#maybe they could talk about the goofy night in the church

[zmediaoutlet]

dean/crowley and sam/crowley

ahaha well --

dean/crowley

technically you don't have to 'ship' things that are canon. :)

that said: I mean, come onnnn. D/Crowley has mUch more canon basis than just about any other "okay, I guess they didn't technically show us kissing" ship in the show. I mean the fivesome alone! But also the obviously canonical pining from Crowley, the way Dean threatens a lot but you can't ever actually imagine him really going through with killing Crowley (because he's soft with guys who've fucked him <3), the way Crowley always Gets what's going on with Dean in a way deeper and more fucked up than anyone else -- even Sam -- even maybe Alastair. The spectator sees more of the game, as they say, and what's interesting about Crowley is that he would never, ever expect to be #1 -- but what he can get at as #2 might be just as useful.

what's also fun about D/Crowley is like -- while it's obviously a mistress ship to the side of the main canon event, it's very... free? Dean doesn't have to pretend to be anything other than what he is. Of course he does, because he wouldn't be Dean without a little gloss of pretense, but like -- Crowley knows him. Crowley knows his worst shitty parts. Crowley probably has a spreadsheet with how many souls Dean shredded in Hell and has polite comments arranged for every one, which he Will Not Say but they both know he could. Dean's guilt encompasses the whole planet but Crowley doesn't give a shit about that guilt, except how he can manipulate it to his own ends, and they both know that, and it's like... all the cards are on the table, you know? In that way it may be a little bit of self-harm for Dean, sure, but he's going into it with eyes wide open and knows exactly what he'll get out of it and it's. Well, 'free' is the only word I can think of. A little corrosive maybe but lots of things have been worse.

also the dude died for Dean, which we should always appreciate as the ultimate simp move. Dean's got a bodycount stacked much higher than Sam's dick. Why isn't the meme about Dean's murderous puss?

sam/crowley

would Crowley attempt to seduce Sam? Sure he would. Would he try to get him into a place where Sam might really consider saying yes to it? Of course. Would Sam actually say yes? lolno, not unless LITerally every other option (potentially including his own death) were wasted, because--

unlike the previous ship in this ask, Sam has self-respect. rip Crowley but Sam already learned his lesson with skanky demonsex and like. He's just not that sad. Plus there's zero zero zero interest or closeness from Sam -> Crowley, and Sam's a lot of things but I really don't think he's a 'self-punisher with sex', and he obviously just finds Crowley fucking irritating, lol. He's also never gonna kill Crowley because the network wouldn't let him, but where with Dean you can hear the shouted threat as very empty, with Sam you can hear that he would REALLY LIKE TO and keeps getting thwarted. Crowley might be useful but he's not Sam's friend, and---while I fully believe that Sam can have hatesex---Crowley doesn't feel like an option he'd ever choose. Not least because he knows Crowley would try to use it as a card against him, and he's smart enough to not let that happen.

As an interesting codicil to all this, I also sorta suspect that Crowley respects Sam more than he does Dean. He'd still use the opportunity if it were given, but where with Dean it's a fun way to needle him (we'll ignore his subsequent schmoopy pining, the dope), with Sam, it feels like Crowley would really just find it a disappointment. Like, he expects better. Adds a cool element to their dynamic.

[iwonderwh0]

I've been replaying dbh lately, and: I unlocked Amanda's profile in the gallery and realized I'd forgotten one important detail. That Amanda has the authority and ability to remotely deactive Connor, at any second. The only reason she didn't during the escape of Jericho or Night of the Soul was because he was still UsefulTM. As she could assume control of him anytime, anywhere, but needed him to ingratiate himself to the Jericrew and get close to them before murdering Markus on live TV (and i wondered about that for a while - why wait, why not just kill Markus in the church, or hell, even immediately after deviating at Jerico - but i suppose it's a much bigger negative impact on public opinion to watch an android kill the deviant leader live. Their support is still tenuous, at best. This would likely tip plenty of people into believing that deviants are, in fact, unstable, unpredictable, and dangerous.)

But also...the fact that Amanda could have Thanos snapped Connor at any moment and he would have crumpled to the ground like an electrocuted pigeon. I just feel like, that as a fandom, we don't talk about this aspect of her nearly enough.

Imagine, if you will, Hank waiting for Connor at ass fucking o'clock (for him), freezing his ass off and hoping and waiting Connor wasn't hurt, wasn't laying dead in a ditch, or burning in an alley somewhere- and then he turns and Connor's there, missing a tie, but still with that goofy Superman curl and goofy smile. He's tugging the kid into a hug by the neck before he can think twice about it, and he thinks that maybe. Just for a split second. That maybe the world ain't all bad.

Connor's nearly melted into the embrace, lax (as much as THE stiffest android he's ever met, anyways) as can be, except he suddenly tenses in Hank's arms. Hank leans back, putting distance between them, just enough to look Connor in the eye, except the deviant isn't looking at him. Instead, his wine dark eyes are fixated ahead, wide, blank, and unseeing.

"Connor? You alright?" He asks nervously.

Connor does not reply, or tilt his head, or do any of the other 300 little idle animations he does. His LED is a steady, unblinking blue. He doesn't even seem to be simulating breathing.

"Connor? Hey, talk to me, kid." He knows his voice is edging near panic, but he doesn't care, giving Connor's shoulder a little jostle.

Connor remains unresponsive for 4 seconds, and then-

his LED turns a bright, burning red, his eyes roll to the back of his head, eyelids flickering up a storm, and he starts falling backwards. Hank watches it all as if in slow motion.

"Whoa, hey, hey, hey-" He yanks Connor against him, lowering him until he's cradled almost in Hank's lap. "Con, help me, what do i gotta do? I know fuck all about androids, so you're gonna have to tell me what to do here." He knows holding a hand to an android's forehead won't tell him anything, that they don't even get sick or cold, but he does it anyways just to have something to do with his hands. "I can't-fuck, just please, be ok. Don't do this to me, please-"

Connor's red LED flickers, once, twice, then holds steady for a moment before dimming slowly to nothing. Empty, grey, and lifeless.

Somewhere, far away from the icy slush and the screams bouncing off the detroit streets, Amanda snips another dead rose.

Damm, okay!

Yeah, I think shooting the deviant leader on live tv during the victory speech is surely much more impactful “last twist” than doing it in the middle off some mess where someone else could still theoretically take over the leader role (although it’s not like Connor didn’t try)

So you want that hug scene but with drama? Can’t blame you, haha

Although I’m a huge fun of something like this happening right then and where Connor resisted shooting Markus, once again during the speechtime. I mean, him shooting himself regardless of whetger or not there are Markus. Because if he can resist Amanda when Markus is alive, it’s not entirely sure why isn’t it an option when he’s alone, so shooting himself in both scenarios kinda make sense imo

[pondslime]

I've been absent from Tumblr for a couple of days and somehow my FYP is full of Sinclair thots??.?? Is this some national holiday?🥶🥶🥶🥶 I have so many that gnawl at my brain at night.

Imagine calling Bo Beauregard for the first time🤐🤐🤐 You're either trying to be serious and have a real conversation with him for the first time since settling in Ambrose (spoiler: this is impossible. He's misogynistic and a firm believer that there's nothing to talk about with girls🩷🩷🩷🩷 he gives off that TikTok vibe "Do girls even have hobbies?" Like bro, drinking bear and crying ain't a hobby either), or you're so exhausted with his neanderthal shenanigans that you just sigh "Beauregard...." while absolutely pissed off and annoyed.

I just KNOW mama Sinclair would call him Beauregard in that no-nonsense tone when he would rip a hole in his dress pants before church , he must have PTSD from hearing his own freaking name. He's so used to being just Bo, that the only times he even acknowledges his full name are when he's either being scolded by his parents or when he's arrested and sees it on the paperwork.

So yeah, long story short I doubt he'd be amused by anyone calling him Beauregard. RIP MC.

*bonus crack thought* I remember talking here with someone about how Fucking Funny™ would it be to call Bo Robert. I'm not a native English speaker and I honestly never heard of the name Beauregard before😭😭😭 I just assumed Bo is like Bob, which is Robert😂😂😂😂 I'd get smacked on the head with a wrench for trying to be cute and calling him Robert. End scene

omg jhdsjhfjd not the fyp being inundated w/my dumbassery 💀

I lowkey felt like I was spamming the dash last night. BUT idk what came over me, I've had a couple days off work and I'm in a chatty mood hjhdsjahjhsdjh like. I just wanna TALK about this goofy ass movie?? **note to all the poor souls that might be following me rn: pls feel free to block the tag "sinclair brainrot hours" if u would like to save urself from my shenanigans**

this ask is killin me dshjhdfsjhj DRINKING BEER AND CRYING AIN'T A HOBBY BOY

I'm unfortunately part of the Anti-Beauregard Sinclair Hater Nation. I am, after all, the graphic designer responsible for THIS abomination:

context for this can be found here, with poki's galactic big brain take

I also love this take on what his real actual name is 🐔🧊

I just CANNOT buy this guy as a beauregard hdjhdfjh I simply cannot

HOWEVER. I do this thing w/ppl I'm fond of where I'll lengthen their names in ridiculous ways. like just add in entire syllables and letters that just. wholly don't exist. and I could see one of two situations playing out w/bing bong

scenario one: u drop a "beauregard" out of the blue one day. maybe you're trying to be cute. maybe you're trying to piss him off. he looks over @ u. crinkles his brow and gives u the bitchest lil expression. u best be glad u make good pork chops, WOMAN. bc u can't even remember his NAME. who tf u think ur talkin to??? one of ur fancy shmancy city boys?? get outta here!! just grumblin' around the living room abt how if u want some prissy ass boy w/a genteel ass name like that, his brother's right downstairs grumble grumble mutter mutter

scenario two:

he's been slurpin up that good ambrose moonshine (some crazy ass shit that comes in a jug w/x's on it. u know the one. lester labeled it as "ambrosia" and walks around saying it's the "fruit of the gods" and slappin his knee. bo has no fuckin' idea what he's saying.) and despite his high tolerance, boy's a bit sloshed. so are u. u drunkenly crawl into his lap and call him beauregard. he thinks this is v heehaw funny. whatchu think I am girl?? some kinda royalty?? that pretty lil head of urs is all kindsa messed up!! figure I AM like a king here hehehehehe

both equally as annoying😔

[ocw-archive]

New York Times, Men's Fashion of the Times; March 2004

Piazzaman

By Josh Patner

''Could I have some more ah-gua, per fah-for-eh?'' Owen Wilson asks the waitress in a restaurant just off Piazza di Spagna in Rome. His Italian is 100 percent Texas tourist; you almost hear President Bush speaking Spanish. ''I don't know why they can't make the Italian food at home taste like here,'' Wilson says, eyeballing a piece of tuna in his salad. ''Go into any dive, and it's the best Italian food you ever had.''

As the wonder rises in his flat, twangy voice, it's hard to imagine anything more charmingly American than Owen Wilson in Rome. He flops down at a cafe table with all the formality of a guy about to pop open a Bud. Certainly the shaggy blond hair, baseball cap and blue jeans do their part. Or maybe it's because he's bowlegged: he always looks as if he has just jumped off a horse. ''Can you imagine how I felt, coming here from Dallas?'' says Wilson, 35. ''I mean, it's so beautiful!'' The actor, who co-stars in ''Starsky & Hutch'' opposite Ben Stiller, has been in Rome for the last five months working on ''The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou.'' Directed by his best friend and college roommate, Wes Anderson, it tells of a father-son conflict between Bill Murray's Jacques Cousteau-like man of the sea and Wilson's airplane pilot. When Wilson talks of living among the wonders of Rome, he speaks elliptically, stymied, like a suburban guy who has landed on a dazzling new planet. ''After being in Rome, flying into Dallas/Fort Worth and driving by the Dairy Queens and the 7-Elevens . . . it's sort of . . . Europeans must find . . . here they are with all this beauty . . . the churches with the Caravaggio paintings . . . it's so . . . different.''

Movie stars in Rome have long enjoyed the affections of a city that loves celebrity. But Wilson reverses that equation: he has thrown his arms open to Rome. ''It's not like I'm Bruce Willis,'' he says with a sheepish grin. ''He probably has a hard time going outside.'' But Wilson is everywhere: watching American football at an Irish pub near Piazza Navona, buying cheese at an outdoor market, zooming past the Vespas on his bicycle. ''I tear around Piazza del Popolo and then go down to the Colosseum, and I ride around that, and then I hit that place -- what is it? The Circus Maximus.'' You might think Wilson -- the handsome brother of the handsome actors Luke and Andrew, and Sheryl Crow's ex -- was on his junior year abroad.

But Wilson is no wide-eyed hick. Writers have called him a ''big-popcorn movie star'' and ''bankable headliner.'' He is an actor who has it all: down-home folksiness and art-house weight, megaplex sex appeal and a deep sense of complex characters. His peculiarly deadpan delivery (he sounds like an old-time character actor playing a boozy cowboy) and versatile presence on screen (he can be ironic and naïve) have made for a charmed career. ''Bottle Rocket,'' his first film, a crime caper written with Anderson, who also directed, was screened at the Sundance Film Festival in 1993. ''It's kind of incredible,'' he says, a toothpick twirling in his teeth. ''Wes and I were friends in school; we'd go see two movies a night. Wes worked in the projection booth, so we went for free. And here we are at Cinecittà, where Scorsese filmed. It's good, man.'' The two continued to work together on scripts for ''Rushmore'' and ''The Royal Tenenbaums,'' which received an Oscar nomination for best screenplay in 2001.

Wilson's first major roles, in ''Shanghai Noon'' and ''Zoolander,'' showed his finesse with action and comedy. In ''Behind Enemy Lines,'' his portrayal of a military pilot shot down in Bosnia and on the run revealed an equal gift for drama. Now, with his character in ''The Life Aquatic,'' he has another chance to broaden the goofy screen persona that isn't far from his real self. ''This character is a lot less of me. He's very innocent and sweet-natured. A lot of characters I've played are rife with insecurities. But he seems happy.''

With three new films in the works, he could be dizzier than a rodeo pony. (He has roles as a villain in ''The Wendell Baker Story,'' written with Luke, who co-stars and co-directs with Andrew, and a romantic lead in ''Wedding Crashers.'') But as our lunch ends, he kicks back with one foot on a stool and talks of leaving Rome. ''I think the thing I'll miss most is the feeling I have here -- feeling really relaxed and just kinda riding around on my bike, seeing stuff.'' After a polite ''Thank you, and see yuh,'' he zooms off on his bicycle, so deeply American that the grandeur of Rome seems to shrivel in his wake. You imagine for a moment that you are on some college quad, not before a palazzo made of stones dragged from the Colosseum.

Ah-ree-ve-der-chi, man.

[slasherbastard]

“I deserve to rot.” “It never mattered anyway.” And “You’re supposed to be yelling at me! And… and hitting me! Why aren’t you doing that?!” (Platonic) With a happy ending for a young-teen slasher reader? Billy and Stu plz 👉👈 love your storys

Warnings: Angst, a little bit of violence,  Word count: 2950 Notes: Sorry this took forever to write also it’s the longest prompt i’ve written

You sat down beside Billy on Sidney's bed and tried to hand him a glass of water which he refused, you sighed and set the cup down. You were never close with Sidney Prescott despite her being in your "friend group" but you wanted to be there for your best friend Billy since his girlfriend was just murdered by a lunatic in a cheap Halloween costume. The two of you had been hiding in his ex-girlfriend's room since the two of you arrived at the wake, Billy spent almost the entire time silent while you sat beside him just trying to keep him company while he grieved.

You knew that he blamed himself for Sidney's death and you didn't know if being here would be good for him but he wanted to be here, to see her room one last time. You watched as he stood up and walked over to her desk and fumbled with something on it before muttering something you nearly didn't hear. "I deserve to rot."

Your expression softened as you looked up at him. "Billy, no you don't-"

"Yes I do." He raised his voice and turned to face you. "I'm the reason she died, I- I could've saved her." He stopped once he realised what he'd just said and covered his mouth as his eyes glossed over with tears and you quickly stood up and pulled him in for a hug, he cried into your shoulder as you rubbed his back and said nothing, just letting him let out his emotions before the door opened and Stu walked in.

"I thought I'd find you guys in here." Stu spoke quietly, he came over and sat on Billy's right side. "How're you holding up?"

"Well, my girlfriend is dead, and you couldn't have arrived any later." He scratched his eye and stepped away from you, looking at the two of you. "We should get going, I just want to get this over with." Billy grabbed his coat that was hanging over the chair at the desk and didn't wait for the two of you as he walked out to his car. Stu looked at you.

"What is it?" Stu asked, sitting down on the bed.

"He still blames himself for her death, you know?"

"Yeah, Sid really meant a lot to him but he'll be fine."

"I don't know, Stu. I'm just worried that he's going to do something regrettable."

Stu shook his head, you swore he tried to hide a smile. "He'll be fine,  trust me."

You just nodded in response and the two of you exited the house, finding Billy leaning against his car smoking. When he saw you he chucked his cigarette on the floor and stomped on it before getting into the car. The ride to the church was silent except for the sound of the radio playing quietly and Stu humming along in the backseat, the car slowed to a stop outside the church next to multiple news vans and other cars. People dressed in black filed into the church, Billy didn’t move. “Billy? We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.”

“No I do it’s just that-” He ran a hand through his hair. “- I have to, I was her boyfriend. Uh, just, I’ll catch up with you guys, I’m just going to talk to daddy dearest.” He pointed at Mr. Loomis who was not so subtly eying the car, you and Stu stepped out of the car and began walking up to the church.

You turned your head to see Billy stepping out of the car and walking over to talk with his father before you and Stu entered the church and found a free row at the back and sat down, throwing your coat down in the space beside you for Billy. “I’ve never been to a funeral before.”

Stu looked at you. “Really? Well don't get too excited, someone just died." you rolled your eyes and scanned the room in the hopes you'd find someone who looked familiar but instead you just saw a bunch of your high school peers who you knew Sid never talked to, Stu caught onto this. "Yeah, I think about 10 people here actually knew Sid, the rest are just fans."

"Fans?"

"Yeah, a lot of these people are just here so they can say 'hey, I went to Sidney Prescott's funeral', and then there's mostly people who idolise the guy who killed her because they think he's a hunk underneath that costume. There are people out there who actually think the killer's hot. I mean, how messed up is that?" Stu laughed and a few seconds later Billy slid into the seat beside you and thanked you.

"What did your father want?"

"Oh he asked me if I had prepared that eulogy for the funeral. . .which I didn't." Billy ran a hand through his hair and looked around as Mr. Loomis walked in, making eye contact with him for a few seconds before finding his own seat. You turned to Billy and gently touched his arm, he looked down at you and you went to talk but the sound of feedback filled the room. You looked forward and saw a woman apologising and holding a microphone.

She introduced herself as Sidney's aunt and Neil's sister, she was the first of many people to give their speeches about Sidney. Finally, after what seemed like forever, a family member finished their eulogy about Sidney and stood in front of the podium. "Now I would like Billy Loomis - Sidney's boyfriend - to come up, Billy?" Billy stood up and awkwardly walked up to the front of the hall and got behind the podium, pulling out a folded piece of paper and unfolding it and looking at the crowd of people.

"Sidney. Sidney, Sidney, Sidney, where do I start with you?" Billy sighed. "Alright, I have to admit that this is just a blank piece of paper." Billy held the paper up and flipped both sides to the audience sitting below him as if he was a magician, an awkward silence filled the room. Billy awkwardly coughed and stuffed the paper into one of the pockets on his suit and apologised before continuing. "Sidney would've laughed. She was truly something, you know she didn't deserve this. I just wish I could go back to that night and save her. It just- it repeats in my head over and over and it haunts me. All I can see is her face and her voice- oh, her voice. I'd give so much just to hear her voice one more time or hold her. I just miss her so much." Billy bit his lip as his eyes began to water, he recomposed himself and continued his speech. "Sidney was such a beautiful person. I remember this one time when we were together. We were watching this horror movie together and there's this part where one of the characters gets possessed and he's just being thrown around the room, but she pauses it and turns to me and she starts talking about how she wants a future with me." Billy paused as scattered sobs filled the audience. "She didn't deserve any of this and I mean this with all due respect but whoever kill you, Sids, I'm going to fucking-"

“Okay that’s enough, Mr. Loomis.” The person who announced him pulled him away from the podium and Billy joined you and Stu again in the back of the church as one of Sidney’s relatives stood up to give her speech. Billy sat down looking surprisingly calm despite his short outburst, some people were still turning back to offer judging and amusing glances at him.

