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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 1 month ago

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tuesday again 9/24/2024

you might be wondering “is my dear friend tumblr user girlfriendsofthegalaxy still unemployed?” the answer is yes. take this cat off my hands please i don’t think he’s causing the unemployment but he certainly isn’t helping

listening

via Wendy @dying-suffering-french-stalkers, Huoy Meas' ប្រគល់ក្ដីស្នេហ៍មកខ្ញុំវិញ. figuring out what this incredibly zippy Cambodian rock song is named and what it's about was really difficult bc spotify is a bane upon this earth and won't let you fucking copy-paste and OCR was not working on the Khmer script. i ended up listening to the first couple seconds of each of her songs on apple music, and finally figured out this roughly translates to Give Me Back My Love and is about begging a fuckboy for closure.

youtube

via the spotify discover weekly, Night Club's Pretty Girls Do Ugly Things. all Night Club's songs sound the same so if you like one, great news! i had this song on for a full gregorian hour bc, i am only a tiny bit ashamed to say, i was storyboarding a The Man With No Name fancam to this. i think it would go pretty hard.

Smoke you like a cigarette Choke you like a lariat Fatalistic tourniquet Do you want more?

reading

thank you mackintosh.

i did not Adore any of these comics from the library. i sort of enjoyed Night of the Ghoul, a one-volume TPB by Scott Snyder and Francesco Francavilla. i think ive blogged about this before but every once in a while i'll get a bee in my bonnet to read some horror comics even though i am a giant baby about horror movies.

Night of the Ghoul is about how you can't save your dad from PTSD but also about a lost horror film and also about the extremely dad behavior of tracking down every scrap of info about an auteur. there's also a monster.

the subtle art changes from present day to the remains of the film to the non-film flashbacks are well done, imo. the cover screams mignola but the inside pages are really fun pulp nonsense. i love a piece of genre writing that rolls around and delights in being a piece of genre writing.

im doing my level best not to get sucked into tiktok but i DO love watching this lady revive antique nail polish and look for dupes for shades from like the 20s. she found an almost exact dupe for a shade produced during wwii which is crazy insane to me!!!

watching

The Asphalt Jungle (1950, dir. Huston), it's a very painterly heist noir. i even like Sterling Hayden in one of the more prominent roles, even though i think he generally has the appeal of undercooked dough.

much like Fritz Lang's M, it presents the criminal element of the city as its own class with its own reputation and reference systems. it got in some trouble with the censors for having a VERY clearly laid out heist plan and execution. it's also got the babiest Marilyn Monroe in one of her earliest roles

this was such a gloriously messy movie. everyone is such a fucking mess. this woman only known as Doll is heartbreakingly, head over heels in love with Sterling Hayden's character. she's a little flighty and bumbling and silly, but determined! they're constantly orbiting the gravitational weight of her desire for this man and desire for a real life with this man. and that's just one subplot! she has maybe five minutes total screentime! she should have gotten a supporting actress oscar!!! everyone acted their fucking hearts out and it was so much fun to watch!

playing

monument valley is in the netflix games library this month (i don't actually know what their liscencing agreements would even look like, they and the studios they worked with were very tightlipped about that when they were rolling this out three years ago) but i assume it's going to be on the service for a while. i have never played this game, which makes me feel a little bit like a bad gamer. you can tell it's ten years old from some of the color and texture choices, but WOW did literally everyone take inspiration from this game.

this is the platonic ideal of a phone game. i get why everyone went insane about it and there was a brief boom of geometry-based puzzle mobile games. it is MUCH much harder now to get people to pay money to play a game that has a planned endpoint and planned number of levels, so netflix is a good home for it.

i was often frustrated but always delighted. the level below involves making something happening that made me genuinely gasp out loud in glee. well worth the annoyance of downloading the netflix app and scrolling through the poorly labeled and poorly sorted carousel of games.

great retrospective, a bit about how you need to have tiny teams go off and just kind of fuck around and bring weird stuff back, and a lot about how they actually designed the levels

The end result had a pixel-perfect axonometric aesthetic that not only went hard on its references to Dutch master artist and printmaker Maurits Cornelis Escher, but also dug deep into classic video game design, going right back to early arcade machines and 8-bit titles. Each of the ten levels is like a piece of fine furniture, built with invisible dovetail joints and inlaid with marquetry, stuffed with secret compartments and little design flourishes. Gray cites the world of theatre and stage design, as well as graphics, as important keystones in the way the levels were constructed. ‘Ken would always talk about flower arranging, and how you frame a silhouette of a level on the screen,’ he says.

making

update on the Phantom Menace fabric: pinked the raw edges and threw it in the laundry again with a very large quantity of vinegar. 50% poly was too high for it to really do anything, which is interesting. it didn’t lessen the seam edge effects either, which is a little annoying bc the seams were so gigantic and that’s a good chunk of fabric to lose. i am going to buy a camp shirt pattern at some point when i have money again but for now it goes in The Box

also! thrifted a pack of o-rings for jars for a dollar and finally put my grains etc in my pretty jars. they’re going to live in the pantry but today they live out on the countertop

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #Spotify #SoundCloud

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ghostsvacuumcleaner · 1 year ago

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Okay, so I just read Salvatore and like, I've had this thought in my head for a while now. Kinda hoping for smut? I was thinking of a fan fiction of Leon's birthday. He comes home from the office, most of the lights in the house/apartment are out. There's candles and a birthday cake for him. And since his last name is Kennedy, like JFK, The reader is naked but does what Marilyn Monroe did for JFK'S birthday and sing him happy birthday!

Okay so this request was really fun to write! You just gave me the most plausible excuse to write some more porn, which honestly it's my favorite thing to do. Thank you for the trust and for this amazing idea and request; and I hope you enjoy it ♥

Happy b-day, Agent Kennedy |3.4k

ao3 | masterlist ✦ Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x f! reader ✦ Summary: Its Leon's birthday. He thought you went out for a business trip, when actually, you have a little surprise for him at home. ✦ TW: NSFW MINORS DNI, explicit, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, smut, very much porn, soft dom leon, p in v, unprotected, lots of dirty talk, very pornographic, bit of fluff in the end

Leon was staring at his computer screen with little to no concentration at this point. He had spent the entire day trying to form connections between two clues he received on someone that the government had been sure was working for Umbrella. He sighed in frustration and let his body fall behind in the big chair; squeezed his eyes, he was tired.

So tired, the clock hit 8pm and he was still far from home. So tired he apparently forgot a very essential fact: his very own birthday.

Realization fell over him when he unblocked his phone screen and checked the last text you’ve sent that day - a big red heart, after a cute “Happy birthday, bae! I’m sorry for not being there with u. Will compensate. x”. He closed his eyes, mindly damning himself for his workaholic behavior, how could he forget about his own birthday? “Must have lost my fucking mind, it’s drinking day.” He muttered to himself, before getting up and starting to pack up.

As much as he wanted you there with him, he was comprehensive to the fact that it wasn’t your choice not to be: you received an emergency call from work that same day earlier, and needed to pick up the first available plane to Seattle. Leon felt like a needy dog: always near you, always with his hands all over you – always checking you out. He didn’t want to look even more desperate about you and grumble about something out of your control, he understood better than anyone that work came first and foremost in situations like that.

He couldn’t help but feel frustrated to know that you wouldn’t be waiting for him when he got home; a box of beer for each, classic rock playing and you – dancing with you. Eating you. His expectations were put down, he would get drunk alone, listen to his songs alone, and probably find some relief in those polaroids of yours he affectionately kept to himself.

He gathered the documents and papers on the case and put it together in his backpack, turned off the lights and went out; let a deep sigh while going to the elevator towards the parking lot to pick up his car and go home.

━ ⟡ ━

Leon held two boxes of beer along with a bag with a few snacks and a tiny cupcake. He gave a little wave to a neighbor with a small, gentle smile on his face as he fit the key into the door lock and spinned it; to his surprise, the door was already open. His eyebrows instinctively frowned, he felt a cold feeling rising through his spine, he got worried. When working with what he worked with, caution became part of your daily routine; he held the bag in one hand and opened the door slowly, his adrenaline running through his veins, he was ready for anything.

There was a tiny source of light lighting up the spacious and cozy apartment living room; the light trembled through the shadows on the walls; candles. They were everywhere, some white, others red. An intoxicating, delicious smell floated through the air – your smell. Your perfume seemed to be deep-rooted everywhere. There was a small homemade cake on the center table, twenty-nine little candles lit up on top of it.

The agent's alert state disappeared almost instantly, immediate relief swelling his lungs and releasing the most delightful breath of his life, and he couldn't contain the little mischievous smile that formed in the corner of his lips. He took a few steps forward to reach one of the chairs and leave the bags he carried on it, and intended to find you right after.

Before he could even do anything, at the moment his figure gave a generous space between himself and the door, it shut itself behind him; Leon felt a shiver crawling through his spine, his stomach contracted slightly feeling your soft, naughty hands caressing his belly, raising his shirt up just above his navel, just enough so you could touch his skin under it with ease.

Your arms wrapped him, and your body clung to his back. His mind became white, slave to the sensations that you caused him; he could know by the perfect shape of your breasts against his back, and your spiked and delicious nipples, that you were naked. He felt a scratch coming down through his belly, the heat beginning to appear and burning his skin after every touch; your sharp nails scratched the skin of his chest slowly, those hypnotic movements of yours made him feel the blood flowing through his veins increasingly stronger, warmer, needier.

“Happy birthday to you…” You started to sing, your soft low voice tickled against his ear. You had to stand on the tip of your feet to reach him; one of your hands rose through his chest to his neck, causing him to drop his head back. You left a slow kiss followed by a roaring laugh down against his ear. “Happy birthday, Agent Kennedy... Happy birthday, to you,” you finished, the intonation of your voice seemed to move with every screw inside his head.

“Full of surprises aren’t you, babe?” He asked in a rough, low voice, seeming like he could hardly control the excitement that at that point was already apparent in his voice.

Leon closed his eyes with a smile on his face, he licked his lips slowly, already able to feel the resistance of his pants straining against his hardened cock starting to bother him.

“Only for you. A special birthday deserves a special gift, hm?”

You smiled against his skin as you traced gentle, slow kisses against his jaw, his neck, left a bite there. Your hand squeezed slightly around his neck, your nails briefly crawling onto the skin with some traces of a recently shaved beard. Leon let out a low purr, the desire and tension almost unbearable to him at that point; his hand abruptly grabbed onto your wrist, and held firmly as he turned around himself.

In a matter of seconds, you felt him pulling you closer, his other hand grabbed your waist with desire as he attacked you with a ferocious kiss. You repaid in the same intensity, your arm wrapped around his neck, your hand grabbing the outstanding blonde threads that got messy with the intensity of the movement in your embrace, your body burned - his hand digging your hip, your ass - he tightened his grip heavily, as if he stated - your body was his.

