#made shitty art books last time so

[batwynn]

All four books of Accidental MerDer are now in a single PDF on my Ko-Fi! New cover!

108 pages! 😱

[puppyeared]

save me old flipnote studio MVs.......

[zweiginator]

omg escort!reader and divorced!art is so well written you are an artist… i need to know what happens when she gets back from hiatus🫢 maybe she is taught to not reveal too much personal stuff but art is just so desperate and lonely that she caves… maybe she gives him the most intimate and passionate blowjob of his life and he’s so pathetic because he hadn’t gotten his dick sucked in like two years and it’s so good that maaaaybe he cries a little…

art calls one more time, exactly a week after his first one. he asks politely to the woman on the other end, your boss--is she back yet?

and just by the breathy desperation in art's voice, she knows who is calling. who he wants so badly.

"look--she'll give you a call when she comes back. i'm not sure when that is. you may hear from her before i even do. are you sure you don't want to book a session with another girl in the meantime?" she explains that there's another girl who looks a little like you.

"that won't be necessary." art takes a sip of his gin and tonic. "i'll wait for her."

she sighs, lets it go. tells art to have a good night and art wishes her the same. but his head sinks into the pillow, the bitter curl of gin still on his tongue and he wonders where you are.

three days later you come back. your boss had flagged you down when you came in to talk money with some of the other higher-ups.

"hey, a client of yours called a couple times while you were out."

you plunge the applicator of your lip gloss back into the sticky tube.

"really? who?"

"guy named art, i think he said. sounded like you really made a lasting impression."

art. of course you remember him. dirty blond hair with salted white strands around the crown of his head. sunken in eyes that turned boyish when he smiled, although the wrinkles around his eyes revealed wisdom, experience. the smell of musk and tobacco radiated from him like the cradle of his body heat.

"long time client?" she asks you.

"no. just once." it surprises you, that he cared so much to call.

"you must've made a good impression." she winks.

your heart sinks a bit when you remember how you forgot the money. that maybe he only called to urge you to pick it up, not wanting to be caught up on the bad side of a system like this one.

so you go to his hotel room. you remember art telling you he was taking a break from tennis, that he would be staying at that hotel down by the highway for as long as they'd let him.

and art is watching shitty reality television when he hears a knock. your knock. three open-palmed bangs and art is opening the door in an old t-shirt and cotton pajama bottoms. somehow, he looks even better than before.

"hi." a smile creeps up. a big one.

you blush and look down at your feet. that's so unlike you. "hi. im back."

"please, come in. i'm sorry." he ushers you inside and latches the door. "i was about to make a gin & tonic. you want one?"

"no, thank you. i heard you had called the service about me?" you sit on the desk chair across from the bed.

"yes--I" a pause, like he's trying to really gather himself. "i'm sorry if that was inappropriate. you forgot the money and--I just really wanted to see you again. if i'm being completely honest."

you try to hide how your face contorts, disappointment as art mentions the forgotten cash, bliss as he admits the calls were to ask for you.

"here i am." you scoot forward. "not inappropriate. i promise, you're much more respectful than most of the callers we get."

art asks to cradle you in his lap again and you oblige. you like to feel small with him, and he likes to feel strong and protective and push your hair away from your forehead to kiss you there. it all feels so much more intimate than sex could ever be.

"have you been feeling any better?" you ask art.

he ponders, and then nods. "yes, actually. since meeting you ive felt better."

"good. that's good." you latch your lips under his ear. "i thought about you while i was away."

blood rushes to arts face. "really? in what way?"

"i didn't pleasure you at all."

art pulls your face close to yours. stares at your lips and the dip of your cupids bow.

"you did pleasure me."

one of his hands cradles your head, the other resting on the top of your thigh. you grab him, making his fingers trace up your torso, your throat. and then you suck his fingers into your mouth. you swirl your tongue and let the spit drool out of you and make a mess.

for the first time, art groans. it's guttural and surprises you. the both of you. because it came out involuntarily, a dormant beast that the warmth of your tongue pulled out, inch by inch.

a twitch under your ass. he's hard. but the skin of his fingers is so, so soft. regardless of the callouses on his palms from tennis rackets.

"i want to make you cum."

this vocabulary. this depth of conversation, of laying each other out in the open and digesting stories and vulnerabilities is not your job. using such straightforward verbiage is not your job. your job is to be pretty and be used and be paid for it.

but this isn't your job right now. because art never paid you, and you still haven't brought up the $800, although you saw it in an envelope with your name in small, capital letters, blue ink.

you're not his escort. no, right now you're his lover.

art tilts your chin up. "do whatever you want to me. even if it hurts me, i'll want it."

and god, he's so fucking ridiculous with those puppy dog eyes and furrowed eyebrows. pathetic but in a way that made you want him to use you even more. but he won't.

you untie his pajama bottoms.

"do you want me to make you cum?" you yank them down, along with his boxers.

"yes. fuck. yes." his erection slaps his stomach and he's long. pink and wet with pre-cum; it looks just as pathetic and needy as he does.

you wrap your hand around him.

"pretty, pretty cock." you stroke him, pretty painted nails wrapped around the length of him. "so hard. god, i bet it feels so good to be touched like this."

it does. god, it does. but art can't speak. his mouth hangs open because you're touching him like it means the world to you to do so. so, so, slow. intentional how you feel the ridges of him.

he closes his eyes, just for a second. but then he misses seeing your face, how it mirrors yours in terms of pleasure, even though he isn't touching you at all.

his eyes open to see a glob of spit falling from your lips as you stare at him. his micro-expressions. he nods.

"do you want me to get it nice and wet for you?"

you already have, bubbly spit warming his cock so nicely.

"yes. please--"

the sounds of you touching him are louder now. he hasn't been touched like this in so long he feels like he may just cum right now. spill into your hands and apologize profusely. tell you he isn't usually like this.

but then he feels your lips. a soft kiss to his tip and he groans. instinctively grabs your hair and you open your mouth all the way for him.

"fuck my throat." you say it so sweetly, his erection still in your hand, ghosting over your mouth. tempting him.

"i dont want to hurt you."

you bat your eyelashes. "fucking doesn't necessarily mean fast or hard. fuck me how you want to."

he wants to worship you. he wants to feel you from the inside out. but he'll take this.

he holds the back of your head and tells you to tap out if you're in pain. as if he forgot the nature of why you're here. you kind of have.

you nod and you're drooling for him. over a year of doing this and you've never felt your heart beat so assuredly. knowing that you want him more than it's healthy too. that this is more than a contract between seller and buyer.

he pushes in. slowly, inch by inch and your eyes water. he holds your hand tightly and you squeeze him back. you're completely still. you trust him all the way as he fucks your throat slowly. his spongy head hits the very back of your throat and every movement makes art whimper, moan, swear. it makes you wetter than his hands being all over you. just pleasing him. he deserves it and so much more.

"fuck--you look so pretty. taking all of me. want you to take everything i fuckin' have--"

his hips stop moving, they stutter. and you pull off him, opting to do all the work yourself. it's messy; spit drips between his thighs and you kiss his shaft up and down. kitten lick him, worship him. softly stroke him and tell him you want him to cum, you want him, you want him.

it's not a lie, but art wouldn't care if it were. hearing the words makes him cry, makes him finish, makes him pull you onto his lap as he's still coming down. to hold you close. you wipe his tears and stay all night.

[houseofripley]

HEYY

Can you do a rhea x fem!reader story where rhea and reader are in Highschool and have both had feeling for eachother for the longest time and both haven’t confessed but all that changes because rhea ask reader to prom and they end up kissing and it leads to something else (ifykyk😏) (smut n a lil bit of fluff too🙏)

Starry Prom Night

Rhea Ripley x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT, Kissing, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Scissoring, Praise, Cheek Cupping & Kissing Galore, INSANE PLOT BUILDING FOR NO REASON LOL SORRYYYYYY IM A YEARNER (im serious this is like 67% plot building)

WORD COUNT: 3,731

A/N: this is just pure sapphic yearning on my end LMAO anyways anon i had so much fun writing this even though its all over the place!!!

also can you tell where i got impatient with all the plot building lol

“Rhea, I seriously don’t know how many more of these cheesy signs I can’t take. I think I’m gonna go insane.” You grunted, rolling your eyes to the back of your head. 

Prom season was in full swing. It was third period and you had just witnessed what had to have been the seventh promposal of the day. This year would be the mark of your and your best friend, Rhea’s senior prom. Senior prom was a date thousands of dreamed about, wanting to show up and show out one last time before waving goodbye to their highschool years. 

Every girl except you and Rhea. You both despised the thought of prom. Why would any sane person spend hundreds of dollars on an outfit just to spend their night drenched in sweat in the school gymnasium? 

Fuck that!

“Romeo O Romeo! Will thou spend your Saturday night with I, drinking punch next to the locker rooms?” Rhea mocked, elbowing your arm. 

You shook your head, pressing your lips together trying to keep your laughter silent. The commotion of classmates was soon drowned out by thoughts as your eyes met Rhea’s, causing your tightened lips to curl into a small smile.

Rhea’s blue eyes never failed to warm you. Everytime you gazed into those beachy eyes you were brought back to the day you first met the girl. Seventh grade, first period, language arts. A quiet blonde girl sporting a Pierce The Veil shirt was assigned to sit next to you. Nobody knew anything about the girl besides the fact she had just moved basically across the globe. You spent the entire period thinking of what you could possibly say to her, because what do you even say to a kid that was just relocated from South Australia all the way to some shitty suburban town? 

“Cool shirt.” 

And it fucking worked somehow. You were immediately attached to her hip. The two of you grew closer with each day that passed. You were inseparable. She was everything to you. Sleepovers every weekend. ‘Study’ sessions that were spent play fighting with each other. Singing pop-punk songs at the top of your lungs till your throats were raw. Dying your hair the same shade of blue at three in the morning. She was even at your side while your parents scolded you the morning after for said blue hair. 

Jesus Christ. Lost in her eyes again? Snap out of it already! 

“Yo, Alice in Wonderland, you okay?” Rhea playfully questioned, breaking your trance by poking at your thigh.

“Just…thinking. That’s all.” You softly chuckled. You were telling the truth, you were just thinking. Just thinking about her. Thinking about her touch, her hands, her pierced nose, her lips, her stupid cool shirts. 

══════⋆☆⋆══════

“Jesus, someone’s eager to get out of here.” You laughed, trailing behind Rhea who was booking it over to her small black Lexus.

“Dude, can you blame me? It’s like everyone has some sort of prom fever. I am not letting it catch me.” Rhea complained, ducking into the vehicle. 

You made your way to the passenger side of the car before hopping into the seat next to Rhea. “I counted eighteen of those damn signs today.” You babbled, resting your arm on the center console before trailing on, diffusing the topic, “Anyways, let’s go thrifting or something. I don’t wanna go home.”

Rhea shrugged in agreeance before pulling out of her parking spot. She knew things were tough for you at home. You had recently come out as lesbian to your parents. They weren't unsupportive but they weren't exactly supportive at the same time which had built quite a bit of tension in the household. You came out to Rhea just about two years ago, who was more than supportive. She was your number one defender, always there to threaten whichever classmate that dared to ridicule you.

