#feel free to use these just credit me or somethin

[sparkling-opal]

la creatura (x2)

[katyawooga]

pLEASE sevika x idol/singer reader? :( I WANNWA DO THOSE CUTE DANCES INFORNT OF SEVIKA TO GET HER REACITON AEAEHAHAUAUUUAUAUAUAUAU

oh my gosh anon this is so cute!!! :3

men and minors DNI pretty pleaseee

also let's pretend the meeting at the vander statue didn't end in attacks from noxus for the purpose of this ask 😊 i started writing this when act 2 came out so imagine this is in between act 2 and 3

to absolutely no one's knowledge, sevika was a superfan of yours. zaun had very few 'celebrities' of sorts, but you, a breakout singer that used to be a girl-for-hire at margot's, had made a name for yourself.

you regularly held gigs around the undercity, most frequently on the roof of the chembarons' little lair at the very peaks of the underground. ever since silco shoved off, you've been able to spot his number two in the front row at nearly all of your shows.

the riots going on recently because of the colourful spectacle topside had temporarily paused your gigs, but that didn't stop you from supporting zaun and doing pop-ups to raise morale. sevika herself somehow got your contact and convinced you to come to a rally near the vander statue. you were excited to be apart of something so directly involved with jinx and protesting. you wore jinx-er attire and even brought flares for the audience.

"come onnn, shoot faster!"

you had also gotten jinx herself on stage with you. she happened to be a big fan of yours and one of the reasons sevika reached out for this gig. you sang jinx's favourite song together with the crowd bumping. her presence made the attendance a lot bigger and the atmosphere a whole lot more exciting.

"just a little bit of energy, yeah!"

you spotted sevika in her usual front row spot, admiring your act and jinx for finally getting out of her lair. sevika was holding the hand of a small blue-haired girl jumping around like a maniac watching jinx. it was a sweet sight, especially since they were both mouthing along the words of the song and sevika dancing a little with the girl hanging off her mechanical arm.

"i wanna try somethin' fun right now!"

the crowd set off their flares of blue and the scene was clouded with aqua while you and jinx continued to sing and entertain.

"i guess some people call it anarchy!"

—

after your numbers were over, you thanked the crowd, thanked jinx, and thanked sevika for planning it all and giving her credit where it was due. she was a little bashful but it made her all the more authentic to you.

"this was really fun!" you approached sevika once she had pawned off the small girl to jinx, the two of them giggling together. "i'd love to show more spots like this. i've never seen zaun so pumped up."

"you were great. you and jinx really hit it off on stage, the people loved you two."

it was your first real conversation with the left hand of zaun and it was a little silly how starstruck you were. she was a bigger fan of yours and you were the actual pop star here.

"i saw that you loved us too," you poked a little fun with her. "knowing all the lyrics, dancing along..."

she, of all people, got flustered and scoffed, waving off your words. she had a good time watching your act, just like she always did, but someone actually noticing it for once kind of embarrassed her.

"well, if ever you wanna see a little shimmy from me again, don't hesitate to reach out for a gig. with how much jinx, the kid, and i love your act, zaun'll be in the clouds with how high you've lifted our spirits."

parting ways with sevika and waving goodbye to jinx and (seemingly) her younger sister, you couldn't help but feel giddy. the most revered and loyal person in zaun was a fan of yours, she wanted to keep spotting your act, and now you had jinx as a wingwoman on stage. you never thought life could get any better as a little singer from the underground.

i'm sooooo sorry this took me so long But i am back to getting requests and asks written since i'm on break now :) feel free to send some!

[training4theapocalypse]

PLEASE do what Scots actually say I’m so curious

Soap x Reader Scottish Dialogue Inspo

To celebrate Burns Night, here are some realistic smutty Scottish terms and some general stuff to do with relationships. Feel free to use this if you find it helpful 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

Disclaimer: my tiny country is made up of countless accents and Soap is canonically from Kilmarnock but his voice actor is from Elgin so who TF knows what he’d actually say.

I also don’t think you need to write in Scots either - I’m Scottish and I don’t (unless am absolutely ragin aboot somethin’) but I can see why you’d want to for Soap’s dialogue. 

Behave yersel’

This is easy - it’s just ‘behave yourself’ but it can be used as a smutty admonishment.

“I’ll sleep on the couch - you take the bed.”

“Behave yersel’,” says Soap, unfastening his belt.

Bonny / Bonnie

Spell it whichever way you like. This is primarily an adjective but I see it used as a noun in fic. All. The. Time. It was used a long time ago as a noun - and maybe it still is further north - but where I / Soap are from it's really only used as an adjective these days.

“What do you think of the new recruit, Captain?”

“Aye, she’s bonny, awryt.”

But use this sparingly - and only to describe a person as a whole and not individual body parts. (e.g. you wouldn’t say “Your tits are so bonny.”) 

Darlin’ / Doll

The two most common pet names I hear from men here. It is ROUGH as anything and makes me melt. Ughhhh. 🥵

“D’ye like whit ye see, doll?”

Fuckin’ hell

An exclamation that’s pretty ubiquitous across the UK. Soap would 100% say this after sex or if he was surprised by something that made him horny. From clips of Soap I’ve seen I know he says “Steamin’ hell” too but I’ve never heard this IRL.

You sit in Soap’s office, perched on his desk wearing your new lingerie.

He opens the door and freezes, jaw on the floor.

“… Fuckin’ hell.”

Gads 

This is a very specific Kilmarnock / Ayrshire thing (which is where Soap’s file says he’s from). And it comes from a very old-timey phrase ‘egads!’ which is hilarious to me.

Gads can be used as an exclamation for something shocking (OR something cringe depending on the context).

“You honestly think that I snuck into your room because my bed was uncomfortable? I want you to fuck me, Soap.”

He swallows. “... Gads.” 

Gantin’ for it

AKA Gagging for it. Juvenile way to describe being horny. Soap would probably say this about himself in a jokey way. 

“You alright, Soap?”

“Aye, aye. I’ve just been gantin’ for it ever since that new lassie joined.”

Lassie / Lass

Girl. Younger. (Pop off age difference fics)

Missus

Literally “Mrs” but surprisingly not just used to refer to your wife. Really commonly used to refer to a girlfriend.

“Look, whatever the missus wants she gets. Awryt?”

Wee (insert expletive)

Literally call me whatever you want as long as you put ‘wee’ in front of it. Wee bitch, wee slag, wee slut (omggggggg). 

Soap tuts, as you writhe against his thigh. “Yer an impatient wee thing, aren’t ye?”

Anyway, that's all I've got for now- if I think of any more, I'll add to this. You don't need to credit me if you actually use this - I like to think of it as service to my country 🫡

P.S. This made me realise I've only ever had sex with Scottish people so maybe some of this is just normal sex stuff and not Scotland specific???? HAHAHAHA

P.P.S. I was getting really into the dialogue so I've written a short fic about Reader x Soap.

[runningfrom2am]

one day (w.h.b)

summary: you and billy talk about what happens when you die.

pairing: william h. bonney (billy the kid) x fem!reader

wc: 3k

tags/warnings: non-descript and brief mention of implied suicide (nothing graphic i swear), other than that its pretty chill honestly, kinda sad but also happy at the end but mostly fluff and honestly pretty cute.

requests (currently closed- feel free to send whatever but it will be a while before I get to them! i do love to answer little things and hc's about my fics tho so if you want to talk ab this pls also drop it in the box!)

nav / billy the kid masterlist

a/n: credit to @goosita for getting my mind reeling on the concept of ghost!billy! this has been living in my mind and in my drafts for months omg

The hoofbeats of your horse underneath you set the pace for the steady rock of your hips as you make your way across the countryside on an unmarked trail Billy had memorized. One town to the next, just like always. On the run from something new that didn't really matter much to you as long as he was still by your side.

"Your name is pickin' up a lot of attention these days." You comment mindlessly, disrupting the peace of the night.

Billy makes a small sound of acknowledgment, clearly not pleased by that fact but unwilling to deny its truth.

"You know, I don't know what I'd do without ya." You add after a moments quiet, filled only by the crickets and steady slow hoofbeats beneath you. "If they got what they wanted, I mean."

"I dunno." Billy shrugs, voice slightly grim. He didn't even want to think about it; not for the sake of his own death, but god, whatever would end up happening to you.

"I'd follow you, I think." You say quietly, looking up at the stars.

He quickly shakes his head, expression tightening further. "Don't say that."

"You may not like it but it's true." You argue gently. "I ain't got much else to do here. What would I do, wander the west like now but all alone, sad and mopin' and waiting on the day death comes for me so I can see you again? I think I'll pass."

"Well there's not much use in you wandering around mopin', you gotta... I don't know, go out for trail rides, find some good friends. Hell, maybe settle down and get married." He suggests with a slight laugh.

You look over at him, raising an eyebrow with a slightly smug smile. "We both know that ain't ever gonna happen. So you see what I mean, then. I just decided to... skip the mopin' part."

Billy gives you a deadpan look, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. "Oh, so you're just takin' the efficiency route, is that it?" he quips, his tone laced with annoyance. "No more mopin', straight to the grave with ya."

"Yes." You nod, and after a moment a small smile pulls at your lips. He was upset, of course he would be, but you know he won't stay mad at you for long. "You know, it would be real romantic, I think. Sharin' a grave. We could just be cuddled up forever; I can't think of anything better. Of a better way to go. Can you?"

"I can think of somethin' better," Billy mutters in response, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not havin' to share a grave until we're both old and grey, and dyin' peacefully in our sleep. That'd be a hell of a lot better, darlin'."

"It would." You agree, smiling over at him. "And when the time comes I'll rest easy. But, ah... the life we live..." You shake your head slightly, looking down at the worn leather of the saddle under your thighs that has served you well for most of your life.

"You're somethin' else, you know that?" he says, his tone affectionately exasperated. "You had this whole... plan all figured out, and you were just gonna go with it without even complainin'? Not a care in the world, just ready to join me in a premature grave."

"Yeah." You answer softly, smiling as you look over at him in the dim light your eyes have well adjusted to. "I love you, Billy. I'd do anything for you."

Billy's expression softens further, and he gives you a weary smile. "I know you would, darlin'," he says quietly. "And I love you too. More than words can say. I just..." He sighs, shaking his head slightly. "I just don't want you givin' up on your whole life if somethin' happens to me. I ain't worth you sacrificing everything, love."

"If I had anything left to sacrifice, you would absolutely be worth it." You tell him, shaking your head. "But it doesn't matter, because I don't. I've got nothin' except the very thinly veiled hope that maybe one day I might be happy again without you. And that... I don't feel good about those odds."

Billy's heart clenches in his chest, a pang of pain and sympathy filling his chest and his heart in a way that makes him feel stiff all over. "Darlin'... you gotta know that ain't true," he protests, his tone earnest. "You're smart and beautiful and kind. You could have a good life, with or without me. You just gotta-" But he falters, realizing he's not convincing you. His expression falls with a sigh.