“Want to drive me crazy, don’t you?” He muttered against your skin as he intensified his wet, messy kisses against your jaw and neck. His arm contracted in pure force when he raised you with one hand, causing you to wrap your legs around him in an intimate hug; you sighed in pleasure. That side of his belonged to you, and only you. No one else could provoke him that way, make him that horny and needy with only a touch, only a plead. That one Leon you had taking you, ravishing you right now was the death of you; when he held you tight, squeezed you with so much will, marked your skin with his bare hands.

“I like when you get wild, babe don’t blame me...” you hummed, trying to contain your heavy breath and the panting noises that came out of your mouth. “It’s your fault, I’m such a whore for you.” you smiled mischievous, biting your lip.

One of his hands still held you against him, the other moved to your neck as he moved into the combined kitchen next to the living room room; as his hands climbed over your body around the curve of your hips, he pressed you hard against the kitchen bench. Your back hit the cold surface and his body projected against yours, his weight immobilized you and you couldn’t hold back a soft moan when you started feeling the bulge on his pants pressing against the core between your legs.

“How am I supposed to not think about you all of the time when you’re like this…” he muttered, pressing his restrained cock against you once again. “Grab it.” he ordered, and you did it. Your hand squeezed into his rock hard cock through the thick fabric of his pants, starting to do slow and soft movements; he bite his lip and let out a growl in yearning.

Leon lowered himself, his mouth skillfully descended through your neck leaving a wet trace through your skin, his hand tightened around one of your breasts as if it were his favorite toy; you purred when he increased his grip strength, and breathe out deeply when he let go, the man’s lip suckling one of your nipples, his tongue slowly rolling into your most sensitive skin.

“No, you look at me.” He commanded, and one of his hands abruptly held your face by your jaw and forced you to lock your eyes onto his. He glared at you, lust overflowing from his look. Leon seeked to see your reactions, mindly recording them in his thoughts; to eat you alive, ravish you. One of his hands stimulated your nipple, the other squeezed raw your breast giving his mouth enough space to consume it. “Good...” he praised, as his kisses descended through your stomach, belly, fuck.

“L-Leon... Ah, fuck...” you purred, your body melting in pleasure against his mouth.

You were indecently trying to control your breath, but his slow movements seemed to destroy any part of you that was capable of self-control. Your hips instinctively moved against the volume in his pants, but Leon didn’t seem determined to finish you off quickly. He wanted to take his time with you.

He pushed your body backwards against the bench, raising your legs around his shoulders; his head found space between your thighs, one of his hands palmed your stomach, pressing it down against the bench while the other tightened against one of your thighs. His tongue parted your folds in a smooth, almost insensitive movement. You felt your breath catching on your throat.

“You wanted that? You seem needy, darling.” he teased, the hand that caressed your thigh being replaced by now a finger movement, his index and middle finger parting your folds steadily leaving your clit even more exposed to him. “So wet this little cunt, aw...” he whispered, suckling you slowly. His body trembled and you frowned in pleasure with his tongue twirling around your clit as he traced slow kisses and slow suckles and velvety kisses against your core, your juices flowing through your thighs mixed with the spittle he was leaving there.

You growled in response, a submissive purr, a proof of your desperate need for him — more, of him. His hand against your belly intensified your sensations and made you squirm under him, your body started to slowly and autonomically move against his, your hip pushing yourself in a thrust against his mouth; you felt your conscience drop further every time he’d moan against you, like he was eating the most delicious meal he ever had in his lifetime.

“You close, aren’t ya?” he muttered with a naughty smile, why did he had to know you so well.

You lied. You were ashamed of how quick you felt you’d come. Tried to push him away from you, vain efforts - he ignored your hand and your push, and started to only push you harder towards your climax. He couldn’t hold his own needs by seeing you squirm ever so willingly onto his hands, that at this point, couldn’t help themselves but to work on his belt in record timing. He unbuckled it, unzipped his combat pants with ease just enough so he could pull down his boxers. His cock bobbled out in a very deserved relief, gleaming wet in desire.

Grabbing tight onto his length, Leon finally started pumping himself in slow, hard movements - masturbating himself to the obscene picture of you spreading your legs wide to him right now; everything about it was enticing to him: your wet cunt, your teary eyes while you were seeming so dumb, trying to hold back your orgasm, take off his control of you. You could hear the low and slicky sound of his movements while he was eating your pussy off with pleasure.

“Stop being foolish, my dummy baby… come for me.” he asked, with a pleading expression. “On my tongue, c’mon…”

“Leon, babe no- s-stop I’m- I can’t hold it longer…” you warned, and you were right - your eyebrows frowned in a painful, pleasured expression; your body started moving against your will stopping you from even trying to get away from his tongue. Your orgasm got you slowly, not on a surprise - like a very slow flowing sensation down your lower belly. You felt your body stopping for once, your feets squeezing themselves while Leon felt the little trembling pulses of your clit against his mouth.

“Delicious,” he whispered, licking off his lips and tasting every little piece of your slick he could possibly have. “You’re delicious.”

Another slow lick of his between your folds made you spasm a bit, you cursed under your breath before he smirked and left your pussy to rest coming up to you, kissing your body along the way, stomach, collar, mouth. He got rid of his shirt in record timing - you could feel his wet cock against your thighs, and so he pulled you out the bench and backed off slightly. The sudden void between your bodies made you whimper in need, but when you interrupted your kiss looking forward to complaining, the image of his got to you like a punch on your lower belly just again.

Shirtless; his pants open only enough so his cock was there, hanging ever so hard, twitching in need, reddened by the desire - pulsating, his arm contracted by the movements he was doing, pumping his length while staring you, drinking you in, licking off your slick from his own lips.

He took you again, roughly putting you on your back and you couldn’t help but to mischievously smile, a naughty look on your face while your hands palmed the bench surface. His gaze was locked on your small figure under him; like a little bitch of his. A good, little bitch he had all to himself.

“See how you get me… Fuck, can’t even hold myself, make me look like a teenager all again.” he hummed, feeling your wetness with a hand that palmed your cunt entirely, making you space out your legs. You could feel his tip against your folds now, tracing a path between them - it made you burn, tremble. “You want it? Yeah?” he asked, torturing you, finding it very amusing how your voice would get thinner and thinner, needier and needier.

“Yes, please.” you pleaded, biting your lip already so wet the sole contact of his cock with your core was making a nasty noise.

Leon wanted to make you beg some more; he wanted to, you knew it. He wanted to see you asking, pleading for more so helplessly, but he, himself couldn’t hold back any longer, he craved you. He took a handful of your hair and pulled it to him, making you arch your back just enough for your head to almost touch his chest; you were so drenched you needed no stretching, no preparations and he so knew it when he slowly fit his length onto your cunt. Your walls tightened to the feeling of his cock, the thickness making you let out a little cry in pleasure; he bent his head back, little drops of sweat forming on his head from how hard he was holding himself from not ravishing you restlessly for once.

He purred, and you felt that tip of his poke your insides the moment he fit the whole length; he stood, giving you a couple seconds to get used to this new filling of your empty space. God, how you wish you were filled all of the fucking time.

He kissed your neck, and breath heavy against your ear, none of you being able of forming complete senseful phrases at the moment; his hand was digging onto your waist, his body towering over yours, his weight pressing you even further against the counter you held so tightly into.

“I want to die like this” he muttered, against your ear. “Inside this tight little cunt of yours”, he took a bite to your ear and before you could formulate a response, he thrust.

You purred even louder, your breath heavy, your mind going empty for a few seconds as he started to pump into you harder, those slow hard movements, your walls clenching hard against him while he was thrusting his hips so hard you felt like you could break anytime.

“Don’t stop-” was all you could say, your voice got caught stuck in your throat, your nails were digging tightly onto the counter wood; you were on your tiptoes so he could reach your entrance, your feets started looking for space as he bent you even further, stepping on top of his.

He let go of your hair for a moment and pushed you down the counter, his hand pressing your head against the surface. The movements were wild, filled with passion, with fire, lust, chemistry - your sex was the best, you knew it, he knew it. He could barely hold himself together, he turned feral in a matter of seconds. The grunts of his need, your moans of pleasure alltogether.

“You gonna kill me-” he grunted. “That’s it… That’s it, babe.” his voice was almost mute, you knew he was trying to hold back just as much as you.

Your legs started to tremble from the effort, from your heavy breathing and from the pleasure that started taking over you once again;

“Leon-” you moaned just again along with some incoherent sounds, and bite your lower lip, you could barely move yourself right now, he was toying you like a doll, making you his the way he fucking wanted it. He grunted out loud, you felt his hand reach up to your pussy through you body and stimulating over your sensitive and hurting clit - all hopes you had of holding yourself were vain at that moment, you lost the game; couldn’t hold any longer.

Your body squirmed and you let your head fall behind, a long and loud painful moan came out of your mouth, the pain mixed with the pure pleasure, your second orgasm of that day - it was almost too overwhelming for you.

Leon’s stomach contracted, his muscles showed up, the veins on his arms were jumping from the efforts, sweat dripping off his forehead, his discharge was like a shockwave against his entire body; he shivered, almost unable of holding himself back the moment he pulled out and gave himself only a few pumps, enough so a big load of his cum hit your buttcheek, slowly dripping from your thigh while he tried to hold his breath steady; his head was now against your back and you could feel his breath catching your skin from time to time, while you tried to gain off conscience again.

You closed your eyes, tired and completely satisfied. He kissed your back ever so gently now, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you together standing again, letting your body rest against the counter in some support; after fixing his pants back in place.

“Thank you.” he muttered, digging his face against the curve of your neck, hugging you into a tight and passionate embrace. You smiled a little against his skin. “you tricked me just fine.” he raised his eyebrows.

“I know, right?” you laughed off a little, looking at him - his eyes, then low at his lips before stealing a little kiss. “You brought beer, right? I baked a cake. I’m not sure if it’s edible but it does smell nice.” you raised an eyebrow and he couldn’t hold off a little laugh to your commentary.

“Yeah, I did.” he sighed, not wanting to do anything else but hugging you in that embrace for at least some other hours, or perhaps for the entire night if you’d let him. “I love you.” he muttered, giving you a long affectionate kiss on the cheek; you couldn’t hold back a genuine, little smile.

“In italian.” you asked in a purr, your eyes with a solicit gleam. He brushed your hair with his fingers, before giving in.

“Ti amo.” he smiled, to which you answered a truly loving “I love you too, agent.”

#leon s kennedy #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x f!reader #leon kennedy #leon x reader

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r4mmst3in · 1 year ago

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Collaborating Like Killers

Deathmetalhead! Reader x Sinclair Brothers

Warnings: death metal, Bo being himself, mvrder, d3ath

A/N: WOW!!! PELLE POSTED FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FOREVER!!! NO WAY!!! Also title is a Carnifex song lol

Bo Sinclair

He’s into it.

Not as much as you are, but he’s a metal/hard rock fan *que Dried Up, Tied Up, and Dead to The World by Marilyn Manson*

If you have long hair, he’s a big fan.

He loves messing with it, pulling it, or just pushing it out of your face.

He can’t braid it or anything but. He tries.

He doesn’t like how it can get yourself hurt in a situation with a tourist.

