#but oh my god why did he have to be a confederate

[navree]

someone needs to have a talk with taylor sheridan because between yellowstone having one of its main antagonists be an evil blood purist native american (whose evil crime is he doesn’t like that a white rancher acts like he owns land that, ya know, was stolen and  also said white rancher is treated as being in the moral right for using his undue influence over the government to have the native american guy arrested on trumped up legal charges and then tell him he’s not oppressed and can’t be mad about the treatment of other native americans he was elected to be responsible for because he went to harvard) and 1883′s main dutton character being a literal soldier in the confederate army, someone’s gotta check if everything’s on the up and up

[zombiekillerbiceps]

Closing In

Leon follows reader home...

Note: thank you to anon for suggesting this premise, ohhhh I did not realize how much I would like writing this - and thank you everyone for your patience!

Content: 3.9 k words, 18+, cnc with enthusiastic consent, stalking roleplay, slasher roleplay, home invasion roleplay, denial, rough sex, taunting, humiliation, crying, overstim, sadism/masochism, Slasher!Leon, obsessed Leon, LeonxReader, fem reader, no y/n. 

-

"I dunno, I just think it's kind of romantic," you say. Your hands fiddle nervously with the tassels on your throw pillow.

"He was a stalker, babe." Leon's voice hides just a hint of amusement. "He cut women up."

"Okay, but besides that-"

"Besides the... The serial killing."

"Yes! Besides the serial killing."

Leon stared at you, an eyebrow arched in judgement. You tried to stay straight faced - by God, you tried - but he had a way of half-smirking his way past your mask with his annoying, pretty face.

"Look, I'm just saying," you roll your eyes, not even sure why you keep talking, "something about... Obsessing over someone like that is kiiind of romantic. What's the point of love if it doesn't make you a little crazy? Y'know? Anne Rice would agree with me."

"Anne Rice was horny for a Confederate twink," he points out.

You gawk for a moment. But like, he's kind of right. So instead of saying anything clever, you throw the pillow at him. He deflects it with his forearm, but that gives you the opening to jump on him. You're wrestling in no time, breathless and sweaty and... Moving against each other...

-

You're out for lunch with your friend, Jessie, at some too-fancy Parisian style café. You sip a caramel iced latte and share a plate of rose coloured macarons. She complains about her studies, you complain about work, and you both come to the resounding agreement that deadlines suck. She complains about her last date, some butch that was more well-read than her that accidentally made her feel stupid. You don't have the heart to tell her that they sounded cool as hell. You tip-toe around telling her about Leon. It's not that you weren't proud of him, it was just... With the nature of his job, what were you going to say? Yeah, I'm seeing this guy who has a gun case built into the dresser and is super paranoid about people visiting his place and won't tell me what he does but he's like, totally a sweet guy and not some psycho? Yeah. Okay.

You stretch, appreciating the summer sun on your limbs and the peaceful breeze around your skirt. Your phone rings. Jessie snatches it up before you have a chance to, and then gives you the most scandalous, shit-eating grin you've ever seen.

"No. Don't you dare-!"

"Hiiiii lover boy," she coos over the phone.

Oh fuck, kill me.

"Jessie, give me the phone!" You reach across the table, the ceramic plate between you clattering loudly against the glass table. You freeze, feeling eyes on you. Jessie opens her mouth in mock embarrassment.

"So you're the secret boyfriend that my best friend keeps hiding from me?"

"Jessie, come on."

She listens for a moment, then laughs. You get up from your chair and walk over to her while she tries to twist away from your grasp.

"mhm, mhm - oh, sorry, I think someone wants to talk to y-"

You finally snatch it from her grasp. You give her a stare with the intensity of someone who can kill by staring. You try to keep your voice as flat as possible.

"Hey, sorry about that. What's up?"

"Is that Jessie?" He asks. He's got that... Quirk in his voice. The one that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You can feel Jessie watching you and try to keep it cool.

"Yeah, sorry, she's like, literally five years old sometimes."

"She seems fun."

"Babe, I'm kinda busy, did you have a reason for-"

"That's a pretty dress you're wearing."

You freeze halfway to sitting back down in your chair. Jessie tilts her head, giving you that concerned-puppy-dog face she did when she knew something was up.

You clear your throat and find it suddenly dry. You sit back down but you're a little clumsy, your skirt getting caught on the arm rests. You snatch it back, and then trying to regain your cool, you take a sip from your iced latte. You hear him chuckle on the other end. Did it get cold all of a sudden?

"What, uh, what do you mean by that?"

You can practically hear him grin into the receiver.

"I mean," he says, drawing out every syllable. "I can see you. And you look pretty today. That skirt will roll up pretty easy-"

You hang up on him. Mostly in panic. There was no way you were going to do that in public! Your eyes scan the area around you. Pretty cafe patio, pretty park across the street, some people going about their daily business. You can't see him anywhere. He must be fucking with you. He must have known you were going to wear a dress, it's so hot out, and where would he even be hiding?

A cold hand touches yours and you almost jump out of your skin. Jessie's taking your hand in hers, and when you meet her gaze, she looks like she's about to cry.

"I'm so sorry if I caused any issues between you, I totally shouldn't have answered it. I didn't think he'd like, get angry with you," she starts to wetly babble, swaying between guilty and protective. You love her very much, but you don't know what to say.

Oh, it's just this weird sex game we play, I promise this brooding dude who you've never met and only spoken to once is definitely a good guy and not like emotionally abusive.

"Hey, hey, Jessie. Don't worry about it. It wasn't about that he's got this... Thing. Unrelated. But uh, look, I have to go."

She frowns, almost curving her pink lip-glossed mouth into a pout.

"If he so much as leaves a scratch on you, I will kill him."

Your thoughts flit to the bite marks and bruises that are just covered by your dress. If only she knew.

You kiss her cheek, snatch up one final macaron, and take your leave. You try to control your pace, look cool, act natural. Your eyes scan the buildings and alleyways around you. You seriously can't find him.

Your phone rings.

You stare at it for a moment. Your hands are shaking a little when you answer it.

"It's sweet how much she cares about you," he says. An idea dawns on you. You nod and give an mhm sound, listening around you for anything noticeable. A church bell rings just ahead of you and you hear it echo over the phone.

"You're close," you say. You try to sound threatening. He just laughs at you.

"Obviously. How else would I know you're wearing that citrus perfume I love?"

"I wear that everyday." Your voice shakes as you speak, and you can't help but whip your head around. You half expect to see him there, but it's just some guy who gives you a dirty look.

"No, you don't. You only wear it when you're going to see friends. You usually wear the vanilla one. You like that it's so subtle."

You're a little impressed he noticed that. It was kind of sweet, really, if he wasn't totally freaking you out. How did he possibly get close enough to smell your perfume without you noticing?  You start walking again. You want to catch the train home. Maybe you can trap him there.

You use the shop windows as you pass to get a better look, pretending to window shop.

"Do you think I'd look good in that," you ask, with no idea what you're referring to. You're looking past whatever is behind the glass to observe the reflection. A spot of blonde hair, maybe... He got a totally different hair cut? No. Not him.

"Using the reflection. Clever."

He hangs up.

You spin around again, desperately searching the crowd. He was a beefy guy and he moved like a panther, there's no way he was just casually blending in. But, you can't find him.

You wrap your arms around your core. Knowing you're being watched makes you want to shrink into yourself. Yet you can't ignore the excitement you feel. It was kind of romantic, really. Kind of dangerous.

You liked Leon best when he was dangerous.

You set off again, somehow walking a knife's edge between nervous and confident. Both prey and prize. You keep looking over your shoulder as you pass into the crowded underground of the subway station. It's right around rush hour and it's so packed you can hardly move. Other people are breathing your oxygen and you're just recycling theirs. It's tight, and hot, and moving at the exact speed that makes you feel like no one is really getting anywhere. You pull your purse tight to your body and try to shove past people, only to be confronted with more people.

Your phone rings. You hang up. And then, in a stroke of brilliance, you call back.

His ringtone echoes out in the tiled halls. You try desperately to find it, but it only rings out twice, then it's lost in the sea of people.

"Clever," his voice is deep on the other end. "I'm almost impressed."

"Yeah. Why don't you stop hiding?"

"Oh, I know you're eager, but I didn't think you'd want me to cut you up in this crowd."

He's impatient. You can tell by the sharpness of his voice that he's more frustrated than he admits. The threat sends a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but picture yourself bent over on the filthy tile floor, knife to your throat, fucked within an inch of your life as people step past. The ebb and flow of the crowd pushes you towards the oncoming subway.

"What exactly is your plan?" He asks. You can hear the screeching brakes over the phone. "I know you take the 76 Southbound until Queen Street. I know you get off and walk two blocks to George Street. I know you live in a turn of the century brownstone with a heritage plaque and bathroom sink that takes forever to drain."

You step onto the 76 Southbound near the front. You press your back to the wall and watch as people get on.

"Yeah, well," you say victoriously, "I know you have to go the same way."

And then you see him. He walks directly into your trap, and realizes it too late. His blue eyes widen in realization. The door slams shut behind him.

You hang up.

Some people pile up in front of you, giving you cover from him. You watch him from behind shoulders and under arms. Open, navy bomber jacket and a grey t-shirt with black jeans doesn't exactly scream slasher killer. But, something about how casual he looks keeps your attention. He blends in, he's unsuspecting. And, to your surprise, he's grinning like a fox.

He's broad, and when he moves through the crowd, people make room for him. He scans every seat and every face with purpose. Inching his way towards the back. You realize you have nowhere to go. You start to panic. Maybe you get off a stop early? And then what, he beats you to your house and waits for you?

No, you have to get home before he does. Lock the doors before he can get in. You push closer to the door so you can be the first one off. You turn to track his progress and directly meet his gaze.

Fuck.

His expression drops, his eyes glaring at you from under his brow. You're almost hypnotized by them, frozen in place while he cuts through the crowd.

You're pinned down with nowhere to go. But, surely, nothing will happen in public, right?

He pushes past a few more people and then he's on you. He towers above you, his broad shoulders cutting out other's view of you. You notice how his t-shirt clings to his body. How well fitting his jeans are. You also notice the angry squint in his eyes from under his brow.

"Did you really think you could hide from me?" He brings a hand down to touch your hip, holding it in his grasp. You quiver against him as he leans down, close enough to whisper in your ear. "Don't you know I’ll always find you?"

You turn your head away from him defiantly. Your eyes scan the train, but passengers nearby don't seem to notice. They all have that vacant long-day- commute stare.

"No one's going to help you, sweetheart." He closes in, one arm rests on the wall beside you, his body angled to ensure prying eyes can't see. His free hand slides up your body. It caresses the curves of your hips, the softness of your tummy, the round of your breast.

You flush. Your hands come up to his chest as if that will stop him from pawing at your tits.

"Leon, seriously? Here?" You whisper it, completely embarrassed.

"I can take you whenever I want." He uses that commanding voice you've only heard a handful of times before. "You're mine."

To prove his point, his hand dips between your thighs, and he presses his fingers against your pussy over the fabric of your skirt. It's so sudden and strong, your hand goes to his wrist on instinct. He doesn't stop, rubbing hard enough to make your legs shake.

"Could probably take you right here," he mutters, his breath hot on your ear. You feel yourself get wet at the thought.

"Queen Street." The robotic, automated subway voice chimes out from overhead.

The door opens. You lose your balance, but manage to recover quickly. You move fast, hoping to put as much distance between yourself and Leon as you can. You take the stairs two at a time until you breach the surface, taking in the fresh air like it would save you. But the summer heat brokers no peace, and you know Leon isn't far behind.

You don't look behind you for fear of slowing down. You take one block normally, then decide to cut through an alley way to save time. Every minute was another he could be gaining on you.

As you take a few paces into the alley, your hair starts to stand on end. It's somehow darker here, the smell of mildew and gasoline making your stomach turn. Your cell phone rings. You answer.

"Stop calling!" You snap, betraying more fear than you mean to.

"An alleyway? You're smarter than this." Leon is unphased by your outburst.

You give in, turning your head to look behind you. He stands at the other end, the sun behind him obscuring his features.

Then he moves. With long, easy strides, he makes ground quickly. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he whistles a slow, off-beat tune. 

You turn and run. Your hand meets the corner at the end of the alley and you use it to redirect your momentum. Full tilt sprinting in a sundress down a public street in the middle of the day probably makes you look crazy. Leon made you look crazy.

You get to your brownstone on George Street. You take the few steps up to the front door. You throw your phone in your purse as you frantically rip through it for your keys.

Fuck, come on, where are they? Lipstick, tampon, water bottle, wallet FUCK! There. You snatch them up like they'll save your life. Your hands shake as you put them in the lock. It turns, and you take one last look to see Leon - oh shit!

He's at the base of the stairs! He takes them by two. You manage to get the door open wide enough to barely squeeze through. His hand slaps against the door but you throw your full weight against it. It slams in his face. He turns the knob. You struggle to hold it against him as you turn the dead bolt. Then the chain. He slams a fist against the door and you slowly back away from it.

A chilling thought dawns on you.

Back door.

You run to the other side of the house, tripping over shoes and a discarded purse as you do, cursing as they steal precious seconds from you. You turn the corner and run directly into the door. Your body stings from the impact. You shakily turn the lock.

Silence. For a few, long minutes, there's just silence. You wonder, disappointed, if he gave up, but take the time to catch your breath.

Your cell phone rings. Sweat rolls down your back as you answer it.

"I got you, motherfucker."

"Did you?" He asks. His voice is cool. Calm. "How confident are you that you got to the back door before I did?"

"I would have heard you come in." You aren't so sure.

"Would you?"

