#maybe this is just what happens as you get old but there are people my age who do 'get' current music so it also may be just me

[ultramaga]

"An aggressively racist man can still have the support of numerous people of color", says the moron incapable of consciousness. Here's an idea. Maybe he wasn't racist? Maybe, instead, you are ? "A chauvinist that wants to enforce laws" Oh no. He wants to enforce laws. How dreadful. "an restrictions on women's bodies" Everyone's body is restricted. Which is why it is a crime for a man to punch you. Every Leftist manages to forget that one the second it is inconvenient.

Good thing he enforces the laws. "coined the term "grab 'em by the pussy"" Oh, how dreadful, a heterosexual wants to touch the genitals of the opposite sex. Where is my fainting couch? Leftists always edit out the "when you’re a star, they let you do it".

Because it's inconvenient to admit that women do gravitate to high status males, even if it's just to use them as cash machines.

Oh, I am sure they let him grab more than a pussy ....

"A xenophobic man who wanted to build a wall" If he was xenophobic, he wouldn't have married his wife and certainly wouldn't be beloved by foreigners. You confuse wanting to keep out criminals with hating outsiders because you don't know there's a difference. Because you are racist, or a moron.

Walls around countries are pretty common.

Or are Indians just xenophobes as well?

"still has the support of immigrants" Yeah, the people who obey laws don't want the criminals inside the house. So what does that make you, glassmermaids?

Oh right, you are from South Africa, the country where whites are routinely murdered if they aren't behind walls. So of course you want the walls torn down - silly me!

"People still support and voted for a convicted felon" As opposed to Kamala Harris, who boasted that she broke the laws and never, ever was punished - the same laws she imprisoned young black men with, the same laws she used to make them slave for her. Of course you are in favour of two-tier justice -- rules for thee, not for me. And look at the trial -

https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2024/05/29/jurors-must-be-unanimous-convict-trump-can-disagree-underlying-crimes/

THE JURORS WERE TOLD THAT THEY DIDN'T HAVE TO THINK HE WAS GUILTY OF THE ACCUSATIONS TO VOTE HIM GUILTY. There's no precedent for that.

Which is why HE HASN'T BEEN SENTENCED. It was obvious to everyone that it was a political witchhunt of exactly the sort that is routinely used in corrupt states to eliminate political opposition. So the accusation that he's a felon? He literally isn't! And the American people didn't think he was guilty either. Of course, what was he even accused of? Paying hush money to a sex worker? What happened to "sex work is real work"? Funny how that vanished the second it was inconvenient. But tell me, how many convictions did Hunter Biden get for his under-age hookers? None? Even mentioning his laptop got you censored and threatened with prison? Laws for thee, and none for meeeee! What about the cocaine in the Whitehouse? No consequences? Huh.

But as Leftists point out, it's not "hush money" when Leftist leaders do it, it's "a settlement between gentlemen and their many ladies of the night".

"People still support and voted for a convicted felon, racist, rapist" Number of convictions is zero - the best you ever got was he paid hush money to a sex worker. In fact, you know who does commit rape?

Yup! South African women are proven to be more likely to be rapists than Donald Trump. Huh. Makes me wonder. Makes the old noggin' go a'joggin'.

"people still support and voted for Donald Trump" And they will never do that to you. Your birth is back there in time, your death somewhere forward of now, and nothing in between those events will matter a fig.

So much salt.

So. Much. Salttttttt.

Rape allegations and charges do not ruin mens' lives because a rapist can run for president and win. An aggressively racist man can still have the support of numerous people of color, can run for president and win. A chauvinist that wants to enforce laws an restrictions on women's bodies and coined the term "grab 'em by the pussy" still has the support of women. A xenophobic man who wanted to build a wall to keep foreigners out of the country still has the support of immigrants. People still support and voted for a convicted felon, racist, rapist and scum of the earth. Despite it all, people still support and voted for Donald Trump.

[theveil-and-thepath]

Mini PAC n°1 - What will happen until the end of the week?

Pile 1 - Pile 2

Pile 3 - Pile 4

You can pick more than one! Just follow your heart!

This is my first time fully using Lenormand cards, let's see how it goes.

*This is a source of entertainment, your destiny is in your hands.*

Pile 1

Wip, star, bouquet, mice, crossroad. Dog, fox, snake. Heart, birds, bear. Birds, garden, snake.

You'll suddenly accomplish something that you greatly desire, but in order for this to happen you'll need to defend your position and status and not let other people bring you down.

This thing you accomplish will have the double effect of solving some of your problems and concerns, and it might make some discontent people who steal your energy leave your life.

You'll interact with several people who are your seniors or more experienced than you. Only one has your true interest at heart, but all three are smart and will teach you new things about how to behave.

You may hear positive gossip about you. Some will say you have more money or are more important than you see yourself.

You may feel, or hear the promise of, the support of a powerful friend.

Keep an eye open in the places you go to this week. You can have fun at a party or event, but some will envy how you look.

Your spiritual protection practices are working, you'll see how you're more resitant to evil eye now.

Pile 2

Anchor, bear, book, heart, cross. Wip, letter, mountain. Coffin, mountain, tower. Snake, wip, ring.

Some of you will meet the love of your life, your counterpart. Maybe it's a new friend. Regardless, it's a fated encounter with someone who's as or more mature than you, stable in life, very smart/went to a good school, this person knows when to shut up and when to talk; try not to get a wrong first impression of them because theyll like you more than they'll convey. Your guides are planning your encounter.

You may start to study something new that you've been meaning to for a while.You may have an insight or receive a tarot reading (can be on youtube) that will help explain your recent love problems.

If you think of an ex this week, it's so that you see it all in a new light and move on, or to remind you how to avoid the same undesired result.

You may receive an email postponing an event or listing extra requirements you need to meet to accomplish a goal of yours.

You need to rest and sleep well before a big day.

Beware of double faced people offering you things too good to be true, perhaps they want you close to them so they can ruin your life more easily.

Be smart against those who are cunning and trying to get rid of you because they see you as competition.

Pile 3

Man, book, rider, lily, woman. Fox, anchor, child. Dog, bear, tree. Tower, heart, anchor.

A relationship you already have may progress this week and this person may reveal positive feelings that they've kept hidden. You may feel that one of your connections originated in past lives.

A good week for school and learning.

To start a new venture, you need to be smart not work hard. You may take a significant step to solidify a new project of yours.

You have great friends and family. This week you'll express your gratitude to the universe for having them. You may even receive help from old friends.

Old relationships become stronger.

This week you'll see how much support you have around you, you'll also be proud of how far you've come and how solid it's the life you've built.

Pile 4

Letter,sun, heart,bouquet, scythe. Tree, mice, wip. Anchor, sun,bouquet. Key, woman,clover.

What a bright and blessed week of reaping your rewards. Someone will compliment your work, give you amazing feedback, may say they want to keep in touch for future endeavors or ask for your number so they can call you on a date.

All the good things you desire? This week you can be so close to them it's just up to you to pick it up and take it for your life.

You receive the yes, the answer you wanted to get.

Your crush will text you, or your partner may ask you out.

If you're in a relationship, texting can turn into sexting, or you'll receive a kiss or offer for a sexy night out of a sudden.

You'll get rid of energy vampires or bad habits that have been draining your energy and slowing you down.

You'll cut off junk food or reject a specific food or drink for the sake of your health.

You may go to the doctor or start a health treatment.

This week feels so good, that some of you will get married or become engaged. May start dating too.

You'll feel your spirit guides close and showing you good things about your future.

You reach the jackpot. Somehow you'll know what you'll have to do so you level up big time.

You may receive the opportunity of a lifetime. Big thing!!! Receive it.

You're so smart and capable that people can't help but admire you.

This week you'll know that you can do it!

[short-honey-badger]

Doll

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Summary: Shanks meets an escaped slave from Marie Geois and swears to teach her how to live.

Notes* hey lovelies. As you can see from the oneshots, I'm finally back in action. I hope you enjoy the start of my new series that I'm planning to help me really get going. Expect some protective Shanks and some darker elements. Pretty fast pace just cause that how I enjoy writing him lol. I've really missed writing for him and sharing works with you wonderful people. Anyway, enjoy! ❤️

Doll Masterlist

There aren't many things that could surprise Shanks on the Grand Line anymore, but the woman that sat at the bar could definitely be considered a good one. He didn't recognize her, but he could tell that she was in a league above the other patrons that sat around the bar. She sat in the back corner, a bottle of booze sat on the table in front of her that she occasionally took a pull from. Shanks sat at the front and got the attention of the bartender.

“Who's she?” He asked and the man shrugged as he cleaned a dingy glass.

“Dunno. She blew in a couple of days ago. She pays, so I don't ask questions.”

Shanks huffed and ordered a drink for himself, “And whatever she's been drinking, too.”

Drinks in hand, Shanks stood from the bar and ambled over to the table where the woman sat. He plonked the bottle down and, head tilting to the side, “This seat taken?”

You looked up, blinking rapidly as if coming out of a daze and gave the redhead a smile once you focused on the ale he'd sat beside your empty one. “Is now.”

Shanks grinned and plonked down in the chair opposite you and leaned back and eyed you from under his bangs, “You from about here?”

The woman shakes her head, a mysterious little smirk painting her lips, “Nope. And I can tell that you aren’t either.”

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing in thought before her eyes brighten like a bulb has gone off, “You’re Shanks, right?”

The emperor huffs and gestures to himself, “You caught me.”

He doesn’t expect the woman to go quiet, an almost contemplative look about her as she shifts in her chair. He can’t help but lean in, curious despite himself.

“Maybe you could help me out then?” You murmur and flick your eyes up to meet his own. Shanks is surprised to see the desperation lingering there, hidden behind the self-assurdness that you seem to wear like a second skin. What would a girl like you need help with?

“Alright, I’ll bite. Tell me what’s going on. Don’t let my money go to waste though, doll,” he murmurs and gestures to the untouched ale that he’d brought over. You smile in thanks and take a sip, wetting your mouth as you get ready to spill. You can only hope that the emperor will accept.

With shaking hands you reach up and unbutton the top few notches of your shirt, just enough to expose your left shoulder where the brand still tugs uncomfortably at your skin. Even though you’ve had the brand for years now, you’ll never get used to the sickening way it pulls at your skin. The constant reminder that you were owned.

Shanks sucks in a sharp breath, the brand of a slave staring back at him in before he tears his eyes away and looks back at you, “How’d you escape?”

You grimace and button back up, eyes flinty, “My old master,” you hiss the word in disgust, “Sent me on an errand in Sabaody so I took my chance. That was about a month ago now. They’re stil looking for me.”

“Who got your off the archipelago?” Shanks asks and downs half his tankard of rum in one go. He’s met slaves before while visiting the string of islands, but with Silvers there, Shanks steered clear most of the time unless he happened to drift close. The though that even after all that Fisher Tiger had done, the Celestial Dragons still kidnapped and baught slaves. It disgusted the emperor to have seen that brand on a woman like you.

You shrug and bite your bottom lip. You busy your hands by playing with the ring of condensation that the bottle of ale has left behind, “Didn’t really catch their names. I stowed away the first ship I could find and I’ve been drifting ever since. I just… I can’t go back to that place Shanks. I don’t want them to find me.”

Shanks doesn’t know what makes him reach out, but he takes both your hands in his own, and wow, you were such a small thing weren’t you? He squeezes your palms and gives you a confident grin to hide the rage that threatens to erupt like an active volcano. He may have just met you, but there is a feeling in the pit of his stomach that tells him that he’d met someone special. Someone that could change his life, and he finds himself hardpressed to even think of letting you slip away from him.

