#but with the context of the call shit just got too dark so i turned around to make it a bit lighter

[lover-of-mine]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

I was tagged by @honestlyeddie @giddyupbuck @daffi-990 @disasterbuckdiaz thank you 🩷

So, I'm done with the nightmare/talking about the shooting fic, I just need to format it and put in it on ao3, so I'm definitely posting it later today, but have a little bit more of it while we wait prev snippet

“Morbid,” Eddie finishes for him with a chuckle once he trails off, “but not the point, you know what happened wasn't your fault, right?” He asks, studying Buck’s face, "you didn't fail me." “Rationally, yeah, but I'm not sure I believe it all of the time,” Buck says with a sigh. “It was a traumatic event, your feelings about it won't be rational.” “It's just that, today,” he shifts on the couch, pulling a leg under him so he could turn his whole body to Eddie, “that girl, she didn't even notice she had been hurt too because of the way she was trying to keep her friend awake. And you, you asked me if I was hurt, and I get it, I was covered in blood but you had no way of knowing it was your blood, not- not mine, but she got me thinking about how I wouldn't have noticed if I was,” he pauses, frowning as he seems to be trying to remember, but clenching his fists as if he needs to be ready to fight it if he has to, “everything narrowed down to keeping you alive, and you are, but for a second I thought you weren't and, that's just- I don’t know what to do with that.”

No pressure tagging 🩷: @eddiebabygirldiaz @bucks118 @wikiangela @try-set-me-on-fire @steadfastsaturnsrings @honestlydarkprincess @watchyourbuck @vampbuckley @housewifebuck @eowon

[madi-writes-things]

Stay… (Jake Webber X Reader)

Summary:

“I’m at the hospital” “What do you mean?!”

Word Count: 1,046

TW: Hurt/Comfort, Arguments, Car Accidents, Hospitals, Head Injury, Use of Y/N

You almost never fight, but everyone has their breaking point… and tonight appeared to be both of yours. It wasn’t even anything big. Jake had to go to an important dinner meeting, and you felt left out. By the time he got home you were already in a mood, which only pissed him off. He was just trying to help, but you refused to tell him what was wrong.

“It’s not a big deal.” you lied through your teeth. It hurt your feelings when he didn’t invite you to dinner, when you knew for a fact that the other influencers had brought their partners. “Don’t worry about it” your words were laced with venom.

A look flashed across his face that was unreadable, but his words quickly filled in the context. “Oh… so that’s what we’re doing?” He was really starting to get mad now. It was too late to tell him that it really didn’t matter, and that you just want to forget about the whole ordeal. “You refuse to tell me why your mad, and you just get pissy when i ask… I’m done trying to have a rational fucking discussion with you”

You knew that he was right, but his words just made you more upset. “I shouldn’t have to fucking tell you why I’m mad Jake, maybe if you thought about anyone other than yourself you could figure it out!” At this point tears were streaming down your face, and you could see that they had started to form in his eyes as well. You didn’t mean for it to come out that harsh, but you also didn’t know how else to make him understand that he really hurt you.

“I can’t stand you when you act like this…” He turned to walk to your shared room as he said this. The pain in your heat grew tenfold hearing him say he couldn’t stand you. You knew he didn’t mean it, but that didn’t soften the blow. You immediately walked into y’all’s room and stated grabbing clothes from your drawer, quickly packing them into a tote bag. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He looked confused.

“Since you ‘can’t stand me’ right now, i figured I’d get out of your hair… I’m going to a friends house.” You watched as he tried to think of something to say, before eventually deciding to let you go. You both needed some space and time to reset.

You quickly packed enough clothes for a week, before going down to your car. You wanted him to stop you, but you knew that he wouldn’t. You don’t blame him, you knew he didn’t want you to go… but you also know that he needed space too. As you started driving you realized that you didn’t know where you were going, you decided to find a lot to park in and call a friend.

As you exited the highway you noticed that traffic was coming to a stop, so you started to slow down. A strange sense of panic rushed over you as you looked in your rear view mirror. Oh shit oh shit oh-

***

You woke up 3 minutes later to EMS crowded around your car. You quickly roll your window down and ask what happened. As they explain what happened you reach up to touch your throbbing head, only to see blood on your hand as you pull it away. You got very light headed at the sight of the blood, and suddenly everything was dark again.

***

As soon as you got to the hospital you knew you needed to call Jake. You waited until thy were done with your exam, partially because you wanted to know how bad it was… but mostly because you were scared that Jake wouldn’t answer. How were you supposed to know that Jake had been crying since you left, just hoping you would call. The phone rang three times before you heard a sleepy voice greeting you.

“Y/N?” You realize that you didn’t responded fast enough when he speaks again. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m in the hospital.” Your voice breaks a little at the end, you haven’t stopped crying since you woke up in the ambulance. Unfortunately for the EMS people you refuse to talk abut anything other than the fight.

“What do you mean!?” This broke you, you couldn’t handle the thought of Jake being mad at you anymore. “Y/N, where are you?”

You told him what hospital you were at, and that you were okay. Jake was there in less than five minutes, you didn’t question how he got there so quick. As soon as you saw him you started crying… again. You could see the look on his face change from worry to relief to shock within three seconds of finding you. You understood why… the nurse had let you look at yourself in a mirror, and it wasn’t good.

Once he registered that he had found you, he rushed to you. “What happened, are you okay?” He reached up to inspect the bruises and small cuts on your face. You flinched away. It hurt to move your face, and someone touching it right now wasn’t something you wanted to think of.

“I’m so sorry… for everything” Jake quickly assured you that hew was sorry too, and that it wasn’t your fault that any of this happened. “They said that i could go home as soon as i got a ride.”

***

As soon as you and Jake got home he started making a bed on the couch. It didn’t register what he was doing at first. “You can take the bed, I’m sure it isn’t good to sleep on the couch after an accident.”

He was being so respectful, but all that you wanted was for him to hold you and tell you that everything was going to be okay. “Don’t…” It was so quiet that he almost didn’t hear it, you didn’t know what to say. “Can you please stay with me, I don’t want to be alone.” He followed you to y’all’s shared bed, doing his best to hold you without upsetting a bruise. You fell asleep to him telling you how much he loves you, and you’ve never felt safer.

———————————————————

I hope that y’all enjoyed it, feel free to send a request my way.

-Madi <;3

[alovesongshewrote]

Baby Girl | The Lost Boys x Reader HCs

Plot:  ya call the boys baby girl. just to see what happens. [The Lost Boys x GN!Reader]

Word count:  1420 (nice)

Warnings:  implied horniness???? it's not that bad, it's just paul being a dingus

A/N: again, holy fuck i can't believe i wrote this. even more holy fuck, somehow, this isn't the stupidest thing i've ever written, and the most holy fuck, i think i might do one of these for every fandom i write for. wish me fuckin luck babes.

Marko

Marko finds it hilarious 

You saunter up to him on the boardwalk

Full of confidence and mischief 

You throw an arm around his shoulders 

Lean your weight on him

And you say

“Ok, where are we going, baby girl?”

Yeah, you don’t end up going anywhere, because he starts wheezing 

He just wasn’t expecting it, it caught him off guard

And then you have to stand there for five minutes while he laughs so hard he fails at standing

Boy is on his KNEES losing it at “baby girl”

And you’re just standing over him for a few minutes, ginning like a madman until you kneel down next to him

And holding back your own laughter

You say

“What’s wrong, baby girl?”

And he just falls over

And at that point you also fall over 

And both of you are just cackling at this dumb shit

It’s attracting attention, but neither of you care

Eventually the rest of the boys come back to find you and marko just

On the ground

Dying

And david straight up turns around and walks the other way

It’s great, it’s fantastic

You and marko call each other “baby girl” for at least a week

And you both die laughing every single time

Everyone else hates you but it’s so fucking worth it

Paul

He also finds it hilarious, but like

Slightly to the left

The two of you are also on the boardwalk 

Vibing

Waiting for everyone else to show up

And you’re sitting on one of the rails while he stands like, kind of in front of you?

And he gets distracted by something

As he does with startling frequency 

And you watch him for a few minutes

Admiring him

But eventually, you get bored with that, so you kinda 

Kick him

A little bit

Not hard 

It’s not enough to hurt him

(if you can even do that)

But it’s enough to get his attention 

He looks at you

And his eyes get really big and sad, like he’s silently asking, “Why did you kick me?”

Or alternatively, “YOU KICK PAUL?  YOU KICK HIS BODY LIKE THE FOOTBALL?  JAIL FOR Y/N, JAIL FOR ONE THOUSAND YEARS”

Either way, you power through it

And you go

“Whatcha lookin at, baby girl?”

And this boy just

Lights Up

The sad puppy eyes are Dropped 

And They Are Replaced With The Horny Eyes.

He just

Leans into you

As he looks at you, scanning you up and down

His gaze is piercing and uhhh

It looks like he wants to Eat You.

And goes

“baby girl, huh?”

And you’re like

“Yeah, baby girl.  And you didn’t answer my question.”

Which like

You say it

And you are Aware that you are Playing With Fire

But fuck, the fire is fun to play with

And you won’t complain about getting burned 

So

When he takes another step towards you and like

Smacks a hand down on your leg

You just lean in further and go

“Are you gonna answer me, baby girl?”

Yeah, you get bit

On the neck

You fucked around and found out

You leaned in too far and you got bit

These boys, i swear, they’re animals 

Just fuckin biting

It’s a gentle bite tho

Soft

Teasing 

And when he pulls back he goes

“Doesn’t matter, baby.  All I can see now is you.”

And it’s so fuckin cute that you almost fall off the rail you’re sitting on

Anyway, yeah, you and paul also call each other “baby girl” for a week, but the context is Different 

Dwayne

Dwayne has a relatively simple reaction

The two of you are vibin in the cave

It’s dark outside 

So everyone else is out

And the two of you are alone

And he’s minding his own business

Lounging around a bit 

Reading a book 

And you

You are Bored

And you’re in the mood to cause problems on purpose, so

You slide in

Lean over him

And you watch him for a second

Tilting your head every now and then like a confused puppy

He ignores you

And after a few minutes of standing there, a plot comes to your wicked little mind

You lean in even closer

And you go

“Hey baby girl, whatcha reading?”

And he just

Looks at you 

For a second

Maybe he blinks once or twice

And you don’t budge, you’re just sitting there grinning at him

In silence

And then suddenly 

In the blink of an eye

He pulls you down onto him and into his arms

You quickly find yourself resting on top of him 

Using his chest as a pillow 

And this man

Does Not Wear A Shirt

So that’s fun for you

Anyway, he takes the book and just

Holds it above the two of you 

So that you can both read it

And he says

“Look for yourself, baby girl”

Which if you ask me, is the fuckin Height Of Romance, but you didn’t ask me, and that’s okay

Anyway, yeah, it’s cute

Fuckin

Adorable shit

David

Anyway, time for david

David is

Confused

By his baby girlification 

Like

He’s not mad, he doesn’t expect it

(Kinda like marko, but he doesn't laugh, he just sorta sits there)

It takes him a second to process, because the second the word “baby girl” leaves your mouth and floats his way, he blue screens

Like

David.exe is not working

The first time you do it, you’re in the cave with everyone else

And he’s sitting in his wheelchair, staring off into the distance like the brooding vampire man that he is

And you lean over him and go

“Whatcha thinkin about, baby girl?”

And he just goes

“What?”

And like

I don’t think you can actually say that he says what

It’s more like he breathes it out while his eyebrows furrow together and he shoots you the most confused look you have ever seen on his face

In part, he’s unsure that you’re talking to him

And in another part, you usually use more

Idk

Standard?  Pet Names? 