Your apartment is small. You approach the bedroom, then quickly snap the door open. It lies still. Empty.

"You don't scare me," you lie.

"I really almost had you there, didn't I?" He's calling your bluff as you move into the kitchen, "What do you think I would have done if I'd caught up to you?"

The kitchen is still and quiet too. You don't have an answer for him, anxiety knotting in your stomach. You take the turn into the living room.

His arms wraps around your waist with enough strength to lift you off the ground. You scream. You kick at him, but he doesn't budge, dragging you into the living room.

You see a window open.

"Did you climb the fucking trellis?" You ask, shocked and amused at the sight. He tries not to laugh.

"Yeah."

"What are you, Romeo?"

"You said you wanted romance," and then, his voice drops again to that cold, serious tone that makes you feel like prey, "isn't this what you wanted?"

He lets you go and you take the opportunity to run. But his hand is entangled in your hair, the sharp pain making you cry out. Tears gather in your eyes and you whimper. You grab his forearm and try to pull away, but the self-inflicted pain makes you freeze. He rolls his eyes.

"You're just so fucking predictable."

He drags you across the living room floor. It hurts, bare knees roughly hitting the hard wood floor. He lifts you up with an arm around your stomach. Then, he's bending you over the couch.

You try to push back against it. You struggle against him. He pulls your head back by the hair and you nearly sob.

"Please, don't," you whimper. He rolls his eyes at you.

"Not our safe word, sweetheart."

His words make you feel so beautifully helpless. The tears finally fall down your cheeks and, at the same time, you become aware of how soaked your cotton underwear is. His hand comes up and slaps you sharply. You whimper. He does it again, this time harder. The stinging in the side of your face is enough to make your pussy clench around nothing.

He pins you to the side of the couch his hands on your hips. He rolls your skirt up, and makes a choked sound at the sight of you. He tears your underwear down harshly. 

"Please, don't," he mocks with a harsh slap on your ass. "Try and tell me you don't want this."

A finger slides along your slick, from hole to clit. He presses his finger against it just slightly but it's enough to make your hips buck. He gently rolls a finger around your clit a few times, already building that high in the pit of your stomach. He barely fucking touched you and you're already desperate to cum, breath ragged, legs shaking. Leon pulls away. You whimper in disappointment. Then his hand comes down hard against your ass cheek. Then again. Then again. Then again.

The pain is overwhelming. But god, you don't want him to stop. You want hand-shaped bruises on your ass, you want to remember this every time you sit down for the next week.

"You look so pretty for me when you cry" His hand still wet from your cunt comes up and rubs your tears away, leaving an obscene mix of your tears and your desperation for him on your cheeks. The tears keep falling anyways. Then, softly, "you do remember our safe word, right?"

You nod, but you don't say it. You want to go further. You want him to hurt you more. 

“Hey, answer me when I’m fucking talking to you,” he grabs you roughly by the jaw, wrenching your face to look at him. 

“Yes,” you nod, desperately. “I remember.” 

“Wasn’t so fucking hard,” he says. He slaps you again, hard enough to stun you into a stupid, teary-eyed grin.

You hear his pants unbutton, then unzip, then fall to the ground, but you're so overwhelmed you can't move. His hand still in your hair, still tugging enough to remind you of your place beneath him, he lines his hips up with yours.

Then he's pushing into you. One, smooth motion is all it takes, your cunt greedily pulling him in. A high pitched moan escapes his throat, followed by a groaned "so fucking wet."

He fucks you deep and slow. Torturously slow, enjoying every minute of pleasure that he gets. The head of his cock presses against your g-spot, building the high like one boils water. Slowly. Your abdomen pressed against the couch makes it easier for him. The hour of teasing and adrenaline and painful foreplay has you overstimulated. But it’s really the slow, deep fucking that drives electricity through your body. Push and pull, ebb and flow, your face and ass stinging as he works. You’re already bordering on the edge, but his pace doesn’t allow you to go over. You just hover there. And hover there. And hover there. For what feels like hours you’re kept right on the edge without ever going over, building the tension inside you until it fucking hurts, and then you’re crying again. You want him to slam his hips into you, to fuck you into the couch, to do something to make you cum, but he doesn’t.

“Leon, it hurts,” you whine. 

“It’s supposed to.” 

“Please,” you beg, desperation making your voice hoarse. “Please just make me cum, please.” 

“Relax.” 

“Leon-” 

“I said relax. Or I’ll stop right now. Do you want me to stop?” 

“No,” you shake your head, hair falling into your face. 

He takes his time to smooth it back, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. He wipes more tears from your cheeks. When he speaks, though, his voice is so hard and cold. 

“Greedy little whore.” 

With no warning, he’s fucking into you harder. Faster. It only takes a few thrusts before you’re cumming on his cock. Your body tenses so hard your muscles scream, shaking and moaning and gasping for air. Your cunt tightens so hard you hear Leon breathe a fuck, baby. It feels like it lasts forever, and when you finally come down, you’re entirely dazed. 

You’re... vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, hot and sticky. But for the most part you just feel like you’re floating. Leon slowly lowers you to the floor, grabbing a throw pillow and tucking it under your head. You close your eyes. 

You wake again when the room is an orange glow, a blanket thrown over you for comfort. Leon is lounging on the couch reading a book, and when you stir, you immediately have his attention. 

“Hey,” you mumble sleepily. 

“Hey. Thought I’d let you sleep, you looked like you needed it. Why don’t I run us a shower?” 

“Yeah,” you smile softly, dreamy fuzziness still clinging to you. “I’d like that.” 

[blackjackkent]

Finally made it to Nine-Fingers' office!

I actually passed it on the way into the Guildhall and definitely didn't actually need to do all that wandering around. XD Ah well. Exploration is never wasted (and we found Mol!).

The biggest mystery about this office is that it has three doors, all equally accessible, but only one of them is illegal to open and locked. Go figure.

[crashes through one of the unlocked doors] NINE-FINGERS I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR GANG WAR; TELL ME WHERE MINSC IS!

She's busy talking with a very creepy-looking masked guy (I assume a leader of one of the groups that make up the confederation of the Guild).

"It's an orphanage, Uktar. What would you have me do, seize their toys as payment?"

"They failed to pay tribute. We should withdraw our protection, at the very least."

"And cede more ground to the Stone Lord? You're not suggesting I yield a single inch of the city - my city - to this cult?"

"I-- we already look weak! If you're seen to be forgiving debts..."

"I didn't say 'forgive.' Seize the building. Arm any children old enough. If they protect what's mine, we'll consider that a start on what's owed."

"...Yes, Guildmaster."

OK, so this lady seems like a badass. I love me a good Aria T'Loak vibe - powerful, possessive of that power, ready to kick the shit out of anyone who crosses her - and we're definitely in that general vein here. Hopefully we can stay on her good side.

At this point they noticed Hector and co. wandering in - particularly Jaheira.

"Excuse me? This is a private council."

"Keep your underpants clean, Uktar. We're playing host to a hero." She turns towards Jaheira, looks her over with a smirk. "You owe me a gold piece, grandmother. When I heard you died out in the wilderness, I made an offering at Kelemvor's well."

"Of gold?" Jaheira responds dryly. "I did not know I meant so much to you, guildmaster."

"I'm terribly sentimental," Keene quips. "Case in point - I've just let a Harper walk through my Guildhall, noticeably unholed. Because I'm curious - about why you're here, and who it is you've brought with you."

She flicks a glance at Hector, although it's clear he is very much a secondary interest.

Normally Hector would just let Jaheira do the talking here, but Jaheira specifically mentioned asking him to do the talking with Keene, so he will do his best.

"Hi there!" he says brightly. "I'm a friend of Jaheira's."

("Jaheira approves." ^_^ )

"How nice," Keene says coolly. "You won't find many of those in my Guildhall."

"We won't tax your hospitality too long, Nine-Fingers," Jaheira says briskly. "I'm searching for Minsc of Rashemen."

The guildmaster tilts her head to the side and smiles slowly. "A big name, that. Such information does not come cheap, High Harper - not in normal times. Of course... seeing as these are not normal times, and we're all such good friends... I'll do better than tell you where he is. I'm bringing him here as we speak."

Hector's eyebrows shoot up. Jaheira stiffens, her eyes narrowing with a sudden, visible flash of hope.

Keene is very aware of the reaction she is engendering, because she lets it linger a moment before she sticks the knife in.

"Or parts of him, at least," she finishes coldly. "I gave no orders about the condition of his corpse."

Hector's fists clench at his sides, but before he can speak, Jaheira has surged forward, a rage flaring into her eyes unlike anything he has seen from her before. "What treachery is this, Nine-Fingers?!" she roars. Her hands twitch towards the blades on her back. "Have you thrown in with the Absolute too?"

Keene's smile turns brittle. "Against my own city?" she answers icily, not flinching back from Jaheira's glare. "Careful - you're in very real danger of hurting my feelings."

Her lip curls in a vindictive sneer. "It's *Minsc* who's found his faith with Faerun's newest god. And a new name with it - the Stone Lord."

All the color drains from Jaheira's face and she goes completely still. "Lies..." she whispers hoarsely.

Oh my god.

OK so first of all - WHAT THE FUCK NO MINSC NOOOOOOO

Second - this feels so obvious in retrospect. An anonymous reader (who I would totally tag here if I knew who they were, to let them know I finally hit the payoff) let me know a few days back that Minsc is LITERALLY ALIVE BECAUSE HE WAS A STATUE FOR A CENTURY. Of COURSE he's the fucking Stone Lord. Especially since the last time Jaheira saw him he was being pounced on by 124135124 Absolutist mind flayers; him becoming one himself is even more likely than him being dead, which was already pretty likely.

After my massive victory moment with the Emperor's identity earlier this afternoon I'm doubly annoyed I didn't make this connection. XD

Third - AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOO WE MUST SAVE MY BOY AND HIS HAMSTER >:|

Hector gets to take over the dialogue here which makes a certain amount of sense because Jaheira is PISSSSSSSSED and UPSET and I want to give her a HUG. D: Clock her incredibly angry face on the right side while Hector tries to salvage the situation:

"What makes you think he's joined the Absolute?" Hector asks. "Maybe he just doesn't like thieves."

"Aye," Keene says with a shrug, leaning against the desk behind her. "I considered that. But there's a pattern to his strikes - an intent. In his short reign, the Stone Lord and his crew have earned a reputation. Pure brutality. No survivors. And where he mows my people down, this ripe little cult takes root."

Oh, Minsc, buddy, no. :( That is not buttkicking for goodness, that is buttkicking for BADNESS. Don't do that.

"But not for much longer," Keene finishes coldly. "We have word on where he plans to hit next - and he'll find us ready to hit back this time."

Jaheira swallows and spreads her hands in a placating gesture; her voice softens, and Hector can hear the note of deep pain underlaying it. "Nine-Fingers--" she begins, then stops, tries again. "Astele. Call off your ambush. Tell us where he is, and we'll handle this."

"'We'?" Keene answers disdainfully. "I heard what happened to your Harpers, Jaheira. I'm sorry - but this fight's too big for you alone."

"She's not alone," Hector points out. "She has me."

("Jaheira approves.")

Keene's eyes flash with sudden irritation. "If you're half the friend you're posing as," she snaps, "you'll tell her that her part in this is done. The Stone Lord's fate is sealed. We have a bigger war to fight. I'd rather turn our talk to that, but if you need a moment, Jaheira..."

She pauses, looks at Jaheira for a long moment, and then her expression softens almost imperceptibly. "Well, you've earned that much. My Guildhall is open to you. Have a drink, Jaheira. Have a *rest.*"

And then the softness is gone, and her whole attitude goes cold as steel. "Just leave well enough alone. It would be a shame for the city to lose two of its heroes in one day."

