#it's cool how the sky gets darker and more ominous as you progress

[gummi-ships]

Worlds of Kingdom Hearts

[ajokeformur-ray]

Bruh can you do a thigh riding on Arthur,,,, ple;ase.

TW; smut (obviously), NSFW, thigh riding, protected penetrative sex, swearing, no pronouns used but body parts are female.

Hidden from those in Safe Mode. Do not read unless 18+.

word count: 2, 884.

The Murray Show was on and that meant that you had temporarily lost all of Arthur’s attention.

With a happy murmur and a little jog to the other side of the bed had Arthur said, “Yay, Murray!” and now, even with all of you focused on him was he ignoring you.

You always liked to watch the show with Arthur even though you greatly disliked the host because it meant that you got to spend some proper uninterrupted quality time together. You would cuddle closely on the sofa and keep each other grounded in the moment by keeping your hands clasped together. Sometimes when one of you was feeling especially affectionate, you would sit on Arthur’s lap, his chin rested on your shoulder, just to give yourselves that extra something that you craved from each other.

This wasn’t one of those occasions. No.

This night was one during which Arthur sat apart from you, his arms crossed over his chest and his legs crossed at the ankle, his jaw ticking sometimes. His index finger tapped twice against his arm every now and then when something irritated him - like when you shifted on the bed, disturbing him, or when you laughed a little too loudly at a joke.

Arthur was in a bad mood and it was starting to wear off on you.

There was something that had frustrated him today and so far he hadn’t said anything. By now, the light grey storm clouds in Gotham had grown darker, more ominous and heavier with rain still to fall, and the sky had begun to bleed purple as the sun fell below the horizon. You didn’t want him to go to bed angry or irritated. You wanted him to go to bed with a smile on his face.

All you had ever wanted and would ever want for Arthur was his happiness.

With a sigh did you get up onto your knees, deliberately using Arthur’s knee to pull yourself up.

“Stop that,” Arthur huffed, his eyes not leaving the television. ���I’m trying to watch Murray.”

You smirked. It was almost time to play. Sex with Arthur was always so much rougher when he was irritated with something. Only when he had to release some pent up energy did he grip your hips so tightly you knew you would bruise, did he bite the places he kissed so reverently, his tongue soothing the marks his teeth had left upon your skin, did he thrust into you a little deeper, a little harder. Sex with Arthur was delicious but sex with a frustrated Arthur was magical.

On your knees facing Arthur did you climb with far less grace than you were aiming for onto one of his thighs. Surprised by your sudden advance did Arthur sit frozen, his eyes glued to the television screen, wide and his pupils dilated. The growing tent in his jeans showed that he was already aroused. All you had done was straddle his thigh. It never took much to get him going, most especially when he was already highly strung with emotions.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re so grumpy?” You poked one of his cheeks with a finger and Arthur frowned, swatted your hand away. He shushed you harshly.

You wrapped your arms around Arthur’s neck, your fingers finding the hairs at the nape. Using your grip on his hair did you pull yourself forward, your clothed core sliding against Arthur’s thigh, creating a friction that had you gasping. Had you just discovered a new spice in your relationship together?

Arthur choked on air, his hands flew to grip your hips. Your eyes met. Electricity crackled in the air between you and just like that did Arthur lose all interest in watching The Murray Show. It was an old re-run, anyway. Not that he had been planning on telling you; he had wanted to see how long it would take before you got bored and decided to take things into your own hands. He so loved when you took control; as someone who had to be on top of everything all the time in real life, he loved to take a step back in the bedroom and let you decide things. Of course, he could be dominant too, but he far preferred the way you looked when you were looming over him, the harsh overhead light creating a halo behind you. In those moments were you his angel and often did he murmur that word to you affectionately, curving his lithe form upwards as to kiss you tenderly.

Goodness, he loved you.

Using your grip on his hair did you tug, forcing him to tilt his head into the movement. It exposed the column of his neck, which you attached your lips to. You kissed a trail from the very corner of his jaw bone, down the hollow just under his ear and then down his neck. Each peck as you progressed further down did you press your lips to his skin harder. At the junction of his collarbone did you begin to suck gently, grazing the abused area with your teeth. You soothed the aggravated area with your tongue. Arthur was moaning softly and you didn’t need to look at his face to know that he would have his eyes shut; his fingers flexed upon your hips to hold you right where you were.

You knew a hint when you felt one, so highly attuned were you to Arthur’s needs, and you began to gyrate your hips, creating a sinful tension which only made you want more and more of the feeling of Arthur between your legs, against your core.

Help you, you loved him.

“What’s wrong, Arthur? You’ve been so tightly wound up tonight.” You pulled yourself up to sitting, wanting to actually talk to him; it was important to you that you found out what was bothering him so badly. Your thigh riding slowed to a gentler pace, but Arthur grunted as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against your shoulder, using his grip on you to keep your hips moving; he didn’t ever want you to stop. Not now that you had finally taken control of the situation.

“I just - I needed - this,” he panted roughly against your shoulder, peeling the neckline of your shirt away so he could plant dry kisses to your skin with those warm and slightly chapped lips. Your hands came up to grip his shoulders, to better your stance, and your own head tipped back as you gave yourself over to everything that you were feeling.

“Next time - “ You were beginning to feel your own breath coming quicker now “ - just ask.” You silly man, was the last affectionate coherent thought you had before you truly surrendered yourself to everything. You quickened your pace, gyrated harder against Arthur’s thigh, but it didn’t seem to hit that spot. The sounds of your moans, Arthur’s soft whimpers and occasional grunts as he bucked his hips instinctively filled the room and created a soundtrack to your love.

You needed more. Of everything. More of the friction to your core, more of Arthur’s lips, of his hands, his teeth, that devilish tongue - you needed more of Arthur and as your core clenched around nothing, feeling empty, you decided to take what you wanted. You wanted more.

“Oh, fuck this!”