Darling, maybe sweetheart 

And he wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to weird pet names, it’s just that one time on the boardwalk you heard him call a potential meal “kitten” and you didn’t stop meowing at him for three months

So yeah, he didn’t see that one coming

It doesn’t help that the rest of the boys are there at the time, and you, marko, and paul just start chanting the word “baby girl” over and over again

Side note, i think the boys may have a thing for chants

Anyway

The next time you call him baby girl, he you catch him off guard with your sheer boldness 

It’s not the “baby girl” itself, it’s the words that accompany it

See, he’s drinking something 

Water, blood, whatever

He’s drinking it

And you look over at him and you just go

“Damn, you’re pretty thirsty tonight, huh baby girl?  We’ll just have to do something about that.”

And your tone is like, half joking, but that doesn’t matter, he still chokes on his drink

He coughs for like

A Good Few Minutes

And in those minutes you go from laughing at him, to panicking and patting him on the back

Congrats to you btw, you almost killed known horror icon david lost boys

Good for you

Anyway, he survives, which is good

Bc idk how forgiving the other boys would be of you committing manslaughter (vampire slaughter?) against david

(tbh, they’d probably be pretty forgiving given the sheer hilarity of the situation)

BUT HE LIVES, AND I DIGRESS 

The next time you call him baby girl is in front of max

And like

This is peak 0 brain cell behaviour for you, because you straight up aren’t even thinking about it

You see david in the video store

You walk into the video store

You don’t realize he is in the Middle Of Talking To His Dad

“Dad”

And you go

“Hey baby girl”

And then you wander off to the horror section 

Just

No thots given 

You don’t even notice david and max staring after you

You’re too busy looking at a copy of texas chainsaw massacre 2

And when they turn back to face each other it is literally that one meme

“David, why does (Y/N) call you baby girl?”

“Maybe we should stop talking for a while”

Overall 

David doesn’t mind it, it just fucking surprises him every gd time

You’d think he’d get used to it but nope

It always gets him

[venus-haze]

Girls on Film (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

Summary: As a film studies major at Windsor College, your junior year is proving to be an eventful one as the eponymous Ghostface begins targeting fellow students, some who you consider friends. You try to focus on your classes, mainly the short film project you’re working on with Mickey Altieri, who your professor inexplicably paired you up with despite the two of you having almost polar opposite views on the medium. 

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. You’re also into gross out movies because I wanted a strong contrast to Mickey’s “blame the movies” thing and also irony…as you’ll see. This is an extremely dark fic, so look at the warnings before deciding whether to read this. Also, you know and I know that Mickey didn’t kill Randy, but in the context of the fic, the reader-character doesn’t know that. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: One-sided rivalry (Mickey hates your guts). Discussions of “gross” movies and themes. Descriptions of violence. Major character deaths. Sexually explicit content which involves non/dubcon, knifeplay, bloodplay, sadism (slight masochism). Do not interact if you are under 18.

Film Theory went from okay to off the walls when Mickey Altieri decided to make the argument that movies could be responsible for people’s actions. Using the brutal murders at the early Stab screening in town as an example was in poor taste when it had just happened the night before. It wasn’t even that you disliked Mickey, having met him in your Introduction to Film History course. He was pretty funny, and the two of you had a lot of the same classes together, moved in the same social circles. 

He’d expressed similar views before, but never so egregiously. You couldn’t believe a fellow film student would have such a regressive view of cinema. It was asinine to even entertain the idea, but you couldn’t let the conversation go on without giving your two-cents to your peers. 

“CiCi’s right. That exact thinking is what led to the Hays Code.”

“Bonnie and Clyde was one of the first post-Code movies to make it big. It showed there’s profit in glorifying crime and violence,” Mickey said. “The decade after it came out was the golden age of serial killers.”

“Oh sure, I watched one too many John Waters movies, and now I’m having sex in confession booths,” you said, earning snickers from your classmates. 

“Thank you,” Randy said. “I don’t think anyone was eating dog shit after watching Pink Flamingos.”

“Maybe Ghostface got the idea for the phone calls from Serial Mom,” one of your classmates quipped.

“Kathleen Turner’s character in that was inspired by serial killers. She read true crime books and collected paraphernalia,” Mickey argued.

“I’ll do you one better and raise you John Waters himself,” you said. “The guy has a morbid fascination with the Manson Family to the point where he incorporates references to them in almost all of his movies. He hasn’t committed any mass murders.”

“No, he just makes movies that make people wanna puke,” another classmate said.

Mickey opened his mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by Sidney and Hallie rushing to the classroom door, looking for Randy. Unable to keep the class’s attention after that, your professor dismissed everyone. 

CiCi made her way over to you, giving you an exasperated look. “Reagan-era politics have really poisoned some of these people’s critical thinking skills.”

“Tell me about it,” you agreed.

CiCi had been in a lot of the same classes as you your freshman year, and the two of you became fast friends over your similar taste in movies and distaste for closed-minded people. She was a big Lee Grant fan, wanting to make candid documentaries about tough social issues too.

You had some time to kill before your next class, so the two of you made your way to one of the empty picnic tables outside and continued the discussion, which had quickly turned into mutual ranting. Her point about the Slumber Party Massacre movies being directed by women was cut short when you realized you’d have to book it across campus to make it to Film Production II in time.

It was one of the higher level courses for film students who were looking to make feature films rather than focus on screenwriting or making documentaries. Among the prerequisites for Film Production II were Screenwriting I and II. In theory, everyone in the class would have two or three short film scripts ready to be adapted for an advanced Film Studies class. Few films were ever solo projects, so you weren’t surprised when your professor told everyone on the first day of class to prepare to be partnered up for the project, which would count for most of the course’s grade.

When you walked into the classroom, your professor handed you a slip of paper with two names on it. Yours and–of course. You almost had to laugh at the irony. Mickey. His attitude toward you could be unpredictable. Some days would be fine, and others it was like the two of you were about to bite each other’s heads off. 

Speak of the devil. You watched his reaction to the slip of paper when he walked in. Unreadable, even when his attention turned to you.

“Is Sidney okay?” you asked when Mickey sat next to you.

“As okay as anyone can be in this situation. That cop from Woodsboro’s here—Dewey, he’s keeping an eye on her.”

“That’s good.”

“So, let’s get started on this thing I guess. Any ideas?”

“Okay cool. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and my strongest script is ‘The Tongue Remembers’.”

He scoffed. “The one about the cannibal girl who gets lobotomized?”

“Well, we could take the easy route and make a porno,” you snapped. “Not that it’d be very long.”

“Knowing you it’d be snuff.”

“Whatever. We’ll do one of yours, but I get to do casting and set design.”

“Easy enough, ‘Stakeout’ has four characters,” he said, digging through his backpack for a copy of the script.

You flipped through the script, scanning the first few pages to jog your memory. An action-comedy about a group of criminals who knew that they were being staked-out by undercover cops, unaware that one was within their midst. Mickey’s comedy writing was fast-paced and genuinely funny. You’d told him so in your peer review of his script in Screenwriting II. The reviews were anonymous, but the effort was still there.

Most of the reviews for ‘The Tongue Remembers’ were positive, with criticisms of some minor plot points that helped you make the whole script stronger in the long run. The review you appreciated most tore the damn thing apart, but gave detailed explanations for the suggestions given, all of which were so good you almost wanted to seek out who the source was. A handful of people didn’t care for your script at all, objecting to the plot altogether. You quietly suspected Mickey was one of them. 

You tried to shake the tension that had settled over you and Mickey following the exchange just a few moments prior. At least it’d be good experience for dealing with inevitable assholes as you worked your way up in the film industry. It was tough to make it without connections, and even tougher for women.

By the end of class, the two of you agreed to meet in the library the next day and start planning casting and a general production schedule. Mickey had more editing experience than you did, but you wanted to sit in on the process after initial production of the short film was over. He begrudgingly agreed, and you left the classroom for the dining hall in a sour mood. 

When you walked into the crowded dining hall for dinner, you spotted Randy and rushed over to join him. More often than you’d like, he’d have to be the mediator when you and Mickey would really get into it. At least he seemed to find it amusing.

“Hey, is everything alright?” you asked.

He handed you a plate that already had two slices of pizza on it and grabbed one for himself. “Besides the whole ‘Ghostface is back and people are being murdered’ thing? Can’t complain. How about you? Get your partner for Production II yet?”

“Yeah. Mickey.”

Randy laughed. “Nice. I’m sure that won’t be a disaster.”

“I don’t want it to be! I even said we could do one of his scripts.”

“Which one?”

“That action-comedy he wrote, ‘Stakeout’,” you said as the two of you sat at an empty table. “It’s a good script. He’s a great comedy writer. I’m just pissed he wouldn’t even consider ‘The Tongue Remembers’.”

Randy nodded in acknowledgement. “I liked that one. You did a good job of making the cannibals sympathetic. Strong ending too. I’m not so sure it’d go over well at Windsor’s student film fest. Lotta weak stomachs.”

“Last year’s winner was a fucking romcom.”

“So you give the cannibal a love interest. Go a little further than Texas Chainsaw 2.”

“I’m not trying to win awards. I wanna make art.”

“You gotta sell out before you can make art. That’s the industry, kid,” he said, patting your shoulder sympathetically. “Are you gonna be at the Delta Zeta whatever party tonight?”

“Delta Lambda Zeta? I don’t think so,” you said. “I gotta find people to be in this movie.”

It turned out to be one of the best decisions you could have made, because you ended up with a list of people interested in a role in ‘Stakeout’. More pressing, however, was the news that Ghostface had made an appearance at the party, after killing CiCi in the Omega Beta Zeta house. Your stomach dropped at the news. Just a few hours before her death you’d been talking to her. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t connected to anyone from the original Woodsboro killings, the students who were killed at the Stab premiere hadn’t been either.

In a small college like Windsor, news traveled fast, and by the time you finished eating breakfast, you’d heard that Sidney, Randy, Hallie, Derek, and Mickey had all spent the night at the police station following the attack. 

You didn’t want to ask Randy if you were a suspect. Your film taste alone would put you at the top of the list by default. As much as you understood the reasoning considering the last Ghostface duo’s obsession with horror movies, it didn’t mean everyone who watched them would be inclined to commit murder, despite what Mickey thought. Besides, who would your accomplice even be? Derek or Hallie would be too obvious. Gale Weathers was cutthroat, but not in the literal sense. Randy or Dewey would be a devastating twist if the goal was to mess with Sidney that much more. You felt bad. This type of thing was fun in the movies. You couldn’t imagine it being your life. 

Making your way to the library, you weren’t sure whether or not Mickey would actually show up after spending all night in a police station, but it didn’t hurt to go anyway and get other work done.

To your surprise, he sat down across from you a few minutes after you’d agreed to meet. He was wearing the same clothes as the day before, dark circles under his eyes.

“Jesus have you even slept? We can do this another day.”

“Spare me your concern.”

“Look, I don’t want this project to be miserable for either of us,” you said. “Between Film Theory and Production, I was kind of being a bitch yesterday.”

“It was really that porno comment that hit me deep. I’m no two-pump chump,” he said with a smile.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry,” you laughed. “Oh, I have some people interested in three of the four roles for ‘Stakeout’.”

“Already?”

“I wanted to make it up to you.”

He was silent for a moment, placing a hand on your arm and squeezing gently. “I’m sorry about CiCi. I know she was your friend.”

“Thanks,” you whispered, trying to keep it together. The last thing you wanted was to break down in the middle of the library.

The two of you planned to do a test shoot in one of the theater’s empty practice auditoriums over the weekend. The main stage was being used for the theater department’s annual play, but Mickey pointed out that ‘Stakeout’ mostly took place in one room anyway. You went ahead and booked the auditorium on the library computer for about three hours, just to give enough time to work out any kinks and not worry about being interrupted.

While Mickey was going to spend the following couple of days getting props together and making any last minute changes to the script, you would finalize the cast since he approved of your choices, surprisingly. At least, you were going to, until Randy ended up dead not long after CiCi. 

