#onto wig styling i guess

[arsenicflame]

shes finally coming together!! still got a bunch of hand work to do on the blouse and corset, and of course, style the wig, but annes gonna be ready for mcm next weekend!

[tsuutarr]

Yandere!childhood friend x reader

“Hey, can I talk to you?” a classmate in one of your university classes calls out. He’s blushing, looking completely flustered. You’d have found it cute, really, but there are several factors that make you want to groan.

One, you’re not in a good mood right now. And two–

“You’re friends with that pretty girl, right? Jieun? Uhm. Can I get her number?”

He’s not confessing to you. 

You bite back a sigh. “Look, I can’t just give out my friend’s number like that–”

“But–”

“Darling!” you’re interrupted as someone clings onto your arm. They intertwine their fingers with yours, giving your classmate an icy smile. “I’m so sorry, but we have plans.”

“Oh, t–that’s fine!” your classmate exclaims, voice cracking. He looks at your friend, completely enamored. “But, uh, can I get your–”

Before your classmate can finish his sentence, your friend has already dragged you away. 

Soon, you’re seated in a cute coffee shop your friend had found earlier that week.

“I can’t believe that guy was confessing to you,” your friend scoffs, taking a sip of their matcha latte. “You’re so out of his league.”

“He was actually asking me for your number,” you respond, making your friend’s eyes widen.

“Me?” There’s genuine surprise on your friend’s face as they clasp their manicured hands. “Well, I suppose my makeup skills are pretty amazing.”

“Yeah, it’s always surprising that you can go from Jiu to Jieun and back so easily.” 

And you mean it – your childhood friend, Jiu Oh, has built up his life as his father’s perfect son. Yet, at the same time, he has a secondary identity – Jieun – that he uses whenever he wants to indulge in cute things and fashion, things his father thinks no man should ever have an interest in.

“It’s pretty fun,” Jiu hums, twirling a long strand of his pink wig on his finger. His pretty lips stretch into a smile. “You should let me doll you up sometime, too. Only if you want to, though. You’re already beautiful as you are.”

You give him a bitter smile, a sigh leaving your lips. “If only my ex-boyfriend thought that, too…”

Jiu gasps. “You guys broke up?”

“Yeah.” With a few taps of your phone, you pull up the chat between you and another friend. There, right on the screen, is your ex-boyfriend on a date with a blonde woman.

“I can’t believe it. He cheated on you?” Jiu looks at you, his perfectly styled eyebrows furrowed. “I knew he was trash.”

“Yeah, you were right. I guess I just…” your voice drops to a whisper, making Jiu gently hold your hand.

“Aw, darling – it’s not your fault. It’s that trash’s fault for cheating on you.” Gently, he gives your hand a soft squeeze. “How about we hang out tonight? To take your mind off of things? We can watch your favorite movies and bake something? And I’ll do your nails!”

“...You know what, yeah. That sounds good,” you agree, feeling lighter. Time spent with Jiu is always fun, after all.

“Wonderful! I’ll prepare everything and text you when I’m ready!” Jiu grins. “Ooh, you’ll love the new bath bomb I got!”

His enthusiasm is infectious and you can’t help but smile. Yeah, who cares about your shitty ex when you have a great friend like Jiu?

What you don’t know, though, is that the blonde woman in the photo is Jiu. He had carefully orchestrated everything so that you’d break up with your boyfriend.

You also don’t know that he has tabs on you at all times – whether it’s by your phone or the people around you. You don’t know that the whole reason you got into your university in the first place is because of Jiu.

Jiu’s control over your life extends even beyond that, too. It’s impossible to know the full extent of the control he has over your life and maybe you never will – not when you’re his, anyway.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 4

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

CW: POV depiction of anxiety and dissociation, How It's Made, reader character wearing a wig (positive, protective style), Soap (nosy), mention of sex toys, Simon Riley Is Honesty Just A Big Guy (TM),

Simon and Price are gone for less than a minute before you feel awkward. You’re almost done with the water, so you look around for the TV remote. It’s Gaz, absurdly pretty for some kind of international British SWAT team, who hands it to you with a half smile before wandering off, you assume to the bathroom.

That leaves you clicking through the TV while Soap does something on his phone. All of the local channels are in German, you know, so you look for something to stream. You chance a sidelong glance at Soap, but he’s already looking at you. He grins when you make eye contact.

“So yer LT’s girl, then?”

Fuck, that’s not a question you know how to answer. “Um.”

“Leave it, Soap,” Gaz says, returning from the bathroom. He smiles at you as he pockets his phone. “You don’t have to tell us anything you’re not comfortable with. Lieutenant Riley’s a private person, we understand.”

“That’s… it’s okay.” You tap into the PictureTime channel, since it’s not one you usually have access to. As you browse through the educational options - ooh, How It’s Built! - you say, “I think we’re both… a bit surprised to see each other here.”

“I can’t imagine,” Gaz says, sitting down at the other end of the couch. “Oh, I’ve not seen this one on puzzles and cheesecake.”

You tap into it, because you like puzzles, cheesecake, candles, and paintbrushes. Just in time to finish your water bottle. The armchair is a bit narrow and awkward, so you wiggle the cushion from behind your back so you can plop it, and yourself, onto the ground. You shuffle your legs to start your warm up as the theme song plays.

“How'd'ye come to answerin’ LT like yer military?” Soap asks. “’Acknowledge’, ‘acknowledged’, all o’ that?”

“Oh,” you answer, without thinking about it. “That’s just our protocol, to make sure I understand his directions.”

“’E’s givin’ you enough directions to need protocols?” He gives you a considering once-over. “Interestin’. Impressive that it held up in an emergency. That takes practice.”

Shit. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“’S he your, what’er they called? Dominant partner, then?”

God, Simon, why didn’t you take this one with you? “I’m… not at liberty to say?”

“Leave her alone, Soap,” Gaz says, exasperated. He tosses a throw pillow at Soap’s head. “She’s in shock, Simon’s trying to keep her calm and comfortable.”

“Ghostie adopts a civilian an’ ah’m supposed to have nae questions?” Soap grins at you. “She’s got a signal if she dinnae want to talk. Four fingers, right?”

“Bother Ghost about it, later,” Gaz says. He turns to you. “Do you know what you want to eat? There’s a few places open.”

Soap doesn’t pester you, after that. The three of you settle on Mediterranean food, and then they summarily leave you alone. Gaz seems content to watch the show, though Soap watches you do your floor stretches curiously.

You could probably have moved to another stretch a while ago, but you’re still in your work slacks and blouse. You think longingly of the yoga pants you laid out on your bed before leaving for meetings. And then you cringe to think of Simon coming in to sweep through the room and pack up all of your things. You hadn’t packed a lot, but you’d unpacked into the space to make yourself comfortable.

You realize that your sex toy is charging in the bedside table and cringe. You hope he doesn’t notice it. It’s good quality, but you can always buy another one.

And then you start to worry about your phone. You’d left your personal in the room because of the time zone change slowing down all of your personal messages. You’d lost your work phone and computer today with… everything that happened. Were people trying to get a hold of you? Had news of the incident made it to the US? Would Simon see your embarrassing phone background?

You resist the urge to get up and pace. Instead, you settle into butterflying your legs.

“You need more water?” Gaz’s voice startles you, but you nod and he passes a bottle to you on the floor. “Cap says that they’re done with the official stuff, he’s grabbing food while Ghost grabs your things. Probably less than an hour before they get back.”

Your anxiety shouts that that isn’t enough time. But since you can’t definitively answer the question For what?, you take a breath and let it out slowly. “Okay.”

Maybe it’s because your heart is beating a little faster, muscles a bit warmer, but you have trouble settling Into the show. Your mind races. You have to remind yourself to relax, then have to clamber to your feet and shuffle off to the bathroom because you relaxed your pelvic floor a little too much.

Your eyes in the mirror are a little too wide. The wig - every time you wear a good one, you almost forget you’re wearing it - is holding up admirably, at least. It feathers around your face, a bit squished where you slept on it. But with the smudged eyeliner and mascara you can kind of pretend you’re in an action movie.

Thank goodness agent Ghost rescued me and the other hostages, you think to yourself, pouting your lips dramatically as you wash your hands.

The last time you washed your hands there was a dead body on the floor.

“Nope,” you say aloud, practically flinging yourself into the bedroom. “Nope. Nope.”

You pace in a tight circle, kicking the door closed when you catch Gaz and Soap looking at you with concerned eyes. Two circuits later, the room is too small, so you open the door again and shuffle out to sit in the armchair again, one leg pulled up for you to wrap your arms around.

Throwing your mind into action shots of specialty machinery, you try to force yourself to settle. Your whole body feels like it will shake apart if you pay too much attention to it, so you don’t pay it any attention at all. The episode ends and rolls into the next one, so you learn about bird cages and automated pharmacy drones. You hear Gaz say something soft, and Soap answers, the burr of his voice just as quiet, mixing pleasantly with the murmur of the narrator.

You must lose time, again, because the next thing you know, Simon is crouching in front of you again. Big hands smooth over your arms, and he shushes you as you jump.

“Got y’r stuff,” he says. “Where’s your head at?”

You open your mouth, close it. Hold up four fingers.

“Mm, day’s catchin’ up, again. Go into the bedroom, get changed. No zippers or clasps. Buttons okay. Acknowledge.”

“Bedroom, change clothes,” you confirm, heaving a big sigh. “Comfy. Acknowledged.”

He helps you stand, and you can’t help but tip forward to put your face into his chest. He smells a little. Like stale sweat and gunpowder. His arms stop yours when they come up for an automatic hug.

“Go change,” he whispers into the top of your head, “An’ I’ll get rid of the rest of ‘em, eh?”

The haze around you pops. That’s the only way to describe it. One minute, everything is distantly fuzzy, and the next thing you know you can feel the circulation of the air in the room and his heartbeat against your forehead. The TV is quieter, and you can hear Price and Gaz and Soap talking between themselves.

“Acknowledged,” you say into his sternum. “Gotta go change.”

He has to gently guide you around his bulk. But eventually you shuffle back into the bedroom. Your suitcase is waiting for you in the far corner, and it doesn’t take you long to dig out your lounge wear. Soft, thin pants with cartoon dogs on them and an oversized tee you got from a fundraiser. And then you take both off because that’s not sexy.

Why didn’t I pack nicer stuff? Can I play off these lacy panties as sleep wear? He saw it all and packed it, he probably clocked those as the only sexy thing I have. You shake your head at yourself. He said to wear something comfortable. He knows what you have. This is fine.

Your friend’s son’s basketball mascot grins up at you. You decide to compromise and switch the shirt for a black cami you usually wear under a nice blouse.

When you peek out of the room, Simon’s in the middle of the couch, and he’s blocked one end by dragging the table closer to where he’s sitting. His jeans have been traded for black sweats, but you can’t tell if his black shirt is new or not. Somehow, he looks bigger, but in a nice way. Softer. If a brick shit-house could look soft. A brick book nook.

“’Ey, pretty girl,” he says, leaning enough to put an arm across the back of the couch. “Come sit, we’re gonna eat and then we’re gonna talk.”

When you get close, you realize that there’s not enough room for both of you to sit unless you’re half on top of him.

You want to throw yourself entirely into his lap. But you can smell the food now, and you’re so hungry. So you perch as much of your ass on the couch as you can and swing your legs over one of his. You meet his eyes just as his arm comes down across your thighs. His hand cups the outside of your leg in a way that makes you remember what he said.

He’s not letting you go, now.

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 2: Roleplay - Ghostface!Steve Harrington

Summary: It had been your idea to dress up for Halloween as characters from Scream but what happens when you forget it’s Steve under the mask.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, consensual non-consent (CNC), roleplay, fear play, mask kink, being chased, discussion of safe words, groping, fingering, edging, hair pulling, rough sex, hand over mouth, creampie

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

“I think I'm getting old”, came the frustrated grumble from your tired, fussy boyfriend Steve Harrington. His words weren’t boisterous as he muttered them under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck and staring down at the costume laid out for him on the bed.

Not reacting to him immediately, you continue applying the eyeshadow to your eyelid, smiling as you peeked at him in the mirror, his hands resting on his hips. Biting your lip to refrain from grinning or laughing, you innocently asked, “Why’s that Stevie?”

“Because I don’t want to go to this stupid party! I just wanna stay in and watch movies”. Steve began running his fingers through his recently washed hair, the ends curling gently over the tips of his shoulders but fluffy in texture as he had yet to style it with spray and gel.

You placed your brush on the dressing table and gave him your full attention in the mirror's reflection. “It's not a stupid party; it’s a Halloween party! There’s a difference”, you say enthusiastically to try and perk up his spirits. Steve continued to look down at the bed, only raising an eyebrow in a half-ass attempt at showing his excitement, so you turned on your stool, facing directly towards him. Sighing forcefully, you stood and approached with long, sweeping steps. “Come on! It’s only this one party, and then we can stay in for the rest of the year!” Trying to use all your manipulative tactics to sweeten him up. Fluttering your eyelashes up at him, your arms circled his waist, lifting his strong arms to settle over your shoulders.

Steve finally managed to tear his gaze away from the costume and towards you, but only so he could dramatically pout out his full bottom lip, his long, thick eyelashes curling up and nearly stroking his eyebrows as you melted into his warm coffee-coloured eyes. He was so handsome, and he didn’t even have to try.

Your nimble fingers slid beneath his shirt to feel the soft skin of his hips as you continued to try and elevate his excitement, “It’ll be fine, Steve, I promise”. Lifting onto your tiptoes, you captured his pouted lips with a brief, sweet kiss.

“It’s just not the same as they used to be. Are you sure you don’t want me to drive us there so it’ll save us some time to get back home again?” Steve asked as his hands smoothed over your bare shoulders, pulling you flush against his body and his warmth seeping into your skin.

You pulled away a step to give him a deadpan look, “It’s only a block away. I’m sure you’ll survive, and anyway, if you hate it, we can leave at any point”.

“Promise?”

“I promise, but we are still going. I’ve spent way too much money on the costumes to let them go to waste”, you explain whilst pulling out of his hold and sitting back in front of the mirror to continue finishing your makeup.

Steve’s attention returned to his costume, picking up the black cloak and white mask and holding it out in front of him. “Ok, I can take a quick guess as to who I’m dressing up as, but who are you supposed to be?”

You were still in your underwear, but to show him who you meant, you quickly flicked on the shoulder-length blonde wig and turned to him. “I’m Casey Becker, you know, Drew Barrymore, the girl that got killed at the start of Scream. I’m her after your Ghostface character kills me”, you explain whilst pointing to the wool cream jumper covered in splotches of deep red fake blood to match the stains on your neck and chest.

“Right”, Steve mutters before chewing on his lip, fingers once more returning to stroke through his hair before he reluctantly moves to the bathroom to continue getting ready, costume in hand.

You smiled triumphantly to yourself and continued getting ready, dressed in the simple jeans and once-cream jumper now decorated with fake stab wounds.

Waiting impatiently for Steve, with your arms crossed and foot tapping on the floor, you gently knocked on the bathroom door, asking, “You ready in there, Ghostface?”

As if he was waiting for you, the door swung open almost immediately, making you jump back on instinct, but the sight before you caused a deep warmth to flush through your body. The white scream mask was resting on the top of his head, pushing his hair out of his eyes so you could still see his face, but seeing Steve in the black cloak was doing something erotic to your body; you knew this outfit would be the right decision. 

Steve's mouth opened as if he was going to say something, but he noticed how you shifted your weight from one foot to another, watching your eyes unfocus as they travelled up the length of his lean body, and he knew that you were becoming aroused. Confidence pumped through his veins as his spine straightened so he could pump his chest out slightly before casually leaning against the door frame, his ankle crossed over the other.

“Let me guess, you’re into this? You little freak”, he trailed off as he visually inspected your costume. Even though it wasn’t revealing anyway, his pupils expanded as he bit his lip hungrily.

Blinking quickly and shaking your head, you tried to snap your attention back to him and not all of the nasty thoughts of him wearing this costume whilst pleasuring you. Glancing away from him, you tried to remain casual and calm, “I don’t know what you mean, Harrington. Come on, let’s go, we’re already late”.

The two of you walked in the moonlight, the streetlights blinking from being faulty, but that didn’t stop the two of you from swinging your clasped hands between your bodies. Steve still had his mask pushed up onto his head so that he could watch his step and still look towards you and his vision not be distorted.

“So what is it that you like? Is it the violence? The costume? The evilness? The murder”, he extended the last word as he dipped his face and knocked his forehead against your cheek as you pushed him away laughing.

You didn’t answer him, but he was sure to have noticed how warm your face was and the unsubtle looks you were giving him from the corner of your eye. To be frank, you were near enough drooling over him in the slash killer costume. You weren’t sure what it was; maybe you were falling into the fantasy, knowing the character was a psycho killer but had your beautiful boyfriend's face, knowing he wouldn’t hurt you but still looked scary and murderous.

Steve continued talking, not phased by your silence, “Maybe I should wear this costume when we get home, especially as it’s getting you so hot and bothered. I haven’t seen you like this since I was in my scoops ahoy sailors outfit”. His sizeable, warm hand squeezed yours to show he was teasing as his shoulder bumped into yours.

“Will you stop it? We’re nearly there, and then you can go and annoy someone else”, you say matter-of-factly.

Steve scoffs, “Why would I want to do that when I seem to be doing such a good job of annoying you?”. Without missing a beat, he released your hand, but only so he could wrap his arms around your waist to spin you around on the spot, causing you to scream out and kick your legs to try and make him put you down.

“Steve, stop!” you laughed despite the harshness of your tone. Thankfully, when he finally placed you back onto your two feet, he kissed your lips, then returned to holding your hand and tugging you along for the rest of the journey towards the party.

Once the two of you had arrived, he kept his mask down, which was where you became even more confused and momentarily forgot that it was Steve and not a random guy. Especially as he kept quietly stalking up next to you, and after a few times of you jumping in freight, he found his new favourite game for the night; the drinking and the dancing were not his priority with his plans for the night.

Steve even managed to sneak into the bathroom as he overheard you saying to Robin that you were about to go and use it. He hid behind the shower curtain, waiting for you to use the toilet before sliding behind your warm body as you washed your hands, his hands caging around you, forcing your hips into the countertop.

You screamed in fright as his mask hovered close to the shell of your ear. “What’s your favourite scary movie?” he asked, trying to use a low voice to copy the movie.

For a second, you forgot it was Steve, the thumping from your heart showing your anxiety until it all returned to you. Glaring at him in the mirror whilst clutching your chest, you chastised him, “Steve! You scared the fucking shit out of me, stop doing that!”

Steve only laughed at your reaction, loosening his hold around you enough that you could turn in his arms and push up his mask to see his hair wet from sweat sticking to his forehead and a broad smile across his handsome face.

“Sorry baby, I didn’t mean to scare you; it’s only me! Anyway, I don’t know why you keep freaking out; you’re the one who wanted me to wear this outfit”.

You were about to continue telling him off when he cut you off with a simple press of his lips against yours, lingering for a second and capturing your breath before pulling away, his lids heavy as he stared at the area where you were both just connected. He always knew how to win you around again, and you instantly found yourself forgiving him for the jump scare.

Gently you shoved his chest before gripping a handful of the black cloak, mumbling, “Asshole, I thought we were supposed to be a team”.

Steve’s gloved fingers tipped your chin so you’re forced to look up at him as he gave you a condescending head tilt. “Aww, you don’t have to be scared of me, Princess. I won’t hurt you. Unless that’s what you want, hmm?” his voice lowered as he pushed his body further against yours, his chest brushing against yours as his face dropped closer. He was so close that you could smell the beer on his breath, and you were entirely ready to fall into whatever he had planned, which, with the look he was giving you, was something naughty.

However, all of your hopes and dreams for having a quick fuck were destroyed as Steve dramatically bellowed, “Maybe I’ll gut you like a fish! Blah”, he began to act out, stabbing your stomach with the retractable plastic knife that was a part of the costume.

A heavy sigh left your mouth as you rolled your eyes, pushing past him as he pretended blood was spurting out of your middle, mimicking actions and being his usual goofy self. Usually, you’d be laughing with him. Still, damn, you were distracted and highly hopeful for the other things you had planned, slightly disappointed that he hadn’t gone through with them, especially as you were only seconds away from sinking to your knees and submitting to him.

