#all these guys know is say stuff to seem like they're doing something and then do absolutely nothing

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 2, Moving noises?

Masterlist Word count: 1.9 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Author's note: Haha, take this! 2 chapters in one day! Also, every time I write another chapter to this story I have to update the warnings and it isn't even that spicy yet.

Mature content under the cut.

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'Are you alright? You look tired.' Tara sounds awfully concerned and you can imagine why. The bags under your eyes might as well be down to your knees by now. Turns out your new neighbor is nocturnal. You couldn't care less about the moving noises, but the fact that they only happen past ten pm is killing you. 

'No kidding,' you sass at her. Quickly, you smack your hands in front of your face. Sure, you're known to have an attitude but never to Tara. She's too sweet. 'I'm sorry, I'm just so tired.' 

Tara frowns: 'Is it that new neighbor of yours? Kieran told me he has a tendency to stay up late.' 

'That's an understatement. He's nocturnal.' Tara lets out an annoyed groan in solidarity, but it just sounds cute coming from her. 'It's fine. I'm sure he's almost done. I mean, how much stuff can you fit into one of those units? You've seen mine, the one next door isn't much bigger.' 

'Must be a big change, considering you and Zayne were so close.' 

'We still are,' you tell her, 'we just see each other a little less now. I do miss him a lot.' She nods but her eyes have a little twinkle in them and you know where this is going. 'No, stop that. Zayne and I are just friends.' 

'Never even... you know,' she questions with a cheeky smile and a wiggle of her brow. 

'No, never,' you laugh, 'as I said, just friends. I don't know, he just feels like a brother. I mean, I've teased him before as a joke and nothing “physical” happened on his end. So I don't think he likes me either.' 

'He goes through an awful lot of effort to be “just friends,” just saying.' 

'Yeah, yeah, sure. You have a very filthy mind for the way you look.' 

'It's been said,' she responds with a gleaming smile. You lean back in your chair and cross your arms, looking her up and down. 

'About that.' Her body tenses up every so slightly. 'Your boyfriend is not what I expected at all. I mean, I've seen him pick you up before and he looks quite tough, but he seemed just as awkward as you are.' Tara's eyes flicker around the room a while, seemingly not wanting to explain anything to you, until her phone lights up. She quickly checks the notification and gasps with excitement. 

'Hold that thought, so Kieran just told me they're doing drinks to celebrate Sylus’ move. That means they must be done,' she states in a chipper tone. You raise an eyebrow at the strange change of topic. There's a freaky side to that woman, you're sure of it. 

'So?' 

'So, I'm dropping Kieran off so he can have some drinks but maybe we can have a girls' night,' she suggests. Considering Red Crow isn't posting anything today for once, your evening is completely open. Could be fun to have a quiet night in with Tara. 

'Sure, sounds fun. What are you thinking? Movie, face masks, board game?' 

'All of the above,' she squeals in excitement, 'I'll bring some snacks.' 

'Great, just let me know when you and Kieran are driving over.' 

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To be a good neighbor, you decided to get this Sylus guy a little something as a housewarming gift. Considering they'll be drinking; a bottle of whiskey can never go wrong. Lucky for you, you were gifted a bottle of whiskey a few weeks ago but you know that one is not quite your style. The Writer's Tears single pot still. It's a very nice whiskey and you've had different whiskeys from Writer's Tears before, but you're just not the biggest whiskey drinker. It's expensive too, so it might give a good impression. 

Tara just texted you she's on her way, which means you've got about fifteen minutes before she gets here. You considered waiting for her and Kieran to hand over the gift so it could be in the spirit of "oh, just dropping my friend's boyfriend off" but that’s just weird. Feels like you're a parent dropping your kid off at school and you're not about that. 

So now you're here, in front of the oh-so familiar door that you used to have a key to. Part of you is really curious how the place looks now, another part of you wants to keep the memory of how it used to be in a time capsule. Either way, you've got a present for your neighbor and this interaction could be done within a minute if you do it right. 

You press the doorbell and hear something fall followed by a string of curses. The door opens fast and the person on the other side, who you think is probably Sylus, towers over you. You look up at him with wide eyes and recognize him right away. That man right there is the reason for most of your pleasure and orgasms. Red Crow. 

'What,' he barks. Rude , and not at all what you would've expected. Still, it takes you a second to take all of him in. He’s even taller than you imagined, eyes even more piercing, face even sharper. It's like a fucking God leaning over you and staring down like you're no more than a puny peasant. 

And a switch flicks in your head. 

'Fix your tone,' you huff, 'I'm your neighbor. I thought I'd bring you a housewarming present.' His eyes widen ever so slightly. How you managed to muster up such a bratty tone in the face of who's talked you over the edge more times than you can count is a mystery to you, but it feels kind of nice to see him stunned like this. You hold out the box the whiskey is packaged in towards him. 

His shoulders relax and he does actually fix his face. His features soften a little and his eyes no longer stare at you like you're an intruder. Your heart starts racing, as if your body just now realizes who is in front of you. You beg to the Gods above that your cheeks don't get bright red. A cold shiver goes down your spine when he takes the box from you with a flicker of an amused smile, the box suddenly seeming much smaller in his hands. 'Thank you, that's nice.' 

'No worries. Tara told me you're having a party, so I thought that wouldn't hurt,' you say, trying to sound as casual as possible. He studies your face for a second, searching for the answers to a question he doesn't ask you. 

'You know Tara?' You nod. 

'She's my coworker.' Shit, your voice isn't as steady as it was at the start anymore. You've got this man on a fucking pedestal and he's here, in reach. It's a weird feeling. Your panties are soaked but you're highly put off by the way he greeted you. Still... there are very little appropriate thoughts going on in your head right now. If this was your last day on earth, you'd have this man bend you like a pretzel right here right now in the hallway. 

He nods, amused like a cat playing with its prey. 'Is that right?’ 

'Yes. Whelp, nice meeting you. I'm gonna go back to my place,' you ramble awkwardly and quickly turn to slip back into your own apartment, accidentally slamming the door. How the hell are you going to face Tara now? Your body is going into overdrive. You bet you could cum just hearing your vibrator turn on. However, you can't risk it. Tara has told you Kieran drives like a maniac and always drives if he's sober, which is now. She could be in front of your door any second. 

"Just breathe," you tell yourself, "it's just a man." Yeah, just a man, a man that could fuck you like there's no tomorrow. Shit, your thoughts aren't your friends right now. A cold shower ought to work. Hopefully. 

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The bottle of whiskey from his neighbor was put on display on his bar cart. He knows the kind and that type of whiskey isn't for parties. Not even small parties like this. He figures it might be a regift or something. No sane person would give a total stranger an expensive whiskey like this. Never mind a stranger who has been a disturbance from the start. 

Then again, they're not really strangers. He saw the look in her eyes. He's seen it before and hasn't been wrong about it yet. It's that "I've seen you naked" look. To be fair, Sylus would've preferred to stay anonymous in this building for a little longer but considering his neighbor is friends with Tara, she probably won't tell anyone what he does. That is, if she knows what her boyfriend Kieran does since he wears a mask in his content. 

But there was more in her eyes. More than just scandal or embarrassment. There was lust. A lot of it. So much so that Sylus feared he might've caused his pants to tent if she would've bit her lip. Best for both of them that she left when she did. 

He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. Normally, he's not one to obsess like this but there was just something about her. Something about how she looked at him, about the way she commanded him to fix his tone. It's been a long damn time since a woman showed that kind of dominance to him and, shit, it turns him on like crazy. 

Maybe, just maybe, he can rub one out real quick. He sits down on his bed and looks down at the bulge in his pants. He truly hopes he didn't look like that before. He hadn't seen her look at it. Besides, would that be so bad? It looked like she wanted him to take her right then and there, and he would have if she asked. Or demanded, he isn't picky. 

A devious thought pops up in his head. He promised his followers he'd record himself getting off if they begged and beg they did. Maybe he could tease her with this as well if she really does watch him. If it wasn't just a look of attraction and intimidation, but recognition. 

He whips out his phone, puts it on his dresser across from the bed pointed at his crotch and upper body with his thighs still visible. His face is just out of frame, not on purpose but he doesn't mind his followers not seeing how flustered one small interaction got him. Not that they'd ever know why, but she would. 

He sits down on the edge of the bed once more to check if everything's in frame when he hears it. The shower. Her shower. So, her bathroom and his are next to each other, which means their bedrooms are probably also next to each other.  

“Good to know,” he thinks to himself, and that's when he hears it. The softest, most muffled of moans coming through the air extractor fan followed by a string of whimpers. Those must be connected to each other. He feels his dick twitch against his pants like it's being chocked, his ears feel like they're burning while a wicked grin plays on his lips. 

And then he presses record. 

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[mirrorcatcreditcard]

Things I think the fandom just willfully ignores or has no idea about that would be super easy to slip into your fanfiction if you want to be inclusive and try out new things.

Lucifer just likes shibari, nawajutsu, or some form of rope tying art, and there's nothing inherently sexual about the excitement it brings him. He's a sadist too, but attraction to the other party would only add to the experience, not be necessary or a byproduct.

Belphegor could age regress and nobody would really be the wiser because of his position as coddled/spoiled youngest child. Even if they were, it doesn't change anything, really.

Beelzebub can fuck. He's also a cannibal. Do I need to say the vore word for you to understand how underutilized food/gore as a love language would be with him? No, it doesn't need to be sexual either, but goddamn so many keep treating him like UwU baby when he kills demons in cold blood because he hungy

Asmodeus is any gender or sexuality you want him to be. Lust ≠ attraction, and you can make him asexual. He's pretty free with how he presents. Also, his fans are so desperate for nice content on him that they'll take anything too. Nobody is going to kill you over this.

Mammon's greed can also be depicted as someone who wants to monopolize your time and/or affections. He attempts plenty of times in canon.

Barbatos' strongest attachment is Diavolo, but he does care about other beings. As long as they're not getting in the way of Diavolo, he's allowed to show care in his own way goddamnit. He's not an ice statue.

Mammon is allowed to be a non-sexual masochist. I don't know why people think all kinks are sexual, BUT HE'S ALLOWED.

I just want to take a moment to acknowledge bloodlust counting as a lust.

Luke is a genuinely deep character with a compelling story and important appearances, and you will be doing better than 99% of the fandom if you just acknowledge that he's more than just a kid who tags along and whines when he's scared (like all kids do when they're his age btw). Kicking him to the side is just another child discrimination case, and you can just say you don't understand him...

Almost everyone if not everyone has had a 1-on-1 in this series, and you're allowed to write about that scenario that "seems ooc" because there's someone out there who wishes that they could write who wants to see them interact, and they haven't found you because you haven't made yourself known.

I think over 75% of the cast has what humans would call a trauma disorder, and you guys have got to stop ignoring the fact that Solmare usually just brushes over stuff that genuinely affects them to keep the plot going. They've done it since the beginning, even before the cursed lesson 16.

Non-character-specific stuff under the cut:

You can headcanon and write any character that you want to as aromantic or on the spectrum. Also, news flash: familial, platonic, romantic, and sexual are not the only relationship labels to exist. Go look up "alterous attraction" if you wanna do something that would line up with, you know, emotions that aren't all centered around how our society depicts stuff.

If they're all built like that and inherently different from humans, neurodivergence may not exist to demons but have fun with the headcanons anyways. The world is your oyster.

[yoyomomiko]

[THREE] — The music box

☆ `` SPECTRAL SCAMMERS ``

☆ — summary: when cartman comes up with yet another 'get rich quick' scheme, he forces his friends, and you, into starting a ghost hunting service. armed with a mix of makeshift equipment, a questionable van and no actual skills, you begin taking jobs to "exorcise" haunted houses.

warnings: strong language, violence, horror elements, cartman being cartman.

(a/n): this chapter is sooo long and it took me DAYS to write it!! >_< (I genuinely didn't sleep at all and just wrote this without stopping, hours without breaks xx) -- this is by far the longest fic/chapter that I've ever wrote... I can't believe it's over 11k words!! I apologize for any grammar mistakes, you can point them out nicely and I'll fix them!! I also apologize for how this chapter seems kinda bland ^.^ -- for some reason, i feel like there wasn't enough romantic tension and stuff... and Tweek's interactions with the reader were so awkward I just don't know how to write for him (╥⁠﹏⁠╥)

wc: 11.1k+

★m.list

★series m.list

<- [PREVIOUS] — [NEXT] -> (uncompleted)

Lunch was rarely quiet, but today's chaos reached a new level as Cartman slammed his backpack onto the cafeteria table with a grin.

"You guys aren't going to believe this." He started, practically shaking in excitement.

"Is it another terrible idea?" Kyle asked, barely looking up from his lunch.

"It's not a terrible idea." Cartman snapped, puffing out his chest. "It's a brilliant idea. A $200 idea, to be exact."

"Here we go..." Stan muttered, leaning back in his seat.

Cartman ignored the groans and unsure looks as he whipped out his phone like a trophy. "I just landed us a gig at the old DeLacroix mansion. They're paying us $200 to 'investigate paranormal activity'."

You all froze for a moment, processing his words.

"Two hundred bucks?" Kenny asked, his eyes lighting up. "That's like... A month's worth of pop tats!"

"Wait, wait, wait..." You interrupted them, raising an eyebrow. "Who in their right mind would pay us twenty hundred dollars to investigate anything? We're not exactly professionals."

"That's where my genius comes in. I told them we're licensed professionals." Cartman smirked.

"Licensed by who? The South Park Department of Bullshit?" Craig asked jokingly.

"Licensed by me, obviously." Cartman shot back.

Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose. "So let me get this straight... You lied to some poor people and convinced them to pay $200 to mess and play around their houses pretending to hunt ghosts?"

"Exactly!" Cartman answered proudly. "And you're welcome."

"Dude, this is going to blow up in our faces." Stan said as he shook his head. "We don't know the first thing about ghost hunting."

"We don't need to." Cartman replied, waving him off. "Ghosts aren't even real. We just have to scare the homeowners enough for them to think that we actually did something."

"That's... Moraly questionable." You mumbled, eyeing him up and down.

"Oh, please, [Y/N], like you've never fucked with the truth to make a quick buck." Cartman rolled his eyes.

"I-I don't know about this..." Tweek, seated beside you, shifted uncomfortably. "What if the house is actually haunted?"

"Ghosts aren't real, Tweek." Craig replied flatly as he rested his arms on the lunch table.

"They're not real until they are..." Tweek mumbled, fidgeting with his fingers.

"Okay can we focus on the important part?" Clyde interrupted. "Two hundred dollars is a lot of money. I say we go for it."

"Yeah." Kenny agreed, nodding excitedly. "We could use the cash to upgrade our equipment or something." He muttered hesitantly, a bit heart broken that, most probably, that's what Cartman would want to do with the money.

"What equipment?" Stan asked, raising and eyebrow.

"We'll figure that out later!" Cartman said as he slammed his hands on the table. "All we have to do is show up, act professional and maybe sprinkle some flour to make it look like ghost footprints. Easy money!"

"This is such a bad idea." Kyle groaned.

"Bad idea or not, you're in." Cartman shot back smugly. "Everyone's in."

"I didn't agree to anything." Craig cut in.

"I don't care what you think, Craig." Cartman snapped. "You're coming. And you're driving the van."

Craig flipped him off with the same bored expression on his face.

"What van?" You asked, narrowing your eyes.

"Oh, I've got that covered. Just wait." Cartman's grin widened.

...

As the rest of the group continued to bicker, you couldn't help but notice Tweek fidgeting beside you. His hands toyed with the hem of his shirt, his leg bouncing under the table.

"You okay?" You asked softly, leaning closer to him.

He jumped slightly at the sound of your voice but nodded quickly. "Y-Yeah, just... You know, Cartman's plans never end well."

"That's fair." You mumbled, sighing before quickly giving him a small smile. "But hey, at least this one doesn't involve creating an alien beacon that sends signals out, which ends up getting us abducted by aliens and then arrested by the police." You recalled, reminding Tweek of the horrific incident that happened... Not long ago.