You spent a day locked in your dorm room, partially out of paranoia and also in the depression of losing two of your close friends within days of each other. It was getting serious. Randy had survived Woodsboro. If he wasn’t off limits to Ghostface, no one was. 

By Saturday, you’d debated bailing on Mickey and not bothering to show up for the test shoot. You decided against it. Moping wouldn’t do you any good.

He looked shocked to see you when you walked into the auditorium. You felt bad your progress on casting stalled. His friend had died too, but he had his shit together enough to bring a box of props and the camera.

“Are you sure you’re good to shoot today?” Mickey asked from behind the camera, set a few feet from the stage.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, your voice cracking a bit. “Really, it’s all good.” 

“We don’t have to–”

You shook your head. “Let’s do this.”

“Alright,” he said, though he didn’t sound convinced. “You mind locking the door?”

“Okay.” You walked back to the door, locking it. “I got two of the leads for ‘Stakeout’ down, Frank and Alex. I know Frank wasn’t our first choice, but Greg backed out.”

“No problem–shit, I forgot something in the props box over there,” he said, adjusting the settings on the camera. “Could you get it while I finish setting this up? You can’t miss it.”

“Sure,” you said, making your way over to the cardboard box Mickey had brought with him. It took a lot to rattle you, but as soon as you looked in the box, your skin crawled. The Ghostface mask stared back at you, eyes empty black holes. The same ones your friends saw before they died. “Mickey? This better be some kind of stupid joke.”

You turned around to find him less than a foot behind you. Camera set to record. Knife in his hand. Dangerous gleam in his eye as he took a step toward you.

“Last minute change—unprofessional, I know—but I decided to go in a different direction for our short film,” he said, a sadistic grin spread across his face. “You’re gonna be the star. Too bad you won’t be able to see it.”

Just as you began to scream, he put his hand over your mouth, holding the knife to your throat. “Don’t be a diva on me now. You just say what I tell you, okay?”

You nodded frantically, vision blurred by the tears that flowed freely from your eyes. In your desperation, you accidentally nicked your own skin against the knife, whimpering at the small cut you’d self-induced. Mickey snickered, his gaze shifting from you to the camera lens.

He moved his hand from your mouth, though his thumb rested on your lower lip. Slowly, he pushed it between your lips. Fuck this. Fuck him. You bit down until you tasted copper, earning a sloppy slash across your chest that made you cry out in pain, releasing his thumb. 

He looked at his hand in disbelief and then at you, a grin spreading across his face. “You’re gonna fight back, huh? You wanna play that game?” he said, an unnerving laugh escaping his lips.

Feeling bold, you spit his own blood in his face. In his moment of distraction you grabbed the knife, managing to pull it from his hand. You stumbled back, holding out the knife with a shaky hand. 

Despite you having the weapon, he still seemed smug, amusement in his eyes as he lunged toward you. You wildly swung the knife, cutting his abdomen as you crashed to the ground. He climbed on you, grabbing at your flailing arms as you tried to keep him away with the threat of being cut again.

“I’ll kill you! Fucking bastard!” you screamed. “You killed my fucking friends!”

“Do it!” he taunted. “C’mon, I wanna see you try.”

In your struggle to stab him, you lost your grip on the knife, and it slid across the stage. The both of you froze. You used this moment to push him off of you, scrambling to retrieve it. He threw a punch to your back. The wind knocked out of you, violent coughs clawing their way out of your lungs. He took the opportunity to stand up as you lay on the ground in pain.

Still, with the adrenaline pumping through your veins, you grabbed for the knife, hissing as your fingers wrapped around the blade and cut deep into your skin. It didn’t matter. You had to do the most with it while you had it in your grasp.

You held the knife up in a weak defense as he kicked your stomach. When he moved to kick you again, you slashed his leg, pulling the blade from his flesh and watching as blood quickly stained his pants. 

The wild look in his eye intensified, and he dropped down, his hips straddling yours. You could feel his hard cock press against your core as he shifted. And he said you got off to fucked up shit. 

With one hand, he applied pressure to your throat as the other held down the arm you were holding the knife with. You released your grip on the knife as black spots clouded your vision. You could vaguely hear it fall to the ground when his hand released your throat, and you sucked in a much-needed breath. He picked up the weapon, a triumphant grin on his face. You were fucked.

He sat up, lazily dragging the knife down from your chest to your hips. “You probably should’ve killed me.”

“You think I wasn’t trying?” you wheezed.

“You put up a good fight. I’ll give you that.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

“And you don’t? I saw the thrill in your eyes every time you raised this at me.”

“It’s self-defense!”

“You tell yourself that, babe,” he said, leaning down to kiss you, only for him to stop to whisper, “Try something, and I swear to god I’ll knock your teeth out.”

You were having trouble breathing. He probably crushed part of your trachea. At least you put up a good fight. You lay still as he kissed you, not making an effort to kiss him back until he pressed the blade against your throat. Even then, you let him take the lead, your lips passively responding to his as he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth. He wasn’t a bad kisser. Shame he was a serial killer. It took everything in you not to bite down on it like you had his thumb. You didn’t have the energy to fight back. Knew he wasn’t bluffing about your teeth either.

He pulled away from you, a string of bloody saliva hanging from your lips that he swiped with his injured thumb. Bringing the digit to his mouth, he licked it. You grimaced at the sight.

“C’mon, babe, I thought you were into this kinda thing,” he teased.

“That’s all pretend. It’s not real,” you argued softly.

You gasped as he cut through your top and bra, digging the blade into your abdomen. He traced the tip of the knife around your breasts, watching in amusement as you began to cry. The cool air in the room and metal brushing your nipples made them hard. He used his free hand to pinch and pull at one, eliciting pained whines from you. Your teary gaze was fixed on the knife, though.

“Why don’t you give me a big smile for the camera and tell me how bad you want me to fuck you?”

“Screw you!” you shouted hoarsely.

He scoffed, pulling the knife away from your breasts and holding the blunt side between his teeth as he unzipped your jeans. You squeezed your eyes shut as he pulled the denim down your limp legs, leaving you in only your panties. His index and middle finger pressed against the cotton, rubbing a bit at the wet spot in the fabric.

A pleased noise came from his throat. “So you are into this kinda thing.”

He snapped the elastic waistband against your hips. You moaned. Your eyes shot open, face heating up in embarrassment. 

The knife was back in his hand, though the gleam of the blade lowered, down, down, until you felt it pressed against your inner thigh. He dragged the blade across your sensitive skin until the only thing between it and your pussy was the thin fabric of your panties. You felt like your heart was going to explode from your chest.

“Stop. Mickey, please don’t—oh my god—“ you babbled. “Please—Mickey, I’m sorry—“

“You gonna do what I say?”

“Please fuck me, Mickey. I want you to fuck me so bad.”

“That’s better, baby,” he cooed mockingly.

You heaved a sob of relief as you felt him pull the knife from your panties. Closing your eyes again, you reckoned your impending doom with yourself, trying to ignore the sound of his zipper. The rustling of fabric. The air on your bare pussy.

“Time for the real show.”

Mickey played with your clit while he leaned down to kiss you again, devouring your involuntary moans with a triumphant smugness. 

“The rest of them were messy and painful, just like in the movies,” he said softly, confusing you for a moment before you realized he was talking about his other victims. “I didn’t hate them, though, so I’ll blame this one on violent porn.”

“Mickey, I won’t tell anyone,” you tried. “This can be our secret. I—I like it, really.”

He groaned, pushing his hard cock between your folds. A pained cry escaped your lips as his length filled you. He hardly gave you any time to get used to him inside you as he began thrusting at a brutal pace.

“Keep going,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“You feel so good, Mickey. Your cock is so—fuck—I don’t want anyone else.” You struggled to get words out, your brain overrun by the pain and pleasure that competed to cloud your senses. 

“You’re not getting anyone else.”

Your eyes drifted to the knife in his hand as he pounded into you, nervous about what he was going to do with it next.

“Look at me, baby,” he ordered. 

Your fearful gaze snapped to his, cruel and unforgiving. He kept rubbing circles on your clit, so fast it was almost too painful. That’s what he wanted, though. For you to hurt. Made him feel better, get off quicker if you hurt. It was almost too easy for him, the way your body betrayed you so quickly, wet with slick so he hardly had to do a thing before claiming your cunt. 

Your pussy squeezed his cock, a silent encouragement with each thrust against your will. His breathing was heavy, sweat dripping from his forehead, yet he showed no signs of letting up on you. Bleeding, aching, you weren’t sure how much longer you could take the abuse. 

“I want you to ruin me, Mickey.” You meant it. If this was how you were going to meet your end, it might as well be as brutal as the dark scenarios your mind sometimes wandered to after watching a particularly bloody film. Maybe he was right. Maybe the movies were to blame. “Fucking wreck me.”

He shuddered, his thrusts getting sloppy. “Fuck–Jesus fucking–”

His grip around the knife handle tightened as he came, knuckles white as he stabbed it into the floor, mere inches away from your face. You jolted, fear and adrenaline sending you over the edge. Your orgasm wracked through your body, muscles tensing, the sensation pulsing through your wounds, making them feel like they were on fire.

You nearly blacked out, but you held on long enough to feel him bottom out inside you. His head hung over yours as he caught his breath. Tilting your head up a bit, you kissed him. Softer, more intimate, hopefully enough to throw him off.

You reached for the knife next to you, but he pulled it out of the floor before you could.

“Nice try,” he said, breaking the kiss.

He stood up and walked away. For a moment, you thought he was going to just leave you there. You weren’t so lucky. He returned with Ghostface regalia in hand, looking down at your bloody body beneath him with a grin.

Mickey brought the voice modifier to his mouth. “Now, who wants to die for art?”

[searchingsomewhere]

All Too Well: Cursed Narrative, 1

{"Your silhouette is burned in my memory. Rubble left from the moment that you left me."}

Rating: M (CW will be at the start of each chapter)

Here it is! Thank you, everyone, for reading the sequel to All too Well. For new readers, you don't technically need to read All too Well, but it will definitely help with context. Enjoy!

poly!Gojo x OC x Geto

@reiluvr @lalavender-sama @dei-lijla ilysm, thank you so much for reading!

Summers in Japan were known to be hot and humid. For school-aged children and teenagers, it was the time of year to play with friends, to go out and shop and spend days watching the clouds roll by. For Jujustu Sorcerers, it was the least busy season of the year.

In an apartment building in Tokyo, a young woman stood at the kitchen sink with a blue flip phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. Long, dark hair fell past her shoulders, green eyes darting around the sink as she washed dishes. The v neck of her blouse teased a glimpse of a scar running down her chest. A slender black cane was propped against the cabinet next to her.

"...It's complicated, dad," she said, switching from Japanese to English, "He comes from a very old family, so stuff like that isn't like how it is in the States."

"You've been together for five years, Miho, how complicated could it be?" Her father's tone was surprisingly light, "Don't you think it's odd to adopt before you're even married?"

"It's not really adoption. And we're not 'together'."

"That must be why he comes over every year for the holidays."

Miho rolled her eyes. "He's my best friend, and he doesn't like his family, so that's why-"

"Well, no matter what you kids call it, I don't care as long as you're happy," his voice trails off, as if he were leaning away from the phone. "I have to go, sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you, too. Be safe."

"I will. Say hi to Suguru for me."

Miho paused, hands stilling under the sudsy water. That name echoed in her head. Her bracelet glittered in the sunlight. Brown, green, and blue. She swallowed thickly, resuming her scrubbing.

"Satoru, Dad."

"Oh, jeez, what did I call him?" His embarrassed chuckle made her smile. "Don't mind your old man."

After the conversation was over, Miho dried her hands off on the towel by the sink. She watched the neighborhood children ride their bikes down the street. It was exceptionally sunny and beautiful out. The sky was crystal blue. It reminded her of someone.

Slow hands gripped her waist from behind, sliding around to pull her back against a broad chest. Miho sighed and leaned her head back. Satoru's white hair tickled her cheek as he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck. He inhaled deeply, breathing out a slow content hum.

