#I need one other person on this site to make some fucking noise about the 2007 abc classic ‘greek’ 😤

[gingerwerk]

Finally finished rewatching my silly comfort show that I stopped 5 episodes before the finale because I didn’t want to deal with the emotions of the finale :’) time to be all nostalgic and melancholy I guess

[relaxxattack]

ok yeah lots of memes about how the shitty new UI is literally a direct carbon copy of twitter and we hate it because of that, yea yea

here’s some actual/extra reasons why the UI itself is shitty beyond the fact that it’s stolen from twitter (in just my personal opinion)

it’s claustrophobic as hell. the old UI felt breathable, felt like you could scroll and actually look at your posts, and now there’s enough shit going on on one page that it actually gives me a headache. (i’ve heard other people say this as well, so maybe it’s not just me that’s overstimulated by all the fucking noise on the dash?)

the ‘dash sorting’ (for you / your tags / what you missed) is way too high up the page now and appears crowded against the top where things like the bookmarks bar are on most browsers. not that anything in this new UI isn’t crowded.

i’ve seen it mentioned plenty already, but there’s quite a lot of unnecessary duplication-- as in, the same buttons that exist in the new left navigation panel show up on the right in blog view, which is just completely annoying and unneeded clutter.

the fact that post interaction options are all on the right side of the posts, but dashboard navigation is now all pushed to the far left of display, is extremely annoying. i’m right-handed, so it’s extra annoying for me to have to constantly go all the way over there. maybe that’s easier for left-handed people, but if the case was supporting diversity, why not just put an option in dashboard preferences to switch the side of ALL the controls? because the post interactions are still on the right.

while we’re on the subject-- tumblr’s original design was actually MUCH more intuitive and easy to navigate. the reason for this is that everything you needed to click was in one small area. you scroll up and down the dash, move slightly up to navigate (home/asks/notifications) and slightly down to the side to interact with a post (reblog/reply). extremely simple, easy to use, even ‘lazy + addicting’, which is what all social media studio exes are supposed to want right now. changing the ui to actually be more work and more frustrating to navigate seems completely opposed to what their obvious business strategy should be.

tumblr’s original design was also much more breathable, with the small icons in the corner looking organized and not taking up much space, and lots of room for the posts themselves to be the main attraction.

there’s the fact that copying someone else’s brand entirely actually just puts you in a bigger, wider pool with much more competition, and makes you much more likely to immediately fall short of that and go bankrupt.

tumblr's original purpose was to be geared toward blogs, and these updates, along with the writing on the wall about blog themes being completely phased out soon, is completely against the original purpose. although sometimes website purposes change for the better, so take that as you will.

and finally the obvious point that you can tell from all the memes: this change is almost universally hated by the core tumblr userbase-- aka the site’s loyal consumers for years and years. driving out their main demographic seems like a very obvious, very quick way to lose a lot of fucking money. they also did this “carbon copy of twitter” update literally just a week after sitewide protest about the idea of this site being anything like twitter, so it feels like a massive Fuck You to literally all of the users. tumblr is rapidly approaching their trust thermocline, and show no sign of slowing down.

these are just my opinions about the ui, and i’m only one person. so feel free to add on other design flaws you think people should be aware of or able to mention! i will probably also be submitting this post as feedback to staff, and will be taking their surveys when i can as well.

[littleskeletonprincessss]

Heyyyy yknow what we were just talking about? So, maybe you should write Schlatt getting mad and fucking the shit out of you

-In any context-

I’m totally not just asking this so I can complete all the drafts I have

Heyyyy, i'm going to use what we were talking about as the scenario for this. (For anyone confused, you can go read the post here (you definitely SHOULD go read it because) but tldr, Schlatt would throw a bitch fit trying to put a tent up. (The SHELTER kind, you filthy rats)

also, was definitely listening to ysf audio while doing this which kinda helped. Definitely recommend him if you haven't heard.

Just some HCs:

It definitely would have taken weeks and a couple blowjobs to convince Schlatt to take you camping.

When he finally gave in, the process didn't go smooth AT ALL.

You both somehow forgot to actually make reservations at a camping site, but you reassured him that you didn't need a campsite, you could just drive into the mountains somewhere.

So anyway it starts POURING rain.

And his car is getting dirty driving through all the mud puddles trying to find a place

Side note I think Schlatt is definitely the kind of man who babies his stupid car.

As much as he babies you, if not more

When you finally find a clearing, and the rain stopped, you both got out to set up camp

But come to find out the instructions for your tent were nowhere to be found.

Schlatt being who he is, insisted with every ounce of pride in his body, that he could figure the damn thing out.

He definitely muttered lots of swear words under his breath, along with the whole idea of this stupid trip

You'd been unloading the bed supplies and when you were done you noticed it was getting darker

So you innocently asked Schlatt if he wanted a little bit of help when you noticed that he'd made no progress

"No I don't want you goddamn help. I'm not a fucking idiot."

"Schlatt, come on, it's getting dark, let me help."

"Shut the fuck up. This whole stupid camping trip was your idea in the first place."

You could see Schlatt's eyes darken with anger and frustration and fuck was it hot.

"No."

Was it a good idea to say that right now? Oh absolutely fucking not. Did you care? Absolutely fucking not.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"You heard me."

Schlatt would stand up, throwing the bag of stakes down and walk to the pile of blankets before grabbing a big one off the top.

"I thought I fucking did. Fuck this fucking dumbass tent, I can blow your back out right here, now lay the fuck down."

After Schlatt would spread the blanket out you'd lay down on the slightly damp ground, barely having time to move a rock from under your back before Schlatt was pressing hard kisses against your neck, sucking harsh bruises.

"What, I don't even get a kiss first?"

Schlatts hand would immediately be on your throat.

"You need to shut your goddamn mouth. Make me drive to the middle of bum fuck nowhere with a stupid tent that won't stay up."

Schlatt would break up his sentences with nips to your neck.

His other hand would hold both of your above your head, pinning your wrists.

The nice thing about being in the middle of nowhere was you could be as loud as you needed and Schlatt made it his personal goal sometime to make you break the world record for loudest noise ever made.

He'd waste no time getting both of you naked so he could just fuck you already and sink the tent he never had trouble getting up between your thighs.

And he'd go HARD.

Taking every bit of anger out on you

"Yeah, that's my little bitch. Just a fucking little cumslut for me aren't you doll? That's all your good for apparently, since you can only come up with stupid ideas like camping"

"Open your fucking mouth." he'd say before spitting in it. "That's it, sweetheart, take it."

Man would go for hours he was so pent up, both of you coming multiple times together.

After he'd finally calmed down, when the sun was just coming up, he'd pull his underwear back on before dressing you in the warm pajamas you'd brought

Just some of his sweats and his Wilson hoodie

before wrapping you in a clean blanket and bridal carrying you to the passenger seat of the car

He'd get dressed and pack everything up before sliding in to his sit and leaning over the console to kiss you.

"You okay baby?"

Schlatt is aftercare king, always.

"Mmm" you'd mumble quietly

Starting the car, Schlatt would start driving home.

You'd turn to watch the trees pass by out the window before glancing in the rearview mirror.

"Schlatt I think you forgot the tent."

"Nope."

And he'd drive away without another word leaving a pile of canvas behind you.

Anyway sorry this was shit. <3

[diazsdimples]

Fuck It Friday

Hello and happy very belated FIF, in which I introduce yet another new wip. I made this post a month or so ago, in which I outlined an HC of mine that after the first, Bobby and Athena buy a ranch. That AU has been consuming me every since so I've decided to write it! Welcome to the Bathena Ranch AU, featuring every other member of the 118 and some very wholesome ranchy vibes.

Tagged by @theotherbuckley and @actuallyitsellie

Bobby’s eating breakfast when he sees it. Like every morning for the past two months, Bobby makes himself some eggs on the too-small stovetop, brews some coffee in their tiny coffee machine, and plonks himself down at their two-person table with his laptop. He opens his favourite rural real estate site, not expecting there to be much change from yesterday, and settles in for a morning of meaningless scrolling while getting increasingly frustrated at America’s housing market. This morning, though, there’s a new listing. Perking up, Bobby sits forward in his chair and reads the blurb with interest. It’s in an area they haven’t looked before, out near Kagel Canyon, but claims to still be within an hour’s drive from central Los Angeles. Bobby clicks open Google Maps and plugs in the ranch’s address, then Station 118. It’s 8:30am, so traffic is about as bad as it’ll get, but even then, it’ll still only take him an hour and 10 minutes to get in. It means an early start to the day if he wants to get to work on time, but that’s never bothered him before. Bobby allows the tiniest bit of hope to trickle through his veins as he does one final once over of the listing. Usually he’ll try and get a vibe based off the initial presentation of the listing, before he allows himself to click on it, just in case. Everything about this ranch catches his eye. He clicks in and holds his breath as he begins to scroll through the photos. It’s perfect. The home is just about everything Bobby’s dreamed of. From what he can tell, it’s been made in the typical style for a ranch home, with a long veranda out the front, complete with a swing chair and planter boxes. The kitchen and bedrooms look like they’re out of a western film – and yeah, maybe it’ll require a little bit of touching up, but there’s potential. Shoving the last of his eggs into his mouth, Bobby scrolls back to the beginning and leans back in his chair. “Athena! Come here for a second?” His wife wanders in from the bedroom a moment later, looking sleep-rumpled and her face split in a wide yawn. “Whassamatter?” Bobby pulls out the chair beside him and pats it eagerly. “C’mere. I think I’ve found our dream home.” “Your dream home, more like,” Athena comments, but she takes a seat regardless, resting her head on Bobby’s shoulder. She’s silent for a moment as she scrolls through the pictures, her expression neutral. She quirks an eyebrow at the shot of the backyard – overgrown and full of weeds – and scoffs when she sees the kitchen with it’s frankly offensive pink and green colour scheme, but other than that, it’s hard to get a grasp on what she’s really feeling. Bobby talks her through the amenities, the amount of land the ranch has, their commute time to the city and, most importantly, the fact that it’s within their price range. Athena listens, making noises of affirmation when she needs to and nodding her head. When Bobby’s finally finished, Athena sits back in her chair and crosses her arms, looking contemplative. “Well? What do you think?” Bobby asks. He tries not to seem too eager, but this is the most excited he’s gotten about something since he and Michael busted an illegal surgeon across the road.

np tagging

@dangerpronebuddie @hippolotamus @daffi-990 @bidisasterevankinard @neverevan

@watchyourbuck @spotsandsocks @bibuckbuckgoose @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @bucks-daddy-issues

@bucksbignaturals @wikiangela @loveyouanyway @exhuastedpigeon @kitteneddiediaz

@thekristen999 @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @inell @tommysdaddykink @lonelychicago

@elvensorceress @rainbow-nerdss @underwaterninja13 @steadfastsaturnsrings @bigfootsmom

@monsterrae1 @wildlife4life @actualalligator @cal-daisies-and-briars @perfectlysunny02

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

after - part twenty-four

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

for one of you, it’s the end of the road.

a/n:like….y’all know what’s coming. it hurts me. it hurt to write, and I contemplated doing something else, but this is where we ended up. my askbox is open so we can cry together 🤍

word count: 9.2k

warnings: no new territory here, yes I cried writing it

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

“It looks like a fucked-up moon,” the kid says, and Joel hears your quiet agreement. It’s muffled, his right ear contorting the noise, but when he turns towards you, there’s a touch of fear in your face, and without a second thought, he reaches out his hand. “Is this where they bombed?”

You take it, swallowing hard before telling Ellie, “Yeah, they hit most of the big cities like this, shortly after Outbreak Day. They hoped it would slow the spread, and well, it worked here, but in a lot of other places, they weren’t so lucky.”

“Were you all here,” she presses, staring down into the sinkhole you’re standing in front of, “when it happened?”

Joel slides his eyes to yours, seeing the uncomfortable look on your face. “Tess and I weren’t, Liv was.” He squeezes your hand. “Let’s just get a move on, yeah? Lotsa destruction between here and the State House.”

Joel knows how strong you are. He knows you’re a badass, that you make every single person — soldier, smuggler, it doesn’t matter — think twice before fucking with you. But, you’re human. And while he knows you’ve put on a brave face when you’ve been forced to take paths through the city that lead right past the bomb sites, talking about it is another thing entirely.

(With the exception of the one time you accidentally walked past the bookstore you’d been trapped inside when they first bombed. Joel nearly had to carry you back to the QZ.)

Ellie asks a lot of questions as you walk, mostly about Boston outside the QZ, and you being the only one of them to live there pre-outbreak, field most of them. It’s innocent, mainly, the curiosity evident in the young girl’s tone, and for you, it seems to prove as a good distraction.

Your panic, when the radio had gone off last night, Joel knows it well. It’s the same fear, the same twist of panic Joel has felt every day since Tommy stopped answering. But, Ellie seems to distract you enough, even making you laugh a few times, and in a strange, fucked-up way, Joel’s grateful.

Even Tess falls into step with the two of you, listening in on your answers about the baseball stadium and the toppled building you used to work in, which you point out as you walk. Joel keeps himself on your left, but turns his head towards you, listening too. 

Finally, you come around the corner where once upon a time, you would have had a straight shot to the State House.

“It’s right through there,” you tell Ellie, pointing at the crumbled building that’s filling the road in front of you. “We could see it, standing right here, up until five years ago.”

“They bombed again?” Ellie asks, her voice hitching.

You shake your head. “No, but the buildings can only take so much. A few of them toppled the night of the bombings, some days later. I watched two of them crash into each other right after the QZ wall was built.” You drop your eyes to your boots, and Joel doesn’t miss the way you shake your head slightly. “Anyway. It would take us ten minutes, if this wasn’t in the way.”

“So, what do we…?” Ellie trails off, her brow furrowing.

“Long way or short way?” Joel asks, looking between you and Tess.

Tess sighs. “Well, it’s the long way or the ‘we’re fucking dead’ way.”

“I vote long way,” Ellie says quickly, “just based on that limited information.”

You rub your hand over the back of your neck. “Hotel first, we need to check it from up high.”

Joel nods in agreement. “Let’s go.”

+

You take the lead, turning down one block that leads towards one of the still-standing sky bridges. It loops around the city, takes you back toward the hotel, where you need to be. As you walk, Joel hangs back, pulling up the rear while Tess ends up a few yards ahead of you, leaving you and Ellie in the middle. You shoot Joel a look, touching your hand to your ear, but he just shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

Ellie seems intent to keep a bit more space between you today than she had last night, and you can’t say you blame her. She seems tense, her shoulders bunched around her ears, but she keeps her pace with yours as you walk around the long-abandoned cars that cover the sky bridge.

“Where the fuck are they already?” she asks, her anxiety clear in her tone.

“You’ll know it,” you tell her, swinging the bat up to rest it on your shoulder, “when they’re close. Trust me, you’ll know.”

“I didn’t know last time,” she replies, and the way she says the words makes you pause. You didn’t know either. It came out of fucking nowhere, and everything was different, all in one instant.

“How did you get bit?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you. “If you want to tell me, that is.”

She huffs a little breath before, “You know the old mall in the QZ?”

You can’t hold back your bark of laughter, tilting your head back. “The mall. You mean the mall that’s been sealed off and boarded up almost twenty years now? The one no one’s supposed to go in ever?” You turn to look at her, a nearly conspiratorial grin on your face. “That one?”

The kid almost cracks a smile; you can see it. “Yeah, whatever. I snuck in. I just wanted to see what it was like. Didn’t think there was gonna be anything in there, and then one just came at me outta nowhere. Thought I got away, but…”

She trails off, squinting off into the distance and you stop a second, seeing Joel do the same over your shoulder. “Wait, so it was just you in there? By yourself?”

