring some more of the little cups of vanilla creamer to the table. “Not a problem, honey,” she replies, and Joel winks at you as she asks what she can get for him. He orders the Thunder Burger he had told you about earlier, and a black coffee, which he doesn’t request to be decaf. The waitress leaves the two of you alone again with an ‘I’ll have that right out for ya,’ and you let your eyes follow the calming baby blue color of her dress as she glides her way back to the kitchen. When she disappears around the corner of the bar, you take the opportunity to study Moody’s other patrons. There isn’t another young person in sight, mostly just men around Joel’s age with similarly heavy bags under their eyes, likely truck drivers indulging in their first hot meal of the day within the diner’s comforting wood-paneled walls. You wonder if that’s how Joel knows about this place, because he “passes through” this area on long hauls across the midwest. You open your mouth to ask him if your assumption is correct, but he cuts you off before you can say anything.

“I gotta admit, sweetheart, I’m curious… The hell was a pretty thing like you doin’ out in the middle of goddamn nowhere tonight? I mean, I know you’re a runaway ‘n all, but… shouldn’t you be one o’ those college party girls or somethin’? ‘M sure you got plenty of friends wonderin’ where you are.”

You sigh, shaking your head as you distractedly pick at a splintered piece of wood at the edge of the table.

“I was in college. Was supposed to be going back again this year, but… my mom spent all the fucking savings I had left for the rest of it on fixing up her dumb boyfriend’s car. It’s just been sitting in the fucking lawn all summer, sure as hell not being used for something useful like going to the job he doesn’t have. That bastard…” You say the last part under your breath through gritted teeth.

“Shit… Tha’s a tough deal, baby, ‘m real sorry to hear that,” Joel comforts. “But y’know, everybody’s got mommy ‘n daddy issues, don’t mean you just up and start walkin’ all by your lonesome, not even have any idea where you’re goin’.”

“Well, it wasn’t just that. There was… nevermind, it’s stupid.” You slump into the cushioned booth, silently cursing yourself for even bringing it up.

“What is it?” Joel pushes, sitting up straighter to show you that he wants to listen, wants to get to know you. And God dammit, he might be the first person you’ve met in a long time who actually seems to care about what you have to say, as strange as it is. You flick your eyes up to his face, and he’s wearing a sincere gaze that convinces you to continue.

“There was this girl I went to high school with. She disappeared a couple of years ago, nobody ever found out what happened to her. People figured she probably just ran away, and I thought… I dunno. That maybe she had the right idea, leaving that place behind. I always held onto this hope that maybe she was still out there somewhere actually doing something with her life, that maybe she just changed her name or something and disappeared on purpose.” You pause. “I guess I just thought I might be able to do the same, if I left.”

“I see…” Joel muses sympathetically. “Maybe I oughta give you a lil’ more credit, then. Must’a been tough losin’ a friend like that, not knowin’ where she ended up.”

“I mean, Ruby wasn’t really my friend. She just—”

“Hang on. Ruby, you said?” Joel interrupts, his eyes suddenly looking a little wild.

“...Yeah. Her name was Ruby. Ruby Carpenter.”

—

Fuck.

Joel has to adjust himself under the table, his dick now hardening uncomfortably in his jeans at just the mention of her name. He remembers Ruby, remembers chuckling to himself when he realized the irony of her name matching the color of her blood, remembers watching the news coverage of her disappearance in this very same diner, those handful of years ago. She was a sweet thing, he remembers this, too. It was a shame she had ended up being such a fighter, that she had to get put down the way she did. But she shouldn’t have thrown that fucking rock at his face, called him a sick fuck and a freak as she made her pitiful little escape attempt. Joel is lucky that all he came away from it with is that ugly little scar that mars the bridge of his nose. He can’t say the same for her.

“Why? You heard her name before?” You ask him, an unfortunate little twinkle of hope in your eyes.

“Maybe.” Yes. “Sounds a lil’ familiar, might remember hearin’ about it on the news or somethin’.”

That goddamn news coverage sure as hell taught him a lesson. Joel had spent months trying to keep the cops off his fucking tail after he had dumped her body on some forgettable patch of land behind an old decaying barn. He had even gotten pulled in for a fucking interview at the station in what he now presumes to be your hometown, where they had questioned him for an hour or so about her disappearance. He still isn’t sure how he talked his way out of that one. Ruby might not have been good for much else, other than pissing him the hell off with all of her pathetic crying and begging to just please, please let me go back home, but she did help him perfect his craft, he can give her that much. It’s because of her that Joel makes certain now that any girl he picks up doesn’t have anybody who will miss her or plaster her face on every local channel or send out goddamn search parties to find her. Girls like you.

You’re just so perfect, it would be so fucking easy for him to make you disappear for good, it’s almost comical. It had hardly taken any convincing at all to get you to climb into his truck, had taken even less to get you to agree to go to some seedy ass motel with him that might not even exist, for all you know. It does, but you didn’t even try to test him about it this time, just put all of your trust in him like a stray puppy would to the first person to pick it up off the street. That is just about what you are, he supposes. So far, you seem like the perfect candidate to become his little captive pet. If you keep it up, maybe you won’t meet the same fate as the rest of them. He’d told himself he’d be done after the last one, anyway, his body too old and achy and slow now to chase after the ones who put up a little more fight, like she had. She’d nearly escaped, made it a decent way through the woods and almost reached the main road before tripping on an exposed root and snapping her ankle. He remembers how weak and scared she’d looked before he’d used his knife to put her out of her misery, and it makes his dick twitch. Joel doesn’t plan on snuffing you out, not right now at least, since you haven’t given him a reason to. But his fingers still twitch where they rest on the table, moving out of instinct as he can’t help but imagine what they’d look like wrapped so tightly around your little throat. Would you cry? Would you beg? Would you pray? Would he have to glide his blade across your vocal chords just to get you to stop screaming so fucking loud? He wonders.

“Oh… Was that one of the times you were just ‘passin’ through’ for whatever reason you haven’t told me yet?”

Joel hadn’t realized that his eyes had been unfocused for so long, or that he’d been holding his breath, or that his hand had been squeezing his glass of water so hard he’s glad it hadn’t shattered. The airy sound of your voice brings him back to reality, and he huffs a light chuckle as he fixes his face into a more pleasant expression. 

“Yeah, ‘spose it was.” 

You roll your eyes at him playfully. “Come on, Joel. I just told you, like, my whole sob story. I feel like I deserve to know at least one thing about you now.”

You have a point.

He gives in. “Fine. I got a brother, used to come through this area when I’d pay him a visit. That good enough for ya?”

You cross your arms. “No. What’s his name?”

“Tommy.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Like me. Little younger. Little uglier.”

You laugh at that.

It makes Joel smile.

Maybe you could be the one he’s been looking for all this time. Too bad he had to waste so many others before he finally got to you.

—

The waitress comes back to your table soon after that, with your steaming plates of delicious-smelling food and hot mugs of coffee balanced expertly on a large plastic tray. She sets them down in front of the pair of you with a cheery smile, and you thank her happily when she doesn’t forget the extra sickeningly sweet cups of creamer you had requested. Joel doesn’t take his eyes off you once during the interaction, not even to feast his eyes upon the monstrous burger now sitting before him, not even as he thanks the waitress for delivering it to him. His lingering gaze makes you feel a little warm, but it could just be from the heat radiating off of your plates.

“What? You’re not getting a bite of mine, if that’s why you’re looking at me,” you tease, already getting to work putting the sugary creamer to good use.

Joel just shakes his head, his caramel colored eyes still never leaving you as your coffee begins to resemble their hue. “No, ‘s not why.”

“Whatever,” you reply through a giggle, making a poor attempt to hide your girlish grin behind the lip of your white ceramic mug. 

The two of you eat your meals in relative silence, mostly enjoying each other’s company and basking in the relaxing ambience created by silverware tapping against porcelain, hushed conversations, and the local country station playing through the old radio sitting on the counter. The reception is a little spotty way out here in wherever the hell you are, so you can’t quite tell what song it is. But Joel seems to know, judging by the rhythmic bouncing of his knee under the table that creates little circular ripples in your coffee. Maybe you’ll ask him what it is later, how he knows it, if you can listen to it again in the truck together. He doesn’t seem to be as much of an open book as you’ve already given yourself away to be, and you respect that about him. It doesn’t make you any less curious, but you resign yourself to getting to know him better in the small doses he’s willing to offer you. 