“Don’t worry, doll. I won’t ever let that happen,” Shanks swears, and it’s then that a thought crosses his mind. A blush flushes his face and he peers at you, “Maybe you outta tell me your name, though. Or I could just keep calling you doll. Either works for me.”

Your laugh sends a shot of heat straight to his stomach, and your smile could light up the sky, “My name is _, but you can keep calling me Doll if you’d like.”

Shanks meets your grin with one of his own and then stands, carefully pulling you up with him, “Well, doll. How about you come meet my crew?”

Shanks stays close to you for the rest of the evening, introducing you to each one of his crewmates and pointing out what they do aboard the ship. You smile and make conversation, though some of it is stilted and awkward, like you aren’t sure how to talk to someone so casually. You loosen up after a couple more drinks, and find yourself leaning against your new captain, bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you watch the crew’s antics.

“I don’t want to be a burden to you, Shanks. Do you think that you could teach me?”

Your voice is soft, breath featherlight against his skin, and Shanks thinks that he would do anything for you in that moment. Instead, he tips a bottle of rum up to his lips and takes a deep swig before he answers.

“Sure, sweetheart. What do you want to know?’

Your eyes burn with a sort of determination that the emperor doesn’t see often, and it makes anticipation well up in his chest as you lick your lips and look at him.

“Everything, Shanks. I want to know everything.”

He sets the bottle away so that he can give you his full attention. He can feel the air thicken, the winds and sea changing as he dips his head and reaches out to cup your face in his hand. He swipes his thumb along your jaw, then your chin, eyes never leaving your own.

“Then that’s what I’ll do, Doll. I’ll teach you how to live, yeah?”

[keferon]

texaid mecha au babble.

Even tho Jazz is ofc The Music Guy. Thinking about. Vortex being a chatty MF. Bitching about how most of his previous pilots had NO taste in music, and he killed at least 2 over the annoyance. Maybe he brings it up, teasingly asking First Aid if he wants to pick the soundtrack for his living horror movie. But instead First Aid reflects the question, and asks what Vortex wants to hear. Vortex would probably brush it off, naming the most vulgar song he can think of, but when First Aid actually brings in a little speaker and plays it anyways... totally rags on him for being a people pleaser. And maybe makes him play it loud enough that it echoes in the hangar. It's not like they can just replace the one pilot who survived over a little WAP. But in the end, Vortex does rattle off a few songs. Loud, and violent, and perfectly suited to him. They are played for him, and never satisfied, he asks for more. Over time, the older technicians who listen closely realize that his old workout playlist is being rebuilt- all the tracks he used to listen to in the pilots training area, regardless of how many times he was told to keep it down.

The nostalgia is nice, for a while, but eventually it fades. Vortex is less absorbed in the music, more prone to mischief- not a great mood for him to be in with First Aid inside him. Maybe First Aid finds out some of Vortex's favorite bands released albums after his death, and brings them in. They make a night of it- First Aid standing in the cockpit, playing DJ but still not willing to get in the pilots seat unless necessary. At first he's tense, as usual, unable and unwilling to forget the constant threat of the weapon he entertains. But it goes on a long while- and he begins to sway. Gently, swaying on his feet, tapping the beat out on his arm, nodding his head along. Eventually, the last song ends, and the night is over. First Aid is startled by the silence, and only then realizes his eyes had been closed. On the screen, text mocks him. "Next time you give me a private show, bring the karaoke versions. I wanna know if you sing as poorly as you dance"

Oh MY GOD AHAHAHWHWHWHWHWH

YES. OH THIS IS AMAZING I LOVE IT

Imagine someone who knew Vortex just happen to be around and hear it.

Imagine Swindle entering the building and instantly recognising the song and just. Fucking. Freezing for a second.

[yamumsyadadd]

the forgotten girl (2)

posted originally on my old account. will be posting twice weekly :)

Amelia Scott-Higgins was a person a lot of people looked up too. The winner of the 2019 Ballon d’Or who was just 21 at the time. She was an inspiration on and off the field, so you can imagine everyone’s shock when she disappeared. Only a few know the gruesome details of her injuries, and those happen to be Barcelona players Lucy Bronze and Keira Walsh. Alexia Putellas had always admired her, as a person and a player. 

“Do you think we could convince her to join us? We need a striker and she is the best!” Jana excitedly said to Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid as they walked into the locker room. 

“No, she was the best. Past tense.” Ingrid said. 

“Ale you could totally convince her! You guys were friends no?” Jana’s words were loud through the quiet locker room. 

“Who are you convincing?” The English accent through the Spanish was still very clear to this day and unmistakably came from Lucy. 

“Amelia Scott-Higgins! She’s living in Barcelona and Ale used to be her friend! We need her Luce!” 

“No. Understand what I am about to say. No one here is to contact Milly and ask her to play. No one is to ask her to come to a game or to hang out. She has been through enough and you will all leave her the hell alone.” Keira spoke extremely firmly. No one has heard her talk like that before. 

“Kei, come on they don’t know.” 

“That’s exactly right Lucy. They don’t know. You all think she’s this amazing footballer and want her to play, but she went through some fucked up shit. She doesn’t want to play, she doesn’t want to watch. She wants to be left alone so that’s exactly what everyone is going to do: leave her alone.” The locker door slammed as Keira left. She would protect Amelia now, since she couldn’t before. 

Before it all happened, Keira, Leah and Amelia were inseparable. The group was formed at a football event the first year Amelia moved over to the UK, in 2014, at just 16 years old. Emily played with Man City, alongside Keira, Lucy and Georgia. Despite playing at different clubs, they always made time for each other. The unlikely friendship with Alexia Putellas started in 2017, after both signing with Nike and having to do a campaign. Both girls were socially awkward, they sat in silence for most the day until Alexia invited Amelia to dinner. From there on out, they were very close friends. 

Alexia struggled with the fame, Amelia did not. She was able to offer advice to Alexia, sharing ways to keep relationships private, or how to compartmentalise. Alexia didn’t even get a text off of Amelia when it all happened. She had flown to England to attend the funeral. A numb, bruised and bandaged shell of a friend stood before them all. 

“You knew Amelia?” Olga asked quietly over dinner the night after their run in. 

“Yeah. I knew both Amelia and Emily.” The sadness evident in Alexia’s voice. 

“Why’d she quit? I googled her. She won the Ballon d’Or and UEFAs best player. What happened?” 

“Her wife was murdered and she was hurt. I don’t even think I can begin to explain the type of player she was. She was easily the best player the world has ever seen. No matter what, she worked hard. She cared, if a person got hurt you’d know because Amelia was there first. After her opponents lost, she wouldn’t celebrate her win, she’d go around and tell them everything they did well, hug them and let them cry. I went to the funeral, she was just a shell. Covered in bruises and bandages, in a wheelchair. Then she just vanished. On the first anniversary of Emily’s death, she deleted every single social media she had, changed her number and quit football. I hadnt seen her since, apparently Keira and Lucy hadn’t either.” 

“that’s a lot for one person to go through. Where are her parents?” 

“Doesn’t have any. They died when she was little, from what she shared she was in foster care in Australia until they let her come to the UK”

“Maybe you should invite her for dinner? She could use a friend.”

“No. YOU should invite her. You’re someone who she doesn’t know and you two seemed to hit it off.” 

Olga didn’t tell Alexia, or anyone for that matter, but Amelia had followed her on instagram that night after they met. Seemingly on a private, almost anonymous account. Olga had no plans to force Amelia back into football or back into Alexia’s life, but the more she learnt the more she wanted to ensure she wasn’t alone in this world. 

Every morning, Alexia would run along the beach. It was usually quiet and calm since Spain generally didn’t wake up until later in the morning. Every morning, she would watch the same surfer. Scars scattered on her legs, one long scar from the back of her hip, across her torso. Alexia knew it was Amelia, but she never stopped to say hello, not until that morning. 

The morning that would change things. 

[liliapleasesteponme]

Show me those fangs 🦇

Vampire!lilia x fem!human!reader

Summary - you explore a dark, gothic mansion alone on a dare from your friends and meet a much different fate

Making out, pet names (doll, sweet thing), mistress kink, degradation (its only one line), hickeys, blood, oral (r receiving), begging

@klien2000

Note - i imagine she was wearing this

"ok y/n, truth or dare ?" one of your friends asked. You were having a party with a few friends while your roommate was out of town and at this point you all a bit tipsy. You had replied 'dare' and the dare went along the lines of "you know that creepy mansion on the hill that everyone says is haunted ? I dare you to go into it alone. AND at night."

You didn't think it was haunted, but that it was probably just old and abandoned. You accepted the dare and, because it was nearing 10 pm, you put on a more presentable outfit and went out to complete the dare while the rest of your friends stayed the night.

Just as you got to the bottom of the hill, you felt a shiver down youe back. You tried to brush it off but it did make you feel a bit more wary of going to the mansion. You began to climb the hill, feeling an increasing anxiousness. Once you reached the top, you faced a new issue. How to get in.

The gates were chained shut and the walls were high. At first it looked as though there was no way in but because the house was unkept, there was vines growing, giving you a way of climbing over the tall walls and into the garden.

The garden was beautiful, even though it was overgrown. There were bushes carved into animals (snakes, dogs, rabbits, ect) and colourful flowers amidst the long grass. It almost looked like a fairytale. The mansion was much different though. Dark exterior, gothic stained windows and statues.

You went up to the door and it immediately slammed open. 'ok, so maybe it is haunted' you thought with a hint of sarcasm. You stepped inside and were taken aback by how amazing it looked. Everything was like something out of a castle. There were portraits of old people on the walls, candelabras, gold-legged tables and a vase of flowers that looked like they'd only just been picked. You thought the flowers were strange but chose to move past it.

You made your way to what seemed to be a grand dining room. The table in the center was long and covered by a red and gold table cloth and on it was a glass of wine that had clearly just been poured. It suddenly dawned on you that this house may not be abandoned. You froze for a moment before quickening your pace towards the door.

Just as you reached it, it crashed shut so hard you almost fell down. You were trapped. You frantically looked for another exit but your attempt was unsuccessful. You thought you might aswell explore some more since you were stuck here.

When you got back to the dining room, you stopped for a moment to think about what just happened. All of a sudden, everything went black. You felt a pair of hands push you against the wall as you drop your bag to the floor. "why are you here ? Who are you ?"

For a moment, you couldn't breathe pressed up against the wall but the grip the person had on you lessened so you could answer. "I'm y/n. M-my friends dared me to come here, i-i swear i don't mean to cause trouble."

You began breathing very heavily and the person spun you around to be face-to-face. It was a woman, much older than you. She was wearing a light blouse and a fitting black and red corset. If you were being honest, you thought she was very attractive but that thought was quickly suppressed when she began talking. "well, well, what will i do with you, huh doll ?"

You were too surprised by her pet name to say anything, so you just stared at her for a while. Her eyes were a deep red, filled with rage and what you secretly hoped was lust. When you didn't respond she opened her mouth to speak again thats when you saw them. Her two large fangs. She was a vampire.

How had you not realised before ?

She must've seen your reaction to her fangs because she instantly closed her mouth again. For a moment you couldn't help but glance at her dark red lips. Somehow you weren't as afraid as you probably should have been, she only seemed to intrigue you.

"what ? Never met a vampire before doll ?" she asked, clearly amused by your reaction. You didn't know how to react so you just gently shook your head. "let me hear that voice, sweet thing"

You let out a shaky breath, "are you really a vampire ?"

"mm believe it doll," she said with a smirk "now then ... Back to my previous question. What am i to do with you ?"

