#my whole daily routine has been ruined

[poorlittlevampire]

okay bye

[holylulusworld]

Gun for hire (1)

Summary: You’re his next target. Nothing else. Right?

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader

Warnings: hiring a killer, Lloyd being Lloyd, being followed, sunshine reader

Gun for hire (Prologue)

Gun for hire masterlist

Lloyd curses himself once again.

He still didn’t get his money. His newest client is an annoying piece of shit. And on top of the pile of shit, this assignment turned into, the exotic beard wax he wanted to order was sold out.

In other words. Lloyd Hansen is fucking livid. 

This doesn’t keep him from following his latest target around town.

So far you went to work, bought a muffin on your way to the library, and talked to the librarian for half an hour.

Lloyd yawns, bored beyond belief. He never followed such a boring person. Most of the people he killed were criminals, or at least interesting. You’re just…too nice.

You made it your mission to visit the elderly librarian every day after work to make sure she gets her extra portion of sugar – hence the muffin you bought. Plus, you try to make her feel needed by asking questions about books you already read.

He’s close to calling it a day when a man walks past you and the librarian. The man bumps into your side and has the guts to yell at you.

Lloyd pokes his head around the shelf he is hiding behind to watch you smile at the man. He can’t believe that you smile at a man yelling at you not moments ago.

“Crazy,” he concludes but decides to watch you for a little longer. Assignment or not, he’s got nothing better to do today.

“Sir,” you carefully pat the man’s arm while you speak to him in a low, but soft tone. “Your day must have been hard.” You batt your eyelashes, and smile again. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been so rude, right?” 

The man suddenly smiles and apologizes repeatedly. The man’s whole demeanor changed so suddenly Lloyd could not believe his eyes.

“Drugs maybe…or a hidden gun?” Lloyd wonders. No man ever changed their opinion so fast without being under the influence of drugs, or in danger. “That woman must be the devil in disguise or something. She must be more dangerous than I first thought.”

“Come on, do something more exciting,” Lloyd grunts as your daily routine drives him up the walls. He looks at his notes again and sighs deeply. 

He rereads his notes and tries to find new information.

“Work. Buying something sweet for Grace, the elderly librarian. Talking to said librarian for half an hour. Going home. Watching TV.”

This is not how imagined his Friday night would look like. He wanted to spend it at his favorite strip club, a pretty girl’s mouth wrapped around his dick.

“She’s so…” he rubs his tired eyes, “boring. I can’t believe someone wants to kill her.” Lloyd ignores the kink in his neck and his burning eyes, or the fact that he’s watching you giggle at something your elderly neighbor said. “I hate her so much.” 

He could just end your life or call it a day, but he keeps on watching you smile and giggle. “She’s a fucking ray of sunshine. What the fuck!”

Lloyd shakes his head. Today someone spilled coffee all over your pretty sundress. Your boss yelled at you. And you lost your phone.

Nothing seems to ruin your mood. You are still laughing and joking with your neighbor.

“I should just go over there and kill them both. Less headache for me – a house and a car for my client,” Lloyd is tempted to get his gun and silencer out to shoot you and your neighbor. “Maybe later. I need to unlock her phone first…”

Lloyd rolls his eyes while scrolling through your phone. There are mostly pictures of bees, flowers, and cake on your phone. No interesting or naughty stuff. 

“This woman can’t be real. She buys sweets for the librarian; cooks soup for her sick neighbor and has a fucking insect hotel on her veranda. She’s crazy…this must be it.” 

He nods to himself. “I need to find out more about her. Maybe some files are password-protected. I know she’s hiding shit from me.”

“Boss, it’s two weeks,” one of Lloyd’s men dares to say. “He didn’t pay.” The man clears his throat. “The woman is still alive too. What is your plan?”

“I need to find out more about her,” Lloyd grunts. He doesn’t need one of his bootlickers to sniff around and find out Lloyd is following you because he’s fascinated and a little grossed out by your bubbly personality.

Your friendliness is hard to stomach, and he wants to find at least one thing you try to hide before he kills you.

“Boss, he didn’t pay,” the man insists. “We don’t work for free. That’s rule number—” A gunshot ends the man’s life. 

“Rule number four is to never doubt me and my decisions,” Lloyd sneers at the dead man on the ground. He snaps his fingers at one of the others. “Clean this up. I got a job to do.”

“Boss…” the man nods and goes to work.

“And bring me her boyfriend. He broke our contract and didn’t pay me a single buck. I want to know why he believes he can fuck with Lloyd fucking Hansen.”

“What are you doing at my house?” You take a step back. A stranger is standing in your living room, a gun with a silencer aimed at your head. “Oh…Tommie.” You shake your head and sigh. “He’s such an unhappy man.”

Lloyd cocks a brow at your reaction. You don’t scream or beg. Instead, you are concerned about your ex-boyfriend.

“He doesn’t have the money to pay me back for the house and car,” you conclude and nod to yourself. “But he has the money to pay you?”

You take a step toward Lloyd, taking him by surprise. He backpaddles and aims his gun back at you.

“You don’t look like a guy he found on the street and paid him twenty bucks. You look like a…” You tilt your head to look the man in front of you up and down, “professional.”

“Sorry, but you got to go…” He murmurs, wondering a little about his words. It’s the first time he said more to a target than hello and goodbye.

“Uh-okay,” you wring your hands. “I just ordered takeout. Can I eat it before you kill me?” You cock a brow. “You know, the whole last meal thing and stuff. I got dessert too. Please don’t let me die hungry.”

Lloyd is stunned. No target ever accepted their fate without fighting back. Most of them at least begged and pleaded or offered more money.

“You can have some dessert too,” you softly say. “I guess in your line of business you don’t often get invited.” You giggle. “You know, because you kill all of your clients.”

“I don’t kill my clients,” he sighs. “Fine, have your last meal. You are giving me a fucking headache, sunshine.”

“Aw, that’s a cute nickname,” you point out. “Do you call your girlfriend that too?” You ask while walking past Lloyd. “I’m going to eat now. Please don’t shoot me before I finish my meal.”

“Just shut up,” he grunts and follows you inside the kitchen. “Why are you not screaming or throwing a tantrum?”

You shrug. “We all must die one day. Right?” Watching Lloyd, you smile. “Please don’t shoot me in the face. Someone must identify me, and I don’t want them to see me like that.”

“You always think about others first.” 

He watches you prepare two plates of food. You watch him watching you. He cocks a brow, believing you will try to trick him. “It’s not poisoned. I’ll eat it too.”

“Do you want to sort things out first?”

“I got everything sorted out,” you smile. “I’m just worried about my neighbor and the stray cat I feed. They are both old and need help.”

Lloyd shakes his head. “You must be crazy thinking about others while a stranger threatens to kill you.”

“I thought you wanted to kill me, not just threaten me,” you round the counter to place a plate close to him. “I didn’t take you for someone making empty promises.” You run your fingertips over the hand holding the gun and smile. “Right. Mr.…?”

“Lloyd,” he says and drops his eyes to your finger running over his hand. “Are you flirting with me?”

You look him straight in the eyes and smile. “Why would I flirt with my executioner?”

Gun for hire (2)

Tags in reblog.

[stqrgirlie0]

⋆✮theodore nott-pt 4✮⋆

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

you were running out of concealer, and it was showing. the purplish blue bruise less inconspicuous than the day before. theo had no chill when it came to hickeys- even though you guys weren’t official yet, he saw no problem in marking you his. one could say it just happens in the moment, and honestly why would anyone blame him- especially when he had you pressed up against the wall, head tilted back, mouth parted open, eyes closed and your neck and collarbone exposed. he just can't help himself.

it was becoming a daily routine, everyday right after last period you'd walk past the same empty classroom and everyday you'd hear someone whisper your name from behind the door. not very long after you'd be unbuttoning theo's shirt while he picked you up and sat you onto a desk. your fingers would tangle between theo's fluffy curls while his lips littered kisses and hickeys. soft pants from the both of you filled the air, and your were more than glad that theo did his little magic and muffled the room's noise to the outside. the sound of theo ripping your tights made you gasp out loud as you gave theo a light smack on his shoulder, while he muttered a 'i'll buy you new ones.’ soft kisses planted into your inner thighs and as soon as he was on his knees, he got down to business- ate you out like he didn't have breakfast in the morning. euphoric- that's how you felt every single time this man was on his knees, stars were starting to form in your vision. squeezing your eyes shut, fingers gripping his hair and the edge of the desk, you reached your climax and theo was all over you again, fervent kisses with teeth clashing and soft giggles in between.

obviously you guys hadn't been caught yet, but even if you did, i doubt that it would stop the two of you. this whole thing between you and theo hadn't been out in the open yet, so every moment between you two in front of the group was seen as an interaction between two "friends". it wasn't the best thing however it wasn't the worst. the thrill of getting caught and no one knowing egged on both of your antics, but not being able to grab theo and kiss him in front of the girls that cannot keep their eyes off of him, took a lot off self control. then again having this little secret meant that no one could have a problem with it- what they didn't know couldn't hurt them right?

unsettling thoughts would cross your mind so frequently, that you found yourself asking the question 'what are we?’. not dating but talking, talking but not progressing- what the hell was going on. you wanted it to work out you really did, so why didn't he just ask you out? and just like that your wish was granted- be careful what you wish for tho.. it was romantic you'll admit it- the candle, the flowers, the chocolates, the black lake glistening in the moonlight and the warm breezy air blowing your hair. it was literally a scene out of a romcom and you felt like you would literally MELT for the man right then and there. everything was perfect- so why was there still this iffy feeling? i'll tell you why- despite all of this lovey dovey, will-you-be-my-girlfriend stuff, our man Mr Theodore Nott asked to STILL keep it a secret. now why on gods green earth would he ask that? obviously you wouldn’t let this ruin you mood, you were on cloud nine girl!! but that bridge was fast approaching, and you were gon have to cross it at some point.

months pass by, and you've both still kept it a secret, but boy has it taken a toll on your side. keeping secrets, lying, it's never been your thing and you hate doing it to the people you love and care about. was it all worth it, was it worth the lack of energy and excitement? your secret link ups with theo got more frequent over time obviously- and maybe it was just because your friends just didn't hang out with you because you'd always run off, to him, for him. your lack of energy doesn't go unnoticed, and obviously it's brought up. just not in the nicest way. you're accused of not putting any effort into the relationship, and this sets you off-you see literal red.

‘i don’t know what you’re talking about theo.’ you sigh, standing up.

‘i’m talking about the 0 effort you put into our relationship,’ he says pacing across his dorm room and rubbing his temple. ‘every time we get time alone it’s like as if you can’t wait to fucking go back to your friends or some shit, what the fuck is going on.’

‘what’s going on? what’s going on?’ you seethe, walking right up to him. ‘i’ll tell you what’s going on. it’s that i can’t take this fucking secret thing further. there i said it, i CANT do it.‘ you wave your hands up in surrender.

‘so what, that’s it?’

‘i don’t know, do you want it like that? theo we can’t even talk until we’re behind closed doors, it’s like we’re trapped. you say i put no energy and effort into this, but maybe it’s because i use it all up lying and making excuses for us. it’s not working out..’

the argument only ended with tears and slammed doors. nights that you used to smoke with theo on, turned into nights you sat by yourself, leaning your head against the window, accompanied by only your thoughts. every day going to lessons and acting normal was truly a test, especially when theo would still catch you with his longing eyes across the room. it was so hard but you couldn’t give up, you owed yourself at least that much. your heart yearned for the boy, for the way he would brush your hair out of your face, for the way he would look at you- like you were the prettiest girl in the world, for the way he’d play with your hands every time you slept. it was getting harder and harder by the day, and theo wasn’t finding it any easier. he also longed for how your fingers would play with his hair, for how your nails would scratch down his back. so it wasn’t long before the both of you snapped, and there you guys were making out in the corner of the empty corridor. your top two buttons undone and theo’s hands firmly planted at the sides of your waist, lifting your shirt up a bit as his fingers pressed into your skin. you felt his lips slowly travelling to the middle of your neck, your head leaning back against the wall to allow him as much skin as you could. his lips trailed back up again, finding your jawline as he pressed kisses along. the scene caused the majority of the students walking by, to avert their eyes and fasten their pace down the corridor.

i think it’s pretty much official now.