The party continued for a few more hours, and Steve was more than ready to leave; having stopped drinking at midnight, he was getting to the end of his social battery. You were, too, so the two of you, thankfully, exited the silent streets hand in hand. You looked significantly different from when you’d arrived; the wig was missing as others had been trying it on, and now, it had disappeared, and the make-up and fake blood had mostly sweated off from your brief stints of dancing.

On the other hand, Steve still looked effortlessly beautiful, with his outfit still looking the same, but you were sure he must have been sweating under the thick, dark material.

Halfway home, your steps were abruptly halted as Steve stopped, patting over his clothes, looking for something, and cursing loudly when he couldn’t find it. “Shit, fuck! I left the keys at the party!”

“What! Steve, I’m not walking back there. Why did you even take them out of your pocket?!” you rub your tired eyes, frustrated and adamant that you wouldn’t walk the small distance back to the party.

Steve gave you an apologetic smile, and his lips pressed together firmly. “I’m sorry, babe, I’ll only be a minute; just wait here.” He turned and began jogging back to the party, around the corner and out of your sight.

Standing in the quiet Halloween night, the chill from the autumnal breeze ran more profound than just your skin as you became instantly unnerved by being on your own as the streetlamp at the end of the street continued to flick on and off. Rubbing your hands up and down your arms to try and keep yourself warm, you quietly whispered to yourself for Steve to hurry up, wanting nothing more than to be in bed with his arms wrapped around you.

“Come on, Stevie”, you pleaded under your breath, the warmth of it fogging in the air in front of your face. Dancing on the spot slightly, you moved your numbing fingers down your sides to slide them into your back pockets to steal some heat, but then they were interrupted by the cool metal of your door keys. “Shit!” you fumed, not remembering that you’d had the keys on you the entire time, and Steve didn’t forget them and had made a wasted trip.

Staring in the direction he’d left again, you internally cursed yourself, knowing that Steve would return pissed off and irritable with you. Deciding that it would probably save some time if you also returned to the party to find Steve, you took a single step back down the street, but a branch crack splintered through the air. Your head twisted toward the noise, but all you could see were twisting, endless shadows that even the occasional flash of the street light couldn’t illuminate.

Taking a deep breath to try and steady the nerves that were tremouring through your body, enough so that you clasped your fingers together to see if that would cease the movements. Maybe you were paranoid, but you could have sworn someone was watching. You wouldn’t even say it was paranoia anymore as you were sure someone was watching because the hairs along your arms and the back of your neck stood on end.

MybMaybe was just some drunken kids from the party or someone in one of the homes that lined the streets looking out of the window to see who was standing on the sidewalk. However, you couldn’t spot any curtains opening or see any drunken person stumbling with their steps.

You weren’t sure what to do; usually, when you felt uncomfortable or frightened, you would be with Steve, and he’d do anything to pull you out of the situation. You could run back to your home, but then you’d be there all by yourself, and then what would happen when Steve left the party to find that you weren’t waiting for him anymore? Maybe you could go back towards the party and meet Steve, but that also meant you’d be walking past the area where the loud noise had come from.

“Is anyone there?!” you shouted in the general direction of the noise, hoping it would draw people's attention or frighten off whoever was there.

“Don’t you watch scary movies? You’re never supposed to shout who’s there”. Out of the shadows creeped Ghostface, his mask down and the plastic knife in his gloved hand at his side.

Thankfully, for once, due to your body being on high alert, you instantly remembered that this was Steve and not a stranger and recognised his voice, which had been challenging to do at the party.

Clutching your chest, you sucked in a greedy breath, “Steve! You fucking scared me. Why the hell would you do that?” Steve didn’t respond. He just casually strolled forward, almost swaggering with his steps, masked head tilted slightly. Trying to calm your pounding heart, you nervously pulled the keys out of your back pocket to show him, I’ve got the keys. I’m sorry, I didn’t even know I had them in my jeans pockets”. You rambled on, the nerves continuing to take over your body as he didn’t say anything, just taking step after step towards you.

The keys in your hand rattled from your shakes, and finally, instinct took over as you took a giant step backwards, away from Steve. Your thoughts were all over the place. This was Steve; you could tell by the height and build, and it had been his voice that had spoken/ However, the way he was walking towards you like he was searching for his prey, his next victim, the thrill of it all gave you the wrong reaction, despite your fear, you were getting turned on by it.

Warmth bloomed in the apples of your cheeks that spread through your chest and deep into your abdomen, nipples pebbling beneath your jumper and rubbing against the inside of your bra. With each step that Steve took forward, you’d take one backwards, a game of cat and mouse ensuring. 

A moment of silence passed, the two of you just staring at one another, until he lifted his fake knife and your eyes were drawn to this as he drawled, “Aren’t you going to run, Princess?”

It was an automatic response, the flight or fight intuition kicking in as you immediately ran. You ran like there was an actual killer after you, adrenaline and fear pulsing through your veins that helped keep your instincts on high alert as you ran toward your home. Even though your home wasn’t far away, it still felt like an eternity of running, the muscles straining and chest burning from sucking cold air desperately as you finally collided with your front door.

You’d been unable to hear Steve close behind you, but you didn’t waste any time, fingers trembling as you pressed the key into the lock and turned, rushing inside, slamming the door closed, and flicking the lock.

You waited, listening and waiting for him to bang on the door, but only silence greeted you from outside and the thumping of your terrified heart and heavy breaths in your ear. Steve didn’t turn up; even as you looked through the door's peephole, he still wasn’t there, so you took a few steps away, frowning in confusion.

Then it dawned on you. The back door. The back door, where Steve knew where the keys were hidden in the plant pot.

Spinning quickly, your sneakers squeaked on the hardwood floor as you’d intended to run to the back door to check it was still closed, but a prominent dark figure blocked your route. Once again, you knew it was Steve, even from how he was breathing heavily, the outline of his broader form and the faint smell of his aftershave that you could smell now that he was closer.

You weren’t entirely sure how far he wanted to go with this playing around, but you were not going to ruin the moment and willing to see just what Steve had in mind.

Taking a shaky step backwards away from the figure, you lifted your hands, palms up in defeat. “My boyfriend will be home soon, and he’s big; he’ll kick your ass”, your voice wobbled, which was half put on by you but also a little bit truthful with the anticipation.

Ghostface chuckled lowly, his head tilting, and the dominance and lure of the sight had your insides clenching with need. 

“Oh, your boyfriend won’t be helping you tonight. No one will”, Steve stated confidently and didn’t give you any warning before he bolted forward. The rush caused you to jump and scream, turning and running in the opposite direction, but it was a useless attempt as his arms wrapped around your waist, pushing forward until you were flush against the wall, his chest hard against your back. You struggled and whimpered in his hold, trying to sound as desperate as possible, but Steve held firm but not enough to hurt.

The mark was next to your ear as he growled, “Now, where do you think you’re going, huh? I thought we could have some fun. What do you say?” You struggled against but mostly so you could grind your ass against his hips, showing him you wanted to keep playing.

However, your lack of words had your boyfriend freezing, the tone of his voice softening as he whispered, “Colour?”

Huffing out a laugh at his concern and momentary slip of the roleplay, you whispered against the wall, “Very fucking green”. You found it endearing that he still ensured you were okay and wanted to continue.

That seemed to be the last of the friendly acts, however, as Steve pushed harder against your body until your cheek was firm against the cool wallpapered wall, the plastic of his mask against the back of your neck. His gloved hands shifted lower over the front of your body, over the mounds of your breasts, your jumper-covered navel and past your hips until he was cupping your jean-covered cunt with a deep moan that rumbled against your back.

It was an automatic response to mewl and rolled your hips into the hold, feeling the pressure from your underwear digging into your clit but needing more. Your noises turned back into whimpers as his fingers quickly snapped over the button of your jeans, and his hand disappeared beneath the material until he was cupping you again, but this time directly to your skin. You pulled your hips away this time, but primarily because of the uncomfortable material; his gloves were cheap synthetic material and were rough against your sensitive, throbbing clit as his palm pressed against it.

Steve chuckled, the tips of his index and middle finger close to your entrance, and for a moment, you were worried he was going to finger you with the rough material; you weren’t sure it would feel nice, but this wasn’t what he was laughing at. “You’re such a desperate little thing aren’t you? I can feel how wet you are through the gloves”.

Your entire body warmed in embarrassment. You should have guessed that he would have felt how turned on you are, especially with how you could feel the slick gathered in your underwear, but you hadn’t considered him feeling it through the gloves.

Ghostface, always the one to tease and humiliate, then did something that had your gasps turning into surprise and shock. The pressure of his glove hand disappeared from between your legs, and from your position, you could see it disappear beneath his mask, where a sucking noise could then be heard as he devoured the juices from the fabric gloves.

“S-St-“ his name was on the tip of your tongue, mostly on instinct to submit to him by moaning his name, but you were also cut off by a deep, gravely groan as the man trapping you against the wall showed you just how much he loved your taste. His hips rolled against your lower back first, thrusting his clothed but painfully hard cock into you, then his hand reappeared from beneath the mask, but this time without the glove as he’d pulled it off with his teeth and dropped onto the floor.

“Why is it you always taste so much better when you’re scared?” he continues to taunt, and you knew it wasn’t a normal reaction, but your pussy clenched so hard that Ghostface had to wait a moment before he was able to push his fingers back into your underwear and his middle and ring finger penetrated your eagerly awaiting hole.

You rose onto your tip toes whilst attempting to back into him to rub yourself against him, but he held you firmly against the wall. His fingers did not waste any time either as they gathered the slick to coat the entire length of his two digits and pumped in and out with a slight curl as he pulled out.

Once more, it was on instinct that your hips were rocking to match his movements, pleasuring pounding into your core as your eyes closed, whimpers slipping from your parted lips that you wouldn’t be able to hold back even if you tried to What’s more the position was adding to the thrill, your hands sprayed and pressed against the cool wall, your cheek aching from the pressure of being pushed forward and the warm body surrounding your entire back with the plastic part of his masks against the back of your head as he rested his temple against you, watching and listening to every little noise that he caused you to make. 

Ghostface doesn’t stop pleasuring you, his fingers continuing to pump into you as his palm occasionally pressed firmly against your clit, adding more stimulation. You were a sopping wet mess that could feel that familiar tightening between your legs. Where his fingers curled, and strokes began to harden as your orgasm tingled on the very edge; just one or two more movements and you’d be right there.

But Ghostface knew you were getting to that point, could hear and see how close you were, and he wasn’t having that, not yet anyway, so he swiftly pulled his hand out of your underwear.

“Uh uh, I don’t think so. Did you really think I’d let you cum? Definitely not; where would be the fun in that?” he laughs to emphasise his mocking, making you feel degraded and mind-muddled from needing him to continue pleasuring you but also wanting to push him away so he could stop being so mean.

With your minimal room, you tried to force your elbow into his stomach, but he could already sense your move and began sharply tugging on your hair with his still-wet fingers. His other arm circled your middle, helping with his grip and plan to move you away from the wall. Due to his taller size, he could easily manipulate you to walk in the direction of the kitchen; both of you can only walk without hitting any furniture due to muscle memory and the thin slither of light streaking through the blinds from the blinking street light.

Breath rushed out of you as Ghostface pushed you over your wooden table, your hands and face again pressed against the surface. You were dazed from the fingering, so you didn’t immediately react when he roughly pulled down your jeans and underwear until they were discarded somewhere in the darkness. In actuality, you sighed in relief from having the air breeze over your aching cunt and only responded with your own needs as your hips wiggled enticingly towards the man behind you.

This was rewarded with a sharp smack to your left arse cheek, halting any fuzzy happiness you’d been wrapped in. A leg shifted between your legs, shifting them further apart as the sound of clothes shuffling was heard from behind you as Ghostface began to lift his cloak and bunch it around his hips.

You weren’t able to see him correctly over your shoulder, but your pussy clenched with anticipation, especially as you were only able to see the mask. It still scared you, but knowing it was Steve only made you back up into him until his cock was suddenly being thrust between your arse cheeks.

“Careful now, Princess, don’t want to be stabbed with something now, do we?” Ghostface chuckled right before he slipped his cock, inch after inch, into your pulsing hole. He wasn’t slow; he moved with intent, wanting it to be overwhelming, which is just what you wanted, and automatically, you raised onto your tip toes even whilst leaning over the table.

“Fuck!” you shouted, eyes shutting as all thoughts focused on the fullness you felt between your legs and the desperate need for more.

“Nope, none of that, don’t want the neighbours hearing or your boyfriend, got to keep nice and quiet whilst I fuck whats mines”, Ghostface grunted sharply as the hand that was still gloved now wrapped around your mouth, so you were forced to breathe heavily out of your nose.

On instinct, you gripped his wrist but didn’t pull away and just tried to concentrate on controlling your breaths as his hips began to move in short, quick rotations. In and out, sloppy fast thrusts that had deep warmth radiating from your cunt and down your thighs.

Sweat was gathering over your body from behind, stimulated and so close to Ghostface, who was also like a human radiator with all his clothes layers. You could feel that he had been wearing jeans as they brushed with each thrust against your sensitive thighs, and it only again reminded you that this was Steve as your hips shifted back to meet his.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the pressure increasing again like it had just before you moved away from the hallway wall. You wanted to cum, no, you needed to cum, wanting to soak Ghostface’s jeans with your juices, wanting to be good for the fake murderer and show that you could cum on his cock.

“You wanna cum? I can feel you getting tighter”, Ghostface asked next to your ear, his voice rough and gravely from where he was out of breath.

He momentarily released his cover of your mouth to allow you to speak, “Yes, please!”.

Ghostface wanted to laugh at your polite response, already knowing you were slipping into a submissive headspace from the way you were backing up to meet his thrusts and holding onto his wrist like it was your lifeline. But he wanted to keep the roleplaying going for a little longer, even though he was desperate to hear your sweet orgasmic mewls.

His hand again covered your lips as he tutted, “No, I don’t think so. I’m going to cum first, and then you can cum, but not until I do.”

You cried against his palm, feeling like your breath was stuck in your throat as you tried to control your euphoria, but it was difficult to do that and breathe through your nose.

Dizziness swayed through your mind as you slumped against the table, releasing your hold of his wrist as you needed to try and control yourself. Ghostface noticed the change and would have kissed the back of your head if he didn’t have his mask on, so he finally allowed you some comfort by releasing his hold on your mouth, letting you suck in deep breaths that filled your lungs.

This allowed him to hold onto your hips, holding you still and fucking deeper, his bulbous tip brushing against your cervix and thighs bruising into the edge of the table. Faster and harder, he moved, chasing his orgasm until finally his balls tightened to his body, and his shaft hardened with each spurt of hot seed that began to coat your inner walls.

You could feel it and hear Ghostfaces’ orgasm, and you finally relaxed the mental torture of holding back your orgasm and came with him. Your walls clenched in quick flutters that helped to milk the last drops of Ghostface’s cum before he collapsed over your back, mask resting on your shoulder and hands on either side of your head.

The two of you were breathing heavily, too lost in the moment even to talk before he moved first. Starting with a gasp, Steve pulled off his face, and you could see over your shoulder that his hair was drenched, sticking to his forehead and face gleaming in the small streaks of light.

“Fuck, it was warm in there; they need to make them with a small fan inside or something, holy shit!” Steve sits up slightly but still leaning his hands on either side of your head, and he catches your eye and grins, showing all of his teeth and eyes crinkling in the corners. “As much as I’ve loved this, I’ve missed kissing you” he dipped his face and kissed your cheek, leaving a few drips of his sweat on your skin, but you didn’t care, not when he was looking at you in a way that was making your heart race.

“So that mask, we’re keeping it, right?” you finally speak, voice hoarse as you try to smile over your shoulder at him, feeling his cock softening within you.

“Oh, for sure, you kinky little minx”, he agrees, kissing your cheek again.

[catboymoments]

Any tips on cosplaying? I wanted to try cosplaying Ramona Flowers but I’ve. Never done anything remotely related to cosplay so I’m not sure where to start with like clothes and such

YES ACTUALLY

Personally I like to build my cosplays by thrifting basics and adding onto them and doing arts and crafts with it if I can ! While some characters require a very specific article of clothing, (like the time I did Iono from pkmn and in that case I just bought a premade costume,) you can find similar or even identical clothing pieces at a thrift store. My possessed Hunter cosplay was super cheap, I got a corduroy yellow jumpsuit from Buffalo Exchange and a wolf shirt from mercari. Thrifting is also sustainable and in some cases you can reuse pieces you buy for either casual wear or other costumes! Like if I wanted to, I could take off the black felt patches and use the jumpsuit for a Kazuichi cosplay ! Also I just like making my cosplays from thrifts because I feel like it adds a little personal touch.

Also, premade cosplays like you find on Amazon tend to be made in sweatshops and out of cheap polyester that gets hot and uncomfortable over time. As someone who lives in Houston, you can probably guess why temperature is an important factor to consider for me. The only things I try to get off of Amazon for my cosplays are things like hosiery (stockings, gloves, leggings, underwear) and wigs. Wigs are a whole other category I’ll make a separate post for.

YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BUY FANCY FABRIC OR SUPPLIES!! seriously! The patches of felt I used for Hunter was craft felt that was like 98 cents a yard. Maybe less I don’t remember. And the belos streaks on the gloves were green craft felt I painted with cheap acrylic paint and cut out! And then hot glued! - craft stores like Michael’s or hobby lobby (which you should always steal from as it is always morally correct to steal from hobby lobby) will have basic, solid color Gildan shirts in varying styles and colors for super cheap. I use those as bases for lots of my costumes, as they have tank tops, tees, v necks, sweatshirts and hoodies that you can build on and around. Strawberry crepe is one of those! The sweatshirt was leik $4.

use eva foam for making props or headpieces! It’s bendable, lightweight, cheap, and comes in a variety of thicknesses. It’s what I used for the magnemites on iono and the headband for strawberry crepe!

I hope this helps somewhat haha

[spicywhenspeaking]

If I'm There: Chapter Fourteen

its the halloween episode !

image source (x)

read from part one here!

summary: Noah and Natalie meet in high school and developed a relationship through their love of music and art. Falling in love, innocent and young, they think nothing can keep them apart. However, sometimes in the pursuit of your dreams the things we love the most get left behind.

taglist : @lma1986 @cookiesupplier @notingridslurkaccount @blackveilomens @thisbicc @thebadchic

It’s two weeks until Noah’s birthday party and only a few days after that, he will leave to go on tour. He was able to get his leave of absence approved by the school. The counselor gave him a huge stack of papers and workbooks that he’s expected to complete to get the credit for the rest of the semester.

When I walk into Noah's room after his meeting I see the huge pile. “Wow,” I comment. “That's a lot!”

He nods in recognition and waves it off. “I can help you with some stuff before y’all leave again and when you get back I can be your tutor.”

Noah laughs “Only if you promise to dress up like a sexy librarian.” Giggling I playfully smack his shoulder. “You pig.”

He stands and wraps his arms around me, picking me up and swinging me on the bed. “Oh hush…you like it,” he winks and settles his body on top of mine. “Don’t worry about the school stuff. It’s the last thing on my mind… right now there's only one thing I can't stop thinking about.”

He says as he places kisses all over my face and down my neck, lightly sucking on the pulse point that's now pumping faster. Noah's hands begin to roam and squeeze my breasts gently as a soft moan escapes my mouth. Before anything gets any further we hear someone barging into the house.

Nick quickly rounds the corner of the hallway and shrieks when he sees us tangled together on the bed and covers his eyes dramatically. “WOAH! sorry! But dude! We have band practice!” Nick says and Noah collapses onto me. “Bro…horrible timing.” I scootch out from under him and adjust my clothes. “I guess I should probably head into work now.” Noah rounds the bed to where I am and wraps his arms around me. “I’ll be counting down the hours until you get back.” I laugh at his ridiculous words. “It won’t be that long, you can come and pick me up at 9,” I respond leaning up to kiss him softly ignoring Nick’s fake gags of disgust and Noah flips him off for both of us.

Thankfully we weren’t interrupted by Nick later that night.