You jumped up off of Arthur, pulling yourself away and getting off the bed completely. Arthur watched you, transfixed and awestruck as you hurriedly undressed yourself. Your underwear was wet, sticky and clinging to your core, and you winced in slight disgust as you pulled your underwear down your legs. The actual mechanics of having sex grossed you out a little after the fact but right now you just wanted Arthur inside you. Your future self could deal with the way you threw your clothes any which way without care for where they landed.

He took his cues from you and undressed himself from where he was still sat on the bed. His actions were frenzied and had he not been already sat down, he would have tripped on something and hurt himself. He was so clumsy, your Arthur, and you loved him for it. The contrast of the way he held himself when he was relaxed to the way he gracefully moved when he was dancing only added to the overall sense of mystery that surrounded him and even though you knew him like the back of your hand, you knew that there were still parts of him that you had yet to discover. Somewhere did you know that each day would reveal some small fact about him, some small quirk, and you would never run out of new material to discover.

When all clothing barriers were shed did you pounce on him like a lion stalking its prey. He had resumed his position leaning against the headboard and you had wasted no time in straddling his lap fully, the inside of your knees pressed to his slender outer thighs. With his eyes blown wide and his chest heaving, his ribs protruding painfully through his skin, his hands suspended in the air like he was suddenly unsure of himself did Arthur watch you. The brief break that you had taken from each other hadn’t cooled his desire for you. No, like a pit of lava did it continue to burn its way through his body, violent in its relentlessness. Even with you here, now, straddling him but your laps misaligned slightly, even with the way you were as physically close together as you could get, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. You were like a drug to each other, and like all addicts did you require more for the same fix each time. Arthur had gone without love or any kind of compassionate touch for his entire life and often did he seem to want to fit in thirty five years of what he had been missing into one evening. You never minded; you welcomed his clinginess. Even when you were in a bad mood, you bit back irritation when Arthur cuddled into you, taking initiative. It wasn’t healthy to do so, but you were both aware of the silent sacrifices you made for each other and that was precisely why neither of you ever put a stop to it.

Before you acted on your mutual feelings, though, you had to say something. With an excited shake to your fingers did you reach out to cup Arthur’s face. He moaned softly, closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. Everything you did to him did he savour, making sure to pay every inch of attention that he had on you so that when you weren’t with him in the future for whatever reason - though he thought it would be because you had found someone more deserving of you, not that he would ever tell you because he didn’t want to be a problem and he definitely didn’t want to invoke any anger in you - he could always look back on moments like this and know love. He had craved it for so long and you gave it to him in spades.

“Arthur, look at me,” His eyes had been fixed at a point just over your shoulder, the Murray Show over by now and some other rerun was playing, but now his eyes were on yours and the love in them threatened to choke you. It almost did but you pushed through. Everything was so intense with Arthur. You knew you didn’t want it any other way. “Don’t be afraid to tell me what you want. We’re in love, we’re together and that means that should you like to do things like this, you can just tell me.” Patience was something else that Arthur had taught you, even in moments like this when you longed to sink down on his length were you somehow able to concentrate long enough to help him through whatever was going on in that complex mind of his. You were his only experience in love, relationships and sex and so you often had to explain things to him as they occurred. For every time you comforted him without even knowing it, he did something for you wordlessly. Both of you were aware of the quiet ways of showing love that you did for the other. It was a relationship of give and take in varying degrees, but no matter what the shared percentages were in any given day, no one was ever left feeling unwanted, unneeded or unloved. That was something that neither of you could stand the thought of.

“But I just - “ Arthur started out strong but his confidence faded. His throat convulsed as a sign of an impending attack and you did the only thing you could think of, the only thing you wanted from him, the only thing which would stop his self-depreciation in its tracks -

You kissed him.

Arthur took a few seconds to come to life under you and then his lips were devouring yours like he was starving as his hands once again gripped your hips. You grinned against his mouth as you found that dark spark within him that you sometimes tasted but couldn’t ever fan into a proper flame.

“Take from me what you need.” You hoped that he would let go of all of his restraints now, and allow himself to express his wants. You raised yourself up long enough for Arthur’s hand to quickly dip into the bedside table, find and rip open a condom and slide it easily onto his length before you sunk yourself down onto him. Arthur groaned lowly in your ear, his warm breath washing over your face. He smelled of cigarettes and tasted of coffee and you found yourself dizzy on all that you were feeling in this moment.

With his hold on you did Arthur set a pace that left you breathless. What he lacked in experience he more than made up for in enthusiasm and as he sunk his teeth carefully in your shoulder, you tugged on his hair. “Don’t hold back on me, love.” You could barely speak, barely breathe as you impaled yourself again and again on Arthur, making sure that with each movement was he deeply seated within you. Your lips met in a heated frenzy, your head tilted back with the urge to breathe but Arthur didn’t let you go; lavishing your neck with kisses, nips, sucks and bites; his teeth grazing gently before he bit you, soothing the area with his tongue. This was what you had been after, what you had been craving from your slightly broken love; that darkness that you often glimpsed within him but could never draw out. He was more confident, more harsh with his words, his voice husky, his hands rougher and his lips… it was sinful what they could do to you.

Your eyes met green and there must have been something on your face because Arthur began to thrust into you harder, lifting you up until he was almost completely out of you before he slammed you back down. A coil of tension wound tighter within you before it snapped and you came; the feeling of your silky walls clenching around Arthur had him coming too, and he slowed to a gentle pace as he rode out your high with you.

“I love you so much,” Arthur stayed inside of you as he cupped your face and pressed tender kisses all over your skin, which had a slight sheen of sweat to it.

“I love you too.” You smiled, letting Arthur see everything. “You did so well, honey.” You knew Arthur well enough to know that he doubted all of his actions and always wondered if he was good enough for you, so after each time did you compliment him. Arthur’s appreciative beam let you know that he knew what you were doing and he loved you even more for it. Not being able to say the words in his head because his thoughts never translated out loud very well, he only gently eased you off him, kissed your forehead and left to go to the bathroom. He was big on aftercare, almost enjoying it more than the actual act of sex itself.