"You smell good," he said close to her ear.

"You're here early," she said, turning to face him. Her hands instinctively slid up to loop around the back of his neck.

The white haired man smiled down at her. He was almost a head taller than her, surprisingly soft features framed by a mop of white hair. His eyes were a fantastic shade of light, light blue. Miho hadn't noticed in the years they'd known each other just how much he'd grown from a cute teenage boy. At twenty-three years old, Satoru Gojo was an incredibly attractive young man.

"I just got a call from the adoption agency," he said, his smile breaking into a grin.

"And?" Miho gasped, hands flying to her mouth.

"As of today, I have full legal guardianship over the kids," he announced, "The Zenin can't do shit to Megumi."

Miho squealed and threw her hands around his neck, pulling him into a hug. He laughed, kissing the side of her head.

"That's incredible! How did you do it? I thought you had to be twenty-five," she said, pulling away.

Satoru rolled his eyes, "Yeah, but I just kinda talked them into it. Perks of being a Gojo."

Miho gave him a deadpan look. She knew better than that. He only grinned harder and distracted her with peppered kisses down her neck. Miho laughed and struggled against him.

"You mean 'threatened'?" she said between giggles.

"I would never," he gasped, feigning hurt. "But forget about that. Let's go get the kids!"

His hand fit perfectly in hers. Miho grabbed her cane while he grabbed her purse from the couch.

They had successfully played this game of pretend the last five years. At first, the two had tried dating. It wasn't long until the higher administration heard about that, and the drama that ensued caused them to separate. As soon as everyone caught wind that the only heir to one of the most powerful clans in Japan was interested in pursuing someone, Satoru was hounded with questions about getting married and having children. That didn't stop them from seeing each other in private.

Miho smiled at the back of his head. Part of her mourned the relationship they should have been able to have. The other was just glad to have him by her side after all these years.

-----

A woman was rushing through the crowded street. She tightly gripped the arm of a little girl, pulling her along. The dark haired ten year old could barely keep up. She kept tripping over her legs. The woman huffed and yanked her forward still.

"Where are we going?" the little girl demanded.

"Quiet, Daiki," the woman hissed, "There's a monk here who will heal you of your affliction."

"I'm not-"

"Shut up. If your mother knew any better, she would have had you sent away a long time ago."

Daiki closed her mouth abruptly, averting her gaze to the ground. The grip on her arm was painful and sure to leave bruises later.

The two approached a temple. Its pristine, bright white marble pillars reflected the sunlight. Daiki squinted and held up her hand to block the sun.

"Be quiet when Mr. Geto speaks. Let me talk," the woman insisted. "Let's go."

Part 2

[pseudowho]

Hi Mrs. Haitch :D!!! I have a bit of a problem dump in the following 2 paragraphs. And I absolutely do not expect you to read or respond unless you want to! You’re not a therapist and you’re not responsible for others’ emotions. If you do want to read/reply, that’s really welcomed as well!

I personally have had/am having issues with men who are in their thirties hitting on me when I thought I made it clear I just want to be completely platonic friends AND they all knew my age from the start 🥲 TW - I was 19 when two 33 year olds sexually harassed me (one was a coworker who said stuff out of the blue, like, “you want kids? I’ll put one in you” (for context, he heard me talking to my co-hostess about wanting to raise children in the ways I never got loved, nurtured, and cared for) // “What if I touch myself and moan your name?” // “Wanna hear a joke TRIGGER WARNING “Are you a school? Cause I wanna shoot kids inside you” which was literally such a disgusting and inexcusable joke??? Hello?) and currently there’s a 30 year old guy who KEEEEEPS trying to get me to be his super close friend (he was flirting CONSTANTLY until I made it really overly clear I don’t want romance with anyone atm). He knows I am 21 as well! Which is wild to me! Just wild. I’ve literally FELT my frontal lobe developing in the past few years (It’s like I could suddenly start to understand the importance of more practical decisions), and it won’t stop developing until I’m 25 either. So for a full grown 30 year old… to be… I’m 9 year younger than him… idk… it’s weird to me…

and I was wondering, should I feel bad for these people? Would you let pity/guilt override the judgment? (I am not perfect at all and have my share of flaws, but I have had a issues with letting hurt people who hurt people, get away with stuff they do to me AND I feel guilty for not being their personal therapist, even though expecting that of any single person who ISN’T one’s professional therapist, is unfair). You seem like a kind person who understands the depth of humans, so I think I trust your judgment! And would love to hear what you have to say if you want to share. The 33 year olds have deep rooted issues and my heart truly sympathizes with them (but I do feel a shit ton of disgust too. if they ever did that to somebody else I would be SO MAD).

I’m eventually somehow gonna figure these questions out (as life tends to go), so don’t worry about this ask at all if it’s not ur cup of tea, or is draining.

Take care and hope you have a LOVEEEELYYYY DAYYYYYY!!!! (Also curious what ur fav tea is? Mine is Numi’s earl gray. It’s too perfect, so elevated. Very flavorful and elegant and THE NOTESSSSSS oh god. Could write a whole post on it)

Anyone who thinks comments like that are flirting, need to be re-educated. With a baseball bat. They'll call it 'dark humour' when really they're just cunts, so they're doing you a real favour showing you that early.

Well done for not being flattered by the attentions of an older man, because...

If there's anything that women aged 30+ tend to notice, it's that when men their age hit on much younger women, it's usually because that man's character is lacking, he's emotionally immature, a predator who relies on younger women and girls being less self confident, and it is most often a RED FLAG.

These 30+ year old men are usually not with women their own age, because the women their own age recognise that they're arseholes or losers, most of the time, and we cringe when they then repeatedly shoot their shot with young women who they will flatter with that age old adage of 'you're so mature for your age!'

If they have deep-seated issues and they turn it into someone else's problem, without any sense of ownership or willingness to actually work on resolving or improving from their issues, RUN.

Never get with someone out of pity. Have some self-respect, and do not let them mistake your kindness for weakness.

Because people see me as understanding, I am a therapist. To everyone. All the time. Strangers, within hours of meeting me, will often pour out their emotional vulnerabilities and traumas; while I'm tough and able to compute it all, and to help them, and read through a solution, it is sometimes a heavy burden.

But for YOU, remember there is a difference between you therapising someone, and someone using you to trauma-dump. Learn to recognise the two, and protect yourself from being used, especially if these are the very same men who have recently been trying to get into your pants.

My favourite tea is Yorkshire Tea by Taylors of Harrogate, with a splash of milk and a spoonful of brown sugar or honey.

Don't let these pieces of shit use you, kiddo.

They're not "daddies"; they haven't earned such an esteemed title. Nothing daddy about these tramps.

All my love, and I have a knife in my pocket,

-- Haitch xxx

[catiuskaa]

hi katsy poo... thought long and hard about this and came up w absolutely nothing. i had to dig far into my messy notes app to find ideas and these are from all the way back in summer for context ☠️☠️

have you ever been to the beach/pool and seen a cute lifeguard yk? i was thinking maybe skz as lifeguards - this is derived from a lifeguard chan idea my friend and i were talking about <3 (i just thought - jisung giving you a smooch after saving you but playing it off as mouth-to-mouth resuscitation cause he's too shy to admit he's crushing)

excited to see where your mind takes this! cannot wait <33

BABY THAT’S ACTUALLY GENIUS!?

I can actually see it like -excited sounds-

It got me thinking! So I’m turning this into a mix of small blurbs and I'm not apologizing

I'm trying, but they're hot! —lifeguard!skz

To have a baseline, I don't think Meowracha would fit. Like. i just couldn't picture Minho or Felix in this?? (sorry if you were expecting those two!)

But, because of that, they're the besties who —after a thorough session of negotiating, and a large, strained okaaaaaaaaayy from Minho—, agree to go with you to your usual fitness center, which recently opened a swimming pool facility! (and they've hired a certain group of lifeguards... oh wow...)

(got carried out: 2k words)

"This place smells like plastic. And I can't even swim."

You rolled your eyes as Felix snickered, the three of you checking into the new building.

"Minho, there are other things aside from the pool. That's why I even invited you in the first place, like I mentioned the last seven times you started whining about the exact same thing." You let out an exaggerated huff as you smirked, shaking your head sideways.

You separated from your small group as you entered the changing rooms, and quickly put on your dark-coloured swimsuit, your towel resting on your shoulders when you got in the brand new area.

And let me tell you, it was big.

Impressed by the depth of the building, you couldn't see a couple of small-looking kids running around the swimming pool playing tag in loud, childish giggles.

"Careful!" A voice warned, but it startled you, and you jumped in your place, slipping on the wet floor.

Not one of your fanciest of moments, no.

Or so you thought, until your back didn't quite meet the floor, but instead softly crashed against a lean, warm surface.

Knowing Felix would immediately ask you if you were alright and Minho would threaten to let go in less than a second, you looked up at your saviour, and you were welcomed by a handsome rounded face, eyes small because of his heartwarming smile.

Forcing your stumbling legs up, you froze in front of him and stuttered. "T-thank you. Or... I'm sorry. Wasn't paying attention," you managed to let out, followed by a pink dust colouring your cheeks.

fuck, shit, fuck. why did he have to be hot too?!

"Totally fine!" He brushed off nonchalantly, his smile shining enthusiastically, so contagious you couldn't help but grin back.

He called over the member of staff who had warned you, his voice loud to the point were you had to restrain yourself from jumping in your place again when he screamed his name, not wanting to trip another time, and as he smiled at you and walked off to look for the problematic kids or their parents, you could read Changbin on the back of his red and white shirt, the short sleeves letting you see an extensive trail of inked lines that got lost underneath his top and swimming shorts.

what a piece of cake.

Almost in an instant, a slightly younger lifeguard approached you, not quite panting, but really close to doing so. You got flustered, not knowing exactly how to react, and just stared at him while he rested his hands on his waist, looking like he had run several marathons in less than an hour.

"I'm so sorry...! I should've stopped the kids... or warned you sooner..." He sighed, looking quite tired despite it barely being his first week.

"Don't sweat, I'm okay." You shrugged sheepishly. "Rough day?" You smiled, hoping to get one back from him.

He scoffed, amused. You celebrated silently. "More like a rough job... Uh! I mean, no! I love my job...!" You grinned, raising your eyebrows, shocked yet still unable to hold back a sheepish snicker. "Ah, shi... I mean... goddamnit, please don't tell Chan..." he muttered, defeated.

"Oh, wait, Chan?" You blinked, recognizing the nickname. "Wasn't he a trainer in the gym?"

Catching his breath, now looking less stressed, he nodded, hands still on his noticeably really slim waist, unlike the other lifeguard, who was shredded.

"He and Hyunjin were swapped around because they had more experience than other candidates for the jobs. They're both great, don't get me wrong. But Hyunjin should really stop flirting with the group of girls from the synchronized swimming class..." he huffed, then blushed. "Oh." His eyes widened, and he stared at the floor almost mortified.

"Right, eh..." You smiled, amused at his slip-ups, biting your lip softly.

Jisung blushed even more at your giggles, trying and failing to hold it back because he couldn't help but ogle at your defined and fit body from all the exercise you did, being a member of the centre for quite some time. You were a stunning stranger whose giggles were cute. Too much for his caffeine-filled, sleep-deprived self.

"Jisung. Soon-to-be-fired, lifeguard Han Jisung." He presented himself with tired eyes, the last part more for himself than for you, then covered his mouth when he realized he had said it too loud. "I shouldn't have said that...!"

You couldn't help but cackle, unable to hold back your laugh as his blush got to an even deeper shade of pink.

"I'm just... going to... eh... Jeongin is... probably looking for me..."

"Jisung-ah, fighting!" You teased, and he couldn't help but blush even more, smiling as he rushed back to his assigned area of the swimming pool building.

