#if you are suffering I wish you the best and promise you will survive this

[whoblewboobear]

If you’re in crisis or having suicidal thoughts, giving a call or text to 988 can be life changing. If you just need to talk, they’re a great resource as well. Your life is worth living, it will get better. Our minds can be cruel, but just know you are loved and you are appreciated.

We may have lost someone in our little community. Worst case, I hope they rest easy. But I do hope they survived.

If anyone was affected by this, if you need to speak to someone or take a step back, take care of yourself and do what’s best for you.

[screeching-bunny]

Yandere! Game Show Host Hcs

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

A/N: I saw this request and was like this is such a cool request but what if we made him an evil game show host. Like one that would put contestants in deadly scenarios.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host who kidnaps all of the contestants and forces them to play this twisted game that he created for money. Don’t worry though, he rigged the entire game to be in your favor. It was discreet enough for the viewers not to really care but apparent enough for you to notice the favoritism. Did you care? Hell no!! As long as you were getting paid you and survived this whole ordeal could give a rats ass about what happened next. Even when you do manage to get certain questions wrong, he will just brush it off and pretend that it was just a warm up question. The contestants are definitely seething whenever they see this happening.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host is a psychopath by nature. In each round, he presents the contestants with morally ambiguous dilemmas, enticing them with promises of grand rewards while dangling the threat of dire consequences for failure. Whether it's forcing them to choose between betraying a fellow contestant or facing a treacherous obstacle, he revels in their anguish, relishing the psychological torment he inflicts.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host is doing everything in his power to make sure that you win the game. He can’t have his poor baby feeling upset if they fail to win the grand prize. He would absolutely give out the most insane questions that practically no one knows the answer to. The punishment for getting a few questions wrong is mutilation of certain body parts and if you get too many questions wrong then you’ll end up being sent to your death. While everyone is basically being tortured in their punishments, he’d never allow that to happen to you. At most he’d probably just flick your forehead and call it a day. I imagine that most of the people watching the show are people who paid for the contestants to be kidnapped and be brought there against their wishes. Everyone who is put onto his show is a horrible person, including yourself, and have done something to be warranted to be there.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host bends all the rules of the game for you, providing subtle hints or covert assistance to ensure your safety. Although he has a strong desire to see others in pain and suffering, his love for you is stronger. At first justifies these actions as preserving the "entertainment value" of the show, but deep down, he's driven by an inexplicable desire to protect you.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host would baby you during your time there. He’d make a fuss whenever you tried to do anything remotely dangerous or touch some blood. I could totally see him using a baby voice to try to convince you to stop what you're doing. He has no shame, and everyone is looking at him with utter disbelief/confusion on their faces.

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Oh No! Please don’t go over there! You might slip from all the blood on the ground! Come here let me carry you across.”

Viewers: “…”

The contestant with their leg cut off: “…”

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host thrives on the power he wields over his contestants, reveling in their suffering as they navigate his challenges. As the game progresses, his demeanor grows more twisted, enjoying the contestants' internal conflicts and emotional turmoil. He taunts them with mocking laughter, reveling in their discomfort and manipulating their decisions to heighten the drama. God forbid that you manage to develop a crush on someone while you are there. He’d absolutely lose it and do everything in his power to crush them. You best believe that he’s going to keep them alive for as long as possible and give them the worst punishments known to man.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host has cameras everywhere and when it's time for the contestants to rest for the night he’s going to be observing you. He’s a loser who doesn’t really know how to act around you without becoming a mess. In his spare time, he likes to just watch you through the cameras and imagine himself right next to you. He’s absolutely delulu about your feelings towards him and believes that you feel the same way. Even when you do manage to win this fucked up game, he’s not letting you go. There’s no way that he’s letting you leave after you managed to steal his heart. After this is all over, he’s taking you to his house and locking you there.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host holds pride in knowing how many people are at the mercy of his hand. Has a minor God complex and has this skewed mindset about how everyone else is beneath him besides you. Believes that you were made just for him and that you're his one true love. Would rather die than give you up or allow anyone to “take you away from him”. He’s like an annoying roach and almost impossible to get rid of. He’s making sure to stay with you for as long as possible.

—

Yandere! Game Show Host strides onto the stage with a wicked gaze, his piercing gaze fixed on the contestants. His voice, a chilling blend of charm and malice, booms through the speakers as he welcomes the participants with a mocking flourish. Thom who were strapped onto a table with heavy objects over their heads.

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Alright contestant number one, what is the mass of the Sun divided by Planck's constant in nanometers.

Contestant One: “HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT!?!?!”

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Unfortunately, that's not the correct answer. You’ll now be facing the consequences.” In a matter of seconds, the heavy object comes flying down with alarming speed. Upon impact, it mercilessly crushes against their skull, unleashing an overwhelming and unimaginable force that distorts bone and flesh. Yandere! Game Show Host then makes his way towards you and begins to speak.

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Alright, it's your turn now. No pressure, I know you’ll do great just take your time. Okay what’s 1 + 1?”

You: “2.”

Yandere! Game Show Host: "Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever done before, unafraid to reference or not reference, put it in a blender, shit on it, vomit on it, eat it, give birth to it."

Other Contestants: “What the hell!?!? How is this fair!?!!

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 25 (Human!Alastor x Married!Reader)

CW: Angst, blood, manipulation, Alastor being a murder baby AN: I hope my fellow Americans survived their Thanksgiving with minimal family fighting and all those who didn't celebrate around the world had a great Thursday. Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi

Alastor parked his car at the edge of the park, under the shade of a large tree. It was late and the odds of being seen were minimal. Even so, it was better safe than sorry. The heavy canopy blocked much of the light from the streetlights, few though there were. 

He waited for a few moments, head resting against the back of the seat, eyes looking up and out the windshield. In the distance, the roof of your house peeked up from the treeline, whispering dark promises. For a few moments longer, he sat in the holy silence where late night and early morning danced together. 

The slam of the car door was loud, shattering the fragile silence of the night as he stepped away from the still car. He walked slowly to the small pond as he ran a hand through his hair. Curls spiraled out of the locks, tangled around his fingers as he pulled hairs free with the nervous action. Sweat and time were winning the battle against the effort he had put into pulling the strands straight that morning. 

It was alright. You seemed to like the curls. 

Kneeling at the edge of the pond, he splashed water on his face, scrubbing at the dried blood on his hands and neck blindly. He knew he would miss spots. There wasn’t much he could do about his shirt, but that was alright, too. It would all be alright, soon. 

He just wanted to see you. That was the thought that ran through his mind as he walked casually through the park. That’s all he needed, he told himself as he pushed branches and bushes out of his way. From a distance was fine, he just needed to see that you were alright. 

He could put you down, leave you alone as long as he knew you were alright. He just needed to know you were alright. 

Bark bit into his hands as he lifted his weight from the ground. Climbing the apple tree in the dark while drunk wasn’t as easy as he expected. At times, he nearly fell to the ground. Perhaps he deserved to fall, land on a root wrong, and break his back. 

He would be caught then. You would know what he was, what he really was. The world would know. Perhaps that would only be right, a fitting punishment for the pain you had suffered because of him. 

Eventually, he made it up to that thick horizontal branch he thought of as his. Each breath came out in a huff, labored from the exertion on top of the alcohol. Resting his head against the tree trunk, Alastor ignored the way his hair snagged and was pulled by the rough surface as he took long, slow breaths. 

The house was dark, quiet. Its occupants were asleep, as he should be. He had work tomorrow. Today? Yes, today at this point. There was time still. He could make it home and take a nap. He’d be rough, but he could make it through the night. 

Alastor closed his eyes as he listened to the sounds of the night, resting his eyes as he lounged perched above the rabbit hole stashed with letters he knew you were reading but not responding to. 

His eyes closed with a flutter as he thought of you. Such a sweet soul you were, pulling away from him to protect him. Didn’t you know? It was his job to protect you. That’s what a man does for the woman he loves. 

Love. That was the thought that floated through his rye soaked mind as a light sleep overtook him. 

You poured a mug of coffee for Laurence, setting it on the table where he read the newspaper. It was a rare morning when he didn’t leave early. He was grumpy and the quality of the coffee didn’t help his mood, but you did your best to focus on the way the sun peeked between the clouds and the chirping of the birds. 

“How can you fuck up something as easy as coffee,” he grumbled, and you wished he would have just went to the cafe on his way to the office. 

For a moment, Alastor fluttered across your mind and you wondered if he would think you fucked up the coffee. It was a thought you shot down with a pang of pain. It didn’t matter what Alastor would have thought, Alastor was not your husband.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, turning from the sink and starting to walk back to the table. “I’ll make you another one.” 

You made it halfway across the small kitchen before Laurence picked up the mug and, after a moment of thought, launched the steaming contents at you. Most of the coffee splashed across your front, the apron and dress under helping protect you from the scalding liquid, but pain still cut through nerves where it splashed up onto your neck.

“Laurence!?” you cried out, darting backward and crashing into the sink. 

Your husband spit venomous words at you, lost to the pounding in your ears. He disregarded all the renewed effort you had put into being a good wife for him. 

It wasn’t fair. Tears fell from your eyes as you watched him stand, waiting to see if he would leave or come after you with something far worse than his verbal assault. 

You didn’t know tired eyes watched from the distance. His first real sight of you while he blinked sleep from his mind was that of coffee splashing onto you. While Laurence walked out of the room and you crumpled to the ground in a puddle of coffee, you didn’t know how close Alastor came to climbing from the tree and ending a life in broad daylight.

Instead, as you stood, he watched you grab towels to mop up the liquid. As the car in front of your house roared to life, he slipped down from the tree. His body was stiff, and he was rather thirsty, but that was alright. He was glad to have sobered up, at least mostly sobered up.

He had gotten to see you. That was supposed to be enough. He wanted it to be enough. He needed it to be enough. He had gotten to see you. 

Alastor watched as you disappeared out of the kitchen while he stalked through the back garden. He saw the light in your bedroom illuminate the room still cast in morning shadows. Would you look out the window, Alastor wondered as Laurence’s car drove away? Would you see him? 

You didn’t. He was fairly sure of that as he stepped onto the back porch. The knob failed to turn under his hand, though he hadn’t even been aware of reaching for it. Locked, that was alright.

He was wrong, he had thought he needed to see you but that was alright. He could be wrong, sometimes. He was a humble man. What he actually needed was to hear your voice. 

Alastor smiled as he pulled the pins from his sock. The door was old and the lock simple. He made quick work of opening the door, hardly having to give the task much thought at all. 

It was a good thing you locked the door. There was a serial killer on the run.

Closing the door behind him, he locked it before making his way through the kitchen and into the living room. Laurence had left the front door unlocked, Alastor was dismayed to find. With a flick of his fingers, he locked that door as well.

Laurence was going to get you hurt if he didn’t take better care of you. It was bad enough that he was hurting you himself but to be careless with your safety on top of it? Disgusting. Sloppy. 

The stairs creaked as you walked down them. Alastor moved to the wall, hoping to be out of sight as you turned into the kitchen. You wore a burgundy house dress, and he liked how it looked on you. Much better than the bright sunny yellow you had been wearing before the coffee incident. 

His eyes cut down to the dark bruise above your elbow, on display thanks to the short sleeves of the dress. Surely you’d throw a shawl over your arms if someone knocked on the door to hide it. In the safety of your home, though, you had no need. 

As you stepped into the kitchen, he could see the angry red splotches on your neck, left by the hot coffee. Oh, how he longed to soothe the inflamed skin with soft kisses. 

He followed you, leaning in the doorway as he watched you grab the towels from the ground, sniffling. Were you crying because of the pig’s actions? Didn’t you know it wouldn’t make a difference, shedding tears for him? 

“He’s not worth crying over.” Alastor said, transatlantic accent coloring his words, brightening them with the day. 

You screamed, whipping around with wide eyes to face him. 

“Alastor!” You clutched your hands to your chest, “Mr. Moreau?!” 

Your eyes ran over him, taking in the feral sight. His hair, something wild between curly and straight, was a mess atop his head. Red stained his shirt, smeared his skin and dotted his face. 

“Never that name for you,” he said as he closed the small distance between you.

“What happened to you?” Before you thought it through, you rushed up to him, acting on instinct and impulse, actions doing nothing to reinforce the distance you had insisted on in your last letter. 

Fingers ran over his face, rough stubble scratching the pads before your fingers ghosted down his neck. Your eyes run over bloody sleeves and splotches on his shirt. 

“I went hunting.” He answered honestly, “I’m alright.” 

“Hunting?” you stepped back, coming back to yourself. “It’s early morning yet? And why are you in my house?” 

“I came in the door.” His head cocked to the side. “I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking about you. Went to Mimzy’s and had some drinks. Then went hunting.” 

“At night?!” You stepped back, and he took a step forward as he laughed, that easy free sound you had dreamed about too often since you wrote your last letter. “While drunk?” 

“Probably not my best judgement call,” Alastor admitted. “But it turned out alright.” 

“Did it, now?” You scolded, heart beating in your chest as Alastor continued to advance on you. “You’re covered in blood.” 

“I wanted to see you,” Alastor said.

“You need to leave.” Your back hit the wall. “My husband will be back for lunch.” 

“I needed to see you.” Alastor’s accent wavered, in and out as he looked at you with those warm brown eyes, pleading with you. “Needed to know what I did wrong.” 

“You didn’t- Alastor.” You closed your eyes and let out a breath. “Mr. Moreau,” He groaned at the sound of his surname on your lips. He never wanted to hear you say it until it was yours, as it should be. You continued talking just the same. “Our relationship was improper. I am a married woman. If we continued, it would have ruined us both.” 

“Not Mr. Moreau.” Alastor pressed, his hands coming to rest on the wall on either side of your shoulders. “Please, don’t. Don’t call me that. Don’t you love me?” 

“I do,” you said before you thought twice, pressing your hand against your lips as if you could somehow stuff the words back in. “Don’t you see? If we’re caught, everything you worked for is gone. I- It would be selfish for me to do that to you.”

“Then we don’t get caught. We hide,” Alastor said, elbows buckling as he fell closer to the wall, cutting the distance between you in half. “Ma cherie, I don’t need you to protect me. We are in love, are we not? The risk is worth anything, everything, for but even a moment in your presence.” 

“Alastor, I-” you noticed Laurence’s briefcase sitting by the table, heart thundering somehow louder in your ears. “Laurence is going to be back anytime now. He forgot his bag. You need to go.” 