He doesn’t hate your music, but won’t have it playing if you were in the shop with him and a tourist came along.

One time a tourist escaped the shop and found you walking down from the house.

They pulled you down to the dirt by your hair, using one hand to hold you by your hair and one to hold your hands behind your back

Bo was pissed, to say the least.

Of course, that victim went into the museum.

Bo liked to take you to remind you that he’ll always protect you.

Vincent Sinclair

Oh cool.

He didn’t really get it at first, but the more you introduced him to it, he liked it.

He never listened to it usually, but after a rough day, he’ll like to relax with you while listening to some Carnifex.

If you had long hair: god, he loves it.

He has long hair himself, so I’d like to think that he’s good at styling it, or at least taking care of it.

If you want, he’d wash your hair for you.

He likes to relax like that, you sitting in the warm bath water as he massages your scalp.

A dream come true.

He can braid, most definitely.

Trudy would probably have taught him about hair, saying, “When you have your special someone, you can always do their hair.”

If he’s stressed, he’ll want to listen to some heavy shit with you. Most being Cannibal Corpse, Mayhem, or Exhumed.

His favorite song would be Limb From Limb by Exhumed. No real reason.

He just likes it.

Lester Sinclair

(HES SO PRETTY ALSBDODLSBSH)

He’s not a big fan.

He doesn’t understand how people could listen to men screaming into their ears.

But whatever makes you happy.

You with long hair = Lester’s lab rat.

He always wanted to learn how to do hair, especially curling it.

You didn’t like to curl your hair, but Lester always gave you puppy eyes.

You couldn’t say no.

Lester wouldn’t be opposed to listening to it.

If you wanted to listen with him, he’ll bob his head a little bit.

But he could never listen on his own.

He might listen to a few songs, just to listen when he’s with you.

But in all, he loves you no matter what.

Metalhead or not.

#sinclair brothers #slashers x reader #slasher fucker #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair x male reader #vincent sinclair x male reader #lester sinclair x male reader #death metal #metalhead reader #metalhead

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spirk-trek · 8 months ago

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Private Possessions Fanzine & Novel | Jackie Zoost, Alayne, Marilyn Cole, Natasha Solten (1986)

Excerpts from Private Possessions below:

"Truth stared Kirk in the face.

But I can’t… I can’t just take advantage of the fact that he doesn’t remember me, dammit! Kirk argued fervently. I can’t play the role of his master, he thought, mentally choking on the word. Even if I wanted to, it would mean losing him forever…

And if he doesn’t recover, then he’ll still have his… dignity… and I’ll still have his friendship. It was a weak argument even to his own ears.

The Truth agreed. You’ll have nothing, it reminded him.

I’d rather have nothing than to have him on… on dishonest terms! He wouldn’t accept that and neither will I!

Truth laughed, shaking an admonishing finger at him. That’s your problem, Kirk, it stabbed without mercy. It’s always been an ‘all or nothing’ bargain with you, hasn’t it? You want the whole jar of candy or none at all. You’re spoiled, selfish and too noble for your own damned good or anyone else’s! It’s up to you, old friend.

Kirk found himself trembling. Why is it always up to me? he asked of no one in particular.

You’re the captain, the Truth-demon reminded him sarcastically. That was another of those ‘all or nothing’ bargains you struck with the universe, remember?

Kirk bit his lower lip until it was painful. Not now, his mind pleaded with his nasty conscience. I… I don’t even know what I’m feeling…

The Truth in his mind sighed disbelievingly. In case you’ve never labeled it, Kirk, it’s called love…"

Edit: From what I understand, Alexis Fegan Black is a pen name for Della Van Hise (a fairly famous TOS author) and there has been much discourse from her about fandom... I'm not sure I understand all of it so I am adding this little note (and link) in an effort to be as informative and respectful to the source material as I can.

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stripetkattelalala54-gf · 8 months ago

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Rainbow Madness

Summary: While riding a roller coaster, Mario gets a little bit too much reminded of a certain Rainbow Road incident. Takes place sometime after the movie.

TW: Panic attack

Characters: Mario, Luigi, Mia, Pio, Tony, Arthur, Sofia (Mario and Luigi's little niece)

“I wanna go on that one!”, Sofia exclaimed excitedly, bouncing on her feet as she pointed to a massive roller coaster that extended high into the sky towering over all the other roller coasters that were nearby. It was her 10th birthday so the whole family had agreed to do something a little bit more special than usual to celebrate it.

Since they all knew how much she loved the Mushroom Kingdom ever since Mario and Luigi took her and the rest of the family there to show them around and how much she loved amusement parks, they agreed that combining these two things together would make a good birthday present for her.

So, Mario had asked Peach if amusement parks existed in the Mushroom Kingdom. Peach had looked at him confused at first but after explaining the concept, her face lit up and she informed him that the Mushroom Kingdom indeed had something like an amusement park albeit under a different name.

Now it was him, Luigi, Uncle Arthur, Uncle Tony, mom, dad, and Sofia walking through the FunMush park. They played various games, went on different rides, and tried food which they had never heard of before. It was nice and everyone was having fun. Aunt Marie hadn’t been able to come with them as she had fallen sick. Sofia was sad at first that her mother couldn’t come with them, but that sadness vanished as soon as they set foot in the FunMush park.

Sofia was still bouncing on her feet as she looked at them excitingly.

“Sure, thing sweety we can go on that one”, Uncle Arthur said, laughing. “Who’s coming with us?”

“As if you even have to ask”, Uncle Tony responded with a smirk. “Mario, Luigi you coming too?”

“Of course”, Luigi said without hesitation. Just like Marilyn, Mario could see the excitement radiating off his brother. Despite of everything that Luigi was afraid of, his brother loved roller coasters. Mario normally enjoyed them too but today he couldn’t help but feel uneasy whenever they went on one. Up to that point, all the roller coasters had been relatively small. Still, memories of the Rainbow Road fiasco resurfaced whenever he found himself on one of those rides, but it was manageable.

Now looking at this big roller coaster that was a few feet away from them, made the knot in his stomach that had been there ever since the first ride he went on today, grow even more. It absolutely didn’t help that the roller coaster was very bright and colourful itself.

Mario swallowed thickly but immediately recovered when he saw his whole family staring at him as they still waited for an answer from him. He forced himself to smile. “Yeah, sure I’m coming too.”

It was probably going to be fine anyway. It was only a roller coaster. He would survive a ride on this even if it made him uncomfortable. He never told his family about the Rainbow Roadpart of his adventure not even Luigi. It was a part of his journey that he’d rather forget, the feeling of terror when the explosion threw him off the road and the feeling of hopelessness and despair when he and DK were swallowed by that eel was not something he was eager to voice out loud.

Besides it was probably nothing in comparison to what his brother had to endure during those three days. His family didn’t need to worry about him too when Luigi was already clearly struggling because of everything that happened. It was fine. He could deal with it himself. He pointedly ignored the voice that told him that he hadn’t slept a full night since he came back because he had nightmares about either the Rainbow Road incident, Luigi dying or Bowser beating him up or some combinations of those scenarios that way too often involved that Luigi somehow got hurt or died because he was unable to protect him. Or that he once almost had a panic attack when there had been a sudden loud noise. Or that one time when Luigi came back home a bit later than he’d said he would. Or-

“Mia, Pio are you coming as well?” Uncle Arthur asked, pulling Mario out of his racing thoughts. “I think we rather sit this one out”, his mom said with a smile. “But you go and have fun. We’ll be waiting just right next by the exit of the ride.”

“Well then let’s go!”, Uncle Arthur cheered. Sofia let out a happy squeak before she was running off on her own. Uncle Arthur laughed following her right behind. “C’mon”, Uncle Tony waved, signalling for Mario and Luigi to follow too.

They made their way through the crowd and before Mario knew it, they were right in front of the roller coaster. Uncle Arthur and Sofia were already standing in line waving them over as soon as they saw them.

Only now that they were right in front of the roller coaster, made Mario realize just how big it was; It was towering over them, its twists and turns extending high into the sky and the colours were dizzyingly bright. It made his heart beat faster but not in a good way.

Mario’s heart felt like it would stop when he got a look of the name of the roller coaster. “Rainbow Madness” was written in the same bright colours as the roller coaster was itself. This had to be a joke. Because of course the name would have a remarkable resemblance to the thing he absolutely didn’t want to think about. Just perfect. It did not help with his growing uneasiness at all.

The nearer it was their turn for the ride, the worse it got. He clapped his fingers together in a nervous manner and he could feel a cold sweat forming on his brows.

His uneasiness must’ve been more visible than he thought because Luigi suddenly nudged him gently into his side. “You okay?”, he asked in a concerned tone but silent enough so that others wouldn’t hear him. “I’m fine”, he waved his brother off. Luigi didn’t seem to be convinced. “Are you sure? You’re really tense”, he pressed again. “Yeah, of course”, Mario smiled this time in the hopes that it was enough to convince his brother that he was fine.

Luigi looked like he wanted to say something more but before he could do it, the line cleared up and it was their turn.

Mario climbed into the seat next to Luigi while Sofia and Uncle Arthur took a seat together behind them and Uncle Tony a seat behind those two. Then the safety harness clicked into place. His heart started to race even more now that he knew that there was no going back. It was okay. It was only a roller coaster nothing bad would happen while riding it, he told himself.

The roller coaster suddenly gave a jolt, and before Mario knew it, the ride began its way up the steep descent. His breathing quickened even though he tried to remain calm. It was okay, he told himself over and over again. It was only barely working. He gripped the safety harness tighter as the ride went up higher and higher. This had been a bad idea. He should’ve just stayed down and made up some excuse why he wasn’t coming on the ride. Just as they were about to reach the peak of the ride, a loud bang echoed through the park and Mario’s heart dropped and his breath got caught in his throat.

And then he was falling. His ears were ringing, he couldn’t hear anything. The explosion had been deafening. He was falling. He was going to die. He was going to die without being able to safe his brother. Luigi was going to die because of him. Their family would never know what happened to them. They would never know it was his fault.

He was falling and he was going to die and there was nothing that he could do about it and why was it so hard to breathe and oh god he was still falling, was this never going to end-

“Mario!”

Mario gasped for air as his surroundings came vaguely back into focus. He was on a roller coaster that was moving at a breakneck speed was the first thing he realized. The second thing, he realized was that he wasn’t breathing right. He was choking and he could barely get enough air in.

It’s gonna be okay, just hang on!”, a voice shouted next to him, but Mario could barely hear it over his own heartbeat. The roller coaster took its twists and turns, and Mario could do nothing more than to just hold on.

He squeezed his eyes shut, clutching the safety bar of the roller coaster as if it was a lifeline. His breathing was still too fast, making it hard to get enough air into his lungs. Dizziness was washing over him, and he felt like he would pass out at any moment.

Suddenly the roller coaster came to a screeching halt, and everything stopped. Somebody took him by the arm, nudging him to stand up but his legs felt like jelly. They only supported him for a few steps, and he would have collapsed on the ground if it hadn’t been for the person’s firm grip on him.