#i think pt 4’s come to a natural ending.. right.. #id like to confirm that there will not be a pt 5 xoxo #because i genuinely would not know what to write, but hopefully you guys enjoyed the (very unplanned) series♡ #lots of love xoxo

taglist: @iamgayforyourmom1510 @lovelyygirl8

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Hey! I’ve been in the arcana fandom for a while- well in and out due to it dying down but now I’m back! I wanted to say you’ve been one of the main blogs that has reanimated my joy for this great game and story! <3

You’re totally radical and keep up the fantastic work. You’re doing amazing!

For a mini ask (hope you’re doing well!)

HC for the main 6 and maybe with a MC that wears red lipstick and kisses them, wanting to leave noticeable marks on them?

Like how would they feel about having their partners love shown on their cheek/neck/collar?

Anyways, thank you so much again!

Much love- AuntVamp!

The Arcana Mini-HCs: M6 with lipstick prints

~ hi AuntVamp! it's so nice meet you, and ohmygoodness, that's such high praise! thank you so much ^.^ and much love back to you, I hope you like these! :D ~

Julian: doesn't realize it's there until someone points it out to him, wears it for the rest of the day like a badge of pride and refuses to wash it off until you promise to give him a whole set of them next time

Asra: will happily wear one on their cheek, gets so inspired by it that they buy you lipstick in all the shades of the rainbow so you can decorate their face properly. adds more glitter than is advisable

Nadia: you can leave them on her collar, where she can hide it. unless of course her family is around, in which case she's inviting you to leave them all over her neck and shoulders so she can flaunt them

Muriel: this happened on accident once when you kissed his cheek before he went out. you could hear the shriek from the other side of the forest when he caught his reflection in a puddle. never again

Portia: sure, but for every lip print you leave on her she gets to leave one on you. this will turn into a fluffy flurry of giggles and smooches that will cause anyone else present to vomit. except Julian, who melts

Lucio: worried at first that you'd ruin his makeup. takes a peek in the mirror and decides it's actually a nice addition, and now demands his daily kiss as the final step of his makeup routine. the location changes

[gabessquishytum]

So Hob is pretty lonely, but doesnt have time for a real relationship, so he ends up going to a gay strip club and paying one of the workers to just sit and flirt with him. Nothing sexy, just has a drink with them and the two of them act like theyre on a real date. Yeah, desperate single guy behavior, but no one knows about the club, and the strippers aren't going to judge him.

One night there's a new guy and Hob bothers him for the whole routine. But come to find out, he doesn't really understand the whole preformance part of his job, and is actually pretty Open with Hob. His parents kicked him out for being gay. (First son has no ability to have kids, third son left the family, so Dream was their only shot at passing down the family name and him being gay ruined it) he's saving up as a stripper to eventually go back to school. And while he knows its not for everyone, he doesnt mind the sex work part of his work, so it becomrd basically a waiter job.

He becomes one of Dream's regulars until one night Dream says "this is going to be crazy, but if you ever want to stop paying me, I'd be happy to do all of this for free" and Hob thinks Dream is saying he doesnt have to tip, so he insists he's fine paying and Dream says "well if its so important to compinsate me for my time, buy me dinner?"

And it hits Hob all at once that "oh my god, my favorite stripper is in love with me!"

Askskfjgjh yes!!! Hob eventually talks to his friend Jo about the whole situation and she’s like, “you absolute loser, your favourite stripper isn’t in love with you! that doesn’t happen outside of stupid pornos.” But Hob insists he’s getting The Vibe and takes her to the club to observe.

Half an hour into Dream and Hob’s date Jo is like, “oh my god you are the luckiest most undeserving bastard on earth, this stripper is in love with you!”

And so Hob, most average Just Some Guy who ever lived, becomes sugar daddy/boyfriend to Dream, the prettiest man that anyone has ever seen. Dream quits his stripping job, he doesn’t want to show his body to others now he has Hob, and moves to bartending instead. That way he still has a job, but because Hob is providing for most of his daily living expenses, he also gets to go back to school!

When Dream’s parents come crawling back and ask him to come home (it’s finally occurred to them that if they carry on like they have been, all their kids are going to fuck off) and he’s like “no thank you, i’m quite happy with my boyfriend. when we get married i intend to take his name btw <3”

And that’s the story of how Hob married his favourite stripper. Dream finishes school and ends up with an amazing job and a pay check that makes him basically Hob’s sugar daddy. And they have raunchy sex twice every day, go to strip clubs together and leave thousands of $$$ in tips… and every day Hob reminds himself that he is the luckiest most undeserving bastard on earth <3

[simplyholl]

Across the Multiverse Pt. 1 [Loki x F. Reader]

*This is almost finished, so I will try to post an update at least once a week. I do have a toddler, so no promises. All the hugs to @lokisgoodgirl for reading this and holding my hand through the whole thing. You’re the best!

Summary: Y/N and Loki’s relationship takes an unexpected turn after one of Stark’s parties. When they are sent on a mission to find their multiversal selves, will they realize they should be together? 

Pairing: Avenger Loki x F. Avenger Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY. Incorrect use of multiverse travel. 

Your best friend Loki always came to your room after he sent his latest conquest packing. He had an endless line of women who couldn’t wait to be the newest notch on his bed post. You had never seen the same woman twice, and he made them leave right after. Then it was the same routine with you. He would make his way next door to your room where you would watch a movie, have snacks, and cuddle.

When you joined the Avengers, you had to do a lot of interviews together. Often paired while training, you two had just clicked. Your friendship had started by giving each other book recommendations, reading together, and eating breakfast after training.  Then came the interview. The one that shot you into best friend status, was one you would never forget. The interviewer incessantly berated Loki for the attack on New York, how some people still viewed him as a villain, and how could we believe he had changed. This was all old news. Loki had been with the team for a while. He had more than proven himself. You could tell the endless questioning was getting to him.

So, you spoke up. “How dare you question his loyalty to us. He has defeated countless enemies to protect this world. He was mind controlled during the attack on New York, so that wasn’t his fault. I trust Loki more than anyone on this team. I’m sure he gets tired of saving people like you, who doubt him daily. But he does it anyway, because he is a great guy.” Loki placed his hand on your thigh and gave you a thankful smile. Ever since that day, Loki got closer to you. He opened up more. He told you about his mother, his childhood being in Thor’s shadow, and his Jotun heritage. He knew you saw right through his cold façade. He trusted you.

“What are you thinking about?” Loki interrupted my wondering mind. I smile lazily at him as I snuggle into his chest. “Just thinking about our friendship.” “I am honored to have you as a friend, Y/N.” Yeah FRIEND, I almost laugh out loud. It’s not that I’m jealous of his harem or anything. I’ve just thought about what would happen if we crossed that line. I have no doubt that it would be mind blowing. He wouldn’t have all these women trying to jump him, if he wasn’t great in bed. My room is also beside his, so I hear everything. It’s kind of sad. I’m stuck in my room with my vibrator, forever single. While he is getting laid every weekend.

Maybe it’s not even him, I’m just horny since it’s been a while right? But he has those long, curly, raven locks that I would love to run my fingers through. The body of a literal god, and oh stop thinking like that! He will never take me to bed. If he did, he would treat me like those other women. He would toss me out on my ass after rendering me speechless. One night of great sex isn’t worth ruining what we have.

~The Next Weekend~

The music is booming over the speakers as I make my way to the bar. If Tony’s parties are good for anything, it’s free alcohol. I glance across the room searching for Loki. Four women surround him. One on each of his arms, the other two trying to get as close as possible. He is putting on a show for them, fireworks dancing in his hands. He catches me staring and winks at me. I turn around smoothing my dress. That’s it! I am not going back to my room alone tonight. I take a shot hoping it will soothe my nerves. I’ve never had a one-night stand before. It’s been too long since I was in a relationship.

I take a deep breath. I can do this. “You look stunning tonight.” Bucky grins checking me out. “Thank you. Hey, do you wanna dance with me?” “Sure thing, doll.” He grabs my hand leading me to the dance floor. A slow song comes on, he pulls my body close to his. His hands rest on my hips, the coolness of his metal arm makes a chill run over me. I rest my head on his broad chest. “Hey Y/N, there’s nothing going on between you and Loki is there?” I laugh at the ridiculous insinuation. “No. Why?” “Because he is looking at me like he is going to kill me.” I glance over at Loki to confirm. Sure enough, he looks really pissed off. “I’m not sure what that’s all about. But I do know it has nothing to do with me. Don’t worry about it.”

The next song plays and I back it up on Bucky in time with the fast beat. I gyrate my hips while his hands roam all over my body. When I turn around Bucky’s lips find mine. His tongue explores my mouth as I pull him closer. I am ready to take him back to my room when I feel a large hand on my shoulder. “Y/N, I need to speak with you.” Loki’s eyes are filled with rage as he takes in the scene before him. “I’m a little busy right now, Lo, can’t it wait?”  

I’m pleading with my eyes signaling that I was trying to get busy with Bucky. Surely, he knows where this was going, that it has been so long for me. He jerks my hand off Bucky, practically dragging me away. “No, it is an urgent matter.” I look back at Bucky and mouth sorry. “What is so important? I was about to get dicked down for the first time in forever by a SUPER SOLDIER, Loki! A super soldier.” I whine. “Just imagine what he can do with that metal hand.” My rant is cut short when Loki slams me against a wall. I peek around his shoulder to find we are in his room. “Loki, what are you doing?” He breathes deeply, eyes conflicted.

“Do you really think he could fuck you better than I could, Y/N?” My heart stops for a second while I realize what he said. “I – um, what?” I stutter, my voice barely recognizable. Loki pushes my hair away from my neck. He places a trail of kisses from my collar bone to my jaw. I’m not sure if I’m breathing. He stops his assault, looking into my eyes intently. “I said do you think he could fuck you better than I could? A super soldier? That is what you desire, love? I am a god. He wouldn’t be able to make you come. I would leave you a whimpering mess, and you would still beg for more.”

He places more kisses to my jawline. “Let me worship you, darling.” He doesn’t have to ask me twice. I nod my approval. “Before we begin, I have two rules you must follow. Number one: do not fall in love. This is the most important of the two. I will never be in love with you, and I do not wish to hurt you. Rule number two: This will only happen this once. I never take Midgardian women to my bed more than that. You lot are too fragile with your feelings. You get attached too easily. The last thing I need is an obsessed woman following after me like a lost dog.” He looks intently into my eyes gauging my reaction.

“I will do whatever you want, Loki. Just please touch me.” His smile turns wolfish as he grabs my face. His lips crashing into mine. When we part, he lifts my dress up. I watch as he peppers kisses on my thighs. He places a kiss to the front of my soaking panties before sliding them down my knees. He tosses them over his shoulder. I cry out in surprise as he lifts me up against the wall. He laughs wickedly as he bunches my dress around my waist.

“I lie awake at night imagining this, Y/N. Wondering how you would taste, what sounds you would make as I brought you pleasure.” “Loki, please?” I beg him gripping his hair trying to pull him closer. He wastes no time. He licks a stripe up my center before suckling my clit. His name a prayer on my lips. I pull on his silky curls as he moans against me. “Tastes so good.” He devours me while pleasure hums low in my stomach. “More, Loki.” He pushes me harder against the wall. I hold onto those glorious, muscled arms. He eats me like a man starved, and I am more than willing to be his feast. “Loki, I’m c... oh God, Loki!” I come down from my high. He places a gentle kiss to my thigh as he sets me down. My legs are so wobbly. I don’t think I can stand on my own. I reach for him to support myself. But he swiftly picks me up placing me on his bed.

He waves his hand and my dress disappears along with his clothes. I can’t help but stare at him. I don’t have long to take in his beauty before he climbs on top of me. He sinks into me completely claiming me. With his moaning against my neck and experienced fingers circling my clit, it doesn’t take long before I am coming undone again. Loki follows close behind. He lays his head on his silky forest green pillows smiling at me.

I don’t think I can handle my best friend throwing me out of his room. So, I stand up covering myself with my hands. I walk over to my clothes long forgotten in the floor. Loki sits up as I start putting my now wrinkled dress back on. “Y/N, what are you doing?” “I was going to go back to my room to shower and give you some space. I know you don’t like women staying over.” His face holds a look of concern while he considers my words.

“I have a bath drawn for you if you wish to stay.” He takes my hand leading me to his bathroom. I step into the warm bath, getting used to the water. Loki climbs in as well. “I thought you said this bath was for me?” I tease.  “I could not leave a beautiful lady to clean herself after I have so thoroughly ruined her.” He smiles while lathering soap on the soft cloth. He pulls me closer starting to wash my arms. When he gets to my breasts, he ditches the cloth using his hands to apply the soap. I moan as he pinches my nipples.