"Those are all real nice things to say, and I appreciate it." You tell him genuinely, smiling sadly at him. "But think of it this way, it doesn't matter much now, does it? We got you out of the jailhouse for now, so we hopefully got a long time before death comes for us. And god forbid it does come early, I'll still be a young and pretty ghost, that would be nice, wouldn't it? I dunno what I'm gonna look like when I'm old, but I've had older ladies tell me I'm gonna wish I looked like this forever. If I was a ghost, I could." You say cheerily, trying to make him feel a little better about it.

Billy can't help but chuckle at your response, shaking his head at the audacity. "Only you would look at bein' a ghost as a positive thing, darlin'," he teases, his tone affectionate. "Most folks would find that pretty darn scary, you know. But then again, most folks ain't you."

"Well, I picture that we would look just about the same. Maybe a little pale, like that time we both had the flu last year." You giggle, looking over at him again and ignoring his secondary comment. "But everything else would be pretty much the same. We could read ghost books and dance to ghost music and just be together without fear of losin' each other ever. I think it would be kinda sweet."

"You make bein' dead sound like a walk in the park," he teases. "Like it ain't nothin'. Just floatin' around as spirits, listenin' to ghost music and readin' ghost books. Maybe playin' some ghost cards, even."

"Ghost cards!" You grin, pleased that he was going along with it. "You think the ghost cards are transparent like we would be? Would make it kinda hard to play poker."

Billy can't help but smirk at your enthusiasm, amused by your excitement. "I don't know, darlin'," he says, playing along. "Maybe ghost cards are made of some special ghost material that ain't see-through, but still lets us float right through 'em. Or maybe we just play ghost poker blindfolded, make things a bit more interesting."

You laugh at that, shaking your head. "Billy, if the cards are ghost cards we wouldn't go through 'em. We would only go through things on this side. Walls, living people, that kinda thing. I think ghost stuff we'd still be able to touch like normal."

"Right, right," he says, playfully rolling his eyes. "I keep forgettin' you're the expert on ghost things, darlin'. I'm just a livin' person, what do I know? But hey, if we can touch ghost stuff, that means we could probably hold hands. And I gotta say, bein' able to hold your hand as a ghost sounds mighty nice."

"Of course we could hold hands," You say, smiling as you glance his way again. "Just like now, I'd hardly ever stop."

Billy grins, reaching out to take your hand in his across the gap between your horses, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'd be holdin' your hand all the damn time, darlin'," he says, his tone playful. "Ain't no way I could go more than five minutes without holdin' onto you. You'd have to pull me off of ya."

"Maybe, but I never would." You shrug, feeling fuzzy inside from the feeling of his warm hand around yours. You had to slightly lean his way to reach him while you rode side by side, but you didn't mind. Just like always.

"That's good, darlin'," he says, his tone soft and affectionate. "Cause I'd never want you to let go. We'll hold hands for eternity, you and me. Ain't nothin' better than bein' close to you, love."

"Forever." You agree with a small smile. "And in a hundred years, people will come to our grave talkin' about the infamous Billy the Kid and his girl whose name was lost to time- and if you go behind the old saloon at night you'll see 'em still holdin' hands, hear 'em laugh. On a good day, maybe they'll even kiss." You giggle through a whisper, lightly swinging your joined hands.

Billy chuckles, a broad smile spreading across his face at your description.

"Oh, I like the sound of that, darlin'," he says, his tone light and almost excited. "People comin' to visit our grave and talkin' about us in hushed whispers. Seein' our ghost hands holdin' each other, hearin' our faint laughter. Maybe some young lovers will come to the grave and kiss, thinkin' it brings them good luck. Ain't that romantic?"

You let out another soft sigh, nodding in agreement. "And we can watch with ghost popcorn and place bets on whether or not they'll last."

Billy laughs at your suggestion, his eyes lighting up with amusement.

"Ghost popcorn and bettin' on lovers' fates? Darlin', you've got all the best ideas," he says, grinning. "That sounds like a pretty good way to spend eternity if you ask me. Cheerin' on the young 'uns and seein' if they make it or not. And I'll be bettin' on them to make it, every time. I'm a bit of a romantic at heart, after all."

Your smile shifts into a small happy pout. "That's sweet, baby." You say softly. "But I'll be lookin' out for red flags on 'em. And if he gives me any kind of strange feelin', I'm gonna whisper in her ear to run. And then, that'll be part of it. "Billy's unknown girl sure knows how to pick 'em right," they'd say."

"Well, we'll make an excellent ghost power couple, then," he teases. "You pickin' out the bad ones and me rootin' for the good ones. We'll be like matchmakers from beyond the grave. And I gotta say, the thought of people talkin' about 'Billy's unknown girl' and her ability to pick 'em right is definitely somethin' I can live - or rather, die - with."

You nod happily. "May take a while for people to trust me, but kids'll catch on quick." You say with a shrug. "Some young girl will be talkin' to her friend about her new boyfriend who she's not just sure about, and her friend will tell her to bring him to our grave. Because her cousin came to us for a kiss of good luck, and she swears up and down that she heard a girl whisper in her ear tellin' her to run from him and she didn't. Then she found out he'd been cheatin' with the preacher's daughter the whole time. I can see it now."

"You've got it all figured out, baby," he says. "Word'll spread soon enough, that our grave is the place to come for relationship advice. And once people hear about you whisperin' in girls' ears, they'll be beggin' to come visit us. Maybe they'll even start leavin' offerings for us, like we're the ghost gods of love and romance."

"Yeah. Flowers for me and bullets for you." You grin, very pleased with this story you've spun up for yourselves.

Billy grins back at you, amused by your suggestion. He looks ahead again, feeling the weight of the reins in his free hand as he looks at the long and endless path ahead. It feels almost lighter than what he's used to.

"Sounds perfect to me, darlin'," he says, chuckling. "I'm sure our grave will be the prettiest in the cemetery. You'll have flowers galore, and I'll have bullets stacked up like a fortress around me. A fitting tribute for the outlaw and his love, don't you think?"

"I think so." You smile, giggling as you think about him sitting on some kind of ghost throne made of bullet boxes. The idea of him having some kind of legacy left in a way people would want to honour instead of condemn makes you happier than just about anything else could. He was a good man, and no one these days knew that.

"I doubt anyone will know much about me, but... I'm not sure I mind." You say after a moment.

Billy shakes his head, his expression fond. "Darlin', trust me, people will know all about you," he says firmly. "They'll know you were the gal who loved the infamous Billy the Kid, who wasn't afraid to risk herself by sneakin' into a jail at night for him. They'll know you were the gal with fire in your eyes and a sharp wit. The gal who saw the world through different eyes, and wasn't afraid to speak her mind. People ain't ever gonna forget you, love."

You smile a little bit, nodding as you look back at the trail ahead. "I hope they bring my sunflowers." You say softly, rocking steadily with the movement of my horse. "Or drawings of horses. I wanna see these girls' horses in exchange for savin' them the trouble of a cheating man." You giggle. "And I hope they think I was pretty. I think that'd be pretty sweet."

Billy's smile grows and he slightly shakes his head. If anything of your memory could last, to him, it would be your beauty. Your absolutely enchanting gaze, the way your hair seemed to shine in the sun, and that smile that could brighten even the darkest of nights. No one knew him quite like you, but any man would be a fool to not see how lovely you were.

"Oh, darlin', I've no doubt they'll bring sunflowers and pictures of horses," he says. "And they'll think you were the prettiest girl who ever walked the earth. They won't even need to have seen a picture of you to know it, they'll just know from the love and loyalty you had for me. You're gonna be the stuff of legends, honey. The mystery girl who brought the infamous outlaw to his knees."

You look over at him again, a soft smile on your face. "I sure hope they don't see that literally." I giggle.

Billy chuckles, his expression amused at the subtle implication. "Oh darlin', I could think of worse things to be remembered for," he says playfully. "Maybe they'll even start a tradition of young girls bringin' their boyfriends to our grave and havin' them kneel down in front of you. Like they'll be thinkin' you're the goddess of love and loyalty, blessin' their relationships."

"Sure, but then I'd have to turn to ask you if they were doin' it right." You giggle. "If I should give them my blessings or not."

"Well, I reckon I'll have to take on the role of your faithful advisor then," he says with a bright laugh. "I'll be sittin' right by your side, watchin' as they kneel down in front of you. And if any of them don't look serious enough about their girl or if their form is off, I'll be whisperin' in your ear. Tellin' you to make 'em kneel a little longer."

"Nah, you gotta tell that to her- not to me. I can't make 'em do anything, but if he's good for her, she'll be able to make 'im listen." You shrug. "If he's good, if he's anything like you, he'd rather listen to her than to a ghost."

"You make a fair point, darlin'," he says with an amused grin. "I suppose I could whisper into her ear instead. Encouragin' her to stand up for herself and make sure her man's treatin' her right. And if he's anything like me, he'll listen to her and only her. But I still think I'll get a kick out of watchin' those boys kneel at your feet, darlin'. Just seein' a little bit of my influence in the world."

"I dunno if I need other boys kneelin' for me." You say, scrunching up your nose a bit at the thought. "I think I'd rather it be you."

Billy laughs, his eyes gleaming with affection. "Well, darlin', I think I'd prefer you have me on my knees anyway, and only me," he admits, his tone playful. "But the thought that young fellas comin' to our grave and kneelin' in front of you to ask for your blessing, it just makes me feel a little... proud. Like my love for you will keep on goin' even after we're gone. People ain't gonna forget about us, darlin'. They're not gonna forget about you."

You let the quiet sounds of the night overtake you after that, riding along the outskirts of an unfamiliar town by now. You can see the buildings in the distance, squinting a little at the abundance of bright lanterns. You wonder if they're celebrating something, but you're not quite close enough to hear.

"Hey, look at that." You say, gently tugging on his hand before letting go and pointing over toward the lights in the distance. "You ever seen somethin' like that before?"

"No, baby. I haven't." Billy answers, squinting a little as well and leaning forward to see past your shadowed silhouette. "They've sure got some bright lanterns over there. Maybe they're celebratin' somethin'."

"Maybe." You agree quietly, shrugging it off and continuing on.

It's too dark to see well enough, though, and you're both too distracted by the lights of the town as you pass by the Old Fort Sumner cemetery on your other side, careless and ignorant of the grave sight fifty or so feet away. Caged up, covered in bullets and flowers and coins- offerings for the Bandit King and his girl, who died as they lived.

Occasionally, on dark and clear nights like this, the local kids would claim to hear laughter or see the young couple on their horses riding through the country, just outside of town. No one was lucky enough to see the echo of them tonight.

follow my library for notifications when i post something new! @runningfrom2am-library

but i will tag a couple of my favs bc you guys write SO well for billy and i love it and reading all your stuff inspired me to finish this up and actually post it so thank you :')

@milliesfishes @francixoxoxo ily xx

[crumbledcastle28]

Joel Miller: Marked Me Like a Bloodstain

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Excerpt: "Wait," you whispered, "let go."