“Yeah,” she says, almost too quickly, but when her eyes lift to yours, you can tell she’s about done with this conversation.

“How old are you?” you ask.

“Fourteen.”

“Damn,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Y’know, you couldn’t pay me to set foot in that mall. You got some balls, kid.”

The grin is almost imperceptible, but it’s there. “Thanks.”

“C’mon,” Tess calls to you, standing on top of a flipped car. “This one’s stable enough.”

You watch Ellie clamber on top of the car, holding her arms out for balance before she drops down on the other side. Joel moves up beside you, offering his hand. “Y’okay?” he asks as you put your palm in his, using him as leverage to get up onto the car.

“As good as I can be,” you answer, stepping across the car’s rusted axle, dropping down into the spot Ellie had. You watch him climb up and over, almost catching him as he drops down. “How’s the hand?”

“Fine,” he replies, the word almost a grunt. “I just want this over with.”

“I know,” you nod, rubbing your hand over your forehead. “We all do.”

You walk a bit longer before Tess turns back, addressing Ellie. “Nobody’s gonna be coming after you, right? Mom, Dad, boyfriend?”

“I’m an orphan,” Ellie answers, and something in you twinges. “And…no.” The group of you go quiet for a moment, but then Ellie has more to say. “Everyone said the open city was crazy. Like, swarms of Infected running around everywhere.”

You and Joel move a little closer, and Joel actually laughs. “Not exactly like that.”

“People like to tell stories,” you say, the three of you falling into step together, Tess a step ahead. “Trying to discourage idiots like us from sneaking out of the QZ.”

“So there aren’t super-Infected that explode fungus spores on you?” she asks, and for a moment, she sounds so much like a little kid you can’t help laughing again.

“Shit, I hope not,” Tess calls, her tone sarcastic.

“Or ones with split-open heads that see in the dark like bats?”

That has you all quiet. No laughter to be heard. You, Joel, and Tess all share a look. Do you confirm Ellie’s fears, tell her they’re real? Make her more scared than she already is? 

You’re about to say it — Those exist. Clickers. And if you ever see one, run as fast as you goddamned can. — when a loud yell echoes through the city, making you all stop in your tracks.

“What was that?” Ellie asks, and she looks terrified all over again.

You all pause, eyes sweeping in each direction, waiting for something, or someone, to come running at you, or for another yell to echo out. When nothing comes, Joel puts his hand on your shoulder. “Let’s keep movin’.”

+

When your smuggling became more localized in Boston, the hotel became a base camp of sorts. The structure was still mostly intact, safe enough to scout out up high, and it gave you a good vantage point to see the different routes through the city, what was safe, what wasn’t.

Nature’s done its best to take over the lobby, the sunken floor turned into a habitat for ducks and frogs and the odd fish. Not the most convenient, since the stairs upward were across the miniature lake, and something about wet socks made you more squeamish than some Infected. 

Joel pries the sliding doors apart, the group of you enter the lobby, and Ellie’s awe is renewed. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” She looks at you over her shoulder. “You ever stay in a place like this?”

“Stayed here once, actually,” you tell her, sliding the bat across your shoulders, looping your wrists over it. Joel looks at you with a raised brow. “Dean.”

“Who’s Dean?” she asks, looking between you and Joel.

“Just some dead guy,” Joel retorts. “How do you even know what this place is?”

“Have you ever heard of books?” Ellie throws back.

Joel rolls his eyes, starting to descend the steps, and you start to follow.

There’s more panic in Ellie’s voice. “Wait, are we going in there?”

“Yeah,” Tess replies, nodding her chin to the stairs across the pond. “We gotta get to the stairwell on the other side.”

She looks at you, backing away slowly. “Well, I…I don’t know how to swim.”

“Seriously?” Joel grumbles.

“You think we have pools in the QZ?”

“No, smart ass,” he quips, and hops off the lowest step, landing completely in the water with a little splash, showing Ellie that it doesn’t even reach his waist.

“I don’t know how I was supposed to know that.”

You shake your head. “C’mon. I hate this part.” You grit your teeth as soon as your boots hit the water, your socks instantly soaked, jeans clinging to your legs. You walk quickly, catching up to Joel, lily pads and plants floating out of your way as you go.

“This is so gross,” Ellie says, a little bit behind you. “Hey, check it out!” You turn to see her heading for what used to be the front desk, you and Joel pausing to watch her. “Ding, ding! Yes, sir, I would like your finest room please!” Her voice drops. “Yes, ma’am, would you like me to take your luggage? Yes ma’am, right away, ma’am, I’m—”

“You’re a weird kid,” Joel says bluntly, letting out a low oomph when you elbow him in the ribs.

“You’re a weird kid,” Ellie repeats, grabbing hold of one of the luggage carts and pushing it through the water. “Oh fuck!” she shouts as she moves past the end of the desk, and you see a skull flop forwards. She all but leaps backward, landing on the grand piano behind her, the instrument making a watery noise as she hits the keys. “Oh my god.”

Joel moves from your side to wade around the piano, and you see him lift his boot, nudging at the very dead skeleton.

“Sorry,” Ellie says, and takes Joel’s hand when he offers it. He pulls her to her feet, and as soon as she’s upright, wrenches his hand away. His eyes flick to yours as she moves away from him, heading towards where Tess is now standing on the staircase.

“You okay?” you ask as she wades past you.

“Yep,” she replies, both of you stepping up to the stairs, your jeans and boots dripping water as you go. “Fucking fabulous.”

The stairs are hell. Fucking hell. Your joints creak with every step, and you have to reach out and grab the back of Joel’s belt for support at one point. He leads the group of you up, the rifle held high, Ellie and Tess a few steps behind you.

When you finally reach the tenth floor, both you and Tess nearly collapse against the doorframe as Joel steps through, sweeping the hall with the rifle. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” you heave, leaning your weight on the bat for a second, sucking down oxygen.

“C’mon, it wasn’t that bad,” Ellie says, pushing between the two of you and into the hallway.

“You try climbing ten fuckin’ floors with our knees,” Tess tells her, pushing off the door. “See how you feel.”

Tess pushes past Ellie, following Joel down the hallway, and you bring up the rear this time, resting the bat on your shoulder, tightening your grip on the handle. It’s a familiar path towards the terrace you’ve used as your lookout point, but as you turn the corner, you hear Joel curse, and Tess, “Well, when the fuck did that happen?”

The way is blocked by rubble, giant pieces of concrete too big to move cutting the hallway short. There are a few doors on either side, and you and Tess try both, but they’re locked. You move closer to the rubble, inspecting the blockage. You can see daylight on the other side, and it looks mostly flat. “I’ll climb up there, see if there’s a way around, open it from the inside.”

“I’m the smallest,” Ellie says, stepping up beside you. “It would be easier for me to get through.”

“Yeah, and if you die, we get nothing,” Tess tells her, and moves toward the rubble. “Joel, stay with her. Liv, I’ll come with you.”

You look at Joel, who looks obviously annoyed to be left alone with Ellie yet again. “Give us a hand,” you tell him, and he grabs the kid by the handle of her backpack, moving her out of his way, earning an annoyed scoff from Ellie.

He helps Tess up first, then you, your climb up made easier between Tess’s offered hand and Joel’s support from below. “You good?” Joel calls, his voice bouncing off the concrete.

“Just fuckin’ peachy,” you call back as you and Tess start to slide through the opening in the rubble heading toward the daylight. You meet open air again, sucking down a breath that’s not filled with dust. It’s a bit of a mess, all broken rebar and shards of glass and more hunks of concrete. “It’s kind of fucked up here, we might be a minute.”

“Okay,” Joel calls back, but there’s a slight waver in his voice you know is meant just for you.

It used to be a suite, at the end of the hallway, with a balcony that lead out and around to a staircase that brought you up to the terrace. Now most of the wall is gone, letting the open air inside, and the balcony is definitely not stable enough for you to be walking on. While most of the drywall has crumbled away, there’s a semi-clear path to the staircase, now accessible through the wall instead of the balcony.

You kick pieces of glass out of your way, you and Tess moving towards the hole in the wall, which is partially blocked by the broken furniture still in the suite.

“So, are you gonna tell me what Robin said to you yesterday,” you ask Tess as you both grab hold of the mostly-broken headboard, “or do I have to guess?”

“God, would you drop that?” she grits, the two of you let the headboard topple over, now moved out of your way. “I don’t—”

“You said you won’t go back to Boston, that you’re done with it. What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Tess? Just tell me what she said to you.”

“She asked for a second chance, Liv,” Tess admits finally, her tone exasperated, dropping her hands at her sides. “There, are you happy? She asked me to consider giving her a second chance, and then in the same fucking sentence, she said that if I turned you and Joel over to FEDRA, for the smuggling, if I let her lock you both up, that she’d set us up for life. Like every bad thing I ever did never happened.” Her voice is shaking. “And you wanna know the worst part? The most fucked up part of it all?”

You know what she’s gonna say. “You considered it.”

“I fucking considered it! For half a goddamned second, I considered it. And now here we are, helping the Fireflies, so I guess my second chance is blown to shit no matter what. I can’t go back to Boston, because if she finds out what I did, what we’re doing, then we’re all fucked. Okay? Are you happy now? Are you…” She trails off, tears on her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

You grab her by the front of her coat, pulling her into a tight hug. “No, fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push, I just—”

“Actually give a fuck about me?” Tess asks, giving a humourless laugh. “I just can’t wrap my brain around it. I was so in love with her. I was two feet deep, head over fucking heels, and she just…she’s a totally different person now, and it’s like she expected me to stay exactly the fucking same.” She pulls back, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I just…I wasn’t expecting it, y’know?”

You nod, moving towards the now accessible hole in the drywall. “You deserve better shit than that.” Tess moves to follow you and you glance at her over your shoulder. “You know, I never liked her all that much.”

Tess shoves your backpack lightly, making you both laugh. “You’re a fucking asshole,” she says, but it’s peppered with laughter, her tone a hell of a lot lighter. You continue up the stairs to the terrace, the rest of the path clear. “You told me you loved her.”

“She always said she liked my spaghetti just a little too much,” you say, pinching your fingers together. Tess steps beside you, her shoulder falling against yours as she laughs. “Like, I know my spaghetti is good but that seemed to be her entire range of conversation.”

Tess laughs again. “Your spaghetti is really fucking good.”

“I know it is!”

“You definitely know your way around a flourless noodle,” Tess tells you, and you laugh more, but it cuts short in your throat as you approach the edge of the terrace.

“Well, fuck.”

+

“What about that guy last night?” the kid asks.

His heart does something funny in his chest. It doesn’t skip, doesn’t stall, but something twinges, a memory pulled to the surface, a feeling poorly replicated.

There’s a God’s honest answer on the tip of his tongue when he hears the thump against the door beside Ellie, and Joel’s instincts instantly kick into gear. He lifts the rifle, and Ellie moves to his side of the hallway.

Then your voice rings out. “Joel, put the gun down. It’s me.”

There are more thumping and scraping noises before the door swings inward, and there you are. There’s concrete dust in your hair, a smear of dirt on your cheek, but you’re otherwise intact. The look on your face doesn’t exactly inspire confidence, however, and Joel’s spine tingles with anticipation.

“It’s bad, Joel.”

You push the door a little wider, enough for them to step through. Joel lets Ellie go first, letting you lead the way up the steps. The terrace looks mostly intact, the same as he remembers it. You step onto the patio space, finding Tess leaning against one of the pillars holding up the frame. Wordlessly, you pull back the thick plastic sheet covering the patio, letting Joel step through to the edge of the terrace, Ellie following after him.

There are hundreds of them. Hundreds of Infected, all sprawled out on the concrete below, twitching and snarling and writhing. Ellie steps up on the ledge of the railing, pulling herself up higher, and Joel hears her curse under her breath. “There’s so many.”

“The last time we were here,” you say, glancing at Joel, “they were still deep inside the buildings. But I guess, enough people coming through, looking for the QZ, either it drew them out, or people went inside, looking for shelter, and there you go.”

You all watch as the clouds pass overhead, the sunlight filtering down onto the horde, making them all twitch simultaneously, the snarling growing louder.

“They’re connected,” Ellie says, turning to look at you.

Joel meets your eyes over the top of the kid’s head, and you nod, your eyes cutting to hers. “More than you know. The fungus grows underground, too. Long fibres like wires, stretching out for miles. You step on a patch of cordyceps in one place, and you can wake a dozen Infected somewhere else. Now they know where you are, and now they come for you.” The kid looks away from you, her attention pulled back to the horde below. You shift closer, get closer until she looks back at you. “You are not immune from being ripped apart,” you tell her, and Joel ignores the chill that shoots down his spine at your words. “You understand that? This is important, Ellie. I’m trying to keep you alive.”

Ellie swallows hard, but nods before stepping off the ledge. “So, we’re not goin’ that way.”

“No,” Tess agrees, shaking her head.

“What do we do then?” Ellie asks, looking back at you. “Not the short way?”

Your eyes shift to Joel’s. He knows what you’re gonna say, beats you to the punch. “Museum.”

Ellie is mostly quiet as you leave the hotel, taking a back exit that doesn’t involve cutting through the pond in the lobby again. Quieter still as you make your way through the streets, Tess leading you towards the museum. Joel doesn’t miss the way the kid stays close to your side, and every once in a while, he sees her turn towards you, ask you something, and you give her a quick answer.

“Holy shit,” Ellie curses as you walk up to the museum. The building has definitely seen better days, and Joel can remember earlier runs, years ago, when the cordyceps that now covers the building like ivy didn’t exist, glass panes in the windows not yet cracked by the fungus. “You’ve been in here before?”

You nod as Joel steps past you. “There’s a way across on the top floor.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“It’ll be fine, kid.”

Joel crouches down, inspecting a thick strand of fungus that’s spread out on the ground. It’s paler than the rest, cracked in places, almost dusty. He prods at it with the end of the rifle, sinking back on his heels when it gives a satisfying crack.

“It’s bone dry,” he says, turning back to you, looking between you and Tess. “Could mean they’re all finally dead in there.”

You just nod, sinking down as Joel follows suit, swinging your bag from your shoulders. You pull out the bat, setting it on the ground as you unzip your bag and produce a flashlight. Ellie just sort of stares, seemingly confused before Joel cocks a brow. “Did Marlene pack you one of these,” he asks, waving his  own light in the air, “or just sandwiches?”

“Oh, yeah,” she replies, reaching for her own bag and pulling out a smaller light.

“Okay, rules,” you say, resting the bat on your shoulder, your flashlight slid into the strap of your bag. “Same as last night. You stay between us, we go slow, and if we come up against anything, you get behind and you hide until one of us comes to get you. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry. Liv.”

“Let’s go.”

Joel hefts the rifle, curling his knuckles around the gun, testing his bruised hand. Ellie looks between the three of you, Joel with the rifle, Tess with her pistol, you with the bat and a gun at your hip. “I have a spare hand,” she says.

“Congratulations,” Joel retorts, and pushes forward to the door, you falling into step behind him. He leans through, careful not to move the already half-open door, and glances around. Clear. He pulls back, nods for the rest of you to follow him.

It’s dark inside, the building rumbling with every step you take, dust falling from the ceiling. There seems to be more fungus than Joel remembers being inside, and every step is calculated, a glance between where his foot is and where it needs to be before he even moves an inch.