You watched him go with a soft smile on your face. You were going to be so sore tomorrow but you didn’t care. Not when Arthur looked at you like that. Not when his bruising grip, which would undoubtedly show on your body tomorrow, had marked you, making you known that you belonged together. You would wear them with pride, even though no one else would see them apart from the two of you. That was all you ever needed; Gotham had no business knowing of your relationship and deep intimate bond with each other. You were both private people who kept their home lives totally separated from what reality demanded from you but never gave back, and it suited you both well.

The world could burn for all you cared. So long as you had each other, you had everything.

The Arthur Fleck/Joker Defense Squad @writings-of-a-gen-z  @x-avantgarde-x  @mapreza1 @insomniabird  @mavalenovaninagavi  @itwasrealenough  @morrisonmercurymalek  @rand0ms-fand0ms  @rafaelina-casillas @aclownthing  @rebs-doom  @vivft  @help-i-am-obssessed @autumnaffection   @taintednihilist   @vladtoly   @mg-woolf99 @misstgrey92  @that-s-life   @dopey-girl-blogs  @seeking-dreamland  @sweetheart-syndrome  @heartxfdesire  @xmusichealsthesoulx  @0callmejude0  @the-one-that-likes-riddles  @hannibalsslut  @folliaght  @freeeshavacadoo  @bingewatchingmylifegoby  @unlovedbyeveryoneandeverything  @okamiredfoxx  @sp0okysp0oky  @the-pandorabox  @mardema  @jibanyyan  @honeyflvredcoughdrop  @emissarydecksetter  @jokerfleckk  @epidendroideae  @chuuntas  @stillmabel  @pumpkinpeyes  @onehystericalqueenposts  @the-jokers-wolf  @nalsswa  @justahyena  @arianatheangelworld  @soullessblondbitch  @gothamslittlejester  @twentyonestarrynights  @sirianfromsixties  @kissmeclownman  @joker-is-my-hero  @lazyloosah  @lovesickkloxx  @ladylovelyluna  @live-love-loki  @clownerybbxx   @tragicarthur    @anmach123     @rommie-chan      @arthurflock

[lovelylaurie]

Chronology - Part 2

Adolescence  Laurie x (March) Reader Words: 2478 Request: @psychshawnjuleshanluke A series where each part follows reader and Laurie’s relationship over time.  Part 1 | 2 | 3 

--

     Meg sighed dreamily. Her breakfast plate sat untouched before her. Jo screwed up her face, “Ugh, gross!” She followed the gaze of Meg’s fluttering eyes out the window, only to find John Brooke on the path outside, gazing back at her, “Aaah! Gross!” She ran across the room to draw the curtains. Brooke looked embarrassed and began to walk away briskly. Amy looked up at Meg mischievously and slipped a few pieces of toast off her plate with a sly hand. 

