#For the record I've seen some of your stuff for bob too and it was excellent 👌

[saltymongoose]

Yayayay

Chapter 2! I wrote the first half of this on a plane! Hope you enjoy yay.

OMG, this was incredibly interesting, I'm amazed you developed the plot this much within a single chapter. :D (And that you wrote this on a plane? Omg?)

I'm not going to spoil it too much, but all of this build-up with the Auditor (+ the other Employers by extension) and the Main 3 was really well done, and it definitely makes me think that they're ready to take some rather drastic action to help their Player. I'm very curious to see how it'll play out, especially now that the Auditor knows others are aware of his interest in you. There are just so many possible paths for this story to take from this point; I'm excited to see what you come up with next. Great work as always, Box! :) <3333

[ienjoywritingfilth]

Love me More

Wow you guys really liked the M.A. story and it made me feel so good that I finished this filthy little tale in record time. thanks for reblogging and commenting i'm still trying to get the hang of everything here. - IEWF

pairing: dbf!Joel x fem!reader

trope: Mom's Boyfriend! Javier Pena

summary: After some great news you're in the best mood when your Mom's boyfriend Javier comes over. What's the harm in a little fun with him while she's not there?

warnings: age gap (not specified), sexual tension, forbidden rel, absolutely filthy talk, daddy mentioned, other shit but I've probs forgotten.

word count: 2.5k

rating 18+

wanna see my other stuff?

The email comes through while you’re in the living room, watching television. A bleep on your phone as you swipe up, opening gmail.

Congratulations, we’d like to offer you the position of-

You don’t read further, you just jump off the couch and pump your fist in the air.

“FUCK YEA!”

The promotion came through on your job which means starting next month you'll officially have enough to move out of your alcoholic mom's shitty apartment. She's one of those talented ones that still has a job, is still likeable, but can't get through her evening without a tallboy or seven. 

A knock sounds at the door while you compose the text to your friends quickly, nearly vibrating with excitement. You’re so close to what you’ve always wanted. A knock sounds at the door as

you rack your mind trying to think of all the people that could be stopping by.

You creep towards the door, peering into the peephole to see a tired looking Javier Peña smoking and standing there. 

Javier is your mom's new boyfriend and drinking buddy. He just moved into the apartment next door and your mother wasted no time getting to know him. She's always had a thing for inscrutable men. 

You're perfectly cordial to the parade of men that come through the front door of you home, and have since your father left for Punta Cana with his secretary five years ago. 

Javier is perfectly nice; he's just one of many in a long line of your mother's bed partners. You don't get too attached. 

"Hi Javier," you offer, opening the door a little wider. "What's up?" 

"Came by to see your mama," Javier says glancing at his watch. "She said she'd be home by now."

Normally you'd tell him he was mistaken so he'll fuck off. But after the great day you had you're in an impossibly good mood. You step back to open the door with a polite smile. 

"Sometimes she works overtime," you explain. "She should be home soon though. You wanna come in and wait?"

Javier debates this and then finally nods, flicking his cigarette off into the night before moving inside. He follows after you. You swan through the room, picking up your pizza plate and glancing at him over your shoulder. 

"Want a beer?"

"Sure."

You're giddy with everything that happened today. Excited with the thought of moving somewhere new, somewhere bright and fresh. This puts you in high spirits as you grab you both a bottle of Corona and head back. 

Javier takes a place on the couch, watching what you'd been enjoying in the background. 

"You watch black and white movies?"

"Sometimes," you shrug when you come back with two sweating beer bottles. You hand him his and take a seat next to him on the couch. 

The couch isn't huge so your thighs are touching his as you take a sip from your beer bottle. He doesn't move away, doesn't move closer, just sits there politely staring ahead. 

"Never seen this movie," Javier comments, clearing his throat. "S'that Joan Crawford?"

"Yep. It's called Mildred Pierce. It's an old classic film noir," you offer, fingers itching to grab the remote.

You watch Javier's lean throat bobs as he drinks his beer. You take a slow sip of yours, never crazy about the taste, only the buzz it brings. Unlike your mom you’re done after two beers.

"I think I saw the Kate Winslet one," he offers. "Remake I guess."

"Mhm." 

You see his dark gaze flicks to you out the corner of his eyes, sliding over your bare legs before jerking back to the television. When you shift and he does it a second time you realize he's checking you out. 

You should be repulsed or even horrified. But instead you're amused, even tingly at the prospect that this man finds you attractive. He's certainly easy on the eyes in his short sleeve button down and pouty mouth. Is he mewing? A quick glance tells you his jeans are tight and that even flaccid his cock is big. 

You have no desire to seduce your mother's boyfriend. The thought is reprehensible, but the flattery of being found desirable by an older, attractive man is a heady drug. 

You stretch yourself out, raising your arms above your head and giving a dramatic groan. A sliver of your belly shows and you see through your hair as Javier takes another peek at your body before shuffling slightly. 

"You, uh, like old movies?" 

"I've always had a love of older things," you purr. 

Javier is silent at that, his fingers tightening around his beer bottle. You can sense that he's uncomfortable and it amuses you greatly. 

Are he and your mom an established couple? Is this serious? You have noticed him around lately but that's your mother's way of things. Burn through them fast. Besides you're not going to be here in a month. 

What's the harm in a little fun? 

You hide a smirk and rise up. With a measured agility you lean towards the coffee table, gripping his knee to help propel you forward. You reach with your other hand to grab the remote. You feel when your shorts ride up, exposing most of your ass. You sense Javier's eyes on you and you make sure to arch, letting him get a good long view, squeezing his knee when you lean back against the cushion. You notice his cheeks are pink. 

This is too fun. 

"I always thought it was so sexy," you explain patiently, raising the remote to turn up the volume. 

"If I recall it doesn't end very sexy for them," Javier swallows. He's refusing to look in your direction. 

"Yeah but the buildup is the best part," you murmur. "All that sexual tension, knowing you wanna fuck but knowing it's so wrong?"

You see the moment the words hit him because Javier goes as still as a statue. He's barely breathing, not moving a fraction and you wonder if he's trying to focus on not getting hard. 

You hold back a giggle at the thought and lean towards him, your mouth drawing near to his ear. 

"You ever wanted to fuck someone knowing its wrong, Javi?"

Javier says nothing, but you don't miss the dart of his eyes to your chest and then back to the television. Your hand goes to his thigh, fingertips inching upwards. Javier's eyes immediately fly to your fingers and their lazy ascent up his thigh. You bite your lower lip to keep the grin from bleeding over your face. You're not going any further than this; you've had your fun. 

You pull your hand from his leg, placing it in your lap. Javier lifts his eyes up the length of your body before locking his gaze with yours. He raises a hand to the back of the couch, nostrils flaring.

Shit.

Can he smell your arousal? Can he hear the sudden tick of your pulse? Can he sense the shift that just occurred?

He licks his lower lip slowly, his large eyes glued to your mouth. Your lips part as your breathing deepens.

Fuck has he always been this sexy?

Javier’s eyes are black with arousal, shining with lust and you feel your core tighten at how he’s staring at you; like he’s an animal waiting to devour prey. You shouldn’t be turned on by that. You shouldn’t want him to close the distance between your bodies.

Tension crackles in the air and the scent of his aftershave wafts in the air around you. It’s spicy and sweet and mingles with the scent of cigarette smoke. You can physically feel your arousal soaking your panties.

“Javier---“

He doesn’t look like he heard you; he’s too intent on staring at your mouth, deaf to everything else. If he’s anything like you, the blood is rushing in his ears.  You squirm. Javier begins to slide towards you on the couch, his body moving with a feline grace.

The both of you hear the key hit the apartment lock at the same time. Javier jerks back from you just in time for the door to swing open and your mother to come blowing in. 

"I'm home!" 

Your mother's voice breaks into the room and you see Javier's face break into a guilty looking smile. 

"Hey gorgeous." 

"I'm so sorry I'm late Javi!" Your mother pouts, coming to throw herself into his lap. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into a kiss as you hold in a gag. 

"I hope my daughter was hospitable to you while I was gone." 

She gives a wink in your direction that you return with a polite smile. Javier grips your mom around the middle, holding her there in his lap and refusing to look in your direction. 

"Yep," he nods. "Very. Got me a beer and everything." 

"That's my girl," your mom says with a proud smile. 

You're about to reply when you think of the text you haven't sent. Of your promotion. Your game with Javier is done. You press a kiss to your mom's temple and bid them both a goodnight before heading to your bedroom with your Corona.

You pull on your pyjamas, tired from the day. It's warm tonight, so a light tank and sleep shorts will have to do. You pull out your phone, sending off a few texts to your friends to tell them about the good news.

We gotta go out to celebrate sluuuuutttt

You smile at the message from your oldest friend Harper. The one who loves to party more than anyone you know.

There's a knock on your bedroom door an hour or so later and you open it, surprised to see Javier standing there looking nervous. He scans your body clocking the short shorts and the way your nipples peek through your shirt. 

"Your mom's just in the shower," Javier tells you quietly, taking a step back. "Then we're going out to dinner." 

You can hear the shower running down at the end of the hall.

"Mhm," you nod, distracted by your phone on the bed that just beeped. 

"You eat yet?"

"Nah, didn't feel hungry," you offer. "Where you guys going?"

"Dunno. Maybe that Mexican place down the street." 

The two of you lapse into uncomfortable silence, you balancing on one foot as you watch him avoid your eyes. You bite back amusement when his dark eyes dart to your chest and then back to the floor.  

"You want us to bring you anything back?"

There's a sweetness in him asking if you want anything. Something that almost feels paternal. But the way he keeps sneaking looks at your tits is anything but. 

The shower is still going and emboldened by the buzz from your beer you take a step towards Javier in the hallway. He stands watching you, chest rising shallowly as you press your front to his, standing on your tiptoes. 

"You don't have to take care of me," you purr at his ear. "'I don't need you to be my daddy." 

You feel rather than hear the shudder that goes through him at the term and you hold in a laugh. You hand finds his bicep, squeezing there and you ensure your voice is a seductive whisper when you speak next. 

"Unless, you wanna be my daddy, Javi. Is that it? Or do you just want me to call you daddy?" 

He swallows and you step back, biting your lower lip. Javier looks like he's run a marathon. Pupils blown wide, lips slightly parted, neck growing damp with sweat. The shower squeaks off and like a whistle he seems to come back to himself.  Javier steps back as you move backwards into your bedroom. 

"Have a good dinner," you tell him with a wink. 

And before he can say anything you've stepped back, closing the door gently in his face. 

You muffle your laughter with your pillow, listening to hear Javier standing outside your room a moment longer before his footsteps recede into the other bedroom.

You hear he and your mother chatting, mumbles through the thin walls and you bring up your phone to see what the alert was.

There’s this guy here at the club u neeed to fuck. He’s so criminally fine.

Attached is a photo of the most aggressively mid man you’ve ever seen. Just Harper being Harper.

It’s Tuesday Harper.

So what? Fucking doesn’t happen during the week?

Not for me. My job just got harder remember!?

You can almost see your friend rolling her eyes.

Have fun being a boring ass nun. c u on the weekend. Imma get you shitfaced n help you celebrate your promotion properly.

You write back something sarcastic before you give a yawn and crawl under your covers. You set the alarm on your phone before you start the classic evening tradition of wasting good sleeping time on tiktok. You scroll on your feed for a bit, feeling your eyelids grow heavy when a noise draws your attention. 

It takes you a moment before you realize it's the clack of your mother's metal bed frame hitting the wall across the hall.  

"Fuck yes, Javi!"

Classic Mom shit. Whenever she drinks she's loud and hyper sexual. But you thought they were going for dinner? You hear your mother cooing his name again, her begging in a pathetic whine that grates your nerves. You reach for your headphones when something stops you. 

"Fucking tease." 

You think you've misheard because instead of your mother's theatrical moans you hear his rasping baritone. Punched out groans at first, slowly building with every thrust. 

"Fucking tease acting like that."

You think you're imagining it at first. He's never been vocal before - only grunting and moaning. He's never spoken like this in the bedroom and that alone has you fascinated. 

"Take it, yeah, take it you fucking slut."

And in between these rasped epithets you hear your mother's groans, her encouragement and then her gentle begs for him to go harder.

"You're messing with the wrong man you little whore," he huffs, his hips slapping against her ass. "Think you can fuck with me and get away with it?"

Your mother's moans are muffled, likely because her face is smooshed in her pillow. He's undoubtedly fucking her from behind, facing the wall, facing your bedroom. 

"You're gonna pay for it."

And then as the groan of the mattress and the creak of the bed frame hit a fever pitch you hear Javier, his voice a tight hiss. 

"Daddy's gonna wreck that tight little cunt. Gonna fuck you so full of my cum you cry for me to stop. Gonna show you w-"

The thought remains forever unfinished because you hear the telltale groan of completion, your mother's high pitched whinnies, the noisy concert of smacks and wet plunging and then finally silence. 

You know that wasn't for your mother's benefit. He wasn't saying it about her. He was saying it about you. 

The thought has your pussy pounding. You thrust your hand down you panties only to find you're so wet you can barely believe it. 

It's only seconds before you bring yourself off to the filth Javier just spewed before trembling violently under the covers. Images of his mouth on your cunt and his cock fucking into you have you shuddering as another orgasm overtakes the first, leaving you wrung out and panting as you realize: you are so fucked.

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight - Part 6: Running Up That Hill

📜The angst... continued... Though I loved hearing all your thoughts about who you guys disliked the most in the last chapter. I'd love to know what you think after this chapter. I've been warned this one is a bit... OUCHIE?!

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Verbal fights (some mean stuff is said here; there might be some gaslighting), so bullying, wildlife encounters, shitty family dynamics, and angst.

#7k

Part 5 | Masterlist | Part 7

Everyone scattered in the aftermath.

