#i scroll through three posts and it’s thirteen

[voxsmistress]

Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo - Part Sixteen!

Hello my gorgeous little demons - I am so sorry this took so long to post! These past few weeks have been hell at work! But never fear, I will always get to writing when I can!

Now ... we've had Voxie's turn, it's Valentino's now ;)

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen Trigger Warnings: Sexual themes, no under 18's allowed, sexual shenanigans, second time writing smut (be kind), Val being his usual sarcastic self!

A few days had passed since your little tryst with Vox, and you were slightly embarrassed that the next day after you basically had to spend it all in bed to recover after your late evening with the Overlord. Even more embarrassed when Velvette came to check up on you and ended up laughing her head off when she realised what was going on. Valentino was a little nicer – and by a little you meant he didn’t laugh �� straight away.

Anyway, after that one day of recovering you were then back to work, focusing on your social media and the upcoming catwalk for Velvette. Your songs were chosen, outfits being made and all that was left was practicing where and when you were going to sing, prance and walk. And by practice you meant again, and again and again until you had to tell Velvette if she kept making you sing over and over your voice would be in tatters for the show. Did you think she was going to give you a break after that? Your voice, yes. Your body, nope. You were made to walk up and down that catwalk, pose in various (idiotic) poses and dance your way back down the catwalk. Safe to say you were absolutely shattered.

Which is why you were currently lying down on the pink chaise lounge in Velvette’s studio; going over paperwork, the last few outfit designs for the other demons and whether any song choices would work better than the ones you had. Velvette was sat beside you, one hand tapping away on her phone and the other one running her fingers through your hair, tugging on the few tangles that were there making sure you were paying attention and not falling asleep which you were apt to do. What could you say, you loved people playing with your hair.

A grumble and a huff from her stopped you from adjusting the one outfit design and instead to look up at her to see a pissed off look on her face. What has happened now?

“You okay there, babe?” Checking on her, you sit up properly as she shakes her phone annoyed.

“That stupid piss baby is blowing up all our phones having a tantrum, like we have time to deal with his dramatics. Vox is busy which means I am going to have to deal with him and I have a hundred different things to do and I just- “ Turning her phone while she ranted so you can see the masses of messages from Valentino you hold back a sigh. He’d been so good recently it was easy to forget that he was the most dramatic out of the three of them (which if you considered how dramatic they all are is an achievement in itself!)

“Sweets don’t worry, I’ll go and chat with him you keep working on what you need to do” you stand from your seat stretching your back which was aching from being laid funny for so long. Vel argued for a few moments before relenting and passing you your phone from the table, popping a quick kiss on her cheek as you walk round her you wiggle your fingers in a goodbye gesture. Entering the elevator you pressed the button for Valentino’s floor. A quick scroll on your phone you see the various messages from Valentino progressively getting more pissed off when no one was replying. Oops. Piss baby indeed.

A sharp ping distracted you from the messages, shoving your phone into your pocket you enter Valentino’s studio. Up till now you had only made a few trips to his studio, preferring the calmness of Vox’s office, or focusing on the clothes in Velvette’s – Val’s had a completely different vibe which sometimes put you on edge. A few steps into the room you could feel the energy was chaotic already. A Valentino shouting at the two pornstars on the stage was the reason why. Sighing under your breath you could easily see he wasn’t exactly as calm as you would have hoped. Well. Here goes nothing.

Walking towards the Overlord, you nod to a few of the demons who recognised you from around the tower and glared at the ones who give you a bit of attitude who obviously don’t realise who you were. They soon would. Coming to a stop at a ranting Val’s side you watch him snap a few directions at the actors with comments on how they could (should) improve. Before he could yell action, you link an arm through his while whispering up into his ear: “is that how you are going to direct me in bed?” His head twists round so fast his glasses nearly fly off, catching them you grin up at the shocked Overlord. Shocked is definitely better than shouting.

“My amorcito (little love), what are you doing here?” Slipping his glasses properly back on his face, you can’t help but chuckle at his question.

“You ask as if you weren’t blowing up all of our phones continuously for the past hour – I’ve come to check up on you”, as you explain one of his arms wraps around your waist to drag you around the side of his chair, so now you were in front of him.

“You came to check on little ol’ me? I am touched!” His other hand was cupping your face, fingers squeezing your cheeks a little harder than normal reminding you of his festering anger. Your own hand came up to rest on his wrist as you nod, his hand controlling how much movement you had which sent a small tingle up your spine. Okay you had definitely been spending way too much time with the Vee’s because when did you get that sort of kink?

He must have seen something in your expression as his own darkened with a sinister grin, his gold tooth flashing at you. Bringing another hand to your waist he hoisted you onto his lap like you weighed nothing, squeaking at the sudden movement you placed your hands on his arms to steady yourself. He had made sure to place you with your back against his chest and two of his arms stayed wrapped around your waist pressing you closer to him.

“If you want to keep me calm little one, I suggest you stay there and stay quiet, yes?” Agreeing you rested against his chest as he shouted at the actors to start again. Sitting there you kept quiet, but with how Valentino was sat you had the full show of what the actors were doing on the stage. Adverting your gaze, a flush started to raise up your neck to your cheeks more so when you couldn’t help but take a cheeky glance. How on hell do they stay in those positions without breaking a sweat? After a few minutes of that position, Val shouted for them to change. His hands rubbing up and down your waist as well as the scene in front of you was making the jeans you were wearing mighty uncomfortable.

Doing your best to ignore the urge the relieve the pressure, you hesitated before shifting on Valentino’s lap to try and stop the seam of your jeans pressing against your clit. Moving a bit too quick, a gasp escaped your lips as small burst of pleasure flashed through your body. A chuckle against your ear made the blush grow even more. Busted.

“Comfortable Princessa?” His hushed words into your ear made a shiver run down your spine. Another chuckle from him caused you to roll your eyes. Of course he was loving this. Ready to shove his arms away from your waist and storm out, a pair of red wings encasing your body stopped you in your tracks. You hadn’t seen his wings before.

“Now sit still and keep that pretty mouth of yours shut while daddy finishes his work”, you are ready to give him some sarcastic and harsh words, but a quick hand sneaked down the front of your jeans and underwear. Slipping a finger in between your wet lips gathering the wetness up and pressing harshly against your clit made any words you wanted to say to stay stuck in your throat. Gulping back the moan that wanted to escape, you clench your thighs together to try stop him from moving his fingers.

Tutting quietly into your ear, two hands easily push your thighs apart and hold them open while the hand that was down your jeans was alternating between circling your clit and dipping into your tight hole. “Now mi carño, that bratty attitude might work with Voxie, but not with me you understand?” Your concentration was gone with the fingers that were pushing you closer and closer to the edge making you whine under your breath when they came to a stop. Blinking up at him, his free hand wrapped around your neck harshly before giving you a small shake. “Are you that starved for attention little one that you have become dumb as soon as I touch you? I asked you a question!” He snarls down at you, swallowing a groan you try to rack your brains at what he asked you before. It was so hard to think while his fingers were working you so well and that hand around your neck was just helping push you closer to that edge. Bratty. Bratty attitude that was what he asked you.

“I understand Papi” you whisper, hiding your smirk at the dark expression he gave you. A finger driving deeper into you was your retribution for the snarky comment. Worth it. He yanked your body closer to his chest by the hand on your throat, keeping you plastered against him as his other hands kept your legs open and driving you higher and higher.

“Does it turn you on that we are doing this where anyone could see us Y/n? All it takes is for me to move my wings and anyone can see you unravel on my fingers” licking up your neck making a small moan escapes your lips.

“It does, but do you really want others to see me in that position? To see me fall apart at your hands when my reactions should only be reserved for you three Vee’s?” You turn your head to stare into his lensed glare. You knew you were playing with fire. Valentino was the most jealous and possessive of the three, but he was also the most unpredictable. A thrill ran through your body as he growled into your shoulder, biting down on it hard making you groan. Shit that hurt! Removing his teeth, you see his possessive bite mark on your shoulder. The sound he let out was almost a purr as he ran his tongue over the mark, his fingers moving quicker on your clit causing you to slam your head back into his chest and hold back the moans so only a few whimpers fell from your lips.

He laughed at you, shouting a few more orders and commands at the actors being completely at ease while you were falling apart at the seams. So close to the edge you dug your fingers into his arms, whimpers and moans escaping you more often now but you had stopped caring if the other demons could hear. You were so focused on the feeling coursing through your veins you couldn’t give a fuck if the rest of the room heard you scream.

Val did some sort of voodoo move with his fingers that had you cuming without even realising that you had not just hit the edge but had flown off it. The hand that was around your throat was now across your mouth muffling all the moans and shouts as Valentino shouted cut and for everyone to fuck off out of the room.

Twitching and twisting away from his fingers that continued moving, you shook your head at Val. It was too much. Too much. You tried to get your hands down your jeans to stop him, but they were caught by his own.

“My little chulito, you didn’t think I was finished with you yet, did you?”

Fuck!

Taglist:

@tasha-1994 @azullynxx @reath-solia @leathesimp @klorinda

@the-maladaptivedaydreamer @songbrita @midge7838 @joumi13 @wonderlandangelsposts @th3rizzler

@ace-spades-1 @iamferalfordilfs

@justgiulia @kittycatkrissa @qu1cks1lversb1tch @martinys-world @superwholatacohunters @mysticvoide

@rosiethevoxobesser

@skullhorn59 @sarcastic-sourwolf

@samanthastarss @hazbinz-vixxie

@shinynewboots

[starwrighter]

I am not a baby!! (Yes you are)

(Ao3) (Masterpost) (Previous) (Next)

(Chapter thirteen)

Gone with one issue on to the next, post haste! It was like this year was pelting him with problem after problem. Of course, a quantum destination would be the next space on his bingo card of disasters! Why wouldn’t it be?! If there’s one thing the universe would never give him it was a break. That nap was a curse! He made up for too much of the sleep he’d lost back home. Now, there was karma to pay for those extra few hours of sleep. 

Granted, he felt better than yesterday, but was it worth the quantum detonation? Temptation says yes but logical thinking says no. Logical thinking also said nothing he could’ve done would’ve prevented the damage to the drive core. It would have already started to degrade from seawater pouring in before he even got there. It was nice to know this one thing wasn’t his fault, but it wouldn’t soothe the anxiety of knowing the Aurora was going to explode.