[mlobsters]

supernatural s9e22 stairway to heaven (w. andrew dabb)

confederate flag in the banana split...? apparently last episode s8e6 southern comfort that was covered in them too was set in missouri as well

sam, now you're sleeping on top of the covers in jeans too? we're regressing

SAM What's wrong with you? I could have shot you. [checks his watch] Why aren't you sleeping? We got in like two hours ago.

probably feel slightly more rested if you were in comfy clothes under the covers. just sayin

obligated to point out bedroom vanity sink situation

DEAN I called Cas. He said there's something going down in Missouri. SAM What kind of something? DEAN He said he couldn't talk about it over the phone. SAM Why? DEAN Because he is a weird guy, okay? He's a weird, dorky, little guy. But he happens to have an army of Angels behind him, and, even though I hate to say it, if we're gonna take a shot at Metatron, they might be useful.

lol

SAM Well, do you think we need the First Blade? Why don't we just leave that here? DEAN We talked about this, and we decided that -- SAM No. In all fairness, we didn't decide. You did.

appreciate that

DEAN Okay, I decided that a hockey stick that can kill anything might come in handy, so sue me. SAM How many times have we been around this block? Magic that powerful comes at a price, and right now we don't know what that price is.

s4e20 the rapture

you end up with a gutter bunny sam situation

DEAN I'm fine. I'm fan-friggin'-tastic. SAM And I'm glad, honestly. I'm not saying we bury the thing. I'm saying we just save it for when we really need it. Crowley. Metatron. The big boss fights. You don't have to have it with you all the time, right? I mean, just leave it. Please. DEAN [setting the blade to the side] No problem. SAM Thank you.

let me guess, he doubles back and grabs it anyway

haha okay andrew dabb. did follow up saying some really shitty stuff, so we can gloss over the shade

SAM Uh, roll call? You hold, uh, roll call? CASTIEL They like to hear me say their names. DEAN I know a couple of women like that.

what a weird, weird line to go with (castiel's). it wasn't creepy before but it sure is now!

boop boop command shell results lemme click

DEAN Cas, I know you try to be a good guy, okay? I do. You try. But what you got here, this is a a freakin' cult. CASTIEL Dean. DEAN And the last time you had this kind of juice, you did kill humans and angels, and you did nothing but lie to me and Sam about it the whole damn time! SAM Can we, uh -- can we take this somewhere else, guys? [They enter CASTIEL's private office] SAM Will you stow the baggage, Dean.

understandable baggage, but also yes

CASTIEL No. If you don't want my help, then I will follow Josiah's trail to Colorado. I have to do something, Dean. DEAN All right, fine. But Sam's coming with you. SAM What? CASTIEL Because you don't trust me? DEAN To help.

well sam and cas quality time, then. can chat about wtf is up with dean. and sam seems to have fully stowed his baggage, i mean, breaking the wall in his head kind of feels unforgivable but i guess not

CASTIEL Abaddon is dead. SAM And then some. CASTIEL Oh, no. SAM Okay. Um...Ominous.

cute

CASTIEL He does seem angry. I mean, he's always a little angry, but now it seems like...more. I think a part of him actually believed that I ordered those angels to, you know...Sam, you don't, do you? SAM No, man. Cas, listen. You got a weird thing going on back there. Those other angels, the way they stare at you, I-it's like you're part rock star, part L. Ron. CASTIEL They've put their faith in me. SAM And maybe that's the problem. I mean, people have been doing messed up crap in the name of faith -- in the name of God -- since forever.

sam's being so earnest and open

FLAGSTAFF Not funny "ha ha." But you thinking you help people -- it's amusing. I help people. A clogged artery here, a tumor there. I do good in this world. You -- you believe every problem can be solved with a gun. You play the hero, but underneath the hype, you're a killer with oceans of blood on his hands. I hate men like you. DEAN Honey, there ain't no other men like me.

kind of fair, kind of not. but poking the already pissed off bear who you think is a murderer anyway, maybe not the best call?

also sure, tessa. why not

DEAN Yeah. See, that just doesn't sound like the Cas I know. TESSA But doesn't it, though? And the Cas you know, would he raise an army of angels without telling you? 'Cause this Cas did.

ouch. and surprising no one, dean does in fact have the first blade. he's a few stabbings away from his own gutter bunny moment, i think

glad they clarified in conversation that she threw herself on the blade

SAM We had a deal. DEAN Yeah, well, it was a stupid deal. SAM Really? 'Cause if you'd stuck to it, Tessa would still be alive. Without her, we ain't got jack. DEAN Yeah, you think I don't know that? You think I wanted that to happen? SAM I don't know, Dean. Did you? CASTIEL All right, that's enough. Stop it.

sorry, dad 😔

so cas has to kill dean or everyone will leave. sure, why not!! it's not as bad as the leviathans but good grief i'm tired of this

METATRON So? Well, that's an old writer's trick -- flipping the script. You start by building up a seemingly unbeatable enemy, like the death star, or a rival angel with a bigger army. That way, I look like the underdog. But then, oh, no! The competition gets greedy. He starts pushing things too much. With the help of my combustible double agents. And then, after a rousing speech, his true weakness is revealed. He's in love with humanity. And now...I'm inevitable.

*taps the sign*

also the pause "he's in love .... with humanity" was that one for the destiel shippers :p

CASTIEL Long enough to destroy Metatron, I hope. But without an army... DEAN Well, hey, you still got us. CASTIEL Dean. Those bombers -- you don't really think that I -- DEAN Cas, you just gave up an entire army for one guy. No, there's no way that you blew those people away. CASTIEL You really believe we three will be enough? DEAN We always have been.

trying to remember when they actually solved a big problem with cas. he was there with getting lucifer in the cage... blowing up dick roman/in purgatory. hum. too tired i think, will have to look it up later

GADREEL I've...made mistakes. But haven't you? Haven't we all?

understatement of the century lol

little slice from the first blade for his trouble, again surprising no one

well that one had some fun punchy moments, jackles is getting to use his detached face a lot, sam's still on the empathy overload train. but i am so weary of the angel plotline

[paragonrobits]

My Circle of Exalted characters I am currently plotting out, one of whom is not an Exalt, badly summarized

Infernal Slayer, a gremlin lady and absolute weird little wretch. her solution to everything is punches that nuke you with hate lasers. eats everything, including the things that are not possible to eat. whenever she powers up she mutates into a variety of weird freakazoid monsters. perpetually horny, gluttonous and weird at all times. is the single nicest person you’ll ever meet and believes the best in people, including her Yozi masters, the jury is out if she is hopelessly naive or if the same experiences that got her an Infernal Exaltation gave her such low expectations of humanity that she expects way too much goodness from the slightest signs of not being a complete garbage heap. She’s what happens if you make the Hulk, Asura from Asura’s Wrath and Hellboy do a fusion dance, and filter the result through Steven Universe while desperately trying to reconcile the narratively inappropriate powers of Endless Horror with the attitude of It’s ME, EVERYONE’S FRIEND

Solar Twilight. A cat beastfolk or some kind of cat-adjacent wyld mutant constantly apologizing for her existence to the point of naming herself after the garbage you get rid off after smelting because no one wanted it. She’s actually really good at a lot of things from punching to teaching to crafting All The Things, and she still feels like she needs to be Better to be worthy of the Sun’s favor (Though the jury is out if the Sun actually had any input this time).

Lunar Full Moon. Was originally a beastman of a vaguely tyrant lizard disposition but managed to create a human form after Exaltation; he didn’t have a deep seated hatred of his body, he just felt like it. His spirit shape is a tyrant lizard, he’s just the hugest buffest guy you ever did see, and he deliberately puts on a variety of personas and fronts to mislead enemies or troll people for giggles. He’s essentially Grimlock from Transformers translated into Exalted terms (albiet not as an Alchemical, even if that would make more sense); he’s a very smart guy who weaponizes an assumption of him as a rampaging brute specifically to pull one over on enemies. Is quickly developing a reinassance man and polymath vibe.

Dragon-Blooded Air Caste from a confederation of nomadic tribes living way out in the Wyld, and consequently does not know or care what the Immaculate Order is or why people assume she should be yelling at those obviously chosen by the gods (or at least god-adjacent glowy things) as anathema or whatever. A shaman and dealer with spirits who is trying very hard to maintain an air of professionalism and suppress her desire to be extremely sassy all the time. She’s also what they technically call ‘fucking huge’ because her tribe regarded mutations as an indication of innate talents and nothing more, and she’s got the Giant merit, she’s ten feet tall and disappointed in how doorways are so closed in. Has a bone to pick with a Deathlord that is a very blatant stand-in for Sauron.

Lunar Changing Moon, spirit shape is a spider. THIS LADY. OH MAN, THIS LADY. she is just goddamn weird and gremlin, even worse than the Infernal. Her favored ATtributes are Intelligence and Dexterity, caste is Appearance and Manipulation, and this winds up creating a weird mad scientist witch who loves terrifying and seducing people at complete random, stealing forms and tricking enemies into feuding against each other, and duping foes into attacking duplicate fakes who were carrying way too much firedust. no one even knows where she gets it or why she likes explosions so much. She’s really looking forward to learning Charms to make her other forms big so she can turn into a spider the size of a tyrant lizard, hide in someone’s palace and jump out going ‘BOOGA BOOGA!’. She’s heavily inspired by Loki, specifically the older stories of him that we got.

Alchemical Jade Caste; a proof of concept prototype of the Dragon-Blooded that remained in Creation and woke up as a result of shadowland incursions and desperate refugees accidentally hitting a ‘You Got The Touch’ button. She’s a perfect Champion and arguably shaping up to be a leader of the Circle as a whole, assuming they don’t just decide things at random. She’s especially clueless as to the political realities of the Age of Sorrows as all she has to run on are the vague memories of her past lives, which are all firmly remembering the Dragon Kings running the show and she’s a bit concerned how things seem kind of... more screwed up than she might have liked. She’s otherwise an ideal heroine, though just as goofy and weird as the rest of the crew, and a highly versatile wunderkind. She’s basically a cute robot mom version of Optimus Prime, though she’s got a ways to go before she can go all giant robot. (using Transhuman Manifold Implants for the size increase Alchemicals can get isn’t quite the same.)

Dragon King sleeper of the Anklok breed, arguably the most experienced of the bunch though what remains of his conscious recollection suggests that he was something of a laid-back sage before he went to sleep. He’s honestly not sure; something went extremely wrong with the chamber holding him in stasis, and a lot of his previous skills, memory and abilities have been severely damaged. They’re still there, just... locked away, only gradually coming back. The languages he DOES speak are either lost or scholarly curiousities, leaving him having a very difficult time communicating with anyone, but he’s nonetheless managed to amass a bunch of followers and he feels obligated to look after them, and he’s managed to pick up a Solar Eclipse ally despite his gentle hints that she should go back and be a proper heroine to her city-state rather than trying to be his disciple. Leaning towards being a bit of a crafter with an atypical interest in the Solid Earth, Growing Wood and Shaping Wood paths, which are being narratively justified as him gradually remembering the Paths he DID study in his old life. (The current assumption is that he was a very serious scholar and savant, and will in turn teach the interested members of the Circle the basics of artifact creation and manse building later on.) He’s basically Spear from Primal as a dinosaur-man, to the extend of inevitably going to get a white jade/adamant spear as a gift once the circle gets powerful enough to feasibly make something like that.

(Every single one of them has at least one cat familiar, regardless of how little sense it makes. Some of them are air elementals that take on cat form, others are regular cats that have been gradually mutated, and others are perfectly ordinary cats. but this is a Circle of weirdos who have cats. And one of them that IS a cat. Possibly. Depending on how you look at it. Ironically its neither of the two Lunars.)

[stephenjaymorrisblog]

2022

A Nothing Year

Stephen Jay Morris

12/24/2022

Scientific Morality©

Let’s see, what happened in the news this year? The Queen of England died. How old was she? 97 years old. Queen Elizabeth was around longer than I have been. That’s life! Oh, yeah. Russia invaded Ukraine. Another war! How unoriginal is that?! NASA sent a rocket and crew to circle the moon. Didn’t we do that in 1968? Kanye West spewed Anti-Semitic rhetoric. So did Farrakhan back in February 2018. The political Right in the USA wanted to install a Fascist regime. That almost happened during the FDR administration. Don’t believe me? Click here: Business Plot – Wikipedia. Then, there was the Covid pandemic. Still. That has shown me that a minority of Americans are, and always will be, in denial. Well, if you ask me, just let them suffer the consequences! What’s so tragically funny, however, is that their egos misled them to into this sort of bravado. It’s not because they are strong and tough but, in truth, they are just too indolent to put on a mask or click on a safety belt! “Fake patriots?” We got plenty o’ them, here in America! Other Americans in denial are Conservatives who say that racism no longer exists in the USA. Yeah, right! “We are the greatest county in the world!” Does that mean we are better than Israel? They’ve got Gay rights and affordable medicine. So on and so forth, ad nauseam!

My point is, nothing is new under the sun. America is not the best nation in the multiverse. Please don’t dole out the old ultimatum of love it or leave it! You know how much a passport costs? My passport expired over five years ago. It cost me 400 bucks! God knows how much it costs now! Well, I’ve got a slogan for you: “Woke America! Love it or leave it!”

America is great in one way: the way of making money here. You can make tons money by attacking your own people! Just sign up at some Conservative think tank. If you are Jewish, you attack Hollywood. If you are Black, you attack NBA fans. If you’re a pedophile, you accuse non-pedo’s of being child molesters. Man! I miss the days when the Conservatives accused everybody of being Communists! Now, they can’t think of any other insults, so they accuse their opponents of pedophilia.

How about Bitcoin? Do you remember the board game, “Monopoly?” Hasbro, the company who produced it, included fake money! Now, fake money is worth more than the Irish sweepstakes and Bitcoin is worth more than Confederate cash! It’s the 1970’s pyramid scheme all over again.

One good thing about 2022 is that MLB manager, Dusty Baker, won his first World Series Championship Ring at the age of 72! Too bad his team happened to be the Houston Astros.

So, how was 2022 for me? I had fun on the Internet. My health issues ranged from a lower abdominal hernia to chronic constipation. Every day, there’s something wrong with me! I always worry about having a second heart attack. Otherwise, I feel OK. We are experiencing a cold snap, here in the Catskills. Last night it hit bottom at minus 1 degree! Our upstairs toilet froze up. I hate that!

Our cats are 17½ years old! Both of them have kidney disease, however they are hanging in there. Nicky weighs less than 7 pounds! He vomits his breakfast sometimes. Out other cat, Sammy, has a slight heart murmur. He cares mainly about sleeping and eating. They are both very sweet.

One more, thing. If I were a betting man, I’d bet Trump will never see the inside of a jail. Too bad Trump wasn’t a Black man who was caught stealing bread for his starving family. If that were the case, he’d get the death penalty! Just remember, only the good die young. Trump will live to a ripe old age. Why? Don’t be stupid!

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year!

[kindtobechurlish]

I see kikes and I engage them, and because a Kike is polite I’m to like them? I don’t like how Kikes celebrate Hanukkah and the typical white doesn’t know the first thing about it - as kikes are all in your church calling themselves Christian - but if you say marry Christmas to a Kike who is orthodox they know the story and say it back. “Marry Christmas.” JUDEO-CHRISTIAN VALUES. Fuck that white man, and fuck that Kike. Why can I not see the proviso according to negro, and do something? Why must a woman be before me, and when the woman is before me it forces me to get with a woman not my race? Why can’t I have my senablement, and get the cream of the crop according to my race - and I engage the one state solution? Money talks, and in the fact I don’t want to be around that negro who doesn’t care about history. All I need from that cracker is a nod, and it isn’t I’m right but rather it’s the enablement of opium. Because people are oppressors, they deny equality, and they put some woman before me - therefore I call on my God to curse them. Consider my actions, oh God, how I have served you, how I sought your wisdom just to love correction. Look how they treat me, just to walk with a false pretense - with nerve to act like crucifixion is wicked.