She hesitated a moment before taking a step back and leaning against the grand table behind her. In that moment, you likely should have run as far away as possible, but you didn't. You stayed put, chasing the reason for your initial intrigue. The vampire decided to answer her own question, "you're lucky i've let you last this long really. Most of them are dead by now,"

A streak of fear ran through you as she said those last few words. Of course ! She's a vampire. How could she not kill people ? "besides, i think your different. You don't have that glint of fear in your eyes like the others usually do. Theres something different there."

She looked you up and down for a moment and offered you her hand. You took it with no hesitation. You'd begun to trust her, despite everything she'd said so far. "so, what's your name then, doll ?"

"y/n," you told her, honestly hoping that instead of using it that she'd keep using those pet names that had begun to grow on you. "and you ?"

"Lilia. But thats not important. You can call me mistress." You were slightly taken aback that she asked (or more demanded) that you call her mistress and even more so that her name was just as beautiful as her face.

With that, she began to drag you to another room of the mansion. Your mouth was open in silent awe as you saw more of the house, it really was like a dream. The two of you reached a large door, to which she pushed open to reveal a beautiful bedroom. The walls were a strong burgundy and the room was laced with golden accents, including the bedsheets.

You had taken a step forward to fully take in the room when Lilia spun you around to face her and embraced you in a passionate kiss. The kiss was unlike any you'd had before. It was fiery and fierce yet caring at the same time. You moaned into the kiss, giving the vampires tongue better access to you. As the kiss deepened, you felt her fangs brush against your lips. Her fangs aroused you further and your mind began to think that it may not be so bad if she bites you.

After a minute or two, you broke away from the kiss to take a breath. Lilia put her hand to your hair, using it to tilt your head to the side, exposing your neck. This is it you thought as she moved closer to your neck ... But no, not yet.

She began to kiss and suck on your neck leaving a trail of hickeys as she moved further down to your collarbone. You practically moaned out, "please, touch me."

She drew back, looking you dead in the eyes, "use my name first, sweet thing"

"Lili~" she cut you off as soon as you began, "not that one, doll."

"mistress, mistress please touch me. I need you." she let out a hum of acceptance, "begging already huh ? Pathetic."

You whimpered in response, gazing into her eyes. Then she pushed you onto the bed, climbing on top of you with hungry eyes. Her hands moved quickly to remove your clothes, leaving you fully exposed to her.

She was quick to focus on your breasts, teasing them with her fingers. She began to leave another hickey on your breast while her hands snaked their way down to your hips, holding you in place because of how squirmy you'd gotten.

Suddenly, she moved lower so her head was between your thighs. She began marking you again and you were becoming too needy so you let out a loud moan, pulling on her hair slightly so she would go faster to your aching pussy. This time she wasn't as reciprocative. She bit down on your inner thigh with overwhelming strength. Her fangs were deep inside you and all you could do was moan even louder.

Blood dripped from the wound when she pulled away. She licked up the remaining blood around the bite and moved so she was eye level with you. There was a small drop of blood that had fallen from her lip that she seductively wiped away. For a moment, you couldn't move due to what happened, you just watched her face and how her expression softened.

"are you ok doll ?" she asked with genuine care in her voice. You nodded you head but it wasn't good enough for her. She needed to be sure. "i need words y/n."

"im ok." you pushed out weakly. "please, i need you."

"i know what you need, doll, let mistress take care of you." her words gave you butterflies and your pussy was so needy for her right now. Her head was back inbetween your legs and she didn't waste any time in going straight for your pussy, licking a stripe down your wet hole.

After the first taste, it was like she developed an addiction. She plunged her tongue into you, making your back arch from the sudden pleasure. She moved her tongue in and out of your wet pussy feeling how close you already were. Your moans had become uncontrollable.

Her pace quickened as she licked and sucked your clit while her fingers were tracing the bite mark on your thigh,"hmph fuuck~"

"come on, you can be louder. I want to hear you scream." she emphasized each word in a way that drove you crazy. Your moans became louder and louder until you were convinced the whole town would be able to hear you. Overwhelmed by pleasure, you threw your head back against the headboard, only to be pulled back into the vampires sight.

"i wanna see you, doll. I wanna see you face as you cum for your mistress."

"please, im so close, please mistress, can i cum ?" she looked up at you and gave you a nod. You were on the edge and it look one more lick for you to cum in her mouth.

That was probably the best orgasm of your life. She licked up any excess and swallowed all of your cum. Your breathing finally settled as you came down from your high. She moved to lay next to you and put her arms around you, pulling you closer to her body.

This was nice, comfortable. Maybe being turned into a vampire wouldn't be too bad.

Let me know if you liked it <3

- aqua

[serendipitous-girl]

warnings: suicidal thoughts, ideation, reckless behavior, depression, the works

You don't know the sound of the end until you hear it yourself. The last words you ever hear, are they harsh? Are they loving? Do they beat at your heart until it's a bloody and bruised mess of an organ? Or do they hold onto your fading love and cherish it like a generational heirloom.

Perhaps you did know what it sounded like, although you hadn't realized at the time. Saying the last love yous to your parents, kissing your baby brother's forehead for the last time. Joking around with your friends. It all came to an end, so suddenly and abruptly.

You were a ghost and surely this was some sort of hell. Trapped without those you know, struggling to survive in the strange unknown.

Your heart was empty, drained of all the blood and love it usually needs to survive. You were less than a ghost, you were a corpse. Maybe you should bury yourself alive, let the dirt swallow you whole until you are nothing but fleshy food for the creatures of the ground.

Sometimes, you wondered if you even still had blood beneath your veins. If you were to take a dagger and slice it across your palm, would that ruby red drip past or would it stay silent? Would your body cry out or would you stay forever mute?

How long have you been in this place? Months or years- it was hard to keep track when your brain had shut off long ago. A puppet for others pleasure, to be used and used. He didn't see you, not truly. He just wanted you to be useful, not to be a human.

Did you do something cruel in your old life? Was this some sort of divine punishment? Maybe this was the universe telling you, you don't deserve love or affection. You deserve this.

To be worked like a dog day and night. To be forced to save those you don't even know, all the while sacrificing your own sanity. None of these people can understand the way your body is nothing but a bag measly holding onto your soul when all you wished to do was let go.

Could they see the haunted look in your eyes? The dark bags under them? The sickly pallor of your skin? The way you dragged your feet as if it took too much energy to walk properly.

Or worse, did they see the way you treated your life with reckless abandon? The way you were so willing to die, like you were wishing it might happen already.

The night grows tired and the day awakens, more moments that you are away from your home. A fish out of water, a monster among gods.

You would have to get through another day, you would have to force yourself through it all. Just for those you didn't seem to even care for you nearly as much as you did for them. Would they die for you the way you would die for them? would they live for you the way you are for them?

One day, maybe, you might be able to feel that rope hug your neck. Or feel the liquid fill your lungs like an elixir of peace. One day, you might die. So you can once again feel alive.

But that day is not now, and it feels nowhere close. You have to protect those who can't protect themselves. You need to be there for them, even if they may not return the sentiment. Were you a hero? Perhaps, but it didn't matter. You'd take the chance to die if it were an option.

“Someday,” you whispered, your voice croaky and dry from lack of use, “I will return home.”

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[ramblingautisticman]

So, I haven't stopped thinking about this post I did talking about Logan being terrified of Wade going quiet because of the whole Stryker-sewing-his-mouth thing, so naturally I wrote a lil angsty thing for it.

(Also posted it to A03 here!)

(Also, @icarusredwings hope you enjoy, cause your little reblog of my post kind of inspired this lol!)

-------------------------------------------------------

It's this constant fear. This constant nagging in the back of his head. Logan can't help it.

Normally, he's fine. Wade is practically talking every minute of every day, but on the rare occasions he doesn't, it catches him out.

Wade doesn't need to know that though. Wade doesn't need to be burdened with more of his own stupid hang ups than he already is. So what if some of his nightmares are more focused on Wade than they are his X-Men? No one but him needs to know that.

Logan just subtly makes sure Wade is fine, reminds himself that "Stryker is dead Peanut, trust me. You made sure of that." and moves on with his day. Mostly. Usually.

And okay, yeah, maybe he should tell Wade. Maybe Wade has a right to know about what happened to the 'other' him. Maybe Logan wants to tell him purely for his own stupid reasons. Maybe he wants Wade to know that Logan won't ever let anyone do that to him. Not this time.

He can't bring himself to tell him though- instead just keeps it buried inside like most of his other trauma- and it works for awhile.

Up until Wade gets a cold and loses his voice.

It's fine. It's totally fine. He is totally fine. Logan definitely hasn't been staring at Wade's mouth just to make sure it's still there. He definitely hasn't woken up terrified and sweating because of the nightmares happening more often. He definitely hasn't had a panic attack because Wade couldn't respond to him. No. Not him. Never.

He could deal with it. Wade was just sick. It was his stupid shitty healing factor working over time to stop the cancer, and as a result he had a cold. It was fine. People got colds. People lost there voice. It wasn't the same. Stryker hadn't done this. He still had his mouth. He could still make noise- hell- he could still speak! It was just alittle croaky and quiet.

Logan knew it really shouldn't get to him this much. After all this time, he should be able to move on from that stupid shit, right? He was over 200 years old, he was grown ass man, he shouldn't be hovering near Wade to make sure he is still breathing out of his mouth. He shouldn't be sitting so close to him on the couch just to hear the tiny mutters he makes. He shouldn't be glaring at his mouth just to make sure he still fucking has one.

He knows this Wade- the Wade that saved him- never went through the Stryker bullshit, and he knows that should comfort him. He knows that should fill him with relief, and in a way it does. It means he never had the one thing he holds so dear taken away from him. It just also means that- that could still happen- couldn't it?

Sure, Stryker was dead, but that didn't mean anything. Laura was still made in a lab and experimented on. Wade was still tortured and traumatised. Just because the guy that started all this shit wasn't around anymore, didn't mean it still didn't happen. Logan couldn't help but think that, any day, someone was going to come and take Wade away. Someone was going to hurt him in a way he wasn't sure he could fix.

Wade wouldn't be Wade without his mouth. He was called 'The Merc With A Mouth' for a reason. Wade's whole thing was talking. He loved making his family laugh and using stupid pet names and telling Logan all about the lore of his favourite show. He loved reading to Al and helping Laura with her drama class. He loved coming up with quick comments and snarky remarks while he killed assholes on missions. Wade just wouldn't be the same if he couldn't talk. Logan knew that all to well- and the though that one day, it might still happen? It just didn't sit right with him.

Even after Wade's healing factor fully kicked back in again. Even after Wade was back to rambling about cartoon dogs and his latest mission. Even after Wade had killed someone with a stupid joke. Even after he started making gross sexual remarks again.

Logan still woke up from nightmares terrified that the Wade he was laying next to had a scar tissue covered mouth. Logan still had panic attacks where the only thing to sooth him would be Wade's soft voice. Logan still subconsciously found himself staring at Wade's mouth- just incase. Logan still hated when Wade was quiet while watching a movie or eating something.

He wasn't sure he would ever get over it. Not fully. He would probably get better with the nightmares, grow used to them in a way he had with the others that frequented his mind, but he would still make sure. Double checking.

He would get used to Wade going quiet when he focused on a show or if he had a mouth full of food, but his eyes would still drift to his lips, making sure they were still there.

He would be okay with Wade sometimes loosing his voice, but it would still send a wave of panic over him. It would still make him lean in alittle closer so he could make sure Wade was breathing through his mouth or muttering something.

Wade would probably never know, Logan would probably never tell him, but he would get better. He would remember that this Wade hadn't been touched by Stryker faster when he woke up. He would settle quicker as Wade mutterd a quiet "I got you baby" as he wrapped an arm around him. He would find comfort in the fact that this Wade- his Wade- would never shut up.

No matter how hard anyone tried.