"You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He looked forward for a few seconds then looked at you, speaking in a hushed voice. "Hey, wanna ditch this? Grab Stu and meet me outside." He didn't wait for a response before getting up and leaving. Stu looked really confused and was about to ask about what happened but you shut him up by grabbing his arm and pulling him up, practically dragging him out of the building.

You both caught up to Billy as he was getting into his car and you noticed that he was acting completely different from how his was this morning let alone just a few minutes ago, it was as if he'd forgotten what'd happened or maybe he didn't care. You and Stu got in and Billy turned the radio up as loud as he could and barely let you put on your seatbelt before driving.

To be honest you were worried and a bit too scared to ask him what was going on. You would've asked Stu but he was back to his old goofy self and encouraging Billy's reckless behaviour so you decided to keep quiet and let Billy take you guys to wherever pleased him. Eventually you guys just ended up at a 7/11 - you were expecting a cliff or maybe a ditch but you were glad that you were alive. The three of you got out and Billy threw his arms around yours and Stu's shoulders as the three of you walked in and got a few questioning looks from the other customers.

Stu broke apart from your little group and began hunting down snacks in the snack aisle while you and Billy went straight to the slushie machines. "Hey, Billy? What was all that before?"

"What'cha mean? Oh, Cola or Raspberry?"

"Raspberry. I mean, you were devastated and now we're here." he began filling up two plastic cups and waited until they were full before handing them both to you.

"Eh, it never mattered anyway. Hey, go hand this to Stu and make sure he's not being an idiot." you took them and went to find Stu who from over the shelves, looked like he was one wrong move away from dropping all the crap he was holding. Still you were very confused about Billy's reaction but you assumed he was just having a mood swing to cope with Sidney's death. You glanced back at him before walking into the snack aisle and laughing at how stupid Stu looked.

"A little help here?"

"Sorry, my hands are full." You held up the two slushies and Stu ended up dropping everything on the floor. "Jeez, let me put these on the counter then I'll come help you." You shook your head while biting back a smile and found the front counter and set the drinks down as Billy passed you holding another cup. "Stu's in trouble." You laughed as you followed him to see Stu trying to pick up all the stuff he dropped plus a few extra chocolate bars from the shelf.

"At least you didn't drop the soda. Fuck, the soda." Billy dumped all the stuff he was holding and went to grab a 24 pack of coca cola cans, Stu giving him an 'are you joking' look and rolling his eyes as he picked up the rest of the snacks.

You helped them clean up the mess and ended up only buying 3 bags of chips and 12 candy bars instead of 20 bags of chips and 17 candy bars like Stu had originally planned, paid for them all and left. You got into the car and threw all the bags of snacks into the back for Stu to 'guard' and took a sip of your drink as Stu and Billy stood outside and talked.

A few minutes later they both got into the car. "Y/N, do you want to stay over tonight"

"Yeah, sure." You nodded and noticed Billy and Stu grinning at each other through the rear view mirror, not thinking much of it as Billy started the car and pulled out of the gas station.

"Thanks for staying here tonight."

"Yeah it's good." You said as you caught a pillow Billy threw at you and dropped it on top of the spread out blankets on the couch. "Are you sure your dad's cool with me staying over?"

"Yeah, he's working late tonight anyways."

Stu dumped all the snacks on the coffee table and ran into the kitchen to grabbed 3 cans of cola and fell onto your makeshift bed. "Okay so what are we watching first? We got Day of the Dead, Re-animator, Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, or The Funhouse." Billy threw you another pillow which you immediately whacked Stu with, causing him to fall off the couch, you dropped down onto the couch and grabbed a bag of chips but Stu grabbed it before you could open them. "These are for the movie marathon." He stuck a finger up at you to wave in your face but you just kicked in and grabbed the chips off him again and opened the bag.

Billy rolled his eyes and grabbed one of the movies off the table and stuck it into the tv and sat beside you as the movie loaded on screen while Stu pulled himself off the floor and grabbed one of the coca cola cans and popped it open, taking a sip.

About two movies into the marathon the three of you ended up passing out but you were the first to wake up. Checking the time it was only 10:31PM and you really needed to use the bathroom so you got up and jumped over Stu's body and walked upstairs and found the bathroom and did your business. You came out of the bathroom and was about to go back downstairs when you noticed that Billy's bedroom door was opened and your curiosity got the better of you as you peaked downstairs and saw that the two guys were still asleep and creeped into the bedroom.

Billy's room was exactly what you'd expected it to be, some band posters on the wall above his bed and a messy room. You don't know what you wanted to see, maybe a naughty magazine loosely hidden under his bed, maybe a bottle of alcohol. You shrugged and went to leave his room when you noticed something behind his door and opened it to see a small pile of black material.

You opened the door and stuck your head out again before closing it and picking up the material which you were certain was just a shirt he forgot to throw in with the rest of his dirty laundry, but instead a knife fell out. It made a semi-loud noise as it hit the hard wood floor and you covered your mouth and hoped that it didn't wake up Billy or Stu - Billy especially. You went to pick up the knife but then you felt something else hidden in the fabric and turned it over to see a white mask, this is a Father Death costume, the same one used in the Woodsboro murders.

This could mean one of two things, Billy was another one of those losers who terrorises random people for fun, or he actually killed Sidney, and you really hoped he was just a loser. You quickly dropped the costume on top of the knife and kicked it into the corner where you found it and exited the bedroom and you were about to go back downstairs but then you realised that you needed answers so you grabbed the costume and knife and hid it behind your back with one hand and headed downstairs.

Billy and Stu were still asleep. "Wake up." You half-yelled, Stu managed to wake up while Billy stayed still, lightly snoring. Stu rubbed his eyes and looked at you before realising that something was wrong. He tried to get up but you held your free hand up and he began hitting Billy's chest, waking him up after a few hits.

"What is time it?" The two of them were still trying to wake up when you bit your lip and held up the mess of black fabric and the knife and their faces both dropped and turned pale at the same time. You dropped the contents onto the floor and without skipping a beat you walked for the front door. You didn't get far before Billy grabbed you and forced you to look at him. "Y/N, I swear it's not what it looks like."

"You killed her." You said quietly, Billy let go of you but you didn't really react. He expected anything from screaming to attacking but you just stood there, confusing him.

"I don't understand, you’re supposed to be yelling at me! And… and hitting me! Why aren’t you doing that?”

"Well, I'm just trying to make this easy for you. If you want to kill me, then do it."

Now Stu had stood up and was watching the two of you, Billy bit the inside of his cheek. "We're not going to kill you, Y/N." He took a step closer to you and you took a step back. "Y/N, please. We have no reason to hurt you, think about that. I only killed Sid of her mother." He took another step towards you but this time you didn't move.

You didn't know what you wanted or if you could trust either of them. Billy got closer and gently pulled you in for a hug, slowly wrapping his arms around you and resting a hand in your hair and rubbing your back. "I don't know why but I trust you." You whispered just loud enough for him to hear and his grip on you slightly tightened - not in a claustrophobic way, but more comforting as you felt yourself melt into him. "Just don't kill me."

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Get Me To Church, I’ve Done So Many Bad Things It Hurts

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: you guys, idk what this is. I only know it’s not what I initially planned. Title is from Sinéad O’Connor’s song “Take Me To Church”, which hijacked this story’s initial plot. It reminds me of Wilhemina, and it’s a very good song <3

Word count: ~ 5 400

Your brain no longer was a brain but fucking mush. Mush that stunk and made one want to throw up at first sight. You had not been able to get a good night’s sleep since you had been sent to Outpost 3 a few months ago. You were running on a few hours of rest snatched here and there and on the disgusting, weird food cubes. At this point, when someone talked to you, you would gap at them until your brain suddenly gave a start and registered their words. Your body felt twice its weight. It was hard to concentrate, hard to think.

Days went by looking exactly alike. You would get out of bed, meet the others, try to have a talk, listen to the same song over and over again. “Calling occupants of interplanetary, most extraordinary craft”. Stare at a book maybe, open it, stare at a page, fail to understand a single sentence. You would wait for time to pass. Complain with Coco or Andre or that guy whose name you couldn’t remember even though you had been living together for months now. One day, Coco and you decided to exercise by running up and down a staircase, but you didn’t last more than five minutes before you dropped on the floor, panting. You didn’t try again. You lacked the motivation.

Sit at the table, eat your cube. “Calling occupants of interplanetary, most extraordinary craft”. Go to bed. You were going crazy. You could no longer tell what was real and what was a figment of your imagination.

In truth, there was one thing at least you knew was real. The butterflies in your stomach every time Venable – freaking Venable, of all people – so much as walked into the room you were in.

It was terrible. Why her, why you, you did not know. The only thing you knew was that you were falling hard for her, for that sadistic, mean, scary woman.

In typical mush-brain fashion, you couldn’t string two sentences together when she would ask you a question and her dark eyes would bore into you. You would laugh stupidly or give one-word answers. You would trip over your own feet when you passed her in a corridor.

So, really, it wasn’t a surprise when you realized that she hated you even more than she seemed to hate the others. For starters, she never looked at you. When she did, her eyes were as cold as the North Pole. Icy winds and all that. And when she talked to you, her voice was always so condescending, so sarcastic, as if she knew you were the most idiotic idiot at the Outpost. She probably wondered every minute of every day why you had been chosen to survive. It was a mystery to you, too.

But then – but this was part of your imagination. It must be. There was no rational explanation. For the wistful look on her face you had caught a glimpse of, once, when you had turned and shot her a glance. She had been staring at you. Or for the faint blush that had risen to her cheeks when you had accidentally – accidentally? – brushed past her, way too close to her, on your hurried way to the bathroom. Or for that one time, that blissful, ethereal time – but that had been a dream, it must have been, you had passed out from exhaustion and dreamed – when she, coming out of her room, and you of yours, had paused with her hand on the doorknob, and raised her head, met your eyes, and smiled. Not her mocking, cruel smile. But a fond, almost shy smile. A genuine smile, reflected in her eyes. This you were sure you had dreamed. Were you?  

You were falling for her. Love, intimacy, would make things more tolerable. You craved a strong, true connection with someone, and part of you was convinced you could have it with her.

In the past few evenings Venable had made a habit of joining you in the music room as you whiled the time away before bed. She wouldn’t say anything, merely sit and read a book. The first time she had done it, you and the others had exchanged half surprised, half worried looks. What was she doing? Studying you? Deciding which one of you she would cook for dinner? You didn’t know. Her presence had made you all uncomfortable at first, but now you were used to it. You ignored her, just as she ignored you.

She always, always sat facing you.

And you couldn’t help but steal glances at her. Marvel at the beauty and neatness of her. Your eyes would travel down her body and the butterflies in your stomach would go wild and your head fill with want. For. Her.

Her eyes never met yours, not even once.  

One evening as you sat brooding and she sat reading facing you, and the others chatted about some boring things, and the music, the music went “Calling occupants of interplanetary, most extraordinary craft”, you abruptly jumped on your feet to stretch your upper body. The sudden movement surprised Venable, who looked up at you. You met her eyes and gave her a goofy smile. She scowled.

“In your mind you have capacities,” you heard yourself sing to the music.

“But do you, Y/N?” Venable sneered.

That shut you up. You straightened up and glared at her. “Do you have, like, a problem with me?” you asked in an annoyed voice.

“Do you mean apart from your obvious lack of brain cells?”

“Why are you always so mean?” you heard yourself whine.

“Oh, boo hoo,” Venable cooed. “Poor you. Look at you, standing among the few who have been allowed to survive the Apocalypse. Do you really think I should feel sorry for you?”

You considered that. “No,” you grumbled.

“No, Ms Venable.”

You didn’t know what came over you then. Probably it was a mix of exhaustion, anger, frustration and want. Your hands clenched into fists. In what was both the bravest and stupidest moment of your life, you retorted, “Bite me.”

Someone in the room gasped, and then chuckled. Venable’s eyes went wide with shock. Heat flooded your cheeks.

You were dead meat, you knew that. So really you couldn’t make things worse by adding: “I’m sorry. I meant, bite me, Ms Venable.”

Impressive. You were a genius. Gosh, you needed sleep.

You couldn’t meet Venable’s eyes. Instead you stared at Andre, who was gawping at you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Coco give you a thumbs-up. You smiled shyly at her.

“Right,” you said. “Um. Goodnight.”

You hurried out of the room before someone could call you back. Your heart was beating too fast in your chest, but you couldn’t really understand why. You needed sleep.

You closed the door of your bedroom behind you and collapsed on your bed.

**

You couldn’t sleep.

It was always the same: you were exhausted all day, but the minute your head touched your pillow, your brain roared back into life. Someone in your head turned the light on. You were wide awake.

You groaned and turned on the bed. You didn’t have the slightest idea what time it was or how long you had lain under the sheet. It could have been ten minutes, it could have been a century. You turned again, forced yourself to close your eyes.

Bite me, Ms Venable. Damn it, you were such a fool when you were exhausted! You had survived the bloody Apocalypse and now you were about to die for something so, so stupid. Venable was probably plotting your death right now. She would order you out of the Outpost and condemn you to a horrible death among the repugnant creatures that haunted the nuclear winter outside. In your current state, you wouldn’t last a day. You’d trip over something and break your neck or get stabbed by the first hungry person you’d meet.

Fear clenched your stomach. You didn’t want to die. You didn’t feel like giving up on life yet. Even if the world as you had known it was gone, even if there was almost no hope of a bright, safe future. God, you wanted to live.

You sprang out of bed before you knew what you were doing and ran to the door. Locked it. Looked around the room for things to build a barricade with. The chair would do, and if you could move that huge chest of drawers –

You heard footsteps coming down the corridor towards you. And something else, unmistakable. The sound of a cane.

Shit. Your whole body froze with fear. Then your hand automatically reached for a decorative statuette close-by, that had sharp angles and that you could use as a weapon if need be. The footsteps grew louder and came to a halt at your door.

You waited, heart hammering in your chest. Venable must have a spare key, of course she must. You stared at the doorknob, expecting it to move, expecting the door to open, on Venable standing tall and threatening and radiating off anger and satisfaction. How so very beautiful she would look.

Nothing happened.

What was she doing? You couldn’t hear anything but the mad pounding of your heart. Had you imagined her footsteps? The sound of her cane? But you had been so sure –

One of your hands came up to press against the door. Fingers splayed out, palm pressing against the cold, hard surface. To try and feel her through the wood.

You waited. Your heartbeat was drumming against the wood. And it was slowing down, and your eyes were fluttering closed, for she was here – just behind the door, and you could almost see her, her eyes on the doorknob, the spare key in her hand, her lips slightly parted. It was as if your soul had connected with hers and now they were softly singing to each other.

There was a sound like a sigh. Before you knew it you had unlocked the door and opened it.

Venable stood in front of you with her left hand in the air, a few inches further to the left than yours had been. She met your eyes in surprise as her fingers curled up. She lowered her hand, and schooled her features.

You decided your safest option was to play it cool.

“I thought I heard a noise,” you said, assuming a casual expression.

“I was on my way to bed,” Venable answered. A pause. “I saw your light was on through the gap under your door.”

She didn’t sound particularly mad or threatening. Relief flooded your chest. Maybe she didn’t mean to kill you, after all. Maybe you’d been over-reacting.

Her eyes fell on the statuette you were still holding.

“What’s this?” she asked very slowly. Her eyes met yours again. They were dark, her eyes. The darkest eyes you had ever seen.

“What’s this?” she repeated, louder. You started.

“Oh, uh.” You raised the statuette to your chest and shrugged. Play it cool. “I don’t know why I’m holding this.” You tried to laugh. It came out nervous and foolish. “Must have been sleepwalking or something.”

Venable’s gaze was boring into you, piercing your skin, piercing your veins, piercing your bones. You felt too hot suddenly. You laughed again. Then it finally dawned on you.

“My light isn’t on,” you said.

You always kept one candle burning when you slept, but its light was very faint. There was no way Venable could have seen it from the lit corridor.

Her face didn’t change. “It’s not?” she said in a toneless voice.

You shook your head. “I’m afraid not.”

She straightened her shoulders, raised her chin. Her grip on her cane tightened just so.

“Were you planning on attacking someone with this?” she asked, nodding at the statuette.

“I’ve no idea what you mean,” you answered, holding her gaze.

“I cannot think of any other use you could have for it.”

“Well, maybe I was.”

“Has someone threatened you?”

You scoffed. Gave her a look as if to say the joke wasn’t good. She narrowed her eyes uncomprehendingly.  

“Um, let’s see.” You folded your arms as you pretended to think. The statuette dug in your chest. “Maybe I’ve gone just a little bit too far with someone who’s quite obsessed with hierarchy.”

A small, incredulous laugh escaped her.

“You thought I was going to –“She didn’t finish her sentence, her laugh lingering on her lips as the incredulity reached her eyes.    

“Well,” you retorted, leaning your hip against the doorframe, “you did have those two Greys shot the other day for making love.” You raised your eyebrows at her. “For breaking one of your rules. So excuse me if I’m not feeling particularly safe right now.”

The smile vanished from her face. She closed her mouth, stared at you. Your eyes shifted to her lips. Back up to her eyes. You licked your lips.

“I wouldn’t have you killed merely for being stupid,” she said after a short moment.

How were her cheekbones so sharp? Her eyes so dark? You swore whomever had made her was the most talented artist and the cruelest asshole in the whole goddamn universe. How many years it must have taken, how much sweat, how many skills, how much patience and love, to make her.

You cleared your throat. What had she just said? Called you stupid. Wouldn’t have you killed. Something like that. You couldn’t remember.

“My light wasn’t on,” you said mechanically, “so why did you stop at my door?”

If the question surprised or unsettled her, she didn’t show it.

“I thought it was on,” she answered without missing a beat. She paused. “You thought I was going to have you killed?”

“Um, maybe.”

Her eyes fell on the statuette again. When they met yours, you swore you saw something like sadness deep into the black. She blinked, and the sadness disappeared.

“It’s getting late,” she said. “You should go to bed.”

You realized you didn’t want her to go. What if you invited her to come in? What if you told her about your insomnia, and asked her to help you while the night away? Merely have a talk with her. Merely sit by her side, and watch her, and share secrets with her. Show her you weren’t as stupid as she must think you were. You could light dozens of candles and watch the light dance on her face. Have her relax, make her laugh. And maybe if things went well, at the break of dawn you could lay your head on her lap, and certainly then sleep would find you.

You assumed a nonchalant expression. “Well then, goodnight to you,” you said with a smile that hurt your mouth.

She nodded, turned and walked off.

You listened to her footsteps fade away. You let out a long, shaky breath, and closed your door.

For a very long time you stayed with your back against the door, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. The sadness you had seen in Venable’s eyes haunted you. You tried to think of something else. What you would do tomorrow. Boring. That summer holiday you had spent in Spain with your best-friend. Venable’s hair in the flickering light of the candles. Venable’s face. Venable’s eyes. How you absolutely adored the fact that she could stand up to anyone. Venable’s eyes. The sadness in her eyes.

You groaned. You had half a mind to bang your head on the door to knock yourself out and finally get some sleep. Perhaps you could go to Venable’s room and apologise. Tell her you hadn’t meant to question her authority. You’d like to see her again.

It was a stupid idea. Lack of sleep made you so, so stupid. She would be angry, would order you out, slam her door in your face, maybe hit you with her cane. You shouldn’t. You wouldn’t.

You tip-toed down the corridor till you reached her door. It was slightly ajar, which surprised you. Heart beating fast, you opened it just enough to peek into the room.

