#scream it: ONLY TWO AND HALF MORE MONTHS FOLKS

[ellerywithablog]

me reminding myself that i am an adult capable of doing hard things like going to work tomorrow after two weeks off for spring break

[chillinglyadventurous]

Sneaking Around - Stanford Pines

Tags: NSFW! Age-gap relationship, sneaking around with Ford Pines so his brother, your boss, doesn’t find out.

Be gentle. This is my first NSFW post. I don’t know what I’m doing. I wrote this last night when I was half a sleep. Please ignore typos.

Minors DNI

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4

You’d been sneaking around like this for months. What started out as chaste kisses around corners where Stan and the kids couldn’t see turned into Ford sneaking into your bedroom late at night only to sneak out early in the morning. You and Ford both knew Stan would kill him if he ever found out.

Stan had taken on a fatherly role in your life when you started working at the Shack 10 years ago when you were 17. Now, you and his brother were sneaking around like teenagers. It almost reminded you of your high school boyfriend, the one you would ditch work to make out with in the back of his truck.

Now, your back was pressed up against the back of the vending machine door which led down into Ford’s lab. Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist as he thrust into you. You quieted the little gasps and whimpers escaping your body with the back of your hand held securely between your teeth.

“Shh,” you giggled as Ford let out a guttural groan when your muscles tightened around his length after he had hit just the right spot. “Shh,” you repeated when his hips hitched a bit too hard against your own, the lewd slapping of skin against skin echoing around you.

He fucked into you a bit harder, testing to see how well you could keep yourself quiet. One hand slipping between your bodies. You were already so close and he knew it. He’d had you with his mouth in the basement. He had you with his fingers on the stairs.

A whine escaped you when he slipped two fingers around the base of his cock just to stretch you that much more. Your head fell back into the vending machine with a loud thud your hazy mind couldn’t comprehend. Your walls fluttering in time with your heart.

“That’s it,” Ford encouraged as his fingers and cock held steadfast, thumb circling your clit in a relentless pattern. Clockwise, counterclockwise, and back in rapid succession, “Come on, [Y/N], be a good girl and cum for me.” He chuckled when you bit down on his sweater clad shoulder to stifle the sweet moan he was doing his best to draw out of you, angling himself to keep hitting that spot that made you tremble.

You whined, “Stanford, please!”

He repeated the shush you have given him as he watched your jaw go slack, eyes and forehead crinkled together. Your mouth fell open as he continued he thrusts rhythmically.

Suddenly, you heard Stan’s voice as he guided a group of tourists into the gift shop. You and Ford froze. His cock buried deep inside you, bodies flush. One of his hands slid up your body to cup around you mouth. You did the same to him. Your eyes were wide as you stared into Ford’s. You were breathing so heavily, the air forcing itself through your nose as it was unable to escape your mouth.

Your eyes rolled back and a whine escaped you when he adjusted you to keep you from falling, sheathing himself deeper into you as he pressed you further into the back of the vending machine. He was too still and you needed him too much for this to stop. Your mind body was screaming, unconsciously milking him in an attempt to get him thrusting again, but he wouldn’t budge. In a last ditch attempt, your hips rocked against him.

A loud groan slipped through his lips and past your hand. He gave you a stern look before dropping you back onto your feet, “Naughty girl.”

You could hear Stan’s angry voice, “Well, folks, it seems my cashier has mysteriously disappeared!”

Your state was incredulous as he flipped the hem of your dress back down to your knees, stuffing his cock back into his pants before zipping them up. A frustrated huff left him, but he kissed your forehead so sweetly.

Your body still buzzed with arousal, throwing your arms around his neck to keep him close to you. Damn Stan and his fucking tourists. You kissed him once, twice, three times, “I’ll sneak out. You go back down there.”

“I’ll make it up to you later, I promise,” his forehead rested against yours as he took a calming breath.

This wasn’t fair. He knew it. The sneaking around was killing both of you. It may have been incredibly sexy, but it often led to moments like this, unable to finish. You were both often left frustrated and needy. It was really starting to get to both of you.

You kissed his lips, sending a shock of pleasure down through both of you. “I love you,” you whispered when his hands left you, his body peeling off of yours.

“I love you too,” he smiled before disappearing into the elevator.

You slipped from behind the vending machine. The tourists didn’t notice you, but Stan did. His face angry. Time was money, “There she is, everyone!” You gave Stan a sheepish smile before strolling back behind the counter on shaking legs, “Remember, we put the fun in ‘No Refunds!’”

As the crown browsed, Stan strolled to stand next to you. The stool beneath you was the only thing keeping your knees from giving out, “Sorry, Ford was showing me the quantum destabilizer. I lost track of time.”

“I let you live here for free kid,” he grouched, “don’t be skipping out on work to hang out with that nerd.” Stan snorted, “I think he has a little crush on you. I’d kill him if he ever touches you. Can’t have him distracting my best employee.”

You nodded, “Sorry, Stan.”

[evilminji]

Gold can be exchanged for goods and services (o.o )

Pariah's Keep probably has a shit ton of Precious Goods from various places.

Danny is become King?

If Danny becomes King... then the Zone will somewhat obey him. The Crown and Ring could EASILY tell him where the next natural portal is, where it opens up, and for how long. How many there are. Could probably make a few.

Probably WAS supposed to be making them. Consciously. But, well, Coma(tm).

Would probably count as Kingly Duty to filter and collect. Clean Ecto goes out for souls that remain, a Gateway home for those that wish to LEAVE, so forth and so on.

Effectively, being The Grim Reaper. You don't CAUSE Death. You just guide the way home. If folks so choose.

And that's neat! Horrifying, but neat! And Danny can TOTALLY see how it would eventually drive him completely breakfast cereal fruity nuggets! LUCKILY, he's got a vaguely bro's/Mentor thing going with the ghost who has ALL OF POSSIBLE TIME flowing through HIS head! So Danny should be Gucci!

The headaches suck though.

But WHAT... to do with all this Gold and valuable Space Goods? Most of these aren't even recognized currency on earth! Like the Shells. You could buy a mansion with one of those... on the right planet. On Earth? Pretty paperweight. Hmmmm >.>

Wait.

WAIT!

<o> *points to top of head!* CROWN! It can? Predict and make PORTALS!

Portals lead any WHERE and any WHEN!

:O

Gold... can be exchanged for goods and services. He remembers, holding a gold brick, about to eat so, SO much pizza.

But WAIT! I hear you wondering! Surely, you mean? Within his past? The history and region of space he knows, right? Ha ha :) Nope! Cowards.

Danny is on the alien otter's planet, trading those sweet, sweet Shells for some snacks no human could eat and a shawl for his sister! He's hiding, badly, behind a food stall in the Martian market place. Hoping future hero J'onn Johnes doesn't notice him.

Lying to the Space Cops, bout where his untraceable Space Money came from, on an alien trading satellite. The Green Lantern's not buying it. Oh noooo >.> sudden Fright Knight. Looming Menacingly by the loading doooocks. Everyone's upset! Definitely not related to him! Better go check on that! :) *gets the heck out of dodge* (my king. Please stop using me as a distraction.) (No promises)

But! It's all fun and games? Until your human friends get sick. Like... REALLY sick.

And then you suddenly remember time and space mean nothing to you. One 15 minute flight that way, two doors, a quick flight of stairs, and a literal child's play place slide? You could be in the 32nd century.

That disease is AT BEST, an unpleasant afternoon, there.

Here, your friend could die.

You trade a student two Spanish dubloons. They have no idea what they are. Just like the look of them and know they're real metal. They walk into the pharmacy for you. Don't question your "social experiment paper" lie.

You're back in less then an hour.

The screaming argument about ethics and mortality lasts hours.

She still takes the medicine. Gets better. Won't talk to you for months. Because why does HER life matter more? Why bend the rules for HER? And you can't bring yourself to say what pulses as Truth from both Crown and Ring.

You could because she didn't Matter. Time... would not notice, nor change. She was in no way pivotal to the flow of history, must one more ant beneath its unrelenting march. Mattering only because those who love her CARE. Because one or two little things might change for the better.

But it takes the shine off of it, a little.

Being able to go to the FUTURE. Watch movies and see aliens and humans alike in the crowd. Read books and dance to songs from people who won't be born for hundreds of years. Eat snacks from the farthest reaches of the cosmos. Or the early BCs!

And that's BEFORE other time travelers clock him as That Shopping Guy. The one who keeps popping up... buying things. For what? Unknown. Probably dinner. Half the time it's food. Trinkets. Once it was a really, REALLY nice goat. (His aunt was THRILLED.)