He did, and you laid him down flat on his back before leaning down on his middle and pressing a soft kiss to the scar. You traced it again, sketching designs of stars and infinity signs around it.

"I'm sorry you went through that," you whispered, and kissed it again, "but I'm glad you're here."

He kept eye contact with you as you did this, and although he'd never admit it, a slight mist lined his eyes. "Me too, baby. Me too."

Warnings: all fluff, Joel's insecure (what's new), descriptions of blood and getting impaled (also what's new), kissing, references to oral sex, major descriptions of scars, please think before you read.

A/N: title feel familiar to anyone else? (I made this title before the breakup rumors I'm so sorry)

Word Count: 1.5k

Pedro Masterlist

If you'd like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

(Gif credit to owner)

The rise and fall of Joel's chest was even underneath your cheek, but the rhythm of his heart was not. With each drag of your nail across his sternum, pecks, and stomach, his heart would escalate and cascade, in perfect tempo with your fingertips. It was like a song, it never ceased to follow, and you couldn't help but smile into his warm skin after a particularly apparent inflation.

A flush of heat on his neck told you he noticed too.

"Somethin' funny," he asked with a chuckle, causing you to only giggle louder into his neck.

"Yes,' you whispered against his pulse point, pecking it slightly.

“I ain’t even gonna try to play it off," he replied, "your fingers are drivin' me nuts."

You placed your free hand on his scruff-dusted cheek and pulled his pouty lips to yours, making him groan delectably as his pointer finger continued its task of tracing over any and every inch of your exposed back.

You were never going to leave his bed.

Your nude body was warm against his own--a mix of the warm meal the two of you had shared and the slowly cooling summer night--as he kissed you back. Usually, on a night like this, you would taste each other until the sun rose, and do it once more for good measure, but not tonight.

Tonight was a jewel, an artifact, a golden crown. It was one of the rare nights that all Joel wanted to do was lie next to you, talk about anything and everything, and just be.

You pulled away and pecked his nose before tucking yourself back into his chest, sighing with relief, but never removing your eyes from his face. These nights were your favorites, purely because you could stare at him endlessly, and memorize him enough that, even in your old age, you would still be able to picture every detail of his face.

The sharpness of his jaw, the streaks of grey in his dark brown hair, the patchiness of his stubble, the exact arch of his nose, the slight wooden hint in his scent, and the drips of honey in his eyes when the setting sun hit them just right.

Naked, in every sense of the word. Your addiction to it would surely be the death of you.

Your fingers continued their mission to feel every part of him as you stared up at him, and he stared down at you, likely committing every bit of you to memory the same way you were for him. You couldn't deny the flood of warmth that bloomed across your chest at the thought.

Your fingers continued their mission to feel every speck of skin on Joel Miller as they traveled lower and lower, and no matter how many nights you had done this, felt as much of him as you could, Joel always stiffened up when you did. Always. And this time was no different.

You had found that words never seemed to help him shred himself of his insecurities, no matter how poetic the prayers that fell from your lips.

It's me, Joel, only me.

Please, don't hide from me, baby.

I love you. Let me know you.

Nothing. It was when your lips were used for other purposes that Joel's body began to meld into the mattress.

As your fingers traced every mole, mark from the sun, freckle, and scar, your lips pressed a kiss onto his chest, bicep, neck, and face, alternating between them all. He exhaled, finally letting go, as his eyes fluttered shut.

"I love you," he whispered, eyes still closed but lips parted in rhapsody, "I love you."

You didn't respond with your words, only another kiss.

His deep breaths filled the air as your fingers made their way down, down, down to his lower stomach. They made it to the two moles above his belly button, one of your favorite places to admire on him, but as they made their way further and further to his left side, the muscles on his abdomen began to tighten, and his breaths shallowed.

You removed your lips from his collarbone at the feeling. "Joel--"

"No," he whispered huskily, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he said, "Keep goin'."

You nodded, and he pressed kiss after kiss to your hairline as your fingertips went from soft skin to a long stretch of indented, deeply textured skin. It was wide, and rugged, and old. You felt over every inch of it, noting how it felt deeper towards the center, but more soft on the edges.

You propped yourself up slightly to look at it; its stretch across his abdomen, its darkened tone, and how it was slightly raised from the rest of his tanned skin.

It was the biggest scar you had ever seen on his body, and in your life.

"How have I--" you began, looking back at his solemn face, "--how have I never noticed this before?"

"I never let you," he responded, his tone full of both disappointment and relief, "never wanted you to see it."

You couldn't help the tears that lined your eyes as you asked, "What happened?"

And he told you. Every detail. How it felt when the pipe entered his body, how it felt pushed up against his organs, and how it felt coming out. He described everything from that point on as hazed and muffled, except for the look of fear in Ellie's dark eyes.

"That's what kept me walking," he said, wiping the tears from your cheekbones as he spoke quietly, "her eyes. Her need for my heart to keep beatin'."

He described the next few months as dream-like, like he never really knew when he was awake or not, unaware what was real or figments of his imagination.

"It was hell," he said, "but she stayed with me through it all, and she's the reason I'm alive."

You nodded, understanding that in order to keep himself sane, he had to focus on Ellie's role in it, not his own.

Still, you couldn't hold your tongue as you said, "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

He shook his head at your tears and kissed your forehead once again. "S'alright, got some of the best sleep of my life."

You laughed breathily into his chest as he held you close, once again running his hands up and down your naked back as he did. He exhaled deeply, like he had finally gotten a heavy weight off of his chest, and you pressed a kiss to the middle of his sternum.

But you weren't done yet.

"Wait," you whispered, "let go."

He did, and you laid him down flat on his back before leaning down on his middle and pressing a soft kiss to the scar. You traced it again, sketching designs of stars and infinity signs around it.

"I'm sorry you went through that," you whispered, and kissed it again, "but I'm glad you're here."

He kept eye contact with you as you did this, and although he'd never admit it, a slight mist lined his eyes. "Me too, baby. Me too."

You laid down on top of him, completely letting your body weight onto his, and tucked yourself into his neck once again. You always loved how well it fit there. His hands went up into your hair to massage your scalp, and you practically hummed.

"I don't mind bein' scarred," he said into your hair after a few beats of silence, "means I'm still survivin', and that means I'm still with you."

You smiled against him, and the unique silence of understanding between two people who know each other better than anyone else was the only thing that filled the room. These moments, this silence, was priceless.

"Besides," Joel said suddenly, carving through the silence huskily, "marks are good, means it meant something."

You nodded, murmuring a small "mhm" as you did. Your eyes were beginning to grow heavy, and the depth of his voice was only lulling you more.

"You've marked me, in a way," he said against your face, and your eyebrows came together in confusion.

"Yeah, not in a scar way though," he said, and brought your hand to his beating chest, "but just as permanent. More like in a...a bloodstain way--a good bloodstain--in here. You've marked my heart with it."

Your eyes met his own, and it didn't take you thirty seconds before you both started laughing in perfect symphony.

"A 'good bloodstain'," you said through your laughter, feeling a tear drip onto your face once more, "I never took you for a poet, Miller."

"Well, I ain't," he said in reply, his face beginning to flush, "that's why that was so terrible."

Through the both of your smiles you were still able to kiss him, whispering against his lips, "I know what you meant."

Because you did. You had marked each other, internally, in a way that could never be removed, and as you kissed him one last time before falling asleep wrapped in warmth and love, you couldn't help but agree with him.

Tag list: (if you'd like to be added please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @untitledarea @avengersfan25 @lexloon​ @aninnai @darling-murdock @daphne-turner @ellesvoid

[peterswonderland]

Introduction

By now, we all have our opinions of The Tortured Poets Department: The Anthology. It has received mixed reviews from critics to fans alike.

In the Gaylor community, many have dubbed it her “straightest album,” which I am inclined to agree with. BUT.

If you do not like Gaylor or Swiftgron content, feel free to block and/or keep scrolling!

I’ve seen and read theories for years. In this post I will be referencing the Swiftgron Masterpost. I’m also an avid listener of the What I Will Say podcast. (No one affiliated with the podcast is involved with this post, and for all I know might disagree with it entirely. However, I will be referencing the masterpost at points, and it is only fair to give credit where credit is due.)

This is celebrity gossip, and everything is alleged. I do not know Taylor or Dianna. This is alleged (don't sue me, tysm!)

Peter is…Dianna?

Halfway through my first listen of “Peter,” I was fully convinced this song was about Dianna. That Peter was Dianna.

First, I will go through the lyrics that most pointedly seem Dianna-coded to me.

Forgive me, Peter My lost fearless leader In closets like cedar Preserved from when we were just kids Is it somethin' I did?

Taylor references closets in “seven” on folklore:

And I've been meaning to tell you I think your house is haunted Your dad is always mad and that must be why And I think you should come live with Me and we can be pirates Then you won't have to cry Or hide in the closet

Cedar closets are used as a "safe haven" to put valuable items in. The closet has preserved everything from when Taylor and the muse were "just kids" (likely meaning their early twenties.) Shoutout to Kristin in the WIWS Discord for mentioning this!

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Another interpretation I found on Genius mentioned that the closet line in “Peter” could also be a reference to another fantasy story, The Chronicles of Narnia, wherein stepping into a closet revealed a new fantasy world. This fantasy narrative ties in with “Peter”/Peter Pan and “Wonderland”/Alice in Wonderland, which we’ll get to in a second.

The line “And I think you should come live with/Me and we can be pirates” can also be connected to Peter Pan. Peter Pan and the Lost Boys often have to fight off Captain Hook and his pirates. There are also theories that pirates/Captain Hook are old Lost Boys. TL/DR: Old lost boys are either killed by Peter Pan or can choose to become Lost Boys…at least by these fans’ interpretations. A weak link I know, but still an interesting one. 

“We can be pirates” because you’ve been forced to grow up too quickly…? Hm.

Further connecting “seven” to “Peter” is the idea of being just kids, although in “seven” it seems to be more literal, while in “Peter” she might be referring to when she and Dianna actually met: Taylor was ~20 years old, and Dianna was ~24. 

From “Peter”:

Are you still a mind reader? A natural scene stealer? I've heard great things, Peter But life was always easier on you Than it was on me

Dianna is stunning, and has often been referred to as a scene stealer.

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“When we cast Dianna as Quinn, she ruined the part for me,” Murphy says. “She was supposed to be the Cybill Shepherd, Last Picture Show cunt, so to speak, but she humanized it. She can cry at the drop of a hat. So now her character has a conscience, a soul and great vulnerability.” Ryan Murphy, Rolling Stone. Credit

Credit (Shoutout to ellie from the WIWS Discord server for bringing the TCA nominations for "Female Scene Stealer" to my attention!)

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More from “Peter”:

And I won't confess that I waited, but I let the lamp burn As the men masqueraded, I hoped you'd return

I viewed this through a queer lens upon first listen; the definition of masqueraded (verb) is “to go about disguised/to assume the appearance of something one is not.”

