#anyways thoughts flowing through my brain tonight

[happylandfill23]

something about cyberdevils i think about often is how shags and ace met

[takamimami]

Omg omg, could I request “Your hand feels so much better than mine.” For Benn Beckman please? I just need more smut of him 🥺💜 thank you so much!! ✨😊

Hello, lovely. Firstly, I want to apologize for how LONG it took me to get to this request and thank you for your patience :3 I said this in a previous request too, but I didn't want to just force myself to write something I wouldn't be proud of, so I needed to wait to find some inspiration for this (on top of being heavily distracted by my other vices lately >.>)

Anyway, this is the first ever piece I've written for Benn, so I hope I did him justice for you!! <3

Benn Beckman x F!Reader - NSFW - “Your hand feels so much better than mine.” STORY UNDER THE CUT - MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI 🔞 CW: SMUT; exhibitionism/public sex, sexual tension, benn's got a filthy mouth, fingering, benn calls you 'doll' and 'good girl' :3, shanks is a menace, why does the red force have trees on deck???, kinda cool but still ---word count 1.7k

Perched underneath one of the trees at the stern of the ship, you flipped through the pages of the newspaper you’d snagged from the vendor on the port town your crew had just left – noting the headline on the innermost page.  

‘Rockstar “Soul King” Joins Straw Hat Pirates – Claims Straw Hat Luffy Lives!’ 

You often found yourself in this same spot when you struggled to fall asleep, your brain running rampant and unrelenting to the exhaustion your body felt. 

“They’ll make anything a headline, these days,” a deep voice echoes over your shoulder, and you fight your initial reaction and do your best to appear unfazed at the frame that stops in front of you. 

Tonight had been the closest you’d come to giving into the game you and your vice-captain had been playing for weeks now. You knew he was giving you your space to sort through your feelings, but the sexual tension between the two of you only grew more intense the longer you tried to ignore it. 

You drop the newspaper down far enough to look up at the tall man, just in time to watch him lift his cigarette to his lips and pull a long drag from it. He lets the smoke flow slowly from his nostrils as he stares down at you, brow cocked as you hold his stare intently. 

“Soul King's not your style, Becks?” You muse, watching the smirk that curls up on his lips when you finally speak to him. 

“Didn’t say that,” he retorts, and you fold the newspaper in half to offer him your full attention. “I just think anyone who thought Straw Hat was dead could use a few extra brain cells.” 

You chuckle and stand from the spot you were leaning against the tree, shifting awkwardly as Benn takes a step toward you. 

“So, doll,” he drawls, “What’s got you awake this late?” 

The knowing smirk on his lips has a blush heating up your cheeks, mind racing back to the booth you two had been cozied up in at the tavern just last night. 

“Just... not tired,” you answer, keeping your words short in case your voice betrays you as you try to feign nonchalance. “You?” 

“Same,” he says flatly, flicking the butt of his cigarette into the dirt and stamping it out with his boot. “Can’t seem to stop thinking about this pretty little thing I was... chatting with tonight. She ran off on me and left me all by my lonesome.” 

Your blush only intensifies as he takes another step closer to you, chin dropping so he can crane over your smaller frame. 

“Starting to think she might be scared of me, or that she’s got someone else warming her bed.” 

You keep your eyes on his lips as he speaks, his voice dropping an octave and sending a surge of desire straight to your core. When he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip your eyes flick up to meet his, feeling his breath tickle your neck as he leans in closer. 

“I doubt it's either of those things,” you manage to form the words despite the tension threatening to consume both of you. “Maybe she just didn’t think you'd feel the same way about her.” 

Benn quirks his brow and you smirk as he offers one of his own, your shoulders relaxing slightly as he snakes a muscled arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. 

“Well, that’s a shame,” he muses, lips just an inch from yours as he speaks, “If she would have opened her eyes a little wider, she might have been able to see just how much I feel for her.” He growls out the last of his sentence and the sound snaps a cord in your mind, your brain unable to control your body as it presses further into him.  

You connect your lips to his and he welcomes the kiss, letting you feel some semblance of control over the situation as you nip and bite at his lips. When he parts them for you, your tongue presses into his mouth fervently, tangling with his own as he grips your hips and guides you back toward the tree you had been leaning against previously.  

Once your back presses against the wood, you feel Benn’s rough hands slide down and grab at the back of your knees, lifting you up towards his chest and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. You feel him growing hard under the pressure of your core against his, and you hiss into his mouth when he ruts his hips against you roughly, the movement full of need and desire as he takes command of the kiss. He pulls his lips from your mouth to pepper wet kisses along your jaw, slowly moving lower as he alternates between open-mouth kisses and gentle nips at your skin. 

A sound from the bow of the ship reminds you where you are, and how exposed the two of you are as you whip your head around, scanning the area for anyone who might be watching. 

“Everyone’s asleep, doll,” he groans against your neck, hips moving again between your legs and causing you to whimper under his touch. “No one’ll see.” 

His words do little to reassure you, so in order to pull your attention back to him, Benn reaches up and tugs at the hem of your top, pulling it down far enough to expose one of your breasts to him before dipping his head down and taking a nipple between his teeth teasingly. 

“Don’t know if I can wait any longer,” he growls, and again your mind melts as he sucks down on the sensitive bud in his mouth, his hand shifting to fumble with the button of your pants as you fist his grey hair. “I shouldn’t admit this, but... I came by your room earlier. Heard all those pretty sounds you were making.” 

Your eyes go wide at his admission, face flushing deeply as he tugs your pants down your legs. 

“Didn’t want to interrupt in case you weren’t alone, but now that I know that wasn’t the case... I gotta know,” his voice hitches as he traces the lace of your underwear, feeling the dampness of them as he strokes over your clothed cunt. 

“Were you thinking of me when you touched yourself, doll? Did you imagine they were my hands?” 

A nod is all you can manage as he tugs your underwear to the side, and a moan slips from your lips as he runs his fingers through your wet folds. 

“Good,” he croons, his face dipping down so that his mouth grazes your earlobe. “’Cause I’ve thought about having your tight cunt wrapped around my cock for ages. Thought about how good those pretty little hands would feel stroking me.” 

A sudden stretch has your eyes screwing shut and your head pressing back against the tree, his thick fingers curling against your walls as he presses two of them deep inside you. You bite your lip to keep quiet, but your moans still manage to slip through as Benn lifts his eyes from your soaking cunt. 

“That feel good, doll?” 

You nod and Benn presses his forehead against yours, commanding your attention as he continues his ministrations. 

“Huh-uh. Use your words.” 

You whimper at the command in his tone, eyes opening to look into his as he awaits your response. 

“Y-yes, Becks,” you whine, your eyes dropping to where he is touching you as another moan escapes you. “Your hands feel so much better than mine.” 

Benn’s eyes twitch and you grip his shoulders as he shifts to pull his erection from his pants, your eyes widening at the considerable size of him.  

“Hmm, I bet this will feel even better than, doll,” he growls as he pulls his fingers from you, using the same hand to stroke himself and lubricate his shaft with your arousal. 

After a few tantalizingly long moments he shifts you higher into his grasp, lining himself up at your entrance and pressing into you slowly as you feel all the air leave your lungs. 

“Fuuuuuck,” he hisses, and you dig your nails into his shoulders as he presses into your fully, giving you a moment to adjust to the stretch of him. 

When he starts moving again your mouth falls open, the drag of his cock along your walls pulling obscene sounds from you and your cunt as he quickens his pace. Your whole body hitches from the power of his thrusts, your back scraping against the bark of the tree with each movement.  

“You like that, doll?” He growls into your neck, sinking his teeth into your neck gently as he tries to muffle the sounds of his own moans. “You gonna sing me a pretty song while you come on my cock?” 

You manage to gasp out a feeble “Yes” as Benn brings his calloused finger to your clit, thumbing gentle circles around it as you feel yourself tighten around him. Unable to contain it any longer, you let your mouth fall open as his name falls from your lips, the pitch in your voice signaling your end as your body begins to shake with pleasure. 

“Good girl,” he croons in your ear, keeping his thrusts precise and sharp as he fucks you through your orgasm.  

Your voice breaks as your mouth goes dry, your labored breathing causing your chest to rise and fall against Benn's as his hips slowly come to a halt. He holds you close, letting his cloak fall over your exposed body. 

“D-did you...” 

“Good Gods, Beck!” You hear a familiar voice call out from the nearby staircase. “When I said ‘by any means necessary’, this is NOT what I had in mind.” 

Your body goes still as you feel all the color drain from your face, blood running cold as you realize that it is the voice of your captain. 

Benn, seemingly unfazed, simply holds you closer to him as he flips Shanks a middle finger, and much to your relief the sounds of laughing and footsteps grow further away as he pulls your pants back up your legs for you. 

“Don’t worry, doll,” he smirks mischievously, tugging you into his arms again and carrying you toward his quarters. “I’m not done with you, yet.” 

✨come say hai :3✨

[irazai]

 . . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 LURE ME IN, PULL ME OUT. SAVE ME ; a osamu dazai fic. ❞

❛ ━━ ･ ❪ did i not die yet?

my heart beats and pumps,

pumps the blood which flows throughout,

though tonight i throw up this blood.

blood coats my hand red,

if i had died, why would i bled?

fleeting through my fingers,

fingers of mine tries to grasp my life,

life which i tried to grasp all this while!

blood coats the floor red,

and red it became the more i bleed.

fleeting is this life though my heart beats,

i am not dead yet, though i bleed.

soon my fate will meet death.

and i will die, won't i? ❫ ･ ━━ ❜

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . i don't really expect this one to be liked as this is an experimental fic anyway but I still want to know your opinion on it if you read it.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; pm!dazai, fem!reader, non established relationship, suggestive themes, kissing, fluff (?), angst, somewhat gore.

the weather hasn't really been the most pleasant since the last three or four hours but you assume it to be normal due to the season it came with.

with a hazy gaze, you stare at the dark grey sky outside as you wait for the first reaction to happen, for the first drop of rain to descend from its grace and onto the hard earth ground.

was this what icarus felt too?

but then again icarus wasn't a teenager in love with a boy who looked at love as not feelings and emotions but rather as chemical reactions and hormones stimulated by the brain.

icarus burned. you do too. perhaps not in the same way but you burn too.

"are you waiting for cats too dear?" a voice so gentle yet tired spoke up and you looked up to see an elderly woman smiling kindly at you. your eyes fell down to see a group of stray cats and you pondered.

her voice felt so warm admist the coldness of the weather that clinged to your skin.

you looked back up at the old woman and nodded, smiling a bit. "yeah. a grumpy one."

the old lady laughed at your words and she approached you, sitting down on the steps of your house next to you and the stray cats followed her. there were five in total, you counted as they surrounded the old lady's feet.

one of the five cats pawed at your leg. you looked down at it and extended your hand to pet it's head before you looked up at the sky again in deep thought.

"so when does your grumpy cat come?" the old lady's voice reached your ears, her words were pure but why did it still feel like she was laughing at you?

mocking you for being so hopeless.

"whenever he wants to." you whisper out. if the old lady wasn't sitting next to you, she wouldn't have heard you. your words were too sad to her though ignorance is bliss. the old lady thought nothing much of your words as she laughed.

"dearie, that's cats for you -- especially stray ones. they come and go. not having a proper house. no owner who showers them with love and so when we give them love, they get confused. they feel weird and dislike it. they leave. and when they are away -- they realize. they want it back. and so these cute furballs come back to get confused again." her words held years of experience. they soothed you and gave you a reason behind the behavior that hurts, effortlessly brightening your mood. it almost felt unnatural how easily her words convinced you and settled within you as if she's luring you in her.

you smiled at the old lady albeit weakly but your lips were tugged upwards by genuine gratitude and hope as you smiled at her, filled with fascination towards her.

"though love is like kummatty or the pied piper of hamelin. it lures you in even when you know it's dangerous. so dearie --" the old lady's voice suddenly dropped down a few octaves as a grave expression took over her old and wrinkled features. you would've have found it a bit unsettling had it not been for the cat at your feet that had your undivided attention. " -- be careful while loving, it'll lure you in one day and . . . even if it isn't love, something else will lure you in."

you felt the old lady shifting next to you before she stood up, causing you to twist your neck to look up at her. the old woman smiled at you kindly and slowly -- as safely as her feeble legs would allow her to -- climbed down the stairs and left. she went on along the sidewalk, though you raised your eyebrows in awe as you saw the five cats following behind her, stumbling and falling over each other. the cats looked like young apprentices following their mentor in olden days where as soon as a kid was old enough to realise how poverty took a liking to his home, he was send off to fend for himself and to bring in some earnings.

you looked at the front again, placing your chin on your knees which were brought near to your chest as you looked up at the sky again, the grey clouds began to clear up a bit though it still looked like it'll rain soon.

the cold breeze made you shiver a bit. though not for long.

you look away from the sky, no longer finding it intresting enough to admire as the images of the cats -- especially the one rubbing itself against your leg -- kept repeating in your mind, making you smile.

how does one get lured?

how does one forget everything and decide to follow a particular path?

"what are you doing outside dumbass?" you hear the cold and void of emotion like voice, causing you to look up to see dazai standing there as he looked down at you with his eyebrows raised, trying to decipher the reason to sit outside during such weather as it's definitely an odd choice.

"waiting for yo --" you stop rather abruptly as you look at him from head to toe to see him covered in blood at many places -- his cheek was stained and so was his white shirt though the black coat hid it well. you looked down and alas so were his boots, stained in blood.

with a panicked urgency, you quickly stood up and grabbed his hand though this time he didn't try to subtly pull it back as he let you step closer to him and leaned in when you placed your palm on his bloodied cheek.

"how did you --"

" -- it's not mine. don't overreact." the mafioso said in a bored tone as he stared at you. he looked at you for a while before he slowly grinned and you wanted to take a step back and shrink into nothingness. that would be better then staring at his cold and empty eyes.

dazai extended his hand to grasp your other wrist, not seeming to mind your sudden stiffness. he had seen this reaction one too many times when curious minds tried to pick apart the mask of the demon but failed, finding the mask glued to the face by some super force.

he tugged at your hand to pull you closer and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a hug.

dazai osamu is still a child. he does not act like it. but he is the same as you. a teenager. not even seventeen yet.

he is a child at core like you are and even if it may not seem like it, you'll pretend it does.

"you stink." you mumble as you ignore the nervous pleading of your heart, nuzzling your face against his bandaged neck.

"no i don't." dazai replied back as he left a small and quick peck to your hair before he moved back.

you roll your eyes at his denial of this topic, knowing that even he knows how he smells of a mix of cigarettes and blood, the smell lingers and hugs him like a sick stalker.

"why do you even have blood on you?" you asked as you quickly opened the door to your house and stepped aside to let him enter first. with a smug wink aimed at you, dazai entered and took of his shoes.

for being such a peculiar boy, he did have some manners as evident by the way he placed his shoes at one corner. you placed your slippers next to his and locked the door before you followed after him.

"curious kitty. aren't you?" his voice is full of mirth, he looked over his shoulder to let you see his expression which is full of amusement as if he finds it entertaining to watch you try to get some kind of information out of him.

you grumbled as you pushed his shoulder though he only chuckled, not minding the pushes at all.

dazai tried to walk towards the living room but you grabbed the back of his suit coat to pull him towards your room instead and he exclaimed in surprise, though he didn't resist or fight back, simply letting you drag him as if he didn't have enough energy or interest in pushing your hands off.

you led him to the bathroom attached in your room, dazai nearly raised his eyebrows in amusement but stopped himself since he wasn't really amused enough. this house in which only you live isn't surprising to dazai as through his connections, he had dug into your background and found out that this house and some wealth were the will of your grandfather who left it all to you. your parents were out of the picture.

"but really, why are you covered in this much blood?" you ask as you signal him to sit on the sink counter while you kneel down to open the cabinet below, getting out a few clean towel rolls and bandages.

though the bandage roll fell from your hands and rolled on the tiled floor when dazai grabbed your jaw in a quick movement, pulling you towards him as he glared at you. eyes void of emotions but that only makes him more terrifying.