It probably drives Bart crazy. Because NO ONE knows anything about the guy? Everyone just universally goes "oooh yeah! HIM! Yeah, he sure does Exsist(tm). Very... present and exsistant." Like that's not CRAZY! He has so many question. So Many! What is he even BUYING!? Why? Is there an order? Or is he winging it?!

*pulls out list* he needs ANSWERS!

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight

[appleblueberry-pie]

Im back with another yandere satoru request hehehe

So, I was wondereding what would happen if Satoru's beloved found out about his very unhealthy obession with her?

Hold on, lemme cook rq- So, instead of getting the fuck away from him (like most logical people would do) she decides to try her best to get him some help. Like, she'd confront him about his very distirbing behavior, (basically tearing down his entire facade and presenting it to him) and when he's begging her not to be afraid of him, not to abandon him, she tells him that she wants him to get help.

Heres where I kinda got a little stuck....the thing is...he would listen to her every beck and call, but would he really get the help he needs, or would he decieve her and trick her into beliving that he's getting better when in realitly he hasn't changed at all. (He's just alot more careful about what he does behind her back.)

Mkayyy, thats all folks. Thanks for coming to my ted talk.

You kept hearing noises from your backyard.

It woke you up. You couldn't really recognize what it was, but you really hoped it wasn't raccoons eating your berries again. You admit, your garden has many fruits and vegetables, but you certainly didn't want them being eaten. They took too long to grow! So, you got out of bed, threw on your robe over your night gown and quickly made your way downstairs to your backdoor.

When you opened the door and stepped onto the grass, everything seemed fine. Your strawberries were intact. Carrots still growing. No lemons dropped from the tree. But to the far right, you did see a familiar figure continuously puncturing another man's insides with a pretty dangerous looking knife thing.

Someone was in your yard.

Someone was being killed in your yard.

You're within distance of a killer.

By the time the realization set in, the familiar looking man had already saw you staring at him. It was Satoru Gojo.

You both stared at each other. It grew painfully silent and you took a step back, your eyebrows furrowing. You began hearing your heartbeat in your ears and began breathing faster. Your lips separated, probably to scream, and Satoru dropped the knife, immediately running over to you to shut you up in time.

When he trapped you in his arms, you tried to scream in surprise, but he already had one of his hands covering the entire bottom half of your face. "SHHHHHHHhhhhhh. shhhhhhhh. shhhhhh." His heartbeat thumped against your upper back and you tried to look up at him. He was already staring down at you with those big blue eyes and you tried to take his hand off of your mouth. "It's okay, baby. You're alright. It's alright."

Well, he didn't kill you, so clearly you didn't have to be scared. You still tried to talk and he tilted his head. "......you gonna scream if I let you go?" You shook your head. He stared down at you, as if he was trying to catch you in a lie. But then he laughed and finally loosened his hold on you. You took his hand off of your mouth and turned around. "...............Why are you killing someone in my yard?"

He says nothing.

You try to look back at the corpse and he blocks your way. "Fertilizer."

You avert your gaze and hug yourself. "For your tree."

"I already fertilized it two weeks ago. You were there. It doesn't need fertilizer until like a few months later." Satoru goes silent and sighs.

"Alright, babe. You caught me." He stalks closer to you and stops when he's directly in front of you.

"I killed him because he was a terrible waste of space." His smile was unnerving and you only felt more uncomfortable and confused. "What....?" "....He was useless. And he got in the way." The way he spoke made things a little awkward between the two of you. Did this have something to do with you and him? You hoped not. But with the way he said it, and the way he was staring at you began giving you confirmation that this was the case.

"He doesn't deserve you like I do." You inhale sharply and take a step back towards your door. "Satoru-" "No, I'm serious."

"You can't just....kill someone. He's dead!" His shoulders shake as he laughs at your statement. "You think I don't know that? That's the whole point. To die." You shake your head, "I-I need to get you help. This isn't okay. You shouldn't think it's okay to kill someone just to....I don't even know."

"To have you," He states. But you didn't hear. You were already back in the house to research different forms of treatment he could possibly receive. You didn't know what you were going to do with the body.

Satoru did plan to use it as fertilizer.

He lied to you for 12 weeks. And he hated every second of it. He never liked hiding shit from you. Which is why he straight up told you that he killed that dumbass from a while ago. You deserve better than some liar. But he'd be damned if he let some random take you away from him. So, he told you that he was going to the therapist that he been paid off and also killed.

He told you the body was taken care of and you didn't have to worry about it. After all, your tree leaves looked perkier than usual(he didn't tell you that either).

When you heard he was consistently meeting with his therapist, you let him take you out more often. You let him hang out at your place to have sleepovers if you had the time, and you realized that you might have a small crush on him. You shouldn't have a crush on a killer, but here you were. You should've called the police on him a long time ago(not like he'd get rid of them either), but he promised you he'd be good. And he has been. So you trust him.

Satoru learned to stop doing things like being a killer when you're around. It was smart to do it at night. But definitely not where you live. Probably the stupidest thing he's ever done. He should buy that house a few towns off. Everyone would be better off dying in there anyways, especially if there'd be no trace of them in the first place.

He's lucky you're gullible.

[readyforevolution]

"I walked into restaurants and they would point at me and say ‘The (N-word) can’t eat here.’ I would go to a hotel and they would say ‘The (N-word) can’t stay here.’ We want to Charlie Finley’s country club for a welcome home dinner, and they pointed me out with the N-word, ‘he can’t come in here.’ Finley marched the whole team out. Finally, they let me in. He had said ‘We’re gonna go to a diner and eat hamburgers; we’ll go where we’re wanted.'

“I slept on their couch (Rudi and his wife) four nights a week for about a month and a half,” Jackson said. “Finally, they were threatened that they’d burn the apartment complex down unless I got out. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

Jackson’s response to the one question lasted more than three minutes.

No one on the Fox set interrupted him.

No producer screamed into a headset trying to stop him.

“I really didn’t think it would get as much attention as it has gotten,’’ Jackson told USA TODAY Sports after the game, “but as much response as it generated, I didn’t get one negative response. Not one.

“I didn’t know Alex would ask me that question, but I’m glad they gave me a chance to respond.

“I’m glad people listened."

Reggie Jackson

Loud. And clear.

Really, the oddest reaction was from America itself.

Folks acted as if they were shocked this was happening 50 years ago and not centuries ago.

Wake up.

It was in the ’80s when Al Campanis, general manager of the Los Angeles Dodgers, uttered on national TV that Blacks lacked “the necessities" to be general managers or managers in the game.

It was in the early ’90s in Los Angeles when Rodney King was brutally beaten by police officers on the city streets and every officer was acquitted.

It was in the mid-’90s in Vero Beach, Florida, when an apartment complex refused to allow a reporter’s two black children to swim in its community swimming pool.

It was in the past five years that George Floyd was murdered in Minneapolis, Breonna Taylor was shot and killed in her bedroom in Louisville, and Ahmaud Arbery was murdered jogging in Georgia.

So, really, we’re shocked that Jackson couldn’t eat in restaurants, sleep in hotels and hang in country clubs with his white teammates 57 years ago?

Welcome to America.

Racism still flourishes in this country, but the only difference, as Hank Aaron once told me, “the difference back then is that they had hoods. Now, they have neckties and starched shirts."

“In the South," Jackson said, “you knew they didn’t like you. You knew they didn't want you. They didn’t hide it."

Now, racism may not be as overt, but as Jackson reminded the country this week, don’t be naive to think it has gone away, or even greatly diminished.

Oh, and just in case you needed a reminder, there are only two Black managers in baseball, one Black general manager and there still has never been a majority Black owner. Jackson said Saturday he still is incensed the he was denied the opportunity to bid on the Oakland Athletics in 2005 when it was sold to John Fisher.

So, you really believe things have changed?

“I am glad,’’ Jackson said, “that I said what I did. It needed to be said."

And repeated over and over again.

[jesterofcringe]

hi, my friend showed my your account and i really like your writing, i was wondering if you could write one where laura lee and reader meet at church but reader isn’t religious but is there because of family or something?

thank you :)

Read Me a Verse [If That's All They Let You] Laura Lee x Reader

thx for the request mx.lefttoe :3 also sorry if we have any christian readers out there i called it bullshit at one point but its for the plot sorry for being a dick lol also?? i think i used some church terminology wrong? i havent been the church in a minute feel free to correct me if i did i'll make edits ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

★Your family is religious. Or, at least they claim to be. God fearing Christians who only happened to go to church once in a blue moon. You were taught about God, but you didn't believe in that stuff. Not much, anyways. Religion wasn't for you- you didn't need a big man in the sky to motivate you to do right from wrong.

