#peak delusion town how we doing?????

[dontcallmeeds]

[hotcryptidsinyourarea]

Falling for the Frogman of Loveland, Ohio

story synopsis: Molly is a 30-something cookbook editor who has decided to move from New York to Loveland, Ohio after a bad breakup and a desire for a fresh start. She is instantly attracted to her neighbor Jeremiah's midwestern charms, but this local guy is much more than meets the eye...

human (she/her) + interdimensional humanoid frogman (he/him) cw: social anxiety, existential pondering, negative self-talk

Chapter 3

My body and mind are so exhausted, I sleep in an hour later than I usually do. The fact that my new bed is very comfortable also facilitates this late start, but I don’t really have it in me to complain about that. I finally pry myself from between the sheets and get dressed for my first full day in my new home. First thing’s first: coffee. 

I do a quick search for the closest non-chain coffee shop to my place. Part of the appeal of moving to a smaller community is supporting the local business culture. Never again will I spend $10 on a tall, burnt-ass latte from the Bucks. There’s one on Loveland Madeira alongside all the other fast food chains, but I’m going to avoid it like the plague. It’s the weirdest thing in New York: everybody talks about how much they love their neighborhood coffee shops, but no matter when or how you see them in real life, there will always be that ubiquitous siren-logo’d cup planted firmly in hand. It’s like some grand delusion we all pretend we’re not a part of. 

No that I think people in a small town are paragons of virtue or anything. I know there is hypocrisy and assholes everywhere you go. But you spend enough time in one place and eventually you have the right to gripe about it as much as your little black heart desires! Or that’s what I tell myself, I guess. Part of me will always love New York and I truly look forward to going back and visiting. But the agitation I feel at just a passing reminder of the city tells me I made the right move leaving town. I just hope this place ends up being where I’m supposed to be. 

Well, what better way to get a feel for a new town than running a couple of normal, domestic errands? Namely: coffee. Let’s fucking gooooooo!

_____________________________________________________________

I’m loving the decor at the Blue Chip Roasters coffee shop. The amount of hearty wood furnishing and exposed burl fixtures gives it a Twin Peaks vibe without being derivative. It’s warm and homey and the scent of fresh coffee brewing makes my mouth water. There’s a huge wraparound counter that isolates the staff area behind the machines and cash register, which lines up with the doorway so you can walk right up to it. On the other side of the counter are bar stools occupied by various coffee drinkers who are all immersed in their books or laptops. It’s simple but welcoming. A satisfactory first impression, for sure. 

It’s a blessedly simple menu. They only have two types of milk, whole and oat, but I’ve never strayed from the classic whole milk-coffee combination anyways. Full fat means full flavor and that’s what I want. I order a double iced latte and a cinnamon roll for breakfast. As I drop in a dollar for tip, I notice the jar is covered in stickers and such all depicting some artists’ renditions of an anthropomorphic frog. In big block letters it reads: 

>> DON’T FROG-ET TO TIP! - LFM <<

“Who is LFM?” I ask the girl working the register. 

“Oh, it stands for Loveland Frogman. You’ve never heard of it?” 

“I can’t say that I have, but I’m new in town. Like, brand new.” 

“Oh, well it’s just a dumb local legend. Years ago, a couple cops saw a lizard standing on its hind legs and told everyone they saw a Frogman. Locals have kind of taken it on as a mascot of sorts even though it’s fake as fuck.” 

“It’s NOT fake,” says the kid behind the espresso machine pulling shots. “The Frogman is real. That lizard story is a cover-up ordered by the FBI. Ask anyone from around here and they’ll tell you a story about them or someone they know spotting him at some point.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” the cashier rolls her eyes. “The people that claim to see him are just dumbasses lying so they can be the center of attention for a moment. Either that or meth heads.” 

“It wasn’t a frog at all,” says a third worker sweeping something up behind the counter. “It was an alien. A being from another dimension. That’s why the FBI wanted to cover him up. No one cares about some overgrown science project.” 

The local color of it all has me stunned silent. I am not used to talking this much with strangers. Honestly, I felt like I was pushing it by asking the cashier in the first place. I was half expecting a snide fuck-if-I-know dismissal. And now after instigating the conversation, I find myself at a loss for words. Great! I have no idea how to get out of this in the correct, polite way. I’m a decade out of practice. Thankfully, a voice coming from a bar stool in my periphery offers me a blessed interjection to keep me from looking as dumb as I feel.  

“Don’t listen to them. They’re just messing with you because you said you’re new in town. We don’t get a lot of ‘new’ around here often. A lot of the same,” says the guy. I turn to look at him, remembering the most rudimentary of manners, but what I see doesn’t help my muteness because this dude is good looking. 

Very good looking, one might say. 

Ridiculously, if you’re so inclined. 

I get that feeling in my chest that makes me feel like I’m twelve years old again and my friend Jessica’s older brother Adam would walk in the room while we watched TV– like it’s suddenly difficult to to take a full, deep breath and a heat spreads across my shoulders and chest. I can’t remember the last time I felt this way. I am completely flustered. I break eye contact to fumble through my wallet for an extra couple dollars to throw in the tip jar. Fuck! I need to work on my spontaneous conversation skills. I wasn’t expecting to experience culture shock quite to this extent, but I guess even just one state away is a whole other place, isn’t it? 

“Where are you from?” asks the guy. A straightforward question that I am perfectly capable of answering… hopefully. 

“I moved here from New Yor–” I manage to croak out, stumbling over that last syllable. I clear my throat. “York. I moved here from New York.” 

“New York City?” 

“The very one.” 

“Why would you leave New York to come to Loveland of all places?” he asks. “Most people are doing everything in their power to make it out of here.” 

“Oh, you know, sometimes the place a person needs is the last place you’d expect,” I reply. Looking back at the cashier, they have an incredulous look on their face like I’m speaking crazy talk. 

“Whatever you say, lady.” They hand me my coffee, my transaction finally complete. I lift the cup in salute and give a tight mouthed smile to the hot guy at the bar. He lifts his cup in return, a good humored smile plastered on his face. 

As I leave the coffee shop and settle into the driver’s seat of my car, I’m suddenly hit with the realization that I answered that hot guy’s question with the kind of trite bullshit normally reserved for Pinterest quotes. 

“Sometimes the place a person needs is the last place you’d expect,” I repeat back to myself. “What the FUCK does that mean, you dumbass weirdo bitch?” The heat I felt across my chest has definitely spread across my face. Luckily, there’s no cute coffee guy to see my embarrassment as I drive back home. 

_____________________________________________________________

Once I’m back home with my coffee and cinnamon roll, I park it back outside on the iron patio set and enjoy my breakfast. With a little food and caffeine in my system, I realize I may have been overreacting to the little interaction at the coffee shop. It probably wasn’t as bad as it was in my head. I was just hungry and fatigued from moving. No big deal. 

I hear the doorbell and go to let the internet installation technician inside. I’m impressed that he showed up so early in the estimated service window. It wasn’t uncommon for me to wait all day for a tech in New York only for no one to show up when they said they would. The next day or so, I’d often get a call while out and about. 

“Hi ma’am it’s George from Concast. I’m here to install your internet. Can you let me in?” 

“Let you in? You were supposed to come yesterday. I didn’t get any notification that you’d come today– I’m not here.” 

“Well, I need to be let in to install your internet…”

“But I’m not there. We’ll just have to reschedule.” 

“Next availability is in two weeks.” 

“GODDAMMIT. Wait right there– I’ll be back as soon as possible!” 

But none of that rigamarole is happening now. At this moment, I am reading a book on my back patio with an iced coffee and a cinnamon bun while Lyle sets up my fiber internet at the exact time he was scheduled to do it. Life is good. 

Okay, I may be looking at everything with rose colored glasses, but I’ll allow myself to bask in my new home serenity for a little while longer. What can it hurt to take the time to enjoy the fact that things are going smoothly? Back in the city, it felt like I was constantly having to strive for things to work. They rarely did and any hint of them possibly doing so was dashed with such expedience I never allowed myself the luxury of thinking that I possibly deserved for things to be easier. 

There was no way for me to get to that point when stuck in constant survival mode. The city is a beast, constantly growing. So even if you get to a point where you’re realizing some sort of comfort, the beast will continue to expand and shift until your complacency gets you displaced. It’s exhausting! I guess the hustle gives you something to live for– that’s why you see so many 80-year old women wandering around the streets of Manhattan. But they’re a hard eighty. And you can’t help but think they’re not there because they want to bust their asses just to make it through a day, but because they simply don’t even know there are other ways to live. Humans are creatures of habit. We find comfort in conformity. We create these confines and then tell ourselves because we made them, we must also work within them. 

It’s logical: as animals, we are bound by evolutionary instinct to find and keep a lifestyle that enables us to be productive– namely, reproductive– so that drives us to make choices that are safe and keep us connected. But I don’t think it’s extreme to say we as humans can and should continue to evolve past base evolutionary drive. It’s not imperative for all of us to be constantly productive. We have machines and programs that help us do a lot of the heavy lifting so that we may spend more time enjoying the world we’ve been gifted. And just as these advancements further separate us from any quote/unquote “natural way” of existence, we should consider the possibility that breaking free from our patterns and choosing not to conform to the established expectations may serve us positively. 

Of course, it’s that “new is better” mindset that led Mark to breaking up with me. He saw moving in together as conforming to the established expectations of those around us and he couldn’t do it. So perhaps I’m a hypocrite waxing poetic on the evils of conformity. No ideology would’ve stopped me from moving in with him. I was dead set on doing the expected. 

Except, I didn’t see it as settling. I saw it as an exciting new experience that just happened to promise a bit of security alongside the novel. There is adventure to be found alongside someone you can rely on. I guess at the end of the day, we broke up over a difference of perspective. If you’re going to build a life with someone, you should both see your future from the same vantage point. 

_____________________________________________________________

With the internet working and full stomach, I’m ready to continue unpacking. It’s not so much the unboxing that’s taking up my time. But with every essential item I unwrap, I’m reminded of something I’ll need to buy in the process of turning this house into a home. It feels a little consumerist, but I fully intend to take my time in accumulating these items and purchase with quality in mind, so I don’t sweat it.

Well, I don’t sweat the prospective shopping. Unpacking boxes does work up quite the literal sweat, however. It’s almost 6 pm and I am in desperate need of an end-of-the-day shower. Before I hop in, I pull up a food app and find the best rated Thai restaurant in my delivery area. I put in an order for pad thai and spring rolls and receive an hour delivery estimate– plenty of time to get clean before dinner, so I hop in the shower. 

I’m right in the middle of rinsing the conditioner from my hair when I hear the doorbell. An hour was either an incredibly inaccurate delivery estimate or it took me much, much longer to wash my hair than it normally does. 

“WAIT!” I holler towards the door as I wrap myself in my favorite extra large, super fluffy bath towel. “I’M COMING! I’M COMING!” I scurry as fast as I can to the door, probably looking like a drowned rat. 

“I’m so sor–” I halt as soon as I see who’s on the other side of the door. It isn’t my Thai food at all. It’s the guy from the coffee shop– the hot one who rescued me from my social awkwardness. He has that charming smile on his face, but it fades a bit as he gets a good look at me. In a breath of realization, his eyes go up to the sky as a pink blush spreads across his face. It’s kind of adorable, to be honest. 

“I am so sorry,” he says. “I’m your… we’re neigh– I live a couple doors down,” he fumbles through. “I wanted to come over and welcome you to the neighborhood.” 

“We– we met earlier, right? At the coffee shop?” I find myself once again in a situation I haven’t experienced in quite some time. Fourteen years in New York and not once did I have a neighbor come to my door to introduce themselves. I’m not even certain if I’m expected to invite him in. I certainly don’t know how to proceed when I’ve opened the door but a single layer of terrycloth between my nude body and the– admittedly gorgeous– welcome wagon. Thankfully, the wagon in question seems steady on the trail. 

“Yes! Yeah, that was me. Hey– I can, you know, wait here a second if you want to…” he makes a vague gesture towards the towel. 

“Oh! That would be great, yes. But you don’t have to wait outside. Please, come on in.”

He gives me a wary look. “Are you sure? I don’t mind…” 

“Yeah, I guess it’s not exactly best practice to let some guy I just met into my home while I’m changing, huh? I’m sorry, I just don’t want to be rude.” 

“You’re not, I promise. Go ahead, I can wait here. I’m patient.” 

Now I’m the one who’s blushing. Blushing a nude in front of a strange man. Mother would be so proud. I give him a sheepish smile as I close the door then scurry back to my room to throw on the nearest clothes I can get my hands on. I make a pit stop to take a peek in the bathroom mirror, rub the smudged mascara from under my eyes, and run my fingers through my hair. It’s not much, I think looking at my sorry state, but it’s what I got. 

I head back to the front door and take a moment to compose myself to come off with a false air of nonchalance. Fake it til you make it, right? 

I open the door and see him leaning against the wall and looking through his phone casually. I notice for the first time he’s holding a bottle of wine in the other hand. He looks up and catches my eye. A smirk sprawls across his face. 

“Woah– that was quick!” he says. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t have a lot of things unpacked here at the moment, so I don’t have much to sift through. Cuts down on the decision fatigue when choosing what to wear, for sure.” 

His smile brightens and it puts my entire body on high alert. I may not be nearly naked anymore, but looking at this guy makes me feel so exposed, like he’s seeing things about me that I’m not even aware of. I’m a grown ass woman, but this guy has me feeling bashful for the first time in years. 

“Come on in,” I move aside and open the door completely to let him inside the house. “I think you’ve proven you’re trustworthy enough.” 

“Cool, yeah.. I mean, thanks.. Yeah.” His stammering is endearing. There’s something comforting in the shared awkwardness as if the meeting of two awkward nerds cancels us out into being normal. “I’m Jeremiah,” he introduces himself and holds his hand out to shake. 

“Molly,” I grasp his hand in return. “It’s nice to officially meet you.” 

“Yeha! I hope you don’t find this creepy, but earlier I noticed the internet guy in your driveway and realized someone had finally moved into this place. The for sale sign was taken down about a week ago and I was wondering when you’d show up. Then when you said you just moved here at the coffee shop earlier, I thought maybe the new owner could be you.”

“And it is!” I interrupt. “I mean, I am. That is to say… It's kismet.” Jesus Christ. Is that something people say? Can I even define “kismet?”  Am I just embarrassing myself here? 

“Exactly!” His smile breaks my shame spiral. “It’s always worth noting when we get to witness the stars aligning in real time.” He holds the bottle of wine up to eye level for me. “I brought you a housewarming gift. It’s nothing special– I wasn’t even certain if bringing wine to a stranger is appropriate. But it’s a pretty dry red. I thought if you don’t drink, you can use it for cooking.” 

“I do! I mean, I do drink. Thank you, you’re very kind and I feel quite welcome.” I take the bottle and scan the label. It’s a Chianti I’ve never tried before. “This looks beautiful. Would you like to have a glass with me?” 

“Um… sure! That sounds nice. Do you have glasses?” 

“I don’t have stemware, but I have a couple cups that will do. Plus,” I pause to rummage in the drawer where I stashed my well loved wine key the night before, “I have this!” I grab the water glasses I have from the cupboard and start working the corkscrew into the top of the bottle. 

“Please, allow me.” Jeremiah takes the wine and key from me and effortlessly drills deep into the cork, angling the bottle away from him. He looks me directly in the eye as he pushes the lever away from him and removes the cork with an muffled POP.

What in the actual fuck? How was that so… hot? 

He grabs the glasses and distributes even, modest pours in each of them before handing me one. “Cheers,” he says, lifting his own glass, “to your new home.” 

“And new neighbors,” I clink my cup against his, immediately questioning whether that was smooth or just pathetically thirsty. Either way, I take a sip. I notice his eyes darting around, taking in the details of the house. 

“This place is almost the exact same layout as my place, just reversed.” 

“Really?” I ask. “Is that unusual?” 

“Not really, no. These subdivisions are financed and built before they’re ever sold. Developers will have a handful of blueprints and rotate between them while building. I guess keeping everything as uniform as possible allows them to churn out houses quickly and reduces the risk of error. You build the same house over and over again, you can probably throw them up in your sleep.” 

“Or they get so overconfident and cocky, they begin to slack off and make mistakes.” 

“Oof. You’re telling me. Complacency can definitely lead to miscalculations.” He takes another sip before continuing. “Happens in my work all the time.” 

“Oh yeah? What do you do?”

He winces. “It’s kind of hard to explain– not that it’s beyond your understanding,” he reassures me and my heart melts ever so slightly. “But, basically, I track and predict rainfall.” 

“You’re a meteorologist?” 

“No. I don’t really know much about weather in general. It’s more like I use statistics to estimate which places will experience flood or drought in the near future. I then use those estimates to inform the purchase and sale of certain commodities.” 

“Commodities. Like food?” 

“Food is a big part of it, yes. But also a lot of precious metals and whatnot. And oil. There’s always oil.” 

“So you’re a gambler,” I tease. He grins in response. 

“An informed gambler, yes. But, you know– no risk, no reward.” 

“Well it does sound pretty interesting. More so than what I do.” 

“Which is?” 