Reaching up, you braced your hands on Alastor’s chest and attempted to shove him away. He moved less than an inch. When you couldn’t push him away, you stopped trying to, though you knew it was vital that you kept trying. Your hands lingered on his chest, feeling his heart pounding rapidly against his ribs. The rye he had been drinking still tinged his breath as it washed over you. 

“Don’t you love me?” Alastor’s voice was broken, naked.

“That’s why we can’t keep doing this.” Tears spilled down your cheeks. “I love you too much.” 

Outside the house, a car’s engine sounded in the distance. 

“It’s why we must.” Alastor challenged, noting the sound as your body tensed. “I will keep us safe.” 

“You can’t,” you pleaded, heart shattering in your chest. 

“I have so far.” Alastor pressed as the car drew closer. “If not for him. If not for your marriage vows, would you have picked me?” 

“I can’t go back in time.” 

“I’m not asking you to,” Alastor whispered. “If tomorrow you woke up and Laurence was nothing but a memory? Would you pick me? Want me?” 

The car pulled in front of your house, engine idling. “Alastor, he’s back. You need to go.”

“Not until you answer me,” Alastor whispered. “Would you pick me? Would you want me then? If the Shadow Butcher took Laurence tonight?” 

“Yes,” you whispered. “Yes, Alastor. Damnit, you need to go-” The car door opened and then slammed shut. 

“Then kiss me,” Alastor demanded, face hovering just over yours. No part of him touched you, yet you felt suffocated, wrapped up in him. 

“He’s coming.” You could hear Laurence’s footfalls outside on the walkway. It shouldn’t have been possible, but you swore you could. 

“I’m not leaving until you kiss me.” Alastor whispered, blood splattered face so close to yours. “You want me. You pick me. Then kiss me. Prove it. Show me. Please?” Alastor’s words came in a whispered rush, each statement coming faster and faster, naked words tripping and tumbling over one another. 

The doorknob rattled on the front door. Your eyes were wild as they darted away, trying to turn enough to see through walls. It felt like your executioner was getting ready to catch you. 

“Fuckin hell.” You swore you could hear Laurence outside as he tried the knob again. 

“Kiss me.” Alastor pleaded again. “Kiss me and I’ll go. Pick me. Don’t leave me. Please?” 

The keys rattled in Laurence’s hand, scraping against the lock as he tried the wrong key. You launched yourself forward, closing the small distance harshly. Lips against lips as an arm slid up his chest, wrapping around his neck. 

The coppery taste of blood and the stale taste of old rye flooded your senses as his lips parted in a gasp. His hands found your waist as he held you to him, gripping as they wrapped around you. He lifted you off your feet and walked backward as the lock clicked.

His tongue lapped at your lips before working into your mouth. He moaned into the kiss as his eyes fluttered, wanting to close and be in the moment, but needing to be aware of his surroundings. Large steps backward and to the side took them both almost to the back door as the hinges squeaked at the front of the house. 

“Don’t ignore me again?” Alastor whispered as he set you down, reaching behind him to unlock the back door. “Please?”

“Sugar,” Laurence called from the front door. “Where’s my bag?” 

“Alright,” you sighed, fear flooding you as Alastor opened the door. Laurence was in the living room now, coming closer still to the kitchen and back door. 

Alastor leaned down and placed one last kiss against your lips before stepping out the back door, pulling it shut behind him. As the door latched and you turned, Laurence stepped into the kitchen, calling your name. 

“I’m here,” you answered, putting your back to the door quickly. You didn’t dare look outside as you stepped into the kitchen for fear that you’d see Alastor making his great escape. 

“Where were you?” Laurence asked, as he picked up the forgotten bag. “Why didn’t you answer?” 

“I was just checking the weather,” you lied, “I hope to get sheets washed and hung to dry early.” 

Laurence looked at you for moments that stretched on as you tried to will yourself to relax. “Why are you flushed?” 

“The coffee was hot,” you said. “My skin’s still heated from the spill.” 

Outside the house, back resting against the wall, Alastor sat. His head was just under the window. Through the glass, he could hear everything. Carefully, he twisted and peeked up, watching as Laurence turned his back on the window. That was his chance, and he dared not waste it. 

Long legs swiftly carried him in a direct line from the house to the apple tree. He ran, glancing over his shoulder frequently, fearing he would lock eyes with Laurence. The back of the blond head and then an empty kitchen was all he saw as he rounded behind the tree. 

He waited there, chest heaving in gasping breaths. Exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he waited to move until he heard the car roar to life again. Sliding down the tree, he turned and dug for the notebook and pen.

He needed to get home, run a bath and sleep, but first, he wanted to add one more note to the stack. He hoped you’d read it, that you were not just telling him what he needed to hear to save yourself. 

Thinking back to the way you kissed him, he didn’t think that was the case. You kissed him as if you needed this as much as he did. Everything would get back on track, Alastor was sure of it as he walked through the narrow forest, humming. 

Yes, things were going to go back to how they had been. He would keep spending time with you and growing this little flame between you. When Alastor got the chance, he would take Laurence back to his home and they would have a nice long talk before Alastor ended his filthy life. 

Oh, how the thought filled him with almost as much joy as your kiss had. 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Alastor, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

Next?

[aychama]

L: I told you to leave me alone

R: I know Sir, but I'm your advisor and I (unfortunately) have to supervise you too.

Raymond sighed as he read the papers in his hands while following Leshy.

L: Do you think I need your supervision? I was doing just fine before you arrived. I'll continue to do so. Leave

R: I can't. We still need to go over a lot of things, we're far behind schedule to discuss real matters which is urgent, I need you to sign the agreement of imported goods from Anchor Deep and the people in the neglected villages are revo-

L: Fine! How many!?

R: Pardon?

L: How many papers, Raymond?

Leshy turned to him with a momentarily anger. To him, Raymond was simply, yapping.

R: Uh, about... 1, 2, 3...

He began counting, sounds of the paper coming to Leshy's ear.

R: 86 papers, sir.

L: Well good luck to you with that. Just copy my signature.

R: Wait, me? Sir I can't just decide on the matters of the whole kingdom!

L: Aren't you my "advisor"? That's your thing, to decide.

R: Yes, I give advice! I don't rule over a kingdom!

L: Too bad so damn sad, I don't feel like listening you talk about dumb problems I won't be paying attention to anyway.

Leshy chuckled a bit and walked towards his work room. Raymond followed right behind, a bit panicked by the king's nonchalant decision. Leshy closed the door behind him, Raymond nearly making it inside.

R: You can't just ignore it! I promise it won't take long... Don't you care about your people? They are suffering! They are doing their best but barely surviving with what you let them have! Not only that, you've added taxes when I was gone!

L: My people are doing fine. You're worrying too much for something so lame, Ray. If I'm really that shitty of a king, go on. Fill my "so important" papers. And I thought you were smart enough to think that.

Raymond rubbed his temples after setting the papers aside. He took a deep breath. Leshy just sat one of the comfortable chairs and leaned back.

R: (God, I prefer hell over trying to convince this man child to do anything) It won't be long before everything breaks down to chaos if you continue to neglect your duties, sir.

L: ...

R: Maybe the other crowns were right about you after all...

Leshy immediately got up and turned towards Raymond.

L: What did those old bastards say about me?

R: Just the usual sir.

He smiled. Good thing Leshy was, well, blind.

R: That you were too young and naive to understand how a kingdom works. The red crown even said he was surprised that you haven't got hunted by your people.

L: That... Grim faced cat! You know what!? I rule my kingdom just fine! I'm the best king out there! They wish they were me! I can rule their kingdoms along with mine if I wanted!

R: Yes sir. You could...

L: Read me the damn papers Raymond! I'm gonna finish these papers faster than any of those living corpses!

R: (Works every time)

___________________________

It was night time when they were able to finish all those papers. Raymond had lit a candle long time ago to read better and Leshy seemed to listen.

R: This is the last paper... It's, it's over

L: Finally, for fuck's sake...

The worm yawned and leaned back. Raymond put the papers in order and set aside, before leaning back like his King.

R: Sir your profanity.

L: Ray I'm too tired to care.

R: You're right... I should be too tired to ask.

L: What's the time?

R: The moon is up by a hand. It's too late.

L: You don't say.

The advisor yawned and drank a glass of water. The King on the other hand rubbed where his eyes should be. It was rare but, sometimes, his eyes would bleed again, his wounds so easy to tear open. The cat panicked at the sight, immediately his tiredness vanishing by worry that overtook.

R: You're bleeding!

L: Don't-

Leshy hissed at him when Raymond tried to touch his face so he backed away. Raymond looked at the blood with sadness for his King.

R: Does it... Does it still hurt? Does it hurt bad?

He asked with a shakey voice as he reached for Leshy's face again. Surprisingly, the short tempered king didn't pull back the second time. He leaned to the touch, to the feeling. Raymond's palm got bloodied as he wiped it.

L:Not anymore. Not like the way it used to...

R: It's good... I think. Is it just pitch black..?

L: People assume so. But no. My vision is my thoughts. I can see just, not in the way you'd expect

R: How so? How can you just- See?

The King chuckled at the advisor's weirded out question.

L: I already know what something looks like. I know colors, I know shapes, I know sounds, the materials, the feelings. And, if you know it like I do, it feels like your whole imagination is your sight.

R: That's... Not as bad as I thought

L: You think about going blind?

R: No, heh, of course not... I think about, how hard it must be for you.

L: You think about me? Now that just makes me shy~

R: My King-

Raymond gave a tired and short giggle as he blushed. Even though he hated his job, he didn't hate the worm necessarily.

L: What? Can I not be curious about why you think about me Ray?

R: With all due respect, that's not the point, sir. I work for you, it's natural that I worry for the one I'm working so close with.

L: And somehow I'm someone you must worry for? The levels you bring me down to.

R: You make it sound like everything is just fine! Is there really nothing bad about being blind?

L: There are bad sides of it of course

R: Like what?

Leshy smiled, putting his hands on top of Raymond's.

L: Knowing I'll never actually see you

AU8WUW8UQOAPAAJUDJDAAAAAAAASAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

HELLO???? THIS IS SO GOOD?!?!?!?!?! How dare you send me this awsome gift as an anon 😭😭😭 Thank you so much omg I didnt think such a simple drawing would inspire someone to write something like this!

THANK YOU ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[pralinesims]

Hii~ wanted to ask a fun question abt ur ocs :3

what roles would you assign them if they were in a horror movie?

Ooh, this is an interesting question, thank you sm for sending <3 Hmm, I thought a bit about it, feel like these ones would fit quite good:

The hero - Emilio Absolutely selfless and wants to help all. the. damn. time. But might become selfish when it comes to protecting people. Would probably die, maybe even early OR very late, and save everyone along the process, sacrificing himself for the greater good.

The survivor - Vale Regularly suffering and surviving the worst events, even without intending so, cause he hopes for his early demise. His ongoing survival torments him, as he wants everything to just be over. Also, everyone would cry if he DOES end up dying, despite it being his own wish.

The vigilante - Luca He'd always get his way, no matter what boundaries would be needed to cross. I'd see him going down in a big fight against the hero, while both of them would realize afterwards that the two of them were actually fighting for the very same thing.

Femme fatale - Sharon She'd make others bend at her will, with her (lingering) nefariousness at times probably getting overlooked because of her sheer seduction factor. Secretly maybe, even without realizing herself, the big villain behind everything and has so much more going on than what the others expected.

The nerd - Aaron Would surely figure out the mistery behind whatever is happening very fast. People would likely ignore him first, but as dangers get more dire, they'd start to listen to his analyses and advice, even if too late at times. Other people would probably be the ones to execute his plans.

Final girl - Gina She'd ABSOLUTELY have the skills to survive and make it to the end. And also, confront the villain to seek justice. Like, I don't doubt that for a second, she's capable of the very best. I can even see her turning bad people to the good side because of her sheer positivity factor.

The skeptic - Devyn I very much imagine so that he wouldn't care/wouldn't believe all the stuff going on. Probably either dying cause he realized too late, or would be the one overturning everything and be the main force in overcoming the crisis, I'd dare even call him Final boy? (him surviving everything along with Gina is also such a NICE scenario? I like.)

The harbinger - Kaia I can see her being the type of character who is already aware of everything since the very beginning, and got used to living with whatever is nearby pretty fast, possessing the right know-how, tricks and skills to perfect survival. Warns everyone who comes near the area, but of course nobody listens, and those fools wander into their impending doom...

The jester - and/or: betrayer - Maggie The game was rigged from the start (or other scenario, got lured to the bad side by nice promises and benefits). Would provide accidental solutions, or sometimes even intentionally steering people the wrong way. I can either see her surviving very long, or going down a fast, brutal way. Either way, she'd have very much fun, no matter what role she plays.

[meiiie]

Hi hope your doing great today :) maybe a dave lizewski x reader period comfort fic? got mine this week and it sucks and i need one with my best nerd <33

omg so sorry i just saw this now anon, but yes of course!

cramps&cuddles — dave lizewski

pairing: boyfriend!dave lizewski x fem!reader

words: 0.6K (I wish I could make this longer, but I've run out of other ideas…)

fluff, comfort :) not proofread

You and Dave decided to have a sleepover after school since your parents goes to a vacation for a day, but your period just had to start at the worst timing. When Dave arrives at your house and sees you what seems to be (physically dying) on your bed, he immediately knows something is wrong

During the past week he’s been too busy being ‘Kickass’, this has been one of the first time in a while since you’ve seen each other, so seeing this sight brings a sudden rush of guilt inside of him. “hey, hey, baby, are you okay?” Dave asks, dropping his school bag with panic, approaching the bed to check your forehead with the back of his hand. “ughhrdhrdhhrfh, no I think I’m dying- oh gosh” you groan while hugging your lower abdomen. “ohmygodohmygodohmygod don’t worry I’m here- what do you need? I- what’s happening. Your forehead isn’t so hot??? What could be the reaso-” while Dave was squirming around your room in hopes of finding something to help with your suffering, you cut him off saying “Dave, don’t stress out omg it’s just that time of the month”

Despite Dave being the huge nerd he is—/that time of the month/ is the only thing he hasn’t researched about. His mom passed away while he was young, so with the amount of knowledge he knows about women… you can tell he was internally panicking. You turn to look away, then when you glance back- POOF, he magically disappears. He’s SPEEDING to the nearest store while on his phone, waht do wpmen need for thst time odf monsht typed while bursting into the store. When safari finally loads, he buys the listed items:

Pads

Tampons

A compress

Your favorite snacks

“wait… pads with wings or without? you know what, I’ll just buy everything” is his mindset while also not thinking of his safety right now because how did bro almost get RAN OVER 4 times in a row. Despite his survival of multiple possible car crashes, he also goes to the nearest market to buy oranges because, according to a website, they help with cramps… or something? At this point, he doesn’t know if any of the items he has bought will help with anything, but he’s just praying you aren’t dead yet by the time he gets back to your house

It’s been roughly about 5-6 minutes, and he SWINGS YOUR DOOR OPEN with an almost burnt meal he made inside your kitchen with any ingredients he could find, hot chocolate, and a bowl of already peeled oranges. (a/n: I know that food combination sounds disgusting, but I’ve had all of that at once in one seating during my period, and it tasted amazing so what can I say) “here hun, I don’t know if any of these helps but how are you feeling so far?” he gently places the set of food on your bedside table, while also settling the hot compress on top of your stomach. He goes to cuddle beside you, caressing your back while handing you paper bags full of all the snacks you love.