★As such, you were less than delighted to go to church the days your family dragged you along. It was a familiar tune- your parents would suddenly gain inspiration to attend, you'd go for a few weeks, the momentum would wear off and the cycle would continue months later. It was inevitable, whether you liked it or not. You could bitch and moan, you could drag your feet, but you'd still find your way in the isles, kneeling and pretending to pray with the rest of the church goers. May as well get it over with.

★You sat back, tuning out the pastor as you glanced around the church. You twiddled your thumbs, you tapped your shoes together- you even considered taking your phone out, but once your parent saw it on your lap they swapped it out for a bible. Cool.

★You were a patient person, but you couldn't deny how agonizing it could be waiting for service to be over. Your eyes followed the rotation of the fan until you got dizzy, you did the mental math of how much longer you would be there, you even started to count the pillars, subtracting the ones with chipped paint or a cracked foundation. You sighed, eyes darting around as you tried to find something more interesting to look at.

★And then you spotted her. Easily one of the prettiest girls you had ever seen, across the isle in the pews opposite to yours. She sat up tall, listening intently and nodding every so often. She seemed to even be taking notes as the pastor spoke. You tilted your head subconsciously, unaware that you were totally staring until she turned to face you, making a sudden eye contact.

★You damn near screamed, scrambling to make it appear that you were not, in fact, staring at her for god knows how long. You flipped through the bible on your lap, trying to make it seem like you were reading along. Until you realized that you were lost as hell, and had no clue which page you were suppose to be on. You fumbled cluelessly, until you heard the girl across the isle obviously fake cough.

★Sheepishly, you glanced back at her. She pointed at your bible, and then held up three fingers. Three turned into two, which turned into five. Three, two, five. 325..? Oh shit, the page number. You turned to the page, finally aware of where you were supposed to be, before shooting her a grateful thumbs up. She returned a soft smile before turning her attention ahead again.

★And you once again, were bored out of your wits. You half listened to the pastor... something something jesus loves you... something something pray for forgiveness... something something utter bullshit... but then you caught something interesting. There was going to be coffee and pastries after service, and they were encouraging folks to stay after and chat about god or whatever. Fuck. Your parents were definitely going to make you stay.

★You groaned as you watched your parents socialize. You considered pickpocketing them for the car keys, until a voice you didn't recognize rang out rom behind you.

★"Are you new here? I don't think I've seen you here before."

★You almost jumped out of your skin, but then you realized you knew her. Well, not really. It was the same girl who caught you staring earlier. You didn't feel like strangers from the way she helped you when you got lost, but you also didn't quite feel like friends- you hadn't gotten a chance to introduce yourselves yet.

★Her smile was so kind, and you felt like you could get lost in her eyes. Not that you'd mind- her gaze was warm, welcoming. You felt like old friends when you looked into her eyes... Ah fuck you're staring again. God how cringe.

★"Yeah kinda," you managed, blinking back to life, "I've been to church before but I haven't gone in a while." You paused, still a bit embarrassed about what happened earlier, "Thanks for the help earlier, by the way."

★"Oh of course! If you ever need help, you can always come find me :)"

★Maybe showing up to church wouldn't be so bad after all.

★Either way, you sure as hell would be turning up next Sunday, and you just might fumble your bible just to see her smile at you like that once again.

[be-my-ally]

Do you mind?

This is pure, meet-cute, fluff where literally nothing happens. For the prompt - “Do you mind? I came here to get away from other people.” 

thanks to @whositmcwhatsit for the game + @thatbanditqueen for the prompt + @ellie-24 , @vintageshanny , @missmaywemeetagain + @from-memphis-with-love for the fun!!

I super stupidly got a lil bit confused with scheduling this post so ... it's uhh.... by my attempts at scheduling the post 13 hours early, but actually 11 hours late. many apologies folks.

It’s overwhelming - the noise, the people, the conversations. You just need five minutes to yourself, time to take a breather, and try and get yourself back together. You hadn’t known everyone was going to be bringing a partner, or a date, to this party; you’d managed to forgive Nancy for it, because she was the one picking you up (or rather Paul,  her date, was driving) but you had felt blindsided when the group was waiting outside, double the size you had expected since everyone had their plus ones. It was meant to be casual, the birthday party of Sharon’s brother - the perfect excuse for a get-together of people who were now all busy with their own lives. It was meant to have been a chance for you and your friends to catch up and have some fun; you’d all agreed to attend as a group - no partners. Worse than being blindsided as the only girl solo was how left-out you were feeling, it was just making you feel lonely. 

You make your way across the lobby, desperate to find somewhere quiet - away from the other event rooms, or guests. Build yourself back up to going in, stay for the toasts and leave politely after another half hour. You check the time on the large clock above the reception desk as you wander past; half past eleven. A pitiful time to be wanting to leave a party. You want to roll your eyes, internally berating yourself for being so overdramatic. You cringe as you think about how much you’re now looking forward to being tucked up in bed, cup of tea in hand, with perhaps one of the gossip magazines you’d picked up earlier in the week and how much you wished you could just skip this whole party.  It’s quite a large hotel, and there’s several reception and event rooms but eventually, on the other side of the lobby, you stumble into an empty and dark space; seemingly some sort of library/games room situation, judging from the bookshelves surrounding the walls.

You look around, seeing, in the barely-there dim light from the hallway that allowed the objects in the room to be just visible, a little couch nestled in a corner. You practically throw yourself onto it, burrowing your head into the cushion. Ugh, it had been frustrating, and ultimately overwhelming to have to continue to answer the exact same questions again and again from the other people at the party - the same two worded responses coming out of your mouth. 

Where was your boyfriend? Not here. Did you come with a date? Not today. Are you still ‘going’ with Daniel? Not anymore. Sorry to hear about your dad. Thank You. They almost all responded with a similar politely sad but evidently morbidly curious face; clearly desiring to know if your break-up had occurred before or after your father’s funeral, or wanting to know more details in general. It had almost been worse when the questions had ended and small-talk had resumed; relief at the chance to not have to explain your life, but annoyance that it was clearly only because word had spread about your situation. You kick your feet against the sofa cushions still feeling your upset rise again at the memory of being stood in your group of friends while everyone around you laughed about their wedding plans with no regard for the fact that most of them knew that you and Daniel had broken up almost a month ago. 

You reach out, fingertips knocking against something, before your fingers curl under the cushion. 

You scream into it, muffling the noise - as frustrated as you were it would be mortifying to be found like this. You relax for a second as you lose your breath, for some, potentially insane reason you can feel your annoyance lessening and your body starting to release the tension it had been holding. You ready yourself for another, 

But you’re distracted when you take another breath, ready to go again, by a faint cough in the opposite corner. 

“Do you mind?” Your head whirls around, noticing for the first time, a man sat in an armchair on the other side. You push the cushion you’d been screaming into back into its place as surreptitiously as possible, blushing at the idea that someone had just witnessed your behaviour. 

“I came here to get away from other people.” He says it in such a tone that you’re immediately annoyed again, who was he to speak to you like that? You scoff, nose wrinkling; 

“Huh? Well yeah, me too.” He makes a wordless harrumphing noise and you roll your eyes. “I have just as much of a right to be here as you do.”  He doesn’t respond - standing up and starting to walk over to the sofa. He walks through the streak of light shining across the floor from the window in the door and you quickly realise why his voice had seemed familiar. You blink, slightly dazed at seeing Elvis walking towards you, frantically sitting up and smoothing out your skirt; panicked voice in your head telling you to be calm, it’s ok, he’s just a man, don’t panic.

He plops himself down beside you, for a man claiming he was out here to get away from people he had clearly been desperate for company, leaning back against the cushions. He angles himself sideways to get a better look at you, and you tuck your legs up - deciding there was little point in pretending to be all prim and proper when he had just witnessed your miniature breakdown. It means you can sit sideways on the couch - examining his side profile. His hair is coiffed within an inch of its life and it immediately makes you want to muss it up, you wonder if he feels the relief you do when you can finally brush out your Elnett. You sit in silence for a moment, but you can’t resist for much longer than a couple of minutes. 

“What - What are you doing out here?” You glance at his fancy looking suit and tie, “You, uh, here for a party?” He shakes his head at your tentative questions, glancing over at you, 

“it’s a- uh benefit thing but it’s really just an excuse for everyone to hound me for somethin’ or other, half of the producers are in there… they want me to do more movies, I don’t know - I, I,  shouldn’t tell you this but I’m not happy with them at the moment and I-I want to go back to the music but…I don’t know.” You frown, having no idea how to respond to that, hesitating briefly before patting his arm gently. 