The beams of your flashlights sweep side to side, illuminating long-forgotten exhibits and statues. Joel steps towards what was once the gift shop, seeing what remains of a body plastered to the floor, heaps of fungus growing off of it, the only sign it was once a human being the trucker cap where the head was, two legs sticking out from behind. “Yeah,” Joel says quietly, moving the light around, seeing another half-body stuck against the wall. “Cooked.”

“Finally,” you breathe out, tilting your head back on your shoulders. “Some fucking luck.”

“We should have just come this way in the first place,” Tess says, but then Ellie rounds the corner, her flashlight landing on something unseen, and her exclaimed oh shit! makes you all step quickly. You swing the bat down from your shoulder as Joel crosses behind Ellie, ready to shoot.

There’s a person in the corner. A person, not Infected. Human features, not a scrap of fungus in sight, but…bloody. Bloody in the way only one kind of Infected can cause.

Fuck.

“What the fuck did that?” Ellie asks, pointing her light closer as you lower the bat, looking at Joel.

 Your voice has dropped beneath a whisper, barely audible, and Joel stares at your mouth as you speak. There’s fresh fear in your eyes, that kind of terror he’s only seen on a handful of occasions. “Maybe…maybe he was attacked outside and crawled through the door. It was open, it could have been him. I don’t hear anything.”

“What would you hear?” Ellie says, her volume too loud, and Joel grits his teeth, lifting his hand, shushing her silently. She drops her voice to match yours. “Are you saying an Infected did that? Because I’ve been attacked by one and it wasn’t like that.”

“Okay,” Joel whispers, “from this point forward, we are silent. Not quiet, silent.”

“What—” Ellie starts, but he shakes his head at her. 

“No. No questions, just do it.”

The kid looks at you, but then nods.

Joel pushes to the front, leading you toward the staircase. Again, he pauses with every step, makes sure not to step on a patch, alive or not, tries to plant his feet where the steps don’t creak as hard. You get halfway up the staircase when the building rumbles, a loud crash in a far corner, and dust flutters from the ceiling. He sweeps his light as you go, points out spots to step when you pause behind him. 

Crunch.

Joel spins back, pointing the light past you. Ellie’s stepped on the remains of an arm, the hand stuck out onto the step, the joints cracking beneath the weight of her foot. The sound seems to echo, and a moment after, more rumbling follows. But no screeches. You keep going.

The fungus clears up some as you head toward the door that’ll lead out. Independence Hall. The door creaks when Joel pushes it open, checking that the coast is clear before nodding back to you. Tess follows first, then Ellie, and there’s more rumbling, more—

With a loud crack, the ceiling above the door gives way, sending a flurry of wood and debris down, blocking the doorway. You shove Ellie forward, sending the kid sprawling across the ground with a muffled cry, you sliding down after her. Joel cringes at the noise, and as soon as the debris has settled, he steps forward, reaches for your arm while Tess reaches for Ellie.

“Okay?” he mouths, squeezing your bicep once you’re upright. There’s dust smeared on your cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb. You just nod, give him a half-hearted thumbs up.

You all pause for a second, trying to catch your breath.

And a Clicker screeches, somewhere in the room.

Joel points his flashlight in the direction of the noise, you doing the same, Tess going the other direction. Silence. Then the clicking starts. It echoes through the room, sounding almost like the drip of a leaky faucet.

Ellie’s starting to panic. Joel can hear it in the way her breathing is growing quicker, and you all move backward, deeper into the room, hiding in a group of display cases. More clicking. Tess points her light in the direction you need to go, and the Clicker walks out.

Ugly motherfuckers.

More snarling, more clicking, and you spin, pointing your light over Joel’s shoulder. Another one.

You press yourselves against the glass of the display cases as one of the Clickers moves around the other side. Ellie looks like she’s about to pass out, and Joel catches her attention, tapping her arm. “They can’t see,” he mouths to her, waving a finger in front of his eyes before pointing to his ear, “but they can hear.”

The noises get closer, and Joel just looks at the kid, moves his finger to his lips. Quiet.

Behind Ellie, you’re holding your breath, both hands gripping the bat, and Tess has her face tipped toward the ceiling. Ellie’s shoulders shake, and the Clicker moves around the displays, almost stumbling across the floor in front of you.

Ellie shudders, the sound audible, and that God-awful face whips in your direction, the screech that follows making Joel’s ears ring. He pulls the trigger, firing the rifle as the Clicker lunges forward, grappling him. “Run!” he shouts, shoving the thing backward as the gun goes off again.

It descends into madness. Tess grabs Ellie and the two of them take off, sprinting in one direction, and you dive forward, swinging the bat at the Clicker’s knees as Joel tries to shove it back, losing the rifle in the process. More gunshots sound, and Joel hears Tess yell at Ellie to run.

Joel pushes the Clicker back hard enough to send it reeling, and you follow it with a hard smack to the head. It screams, presumably in pain, and the two of you take off, scrambling through the closest door. Joel pulls his pistol from the holster at his hip, fires over his shoulder, pushing you forward with his other hand. You run past one of those large marble busts on a pillar, and Joel watches you stop dead in your tracks, turning back to push it over, sending it crashing into the glass display on the wall before you’re grabbing his hand and pulling him further down the hallway. There’s another display at the corner, and you push it behind him, reaching for the pistol.

“Bullets?” you mouth.

“Coat pocket,” he mouths back.

You reach for his pocket, your flashlight illuminating the space between you. Clicking echoes, footsteps drawing closer, and your lashes flutter slightly as you fish out the bullets, sliding them into the chamber with shaking fingers. Another screech.

Joel clicks the chamber shut, and grabs your face with his free hand, forcing your eyes up to his. “Stay,” he tells you, and when your lips part to protest, he stops you with a soft kiss. When he pulls back, your brow is hard, but you nod.

Another step creaks the floorboards, and you lean out from behind the display, the beam of your flashlight landing on the approaching Clicker. You lift the bat, ready to swing, when something catches its attention, and its head snaps to the side, changing its trajectory.

You both turn, following the direction the Clicker had gone. Through the glass of more display cases, Joel can see Ellie crouched behind a lower one, her flashlight shooting beams across the floor. The Clicker veers off, not heading directly for her, but still getting too close for comfort.

You take a step forward, but Joel shoots his arm out, stopping you. “Stay.”

Slowly, Joel moves to the edge of the displays. He crouches low, drawing to the opposite side as Ellie’s attention snaps to him. More clicking. Her breathing is shallow, her eyes lined with tears that haven’t fallen. Joel looks at her, darts his eyes back to the display where you’re standing. The kid deflates with relief slightly, turning to follow Joel. He turns slowly, cringing with every snarl that echoes, takes a slow step that has his knees screaming in protest.

Crack.

He didn’t see the shard of glass on the ground. It splinters beneath his boot, the sound too loud.

Everything goes dead silent for a moment.

Screeeeeech.

The Clicker lunges clean over the display case Joel and Ellie are crouched behind, sending them both sprawling on their backs. Joel shoves his forearm against the thing’s chest, trying to keep the head as far away as possible, trying to keep himself away from its mouth. Ellie is screaming, shouting as she tries to push the thing back too.

You sprint into view, bat raised high, and as Joel manages to get a boot up and under, planted in the Clicker’s stomach, he shoves, and you swing. It screeches as the bat connects, but you don’t let up, swinging over and over until it stops moving.

Tess comes sprinting back to where you’re all standing, the second Clicker chasing after her. You grab her, pulling her behind you as the Clicker stumbles forward. There’s an ancient-looking axe embedded in the thing’s ear. Joel lifts his pistol, and empties the chamber, firing over and over and over until it also stops moving.

You’re all breathing heavy, fear in every face Joel looks at. You reach a hand out and he takes it, pulling you to his side. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” you reply, nodding quickly. “Tess?”

“Twisted ankle,” she replies, “but yeah.”

“Ellie?”

“Well, I didn’t shit my pants, so there’s that,” she says, and Joel sees the corner of your mouth twitch. But then the kid yanks up her sleeve, revealing a smear of blood around teeth marks in her forearm, right below her healed bite. “You fucking kidding me?” She sighs. “I mean, if it was gonna happen to one of us.”

Joel’s gut twists. A single bite is one thing; you’re proof enough. But two? What if—

“Hey,” you call, pulling him out of his thoughts, “let’s get the fuck out of here, yeah?”

You grab Ellie by her unbitten arm and make your way across the room to the window that leads out. Joel slides it open, holding it up for the three of you to climb through. Tess grunts as she slides onto her ass, pulling her boot off her injured foot. You swing your bag from your shoulder, fish out a rag from your first aid supplies, handing it to Ellie. “Put this around your arm.”

“Thanks.” The kid wanders away towards the ladder that’s balanced between the museum and the next building, pieces of wood spread across it. “Over there?”

“Yeah,” Joel answers, watching you pull a roll of electrical tape from the bag. The closest thing you have to a tensor bandage or a splint, right now. “I know it looks scary.”

“That was scary,” Ellie calls back, stepping onto the ladder. “This is wood.”

The three of you just watch as she walks across, her arms held out for balance. Joel hears you exhale when she reaches the other side. “Just wait there,” he calls. “Give us a minute.”

You pull on the electrical tape, unfurling the roll some, and Tess lifts her foot, wincing as you start to wrap the tape around her sock. Your hands are shaking, the roll falling sideways, twisting the tape once, and Joel reaches a hand out. “Let me.”

“I got it,” you shoot back, your eyes glued to the task at hand.

Joel sinks back, reaching for his own bag, checking if any of the bullets he has left will fit the rifle. The clip’s almost out. “There’s probably more ahead.”

“And we’ll deal with it when we get there,” you mutter, your eyes still down. Your hands shake harder, the tape falling from your grip again, and Joel reaches forward once more. “Joel, I got it.”

“What about the kid?” he asks, glancing between the two of you. “I mean, the first bite didn’t take, but what about the second? We are out of our league here.”

“God, you can’t ever just take the good news, can you?” Tess snaps, making both of you flinch. “Is it so hard to think that for once, we might actually do something right? That we might get exactly what we want? Fucking Christ, Joel.”

Your brow furrows slightly as you finish wrapping her ankle. “Tess.”

“Just go watch the kid, would you?” she spits, pushing your hands away when you reach for her. “I need a goddamn minute.”

Joel grabs the rifle from where he’d set it down, rising to his feet. He offers you his hand, hauling you up too. When he steps toward the ladder, you don’t follow, and when he looks back, you shake your head. “You go, I’ll catch up.”

“Liv,” Tess starts, but you wave your hand at Joel.

“Go.”

+

You cross the ladder a few minutes later, resisting the urge to sigh too loudly at Tess’s excuses, or lack thereof.

I just needed a goddamn minute.

We all need a goddamn minute, Tess. What—

Just stop, Liv. Please. That’s enough.

You’re all shaken. There’s no getting around that. You can count on one hand the number of times you’ve encountered a Clicker, but it doesn’t matter. You could fight a million and the fear would feel fresh, every single goddamned time.

Heart still racing in your chest, you quick-step across the ladder, the bat held in your grip, and as you touch down on the building on the other side, you slide it between the straps of your bag, rounding the corner to the remaining fire escape that’ll take you back down to street level.

Joel and Ellie stand towards the edge, both of them staring out at the landscape before you. Despite the destruction, there’s no denying how beautiful it is. The State House looms in the distance, a final marker, a landing point. You step up to Joel’s side, curling your hand around his wrist. He jumps, but softens when he sees you standing there, subconsciously leaning into you.

You look at Ellie. She still seems a little shocked, but mostly okay, the rag you’d handed her haphazardly tied around her arm. “You okay, kid?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” she answers, a touch of a smile on her lips as she nods.

The three of you turn as Tess rounds the corner, her steps heavy and echoing as she pushes through you and heads to the ladder. “Let’s go, before it gets dark.”

She grunts loudly as she swings herself onto the ladder, putting weight on her bad ankle. She disappears down the ladder, and Ellie looks at Joel, who just nods toward it. “Go on.”

It’s only a fraction of a moment, but as Ellie disappears after Tess, you see Joel’s eyes dip to his watch, his wrist twisting until the cracked face is tilted towards him.

You know what the watch means to him. You know why he won’t take it off, and you’ve never even dreamed of trying to find him a replacement. It pulls at something, something you’re not quite sure of yet, something that feels completely foreign to you.

“C’mon,” Joel says, leaning over to peck your temple before stepping towards the ladder. “You first, I’m right behind you.”

Despite her foot, Tess continues to lead, and you don’t miss the way she’s putting a healthy amount of space between herself and the rest of you. Ellie falls into step in the middle, you and Joel bringing up the rear. Long-parked cars flank either side of the road, every tree and shrug overgrown, most of the vehicles covered with vines, plants sprouting up through the engines.

“What’d she say to you?” Joel asks as the State House grows closer and closer. He juts his chin towards Tess.

“She’s shaken,” you say, sucking your teeth. “We all are, but…”

“But what?”

You recount what Robin had said to Tess, watching the anger flicker through his features. “That’s why she said she won’t go back to Boston. Not that I blame her.”

“I gotta—” Joel starts, trying to move towards Tess, but you grab his arm, pulling him back to your side.

“Joel, don’t. She doesn’t want to talk about it. I barely got it out of her, and then the museum…she just needs a sec.”

He grits his teeth, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “I never liked her. Robin, I mean.”

You actually crack a smile at that, sliding your arm through his. “That’s what I said!”

A few more minutes of walking, and you’re in front of the State House. It looks similar to the museum, in a way, but the structure is wrapped more with ivy than with fungus. Most of the windows are smashed, and in front of the building, is a truck. Repurposed by the Fireflies, stolen from FEDRA; you can see the paint streaks on the doors, covering up the logo. You’re surprised the little bug isn’t painted in its place.

“Where the fuck are they?” Tess grits out, and Ellie shoots you a look, her eyes wide with panic again.

“Wait here with Tess,” you tell her, and pull your pistol from its holster. Joel moves with you, lifting the rifle as you approach the truck. You reach for the handle of the door, waiting for Joel’s nod before you yank it open. He lifts the rifle, finger twitching at the trigger, but it’s empty. The blood you see on the inside of the door isn’t fresh.

You turn back to Tess and Ellie, holding up your hand. “Stay there.”

Slowly, you and Joel circle the truck, guns raised. The fuel tank is riddled with bullet holes, and there’s the buzz of insects, a body trapped beneath the wheels, long dead. Your gut rolls with the stench, and you hold your breath as you keep moving, back toward the rear of the truck.

“On three,” Joel murmurs, both of you reaching for the doors. “One…two…”

You pull the doors open simultaneously, both of you pointing your guns inside. Nothing. It’s empty.

“Joel!” Tess calls. “Liv!” A moment later, she rounds the truck, Ellie a half-step behind her. “What the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know,” Joel says, and you shake your head.

“Fucking Marlene,” you grit out, but then Ellie tugs on your jacket sleeve, pointing to drips of blood leading up the stairs.

“They went inside.”

“Come on,” Tess spits, and grabs Ellie by the arm, dragging her quickly up the steps.

“Tess!” you shout, running after her as she wrenches the door to the State House open and pushes Ellie in front of her, lifting her gun as the door bangs shut.

You’re through it a moment later, Joel at your heels, both of you with your guns raised, running after where Tess and Ellie have come to a stop in the middle of the large room.

Fuck.

“Holy shit.”

“Oh my god.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Joel murmurs.

There are bodies, at least six or seven of them. Fireflies, you assume, glancing around, taking in the work lights, the boxes of supplies, the large barrels of gas. The tang of blood in the air is at least better than the rotting body outside, and from the corner of your eye, you see Joel pull Ellie away when she steps too close to one of the bodies.