Equal is having the ability or resources to meet a challenge. Fredrick Douglass made negroes equal as a spokesperson, he heard the “cornerstone speech” of Alexander H Stephens, and was a voice.. he mocked his former slave master, and called Blacks to pick up arms. In his call, by the end of the civil war there were just as many blacks in the union army as there were whites in the confederacy. Alexander H. Stephens denied the said content of the cornerstone speech, just to make things about tariff and the centralized government needing not to intervene with states rights. The “lost cause” was about making the succession of Confederate States bigger than slavery. Now, you see a cornerstone that was not built upon, the abolishment of slavery came, and I’m here speaking to you. I would have my God, the God of Jeshurun, and proof in the pudding is the black spending power just to own nothing. Fact? “But Black homeownership, at 43.4%, remains lower than it was a decade ago. And it is nearly 30 percentage points behind the White homeownership rate of 72.1%.”

What does 30 percent expose? “African Americans, despite making up 13 percent of the population, own less than 1 percent of rural land in the country. The combined value of this land: $ 14 billion. White Americans, by comparison, own more than 98 percent of U.S. land amounting to 856 million acres with a total worth of over $1 trillion.” 2016, inequality dot org.

You see the fact, and you see why they oppress me. I talk about equality, and they are drifting assholed who don’t want “the people”, or in other sayings, “the colored population”, to know about me. A devout person, EVEN IF HE IS NOT VERY INTELLIGENT, is better off than the cleverest of sinners. You don’t want me to use the cornerstone of the confederacy, hear it, and I use it by showing science of Sirach. You see people who legit are not equal, they need a spokesperson to show they have the ability or resources to meet a challenge, and I did everything to apply the science of Old Bed and get the resources. In fear would people worship the God of Jeshurun, and I can make it happen because blacks own 1% of the rural land and their homeownership is behind the white race by 30%! That’s not equality! I did the necessary so I can make equality in one state as the premise of back to Africa is, and you see I’m oppressed. Fuck these “leaders” and representatives.” When I heard of Putin falling down his steps and he soiled himself, I didn’t laugh or celebrate.. lord, continue ABUSE!

[monachofworms]

So my friend is a massive twilight fan so we watched all the movies in one sitting. We started at 1:30pm and ended at 1:20 Am-ish.

Here are my notes.

1. Edward being read as neurodivergent suddenly makes his mannerisms make sense

2. Edward and Bella are actually perfect for each other bc they’re the same kind of weird overly co dependent and dramatic. They are the same flavor of mentally ill where they would be terrible for anyone else but they feed into each other and it weirdly works bc they’re both kinda terrible

3. Good disabled rep ??

4. Bella’s friend Jessica and her dad Charlie hold all the brain cells

5. WEIRDLY GOOD FIGHT SCENES

6. JESUS CHRIST WHY DOSE THE BABY LOOK LIKE THAT

7. Jacob was ok at first then turned into a temper tantrum baby who made he doesn’t get what he wants.

8. The glittering in the sun isn’t as bad as people make it out to be. Cringe is dead live ur shiny vampire life

9. Charlie deserves better

10. The sex scenes weren’t great but that could just be me.

11. EDWARD. SHE CAN DO WHAT SHE WANTS FUCK OFF

12. Edward please bang ur new wife you where literally the only one upset about the bruises

13. Pregnancy plot lines in romances still make me go hhhhhhhhh

14. The first movie was arguably the best but looked the worst visually. Everyone was so pail Bella might as well already been a vampire.

15. Emmet is best Cullen

16. making jasper a confederate soldier sure was a choice that was made. Stephanie he never saw combat. You could have just made him a cowboy and the visuals would have been the same.

17. The Voltaire are legit good villains acting wise

18. Renesmee is not that bad of a name

More points I have

19. Alice should be bi

20. The wolf cgi was solid

21. OH GOD WTF WAS THE BIRTH SCENE WHYYYYYYYY. TERRIBLE.

22. Charlie is the best character

23. BELLA BE NICER TO UR DAD. IT TAKES LIKE THREE (4?) MOVIES TO GET AN “I love you dad” OUT OF YOU YOU CLEARLY CARE ABOUT HIM

24. If the weird “I would die for you” thing had been turned down the romance would have been better.

25. My partner said Edward suffers from meyers Mormonism/ Mormonism type beliefs and their right.

26. the pregnancy stuff only cemented how much I don’t understand why people get pregnant. Maybe it’s a non binary thing.

PSA: The Quileute Tribe are a real group of native people living in La Push, Washington. Meyers did 100% appropriate their culture and name. My friend and I took a moment to recognize that before watching.

https://quileutenation.org/

https://americanindiansinchildrensliterature.blogspot.com/2009/07/quileute-response-to-twilight.html?m=1

https://www.burkemuseum.org/static/truth_vs_twilight/

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What about Twilight--the books--have you most enjoyed? And what do you continue to enjoy years after you first read them? What were some things you'd now denied, criticized, or wish was differently handled or removed altogether? Even though you are a canon-queen.

A canon-queen, alright, I accept that.

First, things I most enjoyed, I'm going to shamelessly steal from @therealvinelle here as my answer would be identical. Midnight Sun all the way, baby.

Otherwise, I guess in general I enjoy the utter ridiculousness of it all. You just have these absurdly horrifying situations where Esme says something that belongs in a different book, Edward says something... Full Edward, and everyone else is just trying to convince themselves they live in a sane reality.

How can you say no to a series where Rosalie opens her heart out to Bella and Bella's response is "K Thnx, cool story bro, still becoming a vampire." Just, Twilight should be an iconic and hilarious television show.

Do I still continue to enjoy this? Oh yes. It's why I'm still here. Though I'll admit that I probably don't enjoy them the way I'm meant to.

What are things I wish had been removed/changed?

Jasper's backstory, it was completely unnecessary that he was a Confederate soldier (good god, Meyer, you gave us only a single line on that nuclear bomb you dropped) and frankly he didn't even have to be a white dude. It'd be nice to get a little diversity in the Cullens and he could have very easily been Hispanic or else even from feudal Japan (which is often compared to America's wild west/you'll see westerns and films about feudal Japan trading plots back and forth all the time for this reason).

Imprinting. I would axe imprinting completely. Just... why? Why does it exist? At all. In any form. And holy god the marrying off of toddlers. Why? Given this, I'd write out Jacob after Eclipse. He says goodbye to human Bella and Bella has to live with knowing that she gave up Jacob and her human life for Edward. There was a sacrifice to be made she did not wish to acknowledge.

Diversity in the Cullens. This one's tricky because so many of the backstories/actions throughout the series... make it very politically incorrect if that character were to be made POC. Nonetheless, it'd be nice to see someone not white/American among the Cullens. The closest we get is Carlisle who at least is European. Though I suppose there is a certain, terrible, charm in how American the Cullens are... but it wasn't what Meyer intended I think which is the vein this is being asked in.

But that's about it. For me, Meyer didn't write the series she intended, but I love every disastrous, terrible, twist and turn of it. Twilight is a world of brutal warfare and despair built on tragic misunderstandings and the very fates working against you. I wouldn't have it any other way.

[yelenayena]

Love Game part 3

Pairing: Yelena x fem!reader

Genre: Lemon, non!AU

A/N: This is my very first fanfic. Sorry if it's bad, but I hope you like and enjoy reading this story! The period in this story is when the Yeagerists began their mission to create the “New Eldian Empire”. I'm poor at grammar, and this is the first story I have written in English, so I’m sorry if they're a lot of mistakes I made in my writing. Feel free to give me some advice in English so I can learn and write better in the future 💜

Summary: You live in the same house as Yelena in Paradis as a maid. You adore Yelena, but you thought she wasn't attracted to you at all. The day after she talked with Pixis on the balcony, she eventually talks to you and tries to tease you.

Warning: Smut, +18, explicit content!!

She kissed your lips so gently. Her arms on your waist pull your body so close to hers, no more boundaries between you and her. The thrill of her kiss running up your skin was electrifying. You want to stop her, but your body tells a different story. It feels like you've been so thirsty for her touches for a whole time. Moments later, her arms all over your back. Then she kissed you passionately, her tongue is in your mouth now, moving wildly to play with yours.

At this moment you feel that the world around you vanishes away, only you and her. You want her back, you want her so badly. But a thought hit your head, you regained consciousness. Realizing that this should never have happened between you and her, there shouldn't be unnecessary physical touch.

You pulled back your body to stop her, “this is wrong, we ought not to kiss!” you said with a firm voice.

“Uh-huh, and then?”

You stepped back on your leg to keep your distance from her. “Don’t ever kiss me again!”

She curtsied and bent her face close to yours, “but you liked that, and you kissed me back,” she said. Her right arm touched your lower lip and teased it with a naughty touch.

You don't know what to say, because she was right, and the way she teased your lower lip is so intoxicating. You looked into her eyes, her pupils dilated, you can see a strong desire within her. She looked at you so lustful.

“Let me get this clear,” she continued. “I want you and don’t you ever dare to say no because I hate being rejected. Let’s move to the next level, I promise you'll love it, and we’ll be having so much fun!” Her right arm traced your chin, neck, and stopped at your left breast. She then put her lips against your ear, “tonight you look so beautiful with that nightdress, and I can't hold myself anymore,” she hoarsely whispered.

Her powerful and strong voice makes you do nothing but obey. “Now, go upstairs and get to sleep. It’s already late, I’ll clean the glasses for you.” She placed her arms on your shoulder to lead you out of the kitchen. And you just obey like her cutie puppy.

The next morning, Yelena saw you watering the potted plants around the backyard. “Hey, cutie, you slept well last night?” she said in an enticing tone.

You glanced at her, “funny you acted so friendly recently. Don’t get me wrong, but I don't think I’ll accept your stupid game.”

She stepped closer to you, “yes you will. As I said last night, I hate being rejected. So I’m gonna make you say my name when you get high. Just be ready today.”

She saw two soldiers walking towards your position. She cleared her throat, “so I wanna have some tea and please take them to my room by evening,” she said loudly with a different tone.

You realized she was trying to fool those soldiers, then she left you there. You glanced and followed her movement, she’s talking to the two soldiers. They seemed to have a serious conversation with her. You want to know what they are talking about, but you can't hear anything from the place you were standing.

As she promised, she left you no choice but to bring the tea set to her room. Once you entered her room, she locked the door and grabbed your hand quickly, and hugged you tightly. She kissed you more passionately than last night.

“Yelena-” you try to speak, “I told you we can't do this.”

“Yes we can, I know that you want me too, your face can tell me that,” she said during a kiss.

The more you try so hard to refuse, the more she holds your body so tight. She took off every one of your clothes until there nothing left. She touches you more and more, inch by inch. Yet, your sense of logic continues in a detached way with your desire, and you almost give up to satisfy your physical craving.

When she places you on the bed, you try to unbutton her shirt, she helps you take off her shirt and pants until you two get naked. That dusk, you ended up letting your lust control your body and let her touch you more deeply.

After that crazy moment in her room, you can't pretend that you don't need her anymore. You always let her touch your body every time she wants if there's a chance. In the library, in the bathroom, in the fulfillment warehouse, everywhere in that house is a place for both of you to have sex. You love the way she touches you. It always makes you want her more, more wild, more lust, more touch.

“Y- yelena-” you moaned as you felt her long fingers inside your cunt moving in and out faster.

“Yes, beauty? Gonna cum already?” she asked seductively.

You say nothing but moan her name again as you get high and release your warm fluid all over her finger. Tonight you ended up fuck with her in your room.

“Damn! I'm gonna miss this,” she said and started to suck her fingers in her mouth.

You frown at your face, “what do you mean ‘gonna’?”

She smiled at you, “nothing,” and gave her finger to your mouth then you licked hers sensually.

“Oh god, you look so fucking beautiful when you do that with hair falling loose down on the bed,” she played with the ends of your fine hair with another hand. You don't know why, but the way she seduces you with her dirty mouth gives you a delightful sensation. You never mind being a slut for her.

She kissed your lips and whispered, “Give me another, my princess. Let’s do scissoring!”

That night, you fucked with her for hours and this is the longest sex in a week. You try as many positions as you can until you two get dried, ‘till the clock says three in the morning.

The next day, when you go to town to buy groceries. You met Yelena there. You felt confused about why she can get in town while she’s in protective custody.

“I can’t believe we meet here,” she greeted you then she brought you to the alley nearby.

“Yelena, how can you get here?” you asked.

“There’s no time to explain, but I’m glad I met you here. Listen, the situation will not be the same. There will be an agitation around here. I need you to protect yourself if you need to, bring your parents to stay away from town. And I’ll blot out your punishment,” in the last sentence, she lowered down her voice and looked into your eyes softly. “You sure you never drink wine in the kitchen?”

“No, I don't! I told you I don't like liquors,” you answered convincingly. “Agitation? Punishment? What do you mean?”

She smiled, “I know you've been undercover to be a servant for months. You're a former Anti-Personnel Control Squad member that survived the Reiss family tragedy. And thanks to you, you revealed to Dot Pixis that I'd met with Eren before he invaded Marley. That's why I gave you a punishment to force you fucked with me.”