“Oh, that sounds awful - you should be able to do whatever you want to do.” He huffs a little laugh at that, staring across the room before turning back to you, 

“Anyway honey, what’s got you all screamin’ into that little pillow - what’d it ever do to you?” He smiles as you blush, you were still hoping that by some miracle he might not have noticed that - although you suppose a screaming girl flinging herself onto a sofa was pretty obvious. 

It sounds trivial and childish when you try to explain, especially in the face of his own, clearly much larger and important problems; “‘s just - I’ve had this difficult break up recently, and all my friends were gonna come to this party solo but they’ve, they’ve actually all brought their partners and I’m just, all on my own. I just, I didn’t want to come anyway but I definitely wouldn’t have agreed to come if I’d known!” 

“Pretty thing like you couldn’t get a date?” You blink at him, he’s turned the charm on full force and it feels almost a bit much to have his bright eyes focussed on you. 

“No-no it wasn’t like that,” You’re quick to deny that it was something you’d failed to do, “I didn’t know! They all told me we were coming together!” He laughs, a little cruelly, 

“And you believed ‘em?” You frowned, squirming a little - you had believed them, perhaps in sheer desperation to make it worthwhile leaving your house, or from the belief that they also wanted to spend time with you. You shrug, unsure what else to say, you wish you weren’t going home to an empty house, you wish you’d at least been able to have fun this evening, but it wasn’t like you’d be able to do anything about it now. You change the subject, 

“Tell me more about the movies, do you not like making them?” You tried to remember if you’d even been to see his latest release, but couldn’t even remember the name to suggest it wasn’t as bad as he thought. He looks pleased that you’re interested, and starts to chat away - explaining his reservations with the soundtracks, and filming methods. You are listening, but there’s something about his voice, and while you’re interested in what he’s telling you, fascinated by the glimpse into an industry so removed from your everyday life as he starts to go into the intricacies of his studio contracts you can feel your attention beginning to wane. Your eyes starting to drift close, and your head dipping towards his shoulder. A moment later his hand, somehow simultaneously heavy and delicate, brushes your shoulder, startling you out of your relaxed almost-asleep state. 

“C’mon honey, who’s gonna take you home? You got a car?” You blink, shaking your head, 

“No, no I’m uh, No, I got a ride here - It’s not far though,” You shrug, “I can get a cab, or walk.” He frowns at you, 

“You’re dead on your feet,” He looks at you sideways, as if assessing you for something, “I got a room upstairs, you can join me if you like?” You blink properly awake at that, a surge of anxiety rippling through you - as much as you’d want to you’re not ready for anything intimate again, too fragile. The idea of having to turn down Elvis though is sending your heart racing. 

“I don’t, I don’t know if I can, I haven’t, not with just anyone and my, my, boy-my ex-boyfriend he was uh, no I think I really ought to go home.” He nods, a little sadly, 

“Well that’s alright sweetheart, if you want, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea - just, just offering to, uh, sleep mama, that’s all.” He looks back at you, completely earnest, eyes wide, and you can feel yourself caving in, 

“Well alright then. But, no funny business.” He does a scout salute as he beams at you, and you giggle - relaxing again; you know you shouldn’t trust him, he’s still a man you’ve just met and yet he just gives off an air, that you somehow know you’ll be safe with him. 

Your nerves skyrocket as he pulls you by the hand into the elevator, you hope he can’t feel your anxiety through your clammy hands, and you wonder how it is that he was just able to sneak away so easily. He starts to talk in the confined space, you wonder if he can tell you were getting nervous, telling you,

“I’m not sure if it’s the same thing,” Looking a little nervous himself, “Because I haven’t - haven’t uh had a split, but I, I get lonely too. I just, just like having someone ‘round to uh, take care of… or take care of me.” He whispers it like a secret and your heart aches a little for him, but before you can respond the doors are opening and he’s pulling you down the hallway. It’s not that late so you don’t expect for him to immediately be directing you through to the bathroom, instructing you to get ready for bed, but you also can’t find the energy to protest. 

You’re glad, now you’re thinking about it, that you didn’t bother with too-much make up, as you inspect your face, hopeful that keeping it on throughout the night won’t make you break out too much. His voice though chimes in through the door - almost as if he could hear your thoughts; 

“There’s cold cream on the side there, honey.” You’re pleased, but also a little disconcerted - was that how many women he had over? Your eyes rove over the counter, seeing the little jar on the side, and you reach for it - before noticing the little stack of eyeliners and mascaras, oh, it’s for him. You hate that that makes you feel better - you shouldn’t be feeling jealous, he’d invited you up here to sleep, because it was convenient. Nothing else. 

You leave the bathroom, having taken the pins out of your hair and brushed it out, and face fresh from being washed to find him waiting for you. He had already gotten himself changed - monogrammed silk-satin pyjamas that looked almost too similar to something your father might have worn, it made you smile to yourself. You still couldn’t believe you were getting to see him like this. He motions you forward, 

“Let me take care of you, honey,” You frown, a little confused, until he’s turning you around to undo the waistband on your party dress, his fingers light over the zipper down your back. You clutch the dress to your chest as it starts to open down your back, still shy about showing off too much to him. You can’t help but shiver as you feel his hands on your bare skin; perhaps you’ve been touch starved since your break-up, it feels like an age since you’ve even had a fingertip brush across your body. You yelp a little when he tugs the dress down, pulling it off of your arms and away from your torso, pooling at your feet. He chuckles when you wrap an arm around yourself, embarrassed at your boring, old, bra slip and underwear, 

“S’ok baby, here put these on.” He hands you a soft cotton shirt, and you nibble your lip looking at him for a moment, before he playfully huffs and putting a hand over his eyes, “I won’t look, go on.” You hastily pull the slip off, quickly shrugging the shirt on.

“Ok, you can open your eyes again.” He looks over at you, smiling, clearly pleased with however you look. You feel like a child, but you honestly couldn’t care less. Instead you make the subconscious decision to lean into the warmth and coziness he was providing, clambering under the bedsheets he pulled back, fingering the EP adorned on your breast while you waited for him to come back from the bathroom. You’d only known him two hours and now you were feeling owned. It wasn’t, however, an unwelcome feeling, alarmingly domestic perhaps, worryingly forward but not unwelcome. 

When he returns he turns off the lights, climbing in behind you. You know you should be more reserved, more reluctant but you can’t find it in yourself to be instead curling into his body, his arms automatically coming around you. You can't help but hope that this might happen again as outlandish as it might seem. But if nothing else ever comes from it at least you can sleep happy that it had been worth your while leaving the house tonight, if only for the feel of his warm body against yours, and the knowledge of how his hair looks before he goes to bed.

…

[myosotisa]

ceilings - s.h.

Steve Harrington x Reader, Chrissy Cunningham x Steve Harrington

‖  summary: 2 and a half years of your relationship with your best friend Steve.

‖  tags: cheating/infidelity, dubcon, sexual content. you're the one outside of the relationship. slight emetophobia warning. reader is described AFAB, no pronouns, no y/n. angst. hurt no comfort. it's a rough one folks, no happy endings here. please consume with caution.

‖  word count: 2k

The first time your best friend touches you is October 30th.

A few times a month you and your tight knit group of friends get together around a hand stained table and play board games. Those are your favorite nights – full of laughs and screaming and jokes and drinking. You count the days of your quiet, empty life between those evenings.

It's a Friday. You've had more to drink than you normally do. Steve, your best friend, is sitting next to you, your friends Jonathan and Nancy across the table. Eddie, the only other single person in your friend group, and Chrissy, Steve's girlfriend, are both not there.

When Steve gets up to refill his drink, you swing your legs up to rest on his chair, laughing to yourself. When he comes back, you expect him to throw your legs off with a fake scowl, maybe sit on your shins in retribution. Instead, he scoops a forearm under both your calves to lift them and settles them into his lap after he sits down.

You're stunned, but only for a moment. The 4 of you return to the game, your legs resting on Steve's thighs beneath the table.

Another drink later, you feel Steve's warm palm against your shin. It's a completely innocent touch, just resting on your skin. To you it feels strange, unfamiliar – you're touch starved and accept it as is.

The night goes on and Steve's hand starts to move. A subtle brush of his thumb turns into a gentle rub along your shin and keeps inching higher and higher. You're intoxicated, dizzy, struggling to keep up with what's going on as it progresses. And his touch feels good.

Jonathan excuses himself to stumble over to the bathroom so you, Steve, and Nancy pause the game to talk. Steve tucks the tip of his finger beneath the hem of your shorts and you can't help but look over at him in shock. He just smiles, same as always, and goes back to talking to Nancy. You face forward and try to get your fuzzy brain to figure out what's going on.