The corners of Tweek's lips tugged upwards, forming a shy smile, his eyes briefly meeting yours. "Yeah, I guess. Still, it's a haunted mansion... That's horror movie territory..."

"You're not scared, are you?" You teased lightly.

"N-No! Of course not!" His face turned a faint shade of pink.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you if anything jumps out." You assured him, smirking as you noticed his cheeks growing redder.

‘ He was so cute when he blushed! You could barely contain yourself from kissing him! ’

He laughed nervously, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. "T-Thanks..."

Across the table, Clyde wiggled his eyebrows at the two of you. "Aw, look at that! Lovebirds bonding over ghost hunting!"

"Shut up, Clyde." Your smirk faded as you threw your empty carton of milk at him.

"You're just jealous." Cartman cut in smugly. "Not everyone gets to bask in my genius and charm like [Y/N] does."

"Yeah, that's exactly it." You muttered dryly, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

...

After much debate and several insults exchanged between Cartman and Kyle, you all hesitantly agreed to the plan.

"Fine!" Stan snapped, throwing his hands up in the air. "We'll do it, but if this goes wrong, I'm blaming you, Cartman."

"Blame me all you want!" Cartman shot back as he smirked. "I'll be too busy counting my $200 to care."

"What do you mean 'my' $200?" Craig asked, his monotone voice cutting through the noise. "Pretty sure we're splitting it evenly."

"Yeah!" You agreed, nodding. "We're all risking our dignity here, so we all get a fair share."

Cartman huffed but didn't argue further. "Whatever. The point is, we've got a job. We're gonna kick some ghost ass!"

.

.

.

.

You all gathered in the school parking lot after the last bell, backpacks thrown over shoulders and various pieces of 'ghost equipment' in a row. Cartman stood in front of a suspiciously beat up white van, grinning ear to ear as if he was about to ask you if you wanted some candy.

"What the hell is that?" Kyle asked, staring at the van with wide eyes as if it would come to life and swallow him whole.

"Our ride." Cartman answered proudly, slapping the side of the van. "Rented it with my mom's credit card!"

"Your mom let you use her credit card?" Stan raised a brow.

"She doesn't know yet." Cartman admitted with a shrug. "But she will when I 'accidentally' leave the receipt on the counter. By then, it'll be too late."

"Classic." Craig muttered, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Dude, we're not getting in that thing." You said, eyeing the van doubtfully. "It looks like it hasn't been cleaned since the 90s. What's with the stain on the side?"

"Ghost residue." Cartman answered without missing a beat.

"Pretty sure that's bird crap." Clyde pointed out as he leaned closer.

"Shut up!" Cartman snapped. "Do you losers want to walk all the way to the DeLacroix mansion? No? Then get in."

"This is so stupid..." Stan sighed.

"Not as stupid as your haircut." Cartman shot back.

"Let's just get this over with." Kenny interrupted as he threw his backpack in the back. "I wanna see if we can actually pull this off."

The rest of you hesitated but eventually climbed into the van one by one. The inside was even worse, barely breathable air, carrying the smell of sweat, and seats covered in mysterious stains that no one wanted to identify.

"It smells like ass." Clyde stuck out his tongue, pinching his nose.

"This is disgusting." You mumbled as you took a seat near the back.

"Disgusting but functional." Cartman replied as he dropped into the driver's seat.

"You're not seriously the one driving, are you?" Kyle asked, eyeing Cartman up and down.

"Uh, yeah, who else is going to drive?"

"Literally anyone else." Craig cut in, raising his hand.

Cartman ignored him as he turned the key, starting the engine, which, by the way, sounded like it would break down any moment.

"Didn't you say Craig was gonna drive?" Clyde, who was seated in the passenger's seat, asked hesitantly.

"Nope. Don't remember ever saying that." Cartman replied, barely moving the van an inch.

.

.

You ended up next to Tweek, who was already fidgeting with the strap of his bag. His eyes scanned the van like he expected a ghost to pop up from the shadows.

"You good?" You asked, leaning slightly toward him.

"Y-Yeah." He nodded quickly, though his jumpy movements suggested otherwise.

"Well at least the van hasn't exploded yet. That's a good sign, right?" You gave him a small smile.

"I guess. But this thing smells like a gym locker." He chuckled, his shoulder relaxing a bit.

"You're not wrong..." You nodded, trying to hold your breath. "Let's just hope the drive isn't too long."

From the front, Cartman banged his fist on the steering wheel. "Can you idiots shut up for five seconds?! I'm trying to focus!"

"You're trying to focus on driving two miles an hour?" Kyle shot back.

"It's called being cautious you fucking bitch!" Cartman defended himself.

"It's called being a terrible driver." Craig muttered, earning a snicker from Kenny.

"Why don't you go flip off a tree or something?" Cartman snapped, glaring at him through the rearview mirror.

Craig responded by slowly raising his middle finger.

.

.

As the van crept out of town and onto the road leading to the DeLacroix mansion, the air began to shift. The sun was slowly lowering on the sky, causing long shadows across the pavement. Trees lined both sides of the road, their branches twisting up in the orange sky as they gently swayed in the wind.

"This road is creepy as hell." Kenny pointed out, gazing out the window.

"Perfect setting for a haunted mansion." Clyde added, his voice touched with nervous excitement.

"Or for us to get murdered." You muttered, making Tweek's grip on his thighs tighten.

"Relax! Nothing's going to happen. Ghosts aren't real, remember?" Cartman replied, though his hold on the steering wheel tightened.

"That's not what you said when you were charging $200." Stan pointed out.

"That's called marketing." Cartman shot back smugly. "You wouldn't understand."

The road hit a bump, making everyone jump out of their places.

"Careful, fatass!" Kyle shouted, grabbing onto Kenny who was beside him, holding onto his shoulder to secure himself in his seat.

"Don't like my walking? Get out and walk you fucking asshole!" Cartman snapped, turning around to glare at you all.

‘ Of course that idiot wasn't wearing a seatbelt... ’

"No one's walking." You spoke up, cutting off the argument before it could escalate. "Let's just focus on getting there in one piece."

Tweek shifted uncomfortably beside you, his knee bouncing nervously. You reached out and gave his arm a light tap, grabbing his attention.

"Hey, we'll be fine." You assured, keeping your tone casual. "Worst case scenario, we get there, find out it's just some creaky floorboards and call it a day."

He nodded slowly, the corners of his lips tugging upwards and forming a shy smile. "Yeah... Yeah, you're probably right."

"Of course I'm right, I'm always right." You smirked, and Tweek was sure you could hear his heartbeat.

"Aw, look at that!" Clyde teased from the front of the van, smirking as he was turned to fully look at you.

‘ Another idiot who didn't wear seatbelts... ’

"Tweek's got a little bodyguard!"

"Keep talking like that and I won't hesitate throwing you out the van." You warned him, your smirk fading away.

"Try it. I'll land on my feet."

"Can we stop fucking flirting and focus?" Cartman snapped, glaring at everyone in the rearview mirror. "We've got a job to do, assholes!"

"You're the only asshole here..." You muttered quietly.

"Maybe that's why it smells like ass." Craig added, earning a snicker from Stan.

.

.

.

.

The van shook along the lonely and bumpy road, the engine groaning with every turn of the wheels. The sun was slowly setting in, the once orange and pink sky darkening.

"Hey, uh... This thing is making weird noise." Stan pointed out.

"That's just the sound of your whining." Cartman shot back, his tone sarcastic.

"No, seriously." You spoke up, trying to glance at Cartman in the rearview mirror. "It's been getting louder for the last mile. Do you even know how to drive this thing?"

"Of course I know how to drive!" Cartman shouted, puffing out his chest. "I'm a naturally born leader. Driving's part of the package, asshole!"

"Leader of what? The loser unit?" Craig snorted.

Before Cartman could fire back and insult him, the van gave a violent shake. Everyone lunged forward as it came to an abrupt stop. The engine faltering as it made loud, roaring sounds before going completely silent.

"You've got to be kidding me." Kyle groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What happened?" Kenny asked as he looked around.

Cartman angrily twisted the key, but the engine only made clicking noises in response. "What the hell?!"

"I think your piece of crap van just died." Clyde pointed the obvious, earning a glare from Cartman.

"Shut up, you don't know anything about cars dumbass!" He yelled, practically shaking aggressively in his seat.

"And you do?" Stan raised an eyebrow, only making Cartman's face grow a darker shade of red from frustration.

"I know more than you!" Cartman shouted, slapping the steering wheel.

...

As you all piled out of the van, the reality of your situation started to sink in. The road stretched endlessly in both directions, and to add to the creepiness, the crickets started chirping as the sun lowered.

"This is bad..." Tweek muttered, clutching his bag tightly. "This is really bad..."

"It's fine." You assured him quickly, although your voice was a bit too loud to be entirely convincing. "We'll just figure it out, no big deal."

"No big deal?! We're stranded in the middle of nowhere! What if something's out there?!" Tweek glanced at you, eyes wide as his whole body trembled.

"There's nothing out there." You placed your hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch. Your gaze flickered nervously toward the dark trees. "Probably just squirrels or something..."

"Squirrels don't make weird noises at night..." He muttered, his voice shaky as he struggled to keep still.

Craig, standing a few feet away, sighed as he interrupted. "Relax. The only dangerous thing out here is Cartman's driving."

"Hey, screw you asshole!" Cartman barked loudly.

Ignoring him, your hand that was on Tweek's shoulder slowly trailed down to his arm, holding it, trying to steady him. "Look, we'll figure it out, okay? We're not gonna be stuck here forever."

"A-Alright... If you say so." Tweek nodded hesitantly, his breathing slowing a little.

For a moment, you felt pride knowing you managed to calm him down a bit. But then the stillness of the road, the sinister silence, the darkening sky... It was starting to creep you out. Before you knew it, the panic you've kept holding in all this time came rushing in.

"What if we are stuck here?" You blurted out quietly, the words coming out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. "What if no one finds us? What if-"

You felt a hand on your shoulder, the gentle gesture catching you off guard. You almost screamed, but you turned around before you did. You found Craig standing beside you, his usual bored expression replaced with a softer one.

"It's alright." He said simply, his voice low and steady.

You blinked at him, caught off guard.

"You're freaking yourself out." He added, his monotone voice oddly comforting. "It's not helping."

"I know that." You muttered, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Then calm down. We'll figure it out." He shrugged.

Despite his bluntness, his words seemed to make your heart race. You took a deep breath.

.

.

Cartman was pacing back and forth beside the van, muttering under his breath. "This is a disaster! A complete disaster! My mom's gonna get upset!"

"You mean because you stole her credit card?" Kyle asked dryly.

"Shut up you Jew!" Cartman snapped.

Stan kneeled down to check under the van, using one of Cartman's almost out of battery flashlights to light up the underside. "Looks like something's leaking." He pointed out, frowning.

"Oil?" Kenny asked, crouching beside him.

"Maybe. I'm not a mechanic."

"Well does anyone know how to fix it?" Clyde questioned, looking around hopefully.

You all glanced at each other, standing in complete silence other than the chirping crickets.

"Nope." Craig answered bluntly.

"Great." Kyle muttered, running a hand down his face. "Just great."

...

With no immediate solution, you all settled into an uneasy silence. Cartman sulked by the driver's door, muttering about how unfair the universe was. Stan and Kyle debated whether they should try to call for help, although they doubted anyone would come this far out. Tweek leaned on a rock near the edge of the road, his knee bouncing nervously.

You sat down beside him, staring at the van and the rest of the group, who were arguing like crazy. You still felt a little nervous, despite Craig's attempt at calming you down earlier. "How you holding up?" You asked.

"Better." Tweek admitted, though his voice was still shaky. "But this sucks."

"Yeah... It really does." You agreed.

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, watching the sky change from orange and pink to a depressing gray. Despite your situation, there was something oddly peaceful about the quiet.

"Thanks for earlier." Tweek mumbled suddenly, his voice softer than usual.

"For what?" You glanced at him, surprised.

"For, you know... Helping me calm down." He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. "That was pretty nice of you..."

You felt your cheeks warm up, but you quickly brushed it off. "Well, you've got my back too, right?"

Tweek smiled, the corners of his mouth twisting up in a way that made your heart skip a beat. "Yeah. Always."

.

.

You all gathered around the front of the van, flashlights in hand. The hood was popped open, revealing the engine that looked like it hasn't been properly maintained in decades.

Stan squinted at the mess, raising an eyebrow. "Okay, so... What exactly are we looking at here?"

"An engine." Craig replied, arms crossed.

"Yeah, thanks, genius." Kyle muttered, rolling his eyes. He leaned closer, frowning at the faint puddle forming beneath the van. "Something's definitely leaking."

"Maybe it's ghost juice." Cartman suggested, snickering at his own joke.

"No one asked you." Kyle snapped, shining his flashlight on the engine.

You sighed, leaning against the side of the van. "So... Does anyone actually know what they're doing?"

Everyone exchanged awkward glances, shrugging at each other.

"Not a clue." Clyde admitted.

"Fantastic." You muttered, your palm coming in contact with your forehead.

"I've seen my dad fix stuff like this before." Stan spoke up, though his tone wasn't exactly confident. "But we need tools."

"Tools?!" Cartman exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "What do you think this is, a Home Depot?! Where are we supposed to get tools in the middle of nowhere?!"

...

"So, what's the plan?" Clyde asked, leaning against the van.

"Plan?" Cartman scoffed. "The plan is you idiots fix the van while I supervise."

"Yeah, that's not happening." Kyle dismissed flatly.

"Wait..." Tweek spoke up, his voice slightly hesitant. "Does anyone have duct tape?"

You turned to him, furrowing your brows together. "What for?"

"Well..." He started, shifting nervously under everyone's gaze. "If it's just a leak, maybe we can patch it up enough to get moving again?"

"That... Actually might work." Stan nodded slowly.

"Great idea!" You praised, smiling at him.

Tweek blinked, his face turning a faint shade of pink. "Uh, thanks..."

"Fine. Who's got tape?" Cartman groaned.

...

After a bit of rummaging, you all managed to find duct tape in Kenny's backpack. You wouldn't dare ask why he had that on him, and it would be better if you didn't.

"This is ridiculous." Craig muttered, watching as Stan and Kyle debated the best way to 'fix' the leak.

"Do you have a better idea?" You asked, raising a brow.

"No. But this still feels stupid." He shrugged.

"Stupid or not, it's all we've got." Stan interrupted, crouching beside the van. "Alright, someone hand me the tape."

Kenny passed the roll as the rest of you watched Stan carefully tape over the leaking spot. "This should hold for a little while. Hopefully."

"Hopefully?!" Cartman exclaimed. "That's the best you've got?!"

"Unless you want to get under there and fix it yourself, yes." Stan shot back.

As Stan finished his makeshift repair, you leaned back against the van, glancing at Tweek. "I didn't expect you to figure out a solution."

"What do you mean?" Tweek tilted his head to the side, confused.

"I mean, that was a pretty great idea. You're full of surprises, huh?" You smiled, nodding towards the engine.

"I just... Didn't want to be stuck here all night." He replied nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as a smile tugged at his lips.

"Well, great job." You muttered.

Tweek chuckled, his usual nervousness temporarily forgotten. "Thanks."

"Alright!" Cartman shouted, clapping his hands. "Is this thing fixed or what?"

"Fixed enough." Stan replied, standing up and dusting off his hands. "But we should probably get moving before it gives out again."

"Great." Cartman said, already climbing into the driver's seat. "Get in, assholes!"

...

You all piled back in the van, the air still tense but slightly more hopeful. The engine came to life as the van moved forward, resuming its journey down the dark, lonely road.

"See? I told you we'd fix it." Cartman bragged, a smug grin on his face.

"You didn't do anything." Kyle pointed out.

"I supervised." Cartman shot back. "That's the most important part of any operation." His words earned a middle finger from Craig, which he of course, didn't ignore.

.

.

.

.