[prouc]

Hiiiieeeeyo!! This one’s self indulgent 😣!! But a ghost/aparation/poltergeist whatever-you-wanna-call-it reader x Art?? And even more self indulgent, they were lovers when the reader was alive?

OF COURSE!!!!!!! I LOVE THE IDEA SO MUCH

AFTER DEATH DO US APART

I have always been an atheist, I lived laughing when people promised me that there was an afterlife, or some kind of omnipotent god who was always watching, but after being dead for almost ten years now, the only thing I can say, is, I wish that was the case.

Instead of the black hole of nothingness I expected when I died in that car acident, I was met with the fate of being an entity, not a zombie as I first supposed, as no one could exactly see me and I couldn't have contact with anything. I ended up with a fate worse than death itself, the absolute boredom of just being able to watch...

I decided to ''make the most'' of my situation and follow my family around, while also trying to decipher what the hell I was, I didn't think ghosts existed, but it also appeared I was the only one too with this sick fate....Was this some kind of punishment from the same god I mocked years ago...?

I don't know, but I felt lonely, of course I would, there was no one to talk to... or to even touch. I said earlier I tried to follow my family around, making sure they were doing okay, but one person I wasn't being able to find was my boyfriend, I got into the car accident with him but after years of searching, or stalking my family waiting if they said something about him, I was met with nothing, no words were spoken, his name vanished from their tongues, from their memory...But how could that had happened..?

Was he also a ghost...? Was he some kind of creature now..? I could feel my (not-there) head hurting somehow each time I thought too much in the matter, and I decided to drop it. While deciding to investigate some new faces from my childhood neighborhood, I ended up ''staying for dinner'' with a family of four, the couple had a little girl and a boy, and they seemed happy enough for me to stick around to lift my spirits (get it?). I was laying on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling and thinking about my old life, how I missed my dairy cup of coffee, touching myself, my boyfriend's lips on my cunt as I gripping his hair-...You know, the pleasurable things about life.

While I dreamed off my existence, I didn't hear the front door being slammed open, when I finally noticed someone was inside the house was when I heard screams from the mother of those kids, telling them to run. I immediatly fell to the floor, and as if the intruder could see me, I hid out of instict behind the couch I was laying pacefully before. Peeking out when I saw the little girl hiding in a cupboard on the floor, seeing a male walking towards said cupboard, he had probably heard her sobs through the wood, shit.

I stepped out, I knew I couldn't touch anything or anyone, let alone save that poor girl that was going to be murderer by what appeared to be...a clown...?

It was wearing a black and white pattern costume, black fluffy pom poms and a small top hat, but was made me widen my eyes was the blood that tinted and drenched the costume and the man, he was gripping an axe, wriggling his fingers on it as he silently made his way to the cupboard the girl used as hideout. Maybe it was the shock or my memories, but right away, I didn't recognize such familiar costume...

As the clown opened the cupboard, I threw myself on him, and surprisingly, my fingers made contact with the back of costume, my arms quickly wrapping around his shoulders as I made both of us fall down on our back. Maybe it had been a bad idea, because for the first time in ten years, that hurt like shit. I coughed and tried to roll on top of him as the girl ran through the opened front door, I strandled his hips, jaw clenched in pain and tension as I sat on top of him, my hands grabing his collar when my heart dropped.

''What the actual fuck-?'' I asked to no one as my head decided to iluminate me with the recognition of my boyfriend from ten years ago, the one who supoosedly died too...But now was changed- Now was covered in blood, Shit- his fucking costume. This was his costume when he acted on the circus-

The clown stayed in what appeared to be shock too- before he dropped his widened eyes and parted lips, which were now painted black, clenching his jaw and hardening his glare immediatly, kicking my side, and surprisingly again, it made contact. I was threw to the floor next to him and clunched my side, coughing.

''Damnit- What the hell are you doing, Arthur-?!'' I asked, not letting myself froze in shock from this whole ordeal. He then turned the tables, me strandling him but under, him between my legs, the axe forgotten on the floor too away from me to stab some sense into his head.

I looked at him with ragged breaths, gulping softly as he just looked down at me, eyes devoid of any emotion apparent, black holes staring into my own, frightened from what I have seen him covered with, imagining what he had done to that poor family. We tayed in silence for what appeared to be a long time before his right hand shoot up, I flinched, gasping softly and almost daring to close my eyes when his hand made soft and gentle contrast with my skin...The first time in a long time I have been touched this gently...like he used to. I could feel my eyes softening, almost forgetting in what ways we had met again. His face hadn't ''changed'' but it was as if his facial features were more pronunced, as if they were prosthetics, his eyes dead and his face decorated with the exact same makeout he did for his shows, those same shows I attended...

''What has happened to you, my love...? Where have you been...? I have- I have searched for you so much...'' I said softly, he ''seemed'' angry, serious or just silently devoid of any emotion, but the way he caressed my cheek, his thumb on my lower lip, slightly parting my lips as he used to...He had changed, and I was sure he also wasn't human, but right now, when his eyes also softened and changed when I spoke, almost looking gulty but still not parting his lips to explain himself, to tell me what has happened.

He shook his head silently at me, his eyes holding the first emotion I have seen on him since I met him again, sadness. His eyes slowly lifted from my figure to my own and he leaned closer, his hands coming down to my shoulders, as if he was trying to hug me, as if that motion he had done again and again years ago, it was now unusual, as if he hadn't hugged in a long time...

I instinctively hugged him back, almost crying when my hands made contact with something again, with him...

''Why...Why don't you-'' I gulped again, feeling a knot in my throat from all the unspoken emotions from the two of us. ''Arthur...Why don't you speak to me...? Are you okay...-?'' I tried again, and i could almost feel him flinch the moment i mentioned his name, his head resting on my chest as he did years ago, his hands ever so slightly trembling as he cradled me, and he shook his head again.

''You can't...speak?'' I asked in a whisper, almost scared of the answer, afraid that something had happened to my love...even if he was trying to kill a poor girl moments ago.

He nodded, his grip becoming tighter before he lifted his head, black eyes looking into mine. I furrowed my eyebrows in worry, this time it was my grip which tightened, I parted my lips shakily to speak, my hand caressing his cheek as he looked up to me, he felt broken, like someone had corrupted him, taking away the soul of my Arthur, using it to create such crimes...

''Please tell me what happened- I thought you died...There has to be away for you to...tell me.'' I said in barely a whisper, but he heard me, looking away furrowing his eyebrows tightly, a thin line as his mouth as he shook his head, as if he couldn't tell me anything.

I parted my lips to talk again, not understanding anything at all. How was it possible that he could touch and see her while everyone else couldn't, why was he alive and why was she not able to find him after all these years. Why the fuck was he hurting people, were those prothetics...? What was he now...?

But before I could make a sound, as if he knew what I was going to interrogate him with, he lowered his head again towards my chest and collarbone, and I thought he was just going to ignored me before I gasped from the sudden sensation on my higher collarbone. His grip tightened around me, and I could feel my thoughts being ''ripped apart'' from my brain to focus on the kisses and little nips he was giving me.

''Art-Arthur...-! Wait- We have so much to talk-'' I bit my lower lip at the rather ''hard'' nip he gave to my neck on my pulse point, my legs wrapping around his hips as he began to suck and tease all my collarbone, his hands grazing my sides, almost impatiently. It was as if he had changed, no, as if he had been modified, corrupted into a much harsher Arthur...and it almost felt wrong to call him that.

My hands grabbed his shoulders and I tried to push him away before I gasped in delight as he pushed himself higher, kissing ever so softly the side of my lips, one of his hands quickly going behind my head nad pushing my lips agaisnt his own eagerly, as if he had also been waiting for this, and also wanted me to forget about what had happened.

I fluttereed my eyes close as our lips finally made the contact I had been dreaming for years, my hands weakening instantly and going up to cup his face, making out with him in a gentle but familiar way we both learned to love, at least ten years ago. His other hand eagerly caressing down my body before stopping at the hem of my pants, I could feel my pussy throb the instant he decided to put his hand around the hem of the constricting clothes, and pull them down, leaving me in my shirt and undearwear, my pants forgotten on the floor. He never once stopped cupping the back of my head, remembering the movements he had to make with his lips in order for me to melt in his touch.

His bloodied fingers ripped my underwear, his new eager and harsh side showing, and I don't know if I should like it this fucking much- My eyebrows furroweed in pleasure as my legs were parted open by him, two fingers finally finding my clit, instantly moving them in circles, making me buckle my hips from the friction I needed after years of being a fucking ghost and moans escaping my lips between kisses. I didn't open my eyes, I didn't need to look up to know how fucking bad he was grinning, as he always did, knowing how to make me drunk of his touch and abusing that power while also teasing me about it. In this moment, I didn't care that he had probably killed that family, they could go to hell for all I care...

After everything I have been through, I only wanted one thing, and it was him. Even if he had changed, even if he was now a damn monster who killed for fun or who knows why, if that was my Arthur now...then so be it.

I didn't see him smile, but I felt it between kisses, as he began to move his fingers faster, almost too painful for my unused and needy clit. My core throbbed again, harder this time, advising me that I was going to come, and rather quickly, but that was normal considering I hadn't been able to touch myself or be touched for a fucking long time.

''Art-'' He stopped me with a kiss, I could taste his black lipstick at this point, and I probably looked like a mess.

''I'm going- fuck, please don't stop, please don't stop....'' I whispered like a mantra, finally teethering against the edge after so long and letting out a whispered moan, my hands gripping his shoulders, hips shaking, my moans silenced by his lips.

While I came down from my orgasm, he continued kissing and nipping my skin, backing away to glance into my hazy eyes and parted lips, panting raggedly, almost not registering the sound of his costume being pulled off.

As he put himself betweem my legs again, I subconsciously parted my legs and wrapped them around hips, my hands grabbing his jaw and lowering his face towards mine, immediatly kissing him again, more needy this time, my hands behind his head, feeling how he positioned himself agaisnt my wet and aching folds. Unspoken emotions and words being thrown as kisses, as touches, as his hips slowly but securely pushing himself inside of me, forcing a pained moan to come out of my lips, furrowing my eyebrows slightly, nipping his lower lip out of pain.

He was finally halway in and it felt as if my pussy had missed him, streching itself to adjust to his girth, aching uncontrollably and making him groan without any sound against my lips, slowly moving his hips to enter me completely, the head of his cock caressing my walls each time he moved, pressing himself tighly against my cervix before he backed his hips and began to snap forward, repeating the movement without mercy for my sensitive cunt.

''Art-Arthur- fuck- it feels so good...so fucking good'' I repeated, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as I gripped his shoulders, nails digging in his skinw ithout shame, but he seemed to not care, just focused in rolling his hips in the way I used to love.

I don't even remeber how many times I came, how much I moaned his name, how many tears rolled down my cheeks from overstimulation. But him being between my legs, huffing silently, kissing my tears away gently as he pounded into me, grabbing my body with his hands tinted with the blood of that family, it felt right, as if I could only be seen, be touched when it was him who handled me,who placed his gaze on me, as it was.

Okay, finally finished!

Disclaimer: It is bad, cringe and poor written, I know.

Explaining: I will explain what really happened, Arthur (Art) and the reader (you) had a car accident ten years ago, resulting in the death of both of you, but an entity (probably the same entity who grants Art immortality in the movies), makes a deal with Arthur before he dies, if he follows his commands, turning him in a puppet to commit crimes, he will keep you safe, and will eventually see you again. Both Arthur and the reader begins to lose their humanity, their memories, the feelings of the real worlds but in diferent aspects and intensities, until they meet again.

Art can't tell the reader anything as it was a deal he made with the entity and decides to distract her by the way he used to when they were alive.

Art is then the only one who can see and touch the reader, as it was promised and granted by the entity, that's why she is a ''ghost'' until Art touches her.

