#I’d never gone thrifting before!!

[sofitai28]

last minute low effort late Halloween post :3 points for whoever knows who I went as (although I suspect tumblr users will get it more than my irl friends. this also doesn’t look like me but. whatever)

[fratttymatty]

Nerd No More

(All characters are 18+)

Elliot Chambers had never fit in.

At 18, he was the definition of an outcast—shy, awkward, and painfully thin. His curly brown hair always looked messy, no matter how much he tried to fix it, and his thrift store clothes hung loosely on his frame.

Being gay in his small-town high school hadn’t exactly helped either. The jocks ignored him at best and mocked him at worst. The girls saw him as harmless, like some kind of fashion accessory they could rant to about their boyfriend problems. The only place he felt comfortable was in online political debates, where he proudly argued for LGBTQ+ rights, feminism, and every progressive cause he could defend.

But none of that mattered, because tonight, Elliot was alone in his bedroom, celebrating his high school graduation in the saddest way possible—by watching Scream 6 for the twentieth time.

And, like always, his eyes kept drifting to Ethan Landry.

Ethan was everything Elliot wasn’t.

Tall. Muscular. Charismatic. A man’s man. He carried himself with confidence, the kind that made people listen when he talked. He didn’t stutter. He didn’t overthink. He owned every room he walked into.

And Elliot…

God, Elliot wished he could be like that.

As the final scene played, he muttered under his breath, "I’d give anything to be him."

The moment the words left his mouth, his laptop screen glitched. The audio distorted into a deep, warping sound. The lights in his room flickered. His stomach twisted like he was on a roller coaster—his head spun, his skin burned, and before he could scream—

Darkness.

Elliot woke up somewhere else.

His first thought? His body felt weird.

Bigger. Stronger. Heavier.

He blinked, adjusting to the light, and realized he wasn’t in his cluttered bedroom anymore. This was a sleek, college dorm room. The sheets were expensive. A faint smell of cologne and sweat lingered in the air.

Something felt off.

He sat up—and immediately noticed his arms.

Thick. Veiny. Powerful.

His chest? Hard muscle.

His stomach? Sculpted abs.

He shot out of bed, his movements effortless, natural, as if his body knew exactly what it was doing. He turned to the mirror on the wall, and when he saw his reflection—

He froze.

Gone was Elliot Chambers, the skinny, nervous high schooler.

Staring back at him was Ethan Landry.

Chiseled jawline. Piercing blue eyes. Broad, commanding shoulders. His once scrawny frame had been replaced with pure masculinity. His thick, wavy brown hair was perfectly styled.

His lips curled into a smirk.

Wait—why did I do that?

His heart pounded. His hands gripped the edge of the dresser as a wave of thoughts flooded his mind.

His old memories—the ones of Elliot—began to fade. His liberal ideals? Slipping away. His insecurities? Erased. His attraction to men? Warping. Changing.

Instead, new thoughts took their place.

Memories of hitting the gym, feeling his muscles burn as he lifted heavier and heavier weights.

Memories of locker room banter, laughing with his boys about girls they’d hooked up with.

Memories of dominating debates, not with nervous, overthought arguments—but with pure confidence, shutting people down with facts, logic, and sheer presence.

His lips curled again—this time, it felt right.

Liberalism? A joke.

Feminism? Annoying.

Being gay? A phase.

No—he was straight now. Powerful. Unstoppable.

And most importantly… he was a man.

His phone buzzed. Without thinking, he grabbed it, his large, veiny hands dwarfing the device. A text popped up from:

Jessica ❤️

Jessica? His brain rewired instantly. His girl. His property.

Later that night, Ethan strolled into the frat party like he owned the place.

Jessica was on his arm—a gorgeous blonde in a tight dress, her curves displayed perfectly. She clung to him, giggling, tossing her hair, worshiping his every move.

"Like, babe," she whined, "you totally ignored me for, like, two whole hours today."

Ethan smirked, gripping her waist. "You’ll survive, babe. I got business to handle."

Her pout disappeared as she melted into his touch. "Ugh, fine, but you owe me, kay?"

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, barely paying attention.

He wasn’t here for her. He was here for the boys.

Spotting his best friend, Chad Meeks-Martin, Ethan broke into a grin.

"Bro," Chad called, clapping him on the back.

"Bro," Ethan responded, handing Chad a beer.

They leaned against the wall, watching girls grind on the dance floor.

"Man," Chad muttered, shaking his head, "these chicks pretend to be all independent, but get a few drinks in them and they’re begging for attention."

Ethan laughed. "Right? It’s embarrassing. That’s why I don’t take ‘em seriously, bro. They say they want ‘respect,’ but then they chase after guys like us—not some soft-ass ‘male feminist’ loser."

Chad snorted. "Facts. These woke dudes think being ‘sensitive’ is attractive. Meanwhile, we’re out here running shit."

Ethan smirked, taking a swig of beer. "Exactly. We provide, we protect, and they submit. That’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it always will be."

Chad raised his bottle. "To real men."

Ethan clinked bottles with him, smirk widening.

Elliot Chambers was dead.

And Ethan Landry was here to stay.

[clockwayswrites]

I totally didn't write this with a fever.

wc: 815, Masterpost, Shopping Montage

“What do you think, parrots and way too many leaves or palm trees and waves?” Danny said, holding the two horrifically patterned Hawaiian shirts up in front of him.

They were standing in one of Crime Alley’s better thrift stores. While Danny had agreed to let Jason buy him some clothing, he had insisted it be at thrift stores. He wasn’t ‘going to let Jason spend that much money on clothing’, he claimed.

Jason figured that meant that Danny hadn’t clocked who he was yet.

Danny waggled the offensive shirts again.

“Tuesday…”

“Ah, I see, clearly it is option number three then,” Danny said somberly before dramatically pulling out a third shirt behind the other two and, “unicorns, rainbows, and hibiscus!”

It was eye searingly bright— like a pack of highlighters had thrown up on it— and clearly whoever had designed it had never seen an ungulate, rainbow, or hibiscus flower in their lives.

“No. No, you are not getting that because I am buying it for my fashion disaster of a brother. He’ll love it.”

“Really?” Danny asked, nose wrinkling adorably as he looked down at the shirt in his hand.

“Trust me, if you knew him, you wouldn’t be doubting it.” Besides, it stopped Danny from getting it even as a joke.

“Huh. Sounds like some brother.”

“That’s an understatement,” Jason said, taking the unicorn shirt and hanging the other two up. “Why don’t we start with pants. Three pairs at least.”

Danny scrambled after Jason. “Three pairs? That means I’d have four if the blood comes out.”

“It will come out.”

“Then that’s four! And that’s way too many.”

“One pair for every two days and a back up pair if you don’t get laundry done or lose another pair to a rogue attack,” Jason explained, finding the jean section. “What size are you and what type do you like. Baggy, boot cut, skinny?”

Danny stared down at the tables of jeans, looking more than a little lost. “Um, blue? Blue is good?”

“Disaster, Tuesday,” Jason said. He sized Danny up before picking out a half dozen jeans and shoving them at the other. “Try these on.”

“Jason, I really don’t—”

“Tuesday, I’m getting you three pairs of jeans. You might as well at least make sure they’re comfortable. Go try on the pants. If these don’t work, we’ve got others to try.”

“I, um, okay,” Danny said with a little nod and disappeared into the fitting booth.

As Jason grabbed another few pairs of pants, he had to wonder when the last time that Danny actually went shopping was from how he was reacting. Having to try on the jeans to make sure they fit was pretty basic. Hoping to make sure Danny really had enough clothing, Jason grabbed a few shirts to add to the pile. Mostly he stuck with basics, but he tossed in a few shirts that seemed nerdy in a way that an engineer might like. He pushed the pile under the edge of the fitting room curtain with his foot.

“What— I don’t—”

“Just be good and try on the shirts,” Jason ordered, as gently as he could, then he leaned against the wall opposite of the little line of changing booths to wait.

The sound of the curtain pulling open had Jason looking up from his phone. Danny stood just inside the booth, tugging down at the hem of the dark red henley where it set over the navy skinny cut jeans.

Danny shifted on socked feet. (Jason made note of the holes in the toes.) “I don’t know if…”

“Gives me a spin, Tuesday,” Jason said, tucking his phone in his pocket. “You act like you’ve never gone clothes shopping before.”

“Been a good few years,” Danny drawled, but spun as he was told. The pants did surprising favors for Danny’s ass for being thrift store pants.

“Never had that sudden growth spurt?” Jason teased.

Danny huffed. “I’m a short king.”

“Well, your Majesty, put both those in the yes pile and go try on some more.” Jason shooed Danny back into the booth with a wave. “When you’re done, we’ll grab you a pack of socks and boxers from the Dollar Tree next door— no arguing— and then I’ll show you the best diner in Crime Alley.”

“Am I going to have to let you pay there too?”

“Yep, so be a good figure head of a dated governmental system and hush.”

“Or it will be the guillotine for me?” The question was muffled as Danny changed.

“You’re too pretty to lose your head,” Jason said. “It would be the dungeons with you.”

Danny cleared his throat after a pause. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jason said with a chuckle and a determination to ignore that mental picture. “Now come on, show me the next outfit.”

-----

AN: And Dick wore that unicorn shirt far, far too often.

Hopefully it's coherent despite me being sick. The start of this came to me as I was trying to sleep with a 102ish fever so who am I to deny it?

Stay delightful (and hydrated) darlings!

I no longer tag for various reasons, but you can subscribe to be notified at the masterpost. (Queued this post so I'll update the masterpost when I wake)

[hyperobsessedd]

Joost Klein x Reader hcs

Joost x gn!reader

Summary: just a lot of very fluffy and general hcs about dating joost

This is my first real post on the account so I’m lowkey scared but here we go

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

You and joost first met at a coffee shop

It was late at night when he walked in, you were alone working on something and he had came to edit a music video

You were in a cozy little corner that had a couple pillows and he sat next to you and started talking to you

You guys talked for hours before realizing that it was ten minutes before closing

He offered to walk you home and continued to chat with you

Before getting to your building you gave him your name and number

It’s been about 9 months since then and he asked you out on month 3

Even though you two have conflicting schedules he always try’s to make time for you

He’s very loving but sometimes that can turn to clingines

He loves to cuddle and just like to touch/be around you

It’s always a struggle trying to get out of bed in the morning because no matter the weather that man will always be hugging you in his sleep

Sometimes in the middle of the night he’ll turn around and bring you with him

Both of you love listening to music even if the genres each of you like are very different

If you guys have time before bed you’ll show each other different songs and artists each of you like

Even if it isn’t your cup of tea you’ll always try to listen and try to find things you like about the song

He isn’t the best cook but he trys

A couple of weeks ago he tried to be romantic and have a date night

He attempted (keyword attemped) to make your favourite pasta but the noodles ended up overdone, the sauce was starting to separate, and the side salad he made had way too much dressing

You got home to the sight of him sweating, covered in sauce, and his glasses halfway down his nose

You tried to be supportive by trying the pasta by itself and the salad (the pasta tasted burnt and wet at the same time and the salad wreaked of Italian dressing)

It’s safe to say he hasn’t even gone near the stove since the incident, instead he eats microwave meals and uses the air fryer if he feeling fancy

He still loves doing things for you whether that be reaching for a plate on the top shelf or buying you everything you touch and glance at

His tall stature comes at both an advantage and a disadvantage

Whenever he wants your attention he’ll take whatever you're doing and either hide with it or raise it above your head until you start paying attention

But if he has to use your car or something adjusting the seat will take forever and be very uncomfortable

One of his favorite activities is bothering you in many ways like poking at you, asking you dumb questions, repeating your name multiple times and saying never mind when you answer him, the list goes on

The only way to get him to stop is just ignoring him, it may take long but the outcome is so worth

“Honey, sweetie, pretty, baby, hello can you hear me?” “Why are you ignoring me? You’re so mean” he says with the cutest pout on his face

He looks at you like a kicked puppy when you start to laugh at his reaction

“This isn’t funny I don’t why you’re laughing”

You shake your head and continue to work

His fashion sense is amazing tbh

Sometimes each of you will dress each other for different events or even just pick random outfits when y’all are bored

Having little fashion shows is always very fun because he’ll do his best strut and model face

Having him walk in some heels you found at a random thrift store I’d always super funny

He tries to do his normal confident walk but the heels make him look like he’s about to break his ankles

Self care nights/day are a normal part of your routine that he occasionally like to join in on

Using sheet masks, lip masks, eye masks, and clay masks and Joost is always very funny

“What are you doing and why does it feel so cold?”