Am I just imagining this? You've known Steve for years and he's never shown any interest in you beyond playful flirting. He flirts with everyone. And he's with Chrissy: beautiful, blonde, skinny, perky. They say I love you daily and live in this apartment together.

But she's not here. And Steve's hand is brushing your clit over your shorts.

You don't stop him.

When Nancy and Jonathan say they are getting ready to call a ride, you get up too. Your head is spinning and you can't think straight. Steve looks a bit disappointed but doesn't stop you.

The next 2 times you all meet up to play games, Steve finds a way between your legs. Even when he's sober. Even when Chrissy is home. Under the table, around a corner, behind someone's back. He takes two fingers and drags them up and down your slit, over your clothes, and looks delighted when your breath catches in your throat.

You never stop him. Even when you're sober. Even when you go home hating yourself.

You tell yourself it's thrilling, the sneaking around. Rationalize how nice it is for someone to know everything about you, even the dark and dusty corners of your heart, and still desire you. One night he whispers how much he wants you, what he'd do if the two of you were alone. And you can't remember the last time you felt wanted. It's like a drug – a strong hit of Steve in a dark corner soothes the lonely ache inside your heart. Even when you go home alone and he gets into bed with her.

The first time he fucks you, she's asleep in the room next door. It's the middle of the night and he has his hand over your mouth, whispering that you need to be quiet so she doesn't hear you. It feels like you're being torn in two; feeling wanted and feeling alive as you do something you shouldn't, drowning in your guilt and shame at what the reality is.

He finishes inside you without even getting you close. You walk home alone with his cum sliding down the inside of your thigh.

A year goes by.

Every time is the last time, both of you say so. He complains of feeling like the guilt is crushing him. You try to offer solutions that he never accepts. You both talk about how wrong it is, how fucked up you both are. How it hardly even feels good or exciting anymore.

He pulls your pants down anyway, whispering that it's the last time.

It isn't.

It's October again and an unhelpful part of your brain tells you that it's a few days off from 1 year since it began. You are sitting at your desk at work and unlock your phone, pulling up Instagram. You scroll by a few posts when you spot his username.

It's like dropping an anchor through glass.

He proposed to her this weekend, the caption explains. The photo is Steve on one knee in front of Chrissy at the place they had their first date. You swipe and it's a selfie – Chrissy holding up a pretty little diamond on her slender finger and 100 watt smiles from both of them. The comment section is full of people congratulating them: how perfect they are together, how happy they look.

You run to the bathroom and lose your lunch.

That weekend after the games are put away, he stands in front of you, asking if he can fuck your mouth. His hand is so comforting on your jaw, his eyes so full of tenderness. You undo his pants yourself and part your lips like you have a hundred times before.

You go home unsatisfied and sob into your bedspread.

2 months later and he has a crisis. The worst day of his life. He's shaking, crying, panicking. But he doesn't go to her. He goes to you.

You hold him as he cries, comfort him, tell him everything is going to be okay. A bitter part of you can't stop thinking about all the times you walked home alone after getting him off, drowning in guilt and emptiness. Comforting yourself as you cried into your pillows. But you tell yourself this moment is important – he needs you, he wants you, he is choosing you. He feels like his world is ending and he knocks on your door.

3 weeks later and the moment means nothing. The cycle continues.

The first time you tell someone the whole story, from the very beginning, it doesn't go as you hoped. It's someone who doesn't know anyone involved, 3 steps removed from all of them. You are desperate to get it off your chest, beg for help from how it weighs you down day after day.

A part of you thought maybe they would understand. They would see why you do it, why you keep saying yes, why you don't put a stop to it. You hoped they would at least try to see you.

The only questions they ask are, "Does his fiance know? Are you going to tell her?" You don't know how to answer. And all you feel is judgement. The weight only gets heavier.

You never speak of it again. To anyone.

A few more months pass. Steve and Chrissy have another fight. He ends up in your bed. After coming inside you (again), and not asking if you came (again), you lay there and talk. He explains the fight, says they just keep fighting, that sometimes he dreads going home to her.

You tell him maybe this isn't working, maybe he should consider leaving her.

"You're only saying that because you want to be with me."

It hits like a punch to the gut. "Steve, you know everything about me. Do you really think I'd do that?"

He doesn't answer, but you know he understands. You'd never put yourself before him. He knows that. "She loves me… And I love her."

If you loved her, how could you do this to her for all this time? You want to scream.

If you loved her, why are you here in my bed?

Instead you listen to him make more and more excuses of why he stays with her. Despite his own betrayal, despite how shitty they treat each other, despite how wrong they are together.

I love you and it's killing me. You want to scream.

You never do. And he goes home to her the next morning.

You ignore his advances for the next 6 months.

It feels good. To set a boundary that way. To choose yourself. And eventually he stops trying, accepts it as it is. The two of you go back to being the same best friends you were before that October 2 years ago. It feels like growth, like you're finally doing something right.

Sure, you're lonely. And sometimes seeing him with her, knowing she still doesn't know, makes the guilt crawl back up your throat and threaten to choke you. But it gets easier.

Then you have a crisis. The worst day of your life. You're shaking, crying, panicking. And you don't have anyone to go to but him.

He buys you food, streams your favorite movie. He sits right next to you on his couch, a comforting arm around your shoulders, a warm touch you haven't felt in months. It's something that friends do. It's casual, normal.

But you feel so empty, so broken, so hopeless. You're so fucking alone. It feels like your world is ending. And when his hand strays too low, you are desperate to feel something different. Something else, even if it's worse. 

It's like a drug – and you relapse.

The cycle begins again.

A few more weeks go by. You get home from work and check your mailbox. There's a pristine white envelope with gold embellishments sitting on top of the normal junk mail. You flip it over and see your name in the perfect curve of Chrissy's handwriting.

A wedding invitation. Asking you to save the date. There's a handwritten note from her on the bottom next to the RSVP. "Don't bring a plus one if you can help it! There's someone coming I want you to meet and I really think you'll hit it off ;)"

You didn't think it was possible, but you hate yourself just a little bit more.

2 weeks later Steve shows up at your door. He walks in like he owns the place but stops short when he sees the invitation on your counter.

With a kitchen island's width of safety between the two of you, you finally ask. "Does she know?"

Steve's eyes meet yours. The flop of hair on his head moves as he shakes it in a 'no.'

"Are you really going to marry her without saying anything?"

He doesn't answer. Just stares.

Bile rises in your throat. The white envelope in his hand gives you the strength to ask the question you knew would destroy everything. "Just tell me this, Steve. Was all of this because of how you feel about me?" Your voice cracks, tears pushing at your eyes. "Or, if I had said no, would you just have gone and found someone else to fuck behind her back?"

There's a long stretch of silence. It feels more and more like a noose tightening around your neck as the seconds pass.

"I don't know."

A sob tears its way out of your throat, your hands grappling for the counter between you to stop from collapsing. Through your tears you see him falter and then try to reach for you, but you flinch away.

"Get out."

He actually has the gall to look shocked. "Come on, let's just talk about this."

"Steve." Your voice is liquid nitrogen and he freezes on contact. You've never spoken to him like this before and he doesn't know what to do. "Get. Out."

He whispers your name and it hits you like a slap, another sob tearing up your esophagus as you turn away. Eventually he stops hovering, collects his briefcase, puts his shoes back on. The door clicks shut behind him.

You collapse onto your kitchen floor and cry your fucking eyes out while he goes home to her.

They get married that spring.

thanks for reading.

[waythroughtheice]

I just think they're neat, have thoughts.

I like to think if Geo and Lan were in the same time period but still facing their threats seperatly they'd be social media buddies. Maybe rivals in public chats.

They publically call the other Megaman a copycat.

I bet Lan would call Geo out for appearing everywhere without a passport.

Geo would call Lan out for not being able to go anywhere without chaos occuring.

They are the only ones allowed to pick on each other. They step in in each others crises. Technically they should not be able to contact each other, what with the whole entirely different communication methods needing specialized tech to work with. They do not care.

A beautiful social media rivalry.

Maenwhile, the two are planning a way to make all the tech cross compatible. Possibly preventing a war between two sides of the world in the process.

Geo would not be 100% isolated in this world. Because Lan would not let him. There would be at least one message a day probably. As well as plans to figure out how to manipulate reality to get the crew of missing folks back. (You can't tell me they wouldn't. Geo is calmer but still a bit of a gremlin in canon. Imagine Lan's influence. Lan. Who roller skates everywhere. Yeah.)