The damage a drive core from a ship the Aurora’s size could cause would be catastrophic. The radiation alone was a planet-ending event. Could he prevent this with his limited access to his powers? There were no blueprints for a radiation suit in his PDA and he doubts he could make one himself. Building what was essentially a hazmat divesuit strong enough to protect him from the lethal doses of radiation the aurora was dishing out wasn’t the same as building a table. Did he still have any kind of immunity to radiation? 

Regardless, he’s a Fenton! He got irradiated for breakfast! 

Swimming back to his base, Danny began pilfering through his storage. If he’s even going to try attempting to stop a quantum detonation, a seamoth would be helpful. Not only did it sound cool as hell, it’d make traversing through the waters a piece of cake! Only… The blueprints wasn’t there and data corruption was to blame. Cursing, Danny collapsed to the floor, scrolling desperately through all the blueprints over and over again. He’d regained the blueprint for the mobile vehicle bay, but there was no amount of tampering that’d give him the Seamoth. The mobile vehicle bay was useless without a vehicle! 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Danny decided this was the perfect time to check the radio. Any information concerning the rendevuos would be a life saver!

Swimming back to his pod, a cloud of rot spilled into the ocean. The foul odor of the remaining goo assaulted his nostrils. Nausea bubbled in his stomach, bile crawling up his throat. He crawled back into the pod. They say the smell of human decomposition was one the human body was hardwired to recognize and Danny could now say with confidence that rotting halfa was the same. Even if he’d been completely unaware of the lifepod’s contents the smell alone sent a shiver down his spine. It was easier to dissociate the pile of goo on the floor before it’d decomposed to this extent. Dried blood stained the floor any green that’d been there was gone without a trace.

This…This would be a gruesome site for whoever was going to collect the life pods after this was over. It’s a difficult scene for him to see for ancient's sake! It was funny to think that despite the horrid smell and blood, he’d rather have found something like this in Lifepod 3. Bodies, or at least more than a PDA entry to prove someone was here! He’d perfer finding blood and rot than have the dead be forgotten so easily. They’d died within the meager three hours Danny had been unconscious, and been torn into by local wildlife until nothing remained before anyone could respond to their distress signal.

Tearing his eyes away from the puddle, Danny sucked in a deep breath, regretting it instantly as putrid air filled his lungs. His PDA screamed, biohazard warnings taking over the screen, begging him to leave. With a shake of his head, Danny covered his nose with his hand toddling towards the radio. The device was flashing and Danny couldn’t hit a play button harder than he had today. 

“Playing pre-recorded distress call…” Waiting on his tippy toes Danny stared at the device with hope-filled eyes as a human voice sounded through the pod.

“This is Ozzy from the cafeteria. What the hell guys?! They didn’t warn us this might happen!” Danny’s heart sank as the message continued.

“Our pod was almost crushed by the seamoth bay on the way down, now we’re hanging on the edge of a cave system and this grim-looking snake thing’s trying to eat through the hull! Come get us already!” 

Saying that didn’t sound good would’ve been an understatement. How many hours had it been since this message was sent? A grim-looking snake thing? He has someone like that outside. Chances were they weren’t talking about the same snake thing.

 Dami has a snake-like body, but he resembles more of a dragon or a sea serpent…Dami hadn’t even made an attempt to hurt Danny or his little base. Sure, he scratched the glass but Danny had a feeling those claws were capable of much worse. Trust was a strong word to use when talking about a giant sea monster but Danny was confident Dami wouldn’t freak out and try to kill him for no reason.

All he’d done since seeing him was give reason after reason to kill him! Honestly, Dami just seems confused by his existence, but to be fair Danny is too. Logically he should be permanently dead, erased from every plane of existence but something gave him a third chance at life. Now he’s everyone’s problem!

Updating the signal to his PDA Danny crawled back out the lifepod, a signal to follow and materials to gather.

@ashoutinthedarkness @avelnfear @meira-3919 @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @hugsandchaos @blep-23 @zeldomnyo @bytheoldwillowtree @justwannabecat @shepherdsheart @starlightcat04 @stargazing-bookwyrm @pupstim @dragongoblet @noxcheshire

[lordsukunas]

boyfriend! yuuta hcs for valentine's day!

happy (early) valentine's day y'all! if ur single, buy urself some chocolate<3 anyway, i hope y'all like this. the ending is rushed... whoops. pls enjoy & here is a song i think fits yuuta :3

boyfriend! yuuta who asks you to be his valentine on the first of feb with a handmade card. he even gives you a little bag of heart-shaped candy.

boyfriend! yuuta whose face flushes when you smile so sweetly at him and agree to be his valentine. he's pretty sure his heart stopped for a good three beats.

boyfriend! yuuta who spends the next thirteen days trying to come up with the perfect gift. of course, he knows you like the back of his hand, so finding a gift shouldn't be difficult. and, well, it isn't. but yuuta wants you to have the perfect gift.

boyfriend! yuuta who buys all of the typical gifts: chocolates, a cuddly teddy bear with a heart, a heart-shaped balloon, and roses.

boyfriend! yuuta who, ever the dutiful lover, asks maki and nobara for advice. both say a hard no to the roses.

"they're so stereotypical. makes it seem like you don't really care, y'know?"

they're tempted to say no to all of his other options, finding them a bit... corny, but the crestfallen look on yuuta's face when they boo the flowers kills any thoughts of disapproving his other options. plus, knowing you, you're bound to like it.

boyfriend! yuuta who takes maki's and nobara's advice to heart. he never wants to neglect you or make you feel unwanted.

boyfriend! yuuta who does his research on the different types of flowers and their meanings. he jots down some on a sticky note, but the second he comes across the forget-me-nots, his decision is made.

boyfriend! yuuta who scrolls through forums and social media posts to find an idea of what the perfect gift for you should be.

boyfriend! yuuta who buys you this necklace. he thinks it's beautiful, and it's not as forward as a promise ring.

boyfriend! yuuta who perfectly wraps and bags your gifts. he wraps the heart-shaped box of chocolates, places the teddy bear into a gift bag with red and pink tissue paper, and ties the box holding your necklace with a red ribbon.

boyfriend! yuuta who makes sure the bouquet of forget-me-nots are fresh and cut.

boyfriend! yuuta who can't stop bouncing his leg while waiting for you to show up. the waitress has asked him if he needed anything about three times.

boyfriend! yuuta who smiles nervously when you enter the cafe and take a seat at the somewhat secluded table.

boyfriend! yuuta who tries his best to ignore the knots in his stomach as he places his gifts on the table. there's already an apology ready on his tongue if you don't like any of the gifts or if you're allergic to chocolate, despite yuuta asking you numerous times beforehand and seeing you eat chocolate before.

boyfriend! yuuta whose anxiety instantly disappears once he sees that beautiful smile bloom on your face and the grateful twinkle in your eyes.

boyfriend! yuuta who decides right then and there that he'd do anything to continue seeing that big, bright smile.

note: sorry i haven't posted... writing has been difficult lately + skewl has been ass SOO yeah! sorry y'all :( umm i have sumn for bff! sukuna but idk if anyone would actually like it? like i don't wanna ruin the og post by posting some sequel (prequel?) that nobody gaf abt. also try for 400+ notes on that post omg!!! also also i swear i haven't forgotten abt daycare attendant! nanami i just have no ideas n the ones i do have are rotting in drafts... anyway i've rambled long enough ENJOY UR DAYYYY GUYS <333

[faylesswriter]

Chapter Thirteen is about 90% complete! I have edited everything and only need to write one more page, read through it one more time, and then make the end of chapter social media edit and it’ll be ready to post! I’m thinking maybe sometime Monday…but don’t quote me on that.

Here’s a sneak peek 🫣:

Count to THREE, Chapter Thirteen Preview:

Jimin hadn’t felt as content as he did now in a very long time. Although he could feel his left arm and shoulder were out of the blankets, his body was pleasantly warm. The type of warmth that reached past skin deep, like the first bite of a crispy pastry fresh out of the oven. Or when you take a drink out of a latte and are hit with the soothing notes of fresh, pure vanilla. 

Maybe he was just hungry.

As if on cue, he felt his stomach pinch up, and a soft grumble broke the peaceful sounds of silent breathing. This was followed by a muffled, sleepy chuckle that had the omega tense up in his half-awake state.  

He wasn’t sharing this comfortable morning warmth alone. 

The blonde slowly turned his face away from the soothing, pooling vanilla scent, his eyes peeking over the hard mound lying closely beside him. Jungkook was on his back, one arm under his head while the other held his phone. He appeared to be aimlessly scrolling through his social media. 

“You sound hungry, hyung.” Something about the alpha’s voice, thick with sleep, sent a dizzying fog throughout Jimin’s body; it was embarrassing the toll it had on his entire system. 

“Wha…huh?” Articulate, really, truly the reply of someone with a medical degree. 

“Your stomach. It’s snitching on you.” If Jungkook’s morning voice was enough to make his head turn to mush, Jimin was sure he’d have life-lasting effects on his cognitive abilities when the alpha lowered his phone and turned to face him. It should be a federal crime to look this good in the morning.

He knew he looked like an awe-struck idiot, mouth gaped and eyes unblinking. He knew he was giving himself away at just how affected he was by lying beside the alpha. He could tell by the steady smirk and soft eyes the alpha was giving him, their breath mixing together. 