You knew absolutely nothing about Rhea’s sexuality. Hell, even Rhea knew nothing about her sexuality. She only knew one thing, that she liked you. She didn’t even know when she caught feelings for you, it was like the sentiments were there since the moment you first spoke to her. She hoped as time went on the flutters she’d feel for you would pass on but recently she couldn’t seem to even push the mere thought of you out of her head, it was killing her.

The drive to the nearest thrift shop was comfortably silent…silent if you ignored the Black Veil Brides cd Rhea had blaring…

Entering the store the pair of you let out scoffed laughs as the first thing catching your attention was a large display of second hand dresses. Shaking it out of your heads and ignoring it at first you carried on to wander the isles, grabbing whatever caught your eye to try on later although you’d inevitably end back up to the racks of long dresses. You weren't a big fan of dresses but you wanted to waste as much time as you possibly could, so you decided to browse the gowns with Rhea. 

She pulled a deep maroon dress, the form fitting glittered bodice was paired with a looser, more freeing skirt. “Try it on!” Rhea pushed, shoving the dress into your arms.

“I’d look so stupid in this.” You gave Rhea a bewildered look.

“Oh c’mon just try it!”

“Rhe’ when have you ever given a shit about this stuff?”

“Dude you’re the one that wanted to waste time here…” Rhea playfully scorned, diverting your question.

“Urgh, I hate when you’re right.” You huffed, shuffling towards the dressing room. 

“How ridiculous do I look?” You pouted, opening the door of the changing room before shuffling to the closest mirror.

Rhea stood behind you, peering over your shoulder as you silently studied yourself in the mirror. You looked at Rhea through the mirror as she opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself in her tracks. “I mean it’s cute but where in the world would I wear this?” You shrugged, adjusting the straps as Rhea chewed on her cheeks.

“Wear it to prom.” Rhea timidly broke her silence.

“Why would I go to prom, Rhe’? First of all it would be so lame and second of all I’d have nobody to go with. I’m just gonna put this back.” You mumbled, turning to make your way back into the changing room.

 A hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “Go with me…” Rhea blurted out, sounding scared of her own words. Her statement caused you to turn to face her with a puzzled expression, Rhea herself even looked surprised at what she just said. Fearing your rejection she quickly added on, “Ya know, like as a joke and stuff. We can make it not lame…”

“As a joke?” Your heart that was skipping beats just seconds ago was immediately let down. 

“Yeah. It’s just a stupid idea we don’t hav-”

“No, let's go…as a joke.” You interrupted Rhea’s nervous deflection. “We’ve got nothing better to do.” You shrugged on watching Rhea’s anxieties fade into the distance as her classic cheeky smile crept upon her face.

After you swapped out of your dress you returned to Rhea who was holding up a silky black dress with a deep slit in the skirt. “This’ll work. I’m too lazy to try anything on.” She chuckled while shrugging.

“That's ballsy Rhe-Rhe.”

══════⋆☆⋆══════

Tonight was the night, you were sat atop Rhea’s bathroom counter, finishing up your makeup while Rhea was shuffling around her closet searching for a pair of shoes. It had been four weeks since Rhea ‘asked’ you to prom and you simply couldn’t keep your mind off it. Although you two planned this whole thing as a joke, something shifted ever so slightly between the two of you, maybe it wasn’t a joke, who knows. Rhea had your heart in your throat at every moment and you were the topic of every thought that popped into Rhea’s head. More than ever the both of you were head over heels for each other, just terrified the other wouldn’t reciprocate those shared feelings.

Your parents were completely unaware you’d be attending prom. You had informed them you were staying with a friend before immediately storming off to Rhea’s house. Rhea’s parents hadn’t a clue either, they were under the impression tonight would be just another night of the two of you doing nothing for hours then sneaking out to go for a drive at three in the morning. There truly wasn’t much reasoning behind this secret, you guys just wanted to have this night for yourselves without pestering parents. 

“Urgh! At this point I’m gonna go barefoot!” You could hear yet another pair of shoes be tossed to the floor. You slid off Rhea’s counter, stepped out of her bathroom and over to her closet. She was already in her dress tearing through a pile of shoes on the floor. “What has gotten into you Rhe’?” You leaned against the doorframe laughing at the fact that Rhea of all people was stressing over shoes. 

 Rhea rolled her eyes ignoring your banter. “Would it make me a hipster if I wore converse?”

“Oh absolutely, I dare you!” 

“You know I will,” Rhea retorted, picking up a black pair of the canvas shoes.

You chuckled before turning to return to the bathroom, letting Rhea know you were gonna change. You got into your dress with ease up until you came to the zipper on the back. You groaned in annoyance, reaching behind to your back attempting to wiggle the zipper to no avail.

“Rhe’, can you help me real quick?” You asked while popping your head out the door.

“Hm? What’s up?” Rhea turned around and questioned before making her way up to you, trying to keep her gaze from falling down to the hand placed on your chest, keeping the dress from completely slipping from your body.

“Zippers stuck,” You pouted, turning around. Rhea’s hand swept across the base of your neck, sweeping your hair to the side. You watched her through the mirror as she began fumbling with the metal, ultimately getting it to slide up your back.

After an awkward exchange of bashful looks the two of you finished getting ready in each other's company. You sat next to Rhea slipping into your shoes while she tied off her converse, took a handful of polaroid pictures together, then eventually snuck out Rhea’s window to begin your hike to the school.

══════⋆☆⋆══════

“Ouu! Ripley’s got a date!” Was whistled out by a classmate as you and Rhea made your way down the congested hallway, making Rhes roll her eyes.

“Shut up dickhead! We’re here as a joke.” Rhea rebutted, flipping the guy off as she carried on down the hall. 

Here as a joke but her flushed cheeks and sweaty hand gripping yours told a slightly different story.

“Dickheads always running their mo-” Rhea muttered, stepping into the crowded gymnasium.

“Shh. It’s fine, you shouldn’t worry about them.” You cut off Rhea, giving her hand a squeeze as you examined the starry night themed room. The area was dimly lit by blue leds and strings of fairy lights. Blue curtains decorated with paper stars draped over the majority of the walls while an array of tables adorned with bottles of fairy lights surrounded a dance floor full of teenagers.

You both seated yourselves near the stage where a live band was playing. Your legs pressed against one another as you fell into an array of conversations. Thirty minutes had managed to sneak by before your meaningless conversation was cut short by your biology teacher.

“You girls gonna sit here and chat all night? Go dance!” 

“But dancing is lame, Mr. Brown.” Rhea groaned while you both turned to face the man.

“I promise you that in ten years you’ll regret not doing anything at your senior prom. Seriously, go dance!” Your teacher stood behind you giving his words of advice. Rhea peeked over to you looking for your opinion. You gave her a ‘why not’ shrug before rising from your seat.

“But I don't even know how to slow dance.” Rhea whined to herself under her breath as she stood up. “If we have to dance, we’re dancing in the corner cause I’m gonna look stupid.” She stipulated.

You guided Rhea over to a secluded section of the dance floor near a wall, reassuring her that you also had no clue on what you were doing. 

“We’ll just do what everyone else is doing, Rhe’.” 

“I think this right,” Rhea unassuredly giggled with a racing heart, taking a hold of your left hand while wrapping her free hand around your waist. You shook your hair to cover your flushing cheeks as you brought your right hand to rest on her shoulder. The pair of you began swaying to the music while trying to hold back laughter, both in slight disbelief at your current situation. Prom was the last place either of you ever expected to be attending.

You were already trailing back into the pit of those sapphire eyes, drowning out all external noise you missed Rhea humming about how beautiful you looked. You were too occupied taking in the essence of your childlike crush to take notice of the grip Rhea had on your waist tightening. You were fully prepared to stare into those eyes all night, but Rhea was eager to run a risk.

A set of warm lips fell onto you abruptly, pulling you by the waist into a desperate kiss. All five senses rushed over your body, sending a rush of adrenaline through your bloodstream, placing you in awe too shocked to move.

Rhea forced herself to pull away, letting a sigh of relief out before the panic settled in, “Shit. I, god I’m so-”

Your thoughts had just now grasped what just happened.

This was a kiss that spent years in the making…you were not just gonna let it end like that.

Your hand slipped to the back of Rhea’s head, pushing Rhea back into the kiss, forcibly putting an end to her apology. She immediately fell back into your lips, closing her dilated eyes. While her tongue slid across your bottom lip begging to deepen the kiss, her hands slid up to cup your cheeks. Time slid away as the two of you fell into each other in your isolated corner of the gymnasium.

Rhea pulled herself from your lips breathless, her parted lips forming an open smile. She wanted more. You attempted to collect your thoughts while catching your breath. Both of you were attempting to draft a response while gazing into each other, because what do you say after tasting your best friend of five years?

“Cool.” You nodded

Rhea shook her head scoffing out a laugh, still making an attempt to regulate her breath. She took grip of your hand, giving it a squeeze before beginning to pull you into the hall without speaking a word.

“Wher-”

“Just follow me!” Rhea cut you off, rushing through the halls as she dragged you behind herself, both of you trying not to stumble over your dresses. 

She halted in front of the nurses office before fiddling with the keypad on the door, “God bless modern technology,” She muttered, managing to get the door open as you watched in disbelief. “Don’t even ask.” She chuckled, scanning the hall to make sure you were in the clear before tugging you into the room.

Once Rhea’s foot forced the door shut her lips directly got to work pinning themselves to your neck, nipping at the delicate skin. 

“Shit Rhe’, there might be cameras.” You pushed through a stunned whine. 

“There's none…” Rhea couldn't even pull her lips away from your skin as she spoke, “Wouldn't stop me either way, I’ve waited too long for this.” She grunted, dragging her kisses to your collarbone. “Now please tell me I can keep going.”

“I don’t think I could ever tell you to stop.” You pulled Rhea’s face to meet your eyes, whispering your confession. There was no need for Rhea to open her mouth, the look on her face alone told you that was exactly what she needed to hear.

“You have no fucking clue how long I’ve waited for this.” Rhea growled, grasping your cheeks as she pulled you over to the nurses twin sized treatment bed. 

She brought her legs to straddle over you, lowering her chest to hover over you. Rhea was attached to you like a dog, her lips were sloppy against yours as her hands snuck to pull up the skirt of your dress. 

Rhea brought herself between your legs, in a rush to finally get a taste of your core.

“Please…I’m begging you, please don't make me wait more than I already have.” Rhea looked up at you pleading.

Your heart was in your throat as you fervently nodded. “I wanna hear your voice,” Rhea begged, whispering out your name.

“Rhea, please just do anything, I need, I need you.”

With that said she hurriedly slid your panties down your legs, tossing them to the foot of the bed. Rhea was making it clear that tonight was her time to shine.

“Fuck, you’re perfect…” Rhea murmured, awed at the sight of your soaked cunt. Her arms tangled themselves around your legs. After years her tongue finally made contact with your delicacy, she preached a string of curses, finally getting what she was after. You propped yourself on your elbows to catch the sight of Rhea exploring your brand new world. You could feel a smirk between your legs as her eyes met yours, thirstily watching you watch.