When Taylor sings “as the men masqueraded, I hope you’d return,” the you is implied to not be a man. 

We’ll circle back to lamps burning/lights in Part 2.

And you said you'd come and get me, but you were twenty-five And the shelf life of those fantasies has expired Lost to the "Lost Boys" chapter of your life

Dianna was twenty-five when she and Taylor allegedly began dating.

Dianna, through multiple interviews and her old tumblr blog (that often mentioned children’s fantasies and stories), seems to cherish her inner child and not be in any rush to “grow up.”

From an interview for Galore Magazine in 2014:

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There are also Dianna’s frequent posts on Tumblr about fairytales and children’s stories - this could lend itself to the idea she was living a “Lost Boy’s life.” More on that later.

But the woman who sits by the window Has turned out the light

Again, there is a reference to light, which is a theme (amongst many) we will visit in Part 2 of this analysis.

These lyrics draw natural parallels to Disney’s animated Peter Pan film, wherein Peter Pan visits the Darling children through their window. Wendy is seen sitting by the window, yearning for something more.

In another TTPD track about windows, “I Look in People’s Windows,” there are obvious parallels to “Peter.” These parallels are so strong that I believe these songs are almost certainly about the same person.

Credit | Credit

In “cardigan” from folklore, Taylor seems to categorize herself as Wendy and an unknown muse as Peter.

I knew you Tried to change the ending Peter losing Wendy

More “cardigan” parallels will be drawn in Part 2. Part 1 is focusing on “Peter” itself as well as its tie ins to another TTPD song, “I Look in People’s Windows.”

I Peter Looks in People’s Windows

Connecting “Peter” and “I Look in People’s Windows” is almost too easy, yet I didn’t catch it on my first few listens. Let’s break it down.

The images referenced above show that windows are a central plot point to Peter Pan. Waiting by the window symbolizes yearning for something more, something magical. Wendy is waiting for something more: for Peter’s return. We can draw parallels between Wendy’s window and the rabbit hole in Alice in Wonderland: a portal to something whimsical and dangerous.

If you’re new here, “Wonderland” from 1989 is known to many as one of Taylor’s most blatant songs about a woman: Dianna Agron. I encourage you to read this portion of the Swiftgron masterpost if you’re new or need a refresher!

Sit and Wait, Sit and Wait

The first theme we’ll discuss is longing/yearning. Both in “Peter” and “I Look in People’s Windows,” Taylor conveys a strong sense of yearning for a person with whom a relationship has permanently died, despite her hopes.

From “Peter”:

The goddess of timing Once found us beguiling She said she was trying Peter, was she lying? My ribs get the feelin' she did And I didn't want to come down I thought it was just goodbye for now

/

Said you were gonna grow up Then you were gonna come find me Words from the mouths of babes Promises oceans deep But never to keep

/

Forgive me, Peter, please know that I tried To hold onto the days when you were mine (Hold onto the days) But the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light

The woman (Taylor) who sat by the window has given up hope (turned out the light.)

Also, fun fact about "my ribs get the feeling she did": Dianna Agron removed a Wonderland tattoo after the song "Wonderland" was released. Guess where the tattoo was?

On. Her. RIBS.

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"We're all mad here."

Also, "What will we become? We become ourselves," is a quote from poet Patti Smith. Yes, the same Patti Smith referenced in the title track for The Tortured Poets Department. (Thanks to thea from the WIWS discord for pointing out the Patti Smith connection to me!)

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(Shoutout to reddit user aztraps for pointing out the rib lyric to me!)

The themes of yearning continue on “I Look in People’s Windows” during essentially the entire song, but here are some highlights:

A feather taken by the wind blowing I'm afflicted by the not knowing so

I'd be remiss not to mention that Peter Pan, throughout many adaptations, is known for his feather in his cap. 

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The Paradise of Peter Pan by Edward Mason Eggleston, 1934

You might notice in this painting that Peter looks like...well, a woman (stereotypically and historically!) The character of Peter Pan is normally played by a woman on stage and is often depicted with female features. This makes Dianna being Peter even more...suspicious.

More from “I Look in People’s Windows”:

I look in people's windows In case you're at their table What if your eyes looked up and met mine One more time

This is a love that is ended, yet Taylor can’t help but wonder what might happen if flames rekindled. 

I know what you’re thinking – Taylor Swift isn’t walking around random neighborhoods peering into neighbor’s windows. You’d be right (hopefully.) This song is a metaphor, in my view, for “insta-stalking” or social media “stalking” an ex, constantly checking up on them to see what they’re up to, who they’re with. She checks mutual friends’ pages, looking to see if she sees her love (Dianna) “at their table” (with them.)

The real question is - why use windows as the metaphor for internet stalking your ex? Perhaps to tie it into another song about that same ex?

More "ILIPW" lyrics:

I tried searching faces on streets What are the chances you'd be Downtown, downtown, downtown Does it feel alright to not know me? I'm addicted to the "if only"

Taylor is YEARNING for this person. She also seems to be unable to believe this person has been able to seemingly move on without her (just like Peter has.)

In “Peter,” Taylor’s relationship didn’t turn out as she hoped. She hoped this person would come back, and they didn’t. (“Come Back…Be Here” anyone??? PART TWO)

“I Look in People’s Windows” highlights the fact that Taylor has not completely moved on. As she goes about her daily life, she still “peers in people’s windows” (checks instagram/twitter/etc.) for this person. IT’S THE SAME MUSE!!! (Allegedly.)

In addition, the line: “I'm addicted to the "if only"” is especially interesting given Dianna’s interesting response to rumors of dating Taylor in a May 2023 (!!!) Rolling Stone article:

The theme of waiting is also important to discuss. In “Peter,” Taylor is waiting for someone who said they would grow up and find her; she’s sitting by the window waiting for them. In “ILIPW,” Taylor is looking through windows waiting for this person’s eyes to meet “mine one more time.” Both songs have this sense of sit and wait, sit and wait, sit and wait.

Taylor looking into people's windows and obsessing over gatherings where the muse might be in attendance reflects a sense of longing and yearning, reminiscent of Wendy's yearning in Peter Pan to reconnect with Peter despite being unable to bridge the gap between their realities:

Lyrics from “Peter”:

We both did the best we could do underneath the same moon In different galaxies

Eternal Youth

More from “I Look in People’s Windows”:

I look in people's windows Transfixed by rose golden glows

To view something in rose colored glasses is to see something in “favorably disposed opinions : optimistic eyes.” 

One could compare this to the rose colored glasses Wendy takes on when visiting Neverland, or when Alice visits Wonderland. (Again, we will be reviewing Wonderland’s connection amongst many other songs in connection to “Peter”/“ILIPW” in Part 2.) Both of these fairytales cater to the inner child and youth.

The theme of eternal youth in “Peter”, based on the fairytale of Peter Pan, is self explanatory, and I don’t feel the need to go into detail in this already MASSIVE post.

For this example, we’re going with the theory that “Peter” and “ILIPW” are inspired by the same muse/relationship. “ ILIPW’s” theme of yearning can be interpreted through the lens of Wendy's relationship with Peter—a story that encapsulates the longing for eternal youth (which Taylor writes about in “22” on Red, a song that is DEDICATED TO DIANNA, the pain of growing up, and the poignant realization that some connections are meant to remain in the realm of dreams and memories.

Rediscover Your Sense of Wonder

Peter appears unexpectedly and at random to seemingly bring a sense of magic and wonder to those around him, including Wendy and her siblings. Peter visiting the Darling children through their window symbolizes the allure of escapism, especially for someone like Taylor who cannot lead a normal life, and the desire to remain forever young.

“ILIPW,” if you allow the interpretation that it is intrinsically connected to “Peter,” indicates a longing to recapture, if anything, the innocence and adventure embodied by Peter/the muse. Taylor’s fixation on windows is a search for moments of enchantment and wonder that the Peter muse gave her.

If we follow this line of thinking and allow Dianna to be the muse of “Peter” and “I Look in People’s Windows,” it’s very interesting that the song canonically dedicated to Dianna centers around the very idea of youth and wonder: “22” from Red, as seen in the Rolling Stone piece mentioned above.

From “22”:

We're happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time It's miserable and magical / It seems like one of those nights We ditch the whole scene and end up dreaming Instead of sleeping / Everything will be alright If we just keep dancing like we're 22

Tumblr / felldowntherabbithole

Dianna once had a tumblr with the url felldowntherabbithole. While I searched what archives I could find, it was quite overwhelming, and I didn’t get through many of her posts throughout the years she was active. However, I will mention posts I did find that showcased her interest in fairytales, and why Taylor might choose one (or two…“Wonderland,” anyone?) as inspiration for songs she has written about Dianna.

FIRST: This old post was found by Cam from whatiwillsay. She is not affiliated with this post and did not endorse it. However, I was unable to find this screenshot myself on the Wayback Machine, so I want to give her credit for finding this post on Dianna’s blog:

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Now, onto some screenshots I found myself of Dianna’s love of fairytales, all courtesy of the Wayback Machine:

References from bottom to top: Goodnight Moon, Dr. Suess, Alice in Wonderland, Little Red Riding Hood, Underland (a retelling of Alice in Wonderland)

Part Two

PART TWO is here!

If you have any comments, suggestions, or questions, I’m more than ready to hear your thoughts!

Part Two will cover "Peter" and "ILIPW's" connections to other songs associated with Dianna.

Part 3 will cover anything I missed that I didn't feel I could edit into Part 1 or 2, as well as some more reach-y theories that I still feel deserve an honorable mention!

This post will be edited for grammatical and factual errors as necessary, as well as adding more evidence I feel needs to be included in this post.

[keep-the-wolves-close]

Steady Heart

Chapter 37: O Death

* Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M

* Warnings: language, dread, violence, kidnapping

* Word count: 1,881ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all.

Author's note: I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as well! Please don’t come for me with pitchforks and torches! 😅

Feel free to scream at me in my ask box. I have a feeling we’re all going to need to.

Stella had gone out to the barn to grab Abigail to go for a night ride. The bay roan was antsy. The mare could tell Stella was anxious. Stella hadn’t really had much of a chance to take her out properly as of late, so that didn’t help.

Kayce said he loved her. That still floored her. She wasn’t sure if she was overreacting or not. Her mind tried to downplay what had happened. The last time she got ahead of herself, she ended up getting humbled really quick. She definitely didn’t want to do that this time.

Stella had a hard time comprehending why Kayce would be interested in her at all. If that’s what was truly happening here. She would have to suck it up sooner or later and find out. Then again, Kayce had bigger things going on. He was getting everything settled and finalized with his soon to be ex-wife. He had a living situation, and the time with his son to figure out. There’s no way he would have even been thinking about her during all of that.