The van came to a stop just outside the towering DeLacroix mansion, and the sight alone was enough to make everyone fall silent. The place looked like it had been ripped straight out of a gothic horror movie. The iron gates creaked as they swung inward, revealing a front lawn with trimmed edges and a path of cobblestone leading to the massive double doors of the mansion. It looked and sounded like hell. No, seriously. The hinges of the gates screeched like tortured souls.

"Wow. They weren't kidding when they said they were loaded." Stan let out a low whistle.

Craig crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Looks like something out of a vampire movie. I'm expecting Dracula to pop up any second."

"This house is awesome!" Kenny beamed, his face lighting up. "It's like something out of those haunted mansion tours!"

"Yeah, well, it's probably just a glorified dust trap." Kyle shoved his hands in his pockets. "Rich people are weird..."

Cartman turned to glare at Kyle, pointing his thumb toward the mansion. "Rich people are our clients you fucking asshole! Now shut the fuck up and try not to embarrass me."

"Embarrass you?" Kyle snorted. "That's rich coming from the guy who got us abducted by aliens yet they still sent us back to Earth because of you."

"Okay now you're pushing it!" Cartman interrupted. "Face it, you're embarrassing all of us."

"Fuck you, fatass!"

Cartman ignored him, puffing out his chest and leading the group up the cobblestone path as if he was the CEO of some multimillion dollar ghost hunting operation.

Before anyone could knock, the heavy front doors creaked open as an elderly woman stepped out onto the grand porch. She was dressed elegantly in a deep emerald gown, her pearl necklace glinting in the fading sunlight. Her husband followed close behind. His tailored suit looked expensive, and his sharp features carried the kind of sterness that could make anyone feel like a misbehaving child.

The woman's eyes scanned you all, her expression both relieved and suspicious. "Oh, thank goodness you're here!" She exclaimed, her voice trembling as she hurried down the steps. "You have no idea how much time we have been waiting for a certain individual to assist us!"

The old man, however, was less excited. He frowned, scanning the group. "You're the ghost hunters?" He asked, his tone doubtful as he eyed you all. "You all look... Very young."

"Thanks, I moisturize." Craig spoke up.

Cartman stepped forward, giving Craig a glare before plastering a fake smile onto his face. "Youthfulness is what makes us the best in business." He replied, his tone was supposed to sound professional, but came off more like a used car salesman.

The old man remained unconvinced, his eyes narrowing as if he were searching for a hidden adult supervisor. "Are you even qualified for this?"

"Qualified?" Cartman repeated, placing a hand on his chest as if he was personally offended. "Sir, we're professionals. We've been in the business for years! Licensed, insured, you name it!"

"Insured against what? Getting caught in your lies?" Kyle muttered under his breath.

Cartman shot him a warning glare before turning back to the couple. "Now, why don't you tell us exactly what's going on, and we're gonna take care of it faster than you can say 'check, please'!"

The woman squeezed her own hands, glancing nervously at her husband before speaking. "It's been terrible. Absolutely terrible. Every night, we hear whispers in the halls. Sometimes it's a woman singing... So soft and yet so haunting... It feels like it's coming from nowhere and everywhere at once."

"And the doors." The old man added, adjusting his tie. "They slam shut on their own. Sometimes in the middle of the night, sometimes when we're standing right there. It's like we're not welcome in our own home."

"Maybe it's just bad hinges or the wind?" Keny tilted his head to the side.

The woman shot him a sharp look. "Does the wind whisper your name?"

"Depends on how much I've had to drink." Kenny muttered, earning a snicker from Craig.

The man's frown deepened. "This isn't a joke. Whatever is in that house... It isn't natural. And it's just getting worse."

"Don't worry, sir, ma'am." Cartman stepped forward with false confidence. "You called the right team. We've handled cases way scarier than this."

"Name one." Kyle challenged, crossing his arms.

Cartman ignored him, turning his attention back to the couple. "Now, let's talk about payment. We'll need half upfront for, uh, operational costs."

The woman's brows furrowed together. "Operational costs?"

"Yeah." Cartman replied smoothly. "You know, equipment, transportation, ghost insurance..."

"Ghost insurance?" The old man repeated, raising one of his bushy eyebrows.

"It's standard practice." Cartman said, waving off their confusion. "Ghost hunting is dangerous work. There's always a risk of possession, attacks, or ectoplasmic goo. We can't exactly do this for free, can we?"

"Oh my God Cartman, stop scamming people." Stan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Scamming people?" Cartman repeated, acting offended. Technically, he was. "This is a legitimate business transaction. Now, if you're done interrupting, let the professionals handle this."

The woman sighed, clearly too exhausted to argue. She reached into her purse, pulling out a checkbook. "Fine. You'll get $100 now and the rest when the job is done."

"Pleasure doing business with you." Cartman smirked, snatching the check before anyone else could.

The man gestured toward the house, his expression grumpy. "Do whatever you need to. Just get rid of it."

Cartman turned to the rest of you, clapping his hands together. "Alright assholes, you heard the man! Gear up and get to work!"

Craig rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to flip Cartman off. "I'm only doing this because I need the money."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Cartman waved him off. "Now let's get moving! Time is money!"

As you all started gathering your 'equipment', you exchanged a glance with Tweek, who was fidgeting nervously.

"Come on, I'm sure it's fine." You cut through the silence, making Tweek flinch.

"Y-Yeah, I'm sure it's alright... But this place gives me goosebumps..." He replied, his voice shaky as his eyes darted everywhere.

"We can use Cartman as a shield." You shrugged, looking over your shoulder to see Cartman shouting at everyone.

Tweek chuckled, his shoulder relaxing a bit. "I-If it's an actual ghost, I'm running back to the van and leaving without the rest of you."

"You're leaving me behind?" You raised your brows, gasping dramatically.

"I'll take you with me." Tweek shrugged, the corners of his lips tugging upwards and forming a shy smile.

You could feel your pulse quickening, but you chose to ignore the feeling and hurry up, since Cartman was already fuming.

...

The old woman held the door open as you all stumbled inside, the creak of the heavy wooden door echoing around the mansion. The interior of the DeLacroix mansion was just as massive as the exterior, if not more so. A huge chandelier hung from the high ceiling, its crystals catching the light from the several candles on numerous shelves. The walls were lined with dark wood, and a thick red rug stretched across the polished floor. Everything about the place screamed wealth, but there was something... Off about it.

You couldn't put your finger on it. Maybe it was the faint mouldy smell, or the way the shadows seemed to stretch a little too far.

"Well..." The old woman started, folding her hands in front of her. "We'll let you get to it. My husband and I will be in the kitchen if you need anything."

"Tea." The old man added, narrowing his eyes as they scanned over the group once more. "We'll be making tea. And don't think for a second we won't notice if something goes missing."

"Sir." Cartman started, putting a hand to his chest. "I'll have you know that we run a very professional operation. Stealing? That's beneath us."

"Uh-huh." The old man replied, his tone still doubtful as he ran his eyes across you all with a suspicious look. He turned to his wife. "Come on, let's leave them to it before I change my mind."

As the couple disappeared down the hall, Cartman turned back to you all, his fake professional demeanor dropping in an instant. "Alright, listen up fuckers. Rule number one, nobody wanders off alone. Got it?"

"What are we, five?" Craig raised an eyebrow.

"No!" Cartman snapped. "But you all have the attention span of toddlers, and I'm not gonna lose my $200 payday because one of you morons gets lost or spooked and runs screaming out the door."

"Oh, please. Nobody here actually believes in ghosts. Right?" Kyle crossed his arms.

"I don't know, dude. Places like these always have weird vibes." Kenny shrugged.

Tweek shivered, glancing around nervously. "I mean... It's just a house, right? A really big, creepy, probably haunted house, but still... Just a house."

"Exactly." You cut in, offering him a reassuring look. "There's nothing to be scared of."

Before anyone could respond, a loud SLAM echoed through the mansion. The sound came from the second floor, sharp and intentional, like someone had thrown a door shut with all their strength.

Everyone froze, exchanging uneasy glances.

"Uh... What was that?" Stan asked, his voice low.

Cartman let out a nervous laugh. "Probably the wind. Or, you know, old houses make weird noises all the time!"

"Yeah, sure." Kyle muttered. "Because the wind totally sounds like a fucking door being slammed shut."

"Great plan, genius." Craig interrupted, looking at Cartman. "Let's all just split up already and investigate the creepy murder mansion."

"We're not splitting up!" Cartman snapped. "Were you not listening five seconds ago? We stick together and do this room by room. Now shut up and follow my lead."

"Your lead?" Kyle scoffed. "Oh, this is gonna be good."

"Would you just shut your damn Jew mouth and grab your flashlight?" Cartman shot back, ready stomping toward the huge staircase.

As the rest of you followed, the harsh silence of the mansion seemed to press in from all sides. The only sounds were the creak of the floorboard beneath your feet and the occasional drip of water from God knows where.

You glanced at Tweek, who was clutching his flashlight as if his life depended on it. "You look scared. Are you okay?"

"Yeah!" He replied, his voice toi high pitched to be convincing. "Totally fine. Just, uh... Keeping an eye out for... Y-You know, ghost stuff..."

"You sound just like Cartman." You pointed out, which made Tweek shoot you a glare.

"Don't compare me to that fatass." He mumbled under his breath.

"Yeah, I probably shouldn't." You shrugged, continuing to step beside him.

Tweek's eyes darted around, examining the place. "That slam... It was definitely the wind..." His hands trembled as his grip tightened on his flashlight.

You couldn't help but smile at his attempt to convince himself. "Right. The wind. Because the wind definitely has the power to slam a door with enough force to rattle the whole house."

Tweek groaned, running a hand through his hair and fighting the urge to pull on it. "Okay, fine, i-it was weird. But it's probably nothing. Probably..."

"Exactly." You agreed, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "No need to panic. Not yet, anyway."

As you reached the top of the stairs, Cartman stopped abruptly, causing everyone to nearly collide into each other.

"Alright." Cartman started, pointing toward the hallway ahead. "Here's the plan, we check each room, starting from the left, and work our way down. Got it?"

"Who died and made you boss?" Stan muttered.

"My superior intellect did!" Cartman shot back. "Now shut up and start looking."

The first few rooms were uneventful. A guest bedroom with dusty furniture, a study filled with old books and strange ornaments and a bathroom with a cracked mirror. Everything looked like it hadn't been touched in years, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"See?" Kyle said as he gestured to the very normal surroundings. "Nothing spooky. Just a big, creepy old house."

"Yeah, because ghosts totally introduce themselves on the first time." Kenny teased.

As you passed what appeared to be another bedroom, something on the nightstand caught your eye. It was a small, golden music box. You almost entered the room, sitting right by the door. You wanted to reach out and touch it, but before you could even fully step inside, Cartman's voice cut through.

"Don't touch anything!" He barked, making you jump.

"What? Why not?" You questioned, turning to glare at him, stepping away from the door.

"Because." He started, puffing out his chest. "This is a delicate operation. We can't have you breaking stuff and getting us kicked out before we get paid."

"Or..." Craig interrupted. "Maybe he's just scared you'll unleash a ghost or something."

"Shut up, crooked teeth!" Cartman shot him a dirty look.

"I had braces you fucking fatass." Craig shouted, yet somehow his voice was still monotone.

"Well maybe you should consider getting them again!"

Before anyone could argue further, another door slammed somewhere in the house, but this time it was much closer.

"Okay, that's it!" Tweek spoke up, his voice shaking. "I don't care i-if it's the wind or a fucking ghost, I-I don't like this!"

"Relax." You replied, trying to sound calm even if your pulse quickened. "It's probably just... I don't know, the house settling or something."

"Sure." Kyle interrupted sarcastically. "Because houses totally 'settle' by slamming door randomly."

Cartman turned to the group, his face slightly pale but his voice firm. "Alright, new rule, nobody touches anything unless I say so. Got it?"

"Just lead us to the next boring room so we can get this over with." Craig rolled his eyes.

As Cartman reluctantly led the group out of the bedroom, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching you.

.

.

You all stood in the barely lit hallway of the second floor, the air heavy with the scent of old wood and dust. The mansion's silence was brutal, broken only by the faint creaks and groans of the house settling. Several doors lined the hall, their chipped paint adding to the unsettling vibe.

Cartman pointed to the nearest door, puffing out his chest like he was a drill sergeant. "Alright pussies, we're hitting this room next. Be ready for anything."

"Yeah, like the world's most haunted dust collection. Can we just get this over with?" Kyle sighed, crossing his arms.

"Don't be such a fucking buzz kill!" Cartman snapped. "This is serious business."

Before anyone could respond, a faint whispering sound drifted through the hallway.

"D-Do you guys h-hear that...?" Tweek asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes darted around, his grip tightened on his flashlight.

"Stop messing around." Kyle glared at Cartman, his tome stern. "It's obviously you trying to scare everyone."

"Me?!" Cartman yelled out, clearly offended. "I'm not wasting my energy on scaring you losers. I've got $200 on the line here!"

The whispering grew louder, clearer nos, although the words were impossible to make out. It was like a dozen voices overlapping, murmuring in a language none of them recognized.

"Okay, who's doing that?" Stan asked, his voice shaky. He glanced over his shoulder, his flashlight beam darting across the empty hallway.

"It's not me." Kenny said as he stepped closer to the rest of you. "That's creepy as hell..."

"Very funny, Cartman." Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice sounding irritated. "You can cut it out now."

"For the last time, it's not me!" Cartman practically hissed.

The whispering came to a sudden stop, leaving a sinister silence in its place.

"See?" Craig broke the silence flatly, flipping Cartman off. "This is why I don't do this stupid ghost hunting crap. It's always the handsome guy who gets killed first in horror movies."

"Oh, please." Clyde interrupted, his voice slightly trembling. "If anyone's dying first, it's probably me. I'm the perfect victim for a true crime documentary."

"Shut up, Clyde!" Cartman shouted, but his voice sounded nervous.

Before anyone could laugh or argue, the overhead lights flickered once, twice, and then went out completely.

"Holy shit!" Tweek yelped, grabbing onto your arm.

"What the hell just happened?" Kyle asked, his voice tense.

The hallway was swallowed by darkness, the only source of light coming from the faint beam of your flashlights. Then came the sound of floorboards creaking, slow and careful, as if someone or something was walking toward you.

"Who's there?" Stan called out, his voice cracking.

No one answered, but the sound grew louder and closer. Then, soft singing began to echo through the hallway.

It was a woman's voice, melodic and haunting, the kind of sound that made your stomach drop and skin crawl. The song was low, the words incoherent but the tone sorrowful.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God..." Tweek muttered under his breath, his nails digging into your arm.

You tried to say something reassuring, but the words stuck in your throat. Your flashlight beam darted around the hallway, revealing nothing but empty space.

"This... Isn't funny." Kenny spoke up, his usual tone replaced by genuine fear.

"Okay, everyone stay calm." Cartman said, trying to sound reassuring and professional but failing miserably. "It's just... It's probably just... Uh..."

"Yeah, fatass." Kyle snapped. "What's your brilliant explanation for this one?"

Before Cartman could answer, the singing stopped as suddenly as if had started, and the lights flickered back on.

You all stood frozen, your breaths coming out in short, shaky gasps.

"What the actual hell was that?" Stan asked, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't know." You admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

"I'll tell you what it was." Cartman straightened up, trying to regain his composure. "It was nothing. You guys are just freaking yourselves out for no reason."

"Nothing?" Kyle repeated, his eyes wide. "The lights went out, we heard footsteps and singing, and you're calling that nothing?"

"Yeah." Cartman nodded, crossing his arms. "Because ghosts aren't real. And even if they were, they're not screwing up my $200 payday. So, suck it up and get back to work!"

"Screw this." Craig cut in sharply, turning toward the stairs. "I'm out. I've seen enough movies to know where this is going, and I'm not sticking around to be ghost bait."

"Oh, great idea, Craig." Cartman scowled. "Run off and leave the rest of us to deal with it."

"You're acting like I care." Craig replied, flipping Cartman off again. "Have fun getting haunted."

"Wait for me!" Clyde rushed by Craig's side. "I am not dying in some cursed mansion. Do you know how many unsolved mystery podcasts start like this?"