“I think I’m feeling a lot better now, thank you so much for this” you say getting comfortable in his embrace, kissing around your forehead from time to time. He looks straight into your eyes, so deep, whispering apologetically “I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to spend this past week with you, I promise to make it up to you.” nuzzling his face into your neck, which makes you feel, warm, like your cramps have suddenly disappeared. “It's okay, please don’t worry too much about it, okay? Plus you’ve already made it up to me, thank you for being here, I mean it.” you both laughing at the sight of how any plastic bags he brought full of at least 15 different versions of pads and tampons. You both hold each other peacefully, while you both feel the breeze from your open window. 

“Can you hand me those oranges?”

[boushwrites]

LONG LOVE WRITING ♡

If opportunities were sold, I would have bought them all and spent them on our love, even if it cost me my soul. But she doesn’t want to—she no longer feels anything for me.

I, the resilient one who was never shaken by anything, was defeated by her words: "I don’t love you anymore," "You’ve become just another ordinary person to me."

Between believing those words and swallowing the bitterness of her lack of feelings toward me, I die and come back to life thousands of times each day, for months now. Truly, not metaphorically. After her words, something inside me died. Darkness managed to occupy my chest entirely, and since that day, I’ve been struggling, day after day, to keep some semblance of life within me.

I carry a heart overflowing with pure love for someone who has completely discarded my love, with a soul burning with longing for eyes that no longer wish to see me, for a body that no longer desires my embrace, for a soul that no longer feels at home with mine, for someone who no longer cares about me at all.

Yes, I made mistakes—we both did. We both exhausted each other to the brink of death. But months later, questions still gnaw at my mind:

How could a love like ours die? How could it not endure? How could it vanish, dissipate into nothing? I thought such a thing was impossible! How can a lover forget? How can a loyal heart not forgive? How can someone so deeply in love remain distant for so long?

I believed that true lovers always find their way back to one another, no matter the obstacles. And I know, with absolute certainty, that what we had was more real than anything else in this world.

Or was it fate? The same fate that led our small, innocent hands to create all this pain and destruction—just to separate us?

A reader of my words might think I’m foolish, pitiful, overly romantic, or exaggerating my admiration for her—or that all of this is nothing but a shot of madness. But I tried to do what she did, hoping I might survive, hoping I could stop loving her, that she would become ordinary, that I’d no longer care about her.

I summoned every painful word she said, every harm that transpired between us, every moment I cried and suffered, every night I spent weeping, every night I convinced myself that our separation was for the best, that I wasn’t meant for her.

I remembered every ache that gripped my chest, every anxiety attack, every shock, every bit of coldness, neglect, and indifference, all the repeated mistakes. I remembered the fiery jealousy that consumed me, and I blamed myself over and over—not just for my mistakes but even for my exhaustion and brokenness, for my inability to keep going, for my repeated fleeing, for how she pushed me, until I cried so much that my tears dried up.

I wiped them away, embraced myself, and showed mercy to my soul. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t love her anymore. I swore I wouldn’t love someone who didn’t see my love, who didn’t love me back. I promised I wouldn’t grieve the loss of someone who accepted my departure, who found peace in it, who saw a path in life without me.

But moments later, I found myself falling for her again like a fool. I melted into her love. I forgave all her wrongs, accepted everything about her, and overlooked every misstep.

If she asked for my eyes, I would have given them to her without hesitation, without expecting anything in return—just to see her eyes happy.

And so, I began praying for myself, praying to my Lord to take my soul before this ended love destroys it.

translated using chatgpt for laziness matters.

SB ♡

[sillypiratelife]

Falling for zosan and namivivi because I am a sucker for parallels and relationships that are not what people would expect of them.

For example, I prefer when Zoro and Sanji don't get together because they are sexually attracted to each other, but because there is literally no real reason forcing them together but they choose to be together either way.

Why do they fight? Why each other?

There's nothing about fate or blind love in there.

Loving Sanji is a decision for Zoro. He picks Sanji. He decides he wants to tease Sanji and fight with him and offer to Sanji those parts of himself that no one else has seen. Zoro loves deliberately, with all his being. He knows what he's getting into and he accepts it, a promise made to last forever. He did the same with Kuina and Luffy, so it doesn't make sense to me to have a version of Zoro that loves romantically 'cause there's no other option. Remember when he preferred to die over denying his ambitions? Or all the times he has sacrificed himself expecting nothing in return? Or the fact he is praised for following no one he doesn't want to and nothing but what pleases him?

And Sanji can only choose to love Zoro. It'd be a fight with his traumas and the persona he created to keep the hurt at bay, you know, "the romantic cook that loves and lusts for women". It wouldn't be fair or pretty either if Sanji was forced into it. I'm not saying he can't be sexually attracted to Zoro —and I must clarify, for me Zoro is fully on the asexual spectrum— but ultimately, I think that Sanji would never dive on it if not fully conscious about what it entails. Sanji has a lot of issues he must start working on before involving himself in anything romantic or sexual with a man. It's the guilt? The shame? The way he represses himself and denies himself happiness? The way he thinks he needs to fake an easygoing persona so that others wouldn't worry? The self-loathing? Zoro sacrifices himself because that's his duty and he knows himself and his wishes— he'd die to be the best swordman and he'd die for Luffy to be the pirate king and he'd die for his crew. He doesn't wish death, tho. Sanji? His self-sacrificing is born out of suffering and self-deprecation. Loving Zoro would be a choice, no doubt.

With Nami and Vivi, it's that the circumstances make them perfect for each other, just to later keep them apart.

Vivi and Nami fit together. It took Nami one single night and she knew she'd sacrifice anything— that they would sacrifice anything to help Vivi. Nami saw her own fear and loneliness and guilt and desperation reflected in the way Vivi made her lip bleed from her bite while the Igaram ship was on fire. They were "cursed" to survive. To fight and struggle and survive, because no one else could face Arlong or Crocodile. Little girls —kids, then teenagers— sailing to a world of crime where they got claimed by the organizations they hated the most, the one they wanted to tear down because they were hurting their home. Young attractive teen girls who turned their bodies into weapons to distract and surprise their enemies so they could have a chance to defeat them.

Girls who know what it's like to smile when you want to break down, what it's like to kneel out of frustration and scream and feel useless helpless.

The strawhat girls were to fucking hell as mere children and got out of there walking, okay?

What allowed the princess and the burglar to find companionship within the other were those things like the trauma of being the only one who could reclaim back their home or the fear of being alone against a situation bigger than themselves. Being honest, I'm not sure if they'd have clicked without it. In the end it's a bit funny, isn't it? Alabasta is the reason Vivi met the strawhats and the reason why she can't sail to go on adventures with them. In fulfilling the promise of saving Alabasta, Nami made it so that Vivi wouldn't be able to leave with them. Well, she could, but not really. Vivi is a good princess and she wouldn't abandon her people = her country.

Vivi suffered for being a rich princess, but saved herself + her people 'cause they underestimated how influential and powerful she could be. On the other hand, Nami suffered for being a poor no one first, then for being too important for Arlong to discard, yet they never expected that Nami would have so many people willing to fight for her.

Like a moth to flame, a girl reflected on water.

Vivi and Nami are an echo of each other, one that rings clear and true across the seas. For me, there could be no one else for them. Who else would get it? Who else could understand what they can't explain? What they've lived through? Who held Vivi and swore it'd be okay that night at Whiskey Peak? Who took care of Nami when she was at death's door with fever for days? All the moments become a giant picture with them at the center of it. There's no one else. It couldn't be.

[builtbybrokenbells]

Gold Dust Woman

Amidst a battle of silent pining over Sam Kiszka, y/n begins to believe her feelings are a bit misplaced after months of receiving nothing in return. A night of attempting to drink away his memory results in a messy hookup with the worst possible person. Now stuck in limbo with being in love with Sam, and in lust with his brother, she’s left to navigate her way out of the grave she’s dug for herself.

Read part two here

listen while reading: gold dust woman - fleetwood mac

Pairing: jake kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: SMUT18+, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), hookups, pet names, sort of angst?, embarrassing crushes, unrequited feelings, some feelings of guilt, drinking, swearing, partying, sorry if I miss any!!

howdy. new series on the way! here’s chapter one! slutty jake is my weakness, so here’s basically a whole chapter of him being a little shit disturber. and surprise surprise, i drew a little inspiration from my fav song, too 🫣 there’s a lot of fantastic work out for the forbidden twin lane, so I’m definitely a little nervous to post. also really trying hard to keep my stuff original! as always, enjoy, please be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!

~

Sam. Sam fucking Kiszka. The bane of your existence, but also the light of your life. Caught between hopelessly pining after him, and also wishing you’d never met him. You found yourself stuck in a never ending loop, constantly battling yourself and always refusing to give in to either side. It was relentless, exhausting, but exhilarating all the same. Always caught up in his minuscule movements, the small expressions that nobody else cared to look for, hanging on to every word as if it was necessary for survival. Whatever was so special about him, you weren’t sure. Even so, you couldn’t deny that you were wrapped around his finger, desperate for a hint of reciprocity. Desperate for the feeling of his hands on you, and the knowledge of what it was like to be wrapped around him. Unfortunately for you, it never came. You never spoke it aloud, never made it known that you felt such a way, because he never gave any idea that he looked at you as anything more than a friend. So, to avoid rejection, and to maintain the peace, you kept your mouth shut. Suffering in silence was better than disrupting the entire friend group.

So you sat, immersed in conversation with his best friend, caring little about the words exchanged, and more about what Sam found himself occupied with across the room. It was uncharacteristic for you, to be so uninterested in the person in front of you, but you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. He was addicting; fuelling you more than any amphetamine, more comforting than any opioid, and haunting you with no sign of easing his hold. And just like any other drug, he gave you nothing except an empty promise of lasting fulfillment. You wanted to rid yourself of him, never again speak his name or think of his face. At the same time, you never wanted him to go away. You wanted every aspect of your life to be laced with Sam’s being, just so you never had to fear losing him.

The liquor in your cup was achingly strong, pleading with you to ease off with each sip you took. Still, you continued, bargaining with yourself that the burn of the alcohol was more soothing than your relentless thoughts about Sam. Plus, it was a sure way to forget about him. “What’s on your mind?” The question almost produced a laugh from you. You looked to the speaker, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“Uh, nothing of importance.” You answered in the most truthful way possible. Your thoughts were not important; far from it, actually. It was an endless stream of ideas all running back to the same pool of topic. One that wasn’t worth speaking into existence, mostly because you were already certain it would never amount to anything beyond a hopeless daydream.

“Oh, come on, y/n.” Danny pried. “All of your thoughts are important. I think so, at least.” You gave him a chuckle, appreciating his kindness.

“You ever get the feeling that the universe put something in your life solely to make you suffer?” You posed the theory, finally looking to meet his eyes.

“I mean, yeah.” He nodded. “Karma is real, I believe in that stuff.”

“Yeah, me too, but that’s not really what I mean.” You eased back into the sofa, feeling the tingle of tipsiness start to spread throughout your limbs.

“What do you mean, then?” He took a long sip from his bottle of beer, making you turn up your nose in disgust. You had no idea how anyone enjoyed the stuff. Alcoholic bread water was not your choice of beverage, and you made sure the boys were aware of that. You hoped maybe they’d jump off the beer train and settle on a drink that actually tasted good, instead of pretending to enjoy the bottles of craft swamp water.

“I don’t think it’s necessarily karmic. Sometimes, people do as much good as they can, and still seem to find themselves in the middle of suffering.”

“So, bad luck?” He chuckled, trying to piece together your drunken ramblings.

“Sort of,” you shrugged. “It’s hard to explain.” You dismissed the topic, regretting bringing it up in the first place. Perhaps you were letting the alcohol lead the conversation, failing to understand that it would ultimately lead back to the boy you were trying to drown the memory of.

“I’ve got time.” He assured you. You reached for the bottle cap resting on the table, flicking it in the air with your thumb and catching it in your palm.

“I don’t think there’s enough time in the world for this, Danny Boy.” You sighed.

“Try, at least. Your drunk rambling is my favourite part of these parties.” You caught his eye, laughing at his admission.

“They tend to be quite comedic, don’t they?”

“Sometimes. Other times they’re pretty insightful, I think. Your alter ego may be a philosopher of sorts. You have a lot of wisdom up there.” He reached over, gently knocking against your skull with his knuckle, giving you a grin. You couldn’t help but return it, despite your despair. As much as Sam Kiszka plagued your ability to enjoy yourself, you found solace in Danny’s company. He was always a great listener, and consistently had a few good jokes up his sleeve begging to be told.

“You’re too kind to me, Daniel. It’s a trap, you know. Inflate my head a little too much, and it’s just chaos. You’ll never get rid of me.”

“I’m fine with that.” He drained the liquid from his bottle and reached into the cardboard box for another. You watched him as he placed the cap to the edge of the worn down wooden table. He brought his hand down on top of it, freeing the bottle effortlessly. “I enjoy your company.”

“Charming.” You hummed, the foam from the carbonated liquid fizzling out the top and spilling on to his hand. “Seems like you’ve made a mess.” You pointed out. He shook off the bubbles, watching them land with a splat against the concrete floor. He wiped his hand on his jeans, ridding himself of the dampness.