You realized Minho and Felix had been eavesdropping when Minho passed an arm over your shoulders and ruffled your hair, making it messy.

"Yeah, welcome back, cheater," he tsked, smirking.

You struggled to get away from his deathly grip, and Felix rolled his eyes, just laughing at you two.

"Oi, isn't that Chan?" the freckled asked, signalling somewhere else.

"I care more about that hottie who ran away a second ago." Minho scoffed, focused on his own priorities, sounding offended by the fact that he hadn't been able to talk to Jisung.

Felix waved at Chan, and happily waddled his way to him, the two already close friends.

While Minho hurried off to the sauna, Felix and you tried out the main swimming pool, at first actually swimming, but ending up just chatting playfully, Chan joining in from time to time, and then he stayed close during his break.

You got out of the pool and sat on the edge when suddenly you felt someone tickle your sides and push you, making you fall into the water.

Swimming to the surface with ease, you moved your wet hair from your eyes, hiding half down of your face under the water, looking at Chan, who was chuckling.

“Really funny, Mr. Bang.” You mumbled, faking boredom.

“It was Felix’s idea, but I gotta admit that was funny.” He kept on laughing, and that alone was cute, but because he was on a break, to avoid being called over to work, he had taken his shirt off, not feeling cold in the acclimatized environment.

And the image just looked ten times better.

“Reeeally funny.” You were nodding, as if in deep thought. “Help me out?” You smiled innocently, raising one hand towards him.

He grabbed it, but before he could pull you up, you pulled down, his body falling over yours and staying tightly against you for a second, then you smiled under the water and started laughing as soon as you both got back to the surface.

He was blushing, but also smiling cheekily.

“Fair. I deserved that.”

After a while of swimming, laughing and splashing each other, you got out of the pool leaving Felix and Chan on their own, but felt a soft sting in the back of your thigh. Probably from when you were sitting and Chan pushed you to the water, the slight bumps on the stone might've scratched your skin.

You started looking for your towel, but frowned when it wasn’t where you had left it. From the corner of your eye you saw Minho, and he smiled slyly from afar, your towel resting on his shoulders.

what a bitch.

You ran after him but were quickly stopped by yet another lifeguard.

Really, really lucky you.

You were only able to read Seungmin on the back of his shirt before he turned around and frowned, and you struggled to slow down, ending up bumping onto him.

"I'm sorry, uh, I uh..." you stammered, struggling to find an excuse.

He sighed, and deadpanned at you, in his eyes a hint of mockery that didn't reach his face, and it made you even more flustered. He pointed to a sign on the wall, who said in a big, bold font, "do not run near the pool."

"You probably can swim, but can you read, dollface?"

d-dollface?

“Y-yeah, of course I can. I forgot.” You pouted.

He smirked slightly. “You forgot how to read?”

You frowned softly at the tease, and he brushed it off with one hand.

“Where were you going that was so important for you to be running?” He questioned, the sly smirk lingering on his lips, the mockery still there.

“I wanted to go to the infirmary but my friend took my towel.” You defended yourself, but a blush crept from underneath, making your cheeks pink.

The moment you said infirmary, Seungmin’s entire body language changed. The mockery wasn’t gone, but covered by a layer of innocent worry. Cute.

“To the infirmary? Why? Did something happened?” He asked softly, and it surprised you how fast his attitude had changed.

“I just scratched myself. It’s probably nothing…”

He shook his head and smiled, almost tender. “Nonsense. Can I have a look at it?”

You blushed slightly and turned so he could look at the small scratch in the back of your thigh. The area was red, and there was small even more red lines in it, but nothing too wild.

Seungmin cleared his throat. Stay focused.

“You should still put something on it. I’ll do it. Come with me.”

Crossing from where you were with Seungmin you passed by the kids’ swimming pool, and waved at Han, and who you thought was who he had mentioned, Jeongin, struggling to take care of the kids as they all ran around, fighting with the swimming noodles as they used those like swords, and you couldn’t help but smile at the mess.

Seungmin took a small radio device from his waistband, like a black walkie-talkie. “Send Changbin to area 3. Jeongin, office, 6pm.”

The youngest-looking of all the lifeguards in the building approached you two when Seungmin told you to wait while he looked for the first-aid kit.

“Hi, as you might’ve heard, my name is Jeongin. Did you get hurt?” He said, so softly you almost cooed at him because he was so cute.

“Um, I scratched the back on my thigh, yeah.” You smiled a bit, and he smiled back reassuringly.

“I hope it doesn’t sting a lot.” He added kindly, picking up his stuff from a locker. “I would stay and help you, but I assure you that if you’re in Seungmin’s care you have nothing to worry about.” He nodded, almost to himself. “He teases everyone a lot but he’s a nice guy. I… have to go now, my shift has ended. But it was nice to meet you!”

You bid him goodbye, and Seungmin came back in no time, carrying a small bag of medical supplies and a towel. He left it on the side, and opened the bag next to you, taking a small glass bottle of spray from it.

“Could you stand and turn around, please?” He asked formally.

You couldn’t help but blush when he sprayed the medicine, the slight sting making you gasp softly, but it was more because of the position you two were in, and because he held a cotton pad underneath the scratch, brushing your thigh with his hand.

Being outside of the water for so long now, you started feeling cold, shivering softly.

“Darling, can you pass me the towel?”

You blushed almost furiosly at the nickname and did as told, and he opened it and hung it on your shoulders, as you quickly took it and tightened it around you.

“Sorry, I didn’t give it to you before.” He smiled, throwing the cotton away and going back to put the first-aid kit in its place.

It was almost 7pm when the three of you got out of the changing rooms.

“That was really fun!” Felix smiled brightly.

“It was decent. Still couldn’t talk to that cutie back there. We should come back other time.” Minho stated, sounding like an order.

You blushed, thinking about what had happened in so little time.

“Yeah. We should come back soon.”

(teehee, i enjoyed this a lot! Hope you like it too! Thanks a lot, ren! <;333)

~Kats, who now would love to go to that swimming pool!

[archivxx]

I love my 🩻 anon so much for this.

Should of faxed it. {Kyle Broflovski x Reader}

✯ Genre: smut (reader is fem)(Kyle is aged up.)

✯ Relationship: unestablished, enemies.

✯ Style: One shot

✯ Context: you’ve been working in this law firm under Kyle as his assistant for longer than you can remember and it’s the most frustrating and draining job you’ve ever had.

Your legs were moving under you faster than you were aware of. At this point you may have even been running with the speed which things were going past you. You didn’t really care, if you were running then, despite the fool you were absolutely making of yourself, that’s fine. Good even. It’s probably what you needed really. You were running late. Extremely late. You needed to make it into the office as soon as possible, you could practically see your bosses face when you closed your eyes. He would not be impressed, that deep crease that occupied the space between his eyebrows sunk even deeper than usual.

There was no doubt that your boss was handsome, you even had some lingering feelings for him from when you started, however after three years of essentially being his “bitch” you had grown almost completely unattracted to him, almost, and you absolutely and wholly hated him, and he most definitely hated you too. Honestly, you were willing to argue about it for days on end, no person who respected you as a colleague would ever treat said colleague as though they’re a slave.

You burst through the glass doors of his office with his coffee mumbling an apology for the dramatic entrance and lowering your head in attempts to be less noticeable. You walked, or more so strode over to his desk in attempt to make the time you were in the room shorter, the faster you were out of there the faster you could forget about the mess that was this morning.

You placed the coffee down on the desk and turned to leave. You’d actually gotten out of the whole thing completely unscathed. You began to head for the door.

“Wait.” Shit fucker.

You slowly turned on your heel, “Can I help you, Kyle?”

“What time do you call this.” He got up from his seat and advanced towards you.

You stared at him for a long moment. What the fuck does he mean? You stared at him for a moment more, finding the right words, trying your best to not spit venom at him. “What the do you mean, “what time do you call this?” Do you realise,”—You wanted to stop, you really did but it was far too late now, he needed to hear this anyway—“the only reason I’m late is because I stood in line for almost an hour,” You began to raise your voice. “Because your picky ass can’t just have regular coffee like everyone else, noooo, you can’t because you’re Kyle Broflovski, you’re too good to drink regular coffee like other people, you have to have it done perfectly by a fucking barista that doesn’t get payed anywhere near enough to deal with shitty ass customers like you.” You took a deep breath in attempt to calm down, “So, if you must know, I’m late because of you.”

He stared at you. No, he more so bore into you. His eyes had gone dark, almost sinister. His mouth bobbed a few times. You almost cried, you couldn’t quite believe your eyes. For the first time ever, you’d rendered Kyle Broflovski completely speechless.

He was still glaring at you. You began to back up slightly, you felt like prey. With the way he was looking at you, you thought you might have actually turned into a piece of meat and Kyle was your predator.

You took in a sharp, painful breath about to apologise when Kyle took one long step towards you, almost a leap. Before you could move away from him and run for your life he had grabbed your hips and was kissing you.

You pushed him off with all your strength, with was enough you make him stumble. It was now your turn to glare, you waited for an answer.

“I’m sorry for my improperness, however, that speech right now…truly…something.” The tone of his voice was almost evil, you truly enjoyed it. Deep down you knew you wanted this. On a surface level, you knew you wanted this and it killed you to admit that you’d been thinking about thing since day one.

Not matter how much you hated Kyle that did not change the inevitable fact that he was absolutely sexy, a sexy that you had to train yourself to resist. A sexy that almost sent your silly when he would talk to you. He was sexy in a smouldering way, arguably the perfect kind of sexy.

The fact you knew you both wanted this for some odd and unexplainable reason made him all the more desirable.

It was your turn to “leap” at him. This time you actually did leap though, you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist and kissing him. He didn’t hesitate to kiss back, making his way over to his desk.

When you got to his desk, he placed you down, not exactly gently. He trapped you between his hands on the desk continuing to kiss you, not once breaking for air.

When he finally did break for air, he stared at you, you could tell by the look on his face he wanted to ask for your consent without but completely unsure of the words to use. “I give you my consent, boss.” The nickname must have really helped him as his started to make quick work of removing your clothes, slipping your pencil skirt off and letting it pool on the floor and unbuttoning your shirt at a speed you’d never seen before from anyone unbuttoning a shirt, not even ripping a button off.

He began kissing your chest, not making any move to unclasp your bra. No, instead he made work of your pants, starting off by hooking his fingers in the hem of them. He peeled them off your at a painful slow speed compared to when he had been taking off your skirt.

He stared at you, his cold eyes lingering over you for longer than you had anticipated. He was raking you in, soaking up the sight, to like you were absolutely gorgeous but at the same time an absolute beast, you had a sharp tongue and a complimentary eye for mistakes. You had called him out many times and no matter how much it pissed him off he had wanted to fuck the hatred he had for you right out of him.

He waisted no time taking off his own clothes either, disposing of his own suit on the floor.

He somewhat forcefully grabbed your thighs and pushed them open. He lined up and before you had a chance to prepare your he pushed into you, knocking every thought out of your head. You let your head roll back.

He didn’t give you much time before he was moving, driving his hips forward with a power that, for such a small framed man, shocked you. You let a whimper fall past your lips, spreading your legs as far as you could, he was hitting all the perfect spots.

It did take very long for you both be become disheveled. Your orgasm was so near that you could practically feel it. Your knees were tingling and your core was tightening. Right when you were about to grab onto that hot white heat of release that you longed for, Kyle pulled out.

He pulled out. What the fuck was he pulling this time? What an asshole.

Then, before you could protest, he pried you off the desk making you stand, turned you around and bent your over the desk, not a single word leaving his lips. You couldn’t help but feel more attracted to him in that moment, your cheeks were burning and your core tightened more.

Before you could get any answers from him, he stuffed himself back inside you, returning to his previous speed. The new angle left your feeling starstruck. He was abusing all of the parts that he needed to.