“It’s just a sheet mask don’t worry” you smooth out the little dents in the mask before opening a lip mask, putting it on his pink lips

“Now what’s that” he mumbles

“It’s a lip mask now shut up and let me take care of you”

He also loves taking showers with you

Not even in a sexual manner, just being next to you under the warm water is super comforting

He loves scrubbing your back with whatever your favorite body wash is and vice versa

If you like to bake he will always gobble up whatever you make

If you have a signature dessert trust he will be asking you to make it every so often, especially after he finishes a tour

Same thing goes for cooking but making food for him is much more dangerous

He will eat whatever you put in front of him immediately and gladly ask for seconds

He absolutely loves everything you make and he isn’t picky about anything when it comes to you

After eating he’ll help you with cleaning and drying the dishes

After everything around the house is done you get to bed and joost immediately stops whatever he’s doing

You start to worry about whatever he’s thinking “what, do I have something on my face?”

“No, you just look beautiful is all” he looks at you in awe

Before you pass out he whispers his “I love you”s before continuing to caress the top of your head and your stomach

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Hope you liked it! I’m always open to feedback and suggestions

pic isn’t mine I got it from pinterest

Reblogs and notes are greatly appreciated

[missmoonfrost]

Expectations of a father - a wolfstar microfic

@wolfstarmicrofic - December 21: Fireplace - Words: 393

Neither Remus nor Sirius had been much for Christmas traditions. Sure, Sirius had put some strings of lights around the windows and Remus had taken out the porcelain angel he’d got from his mother, but that had been that. They were never home for the actual Holiday anyway. Christmas day was spent with Hope and Lyall in the cottage and the rest of the week visiting various friends and relatives.

That was until the first Christmas after they adopted Anna, the four-year-old abandoned by her parents after being bitten by a werewolf.

Remus surprised Sirius by coming home with a big box of baubles and garlands from the thrift store. Sirius surprised Remus by proudly displaying a gingerbread house (much too well made to really have been put together by the excited little girl he claimed made it).

They agreed to make a day out of getting a tree, brought sandwiches and hot chocolate and took their time walking through the forest and picking one out.

The night before Christmas, Sirius sneaked up to fill the stockings hanging by the fireplace only to see a figure standing there in the dark.

“You got her presents too?”

Remus spun around. “Of course, I did! Do you mean you…?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just assumed… You’re not that much for Christmas and you have already gone out of your way to make it special for us with the baking and the tree and all…”

“As have you. I’m so grateful for that. My father never cared much about such things and I guess I just thought…”

Sirius gave Remus an apologetic look. Remus smiled sympathetically.

“My father certainly never bought the presents, he had no idea what was in the packages supposedly from him. Sorry I thought you’d be like that.”

“She deserves better”, Sirius nodded.

Their combined presents did nowhere near fit in the stocking. They couldn’t help to laugh as they stood with one arm around each other watching the beautiful clutter on the mantlepiece.

“Wait a minute”, Sirius exclaimed, “I’ve been wondering why the tree is hardly using any water. Does that mean you are watering it too?”

“Every night”, Remus chuckled. “Who would have known you were such a homely dad?”

“Who would have known I’d be so lucky as to marry the best dad there is for our child?”

[crunchwrapsnoopy]

Second Chances [Touya Todoroki x Reader]

˙⋆✮ That's So True ✮⋆˙

"Looking into big blue eyes. Did it just to hurt me, make me cry Smiling through it all, yeah, that's my life."

even villains deserve a lil redemption

Dabi x F. Reader

𓂃ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ༄˖°𓂃ﾟ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ.

WC: 1398

I'm sat on my thrifted couch by the window as rain softly beats against the glass. I press play on the voicemail for what feels like the millionth time, the words already burned into my memory, but still, I can’t help myself. Maybe this time will be different. Maybe hearing it again will change something.

"Y/N, please come back. What I did was wrong, it’s been months... I can’t lose you. The league misses you, too. Toga won't shut her damn mouth about you. Fuck, I’m so drunk right now... I love you. I know I didn’t say it often, but—"

The sound of Shigaraki’s raspy voice cuts through, sharp and impatient. "What are you yapping about?" he snarls. "We’ve got shit to do, wrap it up."

Dabi’s voice stumbles back in, slurred. "Bye, Y/N. I have to get a new burner soon- I’ll try calling again. Fuck, I know you won’t pick up. You haven’t the last dozen times but I’ll try." The message ends with a quiet beep.

It’s been three months since that call. And by then, I’d already been gone for seven. Seven months since the night I left him—the night I left all of them behind. His betrayal, his lies... it was too much. It’s been almost a year since I stepped away from the league, from the chaos, from the life that almost consumed me and swallowed me whole. A year since I walked out and didn’t look back.

I’m lucky, though. So stupidly lucky. My quiet, lowkey role in the league made slipping away easy, there were no repercussions or police coming after me every time I stepped foot outside. I’ve kept off the radar, built a new life for myself—a quiet life. I work at a flower shop now, which is insanely different than working as a villain for Shigaraki and the League of Villains, and it smells a lot better too. I’ve even gotten myself a little apartment on the edge of town, cozy, with a window that overlooks a quiet street, and roommate, which is actually just a little calico kitty that I named Cupcakes.

I’ve found peace here. Real peace. But the voicemail keeps pulling at me like a thread that came loose on a favorite sweater, both painful circumstances. And no matter how hard I try to ignore it, I know Dabi’s voice will haunt me forever if I don't talk to him at least one more time, and attempt to get better closure than some shitty drunk voicemail.

I text Giran, the broker that supplies the league with everything, including burner phones. Dabi stopped calling recently, so I assumed he lost my number with the last burner, because knowing him, he wouldn't stop calling just to give me space.

Me: Hi Giran! It's Y/N, I know we haven't talked in a while, but I was wondering if you know Dabi's current burner phone #? 😇

He gets back to me almost immediately.

Giran: Y/N!! So good to hear from you, kid, thought you fell off the planet lmao. And yea I can send the number. Giran: ###-###-####

He sends me the number, and I dial it immediately, my hands trembling. After a few rings, Dabi picks up, his voice sounding annoyed. "Who’s this? And how’d you get this number?"

"Hey, uhm... it’s me, Y/N."

"Y/N?" His tone softens, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Didn’t think I’d hear from you tonight. What’s up?"

I hesitate for a moment before speaking. "I just wanted to talk... are you busy?" I can hear a lot of voices in the background—probably everyone from the League. "If you’re tied up, it’s fine. It’s nothing important."

"Never too busy for you, doll." His voice shifts, and I hear him step away from the noise, the background chatter fading as he walks off.

The noise in the background slowly fades as he steps away, and I imagine him walking down a hallway, his boots hitting the floor with a slow, deliberate rhythm. The sounds of his breathing and the soft hum of his movements are the only things I can hear now. It’s strange, this feeling of distance and closeness at the same time.

“Alright, I’m all yours,” Dabi says, his voice rough but clear now, like he’s giving me his full attention. “What’s on your mind, Y/N?”

I swallow hard, staring at the rain outside, the droplets running down the glass, blurring everything in sight. My heart races in my chest, a million thoughts running through my head, none of them making sense. “I don’t know,” I admit, running a hand through my h/c hair. “I guess... I just needed to hear your voice.”

“Yeah, I figured that.” He lets out a soft chuckle, though it sounds a little strained. “You’ve been gone for a while. Thought you were never gonna reach out.”

“I didn’t think I would either,” I reply quietly. “But... I keep listening to that last voicemail you left. Over and over again. I just... I couldn’t stop myself.”

There’s another long pause, and I can almost hear the shift in his posture. Maybe he’s rubbing his face, or clenching his jaw. I wouldn’t be surprised. Dabi’s never been one for easy emotions. “Shit,” he mutters, sounding like he’s been through too much to deal with this. “I shouldn’t have left that message. I meant what I said but I wish I said it better, I wasn’t thinking straight.”

"It's okay. I liked it." I say softly.

"Really?" He asks, his voice almost in disbelief at me admitting that I enjoy his shitty drunk voicemail despite everything. 

“Yeah,” I answer quietly, feeling the weight of the words settle between us. “It wasn't like you at all- guess the liquid courage helped a lil, huh?" I laugh dryly, "It was real sweet its own way. I could tell you meant it, even if you were drunk n didn’t know how to say it.”

Dabi’s silence on the other end feels heavier now. I can almost picture him—frowning, leaning against a wall, trying to collect himself. "Fuck," he mutters after a moment, voice low. "I never thought I'd hear you say something like that. But... I'm glad you did."

“I’ve been avoiding it,” I admit, my fingers tightening around my phone. "Avoiding you, avoiding everything. But I can’t keep running forever."

Dabi lets out a long exhale, like a weight’s been lifted from his chest. "I get it. I know you had your reasons for leaving, and I don’t blame you for it. I fucked up." His voice drops a little. "But if I’m being honest... I’ve missed you, Y/N. More than I ever thought I would."

My heart skips a beat. It’s strange to hear him speak so plainly, without the usual sharpness in his voice. "I’ve missed you too," I whisper before I can stop myself. The confession catches me off guard, and I quickly add, "But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to just jump back into everything. Things are... complicated."

"I know," Dabi replies, quieter now, as if he’s absorbing my words. "I’m not asking you to. I’m just... saying that I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. If you want me to prove it, I’ll prove it."

There’s something in his voice now that feels different, a promise without needing the words. A subtle shift in how he speaks to me, less like the cocky villain and more like a person who’s afraid of losing something he doesn’t deserve.

I stare out the window at the rain, a tightness in my chest as I let the quiet wash over me. I know I can’t go back to the way things were, but maybe—just maybe—I can start a new chapter with him, one where we’re both trying, even if we don’t have all the answers.

“I don’t know how I feel yet,” I say finally, voice soft but steady. “But... maybe we can try again. Slowly.”

Dabi’s voice is quieter now, but there's an undeniable relief in it. "That’s all I need. A chance. We can take it slow."

I lean back against the couch, closing my eyes as I listen to the steady rain and his steady breathing on the other end of the line. For the first time in a long while, the knot in my chest begins to loosen. There’s no going back to what we were before, but maybe there’s still a chance for something else.

"Alright," I whisper, a faint smile tugging at my lips despite myself. "Let’s see where this goes."

𓂃ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ༄˖°𓂃ﾟ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ.

[morganski-19]

The One with the Stolen Clothes

 Eddie walks into Steve and Robin’s apartment to bother them, because he’s bored, and Robin dramatically gasps. Then throws a ball of paper at Steve when he walks out of his bedroom.

“What the fuck was that for?” he asks, thoroughly confused.

Robin gestures over to Eddie with wide eyes. Steve raises an eyebrow, still confused. Eddie just looked between the two of them, trying to decipher what they are silently communicating. Robin rolls her eyes.

“Eddie, where did you get that shirt?”

Eddie glances down at his shirt, having just pulled it out of the laundry basket before walking over here. “The laundry basket on the couch. Why?”

“No, like what place?”

He shrugs. “Thrift store probably, I don’t listen to this bad, but the logo’s cool.”

Robin dramatically stands up. “I knew it. That’s my shirt.”

Eddie makes a confused face. “How would your shirt end up in my apartment?”

Steve’s eyes widen. “I think I know. Remember when you stayed over here a few nights ago, and you borrowed some of my clothes. You said that you would wash them and then return them, but never did. I’m pretty sure that was the shirt you borrowed.”

“Huh, guess so. Sorry Buck, I’ll have to wash it again before giving it back to you.”

“Yeah fine, whatever,” Robin groans.

Steve snaps, like he just made a big realization. “That’s why you threw the paper at me.”

“It always come back to you stealing shit out of my closet.”

“Not my fault you like to wear baggy shirts.”

“You still wear it even if it’s not baggy,” Robin raises her voice. “Half my closet is stuff that you stretched out.”

Steve huffs. “That is so not true. And you steal my shit all the time, it’s like our thing.”