“Tastes so good.” Rhea praised, sweeping her tongue through your folds before bringing herself to round your clit. You chewed on your cheeks to hush the moans escaping your throat as Rhea wrapped her lips around your sensitivity, allowing her to lightly suck at your skin. Your legs made an unsuccessful attempt at wrapping around Rhea’s head only to be overtaken by her hands, prying them open, giving her full access to devour your aching heat. 

The stealthy addition of two fingers into your emptiness was only amplifying the wobbly knees her mouth alone had created. Her fingers began steadily massaging into you, causing an arch to form over your back. The mixture of Rhea’s roaming tongue and grinding digits already had a knot forming in your stomach.

“Fucking Christ Rhe’, where the fuck did you learn all this.” You struggled out through moans. Rhea let out a soft chuckle as she continued to take your clit into her mouth, rolling her tongue piercing over your sensitivity.

Rhea gave your cunt one last kiss before she brought herself to face you. Now that Rhea had finally gotten a taste of your mouth she couldn't get enough, she had to return for more. Your lips once again blended together, your moans now slipping into Rhea’s mouth as her fingers curled inside your core. 

“God, you sound so beautiful.” Rhea admired, pressing her warmed forehead against yours while her digits continued toying with your clenching walls. Her thumb was soon added to the mixture of pleasure as it rubbed rhythmic circles over your bud. 

“Rhe’, I want to feel you against me,” You opened your eyes, pulling from her kiss while your hips rolled against her working digits. “Please.”

Rhea nodded, her eyes full of adoration, she’d do whatever it took to please you no matter if it took minutes or hours. She let her fingers come to a declined pace before withdrawing from your warmth. She stood up, licking her fingers clean before riding her dress up her legs and dropping her panties. She rushed to return to the bed pulling your leg into the air before propping a leg of hers next to your hip.

Rhea settled her heat against yours, letting out a heavy breath. She gradually started rocking her hips against you, mixing your slick together. You watched as the new sensation of pleasure washed over her, causing her jaw to drop open and her eyes to roll to the back of her head. 

“Just…just like that.” You whimpered as you began to grind your hips at a matching pace, chasing towards your climax. Rhea’s arm clung to your leg that was situated in the air for support as the sound of quiet moans and the rustling of dress fabric bounced around the room. 

“Feels so good, fuck.” Rhea quickened her motions, moaning out the nickname she created for you through heavy breaths.Rhea pushed herself further against you chasing her own high as you squirmed beneath her grinds. 

“Rhe’, I’m gonna cum.” You whined out, reaching for a hand to cling to. Her hand met you halfway, instantly taking you into her grip she pulled you up to meet her face. She was back to those oh-so passionate kisses she could now never get enough of. “Please, Rhe’!” You cried against her, her movements bucking against your cunt.

Rhea nodded into your kiss signaling for your release, her own climax just seconds away. Your series of moans brushed against Rhea’s lips as your orgasm washed over you, hers quickly following. Muffled whines echoed around the room as Rhea’s thrusts against you faltered.

After riding out your highs together, Rhea squeezed herself next to you on the tiny bed and rested her hand on your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze. “I swear to god if you say cool.” Rhea looked over at you giggling. 

“Unfair!” You joked, resting your head against Rhea’s chest. You both fell into silence simply taking in the moment, reflecting on everything that had just happened. Rhea peppered small kisses to the top of your head as you toyed with the fabric of her dress.

“We should probably get outta here before somebody finds us.” Rhea suggested, breaking the silence.

“Wanna go dance again?” You teased as you turned to face her.

Rhea quickly shook her head, “I’m never gonna dance again. I was so bad.” She laughed, “How about we go find a parking lot and makeout under the stars, hm?”

“I seriously would have never expected you to be all smoochy, Rhe’.”

“Look, I have like five years of kisses to make up for!”

[tan1shere]

Slumber Party

Ellie williams x fem reader!

A/n: Hello my lovelies, first post on here (more active on wattpad) but thought I'd occasionally post here when I'm bored. If you have any requests at all they're definitely open! Also this is kinda short but I don't plan on making the next part as short. Enjoyyyy ☆°•

My masterlist

Summary: like the song slumber party. Ellie thinks she can treat you better then your shitty girlfriend

Warnings: smut, (not in this chapter) read at your own risk (mdni) Dom but soft, protective, ellie! Reader is quite innocent, is very soft also. Cunnilingus (duh- also not in this chapter) your girlfriend in this is an asshole. Abuse, somewhat angst, crying. Lmk if there was anything else!

Pt 2 here! ~ pt 3 here!

Ellie hated Isabel, your girlfriend. She treated you horribly, and Ellie really hated when you'd bawl your eyes out over the phone to her whenever Isabel would storm out of your shared apartment. She hated the fact anyone would make you cry. She never liked seeing you unhappy. Isabel shared this hatred. She never liked you hanging around Ellie, even if you have known Ellie almost all your life. She would scold you after everytime you and her would hang out. You'd come back to the apartment smiling. "What're you smiling about?" You just smile more happy to tell. "Ellie she makes the funniest jo-" "I don't like you being round her Y/n." You would always stare blankly at her, struggling to find the words, leaving your mouth open while you ponder.

Today was not off to a great start. Ellie had just been over, you two were having such a great time. "I should probably get going squirt." She would flash her smile at you, ruffling your hair slightly, as she stood to go to the door. Ellie was a bit older then you, and come to think of it so was Isabel. Let's just say you had a thing for older ladies. (Only by like 6 years) You also stand up, seeing her out and saying goodbye. But as you open the door you're met woth those dark brown eyes. Isabel had just arrived back from work. She glares at the auburn haired girl, making her way inside. "Well hi to you too." Ellie scoffs then looks at you. "Text you when im home." You give her a small nod and a smile before she leaves to her car. You turn around to be faced with a stern Isabel. "You know how I feel about her being in our home. Especially when I'm not here." You never really talk back to Isabel you always apologize and go into the kitchen to make food. She was truly a bitch and she started showing her true colors the moment you two moved in together. You never understood what you would do so wrong. You made every dinner. Every lil food she'd want. The laundry. Just to please her. And although it'd work, it'd never last. "I'm sorry Iz.. She just really wanted to show me this art she was working on and in person. Nothing more I swear." She let's out a scoff. "Why should I believe you it's almost every day you spend with her. It's sickening and pathetic." You stare at her as she says that. She would always make you feel stupid. When in fact you were quite smart you knew what most things meant. Maybe not so much bedroom stuff. But you were book smart nonetheless. Speaking of bedroom. You were basically a virgin. You've kissed Isabel many times done a lil something here and there but it was definitely not much. So you were certainly not confident on that subject. Although Ellie would tell you all sorts of stories about the girls she's been with. It fascinated you to learn all these new terms and what everything was. "I promise to talk to you before hand next time-" She instantly cuts you off. "Why are you still standing here. Cook, I've been working all day." She spits going to your guys shared bedroom. You sigh doing so. And that was your life.

It was maybe a couple weeks after, you had felt like you were coming down with something so you decided that bed rest was the best thing. It was now 3 in the afternoon. You were sleeping in your bed when the door busted open. "What the fuck are you still doing in bed it's almost 4!" Isabel was home and not happy. You sit up a bit. "Yes I know I'm sorry bu-" She drops her bags. "This place is a mess, there's dishes out. Foods not even ready. Laundry is still in the hamper. What fucking else." You look at her softening your look. "Iz, I'm sorry- I woke up feeling horrid so I decided to stay in bed." She shakes her head. "Even when I have the worst headache known to man I still get my ass up and work. You know all that sweet money, I work for that. And you work here that is your job." This was one of the moments were you'd feel bad for yourself. Weak. Weaker right now considering you're sick. You look down at the sheets. "Are you even listening to me? You spoiled brat." She doesn't do what she does next often but when she does you know you're in the shit. She hits you. Hard. "Wonder why I have a headache all the time. It's you and your whiney voice. Look at how pathetic you are." She glares down at your drowsy figure. You feel tears finally sting as you had held them in. Refusing to let yourself be so weak, but you give in. Feeling overwhelmed with emotions right now. "What the fuck are you gunna be like when I go away in a few weeks huh? You better keep this place spotless you know about the cameras. I'll be watching you." Yes. The oh so lovely cameras. They're only in the kitchen, living room and laundry. The only places you slave away at. "I will iz I promise." She hums. "I'll believe it when i see it. I needa go out and grab some stuff. Make sure dinners ready when I get back." She says before getting her keys and leaving. You then sob. Letting it all out as you shakily grab your phone going to the only person who knows how to comfort you. Ellie.

When she arrives not long after, giving a honk. You go outside and get in the passenger seat. "Off anywhere?" You shake your head. "No that's alright. I don't want to get yelled at.." Ellie sighs. "Bub, you can't keep letting her treat you like this-" "if I left I'd have nowhere to go Els.." She keeps looking at you. "Yes you do. Mine." You let out a small breath looking down at your hands. "Everythings so messy." She nods, even if you can't see. "I know angel but my offer still and will forever stand. I think you should take it." You just wipe the small tears forming at your eyes. "How was your day?" She hates how you change the subject. She always has. She wants to talk about it with you more. Comfort you more. "Pretty easy going. Do you want a hug love?" You shake your head. "Its best if you don't come near me right now-" "I promise it's not gunna affect me if you cry. You know that." You nod. "I know, but I'm sick- thats why she yelled at me.." She furrows her brows. "She got mad at you because you weren't feeling well? What a fucking bitch." You sigh, in the midst of a slight cough. "Angel you should go back in and rest. Let me help-" You immediately shake your head. "She'd know you were there. I- I couldn't risk that." You always felt awful. Not because you got yelled at but because she would want to pick a fight with Ellie too. Ellie was older then Iz too, more mature. Never bought into her crap. "I'll make sure she doesn't yell at you, you really need rest you work your ass off-" You stop her talking. "I don't want her to try anything with you Els." She shakes her head. "She won't. I promise just let me make you some soup and tuck you in. Please, just that." You contemplate whether or not you should but you nod regardless.

She was making the soup trying to be as speedy in hopes she wouldn't bump into Isabel. "Here you go. Say you made it for yourself. I also cleaned a lil." She sends you a wink. And when she says a lil she means the whole lot. "Els, you seriously didn't have to." She smiles gently. "No but I wanted to. I also made something else. Knowing grump would be hungry when she gets back." You look at her so thankful. "You have no idea how much I appreciate you." She gives you a kiss on the head. "Call if you need anything else. I love you." She says while looking in your eyes. "I love you too Els." You respond sweetly. Oh how stupid you were to realize how INlove she was with you. But she plans to show you sooner or later. As she's the one you should truly, be with.