“So enlighten me, then.” He settled back into the lawn chair after he pulled it as close to the couch as possible. You pondered your choice of words, unsure of where to begin.

“Karma is effect from cause.” You started, eyeing your drink suspiciously. You leaned forward, grabbing the pint of vodka and placing your cup on the table. As you watched the crystal liquid flow, you let your heart decide when to cut it off. You topped it off with some more soda, returning your attention to your company. “Some things don’t really feel like that. When you do something terrible, you wait for something to come back and bite you in the ass, to cause you some of the turmoil you’ve given to others. At least, normal people feel that way. Some don’t, but that’s another story for another day.” He nodded in agreement. “Sometimes, things happen, or people show up, or whatever it be, and they completely change the way your world works. In this case, I mean in a bad way. You don’t feel like you’re deserving of it, and you don’t necessarily feel like it’s an issue with luck. They’re there for a reason, but it’s just a shitty one.”

“So a lesson.” He deducted. Your eyes shifted towards him, your head cocking to the side ever so slightly. Eventually, you gave a slow nod, appreciating his input.

“Yeah, a lesson. That’s a better word for it.” You guided your straw to your mouth, sucking gently and feeling the spread of warmth fill your chest as you swallowed.

“So what is your lesson, tonight?”

“Haven’t decided yet.” You sighed. “I guess I’m more concerned about the why, rather than the what.”

“Okay, that’s fine.” He agreed.

“Why do some people need lessons? I mean, we all have to learn, but why does it always have to be so disastrous to do it?”

“Guess it leaves a larger impact.” He theorized. “If the lesson doesn’t hurt, you’re less likely to remember it.” You murmured a sound of understanding, realizing he was right. Whatever lesson Sam was teaching you must have been incredibly important, because it hurt like a bitch.

“That’s why they invented alcohol, Danny. So people like us can use it to ignore any hurtful lessons. I’m nothing if not spiteful, even to the universe.” He chuckled, reaching over and tilting his bottle towards you. You knocked your glass against it lightly, a gesture of gratitude for his listening ears.

“So that’s what you want to do tonight? Drink away your lesson?” You nodded.

“For the time being. It’s alright, because it’ll still be trying to teach me in the morning.”You both fell back into a silence, watching the crowd flutter around the room. Your garage had become the scene for social butterflies. Current friends and those of the past always stopping by for a quick chat, a good drink, and enjoyable music. You didn’t mind hosting; it made your home a lot less lonely. For someone who chose to surround yourself with people, you felt that way quite often. Always someone to say hello to, but never anyone to share anything meaningful with.

For a twenty-something socialite, who cared more about a good time than anything else, you’d done quite well for yourself. You started off without much of a chance, born into poverty and destined to remain there. In retaliation, you fought the expectation tooth and nail. You started working the minute you could, and saved every dollar you earned as long as the situation permitted. As soon as you turned 18, you vowed never to look back at your hometown. Since then, you hadn’t. You went to school, got a degree, and continued to work until you collapsed. Then, you got up the next day and continued on. The relentless effort never stopped until your hands were on a set of house keys that you could call your own. Now, you worked on your own schedule as a well-renowned music producer and backpacked off artists success, as you liked to word it.

You would much prefer to be the person behind the glass, but as the world allowed it, you remained behind the scenes. It was certain money rather than blind luck, and you appreciated your security more than passion. It was easier that way, especially with nobody to fall back on. So, you settled for Friday night shows at local bars, just you and your acoustic guitar, and no hope of anybody remembering your name. The too-drunk regulars seemed to love your performances, but as you saw it, any drunk fool appreciated something they could dance or sing along to. The production part wasn’t all bad, of course. It gave you some real friends, which you’d never really had before. Danny, being one of them. Well, all of the boys, really, despite your complicated relationship with Sam.

You’d made plenty of friends through the industry, some lifelong and some temporary. It was a plus to your success, meaning you never had to be alone. If you knew anything about musicians, it was that they loved to party, and you had an ample amount of time and space to do so in. Your house was rarely ever unoccupied, but when it was, the silence was deafening. You’d allowed so much room in your life for company, that you were almost unsure what to do when you were alone. Danny and his brothers solved that problem for you quite easily, always inviting you for hangouts and showing up to your place when the opportunity arose. They never went too long without communicating, and spent even less time away from you. Despite your hesitancy, they had slowly grown into a part of your every day life. As much as you hated loneliness, you also hated vulnerability. Unfortunately for you, they had made it a mission to know you fully, and they were doing a damn good job at it. Although you were still reserved, they knew more about you than anyone else.

As much as you tried to complain, you were eternally grateful for the great connection with such fantastic people. Even though your feelings for Sam complicated the nature of the situation, you couldn’t deny that they were genuine, sincere people, and you were lucky to have them around. They made life more interesting, and curbed the fear of isolation. And, in addition, they were pretty fun drinking partners. “Still thinking about that lesson?” You turned to look at Danny again, finding his concern endearing.

“Not particularly.” You eased his worry. “There’s always a brighter side to the story.” You gave him a smile, one filled with genuineness.

“Do I happen to be the brighter side?” He gave you a look of exaggerated excitement.

“Yeah, whatever, don’t give yourself too much credit.” You laughed. Your attention was grabbed by Josh walking by, a bottle of tequila in his hand and a dopey smile on his lips. He brought it to his youngest brother, bringing the bottle to his mouth and prompting him to take a drink. “We’re next, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, can never really escape him, can you?” You shook your head, still focused on the interaction. Josh pulled the bottle away a bit prematurely, causing a bit of liquor to spill down the front of Sam. It glistened on his chin, dripping down onto the exposed part of his chest, shining in the low light. You swallowed hard, having to stop yourself from fixating on the completely innocent mishap. Still, you couldn’t help but stare at the illumination, wishing to have access to the rest of him, desperate to see more.

You didn’t have time to linger, because just as you expected, Josh plundered towards you both. He made his entrance by producing the alcohol in front of you both with a messy extension of his arm. The liquid sloshed, some catching in the neck and spraying from the top. “You’re wasting precious tequila, Josh. Stop throwing it around like that.” You scolded. He nudged his pit vipers to his forehead, letting you see his eyes for a moment. They were glazed over, only proving his drunken stupor even further.

“Me? Waste?” He challenged.

“Yes, you, wasting.” You replied. He let out a hum of disagreement, taking a step towards you.

“Open.” He ordered. You rolled your eyes, but obliged to the request. You let your lips fall open, tilting your head back to allow him access. He tipped the bottle gently, letting the liquor waterfall into your mouth. You swallowed, fighting back the grimace you so badly wanted to give. He smiled in triumph, quickly turning his focus to your counterpart. You wiped the stray liquid from your face with the back of your hand, unable to escape the smell of it. Danny let out a shudder after his shot, feeling similarly to you.

He didn’t hover long, his mission complete and leaving him ready to move on to his next target. “He’s hammered.” Danny noted.

“Usually is.” You chuckled. “It’s okay, the spare bedrooms are all yours.”

“I can try to get him home,” Danny looked over, worried about overstaying his welcome.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know you guys can always stay here.” You tried to brush the sentiment off, hoping your tone sounded more nonchalant rather than heartfelt. In truth, you loved the nights they stayed. It meant you didn’t have to wake up to an empty house. You scanned the room, forcing yourself to move past Sam when your eyes inevitably landed on him. He was chatting with a girl you weren’t familiar with. Although the parties were almost always held at your house, that didn’t mean you knew every face or name. Sometimes, friends brought their own friends, or partners, or coworkers. She was likely one of those, who took a keen interest in Sam.

You couldn’t blame her; he was gorgeous. If you had her confidence, you’d be up there with him, too, batting your eyelashes and ghosting touches over his arm with a sultry smile. Of course, that didn’t mean you had the ability to ignore the pain that stemmed from the sight. Your stomach twisted with every lingering smile and flirtatious gaze. You thought it ought of comical, you inviting him over and hoping he’d spend a second talking with you, but he always found himself immersed in another girl who was a bit more interesting than you.

You continued looking, locating Josh with ease. He hadn’t given up as the tequila tyrant, and was still forcing the awful liquid onto others. You were certain he only bought it because it sounded good in theory. Once he had enough of it, he wanted to get rid of it as fast as possible so he didn’t have to drink it anymore. As you searched, you realized you hadn’t seen the fourth boy who so often took solace in your company. You thought it was quite curious, unsure of where he could be. You decided it was best to stop being so concerned with the whereabouts of everyone else, and worry about your own well-being. You’d been drinking for a while, and still couldn’t seem to break out of the Kiszka chokehold. You decided your best course of action was to focus on having a good time, and maybe keep your mind occupied with someone else for the night.

“Beer pong?” You eyed Danny, hopeful for an enthusiastic response.

“Yeah, why not?” He said, making a move to stand. He held his hand out to you, helping you off the couch. As you stood, you realized you may have had more alcohol than you thought, finding your legs a bit wobbly and your head light. Danny kept his hand on you, picking up on it, too. “You alright?”

“Yeah, and you’re gonna get your ass kicked.” You said as a matter-of-fact. You both toddled towards the ping pong table, noticing that it had already been played on a few times that night. You took to one side and Danny went to the other, rearranging your cups in the correct order.

“Hey, I want to play, too!” A voice sounded from behind you. You looked back, noticing Josh making his way towards you.

“We need a fourth, then.” You informed him.

“I’ll get Jake!” Josh was normally loud, but with a single drop of liquor in his system, he always found himself stuck in a state of permanent yelling. It was something you had to grow used to. The adjustment period was not easy, mostly because every time he tried to speak to you, you thought he was yelling at you. After a few weeks and a lot of reassurance, you began to notice that he also spoke that way with everyone else. Now, things seemed too quiet if Josh wasn’t around to make a ruckus.

As if it were some sort of secret twin telepathy, within moments Josh returned with his brother. After not seeing him all night, Josh seemed to have the power to locate him as he wished. The two made their way over, Josh immediately joining Danny on his side of the table, leaving you with Jake. Not that you minded, but the unspoken assumption was a bit rude, you thought. “And where have you been, all night?” You asked Jake, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He asked, taking a stand next to you.

“Obviously, or I wouldn’t have asked.” You grabbed a ball out of a cup, shaking the water droplets off the plastic.

“Don’t be like that, now.” He smiled. You looked to the side, catching a quick glimpse of his face. The mystery of Jake was yet to be solved. He was quiet, always a bit more reserved than the rest, but hilarious in his silence. Most of his jokes were spoken through expression, and every phrase was well thought out and immaculately delivered. You were yet to break through his shell, and you were eager to see more of him; a need for connection beyond the surface, even.

But, even so, it was the same with you. You had mastered the illusion of connection without really having to share too much. It was a way of protecting yourself, even if it was a little fake. Despite that, the friendships you formed with the four boys were more real than any you’d ever had. Even if they barely knew you past the surface, it didn’t make the love you had for them any different. They knew more than any one else, and you were sure with time, you’d get comfortable enough to open up a bit more. “I’ll be nicer if you can help me win this.”

“What’s the reward?” He asked. You could feel his eyes burning holes into the back of your skull.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.” You replied, taking your first shot. The ball bounced off the rim of the solo cup, falling inwards and plopping into the water.

“Don’t get me excited.” You could hear the smirk in his words before he even stepped into your line of vision. He lifted his arm, tossing the ping pong ball with little care. You watched it land in the cup that yours had, unsure of how he lined up a shot like that without even trying. You looked towards him, finding he was already looking at you. “Better be something good, sweetheart.” A tingle ran down your spine at the pet name, never having heard such an endearing word from him.

You weren’t sure what it was. Maybe the vodka, or maybe how the light, even as dim as it was, seemed to cast a golden glow over his features. Or maybe it was his quiet tone and impactful words, or the scent of whiskey and sandalwood, paired with the faint lingering of a Cuban cigar that was heavenly enough to burn itself into your memory. Whatever it be, for the first time in the entire history of knowing him, Jake caught your attention in a way other than friendship. He was hot, and that little monster of a voice in your head was screaming it over and over again, not letting you forget it. The close proximity of his body to yours was driving you insane, leaving you curious as to what it would be like to reach out and touch him, just for a moment. The bottom two buttons of his shirt that were holding it together was not leaving much to the imagination, and you were quite thankful for it, tonight. Although, you did find it a bit limiting. A hidden desire arose, leaving you wanting to rip it from his body to expose the rest of him. Once it appeared, it didn’t seem to want to go away.

In your moment of weakness, the animalistic nature of your attraction posed a residual feeling of guilt, almost as if you were cheating on Sam. You were painfully aware that the feeling was ridiculous; the memory of Sam’s arm snaked around the unnamed girl quickly pushing its way to the forefront of your thoughts. Clearly, he had no interest in you, so why should you feel guilty over such a simple, natural feeling? It wasn’t as if you professed your love to Sam and immediately took to Jake within the same minute. Attraction was normal, human nature, and you felt no need to be shameful about of it. Both men were completely unaware of your affection, and it would be easy to navigate, specifically because of their ignorance. Silent pining and daydreaming about both of them was fine, you deduced, because you were confident in your ability to make sure they never found out. Besides, you were in love with Sam, and attracted to Jake. Two very different things, and neither would ever cause an issue as long as they remained unspoken.

So, you decided, if Jake was willing to initiate it, a night of harmless flirting wouldn’t matter. In the morning, you’d both move on and forget it ever happened.

It’s crazy how the human brain can justify a terrible decision when you want it bad enough.

“Your turn, angel.” Jake broke you from your internal brooding with a delicate hand on your back. For a moment, you thought you could live in the feeling of his touch forever. He handed you the spare ball with his free hand, the cool water on his fingertips offsetting the surging warmth of his skin. You took it, meticulously arranging yourself in the perfect place before throwing. Another splash of water signified the landing of the shot, causing a noise of triumph to sound from you. When you came down from your momentary excitement, you could still feel Jake’s palm resting on you. It was an intriguing sensation, imploring you to think further about the nature of the gesture. “Hidden talent?”

“Wouldn’t call it hidden. Maybe you just don’t know me as well as you thought.” You quipped. He elected not to respond, throwing his ball and landing it in another cup.