You decide to begin a mental list of all the things you want to ask him later, knowing that by the time you make it to the motel tonight, you’ll be far too exhausted to do anything more than just collapse onto the springy mattress and sleep until you get kicked out of the room the next morning. You almost wish you hadn’t listened to Joel’s request for you to take your coffee decaffeinated tonight, and you still aren’t quite sure why you did. It just feels so strangely easy to give into him, to trust him, to let him make decisions for you. You suppose that’s what you’ve been needing all this time, someone to guide you and understand you and at least pretend like they care about you. Joel has shown you more concern and care and protection in the last hour or so than either of your parents have pretty much your whole life. And he’s good at this, making you feel wanted, making you feel like somebody, even in subtle ways, just by looking at you.

“A’right, why don’t you finish up, darlin’, ‘n we’ll hit the road again. Practically usin’ your pancakes as a pillow over there.”

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize sleepily, waking yourself up enough to make quick work finishing off your plate and your last few sips of coffee. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, sweetheart. Lord knows you need some rest, won’t be too much longer now,” Joel assures, fishing a few tens out of his faded leather wallet and placing them on the table. He slides to the edge of the booth and stands himself up with only a few pained noises as he straightens out his back, then offers his hand for you to take. You use it as leverage to pull yourself upright, and your hands linger in each other’s hold for a few seconds longer than they need to. The hostess thanks the two of you for stopping in when you pass her by, and Joel opens the door for you again as you leave Moody’s. He opens the truck door for you, too, and promises you that the motel is just another couple of minutes down the freeway. You make an effort to stay awake in your seat this time as Joel begins the drive, opting to gaze out the window and focus on trying to make out the sparkling constellations above the treeline. You smile privately at the moon when you find that she’s following closely behind you just as she always does, bright and full. 

She doesn’t leave your side until you reach the unassuming little roadside motel, which to your gratitude, proudly displays their vacancy on the flickering sign in the parking lot. It doesn’t look like a five star joint by any means, but you know it will serve its purpose just fine. Joel instructs you to stay in the truck while he goes about getting a room for the two of you, and you don’t object. He’d insisted that you didn’t need to be on your feet any longer than you already had been today, and you were too tired to argue with him even if you wanted to. When he returns, he taps lightly on the passenger side window so as not to startle you from the half-asleep, half-awake state you’ve found yourself in, and swings your backpack over his shoulder as he helps you out of the truck. He leads you to the room at the end of the row, and the door takes some finessing of the key and a shove of his shoulder to open. Joel flicks on the light, and you let out a disappointed-sounding ‘oh…’ when it reveals your accommodations.

There aren’t two beds like you had assumed Joel was going to request. There’s only one.

Joel catches your reaction. “‘S this gonna be alright? I know it ain’t the Ritz Carlton, but—”

“No, the room’s fine, it’s not that. I just thought… I just assumed that… I didn’t know it was gonna be, like… just the one bed.” You try to explain your discomfort as gently as possible, without seeming ungrateful for everything Joel has done for you tonight.

He looks at you sympathetically. “I know, I ain’t tryin’ anythin’, I swear. Guy told me it was the last room they had, jus’ figured it was better than nothin’.” 

You offer him a soft smile, but your eyes must still look a little wide as you begin to nervously pick at your fingernails. Joel continues, “I can take the chair if you want, darlin’. Get the bed all to yourself, how’s that sound?”

You visibly relax at that, your shoulders deflating as your smile becomes a little more genuine. “Okay, that’s good. Thank you.”

“‘Course, sweetheart. How’s about you take a nice hot shower, rinse off some o’ that dirt you picked up from walkin’ all day… Don’t suppose you got some suitable clothes in here for sleepin’ in?” Joel asks, handing your backpack off to you.

You shake your head. “Just some jeans and t-shirts, and another pair of shoes. And… y’know, some underwear, and stuff.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, then rubs his fingers across his forehead exasperatedly. “I swear… it’s like you didn’t think there’d be a tomorrow or somethin’, girl. Christ.” Joel looks out the window to his truck parked just outside. “Tell you what, think I got somethin’ in the truck you can wear. Why don’t you see if they got anythin’ on the TV tha’s worth a damn, ‘n I’ll be back, alright?”

You nod, “Okay,” then set your backpack down on the drab carpet in favor of picking up the remote perched in front of the small square television. You sit yourself down on the edge of the bed as Joel leaves the room, and begin to flick through the few channels that aren’t just a screen full of snowy static.

Local news. Commercial. Game show. Commercial. Documentary. Commercial. 

Eventually, you land on what seems to be one of those old black-and-white western shows that you can never remember the name of. You only know that the reruns used to play on Sundays around lunchtime, because Rob would always be half paying attention to it with a beer in his hand when you and your mom would get home from church. For how adamant she was that you attend every weekend, she sure never called him a harlot and a sinner for not wanting to go with her. You’re not sure she had ever even tried to get him to go, but he probably didn’t own anything decent enough to wear, anyway. Whatever, fuck them. The show seems like the kind of thing Joel would like, so you let it keep playing. 

He comes back a moment later with a small stack of folded up clothes, tossing them over to where you sit on the bed. You unfold what he’s given you and examine them—a pair of simple pink cotton shorts, and a white tank top with a ditsy floral pattern scattered across the fabric. The clothing is a little more revealing than you’d like, but you figure you’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable wearing them to sleep than the denim shorts you have on now.

“These are… great. Thank you, Joel. But…” you snicker. “Should I be concerned that you have a very convenient supply of girls’ clothes in your truck?” Joel scoffs. “‘S for when I got Tommy’s kid with me, smartass. He’s got a daughter, few years younger ‘n you.”

“Okay, well, I dunno how I was supposed to know that, but… as long as you don’t have a girlfriend who’s gonna come after me for wearing her clothes.”

Joel only chuckles in response, his attention suddenly pulled to the TV.

“Gunsmoke, huh? ‘S a good choice, definitely what I’d classify as ‘worth a damn’.”

You smile to yourself, and his approval makes that warm fluttery feeling return to your belly. “I didn’t even know what it was called, just seemed like something you’d like.”

He turns back to you. “That obvious, huh? ‘S just ‘cause I’m old and southern, ain’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit, making a pinching gesture with your hand.

Joel nods as he makes his way over to the armchair on the corner of the room, collapsing onto it with a groan. “Well, why don’t you go ‘n get yourself all changed and cleaned up, ‘n if you’re quick enough maybe we can finish the episode together and then get some shuteye, hm?”

You swiftly unzip your backpack to retrieve one of your clean pairs of underwear, then bound over to the small bathroom with them and your new change of clothes in hand. It’s not the most spotless one you’ve ever had to use, but you’ve honestly seen much worse. You rinse off quickly in the steaming shower, using the scratchy motel-provided washcloth to scrub the dirt from your legs, stuck to you with the sweat you worked up from God knows how many miles of walking today. 

Today. You can hardly believe it hasn’t even been a full 24 hours since you left home yet. It seems like you’ve already known Joel for days, maybe even years, as silly as it sounds. You wonder if he might just take you in after this, or if he’ll have had enough of providing for you after just one night. He seems like a man of limited means, and he’s already given you so much. If you’re brave enough, maybe you’ll ask him tomorrow, when you get to the ‘so… what now?’ part of your time together.

For now, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off with an impossibly scratchier towel, then pull on your panties and the tank top and shorts Joel provided you with.

Jesus, how much younger is Tommy’s daughter?

The shorts just barely cover your ass, and there’s a sizable gap between their waistband and the bottom hem of your top. The thin, white material of the shirt only serves to accentuate the way your nipples poke through the fabric, but you suppose there isn’t anything you can do about that.

You quietly crack open the bathroom door, and are somewhat relieved to find that Joel’s already fallen asleep in the chair. You do wish you could’ve finished the episode of Gunsmoke with him, but the end credits seem to be rolling already anyway, and you’d rather avoid being seen in your very ill-fitting pajamas. Although, you do wonder if he’d say anything, or if he’d just let his hungry gaze linger in silence again, holding himself back from touching you beyond a comforting pat on the thigh.

You pick the remote up off the bed and use it to make the TV screen sizzle to black, then tip toe over to the lightswitch by the door and turn it off, the room now completely shrouded in darkness. Joel snores softly from the chair as you blindly feel your way back over to the bed, pulling the covers back and nestling yourself underneath them. The bed is surprisingly comfortable, considering, and it doesn’t take long for your exhaustion to catch up with you. Your thoughts become slower and slower along with your breathing, and you’re asleep not even five minutes after your head hits the pillow.

—

The last room they had, yeah, right. You’re just the most pathetic little thing, aren’t you? You’ll believe just about anything that comes out of his mouth if he turns up the ‘southern charm’ dial a few ticks, throws in a feigned apologetic-looking expression for good measure. It’s sad, really. For you, anyway.