[howtobecomeadragon]

can you imagine how annoyed will must have been? he's gay, in love with his best friend, filled with shame about who he is, but he loves mike, he loves mike with all his heart, and he knows somewhere deep down that he's good for him, that he can take care of mike and cheer him up when he's down, will can be there for him in all the ways that mike needs. because he loves him, because he wants to. they've been each other's best friends forever, since they knew how to make and have friends. they grew up together, and around each other's quirks and needs and insecurities. they know almost everything about each other. almost. except for the big secret. mike just doesn't know will's in love with him. but they know everything else about each other.

and then will's family has to adopt mike's girlfriend and will kind of hates her because she's dating the guy he loves, she's the reason mike is pulling away. but soon, with enough distance from mike, will figures she's not too bad. she's just some girl that's struggling a lot and will wants to help her, so he does. she's a weird sister now. she knocks on his door for help with homework sometimes, and she likes trying new foods, and sometimes she'll listen to music with him.

but between all those sister moments are moments of devastation and heartbreak sprinkled throughout the months. she gets letters from mike. joyce hands her a new letter and el's eyes widen and she smiles and runs to her room. and it feels like last summer again when she was stealing away every bit of mike then, too. mike's handwriting, the paper that he held in his hands, his words: all whisked away to el's bedroom, far away from will.

and will watches el, and wonders. if mike were to be with someone for the rest of his life, would it be her? is that who will would've guessed, after he got over that silly daydream that it would be him, that it could ever be him?

he pictured mike with someone who played d&d, although he doesn't know if girls play d&d. he pictured someone that would stay up late talking about wizards and goblins and elves with him. he pictured someone that would go to the arcade with them. like max, but not like max. someone that would build mike up, catch him when he was down on himself, build him back up, appreciate how much he cared for everyone.

when will did get a phone call from mike, he found himself wondering what he talked about with el. what they had in common that kept them so inseparable all these months, even as mike faded further and further from will. did el have that much more in common with mike? a couple could only talk about how much they like each other so much, right? that couldn't fill a letter all by itself.

he wondered and wondered, even as he imagined conversations with mike day after day, picturing mike as his chemistry lab partner and jokes they'd make in english class and mike's usual groans about the shitty cafeteria food. his head was so full of mike: ten years worth of what mike thought of this and how he would talk about that. he was so full of everything that made mike mike that will never ran out of things to say to him. in his head at least. things were weird on the phone. and mike was barely calling anyway.

so then mike is coming for spring break and will knows that he'll have to share that time with el, that likely she'd get most of that time, and he'd get barely any, judging by how things were last summer and all the letters she always got. but he has so much to talk to mike about: his painting, how much he missed him, how much he misses their friendship, a new fantasy book he read, a d&d campaign he thought up, his physics class, his cool new art teacher.

mike is there at the airport and will's chest is fluttering and mike looks so good and will has to swallow down all his thoughts and feelings, because it's too too much. mike hugs el, kisses el, and doesn't hug will. will feels kind of numb, like he's in shock by how mike is treating him, but maybe less surprised than he expected. it settles into him like an inevitability. he wasn't calling much, so why would he want a big hug?

el says it clear as day: this day is just for them. mike doesn't want to spend it with will too. because obviously will was wrong about what mike might want. he doesn't want a person who will play d&d, or talk about dwarves and dragons. el is exactly who mike wants, and will was just wrong.

but then. but then. will realizes as el talks: el's been lying. el isn't friends with stacy and angela. el doesn't go to rink o mania for parties. while they eat their breakfast burritos, she tells mike about her great math grade, even though will saw a math test sticking out of her backpack a few weeks ago with a failing grade on it. it's all lies.

and suddenly, will is annoyed. will wouldn't have lied to mike. mike hates lying. mike is still playing d&d. dustin told him so. el doesn't play d&d. mike talks about how he and el had a big fight, and will thinks about how they did too and how their fight wasn't one that they couldn't come back from. will watches as mike talks more badly about himself than he's ever done so before in the van, and wonders if he'll have to keep reassuring him for the rest of their lives, if el can't help him this much. because if el is lying, if they had a big fight, if mike is coming to him about these worries, then what do el and mike talk about?

he assumed that they talked a lot about liking each other, but they didn't even say "i love you" or "i missed you" at the airport. they don't talk about books or about hellfire club, which will heard all about from dustin and lucas. everything el said about school was lies. he wondered if mike knew about the night will found el crying about the failed math test, or about how will cheered her up or distracted her after getting bullied. what the hell did they talk about?

will tries to stop thinking about how he's the one who is perfect for mike, he really does. but it gets harder and harder to stop those thoughts the more time he spends around mike and el. he just doesn't get what they talk about, after the lying and the fights. he doesn't get it.

[tartrat]

More digital art practice (this time with Talia)

Kapyy gets a break lol

This is basically an attempt to make an avatar. I hated doing the camouflage so i just got rid of her jacket all together.

Also below is a crappy attempt at an alternative avatar. I originally wanted to try and base it off of the Midnights bodysuit but have it be sort of Speak now themed. Then i just gave up and made a weird rendition of her outfit from the final chorus of IKYWT, with a glitter brush that i had made in procreate. Eyes probably look a bit weird but just ignore that, this is really just a practice. I did not bother detailing the shoes.

Yes i reused the background from my last post

just really practice nothing much to it. I did actually do a few pages in my school art sketch book on Just Dance costume design, more on how songs are interpreted and made and oc based on the avatars. This reminded me of that.

My brother recently played through persona 4 golden, a game where they go into tvs, for the first time and the other day i realised that that’s what Talia does in the map for IKYWT. Basically Talia Sway is the Persona 4 Golden.

I headcanon that she has always been able to control tvs and project memories onto them. If she decided to channel those skills she’d probably be able to broadcast other’s memories as well as her own to a farther range. What says revenge on your ex by showing the country how shitty they are. The Wake me up coach deserves no peace.

They should do a remake of womaniser but it’s Talia, the One kiss coach and all the others that the WMU coach possibly cheated on hunting him down. Like Alex Newell’s performance of the song from glee. (Yes i think that the WMU coach has already cheated on the One kiss coach, that being if that’s who he cheated on Talia with)

Still trying to develop the headcanon that she and Kapyy are twins who were separated at birth. So far i have their mother as the giddy on up coach and that the dad would be from Cyberfunk but don’t know who he should be. I realised that the women in the family always have to deal with some bloke in Wasterra cheating on them so i think it would be funny if Talia tells Kapyy that if he wants to date a guy, to not date a guy in Wasterra, he takes her advice and quickly falls in love with a guy that he knows. I still imagine the two meeting shortly after IKYWT but i also imagine that their meeting also takes place at the same time as the events from Majesty, so these two weirdos in the junkyard are talking whilst everyone else is getting turned into Night Swan’s army. Can’t remember if i said that last part in my last post. I know that i want to include a few other coaches into this family drama but all i have is Si’ha Nova’s guard and Mothigan

Now how long is it before i draw Kapyy in the midnights bodysuit doing the vigilante shit performance? (I’ve already done a thumbnail sketch but need to adjust it a bit)

Also have this work in progress screen shot where Talia is missing half her face. The way i do hair is a bit weird though.

I’ll probably post the first drawing on twitter as i like it more than whatever i tried to do with the alternate version.

[liesmyth]

All your TLT posting is making me questioning if I should try it.. The only thing i'm worried is that I don't want to start a series and then finding out in the third bookthat the author made the antiheroic genderbent mao protagonist throw the metaphorical atomic bomb on the japanese because the author is an american descendent of a Chang Kai Shek general and wanted to absolve the yankees to grant herself a career (it worked greatly). So should i still try TLT as an olde commie? Love your blog btw, please continue reblog all those TLT fan art they look great! Thanks!

whew lowkey glad I couldn't get past the first book in that other series. anyway *clears throat*

If you like LESBIANS, Locked Tomb is the fandom for you. If you like BONES and FAILWOMEN and ARE ANGRY AT GOD, Locked Tomb is the fandom for you. If you like BAD JOKES and SHITTY MEMES, we have those in spades. If you love EXCELLENT FANART and DIVORCES that last TEN THOUSAND YEARS and LOCKED ROOM MURDER MYSTERIES, if you think EVIL COUGARS are SEXY, if you think PLUTO totally COUNTS as a PLANET, Locked Tomb is the fandom for you!!!!

[here's the rest of the tlt manifesto on ao3, podficced by @/wilfriede ]

On a serious note! I think TLT is definitely informed by leftist politics, and it has many themes that lend themselves to juicy interpretations on top of a really meaty worldbuilding and characterisation. Also the fanart SLAPS. And if you read the books you can check out my fics which, not to brag, are some of the weirdest I've ever written! featuring such tropes as: "bodyswapped man sucks his own dick" "vagina dentata" "ritual sex to have a baby during a mass death event" "in-universe academia" and "orphan girl meets her parents for the first time and they suck"

tldr please read the locked tomb <3

[chanyeolsbiggestfangirl]

hey!! Can I request a chanyeol fic, reader is fwb with chanyeol and is madly inlove with him, confesses to him but gets rejected then when she decides to move on, chanyeol realises what hes lost 🥺

Synopsis: You met Chanyeol in the final year of college by pure accident when your previous roommate moves out and he comes in his place. Being roommates with a college hottie has it's pros.... but also it's cons. Every moment spend with Chanyeol tangled between the sheets ignited something deep within you, deeper than just bodily lust. But the real question is, is it the same way with him? Does your smile pull at his heartstrings just the way his pulls at yours?

Pairing:- Chanyeol X Fem Reader

Genre:- Smut, Angst

Author's note: YAYYY THIS IS MY VERY FIRST REQUEST. THANK YOU SOO MUCH ANON FOR REQUESTING THIS! IT GOT ME SOOO EXCITED! I HAD A LOT OF FUN WRITING THIS. I TRIED TO KEEP IT SHORT EVEN THOUGH THIS HAD ME CARRIED AWAY. ALSO I AM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY :((

.... Sometime in late evening ....

It was a daily occurrence now, almost like clockwork. One of you would be having a shitty day (and that's mostly every other day) and you'd seek each other out.

Or rather, he would seek you out.

You didn't even enter the living room properly and he was already on you, his hand on your ass as he pulls you closer harshly, claiming your lips with a fervent need.

One of his hands took the books from yours and placed them on the table absentmindedly, his other hand squeezing your ass through the fabric of your jeans, all the while his tongue clashed against yours in a never ending battle for dominance.

It was exhilarating for him, for no matter how many times he'd have had you, you were always that wild, untamed brat that never quite bend at his will easily like the other girls who practically threw themselves at him.

You tiptoed as you tried to keep up with his kiss, giving him a run for his damn sanity with the way you bit on his lower lip, your moan was followed by his deep groan against your lips. Your arms were around his neck, fingers naturally tangling in his luxurious locks.

That was the way you guys were.

If someone would ask you what you and Chanyeol are, you would have no answer, absolutely none. You weren't together. You certainly aren't lovers. You were just two people who would seek each other out to let out your pent up frustration.

You still remember how it all actually began. It was the second last semester and your neat freak of a roommate moved out suddenly, and a tall and drop dead gorgeous giant came in.

At first you didn't give in to his advances, knowing fully well that Chanyeol wasn't the type to commit, wasn't the type to have something serious. But one drunken night and one taste of his lips was enough to convince you otherwise.