“I am an editor for a publishing company that specializes in highly stylized cookbooks. A lot of Housewives for housewives kind of content. I basically make sure that what the authors– or, at least, their ghostwriters– put in their drafts all make sense. You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve caught cups– multiple cups– of salt from being added to a dessert recipe.” 

“That sounds interesting to me,” he says, being polite. I appreciate it nonetheless. “So does that mean you know how to cook a lot of different things?” 

I guffaw. “In theory, at least. I’m not a talented chef by any means, but I can make a meal.” I realize that at every chance I get, I’m diminishing myself in this conversation. When did I fall into that little habit? But before I can think much more about it, my doorbell rings. “Speaking of meals, that would be the takeout I thought you were.” I answer the door and thank the delivery person after they hand me my order. When I come back, I see Jeremiah rinsing out his now empty glass of wine before gently placing it in the sink. 

“Well this seems like the perfect opening for me to make a graceful exit. I’ll leave you to enjoy your dinner.” He gives me a genuine smile and reaches out to shake my hand goodbye. “It was really great meeting you. I’m excited to have someone cool in the neighborhood. And if you need anything, anything,” he gives my hand a squeeze on the emphasis and while making some very effective eye contact, “don’t hesitate to ask.” 

Damn. My new neighbor is hot.

[skullaton]

Ch 1. You've wandered too far from home

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Wally Darling / GN Reader

Rating: M Summary:

The city is full of people. Then why did it feel so lonely? Memories of clinking bottles and dazzling neon lights flickered through your mind. Misty, car filled streets with humans, but no humanity. A bridge and a phonebooth. And a sweet voice that wanted you to come home. You've wandered too far, and you don't know how to get back. But don't worry! You've made some friends from a colourful town that can help you!

TW: Childhood trauma, scopophobia, alcohol references AO3 link: here Wally logo by Clown

A sweet voice drawled from the other end of the receiver, “I just thought you needed a friend.”

“I don’t have any friends,” you shot back venomously.

A gasp! “Well, I could be your friend!”

Tears began to prickle at your eyes.

“No, you can’t. You won’t want to be”

“Why’s that?”

“I’m a freak. A loser. A waste of space.”

He clicked his tongue, “Nonsense! I think you’re the absolute most!”

Most… most of what?

He continued slowly, “Do you want me to come get you? Do you need help?”

Now you’re sobbing. You sit on the chipped asphalt, hand grasping the phone as if it were a lifeline. Your eyes clenched shut as tears flooded down your face. You hiccupped helplessly into the receiver, all while a soothing voice on the other end whispered saccharine praises.

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

Your head pounded, a terrifying reminder of last night’s escapades. You felt the heat of the sun warming your skin, the brightness of the day begging to be let into your vision.

You squeezed your eyes shut further and rolled to the side, the hard, metal surface pushing into your skin. Few more minutes of sleep, you begged internally. Please.

“Where did they come from?” A cheery, quizzical voice chimed from a direction.

“I don’t know, but what if they’re hurt?” a mother hen chirped in.

“Well, frankly speaking, they’re definitely an outsider. Maybe we should be more cautious.” A nasally voice responded.

Too much talking. You can’t fall back asleep now.

Your lids finally flutter open, cringing at the brightness that invaded your senses. You released an audible groan as your head pulsed. As the world started to focus, you noticed a ring of people surrounding you.

Adrenaline kicked in, churning away the remaining inebriation. You shot up, feet planting on the ground. The crowd, in response, jumped back in surprise.

You could feel your heart hammering in your chest as you stared wide eyed at the people. They didn’t… look human. Each one was vibrantly coloured, adorning fuzzy shapes and cartoon-esque dimensions. This is it, you lost it. You really lost it. You’re in Elmo’s playland now.

You pushed your palms into your eyes, rubbing the remaining sleep from them.

Everything was… loud. Not just the people, but the colours. So many colours.

You dared not to peak from your hand-hiding spot. Your voice creaked out, the scent of alcohol rich on your breath. “Where… am I?”

A different voice from earlier responded. It was a velvety, smooth monotone. The ends of his words tilted in friendliness, “Oh, why, you’re in the neighbourhood of Home! Good morning, neighbour!”

You dared to peak from your haven, stealing a glance at the blue pompadour wearing figure. He smiled softly, his sleepy eyes locking with yours.

This must be a dream. That’s the only thing you can think of.

You decided to play along, your hands finally falling to your lap. “’Home?’”

“Yes,” the gray-coloured … puppet? spoke matter-of-factly, “It’s a small town in the outskirts of a forest.”

You released a noncommittal noise before trying your luck at standing up. You swayed a bit, but you were able to find your balance. A giant bird creature had reached out her wings to try to catch you in case you fell.

“Well,” you started talking to your own ‘delusions’, “I really should get going. To go to my actual home.”

The one with the pompadour and blue cardigan spoke again, starting his statement with a low hum. “That would be really far, friend. It’s a few days trek through the forest to reach the nearest town.”

A coldness pitted in your stomach. You released a nervous laugh, “Th-that’s impossible. How did I even get here then?”

Everyone looked at each other in confusion, a concerned frown marking all of their faces. The puppet with tiny horns spoke softly, “Do you not remember?”

You wracked at your brain to try to remember the events of last night. The memory of desolate city streets and the clank of bottles echo in your mind. You grasp at your forehead to try to remember. Nothing. You cursed your terrible habit for indulging in liquor.

A tightness clenched at your chest as you tried to breath. A dread settled on your senses as reality came crashing down. If this really were a dream, you’d wake up now, right?

You slapped the palm of your hand against your cheek, the sound of flesh on flesh creating a smack. The stinging on your skin confirmed that this was definitely real. The puppets around you simultaneously jumped at the noise

It became harder to breath. Your lungs desperately tried to fill with air, but your throat tightened in defiance. The rainbow characters all crowded you, hands outreached to catch you if you were to fall.

The Mr. Rogers knock-off spoke in his soothing monotone, “H-hey, neighbour. Take it easy. You don’t look so well.”

Your legs wobbled as you sat back down on the metal bench behind you, your hands cusping your cheeks. “This can’t be real…”

“Oh dear,” the Big Bird-adjacent crooned worriedly, “Take deep breathes!”

The cardigan man pushed passed his friends to sit by your side. He leant down to try to reach your gaze. You begrudgingly followed his pupils, your head feeling light, your senses fuzzying.

“Deep breathes,” he instructed slowly, sucking in air, and then slowly exhaling to demonstrate. “In… and out.”

You took in shaky breathes, following his exercises. You willed your throat to ease, the air now filling your lungs easily. The static from your mind was lifting.

He only smiled, eyes never leaving yours. “Better?”

You nodded gratefully, “Much.”

The other puppets released the breath that they were holding.

“How about we settle you with a nice cup of tea?” the feathered one stated sweetly.

The horned monster’s face lit up instantly, her pitched voice grating your ears, “Like a TEA PARTY?”

You stiffened at the suggestion. The man next to you never gave up his eye contact before speaking, “Maybe a bit more low profile. Like a tea picnic?”

“That… I think that sounds good,” you agreed, voice low, your body still tickling from the adrenaline that pumped through your blood.

The four puppets escorted you off of the bench, which was located right outside of a local store. You caught a glimpse of a sign that stated, ‘100% off!’. You scoffed internally at the absurdity.

They made their way to a small hill in the centre of the town. The bird and monster scampered off to get some supplies, leaving you with the gray and yellow puppet men. You awkwardly stood, arms folding across your chest. Suddenly, your shoes were very interesting to watch.

It didn’t help that they were both staring at you like you were an alien.

The gray one cleared his throat, “I don’t believe we caught your name?”

“Oh,” you finally glanced up, cautiously disclosing your name to them. “And… what are your names?”

The cardigan puppet released an audible gasp, offering a kind smile, “Oh my! That’s not very neighbourly of us! I’m Wally.”

The grey one gave Wally a side eye, that defining frown furthering even more. “And I’m Frank.”

“And the others?”

As if on cue, the bird came over with a folded checkered blanket. Frank gestured to her, “That’s Poppy.”

The monster puppet tagged behind, holding a metal tray with a full teapot and cups. She spoke up for herself, a beaming smile gracing her fuzzy features, “I’m Julie!”

Poppy unfurled the blanket and settled everything down neatly, gesturing to you, “It’s so nice to meet you.”

You sat down with the others, reintroducing yourself to Poppy and Julie as they passed around hot cups of herbal tea. You relished in the feeling of heat against your skin, the soothing aroma already calming your frayed senses.

“Does this make you feel a bit better?” Poppy watched you worriedly as she sipped from her cup.

You took a sip of the tea, the sensation warming your exhausted body. It wasn’t McDonalds, but this was the next best hangover remedy. “A bit better now, thank you.”

“So,” Frank started, voice dripping in skepticism, “you really don’t remember how you got here?”

“Last night is really fuzzy right now,” you tried to explain without exposing how you binged. You don’t even know if these cartoons would even know what that is. “But I’m sure it’ll come with some rest.”

He was unsatisfied with the answer, but he decided not to pry, sipping his tea in silence.

Wally interjected, scooting closer to your side, “But it’s good that you stumbled upon this neighbourhood! It would have been bad if you got lost in the forest!”

“That’s true…” you mulled over the thought. That would probably not be ideal.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted movement from a towering being with multiple arms. You scrambled back, tea sloshing to the ground as this apron-clad creature approached the group. You held back a yelp as you decided to cower behind the shortest member of the group - Wally.

Wally looked on, amused at your antics. His low voice called out to the intruder, “Oh, hello Howdy! Would you like to join us?”

The multi-limbed creature was huffing, looking absolutely frazzled as he held a paper bag full of goods, motioning to you, “Oh, there you are! I was packing a welcoming bag for you, and you just vanished!”

You peaked out from behind Wally, giving him a squeaky, ‘Huh?’

Howdy bent his legs to sit on the blanket, carefully extending out the bag of goods to you. He offered it to you as if you were a lost animal, trying to coax you out into safety.

You cautiously scooted closer to view the contents. Shifting through the items, you spotted some canned food, a tooth brush, tooth paste, and some bottled water. “B…but why?”

He finally relaxed onto his back legs, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck while the others rested on his knees. “I found you passed out on the doorstep of my bodega! You didn’t look so well, and… as a responsible shop owner, I have to take care of my customers!”

The niceness was overwhelming. You can’t remember when the last time people were this nice to you. You swallowed heavily, forcing down any emotions that were trying to surface. “What do I owe you?”

Howdy offered a smile, “Nothing! But maybe when you’re feeling better, a few jokes would pay off the debt!”

You had no idea how to process this information, agreeing just to nod.

“So,” Julie started, leaning forward a bit, “How can we help you get back?”

“They’d have to prepare for a journey, that’s for certain,” Frank stated matter-of-factly.

“A few days walk,” Poppy hummed sadly, “I suppose I can prepare some food for your journey!”

The group of puppets collaborated with each other, each offering ideas on how to help. You sat back in silence as you watched them, dread settling back into your stomach.

The only one not offering advice was the man next to you.

Wally.

He was watching you with his droopy eyes, a calming smile gracing his lips. He leaned over to whisper to you, that tone of his sounding even more sedated, “This must be a lot for you.”

You gave him a nod, the hopelessness creeping up into your thoughts. You tried your best to soldier a placid expression.

“Maybe you should rest for the day and think about it?”

“Where would I even stay?” your voice betrayed you as it cracked with fear.

He hummed, letting silence rest between you two for a few beats. Finally turning back to the crowd, he spoke at his normal tone, and everyone seemed to stop to look at him. “Where should they stay in the mean time? We could plan another day, when they’re all rested.”

Everyone looked at each other. Julie started prattling that it should just be a giant sleepover, at which Wally quickly dissuaded.

“Well, I do have a spare room in the bodega,” Howdy started slowly. “It’s not much, but there’s a bed.”

“I can’t let you do that!” you interjected. “You already helped me out!” You gestured to the groceries he gave you.

Howdy gave a sheepish smile and shrugged. “It’s the least I can do for a new customer! Besides, it’s only until you set off, right?”

You gave a glance at the crowd, hoping that someone could help dissuade from the sheer amount of niceness.

Nobody intervened. They all smiled and praised the idea. Your shoulders slumped in response.

“Well, that settles that, then,” Wally leaned back, giving you a relaxed smirk.

A pent up sigh released from your nose. You resigned to the generosity of others.

After some time, everyone helped pack up the picnic supplies, which ended with happy farewells, and until tomorrows. The group dispersed, now it was just you, Howdy, and Wally.

“Are you ready to see the room?” Howdy had leaned down to talk to you.

You shifted the paper bag in your arms as you gave him a hesitant nod.

Howdy started down the hill, his long legs guiding him quickly to his shop. Watching him move, you found it hard to even lift up your feet. The uncertainty of everything was still heavy on your mind.

You sensed a pair of eyes staring at you, which you assumed was the cardigan puppet. What you gathered from today is that he really loved to stare. Perhaps he didn’t realise he was doing it? You dared to give him a shy glance.

Sensing your nervousness, Wally’s voice had dropped down into his pacifying whisper, “If you want, you can give me a ring once you’ve settled in?”

You didn’t answer immediately. You really don’t want to burden anyone else right now.

You thought about how he helped you today, how he was the first to give a helping hand to all your worries.

Maybe… you really did need a friend right now.

A tiny smile played on your lips as you nodded, “What’s your number?”

Wally’s smile furthered at your response.

“And this,” Howdy flicked on some overhead lights, “will be your room.”

He introduced you to his humble bodega. In the back of the shop was a storeroom, hosting shelves of ordered products that needed to be organised. A tiny cot hid in the far corner as well as a mounted wall phone.

“It really isn’t much.”

A warmness spread through your chest at the quaint arrangement. You can imagine him dipping into the back for a nap on slow days. You gave him a thankful smile, “I really appreciate this, Howdy.”

The caterpillar flushed, waving away your compliment. He started to make his way out the door, “The bathroom is upstairs, down the hall, to the left. Let me know if you need anything.”

He closed the door with a click.

You released a full body sigh as you flung yourself onto the bed, the cot creaking under your weight. You relished in the privacy from the chaotic day. Your muscles ached, screamed for any type of solstice from the rampage of events.

So much has happened. And quite frankly, you had no idea how to process any of it. What if this all was just one big hallucination? You played with the thought a bit as you dug into the grocery bag for you tooth brush.

You also really couldn’t wait to scrub every bit of last night’s events off of you.

Once you heard no more movement from Mr. Pillar, you padded your way to the bathroom. You gazed at yourself in the mirror and saw a husk of a human.

Well… you definitely saw better days.

You ran your hands under hot water, scrubbing your face in the sink.

Your mind wandered as you tried to remember last night. Quick snippets were slowly revealing themselves, but nothing to really tell a whole story.

You brushed your teeth and tongue vigorously, freeing yourself from any remaining evidence of alcohol.

Maybe with sleep, you’ll remember more.

Satisfied, you maneuvered back to your makeshift room. You stopped in front of the phone, contemplating whether to give the strange yellow puppet a call. Would Howdy mind if you used his phone this time?

You weighed the options for a few moments.

You decided to pick up the receiver and dial the number.

A nervousness rumbled your stomach as the line rung. After the second ring, that low voice answered.

“Hello~?”

A frog was in your throat as you tried to speak, “H-hi, Wally?”

You could hear him smile through his voice, “Why, hello there! How are you settling in?”

“Well, it’s definitely a day, alright.”

“Ha ha ha,” Wally gave a bizarre laugh. It caused goosebumps to run down your arm. “It definitely was, wasn’t it?”

You rubbed the back of your neck. “I just wanted to thank you for being so nice today. You didn’t have to be.”

“Nonsense. That’s just what friends do for each other.”

A sourness settled in your mouth. ‘Friend’, huh…?

“Hello~? You still there?”

You pulled yourself from your thought, “Y-yeah, I am.”

“Do you think you will be able to sleep tonight?”

“I hope so. I desperately need it, at this point.”

He hummed in agreement. “Well, if you need anything at all, please feel free to call me.”

This time, a fluttering lifted in your stomach. “Thanks, Wally…”

“No problem!”

“I should try to hit the hay,” you paused, rolling your tongue over you lips. “Good night, Wally.”

“Sleep well,” his words sounded like a lullaby. You heard a click on his end as he hung up, and you decided to do the same.

The bed welcomed you for the night. The sheets cradled your body snugly as your eyes got heavy. Your mind didn’t have room for any meandering thoughts as a deep slumber quickly found you.

[cyoc49]

Auto Pilot

James was 18 and already shaping up to be a disappointment in life. After spending four years of high school slacking off, doing drugs, and not caring about anything, he now found himself a freshman in college with little prospect of where to go. He was attending the local community college - he hadn’t even wanted to do that, but his parents threatened to kick him out and cut off funding if he didn’t do some higher education. Now he found himself wandering aimlessly around campus. He had no idea what his major would be, no plans of any kind, really. He wanted to stay as distant from this college experience as possible.

To be honest, James did sometimes think about his lack of aim in life. The truth was he truly did fear committing to anything in life, for the risk of making the wrong choice, and so invented a “don’t care” persona to cope with his lack of place in the world.