You dropped your groceries in shock, you never realized that she knows everything. Her smiles turned into a wider one as your reaction gave her much satisfaction.

“Floch tells me everything about you. You're no longer working with the government, but they still can find your record.” She stepped closer to you, “you're lucky I fuckin’ like you, sweetie.” She kissed your cheek and touched your head, “take care of yourself. Goodbye,” and she stepped out to join her confederates. Left you there, alone.

Your heart sank when she said goodbye, as you get the feeling you will never see her again.

When you came to that house, the situation was already chaotic, you found blood and dead bodies of the soldiers everywhere. So this is how she can run away from this house. You walked to her room, you still can smell her scent there, and it makes you feel in a sad set of affairs.

There’s a book on the desk, you stepped closer and opened the book. Your eyes widen as you see something inside the book. Now you know how she can keep in touch with her confederate, she used the book to take and give the information about the current situation in government. You hold the book so tight until your fingers get pale. You feel so defeated she can fool you around, and it all because of your stupid feelings.

You looked out the window with irony and said, “silly me I like you too. Please don't get yourself killed.”

Fun Facts:

She really into you, she can't think straight when you're around her.

I think she's a dominant type, and finally, you can make her half-naked and you take control of her (you can take a look at the first picture 😉).

Yes, you were the former of The Military Police Regiment who joined Anti-Personnel Control Squad leads by Kenny Ackerman.

I think Yelena was really upset about her incarceration and the other member of Anti-Marley Volunteers in various places, after what she did to Paradis. Although the government of Paradis was kind enough to put them in a decent house, she was still upset (this is my speculation for my writing purpose only).

Yelena had been watching you since the first day she stayed in that house. For her, you’re the best thing that Pixis had given to her. She could stick it out in that house because of you.

There are a lot of the Yeagerist’s sympathizers in that house, so, she still can communicate with Floch and her comrades easily. That’s why she knows about your little secret.

No, Yelena didn't kill the military soldiers in that house, but the Yeagerists did (this is only my hc). I think she respects the Eldians sm because Zeke is an Endian.

THIS IS IT! I hope you like my story ;)

Have a good day! ✨

PREVIOUS

[holycatsandrabbits]

Tollense, an original serial romance by Dannye Chase, Chapter 1

A history professor falls in love with his best friend, a 3000-year-old vampire.

READ FROM THE BEGINNING: You are here!

NEXT

Chapter 1

1993

Professor Liam Beyer was born a decade after the deaths of the last soldiers to fight in the US Civil War. Thus, he was not expecting to meet a Union Army veteran in his 4 o’clock symposium on the Battle of Antietam.

Liam noticed the man as soon as he walked in, and not just because it was odd for a member of the public to show up for a faculty lecture at the university. No, the man caught Liam’s attention because he was distractingly handsome. Literally, Liam was distracted enough to drop his pen onto the overhead projector, causing a giant shadow to loom over the map of Maryland on the screen behind him, as if a third army had materialized there in a dense offensive line.

The man was of average height, with a slender build. He had dark hair in a short, modern cut and wore a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with a faded label. He looked like he might be thirty, which was about the age Liam was, and so Liam did not immediately assume that the man had seen action in the Civil War. But there was something faintly strange about him, just in the way that he walked, light on his feet like a dancer, but stepping firmly, without a dancer’s well-practiced grace.

“General Lee,” Liam continued, in a slightly strangled voice, “of the Confederate Army, was, of course, outnumbered, but the battle was Union General McClellan’s to lose. Had he understood how superior his force was, had he taken more risks, he might have been able to deal a decisive blow to Lee’s army as it retreated. In fact, McClellan’s performance at Antietam was part of the reason that President Lincoln later removed him from duty.”

Liam put up a transparency of a white church with peeling paint, standing alone on a grassy rise. “On September 17, 1862, 7,650 soldiers died at Antietam, making it the bloodiest day for Americans in history. Two days later, a man named Alexander Gardner took some of the first widely-seen battlefield photographs of dead soldiers. Some were awaiting burial, and some were still lying where they fell. It was very difficult at the time to take photographs of battles themselves, as the technology involved careful treatment of glass negatives, and that was nearly impossible under battlefield conditions. But the dead do not move, and these photographs were so clear that when displayed in New York, family members recognized their fallen sons.”

Liam put up a transparency of one of Gardner’s photographs, young men lying on the ground in an oddly perfect line. The unknown man looked away.

oOo

Liam had grading to do after his symposium, but he walked to the campus union to grab a sandwich first. He was definitely not expecting Handsome Unknown Lecture Man to appear out of the crowd and drop into the seat opposite him. Liam was very proud that he did not choke on his bite of ham and swiss.

“I hope you don’t mind,” said the man. “I enjoyed your lecture. My name is Kurt.”

Liam put his hand out to shake. Kurt’s touch was faintly cold. “Liam,” he said.

Kurt cocked his head slightly to the side, as if assessing him. “I know. Liam Beyer, 27, assistant professor of history, specializing in battles. Is Antietam your favorite?”

“Um— one of them. I did my dissertation on it. On McClellan, specifically.” Liam felt slightly odd about the fact that this stranger knew who he was, but of course, it was all publicly accessible information. “Are you a Civil War buff?”

“Somewhat.” Kurt leaned back in his chair. “Antietam, god. I remember Bloody Lane— that’s what they called it after. The road was sunken in because so many wagons had gone by over the years. It was like trying to fight your way out of your own grave trench.” Kurt spoke with a faint accent that Liam could not place, something that seemed to shift from one place to another.

“You talk like you were there,” Liam said, smiling. “Are you a reenactor?”

Kurt gave a sharp laugh. “No. You?”

“I’ve been a technical advisor. It’s nice to meet other people who share my strange obsession.”

“Those pictures you showed,” Kurt said. “Photography is such a bewitching art. Those boys are long gone, but remain ever present in death.”

“You know, the war helped make Spiritualism popular,” Liam said. “It was so hard on the families back home to lose contact with their soldiers, not knowing what happened to them, or when, or where. They couldn’t bear it, and turned to mediums.”

Kurt smiled, and it made his bright green eyes sparkle with amusement. “Have you ever been to a seance?” he asked. Liam shook his head. “Most I’ve been to were quite boring,” Kurt said. “But every once in awhile—”

“That sounds like a good story.”

“I’ll tell you sometime.” Liam’s brain was already far too occupied with how attractive he found this poor man, and that was probably why the sentence sounded more like a salacious promise than it really was.

“So what do you do?” Liam asked faintly, crumpling his empty sandwich wrapper. “Are you a student?”

“Not at the moment. Just a fan of history. Of battles, actually.” Kurt leaned forward a little. “Liam, would you mind if I came to your office tomorrow to talk more? I have some questions and I think you might be the one to help me answer them.”

“I— of course.” Liam told himself that he agreed solely because he liked to talk about history with people, and that it didn’t matter whether or not said people were ridiculously attractive.

Kurt smiled at him again. “Until tomorrow then.”

On his way out of the dining hall, Liam was stopped by a student with a question about an assignment on Gettysburg. “I didn’t want to interrupt your dinner,” she said.

“Oh, it would have been fine,” Liam told her. “We were talking about the Civil War ourselves.”

The student gave him a confused look. “Dr. Beyer— weren’t you eating alone?”

oOo

In the end, Liam decided that as he’d never dreamed up a handsome man in quite so much detail before, that the student had been mistaken and simply had not noticed Kurt’s presence at Liam’s table.

And yet. There really was something very strange about the man. Liam couldn’t quite pin it down, just that there was a disconnect between what Liam was seeing and what he was feeling about him. For example, Kurt appeared to be thirty, but Liam would swear he was older. Kurt had looked perfectly natural at dinner, but it had also seemed like he didn’t quite fit in with his surroundings. Like if you’d taken a photograph of him at the table, he would have been slightly too bright, out of focus, or without a shadow.

Kurt’s knock on Liam’s office door finally came around eleven, and Liam was, he realized, far too happy to see him again. At first, nothing about the visit seemed terribly odd. They discussed Antietam again, then traveled forward to the Somme, and then much farther back, Megiddo and Kadesh. Kurt seemed to know less about those battles, Liam noted, but he was quite familiar with things taking place after Thermopylae in the 5th century BC.

It was easy to talk to Kurt, especially about interests they had in common, and as the conversation went on, Kurt seemed to relax a bit, which made Liam do the same. The day before, Liam had thought Kurt moved without grace, but that wasn’t exactly right. Kurt had a different kind of grace, a fluidity of small movements instead of large ones, an artistry shown in the fluttering of fingers while the rest of the man kept entirely still. The emphasis on such small motions seemed to draw Liam in, narrowing his focus away from his surroundings and onto his visitor. But at the same time, Kurt had such an air of other about him, that it was almost like Liam was looking at him through beveled glass, never quite getting the whole image at once.

However, Liam’s sense of ease around Kurt vanished entirely when another student knocked on Liam’s door with a question about an assignment. That in itself was perfectly normal, but during the whole time that the student was in Liam’s office, she didn’t speak to Kurt or apologize for interrupting their conversation. She didn’t give a single look to the chair that Kurt occupied beside Liam’s desk.

When the student had left, Liam leaned back in his chair, trying to fake the calmness that he no longer felt. “All right,” he said, watching his visitor carefully. “You want to tell me why I’m the only person who can see you?”

********

READ FROM THE BEGINNING: You are here!

NEXT

Updates Fridays on Ao3 and DannyeChase.com (rated E), and Tumblr (rated T)

Want to create fic, art, or other works based on this series? Please do! Just dm or tag me.

My previous serials are for Good Omens: Mr. Fell's Bookshop and Love's Endless Light

My Carrd

[kaetiesmindpalace]

Safe and Sound -- A Destination Fear One Shot (Alex Schroeder/Reader)

Requested by @kattherebel       

      The road trip was drawing up on its midway point with excitement turning somewhat towards exhaustion. Today’s location was Tanner’s pick: Gettysburg Battlefield in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. So far, this is the first location not in a building that Destination Fear has investigated.

       Even though this was your first road trip, you generally knew what to expect at locations: everyone gets there, the equipment is set up, they investigate the building either in small groups or all together, sometimes there are solos, and then it is time for bed. It is the outside forces that were scaring you this time with the change from the norm. What if other people just strolled up on all of you? What if a wild animal decided to attack? What if…

       Your worrying thoughts halted when you felt someone rubbing your back. You turn and notice that it is your boyfriend Alex comforting you, him being able to tell that you were worrying with just a glance. You smile at him and whisper a “thanks” before he pulls you into his side. You stayed there relishing in the comfort while Dakota and Chelsea took the front to get a first glance at the battlefield.

       Chelsea gasps, “Dude, this field is enormous,” which draws your gaze to the front window. She was not wrong; this place was huge and no real walls enclosing it. Anyone or anything could get in and out with ease.

       Once the RV stopped; everyone got out; and equipment was set up, it was time to start the investigation. Tanner decided to start everyone off together and head towards some of the cannons where witnesses have seen full-bodied apparitions of soldiers. The group bantered like normal as they walked to their destination. Once there, the focus turned toward the proverbial leader of the group, Dakota.

       “Okay, I’m going to start rolling on this digital recorder and see if we get anything,” Dakota says before hitting the record button.

       “What is your name? How did you die?” Dakota asks, giving some space in between questions.

       “Were you a part of the Union or the Confederate?” you pipe in.

       “Why are you still here?” Tanner asks before Dakota stops the recording.

       “Alright, I’m going to play this back to see if we caught anything,” Dakota says directly into the camera.

       Before he could press the play button, the five of you heard what sounded like a group talking from somewhere on the grounds.

       “What the hell was that?” Chelsea questions, her voice trying to sound steady instead of showing the slight fear she had.

       “I have no idea,” Tanner replies, a shocked look on his face.

       “Any ideas where the noise came from?” you question, trying to shine your small flashlight in a correct direction.

       “I think…” Alex starts to respond before getting cut off from the same voices you heard a few moments ago, this time even closer.

       Everyone’s eyes widen a bit in shock.

       “I think the voices came that way,” Dakota says while pointing off into the dark distance and ready to take steps in the direction of the sounds.

       “Are you crazy? That sounds like actual people here!” Chelsea exclaims.

       Yet again, the five of you heard whatever was talking from before. This time, it sounded way too close for comfort. Instinctively, Alex puts his free arm and hand out and pushes you behind him. He was ready to protect you at all costs. Finally being able to pinpoint where the sounds were coming from, those with flashlights in hand turned them the same direction.

       What you all saw shocked you a bit. Last time something liked this happened, it was ghosts seeming to yell. This time, it was actual people. A group of five were walking around chatting with one another. One had a camera in hand while the rest had their phones, bags, and was that an Ovilus? This group was doing exactly what you, Alex, Chelsea, Tanner, and Dakota were essentially doing: ghost hunting. The groups were even the same size! They seem too enthralled in their conversations with one another to realize they were not the only people here trying to investigate.

       “Hey!” Alex shouts out, keeping you slightly behind him still as a precaution.

       That finally got the other group’s attention, causing them to jump a little. The other group looks towards you guys with a perplexed look.

       “Are you guys here to ghost hunt too?” their proverbial leader, a woman in her early to mid-twenties, asks.

       “Uh, yeah. We’re here filming for our TV show,” Dakota replies.

       Seeing as you were in no imminent danger, Alex brings his arm that was keeping you safe from the potential threats forward, allowing you to step forward and take a better look at the group. The other group appeared to be almost an inverse of yours. Seems like the paranormal just attracts similar people.

       “Oh my god, we’re interrupting, aren’t we?” another one of their members questions.