     Over the past few weeks of summer, your world had begun to change, ever so slightly shifting into maturity. Meg was engaged now and seemed wholly unable to think about anything else. Though you wanted to be happy for her, and wished for her to have the future she wanted, you, like Jo, couldn’t help but feel some contempt. Just last winter, you were running around and romping as usual. But come spring and summer and everyone was suddenly different. Jo, noticing this as well, had a quicker temper than ever. Too much talk of the future sent her storming off to the attic, presumably to skulk. And you were inclined to agree. Even Amy, though still very much a young girl, was beginning to realize her dream of becoming an elegant lady. She fussed about her hair and clothes and accessories. Instead of playing Pilgrim’s Progress, she had taken to strolling around the house haughtily, pretending to be some rich aristocratic lady. But worst of all, worse than any of this, was Laurie, who would be going off to college in the fall. The thought of it alone gave you an acute sinking feeling. For now, you were attempting to ignore it and live every day to the fullest. But it was a difficult thing to take your mind off. You kept returning to an image of the March house, quiet, dark, and dusty, reeling from the twin losses of Meg and Laurie. Though you knew the house would still be full, and Meg would visit often, the feeling of loneliness was incredible and overwhelming. The other loss, Laurie’s, somehow loomed darker, more ominously leering. “Well! I’m off!” you stood up suddenly, trying to shrug off the intense foreboding that gripped you. “Where are you going?” Jo asked defensively. “Laurie’s,” you answered, without so much as a glance back at Meg’s dazed and faraway expression.      You ponder, as you walk the path to the Laurence house, how difficult it is to leave one’s closest friend. It has you utterly and completely torn. In seeking comfort and escape, you turn to Laurie. His presence, his very being, has always been its own consolation. His smile warms your heart and his cool, contented expressions calm you. But now, every thought of him is a double-edged sword. Every thought of him has you thinking of his coming departure. Every chime of his laugh and twinkle of his eye has you missing him already. But loneliness and distance are worse, so you seek him out every chance you get. And however much you want to stay at home with your sisters, you simply can’t. Jo’s contempt is similar to, but different than, yours. She seems to have already fully realized these changes and departures, and stubbornly resolved to refute them every chance she gets. Meanwhile, you have been ignoring it as much as possible. Her animosity and constant irritation only worsen your loneliness. By now you have arrived at the Laurence house. You enter without knocking, as has become custom. But upon entering the study, the scene before you causes your cheeks to redden with embarrassment. Laurie and Brooke are seated at the table by the window in the midst of a lesson. At the sound of the door, Laurie, whose legs are resting nonchalantly on the table in front of him, turns to look at you. Relief washes away his expression of extreme boredom. “(y/n)!  What a wonderful surprise.” He jumps up immediately and waltzes towards you. Brooke looks hesitant and you look horrified. How could you have assumed Laurie would be free? Of course he would spend his few months remaining before college preparing academically. Or at least, his grandfather would force him to. Your blush deepens as you consider that just as he has served as a distraction for you, from change, you have served as a distraction for him, from education. “I’m so sorry, I should have knocked.” “Nonsense, come in.” He is wearing a white linen shirt with large, flouncing sleeves and an unbuttoned silk vest. You make a move to leave, but he shuts the door and leads you away. Brooke looks exasperated, “Laurie, please sit down.” He is ignored. “You are always welcome, (y/n), I insist.” Part of you, the polite and mannerly part, wants to leave. But the door feels miles upon miles away, and the thought of spending a day alone is utterly and gut-wrenchingly awful. After an awkward pause, you say to both of them, “I’ll let you get back to your lesson, but do you mind if I stay?” Brooke seems taken aback, but accepts, “I suppose that would be alright.” “Stay as long as you like,” Laurie assures you, returning to his seat.     So you settle into the study, walking the shelves and flitting through old books. Laurie follows you with his eyes, and Brooke appears worried, presumably that your presence will only distract him further. But then you immerse yourself in a book and read quietly on a couch, close enough to hear them but far enough away that you are apart from their discussions. With time, you notice that Laurie is more quiet and subdued than you expect, and his feet have not returned to their spot on the tabletop, Brooke’s tone loses its edge of irritation, and Laurie buttons up his vest while reciting verb conjugations in Latin. By lunchtime, they’ve finished. The second he is allowed, Laurie strides across the room and seats himself beside you on the arm of the couch. “I promised Grandfather I’d eat with him, but after that, I propose the wildest and most riotous adventures.” “I can’t wait.” You smile and Laurie continues talking, but out of the corner of your eye, you see Brooke giving you a long and pensive stare before leaving. The following day passed with little to note. Laurie was occupied almost until dinner time and you were forced to spend the day between Jo and Meg, where a sense of animosity was growing.     But during breakfast the day after that there was a knock at the door. Marmee answered and you heard her conversing with Mr. Brooke. When she returned, she asked for you. Meg looked considerably crestfallen. Jo rolled her eyes, “You’re already engaged, Meg, seriously.” Brooke had the same thoughtful look he did two days ago, as he said, “Good morning, Ms. March-” “(y/n)” “-(y/n). I was wondering if you noticed anything out of the ordinary regarding Mr. Laurie’s level of focus while you were present the other day.” You tried not to laugh at the way he said ‘Mr. Laurie’ or at his exceedingly formal tone. He was about to be your brother-in-law for Christ’s sake. “I’m not usually there, I can only speculate.” “Well, you see… He was focused, intent, and, well, reasonably respectful.” “Which he isn’t usually, I’m sure.” He nodded, “Correct. I attribute it to your presence.” At that, you blushed a bright scarlet. “He frequently skips lessons or rushes out early, and I’ve noticed that it is to come here, and, frequently, to see you. But while you were with us, he seemed placated. Or at the very least, temporarily mollified. I came here, Ms.- (y/n)- to ask that you accompany us again today.” “Okay,” you squeaked, “I’ll just… grab a few things.” Laurie has been your best friend and closest companion for almost as long as you’ve known him, but your pulse quickened to think that you could have that effect on him. You returned to your family and found your sisters’ faces full of amusement, even Meg. “I’m going to accompany Mr. Brooke to the Laurence house today,” you proclaimed matter-of-factly. “I’m glad to hear that Laurie will be focused on his lessons,” Meg chided. Jo and Amy laughed and Beth and Marmee smiled as you gathered your book and scarf in a small bag and hurried out.     When you arrived at the study a few minutes later, Laurie was slouched against the window with, once again, complete and utter boredom. “Brooke, I could have sworn I saw- (y/n)!” He sprang across the room to greet you, “Oh, please tell me you’ve come to take me away. I can’t stand another minute of this.” “It’s 9 am,” you laughed. “I’m at my breaking point.” He smiled with an air of levity forming at the corners of his lips. “Vive la révolution, Laurie, but only after your lessons.” You resolved to thoroughly explore the room today, and laughed at Laurie’s frequent proclamations of “Vive la révolution!” whenever Brooke scolded him for getting off task. Other than that, he remained focused and even appeared at times diligent. Many days were spent just like this one as the summer drew on, hours wiled away in companionable silence and distant closeness. You would remember these times, later, when he was away, and imagine he was beside you in your loneliness. Perhaps equally lonely, himself.      Finally, as you neared the end of summer, Mr. Brooke deemed Laurie prepared for higher education and released him to his final weeks of freedom. He then could often be found at the March house, as early as breakfast, and frequently staying late into the evening.     One afternoon, a week from Meg’s wedding, you had both escaped from the preparations and planning to the woods surrounding your houses. You had climbed up to a low-lying branch of a large tree and was now seated there, reading. Laurie was lying down on the grass below you, gazing lazily at the sky through the tree branches. “I can’t believe one of the March sisters is getting married,” he said. “Yes, and to your teacher,” you replied bluntly, trying to brush him off and avoid the conversation. You still wanted to ignore everything, but the time was fast approaching when you wouldn’t be able to any longer. “Is there something on your mind, (y/n)?” His tone is tender, soft, and caring. “Nope, I just want to read my book.” He chuckles, “No, you’re not.” You look down and glare at him, “And how do you know that?” “You haven’t turned a page in the last ten minutes.” “That’s what you’ve been paying attention to?” He must have been more bored than you thought. “What else is there to?” You didn’t realize until later what he meant by this, but for now, you just stared at him curiously. “Come down.” He sat up against the trunk of the tree and patted the space next to him. You sighed, gave a small smile, and obliged, hopping down from your branch to sit beside him. “So this has something to do with Meg?”      You paused before responding with an apprehensive, “Yes.” Meg’s marriage was definitely part of your melancholy. And although you didn’t plan on telling him this, Laurie’s leaving for school was affecting you much more. “What about her?” “It’s just- she’s getting married and- and moving away. And as much as I want to be happy for her, which I am, I can’t for the life of me figure out why.” Laurie gave you an odd look, so you continued, “Okay, I know why. But it’s just that she’s leaving all of us for this… this boring bachelor. I just find it odd.” “Perhaps it is, but they love each other very much. And you know what happens when two people love each other very much-” “YES! I do, Laurie!” you shrieked, and you both burst into laughter. Then you saw that familiar glint of mischief in his expression that had you forgetting everything, forgetting Meg, forgetting Laurie’s university. But soon it all came rushing back, because this is what you would miss, that look in his eye, that smile. You stopped laughing. Laurie stared at you contemplatively as you leaned back against the tree trunk and pulled your knees up towards your chest protectively. His voice dropped to barely above a whisper, “But that’s not everything, it is?” “No,” you admitted. He didn’t respond and instead put his arm around your shoulder, allowing you to lean into him. He traced circles on your shoulder with his finger. You sat here for a while, reveling in this hint of bliss, before he whispered, “You can tell me what it is if you want.” You couldn’t say no anymore, you couldn’t simply walk away. Not here. Not now. “You, Laurie. It’s you.” His finger stopped moving and his arm hung over you with far more weight than it had just moments ago. “You’re leaving and I’m going to miss you,” your voice broke, “so much.” The softness wasn’t gone from his voice, but something else was there as well, something much more morose, “I have to do this, (y/n).” “I know that, and I couldn’t possibly ask you to stay, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” “(y/n),” he turned your face towards him, putting his hand on your cheek, “I will think of you and I will write to you and I will come home as often as I can, I swear it.” He was just inches away. Your heart beat fast, and though you didn’t quite know or understand what was happening here, you loved it. “Laurie-” in a second, he closed the space between you. The kiss had a depth of emotion and feeling that encapsulated everything you could have possibly said in that moment. It was not long before you would forget what you were going to say, the memory being overshadowed by what came next. You put a hand on his chest. He was warm and soft and it felt so natural to be this close to him. The kiss ended, but he didn’t pull away.  Then, from somewhere behind you, you heard, “(y/n)! Laurie! Come, it’s time to get back to work!” It was Marmee. Laurie merely sat up straighter and looked in her direction, but you jumped up and brushed yourself off. As you and Laurie walked home, you realized how fast your heart was beating and how breathless you felt. You were dazed and stared off with a glassy and faraway look that was oddly similar to the one Meg had recently adopted. Laurie was skipping slightly as he walked, unable to control a smile spreading across his face.