James arrived at his dorm, and made his way upstairs to his room. He shared it with some guy, Clide. They didn’t talk much. As he got to the door of his room, he noticed a package sitting in front of the door. He picked it up and inspected it. Relatively small, lightweight, addressed to him. Odd. Usually this type of thing would be sent to the mail room. As James entered his room, he put the package down on his desk. Clide wasn’t there, he was probably at class.

“Might as well check this thing out,” James said to himself as he opened the box. Inside was a big red button reading AUTO PILOT.

Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that. It was one of those comically oversized buttons like you saw in movies. He had never seen one this big in person. And what did “Auto Pilot” mean?

Looking back into the box, James found a small booklet labeled “User’s Manual”. He picked it up and read the contents:

“INCREDIBLE AUTO PILOT BUTTON

Life can be exhausting. School, jobs, bills, food, house troubles, and countless other decisions have to be made and executed every day. At the end of the day, is all the grind really worth it? Wouldn’t you rather take the easy route? The better route?

The Auto Pilot button is simple. Press it, and your life will be set to “auto pilot”. We’ve spent decades studying the behavior patterns of successful people, and have created a formula by which we have the correct response to every obstacle and issue you will ever face in your life. Job troubles? You’ll always be a hard worker who knows how to get what he wants. Social issues? You’ll have the right line for every occasion. You’ll be more outgoing, more ambitious, and best of all: you don’t have to do any of it. When you’re on auto pilot. You can sit back and watch as your body makes all the right decisions for you. One press is all that’s needed.

Enjoy your life on auto pilot!”

James checked the back to see if there was anything else. He didn’t know what to think. He almost wanted to laugh. It had to be a joke, but the tone of the pamphlet was so certain that it could also be the delusions of some eccentric billionaire. Ah well, at least he finally had something to go on his barren desk. He slid the auto pilot button to the back corner of his desk, then paused. He pressed down on the button, just to see what those big red buttons really feel like.

Unfortunately for James, one press is all that’s needed.

*click*

As the button clicked down, James’ body slumped.

His eyes went dead.

And then he suddenly smiled.

And he kept smiling.

James was 22 and life was looking pretty great. After pressing that button his freshman year, James completely turned his life around, as if overnight. He suddenly started paying attention in all his classes. He began going to the gym, and joined an intramural soccer team. By the end of his freshman year, James had gained 25 lbs of muscle, going from a boney 150 to a beefy 175. He also ended his year, with a 4.0 GPA, and used it to apply to the local state school. It just offered him more opportunities than community college, and had better networking circles. James got in handily, and that fall found himself moving across state to university.

Almost as soon as he landed on campus, James continued his life climbing. He declared majors in international business and finance, knowing the money opportunities that lay there. The course load was nothing for James, as he always worked on homework at maximum efficiency. In fact, he had time left over to join a club lacrosse team.

Through his finance classes and lacrosse practices, James came to realize the social circle he needed to join if he wanted to get ahead: The rich preps. They were the ones who exuded the aura of success he wanted to project, and the ones with the connections to jobs after college. He modeled himself after them. He began to dress like them, in khakis and pastels, and leather loafers. Vineyard Vines, Ralph Lauren, and Brooks Brothers invaded his closet. He began to manage his hair, combing it into a neat side part every morning with pomade. He researched golf news, followed stock market trends, so he would have topics to talk about with these preps.

Slowly, by bringing up the points he now new about with classmates, and by projecting the image of a successful young preppy professional, James came to be accepted as one of their own. One of the boys. His ultimate dream. From that point it was easy: James was Mr All American, effortlessly witty and charming. By the time he was a senior, James was on fire. He had served as captain of his lacrosse team for the past 2 years, was top of his business classes. He had met several of his new friend’s fathers (all of them CEOs), and in most cases the fathers ended up liking James more than their own children. James was a professional in all aspects, and he did it all with a bright, mindless smile.

The one thing James hadn’t accomplished in college was finding a girlfriend. Of course he’d had several offers, but he never took a woman to call his own. Every once in a while he found himself staring at the guys on the lacrosse team while they changed, but these were only fleeting feelings. Certainly not the most efficient way to live his life.

But this didn’t matter to James. In just a few months he would be graduating top of his business program, and thanks to the father of a friend he had a job lined up at Plexicorp, one of the biggest marketing chains in the nation. James was only 22 and he was a consummate professional. Is this what a perfect life looks like?

James was 30 and on top of the world. After graduation he went right into work at Plexicorp, and immediately assumed the stereotype of a “young urban professional”. His work ethic was tireless, and through a mixture of countless golf matches and the perfect water cooler humor, James quickly became the most popular guy in his office, and the model employee. He rose in the ranks quickly, and was now a regional manager with a six figure salary at only 30.

With extra cash to spare, James had gone to work giving his life an upgrade. He bought clothes from extremely expensive brands, though sticking to his preppy classics. He got salon quality pomade for the classic styling of his hair (which had only gotten lighter over the years), and routinely had dermatology and dental work done to keep his face looking as fresh as possible. He bought a serene little cookie cutter McMansion out in the suburbs. Even with all this going on, he perfectly worked time into his schedule for gym and nutrition, keeping his body in peak shape even as he got older. At age 30, James was quickly approaching a DILF.

With the perfect job, the perfect clothes, and the perfect body, you’d think James would have quickly found a suitable wife, or at least someone looking for a QoL upgrade. But even over the years, James still never found himself fully committed to women, even though he knew starting a family young would be most productive in the long term. In a particular night of conflicting emotions, James made his way to a leather bar on the outskirts of town, where a nice 50 year old man with a beard and a harness taught James what he had always known. He was gay. And he loved it.

There must have been a hole in the Auto Pilot system. Certainly heterosexuality would be most efficient for a successful life, but somehow James’ base feelings came through. Of course he had no way of knowing what was going on in his body. All he knew was what was most efficient, and what felt best were in opposition to each other right now.

Eventually, with a smile, the straight James won out. After his encounter with the leather clad friend, he quickly found himself not thinking about sex at all. A life of chastity was certainly good enough for him. Letting sex be for pleasure hardly worked out, as we see. Sex should be for utility. Creating the family. And to get a family, he needed a wife.

The following weekend James took a trip to his local country club, and after a bit of scouting, chatting, and brown-nosing, James was introduced to Amber, an interior decorator. She wasn’t the most brilliant with a conversation, but she was single and looking to marry and that was enough for James. They went on several incredibly vanilla movie and dinner dates, where hand holding was the most action either of them got. After 8 months, they married and moved in together.

Now standing here at 30, James looked in the mirror. He felt his decently-sized chest push against the cotton undershirt and mint green button up sitting on top. His rotund and muscular ass was perfectly wrapped by his khakis. He looked down at the counter of his bathroom. Marble. With plenty of space. Even with his tricky sex situation, James had to admit he had a great body and a great life. He had made (almost) all the right decisions, and was reaping plenty of the rewards. As far as living life, this was a pretty good way to do it.

James was 40, and life was perfect. The shareholders of Plexicorp were so impressed by his keen business instincts and impressive management, and at only 32 offered to make him the youngest shareholder in the history of the company. From there he went from “pretty well off” to “disgustingly wealthy”. James knew how to invest his money well, and from the moment of that promotion never worried about money again. He moved into a mansion in the nice part of town and upgraded his wardrobe to suits, suits, and more suits. Now that he was one of the elites, he had to project as such. He kept his appearance as clean and refined as possible at all times. He loved to flash off in a khaki suit (a nod to his preppy roots), and with his now perfectly-blonde hair, he was the absolute image of refinement. He had certainly aged like fine wine, and there was no doubt about it: James was a DILF.

The only sore spot in his life has been Amber. After years of trying and failing to conceive due to lack of excitement, Amber eventually asked to file for divorce. James knew he had to grant her this, and handled the proceedings quietly (and generously) to let go of her gently. At 35, James was finally meeting a dead end that his Auto Pilot skills were unable to find a solution to.

Until he had an investment meeting with a local stock analyst named Robert

Robert was an image of success, beauty, and sharpness that James had seen in only one other man: himself. It was almost unnatural how beautiful and crisp Robert was. His perfectly parted hair. His well-fit gray suit and polished dress shoes. As James eyed this man up and down, it dawned on him. Robert must have made every decision perfectly in life to look like an image of success in his his 30s, because he did. Robert had help from Auto Pilot too. And judging by the lack of a ring on his finger, and the way he was eyeing James in the exact same way James was eyeing him, James had a suspicion that Robert had the same problem he had.

Robert was someone whose every value, choice, and lifestyle matched up with James’.

James knew exactly the right decision to make.

The two flashed each other perfect smiles and firm handshakes, and although the topic of their first meeting stayed on stocks, it was clear there was a mutual spark between the two. They quickly decided that weekly investment meetings would be best, which turned into lunch meetings twice per week, which turned into dinner, which turned into something much more. The two took it slow, to be safe, but it was clear they were disgustingly perfect for each other. On Tuesdays and Thursdays they met up at the gym at 6AM to exercise together. They had quickly learned they wore the same suit size, and exchanged looks on several occasions. Robert taught James just how he achieved his razor sharp part, and James taught Robert how to match pocket squares to outfits. After a few years of dating they married in a picturesque countryside summer wedding, and both knew this one would last.

Now standing here at 40, James could genuinely say life was perfect. He had gone from an aimless place in his life to the top of the world, and although it had been a bumpy road, he was now with the perfect partner living a life of gentility. Checking his suited image in the mirror one last time, James left the bathroom and walked to the front door where Robert was waiting. The two had plans to attend an orchestra show and get dinner at the nicest restaurant in town.

James flashed Robert the perfect smile, and Robert returned the favor.

“Ready to go, darling?” James asked the man of his dreams.

“Of course, love.” Robert replied in a smooth tenor. The two briefly joined to kiss, before heading outside where the driver was waiting to take them into the city for another wonderful night.

[ginnyweasleymybeloved]

evermore x hp / masterlist

hp x readers based on the absolute masterpiece that is evermore by the love of my life taylor swift. i’ll be posting these fics once or twice a week and i will update the links once i’ve posted each one <3 really hope you guys enjoy <3

// these aren’t going to be exact line by line songfics, but based around a particular line or verse //

all fic masterlist

[🌸 = fluff, 🍁= angst]

taglist: @padsfirewhisky

[🌸] willow - fred weasley x reader

“life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

they count me out time and time again

life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

but I come back stronger than a 90's trend”

summary: hogwarts’ most popular playboy has made it very clear that you, his best friend, are not his type. seeing as you were crushing on him hard, you decide to take matters into your own hands

«»

[🍁] champagne problems - ron weasley x reader

“you had a speech, you’re speechless

love slipped beyond your reaches

and i couldn’t give a reason

champagne problems”

summary: on a cold night in november, your boyfriend, ron, gets sentimental thinking about a future that you’re not sure you deserved

«»

[🌸] gold rush - ginny weasley x reader

“and the coastal town

we wandered ‘round had never

seen a love as pure as it”

summary: revelling in the fact that you have the most amazing girlfriend in the world, while unbeknownst to you, she’s thinking exactly the same thing

«»

[🌸🍁] ‘tis the damn season - cedric diggory x reader

“so we could call it even

you could call me babe for the weekend

‘tis the damn season

write this down

i’m stayin’ at my parent’s house

and the road not taken looks real good now

and it always leads to you in my hometown”

summary: you bump into an old flame and old feelings catch up to you as you find yourself rekindling said flame

«»

[🍁] tolerate it - harry potter x reader

“i made you my temple, my mural, my sky

now i’m begging for footnotes in the story of your

life

drawing hearts in the bylines

always taking up too much space or time

you assume i’m fine, but what would you do if i

break free and leave us in ruins?

took this dagger in me and removed it?

gain the weight of you then lose it

believe me, i could do it”

summary: in the chaos of war, harry pushes the one person he didn’t ever want to lose, to the brink of walking away from him

«»

[🍁] no body, no crime - marauders x reader / peter pettigrew x reader / sirius black x reader

“i think he did it but i just can’t prove it

no, no body no crime

but i ain’t letting up ‘till the day i die”

summary: your best friends, lily and james potter, were betrayed by their secret keeper however you’re sure it couldn’t have been sirius.

«»

[🌸] happiness - remus lupin x reader

“there is happiness

past the blood and bruise

past the curses and cries

beyond the terror of the nightfall

haunted by the look in my eyes

that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

and there is happiness”

summary: after the death of his friends and the betrayal of sirius, remus fears that he has lost the capacity for happiness. until you came along

«»

[🌸] dorothea - hermoine granger x reader

“hey dorothea

do you ever stop and think about me?

when we were younger

down in the park

honey, making a lark of the misery

you got shiny friends since you left town

a tiny screen’s the only place i see you now

and i got nothing but well wishes for ya”

summary: you see your childhood best friend for the first time in nearly a decade, you hold the same love and respect for her now as you did then

«»

[🍁] coney island - george weasley x reader

“the question pounds my head

‘what’s a lifetime of achievement?’

if i pushed you to the edge

but you were too polite to leave me

and do you miss the rogue

who coaxed you into paradise and left you there?

will you forgive my soul

when you’re too wise to trust me and too old to

care?”

summary: business is booming and the joke shop is expanding at a rapid rate, by the time it reaches its peak, geoege wants to bask in his success with the woman he loves, only to realise he’d completely neglected you in favour of pursuing his dreams and he doesn’t know if you’ll forgive him for it

«»

[🍁🌸] ivy - harry potter x reader

“how’s one to know?

i’d live and die for moments that we stole

on begged and borrowed time

so tell me to run

or dare to sit and watch what we’ll become”

summary: he thinks he’ll only ruin you, you think he’s worth the risk

«»

[🍁] cowboy like me - sirius black x reader

“you’re a bandit like me

eyes full of stars

hustling for the good life

never thought i’d meet you here

it could be love

we could be the way forward

and i know i’ll pay for it”

summary: sirius runs into you at a pure-blood party he’d been dragged to, the pair of you find solace in each other and gravitate towards one another from then on, however, noting the similarities between you and him, you deduct that you’ll end up paying dearly when you begin to crave more than secret rendezvous at pure-blood occasions.

«»

[🌸] long story short - george weasley x reader

“and he’s passing by

rare as the glimmer as a comment in the sky

and he feels like home

if the shoe fits, walk in it everywhere you go”

summary: george weasley is undoubtedly the love of your life, you realise

«»

[🍁] marjorie - remus lupin x lupin!reader

“the autumn chill that wakes me up

you loved the amber skies so much

long limbs and frozen swims

you’d always go past where our feet could

touch

and i complained the whole way there

the car ride back and up the stairs

i should’ve asked you questions

i should’ve asked you how to be

asked you to write it down for me

should’ve kept every grocery store receipt

‘cause every scrap of you would be taken

from me”

summary: your father dies in the battle of hogwarts and you’re left to go through his things

«»

[🍁] closure - fred weasley x reader

“yes, i got your letter

yes, i’m doing better

it cuts deep to know ya, right to the bone

yes, i got your letter

yes, i’m doing better

i know that it’s over, i don’t need your

closure”

summary: you and fred have a messy breakup and after a few months he owls you to see how you’re doing, and it just so happens that you’re doing fine without him

«»

[🌸] evermore - harry potter x reader

“and i was catching my breath

floors of a cabin creaking under my steps

and i couldn’t be sure

i had a feeling so peculiar

this pain wouldn’t be for

evermore”

summary: a soft moment between you and harry as you heal from the war together

«»

[🍁🌸] right where you left me - sirius black x reader

“did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?

time went on for everybody else, she won’t

know it

she’s still 23 inside her fantasy

how it was supposed to be

did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?

break-ups happen everyday, you don’t have to

lose it

she’s still 23 inside her fantasy

and you’re sitting in front of me”

summary: when sirius is condemned to azkaban you wait, and wait, and wait, right where he left you

«»

[🍁] it’s time to go - george weasley x reader

“that old familiar body ache

the snaps from the same little breaks in your soul

you know when it’s time to go”

summary: transitioning from best friends to lovers isn’t always the best idea, sometimes it’s better to walk away before there’s nothing left to leave

«»

[evelynsfics]

Delusion of calmness.

A town so far away it sat at the edge of the world, eagerly taunting anything that stepped too close. Now, after eons of watching the vortex, we've decided to take it for ourselves. How easy would that be? Destroying what we held dear for so long? Reality is failing, and it is our job as it's protectors to stop the madness thats oh so beautifully spilling out.

As he spoke, his voice sounded wrong, distorted in a way that while easily unnoticeable, made him dizzy with paranoia.

He ran, his feet cold as he walked over gathering puddles in the woods after the terrible storm that passed us not long ago.

Flowers burst into bloom as fast as they wilt, wither, and die. Colorful petals turn to shriveled, thin teardrops in the wind as it carries them away, a treasure it wishes to keep for itself.

The tall, white crosses sitting silently above millions of watchful graves peaked over the rusted fence. Glass shuddered in the wind, a hypnotic chime echoed and shattered the silence dripping to the undisturbed soil below like a fog so ethereal it almost felt real in destruction's wake.

The trees stand together below ashen moonlight, lanky figures with limbs so long the fingertips scrape the soil below as they stagger around and colors of which our eyes cannot see, no less understand, move gracefully as they dance and sway, as they scream and chase.

The figures wear masks, for as long as they have lived outside human houses and between the silent graves, they cannot understand humans. They weep and shout, they hug and kiss, yet they make life so complicated, and so, the creatures struggle and weep when their movements are nowhere near as gentle.