Meanwhile, Tess is in full panic mode. “I mean, there’s gotta be a, a fucking radio or something, right?” she says to no one in particular, and starts rummaging through the boxes.

“Did FEDRA kill them?” Ellie asks Joel, who shakes his head, planting his boot on the body and rolling it over.

“No,” he grits out. “One of them got bit. The healthy ones fought the sick ones, and everybody lost.” He turns to you. “This isn’t good.” He looks past you. “Tess, what are you doing?”

Tess comes barrelling around one of the pillars, a slightly wild look in her eye as she moves toward Ellie. “Where did Marlene say she was taking you?” she asks, and when the kid doesn’t answer right away, she barks her name.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Ellie answers, and Tess spins to look at you. Your brow furrows at her heaving breaths, the even wilder look in her eye. “Just west.”

“Fuck,” Tess curses, and heads for one of the bodies, crouching down. “Okay. One of them has gotta have a map on them, right?” She looks at you over her shoulder again. “Liv, would you help me?”

“Tess, stop it,” you call, rubbing your hand across your brow. “This is over, we need to…”

Joel catches your hand, squeezing. “We need to go back.”

You shake your head. “We can’t go back, Joel. We have to go to Lincoln, we have to…” You drop his hand, stepping back, your mind whirling. You move towards where Tess is crouched over one of the dead Fireflies, reaching a hand towards her. “Tess, you…you need to go back. I don’t fucking care what Robin said to you, you go back. You go back and you tell her whatever the fuck you have to. You go home.”

“That is not my fucking home!” Tess yells, her voice bouncing off the walls of the State House. You flinch back, and Joel’s right there, his hand curling around your upper arm.

Tess lets out a little sigh as she gets to her feet, her eyes darting around as she takes a half-step toward you. “I’m staying,” she breathes out, and her eyes are watery as she looks at you, then at Joel. “I mean…our luck had to run out sooner or later.” She shuffles forward another step, grabs your hand. “If you ever end up in Boston again, tell Robin that I still loved her, all right? Tell her I never stopped.”

“No,” you say, something between realization and fear settling over you, making your heart race. You pull away from her, falling back against Joel. “What are you saying? No. We’ll take Ellie, we’ll go to Lincoln and we’ll figure it out, but you, you go back to the QZ. You tell her yourself, and just—”

“Oh shit,” Ellie says behind you. Both you and Joel whip your heads in her direction, your breathing going shallow. “She’s Infected.”

You turn back to Tess, going to take a step forward, but Joel has a vicelike grip on your arm, keeping you in place. Tess scoffs, clearly impressed that Ellie figured it out.

“Show me,” you say, pulling against Joel’s hold. He won’t relent. “Show me, Tess.”

She takes a step forward, and Joel hauls you back. Tess sighs, the noise as shaky as you feel. She lifts her hand, pulls the collar of her jacket away, pushing her hair back at the same time. It’s right at her neck, above her collar, the jagged ring of teeth leaving her skin dark like a bruise, still bloody in some spots, and the spindly veins of infection stretch out from it.

“Oops, right?” She lets go of her jacket, letting it fall back into place, and her eyes flick to Ellie. “Take your bandage off.”

With a sigh, Ellie does as she’s asked, and Tess walks past you both, Joel pulling you out of her way as Tess grabs the kid’s arm. “Look at this. It happened at the same fucking time and she…she’s real, you get that? She’s fucking real.” Her hands are shaking as she lets go of Ellie, takes a step back.

You just stare at Tess, at your friend. Your best friend.

“Take her to Lincoln,” she says to you, and you inhale sharply. “Go to Bill and Frank, ask them for help. They’ll give you whatever you need, you know they will.”

“No,” you say quickly, stepping around Joel, pushing Ellie behind you. “We can’t, we don’t even know if they— No.”

“You’re gonna figure this out, Liv,” Tess says, her voice shaking. “You go, and you take the kid with you and you—”

“Tess, no, I’m—”

“No, you shut the fuck up, cuz I don’t have time,” she nearly sobs, and your breath hitches in your throat. “This is your chance, Liv. You get her to the Fireflies, I don’t care how you do it. But you do it. You keep her alive, and you set everything right.” She shakes her head. “Please, Liv, just—”

Behind Ellie, there’s a loud gasp and she curses, reaching for you as you grab her, shoving her behind you again, turning in the direction of the noise. One of the bodies gasps, fungal life returned as it crawls across the ground.

Joel wastes no time pulling his pistol out, silencing it permanently.

From where you’re standing, you can see the tendrils of fungus creep around the dead man’s hand, a patch of cordyceps beneath the tile sprouting through.

“Shit,” Joel grunts and sprints for the door you’d come in through. As soon as he cracks it open, you can hear the snarling echoing through the city, growing closer and closer.

He pulls the door shut with a bang. “How many?” Tess asks.

“All of them,” he says, his voice laced with panic. “Maybe a minute.”

Back at your side, you reach for Ellie as Tess picks a rifle up from the ground, uses it to hit the cap off one of the barrels of gasoline, and tips it on its side. “What are you doing?” Ellie calls.

“Making sure they don’t follow you.”

You go to step toward Tess as she flings a box of grenades across the ground. “Tess, wait, just—” She grabs your arm. Behind you, Joel steps forward, his boot sliding in the gasoline, and you look at him over your shoulder.

“Take Ellie outside,” you tell him, watching that hard mask of his fall into place. “I’ll be right there.”

“Liv—”

“Now, Joel.”

He grabs Ellie by the arm and starts hauling her toward the back door. She doesn’t go willingly, instantly screaming no!, calling him an asshole. The door thumps shut, and you turn back to Tess, tears pouring down your face.

“You take care of him, Liv,” she tells you, grabbing your shoulders. “Take care of both of them. They’re gonna need you, you hear me? They won’t make it without you.”

The truth is on the tip of your tongue. You can’t let her die, not knowing what you are. Not knowing that you could have been the reason she’d live past today, if you hadn’t been so selfish. The guilt is worse than any infection. “Tess, there’s something I—”

She pulls you to her, hugging you tightly, and you can feel her hands shaking at your back, her fingers tapping against your shoulders. “I know. Tommy told me, before he left. It didn’t matter, Liv; it doesn’t matter. I knew Joel would never let them take you, no matter what it would fix, not if it wasn’t guaranteed, if it meant taking you from him. But now…this could be real. She’s real, Liv. The kid. She can fix it. Make up for all the bad shit we did.”

It hits you like a ton of bricks, leaving you nearly limp in her arms. “Tess—”

“Take care of him, Liv. Please. For me.” She hugs you tighter. “Take care of yourself.” Then she pushes you back, out of her arms, so hard you stumble back a step, and she presses her gun into your hand. “Take this, and go. Please.”

You take another step back, a shaky breath falling out of you both at the same time. You hear the door creak open again. “Liv!” Joel shouts. “Come on!”

“Go,” Tess says again, just as Joel yells your name a second time.

You sprint back to the door, Joel grabbing you by the sleeve as soon as you’re within reach. The snarling gets louder, echoing through the State House as Joel slams the door shut. You take off running as soon as you’re out, Ellie standing on the steps, waiting for you. You grab her hand as Joel nearly leaps down the steps, all of you running as hard as you can, trying to get away from the building. Your feet hit the grass on the other side of the pavement, and behind you, the building rumbles, an explosion blowing out the windows, flames spewing from every window. It sends you all sprawling forward, stuck looking back at the building in horror.

The fire catches instantly, billowing outward, the plants clinging to the structure smoking away, screaming and flaming Infected stumbling out the door you’d just run out of. Joel lifts the rifle and you raise Tess’s pistol, still gripped tightly in your hand. Black smoke billows out of the State House, and wind whips at your face. You wait a few moments, guns raised, waiting to see if any Infected make it out. Nothing comes, and you drop the gun, hearing it clatter to the ground.

You cover your face with your hands, and you scream. The noise should be loud, Joel should grab you and cover your mouth with his palm, silence you somehow, but you scream so hard no sound comes out of you.

You feel Joel’s hand on your back, pulling at your jacket, tugging on your backpack. The bat is pressed impossibly hard between your shoulder blades, and he pulls it off of you, tossing it toward Ellie and hauling you to your feet. He crushes you to his chest, burying his hand in your hair. It’s the same thing he’d done last night, when the radio had gone off, when your panic over Bill and Frank had spiked. His hand moves down, palm covering the back of your neck, and he squeezes.

“We need to move, Liv.”

You suck down a deep breath, letting it fill your belly, forcing yourself to ignore the way your spine feels like it might rattle out of you completely. “We do.”

Ellie has tears on her face as she turns toward you, your bat held loosely in her grip. Joel releases you, and starts walking, slinging the rifle over his shoulder. You hold your hand out to her, and she takes it.

PREV | NEXT

[bakugo-softski]

Might get thrown off this site for this but. Fuck it. Hottest of takes incoming:

Feels like im the only one on this planet that is dead fucking tired of labels. Yes, including lgbtq+, gender labels, etc whatever the fuck. I’m so tired of it.

Like. I get it. We were oppressed for a goddamn long time. We deserve to love and be known in that love. Whatever. But honestly i just feel like it only separates and categorizes us even more than we were before.

We’re…fucking human. Why can’t we just…be human? Why can’t that be the defining connection we seek amongst ourselves?

I’m fucking tired of “gender-fluid-aro-masc-lesbian” whatever tf. its 2024 for fucks sake. Aliens exist.

Isnt…isnt it time for, just…

“Human.”

Who gives a fuck how you identify. Honestly.

We’re evolved and collectively traumatized enough by our shared world to be able to not care anymore. I promise. There are more important things.

And NO. This is not some secret dig at pride or whatever. I’m one of you, whatever the fuck that means. I just think its time to put it to rest. Grow. We’re past it, now. We can be past it, now.

If you like someone, you should know by the way you interact with that person, the way their pheromones make you feel, the way their eyes make your insides feel like mush when they look at you. Not if their self identifiers match up seamlessly with your self identifiers. Yknow?

Male, female, MTF trans, with surgery, without surgery. Fuck that noise.

Honestly..how hard would it be to just be like “hey, also-i have a dick, hope you’re into that.”

Anybody can make anybody feel good. Sex parts be damned. Wear whatever the fuck you want and don’t worry about how other people will identify you as- as if you could be identified as anything other than a human fucking being. Half the population have cum-buttons up their ass for a fucking reason, alright?

I just think the world and us human beings would get a lot further in life and love and existence if we threw all that extra shit away and agreed to be human beings together. As if that could be enough..because it could be. I swear it could be.

Trying to figure out who the fuck we all are has made us all crazy. But ill let you in on a little secret.

We’re just fucking human beings.

I swear we are. No other explanation for our existence needed.

[tobiasdrake]

So this is the Howling Grotto. Interesting place.

The gateway looks more technological down here. So do the lanterns I passed, actually.

I feel like this could relate to the Artificer and something called a "Kickball" from the fables? Not sure why it was named that, but I'm getting a technological otherworld vibe here.

Anyways, more pressing:

This keeps happe-- I mean this is the very first time that I've fallen somewhere and didn't mean to.

Oh, we're talking about flying squirrels? Yeah, they have this batlike membrane between their limbs. Do you have anything like a bat membrane that I could use?

Batlike membrane. I will be the terror of the skies. The turtles won't even know what hit them.

I clearly saw a bathroom sign on my way in. This has to be a populated location, at least at one point in time. Murals are not naturally forming.

Oh, the Molekin! This is a Molekin site. Back in the day, they used to have only one settlement remaining: The one on Sleeper Island. But that was after Wentworth annihilated their civilization in the war with the lizardfolk. So this is one of their ancient places.

Also, based on all the shit I've read about wind, they might not be wrong. There are some amazing ways magic can manipulate air currents. With so many sorcerers and mystic architects creating artificial wind under their own power, who's to say natural wind isn't, itself, the byproduct of some great deity or another?

If the sun and moon are personifications of great magical forces then there's no reason the wind can't be.

Between you and Quarble, there sure are a lot of people looking out for my journey. I don't know what the Scroll is but it must be really important if you guys are doing all of this for the mail boy.

Okay, let's go have a look around the molekin tunnels.

You know, Shopkeeper was right. This is really fun. And it confirms that the titular "Howling" is the wind kind, so I don't need to worry too much about werewolves down here.

Just turtles. That's fine. Tonight I dine on turtle soup. This is so easy, I feel like a master alrea--

I do not feel like a master already oh god why

It's fine. Just take a deep breath. Focus. Fly like a squirrel. A squirrel in a mole tunnel. Just spread your wings and--

._. Yes, bestie, I think that would be--

Oh. Wait. Sorry, I have trouble discerning sarcasm when I'm impaled and bleeding in an actual chasm..

Oh good, there's a Fuck That Noise backdoor. I was a little worried I'd have to make the return trip too.

We really are jumping straight into the deep end with this wingsuit. Mole tunnels were made to be navigated by some other means, I'm sure. And with fewer fireballs involved.

But you make do with what you've got. Adaptability. That's. Like. Life.

And sometimes you're rewarded.

...you know, now that I think about it, is Quarble an aspect of the mysterious time loop that all of these shards are symptomatic of? He said he has a magic ring that lets him freeze and rewind time and stuff. I wonder if that's a product of whatever temporal shenanigans are going on right now?

It feels related. Maybe he works for Resh'an.

Oh my god they're so cute

Little rolly polly adora-balls! Look at that little guy waddle waddle. It's the best. ^_^ Almost makes me regret having to harvest them for Time Shards.

It better be! I was robbed of a boss fight in Bamboo Creek and now I'm itching for a throwdown. Hit me with your best shot.

That person's an idiot. Everyone knows the best defense is a good offense. As the Scripture says, "Can't hit me if you're dead, fucko!" I look forward to having a spirited theological debate with whoever's in the next room. I'm going to wreck their shit. With logic.

An emerald. Golem. That's terrifying but also really cool. 10/10 craftsmanship, ancient mole people.

...I have a sword. Not. The most effective of choices for fighting a rock.

Oh, this is going to hurt, isn't it?

It did. It hurt very much. I have sharp things in places I didn't even know I had.

HEY, unfair, I did NOT. Do that. This time. I am presently innocent.

._. I just lost a philosophical debate to a pile of rocks. Why are you being mean to me?

[detectivemarkiprincess]

Coming back from the dead to chime in.

YOU NEED TO MAKE SOME MOTHERFUCKING NOISE.

Like...

MARKS FANS AS A WHOLE NEED TO MAKE SO MUCH NOISE.

Streaming services are canceling shows right and left these days, and if theyre stooping to this level of petty with Mark? You need to make so much noise.

And like i know i seem like some random person telling you to talk about a show, but i comr from experience. If you want Iron Lung to see the light of the day we HAVE to go above and beyond what the streaming service wants for Edge of Sleep. Top 10? They'll still screw him over.

What is my experience? My absolute favorite show got CANCELED! Just this year too!

And you may say a lot of shows have been cancelled this year but heres the difference.

My favorite show is Our Flag Means Death AND IT GOT CANCELLED BEING IN MAX'S TOP THREE.

So I am once again telling you YOU HAVE TO BE SO FUCKING LOUD.

In an effort to get the show renewed the fandom bought not one but TWO billboards (one in times square), a fly over plane, a boat, several advertising box trucks, we had the show trending on twitter constantly, we posted qr codes and links everywhere to our petition (85k signatures) to keep the show running. And it still got cancelled.