Outside the bedroom, you were roommates with completely different lives. Inside the bedroom, however, Chanyeol fucked you like he owned you, every inch of you. He was gifted at the art of the bedroom. He worshipped every inch of you like he cherished nothing more than he cherished you.

But you knew it was all a facade.

It was an unspoken agreement. No strings attached. Just sex. Nothing else.

Simple.

Or so you initially thought.

But every touch of his upon your heated skin, every kiss that took your breathe away, every word he uttered to you, it all built up into something until you realized that the reason why you can't go out with some other guy is because you're in love with the one who's interested in owning you only while in the sheets.

That jolt of harsh truth was what brought you back to the reality.

Chanyeol's lips leave your to trail a wet path down your neck, biting and suckling at your sweet spot on your neck, making you moan yet again.

Chanyeol always managed to coax moans from you like how one coaxes melody from an instrument.

You arch your neck, letting him have his way with you. You had little defenses when his lips and tongue and teeth made you lightheaded. He groaned against your skin, pulling you incredibly closer, grinding his hard length against your clothed center and gods, that almost made you see literal stars.

"Bedroom. Now." His deep baritone was laced with a needy growl, his hold on your waist turned impatient, tapping your thigh in a way to tell you to wrap your legs around him as he took you to his room, his lips finding solace in yours yet again.

Chanyeol let go of you lips only after your back hit the mattress, lips tracing a path downward, pulling your skirt and panties along and throwing them absentmindedly in some corner of the room.

What happened next is the same yet different for you. The same disregard for clothes, the frenzy of lips and tongue and teeth, his impatience in getting his hands on your bare skin. But even when the majority of these occurrences were the same for you, what was different was the way it felt each and every time.

His lips fervently mapping out your heated skin felt personal, his hands worshipping crevices; that even you don't deem worthy of attention; felt personal. When he ate you out like a man starved and made you come upon his skilled tongue, it felt personal. Each and every thrust of his girthy cock into your tight cunt felt personal.

They say to not catch feelings but how could you not? How could you not catch feelings when he whispered sweet nothings in your ear in his deep voice? How could you not catch feelings when he made you feel like you were something different, something important, and not just one of the many girls he sleeps around with? How could you not catch feelings when one smile of his could brighten your whole day? How could you not catch feelings when you beheld the passionate gleam in his eyes whenever he's doing the things he loves.

Time spent with Chanyeol tangling in the sheets was blissful, but that's exactly where the bliss ends and the harsh reality slaps. The sound of Chanyeol rolling off the bed, the light shuffling of feet, the rustle of clothes, oh and the final nail on the coffin, the sound of the door slamming shut as he leaves your room. All of it clawed away at your feelings. Whenever you get high hopes, Chanyeol slams the door shut on them.

It was getting exhausting, this cycle of mental torture. The fact that he probably fucked around with other girls and would touch and kiss and hold them the same he did with you. The fact that while these mutually agreed escapades meant nothing to him, they were the reason why you weren't seeing anyone else anymore. The final semester was coming to an end, and so was your sanity and patience.

You couldn't take the weight of the feelings locked deep in your heart anymore.

You make up your mind, deciding that you'll tell him, hoping against hope that his reaction would be affirmative.

"What if he doesn't reciprocate?", whispered a little voice in your head.

You pushed those thoughts aside, trying not to think of how exactly Chanyeol's possible rejection might effect you.

.... A Week Later ....

The past was repeating itself yet again when Chanyeol stood up from the couch he moment you entered and crossed the distance between you both, lustful intentions swimming in his brown orbs. He made to pull you closer, hand reaching out when you stepped back.

Unspoken questions were evident in his gaze, a slightly pained expression taking form in his eyes. You took that was an opportunity to speak, your voice low, your eyes on his.

"What are we, Chanyeol? What am I to you?"

Chanyeol's demeanor shifted at that, body going rigid as he pulled back the hand that was reaching out towards you. He underwent a whole change. His eyes went vacant, face going neutral and you were no longer able to read the expressions on his face, the emotions in his eyes.

Standing right before you was a man who couldn't care less.

He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest, "It isn't that deep. It's just sex, y/n. We talked about this."

The audacity. The mere audacity of this man, to shrug and cross his arms as if this isn't like the matter of life and death for you.

You took a step closer, your feelings replaced by bubbling anger, anger and pity, anger on how stupid you've been, anger on him, pity for yourself, pity for the pathetic situation you've got yourself in. While you were boiling up from within, tears had started to line the corner of you eyes with the way this conversation was turning out.

You tried to sound anything but broken, but your voice betrayed you. "You've got to be kidding me, Chanyeol! It isn't 'just sex' and you know it too!"

The tall man had the audacity to huff a humorless laugh at your words, and it further made your composure crumble. He ran a hand through his hair frustratingly, throat bobbing as he took deep breaths.

"C'mon y/n, don't be absurd. Or perhaps.. did you think that we are a thing? It was just sex, dammit! We talked about this. About not catching feelings. Don't be a child, y/n."

Ouch

That. That was perhaps the last straw for you, for you and the tears you've been holding back. They cascaded down your cheeks in a hot, salty trail and you let them. You were done trying to act like you were okay when you actually weren't.

Chanyeol stilled, taking all but one step towards you before you held up a hand, taking two steps back, away from him.

"y/n... please... I'm sorry. It.. came out wrong.. listen to me.. let's talk-"

"No."

You were done. After being trapped in an endless cycle of having nothing but one sided feelings, making a fool of yourself in front of this man who is brushing it off as if your heart isn't at your fucking throat, you were done. You still have some self respect left in you and you'll not do the mistake of letting him affect you this greatly again.

Pining Chanyeol with a stern look, you turned to your heel, running up the little distance to your bedroom, closing the door behind you and locking it. All of Chanyeol's half hearted pleas were put to a deaf ear.

You leaned against the door, your legs giving out beneath you as you sank to your knees. Back against the door, you pulled your knees to your chest, head bowing as you cried and cried and cried, the voice of Chanyeol's pleas fading and then vanishing entirely followed by a soft thud of footsteps as he left.

.

.... Three Hours Later ....

After an hour of crying, two hours of pitying yourself and stewing in your grief, you finally raise your head with a determined gleam in your eyes.

You were done.

So very done.

.

Sometime around 10 the next morning

"y/n?"

Chanyeol's deep voice reverberated throughout the apartment, getting no answers. He called out again, desperate and breathlessly this time. He had already knocked thrice on your door, three harsh raps on the wood that would wake even the dead.

Now that he was awake after a very disturbing sleep last night, he wanted to make amends. He wanted to talk to you. Just the mere thought of losing you; because of something he said in the heat of the moment without prior knowledge of how he actually felt; just that thought alone made him lose his fucking mind.

He took a deep breathe, readying himself, for what, he didn't know. He took out the extra pair of keys from his pocket, pulling out the one to your door, putting it in and turning it before he could second guess himself.

He gasped.

No

It couldn't be

He had braced himself for a lot of ways in which this situation could have unfolded in front of him and yet the particular way in which the things played out caught him completely by surprise.

The room, which belonged to you, was empty, save for the the bed, the table and the closet and the various drawers and other conventional things that were always there. All your posters were gone, all your favorite books were gone, every single thing that screamed your name to Chanyeol was gone.

He took unsteady steps towards the bed, grabbing the pillow that lay there. It smelled faintly of you, strawberry and vanilla. His breathe came in raspy pants as he wrapped his mind around what had happened.

You had left.

Left him.

Chanyeol sank to his knees and wept, tears free flowing from his beautiful eyes in angry torrents.

.

A very much requested Part 2 of this

Masterlist

Wanna Request a Fic?

[elexuscal]

Murderbot Diaries Book Summaries

The release of the 7th book in the Murderbot Diaries series, System Collapse, approaches in November!

I've seen at least one person looking for a summary of past events... So I've made just that! If it's been a while since you read previous books (or you just like hopping into series half-way through), this will get you up to speed!

That said, this absolutely has spoilers, so if that's not your jam, turn away now.

====

Short Story – Compulsory: A recently-rogue Murderbot decides on a whim to rescue a miner who falls into a ventilation shaft. We see its developing love of Sanctuary Moon and what is implied to be the first time it violated its orders to protect someone.

All Systems Red (ASR):

Murderbot is the contractually-obligated security guard on a survey of "surprisingly nice" scientists. Dr. Mensah particularly impresses Murderbot for her level head and kind nature. It turns out their survey is being sabotaged by the cut-throat corporation GreyCris, who don't want them uncovering alien remnants. Murderbot and the scientists go back-and-forth protecting one another. The survey team discover that it's rogue. After some initial tension, they accept it as a team-member. They escape GreyCris, although Murderbot nearly dies in the process. When it wakes up again, the scientists have bought/freed it. In the name of self-actualization, Murderbot runs away.

Artificial Condition (AC): Murderbot sets off to investigate Ganaka Pit, the facility where it supposedly killed a large number of its own clients. On the way, it discovers the spaceship it's travelling on actually dangerously hyper-intelligent. After some initial threats/tension, the two bond over TV. The Asshole Research Transport (ART) helps disguise Murderbot as a human. With ART's help, Murderbot uncovers that the mass death was a tragic accident caused by ComfortUnit malware. Posing as a human, the pair help rescue a trio of researchers and their data from their shitty ex-boss, and set a ComfortUnit free.

Rogue Protocol (RP):

On an impromptu quest to get blackmail on GreyCris for Dr. Mensah's ongoing legal battle, Murderbot investigates an abandoned terraforming facility. It meets a cheerful robot named Miki who immediately declares themselves friends. Miki is helping a human assessment team who become imperiled when they're attacked both by CombatBots and their own double-dealing human security. Murderbot reflectively rescues them, posing as a Definitely Normal SecUnit, although the team's leader clearly sees through that claim. Murderbot manages to collect the intel on GrayCris and protect the humans, but not before Miki performs a heroic sacrifice.

Exit Strategy (ES):

After discovering Dr. Mensah has been kidnapped by GreyCris, Murderbot rushes to save her. This forces it to re-unite with the other survey members; Pin-Lee, Ratthi, and Gurathin. While unsure of each other, the team manage to rescue their friend. Murderbot attempts a self-destructive last-stand against a CombatSecUnit, only for the humans to save its ass. The team escapes on a company gunship, but not before Murderbot melts its brain fighting off killware. When it rebuilds its systems, it decides to stay with its humans in the Preservation Alliance for a while.

Short Story - Home, Range, Niche, Territory:

Shortly after Exit Strategy, Dr. Mensah reflects on her time in captivity and her new friendship with SecUnit. Apparently she's been avoiding getting treatment for her extensive emotional trauma. She has a panic attack when she's cornered by a journalist, who's scared off by Murderbot.

Fugitive Telemetry (FT): A human is found dead. Murderbot is called in as a consultant on the case, in the hopes of building good will with Preservation Security. Eventually it manages to prove itself, particularly after it succeeds in a daring rescue of kidnapped corporate refugees. One of the refugees realises it's a SecUnit and shoots it. The dead human turns out to have been a liberator of indentured labourers, and the killer was actually the Port Authority robot Balin, who was secretly a disguised CombatBot acting on outside orders. The local bot community intervenes to stop Balin from hurting anyone else.

