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vicariousresearcher · 1 month ago

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part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

Johnny has been in a coma for 2 years 5 months, and 18 days. Who just barely survived long enough to get medical attention after Makarov. Who has become a part of the slim statistic of people who’ve survived a gunshot wound to the head. Whose brain scans show limited activity and such little chance of waking up.

But when his family gets asked if they’re ready to let him go his Ma shakes her head.

“God will take him when he’s ready.”

It’s not common that young guys get put in long-term care facilities like yours. Most of the time it’s older folks whose families can’t let them go and are using pensions to pay the rent costs.

At the start, his room is full of visitors. Big family. Very religious you’ve learned. A boy's bible is set alongside flowers.

Between the swathes of dark hair and bright blue eyes are a couple of other individuals. Quiet but polite.

“Teammates.” The dark-skinned man offers with a strained smile when you give him a curious look. “Military.”

It’s not long till his room quiets down. Visits becoming fewer. His family who was already a little detached from their son you concluded. Between the secretive work and deployments that kept him from home for months.

The team came by when they could though. Enough for you to learn their names and details about your resident.

You glean little things about him here and there. Find the sketchbook with his name on it left by the one named Simon. See the tattoo on his forearm obscured the thick curtain of arm hair. Listen politely to the questionable stories told by Gaz that always left Laswell's head shaking.

Quite the man Soap was is. No one’s given you an explanation on that nickname yet but the military guys that come in always call him by it.

You do what you can to keep him comfortable. Trimming his hair, changing out the gospel music for an audiobook every once in a while, talking to him whenever you’re in the room.

Well more so talking at him. Venting frustrations and complaints in hushed words so no one walking by hears you. Talking about your lazy coworkers, the overly loud upstairs neighbours in your apartment, and how you had to sit through another family dinner alone because your boyfriend made some excuse to not come again.

It’s easy to just talk when you’re in the room with him. Feels less like you’re going insane because you can reason that you’re talking for *his sake.* Not yours. Because what if he can hear you yknow?

……

You’ve just transferred him back over after changing his bed sheets, crouched and folding the linen under the mattress while you talk about your plans for this coming Christmas. How you’re excited for that one chocolate pop up shop that always comes to your mall-

You just about shit yourself when you stand back up and look to the head of the bed and see two slits of blue through his tan eyelids. Dark brown brows pinched in just slightly to create a crease between them.

……

A blinding white light accompanying a splitting headache was what he saw first. Eyelids sticky against his corneas. Weight of a thousand sins holding his muscles paralyzed and unable to flinch away.

Then the light flickered and he saw you.

Frizzy hair curling a fluorescent halo over your head. A swinging, unblinking eye glinting off of your chest.

Johnny who tells his weepy-eyed mother that it’s okay, he had the voice of an angel guiding him the whole time. That’s what brought him back.

#cue obsesseive fucked up Johnny #cue everyone else enabling his behaviour because he literally just came back from the dead #141 #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #nurse!reader #unconnected from the last nurse-Johnny post #can you tell what my major is yet?

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hedgehog-moss · 2 months ago

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Today was very sunny so I went on a nice long walk in the woods with Pirlouit, to stock up on kindling for the winter. He was walking jauntily, I think he really does enjoy going on little missions with his baskets! Now and then I tied him to a tree surrounded by enough vegetation to keep him busy for a bit, and I gathered wood all around him while singing to him. Avec le soleil et le vent ♪ avec la pluie et le beau temps ♫ on vivait bien contents ♪ mon âne, ma Provence et moi ♫ (Technically this song says cheval, not âne, but I always replace the word horse with donkey so my songs are more interesting to him. The only donkey songs I know are very sad, like Le petit âne gris which ends with "Poor beast of burden, abandoned by men, he died without a farewell", I can't possibly sing this to Pirlouit. He already has a resting sad face that he can't do anything about.)

I heard leaves crunching behind us, a few times. Steps. Discreet steps. I turned around, looking for the deer who was apparently following us from a distance.

^ Do you see her? Right in the middle. I saw her immediately, but only because I have had so much practice.

Hello, Pamp��rigouste.

Sometimes all she wants is to be witnessed. "Aha, do you see me? I'm out of my pasture!! You lost! Look at me" and then I'm like "I see you, Pampe. Wow!! How ever did you fool me again?" and she goes home, having ticked this off her Sunday morning to-do list.

But today she wanted to play. Instead of going home she kept trotting away from me in the direction of the road; this hilarious game is known as "Can you catch me before I'm on the road? :)"

I did not want to play. I had wood to gather, and Pirlouit was still tied to his tree and he hates being left behind, like a poor beast of burden abandoned by men. He was already braying angrily. I decided to wash my hands of Pampe, which sometimes works to make her go home. You need to act supremely uninterested in her for it to work. If you glance back at her she'll assume you're still playing, and continue prancing about in the woods.

I'm great at not glancing back. If Eurydice was my llama I would have saved her no problem. I went back to collecting wood, never paying attention to Pampe, even when Pirlouit turned around and stared in the direction of the road, his ears alert, doing his best to inform me that Pampe was going in this not-allowed direction.

Stop it, Pirou. We're ignoring her. Do you want me to leave you alone again? I bet she'll get bored before she even reaches the road, and if she doesn't, well, godspeed. Someone somewhere will get a free llama and she will be their problem. (I had a busy to-do list of my own for this afternoon so the question of how she escaped from her pasture is a problem for tomorrow-me.)

But then I went home and drafted some Pirlouit photos on tumblr to write a post tonight about our wood-gathering walk—and I read some asks from this week that I hadn't yet got around to reading, and I found this. (@confusedpersonsposts Thank you for sending it!) A wandering llama, terrorising horses. The article says this happened Sunday morning.

(I really love the shade that makes this look like a police lineup)

The second ask said "yesterday" (and was from a few days ago)—but the first one I saw was the message with the screenshot from the article, which said Sunday morning, which was exactly when I left Pampe walk away by herself and told her to go be someone else's problem.

For a second, in my brain, it made some kind of sense.

#crawling along

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freelancearsonist · 8 months ago

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oblivion

➔ Dave York x gn!Reader - 2.2k

➔ Dave left years ago to keep you safe from him. Now, he comes back to finally claim what’s his.

➔ Rated MA for kinda dark fic?????, gn!reader (no pronouns or anatomy described), reader is able-bodied but otherwise is physically a blank slate, infidelity (Dave cheats on his wife w/ reader), smut, choking, biting, blood, this is the midnight mass au that no one asked for [pls let me know if i missed any warnings you think should be included :)]

➔ Thank you to my love @ozarkthedog for this prompt, if you're reading this ily <3

Everyone is leaving this island–your home–in droves. The seas are drenched in oil, and there’s nothing left to fish or net. People are moving on to bigger, better things. But not you; you’ve never enjoyed the mainland, never craved the just-another-face-in-the-crowd feeling of those big cities. You love your little small town, even if most of it is gone now.

You go for your nightly walk, and the loneliness gets to you for the first time since the spill. There’s no lights on in house windows, no kids playing out in front yards. It’s just you as the sun goes down, casting everything in fiery red and orange brilliance.

Some nights seem darker than others, regardless of the star visibility or the moon’s phase. It’s almost like the air swells and surrounds you until it feels like a thick, dark blanket. It can be almost stifling; and those nights never quite leave your mind.

That’s what it feels like tonight, and for no discernable reason. There’s a wicked sense of foreboding–even more so than you’ve come to be accustomed to. It ramps up even more so when you see the only other house in the neighborhood with lights on: Dave’s house.

Dave left with his wife and daughters two years ago, long before the spill destroyed the island’s economy. No one’s stepped foot in it since–you figured it just never sold. But certainly it hasn’t sold now; who would want to move to the island at a time like this?

Curiosity gets the better of you, maybe because a traitorous little part of your brain wonders if it’s Dave. If he’s finally come back for some reason, if he’s here to fix things. That nagging little hope keeps you up at night more often than you care to admit; that he might return and you’d get a second chance. Either way, you don’t think twice about walking up the short driveway to knock on his door.

It’s completely silent for a long few minutes; long enough that you almost knock again. But maybe this is just some fluke thing, an electrical malfunction or something that turned his lights on. He swore he’d never be back, after all. It’s just wishful thinking.

It started on your night walks. He jogged the same route every single night after the girls went to bed, and eventually his jog slowed to a walk when he would come alongside you. You’d walk side by side and talk about anything and everything, vent about work or life and tell each other little stories. Before too long, you knew him better than anyone, and it was all completely by accident. Just the neighborly kindness of him slowing his pace to chit chat with you.

And then this man who you shared nothing with besides a nightly exercise route, after weeks of small talk every single evening, kissed you. In the middle of a street, in the middle of a very small island community where every single person knew every single thing about every other person; a community where every single person knew that Dave was married, and that he wasn’t married to you.

You dragged him home to scold him somewhere that no prying ears would catch it, and somehow you ended up in bed underneath him. All desperately breathless kisses and deeply earth-shattering thrusts and muffled moans of pleasure.

He whispered that no one had ever made him feel so alive before, that he’d never wanted someone more. And you wanted to believe him, so you did.

Miraculously, no one ever found out; not about that first time, and not about the million times after. No one ever found out about all the times that you swore up and down it could never happen again, only to fall right back onto your knees for him. No one ever found out about the time that he finally agreed with you, and the way you cried yourself to sleep when he stuck to it and didn’t catch up to you on your walk the next night. No one ever found out about how the next night after that, he caught up to you and begged for you–for your forgiveness, for the feelings that only you had ever been able to make him feel.

And for a while, it was enough. Being his at night under secrecy of darkness was plenty; until all of a sudden it wasn’t. Until you would bump into his wife at the market and nearly have a panicked breakdown by the time you got home, wondering just how much she knew. Until he would say things that were heavier and heavier–things that translated to something akin to ‘I love you’ without actually being the words. Until he had to leave for a work assignment.

He’d be gone for a week. That was all. A simple job, he’d explained. Somewhere overseas, but that was really all he said. He never liked to talk to you about his work much. He said he’d be back before you could even miss him.

But it was a month before he returned, and he came back different.

Withdrawn, dark eyes darker than usual, sunkissed golden skin looking a little insipid. You tried to convince yourself that he was just coming down with a cold, that the way he’d put his hand around your neck just to feel your pulse thrum under his fingertips and squeeze a little tighter than comfortable wasn’t related; that the way he nearly broke skin from biting into your shoulder so hard wasn’t anything to be concerned about; that the way he seemed to have doubled strength while he was away wasn’t cause for alarm.

You lied to yourself because it was easier than the truth; whatever had happened on his assignment, he wasn’t the same man anymore. The man you had started to fall in love with, circumstances be damned, was long gone.

But it came to a point where the truth couldn’t be avoided any longer, because the inevitable can’t be postponed indefinitely. Ignorance is only bliss until the truth comes unapologetically crashing in.