You can read Count to THREE on AO3 here 💜 :

[bittersweetresilience]

sunny's year half year in review

because i am all about that self celebration 👏

achievements

🏅 joined a fandom 🏅 got married (🌖) 🏅 made friends (🏮🌺🌋🍜🍀🕊️🦌🧬💤🦎🦭☄️✍️🪨🪶🦚💝🎞️🪄🍞) 🏅 learned new things (📸🪡📑) 🏅 sunnyscrambles

creations

an ongoing amélie dissertation in sentitwin soulmate au. next chapter will be posted on new year's day and will feature art from @moonieratty!

félix and amélie webweaves. my favorites that i've made! all literature is from my graham de vanily reading lists.

ladynoir amv. so many episodes in this. my storage space...

multifandom webweave. the first one i made and still very important to me!

i entered a feverish haze after @nemaliwrites's remixes introduced me to a softer world and the result was Feelings.

my favorite fic i wrote this year. mind the trigger warnings.

recommendations

running in the shadow

i cannot describe how much this fic means to me. i left hundreds of messages during my liveread and i wept all through my comment and my reblog and still it's not nearly enough. it's one of my favorite gifts, one of my favorite fics, and one of my favorite works of art i've ever seen. thank you to @wackus-bonkus-maximus for being a role model, an inspiration, and my first fandom friend.

i love you (for senti-mental reasons)

as the head of the as time goes by pr team, i would be remiss not to recommend something from this series! félix in this universe makes me turn into dynamite. second recommendation is betcha on land (they understand). i'm a big fan of @redundant-lava, you see.

i know there's been pain this year (but it's time to let it go)

what's there not to like about @ninadove's sentitwins? her christmas fic blew me away. i love her creative costume designs, her references to classics and video games, and her accompanying fic art. honorable mentions to la nuit, tous les chats sont gris and everything i did (i did for you).

bon voyage

one of the original highlights of my summer. the dream sequence in chapter four blew my mind. the way this fic was planned to end drives me nuts in the best way.

bell the cat

the single most amazing fantasy au i've read. i'm regularly awed by how incredible it is, and awed by @heartfulselkie's writing, art, and person in general. if i learned how to bind books, this would be at the top of my list. i keep saying it because it's true.

thirteen

our monthly dosage of pain, exquisite backstory exploration, and gorgeous @anna-scribbles prose. i'm always a sucker for pre-canon and this is The fic for adrien pre-canon fans. christmas félix will make me explode.

a rose by any other name

i love everything @asukiess makes but shoutout to loveybug au for being such a fun and creative time for the lovesquare fandom. this fic also comes with the loveyvelours art of all time. the other day i started thinking about kuro neko unprompted. autumn is in my brain...

phoenix félix

this isn't a fic, but i'll never miss a chance to scream about art by @luckychatons. phoenix félix is immortalized in my discord profile picture. i'm blessed to receive secret félix doodles and catsona designs on the down low!

moonie

just scroll through their entire art account. everything they make is an eye feast, and they haven't even posted the half of it. my partner and creative inspiration. the moon to my sun. buy them a coffee for always supporting dead girls club.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

hi, so i recently found your fanfic on my dash and i would love to get started on it... problem is i scrolled through your tag on the blog and i can't find several chapters, especially the ones in the beginning.. do you have a masterpost for your chapters?

Hiya, thanks so much for your interest!

Sorry about this - I do really wish I’d done a better job of organising it, when I started writing I had a very casual attitude towards it and wasn’t expecting it to get any attention but now I’m absolutely obsessed and 77 chapters deep and I don’t know when that happened 😅 I don’t currently have a master list but I’ll link chapter 1 through 15 on this post for you, and then after that I think the tagging is more consistent and they should all be under the tag “maya olsen oc” but if there are any that don’t show up or it isn’t working properly or anything let me know and I’ll fix it.

I am also hoping to put it on ao3 but I don’t really know what I’m doing and I’m yet to figure out how to make an account, but when I manage to do that I will put a link on here and hopefully that will make it easier.

Thanks so much for your interest and if you do read then I hope you enjoy!

Links:

Chapter One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen and Fourteen

Fifteen

Hopefully these should work but let me know if there’s any problems :)

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

I don't know if it's the WIP Weekend or Wedneday, but 🍽️ please

I'm free until Sunday, so it's WIP weekend and WIP Wednesday all rolled into one. 😅

We need more of them, not another exchangeable mall run by soulless corporations.”

The post has one-thousand-three-hundred-and-thirteen reblogs. Eddie is still scrolling through them with numb fingers, eyes flitting over hashtags such as #thankyouforshoppinglocal and #supportsmallbusiness and #relationshipgoals and #gaypride when the phone rings again.

“I don't understand,” he stammers into it.

Make me write more!

[annakie]

FIXING THE HOUSE Chapter 7 (Sorta) - Let's go Backwards to go Forwards

Part One: I Do Not, In Fact, Have the Power

Part Two: Let’s Spend Lots of Money!

Part Three: All These Things That I’ve Done

Part Four: I Really Want to Stay At My House

A little interlude.

Part Five: Power Down

Part Six: You Will Leave Some Paint

Part Seven: Backwards to go Forwards (YOU ARE HERE)

Part Eight: Master of Bathrooms

Part Nine: Within a Room, Somewhere

Part Ten: Rooms With No View

Part Eleven: Big Bang Room Part A and also Part B!

Part Twelve: We Can Make It On the Outside

Part Thirteen: Mauve Haze Symphony

Part Fourteen (A) - In the Kitchen

Part Fourteen (B) - Copper Green

-----

(A note from the future about this post: When I made it I intended it to be the big flashback post but then I ended up making more detailed flashback posts when I posted about each room so a lot of the information here gets re-told in more detail later, sorry!)

In the summer of 2003, it felt like all of my friends were moving forward with their lives but me.

Two of my friends had gotten married a year or two earlier and were living a ways away but had rented a house.

Two more friends had just gotten married, and were buying a house.

Two more had just gotten into a serious relationship, and he decided to buy a house. She was moving in and paying rent. A year or so later they'd get married, too.

I wasn't in a relationship but was the oldest in the friend group and I was still renting a one bedroom apartment.

I got the bug in my ear that I should buy a house, too.

Once again, a very long post.

I just want to make it clear -- this is more of a flashback episode than updates on what's been going on. But it's important.

Those three couples all eventually had houses all in the same neighborhood. I couldn't afford their neighborhood. Honestly I couldn't afford a house at all but that was right during the time that banks were handing out mortgages like candy.

I shouldn't have been house shopping, but I did it anyway. Somehow my mom agreed to co-sign with me. She shouldn't have, tbh I was a bad bet credit wise at that time, but she did.

After losing out on a couple of bids, I finally found this house I really loved from the outside. The thing was, they weren't letting people inside for awhile, but the price was great and it looked great from the outside.

I put in an offer before seeing the inside (Pro Tip: never do this) with money I didn't really have, and despite many warning signs that I shouldn't be buying this house, I went ahead and did it anyway.

For several years, it was a really bad decision.

This house had been a rental for like 20 years before I bought it. It was severely neglected, but it had been fixed up just enough by the previous owners to hide the most glaring problems with it.

So much went wrong those first few years that I was more or less always in debt, lurching from problem to problem, borrowing money from my parents to keep the AC going and sewer flowing. Eventually my mom just paid to fix the sewer rather than call a plumber every month or two. (Eventually, I paid her back). Now I just have to call one out once a year or so.

And y'all, the house was ugly inside. Just really not updated almost at all since the 60's. Nobody gave a shit.

A few things had happened, three layers of wallpaper in the bathrooms and kitchen, and two layers of peel and stick tiles on the floor.

But most things were original to the house, or maybe updated in the mid to late 80's at the newest.

In 2004 when I'd done what I could with the place I started writing a walkthrough with pictures. It's not complete, I never did the bedrooms or master bath... I think I have pictures of those, I'll fill in later. But just scrolling through that and taking a look is super cringe for me and maybe entertaining for you. (Note from the future: A lot of the pictuers get used later in these posts.) Also, hey, some of my friends and family are in there, too.

It will give you a decent idea of where I started, so later you can see where I am now and why doing this has been so damn important to me.

-----

I had a few bits of good luck, one of those couples mentioned above gave me their old washer and dryer which I still have and use to this day, I bought a dishwasher and fridge at the Sears Scratch and Dent store and the fridge is still running... for now. And my mortgage company had paid for a home warranty for the year AND GOT USED HEAVILY. It saved my ass a time or two, I re-upped it for a few years.

Once I got ripped off by a new furnace install that was an utter disaster and almost killed me with carbon monoxide poisoning until I got the warranty company to send out a better repair guy who probably saved my life.

My parents would come once or twice a year and help me do all the repairs and improvements I could afford, and usually kick in some of their own money to help.

I had secondhand and salvaged furniture, much of it came from relatives who downsized or passed. I scoured yard sales for stuff to put in the house. I was paying off $4000ish on a $1700ish bedroom suite. I was at a job that was severely underpaying me and then everyone there got a paycut in 2007. I had no savings, maybe I'd scrape up $1000 which would get eaten by a new emergency every time I got it together.

It was bad. For about my first decade in this house I was barely scraping by.

I made a post about it 10 years ago, and I still agree with basically everything I said in there. And that was when things had just started to turn around for me financially so that I wasn't lurching from paycheck to paycheck.

These are also linked there, but in 2008 my mom came into a little money and gave me a couple thousand and I was able to get all of the floors redone, and new countertops/sink in the kitchen.

These Flickr sets show even better just how bad it was, and how much it was improved. Except I made a huge mistake and got carpet in the bedrooms instead of Laminate everywhere. Something I'd start regretting days into the new floors and would keep regretting deeply for a few years. (Note from the future: These pictures also get used in future posts in this series.) New Floors

New Countertops

With the countertops came a sink and faucet. Instead of laminate countertop from 1963 that had worn through and had holes in it, I had the cheapest countertop Home Depot had but it was new and looked decent. Instead of peel and stick linoleum I had the cheapest laminate flooring on the market but it was way better than the forever-stained brown carpet from the 80's.

That was the first time the house felt livable at least, finally.

In 2012 I got a better job, and finally started having some savings. I spent about $1500 one weekend with my parents upgrading the bathrooms. We bought $250 cabinets from Home Depot, two of the same ones, two of the same faucets, two of the same toilets.

We re-painted the bathrooms because I was thinking of selling the house at that point.

I was a big dummy and never finished painting the hall bath -- ever. It was still only like 90% done for nine years. I have no excuse for that. I just kinda stopped seeing it.

The very worst problems of the house were solved then, and my house was... okay.

The pictures in that Flickr set make it look almost nice in some places.

Except for a few things.

Like that when you took a shower in the master bath it had started having water seep through under the trim back into the bathroom.

I hadn't taken a shower in my master bath since about 2004.

And the hall bath, while it worked, the entire tub area was a nightmare. A horrorshow, honestly. I mean, it worked though. It was just really ugly, and a little grosser every year. But hey, as long as you kept the shower curtain closed, I only had to contend with it a few minutes a day.

----

In 2019, things had spiraled a bit in the house. I made a couple of posts about this, and how my friend Ange came to visit so I did a big cleanout of the house, and replaced the carpet with new laminate.

Here's the first and second post. Well it's the second post that links to the first post.

Here's the followup post.

It was a huge blessing that I did this, that Ange's visit got me to get my house in order. I put a lot of work into it, and in the end it paid off not only because I wasn't that ashamed of most of my house when Ange was here (I mean, still, the garage was a huge Problem, the bathtub had continued to deteriorate and still wasn't fully painted, and the dining room was still full of STUFF that needed to be sorted and put away when she got here) but it was enough.

Then, you know, 4 months later we all stayed home for a year or two and having a house that was improved and decluttered significantly went a long way towards being OK mentally that year.