Unlike what they are taught, humans carry so much on them at all times. Why bring a sharp object, as they have realised it is, with you in the woods when you know you cannot hurt, much less kill, a creature like them? What's the point in resisting when you yourself decided to go into the lion's den? Unless it wasn't you who walked aimlessly at night, body bare and feet bruised and muddied.

Empty, vast fields stretch out their hands to the sky, clouds drift and fade as their short existences reach their end. Cotton and corn they grow, the sky limitless above just as it is below.

The cemeteries are their favorite, and when humans pass by to care for their dead, they watch carefully, impatient to mimic them as they always do.

I remember it was a moonless night that day, the day they walked into town. They waved with unkept enthusiasm, like one would do to a friend they haven't seen in a long while. Yes, the creatures can prove themselves dangerous, but only when disturbed during the time when the sun is highest. The townspeople had no reason to flee much less to pick up whatever they could and attack, right?

It's a dilemma carved deep within nature. They pose a threat to us, so we must eliminate them. That is what our parents told us from when we were old enough to understand.

Don't go into the woods alone, don't go to the cemeteries with 3 crosses on the gates, don't call out at night, and whatever you do, don't follow anyone that doesn't have a shadow.

Kids are so easily tricked, you see. That is why we where never allowed at the edge of the town, our grandparents always warned us about the maskmothers, they said the voices come at night.

Maskmothers is what we called the elder creatures, because once they live for long enough, they abandoned human minds, prompting to copy their appearance instead.

Masks upon masks, and faces upon faces. That, is what they wear.

Long limbs, otherworldly colors, calls that echo like a whale's cry, shaking the trees and silencing the wind. It's easy to guess where they came from, yet no one dares to speak their true name, for being so reckless would only attract more.

They never spoke. No, they couldn't speak. Or at least, that's what we thought, what we hoped.

We knew that if they tried to speak, the sounds they'd make would tear our subconscious apart like armor in war. We hoped we'd be able to find a solution to the things they caused before they could speak, yet we never did.

It's been so long since the last disaster, it's only natural for everyone to be paranoid. Any second now, and the next storm might finally tear time itself apart.

The clocks stopped ticking a long time ago. It didn't bother most since we knew it was bound to happen. The teachers at the school taught us to tell time without the help of clocks a long time ago. And as it was carved into our memory, we never bothered to change our flimsy views of how we lived.

Even before i saw them in the forest, moving in complete unison as they avoided stepping on the growing flowers, i knew i could use them.

They always loved when we'd sing to them.

They always loved when i watched them dance.

They always loved when they mixed death and beauty.

Their screams have finally stopped, their contorted bodies no longer stumble after us, after me. Ah, but did we really have to destory everything they built? Those they hurt went out taunting them in a fit of drunken rage, you know.

And even now, as i stand here wearing their masks, i can't help the tingle of guilt i feel. They didn't want to kill us, they meant no harm, yet we hurt them, as if we're the ones in the right.

Ah, but destroying is what humans do best, isn't it? What's the harm in falling in the collective opinion? Anger and satisfaction swirling together makes me feel alive after so long. What's the point in defending creatures that do not belong in this world?

Soon, all we've done for them will be repaid. And when that happens I'll be there to collect what's rightfully mine.

And so, a new age begins.

[deco-devolution]

Sexuality & Gender In Columbia 

Okay, so this is a frankly huge topic to cover, and because there is so little direct reference to any non-heterosexual/cisgender culture in the games, a lot of this will be me sharing/explaining my headcanons/worldbuilding. My ideas will be based on historical record of LGBT+ struggles at the time (1890-1915) and mostly US-centric, as Columbia seems to be fairly westernized. in addition, I will be focusing purely on the lesbian, gay, bisexual and trans communities to cut down on post size and research time. Here we go!

 Note: These all refer to Columbia (Rapture has a separate post) culture in the peak of the city’s life- a snapshot into queer Columbia circa 1910, roughly speaking. As such my talk about the culture is purely as I’d imagine it to be at that specific time only with no details as to the cultural development to that point.

cw for homophobia, transphobia, q slur

Sexuality In Columbia

If you’re not straight it’s over for you

Quips aside, just from playing the game you can tell Columbia is ruled by the most staunch of conservatism. The Edwardian Era in real-world history made heavy emphasis on modesty and a sense of duty but Columbia takes it a step beyond, and this can be seen in most every example of media or dialogue found in-game. Having such traditional Biblical leanings, it can easily argued that this also extends to sexuality.

Right off the bat, I feel like this is Heterosexual (& Cisgender) Land™. Any other sort of attraction, be it gay, bisexual, or anything else, is considered reckless experimentation at best and ungodly and deserving of punishment at worst. Aside from the religiously-motivated belief that only straight relationships are legit, there’s another reason they’re so heavily emphasized- population growth. Columbia, for all its pomp still has a relatively small population on a national scale- just from some educated guesses I’d put it around the borough to town region, as indicated on the settlement hierarchy of ekistics. While the limited space of the city means that the population can’t just continue to grow, a certain rate of births is needed to keep the population level.

Interestingly enough, even though Columbia is a hotspot of religious zealotry, the city still follows the conventions of Edwardian/Early WWI society- very proper, highly formalized in its ideals. Aside the propaganda and fearmongering, personal details are still taboo in polite conversation.

Cruising is done in places where social conventions are significantly different from formal events or even everyday conventions- namely the beach, pubs and lounges. 

In the same vein, hookups, flings, and dates are called vague things like “going out to lunch/drinks”, “going for a stroll” or “having a picnic” and same-gender partners are typically referred to as close friends. It’s all very underhanded, the result of both Edwardian discreetness and closeted language.

Gender In Columbia

Like most of Columbian society, the queer groups in Columbia tend to gather based on gender. Lesbians share space with bisexual women, and gay men stick with bisexual men. As far as trans communities go, however, the cisnormative, rigid interpretation of gender predominant in Columbia means that they tend to be misunderstood among the other queer groups. Typically not in a blatantly hostile way but rather an obnoxiously condescending “poor confused dear” way.

Gender is not so much an identifier as much as an determinator; whatever you are assigned will be the factor driving not only your upbringing but your life choices as well.

There are quite a few social clubs that operate as safe spaces for the community- they typically rotate between the members’ houses and frequently merge or splinter with or from other groups, going from book club, to knitting social to any other politely banal gathering. 

For those looking to dress how they’d like in safety, ‘costume clubs’ are popular among gender non-conforming, trans people and those interested in crossdressing. They present themselves as sort of novelty dance halls with every day being a masquerade. While technically legal, their image is strongly connected to immorality and looseness in Columbia and as such they’re rare and subject to higher levels scrutiny then other halls. 

Because of the rigidity of the culture, the LGBT+ culture in Columbia uses nonverbal queues to state their identities- for example men place certain flowers in buttonholes or alternatively pin them to their lapels to let outsiders know they’re in the community. Women can put these same blossoms in their hats, brooches and hair. These include flowers such as lavender, violets, pansies, carnations and daffodils.

There are HRT gene tonics for sale- they’re marketed under the guise of improving a woman’s femininity or man’s masculinity, they’re sold in pharmacies in the health and beauty aisles without the need for a prescription. This helps some looking to transition do so much easier, though the issue of financial barriers for those who are younger and/or living in poverty still linger. As far as options like SRS go, the procedure is entirely underground, practiced by surgeons of varying repute. While being able to do so successfully is considered a show of skill, most practitioners and citizens are morally opposed to the idea. 

Unlike Rapture, there’s not many fun or quirky terms for LGBT+ citizens. Those with same gender attraction are rudely referred to as “victims of unnatural passions” and those who ID as anything other then cisgender are accused of “falling into delusions of identity”. Among themselves though, WLW call themselves “Lady Lovers of Liberty” (as in the statue based on the Roman goddess Libertas) while MLM call themselves “Sons of Antinous” while trans citizens typically refer to themselves as “Children of Agdistis”. (Note that while Agdistis was portrayed as intersex in Roman mythology, their nonbinary existence and transformative identity made them a relatable icon for most trans people in Columbia)

Questions or comments? Let me know! Thanks for reading.

[liladiurne]

Brighter Than Bright - extract from chapter 15

Here is a short snippet of chapter 15, which is well under way by now. But I am slow, as always, and it’s a very eventful chapter, so it requires a lot of tinkering and thinking. I thought I would share the beginning at least, to make the wait a little while shorter. I hope you’ll enjoy!

EXTRACT FROM CHAPTER 15

Harry wakes with music in his ears and a smile upon his face. At once, such a sudden feeling of elation overtakes him that for an instant he is convinced that it was all a dream, all of it. He must still be in his bed at home, perhaps feverish or caught in some delusion, and has imagined all these wonderful events. The visit to Hampstead, the acquiring of the beautiful coat that he can now wear whenever he desires, the unexpected ball, and the dancing. Most of all, he must have imagined the dancing. It cannot truly have happened. But it did! And Harry knows it to be true because, even before he is fully awake, he realises that his feet are sore under the blankets. His feet are sore! From dancing!

He laughs joyfully, the sound half muffled into the pillow. And when he opens his eyes, he is delighted to realise that he is not at home, of course. Bright sunlight peaks through the drapes, bathing Uncle Gideon’s old bedroom in a golden glow. All around him, the house is entirely silent. Sounds and voices do not carry here the way they do at The Burrow, the walls of Prewett House much thicker and sturdier, but perhaps everyone is still asleep yet. They all went to bed so late, after all. And most of them have had quite a lot more to drink than they should have had. Harry himself has discovered that dancing is even more enjoyable after a fair bit of port. But even the resulting numbing pain around his temples cannot ruin such a perfect morning.

If he closes his eyes, he can still see Cedric’s handsome face. He can still feel Cedric’s hand in his as he was led amongst the dancers. Harry was so nervous at first, his heart beating so loudly that he was certain that everyone could hear it over the music. He did not want them to know that he had never danced before, not like this, that he had only ever stomped stupidly around the parlour with Charlie. That every ball he had attended before he had spent sitting by himself and wishing, wishing to be noticed, and so was terrified to forget the steps that he had barely learned and never used. But Cedric’s gentle smile and familiar presence managed to put him at ease, and Harry grew confident and fearless by his side. And Grandfather had chosen his guests well. There was not a single frowning glare on Harry, neither from the dancers nor from the bystanders.

And he danced with others as well! It seems so perfectly ridiculous to think about, but Harry danced with so many young men that he cannot remember all their names. He would dance with one, who then would introduce a friend, who then would ask for the next dance, and then introduce another friend, and so on and so on. And now Harry’s feet are sore! They are sore! He laughs again into his pillow.

Can life truly be so sweet? So perfect? Harry never wants to leave Hampstead again, and he wonders if Mamma and Papa would let him stay with Grandfather if he were to ask them. At least for a few months. Or for winter! How perfect that would be! And perhaps Charlie would stay as well! He seems to have made peace with Grandfather last night. Harry remembers Grandfather introducing him to a great number of people, and then seeing the two of them laughing together. Yes, perhaps Charlie would like to stay here with Harry for a while. It pains him, the thought of his parents all alone in the empty house in Hogsmeade, but perhaps they would allow it. Hampstead is not London, after all, and he would be safe with Grandfather and Charlie to watch over him. Oh, how wonderful it would be to remain here! He could attend the balls and dance at each one! He would not have to suffer the gossip and glaring of the townsfolk! He would not have to fear stumbling on Cormac in town! And he could see Cedric again!

May I call on you soon? Cedric had asked at the end of the night. And Harry, his head swimming with the joy and the dancing and all the port he had drunk, said yes before Cedric was even finished speaking.

As much as Harry has always loved the Prewett estate and his grandfather, he used to be homesick whenever they came to stay, and he would always look forward to returning home. But suddenly, on this particular morning, this house seems like the most beautiful place in the world to be.

He is wondering what time it could possibly be, and if breakfast has yet to be served or if he has simply missed it, when suddenly there is a great scuffle in the hallway outside and then the bedroom door bursts open. His mother barges in with a maid in tow, the poor girl desperately trying to finish fastening the ribbons on Mrs Weasley’s dress.

“Suitors!” his mother shrieks, all the while attempting to pin up the rest of her hair, but the strands keep falling again. “Suitors in the parlour! Get dressed! Quickly!”

Harry sits up in bed, startled. “What? Do you mean… for me?” he stutters.

“Yes, for you, silly boy!” she cries out desperately. “Get up now! You must meet them at once! Goodness, some have been waiting so long! We cannot let them leave!” She turns abruptly to the young maid. “Go and offer them refreshments! Go now! Quick!”

“Yes, Madam!” the girl squeals before curtsying awkwardly and hurrying out of the room.

“I do hope you packed some decent clothes!” Mrs Weasley continues at once, grasping the blankets and roughly pulling them off Harry’s bed, forcing him out of his warm cocoon of comfort and bliss.

“Poppy packed them for me,” Harry says, but his intervention is thoroughly ignored.

“Why has none of this been put away properly?” she exclaims shrilly, flushed with anger at the sight of his trunk, on the floor, still filled with clothes. “You lazy boy! Is this how I have raised you? You could have asked a maid if you could not be bothered to do it yourself!” she scolds, grabbing the trunk and hoisting it, with surprising strength, onto the end of the bed. “At least they seem properly folded,” she mumbles, rummaging through. “We cannot have you meeting these young men in wrinkled clothes, and there is no time for ironing! Goodness, hurry up, will you?” she snaps when noticing that he has not moved from the bed.

Harry jumps to his feet at once, and he has stripped off his nightclothes before she can threaten him. His hands shake as he takes the shirt that she hands him, all the while mumbling under her breath about which trousers, which waistcoat, which neckcloth is the most suitable for the receiving of suitors. She is clearly as unsettled at this turn of events, and as unprepared for it, as Harry himself is, and he finds some comfort in this.

“The blue one? Or the green one?” she asks him, bewildered, holding up two waistcoats.

“I… I do not know,” Harry stutters.

They pause and look at each other for a moment, both wide eyed and perplexed.

“The green one brings out your eyes,” his mother remarks.

“But the blue one is not as stiff,” Harry replies.

“Oh, suit yourself! The blue one it is!” she declares nervously, throwing the garment at him before resuming her rummaging in search of a good neckcloth, all the while complaining under her breath about the poor selection. “Why did you not pack more?” she hisses.

“Poppy packed them for me,” Harry repeats. “And these are all I have.”

“Goodness, we shall need to get you more. None of these are suitable. None. Absolutely none,” his mother rambles on, her hands shaking as she completely turns around the contents of his trunk.

Harry rushes over, troubled at seeing her in such a distressed state. “It is only a neckcloth, Mamma. Any one will do,” he says soothingly. “This one,” he adds, grabbing a perfectly ordinary one, “this one here will be perfect. I shall wear this one.”

He holds her shaking hand in his for a moment, gently, and then she lets out a small sob and sits down heavily on the bed. “Oh, my little boy,” she gasps, eyes filling with tears. “Suitors for my little boy, at last! Oh, Harry, sweetheart, how long I dreamt of this day…”

Harry can only stand there uncertainly as she continues, sniffling and babbling emotionally.

“Oh, I knew the day would come, of course. How could it not? You are so lovely and handsome. And you danced so beautifully last night…”

“Mamma…” Harry mumbles uncomfortably.

At this moment, Charlie appears in the doorway. He pauses for an instant, then raises an eyebrow at the scene.

“Are you not dressed yet?” he asks Harry in surprise. “There are gentlemen waiting–”

“Yes, we know!” Mamma exclaims before bursting into tears.

[spooks-and-tea]

Entangled (Spencer Reid x femReader) [Ch.9]

Summary: You don’t know how it happened. One moment you were watching Criminal Minds, and the next moment you were literally in the show. Can Spencer be the key to helping you find your way back home?

Warnings: minor character death, mentions of su*cide, bad explanations of quantum mechanics, bad words, sexual situations (some non-con), the usual criminal minds-type content

A/N: Uhh more quantum mechanics that I don’t fully understand.

Word Count: 3,357

Chapter 1.  Chapter 2.  Chapter 3.  Chapter 4. Chapter 5.  Chapter 6.  Chapter 7. Chapter 8.  Chapter 9.  Chapter 10.  Chapter 11.

************************************************************************

Y/N (3 months later) You wanted to see the BAU again; to be in that world again. That's what motivated you to join the show and, somehow, you got the part.

Your character was new on the team, around your age, and Spencer's love interest. Of course.

Reading your character's description had almost put you off of accepting the part all together. Was it wrong to live vicariously through the show? It felt wrong. It felt wrong to pretend that tv-Spencer was your Spencer. Yet, you wanted to be on the sets, working at the BAU. You missed everyone and everything about that life.

Today, you walked onto the lot. You had a scene with Matthew. It was going to take place on the set of Spencer's apartment.

You mentally prepared yourself as you sat still for hair and makeup. This was the first time you would be in any form of Spencer's apartment since the night you were taken away.

You stopped in front of the production studio, screwing your eyes shut and counting to 10.

Your hand moved of it's own accord, over your chest. Would that magnetic feeling ever go away? Would it haunt you for the rest of your life? Would it remind you every day of what you lost, or of what you could've had?