He fucked you so relentlessly it scared you. The hands that had once held you so gently were pushing you into positions far past your comfortable range, his hips were thrusting hard and deep enough to bruise. He saw the tears that leaked from the corners of your eyes and called you pathetic; and just like that, you knew your Dave York was gone. Where to, you weren’t sure. But something in his roughness, in the way he wanted to hurt you, made you sure he was never coming back.

You pushed him off of you and told him to get the fuck out. For a moment–one flickering, horribly tension-fraught moment–you didn’t think he would. The most terrified you’d ever been in your life was when you looked into his dark eyes and saw nothing but violence.

For a moment, you didn’t know what he was going to do. And then he hastily pulled on his clothes and slammed the door shut behind him without a word.

You didn’t see him on your walk the next night, and the following night after that there was a U-Haul parked in front of his house. Part of you was relieved at the sight of boxes and furniture being lugged out of the front door into the box truck; another, more complicated part of you wanted to fall to your knees right there in the street and start screaming.

You felt his presence before you saw him–just behind you to the left, out of your field of view. You didn’t turn to look at him; you couldn’t stand to see his face when you asked, “Why?”

“There are worse ways to hurt you than leaving,” he murmured, low and deep. “If leaving is what I have to do to keep you safe, then I’m never fucking coming back.”

You turned at that, because what the fuck was that supposed to mean? What would he have to keep you safe from?

You saw so much sadness in his brown eyes that you nearly broke down sobbing. You knew right then that it was over. There was no begging him to stay, no changing his mind. You didn’t even really know if you actually wanted him to stay, at that point.

He walked away to help the movers lug a couch before you got a chance to say anything; no ‘I love you’, no ‘I’ll miss you’, not even a simple ‘goodbye’.

By morning his family was gone, him included. His house stood empty for two years with not a sign from him. Until tonight.

The living room lights cast a warm yellow glow over the front yard in the dark even through the obscurity of dusty window blinds. You’re tempted to peek through and see if you can tell what’s going on inside after standing on the stoop unacknowledged for a few minutes; just as you make the decision to snoop, the front door opens.

It’s him. It’s really fucking him. He hasn’t changed even the slightest bit. His brown hair is still cut short and neatly styled, his handsome face is impeccably shaved. His dark brown eyes are just like you remember them, from before; the hatred and violence they held those last few days isn’t there anymore.

He whispers your name, and then his eyes flash. “You’re still here.”

“Of course I am,” you reply, on guard. “This is my home.”

His fingers twitch on the doorknob, like he’s contemplating shutting you out. “I didn’t know anyone was still here. I wouldn’t have come back.”

“Why did you come back?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

His eyes shift for a moment, jaw set firmly. “It’s the only place I have left.”

He doesn’t have to put it any clearer than that for you to know that his wife isn’t in the picture anymore. You wonder what happened between them, but a selfish little part of you is triumphant at the fact that he came to you.

Except he didn’t, not really. He said himself that he didn’t think anyone was left. That he wouldn’t have come otherwise. Why wouldn’t he have come?

“You need to go,” he says firmly, moving to shut the door in your face. But your hand shoots out before you can really even contemplate it.

Now, you say what you wish you would’ve had the courage to say all those years ago. “I missed you, Dave.”

You can see his patience is waning–his hand flexes anxiously against the door but he doesn’t say anything quite yet, and you know his is your only chance for closure.

“You said, before you left, that you were protecting me by leaving. What do you have to protect me from?”

“Myself,” he growls. His eyes flash dangerously, the same way they did two years ago.

“What…”

“Each man kills the thing he loves, honey,” he murmurs, stepping closer. It feels like he’s towering over you now, looming ominously. You don’t remember him being this imposing before he left. “And I… I loved you.”

“I loved you, too,” you whisper. Hindsight is funny like that–your brain reveals in hindsight what your heart can’t reveal in the moment. “We can… we can make this work, Dave.”

You should be more hesitant. You should remember how scared of him you were at the end, how strange it is for him to show up here in the middle of the night all alone. You should wonder why he’s back here now, when everyone else is gone.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he growls, all the while moving closer to you as if you have a magnetism he can’t avoid. “I’ve changed.”

“I’m asking for a second chance,” you plead as you set your hands on his strong, solid chest. He’s so achingly close now, and yet he still won’t touch you. “I’ve changed too, I’m… I’m willing to make this work if you are.”

He licks his lips, dark eyes focused… on your neck? Why is he looking there of all places?

He notices that he’s been caught when his eyes flicker up to meet your gaze. He just stares at you for a moment, then two, so close that each breath you exhale mingles with his.

And then suddenly he’s leaning in. You let your eyes flutter shut, awaiting the sweet sensation of his lips on yours after so long; but it never comes. You wait, and you wait, and then you feel something puncture the side of your neck.

It’s sharp, and it hurts. Your eyes snap open and all you can see is Dave; his body curls around yours as he gulps eagerly from your punctured artery. A weak hand comes up to nudge his head halfheartedly–somewhere in the back of your mind, you delight in the softness of his hair between your fingers again after so long–but his arms wrap tightly around your waist to keep you in place and your weak resistance is futile.

He was right, you think as your vision blurs around the edges. You really didn’t have a clue what you were asking for.

➔ moodboard by @ozarkthedog

➔ beta: @futuraa-free and @mothandpidgeon (thank u so much my loves <3)

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

➔ Want to support me? Please reblog this fic! It helps boost it in the algorithm and gives it more circulation no matter what your follower count is :) any feedback or comment is always greatly appreciated!!

#dave york #dave york x reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #dave york one shot #the equalizer 2 #the equalizer 2 fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #cece writes

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coryosmin · 10 months ago

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Caught - Fem!Reader x Sejanus Plinth

Warnings: NSFW content, MDNI, masturbation (m), getting caught, p in v, unprotected sex, praising, etc. shitty writing because i almost fell asleep while writing it 😭😭😭

When Sejanus invited you to go over to his house on Saturday, you had obviously said yes. He was your best friend, the one you’ve stuck with since he arrived in the Captiol when he was eight years old. You had been the first one to be kind to him and ever since then, he kinda followed you around like a lost puppy. It was adorable. And now, ten years later, you guys were quite literally the best of the best of friends.

Sejanus was always there for you. When you had briefly dated Felix Ravinstill back when you guys were sophomores in the Academy, Felix had broken your heart. So you know what Sejanus did? He bought you both ice cream and he stayed the night with you while you cried about how stupid men were. And Sejanus? He backed you up. Because through and through, Sejanus will always support you. That was the night you realized you had feelings for Sejanus.

And you always supported him. When Sejanus had come to your house one night, clearly crying over something that had happened between him and his father, you were there for him. You held him as he cried and vented to you about how his dad constantly thought so little of him. And that Sejanus would never be good enough in the eyes of Strabo Plinth. And you reassured him. You told him that he was doing great, that he was perfect the way he was, and that he worked so hard. That night, Sejanus fell asleep in your arms while you guys were lying in your bed.

You went to Sejanus’s house a bit earlier than originally discussed, not that Sejanus would mind. You had a few errands you had to run so you decided to stop by sooner. When you arrived, you first noticed that his Ma wasn’t home and that Strabo wasn’t either as an Avox greeted you. Though it made sense, you figured that’s why Sejanus invited you over to spend the day with him.

You walked to Sejanus’s bedroom but as you were about to knock and turn the doorknob, you heard moaning from the other side. You blushed as you realized you caught Sejanus at the wrong time. “Oh my god,” You heard Sejanus moan on the other side. “Y/N.” You froze as you heard him moaning your name, your heart racing fast. Did you mishear him or did Sejanus Plinth, your best friend of ten years, just moan your name while jerking himself off? You clenched your thighs together.

You took a deep breath, knocking on the door. You heard rustling from the other side of the door before the faint sound of Sejanus’s voice. “Uh…Come in,” He said, clearly sounding as though he got caught doing something. You opened the door, placing a smile on your face as you looked over at Sejanus. The boy had his blanket covering his body and you noticed his pants on the floor beside him. “Oh!” He said, his cheeks reddening as he saw you. “Hi.”

“Hey,” You greeted, walking into the bedroom and placing your things down. “I had to run a few errands so I decided to come earlier than anticipated,” You said, trying to maintain eye contact with Sejanus. But you could clearly see his bulge poking through the blanket. “I must’ve caught you at a bad time.”

Sejanus didn’t quite know what to say. He bit his lip as he was very embarrassed. You had just caught him jerking off and moaning your name so of course he was embarrassed. “I-” He said, unsure of what to say.

You couldn’t help but be turned on though. You have knowingly liked him for two years. And to find out that he’s getting off to the idea of you? Who wouldn’t be turned on? Your mouth moved before your brain could tell you not to. “I could help you,” You said, tilting your head to the side.

Sejanus’s eyes widened. “What?” He asked in disbelief.

You took a deep breath. Well, there was no going back now. “You could fuck me.” You said confidently.

Sejanus’s mouth opened in shock as he looked at you. For a moment, you almost regretted telling him that. Risking your friendship over some stupid horny thought? That was ridiculous. That was until Sejanus said, “Do you mean it?”, in such a sultry way.

You bit your lip nodding your head. “Please, Sej.” You asked, stepping closer to him. “Want to make you feel so good.”

“Fuck,” Sejanus breathed out, taking the blanket off of himself and revealing his cock to you. “Yes, please.” He said.

You smiled as you pulled your dress off, glad to have worn something so easy to take off. Underneath your dress, you wore a beautiful pair of lace panties and a lace bra. It was a baby blue color. You had worn it simply because they were the most comfortable set you owned and you kind of just threw them on. But as Sejanus looked at your body in awe, you couldn’t help but feel glad to have chosen them.

“You’re so beautiful,” Sejanus murmured from his spot on the bed. You moved to lay down next to him, nervous about what to do next.

“Yeah?” You asked, biting your lip.

Sejanus smiled, nodding his head, “Yeah.” His hand came up to cup your cheek, his brown eyes looking into your beautiful [eye color] orbs. “Are you sure you want this? You don’t have to do it just because you caught me.” His voice was so soft and tender as he spoke to you. He wanted you so badly but he respected you so much.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you looked at Sejanus, unable to help the warm emotions you felt looking at him. Biting your lip, you took his hand and guided it to your cloth-covered pussy, your wetness seeping through the lace. “I want you, Sej,” You murmured back. “I want you so bad.”

“Fuck,” He let out a shaky breath as he felt you through your panties, moving the cloth to the side as he began to rub your clit. “You’re so wet for me,” He said, leaning in to kiss you gently on the lips.

You moaned softly against Sejanus’s lips as he rubbed your clit. You couldn’t believe that this was truly happening. You’ve dreamt about Sej touching you numerous of times, fucked yourself with your own fingers imagining they were his. And now it was finally happening. Sejanus moved his fingers down to your hole, easing one finger in easily. You pulled away from the kiss, gasping as you looked down at his hand. Sejanus thrusted his finger in and out of you at a slow pace, curling it to hit your g-spot. You closed your eyes, arching your back in pleasure. He added another finger.