Stella quietly led Abigail to the outside. On their way out of the barn, she spotted a solitary crow sitting on a fence nearby. Her face scrunched. A single crow? At night time? ‘What was that rhyme about crows? One for sorrow? Two for mirth? Somethin’ somethin’ blah blah.’ She felt her chest tighten at the thought of what that could mean. She’d seen one too many single crows lately. ‘You gotta stop freakin’ yourself out, girl.’ Stella heard noise ahead of her and saw Tate over at the round pen. He was alone, with what looked to be an armful of hay. She led Abigail over to the youngin’ and his horse.

“Tate, what’re you doin’ out here all by yourself?” She thought it was strange that he was allowed to come out by himself at night. Yes, the ranch was safe for all intents and purposes, but there was no way to effectively say it was safe at all times. It was late and most of the guys in the bunkhouse were out taking care of Jimmy’s problem. Stella ran a count in her head of who was still home. Jamie, Colby, Ethan, and Jake were the only ones in there. They were probably already looking at the backs of their eyelids.

The little boy latched the gate behind him, and faced her. “Grandpa said I had to feed my horse before I got dessert because it’s not fair that I’m treating myself and he’s down here hungry.”

Stella smiled. “Well he’s right, buddy. We can’t just forget about our pets,” she gently patted Abigail’s shoulder. “Do you want a ride back to the house? I’ll let you ride while I walk her.”

Tate’s eyes lit up. “Yeah!”

“Alright, bud. Come stand over here.” Stella knelt down and cupped her hands so Tate could step into them in order to give him a hike into the saddle. When he was seated safely, she handed him one of Abigail’s reins and held the other to walk her along. “So back to what your grandpa was saying.”

Tate sighed. He hadn’t been expecting a lecture from Stella.

“They depend on us. If we don’t come to help them out, they can’t just go get the hay or the feed for themselves.” Stella looked up at the boy. “They don’t have thumbs.” She wiggled her thumbs at him, successfully making him giggle.

“Yeah, you’re right, Aunt Stell. I gotta start thinking about him too.”

Stella nodded, “now you’re thinkin’ like a cowboy.” The fast crunch and skid of tires on the gravel of the hill could be heard not far behind them.

“Who’s that?” Tate questioned.

Stella’s face pulled into a frown and stopped Abigail’s motion and quickly walked around front of her. She wasn’t familiar with the van. Her stomach dropped thinking back to a few weeks ago with those men that were following her. How she said to Kayce a few nights back, “how can you be sure? There’s so many places people can sneak onto the property and we all would be none the wiser.” A couple men spilled out of the van and started to close the gap between them rapidly.

“Tate, get down now!” She clambered to catch the boy so he didn’t hit the ground too hard. She grabbed his shoulders to hold his attention. Quickly, she explained to him, “no matter what happens next, no matter what you hear, I need you to run. And if you can’t make it to the house, I need you to hide in the best hide and seek spot you can think of that’s out of sight and don’t come out until you hear someone you know! Do you understand me?”

He shook his head quickly.

“Take Abigail, use her as cover to run until you aren’t seen anymore. She’ll find someone when she runs off. Go!”

“But Aunt Stel —,” Tate started to object, but Stella cut him off.

“— I said go!! Run!” Stella yelled at him. She hated to scare him, but something was awfully wrong about the situation.

She knew Abigail would make her way back to the barn or in front of the bunkhouse. Stella needed her to be a distraction to keep Tate safe. She stalked off to the round pen. Cursing herself that she only had her hunting knife on her.

“Can I help y’all?” Stella called out to them, shocked at herself for sounding almost like Rip.

“Yeah we’re looking to get a message to John Dutton.” The lead man expressed.

“You are, huh?” She slid the knife out of its belt holster, that belonged to her and Ryan’s dad, in a fluid motion. To the men she approached it looked like she fixed her jacket. “Y’all tell me and you can leave. I’ll relay the message.” She tried to keep her eyes on the men and make sure she could see where Abigail was headed in her peripheral vision. If she couldn’t see Abigail anymore that meant Tate was one step closer to safety.

“Nah we can’t do that. We were sent with a specific purpose. You weren’t it.” The lead man confessed. Stella’s heart sank at the implication about Kayce’s son. “Now where’s the boy, Stella?”

Her hands started to go clammy. Her breathing was shallow. “How do you know my name?”

“We know a lot of things about you. About everyone here.”

The second man started to search around. Stella couldn’t see Abigail any longer. She closed her eyes for a split second and breathed hard. She prayed with every last bit of her soul that Tate was on his way to his grandpa.

“That’s nice, but you need to leave. You’re not getting anything.”

“We came for the boy, and we will not let anyone, let alone some girl, stop us.” The lead man yelled to his partner, “Cut out farther until you find him. I’ll take care of her.”

Stella turned abruptly, starting to make a mad dash for the bunkhouse. Her burning legs wanted to give out, but she pushed them to go faster. She could hear the lead man behind her as he gained length on her. He was almost on top of her and she panicked. She grabbed a piece of rebar sticking out of the sand by the round pen and swung it at the face of the lead man, hard. Stella swung as if she was trying for a home run.

The man’s jaw snapped shut and reopened as he let out a deafening scream. He grabbed the bar tight and yanked her toward him. “You filthy bitch!” The man’s words came out garbled. He gripped up Stella’s hair and pulled as hard as he could.

Stella stabbed at the man with her knife, but in her panic she didn’t have a good hold. She punctured his leg and he howled in pain. It didn’t have the desired effect Stella had wanted. She jabbed wildly and got him in his side twice before the lead man was able to slip it out of her hands.

Tate must have seen her struggle because he screamed her name loud and clear from not far off, “Aunt Stella!!”

“Fuck!” She wrestled with the man to get her balance back and his hand out of her hair. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tate as he ran over to her. “Tate, I said run to the house!” Stella screamed at him.

Tate continued to dart toward her, he wanted to get the men away from Stella. He was snatched up by the second man she’d lost sight of.

“Stella!!” His tiny voice hollered. Tate struggled against the second man’s grasp.

Stella broke loose from the lead man and started to scramble for the second, but was grabbed from behind. “Fuck you piece of shit! Let us go!”

A fist hammered down onto her head from the man that had her, knocking her glasses off her face. She groaned as her vision blurred. She tried to get her foot behind or under the man’s leg, to sweep his foot out but he stayed on top of it. His arms were wrapped around the top of hers as she struggled to gain some high ground. She didn’t want to do this, but she didn’t have any other option but to ram her head backwards into his nose as hard as she could. She hoped she would break it.

Stella and the lead man both cried out, and he loosened his grip. Her head started to thump wildly. Quickly slipping her right arm out of the weak hold he had on it, Stella wrapped it around the lead man’s neck and tried to flip him like she would a calf. They both hit the ground and groaned. Stella was winded and half woozy, but scrambled her way to standing.

She ran forward trying to make it closer to the bunkhouse. A silent prayer was said. Stella let out a scream she hoped would be heard by the entire ranch. “Colby! Anyone help!!” She would have gotten away if the other man hadn’t been enraged and made his way back for her after getting Tate in the van.

“Fuck!” She squeaked out. He gripped her up by the neck making her lose air and landed a solid fist to her face that dazed her. Her posture drooped and the man behind her let her fall to the ground.

She tried to claw her way back to standing to run toward the van. Both men kicked her sides, her head, her arms; anything they could get at to make sure she stayed down. The bunkhouse was too far away to have heard their screams clearly. She couldn’t breathe from the wind being knocked out of her and her vision was starting to go. No one was coming this time. With one final attempt to crawl back to her feet to get to the van, the lead man landed a knockout blow to her chin with his foot and Stella stopped moving all together. That solitary crow cawed and fluttering wings was the last thing Stella heard.

[agoldengalaxy]

Bluejay at Sunset

read on Ao3

words: 1631

“He was always…” John sighed. “He was always lookin’ out for me when I first joined the gang. Back then I was just a kid. Dutch and Hosea showed me the ropes, but Arthur was the one who kept me straight, savin’ me whenever I was in trouble. That night, on the mountain, I felt like I couldn’t return the favor. Seeing him like that, so sick and still being the one to save me, I…” he looked down, feeling his eyes burn. “It don’t feel right. I never got to say goodbye.” While he fought the burning in his eyes, a gentle hand came up to rest on his shoulder.. Charles was soft as ever. “It was his choice, John.” That was what made it hurt more.

--

John pulled on the reins carefully, murmuring a soft word of encouragement to his horse as he approached the ridge. He pat her neck gently, then slowly slid off of the saddle, letting her graze nearby.

His heart was pounding, and he couldn’t quite tell why. It was so small, so inconsequential compared to some of the things he’d done in his life, but this felt like the absolute hardest thing he’d ever have to do. Inhaling shakily, he willed himself to walk forward.

The sun began dipping toward the horizon, bathing the world in golden light. It was almost too bright, but John pushed forward, lifting a hand up to shield his eyes. Finally, he reached the small monument, adorned in flowers that were still blossoming. He wondered if Charles was the one to put them there.

With a long sigh, John knelt down on one knee, reading the name etched into the wood. He could still hear him telling him to ‘be a goddamn man.’ Carefully, he took off his hat, resting it against his chest. “Hey, Arthur.”

A slow breeze blew by, and a small bluejay landed on top of the post, tilting its head at the man. John felt utterly ridiculous, but after all these years, he knew he had to pay his respects, even though he was sure the man in question would be laughing at him now if he could see him.

“Jack’s twelve now. He’s still reading all those silly storybooks, and gettin’ real good at it, too. Abigail keeps asking him to read to her.” He smiled, looking down at the grass. “He remembers more than I give him credit for, I guess. He told me about the time you took him fishin’. He still doesn’t like it, in case you was wondering.”

“And Abigail…well, she and I are getting married in a few days. I mean, for real this time. She thought I was joking, y’know? Guess I can’t blame her. But I’m real happy now. Got a house and a farm. Uncle and Charles have been staying with us for a while. Sadie, too. She’s a bounty hunter now, can you believe it? Well, I’m sure you can. She’s just as fierce and sharp as she was before. She’ll outlive us all. She…she misses you, I think.”

John glanced toward the skyline, the sun still not fully set. The bluejay flapped its wings, but didn’t seem to want to leave. “Hell, I…I miss you, too. I think about you all the time. The entire reason I’m happy, and free, is because of you, Arthur. I’m never gonna repay that.” His voice trembled, and he gripped his hat a little tighter. “I don’t care whether you were good, bad, somethin’ in between. You’ll always be my brother.”

Before he could continue, a twig behind him broke, and he knew it wasn't his horse. His shoulders tensed, his hand drifting toward his belt when a dejected sigh stopped him in his tracks. “Sorry. It’s just me.”

John paused, then glanced over his shoulder. “Charles? What’re you doin’ here? You should be resting.”

Charles glanced down, looking somewhat uncomfortable, but John couldn’t tell if it was because he got caught or something else. “I’m fine. Abigail…wanted me to check on you. Coming here for the first time, she knew it’d be hard. She cares about you, y’know.”

The bluejay atop the wood flapped its wings again. John watched it hop for a moment, his heart twisting with so many different emotions. “That she does.” He inhaled sharply, but let the breath out slowly. “Thanks for appeasin’ her.”