----

Four years on, and some of the things that had been bad had gotten worse. For instance, the 1960's electric wiring. The house once again had more clutter than I was comfortable with, and the tub situation had gotten fucking dire. Also, the cheap, cheap laminate in most of the house from 2008 was really showing its wear... it had not only started separating at the point in the house that got the most traffic, but it had water damage there, and in other places, too.

Things that were bad, like the state of the windows, hadn't gotten better. The kids across the street shot BBs at my garage one day and one went through one of my garage windows (I didn't catch them in the act but I saw them with it a few weeks later. I love those kids, I'm friendly with the family, and at that point I was like IDGAF, tbh.) The patio roof was a few years from falling down from rot. And a whole host of other things I've posted here and some I haven't.

-----

Y'all, I'm aware that I'm damn lucky to own a house, especially in this market. I'm lucky that I was old enough to buy one before prices skyrocketed and I bought one cheap enough (even in 2003 prices) that I ended up not losing it when the housing market exploded in 2007 and even with my iffy financial situation I sailed out of that OK when so many others didn't.

I am aware I'm talking about something now that it's ridiculously out of reach for so many people, and that situation is just unbelievably shitty, and I'm sorry for that.

-----

At one point when all these renovations started, a friend of mine, one who is in a lot of the 2004 pictures and was one of the couples who bought their house in 2004 asked me if I would still buy a house knowing everything I went through the first few years, all of the things that have gone so very wrong with this place. All of the ugly things that didn't get fixed for 21 years, and how much money this place would cost me.

At the time, I told them I wish I could go back and tell myself do not buy THIS house. Get a house, just not THIS ONE.

But then, a few hours later I re-thought my decision. There's a few reasons why... even through it all, I'd get this house.

Here's the three most important reasons.

And about a half dozen other cats, and two dogs, that I've rescued and re-homed, or just ferals I've taken care of, because I lived in this house.

I wouldn't have Fry, or Pemily, and I wouldn't have had Patchy (or re-homed her babies) if I didn't live here, because they all came from my backyard. I don't think any of them would have survived, and Pemily probably would have never been born.

I also have good neighbors. We look after each other but also mostly mind our own damn business. We're not in a floodplain, taxes are relatively low. It's a decent place to be, even if all my friends who used to live near me moved farther away except one.

So, yeah.

After 21 years I'd saved enough and in the end when I found someone I liked and trusted and who didn't charge crazy amounts of money (HONESTLY I think Arturo didn't charge me ENOUGH) all of this spiraled from "Well we'd better get the electricity fixed so the house doesn't burn down" to... well... what it is now.

It's starting to wind down. We just need a couple more good days of work and it'll be over, for now.

Hopefully then I'll have time to finish this extremely long story and share all the pictures and all the stuff that's happened, more than I have, and show you what Arturo and I made from what you've seen in all the pictures in the links above, if you looked.

I'll be back as soon as I have the time. :)

[rainevargkyn]

hello friend. how are you? I've been scrolling through your blog and i can sense this deep sadness and loneliness emanating from it. i hope you take care of yourself and fill your your own cup. sending you love and healing energy! :) 🧿🩷

Thank you for your kind words. The sadness you felt is very real. About three weeks ago, fate separated me from my soulmate, the one I spent thirteen beautiful years with, and our daughter, who was only eleven. Every post, every word you read is part of my search to find them again.

The ache comes from not knowing where they are, how to reach them, or even if they’re safe. But I keep going. I have to. Thank you again for taking a moment to see me. It means more than you know.

[junsibug]

sharing.

I think when most people think of Tumblr, aesthetic or fandom-dedicated media springs to mind. Of course, those are huge demographics that make up the platform, the latter being how I found the website myself at thirteen, but this "media" is displayed on a "blog." Now, when envisioning what a blog might entail, I think of words, thoughts, and maybe a shared recipe or two, depending on what corner of the internet you're on.

However, in this sea of regurgitated media and A.I nonsense that is now become of the web in 2025, a post, meme, or an "original experience," is few and far in between. I could scroll through Pinterest for an hour and only find three pictures I haven't seen posted there or elsewhere. One might find comfort in being able to toss anything into the abyss, whether it be original per se, or not, but I personally have struggled to find solace in this unknown.

Perhaps it's because my mother instilled a deep trepidation of my digital footprint, but since I never got into an Ivy League school nor came even close, I don't think that really matters anymore. That is, unless my boss at a future 9-5 gets a sick thrill out of embarrassing me-- God knows I'll look back on this merely a week from now and implode from shame.

Nevertheless, shielding myself from things has never done me well, and of course, it inhibits growth-- a flower can't grow in the shade, or something like that. So, as I've become more privy to sharing my writing and more personal aspects of myself recently, I say, why not throw a bit into the abyss, too?

[iwriteasfotini]

The Whomping Willow Tunnel - Part I

I would be surprised if I can fit this Meta into a single post. I think it will be far too long. Let's begin with examining the physical traits of this tunnel, as we have done with the other two. Get ready to have your brain scrambled! And for us Marauders fans, to feel your blood boil.

Harry travels down this tunnel in POA and again in DH, so we have a lot of opportunities to witness the physical features being described. Let's move through the descriptions chronologically. I will summarize the physical traits at the end. Feel free to scroll down if you don't need all this evidence pointed out.

This passage is from POA Chapter Seventeen - Cat, Rat, and Dog

Physical Traits:

The entrance to the tunnel is described as a "gap in the roots" - POA Ch17

Harry had to "[crawl] forward, headfirst, and slide down an earthy slope" to enter the tunnel - POA Ch17

Hermione is described as "slithered down" - POA Ch17

"setting off, bent-backed" implies the tunnel is too low for Harry to stand up in as a thirteen year old boy - POA Ch17

This passage is also from POA Chapter Seventeen - Cat, Rat, and Dog.

Physical Traits:

The tunnel is too low to stand in, they are "bent almost double" - POA Ch17

"at least as long as the one to Honeydukes" - POA Ch17

The tunnel rises toward the Shrieking Shack end - POA Ch17

There is a "twist" very close to the opening - POA Ch17

In this instance, there is "dim light through a small opening" - POA Ch17

The opening on the Shack side is "small" - POA Ch17

Harry and Hermione "both raised their wands to see what lay beyond" - POA Ch17

This passage is also from POA Chapter Seventeen - Cat, Rat, and Dog.

Physical Traits:

On the Shack side, the tunnel ends in a hole Harry "pulls himself out of" - POA Ch17

*I'd like to make a note here. I am wondering if this is a hole in the floor which Harry pulls himself up and out of, or a hole in the wall which he crawls out of? The use of the verb "pulls" leads me to believe the hole is in the floor, unless the opening is truly so narrow Harry cannot crawl and has to pull himself forward on his stomach like a snake. If the hole is in the floor, as I suspect (and as would make sense for the building as they do not arrive in an underground cellar) how did Harry see what lay beyond the tunnel without "popping his head" out of said entrance? Generally, it would be assumed that what Harry and Hermione could see of the room before they emerged into the room's ceiling.

Jumping ahead to the next scene were we get physical description of the tunnel in POA Chapter 20 - The Dementor's Kiss.

Physical Traits:

Remus, Peter, and Ron (all chained together) had to "turn sideways" to gain entry into the tunnel - POA Ch20

Unconscious and levitated Severus kept "bumping his lolling head on the low ceiling" - POA Ch 20

These passages are also from Chapter 20 - The Dementor's Kiss.

Physical Traits:

"Sirius turned right around" - POA Ch20

"Snape's head was scraping the ceiling" - POA Ch20

Three chained together people "clambered upward" - POA Ch20

Sirius "stood back for Harry and Hermione to pass" - POA Ch20

Now we have a BIG time jump to DH Chapter 32 - The Elder Wand. Apparently is was so BIG JKR had enough time to dig herself an entirely DIFFERENT passage.

Physical Traits:

"wriggled in" - DH Ch32

"much tighter squeeze than it had been last time" - DH Ch32

"low-ceilinged" - DH Ch32

"now there was nothing for it but to crawl" - DH Ch32

"tunnel began to slope upward and Harry saw a sliver of light ahead." - DH Ch32

I'm not going to comment, yet.

Here's the next passage, same chapter. Sorry about the page break in the screenshot.

Physical Traits:

"continued on hands and knees" - DH Ch32

"room directly ahead of them" - DH CH32

"opening at the end of the tunnel had been blocked up by what looked like an old crate" - DH Ch32

"Harry edged right up to the opening" - DH Ch32

Also from Chapter 32 - The Elder Wand.

Physical Traits:

Harry looked through a crack "between crate and wall" - DH Ch32

"he pulled himself up into the room" - DH Ch32

Hang with me folks, only one left! Chapter 33 - The Prince's Tale.

Physical Traits:

"crawled" - DH Ch33

Wow, I don't know about you but that was a lot to digest. Here is a summary descriptions of the main physical features (how big/small the entrance on each end is, how big/small the passage itself is, where the entrance in the Shack is located).

Physical Trait Summary

Entrance on both ends is referenced as being relatively small 4 times

Entrance on both ends is large enough for three joined up people to get and out of 2 times

Tunnel is too low for Harry to stand up in 5 times

Tunnel is high enough for people to walk through (and pass each other on one occasion) 3 times

Entrance is seemingly in the floor 2 times

Entrance is seemingly in the wall 2 times

What exactly does this tunnel look like?

I have no F$*#ing clue.

Harry travels through it four times, twice in each direction.

I can definitively say it is underground and dark. Haha!

I'm not going to recount all the discrepancies, they are glaringly obvious.

Why the tunnel is suddenly inexplicably smaller in DH than it is in POA (where it's dimensions are already contradictory within the same work) is a true mystery. I'd argue mood setting, but honestly, does that tiny tunnel add anything to the mood? Do you know how LONG it would have taken the trio to CRAWL all the way to Hogsmeade and back (remember it's about a mile). I seem to remember Harry had a very definitive "ONE HOUR" of time during which to complete this little side mission, watch all Severus' memories, AND get himself into the Forbidden Forest. Seems unlikely he would have been able to accomplish it with two miles of crawling involved.

Up next... What the multiple discrepancies of this tunnel mean.

[summercourtship]

stay to burn (only to drown instead): chapter four: thirteen floors [part I]

masterpost | ao3 link

jonathan crane x reader; bruce wayne x reader; edward nashton x reader | warnings: canon typical violence, sexual content | word count: 6063 words

DISCLAIMER: these chapters are not meant to be read alone. not every chapter has content for one of the three pairings listed. this is an ongoing fanfiction that I am cross-posting here on tumblr, not a series of one-shots.

chapter one

November fifth. Gotham Square Garden.