[crushedsweets]

I would like to ask if the creepypastas know what happened to each other? Like do Tim and Brian know what happened in Toby’s and Kate’s childhood/past? And if they do know how did they find out?

some do!! this kinda half-assed answers your question cuz i included all 16, so its kinda difficult to cover everyone neatly!

for kate... i dont think anyone but toby and MAYBE clocky/nina would know what happened to her. she doesnt want to talk about it at all, and toby would only find out by connecting the dots of random stuff shes said.

i think toby is pretty open about what happened to him. he'd be very quick to make jokes or casually be like "yea i got the shit bullied out of me". so people are familiar, HOWEVER i dont think a lot of them really understand how bad it was for him bc hes so casual with it. i think tim and brian probably caught toby losing him mind, having nightmares, screaming and he'd be like "you dont get it you dont fucking know the shit that happened to me" etc etc. with clocky or kate or EJ, he'd be SLIGHTLY more vulnerable. tell them about lyra and connie, but he's just uncomfortable with that stuff

tim wouldnt really want to talk about his childhood or everything he lost either. i think he'd only bring it up with toby in the event that toby needed comfort, or something to ground/relate to (i.e hospital visits, schizophrenia, loss) OR if someone implies tim has it better than them. then he's like WHAT the fuck do you think you know about me. otherwise he rather not.

brian is pretty similar. he just doesnt wanna talk about it. brushes things off pretty easily, tries to joke about it, or he says something like "it sucked but im here now. gotta keep pushing, why dwell". . .

clockwork keeps that shit to her chest. the most she'd bring up is like "yea i grew up poor, dad was a nutcase, i dont wanna talk about my brother" or implying other people have it easier than she did (which is true 90% of the time. she had it rough). i think only toby and nina would get a better idea of what really happened to her, but she just doesnt like to think about it. itd be a similar case where they catch her having a panic attack or nightmare and she chokes something out .

nina spills everything she doesnt really care. she likes to talk and share and spill her guts, so everyone is pretty familiar with all her ex boyfriends, workaholic parents, getting bullied, whatever. shes a bit more hesitant to bring up certain things that SHE'S done (cheating, cyberstalking, self harm, etc) but she'll happily share times she was a victim to others

EJ would share about his family very freely, and i think if someone asked, he'd tell them about jenny. so i guess it just depends on who cares to ask ? toby, clocky, maybe tim/brian would. jeff and ben might ask like "hey why are you ugly now" and he would not tell them . cuz he needs whoever he tells to ask genuinely and treat it seriously

similar to nina, jeff just yaps and yaps and goes off about how hard he had it (completely warping the story and lying half the time). so he'll just bring it up to brag or compare or compete or prove a point, but its never done very.. vulnerably?

ben doesnt talk about any of it. most of the group knows, because his case (yk, 13 yr old boy kidnapped and murdered amongst several other young teens..) got really big and everyone kinda talked about it without him. he doesnt want pity or to think about it. he'd only bring it up with sally, i think, cuz he feels a bit more seen by her

sally would only tell jane and clocky. i genuinely cant see a reason she'd ever bring it up to anyone else, and those two are the only ones she'd trust (and mary but marys not that big in my au)

jane tells people pretty openly, because she was a victim of jeffs stalking. she tries to make her story more...inspirational? because after all her pain and loss, she still went to law school and all of that. or if someone tries to diminish her pain, she'd be like 'watch your mouth.' i think she'd tell nina and liu. for nina, it'd be like "you dont even care do you? you still love that man after everything? how can you look me in the eye, knowing all he's done, and tell me you idolize him?" and for liu it would be more about like. closure maybe? part of her resents liu even though it was NOT his fault whatsoever and he's also a victim, but shes mature enough to try and navigate the trauma WITH him despire her pain

for liu its kinda similar, but nothing is inspirational. he would tell people because for him, its how he connects to people. connecting on trauma, even if its not the healthiest way. . . if someone asks, he tells them. its kinda sad the way he talks about jeff though. 'i just miss pushing my little brother on the swing'

dina screams and screams at everyone about "YOU DONT KNOW WHAT IVE LOST" because she was held in such a idolized position in her cult. she hates lazari and she blames everyone else because she thinks they have something to do with the devil(zalgo) and thats why god doesnt want her anymore.

lazari would cry to EJ about her nightmares of her mom, but i dont think she'd talk about it with others. it just makes her sad. maybe she'd tell jeff cuz he'd be asking and then He'd belike oh. jeez. ok. LOL. that sucks.

lulu doesnt really remember what happens to her, but everyone has an idea. she mumbles about hazing, how cold the water is, how she doesnt wanna drink again, how the sorority girls are so mean, she just wants to go back to her dorm, whatever. but its just because shes so lost in her mind

ann is more like ... sassy . brags about her redroom business and whatnot, complains about the man who killed her, gets all sultry about kate saving her from her big bad killer, whatever. but she doesnt talk about her family or how she was a femcel neet.

[skimmingmilk]

i've just found out your tumblr has even MORe picket fence writing and im over the moon?? But also my heart was shattered with the back in time wip 😭😭😭 how does sonic find the strength to leave baby tails behind, how does he react when he sees tails again in his own timeline after having met sick abandoned baby tails??

Heheheh, yeah, there are some little fics or scenes I've written that I hesitate to put on AO3 sometimes (or just aren't complete enough to be a story on their own), so I like to throw them at Tumblr from time to time. Glad you found them! :D

Ohh, the back in time WIP... Not sure how much I can give away because of the chance that it's going to end up part of a bigger fic... but it'll still be a long while until I get around to posting that xD Maybe people will forget lol.

Potential future spoilers under the cut?

So! The way I see it playing out is that Sonic is going to find it in him to leave baby Tails behind because he knows they'll cross paths one day, the way they're supposed to and everything will play out from there. He knows he can't stay in the past and he can't take baby Tails to his present. Plus, Silver's with him and it probably wouldn't go over well to try and explain why it'd be a good idea to take baby Tails with him when it would negate pretty much everything Sonic and Tails experienced together since meeting on West Side Island or cause a split in the timeline where now there's a universe where Sonic never got to meet Tails because he wasn't there and now Sonic's time with have two Tailses. He knows that it can't happen.

But... Sonic still can't stop wondering about the little guy. Is he cold? Is he scared? Is he getting enough to eat? Is he lonely? Hurt? All the things he's not letting himself think about when it comes to his Tails (the 10 year old who's on his first solo adventure and basically gone as close to no contact as possible in order to "prove himself"). He projects all that onto the baby version of him because he knows Tails can handle himself (and that's not why he's worried about him, what he's uncomfortable with is the motive behind the journey). So he gets his hands on two Chaos Emeralds and goes back to check on baby Tails by himself. Just this once.

Except it doesn't end up being just once. Because there is this disconnect and distance between Sonic and Tails of the present, doubts that have arisen in the wake of Forces, Frontiers, and now Tails's absence, Sonic's drawn more and more to the past. Baby Tails smiles and laughs and he doesn't pull away from him and he likes to play and explore and he still needs him. It's just so easy for Sonic to make him feel better. Just by being there.

Also, because this is after Frontiers, going through cyberspace and the cyber corruption has opened the gates to Sonic's memories a bit and they're kind of leaking into his thoughts more and more. He's falling into the habit of ruminating, reliving moments and questioning choices he made, things he might've done wrong, could've done better. So that maybe Tails wouldn't feel like he needs to become a completely different person.

Present Tails won't listen to him, but baby Tails hangs onto every word. So maybe by being there... Tails might remember being loved and maybe the 10 year old won't only see the worst parts of himself when he looks in the mirror if Sonic can try again and show the younger version that he's worth something just as he is.

I think Sonic crosses paths with present Tails twice during all of this. The first conversation goes okay, but there's an awkwardness to it. But Sonic does try to make an effort to be more open with Tails in the hopes that maybe it will set a better example. And Tails is surprisingly receptive to it. So Sonic resolves to not go back to the past, because Tails seems to be doing okay after all. And he's reminded that he loves who his little brother is now. The good and the bad made him who he is, and would he really want to change that? Of course not!

Unfortunately, the second conversation doesn't go nearly as well...

So Sonic goes back to see baby Tails in the wake of it - not because he needs it, but because Tails clearly does - but when he arrives, the forest is burning and he can't find Tails anywhere...

[socksracoon10]

Hii!! This is in response to you asking what charles and carlos both did in the vegas gp!

I'm just gonna be completely fully objective here, bc rlly they didn't do anything wrong.

What happened was, a series of radio msgs between the team and Carlos occurred, in which they told him they were going to stay on Plan A (one pit-stop I think) instead of Plan C (2 pit-stops). Carlos argued back, saying they should be pitting and how he wanted to pit right now/ next lap. They said no.

At this point, Lewis is pressuring Carlos, and Charles is behind Lewis. I'm pretty sure george had already pit his second time and was still leading. Max and lando had also pitted a second time.

Anyway, the team finally listen and tell Carlos to come into the pits. However, they mess up and weren't ready and then tell him to stay out. Obv, Carlos is mad now. No matter, they pit him in the next lap.

4 laps later (or 2 I can't exactly recall) they pit Charles. The team tells Carlos not to pressure Charles. The team tells Charles that Carlos won't overtake him. You see where this is heading, don't you.

Charles comes out PARALLEL to Carlos (I think the team thought he'd come out ahead). Carlos' tyres ate 4 laps old. They're heated up. They're faster. Charles has absolutely new, dead, cold tyres. Carlos doesn't pressure him. He simply drives around.

The real dram started after the race when we all saw Charles' radio😭 Honestly, this is just a team problem not a driver problem.

Alot of ppl are saying they would've gotten better results if carlos let Charles ahead— they really wouldn't have. There was no way the ferraris would've caught up to those mercs.

ANYWAYY, there's my most objective views. Maybe, I'm.missing a few things but I'm negl the race was honestly so boring to ACTUALLY watch, like now there's drama but literally nothing was happening apart from this😭

Thank you for this! Cuz this was what I saw during the race and what I thought happened!

I find it frustrating that people are blaming Carlos when it wasn’t Carlos’s fault at all, and I also find it frustrating that people think Charles’s meltdown was wrong. I keep saying this in every post but its clear as day that this was a ferrari problem not the drivers!

Mercedes was on a different level this weekend, they sure as hell were going to be 1-2, no doubt about that. And I get that Charles was trying to get p2 in the driver standings, but… 3-4 for constructors is literally phenomenal? I don’t see how Carlos isn’t a team player when this was the best outcome that could’ve happened. Besides his did better in qualifying anyway.

And I hate people mentioning old races like oh well Carlos moaned about this once… forget the past races, only focus on this one. Ugh, ferrari screwing over their drivers isn’t new but god, as someone who loves Carlos and Charles, I really hate seeing the fans tear each other apart.

Once again, thank you for the explanation!

[marigold-hills]

The Dark Wizard

preview! Wolfstar Howls Moving Castle AU a tiny little bit of the next work I’ll be working on. Posting will begin in December :) massive thanks to the groupchat for checking this over before I posted, you are the absolute best ❤️

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When Remus leaves his hometown, it’s not to seek his fortune, or adventure, or – gods forbid – love. He leaves because he’s a monster, and monsters do not belong in society. They belong in the Waste.

This is how it happens.

It’s May Day. The village of Hogsmead is abuzz with excitement. Revellers and drunks, lovely dressed up ladies and dapper gentlemen circling one another, for propriety's sake staying respectable distances away. The gentlemen whistling at the ladies, the ladies pretending to be aghast by the behaviour, covertly blushing and giggling.

It’s a perfect day. Sunny, warm, bright.

For Remus, it’s perfect for a different reason.