“Not when you lend someone else my clothes,” she points to Eddie, bringing him back into this conversation. “And I don’t care if it’s not washed, I’d like it back.”

Eddie shrugs. “I’ll go change then.”

He leaves the apartment and returns to his own. Nancy giving him an odd look when he walks through the door.

“Is that you’re shirt?” Nancy asks, sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop.

“Apparently not. It’s Robin’s.” Eddie goes to his room to change, double checking that this shirt is actually his.

“How’d you end up with Robin’s shirt?” Nancy asks, turning her head to the hall when a loud scream is heard from the other apartment.

Eddie matches her expression, thinking it’s probably not a good idea to go over there again. “Steve accidentally lent it to me. Apparently, he steals her clothes a lot.”

Nancy hums. “Yeah, it’s been a problem for years. But she does it to. When I roomed with her in college, she would steal my sweatshirts all the time.”

“I’m still surprised you guys didn’t date back then. You practically were from the sound of it.” There’s another scream from the across the hall. “Should we intervene?”

“Nah, they’ll be fine. We probably would have dated in college if I knew I was bi back then. But I didn’t, so we sort of missed it.”

Eddie faces Nancy. “And now?”

“Now,” Nancy says, still facing the door. “Whatever we might have had back then is gone. Robin and I are just friends. All we’ll ever be.”

“Are you saying that because you believe it, or because you think Robin doesn’t like you back.”

“Because I believe it. What we have,” Nancy takes a deep breath. “I’d rather be her friend forever than risk losing her to some shitty breakup. I almost lost Steve when we broke up in college, and then Jonthan when we broke up two years ago. I got lucky twice, I’m not risking being lucky again.”

Eddie sits down next to Nancy at the table. “But are you really going to stop yourself from trying. Maybe this time, you won’t have to be lucky. Everything could work out.”

“Are you still holding yourself back after your dick head of an ex-boyfriend broke up on you?” Nancy asks already knowing the answer.

“Got me there. When did life get so complicated?”

Nancy huffs. “Life was so much easier when we were in high school. The biggest thing we had to worry about were classes and shitty after school jobs. Not this.”

“Remember that hiding spot we found in the library?”

“Yeah,” Nancy smiles. “Right behind the non-fiction isle by the teachers lounge. Everything felt better there.”

“Do you ever wish you could go back in time, just for life to feel simpler again? Or to change something in hopes it would make your future better.”

“Sometimes. I think if I did, the one thing I would change is us falling out of touch. Everything else, I think was just fine enough.”

Eddie plays with his rings. “I’m sorry that I stopped reaching out when you went off to school. Just felt like you didn’t need me anymore, with all your new college friends and classes and shit. You didn’t need me dragging you back to that town. You were so much better than them.”

“I’m sorry I let you. Wasn’t just you’re doing. I wanted to separate as much from home as possible, you just happened to be in the crossfire.”

Robin bursts through the apartment door, finding Eddie with a glare. “My shirt,” she demands.

“Right, here,” he tosses her the shirt and she leaves. “We really need to start locking that door.”

Nancy winces. “Yeah. Why’d Steve lend you the shirt anyway?”

“Not the reason you think. We were too high and tired to stand up fully, so he just let me stay over.”

“Damn, thought you two were done being stupid.”

Eddie laughs. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen until you and Robin stop being stupid.”

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low, @thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady, @apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic, @fearieshadow, @mentallyundone, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging, @potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug

[foliosriot]

THE ROTTEN AND UGLY

noah sebastian x reader

SUMMARY!!

you break up with noah without thinking about the consequences for either of you.

WARNINGS!!

language. description of a panic attack. self-worth issues. mental health problems (depression, anxiety).

AUTHOR’S NOTE!!

anyways this got angstier than i’d originally anticipated so uh enjoy the pain i’m about to serve you on a damaged and thrifted zoopals plate

masterlist

You hate how much he’s gotten under your skin over the years. The way he’s taken a variety of sharp objects and ruthlessly carved his name into your bones. In the intricacies of your veins there are markings that are nearly identical to his tattoos. You swear your hips and waist are permanently speckled with dark smudges, a repeating pattern that looks suspiciously like his fingerprints.

You’re still picking out pieces of him from yourself.

And yet, you were the one to end it. You were the one that told Noah you “can’t do this anymore”, whatever the hell that means. He asked as much, but you didn’t seem capable in giving him a straight answer. So you left the house battling against your instincts to run back to him.

But you were able to fight against them as you let yourself out the front door, leaving behind someone that has been a rock in your life for as long as you can remember. You left Noah standing in the living room, alone and confused. You fucking abandoned your self-proclaimed soulmate.

That was nearly a month ago.

After you left the boys’ house that day, you somehow convinced yourself that you were no longer hopelessly in love with Noah. You gaslit your own brain into believing your relationship — both platonic and romantic — was built on the fact that you were never good enough, that Noah took pity on you from the get-go.

It seemed to work. At first, that is. Because, before you altered your brain, you allowed yourself to wallow in your guilt and anxieties. For three consecutive days you bawled into your pillows, grimacing and crying even harder when the smell of Noah’s cologne met your nostrils. You were throwing yourself quite the pity party, and it was torturous.

But you were the one who was convinced that you never deserved Noah in the first place. You ended it, not him.

When those three days were up and gone, you managed to pull yourself together long enough to allow your best friend, Violet, to take you out for a girls’ night. It was something you needed — it was something that could distract you from your own head.

And the fact that it had worked was surprising. Maybe it worked too well.

At one of the handful of bars Violet had dragged you to you met Ryan. He was tall, lithe build and long limbs. His blackened hair was shorter on the sides, allowing the top to grow longer, thus falling into the beautiful hazel of his eyes. He had snow white skin but his flesh was divided up by swathes of colored ink that had nearly glowed under the neon lights. He’d donned an old Bullet For My Valentine t-shirt and black cargo pants.

Something about him had felt familiar to you. But you weren’t allowed anymore pondering over that inclination as Ryan had dragged you onto the dance floor.

It wouldn’t occur to you until a week later when you and Ryan were on your first official date. If it weren’t for the gauged ears, the round, rimless glasses, or the chunky gold rings, you would have thought he was somebody else. It was almost uncanny.

God, but you could have sworn…

You were wrong, however.

Ryan seemed to really like you, though. He had an eye for finer details and was a real sweetheart. He was obviously taking things slow with you, especially after you had accidentally dumped the story of what happened with Noah onto him over one too many shots of tequila. His genuine concern and sympathy over the entire ordeal had you fawning over him tenfold.

You and Ryan went on more dates since that night. Around him you were pushing down your self pity and replacing it with something you could have mistaken for happiness; you felt content around Ryan.

Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever.

It was nearing dusk when your apartment’s doorbell chimed. The sound startled you for a moment, but you relaxed as you headed for the door.

But there was Ryan, that smile of his you had anticipated on his face. You swallow down the chunk of disappointment.

“Hey,” you greeted him. You stepped aside to let him inside before gently clicking the door shut. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, sorry! I was gonna text you that I was coming over, but I thought I’d make it a surprise,” Ryan replies with a shrug.

You force a smile, hoping it came off, at least, partially genuine. “Oh, okay. Well, do you wanna watch a movie or something, then?” you asked.

“Sure.”

The two of you walk in to the living room in search of something to watch, be it a movie or a random episode of a TV show. You sit fairly close to each other on the small couch, a minimal amount of space between both your legs.

As you continue your hunt for your entertainment for the night, your anxiety begins to gradually rise. Your heart is thumping wildly and the palms of your hands are growing clammy and there’s a dull throbbing pain behind your left eye. Why is this happening? What the fuck is going on?

You don’t realize when you begin drawing in breaths in quicker succession, until your chest is seizing and you’re hyperventilating. The sound of Ryan’s concerned voice is muted from inside your skull, making you feel as if you were underwater. Tears are spilling down your face but you can’t find the strength to wipe them away.

Then you feel the vibrations of Ryan frantically speaking to you floating around your brain, and you’re not quite sure what he asked, but you manage to choke out one word.

Noah.

Everything became darker and blurrier after that. Time didn’t existence nor did anything around you. Your head was swimming and you couldn’t figure out where you were — if you were at home, if you were at work, with Noah.

Noah.

You think you hear the front door opening and slamming shut all of a sudden. But you aren’t quite sure anymore. This is the most violent panic attack you’ve ever had.

You jolt when there’s an unexpected hand carefully grasping yours. It must be Ryan.

His skin is frigid compared to the heat radiating from you. He begins gently running his thumb over your knuckles, a gesture that feels vaguely familiar.

The thing that finally brings you back to the present is the soft voice in your ear. At least you think it’s soft and gentle. Everything still sounds warbled, but there’s a distinct difference to this voice. You latch onto it and begin pulling yourself towards it in hopes of relinquishing the hold this panic attack has on you.

Darkness begins slinking away to reveal your living room. Your vision is blurry when you come to, but you blink away the tears that cling to your eyelashes, the action almost painful. You take a few moments to carefully and slowly gulp down several lungfuls of air before you turn to the body beside you.

But you aren’t met with the worried glaze in Ryan’s hazel eyes. Instead you see Noah next to you, his head angled down in your direction as he quietly sings.

Oh.

That’s how you were able to get through your panic attack. The only thing that has ever had that kind of power is Noah singing and holding your hand. He did it to let you know he was there the entire time, to provide something to keep you grounded to reality.

“Noah…”

Your voice comes out as a broken whisper. Noah immediately stops singing. His head shoots up. There is a frantic glint in his dark eyes as he searches your face for a moment before locking his gaze with yours.

“Baby, what happened?” he asks, one of his hands moving to your face. His palm is cool against your cheek, and you nearly shudder at the sensation of his calloused thumb gently stroking your cheekbone.

“Wh-What are you doing here?” you counter. You’re trying to ignore the fluttering sensation in your heart when he called you baby. But it is much too difficult, especially when he’s looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. Like you were worth looking at and cherishing. Your stomach churns mildly.

A muscle feathers under his skin when Noah clenches his jaw. He continues staring at you, save for the single glance he shoots up and to the left.

You hesitantly look over your shoulder, and there, standing just behind the couch with his hands clenching the cushions, is Ryan. The look on his face is tight but unreadable. You feel Noah’s hand lightly glide down until it rests against the side of your neck. Ryan’s eyes track the movement.

“What happened?” You ask Ryan the same question, hoping he gives you an answer. You’re trying to ignore the placement of Noah’s hand, but it is proving to be nowhere near easy.

It takes Ryan a few prolonged seconds to say anything. But when he does finally speak, he says, “We were trying to find a movie to watch, but then you tensed and started shaking. I tried talking to you and to get you to stop crying and hyperventilating. You weren’t responding and I was getting really fucking worried.”

Ryan pauses. He visibly swallows, then shifts his hazel gaze from the hand against your throat to your face. A flinch ripples through your body at the emotionless light in his eyes.

“You managed to say one word,” he continues. His tone is devoid of feeling, almost like he was trying not to show any emotion at all. “Noah. And I automatically knew who you were talking about. So, because I was desperate as shit, I got your phone unlocked and found his contact you kept for some reason. I called him and, well, here he is.”

Ryan looks down at the floor beneath him. Your heart is speeding up once more, and Noah seems to have noticed because he presses his index finger into the pulse point beneath the hinge of your jaw. The pressure is ginger at best, but it somehow manages to keep you from going in to hysterics once more.

You look back at Noah to see him already watching you closely. Your breath hitches slightly when you notice the familiar loving shine in his irises. God, you have missed him so much.

Noah has one knee bent and resting on the couch, with the other dangling over the edge. Over the course of the attack you had crumpled into a ball — a familiar aspect of these things for you — and Noah had managed to peel away your arms from where they had wrapped around your legs like a vise. He had entered your personal bubble in hopes of helping you. One hand of his hands still held yours with a secure grip.

You felt an overwhelming need to wrap Noah up in a thankful, loving hug. But you still felt Ryan’s presence.

Mulling over your decision in your head kept the room silent. It took longer than you would have wanted, but you knew it was a necessary one to make in the first place.

“Ryan.” You shift just enough to face Ryan more directly. He lifts his head as you force your arm to move. You slowly reach for one of his hands, gathering the strength to talk. “Thank you for being here. It means so much to me.”