He continues massaging me, working his way lower. I squeak in surprise as he slips one long finger inside me, then another. He laughs mischievously. I lay my head on his porcelain shoulder grasping onto him as I come undone for the third time. When I can think clearly, my eyes find his. “I thought you said we were only going to do this once?” He scans my face, lowering my body onto his. As he sinks into me, he whispers, “Once is not enough.”

Part Two

Tags

@lokisgoodgirl @sarahscribbles

[bracketsoffear]

Lonely Leitner Reading List

The full list of submissions for the Lonely Leitner bracket. Bold titles are ones which were accepted to appear in the bracket. Synopses and propaganda can be found below the cut. Be warned, however, that these may contain spoilers!

Andersen, Hans Christian: The Snow Queen

Barnes, Jennifer Lynn: Nobody Basye, Dale E.: Snivel Borges, Jorge Luis: The House of Astarion Bradbury, Ray: There Will Come Soft Rains

Dazai, Osamu: No Longer Human Dickens, Charles: Great Expectations

Ellis, Bret Easton: Less Than Zero

Fitzgerald, F. Scott: The Great Gatsby Freeman, Megan E.: Alone

Glass, Merrill: But You Didn't Goss, James: Dead of Winter

Harlow, Harry F.: The Nature of Love Hesse, Herman: Demian Hopkins, David: Thebe and the Angry Red Eye

Jackson, Shirley: We Have Always Lived in the Castle

Koenig, John: The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

Lem, Stanisław: Solaris Lewis, Sinclair: Main Street

Márquez, Gabriel García: One Hundred Years of Solitude Melville, Herman: Bartleby, the Scrivener Moorcock, Michael: The Black Corridor

Orwell, George: Nineteen Eighty-Four

Paver, Michelle: Dark Matter: A Ghost Story Penning, Michael: Solitude Plath, Sylvia: The Bell-Jar Poe, Edgar Allan: The Light-House Poe, Edgar Allan: The Raven Poe, Edgar Allan: Alone

Rosenfeld, Morris: My Boy Rudnick, Elizabeth: A Frozen Heart Ryan, A.J.: Red River Seven

Satrapi, Marjane: Chicken with Plums Schwab, Victoria: The Invisible Life of Addie Larue Shelley, Mary: The Last Man Sigsgaard, Jens: Palle Alone in the World Sims, Jonathan: Family Business

Tchaikovsky, Adrian: Children of Ruin Thoreau, Henry David: Walden Todhunter, Jean Mizer: Cipher in the Snow

Venable, Lynn: Time Enough At Last von Goethe, Johann Wolfgang: The Sorrows of Young Werther

Weir, Andrew: The Martian Wells, H.G.: The Invisible Man

Andersen, Hans Christian: The Snow Queen

Magic ice gets into a boy's heart and makes him incapable of caring for others.

Barnes, Jennifer Lynn: Nobody

There are people in this world who are Nobody. No one sees them. No one notices them. They live their lives under the radar, forgotten as soon as you turn away.

That’s why they make the perfect assassins.

The Institute finds these people when they’re young and takes them away for training. But an untrained Nobody is a threat to their organization. And threats must be eliminated.

Sixteen-year-old Claire has been invisible her whole life, missed by the Institute’s monitoring. But now they’ve ID’ed her and send seventeen-year-old Nix to remove her. Yet the moment he lays eyes on her, he can’t make the hit. It’s as if Claire and Nix are the only people in the world for each other. And they are—because no one else ever notices them.

Basye, Dale E.: Snivel

Dale E. Basye sends Milton and Marlo to Snivel, the circle reserved for crybabies, for their latest hilarious escapade in Heck. Snivel is a camp—a bummer camp—a dismal place where it's always raining, and Unhappy Campers are besieged by swarms of strange mosquitoes that suck the color right out of them. Soon the Fausters discover that some Unhappy Campers have been disappearing. So after Marlo gets chosen for a special project and never comes back, Milton makes up his mind to find her and all the missing children.

Borges, Jorge Luis: The House of Astarion

A rewrite of the myth of the Minotaur. The son of the King lives alone in a labrynth, lost and forsaken, waiting for someone to save him. He leaves the corpses of the sacrifices as a way to find his way out. When someone finally finds him, it will be his executioner.

Bradbury, Ray: There Will Come Soft Rains

This a short story that has been adapted many times, including into a graphic novel. It takes place post nuclear apocalypse, where a futuristic home does its daily routine, despite the devastation outside. At some point, the family dog, riddled with tumors, crawls into the house and dies. It's very depressing. It implies the house would have continued doing this routine forever, except it catches on fire. With no one to stop it, it burns down.

Dazai, Osamu: No Longer Human

Portraying himself as a failure, the protagonist of Osamu Dazai's No Longer Human narrates a seemingly normal life even while he feels himself incapable of understanding human beings. Oba Yozo's attempts to reconcile himself to the world around him begin in early childhood, continue through high school, where he becomes a "clown" to mask his alienation, and eventually lead to a failed suicide attempt as an adult. Without sentimentality, he records the casual cruelties of life and its fleeting moments of human connection and tenderness.

***

It is a novel that delves into the dark and introspective journey of a young man named Yozo. Through a series of confessional notes, Yozo reveals his struggles with alienation, self-destructive behavior, and the inability to connect with others. The original title translates as "Disqualified as a human being" or "A failed human". The book was published one month after Dazai's suicide at the age of 38.

***

“Whenever I was asked what I wanted my first impulse was to answer "Nothing." The thought went through my mind that it didn't make any difference, that nothing was going to make me happy.”

“For someone like myself in whom the ability to trust others is so cracked and broken that I am wretchedly timid and am forever trying to read the expression on people's faces.”

Dickens, Charles: Great Expectations

Miss Havisham is a Lonely avatar working to disconnect Pip from his family with the goal of maximizing his heartbreak at the end.

Ellis, Bret Easton: Less Than Zero

When Clay comes home for Christmas vacation from his Eastern college, he re-enters a landscape of limitless privilege and absolute moral entropy, where everyone drives Porsches, dines at Spago, and snorts mountains of cocaine. He tries to renew feelings for his girlfriend, Blair, and for his best friend from high school, Julian, who is careering into hustling and heroin. Clay's holiday turns into a dizzying spiral of desperation that takes him through the relentless parties in glitzy mansions, seedy bars, and underground rock clubs and also into the seamy world of L.A. after dark.

You know how canonically, one of the Lonely's manifestations is becoming alone in a crowd full of faceless people? This is that, but in book form.

Fitzgerald, F. Scott: The Great Gatsby

The story of a guy who is simultaneously so desperate for love that he transformed himself into a whole new person just to be worthy of the woman he loves, and also so self conscious about it that he can't even approach her, only dwell on the memories of how they used to be. There's so much longing and disconnection, it's nuts.

Freeman, Megan E.: Alone

When twelve-year-old Maddie hatches a scheme for a secret sleepover with her two best friends, she ends up waking up to a nightmare. She’s alone—left behind in a town that has been mysteriously evacuated and abandoned. With no one to rely on, no power, and no working phone lines or internet access, Maddie slowly learns to survive on her own. Her only companions are a Rottweiler named George and all the books she can read. After a rough start, Maddie learns to trust her own ingenuity and invents clever ways to survive in a place that has been deserted and forgotten. As months pass, she escapes natural disasters, looters, and wild animals. But Maddie’s most formidable enemy is the crushing loneliness she faces every day.

Glass, Merrill: But You Didn't

While the original version is more focused on grief, it has been reworked several times over the years. This version appeared in Chicken Soup for the Soul, and is more in line with the themes of the Lonely. This version of the poem has the narrator repeatedly ask one of his parents to play with him, ending each request with the words "but you didn't." It ends, "My country called me to war; you asked me to come home safely... but I didn't!"

Goss, James: Dead of Winter

Synopsis: ""The Dead are not alone. There is something in the mist and it talks to them."

In Dr Bloom's clinic at a remote spot on the Italian coast, at the end of the 18th century, nothing is ever quite what it seems. Maria is a lonely little girl with no one to play with. She writes letters to her mother from the isolated resort where she is staying. She tells of the pale English aristocrats and the mysterious Russian nobles and their attentive servants. She tells of intrigue and secrets, and she tells of strange faceless figures that rise from the sea. She writes about the enigmatic Mrs Pond who arrives with her husband and her physician, and who will change everything.

What she doesn't tell her mother is the truth that everyone knows and no one says – that the only people who come here do so to die."

Why it's Lonely: Well, there's mist over the sea, hallucinatory images of missing loved ones that lure you into the mist to drown you, mist in the characters' memories, and did I mention the mist?

Harlow, Harry F.: The Nature of Love

A research report on the results of the author's (highly controversial) maternal-separation, dependency needs, and social isolation experiments on rhesus monkeys. If you have ever read or heard the words "Cloth Mother and Wire Mother" or "the Pit of Despair": Yes, this is that guy. Yes, this is THAT study. Some researchers cite these experiments as a factor in the rise of the animal liberation movement in the United States. Paradoxically, his darkest experiments may have the brightest legacy, for by studying "neglect" and its life-altering consequences, Harlow confirmed love's central role in shaping not only how we feel but also how we think, and how devastating the effects of isolation are on the brain.

Hesse, Herman: Demian

A brilliant psychological portrait of a troubled young man's quest for self-awareness, this coming-of-age novel achieved instant critical and popular acclaim upon its 1919 publication. A landmark in the history of 20th-century literature, it reflects the author's preoccupation with the duality of human nature and the pursuit of spiritual fullfillment.

Hopkins, David: Thebe and the Angry Red Eye

A furry sci-fi novella originally published in chapters on Hopkins' page at Fur Affinity in 2014; in 2015, it also appeared in The Furry Future, a compilation of Science Fiction stories curated by the late Fred Patten that feature anthro animals.

In a future where furries have replaced humans, the Hildebrand Corporation initiates an ambitious plan to send a starship called the Hildebrand One on a ten-year expedition to Europa, one of Jupiter's moons, in search of extraterrestrial life. A crew of seven is chosen, and their voyage goes well until the ship actually reaches the Gas Giant, where it is damaged by an unpredictable radiation surge. This causes a series of disasters that culminates with the ship crashing on another Jovian moon, Thebe. By the time it's all over, most of the characters are dead; the only survivors are a feline crew member named Thomas and a tomato plant called Oscar. Most of the story is about Thomas trying to cope with his terrible loneliness and learning that living is about more than survival.

Jackson, Shirley: We Have Always Lived in the Castle

The novel is written in the voice of eighteen-year-old Mary Katherine "Merricat" Blackwood, who lives with her agoraphobic sister and ailing uncle on an estate. Six years before the events of the novel, the Blackwood family experienced a tragedy that left the three survivors isolated from their small village.

***

sisters constance and merricat blackwood are ostracized from the village because of the dark event in their past. they prefer the isolated life and even stay to live in their house after it burns down leaving only two rooms intact. merricat has intricate rituals to ensure that their isolated lifestyle remains undisturbed, including burying talismans and nailing them to trees, checking the fence, building additional hiding spots. at the end of the book they stop contacting the villagers at all, hide if someone is trying to visit them, and as time goes on the village starts treating them like witches or spirits - kids tell creepy tales and dare each other to try touching their front porch, adults leave food and supplies as offerings

Koenig, John: The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

Have you ever wondered about the lives of each person you pass on the street, realizing that everyone is the main character in their own story, each living a life as vivid and complex as your own? That feeling has a name: “sonder.” Or maybe you’ve watched a thunderstorm roll in and felt a primal hunger for disaster, hoping it would shake up your life. That’s called “lachesism.” Or you were looking through old photos and felt a pang of nostalgia for a time you’ve never actually experienced. That’s “anemoia.” If you’ve never heard of these terms before, that’s because they didn’t exist until John Koenig wrote this book. It's a dictionary of made-up words for emotions that we all feel but don't have the words to express.

Lem, Stanisław: Solaris

This book is soaked in loneliness. It follows three men who avoid each other’s company on a dilapidated research station on a distant titular planet - Solaris. It is covered by an ocean of gelatinous substance with no solid land in sight, and is later revealed to be an alien. A single alien, a vast extraterrestrial intelligence the size of a planet. Lem wrote 'the peculiarity of those phenomena seems to suggest that we observe a kind of rational activity, but the meaning of this seemingly rational activity of the Solarian Ocean is beyond the reach of human beings' and I just cannot help myself but think what a lonely existence that must be. A planet-sized being, unable to communicate with probably the first other living beings it has ever encountered. It creates landscapes and people out of white seafoam from the memories of the research crew, if their flying cars get too close to the dark viscous surface. It reaches into the minds and pulls up the most emotional of memories to awkwardly reconstruct them into a haunt that will follow a person until destroyed. This quote also got me thinking about the communication between different life forms, and that even if humanity ever makes contact with aliens they might be too incomprehensible for us to grasp. Are we alone in the universe? And does it even matter if we are alone or not, if communication and understanding is impossible?