Everyone is too busy to notice their pockets getting lighter. Too buzzed to pay attention to the man dressed in ill-fitting clothes walking too close to others. A casual jostle is just this - casual. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to raise concern.

Remus has a few pilfered wallets in a hidden pocket he sewed into a stolen vest. It’s easy, this. He’s done it for years.

“My apologies,” he smiles at a man in a soldier’s garb, whose money pouch he just appropriated. This one feels good for more than one reason - the soldier was in the process of accosting a lady who did not seem pleased to be accosted. She takes the moment he gets distracted by Remus and ducks away. Remus would like to say that he makes sure to only steal from those who deserve it, but it wouldn’t be true.

Food is food, and money is money, and both are something he needs to live. Remus can’t get a job, on account of being a monster, on account of how many days he has to take out to recuperate and travel somewhere far enough to make sure he wouldn’t let himself loose on his quaint hometown of Hogsmeade. Since his parents’ passing, this is what he’s been reduced to. 

He’s tall but can make himself look unassuming, with hair once golden-auburn and now grey from the effect of too many full moons. It’s perfect for this job, being easy to look over and hard to describe. He’s young but looks old. Feels old, too, but that’s not something for people to see.

Remus makes mistakes in this work so rarely that he doesn’t notice he’s made one until it’s too late.

He’s following a well-dressed man, waiting for an opportunity to strike. The man is exceptionally pretty, with short black curls barely skimming the tops of his ears and a gait like royalty. Remus follows behind him at a stretch, slow and careful, until they round the back of a seedy, dark pub and the man turns around like he is the one who set the trap.

Green eyes like poison.

“Trailing the Wizard of the Waste, that’s brave of you,” the man says with a voice that freezes Remus midstep.

Because he knows better than that. He knows not to go for the people who are dressed overly expensive, with rich black fabrics and shining peacock plumes in their hats. He knows chances are somebody is watching over the really rich. That the possibility of a greater payoff doesn’t compare to the risk of being caught.

And yet here he is: caught.

“Or maybe simply foolish,” the Wizard says. “You don’t look a fool, but such things can be so deceiving, don’t you agree?”

The way his eyes pierce through Remus: all he can think is he knows. Somebody knows. Remus has been found out. 

He turns and runs, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away. Remus remembers what the townspeople did the last time someone was found out. Remembers the stench of burning flesh.

He doesn’t look back once while he flees, not even when the Wizard shouts “my regards to Sirius!”, to his retreating back. 

✨✨✨

tagging you lovely people who had previously been interested in future works - let me know if you want to be in the list for this one as well :)

@tealeavesandtrash

@moon-girl88

@hoje--aqui

@cocoabutterandbooks

@onion-sliced-apples

@prancingpony42

@digital-kam

@remoonysiriusly

@sweetstarryskies

@a-sunset-outside-my-window

@procrastinatingstuff

@annaliza999

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged!)

[emo-mohawk-boy]

The Foundations of Decay Lyric Analysis

(Basically me yapping about my theories for lyrics, lmk if you have any ideas!!)

See the man who stands upon the hill- Hills are higher areas of land. If he's standing on a hill, maybe he's above everyone else (higher position? Rank? Mentality? Experience?) He dreams of all the battles won- Whose battles? Likely his, but maybe his opponent's battles? Potentially glorifying war But fate had left its scars upon his face- Marked in some way? Wounded in battle? Or maybe just a way of saying he's destined to do something With all the damage they had done- Who is being referred to as "they"? Dictator? Fate? Enemies? And so time, with age/It turns the page- Could mean time erases everything? Maybe he's getting old? Let the flesh/Submit itself to gravity- Again with the aging theme, maybe using plastic surgery or something to not have skin sag? Or his body needs to fall (gravity) from the hill he's standing on (first line) Let our bodies lay/Mark our hearts with shame- Could be something about lovers? Marking hearts with shame because they didn't love who they were supposed to (Gay? Not following the Dictator?) Let our blood in vain- Killing "us" won't do anything? You find God in pain- Religion is powerful, maybe being in pain or causing pain causes you to further your faith? Maybe you become like a god? Now/If your convictions were a passing phase/May your ashes feed the river in the morning rays- If your convictions (what convictions?) are wrong, your ashes (death) will feed the river (MOAT?). Morning rays could indicate the start of something; maybe your death is a catalyst for rebellion? And as the vermin crawls we lay in the foundations of decay- What exactly are the foundations of decay? Is it a place? A feeling? A state? Maybe the vermin are taking over as we're unable to help?

He was there, the day the towers fell- 9/11? I've made a post about this theory as well; maybe the Dictator witnessed 9/11? And so he wandered down the road- Could mean he had a glimpse into the future? And we would all build towers of our own- Everyone has their own towers, meaning they could all have their own 9/11-esque events? Towers are generally secretive places, so maybe people don't trust each other anymore? Only to watch the roots corrode- Maybe realizing their beliefs are not what they believe in anymore (Revolution?)? But it's much too late/You're in the race- What race? Electoral race? Running away or towards something? Maybe it means you've already started and it's too late to quit now? So we'll press/And press 'til you can't take it anymore- Maybe pressuring you to do something? Like finally convincing someone to do something? And if by his own hand his spirit flies- Suicide?

Take his body as a relic to be canonized- His body becomes a relic? Canonized? Could be another possible reference to becoming god-like. Bodies aren't typically considered relics unless they belonged to someone important (Dictator?)Now/And so he gets to die a saint but she will always be a whore- Seems a lot like what many women experience, they say a guy raped them and nobody believes it, they just think the woman's a whore. A more likely reason based on the videos so far could be that a man (Dictator) can gain power and eventually pass away as a saint; if a woman did that she might be accused of sleeping her way to the top? If he's the Dictator, he could die a saint (again, religious reference). But who's the woman in this situation? The only two women we know about so far are the Secretary and the Opera woman. Neither of those seem like they'd really fit this line.

(You look stressed out)- Why do you look stressed out? Is there a major event happening??

Against faith (cage all the animals)- Another religious theme. To go against faith could mean to go against the Dictator. Politicians are sometime called animals? Against all life ('cause the message must be pure)- So life isn't pure? Are we trying to make life pure? What message is being sent that must be so pure? Against change (you can wander through the ruins)- Go against change? Is the world a good place as it is under the Dictator's rule? Is the Dictator about to rule? You're allowed to wander through the ruins but what ruins? 9/11 aftermath? Ruins of an old world? War? We are plagued (but the poison is the cure)- What are we plagued by? If the poison (Party Poison? Unlikely but possible) is the cure, does that mean we have to die to escape the plague? Is there misinformation? You must fix your heart- What about my heart do I have to fix? Is it because I'm mortal? Do I need to start following the Dictator? And you must build an altar where it swells- Where what swells? My heart? Altar=Another religious object, build an altar for the Dictator? When the storm it gains/And the sky it rains- Storms are typically bad and destructive? Let it flood/Let it flood/Let it wash away- What are we letting the storm wash away? A past life? Beliefs? Cities? And as you stumble through your last crusade- Final mission, stumbling could mean you're getting weary, maybe that's why it's your last. Crusade=another religious theme Will you welcome your extinction in the morning rays?- Will you accept death? One of the previous lines is about your ashes feeding the river in the morning rays. Maybe your death is the start of a new era? And as the swarm it calls we lay in the foundations- What swarm?

Yes, it comforts me much more/To lay in the foundations of decay- Why is it comforting? Are you finally done fighting? Are you the foundation of decay to come? Get/Up/Coward- Maybe you have to fight and choose something that's not comfortable. Is it cowardly to lay in the foundations of decay? Is it something the Dictator designed?

[admirationandromantics]

Going overboard, 1: Memento Mori

Okay, so first the prologue, and now the first chapter. As I've said before, not all chapters include a Josh-interactions because of accuracy to the game, so you'll just have to live with it. If you haven't read the Prologue, go to my profile, then the masterlist, Josh Washington. You'll find it there. Get ready for tomorrow!

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Chapter 1: Memento Mori

After what happened up on the mountain last year, Josh didn’t stay in touch. At first we all tried to talk to him, help him, but we gave up one after another. He talked with Sam a lot. I think she did the most she could until he cut contact. I didn’t want to put too much on him, and we all were in grief as well, so it probably was the best solution. 

Sam and I had regular coffees. It helped us both. We shared stories about them, and she told me about everything which happened that night. The prank wasn’t about me, nor Josh. Not even Beth, but she still had to suffer the consequences. Poor Beth, and poor Hannah. We all knew she had a thing for Mike, but setting her up like that was not okay. I now despised them all, Jessica, Emily, Mike, Matt, Ashley. Matt was such a sweet guy, I couldn’t imagine him standing there with a camera, recording everything. For me though, Ashley hurt the most. I loved her, I truly did, but I cut contact quickly after I got to know about the evening. She sent me a bunch of texts, begging me to talk to her. She was sorry, she was drunk, caught up in the moment, and everyone was doing it so she felt like she had to. She never knew that the aftermath would be as bloody as it did. I still didn’t text her back. 

A month before the anniversary of their disappearance, Sam got a video message from Josh. He invited her up to the cabin again, stating that this would be a way to honour their memory, and relive the experience, but with a good ending. There would be booze, partying and just making new memories. Based on the video, it seemed like he asked everyone in the old group. Everyone except me. I felt hurt. Betrayed in a way. I was one of the few he talked to, cried to. Our relationship didn’t evolve after the event, but I was still there for him, trying to comfort him. Sam told me that I should come with her, but I declined. If he didn’t want me there, it was okay. She couldn’t understand why, but she kept being insistent, urging me to give it a chance. I didn’t have to be there the whole time, and if I wanted to, I could leave the very next day since the bus went through the area once every day. 

It would be good to talk to Josh, maybe even if he didn’t want to. I was selfish, I knew that, but I had to see him. I wanted to see how he was doing, how he was feeling. This also made me think of Chris. He would probably be there, and I hadn’t kept in touch with him either. I felt bad, but at the same time, we weren’t that close. I knew that he still hung out with Ashley sometimes, and maybe that made me a bit afraid. Maybe she would try to contact me through him? Maybe I wasn’t just selfish. Ashley also needed to talk. Talk to me, clear the air. I would let her. I finally agreed to come with Sam up to the cabin. 

***

The bus is empty, except for Sam and I of course. She didn’t pack much, and I didn’t either. I figured that I wouldn’t stay long. I just needed to talk to people, get some weights off my shoulders. The radio is playing, and no surprise, it’s about Beth and Hannah. I hold my composure, trying not to cry. The trip is long, and I end up sleeping on her shoulder for a good amount of it. Sam is watching something on her phone, but I don’t peek. I simply look out the window. There is an eerie feeling to these mountains. I felt the same last year, but this time it feels stronger. The black trees are covered in snow, untouched by animals. 

Finally we reach our stop. The sign says “Blackwood Pines” and hadn’t it been for last year's events, I would still love the name. Being here for the first time felt magical, straight out of Narnia, joining a winter wonderland of mystery. Now, I feel nervous. The air isn’t as fresh, the ground not as hard and the snow was too white. Instead of smelling winter, I smell something musk, like a dead animal or rotten meat. I look over at Sam, and I think she notices too. 

We start walking in silence, through the gate and up the trail. As we walk, she stops. 

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” I whisper, getting anxious. Maybe it’s a wild animal, a wolf or a bear. 

“Hello!?” Sam shouts, and my eyes widen. Why would she do that, what if the animal looks at us as a threat now. I look around, expecting something to pop out, but it’s silent. 

“Sorry, I probably just thought I heard something,” she says, continuing walking. She notices my tenseness. 

“Are you okay?”

“No, absolutely not” I state, looking around again. 