"you are a good girl -- always were and always will be. don't test your luck by being a curious kitten. stay my good girl. don't ask unnecessary questions." his voice is low and calm, his words coming out in a murmur.

your eyes were open wide, you nodded quickly. the sharpness in dazai's eyes disappeared and was replaced by a sudden softness. he stopped grabbing your jaw and instead raised his hand to cup your cheek. he pulled you in closer using the gentle hold on your cheek and pecked the bridge of your nose.

once he lets go of you, you stepped back, bending down to pick the the bandage roll which you began to buy and keep ever since meeting him.

you stand again as you face him, not looking him in the eye after the sudden cold outburst while the confident and casual air around you had disappeared. and this caused dazai to heave out a sigh.

"what i did -- i did for you." he revealed only this much as if to just let you see the tip of the iceberg, to let you know of the peace lingering above the calmness.

you placed your hand on his thigh as you leaned up to gently pull on the bandage which covered one of his eyes, whispering, "why?"

dazai stopped as you tugged at the bandage and it fell down in your opened palm. he too wonders why is he even doing this?

you are of no use to the mafia.

you don't give him the same reactions as chuuya does.

yet you are still intresting.

is it the feeling of your soft palms as you cup his cheek with one hand while you softly rub the wet towel on his face with the other to clean it? could be.

dazai wrapped his legs around your waist to pull you closer, you felt your heart beating as he cupped both of your cheeks and pulled you to peck your forehead. "i just do."

you wanted to ask many things but refrain from doing so, choosing to enjoy the feeling of his hands as one of them remained cupping your jaw while the other rested near your ass, on your lower back, to keep you in place as you wrap a new bandage around his eye.

to be honest, dazai knew. he knew why he did what he did and does what he does, it's just that he doesn't see the need to tell you the answer which is being yelled by his heart and seeing how you relaxed again and lost some of your initial fear, dazai feels -- no, he knows, that you either know or have a good grasp of what most of his answer could've been anyway.

"you are weird." you decide to sigh out these words with a smile, moving your face back from his grasp as you pull down at his coat and he lets you, letting you take it off.

is the rush of happiness what icarus felt too? perhaps if icarus didn't dream too high, he would be lured into the deep forests as well.

dazai watched with curious eyes. you stepped out of the bathroom for a while, a matching set of grey sweatshirt and sweatpants. the sight makes dazai to raise his eyebrows, a silent order for you to explain.

"you need some colors in your life and wardrobe. you look so edgy wearing that." you point at his suit and dazai almost rolled his eyes, had the thought of you going out of your way to buy something for someone like him had not entered his mind and settled there.

from there on, the thought grew vines which traveled and gripped at his heart.

"did you buy this for me? you want to be my sugar mommy or something?" dazai smirked yet squealed as you stepped near him, grabbing a handful of his skin and pinching him on his thigh. you don't speak much, the words of the old lady repeating in your mind while you unbutton his shirt and scrub at his hands to get the blood off of him.

the way you look so quiet as you seemed to stare at nothing while cleaning the blood made dazai hesitate to break this silence. he looked at you and he felt his heart beat racing when he saw the hazy look in your eyes. behind you, the sky once again grew hazy and dazai glared at the window behind you. yet you didn't notice anything it seemed, too busy in unbuttoning dazai's shirt button by button.

the cat who sat outside at the windowsill snarled in return.

"you are my kitten." dazai began quietly and you looked up at him with puzzlement dancing all over your features. a confused smile takes over your lips and dazai leans near you, you feel your heartbeat racing as he leans his head till his lips hovered above your's. "you are mine and i'll protect you against everything."

dazai closed the distance between you and him, his hand came to hold your waist and pull you towards him. you closed your eyes as you let your feelings overtake you, wrapping your arms around the neck of the boy who still sat on the sink counter.

his eyes remained open, a blue light eliminated from his palm -- of the hand that was wrapped around your waist -- felt like the first drop of rain of despair for the cat whose fur raised and it glared at dazai.

"you don't need to know what i do and why i do it. just stay as you are now." dazai whispered as soon as he pulled back from the kiss, he hopped down from the counter and removed his unbuttoned shirt. he tossed it on your face, not paying heed to the way you groaned.

"stay as i am now? what's that supposed to mean cryptic bastard?" you ask as you slowly walked behind him, stopping as he sits in the bathtub and his feet nearly dangled off the small bathtub. dazai shooted a finger gun at you which made you scoff while you reached for the water faucet, he isn't going to answer, is he?

the cat blinked, like a stalker it's eyes remained even when dazai leaned up and grabbed your forearm to pull you on top of him. your squeals and his laughs were like poison to the cat. the same cat who affectionately rubbed itself against your leg in the morning is the same cat who now watched with great disgust.

icarus flew. if he didn't, he would've drowned.

the pied piper would've lured him in with masks of interests in his dreams. or perhaps kummatty would've made him think to never stop believing in his dreams, he would've have turned him into a bird and icarus would've flew away and never returned.

"stay as you are -- meaning stay as my little kitty cat. can you meow or purr for me?" dazai raised his eyebrows, it always brought him entertaining joy to see your reactions and even if they aren't as loud or amusing as chuuya's, the way you purse your lips and look away after replying with something snarky always stayed at the back of dazai's mind. it repeated whenever he smoked in the loneliness of the shipping container he calls his shelter.

you know better then to take this moment for granted. you look back at dazai and smile tiredly, resting your head against his shoulder as you wrap your arms around his waist and do not mind the flowing water soak your clothes and make you wet for you feel yourself nearly giggling at the way your legs are on either sides of dazai's waist and his hands wrapped around you. when you leaned your body on him, his arms around you tightened their hold.

he raised one of his hands to pat and comb through your hair while he smirked, tilting his head at the cat. said cat snarled at him again before it hopped down your windowsill and left.

the cat walked for a while before it jumped into a drain and immediately found itself sitting on the lap of the old woman who hummed. the old woman moved back and forth on her rocking chair, humming a tune which enchanted many and it was evident by the way children sat by her feet and mimicked her motions of rocking back and forth. their lips sealed tight by threads being sewed yet they tried to hum along with the old woman, causing blood to flow down their chins yet they didn't mind as theu stared at the old lady with unnaturally wide eyes.

the old lady stopped humming and immediately the children stabbed their fingers into their eyes, blood oozing out as they curled their fingers into their eyeballs.

"you are so so cute. my belladon--" you make dazai to stop speaking, making him go speechless when you splashed a bit of water onto him after having enough of his cheesy flirting though it did get your heart to beat faster but the young age you are is one where intimate feelings such as this makes you cower and feel like hiding behind the exterior of pretend coolness. it's a defense mechanism of sorts but dazai has always broken through every defense so what is yours infront of him?

your smug grin disappeared as you saw him cough without intending to stop soon. you leaned closer to his face as you tried to grasp at the curves of his jaws so you would be able to have a better view of his face and check for any damage you may have caused yet the moment your fingers grasp his jaw, dazai grabbed both of your wrists as he leaned forwards to kiss you again. and you let him. his arms came to wrap around you again.

and once again you missed the blue glow they emitted as all you could focus on was the gentle way dazai's hands inched closer to you till one of them rested at your nape and the other at your hip while he left little pecks and kisses on your lips, not pulling or letting you pull back once.

the pied piper or kummatty may just be figures associated with children and to scare them by exaggerating (though is it a exaggeration?) abduction but the old lady you met -- the one who is currently smiling cruelly as she watches children pull out their eyeballs and see the optic nerve -- is one who will try to lure you in and dazai won't let it.

it isn't related to the mafia, the child abducting old lady isn't a concern of port mafia and neither is she a danger to dazai's life. his nullifying ability will act if she ever tries to activate her ability on him which works by the contact of her or her cats with the victim.

though you do not need to know of this or even worry as dazai will make sure you don't end up in the old lady's grasp and don't suffer the same fate as many of her previous victims. he always was a bit more protective and possessive when it came to you anyway.

after all, he is a good boy --- an angel.

[dreamersdreamdreams]

omg your yandere cheater boss fix is soooooo good I really do hope you make it into a series I’m like super invested now😍😍😍 maybe can you do a part three where reader gets Stockholm syndrome because they’ve gotten no social interaction other than b/n and b/n has been begging for forgiveness 24/7. Anyways I LOVE you’re writing and I hope you’re doing well☺️🫶

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ the boss part three -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

content : angst and smut ( minors do not interact )

warnings : yandere themes

key : b / n = boss’s name

author’s note : thank you so much for your request 🫶🏻 i hope you are doing well too , i hope you enjoy this if you are reader

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

It was another day. You only knew that because you had watched the sun set and rise once again. You spend your day mindlessly wandering around the penthouse, waiting for b/n to return home. You clean, cook, and take care of yourself, the only thing motivating you was the love from b/n that you so desperately craved. As soon as you hear the roar of his expensive car, you run to the door to greet him with the greatest smile. “Hello, my love,” he mumbles in a groggy voice. Your heart pangs at the name. “Hello, b/n,” you day softly. “I am so exhausted, y/n. Do you mind if we skip dinner tonight?” “Not at all” you say while the steaming dinner is set on the table. B/n grabs your tiny hands in his hand and leads you to the bedroom. He drops his briefcase on the floor and immediately pulls you in to kiss him. The kiss was rough. You tell he was searching for something good in the long day he had. His hands begin to grab at every curve of your body. He picks you up and throws you on the bed aggressively. Something in that moment made tears start to flow from your eyes. Maybe it was the pain of being thrown on the bed or the seeming lack of love in his movements, his body taken over by lust. B/n is finishing undressing when he sees the tear droplets fall from your eyes onto the sheets. “I can’t do this tonight, y/n,” he says in frustration. You curl up into yourself in the silk sheets, hiding the most private parts of you. “I just want you to love me” you choke out in a sob. B/n grabs your face and smears the tears across your cheeks with his thumbs. “I remind you every day, y/n. I do love you.” You shake your head from side to side as tears roll down your cheeks. “If you loved me you wouldn’t have cheated,” you tell him while staring into his eyes with blurry vision. “I did it for us. I did it because I love you, y/n,” he asserts, gaslighting you. “I know,” you reply instinctively. He grabs your arm in a painful grip. “Then why do you keep this up, y/n,” he argues in frustration. He slams your arm on the bed, trapping you beneath him. You try to pull your arm away from the pain, but your strength could never match b/n’s. He enters into you all at once. You scream at the pain that rips through your body. He immediately starts to move in and out of you at an ungodly pace. You continue to sob throughout the night. The memories of him cheating play in your mind like some horror movie. You came quickly but you no longer felt the high you once felt; it was just a painful ritual at this point. It felt as though you were trapped in purgatory. As soon as b/n finished, he collapsed beside you and fell asleep. He left you alone with your empty thoughts. Would you ever experience true love with b/n again? No, but your corrupted brain could no longer process such realistic thoughts.

[thicccshady]

Mind If I Sit Here?☕️

Eminem x Reader

✨️MasterList✨️

Content: light smut

The coffee shop smelled like roasted beans and faint cinnamon, a cozy escape from the bitter Detroit chill outside. You always came here to write, to feel the pulse of the city without getting swept up in it. Tonight, though, your focus was scattered. The draft of your novel sat neglected on your laptop screen while you absentmindedly doodled hearts in the margin of your notebook.

The bell above the door jingled, and a gust of icy wind followed the newcomer. You didn’t look up at first—Detroit was full of strangers passing through—but when the man muttered something low and gravelly to the barista, your pen froze mid-doodle.

That voice.

Your gaze lifted slowly, trying to play it cool. Black hoodie, leather jacket, gray beanie pulled low, and piercing blue eyes that darted around the room like they were looking for an escape route. You swallowed hard. Marshall Mathers. *Eminem*. The man whose lyrics you had memorized like scripture during high school.

You tried to look busy as he grabbed his coffee and scanned the room. Every seat was taken except for the one directly across from you.

“Mind if I sit here?” His voice broke through your thoughts.

Your eyes snapped up, and for a moment, you forgot how to speak. He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with faint amusement.

“Uh, no—yeah! I mean, go ahead,” you stammered, internally cringing at yourself.

He slid into the chair, setting his coffee down with a quiet clink. For a while, he didn’t say anything, just pulled out his phone and scrolled absently. You pretended to write, but your fingers hovered uselessly over the keyboard.

“You a writer?” he asked suddenly, glancing at your screen.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah. Trying to be, anyway.”

“What’s your story about?”

You hesitated. “It’s, uh… personal.”

He nodded like he understood that better than most. “Those are the best kind.”

The small talk eased the tension, and soon the conversation flowed naturally. He was surprisingly easy to talk to, asking questions about your work, your favorite music, your life. You managed to keep your inner fangirl in check, even as he leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table, the faint scent of his cologne filling the space between you.

Then, without warning, he smirked—a little cocky, a little playful. “You’re staring.”

You flushed, looking away quickly. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Sure you weren’t,” he teased, leaning back in his chair.

The air between you shifted, the playful banter crackling with something deeper. He held your gaze, his blue eyes darkening just enough to make your pulse quicken.

“I’ve been told I’m distracting,” he said, his voice low, almost a purr.

You swallowed hard. “A little.”

A slow smile spread across his face, and he leaned in again, closing the distance between you. “Maybe you need a break from writing.”

Your breath hitched. “And what would you suggest?”

He didn’t answer—not with words, anyway. His hand brushed yours, the touch deliberate but not forceful. When you didn’t pull away, he leaned closer, his lips ghosting against your ear.

“I could show you,” he murmured.

Your brain short-circuited, and before you knew it, you were following him out of the café, the cold night air biting at your skin. He led you down the street, turning into an alley lit only by a flickering streetlamp.

It was reckless. It was crazy. But when he pressed you against the brick wall, his hands bracketing your hips, all logic went out the window. His lips found yours, the kiss rough and urgent, like he’d been holding back all night.

His hands slid under your coat, gripping your waist as he deepened the kiss. You clung to him, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his hoodie. He tasted like coffee and something darker, something that made your knees weak.

“Damn,” he muttered against your lips, his breath warm and ragged. “You’ve got me breaking all my rules.”

“What rules?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“Don’t get involved. Don’t get distracted.” His lips brushed against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “But you…”

You pulled him closer, your hands slipping under his jacket. “Maybe you need a break too.”

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, before his lips found yours again. The world around you disappeared, leaving only the heat between you and the pounding of your heart.

For one night, nothing else mattered.

✨️Want to know when I post? Click here to join my taglist!✨️

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom

Getting the Numbers Right

I glare at Billy. The empty eye sockets glare back. 

“You’re nothing like John,” I tell him.

Billy stays silent. He often does. Especially after John moved in and I didn’t need him for a sound board anymore.

“No one is like John,” I mutter.

“How long has he been gone? Is she the one who will hold his attention longer than two dates?"

Billy’s mocking tone puts my nerves on edge.

“If I text him now, about a case, he will abandon her without a second thought,” I inform the obnoxious skull.

If Billy was still able to roll his eyes, this would be the moment for it.

“To answer your first question, he’s been gone for one hour and forty-seven minutes.”

“Trust you to know to the second how long he’s been out.”

I roll my eyes because I can, and huff loudly.

“Getting the numbers right is just a way to keep my brain occupied while I’m talking to you. Now, to your second question. This one, Jeanette? Lisa? Sarah? is number six in as many months. John looked exactly the same as he does before every second date he’s been on since he moved in here. My analysis will prove that he’ll end it. Tonight, or by text tomorrow.”

“You seem awfully sure about this. What if this one is the exception.”

It turned out that Billy was right for once.

***

“Alright, I’m off. See you in a week,” John says and hoists his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t forget to eat.”

“Why?” I mumble into the sofa cushion.

“Because I don’t want to come home to a corpse, you git,” John explains.

“Why bother coming home at all if you’re moving in with what’s-her-name anyway,” I protest.

A foreign sensation is starting in my throat. It thickens and something is burning behind my eyelids. 

“Sentiment!”

“Shut up, Billy!” I yell.

“Moving?” John asks incredulously. 

A thump startles me. John has dropped his bag to the floor, and his palm is warming my shoulder.

“Hey, what’s wrong, Sherlock?” John asks, clearly worried.

“Nothing. You’ll miss your train,” I say and curl in on myself, trying to shake off John’s hand without succeeding.

“You’re trembling,” John states and places his other palm on my forehead to check for fever.

“Am not,” I say, but something is wrong with my voice.

It’s hoarse because of my swollen throat. My nose fills with moisture, overflows, and my philtrum is suddenly soaked with snot. Both cheeks are wet with shed tears, which I evidently have an endless amount of. 