Imagine the news when Lan gets involved in the Duo mess. Half the world is frantically telling their friends aliens are real and the other half is just screaming that they already knew this. Geo offers to help probably. What's another god?

At the end of SF3 Lan and Geo would probably scrap so many plans for figuring out how to save the crew members. Until it clicks that Kelvin is the only one that came back. Plans are still on! (The world trembles in fear.)

Geo still goes back in time. Just not as far. Lan asked many questions that day about why his friend was in two separate place and why he looked different and why his account was glitching and- (Lan, months later, having just learned what happened from a Geo who just went through the events of operate shooting star: You fucker. You time traveled and didn't save the crew we've been obsessing over trying to save!)

Dr. Hikari is. So tired of trying to keep track of his sons through the news. They keep getting places and he's never entirely sure he has the right Megaman in the news because theres no photos (good protect minors policy. Bad for dad of chaos children who can't eat without stumbling into a cult.) Help him. His wife cackles in her son tells her everything. Revenge for not coming home more often.

Hope is also in a group chat. Boreal, and the Hikari parents are there. They are all team let these kids be kids- wait no how did you- stop breaking physics- kids. Please.

Kazuma would be a Hikari cousin here. Because I like his design and wanted to include him.

(I may or may not already be doing something with this but I just. Wanted to share. Chaos children uniting beloved.)

Geo and Lan begin in the same time period would be so chaotic. Lan definitely calls Geo a copy cat, Omega-Xis is the one who calls them the copy cat. (Geo doesn't really care, which makes Lan get annoyed.)

They absolutely call each other out on everything, but when the chips are down they're back to back and fighting seamlessly. Chad is......irritated. He and Solo get along well, actually.

Lan bothers Geo always. Geo is eventually bugged out of his room like two weeks into his self-imposed exile, and he probably meets Luna and co. early because of it. They absolutely begin to manipulate reality. They use Geo's dimensional-travel ability relentlessly. Lan figures out a way for Mega Man.exe to travel with him. Then for Lan to go with him. The dimensions quiver in fear.

The two geniuses are cackling as they make their supposedly incompatible tech compatible. A new industry has been birthed and it was done by two ten year olds.

Geo probably kicks Duo off-planet. It's his planet get off. He probably calls in the alliance with King Cepheus and uses the Duo situation to make alliances with other planets. Lan now has access to a galaxy that wants to be friends with him. Uh-oh.

By SF3 so many just tremble in fear at Lan and Geo's escapades. Kelvin and Yuucihiro are literally the only ones who can reign them in, somewhat.

Geo @ Lan after the time travel escapade: Yeah I didn't ask because you want to solve it yourself. You'd yell at me if I did save them because then we'd have all these plans we can't use anymore.

Dr. Hikari is the Lone Ranger of common sense. He tries so hard. He and Kelvin get along great after Kelvin is rescued--they often go for drinks to sigh.

The parent group chat shares tips on how to divert the children's attentions from dangerous things, and how to keep them fed healthy things since they're so active!

I see your "Kazuma is a cousin" and raise you "Kazuma is Lan and Hub's triplet."

[superpixie42]

So it's not quite ready for AO3 buuuuuuuuuuut

I did make progress on The Thing aka my whole 7-part new AU for InuKag Week. After not writing anything for months, I'm a little rusty and this is more ambitious in terms of style and world building than I typically work with so I'm not sure when the whole thing will be ready, but I love love love @inukag-week and seeing so many folks coming out of hiatus to participate really inspired me to get *something* ready to rock.

Much love to @anisaanisa @kstewdeux and @dawnrider for their help as I shook off the cobwebs.

So here is Part 1: Love Languages (aka Touch & Miscommunication)

General Info:

Summary:

Kagome Higurashi would sell her soul to get into a good high school. No. Literally. The ratty old journal she found in her grandfather's shed may have been a long shot, but with only one more day before her entrance exam, she really didn't have anything to lose. But when the Hell Hound Inuyasha actually materializes in her room, it turns out to be more than either of them bargained for.

RATING: M or E (but this part is T, for language)

Words: 2,000 (I know I was shocked too)

TAGS (for the whole fic not just these parts) Modern AU // InuKag Week 2023 //Serial Style// Time Jumps//Tumblr events//Modern setting//Sexual content- masturbation//Demon Summoning AU//Bittersweet Endings//No additional character tags

In which Kagome learns to be careful what she wishes for.

–

Kagome checked the instructions one more time. She had the candle, the fresh meat, the knife, and was using clean linen paper. Honestly it all looked so… dorky. She let out a frustrated sigh, unsure if she felt more disappointed or just plain stupid. Doing stuff like this was probably why she wasn’t going to get into a decent high school. Or college. And if med school ever found out she honestly tried to summon a demon using instructions she found in a handwritten journal in a shed on her grandfather’s shrine she would have a better chance of becoming a patient than treating them. 

And yet here she was. Kagome Higurashi on her knees in a black dress and dark cardigan looking straight out of an American horror movie, hoping against hope that her soul was worth a better-than-passing grade on tomorrow’s entrance exams. She was smart - smarter than her current situation made her feel, that’s for damn sure. But after nearly a semester of sick days there just wasn’t enough cram school on Earth to get her up to speed. She needed this to work. This had to work. 

She checked the clock: a good hour before her mother and brother got home. It was now or never.

Taking a deep breath Kagome quickly sliced the kitchen knife across her finger. She pressed down onto the middle of the white page. With as much conviction as she could muster she finally spoke: “Inuyasha, I need help.”

A beat passed. 

Then another. 

Nothing happened.

Honestly, she didn’t know what she expected.  Defeated, she swore violently and tore the useless little paper with its stupid little spell clean in half.

As soon as the last fiber broke there was a deafening roar. Kagome screamed and stood, pressing her back against her bedroom door. In front of her the air crackled with energy as the room went black, then flashed orange with light and heat as the walls burst into unnatural flames. In the middle of the room, pulling his way out of the torn half of paper, was a giant white dog. It growled and snarled and snapped its jaws; spittle hissing into steam. 

The Hell Hound filled the whole room, his red eyes with blue irises bore into Kagome, staring her down like the prey she was suddenly very sure she was. As Inuyasha’s shoulders dropped low to let him take the single step between them, Kagome considered her options. 

One, burn to death. 

Two, be mauled to death. 

Three, something equally melodramatic considering she summoned a fucking demon to pass a test. 

She quickly surveyed the room for an option four, looking hopefully at the window behind the hound. Her vision was blocked as the beast twisted slightly to face her fully again, its pointed white ears alert and focused on the heartbeat she could hear loud as a drum. She watched the ear twitch at her intake of breath. Maybe it was a lack of oxygen from the arson she’d accidentally committed, but the longer she looked at the ears the softer they looked. Figuring she was going to die anyway, Kagome slowly raised her hand; Inuyasha finally blinked, then moved his eyes to follow her raising arm. 

As softly as she could manage, Kagome dragged her middle finger down from the tip, but the ear didn’t so much as flinch. Emboldened, she quickly caressed her thumb and forefinger on the fluffy white ear. 

As soon as her fingers closed around the soft appendage the growling stopped and instead she heard a very human voice shouting in her face.

“What the fuck lady? You don’t pet a Hell Hound!” 

As suddenly as it appeared the fire disappeared. Kagome dropped to her knees in confusion and relief as her room reappeared around her, untouched and unscathed by the flames no longer licking at her face. She blinked stupidly at where the monstrous dog had been only seconds ago. In its place was a pale, fit, glowering man - the pointy ears she’d just held in her hand perched on top of a thick pile of frizzy white hair. Below the pinned back ears were thick, scowling eyebrows, molten golden eyes with slit pupils, and an expression as black as a thundercloud. She tried to find somewhere else to look when the heat returned quickly to her face as she realized that the angry demon dog man was a naked angry demon dog man. 

She ripped her eyes back to the ears. Unusual. 

Then to his eyes. Unsettling. 

The penis. Unexpected.

In an undignified fluster she smacked her face to the floor in a deep bow.

“My name is Kagome and my Lord Inuyasha I beg you to help me, please please I have to get into High School! In exchange I’ll give you anything you want I swear! Just make sure I pass and it’s yours.”

Inuyasha stood absolutely dumbfounded in the middle of what he now realized was a small bedroom, in a small house, next to a small shrine. When he’d felt his summoning charm call him he expected to rip into a board room, or a camp fire, or the aftermath of something that had gone very pear shaped. He was used to being offered souls, meat, or blood in exchange for power, murder, money; or to make problems go away in whatever manner he wanted. He sure as shit didn’t expect a teenager in a pink cat sweater to touch his ears and then ask him to help her cheat on a test. 