“So pretty,” He murmured into your ear, kissing your earlobe. “Can’t wait to be inside of you.”

You moaned, turning your head to bury your face into his shoulder. Sejanus’s fingers moved faster inside of you, making you let out a high-pitched moan. Sejanus fingered for a few more minutes, making you get so close before pulling his fingers out. You whined at the loss of contact, causing Sejanus to chuckle.

“Don’t whine, baby,” Sejanus said, bringing his hands to cup your breasts. He leaned down to kiss the top of your cleavage, bringing a hand behind you to unclasp your bra. “Gonna fill you up soon, promise.” He threw your bra somewhere in the room, not particularly caring where it went. He then moved to take off his own shirt, still having it on from earlier, throwing it off to the side.

You took it upon yourself to take off your panties, throwing them to the side as well. “Gonna make you feel so good, Sej,” You said, crawling onto his lap. “Can I ride you?” You ask nicely, biting your lip so prettily.

Sejanus nodded his head, unable to help the smile on his lips as he looked at you. “Please.” He said.

You smiled as well as you placed one hand on his shoulder and the other on his cock, easing yourself onto his member. You gasped as you eased down on him slowly. He was girthier than you had realized, stretching you out. Sejanus let out a low groan, his hands moving to your hips.

You stayed still for a moment, adjusting to Sejanus’s size. You couldn’t help but experimentally clench your walls around him, causing him to gasp. After a few moments, you slowly moved your hips up and down. You leaned in, pressing your forehead against Sejanus’s. “You feel so good inside of me,” you whispered, your breath hot on his face.

Sejanus let out a shaky breath, unable to help the moan that came out with it. “Fuck, you’re so tight, baby.” He murmured, kissing you on the lips. You kissed him back as you slowly rode him, grinding against his cock.

The whole moment felt surreal. You had walked in on him jerking off and now you’re fucking him. You felt like such a whore and yet…you couldn’t help but be so glad that you did it.

Sejanus began to meet your hips, thrusting into you while you moved up and down on him. You couldn’t help the loud moan that escaped your lips while kissing Sejanus. You pulled away from the kiss to throw your head back in pleasure. Sejanus looked up at you, his eyes filled with lust. “You’re so beautiful,” He said, breathing heavily. “Making me feel so good, princess.” You whined at the name, clenching around his cock. Sejanus let out a breathless chuckle. “You like when I call you princess?” You nodded your head. “Such a good princess for me.” Sej said, wrapping his arm around your waist as he angled himself to fuck up into you.

As Sejanus started to thrust into you, you stopped your movements, unable to help. “Oh my god!” You moan out. Sejanus’s cock was hitting your g-spot repeatedly, causing your eyes to water with tears of pleasure. “Sej!”

Sejanus continued to thrust into you, rutting into you like his life depended on it. You cried out in pleasure, unable to help yourself as you gripped his shoulders. “You’re taking me so well, baby.” He moaned out, closing his eyes as he lost himself to the pleasure of your cunt. “I’m so close, baby, I'm so close.” He said, opening his eyes to look at you.

You looked so gorgeous on top of him. Your cheeks were red, your eyes had such pretty tears of pleasure. You were moaning so deliciously. Your cunt was so warm and tight. Sejanus would fuck you all day if he could.

You felt the familiar feeling building in your abdomen as your orgasm washed over you. You arched your back as Sejanus continued his movements. “Gonna cum for me, princess? Gonna cum on my cock?” Sejanus grunted as he thrusted into you. You let out a high-pitch moan as your orgasm washed over you, clenching your thighs as you quivered on top of Sej. Within seconds, Sejanus was cumming inside of you, moaning your name loudly.

And when you both came down from your highs, you slid off of Sejanus’s cock, collapsing on top of him. You both were breathing heavily as he wrapped his arms around you. It was silent for a few minutes until you finally spoke. “Maybe I should catch you jerking off more often.” You murmured breathlessly.

Which ultimately caused Sejanus to laugh. “Yes, yes you should.”

#the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #sejanus plinth x fem!reader #sejanus plinth smut #sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus x you #sejanus smut #sejanus plinth #sej x reader #sejanus x reader

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qveerthe0ry · 4 months ago

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY @for-a-longlongtime 🎊🎈🎂

You are the best Tumblr friend anyone could ask for. I’m so grateful for you and your incredibly supportive (enabling) tendencies, your insanely beautiful fic writing brain, and the ear you always lend to me to vent to.

Also for the gif of Oscar Isaac’s Dick and Balls that you sent me earlier today that inspired me to write a little FishPope blurb 😌 This is my gift to you and I hope you enjoy 💕 Love you!!

Smush

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Santiago Garcia Rating: 18+ mdni Warnings: bulge worship, cock worship, cock warming

Sometimes Frankie just gets a little restless.

He wants to relax. After a long day of work, and whatever project Santi’s got him working on in their garage, and making and/or eating dinner, all he wants to do is relax.

He grabs a shower, sometimes with Santi, sometimes alone. He’ll change into pajamas— now that it’s summer, pajamas consist of underwear and a baggy old shirt. Then he grabs an ice cold beer and settles on the couch for some mind-numbing television while Santi reads or scrolls on his phone.

But sometimes not even the most outlandish reality show can’t settle his restless mind.

Usually Santi notices it even before he does himself. A ‘knock it off’ grumbled at him above his reading glasses cues him in on the way he’s bouncing his leg up and down.

Tonight, he’s grinding his teeth to some unidentifiable rhythm in his head. He only notices because he pinches his cheek between his molars and winces. His jaw aches a bit, he must’ve been at it for a while.

He glances over to Santi. He’s got a really boring looking book in his hands, nestled in the corner of the couch.

His thick thighs are spread open, inviting. Almost as inviting as the soft bulge protruding from his tight gray boxer briefs.

Frankie’s mouth starts to water, alleviating that little nick his teeth caused.

He shifts slowly at first, inconspicuous, and Santi doesn’t notice. So he moves again, lying out on their couch, so his head rests on Santi’s leg.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting comfy.”

“Hmm.”

Santi lifts one hand away from his book to ruffle Frankie’s curls and god, he’s got magic hands, the way one simple touch has his mind going pleasantly empty.

He’s staring at Santi’s bulge now, shamelessly, since the man’s obstructing his view with his book.

He knows it’s a mouthful, even completely flaccid. God, he bets it’s so warm and smooth. He shifts a little closer and takes a slow but deep breath and fuck.

He smells so good. Even freshly showered, there’s always a hint of Santi’s natural musk, something so malty and deep that seeps through the fancy, expensive body wash he likes.

Frankie wonders if it makes him a freak, that he likes it so much. Not that he really cares.

He wants more of it. He wants the smell and feel and taste of him all at once, to overwhelm him and just shut his brain off.

So he adjusts up onto an elbow, and cranes his neck a bit, and smushes his face right at the apex of Santi’s thighs.

“The fuck, Fish?”

Frankie inhales a big breath and hums it out before responding.

“‘M restless.”

His voice is muffled by Santi’s bulge, twitching now as the hot air from Frankie’s breath engulfs it.

“Shit, yeah?”

“Mmmhm.”

Frankie hears a book page turn, and then Santi’s hand is back on his head once more. His nails scrape his scalp before his fingers really tangle and twist.

“Wanna keep it warm for me, papi?”

Frankie’s prick pulses where it’s trapped between his stomach and the couch. He nods, which only grinds his face against Santi’s package.

It feels good, the softness of his underwear gently scraping the soft skin of his nose and cheeks. There’s and impossible heat radiating off of him, and Frankie seeks more of it, nuzzling around, rearranging his dick and balls as his face rubs against them.

Santi hums and tilts his hips, nearly crushing Frankie’s nose as he seeks more friction, but even that sting is good, great.

“Take it out.”

The nonchalant, commanding tone makes Frankie shiver. He whimpers a little, gives Santi’s package one more good smush before the fingers in his hair tug in warning.

Frankie gets his fingers around the waistband, and Santi lifts his hips to help. Frankie licks his lips at the sight of his balls resting over the elastic, all warm and loose.

He nudges Santi’s half-hard cock out of the way to nose at the base and lick the pronounced seam of his sac, to take a deep breath and inhale his intoxicating scent that’s even stronger now. He groans and grinds his own cock into the cushion under him for the smallest amount of relief.

“Put it in your mouth, Fish.”

And he can’t protest, not with the way he has to swallow all the drool that’s pooled just from rubbing his face all over him.

He tastes familiar. It settles him more than he’ll ever admit to anyone. The stretch of his jaw, the weight of Santi’s cock on his tongue, the tickle in the back of his throat. The novelty has never worn off, it just eggs him on.

He starts to bob his head. Santi’s grip on his hair tightens.

“Stop. Just keep it there.”

And even though he’s still a bossy prick, Santi’s murmur is softer and sweeter and less domineering than normal.

Even so, Frankie obeys.

He settles his head back down on his thick, fuzzy thigh and rests there.

He suckles, still. More reflex than anything else. His tongue lies heavy on Santi’s frenulum as he swallows now and then.

The noisy static in his brain fizzles out as Santi’s dick fully inflates. His jaw stretches slowly in a welcome ache, and the scent of him is so heady and overwhelming as he shuts his eyes, and Santi’s hand in his hair pets and smooths and everything is quiet.

Santi can’t wait until the next time Frankie’s restless.

#Happy birthday Adi I love you sm I'm kissing you so hard #frankie morales x santiago garcia #gift fics

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turtle-steverogers · 11 months ago

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HEY SO

what would Steve's art style be?

We've seen some of it, but what's his go-to? How does he start his drawings?