“Sherlock? Talk to me,” John pleads. “There’s clearly something bothering you.”

To my utter dismay, the tears keep flowing and my chest has started to ache. A sob is impossible to stifle. It’s a sound I haven’t heard myself produce since I was a child.

Another sound catches my ears. John is tapping on his phone. The absence of his warm hands is unsettling. I feel…bereft. To my relief it doesn’t last long. His strong fingers rake through my hair, and his other hand stroke my upper arm.

“I really wish I didn’t have to go, Sherlock, but this conference is…shit…look. I’m postponing my departure a few hours, and I won’t stay the whole week, just the three days that are inevitable, alright. But I need you to talk to me. Tell me what all this is about. And I swear, if this is just shamming…”

“It’s not,” I croak. “I’ve come to realise…you…John…I can’t…I won’t cope when you move…”

“Shh, now. No one is moving. Didn’t you deduce that I broke it off with Jeanette last month? You must stop talking to Billy. He’s an idiot,” John murmurs.

Strong arms turn me, but I can’t bear to look at John when my face is covered in snot and tears. Instead, I bury it in the crook of his neck, and the familiar scent instantly soothes me. My body goes limp, and the tears stop falling.

***

It’s a totally different experience when John prepares his second departure. He holds my head in his hands, looks me square in the eyes and talks softly.

“Keep busy. Count the days, minutes, seconds until I’m back if you must. Perform safe experiments. Eat. Stay hydrated. Text me if you need to. I won’t always be able to answer right away, but whenever I can, I will. We can talk when I’m finished for the day. Video calls. I’ll want to see you to know that you’re okay.”

He pulls me down and kisses me so tenderly, I’m tempted to start crying again. I hold the back of his head carefully and puts all my love for him into the kiss.

“I love you. I’ll miss you. Come back to me,” I murmur into his hair when we break the kiss and we’re holding each other tight.

“I will, Sherlock. I’ll miss you too. I always miss you when I’m not with you. Love you too. Now, start counting,” you say. 

You stroke my cheek, then leave. I start counting the seconds, minutes and days until we’re reunited.

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @keirgreeneyes @raina-at

@helloliriels @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitch-adler @phoenix27884 @topsyturvy-turtely

@peanitbear @meetinginsamarra @bs2sjh @a-victorian-girl @221beloved

@ninasnakie @jolieblack

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Eyes On Me (Chris Fehn x Fem! Reader) FLUFF

So, in the midst of the holiday craziness, one of my dear friends decided to ignite this bombshell of a hyper fixation in my brain. So, uh, maybe add a bit of Slipknot to the rotation since some other things have been put on hiatus.

You're on tour with Slipknot, Chris likes to flirt with the pretty girl that works with the band, chaos ensues.

WARNINGS: Swearing, suggestive comments, Chris is a bit of a perv, but honestly if you're reading this you probably expect all of this anyways lol, tooth rotting fluff of my favorite percussionist 🖤

My Masterlist! ~ Tip Jar! ~ AO3 Link!

Divider credit: @adornedwithlight

Waking up in a hotel on tour was always a strange experience. The band had stopped to play 3 shows in the same city back to back, meaning that for a few days you would be freed of the cramped confines of the tour bus. You squinted, slamming your head into the pillows in an attempt to block out the assault from the early morning sun. You could hear your neighbors talking loudly through the wall. Chris and Sid were already full of energy. You jolted up in bed as there was sudden banging of a fist behind your bed. “Anyone alive in there?!” Chris yells.

“Chris it is 8 in the morning!” You shout back. “Unless you're buying me breakfast you better shut up!”

“If you want breakfast, get your ass out of bed!” You freeze at his words, was he seriously offering to take you out to eat? “Be ready in five, sweetheart, I'll be right over.” You could hear Sid struggling to hold back his giddy laughter. You scrambled out of bed, of course he would pull some shit like this. You rush to the bathroom, quickly washing your face and throwing on some of the fastest makeup you've done in your entire life.

“Shit!” You cursed, tripping over yourself as you struggled to pull on your pants, Chris’s loud knocking on your door ringing through the hotel room. You and the band’s percussionist had been flirting for a while. Chris, albeit unsettling at first, couldn't keep his eyes off you from the beginning.

“Well, good morning beautiful.” The same eyes that made your heart stop every time you met them.

“Good morning, yourself.” You snap back playfully.

“Aw, did I wake you?” He coos, cupping your face in his hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Poor baby. Come on, I'll make up for it.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, leading you out of the hotel tucked safely into his side.

You found yourselves at some hole in the wall diner, serving up the greasiest breakfast food you've ever witnessed. Plates piled high with bacon, sausage, eggs, and a multitude of other sides, whatever you ended up deciding on surely wasn't going to disappoint. The morning with Chris flowed by effortlessly. He kept you laughing the entire time, every so often tossing in a compliment about how pretty he thought your smile was, teasing you whenever he had noticed your flustered state. “Are you going to come watch me play tonight?” He asks with a mischievous grin.

“You're acting like I'm not there every night.” You respond with a smirk.

“Yeah, but you're there to watch the band, you're not watching me.” You could hear his fingers nervously drumming on the counter top.

“Do you really think I could possibly keep my eyes off you?” He breathes out a laugh, shrugging into his jacket. “We should get going, you’ll be late for sound check.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He better be out here in five minutes or I'm going to personally go in there and kick his ass.” You laugh as Corey yells.

“I'll get him out here, don't worry!” You reassure him as you slip inside the dressing room.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” You can't help but roll your eyes as you watch the smirk immediately spread across his features. “A pre-show visit from you, I must’ve been a good boy.” He chuckles. You wordlessly grab the black grease paint from his bag, perching yourself on the arm of his chair. It was irritating how good he looked, his jumpsuit mostly unzipped, his skin glowing with the thin sheen of sweat he had worked up from warming up before the show.

“You need to be out there in a few minutes and you’ve barely started to get dressed, someone has to make sure you make it out on stage.” Despite trying your best to seem annoyed, Chris didn't miss how you were struggling to keep the flustered smile off your lips. You had been working with the band for a while, originally having started off as a roadie, but it quickly became apparent how good you were at wrangling the band’s more hyperactive members. Chris clocked you instantly. At first he thought it was funny. He would sit somewhere backstage and stare at you, chuckling to himself when you would eventually scurry off. It's not that you minded, his staring was never malicious or mean in any way. But, goddamn, was it distracting. After a little while it finally dawned on him that you weren't running away out of fear, you were running away because you were flustered. Every so often he would watch the blush spread across your cheeks when he had been caught staring, how every time you would run off to take care of something else you would always glance back at him just one more time before disappearing.

“What would I do without you?” He says with a teasing smile. You craned over him, haphazardly covering his skin with the paint. You let out a surprised squeak as one of Chris's hands wraps around your waist. He pushes you off the arm of the chair, you bounced slightly as you landed in his lap. “Probably a little bit more comfortable like this.” He raises an eyebrow playfully at you, waiting to see what kind of response he would elicit. Your face burned, your mind completely blank as you tried to process just what the hell was happening. He was so warm, you could feel one of his legs bouncing anxiously underneath you as he sat and wondered just how royally he had fucked up. You try to return your focus to applying his paint, a task that only becomes more difficult as you feel one of his massive hands wrap around your thigh. He enjoyed having you so close, being able to trace over every detail of your features. “You are stunning.” He states under his breath.

“Thank you.” You reply with a flustered smile. “You didn't,” you cleared your throat, your voice cracking slightly as you spoke, “you didn't forget your mask did you?” You jump as he slaps his hand down on the table at his side, he smirks as he holds up his mask.

“Did I forget my mask?” He mocks, he watches you relax as he manages to make you laugh. “Put it on me.” It wasn't a request. The buckles clink together as he lets it fall into your lap. His striking blue eyes hold you frozen in place as you timidly pick up his mask. The metal was cold against your palm, the leather smooth between your fingers as you moved the straps out of the way. He pulls the hood over his head before allowing you to sit the piece carefully over his features, making sure it was properly in place before tackling all of the buckles. He doesn't take his eyes off you as you make quick work of securing everything in place.

“Hang on, this one’s a little stuck.” One of the straps had gotten caught on its buckle, halting your process momentarily. You gave it one firm tug in order to free it. Chris hisses as the mask catches, the strap noticeably digging into his skin. You hurriedly begin to apologize, moving to undo the strap only for his hand to grab both of yours, pulling them away from his face.

“Don't worry, pretty girl. I'm alright.” His eyes flicker over your features. “Hurt me all you want baby, I like a little pain.” Your cheeks burn as you stare down at him. He breathes out a laugh as his gaze drops to your lips.

“Chris, come on! We gotta go!” Sid freezes when he sees the situation at hand.

“Animals.” He spits through a cackle. “Chris is getting FRISKY.” He bellows, slamming the door behind him.

Chris chuckles, helping you stand. “Guess we should get this show on the road. Wouldn't want them getting any angrier.” Your heart was racing as you followed Chris out of the dressing room, wiping your sweaty palms down the front of your pants. It didn't take long for him to get back to his usual antics. Every so often Chris would walk up to you, sometimes giving you a reason, other times just staring at you in silence until you acknowledged him.

“Need something, Chris?” Silence. You look at him, a smirk playing on your lips. “You know, you make it a little hard to do my job sometimes.” He takes a few long, fast strides towards you, causing you to stumble back slightly until you were trapped between him and the wall. He leans down, bringing his face level with yours. He presses the nose of his mask against yours, making you giggle. You playfully swat at him, “I have work to do.”

“Has anyone seen Mick’s extra pics?!” You shout, rifling through a case that had been tossed in the side. Suddenly, something cold and pointy pressed into your cheek.

“You're looking a little stressed, baby.” Your ears are met with Chris's playful tone as he pokes your face with the nose of his mask.

You let out an exasperated sigh, “Chris, I don't have time for this, I need to find–” He opens your hand, dropping three pics into your palm. You cringe slightly, realizing he was just trying to help.

“Just relax, sugar. I'll take good care of you.” A shiver runs down your spine at his flirty tone. Your eyes meet his before you slowly let your gaze drop down to his lips.

“Play a good show and maybe I'll let you.” A strangled sound escapes him as whatever crass response he had come up with died in his throat. He watches as you carefully press your lips to the nose of his mask. “Knock ‘em dead for me.”

“You got it, angel,” he breathes out through a laugh, “just make sure you keep those pretty eyes on me, okay?” He responds flirtatiously as you flit past him, hurrying to deliver Mick his missing picks. He can't help but smile as he catches you glancing at him over your shoulder.

Chris took your request to heart, hoping his rockstar status was enough to keep you from punching him in the face for what he had planned. He played his soul out that night. Jumping and thrashing around like you had never seen before, he was mesmerizing to watch. At one point meeting your gaze across the stage, the two of you share a moment, screaming the lyrics from your favorite song off the setlist. He loved watching you dance just off stage, you were stunning, and you were looking only at him.

After the concert was over he powers up to you. His shoulders heaved with every labored breath, sweat dripping down every exposed inch of skin. “Get this fucking mask off me.” He growls, grabbing onto you and pulling you close. You waste no time granting his request, his hands hot against your skin where they cling desperately to your waist. The second you finish with the last buckle Chris rips the mask from his face, throwing it on the floor to focus on the task at hand. He grabs your face in his hand, his fingers pressing into your cheeks with near bruising force as he crushed his lips against yours, his black paint smearing across your features, officially marking you as his in his eyes. His free arm circles around your waist, pulling you flush against him. There were various cheers, screams, and a few gags from the rest of the band.

“Jim, you owe me money!” Mick yells with a laugh.

“What the hell are you– oh... Dammit Chris, you couldn't have waited until we got back on the bus?!” You can't help but smile as you feel him chuckle against your lips.

“Did I play a good enough show, sweetheart?” He asks with a smug smirk, not giving you time to answer before kissing you again.

[whenlostinthedarkness]

Clarity

Pairing: Ellie x Reader

Warning: Alcohol intake

Summary: You get to know Ellie a bit more when the both of you are paired up on a patrol route. When Ellie asks you to hang out..you don’t expect what happens next. Sorta angsty, but lots of fluff too

AN: Got this AU from @dailyau and had to run with it; “I thought you asked me on a date but turns out it’s a group hang”.

Word Count: 3.4k

---

Present Day

The sun had just begun to set on Jackson as your feet moved against the paved road.

All the nerves you’d been feeling for the past two days were continuing to feel like static through your hands and legs, but you couldn’t deny the equal amount of anxiety and excitement you had for tonight.

Ellie had asked you out.

Ellie-fucking-Williams asked you out.

---

Past

You ended up having to cover for someone on patrol last minute. Thus, you ending up on a patrol route with Ellie. When the both of you weren’t shanking clickers in the head or searching through a building to ensure it was clear, the conversation was constant and flowing naturally. And even though it had only been a one day thing, you couldn’t help but feel butterflies for the auburn haired girl anytime she looked at you that day.

Ellie was someone you would consider an acquaintance. You knew of her, and let's be honest, who didn’t know who she was in Jackson, but the most you’d gotten to actually know her prior to this was quick ‘hello’s’ and friendly smilies while walking by one another.

That night, when you had both checked back into Jackson, post-route, Ellie ended up walking home with you-Insisting that you didn’t live far from her anyways and she was enjoying your company.

Watching her speak was truly a masterpiece. Her facial expressions when she was telling a story, the way her full lips moved as she spoke, her body language as she used her hands and arms to speak along with her. Masterpiece.

God, and her smile. Such a simple thing to do, yet she made it look ten times as beautiful compared to all the smiling faces you’d ever seen. The way her eyes would reflect against the street lights as her nose scrunched up, making her freckles that much more pronounced and complementing to her facial features.

As you reached the front door of your home that night, you found yourself not wanting the conversation to end; Ellie felt the same as well.

“So uh-h. Would you uh..maybe want to hang out sometime?”, Ellie asked cautiously as her eyes diverted away from you and one of her hands came up to scratch at the side of her neck in a fidgeting action.

Suddenly, the butterflies in your stomach were lurching from within, past your lungs and up into your throat until they were fluttering around you, making your face glow with a nervous smile that you were trying so very hard to not make stretch across the entire width of your cheeks.

“I’d love to Ellie.”

--

Present Day 

Two days had passed since that day with Ellie. Two days of thinking and wondering and rehearsing what you would say, how you would say it ; what you would wear and how you would wear it. 

Your mind had been busy, that was for sure.

Ellie was also finding herself daydreaming about what the night would look like...which included pestering her friends about you every conversation.

---

Past: Ellie POV

“D, you don’t understand.”

Dina rolled her eyes as Ellie and her walked side by side, “I get it Ellie! She’s hot and you like her.”

Ellie felt you like a racing horse in her veins. Her thoughts being utterly and completely consumed by your last interaction. 

“Fuck, how could one day with this girl entirely alter my brain?”, Ellie thought.

“Sorry, I know I keep going on and on and on about this chick-”

“Mhmm”, Dina hummed, looking at Jesse on her other side with a smile.

“-but I just really want to make a good impression on her so you have to be good.”

“When are we ever not good Ellie?, Jesse mused as he peaked in front of Dina to glance over at Ellie with a mischievous smile.

“I’m serious guys! I don’t wanna fuck this up.”

Dina shook her head as her and Jesse exchanged matching laughs, “Chill Ellie, we’ll be good!”

Ellie seemed satisfied with Dina’s answer as she turned to look straight ahead and continue walking down the road.

---

Present Day

You could see it in the near distance. The large wooden building adorned with its very own etched sign that twinkled against the fairy lights that swayed on the edges of the awnings. It truly acted like a lighthouse among the darkness of Jackson in the evening hours. 

The bottoms of your only non-ripped or stained combat boots kept your body moving as the lights became brighter the closer they got, until your hand was resting on the cold metal door knob of the Tipsy Bison.

Your body seemed to pause as all of the thoughts and feelings and nerves caught up to you all at once. 

What if you both didn’t vibe this time for some reason?

What if it was awkward?

What if we didn’t have anything to talk about?

What if I hyped this up too much?

“’cuse me,” a deep voice spoke behind you, making your body physically jolt.

The man towered over you with a kindness in his eye and smile on his lips. “You heading in?”

You nodded, embarrassed by your body freezing and disregarding the life around you for a moment, simply because you were nervous over some girl that you met two days ago.