Lewis, Sinclair: Main Street

Sort of a literary forebear to the TMA episode Cul-de-Sac in its brutal portrayal of small town American life as the narrators attempts to connect with her neighbors and revitalize her town are met with failure and scorn.

Márquez, Gabriel García: One Hundred Years of Solitude

It tells the multi-generational story of the Buendía family, whose patriarch, José Arcadio Buendía, founded the fictitious town of Macondo. Alongside the story of the Buendía family, there are an abundance of vignettes recounting both the everyday and the supernatural occurrences that shape the lives of the inhabitants of Macondo.

To be honest, it could be argued that there's a little of every entity here, from the Slaughter to the Flesh (The baby born with a pig's tail comes to mind...), but the word Solitude isn't in the title for nothing, it is the most dominant theme in the book. Macondo gets founded in the remote jungles of the Colombian rainforest. Isolated from the rest of the world, the Buendías grow to be increasingly solitary and selfish. Throughout the novel it seems as if no character can find true love or escape the destructiveness of their own egocentricity, and even if they find one it will end in tragedy in one way or another.

Many characters end up isolated from the rest of the world and each other in several different ways. There are several examples that I think would fit the Lonely, like Rebeca, who starts as a semi-feral child who's unable to comunicate with her adoptive family because of a language barrier and ends as a bitter old woman who ends her days self-isolating from everything and everyone by choosing to live in seclusion on her mansion after the untimely death of her husband, keeping her family outside at gunpoint when they try to reconnect with her. There's also how the patriach of the family goes insane and is tied to a chestnut tree like a dog until his death. There's Coronel Aureliano Buendía, who shuts himself in his room making gold fish out of coins that he then sells for more coins to make into more gold fish. And just... so many more examples of characters living and dying in sheer loneliness either because of tragic circumstances or by their own choice. And then there's the ending.

"(...)because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth."

***

One Hundred Years of Solitude tells the story of the rise and fall, birth and death of the mythical town of Macondo through the history of the Buendía family. Inventive, amusing, magnetic, sad and alive with unforgettable men and women—brimming with truth, compassion, and a lyrical magic that strikes the soul—this novel is a masterpiece in the art of fiction.

***

"The book follows the story of the Buendía family and the town they create, Macondo, from its foundation to its end. Of course, it is told in a non-linear fashion with every generation having the same few names, as well as the same basic attributes (except for a pair of twins whose names are thought to have been accidentally switched at some point)."

It's a story about a family that have terrible trouble connecting and communicating with other people. Like unlucky, unintentional Lukases.

Melville, Herman: Bartleby, the Scrivener

A man who lives on his own terms, disconnected from society. Opportunities are laid before him -- work, friendship, life -- but he denies them all. If he cannot live by his own terms, he refuses to live at all. This cautionary tale warns readers against too much independence from the people around them. Vote for Bartleby! Unless, of course, you would prefer not to.

Moorcock, Michael: The Black Corridor

Space isolation horror! A man is released from cryosleep to take his solo shift making sure the ship runs properly. For 25 years.

Orwell, George: Nineteen Eighty-Four

"The book is set in London, the chief city of Airstrip One and part of the superpower of Oceania. Life sucks. Oceania is ruled by the totalitarian regime of "the Party", personified by the omnipresent figure of "Big Brother". Standards of living are low due to the Forever War Oceania is engaged in alongside their ally Eurasia against Eastasia (or is it the other way around?). Sex is banned for all Party members except for procreation, and only between state-approved couplings.(...)"

The party loves destroying human relations. Everybody should be suspicious of everybody else. There should be no romantic love no friendship no nothing. And to get out of the harshest punishment you need to sell out somebody in your place. This is a lonely Leithner.

Paver, Michelle: Dark Matter: A Ghost Story

January 1937. Clouds of war are gathering over a fogbound London. Twenty-eight year old Jack is poor, lonely, and desperate to change his life, so when he's offered the chance to join an Arctic expedition, he jumps at it. Spirits are high as the ship leaves Norway: five men and eight huskies, crossing the Barents Sea by the light of the midnight sun. At last they reach the remote, uninhabited bay where they will camp for the next year, Gruhuken, but the Arctic summer is brief. As night returns to claim the land, Jack feels a creeping unease. One by one, his companions are forced to leave. He faces a stark choice: stay or go. Soon he will see the last of the sun, as the polar night engulfs the camp in months of darkness. Soon he will reach the point of no return--when the sea will freeze, making escape impossible. Gruhuken is not uninhabited. Jack is not alone. Something walks there in the dark...

Penning, Michael: Solitude

The forest has never been more deadly...

Megan Danforth thought she knew the dangers of the wilderness, but she was wrong. When a little girl goes missing deep in the woods, the young forest ranger must put her own demons aside and turn to an infamous hermit for help. But as secrets are revealed and the clock ticks down, Megan realizes the man she's relying on to save the girl's life may have ties to her own troubled past. He wasn't alone out there in forest. Something evil was with him, and it may have driven him to kill.

Can Megan uncover the truth and bring the lost child home before it's too late, or will the darkness haunting the forest consume them all?

Plath, Sylvia: The Bell-Jar

The book describes a depressed young woman who feels alienated from the misogynistic world and expectations it puts on her. She cannot understand the motivations of people to live, and in turn people do not understand (or acknowledge) her struggle with mental health and sexism.

Poe, Edgar Allan: The Light-House

The title of this short story is unofficial, as Poe did not finish writing it before his death. A diary of a lighthouse keeper with descriptions of sea, weather, and the worrying state of the structure. In the entry for the third day he remarks that the foundation seems to be chalk. The next entry has a date but no text.

Poe, Edgar Allan: The Raven

It tells of a distraught lover who is paid a mysterious visit by a talking raven. The lover, often identified as a student, is lamenting the loss of his love, Lenore. Sitting on a bust of Pallas, the raven seems to further antagonize the protagonist with its constant repetition of the word "Nevermore".

Poe, Edgar Allan: Alone

From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were—I have not seen As others saw—I could not bring My passions from a common spring— From the same source I have not taken My sorrow—I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone— And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone— Then—in my childhood—in the dawn Of a most stormy life—was drawn From ev’ry depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still— From the torrent, or the fountain— From the red cliff of the mountain— From the sun that ’round me roll’d In its autumn tint of gold— From the lightning in the sky As it pass’d me flying by— From the thunder, and the storm— And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view—

Rosenfeld, Morris: My Boy

A brief poem narrated by a father who has to work so much that he never sees his little son awake.

Rudnick, Elizabeth: A Frozen Heart

A novel adaptation of Disney's 'Frozen' which reveals and unpacks Prince Hans' backstory as he changes from a decent young man who abhors his family's violence, manipulations, and abuse, to the villain who uses all of those tactics to take advantage of Princess Anna, as in the film. He realizes that his behavior is abhorrent, but his need to be loved and accepted by his father and brothers outweighs his sense of decency, and he does whatever he feels is necessary to take the throne of Arendelle.

Ryan, A.J.: Red River Seven

Seven strangers. One mission. Infinite horror.

A man awakes on a boat at sea with no memory of who or where he is. He's not alone - there are six others, each with a unique set of skills. None of them can remember their names. All of them possess a gun.

When a message appears on the onboard computer - Proceeding to Point A - the group agrees to work together to survive whatever is coming. But as the boat moves through the mist-shrouded waters, divisions begin to form. Who is directing them and to what purpose? Why can't they remember anything?

And what are the screams they can hear beyond the mist?

Satrapi, Marjane: Chicken with Plums

"In November 1955, Nasser Ali Khan, one of Iran's most celebrated tar players, is in search of a new instrument. His beloved tar has been broken. But no matter what tar he tries, none of them sound right. Brokenhearted, Nasser Ali Khan decides that life is no longer worth living. He takes to his bed, renouncing the world and all of its pleasures. This is the story of the eight days he spends preparing to surrender his soul."

Nasser is lonely and disconnected from most of the people in his life and stuck in a loveless marriage. There is also the real reason he decides to die.

Spoilers: Nasser got his whole creative drive from unfulfilled love to a woman he was not allowed to marry. Yet when he meets her on the street after many years she pretends not to recognize him. This breaks his heart completely and makes him unable to play his instrument leading to his decision to die. So he decides to die due to lack of love i.e. loneliness.

Schwab, Victoria: The Invisible Life of Addie Larue

France, 1714: In a moment of desperation, a young woman makes a Faustian bargain to live forever - and is cursed to be forgotten by everyone she meets.

Thus begins the extraordinary life of Addie LaRue and a dazzling adventure that will play out across centuries and continents, across history and art, as a young woman learns how far she will go to leave her mark on the world.

But everything changes when, after nearly 300 years, Addie stumbles across a young man in a hidden bookstore and he remembers her name.

Shelley, Mary: The Last Man

At the novel's climax, The Black Death has killed off all humans but the main protagonist, Lionel, plus Adrian, Clara and Evelyn. Evelyn, Lionel's son, dies of an illness (not the Plague, but typhus), then Adrian and Clara drown when a storm in the Adriatic wrecks the three's boat. Returning to shore and making his way to the deserted city of Rome, Lionel realises he is likely the last human left alive, and after another year passes without the evidence of any other humans, he resolves to live the rest of his life as a wanderer, motivated by the prospect of someone, or anyone, for that matter, still being alive on the now-decimated Earth.

Sigsgaard, Jens: Palle Alone in the World

This picture book is so famous in Denmark that "being/feeling Palle" is a very common and casual term for feeling alone. The book is essentially just about a young boy named Palle who wakes up and finds the entirety of Copenhagen completely void of people no matter where he goes. While he has fun at first, eating all the candy he wants, driving trains, he eventually despairs that he has no one to share these experiences with.

Sims, Jonathan: Family Business

“When Diya Burman's best friend Angie dies, it feels like her own life is falling apart. Wanting a fresh start, she joins Slough & Sons - a family firm that cleans up after the recently deceased.

Old love letters. Porcelain dolls. Broken trinkets. Clearing away the remnants of other people's lives, Diya begins to see things. Horrible things. Things that get harder and harder to write off as merely her grieving imagination. All is not as it seems with the Slough family. Why won't they speak about their own recent loss? And who is the strange man that keeps turning up at their jobs?

If Diya's not careful, she might just end up getting buried under the family tree.”

A book all about memory, grief, forgetting, and the forgotten.

Tchaikovsky, Adrian: Children of Ruin

Thirty-one light years from Earth, a fraction of humanity's terraforming project survives the collapse of civilisation. When the universe falls silent, the five remaining scientists turn their attention to the planets below. Disra Senkovi continues the mission, isolated from his crewmates as his engineered aquatic life grows increasingly erratic, while the others study the planet Nod's seemingly harmless fauna, gathering data for no one to read. Their research abruptly halts when a native parasite jumps the gap between alien and human, devouring the minds of its hosts in an attempt to understand them. Senkovi, the mission's sole survivor, spends the last century of his life protecting the mutated denizens of his terraformed planet, whose civilisation he can no longer comprehend.

It's a book about isolation, literal and metaphorical; about incompatibility, inter- and intraspecific. It's about the fear that communication barriers can never be broken, about suffering that arises not from malice but misunderstanding. It's about the aching solitude we inflict on ourselves.

Thoreau, Henry David: Walden

Let's get this straight -- the whole Walden trip was kind of a farce. Thoreau was close enough to his home the whole time for his mom to bring his meals and do his laundry. Nevertheless, the book has inspired many readers to try and similarly divorce themselves from society and 'live off the land', creating situations of isolation and solitude.

Todhunter, Jean Mizer: Cipher in the Snow

It's a short story about a boy who asks to get off the school bus and keels over dead in the snow for no discernible reason; it then follows the teacher who has been asked to write the obituary because apparently he was the kid's favorite teacher despite having practically no idea who he is. He can't find ten people who know the kid well enough to go to the funeral and it's implied that his death was just because of loneliness. The story was later made into a short film in 1973 and, despite the main conflict/emphasis of the film being on the neglect of his parents and teachers, it wound up being used as an anti-bullying PSA for many students because apparently nothing says "be nice to your peers" like "if your parents don't love you enough you might just spontaneously kick the bucket".