Even Jessica and Veronica were nowhere to be found as you made your escape. You hardly blamed them for it. If you had been in their shoes, witnessing that shit show, you would have shuttered hard from the waves of secondhand embarrassment rolling off all the tension.

But you couldn't feel secondhand embarrassment from it; you were the embarrassment. And all because of the same reason that got you to this point in your life. 

Jake Seresin just couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.

You're slightly optimistic about where the group could have gone, even with how hurt you felt. You hoped no one had heard or seen any of it, and they already had gone off to do their own thing. Probably the more likely choice, they did and wanted to avoid the fallout altogether, just like certain people had been all along.

Then a third miserable thought entered your mind - they were all pissed with you, maybe even with Jake, and wanted you gone. You could hardly blame them for that, either. Maybe deep down, you wanted to leave too.

It's how you found yourself following the rocky path, perhaps even dangerous if one wasn't paying attention, up to the top of the waterfall instead. The trail was open for use, though, from appearance alone, it looked like only some people came up here looking for another photo opportunity for someone with a camera below.

Climbing up the slope, rather than glancing below to the water, you turned your head towards the river, winding through a stretch of forest. If you weren't so upset, you might have stopped to wonder if this was the scenery authors envisioned when writing fantasy books. This stretch of woods ranged along the top of this mountainside terrain, and perhaps if you ventured far enough, somewhere you'd find yourself standing on the edge of the world. 

You followed the river bank instead, even if you could call it that, your eyes so intently focused on the rushing water you had nothing but your thoughts to keep you company. 

Cora's face flashes through your mind first. A shameful, disappointed look after asking if you had set up any more pranks. You had no intention to fuck up what was supposed to be a happy memory for Nat, but Cora could have put two and two together and assumed you were taking it another step too far.

Grace and Bob? Even Mickey? Pity. You didn't need to think about them further; the guilt from their expressions alone would drive you right into the dirt.

Rueben and Javy, you couldn't say, but Jessica and Veronica, you pushed from your mind, even if they tried to claim a few of your brain cells. They'd be so laced in pure, self-centred bias that you'd even go so far as to classify any remark they might make in the style and prose of Regina George's Burn Book - Masters of passive aggressiveness but perfect at playing the victim when the situation turned against them, as demonstrated the night you injured your hand.

Even if they had no part in what unfolded, any defensive remark would only be met with another, perhaps twisted, sentence intended to put you down.

You might have laughed at the fact had you not felt like crying instead.

It was a few minutes before you found the fork in the river, and there was a solitary rock big enough and flat enough to sit upon. You went to it without haste, letting your feet guide you by their own accord. Being mindful of your hand as you hoisted yourself up and settled onto the smooth surface, you drew your knees up to your chest rather than let your legs hang over the side. You didn't even bother removing your backpack; the weight pulling against your back was a comfort and a burden.

Weakly wrapping your arms around your legs, you let your cheek rest on your kneecaps. What comfort your arms could give was meagre and weak, and even as you stared at a riffle in the water, the gentle trickle or the momentary peace did nothing to help you.

While there was a part of you wishing Jake had decided to leave altogether, to hike back to the entrance of the park, never to show his ugly no, good, untimely, "if not now, when" ass again, you know there was no point. It wouldn't fix what had happened, and it wouldn't make Nat feel any better either.

To say this wasn't the first time you found yourself in the middle of a fight would be an understatement. As friends usually do, you and Nat had your fair share of them over the years, though they always ended up with the two of you making up.

Always because someone caved - that someone being you - maybe that's one of the reasons why you wanted to seek her out.

But you knew your presence wouldn't be welcomed. No matter your explanation, she wouldn't want to hear it, shoving it off and turning you away, especially after the first-row seat to her rage.

Her words hurt you, but you still knew you owed it to her to apologize.

For letting your temper get the better of you, yelling at Jake? Yes.

For the aftermath of it ruining her proposal? Also, yes.

You would sooner run after her for that apology alone had not Bradley gone after her - rightly so. That was something you couldn't interrupt or insert yourself into, especially after a clusterfuck such as that.

The 'thing' building in the pit of your stomach against the white, nauseating feeling of guilt also made you rethink your decision to seek her out. A feeling that only arose from you replaying Nat's rage-filled words repeatedly in your head.

Jake could be right. It's looking like he had always been right.

You don't understand why now, of all times, you'd entertain the possibility of accepting Jake's words. It is something you want to remain a mystery, shoved deep down into the forgotten places of your mind.

It's an impossible feat.

Nat's rage, so hot and what you'd classify as spiteful, blew the doors open so wide there was no amount of pressure you could shove at the idea to make it disappear. You buried your face into your knees, eye sockets aching under the force, driving lights and shapes to appear behind your lids.

What if? What if I said this? What if I did this? What if I just walked away?

But something else shot forward in your mind, something you'd never thought you'd entertain.

What if I did confront Nat? Confront her for the lack of support throughout the entire trip. Not just in the heat of the moment, but truly laid bare that she purposely brought me on this trip without telling me Jake would be here too.

If you told her how you felt, how she had made you feel, would that have made a difference, too?

You think not. Even if you had a part to play in your feelings of isolation, there would have been a reason, an explanation, a word vomit of her hurt feelings without care for yours. You had never truly voiced your feelings before, always burying them under wit and sarcasm.

There was no chance you would now.

Ironic, isn't it? All that snark you've mustered up for Jake, for the two twins incarnate, and you still couldn't bring yourself to stand up for yourself and set a boundary with your 'friend.'

You supposed that's how it's always been, too.

Growing up in the shadow of expectations, your voice often ended up unheard. A middle child sandwiched between an older brother who followed in your father's footsteps and a younger sister brimming with self-selected compassion – and two parents in high-achieving roles.

In the rare instance that all five of you could actually sit down and have a family dinner together, conversations only seemed to revolve around that fact. They were limited to surgical techniques, case studies, medical research projects, and overseas missions.

Your father always sat at the same end of the dining room table. Dr. Xiaver Spencer, the authoritative head neurosurgeon, would often glance over the rim of his glasses, nodding approvingly at your brother's, Dr. Alex Spencer, recounts of complex brain surgeries. Your mother always claimed her spot at the other end. Dr. Heather Spencer, the CEO of a prestigious teaching and research-based hospital, would meticulously plan her next board meeting in between bites. 

With your brother between them on one side, Ella, your younger sister, would occupy the other. She often regaled the family with tales of distant lands and communities, places she had adventures to as a volunteer with UNICEF. If she wasn't home, she was overseas, helping build homes, handing out supplies, assisting medics, or studying.

Only 16, and she was off seeing the world, her pure joy of helping those in need making your paintings and designs at the local animal shelter quaint in comparison.

That left you and your seat at the table, never fixed or permanent, wedging between your brother, sister, mother and father in a different spot every time.

They made you feel quaint, too. Any attempt to share or talk about art, your art, or even the opportunities coming your way was always met with a "That's nice, dear" or "It's good to have hobbies."

Alex would laugh. Ella would remain silent. And nobody took you seriously enough when you started discussing it as an actual career.

Because the path you had chosen for yourself was less valuable than the stringent standards surrounding your family and what it meant to be a Spencer. Because pursuing a Fine Arts or even an Arts Illustration Degree was abhorrent when you could be working to save lives instead.

You might have taken to talking back and standing up for yourself in the early days. Each remark or attempt was followed with one of their own, so cutthroat it would have you sinking into the polished and unmarked leather of one of your mother's overly expensive dining room chairs. You would poke at the designer dish with the fancy silver fork through your tears, waiting till everyone else finished before taking off to your room and calling Aunt Viv.

Each time you did, the urge diminished, and soon, you didn't say anything unless you were spoken to. However, that was a rare instance indeed.

Why give your opinion? Why voice your thoughts when they weren't really warranted?

Correction - Wanted.

Aunt Viv, though. She... cared. Pure, unwavering support, no matter what you said, did or would think to do. She pushed you towards what you loved and stood by you like a rock when cash was tight, and scholarships weren't cutting it. She was unafraid to throw your name around in conversations. Not your full name, but "My niece Maeve does this," or "My niece is such a talented artist."

Who knew growing apples could have such a sway? You weren't sure where you'd be now if it weren't for her.

You knew you couldn't stay here on this rock forever. But you didn't know what else to do. Walk back with your head held high? Give Cora, Grace, or even Bob the compass and the map, and let them take over for the rest of the day? Hang out in the back of the group where you belonged, not saying a word to anyone else?

You could always leave.

The thought was tempting - walk away from it all. From Nat, from Jake, from the situation. You're surprised you didn't attempt to do it before. But leaving now felt like admitting defeat, and despite everything, you weren't ready to give up. Not yet.

Four-plus years, and it would have been a waste for nothing if you did. Cause if you walked away now, you'd never come back.

As you slowly slid from the rock, you decided on a plan. You'd walk back, find Nat to apologize, and attempt to mend whatever was left of the week. You and Nat had purposely planned more than one stop on this trip where Bradley could propose; he still could if things calmed down.

You followed the river back down the way you came, trying to figure out what to say, what to do, that would make the apology meaningful.

You would have to do it sooner than you thought. Cause the second you lifted your head at the sound of stones clacking hard against one another, Nat was striding towards you, completely lost in her thoughts.

Your initial thought would have been she was seeking you out had it not been for the devastated look on her face.

It left you frozen, unwilling to take a step further.  You had geared yourself up to swallow your hurt to apologize for a mess that hadn't been entirely yours, but standing here and now in front of her, you knew.

It wouldn't matter what you said. 

It's not a disappointment you see it reflected in her face. It's not love for a friend either or even dislike either. That would be giving her too much credit, and even after feeling sorry for what happened, acknowledging you owed her an apology, and burying that hurt aside, failed proposal or not, it comes rushing back inside. 

Even then, you still caved first.

"What can I say or do to make up for what just happened?" you manage to plead.

She scoffs in the face of your honest ask. "You really don't know?"

You shake your head hard. "No. No, I don't. Not for this. All I can do is ask and offer whatever apology I can that would truly make it up to you."

Nothing on Earth could have prepared you for something like this.

Her hand flew up, preventing you from saying another word. “Just save it,” she spat. “I don’t want to hear it, Maeve. Not now. Maybe not ever.” 

You gasped, and Nat's gaze hardened further, if possible.

 "You think you're the only one hurt by all this?" Her voice raised, bitter and cold.  "You think you're the only one with feelings? God, Midge, you can be so self-absorbed sometimes. It's always about you, isn't it?"

Your mouth dropped open like a fish. "You really think I wanted this," you emphasize by spreading your arms out wide, "To happen? Do you think I purposely wanted to fuck up your proposal just to get back at Jake? Come on, Nat!"

"Honestly?" she cries out. "I don't know!"

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "Wow. Okay then."  

"You've been so caught up in your own drama with hating Jake that you didn't even see what was happening right in front of you. How all of it has been affecting everyone else in the group?"

You don't mean for your anger to get the best of you or for it to be directed at Nat, but her remarks are so spiteful that you can't help the shrill laugh crawling up your throat.

"And you did? Like you haven't been the picture of understanding and support. You had to have seen the way Jessica and Veronica have been treating me. Where were you then?!"

Nat eyes you up and down like she's just caught you in a lie. "Funny you say that, 'cause they told me the same thing," she insinuates.  "How you've been less than welcoming. How you can't let things go. How you can't take a joke...."

Your jaw tightened, and the fact she was buying into their words and their stories without questioning it further stung harder than you wanted to believe. 

"So their behaviour is justified because I was standing up for myself? For things you never saw from the sound of it!?" 

And what does she do but shrug? The action is so dismissive it only fuels your frustration further. "You're not exactly innocent in all of this." 

You know it's not those two she's referring to. 

"What, Jake?" you mock. "You never told me Jake was coming on this trip. You've always known how I've felt about him, how it's always been between us, and you said nothing!"

"Because I thought you could handle it for one fucking week!"

"I leave a room the second I realize he's in it. I purposely go out of my way to avoid him. That's me fucking handling it! I avoid him at all costs because I can't stand to be in the same space as him without feeling like I will lose my mind. And you thought throwing us together was a good idea?!"

Nat didn't say anything, prompting you to continue. "A good friend tells her friend if the guy she hates is going on a week-long trip with them. A good friend acknowledges the hurt this person has caused..."

"A good friend explains why she dislikes a guy so much! She explains she lets them know...." Nat interrupts you, though you interrupt her right back.

"He's your fucking friend! I won't be the one to drive a wedge into a friend group that existed long before I ever came around!"

As if I could.

Nat's response was a mix of frustration and disbelief. "You just gave up! You just gave him the cold shoulder, and the next, you two were at each other's throats."

"And what?" you cried out.  "You just believed what Jessica and Veronica said about me? Without even asking my side? You know how they can be, Nat! you know!" 

Her eyes narrowed, and she moved closer, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. ”If you ever faced your problems instead of sprinting in the opposite direction, we wouldn't be in this mess. It's no wonder everything's falling apart around you."

Her words held you in a chokehold, a sharp intake of breath your only defence against the burning sting in your lungs. You remain silent, hurt flashing across your face as your eyes blur with unshed tears.

"Wow," you finally manage, voice croaking. "Kick me while I'm down. I'm sorry your proposal was ruined, Nat; I am. But that doesn't give you permission to be cruel." 

She turns her head away from you to stare at the water. You press on further. 

"Let's talk about this," you hold your arm up. "Or the fact I was the one hiding behind the bush first, not him. With my phone, trying to get photographs for you. Jake was the one who approached me. Who decided that was the best moment of all other times to start fucking with me. I might have pranked him earlier, but I wasn't about to do it during a moment such as that. I was the one telling him to back the fuck off. " 

Your eyes were welling up with tears, but you fought them back, refusing to let her see just how much she'd wounded you.