He was being led away a few steps before he was being gently lowered down to the floor. Everything was spinning, his chest felt like it was too tight making it impossible to get enough air in. His hands gripped at his chest, pulling at his shirt. He needed it off, he needed room to breathe, he needed-

A hand touched his shoulder shortly, but it was enough to make him flinch.

“Hey”, the voice suddenly spoke again. “Hey breathe with me. Just follow my lead.”

“In. Hold it. Out.”

Mario tried desperately to do as he was told, but the air just wouldn’t fill his lungs. He coughed and choked.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, try again.”

“In.” Mario took a shaky breath in. “Hold it.” He held it for a few seconds. “Out.” Mario breathed out again.

“Good, very good. Try again.”

Mario did. He did it again and again until he was finally able to breathe normally.

That was when his surroundings finally came back into focus. Luigi was kneeling only a few inches in front of him, concern and fear clearly written over his face.

A little bit more behind standing, were Uncle Tony, Uncle Arthur, his parents and Sofia. They had the same concerned expression while Sofia looked scared, clutching Uncle Arthur’s hand. Oh. Oh no.

“You back with us bro?”, Luigi asked in a soft tone.

Giving a shaky nod was all that Mario was capable of. His throat felt like it was on fire making it impossible to form any words. He felt completely exhausted. It was as if all his energy just got sucked out.

Mario could hear footsteps and then his mom was kneeling right in front of him too. She put her hand on his cheek which made him instinctively lean into it. He felt like he could fall asleep right there.

“What happened tesoro? Are you okay?”, his mom’ s concerned voice brought him out of his haziness. She gave him the same worried look as Luigi.

Mario opened his mouth to give a respond, but his throat still hurt too much to speak. And if he was being honest with himself, what would he even say? He didn’t want to tell what actually happened. He would only ruin Sofia’s birthday even more than he already had, and he would make his family unnecessarily worry about something that he shouldn’t even be struggling with. But he was also physically and emotionally too exhausted to come up with a lie.

“Mario?”

His mom looked even more worried than before which made Mario realize that he must have stayed silent for a bit too long. He gave her a smile and a quick thumbs up to signal her that everything was fine, but it was clear that she and Luigi didn’t believe him.

“Mario-“, Luigi started this time but Mario interrupted him.

“I’m fine”, Mario pressed the words out. It hurt but it was necessary to convince Luigi and his mom that he was fine enough to continue because he really didn’t want to ruin Sofia’s birthday completely and he certainly didn’t want to talk about anything that happened back there.

Luigi and his mom still didn’t look convinced, but they seemed to understand that Mario wouldn’t talk, so they didn’t press any further.

“Alright. Then let’s go back to the others”, his mom said. She gave his shoulder one last comforting squeeze before she stood up.

Luigi got up from his kneeling position too, extending a hand towards him to help him stand up as well. Mario gratefully took it. His legs still felt wobbly, but it wasn’t as bad as it was before. Together they walked to where Uncle Tony, Uncle Arthur, Sofia and his dad were standing.

They all looked worried but before anybody could say anything, his mom spoke up: “Everything’s okay now.” She gave them a pointed look that clearly said, “no asking questions” and Mario was glad for that. Then she turned to Sofia with a smile. “Say, Sofia what do you want to do next?” At that Sofia immediately brightened up as she pointed to the next thing she wanted to do.

The rest of the family joined and so the day continued. Mario tried to be joyful during the whole time, forcing himself to smile and laugh whenever Sofia pulled him and the rest of the family into new games to try out.

While he knew that Luigi and his mom could probably look right through him as they kept a close eye on him, he hoped that at least the others wouldn’t be able to. Though from time to time he could see that even his father gave him a concerned look, so it didn’t seem that he was doing a convincing job. He was so tired. All he wanted to do was lay down in a bed and sleep forever.

Finally, the day came slowly to an end. The sun had already begun to sink behind the horizon as they went back home. Since Aunt Marie was sick, it was his mom who took over with cooking. She prepared spaghetti with meatballs as Sofia had wished for her birthday.

After dinner there was cake that Aunt Marie had already baked the day before. Sofia was still in high spirits even though it was starting to get late and even though they spent the whole day at the FunMush park.

Mario though for his part felt very tired. Not having been able to sleep through a whole night, either because of his own or Luigi’s nightmares, since he was back plus the panic attack from today, really made the exhaustion catch up with him for good. So not long after the cake but also not too short to seem unpolite, Mario excused himself.

Nobody said anything against it, not even Uncle Arthur or Uncle Tony teased him about getting to bed ‘quite early for someone his age’, which probably meant that he must’ve looked as bad as he felt. They all just wished him a good night and then Mario was finally alone in his and Luigi’s room.

He put on his pyjamas, brushed his teeth, and crawled under his bed sheets, ready to just fall asleep and forget everything that happened today when the door to the room opened. Mario didn’t even need to open his eyes to know that it was Luigi.

The light was turned on, footsteps could be heard before he felt the bed dip beside him. A hand touched his shoulder.

“Hey”, Luigi began in a soft tone. There was a longer pause before he continued, seemingly needing to gather his thoughts first. “You- This afternoon on that roller coaster- you really freaked out there. It really scared me too. What happened? I’ve never seen you like this.”

Mario took a few seconds before he finally turned around to face his brother. There was nothing but concern written over his face. He knew he couldn’t lie. He was in no state to pretend that everything was fine, and Luigi already knew that something was wrong. But he also really didn't want to talk about it. He didn’t need Luigi to worry about additional things when he already had enough to deal with himself.

But then again, he knew that he would need to talk about it at some point because he knew that Luigi would absolutely worry if he didn’t talk about it. Mario sighed. Better get it over with now.

Mario sat up so that he was able to face his brother.

“I guess”, he started, “this roller coaster just reminded me of the whole Rainbow Road fiasco.”

“Cranky- DK’s father- suggested using karts to quickly return to the Mushroom Kingdom via a shortcut so that we could ambush Bowser and his troop during their attack”, Mario explained. “The shortcut was a rainbow road. Literally. It was a rainbow that served as a road. It was unbelievable.”

Mario paused and took moment to gather his thoughts. He didn’t know why it was so hard to form into words what happened back there. Still, he forced himself to continue.

“So”, Mario went on, “it turns out that Bowser knew we were going that route and his troop ambushed us instead. The whole chase was crazy. It kinda felt like being on a roller coaster.”

Mario took a deep breath.

“We did almost manage to escape them. But then a blue-shelled koopa flew towards us and exploded right on me and DK. I don’t know how, and I honestly try not to think about it”, he chuckled but there was no humour to it. “Anyway, the road broke and we were falling. I thought I was gonna- but then we hit the water. Which was good I guess until we were eaten by a gigantic eel.”

Not wanting to go into more detail, Mario just carried on. “But of course we made it out and yeah. That was that.” Not really knowing what to say anymore, he stopped talking.

“Whoa.” Was all that Luigi said.

“But it’s okay, I’m fine-“

“No you’re not”, interrupted Luigi. “Are you even listening to yourself? You had a panic attack today because of what experienced on that rainbow road. You are clearly not fine.” There was no anger in Luigi’s voice. It was like he was just stating a fact.

Mario’s first instinct was to protest that he was fine, but he paused. He did have frequently nightmares about it even though it was not the only event he had nightmares about. The panic attack today didn’t make things better. He was tired. He was so so tired.

Luigi took gently his hands into his. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were struggling this much. I-“

“No, Luigi, no!” Mario couldn’t help but stop Luigi right there. “It’s not your fault, you weren’t even supposed to know. You have enough struggles yourself you don’t need to be burdened with mine.”

Luigi gave him a sad look.

“We can take care of each other”, he said. “You don’t always have to be strong you know. I’m here for you too just like you are for me.”

Before Mario knew it, he started trembling. Everything was just too much. A lump started to form in his throat and his eyes started to burn. He swallowed but the lump didn’t go away.

Warm arms enveloped him. He was being pulled close until Mario was buried into Luigi’s chest. The trembling intensified, and before he could stop it, the tears started to trail down his face. A hand started to stroke through his hair while Mario tried to focus on Luigi’s heartbeat to help get a hold of himself. It wasn’t working.

His body shook with his sobs, so he gave up and just let it go through the motions. Luigi held him the whole time, never once letting go.

When he finally managed to get a hold of himself, he felt even more tired which he didn’t think was possible. Mario didn’t have the strength to protest when Luigi laid him down and covered him with a blanket.

“Sleep. I think you really need it”, was the last thing he heard before he fell asleep.

Later that night, he awoke again from a nightmare. He shot up, trembling and shaking. It was hard to breathe, his throat was on fire like he was drowning. Like he was back in that cold water waiting to die, knowing Luigi would die too because he wouldn’t be able to save him-

And then warm arms were suddenly around him, holding him close very similar just like a few hours ago. “You’re okay”, Luigi said as he soothingly rubbed his back.

Mario didn’t say anything, he was just clinging to him until he was able to calm down. He vaguely realized that Luigi must have anticipated that there was a chance that he would be having a nightmare tonight. Mario had gotten used to wake up quietly after a nightmare so he wouldn’t wake up his brother and tonight hadn’t been any different.

So, either Luigi stayed up the whole time or he was just sleeping very lightly which often happened when he was worried about something. It was probably the latter one.

Finally, after who knows how long, Mario managed to calm down again. Still, he didn’t want to let go. He wasn’t ready to lose Luigi’s comforting touch just yet. He didn't… he didn’t want to sleep alone. He also didn’t want to voice all of these things because he didn’t want to inconvenient Luigi any further than he already had. Apparently, it wasn’t even necessary.

As if Luigi could read his mind, he took Mario by the hand and guided him over to his bed. No words were spoken, and they didn’t need to. Luigi gently laid them both down on the bed in a way that Mario was now laying on Luigi’s chest with arms wrapped protectively around him.

It was a weird position to be in. Normally Mario was the one who held Luigi like this. Arms wrapped protectively around him, letting his brother know that he was always there for him, giving him comfort and a sense of being protected. Being the one who was receiving this kind of hug now was definitively something he was not used to.

It felt good though. It felt good to be able to be vulnerable and knowing that somebody was there to hold you through it.

Mario closed his eyes and let sleep wash over him.

#smb #mario #luigi #super mario bros #super mario bros movie #the super mario bros #super mario #braincellfic #slightly nervous about posting this but I've been working on this way too long so here we go #tw panic attack

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creative-caramel-coffee · 1 year ago

Note

The reader suffers from claustrophobia and some students play pranks on her. They locked her in a closet and she had a panic attack. Weems finds the reader later, when she is no longer in contact.

Safe and Warm

Pairings: Thornhill x Weems x Reader (Platonic)

Word count: 1.4K

Summary: You get bullied and end up somewhere you really don’t want to be. Small spaces always made you scared. But now your locked in.

TW: claustrophobia, small spaces, bullying, crying, panic attack, angst

A/n love the request and I hope you guys like it.