Venable was sitting on the floor by the dark fireplace, her head bent, her hands joined on her lap. What was she doing on the floor? Surely the position couldn’t be good for her back. Then you noticed that her lips were moving, forming silent words, as if she were praying. Her eyes were closed.

The flickering light from the candles threw shadows on her face. Patches of black and red and orange vacillating and oscillating. Touching her face, fleeing to the walls. You watched her in silence, at a loss for what to do or what to think. You heard her sniffle, saw her raise a hand to wipe her cheek.

There was something so fragile about the scene in front of you. To see this woman who was always so proud, and so strong, and so dominating, murmuring silent words to herself on the floor in the dead of night. Or maybe those words weren’t for herself. Maybe they were addressed to someone else, whoever would listen, whoever would take the time to stop and lend an ear. Was she asking for strength? For mercy? Salvation? Her back was leaning slightly forward just like the backs of worshippers you had seen in churches.

Her lips stopped moving for a moment. She opened her eyes to stare unseeingly at the wall in front of her. You saw her bite her lower lip, saw her take a shaky breath. The silent murmuring started again.

You scratched your arm nervously. You knew you should leave, and erase from your mind this private moment you had no right to witness. Part of you felt like a thief. But your legs seemed to be frozen. You could not move them.

So you watched her. At one point she coughed softly, and the next two words came out loud enough for you to hear them: “Let me...”

Was she praying? You didn’t think she was a religious person. Why should she be? She had helped bring on the Apocalypse and had not received so much as a word of complaint from God. You squinted at her in the dim light, your body instinctively leaning towards her, your hands coming up to grip at the doorframe. Your heart was pushing against your ribs as if it wished to burst free from your chest and wrap around her.

Venable paused, sighed, went on murmuring. Once again her words reached you. “…soothe and let it save me so she can think it acceptable to love me.”

Your clammy palm slipped on the doorframe, unbalancing you. You gasped in a breath. Venable’s head jerked to the side. Her eyes locked with yours.

You could have screamed. Surprise then anger then fear flashed across Venable’s face as you took a step back, your mouth opening and closing like a fish as you tried to find something to say but couldn’t come up with anything. For a moment there was only silence, and you and she holding each other’s gaze.

Venable’s face closed up. She stood up, supporting herself on her cane, so calm, so composed. It was impressive, the tight grip she kept on her emotions. Always so perfectly in control of herself.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in a firm voice.  

“I –“you stuttered, “I – I’m sorry, I just – I, uh, saw your light was on.”

That was a risky answer, and you knew it. But today had been crazy, and any minute now Venable would unleash her wrath and it would destroy you. You had nothing left to lose. So you held her gaze, her inscrutable, unreadable gaze, admiring even now the flickers of candlelight that danced across the black.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you heard yourself say, your voice coming from far, far away. “I’ve not been able to sleep for quite a while. So I roam the corridors to try and distract myself, and I saw your light was on.” A pause. “What were you doing?”

Venable’s expression didn’t change. She took her time to answer, and you waited, waited for the inevitable anger, the inevitable punishment. You felt too distanced from yourself to be afraid.

“That is none of your business,” Venable said eventually. She turned away from you. “Go back to your room.”

That brought you back to yourself. Your soul crashed back into your body.

“Is that all?” you blurted out. “Go back to my room? Aren’t you going to, like,…” You didn’t finish your sentence, but she must have understood, because she turned to face you and shot you a somewhat outraged look.

“You seem so very certain I mean to hurt you,” she said sharply.

“Er, well.” You folded your arms on your chest and looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think. “In the last few hours I disrespected you and burst into your privacy. And, no offence, but you don’t strike me as a kitten kind of person.”

“Kitten?” she repeated.

“Yeah, you know.” You brought a nervous hand up to scratch your head. “Fluffy and cute, cuddly and helpless.”

She stared at you as if you were stupid. “Kittens scratch you for no reason.”

“Yeah, but...”You shook your head at yourself.”Never mind, don’t mind me. I’m too exhausted to think straight.”

Long seconds passed. None of you moved. You both held your ground, staring at each other. Waiting.

Your mouth opened again. “I don’t know whether I should run away from you or towards you.”  

She didn’t react. Didn’t answer. She kept staring at you.

“I can’t sleep,” you repeated. “May I stay here and sleep with you?”

Her expression did shatter at that. She blinked in surprise, then in consternation.

“Uh, I mean, not like that,” you stammered. “I mean sleep as in actually sleep. Uh, get some shuteye.”

Venable let out another one of her small, incredulous laughs. “No, you may not,” she answered sharply.

“Right, of course. Stupid me.” You tried to laugh, ended up choking on your own spit.”Sorry. Uh, forget about all this.” You quickly turned to go.

“You need to get a grip on yourself,” came Venable’s voice. You stopped.

“Gosh, I know,” you breathed.”I’m sorry.” You waited. No reply came, so you started to walk away.

“I may have a few sleeping pills, if you think they can help,” Venable called after you.

You turned on your heel and rushed back into her room. “Yes, please, I’d be very grateful. Thank you.”

Venable nodded, walked into the ensuite bathroom. You heard the sound of a drawer opening, some fumbling, and then she was back into the room holding a small pill box.

She dropped one pill in your extended hand. “Try this tonight. I can give you more tomorrow if it works.”

“Thank you,” you breathed. Your fingers curled around the pill as her eyes bore into yours. You almost reached out to touch her cheek. Almost.

But then your breath hitched. For that was it, wasn’t it? Her punishment. Her revenge. You glanced down at the pill in your hand. Poison. It had to be.

You glanced back up at her, and your thoughts must have shown on your face, for her eyes momentarily glazed over with the same sadness as before.  

“This is hydroxyzine,” she snapped.

“Right,” you mumbled. “Thanks.”

“Do you think some of my rules are too harsh?” she asked suddenly.

You blinked at her. “Well, I mean…” You paused a second, considering. You chose honesty.” Most of them are useful, I’ll give you that. But, Ms Venable, the copulation rule? People being shot for, what, loving each other? Finding comfort in each other?” You took one step towards her, growing irritated. “Those two Greys didn’t deserve death. They did nothing wrong. And what’s so bad about copulation, anyway? What’s so wrong with affection? Intimacy?”

You paused, waiting for her answer. Her eyes were very big and shining in the candlelight. They were different, now. It was that sadness again. She looked almost sad.

“Tell me, what’s wrong with this?” You reached out and laid the pad of your index on her right wrist. She tensed up, her hand tightening around the knob of her cane. Her eyes grew bigger still.

You swallowed, refusing to lower your gaze, as you slowly ran your finger down her hand, circled one of her knuckles, moved to the next. You could feel her shaking under your touch, her skin soft and hot.  

“This never hurt anyone,” you said softly. Her brow tightened, just so. She made as if to withdraw her hand from your touch. Your finger stuttered, your eyes questioning hers. Well, maybe affection had hurt her. Undoubtedly it had. You could read it in her eyes.  

You removed your hand, but she captured it in hers and brought it up close to her mouth.

“We cannot possibly take the risk of having to deal with a herd of babies, can we, Y/N?” she said very slowly. Her breath grazed your knuckles and sent a shiver down your spine. Her grip on your hand was strong.

“We can’t, Wilhemina,” you heard yourself say.

Wilhemina. How did you remember her Christian name? She had told it to you exactly once, on the day of your arrival at the Outpost. Months ago. And it wasn’t a very common name.

“But then again, Wilhemina,” you went on, “you and I would never have this problem.”

Venable brought your hand up to her mouth, her gaze burning into yours, and sank her teeth into your skin.

“Ow!” you yapped. “What the…”

She tightened her grip on your hand to hold it back. A smirk crept up her lips.

“Bite me,” she said, her mouth hot and damp against your skin. “That’s what you said. So, here.” She did let go of your hand, then. You held it protectively to your chest, smoothing it over your shirt. “Happy to oblige.” She turned away from you.

You watched her in consternation as she bent over her bed, apparently rearranging the pillows. Her teeth had left a row of white marks on your hand. A moment passed, until she straightened up and met your eyes.

“Well, goodnight,” she said, almost teasingly. And with that she sent you off.

**

“You’re still alive,” Coco said in surprise the morning after.

“You’re very observant,” you mumbled, slumping onto the chair next to her. You still felt a bit woolly because of the hydroxyzine. But at least you had slept.

“You’ve been observing our Earth”, sang the female voice from the radio.

“This song will drive me crazy,” you groaned. “Can’t we turn it off?”

“And we’d like to make a contact with you,” the voice retorted.

You straightened your shoulders as Venable walked into the room. Her gaze immediately fell on you. You held it, not sure what to think of the night before, her helping you, her biting you for God’s sake – mechanically you massaged the back of your hand where her teeth had sunk. And those words you had overhead. They had been addressed to someone else, but you couldn’t help but hope she had been talking about you.

You thought you saw something in her eyes, eagerness perhaps, as she walked towards you. She stopped in front of you and tapped her cane on the floor.

“Good-morning,” she said. You gave her a smile in answer, then lowered your eyes to study your nails. You could feel her gaze on your face.

“How did you sleep?” she went on in a casual voice that sounded just a tiny bit strained, as if she were uncomfortable or nervous.

You squinted at her, fighting back an amused smile. “I slept well, thank you.”

You were vaguely aware of the hush that had fallen upon the room. There was more to it, too, some sort of tension, expectant and apprehensive, a holding of one’s breath as one waits for something the nature of which one isn’t really certain of.

“We’ve been observing your Earth, and one night we’ll make a contact with you,” the robotic, distorted alien voice burst out.

“Good,” Venable answered. “I am glad to hear that.”

A pause. The pause stretched.

“Maybe now some of my brain cells will finally kick back into life, “you prompted.

Venable blinked. “We can only hope so,” she answered after a while.

The smile you had been holding back danced across your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Coco shoot you a perplexed look, saw her contort her face as if to ask, “what the hell is happening?”

Venable’s cane tapped on the floor. “Everyone, please,” she called, “I have an announcement to make. Some good news for you all.”

Excited whispers filled the room. You straightened in your seat. Venable waited until she had everyone’s attention, and then spoke with pride in her voice. “To renew with tradition and entertain you, we will now have board games nights. Whist, backgammon, chess.”

Was she… actually trying to be nice? Giving you all something to look forward to? A bit of fun, to help pass the time? You almost gawked at her.

She’s trying, a voice whispered in your head. What was it she had said? Make it acceptable to love her. You were vaguely aware of the tears that sprang to your eyes.

“Excuse me,” Coco blurted out, “I thought you’d said ‘good news’, not ‘you’re now officially living in a shitty Jane Austen novel’.”

Venable glared at her. You caught just a flash of pain in her eyes.  

“I think it’s a good idea,” you retorted before Venable had time to. “It’ll keep our minds distracted.”

“I don’t even know what whist and backgammon are,” said Andre. “And I’ve never played chess.”

“Of course you haven’t,” Venable sneered. “It will be the perfect opportunity to inject some knowledge into your vacuous brain.”

“Not as vacuous as that,” Andre retorted angrily, “seeing as you filled it with my boyfriend’s own brain.”

You had never seen Andre stand up to Venable before. Like the others, he had been too scared of her to dare contradict her. But now his voice was openly belligerent, his eyes shooting daggers at her, and his hands gripped the arms of his chair as if he were contemplating standing up. Something had changed, and it didn’t take you long to realize you were the cause. Or rather, Venable’s behavior to you. You had been insolent to her, and she had not punished you. She had not even verbally abused you.  

“What will it take,” Venable enunciated, “for you to finally understand me when I say that I did not feed you Stu?”

“Then where is he?” Andre growled, jumping to his feet, “And what was in the fucking stew?”

“Alright, okay, calm down,” you spoke, rising too, and holding out a hand in front of Andre. “I’ll teach you chess, okay? I know chess, I can teach you. Just, relax, man. Gosh.”

Andre glared at you. You raised your eyebrows at him. For a minute he stayed still, hands clenched into fists, and then he let out a breath and moved back to his chair.  

Coco threw her hands up in the air. “Board games nights it is,” she said sarcastically.

You turned to Venable. She was studying you, her expression strange, as if she could not quite decide between anger and gratefulness.

“Miss Y/L/N,” she said, her eyes locked with yours, “I do not need your help when it comes to dealing with idiots.”

You took your time to answer, to think of the right words to say. A smile crept up your lips again, and this time you let it.              

And you knew everyone in the room would be able to hear you. But you didn’t care. Blame it on the hydroxyzine. Blame it on the freaking interplanetary and most extraordinary occupants. The world had ended. You were exhausted. And you were falling for her.

When you spoke, your voice was a singsong, as insolent as it had been the evening before. “Why, fuck me, Ms Venable. I know that.”

[hellsbedroom]

Arvin Russell // NSFW Alphabet

arvin russell x reader

Masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Arvin needs a minute to recover, not gonna lie. He rests his forehead to yours and breathes the moment in. He’ll hold your cheek or squeeze your hand and whisper, “that was so good.” Then he always cleans you up with a damp rag and offers to get you a glass of water before laying back down. The afterglow is blissful, with your hand tracing shapes on his chest as he speaks softly and you doze off together.

B = Body part (favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s)

He never really thinks about it, but he supposes he appreciates his hands. They’re strong and lean and can be so harsh to people he wants to hurt. But at the same time they can be so soft with people he loves, especially you. He loves how you don’t mind the calloused pads of his fingers tracing over your skin after a long day at work.

And your legs could knock him flat any day. He loves their shape and how they look under any dress you’re wearing. He especially loves how good your legs feel when they’re draped over his hips when you straddle him. Squeezing your thighs is one of his favorite things in the world.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum basically)

If he can’t cum inside you, Arvin loves to cum on your chest. When you go down on him and let him drench your naked chest in cum he almost loses it. You just look so pretty and in love with him. He’s always good about cleaning it up after, especially if it got on any of your clothes. But even so, a little mess never hurt nobody ;)

D = Dirty secret (an interesting dirty secret of theirs)

He thinks about your lips all the time. Especially sitting in church, when things are supposed to be holy. He’ll dream of the curve of your lower lip or the new lipstick color you wore the day before. Thoughts of messing up that lipstick by making out or your pretty lips wrapped around his length always follow.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s had a little experience with a girl or two when he was in high school. Making out, fondling, he’s not totally new to the idea. But with you is the first time he really explores someone. And he’s a fast learner. It doesn’t take him long to figure out what makes you tick and where he can kiss you to make you moan like that. 

F = Fantasy (what’s their favorite fantasy/roleplay?)

Arvin will indulge in a nurse roleplay sometimes. You saunter in the room in a little white outfit with the red crosses and pretend to take care of him a bit (he answers everything with a smirk and “yes ma’am”) before he’s kissing you everywhere and trying to get the damn dress off. You take care of him so much in real life that a little fantasy play is the perfect way to spice things up.

G = Goofy (are they more serious or goofy in the moment?)

He can be playful with foreplay, anything to make you smile even while you’re just making out or trying to get your clothes off. But as things progress, he gets more serious. He wants to make sure you’re enjoying yourself and is so in awe of you that he sobers up and gets to work when you’re between the sheets.

H = Hair (how groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes?)

He’s not really worried about grooming, but he’ll trim if he knows that’s what you prefer.

I = Intimacy (how are they in the moment, romantic aspect)

A huge romantic. Arvin won’t always set up flowers or candles but he’s so focused on being close to you that everything else fades away. He gives constant praise and keeps his eyes locked on yours when you need it most. His favorite thing is to always be holding your hand if possible, and squeezing when either of you reaches climax. It’s a way to anchor himself to you because the moment is so important.

J = Jackoff (about masturbation)

A guy’s gotta get stress relief somehow. Especially if y’all spend a few days apart. He’ll pull one out in the shower thinking of the last time he saw your figure splayed out beneath him. Sometimes you’ll leave a few racy polaroids for him to find and they become a treasured part of the routine.

K = Kink (any kinks)

Marking you with bite marks or hickies — where no one can see, of course. Slight daddy kink (saying “c’mon daddy” will end him). Pulling his hair makes him grin and now he’s sure to keep those locks long. And of course a praise kink!!! Breathlessly moaning that he feels so good, he’s hitting the right spot, that you love him and he’s doing such a good job. All of it will send him in a tizzy.

L = Location (favorite place to do it)

His car! It gives the two of you the most privacy when you can go park in a clearing far away from everyone else. You’ve figured out just the right way to lay on the seat to make it work and Arvin hovering closely over you is nice anyway. And it gives him a little pride when he’s driving alone and thinks back to all the things you’ve done on those seats.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

A pretty new dress will do it, but what gets him most of all is when you sass him. Getting playful, sarcastically quipping at him, and teasing him with a twinkle in your eye. He cocks his head in surprise but loves it deep down. It makes him mutter “c’mere you” and chase you around, which always ends hot and heavy.

N = NO (something they won’t do, turn offs)

Hitting your face. It’s too degrading and he couldn’t bear it if he hurt you. 

O = Oral (giving and receiving)

Arvin is so eager to please, he wants to do right by you and one of the best ways he’s found is by fervently going down on you. Hearing the sounds you make and feeling you quiver around him sends him over the moon.

But you on your knees for him is a real pretty sight, too. You can make any bad day fade away with the things you do to him. He’ll never admit it, but he loves when you tease him, keeping him on the edge and driving him wild.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

If either of you have had a hard day, or you’re barely hidden in his car like giddy teenagers, he’ll be quicker and rougher. You’re breathing fast, his chest has a sheen of sweat, and his teeth glint in the darkness as he grins and takes you like there’s no tomorrow. Otherwise he’s on the slower side, taking his time to do it right. Burying himself in every inch of your form is important and you’re one of the most precious things in his life so he doesn’t like to be harsh. 

Q = Quickie (opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He has no real need for quickies; if he wants to fuck then he’s gonna do it properly and not let anyone rush him along. Especially if you’ve found a good secluded spot in the woods. Rushing it doesn’t allow him to fully appreciate you and your body anyway. On occasion it’ll happen if he has to head out to a work site for a few days and you can’t resist having him one more time.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment?)

He’s not too keen on being risky other than maybe being caught out in the woods. He likes stability when he finds it. You’re the one who has to shyly bring up new ideas in the bedroom and he might be a little hesitant, but he’s willing to try anything once. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

Early in the relationship Arvin busts quickly, he can’t help it. But now he can last decently long, especially because he follows the cardinal rule of getting you off first. And for stamina? The man is like an ox. As long as he has a bit of a breather between each round he can go for as long as you want.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them on a partner or themselves?)

You won’t find a lot of sex toys in 1960s small town America. Mostly he likes knowing he can get you off by himself anyway. But if you visit a big city and come back with a vibrator to play around with, he wouldn’t be opposed.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Usually Arvin gets right down to business, but he can get in moods where he’s a real tease. In public he’ll stick to pinching or swatting your ass when he’s in that mood. When you’re alone he’ll taunt, “you like that, pretty girl?” when he can tell you’re really enjoying yourself. Hearing you beg for him when he’s endlessly teasing makes his eyes blow wide and he can’t help but give in to you. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

Surprisingly, he’s not quiet. He’s no screamer but you will definitely hear that he’s having a good time. He’ll groan deep in his chest when you nip at his neck or when he’s sinking into you, and he’ll gasp your name near the finish. And he’s always talking to you in between, murmuring how good it feels.

W = Wildcard (random headcanon)

When he’s drunk: Arvin finds everything funny when he’s drunk. He chuckles at anything you do and will even take your hand and make you spin for him just so he can admire you. He leans on you more, burying his face in the crook of your neck even if you’re with friends and family. You’re always so happy to see him let loose and relax for a bit.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s in those pants)

He’s an average length and fairly girthy. Fills you up well. There’s also a curve to it that does wonders for you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Moderate. He can sometimes be really eager to get his hands on you, especially if you spend the weekend apart or something like that. Or he’ll sneak into your room late after you’ve gone on a date just to taste you again. But some days he just enjoys being around you with no pressure to perform in any way. 