A whimper landed on your back, the small sound tickled you. He placed a kiss against your shoulder blade continuing to pound you with passion, passion that you knew was duped by hatred. As much as you both wanted the, the idea of knocking each other down to their most vulnerable state drove you more towards it. The was no denying your hatred for one another however there was also no denying your attraction to one another.

You could practically hold your orgasm in your hand. It was so close. Mere inches away. You could feel the heat bubbling up inside you, and you could feel it in him too. He was close, you could tell by the way his drive had gotten higher, he’d become rougher with you. Sharp and harsh snaps of his hips, your skin clapping together.

A longer moan left your lips as your orgasm crashed over you. That sweet release you’d been waiting for. Kyle’s hips began to stutter. Then, long white ropes painted your inside, his hips coming to a holt. He teased his head on your back tickling you with his breath.

“Fuck, Y/N.”

You couldn’t say much, in fact you couldn’t think much. When Kyle had finally regained his bearings, he pulled out, allowing his semen to ooze out of you, trying not to pay much attention too it. He redressed himself quickly while you came back to reality.

When you’d finally come back from your high, you pushed yourself off the table. You dressed yourself as quickly as your could and made your way towards the door.

“Hold on.” You turned on your heel feeling a slight sense of deja vu. “Don’t be late again.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, boss.” Asshole. And with that you stormed out of his room, trying to best to not slam the door behind you. You head straight for your office.

Bye this is sooo bad💀

[phoebified]

ooooobliiiiigaaatory sso post because new dark rider design dropped! erissa (not sure why they didnt just keep elise or change it to eris? but that's ok!), the remake of chiyo, just dropped, and... she's white! interesting. there were a lot of ways sso could've saved the dark riders fumbles. there were a LOT of those fumbles, but the one i hammered on the hardest was chiyo, because i myself am japanese, and immediately know a bad design when i see one. likewise, i'm pretty spot on with calling how that character will most likely be written, and can make a few good solid guesses. i will say, i feel lots more in common with sabine, and am against the way they designed someone i could relate to and then painted them staunchly as a villain; likewise with all the dark riders, this may be sso's most diverse group yet, and they are villains. HOWEVER. at that point, they had already put them in-game, and now all i can hope for is some good old fashioned childhood "everything ends up fine" writing that shows these characters some love and perhaps sways them from their homocidal ways.

back to erissa.

why was chiyo's design racist? well, it wasn't just her. most of the dark riders were handled poorly. to be honest, i've talked SO much on this blog about why chiyo was such a bad design that i simply don't want to rehash it. was it the worst i'd ever seen? no. but putting in those stereotypes to a game children -- WHITE children -- play is like teaching children to hit bees nests for fun. it's pointless and hurtful to everyone.

SO: what do i think of erissa? she's cute! i like this design way better than the last.

that's it. whole idea. i think the colors are more comprehensive, i like the crochet details, i think the hobby horse looks a little silly but i kinda like it. overall, i am happy.

now you're probably wondering, "what, so sso can't make non white villains!?" and the answer to that is 1. don't be stupid and 2. of course they can. but they better put just as much effort into the rest of sso. they don't, though. our only buff woman is alex, who barely counts because she's kinda small as fuck in game. that leaves Sabine, who's more buff. her character is nonwhite, visibly has arm hair, and until proven otherwise, is nonhuman. not only that, she's evil. that sends some pretty strong messages, and, side tangent, but to anyone too goofy or too stubborn to see how that's a problem, i'm excited to see how the children in YOUR family turn out, be it yours or other family member's. will YOU teach them what racism is and why it exists and the complexities of it that people scoff at that allow it to continue to exist day in and day out, or will you let them play all the other games that DONT revise their writing, where the good characters are straight and white and every other type of "normal" and the enemies are gay or nonwhite or both? anyway. i hope you see my point.

"children will experience this stuff ANYWAY!" sure. why add to it?

"oh, so you're pulling a save the children thing? so what, you want everyone to be th3 same?" no. i want them to take chiyo's design, make her clothes look better, make her default state not like a mouse, and put her in the game as sso's like. only japanese character. i'd fucking love that! do you know how little representation there is for weird japanese girls? we dont got dick or shit. it'd be so fun to have a slightly redesigned chiyo as an npc, i'd totally fucking adore that! different clothes bc i think her past design was a little. ourgh. it'd be fun and cool if they made her like, a budding emo? omg that'd resonate with so many people i'm sure, and the purple hair is already suited to it. black hair would also be cool, though. do you see what im saying here, though? context is everything. im sad sabine is a bad guy. im sad every white girl who plays this game gets someone to relate to. i guess i too really relate to and like anne, but that's where the similarities end. it's easy to say "why does race matter?" in a sea of white people if you're white, but it can get lonely playing any video game if you're not white. sso is one of the best games ive found in terms of trying to really add diversity (although im still waiting for updated fat npcs), and that's why i weighed in so heavily. it matters to me. i love this game. i think they've done so much good with it recently, i'm really just beyond impressed and in love.

i think erissa is a good design.

[kerubimcrepin]

Live-read: The Wheel of Destiny #8, Kerubim.

You can find this article on the Dofus MMO's site, by simply googling it.

A bit of context: this is an article, from the series called "Wheel of Destiny," which focuses on small character studies of various ecaflip characters from the World of Twelve. I won't be doing all of them, just the ones that interest me.

It is my decision to start with this in particular, because of the relatively small size of the article, to test out this... reading liveblogs thing. I hope it goes well, and isn't too boring.

I hate Eca so much it's unreal, just so you know.

To make it more obvious which parts are me, and which parts are the article, while you're skimming the post, I turned on my computer's night mode for making screenshots.

...My sincerest apologies to tumblr's dark mode users, though. I'm sure this is a nightmare for you.

And this is what I was talking about in the previous posts, where I said that, canonically, Kerubim's friendship with Bashi started before the Quest of Two Mornings in Episode 3, Strich Hunt.

Very sad to disappoint, but there does not actually seem to be a Croc Ness monster in the Dofus MMO.

Yet another confirmation of the temple being situated in Amakna. (Besides my own geographical estimations while watching the show, and it literally being there in the Dofus MMO.)

It's a long ass way between the temple, and the swamp, but it is realistically doable for two kids, especially if they have a carriage. (Which Kerubim, being the guy responsible for feeding Ecaflip, does have access too.)

"Five-Cat Monte" is a reference to "Three-Card Monte" which is a real thing.

Glad to know Bashi is also very normal and sane as a kid. Also, very glad that older kids, who give lessons, react to things like this by essentially going "Sure, go die I guess."

God, they are so fucking stupid. Anyway, they are talking about some real landmarks here, all of which are also around Amakna, and seem to be pretty accurate to the in-game geography.

...It feels nice to be right.

...I suppose that, despite its faults, the orphan temple actually gives a shit about its disciples not dying. Color me surprised? Eh, I'm mostly joking. It would be very weird if they didn't.

I will spoil things ahead for you: Ecaflip used magic to make Kerubim look like Atcham.

Bashi's reaction to Atcham being "AAAAH NOT THAT FUCKING CREEPY KID AGAIN 😨". The way he pretty much says, "a ghost?? NO. SOMETHING SCARIER. YOUR WEIRD FUCKING BROTHER."

It all implies., So much. It implies so much. I'm still not over it.

Pictured: my vision of how Bashi reacted to Atcham, when Kerubim (against his will, unwillingly, and deeply embarrassed) was forced to introduce them to one another.

I like to think that before they began to hate one another, Kerubim's relationship with Atcham was similar to what he had with Patafiks. Except instead of copying him, Atcham would, idk. Threaten to kill himself if he got any friend other than him? Threaten to kill his friends?

Something insane and jealousy-based like that.

I may be that guy who's very critical of Kerubim, and constantly going "Atcham's sad implied backstory this, Atcham's sad implied backstory that," but you don't get reactions like that by simply being extremely bullied.

You get reactions like that by being That Heavily Bullied Kid With 20 Mental Illnesses Who Attacks People With Sharp Objects.

Pictured: my rough theory of whatever the fuck happened between Kerubim and Atcham in the orphanage.

It is a funny image... that quickly wraps around back to being sad, once you think about little orphan Atcham, who people fucking hate for being a bingus, who has nobody except for his equally-orphaned brother (who doesn't look weird, can actually make friends, and leave him alone, if he wants to. Which he does.) and how at such a young age he got desperate enough to resort to what seems to be violence to protect himself.

Which got him absolutely no help. And also made people look down on him even further.

I think the funniest part of it all is that Atcham as an adult has:

1. The knowledge that hating Kerubim is literally not productive and a weird fucking coping mechanism.

Yet he keeps doing that.

2. A sort of moral compass that's all about protecting and respecting those in the same shit situation as him. (Even if they insult him. He hates that, but he's mature enough to uh.... just shave people against their will about it.)

While Kerubim is like. Still struggling with even saying that he doesn't even hate his brother. Somehow, he's the more emotionally constipated one.

So normal of them.

Anyway,

I think here we can see a bit of the internal growth Kerubim has had, from the time when he was a child, to adulthood.

Joris cannot picture Kerubim being ashamed, or disgusted, by Atcham, despite this article showing him doing exactly that.

It is the reason why I think one of the factors that contributed to Kerubim adopting, and keeping, Joris, was his guilt over whatever Atcham went through, despite how much he likes to say that he doesn't like Atcham.

Joris is different from other kids: small, weird, probably bald. And in any other situation, it's likely he'd develop a complex about it, except his dialogue in the movie specifically implies that Kerubim has put in conscious parenting effort into preventing exactly that.

While it's obvious that Kerubim loves Joris, there are many flaws in his parenting. So him putting a petabyte worth of effort and research into one single aspect of it is... very telling.

Now for a bit of a reach/headcanon: Who's to say that the reason Joris doesn't have many friends, is not Kerubim trying to isolate him from any potential source of shame or trauma? This part, as I've said, is purely speculation/headcanon — but it is an interesting thought.

And Atcham, who was there, and experienced shit like this from Kerubim, is still swayed by Joris's words.

What I think happened between them is that Kerubim, who yearns for societal approval, is afraid of being like Atcham, who is often ostracized and disliked by people for his looks. Besides this, I think Atcham, who was Going Through Horrors, was clingy.

For these reasons, he pushed Atcham away, and it is this betrayal, coupled with Kerubim's advantages in the form of not looking weird and being Ecaflip's favorite, that made Atcham fucking detest him.

What it all means is that Joris isn't necessarily wrong: Kerubim wouldn't hurt Atcham (at least, not unless it's self defense), and what he did was just... trying to save his own skin as kid.

Which isn't exactly malicious.

And I guess Atcham agrees with Joris on Kerubim's incapability of doing harm to him on purpose. Otherwise, he would never be convinced to change his mind.

There is probably a reason for why Kerubim would rather live in a forest, than go back to the temple looking like Atcham. And as I've said, I don't think it's a happy one.

Now think about Atcham doing this his whole life and get sad. Like I just did.

I think that, of all the things, it's most disgusting that whatever happened to Kerubim and Atcham was happening under the watch of Ecaflip, and perhaps even because of him.

I wouldn't put it past him to orchestrate their hatred for each other for fun. Or because he wanted Kerubim all alone, to himself.

I also find it interesting, the way Ecaflip says "once more" here. Implies that it used to be a normal thing for him. I suppose my guesses of Kerubim being disliked by other kids due to Atcham may have some merit.

And god, it makes me so, so sad.

He cares enough to intervene when Kerubim is about to die, which goes against his own rules, but not when it's about his kids' life being fucking awful.

...Maybe Oropo was right.

Do we know if Ecaflip's emotions are even genuine? He is the narrator of this story, after all, and he could be lying. He puts Kerubim in danger many times. Many. Just for fun and his own amusement.

I will take Ecaflip's narration as a straight-forward one, — that he really is feeling these things, but it still reads as manipulation, even if he is doing it for "Kerubim's sake". He's not a good father and never will be one, and these are very cruel lessons.