"Or let's talk about how Veronica gave me a snide remark about my art, and I stood up for myself, only to have her knock my brushes to the side. Or how they cornered Jake into pulling a prank that resulted in this?" you hold up your arm. 

She turns to you, her eyes harsh. "Like how you pranked Veronica?" 

You rolled your eyes. "It was meant for the Asshole, but you know what, I'm happy she got a little bit of Karma after everything you just admitted." 

Nat's face twisted, a mix of anger and something else you couldn't quite place. "You know what, Maeve? Maybe you're right. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. You and Jake, this trip, everything!" 

"And you think blaming me is going to make it better?"

Nat opened her mouth to retort but then closed it, pressing her lips into a thin line. The anger seemed to drain from her face momentarily, replaced by a weary resignation.

"Maybe I never should have invited you instead."

You bit your bottom lip, nodding more to yourself than to her. A sad noise crept up your throat, a laugh, though it was one more of resignation, maybe even ironic amusement. The thought comes rushing forward to sweep you off your feet like the first time you heard it.

Because Jake was right, after all.

Standing there wounded and silent, in the hardness of Nat's eyes, you conclude that perhaps you were never really a friend in the first place.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe you never should have. At least then, I wouldn't have spent years thinking we were actually friends after all."

Shaking your head, you turned away from her, the weight of everything pressing down on you. With each step you took, the sound of the river beside you grew louder, its rushing waters seeming to beckon you forward. The thought that if you could allow yourself to be swept away, to tumble over the waterfall at its end, flashed through your mind. That would be enough to wash away the pain. 

Nat sighed loudly from behind you and then called out after you, "Midge, stop!"

The fact she called you Midge, not Maeve, made your resolve burn brighter.

You twisted, continuing to walk backwards. You dramatically threw your hands out to the side as you sarcastically called out through your tears, "Why should I? I only think about myself, right? Make everything about me? Why quit now when I'm only following in the example you've so clearly set?"

You sniffed a breath, and then the remark slipped past your lips, the defence mechanism you've used in all other circumstances, finally landing a blow on someone you once considered a friend. You purposely stopped, raising your hands to clap against the thick fabric of the bandage on your arm.

"Let's give a round of applause and a standing ovation to the one and only Natasha Trace, the saint who never does anything wrong!" you dropped, bending yourself down into a dramatic bow. "Bravo for putting up with me for so long! What an Oscar-worthy performance, indeed!"

You didn't bother seeing her reaction, purposely straightening yourself to turn back to walk the path ahead. Honestly, you didn't want to see it either.

You simply had enough.

All those years you spent fighting against the words of one jock in your apartment bathroom because you didn't want to lose Nat as a friend - gone in minutes.  

Fighting your sobs, you tried to devise some plan, anything beyond your initial decision to leave as you stormed forward. Perhaps some other tourist below would take pity on your situation and let you tag along back to the park entrance. There was a bus station there. You could buy a ticket back into the city and then take the train home.

Either way, your decision to leave had been the obviously correct one. Nat made that so abundantly clear.

You could see the opening to the slope from a distance, and you took a moment to compose yourself. Wiping at the lingering tears on your face, you drew in sharp, equal breaths, hoping the fresh air would calm you down.  If you were about to ask a total stranger for help, you couldn't do it looking like this.

You tilted your head back on your shoulders, closing your eyes as you tried to feel the breeze on your face, seeking solace in its cool embrace. You let your hand rest on the nearby tree, trying to feel the sensation of its bark under the palm of your hand. Rolling your head forward, you shook your shoulders, straightening your posture before opening your eyes.

But the path ahead was no longer empty. And you caught sight of the last person you wanted to see, making their way up the hill. 

The universe was a fine-flecked bitch, so that it would seem. Because there was Jake, in all his glory, precariously walking up the slope. 

Seeing him sends the sensation of sheer ice shooting across your skin. And the hurt that had found a home inside your chest amplifies into an overwhelming urge to run. Run, and never look back. Run and escape.

Run. Run. Run. Run.

But is it from him? Or from his words and the truth in them, haunting, following you from that night? A truth that was proven only a mere few seconds ago.

Panic flutters in your chest at the thought he'd seen you, and you spin rapidly on your heel, hoping you could find another path or maybe even hide until he accomplished whatever he intended to do by coming up here.

But your bag snags on a branch, and you wince as the leaves rustle obnoxiously, knowing that if Jake hadn't seen you standing there before, he certainly would now.

Jake lifted his head at the sudden noise, only to see a quick flash of bright blue. Your sleeping bag curled on top of your backpack disappeared behind the thick trunk of a tree.

"Midge, wait!"

Like hell, I'd wait for you.

His voice spurs you on, taking off into the thick underbrush. Jake is undeterred in the slightest, taking off after you.  He wasn't far behind, having extended his pace to get to you quicker once he was up the side of the hill.  You were at a disadvantage; your short legs were no match for his long ones, and your heavy bag only weighed you down.

Your only hope would be to lose him in the bush, counting on his height, build, and weight even, to slow him down and watch where he was going. You were small, yes, but you could get through the gaps or the trees better than he ever could.

But Jake was uncaring if thorns were ripping at his jeans or if branches were smacking him in the face. He was so fucking stubborn, and his drive was absolute. If not to get you to talk, then not to let you disappear into the woods alone.

"Midge, stop running! I'm not going to hurt you!"

His voice came from everywhere and anywhere, seemingly bouncing off trees and down the paths they grew, a haunting echo that unleashed a fresh wave of tears. As you rounded the corner of a tree, you came across an intriguing root system twisting along the ground when your vision blurred.

You cried out when you tripped over a root. You caught yourself and, without stopping, lifted your arm so the bandage might catch the tears rushing down your face, feet continuing to step in the spaces between the roots blindly.

You did. You have been. And you probably still will.

The thought, bitter and resigned, fueled your steps farther and farther. The underbrush grabbed at your legs like hands pulling you down. Burs stuck to the fabric of your leggings and pricked at your skin. Branches whipped at your face and arms, leaving thin lines of red in their wake. But the thought of losing Jake, getting out of this park and never seeing him again urged you on.

But when you finally burst through the underbrush, expecting to find a trail, a slope down, or even a trail marker to tell you where to go, you were met with nothing of the sort. It was a dead end, a sheer cliff drop that had you skidding to a jarring halt against stone ground. Gravel slid beneath your feet, and your arms flailed wildly as you desperately tried to save your balance.

Your heart must have stopped briefly as you were forced to look down, confronting the edge of this unexpected cliff and the daunting drop below. While not lethal, a fall like this would only lead to injury, one you wouldn't tempt fate for.

A cold wave of realization washed over you as you finally regained your balance and looked around. The ledge you found yourself on was a narrow outcropping that offered no path forward, only a steep fall or retreat back through the bush toward Jake.

You were utterly, utterly trapped.

Twigs snapped under Jake's boot as he stepped out from behind the bush. His breath was laboured, audible harsh pants that had you reaching up to cup your hands over your ears before sliding them forward to cover your eyes.

I can't do this now. I can't do this now.

"Why do you always run from me?"

You couldn't think. Nothing was coming forth to save you now. No witty retort or clever line. No semblance of that resolve that rushed through your veins before. You were literally incapable of rescuing or being enough to save yourself from what was about to unfold.

So, your anger rose up to greet you like a long-lost friend instead. 

"You don't get to ask me that! Why do you even care?" The words erupted from you louder and more forceful than you'd care to admit, letting your hands fall from your face to smack against the side of your thighs. "What the fuck more could you possibly want from me, Jake?! What... what was the point of you chasing me? To corner me? To say more about me or remind me how much of a fuck up I really am? To drive the wedge, the fucking knife, deeper?"

Even as you yelled, you still couldn't face him.

"Everyone in this fucking camp hates me! In general. Do you think I don’t know what people say? How they look at me? And you… you’re no different. You’ve made your thoughts about me crystal clear from the second I met you." 

You stomped forward, pointing your finger into his chest. "We made a fucking deal not to ruin their week for them. We agreed. But you just had to cause shit. You just had to bang that pot; you just had to put away the coffee; you just had to think of the worst fucking shortcut; you just had to scream, bear. You just had to hurt me!" 

You were panting hard, thumping your finger into his chest. 

"I told you. You throw that shit at me. I'll throw that shit back. So thank you for that, because if your point in all of that was to end Nat and I's friendship and kick me out of the group, then congratulations. You succeed!" 

As he absorbed the full force of your words, the pure hurt pouring out of you, he seemed to deflate right before your eyes. For a moment, he stood there, his features softening and his usual cocky confidence nowhere in sight. Some might have even called it a genuine look of distress and confusion. 

Jake's voice was barely above a whisper when his shoulders slumped, and he asked defeatedly, "Why do you hate me so much, Midge? What did I do?"

In his honest green eyes, you could see the plea for an answer, any answer that might get you to open up to him and simply explain.

But you couldn't.

How could you explain the reason you yelled, shouted, snarked, and downright hated him was because he had been completely right? At the infamous Halloween party, you caught him about to hook up with that girl in your bathroom, uttering about your supposed friendship with Natasha?

How, since that moment, you had been running from him because it was the easier option? Better than giving yourself over to the possible truth - a truth you have seen time and time again. Because allowing yourself to feel hurt over catching him with another girl when he flirted and showed an interest in you for most of the night was better than possibly ruining the one friendship you had.

It shouldn't even matter right now. You already had. And just like that night, Jake had been right the first day by the lake. You did run away from your problems.

Because I don't know how to do anything else.

His question hung in the air, a plea for some understanding, some clue, some indication of how things could have gotten so bad between you.

A gasp tore from your throat instead.

Not because you were outwardly expressing your frustration and struggle in answering him, but for the fact you caught sight of a massive creature emerging from the treeline behind him.

Every emotion you had felt before vanished at the sight and was replaced with only two: panic and fear.

Your arm moved by its own accord, your hand latching onto Jake's sleeve. He tried to tug his arm back, but you wouldn't let him. You were near catatonic, your grip as strong as metal and your face pale as ice as you watched the approaching creature finally notice your presence. With its mouth hung open, the brown monster stood on its haunches to inquire if you were friend, foe, or its next meal.

Jake remained clueless to your reaction, frowning when he reached up to pry your hand away, unaware of the approaching threat. "What the fuck, Midge. Let me go!"

You couldn't. You couldn't let Jake go. You couldn't do anything except stutter out, "baaa baaa... Bear!"

How your legs hadn't given out yet, you had no clue.

"Really? Do you think I'm going to fall for that after what I did to you? No way. Stop changing the damn subject and give me an answer."

You're not sure how you managed it, but you attempted to hit him on his shoulder, nervous energy causing you to let up on the force behind such a move. You hadn't even felt the sting of your bandaged wrist, adrenaline masking any pain you might have felt, even if it was a rather flimsy attempt.

You still hadn't taken your eyes off the brown animal. It was massive, rugged, and looked like it had no protests about which one of you it would eat first. The scar across its back and face was another story altogether, too. Its teeth would have no problem tearing into Jake; you'd merely be a tiny slice of desert. Or the appetizer.

"Midge, stop and talk to me like a fucking adult!"

The fact he still didn't listen to you seemed to wake you out of your stupor.

"Turn the fuck around and look, you idiot!"

You aren't sure if your prompting would have gotten Jake to turn around and look. Because once you finally managed to gather the courage to draw your eyes away from the thing deciding who to go after first, Jake's face was frozen, contemplating if you were telling the truth.

The bear roared, shattering any doubt.

His reaction was instant, eyes flaring and mouth hanging slightly. He spun, shooting out his arm as his hand made contact with your hip, urging you behind him. Your hands scrambled for anything to grab onto as he turned, eventually settling on clutching the strap of Jake's backpack.

If you weren't so scared, you might have wondered why Jake was here, putting himself in harm's way for you. You might have even whipped out a sarcastic, "Yeah, that's right. Eat him first, you wild creature."

But either one of you had anywhere to go. And even if you could manage to distract it, there was no way either of you could outrun it.

"What are we going to do?" you shot out nervously.

"It's a bear, Midge!" Jake rushed out. "Just stay the fuck behind me."

You panicked and snapped back, "I saw it first! I know what a bear looks like!"

It bellowed, making Jake jolt backwards. You let out a cry, burying your face into the back of his massive bag.

The bear safety facts from the class the park rangers made you take before you ventured into the park are conveniently missing from your mind. All except the one you whisper harshly, "They tell you not to run."

Jake's voice cut through the tension. "Well, if we can't run, I guess now's a good time to see who can yell louder?"

"You really want to start a shouting match now?!"

"Were you paying any attention in that safety class? Running. No. Yelling. Yes. Surely, between the two of us, we can manage that!"

"I was doing that before it decided to show up! What makes you think that's not the reason it sought us out, dumbass?"

"Because I refuse to believe my sparkling personality is what attracts bears!"

You laughed sharply as the bear seemed to be weighing its options. You were not sure why it hadn't decided to charge the two of you yet, but you would have bet good money it had to do with the scars littered across its body.

"You called for one the other night, remember? Practically pulled a Dory!"

"Don't hate on a children's Icon, Midge!"

"I'm hating on you for what you did to me! They aren't mutually exclusive things!"

Jake took a careful step forward, testing the waters. You shuffled with him, eager to put space between you and the ledge. The creature tilted its head as if pressing its ear to the ground. Then, without warning, it let out a deep, resonating roar directly at the both of you. You buried your face into Jake's backpack again, trying not to scream.

"That was probably not one of my best ideas."

Your voice was muffled against the fabric. "Want me to make a list?"

Jake's laugh was nervous. "Only if I can make one for you."

The bear, seemingly unimpressed by your banter, shifted its weight, causing Jake and you to tense up again.

"Thinking yelling at a bear would actually work as a deterrent is on it."

"We're supposed to yell at it, not at each other."