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It varies. Sometimes Arvin will be out like a light as soon as he knows you’re satisfied and cleaned up. Other times he lays awake worrying for your safety or a dozen other things, and those nights you’re there to hold him and whisper the anxieties away with sweet nothings.

[someguynamedstevewrites]

My Roommate is an Apparition: WHAT A HORRIBLE NIGHT TO HAVE A DAD - Part 2

Based on characters created by @reddpenn

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Oh man, am I late on posting this.  So many things going on.  Not to mention figuring out how to follow up the first part.

It seems people really like the first-person narration from “A-Pink-Ciation of Culture”, so I went with that again with this piece.

Almost DAILY, I get likes or re-blogs and the occasional follower despite not having posted anything since March.  I’m very curious and would like to hear from you readers about what you like about my writing and what appeals to you.  Eventually, I want to make a living off of writing, but until that time, I definitely could use any and all feedback.

Anyway, now that that’s out of the way, on with the story!

 From the Diary of Lily, March 1st, 2020:

Okay, diary, I’m coming to you because I honestly have no idea where else to go to try and sort through the evening I just had with my Dad and Tulpa.   I can’t put my finger on it, but something about tonight just... bothers me!  It’s like I’m on pins and needles and can’t stop thinking about, well, a LOT of stuff.  Just... hear me out and maybe it’ll make sense if I put this all down on paper (I.E. You).  I just spent the last twenty minutes trying to talk things through out loud, but that got me nowhere so here goes nothing:

First off, my Dad came to visit a week earlier than what I had planned, and immediately sets up shop in my living room with his NES and copy of Castlevania III.  Only problem was I hadn’t talked with Tulpa about his visit since I was expecting him until NEXT weekend.  I kept thinking that the last thing I wanted was for anything weird to happen during his visit.

Which, looking back on it, was a really stupid thing to worry about.

I mean, Dad’s a pretty open-minded guy and he’s quite weird himself.  He’s actually quite proud of his weirdness (embarrassing as it is sometimes).  He tends to under-react to all kinds of things like it’s no big deal.  I’ve even asked him why he doesn’t freak out about some of the stuff he comes across in real life or on TV, and he just tells me, “I’ve seen weirder.”   (If some of the stories he’s told me are true, then he has.  He really, REALLY has!)

For example: if Tulpa had come into the room holding a... I dunno, a plate or something, like would that really freak my Dad out?  Pfft, No!  He (maybe?) wouldn’t see her, all he’d see was a “flying saucer” (he deliberately would make that lame pun too), and then get back to his game.  Then later, he’d try and tell me about the real flying saucers he saw years ago, or something.

Since I had assumed that Dad wouldn’t have been able to see her, it eventually clicked in my head that what I was actually worrying about was, “what would Tulpa think of my Dad?”  He’s a huge Goofus that likes to make bad jokes, tell tall tales, and play video games!  And even if he did weird her out, it’s not like she could go anywhere... right?  I mean, she might avoid interacting with me because of him, but...

Oh...

Oh wow...

I just read what I just wrote and I can not believe I was being THAT irrational!  ( Man, people are stupid sometimes; me included!)

Avoid me because of my DAD!?   That’s gotta be the dumbest thing I’ve ever thought!   It’s not like he LIVES here or anything!   He’s not the one paying the rent; I am!  And... I’ve gotten to know Tulpa pretty well these past few months, but... I guess I still have a lot more to learn about her.  Case in point:

————————————-

So Tulpa tells me that she wants to meet my Dad, and after coming to my senses somewhat, I say she can sit in so long as she doesn’t touch anything (see flying saucer explanation above).  A few minutes later, she walks in looking like the tall girl from Keep Your Hands off Eizouken (I had to look the name up; I couldn’t remember it for the life of me).  By that I mean, she’s coming in as a tall, lanky, skinny, somewhat pale skinned girl looking to be about my age.  She’s wearing some modest clothes and, if I’m being honest with myself, they looked kind of cute in that outfit they had on.  It was a nice ensemble.

Then Dad says “Hi” to her.

...

Let me repeat that in case it hasn’t clicked with you yet.

My Dad GREETED her!

He! SAW! Her!

When I asked her about it later, she said to me that she thought that since he’s my Dad, then whatever it is that allows me to see her could be something my Dad has too.  So far, her theory has been proven right, but... I’m not one-hundred percent sure, because Tulpa... well... she changed.

And I’m being literal here, too!  She no longer had that transparency to her like usual.  She had a nose!  She had ears!  She had five fingers!  And she looked...

...well...

...good.

Tulpa said she had never tried doing this before, but figured that in the off-chance that her hunch was correct, she wanted to make a good impression on my Dad.  (Why do I keep thinking about that old joke in movies and TV shows about the overprotective Dad that threatens the boy about to go on a date with their daughter?)  She even went so far as to create her own “clothes”, saying she knew they’d be important.  Considering that she doesn’t wear (or need) clothes any other time, I ask her how she came to that conclusion.  I still have no idea what she meant when she suddenly bellowed out, “GOOD...!  GRIEF...!  HE’S...!  NAKED!”

[Edit:  It’s from Spongebob, because of course it was.]

So I’m not sure if Dad could see her because she purposely made herself opaque, or if he would have been able to see her if she wasn’t in her human “disguise” (and yes, I’m calling it a disguise and I’ll explain why a bit later, okay?).  But either way, she walks in and my Dad just starts chatting away like so:

————————————-

“Hi there! You must be Lily’s roommate!” says Dad.

At this point, I’m kind of frozen solid on the couch, just watching and listening as everything unfolds in front of me like it’s being burned into my retinas.  You know that saying about slow-motion train wrecks? Y’know, about how you can’t look away from them? This is probably why I remember the conversation so well.

“Heh...Hello,” she responds back nervously.

“I’m Lily’s Dad,” he says as if it wasn’t obvious, “Hope you don’t mind if we play some games out here.”

Tulpa shakes her head and stutters out, “No...N-not at all.”

“Great!” Dad responded with a smile that said, “Even if it was bothering you, I’m still going to take up the TV and play video games.  So nyeh!”  I’ve lived with him long enough to know that he’s not someone who would give up the TV without a fight.

(...gee... that kind of reminds me of someone now that I think about it...)

Tulpa then asks, “M-mind if... I watch?”

Dad gives her this big, goofy smile and responds with a, “Sure thing!” since despite him never admitting to it, he always liked having an audience around when he played games (or almost anything really) in hopes of “schooling” them. (Why he didn’t go into teaching, I will never understand.)

As soon as Dad turns back to his game and un-pauses it, Tulpa smiled, sat back, and looked content (Although it was a little weird seeing her smile with a nose to go along with it.) This snaps me out of my stupor long enough to scootch over to Tulpa and chat with her.

“You actually want to watch him play?” I ask her once more because the mere thought that she’d be interested in something outside of cartoons still hadn’t registered in my head, yet.

“Yeah...” she says as she starts to stare at the screen like she usually does during her cartoon time. “...sounded... familiar,” she said before looking up slightly while lost in thought, “...Simon... Belmont... Mega... Man... Kid... Icarus...” she said again as though that meant something. To me it just sounded almost like some kind of madness mantra, but...

“Oh! You mean Captain N: The Game Master!” my Dad chimed in out of seemingly nowhere.

“YES!” Tulpa said with excitement (worth noting that she doesn’t look excited very often, but when she does, she practically glows). “I remember...” she said before pausing to collect her thoughts and form the words she wanted to say. If I could have, I would have warned her about my Dad’s tendency to pounce on any hesitation in a conversation to take it over.

“Man, I haven’t seen Captain N in decades,” he said wistfully, “Surprised someone young as you remembers it.   I was in High School when that show came on!   When did you see it?”

“Ummm...” she hesitated, “...reruns... when I was... a kid.”

(As I’m writing this down now, I realize she was trying to hide her actual age from Dad. She looked to be in her early twenty’s like I was, but if she said she saw it when it came on the air originally, that’d make her over thirty years old at least.)

“Ahhhh! I see you have good taste in reruns!” Dad complimented.

“Th-thank you,” she stuttered back. As I listened to the awkward conversation of father-roommate bonding, I found my eyes constantly turning towards Tulpa. Not out of adoration or anything, but more like... studying her.

————————————-

On the one hand, she looked like the Tulpa that I had known ever since she became my roommate months ago.  But on the other hand, they somehow weren’t.   It’s kind of like when someone changes their looks a bit for maybe, I dunno, a night on the town, a job interview, a wedding, or something else along those lines.  Only in her case, “dressing up” meant adding additional body parts she didn’t normally have.

(To be honest, I’m still not entirely sure what to think about that...)

I’ve always been a firm believer of people being themselves, and being allowed to be themselves.  I can’t stand situations where people are unable to truly express themselves or feel comfortable.  Way I see it, life is too short to be spent worrying over stupid stuff that makes people miserable just so they can come off as normal.

Sometimes it’s because of social norms and expectations; those unspoken rules of life that people are supposed to just magically “know”.  Like if someone was going to a church or temple service, social norms say they need to wear their “Sunday Best” with stiff, itchy clothes that are dry clean only.  If I was able to go to a sermon wearing a baggy college sweatshirt, sweatpants, and slippers, and NOT be judged like I’m some kind of crazy hobo, it would have definitely made something like that more appealing to me.

Now I have nothing against anyone that likes to dress up in fancy clothes and wear them out and about; I mean, everyone likes different things, right? The point is that if I’m going to do something that makes me uncomfortable, it should be because I wanted to do it for myself.   I don’t think I should bend over backwards making myself feel bad (physically or mentally) for someone else’s sake.  Sure, call me selfish if you must, but I just can’t advocate for doing something that makes you feel bad because you wanted someone else to feel good.

I’m just thankful no one in my family has ever tried to push anything on me.  Sure, they’ve suggested things to me before, and of course made sure I didn’t do something stupid that would injure me or worse when I was too young to know better.  But overall, my family has given me a lot of freedom to do what I want, dress how I want, and be who I want to be.  Now that I think about it, I’m kind of lucky that way.

(I hope I’m making sense on this. Re-reading this, I’m not entirely sure if I do.)

————————————-

Anyway, I’m looking at Tulpa and watching them carefully, trying to figure out if they were comfortable looking like that or not.  She’s just sitting there watching my Dad play Castlevania III, and he was now on the haunted pirate ship with Trevor and Sypha.  He was breezing through at a pretty good pace and sharing an anecdote about how Warren Ellis figuratively gave him the “Turd Cape of Shame” on this old message board back when the Castlevania series on Netflix was just an idea back in 2007.  (I still am not entirely sure if that story is true or not.)

“Hey Lily,” Dad asks suddenly out of the blue, “got anything to drink?”  I offer him some lemonade, he accepts, and I go to the kitchen to pour him a glass.  As I’m doing this, I hear Dad ask Tulpa, “By the way, I don’t think I caught your name.  What was it again?”

“...Tulpa...” she says back to him.

My body freezes up for a moment as I realized that “Tulpa” is not an ordinary name.  I mean the first time she told me her name, it sounded like some kind of Pokémon.  Once again, that irrational fear of my Dad being weirded out or something enters my head, but is dispelled almost immediately.

“Tulpa?” my Dad says aloud to himself, “That’s a very interesting name.”

“T-Thank you...” she says back.

I walk in with a glass of pink lemonade and set it down on a little, folding TV dinner stand that was given to me when I first moved out for college.  I slowly sit back down again as I keep an eye on Dad.  His facial expression is the same as usual: relaxed.  You could call it a poker face, but I’ve seen him play poker and he is BAD at poker.

“Anyone in your family Buddhist?” my Dad asks casually.

I step in, “Dad!  What kind of a question is that!?”  And I meant what I said too. Who even asks something like that!?

“I was just wondering,” he says before once again shutting up and focusing on his game.

This is one of the things about my Dad that bugs me to no end: he likes to be cagey sometimes.  He’ll say something vague with the sole purpose of making the other person curious, confused, or both.  It leaves, like, questions in the back of your head that just start gnawing at your brain and won’t stop chewing away at your gray matter until you finally ask him to explain what the heck he was talking about.    He does this on purpose to “bait” people into asking him questions or to continue with what he’s saying.  So annoying!

I sigh, “Why’s that, Dad?”

He gives a little smile and continues, “Oh it’s just that this isn’t the first time I’ve heard the name “Tulpa” before, that’s all.”

NOW he has my total undivided attention and Tulpa’s too as we both unconsciously lean forward.  Practically in sync, we both say, “It’s not!?”

He’s still smiling as he says, “Nope.  First time I heard that name was when I was doing some monster research for a Castlevania Wiki I had been working on a while back.”

Tulpa practically gulps, “M-M-Monster...?”

“Well not really a monster,” he says back, “more like... a supernaturally, artificially created person.” 

(There are some times when my Dad can be down right spooky and creepy.  This was one of those times.)

Full Metal Alchemist immediately pops into my head, and without even hesitating, I ask, “Like a Homunculus?”

“Nah, more like...” he says before pausing his game and turning to Tulpa and I, “...an imaginary friend.”  Tulpa and I both tilt our heads in confusion.  Dad picks up on this and by now, he is practically glowing at this opportunity to share some weird thing he just happens to know something about.

He explains, “So there’s this word in Tibetan called “Sprul-Pa” which means “Manifestation”, okay?  And in early Buddhism, this is used as the explanation for how Gautama Buddha could travel to heavenly realms and come back again.  You could say he created a clone of himself in the other realm and then transmitted his consciousness to it from his body on Earth.  Kind of like a-”

By now, Tulpa and I were clearly on the same wavelength as she asks, “a Shadow Clone!?” at the exact same time I was thinking of it. Believe it!

Dad’s silent for a moment as he thinks to himself before finally going, “...uhhh... I guess... you could say that. I was thinking “Dream Body” but I suppose a shadow clone could work too.”  My Dad used to watch Naruto with me on Toonami years ago, so he knew full well what a shadow clone was.

He turns to face us as he continues talking, “The thing with a Tulpa is that it’s something made from nothing. A Homunculus, using your example, Lily, requires having the materials necessary to make an artificial being on hand before you can create them. But a Tulpa is willed into existence out of nothingness. It is created from the thoughts of the creator; known as a “Thoughtform” in some cases.”

(WHEN did my Dad even learn this stuff!?)

“The difference between a Tulpa and an imaginary friend,” my Dad continued to say, “is that while an imaginary friend is just that, someone that exists in your imagination, a Tulpa is made when someone’s thoughts are so strong that they will their imaginary friend into existence.”

I look over at Tulpa, and she is totally absorbed in what my Dad’s saying.

“Now from what I’ve read...” Oh my God, Dad! What have you even been reading!? “...it’s very difficult for one person alone to have enough psychic power to will a sentient being into creation. But if you had enough people thinking the same thing, and thinking about it hard enough, then, hypothetically, a Tulpa could be created.”

“So what you’re saying is if enough people think Bigfoot is real, then they can actually make it real just by believing in them?” I snark.

“Yeah, pretty much,” my Dad replies without detecting my snark at all.

“Or like...” Tulpa chimes in, “...how Tinkerbell is saved... by believing in fairies and... clapping hands?” I was a bit surprised Tulpa knew that since I couldn’t recall Disney’s Peter Pan having that scene in it.

Dad thinks about it for a moment, and then goes, “Hmmmmm... yeah! That too, I suppose.”

Right about then, Dad gets a notification on his phone. He pulls it out, looks at it, gets a somewhat serious look on his face, and then stands up and says, “Hey, I gotta make a phone call real quick. Mind if I...” he trails off.

“Yeah, sure thing, Dad,” I say back. He heads down the hallway to the guest bedroom and closes the door as he makes his call. It’s now just Tulpa and me in the living room, and we were both feeling super awkward. I turn to Tulpa and say, “So... did you know anything about all that?”

Tulpa shook her head, “N-n-no. First time I... I ever heard of... of it.” I could tell she was feeling nervous. She had started stuttering pretty badly.

All this time, I knew Tulpa was an apparition, but I never thought about what kind of apparition she was. It never really dawned on me that an apparition could have an origin story. With Tulpa, she was just... kind of there for me, and I never really questioned it. Her being her somehow felt, I dunno... “natural”, I guess.

I never thought I really needed to learn more about Tulpa, anyway. I mean, outside of the occasional mischief, Tulpa was perfectly harmless. Worst thing she ever did was the Pinkening (still don’t know how she did that), but that was partly on me because I was being a big dummy. Overall, she’s always been friendly, kind, and fun to be around, and that‘s always been good enough for me.

“You, uh...” I start to say, “...want to talk about it later?” Tulpa looks ahead of her kind of blankly, and I immediately add, “It’s okay if you don’t want to, Tulpa, I just-“

“Talk about what?” She asks, now looking at me kind of confused.

“About...” I trail off as I try to find the right words, “...about what my Dad just said and about... I dunno... where you came from?”

Tulpa clearly hadn’t thought about it before. She leaned back against the couch and audibly sighed (I think that was the first time I ever heard them sigh!), before saying, “I... don’t know... Lily...”

“Don’t know where you came from, or don’t know if you want to talk about it?” I asked her.

She thought for a moment before saying, “Both...”

I wanted to say something more to her, maybe give them some kind of reassurance, but I just couldn’t as long as my Dad was here! The frustration of wanting to talk about something with someone, but not being able to because of other people being around, is just AGONIZING!  If only Dad would hurry up and leave, but when he says he’s going to beat a video game, he’s going to beat a video game.  Problem was he hadn’t even made it to Dracula’s Castle yet, so who knew how much longer it would be?

Then Dad comes back in and says, “Hey, sorry about this, but I need to get going.”

HAAAAAALLEJUAH!!!

“Oh sweet merciful powers that be, THANK YOU! “  I thought to myself.  I was worried things were going to get all cringy like a bad self-insert fanfic.   “Aww, that’s too bad,” I fibbed out of politeness.  I mean, he’s my Dad and I love him and all, but... y’know...

“Yeah, I got a call from work and they need me to help out with something. ‘Fraid I have to cut my visit short, Lily.” My Dad powered off the Nintendo system and began packing it up. But then he suddenly stopped, looked up, then looked back at me and said, “Hey, you want to borrow my NES for a bit!?”

Dad suddenly leaving to take care of something for work happens every now and then, so that was no big surprise. But Dad suddenly saying he has to leave to take care of something and leave his NES in MY care!? THAT scared the pants off me!

“Oh my God, Dad... you’re not dying are you!?” I ask with a half-serious tone.

“What!? No! What gave you that idea!?” He shoots back.

“Because that’s the NES you’ve had ever since you were a kid! You have NEVER let anyone else look after it! EVER!” I remind him because it is one-hundred percent true.

His lame-sauce excuse was: “Hey, both of your uncles used to look after it!”

And then I remind him, “That’s because you all lived in the same house with grandma and grandpa!  Y’know, because you were all kids and everything!”

“They still took care of it,” he pouts.

“Only after they sneaked into your room, de-hooked it, and snuck it over to their room!  You know I’ve heard the stories at the family gatherings!, right?” This is all completely true.

————————————-

My Dad is the oldest of three, and at family gatherings, like around Thanksgiving, he and my uncles used to tell as many embarrassing stories about each other as possible like they were trying to one-up each other. Like, “Hey, remember that time you stuck a LEGO tire up your nose and had to go to the Emergency Room?”

And my uncle’s all like, “I WAS FOUR!”

Good times....

...now where was I?

Oh right!  Why leaving the Nintendo was a big deal!

————————————-

“C’mon, Dad,” I plead, “The only way I can see you willingly giving away your Nintendo, even if just for a little while, would be if you were on your death bed and filling out your last will and testament. So go on, spill it, what’s up with that?”

My Dad just had this look of offense on his face like I had seriously wounded him with my words. “I am NOT that overprotective of it!”

“Yes you are.”

“Okay, I am,” he admits way too quickly, “but I just thought that you having it might be a good idea in case you finally get some free time coming up. Best way to enjoy it is to play it, after all.”

I chuckle, “Dad, the only way work is going to give me enough time off to sit on my butt and play video games is if some horrible catastrophe caused the art store to shut down. Like, I dunno, a deadly virus or something.”