I learned some things from this process and it's that you have to make so much noise, you have to get outsiders involved, you have to be so loud and obnoxious, you have to make the streaming service listen and ALSO get others to watch the show.

Heres some ways you can do that:

1.) MAKE NOISE ON TWITTER

Now you might say you hate twitter, i do too. I laterally hate that place so much, but social media wise it has some of the most impact. Get a hashtag trending, talk about the show, let others know it exists. People will find it. Dont post spoilers but let people know youre enjoying it! Do a live tweet while you watch and KEEP YOUR HASHTAG GOING! You want it to trend, you need to have people see it. Even explain whats going on, that Prime is trying to screw Mark over. Do not let assholes comment on your posts being assholes. Block them and keep making as much noise as you can. Let people know where to watch.

2.) Streaming services look at their online statistics so look up the show!

Dont just google it! Click links! Check the IMDB page! RATE THE SHOW ON BOTH GOOGLE AND IMDB AND PRIME. Interact with the casts IMDB pages! Get clicks, get site traffic going. You want to make sure that the traffic shows generated interest in the show. Check the wikipedia page! Interact with it!

3.) STREAM IT ALL THE TIME!

But you cant just stream a show and not interact with it! INTERACT WITH THE SHOW. Pause it sometimes. Rewatch moments you really enjoyed! BUT WATCH IT ALL THE TIME! If you can? Play it on multiple devices! If you have multiple accounts watch on all of your accounts.

4.) SEARCH FOR IT ON AMAZON!

Even if it's right there, type it into the search bar! Get the search popular, and let Amazon know that you're looking!

5.) LEAVE A REVIEW AND RATE THE SHOW

It's imporant to let people, especially streaming services know that you liked it! Anywhere you can, leave a review! Give the show 5 stars and tell them WHY YOU LIKED IT!

6.) Enjoy it!

Dont forget to watch the show to enjoy it! But if you didnt like it, or it wasnt your cup of tea and you still wanna see iron lung? Dont leave a bad review. That won't help. The goal is to help push Mark's show to the top, to show Amazon and other streaming services that hes not just a "YouTuber" who only knows how to play video games and small projects. Mark is so much more than that and WE know that.

And for the love of everything i need to emphasize point 1.

MAKE AS MUCH NOISE AS YOU CAN!!!

We have to get the show out there! There's no advertising for it whatsoever and thats BULLSHIT! We have our work cut out for us.

Make tik toks, post youtube videos, GET ON TWITTER AND MAKE IT TREND! FIND PEOPLE WHO'S SHOWS WEREN'T GIVEN A CHANCE AND SHOW THEM KINDNESS AND THEY WILL SUPPORT YOU!

But making noise on a website that will cause an impact is so important! If we want the show to get past just Mark's youtube fanbase. We have to make so much noise!

I dont know about you guys but i wanna see Mark succeed! I believe in him so much and so it's extremely importanr to get the buzz going!

If i missed anything that may help, feel free to add.

alright gang, the rumors are true. The Edge of Sleep is now live (US only ig) on Amazon Prime Video. and i get what some of y'all are saying, "there doesn't need to be marketing because of mark's rabid fanbase!"

But guys. Guys. This is not a YouTube project. I hate to say it but even 30+ million Markiplier fans is not enough for what needs to happen here, unfortunately. This is ultimately about breaking out of the YouTube-fanbase sphere and getting this show to mainstream viewership. That's the goal-- this is about showing that a "YouTuber project" (even though Edge of Sleep was made by a professional production company and isn't really that) can have appeal beyond a preexisting audience. It's about, big picture, legitimizing the contributions of online creators in making films and television products for casual viewers.

So yeah, it's time to break out not just The Plan, but The Strategy. What is that, you ask? You'll see--check back tonight. This is a call for all hands on deck.

We ride at sunset-- the edge between day and night when the world starts to go to bed. We ride at the edge of sleep.

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony's Stupid Daily Blog (872): Wed 7th Aug 2024

Edinburgh Fringe day2 and after checking out of the hostel (which I've noticed I always sleep very soundly in. You know how some people can't piss if there's someone standing next to them? Maybe I can't sleep unless there's someone asleep in a bed directly above me) I headed off for my first show of the day: Glitch. This was a monologue style play about a woman returning home for her ten year high school reunion and confronting her turbulent relationship with her mother. The actress was really good but unfortunately I could feel my eyelids getting heavy and I had to start pinching myself to make sure I wouldn't fall asleep. It wasn't because the story was boring or the acting wasn't good and as I've just discussed I slept like a baby last night, but for some reason I felt like I was about to nod off. Also to make matters worse there were arseholes drilling outside which made it hard to hear what the actress was saying as this venue had very thin walls as it's essentially a converted shipping container. Word of advice to future performers: set your play on a fucking building site because the noise from outside will create a perfect ambience and you won't need to hire a sound effects person. I still enjoyed it as the actress was very good I just hope she didn't notice that I was desperately trying to force myself not to nod off. I suspected that it may have been because I hadn't had a coffee this morning so before the next show I ducked into a cafe and got myself a nice strong mocha to wake myself the fuck up. My final show of this year's Fringe was just around the corner at Zoo Southside. This show was titled "The Signalman" and was about a train station signalman recounting the story of a recent derailing that resulted in many deaths right near his station. He confides in the audience that since then he's been haunted by visions of a shadowy figure standing at the other side of the tunnel waving at him and crying out "watch out". This was really well performed and the use of shadow, light and spooky sound effects gave off the impression that someone or something was constantly watching. The one thing that marred the show was that right near the end four old dickheads left just as the show was clearly coming to an end. They all were about seventy five and I suspect they only came into this show to hide from the Grim Reaper and left when the play started getting scary as they didn't want to drop dead from fright. I think the twist at the end of the play was that it was the signalman from the future at the other end of the tunnel warning himself about the upcoming collision or something I dunno. That's the only shitty thing about these shows at the festival it's not like you can go onto Wikipedia for a plot summary and you can't go up to the actor afterwards and ask what the play meant or you'll just look like an absolute moron. Well whatever it was about I enjoyed it and at least I didn't fall asleep or walkout with two minutes to go like a cunt would. I still had an hour or so before my train home so I went to a restaurant up the road from the train station and got myself a nice vegan burger and a beautiful non-alcoholic cocktail as I reflected on all the highlights from this Fringe. As much as I have enjoyed these festivals over the years I don't know if I want to come back again. The shows themselves are good but finding ways to kill time in between the shows is hard and also the amount of constant noise in the city and the rushing around to get to shows is becoming unbearable. I remember having the same feeling about London when I went there earlier this year to see AC/DC. It's a beautiful city but I think I've seen enough of it now and I need to start exploring some other places. At the very least I think I'm just going to reduce this visit to a one day thing. I'll get the train down at six in the AM and just spend nine hours going to show after show then getting the train back that night.

[suckitsurveys]

This time last year, what was happening in your life? It really wasn’t that much different, honestly.

Did you/will you have coffee or some other form of caffeine today? I have coffee right now..

Who did you last have a text conversation with and what was it about? My best friend Sarah was telling me she and her husband went to the mansion where they filmed The Big Lebowski and we were just quoting things back to each other lol.

Are there regular trains in and out of your town/city? Yes, and local ones as well.

Do you bathe your pets regularly? They bathe themselves.

Do you have a mailbox or do you collect your mail from the post office? We have a mailbox.

What was the last animal you saw, and was it a pet? No, it was a bunny.

Have you ever had an ear infection? I have. They’re quite unpleasant.

If you could watch any TV series right now, what would it be? I need to get into a BUNCH of shows. Succession and Severance both come to mind right now.

Would you have any clue when your best friend last got their hair cut? Nope.

Someone messages you just as you’re about to go to sleep. Do you reply? Definitely depends on who it is.

Do you grind your teeth, and if so, why do you do it? No.

Have you ever been hospitalized due to dehydration? No.

Is there anything you need to remember to do before the day ends? Get my city sticker for my car.

When you listen to music with headphones, do you keep the volume low enough to hear surrounding noise faintly, or do you blast it? It definitely depends.

What’s your favorite online radio site? Spotify.

Do your parents have any authority over who you date? No, I’m 33 and married.

How many different shades of nail polish do you have? On? Right now I have a clear iridescent polish with remnants of a french tip mani with pastels and gold glitter. A few of them broke so I had to just cut them all down. I also have a lovely mix of purple and teal on my toes from when my 4 yo niece painted them lol.

What did you have for breakfast this morning? A banana and I’m about to have two rice cakes with peanut butter.

Are you lucky enough to have an ice maker in your refrigerator door? I don’t.

Are you the type to wake up before the sun has even risen? On work days I have no choice.

Have you ever watched an anime series, start to finish? I was going to say FLCL but apparently they came out with more episodes and I was unaware, so I’ll have to watch those at some point. .

Do you feel the need to rant about anything right now? If so, go for it. I just really fucking hate my brother in law. I’m sure you all know that by now. He is the most fucking pretentious, horrible fucking person on the face of the earth. I can’t STAND being around him or listening to anything he has to say. I’d honestly rather spend the day with Trump, that’s how horrible he is. He thinks he’s so much smarter than EVERYONE and belittles my sister and her daughters and me all the fucking time and yet claims to be a feminist. Not to mention how much he fucking yells at them. And the GASLIGHTING when his daughters say he hurt their feelings by yelling oh my goddddddddddddd. His temper is off the fucking charts, especially when he drinks, and it’s WILD and terrifying. And the funny thing is, we have a lot of the same values and views and even sense of humor, but the way he talks about them makes me want to jump off a fucking cliff. Like, even if you agree with him, he will go ON AND ON AND FUCKING ON about shit. He has an opinion about fucking EVERYTHING and anything he doesn’t like is automatically stupid and not worth his time. Also, his favorite band is the Beatles and he thinks John Lennon is a god, so that right there should tell you everything you need to know about him. I want to ask my sister what the fucking god damn fuck she sees in him because he has NO fucking redeemable qualities except maybe that he’s intelligent, but he’s such an ASSHOLE about it. He also thinks no one has value unless they are educated (aka a college grad) which is such a fucking load of shit. You can read a hundred books and have a hundred degrees but that doesn’t make you a good person, which I hold up way higher than being “smart.” GODDDDDDD I fucking hate him. I am constantly torn about what to do about him because I want to go off on him SO BAD but I am so scared of what it would do to my relationship with my sister and my nieces, who I love more than anything in the fucking WORLD. But I also feel like I am not protecting them by allowing this to continue to happen to them. I also frequently feel like this is all in my head and that maybe everything is okay. But no, he’s a fucking dick It’s such a sticky, shitty fucking situation and I just wish he’d LEAVE.

Do you have a favorite towel? What color is it? Lol. Yeah, its red and blue with lobsters on it.

Have you seen any films with Judy Garland in them?: Yes, a few.

How did you feel when you woke up today? Why? So. TIRED.

Who was the last person you messaged on Facebook? My husband.

When was the last time you saw them? This morning.

Do you have a friend named Nick? What’s his favourite food? No.

What are you listening to? Nothing.

What year are you/did you graduate high school? I graduated high school in 2007.

Are you obsessed with anything? Oh yes.

Do you prefer waffles or pancakes? Waffles.

Do you prefer non-diet or diet soda? Non-diet.

Do you like seafood? Yes, it’s my favorite.

Are you craving anything right now? Sushi now, lol.

Do you dress appropriately for your age? Whatever.

If McDonald’s sold hot dogs, would you buy them? Probably not.  

How long is your hair? To my shoulders.

Do you like your neighbors? Yeah.

What’s your school motto? –

Has a bird ever flown into your window? No.

Which word did you say first, mama or dada? I have no idea.

How old were you when you learned to walk? A year.

What was your first pet’s name? Featherbrain and Lucky. Two Parakeets that were my 2nd grade class’ pet that we ended up taking for the summer and then keeping.

How many kids were in your class in kindergarten? Like 20-30 I think? I don’t remember.

Who was your best friend in elementary? I didn’t really have a “best” friend in grade school. They changed frequently.

Who was the best athlete in your freshman class? I don’t know.

What teacher did all the high school boys/girls have a crush on? All the boys thought the Spanish teacher was hot.

Where do you see yourself in a year? Healthier.

If you were able to change one thing about yourself, what would it be? ^I’d be healthier.

Are you content just blending in with the crowd? Yes. I hate being the center of attention.

[yandere-daydreams]

i play this game where u clean alien/monster viscera and the corpses of their victims. ever since discovering ur blog i cant play this game the same anymore. imagine this, ur a normal space janitor hired to clean some horrible bloodbath and u see all the past coworkers sent there previously, all dead/half eaten. u continue the detail anyway cuz u need ur job, and also the dropship has already left so like... you can only pray to whatever god there is that maybe the monster lurking in the shadows/vents has left site. i mean, u can hear like garbled noises in the ambience but it's better to just put some loud music to keep urself company and hope for the best. idk i'm not confident with my writing so sry if this doesn't make sense haha..

tw - imprisonment, mentions of death/blood, reader isn't a great person, and generalized monster-fucking.

i really like the idea of a being forced/coerced into taking a job that involves looking after or taking care of some elusive, monstrous, possibly alien creature being kept in a dark, underground facility, usually empty save for you, a few scientists, and a hundred or so armed soldiers. maybe you're a criminal and you had to choose between this or another two decades spent on death row, or just someone with no other options and very, very bad luck - it doesn't really matter, not after you've been sent to the facility, not after you've been told what what role you're supposed to play and what's going to happen if you fail to preform. you have a job to do, and you're either going to be killed by the beast you're taking care or one of the trigger-happy men standing guard at every other door. you might as well try to make it as long as you can, even if you've been told not to expect more than a few weeks.

you try not to think about it, but it's hard. you don't have many distractions (you're not allowed to have any contact with the outside world, and aside from the well-worn novellas you can beg off the more empathetic members of staff and the yellowed newspapers that are delivered months behind schedule), and your duties take up most of your day. when you're not replacing tattered sheets and cleaning stains you're unwilling to identify off the cement walls, you're hauling buckets of (what you hope is) synthetic meat to its feeding den or observing it through one-way mirrors, jotting down notes that you've been told are given to the ethologist, but you would swear just get thrown away as soon as they leave your hands. not that you're very interested in their research. if anything, it's hard not to feel bad for that scarred, skittering tangle of limbs and eyes and teeth. it's just as trapped as you are, just as bored, just as scared. sometimes, you think it's looking as you through the one-way glass, trying to communicate as it taps patterns into the concrete or clicks its many, many legs against one another, but you've been told that it isn't intelligent. you've been told not to listen if it ever tries to tell you anything.

you think you hear it sometimes, at night. it's supposed to be monitored around the clock, but a lot of things are supposed to happen here - a lot of things that, for whatever reason, just don't. you've definitely seen it, needle-point fangs peaking in through vent grates, its silhouette pressed against the far wall of your room after it thinks you've gone to sleep. it could hurt you, tear you apart before you even had the chance to scream, but it doesn't seem to want to, doesn't seem to plan to, for now, at least. you can't say the same for the soldiers it must come across when it slips out at night. you have to clean up their bodies, too, not that there's much of a body left by the time they're discovered. the higher-ups have been talking about reinforcements, about heightened security, but all their locks and alarms and security cameras only ever seem to make the problem worse, only seem to make their monster more eager to slip out and into your bed, more determined to find some unlucky guard to disembowel, or behead, or leave so bruised and bloodied and shredded, it'd be impossibly to try and guess how they might've been killed.

you could say something if you wanted to, and you know you should, but that wouldn't make anything better, would it? you know you're not going to be transferred, let alone let go, and you don't want to die. not so quickly, at least. not like that.

you don't want to die, and if this monster - if your monster wants to keep you alive for a few days longer than its competition would, then so be it.