It was safe to say Wednesday wasn’t the only troublemaker in the school. But at least she never hurt anyone with malicious intent. The others weren’t so nice.

It was never a good day when they saw you. A rowdy group of furs who liked to show off and bully some of the younger years. Their so-called pranks would get more and more devious as the full moon grew closer. Unfortunately, you seemed to be their target for the day. You had done your best to stay out of their sight. Brandon was the pack leader and called all then shots and as an empath you sensed their wild emotions before you saw them, but it was already too late. They had seen you.

With the eyes of a hunter, they closed in. You were running late for botany and really didn’t have time for this today but that didn’t stop the slight tremor in your hands. They had you pinned to the storeroom cupboard. Surrounding you on all sides.

“So, thought you could get away huh?” Brandon asked with a jeer.

“No, not at all. I simply have places to be.”

“Hmm, well maybe… seeings you're not going anywhere right now and seem awfully close to that door behind you we can help you destress a bit by giving you some quality alone time.” He sneered.

That didn’t make much sense and you were about to ask what he meant when a strong arm wrapped around your left bicep and pulled you away from the door. Another one of the burly furs opened it, it was one of the cupboards that locked from the outside and seeings you were in a very remote part of the school this wasn’t going to end well.

The next thing you knew you were pushed from behind falling onto your hands and knees rather hard you felt the skin of your knees and palms tear on the jagged stone floor.

Quickly spinning around to try and escape you heard the door close and the laughter fade.

Taking a shaky breath, you tried the door handle already knowing it would be locked. The handle didn’t even twist at all. That confirmed it then, you were going to die alone in a storeroom.

Shuffling to the wall that faced the door you leant against the cool stone and curled your knees to your chest. Silent tears fell down your cheeks as you suppressed sobs. You had always hated small spaces. They left you alone with your thoughts and the stress always made it harder to suppress the feelings of others. You could sense nobody in the hall, your powers drawing a blank on anyone to get a read on. Resting you head on your knees you tried to steady your breathing.

The walls felt tight, and your chest felt tighter. Breathing was difficult and yet you soldiered on. Closing your eyes and imagining a wide-open field you scrubbed the tears from your eyes hoping someone would notice your absence in botany and that they would be quick to find you before the walls squished you be young repair. Rocking back in forwards in the dimly lit room you cried into your knees, tears rolling down your legs and face and dampening the fabric of your collar and skirt.

You hated this. It was cold, small and tight. Your breathing was shuddery and broken by silent sobs. You had no idea how long it had been the panic attack making it hard to judge.

It was getting more difficult to breathe and the rocking was only so soothing. You wrapped your arms around yourself and squeezed hoping the pressure would help ground you. Breathing became a little easier at that but still not good enough.

Larissa Weems has been enjoying her morning coffee when Marilyn had burst into her office. Setting down the steaming takeaway from the weathervane she sighed.

“Marilyn whats the matter?”

“Y/n never showed up to class. She’s not in her dorm. Hasn’t left the grounds and was supposed to meet with me after class. Larissa she’s missing.” The botanists said looking both worried and concerned.

“Well. We best find her then. We should start by letting the other teachers know to keep an eye out for her, before launching a full-scale search we should try and find her ourselves. Do you have any ideas as to where she may be?” Weems asked already sending out an email to her staff.

“All i know is that her friends said they saw her at breakfast, and she said she was heading up to my classroom for an early start.”

“Well, we should retrace her steps. See what we can find.” Weems said standing and placing a comforting hand on the teacher's arm.

The two left the office, Larissa’s coffee cold and forgotten on the desk.

Walking down the maze of halls Larissa had her eyes scanning every little detail, if she hadn’t, she may well have missed it.

“Hmm.” She said pausing in the corridor.

“What?” The botanist asked stopping beside her.

“These old storerooms aren’t supposed to ever be locked.” Weems said and walked over to the door. She froze as she heard soft whimpers coming from inside. Quickly she turned the door handle and opened the door.

Both teachers looked in and down at you curled up on the floor sobbing. As the door opened your tear-stained face looked up and you hurled yourself at the botanist, wrapping your arms around her and sobbing into her neck.

After a second to realise what had happened, she gently patted your back.

“Shh shh its ok Y/n/n. We’re here sweetheart. Your safe. Okay?” She asked and you let out another small whimper, your body still wracked with sobs she could feel your uneven breathing. Gently she peeled you off her and looked into your eyes holding you by your shoulders.

“Love can you take some deep breathes for me. In. Hold. And out. Good. Good.” She said as you drew shuddered and broken breathes. the principal had grabbed your satchel and whispered something to Marilyn who nodded.

“Y/n.” Weems started, and you turned to look at her with big sad eyes. “Do you want to come sit with me and Ms Thornhill in my office for a bit darling?” She asked and you nodded and went back to hugging the botanist.

Ms Thornhill realised you weren’t letting her go anytime soon so she scooped you up as you clung to her. Holding you up, your face buried in her neck and your front pressed to hers as she had an arm under your thighs to hold you up. The two teachers walked back one carrying your satchel and one carrying you.

Once you were back in Larissa’s office Marilyn sat down on the couch and Larissa sat down next to you gently rubbing your back as you were still attached to the teacher.

“Darling, can you tell us what happened? How did you end up in there?” Larissa asked.

You turned your face to look at her and sniffled, launching into a broken explanation you watched the principals anger grow. But it wasn’t at you, it was for you. A few minutes later she was on the phone with the school board wanting a severe punishment for the boys as she refused to tolerate any sort of such harmful conduct among students.

After you had settled some more, you were still in Ms Thornhill’s lap were resting softly. Completely exhausted by all the emotions you had been dealing with as your abilities drained you and you control over your own emotions. Your cheek was pressed into Ms Thornhill’s collarbone as your slow breathing tickled her neck. She felt you relax in her hold and knew you were asleep.

She mouthed something to Larissa who nodded and grabbed a blanket from her own quarters and tucked it around your sleeping form still resting on Marilyn.

“Looks like you're not leave anytime soon. Can i get you anything?” Weems asked with a chuckle.

But you didn’t hear, you were dead to the world, snoring softly into Ms Thornhill’s chest and for the first time in a long time feeling safe and warm.

MASTERLIST

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vivianbernadetteaurora · 4 months ago

Text

The 1950s

1950s were a big turnover like many other decades before and after and continue to be so. Such as one is over the top., gracious big bold, logos, intensity, blunt, colourful, and brassy almost, when you think of this most of us of our generation would think of the 2000s and the 210s and the shift of the two this 10 period cycle, well actually it’s a 20 year cycle if you really think about it coming in and out of fashion maybe 15 at the most, so you’ve got the 1940s where the war is still going up until 45 where is the, black-and-white even in the movie signals this?, we were invented somehow that had the money to, people like Marilyn Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor, Paul Newman and Robert Redford.

Hollywood and these times does this to these women? It mainly does it to the women it torment them torches them it will give them somebody who is their double., they understudy but tell them how amazing that other person is and that they wouldn’t reject these kind of office so why are you when they are deep into their career and they have given us everything of themselves? They are about down to bound to be a tad bit angry and the funny, narcissism does this to us? It thinks oh it won’t be me. I’ll never feel that way about somebody before me such as Marilyn Monroe probably never thinking she would feel like Joanne Crawford did about her who were up and coming., as a woman, you must be dignified but not too dignified to the point of you coming across arrogant, you must be flirty but never a slut, you must have virgin like quality but don’t be too virginal, age gracefully but don’t be ugly, why don’t you lose a few pounds but don’t get too skinny.

All these things are absolute recipe for disaster, and monsters the real monsters of the people behind these acts of making people feel this way the talent agents the executives, the managers the people who these companies the nepotism, allot it .

The difference in these decades like the 80s and the 90s grunge versus hair metal heroine versus cocaine, two different kinds of things in all of these things I’ve listed above so what are we due for next to me?, the 210s were rather over the top but also subtle so when it comes to our next decade that’s coming up with making it subtle bit again, so these women are men the men had it in the way the homosexual ones anyway they weren’t allowed to be open with their sex, point where they would make these men marry women while they had a life on the side which couldn’t be publicised which couldn’t be shown, I even said to my boyfriend if we break up, I want to marry a gay man, the way gay men treat women, and I hate to make sweeping statements and I seem to a lot. I seem to write like that energies sometimes.

But I love the beauty of sees a woman and her straight man never could. , this decade of the 50s bought us the Marilyn Monroe of her absolute peak, her beautiful presence versatile and face, even though she was even one he got bullied by Louis Mayer, the company, to the point I think he even called her his little chinless wonder, bullying tactics, it worked in the 2000s with Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton, where do they stay? These women go back, they’ve made up a bit now because they’re both mothers, I dread to imagine what kind of mother might be with her addiction issues sorry I’m an addict myself and it worries mate maybe it was a blessing, disguise have children?, like not to be able to have children it’s horrible. Your life ends up becoming an addiction disaster if you’re not stable enough.m and men who don’t treat you right, children are a blessing and if you have them count yourself lucky every day, do I think abortions bad, I don’t if you’re not in the right place to have a child then you shouldn’t.

This is comparing all the decades having very similar ways and if you look at it, you’ll see,. one thing I didn’t like was Jane Mansfield think the woman had much class, especially when it came to Monroe she played into the image of being exactly like her, to me it’s a shame they didn’t play into her being probably mixed cause I think she is. and by no means do I mean blackface but make them more darker? Dark hair? Lipstick et cetera, but they had to do a copy of, king size Monroe call her, and she was she lived, Monroe hated it and if you can see some of these pictures she copied it, was is Mansfield love being Monroe as Monro didn’t.

#old hollywod glamour #old glamour #marilyn monroe #jayne mansfield #fypage #1950s #1950s fashion #50s #decades #40svs50s #life during wartime

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queen--kenobi · 26 days ago

Text

Kinktober Day 10: Knife Play

The Ghoul x OC (Marilyn "Angel Eyes" Aikens)

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

Warnings: a little bit of knife and blood play? Like it doesn't get explicit but they're both getting off on what's going on. Also bondage

“You like this.”

The Ghoul bristles at her statement. Angel Eyes speaks deliberately and with no accusation, and yet, it bothers him. He tries to turn in her hold, but she presses her blade closer to his throat. If he could reach back and grab her, he would, but his movements were severely limited by the rope around his wrists. The shock of her actually getting the jump on him had cost him dearly.

“I'm not judging.” Her voice stays careful.

“Sure as shit sounds like you are.”

He can't see her shake her head but hears it. Angel Eyes clicks her tongue before removing the knife from his throat. The Ghoul watches her as she circles around to squat in front of him. She doesn't let go of the lead, which forces his arms and hands into an awkward position as they're pulled by the rope. His fingers begin working at the knots.

“Keep doing that, and you'll lose your fingers.”

He laughs at her.

“Considering they're the only part of me you do like, I doubt that.”