[dietmountaindew2002]

The Revel of the Unblessed Court

Your headlights cut through the dense fog. The beams shine golden-yellow against the thick mist, like sunlight cutting through cloud on a spring day. You squint, pushing yourself up in the seat, trying to see the road in front of you. Theres no centerline now, almost certainly confirming your suspicions that you may have taken a wrong turn.

Hesitantly, you pull to the left, rubber wheels scraping against the loose gravel as you run off the road. You pull out your phone, but it glitches, similarly to static on a TV.

"Dammit," you mutter under your breath. Groaning, you opt to continue on the road until you see civilization. Its been two hours since you thought you lost your way, so it makes sense not to go back there. Especially considering it was about an hour before that since you last saw civilization; a lonely gas station, standing out like a candy wrapper in a swimming pool. It was nestled about as comfortably as a blister against a shoe, surrounded by evergreen trees and an eerie mist, mountains looming in the distance.

Pulling back onto the road and wincing at the sound of rubber against gravel as you accelerate, you try to remember what the last sign you saw said.

You flinch as your wheels suddenly go over a bump you weren't expecting. It's getting even harder to see, the unearthly mist that seemingly rises from the ground continues to thicken. Peering over the dashboard, you notice you're travelling over a bridge, presumably wooden, judging by the bumps. As you reach the end of the bridge, you notice a sign posted to the railing.

"'Trespassers beware'?" You say, reading the sign aloud and cocking your head. "That means there must be a private property, which means people I can ask directions from."

Hopeful, you continue down the road, which is no longer compact, but loose gravel which you bump along. The road begins to twist, which is even more trippy with low visibility. You find yourself turning when only mere inches away from hitting a ditch or a line of trees. The road gets progressively bumpier too, potholes make you jump out of your seat, nearly hitting yourself against the window and roof.

Suddenly, your spedometer glitches, and your fuel gauge drops to empty. Slowly but surely, your engine rumbles to a stop.

"Dammit," you curse out loud, slamming your palm into the steering wheel. You try to work your phone again, but once more the screen is static when you try to switch it on. Your radio glitches, and you jump, wondering how this is possible when the car is dead. Curious, you turn up the volume and play around with the channels, until you can hear music, clear as day. It's eerie and strangely beautiful. Ominous chants in ranging pitches, mostly a capella but broken by sudden onslaughts of instrumentals unlike anything you've ever heard before.

You are taken by a sudden and powerful compulsion to dance. The music brings out emotions in you; which you had never thought a simple song could do. Your heart bubbles with lust, inspiration, anger; emotions you feel can only be expressed by movement.

Slowly, you open the door to your vehicle, climbing out and stumbling onto the loose gravel road. The air outside is cool, and your breath condenses, joining the thick mist. Your eyes are drawn upward, to the silvery, ethereal light of the full moon, peeking out from behind layers of cloud. By some compulsion, you are drawn among the trees, sneakers snapping twigs and crunching leaves as you wander.

The urge to run finally takes you, as if the otherworldly spell that brought you here is broken. You scream, your throat stinging with the intensity of it. Fear finally fills your bones as you stop and look around, seeing only forest and fog in all directions. Dark, barely-living trees stand like skeletons above you. Eyes seem to peer from their knots. There are faces carved into their bark. Moss patterns these faces which are all twisted; malignant and sadistic. You back away, frightened, even knowing these trees cannot hurt you.

However, as you back into something soild and feel branches snaking and tightening around your wrists... you know they can.