You stepped onto the set and looked around, taking in the familiar setting that was once a place you called home. That big apartment never felt like a home. If you could go back you would've sold that place in a heartbeat to live with Spencer. Although, it was early on in your relationship, you both got along well when you lived together. You both could share the small space and still have enough room to love each other.

"Y/N! How's it going? You ready to film today?" Matthew came up to you with a coffee in his hand and a big smile.

You tried to not let that smile break your heart.

"Hey, I'm great. This is my first time on this set actually, it's cool to see it in real life." You bit your lip to mask the exaggeration in your tone.

"Ah. We won't be here long, we've got a bullpen scene later."

"Yeah."

You looked at your shoes. You knew what scene that was and, from what you read of the script, you weren't going to enjoy filming it.

Matthew studied you for a second, but was called away by the director before he could say anything else. What he was looking for, you couldn't say.

You read over this scene's lines and got into place. The director filled you in on some script changes and how he wanted your reactions to come across to the audience. You nodded in understanding and the cameras were rolled into place.

You cleared your throat and got into character just before the scene started.

************************************************************************

Spencer 3 months had passed by; 3 more months without her.

For 3 straight months, Spencer worked himself sick. People could tell he wasn't eating or sleeping. Garcia made the extra effort to bring him lunch everyday because he refused to leave the office to get it himself. Morgan would invite him out some nights, even volunteering to watch documentaries with him, but Spencer always shot him down.

His mind was constantly on the equation papers. Whenever the team wasn't working on other cases, he was looking over the equation, scribbling notes, rewriting the equation, and reading countless material on quantum mechanics. He felt so close to the answer, like it was just out of his reach.

Then, one day, Spencer received an unexpected call.

"Hello?"

"You'll find him at the warehouse at 4pm." A older woman's voice.

"Who is this?"

"You should hurry, if you want to see her again, that is. Your lives are already entangled. When the time is right, just follow the magnetic pull and it will lead you to her."

"I-" The caller hung up before Spencer could speak. He checked his wristwatch, it was 3pm. If he wanted to get there in time, he would have to leave now and drive fast. He looked around the bullpen for anyone that would let him borrow their car without asking too many questions.

"JJ!" He ran to catch up with her.

"Hey Spence? Why are you so excited?" Her eyebrows rose. She could barely contain her smile at his excitement. She'd been worried about him.

"I got a lead. I need to borrow your car. Please."

She immediately knew what case this lead was for.

"Spencer. How do you know this isn't a trap? You could be running blindly into a dangerous situation."

"I know and I don't care. This could be my last chance to find her. Please JJ, I don't have much time," Spencer pleaded.

She gave him a worried look. "Okay, but I'm driving."

"JJ, you don't have to come with me. If this is a trap I don't want you getting hurt. You have a family."

"You're not alone in this, Spence. We all want Y/N back. I'll call for backup when we get there."

************************************************************************

"4pm." Spencer suddenly said as JJ drove to the warehouse at the outskirts of town.

"It's 3:25. We still have time," JJ assured; side-eyeing him from the driver's seat.

"No. That's the answer! That's the missing piece to the equation!" Spencer's eyes were wide and he was accentuating his words with hand gestures.

"Okay, genius. What are you talking about?"

"The equation we found. I concluded that it was configuring quantum tunneling equations. When quantum particles gather enough energy, they're able to pass through barriers-"

"Like radio waves?" JJ asked.

"Yes! These pieces of equations, the Schrödinger's equation part, in particular, shows that our unsub was studying these high energy quantum particle waves. I understood that much, but valuable information was missing in those burnt pages."

"And what information was that?" JJ did her best to follow along.

"Time, the missing variable, it's time and space! Doctor Who! Dammit I've been so blind this whole time." His false memory was telling him the answers, but he had brushed them aside as delusions. His false memory of watching Doctor Who with Y/N before she woke up in his dimension.

"The Doctor travels through time and space in a loop, a void space. Time isn't linear, as we understand it, in these equations. The walls of her dimension cracked, a particle wave with high enough energy got through, but barely; cracking her end. That's how she got through, or at least that's how someone got her through."

"Okay Spence, watch the language, you're starting to scare me a little." JJ gave him a worried look. He hadn't been eating or sleeping, should she be driving the doctor to a doctor?

************************************************************************

Y/N You were stronger than you realized. The scene in Spencer's apartment had called for your character, Agent Audrey Stryfe, to subtly flirt with him. Being able to separate Matthew from your Spencer outside of your scenes was proving to be a helpful coping mechanism that you kept at the back of your mind during filming.

What wasn't going to help was the scene you were just getting into place for.

"Aaaaand, action!"

"Dr. Reid." You strolled over and sat at the edge of his desk in the bullpen set. He looked up.

"Explain to me again how our unsub was able to pull off all of this in one night." You tunnel visioned, no longer seeing the cameras or edges of the set in the peripherals of your vision.

Matthew twirled his pencil, flicking his eyes down at your skin that peaked out from under your fitted skirt.

"Actually, I don't think our unsub was acting alone. Remember the box of ticket stubs located at the first hideout? Those were momentos; kept in pairs. I believe we're dealing with 2 unsubs, a couple."

"Star-crossed lovers, a new-age Bonnie and Clyde," your character considered.

Matthew nodded and stood up, walking up to the pinboard.

"Based on the geographical locations of the crime scenes and hide outs, we can see that they're making their way west." He ran his fingers along the map's red markings.

"Will they cross state lines?" You walked up next to him.

"There's a high probability they will, yes."

"Can we confidently say that one is the aggressor and one is just tagging along?"

"Yes, in cases with couples like these, typically the male is the aggressor. For example, Bonnie and Clyde. Clyde had a history of committing crimes long before he met Bonnie. She only became a criminal after they became a couple."

"But why would the unsub's partner go along with these killings willingly?" You asked.

Matthew turned to look at you.

"Love. History says Bonnie fell in love with Clyde and that's why she stuck by him as his partner; though he was a terrible criminal. He made multiple failed attempts at robbing banks. Clyde actually wrecked their car at one point, nearly killing her with these 3rd degree burns that nearly lost her a leg. She was also struck by bullets multiple times, but still she stayed by his side. We know he loved her too because a smart, or ruthless, criminal would have left her behind after the leg injury. Clyde carried her around; sometimes she limped. She couldn't properly walk for the rest of her short life."

"Devotion, idolization, justification. These unsubs are recreating the Bonnie and Clyde crimes. I can't agree that it's love that drives them, though."

"Why is that?"

"When you love someone, you want what's best for them. You'd never put them in harms way. If Clyde really loved Bonnie, he would have never taken her along with their gang in the first place," you nearly choked on the familiar words.

Matthew nodded, eyes scanning the map.

"I suppose a more appropriate defining word for their relationship would be 'obsession.'"

"If you were in the male unsub's position, what would you do, Dr. Reid?"

"I'd protect her." He looks at you again. "I'd turn myself in, admit that everything was my doing." Matthew was a great actor, but he couldn't recreate your Spencer's expression when he looked at you.

"Hmm," you hummed.

I'm going to be sick.

"Have you ever been in love, Agent Stryfe? You seem to know a lot on the subject."

"Yes, in fact. I have." You swallowed, eyes going glossy.

"May I ask with whom?" He smiled, slyly.

"I'll tell you if you promise we can take a break from this. We've been working all night. You promised me dinner, Dr. Reid." You poked his chest.

Stay in character; just stay in character and get through this scene. You can cry later.

"I didn't think all this talk of murder would work up much of an appetite," he chuckled.

"We've worked here long enough, catching murderers is normal. " You smiled.

Matthew nodded, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

"We could raid the snacks in the break room, then get right back to work." He suggested.

"Oh no. You're going to properly wine and dine me, Doctor." You stepped forward, placing your hand over his chest.

He went quiet for a heartbeat.

You shrugged. "Fine, then I'll just have to treat myself." You smirked at him and turned to grab your purse from your desk.

Matthew grabbed your wrist, stopping you. You gave a sly look to the edge of the nearest camera.

Matthew spun you around, placing his hands on either side of your face and bringing you into an intense kiss.

You disassociated from yourself, right then, letting him lead you through the kiss. He pulled away, still holding you.

"Dr. Reid. If I had known you kissed like that, I would have asked you out sooner." There it was, your final line.

"So-" He cleared his throat.

"Dinner?" Has asked, holding out his elbow. Your character giddily wrapped her arms around it and swept up her purse.

"Cut! That was great! Take a break, we'll come back in 5." The director called out.

You breathed heavily, practically running out of the studio. You needed fresh air.

As soon as you broke through to the outside lot you felt the tears begin to fall. You gasped for breath, sobbing for someone who didn't exist here. Sobbing for the Spencer Reid who originally wrote that script for you.

5 months you had gone without him. You could no longer remember the exact last words he spoke to you. Your mind hazily pictured his eyes as he watched you begging for him. He was becoming a fading dream.

You wondered if he was still searching for you. Was the whole BAU on your case? He must've known by now what really happened; that he could never get you back. He must have blamed himself.

You cried harder.

If you could just send him one more message. You could properly tell him that you loved him and that it wasn't his fault.

You clenched your aching chest.

"Y/N?" You held your arms around yourself tighter at the sound of his voice. You knew it wasn't your Spencer, you would only hear him in your dreams now.

"Sorry Matthew. I just need a moment alone." You were facing away from him, but your posture and voice gave away your emotions.

"Listen. I know that I remind you of someone important. You have the most difficulty filming scenes with me, more than with Shemar or anyone else. I feel super bad about it. Let me take you out for dinner later. I'll even sing Disney songs in the car at the top of my lungs with you." He stepped in front of you.

You laughed a little through your tears. Matthew was a lovely friend, he didn't deserve to feel guilty about something he couldn't control.

"You don't have to take me anywhere. I'll be fine, really." You sniffled, looking up at him.

"Nope. I think you need junk food. The greasiest food that Southern California has to offer." He smiled, pulling you into a tight hug.

You giggled. He wasn't going to let this go.

"Fine," you grumbled.

************************************************************************

"So let me get this straight. I strongly resemble your ex and that's why you've been acting strange around me?" Matthew spoke through a mouthful of In-N-Out cheeseburger bits.

You nodded, sipping your milkshake. You'd never eaten on the hood of a car before, but Matthew thought it was absurd not to watch the sun set turn the sky pink and orange. It did make the semi-empty parking lot look more ethereal.

"You seem really torn up over him, did things end badly?" Matthew asked.

"Neither one of us wanted it to end. I was taken away from him." You lay your head back down on your elbow, looking up at the sky.

"What do you mean?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Y/N I believe in a lot of things. A lot of things others don't believe in. I know there are things out there that we can't explain and I know you have no reason to lie about something I see effecting you every day. I'll believe you." You did know he was into the paranormal. Would he actually believe you?

"Alright you asked for it." You turned on your side to look at him.

"Remember how I told you that I missed the first Criminal Minds casting call I was lined up for?" He nodded while biting into his greasy food.

"Well I missed it because I woke up in another place, as in, not-of-this-dimension." You paused, bracing yourself to be verbally torn apart.

He blinked, but motioned for you to continue. You were stunned he hadn't immediately laughed at you.

"I woke up in a dimension where the plot and all the characters of Criminal Minds were real. I woke up in the BAU and everyone there knew me."

"This sounds like a dream," he commented.

"I thought it was, so I tried to jump off a cliff into a lake to wake myself up. It's my greatest fear, but it didn't work. Spencer Reid saved me before I drowned. After, I stayed in that dimension for a month." Matthew's eyebrows raised.

You continued to explain everything to him and he stayed quiet, just listening, barely giving reactions.

"Spencer Reid is your ex." He realized just before you got to the part where you had confessed your love to Spencer at the BAU.

"Yes, he is."

"Does he- look like me? Does he act the same way he's written in the show?"

"He looks and sounds just like you, but he has his minor differences with his facial expressions. He's a bit different than how the showrunners write him."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"But how did you get back here? How did you get separated?" He frowned.

"An unsub kidnapped me and brought me back here. I think he has something to do with how I left in the first place."

"So you really were taken from him," he breathed. "I'm so sorry."

"Yes, but I'm coming to terms with it. There's no way I can ever see him again. It was nearly impossible that I ended up in his dimension in the first place."

"Y/N, I've been playing the guy for 15 years. If I know him, which I believe I do pretty well, I know he won't stop trying to find you."

You sighed.

"That's what I'm afraid of; I don't want him to go the rest of his life feeling guilty and searching for something he can't possibly find. I just want him to be happy."

************************************************************************

Spencer

When JJ parked outside the warehouse at 3:53pm. Spencer practically took off running inside.

"Spencer!" JJ called.

He burst through the doors and drew his firearm. He spun around, checking his surroundings. The warehouse had only one large space at this point, with beams to hold up the roof. The integrity of the interior, individual room walls, had given out; leaving only rubble behind.

Spencer's eyes widened as they landed on a platform machine that stood in the middle of the old warehouse. It was connected to a generator, filling the room with a humming noise. A dim, white light emanated from the circle in the middle of the platform. Near it was a table with scattered paperwork, identical to the notes Spencer had found at the abandoned house. A large computer with maybe 100 multi-colored wires connected to a box-shaped machine with blinking red, blue, and green lights. This box connected back to the platform with two large black wires on either side.

Spencer slowly neared the computer, the humming of the machinery matching up perfectly with the wavelength of the magnetic humming in his chest; it pulled him closer.

"Spencer watch out!"

Spencer spun on his heel just as JJ called out. He dropped to the floor just as an older man in a trench coat reached forward to grab him. The momentum caused the man to trip over Spencer, landing hard on the concrete floor in front of him. JJ took this opportunity to lunge at the man, quickly and skillfully handcuffing him.

"Oh you are lucky I came with you! What the hell do you think you're doing Spencer?!" JJ yelled.

Spencer caught his breath, looking at the man. He was the one Y/N saw; he was the unsub.

"That's our unsub He's the one who took Y/N." Spencer spoke quickly.

He checked his watch; 3:57pm. He had 3 minutes. The unsub could wait, Spencer needed to find you.

Spencer sprung up and sprinted to the computer. A white box with a blinking line waited for an input. Spencer tuned out JJ reading the unsub his rights and calling for backup.

His eyes glanced over the scattered papers. He willed his brain to work faster than it ever had before as he calculated the full equation, with time and space included, in his head. He mumbled incoherent variables and squeezed his eyes shut.

The humming grew louder. 3:59pm. His eyes flew open as he typed in the answer; harshly clicking 'enter'. He stumbled to the platform, standing over the glowing white circle just as 4:00pm hit.

The last thing he saw was a blinding white light.

Next Chapter

[nochuuuenthusiast]

neighbor

hello everyone! i’m back with another post :) i’m sorry for not posting anything on jungkook’s birthday :( i was writing this scenario based on his birthday, but i didn’t have the time to finish it so i guess it’ll be in my drafts for the next couple of days... anyways, this was a request that was sent in a couple of weeks ago (?) i think (?) so thank you to @sgrnii for submitting! i hope this is the fluffy content you wanted! and if anyone else wants to send in a request please do so~ 

request from @sgrnii: Hii could you write a scenario like "Jungkook as next door neighbor" and how would he meet the reader? 🥰

plot: neighbor!jungkook is succesful in finding (y/n)’s lost puppy

genre: fluff (of courseee) 

pairing: jungkook x reader (neighbor!jungkook, nonidol!jungkook, collegestudent!jungkook) 

rating: pg-13; warning(s): few curse words

word count: 1213

You were so screwed. 

It’s only been the second day of moving in to your new apartment in your college town and you had already lost your dog. Being a fairly new puppy, it wasn’t surprising that he had wandered off by himself with a mind of his own, venturing into the vast unknown. You were sweating excessively from the immense heat of the summer sun and the fact that you weren’t familiar with the apartment complex was not helping at all. It felt like you were walking up and down the same set of staircases over and over again, in a vicious cycle and frankly, you were starting to lose hope.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Your landlord had specifically told you that pets were not allowed in the complex and that if you were caught raising one, there was a possibility of getting evicted from the apartment. So yes... you were evidently stressed. Sitting down on one of the staircases and heaving as you wiped the new layer of glistening sweat on the top of your forehead, you had enough and closed your eyes. You decided that it might just be better to go back home and start printing some lost dog posters since it had already been an hour since you started looking for your dog. Sighing, you got to your feet and headed back downstairs. 

[10:30pm]

Your head was spinning from all the stress that you were experiencing. You were currently sitting in front of your small printer, praying that you wouldn’t run out of ink while you were printing the last 50 “lost dog” flyers. Despite putting up the other flyers in front of the doors of the apartments in the complex, it had been nearly six hours since your dog ran away. Because you ran out of flyers to put up, you decided to continue printing and putting up more of them until someone was kind enough to call you about your dog. 

Your head was down, resting on your limp forearm... and your eyes were starting to close, sleepy from your lack of energy. You felt yourself dozing in and out of sleep, surrounded by all the full moving boxes that hadn’t been unpacked yet. It was when you were about to fall asleep that you felt the small synchronized vibrations coming from your phone. Your head instantly jerked upwards and your eyes grew wide from the unexpected feeling in your hand.

Please, please, please, please, please.  