I will be real, their relationship disgusts me to my heart <3 Amen.

And now we know why Kerubim is... like that. And why his parenting is so overbearingly sweet, controlling, and obsessed with making sure Joris knows he adores him and adores him back.

Perhaps, despite everything, Atcham was the luckier one for not having Ecaflip's "love" the way Kerubim did, but honestly, I feel both of them had it equally shitty.

A true "would you rather sit on an anthill or sit on a cactus" choice.

[delinquentbookworm]

howww about ❄️ & 🌤️

Oh thank you so much! Okay so a snippet from a WIP of my choosing and some dialogue. I'm just gonna do one that covers both of these because the first bit I picked is pretty long.

This is from a fic that I started writing when I got sick a couple weeks ago and decided to project how I was feeling onto Jace. The context is that Jace has called out of work but there isn't a substitute sorcery teacher available. Porter, who at this point is still nothing more than a coworker, draws the short straw and ends up being the person who has to go heal Jace and drag him into work before one of his students burns the school down.

This snippet is Porter having just arrived at Jace's place and calling him on the phone to be let in, while Jace is half-asleep and feverish and has no idea what's going on.

“Hey, Stardiamond. Aguefort said you weren't feeling well and he asked me to come heal you. I'm outside now. Tried knocking but you didn't answer.”  A voice says through the darkness, vaguely familiar, deep and rumbling. And, oh, wouldn't that be nice if it was true? Arthur Aguefort actually giving a shit about him, sending someone to make sure he’s okay. It’s never happened before, Jace can't see why it would start now. A pleasant dream, nonetheless. “Mmm, that’s nice of him. An’ who’s this?” Jace slurs out. “It's Porter.” Even in his delirious state, Jace recognises that this is a nonsense premise. Porter is the barbarian teacher. He doesn't have healing powers, doesn't have any kind of magic. Jace isn't about to turn it down, though. A healing-fantasy-slash-sex-dream about the hulking, brutish barbarian he ogles in the teacher's lounge sounds far better than the strange nightmares that plagued him all last night.  “Oh, hi Porter,” Jace lets his voice turn flirtatious, or at least, as flirtatious as he can considering how much he’s struggling with his words. “You've - you've come to kiss me an' make me all better, huh?” There’s a bark of laughter, and Jace feels vaguely offended (is he being rejected in his own fantasy?) before Porter's low, gravelly voice returns. “Yeah, something like that. I need you to come let me in, though. Your front door's locked.” “Not very barbarian of you. Jus' break it down.” Jace moans a little at the thought of Porter wanting him so badly that he kicks the door clean off its hinges. “Gods, you sound fucking delirious. No, I'm not gonna break your door down. You're gonna have to come open it."

"I don't think I can get up," Jace whines. His whole body aches terribly, and every part of him just feels so heavy.

"For fuck's sake. Alright, have you got a spare key hidden somewhere? In a fake rock or something?” Jace pouts. Why is his damn mind so focused on logistics, why can't it just skip straight to the good bit? “No, don't need it. I've got Knock if I ever forget mine. It's fine, if you can suddenly have healing powers - and fuckin' telepathy, apparently - you can have teleportation too. It doesn't have to make sense."   “What? I'm a paladin, that's why I can heal. I don't have any teleportation shit. Or telepathy. What are you talking about?" Porter asks, sounding frustrated. That makes two of them. “Okay, fine, you can be a paladin. Still doesn't matter how you get in. Break in if you want, it'll fix itself when I wake up." There's a brief pause before Porter speaks again, amusement seeping into his words as he asks, “Stardiamond... You do know this is real, right?" “Uh huh. Yeah. I'm sure you're very real.” Jace says placatingly, in the tone he always takes when a martial class thinks he’s insulting them. (In fairness to them, they're usually right.) “Real an' big an' strong an' handsome. Just, just waiting to have your way with me while I'm all weak and helpless. Can't even cast spells right now, 'm totally at your mercy." “Fucking hell." Porter's voice sounds a little thicker than it did a minute ago, a bit gruffer. "Don't get too excited, sweetheart. I'm here to heal you. That's it."

(Eventually Porter checks the back door, finds it unlocked, and manages to get inside to cast Lesser Restoration on Jace, who is absolutely mortified at everything he's said, and spends the next few weeks avoiding Porter. Or at least, that's what I've currently got plotted out, idk, that might change.)

[tiddiesoutwhenthetisout]

recent doodles (in between losing our shit in overcooked so we don't actually lose it)

random bulshit incoming

Pyrhhus

context: we have what we call our own "fanon pyrrhus" based on the idea that he is "an achilles without a patroclus". we play this super random game where we make a story, leave blanks for characters, then randomize. the storyteller improvises depending on these, and what happened was... the demon lord hector was being attacked by pyrrhus, took one look and said "yk what, i'll adopt you. i'm done being a demon lord (because the party sucked so hard he didn't think it was worth it). let's go back to my wife and kid."

and for the first time pyrrhus felt genuine love and care and went from the snarling boy (bottom right) to the cutie on the left. and in our succeeding games he has dissociative identity disorder as a running gag. he turns feral when he feels threatened (words said, things seen, etc.) but generally he's a really sweet guy especially when he has granny (thetis), but a father figure whether isolated or not is essential lest he's just feral.

in one story, his father threw him into the dungeon (yes it's achilles) because he didn't want the child. so little pyrrhus had to eat monsters to survive. his grandfather peleus turns out to be the leader of an orc gang hanging out in there so at least he has a sweet side, but they don't live together because pyrrhus is rebellious and defensive with his autonomy and capability. also, this one plot definitely wasn't a crack rework of dungeon meshi lol-

then here's ANOTHER redesign of

Patroclus

because i can't get him right orz. the "looks like heracles" thing was because he resembled my image of heracles before i tried to salvage his hair. i couldn't erase anything bc we did not have an eraser lmao. i think this will finally work, but i just have to tuck that stray lock of hair away from his face next time. also, i'll attempt facial hair again but in smaller amounts (i put stubble on him in the next pic). i'm just incapable of drawing more "masculine" features rn but i'll practice at some point... 💀

that's achilles below patroclus. the dark left eye was an accident, but honestly it *would* be interesting if he had one pitch black iris from his mother and the other green is from wherever the fuck he got it. i took the headband thing from his hades design too hahaha (idk my ancient greek culture okay)

also, yes, they do have matching ear piercings. i might try to digitalize these again later on when i'm in the mood.

i have to learn how to cartoonize stubble oops

also, curly/wavy hair is so fun to draw with these simple shapes, huh : 0 i'm the type of person to draw hair with fine strands except when i'm deliberately aiming for that anime style (i just want to learn how to color like them help).

i was going to yap about the stories we've done so far but i realized maybe i should turn that into an entire new post. or maybe draw stuff for them 🤣

also, like DnD this game would probably be fun with a lot of people. you could do this for any fandom too so that's the best part of it.

[barleyo]

Genuine question (if it's not too personal for you to answer) what got you so into incest? I found you through tt but it's been a min since I've been on there so idk if you've ever told your story. For me personally I've dealt w sexual abuse/assault from my brother & I think that's why ur writing doesn't bother me as much as it would if that hadn't of happened to me. But I'm also sure there's plenty of people interested in this content with out it being trauma related so I was just curious about your "inspiration" I suppose.

cw: incest, rant, kinda long ramble under the cut

Honestly, I don't mind answering because I am a HUUUUGE oversharer, I'm actually glad you asked because maybe if I answer, people will get off my dick about it :3 I am also a victim of incest! For three years I was sexually abused and repeatedly raped by my older cousin (him being 13 to 16 and me being 8 to 11). COCSA, or child on child sexual assault, is a tricky thing to deal with for me, and personally, it left me with more guilt and confusing feelings as opposed to the sexual abuse and grooming I've faced from adults. Especially because it happened via someone I was related to. I think a reason why it manifested into this dark interest is because I only recently told my mother what happened, which gave my mind time to twist it around and make it something sexual. I enjoy writing about it because, for me, placing it in a fictional context makes me feel like I have more control over the situation, and helps me ease the constant itch in my brain that is just dying to replay the scene of me being sexually violated over and over again. I can, in a weird way, replace what happened with my cousin with silly little sexy stories with fictional characters; it gives me peace of mind to turn something bad into something "good," i.e, a story. It gives me a creative way to siphon all of the trauma leaking out of my brain and make it something partially useful to other people.

I actually don't mind when people who haven't been victims of incest or other awful things enjoy dark content that uses those themes! I think it's human nature to enjoy the taboo, and even have a bit of an obsession with it. Our brains, in the modern day, are so obsessed with being politically/socially/emotionally correct that we stop ourselves from enjoying the dirtiest, most perverted things that we know we truly want to indulge in, even when we're alone! People can enjoy what they want. The beautiful part of being online is anonymity. If you want to read about parents fucking nasty with their (adult) kids, you can totally do that with no real-life consequences because it is online, not-real, fictional, made-up, make-believe, and pretend (all in that order.) If you want to call anyone who indulges in these communities and reads this shit awful people, guess what? You totally can! Because this is the internet and everyone gets to have an opinion, spread their agenda, and say what they want, for better or for worse.

I hate to use this excuse, because truly, I understand that words hurt, but what I'm writing and what people are reading is all fiction! I certainly don't, and I hope most people who enjoy the incest/cnc/ddlg communities don't actually want to fuck their relatives or be raped.

Saying all of that, I'm going to continue to write nasty, depraved, incestous, rape-centered smut, because at the end of the day, that's what I want to do on my blog, and it's what makes me happy.

Thank you for asking. I'll be happy to answer any other questions that anybody has, even if they're hateful <3

[mothsgotghosts]

Soapghost Tangled Au

LOOK. I'm certain I'm not the first person to think about this but I Don't Care. This blog is basically just me saying shit about cod to the void anyway and talking like a bunch of people will see it lmao. THIS IS GONNA BE LONG AS FUCK BTW.

Also this shit is gonna feature some good old fashioned nikprice and alerudy and my several headcanons, a few of which I will share for context: First of all, almost everyone is trans in my mind, I won't lie to you. But mostly that's not relevant to the plot besides Soap and Nik are both trans men. Also Ghost is transfem and that's not super relevant but I will be using mostly she/her for her (I hc her using she/her and he/him pronouns) so be prepared. OKAY GOOD This is just gonna be me rambling my ideas in a bulleted list hopefully in the order of the plot.

The story sticks fairly close to the actual movie plot, once upon a time there was a magic flower yadda yadda. Anyway Old Man Shepherd wants to be eternally young yeah

Meanwhile the kings (Price and Nik) are like "let's have another kid", I say another bc Gaz is here also he's adopted <3, and seahorse dad Nik is real, okay great (DO NOT TURN THIS INTO OMEGAVERSE SHIT. HE'S TRANS. A TRANS PARENT.)

Anyway uh oh Nik gets sick (haha rhyme) and Price is like "go get that flower so my husband doesn't DIE thanks), Shepherd is pissed, steals their baby with magic hair

That baby with magic hair is Soap! Who is raised by Shepherd, everyone's favorite (least favorite) manipulative piece of shit!

Some background info on Soap's childhood, it wasn't great being locked in a tower and also. Soap is trans in this (as I've said), he's just gnc, but the long hair. Eehh. Not something he super loves but Shepherd won't let him cut it, obviously. The mohawk was a compromise (yes I know the hair lore but I want him to have a mohawk so shh)

Anyway Soap's 20-something birthday rolls around and he tries to ask Shepherd to go see the glowing lights, Shepherd says no, they argue, Soap asks for paint instead, Shepherd leaves to go get it

Meanwhile Ghost and Graves are robbing the fucking castle and steal the lost prince's crown, Ghost leaves Graves to get caught by the royal guard and then gets chased by a horse named Riley for a while before ditching him and climbing into an abandoned tower, and gets hit with a frying pan

Again, the story continues fairly the same. John makes a deal with this stranger in a skull mask to take him to see the floating lights, the lanterns apparently, and he'll give her her satchel back, Ghost begrudgingly agrees.