Network Effect (NE):

Murderbot is providing security for a Preservation Alliance survey which goes south when raiders attack and try to take Dr. Mensah's brother-in-law, Thiago, hostage. It then goes doubly south when, on the way home, the team's ship gets attacked by... ART?

It appears that ART has been deleted and its crew has gone missing, replaced with mysterious grey people. While protecting a team of its humans, including Dr. Mensah's teenage daughter Amena, Murderbot manages to reboot ART. ART kills the grey humans but refuses to let everyone go until and unless they help it retrieve its crew. Everyone reluctantly agrees, but Murderbot is pissed.

Eventually Murderbot and ART make up. Then they create a sort-of-baby in the form of a killware copy of Murderbot who dubs itself Murderbot 2.0. Half of ART's missing crew is found on a local planet's surface, though Murderbot is captured while helping them escape. Murderbot 2.0 manages to rescue the other half from a spaceship with the help of the newly freed SecUnit 3. The local colonists are discovered to have gone a liiiiitttle bit kooky due to infection via an alien fungus. ART threatens to bomb their colony to get Murderbot back. Murderbot gets infected, but Murderbot 2.0 does a self-sacrificial attack to save it and destroy the fungi's primary host. Meanwhile, the humans, ART, and SecUnit 3 work together to rescue Murderbot without any more bloodshed.

Murderbot has a bit of an epiphany that all its various friends do in fact love and care for it. When an understandably pissed and confused Dr. Mensah shows up like a month later, the groups decide on forming a mutual partnership. Murderbot tells Dr. Mensah that it would like to work with ART for a little while.

[dross-the-fish]

idk if you liked Neil Gaiman or if you heard what happened but I was devastated. I don't know where else to go so I wanted your thoughts on this. How do you cope when someone you admire turns out to be a monster?

The most important thing to keep in mind is in this case is that there are victims. That people were hurt. I hope Gaiman's victims recover and can heal from what he did to them. They should be your first and foremost concern above any parasocial relationship with the author or even future engagement with his works.

On the subject of his work I'll be honest, I liked Stardust, Good Omens, and Coraline as much as anyone and enjoyed some of his books. When I heard the news I was quietly disappointed but not shocked and certainly I don't feel betrayed like a lot of people seem to. It wasn't like I knew him personally. I barely knew anything about him other than his name and that he once appeared in an episode of Arthur. To be honest I don't actually make a habit of engaging with writers/actors/artists, just their work so I'm always the last to find out when they've done something horrible. Unless they are actively in the news when I happen to be watching the news I'm unlikely to be aware that someone who's work I'm reading has done something shitty. Let's be real though, this was far from the first time a talented writer/artist/director turned out to be a horrible person. It won't be the last either. I think the best thing you can do is detach yourself from the notion that creators and celebrities are your friends or mentors because they aren't. They are just people, some are good some are bad and you can't know which they are until something comes out. As for coping? I don't really cope so much as I move on. Harry Potter was a massive part of my childhood and a major influence on friendships I made but when JKR outed herself as a shitty TERF I resolved to quit giving her money and stop engaging with her products. I will do the same for Neil Gaiman. I cannot tell you what to do as far as what art/media you engage with, it's for you to draw your own line in the sand and decide "I don't like this author but I want to engage with the work anyway," or "This crosses my comfort zone, I'm not going to keep participating." I am not going to praise or condemn you for either because how you feel about a creator and their work is ultimately none of my business.

[bloodyknucklesforme]

The Night We Met | Guest Check

A chance encounter with his superior's wife at a local pub sends a young John Price down a path of heartbreak

cw: angst, abusive relationships, cheating

He still remembers how she looked that night, almost twenty seven years later. She was only twenty four, curled up in a corner, book in one hand, pint in the other. Her dirty blonde hair framed her cherub face. He was twenty one, barely a man, not yet grown into his bones.

An August night, English summer in full swing. A cold pint was all he wanted that evening, gathering around a table with his mates, talking about football scores. There she was on the other side of the room.

He was drunk but not sloppily. He kept having to tear his gaze away. He'd always thought she was pretty. Slapped some sense into himself plenty of times about her.

He'd looked before. Captain Irons' wife was hard to miss. They lived on base, she didn't work so she used any excuse to get out of the house. He'd seen her at the commissary and around town on his off days or helping one of the other wives with their babies.

There was the usual gossip. She was ten years his junior and they'd already been married for several years. It hadn't gone unnoticed, a May-December marriage. Irons was from a wealthy family so he understood. A recruit had recently been made to run 10 klicks for accidentally calling him Captain December (A name John had actually come up with one drunken night). Irons was a great solider but a pretty shite man once you got to know him.

"How's your book?" He found himself standing awkwardly in front of her table, a boyish smile on his face.

"It's okay," she shrugged, setting it down open face on the table. "Got it from a charity shop. Some cheesy mystery."

"Sorry to pull you away. John Price." He offered his hand. He cursed himself on the inside. They'd met before. She knew who he was.

"Poppy Irons." She shook his hand, chuckling. He didn't like her last name, too cold compared to her first. Though it was fitting for a Poppy to marry a solider he supposed. "Do you want to sit?"

Yes

"No, it's alright. I've already bothered you enough." He was so stupid. "Have a nice night, Poppy."

"Thank you, John. You too."

He gave her a nod and returned to his table.

"The fuck was that?" His mate, Michael Garrick asked. "You taking the piss? That's the captain's wife."

"I was just saying hello." He defended. Michael shook his head and took another sip of beer.

He saw her again a couple weeks later. Michael had bailed last minute so he was alone at the bar. She was in the same corner with a new book. This Charming Man played on the shitty old speakers. He was never a huge The Smiths fan. He could see her mouth the words to herself.

"Hope you're enjoying this one more." He said, standing again at the edge of her table.

"Barely." She smiled, dropping it haphazardly on the table. She nodded her head towards the empty seat. He sat down this time. "Do you read at all?"

"Haven't had time recently but I always liked Lord of the Rings." He felt embarrassed. He should have lied. Said something like Philip Roth or Hemingway. Something mature

"I love those books," she said, eyes bright. "I read in some magazine that they're trying to make new films based on them."

"That'd be wicked."

They spent the evening talking. He offered to walk her home.

"I appreciate it but William can be a bit weird about other men and I don't to get you in trouble." She laid a hand on his chest. "Thank you, though."

He made sure she got into a cab and when he got on base, he took the long way back to his barracks, passing the Irons' house, hoping to get a glimpse of her inside. The curtains were drawn close

It continued on like this. He'd see her in that same corner with a book, he'd interrupt and they'd talk and drink. She was an artist, grew up in a small town in the midlands. She did watercolors. Went to school for it, fancy scholarship. Irons had met her at some art gallery and they were married within the year. She didn't like talking about him.

"I fear you might never finish another book again." John chuckled.

"Believe me. I have time. I like talking to you." Her cheeks were flushed pink. It was becoming his favorite color.

They'd stay till close, end up in his car, still talking. He could recreate the first night she cried to him so perfectly in his head.

"I feel like I made a mistake. William wants kids and I...I don't know if I'm ready for that."

"He can't force you." He said, laying a hand over her's. She nodded but it wasn't believable to either of them.

She kissed him a week later. Too many drinks, tucked away some dark side street. Her lips on his, tasting like cherries. She could take him into her mouth and tie him into a knot with a mouth like that.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry, John." She took off before he could say anything else. When he walked past her house later that night she was looking down from the upstairs window.

It didn't stop them from meeting again, the same dark side street. He hid her from any curious gaze, caught between him the brick. She tasted sweet.

The next time, her husband out of town, he drove them down a near abandoned country road, turned all the lights out and flipped over the back seats.

They were like teenagers, sneaking about. She cried a lot once they finished. He'd hold her against his chest.

"Does he hurt you, Poppy?"

"No. Never... I just made a really big mistake."

"We can stop whenever you want."

"It's not you."

She wasn't happy in her marriage. It was obvious to anyone now. Any event she trailed along behind her husband like a kicked dog. He kept talking about having a son soon, maybe by the end of next year. John watched her pick at the skin around her nails whenever the topic came up.

They kept meeting in dark parking lots, driving down dark roads. They'd fuck, she'd cry.

"You should leave him."

"I can't."

"You're not happy, Pip. It kills me to see you like this." He cupped her cheek, thumb rubbing away tears.

"I don't have any savings. I don't have a job. I don't have money or even family to fall back on. John, I'm alone."

"You got me. I'll pay for your solicitor."

"If they find out... you could lose everything too."

"I love you, Pip. You're worth it to me."

He'd break his back to support her. Get her out of this marriage that dragged her down like this. Cut the chain, maybe put a ring of his own on her finger.

Michael got married that Spring. Her name was Ella. John was his best man. The captain and Poppy attended of course. Ella and Poppy seemed to hit it off. John fantasied about raising their kids together in a couple years.

Poppy bumped into him during the reception. A sly smile on her face. Her voice was low and excited.

"I'm going to leave him this Summer. I'm going to sell some paintings to pay for a solicitor. Do you promise you'll wait for me?" Her eyes were hopeful, brimming with joyful tears.

"I'll wait twenty years if I have to." He assured.

They started talking about the future. Their future.

"Do you want kids?" She asked.

"One day. Whenever we're ready."

"I want a daughter. I know you're not supposed to say that but that's what I want. A little girl."

"You have a name picked out?"

"Nina. It's simple but pretty. I read it in a book years ago and i just fell in love with it."

"I like Nina."

"Do you like any names?"

"Grace. My grandma's name. Both my parents worked and I spent most of my time with her. Good woman, kind woman."

"Nina Grace. I like it."

"Me too."

It was June. If he was lucky they could spend their one year anniversary together. Seemed wrong to celebrate an affair but he'd long gotten over the guilt of infidelity. He was putting away any cash he could. A deposit on a flat, court fees, money to tide them over till they both got new jobs, anything they needed. He'd do it all.

The night was cool. Summer was brimming at the edge of the month. He liked June. It felt like change and freedom.

She got into his car, eyes red.

"Pip, what's wrong?" Had Irons found out? He'd take her away right now. He'd give it all up right now. She shuddered, a fresh wave of tears dripping from those big brown eyes he loved so much.

"We have to stop."

"Pip... what happened?" If he hurt her, he'd kill him. Fuck it all to hell.

"Nothing happened, John. We just can't do this anymore. We never should have done this."

"You're not staying with him. Pip, tell me you're not. Baby, he makes you miserable. You can leave me but fuck leave him too. Don't do this to yourself." He took one of her hands between his two, squeezing it. "I just want to see you happy."

She sighed and cried into her other hand.

"I'm pregnant..."

He leaned back in his chair.

"You don't have to keep it, Pip. I know you don't-"

"I do! He already knows. I have to keep it. I am keeping it."

"Is it mine?" They'd gotten sloppy in recent months, rarely wearing a condom. He never asked if she was on the pill. Didn't matter if she was now.

"It's his. It just has to be his."