Ryan doesn’t say anything initially. First, he rakes his gaze over to Noah, a glare overcoming him.

“I didn’t do anything, Y/N,” he bites out. “All I did was call the ex.”

You feel Noah tense, but he doesn’t speak.

“I’m gonna leave now,” Ryan says, finally stepping away from the couch. “I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N.”

As Ryan heads for the door, you call out, “I’ll call you.”

With his hand already on the doorknob, Ryan stops to look at you. His gaze softens as you make eye contact.

“No. Don’t worry about it,” he tells you. His words are quiet and tinged with a tense of sadness. He gives you a small smile. “This was really nice. I’ll see you around.”

Then Ryan is gone.

And you’re alone with Noah.

Silence sits over you like a weighted blanket. Sitting in the dead quiet with Noah has always been relaxing and comfortable, because there would be times you would lay your head down on his chest and listen to his steady heartbeat. At times like those neither of you had any responsibilities or stresses. You simply existed together in your own little world.

But there is an underlying tension this time around. You’re still angled towards the front door and you can feel Noah watching you. His pinky brushes your collarbone, and it takes all of your remaining strength to suppress a shiver.

Then Noah’s hand slips from your neck, and you can’t help but miss the sudden vacancy.

“Y/N. Can we talk about this?”

Noah’s voice is quiet. His soft tone is tainted with something akin to anger, but you can’t be sure. Maybe it’s sadness or confusion. Either way, you turn your head towards him.

Strands of his dark hair are dangling in front of his face. There’s an unidentifiable glint in his eyes that has your heart stuttering. You suddenly have a desire to reach forward and touch the tattoos on his hands and neck, everything else covered in black clothing. And you think you’re successful at resisting that feeling, when you’ve slowly counted to ten in your head. But you can never rein yourself in very well when it comes to Noah.

You turn to fully face him. He watches your every move with a confused air about him. His body stills completely when you finally stretch your arm out, your fingertips brushing the red apple at his throat. You swear he shivers slightly when your fingernails graze his inked skin.

Noah lets you touch his tattoos without a word or twitch of a muscle. With every movement you make he watches you like a hawk, like he’s going to tear you limb from limb at any moment. You have done this countless times over the years, but something about this time feels different.

This goes on for only a few short minutes. Until Noah grasps your wrists and gently pushes your arms away from him. He keeps his hold on you.

“Y/N.”

Your throat constricts slightly in apparent preparation to cry once more. But you swallow thickly as you manage to meet his eye.

“Noah.”

He tightens his jaw. He lowers his eyebrows slightly as he considers you and your slightly patronizing reply of his name.

“We’re gonna talk about this,” he tells you. “Right now. Whether you like it or not. We need to talk.”

And he’s right, you know he is. Though you don’t know how this is going to go.

You shakily take a deep breath anyways. You nod once, gesturing as best as you can despite your momentary shackles for Noah to speak.

“Why? Why did you break up with me?” Oh god, you’re hoping he didn’t feel your pulse spike at his question. “I mean, you gave me a reason, but we both know it was kinda bullshit. You didn’t tell me the truth. So can you tell me the truth now?”

Fuck. You can’t do this.

I’m sorry, Noah. But I can’t do this anymore.

There’s a pulsing behind your eye. Your head is pounding and your cheeks are tear-stained. And you would be an even bigger liar if you restated what you said that night. ‘Cause by the fucking gods above, you were all in from the beginning. You knew you were in love with Noah a long time before you actually started dating. You have been by his side through the worst years of his life, and he has been there for yours.

You have missed him more than anything this past month. Even while hanging out with Ryan something felt off. Your brain was too hung up on Noah to even fathom forgetting him or replacing him.

So what’s the point of hiding anything else from Noah, since he has seen and witnessed every dark and ugly and rotten thing you hold inside? He saw all the bad and evil that reside deep, deep down and still chose to stay.

But you have been broken for a long time, even considering how much Noah has helped you. There is something damaged beyond repair within. You’re not sure if it’s worth keeping anyone around anymore in order to try and fix it. It seems pointless, really.

Noah is still watching you. His hands are firm around your wrists as he waits for your answer.

“I’ve never been good enough for you,” you finally say, and it feels like a weight is lifted from your chest. “You how damaged I am. You have seen all of the shit that keeps me up at night and you’ve experienced firsthand how violent my panic attacks are. Why the fuck did you stay? You’re Noah fucking Sebastian. Lead singer of a successful metal-core band, who could have anyone he wants. And you chose me? I guess I just don’t see why.

“I’m not worth the hassle or worry. Everyone wastes their time with me. I’m not getting better — I can’t get better! So I removed the variable that was the issue. I removed the problem so you wouldn’t have to. I willingly took the swan dive, ‘cause sooner or later I was gonna self-destruct. I’m a fucking time-bomb, and you know it.”

Throughout your explanation Noah stared at you. He had made no attempts to interject or talk down on your feelings. He listened intently, and your heart aches.

But you can’t take the staring any longer. You wrench your hands away from Noah and stand from the couch. You wobble on your feet for a moment before you regain your balance, shuffling to the other side of the living room.

You turn to look at Noah to see him slumped against the back couch cushions. His arms are crossed over his chest and his eyes are still tracking you. Both feet are planted on the carpet.

“Would you stop looking at me like that?” you demand. “Like—Like I’m being irrational. Or, like—“

“Like I actually care about you?”

You fall silent at Noah’s interruption. His face is nearly expressionless, but you detect the minuscule frown on his lips.

“I’m not gonna stop caring about you, Y/N,” Noah continues, his voice low. You think he may be angry. “It’s not something I’m interested in doing. Because, yeah, I’ve seen all of the fucked up shit inside of you, but you’ve also seen it from me. You chose to stay too, right? So why would I want someone who doesn’t harbor a little bit of pain or agony? That makes you human, and that makes you you. ‘Cause believe me when I say that I am in love with you. Baggage and everything. But I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Tears had begun falling from your eyes again. Your lips trembled slightly at Noah’s declaration. Your body was shaking.

You watch as Noah gets to his feet. You can’t help but fold your arms around your torso as he slowly approaches you. The blood pumping through your veins and roaring in your ears is deafening.

“I can’t promise I won’t hurt you.”

Noah pauses a few paces away at your words. He meets your eye for just a moment before you’re locking your gaze onto the floor.

“Okay. Then don’t promise. I don’t care if you hurt me, ‘cause I’m gonna stay either way.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“What if…” You sniffle as you tighten your hold on yourself. “What if I don’t want you to stay?”

“That’s not happening.”

“Noah, I—“

Noah takes the steps forward to reach you. “The only reason you don’t want me to stay is so you can convince yourself everything was your fault,” he told you. His voice is still low in pitch and peppered with a certain hardness. “I’m not gonna let that happen. None of this is your fault.”

Your instincts are screaming at you to fall into Noah. Every inch of your body is berating you to let this all go and let Noah back in. You both need each other, you know that. So why is this so goddamn hard?

His words hang in the air like a heavy fog. Your vision is blurry from tears. Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest. This has to end.

“Get out.”

Noah recoils a fraction at your unexpected statement. “What?”

“I said get out. I made my decision, and you need to respect that.”

“I’m not leaving.”

More tears cascade down your face. Every single one feels like acid eating away at your skin as you raise your head to look Noah in the eye.

“I’m not going to ask you again, Noah.”

Noah doesn’t protest. But you can see the tears in his eyes as he eventually backs away and goes for the front door. You’re shaking uncontrollably as you watch him open the door, chance a glance back at you, then leave. He gently shuts it behind him.

A void opens up in your chest. It yawns wide, a blackened abyss growing bigger and bigger inside of you, threatening to consume your soul.

God, what the fuck have you done? You are so in love with him, and you just let him leave like that. You can’t even begin to believe that you’re this fucking stupid.

But Noah left because he loves you. And that makes the tears fall harder and faster.

You can’t imagine a life where he isn’t there. Frankly, you don’t want to imagine such a life. In every past, present and future you have ever conjured up in your head, Noah has always been there. And you just ruined any chance of fulfilling a better future for both of you.

This can’t happen.

You’re not going to let this happen.

Without thinking you dash for the door and fling it open. At the other end of the fairly short hallway, near the elevator, is Noah. His head is hung and he’s holding his phone. You can’t see his face clearly, but there’s a foreign rigidness to his body that you wish you never have to see again.

“Noah!”

And at first Noah doesn’t react. Then he’s twisting his neck to look your way. The sight of you has him straightening his posture and sliding his phone back in to his pocket. You can see the rise and fall of his chest, a certain anxiety about him that hurts your heart.

Then you let out a loud sob, and Noah is racing for you without hesitation. He gathers you in his arms before your body crumples to the floor. You latch your fingers onto the fabric of his shirt as you cry against his shoulder. One of his arms is fastened around your abdomen while the other is along your shoulders, that hand slipping through your locks of hair and carelessly gripping at the roots.

“I’m sorry,” you sob against his body. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. God, I’m so stupid. I am so sorry—“

Noah cuts you off. “No, Y/N, do not apologize,” he tells you, his own voice thick with tears. “You’re not stupid, either. You were trying to do the right thing for you, and that’s okay. Never apologize for that. Okay?”

You manage to nod once. Then he’s carrying you back into your apartment in the direction of your room. He carefully sets you down on your bed and immediately joins you. There’s blankets around you and Noah is holding you tightly.

You bury your face in his neck with your arms coiled around his shoulders. His arms hold you against him, his head resting beside yours on the pillows.

The pillows were beginning to lose the smell of Noah’s cologne. You were worried they would have trapped the scent of Ryan instead over the past couple weeks, but all you feel is Noah. Every sense is overwhelmed by him and his presence. The feeling of his body against yours feels like coming home once and for all.

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

♱ foliosriot 2023

[wroteclassicaly]

Fallin’ For His Darlin’

(Gator Tillman x Female Reader)

Word count: 1,062

Pairings: Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of trauma, wounds, pain, anxiety, and depression, vaginal sex, fluff, hurt/comfort, vaginal fingering, kind of dark!Gator, kind of soft/anxious too, etc.

A/N: So inspired tonight, listened to some mood music, feeling that fall vibe, haha! Hope y’all enjoy? I’m pretty happy with this one! And I can’t wait to see our boy in action 😭 P.S, forgive my shitty graphic making, I’m not good at that!

You’re not sure what time it is. Maybe midnight? You aren’t positive, because when his headlights find your garage door, floating in through your window like his own personal spotlight, his tires skid across the gravel of your lane, his car door heavily thudding closed, his boots crunching heavily over rough ground, signaling him closer… closer — time ceases to matter much. You’re meeting him eagerly over the threshold, his back slammed against the beat up wood, boots falling beside your sneakers on the entryway rug. Nothing can find you here, can harm you here, and what has lifelong permission to touch you, it’s always-only… him.

He smells as good as always. Spicy cologne and cigarettes, powdered sugar from the donuts he’d eaten for dinner (you are always on him to eat more), leftovers from your shared favorite diner — Angelica’s, still pressed into his crisp black t-shirt, as if he’d forgotten a napkin. His hair is usually in its less than pristine condition by the time he arrives at yours in the night hours. Doesn’t matter anyways, not with how you end up carrying on in front of your old fireplace (Gator’s a fan of your new cream rug, intricate floral patterns woven into it, loved by owners before, thrifted, and now yours), or on your couch. You’d never really gone to your bed, learning how those times nearly caused lines to be crossed, one ending with Gator falling asleep on your naked breasts, (the calmest he’s been in years, and you just watching him as the sun came up and cast a glow on his youthful head. he was lost, broken, beaten down).

Sticking to this, here in your living room, it’s safer, saner. But it’s not what you want. However, you’ll have him whichever way he offers. He’s Gator and you’re his sweet darlin’.

~*~

Your legs fall open, one wrapped up in his camouflage pant clad thighs. His fingers press deeper inside of you, thumb circling your curls, smearing the cream around in them, watching how it bubbles. You’re kissing him again, lips so soft on his chest, fingernails scraping through the thick tufts that rest on his chest, occasionally flicking his gold and silver chain overlays. You’d gotten him the gold pendant, something he could wear, a symbol for faith that Gator could attach his own meaning to, not having to wear because it meant what his father wanted it to. But it was safe enough that Roy wouldn’t question its meaning.