OMG ARTIST STEVE UNLOCKED

SO!!!!

personally, i think he goes for more... realistic works when it comes to his more deliberate stuff? like when he's sketching bucky or his friends or memories of his ma. however, i think his art is really really raw. lots of smudged lines and firm strokes. i always imagine his linework is really prominent and his colors are really bold. lots of tones in the skin and he doesn't shy away from using a sort of lack of blending as a way to make things more prominent, in some areas.

on the flipside, when he's drawing/painting to vent, i always imagine it to be a little more abstract. like he's taking his brain and smudging it on a page. it's not as direct, but no less bold than his other stuff, but i think it's harder for people that aren't him to interpret or understand, because it's so thoroughly drawn from a darker place within himself.

i also think he likes to kind of draw people, as they are, out and about. strangers in a coffee shop, the guy down a few rows on a subway. humanity, as it surrounds him, grounding him to the moment. to the present. it comforts him to exist within the human condition, and sometimes when things are rather bleak, on missions and such, he pulls out those more random drawings to remind himself what he's fighting.

bonus: i think he likes to draw little comics to leave around the house on sticky notes. a little cartoon captain america reminding bucky to please hang up the bath mat, a little pigeon that reminds them both to buy eggs on the fridge. little recurring characters that he's made up that appear in places all over the apartment, like little inside jokes with himself that make him and bucky smile when they find them

his art is an extension of his existence

#steve rogers #mikey answers #stucky #bucky barnes #mikey screams into the void

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stormcrow513 · 3 months ago

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Hey been awhile,

Around a year ago I wrote a vent post about how the crappy neighbors were moving out and king fuckface decided to take one last crap on us,

He'd had some guy mow down all their weeds then he walked around spraying poison aka weed killer all over the whole property,

which do to dickery and bribes to town counsel might as well be planted in my backyard,

The only space I can let my dogs pee,

I am so fucking sensitive to poison I got sick, ma got sick all my dogs were sick,

Bailey my oldest beautiful girl looked like it was going to kill her,

I ranted on here poured my grief and hate out,

Some of y'all saw me sent love back to me and prayers for my Bae,

And she started kicking it she was recovering,

I updated y'all and you were glad to hear it,

one of you even dm'd me later to ask if she was still recovering and I'd been able to reply a happy positive,

Which is why I felt like I had to come on here and let you know

Bailey died today,

And to thank you again for those prayers

I got one more year with her,

She was so amazing she stole one of my mas stuffed bears after like a day with us and would suck on it, she then stole two more, and would not except any additional bears we tried to give her, nope those were here three she stole them herself,

I taught her to jump into my arms,

She watched me squint at the TV and then started squinting her eyes at me,

She would get pissed off if you called her a dog, she was not a dirty dog she was a fur person

I could go on forever,

She was a tough fucking bitch we had to put her down because she absolutely refused to go,

she was fighting death every step,

I'm sure Deaths down a few fingers dragging her across the rainbow bridge while she claws and screams every obscenity I ever taught her,

While I have you,

some of you might remember me talking about the three sibling cats I'd gotten as kittens how the brother Ares had passed in 2019 then Shy decided to go out on the same day as the queen as was Shy right little Drama Queen,

Then it was just Mittens and she started to go down hill was losing interest in food so we got her a kitty I named Circe,

Well Mittens spited herself back to health cause fuck you kitten, and managed kept going through to the beginning of this year and then she just couldn't go on, she curled up in the worst fucking spot so I had to frag her body out after feeling that she was gone,

Like I said absolutely a spiteful shit,

I miss her so much, she loved being held like a baby, she acted more like a dog then a cat, she liked to sit on my shoulder, I have a scar on my shoulder where she got a claw stuck in it one time,

and she loved it when I had long hair shed get up high behind me after I'd showered and comb my hair with her claws,

As I was showering off the pee and poop after cleaning up,

I thought about writing this and ending it here with some kinda sign off,

but as I sat there my mind turning with the sear bullshit that not just this week but my entire fucking life's been,

My brain turned and raged,

You know I love animals way more then I like humans, while I do feel love and empathy towards humanity there are days like today where it's a hard thing and an easy thing,

because I read about Neil Gaiman sexualy assaulting women yesterday which makes me so sick,

But the vet that put down Bailey was so fucking kind,

I joke to people that I was raised by dogs,

It's not really a joke,

My ma has been the only human to truly love me,

My sperm donor Dennis is an absolute abusive joke of a human being whose still fucking alive and I have to live with him

My oldest sister is dead and while I think she loved me a bit she never watched out for me

And my second sister beat me, raped me, gaslit me fucking constantly, the real deal not the way people incorrectly use that word, and almost killed me a lot,

Ma worked constantly, still does, she is only now (as I'm beginning to talk about things) finding out just how often I was left to my own supervision,

But Lady and Tramp

And yes we had two dogs named Lady (German shepherd) and Tramp (husky/wolf)

They, took care of me Tramp even more reared me like I was his own,

I tussled and played with their puppies, grew up beside them

Watched Lady die when I was 7,

Rusty one of their babies my big brother ma and I buried together when I was 5 After Dennis threw rat poison around the house to kill the mice and killed Rusty

I watched Corky die and then Trampy and Sammy and then Rusty and Sammy's boy Socks

They were my family

Every dog and cat I've had has been my family,

And thinking about them all today

Thinking about this world we're all living in,

Something I want to say

There is no overarching Justice

No grand moment where evil men or women are struck down by righteous gods

Maybe that shit happened or maybe they were stories I don't fucking know I wasn't alive back then I'm alive now

And now, there are no saviors

There is just me, just you

And the choices we make

Martin Luther King Jr said something about how the long arch of history bends towards justice,

But he and people like him bent it towards justice with their bare hands and their very lives,

All we have achieved for justice for equality have been done by mortal living hands

And we cannot fucking give up

Don't listen to those people telling you it's hopeless that the world is evil

The world is beautiful

The stars, the rainbows, the thunder and lightning, the frogs so small they can sit on a finger nail, the mountains, mouse, geese, the castles and pyramids the things our ancestors created, ect

Hell the bit of plastic and wires and weird rock you are reading this on, isn't that cool,

Yeah there's downsides to it we need to figure out how to do it better,

We need to figure out how to do it better.

All of it.

And we will,

because we always do.

So don't listen to the people that say to give up that it's to late,

Just because they've given up doesn't mean you have to

I'm hurting I'm going to hurt for the rest of my life,

But I would not take a minute of it back not a moment,

My life has been full of pain but also full of love,

I wanted to die for a time, a long time,

But there is so much in this world to love,

I want to live,

I want to keep falling in love over and over again,

In love with animals,

the ones I adopted into my family

ones a half a world away,

Fucking platypus the most animal to animal,

The rain every fucking time it hits my roof or my head,

I hope I'll get a chance to fall in love romantically one day but I'm ok if I don't there's so much else to love,

And I'm going to fight The Fight for the rest of my life because all these things I love are worth fighting for,

I'm not in a position right now to do the things I want to but,

I can do some things,

I can do ofwoodandbones lost dog spell to help strangers get their lost pets back, which I've successfully done more then once,

I collect cans and recycle

I pour stale water out on plants rather then down the drain,

I planted a bunch of plants in my backyard bees fucking love

I vote, I vote smart and don't throw my vote away for a false sense of moral superiority,

Find something to love to love it hard and do what you can to protect it,

Doesn't matter what,

Everything matters,

Love shit, protect it,

Don't give up,

To all y'all who are my allies in The Fight,

May the great Titan Witch light your way, may you find your path or make one, may you love and be loved, may your body be strong enough to hold your spirit

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insecateur · 1 year ago

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I'll be standing tall (La Maison-Dieu)

A 10 songs bilingual Sycamore/Lysandre playlist (in honor of Pokémon X&Y's 10th anniversary)

(Unfortunately, I don't use Spotify, so you'll have to make do with this YouTube playlist or look for the songs yourself. But do look under the read more for Lyrics Excerpts and all of that.)

Why a bilingual playlist? Well because I'm a bilingual guy, for a start, and because my experience with Pokémon X&Y in general and this ship in particular has always been bilingual as well (even trilingual, arguably.) I wanted to put together some of my favorite songs in English for them and introduce English-speaking fans to some of my favorite French songs for them, too. A lot of those songs are songs I've quoted, mentioned, or even used as inspiration for art and fic.

(Why is Augustine on the English side and Lysandre on the French side? Because I thought Lysandre would be offended at the idea of being on the English side while Augustine wouldn't care about it as much.)

SIDE A: ENGLISH

Sunburn by Muse

He burns like the sun And I can't look away And he'll burn our horizons Make no mistakes

This is the classic, quintessential PRFR song for me. Its only crime is that it's het, sung from the point of a view of a man singing about a woman. That pesky little detail cannot stop me, however.

Without You I'm Nothing by Placebo (feat David Bowie)

I'm unclean, a libertine And every time you vent your spleen I seem to lose the power of speech You're slipping slowly from my reach You grow me like an evergreen You've never seen the lonely me at all

Do I even need to say anything about this? I listen to this song when I need to make myself Suffer thinking about them. Oh to be unable to bring yourself to say something about your beloved friend's downward spiral...

Hardest of Hearts by Florence + the Machine

Darling heart, I loved you from the start But you'll never know what a fool I've been Darling heart, I loved you from the start But that's no excuse for the state I'm in

My friend sent me this song saying it was about them and they were RIGHT. Shout-out to my friend for that. I like how it can be alternating POV, too.

Changes by The Happy Fits

I try to run away but I find myself, again Stuck in the same place Who will I be today? I can't control the world or change it

This one was suggested by @jonphaedrus and I'm really happy I could have its contribution in here as well. This is very meaningful to me.

Celebrate by Metric

Even the darkest hour soon will be over My friend, it will be over

I couldn't not put a Metric song in there! It was tough finding the right one... But I thought putting a more optimistic spin would be nice, too. I actually associate this song with SLaWCS specifically as well, which is a nice touch.

SIDE B: FRENCH

Pâle Septembre by Camille

Mâle si tendre Au début de novembre Devint sourd aux avances de l'amour Mais quel mal me prit De m'éprendre de lui ?

Did you know? This song is the reason why I associate Lysandre with the Tower arcana. Or at least, it's what put the idea into my brain first. This one is also a quintessential PRFR song for me.

7 Vies by Kyo

La vue est magnifique Contemple-la tant que tu peux La lumière alcaline Le bien, l'ennemi du mieux Tant que le temps défile Tout doit se vivre à deux Je pratique le langage des signes Et celui du feu

I think I should be allowed to include some more vibes songs in there, although I'd argue this one fits them well. It's a bit abstract, but it fits.

Tout donner by Maître Gims

Tu es ma maladie Ma guérison quand tu l'décides Mes nuits s'illuminent J'en confonds le jour et la nuit

A desperate, self-destructive pining song... What else could a man want in this world. It's very tasty. I think about those lines way too often.

Aimer à mort by Louane

L'espoir qui joue, le feu, le froid Un souffle au cou, baiser de roi Pour nous reprendre, pour nous défendre Pour se comprendre chaque fois

Another intense but more optimistic one. I want to believe... I want them to believe as well...

Rouge Ardent by Axelle Red

As-tu trouvé, dans les feux, dans les flammes Ton idéal rouge ardent As-tu froid As-tu peur de l'aurore Tu disais "tout s'évapore" Tu as eu tort

It's a song about being in love with a failed idealist. And also the color red is there. What more can I say. (Also, this time it's originally a het song from the POV of a woman singing about a man, which ties it all neatly together, I think.)

Happy 10th anniversary to all my fellow shippers, young and old, new and ancient, whether you were in the trenches with me back in October 2013 on this webbed site or you joined us in 2021 with the Pokémon Masters revival, thank you for loving them always. Here's to loving them more and more in the future, and here's to the Pokémon X&Y remakes as they become clearer and clearer on the horizon. (And maybe we'll get a Legends game, too? Wouldn't that be something...)

#pokemon #pokemon xy #lysandre #professor sycamore #perfectworldshipping #samart

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cloveroctobers · 1 year ago

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OCTOBER PROMPTS 🎃 — 9. Guero

A/N: im trying my best to complete my list for this fall season. In MY brain winter doesn’t start until December hits and winter isn’t officially until late December which blows my mind every time I look it up lol but don’t come at me X-mas lovers because I get it! just don’t bring that Holly jolly bs my way just yet 😉!!! Anyways missed my man so he’s next up for this short thing.