She slides the point of her knife under his chin and lifts his head up. She goes a little farther under his chin than she needs to, the point of the blade resting against his throat. Fuck him. This shouldn't be hot, shouldn't be eliciting the kind of reaction it is. The way she's looking at him doesn't help. The Ghoul knows what it looks like when someone wants to kill him; the way she's staring at him she doesn't want to kill him. Instead, under the attempted aloofness, he sees curiosity and lust.

It's not exactly the combination he was expected, but that's fine. It might actually be easier to work with this and get what he wants.

Angel Eyes tilts her head. The aloofness shifts into a clinical expression. She examines him.

“Do you know how many people would slit your throat if they were in my shoes?” She hums. The point of her knife moves down from under his chin and along his throat. Angel Eyes keeps the pressure light; he feels the motion, making him swallow, but it's clear she has no intention of killing him. At least, for right now.

“Lost count after a while.”

She pulls the knife back, but before he can wonder exactly what she's up to, she yanks the rope in her hands forward as well. It pulls his left arm and shoulder even further to his right side. He curses. The sudden movement means his concentrate is shot. Angel Eyes shakes her head. She has the fucking gall to even ‘tsk’ him as she does so.

“You really like pushing your luck, don't you, cowboy?”

The Ghoul's breath stops for a second. He hasn't heard that term in a long time, and it's been even longer since he's heard someone call him that in an endearing way. His blood thunders through his veins even as a sour taste grows in his mouth. The slight lilt in her tone makes it all the worse; it reminds him too much of Marilyn.

Then again, a lot of things about Angel Eyes remind him of Marilyn. With each encounter, he picks up a little more about her, and each little piece makes him think of her.

It's probably his brain making shit up. The first time he saw her, his first thought was Angel Eyes's eyes looked so much like Marilyn's. He about laid off the Jet for a bit, thinking it must be some weird by-product of his fucked up imagination. Even sober, he couldn't shake the feeling, so he instead elects to ignore it whenever it crawls into the forefront of his mind. The Ghoul knows he's extra nasty to her because of it, but she takes it in stride. Shit, he knows she gives it back as good as he gives it to her; there are plenty of times he knows she sniped his bounty and went for a head shot just so he'd have nothing to bring back.

She loves wasting his fucking time.

He tries to cover his reaction to the term with a laugh.

“Shit. Think you've been letting those shitty Westerns get to you.”

Angel Eyes merely shrugs. She brings the knife back under his chin. This time, she lifts his head to make him look her in the eye. She scrutinizes him. He tries not to snarl.

“Are we done playing fucking games or what?”

“You got a temper on you.” She hums. She tilts the knife a little. It actually cuts into his skin a little, enough to draw the barest bit of blood. “Luckily for you, I like that.”

“You think I want to fuck you?” He scoffs. Angel Eyes merely smiles.

“Yeah. I do.” She drops the blade down and moves it from under his chin to under his jaw, flicking her wrist upward so she can trace the actual lines of his jaw. “See. I know if you really wanted to, you would have hunted me down and killed me already. But you haven't. That means one of two things. One,” the blade disappears from his jaw for a second for it to reappear when she taps it to his lips in lieu of tapping it on his nose, “I'm much slicker and smarter than you. But considering for every time I pull one over on you, you get me right back. I think that means we're about even. Which leaves option two. You're letting me live because you've grown fond of me. Just as I'm letting you live because ain't nobody else could actually give me a run for my money.”

The Ghoul laughs, more a bark of amusement than anything else. He's not even sure he means it. Hell, he knows he doesn't mean it, it's more a cover-up than anything else. She's right. Angel Eyes has him pegged.

“It sounds like you might you have a crush on little ol’ me.”

Angel Eyes shakes her head.

“Nah. I'm just proposing a beneficial arrangement. Can't trust just anyone out here, and I'd like to think professional respect would keep you from killing me, and vice versa.” She tilts her head. “What do you say?”

She pulls the blade away from him. The Ghoul watches as she eyes his blood on the knife before flicking her tongue out to lick it clean. He swallows. He's never truly considered the eroticism of being on the other side of the knife.

“Christ alive. You know how to sweet talk a guy.”

“Oh, darlin’. I'm just getting started.”

#kinktober 2024 #oc: marilyn “Angel Eyes” Aikens #The Ghoul x OC #The Ghoul x OFC #NSFT #persephone writes

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thespiritofvexation · 8 months ago

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Some more Thåström-recommendations for @glorious-blackout (and anyone else who might be curious about what my problem is) Sorry, I got carried away!

Ebba Grön - Die Mauer (1982)

I feel I need to explain what I meant when I said Die Polizei reminded me of Die Mauer (apart for the obvious similarities in the titles!) I'm just gonna go ahead and assume you know what Die Polizei is about! Die Mauer is about a man who is separated from his love by the Berlin wall, he is overcome by longing and anger and decides to do whatever it takes to reunite with her. The sound of gunshots at the end of the studio version implies that he failed, hence the "Die Mauer but with a happy ending"-comment. Musically Thåström's solo-rendition of the song is more like Die Polizei than the original though (this one for example)

Imperiet - Alltid rött alltid rätt (1983)

Title means "always red always right", basically a raging against the machine socialist anthem (live video for maximum intensity!)(I promise he is perfectly sane)

Imperiet - Märk hur vår skugga (1985)

A cover of a song originally written in 1790! The band felt they were becoming to commercial and wanted to do something "avant-garde" and the record company was not happy. To everyone's surprise it became their biggest hit! (The song may not be very Kaizer but the video sure has Kaizer-vibes!)

Imperiet - Österns röda ros (1986)

"Red rose of the east" (meaning Palestine) You might know this one already if you've seen my pinned post. Including it anyway since it sadly still is relevant and because I think I might like this 2015 version best

Thåström - Djävulen o jag (1989)

I made a whole post about the various live versions of this song and the studio-version is also a favourite! But I feel like especially this version only needs a couple of oil barrels and it would fit right into a Kaizer concert

Thåström - Radio Thåström (1991)

This list got a bit heavy so have a silly nonsense song with a silly nonsense video!

Peace Love & Pitbulls - A. Psycho (1992)

In the early 90's Thåström said fuck this, eloped to Amsterdam and started a industrial- rock- techno- metal- band, or as a swedish journalist put it "went to Amsterdam and drilled into a mountain wall for 5 years". I'm glad he did, and so was Marilyn Manson who cited PLP as an inspiration (Just so that no one gets the wrong idea, PLP came first!)

Thåström - Vacker död stad (1999)

Then he got tired of playing with the sampling-machine and replaced it with "a fuckton of guitars". All of sweden celebrated the return of the king except for little me who did not get the appeal of this terrifying angry hobo (or "waldschrat" as @copias-juicebox would say!)

Thåström - Kärlek är för dom (2009)

Thought this one has a vibe that might be up your alley. Bit of Öppet hav-feel? (Live video just because Thåström stage-antics)

Thåström f. Titiyo - Papperstunna väggar (2021)

Probably my favourite from his latest album to finnish off this list! Titiyo has a beautiful voice♡ (First time I watched this live video I thought 'dude are you ok?' but now I know this is perfectly normal Thåström- behaviour! (Rip tumblr you would have loved to diagnose him)

#love to hear your honest opinion and you absolutely do not have to watch all those videos!#combining two hobbies- joakim thåström and making lists #ebba grön #imperiet #peace love & pitbulls #thåström

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rjmenezz · 1 month ago

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FULL NAME: ricardo jimenez

NICKNAME(S): ric

SEXUALITY & PRONOUNS: bisexual (he&him)

ROMANTIC STATUS: single

BIRTHDAY: april 1st, 1992 (32)

ZODIAC aries

OCCUPATION: bartender at eclipse/ podcaster

HOGWARTS HOUSE: hufflepuff

HOMETOWN: corpus christi, texas

CURRENT LOCATION: asbury park, new jersey

PET(s): a goofy and lovable boxer named Bella

PARENTS: trisha collins (step-mom), carlos jimenez (biological father)

TATTOOS & PIERCINGS: some on his back (pictures coming soon) & no piercings yet

MUSE INSPO: nick miller (new girl), fry (futurama), aladdin (aladdin), jack dawson (titanic), starlord (guardians of the galaxy, peter parker (marvel), eddie (the rocky horror picture show), john bender (the breakfast club)

MUSIC INSPO: pour some sugar on me- def leppard, with a little help from my friends -the beatles, shameless -the weekend, girls girls girls -mötley crüe, tainted love -marilyn manson version, black dahlia -hollywood undead, falling - harry styles, take my breath - the weekend, fat lip - sum 41, give me novacaine -greenday, bite my tongue -meet me at six ft: oliver sykes. more to come!

QUICK BIO: (child abuse mention tw, death mention tw, alcoholism tw, pregnancy complications tw)

📼 (tw: death mention, pregnancy complications tw,) ricardo jimenez was born a dreamer. ever since he can remember he has always dreamed of what else life had to offer. even though his life had a habit of continuously handing him the shorter end of the stick, he always seemed to overcome any challenge thrown his way. he didn’t grow up in a family that had much to give. in fact, his mother passed away giving birth to him and his father always seemed to hold some sort of grudge against him because of it. (end tw)

📼 he learned a lot of things at a very young age. one of those things was to never upset his father. it just wasn’t worth the outcome, and another thing was his sexuality. he first felt a shift in his chest when he was twelve and watching the outsiders. it happened during the soda pop shower scene and since then he’d always kept his secret as well hidden as possible.

📼 (tw: child abuse mention, alcoholism mention) while his father would find comfort in alcohol and swinging his hand at him whenever he drank too much, and almost everything he did was to make ricardo's life harder than it had to be. there was ONE good thing ric can credit his father for and that was his step-mother, trisha collins. she had guessed his secret a while before he had, because she always had made him feel safe, he was able to open up to her about it. plus, he’ll never forget how trisha always found ways to try and avoid him getting shit on by his father. (end tw)

📼 regardless of how crappy his home life most of the time could be, ricardo found an escape in two ways. one was his friends; of course, he had found a family in a small group of people from school. the other was investigating the mysteries in life. ricardo loved to visit abandoned locations, or places considered haunted, in search of paranormal activity. he’d sometimes stay up all night rewinding footage to make sure he didn't miss anything on his visits.

📼 shortly after his twenty-third birthday, ricardo got into a terrible fight with his father. this one turned physical and before ric knew it he was walking away from a place he once called home with zero intentions of looking back. he came to asbury park, new jersey to visit an online friend (wc) and ended up staying here. his love for the paranormal is what fueled him to start hosting his own podcast called 'beyond the unexplained' in which he talks about various things involving the paranormal side of life and invites people to share their experiences too.

📼 he’s the kind of guy who likes to crack jokes, a bit jittery sometimes, loves 80′s anything, vinyl over anything, enjoys playing guitar, loves to make new friends, digs a great party, and he’ll be your friend till the end if given a chance.