[EDIT, APRIL 12th, 2020: ME AND MY BIG FAT MOUTH!

AAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!]

Dad chuckles and say, “Yeah... you got a point there. Still, I think between you and your roommate, you’re both responsible adults now who can get some enjoyment out of it. I’m sure I can trust you two to take good care of it,” he says before raising an eyebrow, “or is there some reason I shouldn’t leave it here!?”

“Relax! We can look after it, Dad. Nothing’s going to happen to it,” I say as I whip my head back so fast it could have made a sonic boom. Just as I suspected, there was Tulpa sitting down in front of the Nintendo about ready to poke it with her finger. “Isn’t that right, Tulpa?” I say while looking straight at her.

“Y-yes...” she mutters.

Dad smiles at the two of us and then suddenly, out of the blue, he gives me this big ole bear hug and pats me on the back!  It’s the same kind of hug he gave me on my first day at school, when I was leaving for summer camp, and when I moved into my freshman dorm for college.  It was the kind of reassuring hug that says everything is going to be fine.  “Ohhhhhhh, look at you growing up and being all responsible! I’m so proud of you, Lily!”

“Dad!  Can’t breath, Dad!” I say before he finally lets go.

“Oh yeah, tomorrow, when you get a chance, make sure to pick up a couple packages of toilet paper,” he says casually, “your bathroom’s running low and now would be a good time to stock up.”

[EDIT April 12th, 2020: HE FREAKING KNEW! 

HOW!?!?!?]

“Thanks for the tip, Dad,” I respond before saying the thing that led to my Dad saying the other thing that would make my brain do somersaults for the next few hours and ultimately come to you, dear diary, “What brought up that little nugget of wisdom? Dad-ly Intuition?”  (Yes, that pun was intentional.)

“Well I’ve always considered myself to be a little psychic here and there,” he says about twenty-three seconds before the door closes and forty-five seconds before my face faults, “and you’ve always been a little psychic too, haven’t yah?”

“Sure Dad, I’ll catch you later,” I say waving goodbye.

“Take care, Lily!  Keep in touch!  Love you, sweetie!” he calls back as he’s walking into the hallway heading out,

“Love you too, Dad” I say as I close the door and lock the deadbolt. With that family obligation out of the way, I was feeling much better not having to worry about next weekend, not having to worry about Tulpa and Dad, and could just chill and relax and-

It was right about then that my eyes shot wide open as I stared ahead of me at nothing in particular.  The gears in my head started turning faster and faster as the past few months living here started to tie together.  Tulpa looks at me, slightly concerned.  She’s still in her “disguise”, but looks genuinely concerned.  She waves her hand it front of me and my mind is working at warp speed, so it doesn’t even register.

“Are you... okay... Lily?” she asks.

I slowly turn to look her in the eye, and then ask her flat out:

“Am I Psychic!?”

[gretavanfleetposts]

hiiii! i would love to see who you guys ship me with!:)

1. pronouns- she/her (maybe she/they still questioning lmao)

2. zodiac signs- sun sign is gemini, moon is libra, and rising is libra

3. favorite movie- ummm right now it’s spider-man no way home and if you haven’t seen it go see it right now it’s so amazing

4. introverted or extroverted- i’m definitely more introverted when it comes to meeting new people but much more outgoing around my friends and family

5. skill or talent- i think a skill i have is i am very artsy/crafty. i love to make and create things. it is one of the ways i am able to let my emotions out freely and in the process create something beautiful.

6. go to pick-me-up song- crosstown traffic by jimi hendrix

7. what i look for in a partner- obviously everyone wants someone who has traits like being kind, compassionate, understanding, and respectful but i think one thing that is important to me is that they appreciate the little things in life. i want someone who will take each day as it comes and appreciate the good that comes with it even in hard times. someone who will look at my flaws and see them as the things that make me beautiful. someone i can share goofy moments with but still have long interesting deep talks about the way we see life.

8. favorite item of clothing- band tees, i feel like that’s a bit cliche but a band tee goes with everything. you can wear it casual with jeans and minimal hair and makeup. you can dress it up for a night out with a skirt and throw on some makeup. you can sleep in it or wear it with sweatpants. you can wear it anyway you want while repping your favorite bands. the options are endless really.

9. my favorite animal- a ferret. BRO have you seen ferrets? go look it up right now on youtube. you will not be disappointed i promise. it is an instant dose of serotonin. they are the earths cutest creatures.

10. my ideal date- okay so i’m torn between two options. one being going to a concert to our favorite band and dancing and singing at the top of our lungs all night and the other being staying in and making dinner together and having a game night obviously teasing each other about how we would beat each other at the games we were playing.

Hello, beautiful! I ship you with Josh!

I know, I know, I ship like everyone with Josh. But listen, I actually just ship you with myself so. Your only flaw is that your favorite animal is a ferret but I might be biased because one time I was bit by a ferret in the basement of a church and I don't know, it just felt ominous 🤷‍♀️ Okay but really, Josh is one of those people I can see just sticking by you faithfully as you figure out your identity. And that's absolutely what you deserve. Also, I don't know if he's into spiderman the way we are (see? we're perfect for each other) but he would absolutely sit down and watch all of the spiderman movies with you so he could really appreciate No Way Home when you inevitably go see it in theaters for a second time (as you should, shit was good). I say it all the time and I'll say it again: Josh will keep every little craft you make for him and take them all on tour with him just to feel like he has a piece of you with him. He could talk to you all day long about deep stuff; you'd probably never run out of anything to talk about, honestly. And he would just be so honest and open with you. I think Josh is a rare type of person who is just so genuine and finds meaning in everything in his life and I think that's definitely something you'd appreciate.

- ⭐

Submit requests here!

[revchainsaw]

The Crow (1994)

Alright Cult of Cult. Do I really need to introduce this one? Let's get all 90s and gothy and maybe brace ourselves for a bit of cringe, but like in a fun way. It's the Holy Grail of Hot Topic, 1994's the Crow Starring Brandon Lee.

Sermon

Apparently before the auto industry totally crashed Detroit was already a total fucked to death pile of burning shit, or at least that's what the crow would have you believe. Sorry Bruce Campbell, and other people from Detroit, but mostly Bruce Campbell. According to the Crow the city of Detroit is the kind of place where gangs of warlock anarchist arsonists will bomb buildings, and murder and rape whoever they feel like and then walk around bragging about it the next day with absolutely zero consequences. Funny then that if Detroit was so bad they had to go to film this movie in Wilmington North Carolina which is definitely a fucked to death pile of burning shit. I can say that, I'm from there and I got the fuck out. My brother is going to kill me if he ever reads this. (It's okay, these are all jokes people). Did you know they also filmed the Super Mario Bros movie there ... also cuz they needed a really shitty looking distopia. Moving on ...

The ludicrous criminality of the Crow's Detroit is particularly on display on Halloween. In Detroit (apparently) Halloween is known as Devils Night and it's legitimately just a night of pure lawlessness and chaos and kids aren't even safe to get candy, except later when we do see trick or treaters. Eric Draven, hunky goth rocker who sort of looks like he could be Bruce Lee's Kid and his fiance are murdered by a gang of vicious criminals. One year hence, Eric is resurrected by a mystical crow (that is actually a Raven), to exact his revenge on the gang that murdered him.

He paints his face like sad Alice Cooper and refuses to listen to Joy Division, just covers. He murders Tin Tin (a knife guy) just for his long gothy duster, he murders Fun Boy and forcibly ejects heroine from her arms and tells her "Go be a good mom now" which actually works. (have I told you about our Lord and Savior Sting? He gave me the strength to get off drugs), he blows T Bird up dick first, and then comes for Skab? Scraap? Scooby? in a meeting of all of Detroits villains and just about kills them all.

He is supported by the most 90s little girl to have ever graced the screen, and I am here for it, and Officer Albrecht, who's played by Ernie Hudson but I like to call him Zeddemore: The Most Underrated Ghostbuster. The leader of the bad guys, who I cannot beleive wasn't played by Brad Dourif or Tom Waits, is pretty interested in the occult. He keeps his witchy girlfriend around and she makes him fun dishes like smoked eyeballs, and her main use is that she knows that the Crow is the Crows weakness. They set Tony Fucking Todd on the bird, and I guess you just have to hurt the bird and not kill it, and Eric loses his healing factor and other macabre undead powers.

The Crow, Jimmy the Raven, pecks out Dr. Girlfriends eyeballs, I honestly forget how Tony Todd gets offed, and Top Dollar gets Gargoyled (that is impaled on a gargoyle). Funnily enough that is more Gargoyle related impaling on screen then in the actual movie Gargoyle: Wings of Darkness where a Gargoyle is supposed to have impaled a guy.

The Benediction

Best Feature: Injustice League

In the Crow we have not only a set of super memorable villains but they are played by the bad guy all stars. John Polito as the most lowly of the bad guys as a kind of sleazy pawn shop owner who buys ill gotten gains. Tony Todd, who's size is really on display here, the freaking Candy Man is in this movie. T Bird is the head of Top Dollars goons and is played by David Patrick Kelly, you might know as the "Warriors Come Out and Play!!" bottle guy from the Warriors, or as Jimmy Horne from Twin Peaks, and of course Top Dollar himself is played by Michael Wincott. Wincott is not a particularly celebrated actor but has played villains effectively in Robin Hood, the Three Musketeers, and Dead Man.

Best Set Piece: Detroit Style Hot Dogs

The Set design of the Crow is perhaps one of it's most fantastic features. It's very moody and ethereal. It's just real enough to not take you out of the film, but fantastic enough to set mood and theme above realism. From Eric Draven's apartment, to the church where the final battle occurs they are all fantastic. I think that's why I really wanted to shine the spot light on a very minor set piece that would get nary a mention but just as effectively represents the qualities I was just talking about and that is the Maxi Doggs Hot Dog Stand, where a lot of the films exposition for audience surrogates takes place.

Worst Effect: Freeze Frame

At a few points in the movie the film makers made a strange decision to do these freeze frame transitions. I only noticed it twice in the movie where it was particularly stupid. I'm sure the film makers at the time thought it was a moody and atmospheric choice that highlighted the suffering that Eric Draven was going through, but it didn't age well. If you don't have the sensibilities of a goth girl from 1994 then it's very very hard not to laugh at just how self involved the movie is about it's super sadness.

Worst Feature: Tragic Accident

Solely based on the film itself, it is that very gothic and dated sensibility that hurts the Crow. The little sarcastic dance he does when he flees the police, quoting Edgar Allen Poe, and bowing to Albrecht. These affected behaviors that I'm sure seemed snarky and right on to the target audience only serve to make Eric Draven seem like an unbearable neck beard edgelord and not the troubled dark soul he's supposed to be. I'm sure at the time it seemed unique and gothy but that shit went out of style for good reason, people could see through it. It's a shame that the Crow himself was some of the cringiest parts of this movie now that I'm seeing it as an adult and not a 13 year old middle class boy with no real problems.

This however is not the low point of the movie. It's not news now and if you're reading some dudes review of The Crow on Tumblr then you probably already know the story. The worst thing about The Crow is that Brandon Lee was horrifically killed on set while filming this movie due to some negligible prop malfunctions. A series of unfortunate events that lead to the actor spending 6 hours in surgery fighting for his life before eventually passing. It was not a quick or painless death and it's really impossible to watch the movie without an appreciation for the fact that this kind of fun dark adventure was going to be a vehicle for Brandon Lee's career wound up taking his life. He was 28. I really wish I could have just bitched about the goofy goth stuff and moved on, but that's not the world we live in.

Best Effect: The Gargoyling

Maybe I should have called this best kill. But I'm not sure which it is. The slaying of Top Dollar at the Climax of the film was just super effective. The pointed wings impaling his chest and that horn coming out of his mouth, it was morbid and excellent and just fit the tone of the movie perfectly. I mean how many other movies can you say Cause of Death: Impaled on a Gargoyle.

Best Bird: The Raven

I tried very hard to look up the name of the bird that primarily performed in this movie and could not find anything. There was a Raven once upon a time called Jimmy the Raven, but that was in the 50s and I don't think birds live that long. There was a team of Ravens performing as the crow, they were chosen over crows for their larger size, and more imposing silhouettes. I just think it's so wonderful to see these often maligned birds get a chance to show off their talents. Corvids of all kinds are incredibly intelligent creatures. Im a sucker for animals, if you haven't already figured that out. I really liked seeing the ravens hit their marks, particularly the one whos job it was to drop the wedding ring into Sarah's hand at the end of the film. You can see that greedy little bastard do his trick and then look of camera at his trainer like "treat please!". It's very cute.

Best Actor: Top Dollar Performance

I'd love to take this opportunity to just put praise upon Brandon Lee, he truly gave everything for this role, but unfortunately with what was put to film we actually have very few character moments with Eric Draven. Stuff happens to him, and he does killings and fights. There's definitely some personality, but I felt like I walked away knowing almost nothing about who Eric Draven was. He was clearly a good dude but that and a few hobbies and a relationship and you don't really have a character yet. He's unfortunately not given a lot of acting to do, instead just relegated to stunts and action sequences. That were notably cool.

The bad guys in the Crow have a lot more character and among this who's who of character actors, Michael Wincott takes the cake. Hell he was standing next to Candyman himself, Tony Todd and still stealing the scenes.

Best Character: A Few Good Apples

Is the best character in The Crow really going to be the cop? The commissioner Gordon stand in? yeah, it is. Not to be political, but I don't like cops, but I guess in a world with magical birds and eyeball smoking I can suspend my disbelief and let Ernie Hudson be #1 cop dad. His character is really the heart of the film, since all Eric can do is brood and fight, we have to care about someone in this movie.

Best Sequence: Halloween Party

The best sequence of the movie is of course the scene where Eric Draven busts in on the Devil's Night party planning commission. I think Top Dollar brought Scrappy Doo there just so he could lure out the crow, knowing the baddest assholes in all of Detroit would be gathered it was likely that somebody was going to kill the beast, or if they couldn't at least Top Dollar could get a feel for his enemy. It's a bullet flying action sequence with a ton of weight. I can't put my finger on this all to common weightless third act problem that big budget super hero and action flicks have nowadays, but whatever that issue is, the Crow does not have that issue. From this point on the Climax feels earned and I am invested. For that reason, The Crow is honestly better in spite of its awkwardness, than many of the super hero movies out today.

Worst Sequence: My Guitar Gently Weeps

Speaking of brooding or fighting. The best sequence was fighting, the worst is brooding. I get that Eric was in a band or something, but didn't he have shit to do. It seemed like it was a cool idea for a shot, but for like a whole seen, watching somebody play an 80s guitar solo, that stood out so brazenly from the choices of music in the rest of the movie was extra corny. It felt like someone's( dad trying to relate to their kid. Oh you like Music. The Dresden Dolls eh? Oh man, then you're going to love Slash's Snake Pit!

Summary

The Crow is dated. It is iconic but I wonder how many of the people that hang that poster on the wall have watched that movie since they were kids. It's interesting how what i've liked and disliked about this film have changed so much sense I was a kid. It's a cheeseball fiesta. If you have matured at all beyond thinking that being sad is the same as being deep then you're going to like it a little less than you did when you were younger, but it is still solid. There's not much to hate on. I'd watch it over and over again. I was really afraid it would not hold up at all, but returning to The Crow was a completely positive experience.

Overall Grade: B

[plaidbooks]

A Glimpse of the Future part 4

A/N: You all have @the-baby-bookworm to thank for this--first for asking for it and second for helping me come up with panicking Sonny (when discussing part 3, she mentioned “that dick game so strong, she’d get pregnant even with birth control”). This is the finale (as far as I know, who the hell knows anymore?), so I hope you all enjoy!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Tags: A lot of Catholic guilt

Words: 1324

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @reading--mermaid @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball

Shit…SHIT! Sonny was going to freak out! Hell, you were freaking out! You sat in your car, still parked in the parking lot of your doctor’s office after a routine checkup. You ran your hand over your face. How were you going to tell him that you were…? No, maybe if you didn’t think the words, it wouldn’t be true. But that’s not how real life worked. You sighed, pulling your phone out of your purse, calling your fiancé, looking at the engagement ring sitting innocently on your left hand.

“Hey, Sonny, we need to talk….”

 ***************

You knew it was a shitty thing to do, to tell him you needed to talk when he got off work, but to not give him details over the phone. But you didn’t know what else to do, and you couldn’t tell him over the phone. No, this had to be face-to-face, and you couldn’t deal with this alone. Sonny promised to be home as soon as he could, even after you reassured him that you were safe, that you were okay. All that left was for you to sit and wait. You idly looked for houses again; you and Sonny had found a handful that seemed like a perfect fit, and now you were going over them again with a fine-toothed comb.

Finally, mercifully, you heard the key in the front door, Sonny rushing in, looking worried. He didn’t even bother taking his jacket off as he quickly made his way over to you.

“Babe, what’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, brow furrowed, concern lacing his voice.

“Well, you know how I had a doctor’s appointment today?” you started. He nodded, the creases on his forehead deepening. You took a deep breath before the words that would change your lives forever left your lips. “I’m pregnant.”

Sonny stood there, struck dumb, unmoving. He was a statute as he stared at you. “B-but you’re on birth control…how, what—?”

“Those pills aren’t 100%, babe, you know that. And I’m six weeks pregnant…it’s from our engagement night,” you whispered, your face warming as you remembered how Sonny had taken you that night, so that ‘everyone would know you were his’. Well, now they would.

The gears were turning in his head as he sat down on the couch. “Okay,” he muttered, nodding to himself. “Okay…pregnant…wow. You’re…we’re….”

“What are we gonna do, Dom?” you asked, trying to shake him out of whatever trance he was in. It was true that you both wanted kids, that this was a miracle. But you wanted to be married first, have a house. And God only knew how his family would react. You loved the Carisi’s, but all of them, Sonny included, were very Catholic. Having a baby out of wedlock was…less than ideal.

Sonny’s eyes snapped up to yours. “Have you told anyone else yet?”

“No, of course not.”

“Okay, that’s good. We just need to get married now, before anyone knows, before you start…showing,” he said, mind working quickly.

You huffed out a laugh. “Do you honestly think no one will notice how quickly we got married? Or the fact that we’ll have a baby less than nine months after our wedding?”

“Shit, no, you’re right,” he ran his hand through his hair, clearly panicking. “Fuck, I don’t know what to do, babe. I-I need to go to church, talk to my priest….”

He stood to leave, and you reached out, grabbing his wrist. “Wait, Sonny.” He stopped, looking back at you. “Please, just…before you leave, tell me you’re at least happy that we’re pregnant.” You didn’t know why it mattered so much, but it suddenly hit you that he hadn’t once shown any sort of excitement. Which was understandable with the information you had just dumped on him, but it still hurt.

Sonny stepped up to you, cupping your face in his hands. He leaned down, kissing you gently. “Of course, I’m happy that we’re going to have a child. I just…I’m a little confused right now, and I need some guidance, that’s all,” he murmured. You nodded, kissing his palm before he pulled away, heading out the door.

 ************************

It was almost three hours later before Sonny finally came home. This time, he shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it on the hook by the door, and toed his shoes off. It seemed like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and he seemed content when he came and sat on the couch next to you.

“Did you find some answers?” you asked, leaning against his side, his arm draping around your shoulders. His fingers started trailing over your arm, and you shivered happily.

“I did. As much as I’d rather have our children when we’re ready, after we’re married and more settled down, I’m not upset that God has other plans. I mean, you were on birth control and still got pregnant; if this is God’s plan, then I, for one, won’t fight it,” Sonny smiled down at you, kissing your forehead. “Besides, I’m going to be a father.” His voice broke on the word ‘father’, and your heart strained.

You leaned up, kissing him softly. “Yes, you are. And you’re going to be the best father. Not to mention the sexiest father.” Sonny threw his head back and laughed. You waited for his laughter to subside before you asked, “what are we going to tell your parents?”