The rest of the time before the party goes by pretty fast. I try not to push it, but Noah doesn’t do any of the schoolwork in those two weeks. Before I know it, it’s Halloween and Noah is dropping me off at work before heading back to his house to get ready for the party with Nick. 

Outside of the coffee shop, we spend a few minutes saying goodbye before I have to head in. “Happy birthday Noah,” I tell him in between kisses. “The happiest one now that I have you.” He responds sweetly against my lips. “I’ll see you tonight,” I say to him and then he says in his best Frankenstein voice “Until then my bride.” Laughing, I walk towards the coffee shop and wave before heading in. 

Work is slow, so Maggie and I can get ready during our shifts. She’s driving me back to the party when we’re off and will crash on the couch at Noah’s if she parties as hard as she's hoping to. I’m trying not to let other people's drinking upset me, not everyone has a problem like my mom, and we are only young once.  

It's 9 pm when we get the go-ahead from our manager to close up early for the night. We finish up our makeup and Maggie helps me get my hair to stand the right way. I didn’t want to get the wig so I’m doing my own take on Frankenstein’s Bride by wearing my hair in a 60’s style updo with sprayed white pieces, disheveled just enough to look like I was brought back to life with a lightening blast. Before heading to the party we swing by my house to pick up Noah’s gift. It’s a signet ring with a N on it that I saw at a vintage shop in town. I hope he likes it. After getting ready and then running by my house it's already 9:45 by the time we drive up to Noah's house. There’s already a lot of cars but we manage to find a spot that's not too far away. 

The front door is unlocked and we walk right in. It's a sea of people I don’t recognize, but a lot of people are wearing masks. “Nice costume.” a random guy comments and leers at me. The music is loud and unfamiliar. Maggie tells me to go find Noah and that she’s going to the kitchen to start taking shots. I laugh and shoo her away. I check around the living room and walk through the house. I don't see Noah or any people I’ve met at the shows I’ve been to. I do notice, however, a lot of people are drinking or already drunk. Deep breaths Natalie, you’re fine. Making my way through the rest of the house I decide to check the garage. 

I find Noah with Nick and more people I don’t recognize smoking weed and drinking out of red Solo cups. I notice Alex, the girl from the other band is here too, with a lit joint hanging out of her mouth. 

“Looks like the girlfriend finally showed up,” Alex says with a weird edge that I can’t quite place. I notice Nick’s brows furrow slightly at her but he seems to shrug it off and nods to greet me with a smile. “How was work Nat?” he asks and at the same time, Noah yells “myyy briiiide!! She has returned!” 

“It was good” I laugh in answer to Nick as Noah strides the short distance between us and pulls me close to press a firm kiss against my lips and then sweeps me up into his arms causing a surprising squeal to escape me. “I must away with my bride.” Noah jokes as he takes me through the party into his room so we can have a few minutes alone to talk. Laughing at his antics, I wrap my arms around his neck and press a kiss to his cheek leaving a red lipstick mark. I move to wipe it but he moves his head away too fast. “No way Natty, keep it there.” I continue giggling as we pass more unfamiliar voices until we reach his room. Fumbling with the door while trying to balance me in his arms he manages to finally get it open and throws me onto the bed, kicking it shut again behind him. 

Sitting up and straightening out my dress I reach into the small shoulder bag I was carrying to pull out the box and card. “Happy birthday Noah.” I smile and hand them both to him as he settles down on the bed next to me. “Natty! You didn't have to get me anything.” I can tell Noah is a little stoned by the goofy way he’s talking but it’s kind of cute. “You’re already my best present.” He nuzzles his head into my neck and leaves a wet kiss. I move my hand to cup his face “And you’ll get plenty of me later, now open your gift.” His eyes sparkle with delight. “Yes ma’am” he jokes and he opens the card to read it. 

 Happy birthday Noah, I hope this is one of the best ones. 

*Inside is several pictures printed out of Noah and Natalie. Smiling, Kissing. One of Natalie on Noah's back, both laughing.

“Baaaabe this is so fucking cute,” Noah says and leans over to kiss me. Smiling into it I tell him “There’s more, open the box.” I say to him.

Noah opens the box and sees the silver ring. “Oh wow Nat, this is awesome!” He pulls it out and puts the ring on his ring pointer finger. “N for Natalie right?” I shake my head “No, N for Noah.” He cups his hands around my face and leans to press a kiss to my lips. “N for Natalie.” Melting into the kiss I don’t have the energy to disagree. 

When we emerge from his room an hour or so later, slightly disheveled, I tell him I’m going to look for Maggie to check on her. When I find her she’s stumbling down the hallway and I manage to catch her before she collapses on the ground. “Naaatyyyyy there you are!! Did you find Noah and give him your present? Oh! Looks like you gave him more than that. You have sex eyes.” Hiking her arm over my shoulder to hold her up I lead her into the nearest bathroom. “Let's just get you cleaned up.” Upon seeing the toilet, Maggie is quick to rush over and empty out the contents of her stomach. Coming up behind her, I gently pat her back in soothing circles. I’m used to this part, the sickness that follows the highs of a drunken night. Your worries for that moment are gone and you can just be loose and fun..at least that’s how some people make it look. 

We stay in the bathroom for a while and I get Maggie cleaned up and help her into Noah's Mom’s room. It’s dark and quiet, the perfect place for her to crash for the night. Leading her onto the bed I lay her down and pull the trash can to the side in case she gets sick again. 

I try and push my way through the wall of people that as grown. I didn’t even know Noah had this many friends. I bump into people as I navigate my way toward the kitchen, having to make my way through the dance floor that is really just the living room. Some guy bumps into me and sloshes his warm beer onto my outfit and I’m overwhelmed by the smell. “Oh- burp- sorry,” he says and I wave him off just trying to get out of the mess of strange people and smells. My eyes are scanning the crowds to try and find Noah’s familiar face. After what feels like an eternity I manage to push my way to the kitchen where I hear his laugh and sigh with relief. 

Noah, Nick, Alex, and other people I met in the garage are all gathered in the kitchen drinking. I wasn’t gone with Maggie for that long, I thought, but I guess it was long enough for them to have drank a significant enough amount to get tipsy. “Baaabe you found us!” Noah slurs and he slings his arm around my shoulder. I laugh softly and lean into his warmth. “Yeah, Maggie is crashing in your Mom’s room. She had a little too much to drink.” I take his cup and take a small sip. “Jesus, you want some mixer with your tequila?” I joke as I hand him the drink back and untangle myself to grab a water bottle before retuning to his side. 

“Let’s do shots!” Alex shouts from the kitchen counter that she’s perched on. One of the other guys lines up a bunch of shot glasses and pours a bottle of something in them and starts handing them out. I politely decline and I hear Alex scoff. “You can’t even let loose for Noah’s birthday? Come on Natalie..live a little.” She says and Nick starts to say something but I cut in “I’ll have plenty of time to let loose with Noah later.” I look up at Noah and wink while remaining tucked into his side while Alex rolls her eyes.

Raising their shots in the air they all call out “Happy birthday Noah!” and Alex ends with “Congrats to the birthday boy for joining us degens in the dropout club.” They down their shots and it takes me a second to register what she just said. 

“What are you talking about? Noah’s not dropping out. Right?” My eyes move to Noah’s and he is stuck staring guiltily at the floor. “What is she talking about Noah?” I ask.

“You told me you told her already man,” Nick says. “Um, why don’t we talk about this later Nat,” Noah says in a hushed whisper. I feel like the friend at the party that wasn’t invited to the sleepover after. Like the only one that doesn’t understand the inside joke. 

“Noah, what is she talking about? I thought you were finishing remotely? That’s what you told me.” I tell him and he shifts uncomfortably. 

“Yeah..rockstars don't have a lot of time for homework on the road…” Alex says again and I don’t know what comes over me but I’m sick of hearing this girl I don’t even know talk to me like she has any say in anything. My hand flies up, motioning Alex to stop talking. “Just shut up.” I seethe at her and I angle my head to face Noah again. 

“So when were you planning on telling me? Just talked it all over with Alex and made the decision together?” I snap at him and walk out of the kitchen in search of fresh air. 

Noah is stumbling after me trying to catch up. The front door slams behind him as he grabs my arm and whips me back around to him. “Natty, you’re being fucking dramatic. What the fuck was that? I get you're upset but it’s my birthday, that was fucking embarrassing.” 

I rip my arm back tears falling down my face at his outburst. “Embarrassing? You know what’s embarrassing? Having some bitch I don’t even know have more insight about my boyfriend’s life than me! How long were you going to keep up the lie that you’re still in school?” I ask.

 He looks way more fucked up in the moonlight, It makes my skin itch with discomfort. “I don’t know what hurts me more, the fact that you’ve been lying to me for weeks about something so stupid or that the only person who said anything was some girl who for some reason hates me,” I say and tears are spilling down my face. Noah stumbles closer, moving to wipe them but I take another step back. Everything else disappears, all I can focus on is Noah and all I can feel is a deep and heavy dread. The seedling of jealousy sprouted into an untamable beast. 

“Natalie, please just let me explain,” Noah says. “I just- looking at all that work? Just for this degree that doesn’t fucking matter, It would have been a waste of time.” 

“But why didn’t you tell me? All this time you knew you were just dropping out and you didn’t tell me? Was I just supposed to find out at graduation?” My voice is breaking and exasperated. “I just- I don’t know why you would keep that from me.”

“I just-” he starts. “I didn’t think you’d understand.” Noah breathes out. “You’re all about school and grades and shit and that just doesn’t matter to me. Alex dropped out and her band is thriving, because she can focus all of her time on it.” 

“Yeah, and I’m sure Alex is thinking about what’s in your best interest.” I wipe the tears off my face with the back of my hand. “I can’t believe you didn’t think I’d understand Noah. I asked you to consider your possibilities.” More tears are falling and I see that his eyes are glistening slightly. “I said I supported you and you lied to me.” 

“I didn’t lie..technically.” He says and I can tell he barely believes it himself. 

“So what else are you not technically telling me the truth about?” The question leaves my mouth before I have time to stop it.

“That's not fair Natalie, I didn’t intentionally keep it from you to hurt you.” Noah retorts. “Do you really think I would keep things from you?”

“You did! You just did Noah! You thought I would judge you, not like your new friends who all don’t care about anything right? Natalie only cares about school and grades. Boring ol’d Natalie couldn’t possibly understand anything about your lifestyle right?” It’s a mixture of feeling like an outsider, at the party and tonight in my own relationship. 

“Natty, please don’t cry.” Noah comes closer and I don’t step back when he wipes the tears from my face that have continued to fall. Even harder now that he’s comforting me. How fucked up is that the person that’s causing my tears is the only person I want to help me feel better. “I don’t want to make you cry again.” 

My eyes are fixed on the ground. “I can’t help but think where I fit into all of this. your life is so different from mine, is there even room for me in it anymore.” 

“Natalie, I love you. What do you even mean?” Noah says pulling my chin up to meet his eyes and I can still smell the alcohol on his breath. My own eyes are red-rimmed and clouded with tears that have refused to stop falling.

 “I think I’m going to head home and we can talk in the morning when you’re sober, I’m just going to call Kyle to come and get me since Maggie is not good to drive.” 

He takes a step back and something flashes across his face I don't recognize. “Not too long ago, I was the one you were calling to rescue you from him and now look at us. This isn’t what I wanted Nat. I - I didn’t want this to happen.” 

“I know Noah, let’s not fight about this. It’s your birthday, you should go have fun. I’m just going to head out. The drinking and everything, It’s just too much for me. I thought I could handle it, but its just - its to much.” 

I call Kyle and have a hard time holding back the emotion in my voice, he’s at a party a few minutes away and he’ll be there soon. Noah sits with me on the curb while I wait for him to pull up. 

Ten minutes later Kyles whipping out of the car and over to my side. I get up to go not seeing the rage in Kyle’s eyes, not noticing he was heading straight for Noah who stood up with me.

“I knew you’d pull some stupid shit like this and now she’s calling me fucking crying because of your bullshit,” Kyle says as he’s surprises me by pushing Noah back further onto the front lawn.

“Kyle! Let’s just go, please. Come on! stop.” I’m pulling Kyle back and I guess the commotion alerted the people inside and the others are gathered out the front door. Nick runs to help create more of a separation between the two. “Nick, can you grab Maggie and bring her down? I’m going to head home.” He nods and moves to go get her. With Kyle distracted Noah uses the chance to take a swing. “Fuck you man! You don’t know anything. I love her.” 

I move out of the way in time to miss any of the punches Kyle takes and watch in horror. He wipes blood from his mouth and says “Yeah, you love fucking up her life,” then he pounces. Swinging his full strength at Noah. “Shit!” I say and try to pull them apart taking an accidental elbow in the commotion of it all. Someone else pulls Noah away and Kyle and I stumble back as Nick returns with Maggie hanging off of his shoulders. “What the fuck!” Nick yells and I’m too preoccupied with my now bleeding nose. “Ow.” I mumble and Kyle turns to see my blood-drenched dress. “Oh shit, Nat. Are you okay?” he asks and I glare my eyes at him. “No, I’m not fucking okay. Get Maggie. Let’s go.” Looking up I see Noah standing next to Alex of all people, he sees my nose and deflates. “Natty-” he starts. “Just let her go,” Alex says and I can see him struggle with what to do. “I’ll call you tomorrow okay?” he says in a small voice. 

“Okay,” I respond as the three of us get into the car and drive away from the scene I unintentionally created. On the drive home, I just lay my head against the cold glass as fresh hot tears stream down my face. 

Once I’m home I climb up the stairs while Kyle sets Maggie up in the guest room. I shower and wash the makeup and blood from my face. Looking into the mirror I can tell I’ll probably have a black eye from the hit I took to the nose. Despite the adrenaline from the fight I’m out as soon as my head touches my pillow.

I wake up late and around 10 am I have a text from Noah asking me if I can meet him outside to talk. 

Noah’s face is red and blotchy when I get to him and he takes a breath when he sees the purple bruising around my eyes. “Fuck Nat, was that me?” He asks in a weak voice. 

I touch the tender skin and shrug. “A lot was going on, It could have been Kyle but it was an accident.” 

“I’m sorry about last night Noah, I shouldn’t have embarrassed you like that,” I say to him and the wind picks up blowing my hair around. He’s wearing a beanie and his hair stays calm against the nape of his neck. “Why are you apologizing? I should be apologizing to you.” He says and his voice breaks. “God, I was such a drunk ass.” 

“I should have waited to talk to you about it in private. Yelling at you in front of everyone was so lame.” My voice is calm and even now that we are away from the chaos of the party. 

“I should have never lied to you Natalie, that was fucked up. I should have told you from the start that I planned to drop out. I can’t believe I yelled at you. Fought your brother. Again. And you ended up hurt and crying.” He’s rambling now, which is usually my thing. “I always seem to be the one hurting you lately.”

“That’s not true Noah. It was a stupid fight. It’s okay.” I try to reassure him.

He looks up at me and his eyes are glossy with tears. “Noah, what’s wrong?” I ask suddenly worried. 

“Nat. I love you so much.” He says and a single tear runs down his cheek.

“I love you too,” I tell him. 

“I love you, but I can’t do this.” his words break at the end and I don’t know what he’s saying.

“Can’t do what?” I ask as the world stands still.

“I can’t do this anymore. We can’t be together. I’m not good for you.”  Now more tears are falling down his face and I don’t even notice my own have started falling as well.

“You’re breaking up with me?” My voice squeezes out.

“I’m sorry Nat - you’ll be better off without me.” He wipes his tears and tries to put on a brave face. “It’s for the best.”

And my heart shatters. 

“I’m sorry Noah, I’m so sorry. Please don’t do this. I love you.” I move to bury my head against his chest and his breath hitches. 

“We can’t Natalie. I- We just can’t. I can’t be what you need right now.” He says.

I take a deep shuttering breath and step away seeing the stains my tears left on his shirt.

“There’s nothing else I can say.” I stare at the ground. “You’ve already made up your mind.” 

“I’m sorry, It’s for the best.” He gives me one last lingering kiss on the forehead and quickly moves to get back into his car. No longing stares and waves goodbye, he just takes off and leaves me a blubbering mess on my front yard.

crying and screaming and throwing up ....NOOOO WHYYYY

next ->

[fromtheboundlesssea]

HotD Season 2 Episode 1 Live Watch Thoughts

Yay recap! I missed you Emily and Milly!

The recap really does make it obvious that Alicent thinks she is following Viserys’ will.

Mysaria you did nothing to put Aegon on the throne. You did diddly squat that season.

I’m still blown they had Rhaenyra’s coronation at her daughter’s funeral.

Now onto the actual episode.

Ooooooo this opening is SOOOOOO MUCH COOLER!

I think it’s showing off what will happen during the season? Last season?

Opening is soooo much cooler than season 1 and all of Game of Thrones!

I beg you HBO! Keep this style of opening next season and all season!!!!!!

Love the contrast of the epicness of the opening to the quiet forest with a crow flying upon the wind.

“Duty is sacrifice” okay Cregan—mister I will show up last minute.

What has the seven kingdoms done for you really?

Was that SARA?!?!?

Is that adding to the watch from lore in the books or…

Random Stark boy be cute though.

Thank god they let Jace’s actor have his natural curls. So much better than that wig.

Cregan really is missing a beard. I think that is what is odd about his appearance.

The Conqueror went North to the Wall? I can’t remember that happening.

Jace… he bent the knee to not let his people burn. It wasn’t because they necessarily believed in the Targaryens and their right to rule.

Jace’s actor is 100% going to be used for Jon Snow faceclaims and gifs from these scenes.

I guess they are going to delete Sara, which kind of sucks tbh. I wanted Jace to have some conflict where he follows in his mother’s idea of lust and duty or goes against it.

“The mother grieves as the Queen shirks her duties” so like Viserys

Call him out Rhaenys. You deserved better when it came to your children.

Rhaenyra has no battle experience on her dragon and Syrax has no battle experience either. Aemond would not be in any trouble.

“Would that you were the king” OOF. He is going to be rattled by that for sure.

Power to Rhaenyra for not scorching Storm’s End tbh.

Honestly, I love the Velaryons so much. I wish we had more content about them in the shows.

I like that Corlys does seem to care about Luke. I just wish he showed just as much care about his granddaughters. I don’t think they’ve had any scenes together thus far.

So, is Alyn Corlys’ son in this or are they making no familial connection? And he married Baela and had an affair with her niece doesn’t he?

Oooo the same gate Otto left Alicent is the same gate the Green soldiers seem to come.

Love the scorpions. I wonder if they were suggested by Criston or if they just had them. They’re Dornish inventions right.

HELAENA MY GIRL! Is that a golden dragon you’re making?

JAEHAERA! MY CHILD!

Aw! Aegon checking on Jaehaera first before asking about Jaehaerys.

Okay, wow. Okay, having Alicent being eaten out. I wish their first time would have been after B&C where they are consumed by a need for comfort.

Interesting how we see Criston put on his armor after and Alicent helping him with his armor (giving him his cloak where Rhaenyra took it) and her clocking his shift in title and setting a boundary as opposed to Rhaenyra allowing him to assume (not fully blaming her btw).

JAEHAERYS! MY OTHER BABY

Aegon smiling at Jaehaerys 🥰

Tyland trying to be kind with he little prince while being annoyed.

Not Alicent blaming Tyland for the interruptions. 🤣

Here comes our new war criminal.

Aegon giving Aemond a place in the same way Viserys gave Daemon a place.

Me too Aegon. I am also like that when Otto talks.

I wish they gave an explanation of the balls. Have they given any in the BTS stuff?

Yes she was indisposed Larys you perverted creep.

Alicent definitely does not like that Larys chose her new staff. It feels controlling.

Why does Rhaenyra have ash on her face?

Appropriate fear of dragon.

That cgi of Rhaenyra getting off Syrax was awkward. Was that just me?

I hope they give Emma better writing this season, because they are an excellent actor.

RHAENYRA BUNCHING UP THE CLOTH TO HER BELLY!!!! 😭😭😭😭

Not Aegon and his crew sashaying in.

Interesting having Aegon being shown to handle matters of the kingdom before Rhaenyra is shown doing so. It’s an odd choice, especially him initially wanting to be helpful.

Hugh? However you spell it? Is it the dragon seed? Just a common name?