"Come on, we can't just bail. We don't even know what's going on yet." You tried to convince them, voice shaky. If you were honest, you were only doing that so you could push them into whatever's chasing you, just to buy you time.

"Exactly!" Cartman pointed at you. "Finally, someone with some common sense!"

Tweek glanced at you, his voice barely above a whisper. "You really think we should stay?"

You hesitated for a moment before nodding, even if you weren't entirely sure yourself.

‘ They can probably run faster than you... At least there's Cartman. ’

"We've come this far. We might as well see it through." You shrugged, hoping they'd listen.

Stan sighed, his eyes narrowing. "Fine. But if another light goes out, I'm seriously done."

Kyle gave you a long look, his expression unreadable. "You sure about this?"

No, you weren't sure. Not at all. But you forced yourself to nod. "Yeah. Let's keep going."

Cartman clapped his hands together, a fake grin plastered on his face. "See? Teamwork makes the dream work! Now let's move it assholes!"

As you all reluctantly followed Cartman further down the hallway, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching you.

And whatever it was, it didn't feel friendly.

.

.

You all lazily stood in the hallway for a moment longer, still shook after the sinister singing and flickering lights. The harsh silence of the house pressed down on you, and even Cartman's usual ramble seemed muted.

Stan broke the silence with a half hearted chuckle. "Okay, seriously, what kind of ghost sings? Is this like... Phantom of the Opera?"

"Yeah, maybe she's just auditioning for Broadway." Kenny snorted.

Cartman rolled his eyes. "Yeah, laugh it up, you pussies. Meanwhile, I'm trying to stay professional so we can get paid."

"Professional?" Craig repeated, his monotone voice dripping with sarcasm. "You've been sweating like shit and yelling at everyone since we got here."

"Shut the fuck up!" Cartman snapped. "Not everyone can be a soulless robot like you!"

Craig gave him the middle finger without even looking, his gaze fixed on the cracked ceiling. "Whatever."

Tweek tugged at the collar of his shirt, his shoulders tense. "Can we just move on? Standing in the hallway is making my skin crawl."

"Yeah." You agreed, glancing toward one of the nearby bedroom doors. "Let's check that one out. Maybe we'll find something useful."

"Or maybe we'll find more dust and spiders." Kyle muttered, though he followed you toward the door.

You all walked into the room cautiously, you flashlights darting across the space. It was a large bedroom, clearly once belonging to someone with expensive taste. The bed was massive, covered in faded sheets, the walls lined with mirrors. A heavy wardrobe stood in one corner, its doors slightly opened, a layer of dust coating every surface.

"This is... Creepy." Kenny whispered, shining his light on one of the dusty mirrors.

"Yeah, no thanks." Stan added. "This place screams tetanus."

Clyde, who has been quiet all this time, suddenly let out a blood curdling scream.

"What?!" Cartman shouted, spinning around.

"There's something on me! There's something on me!" Clyde screeched, flailing his arms wildly.

A large spider crawled up his sleeve, its legs moving across the fabric. Clyde's face went pale as he bolted across the room, swatting at himself like he was actually possessed.

"Get it off! Get it off!" He cried out.

"Dude, stop moving!" Stan yelled, trying to grab his arm.

"Hold still, idiot!" You added, but Clyde wasn't listening.

He stumbled into the wardrobe, rattling it loudly and sending a cloud of dust into the air. The spider, unfazed by the commotion, crawled onto Clyde's shoulder.

"Oh my God, it's still there!" Clyde whined, spinning in circles.

Kenny stepped forward, holding his flashlight like a weapon. "Calm down, I'll get it!"

Before anyone could do anything else, Clyde smacked his own shoulder with enough force to knock the spider to the ground. It ran away quickly, disappearing under the bed.

"There!" Clyde gasped, attempting to calm himself down as he clutched his chest. "It's gone! It's gone!"

"You're such a baby." Cartman smirked. "It was just a spider."

"Yeah, well I didn't see you rushing to help." Clyde shot back, his face still pale.

"Wait." You interrupted, pointing toward the door. "Did anyone else hear that?"

The room fell silent, everyone going quiet to listen. The it came, a faint creak, followed by the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut.

"Holy shit!" Tweek yelped, his eyes wide.

Kenny ran to the door, twisting the knob. "It's not locked." He let out a breath of relief. "But what the hell shut it?"

"Maybe the wind?" Stan sugested, though he didn't sound convinced.

"Yeah, definitely." Craig rolled his eyes, leaning on the wall with his hands shoved in his pockets. "The wind. In a house with no open windows. Makes total sense."

"Okay Mr. Unfazed, then what's your brilliant explanation?" Cartman snapped.

"Ghosts." Craig answered flatly. "Obviously."

"Ghosts aren't real." Kyle sighed, knowing damn well that he was just trying to calm himself down. "We've been over this."

"Then why are you sweating?" Craig shot back, a rare smirk on his face.

Kyle glared at him, but didn't respond.

"Can we please just investigate and get out of here?" You spoke up, breaking the tension.

The group hesitantly agreed, spreading around to search the room. Cartman stayed near the door, muttering to himself about 'stupid amateurs ruining his paycheck', while the rest of you examined the furniture and walls.

As you ran your flashlight along the far wall, you heard a faint knocking sound.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat.

"Did you guys hear that?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Hear what?" Stan asked, looking up from the dresser he was investigating.

The knocking came again, this time louder.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"It's coming from the next room." Tweek noted, his voice trembling.

"Great." Clyde muttered. "More creepy noises. Just what we needed..."

Then, faint but unmistakable, came the sound of singing.

It was the same voice from before, soft and melodic, the kind of sound that made you shiver.

"Okay, nope." Clyde shook his head, backing toward the door. "I'm officially done. Screw this!"

"You're not leaving!" Cartman snapped, blocking the exit. "I don't care how scared you are. We're staying until we figure this out."

"Easy for you to say." Stan muttered. "You get to stay far away from the sound. You're not the one who has to listen to this creepy ass singing!"

You all fell silent again, the singing growing louder. It seemed to echo through the walls, wrapping around you like a cold but invisible hand.

"Alright..." Kyle broke the silence, his shoulders tense. "Let's just finish checking this room and move on. The faster we're done, the faster we can leave."

You nodded, though your hands were shaking slightly. You continued your search, but the tension in the room was evident and uneasy, every creak and whisper sending chills down your spine.

The hallway leading to the next room seemed suspiciously quiet, almost as of the house itself was holding its breath. You all hesitated in front of the door, your flashlights waving around.

"This is the last door on this side." You broke the silence. "Let's get this over with."

Cartman groaned, stepping forward with exaggerated confidence. "Step aside, amateurs. Watch the professional work."

He grabbed the doorknob and twisted, but the door didn't budge. "What the hell?" He grunted, twisting it harder. "It's stuck!"

"Maybe it's locked." Stan suggested, leaning closer.

"It's not locked!" Cartman snapped. "It's just being a piece of shit!"

"Let me try." Kenny offered, stepping forward. Together, the two of them pushed and pulled on the door, but it refused to give.

"Move." Craig warned, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He gave the door a single hard kick, and with a loud creak, it swung open, revealing a barely lit room.

"Damn." You whispered, biting your bottom lip for a quick second as Craig just raised an eyebrow at you.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side." Clyde muttered.

Craig shrugged, his flashlight scanning the room. "You'd have to actually interest me for that to happen."

The rest of you stepped inside cautiously, your flashlights lighting up the room, revealing dust covered furniture and faded wallpaper. The room was large but cluttered, with a table, a tall wardrobe, and a canopy bed draped in pretty curtains. What caught everyone's attention, however, were the framed photos scattered across the room.

"Whoa..." You whispered, picking one of the many pictures up from a shelf. The photo was black and white, the edges yellowed with age.

The woman in the picture looked elegant, her hazel eyes shining even through the faded photograph. A small mole under her left eye added a touch of uniqueness to her already stunning features, and her smile was warm and inviting.

"Is that her?" Tweek asked, leaning over your shoulder to get a better look. "The ghost?"

"Probably." Kyle shrugged, picking up another photo from another shelf. "She looks... Different than what I expected."

"Yeah." Stan agreed. "Not your typical creely ghost lady."

"Don't let the pictures fool you." Kenny informed, smirking. "The nice ones are always the scariest."

Cartman snorted, shoving past everyone to examine the photos himself. "You bitches are so easily impressed. It's just a bunch of old pictures. Big deal."

As if on cue, a soft melody began playing from the corner of the room. Everyone froze in their spot.

"What the hell is that?" Clyde whispered, his voice trembling.

You turned toward the source of the sound, your flashlight landing on a small, golden box sitting on the nightstand. The same one you so badly wanted to touch earlier. Its lid was open, revealing a delicate ballerina figure spinning slowly to the tune.

"Nope." You sighed immediately, shaking your head. "I am not doing this."

Before anyone could stop you, you marched over to the music box and snapped the lid shut. The melody stopped abruptly, leaving the room silent.

"[Y/N]..." Kyle started, his tone cautious and soft. "Maybe you shouldn't-"

The lights went out.

A harmonized gasp filled the room, followed by the sound of stumbling feet and hurried whispers.

"Who turned off the lights?" Cartman demanded, his voice high pitched with panic.

"No one!" Stan hissed. "Just stay calm-"

A blood curdling scream tore through the darkness, so loud and piercing that it felt like it was coming from inside your own head.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Clyde screamed, practically climbing onto Kenny for protection.

The floorboard beneath you groaned, the heavy and slow footsteps closer. Then came the banging, loud, frantic and relentless, echoing through and off the walls as if the entire house was alive.

"Get me out of here!" Tweek shouted, his voice cracking as he clung to the nearest person, which happened to be you.

"I can't see anything!" Kyle yelled, his flashlight flickering wildly in his hands.

"Move bitches, move your fucking asses!" Cartman screamed, his usual confidence and braveness completely gone.

Just as suddenly as it had started, the chaos stopped. The lights flickered back on as everyone stood frozen, your breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

"Is everyone okay?" Stan asked, his voice shaking.

"I think so..." You mumbled, your hands trembling. "But what the hell was that?"

"Uh... Guys..." Kenny trailed off, his voice unusually serious. "Look at the mirrors."

You turned slowly, your heart thumping in your chest as you took in the sight. Every mirror in the room was cracked, crazy and uneven lines scattered across their surface.

And then you saw her.

She stood near the music box, her once beautiful face twisted into an expression of pure rage. Her white dress was stained with dirt, her hair a tangled mess that hung over her milky white eyes. The pearl necklace from the photos was now dangling loosely around her neck, cracked in several places.

No one spoke. No one even dared to move.

The ghost's gaze scanned over each one of you, her presence suffocating and cold.

"Oh shit..." Clyde whispered, his voice barely audible.

Cartman, of all people, was the fist to completely break the silence. He pointed an accusing finger at you.

"[Y/N], you dumb bitch!" He shouted. "I told you not to touch anything!"

...

Cartman took a cautious step forward, his flashlight flickering as he raised it toward her ghostly figure. His confidence was shaky at best, but he puffed out his chest in a pitiful attempt to seem in control.

"Alright, listen up, you decrepit old hag!" He barked, his voice cracking slightly. "I don't know who you are, but you're messing with licensed professionals here!"

She didn't react, her sinsiter and unblinking gaze fixed on them.

"Cartman, shut up!" Kyle hissed, gripping his flashlight tightly.

"No, no, I've got this!" Cartman insisted, waving a hand dismissively. He turned back to the ghost, narrowing his eyes. "You think you're scary? I've seen scarier things come out of Kenny's microwave! You look like you crawled out of a sewer and then got hit by a truck! What are you, part of the teenage mutant turtles?!"

The lights flickered violently, the room growing colder and more suffocating with each passing second. The ghost's head tilted slightly, her form trembling as if she was barely holding back her anger.

"Dude, stop!" Stan warned, his voice tense.

But Cartman was on a roll. "Oh, what's the matter? Did your ugly little music box break? Is that why you're so pissed off? Newsflash lady, nobody even uses music boxes anymore. Get with the times!"

As he spat out insult after insult, you noticed something. The ghost wasn't moving closer to Cartman despite her obvious anger. Instead, her transparent form seemed to stand close to the music box sitting on the nightstand.

"Wait..." Stan muttered under his breath, his brows furrowed together. "It's the music box, she's guarding it!"

You blinked, glancing between Stan and the ghost. "You think that's what's keeping her there?"

"She's not moving away from the music box, no matter how much Cartman screams at her." Stan whispered. "It has to mean something..."

"Cartman, keep her distracted!" Stan suddenly called out, his mind racing as he pieced together a plan.

Cartman turned, looking both insulted and confused. "Distracted? I'm trying to banish her, dipshit! Do you know how much skill that takes?!"

"Just do it!" Stan snapped.

Cartman huffed but turned back to the ghost. "Oh, so now you're just gonna stare at me like some creepy doll? You think that's intimidating? I've seen scarier things in the mirror every morning! Wait, that doesn't sound right..."

While Cartman continued judging her, Stan crept toward the music box, moving as quietly as he could. The rest of you held your breath, your eyes darting between Stan and the ghost. Her gaze remained locked on Cartman, though her form flickered as if sensing Stand presence near the box.

"Just grab it already!" Clyde whispered harshly.

Stan's hands shook as he reached for the music box. His fingers barely grazed the lid when all of the sudden the ghost's head snapped toward him, her milky white eyes narrowing.

"Shit." Stan gasped, making eye contact with the ghost as he froze completely. "Run!" He shouted, yanking the music box off the nightstand.

The ghost let out another blood curdling scream, the sound so loud and piercing it felt like it was drilling into your skull. The lights flickered wildly, sending the room into bursts of darkness and light.

"Move, bitch!" You yelled, grabbing Clyde's arm and shoving him toward the door.

You all bolted out of the room in a frantic scramble, tripping over each other as you sprinted down the hallway. The walls seemed to shake with the ghost's rage, her screams echoing behind you.

"She's following us!" Tweek cried out, his voice trembling as he clung to you arm.

"Don't look back!" Stan yelled, clutching the music box tightly as he led the rest of you down the stairs.

You all rushed into the hall, nearly knocking over a decorative vase. The kitchen door creaked open slightly, and for a split second, you caught a glimpse of the old couple sipping tea at the table, unaware of the chaos unfolding just a few feet away.

"We're gonna die, and they're drinking fucking tea!" Clyde whined, almost tripping over the rug.

"Shut up and keep running!" Kyle snapped, shoving him toward the front doors.

You all burst into the garden, the cool night air hitting your face like a splash of water. Your eyes darted around wildly, taking in the small graveyard sat at the edge of the property.

"Her grave!" Stan panted, doubling over as he tried to catch his breath. "We need to find her grave!"

The rest of you stared at the rows of headstones, the glow of the moon softly shining on them.

"There's too many of them!" Clyde cried. "We don't even know her name! How are we supposed to-"

"There!" Stan pointed to a headstone near the center, the name 'Mary DeLacroix' carved into the stone. "I saw her name on an open notebook, on the table [Y/N] found the first photo! At least I think that's her!" He panted, barely breathing.

He took a step forward but hesitated, his hands shaking as he held out the music box.

"I can't do it..." He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I-I'll mess it up!"

Stan didn't think, he just threw the music box into your arms. There wasn't much you could say, especially because of the state you were in. You quickly bolted toward Mary's grave.

"Wait, you can't just-" Tweek shouted after you, panicking as he saw you complying instead of throwing the music box into someone else's hands.

The tiny metal gate surrounding the graveyard clattered as you jumped over it, the music box clutched tightly in your hands. Behind you, Mary's screams grew louder, her ghostly form tearing through the garden.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you reached her grave, nearly tripping over your own feet. Dropping to your knees, you placed the music box gently on top of the headstone, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Please work..." You whispered, your voice trembling. "If it doesn't, I swear I'll posses Stan and jump off a bridge..."

You turned around, seeing Mary's form exactly in front of you, inches away from you, her once beautiful face twisted with rage. Her hands were raised as if she was about to strike, but the miment her eyes landed on the music box, she froze. You swore you've seen this sight in a FNAF game before.