Ghost then takes Soap to get some food to convince him to go home and call off the deal, and she takes him to Los Vaqueros Saloon, run by two outlaw husbands and frequented by loads of criminals and bounty hunters

In case it wasn't obvious, Alejandro and Rudy own the saloon. Its patrons are made up of various different operators + Valeria (who IS an operator now but still).

Poor Soap is terrified bc Shepherd told him all people, esp ones like these, are bad news and then a bunch of guys lunge on Ghost to get her bounty and send someone out to go find some guards. Soap stops them, I've Got A Dream happens. Alejandro wants to be a pianist, good for him :)

Meanwhile Shepherd returns, sees Soap is gone, and rolls up right as Soap is saying how glad he is he left and gets pissed

Then the royal guard show up and Rudy and Alejandro help them escape and then call Ghost's dream stupid.

"Go follow your dream, hermano." "I will." "He was talking to him, your dream is stupid."

They get cornered by Graves, the royal guard, and Riley, escape and then get trapped in a cave and nearly drown. Ghost cuts her hand trying to pry away some rocks but it's too dark underwater for her to see. They both think they're gonna die so Ghost tells Soap her real name.

"my real name is Simon Riley. Somebody might as well know." "I have magic hair that glows when I sing." "....what?" "OH MY GOD- I HAVE MAGIC HAIR THAT GLOWS WHEN I SING!!!"

John's good old magic hair saves the day, they escape, they find a clearing to camp out in for the night and Soap uses his hair to heal the cut on Simon's hand, Simon freaks out a little bit it's fine, she's fine

John then asks why Simon changed her name to Ghost, Simon says it's a boring story but John listens anyway. She talks about her father and her brother taunting her with ghosts and skeletons, and when they died it stuck with her. She decided to become a ghost.

Simon asks about John's hair, he tells her that his "father" keeps him in that tower to protect him from people who want to steal his hair, shows her the tiny little brown strand that never grew back and says people want to use him for his hair's healing abilities, it's how he got the big scar on his chin.

Simon leaves to get firewood, and Shepherd emerges from the fucking shadows like a creature and tells Soap to come home with him, to which Soap says no because he Likes Simon, and she's gonna take him to see the lanterns, and she's nice!! Shepherd gets mad, tosses him the satchel and says to give it to Simon and see what she does, that he'll be sorry when she runs away with it, and then leaves

Simon comes back and Soap lies and says everything is fine. Shepherd runs into Graves who wants to kill Simon and makes a deal with him

Then morning rolls around and Simon is awoken by RILEY THE FUCKING HORSE, Soap convinces Riley to be nice and let Simon go for one day because "it's my birthday :)" and she's supposed to take him to see the lanterns

They make their way into town and Simon immediately is like "okay yeah your hair is too long" because people keep stepping on it and gets some kids to braid it. John looks very handsome, Simon is very queer, they run off and have a good time enjoying the town square and all the festivities

At some point Soap notices a mural of the royal family, with a certain golden haired baby that looks very familiar, but quickly brushes it off to dance with the townsfolk and Simon

Then it's time to see the lights! Yay! Simon gets a boat for him and John, tosses Riley a bag of apples that he Definitely Paid For, Okay...Or Mostly Paid For.

I See the Light happens, John gives Simon the satchel and Simon pushes it aside in favor of taking off her mask, just for John.

"but I'm not scared anymore, ye know?" "I think I'm starting to."

AND THEN HE TAKES THE MASK OFF AND. sometimes, I am a genius. Anyway, they get back to shore and Simon sees Graves and is like "I promise I'll be right back" and goes off to just give him the satchel, he doesn't want it anymore he just wants to be done with all this criminal shit, mainly for Johnny.

Graves instead is like "what if I took that magic hair guy instead" and knocks his ass out and ties her to a boat then goes to snatch Soap. Shepherd shows up AGAIN and knocks Graves out like "oh look son I saved you!" And Soap sees the boat with Simon on it, thinks she left him, and goes back with Shepherd

Simon wakes up TIED TO A BOAT WITH THE FUCKING CROWN HE STOLE AND GETS ARRESTED

Graves also gets arrested and Simon freaks out on him when passing him being led to his cell, Graves says that some weird guy showed up and took Soap back home and Simon is locked in her cell

Meanwhile back at the tower, Soap is laying in his bed all sad bc his gf left him, when he realizes the sun crest on the little flag Simon got him at the festival matches suns he's been subconsciously painting for YEARS, that when he tried on that crown Simon stole it fit, that that baby on that mural WAS HIM, that BRO HE IS THE LOST PRINCE.

Then he yells at Shepherd for stealing him away and Shepherd is like "okay fuck you" and plans to lock him up forever

Meanwhile, Simon gets broken out of prison by two cowboys and their gaggle of thieves and bounty hunters and a horse named Riley. Riley takes him to the tower where he climbs up and gets stabbed by Shepherd after seeing Soap LITERALLY CHAINED TO A WALL.

John begs Shepherd to let him heal her, that he'll go with him quietly and never complain if he does and Shepherd agrees and chains Simon up too so he can't follow them. Soap goes to heal her and Simon slices off a bunch of his hair. Shepherd rapidly ages and falls out of the window and dies, L moment. Simon dies too tho, sad.

For real though, "You were my new dream" "And you were mine" fucks me up every time. Anyway, Simon dies, Soap's magic tears of love or something brings her back to life.

"Did I ever mention...I like brunettes" "PFF- YER AN ARSEHOLE!" "Sorry Johnny, there can only be one blonde person in this relationship!"

Anyway happily ever after and all that, Soap gets to reunite w his long lost fathers and brother.

Look idk how they recognize him okay. Father's intuition? Blue eyes? The big fat scar on his chin that wasn't ACTUALLY from someone stealing Soap (he was a stupid baby)? Idk could be any or all of those.

THE END!!!!!! Thank you to those who sat here and read ALL of this <3 big preesh! Okay idk how to end this so bye

[rise-my-angel]

Robb’s like you call her your lady wife yet fuck her out here like a common whore.

Jon’s like at least it’s better than an army camp with my mother listening

Or

jon’s like i heard her from your chambers to mine, maybe treat her like you love her for once

Robb’s like I’m not the one who got her pregnant and risking her life.

Jon’s yelling she got killed in YOUR war brother but robb’s walking away

Im gonna be honest I've read this like 5 times and I'm still laughing. The accuracy? The pettiness?? The way they call each other out like total fucking hypocrites with no self awareness over it???

Robb's like, "You fuck her out in the open as if you're in a brothel. Isn't she your Queen now, do you have no respect? You can't even close your window, everyone can hear you two at night just outside your window. I never treated her like a whore."

"No, you just call her one."

"That's without context, Snow. Shut the fuck up. Maybe if you talked like that to her once in a while, she wouldn't have to come crawling to me the next night begging to have fun. And what the fuck is with the bruises, are you beating her or what?"

Just will rip into Jon for how often Jon fucks you so roughly where anyone can see or walk in on, because Robb absolutely hates the idea of people seeing you that way.

The second Jons like "Maybe treat her like you love her for once." It turns into blood sports all over again. Jon just says this while seething because he hates when he has to hear you with Robb because he has such a dark clawing need to burst in and steal you from Robb himself. (He cannot tell Tormund about those thoughts he'd never hear the end of the jokes about how much he's turned his little crow into a wildling finally).

Meanwhile Robb rips into Jon for shit that is not at all his fault, like taking you North while pregnant, for the incident in Moat Cailin with the Brotherhood, for the time you were attacked in the Nightfort by a wight. Just tears him a new one for all of that.

Jon is just like "She was murdered fighting your war, what are you talking about?" Robb isn't listening though, he's too busy listing off the ways Jon has not protected you properly, as if Robb didn't watch you get stabbed to death in front of his eyes.

Jon gets him triple. First with the fact that your father thinks of Jon like a son, and all he did was scold and talk shit towards Robb when he was the one who married you to him. Second that he's the one with the experiance and the Valyrian Steel sword that can protect you from the coming winter. Then hammers the final nail like, "Me and her are bonded for life, she brought me back from the dead. The old gods know we belong together."

Robb just hits him like, "Yeah, well I still fucked her in my bed for her first time. I'll always be the one who took her maidenhood and had her begging for me to do it, too."

Meanwhile you have hidden away in Theons chambers like old times, telling Olly if either of them come looking for you, then they have to find you themselves, and no using the direwolves to sniff you out, thats cheating. They never guess Theons chambers for so long, because they assume you wouldn't want to hang out in the room Theon used to annoy the shit out of you by loudly fucking so many women in. Which is why you hide out there.

"If they are at each others throats long enough while we're hiding here, then maybe for once I can go to sleep without passing out from exhaustion."

Theon just stares at you in an amused disbelief. "How'd a prude like you grow up to get so much dick?"

If you didn't need five goddamn minutes away from their possessive arguing, you'd have left then and there but only because you know Theons right. You didn't know what sex was until you were almost thirteen, how did this become your life?

[asheronangel]

Share more dreams ₍ >ヮ<₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ

(sorry this is late lol)

this jumpscared me i didn't actually expect anyone to ask (or at least not so soon)

uhmmm okay the dream i had before the one i shared:

i feel like some context of what the dream was before it was sonic-the-hedgehog related is necessary

i was playing minecraft in some sort of timed building competition with one other person as a partner. they so far had built like this. metal tunnel system? with giant tunnels. and big vault like doors.

and i was trying to build water gushing into the tunnels (which failed miserably because 1. i didn't know how and 2. there was only a few seconds left)

this then turned to the building being the actual setting, (goodbye minecraft) and actual water flowing into the enclosed tunnel system. and i had been replaced by sonic.

sonic looked at the water and was kinda like "well shit that's not good!" and runs off into the tunnels

i believe he meets up with amy, tails, knuckles, rouge, and shadow? im not sure if amy, tails, and knuckles were ever actually shown in my dream but they were implied to be there. shadow wasn't even implied but he had to have been there for later events. (no idea what omega was doing though so we only got 2/3rds of team dark)

and it wasn't actually shown but it was implied that they had tried but were unable to find or break a way out

and the group finds this uhhh vault. single room with an open door. and they flock into it panicked calling other people in because yknow the tunnels are flooding and they want to get everyone in and seal the door. (my brain is saying there were humans/not sonic characters/civilians here too so??)

and i vaguely remember sonic being there at said vault but he runs off and they shut the door without him??? so??? R.I.P. sonic the hedgehog??/

anyway in the vault they all sit there not very happy about it worried how they're gonna get out. (the non-sonic characters continue to be implied to be here)

and then this like. spaceship sort of thing. appears. and humans come out. and they're like "we're inter-dimensional multiverse traveller people and we're gonna help you out"

so they get people on to their spaceship

but then?? they arrest shadow??/ well not really arrest but that's basically what happened. and shadow just??? goes along with it???

rouge and vaguely-other-people protest and i believe are held back by some of the uhh multiverse people. and they're like "what are you doing??/? you said you wanted to help us???"

and i believe a girl says "we said we would help all living people here, but shadow is not living." (they never actually said "we're here to help every living person" or anything along those lines before this but shhh it's a dream who needs continuity)

and it was implied that 1. they were right?? and 2. it had something to do with the black arms as a species and him being an artificial life form

yeah and then i woke up

it doesn't. really make sense? i'm thinking uhh maybe sonic ran off to help some people? and he and some others got stuck in the water. and they got taken into a smaller spaceship and zapped away. which is why 1. shadow goes along with it and 2. they only protest they don't actually fight them? because there are people that are completely at the mercy of these strangers

idk i think that might explain some things in the dream

anyway uhh THANK YOU for sending an ask!! and thank you if you read all of this-