Interesting how we do not see him getting cut.

Starting Aegon as listening to the smallfolk in a way Rhaenyra dismissed is also interesting.

Love Aegon ready to dismiss Larys.

No Aegon do not listen to him. Yes I think Otto is not the best person, but Larys is not the best person to listen to either.

I wish we saw Alicent with the children or her with their things in her room.

Alicent defending her kids. That’s right. Because Otto has seemingly done nothing for those kids. He could have taken them under his wing.

The idea of men silencing the voice of mothers in the rearing and council of their children!

Rhys is such a good actor and I have to think about how he was also Mr. Lovegood.

Goats!

Hello Mysaria.

Man. This dynamic between Daemon and Mysaria is definitely giving off book Tyrion and Shae with his immediate act of ready violence.

Man, the idea of the Kingsguard not knowing what to do during Targ x Targ violence spans a the centuries huh.

Wigs are definitely a little better looking.

BAELA! RHAENA! MY DARLINGS!

Rhaena’s wig is soooo much better!

Daemon definitely does not like being silenced. How does it feel to have be treated in the same way Viserys treated Alicent?

Let my girls (Baela and Rhaena) have lines!

The way Jace’s voice is cracking!

Why do I feel we are not going to get any of the similar comforting moments between Alicent and her children? They are allergic to showing positive motherhood with he Greens.

Change in Joffrey actor.

Where are Aegon the Younger and Viserys?

Wish we got to see more of Rhaena interacting with Luke.

AND JOFFREY THROWING IN THE TOY!

Will rhaenyra hold any regret or kinder thoughts/prayers for Jaehaerys in the way Alicent does for Luke?

Same shore that Tyrion and Davos came in on maybe?

Why is Daemon coming in himself? Surely he would be able to just go inside himself if he was going to be traveling through the passages (although I don’t think that’s what’s going to happen in the show)

I guess this is Blood and Cheese.

And the rats were there while Viserys reigned, Daemon.

And they are really going to make the death of Jaehaerys an accident. Is everything going to be an accident in this show? Not let anyone but the Greens be held accountable.

Oh, so Daemon probably told them to go after any of the other Targaryens in the keep if they couldn’t find Aemond.

Like seeing the different types of map this episode.

And I feel like the show has changed Aemond’s characterization because we don’t have Alicent and Aemond directly talking.

Good. The line comes before B&C and not after.

Fabian is so hot. I need him in another period drama—OH him and Olivia in an adaptation of Persuasion by Jane Austen. It would SLAY

Nice to have Otto actually talk to his grandchildren in a way that isn’t violent or outright condescending.

If the rat catcher knows everything about the keep, wouldn’t he freaking know where Aemond is?

And if he’s going through the passages, again why couldn’t Daemon do it?

DOGGY! Little scruffers!

Ugh. I’m not excited for this and how they’re going to change this. (Although I get not wanting to put child actors through difficult situations)

And people were complaining about people paying no attention to the rat catcher, but we saw rat catchers wandering the hall throughout the episode in the background. So it’s not like it would be unusual for them to be there. And someone does notice them. But they’re servants seemingly doing their job. Why would people notice them wandering the castle.

And Aegon is being so casual on that throne.

Okay, but could they not have just waited for Aemond? Come back later?

And that is a cool as heck mural on Aemond’s wall.

I don’t like this. I don’t like this. I don’t like this.

Why does the maid look vaguely like Emma Stone?

NO HELAENA!!!!

Helaena struggling! 😭

I’m surprised they didn’t just kill them both?

THE TEAR!

Baby!!!!!! The necklace!

NO! This is worse!!!!!

Why is the maid not getting someone!!!!!!!!

The sounds!!! NO I DONT LIKE THIS!!!

This is so much worse than Luke!

WHY IS Helaena not screaming!

Why could they not have Helaena say her son’s name?!?!?

AND THATS THE END?!?!?!?

It should have ended with Helaena screaming instead of that!

And I’m glad the Alicole sex scene wasn’t intermixed with the killing of Jaehaerys. How people were describing it made it sound like it was.

Promo Thoughts

Now we see Aegon the Younger and Viserys.

Destroy that stupid Lego set Aegon!

Good! Yell at Daemon!

I wish Addam had white hair! I wanted more Velaryon face claims.

Is Laenor just never going to appear again?

Looks like Baela and Rhaena will do things next episode.

Hopefully we will have Alicent comforting her children in the same way Rhaenyra comforted Jace.

[hungergameshyperfixation]

Maysilee Cosplay continued: Wigs.

This is arguably one of the more important cosplay choices IMO just given the cosplay.

I have been eyeing blonde wigs for a longgggg time. Before I considered the Maysilee cosplay. But that doesn’t really make this any easier.

There are several important factors I am considering for what wig I’d like to get.* I’m posting this with the intent to document my own process and also maybe help anyone else who wants to cosplay Maysilee!

I’m kind of a novice cosplayer tbh, I only started “cosplaying” outside of Halloween around…2021? Maybe some lowkey stuff before that. SO take everything I say with a grain of salt por favor.

Maysilee’s book description is very minimal, and the most widespread visual representation we have of her is MainstayPro’s “HUNGER GAMES: THE SECOND QUARTER QUELL.” As tempted as I am to mimic Maysilee’s depiction in that short film (I really liked the addition of the braid tbh, and the bangs are lowkey ingrained in my psyche), I kinda wanted to try something different….?

So I’m putting this part out there in case anyone wants to add on to this and make certain canon/canon-adjacent arguments as to what Maysilee could look like, I guess. I was debating about hair length and hairstyle, really. I’ll show some images but I already kinda know that I’ll go with natural blonde hair wigs, to kind of mimic Peeta’s hair and Prim’s; I will say though, for some reason “natural blonde wigs” always look so yellow to me LMAO. Idk why.

Anyway, onto THE SEVERAL IMPORTANT FACTORS I am considering with the wig purchase(s)

Firstly, the basics:

•The style and how I could see it fitting to Maysilee.

•The length.

•The color.

Then:

•The price lmao (all the ones shown are in my budget for this project).

•When I can get them (as you can see, some of them are not available. I committed the sin of wig shopping in OCTOBER).

•IF I CAN REUSE THIS WIG FOR ANOTHER COSPLAY OR CHARACTER. This is arguably one of the most important! That’s what makes it difficult.

Onto the wigs I have on my radar. I purposely kept the prices and names shown on the screenshots so that other people can reference and find them! They are all on Epic Cosplay’s website.

Another thing to note that was mentioned above is that I am very tempted to get a strawberry blonde wig, but I feel as though a “natural blonde” wig would be better fitting for Maysilee, considering the merchants’ hair colors we see in the film.

Okay so. I am tempted to do a breakdown of each one and my reasonings…Maybe I’ll do that as a reblog.

Some of these might not seem like Maysilee at all BUT keep in mind: longer wigs = more hair to play with. I could add braids and style each wig in a variety of ways. Also, see my bullet points listed above (especially the last point, italicized and boldened LMAO).

So I leave this post as a reference but also as a jumping off point if anyone wants to put their two cents in. Recommendations appreciated although I am already formulating other parts of the cosplay as well. I most likely will get ones that are currently available /not put on back order. Also I’m really hoping to maybe read more about what people think Maysilee looks like, beyond the depiction by MainstayPro.

This was a long one, cheers!

[buddieisgoingcanon25]

“Like, did Eddie ever tell Chris Buck is his gaurdian? How the hell do wr know. No emotional payoff.”

To the anon who mentioned this. I couldn’t agree more with you. It was one of my biggest issues with season 6 honestly. The constant offscreen payoffs to storylines. But, Unfortunately while Kristen is in charge of the show, I don’t see that changing much going forward. That is unfortunately her style and the type of story she likes to tell/have told. So many things started happening off screen (emotional conclusions, conversations, family issues) once she really took the reins of the show in season 4. I don’t say season 3 because while yes that’s when she joined the show, she took a more passive role in things until she got on more stable ground in season 4. Part of that falls onto how she was trained and part of it falls on her own laziness which I say laziness because she has admitted in one or two different interviews that she’s run out of ideas for the show in terms of big disasters and plots. She’s also admitted she feels their best work comes when they “tune out” what the fans are saying instead of “second guessing their decisions based on fan reactions” and the same thing regarding buddie. She has been against it since the very beginning and has stated multiple times she “does not see it” (it being the romantic aspect between Buck and Eddie) and won’t let it happen. Now, that all being said, the big wigs at ABC can very well stick their hands into it. Obviously they are going to want to get their money worth from buying this expensive show. They could be planning on a season 8 already and are waiting to see how season 7 does before they decide to replace her. They could decide to replace her before season 7 even airs and just waiting for the writers strike to end before announcing it (I’m leaning against this route since we’ve already started hearing about writer changes and i feel like we’d have heard of her being replaced before they started writing scripts since changing after they were written would potentially cause rewrites under a different vision. Not exactly something they’d want after losing so much money due to the double strike) or they could keep her and just firmly over ride what she wants and flat out tell her this is what we want make it happen. No matter though, while she stays in charge of the show I would caution all of us to not get to… grand with our expectations over buddie and other things. I’m not saying don’t be excited over it. Just cautiously do it so you don’t get upset later if it doesn’t happen. We all saw what the end of season 6 did to the fandom.

Great thoughts anon. I will be much more cautious going forward.

[rindecisions]

Stranger Tales: Part 9

A poll based Stranger Things fanfiction

Read all of Stranger Tales on AO3

After careful consideration, he finally picked one. He wanted to use Metal Queen, due to it being the closest to Corroded Coffin’s style, but ended up choosing Cherry Bomb. He figured Velvet would prefer something a little catchier. He couldn’t say he necessarily liked the song, but the lyrics were fun at least. Keeping his guitar unplugged, he listened to the song on repeat, trying to learn it.

—

Thursday was a day of consistent discouragement on Steve’s end. By his lunch break, he’d all but given up on trying to get a date.

“God, you’re mopey,” Robin complained as she walked in the back.

Steve just grunted in response and put his forehead on the table.

“If you really don’t want to go to the show this bad, you don’t have to.”

“It’s not the show,” Steve said into the table. “I have no problem going with you.”

Robin glanced at the board she’d stopped using a couple hours into their shift, with five marks in the ‘You Suck’ column. “Why are you so stuck on getting a girlfriend, anyway?”

“I haven’t been single this long since elementary.”

“This long… being?”

Steve paused and started counting on his fingers in front of his face. “About seven months.”

“Okay…” Robin pulled up a chair and sat on it backward, crossing her arms on the back and resting her chin on them. “Guess how long it’s been for me?”

Steve shrugged and looked up at her from the table.

“Seventeen,” she said plainly.

“Days?” Steve quirked an eyebrow.

“Years.”

Steve looked like he was in deep thought. “But aren’t you seventeen?”

“Yes,” she said patronizingly. She rolled her eyes when it seemed like Steve still wasn’t getting it. “I’ve never had a date, dingus,” she stated firmly.

“Oh…” Steve sat up and stared at the table. “That sucks.”

The counter bell chimed, and Robin got up. “Don’t beat yourself up about it too much.”

He groaned as she left.

—

Friday came, and Eddie was about as prepared as he could be outside of just practice. When it got close to nighttime, he packed up his guitar and went to the Hideaway. It was only 7 pm, but he knew Velvet always showed up a few hours early, so he let himself in the back door.

“Oh, good,” Velvet’s disembodied voice carried over as soon as he entered. “I was worried you’d forgotten.”

“Nah,” Eddie shrugged. It always surprised him that she knew it was him without even looking.

“Did you figure out what you’re doing?”

“Yep,” Eddie held up the cassette as he walked around the corner, where she was putting on her vibrant red wig at a vanity.

“Great.” She fixed the front of her wig. “Just tell me it’s something recognizable and not some niche metal song.”

“Yes, it’s a well-known one,” he rolled his eyes.

“Good.” She smiled at him and took the cassette. “Let’s see what you’ve got in mind.”

Eddie followed her to the stage; the heavy curtains were still drawn and sounds of men enjoying sports could be heard from the other side. He walked up to the microphone and adjusted the height, making sure it was off.

“Track?”

“First track,” he responded simply, flipping his guitar over his shoulder so it was in front of him.

She nodded and put the tape in a small stereo. “Move the mic away from the curtain so I can watch you.”

Eddie did as asked, and got situated so he was clearly visible from Velvet’s position.

“Ready?”

Eddie nodded firmly, and she smiled before pressing the play button. She recognized the song as soon as it started and was pleased with his selection. And just as she’d hoped, Eddie knew what made a good show and didn’t need him to do his full routine to know he was going to do just fine. Velvet turned off the music, making Eddie pause in confusion. He glanced around awkwardly. “Was it bad?”

“Not at all,” she chuckled. “I saw plenty, and I’d say you’ve got it.”

Eddie smiled and swung his guitar onto his back. “So now what?”

“Have you come up with a stage name yet?”

“Uh,” Eddie reached into his pocket for a crumpled piece of paper. “I came up with a few but figured you should choose, seeing as you’ll be the one announcing it.” He held the paper out to her.

“Oh, boy…” she said sarcastically, taking the paper and uncrumpling it. There were four names written on it in his oddly bubbly handwriting.

More fics by Rindecision

[gender-thoughts]

January 25, 2008

Yesterday was opening night of the play and for the first time people outside of the cast saw me in my wig. Kill me. Oh, also did I mention that out of everyone I was the only one they had to make a new costume for? None of the costumes they already had would fit over my chest so that was mortifying.  Adding a wig to the situation was really the last thing I needed. When the drama teacher came into the dressing room the day of our dress rehearsal with a dark, curly wig in her hand I had no inkling that it was for me. But unfortunately it was. She stood behind me as I sat in a chair and she pulled it onto my head to see if it would work. All the girls in the room cooed at me as she began to move the tendrils around my face, seeing how I should put it up for the play. I immediately felt ridiculous as I looked up at my reflection. 

“Omigosh you look so pretty!”

All these girls who haven’t spoken to me basically this whole time suddenly had so much to say to me about this stupid wig. I don’t know what I’d thought would happen, between my short hair and the bleached part at the front I guess there wouldn’t really have been any way to make my own hair fit into Victorian era fashions. I should have expected a wig.

Last night as we were all in the dressing room getting ready, Kailey was running around taking pictures of everyone. I had just finished getting the wig on, but hadn’t styled it yet when she came over and took picture after picture, of me, of us together. She insisted on taking a picture of me with the curls of the wig still down and around my face. I frowned and she laughed at the camera. 

“Why do you look so sad?” she chuckled.

“I literally hate this stupid wig. I look so stupid.”

“What are you talking about? You look beautiful!”, she laughed and bounced away to take more videos and pictures of everyone else in the room.

Morgan and Berto came to see the play. And maybe boys are just extremely unobservant, or maybe Berto was just trying to be nice, but when I met up with them in the commons after curtain call he commented on how nice my hair looked and how it had grown really fast. Like, really? You don’t go from a pixie cut to shoulder length hair in a matter of weeks.

I just wish I didn’t have to wear a wig. It’s ugly and it makes me feel really ridiculous. Also what about the fact that everyone seems to prefer me in it? I think I look ridiculous, but everyone keeps telling me how pretty it looks. At first I thought they were just trying to make me feel better because I very clearly hated it, but then they just kept saying it. 

[itsumoegao]

@eraserisms

📗 Scarce details of the Black Swan's next target, named as the King of Clubs, scattered among Japan's authorities like shattered glass, each fractured fragment hoping to give anyone a shred of a clue to their identity. Which pro hero was it this time? After discovering that Shinso, after other fallen heroes, was the Ten of Clubs, detectives slowly pieced together each suit card's corresponding quirk. However, they were not positive their guess was a match, still searching for a pattern.

As the weather shifted towards typhoon season, the Swan planted a lure for panic. Each time he "slipped up" traits about a target, police and citizens were on high alert. With the reveal that the King had yellow eyes, they narrowed down to Hawks as, like with the brainwashing quirk, fierce wings were mostly non lethal.

They were wrong.

"The King of Clubs is heading towards you and he looks to be alone. You should make it quick. If you're in trouble, we'll help."

"I should be fine. Thank you. Keep your distance." Ending the phone call with a watchful cygnet, he slipped the device then rose his head slightly towards the near black ocean, illuminated by the occasional strike of lightning. The scent of rain mixed with the salty sea, not an expected setting for a battle but all the cards fell into place. As Miss Swan, a tip was given to the police 'she' was spotted at a beach, bait for the King's arrival.

Wig stuck to his face while wet from the storm as he sat upon a towel in a long raincoat, tattered but also feminine in style, his suit beneath. They had seen each other's face during their casino match but in preparation for his reveal, the Swan also wore a red mask.

In anticipation for their eventually clash, one he had waited for since organizing his list, he checked his environment. Soaked sand slowed footwork, no rooftops eliminated sneak attacks, lightning caused delays and blinding in split second decisions, and the lack of proper street lamps obscured their exact location should additional pros be called. In the event they were, a speedboat waited at the end of a dock.

All cards were in his hand. All he needed to do was play them.

The King would most likely activate his power before approaching then use his binding cloth from a distance. Beneath his mask, he formed the smallest of smiles. Eraserhead had been one of the earlier heroes Izuku studied back when he clung onto that childhood dream, when his jade eyes used to gleam. Now, he was to see a live demonstration. A first hand experience.

[nyalisa-landale]

doll progress: I finally got all the fucking hair out of draculaura's head. I also made her a wig cap, and finished separating from the original wig mesh all the wefts I had cut out (I think it's about half of the wig). I could sew these wefts onto the wig cap right now, but they're longer than the doll is tall. and also pretty tangled. but I did find glue in one of my tatting baskets, so at least the ends are sealed!

the wefts from this wig (and probably all of them, since three out of four are this exact wig but in different colors) are made with most of the length of the hair, with just a tiny bit folded over to stitch the actual weft with. so I'm kinda wondering if I want to cut off the top of the weft and just have loose hair for rerooting. aloxa's hair is short anyway so it would work fine to have the total hair length folded in half.

the alternative, I guess, would be to use them as-is and then trim like half the length off before styling. I might then be able to make new wefts with the trimmed off part, but idk. regardless of what I decide to do, I'm pretty sure the next step is to give the wefts a hot water bath and then to comb them out.

[casicroaks]

Tiffany Valentine has two things in her mind: love and murder. The origins of the brains behind the infamous Lakeshore Strangler and the string of broken hearts she left along her way to Chicago, interwoven with the development of the tempestuous relationship between her and a certain Charles Lee Ray.

CHAPTER 8

[ CHAPTER 1 // CHAPTER 2 // CHAPTER 3 // CHAPTER 4 // CHAPTER 5 // CHAPTER 6 // CHAPTER 7 // CHAPTER 8 // CHAPTER 9 // CHAPTER 10 // CHAPTER 11 // CHAPTER 12 // CHAPTER 13 // CHAPTER 14 // CHAPTER 15 // CHAPTER 16 ]

NEW JERSEY, 1985

Halloween was just around the bend and, for the first time in almost a decade, I had an invitation to celebrate it. Molly had heard from a friend about a costume party taking place at a bar downtown, and she had told me she would love for me to come. She had even told me I could bring a plus one, so I was even more excited to break the news to Chucky. Certainly, I didn’t know whether he would even want to go, but in any case, I was thrilled –and I was going, no doubt about it.

“You already know what you’re gonna go as?” I asked Molly that Sunday, while wandering around the stores already all decked out in their best spooky décor.

“As a witch,” she said with a shrug. “Like every Halloween. This year I’ve thought of changing things up, painting myself green and going as that one hag from ‘The Wizard Of Oz’… but I guess there’s a reason my younger brother was terrified of her for years.”

I laughed. “What, is your brother coming to the party too?”

“No, I mean…” She rolled her eyes and made a hand gesture. “I don’t think guys will find me particularly ravishing when we step out of the dance floor and onto the street to suddenly realize they’ve been making out with a woman slathered in paint.”

“Well, that’s their problem, not yours.”

Molly laughed as well. “So, what about you?”

“Vampire queen,” I said proudly. “I’d really love to dress up as Elvira, you know, from TV?”

“Yes, of course I know who Elvira is!”