PROMPT is from HERE + I’m using: “Please, I’m begging you. don’t make me watch the nightmare before Christmas again.”

WARNINGS: language, family drama, mentions of violence, + slightly sexual content towards the bottom.

⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓ ⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓ ⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓ ⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓

“Fucking bitch makes me sick!” You huff as you flail the bed sheet up into the air for what should have been the fifth time.

Guero is smirking to himself, fresh out of the shower in his lounge wear, leaning against the doorframe that leads back into the bathroom.

You just got back from your outing with your sister-in-law and niece maybe twenty minutes ago but Guero figured things must have gone left when he heard you mumbling to yourself while he was drying off. He even called out to you through the crack of the door as he got dressed asking who you were talking to, since he didn’t see you on the phone and you didn’t hesitate to continue your rants.

“What she do this time?” Guero questions, knowing this tangent was aimed at your sister-in-law, since you only tolerated her and adored your niece.

Throwing the sheet against the mattress in frustration you whip around to face your boyfriend, “what doesn’t she do?! You know how she is.”

Guero nodded his head. He did in fact know how your sister-in-law was and he also didn’t care for her either—not just because you didn’t fuck with her but they got into a debate about guns that left a sour taste in Guero’s mouth. He didn’t have to engage with her much like you did but he definitely listened every time you vented that she annoyed the shit out of you…so in a sense she was still around him too.

He waited for you to continue as you began pacing now, “was I not tasked a week ago to get Ely her dress for the fall dance because her mother’s dumbass was too busy partying with her best friend of a mayor—who’s she’s probably screwing and my brother’s oblivious ass was too tied up with work?”

Eloise, or as you both called her, “Ely,” was your twelve year old niece that was just getting into fragrances and dresses—which was a complete contrast to her mother. It was no shock to you that her mother, Reagan put that off on you since she wasn’t the most stylish and didn’t really connect to her daughter in that way.

“Hell yeah you were,“ Guero said, “you were almost as excited as Ely was. What went down?”

You turned to work at the sheets again, straightening them out in the air and failing to get them to fit on the corners, “I go to this lunch date with them just to find out Reagan returned the dress! Said it was too inappropriate to wear to a middle school dance. And that I was trying to make Ely to look like a hoe since she’s already top heavy.”

Guero frowned, “the one you showed me a pic of? That little burgundy shit with the puff sleeves and flows at the bottom? I don’t get what was wrong with it? Ely looked pretty and happy in it.”

“Yes! Nothing was wrong with it! It wasn’t too tight or short. Reagan was all smiles when I dropped Ely off that night too, almost thankful that I got something done that her ass should have been doing.” You hissed and balled up the sheets out of frustration.

Guero stepped in then, gently prying the sheets from your hands to put the sheet on the bed correctly. It was something you mentioned on your first date that you were always criticized for not making your bed right as a kid so your potential significant other had to be down with at least putting the sheets on.

Childhood trauma was a true bitch…much like sister-in-law’s apparently.

Guero repeated, “So Reagan went and returned it?”

“Yeah and I think she truly did it out of spite because you won’t believe the dress she got Ely,” you informed with your arms crossed, watching as Guero put the sheets on with ease, “she’s gonna make my niece look like a pilgrim at that dance.”

Guero glanced at you, “that bad?”

“And I told her straight to her face when she showed me a video, that the dress Ely originally picked out was much more fitting than that floor length dress. I wasn’t rude about it or anything.”

“Floor-length? Nah, that’s crazy. What she say after that?”

“That I wouldn’t know the first thing about appropriate wear considering what I wore when I first met you.”

Guero furrowed his brows, “fuck is she getting at with that? We met at the damn fair in hot ass Arizona!”

“Exactly,” you agreed, “the fact that she even remembered that back then let’s me know that she’s been keeping tabs on me just to talk shit and probably about me to Ely too but I don’t care! She can run her mouth all she wants but don’t try to take your insecurities out on Ely. That’s when it becomes a problem for me.”

Regan was a jealous person, you peeped that from the first day you met her unwillingly at your seventeenth birthday party. She barely let your brother mingle alone without interjecting herself into their conversations and this was after she was already introduced to family and friends. You knew she wasn’t the person for your older brother, Kelvin but he insisted on settling for her after getting his heartbroken by an ex who cheated on him and fell in love with his (then) best friend during their college years. He didn’t give himself enough time to heal right before he was back into another relationship with the very set in her ways Reagan. There was a five year age gap between you and your brother and sure you didn’t understand it all back then but you were always aware that your brother tended to love long.

As siblings you didn’t always see eye to eye and when he did bring his serious significant others around you were open to them opposed to him who gave yours the third degree. Just because you were his little sister didn’t mean you wouldn’t look out for him either. The moment you expressed your doubts of Reagan being the woman of his dreams, he decides he’s going to propose to her despite their heavy arguments of not being trusting of each other or really in love.

Eloise wasn’t far behind after the wedding if you connect the dots.

It was odd to you that you always got scolded for voicing your opinions on your brother’s well-being by your parents, that you were always expected to keep your mouth shut and just follow along but that same energy was not reciprocated when it came to Kelvin. He was the older brother, he was “supposed,” to set the standard for you but at the same time you would always be different people.

Funny how that turned out now with your parents not wanting to be bothered with Reagan but preferred your four year going strong relationship with Javier “Guero,” Bardales.

“She’s the fucken worse,” Guero says fixing his side of the bed after you retrieved the duvet from the bay window seat, “was the kid messed up about it?”

“Oh absolutely, it was written all over her face and you know how she shields her true personality away when her mom’s around,” you say then clench your jaw which would probably trigger your TMJ later but you continue, “I’m so pissed with Reagan. Of course kids can’t always get their way but you don’t have to shit all over their enjoyment because of your own personal problems!”

“Did you tell Kel about it?” Guero smacks the pillow against the headboard, already sensing that was a lost cause.

He was just waiting for the day that Kel kicked Reagan to the curb. Now listen, Guero wasn’t down with divorce, given that his own parents went through it and it resulted in lost time Guero got to spend with his own dad but…Guero actually liked Kel, although he gave him shit from the very beginning he walked into your life but they grew to actually like each other. Guero had his own fun and deep conversations with Kel, noticing that he was also most like himself whenever Reagan wasn’t around. And one thing about Guero, if he saw someone he cared about being held back by someone else? he was always ready to do something about it; especially if the person was capable but taking too long to go through with some action.

Guero was a actions kinda guy.

“For what? That’s like talking to a brick wall and I’d rather save my breath.” You responded placing your hands on your hips before a smile spread over your lips.

Guero stared at the wicked expression on your face, “…what’d you do? We gotta hide the body?”

You snickered and then let out a sigh, “That time hasn’t come yet but my breaking point is among the Horizon I fear.”

Here you go with the dramatic stare off into the distance for a moment that it has Guero jumping onto the bed to get to you. The anticipation was bugging him and you were well aware as you kept smiling at him.

Resting your hands on his shoulders you said, “I went back and repurchased the dress and snipped the tags off. Reagan’s going away that same day as the dance to some conference in D.C. so obviously Ely’s gonna get ready here instead with her little girlies and non-binary friends.”

Guero wasn’t thrilled about some pre-teens being at his shared spot with you but the expression on your face made him ignore that.

“That’s what I’m talking’ about baby! Fuck what Bride of Chucky has to say, you’re more of a mother to Ely anyways.” Guero hyped you up as he gripped the sides of your neck to place a kiss right in between your brows.

You brushed your shoulders off, “and if she finds out and decides to get buck with me, I got something for that ass. She just doesn’t know that I’ve been counting on the day.”

Guero knew you meant that too and that made him smile. He was never above violence, it was always fuck around and find out in his mind. He’s been by your side for four years now and knew it took a lot to drive you to that point but he always encouraged you to speak up for yourself too since it was always conditioned for you to keep it all locked in.

Not when it came to Reagan though and he knew you had it in you, hearing of the fights you got into in your teenage years (one story consisted of: aged sixteen banging some girl’s face into the pavement, a story your father told him about—and another : aged thirteen with you jumping in to fight some older guys that tried to jump your brother at his high school graduation party—just to name two of Guero’s favorite stories) and a recent road rage incident that happened two years ago which almost sent Guero into cardiac arrest.

So his girl was never no pussy, don’t let the face fool you.

Guero instigated, “I dunno…ain’t she on a softball team?”

“She was until she fucked up her rotator cuff.” You gave the man a dark stare, “you think beer muscles scare me?”

Guero snickered and put his hands up in surrender, “relax baby, I’m just fucking with you. No need to go assassin on me.”

“You want me to be one so bad.” You rolled your eyes as Guero reaches out to slip his hands over your hips.

He has no shame in his game as he nods his heads at you, “oh yeah, listen it’ll be the dream costume, huh?”

“You just want to see me in more leather.”

“Yeah I do.” Guero laughs before nipping your bottom lip.

You flick your French curls over your shoulder as you drape your wrists behind Guero’s head, leaning to brush your lips against his ear you state, “that’s just too bad, daddy.”

Guero let out a groan as you untangle yourself from him, hand going right to his chest, almost as if you just stabbed him while he flops back onto the bed. “Such a tease and these are the things I get when I just made the damn bed?”

“Oh the horror! Oh the bare minimum!” You joke as you plop on the edge of the king sized bed after locating the remote for the mounted flat screen, “that’s what you get for not being my bone daddy last year.”

Guero sits up on his elbows, “you’re still pressed about that? Baby I got enough art on my skin already, now why would you want to decorate this handsome face? Which is my best art piece.” He winks at you as you scoff at him from over your shoulder.

Shushing the man, you don’t grant him with a response as the movie begins to roll the credits and you start to bounce from side to side at the music.

Guero glares at the tv, “please, I’m begging you. Don’t make me watch the nightmare before Christmas again.”

Ever since late September hit, you started off with the light hearted fall themed movies first. This was your third time now watching the nightmare before Christmas and Halloween wasn’t even near! Now if Guero suggested watching something like, “Terrifier,” then you’d be ready to kick him out the house or go sleep at a friend’s instead.

“This is my comfort movie, let me vibe.”

Guero sighs, sitting up to sit beside you to glance at the screen before settling his eyes back on you. It had to be a good solid two minutes of Guero just watching you that even when you tried to grip his chin to face the tv again, he wouldn’t budge.

Stubborn ass.

“You know, I could be your comfort too.” He places his hand right on your thigh.

“Don’t worry you already are,” you say eyes still locked on the screen with your fingers holding onto his jaw, “if you weren’t, I would have been dropped your ass.”

Guero breathed out a laugh as he quickly gets to his feet and yanks you up, “Oh so like this?”

Before you can even process what’s happening, you’re being lifted over Guero’s shoulder just to be slammed right back onto the bed. “You’ll never be my Roman reigns.” You puffed out.