“If we win, you gonna let me see all the parts of you you’re keeping secret?” He said, leaning in provocatively close to your ear. You weren’t sure where his newly found fixation on you came from, but you weren’t complaining. Maybe the cloud of whiskey he enveloped himself in was calling the shots, pushing him to test his limits. Before now, you couldn’t recall a time where your conversations even toed the line of flirtation. Unless, you’d been embarrassingly oblivious to his advances, which you wouldn’t be fully surprised if that were the case. You were a professional at overlooking even the most obvious displays of interest, so much so that even the current situation had you second guessing his lingering touches and provactive statements. Plus, with the added distraction of your feelings for Sam, the idea of romance with another person never really crossed your mind.

“Depends on how bad you want to know about them.” You replied, the note of disregard for his statement seemed to spark a nerve in him, driving him a little bit crazy. He was nothing if not fond of a challenge. And in his eyes, you were more than worth the effort.

“Stop flirting and focus on the game!” Josh hollered, catching both of you off guard. As if you were two children being scolded by a parent, you both took an immediate step away from each other with a hint of a blush on your cheeks. With that, Josh threw a cannon of a shot and completely missed the table.

“You don’t even have any distractions, what’s your excuse for being shit?” Jake taunted, a laugh hidden in his jab.

“Have you looked at me, lately, Jake? I’m beautiful. I don’t have to be good at anything.” The comment rolled so slickly from his tongue, like he’d completely forgotten he was supposed to be joking and was speaking straight from the heart. Jake cocked his head to the side, trying to relate the two together and make some sense of his statement. You let out a little laugh, nodding your head in appreciation of his words. You couldn’t deny that all four boys were very attractive, even if you had a hard time seeing past Sam and his blinding beauty. “See, even she agrees.” Jakes eyes flicked towards you, inquisitive of your quick response.

“So what does that make me?” He asked you. You watched him, unsure of what he was hinting at. “If I’m good at the game, does that mean I’m not beautiful?” He clarified. You swallowed hard, the bluntness of his question hitting you with force. He gave a small smirk, one that radiated cockiness. He knew your answer without you even having to reply, but he was determined to hear the words.

“No, you… you are.” You assured him, feeling ridiculous for stumbling over your words.

“Glad you think so, sweetheart. You are, too.” He turned back towards the table, not lingering to watch the redness spread across your face, fully satisfied with your response. Josh caught your eye, giving you a wink that said more than any words he could speak. Even in his drunken state, he was painfully aware of his twin brothers intent. You looked to Danny for guidance, only to find him choking back a laugh and unwilling to hold your gaze.

‘Great’ you internally grumbled, mortified at the attention being on yours and Jake’s current situation. Whatever that was, exactly, was completely unknown to you. You were stuck somewhere between wanting to tell him to fuck off, and wanting to tear his clothes off and have your way with him right there. You had no idea when Jake became such an outlet for your closeted wants. No clue if he just suddenly became so attractive, or if he had been the whole time and you were just blind to it. Either way, every hint of cologne, sideways glance, every ghost of a touch, each laugh that fell from his lips, and every word he spoke was driving you crazy.

“Last shot, y/n. Make it count.” He hummed, taking a step back from the table. You have a curt nod, silently letting him know you would. You aimed, ensuring your arm was steady, and held your breath as you tossed the ball. It circled around the rim, leaving all of you on edge. After a few seconds, it rolled off to the side, sadly plummeting to the table and bouncing to the floor. You let out a long exhale, disappointed in the outcome. It was the only cup you’d missed so far. “S’okay,” Jake gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “I got it.” You took a step back, allowing him to take his turn.

Once again, with a lax stature and careless approach, he threw the ball and effortlessly landed it in the cup. A collective groan sounded from the opposite side of the table, both boys floored over the fact they lost. Instead of focusing on their bellyaching, your attention was completely stolen by Jake snaking his arm around you in celebration. You turned your head towards him, noticing nothing but the breathtaking beauty of his smiling face. He pulled you into his side, hand resting dangerously low on your back.

“Nice job,” you breathed, the warmth of his body distracting you from anything else in the room. He turned his head down to look at you, his face inches from yours.

“You, too.” You relaxed into his hold, playing into whatever game he’d started. You turned your body towards him, placing a kiss on his cheek. He wasn’t expecting the sudden change of pace, his fingers tightening against you. “Come and find me if you’re willing to share those secrets, angel.” He said, mouth practically on your ear. Before pulling away, he placed a small, innocent kiss to the side of your head where his lips were hovering, as if it balanced out the filthy invitation.

Before you could respond, he disappeared again, much like the entire scene was a figment of your imagination. The only reason that led you to believe it was real was the residual tingling he left on the spots he’d touched, and the prickle of goosebumps across your skin. That, and the growing feeling of arousal in the pit of your stomach. You looked back to the table, cheeks flushed and heart racing. You grabbed your drink, hoping to sip away the memory, painfully aware of how easy it would be to chase after him. How easy it would be to take him to bed, to give in to the temptation of feeling him on you, or in you, more so.

You bit down on the inside of your lip in a desperate attempt to satiate the sinful thoughts you were having about Jake. You knew you weren’t supposed to be feeling such things for him. Your blind, although misplaced, loyalty to Sam was screaming at you to stop. Still, there was a small, but loud, little devil that took permanent home in your head. It was ensuring you that one night wouldn’t be so bad, that the feeling of his hands, and his tongue, would help you to forget anything other than pleasure. You swallowed hard, forcing your imagination to stop fabricating such grand ideas, forgoing the straw on the drink and chugging the rest of it down.

“So, is that the lesson you’ve been so deep in thought about?” Danny asked, now presenting himself in front of you. The shock of his company cause you to inhale a bit of your drink, leaving you coughing and sputtering for a moment. He gave you a couple firm pats on the back, aiding you with the expulsion of the liquid from your lungs. Once you recovered from the moment of disarray, you looked to him, not being able to find a proper answer.

“Uh, not particularly.” You chuckled.

“So maybe this one’s an answer. Or an apology from the universe for all of the turmoil.” He grinned. It was so characteristically Danny to always have something positive to say. He was a little ray of sunshine, never getting on anyone’s bad side and always trying to keep the peace. Normally, you loved him for it. Now, with the presentation of his new idea, you wanted to strangle him for instilling such an thought in your head. You wished he would have called Jake out on his abnormal behaviour, or scolded you for playing with fire. Perhaps, you thought that deep down, he knew what you were struggling with all along, and this was his way of letting you down easy. But, you would have preferred him to say anything other than speak encouragement for the incredulous notion, even if it happened to be him telling you that Sam hated you. Any discouragement for that little devil in your head would have been helpful.

“Probably just another lesson, Danny Boy.” You sighed, making a move towards your bottle of alcohol. You poured yourself another drink, hoping the subject would drop off into another, less invasive one.

“Not everything has to be a lesson, y/n.” He scolded, but his tone was light. “You’re allowed to have fun, too, you know.”

“Seems like more of a headache to me.” You grumbled as you screwed the cap back on the glass bottle.

“Jake is quite delightful to be around, actually.” He insisted. Instead of responding, you continued to focus on your drink. He tapped his foot against the ground in an impatient manner, expecting a response.

“Headache, Dan.” You finally answered. “Can’t really go sleeping around with my only friends. Sounds messy, to me. Perfectly fine how things are. If he wants to flirt himself to death, he can be my guest. I’m sure tomorrow he’ll come to his senses.”

“Always such a negative Nancy.” He let out a disapproving tsk. “Balls in your court. I won’t push you. On another note, I am willing to hear all about those so called lessons you seem to dread.” He took his earlier seat in the lawn chair, relaxing into it. He grabbed another beer as he did so. “If you want to share, of course.”

“You’d love to know, wouldn’t you?” You smiled.

“Yeah, obviously.”

“Little gossip rag?” You teased. He let out a laugh.

“So that’s what I get for wanting to help out a friend?”

“Yep,” you popped the p at the end of the word, giving him a smile. As much as you disliked his persuasion in regards to Jake, he was still your best friend. You couldn’t find it within yourself to stay annoyed with him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go freshen up. Winning a game of beer pong really takes a lot out of a person.”

“Oh, okay, whatever.” He rolled his eyes. “We let you guys win.”

“Careful.” You hummed. “Nobody ever teach you that you shouldn’t lie?” He waved you off, dismissing you completely. You shuffled away from him, your giggle lasting until you were long gone from his company.

You disappeared through the side door of the garage, leading into the kitchen of your home. When you got inside, the first thing you noticed was a group of people gathered by the table, mindlessly drinking and conversing about nothing spectacular. So much so, that you didn’t even bother to listen in or look for a familiar face. You continued on in search of the bathroom, happy to find it vacant. You closed the door behind you, letting the tough exterior fall along with a long sigh. You turned to the mirror, studying your face for a moment. Your makeup stayed valiant through the nights events, the only wear being your lipstick. You searched through your cupboards, locating your makeup box and pulled out the correct one, reapplying it where need be.

When you were satisfied, you did the rest of your business and washed your hands. When you returned to the hallway, the muted chatter in the kitchen was still lingering, but there was a softer, more alluring tone coming from the direction of your bedroom. You turned your head towards it, following the sound almost as if it were calling to you. When you peeked your head inside, a soft smile began to grow on your lips. Jake was sat on the edge of your bed, hair falling in front of his face, picking away at your acoustic guitar.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to play my guitar, Jacob.” You teased, but your words were gentle and there was no malice present in the air. He looked up to you, a bit startled by the sound of your voice.

“Oh, sorry. Figured you wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t.” You assured him. “Why are you up here all alone? Party too boring for you?” You took a step inside, a step closer to him, one that you shouldn’t have made at all.

“No,” he shook his head, attention now focused on you. “Just a lot, I guess. It’s fun, I like it, but I’d rather do this.”

“Want me to leave you to it?” You asked, worried you had intruded. He laughed at your question.

“Asking me permission to stay in your own bedroom?” He cocked an eyebrow up, tilting his head to the side to make sense of the question. You almost expected a witty comment to follow, but he bit his tongue.

“No,” you said, pondering what you were really asking. “Uh, I guess I was just wondering if you wanted to be left alone.” You gave an anxious chuckle.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous.” He noted. “Don’t mind company, especially if it’s you.” You felt the same dreaded redness creep onto your cheeks, unsure if you should advance. He patted the spot beside him on your bed, finding your hesitancy in your own home ridiculous. You took to the mattress, sitting cross-legged beside him. Your eyes immediately drifted to his fingers on the fretboard, which lead to the veins standing so prominent on the back of his hand, all the way up his arm, and to the flash of skin you could see on his chest. Once you’d studied every available part of him, your eyes landed on his face. He gave you a smile, not feeling a need to chastise you for the admiration. “You want to play?” He asked. You shook your head, almost immediately rejecting the idea.

“N-no, I don’t really play much. The guitars are mostly here for decoration.” You lied. Soon after, you realized you couldn’t pull a trick like that on a seasoned musician.

“Hmm,” he lifted the guitar so the top was facing him, eyes dancing over the strings on the fretboard. Then, he pulled it away from him, checking over the back of the body of the guitar. “These strings are awfully worn in. The back seems to have a couple nicks from,” he safely put the guitar back in his lap, reaching over and hooking his finger through the chain on your neck. “A necklace.” He gave you a small smirk. Once again, the feeling of his hand sent shocks of electricity through every nerve in your body, setting you on fire. “The pick-guard is scratched to shit, and it happened to be in perfect tune when I picked it up.” He listed, letting the chain drop back to your body. Instead, he gently ran his knuckle over your cheek. “You lying to me, Angel?”

By that point, you knew there was no escaping the truth. “Okay, maybe I play a little bit. Not the best, though. Mostly just campfire tunes.” You shrugged, internally cringing at your pathetic attempt at a lie.

“I don’t think the owner of the pub on Main Street would ask you to play there if you weren’t any good, sweetheart.” There it was again, sweetheart, angel. He was trying to kill you with the pet names, you were sure of it. Once you moved past the terms of endearment, you snapped back to reality with a flash of dread. He had a laugh at your bewildered expression.

“Stalking me, Jacob?”

“No, although tempting. Could watch you play all day. You’ve got quite the voice.” He complimented. “Just happened to be there one night, got bit of a shock when you jumped up on stage.”

“You never said anything,” you said, watching him carefully. “I didn’t even know you were there. You didn’t come and say hi.” He gave a little shrug.

“I figured if you wanted everyone to know, you would’ve said something by now.” He explained, letting his fingertips dance over the strings, picking out a tune with ease. “I would have said hello, but I was worried you’d be embarrassed.”

“Oh,” you whispered “thank you, Jake.”

“No big deal.” He assured you. “Your secrets are always safe with me.” He gave another smirk, the sight tugging at your heart. “Is that why you came looking for me? Finally willing to give a few away?” Not even God could save you from the sinful look he casted in your direction. The change in tone almost gave you whiplash. You were sure your heart stopped for a moment, realizing how the scene might have looked. You didn’t seek him with any intention of something more, but you couldn’t help but feel him pulling you in further with each second that passed.

“You’d like that too much.” You mirrored his expression, hoping to feign some look of fake confidence. It worked on the outside, but inside, you were crumbling at the sight of him. His dark eyes felt so wrong looking at you in such a way, but you liked it more than you cared to admit.

“Not into pleasing others?” He teased, gaze flickering down to your lips. “Never pegged you as a sadist.”

“Like I said, lots you don’t know.” You chided. He chuckled, standing for a moment.

“You’d love for me to find out, though, wouldn’t you?” He placed the guitar back on its stand, carefully clasping the plastic latch to ensure it didn’t topple over. His eyes glided across your walls, taking in the minuscule details he’d never noticed before. He’d been in the room plenty of times, but never in such an intimate manner. His eyes settled on the little framed picture above your bed. He read the words after soaking in the photo. “Gold Dust Woman?” He hummed, his stare finally landing back on you. He got a small thrill watching you look up at him, eyes wide with anticipation.

“Great song.” You offered, realizing he’d picked up on the Rumours cover print you’d hand drawn the lyrics on.

“Very fitting for you.”

“What does that mean?” You chuckled.

“Gold Dust Woman…” he said, more to himself. “Beautiful name, beautiful girl.”