Your lips find that patch of skin by his left nipple, sucking it between your lips, before you bite down. Gator throbs in his pants, his spare hand squeezing your neck’s nape. Despite his fascination, he’s still a million miles away. “Why do you let me do this to you?”

It’s a default question, an answer you both know already. Why you let him love you like this, it’s so simple…

“These hands, what I do with them before I come here. I’m bad. And I could hurt you, you know?” He adds a little pressure that travels up your scalp in electric prickles.

You spread yourself wider for him, a third finger stretching you in a welcomed, boundary pushing burn. Your eyes meet the midnight murk that’s woven over his mossy pupils like a blanket to mask, face leaving that cove of his chest. Your finger reaches to rub along his lower lip, his tongue licking out to taste skin.

“You wouldn’t, Gator. You won’t...” Is your answer. As if you believe it more than you believe in any god or higher power.

He’s pushing, as he often does…

“And if I do?”

“Then I’d let you.” It’s plain and simple, your fingers leaving his mouth to wrap around his wrist and correct him to a deeper rhythm. This is not enough tonight. More. Fuck, you want him to swallow you whole, capture you, trap, and hurt you in the ways you welcome — how he can, ever so softly, but painfully blissful, like a fire to your fingertips, flames licking the skin, enough to sting, but never to take away in harm.

He’s fully hard, swollen, and he’s turning towards you, forcing you to him by your nape. Your noses bump into a brushing nudge, his hand leaving your cunt and pressing wet, calloused fingers to your jaw as he brings you into his mouth. He’s so warm, plush, his stubble has a scratching effect. He tastes like sweet sugar and Marlboros. He’s been smoking menthol, you note — what he switches to in the colder seasons.

He’s panting his next declaration over your mouth in a fragile concentration. “Would you let me put it inside of you, darlin’?”

Your thighs tighten together, pussy clicking noisily. You’ve never had penetrative sex with him yet, something so close for two childhood friends. But you’re ready to leap if he is, reaching for his hand on your jaw and squeezing over his knuckles. “What do you think I’ve been waiting for, Gator?”

~*~

Approaching Autumn glides in on the cool September rain of Sunday, leaves and earth filling your room with the harsh scent of two bodies connecting. Your blush curtains blow against the chipped, open window frames. Your nipples have hardened from the cool air, from dragging repeatedly across Gator’s chest hair, his necklaces dipping into your collar bones and the valley of your tits. He’s got your legs held around his waist, your hands pulling in his hair to mess it up, his nose finding yours, foreheads sticking with perspiration. The box of condoms lay abandoned at your bedside, a gamble in you, of which Gator is only ever willing to trust.

Your eyes tighten and close, his size making you feel as if you’ve never been touched or fucked before in your lifetime. Everything aches, everything is too much, all at once.

“Should I stop? You hurtin’?” He’s speaking to you in a way that makes tears gather in your lash line. He brushes them away with a rough thumb, then a trigger finger, almost immediately.

His hands let your legs drop to take your fingers in his own, directing one to his shoulder and the other around his waist. “Hold onto me?”

“I’ll never stop.” And you’re surging in for a kiss.

The rain hasn’t stopped when the sun begins to come up the next morning. And your boy sleeps soundly on your chest, uncaring. And that funny thing called time? Well, it still ceases to exist.

// Eat me paragraph //

[evillama666]

“Weird girl”

“Weird girl”

Travis (Gossip) x reader

Someone said Daryl Dixon would be friends with the ‘weird girl’ so I thought I’d apply that but to Travis

Summary: Travis is friends with the weird girl. There’s not much else to say…

Tags/tw: Obviously weird girl reader (How many times did I just write that…), Chaotic Y/n, threats, brief mention of bullying, art

Word count: 4048

Why can't I look that!

꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…

Travis would definitely be friends with the ‘weird girl’. He’d happily listen to whatever she had to say. He’d sit with her in the grass while she talked to worms, and he drew. Oh, she wants to walk around campus just to look for acorns? He’ll help her find the best ones. She collects rocks? He’s identifying each one for her. She's got a new hyper fixation? Tell him all about it. He’ll listen to Weird Al with her and whatever other music she likes. He’ll even recommend her songs. He’ll help her pick out outfits and if she wants to dress him, he’ll let her. He’ll listen to all her advice. He needs more outfits than just his trenchcoat. He’d also take her thrift shopping to find some funky clothes. He loves doing art with her. Both their styles are weird. He’ll never judge her while she stims. He’ll always encourage it and might even stim with her. He’s quieter than her, but he’s always listening, pretending to understand whatever the fuck she says. He always laughs at her jokes, even if they're not funny. He’d do anything for her, so she feels comfortable with him.

(On to the actual fanfic)

You’re in the busy cafeteria, sitting alone, minding your own business as you draw. But why would anything here be peaceful? Suddenly, a guy and a group of his friends grab your sketchbook. “You fucking art majors know this shit ain’t ever going to get you through life, yet still do it.” He says, flipping through it. You're praying to God, the devil, and crickets that he won't rip anything. “And by the looks of it, no one's gonna buy this crap.” You sigh when he tosses the book back on the table and walks away. That could have gone worse. You smooth out one of the pages that got folded on the impact. Damn it. Travis watched the whole thing. The guys had already left by the time Travis made it over. Not like he knew what the fuck he was going to do to stand up for you, but he wanted to. He sits down across the table from you. His voice is soft and soothing. He knows what it’s like being an outcast.

“You’re not the only one they do that to. They also do it to me.” You look up from your sketchbook. Oh, it’s the boy from some of your art classes. He glances at the crinkled page. “That’s really good. Can I see?” You try to smooth out the page one more time before quietly sliding over to him. He smiles as he looks at it. It has a crease right down the center. “Hey, don’t worry. The crumpled paper gives a story to it. It also fits the theme of this drawing.” He slides the sketchbook back. You mumble quietly, still reeling from what had just happened. “Thanks…”

You look at the drawing with a new perspective. It’s supposed to be an old stained glass, so the crumpled page does kinda fit. You slide the sketchbook back over to him. Maybe he’ll give you more compliments. You sure as hell need it. “You can flip through it. There’s nothing I'm hiding in there.” Travis takes back the sketchbook, tentatively flipping through the pages, spending a few good seconds looking at each one. “These are amazing. I’m Travis, by the way.” Yay! Another compliment! Your voice is soft, feeling shy. “Thanks. I’m Y/n.” He’s still looking through your sketchbook with a smile. “I know how it feels dealing with those guys. I’ve uh… I’ve got it particularly bad…”

“Why?” You ask, sounding like a quiet child. He hands you back the sketchbook, hesitant to speak. “I, uh… Do you know about the Naomi Preston case?” Travis can’t get over how pretty your voice is. “Yeah, I enjoyed reading about it last year as it unfolded.” That makes Travis feel somewhat better about what he’s going to say. “Well… I’m kinda the guy that turned his entire room into a collage. Those guys uh… Kinda think I’m a perv…” Let’s be real here. The real pervs are those guys. A small smile tugs on your lips. “Really? I thought that was so cool.” Finally, Travis found someone who didn't judge him for that.

“You wanna see my sketchbook?” He’s trying to make you feel better. When you nod, he pulls the sketchbook out of his bag and hands it to you. And you were worried about your sketchbook being banged up? His is all messy, won’t close completely, and has pages sticking out. So, being careful, you flip through it. Oh, look, another artist that can’t stick to one style. “This is all so unique. I wish I could do more stuff like you.” Travis laughs. 

“Heh, wait really? I wanted to do more stuff like you. My stuff is usually so messy.” You can’t help but smile. He seems sweet. “That’s what I like about it. I worry too much about keeping it neat and perfect.” Travis already loves talking to you. “I guess we both should take a little inspiration from the other, huh?" You nervously mess with your hair. He finds that so cute. “Then… How about we sit together in class?” Finally! He doesn't have to sit alone in class. “Yea, I’d like that.” The both of you draw together while you eat and chit-chat about art.

The next day, you decided to wear an outfit that stands out to get the attention of those boys that bullied you yesterday. You’re wearing lots of bright colours and patterns. You immediately stand up when they walk over, already talking before they have time to. You’re holding your sketchbook, showing a drawing depicted of the main guy as a mutilated corpse. Your voice is light and cheery. “Look! I drew you being brutally murdered! With real blood!!” The looks on the guys' faces are priceless. Travis drops his food on the table, making his way over when he heard what you said. Oh, shit! He quickly grabs you from behind, spinning your sketchbook around to hide the drawing. He whispers harshly. “You're going to get yourself fucking expelled!” The guys already left, realizing they probably shouldn’t fuck with you or your boyfriend…

You pinch your brows together, giving him an innocent look. “I just wanted them to be afraid to mess with me.” Travis sighs and rubs his hand over his face. There’s so many different things he could be scolding you about. He takes a deep breath, looking at the sketchbook. “Real blood?” He asks. You shake your head, still holding onto that innocent demeanour. “M’no but they don’t know that.” He sighs heavily. He can tell he’s going to have to get you out of a lot of trouble. “How about we eat outside today?” You nod eagerly, packing up your stuff. 

Outside, you're laying on your stomach, humming as you eat. Travis is sitting beside you, drawing. “Do you think worms like to sing?” Travis looks up from his sketchbook, taking a second to reply. “.... Yeah.” You glance at the dirt and mumble to yourself. “I fucking knew it.” Travis laughs under his breath. It might be safe to say you're weirder than him. Which he doesn't mind. He listens as you keep humming, making up your own songs. “Are you humming for the worms?” He asks, genuinely intrigued. 

You pop a french fry in your mouth before stating, like it’s the most obvious thing ever. “Yeah.” He’s just going along with your weirdness. “I think they like it.” You glance around at the grass, then back at him. Anyone else would have called you weird or something along those lines. Not him. He just accepted it. Accepted you. You smile to yourself, feeling giddy. “I wish I knew you in highschool. I didn't have any friends back then.” His heart sinks. He decides to be honest with you. “I didn't either. I think I would have liked you back then.” 

“You definitely would have kept me out of detention.” He breathes out deeply. He can only imagine how exhausting you were in high school. “Did you learn from back then?” You bite your lip as you think. “Umm… Well, you saw me earlier. You decide.” He was hoping you’d say yes, not that. It’s not that he won't bail you out, though. Oh god, he hopes he doesn't literally have to bail you out. “Maybe you should try to stay out of trouble?”

Your voice is breathless. "Somehow, trouble tends to find me, without me even looking for it. And no matter how much I try to avoid it, I always seem to welcome it into my life with open arms." Travis tries to understand whatever the fuck you just said. He looks dumbfounded. “Well, maybe you should close your damn arms." You drop the fry you were playing with on your tray and snort loudly at his response. “Damn ok! I was trying to sound poetic!” Travis feels proud he could make you laugh like that. “Find something else to be poetic about.” You huff in mock annoyance as you eat your food. It’s been like a day, but it's like you two have been close friends for years. You glance over your shoulder at him as he draws. “So… People find you weird too?”

He sighs, keeping his gaze on his paper. “Always have. Especially after that damn collage.” You sit up, wanting to cheer him up. “You know I liked it, right? And you did too, so that’s all that matters.” He glances at you for a moment. It’s not like he didn't enjoy making that giant collage, it’s that he doesn't like the stuff that was involved with it. His voice is quiet, reluctant. “Yeah… Thanks…” He watches you out of the corner of his eye as you sway back and forth. “Y’know. You're very quiet.” 

“Sorry.” He mumbles. Wait, he should have said that louder. Damn it. “No, it’s not a bad thing. I like it.” You reassure him. He thinks for a moment. “Well, even though I'm quiet, I'm still always listening.” You look over at him and sigh. “You don’t mind that I talk so much?” Travis leans back on his hands and shakes his head. “No. Makes up for my quietness.” You smile widely, liking his answer. 

You laugh quietly as you rip up a handful of grass and place it on his leg. His brows furrowed as he looked up from his drawing. “What was that for?” You blink as you try to come up with an answer. “I don’t know…” He nods as he brushes the grass off his leg. “Ok.” You like he accepts all of your weird quirks. He watches as you pick dandelions. He finds your mannerisms cute. Once you're satisfied that you picked enough, you start braiding them. He glances at you before drawing again. The silence between you two is comfortable. 