Guero kisses his biceps before turning his expression serious, “and he’ll never get to touch this belt, which will always be mine just so you know.”

You smirk up at Guero as he gets to work unfastening the belt on your low-rise jeans.

And when you’re bare, exposed to the fall chilliness in the air of your bedroom, you keep your eyes on Guero as he places open-mouthed kisses with his incredibly soft lips against your lower belly. He trails a feather-like touch against the side of your ass as he knocked your right thigh to the side so he can get better adjusted.

“Whatchu looking at me for? Eyes on the movie, remember babe?” Guero says with his lips right above your throbbing center.

His reaches a hand right between the valley of your pale pink sweater covered breasts to grip your jaw to tilt upwards instead.

You weren’t sure how this man thought you were supposed to be focused on the iconic film when there were so many sensations going on. From the light scratches of the copper leaves against the bedroom window, the softness of the moss colored duvet, the theatrics of the soundtrack playing from the classic animation film, and the firm but solace grip of a loved one’s touch…it was all just what you needed to get by.

⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓ ⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓ ⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓ ⛓𓌹*♰*𓌺⛓

Continue with my fall anthology prompts here.

#queued #mayans mc #mayans fx #mayans mc x reader #mayans imagine #mayans x reader #guero mayans mc #Guero Mayans #andrew jacobs #fall prompts #mayans season 5

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bullworthpunk · 1 month ago

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Just like father

Here it is, my first written work in maybe 6 years. It's a Tad Spencer chapter in the 'Young Volcanoes' series, which gives glimpses into the lives of the various students at Bullworth Academy. I hope you all enjoy, let me know what you think!

Characters: Tad Spencer, Gord Vendome, Vance Medici

Summary: Tad, already not having the best day, runs into his parents in Old Bullworth Vale. After a small conversation, his mother mentions he reminds her a lot of his father. One of the worst things you could tell him, he becomes distressed after hearing the remark and completely shuts down. His thoughts become intrusive. Is he really that much like his father? And if he is, what does that say about him?

TWs: Tad refers to the physical abuse he receives at the hands of his father multiple times during the chapter. Please be warned!

It was chilly outside, even for an autumn day. Tad Spencer wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck, shivering from the cold. By God, why did I let Gord drag me here, he thought to himself.

His best friend, Gord Vendome, had been dating the greaser Vance Medici for quite some time now, much to the other preppies’ chagrin. Everyone with a working brain knew the preppies and greasers were sworn enemies, divided by their class and wealth. The preppies were among the richest people in Bullworth, their fathers ran most of its businesses or were the lawyers defending said businesses when they were inevitably revealed to be exploiting their employees. Meanwhile, the greasers lived in the run-down New Coventry district, riddled with homeless people, graffiti and crime. A place no self-respecting preppy would dare set foot in outside of the occasional turf rumble or spot of vandalism.

And yet, Gord had. And look what he had gotten out of it. After last year’s little adventure with Lola Lombardi, one would think Gord had had his fill of poor people. But clearly, he had not. After a particularly grueling fight with his father, who had once again insisted on his son becoming a lawyer while Gord wanted to go into fashion, he had taken a walk around town. Gord and his father had a comparatively good relationship, better than most of the clique had with their fathers, but they constantly bickered over Gord’s future. Annoyed and needing to think, his friend had sat down on a bench to ponder, when he was approached by Vance. What had begun as Gord just needing to vent to someone, ended in a reluctant friendship, that then evolved into a relationship. Which is what led to this moment. Gord wanted his friends to be more accepting of his relationship with Vance, like the greasers had – begrudgingly – accepted him. They had not been very forthcoming, however, so Gord had decided to try and convince them one by one. Tad, as Gord’s best friend, was first on the list.

They had been drinking coffee at one of the little coffeeshops in the shopping district of Old Bullworth Vale, Gord and Vance merrily chatting away with Tad trying his best to join in on the conversation. It was a Saturday afternoon, but due to the cold, few people were actually out and about. Nobody of note would see Tad spending time with a greaser, so that made him feel like he could relax a little. He had found that Vance was not so bad, but he was afraid they just might not have much in common.

‘So, Vance, would you mind telling me a bit about yourself?’ Tad asked politely, accent on full display.

‘Uh, well, I live with my grandparents. My pa is in jail and my ma ran off when I was four. They’re great, so I work at the movie theater to help them out with money ‘n stuff.’ Vance smiled at Tad warmly, which made Tad uncomfortable. He dealt badly with receiving affection.

‘Isn’t Vance simply dreamy. He is so incredibly kind,’ Gord said, looking at Vance with admiration in his eyes. Tad felt nauseous.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t want Gord to be happy, mind. He just could do with a little less public display of affection. Then again, Tad might have just been feeling jealous. He didn’t have anyone in his life he could show affection to. And even if he had, his father had taught him that there were certain expectations from someone of their status with regards to public behavior. It was poor taste to behave like lovesick schoolgirls when others could see you, that much Tad had learned. Not wanting to think about his father and hypothetical relationships, he decided it would be best to think of an excuse to go. He had enough of greasers and love for one day.

Rising to his feet, he once again wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck, flicking a speck of dust off his Aquaberry sweater. ‘Why, Gord, Vance, I must go. This was very enjoyable, but I have other things to attend to.’ He smiled politely at Vance, leaned in to give Gord a quick hug and started to walk away when he suddenly heard a voice call out. ‘Tad, darling, is that you?’

He froze. He recognized the voice as belonging to his mother. Which only meant he was not far behind. He reluctantly turned around to see his mother walk towards him from where she stood in front of the Aquaberry store. Indeed, the man that was his father walked up right behind her. ‘Son,’ he said simply, giving a small nod.

‘Hello, father.’ Tad felt all the strength leave his legs. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Gord tense up, looking at the Spencer family, completely on guard. Vance looked confused at his boyfriend’s sudden change in behavior.

His mother, ever oblivious to her surroundings, enveloped her son in a hug. ‘Tad, dear, it has been so long since I’ve seen you. Why don’t you ever come and visit, we live in the same town!’

‘Oh, mother, you know how busy I get. I have been so caught up in my studies.’ He tried to ease the tension by waving a hand in the air and trying – and failing – to force a smile. His mother knew very well why he hardly ever came home and why he chose to stay at Harrington House most of the time. She was just very good at pretending otherwise. Tad didn’t necessarily think she approved of his father’s treatment of her son, but she was as obsessed with the Spencer family image as her husband and so it was easier to pretend nothing ever happened. ‘Roughhousing’ is what she called it. ‘Typical boy behavior.’ Once, during an evening event hosted by the Harringtons, her friends asked her how Tad had gotten his most recent black eye. She had told her friends Tad had accidentally caught a baseball in his face during a training session between her ‘two boys’, neglecting to reveal the actual reason he had a black eye was because his father had learned he had lost a boxing match against his friend Bif. No love was lost between his mother and him, but she treated him with more kindness than his father, and he took the small victories wherever he could find them.

‘How are your studies?’ his father asked him bluntly, shaking Tad from his thoughts.

‘V-very well, father. I am top of my class in English, math and history.’ He felt even more nauseous than before. Please, father, let me go.

‘So you are not at the top in your other classes?’ said his father, ever the pessimist.

Gord chimed in at that. ‘He is second-best, Mr Spencer! And he is giving many of our friends a run for their money in the boxing ring!’ His father seemed to soften a bit at that. Thank you, Gord. He could kiss his friend for saving him.

Mr Spencer looked at Gord and noticed Vance sitting next to him. He eyed the greaser like he was something nasty he had stepped in. He looked back at his son. ‘Very well. Keep up the work, son. You know I will not tolerate failure. And you and Gord might need to reconsider who you are spending time with. It would not do for us to be associated with the vermin from the wrong part of town.’ His eyes contained an icy glare. Tad whimpered. He was still shaking, but no longer from the cold. That was a threat, and he had better believe his father would act on it.

‘I will, father, thank you.’ He would have to apologize to Vance later, but right now he needed to get out of this conversation without angering his father.

‘That’s my darling boy! So much like his father, ever the go-getter!’ his mother said. The color drained from his face, hearing that final comment. She gave him one last hug, before she and his father walked off. Tad had seen her move in to hug him, at least. But he had not felt it. He felt nothing.

As soon as his parents had turned the corner, Tad’s face fell. He began breathing heavily. Like my father. She said I am like my father. His mother’s remark kept spinning in his head. He faintly noticed Gord grabbing his hand, trying to make contact with him. Tad stepped away, flinching, and instinctively covered his face with his hands. ‘No!’

‘Tad? Are you with us?’ Gord spoke calmly, kindly. Vance, known for being the biggest empath among the greasers even outside his own clique, had caught on what was going on and tried to move towards him. Tad could not have that. He could not let anyone get close to him.

‘I-I… I must go. Yes, I have to… Yes, go.’ He could barely form coherent sentences. He turned around and walked away quickly, ignoring Gord and Vance calling his name. He needed to go home. To safety.

The walk to Harrington House was short at the tempo Tad walked, but he wouldn’t have noticed. His mind was racing.

Like my father. I am like my father. My mother said I’m like father. I am like father. It was a mantra. Memories flashed before his eyes, vivid as if they had happened yesterday. His father stood before him, knuckles bloodied. Tad was on the floor, nose bleeding and left eye throbbing. Tad could not tell what had happened before, so many nights were spent the exact same way that he had trouble remembering all the details of every incident. ‘Daddy, please!’ he remembered pleading. His mother was crying at the dinner table. ‘Are you telling me I deserve what is happening to me, son? What do you know about the business I run? You foul, miserable, little shit.’ A kick, Tad struggling to get up, another punch in the jaw. Cries of ‘daddy!’, sobs from his mother, growls from his father. Like my father. I am like my father.

By the time he reached Harrington House, silent tears were streaming down his face. He brushed right past Parker and Justin, who turned to greet him but fell silent upon seeing his expression. He ignored Derby calling for him from the sofa and walked up the stairs to his room. His safehouse. He spent all of his nights here in this room. He did not dare go home if he didn’t need to, while his assigned dorm room was filthy and one he had to share with Casey from the football team, a big oaf of a guy that had no concept of what it meant to be clean. His room was his safe haven. In it, he did not need to be anyone other than Tad. He could drop the accent, he could be free from the expectations of his peers. He did not have to pretend to be old money, he could enjoy partaking in hobbies that were not fit for someone of his status. Most of all, he was safe from his father.

He locked his door and paced back and forth, hands in his hair. Like my father. I am like my father. He looked at himself in the mirror. He had his father’s eyes. His hair color. His small build. I am like my father.