“I only said yes because I wanted to check on you, too.” He hesitated for a moment before walking over, kneeling down beside him. Because it was Charles, John didn't even think about shooing him away. “You know…buryin’ him was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, and I’ve buried a lot of folks.”

John eyed him carefully. There were always dark circles under his eyes, and he always looked tired no matter how much sleep he claimed to have gotten. He wondered how many times Charles must’ve visited this site after burying him. He exhaled slowly. “Arthur would be glad to know it was you. He always thought highly of you.” When Charles quickly looked away, John wondered if he’d said something wrong. In any case, he continued. “It’s been years, but I still think he’s gonna show up at the ranch someday, tell me it was all some big joke.”

“I know what you mean.” 

“He was always…” John sighed. “He was always lookin’ out for me when I first joined the gang. Back then I was just a kid. Dutch and Hosea showed me the ropes, but Arthur was the one who kept me straight, savin’ me whenever I was in trouble. That night, on the mountain, I felt like I couldn’t return the favor. Seeing him like that, so sick and still being the one to save me, I…” he looked down, feeling his eyes burn. “It don’t feel right. I never got to say goodbye.”

While he fought the burning in his eyes, a gentle hand came up to rest on his shoulder. “It was his choice, John.”

That was what made it hurt more, he thought. He could still hear it in his mind. “He said it would mean a lot to him. If I made it out alive.”

“He knew his time was up. I guess he wanted his death to mean something. Helping you was the best way he could think of doing it.” Suddenly, his grip on John’s shoulder tightened. John wasn’t sure why until he watched a tear fall from his face to the ground. Stunned, John reached up to touch his own cheek. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. He was figuring he was more shocked than sad until Charles hesitantly spoke. “Are…you okay?”

The question was a simple one, but it had always been so hard to answer. “Yeah. ‘Course,” he choked, and the floodgates immediately opened.

Suddenly he was twelve years old again. Everyone was big and scary, and he felt so alone. Back then, he had Arthur, begrudgingly sharing his bedroll, offering him a cigarette, telling him jokes. Today, Arthur was six feet below him.

As he tried to force air into his lungs, Charles let go of his arm, and instead scooted closer to place an arm around his shoulders. “It’s okay, John. Let it out. It’s okay.”

John didn’t fight it, squeezing his eyes shut and letting the tears roll. He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but when he opened his eyes again, the sun had completely disappeared below the horizon, and the sky was a deep blue. Charles had been patient the entire time, sitting there, holding him, probably watching the sunset.

When his tears subsided, he didn’t pull away just yet, and Charles didn’t move either. The latter exhaled shakily after a few minutes of silence. “…I loved him, you know.”

Glancing up, he watched the bluejay upon the wood, surprised he hadn’t scared it off with his crying. For a moment, he felt uncomfortable, even felt like he shouldn’t be this close to him, but he trusted Charles with his life. After everything he did for him, whoever he chose to love shouldn’t matter. “I didn’t know you swung that way, Charles.”

“I didn’t either, ��till I met that poor bastard.” He sighed softly, carefully letting go of John’s shoulders. “Never got to tell him before…well. It was probably for the best.”

John blew out a breath. He couldn’t have been sure about what Arthur was thinking, but he could guess. “Maybe. No matter how he felt, though, I know he liked you. Probably the most out of any folk.” Charles looked away, a blush rising up to his cheeks, and John smiled slightly, wishing things had been different. He decided not to dwell on it much. “Was it you that’s been leavin’ the flowers, then?”

“Yes. I’m…gonna miss visiting him when I leave for the north.”

“Do you really gotta go?” John asked, feeling a little more like himself now that his eyes weren’t leaking. “I mean, you know you can stay as long as you want.”

Charles smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m grateful for that. Really. But I need to…I have to get out there. I have to move on.” He nodded toward the grave. “Seeing you, and Abigail, and Jack…makes me wonder if I could have a life like that. It just won’t happen here.”

“I understand.” Glancing up, he noticed the sky had become deeper blue, littered with faint stars. The bluejay flapped its wings and took off, soaring toward the mountains. John watched it go. “Well, I don’t have any concerns about you havin’ that kinda life. You’ll find a nice lady - or, uh, feller - and you’ll be happy.”

Charles smiled again, this time a bit more genuine. “How can you be sure?”

“‘Cause you’re the best of all of us. If I can do it, you sure as hell can do it, buddy.” Taking a deep breath, strangely feeling much better, John stood up, offering his hand. “C’mon. I got a bottle of whiskey with our names on it back at the ranch.”

“If Uncle didn’t get to it first.”

“If he did, I’ll kill him.” They began walking, but each paused for a moment to look back at the grave one more time. John placed his hat back on his head. “Goodbye, Arthur.”

Together, they mounted their horses, and rode back home, reminiscing fondly, because Arthur would have preferred it to tears.

[im-a-marvel-ous-hoe]

Downtown Winter Nights | Bucky Barnes (7th Day of 🎄)

(Credits to the owner of this pic!)

I wrote another little somethin’ for y’all! I hope you enjoy! 🩵

Christmas Masterlist <- check out my other holiday fics!

~~~~

“Well, it’s not called the “Windy City” for nothin’, that’s for sure.” Bucky commented as he wrapped his scarf around his head and covered face. We stepped off of the CTA train and walked hand in hand outside, feeling that familiar cold breeze of downtown Chicago hit our faces. “C’mon, it’s not that bad. You grew up in New York.”

“Doll, it’s colder here than back home. I’m more worried for you.”

“It’s only 39°F. It’spractically 40! That’s considered warm here.”

“Yeah and back home it’s..” he quickly pulled out his phone and opened up the weather app. “.. it’s 48°F.”

“It could’ve been colder. We’ve had worse.”

He shook his head and stopped in his tracks, turning to face me and adjusted my hat to help keep my head warm. “I just don’t want you getting sick, sweetheart.” My heart fluttered as he took off his scarf to put around me, but I held my hand up stopping him. “Bucky, I’ll be fine – I promise. I grew up here, I’m used to the harsh winters.”

“But you haven’t been here in a few years.”

“I know what to expect.” I smiled and grabbed his scarf, reaching up and wrapping it back around him. “Honestly, seeing you without a scarf would make me feel colder, if that somehow makes sense.” I chuckled. “Just wear it. For me?”

He furrowed his eyebrows and pursed his lips, slowly nodding. I smiled and grabbed his scarf, bringing his head down close to mine and planted a kiss on his lips. “C’mon, let’s go check out Millennium Park. That’s where our tree is located.” He smiled and grabbed my hand in his, letting me lead the way.

We passed by so many stores that had beautiful window decorations that made Bucky want to stop for a moment and check them out, just like many other individuals did to admire the work that went into it. I took out my phone and snapped a few photos of him as discreetly as possible before we continued our way and made it to our destination.

There, people stood behind multiple booths selling their goodies to the people of Chicago. Christmas music played and the smell of baked goods wafted through the air, making me excited to try what people are giving away. I stood next to him, linking our arms together as we waited in line to buy ourselves some hot chocolate.

“I bet this booth is gonna end up being the most popular. This is the one way you got to help stay warm.”

He bought two cups and handed me the first one before grabbing his. We walked off and decided to stand (more like lean) against a rail, overwatching people ice skating in the middle of the park. I brought the cup up to my lips and took a small sip of the hot liquid. “Mmm..” I moaned in delight, savoring the taste of chocolate once it hit my tongue. “Yep, this is how they get ya.” I chuckled. “Once I finish this, I’m gonna want another.”

“Told you.” He laughed and took a sip of his drink. I held the cup in my hands and softly smiled to myself. I’ve been wanting to show Bucky my hometown ever since we got together and what better way to show him than during the holidays. I used to come here when I was younger with my family and we’d just walk around at night and admire the city lights.

Sure, it’s been some time since I’ve done this, but it still feels and looks the same. I heard the snap of a camera and looked up at Bucky, noticing he had his phone in his free hand with a grin on his face. “Smile!”

I laughed and shook my head, covering my face with my other hand as he continued snapping photos of me. “Nooo! I bet I look ridiculous! Delete them!”

“Doll, you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen! You took photos of me. Seems only fair I do the same.”

“You noticed?”

“I did, now smile for me baby.”

I giggled and brought my hand in front of me and puckered my lips, as if blowing a kiss to the camera. “Beautiful.” He looked down at his phone and scrolled through the photos, admiring his work. “I really love this one.” He stopped on the picture of me smiling down at my hot chocolate. “You look cute.” I felt my cheeks heat up with affection towards this man I get to call mine.

“C’mon, let’s go check out that 45 foot tree you’ve been dying to see.” He smiled as I linked our arms together once again and followed him to the biggest tree in the park. People of all ages stood around it taking all kinds of photos. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone,swiping to get to the camera and asked a random person I could find to take a photo of me and Bucky.

They nodded and grabbed my phone, getting ready into position to take a picture. He wrapped his arm around my back and pulled me close to him, while my hand held up the cup of hot chocolate. We both smiled as the flash went off on my phone, snapping a picture.

“Here you go!” They walked towards me and handed me back my device. “Thank you so much!” I quickly went to photos to look at the picture as Bucky walked up to me. “How’d it turn out?” I smiled at him and put my phone back in my pocket.

“Perfect.”

He smiled back at me and turned to his side, something immediately catching his attention.

“Hey, doll?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you get us some food? I just gotta go do somethin’ real quick, I promise. I’ll be right back.” I nodded my head as he quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out a $20 from his wallet and handed it to me. “Go nuts, baby.” He smiled and began walking away. “Where are you going?”

He walked backwards so he could face me and still go to wherever it is he’s planning. “Can’t tell you yet. You’ll find out.” He winked and then he was gone before I could question him further. I looked down at my hot chocolate and drank the last of whatever was left inside. The cups aren’t that big anyway, so it wasn’t a lot. Once that was done, I threw it away in a bin nearby and sighed.

I just shook my shoulders and glanced around the many booths before finding what I was looking for and quickly stood in front of the man selling one of Chicago’s most talked about dishes. Since we’re in the Windy City, I figured he should at least try the all famous Chicago hot dog. A poppy seed bun, mustard, relish, chopped onions, tomatoes, peppers, a cucumber spear and just a dash of celery salt – mmm! There isn’t anything better!

“Thank you! Have a good night!” The man spoke as he handed me back my change so I could put it away. I grabbed the two hot dogs and smiled. “Thank you – you too!” I walked away and took a moment to look at where Bucky went, but couldn’t find him. I walked until I found a bench to sit down on as I waited for him. I felt like I looked like a complete fatass right now. Here I am, with two hot dogs in my hands and one of them already being bit into.

“Hey!” I heard Bucky call out to me as he found me and sat down on the bench. He leaned in and kissed my cheek as I smiled against him and handed him his hot dog. “Thank you.” He took it from my hands as I turned my body towards his as he took a bite out of his food.

“Where did you go?” I asked. “Mmm… I uh..” He chewed his food and licked his top lip as he pointed behind me. “.. Saw somethin’ real cool…” I tried to look at where he motioned to, before he shook his head and lifted his hand to my face. His fingers softly gripped my chin and turned my attention back towards him.

“Uh – uh, let’s just finish this first. I don’t want you to try to figure it out before I show you.” He smiled and took another bite of his hot dog as I let out a chuckle. We sat there watching as people continued to crowd the tree and take photos. With each bite, my mind continued to wonder about whatever “cool” thing he saw. What could he have seen that I didn’t?

I know I haven’t been here in a while, but was there something different that I just didn’t notice before? Did the city of Chicago add somethin’ new since I’ve been gone? Most likely, if I’m being honest. It is a city.

“I know your head is just racing with what my little surprise could be.” He laughed and scrunched up the wrapper in his hands, finished with his food. “Once you finish eating, then we’ll – ” I plopped the last bit of hot dog into my mouth and scrunched up the wrapper.

He just looked at me with an amused smile as I dusted off my hands and swallowed the last remaining bit of food in my mouth. “Done.”

“Damn little lady, you sure can put it away.” I laughed and playfully hit his shoulder. “Shut up.” He stood up and held his hand out for me to take. I slid my hand in his as he lifted me up and grabbed my garbage along with his and threw it away in the trash bin. “Alright..” he tilted his head to the side as if to say ‘let’s go’. “Follow me.”

He grabbed my hand in his and led me out into the streets of Chicago. There, a few feet away, a horse carriage waited to take its next passengers on a trip. I slowed down for a moment as he looked back at me, his smile not leaving his face.

“You didn’t..”

He nodded.

“I did.”

I bit my lip to try to stop the smile forming on my face as he led us both to the carriage. He held up his phone to show he had purchased a ticket and the man in the front seat nodded. “Hop in.”

I stepped inside and sat down on the seats, Bucky following right after me as he sat next to me. We got ourselves comfortable and then we were off. The stomping of the horses hooves hitting the streets of Chicago echoed as the city lights twinkled in the night sky.

“What do ya think, sweetheart? You like it?” He asked as I smiled and nodded my head. “I love it!” He cuddled up closer to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, my hand instantly reached up so I could intertwine our fingers together. “This was so unbelievably sweet of you to do this.”

“Anything for my best girl.” He leaned in and kissed my temple. “You know I love surprising you.” I looked up at him and noticed a little white flurry had landed on top of his head, a telltale sign indicating that it had started to snow.

“And here it comes. It’s gonna be a bitch to get home now.”

I laughed and snuggled up to him. “Ahh, we’ll be okay. It’s not fat snow.” The view almost looked like I had ripped it out of a Hallmark movie with how slowly the snow was falling and the Christmas lights hung on every street corner. He lifted himself up a bit and reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

He opened the camera app and held it up so we could both be seen on the screen. “Can you please smile for the camera, baby?” I looked up and smiled widely as he snapped a photo. He leaned down and kissed my cheek as I let out a laugh, thus resulting in him taking another. After a few more, we decided we were done for the night and he put his phone back into his pocket.

“You know, I gotta say, I’m really happy you brought me here.” He smiled down at me. “Really?” he nodded and glanced up at the twinkling lights. “Even though it is 39°F and it’s colder here than it is back home.. but all things considered though, I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“I did too.”

Once our carriage ride was came to a stop, we both knew it was over. We looked around and noticed we were right back where we first started. Bucky hopped off first and quickly turned around and stretched his hand out towards me to help me climb off. “Such a gentleman.” I took his hand as he helped me down.

“I can’t have you accidentally falling on my watch.” He laughed as I playfully rolled my eyes as we began walking away. “Hey, that was one time. That extra step on the stairs had it out for me.”

“Oh, of course it did, sweetheart. That’s why you had Tony install rails.”

“I’m your damsel in distress. I need my knight in shining armor to catch me and if you’re not there, my rails will be.”

“Well, not all rails are trustworthy. Someone even break apart and let you fall..” I gasped and hit his shoulder. “I thought we said no trauma dumping this week!”

“Sorry! Sorry, I forgot!”