“The truth. If they can’t accept that, then that’s on them,” he said simply. The panic you felt must have shown on your face, because he added, “I’m sure they’ll understand. They accepted that your family wasn’t practicing Catholics. They’ll be ecstatic to be grandparents again.”

“They’ll think I’m some harlot who seduced their son,” you grimaced. God, were your hormones already making you crazy?

Sonny put his fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him. “No, they won’t. My parents love you, babe, almost as much as I do. They’re gonna be over the moon, I promise. Just…let me break the news to them first.” He gave you his trademark goofy grin, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“Thank you, Dom,” you whispered, so damn glad that he was the one you were going on this crazy ride with.

“Of course…now, first things’ first! We should come up with a list of names, both boy and girl, just in case, then a list of things we need to buy—”

“Sonny, baby, first we need to decide if we want to buy the house first, or have the wedding. I know you and your family want the full Catholic shindig, at that one church they all got married at—”

“St. Christopher’s.”

“—and that’s going to be a lot of money. We need to decide which is more important; the wedding or a house,” you finished.

Sonny glanced around your apartment; it was modest, not too small. A living room, a full kitchen—a must for Sonny—a guest bathroom, a spare room which was turned into an office of sorts, the master bedroom, and a master bathroom. When Bella dropped off Sonny’s niece, you mainly kept her in the living room, which was kid-proofed. And on the off chance a friend crashed for the night, they normally slept on the couch.

“Wedding first; let’s appease the family. The baby will be sleeping in our room at first, anyways. Then, we can turn the spare into a nursery,” Sonny said.

You nodded. Tears formed, but you quickly blinked them away as you thought about Sonny building a nursery, painting the walls…being a father. Something told you that you were going to be an emotional wreck this whole pregnancy. And, looking sideways at your fiancé, who was already talking about how he’d clean out the spare room, you felt incredibly lucky that he was the one you were spending the rest of your life with.

[daisy-day-dreams]

A/N: Hey everybody I hope you’re doing well ❤️ Here’s part one of Little Lies! I hope you enjoy and pease let me know what you think!

Little Lies Masterlist

Word Count: 1,461

*gif not mine*

Annie sat back in the chair in the office of Teller Morrow. She took a sip of the tea Chucky had brought her earlier this morning. The hot liquid burned her tongue then her chest as soon as it sloshed out spilling onto her. Cursing she set the cup back down. She grabbed a tissue dabbing her skin until the sting passed. She didn’t know why she was still drinking hot tea in this California heat, force of habit she guessed. She really needed to find a new drink.

The rumbling of the motorcycles pulling into the lot pulled her away from her previous thoughts. She quickly tossed the tissue into the trash bin before standing up.

It was time.

Gemma passed through the office smiling at Annie. “They’re here.” It finally felt like home once again to Gemma. The past 14 months were rough without Clay or Jax or a full clubhouse. There was definitely a change in the atmosphere while most of their men were locked up. “Come on sweetheart, the boys will be eager to meet the new secretary.”

Annie followed after Gemma to greet the guys. What Gemma didn’t know was that Annie already knew one of them. Maybe he wouldn't recognize her or remember her but she recognized him the first time she saw his mugshot up on the wall of the clubhouse. She’d never forget him and she’d never forgive him for how he broke her sister’s heart.

Annie watched him as he took his helmet off before hanging it up. He was immediately pulled into a side hug by Chibs who had the biggest grin on his face. She couldn’t hear what the older scott said but whatever it was made him laugh. It sounded exactly the same as she had remembered.

She almost didn’t notice the handsome blonde man, Gemma’s son she had recognized from pictures, approach her and Gemma. Gemma gave him a big hug before turning him towards her. “Annie this is my son Jackson.”

“You can call me Jax, darlin’.” He grinned looking her up and down.

“I’ve heard lots about you.” She smiled back at him giving him a good once over as well. She had seen plenty of pictures but none of them could compare to seeing him in person. His hair was now shorter, suiting him much better in her opinion than the longer locks she had seen in the photos.

“And I’ve heard not nearly enough about you,” Gemma never told him the new girl was smoking hot.

“If you’re good you just might learn a hell of a lot more.” Annie sent him a wink. What could she say? The man was hot and she wasn’t shy when it came to being flirty.

“Alright kids that’s enough flirting for now.” Gemma teased the two. “You’ve got plenty of time for that later and I think there is someone who is really wanting to see his daddy.”

Just then Neeta came out of the clubhouse with Abel. She laughed as Able broke away from her running into Jax’s arms. Jax scooped him up with the biggest smile on his face holding him close to him.

Annie couldn’t help but feel her heart warm at the sight. She had come to care for the small boy herself while working for TM and from spending time with Gemma.

Gemma was the first person who she and Delilah befriended in their move to Charming. They were currently renting a little place from her just a block away from Gemma’s place. Gemma was actually the one to tell Annie about the opening position at their garage. With Jax being locked up Gemma had less time for working there while becoming Abel’s sole guardian.

Her older sister Delilah had a job at the hospital already but Annie still needed one herself. She wasn’t good with being idle, it gave her too much time to think. The offer was perfect for her. She fit in perfectly and never felt more safe or welcomed than she did with Gemma and the MC.

“See? I told she was hot.” Kozik bragged as he approached with Tig just behind him. He had been talking up Annie to all the guys, bragging about how she would be his date for Opie and Lyla’s upcoming wedding. “And she’s all mine for the night.”

“Yep all yours.” Annie leaned into Kozik’s side as he wrapped his arm around her waist. In the six months she had been working with them she had become closest to the big, goofy, man.

“Nope, still don’t believe it.” Tig shook his head. “Now why would you want to go with him when there are clearly plenty of better options? It’s still not too late to change your mind, doll.”

“You must be Tig.” Annie giggled. “Kozik has told me so much about you.”

“Anything he says, all lies.” Tig made sure to tell her. “You can’t believe a word out of his mouth. Come find me later and we’ll set things straight but for now I have some shit to catch up on.”

“Make it quick,” Clay called out after him. “We got church in ten minutes.”

“Oh it’ll be quick after all that time with no pussy.” Bobby joked before introducing himself to Annie with a hug.

She was then introduced to Happy who just gave her a grunt with a nod of approval before both followed behind Tig into the clubhouse.

The last was Juice walking towards them with Chibs. He was looking down still smiling when Chibs made the introduction. “Juicy boy meet our very lovely Annie.”

Juice looked up to meet the new girl he had been hearing about all day. His smile immediately fell when he saw her. The last time Juice had seen her she was still just a gangly teenager. Now she was everything but that.

“Hey Juan, long time no see.” Annie said.

Chibs and Kozik exchanged a look before looking at Juice. Neither one of them knew anything about Annie knowing their Juice. Chibs remembered catching her looking at their wall of mugshots. Her gaze had landed on Juice so Chibs told her about him and the rest of the guys but he never thought the reason she stopped on the younger Son was because she knew him.

“What are you doing here?” Was the first thing he could think of to say.

“Delilah got a job offer here, I thought I’d come join her on her new adventure.” Annie watched all the thoughts run through Juice’s mind.

“She’s here?”

Just as she figured Juice was still in love with her sister, she could see it in his eyes. “Yeah, small world huh?”

“We’ll let you two kids catch up.” Chibs spoke, excusing him and Kozik feeling as if they weren’t welcome to this little reunion. He looked back once more at the two pausing at the door before disappearing into the clubhouse.

“Does she know I’m here?” He couldn’t help but wonder how she was feeling about all this.

“She knows you’re here.” Annie crossed her arms. Her gaze hardened on him. “I know what you’re thinking but this isn’t some sign or fate or some second chance bullshit. You had your chance with my sister and you gave her up,” she emphasized, “so keep your distance from her, yeah?”

“Delilah is an adult Annie, if she wants to see or talk to me that’s up to her. And we both made that decision to split up.” Juice clarified. Yes he left Queens but she also chose not to join him and together they decided long distance would never work, that splitting up was the best option for both of them.

“Like she had much of a choice?” Annie scoffed, rolling her eyes. “She loved you Juan, more than anything. Of course she wasn’t going to make you stay! Certainly not for herself and not even for the damn baby!”

“Baby?” Juice barely got out as his mind started replaying the moments just before he left and then started running wild with the image of his child.

Annie knew what she was doing. She had him right where she wanted him. “Don’t worry, you’re not a father. She didn’t keep it.” She wanted to hurt him, just like he hurt them.

Juice didn't have the time to fully process what was just said before Tig ducked his head out of the clubhouse yelling out. "Juicy church now! Get your ass in here!"

Juice looked back at Annie once more. He had a million questions he wanted to ask but he knew now wasn't the time. He had church, he had his responsibilities with the club, that had to come first right now.

Tagging: @starrynite7114 @carlaangel86

[thestarkerisobvious]

The Thing That Lives Under The Bed

Peter was a lonely boy who made friends with the thing that lived under his bed.  In an effort to help that thing get OUT from under the bed, and what he did when that happened, changed the course of his life forever.

(art by the late @von--gelmini)

Now allow me to introduce:

(art by the incredible @mrstarksbaby​)

In which Peter and his High Priest confront ghosts, both figuratively and literally, and deal with the sins of the past.

Victims  - Chapter 2

Try To Remember

“Peter… Peter… oh Peter…”

Peter was a little startled to realize they were parked on the old road that used to go to the South House.  He was surprised how warm the night was.  But laying back on the hood of the truck, looking up at the sky full of stars, that was nice.  The hood of the truck was warm, and the night was pleasantly cool.  And Quentin looked relaxed, so Peter relaxed too.

The sky was so very, very full of stars.  It was a good night for stargazing.

At least, Quentin was stargazing.  Peter was Quentingazing.  It was so easy to

 forget how handsome Quentin was.  Peter shouldn’t have felt this relaxed, felt this safe, with the older man, but he did.  Maybe it was because, now, he was older too.  Maybe it was because he knew all of Quentin’s tricks, and, looking back on it, they weren’t much.  

And tonight felt so peaceful.  It was everything he wanted it to be.

And dammit, Quentin’s face was just so damn handsome.  Those eyes, the ones that had made Peter just feel helpless… well,  they didn’t make Peter feel helpless anymore, but you couldn’t deny it.  They were eyes to die for.  And that smile.  It wasn’t as handsome as Tony’s smile, but it was nice.

“What are you grinning at?”  Peter said when Quentin turned to look at him.  Peter turned his head away to actually look up at the stars, but didn’t pretend he hadn’t been looking at Quentin.  There was no point in pretending.

“I’m just remembering the time I took you out into the woods at night because I wanted to kiss you, and instead I wound up listening to a lecture on Gilgamesh…”

“It wasn’t a lecture…” Peter protested through his giggles.

“It was amazing!” Quentin insisted, laughing as well. “You explaining it to me - the fucking Epic of Gilgamesh.  And Enkidu, and Gilgamesh who is going to fall in love with him, but not yet because he’s currently a wild man, running around naked in the forest so Gilgamesh civilizes him by introducing him to a whore.  You were seventeen for godssake.  And there I was, parked with you on a dark road, hoping I was going to get lucky, and all I could do was look into those gorgeous brown eyes of your and listen to you explain Akkadian cultural mores…” He smiled fondly at the memory.  “It was crazy.”

“I was TRYING to say that YOUR religion said sex made you uncontrolled and animalistic and bad, but the Akkadians saw sex as the civilizing force.  The thing that made men WANT to control themselves, and fit in with society.  And don’t call Shamhat a whore, she was a prostitute, but that word isn’t… it wasn’t always a bad thing.”

“Just say ‘pejorative.’” Quentin said gently.  “Don’t dumb down your vocabulary for me.  You never did before.”  

“Oh god” Peter moaned, covering his face with both hands. He rubbed his eyes, rubbed his forehead, trying to wipe away the memory.  “I was always trying so hard to impress you.”

“I was impressed.”  Quentin said, turning over and propping himself on one elbow.  Peter turned his head and looked up into those mesmerizing eyes.  It was times like this when Peter remembered that that, in addition to his devilish good looks, Quentin’s eyes were startlingly blue.  How could his eyes be blue and yet so dark at the same time?

“We were parked on the side of the back road,” Quentin was saying softly, his mouth only a few inches away.  “And you were sitting within arms reach of me, just as bold as brass, telling me about Gilgamesh and Enkidu, the most epic male/male love story of all time, and I was thinking “This kid has more balls than I did at his age… more than I ever will.”

Peter couldn’t help but smile back.  Quentin’s smile had always been contagious.  

“But then you had to ruin it by bringing up girls…” he concluded with a smirk, laying back down to stare up at the stars.

“Me?!” Peter gaped, sputtering.  “Me?  Did the Reverend Quentin ‘How many girlfriends do you have this week Parker?’ Beck just accuse me of…”

But he laughed when he saw that Quentin was suppressing a laugh.  He lay back and looked up at the sky.

“Shamhat is an integral part of the story,” he said smirking, relishing the fact that he could make Quentin laugh.  “And excuse me?  Raise your hand if you used to dare me… if you used to double-dog dare me… to ask out a girl to a movie every freaking time I saw you…”

“I was feeling you out…” Quentin said quietly, sitting up again.  He reached to put one solid hand on Peter’s bicep.  “…before I felt you up.”

Peter was silent for a moment, looking up at that luscious mouth, so close to his own, when Quentin spoke again.

“Do you forgive me, Peter?”

Peter closed his eyes.  He didn’t want to talk about forgiveness, didn’t want to talk about what needed to be forgiven, and why.  Quentin’s hand was now stroking his chest, and he didn’t want to talk at all.

“Please… you don’t have to say yes.  You can say something else.  Anything at all.  As long as it’s the truth.  I just need to know.”

“I needed… information…” Peter said, without opening his eyes, trying to explain it as best he could.  “I had a boyfriend, but our relationship was… it wasn’t… it was good.  But it was  immature.  I found out that… I found that out.  And that wasn’t exactly the way I wanted to find out but… but I found out from you.  And it led us, to him and me, to... to have a conversation that I didn’t even know we needed to have. Because he was waiting for me to bring up and he’s the kind of guy that really could have waited forever… believe me, he really would have waited forever.  But we had to have that conversation because of you… and it… yeah.  It led to a lot of good things.  So I guess the answer is yes… I guess…

“And I still have him.  My boyfriend,” he said quickly as his eyes opened again and he found himself looking directly at Quentin’s mouth, now close enough to kiss.

“I have a fiancé in Albany,” Quentin joked.  “What difference does it make.”  Peter grinned.

They were inside the pickup cab now, and Peter was glad. When he had been 17, Quentin had made the first move, had kissed Peter BEFORE Peter had worked up the nerve to climb onto his lap.  And that was something Peter had always regretted.

He grinned as he climbed into Quentin’s lap now, stradling Quentin’s legs with his own.

“I always wanted to see your face when I did this,” Peter whispered, as he pulled Quentin’s head back by the hair, kissing him hard, just like in his dreams.

“Oh god kid,” Quentin panted when Peter let him come up for air.  “I nearly came in my pants when you did it the first time,” Quentin breathed against his mouth, and soon they weren’t speaking at all, kissing each other greedily as Quentin pulled him close with strong arms.  Now Peter’s erection was pressing firmly into Quentin’s chest, and that was just fine too.

“I love how hungry your hands feel,” Peter moaned as Quentin’s eager fingers dug into the meat of his ass.  He wasn’t entirely sure that sentence made sense, but he hoped Quentin got the idea.

He pulled away long enough to peel off his shirt, hoping there was enough moonlight to show off the body he was so proud of.

“Fuck,” was Quentin’s only comment, but that was enough. Soon he was biting his way across Peter’s shoulder and shamelessly grinding his hardon into Peter’s body, denim against denim.  Peter was just beginning to realize how complicated it was going to be, getting those tight jeans off in these tight confines, when Quentin hissed and tensed, his fingers suddenly biting into Peter’s biceps, his whole body going still.

Peter was overwhelmed, suddenly, with another memory. Hadn’t they made out in the woods behind the church, just like this?  And hadn’t Quentin tensed suddenly, his fingers digging into Peter’s arms, just like this?  And hadn’t Peter suddenly wondered if Quentin had been stung by a bee, or bitten by a snake? Because he seemed to suddenly be in pain…

…but this Quentin didn’t seem to be in pain at all. In fact he was relaxing completely, catching his breath, laying his head back with a goofy smile on his face.

“What… what?”  Peter asked, confused.  It couldn’t be… but it was.  He pressed himself into Quentin’s lap, but there was nothing there.  Quentin’s erection, that terrifying thing that had haunted his dreams for so long, was simply gone.

“Wait… you didn’t just…”

“You were so scared of it,” Quentin said with an easy smile. “All you had to do was wrap your hand around it for a few moments and it would have all been over.  You never had anything to be afraid of.”

“And the night of the lock-in at the church… you? Did you really… my god no wonder you turned off so suddenly.”

“I could have taken care of you too,” Quentin said, still grinning that goofy grin.  Tracing the length of Peter’s erection with his thumb.  “Boys your age get off so fast.  I could have done it right there and then without so much as undoing a button. But I didn’t.”

Peter looked into Quentin’s eyes, but he didn’t ask.

Quentin answered anyway.  “Because I’m a shitty person,” he said, reaching up to whisper it against Peter’s mouth.  “And shitty people do shitty things.”

“Yeah, and that’s the problem,” Peter said, reaching down and pulling Quentin’s hand away by the thumb.

“This has been nice, Reverend Beck, it really has. But Matty is my best friend… and a lot more than that now.  And you had him so messed up he was literally thinking of drowning himself in my lake. And that’s not okay.”

“I left, didn’t I?  Wasn’t that enough?”  Quentin whined, trying to pull his thumb out of Peter’s grasp.  “I left and I didn’t come back…”

“You didn’t have a choice.  Try to remember Reverend Beck… or did we forget our famous Nightfall Sermon? You left because they rode you out of town on a rail.  And if we hadn’t done that… it would have been a lot worse.  For you.  You made Matty blame himself, Quentin.  For what you did.  For all of it.  I don’t even know how… you just have a knack…”  

“It’s not hard kid,” Quentin said, looking him directly in the eye.  His gentle tone was gone, but his thumb still remained in Peter’s grip, his hand hanging just an inch from Peter’s body, in no hurry to move away.

“There’s no trick to it.  Everyone in the world, everyone on the planet, either blames themselves for everything, or else they blame themselves for nothing.  I always have a 50/50 shot.”

“You’re the kind of man who does a lot of damage, Quentin.”

“That’s why I traveled, Peter.  I turned down a lot of better jobs in bigger churches and I stayed on the road nine months out of the year.  It was less money, but staying in one place, I would have done TOO MUCH damage. As long as I kept moving, never going back to any place more than twice, it was different…”

“Damage is damage, Quentin, even if you spread it around.

“But you were okay…”

“Because I already had a boyfriend, because I wasn’t desperately lonely, isolated in this one-shitter town and thinking I was the only gay kid in New York, or even the entire world.  I was lucky enough to know better than that.  Because my boyfriend happened to be a 1600 year old demon who had lived in monastery where everyone was gay including some notable saints…”

A crash of thunder came from overhead, startling both of them.  They looked at each other in surprise.  The night had been dry… they had just been outside in it moments before…

The next clap of thunder made them wince, and Peter willingly moved out of Quentin’s lap as he grabbed his keys off the dashboard and tried to start the truck.  The thunder sounded less like a storm and more like a series of explosions.  It sounded as if lightning had hit several trees nearby, yet there had been no flashes of light.  In fact the night was pitch black.  They could barely see each other through the eerie lights of the dashboard.  

“No no no no no no…” Quentin was moaning, his voice rising in fear, desperately trying to jam his keys into the ignition, failing in his panic.  “And this is when the truck won’t start, oh god, oh god please not again…”

“Quentin, we’re okay.  It’s dark, but we’re not… we’re not un-safe.  I promise…”

And then the scratching started.

[gwynposting]

All Along the Watchtower (Ch. 2)

This story takes place after the “All Along the Watchtower” ending of Cyberpunk 2077, so spoilers ahead.