“Get your shit together,” you internally yelled at yourself.

“Allow me then.”

You moved your eyes from your hand back to the stranger before you took the hint and dropped your hand from the doorknob as the man reached out his hand to pull open the door; an immediate sound of various conversations and clinking glasses overtaking the once bare quiet you had experienced walking over here.

You were left alone now as the man went his own way. Immediately, your eyes began scanning the crowd in search of a place where you belonged among all of these people. It was rush hour, as you liked to call it. A time just after dinner, when most people’s job duties of the day were over and allowed time for rest and unwinding. The majority of Jackson was in attendance it seemed as your eyes squinted, trying to differentiate between all of the bodies, until your eyes met Ellie’s green ones.

Your smile widened as the both of you made eye contact and Ellie’s hand raised up in the air to wave you over. You couldn’t move your feet faster as you bobbed and weaved through the crowd of primarily tipsy attendees.

But finally, you made it.

“Hey you”, Ellie smiled, raising her chin up in the air to greet you just before she lifted her honey colored glass to her lips, her eyes still holding themselves on you.

“Hey yourself”, you greeted with a smile as you relaxed your elbow on the edge of the bar with your body turned towards Ellie.

Ellie wore a faded grey plaid shirt that was relaxed in fit, yet didn’t shy away from her lean figure that hid underneath the fabric. The sleeves were rolled up just below her elbows, perfectly showing off the fern that adorned her fore arm as well as the slight tan that had settled in below it.

Her hair was pulled back this time, allowing full access to her facial features, unlike her messy half up style she was sporting the day you first interacted with her on patrol.

Not that you were complaining.

As you were busying your eyes by taking in Ellie, she too was mimicking your behavior; Taking in your hair, your clothes...how your body looked in the clothes. Her pupils were growing by the second as she devoured you more and more with her gaze.

Of course, neither of you noticed the other fawning after the other. Conveniently, you both were grabbing eyefuls at the exact same time, keeping the nerves warming within your stomach a secret to the other person.

“Ow,” Ellie yelped, feeling a nudge at the back of her shoulder, almost forgetting the two friends that were accompanying her tonight. 

This broke both of your trances as you looked towards Ellie with a concerned look on your face.

“Oh yeah..these are my friends Dina & Jesse.” Ellie gestured to both of them as they smiled at you, quietly analyzing the girl Ellie had hyped up to them for nearly 48 straight hours.

But what Ellie didn’t know was the way your heart instantly began to sink; a literal drop in the middle of your torso as you began to put together the pieces of the puzzle.

You weren't the only one invited to this night out at the Tipsy Bison. This wasn’t a fucking date at all, this was...just a casual night out with her friends. Ellie wanted to be your friend. Just your friend.

How could you have been so stupid?,” You thought to yourself as your lips pulled down into a frown that quickly changed into a faux smile as your manners kicked in and you looked at the two strangers stood at Ellie’s side.

“Hi”, you said timidly, with a shake of hand to each of them as you attempted your very best at ensuring nothing was wrong.

Nope. Everything was fine. You totally weren’t feeling like a complete and utter fool who had envisioned a date night perfectly crafted by a human who was perfectly sculpted in your eyes.

Though you were trying your absolute best to completely mask your true feelings to the outside world, Ellie, of course, noticed. Her eyes had been trained on your mouth after all, so when it faltered, turning from a grin that cascaded downwards into an unhappy expression, she quickly looked to your eyes to tell her the truth. But even your eyes knew how to cover up your feelings or at least leave them to be hidden behind a dark veil.

Ellie disrupted the silence with a brief introduction of her friends. Sensing the thick tension in the room, that she wasn’t sure was a figment of her imagination or the truth, but either way, this was her one shot at getting you on a good note with her closest friends and she wanted to make it as smooth as possible.

Dina and Jesse went back and forth about their lives in Jackson, all of you finding a common ground seeing as you were in the same age group, same town, and same fucked up apocalyptic world.

However, the entire time you felt your mind was blurring every word; Never fully paying attention because it wasn’t allowing you to hold concentration on small talk when you felt a massive amount of grief for the scenario you thought would happen tonight.

Ellie could tell things were off, despite your best efforts. She didn’t know how or why, but you were different somehow.

She would mentally scoff at herself for thinking such a thing when you were a new human to her mind, but then your lips would fall almost immediately after a, what appeared to be, dead smile grace your mouth. Or your eyes weren’t holding any sort of real emotion to them, almost as if you were going through a robotic set of motions that was covering the bare minimum when it came to social standards.

And that’s exactly what you were doing.

Now, it wasn’t that you were upset with having to share Ellie’s attention, it was more so the fact that you had dreamed too much about this evening and how it would go. You were mourning a night that you thought would go entirely different than it was currently.

If Ellie had just mentioned to you that her friends would also be there, it wouldn’t have made you feel this god awful. Sure, you would’ve felt a little disappointed, but at least you could’ve dreamed up thoughts that could’ve actually happened in this exact scenario. Instead, it felt like you were dreaming up a fairytale evening that had a surprise curve right smack dab in the middle of it.

At least you were able to admire Ellie in her lightly intoxicated state as all four of you emptied your third..maybe fourth drink of the night. Dina was nuzzled into her, what you assumed to be, partner, Jesse, as she rested her head on his shoulder, her back leaning onto his chest as his hand naturally rested on the side of her body.

“I think I’m going to head out,” Dina spoke drowsily as she let out a loud yawn, one that had Ellie laughing as she patted her friend on the back.

“Yeah me too..I think they close soon anyways.” As the last word gently slurred off of Ellie’s tongue, her eyes drifted from her friends to yours.

“Can I walk you home?”

All of a sudden you felt shy about having one on one time with the girl you were currently fond of, but you still nodded in agreement. “I’d like that.”

Even if you weren’t entirely sure if you did want that.

The four of you headed out the door once your tabs were paid. A harsh breeze was in the air, one that must’ve came in while you all were indoors. 

Dina & Jesse quickly said their goodbyes as they both clutched their jacket’s closer to their bodies to keep in as much of their body heat as possible.

“Fuck, it’s freezing,” Ellie mimicked her friends movements as she squeezed her body together as much as she could while her hands stuffed far down into the deep pockets of her jacket.

“Do you want my extra set of gloves”, you offered, noticing Ellie’s teeth beginning to chatter from the cold.

Immediately, Ellie closed her mouth, clenching her teeth together as hard as she could to disguise her discomfort, even though her skin felt like it was being pricked by a thousand little needles with each gust of the wind. 

No, Ellie was strong. Ellie didn’t need any help - at least that’s what she liked to tell herself. Appearing weak to you would make Ellie not strong in your view point, again, at least thats what she like to tell herself.

“’M fine.’

You laughed, reaching for the extra set of gloves in your pocket despite and grasping them in your already clothed hand, “Ya sure? You look kinda cold.”

“N-n-no, I’ve got it, thanks.” Ellie chattered as her thoughts scolded her body to just act fucking normal.

“Ellie, please.” Ellie looked up at you as you spoke, “just take them.”

Your tone was small yet stern, something Ellie didn’t mind from you as she nodded and took the extended gloves from your hand.

You watched as she unveiled her bare hands, the skin on them a burning red color that could barely grasp the material to begin with.

This made you chuckle in a quiet manner, yet still didn’t go unnoticed as Ellie slid the material over the palm of her hands.

“Something funny?”

You shook your head as you continued to watch the stubborn auburn haired girl struggle to get a simple winter essential onto her hand. “You always this stubborn?”

Ellie quirked up, noting the drastic difference in how you were acting inside the bar and now that you both were alone. Much more relaxed, silly, and not afraid to speak her mind. 

“Someones feeling better I see.” Ellie’s words dripped with a teasing nature, yet it made you feel so deeply self conscious that she was able to tell that you were not feeling like yourself.

You didn’t say anything despite Ethels prying eyes attempting to get a word out of you. Instead, the both of you simply started walking, and quickly, to your home that was just down the road.

“Did you have a good time tonight?”

Ellies voice was almost screeched as she attempted to talk over the wind and snow swirling around in the air. 

“What?!”, you yelled, getting a laugh out of Ellie as she smiled at you with thin eyes.

Suddenly, Ellie took ahold of your hand and nodded in the direction of the next building directly to the left of the walking path.

You didn’t question it, just allowed her to lead you to the front door of this mysterious location, until Ellie was twisting the key in the lock and dragging your body inside along with hers.

Ellie let your hand go so she could close and lock the door behind you before she started sifting the leather jacket off of her shoulders.

“Where are we?”, you spoke, your mouth agape with awe as you stared around at the unknown surroundings.

“My place.”

You were confused as you watched Ellie begin to shed off all of her winter gear near her front door.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Ellie questioned as she untied the laces on her boots and slid them off of her feet.

“Why am I at your place? I thought you were taking me home?”

Ellie glanced up at you, looking doe eyed. “I mean..I can if you want. I just wanted to talk to you and it’s hard with this weather.”

You didn’t nod, merely continued standing in your place with all of your winter clothing still on and your mouth slightly open. You hadn't truly moved since you’d gotten in the door and you weren’t sure if it was because you were cold, nervous, or...more nervous.

“Is this okay?”, Ellie questioned as she felt concern, regretting that she didn’t somehow scream louder above the wind in order to get consent from you about coming to her place.

“I’ll just take you home, I’m so-”

You panicked, watching Ellie anxiously and quickly begin to put her boots back on.

“No, it’s fine!”

This made Ellie pause and straighten her back out so she was back to standing tall.

“I just wasn’t expecting it is all, but this is fine.”

Ellie slightly smiled as she, once again, removed her untied shoe from her foot. “You sure?”

“Positive,” you slightly smiled, and this time it felt genuine.

With her back turned to you, Ellie smiled, having the urge to lift her fist in the air and shake it with enthusiasm, but she fought it off as she walked towards the chair at her desk.

“Help yourself to the couch.” Ellie nodded in the direction of the drearily colored piece of furniture as she watched you discard your gloves, coat, and boots.

Per Ellie’s suggestion, you made yourself at home on the couch, plopping down  with both of your knees bent and your sock clad feet comfortably resting on the same side of your body, creating a lounge position.

“So..”

“So,” Ellie chuckled in a mimicking, yet playful way.

You rolled your eyes jokingly, “So you bring me here and have nothing to say?”

“I didn’t say that.” Ellie shrugged, making you silently laugh.

“What do you want to talk about.”

Ellie shrugged again; you made a note of how she did that a lot.

“Just wanted to make sure you were okay is all,” she said with eyes settled on the floor and fingers picking at the cuticles on her hand.

You swallowed a lump of a saliva that was daring to get caught in your throat before you answered, “I’m fine”.

Ellie scoffed as she brought her eyes back up to you. “I don’t believe you.”

You found yourself following Ellie’s actions as you too shrugged and went  several seconds without saying a uttering a word to fill in the silence.

“I know..” Ellie started, but seemed to quickly retract her statement, hoping that you either didn't hear her or ignored her attempt at questioning you further.

“You know what?”

“Damn it”, Ellie thought.

Ellie took a deep breath as she began. “It just-you just seemed sort of off tonight. Wanted to make sure you were good and that if I did anything to make you feel uncomfortable I'm sorry or i-if Dina or Jesse did any-”

You smiled, watching Ellie full on word vomit, until you interrupted her.

“Ellie.”

She suddenly went quiet, eyes going wide in realization. “Sorry..I just want to make sure you're okay.”

Your lips pursed together as you wagered in your mind how to say what you were feeling or IF you should say exactly how you felt.

“Was it the bar? We can totally go somewhere else next time like tha-”

You started chuckling again; this time, Ellie got the hint and didn’t finish her sentence. Instead, her eyes watched you in observation.

“It wasn’t the bar and your friends didn’t do anything, I promise.”

Ellie felt a moment of relief for a second, until she realized you had never mentioned her. “Was it something I did?”

You began digging your top row of teeth into your bottom lip, still debating on what you wanted to say.

However, Ellie took the silence as your confirmation, “So it was something I did.”

“I mean,” you began, “Sort of.. but probably not in the way that you think.”

Ellie squinted her eyes as she hunched over, resting her elbows on the tops of her knees with her hands clasped together. “Tell me then.”

Her voice was almost pleading, something that made a tinge of guilt hit you. 

“I just thought that tonight...,” you paused in hesitation, but looked up at Ellie’s concentrated face, which instantly made you continue.

She didn’t deserve your lack of communication. She deserved the truth, especially when it was something she probably wasn’t even aware of.

“I thought that tonight was just going to be a me and you thing, but when I saw that your friends were there..”, your voice trailed off and immediately Ellie understood as she moved her face upwards, looking towards her paint chipped ceiling.

“You thought it was just going to be us”

You nodded in confirmation, “Yeah, I thought it would just be the two of us.”

Ellie felt like an asshole as she retraced yours and hers initial conversation when she had invited you out tonight. Not once did she say that her friends would be coming along; which made perfect sense that you had thought that it would just be the two of you hanging out.

“Damn it,” Ellie huffed at herself in frustration. “I’m so sorry,” she spoke in a stressed tone as her hands combed through her pinned back hair. “I totally get why you thought that it would just be me and you.”

You shook your head, “No it’s my fault too, I shouldn't have assumed it was a date.”

Ellies head suddenly quipped up at the mention, “A date?”

“Oh no,” you thought. But Ellie’s eyes were stuck on yours; you knew you couldn’t avoid conversation anymore than you already had.

“Yeah..a date.”

You watched as Ellie’s mouth turned up into an amused grin.

“So you came out tonight thinking that it would just be the two of us...and we were going on a date,” Ellie stated.

With a nod, you answered quietly. “Yeah.”

Suddenly, Ellie was standing up from her chair and walking over to you.

“Can I tell you something.” Ellie was now towering over your seated form, looking directly down at you as you nodded silently.

She sighed for a moment before continuing, “I wanted you to come hang out with me and my friends tonight so I could get the approval from them.”

“Approval?”, you thought with a crease digging deep in the middle of your forehead.

“What do you mean?”, you questioned, watching as Ellie pursed her mouth together, almost looking nervous to continue, but, just like you, she knew she couldn’t avoid this conversation any longer.

“I wanted to make sure they liked you before I properly asked you out.”

Ellie’s words came tumbling out at a faster speed than her usual speech pattern, so fast that you had to take a moment to properly take in exactly what she said.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out?”

Ellie nodded as she watched your body stand up from it’s seated position- the both of you now standing directly in front of the other

“My friends are my family... and I wanted to make sure they got good vibes from  you before all the dating stuff.”

The small smile on your face only showed a fraction of the massive grin that you were fending off from consuming the entirety of your lips as your stomach did flips and your mind began being pumped with chemicals that were making you feel almost euphoric.

“Well?” Your tone was questioning, which made Ellie feel confused.

“Well what?”

“Did they like me?”

Ellies eyes gained a sparkle to them as she looked away from you briefly, trying to contain the smile that was now daring to spread along her mouth. 

“Yeah,” Ellie nodded, “Yeah, they really liked you.”

Your senses were flooded with the various emotions you were feeling in this very moment; relief, pride, joy, anticipation - it was as if you were able to finally breathe after going the entire night having to mask your disappointment that had now turned into every single synonym of the word ‘joy’. 

“Well..I'm free Sunday,” you said, the confidence Ellie enjoyed now pouring back out of you.

“I could come by your place after my route?”, Ellie suggested, a confident look on her face as she dared to move in even closer to you.

You nodded, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of Ellie’s flannel, before you realized how close the both of you were; not to mention you were touching her as if you both had known each other for longer than 2 days.

“So, it’s a date?”

Ellie nodded, looking straight at you. “A date,” she stated in a matter-of-fact tone, ”and just the two of us, I promise.” ,she emphasized.

You chuckled, briefly peering down at your hands out of happiness and nerves all rolled into one; the energy between you both could be compared to teenagers experiencing puppy love for the first time. And whose to say you both weren’t.

“Thanks for the clarification Ellie,” you slightly taunted, but Ellie knew it was justified as she moved her tongue so it could be seen poking through the skin of her cheek.

“I’ll try to be better at that in the future,” Ellie responded with a boyish grin.

___

A/N: May do a part 2 if there is enough interest 👀

[casualfruit]

Whoops, I kept writing until 2am

Uhhhhh anyway here's that Fast Car ficlet I promised @casscainsbiceps

Logan shouldn’t be driving. Sure, he could drink any human and a lot of mutants under the table, but tonight was intense even for him. 