Joel fakes his snoring for another thirty minutes or so, until he’s certain you’re sound asleep. He had heard your breath even out almost immediately after you had tucked yourself in, but he had chosen to lay in wait for a little while longer, just to make sure you wouldn’t put up too much of a fight when he made his move. You don’t seem like the type, considering how you’d hardly argued with him at all tonight, like when he had convinced you to forgo the caffeine with your dinner. There’s a reason he wanted you sleepy and subdued tonight, but you didn’t know that. Joel likes how well you listen to him, how easily you do as he asks.

He also likes how warm you are, how small your body is compared to his own, the difference in size especially prominent now that he’s laying snugly against you, his front pressing firmly into the back of you. You don’t wake from his lumbering movement, only coming to slightly when you feel his arm slide underneath your body, his warm hand snaking its way beneath your tiny shirt to squeeze at your plush tits. 

You mumble out a little “Hm?”, which he’s quick to quiet with, “Sorry, darlin’. Chair was too hard on my damn back. Just go back to sleep, ‘kay?” That chair felt like laying on a goddamn cloud compared to some of the other surfaces he’s found himself having to sleep on before, but again, you don’t know that, and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. You probably won’t even remember this in the morning, how his hard cock is slotted so perfectly against your ass, especially without the confines of his thick jeans holding him back. They’re discarded onto the floor now in front of the armchair, along with his flannel shirt and jacket. Joel holds you tightly against his bare, hairy chest as he circles a roughened pad of his finger around one of your nipples, smirking to himself at how quickly the bud hardens from his touch. He knew you wanted this, and the wet spot that the fingers of his other hand are teasing in the gusset of your panties is proof of it. How long have you been leaking for him like this? Had you been soaking the seat of his truck earlier today? Filthy thing.

You still don’t rouse when he pulls your panties aside and slips a finger inside your slick cunt, or when his grip on your tit loosens in favor of sliding up higher under your tank top, his hand coming to a rest around the base of your throat as he pumps his finger in and out of your tight heat. It would be so fucking easy…

But he can’t, he won’t, because you’re not like the others. You want to get to know him, you let him take care of you, you seem to like his company, and you don’t leap out of bed and call him a fucking perv and a dirty old man for what he’s doing to you. That’s what the others would have done. It’s what they have done. And they faced the consequences.

But you’re different. You’re not like them. You’re like him. A lost soul, that’s what you are. Nowhere to call home, no one who misses you or loves you or gives a damn what happens to you. Joel’s mouth had tasted bitter when he had told you about Tommy, or rather, lied about him. Joel hasn’t seen the fucker in years, certainly doesn’t pay him any visits or watch his brat, not since Tommy had learned the truth. You better not show your goddamn face around here ever again, you understand me? Tommy had spat at him. You’re fuckin’ sick. Only reason I don’t turn your ass in myself is ‘cause you’re my goddamn brother. But if I ever fuckin’ see you again, I won’t hesitate. Better make yourself pretty fuckin’ scarce ‘fore I change my mind. That might’ve been about the only time Joel had ever taken orders from his little brother. 

That bitter flavor is cut by the sweet tang of you that he tastes on his finger now, so young and eager and fresh. The hand around your throat squeezes a little tighter, and Joel’s hips begin to move against your ass as he allows himself to suck wet kisses onto the skin under the hinge of your jaw. Softly, gently, so as not to wake you. He could come just like this, using your pliant body in your sleep, rutting himself against your still form with the taste of your pussy on his tongue and his fingers pressed against your pulse points.

He’s close when you stir again, making broken hiccuping sounds as you choke on your breath.

“Shh, shh,” Joel soothes. “You’re alright, sweetheart. ‘S just me. Just—fuck—hold still, go back to sleep, baby.” You let out a quiet whimper, squirming against him just a little bit, but return to your unmoving and silent state a second later. Joel finishes himself off quickly with another couple of shallow thrusts against you, his large hand still gripped around the column of your neck, trying to stifle his groans as he spills into his briefs. He removes his suffocating hand and keeps you pressed tightly against him for a while after that, tanned arms wrapped around your waist and breathing in your scent as he waits for you to settle back down. 

When he’s sure he won’t disturb you again, Joel releases you from his hold and pads quietly back over to the armchair, redressing himself and resuming the position you had left him in. In the morning, if you do remember any of it, you’ll just chalk it up to a very strange dream, one fueled by the desire he knows you’ve felt towards him since he picked you up. You’ll be left with a strange assuredness that he feels the same way about you, without really knowing why. 

But Joel will always know.

—

The digital clock on the nightstand only reads around 8:00 when you’re awoken by a beam of sunlight shining brightly against the backs of your eyelids, streaming in from the window’s lopsided blinds. You had gone to sleep with your back to Joel, but you find yourself facing him now. He looks kind of peaceful when he’s asleep, that permanent furrow etched between his brows finally smoothed out as he dozes. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, but they fall quickly when you adjust your legs and feel the cool dampness against your core, the sensation bringing back the memory of the dream you’d had last night. 

It had felt so real, but it couldn’t have been, could it? There’s no evidence that Joel had really laid next to you last night, that he’d really touched you like that, that you’d wanted him to keep going. It must just be some kind of strange side effect of the affection you feel toward the man who had rescued you, more or less. You’ll likely just part ways after today, anyway, so it’s probably best to just try and forget about the whole thing, put on a fresh pair of underwear and pretend it never happened. 

Joel is awake by the time you’re done freshening up in the bathroom, and he greets you with a raspy ‘Mornin’, sweetheart’ as you retrieve your backpack from next to the bed and shove your ruined underwear into the bottom of it. “You get some good sleep last night?” He asks, rubbing a hand over his eye.

“Mhm, the bed was nice, more comfortable than the one I had at home, honestly.” You finish zipping your backpack closed and sit back down on the bed, pulling on some socks and the lace up sneakers you had been wearing yesterday. “I hope the chair was okay, like, for your back and everything.”

“What makes you say that, baby?”

You pause in the middle of tying one of your shoelaces, turning to look at him with a confused pout. “Didn’t you…? I thought you had told me something about how the chair would be hard on your back. Like, last night.”

Joel frowns, shaking his head. “Don’t think so, darlin’. Chair was just fine.”

“Oh… Well, that’s good.”

Maybe it had just been a dream, then.

Joel hands you a few bills from his wallet, and tasks you with getting the two of you some breakfast from the gas station across the street while he cleans himself up. He tells you that he doesn’t eat much in the mornings, but that you can get yourself whatever you want, as long as you bring him back a carton of cigarettes and a black coffee. You obey eagerly, retrieving what he asked for and getting a pack of miniature powdered donuts and an equally as sugary coffee for yourself.

He’s just stepped out of the bathroom when you return to the room, and your face feels hot when you see him with his dark hair slicked back and wet from the shower. The few strands that fall onto his forehead as he laces up his boots almost make him look a little boyish, despite his whitened temples. 

“Such a good girl, thank you,” Joel praises when you hand him his items. 

You respond with a shy ‘You’re welcome’, but he doesn’t miss how you seem to light up at his words. You plop yourself down onto the worn-in chair that Joel had used as a bed last night, happily munching on your gas station donuts and sipping on your coffee. It all makes you feel warm from the inside out.

But you figure you should find out what the rest of today might look like before you let yourself enjoy the beginnings of it too much.

“So, um… We’re just gonna check out this morning and then… what?” 

“Whaddya mean, baby?”

“I mean… are you just gonna, like… take me to the nearest bus station or something?”

Joel’s confusion is written all over his face, embedded deep into those lines between his brows. You could swear he almost looks a little hurt. “Why would I do that? ‘S that what you want?” He asks softly.

You try to backpedal a little, afraid you might’ve offended him or seemed ungrateful in your question. “I just thought it might be what you want. That you probably have somewhere else you need to be, like Tommy’s or—”

“No, I don’t,” Joel says definitively.

You pause. “Okay, so—”

“You ever been to California?”

His question stumps you for a moment, seeming so random in its nature. “No.”

“You want to?”

You shrug. “I mean… sure. Maybe someday—”

“Why don’t you come with me then, baby?”

You let out an awkward giggle. “...Come with you where?”

“To California. Come with me.” Joel’s tone is genuine but firm.

“Like, today? Are you sure?”

“I mean, we ain’t gettin’ there today, darlin’. But yeah, I’m sure. We both got nowhere else to be, do we? So let’s just go, we’ll see it together.”

You beam up at him, realizing that he’s being serious. Joel does want you, wants you to be his companion, maybe even something more that you’ll discover on familiar-looking back roads and in cities you’ve only ever seen pictures of. 

“Okay,” you agree excitedly. 

Joel nods. “Okay, then. Lemme go check us out ‘n we’ll get back on the road again. Burnin’ daylight already,” he jokes. He carries your backpack out to the truck for you, setting it down between your feet after he opens the door and helps you inside with a stable hand. It only takes a few minutes for Joel to hand in the room key and pay for the night, and then he’s back at your side. You begin to feel like that’s where you always want him to stay. 