You held a notepad- the kind that detectives in movies used, the flip kind. You’d felt so cool and professional when you picked it up at a stationery store in the Midtown, so ready to take on this project.

You couldn’t remember, now, if you had gotten the notebook before or after the Riddler showed up in the city. You can’t imagine having been excited for the assignment otherwise, just some boring paper on the current mayoral race.

No, the Riddler made it important. So you must have bought it after he killed the Mayor. Maybe after he killed the Police Commissioner, when he was fully revealed to the public.

Even though it had only been a week since the murders began, it felt like a year had passed. You’d traveled all over downtown Gotham, going to events you normally wouldn’t have bothered with.

Your excitement for the assignment had dwindled a bit since the mayor’s funeral, since witnessing the large SUV crash through the wall of City Hall, since seeing Gil Coulson stumble out with a collar bomb strapped around his neck. You’d been escorted out in a hurry, but you craned your neck over the railing anyway, trying to get a better view before they took you out.

Your phone buzzed from inside your pocket, a notification from your friend’s group chat popping up on your screen. You scrolled back through the conversation, returning to the last message you’d read.

Gotham Girlies Marie: Hey what are you guys doing your final project on for the History of Gotham class? I need to have my proposal in by like last week and I’ve been obvi putting it off. Lisa: I’m doing mine of the history of women’s rights in the city Bridgit: Sick Bridgit: I’m doing some light research into the history of the mob in the city Bridgit: Gotta be careful tho, you know? Bridgit: can’t let them know im looking into them lol

You began typing out your response, tucking your notebook under your arm.

I guess mine is more current events but I’m doing it on the current election.

You paused, staring at the message, realizing that saying it was about the current election was kinda a misnomer. Because it wasn’t really about that anymore, was it?

Tho I guess it’s more about the Riddler now, right? Kinda changed the trajectory of the paper but oh well.

You hit send before sliding your phone back into your pocket. The reception wasn’t good at all in the Garden, and you didn't want to bother watching the message try to send for the next minute before it gave up and said it would try again later.

Instead, you looked around the space, your eyes eventually landing on the lighting fixture in the middle of the room. The large screens replayed the same few slides of messages, congratulating Bella for her win (as they should), advertising a pizza place, showing events coming to the Garden. Then your eyes slid upwards from the screen, attention caught by a small flicker of movement. Narrowing your eyes, you tried to figure out what you were seeing.

Huh.

Interesting.

There were people up there.

You couldn’t really make out their features, just their silhouettes and a glint as their outfits reflected the lights in the way that wet waterproof material does.

You remembered wondering if they were part of some maintenance crew, but what kind of maintenance crew would do work on election night or any other big event at the Garden? Shouldn’t that work be reserved for the times where the venue was empty? How unfortunate for them, to need to be all the way up there and doing god-knows-what when there’s a huge crowd below them-

You forget exactly when it truly began. You knew that you were looking up at them, trying to figure out what they were doing, but you had no idea what was going on down below at that moment. What you did remember next was the anarchy after the sharp pop-pop-popping sound began.

The first gunshot, aimed at Real herself, set off the expected chain reaction in the crowd.

Pushing, shoving. The very definition of chaos.

Bodies shoving themselves against you, everyone in FLIGHT mode and making a break for the exits. There was no way to fight it.

Everyone was trying to leave, trying desperately to blend in with the crowd, like they could meld their bodies together and become indestructible. Or at least unnoticeable. The goal was now to not make yourself an easy target to the shooters but there were so many men up there with so few places for you to hide.

You were fish in a barrel.

Glass shattered somewhere above you and you snapped your head backwards, trying to keep an eye on the gunmen while doing your best to remain safe, two seemingly impossible tasks. The large windows at the top of the venue had broken, shards of glass raining down like glittering meteors, but you couldn’t see how it had shattered. Maybe a bullet had ricocheted through the window. Why not, what else could make the night more terrifying?

“Get out of the way!” A man pushed you out of his path, causing you to lose your balance and stagger down a few steps before you completely fell down when you were pushed again by someone else. You caught yourself on your hands, rising up to a kneeling position.

People surrounded you on all sides, yet no one stopped to help you get back up. No one even looked at you on the floor, trying to find a way to stand in the claustrophobic conditions that refused to give way. Whenever you grabbed someone to try and pull yourself up, they yanked their hand back like your touch was a bullet from above.

A horrifying thought crossed your mind, then: what if you didn’t even die due to a gunshot but instead suffocated under the weight of all these bodies?

Somehow, through all of the chaos, you still held your stupid notebook, like it was your lifeline, like it would stop a bullet from piercing through your skin. But what good would a stack of paper do in a human crush? You didn’t know much about them so you had no idea if the crowd was too dense yet. Either way, you didn’t want to find out.

You’ve heard that in an emergency situation your body goes into autopilot, the primal instincts in your brain bypassing any logic and control you had, taking over to take you where you needed to go.

You didn’t feel that here. You felt completely in control and with that you felt completely powerless. You couldn’t pierce through the crowd of panicked people (an emergency pro-tip no one followed: stay calm) and you couldn’t squeeze yourself away from the crowd either (another emergency pro-tip: don’t make yourself an easy target).

You were stuck, kneeling on the floor as the crowd moved around you like a fluid. Eyes sliding closed, you figured that it wouldn’t be that bad to just stay here, right? Maybe you should just drown in the crowd, get it over with. You could allow your breath to be taken away from you, not worry about being shot anymore. Just keep your eyes closed and-

Two hands hooked under your armpits, yanking you back to your feet. Your eyes snapped open and you tried to look around you but whoever deemed you worthy of helping was gone, whisked away by the crowd.

You’d been on the floor for maybe a maximum of thirty seconds but it had seemed like an eternity and now you were back in the sea, moving where you were moved, jostling where you were jostled.

You were able to advance only a few steps when a low groaning reverberated through the Garden.

“Shit, it’s coming down!” A panicked voice hissed from behind you, and you spun around to look back up to the giant display screens. Which were now hanging on by a few (figurative) threads. But it was teetering, hanging at an angle that was certainly not meant to be. A few bodies were hanging from the catwalk, but distantly you could see the silhouette of someone… fighting.

The last thing you really remembered from the night was finally escaping the Garden, bursting through the doors and gasping in the chilly night air, gulping down breaths of it. Emergency vehicles lined the streets around the Garden, their swiveling lights casting blue and red shadows over the street. Blockades had been set up on every intersection around the Garden, crowds of worried citizens and shouting reporters huddled behind them. Police were shouting back, trying to maintain some sense of order.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. Swiping past the few Breaking News notifications and campus alerts about the situation you’d just escaped were more texts from your group chat.

Gotham Girlies Marie: Yeah, this riddle shit is too much right now. Marie: *riddle Marie: *RIDDLER damn it Bridgit: omg Bridgit: there’s a shooting down at the garden rn Lisa: No way (Lisa tagged you in a text.) Lisa: Wait aren’t you down there right now?!

You closed the notifications after that, the blaise way Bridgit had delivered the news rubbing you the wrong way. Yeah, it had been a weird week, crime wise. At least Lisa remembered you’d been there in the first place. But you could respond in a few minutes, once you’d started to feel more like yourself again. They could handle that if their reaction to the news was equivalent to seeing a minor celebrity from a distance.

You managed to slip away from the Garden without being seen by any of the medics called to the scene. From later pictures of the exterior, you saw that Batman had helped some of the victims, but he mostly helped with hauling the perpetrators out. And they were all dressed eerily similar.

The news the next day confirmed what you had already suspected. The Riddler had planned the attack in Gotham Square Garden. Not just that, but he’d planned to flood the city- and he almost did it. But the Batman had stopped it, and had kept the bombs from blowing up the sea-wall and drowning Gotham.

The image your mind supplied you of water rushing through the streets, overpowering everything in its wake, chilled you to your core.

You had your first nightmare that night- you had none the night it had actually happened. Your body was floating in murky water, the flood pressing against you on all sides, a constant overwhelming pressure. You tried to breathe but the water filled your lungs instead and now you couldn’t even scream out for help.

And you were drowning

By the time the EMTs had cleared you to be taken home and the police were done with whatever needed to be done, it was well into the next morning, the sun hidden behind the clouds as it rose, starting to color the sky a dull gray. Snow had started to accumulate on the ground but it hadn’t even lasted until the morning without being trodden on, the once white sheet mussed and colored gray from dirt. A snow plow had clearly already been through here.

The cop driving looked at you through the rearview mirror, his warm brown eyes concerned.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about what happened? It would be helpful-”

“You got the guys, right?” You asked, your voice like sandpaper after using it all night. But it wasn’t like you had anything new to say, just answering the same questions that every victim is asked. Are you okay? Are you sure? Do you need anything? Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital? How many fingers am I holding up?

The only person who seemed content to allow you to sit in silence unless it was absolutely necessary for you to talk was the Batman. His cape had remained wrapped around you, heavy and comforter over your shoulders, until twenty minutes ago, when he took his leave. You’d been the one to hand it back to him, not allowing him to use it as an excuse to come find you to get it back later. He accepted it wordlessly, giving you over to the Police Commissioner, whose face you recognized from the news. He’d mentioned earlier that the cop would give you a ride home once everything was taken care of. He’d assured you, in his own way, that the Commissioner could be trusted.

And you trusted his judgment, at least.

“Yeah, but-”

“Then I’m good. I just want to get home and go to sleep.” The cop sighed, watching you as you leaned against the window, closing your eyes at the sensation of the cold glass on your skin. It would numb your forehead, soon, but for now it was blissful.

“How do you know the Batman?”

“I don’t, not really. He’s just… found his way into my life a few times.” That’s one way of putting it.

“I understand that feeling.” He smiled. You returned it, though your smile was strained.

Small talk filled the rest of your ride, and you found that the police officer wasn’t bad company, all things considered. You certainly could’ve been put with a much more awkward conversation partner. But he laughed at the right moments, seemed morose at others. He mentioned that his daughter was a few years younger than you herself, just started college, which explained it to you.

“Maybe you should meet her sometime, you’d probably like her.��

“Yeah, maybe.” You didn’t have the heart to tell him it most likely wouldn’t happen, but the offer was nice anyway.

Morning traffic hadn’t begun to congest the streets yet (even though it was Sunday, it still got pretty bad in certain parts of the city) and the Commissioner pulled up in front of your building within twenty minutes. You thanked him quietly before climbing out, wincing as you put weight on your sore feet again.

You were definitely throwing these shoes in the back of your closet later.