~~~~

I hope y’all liked it! Please let me know your thoughts! Likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

[tightjeansjavi]

2023 Tumblr Top 10 Posts ♡

credit to @trulybetty for coming up with this idea for us all to celebrate our accomplishments in 2023! 🤍

If you’d like to do your own Top 10, here is the link (I decided to include more than just my top 10)

While stats/numbers aren’t everything, it was really cool to see how much I have progressed as a writer! I’ll never forget the feeling of posting my very first fic and quickly realizing that I was in deep 🥹

In 2023 I wrote 49 fics in total (not including individual chapters)

3 post!outbreak Joel series

Burning in a Hopeless Dream

Slow Hands

Not a Survivalist Girl (co-written with @chaotic-mystery)

4 Short Series

Who Do You Belong To Mr. Miller? (2parts) 4.0k notes #2

Jail Bird (2parts)

The Menu

Endings Create New Beginnings

15 one-shots

Love Me Tender

Feeling More Human 1.6k notes #4

Tongue Tied 4.8k notes #1

Like Real People Do 1.9k notes #3

Sing me a Lullaby Darlin’

You’re Fallin’ in Love

MaryJane DazeLand

Lazuli

Mornin’ Sunshine 1.4k notes #6

as natural as another leg around you in the bed frame 1k notes #9

about what my hands and my body done

common tongue of your loving me

I’ll have a blue heartache for certain

Photograph

The Skeletons I Wanted to Bury

2 pre!outbreak/no!outbreak/AU Joel Series

blue jeans n’Texas dreams

That Girl is a Problem

14 one-shots

Sunday Scaries

From Eden

Barbie Girl

Dinner & Diatribes

Girl, I’ve never loved one like you

your mind, your needs

The Birthday Boy

take a moment to breathe

honey pot 1.3k notes #8

his eyes still glisten

Tinsel

sentiments n’bubbly

Somethin’ Stupid

Unwrap me

1 Javier Peña series

Cigarettes & Feelings

5 one-shots

Swipe His Nose Like a Credit Card 1.5k notes #5

Phone Sex..Amirite? 1k notes #10

Tie Me Up Like I’m Surprised

Pool Sex with Javi Peña

I’d love to see me from your point of view

1 Dieter Bravo Series

The Hills Have Eyes

2 one-shots

‘Atta Girl

My Favorite Part

Other:

Pedro Pascal Characters Eating Pussy 1.3k notes #7 (co-written with @loquaciousferret, @peterhollandkait & @chaotic-mystery

Joel x Javi P x f!reader threesome

I’m a firm believer in sharing your accomplishments, both big and small, and to all of the writers, I am proud of each and every one of you 🤍 thank you for an incredible 10 months of writing, and I truly cannot wait to see what 2024 holds!

please feel free to post your own accomplishments for everyone to see! We all deserve to celebrate ourselves 🤍

-Gi

[electricalcheese]

Who is this silly goober?

→　Heyo, I’m Electricalcheese. I go by Electrical, Cheese, or somethin similar to that.

→　he/him she/her they/them pronouns for me!! i don't really care which set of pronouns you use

→　The main fandoms I am in are Keeper of the Lost Cities and the Riordanverse.

→　In general, my blog is mainly about art (with me complaining blabbering and ranting about nothing along with it). Sometimes I post my thoughts I get randomly. I also reblog things i like!!!!!

→　Generally, I post about what I'm addicted to most, which alternates a lot. Currently it's KOTLC.

→　Current profile picture credit: My art, Mr. Sunshine from Block Tales

→　Feel free to tag me in any posts!! (can you tell i dont have friends) (PLEASE I NEED FRIENDS I SWEAR I'M NOT DESPERATE THO!!)

→　I’m open to any art suggestions, just keep it within the fandoms I’m in. (I love doing art requests though please do so!!!!!)

→　Please note that It may take a while for me to get to art requests! Sometimes I get drained after doing a few, please don't mind that!

→　Tags (i might not tag some posts correctly so some things might not appear)

!cheese arts - my art

!cheese reblogs - reblogged posts (note that i don't use this tag often anymore!)

!cheese stuffs - random stuff (alt: shat post 😹)

!cheese answers - answered questions from my asks

!cheese ocs - my ocs (mainly rbs from my oc sideblog or my main persona)

→　Oh yeah my carrd and strawpage!! these links have my general informations, such as miscellaneous stuff about me.

→　My cool side blogs: @khaoticpurity @kotlc-preface-daily

I'm gonna yap a lot under here, so beware!

→　Favorite characters: i enjoy dex dizznee, fitz vacker [<- kotlc], magnus chase, apollo [<- rrverse], and skateboard [<- phighting]

(Thank you Kaiju for Skatebald image)

→　When I started my fixations if you wanna know!!!!! (is it fixation idk bro i've just been obsessed with them)

PJO - Late April 2022

PHIGHTING! - Late May 2023

KOTLC - Early September 2023

→　Other stuff I like:

solitaire (the card game) (i played it so much to the point i envisioned it when i closed my eyes)

astronomy 😈😈

weezer 🎉🎉

femtanyl (not the dwuggy wuggies i promise) (unless..)

→　Also I get free palenstine asks a lot, just a heads up, I CANNOT DONATE MONEY!!! I'm a minor!!!!

Thanks for reading, G’bye.

→　Secret instagram (not really but it used to be private)

[softguarnere]

Like An Echo (Like More Than)

The Sleep Paralysis Demon in the Kitchen

Shifty Powers x ofc (modern/college!au)

Summary: The next morning she finds an empty chip bag in the garbage can while Bill is making breakfast. She doesn’t say anything. Partly because Bill is in the middle of a story, and partly because she’s not entirely sure how to tell her best friend that she thinks a sleep paralysis demon is eating their snacks.

A/N: Happy Birthday Zenie! As promised, here's some modern au shenanigans in honor of the oc who's been living rent free in my mind for almost a year now 🫶🏼 And thank you to the wonderful @liebgotts-lovergirl for bouncing this idea around with me!

Warnings: none

Taglist: @liebgotts-lovergirl @latibvles @liebgotts-lovergirl @ithinkabouttzu @lieutenant-speirs

It’s been a long time since Zenie had to label which food in the fridge belonged to her. Matthew used to scrawl Matt across anything and everything while Marilyn printed her name in neatly looping cursive. Mama always insisted that they print their first names since there had been so many arguments over who had put the letter M on what. Zenie was always able to get away with putting a simple Z on her leftovers – the one upside of having the least important letter of the alphabet to herself.

She stopped doing it when her siblings finished high school and went off to college. That was around the time that it became obvious that maybe the McGlamery siblings hadn’t been taking each other’s food despite the bold Sharpie letters and the threatening messages claiming the contents of the containers were poisonous. Their father had been the culprit all along. And unfortunately for her, she was stuck sharing a house with him. So if Zenie had something really good, she just started hiding it in the fridge’s lowest drawer and burying it under foods that he didn’t like. Out of sight, out of mind.