He scoffed. But after five hundred years of the same pathetic, selfish demands, novelty wasn’t something Inuyasha was willing to walk away from so quickly. He bit. 

“Keh, what can a girl like you even offer a hell hound?”

Kagome lifted her head slightly to look at him. “Anything you want. I’m a virgin-”

“Nope.”

“I am so!” she shouted indigently. She raised herself up onto her knees and glared. Yes, Kagome was turning to black magic to pass her exam but she wasn’t going to have her character assassinated by a demon. “You don’t have to be rude ya know!”

Inuyasha blinked as his ears flattened of their own accord. It had been a very long time since anyone scolded him. Another unexpected turn in this summoning. He crossed his arms and returned her glare.  

“I mean no I’m not interested in your virginity. Or your soul, you humans have such tiny souls anyway.” He smirked as he saw her lip twitch with what he was sure was a scathing retort. Kagome, however, did not take the bait. Instead she reigned in her temper and bowed low again. In a much less desperate tone she spoke into the floor. 

“In exchange for making sure I get into a high school that will get me into medical school I will give you anything you ask.”

“You summoned a demon for that? If you can’t even pass an entrance exam what makes you think you can survive medical school? Ya can’t offer your virginity to a demon twice ya know - how were you even gonna graduate?”

That, however, was too much. Kagome stood and stomped over to him, poking her finger into his chest for emphasis as she shouted. 

“Listen here pal! I could pass that test all on my own if they would just give me some time! It’s not my fault I got sick, like doctors aren’t allowed to get sick sometimes!?” She growled in frustration, a sound that Inuyasha couldn’t help but appreciate as it sounded not unlike his own. “It’s not fair. I just need time to catch up on the material and I know I could do it on my own. But if I don’t take the test tomorrow, or I flunk and retake it, that’s it, my reputation will never recover even if my grade point average does.” 

Inuyasha considered her request. I wouldn’t take any effort at all to change her score on the exam. But then he’d be back to aimlessly wandering until someone much less interesting with a much less, well not wholesome, but definitely more gruesome demand calls him. This Kagome stood up to him, defended herself, faced death in the eye and instead of running she reached out to touch it. While he had already decided to grant her wish, he had also decided he wasn’t quite going to do it the way she asked.

“You ain’t the only one with a reputation,” he said. He took a step back, cutting the tension and giving Kagome space to breathe. “If I’m gonna get you into this stupid special school I gotta make sure you stay there. Folks summoning me need to know I get the job all the way done, not taking the easy way out.”

Kagome narrowed his eyes, skeptical of the idea of creating an ongoing contract instead of the single transaction she expected. But then again, he wasn’t entirely wrong. What if changing her scores got noticed and she needed another fix? What if she got sick again? Isn’t that why you’re supposed to be really, really specific with genies? Assuming there were genies- but that afternoon’s events made her consider taking up antiquing as a hobby just in case.

“You still haven’t told me what you want as payment.”

“Well,” he said, “depends on what you need.” He picked at his ear with a pointed finger to feign disinterest. “To guarantee a passing grade I’ll just need something small. But to un-dead someone you cut up in clinicals will be a whole other matter,” he smirked at her undignified snort, “but not as much as convincing the class leader to take six months in Shanghai to improve your standing. But let’s not worry about that just yet.” 

Kagome braced herself, but still felt the air rush out of her lungs when he finally said, “I want your right eye.” He continued quickly, “For one year, I want to see everything you see through that eye. It becomes my eye. If I get bored, I can simply make it go black. Or maybe I use it to track someone for another wish. Or maybe I don’t do anything at all; but it’s mine to do as I will.”

He slit open the tab of his left thumb with a quick swipe of his claw. “Do we have a bargain?”

Kagome hesitated. This seemed more annoying than costly- thought being suddenly blind in one eye wasn’t what she’d expected. Was this better or worse?

Did she really feel like she had a choice anymore? 

“Deal.”

With one smooth motion Inuyasha thrust his thumb into her eyesocket. The force of the blow knocked her to the ground and she quickly threw both hands up to cover her face as her left eye burned. As soon as it started, it ended. Kagome blinked slowly, looking around the empty room. It looked exactly as it had an hour ago and if not for the dull ache behind her orbitals and the sweat caking her brow she might have thought it was all a dream. On hands and knees she scrambled across the floor and snatched the small mirror from the desk.

Staring back at her was one of her traditional brown eyes. The other was bloodshot, with a blown pupil, and a bright sapphire blue iris; and without her permission, it winked back at her.

[13leaguestories]

February 2023 Forecast

I am writing this with my back and neck in horrible pain. Worse way to start your morning is to get up, stretch, and then pull something. I feel bed ridden.

"T, are you done with your break?" No idea. Define break. My brain is slowly coming back to me so good news is I'm not quitting lmfao. My brain almost had me in the first half ... and most of the second. When I do return though, I'm implementing a new writing process called "write what I want to fucking write when I want to fucking write it."

"T, did you need to add all those expletives?" No. But you know how a lot of folks be like 'as I get older I'm going to curse less?' I'm the opposite. I curse more. It makes me feel all tingly inside.

Alright, welcome to the second best month, purely because it's my birthday month, that's literally it. You know I share this month with both my brother and my father, plus my parents and my brother's anniversaries. Like, the shortest month is basically the busiest for my family in terms of celebrations. Why did they do this? I don't know, no one uses sense in this family besides me.

MOVING ON! Bout to enter into a All My Woes episode.

Superstition S3

Still on break. Do not ask me when it's coming back. Because I'm going to do what I should've done (and what you guys thought I do already) and actually write a good bit of it. I'll probably put up a poll asking if you guys want to keep the bi-weekly schedule or if I just update it as the episodes are complete.

Throne of Ashes

Working on updating the demo with Makaio's finished demo and some bug fixes for the other routes. Nour is next and Ozara will be following them on that upload schedule.

Insight

Because unlike its cousin, For the Crown, Insight is not 100% dead, it's more like on life support. But I'll be updating it with the new UI that I have to bring it in line with the others. Also an additional chapter will be added so now the demo will end at Ch5.

Future T here. I've already updated it with the new UI and the first bug fix. A bigger one is coming so still, if you find any bugs, hold off on sending them in. Bug reports make me depressed and you guys don't want to see that, right? RIGHT?!

Horizon: Sea of Stars

Per my "do what ya want" lifestyle, yes, Tierra has done it again. She has said fuck it to common sense and those two friends out of ten that said don't do it, and she went and made a new project. I blame eight friends who inspire me in the most negative ways because I never blame myself. Never blame yourselves, you're never toxic, it's those around you. (That's a lie, do not quote me. My god.)

This is a scif-fi project (because I needed to have the holy trinity of the best genres out there to make myself feel complete (jokes on me I still feel empty)). The MC is like Phoenix MC in some ways where this is not exactly 100% self-insert friendly, there are a few traits included and mindsets that you as the reader can't change. 6 romances, 2 males, 2 females, and 2 nonbinary. 5 of the 6 are aliens. And art is on it's way with two of the characters already done. I have art of the alien species as well because I know how difficult it can be to picture an alien based off of descriptions alone. They will be included in story to further help.

This is me just telling you guys, I'll post all of the info of the book itself with the demo like I normally do. Especially when I figure out where I want the demo to stop at. It's still pretty much in alpha mode with only one chapter done and even that is still seeing edits.

Also if any of you have got this far and know an artist or you are someone who can do really nice colorful covers and are good with backgrounds then tell me because I'm still searching for a cover artist.

. . .

There is also now a Light Mode on some stories. If it's not there then it's being worked on. Don't look at Superstition, it's not there.

Alright, I think that's it. I'm going to go lie down and scream at the heavens about my neck.

Future T again. My neck is better but if I look over my shoulder it's like "naw girl, stop that."

[pcos-and-endo-awareness]

What’s YOUR personal experience with these disorders? :-)

Hello anon! I know I’ve made this post before but it’s buried somewhere. So here it is! Buckle up folks!

I always struggled with bad periods. Heavy flow, horrific cramps, irregular timing. I just thought that’s what it is and everyone deals with it. I figured the pain I experienced trying to use tampons was all in my head, some psychological fear due to my religious upbringing.

It wasn’t until college that I realized maybe my experience wasn’t normal. Maybe people aren’t supposed to be in this much pain. Maybe something was wrong. My pain got to be so overwhelming that I went to the emergency room. After a rather traumatic experience, I was eventually told that I had ovarian cysts and one of them had ruptured, and just go to my OBGYN and take some Advil. (Great advice, wonderful care. /s)

PCOS was in my family history, and my aunts and sisters all struggled with it. My then OBGYN diagnosed me with it, but basically said the same thing as the ER nurses. Take some ibuprofen and birth control and get over it. A diagnosis doesn’t do anything.