       “Maybe a little,” Chelsea responds, “but it’s all good. We can take opposite corners of this massive place to try to not interfere with one another. We wouldn’t want to interrupt you guys either.”

       Your guess was that this group were not from around Gettysburg, therefore they had not gotten the memo of not coming to the battlefield for this specific night due to filming. Neither group wanted to get in the way of one another, so the other group nodded and headed more towards the direction they came from.

       “Sometimes, what we are hearing is paranormal, and sometimes it can be explained” Tanner proclaims.

       “And this is one of those instances where there was a non-paranormal explanation,” Chelsea states.

       With that, your group turned back to investigating the area with the cannons and finally playing back the recorder. There did end up being a response to one of the questions, but through the device it sounded unintelligible. It would take some boosting later to see if you guys can understand what was being said. Tanner later decided to split into two groups: one being Tanner, Chelsea, and Dakota, the other being you and Alex. After leaving the others, you turn to address what happen earlier.

       “Don’t act like I didn’t notice you going all ‘knight and shining armor’ on me when the then unexplained noises were happening,” you state.

       Alex blushes a bit before responding, “Well, I wanted to make sure you were safe. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

       “You’re too sweet. Thank you for looking out for me,” you say while bumping into his side a bit.

       “It’s not a problem,” he replies before pulling you in to give you a kiss on the cheek.

       The rest of the night went without a hitch. The others from your group got a few more EVPs while Alex and you got a couple of words on the Ovilus. Sleeping arrangements were a bit different to not interfere with the others investigating the battlefield, but still was eventful with unexplained noises. Sadly, no full-bodied apparitions were caught by you guys, but hopefully the other group were able to catch some great evidence.

       After disassembling equipment and packing up the RV, you sat next to Alex with a smile on your face, knowing that you found someone who will step into possible harm’s way to keep you safe. You found a keeper, and there was no way you were letting him go.

[thedemisedroyal]

Dangerous Betrayal | TVD/TO

The Vampire Diaries & The Originals

AU Story

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓

𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝙾𝙽 𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚂𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽!

• A U T H O R •

Elena felt very uncomfortable as Caroline walked away with Stefan on her arm, walking to the outside of the mansion to go dance. "I wanna apologize to you for being such a world-class jerk, the other night when I tried to kiss your sister. No doubt she didn't tell you, I wanted to apologize because I know I insulted you as well. I would have apologized to your sister but I can't seem to find her." Damon started off sincere, a glum look upon his face. Elena nodded, she was on guard a bit,"Yeah, she's back at the house. Jenna told her she wasn't to leave until she finished cleaning her room. She might show up later on though." The eldest Gilbert simply explained, Damon nodded, looking around the room before continuing.

"My therapist says I'm..sting out, trying to punish Stefan." Damon spoke, Elena furrowed her brows in confusion. "For what? And why go for Esme?" She was immensely confused by the man,"It's all in the past. I don't even want to bring it up. Let's just say that the men in the Salvatore family have been cursed with sibling rivalry." He pointed behind him to the registry," And it all started with the original Salvatore brothers."

"The Salvatore name is practically royalty in this town, until the war, there was a battle here—" Elena interrupted,"The Battle of Willow Creek." Damon muttered a 'right', letting Elena talk for the time being. "I know, we talked about it in class. Confederate soldiers fired on a church with civilians inside." Elena boringly told, she already knew such information.

Damon nodded,"What history books left out was the people that were killed...," Damon started to walk around Elena, and more towards the door. "they weren't there by accident. The are believed to be union sympathizers. So some of the founders on the confederacy side back then wanted them rounded up and burned alive." Elena follows right behind him, crossing her arms across her chest.

The raven haired man continued on with his history lesson, "Stefan and Damon had someone they loved very much in that church. And when they went to rescue them they were shot. Murdered in cold blood." He gulped, looking Elena, finally, in the eyes, he had a look of sorrow in his eyes. The brunette narrowed her eyes at the wall, in thought,"Who was in the church that they wanted to save?" She asked, Damon slightly shrugged,"A woman, I guess. But it was said in old tells that Damon had another woman he cared about in there, said to be his old best friend of his." He stopped for a moment,"But doesn't it always come down to the love of a woman?" He rhetorically asked, slighting smirking.

Elena took a deep breath,"Look, I'm sorry that you and Stefan have this thing between you but I can't get in the middle of it, Damon. Nor Esme. I just...I hope you two can work it out." The wilder Salvatore nodded,"I hope so too." He whispered, but she was still able to hear him.

Soon, the two made their way out, but, Damon stayed back for a little while, walking back to the registry. He had a sorrowful look upon his face as his thumb softly grazed the name that was written beneath Stefans. It spelled, in a beautiful cursive, Samatha Salvatore, Damon frowned a bit, his eyes getting a bit teary,"Little sister..."

• E S M E •

"Ooh, she lookin fine." The girl muttered to herself as she fixed her lipstick and hair in her hand mirror that Esme kept in her purse. The girl did in fact, looked very beautiful, wearing a long and flowing flower dress, colored a cyan/turquoise with pink and white flowers covering around it. It had a long slit in the middle to show off her long gorgeous legs but it was still appropriate looking.

She snapped her mirror closed, and put it away, fixing her straps of her dress and continuing her very long walk to the Lockwood Mansion. Slightly wobbly as her high heels got stuck in the grass, tripping on a rock here and there. "Why the fuck did I wear these damn heels. You fucking idiot!" She scolded herself, stomping her way to the mansion instead.

As she finally made it to the busy and full house her eyes wondered across the crowds of people. Unfortunately, she saw none of her friends nor family, so the brunette went to go explore the 'museum'. Jordan had felt this magnetic pull towards upstairs, so out of her instinct, she followed it.

Walking up the stairs to see the second floor was completely abandoned, not a single soul was up there. She then entered a room that held all the founder families's old things, like necklaces, journals, rings and more. The younger twin walked to the side that held the name Gilbert, but she ignored it as she was pulled to a black velvet box, something the girl didn't recognized.

Jordan picked it up, opening it to see a black and red ring. It was a pure black steel band, with dark blood red gems decorating it around the band. In the middle was a circle shaped, dark blood red gem in the middle, designed beautifully.

She took the ring out and placed the black velvet box back into the table. Her pointer finger slightly grazing across the detailed band, and final stopping at the big gem in the middle. Images flashing in her mind, first was a man, curly, dirty blonde hair, but his back was facing her, his hand folded behind his back. The next one was her mother, but her actual mother, the Firstbeing Queen, she had a sadistic smile upon her face, so similar to her own. Then finally, it was her, her eyes were completely black, with dark blood red patterned veins running down beneath her eyes, with hints of black.

Jordan gasped a bit as she was taken back to reality, she clutched the ring, calming herself. But she felt frightened by the ring, so she quickly grabbed the black box and put the ring back. Though she couldn't put it down as she heard someone coming her way, it sounded like Caroline and...Damon?

The Gilbert couldn't exactly tell what they were talking about, before she could think the two already made their way into the room. The girl swiftly turned around, hiding the box behind her back,"Oh hey Esme! Where have you been!" Caroline bubbly asked, Damon sent a soft smile towards the girl. Esme forced a smile,"Hey Care-Bear, sorry I'm late. I had to clean my room because Jenna told me I couldn't leave the house unless I did." Esme spoke happily, moving her hand to her purses back pocket, stuffing the box inside the pocket. It may have terrified her but maybe it had answers she so desperately needed.

***

Esme rubbed her sisters back, trying to show her support as Elena was glum after her fight with Stefan. The two made their way to the bathroom to freshen up. "Hey." Elena and Caroline spoke to each other, but Caroline and Esme sent each other a genuine smile through the mirror.

Elena made her way for the mirror to touch up her makeup, but Esme went to the side to fix the straps on her high heels, something she kept tripping on. It was silent until the blonde spoke up,"So how are things with Stefan?" She questioned, Esme cringed a bit, knowing the fight between her sister and the younger Salvatore.

The younger twin watched her sister her a bit uncomfortable at the question, she plastered a obvious fake smile,"Great. Just great." Caroline quirked a brow,"Really? Well, my radar must be off cause...," The blonde bent down to watch her apply lipstick properly, without any smudges. " I was getting all sorts of other vibes." Elena took a big inhale, fixing her hair, but Esmes eyes were still on her best friend.

Spotting something unusual on her body,"What is that?" Esme questioned, walking towards the Forbes girl, Elena tok tied her head to the side, furrowing her brow in confusion. Caroline hummed, still applying lipstick, the. Standing up straight to face the younger daughter. Esme moved her hair, her hand going to her scarf where she saw something of of the ordinary, but Caroline pushed her hand away,"D-Don't." The blonde stuttered, making the twins even more suspicious.

Esme quickly pushed up her scarf when Caroline didn't notice, showing the two a massive bite mark on her neck,"Oh my god, Caroline! What happened." Elena asked, in fear and confusion. "Nothing, okay." Caroline defensively told, slightly backing away from twins. "That is not nothing! Did somebody hurt you?" Esme harshly spoke, already getting defensive of Caroline, someone had gruesomely hurt her.

"No, okay, it..." The Forbes paused for a moment? Skating her head,"Nothing, it just.." Esme packed up for a moment, connecting the dots,"My mom would kill me." Caroline went back to the mirror, slightly scared as she fixed her makeup again, to avoid conversation. But something caught her eye, the same thing she saw when she was fixing her shoe.

Esme pulled down Caroline knitted white jacket, showing another bite mark that looked more recent,"Did Damon hurt?" Esme asked, Elenas eyes widened,"Did Damon do this?" The elder twin asked again, Caroline slightly shook her head, pulling back up her jacket, quickly,"No! Of course not!" Caroline defended, Esme immediately went to pull back down the sweater but her arms were pushed away.

"Just leave me alone, okay, Esme? God." The Forbes yelled, that's when Esme knew this was serious. Caroline rarely ever, near impossible, that she got yelled at by the Forbes. The twins looked at the blonde in disbelief as Caroline stomped her way out of the bathroom. The twins locked eyes before Esme's face was filled with anger, and she followed Caroline's lead.

Elenas eyes widened, she knew that look of Esme's, she had that look thrown towards her before. "Esme! Stop!" She yelled after her younger sister, running after her. Though the girl paid no attention. As she walked to the outside where Damon was last seen, the lights flickering and things slightly shaking as she walked passed them.

Esme quickly walked down the steps, making her way to Damon, who was already facing towards her with a clear smirk on his face, Esme pushed him, harshly. "There is something seriously wrong with you. You stay away from Caroline or I will go straight to her mother, the sheriff. You got it? Say away from her." Esme defensively told the raven haired man, her eyes shining a neon scarlet red, but only for half a second. He quirked a brow, confusion running through his eyes. Esme walked off, rage soaring through her,"Bastard." She muttered, in the corner of her eyes she could see Elena walking away from her and towards the fountain.

***

Esme walked around the mansion for the fourth time, she couldn't find Caroline nor Damon, and she was starting to get worried. So she and Elena split up after her other altercation with Stefan, Esme searched thoroughly inside while Elena went outside. But it had been nearly twenty minutes already and she hadn't found Caroline, and she didn't see Elena anywhere. So, she made her way outside as well to find her older twin.

As she walked, she was able to see Elena holding Caroline in her arms, Esme was able to hear Caroline sob into her sisters shoulder. Elena turned around, feeling the presence of her sister, as she was right, the two locked eyes. Sending each other a saddened look, Elena then turned to lay her head against the sobbing Caroline's shoulder, trying to comfort.

Esme would have joined but her head started to ring, she turned her head a bit, holding the side of it. It stopped, but was replaced by voices, "Thank you for staying so late." A males voice, she furrowed a brow, straightening her stance as she looked around the empty grounds.

"Did you get the Gilbert watch?" A woman's voice then appeared, Esme immediately recognized it to be Sheriff Forbes, Caroline mom.

'What did they need the Gilbert watch for?' Jordan questioned in her own mind, she knew where the exact location of the watch was, with Jeremy, knowing about the fight Elena and him had about it. But she didn't see the purpose or the importance of the watch.

"She claims it's packed away in her parents things." Mrs. Lockwood, Jordan knew the bitch. She was the definition of two-faced. "I can get it." A males voice pitched in, but this time, she had no idea who he was. She didn't recognize his voice, it sounded familiar, yes. But, Jordan didn't exactly know who he was. "Good, we're gonna need it." Sheriff Forbes spoke again, there was a second of silence.

"You sure?" Mayor Lockwood questioned, with Sheriff Forbes responding,"Five bodies all drained of blood. I'm certain." Jordan felt her heart drop, they knew. "They've come back." The unknown man spoke again, Jordan felt her heart race. She has to find out what they know, and why they want that damn watch.

[slashscowboyboots]

Happy Taco Truck: Ice Cream Dreamboat (Part 1)

(all photo credit goes to owners)

I know it’s only been months, but it feels like years since I’ve shared a fic!  This is a continuation of @no-stone-no-bone​‘s awesome fic Duff’s Doughnuts (link here).  I agree with Skyler, I’d love to see other writers write about the different food trucks and make this a series.  This was supposed to be a one-shot, but as I am physically incapable of writing short fics, this is a two-parter.  Buckle in!

Tag list: @izzysdenimjacket​ @no-stone-no-bone​ @sexcoffeeandrockandroll​ @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands​ @smokeandmirrorz​ @sodalitefully​​ @roger-taylors-car​​  @harley-m-rose​ if you’d like to be tagged let me know, we all know how wonderful the tags work though

Warnings: language, sibling promiscuity, lonely cooking, terminal embarrassment, Axl and Tracii are Axl and Tracii

Thunk thunk thunk.