“So, where to first, baby? California ain’t goin’ anywhere, can take as long to get there as we wanna. We’ll go wherever you like, take your pick.” Joel leans across your body to dig a folded up map out of the glove compartment, handing it to you. 

You examine it, your eyes darting across the dozens of dots with the names of cities next to them, some you’ve never even heard of. You point to one that you have heard of, but have never been to, because you’ve never even left the state you grew up in before.

“Um… how about Detroit? I’ve heard it’s nice, I think.”

Joel belly laughs at that. “It ain’t, but sure. You wanna go to Detroit, that’s where we’ll go. Buckle up, baby,” he instructs, patting your thigh. You oblige, and it feels good to finally know where you’re going, and that you’re going there with someone who cares about you, who feels safe, who wants you around. You also feel a little hopeful that maybe you were right about Ruby, after all. That you didn’t start walking for nothing, that you weren’t following some childish delusion, that if something as good as Joel had happened to you when you left, that maybe she had found herself on a similar path, ran into somebody good who took her wherever she wanted to go and helped her find someplace she belonged. Maybe she found her way out to California, eventually. What you are certain of is that neither of you ever have to go back to that town ever again, and that feels good, too.

And if it feels good, then it can’t be bad.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[kyseya]

Once upon a time

‘Prince’ Yandere x reader

Imagine a reader in modern day society. She lives in a normal little town, went to your average school, lives in a normal house and has your everyday friendly neighbours. Like I said, her life is nothing out of the ordinary.

She feels lucky to have so many kind people in her life. Everyone knows everyone and isn’t afraid of lending a helping hand whenever someone is in trouble. The town is on the smaller side but very cozy. They have their own traditions like the annual Christmas market or the summer fundraiser. Nice stuff like that.

Everything is simply perfect! Or…well it would be if not for one tiny detail.

Unfortunately there’s one guy who just can’t seem to take a hint. Reader feels kinda mean thinking of him as a stain on the idyllic life she’s built. She doesn’t understand why he can’t take a ‘no’ for an answer. Everyday this hunk of a man walks right into her workplace like he owns the place and demands reader’s attention. With the way he’s acting you would think he’s dying and reader’s attention is the one and only cure.

It’s not like he’s ugly or anything, but a guy who doesn’t listen is just a 🚩

That’s not even the worst part. Another big issue is his…delusions.

Like, one time when reader was walking home she decided to stop by the market square since she needed some groceries. And guess who was in the middle of the square, somehow managed to climb onto the water fountain and proudly shouting at the top of his lungs? Part of reader’s soul disintegrated that day. What in the world was he doing!? He didn’t seem to be embarrassed either. No, with his nose pointed upwards he said he was going to reveal a big secret about the whole town. Silence filled he air, everyone was curious about what he was about to say.

What was this secret? Had someone committed a grave crime and was about to be exposed? Thoughts like that circled in everyone’s mind. Their imagination came to life and dreamt up various scenarios to what the deal was. People anticipated something foul, raw and sinful only to be met with grave disappointment.

You see, the man had suddenly declared himself as royalty in front of an entire audience. He claimed that the whole town was under a spell and had forgotten about their origins; being fairytale characters. And right now, only he was able to remember the truth. Alright, what the hell? That was ridiculous. What made it worse was the fact that he appointed himself as the towns prince and leader. Yikes. He said most- if not all- of the citizens where peasants and therefore his subjects. That’s why the had to listen to him from now on.

Reader wanted to peel off her skin and scream in that moment. The secondhand embarrassment was too much.

Bringing down shame upon yourself and your ancestors was one thing, but did he have to drag reader into it?? He claimed she was also royalty and should be treated with outmost respect. Why? Because he’s her husband! Of course his spouse need the 5-star treatment as well.

After the painful incident he’s always stopped by her workplace to talk her ear off. No matter what she said or did(or how much others complained) he never left. At least not permanently. In rare instances he did go with a downcast expression but he’d always be back full force the next day.

The man tells reader about the wonderful life they were going to have. If only the curse wouldn’t have been placed and they’d all been transported to the world they currently live in. It pains him so to know she’s forgotten all about him and the great love they shared. But it’ll be alright. After all, they found each other again and he refuses to let go.

Reader only half listens(he will throw a tantrum if he realises she’s not paying attention to him) as he drones on about how they first met in the forest. Of course he found her by hearing a wonderful song travel through the woods, he followed it all the way to her. They danced together and met every sundown from then on. It was so romantic. It’s impossible not to roll your eyes at the cliche imagery, it’s just so corny.

Yandere ‘prince’ also demands reader to refer to him by his royal, ‘real’ name. It’s not his real one, it’s something else. Everyone knows that- except him, apparently, since he refuses to respond to it. If you do use it, he’ll ignore you and pretend you didn’t speak at all. It’s very tiring, more so since he tries to enforce this delusion onto reader. He also won’t use her actual name and instead settles for this medieval one. Apart from that, he calls her ‘love,’ ‘darling’, ‘my heart’ and other cutesy nicknames that are far from appreciated.

It doesn’t matter what reader says, he won’t stop.

He insists he wants to be her saviour again. Sadly for him there is nothing to protect you from except the occasional spider that makes its way inside your house.

‘Well, it’s better than nothing.’ He would say before smacking and tossing it out.

He is willing to do anything for his lover. And that really does means anything. Nothing is off the table. It wasn’t before and it definitively isn’t now simply because of some lame curse. It can’t keep him form his soulmate.

He was your prince before, he’ll show you that he still is.

———————————

[This is kinda based of Once Upon A Time, though it’s been ages since I watched it. ]

[orchid-merryweather]

My brain: be normal be normal be normal be normal be normal this person could be your friend don't fuck it up please be normal

Me: so yeah in world war one soldiers couldn't see the faces of normal watches when in the trenches when it got dark so there were watches made with luminous paint so they could see the numbers. The problem was that this luminous paint was made from radium and they were all hand painted, and the painters who were all women because all the men were at war had to use these special brushes when painting that had a superfine tip but to keep the tip pointed they'd have to point the brush with their lips and what that means is that they put the tips of the brushes in their mouths and by doing that they all ended up injesting some of the radium. The radium then got deposited in their bones and made them horribly sick, like their jawbones started disintegrating in their mouths and when that caused them to lose teeth the wounds from the lost teeth never healed properly and then would get infected and they also got tumors and they lost a bunch of weight and became really weak and all kinds of horrible things because of radiation poisoning. At first nobody thought that this could've been from the radium because it was believed to be a kind of magical cure all. And when some people started to suppose that it could be related to the radium many people didn't believe them and those of the women who were still alive and well enough and brave enough to try to earn compensation for their illness faced an extremely hard time. They were viewed as greedy liars and were shunned in their communities for it and when a doctor of the girls said that the condition of radium poisoning was fatal and without any cure the hearing had to be halted because one of the girls just about fainted in the court room. Eventually these girls were lucky enough to win their case and they were compensated for their illness and doctor visits and that some of them had to pay nannies because they were physically unable to care for their kids, some of the girls managed to live happy lives after this despite their condition but one of them died pretty much directly after she was informed that they won the case. Other women that sued their employers for them having gotten radium poisoning were given compensation so little that it was insulting and others didn't even win their cases or settle out of court and they got nothing. This was when workers protection and compensation laws didn't do anything and those of the women and their lawyers that got compensation had to fight tooth and nail to get anything. And many of the women died without ever knowing what was wrong with them and getting misdiagnoses ranging from doctors doing their best with what information they had and diagnosing them with phosphorus poisoning to downright insulting and absolute preposterous diagnosises of syphilis. These women were in some places called ghost girls for the way they literally glowed when they left their jobs because of the radium paint and radium powder they ended up covered in, the nickname "ghost girls" ended up having a different meaning though, because of what the radium poisoning did to their bodies. There are/were also more widely called the radium girls because obviously of their relationship with radium and I read this book about them and

[cherryredstars]

Hi! I’ve been following you for a while, not so long, but for a while, and I just wanted to say I am absolutely in love with your Miguel fan fics. Especially the one that stars female!miguel in too, absolutely love it. I have a little request of my own, but if you feel uncomfortable with this one no need to do it🫶🏻.

So, I basically just wanted a hypersexual!reader x Miguel. I personally suffer with hypersexual disorder to my own reason. I’m not sure how to explain what hypersexual is, so you can just search it up (sorry!!😭)

I kinda want it to still be apart of spiderman arc (Miguel is still spider man 2099 and reader is also spider women/man)

Miguel can find out reader is hypersexual by her/him file or smth like that, I’m not sure how to explain it😣

If you feel uncomfortable by this request, no need to do it and no pressure :)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider gn!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut, Reader is Hypersexual, Genital Examination, Mentions of Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, and Sexual Fantasies

Summary: Miguel has always been good with examining disorders.