#asburyintro #child abuse mention tw #death tw #alcoholism tw #pregnancy complications tw

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 1 year ago

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Could you write a Marilyn Thornhill/Laurel Gates x f!student reader? Laurel starts working at Nevermore, while she starts planning her revenge on the outcasts Reader tries to make her feel welcome and Laurel is a bit surprised, they start spending time together and they bond, as time passes Laurel realizes that she cares about Reader and thinks that she might love her but pushes the thought aside because she can't love an outcast. More time passes and Laurel resurrects Crackstone, while he's destroying the school Reader attacks him but he defeats her, as he is about to k*ll her Laurel remembers all the times Reader has been nice to her and decides to protect her, they defeat Crackstone and it ends with Laurel and Reader kissing and running away so that Laurel doesn't go to jail

Thanks if you'll write it <3

Yesss!!! Here it is!!! I hope you like it, and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

I don't care

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill/Laurel Gates x Fem, Student! Reader

Warnings: Bad decisions, unconditional love

Word count: 4,503

Summary: You love her, and you think she loves you… You don’t know how far you can go just for her…

N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

You were sitting on a bench inside the school, as usual. Your Ipod played songs while you read the boring books that the literature teacher told you. You moved your head following the rhythm of the music. It was ideal for a rainy afternoon. You wanted to lose yourself in your thoughts. Your ice generating powers were dozing while your body enjoyed the relaxation that being like this provided you. You loved those quiet afternoons.

“You'll see how comfortable you'll be here, Marilyn. They don't look like it, but they're good, I promise.”

Principal Weems was walking with another woman, one you had never seen before. You normally didn't pay attention to strangers walking into Nevermore, but that innocent-looking redhead caught your eye from the first moment. She was carrying a suitcase and several potted plants in her arms.

“Thank you for this opportunity, Larissa,” the stranger said, nodding happily.

You watched the two women over the top of your book. You tried to go unnoticed, but Principal Weems knew all the students at Nevermore very well, and that included you.

“Oh, (Y/N), it's nice that you're here,” she told you, guiding the other woman towards you.

“Principal Weems,” you greeted politely.

“(Y/N), this is Marilyn Thornhill,” she said, pointing towards the redhead, who was staring at you. “She is your new botany teacher.”

Marilyn nodded in greeting and smiled, feeling unable to reach out to you.

“Oh, glad to meet you Miss Thornhill,” you said, getting up.

“She is (Y/N), one of our best students,” Larissa said, proud to boast of your good grades.

“I'm glad to meet you. I’m sorry I didn't shake your hand, I'm a bit... Loaded right now,” she said amused, moving things from one side to the other.

“Wait, let me help you,” you said, picking up one of the pots. She looked at you as if that gesture was something strange, but she nodded gratefully.

“Wow, thank you very much, you are very kind,” she said smiling.

There was a strange little moment of silence, as if time had stopped. Larissa cleared her throat to interrupt the curious tension that had built.

“Well, I'm afraid I have to go now. (Y/N), if you would be so kind as to accompany Ms. Thornhill…”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you said, nodding profusely. You were always this nice to everyone, but somehow you felt the need to be even nicer with your new teacher.

Larissa turned and walked away from her, leaving them alone.

“Well…” Marilyn said, a little nervous.

“Well…” You repeated. Suddenly you felt that words were unable to come out of your mouth. “Do you want me to show you Nevermore?”

“I would love to, but first I would like to leave all this stuff in my room. It weighs a little,” she answered you, putting on her glasses with an almost angelic gesture.

“Of course, of course…”

The two of you walked silently through the school. Your presence did not go unnoticed by your classmates, who whispered as you passed near them. Your cheeks flushed red as you understood what the conversation would surely be.

The week before, Larissa informed you that a new teacher would be coming. It wouldn't be strange news if she hadn't commented on a small detail. That woman, Marilyn, was a normie. All the students seemed very surprised, even disgusted to hear it.

Normies and outcasts had always been in constant struggle. The ones hated the others. It wasn't surprising that the situation was somehow awkward, but it didn't affect you personally at all. You didn't believe in generalities. There was good and evil on both sides, the yin and yang.

“Sorry for asking…” You said, when you reached the door of what would be her room. She turned and dropped some things on the ground. “But what is someone like you doing in a place like this?”

She sighed, understanding the meaning of that question. You began to regret having asked it.

“I see that you already found out,” she told you, pretending that she hadn't minded the question. “Do you read minds or something?”

“What? No. Larissa told us that... Well, you aren’t... I mean, you're...”

“Normi,” she said, finishing the sentence for you. Her look didn't evoke rancor or anger, but there was something in her voice that told you that somehow it hurt her to admit it.

“Yeah, well… Larissa told us, just in case,” you said, wanting to run out of there. She nodded and smiled.

“I see…” She said in a breath, putting the key in the lock.

She tried to turn it several times, but without success.

“What's wrong with this damn door?” She protested, a little nervous. You immediately snapped out of your pensive and stunned state and approached her.

“The same thing always happens. The lock has a trick. Allow me, please,” you said kindly, taking the key with your hand. In doing so, you brushed your hand against hers and that gave you the willies. Your feelings were going much faster than your thoughts and you didn't like where they were going.

With your other hand you lifted the door a little, adjusting it so that the key turned smoothly, opening at last.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” she told you, picking up some things and entering the room. Are you going to stay there?

You shook your head and reached down to get the rest of her things, going inside as well.

“I'd swear it's smaller than mine,” you commented, placing a box on top of the dusty desk. Marilyn looked at you curiously as she looked at one of her plants.

“I think I'll have to talk seriously with Larissa,” she said, joking. You laughed

“Good luck with that. Lately she's too busy with her scams with Mayor Walker,” you said, sitting on the bed.

“Did you say Walker?” The redhead asked suddenly. You stirred, a little scared of her reaction.

“Yes... The mayor of Jericho, do you know him?” You wanted to know. She relaxed her face and shook her head.

“Oh, no. I thought he was other person,” she said. You didn't know why, but it seemed to you that she was lying. “And answering your previous question, the truth is, I don't know what I'm doing here.”

The days passed and you had your first classes with her. Everyone in Nevermore seemed not to be as satisfied with her presence as you are. You noticed how the other teachers ignored her. She was always alone. She ate alone, she dined alone. Marilyn spent most of her time alone in the conservatory. You couldn't help but feel bad for her. Normi or not, she was a kind woman, and a good teacher. Gradually that opinion ceased to be completely objective.

You were one of those fools who believed in love at first sight. Of course, she was everything you wanted, and the small inconvenience that it was clearly an impossible love didn't matter to you at all. You didn't want to keep seeing how she was rejected by the majority of people in Nevermore, and you took advantage of the little trust you had after your first meeting to spend some time with her.

“That's why they say I'm too cold, do you get it? Too cold,” you said, giving another one of your ridiculous bad joke shows.

“I think so, I get it,” Marilyn answered you, amused, while she watered some of her plants. “Aren’t you tired of spending time with me?”

The question caught you by surprise. Her tone was serious and somewhat melancholic. You frowned and shook your head.

“No,” you answered. “Why?”

“Well, I'm sure your friends are having fun out there.”

“Bah, they can have fun alone. They only need me when they run out of ice,” you widened your eyes at that statement. She was kind of like your friend, but she was still your teacher. “For the soft drinks…” You tried to fix it.

“Careful, (Y/N), don't make me have to call Weems,” she told you, like a false threat. “You have not answered my question.”

“What question? Oh yeah. Well I… I'm fine here,” you said, shrugging. “I'm hopelessly in love with you and I want to spend as much time as I can by your side” didn't seem like the best answer.

“You seem to be the only one, (Y/N),” she said grimly, as she set the watering can down.

“Crap. Weems appreciates you a lot,” you said, feeling a little pang of jealousy in your chest.

“She is my boss,” she answered coldly. “In any case, forget it, I don't want to go around being sorry.”

“I think you're cool, you know. And many of my classmates agree with me,” you said, blushing at that direct confession. It wasn't a declaration of love, but it was an honest opinion.

And so the months passed.

Your relationship grew, and you barely hung out with your friends from the Nightshades. You only had time for her, and she for you. The insipid and trivial talks you had in the conservatory turned into deep and philosophical conversations. Marilyn confessed to you how difficult it had been for her to fit in somewhere, that the world of the normies didn't want her, and neither did the world of the outcasts. You felt so identified. You had a lot of friends, yes, but you never felt strong enough to be completely honest with them. Only your roommate, Divina, knew about your preference for girls. Society still retained old prejudices.

“Hey, this is nightshade, right?” You said, looking at a plant you didn't think you'd seen before there. Marilyn walked up to you and nodded.

“You're good, (Y/N),” she whispered to you. You smiled, and your cheeks no longer returned to their normal color, they stayed a constant red.

“Wow, this could kill us all,” you commented, looking at the sinister plant.

“Precisely for this reason it is important that you know it, even if you don't need to,” she told you, winking at you and moving away a bit.

“Sure, academic interests,” you said, making a gesture of quotation marks with your fingers.

“I thought you would have a secret meeting tonight,” she told you in a slightly ironic tone. You turned around, surprised that she had any idea about your little student society.

“How do you know?” You asked. She just shrugged. You snorted at her mysterious and mocking attitude.

In that time some strange things had happened in Nevermore. A new student, Wednesday Addams joined the academy. A strange, quiet and sinister girl. Soon after, a rumor began to spread that a bear was on the loose. Divina told you that this bear was not a bear, but a monster. A student had apparently disappeared.

“Do you think we're in danger?” You asked, thinking how terrible it was to have a monster stalking the school grounds.

“Why do you say that?” Marilyn asked, leaning next to you and tilting her head.

“Well, the rumors about a monster... The thing about that boy... Rowan,” you said, finally showing some humility with her, some of the fear you really felt.

“(Y/N), you don't have to worry. Nothing is wrong. Also remember that Nevermore is well protected, you know, by people like you.”

While she was talking she did something you wished would last forever. Gently, she brushed her hand over your cheek. Silence fell suddenly, while her hand caressed you. You couldn't find words, or anything you could think of. Everything was calm, peaceful. You were confident, but she had never done anything like this.

“And… And don't forget the nightshade,” you said stupidly, interrupting the best moment of your life. She smiled, but she didn't take her hand away, she even seemed to get closer to you.

“Yeah, the nightshade too,” she whispered, too close.

It seemed like one of those moments when lovers kiss. You felt her breathing, your eyelids closed slowly, just like hers. You noticed her lips on yours, fleetingly, like a light touch, not like a kiss. Her breathing quickened but she didn't move. You didn't do anything, you just stood there still, finally wishing that that contact would intensify.

Marilyn sighed and moved away from you, pretending nothing had happened.

You were blocked. You opened your eyes to see that she was now turning her back on you, moving some things on her desk. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. You were afraid to hear words of regret.

“(Y/N), it's late, you better go back inside. Weems will get angry if she sees you around at this time,” she said with a very different tone than her voice used to have. It was a cold, distant tone. You nodded, knowing that she couldn't see you.

You left the place with your head down, feeling bewildered and disappointed. She was going to kiss you, you were sure. Not even the winter cold could take away the feeling of her lips touching yours. You looked back. Marilyn was with her head buried in her arms, apparently crying over something.

You were about to return, but something, or rather someone, interrupted your path.