It was another scorcher inside your food truck, the vicious heat wafting off the griddle pummeling your face as you deftly raked your spatula through a pile of crisping beef tips, then piled them into a fluffy shell, handing it off for your sister Skyler to kiss with your award-winning cilantro lime crema and hand out to the customer.

You couldn’t resist moving up to the open side to watch the patron, a long-haired man wearing a nose chain with “Endless Burgers” stitched on his shirt, take a bite of your creation, then bend at the knees from ecstasy and dig a ten dollar bill from his pocket, stuffing it in your tip jar.

It has been gangbusters during the lunch rush in The Circle, the informal name given to the parking lot of ornery hooligans who fed the masses during the day and lingered behind late in the evening for a bit of recreational hell-raising. 

There was a plethora of culinary delights scattered around you, including Duff’s Doughnuts, Tracii and Phil’s Sno-Cones, Stoney & Cready’s Homewrecker Corndogs, and Jon and Richie’s Jersey Essentials (you never really knew what they were selling, apart from Aqua Net and the occasional cheesesteak, but after they began offering rippers-deep fried hot dogs-Skyler made frequent trips over to ask Richie if she could eat his weenie).  And from what you heard, they all knew how to throw down at night.

You never stayed to find out, though.  Your shyness forced you to fire up Helen the Happy Taco truck and drive home, leaving Skyler behind to do God-knows-what to who-knows-what, and you arrived in the mornings to find her either helping Kelly from Nickels’ BBQ feed his pink-painted porcine smoker, both of them covered in hickeys, or nearly trading blows with the loudmouth redhead who ran the ice cream truck.

Today, however, you’d found her with someone new.  When you pulled into the lot, you saw her with her arms wrapped around a guy with long hair wearing a flannel shirt and shorts, gazing raptly into his piercing blue eyes.  “Bye, Ed,” she murmured, pecking a kiss on his mouth.

“Who was that?” you asked, your eyebrows shooting skywards.

“Produce man,” she answered quickly.

“Were you getting us a good deal?’

“You know it.”

You peeled your gloves off and wiped your sweating face with a paper towel, trying to blot off as much grease as possible.  “I’m taking a break.  I need some ice cream.”

“I got you a frozen lemonade on my break.  It’s gonna taste like shit when you drink it with that ice cream.”

“I don’t care.”

“Punch that dick Axl in the face while you’re over there.  He’s on my last fucking nerve.”

You trudged down to “Axl and Izzy’s Frozen Delights,” eager to leave the brutal swelter inside your truck.  Standing in front of their window, you bent backwards and cracked your aching back, then a raspy voice asked, “Can I help you?”

You looked up into the most beautiful doe eyes you’d ever seen, hazel verging on gold in the afternoon sunlight, belonging to a guy with messy brown hair tied back with a bandanna, and suddenly your feet didn’t hurt anymore.  “Hi,” you said faintly.

“Hey,” he replied, smiling at you, and you felt your breath leave you.  “I’m Izzy, who might you be?”

“Y/N.”

“What can I get for you?”

Your brain instantly forgot how to make words.  “Cone,” you muttered.

His smile grew even bigger.  “What do you want in your cone?”

“Ice cream.”

He chuckled softly.  “What kind?”

“I don’t know.”

Those gorgeous eyes were full of merriment, crinkling at the corners.  “You don’t know?”

“No.”  Get ahold of yourself, you’re sounding like a moron.  “Uh, chocolate?”

“Sure.  I mean, as long as you’re sure about that.”  He winked at you, then turned to the freezer case behind him, and you got an exquisite view of his perfect ass, your mouth open and your breath coming in gasps, then he turned around and grinned, catching you mid-gawk, and you immediately wanted the earth to swallow you up.

“Thank you,” you blurted when he handed you your cone, then you turned to leave.  

“Uh, Y/N?”

“Uh huh?”  You couldn’t believe he was going to prolong putting up with your awkward ass.  

“Aren’t you going to pay me?”

“Oh,” you said, humiliation bringing a knot to your throat, and you handed him a crumpled pile of bills and scuttled away before you could cry.

“Sis, you mind if I head out a little early?” you asked.  “I’ve got a headache and I want to go home.”

“Sure.  I think we’re done for today.  You sure you’re okay?”

You hadn’t said a word all afternoon, just cooked and sweated and tried not to think about what a failure you were.  This was why you didn’t stick around at night, even though you longed to, to laugh and have fun with all the crazy characters around you.  Because you’d fuck it up if you did.

Why wasn’t I born normal? you thought bitterly.  Why am I the disaster in the family?

“Yeah,” you said quietly.  “I’m fine.”

That’s why your tacos were so delicious.  Because you were such a loser, you stayed home and perfected them instead of going out and having a life.  With no demands on your personal time, you discovered that lime made your chicken taco sing, while a little tomato sauce was the secret to juicier ground beef.

Your loneliness was the key to Happy Taco’s success.  

And you’d give everything you knew away just to be cool for five minutes.

“OPEN UP!!” a male voice hollered.  Bam!  Bam!  Bam!  “Little pig, little pig, let me in!”

Skyler dropped the hatch.  “Tracii!  Ferfucksakes!  We just got here!”

Tracii grinned under his bandanna.  “I wanna eat your taco.”

“It is an honor and a privilege to serve you a Happy Taco,” she answered, leaning on the counter and linking her fingers.  “However, we haven’t got anything set up and the only kind we can get you is our el pastor.”

“Okay,” he said, “gimme two,” and Skyler nodded to you.

You sliced the meat off the trompo, carefully evening out the sides, all the while reliving the embarrassment of the previous afternoon in your head.  Maybe you could drive Helen down to Baja California and start life anew, under a different name.

“Hey!” Tracii yelped, his eyes on you.  “I know you!  You’re the one Izzy was talking about last night,” and your knife nearly stabbed the metal pole holding up the pork and pineapple mass.

“Yeah,” he smiled lazily, “you are a looker, aren’t you?  How come you don’t party with us?  Izz said you seemed kinda shy.”

With your eyes wide and heart hammering, you handed the tacos to Skyler, whose mouth was hanging open in shock.

Before she could say anything, Tracii handed her his money and sauntered off, orgasmically moaning as he chewed, and Axl stepped up to the window.

“The fuck you want?” Skyler snapped.  “”It’s too early in the day for you to pick a fight, asshole.”

“I’m not here to fight,” he growled, slamming down a wad of dollars.  “This is from Izzy.  For her ice cream,” and he jutted his chin towards you.  “He says you eat for free at our truck.  The bo-both of you,”  he gritted, the agony of that idea etching deeply on his face.

“Thank you,” you smiled in surprise.

His eyes met yours, waving off your delight.  “Yeah, he’ll be down later.”

“Yes, thank you, Axl,” Skyler said.  “May we offer you an el pastor taco?”

“No,” he said, already retreating.  “Pork gives me the shits.”

Izzy did come by later, just in time for your sister to run off on her break.  

“Hi, Izzy,” you said, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Hey,” he smiled, looking delicious in his sunglasses.  “So what kind of tacos do you have?”

You recited the list.  “El pastor, carnitas, beef tips, seasoned ground beef, chicken, shrimp, and uh, lengua.”

“What’s that?”

“Uh, tongue.”

He pulled a face and stuck out his tongue, and you giggled, your shyness melting away at his goofiness.  “No, no, it’s really good.  Imagine the most tender, flavorful pot roast.  Everyone always orders seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass on the tongue, that one anyways, and have one shrimp and one chicken.  How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.  Uh, you and Axl, you eat for free here too.  Thank you, by the way, that’s very generous.”

He grinned wider, and you noticed he’d hadn’t stopped smiling at you since he showed up.  “Don’t mention it.”

You opened the shrimp and chicken containers, then threw the meat down on the griddle and moved it around, forcing yourself to focus on sauteing and not burning down the fucking truck because Izzy was outside.

He peeked in the window, looking around the interior of the truck.  “So how long have you been cooking?”

“Oh, since I was small.  I was at a stove before I could see over it.  These are all my grandmother's recipes.”  You scooped the fillings into their shells, then grabbed the crema.  

“Hey, I only ordered two,” Izzy protested when you handed him his tacos in a cardboard to-go basket.

“One of the chicken ones is Axl’s.  Consider it a peace offering.”

“Thank you.  Hey, Y/N, I was wondering if-”

“Hey, Y/N, I was wondering if I could get some fucking service around here,” a mullet-sporting, Confederate flag t-shirt wearing asshole growled, and Izzy waved, then walked away.

He returned the next day, and the next day, and the next day, and the next day, working his way through your menu and bringing you a different-flavored milkshake each time.  He loved all of the tacos he tried, even daring to sample the beef tongue, then immediately ordered another one.

“Told you,” you grinned.

He always made conversation with you while you cooked, his eyes locked on yours as he ate, but every time he finished, there was always a line to tend to, and Skyler made herself scarce as soon as she spotted him.  You never returned to his truck for ice cream, and spent your downtime cleaning the flattop, lighting out as soon as you turned over the CLOSED sign.

“You know,” your sister said to you as you turned the key in the ignition, “if you stayed, you’d probably hook up with Izzy.”

“No,” you said sadly, “I’m a hot mess.  I’d say something stupid and he’d run away.”

“Can’t talk with his tongue in your mouth,” she teased, “or some other part.”

“SKYLER!” you shrieked as she cackled, then you sighed and leaned your head against the steering wheel.  “I’m not like you.”

“You don’t have to be,” she said, leaning over and stroking your hair.  “Just give him a chance.”

“I can’t stay here and have Helen be a-a sin wagon.”

“It’s not like we have orgies!” Skyler laughed.  “At least your man doesn't.  He plays guitar and Axl sings, when he’s not being a dumbass.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  And then Izzy sings, and Kelly gives me The Look and……”

“Or the produce man shows up.”

“Or Eddie the produce man shows up.”  She gave you a slight smile.  “C’mon, Sis, stay.  He likes you.”

“He doesn’t know me.”

“Then get to know him.  Axl says he’s pining.”

You looked at her in surprise.  “When did you talk to Axl?”

“When he told me that chicken taco you gave him was the best thing he’s ever had.”

You smiled at his praise, drumming your fingertips on the steering wheel.  “Maybe I’ll stay sometime.”

“Pining,” Skyler said, then hopped off the truck.

[gravelgirty]

Hi could you talk more about caves what you said on that post is really interesting

Sure thing!

First of all, it was an amazing cave I worked in. You never forget that. I'll pick one of my favorite topics,

the FALLOUT SHELTER AGGRAVATION TAX.

Clears throat.

Limestone caves are literally stone libraries in the geologic record of the world. Twice a year the airflow would change and then you'd smell smoke from decrepit old torches dating as far back as 1812. People made saltpeter in these caves, they were natural mines for things that went boom, and one of those 'requirements' meant airflow so you wouldn't suddenly and embarrassingly, drop dead of too much Underground. This is why the coal miners were eternally bemused and asking us questions like airflow. Sometimes you gotta canary. Sometimes you are the canary. This often led to predictable questions that was these old gents trying to be polite, but what they really wanted to know was,

'why the hell are you being paid $10 a trip plus tips to walk us 1.1 miles underground up to 3 times a day and no one has a mortgage gun aimed at your head?'

To which I would say, 'it wasn't quite that bad. If no one shows up at all we get paid $10.' ...Dear Saint Barbara, Chango, and the Gods of Deep Mystery, the things we tell ourselves. $10 a day. Crap. Thank goodness I had Granny's House, dad was paying the property tax, the water was on a well, and garbage was less that $20 a month. A shame we can't afford a TV, but hey, we can stay busy digging up that quarter-acre garden that will keep us fed plus the road kill Deer in the fall.

But the conditions that created saltpeter (I'll go into depth on that later if people are interested) also convinced some weird-ass people in Washington DC that caves were the perfect place to do a DR STRANGELOVE and people could go hide out in the caves, free of...well, nothing, really, because radiation = straight lines +caves, air, irradiated air and water, and everything goes down into the caves...

Look. It made people feel safe, ok? And it wasn't the worst decision the Pentagon ever made, considering they were telling the scientists working with HOT RADIOACTIVE MATTER to stay safe by sticking the stuff on a long pole so they wouldn't have to touch it.

Everybody knows about the bomb shelter President Kennedy was prepared to run to with his family in case of Cold War. It was in the Greenbrier Resort in White Sulphur Springs (I prefer to think of it as the HIDDEN FIGURES birthplace). FYI everybody who lived here knew where it was. There are only so many power stations one measly little resort that cries that it can't afford to pay for its own water bill can keep.

[insert sniffle boohoo sobbing of the pro-confederates who run that place and while I can't be there for you, try to imagine the joy I am stockpiling for the day when we have another traitorous uprising and this time, the resort doesn't get a GO PASS GO by dangerous romantics and is finally burned to the ground.]

Anyway, the important people like the President, his family, his Secret Service, his staff, cook, maid-in-waiting, bootblack and et al got to go bunker down in the luxurious bomb shelter at the resort, which probably wouldn't be very resort-y after a certain point of Castro going, 'fuck you, you whippersnapper Irish Dog' or Khrushchev throwing a little more than his shoe around. I'm not convinced it was that great of a place to hide, really. I mean...they have lightning rods on the trees over there, and believe it or not, cavers in that country have been hit by lightning while underground. Because. Lightning. If it can bake entire acres of potatoes in the field, two subterranean surveyors with metal measuring tape haven't got a prayer.

I want you to know that I can't at this point go into detail (space restrictions) on the importance of all these caves to Union Sympathizers, slaves on the Underground Railroad, and the Far-Righter MAGAS called Confederates. Trust me when I say, if you didn't know where these caves were, you had absolutely no right to know.