"You think it can tell the difference?" you asked him, your voice pitchy. "It doesn't matter who or what we are yelling at."

Jake managed a strained smile.  "Common ground. Wow, we're practically bonding over here."

"Because nothing brings people closer like shared trauma," you snap, fear sharpening your words. "I'm tripping you first."

"I'm leaving you behind."

"I'll feed you to the bear myself."

"I run faster, scared than you do, mad."

"Hang on, let me find a stick and shove it up your ass."

Jake's eyebrows shot up. "Now there's the Midge I know."

Peering over Jake's arm, the bear made a sudden, decisive lunge forward with a single paw, claws extended, as if taunting its prey, waiting to see if the two of you would scramble. The move was unexpectedly aggressive, and it sent the two of you scrambling backwards in panic.

Neither of you realized how close to the cliff's edge you actually were. Only when your boots slid again on gravel, and you were brought back to a few moments ago when you nearly fell over yourself.

"Jake! The cliff!" you cried out, desperately trying to push on his backpack. You could feel it, one or maybe two more inches, and you'd be slipping off the edge.

"Hang on to me!"

"What do you think I'm doing?" You shot back, your words laced with adrenaline-fueled irritation and fear. However, you did find your grip miraculously tightening further to anchor yourself to him. But you couldn't with your injured hand, trying desperately to wind it through the straps across the bag instead.

Jake's mind flickered rapidly between the bear and the crackling stone beneath his feet. "Okay, new plan. We let it charge, and we dodge."

"And your an action movie junkie, that's never going to work!" you rushed out. 

"What else do we have, Midge?!"

Honestly? Nothing.

Jake widened his stance, almost as if he was sizing up the bear. You mirrored his movement as best you could, though it seemed futile with your smaller stature.

"When I move, you move!" Jake's voice was sharp, a clear command, and if this were any other circumstance, your instinctive retort would have been a defiant, "Don't tell me what to do!"

For this?

 Nope. Have at it, Jake. Maybe they'll let me torture you in hell.

It was stupid. Idiotic even. But what else could the two of you do? You were literally boxed in—no way to go.

Then something popped under your foot. And above the frantic beating of your heart, more menacing than the bear's growls, came a sickly sound that made your blood run cold.

An ominous crack.

What followed was worse - a series of smaller yet equally sinister sounds and the feeling of pieces of stone wobbling beneath your feet. You didn't dare look down, for you already knew.

The damn cliff was falling apart.

"Jake!"  Your voice was desperate, trying to pierce through his concentration. But he hadn't heard you, solely focused on when this bear would finally decide to leap. Or maybe he did and thought it was you being scared.

You shoved at his back, but he was like a brick wall, and you had nothing to ground yourself with.

You shouldn't have tried to push him, either. The second you tried to apply some force behind another shove, a chunk of stone came loose, allowing the ground beneath your feet to give away.

You dropped with a cry, legs knocking hard into the fragmented pieces of stone, and you found yourself dangling, held aloft solely by the one strap of Jake's backpack. The elastic straps around your wrist had already snapped against your bandage, freeing your arm, and it waved out, reaching for something that had never been there in the first place.

Jake fell backwards at the weight, causing him to step back at an angle. He called out your name and tried to keep his eyes on the bear while trying to reach for you blindly. You were trying to bring your legs up to a section of stone that looked stable enough to not give under pressure so you might be able to grab his hand. But with how heavy your pack was, you couldn't gain enough momentum to swing your leg over, no matter how hard you tried.

Suddenly, his hand gripped the bend of your elbow hard enough that you were sure there would be bruises if either of you managed to get out of this in one piece.

"Let go, Midge! I'll pull you up!"

"The bear!"

"It's still deciding which one of us to eat first!"

"Don't take your eyes off it!"

"What do you think I'm doing? Picking daisies?!"

You weren't sure what was louder—the bear's unsettling clacking or the ominous sounds of stone shifting ominously under Jake's weight. The truth was, you didn't want to find out.

You let go, entrusting your entire weight into Jake's hold, crying out when you dropped a few inches. But whether it was your cry or Jake needing to ensure your safety over his own, he dared to take his eyes off the bear to glance over his shoulder.

That was all it took for everything to happen all at once.

The brief shift in his gaze, the twist of his waist, and the slight lean were enough to unsettle the already compromised ground beneath him. With a heart-sinking crack, the remaining piece of the cliffside he was perched on gave way.

The bear roared, charging forward at the prospect of losing its meal.  And Jake lost his balance, using the momentum to twist his body to fully face you, some last-minute attempt to ensure your safety if he could, with a look of a thousand promises he could never make nor keep.

But you didn't see it. You were too busy watching the last crumbling stone disappear from underneath Jake's boots before gravity took over, cruel and unforgiving, as you finally started to fall.

For a breathless moment, you were suspended in the air, Jake's figure falling forward with you, nothing but white overcast clouds behind him. His hand was still gripping your elbow, and his eyes were wide, the realization of what was about to occur striking him hard.

With a final decisive tug born out of desperation, Jake pulled you close as he tumbled over, your face colliding with the solid wall of his chest. His other arm wrapped around your back, around your bag, his body twisting mid-air with you in his grasp, ensuring in the split second before gravity claimed its due, you were on top of him, not beneath.

Then, with a terrifying rush, the two of you fell, the ground rushing up to greet you both. Another roar of the bear above faded into the roar of the wind in your ears. With the pit forming in the pit of your stomach, above the wind, the scream you produced vibrating against Jake's chest was worse.

What happened after that, you couldn't recall.

The world didn't fade but snapped to black.

Had to throw the cliffhanger in there somewhere? 😂😅💛

Taglist:

@desert-fern @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @kmc1989 @fanficfandomlove @hookslove1592 @dakotakazansky

@teacupsandtopgun @lynnevanss @dizzybee03 @keyrani

@shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @dempy @stargazer-88 @alldaysdreamer @the-dark-and-mystery @bookchik15

@atarmychick007 @tinytotontheoversizedpony @buckysteveloki-me @wretchedmo

@redbarn1995 @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @yuckosworld @wren5650 @mrsevans90 @bellaireland1981 @tgmreader

@halibshepherd @essie1876 @formulafun @memoriesat30 @vicsnook @memoriesat30

Please let me know if Tumblr didn't notify you! I've been having issues with being tagged in things myself. If that is the case, I can work on trying to find an alternative.

Part 7 - My Blood - In-progress

[the-mozzarella-brothers]

Hello again!! I am quite busy with schoolwork at the moment, so sorry if I won't be sending asks often 🥲

I am Polish btw, so my English is kinda stiff lol. I've seen you're Jewish, and to be honest I don't know much about Jewish culture, so sorry if some stuff might sound offensive to you, it's not on purpose. I know that most Jews don't celebrate Christmas, so I don't know if it'd be proper if I wished you a merry Christmas in some time.

Anyways, I love your music taste! Haven't been listening to the monkees much, but I enjoy classical rock and country, and also Bob Dylan and The Beatles obviously 😁

By the way, I followed you on last.fm, I'm almond_biscuits, I haven't been scrobbling for long though

So, what are your favourite songs of all time? You can list of many as you want to 😊 Do you have any pets? Also, what are your hobbies or interests? I personally like to draw, but I'm morbidly pedantic when it comes to art so yeah, I'm not really a full-fledged artist 😭

Srry if the emotes are cringey, I literally can't write without them lolz ( IM NOT A MILLENNIAL THO I SWEAR IM GEN Z)

oh it's alright if it takes u a while to send asks! it's been taking me a while with the person i'm secret santa-ing and schools over for the year for me (i live in australia) :)

also that's sick that ur polish!!!!!! that's so cool!!! it's alright if you don't know much about jewish culture, im not super religious anyway :) i don't actually celebrate christmas, but in the context of the secret santa it's alright to wish me merry christmas if that's what's easy for you :)

also your music taste looks so good too!!! looking through your last fm i feel like i'm in an old record store or something it's so cool!!

my favourite songs! this'll be hard (i'm indecisive). here goes (no particular order):

- awaiting on you all (early take) - george harrison

- while my guitar gently weeps (live in japan) - george harrison

- איתו לנצח - kerach tesha

יהיה פיצוץ - shabak samech

listen to the band - michael nesmith and the first national band

something (anthology 3 version) - the beatles

and like way more but i'm tired

unfortunately i dont have any pets :( but i would like a cat or a dog one day! or perhaps a lizard.

i also really like drawing sometimes, currently working on a piece, and i also do ballet and contemporary dance :)

the emojis are fine dont worry, i personally dont use them much except 👍 but they do not bother me at all :) my friends and bf use them a lot!

also omg i thought i posted this ages ago i just realised i saved it in my drafts whoops!!! very sorry my heads been everywhere this week

[fictionz]

New Fiction 2023 - September

"Baruch" ed. Richard Challoner (1752)

A short interlude before another juggernaut of a chapter.

Creature Teacher by R.L. Stine (1998)

They really hold out on the monsters here in Series 2000, so this is a welcome entry.

Invasion of the Body Squeezers - Part 1 by R.L. Stine (1998)

An unnecessarily long red herring.

Invasion of the Body Squeezers - Part 2 by R.L. Stine (1998)

That's some way to prevent an extinction event.

I'm Your Evil Twin! by R.L. Stine (1998)

They always do the ol' switcharoo.

Revenge R Us by R.L. Stine (1998)

The Uncut Gems of Goosebumps.

Fright Camp by R.L. Stine (1998)

Fool me several dozen times, shame on us all.

Headless Halloween by R.L. Stine (1998)

Here we GOOOOO. A+ Goosebumps.

Attack of the Graveyard Ghouls by R.L. Stine (1998)

A bit weirder but still more welcome than kids being dicks and no actual spooky happenings.

Brain Juice by R.L. Stine (1998)

Just bizarre. Leaning a little too far into the weird science angle I've no interest for in these books.

The Deadly Experiments of Dr. Eeek by R.L. Stine (1996)

Nope. These gamebooks aren't good for reading one after another, and the ones that more or less stay in place are especially meh.

Night in Werewolf Woods by R.L. Stine (1996)

Another meh entry in spite of the werewolves running around.

Beware of the Purple Peanut Butter by R.L. Stine (1996)

More weird science and generally not scary stuff, less and less interesting.

"Hotline Miami" by KC Green (2023)

The speedrun.

"I was told by my doctor that this'll completely compensate my human meat diet" by scribblingchimp (2023)

Gotta find an alternate.

"Carl's Date" dir. Bob Peterson (2023)

Good to see the gang again.

The Equalizer 3 dir. Antoine Fuqua (2023)

Didn't need to do all that.

Bottoms dir. Emma Seligman (2023)

The kids are alright.

Elemental dir. Peter Sohn (2023)

A personal story.

They Live dir. John Carpenter (1988)

That's a long fight.

Jawan dir. Atlee (2023)

The Robin Hood we need.

Christine dir. John Carpenter (1983)

Somehow, a car is scary.

The LEGO Movie dir. Phil Lord & Christopher Miller (2014)

Too familiar, but perhaps because it kicked off something we've seen a lot of since then.

Outlaw Johnny Black dir. Michael Jai White (2023)

A fun and shooty romp.

Satanic Hispanics dir. Alejandro Brugués , Mike Mendez, Gigi Saul Guerrero, Eduardo Sánchez, Demián Rugna (2023)

The anthology offers much.

Prey dir. Dan Trachtenberg (2022)

Hell yes. If they made Predator movies that are just "a Predator fights someone at this point in history" I'd be all in.

Tales from the Crypt Presents: Demon Knight dir. Ernest Dickerson (1995)

Definitely a feature-length version of an episode, but they pull it off.

Tales from the Crypt Presents: Bordello of Blood dir. Gilbert Adler (1996)

Or do they? But this is still better than...

Tales from the Crypt Presents: Ritual dir. Avi Nesher (2002)

A very boring movie like this.

Vault of Horror dir. Freddie Francis (1973)

Ooh that second story is tops.

Tales from the Crypt dir. Freddie Francis (1972)

This first movie was just a tad too straight-faced. Where's the camp?!

The Origin of Evil dir. Sébastien Marnier (2023)

A-n-x-i-e-t-y.

The Expendables 4 dir. Scott Waugh (2023)

I know they can't all come back every time, but the concept seems to be slipping away from them.

The Creator dir. Gareth Edwards (2023)

Hm. Striving toward something I might've liked but somehow doesn't land.

Tales from the Crypt - Season 7 (1996)

I've been annoyed with many people writing off season 7 as not worth watching. It's fine! There's even a few episodes really worth watching.

Tales from the Cryptkeeper - Season 1 (1993)

Basically Goosebumps, so John Kassir recording wraparounds is what makes it special.

Star Trek Strange New Worlds - Season 2 (2023)

I like it, but 10 episodes is not enough. Bouncing from fun to deadly serious episodes too often makes it feel disjointed.

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

for the hermitcraft ask game: all of them. I literally cannot pick

LONG ASS POST AHEAD THANKS A LOT PANGO (AFFECTIONATE)

🐶 What hermits do you watch?

... god this list is gonna be long. Okay so, ripping from the hc member list here: Bdubs, Cub, Doc, False, Scar, Grian, Gem (sort of), Impulse, Joehills, Keralis, Mumbo, Pearl, Ren, Tango, xB, Xisuma, Zedaph, Cleo. I have dabbled in a couple of videos from the others.

🐱 Who was your first hermit?

Grian (it shows)

🐰 Who is your favourite hermit?

Can't choose just one. How dare you. Cub, Joe, Scar, Grian, Mumbo... the list goes on...

🐼 Who is one hermit you haven't watched yet but want to?

Etho! I did binge a compilation of his decked out runs, which was fun.

🐸 What year did you start watching hermitcraft?

This year (2023) baybee

🐵 What season did you watch first?

Season 9!

🐧 What is your favourite season?