[youryanderedaddy]

I had a dream just now that might make a good story. So, I had a virus on my laptop which allowed a hacker to see everything I did on my computer and use my webcam. The hacker ends up falling in love with me after stalking me for a few months and pays for someone on the dark web to kidnap me. It works, and then I wake up tied up in the hacker's arm as he caresses and kisses me. That's pretty much it, good night! 🌙

Yo this is my kink 😳

Also I couldn't not write this for Saeran, ok.

Title: Stranger danger

Tw: nsfw - ish, female reader, masturbation, cyber stalking, hacking, mentions of dark web, very irresponsible online behavior, obsessive behavior, implied kidnapping

You knew that this was a stupid idea. Lurking on the dark web with almost no protection other than the Tor browser and some free anti-virus program wasn't your best decision, but fuck it if it wasn't entertaining. You had always been drawn to the darker, scarier part of the human mind and this side of the internet proved quite interesting. Your friends always warned you about the dangers that came with looking up shady online searches and sites but everything had been quite peaceful so far. There weren't hackers or murderers on the dark web, the worst you had seen were people selling drugs and weapons for unreasonable prices, along with some questionable fetish porn and the typical popping ads.

Your favorite thing to do while online was chatting. Two weeks ago you had stumbled upon an unusual forum called "Scream buddies" where upon entering you were automatically connected to another random profile. The whole theme of the forum was discussing horror and mondo movies, shockumentaries and overall creepy stuff, your forte. The person you met on there shared a similar fascination with all things dark and gory which soon made talking to them the only thing you were looking forward upon opening the site.

You didn't know much about the guy behind the profile yet, except that he was a young man. His icon showed an eye so green it emited with the neon pigment and his username was just as mysterious - BlueRose7. You enjoyed chatting with him about your hobby but the thing you liked the most was undressing him little by little, metaphorically so, by getting pieces of information about his life. It started small - his favorite food, favorite book, favorite game, but the moment you tried digging deeper and asked whether he had siblings or not, the man simply disappeared for the next few days. You quickly realized just what type of topics you needed to avoid to keep your new friend from leaving. Family, childhood memories and work matters were out of the picture.

The stranger wasn't fair, not really. He didn't show you vulnerability and kept his secrecy while demanding to know everything there was to know about you. For the longest time you didn't want to answer just to stay on a equal footing, just to show him how frustrating it was, but there was something about the man that drew you in. He was magnetic, clever and witty, if a bit pessimistic and dark at times. You couldn't help telling him everything he wanted to hear - what your job was, whether you were single or not, all that jazz. In your defense, BlueRose7 actually listened to your stories, took your problems seriously and provided solutions, which despite being too extreme and overprotective at times (upon hearing that your bestfriend talked behind your back he offered to "take care" of her), were comforting. It was nice to have someone caring around even if you met him on a sketchy website.

Meanwhile your personal life wasn't going too great. You had to balance between attending college, working long shifts as a waitress and meeting your friends from time to time which was draining. On top of all there was a weird virus on your computer which resulted in the camera turning on and off and the most random times of the day - while you were studying, watching TV, or in some cases, fully naked and ready to take a bath. You didn't think much of it though, with all the illegal movies and games you downloaded along with the dark web lurking it was more than expected for your laptop to behave weirdly. You didn't even mention it to your friend from the IT major because you knew that he'd force you to delete Tor and put an end to your internet adventures.

One time you were particularly bored after several long lectures and you were laying in bed, the camera turned on once again. It was a hot afternoon and you were wearing boyshorts and a loose T- shirt with nothing underneath it, you were home alone so there was no need. The bright red spot was twinking like a recorder, the light reflecting in your eyes, when a silly little idea came to your mind. You slid your hand under your blouse and lifted the fabric up, exposing your breasts to the laptop, your nipples hardening due to the sudden coldness, becoming pink and stiff in seconds. You played with for a few minutes, pinching and pulling the buds gently, moaning softly into the pleasant sensation. Soon you could feel yourself getting wet, and slowly, teasingly, removed your shorts and panties. You smiled at the camera, biting your lip provocatively, imagining you were a camgirl performing for her desperate little fanboys and fangirls. The thought alone was enough to make you spread your legs wide and slip two fingers into your throbbing cunt, using the wetness to push deeper. You used your other hand to stroke your clit and whimpered wantonly, your face red, your neck sweaty and your heart pumping fast from the adrenaline. You were quickly reaching your orgasm and your mind wondered to the boy you were talking to in the forum. You wondered how he looked like, how his body was built, whether he was a sweet sensual lover or a rough mean one. Fucked up as it was, you pictured the man as one of your most loyal viewers, watching all of your streams with a fist around his thick vock and an excited grin on his face. He would comment things like "you look so beautiful like this" or perhaps even "pretty little slut" after tipping you enough to last you a week. Soon all the mental stimulation sent you over the edge and you came with a loud cry full of pleasure. Well, this felt good.

After your "performance" was over the camera was magically turned off, which may have caused some concerns if you weren't too busy feeling embarrassed and dirty about the unhinged fantasy you had just had, and with a person you knew nothing about. You managed to calm down though - it wasn't nothing more than a fun pastime, a naughty thought that would never become the reality. You would never actually meet BlueRose7, right? There was nothing to worry about, so you just went on with your day.

You had some dinner afterwards and decided to have an early night as you already felt full and tired. You put on your favoruite pajamas and laid in bed, staring at the ceiling until you fell into deep dreamless sleep.

You woke up due to a weird noise. You could hear someone's heavy breathing right next to your ear, someone's grabby hands were wrapped tightly against your body, trapping you between the wall and their hard chest. You had only a few seconds to scream before the intruder's palm covered your mouth.

"Shhh." The man whispered softly and stroked your hair like you were a doll he was playing with. "Don't scream or I'll be forced to hurt you, flower. I have a gun." His voice sounded deep and rough but this didn't stop you from thrashing and turning on your side until you came face to face with the man. It was dark in the room and you couldn't exactly see all his features but his enchanting green eyes would forever be burned into your memory - they seemed dashing, hypnotizing. You couldn't utter a word.

"It's me, the person you've been talking to all these months. I came to take you home" He spoke out suddenly, the line of his mouth twisting into a smile or a smirk, you couldn't quite tell. You shook your head no, tears threatening to spill all over your cheeks from the fear. It couldn't be him, the man would never do that to you. Or would he? With what little information you knew, you couldn't really tell. His hold finally loosen, seeing you quiet like that.

"Let me go, please." You begged, pushing at his shoulders weakly since you were still sleepy, groggy and tired. "I don't know you." You said, hoping this would remind the stranger you weren't friends, lovers or anything that gave him the right to be so close to you, to touch you so intimately. Unfortunately, this only seemed to amuse him and he chucked darkly as he pulled your hair away to place a small chaste kiss on your neck.

"But I know you, flower." Your supposed online friend replied shortly after, his eyes full of malice. "And your little show today makes me think you want to know me too." He added in a low tone, licking his lips before smashing them on yours, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth just to hear your whines and protests. Then it hit you. The camera, the virus, the questions. He had watched you, he knew where you worked, where you lived and studied, everything. You had told him after all.

The hacker thought you looked so adorable right now, figuring things out, helpless, confused, regretful and most of all, weak. You were so weak and careless, and he loved you for it. It reminded him of himself before life screwed him over.

You wouldn't be in this position, underneath him, if you had just told someone about your laptop virus and the bad guy you had encountered online. But Saeran couldn't say he wasn't glad your self-preservation instincts were so very broken and dysfunctional. He wouldn't meet you otherwise. "I need you, princess. That's why I'll take you to Paradise." These were the final words you heard before you felt lightheaded and sleepy again, your last memory a pair of green mint eyes.

You really shouldn't have trusted strangers on the internet.

[spencersawkward]

*concussions and confessions//spencer reid*

summary: a near-death experience encourages Spencer to admit his feelings for his best friend, even at the risk of ruining their relationship.

pairing: Fem!Reader/Spencer

content warnings: oh boy there’s a lot. i’ll start with the nonsexual ones-- choking (again, not sexual), blunt force, violence, some angst. ok time for the fun ones-- unprotected penetrative sex, masturbation, sex dream, oral (male receiving), slight dirty talk, creampie. lmk if there are more that i missed! 

word count: 5.4k

A/N: hi omg so i actually combined two requests for this bc i loved the concepts and i didn't wanna do one and not the other. i hope i do both of these justice hehe thanks for sending them! also sorry if the unsub scene sucks-- i don’t usually write that way, so i tried my best. 

request(s): omg if you need ideas for baby spence can you do a one shot where he's the girls best friend (she's not in the bau) and they are in love but neither of them admit it and he is really hurt in a case or almost dies or something traumatic and only when he gets back they confess their love... and then have sex 😏 ive been thinking about this concept alot 😌

can’t stop thinking about baby spencer (like s2-s4) & his girl best friend losing their virginity to each other... can you write a one shot on this please?

masterlist

"when are you coming back?" you ask over the line. you're lying on your bed, legs in the air while you talk to your best friend. it's been a long day for you, but a longer day for him. it's always a longer day for him. 

"you know that I don't know the answer to that question." Spencer's voice is soft as he attempts to keep quiet. he's two hours ahead and, despite the fact that you're both night owls, the person he's rooming with tonight isn't. 

"I know, but there's this Korean film festival that starts tomorrow and I was hoping you would be here to translate for me." you examine your nails while you talk. Spencer lets out a disappointed sigh. 

it's only been a few days since he left, but it's been a week since you last saw him and it feels like a long time. whenever he's not at work, you two are joined at the hip. ever since you first met a few years back at a poetry convention in DC, it feels like he's the only person who understands you. which is weird, because you couldn't be more different as individuals. 

"you should bring one of your other friends." 

"bold of you to assume I have other friends." you joke. Spencer chuckles to himself and your heart flutters. you love his laugh more than anything in the world. 

"I thought that was just me." he says. 

"oh, it is just you," you reply flatly. "I was trying to make you feel better."

you can practically feel Spencer smiling through the phone. although you tease him pretty frequently, he's sometimes able to get in his own shots. it's what makes your friendship interesting.

"hey," you add before he can say anything more. "how's the case going?" 

Spence starts to detail the whole thing, and you listen intently, the timbre and smoothness of his voice comforting you as you slip beneath the covers of your bed. you like the way he enunciates his words, his strange manner of speaking, because it lulls you to sleep. 

you know he's talking about horrible things, but something about the sound comforts you deeply. when he's not around, you're wishing you had it bottled up. 

he lays out their profile as it stands, and you fall silent. it's getting pretty late and you have to be up early for work tomorrow, so it would be a good idea to get some real rest. plus, Spencer needs to sleep, too-- even though he probably won't. 

you remember times when he'd call you at three in the morning, his mind whirring as he played chess against himself and asked if you wanted to hang out so he could teach you how. you hate chess, but of course you said yes; you'd been head over heels with him since your first conversation.

eventually, you feel yourself start to drift off. you don't even really know what he's saying; all of it blends together until you're laying there, one cheek pressed to the pillow and the receiver against the other. 

"Y/N?" he says your name abruptly and your eyes, which have been slowly drawing shut this whole time, fly open. 

"yeah?" 

"go to bed."

"what? no, I'll wait until you're done." you shift. 

"I could hear your breathing change." 

"then why didn't you just hang up?" you giggle. he goes silent for a moment and you wonder if he cut out, but then he responds. 

"I wanted to say goodnight." 

it's like a cage of butterflies is unleashed in your stomach. you wrinkle your nose as you get nervous. god, you miss him. things would be so much better if he was back. not like he'd be in your bed even if he was, though.  

"then say goodnight." you prod. he lets out an awkward little sound. 

"now I can't because you made it weird." 

"how did I make it weird?" 

"I don't know, you just did." he's so clumsy, your face heats up. you want to keep talking like this until morning.

"goodnight, Spence," the words sound reluctant, but you try to cover it up by teasing him further. "see, was that so bad?" 

"oh my god, Y/N--" he tries to sound exasperated. 

"no goodnight back?" you raise an eyebrow even though he can't see you right now.  

a lengthy silence again. "goodnight."

"that's what I thought." before he can protest, you end the call, settle into the covers. moonlight beams on the walls of your apartment, and you start to think about your best friend. about all the nights spent curled up on his couch with two bowls of popcorn, his ramblings about how much he loves his job and him asking about yours. 

he's a great listener. every time you talk, he nods along like he's hanging off every word. it's nice to feel heard that way, to have someone care. and he's fun to hang out with, too. you've met his team before and they all talk about how hard it is to get him to go out, but they don't see the same side of him that you do. 

Spencer is nerdy and cute and kind and sensitive. he makes you feel special. he's everything that you've ever wanted in a person. but it's not like it would matter, anyway. he hasn't really shown interest in any girls-- much less you. even if he did, you're scared of ruining the friendship. 

the fallout of not having him around at all... it would destroy you. and something, even if it's torturous, is better than nothing. 

which is why, as you sit there and remember being around him, your fingertips creep below the comforter. a familiar routine, they move over your stomach, until they reach the waistband of your panties. for a moment, you hesitate. it's wrong. he's your best friend. but he doesn't need to know that this is how you handle the ache he puts between your legs. 

as your index finger slides down your slit, you feel the wetness already forming. Spencer's hands, his mouth. the thought of his lips pressed to yours while he fucks you, holding your body like it's delicate. 

you don't know exactly how it would feel because you've never had sex, but you want to find out with him. he's never done it, either. you don't care; all you need is to have him inside of you, to see how he looks when he's on the edge. 

your mind wanders to the image of him parting your legs and rolling his eyes into the back of his head. the sensation of him filling you up. falling apart. 

you slide a finger inside, gasping at the way your walls tighten and your imagination runs wild. that tongue, lapping and making you squirm, your fingers twisted in his soft hair. he's so sweet; his attentiveness would make your legs shake. you want to look into his eyes while he does it. 

you add a second finger, curl them and brush over the most sensitive part. the pressure of his hips grinding into yours. your body curves up at the way you start to finger yourself, the other hand stimulating your clit. it's almost overwhelming, the way his name tumbles from your lips over and over. 

you've never wanted someone so badly in your life; he belongs in your bloodstream. the sounds he would make in your ear before finally cumming and collapsing on top of you, spent. you want to tire him out and then do it all over again. 

you're greedy on the edge, indulging in every single image of him you can conjure up, every dirty thing you'd say. finally, you feel yourself fall, the orgasm intense as you bite back groans of pleasure and work through the high. it's amazing. 

you sit there, panting, feeling your heart beat in your chest. some things can't leave your head, they're so sinful. and the worst part is that you don't regret it in the slightest. 

...