He’d managed to buy a used car a few weeks earlier, and since then he’d mostly taken it to a bar that was far enough outside the city that Wade wasn’t likely to find him there. He’d told himself that he was weaning off the bottle, slowly decreasing his alcohol intake until he could function without it. It was a lie, of course; any fool could see that. Didn’t stop him from trying, though. 

Then she walked in and ruined everything.

He didn’t know her, and she didn’t know him. But her flowing red hair had tricked him, stopped his heart right in his chest and turned his blood to ice.

“Jean?” he’d said. She didn’t respond. That alone should have told him to drop it, but instead, like a complete idiot, he’d reached out and grabbed her arm. 

“Jean?” he repeated. “Jean, is that y—” 

She whipped around, startled and confused and definitely not Jean Grey. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Thought you were someone else.” 

Not-Jean yanked her arm away with a look of disgust. Logan turned back to the counter, finished his beer, then flagged down the bartender and ordered three fingers of whiskey. Everything between the moment the glass touched his lips and the moment he jammed his keys into the ignition was a blur. 

The road had very few street lights; the moon offered little in the way of visibility. Logan was vaguely aware that he was drifting, but didn’t clock that his foot was pressing down on the gas harder than he meant to. That realization came when he went straight through a bend in the road and rammed into a tree at almost a hundred miles per hour. 

He sat there, unmoving, waiting for his brain to catch up and his heart to slow down. With shaking hands he put the car in reverse and tried to back out, but to no avail. He hadn’t even owned the thing for a full month before destroying it. He ripped out the steering wheel and flung it through the shattered windshield. 

God. Fucking. Damnit. 

He should call one of those not-quite-taxi cars—Uberlift, or whatever they were called. He always had trouble remembering the names of things in this universe. But first, he should definitely call a tow truck. 

A dull throbbing pain was building up behind his eyes as he pulled a piece of glass out of his forehead. Maybe he should just get Wade to pick him up instead. 

No. Fuck no. Absolutely not. He might be the Worst Wolverine, but he still had a shred of pride. He’d go on foot once he could walk in a straight line. In the meanwhile, he would just sit in the wreckage of his car and listen to the radio while he sobered up. Assuming it still worked—which, miraculously, it did. 

He must’ve hit the dashboard when he crashed, because the radio wasn’t set to his usual station. Instead of the pounding drums and harsh metal vocals he was used to, he was greeted by something else entirely. 

“You got a fast car,” came a soft voice, “I want a ticket to anywhere.” 

He reached for the radio dial, then paused. The warm bass notes melted like honey over the drums, gently flowing through the vocals and lead guitar. This wasn’t so bad. He sat back and closed his eyes. The singer continued on, telling a story about joining up with someone to escape a life she didn’t want—small, poor, static. He’d heard this story plenty of times before, but something about this version was different. It was captivating in a strange, solemn way.

He was actually starting to enjoy this. 

Then the fourth stanza began.

“You see my old man’s got a problem. He lives with the bottle, that’s the way it is.” 

Logan’s stomach twisted. This was not the kind of story he wanted to hear.

“He says his body’s too old for working. His body’s too young to look like his.”

How many more decades would it take for Logan’s body to look his age? He’d lived two hundred years, but he still looked fifty. Nothing about him had changed. Not his body, not his habits, not his self loathing. 

“My mama went off and left him 

She wanted more from life than he could give

I said, somebody's got to take care of him

So I quit school and that's what I did.”

Images of the woman from the bar flashed in his mind, but this time she had Jean’s face. What would the real Jean think, seeing him like that? He’d always been a drunk, but at least before he’d been a person. The only thing sitting in this car was an empty husk that reeked of booze. 

“You got a fast car. Is it fast enough so we can fly away?” the singer asked. “We gotta make a decision: leave tonight or live and die this way.” 

How many times had his family tried to tell him the same thing—and how many times had he ignored them until they gave up? It wasn’t just the reprimanding he’d hated; it was the genuine concern, the pity, that got under his skin. He hated being pitied more than anything else. At least, that’s what he had thought.

Suddenly the drums kicked up, drowning out his thoughts. 

“So I remember we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights lay out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone…”

God, it was so hopeful it hurt. Logan couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that kind of freedom. Maybe he never had. There was something else in the singer’s voice, something he couldn’t quite identify. It floated in the space between longing and giving up. It made his chest feel tight. 

“I know things will get better

You'll find work and I'll get promoted

We'll move out of the shelter

Buy a bigger house and live in the suburbs.”

“Life ain’t like that, sweetheart,” he sneered. “It’s just one disappointment after the next.” Yet somehow, in spite of himself, he actually did feel some hope for the narrator. Her life didn’t have to go to shit the way his did. Maybe she still had a chance. 

The chorus came back, but something about it felt different, even though it was the exact same as before. Like the narrator’s dreams were being tempered—or tamped down—by reality. His eyes began to burn. 

“You got a fast car

I got a job that pays all our bills

You stay out drinking late at the bar

See more of your friends than you do of your kids.”

Resignation. That was the feeling. Tears began to slip out, one by one, leaving wet tracks down his face. If this girl couldn’t make it, what chance did he have? 

“I'd always hoped for better

Thought maybe together you and me would find it

I got no plans, I ain't going nowhere

So take your fast car and keep on driving.”

It was too much. He couldn’t breathe. Guilt was crushing his rib cage and flattening his lungs. After several excruciating seconds he managed to suck in a breath, only for it to come out as a gasping, heaving sob. Decades of grief poured out from him, burning his throat and eyes and skin. 

That was it. The dam had broken. Sobs turned into wails; wails faded into whimpers.

The chorus returned again, but now the sweet naivete of youth had turned as bitter as whiskey. There were no happy times to look forward to. The narrator had tried to take a different path, but it led her right back to the same dead end. As for Logan, all he’d found was that the bottom of a bottle tasted the same in this universe as it did in his own. 

He leaned forward and rested his head on the dashboard. It took a few deep breaths, but he managed to calm down just enough to hear the final lines of the song.

“You got a fast car. Is it fast enough so you can fly away?”

Please, God, make it stop.

“You gotta make a decision: leave tonight or live and die this way.” 

And just like that, it was over. 

Logan barely had time to process anything before the radio let out a horrendously loud record scratch, reminding all listeners that they were tuning into a station that made its money from advertisements. He skewered the radio with his claws before the DJ could get a word out. 

It had been a long time since anything had torn him apart like that. He was an open wound; bleeding and vulnerable. Wasn’t alcohol supposed to help wounds? 

“Not these ones,” he muttered. “Gotta let ‘em dry out.” 

He was so tired. Tired of drinking. Tired of crying. Tired of hating himself. He just wanted to fall asleep and wake up as a completely different person, unburdened by his past. Barring that, he wanted to go lie down somewhere that wasn’t the wreckage of a junky old car. 

Without any conscious thought, Logan’s hand pulled his phone out of his pocket and began dialing Wade’s number. His mouth, now fully disconnected from his brain, started fumbling through the lyrics of that song. Be someone, be someone, be someone…

He’d have to look it up and listen to it again.

This time he’d hear it sober. 

[furrbbyx]

This is an idea I had because I really really wanted the wednesday show to be part elvira, part body horror, part camp, and utrerly the same vibe as the old movies. Kooky. BUT GROWN

Anyway heres the first part of a fanfiction I never really finished, fearuring a naga. I'm editing this on mobile which is to say im not editing this at alllll.

Approx 2200 words. Do not reproduce or copy.

Warnings...uh....really soft vore. This is maybe sfw.

In a haunted warehouse in upstate New York, on any given weeknight you can buy a ticket and enter into a delightful, odd place where nothing you experience can be trusted. Maybe you heard about it from a coworker, or maybe you were drawn by the eerie blinking lights announcing

Wednesday World.

Wednesday World.

Either way, you will be ushered into a seat on risers that climb high against the brick walls next to a couple sharing a soft drink and a hotdog, or a family of five all trying to get the best view and coddle the baby who is out way past it's bed time. Each act will strain your sense of reality.

A fortune teller picks a victim from the crowd and reveals a terrifying prophecy of failed love in a scratchy high voice. Will the prediction come true?

A magician mesmerizes the crowd with increasingly dangerous tricks. Did he really conjure a demon in a fiery cauldron? How it all seems like a dream when you wake up in your bed the next morning in your normal house and go about your normal day, pretending those feats weren't all that impressive. But maybe you aught to go back and see how to do that that hypnotism trick.

Yes, maybe the curiosities of Wednesday World are only as real people want them to be. Yet that never stopped a show, nor the crowds, nor the money. As for Wednesday Addams, well nothing stops Wednesday.

On this night, a brisk October evening where mist floats over the vast concrete parking lot like waiting ghosts, the last act of the night is drawing quite a spectacle.

A hand painted canvas hanging on the facade of the building reveals the biggest attraction of the night and tonight it reads:

"Sinful Snake-Monster Man! He'll devour your soul!" in bright blood-red letters. Below the lettering is the image of a beautiful brown-skinned shirtless man with glowing yellow eyes and a imposing black-scaled hood flared around his face and shoulders. He's a beautiful and terrifying beast who's smooth torso flows into the thick coiled segments of a white bellied snake. The artist is quite talented as this snake-man looks like he's about to slither out of the canvas and start eating the people lined up to buying tickets.

The crowds press into the building from all entrances. Their warm bodies add to the heat and the heady undercurrent of anticipation, stopping the freezing cold of the winter night from dampening the hype. They mingle and writhe like a sinuous creature themselves until the mood of the room changes suddenly.

Cheers erupt from the stands, clapping, and whistling and laughing humans ready for their entertainment.

Ah, the Ring Master has entered.

"My gracious fans" The RM coos into the microphone. The smile and charisma in his voice cause another round of appreciative whistling.

"Heh, you flatter me! Tonight my lovelies the greatest exibit to date, brought to you by the one and only Wednesday World. The night cirsu of delights and horrors, magic and mystery, danger and daring! We cannot be responsible for the state of your brain after viewing this specatcle. Those with weak stomach have been warned!"

The RM lowers their voice and spins slowly in place addressing everyone in the room.

"Deep in the indus valley lives one of the most deadly creatures known to man! Thought o be a myth, a silly tale to scare the children."

RM wags their finger as a nervous chuckle goes through the crowd

"No myth however! We have found him! Captured by the skilled renowned snake charmer Ares Zarin!"

With a flourish the RM gestures to a tall lanky human man who has come from behind the curtain at one edge of the ring. His tightly curled brown hair is cut close to his head and shines with pommade. The white linen shirt he's wearing is unbuttoned showing his muscled chest. At his hip is a long wicked looking whip. He walks with a confident swagger into the ring smiling and greeting the now wild crowd with waves and bows. He stalks around the ring in his big thick jungle boots as if he's never known a day of fear in his life.

"Come now friend, aren't you a little worried?" The RM goads Ares as they exchange a hand shake and hug greeting.

"Well I've never met a snake I couldn't control" Ares says into the microphone. Quite a few in the crowd can be heard swooning over his easy confidence and good looks.

"I don't know, ladies and gentleman. No beast can love it's captor." The RM sweeps their arm to the curtain again where two brawny pale circus workers and pulling a huge cage into the ring. Inside the barred cage is the snake man. He's been adorned with golden jewelry and a silken wrap about his hips. He looks relaxed but there is an agitation to his shifting coils and flicking tongue.

A hush ripples through the crowd.

"Abomination!"

"Monster!"

Some cannot contain their fear, compulsively screaming in the face of their worst nightmare.

The workers bring the cage to the middle of the ring and await the RM's next words. They are simple. The crowd is already stunned.

"For your delight! and fuel for your nightmares, Wednesday Word presents the Sinful Snake-Monster Man and the Charmer!"

The men work at the locks on the cage and the door falls open before they scramble away and the lights in the room cut off leaving only an ominous spotlight on Ares. Ares looks unaffected, bored even as the sounds of the snake-man uncoiling itself fill the ring.

The susurration of skin is the only sound coming from outside of the spotlight. No one can see what's hidden in the darkness, yet they already know what waits there.

The crowd seems to cringe as one, as the tail of the beast whips out from the darkness. Ares leaps to the side, rolling away from the first strike then another.

A loud hiss of anger blooms in the darkness. Ares uncoils the whip from his waist and stalks towards the the edge of the light.

"Come now, my sweet. Don't be sore. We've let you out of that cage, show yourself to the crowd" He says, taunting.

The hiss grows louder. Ares jumps back. The beast follows him into the light fangs bared and its patterned hood flared wide and quivering. Ares laughs.

"You see, he's vain if nothing else!" Ares shouts to the crowd. They whistle and cheer in response! Some stomping their feet in agreement.

The snake-man curls and twists his body into the ring. He so big that his long tail seems to encircle the entire space, leaving no room for escape. Ares holds the whip loosely, watching, not ready to strike at the snake-man but he reaches into his shirt with the other hand and draws out a peculiar object. A smallish thing that looks like a long-necked little gourd with a doubled fife stuck into the bottom of it. There's a net of cowrie shells around the bulbus middle and the neck is painted with arcane symbols of protection. Ares lifts it to his lips and begins to play a reedy rhythmic tune charging the ambiance with an eerie feeling.

The song calls the beast closer. It sways to the music, coiling and slithering with unnerving grace towards Ares. And it seems the human crowd is just as hypnotized by the sweet soothing noise.

Outside of the glare of the spotlight  all of this fanfare is being closely monitored by the RM and the grunts, yes, but also by the proprietor of this unholy circus: Wednesday Addams. Below the circus ring, in her tightly locked office sits the genius woman and mastermind of this operation. Wednesday watches the act, the RM, and the crowd as they are captured by her surveillance system. In fact she watches the entire building, the grounds the receiving garage and the corridor leading to her office on multiple monitors spread across on wall of the room. 

Wednesday has grown into a bewitching, maniupulative woman, Her gothic style is a symphony of darkness and allure, embodied in her striking hair and makeup choices. Long ebony locks cascade down her back in thick waves, contrasting against her porcelain skin. Her eyes are framed by dramatic, winged eyeliner, accentuating their piercing intensity, while deep, burgundy lipstick adds a touch of mystery to her full lips.

As for her attire, she embraces her gothic sensibilities with a bold and daring ensemble. A mesh top, intricately patterned with occult symbols, hugs her curves snugly, revealing hints of skin beneath its web-like design. Paired with a flowing black skirt that sways with each confident step, she exudes an air of elegance and defiance.Her gothic style is a symphony of darkness and allure, embodied in her striking hair and makeup choices. Long ebony locks cascade down her back in thick waves, contrasting against her porcelain skin. Her eyes are framed by dramatic, winged eyeliner, accentuating their piercing intensity, while deep, burgundy lipstick adds a touch of mystery to her full lips.

As for her attire, she embraces her gothic sensibilities with a bold and daring ensemble. A mesh top, intricately patterned with occult symbols, hugs her curves snugly, revealing hints of skin beneath its web-like design. Paired with a flowing black skirt that sways with each confident step, she exudes an air of elegance and defiance.

She's anticipating the climax of the act, having watched the rehearsals between her current lover Kaliya and the cocky Ares. She licks her lips. The unnatural scene in front of her is quite arousing. To the crowd it looks as if Kaliya is utterly under Ares's spell, they feel safe now that the snake-man is under control. But Wednesday knows Kaliya is stalking the man. No mortal could match Kaliya in speed or strength, nor in the bedroom Wednesday muses. For a few moments she's hyper focused on the thick smooth-scaled muscle of his tail especially where the sharp human hip bones meld into his monstrous snake body. 

He sways in front of her on camera while she toys with a nipple, sore from the fang marks he'd giver her just this afternoon. The sheer mesh of her top gives her easy access to her puckering nipples.

Ares plays like Kaliya is occupied with the sound of the fife, sauntering closer to the swaying snake-man. Kaliya plays like a docile beast for the crowds, until it's too late that is. The sudden speed with which the man's tail grabs Ares distorts the air with a noise so ominous it causes someone in the crowd to scream in its wake.

"Look out!"

The fife flies from Ares's grasp as he's stunned by the hit. The vicious tail lifts Ares by his leg dangling him above the ground like a bunch of grapes. Ares recovers quickly enough to grab at a hidden dagger and lunges for the appendage wrapped around his leg.Kaliya's hiss fills the room setting off the crowd like never before. Screams erupt as the crowd watches Ares become wrapped in writhing snakeflesh up to his stomach, still held high and being dragged closer to doom. 