The air around you grew still, the harsh weight of her presence lifting slightly. Mary's angry expression softened, her ghostly form flickering as she reached out toward the music box.

Her fingers grazed it lightly. "Thank you..." She whispered, her voice barely audible.

Before you could respond, her form began to disintegrate, her body breaking apart into specks of light that drifted upward like fireflies. The garden grew silent once more, the only sound being the rustling leaves in the night breeze.

Your shoulders relaxed a bit, still sitting down on the grass, your hands trembling as you tried to catch your breath.

The rest of the group rushed over, their faces a mix of relief and awe.

"Holy shit!" Kyle panted, helping you to your feet. "You actually did it!"

"Damn right she did." Kenny teased, smacking you on the back playfully.

"Nice work..." Tweek added, giving you a shy smile.

Cartman, of course, had to ruin the moment. "Yeah, yeah, great job [Y/N]. But let's not forget who kept that bitch distracted in the first place. If it weren't for me, you'd all be dead!"

Craig flipped him off. "You're welcome, fatass."

Clyde let out a shaky laugh, his hands still trembling. "We're never doing this again, right? Right?"

"Don't bet on it." Kyle muttered, glancing back at the house as he kept his hand on your shoulder.

For the first time that night, you allowed yourself to relax, a small smile tugging at your lips. Mary was gone, and for now, you were safe.

...

You all walked back to the mansion, adrenaline slowly giving away to exhaustion. Tweek clung to you, his eyes darting around nervousness as if expecting Mary to reappear at any moment.

"Holy shit..." Clyde muttered, breaking the silence. "We just... Banished a ghost. Like, an actual, real ghost."

Kyle let out a shaky breath, running a hand down his face. "Yeah, and I'm still trying to process how any of this is real. Ghosts aren't supposed to exist."

"Guess what, Kyle?" Cartman started, his voice smug as he spun around to face the rest of you. "We're officially professional ghost hunters now. You all doubted me, but I just led us through a successful exorcism. So, you're welcome!"

"You didn't do shit." Stan shot back. "All you did was piss her off."

"And distract her!" Cartman added, puffing his chest out. "You think she'd have stood there like an idiot if I wasn't verbally destroying her? Face it, Stan, you're just mad because I'm the brains if this operation."

"Brains?" Craig repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I'd argue you're the ass of this operation." Kenny snickered and nudged Craig's shoulder.

Cartman ignored them, waving a dismissive hand as he marched ahead. "You losers can make all the jokes you want, but when people hear about our success, we're gonna be rolling in cash. And you'll all owe it to me!"

Tweek let out a nervous chuckle. "I still can't believe any of t-this. Like... Ghosts? R-Real ghosts?" He glanced at you, his eyes wide. "Did you hear her say 'thank you' at the end? Or was I just hallucinating?"

"I heard it too. She seemed... Less scary in the end. Almost peaceful." You shrugged, offering him a small smile.

"Nah, I think you're both just schizophrenic." Cartman interrupted.

"Peaceful?" Clyde repeated, his voice still shaky. "She was about to kill us five minutes ago!"

"Yeah, well, maybe that's because Cartman kept calling her Master Splinter or something." You shot back with a grin.

"It was the teenage mutant ninja turtles you fucking bitch! Get it right next time!" Cartman snapped.

He spun on his heel, pointing an accusing finger at you. "And don't act like you didn't touch the music box! If anything, this is all your fault!"

"Yeah, yeah." You rolled your eyes. "And who was it that ran straight to her grave and banished her? Oh, right, me."

The tension eased slightly as the mansion came into view. The warm glow of the windows was oddly comforting after the chilling events that had just happened moments ago.

As you stepped inside, the old couple was waiting in the hall, their expressions curious but calm.

"Ah, you're back!" The old woman clasped her hands together. "We were wondering if you left already."

"Left?" Kyle repeated, his eyes wide and voice surprised. "How did you not hear what was happening out there? The screaming? The running? The lights flickering?"

The old man raised an eyebrow, his face wrinkling into a suspicious frown. "Screaming? Flickering lights? What are you talking about?"

Cartman groaned, slapping his forehead. "Of course you didn't hear it. You were too busy sipping tea while we were out there risking our lives!"

The old woman's expression softened, her gaze darting between you all. "Well, whatever happened, it seems you even managed to get rid of her. The house feels... Lighter now. Thank you."

She reached into her purse and pulled out a small envelope. "Here's the other $100 we agreed on. And..." She hesitated, glancing at her husband, who nodded reluctantly. "Here's an extra $50 for your trouble. You've truly done us service."

Cartman snatched the envelope before anyone else could, grinning ear to ear. "See? I told you we'd get paid! This is what happens when you follow my lead."

"Dude, you did nothing." Stan crossed his arms.

"Nothing? Nothing?!" Cartman barked, waving the envelope in Stan's face. "Who do you think convinced them to pay us extra? My charisma! My leadership! My-"

"Your massive ego?" Craig interrupted.

"That too." Kenny added with a snicker.

The old couple exchanged a glance, clearly unsure of what to make of your group. "Well..." The old man cleared his throat. "We'll leave you to it. Thank you again for your help."

As they disappeared into the kitchen, Cartman turned to the rest of you, his grin widening. "You guys realize what this means, right? We're gonna be rich. This ghost hunting gig is our ticket to the big league!"

"I don't know if I'd call almost dying a gig." You sighed, shaking your head.

You pushed the heavy wooden doors open, walking outside as the cold night air hit your skin once more. The rest of the group followed along, walking back to your van.

"But it was kinda fun." Clyde admitted, a small smile forming onto his face. "I mean, terrifying, but... Fun?"

"Exactly!" Cartman exclaimed. "This is just the beginning. We're gonna take this town by storm! Ghosts, demons, you name it, we'll hunt it!"

"Please don't tell me you're serious." Kyle groaned.

"Dead serious." Cartman replied bluntly, his expression even more stern now.

Kenny leaned against the side of the van, his hands shoved into his pockets. "So, uh... Raisins?"

★yoyomiko ★miko

[beigale-shtuchim]

Look at me I am boycotting eurovision!!!!11! #eurovision #eurovision2024 #eurovision24 #esc #esc24 #esc2024 #israel eurovision #look at this #look at eurovision #israel #eurovision singing contest #did i mention eurovision #antisemitism

[icewindandboringhorror]

"We can get through this by working together, reach out to your friends, community is all we have, a social network will be your security in the world, now is the time to lean on others!"

I do agree, and it's scientifically sound (pretty sure there is data about how people with better social networks live longer and etc) but also....augh..... what about the severe social issues, difficulty to leave the house, physical issues which lead to like zero socialization energy a majority of the time, etc. etc. Social support can be a replacement for structural support, but.. I guess I just wish it didn't have to be. Community is extremely difficult to build, even moreso if you're someone who has issues with social cues or group conversations or even just being around others in the first place. And blah, nuance, of course I'm just complaining or maybe being too negative or maybe misunderstanding, but, I hardly have the energy to brush my hair once every 2 months.. how am I supposed to maintain a wide social network and be active in a Community and Join Groups lol... sometimes it kind of feels like "er.. well if thats my only option then...... ruh roh". It's overwhelming

[buttercup-art]

hey

[waywardsalt]

with my phantom hourglass replay, there are two things i noticed;

a possible theme you could glean from the game is action vs inaction, and i think it's especially prevalent before you even leave mercay the first time, with oshus frequently urging link to not go after the ghost ship, then to just wait until the broken bridge is fixed, and seems reluctant at every turn while link and ciela are more than eager to go and do something about this problem, and the people of mercay in general talking about things and their problems but never seeming to act on their fears or desires, as well as the mention that due to the ghost ship, very very few people are still sailing around, while linebeck is one of the only people we see in the game actively going after the ghost ship and still sailing around. i might make a longer post just talking more about the action vs inaction in phantom hourglass but i just noticed it a bit and thought it was a bit of an interesting sort of theme you could find in the game.

linebeck moves so fucking much. i think he moves more than any npc in the rest of the game. not just in his intro cutscene where he is very animated, just in how much he moves when just standing in his little idle post, it's damn near distracting when the camera is focused on him, he moves a lot. i don't think i've really acknowledged how much he moves, and it really gives the impression that he's antsy or eager to get going, both of which fit him pretty well with how he acts.

[arolesbianism]

Shakes and cries I wanna make Jackie parent hc designs but I can't because potentially one of them is a prevalent character now and her ass has not spoken a single line yet so I both know nothing and can't just start making shit up yet </3333

[xcziel]

.

[gimmick-blog-bracket]

@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@making-you-in-spore

Incredible works of art from a limited medium, the blog favors quality over quantity and I am always in awe when a dancing creacher in Spore [2008] crosses my dash.

His spores often take him multiple hours to create, and he will go through astounding amounts of effort to commit to the bit. He made his cull poll in spore and then blew it up. Hes also super responsive and active and seems really eager to share his creation techniques and spread the joy of making things in spore [2008]. His blog almost singlehandedly sparked a significant resurgence in interest and playerbase of a 16 year old game that most people see as nothing but a meme. Hes just a guy who likes spore [2008]

i say vote for making you in spore because seeing them blow up their opponents after they win is hilarious

[dilf-docs]

All Roads Lead To Rome

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your boyfriend swears he isn't annoyed at your little surprise visit on the set of gladiator II; you might have to help him release his anger, one way... or another.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (BARK BARK BARK), smut, p. in v., bit of exhibition kink cause they fuck on his trailer, he swears he's mad but he just wants head, oral (m. receiving), he also uses his armor and skirt while at it bc its hot and not bc i totally want that to happen to me or smth!!!, brat taming, orgasm denial, breeding and daddy kink lowkey, i'm so down bad for him so there's fluff!!! + pedro being whipped cause that's exactly what i want in my men, the cast makes cameos bc i love them!!! use of spanish (i'm latina so don't even try me), pedro wearing a skirt tehee

word count: 3,519 words

side note: i'm about as FERAL and horny as much as one could be!!! damn u pedro, making me walk out in the middle of class and walk on foot to the nearest theather for an early gladiator II screening (bc they're cheaper and i'm a jobless broke student lmao) that mind u it's my first solo trip to the movies but it's okay!!!! nobody interrupt me on my horny dilf hours amirite I TELL U that cinema was almost empty: just me, pedro and hey there's a spot if u wanna join mescal (look at my blog banner IYKYK) so yeah!!!! enjoy this porn lovechild that steemed from it; my pedro renaissance that'd been asleep since tlou dropped AWAKES (u don't get it, i literally watched narcos just for him) i'm so fr i need this man BIBLICALLY!!

"Lemme guess, that's her, right?"

Pedro looks up from his phone, slightly red and embarrassed. He would blame the color on the sun, and as an actor, fake his way out.

"No idea what you're talking about, Paul"

The young man chuckles.

"I mean, every break we get, you take your chair, sit the farthest and pull your phone with the most ridiculous grin I've ever seen. I'm afraid to tell you, friend, you aren't as slick as you think"

He leans back against the chair, covering his face with his large palm.

"At least I tried" he finds no point in lying anymore, "seems like I'm addicted, but if it wasn't for y/n, I wouldn't touch it"

"I'm curious, though" Paul scoots his chair closer, "who texts who? You or her?"

"Me" he answers, but then corrects himself quickly, a bit ashamed of how that makes him sound, "but it's mostly her first".

"Right" he doesn't sound convinced, rather curious and annoyed, something he's too old and tired for, "I don't believe you"

He's about to lock his phone, but the wallpaper (a selfie with you) would probably earn him another mock from Mescal.

"Too bad I don't need you to"

Before he can do so, the irish man yanks his phone away.

"Give it back!" he shouts, earning a few glances from the crew around them, "what are you, ten?"

"No, twenty-eight" they look like kids bickering. "No need to fight me, Mr. Pascal, they haven't taught us the new fighting choreography yet" he mocks, before the phone chimes; they both stop at the sound.

"What does this mean?" Paul asks. "Malta's nice" he reads out loud, "were you talking about possible future vacations? I might have to tag along"

He doesn't follow the man's joke, instead, looking at the message on your chat. Malta's nice, says the little cryptic message, and yes―it is cryptic, because you were just talking about missing each other and some other corny stuff he'd take to his grave. Not vacations, and certainly, not about the european island, which happens to also be the place were he's filming his latest movie.

"No, we weren't" he replies confused, "what do you think it means?"

"Well, obviously, you boys don't know anything" May pops up from behind, laughing.

"Were you eavesdropping?" he asks playfully, albeit, a little offended.

"No, you guys are just too loud" she replies nonchalant. "Besides, you aren't very good at hiding it, either"

"That's what I said!" Paul backs, laughing on his face.

"Stop being misterious and just drop it"

"It means" she pauses―laughing at her own little dramatic effect, "that you're getting a visit soon"

When you met Pedro, you were working in The Last Of Us. Nothing fancy, just part of the technical cast of the show: helping with the filming and stuff.

During those months, it was easy to find yourself falling for the main star (alongside Bella Ramsey), especially when you spent months behind a camera, capturing all of his perfect features; learning them by memory until you could draw them without seeing his face.

Yes, you had fallen for the older man, because it was as natural as breathing; easy as being alive―the fall so gentle and so easy, it was hard to know when the feelings started. You just woke up one day, feeling different.

You liked to act up―always had what you wanted, and times had changed (so it's not like he had to ask first): why not? Which is why during your last day of shooting you took some liquid courage on your veins and went up his way. It was at a little gathering the crew you've grown to call family organized, while wearing your favorite and tightest dress, that you approached him.

It surprised you that he even recognized you, but that's who he was: warm, welcoming and caring.

To augment the surprise, turns out he had eyed you already, but was too shy to do anything. Yes, the worlds most famous Chilean man. It did stroke your ego, and maybe that's why you feel like most of the time, you've got the upper hand on your relationship, despite the years in between.

Still, you feel like the last message you just sent was a bit too blunt. Now you sit at the tiny airport, pondering your next move.

You know your boyfriend isn't exactly the type to scold or get mad―despite his strong figure, but going against the only thing he asked you might test him. Which is why you feel nervous, despite the happiness around you, everyone in the airport looking straight out of a picture perfect summer edition magazine.

And your theory is proven exactly right when you arrive impromptu at the Gladiator II set: making heads turn and guards almost kick you out, thinking you're a fan.

"You don't get it!" you protest, "he's my boyfriend".

"Sure", they laugh on your face. "you're not the first to say that".

"She's not lying" oh, how you love that gravely voice. But not today: not when he sounds like a parent scolding a naive child. Not when his eyes bore into you, slightly irritated.

So now he's dragging you among the set, right to were his trailer is.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" you ask, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. He keeps dragging you by the arm, without sparing a glance in your way. Who does he think he is? "I wanted to tell Paul he made me cry―twice. You know I don't play about Normal People and Aftersun"

"But you do seem to play about my orders" he grunts out, opening the door to his trailer. The sunlight reflects against the white, slightly bothering your eyes with its shine, contrary to your boyfriend's gloomy behaviour.

"Are you being serious right now? You're not my dad to scold me. I just wanted to surprise you" you stand still, refusing to get inside. Pedro knows your character tends to be stubborn, and thought he finds it hot to reel you up sometimes, there are other times where he can't just stand that juvenile spirit of rage you tend to have when things don't go the way you want them to. "What's gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same" he mocks. "Get inside. Now"

"Rude" you scoff, but obey regardless, and he breathes out relieved you didn't do a scene like last time; he still can't show his face on that restaurant to this day.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me" you say a tad bit dissapointed, and Pascal feels the pissed off feelings clouding his brain start to dissipate.

"I do, amor" he sighs, "just hate to see you do things I tell you not to; waltzing in here like you own the place".

You don't see the mistake, though. What's wrong with wanting to do a little surprise? It's not like you were a stalker or something; just a very clingy girlfriend who happens to miss her boyfriend.

"So, you're not mad?" you venture, "tell me you're not embarrassed"

He looks at you, the fondness of his gaze betraying him.