I have only watched season 8 and 9, so... 9 I suppose!

🐝 What is your favourite hermitcraft moment?

No idea! Probably the Empires crossover? Or possibly the tunnel bore incident. Also recently really enjoyed Cleo and Jevin's museum heist.

🦝 Do you watch any streams?

Not really. Sometimes I will catch a few minutes of Scar's, and I will stick around for Joehills streams on occasion.

🍂 How many hermits are you subscribed to on YouTube?

I am not counting just assume I remembered to sub to all the ones I listed in the first question.

🍄 Do you only watch hermitcraft content, or do you watch their other videos too?

I watch the life series stuff, Impulse's horror game streams (especially with GIGS), Xisuma's update + mythbusting videos, New Life stuff, and occasional bits and bobs that come up on their channels.

🌻 Are you also in the life series fandom?

Literally my introduction to the fandom, yeah.

🌕 What is your favourite hermitcraft build?

RAHHHH this is such a hard question. For season 9 I really love Cub's museum and Joe's pinball machine, but also False's base + elytra course and of course Decked Out 2. Anything Bdubs builds is genuinely beautiful. For season 8 I've only really seen the Boatem bases and those were all really cool.

🌗 Do you have a favourite quote/favourite quotes?

"You never know if you're gonna wake up in the morning :D" "Something WEIRD is happening at cheapslate!" (will not leave my brain)

🌑 Do you have a favourite shop?

Ren's new record shop/recording studio my beloved. Also the Entity. Because that thang has flesh.

🌙 If you could join hermitcraft, would you?

If I had a decent video-making setup, yeah. I think I'd manage to fit in, if I was about 8 years older than I am XD

🪐 If you joined hermitcraft, who would you team with?

[resisting the urge to say Grian] uh, Joe? He seems a little lonely this season.

💫 Have you met any hermits?

Nope, but I've chatted with Joe a couple times over stream chat- he is nice.

⭐️ If you could meet your favourite hermit, what would you say to them? / If you've met your favourite hermit, what did you say?

'Favourite hermit'. LOL. (I would likely be quite awkward as I have never met someone I consider a 'celebrity' before and I would not want to be weird. But I would be weird)

🌟 Have you been to any conventions?

No, my aunt goes to a lot of them and I wish I was available to go to them too! Curse education.

✨ Do you have any merch?

Nope, but just ordered some signed TCG cards for my beloved!

🌈 Are you immune to the good times? (no, no you are not)

No. The good times are not immune to me.

[bloggingboutburgers]

mate your aro/ace comics ROCK i relate to all of them so heavily and i love your art style please please please keep them up. never seen bobs burgers so might not be following but if it isn't too much effort could you perhaps tag us in some of the aroaspec comics? your work is SPECTACULAR have a great day :]

@darubyprincxx Heya! Thank you very much for the kind words, it means a lot TwT Since one can follow tags on tumblr, based on your question, I've decided to make a tag for these comics so they can be recognized at all times, so if you'd like, you can follow that now I suppose, if that'd be OK? The tag is "#no one can know i don't like sex" (hopefully I don't get in trouble for that one or whatever).

Also, just for the record, my blog's a bit of a mess but to be honest I AM heavily considering making most of its content ace/aro comics for the foreseeable future, and possibly changing my username/theming based on that, so... Just saying just in case!

It wouldn't be 100% that, because I do like talking about stuff I like from time to time, and I like drawing other stuff too, this blog has become a big of just whatever I like at the moment and I don't wanna brand it just into one thing, because living off just one art theme tends to age poorly, but... Yeah, just saying. I'm super happy these aro/ace comics are liked, because sharing my experience as aro/ace means a whole lot to me too, and consequently there's probably much more where that came from.

...Anyway why can't I just write a short answer I'm so sorry

[professorspork]

If you're accepting non-superhell prompts, I'd love to see a conversation between Nora and Emerald! I've been REALLY loving these microfics, I've subscribed to you on Ao3, I'll read whatever else you write

[Gahhh that’s so nice you’re so nice!! thanks for being patient on this one, finding my Nora took some doing]

It’s occurring to Emerald that she’s never had a close female friend before.

You say that like you’ve ever had any friends before, the voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Mercury needles her, but she brushes it aside. Like—okay, yeah, she’ll concede the point when it comes to Cinder. In hindsight, whatever they’d had going on between them may have been... super intense... but it probably had never been friendship, in the usual definition. But she and Mercury were friends, no matter what the judgy little shitstain version of him who lives in her head has to say about it. They’d always gotten along. Told each other stuff. It’s not like there’s more to it than that, right?

It had always been like that. Been—instinctive somehow, with guys. Before Cinder, on the street, it was always the men who’d been easiest to manipulate; who would empty their pockets for a smile and a sob story. And then she and Merc had been two sides of the same coin for so long, and then... well, Hazel’d liked her enough to die for her, apparently. (Which—that’s a door that she keeps closed, thanks. She shuts it firmly again, now.) Oscar seems fond of her, in a sweet, uncomplicated sort of way that she really doesn’t know what to do with, seeing as he shares headspace with like a trillion year old man and the idea that anything to do with that kid could be “uncomplicated” is batshit. Ren vouched for her once, and then again, and now he keeps doing it, like it’s habit, like she should just be used to the fact that people are going to have her back, to ask her if she’s eaten, to turn to her with a raised eyebrow in conversation like her opinion would be constructive.

Anyway.

Now that she’s noticed the pattern, it seems like the kind of thing she should probably… work on, or whatever. And Nora seems like an obvious place for Emerald to start. They’ve been thrown in together a lot, lately, Emerald and Oscar expected to fill in the gaps of what’s left of the old JNPR by default. Not that they’ve ever really had a conversation about it—Emerald can’t think of the last time Nora said two words to her that weren’t combat warnings like “more Grimm coming” or “on your left,” but. That’s probably just because things have been tense. She remembers Nora being friendly, on the whole of it. Off-puttingly friendly, even, back at Beacon.

How hard could it be?

The answer, it turns out, is absurdly hard. Nora’s barely ever in the temporary barracks they’re all living out of, instead always checking on the refugees, going on supply runs over esoteric requests, volunteering for extra patrols. Emerald used to find that kind of dogged do-goodery gag-inducing, but now that she’s been the helping hand herself a few times, she’s starting to see the appeal. The way people look at you when you’ve been of service, it’s—nice. Really nice. But Nora works utterly thankless jobs, the kind most people don’t even notice, let alone appreciate. And when they have their insufferably long leadership meetings and they’re talking about distribution of resources or whatever, Nora’s a fierce debater—jumping in to advocate for the people from Mantle sometimes even before May can. As far as Emerald can tell, she does this stuff just because... she believes in it. Because it’s the right thing to do, and someone has to.

She can’t imagine what it would feel like, to have the attention of someone like that turned on her. She’s craved it from the wrong people for so long, but now that she has her pick of options... she’s letting herself actually want the right kind, for once. She thinks.

Which is all to say that largely through no fault of her own, Emerald unexpectedly finds herself sitting with a profound, fervent desire for Nora Valkyrie to think she’s cool.

She hates that.

-

Fighting with Nora is easy.

(—er. Alongside. Fighting alongside Nora is easy. Emerald’s done fighting with these people. Very done.)

It’s weird, because Emerald’s finding working with a full team to be a real adjustment. When battles get big enough to merit it, she’s used to keeping to the sidelines to use her Semblance for nefarious purposes, or, in a jam, used to having Mercury’s six—literally, because all the forward momentum from his feet-first style always left his back wide open. Figuring out where to put herself so that Oscar can use her shoulder as a fulcrum as he dodges, or trying to aim for the Grimm Ren isn’t already shooting (ugh)—it’s taking work.

But somehow, it’s not work for Nora. Nora seems to anticipate with perfect ease how Emerald will move or what she’ll be doing; Nora bobs and weaves around their ragtag little band with her war hammer like it’s breathing.

It doesn’t bother Emerald until it does, and she means to bring it up casually but there’s never a good time. So it just… stews, and stews, until she can’t keep it bottled up anymore.

Which means that instead of the earnest question she intends it to be, it comes out like this:

“Okay, seriously? It’s creepy how you do that.”

It’s just the two of them, plus the handful of dweeby Atlesian tech-types they’re escorting back from their foray installing some fancy hydro-filtration modules on the outskirts of the camp. And it’s not like Emerald had felt outmatched by the half-dozen Ravagers that had decided they looked like lunch—she can shoot Ravagers in her sleep, at this point—but still. The way Nora had moved around her, it was like they’d been fighting side by side for years.

Nora just cocks her head to the side. “Do what?” she asks, like she hadn’t just basically read Emerald’s mind in front of the water nerds.

Emerald does a complicated gesture with her hands, wrist over wrist, and then flicking two fingers—trying to evoke the way Nora had flipped over Emerald’s back and then kicked off, just trusting Emerald would reel her back in with a chain in midair before a Grimm could fly away with her sorry ass. “That.”

“Oh!” Nora laughs and rubs at the back of her neck, looking sheepish. “It’s nothing. I guess it’s just not a big deal for me? Like—I was there when Ren built StormFlower. The cables are newish, but we practiced so much back in Atlas… I dunno. It’s just reflex, when your weapons are so similar. Fighting with you, it’s almost like fighting with him. I don’t even have to think about it.”

Nora swallows, then, and makes a face Emerald can’t interpret—disappointed, maybe, or ashamed. Which: good. She probably should be, taking things for granted like that.

“Well—just—” Emerald’s not even sure what she wants to say. Ask, next time? Don’t? “You shouldn’t make assumptions. I’m not your boyfriend, okay?”

The venom she puts behind the word is directed more at herself than Nora—frustrated, again, that she’s put herself in the position of wanting so desperately to be liked.

Pathetic.

Nora just nods, looking glum.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, cheeks pulling in a bitter smile. “You’d think I’d be able to keep that one straight, huh?”

She says it with such pointed irony that for a second Emerald wonders if she’d gotten it wrong somehow, but like—Nora and Ren are a thing, right? That’s—everyone knows that.

“Hey, what—?”

“Let’s just go,” Nora says, and Emerald automatically falls into line behind her.

They make the rest of the walk back in silence.

-

Sometimes at night, when she can’t sleep, Emerald likes to climb up to the roof of the barracks and look out over the refugee camp.

It’s—peaceful, is all. A good reminder of where she is; how far she’s come. The night sky in Vacuo has more stars than she’s ever seen, and being able to watch over all these people who have somehow become her responsibility… well.

A part of her will always be standing on the rooftop at Beacon, looking down on pure chaos as a queasy, frightened sensation twists in her gut and its noxious voice whispers you did this, you did this, you did this. What did you think was going to happen, you stupid little girl? You don’t get to feel sorry for it now.

But she does.

Weird how the only thing that’s helped is actually doing something about it.

She hears a scuffling noise over her shoulder, and she’s got Thief’s Respite drawn and ready before she can even really register what she’s heard. She relaxes when she sees it’s Nora at the other end of the barrels, unarmed and hands raised—a funny little smile on her face, like yeah, fair enough, I should have known better than to try and sneak up.

“Just me,” she says, unnecessarily.

Emerald holsters her guns. “Can I help you?” she asks, and—what is it about her voice, that makes sentences that would be nice if any other human said them come out straight-up hostile?

Nora shrugs, hands dropping to her sides. “I was hoping we could talk; I figured you’d come up here if I waited long enough.”

Well, see—what kind of lesson is she supposed to take from that? She’s been hoping for Nora to talk to her for weeks, and acting like a bitch is the thing that gets her what she wants? Good guys are supposed to know better.

And there’s the way she said it, too. Like everyone knows Emerald comes up here to brood; like it’s a big open secret. The knowledge sits uncomfortably in her stomach, makes her feel watched. Even now, even here, she can’t get a moment alone. Not really.

“What, so you’re spying on me now?”

Nora’s eyes narrow. “I have a pretty bad track record when it comes to losing people. Makes a girl want to put in a little hustle when it comes to keeping tabs on her friends.”

And Emerald would snark at that, or maybe apologize, or something, only—

Nora thinks they’re friends?

“Well, take a seat, I guess,” she mumbles, scooching to the side as though she needs to make room on the massive, empty roof.

Nora walks over and joins Emerald on the asphalt, letting her legs dangle over the edge. Seemingly unsure of where to start, she stares at her hands. Emerald stares too, but her eyes can’t help but wander—tracing the way scars, silvery in the moonlight, spiderweb up Nora’s bare wrists and forearms to fetter her shoulders, clavicle, neck. Like cracks in a pane of glass, right before it shatters.

(Only that’s not it at all, is it? It’s not a sign of weakness, but a warning of strength. I care this much, her scars announce to the word. You wanna try me?

Hazel’s arms always looked like that.)

Emerald doesn’t want to be the one to break the silence, sure that whatever she’d say would be incredibly stupid.

Luckily, Nora has no such qualms, and opens with: “I really admire you, you know?”

Emerald stares, jaw slack, certain she’s heard wrong. “I—what?” She’d say something defensive, like yeah right or you don’t have to make fun of me, only Nora’s eyes are so wide and so guileless they don’t leave any room for argument.

“I mean it,” Nora adds. “I know we don’t know all that much about each other, but… here’s what I do know: I can’t remember a time I saw you without Mercury right behind. Just like me’n Ren. And the way you fought for Cinder…” Nora smiles a sad, private little smile. “You don’t fight like that unless it’s personal; unless someone means something to you. Just like me’n Ren. And now you’re here. All on your own. And you didn’t have to be. That’s—don’t you think that’s crazy brave? I sure do.”

Of course she fucking doesn’t. Crazy brave would have been walking away the first, tenth, hundredth time she had a flash of panic about what she was doing. Or, better yet, doing something about it. Crazy brave is taking thirty thousand volts to get to your friends; it’s flooding your veins with pure crystalline power and saying Go, I’m doing what Gretchen would have done, it’s—

She closes that door.