"abomination!"

"god someone stop it! he'll be eaten!"

"Kill the beast!"

Kaliya seems to transform before their eyes, his body vibrating and expanding the distinctive reptilian hood of his species making him look even larger than before. His jaw grows wide, unhinges with wet pops until a terrifying maw opens around fangs as long as a tiger's, glittering with saliva. With shocking quickness the constricting coils around Areas release him suddenly and he drops down Kaliya's throat before the man has a chance to scream. Kaliya makes a single gulp around the fat bulge in a grotesque feeding display of Ares getting devoured alive.

Finally the spell of spectacle is broken as the people panic and start stampeding out of the circus. Suddenly more of the burly, pale workers appear among them guiding the flow, trying to stop the worst of the trampling and pandemonium. The ring is filled with 5 men and the ring master, making a show of conquering the man-eating monster and trying to save Ares. Yet they need not have strained their acting skills in such a way. The illusion had done much better than anticipated. Not a single patron stayed long enough to see Kaliya pushed into the shadows backstage.

[bookaddict05]

Mystery man - pt 2

"I... cant... breath..." I say coming to a holt in the middle of the gym after running 20 laps.

Collapsing to the floor Barnes chuckles to himself. "It wasn't that hard" he says continuing to chuckle.

"Yeah thats easy enough for you to say you have the super soldier serum running through your veins" I retorted back.

"..."

Silence hums through the air between the both of us.

"Well we are done for the day, you can go and do whatever u have planned to do" he walks away from me leaving me sitting in the middle of this gigantic room all alone. Its actually quite peaceful.

~2 hours later~

As im getting out of the shower i hear something get slid under my door. I walk over to see an envelope with my name on. The letter was sealed shut with a wax stamp, so fancy. I throw on a jumper and joggers and run through the bathroon knocking on tessa's ajoining door.

"COME IN" I hear them shout. Walking in tessa is holding the same letter as i am. Shrugging our shoulders we both open the letters simultaneously, like we are sharing the same brain cell.

"Omg tony stark has invited us to a party tonight!" I exclaim in excitment.

"Thats so fricken cool" tessa shouts.

"I have nothing to wear" i pace back through to my room with tessa right on my heals. "I didnt think to pack any formal clothing, i never thought in my wildest dreams id be invited to one of these"

"Hey dont panic we have time it says it doesnt start till 8 anyways, its 4 now we can quickly pop out and find something and it doesnt matter if we are late to the party we will arrive fashionably late" says tessa.

"Omg tessa you are a star i dont know what i would have done without u, probably have a melt down then decide not to go and just read for the night instead" i say while chuckling.

"Yeah yeah im amazing i know, now lets get going"

~1 hour later~

We arrive back with our outfits for the night

I picked up a beautiful floor length red dress that flows so effortlessly while i walked. With a heart-shaped neckline my neck looked bare so i also picked up a necklace my mother had given to me before she died, a small golden love heart which completed the outfit in every way.

Tessa on the other hand picked out a black suit to match their goth lifestyle.

We took our time doing our make up and making ourselfs look stunning as ever.

9pm rolled around and we are already an hour late. A rush of anxiety coursed through me as we walked towards the door of the party. Taking deep breaths in to calm down. Music playing so loudly. We open the doors and the music perfectly timed it self with us playing the chorus of 'jealous' by nick jonas.

It was like something just out of a movie, just so dramatic. Walking through the doors I could feel eyes burning on us I turned to look at Tessa beside me to see that they had disappeared and saw them talking to 2 other agents. I continue to walk through the party taking in all the planning that must have went into this in such short time.

I walk over to the bar where I see Natasha serving Bruce. And sit down. "You look stunning y/n" Natasha says automatically.

"Thanks Nat, you look stunning as well" I stay with them for a while, Nat handing me a drink over, a vodka and coke. While chatting I felt as if there was a set of eyes on me from behind.

I turn around to see the metal man himself standing with Steve and Sam in a conversation, he's standing facing me eyes piercing straight into mine, I smile at him and he smiles back. Strange interaction with the metal man. I turn back around feeling my heart racing, why is he having this affect on me? no one has ever made me feel like this, not since the accident that ended my mothers life.

I got lost in a trance of thinking of my past but I was brought out of it after hearing a deep toned voice come and approach me, I turn to see a dark haired man. Muscles bulging through his black dress shirt, arm sleeves rolled up exposing his tanned muscular arms. He looks at me with deep chocolate brown eyes.

"Hey" the dark haired man said with a smile

I smile back and say hey back

He introduced himself as Eddie

He is perfect in everyway, too perfect.

"Your Y/N right ?" he asked

"Yeah, how did you know that?"

"I'm a new recruit and I've been placed into your group for practice missions"

"Wait? Edmundo?"

"Yeah"

"great to meet you, I've heard brilliant things from the S.H.I.E.L.D Academy, I hope you can live up to these expectations. If you can excuse me I need to head to the toilet and find my friend, I hope you have a great rest of your night" I say while smiling.

I excuse myself from the bar and head towards the toilets. I look at myself in the mirror, not looking physically flustered but I could feel it internally. I shove the feelings back down to where they belong and pull myself together.

I plastered a big smile across my face and went back out amongst the crowd. I walk across the room and grab Tessa. "WE ARE GOING TO DANCE" I shout over the music. I drag them to the dance floor and we cause chaos. Jumping and singing to the top of our lungs like no one was watching.

That's when we heard the initial sound, glass smashing and everything fell silent. The windows to the function room that overlooked the whole of New York fell into the room an object landing in the middle of the room. A bomb.

"RUN OR GET DOWN" I scream, everyone ran to cover but when the bomb exploded I wasn't far enough, the force from the explosion sent me flying into the wall. My head colliding with the wall first causing me to black out.

[nowandajenn]

Blue Christmas- chapter 3

Series warnings: angst (like a lot), mentions of infidelity, language, family drama, pregnancy, sexual situations.

Time stands still for me. I’m not sure how long I actually stand there in the middle of the kitchen with Chris on his knees in front of me, desperately clinging to me and apologizing with tears running down his cheeks. It’s almost like my brain temporarily shuts down to try and process what happened before coming back online. 

When I finally gather myself, I back away from Chris, breaking his hold on me. There are tears burning in my eyes and I can feel the pizza and wine in my stomach trying to work it’s way right back up my esophagus. Chris takes a step towards me and I instantly put a trembling hand up to stop him. 

“No.”

“Honey, please.....” he tries as he takes a step closer towards me. 

“NO. Don’t.....don’t fucking come near me right now. I can’t......I can’t......” I raise my head and I look at him standing in front of me, and I feel like I’m looking at a complete stranger. My Chris would never do this to me. My Chris was my best friend and my lover and he would NEVER break my heart like this. 

Hot tears flow from my eyes unbidden, and I stifle a sob with the back of my hand. 

There are so many questions that are flying through my head, and so many things I want to say, and all I can do is stand there sobbing, holding onto the counter top for support. 

“Ray, please, baby.....” Chris says, his voice rough and thick with emotion. 

Before I even know what I’ve done, Chris is stumbling back, gasping in surprise and shock, my hand print blooming bright red against the fair skin of his cheek. 

“Don’t you fucking DARE! Do you hear me? Don’t you DARE fucking call me that right now. How could you do this? Can you tell me that? Huh?” 

There’s so much anger and sadness bubbling up out of me that I can barely breathe, not to mention the massive ache in the middle of my chest that makes me wonder if I’m having a heart attack. 

I turn around and wipe my face and try and get my breathing under control. 

It’s because you haven’t gotten pregnant.

He wants a family and you’re obviously not going to give him a baby.

He found someone younger and sexier. Someone with a better body than yours. 

He’s sick of you. Six years was the limit. It was good while it lasted, I guess.

You never really stood a chance anyway. Who were you kidding? There are millions of women that he could have his pick from, and you thought that he was just going to stick with YOU for the rest of his life. Silly rabbit. 

I look out the kitchen window at the snow coming down and blowing across our backyard, and trying to figure out the likelihood of me wrapping my car around a tree if I try and drive in this. At this point, if it’s between that or staying in the same house as my husband who just told me he cheated on me, I’m willing to take my chances with the snow. 

“You need to get away from me. Right now. I don’t want to look at your face.” I tell him, my back still turned to him. 

“Kelly....PLEASE...”

I turn around and it feels like all the energy and fight and will to live just leaves my body in a rush. 

“Chris, if you love me, and you’re truly sorry, get the fuck away from me. I’m saying this for your own personal well being. If I have to be in the same vicinity as you for another minute, one of us isn’t going to make it out alive.”

When Chris finally gets the message that I’m not going to talk OR listen to anything he has to say right now, he finally backs off and leaves the room, looking about as miserable as I feel. 

Everything I thought I knew about my life and my marriage and my husband all came crashing down tonight, and I don’t know where to even begin trying to make sense of it all. All I do know for sure is that I have to get out of here. The one place in the world where I feel absolutely safe and secure and comfortable suddenly feels like a jail cell where the walls are slowly closing in on me. 

Chris is in our bedroom when he hears my car start, and his heart jumps into his throat. With Dodger on his heels, and completely ignoring the need for a coat or boots, he runs out the front door just in time to watch me pull out of the garage and into the street without a single look back. 

The great thing about driving in a snow storm is that there aren’t many other people out on the roads, besides plows and salt trucks. The bad thing is having to put everything else out of my head except keeping laser focus on the road in front of me. Pushing the button on the steering wheel, I call my twin brother Connor.

I almost hesitate, thinking that I shouldn’t be calling so late, and I’m shocked to look at the clock on the dashboard to see that it’s only a little bit after 9pm. I could have sworn that it was so much later than that.

“Hey, I was just thinking about calling you.” he says, bypassing a greeting. 

I take a deep breath, trying to hold in the tears that are threatening to start again. 

“Hey, listen......I need a place to crash for a while.” I tell him. 

He hears a small waver in my voice and it’s like our weird twin bond immediately activates. 

“Are you okay?” 

I choke out a strangled laugh. 

“Not even a little bit. I’m in the car right now. I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to get to your place.”

“You’re not seriously driving in this, are you?” 

“Yeah. Listen.....I’ll tell you everything when I get there. I just....I couldn’t stay at the house.” I say. 

“Okay. Okay. You know you can stay here as long as you need. Just please, for the love of everything holy, be careful. Get off the phone with me and pay attention to the road. Drive slow.” Connor tells me. 

The drive that normally only takes about 30 minutes takes just over an hour, and by the time I pull in the driveway of Connor’s house, my knuckles are killing me from the death grip that I’ve had on the steering wheel the whole time. 

I see the porch light come on and Connor opens the door, stepping out onto the porch. I grab my small duffel bag from the back of the car and slowly make my way up to the front door. 

“Is Olivia asleep?” I ask. 

“Yeah, she’s down for the count. She’s been playing in the snow practically all day, so she was nice and worn out.” he tells me. 

The thought of my five year old niece being awake and seeing me a mess is the last thing I want. 

Connor leads me into the house and I set my coat and bag down before following him into the kitchen. 

“Is this going to be a beer conversation or a whiskey conversation?” he asks, one hand on the handle of the fridge and one hand on one of the upper cabinets. 

“Chris cheated on me.” 

He whips his head towards me so fast that I hear the bones in his neck crack. 

“Whiskey it is.” he mutters, grabbing the bottle and two glasses. 

He sits down across from me and pours me a glass. 

“Wait. You have to start from the beginning here. What the hell happened?” 

“I came home from the studio and I was sitting in front of the TV with Dodger eating dinner, and he came home and told me that he slept with someone.”

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Chris loves you. Like, he loves you so much that it’s sickening. Why the hell would he.....” Connor trails off, completely at a loss. 

“I don’t understand this.” he mutters. 

My chest feels like it’s being squeezed from the inside out and I’m afraid that I’ll never be able to stop crying. The image of Chris having sex with some nameless, faceless woman keeps playing in my mind, and I can’t get it to stop. 

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“I don’t understand this. Things were fine. We’re happy........were happy. Everything was fine. Everything was-we were good. I mean, how long has this been going on? Was this the first time? I mean-Jesus. What else is he keeping from me?” I’m rambling at a million miles and hour, hiccuping between the tears, and I’m a mess. 

A thought occurs to me and I look up at my brother. 

“This is my fault.” I whisper.

Connor’s heart breaks and he’s never wanted to punch his brother in law in the face more than he does now. 

“Listen to me right now. This is not your fault. You did nothing wrong. This is completely and totally on him.” 

“But what if......what if he did this because I can’t get pregnant? What if he’s sick of trying with me? What if he doesn’t want to be with a woman who can’t give him kids? It has to be me.” 

“Can I offer you a silver lining?” Connor asks as he pours us another drink.

“How can there possibly be a silver lining to ANY of this? Tell me.” I demand.

“I know this is going to sound shitty, and I really don’t mean it that way, but.....at least you’re not pregnant and having to go through this right now.” 

My heart clenches in my chest at the thought. 

“Cheers to that.”

By the time we hit the bottom of the bottle, it’s almost 3am and I’m well past drunk and basically a complete mess. Connor manages to get me a pillow and a blanket and watches as I pass out on the couch almost instantly.

My first thought when I open my eyes the next morning is that I feel like I’m dying. My head is throbbing, my mouth tastes like a sewer, and the sun is shining brightly into the living room. I manage to sit up on the couch, my stomach rolling and twisting. I can’t seem to cry anymore, but big dry sobs erupt from my chest as I hang my head. Everything is completely upside down and I have no idea how to get control of any of it. Any time I’ve ever been this upset and this lost, Chris has been the one to bring me back to myself and put me back together.

“Aunt Kelly!”

I internally cringe at my niece’s ear splitting enthusiasm so early in the morning, but I wipe my eyes and try and pretend that I hadn’t just been on the verge of losing my shit again only moments before. I hold my arms out for her and she climbs up on the couch with me. 

I pull her into my lap and snuggle her close, almost on the verge of tears again. 

“I missed you!” Olivia tells me. 

I stroke her light brown curls and smile. 

“I just saw you last week, bug.” I remind her. 

“That was too long ago!” she says. 

“Is Uncle Chris here? Did he come with you?” she asks, looking around for him. 

I shake my head. 

Not this time, kiddo. I just wanted to come and visit with you and your dad for a while. I’m feeling kind of sad and I wanted to be around my favorite people.” I explain. 

She seems to accept that and grabs the remote to turn the TV on. 

“Olivia, come and eat your breakfast. Let’s let Aunt K wake up a little bit. She’s not feeling too great right now.” Connor says. 

He gets her set up at the kitchen table with a plate of pancakes and comes to sit down next to me. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks. 

“Like I want to die.” I tell him honestly. 

“Well, drinking your way to the bottom of a bottle of Jack will do that to you.” 

I lean forward on the couch and press the heels of my palms into my eyes. I have no idea what to do next. I don’t even know what to do in the next 5 minutes. Everything is completely up in the air and it’s terrifying. 

“I don’t know what to do.” I say softly. 

“Well, considering the shit ton of snow that fell last night, and the fact that you’re in no condition to be in public, let alone work, I would suggest calling Allie and telling her not to bother coming in today. Or tomorrow. I don’t think you’d be doing much business right now anyway, to be honest.” Connor tells me.

“Okay.” I agree. 

He slips his arm over my shoulders and pulls me in close to him. 

“Listen, I can’t imagine what’s going on in your head right now, but I want you to know that I’m here for you. You can stay here as long as you need to. If you need to cry or vent, I’m here. If you want me to kill Chris, I’m your guy. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

When I grab my phone, I see that I have 63 missed calls from Chris and 102 text messages. I shake my head, not even ready to deal with any of that, and call Allie to let her know to stay home today and tomorrow. She asks if I’m okay because I sound like I’ve been crying, and I assure her that I’m just fine. 

Using the last of my willpower for the day, I delete all of the messages, clear my call history, and shut off my phone.