"I'm not the one wearing a skirt while trying to sound intimidating" you joke while caressing the crook of his nose, knowing you always get on his good side. Being mad isn't something that lasts, "if anyone should be embarrassed, that's you"

"Are you saying I shouldn't wear one because I'm a man?" your boyfriend looks offended, "Have you forgotten the movie I'm starring in? People feared the skirt-wearing Roman army"

"Well, I'm not intimidated" you stand defiant, and something dark tints his brown eyes. You can feel the excitement begin pooling in your stomach.

"You're not?" he grips your wrists and yanks you to him, then holds your chin, tilting your head between his calloused fingers. "Well, cariño, you should be"

Your body slams against one of the trailers walls, and you have to suppress a whine.

"You must be punished for what you did today"

You give him a doe-eye look, pretending to be all innocent, as if you weren't enjoying the punishment.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been a good girl"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about" he clicks his tongue, "don't play dumb with me"

"I just came to visit you" you murmur, voice husky against his ear. He grunts, and with the proximity, his hard-on rasps against your bare legs, only partly covered by the flowy summer dress you're wearing, "is that so bad?"

"It is. Has sido mala, cariño" his hand travels down under your dress, carresing with his large palm the silhoutte of your ass. The rings on his fingers create a shock, cold metal against your warm sun-bathed skin. "Naughty girl"

"I promise I'll be good, papi" you purr, using that honeyed voice of yours that makes it hard: hard to say no and hard between his pants.

Pedro sits on a small couch he has inside the trailer, guiding you with his hand enveloped around yours, motioning you to follow with a care so soft, you'd doubt he's about to do to you what he is about to do to you. He pulls you across his lap, smiling (God, you love his smile) as your stomach presses against his tights.

"Don't worry" he breathes low, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll make you a good girl. Tell me, aren't you?"

You swallow, "I am"

He moves the panties easily to the side, rubbing your pussy a little. He then spanks it softly, making you mewl at the sting.

Pedro continues to trace over it, "Are you sure about that?"

"N-no" you shiver in delight, resolve dissolving as quick as it came. "I'm naughty"

"It's good to be aware" he murmurs, "Dilo otra vez"

"I'm a naughty girl"

He lifts your head by your hair. "Tell me what you did"

"Disobeyed your orders, coming to the set" you whisper. He lets go of your hair, his hands traveling down again, slowly teasingly rubbing your pussy while he humms.

"You were a little brat, amor"

You whimpered and mewled in delight. "I was a very naughty brat"

He pushed his fingers inside you, plunging his fingers into your pussy.

"Look at you. You're soaking wet" he pumped his fingers in you, making you moan, "Is that why you came to see me? Couldn't wait any longer for daddy to be inside of you?"

You bucked a little, making him stop. He drags his fingers out, causing you to beg for him to go back.

"Answer my question you greedy thing" He leaned closer to your ear. "Did you need my cock this much?"

You whimper, "I do! Missed you so much"

He pushed his fingers back into you, provoking a moan out of you.

"You're always so needy for me" your core tenses, making you shiver. "How badly do you want me? Tell me"

You whimpered "Badly, papi"

"Say it" his face contorts in satisfaction at your pathethic display; crying little mess, "Who's cock, fingers and mouth make you feel good?"

You can't think at this point, your brain fuzzy and pussy hot, leaking. You kiss his lips, moaning against them, "you!"

"Just me, yes? Nobody else can make you feel this good?"

"No one!"

You involuntarily roll your hips to aid you in pleasure, yet Pedro stops you just before you can reach your orgasm.

"Little brat." he tuts, making you groan. "Did you think I'd let you? You were naughty today, baby"

You huff in annoyance, used to having your way.

"That's your punishment"

"But I'll behave" you mewl against his ear, "I promise"

“Good, because I'm planning on fucking your brains out” his hot breathe whispers in your ear seductively, trying his best not to slur the words at the drunken haze that your arousal provokes in him, "but you have to help me first"

You get on your knees, looking at the garment he's wearing. The skirt and general costume makes this all the more hot, mouth watering at the sight. You raise the skirt, glancing at the briefs; just seeing his dick strained against the fabric makes you wet in anticipation.

He sees the pleasure bore into your orbs, and before you do any dirty idea of yours, he's already warning:

"You have to take this off, what if we-"

"Alright" you cut him off, "but the skirt stays"

"Sigue, pues" he growls, voice low yet demanding, following you in your little game.

As you pull the briefs down, his erection springs out enthusiastically, slapping up against his lower abdomen. You shifted your gaze up to meet his, his eyelids heavy and his proud smirk driving you absolutely wild.

"That's right" he chokes out, "show me how much you missed it"

You give him a proud lick, and Pedro hisses at the moment his preseminal fluid goes in between your hungry lips.

Your tongue darts to the head of his cock, running over it several times before bobbing your head down, taking most of him in your mouth. He keeps praising as you pump the base of his cock with your hand. Your head bobs, yet you peek up to hear Pascal's little sounds and facial expression, a motivation so intimate in the way his brows furrow and eyes roll, mouth agape at your movements while his lip suck on those pretty lips of his. It makes you keep going. With every bob you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, before slowly moving your way back up to the tip, increasing your suction the closer to his head you got. A throaty moan escapes the man above you when you now focus on the final lick, making him closer to coming, all while maintaining eye contact the entire way through.

"Don't do that" he rasps, yanking you by the hair again, as of punishment, but he knows you enjoy it, "you promised you'd be good"

You can't answer, so instead, you reach the head of his cock again, and now his eyes roll back, mumbling profanities that sound like heaven.

"Do you want them to hear us, brat? Qué necia eres" he manages to chastise while moaning.

You feel his dick stuck in your throat, and the way he's about to come; you think that after some time dating, you know him well enough.

You're about to leave with your mouth when he stops you.

"No" your eyes open in shock, "what? Did you think your punishment is over?" Pedro laughs, "don't look at me like that. Like you have never done it before"

He keeps you in place by the hair, the rings prickling against your scalp. You feel his muscles tense up, and before you can think anything else thick and hot shots of cum invade your mouth, making it sticky and warm.

"Don't pretend you don't like it" his voice goes dark, husky. "Swallow it all. Te han enseñado a no desperdiciar nada, ¿verdad? Show me your good manners, then"

When you pull out, your throat feels raspy.

"You gotta reward me" you cough out.

"I promised, didn't I?" his fingers trace your face delicately, with adoration.

"It's all about duty, General Acacius" you purr, and the dick springs out again. Hard.

"Princess..." he warns.

"For the glory of Rome" you joke and laugh, then cough, as your throat is still sore.

"Have you been reading my script?" as you avoid to answer, he just chuckles, "ay, nena"

"C'mere" he motions, and you sit on his lap again. Pedro lifts your dress, exploring the curve of your ass. There's anticipation as he hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to access your core.

"Fuck" you squirm at his touch, grinding your freed cunt against his hard cock. He grabs you by the hip, adjusting you right on his lap.

"You taste so good" he kisses down your throat, ending at the chest were your tits peak.

"Want them?" you offer, pulling your dress down. He kisses them, gently nipping at your perked up nipples.

A wave of pleasure courses through you, and with whines and moans, you show how desperate you are, the hunger making the meal taste better. After all those weeks missing him, you just want him to fuck you senseless.

His lips are rosy and swollen against yours, mouths clashing; starved of the yearned contact. Truth is, no matter how much you know how to touch yourself, it'll never be the same as having his hard cock tear through your tight folds.

Pedro easily aligns his leaking cock with your uncovered pussy, all while mantaining the kiss. He pushes down on you, your dripping cunt taking all of his rock-hard cock, fingers holding onto the soft brown grey sprinkled locs.

"Pedro" you cry out his name, full of ecstasy as the stretch burns so sweetly. His low grunts only fuel your desire.

You trace with your eyes his body, now bare without the upper part of the costume: his pecs and abs, flexing with every pump. With now free hands, your fingers travel to softly caress his stomach, even if your tits are jiggling and the pace is rather frenetic.

"I miss your tummy" you pout.

"I miss eating too" he whispers out, tiredly. He's reminded of his old age, forgetting about it as soon as you two kiss, because you bring out a stamina he thinks he doesn't have anymore; almost animalistic. His bones creak and adding the tiring filming day under the hot sun, he feels his body start to give up, the orgams closer and closer.

"No matter how you look" you clash your lips onto his, the adoration translating through the smile you press against, a trail of saliva that symbolizes how interwined you are, "you always look so fucking good"

He blushes, feeling like a stupid school boy with a crush. What did he even do to deserve you? Never thought a pretty young wild thing like you would even spare a glance on his way, but now you're taking all of his cock inside with such greed yet loom into his eyes with a love he's only dreamed of.

You're real, and his.

As soon as those words leave your mouth your orgasm spills over him, some of it dripping onto the skirt, making him curse. You can't stop, still meeting his thrusts halfway, despite your trembling body after reaching your high.

"Mierda" he groans against your mouth,

You feel yourself collapsing on top of him, the weight of the jet lag catching up.

"Getting tired, baby?" he coos. "Shit, and I thought I was old"

"You are" you reply back; you can never not have the last word. And he lets you, because, God, doesn't he love you? He pretends to look offended by it, but the way your eyes shine tell him you didn't mean it that way. "You and your white hairs" tracing over his moustache, a soft hand combing through his locks, "These wrinkles... don't you know how much I love them? how much I love you?"

"And you have no idea how much I love you" he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling it coming through. "God, wanna make you mine. Sólo mía" his pace slows. It's coming, and yes, you will take it all. "Wanna make you a baby, mami. Want you to take it all like the good girl you are"

When he comes, filling you with burning hot cum until you feel like you might burst, you're numb. But there's a feeling so content that pools warmth in your chest, that you can't say anything else, resting your head against his bare chest, both covered in sticky sweat.

"No sé cómo voy a explicar esto" he speaks through ragged breathes, and you can only smirk, "a squirted and cummed roman skirt".

"That isn't my problem" he scoffs, and you feel your head rise against the movement, earning a laugh out of you, "I'm not part of the movie"

"You'd sure think so, with the way you walked in here"

You roll your eyes, face hidden against his chest, "can you let that go?"

"You're right" he pulls you closer to him, hand enveloping you behind your bare back. The quiet doesn't bother you as you lie closer to his chest, his heartbeat the only thing you need to be at peace, "I think punishment time is over. Think you've learned your lesson"

"Then, how about we go out? I've heard Malta's beaches are pretty"

"Relájate, cariño. Seems you've gotten your energy back" he quips, then kisses your forehead. "We need to wait for everyone to get out"

"That embarrased you are of me?" you joke.

"No" he can already imagine his fellow cast members making fun of him, starting with Paul and Joseph when they see you and Connie who will totally notice the fun sticky stains on the costume, "but embarrased of the explanation I'll have to give"

[logansdoll]

Heyyy. Ok really cheesy but I’d like to request a Logan x reader friends to lovers where it’s like an accidental confession. Maybe someone makes fun of the reader and Logan without thinking about it just starts yelling and defending why the reader is great and everything he loves about her? Ik it’s a little OOC but maybe he gets so mad (as Wolverine does) that he gets all mushy without realizing lol. Thanks ❤️❤️

lotus

while on library duty, Logan overhears two girls talking shit about you... and corrects it quickly.

CW: sorry i went in a little different direction, suggestive, profanity, takes place during the timeline of the og X-Men, these girls are bitches, etc.

"I just don't get what's the big deal about her," Maya scoffed, resting her cheek in her palm as she thoughtlessly flipped through her biology textbook.

Talia nodded, glancing up from her notes with an excitement that screamed nothing to do.

"No, seriously," she agreed. "Like we get it... you can grow shit. Big deal."

That piqued Logan's interest.

With Jean and Scott off on a date, the professor away, and you and Ororo teaching a joint class, he was slapped with library duty—watching the kids during their scheduled study period.

Now, originally, he planned on simply plopping himself down in a corner and puffing his cigar, hoping to fall asleep and just ride out his sentence.

And he was halfway there, too.

But just as he was about to catch some Zs, his hearing picked up on a conversation between two older girls who seemed to be trash talking his girlfriend.

"Word," Maya turned the next page, a grimace settling on her face when she noticed the image of a flower.

One you were very vocal about liking.

"She won't shut up about these stupid lotus flowers either... Hey! Did you guys know that the lotus is considered sacred in many Eastern cultures? And it often symbolizes purity, beauty, and rebirth!"

Talia let out an obnoxious snicker, the impression not nearly as funny as what she was making it to be.

But maybe she just hated you that much...

"You sound just like her," she commended, very much amused. "Only she's always smiling. Like I've never seen her frown before... it's almost creepy."

"Seriously creepy. But Peter can't get enough of it... you know he has a crush on her, right?"

"Seriously?!"

Logan let out a quiet chuckle, tickled by the news.

He'd caught the boy staring at you during a few Danger Room sessions, but didn't think much of it, assuming he'd just caught him while he happened to be looking in your direction.

Oh, how wrong he was...

He couldn't wait to tell you later tonight.

"Mhmm. Half the boys at school nearly fall over themselves to make sure they're not late to her class... It's almost funny."

"Funny, my ass. Why'd it have to be Peter?" Talia huffed, tossing her pencil at the textbook in frustration. "She's not even that pretty. I've had dogs that look better than her."

Maya attempted to muffle a snicker, but Logan heard it loud and clear, his brows furrowing at the horrible comment.

"I'm serious. She puts up this whole nice and innocent act, but I bet she's a raging bitch behind closed doors."

That was it.

All the stuff before was just normal, teenage jealousy; something he'd—albeit reluctantly—let slide.

But calling you out of your name?

Insulting your character?

Comparing you to a dog?

A line had to be drawn.

"Tali, you can't say that," Maya chuckled, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

"Like I care," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I'd tell it to her face if I ever got the chance. Just walk right up to her and say—"

"Say what?"

The girls nearly jumped out their skin, whipping around, only to be met by Logan's arched brow, the man leaning up against a bookshelf as he puffed on his cigar.

They were at a loss for words, unable to say anything under his imposing presence.

"Don't get shy now," he goaded, crossing his arms over his chest. "Go on. Tell me what you're gonna say to Dr. (l/n)."

The two were practically frozen, frantically glancing at each other for assistance, Logan's eyes flicking between the two expectantly.

"Nothing?" he hummed. "That's funny... 'cause you both seemed to have plenty of shit to say earlier."

Both their faces fell almost instantly, the color practically draining from Talia.

"You heard that?" Maya squeaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Every word," Logan nodded. "And what I managed to gather from it was that you both just can't stand her because she's kind, passionate, pretty, and beloved."

He listed each trait off on his fingers, glancing at the two for confirmation.

"How's that? Am I in the ballpark?"

They remained silent, hanging their heads in embarrassment as Logan's confrontation had garnered the attention of the whole library.

"Well, then, how's this..." he pulled the cigar out his mouth. "I'll let you both off this time with a warning... but if I catch either of you trash talkin' anybody again, teacher or student, you're grounded."

"'Til when?" Talia asked, nervously.

"'Til I tell you you're not."

The end of day bell punctuated his statement, a flourish of shutting books and closing pencil cases muffling the girls' sighs of relief.

"Now get outta here."

He had never seen two students pack up so fast.

They were gone in T-minus ten, and once the library was cleared out, Logan allowed himself to sit down, letting out his own sigh.

He could've tore into them infinitely worse—and he honestly wanted to for that dog comment—but he figured that was the right, and legal, amount for a teacher.

But even still...

'I dunno how a girl who can only float two inches off the ground is talkin' about (n/n) havin' a shitty power...'

[alchemistc]

"I am not packing your kitchen, Buck," Maddie says with a hard set to her jaw and a hand planted on her hip, and Evan sends her a warning look over his shoulder, elbow deep in packing tape and half-folded boxes. Tommy is clearly missing something.

"You found the ring cutter in there with the ladles too, huh?" Snipes Eddie from somewhere in the vicinity of the bathroom, and before Tommy can get a firm grasp on that Eddie's tipping his head back through the open doorway. "C'mon guys, seriously, you didn't pack this shit up before you forced us all to help you pack?" There's an unopened tube of lube in his hand.