Venable, Lynn: Time Enough At Last

The short story that formed the basis for the classic segment in The Twilight Zone. Henry Bemis wants to be left alone so he can fulfil his wish to read a book from cover to cover, and does so by shutting himself in a bank vault. When he leaves, he finds that an atomic bomb has struck, wiping out everyone he knew and possibly the rest of the world. He plans to take advantage of the solitude by reading everything he can in the remains of the library, but his glasses (bespoke due to his complicated prescription) fall off and break, forcing him to confront what it truly means to be entirely alone.

von Goethe, Johann Wolfgang: The Sorrows of Young Werther

The story unfolds through a series of letters penned by the eponymous protagonist, Werther, and mainly chronicles his experiences in the small town of Wahlheim. After he falls madly in love with an young woman named Lotte, who is engaged to someone else, Werther gradually becomes more emotional and less mentally stable, not only because of said unrequited love (He in fact spends part of the novel willingly far away from her) but because he feels increasingly withdrawn from a world and a society he has grown to deeply resent.

The novel was one of the earliest works of literature to generate a recognizable fandom, creating a dress fashion. It was also one of the first to be blamed, not without cause, to have a negative effect on some of its readers; psychologists therefore continue to debate about the "Werther effect", meaning a work of art encouraging consumers to commit suicide. The "wave of suicides" following the novel was somewhat exaggerated, more recent studies indicate that there may only be about a dozen verifiable cases where the novel played a part. However, one of them was a friend of Goethe's, which probably was the reason why he published the revised edition of 1787.

Weir, Andrew: The Martian

Mark Watney is an astronaut who is part of the third manned mission to Mars. Soon after they land, the Martian weather gets too rough and the mission has to be abandoned. In the escape, Watney is struck down by a piece of debris and presumed dead, and left on the planet. However, he survives. With no obvious way to communicate with mission control, he has to use the limited resources on hand to survive until the next mission — which is years away.

Wells, H.G.: The Invisible Man

Griffin's invisibility resulted in increasingly strained relations with the people around him and society at large. Eventually, his isolation drove him beyond the constraints of social norms, leading him to murderous outbursts and destructive impulses.

[sandrockianblues]

spare Pen HCs, for when he's dating the builder? bonus points if the builder is a little feral.

Prime Himbo Pen?😍

🏅Pen🏅hcs

For all his bravado and arrogance, he’s actually a bit surprised the builder chose him of all people.

Not that he’d admit that tho

He lowkey loves flaunting the fact that he’s taken and unavailable after the builder gets with him

Like even if a tourist comes up to ask for directions-

“Halt there, stranger. Per the rules of the sanctity of my relationship with our local builder; I shan’t engage in conversation with those who gaze upon my gains in wonderment and awe.”

They’ll spend the next few hours looking for the store they need

Logan and Owen are really his biggest competition and he treats them as so if his builder is close with one of them

He’s kind of a crybaby if the builder tugs on his heart strings enough

Full on crying and blaming the sand, saying it got in his eyes

He melts and shuts down for praise and genuine compliments. Can’t compute and gets slightly flustered

But he CAN flirt like it’s nobody’s business. He gives as good as he gets and more.

If the builder is a bit rambunctious, aggressive, defensive, impulsive, etc…

It somehow chills him out? Like he’s got to be the sane one between the two of them

Literally holding them under their arms and away from their target

Gives a half-assed apology because like, he still stands by the whole “I’m sorry you felt that way.”

The builder has to lead the way with initiating affection for most of the beginning of their relationship, sorry. He’s not used to it

Deadass fears breaking or crushing them (man has Lenny vibes from Of Mice & Men)

Brush his hair please. He somehow breaks and ruins brushes doing it himself because his constant jumping and running around leaves it knotted up

But if the builder has more patience and a gentle hand, Pen will come to them to help him out with his hair

One of the few times they’ll get a somewhat quiet Pen

He’ll groan continuously and in content as they work the knots out carefully

Also Pablo will thank them.

Playing with his hair afterward or just threading their fingers through his thick locks is a major bonus he loves

Believe it or not, while Pen tans nicely (don’t doubt that he’ll tan nude on top of the church out of view to get a full on even color) only the bridge of his nose will burn!

So when he’s with the builder, if they ignore his dismal to their concern and saying the burn will eventually fade into a tan-

And the start a daily routine of applying a little bit of sunscreen to that bit of skin

He’ll fall in love all over again

Them offering to help with his workouts makes him laugh

Until they start flirting with him and he realizes oh…

Oh, that works.

Cue Pen working hard to earn kisses in each rep or count

Cue Pen wanting more praises

Despite his constant flaunting and offers to feel up his muscles, it comes as a shock to him when they actually do

Know how he’ll stand for hours, maybe even days on end, in front of a mirror?

Yeah. If the builder stares at him, Pen will feel compelled to keep quiet and stay still no matter how long they take.

It’s something about the way their eyes look at him with admiration, adoration and love that fills him with a wholeness he’s been missing

Like those countless hours he’s spent working hard have finally amounted to something and he no longer needs to try finding his answer in his own reflection

Gets genuinely excited like a great big puppy when the builder offers to spar with him

Pen DOES learn to control his strength and capabilities eventually, so then it becomes a bickering fest if he’s holding back on them to those that are a bit prideful

Touched when the builder washes his cape for him because he will literally never remember to

Call him “my hero” and he might just die on the spot

Also, convince this man he is not indestructible or immortal please.

He’ll literally yeet himself off any tall surface or structure to surprise the builder

He almost broke a few bones at different times

Love lovES LOVES when the builder is standing on a higher surface than him. Platform, steps, ladder, stairs, etc

Makes the man swoon so fast when they have the (literal) higher ground for some reason

There’s something about being able to hug his builder with his cheek against where their heart lays that completes him

Also his favorite sleeping position once he is promised that he’s not crushing them if he lays on top

Refuses to let the builder carry anything heavy if he’s around

He likes feeling useful

It’s not lending a hand to the church or the Civil Corps that fulfills him

It’s being with his builder.

[t-o-p-ask-blog]

So, what are you all up to nowadays?

Oh! I personally have my daily performances in the theater. Well, other than when the theater is closed. I usually perform between three and five shows per day. On some days, there will be a few hours in which films are shown, as was the case before. But, otherwise, I'm the primary entertainment!

I normally don't do much. I more or less just try to keep myself busy. Sometimes, that means trying to fix those stupid machines that always gave Eclipse trouble before. I do need to start looking for more things to build or research. I really haven't done much of that in a long time. The whole Ruin situation sort of pulled me out of that routine, and I just haven't gotten back to it.

Well, Sun, Lunar, and I still run the daycare every day that it's open. And, of course, I have my unofficial therapist work, and Lunar helps with scheduling appointments. I've had a slightly more full schedule, in terms of appointments. But, other than that, not a lot has changed for me. Oh! Other than being present for Eclipse's sessions with Titan. And, we usually spend some time together afterwards. It's always nice spending time with either of them, especially since Eclipse and I have so many common Interests!

I've still just been working the counter at the theater. The only real difference is the crowd levels. We hardly had anyone coming through when the theater was just playing movies. Now, it's a lot busier. People seem to really enjoy watching Eclipse's shows. And, from what I can hear, I can see why. I've also been trying to just keep making things in my free time, despite having no real need to build anything at the moment.

I've mostly just been making sure the computer and the rest of the technology in the daycare stay in functioning order. Despite the current lack of real danger, the portal still goes nuts sometimes. So, I have to deal with that. Besides that, I've just been trying to regularly check in on everyone. The last thing I ever want to do is make any of my family feel left out or left behind.

It's been more or less the same for me. I take care of the kids in the daycare, I go home, play with my cats, maybe play a game or watch a movie or something, then go to bed. Rinse and repeat.

I'm still working in the daycare and training. I feel like I'm getting a better grasp on my powers. I certainly felt good about sending out an exact amount of electricity, without adrenaline making it way more! But, yeah, nothing all that different with me.

[invisible-storyteller]

The third date rule

Inspired by this post

(Also on AO3)

Derek hates this.

No, that's not entirely true, he actually loves this. He loves spending time with Stiles, loves listening to his discursive rants and watching his hands fly in all directions as he talks animatedly before getting disrupted by the wobble of his wine glass threatening to spill over. It wouldn't be the first time.

When Stiles said yes to his first invitation, Derek was equally elated and confused. Of course, he knew there was a slight chance that Stiles might be interested - Derek was definitely not sore on the eyes (the number of times people flirted with him on a daily basis was proof of that) and all those shared coffee breaks and lunchtime trash-talking about their coworkers were certainly a build-up for something - but Derek was still anxiously turning in his bed the night before he made up his mind to ask Stiles out on an official date.

Stiles is simply too good for Derek. He is bright, witty, attentive when he finds something he can lose himself in and creative in the most unexpected ways. He is loyal to his friends as much as he is protective of them, and his opinions are always nuanced, even if his stubbornness could easily rival Derek's. On top of all that, Stiles is gorgeous and charming - he sneaked into Derek's life without notice and carved a place for himself that would leave Derek feeling hollow if unfilled. Stiles could have anyone, Derek thinks, and he's still sitting across from Derek in a low-profile restaurant.

Derek doesn't hate this - this whole dating thing that has actually gone smoother than Derek anticipated. No, Derek hates how he is about to ruin it because his hands are sweating, he keeps making faces that must look just as awkward and weird as he feels, and Stiles looks so edible in his button-down that Derek just wants to reach across the table and tear those buttons off one by one. Well, maybe, if his predictions have been right.

"Hey, you're okay?" Stiles's gentle voice snaps him out of his (oh god, please say it wasn't creepy) staring and Derek's eyes shift towards where Stiles's fingers are lightly touching his wrist.

He can't help it. That simple touch is enough to make the room ten times hotter for Derek, so he really can't be blamed for what comes falling out of his mouth next.

"Yeah, just, according to my calculations, this is the date where we're supposed to have sex."

Stiles's small caress immediately ceases and the other man's eyes nearly bug out of their sockets as Derek shifts nervously in his seat. He should have stuck with his usual mountain man routine - the first time he says something without careful pre-thought it makes Stiles pull away from him as if he's contagious.

"Sorry, I'm not trying to rush you," Derek says, wincing at how he's coming across more and more like an asshole, "But I heard that third dates are... um... special."

Derek is going to kill Erica later, she's at fault for all of this. Stiles still hasn't stopped staring dumbfoundedly at him and Derek wishes he didn't find that attractive as well.

"We don't have to, of course," Derek barges on, unsettled by the lack of reaction from Stiles, "I like going on dates with you. So this is more than, uh, just sex for me, obviously."

Although, sex would be awesome with Stiles. Not like Derek has been lying awake at night, imaging all the ways he could take Stiles apart with meticulously planted kisses and deliberate touches, how Stiles's body must be sensitive and if that would make Stiles all the more responsive, and does Stiles like to cuddle during the afterglow? Derek hopes so. But pondering such things would mean that Derek is mooning over Stiles, which he definitely isn't, Erica, shut up.

Stiles's entire body does a twitch after what seems like hours and the slowly appearing pink on his cheeks is not something Derek has witnessed before but he's quite fond of, nevertheless. Stiles's eyes dart to the side, tongue sweeping over his bottom lip, and Derek feels a bit too obvious with the way he traces the movement with his eyes.

"This is... I mean... the third date?"

Stiles is evidently nervous but he isn't bolting from the restaurant so the night might still be salvageable.

"Yeah, but as I said, we don't have to-"

"When was the first?" Stiles interrupts, hand crumpling up his napkin and looking like a guilt-stricken student ready to admit he didn't prepare for the test. Derek feels like reaching out and taking the other's hand but he isn't sure if his attempt at comforting would be welcomed.

"A week ago," Derek answers instead, because really, he can't blame Stiles for not keeping track. "I asked you if you wanted me to show you one of my favourite restaurants and you said yes."

"And you brought me here," Stiles's eyes widen, looking around as if it is the first time he's ever seen the place. He doesn't have a twin, right? Derek probably would have noticed.

"Yes," Derek nods unsurely, "I drove you home. I said I had a great time."

"Wait! You were trying to kiss me that night!" Stiles exclaims as if it is some big revelation to him. Derek blushes.

"Yes, and you leaned away. Not that I'm mad at you for that."