His mother had been right. He remembered the last time he was in a fight. It was against a greaser, Ricky or Lefty or whoever. He had been so filled with rage. He had been punching, kicking, whatever it took to take his opponent down. He had seen red. It had felt like he needed to go the extra mile to ensure his survival. Like this fight was a matter of life and death. When he had regained his senses, the greaser was completely knocked out on the ground. His face bloodied and bruised. He had not looked unlike Tad himself usually did after facing his father’s wrath. That proved what his mother was saying. He was like his father. Just as violent and full of hatred. No regard for the lives of others. Did not blink at the thought of beating someone into submission.

He was going to be sick. He ran over to his sink and threw up. I am like my father. Wiping his mouth with a sleeve, he leaned against the wall and slid down, pulling up his knees under his chin and rocking back and forth. I am just as violent as he is. When I have kids, will I be the same? I have hurt people, too. He was terrified of his father, and he was convinced his children would be terrified of him. He had beaten that greaser to a pulp. Who’s to say that wouldn’t happen again? He cried softly. He could not block out his thoughts. I am like my father.

He did not know how long he had been sitting in the corner of his room, rocking back and forth, completely consumed by his thoughts. But he looked up at the door when he heard a soft knock. That was Gord’s knock. He had a knock he only used when knocking on Tad’s door. When he didn’t want to see other people and wanted to be left alone, he would know it was his friend outside, and he could decide whether he would let Gord in or not. That way, he wouldn’t accidentally open the door to his other friends and be forced to think up an excuse to lock them back out. ‘Tad? Are you in there?’ he heard Gord’s voice.

‘Y-yes,’ he replied faintly.

‘May I come in?’

Tad nodded silently, then said ‘yes’ when he realized Gord could not see him.

The door opened slowly and in walked Gord. With Vance. Tad did not need that. Vance could not see him like this, hiding in the corner, curled up like a child, crying. The greasers would surely find out and that would ruin his reputation. That would definitely anger his father. ‘Gord, for the love of God, can’t you go somewhere without him for once?’ He sounded more angry than he had intended. I am like my father.

Gord ignored the remark, walked to Tad and knelt in front of his friend, grabbing his hand and stroking it softly. That seemed to calm him down a bit. ‘He insisted on coming, Tad. He told me he knew of a way to help.’

He looked up at Vance, eyes red from crying. The greaser looked at him. Not with pity or condescension, like he expected, but with understanding. He let Gord drag him to his feet. ‘H-How?’

‘Mio dio, Tad, I told ya my pa was in jail. I know a thing or two about dads not being dads. I hated hearing my nonna say I looked like my pa. I am nothing like him. But I didn’t believe that for a long time. C’mere.’ He took Tad’s hand and walked him in front of the mirror.

Tad didn’t want to look. ‘Please don’t make me.’ But Vance was unrelenting. He gently guided Tad’s face towards the mirror with a finger under his chin. ‘Look.’

Tad once again looked into his father’s angry eyes. ‘I look like my father. You have seen the man, you can tell.’ He felt sick again.

‘Do you? I don’t think so. Look again.’ Tad did so hesitantly. Vance put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Ya might think ya look like your pa, but I don’t see it. Look at your eyes. I only ever seen your pa once, but his eyes were cold, Tad. I almost wanna say evil. You don’t look evil. You are warm.’

Tad kept looking at himself. He focused on the eyes in his reflection and slowly but surely, his father’s icy, unrelenting glare turned into Tad’s own red, swollen eyes. Aside from the obvious fact he had been crying, his eyes did look a little warmer. Maybe Vance was right. The color slowly returned to his face and he got a bit of strength in his legs back. I am not like my father, I don’t look like him. He turned away. ‘Thank you, Vance.’

Vance grinned. ‘Anytime. A buddy o’ Gord’s a buddy o’ mine. The next time someone tells you that you look like your pa, look at yourself in the mirror and focus on the way you two are different. Ya will start to believe it at some point. Ya hafta trust me.’

Gord, feeling it was time to insert himself back into the conversation, walked up to Tad and hugged him tightly. ‘I am so, so sorry, Tad.’ They both knew Gord wasn’t the one that needed to apologize, but he appreciated his friends words nonetheless. Gord always made him feel safe. And Vance’s words rang true. It was sage advice.

‘Maybe Vance isn’t so bad,’ Tad said, smiling. ‘You are kinder than most of your friends.’ Vance blushed at the compliment.

Gord looked uneasy. ‘I am glad you think so, because we might need your help smoothing things over. We kind of rushed past them to get here, but Derby and the other chaps aren’t too keen on having a greaser in Harrington House.’ Vance rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

Tad chuckled. He still felt a spot of disgust when he glanced back into the mirror. Fear of his father, of being like his father, was something that he would carry with him for the rest of his life. But he recognized more of himself in his reflection. Maybe, with time, he would start to see Tad. Until then, he was glad to have Gord by his side. And he might have made a new friend as well. Vance wasn’t a bad guy. In the end, they had more in common than Tad thought.

Tad remained at Harrington House the rest of the day, in his safe space, with Gord. They had gotten Vance out via the window and apologized with a little white lie to Derby, who luckily didn’t press any further. They talked about Gord’s latest plan to get into fashion school without his father finding out, and watched one of the many musicals they had bought together over the years. Little by little, Tad felt better. Gord stayed with him in his room until Tad fell asleep. That night, Tad Spencer went to sleep without bruises, without fear, and a calm smile at his lips.

#tad spencer #vance medici #fanfiction #young volcanoes #bully #bully: scholarship edition #canis canem edit #rockstar #gord vendome

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bad-at-living · 1 month ago

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warning! definitely accidentally a vent! none of this really makes any sense cause i was crying. accidental vague references to sh

sometimes I get things stuck in my head like you get songs stuck in your head except they aren't songs. right now i have this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59087686/chapters/151188253 on ao3 stuck in my head. its called "the view from halfway down" (minus the quotation marks). its very sad but i can't stop thinking about it so i have to read it agin to get it un-stuck. wish me luck. update from after i finished re-reading it under the line (may contain spoilers, i don't know yet). i don't really want to cry right now but i have to read this, its out of my control. after all i am always the root of my own suffering.

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somehow the first chapter of this fic hurts more after you know what happens in the second. all these things he says end up falling through or getting fulfilled. i think the fact that someone cared in the end hurts more. it builds onto my whole "i can't hurt myself because if i do someone who cares about me will suffer and it will be all my fault and i will be the bad guy" it should be relieving to know somebody would cry over you but instead it just feels like a weight that makes me feel more. not necessarily feel worse or feel better but just feel. but feeling anything right now is worse than feeling nothing. i desperately want to be missed but i don't want people to feel bad either which is impossible because missing someone is a negative feeling. i just don't get why the idea that someone could miss me makes me feel terrible despite the fact that my biggest fear is being forgotten/alone forever. maybe its the idea that it could/will get to a point where its so bad that the idea that people love me isn't enough to keep me tethered to the living realm. i think what really hurts is that i know at least someone would cry over me in some capacity similar to him but it wouldn't be the same. i need to know someone would do that for me before i go but i worry having someone like that and knowing they would cry over me would make me stay. i don't want that. i don't understand myself. the one person i would stay for if they called never liked me in the first place and it was all a sick joke to them. the one person i want never really existed the way i remember them. it hurts because i relate to both of them even though mine isn't actually dead. but it really feels like it. i did lose a whole person that day. what hurts even more its that these fuckers could have been something but we couldn't have, after all you can't get married to a string of text messages. but only because they were written by somebody who was nothing and everything like that. i don't get to text the person i lost like he does because they one: aren't dead, two: never truly existed at all. it hurts because no one is ever going to text back and you know it. being an atheist sucks when you don't get to have any sort of hope about what's after death. one discrepancy is that he doesn't text his every day, he doesn't text him like he forgot about him being dead. "how could you forget someone being dead!" when you wish they were alive so bad your brain decides to forget they're dead as a coping mechanism. he should be sad he doesn't get a response but not because the other guys dead but because he's so deep into dissociating and denying that he thinks the others simply just ignoring him and now hates him. if i lost someone like that i would text them every day without fail i would just have to. the hurt comes from the fact that my pain is considered less because no one actually died but maybe a little bit of me did inside. i was too busy being angry at the real you to mourn the you i knew to grieve correctly so now I'm just stuck in a mix of all seven stages at the exact same time. for ever. my stomach really hurts right now. maybe its trying to distract me from my brain. it isn't working cause now i just hurt even more. nobody else will ever grieve you with me because nobody else knew you. and now the sobbing im doing hurts because of the ribs i bruised trying to stop myself from sobbing over something else. and now i have heart burn. I'm tired of suffering but i don't think i could do anything to make it stop long term that wouldn't cause even more suffering short term.

everything hurts.

for hopefully some context to this madness its referring to a time someone put their number in my locker and catfished me for over a month over text, knew things about me i had only told my friends (like my favorite music artist), sent me memes i literally had saved on my phone (either they were a friend i had sent them to or they actually just had a similar sense of humor to me and still did this terrible thing which hurts cause like how would someone so oddly similar to me do such a terrible thing). eventually i found out they were cat fishing me and they told me that i was crazy for thinking anyone could ever love me and that i was unlovable. so it feels like someone i knew died because they simply ceased to exist in my world.

#vent

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charleslee-valentine · 1 year ago

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Hand in hand, two little boys walk down the dusty Texas backroads.

They’re almost identical, except the boy with the wine colored birthmark across his left cheek has his choppy hair in a tiny braid, while his slightly taller brother, who is like his mirrored opposite, has his dark brown hair hanging loose and messy.

The tiny baby they carry with them, in an old potato sack with straps attached and holes cut in it for his legs, looks almost the same, though his hair curls are different, and his top lip permanently curls up to show his gums and budding little teeth.

Just the three of them are running away from home.

It’s hot, but it’s always that way out here in the middle of nowhere Texas, even in the pitch darkness they’re currently navigating. The twins have grown used to it, their priority mostly giving the baby a bit of water on his head every now and again to keep him cool.

That, and one of them, the twin that walks a little more stiffly, and carries a knife with him everywhere, just in case, his goal is to make sure they aren’t being followed.

Every few feet he turns and walks backwards, looking behind them at the long and dark stretch of road.

“Y-You sure does wor-worry a lot, there Nu-Nubbins.” The shorter brother chimes out of nowhere, though that’s not to say that he’s been quiet before per se. He’s been humming and singing and laughing at nothing the whole way, noises the way he shows his excitement.

The one called Nubbins speaks fast and frantic, like he’s desperate to be understood, “C-C’a’int help it, Bobby. A-Ain’t ya scare..scared?”

“Nope.” Is Bobby’s simple reply, his nose turned up high in the air with confidence that has his brother jogging for a moment to keep up with.

It embarasses Nubbins, to think that maybe he’s the problem. His twin is his idol, and he wants nothing more than to be like him. His little brain rationalizes that there’s got to be a reason why they feel differently, “It’s.. it’s cause you ain’t c-carryin’ the baby.”

But Bobby misunderstands what he means, “Yer’ scared ‘a lit-little B-Bubba?”

Nubbins takes it personally, bad at reading tone, especially over the sound of all the darned cicadas and crickets and katydids chirping away in the fields and trees they walk past.