"I'm getting things off of walls and that is all, Evan Buckley," comes Maddie's quick rejoinder, and Buck levels them both with a look.

"That could be for normal stuff! Sometimes rings need cutting! Sometimes you need to - lubricate other things!"

It is, of course, the moment Bobby wanders through the unlocked door.

Tommy's still familiar with the cadence of Hen and Howie, ribbing and mocking a form of endearment for them both, so he's not exactly shocked when Bobby just rolls with it and starts listing off the last fifteen calls they've needed it for. None of those things particularly improve the red rising up Evan's cheekbones, but Tommy catches the grin Bobby's hiding while he sets boxes of pizza up at the kitchen table, cleared of the latest seasonal decor Evan had dragged him through three different department stores to find, not that he could be bothered to care when the very existence of them was all it took to shift Maddie's opinion of him from tolerantly friendly to encouragingly approving.

("This loft was a minimalists wet dream before you were in the picture," she'd told him one evening, after she'd manipulated him into admitting he was terrified this didn't mean the same thing to Evan as it did to him. "He started nesting a month after my wedding, Tommy.")

And now they're here. Watching Evan pretend to be miffed by the teasing while he fights a roll of packing tape.

He's going to miss the upstairs shower, wide enough for two grown men to fit more than comfortably; and the balcony on cooler nights when he could tempt Evan out for a slow dance set to the late-evening traffic; the kitchen island at the perfect height to lift Evan onto and tilt his head up for an angled kiss.

He won't miss the open plan that makes it impossible to do much of anything with a snoring Eddie right below them, the tuba player two doors down who only seems to practice the moment Tommy's head meets the pillow at the end of any random days-long shift, the way the elevator always smells like tuna on Thursday afternoons.

There are things he won't have to miss, of course. Evan, on nights when they just can't make their schedules align well enough to justify the drive time. The extra fluffy towel set Evan had refused to reveal the origin of ("You'll buy your own and leave me, I know you're only with me for my towels."). The pictures plastered to the fridge that Tommy's spent the last few weeks plotting out space for on his own before deciding he'd need a new fridge just to fit them all. The plant he'd bought Evan to appease the grump, the first time he'd dragged him to the farmers market at the ass crack of dawn, lovingly named Herbert. The fancy adjustable bedside lamps Evan had bought the last time he'd caught Tommy squinting down his reading glasses at the book in his hands. Evan.

Christ, he wouldn't have to miss Evan anymore. They'd synched up their schedules more or less as well as they could, but Tommy's spent months now trying to ignore how quickly a sleepless night could turn restful with Evan in his bed - how fitful a night without him there had a habit of being.

Most of the loft is already packed. Evan's wardrobe has been dwindling for weeks now, a box at a time carted from the back of the Jeep up Tommy's drive, through the mud room, down the hall and straight to the closet that had never seen such a shock of color or variety of fabric. They'd sprung for a bigger mattress, once they'd gotten over the sticker shock and remembered how much they'd be saving by paying half a mortgage each with no rent to speak of, and other than the kitchen table most of Evan's other furniture was being donated.

All that really remained were the kitchen supplies Evan hadn't been willing to move until he handed over his keys, a few toiletries, a single drawer of clothes just in case he needed them. Pictures on the walls and stacks of books on the bookshelves - half a decade of life lived in this apartment and most of it was already half unboxed and slowly integrating into the fifteen years Tommy had put into his own solitary life.

Evan finishes taping boxes and makes a beeline for his itemized list, and Tommy has to pretend it's giving him as much grief as Evan's sister and best friend to see the clipboard in action. He's not entirely sure how well he sells it, when even Bobby's shooting him aggrieved looks only to grimace at whatever he finds in Tommy's expression.

And just like that, an hour passes and the pizza disappears; the boxes are loaded into the back of his truck; the kitchen table in Eddie's; and Maddie tugs her brother in for a hug, drags Tommy in for good measure too, kisses them both on the cheek as she leaves; Bobby tucks a wooden box filled with handwritten recipes on note cards into Evan's hand and Tommy pretends not to notice either of their teary eyes; Eddie hefts a six pack out of the otherwise empty fridge and promises to meet them at the house in forty-five.

There's still one picture stuck to the fridge - a candid from the first barbeque Athena and Bobby had hosted after their move, Tommy and Evan backlit by a setting sun, tucked up against each other leaned against a porch railing, and Tommy knuckles at it while Evan does a slow introspective spin to take in the wide expanse of windows and brick. He's still staring when Evan finishes and drifts towards him, hands tucking in at Tommy's waist, chin hooking over his shoulder.

"Is this one staying?"

Evan shakes his head, nose digging into the side of Tommy's neck. "Just wanted to keep it out so it could be the first one we put up."

He remembers the night. Karen had gotten him drunk and added him to the wives group chat. May Grant had stolen half his slice of cake right off his plate and dared him to protest. Jee had spent the entire night calling him Uncle Tommy and thrown a massive fit when she realized he wasn't going home with her to read a bedtime story. Christopher and Denny had spent half an hour trying to teach him how to play Fortnite and then been mystified when he trounced them in Mario Kart. He knows exactly why it's significant to him. "Why this one?" he asks, curving into the cradle of Evan's arms.

Evan's so much better with words than Tommy is, and Tommy's just grateful Evan takes his actions for the things he means with them. "That's the night I knew what our something was gonna be," Evan murmurs, and Tommy tips his chin back and angles his head to catch Evan's lips against his own.

[northopalshore]

Hii💝💝

I'm curious, based of your experience, what is your first impression of each rising sign ??

♀Hello 🌝

Personal experiences with the rising signs

Note that these do not reflect the entirety of those with the rising signs mentioned, these are just my personal opinions of people I've met in real life with these placements.

๑ஓ Aries risings:

All the aries risings I've met up to this point are very direct. They look like they bite but really don't. Also, a lot of them kind of look & act like a dumbass (in the best way possible). The edge lords with no filter, no patience, no tolerance, but most of all no bullshit.

If they call you an ass that's a term of endearment lmao. Sarcasm is their love language, jokes and wit are their strong suits. They're the ones that will debate you just for fun (the guys especially).

Intense, passionate and lively. They always look mad for some reason but they swear they aren't. It's like their eyebrows are just angled that way naturally. I love being around them though. It's always refreshing.

First impression in a single sentence: Annoyingly charming.

๑ஓ Taurus risings:

Literally the most patient and chill people I've ever met. Super friendly, slightly dorky. Perhaps it's because I have Taurus in my 3rd house, but I'm usually at ease around them. Although, sometimes it's rather awkward when we run out of things to say lol.

I'd say they are the goofiest people I've ever met.

First impression in a single sentence: Fun but kind of awkward.

๑ஓ Gemini risings:

Very talkative. Very friendly. Always seem to have some sort of new gossip or topic to think about. They do tend to be a bit two-faced at times especially when it involves gossiping, however I've noticed that if they have sun or moon here they are rather passive aggressive. By that I mean they don't "split faces" or pretend to like something as much compared to those without it. How do I say it .. they have more integrity?

It's not like all the gossip is bad, sometimes they comment on the right stuff but just hide their distaste rather than facing any sort of confrontation.

Maybe it's because my 4th house is Gemini, but I sort of have a hit or miss relationship with Gemini Suns & risings. They tend to "mother" me quite often. Perhaps they remind me of some traits my mother has? Both good & bad. I tend to have a love hate relationship with them for some reason, but I don't dislike Gemini.

There's sometimes this codependent feel whenever I'm around them. But Gemini moons? Those are my bffs lmaoo.

First impression in a single sentence: Gretchen Wieners

๑ஓ Cancer risings:

The sweetest most genuine people I've ever met, regardless of their gender. They are always honest with what they're trying to communicate. (Although most cancer risings I know have either sun or moon in the first house)

Note: I'm realising now I know quite a handful of people with sun/moon in their 1st house.

First impression in a single sentence: "I can't believe people like you still exist."

๑ஓ Leo risings:

Omg. They are super friendly & very caring. They definitely are divas in their own right. Very expressive especially when it comes to their makeup or looks. They love accessories, and outfits that stand out.

I have a leo rising friend with moon & jupiter in her 1st house. Girl, lemme tell you she is extra. Contact lenses, head accessories, heels, the works. She's very confident of herself as well. Posting videos & photos of herself often.

There is a bit of a temper but it's not that prominent & doesn't really last long either. Still, I've never met a single Leo rising that is selfish. Self obsessed yes, but not without the heart to match.

First impression in a single sentence: The bigger the hair the bigger the heart.

๑ஓ Virgo risings:

Edge lord II. There are three types of virgo rising that I usually meet. The self deprecating, the self obsessed perfectionist & the one in the middle.

On one hand, they are a super deadpan, no bullshit typa person then on the other, they are extremely self focused and sensitive towards judgement but super judgemental themselves. Then on the otherr other hand, they couldn't care less about what you think.

Very analytical, as you'd expect from Virgos. I always notice them looking around or at me trying to evaluate their surroundings lol. I appreciate their sense of thoughtfulness.

If they're nice, they're really nice but if they're immature or have issues with confidence or control especially then it's very evident. Still, I don't dislike them by any means. Virgo is my descendant I guess I'm a sucker for an edge lord lmaoo. Maybe that's why I keep marrying Sebastian in Stardew Valley.

First impression in one sentence: Okay Sasha Fierce/ 'cause tonight will be the night that I will fall ferr yeww ovar againn— ♪

๑ஓ Libra risings:

They are usually very sweet & open to communication. The ones I've met in real life are very intuitive, or at least are somewhat of a deep thinker. However, some of them tend to judge things based on looks quite fast lol. Other than that though, they usually have very good (fair) judgement & good values.

They are usually very pretty (conventionally attractive). With symmetrical oval shaped faces and a gorgeous resting face. They just look like an ad.

However, I have a housemate with a libra rising & aquarius degree and she's.. well you wouldn't expect her to be a Libra rising based on her looks. It's not like she's ugly, no. Her features just differ from what you'd expect from a Libra rising.

Also, she tends to be rather biased at times. Saying that one thing is bad, but she acts on something else which isn't "applaudable" by any means.

First impression in a single sentence: Clueless' Cher meets Karen Smith

๑ஓ Scorpio risings:

These are the asian baby girls or "goth chicks". Their favourite colour is usually black or purple. Normally I see them with tattoos or dyed hair. These are my people though, they are very inquisitive. A lot of the scorpio risings I know like to ask questions. Sometimes very.. strange or intense questions.

I love how genuine they are to themselves however, speaking their mind and expressing their feelings through their expressions. Some of them tend to be... Reclusive? They see themselves as this dark entity, either too smart for the others to comprehend or dismissive of what people have to say about them.

Although, I've never met a scorpio rising who isn't slightly obsessed with themselves lmao.

First impressions in a single sentence: I bet they listen to Mitski & Lana Del Rey.

๑ஓ Sagittarius risings:

I feel like people tend to sleep on how attractive Sagittarius risings are. Like, they're giving face, body, curves and everything in between. I have an older friend (27-28) and she's just so pretty. Especially when she smiles. Ngl but I did side eye her man a couple times during their wedding.

Usually very active outdoors as well.

Most of the guys I've met with this placement are rather religious. Like, the type to debate over it. The men are quite preachy (at least the ones I've met are). Most of them are reliable and fun to be around. Certified yappers.

First impression in a single sentence: The bigger the brain the hotter the person, I just hope they don't get too big now.

๑ஓ Capricorn risings:

Usually, the people I met with this placement give a pretty cold attitude towards the things around them. Their muscles on their faces are usually tense or there's this resting b face there. Sometimes they look like they're in a hurry to do something but you see them doing nothing in particular after lol.

They look like they've got shit to do & their lives together. Either that or they look rather unmotivated lmao. When you're talking for the first few times, there's usually no expression on their face. They'll just blink every now & then.

They are competitive too which is something you'd normally expect from an Aries more than anything.

First impression in a single sentence: "They are so practical."

๑ஓ Aquarius risings:

Weirdest mfs alive. Both male & female. Also tend to be the loudest (but differs depending on the degree it's in), though still charming in a way. They tend to be very chill and always down to hang with whoever. Usually always laughing at their own jokes or something they thought of randomly. They tend to be very intuitive, although it manifests differently with every aquarius rising I've met (whether their focus is on society or themselves). There's this tunnel vision aspect as well. They are genuine to a fault lol. The ones I've met personally are a little wild or quirky, always doing their own thing.

Very opinionated usually. Always trying to look at the big picture.

First impression in a single sentence: "I mean, if it works for you great."

๑ஓ Pisces risings:

They are a little erratic, a little strange and other worldly in a way. When you look at them, at times you'll notice that they aren't really there. Their interests are always different from the people around them.

Some of them tend to have this victim mentality to them, but I think it's just because most of the ones I met were when I was younger. They're probably just as immature as other kids at the time.

Very spiritual regardless if they follow any specific religion or not, I've never met a pisces rising (or w the degree) that isn't open to the idea of a higher power or karmic cycles. This seems to be true especially as they grow older. They also always have some sort of connection to music.

First impression in a single sentence: "I wonder if their mind is at Jupiter right now"

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

***entertainment purposes only, reader discretion is advised***

Hope this was entertaining ʕ⁠´⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠`⁠ʔ◜⁠✧

@northopalshore

[redwinewhiteroses]

What does your fs love the most about you?

👰🤵💌

Masterlist

Image 1

Your fs is really attracted to you sexually. It's really a strong energy almost like lust and desire. I think they love your body, sensuality and your sexual expression. They admire your physical body too much in a good way. They're really tempted by you. They might even be obsessive over you. Your fs feels intoxicated by you. I think you seduce them and they love that about you. You might know what your fs wants and you'll say it exactly the way he wants, I think he's so charmed by that. You could be a bit manipulative in getting what you want, and he is kinda turned on by that ngl. Also you might be a dom or have some control or an invisible grasp over him and he likes that. Like they can't say no to you. You or them could be a bit submissive and your fs likes that power dynamic. It seems that one has control over the other and they love that their partner is submissive or dominant over them. This could be a theme in your relationship. For some you might be into heavy makeup or roleplay or kinky stuff and they love that about you. For some of you, you might be a daredevil and pretty unconventionally attractive and they love that about you. For some of you, you guys might indulge in something together and they love sharing that experience with you, whatever it is.

Your fs loves your optimism and warm hearted nature. They think you are full of life and they feel inspired by you in so many ways. I think they love your cheerfulness and positive attitude towards life. You could be playful or goofy with them and they really enjoy that about you. You bring a lot of love and light to their life and they are truly grateful to have you as their life partner.

You could be a happy go lucky person or you might radiate a childlike joy and your fs adores you for all of those traits. They find you charming and confident.

Your fs loves your enthusiasm for life. You might have expressive eyes and they love your eyes. You make people feel valued and appreciated and that really catches your fs's eyes. You might have a lot of friends or you love building connections with people. Maybe you love celebrating people. You build community and your fs loves that. You can be a social butterfly. Your fs thinks you have a good friendship and a passionate love life. They might think they got the better end of the deal in your marriage lol. There's this energy of them seeing you as a catch. Almost like they feel a thousand times better about themselves with you by their side. You magnify their self confidence and they love that about you.

For very few of you, this relationship might have started as a fwb situation and progressed into a marriage. That's it for my dear group ones.

Image 2

They love the stability you bring into your relationship. They love how reliable you are and that actions always follow your words. They think you are reliable and they value your partnership and commitment more than anything and everything else. They feel at home with you. There's this strong sense of belonging they feel with you. They love that you bring so much joy and optimism into their life and how their life is now a thousand times better with you in it. They love how caring you are and they love the conversations you share. They love the depth of the relationship you have, they think it is so profound. They are incredibly grateful for your presence is what I'm seeing. If you are already married to this person, they absolutely love your marriage. I think they would love to have kids with you and raise them together enjoying those little cute family moments together. They basically love love love doing life with you. Living under the same roof with you is something they cannot get enough of. This is so precious 😭

They also love how nurturing and emotionally stable you are. They think you are quite mature and impressive when dealing with emotions and complex feelings. They think you are very secure in yourself and you know how to regulate your emotions really well. They feel very safe and protected in the relationship. They think you support them and they're very grateful for you. They feel understood and accepted for all that they are. They love how sensitive you are. You could be an empath or you feel things rather deeply and intensely. They love how you don't judge but rather fully accept and embrace all parts of thrm without discrimination. They love your healing presence. You might be feminine and a true romantic at heart and your fs loves that about you. They always appreciate your sweet romantic gestures.