A/N: It’s okay anon!! I already know what hypersexuality is because samesies!!!

Word Count: 615 (Not Edited)

He knew. 

He practically knew everything with his discovery of the multiverse and LYLA by his side. So it didn’t surprise you when he had cornered you, questioning you about the hypersexuality notes in your file. It did leave you embarrassed, a stuttering fool with blazing cheeks and a tongue that couldn’t articulate anything. He had asked you if it would affect your performance, if you’d be too distracted to be on the field. You had hastily disagreed, assuring him that you’d be at peak performance on any and all missions you’d be on. He left you with a grumbling, ‘I’ll make sure of that’ and a flashing visual of his rough body pressed against yours. 

You had never imagined his I’ll make sure of that would be him dealing with it personally. Physically. Before every mission you went on. 

Everytime he pulls you into a lab, pressing your front down on a lab table as he performs his…examination. His chest pressing against your back, your suit pooling around your ankles as his hand slips between your legs. His hand, large and rough, cups you entirely, massaging your throbbing sex. Soft whines and moans escape you as his hands get drenched with your arousal. It's sticky, staining your skin and making squelching noises that make you embarrassed. Everytime you try to squirm away, he grunts and presses you harder against the flat surface, mumbling something about not being done. 

He continues his examination, fingers touching and massaging every part of your sex. He takes extra care with your slit, pressing his fingers to it until you're whining and on the edge of release. Some days, he lets you finish and others he edges you until he gets bored. But his examination is never the end of it. He always presses more into you, his hard erection pressing to your bare ass as he whispers into your ear. 

Tell me. Tell me what sick little fantasies your dirty mind thought of today. 

And as per routine, you do. In a whimpering and needy voice, you list out all the thoughts you can remember as he hums absentmindedly. He always tsks when you're finished, cooing about how he needs to get rid of those thoughts before you can be cleared for duty. His suit disintegrates, leaving him naked and twitchy behind you. His erection is always rock hard and swollen, throbbing against your ass as he preps your hole. He swears he’s your miracle cure, the only one that can help you momentarily stop those thoughts and keep your body satisfied. He drills it into you, syncing each word with a thrust that blurs your mind. 

He’ll spend all the time he has before you have to go running through your list of fantasies, leaving each one fulfilled or until you’ve cummed so much that you have nothing else to give. And even then, if you’re still greedy and not fully satisfied, he’ll continue to play with your body. He plays with your sex, drinks up your arousal until he swallows it down, or continues his numbing thrusts until your body is a shaking and unstable mess. And, when you’re satisfied, when all thoughts are erased, he’ll pull away from your body. His suit reappears as he helps zip up yours. 

When the both of you leave, he pressed up right behind you, whispering in your ear how he’ll see you for your next check up. And your mind drones on and on about the new fantasies and scenarios, your body becoming insatiable again. 

You always seem to be in need of an examination sooner rather than later, and Miguel is always prepared to administer them.

[venusandsaturnsrings]

you roll his hands between your own, playing with the metal joints connecting his fingers as he looms above you with a self-satisfied grin. rouge dusts your cheeks from the handful of drinks you’ve shared with the cowboy between flirtatious remarks and subtle physical intimacy. but now, he’s got you against the wall as he purrs something about how pretty you are in the dim and grungy bar lighting. you’re quickly giggling in response with one hand coming to rest on his chest as you bat your eyelashes playfully, telling him he’s a real sleaze for buttering up a taken women though you’re taken by him. boothills gently twirling your hair around, kissing the strands as sweet as his next words, “let me take you in another way.”

then you’re stumbling down an alleyway laughing as he expertly shoots bottles off ledges and kisses each bullet, for you, of course. the ground is wet beneath your shoes and you know very well scrubbing off the mud will prove to be a pain but you also know nothing cures pain quite like a single look at the cowboy who’s got you wrapped around his steel finger. he’s tugging you through winded pathways, twirling you under street lamps, and kissing you behind dumpsters like it’s the most romantic thing in the world and it really is when it’s him. he’s got you under one arm when he pulls you back into the dingy motel, the receptionist glaring at your three in the morning rowdiness but boothill has you convinced an extra hundred or so credits in the morning will patch that dented relationship.

you’re inside the room, back against the door as he plays with the hem of your shirt when your tipsy mind mumbles it playfully. it’s meant to be a joking jab at his protective yet playful demeanour, one that plays off of cheesy lines you’ve heard in bad adult movies or between a pair of lovers that’s a bit too hands on and slimy in public. it’s nothing tainted with malice or meant to slice open stitches made by inexperienced hands but, his reaction is immediate.

“c’mon, don’t play around with me daddy,” and he locks up before jolting away from you like a hot iron. it catches you off guard and all you can do is blink as boothill stands stiff and plainly hurt. you’re confused but stutter out an apology laced with hesitation and the delicacy of snow. but he stares. he stares and doesn’t speak a word for what may as well be hours in your formerly-tipsy-now-painfully-sober mind. then he swallows and turns around, headed for the crooked sliding door that leads to what can’t be an inspector approved balcony. he leaves the door open and you’re not sure you should follow till he takes of his hat and looks back, almost pleading.

there’s no chairs and you’re sat on the dirty wood next to him in silence. boothill moves to push back his hair uncharacteristically exposing both eyes when he finally looks your way, something heavy weighing in them. you’re pretty sure he’s going to ask to break up when he starts spilling apologies and faux curses. he sighs, and you think it’s coming, but then the story starts. you’d never heard about his life before the wanted posters and galaxy ranger status but he’s throwing it all on the table, every card, chip, and eye exposed, when he tells you he had a daughter. not one by blood but one he loved all the same, one he mourns for in words he’ll never be able to write and you try to understand. it’s not easy work but you’re pulling his head down onto your shoulder and he’s going through the motions of what should be crying but without the tears and you’re kissing his knuckles like he might disintegrate.

he doesn’t blame you. not even a little bit. but it’s sore and raw and he can’t help but feel; you’ll never tell him not to. though it’s not much, you pull boothill back in the room and promise a better future while making a mental note to commission an artisan for a decorative bullet with her name. you fall asleep together with clothes not even changed but hoping someday you’ll be able to ease all his pain.

tomorrows a new day and that’s where you’ll start. together.

[yogurtverse]

List of things in JoJo's Bizarre Adventure that have actually happened (mild spoilers for part 7 and 8 if you care)

• A major plot point is foreshadowed by a man having four testicles.

• Two guys start what is basically a magic CIA investigation after a guy gives them suspiciously good tasting water.

• Said guy actually has an extremely powerful healing ability that just makes the healing process look super fucked up, and can cure basically anything but just uses his ability to make really good Italian food.

• A man falls under a spell that turns him into a dinosaur, which he can then permanently control after he gets Jesus Christ's eyeball shoved inside of him.

• A god tests his new abilities by turning his hand into a squirrel which he then effortlessly kills an entire legion of Nazis with.

• A man is quizzed on Weird Al trivia to prove he isn't possessed by vampires.

• A guy blows himself up, straight up disintegrates and comes back. The only explanation given is 'German science is the best in the world!'

• A woman uses her magnet powers to make two men look like they're having sex in public.

• 3 guys do a hypnotic dance to a severed head as an interrogation technique (the head is still alive) (this works)

• A main character melted and readers went eight real world months without knowing what happened to him (the melting wore off in the sewers)

• The main ability of one of the villains was to remove your powers and memories in the form of discs, which kills you incredibly quickly. He can also put a CD inside you and turn your dying body into a CD player.

• Two of the main villains elite guards were so bad at their jobs that the heroes didn't even know they were being attacked. (People also say this arc predicted 9/11)

• A man survives having a dozen knives thrown at him at once by lining his pockets with books in case this exact thing happens.

• A guy randomly gains coloured lips mid-fight and the only explanation is that he uses his time manipulation abilities to put on lipstick secretly.

• Two different characters do this btw.

• A main character that's just a sentient colony of plankton.

• A villains ability basically boils down to 'if you think about hurting me reality itself will kill you'

• There's a guy who's power looks exactly like a Lego replica of the white house. Once you bury the Lego white house a pressure field appears around a certain area and makes everyone inside bleed out.

• A main villains origin story is becoming a serial killer after seeing a picture of the Mona Lisa and getting really horny.

• A main character presumed to be dead enthusiastically shows up at his own funeral. However, it should be noted that he didn't know that was his funeral so as far as he knew he was just showing up to some guys funeral to announce that HE didn't die.

• A mans power is just being trapped in a transmission tower forever.