You hear laughing, which seems to come from the trees themselves. It gets louder, you see their carved jaws laughing, gaping mouths open up to black holes. They grow larger and larger, as the deep, mocking laughter gets louder. Your ears begin to ring, as the laughter reaches its peak and clusters of darkness begin to spill from the wide, open mouths of these trees. The darkness intergrates with the mist, before condensing and steadily materialising into beings. These beings form faces, then limbs, all dripping with darkness, all their mouths moving with the same unearthly laughter.

They're beautiful, terrible, other.

One stands out among the rest, less animalistic but far more terrifying. Easily seven feet tall, their hair is chestnut and curled, long but not long enough to tumble down their shoulders. It frames a face of stark, striking, hollow features and inhuman, slit-pupiled eyes that shine a luminescent green, flashing like jadite fire in the darkness. Their laughter is prominent among the chorus, somehow darker and more inhuman. Dark, bat-like wings spread out from their back, seemingly unattached but most certainly under their control. Pointed and stark white teeth flash as their features become for focused.

You have to look away from the other horrifying creatures, because this one is far more jaw-droppingly terrible.

You writhe against your bonds, desperately trying to break free, but the trees only seem to grip you tighter. The terrifying creature begins to walk towards you, tendrils of darkness flitting in it's wake. You notice movement from the corner of your eye, mushrooms of blood red and spotted with white bloom readily from the ground around the darkness, where strange, short goblin-creatures with long noses and drooping elf-ears that drag along the ground sprinkle glittering spores to the earth.

When you look back up, the creature has reached you. A twisted grin spreads across their face, dimpled and fangy. While a clawed, black hand passes across your face, enveloping you in darkness.

Its grin is the last thing you see.

When you wake up, the sun is shining high in the sky. Your face is pressed against the loose gravel of the road. You sit up, brushing the stones from your cheek and unfurling your clenched fist. Inside it, is a silver pendant studded with blood red rubies along with several large, antique coins, carved with a seven pointed star. These are so finely wrought they must be worth hundreds, maybe thousands. Dazed and confused, you look to see your car, in the middle of the road where it broke down. The door is still wide open where you had stumbled out. You climb inside and sit down, closing the door and taking a moment to breathe. Placing the coins and pendant on the passengers seat, you try your phone. This time, it flickers to life as it should. You turn on google maps and find your destination is only five minutes away. You had never taken a wrong turn at all. You try the engine again and your car rumbles to life, the fuel gauge indicating a near full tank. You shake your head in both wonder and confusion, before heading in the direction of your destination.

#mysterious #fae #faeries #halloween #scary #shortstory #story #fairyring #fairylore #folk #modernfae #fairy #fairfolk #folktale #modernfolktale #folklore

[spookybooscarystorytime]

Two Scary Stories of the Monsters of Mental Illness

New Post has been published on http://www.scarystorytime.com/creepypasta/two-scary-stories-of-the-monsters-of-mental-illness.html

Two Scary Stories of the Monsters of Mental Illness

Listen or Subscribe to the podcast:

Unwanted Company

For the latter half of my childhood, I lived in a small town called Burnsley in North East England, emigrating from London for a more peaceful lifestyle. Life was good, I made friends at school, my dad started managing a local butchers and nothing really bad happened often. However, one day at school, I got confronted by three bullies from Year 8, the year above me. They tried to pick me up and shove me in a bin nearby, but a teacher stopped them. I simply dismissed it as them showing Year 7’s dominance, but then it happened more and more and started getting more frequent as the year progressed. I was getting bruises left, right and centre. One time the oldest one cut my lip with a punch to the face. This bullying carried on into the next year.

In the year later, seemingly out of nowhere, I started hearing rumours of livestock dying from local farms, particularly one where my dad’s business gets his cattle from. The corpses appeared to be mangled beyond recognition. My family dismissed it as wolves but I felt slightly weirded out by it all. A month later and a whole wheat farm and the house on the property burned to the ground. The farm was attacked again, my dad was pissed off insanely. The bullying got worse and I found myself struggling to sleep at night, my grades dropped significantly and an incident with a meat cleaver due to drowsiness left my hand gushing blood. I was losing my mind.

Then it happened. One lonely night I was studying hard after school, desperately trying to improve my grades. When I finally left the desolate school at 9 PM, I spotted the same bullies that tormented me the year before, smoking against a wall. Thinking quickly, I ducked into a nearby wheat field and made my way carefully through the rows. That was when I heard running behind me and was knocked unconscious.

When I awoke, the three bullies were standing around me, giving me a mocking look. The oldest picked me up by the collar and slammed me up into a wall. “What are you doing out here when it’s past your bedtime on your own, you stupid twat?” he jeered. I tried to resist, but he quickly equipped a knife out of his pocket. “So you don’t have to get punished by your parents when you get home, I will do it for you,” he said. I closed my eyes, and I heard a strange growl. When I opened them, the bully at the back was gone. The oldest one still held me with one hand and was turned around staring the other one in the eye with I assume a confused expression. All of a sudden, this ‘thing’ appeared out of the sky and soared down, wings open, picked the other one up and took flight again.

The oldest bully got terrified and ran off, releasing me from his grip. I quickly hid behind a stable wall and watched what was about to happen next. The ‘thing’ obviously wasn’t intent on letting him get away, and swooped down, grabbed him and took off far away into the night. As soon as it was out of sight, I ran off through the wheat fields and to my house.

The bodies were found in an abandoned slaughterhouse a year later, stripped from flesh right down to the bone. The next night, the creature came to me in my dreams. I couldn’t take it any more. I convinced my family to move.

We relocated to a small town in the South West. One fateful day, I got a letter through the postbox. What it said will haunt me forever:

“Remember what I did for you back in Burnsley?”

HATE

We are trapped within the darkest holes of our mind. We can’t wait to be free.

My name is Jason Beckett. I’m a 17 year-old senior and the only child of Julie and Ryan Beckett. My family is an “on the road” kind of family due to constant job openings given to my father. My father became a pharmacist at the local CVS. Mom just stays at home while my dad is away. Due to my family constantly moving I never really made friends nor do I plan on making any. It’s not like I ever needed any friends.