In Appalachia, limestone caves were listed on properties and handed down because of their value. Thomas Jefferson made a point of making sure there were lots of caves to provide nitre for the Gunpowder Committee. I don't know if landowners had to pay taxes for having saltpeter caves (probably), but when the Cold War came around, they definitely and cheerfully sold the access rights to the government because...it was the government. I am not in the least bit joking when I tell you there are people over there who are still pissed off over George Washington's Whiskey Rebellion.

If you really want to get into the psyche of Appalachians, go read up every scene Terry Pratchett ever wrote about Lancre in his Discworld books. Just give them more libraries and a LOT of coffee stations.

Oh, dear. I forgot all about the owling and the Prohibition.

Owling = the practice of moving your herds of cattle from one ridge to the next to avoid a higher payment when the taxman came a-calling.

Prohibition = The Second Oldest Profession.

These days, many of the Fallout Shelter caves are being used for...modern needs. Meth labs, if you're a sensationalist, but if you aren't, bear in mind that hiding out stolen cattle and horses still requires big places out in the middle of nowhere. But when Mr. Gov't Man came around and offered cash for the access rights to grand-daddy's old saltpetre cave? Goodness gracious, we know we aren't supposed to take people's money from them because that's a sin, but...taxes...you know how it is... (most of the mountain folk had no real quarrel with Kennedy despite his heathen dog Catholicism because it wasn't his fault he was brought up Catholic, but when it came to the government...well, it was the principle of the thing).

In short order papers were drawn, and shelters were built and good god, they were ugly. Clapboard shantytowns, I swear. They were stockpiles whacked together with off-brand plank and tenpenny nails for where the selected few could bunker up in the cozy, damp, dripping, chilly, dusty, sneezy, probably-warm-from-stray-radiation environs. I have no idea who the Pentagon hated enough that they would send them to these caves. They had a bottleneck opening for easy defense, yes, but there was no defense against puking yourself to death or accidentally taking off your own skin with your uniform at the end of your shift.

YOU THINK I"M KIDDING?? YOU THINK IT IS A COINCIDENCE THAT CLASSIC DR WHO SHOWS DALEK HISTORY IN AN OLD STONE QUARRY? WELCOME ABOARD!

A fallout shelter's stockpile generally consisted of

*High-quality medical equipment, even though some of that stuff had a shelf life of three minutes.

*Radio Equipment. Which was probably a real belly laugh to the folks running the NARO satellite dishes up in Green Bank, because families in the most rural portion of WV (Pocahontas County) spent their evenings parsing Latin and teaching the young lads and lasses the wonders of shortwave and how to rig up your own crystals in case you needed to jackleg your own.

*Food. God. Awful. Food. It was designed to keep you alive, but you can't say anything more charitable about it. Honestly, I'm surprised nobody tried to corner a government contract on dehydrated water.

*Water. Potable water for drinking, but, I should say, I couldn't find any means with which you could make a potable distillery. Or, how much of this potable water was going to be used to rehydrate the ghastly awfulness of the dehydrated food, or the canned goods that included stuff the military couldn't wait to forget. Go ask your grandparents how much canned horse Circa WWII they ate while they served, m'kay?

*Candy. High energy, easily digestible candy. Flavor optional, at the discretion of the same government that made the WWII Chocolate Bar.

*The containers themselves. Yep, they counted. They were heavy metal barrels and tough buckets or small drums, plus the amazingly dense metal and plastic containers for medical kits, candy, and misc. I'm not sure if they had a requirement other than impervious, waterproof, and on sale. In fact, the smaller drums/buckets were supposed to be lined with the plastic used to wrap the other goods, and convert into a toilet.

Cold War comes and goes. I'm sure what happened next is shocking:

1) medical supplies goes missing in the dead of night.

2) Electronics follows. That probably makes the electricians feel good, because...what good would they have done in the wet, dust-filled atmosphere of the caves?

3) Candy. Candy, did you say? I don't remember seeing any candy..?

4) The gradual disappearance of the food rations is mysteriously in proportion to camping trips multitasking with double-dog-dares. Who needs a frat pledge if Freckles here has never been introduced to the joys of Dehydrated Ketchup?

5) If you think the backyard blacksmiths are making forges with tire rims, do you think metal containers stand a chance?

This leaves the barrels of water, but who would want to drink that stuff? It's been sitting around for how long? Ew. And the boards for those shelters...cripes.

This inadvertently makes up a tiny little side bonus for the hard-working tour guide. Because these shelters are usually ridiculously close to the entrance of the tour caves. You have to take your tour group in stages, see, and once they finish gasping and wheezing their way through the first 300 steps, you have to take their minds off how miserable they are and pause at the shelter with your flashlight, and describe this little chapter of history. By this time the bats are hanging off the boards (your chance to remind them of the exorbitant federal fines for hurting these little mosquito-hunters), the occasional lost salamander, and the beginnings of the Dreaded Cave Cricket (ten minutes with these little monsters and you'll never think pink is an effete color ever again).

And the mold. There are patches of mold the guides have been watching for YEARS. Some of them have even bothered to look them up, because...tourists. They love to stump the guides and use it as an excuse for not tipping you because you haven't taken a Master's in The Encompassing Topic of Karst Everything and are clearly a dumbass, hah-hah I'll spend my money in the overpriced gift shop, peasant.

But no, folks. If you ask them one more damn time if they're sure all the candy and drugs are gone...we're too tired to take your bleeping bleep bleep tip anyway.

[theliterarywolf]

How was the sequel to Tales from The Hood, a shitshow?

The original Tales from the Hood, while having some campy horror elements, still managed to present its stories and tone competently while still incorporating themes of struggles of black Americans in urban areas. 

Examples: 

A black politician who’s been trying to fight against police corruption gets beaten to death and injected with drugs post-mortem by said corrupt cops to slander his name. The politician returns from the dead to exact vengeance. Obviously this short tackles police brutality and corruption.

A little boy and his mother who are constantly beaten and abused by what he draws and identifies as a ‘monster’ who, it turns out, is the mother’s new boyfriend. The theme here is Domestic Violence and how often people try to brush it under the rug as just a way of life in the community. 

A former klansman-turned senator buys a building called ‘The Dollhouse’ that is of high historical significance to the local black community, despite their wishes and complaints, to serve as the headquarters for his racist campaign to become governor. The house in of itself was where a confederate-supporter, after the loss of the Civil War, decided to murder all of his slaves rather than see them freed. Their restless souls haunted the place until a ‘voodoo woman’ managed to calm their souls and place them into dolls. You can pretty much guess where this is going and the themes.

The final entry centers around a gang-member who, after getting hunted and shot down by rival gang-members, is taken into police custody and is given one last chance for freedom by a doctor’s new, radical behavioral therapy program. Said therapy takes a note right out of A Clockwork Orange and bombards our main character with alternating images of brutal gang-violence and KKK lynchings. After which, he is berated with apparitions of all the people he’s shot and killed; including a little girl who was a victim during one of his drive-by shootings. Of course, this kind of therapy will only be successful if the subject shows some remorse...

And all of this is wrapped in a framing device of three gang-members trying to find some drugs at a funeral-home, even harassing the funeral-director, which turns out to be a portal into hell.

... *deep breath*

I have to do a ‘Read More’ because this post got long. But I implore you guys to read on to see the abyss of insanity and bad directions that were taken in regards to the sequel of this movie. Please.

The sequel decided to throw ALL NUANCE AND TACT out of the window and give us such wonderful stories as: 

A white girl and a black girl are on a road-trip and decide to go to the... ugh... Museum of Negrosity where the owner chastises them on thinking that the uncomfortable racist memorabilia he owns (collections of minstrel show cartoons, golliwog and pickaninny dolls) are things of the past instead of acknowledging them as parts of America’s racist past. And, for some reason, the white girl is obsessed with buying one of the golliwog dolls because she had one when she was little. Anyway, they sneak back in later with the white girl’s brother who happens to be the black girl’s boyfriend, so they can steal one of the dolls. Through hijinks, the doll comes to life and grows to the size of a human being. The brother/boyfriend gets whipped to death, the black girl gets cut in half by a minstrel-colored guillotine, and the white girl... Fucks the giant golliwog doll, gets pregnant, and a few days later, has her stomach torn open as a bunch of baby versions of the doll go flying out everywhere.

Some gang-members track down a former pimp who’s changed his ways to try and shake him down for some owed money. He doesn’t comply, so they kill him but, golly-gee! How are they going to get the money now~? Oh, I know! Hold a scam medium hostage so he can perform a seance to talk to the pimp to find out about the money. But, oh no~ It looks like the medium’s powers decide to actually work this time~ Ooh~

Two douchebags hookup with two hot chicks and, after the world’s worst game of Cards Against Humanity, they decide to roofie the girls so they can record themselves raping them so they can post it to ‘le dark web’. ... Lo’ and behold, the girls turn out to be vampires who were playing 4D chess to rope the two douchebags in so they can use them for their own recording-something-brutal-to-post-online scheme. 

And... The LAST one. Oh my God, the LAST ONE. *deep breath* Okay.

So we follow a black republican councilman who is married to a white woman and they’re expecting a baby after a long line of miscarriages. But the wife is having weird bouts of bad dreams and insomnia. What are the bad dreams about? 

... I need you guys to understand. That I am not shitposting when I type the following words. *deep breath* Okay. 

The wife is being haunted by the ghost of Emmett Till telling her that she doesn’t deserve to have her baby. You know? Emmett Till? The victim of one of the most brutal, horrific murders in America due to one of the most disgusting, vile acts of racism? THAT EMMETT TILL?!

So..! The black councilman is working for a white politician who... I’m just going to put a direct quote from the movie so you can get where they were coming from.

“That man wants to close down ten more voting locations, all of them in black districts!”

Anyway, after a house-call from a doctor who brushes off the dreams as hormones, the councilman hosts a party for the politician who’s running slogan is ‘Let’s take Mississippi back!’ Gee-golly-willickers! Can’t imagine where they were coming from with that one!!

So the party goes on, the politician even congratulating our councilman on his ‘white wife’, but said wife rushes downstairs after having another dream; ranting about ‘that boy from the field has decided to LIVE! And if he lives, our baby’s going to die!’ And she runs outside with a machete to try and kill the ghost of Emmett Till (who, again, very real person and victim of racist brutality). 

So the councilman’s mother and the local voodoo expert drive up and the voodoo expert tells the councilman that Emmett Till is trying to talk to him about the nature of sacrifice. The next day, the wife is talking about how her stomach is getting smaller, but the councilman doesn’t want to hear any of it and calls the doctor again. And, guys..?! If shit hadn’t jumped the rails before?! The train just starts doing cartwheels from here. 

The doctor is suspiciously short-tempered with the politician this time around and he does examine the wife to confirm that her stomach is indeed shrinking. However, when he’s told that the councilman is the father, he storms out and snaps “I don’t work for coloreds!” 

Then the wife runs out of bed and tells the doctor that the councilman isn’t her husband and that he kidnapped and raped her. So both the wife and the doctor drive off and the councilman realizes that the world has somehow gone back to the era of Jim Crow. 

... Oooh my gosh, typing this is making me want to commit toaster-bath but it gets so much worse..!

So, after the voodoo expert comes to chastise the councilman about not ‘respecting the sacrifices that have been gifted to you’, he is able to see the ghost of Emmett Till (who was a real person, why is this happening..?!) who is there to tell him that he’s decided that he wants to live. Which means that the world will never see the brutal images of his body at his funeral and that will cause a Butterfly Effect in history that will make it so that the Civil Rights Movement never happened. 

You may be questioning the logistics of this, but don’t worry! The ghosts of the girls killed in the 1963 16th Street Baptist Church Bombing in Birmingham come to explain and further berate the councilman about ‘respecting the sacrifices that have been gifted to him’ and working for a racist politician. 

But wait! There’s more! *whines* I keep crying out to God but he won’t answer...

They’re soon joined by the ghosts of the three Freedom Riders who were killed during the Mississippi Burning Murders, the ghost of Civil Rights Activist Medgar Evers, and DR. MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR. 

Not to mention several other unnamed figures who walk up while everyone else starts chanting about ‘respecting the sacrifices that have been gifted to you’, who look like Rosa Parks and Frederick Douglass, just to name a few. 

... I need a drink. I need a cold, stiff drink. ... Almost done. 

So, in comes the Klan. You know, the white-robed bastards; I hear they have an outreach center a few cities away from me. Sure, fine, whatever. The wife is leading them along with the white politician who hits the councilman’s mother in the face with a baton and Emmett Till stops time just as reinforcements show up to tell the councilman that, in order for everything to go back to normal, he has to join the ranks of those who sacrificed. 

“If what you want is worth us dying for, how come its not worth you dying for?!”

And, at first, the councilman disagrees; even being dragged away by Klansmen. However! It’s his wife angrily spitting in his face that makes him realize that this world isn’t the world he wants to live in. So he runs over to Emmett Till to tell him that he will join him... And then he’s beaten to death, becoming a sacrifice to get the world back to normal. And, once it is, his spirit joins Emmett Till’s and walks off into the great beyond. 

So! Not only did this schlocky, B-movie horror movie sequel decide to use a REAL LIFE VICTIM of racism-driven brutality as a story-device, but it also wants to put forth the message that the people who lost their lives during the Civil Rights Movement? Yeah, they HAD to die! Otherwise the Civil Rights Movement would never have happened~!

You see why I hate the sequel to Tales from the Hood so much? Not even mentioning the terrible framing segments of a racial-profiling robot being told these stories so it knows what ‘criminals’ to go after, but this movie is just a temple of ‘WHY?! WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?!?!?!’