“I w-wish you weren’t so me-mean to..t-to me.”

And now, caught in a cycle, Bobby takes that personally.

“H-Hey now listen p-pipsqueak. I ain’t mean. I-I’m the best brother. Th-The best.”

If it wasn’t for baby Bubba snoozing on Nubbins’ chest in the homemade bag, he’d have turned and started picking a fight with his brother. Meanness and hatred and spite are all they know. Bloodshed and mayhem and hiding under the bed from their big brother. Squeezing their eyes shut and crying so so quietly while they listen to their twin being beaten just across the room, or down the hall. It didn’t matter. Violence was everywhere.

It’s why they’re leaving now. Nubbins feels kind of bad for thinking about tearing out Bobby’s hair in patches, or biting him on the arm, or kneeing him in the chest over and over and over ‘til he coughed up blood. Actually, really bad.

He looks over at Bobby, with his balled up fists, and reaches out with words, tries to make a connection from a different place, ‘cause he loves his twin. “Can..can you t-tell me what I-I oughta do?”

Bobby doesn’t need guilt to change his mind, he needs to vent. He kicks some dust up and punches the air for a minute, and then he answers all calmly, “‘Bout what?”

“I ‘unno. D-Don’ want Drayton t’ fi..find us.” Nubbins worries aloud. Usually he isn’t this nervous, usually he loves adventures! But this one is extra scary, and they’re only so small, and-

Bobby doesn’t share his fears.

“A-As if! You..You ‘n me both knows ‘at o-old fart won’ e-even know we’re g-gone ‘til tomorrow mor..mornin’ at least.”

“O-Oh alright… But..but if we get in tr-trouble I’m’a gonna be r-real ma-mad at’cha.” Nubbins threatens, a smile growing on his face as relief sets in. If Bobby says things will be okay, then they will. He just knows it.

“Deal.” Bobby agrees to accept his brother's future fury, quickly forgetting the topic and moving on to his next subject of interest, “Gimme..gimme Bubba!”

Happily. Nubbins takes off the makeshift baby carrier and helps his twin get into it, loosening the straps since Bobby’s got slightly bigger shoulders. Drayton always said that he was a parasite and sucked all of Nubbins’ life away when they were in mama’s womb.

Drayton would swear, with his fists or a broomstick raised up over his head, that that’s why he was so weak.

They work together to get the baby carrier in place, by now Bubba awake in there and reaching his chubby little hands up for attention. Bobby heaves him up by his diapered bottom and exclaims, “Shee-oot, B-Bubba’s gettin’ he-heavy!”

It reminds Nubbins of something else their big brother used to say. He was always commenting on Bubba's weight or making mean faces when the baby would steal a little fistful of food. That was always too mean for Nubbins. The baby was just that. A baby! Just a little six month old guy!

He loves him, almost as much as he loves Bobby, and wants to take care of him.

There’s just one problem. “How.. How we gon’ f-feed ‘im?”

Bobby thinks about it, skipping excitedly when an idea hits him, “I-I know! He-He really likes th-them funny lookin’ p-purple berries that grows by.. behind the gas station! O-On them little bush-bushes! A-An’ Drayton’s always s-sayin’ ~get the-them things out yer’ m-mouth boy!~ an’ make-makes Bubba spit em’ out! B-B-But we can fee-feed ‘im as many as..as he wants!!”

All that rambling inspires Nubbins.

They’ve gotten this far, why not! It’s up to them to seize fate and leave behind their isolated farmhouse. They won’t let little Bubba hurt the way they have.

“Y-Yeah alright!! Just.. jus’ gotta f-find some!”

“I-I th-think ther’s some dow-down by the str-stream!!” Bobby remembers, taking his brother by the hand, and taking off running.

#tw child abuse #nubbins sawyer #bobby sawyer #chop top sawyer #bubba sawyer #drayton sawyer #tcm 1974 #texas chainsaw massacre fan fiction #ficlet #added a tw to this one since it’s a kid fic and even though it’s canon I know it’s rough readin bout kids getting hurt #also.#y’all. look up common moonseed berries. for this to make sense. I’m sorry-#there are about three endings we can go for. they get caught and have to go home. they eat the berries. or they live happily ever after #lettin the people choose cause I didn’t wanna pick one ending

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zeeposting · 6 months ago

Text

tired eepy rambler wamring very long and not good spelling I'm tired how do I add this in why isn't it working :( YAY I DID IT :D I'm so tired.

eaipugapbjnlkwe43uo3thfqww; keyboard= asmh

im tired

typing feels weird like my fingers feel heavier or something idk how to explain It

oh my golly gosh every time I blink like. not manually it feels sliike the lights fligkcerd like huh why do my eyes do that

im so tired yet hardly tired at the same time

my typing is so bad (sign of eepy) Im tearing up a bit I think (either sign of eepy or I got an eyelash in my eye) but also I don't really feel all that tired. but I am tireed

i wanna go home but I KNOW my parents are gonna be talking for SO LONG so I'll probably go home at 10 or something

i wish more of m friends were open to talk I want to annoy multiple of my friends like I wanna talk

im rambling but ioh well

irihhherrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr pok uhhh what happening idk

maybe its home time? no I don't think so :(

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee I just wanna hold my finger on one key I'm eepy

dude I forgot to write. LAC is postponed again, sorry gator you and the actual characters are going back to the "I always forget them" side of my brain oh my golly I coulda written more camp of keys!! except I have no idea where I'm going with that. uhh think think thinks what is this Pepsi ad??? anyways uhh.... what could hppen that would make sense.... maybe uhh... maybe wait is Ella going with them?? I don't think so. yeah no. okay so maybe storme says something and Clarissa basically goes back to depression mode?? but what would bring her back there. maybe Leah just starts getting all sad. and that makes clarissa sad. dude what if like I had an eepy story that I wrote more of every time I was eepy. like. no typing corrections, no thinking about it in the day, just every night when I think "oh I'm kinda eepy" I continue the story suighs I don't like having praces

bee Kay have it your way. you rule!

i want to write scroll and Quill lore but I don't at the same time. like I want to write it all out but also I have like no idea how that would work I have like half of it figured out what happened on that day I dunn!!! i love scroll and Quill sm like dude I justwant to hold them and talk to them and idk I just love those little gay freaks so much I love them and their lore and everyone involved in their story

when someone tells me they like one of my characters I have to draw thme nore tlike especially one o y friends like ryu ryu likes floe and that's why I'm gdaing globe so much more fonten because I want to make ryu happy like I just want to make my friends happy I don't really care about myself I just want them to be happy. i tell my friend that she can spam me jer worries int he private chat of this ma and her because I want her to feel btert, I don't really care I just want her to feel better.

m yypung is so bad because I'm so tired I guess but I don't really feel like fixing it. sorry I can translate in the morning but no ones gonna read this because who actuallycareas

i mean maybe ryu but like.why idk. maybe Milly. man idk

this is gonna turn into an acicnela vent or something but idrc I'm just tired ok??

tbh I don't feel like a good friend lately. idk o don't feel like elaborating but I do

in science we got to play jeopardy and the team names were so stupid

Jackie Likes Pencils, TikTok Rizz Party, Skibidy Stephen, The Billy Bus, Team Chicken Leg

(yes all of those are spelt properly I made sure of it. yes it was spelt skiidy ask inki.)

guess what team was me, inki, Ezra and ratthew comet? haha. team chicken leg. SOWA CREWMA!!!!!

man I'm tired. like eepy. super epy.

i love rue so much shes just a cute lotel pony and like she sjst so cute and I love her so much shes oh my gosh I miss Chico he's so cute and silly and goofy and funnyand I miss him.

i love my friends sm thank you

friend I wont name #1, bubblez, inki, Ezra, ryu, Milly, kit (asktrianglesblog rn), Abb, rabbit, friend I wont name #2, sapp, Ollie, zoe/fishy (I don't remember sorry) I love you all so so much

i want to cry a bit. so lets yap about something happier

should I make another character. yes

im thinking TANA melatonin for some reason. no not them stop it. dude I love TANA so much especially mug and battery and valentine they're so cool I cant wait for the actual thing to come out. or for it to come across my path idk if its actually gonna be a thing okay hmm what objects are around.

what abotu a gouwer. no that's basic plus I already have night. eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee why si this kids bday party football themed dude you don't like football at least uve never said anything about it at least around me???

what aib0ut uhh.. random object generator help

yk I don't have a lot of characters with names that end in uy! so. hmm jammy. like a jar of ja,. what jams are there I don't think iev ever had jam

plum han!! jammy!! !rhehe silly. any pronouns. just a silly guy.

look at her shes so silly and so funny I love her already I don't want to give her lore she's just a silly farmer that makes jam and she gets soopu eepy like me when she doesn't have his jam beucae I said so. he's my eepy character. my ltiel eepy friend. I love him already just a silly farmer wait should he have a love interest? NO. aroace jammy. #aroacejammyforpresident2024

im rambling so much but I don't want to put on a keep on reading because do I care no. read to learn about jammy. lol what if someone read it as jimmy. Jimmy jammy. hheh,o orphan in black?? tv what are you talking about who is that.

oh no someone approaching AAA!! haha other side of the couch they are. why is my batter on re dnoo oh yeah hour 54 left

dude I knew I was gonna leave at 10 its 941 nd I'm still here.

jammy is so cute I love them so much. I should draw them more

hegegehe happy jammy

i don't like that noise :( loud

dude in so tired I'm fighting the urge to say dude in every sentance

what is arm lasseration? dhters a guy and he's a police guy or something familyy friend and he just got a call thing on the walkie talkie II and uhh he said "ooh lovely!{" "what" "arm lasseratioin" what does that mean.

ohh its like a cut. it breaks the skin. okayyy!!!

im gonna draw sad jammy because I feel like it :(

i love drawing on my d=touch screen computer its so fun

i fee like jammy should be my comfort character like I love them somuhc they're just my eepy gal

jammy no your half filled with juice jammy you need more jam your gonna die!!1 of EEPYJNES!!

aww look eeping jammy I love them so much I keep saying that but I love jammy they are a part of me I drew eepy jammy because I want to go jhome and sleep and think about scroll and Quill I don't think I'm gonna read tonight because I'm so tired and its interesting but dude I'm so tired I wanna go to sleep :(

i know I'm talking way too much but I don't care I'm eepy. there you get your keep on reading because I guess its too much

jammy I love you

i just wanna hug jammy and go to sleep in a /p kinda way I love them so much

dude jammy is just so cute I love them they look so huggable

OMG YAY HOME TIME!! YAYAYAYYAAYYA CHCRPUHOSUBWH:OU SCREMASS GINALLY HOME HOME HOME TIME YAYAYAYAYYA I'm so tired I want to sleep yeah that's all for this.

pleas draw jammy guys I love them.

dude I'm gonna look a this tomorrow and be so concerned

honk mimiii honk mimiii goodnight

#rambling #long post #jammy #jammy my beloved

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