[corruptradiance]

Sharing a Moment;

The air outside is heavy. Warm, wet, yet stirring in the wind to a silent song. I kick up a large rock and prop open the back door. Beyond one small sliver, a world of infinite lights and potential. I am calm.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

I glance up and meet Dahlia’s eyes, rich patterns of brown and gold dancing back at me. In a moment, one single moment—- a lifetime of joy explodes within my body. Everything about her makes me so happy. The sun has already fallen behind the horizon, and yet it shines in her silhouette, outlined by an angel, something darker, something with a halo like a black light, eyes windowing a soul winnowing through tall grass widowing the chaff, as if to invite a sense of curiosity, prey lacking eyes to see anything beyond the veil. Her face alone is enough to get me drunk.

I glance away. “Evening’s nice.”

Dahlia gives a knowing chuckle, and fishes a small brown package from her jacket pocket. She removes two cigarettes, and hands one my way. “Lighter?”

I toss her my Zippo, and delight in the sound of its ignition. The smell hits me with a mix of nostalgia and disgust. I take a deep breath, and I smell her. She flows through my body and out again, bliss. “Come here.”

We plant our hands upon the other’s face, and with a soft touch she lights my cigarette with hers. I take a conservative drag off the stick and sit on it. Menthol coats my tongue and the roof of my mouth, a few puffs deep and I feel the nicotine rush through my brain. The taste is…

“Ugh. Like smoking dirt.”

Dahlia takes a few more puffs as her expression turns sour. “Hey, why do you smoke, anyway?”

I’m not sure how to react. “Why? Why not.”

“Darling, every time you smoke, you recoil and sputter about the taste. Sure, the nicotine is nice, but that’s why we have vapes. Why are you smoking this cigarette with me?”

I take a minute to stare at the little thing. A trail of smoke meanders into thin air; Tracing it down and up, I think. “Because it’s in front of me.” I fill my lungs with air. “I mean, it’s nice, isn’t it? It’s a treat. Tonight is special.”

Dahlia laughs. “Darling, all your nights are special.”

[pixies-and-poets]

Of Verses and Curses: Chapter Ten

Darkness flows from you We can’t keep the storm from settling in We can’t rescue you Hopeless, we can’t do anything to help

Author’s notes: I’ve had this chapter written out almost entirely in my head for a while, dialogue and all, and sat down and typed out the whole thing tonight in a fit of... trying to distract myself from my earlier bad brain moment today. This silly bunny story really helps me process a lot of things, seriously. So thank you for reading it, if you have. It means a lot to me.

Various people, via private messages and asks, have guessed at things that are going to happen in this chapter, or soon... so let’s get going before people guess the entire rest of the story! ;)

Warnings: Slightly more graphic description of injury/blood.

Thanks: @minnesotamedic186 and @monsterbride99​ for the idea that Phantom’s temperature is affected by his emotions! Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten - In the Thick of the Woods

In the depths of the forest, a patch of shadow flitted in the air, darker still than its surroundings. It fluttered and circled around the prone and injured body of a tall creature, trapped under a fallen tree. It was a tiny raincloud.

Could a cloud feel panic, worry, concern… love? Some of the residents of Palette Prime would have already told you yes, and anyone watching the scene would surely have been convinced as well.

But it was dark, and there was no one around to see. No one around to rescue the cloud’s unconscious companion. And what could a cloud do, on its own?

—

Sweetlopek was awakened by a crack of thunder. He opened his eyes, although he might as well not have; it was still pitch black in his bedroom, no light making it in through the window. He rolled over, listening to the rain pounding his wooden roof.

The lumberjack tried to get back to sleep, but just as soon as he was drifting off, a flash of lightning rent the sky outside his window, and a clap of thunder so loud it shook the house followed almost instantly. He clenched his jaw, turned his bedside lantern on, and looked at the clock. It was six A.M., soon to be sunrise. He might as well get up…

In the dim light of the lantern, he saw Chipper’s shivering tail sticking out from under the bed as the beaver cowered from the storm. He thought of Dryad… she was spending the night in her nest, and he hoped she’d be alright. Where had this storm come from, anyway? There had been no hints of rain the evening before. Had he known it was coming, he would have invited her to stay… well, he needn’t be silly; she had weathered far worse. Still, he hadn’t seen rain this hard, or this sudden, since that night Woodrow had…

“Oh stars, Woody,” he said to himself, suddenly afraid. He got up, threw on his shirt and overalls and boots, and stepped outside into the rain. He didn’t know where to start looking, but-

Although he had already gotten quite wet in those few seconds, the storm suddenly... stopped. He looked up and noticed the raincloud, still dripping out a few remnants, was quite localized over his own house: he could see beyond it, to the lightening sky of the coming dawn not far away. It was only pitch black in the shadow of the storm where he stood.

And off of that cloud broke a tiny piece, which zoomed down to him, circled him frantically, and pressed itself against his cheek.

“Oh- Jinx,” he said, his apprehension growing even stronger. “Yer here- without him-” He looked up and saw the bigger cloud starting to drift away, across the fields- in the direction of Woodrow’s house.

“Wow,” he breathed, “you brought the whole big behemoth, eh? This must be serious…” The cloud paused in its frantic flutter, then after a moment, rose up and down rapidly - a nod.

Sweetlopek directed a groan towards himself - who knew how long Jinx had been trying to wake him up? Curse what a deep sleeper he was - but there was no more time to lose. He looked at the cloud, his face drawn tight with worry, his heart pounding fast in his chest, and said “Take me to him.”

—

The lumberjack cut a quick pace through the woods, following the speedy cloud; but still they had been going for quite a while, into the depths, and the dawn was properly breaking. Finally, he saw in the distance the fractured base of a tree, and could tell it had been freshly splintered. More than that, he had an intuition, and rushed ahead.

Sure enough, lying near another (older) stump, was a familiar white-furred body, his arms splayed out and his coat rumpled around him. His chest was trapped under a massive tree-trunk, his face sideways in the dirt, and by the dim morning light, the woodsman could see that the top of his head was-

“Oh STARS,” he said again, for the second time that morning. A puddle of blood had seeped down into the dirt from the top of the warden’s head, trickling down over his face and limp ears, and pooling around his cheek. It had mostly dried, but not totally; it still carried a bright-red sheen. Woodrow’s eyes were closed, his glasses knocked a few feet away.

Sweetlopek moved immediately to lift off the tree, summoning all his strength; with a burst of adrenaline and a great heave, he moved it and thrust its weight off of his best friend. He then kneeled down next to the warden, his hands trembling. Woodrow had survived an entire cruise ship falling on him, surely he had to be alright…

Jinx seemed to sense that Sweetlopek was terrified to try and touch his friend - both afraid of making his injury worse, and afraid of what he might find out, afraid of finding his body cold. So she hovered over her fallen companion and dripped a few large raindrops onto his cheek, like tears. There was silence for a moment, and then…

“Nngh…” a tiny groan emerged from the warden, who twitched slightly, then flinched at the pain that throbbed through him.

“Woody!” cried the lumberjack in relief. Ever so gently, he slid one of his large paws under his friend’s chest, with the other on his back for support, and slowly lifted him up into a sitting position.

“Sweets,” said the poet, his eyes barely open in the early morning light. “I… I wrote…” For as weak as his voice was, there was still a detectable note of shame in it.

“I coulda guessed that,” said the woodsman, cleaning off the warden’s glasses with his flannel. “But it’s alright, don’cha worry ‘bout it. I’m here now. Yer gonna be alright.” He put his friend’s spectacles back on, and then once more slowly and carefully, he lifted the warden, cradling him to his chest in a bridal carry. “Sun’s up… Dryad should be in her nursery now. I’m gonna take you to her, she’ll know what to do.”

“Mmm,” the warden murmured. “Where’s….” he trailed off.

“Jinx? Jinx is here,” he said, as he set off walking with the cloud in tow behind the two of them.

“...No,” said the poet after a moment. “I… Tom…”

The lumberjack frowned. “Oh, I dunno,” he said bitterly. “Not takin’ care of you, that’s for sure-” but he caught himself, bit his lip, then took a deep breath. Animosity was not what Woodrow needed right then.

“But I heard him,” said the warden weakly, leaning his face into his best friend’s chest as he rose and fell with the steady, careful plod of his footsteps. “I heard him… singing…”

“Listen, Woody,” said Sweetopek, kindly yet firm, “yer a little delusional right now. He can’t sing, remember? Just close yer eyes and rest, will ya?”

“No, no. It hurts. Everything hurts... please... keep talking...”

Sweetlopek felt his throat tighten, almost moved to tears at the pain in his friend’s voice. “Woodrow… are you alright? Like, emotionally?”

The other didn’t answer, but shuffled a bit, showing he was still awake. He was leaving a small patch of blood, dark enough to be visible against his friend’s red clothing.

“What didja write out there? Not a… break-up poem, I hope. Not a poem of sorrow?”

“Break-up poem?” the warden repeated softly. “Who would I be breaking up with?”

“Er- dagnabbit, I’m sorry, I thought you two had… you an’ Phantom- I’m, I’m sorry, never mind.” He had best not tell him that multiple people had seen the two sleeping curled in each other’s arms in the crook of the moon, and the whole town knew about that...

“Oh, Sweets,” said Woodrow, his voice coming stronger now, “It’s not like that.” He clutched at his friend’s shirt, his voice cracking with misery. “It can’t be like that, it can NEVER be like that-”

“Shush!” said the other, “Calm down, now! …But why is that? He ain’t treatin’ ya bad, is he?”

“No, no! You mustn’t think that. He’s wonderful. He’s…. he’s wonderful…” His aching brain struggled to find another word, but this was the only one he could procure. And it was enough. It was Tom. Wonderful.

“...Are you in love, Woodrow?”

Silence.

“Yer not answerin’, so that’s answer enough. So... what’s wrong?”

“I cannot saddle him with me,” said the poet, after a moment. “Look what I have done to myself…” He moved one of his paws to touch the red trail on the side of his head. “I am stained with my own blood. And so shall I do this, to anyone with whom I am bound.”

The lumberjack was silent for a moment, and there was no noise except for chirping of birds and the crunching of his boots upon the leaf-covered ground. Finally, after considering his phrasing carefully, he said: “Woodrow. Do ya really think there’s no one out there who’d find it worth the danger, an’ the worry, of bein’ close to you? …Think real hard now.”

The warden gave a little sob, and clutched at his friend’s shirt again. “But, you’re different, Sweets. We’ve been friends since we were young, and- I feel bad enough that you care as much as you do. But I suppose… I suppose I am just used to it.”

“Well, what about Dryad? She cares too, y’know. Yer luck has done a number on her forest, more’n once- but she doesn’t blame ya for it.”

Woodrow was silent for a moment, then swallowed hard, trying to think of what to say. He opened his mouth to speak, and then-

Sweetlopek stopped dead, as both he and Woodrow - and Jinx - stared before them. About twenty feet away, between the trees and staring back at them in shock… was Phantom.

“Tristan?” came his voice, and suddenly he was beside them in a flash, zooming so fast it was almost as if he had teleported. He reached out to put a paw on the warden’s head, but, stopping in horror at the blood and not wanting to disturb a wound, moved it to Woodrow’s chest instead. With a weak smile, the other rose up his own hands to put them on top of Phantom’s, holding it to him tightly. “Tom…” he croaked, in blissful surprise.

“Mon chéri, mon pauvre chéri… What happened?!”

Sweetlopek grimaced, still under the impression that the Phantom didn’t know about Woodrow’s affliction. He looked down at the poet, and said, “Er, Woody couldn’t sleep, so he came out here for a walk in the early mornin’. What with the windstorm last night, there was an accident. Luckily-” he shrugged his head in the direction of the cloud, “Jinx found me an’ led me to him, so he’ll be alright. I’m takin’ him to Dryad’s nursery an’ she can get him patched up.”

Phantom was staring at Woodrow, his eyes wide in despair. “My poor dear,” he said. He looked back up at Sweetlopek. “May I carry him?”

“Well, we’re almost there. Best not to disturb him too much, y’know?”

“Ah… certainly. That is wise. But let us make haste then.”

The three Rabbids and the cloud headed off quickly on the final leg of their journey. As they walked (and floated, and were carried… Sweetlopek was really the only one walking), the lumberjack asked, “So, uh, Phantom- what were YOU doin’ out here?”

“Oh- I could not sleep either, and… truth be told, I have taken to haunting these woods sometimes, at night. Ghost instincts, you know-”

Woodrow smiled woozily. “I did hear you,” he said. “I heard you singing, in my injured sleep-”

Phantom looked startled, and he said, cautiously, “Well… how did I sound?”

“Beautiful…”

“Then, I am sorry, my dear… but that was merely a dream.”

—-

Dryad bent over one of the hanging seedbeds in her nursery, checking on the saplings. The hammocks must have been thrown about violently in last night’s winds, but the saplings had been well-planted under her careful hand, and luckily seemed firmly rooted and unharmed.

Suddenly, she heard heavy footfalls some distance behind her. She would recognize those footsteps anywhere, and she turned with a merry smile.

“Good morning, SweetieAAAAAAAH!” her greeting turned into a shriek as she saw four visitors (inclusive of a cloud), with Woodrow’s limp body and bloodied form being carried by his friend.

“Oh, is he-” she began in terror, floating towards them, and then sighed with relief as the warden looked up towards her. “Hello,” he said, with a weak smile. “My apologies, Dryad, but would you please try not to yell like that? My head feels agonizing-”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Yeah, I- I can see that.” She looked her partner in the eyes, and said, “Unlucky accident?”

“Yep,” said the woodsman. “Out… walking by himself in the middle of the night.”

Dryad nodded, understanding the code. Now the sudden, violent windstorm made sense.

“Can you fix him up?” Sweetlopek asked. “You’re so much better’n the doctor in town, frankly.”

“I’ll do my best,” she said. “Let’s get him into one of the hammocks. I have an empty one with no soil in it right now.”

The lumberjack carried his friend to the hanging bed Dryad indicated. It was indeed empty, made of soft and supple branches woven together. He began to lay Woodrow in it, but the forest spirit put out her hand.

“Not yet,” she said. “I’m going to want something to support his head and make sure it stays clean. Some cloth I could bundle will do-” She looked at Phantom, and suddenly made a beckoning motion with her paw. “Alright, hand it over.”

He looked at her in confusion, pointing to himself, and then suddenly it clicked. Swiftly and without question, he reached around his neck, taking off his cravat and handing it to her. She folded and bunched it up artfully, and Sweetlopek finally laid Woodrow down, his head resting on it as a pillow. In spite of his injuries, the warden stole a glance up at Phantom’s more exposed neck and chest, and turned his head away quickly, feeling warm.

“Hmm - his head is still bleeding a bit,” Dryad said. “We’ll use some better bandages soon, but for now, is there anything else we can use to staunch the-”

Before she could even finish her sentence, Phantom had withdrawn something from his pocket, quick as a flash. It was a monogrammed handkerchief.

“Oh, is that- clean?” Dryad asked. “No offense, but you don’t blow your nose into it or anything-”

“It’s for show,” he said. “It’s pristine and spotless, I promise you. Will it work?”

She took the silk cloth and wrapped it around the warden’s wound, trying it tightly, pressing his ears down behind his head. “Perfect,” she said. The poet closed his eyes.

“Alright,” she said, thinking quickly. “I can make a poultice from herbs, but I’ll need to go gather them. And Sweetie - can you go fetch some clean water, and some bandages from your house, and your mortar and pestle?” She turned to Phantom. “It’s really lucky you’re here too,” she said. “You can stay and watch him. Hopefully we won’t be gone too long-” she started to turn away, but then turned back. “Question - sorry if this is insensitive, but- can you make yourself cold? Being a ghost, and all…”

He blinked at her. “I can be…”

“Well, if you can do it on purpose… using something ice-cold can reduce any swelling, so- if you could keep your paw on his head. If that’s alright?” He nodded.

“Alright then,” she said, patting Sweetlopek on the shoulder, “Let’s head out.” The two hurried off into the woods together, although their paths would soon diverge.

Woodrow and Phantom were left alone. The singer sighed and took a deep breath, and as promised, put the palm of his large hand on the poet’s head. Woodrow opened his eyes again, in surprise.

“You really are cold,” he said, weakly. “You have always been so warm before… I didn’t know you could do this.”

Phantom gave a wan smile. “I am barely trying, to be honest. When I am devastated, or afraid, I cannot help being cold. Although I do not often feel those things.”

“You are afraid, Tom?” said the other, softly.