“The problem is getting a good wig…”

“Bah, that’s not really an issue –you work at a hair salon, for God’s sake!” Molly said. “Even though I’m great at styling wigs I’m pretty bad at applying acrylic nails… I’m used to working with my hands.”

We got inside a little shop Molly said she bought almost her entire wardrobe in. There was a holiday sale, and it was crawling with people, all of them clearly knowing that the place was their best bet for creepy fashion garments to build up their costumes.

“Do you think Elvira did rip off Vampira?” Molly asked me, tossing me several black dresses to choose from. “Assuming you know who Vampira is.”

“Of course I know who Vampira is,” I said, almost buried in the growing pile. “I think the more the merrier. Besides, Vampira, Elvira, Morticia, Lily Munster –they’re all rather similar anyways.”

“Oh –Lily Munster, that’d be a good Halloween costume too,” she said with a big smile, briefly distracted by a display of metallic belts.

I put the pile down for a moment, on a nearby velvet chair, and examined each dress while Molly went to look for accessories. It had to be something I liked and would wear, but not something that I’d get too attached to and would be sad to put under the needle of my sewing machine. All of the dresses were pretty, but none were exactly what I was looking for. I had to settle for a simple one with bell sleeves, which all it was really needing were some snips and slits to get to look just right.

I turned around and sighed, watching Molly’s tall, backcombed black hair bobbing in the crowd, as she continued her search for some baubles with which to adorn what was otherwise a pretty plain costume.

“I’ve decided I’m gonna ask Annie to dress up as the Good Witch of the North,” she declared, now carrying several jingling bangles in her wrists. “At least so she doesn’t come as a cat again. Cats aren’t scary…”

It was Molly’s turn to go through the pile of dresses. I watched her in silence, thinking about when I had gone to see that Madonna movie with Annie. Now, I had the feeling Molly’s tastes were probably closer to my own.

“Hey, uh, there’s this movie that came out last week,” I commented, once Molly seemed satisfied with her choice. “Fright Night—”

“Ah, yes, I’ve been itching to check it out!”

“What’d you say, if we go watch it next week?” I said with a shrug and a smile.

“Sure!”

I smiled even wider. Last time it had been Annie who had asked me to go to the cinema, since another friend of hers couldn’t make it. It had been a good time, but as kind as Annie was, I could tell we didn’t have that much in common besides being coworkers. Inviting Molly to come along with me, though, and having her accept, felt like a real confirmation of us being friends, or at least friendly enough. It was just the polite thing to do after she suggested I come to the Halloween party; but still, I did like that warm feeling of knowing that maybe this could be the beginning of a true friendship.

“You know, Tiffany,” Molly said with a little smile, getting in line to pay. “If I had known you were so cool, I’d have started talking to you sooner.”

I looked down at the long black dress I had picked. Whose fault was it, that she didn’t know how cool I was earlier?

“Oh –very important –you know how to make fake blood?” Molly asked me.

“Fake blood?”

“Yes, with corn syrup. For your vampire costume.”

“Oh, um, no…”

“No worries. I used to be quite the go-getter back at community theater. Makeup, costuming, set designing sometimes… Guess that explains a lot about me.”

I laughed. “Alright, you teach me how to make blood, I can teach you how to make really good fake nails for your witch costume.”

“Deal.”

We both repressed a grin and shook hands in mock seriousness. The line was moving slowly. I gave the dress another look, up and down and around, just to make sure I had made a good choice.

“… Why didn’t you or Annie ever talk to me before, though?” I asked her.

“We did!” she replied with a frown. “We invited you to stuff, to go out for drinks after work –but you always said you were busy. And besides, you always seemed so bitter and upset over your breakup, even after we gave you that makeover to try and cheer you up…”

I touched my now-blonde curls. The red had washed off completely, and I was back to bleached. It had been gradual, over the course of a few months, with just a decision to stop dyeing it crimson: but one morning I had looked at myself at the bathroom mirror, and saw the same happy moonstruck girl that had fallen in love last time. It was nice to see my reflection so happy again, and yet I was unnerved by remembering how that had turned out…

Molly smiled at me again. “Anyway, I am glad you’re feeling better now, though.”

I smiled back at her, hoping I looked thankful enough, and made an effort to push those gloomy thoughts off my mind, at least long enough so I could enjoy myself on the shopping trip with my newly appointed friend. All I needed was a distraction. And, thankfully, once I got back home, I had my baby to keep me distracted.

“Honey, I’m home!” I said in a sing-song voice, locking the door and kicking my heels off. “You here?”

He didn’t answer, but I saw his mop of dark hair hanging by the armrest of our little couch. That was what we had forgotten about, that time we went to the Ikea. We really needed an actual lounging chair, or something, so we could watch TV without having to find complicated ways to drape ourselves over that sorry excuse of a sofa.

“I got news!” I continued saying in a lilt, with a big smile, raising the bag with my purchases. “One of my coworkers told me about this Halloween party at The Raven’s Nest –a costume party! So we went buying things for our costumes…” I pulled the long black dress from the bag, dropping it and unfolding the garment for Chucky to see. “I got this on sale, isn’t it perfect? Though I’m planning to do some modifications…”

I waited for him to say something. He blew some smoke, still looking at the TV, which I then realized was not even on. A few seconds passed, in which none of us said anything. I finally huffed, losing my smile.

“You can at least pretend to be excited, you know,” I grumbled, folding the dress and stuffing it back in the bag. “I was thinking of inviting you to be my plus one, though I don’t think I’d want you to come along if you’re gonna go as Oscar the goddamn Grouch.”

He snorted a laugh, but didn’t do anything else. Typical of him.

“Alright, that’s enough. Why the silent treatment?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

Chucky finally turned towards me, giving me a look as if he had just realized I was there. “I just thought you’d be home by now, that’s all.”

“Geez, do I need to tell you when I go out and when I don’t, now? What are you, my mom?”

He took a drag and grumbled something under his breath. “What’s for dinner?”

I huffed. “I don’t know. See if there’s some leftovers in the fridge that we could heat up.”

“You could have brought something, since you were out shopping…”

“I was out with a friend,” I said, crossing my arms. “And the H-Mart isn’t exactly a hot spot, I gotta say. Not that you would know –you probably haven’t stepped into one in your life.”

At least before he met me, Chucky had a pretty shitty diet, consisting mostly of fast food and drugstore snacks. It was a miracle he was so skinny –though there was also the fact that he often forgot to eat his meals. He simply wasn’t hungry until he was reminded of it, for some weird reason. And, when he was hungry, he was usually straight-up starving. And an empty stomach didn’t help with a bad mood.

“There’s a food court at the mall, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he said. “People go there to eat, sometimes. You can even bring boxes of the stuff back with you! Does that ring a bell?”

I closed my hand in a fist. I had grown pretty thick skin over the years, but something that always particularly irritated me was when someone treated me like I was stupid. Of course, Chucky knew that very well. “Excuse me if I wasn’t feeling like having that crappy cardboard pizza again.”

After a whole afternoon of being out and about, I needed some coffee, pronto. Unlike Chucky who, despite everything, could be pretty fussy at times, I knew that a good quick rinse of hot water was enough to get the grime off old used coffee mugs –dirty dishes and cutlery were a different matter, of course, since they accumulated grease and crumbs –but with mugs and glasses, one could be a bit more forgiving. At its most difficult, the worst stain a glass could have was lipstick. I fished the mug that I always used, one that Chucky had gifted me for our first Valentine’s Day. It was the cutest thing, a creamy white with a fluffy grey cartoon kitten drawn on the side in the style of those pretty Hallmark card illustrations, a big blue bow tied around her neck. He had told me he had thought of getting me earrings or something like that at first, but that when he saw it at the store it reminded him of me, and that he liked to think it matched with his own Garfield mug. I still think it was the sweetest, most adorable present anyone has ever given me for Valentine’s. At the sight of it, I smiled a little, against my best efforts to stay angry.

“Where’s the sugar?” I asked out loud, opening the sugar bowl in the cabinet and finding it empty.

Chucky shrugged. “How should I know? Guess it would have been nice if you bought some on your way back, huh?”

“Don’t you work at a goddamn store?” I asked, slamming the cabinet door for emphasis. “Why don’t you take care of groceries for a change?”

“It’s a convenience store, not a grocery store!” he claimed. “And you’re the one who’s always saying we should eat healthier. What’d you want me to do, bring home a bag of Cheetos for dinner?”

“You know, it’d be something!”

“It’s not my fault you’re the one who knows how to cook,” he said, crossing his arms like a sulky brat.

“You can make a grilled cheese,” I replied. “You’re not that clueless around the kitchen.”

“There’s no cheese,” he said, pointing at the fridge.

“Then make scrambled eggs! Improvise!”

“I thought you liked cooking!”

I scoffed. “Like my mother used to say, ‘there’s such a thing as too much of a good thing’. Just because I like cooking doesn’t mean I dream of being chained to a stove for the rest of my damn life.”

“Jesus, you’re so dramatic…”

“I’d like to see you do it every single day, and then try and call me dramatic!”

He rolled his eyes at me. I think that was the last straw. I could reply to his teasing and his bitching, but when he decided that he had had enough, that I was the one being ridiculous, and that he wouldn’t even argue with me anymore –when I was clearly in the right –and assume a silent victory –that was when I would lose it.

“For God’s sake, I do everything here –I cook, I clean, I work the most hours –what do you do?” I yelled and stomped, demanding his attention. “You don’t even chip in! You just slack around, doing nothing—”

“Oh, sure, it’s really clear how much you’re breaking your damn back!” he yelled back at me, gesturing towards the sink, where the dirty dishes had begun to pile up. “And that’s without even mentioning the dirty laundry that’s begun to stink up the bedroom!”

I laughed out loud. “These are your dirty socks, baby! I should know –I’m the one who’s left having to darn them!” I cried. “Besides, you said you’d take it to the laundromat! You promised!”

“And I’ll do it—!”

“When? Huh? When?”

“I’ll –I’ll do it, eventually!” he stammered. “Right about when you wash one damn dish! I always have to end up doing it!”

“I’m the one who cooks here –it’s just fair that you at the very least help out with that! Like my mother always said—”

“Shut up with your goddamn mother’s sayings!” he yelled, covering his ears with his hands. “You’re fucking insufferable! It’s all bitching from you, twenty-four-seven!”

“Oh, so says Mister Happy Camper!”

“Aw, go get fucked, Tiff,” he said finally, opening his eyes wide and furious, in that way he did when he was about to lose whatever patience he had left. “Maybe that way you’ll loosen the fuck up!”

What could I even say to that? I was left speechless. Chucky had cursed me out a couple times before, so it wasn’t like it was unprecedented or out of nowhere; but it always felt like a particularly hurtful thing to do. I wished I had something half as hurtful to hurl back.

“How dare you speak to me like that!?” With everything that I did for him! “God, you can be so… So immature!”

He let out a mighty cackle. “Oh, I know you are… But what am I?”

I opened my mouth, but I didn’t have a reply. I knew that he’d just repeat that over and over, I knew him well enough to know that he had no shame to do such a thing. And, knowing he had won the argument by default, Chucky laughed at me, triumphant.

“Shut up! Shut up for once!” I yelled. He kept laughing, and laughing, and laughing… And I finally let out a scream, as loud as I could, loud enough to be louder than him, and in my anger I slammed my hands against the counter—

We both went quiet. We both looked down. My favorite mug laid shattered and in pieces, some still trembling on the counter, others in a brown puddle on the floor. The kitten’s face was cracked in half, still more or less recognizable as part of the ceramic puzzle. But it was certainly not just a little chip on the side.

“Sheesh.”

I brought my hands, holding the larger pieces, closer to my face. And I began sobbing. I wished I could say it was just out of anger, like I sometimes do when I get too mad; but I was truly sad, I can’t deny it. I really loved that mug.

Chucky clicked his tongue. “Come on, Tiff, it’s just a mug…” he said, rubbing my shoulder. “It’s no big deal. I’ll get you another one, an even nicer one.”

“It’s not just a mug!” I snapped, shrugging his hand off me, and a tear rolled down my cheek. “It’s the one you gifted me. For Valentine’s…”

“Well… You glue together dolls, right? China dolls?” he asked, and pointed to the collection on the mantle. “Aren’t china dolls and mugs made out of more or less the same thing?”

I wiped my runny nose. “Yeah… I guess.”

“So, you can put it back together,” Chucky said. He cupped my cheek with his hand, and wiped a tear away with his thumb. “Babe, come on, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

I sighed, exhausted at him and at myself, and leaned my head against his chest.

“… You know, I just miss you all the time, when you’re away,” I said to his heart. “When I have to be alone here.”

Chucky put his hand on my shoulder, stroking it gently, and slowly moved away to kneel and pick up the pieces of my mug. I kneeled too, and picked a few myself, careful not to get a cut.

“I miss you too.”

That’s all I wanted to hear. I just wanted to make sure he still loved me.

“Look, I’m… I’m sorry for not helping around,” he finally said, dropping the pieces on a little blue dish by the coffeepot.

“I’m sorry for not being around as often,” I said, dropping mine along.

“Is this gonna change anything?”

I looked up at him. Chucky kept his sights square on the blue dish, staring down the pieces I was going to have to glue back together. I wondered if he was really thinking about getting me a new one. A fixed mug might still be pretty leaky, after all. Still, even with one exactly like it, it wouldn’t be the same.

“No… No, probably not,” I admitted with a little chuckle. “I don’t think so.”

He gave me one of his half-smiles. “Yeah, I don’t think so either.”

We both chuckled bitterly, looking down at the now-cold puddle of coffee at our feet, and we sighed.

“Know what?” he said suddenly. “I think I still have an old werewolf mask I wore for a few Halloweens, back when I was a kid.”

I smiled. “You think it’ll still fit you and your big dumb head?”

He snickered. “I haven’t changed that much since then.”

“Boy, don’t I know that.”

He laughed. I giggled along, wiping away my last tears. It made no sense to argue so much, especially over such silly things. But we still did it, and it didn’t last long, but we could really hurt each other. Even if we managed to forget about it, I still had to wonder how much I could take before I really snapped. Or, on the other hand, how much Chucky could take himself, before he lost all patience with me.

As long as we loved each other, though, I had to believe that everything would be alright.

“Got any money left from your shopping trip?” Chucky asked, picking up the tie he had left hanging from the chair.

“Yeah, a couple bucks…”

“Ah, never mind that,” he said, tying the knot of his tie around his neck. “I’m treating us both to dinner tonight. What’re you in the mood for?”

I tapped my chin with the tip of my finger, pretending to give it some deep thought. “… Remember that little Italian place by Franklin Avenue, with the great food and the awful service?”

Chucky grinned, circling his arm around my waist and pulling me to him. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

I laughed, pulling him by his shirt collar for a kiss. “Let me put on my shoes and we’ll get going.”

“Don’t forget about your switchblade,” he said, putting on his coat. “I’m not sharing my knife again.”

“That was just one time! I never even take it out of my bag,” I exclaimed, holding onto his shoulder for balance and squeezing my feet into the heels. “And sharing won’t kill you, you know?”

He rolled his eyes. I huffed, but decided not to keep at it. It was nothing that couldn’t be fixed with a good meal and some fun for dessert.

“Ready to blow off some steam?” he asked with the keys in one hand, the other stretched out to me, his fingers twitching and hurrying me.

I nodded, skipping towards him, and grabbed his hand. I noticed there was a quiet buzzing in the air. I saw, just before we closed the door and left the apartment in the dark, a big fat fly hovering around the sink.

As we walked back home that night, hand in hand, sticky with strawberry ice cream and warm blood, I had the brilliant idea to suggest we played a few rounds of poker so we could decide who was gonna do the dishes, at least for the month. Chucky accepted, obviously; he never refused a game or a dare. He was quite better at it than I had expected, though of course, even as I turned a blind eye to a couple cards, I ended up winning by a landslide. He did manage to convince me to be the one to dry and put it all back into the cabinets, and, for extra measure, he also threw in a deal that he would choose what we had for dinner for the next two months or so. He already kind of did, though, so I didn’t mind much. So, while Chucky scrubbed the grease off the spoons, I dried what he had cleaned and put it back into the cabinets. When we worked together, it didn’t feel like the daunting mountain of waste it always seemed to be. If only we could find a way to keep it up, just like when, once in a blue moon, he would help me cook by chopping garlic and onions (since, for God knows what reason, he was the only person I had ever met who somehow didn’t tear up), I knew we could be so much happier together.

Not that happiness was in short supply that month, certainly.

I was really excited for the Halloween party, of course, but it wasn’t the only reason for celebration that month: our anniversary was coming up, too. Sitting on the kitchen table, with the TV keeping me company the Thursdays-to-Saturdays evenings in which I was home alone, I glued my mug back together in parts, building it up over the days, waiting patiently for the glue to dry fully before adding the next batch of pieces, while thinking about what we should do to observe the occasion. I considered booking us a table at some fancy restaurant, or preparing a picnic at Foschini Park, before finally deciding that it would be much nicer to just spend the day by ourselves at our apartment, enjoying a good homecooked dinner and each other’s company. I certainly liked big gestures, like last Valentine’s Day, in which Chucky got us a room at a swanky hotel; but sometimes smaller things were wonderful, too.

I prepared Swedish meatballs, his favorite, to eat along with that type of ribbon-like, flat wide pasta noodles, my favorite. Something wonderful about cooking was how the place would warm up, how it made what was otherwise our little, rather messy apartment, into something that felt much like a home. The water had already boiled and I had strained the pasta, now waiting in the pot to be served, while the sauce was bubbling and simmering on the stove. While he set the table, I changed into my nightdress and fixed my hair in front of the bedroom mirror, humming to myself.

“Don’t let the sauce burn, hun,” I called, breaking the silence.

“Alright…”

I took one last drag of the cigarette on our dresser, turning my head to see how my hair was looking. It was a truly lovely afternoon. The sun was setting, the last light of the day was streaming through the windows, and he was choosing a record to put on.

“I’m not in the mood for Alice Cooper again,” I said out loud, carefully taking out my curlers. “Put something else—”

Right on cue, Robert Plant’s wails came to me from the living room. I smiled. I left the pins on the box and walked in to have a better listen –and Chucky surprised me from the other side of the doorframe and hugged me from behind, picking me up and spinning around, and I let out a happy little squeal, grabbing onto his arms, before he lowered me back onto the floor. I leaned my head back, and he swayed his head to the music, mouthing the words against my cheek.

“I said, I can't quit you, babe…” I sang along. He laid a little kiss under my jaw. “I guess I got to put you down for a while…”

“Good choice?”

“Yeah,” I smiled, stroking his face. “Good choice.”

“This was my first record,” he said. I turned around just enough to shoot him a curious glance. “The oldest one.”

“Figures,” I said, closing my eyes. “I can imagine you so clearly… A little boy, having his whole world rocked, listening to this for the first time.”

Much like the books on his shelf, the record sleeve was so worn and cracked, and there was so much age and scrapes on the record itself, it made perfect sense it had some real nostalgic value. I wanted to ask him if it had been back when he lived with his family, or when he was already an orphan, living with other kids. Maybe a schoolfriend had come over and brought the record. Maybe it was a gift from his parents. Maybe an older kid at the orphanage had smuggled it in, and all the other children gathered round like they were listening to horror stories around a campfire, mesmerized by this hot new music, unlike anything they had experienced before.

I imagined that was probably a lot like what his first time had been like. A normal setting, a daily situation, interrupted by something life-changing.

“A year already…” I said, turning around to face him and resting my arms on his shoulders. “It’s amazing how time flies, huh?”

He nodded, his smile just the littlest bit weaker. I noticed it, though.

“What’s wrong?”

“… Is something burning?”

“Oh –shit.”

Chucky laughed while I ran to the stove to turn it off, and quickly checked on the tomato sauce.

“I told you to watch it,” I said, clicking my tongue. “Anyway –it’s done.”

“Good, good…” he chuckled, as I came back from the kitchen. “Hey, Tiff,” He took a paper-wrapped object out of his pocket. “This little toy seems to have your name on it.”

“Oh?” I perked up. “For me? What is it?”

Chucky grinned and tossed it at me. I caught it and ripped the paper as quick as I could. It was an absolutely beautiful nail file, shiny and silver, with a sharp edge on the side, sharp enough to slice. I gasped in delight, running the edge of it against my thumb, making the thinnest, most delicate cut, enough to break skin but not enough to draw blood. Beautiful. And miles better than my old rusty switchblade.