With a final wave behind you, you made your way to the front door, knowing that he was going to watch and make sure you entered the building safely. Maybe after this he would head to wherever the Bat Signal was to share information with Batman. Or maybe he was just going home to his wife and daughter after a long night dealing with Gotham City.

An average Saturday night in the city, really.

If there was one thing you were satisfied with in your building, it was the heating system. Walking through the front door was like walking into a warm hug, the yellow lights of the hallway adding to the illusion of stepping into a toaster oven. But a nice toaster oven. One that evenly toasted both sides of the bread.

As you walked up the stairs, you pulled your phone out (which had been kicked under a table during the scuffle of the night, miraculously intact with the exception of a single crack along the top of the screen but that was fine, as long as it worked), finding Dr. Crane’s contact information and hitting the CALL button before you could chicken out and tell yourself you’d do it later. By the time it finished ringing and told you to leave a message, you were at your door.

You tried calling again as you unlocked your apartment. Your door stuck, because of course it did, but with a single slam of your body against the wood it broke free, swinging open into your dim apartment.

Putting the phone to your cheek, you shrugged your heels off and sighed in relief when your bare feet touched the hardwood floor. How you couldn’t wait to climb into bed. The phone rang and rang until the automated response played again, telling you to leave a message. Maybe he’s asleep.

Sighing, you waited for the message tone to begin speaking. Although, the moment it chimed you froze, all of the things you had been planning to say leaving your mind. It took you a solid second to regain your thoughts, blinking into the darkness as you began speaking.

“Hey, it’s me. I just got home, I’m all good! Just a few scrapes and bruises and maybe some trauma but it’s okay. Um, I just thought I’d call because it felt really weird to say over text! Okay, text me or call when you get this. I wanna make sure you got home safe too… Okay, bye!”

Did you always say okay this much?

As you left the message to Dr. Crane, you stripped yourself of your dress and underwear, moving through your apartment and not caring about the trail of clothes you left all the way to the bathroom. Turning the shower all the way to the hottest setting, you faced the mirror to take care of your hair. You yanked every single one of the pins out, letting them clatter onto the floor when they missed the sink. You could pick them up later, when you didn’t feel like your skin was covered in grime or like your head was going to fall off your head from exhaustion.

That’s a job for future-you to worry about. Present-you just wanted to be blissfully clean, not worrying about anything else except when to rinse your hair.

You gently clambered into the shower, your muscles aching and ready to rest. But you needed to clean the stink of the night off.

You’d scrub your skin raw if you had to.

The water burned your skin but you sighed in relief anyway, the scalding water bringing blood back to your veins. You could worry about how hot it was and how long the shower you were planning to take was going to be when your water bill arrived.

And then… you started to crave another form of relief. Like it hadn’t gone away but had instead been hibernating through the last few hours, your body started to remember Dr. Crane’s touch, the way he had whispered into your ear. How close he had been to reaching your core, how he knew that you weren’t very experienced and how that didn’t seem to deter him in his pursuit.

If you hadn’t heard those footsteps, if you hadn't freaked out and pushed him away, how far would it have gone until you stopped it? Would you have let him go all the way, there in that hallway?

You ducked your head back under the spray of water, rubbing your hands over your face and groaning, the tell tale twinge of a headache forming in your temple.

Standing in the shower, you couldn’t fathom any realistic way that your heavy petting session with Dr. Crane could’ve escalated into… if not sex, at least an orgasm for one of you. No, all of the scenarios you thought about while washing your body were too fake, too scripted. Like something out of a bad pornographic video.

Oh, yes, Dr. Crane, please- ah- fuck me so hard right here in this hallway where anyone can see us! Let them enjoy the show, ahh.

Yeah, no.

You rolled your eyes at yourself for even thinking that up. It was decidedly un-sexy. Dr. Crane was not the kind of man to elicit such a response. Even in the brief touches he’d bestowed upon you, he was an all-consuming presence, a hurricane that causes you to take shelter within yourself instead of crying out for others to enjoy the sight of your drowning.

Besides, you had been way too drunk to properly consent to anything. And he was, at least, a good enough man to not take advantage of your obvious inebriated state, right? Even though he had said that he was taking advantage of you, that was just tongue in cheek, right? A callback to your conversation in the cafe?

(But, thinking back on the moment now that you were sober, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care either way. Sure, in a few years maybe you’d say this was all a mistake but everyone needs to have a messy relationship once in their life. Yours might just end up being with your psychology professor. Super messy. You’re in your twenties, you’re allowed to be reckless!)

(But, in the same vein, you did have a desire for it to not be a messy relationship at all. For him to sweep you away, invite you to a world you’d never seen before and not leave you stranded. Not marriage, of course, but a happy moment in your life that you could look back on with fondness when you’re older. The kind of reckless relationship that defines your life for a season and becomes nothing more than a hazy memory of joy later on.)

You shut the shower off, yanking the curtains back a bit too forcefully, staring at your bathroom as you dried off. The tiles on the floor and walls could use a deep clean, their grout dark with grime. You’d done your best to cover a portion of the floor with a brightly colored rug, fluffy under your feet as you stepped out of the shower. The steam had clouded the mirror, a steamy haze lingering in the air until you opened the door and it spilled out into the rest of your apartment. It wasn’t like the building didn’t have water damage already, a few droplets from the steam wouldn’t hurt it.

You crossed the small hall right into your bedroom, immediately shutting the door behind you and dropping the towel. You didn’t even bother finding any pajamas, simply throwing on the nearest oversized t-shirt that was laying on the floor. Digging through your underwear drawer (you really needed to do laundry) you found a pair you rarely wore and pulled it over your legs.

And then you promptly collapsed onto your bed, climbing under your duvet cover. You could worry about putting your dirty clothes into your overflowing hamper tomorrow (maybe you should also do laundry tomorrow). Right now, what you wanted to do was sleep.

But as you closed your eyes, taking a few deep breaths while trying to calm your mind down, you found that sleep was evading you. Despite the exhaustion in your bones, you could not lull yourself into sleep.

Turning onto your other side, you squeezed your eyes shut, shifting your legs around to find the position that your body would decide was good enough to sleep in.

Nothing.

No arrangement of your limbs was good enough.

Sighing, you fell onto your back, staring up at the street light’s shadows on the ceiling.

“And what do you think about, when you touch yourself?” Dr. Crane’s voice rang in your ears, the lingering echoes of his touch burning on your skin.

Slowly, like you couldn’t decide if you actually wanted to yet, your hand moved down your body, skimming over your t-shirt and the skin underneath it, toying with the hem of your shirt before lifting it. You didn’t want to bother with anything fancy, your body simply craving release after being wound up and left unsatisfied earlier. You slipped into your underwear, your fingers parting your lower lips with ease.

You began circling your clit gently with your fingers at first, the sensitive nerves responding like they were set on fire by your touch. You couldn’t remember the last time you had taken time to relieve yourself in this way, your schedule was so busy with TA’ing and your normal work that sometimes it was all you could do to remember to eat and drink water.

Naturally, as it often did when you did take the time to indulge yourself, your mind stumbled its way back to Dr. Crane.

His eyes, following you as you moved through a room with you only becoming aware of it when you catch him in the act.

His fingers, brushing against your skin last night and lingering there, pulling you towards him with a single touch like he’d sunk a hook into your flesh.

His lips, parted in surprise and quirking in a smile, moving against your skin and whispering in your ear.

But most of all, you think about how he was able to get straight to the crux of your problems, solving them with ease and guiding you to the correct answer with a gentle but firm and (sometimes) intimidating hand. How he saw right through you, even before you knew you were being untruthful.

And how, for some reason, he wanted you, as carnally as you wanted him.

You didn’t even feel guilty anymore about touching yourself to thoughts of Dr. Crane. You couldn’t, not after he touched you like that, when he’d talked to you like that.

Pretty, he’d called you, his voice growling against your neck.

You thought back to his breath fanning over your skin, his touch dragging itself to your underwear and resting there, hovering over the place you needed him the most.

Slowly, you began to construct a continuation of the scene, choppy scenes flitting through your mind, disconnected from one another as you chased your climax. But these weren’t like the ones you had conjured earlier, the ones that were out of some harlequin novel or X-rated film they showed in the back of those sketchy shops you passed by on the way home from work.

His fingers slipped under the hem of your dress, pressing against your skin. Touching your clit with no barriers between his skin and the bundle of nerves, his movements in your mind mimicking the movements you made now in real life with your eyes closed.

Now you were pressed against the wall with your legs wrapped around his hips as he thrust into you. His cock was filling you completely even though you didn’t like to imagine what it looked like (that, evidently, was a step too far for your fantasy, too much of a breach of his privacy).

And then his mouth was open against your own, a sloppy kiss that resembled breathing against one another more than actually kissing. With a few last thrusts, he finished inside of you, your combined spend spilling out of you when he finally pulled out.

It was this final image that pushed you over the edge, your mouth open in a silent gasp as you came.

Legs shaking you pulled your hand out of your underwear, the exhaustion you had pushed away to deal with your other needs returning with a vengeance. You kicked the offending panties off and tossed them across the room, adding them to the pile of clothes strewn about your apartment.

You’re not sure exactly when you fell asleep (as is the nature of falling asleep) but when you woke up halfway through the next afternoon, you immediately checked your phone, your thoughts only on Dr. Crane.

Nothing.

No calls, not even a text acknowledging that he’d received your voicemail. In fact, your only notification was an automated text from your bank informing you that your balance was low.

Sighing, you threw your phone down onto the duvet, watching as the fabric poofed up and deflated. Much like you at this moment.

Through the rest of your day, you continued checking your phone even though you had your sound on and it certainly would’ve chimed loud enough for you to hear if someone called or texted you. For the few brief moments where you were switching your laundry around or putting it away, you worried constantly that he was going to try to call while you were temporarily away from your phone. You even took to obsessively checking your email, because maybe Dr. Crane forgot you had his phone number.

The first explanation you thought of for his radio silence was that he was dead and no one thought to inform you. It would make sense, you were just a TA and no one else knew about your moment in the hallway. But it also seemed highly unlikely. You’re certain that you would’ve found out somehow and it would be very unfair of the world for Dr. Crane to die so suddenly when he’d just reciprocated your attraction.

The second explanation was that he, too, had become embroiled in a hostage situation. But you definitely would’ve heard about that.

So, the next most likely explanation was that he was simply… not calling you. Or texting. Not even a simple “ok” to let you know that he was alive and not a captive. But then the question turned from what happened into why was he not calling?

And for that, there were only two options and both sucked. Either he forgot about you or he was… ignoring you. But unless he had been struck by a sudden, unexplained bout of amnesia, it wasn’t likely he had forgotten about you.