"Dude," Stiles makes a sound much similar to the one Cora lets out when she claims she isn't whining, and he slumps back in his seat with a mix of exasperation and fondness written on his face, "Of course, I leaned away. I had no idea it was a date, and I don't normally kiss my colleagues goodnight."

And there it is, the mortification in Derek's heart. Although, it passes quickly to give space to shame so it's rather short-lived.

"Oh," Derek gets out because he doesn't know what else to say. Looking back, telling Stiles that he was expecting them to have sex by the end of the night seems worse than ever if that is possible.

"Sorry I made you uncomfortable..." Derek can't even look at him now, can only think about Laura's mockery later on and how she's going to cuddle him on his couch to comfort him and his broken heart. Why did he have to open his mouth in the first place?

"No! No, no, I'm-" Stiles leans forward so fast he justles the table and it almost tips his glass of wine over. He curses under his breath even if the waiters are probably used to it by now.

"Sorry," Derek repeats out of compulsion, "Just think of all this as a friendly dinner and I'll... I'll just go."

"NO!"

And Stiles's hand is back on his wrist in an instant, his eyes panicked and earnest as Derek looks back at him cautiously. Stiles bites his lip, and Derek's heart flutters in response.

"I would like- I mean... I like you, too," Stiles declares firmly as if he desperately needs to get his message across, "I didn't know, but... It's not like I mind. I mean, who wouldn't want to date you?"

Stiles gives him a nervous smile and the only reason Derek is still there is because Stiles's touch is anchoring him in place and because his amber eyes have never looked so hopeful. It's beautiful. Stiles is beautiful.

"So you're okay with this being a date?" Derek asks with trepidation but Stiles's answering smile is as wide as it ever is when Jackson trips over his extended foot or when a new Marvel movie comes out. Is it unhealthy for Derek's heart to be skipping so much?

"Totally, yes, absolutely, sign me up, I mean..." Stiles looks away sheepishly and Derek just has to move his hand so their fingers can finally interlace atop the table. Stiles's cheeks are still pink, but the redness is now travelling down to his neck, and Derek just wants to see how it blossoms over his body.

Those impulsive thoughts have him shifting in his seat, ashamed for still assuming that their date could end the way Derek was originally hoping it would.

"Alright," Derek says, giving Stiles a small smile to hide just how fiercely he is buzzing with excitement. He takes his wine glass into hand (hoping for casual) and raises it towards Stiles who follows his example belatedly. "To first dates?"

Their glasses clink together, and as Derek takes the first sip with an irrepressible smile, Stiles's voice suddenly drops an octave in his next sentence: "By the way, I have nothing against putting out on the first date."

Derek might spit his wine onto his plate, face burning red. Stiles might laugh as he drinks his own wine with a satisfied smirk in place and Derek might just fall in love with him a little bit more. Stiles then might entangle their legs under the table before paying the bill and pulling Derek to his feet with impatient hands. Derek might be taken to Stiles's place afterwards, where he gets to see Stiles's entire body flush under the soft press of his lips and how Stiles's mouth falls open in the prettiest shape of O when he orgasms.

And tomorrow, they might wake up in each other's arms with Derek feeling grateful for Stiles's disregard for the third date rule.

[knight-engale]

The Best Present

1.1k words

Pairing: Morgan x Rowan

@wiltingdecay Happy birthday, bestie!!! Hope you have a wonderful day! 💙

"I'm sorry, my spark… I'm going to miss it by a week." Morgan's expression was apologetic. "There was a supplier issue in port that set us back. We're scrambling to get back on track as quickly as possible, but we'll probably still get back to Vesuvia a handful of days late at best."

"Mórnkan, it's okay." Rowan reached out to touch the glass of the enchanted mirror. It was so off-putting to feel its cold, smooth surface instead of his wife's cheek. "I understand. I'll just hang out with Asra and Muriel like I usually do. Don't worry about it; you look stressed enough already."

Morgan pouted slightly. "I'm still sorry. It's not fair… The one time we get delayed…"

"I know. But I promise it's okay. I'm not upset."

"I know you're not." Morgan sighed. "I'll bring back something nice for you. To make up for it."

"Only if you want to."

"Of course. I…need to go now. I love you. See you soon."

"I love you too. See you soon." Rowan smiled as Morgan blew them a kiss, then ended the call. She was sweet to worry about this, but in all honesty, they rarely did much for their birthday anyway. It was disappointing that she wouldn't be home, but it wouldn't ruin their plans or anything. They'd understood that this might happen when they married her. The possibility of missing important days just came with the territory.

Still, that knowledge didn't stop his heart from aching at the thought of being separated for even longer. At the same time, he'd felt worse in the past.

Four monotonous days went by. The calls with Morgan had been shorter than usual, and she seemed so tired. It was probably a good thing that she wouldn't be there for Rowan's birthday (at least, that's what they told themself); she wouldn't have the energy to do much, which would make her feel even worse than she felt now. He missed hearing her go on about her day, though. She was so cute when she rambled about her daily life.

Rowan's birthday dawned bright and pleasantly warm. They went about their usual morning routine, and headed to the shop after breakfast. To his surprise, Asra was standing on the doorstep, his signature catlike grin on his face.

"Morning, Ro. Happy birthday."

"Thanks, but…why are you out here this early?"

"I couldn't just let you be alone on your birthday, could I?"

"I guess not. I thought we'd planned on me visiting you two this afternoon."

"I know. I figured I'd swing by in the morning, too. In fact…don't bother opening the shop today. You should come spend the whole day with us." His purple eyes sparkled. He had to be up to something.

"Asra, if you have anything hiding in a cake or something, I'm not interested."

"Aww, how did you know?" Asra laughed brightly. "Seriously though, come back to our place for the day. Muri has something for you and he's getting impatient, since he doesn't like visiting your new place."

"...Yeah, okay. You win." Rowan smiled a little as Asra took their hand, tugging them down the street. He wondered what they were doing. Then again, this wasn't that out of place for them.

One long walk later, they arrived at the cabin Muriel and Asra lived in. Asra paused to say hi to the chickens before they both went inside.

"Honey, I'm home!" Asra called as he stepped inside. His voice summoned Inanna, who promptly ran up to greet Rowan. Rowan laughed, crouching to give her a good head scratch.

"Hey, girl! How're you?"

Inanna let out a bark, as quiet as she could manage, then nudged their wedding pendant. Her head tilted to the side as she looked around for a moment, as if questioning where Morgan was.

"She's…away right now. She was supposed to come home last night, but…her schedule didn't work out."

Inanna whined.

"I know. I'm sad about it, too." They managed a little bit of a smile. "But it's alright. We'll have plenty of fun either way."

Inanna nuzzled them lightly, then trotted back to the fireplace. Rowan followed her and took a seat on the sofa. Soon enough, he and Asra were chatting about their lives recently; it had been a bit since they'd been able to have a properly long talk.

The morning passed by more quickly than it had in weeks. It turned out that the gift Muriel had apparently been impatient to give them was a wooden relief carving of a large, intricate tree with a sun and moon in the sky above it. It would be perfect as wall art for his and Morgan's home. He wondered where they'd put it.

Now, he and Asra were heading back to Rowan's place. Asra had been insistent on having pizza for lunch, but they didn't have all the ingredients. Rowan's place was a little further away, but it meant not spending extra on ingredients they already had. At least, that was what Asra said.

Rowan pulled one of the front doors open when they arrived, and was greeted by a familiar smell. A smell that shouldn't have been there; there shouldn't be anyone in the villa at all, let alone anyone cooking. It was faint, though. They could have been imagining it. Asra didn't notice it…or if they did, they didn't care.

"Which way is the kitchen again?"

"To the left…" Rowan wandered down the short hall that led to the kitchen and dining room. As soon as he was in view of the kitchen, every muscle in their body froze.

There, in the kitchen, was Morgan. She was working on beef stew (and from the scent of it, there was also bread in the oven), and wore a particularly revealing dress. She looked up from the stove when she heard footsteps, a bright smile spreading across her face.

"What…"

"Surprise! Happy birthday, darling." Morgan walked over, laughing when they pulled her close.

"You said… I thought…"

"I thought we would be, but I was wrong. We got in late last night… Asra offered to help me surprise you."

Rowan looked over their shoulder, but it seemed their friend had slipped away to give them a moment. He looked down at his wife with wide eyes. Her own green eyes sparkled with laughter.

"And I did get you plenty of presents, they're wrapped up in our room…"

They laughed incredulously. She was really thinking about gifts? "Oh, stuff the presents! I already have the best present I could ask for. You're home."

Morgan blushed, then squeaked as Rowan kissed her. Their arms wrapped around her waist, and hers wound around their neck.

"You're home," Rowan murmured softly once they finally pulled back.

"I'm home… I love you."

"I love you too. Come on…lunch is ready."

[linaket]

Weekly Writing Check-In (2/12/23)

Tinder Saint Progress: * 6 of 15 chapters complete. * word count: 18k (projected: 40k)

An excerpt, with some lore building.

“Rashad wasn’t completely wrong. Almost every Ilazkin text had some story or another in it, but there’s layers. The story of Shahsu and Maran is about parts being separated, and bringing them back together. Under it is the construct of the soul.”

He knelt at the center of the room, and was rewarded by the symbol he was looking for. He brushed his hand over it, feeling the raised edges around it. “This one is the whole.” He waved Jinan over. “Wait here.”

“The soul?” Sita asked.

Once Vahn saw the path, it was easy to follow. “The soul wasn’t a single thing to the ancients. It had parts.” He found a second panel on the opposite wall. “This one is self. Suad?”

They approached, wary but grudgingly willing. “Is there more?”

“One more.” 

Vahn crossed the room to the panel that Rashad had originally found. With the flames illuminating it at the right angle, it was exactly as it had been before.

“What’s that?” Suad asked.

Vahn smiled to himself. He remembered the light slanting through the windows and how the shadows darkened the annoyed knit of Kanna’s brow. “She couldn’t really figure out what to call it.” He tilted his head to the side, studying the lines. “I guess ‘gift’ is pretty close. But…”

“What would you call it?” Sita prompted. 

Vahn had almost forgotten she was there. “Instinct might be closer.”

🎵 A Shell In The Pit's Rings in Rings in Rings

Thoughts:

This week I managed to be more productive than I have been in recent times, finishing a full chapter. It's only about 3k, but that's a good bit for me since I fell out of my regular daily writing habit last year. It felt really good to write, even if it wasn't my favorite scene and once again suffered from "why do I have so many characters doing so many things always all the time."

It did give me a bit of hope, though. I'm aiming now to try and finish a chapter a week. It might be a bit lofty in my current state, but I want to re-establish a writing routine again. I've missed it, and I need it.

Tinder Saint has been going a bit... oddly, in comparison to my usual way of going about things. Because I had been feeling so low about my writing, I had spent months spinning my wheels and getting nowhere, until I decided "fuck it" and just. Banged out an entire scene draft for the whole story in a few days. But when I did that, it helped me to see things much clearer, and I was able to get excited about the project again. I always avoided doing this because I thought it ruined part of the fun/spontaneity of writing, but it... didn't do that for me. I know what is going on and what happens, and now I can't wait to make it pretty and make it hurt.

I have been skipping a few chapters / scenes that I simply. Didn't feel like writing. And I am typically a very chronological writer. Even now, it's nagging me that I skipped some things. And because of it, I have about two or three chapters that are sitting half finished. I'm thinking I may spend this next week going back to some of those skipped scenes since I have a better idea of what I need in them and I'm feeling a tad more confident in myself since I was able to get some good writing sessions in.

[the-firebird69]

It ‘Ends Now’—Donald Trump Reveals Surprise Assault On ‘Crooked’ Wall Street (forbes.com)

THE AMERICAN PUBLIC KNOWS DONALD TRUMP IS A SUPER WEALTHY. KNOWS HE HAS HUGE BUSINESSES STILL.

CRYPTO CURRENCY The FBI explicitly said more than a decade ago that “it is a violation of federal law for individuals … to create private coin or currency systems to compete with the official coinage and currency of the United States.” AND IT IS STILL ILLEGAL

IT IS CONSIDERED TO BE TREASON TO MAKE IT USE IT AND YOU MAY BE SHOT ON SITE FOR DOING SO

PROMOTING IT AS A PRESIDENT OR FOERMER PRESIDENT IS ABUSE OF POWER WITH INTENT TO OVERTHROW THE USA AND ITS PEOPLE.