Ch. 1 | AO3 Link

The gentle glow of neon red fought against the encroaching abyss of the deep. It felt dreamlike, in a way, to have everything suspended in place, weightless, drifting through the sea. Here it wasn’t just her body drifting aimlessly through the water, it felt like the weight crushing her very soul began to lift, she felt as if she could finally breathe free. 

But the depths were also a bit disorienting - it was difficult to make heads and tails of direction or speed down here. The only thing V had for reference was the figure in front of her, illuminated by the twin headlamps attached to her diving suit. She was V’s rock, her guiding hand through the unknown, the abyss.

“I wish Evie could’ve seen this,” Judy said as she looked to the towering church before them, it’s darkened silhouette like a leviathan

Evelyn’s name caught V’s breath. She felt the blood drain from her face. Her pulse quickened. Her pupils dilated. 

Evelyn’s bruised and beaten body, lying in the middle of the room.

V sought breath after breath in frantic hyperventilation but nothing came. No air would sate her lung’s desire.

Her body lying in the tub. 

Judy turned in curiosity to find V flailing in the water. V tugged and grabbed at her throat as if she were trying to free herself from a vice wrapped around her neck. “V?” began in confusion before she realized something was seriously wrong, “V!” she shouted. 

Judy...

Her lungs were on fire, as if they contained a dozen lit matches. She felt paralyzed by her visions. 

“No, no, NO,” she heard Judy’s desperate voice becoming increasingly frantic, “Stay with me V.”

Judy made a dash over to V to hold her steady, but V didn’t even react to her presence. The sounds around her became murky, like the bass of a concert bleeding through cement wall. All she could see was Judy’s frantic display. It consumed her.

“V! She pleaded, “Not you too,” her voice was a cry to the gods, to anyone who would listen, “I can’t lose you too V. I can’t do it again. Please, Valerie. Stay with me.” 

And then nothing.

V awoke with a shock. The snug embrace of her blanket that had been so welcoming before now acted like a vice trapping her in its confines. With one motion she stripped the blanket off and to the side. Her shirt clung to her form, caked with sweat. She tried to gasp for air but nothing would come, as if she were being strangled, like water had seeped into her lungs. She made a mad dash for the sink.

With a grotesque retch, she purged herself into the sink. But before she was done, she began to violently cough into her hand. Her throat burned with each hack until she was left breathless, in a sort of daze staring down at the sink below. Blood stained her hand and seeped down into the sink below. With the blockage free, V finally took her first breath. It came like fire, as the air traveled through her roughened throat to fill her aching lungs. 

V collapsed onto her forearms that shakily held her upright. Her breathing was rapid and shaky, with each labored breath feeling like daggers dragged along her throat. 

She glanced up into the mirror. Her eyes were lidded, dark circles present underneath. Her skin was flushed. V was hardly able to keep herself stable. She could feel her faculties, both physical and mental, slipping from her grasp.

“Walking talking corpses,” she began to hear, a faint echo in a fading mind. The dread began to seep through her once more. The unshakeable feeling of inevitability, forever present in the back of V’s thoughts, once more resurfacing. How many times had she faced death at this point? Deshawn, Mikoshi. And now she’d have to die once more? 

But this time the stakes were different. It wasn’t just about the loss of her own life anymore. It wasn’t about becoming the legend of Night City and going out in spectacular fashion. She had a family. She had Judy. She would have to leave Judy behind. 

“Fuck, V. I was so worried. I saw what was happening on the news and you weren’t getting back to me and-”

“I know, Judy,” V cut her off, switching off the car radio’s live coverage of the chaos at Arasaka tower, “I’m sorry. I’m okay. I’ll fill you when I get there, be home soon.” 

She couldn’t believe she almost did.

The rhythmic drum of rain droplets bounced against the window. The diver on Judy’s wall glowed under the soft blue lighting, as if they were traveling down the ocean depths. 

“What happened in there? In this ‘Mikoshi’?” Judy took the cigarette out of V’s mouth and inhaled, “You still haven’t said anything about it.” 

Judy’s eyes were filled with worry, and it killed V to see them so afraid. V closed her eyes and looked away, she didn’t think she even had the strength to tell her if she had to face the hurt.

“Well,” V hesitated, her voice shaky and unsure, holding back tears, “Johnny’s out. But uh,” her breath hitched, “I guess my brain isn’t mine anymore. I only got about 6 months left.” 

“F-fuck,” Judy stuttered, her breath caught in her throat. She took a deep inhale from her cigarette, “Fuck, V. You sure?” Judy’s voice was weak, a shadow of its usual strength. 

“No, but that’s what Alt said.” V looked down to what she feared - tears streamed down Judy’s face. 

“Is there -” Judy began, “there has to be something you can do.” Judy pleaded more than affirmed. 

V looked away and wiped the tears from her eyes. “V?” Judy croaked.

“The Aldecados have some contacts that might be able to help, but...” V paused and let the silence linger. She still hadn’t come to grips with it herself, “I was called a ticking time bomb by Alt Cunningham. The AI who instantaneously fried everyone in Arasaka tower.”

The silence was suffocating.

“I’m sorry, Jude.” V’s voice was withered, stripped away by the knowledge that Judy would have to go through yet more loss. That Night City would claim everything that she held close.

Judy wiped the tears from her eyes, “You don’t worry about me, okay? We’re gonna try every last option on this earth before we give up.” Her voice was more assured, as if she were trying to convince V that it would all be okay. 

Or maybe she was trying to convince herself.

“And no matter what, V, I will be here with you ‘till the end.”

With that, V began openly weeping, seeking out Judy’s breast to curl into. Judy lovingly wrapped her arms around V and brought her close as she whispered sweet comforts. Each muffled cry sent daggers through Judy’s heart. 

“I can’t do it again, Judy. I’m so tired.” 

V’s cracked voice pained Judy. But even though it felt like Judy’s own world was crumbling apart around her, she had to be strong for V, “You can, and you will.” Judy gave herself a few moments to steel herself, “You have a family. You have me. We will be there every single step of the way. You don’t need to go through this alone anymore.” 

V remained silent, through Judy’s soothings and touches, before finally sitting up. “I think I need a smoke,” almost as faint as a whisper. Judy nodded and retrieved another stick from her pack and held it out for V. She captured the cigarette between her lips and held still as Judy set it alight. She took several draws before she was sated. 

“Can I tell you something?” V asked hesitantly. 

Judy blew a puff of smoke into the air and turned to her, her cheeks puffy and eyes still bloodshot, “Shoot, V.” 

“After I left Arasaka, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jackie. About his funeral. About Mama Welles and Misty and Vik. About how I’d never see that goofy smile anymore.” V took another draw before continuing. “Then I thought about my own funeral, and saw you standing over my body, just like Evelyn. Part of me just, I don’t know, wanted to run off to die on my own and spare you the grief of another loved one dying. Make you hate me instead.” 

Judy reached over and grabbed one of V’s nipples, squeezed, and twisted. V squeaked out in shock. “Fuckin’ gonk,” she said, icily, before letting go, “I’d have hunted you down and killed you myself.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” V chuckled and took another draw, gently massaging away the pain with her fingers. “Intrusive thought, I guess. In my defence, I went from thinking I was dead meat to actually having some real hope to then have it all stripped away. My state of mind wasn’t exactly in the best place. Sorry, Jude.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Judy softened her tone, her eyes becoming more sympathetic, “I can’t even begin to understand what that must feel like.” Judy took one long draw from her cigarette and let out a slow cloud of smoke. 

“Just promise me one thing, V?” Judy’s voice became calm, but serious, “no matter what happens, no matter where this trail leads, we do this together, okay?”

V nodded, “Together.” 

V felt as if she’d radiated every bit of heat away from her body. Her muscles ached, her throat was on fire, and she couldn’t stop the ceaseless shivers that wracked her body. 

She flinched as she felt something brush along her shoulder, but settled into the touch once she looked up and saw Judy’s reflection in the mirror. V tried a smile of assurance but the smeared blood along her lips wasn’t terribly convincing. Judy leaned her head against V’s back, as if to hug her from behind without being too constricting. “C’mon,” Judy cooed, “can I draw you up a warm bath?” 

V’s voice was hoarse, rough with exhaustion and fatigue, “Yeah, thanks Jude.” V felt enough strength to start cleaning out the sink and whipping the blood from her hands. She had to shake the memories that cropped up.

Jackie’s blood.

“What time is it?” V croaked, splashing cold water over her tired eyes. 

“Just a bit before 5,” Judy cooed. 

The sound of rushing water filled their cozy home. They didn’t have a water heater, but they at least had some running water. The Aldecados had set up in a ghost town much like Rocky Ridge about an hour outside Tuscon while they established a basis of communication with their contacts in the city. Most of the old-timers stuck with their own tents that they peppered around town, while Judy and V were more than happy to claim a cozy house off the main street. 

“Let me go heat up some water,” V said, feeling silly she’s not being useful.

“You’ll do no such thing,” Judy tutted her teeth. “You stay put.”

Judy held V’s hand to help guide her down onto the ledge of the tub. With V safe, she made her way over to the kitchen and grabbed the tea kettle out of the cupboard. Judy filled it with water then placed it on the stove, turning it on. 

While she was waiting for the kettle to reach boiling, Judy returned to their bedroom and picked out a plush blanket. She returned to the bathroom to see V stripped down, sitting on the edge of the tub. She was hunched over, shivering. Goosebumps lined her arms. When Judy entered, V looked up to her. Judy saw it in her eyes, how much everything was getting to her. To see the uncertainty and fear looking back at her made Judy’s heart drop in that moment. V looked so small, so vulnerable.

V shook her head, “It’ll just get dirty,” V muttered, gesturing to the blanket in Judy’s arms. 

“Hush, you,” Judy sidled up beside her and wrapped it around V. Despite her protests, V quickly grabbed the edges and brought them close. Judy kept an arm around V and leant her head on V’s shoulders. They didn’t say anything, they didn’t need to. They sat in silence until the gentle whine of steam began to fill the air. 

“Don’t go anywhere,” Judy tried to joke, before making her way to the kitchen to grab the boiling kettle. Judy carefully picked up the whistling pot and brought it back to warm up the cool water. Judy kneeled besides V and began to pour. The splash of pouring water and clouds of steam filled the air as she emptied its contents into the bath. Judy tested the temperature of the water with prodding fingertips, then plunged her hand in to stir and distribute the heat. 

“I think we’re all set,” Judy said as she shook off her dripping hand. Judy began to shuck off her sweatpants and shirt. “How’d you like to do it?”

“Can you hold me?” V whispered. Judy felt her heart drop. 

“Por supuesto, calabacita” Judy soothed as she tried to keep her own voice steady. As difficult as it was to see the woman she loved so vulnerable and hurt, she had to be the emotional rock V had been for her. Judy shed her underwear and dipped her toes in before fully submerging herself. Judy let herself enjoy the comfortable warmth for a moment before making room for V to get in. 

V quickly followed suit, tossing the blanket in the laundry pile before dipping herself in the bath, being careful to take her time. Her arms shook with fatigue as she lowered herself down.

She sought Judy’s outstretched arms and sank back into their embrace. V clung to the arms wrapped around her as if she were never to let go again. Judy sat herself out of the water more so that V could snuggle into her without her head dipping below the water level. Judy’s breasts became dotted with goosebumps as they became exposed to the cooler air. 

“This is the second time this week, Jude,” V shook in Judy’s grasp. 

“I know,” Judy sighed. They both understood the rising frequency of the attacks. 

“I’m scared,” V squeaked, almost a whisper.

“Fuck,” Judy mouthed to herself to herself, as if viscerally reacting to the pain laced in V’s voice crack. Fuck this was hard. “I know,” she tried to calm her shaking voice, “But hey, we meet with Mitch’s contact tomorrow. Your fate isn’t written in stone here. Remember that feeling in Vik’s clinic when he broke the news that the relic was killing you? You had no hope of surviving. Every single lead went bust. But you managed to survive V, because you’re one of a kind. I know we’ll find something.”

“Maybe. I’m just… tired, Jude. I’ve been dying for how long now? It feels like I’m just... prolonging the inevitable. Like I’m… stretching myself thin.” 

Judy placed a kiss on the top of V’s head, “I know, hun. But the important thing is that now you’re not alone. You don’t need to be strong anymore, we’re all here to help you.”

V allowed Judy’s words to sink in before she tightened her grip on Judy’s forearm, “I don’t like to think of where I’d be without you, Judy.” 

“Good thing I’m stickin’ around then, hm?” Judy leaned in to V’s ears and whispered, “can’t get rid of me that easy~”

V let out a small chuckle, “I love ya, y’gonk.”

“I love you too.” 

***

“What was he like?”

V stared off aimlessly into the valley below, idly massaging her forearm. Her legs dangled down the small cliffside. The sky bled deep reds and purples as it prepared the way for the sun’s arrival. Clouds caught and mixed the colors to produce vibrant displays.

“V?” Judy repeated.

V’s name caught her ear and brought her out of her reverie. She turned to Judy, a light blush of embarrassment creeping up on her cheeks.

“What was he like?” Judy repeated, motioning down to the spot on V’s forearm that she was palming over - a tattoo that said “Johnny + V” inside of a heart. 

V followed Judy’s gaze and recognized what she was getting at. She reflexively moved her hand away from the tattoo, as if she hadn’t realized she’d even been so sentimental about it. She was still rather bitter about that night.

“He was…” V paused in reflection. She still hadn’t come to terms with… everything. She still caught herself thinking out to Johnny, only to get nothing but silence in return. 

“You would’ve hated him,” V said with a short laugh, “he was one massive prick. But at the same time, I miss the guy.” 

V sought out Judy’s hand and Judy received it readily. Judy remained quiet, letting V have the floor to continue when she was ready.

“He did end up liking you though,” V glanced over to Judy with a smirk, “even with the whole diving business. I guess he was thalassophobic.”

“And we kinda proved him right with that eh,” Judy aired.

“Think it rubbed off on me too after that,” V tried to smile, but the thought of returning back to those depths made her palms feel clammy and cold. She could feel the familiar tightened around her throat return, like a phantom grip threatening to squeeze the life out of her. 

“Sorry if you had any plans to do some more diving with me,” V chuckled in a morbid laugh, “Guess I’ll have to stick to experiencing the BDs that you scroll, so I don’t have to feel the anxiety going out myself. For now, I guess.”

Judy brought V’s hand up to her lips and placed a lingering kiss, “You go at your own pace, V. Even if that means you never step foot in the water again, or even watch a BD. Don’t ever feel like you need to push yourself past your limits for me.”

“Yeah… thanks, Judy.” 

The silence returned once more as the tips of the sun’s rays began to clip over the horizon. The valley was basked in royal shades, a mixture of vibrant colors and long cast shadows. 

“It feels weird that he’s not poking around in my head anymore,” V said solemnly. 

“Was he always around or…?” Judy floated.

“I think so, to some extent. Even when I’d take my blockers I guess he’d still experience everything. Just… we wouldn’t be able to communicate.” 

V thought a moment before continuing, “I’m assuming it’s similar to the night I got this,” she waved around her tattooed arm, “little present from Johnny. The first time I gave him control of my body,” V’s voice turned icy. “I had to watch that trainwreck of a night unfurl before my eyes and have absolutely 0 control over it.” 

V sat still for a few moments. She had never really ever had the chance to vent out to anybody about Johnny, the good or the bad. Her entire life until recently was foot on the chooh, just trying to stay alive. No time for reflection.

“But,” V’s voice began to quiver, “I still think he was a good person. Underneath it all. Think in the end he recognized how badly he fucked up his old friendships, hell, even fucked it up with me.” 

“Aww did you fix the bad boy up?” Judy giggled.

V couldn’t hold back a smile and playfully elbowed Judy in the arm. “I guess it’s more that we rubbed off on each other, over time.” V looked over to Judy with a cheeky look, “And before you ask, no, I did not take on his delusions of grandeur. Did start smoking again though.”

“Guess you and me got that in common,” Judy replied with a single huff. 

V held the silence for a while, collecting her thoughts. “But I am glad we took out Mikoshi. Not just for Johnny, it was the right thing to do. And I have him to thank for getting me to come around.”

“I’ll mark your relationship as ‘It’s complicated’ eh?” Judy leaned her head on V’s shoulder. 

“I think,” V started, “when all of this is over… y’know, if we pump the brakes on me dying… I’d like to return to Night City and do a proper send off.” 

“Then I guess we better focus on not dying then,” Judy replied. 

The pair winced and squinted their eyes as the sun finally crested into the sky. Its radiance began to creep down their bodies and chase away the chills of the desert morning. Judy’s familiar hum was a welcome addition, and V leaned her cheek on Judy’s head and basked in the moment. She would make sure to cherish every single moment, because sooner or later, she knew she wouldn’t be able to. 

And then she heard that familiar voice ring through her head as if he never left, “Happy endings? Wrong city. Wrong people.”

Author’s Note: Chapter 3 is out on AO3 already. I’d post it here but I don’t want to spam this tag so I’ll post the tumblr link in a few days (when I remember). I’m not nearly as dutiful about posting to my tumblr as I will be with AO3 so if you want consistent updates, be sure to check there.

[pawprintsmoon]

You and me, Part III

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30337365/chapters/74893146#workskin

The proposal

After a shower and clean pajamas, Alex finished packing his suitcase, tucking the ring safely inside. The next morning, he was so focused on not losing it again that he ended up misplacing his coffee filled travel mug. He had put it down for one second, and suddenly it was nowhere to be seen. Henry found it in minutes and they left for the airport. Distracted beyond reason, Alex had to hop out of the car to race back inside to grab his wallet. Then he had to hop out of the car again to run inside and get his phone.

After speeding to the JFK airport, they crossed the Atlantic and spent one night in Kensington recovering from jet lag. They spent their first full day at a trans* equity conference. The English press greeted their visiting prince with union jacks and rainbows. Naturally, they responded with charming comments and smiling photos. Alex took the opportunity to livestream a message to his followers: ‘of course transgender high schoolers should be allowed on the sports team that aligns with their gender, and here’s why…’

Privately, in the car back to the palace, Henry expressed the opinion that public schools ought to have polo teams, because it’s a coed sport and ideal for nonbinary teens who don’t like to rock the boat. Alex responded with similar sentiments about quidditch. The rest of the drive they shared a familiar rant about how Harry Potter belongs to the fans (including the trans* fans) and not only to JKR.

That night, just past 2am, Alex turned over in bed to ask, “You awake?”

“Always.”

“Good. We’re going on a fieldtrip. Come on.” Alex pulled them both out of bed, and they got dressed, Alex swinging on his Gucci jacket. He would have worn a hoodie, the incognito uniform of the internationally recognizable, but tonight he didn’t want to hide himself. It was worth the risk. Besides, they didn’t really need to sneak around anymore, did they? Old habits.

He led them out of the palace, down Prince Consort Road. He stopped for a selfie with the sign, because he really had wanted to last time. A second selfie included them both, looking goofy and not caring. When they reached the back entrance of the Victoria and Albert Museum, they kissed lazily against the wall. Once Henry’s lips melted Alex’s nerves, he drew back to take the next step.

“Thing about dating the prince,” he said, holding up keys, “is that you can borrow pretty much anything he owns. And he can get the keys to anywhere if he asks nicely.”

“You’re a thief,” snarked Henry, walking through the door that Alex held open for him. “And a knave, and a scoundrel.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Alex gave the security guard a wad of cash. “Thanks, Gavin. It’ll be Renaissance City.”

They walked past sculptures, artifacts, and paintings, surrounded by the history that they were a part of. They got to the piazza, Henry’s sacred place. Just like last time, the first statue, Samson Slaying a Philistine took away what little breath Alex had, and he had to lean on Henry for support. Like windswept magnets, their lips met, for no reason at all.

Most of the time, Alex had a strong sense of Henry and himself being part of the current moment of history, changing the world in the here and now. But right then, time seemed to melt, and they were surrounded by historical sculptures telling timeless stories. Zephyr the Greek god of the west wind, Proserpina in the underworld, and Jason and his golden fleece. Archetypical and expansive.