You crossed your index and middle fingers as you nervously picked up the phone-- a habit that you picked up ever since you were in elementary school... believing that completing this action would actually bring you luck and good results. You bit your chapped, lower lips as you slowly swiped left, desperately needing to know whether your dog was safe or not.

“Hello??” you spoke softly into the phone. 

“Uhh, hi... I found your puppy in an alleyway of the back of the apartment complex while I was taking out the trash... do you mind if I come over to drop him off?” 

The voice on the receiving end of the phone was unfamiliar yet soothing... shy yet distinct.“AH! Of course! Thank you so much! See you in a bit!” You were thrilled. Not only were you glad that your puppy would safely be in your embrace soon, but you wouldn’t be faced with a death trial by your landlady. Your excitement and relief peaked as you hung up the phone and quickly stepped into the living room to wait for the glorious doorbell to ring, signaling the arrival of your lost puppy.It had only taken three minutes for your doorbell to ring and the instant you heard the repeated bell chimes coming from the main door, you practically jumped to your feet.... your anticipation built to its maximum. And right as you opened your door quickly, you were shocked by the sight. 

A boy, who seemed to be around the same age as you (so you were assuming he was a fellow college student) and looked around 5′10. Maybe it was just the lighting from the all-too-bright LED light instilled on the ceiling hanging before your door or the delusion that seemed to cloud your mind from a day’s worth of stress, but you swore his irises glistened as if there were millions of stars within them. He stood there, gripping your small puppy in his arms... his shirt seemed loose yet accentuated his muscular biceps and small waist perfectly. His hair was parted straight down the middle and looked a bit too fluffy to seem true. You blinked several times, trying to stop yourself from drooling over this stranger in front of your doorstep, but you found it difficult to stop yourself from gazing at him. His eyes wrinkled and the corners of his mouth were upturned as he smiled as he unraveled his arms, trying to hand you your puppy. 

“Hi.. we talked earlier on the phone?” His voice was a little shaky... Ah, so you’re shy... 

“Yeah! Thank you so much, by the way... you don’t even know how worried I was the entire day...” you sighed, relieved as you received your puppy into your embrace. 

“Don’t ever run away from me again...” you pouted as you proceeded in your failed attempt to scold your puppy and make eye contact with it. 

He smiled, endearingly and you shifted your focus back to him.

I just want to know your name. 

“You’re a student at (*insert university name here*), right? Well... I’m just assuming... because you look so young and hands---” 

Shit. 

Your eyes grew wide and your mind went fuzzy, knowing that you just humiliated yourself. 

There goes my chance. 

You smiled awkwardly and played with a few strands of your baby hair as your cheeks flushed bright red. You were trying to cover up the moment with something equally as awkward so that your crisis could be avoided. You were unable to make eye contact with him again and knew that the boy probably never wanted to talk to you again. 

“Hahahaha, well what I meant was... I-- er,, you’re youth is evident, ummm.. haha... I just assumed that you were, uhh...” 

He smiled as your stumbled with your words, trying to recover the damage that had already been done. 

“You think I’m handsome?” he asked, eyes formed into crescents as a result of his faint smile. 

“Umm... well, I--” 

“Well good, because I think you’re pretty.” 

Your eyes widened for the nth time, not expecting that response at all. You looked up at him, your cheeks still tinted with a reddish pinkish hue. 

“Do I get a reward for finding your dog?” he asked calmly. 

“No... sorry... but if there’s anything you want, I could get something for you...” 

“Then it’s set!” His smile grew wider and those beautiful glistening irises seemed to disappear. “I insist a date... Saturday. 7pm. I’ll pick you up from your place.” 

And with that, he was walking away from the door, leaving you even more flustered and shocked than you were when you first met him. You smiled to yourself as you slowly closed the door behind you. 

So... I guess I didn’t fuck it up. 

[dontcallmeeds]

Ya kno, I’ve seen a lot of posts about certain aspects and unexplained Steve things in S4

Like dude how did they get beer?? I mean I think we can MAYBE assume Steve had a fake ID, but I feel like with the way he throws around his charms in S4….I think the man’s seduced out of whoever was working

And he def wanted to seduce the asylum director who’s gender he didn’t know

And just so so much of S4 is bisexual awakening coded because he’s like “I don’t just wanna sleep with people 😓” and sure we can chalk that up to Nancy Wheeler but it felt so forced

I didn’t feel anything during Stancy scenes and it’s not just bc I hate them for each other I felt NO chemistry and we know that’s because Joe nor Natalia were into those scenes so they gave us nothing

We get everything out of Steddie and Ronance scenes like the chemistry is there when they’re having their little “oh we friends now???” side upside down conversations

Then imma use byler to bring it home because of the whole “Finn can’t act bc he should be treating El how he treats Will”

Ahh doiiiii it’s looking at us all in the face

Bonus: Jargyle chemistry vs Jancy chemistry

In conclusion, thanks for coming to my weekly Ted talk where I talk about the same peak delusion I’ve had since May

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 5 [18+]

<-Chapter 4 | Chapter 6 ->

Summary: Things get smutty up in the hayloft.

You are quaking with anticipation to check on your guest after a long day away from him. After Bess turns back down the road and disappears, you head straight toward the hayloft—but your mother is waiting on the front porch, and the twilight is not yet dark enough to conceal you from her watchful eyes.

“You should have asked Ferdinand to stay for dinner,” she suggests. “Go run after him!”

“It was Bess who walked me home,” you correct. “Ferdinand will no longer be courting me.”

Hearing this, your mother exclaims in surprise, making an incredible fuss, until her shrill cries summon your father—a gruff, ever-disappointed grey-haired man. In this case, his sour nature works to your favor. He silences your mother with cruel disinterest in your love life, and insists that you will not join them for dinner, as punishment for falling behind on your chores. You’ll have to pack your meal in a napkin and bring it out to the barn so you may eat as you work.

They can’t figure out why you’re so cheerful.

****

“It’s me,” you call out, climbing up the rickety wooden ladder. The animals cluck, bray, and moo for your attention, but you hear an ominous nothing from the loft. That he had been discovered was your greatest fear, but surely you would have heard some commotion about town if that were the case. Still, you find new reasons to fret—is he passed out in pain? Did he believe himself abandoned and flee? What if the entire encounter was some kind of delusion brought on by head trauma after all?

Peeking over the wooden loft floor, you are relieved to find him dozing, leaning back against the stacked bales of hay, surrounded by barn cats. The felines are curled up next to him, in his lap, and climbing his broad shoulders, competing over his attention. He looks up as he hears you enter.

“I've made friends!” he beams, delicately scritching behind a tabby’s ears as it purrs. “These delightful little creatures make the most wonderful noise!” A tortoiseshell perches on his shoulder, rubbing her head against his withered cheek.

All the tension and worry you had been holding since you first returned home vanishes, and your face erupts into a broad grin. “It’s called purring,” you explain, crawling over to join the very image of an Egyptian pharaoh revived in his tomb. You displace one of the cats from the coveted spot by his side, and he gives an annoyed mew. “I’m relieved to find you well, and in good company. How did you fare?”

“Long was each minute I awaited your sweet return.” He strokes your cheek, eager to touch you again. You melt into the rough palm, closing your eyes. “Your absence pained me, but I was graced by mercy and fell unconscious for most of it. I slept I know not how long. When I awoke, this gentle creature,” he pets the tortoiseshell cat, “sensing my plight, came to tend to me. Soon she introduced a friend, and before long I was surrounded by purring companions. They are not the most conversational company, but they seem unaware of my deformity.”

“They’re usually more cautious around strangers, too,” you add. “Cats always see right to the heart of things. They can sense you are trustworthy.”

“They greatly eased my loneliness. Even without them, this beautiful place is too lovely to accommodate misery such as I have endured before now. Through this window, I can watch the wind ripple through the fields of hay like waves on a lake, I can hear the river, whence we met, rushing through the woods, and admire the white-crowned peaks in the distance. Light streams airily in through the boards, driving away all dark thoughts and fears I may entertain, as if I am among the heavens! And now that you are here with me, I feel as Adam in the Garden:

Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League, Alone as they

“Though my creator I yet do not extoll, so many sensations of pleasure, so many benevolent emotions flood me, I am at last at peace.”

You can only stare at him in admiring stupor. He thinks your crummy barn is Eden—worthy of reciting Milton. The smallest things bring him such joy, you can’t help but be drawn to him and his youthful innocence. And he sees you as Eve. Are you any more worthy of such esteem as the barn? He has no concept that you're poor, or that he should want for anything greater. What will happen when his naivete is replaced by worldly understanding—when a barn is just a barn, and he learns that you are nearly as much an outcast as he is?

Shoving those fears aside, you sling your pack off your shoulder, and remove the bundle of food. The cats sniff the air and jump down to investigate as you spread open the napkin. “I brought some bread and cheese for dinner, along with roast parsnips. Would you care to share it with me?”

“Oh, my beloved angel,” he sighs. “Baked bread! It has been long since I have dined on such rich fare. Are you certain you have enough to spare?”

“Of course!” You rip through the golden, crackling exterior and hand him half.  

His eyes glisten at the sight of food, but he is barely able to take a bite before his countenance crumbles into despair, and he begins to weep. “I have never been treated so lavishly. This is too much. I... I don't know how to ever... repay…”

You put down your food so you can climb into his lap and snake your arms as far around him as they’ll reach. When you’re on top of him like this, you can almost reach his face, and with his head bowed low, you’re able to put your lips close to his ear and whisper, “It's alright.”

He wraps you up possessively in his arms, like a child clinging to a stuffed toy for comfort, curling his chin over your head, completely enveloping you. “Mine…” he murmurs into your hair, so softly you barely hear it. Tears drop onto your shoulders. “Everything is so wonderful, I fear I will awaken to find this was a dream, and I am still alone and miserable. Please, stay mine. I don't want to wake up... I don't want you to go away…”

As he speaks, you can feel the deep vibrations of his voice through his ribcage, and the convulsing of his lungs with each soft sob.

“It's alright,” you repeat soothingly.

He sniffs and clears his throat. “Yes, of course.” He releases his python grip on you, and wipes his eyes with the palm of his hand. “You must tire of me falling apart so readily.” His black lips try in vain to form a smile. “But how can I ever show sufficient gratitude for one of such noble grace as yourself to take pity on so low a beast as I? I have nothing to offer except my sincerest love and adoration.”

You place your hand over his, interlacing your fingers with his long, slender ones. “Your healthy recovery will be thanks enough. And… your love.” Your cheeks flame hotter, and you both quickly look away from each other. One of the cats is nibbling on a wedge of cheese. You shoo them away, thankful for the distraction.

****

After making quick work of dinner, you leave him to recover while you do your chores, bringing all the animals into the barn to be fed, milked, and settled in for the night. A mop of dark hair hangs down from the loft where the creature watches you intently.

You smile up at him, and he scrambles back behind the horizon of the floor, hiding. A moment later he returns to view, blushing sheepishly. He’s not used to being seen when he observes people.

He seems fascinated by the animals and their care, though he lets you go about your work without interruption. Once every hen and cow is nestled away in its proper place, their straw bedding refreshed, and their water buckets filled, you climb back up to the creature. His eyes brighten, but he stops himself before moving toward you. You can read the timid tension all over his face: he wants to scoop you into his arms, but he isn’t sure if he ought to—if it would be welcome. You curl up in his lap, giving a contented grunt of exhaustion, and pull his hands over you, as if to say, “yes, touch me.”

He runs his hands through your hair lovingly, picking out stray bits of straw. Then his hands explore. His rough fingertips brush the warmth of your neck, where your pulse beats against them. They delicately trace your collar bone until hitting the collar of your dress, then follow the edge of fabric down the low neck line. Light goosebumps raise along your flesh, and your breath comes out a shiver. His other hand begins caressing you all over. His hand slides down your back, lower and lower, over the curve of your rump. You gasp as his fingers reach between your legs, pressing the fabric of your dress tight against your cunt, and you jerk in surprise.

He quickly removes the offending hand and stammers an apology.

“It's alright, I just wasn’t expecting it.” You were ready to fall asleep in his lap, but now you are wide awake.

“Am I too bold? My heart burns to touch you, to consume you like a fire... But if it is contrary to your desire or will, then I shall be sated, and put away all prurient thoughts. Please, instruct me how I may behave to best please you."

You bite your lower lip. “I think.... you should unrestrain yourself and do as your heart burns to.” Your heart races with excitement, wondering what his uninhibited passions will incur. “If I want you to stop, I'll give you a signal, OK?"”

He shudders, giving a polite nod as he strains to maintain an air of gentility, before surrendering entirely to baser impulses.

He hungrily slides his hand back between your legs while the other caresses your jaw. A finger slips between your lips. You run your tongue over the callused pad of his fingertip, tasting the salt and hay. A moan escapes his lips and his other hand grows bolder in response, running down the inside of your leg until it reaches the hem of your dress at your ankle, then drawing up again, bringing your skirts up with it.

He spreads your legs apart, and begins playing with your heat through your thin undergarments. His breath grows excited and ragged as he watches you writhe beneath his fingers.

“Is, is this still OK?” He gaps between breaths.

“Shut up,” you moan, pulling his face down and silencing his worries with a hard kiss, whimpering against his lips as your hips thrust against his fingers. He stares with fascination as you react to each touch.

“I want to please you,” he pants, black lips close against your ear. There’s a hungry fire in his voice, raspy and low, “the way you used your mouth on me before. What if I used my mouth to in the same way for you—would that give you pleasure?”

No one had ever offered to do that before, but his fingers felt so good, the thought of what his tongue might feel like in the same place sent waves of hot electricity down your spine. “T-that sounds nice,” you nod.

The moment you finish your reply, he snatches you up into his arms like you weigh nothing. Your undergarments are torn off in a flash, strewn carelessly on the floor. He sits you on top of some hay bales and kneels between your legs, spreading them. He isn’t sure what to do exactly, but he’s enthusiastic to try. He kisses the inside of your thigh, sucking until the skin turns red. His tongue extends. He licks tenderly at your entrance, making your fingers curl around a handfuls of hay. Encouraged by your breathy gasps of approval, he deepens the licks, sliding his long tongue into your opening, stretching you open, filling you. It’s big. Of course it is; he’s huge, and all his parts are proportional—it’s as large as a normal man’s cock, and more flexible, hitting new and sensitive places as it writhes inside you. He grabs your hips, bringing you up and down, impaling you on his tongue, fucking you with it. You are so wet, and not all of it from his saliva. What he’s doing has you dripping.

“You taste incredible,” he murmurs between thrusts, lapping up your juices.

Then he starts teasing and sucking on the tender flesh between your legs. His mouth discovers a bud of flesh above your entrance, and instantly you throw your head back and cry out, your back arching into him, your senses exploding with pleasure you’ve never felt before. “There,” you whimper. “Right there.”

Obediently, he darts his tongue over it, flicking quickly and lightly, until you're begging for more.

“Is this alright?” He pauses to ask.

“Don't stop!” you practically snap.

You cling to the back of his head, pulling him back to your clit, holding him where you want him. Enclosing his mouth around the sensitive spot, he sucks at it, hard, drawing it into his mouth, licking at the same time, and you cry out so loudly you fear someone may hear. You clap a hand over your mouth, keeping the other clenched in his inky hair, biting your palm to quell the screams that want to erupt from your throat. He sucks harder, responding to your body, your hips convulsing into his mouth.

You keep him on your clit, intoxicated by the working of his dark, thin lips and tongue, feeling the heat inside you building toward climax, but the vacancy now throbs to be filled. He slips a finger inside. You release a deep, melting moan, bucking your hips to take more of him. “More,” you beg. He moves the finger in and out, in and out, coming out wetter each time, while his mouth works at your clit. “More. More. More. More!” You realize you’ve been repeating it, begging and whimpering, like a mantra. Both sensations at once overwhelm your senses, driving you precipitously toward the edge until you break, hard, coming into his mouth, digging your nails into the back of his head, clenching and spasming around his soaking wet finger, as ripples of heat flush throughout your body. You don't let go of him until the last spasm is through, and you fall back, body shivering and panting, onto the hay.

****

His body curls protectively around you as you lay together in the barn. He strokes your hair so gently, so lovingly, it’s easy to forget his size, his strength. It’s impossible to imagine him capable of hurting anyone. Hard to imagine why anyone would ever be afraid of him.

You feel so comfortable and safe alone with him. You wish the world were safe. You wish you could introduce him to the world. But the villagers thought you were strange already, and if you showed up with a “monster” at your side...

You find yourself staring at him. How could anyone see a monster? He's not so horrible. Not at all. You reach out and touch his face, running your thumb idly along a scar on his forehead. It's one of the seams where Victor Frankenstein sutured together skin that he stretched over a work of musculature and ligament, which in turn was built on a scaffold of stolen bones. This fact was both easy to forget, lost in your feelings for him, and the most defining aspect of who he is: the source of all his misery.

"You are thinking about how he did it?" He interrupts your thoughts, noticing your faraway look and the way your fingertips linger on the imperfections of his skin.

“I—um…” you blush.

His watery eyes dart away, and his arms, which had been curled around you, curl around himself instead. “W… what were you thinking?”

“Nothing! Nothing bad.”

For some reason that seemed to sting more than reassure him. “Ah. Of course. You behold nothing poor in this wretched form,” he says bitterly.