“Happy one year, babe,” he said, wrapping an arm around me and planting a kiss on my temple.

“Oh, Chucky… I love it,” I said, trying it out, filing one of my chipped nails. It was pretty good –heavy duty. With a bit of care, it should last me quite some time. “It’s exactly what I was needing.”

“It’s not the same as stabbing, you know,” Chucky commented. “But throat slicing’s an art you already master, after all.”

“Flatterer,” I said, turning my eyes towards him, pressing the nail file against my lips, feeling its perfect metal coldness, before smiling again and giving him a smooch. “It’s the perfect gift, darling.”

This reminded me of my own purchase. Giving him another quick little peck and slipping the nail file under the elastic of my stocking for safekeeping, I hurried back towards the doorway, where the coatrack was and where I hang my jackets and my black leather bag.

“I like to think that today’s special dinner is my present, but… I also got you this little something.”

I pulled a bag out of my jacket pocket, and carefully handed it to him. Chucky glanced at me, curious and excited, before opening the little colorful plastic bag and peeking inside. His reaction though, was, let’s say, underwhelming. He frowned, in what seemed to be confusion. For a moment I wondered if it had broken when I had brought it home.

“What is it?” I asked him.

“You tell me…”

“Well, take it out!” I chuckled. “Take a good look at it!”

Chucky picked it out from the bag and held it carefully in the palm of his hand. I smiled at the sight of it. It was this cute little porcelain clown doll, in a yellow outfit and hat, with little bells sewn to the tips of his shoes. It had this cheeky grin painted on, and half-closed eyes looking sideways, as if he knew some sort of naughty secret.

“Isn’t he the cutest?”

He kept examining it for a few seconds more –I swear, he just wanted to mess with me –but finally he let out a snicker. “It’s… Yeah. It’s the cutest little bastard of your collection so far.”

“My collection?” I repeated, putting my hands over his. “This one’s yours, sweetface…”

He shot me a confused look. “Really?”

I laughed. “Of course! It’s your present!”

“Oh… Okay,” he said, turning it around again. “Uh… Well, y’know, I have no idea what I should do with it. You’re the one who puts them around, sets them in their place…”

“Well, this one’s yours, so you get to decide all that.”

“Huh…” he muttered, inspecting the toy again, as if waiting for it to do a dance or say a joke or something. I began to wonder if it had been a good idea in the first place.

“Don’t… Don’t you like it?” I asked him.

“Yes, I do, Tiff, it’s just that… I don’t know –what am I supposed to do with a weird little clown?”

“Don’t I ask myself that question every other day,” I joked. He rolled his eyes. “You can just keep him around, like with any other toy. You can put it on the shelf with the rest of them, or you can put him in the closet to look after your shirts, or in the kitchen cabinet so he can watch out for rats—”

“Well, he looks pretty fragile,” he said. “Bet a determined rat could do a number on him.”

“Maybe he’s tougher than he seems,” I shrugged. “What would you name him?”

Chucky looked up at me, then back at the little clown. I could see how his face lit up as he was coming up with an idea. And, finally, he smiled. “I’ll keep him on the nightstand. He can watch over us… And we can call him Peeping Tommy.”

I burst out laughing. “Oh, so he’s an impish little one!”

“I bet he is,” he grinned. “Bet all the things he does when we’re not looking—”

“So, you do like it,” I said brightly. “I’m so glad.”

“Yeah, I like it… It’s just a really fucking weird gift, is the thing, Tiff.”

“What would you have liked, then?” I asked him, raising my eyebrows, while he leaned to the side and left little Tommy on the coffee table, next to the heart-shaped ashtray. “So I know what to be on the lookout for by Christmas.”

Chucky simply shrugged. “I don’t know… A pack of gum. A tie clip. A ham sandwich… Really, Tiff, I’m not that hard to buy for.”

 “Alright, then,” I said with a laugh. “We’re gonna have the best ham sandwiches available for our Christmas dinner.”

“That’d be just terrific,” Chucky smiled, and kissed me again.

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer. As we kissed, deeper and deeper, as his hand got closer and closer to the nail file on my thigh, my unfocused thoughts went to how full he made me feel, how I had never fit somewhere as perfectly as I did in his arms, how after a year, regardless of how short or how long a time it had felt, there was this knowledge that this was the love I was searching for, the only love in which I felt myself. Whoever I was when I was with him, it was the closest thing to a real me than there ever was. I think that back when we first met, when Chucky held the back of my neck and a butcher knife over my head, and I smiled at him and welcomed it, that was the first time I felt I was truly understood. I held him tighter, pressing myself against him fully, wanting to lose myself in him, all the while needing to breathe and needing the kiss to last a little longer. A year was not enough –I needed a lifetime. God, I wanted to be the one to bury him so badly. I wanted him to be the one to bury me.

“Did you ever think we’d end up like this?” I asked him, breaking the kiss, almost in a whisper. “A whole year together?”

“Did you?”

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

I scoffed, wiping his lips with the tip of my fingers –he had my lipstick all over his mouth, like a big red stain. Chucky scrunched his nose, playfully dodging my hand. “I think… I did. You know, I’d almost given up on dating by the time I met you. I had this really clear image in my mind, when I was a kid… Of this beautiful home, and this beautiful spouse, and these beautiful children, and this fairytale life… It was as if everything I did was just killing time till that dream came true. And then, then I had my last breakup,” I sighed.

He smiled proudly. I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, good for you, asshole, but back then I was devastated.”

“Good thing nobody ever broke up with me, then.”

“Nobody ever broke up with me either,” I pointed out. “That didn’t mean it was any easier on me. I was so hopeless, I felt like giving up completely.”

He frowned, still smiling. “Really? What were you gonna do with your life, then, before meeting me?”

I shrugged, clicking my nails. “I don’t know… Guess I was aimless. What about you? Did you have a plan?”

“No… Never,” he replied. I should have imagined it. “Like I told you, Tiff, best thing you can do is live for the day,” Chucky insisted, laying his hands on my shoulders. “You gotta get some fun out of life. Don’t you know? Every day above ground is a good day.”

“You ever thought of becoming a motivational speaker? You’d make a fortune,” I joked. “Back when I lived for the day, it felt more like I was chasing an early grave.”

“Guess that’s part of the fun,” Chucky said, looking away from my face and playing with one of my curlers. I tried to slap his hand off, but he laughed and kept trying to pull one off my hair. “The closest you are to the edge…”

“Guess you’re right,” I said. And I smiled to myself, thinking back of how we met. “Guess I’m the one who knows that best.”

“Bet you are.”

“Stop it,” I said, though I did let out a little giggle when he finally managed to pull a curler off, letting down a thick curl of bleached hair over my face. Chucky laughed too, tucking it away from over my eyes and to the back of my head.

“Don’t overthink it, Tiff. You overthink it, you drain all the fun from it. You’re thinking about what you should have done better, what you should have done instead… As long as you’re in control of the situation, what the hell does it matter?”

“Right,” I remembered his gift, the nail file that I had safely stored in my stocking, and pulled it out, holding it between our faces. “Can’t fear death when you’re the one holding the knife.”

Leaning forward just a bit, I ran the dull side of the file across his face, using the hooked end of it to pull a strand of hair off his face, just like he had done with mine. He stayed still, perfectly still, looking down at my lips, allowing me to stroke his cheek with his gift.

“Live for the day… That’s a good philosophy,” I whispered. I wondered if he was at the very least a little afraid of me right then. If he was, he was really good at not showing it. “What do you live for, Chucky?”

He took a deep breath and thought about it for a second. “I think… I live for that small moment of recognition just before someone’s killed. You know what they say, about your life flashing before your eyes… I think that’s bullshit. I think that the last thing passing through someone’s mind is the realization that there is no way out of this. That you are completely powerless to save yourself.”

Pontificating again. Sometimes I wondered if Chucky ever wanted to be a preacher. Or a Bond villain.

“And you like that?” I had never really cared about whatever went through people’s last moments. I just found their dying, oh-shit faces hilarious.

“I love that,” he smiled. But then he thought it over. “… I love when that happens to someone else.”

I wanted to ask him, is that why he didn’t kill me, that night when we first met? Did I not have that look in my eyes when he threatened me with that knife? Was that why he spared me? But I thought of a better, more straightforward question. One I didn’t quite remember having ever asked him before.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” I asked him, lowering my nail file. “Yet, at least.”

Chucky frowned, his hands holding my hips just a little bit tighter, pulling me closer. “Well, why didn’t you kill me either? God knows you had your fair share of chances.”

I laughed out loud. Certainly, right then and there, I was holding a sharp object dangerously close to his neck. One he had handed me himself, no less. “Isn’t it obvious? Because I—”

But I stopped myself right there. I usually don’t even think about it, when I tell someone I love them. And, besides, we had been a full year together. Still, even though I was sure I had told him, probably more than once, at some point or another, that I loved him, something made me change my mind at the last second.

“… Because I have fun with you.”

Chucky shrugged. “Same back at you.”

That felt good enough. I grinned and pressed my forehead against his, closing my eyes, focusing on the music, on the pressure of his body against mine. We both swayed to the music, kind of like dancing, softly, holding each other close. I wondered why I couldn’t just say it, that I loved him, right then and there. Maybe it was because I knew he knew already. He had to know –I showed him so every single day we were together.

“If you killed me, how would you do it?” I asked quietly. “Top three ways, don’t think too hard about it, just go.”

“Oh, um…!” He threw his head back, going through what was probably a list he already had made up in his mind. “Electrocution, because that’s always a blast… Second, maybe a classic stabbing –or maybe hanging –no, definitely, stabbing’s better—” I rolled my eyes with a little laugh. Of course he would go with stabbing. “… And I’ve always wanted to try splitting someone with an axe or something like that, right down the middle. See what’s inside.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So, being an axe murderer is still on your to-do list?”

“Yeah,” he sighed longingly. “Someday, I know it.” Having said that, Chucky pulled aside a strand of hair that I hadn’t managed to wrap around my curlers. “What about you, Tiff? How would you kill me?”

“Do I have to answer?” I asked him back with a little grin. “After all, now I got a heads up on what you might try to pull on me.”

“Yes, you have to answer,” he insisted. “I already told you mine, now you gotta tell me yours, it’s only fair—”

“Alright, alright,” I huffed, and looked up at the ceiling like he had done. “Hmm…” I did have to think it over. Chucky had obviously just listed the things he wanted to do and hadn’t had a chance yet. But I wanted mine to be more personal. “… I always thought maiming was an interesting approach.”

“C’mon, that’s not a real way to kill someone—”

“Yes, it is! If you make them bleed out—”

“But then that’d be death by blood loss,” he pointed out. “Not death by maiming.”

“Well, beheading, then. The most lethal maiming of the bunch. Then I might be able to keep your head in a shoebox in my fridge,” I said, twirling a lock of his hair around my finger. “Now wouldn’t that be nice.”

He chuckled. “Always the romantic, Tiff—”

“Okay, but second on the list, it would be burning…” I said. “Because I do really want to try that out sometime, too.”

“Jesus—”

“What? Too extreme?”

“You’re choosing all the ones that would keep me dying for longer.”

I laughed. “Oh, come on, as if electrocuting was nice, quick and easy.”

“And your last one?”

“… A shot to the heart. Truly nice, quick and easy,” I said lovingly, patting his chest. “I’d make sure it wouldn’t hurt.”

He smiled and kissed my nose. “How sweet of you.”

I smiled and kissed him back. I rested my head in the small of his neck, pressing my cheek against his shoulder. One of his hands went up and rested on my back, just between my shoulder blades. It was almost like a hug. I felt I could stay like that forever.

“… You know something I am pretty bummed by, Tiff?”

“Yeah?”

“That I wasn’t there to see your first kill,” he said wistfully. “It’s something important. Life changing.”

I giggled as I moved back from his shoulder, facing him again. “Don’t worry about it. He was just an asshole I was sort-of dating.” As with everything that had happened before us, he didn’t really need to know the details of our relationship. Just bringing up my last breakup made me feel a bit sick.

Still, Chucky was now intrigued. “Mm… But how did you do it? Shot to the heart?”

“Well, he asked me to shave him, because he was kind of high and wasn’t very lucid,” I explained with a tilt of my head, as I tried to remember the details. “He handed me the straight razor –I had done this a few times before. And, y’know, one thing led to another...”

He let out a little snicker. “You sliced his throat?”

I smiled to myself. Indeed I did. My first time. “Yes. Slowly at first, until he began screaming… Then I stabbed his throat to keep him quiet, before ending the slit just under his ear.”

“And did he keep quiet?”

“No, he kept doing this… This gurgling sound…” I said, furrowing my brow in concentration, looking back up at the ceiling, trying to remember what it was like. “I don’t know what did him in, really, the blood loss or the choking.”

“Mm… What else?”

I looked down back at him. He was grinning that familiar smirk, gazing at me with that smug look in his face. I huffed. “Alright, listen, just because I didn’t stab him fifty times doesn’t mean it’s not pretty good for a fourteen-year-old—”

He suddenly pulled me to him and kissed me, a different kiss, and then I realized what he had meant with ‘what else’. I closed my eyes and kissed him back, and after a moment I giggled, tugging at his hair to keep him a few inches away, just enough to answer.

“While he kept bleeding out, and trying to say something, I was still holding the razor…” I whispered. “And I had done it slowly enough that it was, you know, soaked—”

He moved down to kiss my neck. A moan slipped from my lips. It took a couple of seconds for me to remember what I was saying.

“… Soaked with blood. And his body went limp, and I knew it was over… And the blood dripped down to my hand –and trickled between my fingers –and it was this warm, thick thing going down my arm, as I kept looking at the razor…”

That seemed to do the trick. He kept kissing, now with a bit of teeth, moving down to my collarbone. I sighed, dropping my new nail file. His hand went down my hips and to my thighs, groping and pressing his fingers against my skin, and I bent a knee, welcoming him between my legs. And, as he pulled down my bra, licking his lips, I thought…

“—Wait –I got an idea, baby.”

Chucky groaned and grumbled, but I pulled my bra strap back up and hurried to my drawers. I had forgotten where I had put those things, if I still had kept them at all… But they had cost me a pretty penny, so I should have better not thrown them away by accident.

He eventually followed me into the bedroom, sulking, with his hands in his pockets. “Are you gonna share it with the class, or…?”

“Just look for a rope I got, they might be in there with the rest of the dolls,” I told him, still searching, making a gesture towards the nightstand.

“Rope?”

I turned to him. “Yeah, and handcuffs.”

His eyebrows shot up in what I could only describe as some kind of thrilled shock. “Handcuffs?”

I took a deep breath and put my hands on my hips. “Are you deaf? Yes, handcuffs, that’s what I said—”

“Are those for what I think they’re for?”

I gave him a smile. “Why else would I have handcuffs for?”

He nodded, looking around the room, and rummaged through the drawers of the nightstand, now slightly more hurried. I stifled a laugh at his sudden excitement. I went on through the drawers, until I finally found them among some old fetish outfits.

“Ah, here’s the sneaky little thing—”

Chucky practically jumped to my side. “So, is that your idea?” he asked, glancing at the stuff in the drawer, then at me, then back at the stuff. His fingers were twitching, as if he had received an electric jolt.

I nodded. “Are you interested?”

He let out a breathless scoff.

“Would this be your first time?” I asked him.

“Uh… I’ve tried it once or twice, but I think it never…” Chucky shrugged with something more or less similar to embarrassment. Or, rather, as close as embarrassment as someone like him could ever get. “It never quite worked out as it’s supposed to.”

“Shame,” I sighed, though, undeniably, this made the whole thing more exciting. “Guess I’ll have to teach you, then. We’ll go straight to the basics, first level, so you don’t get too overwhelmed too quickly,” I said, picking out one of my gloves. But I looked back at him and raised one finger. “Only as long as I’m in charge, Chucky. Got it?”

He let out a deep annoyed groan, like he did when he was about to throw a tantrum. To my surprise, though, he managed to strain through it, and soon was smiling his crooked smile again. “Alright. But next time we switch.”

“Of course,” I said. I pulled out the drawer and emptied it on the bed. “Now: what caught your eye?”

Chucky really had no idea at all. I ended up deciding for us, since he clearly didn’t know the first thing about what to expect. Since fully tying him up could get sticky pretty quickly, handcuffs would do. I gave him a quick explanation of what I had in mind, since I could see just how impatient he was for us to start; and, lastly, I told him about the concept of a safe word, since apparently in those previous attempts he hadn’t had become familiar with it.

“Alright… So, what’s the word?”

“‘Buttons’?” I suggested as I picked up the things we would use, and put the rest away back in the drawer. “You can say it at any moment you find yourself uncomfortable or afraid, and we’ll stop.”

“Afraid, sure—”

“There’s no shame in admitting you’re scared,” I told him with a straight face.

He just laughed, and, at my request, began undressing.

“Ah, ah –you’ll have to take it all off for it, darling,” I said once he stopped. “Briefs too.”

“What?” he frowned. “Why? What for?”

“I need to have full access to you,” I explained with an innocent shrug, as if it was obvious. “And besides, it’ll be much easier if there’s nothing between me and you.”

Chucky huffed, but complied. In the meantime, I watched him, dangling the handcuffs with one hand and holding my getup in the other. Only once he was done and fully naked in front of me, I noticed how awkward he felt by it. I was still clothed. It finally dawned on me. This was a first.

“… You okay, darling?” I asked him gently.

“Yeah,” he replied. The anxiety was obvious in his voice. “When do we start?”

“Almost there,” I smiled, and patted the bed. “Now, lie down.”

He shot me a quick glance that veered a bit too close to uncertainty for my taste, but once again, he complied. I took his wrists carefully and handcuffed them to the bedframe, and then moved down and did the same with his ankles.

“Remember, ‘buttons’,” I said right after the familiar little clicking noise that confirmed it was nice and locked. “Plural.”

“You sure you know how to do this?”

“Are you hesitating, Chucky?”

He scoffed at this. “Of course not. I’m just asking—”

“Don’t worry,” I said, going back to him, and leaving a little kiss on his forehead. “I got some experience.”

And, now with him immobilized, I gave him a wink and disappeared into the bathroom.

“Hey! Where are you going?” he cried.

“You’re ready, but I’m not!”

He groaned. “How long is it gonna take?”

“Just a minute!” I answered in a sing-song voice, taking off the curlers from my hair. I had left the bathroom door open, but I knew that, from where he was lying (and immobilized as he was), Chucky wouldn’t get a single peek.

There was some excitement in finally being able to wear those black knee-high boots for what I had gotten them for. Apart from them, I hadn’t worn any of the stuff for a couple years now, but fortunately everything still fit perfectly. Maybe the corset was a bit tighter than before, but that’s how it was meant to be worn, regardless. I went back and forth on whether I would wear stockings or not, but decided against it. The long black gloves were enough, and since the boots would be staying on, stockings would just be a bother. It may not seem like it, but there really was a lot of thought put into looking that good. Not that Chucky could ever really appreciate it, anyways.

“Hey, Tiff!” he called from the bedroom.

“What?”

“How much longer? My nose’s itching.”

I snorted. “If you can’t be a little patient, then you won’t be able to enjoy it!”

“Well, it better be worth it.”

I finished the lacing, threw on the spiked collar just for old times’ sake, checked myself in the mirror and made sure my makeup was right. I put up my hair and retouched my lipstick, taking a little longer than needed, grinning to myself while thinking of Chucky being bored to death all tied up back in the bedroom. Indeed, a couple seconds later, I heard what sounded like him banging the frame of the bed with the back of his head. I snickered, not even trying to remain serious, and I went back to the bedroom –and he immediately stopped banging his head when he laid eyes on me.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” I smiled, leaning on the doorframe, making sure he could see all of it. “Was it worth it?”

“… We're off to a good start.”

I walked closer to the bed, in no hurry. He automatically tried to move forward –pulling from the handcuffs, as if he had forgotten I had him restrained. I giggled. I think it was only then that the full situation finally hit him.

“Shit.”

“Now we start,” I declared, standing by the end of the bed. “Now, remember, one last time. The safe word is ‘buttons’. Are you gonna remember that, dear?”