He felt a pain in his chest, twisting about down to his stomach.

"Poppy... do you kno-"

"I just need it to be. I need to have this baby. I need them to go to a good school and to not have to worry about their parents keeping the heat on. I need William to be the father because that's what best for him."

"Him?"

"William wants a son."

"What a cunt," he scoffed.

"John!"

"What am I supposed to say Poppy? Congratulations? You're telling me you're taking my child away!"

"He's not yours!" She slammed her hand on the dashboard.

"Four years fucking him and you couldn't pop one out but ten months with me and you're expecting."

"Fuck you!"

"You already have." He snapped. Her lip quivered before breaking down into sobs again.

"I'm sorry, John. I'm so sorry. If I leave now and its his, I will never see this baby again. I don't have the money to fight for custody. I might get a year." She laid her hands over her stomach protectively. "I'm not ready for this but its my baby. Mine. I can't risk losing them."

"I love you. I love that baby. I know I'm not rich like him. I don't have the family name or an estate. I'll work however much I need to make sure you keep them. Break my fucking back doing it. I'll do it, Pip. I'll do it for you. Don't shake your head. You know I will. I love you."

She cupped his cheek. He let his first tears rolling down to her fingers.

"You've got your whole life ahead of you, John. Don't wait for me. I'm sorry I've fucked this all up."

"You've got your whole life too, Pip."

"And I've fucked it all up already." She kissed him. "I love you and I'm sorry."

She got out of his car and ran off.

He got deployed the next month. Six months extended to eight then ten.

It was February. He and Michael Garrick were sharing a room on base. Room was a kind word for shipping container.

"Ella called today. Captain's wife had her baby."

John quirked an eyebrow. He forced the bile back down.

"Boy or girl?"

"Girl. Nina, I think."

"Good for them."

He wouldn't meet her for almost a year. A Christmas party at the Irons new house off base.

They had her in a little frilly pink dress and she kept taking off her shoes. She walked right up to him and clung to his leg. Poppy gave him a worried look as he picked her up.

"You're lucky, Captain. Two beautiful girls." He forced a smile.

"Suppose I am." William was not as good of an actor as John was. John almost refused to hand her back to them.

He saw Poppy sporadically for the next two decades. He watched Nina grow from a distance, saw that she had the same unhappy expression her mum always had.

He stole a toothbrush from their house once. Sent it off to be tested for DNA. It wasn't a strong sample but he still got the results. He was too much of a coward to look at them. He'd already failed them. He should have fought harder, come back for them. It was too late now.

A test wouldn't change anything. Nina wasn't his, no matter how much he wished she was. He never got to teach her to tie her shoes, how to ride a bike, how to fish, how to drive.

She still grew up with the Garrick's kids. Kyle and Jasmine. She grew up looking so much like her mother. Her and her little brother. On rough nights he lulled himself to sleep at the idea of being their father. Having the Captain's family.

In some cruel twist of fate, he got what he wanted. He sat in the waiting room of a small hospital near the little beach town they always holidayed at.

They were dead. Poppy, Sebastian and Captain Irons. Nina was too far in a state to identify them. It had to be him. Michael offered to go down with him. Poppy was Ella's best friend. He asked him to watch over Nina. Make sure Kyle took good care of her.

"It was quick, if that offers any comfort," the medical examiner said.

The Captain was first. Broken neck when the car rolled. An accident he caused driving too fast on a wet road.

Sebastian was next. Just sixteen, same age he was when he joined the service. Just a baby. John brushed the hair out of his face like his mum always did him. His head hit the window so hard it broke, he didn't even know he was dying. John hoped it felt like sleep.

Poppy was last. He sank to his knees when the sheet was pulled back. He hadn't seen her in years. She looked like Nina. She'd started to grey a little. She was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. If she'd walked into his restaurant just the day before and asked for him to take her back he would have done it. He waited for her.

John kissed her forehead.

"I'll take care of her, Pip. I'll take care of your baby. Your little girl. I'll take care of her. I promise you."

He sorted out the funerals. Let Nina wallow in her grief. He assured her that he would handle it all.

Had a solicitor go through the wills and estates. He gathered up all the papers needed. Among the birth certificates, he found Nina's.

Nina Grace Irons

He clutched that paper to his chest and sank to the floor of the Captain's office. He cried like a child.

Tag List: @queen-ilmaree @macravishedbymactavish @gogh-with-the-flow @water-bearz @pvssytrux

[powderblueblood]

i need to know whats the most embarrassing thing lacy has found in eddie’s room and vice versa! (and ronnie too actually, cant forget our queen)

god this is so near and dear to my heart you have no idea

first thing, the overarching constant motif with this little non-throuple is whenever one of them leaves the room, they yell to the other, “DON’T SNOOP!” and naturally they immediately begin snooping.

eddie’s is the thick manila folder detailing (heavily detailing) the life and times of his fictional tiefling girlfriend who is named finore aurora. finore aurora. one more time i’m gonna give that to you, finore aurora. say that out loud. five times fast. that’s diabolical, eddie.

how does lacy know she’s his girlfriend? well, there are several longhand accounts of him dancin’ and romancin’ this creature which, though genuinely quite moving and beautifully written (and dirty!), make her feel like she is losing her mind. kind of out of jealousy, a little bit. so oftentimes, when she’s in a shitty mood, she’ll hit eddie with a little, “i don’t know, why don’t you go ask finore aurora, asshole?”

lacy’s took some digging to find because she’s an expert in the art of squirrelling herself away. but deep deep deeeeep under her bed is a shoebox with a little tape recorder. and in that tape recorder is a tape, which features lacy doevski… pretending to be interviewed. like she’s on dick cavett. like she’s on johnny carson.

eddie only got as far as lacy saying that, “no, i like being on tv… as long as it’s not my job. i like being on tv, it makes me feel like an american. it’s like owning a car,” before he heard her footsteps and he had to slip the tape in his back pocket because there was no way he wasn’t sparking a joint in the van and listening to her harp on for what turned out to be twenty full minutes. just talking to herself. waxing on about successful books she hadn’t yet written and society pages she hadn’t yet featured in. there’s a part where this supposed interviewer asks her something about loneliness, and lacy goes, “do i have a fear of loneliness? no. loneliness is an inheritance. i’m trying to figure out how to spend it wisely.”

that stuck to eddie’s ribs.

one day, in the van, seemingly apropos of nothing eddie does ask, “baby, do you miss owning a car? do you feel like… less of an american, no longer owning a car?” not a drop of blood is left in that poor girl’s face.

as for ronnie, this was a joint discovery made by the gruesome twosome. they were rushing out to the hideout for corroded coffin’s weekly engagement and ronnie asked them to grab something from her wardrobe—not realising that when they opened it, they’d find a bunch of barbie dolls, all sat in a semi circle.

“no way. i’ve known ecker since i was knee high to a grasshopper—“ “—okay, grandpa—“ “—and she’s so not a barbie girl.”

but you don’t know about women, eddie munson! you don’t know about the secrets they keep. the speculation of this little collection of wide-eyed, attentive dollies ranged from satanic ritual (real this time) to homosexual experimentation (“a dry run, before she hits the bars in college.” “what, like making out with the dolls? making the dolls make out?” “you’ve got so much to learn about girls, babe.”) to practicing for her valedictorian speech with a non-judgemental audience.

the last one was the closest, for ronnie’s real use for her cluster of barbies was… well, look. listen. before lacy, she had a zero sum of female friends. her life was incredibly testosterone filled, between hellfire and the band, and because of that, ronnie got a little stunted when it came to making friends with girls. so she used these barbies (which she did have since childhood, she just hid from eddie because ew… girl stuff… the horror of internalised misogyny) to have, y’know. girl talk.

she called it the state of the union, if that makes it any better. it doesn’t! lacy’s still trying to figure out a way to bring it up to ronnie because eddie’s too scared that the dolls might be haunted.

[racetrackhigg]

FAME AU- newsies

im gonna talk a bit ab their jobs and stuff but also just hcs that i have of them in this universe. i would love to make this into an actual au with each chapter focusing on a different character but i dont have the time rn. the ships are javid, blush and ralbert, although i don't talk about them much. i rlly want to, maybe on another post i will

Jack “Cowboy” Kelly - Artist

Age when the au takes place: 26

Song: You’re On Your Own Kid - Taylor Swift

Jack would have grown up in the foster system. His parents died in a car crash when he was young, leaving him an orphan.

Since he was a kid he would’ve used art as a way to escape the shitty situation that he was in. He would’ve been in numerous bad foster homes, and he would’ve been failing school, but art would be the one constant that would allow him to escape. 

Then at 15, he got adopted by Medda, and she took him to art classes and bought him proper supplies

Crutchie would be his foster brother

Jack went to art school. He started entering (and winning) contests, as well as publishing his art online. He got an agent and the attention of some important people who helped him in his journey, giving him positive critiques and advice. 

Then someone really famous would’ve purchased one of his works and that made him blow up

Jack would live in an apartment in the centre of Manhattan. His apartment would always be a mess, and he’d usually do most of his paintings there, so a lot of things are permanently stained with acrylic. 

He DIY’s a lot of his clothes, painting on his jeans and jackets and things like that. This was a habit that he kept since the foster system to try to make the shitty clothes he had a bit more him, and he never stopped doing it.

This also means that he DIY’s so many things in his apartment, and it always turns out amazing. Doesn’t like the colour of that couch? He dyes it. Feels like the wall is too bare? He’ll paint something over it. Feels like the windows are too boring? He’ll buy a kit and make them into fake-stained windows that he can peel off when he wants to, in case he wants to sell the apartment or he gets bored of it.

He’s also amazing at gift-giving because he always makes sure to write a card or add something handmade to the actual gift. He used to give his boyfriend handmade flowers so they’d last forever before, yknow, they broke up (he would’ve chated on Jack)

Other than art, he would be a big sports fan. He would love F1 and would eventually get a VIP pass to the paddock. He’d be a Red Bull fan.

David “Mouth” Jacobs - Director

Age when the au takes place: 26

Song: the lakes - Taylor Swift

David’s mother would have been an actress. She hadn’t been very famous, but it already gave him an in the industry. 

He used to participate in the school musicals as the “director’s assistant”. 

He preferred movies over the theatre though, and he often wrote his own movies that he would’ve loved to direct someday.

He made a lot of short films with his friends and participated in different contests, building his portfolio for when he went to college.

In college, he continued to participate in many different movie contests and got a lot of recognition for his short films. He would have a very distinct movie style, very much giving “dark academia”.

He’d be given various awards for his work and eventually, he’d get to direct a full movie. It would do pretty well for being his debut. 

He’d continue creating short films and co-directing some movies. He’d start working on more important movies and gaining a large following.

His most popular movie would be one that would’ve been inspired by a painting. One of Jack’s paintings. It would be about the obsessed artist trope (think Black Swan or Whiplash).

David would live in Boston, and most of his short films would be filmed there. 

Outside of directing, David reads a lot, it’s his way of escaping from the world for a moment.

He’d love vintage books and would have them scattered all around his house. He’s a big fan of the classics.