“A beautiful song, yeah. Not a beautiful story, though.” He shook his head, letting out a small laugh at your unwillingness to accept the compliment. “In fact, it’s quite sad.” He didn’t respond. Instead, he hummed the melody of the song to himself, completely unaware of anything other than the sound. As he did so, you found yourself admiring the sight of him in front of you, the exposed skin of his torso still keeping your attention and nearly making your mouth water. You knew you should get up, just walk out and leave before anything regretful ensued, but you were captivated in him. The scent from earlier not only lingering on his skin, but entangled in your sheets, now. You realized you’d be quite content if it never went away.

“You’re looking at me like you’re trying to figure me out.” He noted. You shook yourself out of the devils hold, returning to the conversation. “Are you trying to figure me out, Gold Dust Woman?”

“Maybe,” you said. “More importantly, trying to figure out if this is a good idea.”

“What, exactly?” He didn’t move from his position, seeking an advance from you, first. You rolled your eyes, tired of whatever game he was playing.

“The flirting, the touching… the secrets?” You listed. He gave a smile.

“Nothing wrong with harmless flirting,” he explained. “Unless you’re thinking about doing something shameful.” You didn’t know how to answer, afraid of saying the wrong thing. The whole situation was so surreal that you were questioning your own sanity. Half of you believed he may get you to profess your fantasy, then leave you there to wallow in it. But, from all you knew about Jake, he didn’t seem like a deceitful person.

“You aren’t?”

“Depends on what you’re thinking about, angel.” He took a step towards the door, causing your stomach to plummet. You sprung to your feet, ready to stop him in his tracks without a second thought. The idea of him leaving was worse than any other consequence the night could bring. He turned his head towards you, a sly smile stuck on his lips. He knocked the door closed with one swift motion of his arm, turning back towards you. You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling ridiculous at your own habit of jumping to conclusions. Of course he’d be making a move to close the door, rather than leave you by yourself. “Seems like you don’t want me to go.”

“Fuck, of course I don’t, Jake!” You sighed, frustrated with your own inability to make up your mind. He took a step towards you, brushing your hair from your face.

“What do you want?” His palm settled on your cheek, soaking up the warmth. “Hmm?” The little devil in your brain was screaming over every other rational thought. The memory of Sam was barely alive within you, your only focus being on the begging question of what he looked like out of his clothes. “You can say it, baby.” He was close enough that you could feel the vibration of his chest while he spoke.

“I…” you started, unable to properly formulate your words. He waited a moment, just to see if you’d say what he so badly wanted to hear. When you didn’t continue, he took it upon himself to guide you. His hand on your cheek drifted towards your neck, fingers barely touching the back of your neck while his palm grazed the side of it. His free hand found your hip, gently guiding your body into his. His head was downturned slightly to meet yours, his forehead just hovering over your own. The tip of his nose was brushing against the side of yours, the smell of whiskey on his breath was intoxicating all on its own. Every gravitational pull in the universe was pushing you closer to him, begging you to taste his lips, even just for a second. Your chest was burning, searching for oxygen as you continued to hold your breath. You were scared to move, still worried about advancing, but terrified he’d pull away.

“Is this better?” His words were barely above a whisper, but they hit you with force, soaking into your skin and settling in your bones. Your eyes were closed, revelling in the closeness, wanting to think of nothing other than the feeling of him. He lowered his mouth, just barely enough to brush his lips over yours. If the feeling wasn’t so electrifying, you thought you might miss it. With the newest invitation, every moral and ethical thought in your brain was silenced. The only one left was the same, little, red devil who’d been hoping for this the whole night. The only worry left in you was about him leaving without you getting the satisfaction of having him completely.

Without another thought, you pushed through the invisible barrier you’d drawn, finally pulling him into a kiss. His hold tightened, letting you know he was ecstatic about your decision. It was hungry, fuelled by all of tension you’d been feeling all night. You finally allowed yourself the pleasure of letting your hands explore him, something they’d been eager to do for hours. You fought with the two bottom buttons of his shirt, freeing him completely. You brushed in from his shoulders and he dropped his arms, letting it fall to the ground. Your fingers danced over the bare skin, wanting to know every intimate detail the fabric had been concealing. Without breaking the kiss, he slipped his hand from your hip to your ass, pulling you further into him with a force that made your head spin.

When you finally parted, you were breathless and void of any rationality. When he snaked his hands under your shirt to pull it over your head, you were more than willing to comply. You lifted your arms, allowing him to slip it off with ease. You could tell just by his movements that he’d been waiting to get you out of yours, too. His hands went straight for the buttons on your jeans, something in which you greatly encouraged. Once you were left exposed, he guided you to the bed and laid you back on the mattress. You didn’t have time to get a word out, because his mouth was back on yours and he was pulling your bottom lip between his teeth. If you were in your right mind, you would have been more focused on the fact that you were naked and he was still partially clothed. Also, probably concerned with how quickly the situation evolved into what it was. But, the curiosity of his hands was too pleasurable to complain about anything, and the gentle exploration was highly appreciated.

His fingers found your nipple, brushing against it softly, allowing you to get a feel for his touch. When the breath caught in your throat, he rolled it between his fingers, giving a soft pinch. He smiled against your lips when you tensed in response to the action, his cockiness still taking up space in the room, even during sex. His lips trailed from your lips down your neck, silently searching for another spot that would give him a reaction. He settled below your ear, lingering there after you’d let a breathy moan slip past your lips, pleased with himself once again. He made quick work at sucking marks into the skin, easy enough to hide, but present enough to remind you of him. The last thing he wanted was for you to wake up in the morning and forget all about him.

He was settled between your legs, one hand still resting on your breast while the other held himself steady on the mattress. After he was satisfied with his work on your neck, he continued further, familiarizing yourself with every available part of you. He let his teeth graze over your collarbone, the unfamiliar sensation seeing you on fire. If his mission was to leave you desperate for him, he’d done well. You were a mess below him, unable to contain the whimpers and sighs falling from your lips. You wanted more; the teasing and the playfulness was fun, but you’d been craving him all night. The wait was unbearable, almost making it hard to enjoy the attention he was already giving you. When he pulled your hardened nipple into his mouth, you realized you were completely willing to do whatever he asked of you, as long as there was a promise that he’d never stop.

In your desirous state, you realized that maybe that little devil you had in your brain was instilled in his, too.

No, you were certain the actual devil had buried himself in some part of Jake.

There was no rational explanation for the pleasure he was granting you just by his simple touches. It was sinful; every movement had to be laced with evil. Nothing pure could ever be so exhilarating. You were certain whatever power he had within his hands and his tongue had to be unholy, because in that moment, there was nothing you wouldn’t do to feel it again. The indisputable fact was hanging thick in the air: no matter how much guilt you felt about your entanglement with him, it was nothing in comparison to the inebriating feeling of him on your skin.

As his fingers sunk between your legs, dancing through the parts of you he’d been so desperate to know, you knew that you were fully tangled in his web. There was no way you could walk away from him, now. The act both of you were engaging in was blissful, that much was undeniable. But the lengths you would go to for the feeling of him between your legs was godless. You thought, if the decision of letting him bed you was a good one, there was no way it would have produced such an immoral desire within you. But, the mistake was already made, and you were dancing with the devil. Whether the devil being his hands or his tongue, or him as a whole, you weren’t sure. The relationship was solidified purely by lust, now, and no distance could drive away your need for him.

When his fingers slipped inside you and the pad of his thumb brushed over your clit, you were practically ready to come undone just by the first movement. Crying his name, biting your lips to silence yourself, but failing miserably. His unwavering silence was unnerving, but it was offset by the heaviness of his eyelids, pupils clouded with a longing for you that you’d never seen from another person. His lips were parted, gaze never moving from your face. He was completely enthralled in you, feral from the scene below him. The sight of him gave you some sort of comfort, knowing that the feeling between the two of you was mutual. He was willing to do the exact same things to have you underneath him forever.

“This is what you wanted, angel?” He asked, voice low and gravelly. “What you were too scared to ask for?”

“G-god, yes, Jake.” You breathed, wanting so badly to close your eyes and dissolve into pleasure, but finding yourself unable to look away from his face.

“Don’t ever be scared to ask again.” He said, looking down for a moment to let a trail of spit fall from his lips onto his hand. The act only tightened the knot in your belly even more. “I’d spend all day making you feel good, just to see those pretty faces you’re making,” he mumbled, eyes now focused on his fingers pumping into you. “Just to hear those gorgeous fucking noises.” His tone turned into a bit of a growl, as if he’d worked himself up even more just by talking about it.

“Fuck, Jake.” You let your head fall back to the pillow, finally breaking your stare from him. As you did so, he pulled his hand from you completely, causing a rise of panic in your chest. Before you had the chance to look up and see what was wrong, he’d sunk to his stomach on the mattress and hooked his arms underneath your thighs. In a single movement, he pulled you down towards him and onto his mouth.

The newly discovered form of pleasure was a million times more powerful than his hands. The talent he possessed in his fingers was minuscule compared to his tongue. He took his time, savouring every bit of you that he could, searing the memory into his brain forever. The taste of your arousal satisfied his need for you even further, making him wish he could live between your thighs for the rest of his life. When your hands snaked down and tangled themselves in his hair, he was certain he could’ve gotten off to that feeling alone. He worked at you, now only driven by his desire to bring you to an orgasm, needing to experience it as if it were necessary for his survival. He was practically begging you by the way he was using his tongue, as if he had to do beg to begin with. You were at the brink of an orgasm before he’d even started.

His fingers were digging into your hips, holding you on him like he was scared you’d disappear if he let go. You gripped at the roots of his hair, a plea for something, even if you weren’t sure what it was. Maybe for an orgasm, or for some compassion; you didn’t know if you wanted more or if you needed him to slow down. Everything about Jake was conflicting, but indescribably fantastic. You wished you hadn’t fallen into the trap, but there was nowhere else in the world you’d rather be.

“M’gonna cum,” You warned, barely able to get the words out. In response, he did nothing other than focus on you even more, as if it were possible. With his unwavering determination, it didn’t take much longer for you to unravel, spiralling into an orgasm stronger than any you’d ever had. It was earth-shattering, all the muscles in your body tense and stars dancing in your eyes. Your lungs burned for a hint of oxygen, as even your breathing stopped momentarily. When you started to come down, you weren’t even sure if you were still in the same realm. He tapered his pace once he noticed you relax against him, the hold you had on his hair beginning to loosen. Once your body was lax against the mattress, he pulled back. As greedy as it sounded, you wished he didn’t.

“Fucking divine, baby.” He mumbled, peppering kisses on the insides of your thighs. “Didn’t know someone could taste that good.” The words alone could have sent you into another orgasm. As much as you were enjoying the sentiment, the selfish part of you just wanted him to fuck you, now. Want wasn’t even a good enough word to describe it; you needed him. He wormed his way back up your body, wiping his face with his hand before pulling you into another kiss. This one was sweeter, less hungry than before.

When he pulled back and made a move to stand, a rush of excitement flooded through you. You watched him, anticipating the next move, hoping his hand would move to remove his belt. Instead, he bent down and picked up his shirt from the ground. The feeling of excitement was quickly replaced with dread. “Jake?” You asked, quickly rushing to sit up. He stood straight, pulling his shirt back on. He gave you a sly smile, one that made your blood run cold. He stepped towards you, lifting your chin with his finger and placing another kiss to your lips. You reached out for him, hoping your hold would change his course of action.

He parted from you, buttoning the same dreaded bottom two buttons. “Gotta leave something to the imagination.” He smirked, unwilling to change his mind. “If I fuck you now, you won’t invite me back.” If he only knew how wrong he was, he’d be laughing.

“Please, don’t go.” You didn’t care how desperate you sounded; him walking out the door was the most heinous act he could commit.

“As pretty as you sound begging for me, you’ll have to wait, angel.” He adjusted himself in his jeans, concealing any evidence of the acts you’d engaged in. “If you can’t sleep, you know my number. I’d be happy to help you out at least a little bit.” He sent a wink in your direction. The devil inside him was showing again, but in a much more malicious manner. He was being diabolical.

“Jake,” you warned, watching him with caution.

“I’ll strike you a deal, sweetheart. Just cause you’re so pretty.” He took one, single step towards you, just close enough so he could tuck your hair behind your ear. As much as he was set in his way, he still seemed to have a soft spot for you. “I was a bit greedy. I just couldn’t leave you here without a taste.” He crouched down, eye level with you, now. As mad as you were, the desire to kiss him was still very much present. “Needed something to think about when I’m alone, tonight.” He admitted. The thought of him getting himself off to you was driving you crazy; he had no idea the things you would do just to keep him in the room with you. Little to your knowledge, he was struggling to walk away, too. “Since you were so good for me, if you still want me to fuck you when you wake up in the morning, I’ll stay here all day. Any way you want it, however long you want it for. I’m all yours.”

“You can fuck me now, all night, if you want.” You professed, reaching out for his face. Your palm cupped his cheek, begging him to see reason.

“Ah,” he shook his head. “That wasn’t part of the deal.” He hummed, leaning in just a bit closer. “Like I said, baby. In the morning.” He said, lips dangerously close to yours, again. “If I fuck you now, you won’t need me to come back, and I really want you to want me to come back.” He gave you one last kiss, just enough to ensure you of his dedication.

“Okay,” you forced out, unhappy to be complying with such an unreasonable request. You were certain that if he fucked you now, you wouldn’t even be done with him by the morning. Even with the promise of his tongue alone, you’d be begging for his company. You didn’t need to wait for the sunrise to be sure of that.

He stood, brushing his thumb over your cheek and taking one last look over you, admiring the sight. With that, he turned towards the door. Before he stepped out, he looked back again with a smile. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you sighed.

“Thanks for sharing your secrets, Gold Dust Woman.” Before another word was spoken, he had slipped out of the room and closed the door behind him. Now, in his absence, you were mortified at what you’d done, and felt even more shameful knowing how badly you wanted to do it again. You stared at the door where he’d been standing just seconds before, the same turmoil from earlier in the evening making a reappearance. You swallowed hard, well aware of the fact that you’d never be able to rid yourself of Jake, now. Never rid yourself of the desire for him, either. You had no idea what his intentions were, and it wasn’t like he’d been very clear about them, either. But, neither had you. You’d both fallen into the struggle of following your heart instead of your head, and it was sure to leave a path of destruction in its wake.