They also love your emotional abundance. You radiate love and kindness. You embody the true essence of love. They think you are a good spouse and loving, gentle parent. They love how loyal you are and how secure your relationship is. You might be creating art or creative in general and they absolutely love that about you. You bring them a lot of peace and emotional wellbeing. Both your heart chakras are fully open in this relationship and finally you both could navigate towards spirituality together and heal and find a higher purpose in life. There is also a newness in your relationship, like it's always fresh, never stagnant, never boring and there's always more to look forward to. Your fs loves that abundant positivity and rejuvenation in your marriage together. There's overflowing love here. Really beautiful relationship 💕

One thing that is very prominent here is you could have many kids together or you or your fs could have a strong desire to have kids. Pregnancy and fertility is very abundant in this marriage. So there's a lot of good luck and high possibility if that is something you want.

Image 3

Your fs loves how warm and welcoming you are. They love how optimistic and joyful you are. They love the stability you bring into their life. They feel safe in your relationship. They are grateful for how supportive you are. They love how stable your relationship is and they think your relationship is built on a strong foundation with mutual trust and respect. They love being married to you. They love spending time with you and they love talking to you because you possess a lot of wisdom. They feel this sense of belonging with you. They feel at home with you. They feel well understood and supported by you. They might look forward to coming home after work just to see you. Also they love having kids with you. They would most definitely love to create a family with you. They love the acts of service you do to make their life easier. They are incredibly grateful for you.

Your fs loves how you stand in your own true power. Your fs feels like you can guide them and help them navigate difficulties in life. They appreciate the knowledge and wisdom you bring to the table. You might raise your kids well and you maybe a strong guiding light for them and your fs really loves that about you. You could have an answer to a lot of things and you resolve conflict easily within the relationship. You could do a lot of self reflection and your fs thinks that the stability you bring is multiplied ten times over due to your amazing personal qualities. You could be quite independent on your own. You have a good sense of self, likely from a lot of introspection. They see that, and they absolutely love that about you. They think you are a very thoughtful partner. You could go against the grain and you would definitely not fear standing on your own. I think you have a lot of power and inner wisdom. You stand true to your beliefs. You could be a bit of a loner but never lonely. You could have a passion for life and maybe you charge that power and transmute that into creative energy with alone time. Your fs loves how you have a life for yourself within your marriage. Like you could have your own passion and ambitions for things you love to do and you bravely pursue them without hesitating. You have a good balance of depending on your partner and venturing into the world on your own. Your fs loves your wisdom and sense of self and your bravery to stand true to yourself at all times.

Your fs loves how passionate you are. You might have a lot of energy. Contradictory to your self isolation tendencies, you definitely has a lot of drive and ambition for life. You could have a home based business or you might have a creative pursuit. Your fs loves your ambition and determination. You might be into fitness, high energy activities and you might have some interesting hobbies. It's never boring with you is what I'm seeing. You could be a go getter and action oriented and your fs loves how decisive you are. You are confident, spontaneous and daring, you might even challenge them in some ways and inspire them. You could also lead the relationship in some way and I think your fs appreciates that. Your fs and you could travel a lot together.

Your fs also loves how passionate you are. You could be very confident with your sexuality and you are great at expressing yourself that way. There's this fiery passion in your relationship and it's very real. You could have a lot of spicy time with your fs and they absolutely love your wild, crazy, passionate side of you.

There's a possibility of pregnancy here. You would most likely create a family with your person. If that's something you want.

In case you were attracted to group two, I suggest you read that if you feel called to do that. The energies were quite similar, not entirely but there could be messages for some of you.

Image 4

Your fs could love your femininity and your nurturing qualities regardless of gender. You could be a provider of sorts. You might have a good intuition and your fs loves that divine feminine side of you. Your fs loves how nurturing, soft and compassionate you are. Your fs also thinks you are enigmatic and alluring. You could have emotional depth and you could come across as a bit mysterious. Your fs is intrigued by you but at the same time loves that about you. You could have some specific fears or insecurities and your fs could be aware of them.

Your fs also loves that you are a bit possessive or jealous. You might have a tight grasp on your lovers or romantic relationships. Your fs loves how you are quite possessive over them.

You could be a hard worker and could be financially well off and your fs admires that about you.

You also have a tendency to give too much of yourself or too little of yourself in a relationship. I think it'll be healthy to have balance in your relationship with your fs. There could be a power dynamic of sorts and your fs kinda loves that. You might overextend yourself or give too much and your fs seems to love that regardless of that being a bit unfair. Youcould be carrying a lot of responsibilities and your fs might slack off and expect you to do them. Your plate is full in a way. You could be a risk taker and you just make things happen. Might not be for everyone, but you could be the breadwinner and your fs loves how you manage a lot of responsibilities on your own and never look to their side for support. Some of yall might be giving too little in the relationship, so your fs loves the chase. He loves the challenge and he wants to figure you out. Unravel more and more of you and your secrets. There seems to be a underlying unhealthy dynamic that plays to the benefit of your fs. Regardless your marriage with your fs could be fulfilling and passionate.

You could be highly passionate and sexual. You could be playful and adventurous. You could have a high libido and there also can be a huge emphasis on your physical relationship. There could be over indulgence in sexual activities and your fs loves that. Your fs also loves your daring and fiery nature. You could take charge in the bedroom and even in public life. Your fs could be submissive in a way and he loves the dynamic you have. For this group, your fs loves this dynamic that exists in your marriage and it's coming through strongly and not necessarily your individual qualities.

There could be a lack of balance in this relationship. It's not necessarily bad, if one particular partner enjoys being more dominant and carrying more responsibilities and the other partner is more laidback and less driven naturally and they both consensually agree that it is okay, there's no problem at all. But if overextending yourself isn't your own choice, it's better to achieve more balance in the relationship with your fs and resolve things if there are any visible or invisible problems. This was quite an interesting group.

Thanks for joining me for this reading! 💌

[whore-ibly-hot]

Yan!Mean-Girls x Fem!Reader

"Just Girly Things"

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Bullying (Not at Reader), name callung, nude photos, coercion, dubcon touching, fem pronouns for the yans, mentions of school, general perversion, toxic behaviors, masturbation, sex toys, mean girls, dumbification, buying affection.

(AN: I'm not super proud of this one, but did my best. Never written a fem!Yan before.)

The sound of clicking keypads and the occasional scoff can be heard in Maggie Robinsons loft bedroom. As the most popular girl at Delta High, it was important her room look as perfect as her. She chews on the strawberry flavored gum in her mouth, scrolling through her phone. She scoffs. "Sasha, did you see Jenny Taylor's latest post?" Sasha gags and nods. "Totally a spray-on tan." Sasha says, and Maggie nods. "She looks like a fucking orange. I bet you that nerd she's been with, his dick is that same shade right now..." The two cackle.

"Is he sick?" The third and final member of the group of cheerleaders asks. "Why would his dick be orange?" Sasha sighs, and puts a hand on her friends knee. "Lindsey, his dick is orange because her fake tan would rub off on it. It isn't like, permanently that color. It was a joke." Sasha explains. Lindsey pauses and tilts her head, before giggling. "Oh, I get it!" She claps her hands together, shaking the sequinned bracelet around her wrist as she does so. Maggie grins and roll her eyes at Lindsey's air-headed nature. Luckily, Sasha is always around to explain he jokes, because Maggie won't. She likes to watch her dumb subordinate work things out slowly.

"What about you, newbie? Ever had a fake tan?" She whips her head over to face you. You gulp as the school's queen bee sets her sights on you. You aren't sure why she seemed so fixated on you since you joined Delta High. Maybe it's because you were pretty, or talented, or just really obedient, but she's been dragging you around like a little purse dog since you met her, with Sasha and Lindsey flanking you both at all times. "Um, no." You mumble. She nods, and says "Good, you already have good skin. I mean, you should get a little more tan, but not with that shitty spray stuff. Or, y'know, you'll turn some jocks dick orange." The three laugh. "Because the tan rubs off!" Lindsey giggles. Maggie rolls her eyes, and groans. "Yes, Lindsey. Thanks for explaining." Lindsey looks down.

"Speaking of, have any of the guys at school caught your eye? I mean, like, appropriate ones for you. Not a fucking mathlete dork or something." She asks. "Not really. I've never actually had a boyfriend." The three girls freeze, and gasp. "Seriously?" "You've never had a boyfriend?" Maggie asks. She waves frantically, trying to get you to sit beside her on her bed. "Why not?" She asks. "Do you have a sex disease? Like... like cancer?" Lindsey asks, eyes wide. "Sex cancer, seriously?" Sasha says, glancing at her blonde friend, who only shrugs. "No one was ever interested, I guess." You grimace. You hadn't ever been popular, only making Maggie's interest in you more jarring. You had finally gotten a peek at what it was like to be school royalty.

"Not interested? Aw, you poor baby." Maggie pouts. "That's why you have us, you know? To doll you up, and keep you popular, that way you can have anyone you want." Sasha chirps. "I can't believe no one ever tried to get with you, you're like, really pretty." You smile awkwardly. "Thanks, Lindsey."

Maggie scoots closer, and you bite back a gasp when you feel her cold hands on your tank top, cupping your breasts. "Honestly. The jocks at school are horndogs, they'll stick it in anything, I'm surprised you haven't gotten any attention because of these." She bites her lips as her eyes wander down to your cleavage. "They're natural, right?" You nod. You feel the bed dip behind you, as Sasha and Lindsey join the two of you on the bed. "So you've never kissed anybody?" Sasha asks, tilting her head as her curls bounce. "No, I've kissed a boy, back in church in like, middle school or something." You chuckle, shrugging and rolling your eyes.

"What about kissing girls?" Your eyes widen. You shake your head as you feel the three girls gazes resting heavily on you. "I haven't. Why do you ask?" Maggie grins. "You could try with us. You're one of us now, you've gotta live a little. I mean, you haven't even had a boyfriend, or done it with someone. Let us help you." She coos. She leans in, and you gulp. "Don't you have a boyfriend, Maggie? Jason, right?" She asks. Maggie nods. "Yeah, but like, he won't care. He'll probably think this is hot or something. Besides, it's just girls helping each other out. It's not like a random hookup, we're all friends here." She feigns hurt at your hesitance, pouting. "Don't you like us?" Lindsey whines, giving you puppy dog eyes as she rests her head on your shoulder from behind. "No, I like you guys, it's just-" You look at Lindsey. "Alright, we can do this." You sigh. Maggie grins, and puts her hands on your waist, pressing her chest to yours. "Good, it's not even weird. It's like, just girly things." She explains. She bites your lip playfully, making you blush as she finally presses her lips to yours. As you kiss the school's queen bee, you can taste the light strawberry flavor of her gum, and as she pulls away a string of sticky lip gloss connects your lips for a moment.

"See? You did good, especially for someone who's only kissed once before." Maggie coos. Lindsey pops up to kiss your cheek. "Your skin is so soft!" She giggles, nuzzling your neck. Sasha sits to the side, waiting for orders from Maggie. "Lemme see your chest." Maggie begins to tug up your tight, white tanktop, grinning when she sees that you have no bra on. "No bra, huh? Maybe you wanted us to do this?" She teases. "Pretty..." She circles her fingers around your left nipple, watching it pebble up. "I bet you're sensitive, huh?" Sasha asks. You can't speak, and only nod. Maggie's cold hands make you shiver, as she gropes your breasts with a wicked grin. She reaches down and puts Lindsey's hands on your breasts. "Lindsey, keep playing with her tits, okay? I'm gonna move a little lower." Lindsey nods, fondling your breasts from behind. "I'll try not to scratch you, my nails are kinda long right now..." She giggles. Maggie hikes up your skirt, keeping it around your waist. She licks her lips as she touches the black panties covering your cunt. "Are these from that department store on 9th?" She asks. "Uh, yeah?" She rolls her eyes. "You don't need to be wearing that shit, that's for people like Jenny Taylor, not girls like us. Tell you what-" She leans closer to your ear, kissing the shell of it. "You make me cum, and I'll take you downtown tomorrow and buy you something cute. That's sure to help you get a guy." She obviously has no intentions of getting you a boyfriend, considering the way her gaze turns possessive. Still, she can't deny that she likes the idea of seeing you in something lacey, especially something she bought you. She notices from the corner of her eye how Sasha is squirming, clearly eager to act, rubbing her thighs together subconsciously.

"Sasha?" Her head perks up immediatly, and she stills. "Y-yes, Maggie?" She pants. "Go get my wand, the pink one." Sasha nods, and scurries over to Maggie's closet, digging around for something. She manages to pull out a pink wand, with a microphone-like rubber tip. You can feel Maggies fingers trying to pull your panties to the side. "You ever played with yourself?" She whispers. You nod. "Yeah, a few times." You admit. "How?" She presses an index against your aroused clit. You gasp. "Fingers! I use my fingers, inside me." You moan. She pouts again, as Sasha hands her the wand. "Well, no wonder your little clit is so swollen, you've not been giving it any attention." She coos. "Don't worry, I've got just the thing." She takes the wand from Sasha. "It feels so good." Sasha says, her eyes full of sincerity. You wonder just how many times these girls have done this sort of thign. Does anyone else at school know?

You are torn from your thoughts when you hear a whirring sound. "What's that gonna do?" You ask. "It vibrates, and I'm just gonna press it right up against your clit, okay? It's gonna feel so fucking good..." She groans. "But, I'm going to enjoy something too. You know, for being such a good friend, and taking in a little newbie. You watch as Maggie mounts your thigh, gasping when you feel her slick pussy press against your leg. Has she not been wearing underwear this whole time? Your whole body flinches when you feel a pusling wave in your lower. "A-ah, shit." You grip the sheets of Maggie's bed tightly. Somehow, the stimulation to your clit makes Lindsey's pawing at your chest feel even more pleasurable. Maggie chuckles as she begins to grind herself against your thigh. "Feels good, huh? You like that? Your pretty new friends taking good care of you? Putting a pretty vibrator on your clit?" Her condescedngin tone makes you blush in shame. After a while, her moans grow in volume too. "Fuck, even just your thighs feel good. Maybe, god- maybe soon I'll ride your pussy like this." She groans. "God, not even Jason makes me feel this hot, this wet. That little limp-dick, can't even make me finish." She tilts her head back. "Sasha, take a photo, m' boutta cum." Sasha pales. "I don't... um, can I use you phone, mines dead?" Maggie doesn't open her eyes, but Sasha can sense her rage. "I don't care, just taking the fuckin' photo, I'm so close. C'mon, baby. Cum on my vibrator, I'll buy you something, anything, just do it." You weren't expecting to her Maggie beg for anything in your lifetime, much less for you to cum. Overwhelmed, you feel your orgasm hit hard. "M-maggie, I'm, oh..." She nods rapidly as she practically bounces on your thigh. "Yeah, right there, I'm cumming to..." She pants.

You close your eyes, but still sense a flash of light from Sasha snapping a photo. As your legs shake from the feeling, Maggie casually dismounts your thighs, sitting down on the bed beside you. She kisses your forehead. "You did so good. I'll get you something so cute to wear to school next week." She flips her hair and acts nonchalant, as if she hadn't just held a sex toy to your cunt while she rode your thigh like her life depended on it. "Sasha, let me see that photo." Sasha shows her the phone, and she grimaces. "Ugh, I look so fucking pale. Put a Sepia filter on it or something." Before Sasha can, Lindsay snatches the phone, and lets out a whine.

"Only my hands are in it! What the hell, Sasha!"