“You must know that’s true, after what we just did. You must know it doesn’t bother me.” You stroke his arm, avoiding the bandaged shoulder. “It’s a lot to think about, that’s all. Before you showed me those papers, I thought you had been in an accident, or born with a defect… some extraordinary, but natural explanation. It’s fascinating. You really are something special.”

His face scrunches up, alternating between anger and sorrow, as if a war is being fought inside him. Finally he takes in a deep breath, and lets it out slowly, quieting whatever battle he was in. “I used to think… if just one person cared for me, it would change everything. I could be happy. But it still hurts. I continue revolving like Copernicus’s heavenly spheres, with agonizing periodicity. Despite your apparent love for me, your every effort to console me, I fear you. I find it impossible to sustain the belief that you… that you could desire my proximity, tolerate the profanity of my touch… But you reassure me again, and in your closeness my desire for you overpowers me. I become inflamed by passion, insensible of any defect. Who I am is perfect, in those moments. Then it becomes too much, and I remember what a vile, miserable thing I am. I become angry. Suspicious. Vengeful. The most hideous parts of my soul reveal themselves, until I can take no more, and collapse under a sorry so heavy I can never escape from it. And then you reassure me again. When will I cease this miserable orbit round and round?”

You cuddle closer to him, intertwining your legs with and his, sitting halfway up on your elbow to look him in the eyes. “You're new to all this. It’s not unusual for someone in your situation to feel unsteady.”

“How many people in my situation have you met?” He raises an eyebrow with a soft, breathy laugh.

“Ok, fair. I'm just saying, I understand. It takes time to adjust.” You smile. For everything he said about feeling trapped in a cycle, he just managed to stay calm and laugh at you when a minute ago he seemed about to fall apart again.

“Are all humans as wise as you?”

“Well, I read a lot of books,” you laugh. “Trust me, you're not nearly as crazy as Hamlet”

You stay in his arms, quietly talking, nearly napping, until the moon is high, and it has been too long to excuse your absence from the house on chores. You force yourself to rise, willing your limbs to part with him, against their every instinct to remain. His hand stubbornly remains locked with yours.

“Must you go? You cannot sleep beside me again?”

“I must. If I stray from my routine, it will draw suspicion, and if you are found here with me, I don’t know what will happen. I won’t put you in danger.”

Streams of silvery moonlight cast a single square window of light on the black floor and pierce the aged siding of the barn in narrow slashes, giving a haunting funereal air to his cadaverous features and the sorrow in his slumped shoulders. An animal yowls in the distance. He breathes in a deep and ragged breath, that rattles on the way out. “I know.”

He lets your hand slip through his.

“I don’t want to go, either.” You leap into his arms, wrapping your legs around his hips, and kiss him again. “My quarters are right there” You point out the window once he sets you down, indicating the room. “It looks out toward the barn, so you can signal me if you need anything. Let me know right away if you’re hungry, or thirsty, or if your wound feels hot or starts seeping, or if you feel anxious at all, or if—”

He squeezes your shoulders to stop you. “I will be alright. I have lived on my own with far fewer comforts around me.” He plants a soft kiss on your forehead. “My only distress shall be the sharp pining for your presence at my side.”

“Alright. Good night, my dearest daemon.”

Your bed never felt empty before. Tonight, it is unbearable.

[jvlicns]

julian amante , twenty - three , cis male , THE TOWER .

amusing , candid , resourceful , petty , cataclysmic , arrogant.

first of all HELLO !! im z. 25 / she+her / pst. im thrilled to be here and honestly a little shocked ?? my app was a rushed MESS but im so happy the admins understood my nonsense !! 

this is going to be a lil long so pls bear w me. im going to break it down into sections and eventually make an entire bio , but this will do in the mean time !

connections are here , & my discord is zvvf#1885 ! 

* tw for mention of drugs & alcohol

. . .

TAROT ━

the tower represents chaos , destruction , & upheaval. this change is usually sudden & unexpected -- & not always good. the tower itself is a symbol of ambition , but in this card we see it built on faulty premises & false beliefs , all of which are no longer useful.

the ruin of the tower is inevitable -- necessary for growth & groundbreaking renewal. it’s time to break out of the old ways.

AESTHETICS ━

cracked asphalt , bloody knuckles , tangerine sunsets. the smell of freshly cut grass . still , slow mornings. a neat row of fire ants , climbing up your bedroom wall. broken stained glass , an overgrown field. tears of laughter , the only you’ll ever shed. 

money in a yellow envelope , guilt in your eyes , pressed flowers , a string quartet , corruption , loss of morals , student debt , a yellow light , darkness , hellfire.

THOUGHTS ━

" you’ve got your orders & that’s enough. you don’t know who’s telling you to throw your classmates off the scent , but you’re getting paid to do it. maybe your moral compass would stop you if you didn’t struggle so much in the financial department , but hey. you’re doing what you have to do to survive. if only you didn’t have to go against your better judgment for it. "

GENERAL ━

assigned to REYNOLDS house 

fourth year -- senior .

currently working at the corner store as a cashier .

scholarship student -- 2.3 average gpa .

athlete , st. cade’s lacrosse team .

BACKGROUND ━

grew up in a small town in arizona , in one of those unfinished suburbs that ran out of funding halfway through a government project to “ upgrade ” that was met with widespread disapproval. it’s all empty pools & dirt lawns , a patchwork neighborhood of old houses mixed in with the new. 

former golden boy who peaked in high school : star athlete , prom king , voted best smile. eternally toeing the line between CHAMPION  & DIRTBAG.

well - liked , but known for being something of a hell - raiser. out every night , hungover every morning. it was less obvious back then -- he could easily brush it off as simple youthful rebellion , rather than a real personality defect.

his first taste of alcohol was in seventh grade. a summer night , with the sun retiring for the day but leaving her kiss on the still - warm pavement. his world -- previously filled with sunday school , tense family dinners , & 24 hour marathons of professional passive aggression , was forever changed. finally , the boredom slipped away. & not just that ! this was actually FUN. 

but for someone with zero impulse control . . . a door opened , & he never managed to close it.

from a young age , his parents were always involved in the church. they attended every sunday , no excuses. 

this lapsed as the years passed & the amante family found it more & more unpleasant to be in the same room together , but his parent’s beliefs never wavered. religion was used as a weapon in their home -- to shame & guilt. they claimed love , preached tolerance. what they practiced , however , was the opposite. as he grew older , julian managed to weasel his way out of most of their theological outings. he gained some freedom , in addition to the ire of his family. their disappointment in him grew from a tiny acorn to a mighty oak.

his parents had their own issues , long before julian came along. a marriage between two irreconcilable people. the love they should have shared mutated into something twisted , something that they could give only to their son. it was enough for them to feed him , clothe him , & put a roof over his head. anything else was simply asking too much. 

despite coming from a low - income family , things have never been particularly DIFFICULT for him. sure , they struggled. he’s lost count of the times the power got shut off , or the water. but julian was the type of kid who could charm teachers into bumping his grade up to a 71% , despite the dozens of half - finished assignments & failed tests. he didn’t really have to try -- they just wanted to help him. ( pity , perhaps ? he turns a blind eye )

he coasted through school. one of those natural athletes that coaches & admin treat like celebrities , focusing all their attention on a teenager they have high hopes for. higher hopes than he had for himself , in fact. 

julian never had dreams , not a plan for his future. all that stubborn arrogance fooled them : he’s spent the better part of the past seven years stalling. cutting corners & taking shortcuts , desperately avoiding reality.

he never expected to even leave his hometown , let along attend a prestigious college on a full ride lacrosse scholarship. somehow , he played enough games & passed enough classes to qualify for an opportunity that would pluck him from his sad , tragic storyline & deposit him on a shiny path to success. a fresh start. 

he didn’t want to go. fought endlessly about it with his parents , his friends , himself. his place wasn’t at some hoity - toity school , surrounded by do - gooders & the conscientious. julian may have a knack for delusion , for spinning a story that suits him in whatever moment is passing. but he’s smart enough knows what his future holds : drinking himself to an early death in the very house he was born in. you can’t fight fate -- but you can surely postpone it.

in the end , it’s the boredom that convinces him. he’s said & done just about everything he can here , exhausted all the options he cares to consider. made plenty of enemies , as well as friends. built & burnt bridges. 

the expectation of his teachers , his parents , were choking him. it’s foolish to think that this might be the way out – he’ll never change. but why not have some fun , while he’s still here ?

st.cade’s was a treasure trove for julian , filled with endless opportunities to amuse himself. despite his placement in reynold’s house & the mandatory church shit ( a part of his scholarship’s stipulations ) , it hasn’t been bad. another social scene for him to invade , conquests to be had , fights to provoke. the first few years were amazing : an intoxicated blur of his own little slice of this world. 

he lives in the moment , greedily gathering every experience he can. nodding off in class , smoking behind the greenhouse , collecting all the free alcohol he manages to sniff out.

he’s learned this : a loud laugh & bravado can get you far. but now , his actions have finally caught up with him. the school is threatening to terminate his scholarship , to pack up his bags & send him on the first train home. & while he has no idea what to do , he knows he can’t go back. god , no. 

even without what’s keeping him – the enticing mystery of helena’s disappearance , his friends , his freedom. he just can’t stand to go in reverse ; it would mean facing the consequences of every mistake he’s ever made ( & there are quite a few ! ) 

he’s a shark – he has to keep moving. 

that first letter came soon after the school - wide assembly. small , neat type. direct. there was no mincing words , the sender made it perfectly clear : this is his only option. if he wants to maintain this lifestyle , this is the way. so he burns the letters , following their instructions. almost relieved to be given direction. it’s a respite in the current disarray – something he used to enjoy , but now just feels exhausting. he’s the band , humming away as the titanic sinks. not my business , he thinks. but he’ll drown all the same.

PERSONALITY ━

he’s an asshole but a F U N asshole -- that makes it palatable , right ?? 

not a dumbass , but the lack of impulse control + arrogance could have fooled me ! his intelligence is only hinted at , invisible unless you’re looking : reciting keats from memory , listing off all 79 of jupiter’s moons. remnants of past & fleeting obsessions.

 has to actively undermine his own common sense -- for the laughs , of course !

selfish ; his needs & wants come before anyone else’s. a childish habit , yes , but one he’s been unable to break. ( not that he’s tried )

vacillates between aloof & dramatic. you can count on him to stir some shit up -- he adores chaos & just can’t keep his mouth shut. petty , to a fault.

he’s hot - shit & he knows it ; well aware of his pretty face & statuesque build. julian’s never been afraid of using it to his advantage , or even just reminding anyone around him of just how cute he is. ( listen up 5′s , a 10 is speaking ! )

 has a strong aversion to authority. “ don’t tell me what to do ! ” . . . * quietly takes your advice when you’re not looking * . . .

the good parts of him are buried deep. his loyalty , his gentleness. a warm heart that can easily empathize , but chooses not to. julians pursuit of superficial gratification blinds him , warping his reflection like a funhouse mirror.

aggressive & unrelenting. this could be channeled into something of a work ethic , if he cared enough. instead , he uses it to get what he wants. whatever that might be.

curious as a cat with nine lives , he won’t hesitate to ask the question everyone’s thinking. that bluntness is almost appealing , as long as it’s not directed at you. this makes him somewhat of a good listener , even if he’s only paying attention to satisfy his own nosiness. 

he’ll literally fight for the ones he loves. there aren’t many of them , but the sentiment stands. years of sports have taught him the value of teamwork , & he has yet to shake it. once you endear yourself to him , there’s no going back.

despite everything , julian manages to be a charismatic little firebrand. he’ll guarantee a good time , he just won’t help clean up the mess.

FUN FACTS ━

can fit his entire fist in his mouth

has The Loudest Sneeze Of All Time

once bit into an apple n saw a WORM inside so now he hates apples w a passion

right handed , but taught himself to be ambidextrous during the summer between fifth & sixth grade

promptly forgot he was ambidextrous & never uses his left hand

has surprisingly neat handwriting

can fall asleep ANYWHERE

likes country music ( will never admit it , tho )

his mother used to read him poetry , so he’s lowkey Very Into It

can’t carry a tune for shit , & his impressions are a w f u l. his british accent is just a cheap dick van dyke imitation , & his australian accent is what the british one SHOULD be

[tessatechaitea]

Cerebus #17 (1980)

Oh! This is the issue where we learn that the toughest motherfuckers in Estarcion are priests!

What is the statute of limitations for stealing from nuns because have I got a story for my memoir! That's as close to an anecdote as I have for a comic book cover with a priest on it. At least I think that's a Tarimite priest and I think that was an anecdote (albeit a mysterious one!). It's been awhile since I've read Cerebus and I've certainly never seen most of these covers. You know how you can tell most Christians have never read The Bible? Because they're still Christian. I swear to fucking Christ it's the most ridiculous motherfucking thing I've ever read and I've read the later Xanth novels! I don't detect any hint of animosity or marital regret in Deni's "A Note from the Publisher." That just means I didn't find anything worth discussing since I'm inherently a 7th grade gossip. Dave Sim's Swords of Cerebus essay discusses sitcom television and how important it is to keeping everybody's minds diluted to the point of inefficacy. His major point is that it's easy to watch a four hour block of sitcoms without your brain coming up with one thought of its own. Obviously that's the lure of television. But what's not so obvious to most people is that it's not the show or the writing or the sitcom that's keeping you from having your own thoughts about them (although, granted, some aren't worth any thoughts at all). It's the block of time spent sitting and watching them one after the other. If a show offers an intelligent story line commenting on the troubles of our daily lives, the viewer has not time to process what they have just seen. They simply move on to the next show dumped into their viewing trough while whatever they just watched is dumped out the back of the brain to make room for the next character slipping on a banana peel causing Mr. Roper to smile mischievously at the camera because obviously that's what a gay person would do. This way of watching television mindlessly was probably more pertinent to the last century; now we are in full control of everything we watch and have ample time to pause a show or movie and discuss important and relevant bits rather then letting them simply disappear in the flicker of afterimages. Although, we sort of live in a binge culture now and watch entire shows in one sitting so we can move on to the next one. I miss the amount of discussion to be had during the week while waiting for the next episode of Wiseguy or Twin Peaks or Three's Company. Okay, maybe not that last one. What was there to discuss about that show other than why the fuck a landlord had any say in the roommate two women choose to share their apartment with?! If you read Dave Sim's essay, right now you'd be wondering, "How the fuck did that essay cause you to write those thoughts?!" Look, a digression isn't a digression because it's pertinent to the current narrative! Lay off me!

Oh, I guess this one isn't the one with the bad-ass priest (is that even one? Who can tell anymore? My brain is Swiss porridge); it's the one with the terrible German accents.

Cerebus left Palnu with a horse and eight bags of gold. When this issue begins, it's three weeks later and he's down to just the eight bags of gold. The horse had a minor accident which left Cerebus dragging bags of gold across a landscape turned muddy from torrential rains. To get out of the rain so that this issue doesn't devolve into multiple "Gee, what stinks?!" jokes, Cerebus purchases a hovel from some peasants for four pieces of gold. That's where he's relaxing when the big dumb German guys come knocking on his door. Cerebus learns that the Germans (or T'gitans or something. I feel like they're not really ever mentioned again. Not like the Hsifans or the Pavrovians) are about to invade Palnu which piques Cerebus' interest because Lord Julius was a huge pain in the ass and it would probably be funny to see his fall from power. Or maybe Cerebus just has ADHD. The guy on the cover I thought was a priest is some guy named Commander Krull. He's grim and large and dour and he's the kind of guy I thought of as a grown man when I was a kid. I will soon be 49 and I learned years ago that I'll never think of myself as the way I used to picture grown men. That's not a bad thing! I'm just commenting on the delusions that grow within the minds of children. When I was a child, I'm sure I subconsciously categorized every grown man in my life as "Man" or "adult male." I believe there was always a bit of fear that came along with the adults whom I though of as Men. It's probably why I loved old men so much because they were somehow broken through the other side of "Man" and were back to being child-like. If you're confused by my definitions of what I thought a Man was, I'd say it would have been people like Mr. Cunningham or James Evan Sr. or Pa Ingalls or Grizzly Adams or Sgt. Carter from Gomer Pyle or Mr. Banks from Mary Poppins. Men who didn't register as "Men" were Bert from Mary Poppins (hell, just about any character Dick Van Dyke played. He was too playful to be a Man), Jack Tripper, Gene Wilder as anybody, Roddy McDowall as anybody, Lenny & Squiggy. Maybe I was just intimidated by men with broad shoulders? It's sort of sad that one of the main qualities that made a male figure in my life "manly" was if they intimidated me. And yes, for those of you who actually think about shit I just wrote that you just read, Mr. C scared the bejesus out of me.

This is the face of a man who grew up thinking, "I have to be masculine or I am nothing!"