“It’s not like I really had a choice,” she sighs, dodging the question.

“Oh, you know that’s not true,” Nora scoffs dismissively, tilting sideways to nudge Emerald with her shoulder.

And Emerald jolts, because—look, it’s not like no one touches her. They have to manhandle each other all the time in battle, and… and Oscar gives her high fives sometimes, which makes her embarrassingly pleased. But what Nora’s offering now, that kind of buddy-buddy casual contact…

… it’s been a while, is all.

“So, why did you want to talk to me?” Emerald asks, overwhelmed and suddenly desperate to find a way to get this conversation over with. She feels like she’s sprinted five miles; like she’s had the crap kicked out of her and she has to go somewhere to lick her wounds. Too much, too fast.

Nora laughs—a chuffing, cynical noise that doesn’t sound at all like her. “Looking for pointers? See, I’m trying this thing where I do things on my own, but I just—I suck at it. Like today; you saw. Even when I’m not with Ren, all I do is… is act exactly the same way I do when I’m with Ren. Like I literally don’t know how to exist without him, whether he’s actually there or not. And I know that’s not fair to anyone; I didn’t mean to treat you like—” She shakes her head, biting her lip. “You’re not just some stand-in. It’s not you at all. I’m just—broken, or something. One trick pony.”

“No, hey—”

“But you figured it out,” she barrels on, which is good, because Emerald doesn’t actually have a clue what she would have said there. “You don’t have anyone and somehow you’re just, like—good to go!” Nora says it cheerily, like it’s a compliment, but has the grace to balk a little when she hears how it sounds. “…sorry. That’s—sorry.”

Emerald shrugs, drawing her knees to her chest and resting her chin there. She feels like an idiot; building it up for weeks like spending time with Nora would solve all her problems when, surprise surprise, Nora’s just as fucked up as she is.

“Hate to disappoint you, but I don’t have any hot tips,” she mutters into the crooks of her elbows. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. Like—you want to know the really sad part? I was just following your lead.”

“My…?” Nora can’t even finish repeating it, which: Emerald can’t blame her. It’s so dumb. “Huh?”

“Come on. You know.”

“I don’t,” Nora says, voice thick with exhaustion. Like she’s sick of herself. “Ask anyone—I’m not the brains of the operation.”

Hearing Nora talk about herself that way makes Emerald’s chest feel tight; like her ribs have locked in place so her lungs can’t expand. She doesn’t know how to explain it; not without sounding like a starry-eyed fangirl or a moron with a crush and that’s not what this—it’s only that—

She chooses to start a different way.

“You wanna know why I switched sides? Like, really why?”

Nora softens, and reaches out to touch the back of Emerald’s left hand, where it dangles over her knee. “Sure,” she says, but Emerald barely hears it; it’s taking all of her concentration not to clench her fist or pull away in response.

“I overheard Oscar—or, Ozpin, I guess, I don’t know—talking to Hazel about Salem, about her goals. And… listen. No one joins under Salem because they’re trying to kill the world, okay? I mean, no one but Tyrian, anyway. We were all just trying to… find ways to get by. And when Cinder found me, she—” Emerald swallows, hard. This cuts too deep, too close. It’s not something she can just say. “I wasn’t trying to be some big villain, or something. I was just—looking out for the people who were looking out for me. And why wouldn’t I? No one else ever seemed to think I was worth it.”

“Of course you are,” Nora cuts in, quiet but vehement. “Everyone is.”

“See, the worst part is that you mean that when you say it,” Emerald grumbles, scrubbing at her face until smears of color kaleidoscope behind her closed eyes. “I figured people like you didn’t exist, and then Cinder and Merc were glad to prove me right, and—I let them. You know? And maybe if I’d just held out a little longer…”

“You’re not the only one here who’s ashamed of her past. Harriet tried to blow up Mantle, like, a month ago.”

“That’s not—forget that. I’m talking about you. Nora.” It’s the first time she’s ever said her name like that—addressing her, in conversation. It feels… astonishingly intimate, for so small a thing. Emerald powers past it. “Every day, I see you do something ridiculous, like double back on a patrol because you forgot you promised some kid a candy bar, or something, and that—matters. To me. It’s so stupid, but it’s not, because… argh! I want—it’s—” She tries to get her mouth to form the words, that’s the kind of person I want to be, but they stop in her throat.

Still, Nora seems to get the message. Her eyes seem suspiciously shiny for a moment—but when she blinks, it’s gone. “I… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Emerald grumbles. Saying it like she means it: seriously. Don’t mention it.

“I understand what you mean, though. For years, the only person who looked out for me was Ren. And if he’d said…” Nora trails off, then, cocking her head to the side as she works through something. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing, just. I remembered something. I was about to say that if Ren told me the only way for us to get by was a life of crime, or something, I would’ve taken his word for it, but—the opposite happened. We decided to enroll at Beacon. And that wasn’t his idea; it was mine. I always wanted to be a Huntress. To… to be the one strong enough to help people, instead of always needing the help. He wasn’t sure if we would make it, but I was. We were together, right? How could we lose?” She chuckles, a little, shaking her head at herself. “Get a load of that. He followed me.”

They smile at each other, then. Like they’ve figured out something profound. Maybe Nora has; Emerald hopes so.

“I’m glad you’re here, Emerald,” Nora says, and—there it is again. The frisson of electricity that comes with being referred to by name.

Of course, then Emerald ruins it by blurting out:

“Of course you are, all your other friends are dead.”

Which—“Fuck!” she sputters, because she didn’t mean to say that. What is wrong with her? “Sorry! Sorry.”

Nora only grins at her, feral and incisive. “Yeah, well. Yours are evil, so. Pick your poison. At least I’m proud of mine.”

Touché.

“Still glad I’m here?” Emerald jeers, because her first instinct is still to press on the bruise to see how much it hurts.

Nora laughs, and gets to her feet. “Believe it or not, yes. If putting your foot in your mouth was all it took to get booted from Hero Club, I’d have been kicked out a long time ago.” She reaches down to offer Emerald a hand; Emerald takes it, letting Nora pull her to standing. “Now go and get some rest, huh? None of us can ever sleep when you’re up here thinking so loud.”

“That an order?”

“Advice. Friends give it, from time to time.”

And—yeah. Maybe they do. 

[tainted-wine]

Sooooooo, I wanted to your know take on Hawks taking pictures during any kind of spicy encounter? I've read it in Yandere settings but why not just a dirty boyfriend who loves the shy faces his innocent f s/o makes🥴😈🥴😈

(Oh look, another thirstpost that evolved into a ficlet. This accidentally strayed from your idea a bit, I hope you don’t mind! I just love it when shy readers enjoy having filthy stuff done to them alright? Let’s pretend this is the same one that licked his ass)

Ha I love this! And I want to take it up a notch and say that s/o is also the type that’s too shy to make eye contact during most of the sex. His camera is capturing your sweaty face as he fingers you, snapping a pic every time your lips part to make that sexy gasp when his thumb presses against your clit.

“Come on, baby. Don’t you wanna smile for the camera?”

You never cooperate, which he doesn’t mind at all. The more embarrassed, the cuter. It’s easy to take advantage of the fact that you always keep your eyes closed. He can surprise you with moves that you don’t see coming, allowing the phone that’s floating on his feathers to catch your shocked reaction.

It’s a mix of Hawks praising you and also being a naughty bastard. You’re just the most precious thing he’s ever seen and he wants to be able to look at that beautiful O-face whenever he can. Don’t worry about him ever sharing the pics; no way in hell is he ever gonna let others see you like this.

One sleepless night, when you’re finishing a text chat with your devious boyfriend and wishing him a good night, he sends you an unexpected message.

Hawks: These might help you sleep. You never take the time to enjoy the view when we fuck. So I did you some favors ;)

All of a sudden, several videos are being loaded onto your phone and holy fucking shit.

Hawks has been doing more than snapping photos. He’s been recording you in the heat of the moment as well. There are several clips and they all nearly give you a heart attack.

One is shown from his perspective, his sharp thrusts making you rock into the mattress, small whimpers escaping your mouth. Hearing yourself like that is making your face so damn hot, and it gets even hotter when the angle pans down to show his dick sliding in and out of your pussy.

This was not going to help you sleep. Instead you feel an all too familiar throb down below.

The next video seems to be taken from the same moment, but this time it’s from the bottom, and you’re given the amazing view of Hawks right over you. His face is flushed with an open-mouthed grin that didn’t falter from the moans slipping past his lips. It’s only when he cums that he finally loses it, those golden irises rolling back before his eyes close, and his mouth hangs open as he releases loud choked whines.

He looks fucking amazing. How have you deprived yourself of this for so long? 

Another clip loads. It’s from the night when Hawks convinced you to have your mouth fucked. He really filmed that?! The phone seems to be floating beside your face, giving you a nice view of his cock sliding past your lips. Your eyes are closed as they always are, flinching when he nearly hits the back of your throat.

The throbbing has gotten impossible to ignore. A hand reaches down to your damp cunt, a part of you feeling mortified at how aroused you are from watching yourself like this.

Your fingers pump in and out at the same speed as Hawks’s dick in the video. It was the filthiest thing you’ve ever witnessed, watching him stretch your cheeks from inside, listening to your own wet gurgles that get even sloppier by the second, your hands tightly gripping his ass while he humps your face.

You always had trouble looking at something as simple as his face during the actual act, so why couldn’t you look away now even if you tried?

With a few more rather violent thrusts (but you still remember how each one only turned you on more), he cums with a damn snarl. The very sound of your hungry gulps as his cream flows down your throat nearly brings you to the edge. Just a little more, a few more rubs to your clit should do it...

But then the fourth and final video plays right after the previous one, and just when you thought things couldn’t get any more embarrassing and exhilarating, you see Hawks’s head happily nestled between your legs. You can’t believe just how much your boyfriend has gotten away with simply because you refused to keep your eyes open during sex.

Well now, for the first time, you were making eye contact with him. He was looking intently at the camera as he ate you out, predatory eyes piercing right through the screen and into you.

You slow down your fingers; you want this to last just a little longer. You want to cum to the thought of his tongue.

You can hear your other self moan behind the camera, thighs twitching on his shoulders. His head bobs gently as he licks and sucks at you, occasionally closing his eyes and moaning, as if your taste alone was orgasmic. Your fingers keep on rubbing, slowing down whenever you feel like you’re right at the peak.

Hawks suddenly takes your thighs and pushes them toward your chest, your ass now slightly lifted off the bed.The camera is moving closer, closer to Hawks’s face buried in your pussy and oh god...with this new position, you get a very close and personal view of his mouth working at your cunt.

You can hear the wetness of his tongue when it moves to part your glistening folds. Your juices stick to his mouth in thin strands, such detail making your escalating pleasure impossible to hold back any longer.

You couldn’t look away. Your own moans blended with the ones in the video as he kissed your pussy deeply, the vulgar sounds even louder than before. His face was becoming drenched with your slick. All it took was another sharp glance at the camera before closing his lips around your clit to finally make you burst.

You wanted to keep watching through your crushing orgasm, but the white hot pleasure forces your eyes shut. The sound of you cumming as well in the video makes it all the more intense, Hawks growling as he tries to hold you down and drink up your steady flow.

The video ends, and you want to both curse and thank him for recording these without you knowing. You noticed that there was another text sent to you just a few minutes after the clips.

Hawks: You’re already getting off to this, aren’t you? Don’t worry, shy bird. I’ll make sure to send you more in the future~

[little-murmaider]

Oooo Magnus or Melmord?

I'll do both! Magnus: Sexuality Headcanon: Bi Gender Headcanon: Cis male but I've seen a lot of trans Magnus stuff I've really enjoyed. A ship I have with said character: Magcharles got its hooks in me, man. I love Magnate as terrible exes and I've warmed up to Magpickles a lot! I also like Skwismag but it's Sad, I'll probably never make Content for this ship cause all my ideas are just Way Too Sad :') A BROTP I have with said character: I love the idea of him and Murderface palling around in preklok days. Murderface looking up to him in a big bro/weird uncle kind of way that Magnus really hates and fully rejects (but accepts the attention anyway). A NOTP I have with said character: Hammertooth I'm sorry :( A random headcanon: I'm on record for my "Magnus is the worst person at your local DSA meeting" hc, like this man has NOT done the reading but you KNOW he has an Opinion on it, but another hc is he's a vegetarian but in the worst, most unhealthy way. Like he doesn't eat meat but he'll eat a gas station brand of hot chips and whole can of raw chickpeas and call it a meal. His insides are nothing but black bean gunk and loose change. General Opinion over said character: I used to be pretty indifferent to him but fandom won me over! But as much as I love the beautiful art and writing that portrays him as a tragic misunderstood figure rife with pathos I mainly enjoy him as the funny, kinda pathetic Human Villain in a Muppet Movie way. Melmord: Sexuality Headcanon: He's never, like, put a label on it man he's just Vibing (but if you pressed him he's probably some flavor of bi) Gender Headcanon: He's got a lot of murky gender feelings he isn't ready to process! He'll get there eventually. A ship I have with said character: Melm/Amber :') I am famously* not a Seth fan so I just want them to run away together. MagMelm is also very sweet and I very much enjoy SkwisMelm in a one-sided 8th grade celebrity crush on Melm's party. Also lately very into @frienderbender's Melmord/Rikki Kixx/ Nikki trifecta. *I may have said I Don't Care For Seth like twice A BROTP I have with said character: Everybody, really! Beloved long-running sitcom Everybody Loves Melmord. A NOTP I have with said character: I don't think I have one! A random headcanon: Pretty sure every Melm hc I have I stole from someone else BUT love the idea that he's had a billion jobs. Pool cleaner. Black jack dealer. Guy who works at a scammy kiosk in the mall. Also not necessarily a hc but I associate Bob Seger's Still the Same with him. General Opinion over said character: He's good! I like him! Hope I figure out how to write him someday :')

[goodbysunball]

Bring it on home

Comparatively easy listening from the set of records showcased this time around, but there's a world of grief settin' your jaw to grind. You deserve a neck massage and a cocktail; lean into these after you put your misery rectangle aside for a spell.