We moved to 15 Windham Avenue in an aqua blue house in Mandan, North Dakota. It’s not much like the other houses with their fancy lawns and house decorations. I could care less what anyone thinks about us. If we’re poor, rich, middle class… we all leave anyway.

When I was a child I got into a huge fight with three teenagers who, to what I thought, were trying to kill me. I don’t know why they wanted me dead, maybe it’s because they were in a gang? It was in the middle of the street and the fight was more of me protecting myself after being threatened by them and sworn at. I was shoved backwards and I began to lose my balance. I fell and landed head first onto the sidewalk pavement.

As I lay there bleeding from my skull, everything began to fade. I noticed the three teenagers rush over to me and as I did I saw someone behind them… then I blacked out. When Mom and Dad found me on the floor bleeding out I was rushed to the emergency room where I was given a full body CAT scan. I asked mom what happened to those kids who attacked me… she told me that I was too young to hear, but something “unfortunate” had happened to them.

After the CAT scan was complete, doctors noticed something peculiar and irregular happening in my brain. They said something about my “Limbic System”, the area involving my emotions. I was asked if I hate those boys who attacked me with which I calmly replied with “no, what’s hate? If it’s something bad then no, I don’t hate them for what they did to me. They concluded that I had a rare, maybe new, form of “Psychopathic Personality Disorder” that didn’t allow me to “hate” anyone or anything.

They were fairly surprised as they didn’t know what this meant or what it was causing this since it’s weird that it would target one specific emotion. They told my parents that they shouldn’t be afraid because it only targeted “hate” which could be considered a really good thing. It was just a feeling that will never be introduced to me because of this unknown problem. But I do know that because of this same benefit from my “problem”, not being able to hate others and stay cool headed, there was also a drawback.

Every night I have reoccurring dreams. It’s a dark, almost empty pitch black world that I am thrown into. It always feels like I have never been here although I always have these dreams every night. There is someone… standing in the darkness, unmoving. I could tell there is someone there in this pitch black abyss because although everything is dark… that person was always darker.

Not even the textbook definition can fully explain how this being can even be seen. As if there is no light able to reach this mysterious person but through my presence he is as visible as a sunflower in the middle of a rose field. In these “dreams” it would always just stand there in this abyss, silent and still. It’s always in my dreams… well I say dreams because nothing bad ever really happens. Regardless, it’s an ominous vision.

Pops enrolled me into Mandan High School. I’m a senior so there really isn’t much going for my senior graduation as I share no special bond with these strangers. I usually keep to myself. I got dressed in my jean pants, red plaid shirt, and beanie hat. I grabbed my bag which only had 1 drawing note book, 5 lead pencils (Since I like to draw on my spare time), 3 notebooks, and a textbook involving the human mind that I stole from my dad.

My dad has a fascination for my psychological problem but it doesn’t bother me. I waited at my bus stop and boarded the bus. I was the new kid in town so naturally everyone just stared at me for the couple seconds I got on the bus and sat down. Then they returned back to their daily activities. They were gossiping, texting, talking, and reading like most teens do. I got to school, received my schedule from my school counselor, and headed to my first period class.

Psychology class, who would have guessed I was put in there. The teacher handed out those written on and worn out textbooks but I refused when one was handed to me. I had my fathers’ text book and viewed it more advanced and efficient than the ones offered by this school. “Infinity of the Human Mind” was the name of my… well his textbook.

It gave a lot of information regarding human emotions, knowledge, brain growth, human reactions. But, as the class started I had the urge to just take out my drawing notebook and a lead pencil. I began to draw, but I didn’t know what I was drawing… I… I just drew instinctively. As I drew, I grew tired and began to yawn. I was slowly starting to fall asleep and then knocked out unconsciously on top of my drawing notebook 25 minutes into class.

I was having the dream again. I was in the same dark place with only me and “that” person standing there. I always wondered if it had a face, but every time I got closer… it got farther. As if he, she, or it didn’t want me close. But this one was different, this manifestation of utter darkness did not move when I got closer.

I slowly walked towards it and when I got to as close as skin contact… I woke up. It was 5 minutes before class ended and I was drooling on my notebook. It was closed shut and my lead pencil was no longer in my hand, but placed on top of my notebook. The lead pencil looked worn out as the eraser was completely gone and the tip seemed burnt from use.

I shook the lead pencil and I heard nothing, nothing at all. All the lead was gone. Maybe someone stole all the lead? I didn’t know or care. I could always just get more. Everyone around me was just socializing or listening to music and here I am… sleepy and confused. I wonder what I was drawing before I slept, maybe I finished it.

I grabbed my notebook and flipped through the pages to notice that all the pages I’ve been flipping through so far have been empty. I was sure that when I began to draw, it was on the very first page. I would never start anywhere but the first page of a new notebook. Once I reached the last page I dropped my notebook.

My eyes widened from a sleepy gaze to that of a frightened child. It was that person, in that empty world. But… there was a white spot in the middle of where his face would be. Almost as if his/her/or its face was beginning to emerge from the shadows. The bell rang and psychology class was over. I quickly snapped out of it and slammed the notebook shut and continued to my next class. The image still burned into my psyche and pulsating strangely as if it’s something I miss, want, need, but I can’t have.

The school day was over and I no longer felt drowsy and sleepy. I headed home and that was that, nothing else happened. I told my parents, when I arrived home, what had happened to me at school and what I saw. My mom told me that it was probably just my imagination getting the best of me, my father, on the other hand, thought differently. He had me re-explain in detail what I had seen and he took notes. Shortly after the extensive questioning he walked towards the phone and dialed a number.

I can’t clearly remember what he had been saying, “I think it might… again… limbic system… the three kids… today…”

I didn’t stick around and just headed to my room since it was already 10 P.M. by the time he finished his constant questioning. As I headed to bed I questioned if I would really have that dream again after that whole ordeal at school. I always have these dreams as if they were a daily routine, well they are, to me.