And then there was Henry: the national gay landmark, prince charming, an obtuse fucking asshole. Hopefully his future husband. Sticking with his plan, he pulled away from Henry and got out his phone to open Spotify. Taking a deep breath, he pressed play. “Your Song” came from the tinny speakers.

“It’s a little bit funny, these feelings inside. I’m not one of those who can easily hide.”

“Why am I getting deja vu?” Henry asked, as Alex wrapped his arms around Henry’s waist.

“No clue.”

They began to sway, slow and intimate, cheek to cheek. He recognized the swelling in his chest as the same ache he’d felt when Henry first played this song for him years ago in the music parlor. Back then, he’d been trying so hard to repress his love for Henry, gripping the settee and wondering how long they would fly across the world to touch each other without talking about it. Now they let love dance around them, unbridled and openly declared in front of the world.

Other memories stirred up unbidden. Henry ghosting him after their first kiss, leaving him out in the snow and questioning everything. And then again when Alex hinted at love, leaving him in the lake with his heart carved out. Twice is not a pattern though, is it. Ever since the last time they were in this museum together, Henry had given his entire self to Alex. He had decided to be with Alex for real that night. That had been when they decided to love each other on purpose.

“I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words. How wonderful life is, now you’re in the world.”

For several beats of silence, he just looked at Henry. And Henry looked at him, and the museum disappeared. The whole world faded away except Henry and himself. It was now. He knelt down to one knee slowly, never losing eye contact. Henry’s loving smile showed no surprise as Alex spoke.

“Henry George Edward James Fox-Mounchristen-Windsor,” he said, making Henry roll his eyes. “I have a question to ask you. You see, my mom asked me, back in our early days, if I felt forever about you. I knew it then, and I know it now. I want to spend my life with you. So... ”

He paused, reached into his jacket, and pulled out the bedazzled box, rhinestones spelling out ‘love.’ Henry had probably guessed that it was never intended for June’s earrings, because he laughed like the box was an inside joke. Despite knowing what was coming, he inhaled audibly when Alex opened the box to reveal a simple silver ring.

“Will you marry me?”

Henry laughed again, a laugh like the birds of sunrise. “Yes, Alex. I will marry you.”

The prince reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather box, the same size as the one Alex held. Then, he knelt down on one knee as well, mirroring his fiancé. He opened it to reveal a thick antique gold ring inlaid with a gem that Alex couldn’t identify. Beautiful. “Alex Claremont-Diaz, will you spend forever with me as your partner, confidant, and best friend?”

“I,” Alex choked, “yeah, fuck, of course-”

Henry cut him off with a swift and passionate kiss, both of them on their knees, fumbling the engagement rings onto their fingers. Alex felt like the deceased king that had probably worn his engagement ring. They kissed until their knees grew sore, and they collapsed on the tile.

“How did you think to bring a ring and everything?”

“Believe it or not, I somehow predicted that you might do this,” Henry teased.

Their buzzing bodies urged them to get back to the palace, to Henry’s room, to the bed. So they pulled each other to their feet, both dizzy and desperate. Before leaving the piazza they held each other for just a little longer.

“I love you,” whispered Henry.

“Fuck, I know you do.” It’s an amazing thing, to know completely and utterly that somebody loves you. “I love you too.”

“I know.” Henry held him around the waist and their foreheads pressed together. “Hey, so, I know we’re going to have to have a big, gay, traditional, royal wedding and all that -”

“Which we’ll make fun!” Alex said, with the positivity of a camp counselor. The world could really benefit from a big, gay, royal wedding. “There will be so many rainbows, even only if the crowd brings them.”

“And we’ll definitely have an adequate number of champagne fountains.” Henry winked at him. “But you interrupted-”

“Sorry!”

“-me. I was saying that I know we’re doing the public wedding for the audience, and the press, but...” Suddenly Henry looked nervous. “Well, would you maybe want to…”

“Spit it out babe,” Alex kissed Henry lightly on the lips before pulling back to show that Henry had his entire attention. “I’m listening, for real.”

“Would you, would you maybe want to elope first?”

“I… um. Would we, you know, still do the royal wedding afterwards?” Alex asked. “Keep it a secret?”

“Well, yes.” The words tumbled out. “But it would be a secret that we’re keeping for ourselves. We wouldn’t be keeping a secret for an election, or family expectations, or our god damned publicists. It would be ours, and we would keep it because we want to.

“Because I want to keep you to myself, just a little bit.” Henry shrugged, sheepish. “You give so much of yourself to your country, to the world, and I love that about you, but I want this to be just us. I’d be open to inviting Bea, Pez, June, and Nora, and our parents too, if you want.”

“And honestly, I don’t really want there to be a minister or priest… maybe Pez could do it?” Henry continued. “It doesn’t even have to be legal, so people don’t find out. I don’t know, I just thought, it could be just us, making a promise. Not with the crown, not with the church, not with all your adoring fans. Just the people that really matter.”

“I…” A grin spread slowly across Alex’s face. “I love it. Yes. Hell yes. Where? Not Vegas. Paris?”

“Paris.” Relief sweetened Henry’s smile. “And I could play my vows for you on the piano, if you’d like.”

“Yes I’d like! We could do it on a sailboat with a captain! Can you bring a piano on a sailboat?” Henry shook his head and kissed Alex’s grin, nuzzling their noses together. Alex whispered, “Okay, I’ll slow down and we can figure it out together. You and me.”

“You and me.” They fell into each other, a blissful act of entropy, all lips and hands.

“Besides,” Alex said as they stopped to catch their breath. “Secrets can be kind of hot if I remember correctly.”

AN: So, I thought I'd end with the proposal, but I feel like there's maybe more here? Like, this scene was kinda building up to some 'just got engaged' smut, or it could go on to show their elopement. I'm feeling a tinsy bit uninspired for their vows though, so if any of y'all feel like writing those, I could insert to the rest of the marriage scene that could be fun. If anyone feels like doing the post-proposal smut (or the wedding night smut lol) lemme know! Otherwise, thank you for reading! Check out my other rwrb fics, if you feel like it :)

[darlingsdevil]

Of The Valley (Joel x Reader)

Chapter 9: I Sense There’s Something in The Wind (Part 1)

Summary: Life in Jackson is never easy. Consoling angsty teenagers, wading through the mysterious waters of Joel’s romance language and with a child of your own on the way? Life is about to get a lot harder.

Masterlist

RDR2 Masterlist

Tag list (comment to be added): @sidepuff @joelsheartache @fangirl-inthe-us @scarletpines @mikah-writes @sleepylunarwolf @mr-robot-x @shybookdragon @heughan @writer-jamie @nelliecraine

A/N: *sigh* so much has happened since I last updated. School royally beat me up, I’m constantly tired and have no motivation to write, left a toxic boyfriend! Life has not been kind to me recently but I am trying my best to live it up and learn, but at least I am doing well in school. Sacrifice your sanity to do well in school I guess. I got a guitar too.. okay now I’m just rambling. Updates will be slower as time continues. Constantly fatigued and getting four hours of sleep a night doesn’t work well.

Happy spooky season

This chapter will be in two parts since I couldn’t find the motivation to write the rest of the chapter on Halloween.

•••

Life was quiet until the festival and party, like it had been for months prior. Decorations were put up, apples were picked from the orchards just outside town, costumes were made, pumpkins carved, ghost stories told. The festival was only two days, the first day being the children’s night and day activities, the second being the Halloween party.

Maria gave everyone who’s job wasn’t totally necessary the day off. Which meant the bar closed. You were more than happy to have two days of rest. You purchased two pumpkins this year, carving a ghost into one and a goofy face into another, you were going to light them the night of the party. The first day of the festival — children’s night, where the kids threw a mini parade around town in their costumes and carved pumpkins and got a free bar of candy from the confectionar. They played games, ghost in the graveyard being a popular one when it got dark outside, of course however, Maria limited their playing field. You watched the parade during the day and then you went home. The kids made makeshift noise makers and adults lined the streets as the kids walked by, laughing, smiling, shouting, it was all good fun.

You weren’t sure whether you were going to dress up or not, no ideas came to mind. Last year you went as an angel and a devil with Mark, hence his nickname Devil Boy, his birthday was October 30th, the first day of the celebration.

Today was his birthday. You hadn’t spotted Joel or Ellie at the parade, you briefly said hi to Maria and Tommy, as well as Dina. You were sure Ellie and Cat were dreading cleanup, as well as the other teenagers. You wondered if Ellie and Dina had made up yet, or had her and Cat.

After the parade, there wasn’t much to do. You took down the flowers on your porch, you trimmed the bushes outside, cut the grass, washed the windows, dusted the house, scrubbed the floors. Your house was beginning to feel lively again, like a brand new fresh start. It took a few hours to complete all your tasks, taking short breaks in between. By the time you were finished, night had fallen. You were nervous about tomorrow, were things going to end up like the last night you had spent with Joel? Mark was gone.. you didn’t need to worry about him. Were you ready for that? Sure, you had asked for him to take you.. but were you ready to go that far? There was uneasiness between both of you, feelings wouldn’t change that. You would have to talk, have him listen, pray he would understand. Was now a good time to tell him everything?

You rested your hand over your bump as you sat on the couch, watching an old soap opera you had on DVD. The baby was definitely getting bigger. It was hard to think about it, but a small part of you was excited. There was the thought of names, baby clothes, toys. You wondered if it was a girl or boy. It was strange to think of a baby who looked like Mark.. it would be hard to look at the baby and not see him in his final moments. You already occasionally thought you saw him for a fleeting moment, down the corner of the street, in the crowd of the filled bar, a passerby holding themself the same way he did.

How would you even tell Joel? There was so much you needed to say, there was time, there was just too much that needed to be said. Joel had enough on his plate, maybe you wouldn’t tell him at all and continue on for the rest of your life blissfully ignoring him. That was too cruel though. Your relationship with Joel was.. complicated. You left things off for three months on an unfinished note, at least he was open to going on a date with you.

There were other people to tell too. If you gave birth, people would begin asking around for Mark. The truth would come out eventually. You always knew it would. Perhaps you will have thought of a lie by then. Perhaps he left to join a group of free spirited clicker killing hippies. That seemed like a good enough lie as any.

But for now, you wanted to rest. You wanted to sit back and watch the tide roll in, without a worry in your mind.

•••

“Welcome miss..?” The man began.

“Y/N,” You replied, reaching out your hand to shake his.

“Tommy. Welcome,” He smiled warmly. You had finally found the esteemed settlement after weeks of travel.

“Mark,” Mark said, shaking Tommy’s hand, marveling at the sight of the town. Tommy had stopped you while you checked in and got acquainted with the town, already having a talk with Maria.

“Where you guys coming from? Always good to see some new faces round here.”

“I’m from Denver,” Mark told him.

Tommy’s face paled very slightly, not even you or Mark noticed.

“How are things there? Heard some stuff went down a while back.”

“Not too sure, I left right when things got messy.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“And you?” Tommy looked towards you, waiting for your response.

“Oh, all over. Living on my own last few years, besides Mark here of course.” You beamed at Mark.

“How did you two meet?” This was starting to sound more like an interrogation, but you pushed it to the side, they were only being cautious. Maria already heard your and Mark’s story, others would want to as well.

“I found her a few months ago, passing through a town when I saw a group get overrun by a horde. I was trying to hide in an apartment building when I fell right into her camp. Almost blew my head off, but hey, gotta stay sharp,” Mark chuckled.

“He told me about a settlement up in Wyoming, I decided it was worth a shot so we ended up here, had nowhere else to go,” You finished.

“Well glad you two made it safe and sound, welcome to Jackson.”

You woke up in a coldsweat, dazed from sleep. Your hand on your bump, you realized, you must have done it in your sleep.

Mark. His baby. You glanced over at your clock. 11:34 PM. Technically still his birthday.

Last year, you managed to find vintage band posters for him for his birthday. You made him cake too, then you snuck out and went to the lake and watched the stars. They looked different than what you remembered, even though you lived under them, there was something serene about being there. Silence, waters reflecting the moonlight, and stars, the only thing you could see for miles. It was peaceful, quiet, yet it was full of life.

And so when you found yourself climbing the steps into his loft, sitting on his dusty bed with his dog tags resting on your neck, the moonlight streaming in from the curtains, just a sliver open, far enough to see a star. Perhaps they looked the same, maybe they were the same. Maybe you were the one who had changed.

“I’m pregnant,” You whispered into the silence.

“I’m pregnant and it’s yours, Mark.”

No echo, no cabinet slamming shut down stairs, no creaking footsteps. Silence.

“Happy birthday,” You said out loud as you closed the door.

•••

The night of the party, you lit your pumpkins when it got dark and headed to Joel’s house. You hadn’t seen much of him since he had been over, you talked to him briefly one morning, but your schedules were always conflicting. You were nervous about seeing him. Being close to him again.

You found an old cat costume from years ago. A cat headband, a clip on tail, all black clothes. It was simple enough. Since you had been wearing Mark’s dogtags so much, you decided to opt with them, not wearing them felt like you were missing some part of yourself. You doubted Joel would dress up, he wouldn’t be out of place if he didn’t, and you wouldn’t be out of place in your costume either. It was 50/50.

You were surprised to see pumpkins out by Ellie’s house as you entered through the gate, your heart strumming loudly. It looked like she had carved some strange face into a pumpkin, you would have to ask her what it was supposed to be later.

You knocked on Joel’s door, starting down at your shoes, the cold air nipping at your skin. He answered almost immediately.

“How do I look?” You said smugly, turning so he could see your tail, doing a little twirl as you did. He wasn’t wearing a costume — like you expected.

“Dashing. You ready to go?” He smiled.

“Of course. Let’s go.”

It was an exceptionally short walk to the church and bonfire. Jackson was a small city, especially considering Joel lived right next to Main Street. They had decorated the streets quite nicely, pumpkins, hay bales, corn stalks, squash, a warm glow seemingly in every window. The leaves twirling around like fire.

The church came into view, the bonfire in the backyard of the church. Groups of people walked in, you could hear the music from here. Joel walked close to you, which you noticed. Close enough, but far enough to not be super suspicious.

He held the door open for you, the music becoming loud as he did. Mark told you once that he loved the rhythms of music, that he could feel the pulse in him, that’s why he liked music so much. Perhaps you could get the person in charge of music to play Bill Withers..

Shit. What if someone asked about Mark? Would they notice? What would you even say? That he was sick? How long until someone would really go looking for him?

Would Joel notice your small bump? You tried to wear baggy clothes. You didn’t have to worry about Maria spilling your secrets — she was trustworthy.

Inside of the church, the party was booming. It smelt of cinnamon and leaves, whiskey and good times. It seemed like all of Jackson was there. People in simple costumes, others dressing normally. You spotted Maria and Tommy, Tommy nodded at you two when you entered.

The song they played was very folksy and upbeat. A crowd had already started dancing, you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on your face. No sign of Ellie, but you did spot Cat, as well as Jessie and Dina. On opposite sides of the room of course.

“So, what do you want to do? Drinks?” Joel asked as he led you to the side of the room.

“Oh no, I’m good for now, but don’t stop yourself from getting one.” .

“Sure thing,” Joel replied, setting off to the makeshift bar table that was set up.

You watched the people dance, remembering how Mark used to pull you into the circle.

“Come on Y/N! It’ll be fun!” Mark laughed, trying to pull you over to the circle.

“Nope. I’m not doing it.”

“Well you’re going to. I don’t care, you have to.” He yanked you forward, pulling you to the dancefloor.

You stood stiffly as a rock. You felt like every eye in the room was on you, even though you really knew they could care less, caring more about nursing a drink or trying to hear the latest gossip.

The music was upbeat and fast, good dancing music. He slowly began to dance, one eyebrow cocked to invite you to join him. The room was orange and bright, it seemed like it was glowing.

“Come on,” He said with a singsong tone. Grabbing your arm and shaking it to the beat.

His dancing became more loose and free, smiling the entire time, a twinkle in his eye. He took your arm and twirled you and leaned you into his arms.

“It’s pretty easy.”

“Not for me,” You grumbled as the music ended.

A slower song came on and Mark groaned, his devil horns tilted slightly on his head. “Alright, looks like we have to slow dance now.” He grabbed your arms and locked them around his neck, then placed his hands on your waist. His hands were like tiny firecrackers on you, every touch sparking as his fingertips gently rubbed against your hips. He was passion.

“You know it’s easier if you just give in.”

“Never,” You hissed playfully.

“Well then just sway with me. That’s all we gotta do, sway,” He told you softly. You rolled your eyes, but you gave in.

The music channeled through him. You liked watching it overcome him, his eyes becoming distant like the music was speaking to him.

“Do you think everyone is looking at us?” You asked, glancing around the room.

Mark gently returned to the surface, “Why would they be looking? Only you and me and the music right now.”

You fought the urge to kiss him. You didn’t want people looking. You had kissed him so many times before, but there was that nagging feeling in you. Like a shadow that trailed you. A thought pushed to the back of your mind.

As if on cue, Mark’s eyes trailed lower to your lips, he leaned in gently to you, as if he were to break under your touch. His lips met yours and a heavy feeling underneath a spark set in. An undercurrent of rapid waters that threatened to pull you under.

Who was watching you?

Joel came back with his drink, a glass of whiskey.

You glanced over at the drink, humor in your voice, “Heavy hitters so soon?”

Joel chuckled lightly, taking a sip from his drink.

“You sure you don’t want anything?” He asked you. You shook your head.

“Alright well a few more drinks and I’ll be out there on the dancefloor in no time.”

“Didn’t take you as much of a dancer, cowboy.”

“Oh, I’m not. More like a dying chicken with its head cut off,” He laughed, shaking his head. Couples bounced to the music. You couldn’t remember ever having seen Joel dance, then again at parties you were almost always preoccupied.

“Do you want to head outside to the bonfire?” You asked him, seeing the glow through the windows.

“Yeah.”

You led him to the backyard where the more mellow crowd was. It was crisp outside, and awfully cold, you wished you would had brought a better jacket.

The sky was crystal clear and the stars were brilliant. The only truly good thing you could think of that came out of the apocalypse was no more light pollution. The stars were true and had looked that way for years.

The fire was large and powerful, it crackled and hissed but the warmth was inviting. Groups of people chatted around the fire, Joel led you to a fallen log by the fire where you could sit.

The party chatter and the muffled sound of the music could still be heard from outside, the looming walls right next the church wasn’t the best view, but the stars were all you needed.

“Nice night, huh?” Joel asked, looking up to the sky.

“Yeah,” You said, your teeth chattering slightly. You rubbed your hands together and aimed them towards the fire. Joel had brought a jacket at least.

“Do you want my jacket?”

You blinked. “No, no, it’s fine, I’ll just uh..” You trailed off, you wanted his jacket.

Joel chuckled quietly, shaking his head. He shrugged off his leather jacket and placed it around you. You felt your cheeks grow warm, and it wasn’t just because of the fire, you turned your head away and looked down briefly.

You looked back up at the stars, receiving courage from those little stamps of light. You leaned your head against his shoulder. He was warm, he felt safe, like a blanket wrapped around you. It was a natural feeling. You pulled his jacket up so it covered your neck. You wanted to stay like this forever.

God, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to tilt your head up and place a gentle kiss on his lips. You wanted to kiss him in front of the stars, you wanted to kiss him in front of the fire, you wanted to kiss him on the dancefloor. You wanted to kiss him, you wanted to feel the way he felt against you, you wanted to share that sacred feeling like you’re the only two people in the world again.

But no, you couldn’t. Three months and you ghosted him. He was rightly upset with you. There were things you had to say. But he was here now, going on a date with you, giving you his jacket. The feelings were still there it seemed. A part of you was relieved.

You let yourself fully relax, he placed an arm around your shoulder.

You stayed like that for awhile, simply watching the fire crackle and the stars twinkle. Time was no foe anymore.

In a way it felt like Mark was there too, maybe it was the fact that it was Halloween, maybe it was the strange imbalance of practically everything in your life. It felt like he was there and he was smiling at you.

Joel was smiling too.

•••