“Of course I am,” said the ghost. “I’m terrified, seeing you like this. Oh, my darling, will you be honest with me? Please? Let there be no more secrets between us?”

Woodrow swallowed. “What?”

“Were you making sweet poetry, last night?”

“I don’t know if it was sweet, but… yes.”

“I figured as much,” said Phantom, his heart breaking. “Why did you go alone??”

“You know why. I’m sorry, I was weak, I was foolish- I should not have done it at all. It won’t… it won’t happen again, while you are here. I’m, I worried you, I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You need not apologize, tesoro. But- if you want to write again, if you feel the urge, per favore, you must have me along. Had I been there, I could have protected you-”

“By having the tree fall on your own head?”

“Mon ami, permit me to brag, as that is my nature. I was - I am, a boss, thank you very much! I was designed to stand in the way of Mario himself- do you think such things as a tree will deal me a mortal blow? It took a team of capable heroes to take me down the first time. I am, no offense, my darling- I am stronger than you. Physically, at least. I can take it.”

The warden huffed. “I shall consider these things,” he said. Tom sighed, moving his hand to another part of his beloved’s head. Stubborn, stubborn, foolish man. Foolish, wonderful, good-hearted, selfless, STUBBORN man…

With his free hand, he reached out and took one of the warden’s. “How are you feeling?”

“Alright, I think. I think… I shall sleep soon.”

“You do that,” said Phantom. He took off the poet’s glasses and tucked them gently into his own pocket, where his handkerchief had once lain, and then retook the other’s paw. Watching him close his eyes, and rest, the trails of blood still visible on his long face, Phantom cleared his throat. He opened his mouth… broken and cracked though his voice may be, perhaps… perhaps it would be worth an attempt at a lullaby...

“I’m back,” came a voice behind him. He hadn’t heard Dryad’s approach, floating as she was, and he closed his mouth again. “Has he been alright?” she continued.

“Yes, he seems fine,” said Phantom, as the pixie-like Rabbid joined them, her arms bundled with freshly plucked leaves and flowers. “In fact, I think he’s asleep now. You were quick.”

“Well, I knew just where to look. When Sweetie gets back, I can get to work.” She looked Phantom in the eyes. “By the way- thank you for looking after him. Not just now, but… in general. I know there’s nothing you can do if he wanders off by himself, but- well. I know you care for him, and my partner and I appreciate it. Though Sweetie might struggle with expressing that to you.”

Phantom nodded, and looked back at the sleeping poet. “You two seem to take great care of him. I appreciate that as well. I am very thankful you have kept him safe and whole.”

In a few moments, the lumberjack rushed back into the clearing, a bag slung over his shoulder. He set it down near Woodrow’s hammock, and pulled out a roll of bandages, a large thermos of cool fresh water, and a mortar and pestle.

“Thank you, dear,” said Dryad. “I’m actually going to make two different things- one for numbing, and one for actual medication. It’s going to take a little bit, if you two want to, um… step away… that’s fine.” She gave Sweetlopek a knowing look, and he sighed. She’d been wanting him to talk to Phantom one-on-one for a while. The lumberjack nodded to Phantom, who looked back at Woodrow. “C’mon, she’ll do better with some privacy,” he said, and the two headed off to the edge of the clearing.

Dryad smiled at them, then set to work placing herbs and flower petals into the mortar. Finally, they would have their heart-to-heart… the longtime best friend, and the new lover… perhaps they would find they weren’t so different after all, that they could get along…

---

“You let him get hurt,” hissed the lumberjack, when they had gotten out of earshot and eyeshot of Dryad. He was trembling with anger. “You let him run off, and- we’re lucky this is the worst that happened. He could have-”

“Excuse me!!” hissed Phantom, clearly offended, but trying not to raise his voice. “I suppose you keep track of him at all hours? I’ll have you know, it’s because I respect him that I wasn’t with him last night.”

“Oh yeah?” said the other in an angry whisper.

“Yes, you fool of a woodcutter!! He was not- he did not wish to be with me, last night. He wanted some time alone, in his own house, and of course I obliged. I was not going to beg him to come to my room with me. Even if I would have wanted it so. Were it up to me, I would have not taken my eyes from him until the break of dawn. He would have been far too busy and distracted to write poetry, unless he be an exceptional multitasker-”

“Alright, alright, I don’t need to hear all THAT,” grunted Sweetlopek with a wave of his hand. Then he did a double take back at Phantom. “Wait- did you say he wouldn’t have been able to write poetry?”

“Yes. It’s why he got hurt, isn’t it?”

“So… you know? How long have you known?”

“I’ve known the whole time. Although he did not know I knew, until last night.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” breathed the lumberjack. “Dancing around all that was- so hard.” He crossed his arms, though his frown was now more thoughtful than angry. “So you’ve known, since you got here? Or before? And yet - you still got this close to him? What’s yer game, Phantom?”

“My… game? My game is that I… that he fascinates me.”

“And you played along, with not knowin’ about his condition? Why?”

“Well, because… I wanted him to tell me, in his own time. It was clearly something he did not want to broach, at first. But he did, in time. And now I know - or rather, now he knows I know.”

“I see,” said the woodsman. He bit his lip with one of his big upper teeth, looked sidelong at the ghost, and said, “Have you asked him about his writer’s block? The truth about it?”

“I know that too. I know it was a fabrication, and that in reality he has ceased writing on purpose, to spare me from any misfortune.”

Sweetlopek blew out another sigh of relief. “Alright. Well, I’m glad everything’s out in the open, then.” He scratched the top of his head, which felt so bald when Chipper wasn’t there. “All these secrets were drivin’ me nuts. I’m not a very secretive man.”

Phantom smiled. “You do seem the honest sort. As does Tristan. I do not think the lies were comfortable for him.”

The lumberjack shook his head. “I’m sure they weren’t. And I’m sure not writin’ poems is even worse. Listen- listen to me, Mr. Phantom.” He looked the other in the eyes, his voice involuntarily raising slightly in its urgency and passion. “This is mighty important. You realize he’s givin’ up the greatest passion of his entire life fer yer sake? His nonstop obsession since he was a little boy?”

“I do,” said the ghost, his eyes moving away from the lumberjack’s and looking sadly into the distance, at the leaves that covered the ground, blown into drifts and piles by last night’s winds. “I do not agree with him for it. I am trying to change his mind. I am trying to convince him that I will stay by his side through good fortune and ill.”

“Well… it’s gonna be a lot of ill fortune, if yer with him. You understand that, right? Ya really do?”

Phantom nodded. “I know. But every day… every day, I am more and more convinced it is worth it. And I hope I shall spend the rest of my days growing ever more secure in that conviction.”

Sweetlopek felt himself soften on the inside, the knot of mistrust in his heart loosening. “It’s not easy, carin’ about him. It’s constant worry, and sometimes ya gotta be a comforter and healer too. I just need ya to know that, and accept it. But… yes, you are right. It’s worth it.”

The lumberjack uncrossed his arms as he continued. “Y’know, yer really not what I thought ya’d be like, Phantom. At first, I… really didn’t like you. And I’m not sure I still do. But I can see what Woody likes about you… that much makes sense. I just need ya to answer me one thing, and do it honest- what do you see in him?”

Phantom was quiet for a moment, taking some time to consider his words. “I don’t blame you for not liking me,” he said, still keeping his voice low. “You must have heard the worst. And the worst… is true. I am selfish and vain. A narcissist, an egotist of the highest order. I think only of myself. My last relationship of any note, my sweet honeybee, my darling of springtime… I threw her out like a flower that had wilted in its vase. I know how I ended things with her was wrong. I knew this at the time, and I did not care.” He looked the other in the face. Sweetlopek’s eyes were wide, and his mouth drawn into an anxious line.

The Phantom continued. “The stars have punished me, perhaps. I have become a victim of my own personality. Bea is happy now, but not I. She has found peace, so I hear; but I have fallen into despair. She gathers flowers, while I still wish to gather fans, to drown in their adoration… and I cannot. Perhaps I never shall again. I am washed up, and washing up further by the day.”

“Er… I’m glad ya can be honest with me,” said the lumberjack. “But I ain’t sure what this has to do with Woodrow.”

“I’m getting there!” said the ghost. “Anyway- I have learned something about myself, in my relatively brief existence. And that is this: even thought I have lost much of my glamor, my flaws cannot be shamed out of me, even now. Chide me for my vanity, and I will convince myself I am more beautiful than ever. Dismiss me for my egocentrism, and I will dig in deeper to the idea that everyone else is wrong. But you see- one day I came upon some poetry, and it…filled me with a desire for a peaceful life, quiet afternoons by rivers, the tranquility of the farmlands and the forest. A yearning in my heart for calm.

“And then I met those poems’ author- humble, gentle, selfless, and kind. So many artists I have known, be they actors or writers or singers or painters, are much like myself- ultimately, they care only for their own work, for advancing their careers. Their friendships with others run only as deep as what can be gained by having a wider network. And yet here I had met someone who did what he did whilst caring little for fame or even his own safety. Someone who hardly even discussed his own work. A pure soul, kind and dear, who would give up what he loved to protect someone else. And this past week, Signor Sweetlopek, I have felt… a desire to become better. Not out of shame, but out of inspiration. The desire is within me to be humble and self-sacrificing. I will never be what he is. But I am drawn to him. I want to try, and I want to learn.”

During this monologue, the crackles and fuzz in Phantom’s voice had come out extra strong. Sweetlopek frowned in concern, as he had not heard it to such a degree at the dinner party- but the passion was, perhaps, breaking it.

He reached out his hand, and Phantom met it with his own. The ghost had grown warm again. The two shook.

“I’ll be honest. That is a far better answer than I could’ve expected. Good job… you pass.” He gave Phantom a smile, and a wink. “Now. Let’s go check on our good friend, shall we?”

And the two headed back into the nursery.

[gallavich-headcanon]

anon, dear, i hope you're doing good! i might be in the brain goo - still, bear with me on the being comprehensible part -, but a) you asked for headcanons and b) you're my favourite person to contemplate with, so you'll be my victim tonight-

so, i know you've said somewhere you're not a big fan of time pieces, BUT-

i've read a lot (like. A LOT.) of medieval-ish things the last couple days and spotify graced me with a shitton of ukrainian music today, and now all i can think about is this tradition they got in ukraine in july where they gather around a fire, take their loved ones by the hand, and if they stay locked while jumping over the fire they they'll have a long and happy relationship (bonus: you can do this with friends for health and good fortune, too). they have this other thing, too, where the unmarried women bind wildflowers to wreaths, then set them on a river or pond or whatever to see who'll get married soon (if your wreath flows without problems and moves a bit it's you), and their significant others try to guess which wreath is their girl's and they tryna fish it out-

and listen, listen, i KNOW it probably doesn't make much sense, and i have not thought this through 'till the end, but i need irish ian to somehow end up in ukraine and in the hands and care of mandy, who tries to teach him their ways and their language, because he's kind and sweet, too - and maybe she first hopes he's her wildcard out of her life until she gets to know he's gay? -, and somehow she gets mickey involved in her little social project and she tries very hard to make him be nice to ian, long story short, they all go to the festivities together, get a little drunk maybe and do their little traditions. while it's a rite for the women, i bet mandy'd force him to bind a wreath, still. and maybe she already knows there's something going on between him and her brother and she schemes some more to make mickey fish ian's out of the water, i don't know, my brain doesn't cooperate properly.

bonus lore- iirc they have this magic flower they set out to search at some point, too, as it's said to grant its finder some sort of power, so, just please, mickey and ian having an excuse to disappear in the woods for hours without anybody asking questions.

i only just now realised it's actually a full on au, but i'll send it over anyway, because it's juvenile and mostly lighthearted and i needed to bother someone with it. much love! thanksokaybye.

Hello my darling! My brain is also gooey possibly because it's late though. Perfect time to be your victim of choice!

Disclaimer- I don't really have anything about historical stories, it's just the homophobia of it all, you know? Like I enjoy some angst as much as the next person, but knowing they can't get married and will have to live partially in secret if not in the closet just... spoils it for me. I'm a comfort first, angst second kinda girl, but I also don't want it to be completely unrealistic. (also I need Mickey to be a southside shit talker) So I tend to skip those fics. now that that's out of the way, I'm ready for yours!

FIRST OF ALL I am a sucker for Mickey speaking Ukrainian. I really wish we got that in canon. AND IAN TRYING TO LEARN THAT FOR HIM 💔💔💔💔

they gather around a fire, take their loved ones by the hand, and if they stay locked while jumping over the fire they they'll have a long and happy relationship -> oh my god are you kidding me this sounds so fucking magical!

Okay what if Ian is like injured or something and Mandy finds him, and hides him until he can get better and Mickey is suspicious and follows her one day?

and maybe she already knows there's something going on between him and her brother and she schemes some more to make mickey fish ian's out of the water -> mmm how about yes yes and yes!!!

This is so fucking sweet. I want Ian in a flower crown Mandy made him! and maybe it's too small to his giant head and his looks funny and Mickey teases him and eventually that flower crown mysteriously finds it's way to Mickey's head. because that's what flower crowns do.

Them just walking in the forest and talking for hours. Maybe they find a job for Ian that gets them to hang out and Mickey teaches him Ukrainian?

NOSHO please send any and all AU / thoughts / headcanons always and forever!

[bvannn]

Weekly Update March 1, 2024

I’m not doing the best this week but I’m also not doing the worst. I’ve not been sleeping well and I think it’s culminating today so slightly early update post just in case I fall asleep early tonight. I’ve had on and off moodiness and flareups but not a whole lot of surgery sickness, hoping next week will be the same. I think this week was a lot of semester stress, which makes it hard to take care of myself. I just ate three applesauces and next week is spring break, so I should have a bit of breathing room for more art stuff. Just in time for my art block to maybe be giving way. All I gotta do is get caught up on sleep, which I’ll try to start tonight.

So I’ve been trying to put more brain power into actual Oc story writing stuff this week. I have the little comic I’m working on in the background and that’s going a bit slower than I’d like but I’m still making progress and reviewing over it there’s fewer older pages needing redo than I’d thought. I’m also now officially through the second act of the episode/chapter/ w/e, so the third should move smoothly. Scenes are flowing nicer than I thought they would, generally going pretty good.

I also finally think my animation art block is giving way. Clip studio is good for flowier animation so I’d like to combine it with flash for any actual big animation projects I try to pick up but on it’s own it’s fine for smaller ones. I might do some more sketch style test animations for unfamiliar movements, and eventually I’ll need to do a test for one with lineart and color layers. The interface is not user friendly at all but I did figure out how to do it the way I had wanted. Not planning on doing any shaded animations though, shading will have to be done with after effects somehow. I’ll round up ideas for test animations tonight because I’m very headfoggy today so I doubt I’ll be able to throw music together.

I’ll definitely do a quick little gif for the bigger song I finished, I’ll try to get going on the next one, but for the time being I might finish up some half baked covers. I’ve fiddled with vocaloid more now, have two half finished vocal parts I’m using to test out how the English and Japanese banks work with English songs. Japanese bank is working better than I thought, but it’s annoying having to play with the dynamic and exciter settings for certain consonants, and the limited vowel selection also sucks, but it’s not like the English banks have basically the same issues too. I just need to play with settings a bit more, finish writing out the vocal parts (should basically be copy paste at this point, I’m already through one chorus of each), and throw together instrumentals to go with them, but I picked songs with simple instrumentals anyway, so it shouldn’t be too hard to get a skeletal structure ready, then I can fill it in with piano or violin because I can’t go two songs without either I’m addicted.

Music comic and animation are the main things I did this week but I am slowly getting my updated commission sheet together. I’ll probably start timing myself on smaller songs so I can try to add music options properly. Animation comms would be nice too but that’ll definitely be a ways off.

I did make unexpected progress writing an epithet TTRPG campaign, it’s like mostly structured, but maps minis and some encounters still need to get written. I might sit down to do that over break. I’m more certain now that I’ll need to take people online as players but I’ll wait until I’m closer to run before I make a google form for that

I’m going to try to either spend tonight with friends or go to bed early or both. I’m a bit worried about my body because flareups have been getting bad but tomorrow I don’t have to move my legs at all beyond doing laundry so I should be fine. If plans for both fall through I’ll either watch a movie or cartoon (I don’t do very often but if I indulge in media I can improve my writing skills) or draw or both. Tomorrow is walled off for homework though I don’t think I’ll be able to do much else.