Astute Palate, s/t (Petty Bunco)

Emily Robb, David Nance, Daniel Provenzano, and Richie Charles got together and hammered out this LP during "48 sleepless hours" in Philadelphia. It's definitely a fairly rough documentation, but if you know the players, that's generally what you'd be gettin' into with 'em anyway. Gotta admit that I'm not a huge fan of what I've heard by David Nance - respect his hustle, though - and the same goes for the tracks he leads here; in particular, the studied classic rock caterwaul employed on "Stall Out" basically rolls my eyes for me. I am, however, fond of David Nance the Guitarist and his heroics on "Stall Out," and "A Little Proof" definitely has me more curious about his recent solo work I've skipped. These are pithy grievances, though: the album rules, as a whole, but it's just hard to stomach some of Nance's lyrics when they're side-by-side with bonafide jammers like "Bring It On Home" and "Treadin' Schuylkill." "Bring It On Home," in particular, with its Velvets-inspired chug and Robb's bleary vocals coolly beckoning you to do as the title says, heats to a boil with the blustery, fried guitar interplay. For me it wipes the floor with anything else on the album, and pretty much anything else I'll hear this year, so let's put all my petty complaints aside and declare this the Summer of Astute Palate, OK? Looks like the secret's out - the LP's sold out from the source, but can be found hiding in various distros and shops. Hunt it down, crack a tallboy, and embrace the sweltering heat of our melting planet with Astute Palate.

Maraudeur, Puissance 4 (self-released)

New and best LP yet from Leipzig's Maraudeur, self-released with some of the best packaging/artwork I've seen in a minute. My memory's usually a bit faulty, but I recall the band being a three-piece on their last, still very good LP from Bruit Direct Disques. I'm inclined to think that the group's ranks have swelled to five anyway, since the sound here is a bit more bright and full, lots of different moving parts zipping and moving around, giving the crisp recording some effervescence. Compared to older songs like "Computer Dreams," Maraudeur sounds sharper, capable of backing up any threats rather than coming across as deflated and listless. Even the slower songs on Puissance 4, such as "Slow Dress," thrive on tension, guitar strings set to snap amidst the robotic/hypnotic vocals. The band seems to have located a sweet spot between the simmering minimalism of Household and the technologically damaged vision of Chrome, and "TWYWYS" basically sounds like a collaboration between the two groups. Guitars are used as window dressing, favoring instead synths and showcasing the chops of the rhythm section. "Face/Figure" and my favorite track "C'est Caché" are the best examples of Maraudeur's rhythmic foundation, but nearly every track causes inadvertent head bobbing. While accessible and familiar on the surface, Maraudeur's dry humor, the carefully camouflaged layers of sound, and whatever is going on in "I Am Here" keep boilerplate post-punk comparisons at bay. Puissance 4 is a refreshing, addictive brew from the not-too distant future, and probably a blast to experience live.

Astrid Øster Mortensen, Gro Mig En Blomst (Förlag För Fri Musik)

New Gothenburg talent alert! Mortensen is apparently a newcomer to the scene, and her debut LP fits in nicely amongst the Förlag För Fri Musik discography. Gro Mig En Blomst features lonely and debased late-night solo explorations with guitar, piano and what sounds like an accordion, accented by electronic manipulations and the found sound that accompanies most FFFM records. It's dreary and stark, and can quickly bring the mood down when it's on. For me the most obvious reference point is Grouper's Ruins, in that both are recordings so intimate that it feels like an interruption to move while it's on. But I also get bits of Picastro's Whore Luck ("Hvor Kommer Mørket Fra?" sounds like it was plucked directly from that album), and there are similarities to Chloe Alison Escott's solo work, on the title track and "Piano i" and "Piano ii." Gro Mig En Blomst is a far cry from more traditional singer-songwriter music, dabbling in Stars of the Lid-like drone on "Brud ii" and jumping into the "Is there a record on or...?" genre on "Solen Er Et Lille Hus" and "Brud i." I can't say I go out looking for records this fragile and surface-level bleak anymore, but Mortensen's work is more often beautiful and calming than hopelessly gray. Another keeper from FFFM, sure to be one of the most sought-after records from the label, and for good reason.

Nightshift, Zöe (Trouble In Mind)

Travel back in time with me, if you will, to a time when "indie rock" was a genre label that had some meaning. After getting rid of the bad taste in my mouth and shaking off the embarrassment at who I was when I largely listened to stuff that'd broadly fall under that label, I'll allow that Nightshift is making a strong argument for some of the music released during the comparative naiveté of the late '00s/early '10s. Across Zöe, you get shades of Broadcast, Lower Dens' Twin-Hand Movement, the UV Race ("Spray Paint the Bridge"), Belle & Sebastian and A Sunny Day In Glasgow ("Power Cut" and "Romantic Mud"). The trick to Zöe is that it folds all these reference points in neatly and places it on a sturdy percussive base. I won't argue that every song here is memorable, but they're all enjoyable, and the songs that hit - "Outta Space," the title track, "Infinity Winner" - send chills down my spine every time. Guitars are plucked and scraped for leading beats, accentuating shuffling drums and giving the bass the spotlight. The vocals are dreamy and lyrics direct, and for the duration of Zöe you're relieved of the pessimistic present and allowed to rigidly dance to Nightshift's hesitant groove. They've charmed their way through my cynicism, and Zöe's been on heavy rotation despite my reluctance. Take it for a spin, and fall under Nightshift's spell.

Hugo Randulv, Radio Arktis: Samlade Ljud Från Den Norra Polcirkeln (Förlag För Fri Musik)

First solo LP from Hugo Randulv, an active presence in the Gothenburg scene with his involvement in Enhet För Fri Musik, Skiftande Enheter and Amateur Hour, among others. Though typically a guitarist, on Radio Arktis, he drops the guitar and instead fills both sides with glacial synths and dusty samples. The label's original write-up for this record called it "grand ambient," though to me it sounds and feels much more personal than something that would soundtrack the Olympics. His use of samples, most notably on "Radio Reykjavik," sounds intimately tied with some fleeting memory, the music serving to enhance or exorcise the feeling tied to it all. It reminds me most of the Fun Years' "God Was Like, No" in that both records used the tools common to ambient/drone music but applied a much more personal touch, that certain nameless attribute that keeps drawing a listener back in. Can't put my finger on it, but both records just sound like they had to be made, rather than serving as a genre exercise or one-off exploration. I don't know that Radio Arktis is going to change anyone's life, but it could, and I've been hypnotized by its wordless, sparkling gray tones for weeks. Even though the "solo musician embraces synths" thing is usually pretty tired and pointless, Hugo Randulv's contribution shows why it's an alluring proposition at all.

Sunhiilow, Beyond the Cycle (Ikuisuus)

More solo synth, this time coming from Valerie Magisson and her Moog Mother-32. Magisson's Sunhiilow project veers into new age/ambient with its bite-sized kosmische explorations. There's something about the combination of the short length of these tracks and the sense of movement present within each that allows Beyond the Cycle to transcend the lifeless drivel that's usually tagged "new age" and "synth." It seems intentional that Magisson was trying to capture the mood of each track title in its corresponding music, and she is largely successful, though its unclear if the title provided direction or was applied afterward. The somewhat jarring introduction of "Wilderness Bloom" and the stoned growth of "Circle Motion" are my top picks, but the album works best as a whole and played very loudly, the overall effect immersing the listener into heady zones traversed by the Nightcrawlers. Leave it to Ikuisuus to release an "ethereal ambient music" record that satisfies, and sounds and looks great to boot. Sunhiilow's a lot more tame than most of what Ikuisuus releases, but it's an accessible, recommended starting point to one of the best active labels. HOWDY.

[bravest-notts]

(suicidal thoughts mention tw but don't worry, it's in the past and ok now) re: your tags on the mm reblog about having immense irl grief- i completely agree with you. obvi everyone experiences things differently and a stubbed toe still hurts when there's starving kids in africa, etc, but i've had irl grief that plunged me into depression for years and led to two near-suicides. and then i see people justifying doing irrational, ridiculous shit or attacking the cast or attacking the fandom (1/2)

with the justification of “it’s all bc i’m grieving for mm, grief is irrational and makes you do things, this is what grief is like!” and a) i did some awful, unhealthy shit when i was in that intense grieving period and it was not & should not have been a get-out-of-jail-free-card and b) i don’t know how to say this w/o sounding like a bitch but it’s not the same thing? he exists just as much now as he did then, still fictional but in fanfic instead of canon. he’s not gone like an irl person is

(grief anon cont because apparently i’m not done with this rant) like obviously i was going through something awful & it was difficult to function like a human being but there was also a point where i had to look at myself and go “ok, this isn’t healthy, i need to figure out a way through this or else i’m gonna be very unhappy & keep treating myself/others worse than they deserve” and i think that part of grieving is important too. not forgetting mm but maybe finding healthier coping mechanisms?

—

boy we’ve apparently had extremely similar life circumstances because reading this was akin to someone quoting the past eight years back at me. 

*solidarity hug*

putting this under the cut for grief talk, suicide mention, and other Grim Stuff.

for about four years after my mom died, i was a massive mess to the point of existing at the breaking point for nearly the entire time. three suicide attempts, two hospitalizations, and looking back i am amazed that i actually survived the bouts of starvation and lack of care i put myself through when i was in full breakdown mode. it was… really, really bad. dangerously bad. it was also a massive example of how not to cope with grief. 

obviously That Group of mm people are - i hope - not at the depths we’ve been to but yeah, unhealthy handling of loss can manifest in different ways and obsession is absolutely one of them. especially when the dead wasn’t a family member or a friend or someone close to you – strangers, celebrities, they get obsessed over in death. 

and god yeah like. i’ve said this so many times i feel like a broken record but people really, really need to examine how they interact with both media and the fandom because yes, a fictional character’s death can and should cause emotions. it absolutely can be tragic and bittersweet and all those things. but… like, look at vax. no one - at least no one i’ve seen - is inserting him into, say, the search for grog/bob and discussing how vm’s choices in those games are due 100% to his attitude in life. vax’s death is engaged with in a more healthy way, treated as the tragic and sad and still incredible end to a beloved character that molly’s also should be. 

they’re also not dead. because they never existed in the first place. fictional characters can have large and meaningful impacts on people’s lives and hearts, but in the end… they were never truly real. i would never wish the life-consuming scale of loss i’ve experienced on anyone, ever. i lost half a decade to guilt and grief and absolutely consuming depression, i’ve been in so much emotional agony that i would pray that i’d die in my sleep so that i wouldn’t wake up feeling it in the morning, i cried so hard i threw up every day for weeks. a fictional character’s death… there’s no way to say this without sounding like an insensitive twat, but they’re nowhere near comparable. and if they are, if someone out there is experiencing intense and chronic grief like that over a fake person… seriously go get help, because no one deserves to live in that state.

also!! i’m proud of you for clawing your way out of that deep grief state! i know intimately how incredibly difficult that is and i’m glad that it’s in the past now.

[vickiabelson]

Today *** SPECIAL TIME 1 PM PT *** for a SPECIAL PERSON, Marcus Eaton, all the way from Italy.

When David Crosby describes you as, "one of the best young singer-songwriters in America - maybe even the world, brilliant musically, brilliant lyrically, and he just plays guitar like God on a good day,” invites you to tour, record, and co-write with him, and plays on your album… well, it doesn’t get much better than that. Add to that composing the soundtrack of David Crosby: Remember My Name, and, opening for Bob Dylan, that stuff doesn’t suck neither. Marcus has opened for Dave Matthews, Dr. John, Stone Temple Pilots, and Seal to name some, and has his own, Versions of The Truth (https://www.marcuseaton.com/music), which Crosby joined him on for some, Invisible Lines, and has a new album tentatively titled 'What Is Real' set for release this year.

Marcus went viral on TikTok with his rendition of The Last of the Mohicans with a pickaso guitar bow. 

I call him "Football." If I had to guess his occupation, well… I've not seen too many singer/songwriters who look quite like this, nor have I heard many who sound like this. Marcus is as easy on the ears, mind, heart & soul as he is on the eyes.

SCORE!

Marcus Eaton Live on Game Changers With Vicki Abelson

Wednesday, 9/21/22, ***1 pm PT, 4 pm ET***

Streaming Live on my Facebook

Daily by Toni Vincent & @peter_and_paul_ Cartoons

[a-cat-who-likes-stars]

Dating and priorities. 1500, 18 Mar 2021

"Priorities" has been such a key word these days, because as much as I had been experimenting with a specific type of dating, I'm glad that I'm able to clarify to myself the good things among any else. This time I'll record what happened with my 1st few trials with said certain type of dating. Try to guess what kind of dating I went for, though they all took place online.

In retrospect, the first profile I made was the best. I could rejoice ironically how much of a regret I had after deleting it, but I'm not someone who goes with guilt and remorse. I always move on, though this time it felt more emotional, and I felt I had to carry an extra sack from where I'm walking away from, like this was a souvenir from the experience I went through.

My first profile picture was really elegant with a tinge of sultriness, but just a teeny tiny tinge of that. The background was a pale pink with a light tiffany green accessory cape, a few dark wooden-like ornaments on a sort of mantel. At least that was the impression of the profile picture, because truly it was just my bookshelf and my bedroom wall and a random piece of sheet I threw over to cover my sort of library collection.