• A guy who canonically shot a god into space almost dies trying to get up an escalator.

• There is an Italian man who's ability is making ice. His name is Ghaccio, which is Italian for ice.

• A main character is implied to be bisexual through a monologue she has about snail sex.

• A main character meets a man claiming to be an alien and immediately uses this to scam a millionaire manga artist out of money.

• Whether or not this guy is an alien is never proven either.

• A main villain has 9 elite bodyguards. One is a bird. Another one is a sword.

• A man gets so mad about a guy insulting surfers he becomes addicted to drugs and bites all his fingers off.

• A child in elementary school has top of the range hidden cameras to watch his parents marriage fall apart in real time.

• It's a real possibility that a guy is so good at drawing manga that he survived the destruction of the universe.

• A guy throws a man out of a window and then compares it to putting on underwear.

• There's a guy dressed like a rabbit who lives on the moon who's sole purpose is fucking with one family and killing them if they don't look at the moon at a specific date. This family is seen once in a spinoff and not important to the actual plot at all.

• Mormonism is the true religion in the JoJo universe.

• A guy has a heart engraved into his skull somehow. Not important to the actual plot, it's just shown at some point and never brought up.

• A man accidentally puts his sock on inside out. This action stops him from being impaled.

[hum4n01df00]

Kylo ren is a goth icon 🥀🗡️

Ok I know as a fandom we have already sort of agreed on this. But Ben is so friggen goth. And I’m not just saying this because I saw a “goth” by sidewalks and skeletons edit of him on TikTok the other day I’m saying this because it’s just so accurate. Here are some further things that I’d like to prove just for the giggles.

- him and Hux look like they’d have a strange ass modern dark wave/post punk/goth rock band that is only available on YouTube for some reason. Hell they even act like band members who have been around each other too long. I reckon kylo would be like vocals/bass and hux would be the keyboardist. Idk what their band name would be but the thought is still funny.

- he has an alias and it’s obviously kylo ren! Idk that concept is so funny and I saw some angst teen kylo fan art of him asking his family members to correctly refer to him as such. Like he’d be so on their ass about it too! I mean he still is but he is more linient when Rey calls him Ben.

- he has at least one issue with a family member that doesn’t accept him and it’s luke (for obvious reasons) but yeah idk why but that might add to this list.

- his lightsaber is red and it looks like an upside down cross! It looks like one of those lights you’d see at a really obscure goth club. That just seems so goth to me.

- he is a hopeless romantic and wants Rey to convert to the dark side. Bro probably listens to disintegration by the cure on repeat(love song being his favourite) and just picturing him doing that is so funny. Just that idea that he is so devoted and has an emotional side is so goth. Also, I just know he fw non goth bands like new order or the human league. It’s so in character of him in a disturbing way.

- his clothing is all black and he fancies cloaks and big boots a lot.

- he definitely box dies his hair (ik Adam drivers hair is naturally that black but the thought of it makes so much sense). In addition to this reason both of his parents have brown hair and I know he feels rebellious.

- if kylo existed on earth, he would definitely be a fan of guy liner and black nail polish. I don’t make the rules!

- in one of those costume/prop (idk which one pls don’t diss me) books it’s stated that he has a calligraphy set and the thought of him writing angsty poems about his situations is so silly and I can totally see him doing that.

- if he existed on earth, he’d totally have an emo phase as a teen and find a connection to goth music later in life. (I know this is specific but it just makes sense to me).

- going back to my first point, his mask would totally be a piece of his stage persona.

In conclusion, kylo ren would be the most perfect goth ever (in my opinion) and all of these points make sense to me in a really strange way. I just know he’d worship Robert smith or something.

Ps- I made a playlist for him so let me know if y’all want to see it.

[vykodlak]

Any recommendations for someone who wants to get into goth music (and likes heavier metal and rock)?

You could start off with gothic rock. It was my intro to the scene and, in my experience of playing goth music to non goths, it's the most accessible.

A few of my favorites are The Sisters of Mercy (+ First and Last and Always and Vision Thing), Fields of The Nephilim (after their disbandment their frontman formed a gothic metal band called The Nefilim), Rosetta Stone, Pretentious Moi?, Behind The Scenes (at least their first album), Temple of Angels, Solemn Novena. But if you want more of the most notable bands there's also The Cure (this & the all time classic Disintegration r my favs of theirs), Killing Joke, The Damned, Bauhaus (who are a bit less accessible than the rest).

If you want to go more obscure, I have a whole playlist that's primarily lesser known bands, nothing but goth rock (with the last song, Ladykiller, being gothic metal so just ignore that one lol - although, while gothic metal isn't considered part of the scene due to being an offshoot of doom metal, I and a lot of other goths I know still listen to it, so if you haven't delved into that but want to go on a sidequest after this I have a list for it too.)

Some other bands (darkwave, ethereal wave, post punk, etc): Corpus Delicti (loud guitars), London After Midnight, Rope Sect, Die Laughing, Inkubus Sukkubus, Cocteau Twins, The Eden House, Wisborg, Horror Vacui, The Merry Thoughts, Nosferatu, Autumn, Lycia, The Mission, Pink Turns Blue. Some bands that have stronger metal elements or are metal with heavy goth rock elements: Cemetery Echo, Tiamat (only some albums), Theatre of Tragedy's Aegis, Lepra (last one's one of my fav recent discoveries, black metal with deathrocky vocals).

By no means comprehensive but hopefully something here works as a gateway for you!

[fxreflyes]

thank you for the tags my loves!!! This was such a fun game :) @kaaaaaaarf @fatemy-friend @faggylittleleatherboy @somerubberband @wanderingdonut 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

list your top 5 albums from your top 5 artists and have people vote on which one matches your vibe

(Additional albums because idk how y’all chose 😭: Rise and fall of ziggy stardust - Bowie (I adore this album, I just saw y’all also put it so figured I’d mix it up), tim - the replacements, Boxer - the national, avenged sevenfold (self titled), darklands - Jesus and Mary chain, golden age - Ethel Cain, unknown pleasures- joy division. alright imma stop… )

Open tag!!!

But also tagging (sorry I’m late doing this so if you’ve already done it I’m sorry & lmk I’d love to see!!): @cosmmicdancer @polaroidcats @shipsnsails @fruityindividual @angelfruittree

@greengrug @belleandsaintsebastian @kaleidoscopexsighs @magneto-manifesto @sugarsnappeases

@stillagoodwitch @godsofwoes @thebloatedfrog

[eldritch-spouse]

Hello pinnieeee :DD, I'm currently disintegrating rn so how world the Icons deal with a sick queen? I have a stong feeling snake mommy will be the most calm (and probably most normal) about it, or she could also have a mental breakdown, who knows? 🤷‍♀️

I think you did an ask like this with the clergy sluts but I'm not sure if you did one with the big dicked/titted man/womanchildren

istg daddy-big-dick's gonna make our condition worse

[To be fair, I don't know if answered this for the Icons too, but I can't really find it, so I assume I didn't. Also, I hope you get better soon!]

Icons with a sick Queen

Vesper has to be reminded he can't quite literally fuck you out of illness. It's common sense that sharing lust with a concubus can help them survive harsh conditions, but you're only a human for now. Vesper forgets this, and tries to eat you out... Nevertheless, he may be severely misinformed, but he can drag a human doctor to Hell without trouble. They're staying in the manor until you're okay. Their payment is getting ravaged by imps. Vesper will sit next to you while you rest and possibly read for you. You have to tell him to stop anxiously bouncing his leg because it shakes the little bed you're in.

Zizz will be your personal bed. In fact, for most of the duration of your sickness, you're carried everywhere like a baby. You may have trouble sleeping because of pain/discomfort, so he'll be there to make sure you don't spend too much time agonizing awake, only to take care of basic needs. He's stressed enough to lose his own sleep balance, and it shows a little as he becomes sluggish in his work. He's calling several people, and conversing with you amidst your dreams, getting as many opinions as he can regarding your condition.

Rinx has brought ten bags of wildly different medicine types home, and he has no idea what to do. Do not let him load you with drugs. He just doesn't want you in such blatant misery, and he had to be sure he was getting the right stuff, so he got everything there was. He's curling around your laying form and worriedly asking if you're okay every single time you shift slightly. If you make him move away (probably, because demons are hot and you're likely overheated), he's going to whine about it. Rinx isn't above getting you high so you can feel better.

Kalymir is a disaster. Get up. Come on, get the fuck up, don't make that deflating balloon face at him, you look like a corpse (very flattering). He has good intentions, but he's the worst. He doesn't really like pills, so you're going to have to yell at him to get them. Don't ask- Scream. The King hates to see you so down and placid, so he'll taunt you in hopes of getting a rise out of you. A half-hearted "go fuck yourself" will suffice. Catch this fucker dumping the juiciest steak on your lap and demanding you eat. If you want a doctor (which is recommended with this hysterical fucker around), yell at Kalymir until he gives in.