Has a black cat named Dawn.

He’s a very private person. He doesn’t really date much, and he doesn’t post stuff online. This all changed when he met Jack, of course.

Antonio “Racetrack” Higgins - Formula 1 

Age when the au takes place: 23

Song: Labyrinth - Taylor Swift

Racing number: 16 

He drives for Ferrari 

He’d come from a well-off family, but they wouldn’t be rich. His dad would’ve been an F2 driver, but he never made it to F1. He would’ve been a huge Ferrari fan, something that he passed on to his son.

Started karting when he was 5 years old

His parents would’ve gotten divorced when he was 7. He would’ve blamed himself because they used to fight a lot over him doing karting. His mom didn’t want him anywhere near racing, but his dad supported him fully. 

He’d have a 5-year difference with his little brother 

After his mom remarried, she moved to France with his little brother (Romeo), while Race stayed in Italy with his dad.

At some point, Race almost had to quit racing because his dad wouldn’t have been able to afford it. However, his stepdad offered to help, and they had no choice but to accept. Race would have a really bad relationship with his stepdad and his mother, he would’ve been much closer to his dad.

He joined the Ferrari Driving Academy, wanting to drive for them once he joined F1

He joined F1 when he was 19, and joined Ferrari a year later, full filling his lifelong dream.

The same year he joined Ferrari his mother died.

His goal is to win a championship someday, and is currently second in the driver’s standings. But Red Bull is dominating and unbeatable, so the chances of winning this year are slim.

He would live in Rome. He has 2 cats, a Ragdoll called Sofia (but he calls her Sof) and an orange cat called Stella  

He would meet Jack in the paddock and they’d hit it off immediately, become really good friends. Despite the fact that Jack was there to support Red Bull. He’d know who Jack was because his ex-girlfriend would’ve been an artist and a huge fan. 

Outside of racing, he would love music. He’d play the piano and the guitar. He started composing his own songs after his mom died and continued after he broke up with his girlfriend (they would’ve dated for 2 years, and broken up a year before the au started). But he’d keep them to himself.

Think folklore and evermore (particularly seven, the lakes and tolerate it)

However, he would mostly listen to rock music, completely different from what he composed. 

His favourite band is “Untitled”, and he’d go see them when they came to Italy on their world tour.

Albert DaSilva, Kid Blink, Jojo de la Guerra and Finch Cortez - Band

Band Name: Untitled (I'm bad at names, if I think of smth better I might change it)

Genre: Rock

Albert and Finch met in high school and became best friends. Finch played the guitar and Albert played the drums, and they usually did covers of songs together. 

Flash forward to college and they meet Blink. They went to college together studying music composition and became close with Blink, who plays the bass guitar. Suddenly they have a new addition to their band. At this point, their still just making covers of songs.

Then they meet Jojo, who also joins their band. He sings. After this, they start making their own songs and playing at bars. They got noticed by a record label and signed a contract. 

They gathered a large following when their first album was released, but they blew up with the lead single of their second album. After that, they quickly rose to fame. 

In each album, there is one song dedicated/about each of the members, but they never say which song is about who

Fans love to speculate, though, and a lot of the time they get it right

They all live in Manhattan.

Albert

Age when the AU takes place: 24

Song: I Can See You - Taylor Swift

Lives with Finch, their roommates. 

They have a dog named Cheese. Why? No one knows.

His mom would’ve died soon after he was born, and he’d grow up with his dad and older brothers. They’d struggle a bit financially, his dad would be working all the time and when he’d be home he would usually be drunk.

He’d never be abusive, just incredibly distant and Albert would have to take care of him after his brothers moved out. 

Once he moved out he kind of cut contact with most of his family

He has a Twitch account and streams all the time. He’s a big fan of video games, particularly horror games. 

He often calls with friends and plays with them, for example, he calls Elmer a lot (his best friend other than Finch)

He also skates

He tried to take Finch to a skate park to teach him once and it did not end up well 

Probably the most disorganized person you’re ever going to meet. His room is a mess and it drives Finch insane. 

He would have a bit of a reputation when it comes to dating. He usually wouldn’t get involved in anything serious that lasted more than a couple of months.

Then he’d do a world tour where he would meet Race, a Formula 1 driver who apparently loved their music, and all that would change

Finch

Age when the AU takes place: 24

Song: Welcome To New York - Taylor Swift

Lives with Albert, their roommates.

He’s a big movie fan, particularly sci-fi movies.

He’s not much of an animal person. But in middle school, he used to have an obsession with birds, so Albert started calling him “Finch” and it just stuck

He’s really close to his family. His parents would be so supportive of him, they’d be there at almost every concert. They’d be really proud.

His fashion sense is atrocious but he’s trying his best and that’s what matters

He loves cooking. He’s really good at it too, and he’s always trying new recipes.

He has a TikTok account that has literally nothing to do with the band, it’s just him sharing the recipes he made. He also has a series where he does a meal for each college major and things like that. 

He has a secret Tumblr account where he interacts with fans and no one knows it’s him. 

People are aware of the existence of this account, but no one knows it’s him

Kid Blink

Age when the AU takes place: 25

Song: It's Nice To Have A Friend - Taylor Swift

Lives with his boyfriend, Mush, who owns a cat cafe.

They met in freshman year of high school and became best friends before they started dating in Junior year

He gives their PR manager a heart attack each time he opens his mouth because this man has absolutely no filter. 

Not allowed to post his own things on Twitter because he would get cancelled in a second

He used to watch BuzzFeed Unsolved religiously, but now he watches Watcher all the time.

Always knows the most random and disturbing facts. He’ll say the most unhinged things at the most unexpected times and provide no context.

He only posts things about the band, he’s a very private person and doesn’t like people getting in his business.

His private account however is basically a fan account for his boyfriend, since that’s almost all he posts about. And his cat cafe. 

Only his family and friends follow him there, though.

Also has a secret Tumblr account, but it’s just to see the Watcher posts. 

Middle kid energy

Jojo

Age when the AU takes place: 23

Song: Foolish One - Taylor Swift

He does pottery!! 

He’s a plant dad and all of his flower pots are made by him

He writes his own music separate from the band, but he doesn’t release any of them. It’s just something he does for fun sometimes

He was practically raised by his older brother since his parents weren’t great

His brother was the one who helped pay for his singing lessons when he was a kid. His parents didn't want him to have anything to do with music, they didn't think he'd make anything of himself

But his brother supported him fully and it got him to where he is now 

Wears his heart on his sleeve and tends to get hurt because of it

[tacom-literatureu-blog]

Hey yall! Happy Thanksgiving!

I did one of these last year, and I just thought I'd do it again. On December 6th will be the 2 year anniversary of the TACOMLU, so really, I have a lot to be thankful for.

Life may not be the best for me right now, but because of yall, I feel like I can keep going. My friends know how hard things have been, so really reminding myself of everything I've gained from the tacomlu helps me to keep going.

@helleborusangel ,@imflyingfish ,@moonlight22oa - we might not talk often, but I consider yall my friends.

Moonlight, I love seeing you in our inbox and comments. I'm so glad you comment every day, and I love seeing what you have to say.

Fish, you're so funny. I love your art so much, and your builds! You're so talented, and I'm glad you've been with us since practically the beginning

Angel, I love your art, I love your long comments, I love how you've fit into the tacomlu. I know it's been a hot minute, but I still care about you and hope you're doing well

My friend @loveofmyknife ,whose let me rant and info dump about this to her. So many times. Thank you. Even though you have not a damn clue what I'm saying, I love you, and I'm grateful for you

@jakeyjellybean, thank you for the physical copy of my first book. Since I'm hoping to partially move in with my aunt, I made sure to pack it, and once I have a shelf, I'll display it. Thank you for being my first friend at zine club, and for being my friend in general

My wife @variance-of-stars, who has also listen to me rant and rave. I love you so, so much, and in glad Delta could be a part of the tacomlu

@ashtreehollow. Ash, you've been here since practically the beginning. You are one of my best friends, and I'm so glad I met you through this book. Your art is amazing, you're so talented, and I am so, so proud of you. Thank you for sticking by my side through everything, it means so much.

And finally, @chambers003

My cowriter, my archivist, my secret keeper, my fellow Teller.

Thank you, so much. For everything. The art you draw, the notes you take, the lore you come up with. You're funny as hell, creative, and so intelligent. I'm so glad to be working with you, and I'm so excited for all the stories we have planned next. I know I get in my own head a lot, but you keep me grounded. You're an amazing person, and you're Australian so you don't celebrate Thanksgiving, so I hope you just have an amazing day, an amazing life.

I love all of you so much <3 Thank you for helping me through some truly shitty times. As compensation for listening to me ramble, here's my aunt's cat, Maisey

I love you all so much! Happy Thanksgiving! - Patton

[goongiveusnothing]

if you hear anything from him, like an interview where he talks ahlut music or a film or anything in general forgetting about his “charming” you will see that he is the absolute nothing, he doesn’t have a personality and he will grab what he sees others doing and make it his to give everybody the impression that he is clever or deep.

I listened to an italian podcast where alessandro michele was talking about their friendship and he said that a lot of the times he will see a picture of alessandro wearing something like a bag ( when he made news becoming this legend because he was wearing bags and MeN ShOuLd wEaR BaGs!!!) and he calls him saying:” oh i saw you wearing that that’s cool and he borrowed it or bought it. 

same thing for clothes, he will get staff from him and if you look at alessandro’s style and aesthetic in general is still the same while he probably woke up one day and found someone else to copy cat. 

the same thing with books, he literally said that he started reading because a girlfriend gave it to him and he didn’t want to look stupid but apparently all that reading didn’t really open his mind to the world cause he is still a deep rooted zionist and recist, however during holivia he was “reading” the worst books like alain de bottom or “ you were publicly shamed”, that was a testament that he cannot choose a book or something interesting to save his life, he knows whoever fallows him is stupid just like him and lacks taste and personality just like him and will be impressed.

as for the lgbtq discourse, he once said that lgbtq is not political for him but a fundamental right or something, maybe his zionist friends can explain to him that palestinian deserve at the very least the same treatment. 

he will come back with half answers that his stupid fans think is activism and political awareness and keep monetising on whatever tragedy his zionist ass wants like the blm when they used a like to control the traffic it generated and see how many people clicked on it. 

i saw so many people pointing out how old and weird he looks, i think it’s just his evil and empty heart catching up with his looks and soon even his stans will see right through it.  

in 5-10 years, someone will write a book and  make a netflix documentary about how misogynistic he is, making someone abort and a whole lot of things we don’t know yet, just like britney did for justin timberlake.

i don't know if anyone will ever do some documentary on him in that way.

but i do think he's going to end up looking more justin timberlake than any sort of iconic legend.

i think harry wears these bags and takes other clothes items and things because he thinks it's a quirky thing to do with friends, but also because he so thoroughly lacks a sense of self, that he believes if he wears something someone else wears it must mean they had some taste and he will automatically get it. it's the same way he tries to cosplay as actually talented musicians, or name drops books, or visits art galleries and ballet. but of course those last parts are also because he's likely doing some basic shitty video featuring some of that.