“Hmm?” He lifts his head when he feels you place something on his head. He reaches up and tentatively touches it. “It’s a flower crown.” You smile. He’s silent for a minute before speaking. “Is it cute?” You nod eagerly. The yellow is a nice contrast to his brown hair. “Very.” He hums in thought. “Mmh… You should make one for yourself so we’re matching.” He’s trying to encourage your unique behaviour. You nod, picking more flowers. 

He loves the sound of your voice, but he also likes the peaceful silence between you. He also loves parallel play, so this is nice while he draws, and you play with flowers. He speaks up while you work on your crown. “I’m going to wear this to class.” You pause to look up at him. “Really? It’s not too girly?” His face scrunches up in confusion. “What? Flowers?” Oh, he’s not one of those guys that thinks like that. Even better. You shrug. “Nothing.”

He smiles when you finish the flower crown and put it on. “Now everyone will know we're friends.” You laugh softly, shaking your head in amusement. “No, now everyone will know we're weirdos that wear flower crowns.” He gives you a slightly confused look. “I don’t think flower crowns are weird.” You pause for a second. You’ve clearly listened to the wrong people. “Oh, ok.” Travis smiles. “Do I look like a princess?” You can’t help but laugh. “Yea, a very pretty princess. Any knight or prince would be lucky to have you.” Travis laughs too, playing along. “You uh… heh, wouldn't happen to be either of those, would you?” You grin mischievously, looking away as you answer. “Maybe…” 

He smirks, nodding. His voice is low and flirty. “Might uh… might need you to rescue me from a dragon sometime…” You smile widely, catching him off guard. “Fuck the dragon.” That’s not an answer he was expecting. His flirty tone vanishes and he blinks once. “I’m sorry, what?” You lean in close, with wide eyes. “Y’know! Fuck the dragon!” Travis looks at you with a dumbfounded look for a minute, then laughs. “You’re so fucking weird!” 

“Says the one fucking dragons!” You laugh along with him. “That would never happen! I can’t get laid!” You lean into his shoulder to support yourself as you laugh. His face deadpans. “Ok, it’s not that funny…” You're snorting, gasping for breaths. “It so is!!!” He’s fighting back a smile. “It’s not.” Finally catching your breath, you sit up. “Sorry, I shou-” You break out into another fit of laughter. Travis is questioning his life decisions. How did he get stuck with you? His voice is flat. “I get it.”

Ok, this time you actually catch your breath. “Whew, man, that’s the best laugh I’ve had in a while.” He’s trying so hard not to laugh. “I get it. My life’s a joke.” You shake your head quickly, trying to rein yourself in. “No, I didn't say that!” He finally breaks. Small stifled giggles leave his lips. Ok, good, he’s laughing. You wrap your arm around his shoulders, patting his shoulder as he holds in his laughs. His cheeks are all flushed and rosy. Adorable.

A few people give you looks as they walk by. You’re both being very loud. You have fully embraced that fact you're weird while… it doesn't look like Travis has. Or at least he’s not as loud about it. He averts his gaze and mumbles. “Maybe we should quiet down…” You do the complete opposite. You sit up straight, flipping off the people, giving you both dirty looks. “Keep lookin’ at him like that and I'll burn your fucking panties!” His eyes widen and he quickly covers your mouth with his hands. “She doesn't mean that!” He yells, but they’ve already walked off. He sighs heavily. “You're going to get expelled, y’know? Or even arrested.”

You shake your head and shrug. “So? I don’t care.” Travis is about to continue, then double takes. “Wait, about being expelled or arrested?” You shrug again. How are you being so casual about this? “Either.” He takes a moment to form his words. “How are you so…-” You interrupt. “Me? I don’t know. Probably trauma.” You make a little scrunched up face. He sighs, glancing back at the area those people were just in. “Could you atleast stop threatening people?”

“Probably not.” You respond casually. Then you see the look on his face, then sigh. “Ok, I'll try.” He sees you're done with your lunch now. He packs his stuff, then stands, lending out a hand. “Wanna walk around campus till class?” You take his hand and stand. “Well, I can't commit crimes in daylight.” He’s about to say something, then decides against it. He’s learned to just go with it. “Whatever you say.”

 You walk beside him, pushing your body into his shoulder, then bouncing off. He’s like twice the size of you. He smirks as he watches you bounce off him a couple more times. “Enjoying yourself?” Your face scrunches up with a smile. “Yeah!” You're like a solid wall.” Feeling a bit confident, for once, he rolls up his sleeve and flexes. “What? This?” Where the actual fuck did that come from!? You're dumbfounded… and now flustered. “You, uh… those new?” He can’t help but laugh. What a weird thing to say. “No, I’ve had arms for a while.” He says, being equally weird. “Sooooo, why don’t you use those to scare off bullies?” 

He blinks once, looking a little confused. He’s so innocent. “Why would I do that?” Is he fucking serious? Is he not aware of how he looks? “Um… Because you're like eighty percent muscle?” He still looks confused. This poor cinnamon roll. “I’m not saying you've gotta punch someone, but if you show them that, people will leave you alone and I won’t have to keep threatening people.” He takes in your words. “I guess…..” You sigh, coming up with something else. “Show those off. You’ll get girls.” His eyes light up. “Wait, really?”

“That got your attention now, didn’t it?” Has it always been that easy? Could he have been doing that this whole time? “Did they get your attention?” He asks curiously. You give him a dumbfounded look. “Fucking obviously, dumbass.” He looks away and thinks. He’s never really shown off his body before. His attention is pulled when you shove into him again. He lightly shoves you back. “Ok, I get it.” He shakes his head in amusement. When you lean into his shoulder again, he pulls you into his chest, giving you a noogie. “No! I don’t wanna brush that!” He laughs, letting you go and you fucking book it. He laughs, chasing after you, ignoring the looks you both get. “Cheater!” He tries to grab you again, chasing you around campus.

He nearly trips over you when you suddenly stop and bend over, grabbing something off the ground. “Look, a rock!” Travis takes a second, catching his breath. “That’s granite.” He says, like it was obvious. You furrow your brows and look at him. “How do you know?” You ask skeptically. He sighs, now catching his breath. “I didn’t have friends as a kid.” You nod as he speaks. “Ah, so you had rocks instead.” You shove the rock into your pocket. “I’m sure I could identify more for you.” 

“I’ve got a bunch of shiny ones back at home.” You say, looking at the ground for anymore. “Are you um… Inviting me over?” You look back up, hearing his shy voice. You shrug like it’s no big deal. “Yea. We could play video games and order pizza.” Travis smiles, liking that idea. He watches you twirling around as you look for more rocks. Then you pick up another. “What’s this one?” Travis takes the rock from you, brushing some dirt off. “Quartzite.” He says, handing it back to you, watching you promptly shove it in your pocket. “You’re my new rock scouting buddy. I just decided.”

Travis doesn't argue. “Ok.” He follows you from behind, looking over your shoulder for any more rocks. You pick up something else and show it to him. “What’s this?” He responds flatly. “That’s an acorn.” You look at the acorn with shock and gasp. “Really!?” He stares at you blankly. How the hell is he supposed to react? “We can um… Look under the trees for more.” He almost loses his footing when you suddenly grab his wrist and pull him with you. Damn, you're strong for a tiny thing. You crouch under a tree and he does the same. “I don’t want any super dirty or broken ones.” He nods, sorting through all the acorns under the tree. He shows you a little handful he collected and you pick out the best ones. 

“Travis, look at this one!” He turns his gaze to you, then you hand it to him. “You can have it. It looks like you.” He looks at it with a bit of confusion. Does he really look like that? “Thanks…” He says softly as he puts the acorn in his pocket. You two quietly sort through acorns for a while. Showing each other different ones and only keeping the best ones. He eventually looks up from all the wonderful acorns to choose from, noticing some people walking back into campus. 

He gently nudges your shoulder. “Hey, I think we should start heading to class now.” You follow his gaze before dropping the acorns you had. “Ok.” He stands up, brushing his hands off before lending you one. You gladly take it, also brushing your hands off. You spin around beside him as you both walk. Now, feeling dizzy, you lean into his side to support yourself. He wraps his arm around your shoulders. “Woah, I'm dizzy…” He laughs a little. “What did you expect?

“I’m trying to build up my dizziness immunity.” He pulls you closer as you stumble. “Is that a thing?” You meet his blue eyes and nod. “Well, I just made it up so, yeah.” He nods too and goes with it. “It must be really low then.” You scoff in offence. “It is not!” He gestures at you. “Look at you. You can’t even walk straight now.” 

“Well, I-” You struggle to come up with something before just going with the first thing that comes to mind. “Of course I can’t walk straight! I’m gay!” He smiles as he laughs. “I was half expecting you to say that.” You read his expression before adding, “Are you ok with that?” He nods immediately. “Of course. I’m pan.” (I totally headcanon that) Your eyes light up and you gasp. A fellow queer! “Do you like frogs!?”

“Are you going to ask if I want to go frog hunting with you?” Wow, damn, he already knows you perfectly. “Yes, I'm going to ask if you’d like to go frog hunting with me.” He nods, holding the door open for you. What a gentleman. “Yeah, I’m down.” You walk in, then follow him to class. “I’ve got the perfect outfit. I even have a frog hat.” 

“I used to have one, but lost it. I’ll buy a new one so we can match. I’ve also got waterproof boots.” (Just imagine him in a cute frog hat) You're already making a mental list of all the stuff you need. “I know a good creek.” That immediately catches his attention. “The one twenty minutes away?” You didn’t take him for an outdoorsy type of dude. “Yeah…” His eyes light up. “I like to draw there!” You shake your head in amusement. “Of course you do, Travis.” He can’t help the slight flush to his cheeks. He loves whenever you say his name. He opens the door for you when you reach class. 

 “Would you like to share my art supplies?” He follows in with you. “Yeah. You can use mine too.” You both gather your supplies and share them with each other. It’s nice for both of you to have someone to draw with and won’t judge you. You show him the project you're working on. “Look.” He looks up from his own drawing. “You showed me yesterday… twice.” You look confused. “Wait, I did? I don’t remember.” 

“You said that too the second time you showed me. How are you so forgetful?” You sit down across from him, working on your project. “I don’t know. I’m usually not paying attention.” Travis hums in response, falling quiet as he works on his project. You watch him for a few minutes before your gaze falls back onto your drawing. He grunts when he feels you kick his foot under the table. Assuming it was a mistake, which it was, he goes back to drawing. The first time was an accident, but the second wasn't. You watch his face for his reaction. He looks up from his drawing. Was that another accident? Apparently not because you just did it for a third damn time. He looks back down at his drawing as he plays footsie with you under the table. There’s a very small smile on his lips. He’s glad he’s friends with the weird girl. He feels seen. 

꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…꩜…

I kept trying to end this but each time I did, I got a new idea to add

[sergeantsporks]

Witch Switch: All of Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

That's a wrap on Episode 1! Episode 2 should start coming out around May 1st; see you then!

Transcript underneath the cut

Cover: Portal Door

[Open on Phillip, waiting outside school with Jacob Hopkins]

Jacob: [completely unprompted] So I was watching this video—

Phillip: Oh, god, here we go.

J: —about underground witch rings that still exist throughout the world—

P: They’re called neopagans, and they aren’t underground. Also, witch “rings” aren’t a thing, they’re called “covens.” Which you’d know if you got your information from literally any reliable source.

J: Yeah, well, anyway I was thinking, what if there are some in Gravesfield? I mean, how would we know? I’m pretty sure the museum curator is a witch, so we should investigate the—

[Cut to Phillip, exasperated, holding his arms in an “x”]

P: There’s no “we” here, don’t rope me into this. Leave Masha alone. So what if they’re a neopagan? There’s no such thing as a “real” witch with “real” magic. They’re not hurting anything.

[Cut to Jacob, incensed]

J: You might not believe it, but I know what I saw! Witches and demons walk among us, and—

P: [disembodied] Oh, look, my ride is here, bye, Jacob.

[Car pulls away from the curb, leaving a fuming Jacob]

[Inside the car]

Caleb: Aw, was that one of your friends?