 “Yes,” Chucky grumbled. “I’ve already fucking told you—”

“Hey, be polite, now,” I said, raising my eyebrows and a gloved finger. “You’re in no situation to be rude.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t push it, Tiff…”

“Pushing it is what it’s all about,” I said. “Unless you’d rather we just had dinner—”

“I didn’t say that,” he interrupted me. “I didn’t say anything like that.”

“Alright, then,” I sighed. This would be a true test of patience, it seemed. I only had one previous partner in this, but it had always gone quite smoothly. It would be stupid of me to think it would go like that with Chucky, though, of course. He always had to put up a fight.

Still, I thought with a smile, maybe that was what would make this the more fun.

“I’m gonna go soft on you, but you can always ask me to tone it down,” I said, climbing onto the bed, managing to keep my balance as I stood on the mattress on my high heels. “Okay?”

He nodded, but I wasn’t quite sure he heard me. He seemed a bit too distracted.

I smiled wider, down at him. And, slowly, stepped on his thigh, leaning my weight onto my heel. This was usually bad enough for a beginner to start to hurt. For some reason, though, he didn’t even flinch. I frowned. I let almost my whole weight on the heel in one go –and that he definitely felt.

“Fuck—!”

“That bad already, huh?” I giggled and raised my foot. “Baby, we’re just starting—”

“What, now I can’t even swear?” he snapped with a nervous grin. “You’re really being cruel…”

“Oh, I do try,” I smiled. I stepped on his thigh again, pressing a bit slower now. Without me saying anything, he did just try his best to grit his teeth and bear it, staring right up at me, without blinking once. I tilted my head. I pressed down harder. Chucky trembled just slightly. He was breaking. I went down harder, raised my chin, still staring him down.

“… Fuck –shit!”

I laughed and stepped off, dropping to my knees, sitting on his waist. “I win.”

“Congrats,” he muttered.

“Thank you,” I said with a smug smile, playfully drumming my fingers on his chest with my gloved hand, stroking his neck, his collarbone, his shoulders.

His expression softened a bit.

“Help me here a bit,” I said softly as I touched his lips. He shot me a puzzled look, but understood soon enough. He opened his mouth and bit the tip of my fingers. I smiled and pulled my hand off the glove. “Thanks, dear.”

He almost spit the glove to the side. I just had to laugh. There was something delightful in Chucky being restrained like that, he who always had restless hands, who didn’t like being still for long. Even then, just having to take the glove off his face, he was moving his hands in the handcuffs as if, if he just wriggled hard enough, he could get himself free. It was kind of cute.

I leaned down and touched noses. Chucky stretched his neck forward, trying to steal a kiss, but I moved back. He was so predictable. I knew fully well what he would try to pull.

“You really have a problem with patience, you know,” I said, pulling my other glove off and throwing it to the floor. Now, with both hands free, I ran my hands comfortably across his chest. “It’s kind of a pity.”

“Can you blame me?” he smiled.

I smiled back, slinking across him. “No, I guess I can’t.”

I reached down to his thigh, and felt the slight dent on his skin that was still there after I had stepped on it. I looked at it, curious to see whether it would bruise, and then back up to his face. If it still hurt him, it didn’t show. So, I went with the next best thing: I grabbed his thigh, just as he did with mine so many times, only that I had nails I could sink in. He let out a little groan.

“What, too sharp?”

He shook his head, swallowing a curse. “Just sharp enough.”

“Good.”

I dragged my nails up to his hip, scratching hard, feeling how he tensed under me. All of him was taut as a stretched rope, shifting all his weight forward.

“Tiff—"

“Hmm?"

Chucky opened his mouth, but couldn’t say anything. For once, he was speechless. I felt my pulse quickening. I had worked a miracle. I smiled and grabbed his dick. His jaw tensed as he gritted his teeth, with just a few muffled groans.

“You can be as loud as you want, baby,” I cooed in his ear. “I’m not gonna judge—”

“Fuck off, Tiff."

I grabbed him tighter. He let out something quite similar to a yelp.

“Then I’ll have to ask you politely, then,” I said, scratching it ever so slightly with my nails. “Could you please be a bit louder? Just for me. I’d like to hear you moan… It would help me, you know.”

“Jesus—”

“Won’t you give me a little help?” I said now, in a mocking plea.

He barely managed to smile. “If you want it so bad…”

It just had to be on his terms. He finally relaxed just a bit, as I kissed him deep, and he let out a small moan. But I wanted loud.

“Louder,” I ordered, and slapped his thigh. He groaned. “C’mon, darling, loosen up…"

“Make me.”

I slapped his thigh again, harder. “It’s such a boring game if you don’t play along,” I whined.

But I wanted to keep him guessing. I leaned down and kissed him, softer –to then surprise him with a little controlled bite on his lower lip. I tasted the tiniest bit of blood, and licked his lips with the tip of my tongue. He liked that. I sucked his bottom lip, tasting it more. He really liked that. I could tell by the rattling of the handcuffs.

“Such a pity you’re all… Tied up…” I grinned, moving away from him for a moment and kneeling again on the bed. He snorted a laugh. “… Bet you’d wanna do this yourself.”

I pulled down my panties, slowly, staring into his eyes, daring him to hold my gaze. He just couldn’t do it. Almost immediately he looked down, lips parting, as my hands went down my thighs, dragging the panties along.

“Bet you’d like to help.”

I sat on the space between his legs, and took the panties off from mine, off from my boots, and tossed them to the floor along with the forgotten gloves. I allowed him a moment to look down and enjoy it.

“Wouldn’t you?”

He chewed his upper lip. I smiled to myself, getting back on my knees, and sighed as I ran my hands over his arms.

“Such a pity—”

“Then let me loose, if it makes you so sad,” he said quickly, glancing back up to my face.

“So you wanna stop?”

“… No,” he said, after a few seconds of hesitation. “No. Keep going.”

We were really going soft this first time, only restraining him, barely doing anything else. The biting was usual for us. The scratching was a bit rarer, but I had nails, and I used them liberally. The slapping, that was new. But that was enough. Just to know I could do whatever I wanted to him, and that his pride would get too in the way for him to protest, was quite enough.

“Chucky…”

He looked up. I stroked his cheek, gently at first, before beginning to dig my nails onto his skin.

“Does it scare you, that I can do anything to you right now? Anything –and you can’t stop it?”

There was more metal clinking. I laughed. He really couldn’t get the whole being handcuffed thing through his head.

“I’m not scared.”

“You sure?”

I dragged my hand from his cheek to his throat. He stretched his neck, knowing what I had in mind. I sank my nails on his skin before opening my hand, stretching my fingers, and closing them around his neck.

“… You sure, Chucky?”

It was delightful, to see that little bit of fear in his eyes. I snickered, letting go. While unlacing the first few eyelets of the corset, I stared him down again. I wasn’t sure yet if he liked that half as much as I did –but God, it felt good to me. Focusing on his eyes, on his face, as I stood over him, was priceless. I just needed to hear the handcuffs rattling against the bedframe to know just how much he wanted to do things himself. Moving my hips forward and shifting my weight, and taking one deep breath, I slipped a hand down the front of the loosened top of the corset and grabbed my tit. Gazing at him, it was too easy to pretend it was his hand.

“Fuck…”

I smiled, closing my eyes for a moment, unlacing a few eyelets more. I felt his thighs moving from under my legs, trying to get closer. I sighed, freeing my chest from the corset, and heard a little shaky sigh coming from him as well.

“Tiff—”

Finally I smiled, opened my eyes and decided Chucky had enough to watch. I stretched my arms around his head and leaned down slowly, face to face. My chest barely grazed his. He looked down, his pulse racing, his mouth watering. I finally pressed myself against him, my chest against his, my hips against his, feeling him tensing up under me, and rested my head in the small of his neck. He gave me that nice moan I had been wanting so bad.

“Oh, hun—” I moaned in return.

He breathed against my ear. He wanted to say something –anything –he was desperate to have the last word –but his mind was blank. Me, I knew where his mind was.

I kissed his neck, softly at first, then biting down. He gave a little cry. I bit harder. I arched my back, making him focus on the pain. I couldn’t hear his breathing anymore –he was holding it. I pulled away ever so slowly, pulling the skin with my teeth. If I pressed just a little more, I could do some serious damage, I thought. I could rip the skin. I could rip out his throat like a wild dog. It took a lot of effort not to do it just out of sheer curiosity.

I let go. He breathed freely. I smiled and kissed again, just to keep him on edge. I went up, to his jaw, leaving little kisses all over it, while he pushed his head back, encouraging me to go ahead. I kissed and sucked and nibbled, thinking of all the marks I was gonna leave on him. My love. My Chucky.

I was getting wet already.

Finally, I threw my head back. He moved along with me, not wanting me to stop yet –but once he got to have a good look at me, he smiled again.

“God, look at you, babe…”

I grinned as I tilted my head to the side. “You haven’t had that view before, had you?”

He glanced over all of me again before fixing his gaze into my eyes. I ran my hand from his neck, to his chest, to his waist, to my thigh, up my waist and onto my chest. My other hand rested on his naked hip, holding him down and as still as I could.

“Easy…”

I stretched my hand towards his mouth. Right on cue, he opened up and sucked on two fingers hungrily, licking them, still staring into my eyes. He was finally doing as he was told without protesting. I pulled my wet fingers from between his lips and stroked my nipple, moaning quietly. He sighed. More rattling. I closed my eyes.

“You’re thinking that’s me…”

I smiled and nodded, biting my lip. My other hand travelled down and stroked, just barely, just over my pussy. He wouldn’t do that, though, I reminded myself. He always hurried a bit too much. He wasn’t a teaser. Not like that, at least.

“Tiff, you can’t fuck yourself like I can.”

I opened my eyes and looked down at him. Chucky was smiling his usual crooked grin. I don’t know why, but something about his tone just pushed me to it.

I slapped him, hard, right across the face. He looked at me in surprise, too shocked to even curse me out in response.

“Don’t get too cocky, dear,” I said coldly. Suddenly I wasn’t in the mood to smile. “Remember who’s handcuffed, and who’s on top.”

And, to my surprise, he grinned even wider. He gulped before talking back.

“Then act like it.”

A chill went down my spine. I slapped him again –he laughed –there were three thin red lines now crossing his cheek, where I had accidentally scratched him. I didn’t mean to do that. For a moment I was nervous, for just a couple of seconds, before he opened his mouth…

“You hit like a girl, Tiff—”

Again, harder. There was red dripping out his nose. He threw his head back and cackled, his eyes shining, and licked a bit of blood that had splattered over his lip.

“Now that’s more like it—”

I cupped his face, leaned down and kissed him hard. I couldn’t stop myself any longer. I grabbed his knee, still kissing him, and forced it higher, even though I could hear the metallic scraping of the handcuffs against the bedframe. I straddled his thigh. I grunted –it was warm where I had slapped him –and I began riding it.

Chucky let out a long groan. More rattling, more kicking, writhing furiously like a captured snake. He was tensing up to a dangerous degree.

“You’re gonna dislocate your shoulder, baby, if you keep at it,” I warned him gently, pushing him down with my hand on his chest. “And the pain of relocating it… It might be too much for one night.”

He let out a sudden laugh between gritted teeth.

“Stop squirming… Just relax,” I insisted, slowing down for a moment. “It’ll be easier.”

He closed his mouth, gazing at me with wide open eyes, and just nodded. There was a throbbing vein popping on his temple. But, slowly, through quiet breaths, he managed to loosen up a bit.

“… Good boy.”

I couldn’t have ever expected the result that would have on him. As soon as I said these words, Chucky got as flustered as a nun at a strip club.

“J-Jesus fuck, Tiff—” he managed to mumble.

My eyebrows shot right up. He never blushed before, even less this bright red. It looked like he was almost glowing. That, added to the blood smeared on his face, the scratches and the slapping…

“You really like this, huh, darling?” I hummed, grinding slow but steady on his thigh, just for him to get a taste of what was coming. “You look so cute like that…”

He whimpered, shutting his eyes tight, turning his face to his shoulder and hiding under his hair. The whimpering I liked, but not so much that he could still move enough to hide from me. Running my hand across his warm and reddened cheek, I got to his scalp, grabbed his hair and yanked it.

“Look at me,” I ordered. “Wasn’t that what you wanted?”

He still couldn’t say a word –just panted, just whined, like a little tortured animal. It was the loudest he had been in the year we had been together.

“You’re such a brat,” I said with a smile.

I reached for his dick. I barely had to graze it with the tip of my nails for it to stand on edge.

I giggled. “Well, that was quick—”

“Fuck—”

“Ah, ah, don’t you dare close your eyes,” I said, patting his cheek. “I want to see those baby blues.”

Whatever sort of release of tension he had managed, he got back in a second. Whatever, I thought. I liked watching him writhing regardless. I kept grinding against his thigh, harder and faster, pulling and stroking his dick along. Chucky groaned. It wasn’t easy for him to keep his eyes open.

“You like that, don’t you?”

Raising his sight to the ceiling, he took a deep breath and smiled, humming quietly. I stopped. He looked back at me with a sudden frown and a flash of anger in his eyes.

“Why d’you stop?”

“I asked you,” I repeated softly but firmly, leaning forward to him and brushing some hair off his face. “You like that?”

His expression softened a bit. “… Yes.”

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes…”

“Does it hurt?”

“Just… Just a little.”

“Want to keep going?”

He was so impatient. I could see him gathering all his strength not to curse me out. I just smiled, like he always did when he teased me. After a moment, he finally gritted his teeth and nodded.

“Use your words,” I ordered.

“I want to keep going,” he said quietly.

“I can’t hear you, hun.”

“I said, I want to keep going,” he repeated as he raised his voice.

“Then you better be good,” I said. “Tell me you’ll be good.”

Something had changed in the way he looked at me. There was still that flash of pure white-hot anger, which I had seen so many times before. There was something else there now, though. Chucky had been needy and desperate countless times –but never so clearly –it had never been so plainly reflected on his face. He was unraveling. The smug mask that was his face was cracking to reveal those little peeks I could only get a few times, when he couldn’t manage to keep himself quiet and composed, and showed his hunger. He knew he was good at making me tremble and moan and shriek (he knew and was proud of it), but too often he forgot I knew exactly what got him ticking, too. The big difference between us was that he was always too eager, too hurried to get to the good stuff. Me, I could be patient. I could undo him slowly, carefully, like unwrapping a present, or gutting a fish. If I wanted, I could have him begging for it.

Charles Lee Ray, begging. It was a lot less rare than it sounded.

“I’ll… Be good.”

I smiled at him, leaned down and let him have a tiny peck on the lips, as a reward. He leaned forward and managed to get me to linger on a kiss a moment longer. I giggled into his mouth.

“You said you’d be good…”

I reached for the nightstand and picked a condom, quickly ripped it open, and slipped it on him. He let out a delighted little breath of relief.

“We’re not done, baby,” I said. “Not yet.”

Pushing myself forward with my knees, I moved away from his thigh –he let out the tiniest, most adorable cry –and gripped his dick. He began breathing heavier, his chest and shoulders moving up and down with each pant. The rattling returned. I pushed it between my wet lips, spreading my thighs to the sides so he could see exactly what I was doing to him, how I was taking him in. But he wouldn’t get in yet. Not yet.

I leaned a little bit forward, resting my weight on my hand and my hand on his chest. He was hard, he was wanting, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction yet. I still wanted to have a little bit more fun.

“You really are fucking cruel—”

“But don’t you like it?” I asked with the biggest grin.

“God… I love it.”

I smiled, stroking his cheek. He leaned against my hand, pressing the side of his face to my palm. All I wanted was to look at him, to keep watching how he looked back up at me with that special type of affection that was so close to admiration. As if I was divine.

Just one more kiss, I told myself, breaking character. I leaned forward across the few inches that were still between us and kissed him long, and deep, and laughed against his mouth when his wrists rattled again, and I reached out for his right hand and intertwined our fingers. His hands were cold. Maybe there was little blood running through them. Whatever the case, Chucky didn’t complain. He kissed me back, and meanwhile, holding onto his hand, I moved ahead and began rocking my hips, pressing my pussy against his dick. Slowly at first, slow enough that, even with the condom on, he could feel how wet I was. But I was eager, probably just as eager as him, and it didn’t take long before I got moving faster, and by then I needed to throw my head back and take in a deep breath, and as much as I might have wanted to keep kissing him, we both knew this was coming.

I loved Chucky, of course I did, but I don’t think he ever looked as beautiful, as angelic as he did then: his face blushed, his mouth open and moaning and red from my smudged lipstick, his face shiny with sweat, his eyes tightly shut and his usually angry eyebrows, this time, raised and furrowed in needy despair. It was like falling in love with him all over again.

I was getting impatient, too.

Once I was more or less sure this was as far as we could both go while holding back, I finally reached behind me, turning around a little bit, like one would when parking a car. Feeling my way underneath my butt I grabbed his dick and, gently, pushed it up with my thumb and helped it find its way inside. I closed my eyes. Slowly, very slowly, I moved back down, feeling him sliding right in.

“Oh –that’s the spot,” I sighed with a smile and a shudder. “Mm…”

Chucky pressed the back of his head against the pillow, as I closed my thighs just a bit –clenching harder –letting myself fall on him, on my knees, against his legs. Then up again, slowly, before going down, and up, and down, savoring it. He looked like he was about to cry out. I grinned even bigger and closed my eyes again, wanting so badly to free his hands so he could hold me. Now, though, what could I do to make this one special? It was becoming hard to think clearly.

“Look up at me,” I ordered, my voice cracking.

He didn’t seem to hear me anymore. I slid my fingers through his hair, the top of his head, and yanked hard to call his attention.

“Look at me… Look at me, dammit.”

At last, he opened his eyes. They were glassy, and tired, but he smiled, and raised his chin, and looked at me. His eyes were so clear and light, I could see myself in them. I could see him seeing me. I had been wanting that so badly. In these eyes, I was glorious. I was the most beautiful creature that ever existed. I was wanted, and loved. I was finally seen.

I grinded harder against him, panting, faster, pressing down. Soon enough, I was moaning, and he was writhing, and the bed was creaking and we were at that point in which it was just a matter of time.

“Tiff—”

“Not yet…” I said between gritted teeth. My voice went higher as my heart beat faster and my mind was clouded to the point I could barely form a sentence. “J-just a little longer…”

“Tiff, please—”

“Just a little…”

He had never sounded like that before. God, it was so hard for me to pretend I wasn’t being torn to pieces by it. I understood how Chucky felt. Pressing himself to stay in character, to put on a front and adjust his mask. But it was slipping. And mine was next.

It was a game, like always. Who blinked first. Who laughed first. Who came first.

And he finally closed his eyes and came. The begging had lasted too little for my taste, but it always felt good to win. It was just a little bit longer before I came too, with a big smile, triumphant. And, as we both tried to breathe again, I noticed my arms trembling, and how Chucky himself was trembling ever so slightly. It definitely didn’t happen like that often. I knew I would love for it to happen often.

“Alright…”

I stood up on my wobbly knees and got off the bed. The corset, which at first was like a second skin, now felt too tight for comfort. I ripped it off me and dropped it to the side. Only then, once I managed to regulate my breathing, I decided I deserved a few seconds more in the afterglow, and, taking off the spiked collar, plopped right beside him on the mattress, lying my head on his left arm. Chucky’s face was still slightly blushed, red from my slapping, a mess of smudged lipstick (and I was probably not much better), and crossed by the bright red scratches I had left on him. I moved closer to examine them, and touched them with the tip of my finger, just to make sure I hadn’t hurt him too badly. It didn’t seem to sting anymore. It would heal quickly and nicely.

“Did you have fun?” I asked him.

Chucky smiled, his eyes closed. “… What d’you think?”

“I think you took it like a champ.”

I uncuffed him, carefully, and checked he didn’t get a cut or something.

“Tiff…” he mumbled, gazing up at me, still taking shaky breaths. “… I love you.”

I smiled at him. “I know, sweetface.”

And I kissed him once, sweetly, and snuggled against him, his warm cheek against my forehead, and with my ear against his heart, comforted in its steadying rhythm.