Vorticia is, predictably, a touch calmer about this. Although, given humans are so frail, she's far from remotely secure in her ability to cure you. She worries that you'll perish at any moment, simply because surface-dwellers are that weak. Most of your time awake is definitely spent eating, if you can, a variety of soups and broths and every dish under the sun that's said to have healing properties. Other than that, the woman keeps you company, makes sure you're comfortable, and gives you things to entertain yourself with. She looks perfectly calm around you, but inside she's running a mile a minute. If you start losing your appetite (something possibly fatal for a glutton), she's going to really panic. Possibly drag an entire human medical team into Gluttony.

Cero is not waiting more than a day for you to overcome it on your own. If you're still sick, or worse, by day two, he's picking you up and forcing his way into a good enough hospital in the surface. He's not waiting in lines, or checking in, or bothering to present documents- He demands to see the best doctor in the premises, and if he's denied, he threatens to start impaling random people in the waiting rooms, by the minute. Everyone is sweating bullets throughout the duration of your stay, as Cero is always present to scrutinize everything each doctor and nurse does. When asked about it, he says you're overreacting about it and he's just there to be sure you won't make a scene.

Livius is, hilariously enough, in as shitty a mood as you are. He's an emotional sponge of a person, so he's going to be as uncomfortable and tired as you are. He's very worried, and less than composed about it, tearing up because humans are so weak. You're going to DIE. You're going to KEEL OVER AND DIE and he doesn't know what he's going to do- He might as well die too!! Please get this man a fucking breather or he will hyperventilate himself into a bed next to you. Your fate is almost entirely on your hands, as Livius will simply freeze and eerily wait for you to tell him what to do. He's very ominous and quiet when you're sick, it's as if his confidence vanishes in the blink of an eye, and he has this vacant look.

[mellotronmkll]

where do I start with The Cure I need to listen to them

Alright let me preface this by saying I might not be the best person to ask because while I've been a fan for a long time I wouldn't say I'm like a mega obsessed super fan, at least not according to my own standards/definition of what that means which to be fair are likely loftier than most normal peoples BUT i will try to give you some guidance anyway. But if any cure superfans follow me and want to give feedback/correct me please do

so first off i will say that one of my favorite ways to get acquainted with a band is to watch music videos, you get to hear their singles and kind of get a sense of the development of the band without actually listening to all of the albums chronologically (not that i don't also like doing that sometimes) - for the cure I think it's maybe especially a good idea because their sound changed quite a bit over the years and there are some really good non-album singles. and (most of) the videos are fun, here's a playlist of their mvs in order:

Or you can just listen to the singles as well

As for albums ... it's kind of tricky, Disintegration most people will tell you is their best album and if you just dive into that I'm sure you'll enjoy it, it is like . their masterpiece for sure but I will say you get more out of it if you've listened to their other albums first because there are references to their earlier work in it and it just makes the most sense in context as a lot of it has to do with smith processing where he and the band were at that point in 1989, 10 years after their first album so if you listen to it after hearing the rest of the other albums it does just hit differently, but if you're only going to listen to one album it's not a bad choice. it's undeniably great and you can definitely just enjoy it as it is. but also keep in mind its one of their most heavy, dark, atmospheric albums.

Now if you listen and like those aspects of it a lot i would probably do Pornography next which is maybe their bleakest record (and the first of the so called "gothic trilogy" of which disintegration is the second), then maybe faith next, and if you like that too just go chronologically. However if it's too much for you and you wish it was a little lighter and more pop forward I'd check out the head on the door next.

Incidentally the head on the door was my intro to them when I was a teenager and I really latched on to it immediately, that's probably not a bad place to start either as it kind of has something for everyone, some really great pop singles but they didn't lose that gloomy feel that's a lot more pronounced on some of the others so you could start there too!!! If you like it check out kiss me, kiss me, kiss me (which i like more and also really strikes that great pop/goth balance perfectly for me but it's a double album so I don't want to suggest it as a starter) and some of their other mid 80s singles (a personal fave is the caterpillar). If you don't like it, go listen to pornography or jump ahead to disintegration.

Ah also a note on saying to go chronologically - their first album is really different, that characteristic darker more melancholy or whatever edge really started with their second album seventeen seconds but i dont agree with fans who tell you that their first album isnt worth listening to and just start with seventeen seconds, i really enjoy it for what it is which is I think just a solid late 70s post-punk album, and it has some songs I really love. but if you start with it without listening to one of the albums mentioned above first, it definitely doesn't give you the best indication of what the band would become so make sure to follow it up with seventeen seconds right away if you do listen to it 1st/decide to go chronologically

Last two things I will say: my personal favorite album of theirs is faith, just wanted to put that out there, also I will say that their greatest hits album (called, greatest hits) is not bad at all if you just want something really quick and dirty to give you and overview lol

Anyways hope that wasn't too overwhelming of an answer! I just wanted to give a lot of options and context so i hope it kinda made sense. have fun and if you do check them out let me know what you think :)

[y-rhywbeth2]

There are two silly ideas in my head regarding Astarion killing you in Act 1:

One is where we ignore the lingering effects of 4e and stick to 3.5e and older vampire spawn mechanics: dying when being fed on by vampire spawn means you rise from the dead as their spawn (although sometimes burial is required first, to ensure undeath takes hold). He learns new things about his capabilities every day! Also could you all please but down those knives - yes, yes, I free them from my service already... Although, more sensibly, Withers can also just cure them via resurrection.

Alternatively, Durge with their thing where Bhaal just resurrects them when it suits him, and it's funnier if you throw in the usual dissolving of the corpse. Astarion accidentally turns you to ash, goes "...is that supposed to happen?" and thinks he got away with it (no body disposal!). Meanwhile Durge wakes up in the Lower Planes in a bad mood, has to find a portal back, and the next morning Astarion gets a surprise punch in the face from the guy (gn) he disintegrated last night.

[hypnagogics]

so what are your favorite albums by your "big three"? :33

YAY MUSIC TALKSLSKS okay i thought about this a lot:

the cure: gotta be disintegration😭 it's just pure perfection all the way through, but honestly i like basically all their stuff...dam this is harder than i thought bc idk if there's a single song or album i dislike by them sos..ill say disintegration bc it's what's been on repeat lately! and then the head on the door is also amazing...but i also really like pornography...FUCK IM SAYING DISINTEGRATION OKAY.

type o negative: I ALSO HAD TO REALLY THINK but life is killing me has gotta take the cake. it contains most of my favorites, only bangers on it idc. this one's hard bc again, i like most of their stuff, but i also am gonna say dead again is second! and bloody kisses third....

the smashing pumpkins: adore!! their best album in my humble opinion, crazy hot take ik 🤷 but it's sooooo so good im obsessed with it and that sound. BUT THEY HAVE SO MANY BANGERS EVERYWHERE ISTG

THANKYA FOR ASKING I LOVE MUSIC TALK <3 im quite indecisive and my answers may change as soon as tomorrow but yeah this is it as of rn...turning into a music blog LMFAOO

[littlewalken]

A quick who's who guide to The Cure for baby bats joining the fan club. If you're not sure about any treats ask if Roger made them and that should explain it. :p

The original line up- Robert, Michael, and Lol. Porl/Pearl was with them for a while but not by the time of recording and touring Three Imaginary Boys/Boys Don't Cry. This is the time when Robert first became a Banshee and Lol's encounter with Billy Idol.

Lol, Robert, Matthieu, and Simon, they record Seventeen Seconds, Matthieu will introduce keyboards but not be around long. Perry will see them in concert shortly after Simon joins.

Robert, Simon, Lol, they record Faith and P*rn*graphy eventually self destructing.

Just Robert and Lol will be The Cure for a while as Robert has to decide if he wants to stay with Siouxsie and The Banshees or not. He will also record Blue Sunshine with Steve Severin as The Glove using Andy Anderson to drum and Porl/Pearl Thompson to round out the band for a TV appearance. Robert will use up his supply of drugs they don't make anymore while working on the songs that will appear on Japanese Whispers and The Top.

Robert, Lol, Andy, Phil who plays bass on Lovecats which is part of the reason Simon hates Lovecats.

Phil, Pearl, Robert, Andy, Lol. This is the line up for the Borrowlands and Japanese concert videos. Perry is hired as a roadie around this time.

Phil, Porl/Pearl, Robert, Lol, Vince. After the Japan concert Andy does not continue with The Cure for the American leg of the tour so they bring in Vince Ely (Psychedelic Furs) for a few dates. He is unable to stay with them so Phil uses his contacts to find another drummer.