I was born here and I've never seen the constitution so abused. This person Trump is completely wrong tried to take the country over by force and his vice president made statements saying that's what he was doing and other people who are in the government and you people are stupid as hell for trying it and your media is owned by you and you're not letting it out and the American people know about it in other words If you force your way into the stupid office again you're going to be killed along with all of your people. This country was founded on weapons and is going to be finished here between you and the people with weapons and that's what they've said. You can take your Nancy Pansy job which Max Shoehorned you into to get rid of you but that's what you wanna do and I know you're gonna try and do it and I know it'll happen you're gonna be fine on your face the whole time. And yeah you're

And yeah you're an

I'm requesting formal charges to be brought on Donald Trump for every count of treason that he has made since his attempt January 6th to take over the United States by force it is indicative of his attempt and it all points to it as it failed he's been trying to depower deflegate the entire country regardless of who they are they're trying to stand together and he's trying to take everything over. I'm tired of this sick old piece of crap stalking me and his **** boy bothering me their pieces of junk I could kill them in a blink and I probably should as at this time I'm duly authorized for the most part my grandpa's president of the United States. Abused and he's shunned and he's done more for this country than anyone else against Trump because Trump is the one who's ruining it and Trump is ruining it for his master in his master plans on executing him for real this boy Trump is going to kill himself in front of everybody he is a massive buffoon as it is the Mac proper plan to have him gather all the weapons he doesn't have a chance in using them and is sitting there 1 weekling and another weakling smoldering until foreigners come by and the max come by and rip it all the way from them they're not in tune to the fact that this can happen easily they don't understand what the overwhelming force is and they have no idea what to do with the weaponry except for threatened the general population try and take it over and thus alienated everybody and their move to try and do anything is not going to work. We did them out of our face right now i'm sick of this daily routine where everybody tolerates someone who is such a **** **** **** for them that they should be executed before they were born. This person Trump is a street person he's trash he's a **** **** loser everybody knows

zeus Hera

Olympus

[lunarsun12]

The Golden Iceskates

Masterlist

It was midday after Sunghoon has woken up from his gaming session with Niki (poor Sunghoon got beaten badly by the kid). Before he has his breakfast, he always polishes his skates as part of his daily routine. Until he found out that his skates was missing, Sunghoon was speechless as it was prized possession plus lucky skates (plus many months of his savings). He spotted Sunoo was skipping back to his room with something shiny his hands, looking very happy. His major suspect is Sunoo, as he did threatened to melt his golden skates before.

Will Sunoo confess?

Enhyphen Main Chat

Today 15:00

Sunghoon⛸️: SUNOO STOP BEING A COWARD AND COME OUT

Jake🐶: What the fuss now? Hoon, just play along with Sunoo. He will stop annoying you

Niki🕺: Hoon, mad? Finally this is getting fun

Sunghoon⛸️: THAT SUNSHINE DID THE UNFORGIVABLE

Niki🕺: Calling you ugly?

Sunghoon⛸️: No worse! FYI Niki you can never look like me

Jungwon🐈‍⬛: Now now Sunghoon, I’m sure it is misunderstanding

Sunghoon⛸️: IT IS SUNOO

Sunghoon⛸️: COME OUT AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN

Sunoo☀️: Why would I come out? I’m in middle of my pampering session

Sunoo☀️: FYI, you are ruining the vibe

Sunoo☀️: OOOO guys look what I got! I got this golden necklace, I’m gonna name it Belinda

Sunoo☀️: I made this myself, isn’t it amazing!

Sunghoon⛸️: Yahhhh, Sunoo how could you do this to me

Sunoo☀️: What?

Sunghoon⛸️: I’m telling appa, what you done!

Jungwon🐈‍⬛: What an earth is going on here?

Jake🐶: We all confused here Uncle

Jake🐶: Sunoo must have done something bad, to get Sunghoon worked up like that

Niki🕺: oooo sunoo hyung getting in trouble. This is the best day ever

Jungwon🐈‍⬛: Niki, stop beefing with Sunoo pleaseee

Jay🤑: SUNOO YOU GET YOUR BUTT HERE

Jay🤑: This is too slow, I tell it on here

Jay🤑: Why did you melt you brother golden ice skate! You know it is his most prized possession

Sunoo☀️: I didn’t touch his trashy ice skate in the first place. I have my limits you know 

Jake🐶: Uncle-

Jay🤑: Not now Jake

Sunghoon⛸️: YOU DID, NO ONE KNOWS THE LOCATION EXPECT FOR US

Sunghoon⛸️: Also how conveniently you got a gold necklace and said you made it yourself

Jake🐶: I really don’t think sunoo did it-

Sunghoon⛸️: SUNOO YOU MELTED THEM SO YOU CAN HAVE THAT NECKLACE IT WORTH 24k gold

Sunoo☀️: One, I made it myself as I went to the jewellers to get to specifically made. Plus 24k too heavy for me

Sunoo☀️: Two, I can easily ask Appa to get me solid gold if I wanted to. Melting gold seeems ew

Sunghoon⛸️: I’m not buying it

Jay🤑: Sunghoon, Sunoo did went to the jewellers. I asked the driver

Heesung🦌: What’s up! Oh Sunghoon you left your skates at my home again. When I took you and Jake to the ice rink last week

Jake🐶: That what I have been trying to you all this whole time😭😭

Sunghoon⛸️: Oh yeah, now I remember. Ooooopsie…so how’s the weather heh heh

Jay🤑: How many times did I tell you not to bring that skate around

Sunghoon⛸️: but I love them! It has best aerodynamic when jumping

Sunoo☀️: Hoonie, what do you say to me?

Sunghoon⛸️: I’m not apologising to you. Not gonna give you the satisfaction

Niki🕺: Yo go hyung tell that sunshine brat

Jungwon🐈‍⬛: Niki, it’s time for your dance practice

Niki🕺: In a sec, this is getting juicy

Sunoo☀️: You falsely accused me and made huge fuss what an embarrassment! Isn’t that right appa?

Jay🤑: Sunoo, does have a point! You did managed to embarrass us

Jake🐶: It kinda your fault though. You blamed sunoo straight away without him explaining himself

Jake🐶: I think you should apologise to him, for your sake

Sunghoon⛸️: Fine, I’m sorry for causing a fuss and accusing sunoo. Happy?

Sunoo☀️: I will be happy if help to clean my gold collection

Sunghoon⛸️: Get the cleaner to do it, that what they here for

Sunoo☀️: Fine, I get to choose the next house appa buys. You chose last time. That mountain house is so ewww the lighting

Sunghoon⛸️: Fine

[panopticon-entertainment]

I Am

Mile ∞ tells the story of an old woman, Eve, who cares for the freeway exit/entrance at the end of the world. From her daily routine to a gift from a god, Eve tells of the pieces of ∞ that led her to greatest accomplishment. The story is told in four parts: “The End of the World is a Freeway Exit.”, “The Last Rest Stop on Earth.”, “The Mile Man.”, and “I Am.”

Listen on Youtube & Spotify - https://youtu.be/2URUd8PeAjw?si=t6zP5z9BdChTIJ2y

___________________________________________________

Sunday (Week one)

It has been a long time since I have written about myself. Today, I was searching for that day I planted the pear tree. See, today, Forever began road construction on I-∞, and I thought that seemed redundant. It could not have been long ago that this was done, right? The last set of road construction inspired me to try and make some sort of novel with all my ramblings; I would be a lousy novelist. I only, well, you know how much I wrote prior. I thought it would make something of the end of my life. Oh well. The road construction had just concluded when I began: days before the Mile Man and ∞ met on my lawns.

I am amazed to say it has been many years since the Mile Man’s departure.

I thought with all the records I keep; I would have a better sense of myself. However, I suppose that just cut time in half, living a moment twice at least. Here again at the dawn of road construction, I ought to editorialize the life I lead if I am going to reexperience it anyway. This way I will not forget myself.

It is Sunday evening. I am waiting to go see my Mimes. Tomorrow, I will mow.

Monday

Summer flowers went up today, and, no, I do not mean any earthly flower. Traffic cones! Forever’s crew blocked the first lane today. She must have new workers for they placed the cones poorly. They do not line up, nor are they near enough to block any car. They best feel lucky the Living cannot access I-∞. Wait until a Jumper makes it past my grass and plummets into all of Forever’s fresh asphalt. I have not seen Forever myself yet.

Tuesday

I nicked the pear tree with my weed eater today. I feel just horrid. I mow such a wide ring around it as to not disturb the low branches. The pear tree is my most prized possession. The pears are pure white, unlike any other species of pear I have ever seen. In all these years, I have let no one taste of it. To do so would be to invoke the highest. No. No one can touch it. Not even innocent insects nor peckish birds. Silly things, I have a whole garden for you!

Thursday

They tore up a portion of asphalt today on I-∞. I am troubled about the asphalt near my grass; when will it  be demolished? The crew did not care much about getting the chunks cleanly in the truck.

Sunday (Week two)

I reread my entry on my Mimes. I must say I disappoint myself. I have learned no more about the duo. I still cannot tell what kind of eternal show they perform. To be frank, I have no recollection of those thoughts about their nature; I have just been consuming their presence. My projections–My editorializing dreams have forgotten what is on the page. I am disappointed with myself.

Wednesday

It is odd to me the things young Short-Timers will do once they receive their ticket for the Caravan. I think that with nothing left to lose, their true natures come out. Their reckless inner desires nevered acted upon as a Living finally fulfilled before their journey to the Beyond. What would I do if I had nothing to lose? When I get my turn on the Caravan, I certainly will not riot against the End.

I came to the exit today to find my road signs graffitied. Graffiti on the bridge is typical, but the signs? I do not want ∞ to be guided by filth—especially such vulgar and human filth. I worry any chemicals will ruin the reflective properties or simply wash away the printing. I scrubbed with water for a bit on the U-Turn sign, but to no avail. I left a message on the trash for the Caravan driver that new signs are required.

Short-Timers are odd. I suppose I am one of them. For all intents and purposes, I am a Short-Timer. 

I am, am I not?

Thursday

I have been fighting a dry spot of grass on Section 3. 

Saturday

My errand boy came today while I was cleaning my RV. He is very young. He sat at my table and talked my ear off. His skeleton is misshapen. After he left, I made potato soup.

Tuesday (Week three)

An exciting day! By exciting, I mean troublesome. A Jumper crashed onto section four today trying to race to the Beyond; they were only a few yards from undried asphalt. This happens occasionally, and it always mucks up my grass! Vehicled Jumpers are usually thrill seekers or the Debted trying to beat the End to the finish line. These ones died on impact. A duo—the Debted. I sheltered them at my garden while we awaited the Caravan. One took a bunch of grapes, and one took a banana. They told me something about a bad deal they had made; I must relisten to the recording.

Paper, can you keep a secret? I like to take trinkets from the Jumper’s vehicles. Funny keys, lanyards, scent trees, and other little cute things. This car had cash—riches like I have never seen before, and, well, money is just paper.

Wednesday

As suspected, the road workers got ground asphalt in my grass. I saw them doing it, but I did not see Forever. It is useless to try and talk to these dolts. I will have to bring a rake on Friday.

Saturday

Today, I did something I have not done in all of the years since the Mile Man’s departure: I braved the End’s crusty, halogen lit city. I have hired various Short-Timers to do my business for me, but today it felt right; I had a mission becoming of the Living. I bought as many cameras as I could scour. I am to continue what I once started. I am going to find the answers to my what ifs.

Sunday (Week Four)

Now, there is not an inch of the Last Rest Stop my lenses cannot see.

Monday

This dry patch confounds me. Fertilizer has not taken; water has not either. I will be planting seed anyway when I fix the ruts the Jumpers left; I will tear this section up and try again.

Tuesday (Morning)

I do not usually walk recreationally at the top of the week anymore.. I was so frustrated by that dry spot; I went out well past midnight to decompress. The only others I ever see at these late hours are my creatures of maybe.

There is a quiet area among a sea of rose bushes where the distant Exit Zero is visible via the haze of streetlights that run parallel with that dark and infinite road. With the stars above and a bright moon, not even the frustration of road construction can overshadow the lovely and calming sight. Whenever I am upset, I always plant my feet here. I have never shared this with anyone; it is mine alone.

I was hit on the way back. I was knocked to the ground. He helped me up.

He apologized, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect to see anyone out here.”

I asked him what a young man like himself was doing here.

He told me, “I, uh, just moved into the RV park.”

Ah, a Short-Timer. He had a face that looked like a hundred other faces I had seen before. Not unattractive but simply an arrangement of common genes.