Just to be clear: I don't give a fucking toss about masculinity. All that nonsense about what makes a man a real man is simply philosophical wanking of the most boring kind. But that doesn't mean you aren't inordinately influenced by that shit while growing up, especially when your father left at two and all of your adult male role models were on television. I may have been intimidated by Mr. C and James Evans Sr and Pa Ingalls but thank fucking Christ for them because I knew at least three adult males cared about me for a small amount of time each week! Cerebus realizes Krull, disguised as a priest, has snuck out of the town for reinforcements. Cerebus' big plan is to not let that happen! My instincts are to call him a genius even though the plan seems pretty obvious. That's probably because Cerebus is a fictional character and I can lavish praise on him without feeling jealous and petty and upset that nobody is calling me a genius. I mean, why aren't they? Have I not criticized enough comic books to be regarded as a genius? Am I misunderstanding the definition of the word?!

Cerebus uses the priest disguise against Krull. Genius!

Like when he defeated the leader of the Eye of the Pyramid in Palnu, Cerebus uses trickery instead of force to defeat Krull. I mean, both are knocked out by a rock to the head which I suppose is force but Cerebus uses tricks to get the opportunity to smash rocks into their heads. Having defeated Krull, Cerebus and the T'gitans conquer Fluroc, putting pressure on Lord Julius to raise an army quickly (since his current army is on the Onliu border which is, I suppose, super far away and stuff). I guess next issue Lord Julius and Cerebus go to war! I can't believe I don't remember this story! I mean, I remember the Krull encounter but I'd forgotten it had anything to do with Cerebus waging war against Palnu. Another excerpt of Michael Loubert's "The Aardvarkian Age" appears this issue. It's as dry as reading an Associated Press rendition of a historical event. I'm not sure why I thought these things would be entertaining when I got to them. Cerebus is funny; why isn't the history of the world of Estarcion?! Aardvark Comment isn't interesting yet. It's still people praising this little rinky-dink comic book operation for surviving over a year. I can't wait until Dave starts pissing off fans and then arguing with them! Cerebus #17 Rating: B. This story seemed incomplete. Probably because it's just the first part! But also it seemed anti-climactic or a hodge-podge of semi-related scenes. It was like a sketch show! It had some pretty solid jokes but overall I just kind of felt like I'd have been better off spending the time eating a box of Oreos.

[screechingtrashcalzonewombat]

"Apopalictic Astral Asending" Reavaluate disassociate my self worth...

The galaxies have birthed an uncontrollable being ....

I've feel as tho Ive seen myself split in two ..

Witch side do u wanna see if ur lucky I'll let you choose .

Cause in the end I loose..

One of hate one of love could both be from up above..

Or down below ...

I've began to show signs of delusions as half my mind goes an tells me it's only mild confusion. As my body fights my brain an heart to escape theys terrible illusions.

Yet the other half tries to start a fusion of body an mind an all the suddently my thoughts are no longer mine..

But a evil so Divine that its wound it's way threw time itself I've fealt the damage the energy dealt. I've yelped in anquish an pain been stuck for 7 long years in the rain with nothing to gain .. I can barely fathom to explain im not fully on earth I'm on another astral plane but i fear i flew out of my lane I've gone insane never wanted fame Ever fealt like bat man I mean oops Bruce Wayne. Nah fuck hes spoiled a wet rat infact I'm more like hulk duck when I'm near i wearly see I'm drowning inside my mind but no one can hear my dear I fear I've lost control again but cant compute I've been booted out of the system I've clawed hit an kicked to try to get to the top but i outta of known I've been ripped an thrown from my throne ive been shown what this beast can do but who woulda thought a demon bought my soul ..a jackal a goul.....you'll see me shift into numbness I suposse it was my own dumbness for being to open now cause of me my body an mind are broken an stole. as I weep an shutter an i try to speak but only stutter I found myself weak in defeat ....as ik this demon reaching its peak will plunder an pillage the town I've found I'm bound to this beast nowhere to run not north south or east I can run it will feast on my soul until the end of time ..

For diamonds cannot compare to the rarity of a soul nor a bowl of Ruby's an jems rolled in gold .....

A bold statement you say........

.. theres no ray of light here they stole it away buried it in your mind but how can u define being locked trapped in yourself ...

You've dealt your own fate ...

Wanting ansers u dint deserve ..

Did you like your just dessert's...no?

Dose it hurt ..... After you itll kill children's childhood freinds like bernie & eart ....whent bizzirk an bashed there brains makeing bloody rains

curking on everyone with cutlery forks an knifes* slice *cook big bird with chives after I've shanked him 900 times... 100 more woulda been devine serve him drink to dry alone cooked an ripped him to the bone but not quite alone u may not be home inside but u can still watch...I thought I taught u better than to close ur eyes dont beg or look surprised look away an I'll adopt another stray to do the same a slow sweet death cure's my hunger anyway

.the wines innocents blood bitter sweet to the taste of the tounge

no one thought it capable I seemed...looked ...so young..

They dint know it had just begun it wasn't me but the evil half committing crime with glee an fleeing repetavidly revealingly images to my mind of times & crimes so sickening I thought I'd die forever scetched seered into my mind .binded with no power as one towers over you using your power you cowar for how dose one define the disasbalment of there an every defined mind while ur inner demon dines on flesh making a mess of your vessel you cant even wrestle your way to the light to stay only break down in defeat that your so far away you've became an internal mess cant even stand on ur feet the beast has u chained in defeat u cry an apologize looking for answers as of how to stop.....an then...you hear a voice .." you outta stayed silent instead of talk back. U shouldn't of complained do u still think ur life used to be pain...... . Ur a sack of shit ur wit is less than that of an ant not to rant but I'm not done yet I have ur soul now I'm never letting go no no no I have plenty more so much to show many souls to reap an emotions to subdue after all u said yes.....

...did you forget ur the one who started this.

mess ......you dressed your mind with fantasy an fiction word to the wise never mess with other worldly friction an your itching for a way out but I doubt ull get there before the end of time .after all you had a devil an an angel on ur shoulder an you chose wrong this time. Only took 666 times but I'm patient an always waiting for 6 years hating an burning flesh waiting for a prayer a call after all Lucifer was once an angel an the most beautiful you just dint get to see from what angle he had beauty wrath an determination but u humans resulted in his isolation incarsorason. So now we will end up being humanity's enialation when were done there entire selves with evaporate for the demons have released self hate to pro create creatures in confidence we annihilate the fate of the human race at least the trace slight like us able to bust threw dementions so weve mentioned a start to find the inordinary soul an heart ......humanity was doomed from the start.. you stole our purpose our reason to be......humans sit in sin an glee.

Your humanitys Pride is overbearing never genuinely caring ..

Greed is sweeping the nation its reached ever state an it's got a hot heaping plate of corruption for mankind's consumption greed is grotesque in its steps of the darkest quest to corupt ur mind an want. .want..want until that's all you are is wanting more

Lusting over losely draped garments you've tarnished ur soul .

Envy of what you do not posses but for all you know that information an life would make you a mess but ud still test ur envious tendencies.....

Glutton glutton what have you gained it's not knowledge no for it's to plain rather glutton uve found a urge that wont go away....

Wrath an vengeance blood draw too no one stops till some dies him or you....

Sloth last but not least cant forget you cause uuuh wait what that fuck do u do....you sleep an sulk sit slither out of simple tasks an that's why ur not 1st no ur last like humanity just ask ....

So soon the day will draw near the the number 4 is what you should fear our dear old freinds were sending up for a visit so they can reddit ur fate for each a horse an a trait the first out the door with bow in hand riding a white horse with bow in hand

..

Conquest the start of the final test leading the restthere dark version of light on a white stallion he leads the way an soon will follow hades anyway.

War was next on a red steed he rode prepared to purge an quench new blood for the wars an battels would just begin brother against brother an close of kin witch to win?

Famine foe of all on a black horse with the courses hair so fair merely bone but dont let his appearance fool you hes for he is full devouring your greed taking away everything you want or need an now ur rationed to nearly starvation stretching farther than destination world wide sensation...

Pleage reaper of souls slowly apears steadly trotting riding a very sickly steed looking pale an almost gruesome green with sores an sickness best keep a distance. For he shall be the bringer of death an reap you all one by one to the four you shall fall...

Will you be spared are you true....

Are you happy with your life what did you do...?

Rapture no you still must die.....

Say good by to this earthy chapter theres so much more that manifest after.

But only your earthly husk must rust an fall your all energy of grate mass....

It's time to take the task of self evolvment an enjoy an enlightened installment

this world was just step wrench ur third eye wide open an accept the token of eternal life.

Grinded it to atoms a flash of dust all together ur a self fulfilling must memory pass u in a rush.....

. sudently ur bodysuit is gone ....

But it dint felt like it quite belonged.

You were 7 grams of light matter to be exact an sudently you've cracked the atmosphere ..steering energetic waves my metal psyche caves to the new information flying threw stars consolations.

Suddently speeding at the sound of light the stratosphere seems to disapear ..

My fear is gonewithout a trace an freedom transferred in its place

but am waved in infatuation to find out about out true destination...

Restoration of the soul the goal of a higher self being achieved as I crash into the sun 1500°

I feel a warmth like no other each being hues of light I might of missed earth if not I heard a voice but a mental push no need for speech just thinking it shall be done said by the the brightest in the sun.

Rejoice at last but ur journeys yet to pass ..

This is merely were you start ....

Our flames grew high with frantic waves not wanting to give up the new life we were just gave

Suddenly our flames grew dim as we felt a swirling deep from withn sudently the surface of the sun turned to tin an bent in a cracked an caved with itself our time an space sending us ascending in alignment the same assignment.

Because the sun has begun to change ina twisted way a black hole some could say.

As all of our astral beings were ripped an tore apart at the seams we all merged an formed one all knowing creative being an sudently everything I've know has little matter I'm past a point of human chatter i understand infinity the holy trinity I down in the milky way an experienced every life I've relived it twice I've spliced my genetics into over 2000 million beings I've seen good an bad in between experienced every tragedy to build my strength an studyd every thesis an theory thread an chain nearly drove my vessel insane even took knifes threw my veins in anger yet it failed I was just a trailer.ive seen love hate an anger

Comprehension compasing many others I have love an understanding past many beings there anger seems to brush by me cause I'm with 2000 souls an minds that have formed one to reach a state I can medidate in the milky way an force your negative away .

Our astral self has accumulated complete power an understanding by costuming to our full potential our old body's merely a rental.

Gentle at first then bursted into power showered in knowledge I know now much that I wondered before but now I want more an I've thought till I an 2000 shared beings head hurt cause my girth of knowledge will now never be enough it's tough cause now I must find .... how to ascend again but for now i must defend my vast mind defind crime ...?

Keeping 2000 vast voices locked away so I can focus an try to learn anyway leaning in to vast places is I the 1st 2nd or 3rd or other many plains I cant quiet place I'm traveling threw them all searching for everything I couldn't before .

This life isent like the countless other this life I like it has interesting teathers

I've surpass Angel's an there feathers an vison of a hawk.

I've surpass demonds and there demonic temping talk ..

I've walked on water as I was ripped apart an I felt my self rebuilt every cell of my being got hit with rods of power lightning not even myself can fight me god like abilities the universe as built in me theres ben a spiritual shift a tilt in me somthing generations of DNA sprawled out in a numerical display my old life experiences is the price I pay so that I can be god even if only for a day

I think I'll sit an think somewere in the outter spink of the universe I've cursed myself with knowledge an now I'm aware step into my astral space....

If you dare...

[digikate813]

My Little Pony Re-Watch: Episode 30 Luna Eclipsed

*Here’s a fun fact. This was the first episode of Friendship is Magic I ever saw. I kept seeing Luna around in AMVs (those ones that use cartoon characters from all different shows) and since she looked cool and it seemed like she was an anti hero of some kind, I wanted to find the episode she was featured in out of pure curiosity, and that was this one! Which was luckily on since it was close to Halloween at the time.

*This may technically be the Halloween episode, but it centers around the Equestrian holiday, Nightmare Night. And what i really appreciate about the creation of a new holiday for this world is that it’s not just Halloween with a new name. It has a lot of the same traditions of course, but there’s Equestrian history behind them. All centered around the used to be legend of Nightmare Moon.

*Adding more to the fact that Nightmare Moon’s reign seemed ot be more legend then historical fact until recently, but the twists they take on the traditions we know nad love are pretty creative. Wearing costumes so Nightmare Moon can’t find them. Gathering candy as a sort of peace offering to a statue of Nightmare Moon in the forest that we have never seen before and, will never see again, but at least it looks cool, so she won’t eat the children. Some of it might be kind of messed up, but Halloween is all about scarring kids for life. It’s part of the fun! The whole history of Nightmare Night is just more creativity unique to this world that I appreciate.

*This is also the first mention of the ancient scapegoat of the lore sorcerer, Star Swirl the Bearded. Love him or hate him, this is a historic moment in the show’s world building.

*Also Twilight goes out dressed in a handmade costume of someone she thinks is really cool but no one else know’s what she is. That was pretty much every Halloween for me. I relate. 

*A really fun part of Halloween episodes is seeing what costumes they choose for each character. And with a celebration the whole town is involved in, there are some very creative costume designs and choices here. I’m not gonna go through all of them but I did want to point out Rainbow Dash dressed as one of the Shadowbolts from the first episode. A perfect choice to be sure, but there’s also the great detail of seeing it poorly stitched together. Emphasizing that it’s clearly a homemade costume since the Shadowbolts technically don’t exist. It’s small, but it’s details like that that make the world feel more real to me.

*And i swear there is somepony in the background dressed as Daring Do. It could just be a regular safari outfit, but I prefer to think of it as foreshadowing. Let me have my delusions.

*This episode also introduces Pipsqueak. A little colt from Trottingham (oh these names) Not much to say about him but he’s adorable and fairly popular, so his first appearance was at least worth a mention. But is it just me or does his voice keep changing. Sometimes he has the accent, sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he sounds like a kid, sometimes he sounds like an adult playing a kid. Did anyone else notice that?

*I’m also pleased to see Zecora play such an active role in the Nightmare Night celebration. Makes me a bit surprised she doesn’t get a moment with the festival’s surprise guest.

*Time for the star of the show! And after what I’m sure was anxious anticipation, Luna finally makes another appearance with a memorable entrance. A carriage pulled by the first bat ponies we’ve seen, and sporting a new design. I can’t remember the thought process behind the change, but I think it looks way cooler.

*Luna may have instantly been turned back to good thanks to the Elements of Harmony, but she’s still having trouble adjusting back into society. Which makes sense given that she’s been gone for 1,000 years, and might explain why we haven’t seen her since she was reformed. Even though the official reason is that Hasbro thought since she used to be a villain, she’d be “too scary” for younger viewers. And then she went on to become the most popular character at the time. Good work Hasbro. 

*This is something I really love about Friendship is Magic. When they bring back former villains for future appearances, they take the time to integrate them back into society. And that it takes work. The townspeople are still scared of Luna, and the trouble she has communicating with them is only making things more difficult. Luna’s struggle is summed up kind of perfectly in a line she has after a couple of failed attempts to fit in. “they have never liked us. And they never shall” This line is generally overlooked, but it says so much to me about Luna’s mindset. The whole reason she became Nightmare Moon was because she felt underappreciated and unloved by her people. And in doing so, she only made her relationship with her subjects more difficult. Even when she’s making a genuine effort to win them over.

*This is honestly one of Twilight’s best endeavors. It shows how far she comes and might even one of the first signs of the potential she has to fill her future role. She approaches Luna when the others reject her, and does everything she can to help her fit in.It’s the kind of thing the show would represent many times over in the future. That you should give others a chance when they want to make a genuine effort to be better.

*Luna’s lesson with Fluttershy to help her speak better will never cease ot make me laugh. The timing is perfect and it’s adorable and I love it.

*The fun has been doubled! Still one of Luna’s most iconic lines, and to be fair, unlike some other liens from the show that became meme worthy, this one is really applicable to any situation. I’ve used it.

*Personally there’s a lot of great lines in this one for me. I love the dialogue in this episode.

*Let’s take a second to address Pinkie’s actions. Running away form Nightmare Moon saying she’s going to eat everypony like the legends say. Yes this is one of those Pinkie appearances where her over the top antics only make things worse, but we later see that that was just Pinkie’s way of having fun on Nightmare Night. Because sometimes it’s fun to be scared (like i said before. remember?). Now in the wrong hands, that could have come off as an excuse, but since it leads to the ultimate resolution, I think it’s okay. And i think if she had known it was hurting Luna’s feelings, she would have stopped. Maybe i should be harsher about this, but Pinkie has had far worse appearances in the show.

*So Luna can apparently change back into her form as Nightmare Moon? Interesting....

*This is another great message, and like i said, one the show reinforces as it goes on. That things and situations my seem foreign and scary. But when you take the time to look deeper and offer them a chance at friendship, you can see a whole new side to them. Luna was trying to move on from her past as Nightmare Moon and try to be like everypony else. But it was only when she embraced her title as the Princess of the Night, that she found out why this holiday is so special, an it wouldn’t exist without her. And once the kids accepted her, the townsfolk joined and were pleased to have her be part of the festivities. Luna finally found out how to be loved by her subjects. To fit in while at the same time being herself. And I’m sure that extra layer of sympathy only made Luna more popular to the fans.

This episode is obviously special to me since it was the first one i gave a chance. And while this kind of intricate analysis was not my first thought when I watched it, I thought it was cute and had something going for it. While it would be a couple of weeks after this until I became a full on fan, this certainly peaked my curiosity, and something about it kept me watching. And i am quite grateful for that! Next Time: Sisterhoove Social!