Now, looking into the fridge and finding an empty space where she knows she left her takeout leftovers last night, she’s starting to question if she needs to break out a marker and start labeling everything that belongs to her.

She always assumed that as a fellow youngest sibling, Bill would feel her pain. There are only two of them in the apartment. If he wanted some of her leftovers, he could have at least asked. They’re the only two living in this apartment; it’s not like there’s anyone else to blame.

She doesn’t have time to think about that now, though. All she can do is grab one of his protein drinks in retaliation and head off to class.

The apartment she shares with Bill is just like any other – small. It’s a good thing that they’ve become such close friends, otherwise the lack of privacy might have made things awkward. Now the close proximity presents her with an upside: she can pay careful attention and make sure that Bill doesn’t take her food again.

Because the more she thinks about it, the more she’s willing to let this first offense go. She’ll only say something if he does it again. And based on the pause in his story and the confused furrow of his brows as he leans into the fridge to take out one of his protein drinks, she can tell that he was not expecting a retaliation. She’s evened up the score.

“So this Babe,” Zenie prompts, trying to hide her satisfied smile. “He your new best friend or something?”

Bill leans back from the fridge, shaking his head as he removes one of his drinks. He gives it one more confused look before he turns his attention back to his story. “Hmm? What, you worried about bein’ replaced or somethin’?”

She’s always worried about being replaced, but she’s not about to tell him that. Instead, she shrugs. “Just curious about when I can meet your new shadow, that’s all.”

Bill doesn’t mention the lack of protein drinks. “I dunno. Like I said, we met in that drama class that I’m takin’ for my art credit. Turns out we grew up near each other. We hit it off. Now we hang out sometimes.” He nods, satisfied with his explanation. “I think you’d like him, actually. He’s come over a few times, but it seems like you’re never around. He’s got some crappy roommates, so I told him he could crash here if he ever needs to.”

He must come over on Wednesdays. Those are the days when Zenie meets up with Shifty – something no one knows about and something that no one needs to know about. She bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling at the thought of their shared secret. Her friend doesn’t need to know about her romantic escapades . . . yet.

When she feels confident that she won’t smile and give herself away, Zenie shrugs again. “Maybe I’ll run into him soon.”

“Let’s hope,” Bill says, giving her the sort of mischievous look that she’s come to learn mean that he has something on his mind. He nods, more to himself then to her when he repeats, “I think you’d like him.”

There’s a psychology major in one of her language classes. Lewis Nixon. They’ve talked a few times while waiting for class to start. Now, Zenie wonders if they’ve spoken enough to fill the necessary prerequisites of small talk so that she can jump to a bigger, more personal question: are sleepwalking and sleep paralysis genetic?

Marilyn used to sleepwalk. Sometimes Zenie would wake up to find her moving about their shared room moving things and muttering to herself, almost always about finding some assignment she was convinced she had misplaced and needed to find before school the next morning. On those nights, Zenie could guide her sister back to bed and hope she would stay there so that they could both sleep. But Marilyn also sometimes complained about waking up feeling frozen and seeing things she couldn’t quite explain in their room. That idea terrified Zenie to no end, so they didn’t talk about it much.

Now though, Zenie wonders if maybe she also inherited some of whatever caused Marilyn to see those things. Because a rustling noise is pulling her from the clutches of sleep, and when she cracks her eyes and squints toward the kitchen in the dim light of the tv screen, she swears she sees someone standing in front of the fridge eating chips.

Bill is asleep on the other end of the couch, seemingly unbothered by it. He’s a pretty light sleeper. If this isn’t waking him, then maybe it’s just a figment of her imagination. Besides, they fell asleep on the couch trying to watch a movie. There was probably an ad for chips somewhere in there that slid into her subconscious. 

She brushes it off and goes back to sleep.

The next morning she finds an empty chip bag in the garbage can while Bill is making breakfast. She doesn’t say anything. Partly because Bill is in the middle of a story, and partly because she’s not entirely sure how to tell her best friend that she thinks a sleep paralysis demon is eating their snacks.

She confides in Shifty instead. Because if you can’t tell your secret boyfriend about that kind of thing, then who can you tell?

“Sleep paralysis demon?” That little crease that Zenie loves so much appears between Shifty’s eyebrows as he thinks it over, just like it always does when he’s really concentrating. “I think I’ve heard Skinny talk about that kind of thing. Can’t say I’ve ever seen one myself, though.”

“My sister’s used to terrify her,” Zenie says. “But this was just, like, a guy. Standing there. Eating our chips.”

The crease on Shifty’s forehead deepens. “And the chips were really gone?”

When Zenie nods, he sighs and reaches across the table to take her hand. He’s unsure what to do or say, but at least he can try to offer her some form of comfort. Even if they’re in the middle of a café and run the risk of getting caught.

“Do you think maybe . . . someone is breakin’ in and stealin’ your food?”

The thought is somehow even more terrifying than a figment of her mind taking the Cool Ranch Doritos. She shudders.

“Sorry,” Shifty apologizes, squeezing her hand. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Zenie tries to smile. “It’s fine. Something in my own head just seemed a lot more manageable than a robber who seems to have a thing for my leftovers.”

Shifty nods. “Yeah. City livin’ takes some gettin’ used to.” He lowers his voice and makes a point of looking conspiratorially over both shoulders, like he’s worried that someone might be spying on them. It makes Zenie giggle. “And these people think us country folk are the strange ones!”

When they’ve finished their coffee and pastries and are about to part ways, they hug, just like they always do. Shifty squeezes her tight and it makes her feel safe.

“You know,” he whispers. “If you don’t feel safe, you can always come spend the night at my place.”

With her face pressed into his shoulder, she wonders if he can feel the heat that rushes to her cheeks when he suggests it. Shifty, offering to protect her. She could kiss him right here in front of everyone and blow their cover.

A Kind Bar she was saving. Roughly a fourth of her secret stash of chocolate for cramps. Some of Bill’s Taco Bell leftovers – though oddly enough, he never mentions it. A banana. Carrot sticks and hummus. And at one point, the Digornio Pizza they keep in the back of the freezer as a just in case.

She actually witnesses that one. She gets up in the middle of the night for some water and comes face to face with the man – or demon, because the jury is technically still out on that one – sitting on their counter and eating it hot out of the oven. They freeze when they see each other. Neither says anything. Zenie does an about-face and books it back to her room, where she locks the door and hides under the blankets for the rest of the night, still thirsty.

Her throat is dry and she’s so exhausted that she ends up cancelling her usual plans with Shifty so that she can go home and nap. And when she feels a little better, she’s going to talk to Bill about getting a new lock for their door. Because although she didn’t find the pizza box in the trash the next morning, she’s tired of having all the food disappear, and she no longer cares if she sounds insane when she admits to what she’s been seeing.

There are voices coming from the apartment when Zenie stumbles in. Bill appears in an instant, looking part confused and part happy.

“Thought it was you,” he says. “Thought I’d come check.”

“Thank you,” Zenie says.

Checking who was home and the methods for doing so were something that they had to work out after they became friends and moved in together. Bill comes from a large family and has spent most of his life calling out “who’s there?!” or yelling out the name of whoever he thinks has just walked in. Zenie, meanwhile, quickly learned that having her friend make sure it was her by yelling out her name was enough to make the oxygen leave the room and the walls close in. Turns out that years of having her father yell people’s names from the other room whenever he was upset really did a number on her. Long story short, now Bill rushes to the door to make sure that it’s Zenie entering the apartment and not a robber. The last bit is a little ironic, considering the circumstances.

“You look tired.”

“Exhausted. I’m gonna go take a nap.” Then she’ll talk to him about the locks. And maybe apologize for privately accusing him of stealing her leftovers while she’s at it. She can always buy him a new protein drink.

“Hey, real fast –“ Bill motions for her to follow him into the living room. She does, even though her bed is calling her name. “ – got someone I wantcha to meet. Zenie, this is Babe.”

“Hi, nice to – “ The boy’s voice putters out the second that he and Zenie catch sight of each other. His eyes go wide. Zenie can’t be exactly sure what her face does. Based on the reactions of Bill and this Babe fellow, it can’t be good.

No, not Babe. Or, yes, Babe, but more importantly, the figure who she’s been catching in the kitchen eating all their food!

The words tumble from Zenie’s sleep-deprived mind to her mouth before she can stop them. “My sleep paralysis demon?”

Babe’s face turns as red as his hair. He must grapple for words for a second, because his mouth opens and closes several times.

Bill beats him to the punch. “Your what?” He moves an accusatory finger between them. “Have you guys met before?”

“Oh, we’ve more than met,” Zenie says. “This guy owes me a pizza, a bag of chips, and basically a week’s worth of my groceries!”

Even though she’s caught him sitting on the counter eating pizza in the middle of the night, Babe can’t look Zenie in the eye. He scratches the back of his neck and cringes as he says to Bill, “I think maybe I should return that spare key you gave me.”  

[motherboardmania]

PINNED POST

denver + it/its + adult we're an intersex ambiguine aro system, n proud to be disabled!

check out our art tag and our oc tag want somethin drawn for you? commissions are always open! feel free to use my art for pfps/banners/etc, but dont credit me with my username, please! you dont have to credit (unless someone asks directly abt who drew it) but if you really want to, just credit as Denver or Denver W.

i like object shows/camps/comics, valve games (+ adjacent games/fanworks/etc), furry fandom/subculture related things, and tech. i also play and draw and have fun and smile

no dni, ill just block if i believe it would improve my tumblr experience.

tagging info below cut

#denver art - art tag

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cw tags are generally formatted like "#blood cw", and i try to tag common triggers. these include blood, organs, gore, death, bugs, spiders, flashing, loud, etc.

i also tag topics i talk about frequently, or plan to talk about frequently 👍 some are tagged as acronyms and some are tagged as the full title. Sorry for inconsistency its our blog and we dont gaf

[charbear1125]

I have an idea for a shitty horror short film to go on YouTube or somethin

Film nerds feel free to use this idea just credit me if you do

So the film would be about one of those shitty uncanny valley ass ai generated images coming to life and trying to kill the 'artist' who generated it and those around them, and the ai image is like explicitly evil by nature and the 'artist' is evil for trying to make it that way

[capsekai]

We've hand created a wallpaper! Raven wallpaper for RP resource uses! Please CREDIT & REBLOG if using. Please credit if you REMIX this into a new format! Why? Because i just spent four-six hours hand doing this and well -- Sharing is caring!

Folder where the files are

IF YOU REALLY LIKE US PLEASE CHECK OUR KO-FI!

dont' worry the NON watermarked version is on the drive :) This was part of a commission for @wretched-hero / @earthnicity Which just basically (in jest) means that capsekai is "U BUSY? CAN YOU MAKE ME SOMETHIN" :P However while we don't have SET COMMISSION PRICES feel free to ask us and we shall see!

[cababooey]

did someone say trans lesbian moms?

* image used is from the comics but edits are entirely my own. please do not repost..