You looked back down at your phone, frowning when no texts popped up from the man your thoughts had been on all day. He couldn’t be ignoring you, right? Even though it was the most plausible option, you refused to consider it.

It would be much easier to think he was dead.

Unlike the last time you’d been attacked, you had little to no physical evidence of it on your body. Which was good, because before, you’d hated how long it had taken everyone- professors, peers, coworkers, strangers- to get used to your swollen face and stop asking stupid questions. This time, you were able to walk through the crowds and keep your head low, feeling everyone’s eyes gloss over you like you were just another street sign to ignore.

Were you nervous to get to Psychology of Fear? Absolutely. But you had a job to do and couldn’t just call out when you felt like it.

Especially not when you had at least six texts in a row that Dr. Crane had left unresponded. And he, of course, didn’t have read receipts on so you didn’t even know if he’d seen your messages at all. Maybe you’d been texting out into a void the entire weekend, maybe his number had changed itself without your permission.

Gotham was cold, overcast clouds drizzling onto the snow that had accumulated over the past day. Winter in Gotham was generally miserable, the snow always lingering too long after it had turned from pristine white to dusty gray before turning into a slush that swirled on the streets and froze over at night into black ice.

Your winter boots (not cute at all but simply a necessity) were heavy on your feet and you couldn’t help but picture Frankenstein lumbering about in his own clunky shoes. (Of course, you’d prefer to compare yourself to the creature in the book but no. You were the avocado green bolt monster today.) Stomping down the front steps of your building, you wrapped your scarf tighter around your neck, tucking it further into your coat.

Your earphones were snug in your ears and you couldn’t even be bothered to leave one out in the name of safety. The anxiety stuffing itself into your throat needed to be relieved through loud music and fast walking.

Lucky for you, you were really into the playlist you’d made yesterday while trying to ignore your texting app. It was angry but you’re not sure if you were more angry at Dr. Crane or Gotham itself when you picked the songs.

Probably both.

The song that started playing was an old familiar favorite, a steady beat in the background to keep pace with.

You crossed into campus, sighing as you passed a tour group. How many of them were from the city? The university was lucky enough to have a few renowned programs (not yours, of course). They were the ones that would lead to careers at Wayne Enterprises, the ones funded by Bruce Wayne and his company. All the other programs had to constantly gasp for breath as they drowned in the sea of low budgets.

You wondered how often the tour guides had to answer questions about the crime rate from out-of-towners. Or maybe about the Batman.

You turned your music up even louder, until you’re sure your eardrums would throb in pain later.

Every step closer to the Psychology building built up a new layer of anxiety. It was bottled up in your chest and you’d never missed your old friends as much as you did in that moment. You needed someone to reassure you that everything would be fine but you had no one. Your mom, maybe, but anytime you brought up your mental health she asked you to return home. Dr. Crane, you supposed, was the closest person you had to talk about.

But you couldn’t exactly tell him about it when he was the reason you were so anxious.

Stepping back into the classroom after the whirlwind of a weekend was like landing back on Earth after a year in space.

You settled in for the class, pulling out the book Dr. Crane had assigned for that week’s reading. You’d read it back in late December, but your notes were thorough and you didn't exactly need to contribute to the discussion. In fact, your job was to just note down who was contributing and how much to make sure they got credit for the discussion.

You thumbed through it, skimming over a few of the passages that Dr. Crane had mentioned he would point out, ignoring the students as they streamed into the classroom. You still had an earphone in one ear, but you were only really listening for one thing: Dr. Crane’s entrance into the room, his confident yet hurried gait, the slight hush that would sweep over the room when he entered.

And when you heard it, you snapped your head up to watch him, yanking the earphone out of your ear. Ready for him to give you his usual nod and slight smile of greeting before getting his lecture prepared, ready for him to prove to you that everything was normal.

But he didn’t spare you a glance. Didn’t even look your way.

He walked in, started up his presentation, and began his lecture without even acknowledging your presence in the room. Did anyone else notice this? Probably not. The other students could barely spare you the time of day.

He left almost as soon as class was done, not even staying behind to speak to the few students who were sticking behind, leaving you to handle it on your own. Which you did, perhaps a bit more distracted than you normally would be, answering questions in a haze.

At least you knew Dr. Crane was alive.

But now you had devastating confirmation that he was, in fact, ignoring you.

You left the building dazed, taking slow steps down the street as you tried to wrap your mind around the revelation.

You desperately wanted to follow him, find where he went, and beg him to talk to you, tell you why he hadn’t responded, why he didn’t look your way.

A fat raindrop splattered on your head, icy cold and shocking you back into your body.

As you walked to your next class, you didn’t bother putting your hood up. Who cared, right? Maybe if you were wet enough, you could stand outside of Dr. Crane’s office and garner some sympathy, just so he would speak to you.

At the same time, your cheeks were hot with embarrassment. He’d felt you up at a formal event and probably would’ve gone farther but you’d chickened out and ran away. You couldn’t help but think he was right to just drop you after that. You had shown you had no use to him.

Wait, no. That’s stupid. If that’s what he wanted from you, you were better off without him. If he didn’t want to respect your boundaries, he would have to deal with it himself.

It didn’t make the cold shoulder sting any less, though.

That night, you sit staring outside at your balcony, hoping that someone would come save you from this torture.

No one did.

part II

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts day 21

From this prompt list. I set a goal of writing at least 150 words per day in 2024, which sounds pretty pathetic but if you take into account the fact that I haven’t written any fiction since 2019 it felt like a feasible target. And then somehow it turned into “I’m going to write a single interconnected story utilizing all of these prompts” which ?????, what can I say, I am incredibly foolish and there's no limit to my capacity for self-deceit. Anyway, it's fully drafted now, topped out at about 88k, and I'll be unlocking tumblr posts as I edit.

read from the beginning here

Days 19 & 20 here

***

24. “Say please.”

***

Tim fell back into bed as soon as he returned to the Nest and didn't wake up for thirteen hours, which might have been a new record for him. He was conscious of being annoyed before he even opened his eyes, but couldn't remember why until he had poured his second cup of coffee down his throat and his brain finally kicked into gear.

Oh right. Damian had been an asshole. What a surprise.

It wasn't until his fourth cup of coffee, drunk in between bites as he shoveled scrambled eggs into his mouth and typed on his laptop with his free hand, that he recalled his parting verbal shot and dropped his fork on his plate with a clatter.

"Oh, fuck," he blurted, and the horror in his voice echoed through the room.

He ran to his room to look at his phone for the first time since he'd fallen asleep, and found a chain of unread messages from Stephanie.

timothy jackson drake, what the hell did you DO

why is the baby bat down here punching the bag like captain america pining for peggy

I'm not joking he looks gray

like he's sick or something

except for where he's bright red

and he came storming back down here after you two talked so I’m guessing it was something you said

whatever it was I think it was pretty bad

seriously I know my therapist keeps telling me I have to stop triangulating but u might need to do something or debriefs are gonna be a shitshow

unless it was all his fault. idk I’m not ur mom

Tim swallowed, and swallowed again as he scrolled down the screen. Fuck. Fuuuuck. Damian might have started it, but Tim had brought the equivalent of a nuclear weapon to a knife fight. Shit. How tired had he been?

He texted back, i fucked up so bad steph and sent it before he could think better of it.

She responded fast, so she might have been waiting for his reply. No shit? well now u have to do ur least fave thing and I'm guessing it's gonna be pretty rough

Tim frowned. whats my least fave thing

She sent him a string of emoji in various states of sadness followed by, apologize u poor man. I know it burns to be part of the human race and have to admit it out loud

Tim sighed, but she wasn't done yet. A cascade of rapid-fire follow-ups popped down his screen.

and again I can't emphasize enough how little I give a shit if u and dami are fighting except that it makes everything awkward forever

and bruce gets all broody about it which is even more awkward

so pull ur head out of ur ass and pop his free too while you're at it because I was just waiting for him to throw some kind of fat joke at me

and I don't want to kill a young man

Tim snorted. say please

The three dots pulsed for a very long time, and he grinned. Finally, she replied, please, help me, red robin, ur my only hoe

lies i know ur friends

tim srsly pls just make things not suck

He sighed. mission accepted

good. I know he can be such an asshole but he rly did look like he was gonna puke

Tim dropped the phone on his mattress and buried his face in his hands, groaning. Great. Apology it was. Assuming Damian would even accept.

Days twenty-two and twenty-three here

[panfluidme]

Purple's Second Chance

Master Post, Chapter One

CHAPTER TWO: IMPORTANT MEETING

"I was out doing some scouting when I stumbled across someone I never thought we'd see again." He spun the chair around. "Ta-da!"

Mikey gasped and floated toward him. He grabbed Donnie's face. "Donnie?"

The pre-teen, almost thirteen year old, boy came up and climbed onto the table. "Uncle Tello? I thought you were dead."

"What?" Donnie's eyes widened as he swatted Mikey's hand away.

"Two years ago," April cut in, "you got really, really sick from a Kraang infection and eventually died."

"The Kraang?"

Leo nodded. "When you and I were fifteen, the Foot Clan got a key that led to a realm where an alien race known as the Kraang were trapped. They freed the Kraang which have started invading the planet. We've been at war with them ever since," he explained calmly.

"Where's Raph and Papa?"

"Both dead. As is Cassandra."

"Oh."

"Do you know how you got here?" Mikey asked as he floated away from Donnie.

"I was in the store, getting stuff we needed to fix the lair after Shredder's attack. Then I fell through an orange portal."

"How long ago was the attack?"

"Three months ago."

April nodded with a hum. "So that would be three months before the Kraang came."

Casey sat next to Donnie and looked him up and down. This Donnie was so much shorter than his Uncle Tello. It was the same man, yet someone so different. He had been so close to Doctor Donatello (only Casey was allowed to call him anything else that wasn't Donnie, which his brothers and April were the only ones allowed to call him Donnie) and had taken it just as hard as Leo, Mikey, April, and Mister Draxum had.

Now, he had a second chance with his Uncle Tello. But now he didn't even remember him. He wasn't almost ten feet tall, instead just over five.

"Uncle Tello?"

"Sorry, kid. I don't know who you are."

"I'm Casey," Casey's voice sounded desperate. "Your nephew. You'd call me Jr or-or C-Double J."

"Not ringing a bell."

"But-but, I'm your nephew!"

"Case, remember, he's not the Donnie you know. Mikey, you and Draxum start figuring out ways to get him home. He shouldn't be living through this yet."