So you sat, stomach turning and head spinning, realizing what type of predicament you’d caught yourself in. You were undoubtedly in love with Sam, and now, completely in lust with his brother. Or, Satan himself. You still weren’t sure which title fit him better. He looked like Jake, spoke like him, but his ability to make you into such a fool for his sin came completely natural; almost as if it wasn’t even a struggle for him to make you fall to his feet with a single snap of his fingers. One feeling so innocent and pure, and the other absolutely concupiscent and filthy.

No matter which way you looked at it, you found no logical way around either emotion. No solace existing in your brain, either. You couldn’t help but feel ridiculous for being upset over your own stupidity, knowing the only one to blame was yourself. You curled up in your blankets, desperately searching for sleep, seeking a moment of peace. The only thing you could hope for was that maybe the morning could bring some form of clarity. But, hope was a fabled idea, and you’d already dug your grave too deep to climb out of it. No sunrise could rid you from the looming regret hanging over your shoulders.

Rock on, Gold Dust Woman

Take your silver spoon, dig your grave

[paintersknife]

Ashes to Ashes

“I’m sorry Mr Anselm,” 

He doesn’t hear the voice, his lilac eyes fixed on what the man is holding in his hands. A flower lantern. He had promised her.

“It’s the only thing that survived the fire.”

With trembling fingers, he reaches out to take it, holding it in his palm almost reverentially. His expression is so calm that it’s eerie, the servant excusing himself awkwardly. He doesn’t notice him leaving. 

The lantern, once beautifully crafted and coloured in her favourite colours (he always wondered why she liked purple so much) lays in his hand, trembling in the breeze like a dying butterfly. It’s in a sorry state, crushed and burned, the ink from the inscription running from where someone had presumably tried to put out the blaze. Even after all this, he can still make out the words, written in that delicate handwriting of hers. May the coming days be as filled with wonderful memories as today.

What were the last words he had said to her? He can’t even remember. Some perfunctory goodbye probably, meant to be temporary, just a reassurance that he would be back soon. What did she say to him? Had she asked him to come back soon? Told him that she would miss him? Had she asked him not to go? To stay with her? He can’t remember. He’ll never know now.

In a daze, his feet take him to the room that she loved to watch him paint in, the one that opened to the courtyard with the wisterias they both loved. There’s nothing there now, just ash and dust. Just like her.

Finally his legs give out and he slumps to the floor, not caring if the soot stains his white robes. Black on white. An echo of her. The relic he had left her to find slips from his bag and clatters to the ground, but he ignores it. The last one we needed, but what’s the use of it if I don’t have you? The lantern is cupped in his palms like the most precious thing in the world, tiny, fragile, tissue thin. To him, it’s an irreplaceable treasure. This is all I have left, the only thing that shows you existed.

She didn’t want him to go. He knew this, and still he went, hiding his selfish desire for her behind the guise of giving her her freedom. He told her that, and still he was terrified that she would choose to leave him anyway, but he knew, he always knew. She was content to be by his side, to watch him as he painted endless worlds for her, to lay her head in his lap as he put brush to paper, undisturbed by his small movements as he did his best to capture every ounce of the world’s beauty, all for her.

Sobs burst from his lips, the sound louder than he thought he could ever make. His shoulders heave and he gasps for breath, the weight and magnitude of his regret a weight that constricts and crushes. There’s an emptiness in him, a grief so terrible that he can’t remember what it feels like to be whole.

He wishes he could cry an endless river of tears, enough to extinguish the fires that had devoured her. None come.

Did you know what was happening to you?

Did you suffer?

Did you call my name in the dark?

Did you wait for me to answer you?

Did you cry when you realised I wasn’t coming?

I should have been there.

I should have been beside you.

I left you.

I left.

They never gave us an elaboration for what happened when Cael came home, so here.

[i-maybe-go-on-stupid-rants]

Lottie and Nat and the Hunt

i find it kind of ironic and comical that nat was the one who got hunted.

Lottie was dying and offered herself as sustenance. but to prevent her from dying, because they “need” her, all the girls end up trying to kill the one who they actually DO need! Nat is the most practical person to OBVIOUSLY not hunt, because she is literally the best out of ALL of them with the gun and Travis can’t just go out on his own: the whole point is they are a hunting team and they are the ones to keep alive out of common sense. Lottie is important and shouldn’t need to die, but she was lowkey on deaths door, and she offered herself willingly in the case that she kicks the bucket, yk? she suggested herself to be eaten out of honesty and caring, and her condition is what made it practical for her to say so.

Lot and Nat are both practical. Lottie saw this as a simple and violence-free way for her death to serve the group, because she was already close to dying, and if it happened she wanted to be of use. Nat is the one who brings them food, who maps out the land, who found the moose while Lottie was suffering from hypothermia. Lottie has been emotional support this whole time, which isn’t to say that she’s useless or DESERVED to die, but that she was close to death and this was willing. it meant enough to her that she made Misty promise they would eat her if she died. and she’s not even in a position where she could khs out of grief, because they’ve made her a messiah. Nat didn’t want to die and shouldn’t have been in the position where she has to. No one’s life is inherently more purposeful or valuable than another’s, BUT the contributions they bring to the table and their roles as members of a surviving, functional group ARE. food is more practical and necessary: it’s OBVIOUS that nat and travis should be the ones kept alive, and i get that the rules of the “game” were that you draw and you get what you get, but if Coach didn’t have to participate then neither should they.

my point is that if they were thinking clearly, like Lottie was, they wouldn’t have hunted Nat. and it just shows that now their beliefs are BIGGER than Lottie. it’s more powerful than common sense. the hostility is so high that they can’t recognize Lottie’s sacrifice when she offers herself as a punching bag for Shauna: they lashed out at Shauna and Van has to remind them they should be thanking Lottie instead of spiting Shauna. Lottie offers her corpse as their sustenance and they are so hellbent on their ideology that they turn knives towards eachother. at this point no one is seeing things clearly, and the wilderness has taken hold over rational thinking and the RATIONAL wishes of their pseudo-messiah.

they nearly kill the MOST practical and necessary person to keep alive, because they don’t want to accept the practical decision of someone they deem more “necessary.”

[petchricor-creates]

@rvbrarepairweekdos

Little Tumblr exclusive one-shot I made for rarepair week today. This is an AU where Felix survives and him and Locus better themselves off screen before coming to help with Temple. Then they all move to Iris to together and eventually start dating Wash

Anyway, enjoy!

Felix opened an eye with a groan, half awake and barely comprehending the whimpering and whining he was hearing. After a moment the sound breached his consciousness in a way that mattered and he opened his eyes, rolling over to see David tossing and turning beside him with a deep frown.

Felix reached out and took David’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it and humming a soft tune as he kissed over his neck and shoulder. Felix smiled when he felt Locus’s arm wrap around David’s waist, kissing over his other shoulder.

“H…Huh?” David mumbled, eyes opening slowly in confusion. He gasped loudly and struggled slightly.

“Shh,,” Felix cooed, petting David’s hair with his free hand. “You’re okay, you’re in bed with us.” David looked over at Felix, his expression still one of mild panic. “I know, I know it felt so real, but you’re okay baby, I promise.”

“We’ve got you,” Locus said softly, nuzzling David’s neck. David whimpered, gripping Felix’s hand tightly. “What did you see?” Felix didn’t expect a real answer, David had only ever said anything about his nightmares to them once. He’d told them he dreamt he was the Alpha being tortured, apparently that’s how most of his nightmares went.

“I…I was here,” David said quietly, gripping Felix’s hand even tighter. “And everything was fine, but then…then the Meta came, and Sigma. And they…they destroyed everything and killed everyone. There…There was so much blood…”

Felix held David close to him as he sobbed, digging his nails into Felix’s back as he clung to him. Felix’s heart ached seeing David like this, he hated knowing David was suffering this way. He wished he could just fix it and take all those awful memories away. Unfortunately, the best he could do was be there for him. 

“I’m so sorry,” Felix said softly, kissing his forehead. “You’re safe now, you’re with us.”

“We’ll protect you,” Locus said, nuzzling the back of David’s head. “I promise.”

“O-Okay,” David whimpered between sobs, his entire body shaking from them. It made Felix wish he had taken the opportunity to torture Price the way he deserved. All that ‘I believed in the wrong people’ bullshit speech wouldn’t have been enough to save him if Felix had known what he knew now.

Felix looked down at David when the other nuzzled under his jaw, smiling faintly when the other looked up at him with big eyes. The man knew exactly what he was doing and Felix could admire his ability to get what he wanted.

“Yeah yeah yeah, midnight tea it is,” Felix said with an amused smile. He grinned when David squeaked happily and gave Felix a quick kiss. Man. he was glad they’d decided to respond to that stupid Spanish robot’s cry for help.

[sw-au-ocs]

Please forget me…pt.1

Sora…his dearest friend and beloved husband, has a been confirmed that he has a few months of life and if he didn’t come up with something soon…no, he didn’t wanted to think of that…he couldn’t.

They’ve tried EVERYTHING in hopes of Sora surviving this…but there was little to no information on his sickness, so no medications or operations can take place.

What’s worst…Sora already accepted his fate, calling it a “punishment” for his “sins”.

“There’s gotta be a way!”, Stone said through tears, “there’s always a fucking WAY-“

“Stone…listen cariño…”, Sora started as he cupped his tear-stained face when they were at the hospital, “You and everyone else have done the best you can! I’m very grateful to have spent time with all of you…am sorry for everything…am sorry for not being strong enough…promise me…you’ll be there for everyone…promise you’ll try to smile…promise me?”

Stone just screamed in frustration, ‘stupid fucking medical system! WHY?!! GODDAMN IT WHY!?!! WHY COULDN’T YOU LET HIM BE FUCKING HAPPY???!!!! WHY?!! WHYYYYYY?!!!?’, he mentally cursed as he slumped down to the ground into the fetal position, sobbing uncontrollably.

He hated this…he hated this so fucking much…hadn’t they’ve suffered ENOUGH!!?! Hasn’t HE suffered enough…

He wished this was all a nightmare…but it wasn’t.

This was unfair…all of it…

He then wiped away his mascara tinted tears as he stood up to leave to join Vinnie and Skipp…until he noticed a weird book of some sorts on the floor…which was weird.

He walked over towards the book and picked it up from the ground…it was a spell book.

A spell book?!

Wait, Why would Natalia keep a book like this?

Unless…

Now, for as long as he could remember, Stone was a man of science. He didn’t really believe in all that spiritual shit, but Desperate times call desperate measures…especially when all options are running out.

This was stupid…but what other choice do they have???

———————————————————-

“Hold on, a spell book?!”, Vinnie yelped, “Why in the fuck would Sora’s Meemaw have that’s on her?”

“Does it matter?,” Stone asked annoyed, “correction! I don’t give a shit. All I know is that THIS has to work! If monsters exist, then so does magic!”

“Wait…you might be on to something, Stoner!”, Vinnie exclaimed, “so if we use this book…”

“Then Sora will be saved!”, Skipp exclaimed, “that’s good news!”

Stone then looked down at the book then nodded.

“You know I’m a man of science…”

“Yeah, it’s called a nerd!”

“….shut up. What am saying is this shit BETTER work! Because I don’t think I can live with myself if it doesn’t…”

———————————————————-

Later that night, at library of Natalia’s mansion.

“Ok, is that all the ingredients?”, Stone asked sternly.

“You betcha!”

“We’ve got a tea spoon of Cinnamon, orange flower petals, blood-stained glass shards from a door I punched , possum bones, and a piece of purple fabric!”

Stone nodded, “OK…now we just place them around in a circle while chanting the phrase 3x, got it?”

Skipp and Vinnie nodded as they did as they were told.

Once the circle was completed, they all stand in the middle of library.

Vinnie then turned to Stone, “I swear to god if you accidentally teleported to a random ass place, I have every right to knock you out!”

Stone rolled his eyes as he prepared to say the phrase.

A part of him wasn’t very hopeful that it will work, but the other half insisted that it can…the crazy shit people would do for one another…

Stone took a deep breath and started to recite the summoning phrase:

Spirit of life, spirit of death

I call on upon your presence tonight

Hear my woes, hear my prayers

I wish to save a soul so bright

Hear my call, answer my plea

Let your song feel through me

“Pfffft-so enchanting!“

“Vinnie! Hush!”

Stone felt his cheeks turn in an embarrassing shade of pink for saying that, Natalia owes him BIG TIME.

“Uh, Can I continue? Husband’s LIFE on the line!”

“Oh my bad! Continue!”

Stone groaned as he recited the poem two more times.

Once he finished, some things begin to happen around the room.

The temperature began to drop.

The lights flickered.

The offerings BURST into flames.

No one said anything until they heard a woman’s voice behind them.

“You called???”

Forced to swallow up their fear, the trio slowly turn towards the origin of the voice.

It was a woman, a very tall woman… She had onyx hair, red lips, a white dress, and a veil covering her upper face.

Holy heck! It worked…

To be continued…

[the-sinful-voice-witch]

The beauty🌹 of Shadamy

Isn't it just wonderful how my dear Amy Rose gets paired romantically with every Sonic Rival in the fandom? Even Blaze! And fortunately not much with Jet 😂😂 My favorite one obviously is Shadamy, followed by Surgamy and finally with Metal Sonic but seriously, to me nothing beats THE Shadamy❤🖤🩷.