Spencer can feel his pulse practically leaping against his throat as he makes his way through the empty warehouse. he should have waited for backup; he knows he should have, but it's too late now to go back and change things. 

he clutches his gun, pointing it in front of him while his eyes flicker wildly across the space. he's moving between enormous aisles stuffed with crates, not knowing who else is around. they said the unsub brought his newest victim here-- Spencer came first because was closest to the site-- but he hears nothing aside from the uneven rhythm of his own breath. 

every step is careful. he's thinking about how close the rest of the team must be. based on their distance from the station, they should arrive within six minutes-- but that doesn't account for the time it takes to put on their bulletproof vests, to get to their cars. 

truthfully, he doesn't know if he's going to have to do this on his own. and that scares him the most. 

there's no point in worrying. he swallows the lump in his throat and presses his back to one of the crates. there's a scraping noise a ways off that causes him to freeze. because of the echoes of the warehouse, the origin is indiscernible. he doesn't breathe, eyes darting between each of the openings into the aisle. 

after a minute of pure silence, he peels himself away and turns to head back out. 

and that's when the sound of wood cracking against bone startles him; he hears it before he feels it, but it's obvious when he crumples to the floor. like knife points pressing into his brain at all angles, the shooting agony in his skull. 

he starts to clutch at his head, only to be yanked off the ground by a meaty hand and thrown against the side of a crate. 

"fucking feds." the guy is enormous. gargantuan. he keeps his arm across Reid's throat, pressing down enough to restrict his airway. but Spencer can't even concentrate on the guy's face further than its rough outlines. his vision is going in and out, fuzzy at the edges from the blow to his head. 

he definitely has a concussion. 

"I..." he trails off. the huge FBI logo on his vest is a dead giveaway. 

"all alone?" the unsub has breath like rotten fish, spits each word into his face. "I won't even need my gun." 

Spencer's head lolls to the side and he catches sight of his own weapon lying helplessly a few feet away. there's no way he could get to it in time, even if he got out of this guy's chokehold. 

he tries to think of a way to talk himself out of this; after all, their profile said he'd be more susceptible to negotiation, but that's kind of hard to do with someone's forearm slammed against your trachea. he presses harder and Spencer sees stars. his glasses hang almost off the bridge of his nose, centimeters from falling to the floor. 

he starts to realize that he's going to die, defenseless and alone, in a warehouse. at the hands of a man who kills women because his Viagra doesn't work. but this doesn't incite the kind of panic Spencer always predicted he'd feel. the lack of oxygen in his brain causes him to go delirious. 

he misses home. his mom and his old house, even though things were hard. he misses Y/N, his team members. he wishes his team was here; he should have waited for them. he should have told Y/N how he feels. now she's never going to know. 

Reid is so out of it, he doesn't even notice the pressure being relieved from his throat until he collapses on the ground. the unsub falls, too, his cheek smashed by the force of the abandoned wooden plank. 

it's hard to tell what's happening until Reid lifts his head to see Morgan standing above him, preparing to handcuff the criminal.

"kid," Spencer never thought he'd be so glad to hear his voice. "what happened?"

...

you practically crash into Spencer's apartment the next evening, flinging your body through the front door with your spare key. 

"Spence?" you call out from the entryway. everything still looks the same, but when his colleague, Penelope, called you today to tell you that Reid had gotten a concussion after a run-in with an unsub, you rushed here as soon as you could. 

"in here." he calls from his bedroom. you don't hesitate, your feet carrying you there. you've been anxious all day; he didn't call last night or even text like usual. you were on the verge of panicking when Penelope called. 

of course, you knew that was the risk with Spencer. he knew the risk, too. his life would always be in the balance when it came to the cases, but he'd gone through so many at this point, you weren't thinking about it. if you did, you wouldn't be able to focus on anything else. 

when you walk in, the first thing you see is Spencer laying in bed in his silk pjs. there's a stack of unread books on his bedside table. his glasses sit on top. he's just laying there with his eyes closed. 

"oh my god." you mutter, dropping your bag on the floor and walking over. he opens his eyes with a slight smile. there's a purple bruise forming across his throat, light but definitely there.  

"hi." 

"what the fuck happened?" you ask the question you've been wondering the whole way here. 

"he hit me with a plank." Spencer explains, the phrase coming out like he's still confused about it. "I'm fine, just a mild concussion and a bruise because he choked me." 

you take a second to assess if he actually means that he's okay, or if he's trying not to worry you. he stares at your expression for a second. 

"Y/N, I'm really fine." 

"you don't look fine." you gesture to the fact that he's laying in bed. 

"my body is sore, but nothing's wrong with me. I just can't look at screens or read." this last part makes him much more melancholy, it seems. you reach down and ruffle his hair playfully. 

"sounds like a nightmare." 

"it is." he cracks up. 

"I'm glad you're okay." you sigh. your heart rate has slowed to a reasonable pace now that you know he's fine. Spencer gives a ghost of a smile, and when he pats the empty spot on the bed beside him, you kick off your shoes and climb over his body to sit down. "so... did you guys get him?" 

"the unsub?" he turns his head to look at you. something is in his eyes that you can't read. "yeah, he's in custody. we saved the girl he abducted, too." 

"well, aren't you a hero?" you grin, pinching his arm. 

"ow!" he flinches. "don't hurt the patient."

"oh, so now you're injured?" you giggle softly. his smile fades a bit, gaze trailing from your face to your legs. it isn't lustful or anything, more like he's taking in your existence. it still makes your heart flutter. 

"I wasn't really a hero, anyway," he sighs. "I got knocked down before I even found her." 

"oof." you wince. 

"yeah, it's sort of embarrassing. I went in by myself and--"

"you went by yourself?" you clarify, turning to face him. of course he did. 

"yeah." he avoids your gaze. 

"Spencer, I work in a stationery shop and I know you're supposed to wait for backup." you deadpan. he snorts, staring straight ahead at the wall. his hair is flat in the back from where he's been resting it against the headboard. 

"he would have hurt her if I had waited." he explains. your heart softens a bit at this. you know Spencer has a problem with saving people; sometimes he doesn't think things through. but you know that it's only because he cares. 

you smile gently, appreciating what a beautiful person he is. you don't understand how other people don't see him how you do. your hand reaches for his suddenly, and you find yourself snuggling into his shoulder. 

Spencer doesn't usually like touch, but he welcomes this, dropping his own head to rest on top of yours while you both stare at the wall. his silence feels heavy, more than it usually does, and you wonder what he's thinking. 

"I'm really glad you're okay, Spencer." your tone is low, like it's a secret. 

"you already said that." 

"shut up." 

"you care about me." he sing-songs with a smile, and you know he means it in a friendly way, but you don't care. it brings warmth to your cheeks. 

"whatever. you care about me, too." 

he lets out a slight chuckle. "when I started to black out, I thought of you." 

your heart leaps, even though the reason is pretty dark. "oh, yeah?"

"mhmm." he hums. 

"nobody's ever told me that they thought of me in their last moments of life before." you tease. there are so many things you'd like to say, but know you can't. he smells like himself and coffee beans, his skin warm beneath the silk of his pajamas. 

"I'd hope not."

"anything in particular?" you wonder aloud. 

"what?" you feel him tense beneath you, and that's how you know there's something he's not telling you. 

"were you thinking about anything in particular?" 

"someone's full of themselves." he jokes. you smack his arm.  

"humor me." more than anything, you want to hear his thoughts. you know you're reaching, but you don't care. 

"just..." he pauses, the next words coming out almost too quietly to hear. "things I never got to say to you." 

"like?" now you're intrigued. 

"no way." he laughs and you groan, turning and realizing that you've both sunk deeper onto the bed and are now practically lying down. 

"c'mon," you prod. you've flipped onto your side while you watch him, his eyes directed at the ceiling. "what if you'd actually died?" 

Spencer gives you a look, and you wish you could snap a picture of his face. the gentle features, the warmth in his eyes. he stares at you differently than before, and it makes your stomach flip again. "I, um." 

you start to trace your index absently down his forearm, where his sleeve has incidentally gotten rolled up. his skin is soft. you know that this isn't a friendly thing to do, but something inside you craves his touch right now. you almost lost him; you can't imagine how horrible that would be. 

"I wanted to say that I--" he gulps, muscles in his shoulder tight beneath your cheek. "well, I care about you, and I... I really love you." 

it's not the first time he's said it, obviously in a platonic sense. what affects you is that he's acting like it's a big deal. 

"I love you too, Spence." you smile softly. his chest rises and falls faster, his face tensed. 

"no, I mean--" he turns onto his side, using the action to distract from his own nervousness. he holds your gaze and you forget how to breathe as he speaks. every syllable is serious, but you note his fingers fidgeting at his side. "I'm in love with you." 

it's like all the air in the room has been sucked out. you swallow, unsure of how to react at first. you don't believe what you're hearing, simply because it doesn't make sense. you've been friends for a while, now, but Spencer has never made a move to ask you out or acted like he wanted anything more. 

your heart swells. 

"you're in love with me?" the words even feel surreal on your tongue. he takes it as rejection.

"I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry." Spencer rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, his expression turning to a cringe. he's about to sit up to hide the red in his cheeks, but you pull him back down by the shoulder. 

"not so fast, crazy boy." the corners of your mouth are turning up into a grin. you can't help it; every nerve in your body is alive. Spencer loves you. he feels the same way. 

when he sinks back down onto the mattress and sighs, preparing to say something that rescinds the statement to erase any awkwardness, you grab his face and turn it to yours. you don't kiss him, only force him to look. 

"I'm in love with you, too." 

his eyebrows fly up in surprise. "r-really?"

"yes." you nod. 

he takes a second to process this. you see about five different expressions pass over his face, each one reminding you of how earnest he is. and it's absolutely adorable. 

"well, that's good, isn't it?" he clarifies. you pretend to think on it. 

"I'd say so, yeah." 

he smiles. a genuine, rare one that makes your veins feel as if they're full of glitter. you're on Cloud 9. 

"can I kiss you?" you ask him quietly. he seems surprised at this, too, like he never thought you'd want that, but then nods eagerly. 

you close the gap between you on the bed, holding his jaw in one hand while the other rests on his forearm. your lips meet softly at first. he's cautious, scared of pushing you away. he hasn't kissed many people before. but he's good at it, letting you take the lead. 

there's no way to adequately describe kissing Spencer. every bone in your body turns to mush, immediately craving more contact. you slide your tongue across his full bottom lip, and he lets you in. his affection is the most loved you've ever felt. because sure, you haven't had sex, but you've kissed people before. 

never like this. 

one of his hands goes up to wrap around your forearm tenderly before he shifts to lie on his side. you wrap around each other, turning the kiss into a full-body embrace as you breathe in. you want more. your leg swings over his torso so you can pull yourself closer, and he groans into your mouth when your pelvis presses against his. 

the kiss gets more heated, his hands carefully but hungrily traveling down the curve of your waist. you flip so that you're straddling him without breaking any contact. 

you don't really think about the way your hips begin to rock against his, your pussy involuntarily working for friction. there are so many happy chemicals in your brain right now, you giggle against his mouth when his body bucks up into yours. he groans. 

"Y/N..." he breathes softly. his hands move from your waist to your thighs, afraid to dig his fingertips in. 

"what?" you sigh, licking over his bottom lip again. he moans at the way you keep grinding on his erection. 

"I wanna--" his eyelashes flutter when he gasps. "I wanna touch you." 

"do it." your palm is resting tenderly against his cheek. he responds by finally holding you down, sliding his body up a bit to grind against your center. you whine. "touch whatever you want, Spencer." 

his cock twitches in his pants and you push the hem of his shirt up while he uses one hand to massage your tits. the voracious, curious nature of his attention makes you sigh, touching his stomach. he feels perfect beneath you. 

soon you're grabbing at each other without any regard for grace. he's so horny, he's pawing at whatever he can while you do the same to him. the kissing gives way to straight panting while you look at each other. 

"can I suck your dick?" you whisper. Spencer's eyes widen. you've never seen him nod so fast. 

you press your mouth to his one more time before inching down his body, sucking on his clavicle, then his stomach. careful to avoid the purple marks on his neck. he watches you intently, memorizing the details of this moment for later. when you reach the waistband of his pants, you peek up. he strains against the material. 

your mouth drops open and you draw your tongue over the clothed bulge, maintaining eye contact. Spencer throws his head back. his voice is high. "oh my god, oh my god." 

you smirk, licking it again. he clenches his jaw. "I'm gonna c-cum if you don't--" he tries for words, but he's mewling and moving against your mouth. you pull at his pants, hooking your fingers in his boxers and bringing them down, too. 

Spencer bucks into the air when his cock hits his stomach. it's big, precum leaking helplessly out of the tip while he whines. you want him now. 

"wow." you smile. he stares at you, tensing his stomach as you wrap your hand around his length. he's trying to keep quiet, but as soon as you spit on it and start to pump him, his head falls back into the pillow. 

you draw your tongue up the underside, paying special attention to the veins, reveling in his reactions. he looks like he's ascending to heaven when you start to suck on the first couple inches.  

"o-oh, fuck..." he keeps moving his hips off the bed for more, so you sink down further onto him, hollowing your cheeks and moaning. "Y/N..." 

you groan in response, feeling yourself get wetter with every sound he makes. you can't believe this is happening, the way he threads his fingers loosely through your hair in an attempt to touch more of you.

he tries to keep his eyes open while you suck, but they squint with pleasure. he's a mess for you, shuddering gently when you take nearly all of him into your mouth. 

before he can cum, you pull your mouth off of him with a satisfying pop. Spencer moans. 

"was that okay?" you ask carefully. this is the extent of your sexual experience, and you want to do more with him, but you aren't sure how he feels. your best friend stares back at you like you've turned his world upside down. 

"y-yeah," he replies. his face is flushed. "definitely okay."

he's throbbing, occasionally twitching against his stomach as he waits for more stimulation. you eye him carefully. 

"what do you feel comfortable doing?" your voice is smooth. "we can stop now, if you'd like." 

"I--" he chokes on the word. "I don't wanna stop." 

"do you want to have sex?" you ask. Spencer bites his lip, whines. 

"mhmm." 

"I wanna do that, too," you breathe out, straightening up and pulling your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra, before getting to work on your shorts. you know you're practically dripping. he's been more vocal, but you feel like you're going to implode from the desire. "but I need to tell you something." 

"what?" he tugs your arm, coaxing you back to him and touching you greedily. you giggle as you kick your shorts and panties off somewhere in the room. both of you move like awkward teenagers. 

"I'm a virgin." you say. 

Spencer frowns. "really?" 

"yeah," you lick your lips. "so you need to be careful." 

"o-of course." he blushes, getting nervous again. "you know I'm a virgin too, right?"

"I know." you smile. he returns it sweetly, and the commotion of your bodies slows for a moment. you're so happy, you could cry. 

"what?" he breaks the comfortable silence. 

"I'm excited," you shrug. he's got his hands on your waist, rubbing his fingertips over your skin. then you remember something. "wait, are you allowed to have sex with your... injury?" 

"it's fine." he reaches up and kisses your throat with an urgency. 

"did the doctor say that?" your eyes roll while he sucks on your neck. he groans and pulls down on your waist so that your stomach presses against his cock. he ruts. 

"second opinion from me." he pants. you tap his cheek playfully, move up his body until your core brushes him. he whimpers when you reach between your bodies and grip his length in your hands. 

"you ready?" your voice is low. Spencer squeezes your thighs, eyes moving between your tits and your face. 

"yes." he sighs. you position it, slicking him in your pussy while he wraps an arm around your waist and moans for more. your chests are pressed together, looking into each other's eyes while you slide him into you. 

you have to go slow, the intrusion causing your jaw to drop. you don't breathe. he's got his eyes rolled into the back of his head.  

"Spencer." you whimper, dropping your head onto his chest when he's fully inside of you. his fingers rub patiently over your back. 

"are you okay?" his voice is laced with a moan, trying to resist thrusting. 

"yeah, just a second." you wiggle a little bit to test the boundaries. it hurts, but it also feels good. your clit is begging for more pressure, so you start to roll your hips. Reid moans loudly. 

"Y/N..." he whimpers. "don't stop." 