P: No. Just Jacob.

C: Seemed like you guys were having a nice conversation!

P: He was suggesting breaking and entering so that he could collect evidence that the museum curator is a witch and should be burned at the stake, because he’s an idiot who doesn’t even know that witches in America were hung, not burned.

[Cut to just Caleb, worried]

Caleb: Oh. Um. Don’t do that, please.

P: [disembodied] I’d drop dead before going along with him. He just hangs around the guys, he’s not really our friend.

C: Ah.

P: [perplexed] Hey, you missed the turn.

C: Yeah, you’re coming to work with me today. You can do your homework there.

P: Is this because of what happened on the field trip?

C: No, no, nothing to do with that. It’s just…

[Cut to tense, worried Phillip]

C: [disembodied] There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.

[Cut to inside of Robin Roast. Caleb sets a coffee in front of Phillip and sits down]

Caleb: So, Phillip… What do you think of Evelyn?

Phillip: Eh. She’s fine. I guess. If you like her.

C: You’re not just saying that?

P: Did she snitch about me not letting her in right away? I swear I couldn’t hear her. (lying).

C: It’s not about that, Phillip. Although you need to be more aware of your surroundings when I’m not home—especially if you know someone’s coming.

P: Yeah, okay.

C: I know you didn’t use to like Evelyn very much, so I just wanted to know what you thought of her now.

[Cut to Phillip drinking his coffee]

P: Mhm.

C: [disembodied] And… I wanted to know what you would think of inviting her to join our family

P: [spits out his coffee]

[Phillip wipes his mouth, incredulous]

Phillip: WHAT?! You can’t marry Evelyn!

Caleb: [disembodied] Why not? We’ve known her for 4 years now, and I’ve been dating her for 2.

P: Uh—no. She knows us. We don’t actually know anything about her!

[Cut to floating cartoon heads of Caleb and Phillip, Caleb going from confused to varying levels of defensive while Phillip grills him]

Caleb: What are you talking about? Sure we do.

P: We don’t know where she works—

C: She works in a pawn shop… or thrift store or something… I think.

P: —we know nothing about her family—

C: Oh, come on, you know better than anyone that family can be a touchy subject.

P: —She disappears for weeks at a time-!

C: She’s visiting family!

P: The family we’ve never met?

C: They live far away! And… I think they have bad reception out there? (I can never get in contact with her when she’s gone…)

P: You’ve never even seen where she lives! Probably because she keeps the ripped-out-hearts of the other guys who proposed to her under her floorboards!

C: Don’t be gross, Pip. I thought you were fine with her?

[Cut to regular style Phillip]

P: I’m fine with her as she is now, because you like her. I don’t want her to live with us. Ever. Besides, we don’t have the space for it

[Cut to Caleb, amused/apologetic/cunning]

C: Well… if we did get married, we’d probably move into a two bedroom. You’d get your own room! That would be pretty great, right?

P: [disembodied] Oh, so this is all for my benefit now? Not because it’s something you want?

C: No, it’s definitely something I want, I just figured… you might like to know some positives for you, to see how it’s good for both of us. Oh, hey, you wouldn’t be alone at home so often.

P: I don’t want company if it’s her. And I don’t need a babysitter—geeze, this is about the field trip, isn’t it?!

C: It’s not! Hey, look, I already talked to Manny about it, and he doesn’t think it’s a bad idea, in case an outside opinion helps. I know it’s a weird new thing to think about. But I’m not going to jump in right away, I promise. Let’s give the idea a couple of days to simmer, give you some time to get used to it, and—

[Cut to Phillip, who’s stood up abruptly]

P: It doesn’t need to simmer! I’m not okay with this! I will never be okay with you marrying her, even if everyone in the world thought you should!

[Cut to Caleb, who looks hurt and annoyed]

C: Oh, yeah? Even if your “friends” dared you to be okay with it? [his face immediately drops]

[Cut to upset Phillip whirling around]

[Cut to Phillip running out the door of the café while Caleb stands in the door, reaching towards him]

C: Phillip, wait!

[Phillip is gone from frame, and Caleb pinches his nose]

C: …Shit.

[Phillip runs through Gravesfield, upset]

Phillip: He can’t marry her, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t!

[He finally stops near the old, abandoned house, hiding behind a tree and clutching his head]

P: Ohhhhhh what was I thinking, storming out like that? Having a screaming match in public like a toddler? What if the guys find out? Stupid, stupid, stup—

[Phillip hears a rustling sound]

P: What…?

[he peers around the tree to see Evelyn with a big bag, looking around, very suspicious. Phillip gets a lightbulb moment]

P: Oh, I knew she was shady! I knew it!

[Buzz from his pocket]

Text from Caleb reads: Pip, please come home. We can talk about it later, just please stay safe until I can get to you.

[Phillip sneaks up to the house, peering inside holding his phone]

P: I just have to get proof she’s breaking the law, and then Caleb won’t even think about letting her in the house, let alone marrying her! Evidence, then home, then…

[Cut to the portal door]

P: [disembodied] What the…

[Manny and Camila are taking a walk through the neighborhood. Suddenly, Manny pricks up, taking a turn down to the old house, leaving Camilla behind]

Manny: Hey, Phillip what are you doing out—

[Cut to the inside of the house. Phillip glances behind him at Manny’s call, then pushes forward through the portal, which closes behind him just as Manny reaches the house]

M: …here…

[Camilla catches up]

Camilla: What’s going on?

M: [confused] I thought I saw…

[Cut to empty room]

M: [disembodied] …ah, never mind. I’m sure it’s nothing.

[Cut to Phillip, absolutely flabbergasted. Wide shot of the Isles, Phillip very small in it]

P: Where the HELL am I?

[End Part 3]

[End of Episode 1]

[femmefatalevibe]

hi femme!!

i’ve been talking to this guy for about 2 months now, and things are going well i really like him. he’s coming to my city to visit me in about a week for a few days and i wanted to ask if you could recommend some date plans that we could do?

i’ve never had a boyfriend before or even been taken/planned a date and im a bit nervous and self conscious about this, especially since i know he’s had a few relationships in the past (including with a girl who’s also from my city 🥲) and i don’t want to just be another girl in his life or for him to be having deja vu when hanging out with me (think olivia rodrigo). idk if this is just me but im scared he’ll think im boring and i really want this to work out.

i’d love to hear your advice !!

thank you so much <333

Hi love! Just remember, if you've left your house to do things post-COVID, you have as much daytime activity experience as he does, lol. Dating is a two-way street, and you need to approach it as such. You're evaluating how much you like him in the same way he should be seeing if he's compatible with you. Other girls he's gone out with are irrelevant – he's traveling to go on this date with YOU.

Anyway, onto some fun date activities:

Go to a local museum

Take a stroll in the park

Have a picnic in the park

Go to a paint-and-sip class (or a regular pottery class)

Go rollerskating/ice skating/boat rowing

Play mini golf/tennis or pickleball

Attend a comedy show/jazz or piano show

Go to a trivia/karaoke night

Get ice cream/dessert/coffee at a novelty, fun place

See an outdoor movie

Go bowling

Browse local bookstores/thrift stores

Do a food/dessert tour

Go to an amusement park

Breakfast/lunch/dinner (can't not include this one, lol)

See an indie or vintage film

Hope this helps xx

[rgr-pop]

I lost a brooch while I was on the road. not a huge loss, wouldn’t have worn it traveling if it mattered that much, but now that it’s gone I appreciate it and want to replace it. it was a scripty monogram of over two inches in white rhinestone. it wasn’t a notable make but the stones were really big, bright and clear leading me to think it was a little older than it seemed (more comparable to nice fifties pieces I’ve had), but I’d have to research. which I never did because I never thought twice about it. i just remembered i took a pic right before losing it.

what I liked about it were two things: that it was a large monogram brooch (all the others I have are tiny), and the quality of the rhinestones and that they were all sizeable and the same size (kind of a tennis effect). love the silver setting and also, looking at it now, the cartoonish script. I want to replace these qualities more than the thing itself.

I bought it wherever (flea market, jewelry fair, garage sale) not in careful selection but because I always buy monograms. important info you could have guessed but may not have known, you can ALWAYS gift me vintage costume jewelry Rs you encounter en thrift—in any condition or any mode, I will like! if there’s an RR monogram you simply must!!

also as you know i’m hunting for right hand rings and i reaaally want a monogram but i don’t have any more specific ideas.

[nevada-wrytes]

Chapter 3 - When the Ocean Starts Retreating (And You Don't Run Away)

Content warnings: Underage drinking, alcohol, kissing

Here's the link to the previous chapter and here's the link to the next one!

Birds of a feather flock together- or however the saying goes- was entirely based on falsehoods. Raven could name many birds that would like to never see his face again— and it’s not like he didn’t mirror the same sentiment.

“What do you think of this dress?” Dahlia held out a thrifted nightgown with all the toppings: ruffles and lace and buttons where they do not need to be.

Raven, from where he was belly-flopped over a cushiony ottoman, craned his neck to look. You’d look like a pearl. “It’s too cold,” he huffed, collapsing limply back to his default pose.

“Well obviously I’d layer! But anyways, do you think this would match my Docs better than the green maxi dress..”

Raven turned off the part of him that could process speech. His mind felt stuffy after so long at the he-should-really-stop-calling-this-a-pep-rally-funeral. Not to mention his stomach was rumbling. Damn, when was the last time he ate?

Dahlia, having sensed his unwillingness to be of any fashion help, had gone to pester her siblings for advice, which left him the rest of the room to mope around.

He got up from the low ottoman with an intake of breath and a good stretch, enough to hear his spine snap and pop pleasantly. Then he gleefully jumped on to Dahlia’s bed and burrowed into the thick duvet and blankets. They still smelled like her, and for once he allowed himself to devour- taking deep, greedy breaths.

Once he had assembled himself a little nest, he poked his head out and almost knocked over a framed photo on the nightstand. He caught it with his fast reflexes (not bragging or anything) and gingerly set it back.

Something about the photo caught his attention. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it before, or like it was revolutionary photography skills- it was just a selfie of Dahlia in between an older frowning man with a bushy mustache and a tiny woman. He’d seen her parents before (kind of had to as her would-be sort of boyfriend) but- this time it felt different.

The people in the photo seemed so- genuine. Nice. They seem like the kind of family who would be upset if something happened to their own.

Raven thought about his own family. He hadn’t seen them in a while- did he miss them? Would they be upset if something happened to him- wait- no, what was he thinking?

Raven got up and shook those thoughts away as if he was putting a giant cotton swab in his brain and swishing it around.

“Raveeeen~” Dahlia’s voice floated through the hallway. She was already fully dressed in a cute outfit and braids that made her look like a Studio Ghibli character. She slung a tote bag over her arm. “Ready to go?”

Raven gave her his best bright smile. “Yup!”

He took her by the arm and together they walked out.

“I like your hair, did Aspen braid it?

“Yeah! He said two braids would look the best.”

“It frames your face nicely. I want to grow my hair out so I can braid it too..”

ˇ

There was no keg-standing at the party— and for that, Raven was immensely disappointed. He wanted to have a true American highschool experience. Dahlia told him he should’ve gone to a frat house rather than a quaint New England town.

Besides that, the party seemed alright. Some rich kid was hosting it at his ski lodge— which was just a revamped log cabin in the middle of the woods equipped with a tennis court and swimming pool. Oh, and a jacuzzi— although it was unfortunately being occupied by couples who forgot social distancing was a thing. They did not seem in a hurry— Raven was never getting a turn in that hot tub.

Dahlia steered him away. “Oh, I think I see my friend’s over there- I’m gonna go say hi-” She let go of his arm to wave, “-hey! Girlies!”

Raven felt a fond smile grow on his face as he watched her run off. He mosied on back to a snacks table— someone had put a framed photo of the dead girl from the funeral next to the red solo cups. What a harsh reminder of what they were all supposed to be doing there.

He took a cup, weighed the pros and cons of drinking tonight, and then deemed that all irrelevant. In went two full ladles of whatever hard liquor x everything else in your pantry concoction something had made. He was pretty sure he saw a gummy worm bobbing in his cup. It tasted like burnt sugar going down, but brought back a pleasant warmth in his fingers.