“Hey I get it, this is weird, but we’re doing this for Josh right,” she starts, taking my hand, stopping me. 

“I hate to say it, but you need to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen, and people are just being friendly”

“I know, I know. I just can’t shake off this feeling that there’s something here”

“It’s because of last year. We’re all still thinking about it, so we know how you’re feeling”

I look up at her. She’s right, I’m not alone in this, and we’ve both been there for each other the whole year. 

“Yeah, thanks for the talk. It’s just… well, weird”

“It is, but I think this is good for you. This trip could be a way for you to let go, get some closure. They both would’ve wanted that for you” she says, before pulling me into a hug. I breathe, and some of the tension lifts. Thank God I still have Sam. When we pull away she looks at me, smiling. I smile back, before looking behind her. My mouth opens, eyes widen and my breath hitches. I grab her hand, holding hard. 

“S-Sam, c-c-careful. Stand s-s-till,” I whisper. She holds her breath while searching my face for answers. 

“Boo!” I shout, punching her with both my hands. She screeches, jumps and I feel her pulse in her hand. 

“Got you” I laugh, while she’s still trying to compose herself. 

“Fucking asshole” she says. I can’t stop laughing. 

“You know, you’re going to ‘wolf wolf’ me.”

“I can live with that” I continue laughing, before starting to walk again, her following after. 

“I’m joking, that was out of line, sorry” I say after a while. 

“At least you got to see my ‘frozen’ face”

“Yeah that’s why I laughed” 

We reach the gate, and a piece of paper is pinned on the lock. 

“The gate’s busted, climb over -Chris” 

“I guess we have to climb,” I state, looking at the gate. There are big spikes on the top of the gate, so I look over at the side. It’s a stone wall. 

“Right up my alley” Sam says enthusiastically. Of course it is. 

“I’ll give you a lift first if you take my bag” she says, already taking off her bag. 

“Fine, just don’t throw me over with those strong climber-arms of yours” I reply, taking her bag and making my way to the wall. She puts out her hands and I grab somewhere safe on the wall. She helps me get up, and I jump down the other side, looking up, waiting for her. 

“Gosh, the stones are cold” she complains, finally getting to the top. 

“Should’ve worn gloves” I smile, showing off my red-covered hands in a theatrical manner. She laughs before hopping down. I give her backpack back, and we continue up. 

When we finally arrive at the cable car station, the place seems empty. I see a couple of cars in the parking lot, but don’t want to check who they belong to. One of them must be Josh’s. I walk up to the bench, noticing a backpack and a ringing phone. My curiosity is immense, but I don’t touch it. Sam notices who’s bag it is. 

“Hey Chris!” she yells, looking around for him. 

“Hey guys” he answers, and we both turn around. He seems older, more harsh than the year before, but I don’t comment on it. 

“How are you ladies?”

“Well, as you can expect” Sam answers, still smiling. I smile as well, keeping the mood light. I don’t notice how much I’ve missed him before seeing him now. Something in me breaks a little. 

“Oh, so, I found something kind of amazing”

“What?”

“I’m not gonna tell you got to see for yourself” he smiles, grabbing his backpack and leading us around the house. We get to the other side where we’re met with a shooting range. Barrels and bottles stacked for hitting, as well as bags hanging from the trees. 

“Ta-da! Pretty rad right?” Chris exclaims, loving this a bit too much. Sam forces a smile, guns are not a source of happiness for a pacifist. 

“A gun range on the bottom of a ski lodge” I comment. “How… nordic?”

Chris picks up a gun before looking at me. 

“Well, have you met Josh’s dad?”

“Yeah”

“Then we shouldn’t be surprised” he says before turning and aiming the gun. I hold my breath, not comfortable with this funny clumsy guy holding a death-weapon. He shoots the bags and one of the cans. I’m kind of impressed. 

“Nice shootin Tex” Sam teases, not impressed. I guess it would take something better than shooting to impress her. She fakes an annoyed look before turning my way. 

“Wanna try?”

“You know what, sure. It’s been a while” I say before taking the gun from him, taking off my backpack and laying it beside me. 

“You’ve done this before?”

“Josh has taken me shooting several times, not hunting though, luckily” I smile, remembering how close we felt the first time he showed me how to use it. 

“I bet that’s not the only thing you two have done” he comments, a smirk on his lips. 

“Haha, funny guy” I tease back. Sam holds her laughter. I shoot a couple of bags, stopping when a squirrel jumps on one of the barrels. 

“I guess that’s our sign to start going to the lodge,” I say, leaving the gun and grabbing my bag. 

“Jeez, I wish Josh would take me shooting,” Chris says, and I smile. 

The cable car is coming, and Sam makes her way over there. I use the opportunity to grab ahold of him. 

“Hey Chris, about this year-” I start, but he holds a finger up, signalling for me to stop. 

“I get it, if I were in your shoes I would’ve done the same”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s weird being back, but I’ve been wanting to clear up everything. We should keep in contact, even though you don’t want to talk to Ashley, I understand”

“When did you become such an understanding gentleman,” I tease, punching his arm and start walking. He lifts his arms in the air. 

“Haven’t I always been?” And I laugh at him. 

We all get in the cable car, and it starts moving up. Chris starts talking about how he and Josh met, and I pay close attention. I’ve only heard this story from Josh, and I love getting the different story-perspectives. 

***

We arrive at the top, I stand and try to open the door. It will not open. 

“Uh, guys, I can’t get the door open.” Chris tries, but can’t manage either. His response is to smack the window. 

“Ahh, what the hell!” I hear someone say. Jessica. I compose myself. 

“Jess! Over here, open the door!” Chris shouts. I see her through the window, and I bite my lips from having to look put together. Don’t look like a bitch, don’t look like a bitch, don’t look like you have anything against this piece of scum. I keep chanting in my head. 

She opens the door, and we all thank her. As we walk out, Chris starts whining. 

“Oh my god. I thought we were goners. Another ten minutes in there and I would’ve chewed off my own leg.”

“Aw, sick Chris,” Sam comments. 

“Look, I’ve got a lot of meat on my bones. This is all muscle down there.”

Sam rolls her eyes. “Yeah riiiiiight”

“Keep telling yourself that Chris,” I add, clapping him on the shoulder as I walk past him. He lowers his voice to a whisper. 

“Well, we all know who’s bone you want to jump…”

I turn around, mouth agape and eyes threatening. He immediately puts his hands up in defence, walking backwards two paces. 

“Just jokes, just jokes” says, voice cracking. 

“Dickhead”

“Notice how I’m not going to make another joke about that,” he answers. I quickly make a snowball and throw it at him, hitting his chest. Sam places herself between us, arms tense as if waiting for someone to attack. 

Chris uses this opportunity to snatch whatever Jess is holding. 

“Well, well, well… What do we have here?”

“Chris” Sam starts. He opens it, a surprised look on his face. 

“My goodness! Seems like someone has a crush on our good friend and dear class president Michael Munroe.” Shit. That’s not good. 

“Chris,” I threaten. 

“And what kind of sizzling erotica might our Jessica be capable of imagining, I wonder…”

Before he’s able to see more, Jess quickly snatches the item back. 

“If you must know-” she starts.

“Mike and I are together now.” We all look at each other. 

“Drama,” Chris answers. 

“No, pretty cut clean actually. Em’s out, I’m in,” she explains. I look over at Sam. She doesn’t know what to say. Luckily, Chris breaks the awkwardness. 

“Well, we should keep going” 

“You go, I’ll be waiting here for a bit”

“Waiting for Mike?”

“Just go”

We oblige, walking further and leaving her behind. The trail is quite big and visible. It’s comfortable to walk on. As we turn a corner, I see the cabin. The cabin where Josh is, where Ashley is probably waiting. The cabin which was the last place two of our best friends were seen alive one year ago.

[storiesabouteli]

TellTales // Elijah Hewson X Reader! (Fluff) Part1 of 2.

prompt: It's a narration of how they are young and in a way they share differences, but they are in love. It takes place in a student environment (college) and continues with a car trip and in the next part reader meets the boys, the fic is just about how they feel about each other in the midst of everyday life and a relationship that is new. And although I commented on sexual relations, I did not describe the act itself, there is no smut. (This story is from my old blog, it's very old, and I decided to rewrite it)

words: 3K

You tiptoed your way through the bleachers, scanning the crowd for him. You hadn’t explicitly asked him to come, but you’d dropped enough hints to hope he’d show up. Deep down, you understood if he couldn’t make it, but the thought of him not being there still left a pang of sadness.

Either way, he’d be picking you up shortly after the game ended. You’d agreed to spend the weekend with some of his bandmates and their girlfriends. You recognized them from glimpses in the hallways and the gigs you’d attended, but meaningful interactions with them had been rare. You were aware of the reputation you’d unintentionally acquired in that social circle but didn’t let it bother you.

You hadn’t dated much in life. In fact, Elijah was the only person you’d ever been involved with—both emotionally and physically. While that choice sometimes stirred whispers or the occasional mean-spirited comment, it was clear that most people didn’t care, if anything, they just found it curious.

“How was last night?” your best friend asked, a knowing smirk on her face. Judging by your expression, she already suspected the answer.

“It was… great,” you admitted, the butterflies in your stomach still fluttering from the memory. Your hands felt clammy, and your nervous cheeks were impossible to hide.

“Was sex with Elijah really that good?” There was a teasing edge in her tone, but you couldn’t tell if it was genuine or sarcastic. You elbowed her, though the heat in your face only deepened.

“Did he take charge? Or was all the work left to you?” she continued, her grin widening. You rolled your eyes, but her playful jab stayed in your head longer than you’d care to admit.

Hiding your face in your hands, you realized she just wanted to embarrass you. Asking her to lower her voice, she laughed and agreed, though it was clear she expected more details. It was your first time with Eli, and you’d been nervous—something entirely unusual for you from her perspective. Naturally, she wanted to know everything.

You decided to keep most of it to yourself, knowing she’d get the picture. You settled on something simple: “He’s not shy, but in a good way. He’s... observant, and he made good use of that. He’s fine,” you said, biting your lip to contain a smile. But the memory of him holding you, the way his hands moved so assuredly, and the soft sighs and muffled moans you’d shared—it all came flooding back, making your heart crazy. You didn’t know how, but it had been intimate and irresistibly sexy, leaving you on the brink of tears from the overwhelming connection. You couldn’t wait to be with him again.

She nodded knowingly, her expression softening at your obvious happiness. “It’s nice that you have him. I’m glad for you. He seems like a great guy.”

Her words made you smile, but they also left you feeling a little unsettled. Eli was your complete opposite in so many ways. You had no doubts that he liked you, but the thought of him realizing how easily he could find someone better lingered in your mind.

You were popular, but it was something that had happened by accident rather than design. You didn’t care about it much, though you appreciated the “good girl” image that came with it. Eli, on the other hand, had a laid-back, effortlessly cool demeanor. He wasn’t concerned with appearances and didn’t seem to care about what others thought. Maybe that was something you needed to learn from him.

Even your interests didn’t align much, but so far, things had been going well.

Lost in your thoughts, your friend shook your shoulders, snapping you back to reality. She turned you toward the crowd, and her grin widened when she saw your face light up. There he was—his messy curls catching the light.

“Damn, you really got Hewson to come to a college game,” she teased.

You couldn’t help but laugh nervously. It wasn’t exactly his scene. The echoing cheers of the players and the squeals of the cheerleaders were likely grating to him, but there he was, leaning casually in the back corner. You tried not to let your nerves spiral as you wondered how he felt about all this, about you.

Before you could respond, you spotted him in the distance. Your heart skipped a beat. He looked serious, like he’d rather be anywhere else, and for a moment, doubt crept in. But then his eyes found yours. His expression softened, his hands in his jacket pockets, and his lips curled into a small smile.