[my-weird-news]

10 Crazy Luxurious Celebrity Villas

Rich People's Homes: A Comedy of Excess 🏰 So, you're telling me that Jon Bon Jovi's idea of a "humble abode" is basically a castle? Move over, Kenny's dilapidated abode from "South Park." This mansion has probably got its own moat and drawbridge, ready to fend off intruders with style. I can just picture Jon strumming his guitar in his grand hall while humming "Livin' on a Prayer," surrounded by suits of armor. 🏰🎸 And then we've got Aaron Spelling in Los Angeles, proving that if you're going to have a villa, it might as well be the size of a small country. This dude's place is so massive that it could have its own gravitational pull. A swimming pool? Pssh, child's play. How about a gym, a bowling alley, a skating rink – because what else would complete the holy trinity of extravagance? 🎳⛸️🎾 Speaking of extravagant, let's talk Hugh Hefner. The guy throws parties that put even the wildest frat shindigs to shame. But really, who wouldn't want to attend a soirée surrounded by Playboy bunnies and Stan Lee doppelgängers? It's like a comic-con for the cool and suave. Bunny ears as the dress code – you've got my attention. 🐰🎉 Jerry Seinfeld's Hamptons home is the stuff of sitcom legends. The man loves baseball so much, he decided to build his own field right in his backyard. And why not? He's probably got enough "Seinfeld" royalties to afford a diamond-encrusted mitt. But seriously, why do rich folks feel the need to turn their homes into mini amusement parks? Maybe they're secretly training for the next episode of "Cribs." ⚾🏠 Conan O'Brien drops a casual $20 million on a mansion, and it's... decent? I mean, come on, Conan, where's the skating rink? The bowling alley? At least throw in a trampoline room for good measure. It's like he's slacking in the millionaire's mansion competition. Though, I do wonder if he's got a hidden treasure chest filled with oversized ginger wigs. 🎤🏰 Taylor Swift's Watch Hill mansion in Rhode Island is the epitome of charm. She snagged that gem for $15 million, and honestly, it's the perfect location for her next heartbreak ballad. But compared to Conan's "meh" mansion, she's basically living in a fairytale. Maybe she's secretly plotting to turn it into a real-life setting for her next music video – starring herself, of course. 🎶🏡 Now, onto the Smith family in Malibu. Reports claim their house is so massive, it has its own zip code. I can just imagine them telling people, "Yeah, just take a left at the basketball court, make a right at the tennis court, and if you hit the jumbo-sized swimming pool, you've gone too far." It's like navigating a theme park, but with better security. 🏀🎾🏊‍♂️ Arnold Schwarzenegger's California mansion is apparently up for grabs at a modest $23.5 million. I mean, that's just pocket change, right? If I had that kind of cash lying around, I'd be tossing it at Arnie's place faster than you can say "I'll be back." Maybe I'll find the Terminator chilling in the kitchen, blending protein shakes and offering sage life advice. 🤖💰 Michael Jordan's mansion is the stuff of legend, boasting 17 bathrooms and 9 bedrooms. I guess when you're the GOAT, you need an entire wing dedicated to bathroom options. And a garage that could house a small car dealership? That's just Jordan showing off. I bet he dribbles basketballs into the garage just to see how far they bounce. 🏀🚗 And let's not forget about Billy Joel. He's got a Mediterranean-style abode with a 60-car garage. Sixty cars? I can barely fit my bicycle in my garage without tripping over it. But hey, if I ever need a place to park my unicycle collection, I'll know who to call. Maybe Billy hosts garage sales where you can buy a mansion just to get the free car garage. 🏰🚗 In the grand comedy of rich people's homes, it's clear that excess is the name of the game. Who needs a modest abode when you can have your own kingdom complete with bunny-eared parties, zip codes, and enough bathrooms to host a royal parade? 🎉🏰👑# Rich People's Homes: A Comedy of Excess 🏰 So, you're telling me that Jon Bon Jovi's idea of a "humble abode" is basically a castle? Move over, Kenny's dilapidated abode from "South Park." This mansion has probably got its own moat and drawbridge, ready to fend off intruders with style. I can just picture Jon strumming his guitar in his grand hall while humming "Livin' on a Prayer," surrounded by suits of armor. 🏰🎸 And then we've got Aaron Spelling in Los Angeles, proving that if you're going to have a villa, it might as well be the size of a small country. This dude's place is so massive that it could have its own gravitational pull. A swimming pool? Pssh, child's play. How about a gym, a bowling alley, a skating rink – because what else would complete the holy trinity of extravagance? 🎳⛸️🎾 Speaking of extravagant, let's talk Hugh Hefner. The guy throws parties that put even the wildest frat shindigs to shame. But really, who wouldn't want to attend a soirée surrounded by Playboy bunnies and Stan Lee doppelgängers? It's like a comic-con for the cool and suave. Bunny ears as the dress code – you've got my attention. 🐰🎉 Jerry Seinfeld's Hamptons home is the stuff of sitcom legends. The man loves baseball so much, he decided to build his own field right in his backyard. And why not? He's probably got enough "Seinfeld" royalties to afford a diamond-encrusted mitt. But seriously, why do rich folks feel the need to turn their homes into mini amusement parks? Maybe they're secretly training for the next episode of "Cribs." ⚾🏠 Conan O'Brien drops a casual $20 million on a mansion, and it's... decent? I mean, come on, Conan, where's the skating rink? The bowling alley? At least throw in a trampoline room for good measure. It's like he's slacking in the millionaire's mansion competition. Though, I do wonder if he's got a hidden treasure chest filled with oversized ginger wigs. 🎤🏰 Taylor Swift's Watch Hill mansion in Rhode Island is the epitome of charm. She snagged that gem for $15 million, and honestly, it's the perfect location for her next heartbreak ballad. But compared to Conan's "meh" mansion, she's basically living in a fairytale. Maybe she's secretly plotting to turn it into a real-life setting for her next music video – starring herself, of course. 🎶🏡 Now, onto the Smith family in Malibu. Reports claim their house is so massive, it has its own zip code. I can just imagine them telling people, "Yeah, just take a left at the basketball court, make a right at the tennis court, and if you hit the jumbo-sized swimming pool, you've gone too far." It's like navigating a theme park, but with better security. 🏀🎾🏊‍♂️ Arnold Schwarzenegger's California mansion is apparently up for grabs at a modest $23.5 million. I mean, that's just pocket change, right? If I had that kind of cash lying around, I'd be tossing it at Arnie's place faster than you can say "I'll be back." Maybe I'll find the Terminator chilling in the kitchen, blending protein shakes and offering sage life advice. 🤖💰 Michael Jordan's mansion is the stuff of legend, boasting 17 bathrooms and 9 bedrooms. I guess when you're the GOAT, you need an entire wing dedicated to bathroom options. And a garage that could house a small car dealership? That's just Jordan showing off. I bet he dribbles basketballs into the garage just to see how far they bounce. 🏀🚗 And let's not forget about Billy Joel. He's got a Mediterranean-style abode with a 60-car garage. Sixty cars? I can barely fit my bicycle in my garage without tripping over it. But hey, if I ever need a place to park my unicycle collection, I'll know who to call. Maybe Billy hosts garage sales where you can buy a mansion just to get the free car garage. 🏰🚗 In the grand comedy of rich people's homes, it's clear that excess is the name of the game. Who needs a modest abode when you can have your own kingdom complete with bunny-eared parties, zip codes, and enough bathrooms to host a royal parade? 🎉🏰👑 Read the full article

[aemiron-main-backup]

WillEl: Schrodinger’s Twins

Hello, anon! I had seen some of those thoughts previously, but now that I’ve gotten this ask, I’ve decided to take a deeper look onto it!

So, do I think Will and El are biological twins? Yes and no. Not that I’m undecided, but literally, yes AND no. They both are and aren't related, depending on the timeline.

Looking at this post, there’s something specific that I disagree with:

“El nor Will are related to Henry by blood,”  This is something I can agree with but ONLY when we consider Edward. IMO, one way or another, in at least one timeline, El is a Creel. There’s very little doubt about that in my mind. 

However, I think she’s most likely the daughter of Edward Creel, rather than Henry Creel, and Edward and Henry don’t seem to exist in the same timeline. And I agree that Will is never related to Henry or Edward/is never a Creel.

So,  Mike and El are both Creels/related in the Edward timeline but El is NOT related to Will in the Edward timeline.

AND

If Mike and El are NOT related in the Henry timeline, and El IS related to Will in the Henry timeline.

Then that’s how I can see the Creel-Wheeler and Willel twins stuff coexisting without Mike and Will being related, as even through timelines, they would not be related, as Will is never a Creel, and the timeline where El is a Creel is the one where she is not related to Will. This would also track with Will seemingly having two different birthdays (March 22nd and May 22nd)- one where he shares a birthday with El, and one where he does not. 

If I had to choose between El and Mike being Creels vs WillEl biological twins though, I think there’s more evidence to support the former, although like I said, they can coexist when we consider Edward and timelines.

So, if Edward is El’s father in one timeline (the timeline where she’s NOT biologically related to Will but IS biologically Mike’s cousin), then who is her father in the other timeline?

This is a difficult question because we don’t know how many timelines there are, but I think there’s these options: 

1.) Henry

Since Karen is only related to the Creels in the Edward timeline, Henry Creel could still be El’s father without Mike and El being related (and therefore without Mike and Will being related if Will and El are related). However, this would mean that Henry is also Will’s father if Willel biological twins is true, and it would also mean that Mike and Will ARE related through timelines, so I think we can write off Henry as being El’s father.

2.) Brenner 

He's an option I guess, but I don't really see him being El's biological father (setting aside henry/edward/brenner parallel weirdness)

3.) Hopper

There is a line that I noticed when it comes to the question of “could Joyce and Hopper have had kids?” 

Especially since right after that line about Joyce and Hopper screwing, somebody yells “WILL!” 

So, in one timeline Edward and Terry are likely El’s parents, and in another, Joyce and Hopper are likely El’s parents.

There is no doubt in my mind that El is a Creel in at least one timeline. The evidence is absolutely there for it. 

James has made some great posts about this resemblance here, here, here, here, and here.

And I think that anyone using the resemblance between El and Joyce as evidence for them being related also then needs to consider the very strong resemblance (and constant parallels) between El and Henry/Edward, because otherwise, it feels like cherrypicking evidence rather than looking at what the evidence actually is. I'm NOT saying that chirpsythismorning is cherrypicking evidence, I'm just saying this in a general sense, which also includes me needing to acknowledge that there is a resemblance between Joyce and El just like there is between El and Henry/Edward. Hell, we literally see El with the name "Eleanor," with a blonde wig (like Henry/Edward), wearing a dress VERY similar to Alice's style of dress, with roses on the wall, staring into a mirror (all of Henry/Edward's mirror imagery), and then she later gets referred to as Mike's cousin in that EXACT outift. El and Mike are absolutely Creels in one timeline.

However, I think that El is Edward’s daughter, not Henry’s and that in the timeline where El is Edward’s daughter, Will and El are not biological twins, and Mike and El are only related in the Edward timeline.

Summary

Timeline 1: 

Edward Creel is El’s biological father, fathering El in the lab as part of Brenner’s attempts to recreate him. 

Terry Ives is El’s biological mother. 

Joyce Byers is Will’s biological mother. 

Mike and El are blood cousins. 

This is because in the Edward timeline, Virginia Creel is Victor Creel’s daughter/Edward’s sister and Alice Creel is Victor Creel’s wife/Edward’s mother. 

Their roles are swapped from what they are in the Henry timeline. 

And this makes Mike and El cousins because Karen Wheeler is very, very likely Daughter Virginia/Edward’s sister in the Edward timeline (with Connie Frazier being Mother Alice), and so, if Edward and Karen are siblings, then their kids, Mike and El, are cousins in the Edward timeline. 

Karen Wheeler is a Creel (Daughter Virginia)

Hopper and El are not blood related. 

Will and El are not blood related. 

Joyce and El are not blood related. 

Timeline 2:

Edward Creel does not exist in this timeline. Henry Creel is not El’s biological father. El is not a Creel. Mike is not a Creel. 

Joyce Byers is El and Will’s biological mother. 

Will and El are twins/blood related. 

Mike and El are not cousins/not blood related 

Karen Wheeler is not a Creel 

Hopper and El are possibly blood related, as he is possibly her father and Will’s father 

Brenner and El are possibly blood related, as he is possibly her father and Will’s father. However, I think Hopper being the father is more likely, as he seems to be Will’s father in one timeline and if Will and El are twins, then he’s also El’s father.

I hope this makes sense. Narratively, do I love the idea right now of Hopper being El's biological father? No. But I'm confident that if that's what ST is doing, then they're going to do it well, and I also acknowledge that there does seem to be a fair bit of evidence pointing to it. Who cares what I do or don't like if the evidence is there for it! And again, I'm sure that if they're doing it, it'll be done well without undermining the found family themes in ST. And I absolutely, firmly believe that El is a Creel in one timeline, and that Mike is also very likely a Creel in that same timeline. Will is never a Creel, though.

This theory combines the Wheeler-Creel analysis with Jo’s “Willel twins,” analysis which, frankly, I think is the best way to approach this because it means we don’t have to ignore any evidence (such as all of the things that point to El being a Creel AND all of the things that point to Willel twins).

As well, I also think there’s a chance that Will and El aren’t related in any timeline and that El is Edward’s daughter in one timeline and Henry’s in another (and Will and El are never related so Mike and Will still are never be related) and that Hopper is simply Will’s biological father, not El’s, but right now I’m leaning towards what I laid out in this post with twins in one timeline vs not twins in another.

Also, if anyone is still confused about what the hell I’m talking about with Edward Creel, where he came from, how Karen and the Wheelers etc play into it, you can find a post explaining Edward here. And here is the initial post about Karen Wheeler being Daughter Virginia from the Edward timeline.

have you seen @chirpsythismorning ‘s thoughts about Hopper and Joyce being Will and El’s biological parents? and if you have what do you think about it

WillEl: Schrodinger’s Twins

Hello, anon! I had seen some of those thoughts previously, but now that I’ve gotten this ask, I’ve decided to take a deeper look onto it!

So, do I think Will and El are biological twins? Yes and no. Not that I’m undecided, but literally, yes AND no. They both are and aren't related, depending on the timeline.

Looking at this post, there’s something specific that I disagree with:

“El nor Will are related to Henry by blood,”  This is something I can agree with but ONLY when we consider Edward. IMO, one way or another, in at least one timeline, El is a Creel. There’s very little doubt about that in my mind. 

However, I think she’s most likely the daughter of Edward Creel, rather than Henry Creel, and Edward and Henry don’t seem to exist in the same timeline. And I agree that Will is never related to Henry or Edward/is never a Creel.

So,  Mike and El are both Creels/related in the Edward timeline but El is NOT related to Will in the Edward timeline.

AND

If Mike and El are NOT related in the Henry timeline, and El IS related to Will in the Henry timeline.

Then that’s how I can see the Creel-Wheeler and Willel twins stuff coexisting without Mike and Will being related, as even through timelines, they would not be related, as Will is never a Creel, and the timeline where El is a Creel is the one where she is not related to Will. This would also track with Will seemingly having two different birthdays (March 22nd and May 22nd)- one where he shares a birthday with El, and one where he does not. 

If I had to choose between El and Mike being Creels vs WillEl biological twins though, I think there’s more evidence to support the former, although like I said, they can coexist when we consider Edward and timelines.

So, if Edward is El’s father in one timeline (the timeline where she’s NOT biologically related to Will but IS biologically Mike’s cousin), then who is her father in the other timeline?

This is a difficult question because we don’t know how many timelines there are, but I think there’s these options: 

1.) Henry

Since Karen is only related to the Creels in the Edward timeline, Henry Creel could still be El’s father without Mike and El being related (and therefore without Mike and Will being related if Will and El are related). However, this would mean that Henry is also Will’s father if Willel biological twins is true, and it would also mean that Mike and Will ARE related through timelines, so I think we can write off Henry as being El’s father.

2.) Brenner 

He's an option I guess, but I don't really see him being El's biological father (setting aside henry/edward/brenner parallel weirdness)

3.) Hopper

There is a line that I noticed when it comes to the question of “could Joyce and Hopper have had kids?” 

Especially since right after that line about Joyce and Hopper screwing, somebody yells “WILL!” 

So, in one timeline Edward and Terry are likely El’s parents, and in another, Joyce and Hopper are likely El’s parents.

 

There is no doubt in my mind that El is a Creel in at least one timeline. The evidence is absolutely there for it. 

James has made some great posts about this resemblance here, here, here, here, and here.

And I think that anyone using the resemblance between El and Joyce as evidence for them being related also then needs to consider the very strong resemblance (and constant parallels) between El and Henry/Edward, because otherwise, it feels like cherrypicking evidence rather than looking at what the evidence actually is. I'm NOT saying that chirpsythismorning is cherrypicking evidence, I'm just saying this in a general sense, which also includes me needing to acknowledge that there is a resemblance between Joyce and El just like there is between El and Henry/Edward. Hell, we literally see El with the name "Eleanor," with a blonde wig (like Henry/Edward), wearing a dress VERY similar to Alice's style of dress, with roses on the wall, staring into a mirror (all of Henry/Edward's mirror imagery), and then she later gets referred to as Mike's cousin in that EXACT outift. El and Mike are absolutely Creels in one timeline.

However, I think that El is Edward’s daughter, not Henry’s and that in the timeline where El is Edward’s daughter, Will and El are not biological twins, and Mike and El are only related in the Edward timeline.

Summary

Timeline 1: 

Edward Creel is El’s biological father, fathering El in the lab as part of Brenner’s attempts to recreate him. 

Terry Ives is El’s biological mother. 

Joyce Byers is Will’s biological mother. 

Mike and El are blood cousins. 

This is because in the Edward timeline, Virginia Creel is Victor Creel’s daughter/Edward’s sister and Alice Creel is Victor Creel’s wife/Edward’s mother. 

Their roles are swapped from what they are in the Henry timeline. 

And this makes Mike and El cousins because Karen Wheeler is very, very likely Daughter Virginia/Edward’s sister in the Edward timeline (with Connie Frazier being Mother Alice), and so, if Edward and Karen are siblings, then their kids, Mike and El, are cousins in the Edward timeline. 

Karen Wheeler is a Creel (Daughter Virginia)

Hopper and El are not blood related. 

Will and El are not blood related. 

Joyce and El are not blood related. 

Timeline 2:

Edward Creel does not exist in this timeline. Henry Creel is not El’s biological father. El is not a Creel. Mike is not a Creel. 

Joyce Byers is El and Will’s biological mother. 

Will and El are twins/blood related. 

Mike and El are not cousins/not blood related 

Karen Wheeler is not a Creel 

Hopper and El are possibly blood related, as he is possibly her father and Will’s father 

Brenner and El are possibly blood related, as he is possibly her father and Will’s father. However, I think Hopper being the father is more likely, as he seems to be Will’s father in one timeline and if Will and El are twins, then he’s also El’s father.

I hope this makes sense. Narratively, do I love the idea right now of Hopper being El's biological father? No. But I'm confident that if that's what ST is doing, then they're going to do it well, and I also acknowledge that there does seem to be a fair bit of evidence pointing to it. Who cares what I do or don't like if the evidence is there for it! And again, I'm sure that if they're doing it, it'll be done well without undermining the found family themes in ST. And I absolutely, firmly believe that El is a Creel in one timeline, and that Mike is also very likely a Creel in that same timeline. Will is never a Creel, though.

This theory combines the Wheeler-Creel analysis with Jo’s “Willel twins,” analysis which, frankly, I think is the best way to approach this because it means we don’t have to ignore any evidence (such as all of the things that point to El being a Creel AND all of the things that point to Willel twins).

As well, I also think there’s a chance that Will and El aren’t related in any timeline and that El is Edward’s daughter in one timeline and Henry’s in another (and Will and El are never related so Mike and Will still are never be related) and that Hopper is simply Will’s biological father, not El’s, but right now I’m leaning towards what I laid out in this post with twins in one timeline vs not twins in another.

Also, if anyone is still confused about what the hell I’m talking about with Edward Creel, where he came from, how Karen and the Wheelers etc play into it, you can find a post explaining Edward here. And here is the initial post about Karen Wheeler being Daughter Virginia from the Edward timeline.