So the BEST thing about this ship to me is that it was born out of a single interaction 😆 and I don't mean the moment she colorblinded mistook him for Sonic and hugged him nooooope I mean the moment she reminded him about Maria Robotnik's 🥺 true wish by giving him a similar speech of hope and second chances and after that he said: I have to fufill my promise for Maria... And you... Me after seeing that👇👇

(Funny this gif, casually she was also fangirling about a... SHAMY 🤣🤣 only the ones who know the show will get it)

Seriously, is fascinating how popular this ship became of that single interaction that led fans to write a HUGE amount of fanfiction of them and is always so romantic or so passionate or so angsty God I never get tired of it, one of my favorite portrayals of Shadamy is when Shadow is kind of a emo simp towards her, like he is simply adoring her even when she only looks at Sonic who is not looking at her 😭... Ah drama. 😂 I remember a few stories back when I was a pre teen... Like "el blog de Amy Rose" That's the only written fanfic name I remember and it was a total soap opera, a total and absolute telenovela full of all kinds of drama like Silver was their son and Sonic and Shadow were lost brothers 😂. Then I remember I few comics like Ternion that was an insanely passionate and angsty story with an excellent art that to contribute to my torture it was never finished... And boy I know the author had a secret smut chapter that she never posted anywhere... We know it exists because there were a few hot scenes in a video... 😭 but never happened the story didn't even reach half of what I think it was going to be🥲. In Chaos universe there's a double story in one Sonic and Amy had a daughter named Sonia but in an alternative universe we have María Rose who is Shadow and Amy's daughter... Is another tragedy were Amy is dead in both universes 😭 and of course I'm totally biased with Maria Rose's universe because the way her dad remember Amy's just hits different, seriously is way more enjoyably painful 🥲 and then the most current comics I'm addicted to of course IDOL AMY portrayed Shadow exactly how I said I like him the most 🥺 and the last one I saw is one apocalyptic where obviously Shadow survives and mourns a dead Amy: Future's Shadow... Girl this hedgehog can't catch a break they like to see him suffer 🥲🥲🥲

Now let's focus in the official interactions:

The Archie comics before the reboot kinda mistreated Amy portraying her in an annoying way most of the time just like in some games... And I wasn't a fan of a certain interaction she had with Shadow... (Those issues had a bitchy evil Rouge portrayal that I didn't like one bit🤬) I mean shadow actually kicks her in the stomach and hits her with her own hammer and... That just felt so wrong, you see I can't picture an scenario where Shadow would lay a hand on Amy in such a way as he did in those comics but I had a little comfort in this interaction at least 👇👇

She puts her faith on him when he doesn't have much faith on himself and that is something she also did in the games, like in Shadow the hedgehog own game. Then there was a reboot and we got better interactions, here we have Amy teasing him and he pouting adorably (and finally they dropped the Rouge is a bitch portrayal thank you😤)

We also see that they can make a good team

Hey Shadow how it feels to be hammered by her? 🤭😇, then we had the marvelous IDW reboot but we still don't have proper interactions (and this is the best Rouge💜)

Though honesty? This look like a romance novel scene... You know, with the bad boy being stubborn with the kind sweet girl 😂. Well Sonic IDW is still ongoing so we'll see if we get something more juicy... But I think I will be happy if they simply team up in a fight again.

And now let's talk about Twitter... Well, well, well have you noticed this tiny details in Sonic's Twitter takeovers? Someone asked "Shadow, will you marry me? " And they made Amy voice be the one reading that question 🧐, not only that the things Shadow described about what he wants in a partner for marriage were things that Amy totally would do perfectly (and to add some spice they made Sonic voice sound kind of upset to tease us with some sonadow too😂😂) and then the most precious and hilarious thing... SHADOW AND AMY ARE BOTH SWIFTIES 😆😆

And look! He got her ticket's 😭😭 and they went together!!! 😭😭😭(that's a DATE) and then in another Twitter takeover she tells about how they had fun and got shirts and then Sonic got jealous 😭😭😭 KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA and look what SEGA IS DOING 👇👇👇

Pop Star Amy and Rock Star Shadow I can't... 😭😭 and paladin Amy and knight Shadow AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THEY MATCH!!!!!

I'm telling you... Sonic team is indulging us with oficial Sonamy but they are also shamelessly teasing us with SHADAMY (and sonadow juju)

And seriously fellow comic artists, feel free to keep drawing Shadamy comics forever... We don't get tired... 😇 and SEGA... Don't be shy... We conform with little teasing details you don't have to confirm or deny anything but for future games... A little Shadamy won't hurt 🥺🙏, we want Shadamy in games too! IDW that goes for you too... If you are teasing Sonamy and Sonadow you can tease Shadamy too! (And Knouge too! 😫)

And all this reminds me that we should demand SEGA to reboot the Sonic Adventure games with new modern animation and also so it's playable in modern consoles! I want to play it with the Nintendo Switch!! 😤😤😤

[its-cosmerely-an-obsesh-wound]

A Promise Full Filled

Below is an excerpt from my most recent fic:

***CONTAINS WIND AND TRUTH SPOILERS***

It had actually happened. Kaladin wasn't sure if any warping of reality on his part had occurred but Dalinar had done what he had needed to do and the three of them had survived until the end. They had all suffered terrible losses but, tonight, they were choosing to ignore all that because they were fulfilling a promise they had made to one another. At the end. Drinks. Jokes. Laughter.

Currently, the laughter was at Kaladin’s expense. Shallan and Adolin had managed to wheedle out of him the particulars regarding what Szeth had mentioned. Szeth had made astounding progress on their trip to Shinovar, so much so that he and Kaladin had laughed easily and often by the end and Szeth had surprised both Shallan and Adolin by interacting with them comfortably when they had returned. Perhaps a little too comfortably. To Kaladin’s chagrin, Szeth had told them that Kaladin had been unable to best the Shin architecture. Szeth had refused to elaborate further and Kaladin had had also refused to give a full account at the time, citing a need to see his family. But, today, there was no diverting them so Kaladin had to explain in painstaking detail, while Shallan howled with laughter, what Szeth had meant.

“The Shin are much shorter people than the Alethi so there were a lot of doorframes, cultivated trees, and even ceilings that would not accommodate the stature of a normal-sized person—"

“An Alethi giant you mean.” Shallan corrected, as she craned her neck in an unnecessarily exaggerated manner to eye him pointedly.

“Fine. Someone of normal Alethi height.” Kaladin conceded.

“You’re tall, even for an Alethi, Kal.” Adolin asserted, appraising him with a slight smile and a lingering look that had Kaladin feeling...on edge. He was not that tall. For an Alethi. He was only a few inches taller than Adolin. 

“So what did you do?" Shallan asked, her eyes glittering expectantly. "Try to punch and stab your way through doorways or…” 

He wished that were the truth.

“No, um, many times I didn’t notice until—"

“Stormfather! You walked into everything, didn’t you?” She asked with excited incredulity.

Kaladin pressed his lips to a line. He had not walked into everything. But she was right, it had happened. And more than he would have liked. She seemed to guess her aspersion was at least partially correct and he could see the joy in her expression ramping up as he replied.

“Well not everything but there were a few times I—"

Kaladin didn’t get to finish, Shallan erupted with a shrill scream of unbridled glee and Adolin’s barking laugh split the air next to him seconds later. 

Sure, Kaladin felt a little embarrassed about how many inanimate objects his face had unexpectedly encountered but he had promised, drinks, jokes, laughter, and he was certainly delivering on the last part. Kaladin found himself chuckling too, after a fashion, but Shallan was definitely the most affected. It took several moments before Shallan wiped tears of mirth from her eyes and rested her hand lightly on his as her raucous sounds of merriment became a subdued giggle.

Kaladin’s laughter became uneasy and died as he processed several disturbing things at once: the hand Shallan had placed on his was her clothed safehand, the topic of conversation had changed to a distressing one, and the seating arrangement was...disquieting and too close. In short, somehow he had gotten trapped between Shallan and Adolin while they argued about Kaladin's farewell hugs all the while Shallan touched him in an arrestingly inappropriate and intimate manner. In the middle of a very public tavern.

How had this happened? He thought back. Kaladin had been sitting in the middle since they had arrived but he hadn’t given the arrangement much thought since they had started the evening a respectful distance apart from one another and they had been discussing a suitable topic: the strange Shinovarian flora and fauna. Shallan had shown a keen interest and Kaladin, grateful for the distraction from all the needling about Shin architecture, had seized the topic like a pouch of stormlight during an Everstorm. Kaladin had explained how lazy the grass had been, laying about and getting trampled all the time; how there had been these delightful happy animals called ‘dogs’ that acted like axehounds but were soft and squishy with no carapace or mandibles and enjoyed probing your backside with their noses; and how some animals Szeth had called ‘goats’ had been able to Surgebind—Szeth had insisted they did not Surgebind but there was simply no other rational explanation for how they scaled sheer cliffs like that, Kaladin had seen them at it with his own eyes—they had to be using adhesion or gravitation. Szeth was mistaken. Unfortunately, mentioning Szeth had reminded them about the storming architecture again but even those laughs at his expense had been better than this.

“You got two hugs.” Adolin insisted to Shallan.

“I had to initiate the first one though and Kaladin suffered it like a chull bound in a heavy stormwagon yolk. The one he initiated was much shorter than the hug he gave you.”

Somehow as the conversation and alcohol had flowed, the distance between them had shrunk to almost nothing, such that Shallan’s and Adolin’s present and disconcerting tete-a-tete was taking place practically on top of Kaladin. Kaladin was immensely uncomfortable. Why did the hugs he gave them matter and why were they chatting about it with no space for Honor between the three of them? Kaladin was finding it harder and harder to follow the exchange because he was becoming increasingly aware of their proximity to him in several would-be innocuous ways...

Here's a link to the rest of it, if you want to keep reading. Please take care, it is rated EXPLICIT because I cannot keep my hands off the smut when it comes to these three...or in general. You know that part in A Bugs Life with the mosquitoes?

Mosquito 1: Harry, no! Don't look at the light!

Harry: *entranced* I-can't-help-it. It's-so-beautiful. *Harry gets zapped and DIES*

Harry is basically me with smut...wait, there's a When Harry Met Sally reference here...if you want to have what she's having you might like my writing 😂 You've probably heard of a gutter ball. *Jumps up and down* Oh, yes, bowling! I've heard of that! Well, I have a gutter brain. There are balls involved in my gutter brain and many other euphemistic sports accoutrements that I could mention. But I won't. No one wants that. In fact, no one wanted this paragraph at the end, not even me, but I typed it already so...pipe down, I got the conch and... *does best Leonidas impression* THIS—IS—TUMBLR!

(RIP Piggy, sorry about your ass-mar and brutal murder—Roger was a right Piero Manzoni piece of work)

Well, that stream of consciousness was a trip to read in the stark light of day. Someone should take away my keyboard. Alright, shutting the fuck up now...

PS: See, I did mean what I said

[hanzajesthanza]

I wondered what is your favourite witcher moment? A moment/chapter that really struck with you? And why?

hmmm...

as for "favorites"...

i consider baptism of fire chapter 7 to be my favorite chapter out of the saga, because every scene in it is fantastic and a personal favorite... firstly, the frame story (love a good frame story!) of the children of vyrva hearing the legend from old storyteller pogwizd. then the heartache and black humor of regis loredropping his backstory, followed by interesting intellectual discussion, geralt's company and zoltan's company being reunited, emotional shattering of geralt consoling milva, and finally, one of the best action scenes: the battle of the bridge. and geralt and regis' side conversations in this chapter really serve to illustrate just how much geralt developed as a character in this book, a major aspect of why it's my favorite in the series (imo, geralt before baptism of fire is not as compelling as during and after it).

my favorite short story is something more, for its ending with geralt and ciri. and for its scenes with calanthe, yennefer, and death, each with powerful emotion. and for how visenna appears... i actually can't get through something more without crying, i cry every time. also, of course, geralt telling dandelion that he must have gone crazy with fear if he could think that geralt would leave him there... and i also think something more is an example of incredibly good writing, in terms of weaving everything together.

my favorite setting is beauclair, i find it really beautiful and yet the most tragic, in its beauty, because our heroes cannot stay there and it's not their destiny to live happily ever after. i joke "my mind is in beauclair" but it's actually true, it's the setting for a lot of my daydreaming and there's something so magical about it.

my favorite character introduction is tied inbetween dandelion (voice of reason 5) and angouleme (tower of the swallow 5).

in ciri's story, i think tower of the swallow was her strongest book, within that i like her time spent with vysogota. and, of course the ice skating scene on tarn mira is well-written and orchestrated (my favorite detail is that bonhart realizes what she's planning, and turns back without warning any of the rest... foreboding, foreshadowing, but also, hilarious).

and maybe an unpopular opinion: i like chapter 6 of time of contempt, when ciri is in the korath desert. it was a great way to break the crazy action of chapter 4 and interconnected politics of chapter 5. i find it to be much more figurative than a lot of people see it: "oh, ciri's in the desert and has to survive." yes, that's the literal interpretation of events... but the point of it is that she's abandoned by everyone who she thought promised to never abandon her, she realizes that all she learned is useless. and she wanders the desert ("for 40 days and 40 nights," one might say). the suffering is the point. it breaks her. it's hard to change a character this drastically, it's also hard to write a chapter with just one character and their introspection without much happening (expect for ihuarraquax showing up in the middle of it, i mean). but i think it was done well and was placed in exactly the right moment with the rest of the book. time of contempt has probably the best pacing out of the series.

the witcher does "suffering" really well, that's probably why it struck such a chord with me. so anything where a hero is in anguish is well-loved (for instance, geralt's monologue to iola in voice of reason, or the ending of a grain of truth).

i also like anything that is an allusion or in reference to another work or history, particularly when i can pick up on it - either i knew it before i read, or when i've had time to look into it and research it.

in particular, i like seeing odyssey parallels, like in the last wish, how geralt and yennefer go back to this ancient topos of a hero in conflict with a witch or sorceress, using trickery to defeat her - odysseus and circe - but yennefer is the one to trick geralt instead; and then they find love genuinely, putting this manufactured conflict down, recognizing a connection, not hatred. and i also see an odysseus - circe thing with geralt and fringilla. and one of the reasons i like beauclair so much is because of the "magic land tempts heroes into staying forever, staying their quest and making them either drugged or miserable" which is like at least four different places in the odyssey: the island of the lotophagoi, circe's aiaia, calypso's ogygia, finally, scheria... someplace so perfect and beautiful that you just want to stay, but it will be your doom if you do. very metaphorical. and also on this topic, i think regis is like the anti-polyphemus, being a great host and displaying exemplary xenia, giving the heroes wine and not eating them or drinking them. it's them who get drunk, not him!

segueing from this, my favorite part of the odyssey is odysseus and telemachus. and so i really like everything about geralt and ciri, and how ciri inherits this misery of being a witcher from her father, though her future is left up to reader interpretation, i love the lines in chapter 7 of lady of the lake that she was all alone amongst an archipelago of places... i really like their story that he tried to save her by leaving her, and it was his leaving her which doomed them both. and i like how sapkowski decided for ciri to be a girl, which not only makes her interesting and unique as a hero, but also invites more interesting examination into her and geralt's relationship as a father-daughter relationship rather than a patriarchal lineage father-son inheritance. (the witcher would be so trite if ciri was a boy).

oh yes, anything relating to isolation and loneliness is a big win for me, which is also probably why i like the witcher so much, it's all about that

i have to stop writing now but i could literally go on about more favorite things for hours <3