Lol, Boris, Robert, Porl/Pearl, Phil will finish out the tour. Soon Phil will have commitments to producing other bands and will leave.

Simon, Robert, Lol, Boris, Porl/Pearl. They will record Head on the Door and Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me along with the video Live in Orange. Roger will see one of these shows and not be too impressed. As Lol starts to self destruct it's realized they will need a better keyboard player on tour.

Lol, Boris, Porl/Pearl, Robert. Simon, Roger. Boris will call in his former Thompson Twins touring band member Roger who just finished working with, of all bands, the Psychedelic Furs. They will tour then Robert will invite Roger to stay as they begin working on Disintegration. Anything Lol records for the album will be rerecorded by Roger at Robert's insistence.

Robert, Roger, Porl/Pearl, Boris, Simon. Lol leaves because of personal problems, touring goes on, Roger eventually leaves.

Porl/Pearl, Boris, Simon, Robert, Perry. This line up appears in Play Out, does MTV Unplugged, and makes the Wish album. Porl leaves to start his family but will tour with half of Led Zeppelin and appear in their No Quarter video and album. Jason is among the crowd at Gastonbury with the helicopter incident.

Perry, Simon, Robert, Boris will only play once for the Great Xpectations concert. Boris will leave.

Jason, Simon, Robert, Roger, Perry. They will be the only line up to record three albums- Wild Mood Swings, Bloodflowers, and The Cure. They will do the Trilogy video. Robert will meet Reeves at this time and perform at Bowie's 50th birthday concert. A performance with Placebo will introduce Perry to future Love Amongst Ruin bandmate Steve Hewitt.

Perry and Roger will leave under questionable circumstances leaving Robert, Simon, and Jason as a trio for a short time.

Simon, Jason, Porl/Pearl, Robert. The album 4:13 dream will be recorded, a concert video will be filmed, Porl/Pearl will leave again.

Robert, Roger, Jason, Simon, Lol. The Reflections Tour will be a short lived series of concerts celebrating the first three albums played in full. Roger will stay, Lol will not.

Reeves, Simon, Robert, Roger, Jason. They will do several concert videos, including the 30th anniversary of Disintegration and the 40th of the band, and eventually record and put out Songs of A Lost World.

Simon's son and guitar tech Eden will play two concerts in his place when Simon can't appear for personal reasons.

Perry will be brought back to tour the Songs of A Lost world. Roger is not on the South American leg of the tour but returns.

Almost forgot to add in 2019 ten members of The Cure was inducted in to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

Porl/Pearl, Boris, Michael, (Trent from NiN), Lol, Robert, Perry, Jason, Roger, Simon, Reeves.

[thecreaturecodex]

Ha-naga

Image © Bad Moon Art Studio, accessed at their gallery here

[Sponsored by @justicegundam82, who's been having me convert monsters from both Epic Level Handbook and Serpent Kingdoms for a while. And this one is from both! I do find it interesting that the greatest of the nagas, rather than being neutral or being posited as an ancestor or patron to all nagas, is explicitly chaotic evil. I'm going to be working this into the Age of Monsters/Great Game stuff, believe me. Also, thanks to this excellent art, I gave my version both disintegrate and Still Spell]

Ha-Naga CR 20 CE Aberration This human-headed serpent is enormous, its head the size of an entire human, and its body as long as a caravel. Its scales shimmer in color but default to a pearlescent white.

Ha-nagas are the most powerful and magically gifted of the naga lineages. It is a shame, therefore, that they are universally evil. Every ha-naga is self-absorbed to the point of megalomania, and they respect nothing else besides the gods, and even those only grudgingly. Most ha-nagas like to view themselves as divine incarnations, extinction level events, civilization destroyers, and other over the top entities. They have the power to back these claims up on a practical level. Spirit nagas view ha-nagas with a combination of envy and awe, and most ha-nagas have one or more nests of spirit naga minions.

In combat, a ha-naga would rather avoid violence altogether with its mesmerizing gaze. Most ha-nagas have charmed victims to slow down dedicated enemies with, and they do not hesitate to allow said charmed victims to be slain in its stead. If a ha-naga’s mind-controlled allies turn on it, they merely become additional targets for its spells. Ha-nagas tend to like big flashy spells that deal damage over a wide area, and then focus fire on any healers or fellow casters left standing. If they are allowed the freedom of an open-air location for combat, they take to the skies, flying gracefully like a snake swimming through water. Their slam attack is a grasping loop of their coils, and their stings contain venom that causes flesh to decompose within seconds.

Ha-nagas are enormous, and as such require enormous lairs. Abandoned and ruined cities are a favorite, with the ha-naga nesting inside of a temple complex, coliseum or other monumental building. They are very tactile creatures, and often sleep on mounds of treasure in the way that dragons do. Dragons are the only creatures ha-nagas feel remotely threatened by, and some ha-nagas make a habit of eliminating all of the dragons within a comfortable radius of their lairs (and stealing their hoards) before settling down in a location for good.

A ha-naga is about 100 feet long. Their lifespans are best measured in centuries, and a ha-naga can survive two or three millennia if not slain in combat.

Ha-Naga CR 20 XP 307,200 CE Colossal aberration (evil) Init +12; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +36, scent Defense AC 34, touch 14, flat-footed 22 (-8 size, +12 Dex, +20 natural) hp 372 (24d8+264) Fort +19, Ref +22, Will +23 DR 20/good; Immune charms, compulsion effects; SR 31 Weakness corrupted Offense Speed 60 ft., fly 120 ft. (perfect) Melee slam +22 (4d6+9 plus grab), sting +22 (2d8+9 plus poison), bite +22 (4d4+9) Space 30 ft.; Reach 20 ft. Special Attacks charming gaze, constrict (4d6+13) Spells CL 19th, concentration +30 9th (5/day)—meteor swarm (DC 30), wail of the banshee (DC 30) 8th (7/day)—fire storm (DC 29), horrid wilting (DC 29), power word stun 7th (8/day)—greater arcane sight, greater teleport, regenerate 6th (8/day)—disintegrate (DC 27), greater heroism, heal (DC 27) 5th (8/day)—baleful polymorph (DC 26), cone of cold (DC 26), nightmare (DC 26), wall of force (DC 26) 4th (8/day)—cure critical wounds (DC 25), divine power, freedom of movement, scrying (DC 25) 3rd (9/day)—dispel magic, displacement, lightning bolt (DC 24), slow (DC 24) 2nd (9/day)—alter self, mirror image, resist energy, scorching ray, spiritual weapon 1st (9/day)—cure light wounds (DC 22), identify, mage armor, magic missile, shield of faith 0th—bleed (DC 21), detect magic, ghost sound (DC 21), light, mage hand, message, read magic, stabilize, touch of fatigue (DC 21) Statistics Str 28, Dex 34, Con 32, Int 31, Wis 29, Cha 33 Base Atk +18; CMB +38 (+42 grapple); CMD 58 (cannot be tripped) Feats Agile Maneuvers, Arcane Strike, Combat Reflexes, Dodge, Empower Spell, Eschew Materials (B), Extend Spell, Flyby Attack, Lightning Reflexes, Quicken Spell, Skill Focus (Stealth), Still Spell, Weapon Finesse Skills Acrobatics +39 (+51 when jumping), Bluff +35, Diplomacy +35, Fly +39, Intimidate +38, Knowledge (arcana, dungeoneering, planes) +34, Knowledge (history) +37, Perception +36, Sense Motive +33, Spellcraft +37, Stealth +41, Survival +36; Racial Modifiers +12 Stealth Languages Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Draconic, Senzar, Undercommon SQ camouflage, compression, flight, metamagic mastery Ecology Environment any land or underground Organization solitary Treasure double standard Special Abilities Camouflage (Ex) A ha-naga gains a +12 racial bonus on Stealth checks. It does not need cover or concealment to make Stealth checks. Charming Gaze (Su) Range 60 ft.; effect charmed (as per charm monster) for 20 days; save Will DC 31. The save DC is Charisma based and includes a -2 racial penalty. Corrupted (Ex) A ha-naga is treated as an outsider with the evil subtype, as well as its actual type, for spells and abilities affected by creature type. Flight (Su) The fly speed of a ha-naga is a supernatural ability. Metamagic Mastery (Su) A ha-naga does not need to increase the casting time of a spontaneous spell in order to modify that spell with its metamagic feats. Poison (Ex) Sting—injury; save Fort DC 33; duration 1/round for 6 rounds; effect 1d8 Con damage; cure 2 consecutive saves. The save DC is Constitution based. Spells A ha-naga can cast spells as a 19th level sorcerer. It treats spells from the cleric spell list as being on the sorcerer/wizard list. It does not gain any of the other class abilities of a sorcerer, such as a bloodline.