"you want more?" the need in his voice makes you hornier, and you increase the pace, despite the slight pain. you're so wet, he slides in and out without much effort. 

"so-- much more." he's gasping, hands on your thighs as he watches your naked body writhe on top of him. he's never been more aroused in his life, spurred on by your scent and form and the tightness that keeps clenching around his cock.

he understands why people love sex so much, now. he wants it every day, wants to fuck you in every position and pleasure you. the sounds you release in his ear, whines and praises, he would do anything for more. walk to the ends of the earth to feel you cum on his cock. 

his hand finds your ass, squeezes it. 

"this feel good, Spence? fucking your best friend?" you talk dirty and he twitches. you're always so sweet, the words coming out of your mouth for him are going to send the genius into a tailspin. 

"mhmm," he holds you down so that he can thrust up. speaking at all is a struggle with the way he's feeling. "perfect." 

you start to say something else, but he hits a certain angle and you let out a quiet yelp, hips jumping at the pleasure. "I'm gonna cum." 

Spencer gets a rush of relief because it's taking everything in him right now not to absolutely lose it inside your pussy. he's hanging on by a thread. "me, too." 

you use your position on top to stimulate yourself. both of you chase your orgasms roughly, the rhythm you created degenerating into clawing excitement. 

"cum inside me, Spencer." you beg him. it sounds like you would do anything to feel it, that sensation that you've never experience but have always imagined. and Spencer, his own head foggy with ecstasy, nods and opens his mouth to let out a loud groan. 

"Y/N, fuck fuck fuck-- I'm--" he shoots his load inside of you, rutting wildly and letting his head drop onto the pillow while he pants. you can feel it. strange, lovely jolts of his seed spreading. your hands, which have been resting on his shoulders, tighten and you reach your climax. you flutter around him, both of you still moving to ease the intensity of the high. 

it's remarkable. you're crying out, having the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life. you never thought your first time would be like this. but you're glad it is, muscles tightening and releasing with the mixture of emotions. 

you collapse fully, him still inside. 

neither of you speaks. his heartbeat thuds against your ear, and you hold onto him like letting go would be the end of the world. you can't believe you could have lost him. you don't want to think about it. 

"sorry I came so fast." Spencer apologizes breathlessly. you can feel his cum dripping down your entrance when he slides out. 

"I don't care." you mumble. both of you stay there for a while, his heartbeat changing to a pace that reminds you of genuine excitement. like a hummingbird. 

"we can try again, sometime." he offers. you lift your head to rest your chin on his chest. his skin is flushed, pupils dilated, hair messy. such a pretty boy. 

"we should try multiple times." 

he gives you a cheerful smile, and everything starts to fall into place. you took each other's virginity. "Y/N?" 

he likes to say your name, and you love to hear it. "yes?" 

"are we dating?" the bluntness of the question makes you giggle. you don't hesitate. 

"yeah." 

“good.”

taglist (lmk if you wanna be added/removed!): @reidsconverse @voidsfilm @xoxomgg​ 

[storiesforallfandoms]

the only one for me ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1493

request?: yes!

“MGK Fluff ??”

description: the endless dating rumors regarding her boyfriend start to get to her

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, insecurities

masterlist (one, two)

Logging onto Twitter and seeing yet another dating rumor regarding my boyfriend and some famous, beautiful female was basically a daily routine at this point. It seemed to be nothing new, but that didn’t make it hurt any less every time I saw a new post about it.

The latest rumored lady to have “stolen Colson’s heart” was Megan Fox, who had starred in Colson’s latest music video. The article I was reading stated how much chemistry Colson and Megan had on set and how it was “so obvious” that they had a secret romance happening behind the scenes.

I wasn’t hurt because I believed the rumors. I trusted Colson. I knew he’d never cheat on me, but seeing all these beautiful women and seeing his fans and media outlets commenting on how cute he would look with someone else so much prettier than me really did nothing for my confidence.

I wasn’t famous, I was just your average girl who worked an average hob and went to school on the side. Due to this, Colson and I decided to keep our relationship a secret so I wouldn’t be harassed by paparazzi and fans. I appreciated the privacy I had been getting, but it did make it hard to see all these dating rumors.

This rumor got to me in a way the others hadn’t before and I had an overwhelming urge to call Colson. He was probably asleep or preparing for the show that night, but I needed to hear his voice.

I was shocked when he answered on the third ring. “Hey babe!”

I could hear a crowd on his end of the call. “Hey! What’s all the noise?”

“We’re celebrating before I go on stage.”

“Before?” I asked, teasingly. “What are you guys celebrating?”

“The Bloody Valentine video hit a million views in less than 24 hours! None of my videos have ever done that before, so we’re celebrating.”

“Oh my God, Colson that’s amazing! Congratulations!”

Someone called out to Colson on his end. I could hear him responding, but his response was muffled as I realized the voice was a female voice.

“Is that...is that Megan?” I asked.

“Yeah! We invited her since she’s the leading lady of the video.” Another comment was made by Megan, to which Colson said to me, “She says hi!”

I couldn’t respond. I could feel tears starting to well up in my eyes and I was afraid Colson would hear my voice breaking if I spoke. Instead, I managed to squeak out a “gotta go” before hanging up.

~~~~~~

As I expected, there were articles published about the video celebration, specifically about Colson and Megan. A handful of pictures were taken outside wherever the celebration was taking place of Colson and Megan laughing as he puffed on a joint. The captions posted under this picture from numerous sites and fan pages were all the same: “look how cute Megan and Colson are!”

I had to go offline for a while because I was getting more upset than I had before.

It seemed like Colson didn’t notice as much as I did, so I never really brought the issue up. I didn’t want him to think he couldn’t be friends with women, or think of me as a jealous girlfriend or anything.

But I knew he could tell something was off. He kept trying to coax it out of me, but I wouldn’t budge. I figured he would grow tired of my refusal and would let it go. The last thing I expected was to come home from work one day and find Colson waiting for me in my apartment.

“Hey!” I said when I found him sat in my living room. “What are you doing here?”

“We have a few days before the next show, so I asked to come home before then,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you.”

The six worst words to ever hear. I felt my worry rise as I approached him and sat next to him on the couch.

“What’s on your mind lately?” he asked. “I know you keep saying it’s nothing, but I can tell it’s not nothing. I’m worried about you, babe. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

I looked down at my lap as I shrugged. “It’s nothing. Just work and school, I guess.”

“Is this about Megan?”

For some reason, hearing him say her name felt like I was being stabbed through the heart. I had to bite my lip to try and hold back my tears.

“When you hung up so suddenly during the video celebration, I realized something was up,” he said. “And then you started deleting your social media accounts, or making them private, and you were acting different. It all started that night. If it’s because we invited Megan to the party, I’m sorry if that upset you. There was no underlying meanings behind inviting her, it was just because she was in the video and we decided she should be at the celebration.”

“It’s not because she was there!” I finally snapped, unable to hold myself back. “I don’t care if you’re friends with Megan, or with any woman, but I do care that everyone thinks you’re dating every female who so much as breathes in your direction. And it really doesn’t help my self-esteem to see people saying how happy you look or how cute you’d look with someone who is, like, a million times prettier than me.”

“Babe, that’s not true,” he said. “I mean, I’ve seen the rumors about me and Megan, but it’s not all the women I’m friends with - ”

I laughed, humorlessly. “No, not all of them. Just Chantal and Noah and Ash and Sommer and now Megan. So no, not all of them, just most of them.”

I could see the gears turning in Colson’s head as he thought about it. Maybe he didn’t see the same stuff I did, maybe I just saw more because of how insecure it made me. But those rumors were there, and they had been nearly our entire relationship.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I never realized...I don’t attention to shit like that. I never thought much about the way I acted around my female friends.”

“You treat them the way you treat the boys,” I said. “I’ve seen how you are with Ash, the two of you are just friends. But people don’t believe that men and women can just be friends so when they see men and women acting as friends, they assume that means they’re dating. There’s nothing you can really do about it.”

Colson put a hand on mine and gave it a squeeze. “You don’t believe any of that shit though, right? You know it’s all media bullshit.”

I nodded. “Yeah, of course I do. I know you’d never cheat on me. I trust you so much.”

“And you can’t possibly believe that they’re any more beautiful than you are.”

I chuckled. “Okay, that one I can’t agree to considering the person you’re currently in a dating rumor with is Megan fucking Fox. I mean, have you seen her? She’s the most beautiful woman in the world!”

“Not to me she’s not.”

I looked away from him again, feeling my cheeks heat up and a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “You don’t mean that.”

“Of course I do.” I felt his finger gently touch my chin, lifting my head so I would look at him. “(Y/N), I hope you know you mean the world to me. You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever known, and you own my heart. You’re the only one for me and I love you more than words could ever say. I’m sorry you’ve had to witness all these stupid rumors, and I’m sorry I never noticed them so I could assure you of all of this sooner. But I mean it, you’re everything to me. I love you so much.”

The tears I had been holding back for so long finally started to fall down my cheeks. I awkwardly laughed as I tried to wipe them away, but they just kept coming. “That was so cliche.”

“You loved it, though.”

“I love you, that’s a whole different thing.”

Colson smiled and pulled me in for a kiss. Warmth filled me as my lips touched his, and it was just another reminder that he was mine. I ran my hand through his hair and leaned into him until we were both laying back on the couch.

When we finally managed to pull away from one another, Colson rested his forehead on mine. “Did you have any other plans today?”

I shook my head.

“Good, because I don’t intend on letting you leave this apartment any time soon.”

He wrapped me into a tight cuddle, and I gladly accepted these plans he had made for us.

[h34vybottom]

I think maybe there just isn't. Jenna Marbles had the right idea of just leaving forever.

No matter what the person could say and do, people will always lord the controversy over the target's head. Misinformation about the target will run rampant as internet telephone takes hold. Malicious actors can abuse the situation to do some horrid shit. Among so many other things.

I have two examples on the top of my mind.

James Somerton recently got his Tik Tok and alt Twitter accounts revealed. Through which, it was reported that Somerton, while claiming to have committed suicide, was posting his ass and some of his balls. Through the reposts of the tweets revealing this information onto this site, I saw people claiming that they want Somerton to die (I doubt most of these were serious, but still) as well a lot of larger accounts and repost posts spreading misinformation about the tweets they were literally reposting and/or posting about. People were claiming that Somerton was posting cock despite, once again, the source not mentioning his penis at all. People were misinterpreting plainly stated statements, like Somerton was taking pictures from a dating website to use on an alternative account and turned that into he stole his ass and balls pic (There's no proof of that; Again, source tweets debunk this claim). A sea of misinformation has washed over this case *and* that's incredibly ironic, given how many people were mad at Somerton spreading misinformation to such a massive degree actual fucking celebrities were spreading his bullshit.

During Twitter's meltdown over Lindsay Ellis's tweets about some shitty Disney product no one watched, multiple people decided to start a hit list of other women who make YouTube content. My main example for this entry, Kat Blaque was being harassed by a white man pretending to be three black women. This troll used the social outrage on Twitter to attack a black woman despite the social outrage being started over what people considered to be racist tweets (I'm not litigating this shit, do that elsewhere. We do not need a repeat of that meltdown). While people may have gone into this Twitter storm w/ good intentions, those good intentions just became part of the storm. A lot of people shared a lot of posts attacking a lot of femme YouTube creators based on misinformation spread by people abusing the meltdown for engagement farming and likes. A white man lied about being three black women to attack a black woman, using the outrage against Ellis as a weapon.

I just don't see how any of this is conductive to understanding and growth. If anything, this all seems reactionary. It's cyclical. No matter what, there will always be a new target. A new societal enemy to take down. Currently, it's Drake? I think? Shit moves fast. There just doesn't seem to be any sort of parser for the noise.

And what if that target does not want to or just does not change? What if the backlash makes them a worse person? Do we have to live life knowing that there will always be a Tila Tequila? What's the solution for this shit? Cuz as it stands, this shit ain't a solution.

Is there really any way to properly change for the better as a person on the internet who became the weekly/monthly target?

[narrators-journal]

Ryoji Mochizuki headcanons

So, these are just some of my thoughts on Ryoji, I have it split into the ones about how he’d act DURING canon, and then the ones for how I think he’d behave AFTER canon events, so be warned of spoilers. Other than that, I hope you enjoy and can agree on at least a few of my takes 💕

CW: Slight mentions of self-harm at the end, kind of sad takes included as well as some slightly spicier takes. Also spoilers.

During canon

Ryoji is a very active, social man.

He's pretty and he knows it.

Atlus tries so hard to make him straight, but the movies only succeeded in making him aggressively bisexual.

He is a horrible flirt. If he finds anyone attractive, he hits on them without hesitation.

Ryoji is not a virgin.

He's got a lot of kinks, like being a masochist, being degraded, giving praise, bondage, and a slew more, some of which are kind of dangerous.

He also has a bad habit of saying morbid things and not seeming to find an issue with them. He rarely means ill in these moments, but it can often disturb others.

He has a fucked up sense of humor. Dirty jokes, morbid jokes, questionable ethical jokes, they all make him laugh.

You'd think Ryoji has a very nice laugh, very nice to listen to. But this man's honest laugh sounds like a madman's cackle if said madman smoked three packs a day. It's not the prettiest of noises.

He's got an issue with insomnia, often unable to keep a consistent sleep schedule and sometimes falling asleep during the day.

He has a subscription to more than one porn site. Very likely multiple.

While he is a flirt, when in a relationship he is still insanely loyal.

This, and his flirtation in general, often leads to him accidentally leading people on.

He is a switch. As a top, he's a very caring, attentive partner more focused on his lover than himself. As a bottom he is loud, whiny, and swift to give praises whenever he can.

Ryoji lacks a lot of shame.

He often starts off sleeping on his side or stomach, but he almost always wakes up on his stomach.

Absolutely adores back and shoulder rubs. He really just loves massages in general.

Ryoji cannot cook that well, but he tries his best and knows a handful of foods that he can make very well.

Post canon

Not a lot changes after the game for his general personality.

Ryoji is still a flirty, slightly horny, active, social butterfly with no shame or real filter at times.

However, his humor grows much more disturbing. As in, instead of simply laughing at dirty jokes and morbid humor from Minato, Ryoji would also laugh at a doomed person fighting for their life.

When he was first released, the brunette had little to no real grasp of what grief was, so he truly did not see any form of an issue with his work, role in The Fall, and death all around.

Ryoji doesn't lack empathy, he simply had no experience with loss and grief, so he couldn't understand a human's misery at the threat of death for a long while.

It took the ten years he spent with Minato, the love he developed for the boy, and feeling the pain of loss when Minato found him with Aigis after their confrontation for him to really understand how The Fall was not the best route for the world.

Ryoji can go without food, not needing it to live thanks to being a deity of death. However, he still does simply because he enjoys the taste.

The same goes for sleep. He doesn't actively require sleep like a normal person, unless the brunette decides to sleep, he won't even get tired. It's a perk of being an immortal creature.

Post canon, Ryoji is somewhat lonely.

He rarely, if ever, interacts with the S.E.E.S anymore. He simply feels too bad about what happened and doesn't want to dig into any wounds.

Ryoji continues to go by 'Ryoji Mochizuki' even after he remembers what he is.

Similarly with food though, he often chooses to sleep pretty regularly, or at least lay down.

He still fucking loves backrubs and shoulder rubs.

Remembering his role does not help his cooking.

His insomnia is less fixed and more explained. He's figured out his trick to sleeping, though.

After the game, Ryoji grows to be a bit more sensitive towards things like self harm.