You waved enthusiastically, and to your relief, he lit up, waving back just as excitedly. He brushed his hair back, standing still in that secluded spot, and blew you a kiss. A few people nearby noticed, and his cheeks turned pink, but he didn’t seem to care. Your Eli was there.

You threw him a kiss in return, and with his typical playful flair, he pretended to catch it, tucking it into his pocket. It was such a simple, teasing gesture, yet it made your heart swell. He might not love the setting, but he was there for you.

As you turned back to your position on the court, you couldn’t help but steal another glance at him. He looked proud, as though being there and seeing you so happy made everything worth it.

The performance began, and you gave it your all—the dances, the spins, the choreography. A small part of you felt self-conscious, knowing he was watching. While you were sure he wouldn’t judge you, this wasn’t his thing, and you worried about what he thought.

But when your eyes found his again, there was no doubt. It was you. He was there because of you. And that was all that mattered.

The game ended, and as you and the girls announced the final score, thanking everyone for coming, your focus was already elsewhere. You didn’t even register who was speaking to you as you made your way toward Eli. His smile didn’t falter, and he opened his arms wide, waiting for you.

Instinctively, you ran into him, throwing your arms around his neck. He caught you with ease, lifting you slightly off the ground as his arms tightened around you. Without hesitation, he adjusted your skirt, his hand lingering protectively to keep it in place. You had noticed this habit of his before, and though you found it sweet, you hadn’t told him yet that you always wore shorts underneath. You were sure he knew, but the gesture was heartwarming.

You buried your face in his hair, letting the softness of his curls surround you. He nuzzled into your neck in return, inhaling deeply as if to draw comfort from your scent. For a moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, while the noise and chaos of the game faded into the background.

When your feet touched the ground again, you lingered there, gazing at one another in a rare moment of silence. The world around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the warmth in his caramel eyes and the soft curve of his lips.

You took a small step further, closing the distance between you, and kissed him. It wasn’t tentative—it was the kind of kiss that spoke volumes, a mixture of longing and familiarity. You could taste the faint trace of gum on his tongue, a detail you’d remember fondly later. His hands trailed over your sides, light and deliberate, grounding you in the moment. He felt like calm, like home, and you melted into him, despite the murmurs and stares from the crowd.

The kiss ended quickly but left a deep impression. His hands stayed firmly on your waist, keeping you close, while your gaze was on his lips, too shy to meet his eyes just yet. He broke the silence with a soft kiss to your cheek, then your forehead, dotting your skin with gentle pecks that made you nervous. He always did this, and every time, it made you fall for him all over again.

“Sorry for being late,” he said, his voice low and apologetic. “Josh needed the car.” He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders in one smooth motion, pausing to kiss the top of your head. “Keep it—you look cold.”

You clutched the jacket tightly, enveloped by his warmth and the faint smell of him in the fabric. “I don’t mind,” you replied, light and genuine. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, intertwining your fingers. “I know this isn’t your favorite place, so it means a lot to me that you came tonight.”

Eli didn’t respond right away, his mind swirling with thoughts about the people around him, whom he saw as unremarkable, living to meet expectations rather than exploring life’s possibilities. It was an opinion he had once extended to you, long before he became enamored with the way you danced, your laugh ringing through the halls, and your quiet determination to pursue what you loved. Now, he saw you differently. You weren’t just going through the motions—you genuinely enjoyed being there, with your friends and your passions.

Such a realization had led him to fill your locker with letters—awkward yet heartfelt, each building the bridge to this very moment.

He rubbed his thumb over your palm, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. “I’ll be here as many times as necessary,” he murmured. “I like to see you happy.”

His words made your goofy smile return full force. He placed a hand gently on the small of your back, guiding you toward his car.

Eli’s ears were still flushed as he opened the door for you, and you couldn’t help but wish for more of that.

...

He sifted through his belongings, handpicking a few tapes and placing them on your lap. "Pick one," he said, anticipation lacing his voice.

You scanned the options before spotting a familiar purple cover. "Oh my God, it's Kate Bush!" you exclaimed, grinning ear to ear. It was surreal. Even as he kept his eyes on the road, his presence filled the small, borrowed car.

"Josh mentioned you were a fan," he said casually.

"And you went and got it for me?" you asked eagerly, pressing play without hesitation.

He nodded, watching your smile grow with every note.

Before he could say anything, you squealed and leaned over to kiss his cheek quickly, careful to avoid causing any accidents. Feeling at ease with him, you mimicked Kate’s vocals, exaggerating your facial expressions to match the drama of her delivery. He chuckled, thankful to Josh for tipping him off about the tape.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it, lil' one," he murmured, his voice warm. Your enthusiasm for the lyrics matched his quiet contentment in seeing you well.

He didn’t know the words or the instrumentation but encouraged you to keep going, like your number-one fan.

"Did you know David Gilmour kind of discovered Kate Bush?" you asked between breaths.

"I’ve heard that somewhere," he replied, prompting you to share more. He liked Pink Floyd, you knew that.

"It’s like we’re all interconnected, isn’t it?" you mused, glancing at him solemnly before turning back to the road, tapping the melody out with your fingers. "I kind of like the thought of it."

"Yeah, it’s a nice thought," he agreed, his chest filling with a quiet warmth. Not ready to let the conversation fade, he added, "So, have you been checking out any of the bands I like?"

The world seemed to slow down for a moment. You noticed the softness in Eli’s features, a rare, relaxed smile that only appeared when he was with you. In other settings—classes, the cafeteria, gigs—he maintained his usual unbothered demeanor, some cool smiles yet nothing more, which you found charming, but this version of him was your favorite.

He placed his large hand gently on your thigh, not moving it but bringing you a sense of comfort. You fingered the rings and felt the more prominent veins on his skin. Smiling, you placed your hand over his, threading your fingers through his long ones. Even brief touches like this filled you with quiet joy.

"I have," you admitted, feeling a little shy. "I wanted to hear what you liked, and I found one I really enjoyed."

His eyes widened in disbelief, and for a moment, you feared he might crash the car. But Eli, ever grounded, kept things steady. "No way! You've reached Blackstar?"

The thing was, you already knew Bowie, of course, but Eli saw him through a unique lens. He had favorite albums and endless commentary about every track. After spending hours with you the night before, he’d gone home, obsessed with crafting a perfect playlist to introduce you to his idol. He never imagined you’d actually listen.

"I did," you confirmed, suppressing a laugh at his attempt to maintain his unbothered facade, though it failed to hide the goofy smile creeping onto his face.

You grinned and began to sing, “Just like that bluebird, oh, I’ll be free…” pretending to hold a microphone.

He smiled as if he’d just won the lottery. “Just like that bluebird, oh, I’ll be free. Ain’t that just like me…” he sang back, pouring affection into every note.

Bowie’s words felt like home, like the perfect bridge between you. Eli never spared feelings when it came to sharing his passions, not like that, not for any special one, even when he initially thought your differences might be too vast. He was starting to see the beauty in complementing perspectives.

You loved Bowie, though not quite as much as he did. And, much like him with Kate Bush, you were learning to appreciate the depth of the connection through each other’s eyes.

...

You were asleep, your hand resting on Eli's arm as he drove down the empty highway. He glanced at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watched you sleep peacefully.

Suddenly, as if your mind had been waiting for it, you jolted awake, gasping for air and clutching your chest. Your body trembled as you struggled to catch your breath.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Eli said, his tone soothing as he reached over, gently rubbing your back. "Just take deep breaths with me, huh?"

You nodded, your eyes wide with fear. "I'm sorry," you whispered, guilt heavy in your voice.

"Don't be sorry," Elijah said firmly, his gaze unwavering. "You're not bothering me. I just want to make sure you're fine, babe. Are you good?"

Leaning back against the seat, you inhaled deeply, trying to calm yourself. "It's just...a nightmare. I get them sometimes, and they're always hard to shake off."

"I see," Elijah murmured. "I've been there with you before, remember?" His sweet smile softened his words as he squeezed your hand. And it was true-it wasn't the first time, and you didn't need to feel ashamed. "We'll get through this, okay?"

Pulling the car to the side of the road, he opened the windows and doors to let in the crisp, early morning air. You sat quietly, watching as the sky began to shift, the first rays of dawn painting the horizon with soft light.

"It's so nice, quite beautiful," you murmured, feeling an odd sense of peace settling over you. Small but present, a reminder that he didn’t see you as a problem to be dealt with.

Eli nodded. "Yeah, it is. Like you, when you're comfortable like this," he added, immediately regretting his words, fearing they might sound wrong.

You smiled warmly, your face heating at his unintended confession, making Eli relax. "Thank you."

He reached into the backseat and grabbed a comforter, draping it over you with care. He made sure you were snug and warm, his movements gentle as he tucked you in.

Stopping briefly, he stood silently by the car, watching you shift restlessly under the duvet. Your eyes stayed locked on him, steady and observant. Though your breathing had calmed, you didn't seem ready to sleep again.

"Do you want me to stay here until you sleep?" His voice carried a mix of awkwardness and worry.

"No," you said after a pause, your gaze lingering on his hands gripping the steering wheel and the way his lips were reddened from nervous biting. Your breath hitched faintly, betraying your unease. "Actually, we could stay here for a while." You loosened the duvet, the warmth of the moment overtaking your earlier chill.

He arched a brow, his features shadowed in the dim light. "Okay, but you feel good, right?”

"Yeah, just can't sleep," you admitted, your hand brushing over his shoulder and trailing to the back of his neck, seeking the comfort of his warmth. "Come closer. I want to feel you." You tugged him toward you, your words low and certain.

And Eli had that moment of realization, noticing how different you were from what others perceived, from the image they had built of you. He loved that—that this raw, genuine side of you was something only he had access to.

Eli hesitated for a second before leaning in, his nose brushing against your cheek. His lips met yours, soft and hesitant at first, contrasting with the sudden urgency in your touch. He melted into the seat, his hand naturally finding your waist as the kiss deepened.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven. The darkness obscured his face, but you could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came.

"I like how you taste," you whispered, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. The warmth of his breath brushed your skin as you trailed kisses from his lips to his nose, playfully licking his parted mouth along the way.

Your laughter filled the car when you noticed how flustered he had become. You relished the effect you had on him, thinking about how you might use it to your advantage in the future.

Before Eli could lean in for another kiss, his usual lovesick expression plastered on his face, you leaned closer, your voice dropping to a mischievous whisper.

"I need a favor, if you don't mind.”

...

You stopped in a dark, desolate spot, your hand crazy with sweat as nerves took hold. Elijah could tell you were uneasy about being out in the middle of nowhere.

"El, I don’t want to be alone," you murmured, your voice drowsy but trembling with it all.

He didn’t question it, just as he didn’t even consider leaving you behind. Truthfully, he wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of braving the rickety gas station alone either, even if it was just to relieve himself.

He nodded, his expression steady, trying to ease the tension in your own. The worry was etched across your face, and Elijah knew you tended to spiral into pessimistic thoughts in situations like this. He couldn’t begin to guess the scenarios playing out in your mind, but he was determined to dispel them.

"Look," he said quickly, color rushing to his cheeks and necks, "I’ll step outside, stay by the car, and just use the tree right here. I won’t go far, I won’t leave your sight, and I’ll shut the door so you’ll still feel safe. Just, uh… don’t look, y’know? That’d be awkward."

You nodded, avoiding his gaze as your hands fumbled for the radio, turning up the volume to drown out any sound from outside. It was a flimsy attempt to preserve the boundary of intimacy, even for something as brief and mundane as this. Still, you couldn’t deny his plan made sense, even if it left you feeling slightly on edge.

—

Part 2 will be posted soon! Promise!