“(Y/N)! May I know what you are doing wandering around the school at this time of the night?”

Principal Weems appeared, obviously upset. She was more concerned than annoyed, apparently.

“I… I was helping Miss Thornhill and I was leaving just right now,” you said, running your hands over your arms, beginning to feel the cold. Larissa seemed relieved to hear your excuse, and she put her arm around your shoulders.

“You scared me. I don't like you guys going out alone at night. You leave me calmer knowing that you were with Marilyn.”

The weeks passed and your relationship with the redhead cooled. You didn't talk about that night. She was obviously avoiding the subject. You didn't say anything either. Now it was clear to you that the chemistry was mutual. That was much worse. Knowing that she might have feelings for you but not want to show it was much harder than dreaming of the impossible.

After many terrifying events and companions being attacked by that mysterious monster, things didn't get any better. You were scared. You no longer went out at night to see Marilyn. She didn't seem to bother about that too much either, she barely talked to you.

That day they had expelled Wednesday from Nevermore. It seemed that she had tried to kill someone, or something.

You were lying on your bed, face up, daydreaming about that kiss that never happened, when your roommate suddenly walked into your room.

“(Y/N)! Wake up! You have to come, something has happened,” Divina said, shaking you roughly.

“My God, Div, what's wrong with you?” You said annoyed. Her face was truly terrified.

“It's Thornhill, she was behind all of this.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head.

“Behind what? What are you talking about?” You asked, getting up immediately.

“The monster, the murders. Thornhill is the murderer. She wasn't even called that, she's Laurel Gates, remember the family that wanted to murder all the outcasts?”

You were hallucinating. You would never believe that was possible. You had a cold mind and you did remember the stories that spoke of the Gates family. You nodded, feeling your heart begin to pound.

“She is the little daughter. She wants to kill us all!”

“Have you gone crazy, Divina?” You asked annoyed in case it was some kind of practical joke. You thought so because the close relationship you had with Marilyn did not go unnoticed by your friends.

“There is no time! You have to come!” She said, grabbing your wrist.

Marilyn wasn't Marilyn, she was… Laurel Gates? A murderer? Impossible. It was simply impossible for you to believe. She would never hurt anyone. You replayed it in your head over and over again as you walked down the stairs. It wasn't possible, it had to be a joke, a misunderstanding.

It was obvious that something was happening in Nevermore. Students and teachers were running through the corridors, running from something.

-Come on, we have to get out of here.- Your friend told you when you arrived at the door. You looked at the sky. In what appeared to be the courtyard, a kind of sinister glow had arisen, as if something was on fire. You couldn't help it, you had to go see what was happening, you had to make sure that it was all a lie, that Marilyn was Marilyn, not a murderer, that she wasn't Laurel Gates. “(Y/N)!”

You ran against the current, without looking back. There was no one there when you got to the patio, just two figures that it took you a while to make out. Wednesday, she was recognizable. She seemed to be wrestling with some kind of pilgrim, a demon. You had spent enough time in Jericho to guess who it was, Joseph Crackstone. You didn't bother to wonder why he lived. The fight they were waging seemed to come to an end, and Wednesday seemed to lose.

The young woman fell to the ground and you ran to her aid, without thinking about the possible consequences.

“Wednesday!” You yelled, crouching down next to her. She seemed hurt. She looked at you strange and scared, a very rare feeling for her.

“On his heart… You have to stick it on his heart,” she told you, hissing in pain, bringing an old sword closer to you.

“What?”

“Great, more witches to burn in hell!” The pilgrim screeched behind you. You turned and brandished the sword at him. You don't know how, but you managed to dodge his blows. He carried some kind of staff that seemed much stronger than that cracked sword.

“Fuck, fuck...” You muttered, finding yourself unable to dodge his attacks any longer.

Finally, your sword collided with the staff, breaking as you feared, into a thousand pieces.

“You can't do anything, damn witch. I'll send you all to Satan,” He told you, pointing that object towards you, sending you away just by shaking it.

You landed with a crash, doing terrible damage to your arm. Crackstone approached you, slowly, enjoying his victory.

“Pray if you still can, you monster,” he whispered. You could barely move. The fall did you a lot of damage. You tried to drag yourself across the ground, but it only served to have his foot slam into your hand hard, making you cry out in pain.

It was your time. Everything had happened very quickly. You didn't even think of Marilyn as the culprit for all of this. You were going to die, and you preferred to do it believing that she was good, and that she... loved you. You closed your eyes, waiting for your sad end.

“Stop! Leave her alone!”

A shout stopped the pilgrim. You recognized that voice. Marilyn.

You opened your eyes to see a woman completely unknown to you. It was her, your beloved, but she didn't have that tender and innocent look. The absence of her glasses only emphasized the evil that ran across her face. Your subconscious came to the horrible conclusion that your friend was right. She wasn't Marilyn, that woman was Laurel Gates.

“You!” Crackstone yelled, turning on her. “I thought I told you to get out of my sight, or I'd tear your tongue out.”

You managed to support yourself on one of your elbows, looking horrified at a scene of two people who seemed to have some confidence.

“She's not in your plans,” Laurel said, darkening her gaze.

That horrible demon laughed evilly. The redhead looked scared and she looked at you in a panic.

“Please! Let her go,” she begged, getting to her knees. “Please.”

“I have a better idea…” Crackstone whispered. “I was wrong about you… You are a dishonor to my lineage. You will die too... But first I want you to enjoy the views...”

“Please…” The redhead insisted, crying desperately.

The pilgrim turned to you and smiled, his eyes wide.

“Die, witch!” He yelled, raising his cane towards you again.

You managed to put your arms in front of your head and closed your eyes again. There was no blow, an explosion sounded suddenly. You opened your eyes to see that it had not been an explosion, but a shot.

Laurel was no longer on her knees, she was on her feet, gun in hand. The bullet hit Crackstone, causing him to stop.

“I told you to leave her alone,” she hissed, inching closer.

“Marilyn…” You whispered, still shaking from being about to die.

Crackstone snarled in anger and made a swing at her, but she kept firing. Unfortunately her progress only slowed.

You had to do something as soon as possible. You preferred to be you, you preferred not to see the woman you loved die. Yes, you loved her, whoever she was. Despite everything, you loved her and she loved you, she had shown it by saving your life.

A click told you that there were no more bullets left.

“On his heart…” You whispered to yourself, getting up from the ground. The pain you felt was comparable to thousands of blades digging into your body, but you didn't care. You took a breath and concentrated. The familiar chill your powers caused passed through your hand.

A fine frozen icicle formed in your hand. It was your last chance. You ran towards that monster, just when it seemed that the redhead had accepted her fate, dropping the weapon to the ground.

“Go to hell!” He yelled, raising the staff at her. “Ahhhh!”

A horrible cry of pain filled the courtyard. That makeshift ice stake pierced through his chest, causing a black mist to begin to surround him.

A shock wave hit the place, causing you to fall back to the ground. Then came the calm. The flames that devoured the place vanished together with that demon. It's over.

Laurel moved toward you and knelt down, helping you to sit up.

“Marilyn… Why?” You said, already unable to hold back the tears. “Why?”

“My love... I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry. I didn't want anything to happen to you,” she told you. You didn't even notice the way she called you. You were broken with physical and emotional pain, but still, you couldn't help but hug her.

“Why did you do it?... I... I...” You sobbed, embracing that horrible woman, the culprit of everything, a murderer, a murderer you felt unable to stop loving.

“Forgive me, please…” She said, sobbing too. “You are the only one who has always been with me… I started to feel things for you and… And… I didn't know what to do… My God, please forgive me… I love you…”

Those words caused your heart to stop. She had just told you, she had said that she loved you. You no longer had a choice.

“Laurel… That's your name, right?” You said. She nodded. “I love you too…”

After that strange confession, you kissed in the most romantic way you could do under those circumstances. It was a deep, passionate, sincere kiss. Your conscience was screaming for you to come to your senses, for you to remember all the horrible things that had happened, that she did. You didn't hear its call, you could only hear your heart.

“Please... Forgive me,” she whispered while she kept kissing you.

“Stop.”

Wednesday's dark voice interrupted your statement. She was behind you, and she wasn't alone, Principal Weems was next to her, putting a hand on her neck for some unknown reason.

“Laurel Gates…” Larissa whispered. “I've notified the sheriff, he won't be long in arriving,” she said, serious, more serious than you've ever seen her. The redhead kissed you once more and got up. You did the same, without thinking that the Nevermore’s Principal had seen you do what you were doing. “You will pay for everything you have done.”

Laurel nodded, resigned, taking your hand.

“It's the right thing,” she said, not letting you go for a second.

You looked at her scared. She was going to give herself up. If half the things they said she did were true, you'd never see her again.

You weren't going to allow it. Not now that you knew she had feelings for you. You squeezed her hand hard, causing her to frown at you.

“Calm down, honey… Everything will be fine,” she told you. No one seemed to want to get in the way, but both Larissa and Wednesday couldn't hide their faces of disgust at seeing both of you in that romantic attitude. It was normal, it should be prohibited.

“Turn yourself in right now,” Larissa demanded. “Taking advantage of a student like that will only worsen your sentence.”

Your eyes burned furiously. She hadn't taken advantage of you, she even hesitated to kiss you that night. You didn't know if it was because you were an outcast, or because it was immoral for her to kiss you as your teacher. Any of the reasons was worth it to you. She never asked you for anything, she never used you for anything. She loved you sincerely, despite the terrible internal struggle she had to go through in doing so.

“That's not true…” You hissed, earning the attention of everyone present.

“(Y/N), what did you say?” Larissa asked, looking at you with concern.

“I won't let you lock her up!” you yelled, grabbing the redhead tightly. “Run! Let's go!”

Laurel seemed to doubt her, but she followed you, partly also because you were dragging her.

“Hey, (Y/N)! Come back here immediately!” Larissa shouted, following you along with Wednesday.

“Are you crazy?” The redhead asked, not knowing where to go, just like you.

“I'm not going to let them take you away from me. Not now that I know you love me,” you said panting.

They were chasing you and your forces were beginning to fail you. You decided to use more radical methods. You stopped suddenly and crouched down, resting your hand on the ground.

Quickly, the ground under your hand began to freeze, causing your pursuers to slip and fall to the ground.

“Dammit, (Y/N)! Reconsider!” Weems yelled on the ground.

You didn't answer, you just smiled and kept running.

The redhead turned on her car and soon you were leaving Nevermore behind, and Jericho.

“I can't believe what I've done,” you said, scared, but not sorry.

“You're crazy, (Y/N). Running away with me is not what is best for you…. I want the best for you.”

“Don't keep talking, I want to.”

“It will be dangerous, (Y/N),” she told you, constantly looking in the rearview mirror, in case the police were after you.

“I don't care.”

“I've done horrible things...”

“I don't care,” you answered.

“I wish I had told you earlier how much I love you, (Y/N).”

#marilyn thornhill #marilyn thornhill x reader #wednesday #ms thornhill #oneshot #laurel gates

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