I was wearing my bob with my bangs pinned up so I looked clean, tidy, well kept, classy, simple, no-nonsense. My make-up was a simple blush pink lipstick, some mascara, some compact powder to cover my undereye circles, brow penciled. The compact wasn't really covering the deeper shade of my undereye fully, combined with daylight it seemed too transparent, but that warrants my no-need to do any eyeshadow.

In the profile picture I'm in a half smile, but really it's just a matter of angle because I don't have to smile at all, I just seem like I'm smiling politely. My eyes looked downwards at the camera lens. I looked really classy.

Anyways the description and the photo was a boom because I received messages as soon as I put them online and they got approved.

There's this guy who offered a pay per meet but they gave off an off vibe so I deleted the message.

Over those kinds of inboxes the 1st guy that caught my eye did exactly this: he wanted to meet over coffee and offered a monthly allowance of 3000. That caught my eye because he meant business. I later caught on with him by texting outside of the website only to come to the conclusion I wasn't able to meet him because I won't be around until the middle of April. He told me to let him know when I'm back in the city.

Maybe he was the 1st person I reached out the furthest, I was interested and sent a message of a song recommendation from spotify to him but he didn't reply. It felt like dangling on a cliff. 1 week later I got another message from an overseas number offering a job. I knew the only way was through this person because I only used this new number of mine to communicate with him.

That gave a suspicious feeling, because this proved he might give any info of mine to anyone and the key thing was Without My Permission, I don't care if he did it out of what kind of intention. It was wrong and crossed my line, and as much as the offer of 3000 monthly seemed attractive to me (a 1st timer) I decided to delete their contact on my phone.

I had another place where I kept account of our chat details so if I ever (but highly unlikely) want to reconnect to this person whom I had researched online and found out he is a carpet businessman who looks I have seen via photographs of him, I decided it was done.

My principles.

The next person I dealt with just recently. He was such a friendly person who seemed genuinely into the game. And by game, I'm sure with his experience, he's a player. He's married but still looking, and from what we talked about on phone (he was the 1st to call me and the 1st guy whose voice I had heard since I started dating like this) he had a partner once for 2 years, she was a student but she ended her studies and things moved on but they kept being friends, this guy is someone who really manages his time with finesse, I must admit. He is a professional engineer, he says, and in his messenger account he put a name that I could easily research online and find a construction company director position linked to it. From there he is said to be a graduate from the University of Melbourne a long time ago. From there it tells me about how old he is now. His children (since he said he is married) if any, I figure could probably be older than I am.

That aside, he seemed genuinely interested to have a long term relationship. He seemed chemistry. He is very friendly and I could totally be friendly too, but I was guarded and cold compared to my usual self, especially when I was on that 1 phone call with him. He said he was driving, and he liked to hear about people's voices when he drives back home from dinner with his friends.

The next day I was greeted with a picture of a rose from him and a wish. The day after it was a quote and another wish for productivity as I mentioned my occupation too. This guy really knows how to converse. I admire his manners and conduct. In fact, he matches 89% of my description of "what I'm looking for". Save the married part.

He asked me if I'm allergic to married men. No, I'm not. I see them as humans all the same. I actually see him as a patient. It has only been 1 year and 6 months since I've enrolled in my professional academic training, and for that part of mindset, I was intrigued by myself to be honest.

Like I said, I was interested also because I was curious why he would had such kinds of affair after marrying a woman. I researched online for a consecutive 3 days regarding this matter. The reasons were humane enough.

I was reckless and threw this connection away. Because I was trying, too hard. I had a favourite guru on this sort of dating and she was successful. In her videos she said it was never too soon and about how we keep our standards up high so that people we date are on par and we don't waste our time. Be focused on the aim. There's nothing wrong with that. Anyone who wants something has to set their intention on it.

I wanted a book so I texted him about it and he read my message and never ever replied. I was filled with guilt I removed my simcard so that I never EVER reconnect with this person however the chemistry or friendliness existed for the first 2 days.

I recall a tarot reading because I'm into these stuffs. The reading said this person "will prepare you for your true connection". I couldn't agree more. I felt on one hand I disrespected him, on the other hand he taught me to be respectful of time and mannerisms. It was a sort of transaction with no money involved. I'm grateful I met this person, he really reminded me of that.

He also showed me how high my standards should be.

The day after I watched my guru online and she reminded to keep it as a date, not some job.

Of course. I just went off track for a time. See how it affected everything. Impressions are so important.

I started to date because I wanted to spend my time on guys who can afford and are good in management, well in conduct, respectable. I was grateful I met them. It felt rare. I wouldn't have met these people who are multimillionaires, entrepreneurs, CEOs, Directors, if I only mingled with peers. Plus my peers suck.

What an experience. I'm thankful for these gurus. Eventhough I will most probably NEVER meet them ever again. But I will remember their names, they have touched me without knowing (it's not that sentimental, just stating) and if I ever come across them in real life, I will send a wish for their general well-being. Like putting it out to the universe and the universe will take care of everything else.

I took out my profile and deactivated it. Nothing remains except if you're a hacker you may retrieve the deleted info. It was like a summer fling to me. Although everything IS like a fling to me. I take things less serious than I seem to be, and as much as I'm warm around, my heart isn't as so.

All in all, it was my 1st experience with sugar dating. Yep. Meeting successful men who keep their private life so private people assume they're gay? Interesting as heck.

I'd love to redo this again in the future after I level up. Ah, such are the beginnings of and afterthoughts for my dating choices. Imma try to write a book in the end as a memoir. Cheers!

[dylanradio]

Now Playing on DylanRadio.com: New Danville Girl by Bob Dylan from Genuine Bootleg Series Volume 1

I wish i could remember that movie just a little bit better All i remember about it was that it starred Gregory Peck He was shot down in the back by a hungry kid trying to make a name for himself The townspeople wanted to crush that kid down and string him up by the neck. Well the sheriff beat that boy to a bloody pulp As the dying gunfighter lay in the sun and gasped for his last breath "Turn him loose, let him go, let him say he outdrew me fair and square I want him to feel what it's like to every moment face his death.'' Well i keep seeing this stuff and it just comes a-rolling in And it blows right thru me like a ball and chain You know i can't believe we've lived so long and are still so far apart Your memory keeps callin' after me like a rollin' train. I can still see the day that you came to me on the painted desert In your busted-down Ford and your platform heels I could never figure out why you choose that particular place to meet Ah, but you were right it was perfect as i got in behind the wheel. We drove that car all night until San Antone And we slept near the Alamo, fell out under the stars Way down in Mexico he went out to see a doctor and you never came back I stayed there a while till the whole place it started feelin' like musk. Well, i'm driving this car and the sun is comin' up over the rockies Somethin' about it reminds me of you, like when she sings, "Baby, let the good times roll'' But i'm too over the edge to remember the things we used to talk about or do And she's the one to remind me, she knows this car would go out of control. Danville Girl with your Danville curl, Teeth like pearls shinin' like the moon above Danville Girl take me all around the world Danville Girl you're my honey love. Well we crossed the Panhandle and then we headed out towards Amarillo Rushin' down where Henry Porter used to live, he owned the record line outside of town We could see Ruby in the window, as we came rolling up in a trail of dust She said "Henry's not here, he took off but you all can come in and stay awhile.'' Well she told us times were tough but we never knew how bad off she was You know she would change the subject every time money came up You know her eyes were filled with so much sadness, she was so disillusioned with everything She said "Even the swap meets around here are getting pretty corrupt.'' "How far are you all going?'' Ruby asked us with a sigh. "We're going all the way 'till the wheels fall off and burn Till the sun peels the paint and the seat covers fade and the water moccasin dies'' Ruby just smiled and said "Ah, you know, some babies never learn.'' I keep trying to remember that movie though, and it does keep comin' back But i can't remember what part i played or who i was supposed to be All i can remember about it is it's starring Gregory Peck and he was in it And everything he did in it reminded me of me. Yeah! Danville Girl with your Danville curl Teeth like pearls shinin' like the moon above Danville Girl take me all around the world Danville Girl you're my honey love. Well, they were looking for somebody with a pompadour I was crossing the street when they opened fire I didn't know whether to duck or to run so i ran Sounded to me like i was bein' chased by the midnight choir. Well, you saw my picture in the Corpus Christi Tribune, underneath it said "A man with no alibi'' You went out on a limb to testify and you said i was with you, ah yes you did And i watched you break down in front of the judge and cry It was the best acting i ever saw you do. I've always been the emotional person but this time it was asking too much If there's an original thought out there, Oh, i could use it right now Yeah, i feel pretty good, but you know i could feel a whole lot better, oh yes i could If you were just here by my side to show me how. Well i'm standing in line in the rain to see a movie starring Gregory Peck Oh yes i am, but it's not the one that i had in mind He's got a new one out now, you know it just don't look the same But i'll see him anyway and i stand in line. Danville Girl with your Danville curl Teeth like pearls shinin' like the moon above Danville Girl take me all around the world Danville Girl you're my honey love. You know, it's funny how people just want to believe what's convenient Nothing happens on purpose, it's an accident if it happens at all And everything that's happening to us seems like it's happening without our consent But we're busy talking back and forth to our shadows on an old stone wall. Oh, you got to talk to me now baby, tell me about the man that you used to love And tell me about your dreams, just before the time you passed out, oh, yeah! Tell me about the time that our engine broke down and it was the worst of times Tell me about all the things that i couldn't do nothin' about. There was a movie i seen one time, i think i sat through it twice I don't remember who i was or what part i played All I remember about it was it was starring Gregory Peck But that was a long time ago, and it was made in the shade. Danville girl with your Danville curl Teeth like pearls shinin' like the moon above Danville Girl take me all around the world Danville Girl you're my honey love.

[dylanradio]

Now Playing on DylanRadio.com: New Danville Girl by Bob Dylan from Genuine Bootleg Series Volume 1

I wish i could remember that movie just a little bit better All i remember about it was that it starred Gregory Peck He was shot down in the back by a hungry kid trying to make a name for himself The townspeople wanted to crush that kid down and string him up by the neck. Well the sheriff beat that boy to a bloody pulp As the dying gunfighter lay in the sun and gasped for his last breath "Turn him loose, let him go, let him say he outdrew me fair and square I want him to feel what it's like to every moment face his death.'' Well i keep seeing this stuff and it just comes a-rolling in And it blows right thru me like a ball and chain You know i can't believe we've lived so long and are still so far apart Your memory keeps callin' after me like a rollin' train. I can still see the day that you came to me on the painted desert In your busted-down Ford and your platform heels I could never figure out why you choose that particular place to meet Ah, but you were right it was perfect as i got in behind the wheel. We drove that car all night until San Antone And we slept near the Alamo, fell out under the stars Way down in Mexico he went out to see a doctor and you never came back I stayed there a while till the whole place it started feelin' like musk. Well, i'm driving this car and the sun is comin' up over the rockies Somethin' about it reminds me of you, like when she sings, "Baby, let the good times roll'' But i'm too over the edge to remember the things we used to talk about or do And she's the one to remind me, she knows this car would go out of control. Danville Girl with your Danville curl, Teeth like pearls shinin' like the moon above Danville Girl take me all around the world Danville Girl you're my honey love. Well we crossed the Panhandle and then we headed out towards Amarillo Rushin' down where Henry Porter used to live, he owned the record line outside of town We could see Ruby in the window, as we came rolling up in a trail of dust She said "Henry's not here, he took off but you all can come in and stay awhile.'' Well she told us times were tough but we never knew how bad off she was You know she would change the subject every time money came up You know her eyes were filled with so much sadness, she was so disillusioned with everything She said "Even the swap meets around here are getting pretty corrupt.'' "How far are you all going?'' Ruby asked us with a sigh. "We're going all the way 'till the wheels fall off and burn Till the sun peels the paint and the seat covers fade and the water moccasin dies'' Ruby just smiled and said "Ah, you know, some babies never learn.'' I keep trying to remember that movie though, and it does keep comin' back But i can't remember what part i played or who i was supposed to be All i can remember about it is it's starring Gregory Peck and he was in it And everything he did in it reminded me of me. Yeah! Danville Girl with your Danville curl Teeth like pearls shinin' like the moon above Danville Girl take me all around the world Danville Girl you're my honey love. Well, they were looking for somebody with a pompadour I was crossing the street when they opened fire I didn't know whether to duck or to run so i ran Sounded to me like i was bein' chased by the midnight choir. Well, you saw my picture in the Corpus Christi Tribune, underneath it said "A man with no alibi'' You went out on a limb to testify and you said i was with you, ah yes you did And i watched you break down in front of the judge and cry It was the best acting i ever saw you do. I've always been the emotional person but this time it was asking too much If there's an original thought out there, Oh, i could use it right now Yeah, i feel pretty good, but you know i could feel a whole lot better, oh yes i could If you were just here by my side to show me how. Well i'm standing in line in the rain to see a movie starring Gregory Peck Oh yes i am, but it's not the one that i had in mind He's got a new one out now, you know it just don't look the same But i'll see him anyway and i stand in line. Danville Girl with your Danville curl Teeth like pearls shinin' like the moon above Danville Girl take me all around the world Danville Girl you're my honey love. You know, it's funny how people just want to believe what's convenient Nothing happens on purpose, it's an accident if it happens at all And everything that's happening to us seems like it's happening without our consent But we're busy talking back and forth to our shadows on an old stone wall. Oh, you got to talk to me now baby, tell me about the man that you used to love And tell me about your dreams, just before the time you passed out, oh, yeah! Tell me about the time that our engine broke down and it was the worst of times Tell me about all the things that i couldn't do nothin' about. There was a movie i seen one time, i think i sat through it twice I don't remember who i was or what part i played All I remember about it was it was starring Gregory Peck But that was a long time ago, and it was made in the shade. Danville girl with your Danville curl Teeth like pearls shinin' like the moon above Danville Girl take me all around the world Danville Girl you're my honey love.