Idly, he milled over to the dance floor. Someone had hung up fairy lights and lanterns around the patio, and with the canopy of trees in the background, it almost looked like the fortune teller’s tent.

He was sick of those stupid fairy lights.

Before he could leave, Raven felt rather than saw the stranger come up to him. His body stiffened on its own accord, but he willed himself to chill.

"Hey." Raven turned around, all nonchalant, and his eyes widened.

The stranger— an absolute Beast of a man— was taller than him (and he was almost six foot) and had an impressive amount of piercings dotting his face. Dark shaggy hair fell into his eyes from his wolf cut. He wore jeans so ripped you could practically see his thighs- and so many chains- he must have spent years harvesting them from prisoners. It was agonizing looking at him— how could someone be cooler than Raven, the coolest guy ever??

"I like your shirt." He had a deep, smooth voice, too. He didn't fail to notice Raven's staring, in fact, the corner of his mouth curved upwards around his lip piercing. Raven felt his face grow hot. Any self-respect he had sank to the floor.

"My- my shirt?" He looked down to see what he was wearing. It was an old rock band t-shirt from a group long disbanded. "Oh- er- thank you?"

"It's vintage, right? Which thrift store did ya get it at? I work at one, you know, so if you ever wanted a discount-"

"What? Oh, no, I got this shirt while they were on tour."

"What?"

He spotted Dahlia in the crowd by herself. "'Scuse me-"

Raven surprised her from behind with a hug, "Guess who!"

Dahlia jumped, nearly spilling her drink. "Raven!" She settled back in his arms. He smiled and began to sway to the beat of the music. Dahlia said nothing.

Raven cursed himself for how awkward his next words were going to be. "Hey- ugh, what's wrong?"

Dahlia hummed. "It's nothing. My friends were just saying some mean shit about the girl who died. I mean- I didn't really care about her either but- it's not nice to spread rumors when she's gone and all that-" Dahlia turned to face him, "Raven, if something happened to me, would you be upset?"

"I- What?"

The music stopped. "Hey, hey, hey, party people!" Someone had commandeered the mic from the karaoke machine, "This is your host, Ronnie speaking! I know some of you've been rumbling about bad weather- but don't worry, Ron's got you all covered. If this place goes south we still have the whole basement- and there's a pool table!- So don't fret, just enjoy the music, alcohol, and party as if we're gonna die tomorrow!!" He chuckled. "I mean you never know, one of us could be next!" His eyes shot directly to Raven.

The music continued shortly after, seemingly no one had heard the last part of Ronnie's speech. Raven looked back at Dahlia but she wasn't there. Panic surged through him.

"Dahlia?" He looked over the heads on the dance floor but couldn't see the familiar brown locks.

"Dahlia?" He found a group of girls huddled by the drinks table, but they shot him a weird look.

"Dahlia?" His voice was a whisper. He had somehow made it to the edge of the backyard, right by the woods.

The overcast sky was pitch black at this hour, so the forest seemed even darker than usual. A cool wind rustled the dry branches. As he looked up, he saw dozens of beady eyes staring at him.

"Raven?" He willed himself to turn around. Dahlia stood on the last step of the deck, two drinks in her hands.

"What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't find you."

"I just went to get some drinks. Come on, these are hot."

ˇˇ

They found a quiet corner away from the noise of the central party. Raven cupped a steamy drink in his hand. He took a sip and was delighted to find out it tasted exactly like Autumn. And cinnamon.

"What is this?"

"Cider. There's alcohol in it too, so it'll warm you right up."

"Hmp. Nice."

They quietly drank. Dahlia was first to speak up.

"Do you want to go home?"

Raven took a second to answer. "I don't want to leave you here alone."

"I'd go with you."

"What? But you were the one who wanted to come here."

Dahlia shrugged. "Yeah, and now I'm here. I had a fun time, it's probably late, I wouldn't mind leaving. Besides-" She got closer, "I don't want to force you to do anything you're uncomfy with.

She was staring right at him. Raven felt lost in her large eyes. He swallowed and set down his drink. "You didn't force me- I don't do anything I don't want to do regardless-"

"Hmp." Dahlia smiled. She was getting really close. Her breath smelled like alcohol and fruit.

"So this is okay?" Her lips were right next to his ear. His face went red- and he wasn't sure if it was just from the alcohol or not.

"Yes, yes it's fine."

"And this?" She kissed his neck, right underneath his jaw.

"MHM! YUP!" He shut his eyes. Let her pull him close. Found where his hands slot around her waist. Where his lips fit around hers. Where their breaths merged into one.

It was drunken revelry at its finest. One last hoorah.

Tag list: (ask to be added/removed) @thebonecarver @victorfrankingstein @confused-as-all-hell @iambecomeyourvillain @brekkercookie @fallen-from-olympus @purpl-cryptid @reyyya @thecurlychameleon @naz-yalensky @thesexypanda-boo @kazoo-the-demjin @twelve-kinds-of-trouble @robbiinn

[freegancreations]

20 swatches.

You can find previews in the Example Photos. :)

These Item is Unisex and can be worn by all genders.

These Items wont randomize onto random sims. It will be your Sims personal item. If you place it, they wear it. No more Stolen Outfits! :)

My Dearest Freegan Babies,

Today I’d like to tell you about one of my favorite stores that played a decent part in my life. I grew up very low income. Thrift store vouchers were how I got new clothes every year for school, and when I grew up, thrift stores were never the place to be. It was seen as a disgrace in my small town to have to do that. For me, I thought of Thrifting as a magical place. I enjoyed looking at the clothes and imagining who owned them prior and what their life was like. It allowed me access into other cultures and environments I probably wouldn’t have experienced otherwise.

When I was in middle school, a girl in my class had gotten a new coat from a Goodwill by her house. She loved that coat and couldn’t wait to show it off before first period as we lined up and waited at the doors to be let in. This was our little runway, if you will… She was so excited that she showed it off to everyone walking by until the “Upper class” girls got in line. The snottiest of them noticed the Coat and announced to everyone that she gave that to Goodwill for the poor and that it was her jacket. She pointed out a stain she made on the sleeve and shamed the girl for getting something at the Goodwill bins. She made such a scene that the poor girl broke into tears and ripped off the coat... She threw it away and didn’t wear another one until Junior Year. It may sound extreme, but for her that was what pushed her over the edge.  It was heartbreaking. A few of us tried to make it better, but there was no way of reaching her. She was too far into the rabbit hole of shame.

I, too, remember feeling this way, and knew that my number would come up one day. It did, but luckily the girl who donated was much kinder. She came up to me my Sophomore year and informed me that was her favorite jacket too, but it no longer fit. She told me how happy she was that it got a good home, and we scheduled a day to go Thrifting together. It was an unexpected friendship, and it was a time I needed a friend like that.

When I turned 16, I had finally saved up enough for a shopping spree at WildCats. It was a tiny Vintage store sandwiched between two abandoned buildings at this time, but it was on one of the main strips of Downtown. I remember trying to go for about 3 months, but I kept barely missing them due to my schedule. I remember walking in and feeling at home… I felt Safe. Soft, yet strongly written music was playing on the speaker system and the owner just let me explore. I found multiple items, and asked to try them on. I was thrilled when I found a Cherry print Halter Dress from the 1970s and a Leather Jacket in the back that fit my frame perfectly. It was a men’s small, and I asked why it was in the back. She said it was from an estate sale. The man who owned it in his 20’s had passed away of old age and the family wanted to donate it. I bought it instantly, and still have/wear it today. I like to think it’s my lucky jacket.

In the side pocket, there's an intentional hole torn in it that I didn’t find until a few years later. Inside was a little grocery list, a pack of Unopened Halls Cough drops, and a Folded up “lucky” bandanna. It was stashed in the lining to be kept safe, and I didn’t know the back story but I knew it was stashed away in there with love.  So I kept it there. Whenever I wear my jacket and I feel anxious, I reach out and hold that bandanna in my hands and I don’t feel as alone. It was a small gift, and a small remembrance of a man I never met, but felt weirdly close to. I remember leaving my own tiny note for the next person who may receive this jacket after I’m gone, and I hope they find it. I hope that they feel how much love was put into that jacket, how many memories had been made, and I hope they make their own.

I mention this because as I was thinking about why I make CCs and why I’m trying to painstakingly make my own meshes; I can’t help but to think of all of you… I think of how many people have come to my page and found something they loved. I think about how many little moments I have been a part of by extension, and I feel nothing but love and pride to be a small moment in your life. I hope you know how much I care about all of you, and how much I hope that my little letters, little gifts, and my time spent is a sign that you are loved, and you are thought of. I know this world is hard right now, and I know things can get really rough. I hope you find your own lucky item that brings you comfort, and until then I hope my CCs remind you that some random stranger thinks about you every day. They wish the very best for you, and you are well wanted in this world…

Find your own Wildcats, Explore, and Love like there is no tomorrow.

Best wishes my Dearest Freegans! Be Good and Do some Good out there, Ok? We’re all in this together after all. <3

-Ashley J Williams, Freegan Creations

[spiderwaltz]

3/08/25 - what I’ve been reading recently!

- gilmore girls is one of my favorite shows, and I recently read both Kelly Bishop (Emily) and Lauren Grahams (Lorelai) memoirs. They were both self narrated, short n sweet and felt like pleasant conversations with an old friend. I’d recommend them to fans.

- i’ve read a handful of mysteries. I’ve been reading are the counselors (took place at a summer camp, murder mystery, rich kids, twisty, who can you trust, kicked up at a thrift store. it was ok not one of my favorites.) mother daughter murder night is ironically a similar character set up to gilmore girls. there are three main characters - a single mother, her daughter, and her mother. the grandma is rich like emily but she is sick with cancer. she has an estranged relationship with her daughter and used to live in LA before moving closer to family when she got sick. It starts off with her daughter doing her job as a kayak tour guide and one of her guests discovering a dead body. the body has a jacket belonging to the company and it is clear, much to her and her family’s alarm, that the killer was trying to frame her for it. her grandma sets off despite her condition to solve this mystery because she hates feeling sick and helpless and the opportunity to help her granddaughter ends up bringing her closer to her family. it was a cozy little mystery and I really enjoyed it. I love how the family’s bond developed through the story. Lastly, I listened to the recording of None of this is true by Lisa Jewell, and I really enjoyed it. the premise is two women meet on their 45th birthday on the basis of being birthday twins turning the same age on the same day. One of them is crazy and her manipulation unravels more and more as the story goes on. One of them has a podcast and recording this unfolding. They both bond over their struggling relationships. it’s a good story and really good listen, not a favorite but i wouldn’t mind listening again.

- Tender is the flesh is a horror book I heard about forever ago and just recently read. It was really good, even though I’m more interested in the technicalities of how the dystopian society the book is about works and how it came to be. I would like to hear about more characters living in it and how they cope. topics like this really interest me. It wasn’t just a book about cannibalism, but about capitalism and how we as a society become desensitized to things that are fucked up. The main character inherited his father’s meat business (beef and pork) except the transition happened. animals became infected with a virus making their meat inedible to humans causing humans to mark off and harvest each other for meat, and marcos, the main character, had to begin to slaughter humans for food. he is gifted a human from his boss. he reveals how he and his wife wanted a family, but she’s gone now because she couldn’t cope with her miscarriage.

The twist was that he came up with the system, and he broke it. The book made him seem like he was opposing it and falling in love with the slave he reluctantly took in, though he wasn’t complaining about getting her because he couldn’t rest at night with something he morally disagreed with but because she would be a pain in the ass to care for. He was lonely and coping with the loss of his baby and used her body to cope. At the end, he called his ex wife who is a nurse to deliver her baby and said the two of them can finally be a family.

The craziest part of this book in my opinion is when his boss host a BBQ where they barbecue a child to celebrate that his wife is pregnant and he’s going to be a father. It shows how they feel about things as a society.

- I’ve started reading a really good novel called wrong place wrong time. It’s starts off a mother who works as a lawyer thanking god that her son is finally 18 so he isn’t her problem anymore. then, to her shock, he stabs a man to death outside! her son has never been violent and she doesn’t understand how this could happen. then she wakes up yesterday. and the next day is the day before that. it’s clear to her what her purpose is - to find out why her son did what he did and how she can save him. I’m really loving it so far.