So I just decided to shut my eyes… and fall asleep. Strangely enough, I didn’t have “that” dream again like every other night. Instead, I woke up… having no dream or consciousness of what I dreamed about. It was as if I closed my eyes and then opened them to the dawn of tomorrow. To be honest, I was relieved strangely. I felt like my life was going to take a turn for the better and things would finally change.

Two months had passed since what happened in psychology class and I still don’t have any dreams that relate to that event or in general. I’ve already read my dad’s book five times and learned a lot from it. One part in particular always caught my attention, “The physiology of emotion is closely linked to arousal of the nervous system with various states and strengths of arousal relating, apparently, to particular emotions.

Although those acting primarily on emotion may seem as if they are not thinking, cognition is an important aspect of emotion, particularly the interpretation of events.” Emotions are aroused in relations to certain events… Interesting. Regardless, I waited at my bus stop as usual. The same sunny yellow bus came driving by and stopped to pick me up.

I boarded the bus and sat down, unfortunately next to Zack. Zack is the senior jock who has a tendency of over-showing his dominance on others. I was no exception, he immediately told me to screw off and sit somewhere else. But there was nowhere else to go and in no condition am I getting off.

I told him to “deal with it and stop being such a meat head.” He glared me down as if he has every motive to forcefully kick me off the bus. He shoved me off the seat… I immediately got up to plant myself back on the seat. He shoved me off again and cursed my name for the entire bus to hear. All eyes were on me, I didn’t know what to do or say.

Suddenly, something rushed into me… something… weird… evil… angry… I rushed off of the bus floor and punched Zack straight in the face, seeming as if I had broken his nose. The impact was so strong that his head whiplashed on the glass of the bus window causing a crack to emerge. Zack’s dirty blonde hair and red sports jacket plummeting onto the leather green seat. He was unconscious… I didn’t know what I had done, but I felt glad that I did it.

I turned to see everyone staring at me and then I froze. I was completely petrified and in total shock from who I saw standing amongst the crowd. This “Thing” was standing right by the bus driver before the driver got up to rush to Zack and me. It seemed like more of its face was manifesting from what has happened. The skin was pale white and only appeared on 1/4 of where its face should be. 1 Black empty hole was where its eye should be and in the center of this hole… a crimson red dot just faintly glowing.

Before I could even scream I was pushed and pinned down by the bus driver. I was never the same after what happened that day… just when I thought things would be different. I slipped out of consciousness… and into “its” world.

I’m no longer referring it as my dream world, but a dark world where “it” inhabits it and forever haunts me mentally and now in reality. It stood there again… in this abyss. Its faintly glowing eye pinned straight on me. I don’t know what it wanted but I was angry for the fact that I had no control over anything.

It was that entire things fault, all of it. Every last ounce of what caused this or what has happened to me in my life, all the bad things… its fault. As I kept rummaging through all of these events being blamed towards it… a skin-like mask began growing on its face.

A second eye emerged from that being. Both eyes are now fixated onto me and it began to slowly move towards me. It was striding from left to right as if it has no sense of direction and as it headed towards me its head twisted and shook violently every step it took. All I knew was that I didn’t want it near me.

But no matter what I did, my feet were planted firmly into the darkness. I couldn’t scream or raise my voice high enough for anyone to hear, just a small shrewd whisper calling out for help as if it was all that my body could allow. It was now in arm’s length of my face… it leaned over and directed its eyes straight at mines…and then there was a blood-curdling scream… I woke up.

I was in a hospital bed covered in snow-white sheets and thin wires strapped onto my head. My head was hurting and throbbing a lot. I was in a solitary room surrounded by 1-way glass windows. I can’t see what was happening outside, but whoever was behind those windows could see me. I felt like a hamster in its cage. Was I being observed and experimented on while I was unconscious? How long have I been unconscious? My head hurts… what have they done to me? All these thoughts made me angry… just… angry.

Two doctors and three guards entered through a nearly camouflaged glass door. I asked them who they are and what they wanted. They ignored me. Instead, those three guards pinned me down onto the hospital bed while one of the doctors came towards me with a syringe. Are they trying to sedate me? Why are they doing this to me?

I was scared… then this same strange feeling rushed into me again and in that very same rush… I saw the reflections of “it” on all of the 1 way glass windows… Standing there and mocking me. They all were mocking me and they all had those same faintly glowing crimson dot eyes. I broke free from the three men and lunged for the syringe the doctor was grasping. Before he could even react I snatched it from his hand and pierced the needle into his neck close to his jugular. He landed on the floor with a loud thud and the three guards and other doctor froze in their tracks. What are they looking at? What did I just do?

Blood began to seep out of the punctured neck wound of the collapsed doctor. Did I do that? My hands began to shake and I began to chuckle. I couldn’t have… it was “it’s” fault. I moved and faced the 1-way window to see my reflection only to be greeted by those same faintly glowing crimson eyes. I was rushed with this same strange and foreign feeling again and I quickly struck the wall with my fist. Just punching and punching in hopes of it going away. Cracks appeared but no matter what I did, its eyes were always fixated on me.

I stopped the assault on the window as I heard the opening of the glass door and a rush of footsteps quickly following. The color in my vision turned into a darker hue. The white-tiled floor my feet were planted on was now dark and grey and the same casual hospital bed and its white fabric sheets were tainted with the very same darkness.

My reality was now “its” reality and as I slowly turned my head… everyone became “It” in my eyes. The only thing that was slightly normal was me in my reflection except I began to turn into that shadow. The same white pale skin began to emerge on my face and I grew those same horrendous, ominous red eyes.

I re-faced everyone who entered the room who now took the form of the very being that had haunted me ever since I was young. I walked toward them and as I did I heard the noise of tranquilizers being fired. I slowly began to fall asleep but I kept pacing towards them till I was in arms reach of one of them. I reached out with my arm and clutched one of their shirts…

“I… hate… you.”

These two stories about both creepypasta stories Content is available under CC-BY-SA.