I told him to look out for the Mimes.

He nodded, “again, I’m so sorry. I’ll make sure to look up more. Have a good night.”

I made sure he knew all was forgiven. I said goodnight; he carried on.

Thursday

I received grass seed today. I cannot fix any ruts until I get mulch or dirt from the Matter Mobile. However, I did rake up more asphalt the road crew deposited on my grass. I saw Forever; she did not acknowledge me.

Friday

I have found my cameras do not pick up the Mimes very well. Pictures are decidedly the best option. They, however, catch other things just swell. There is a couple who likes to touch each other in a ‘hidden’ area. Tourists’ favorite thing to do is steal flowers. The Short-Timer’s walk the path most often to speak ill of others. Autumn walks at the most peculiar times.

Tuesday (Week Five)

I desired to talk to the Caravan driver about the road signs, but I did not get a chance to. They were in such a hurry to get to the world; something must have happened.

Wednesday

I have been pondering on something: My freezer is full of pears, and many of my cabinets are filled just the same with jam. I am considering investing in this horse trailer I saw for sale in the grocery store parking lot. I can get a bigger freezer. Oh, writing is the most wonderful thing; it is decided, I shan’t waste a single piece of ∞’s gratitude. I have only seen her distant chariot since.

Maybe, I am being preserved for Godhood. Mayhap that is why my time on these lands has not been very short.

Thursday

I passed Autumn again. He finds beauty in the end; I can tell he is rare.

Saturday

I bought the trailer.

Saturday (Week Six)

I bought the freezer.

Sunday (morning) (Week Seven)

The pears glow blue. They always glow blue! Putting them in the new freezer I discovered they glow blue; I just cannot always see it. What other things can I not always see? How does ∞ see the world? Does she see more vibrant colors? Does she see all things like the Mimes? I want to see too! I want to see everything like her. I am going to eat one; I am going to accept ∞’s gift.

Monday (Morning)

Woah.

Monday (Week Eight)

Paper, I am sorry it has been so long. I need to fill you in on many details.

I dug into the dry spot; I found the issue. There is a large root underneath—the central area for my “wildflower” patches on section three. It fascinates me. The nearest flower patch is towards the road about fifteen of my paces away, and the next in the center thirty paces. However, many patches in this area are connected and fed by this parasitic root. I have been debating how to proceed for if I remove the root the patches will burn up. In writing this, I have decided it; I will take out the root and rip out the flowers. Practicality over beauty. If I nursed this too long, who knows what problems it could lead to. I will not have my perfect grass ruined.

And, oh, this construction crew. I caused problems with them, I did. They were trying to drive wheels on my grass Monday. I stopped mowing and parked the machine right behind them and watched. They waited and waited for me to move, but I was not going to let them. They did not need to turn around; they could have driven in reverse. They understood my intention eventually. Did I have this much trouble with the construction the last time this occurred?

I cannot remember. I worry sometimes pieces of myself are slipping away without me noticing. At least this follied crew has a manager and even co-workers. Oh, well, that is what paper is for.

Oh, and I took care of the ruts from where those debted jumpers crashed. The grass is already beginning to grow like nothing ever happened. The new road signs also came in. I will put them up tomorrow before I begin weed eating. I may not be able to finish that, but I cannot stand the sight any longer. I have no instruction on what to do with the old ones.

It has been an eventful week. I hate to write such a jarringly long entry. I am just not feeling quite right.

Tuesday

My errand boy boarded the Caravan today, but I have a replacement in mind.

Wednesday

There was little trash today, so, again, I focused on my wildflower issue. I dug more dirt from the root but did not sever it yet. I must, I know. If the flowers burn up, they will be simple to erase, but these particular weeds are so lovely: green and yellow pansies. I will cut them off. Soon.

Saturday

Autumn lives on the other side of the R.V. park.

I stopped him on his way to the path, and asked him for help moving around things in my trailer. I told him I had been preparing to build storage units in the stalls. I said I needed help moving the freezer. 

He said, “Sure, yeah.”

I have made the stalls more distinct from each other. So, that when Autumn is given friends, they cannot get to know each other too well.

I had to gag Autumn when my new errand boy—a child here with his mother—came with our groceries.

I worry Autumn will starve. He will not eat anything I give to him—not even a pear.

Wednesday (Week Nine)

I told a lie. I did not put up the signs Tuesday. I put them up today! I removed the old signs Tuesday but did not have the energy to assemble. I think I will hang the old signs in the trailer for Autumn’s benefit; he seems obsessed with I-∞.

Thursday

I came home upset today: a Jumper put wheels over my garden. My berry bushes destroyed! 

I made sure Autumn ate today. I had to tie up his hands. I found a dozen punches to the head will get him to comply.

I fed him by hand. A beef and cheese sandwich, cranberry juice (self-made), and his first pear.

Friday

I finally cut up the roots. I threw the weeds on drying asphalt.

Saturday

I bathed Autumn today. I put a metal wash tub in the end of the trailer. I do not have much more room for things.

I told him he must take off his clothes, so they may be washed. I had my errand boy buy him more comfortable attire. He fought me. I held his face underwater, and then he did not fight me anymore. I understand his reluctance now.

He has a brand. 

A sort of crown tattooed above his left pec. He is very badly scarred. He must have been shot; there is a hole through his heart.

As I bathed him, I asked him to tell me of his life as a Living.

He remained silent. I held his nose and mouth shut for almost a minute. 

I asked him again to tell me.

He instead said, “I should be gone. Don’t make me keep living.”

I told him he was special; I told him he was better than death.

He said, “What are you? Who are you to not know who I am and still punish me. Who are you that has this right?”

Who am I?

I am sure I told him who and what I am, but at this moment I cannot recall with what I replied.

I bathed him, dressed him, and tied up only his arms and laid him to rest.

I have eaten over a dozen pears now.

Thursday (Week Ten)

It seems like all this writing has manifested trouble. I am doing my best to salvage my berry bushes, but it is shaping up to be a lost cause. Simply smoothing these ruts out has been a pain. I asked my errand boy to buy seeds. Things like this happen. Plants are not for eternity. Still, these bushes served me well. I shall miss them.

Sunday (Week Eleven)

My Autumn is much more compliant; he eats. I have fed him several pears. I must gag him constantly for at night he dreams vividly. I have him tell me of them.

I keep his dreams in a notebook just like I keep the Mimes. Today, he told me something interesting.

He told me, amidst conversation, “Well, I am dreaming of people I’ve never met before. Usually, the brain can’t make up faces.

I have not told him I am designing his dreams yet.

I asked him more about his previous dream. I asked him how well he felt he knew these people.

He said, “Well, with the mom person, uh in the dream it felt like she was my mother like I had known her perfectly my entire life.”

I ate another pear after I left Autumn to rest.

This must be how ∞ creates gods.

Tuesday

I am actually quite fond of the product of the road construction. The team is improving. I think it really is wonderful that I-∞ is maintained so well. No matter how close to the end you are, you should never stop improving. There is not a thing insignificant enough to not be cared for.

Wednesday

Ever since I tore up that root, I am daily finding more dying flowers. I suspected three, maybe four patches, but I have found six. Six places I need reseed. Maybe, I should not have been so hasty.

Thursday

I put Autumn on a leash, and took him for a walk last night; pets are supposed to be on leashes here. The Mimes are very clear to us now. I need to get somebody for Autumn to play with.

Friday

The new berry bushes have taken. It will be some time before they begin fruiting, but I am patient. I have jam still. I brought some to the garden in case a Jumper or Traveller desires it. 

The summer flowers are gone, and so is Forever’s crew.

Saturday

I am on my way to godhood; I can control Autumn’s dreams.

Sunday (Week Twelve)

I forced Autumn asleep for twenty-four hours. I drafted a story. It was a fantasy story in which he could duplicate himself. I prescribed the given circumstances, the characters around him and let him explore fully.

When he awoke, I had to beat his vision out of his mouth. I recorded his words and wrote them verbatim. But for all intents and purposes, he experienced a new life as I commanded it.

I revealed to him what I have done. He went mad for a moment. He tried to run, fight, and hide. I whipped him until he bled.

He rambled out the same sentiments. He said, “My story is over! I can’t do anymore; I should be gone. One life was too much. I can’t—do not make me do anymore!”

I gagged him.

I burnt off the brand his own life gave him and opposed to it carved a new one: my repeat sign.

I told him to quiet down; there was no need for him to tire himself crying and struggling. I said that everyone craves the chance to live again; he should be grateful I chose him.  I told him I would ungag him if he would stop moaning about serving a God.

He seemed complaint, so I ungagged him. He said to me, “you are no God.”

I struck him. If the road construction crew could learn, so can he. I told him I am his god.

“Then of what? What are you? Whose hell am I in?”

I have been worried about my memory. I have been worried that I cannot be as active as I once was. I started writing because I worry why I am still here at I-∞. He asked these things so many times before, and I do not think I ever gave him an answer.

Today, I knew. It is all so clear.

I told him: I am Everything.

[erinelliotc]

"Double D is able to maintain his unreal organized system only because he's set on a daily routine".

YES!!! (I'm going to write a lot, so forgive my bad English).

When I was analyzing Double D and comparing him to me (because I identify deeply with him and personally I believe that an adult version of Double D would be a lot like me), one of the things that came to my mind was: "If I had parents who were never at home and I had the whole house to myself, I would also be able to maintain a very organized system and an established routine just the way I would like, which already happens when my mother travels. But as I live with my mother (who's retired and a bit chaotic) and my routine is constantly disrupted, I'm not able to do that and chaos takes over. I think it's the same with him". (At least I'm able to keep my virtual environment organized. I mean, it's not like my physical environment is a big mess, I still have things in their right place and I always know where they are if no one has moved them, but it could still be better).

I've said before that I headcanon Double D as autistic, and autistic people really need routine, but breaks in our routine are very overwhelming and disturbing. This is my main reason for not having an established routine, because the stress of having my routine constantly broken is worse than having no routine at all. Having a routine would be better for me and my own well-being and would help me function better, of course, and not having a routine is still stressful, but I can't stand it when my routine is broken, so I force myself to not have one as a coping mechanism to survive in a chaotic world.

Double D visibly has a hard time maintaining his rituals and things organized when he's not in a stable place because he's easily affected by things around him, and he's easily affected by the lack of stability and predictability (and he also tends to prioritize others' desires above his own in order to please others and not be a nuisance, as we can see with him, for example, enduring unsanitary situations for his friends), and his summer with Ed and Eddy was very chaotic for him, which messed with his routine and consequently with his head. In Episode "Out with the Old, In with the Ed", Double D's getting ready to go back to school. He checks his supplies, then "The paper clips. I've forgotten the paper clips! Oh, curse those months of unrecommended Summer irrationality!".

In "Cleanliness Is Next to Edness" (I'm not a big fan of this episode, but I think it's still a good example to illustrate what I'm saying), Double D has a big break in his routine: he needs to take a shower and out of nowhere his bathroom disappeared. Now, I know he acts rather stupid in this episode as he could've easily solved the problem by building him a shower, but otherwise there wouldn't have been an episode (just as Eddy says, "What? And ruin the plot?") and I personally think his stupidity is justifiable. Double D's very obsessive about cleanliness, and when he's under a lot of stress, when he becomes very anxious, nervous and scared, he tends to lose the ability to be rational and logical, being led only by his anxiety and fear. Anyway, Double D was shocked by this break in his routine: his parents decided to renovate the bathroom without telling him anything and (probably...? At this point I really can't tell how much they know their own son) knowing how obsessed he is about cleanliness and how much he's affected by changes and disruptions in his routine/rituals, not letting him prepare psychologically for this inconvenience and unforeseen event (not to mention that he enters the bathroom and almost falls from the second floor, like, for heaven's sake??? How can they not warn something like that??). The combo of not being able to take his ritualistic shower + feeling invisible because of his parents not giving a shit and treating him like he didn't exist has affected him deeply. He desperately tries to find a way to get things under control, keep his routine and shower, one of his precious daily rituals (he probably always showers at the same time of day), and the more time passes and the dirtier he gets, the more he loses his mind. When he feels that chaos has taken over and that it'll be impossible to take a shower, he surrenders to the chaos and embraces the dirt to put an end to his stress. As I said, giving up on having a routine and embracing chaos can be less stressful than having your routine broken. I mean, your routine won't be broken if you don't have any routine (stonks).

A small compilation of my very correct eene HCs confirmed by Danny Antonucci himself