Mikey nodded. "Draxum should be returning from his mission with Todd soon. I'll consult the scrolls and see if our ancestors have any clues."

"Casey and I will give Don-Tron a tour of the new base. April, make sure no one bothers us. I don't wanna overwhelm him."

"Got it."

Chapter Three

[casspurrjoybell-20]

FOOLS - Chapter 5 - Part 1

BOOK ONE: The 'Fools Fall in Love' Trilogy

*Warning - Adult Content*

Samuel Moretti

Jason and Noah were still outside and it had been fifteen minutes since I walked back into the house.

How long did it take them to get high?

Why did they feel the need to get high?

Didn't their middle school make them go through the D.A.R.E program?

I couldn't stop thinking about it and it wasn't even a big deal... was it?

So when Cater got up and said something about going to the bathroom, I waited before he's out of sight and blurted out...

"Noah smokes weed," to my sister and Emily.

The two girls looked up from their phones.

"Yeah, Noah and Jason have been smoking weed since they were like thirteen," Emily told me.

"Jeez," Haven muttered.

Thirteen? Five years of smoking pot... I mean I guess weed isn't that bad, right?

But, at thirteen?

I heard it's a gateway drug.

"Yeah but don't let Kaitlyn know. She caught Noah smoking once and totally flipped out. She has to do a drug test for volleyball and she thought Noah cumming inside her would leave a trace of it."

Emily chuckled.

"She's such an idiot but I love her."

Emily must've seen a sour look on my face, which I hadn't realized I was making until she said...

"Oh, right. No talk of hetero sex," she joked.

Haven laughed.

It wasn't the 'hetero' sex that bothered me but whom the sex was between.

Then Haven switched the subject before I could rebuttal Emily's statement.

"Who's Zachary Price?" my sister asked with a tone that read she had a crush on him.

"Zach Price? Why?" Emily questioned.

"He's in a few classes of mine. He sits next to me in math and he just followed me on Instagram," she told us with a smile.

"Oh, girl don't do it," Emily said.

"Zach Price is a fuck boy. He'll ruin your life."

"But he's so..." Haven started, still smiling down at her cell-phone.

I looked over her shoulder and she was scrolling through his Instagram.

She pulled up a picture and turned the phone more toward me.

My eyebrows raised, damn, he was definitely hot.

He was clearly on the football team 'which I almost rolled my eyes at because Haven always dated football players'.

He looked tall and buff... too buff.

I bet he went to the gym every day and took pictures of himself to post on his Stories and drank too much protein shakes.

He had blonde hair that was styled like every typical F-boy high schooler, really Haven?

Zach was hot but basic but then again, my type was brunettes, not blondes.

Noah was my type if I was being honest, which was why I already had a shallow crush on him.

Just for his looks but his personality sucked.

"Attractive? Charming? Flirtatious?" Emily filled in the blank for Haven.

"Yeah, that's how he gets ya'. Last year, Chelsea Flenderson got sucked into his charm and she was head over heels for him. Obsessed with him and he treated her like an object. Like dirt and then he cheated on her. Don't follow him back. He'll DM you. That's how it starts."

But Haven had already followed him.

My sister had always been one to fall for the 'bad boys'.

"Good luck," I spook to only my sister as I patted her shoulder.

"What's starting?" Carter asked, walking back into the T.V. room and then finally Jason and Noah came in, laughing about something that I wasn't too sure was actually humorous given their intoxicated state.

"Zach Price took an interest in Haven," Emily said with a smirk.

All three guys made a disgusted sound and cringed.

"Not an interest," Haven defended herself.

"He followed her on Instagram," I added despite my sister.

Haven whacked me with a decorative pillow making me squeal.

"Yeah. Don't trust, Zach. He's an ass," Carter claims, taking a seat on the La-Z-Boy.

Jason had walked off in the direction of the restroom and then, the last thing I thought would happen, happened.

Noah sat right next to me, I could smell his sweet cologne again.

"And that's Carter calling Zach an ass, that's saying something," Noah jested.

I laughed then stilled when Noah leaned back into the couch and placed his arm on top of the couch cushion.

BEHIND MY HEAD.

'Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh. What was he doing?'

I mean technically, his arm wasn't around my shoulder but it might as well have been.

Didn't he know I was a gay, hormonal teenager who EASILY CRUSHES ON HOT GUYS?

'Chill out Sam, jeez-louise. Who cares?'

Noah was just a very attractive guy, get over it.

He got mad way too quick making me confused... like a mysterious, brooding, sexy... oh my goodness stop.

Noah was not brooding, he was just rude and mean and he was... standing up?

I watched as Noah got up from the couch.

I must've missed the previous conversation due to my... distracting thoughts because Noah was saying something like...

"I can go get it."

And because I was an idiot, I said...

"Do you need help?"

'Was there eagerness in my tone? There might've been but we didn't need to talk about that,' I thought, nervously.

I didn't even know what Noah was going to get but nonetheless and quite surprisingly, Noah shrugged.

I took that as a tolerable 'sure' and stood up.

Haven gave me a teasing, knowing look, so I glared at her before following Noah.

Which, I found out, downstairs was where we were headed.

I walked behind him as he opened a door, flipped on a light and began stepping down the  wooden stairs.

No, I did not notice the waistband of Noah's briefs sticking out from his black sweatpants 'Pair of Thieves was the brand' and I 'definitely' did not watch his butt the whole time he descended the stairs.

I exhaled for what felt like the first time when I got to the finale step.

The basement was huge but empty, save for a few objects.

There was an old T.V. stationed on an equally old and equally dusty entertainment center.

I was positive the television didn't work.

There was also a treadmill that was dust free, Emily must've used it often and two bins near the back.

Which looked to be where Noah was headed.

It was odd because Emily's house was so full and put together upstairs, yet downstairs seemed abandoned.

"So, um, what are we getting done here again?" I asked, rubbing my arms.

It was chilly down there.

Noah removed the lid off of the top bin and squatted down to search through it.

"Did you not hear all of us agree on watching a horror movie?"

"Horror?" I questioned, hoping my tone didn't convey the nervousness I felt.

I hated horror movies.

Noah paused at digging through the bin of, what looked like, DVD's.

He turned to face me, gave me a quizzical, yet teasing look.

"Don't you like horror movies?"

'Heck no.'

"Yeah. I like horror movies," I lied nonchalantly, with a nod.

Noah made a 'pfft' sound and went back to searching for movies.

"You're a shit liar."

He must've found the agreed-upon movie because he replaced the lid back over the bin with a DVD in hand.

Back at his full height 'a good four or so inches taller than me' Noah looked at me with bored eyes and said...

"You didn't need to come down here with me."

Definitely not for just a stupid DVD.

Which, by the way, who owned DVD's anymore?

But, then I had to think of a reason as to why I'd offer to help in the first place... and as Noah said, I was a terrible liar.

"I... didn't know if you wanted to bring the whole bin upstairs."

Noah stepped closer to me, his black t-shirt clang to him in all the right places.

"This is your first time here, how would you have known Emily has bins of horror movies in her basement?"

Checkmate.

"So, why'd you come down here?"

My nervous laugh came through again.

"Ah hahaha, um good point. I actually wanted to... talk to you, um, privately about... uhhh where you get your..."

'Gosh dang it, Sam, you always embarrass yourself.'

Noah raised his eyebrows, willing me to continue with my knowing lie but he also looked a little amused.

"Your..."

I glanced down at his hips then immediately back up to his eyes,

"Sweatpants. They look really comfortable."

Noah just stared at me for a moment then laughed.

"You're such a dumbass, let's go," and he walked past me and was already on the stairs.

"Meat-head. I know," he finished my sentence with a dry tone but he glanced at me with a smirk, before continuing upstairs.

Okay, maybe Noah's personality didn't completely suck.

********

Yeah, I definitely hated horror movies.

Especially The Conjuring, which was the lovely movie everyone choose.

Jason had the brilliant idea of turning off all of the lights, so it was pitch black in the house besides the film glowing through the sixty inch T.V. screen.

I was huddled on the middle seat of the couch with my legs brought up, so I could burry my face in my knees at any given spooky moment.

Haven was to the left of me and get this, Noah was on my right.

A large blanket 'that I had requested' was laying over all three of us.

Emily was curled up in Jason's arms 'I found out they were friends with benefits but they seemed to like each other more than they were letting on'.

And Carter was on the La-Z-Boy, shouting at the character on the screen to 'tuck your feet in, dumb fuck-head.'

She didn't tuck her feet under the blanket 'which is what Carter warned her to do' and an unknown force yanked her leg.

I yelped and buried my head in my knees.

'Oh gosh. I'm not sleeping tonight,' I thought but then my mind went blank.

Noah's hand was on the small of my back, comfortingly.

I turned my head a smidge just enough for my eye to catch him.

He wasn't looking at me.

Just watching the movie like his hand being on my back was the most mundane notion.

That night, when everyone left Emily's and I was in my own bed, I had a hard time falling asleep but not because of some horror movie but because a certain brown eyed boy was stuck in my mind.

[ashes-onthewind]

ah. this is embarrassing ;;

so when i was but a wee laddie with nary an entertainment but google images, safe mode youtube, and a notepad, I had three hobbies. I would scroll through tumblr post screenshots on images, watch PM Seymour (&other similar YouTubers), and write fanfic. So ever since I was about thirteen, fourteen, I've dreamt of having an ao3 account and a tumblr account. but i was not allowed to have either, as both were ""social media"" and ""adult content"" and therefore i was not allowed to have them, nor was i brave enough to even ask.

And then Christmas rolled around, all the shit happened, and i suddenly had unbridled access to the world. So of course my first actions were Google and Discord, then after that tumblr, ao3, and.. well, nothing. That's all I have. I do have twitter and instagram and facebook accounts, but I never use them.

I really started Using Tumblr™ around April I think? maybe May. But I didn't boop more than maybe two people, which I'm incredibly sad about.

@miles-tails-prowers-crotch @azurecake16

i wanna start a tag game >:3

why did you decide to join tumblr?

i’ll start!!^^

i wanted to join so i could post x reader fics cause fanfiction.net would get upsetti spaghetti when i tried to post them there :D

tagging: @hotelcaliforniaenbydancer @nothingtoseehere1-2-3 @rosalinastan1 @ayunakatsukiwolfhashira @pinkwisteria @kimetsu-chan @shycroissanti @slayfics @night-mince10000000000000000001 @zenitsustherapist @frostburn-shoto @floofgryph @aceofstars0 @pulim-v @muichirolover14 @muichirosboba @kiyokatokito