I had another episode with cysts about two years later, after I was out of college. I knew what it was this time, and I knew they’d only tell me the same thing. Take Advil and stop crying. So I didn’t bother going to the ER, and I tried to deal with the pain on my own. My (much nicer) OBGYN monitored the two softball sized cysts on my right ovary, and said we’d just keep an eye on them until they went away. That worked for a while, but not for long. One night my mother insisted on taking me to the ER because I was practically screaming in pain. After another traumatic visit, I was, you guessed it, told to take Advil and go home. It was probably another rupture.

Except it wasn’t. The next day I visited my OBGYN for an ultrasound so she could see what was going on. I was called back later that night and told to come in for emergency surgery. The cysts were torsing my ovary and cutting off the blood supply. Very scary situation, I’d never had a big surgery before. I was rushed in for the laparoscopy. This procedure usually takes less than a half hour. For me, I was on the table over two and a half hours. The reason being, not only did I have two huge cysts, but I was discovered to also have endometriosis. The cysts and all my organs had lesions, and everything was fused together. My OBGYN had to scrape the extra tissue from all my organs, she said it was the worst case of endo she’s ever seen, and I must have the highest pain tolerance ever to not be screaming my head off all day long. It was during this surgery I lost my right ovary, dead from having no blood supply.

Recovering from that surgery took me six months. It was brutal and at times, humiliating. My insides were raw and my muscles felt like goo. The only good thing to come out of it was meeting my lovely physical therapist, whom I still talk to today.

Today, five years later, I still deal with PCOS and endo. I have it mostly under control with the depo shot and many other medications. But… I struggle to lose weight, I have high blood pressure, I have major chronic fatigue, I’m at risk for diabetes, I still have migraines and flare ups and GI problems. My health is always going to be a problem for me. I am always going to be battling my hormones. I am going to struggle getting pregnant, if I even can. I am always going to have the risk of losing my other ovary and going into early menopause. I can only pray that these two disorders don’t take away more from me.

[aemondslefteyeball]

Sic Transit Gloria Mundi (7)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

[Modern!Aemond x Fem!Reader]

[Warnings: Gore, death, animal attacks, masturbation, creepin']

[Summary: They best pop some broken shot bottles between their fingers]

(Love y'all hoping I'll get two out next week have a good weekend drink water)

Word Count: 4.9k

Chapter 7

Three months after the disappearance, life was back to normal for most. Aemond found himself growing ever more restless as the summer cast a sweltering heat over King’s Landing. Despite how awful he felt, he was starting to handle it better. Helaena wasn’t the I-told-you-so type, but he still couldn’t bring himself to tell her that he continued going after the promised five sessions. He wondered if other people could see the difference in him. Earlier this week he had responded to his secretary when she asked him how his day was instead of grunting. But the torment of not knowing where you are was eating him alive. The scans in Moat Cailin were apparently going slower than expected due to issues with interference or something along those lines. Days blended into each other but that morning he had walked into his Grandfather’s office and requested a long weekend; it was the closest thing to a vacation he had taken after graduating. Otto once again shot him that empathetic glance, and nodded. “Aemond.” His hand had been resting on the doorknob when his Grandfather called out. He turned, half expecting to be lectured. “I would have done the same for your Grandmother.” Otto Hightower was not a man anybody could accuse of being emotional, but there was a deep sorrow in his voice Aemond had never been privy to. He had never really heard much about her, but supposed this was why. Aemond nodded at his Grandfather once more before leaving the room. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

After the night at the tree, you refused to go back there. It made no matter, Barba wouldn’t push you to do it. Whatever poison had seeped into you had only metastasized, it seemed. The days blurred together and your nights were riddled with serpents twisting in the burrows of the Earth. Finding little comfort in rest, you found yourself at your clearing more often. Tonight you were joined by Barba, who was looking at you excitedly before pulling out her black iPhone. You looked at her questioningly, what could have been months ago all of you agreed to limit phone usage to ten minutes a month unless absolutely necessary. 

“Is it okay if I play something?” Her voice was as soft as always, but you braced yourself for religious music. 

You smiled and nodded, “Yeah go ahead.” Giving her the ‘all go’ gesture, she turned the device on and pulled up her Spotify library. 

Barba gave you a meek look for a second, her icy eyes gauging your expression. “So, Uhm, I have a kinda unconventional music taste?” 

You smiled, figuring that you could stand to listen to music about the Old Gods as long as she was happy. “Oh, I’m fine with anything.” You shrugged, secretly hoping that she wouldn’t play any country music. 

“Are you sure?” Barba raised an eyebrow as she tilted her head towards you. “Like it’s not super common.” Suddenly curious at whatever tree music she was hiding, you just shot her two thumbs up. 

You thanked R’hllor above that it was not country music. It was not Old Gods gospel either. So far it seemed to be some folksy song that had the occasional sound effect. You nodded approvingly, folk music wasn’t your favorite genre but it was pretty good. It also made sense for Barba, though you wondered why she thought folk was so unconventional. As soon as you started to close your eyes and enjoy the singing a scream pulled you out of your thoughts and had you staring between the phone and Barba. She just offered a small smile before the tempo of the song picked up and the growl started again. “Barba what the fuck?” was the only thing that you could even think to say. She just shrugged at you as she turned the volume up and tilted it so you could hear better. You hadn’t heard a lot of metal before, but the song actually sounded pretty nice. You still couldn’t stop staring at Barba in shock though. Who would’ve thought that the quietest, sweetest girl in all her classes listened to this? “Honestly I kinda fuck with it.” You started dancing as best you could to the insanely fast tempo. What the fuck are this guitarist’s fingers made out of? “Heavy metal Barba.” 

“Oh, this is black metal actually.” She corrected, a gleam in her eyes as the two of you clumsily danced to the undanceable song. Barba tilted her head back to scream with the song, you miming guitar. She started laughing then, and the two of you continued until the song was winding down. When Barba stopped giggling, she handed the phone over to you expectantly. 

“This is your ten minutes, listen to what you want.” You moved to hand the phone back to her before she pushed it so it remained in your hand. 

“Seriously I just threw you in the deep end, pick a song.” You scrolled through her library hopefully, searching for the song you had been hoping to find. 

When you clicked on it, Barba’s face lit up in recognition. “Teenage Mary said to Uncle Dave, ‘I sold my soul, must be saved.’” Both of your voices rang through the clearing. “Gonna take a walk down to Union Square.” When the timer sounded the two of you groaned in unison. Barba shut the phone off and put it into her back pocket. 

“What do you think of Aly’s expedition?” Barba sat on the log, you following on the one across the fire from her. 

“It’s dangerous.” You sighed, dangerous didn’t really even begin to cover it. The only mercy at your disposal was the heat. “Sara seems pretty on board with the idea. Floris too. Sabitha won’t let Aly go without her…” You paused for a moment, glancing into the fire. “I think I want to go.” 

Barba stared at you hard for a second before pulling her lips into a hard line. “The Cessna is too dangerous, but this is fine?” 

“There’s safety in numbers, and we know our feet work. Can’t say the same for the ‘ol shitbird.” You weren’t sure if you were ready to tell her about your dream the night prior. Ivestragī se sȳndror mazilībagon ao dāez. A crimson river swept through the valley, white driftwood caught in pink rapids. Se riñar, ñuha riña. A cloud of red smoke was the last thing you remembered before Baela shook you awake that morning. Barba would no doubt tell you how the terror you felt while sleeping was a gift. She snapped you out of your thoughts with a dry laugh. 

“Fine. But if it doesn’t work I’m taking the plane south.” 

“I understand.” 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aemond had bid entirely too much money on the pink monstrosity that sat before him. Regardless, you couldn’t come home to a torn duvet cover without having immediate questions. He inhaled again before he stepped into the bedroom. Vhagar thankfully wasn’t napping in her usual spot, and taking that as a sign Aemond tossed the new one on the bed as best he could. He could just have the maid straighten it later. His task in the room was completed, but he couldn’t wrench himself away from the closest substitute he had to you. He walked across to the other side of the room, looking at your desk. A few textbooks were stacked off to the right, and Aemond flipped through them before moving into an iPad, stapler, and tape. He opened the top drawer, rummaging through it to find basic office supplies. Following that he moved on to the bottom drawer. This too yielded nothing. A few folders were neatly labeled with subjects and an unmarked manila envelope. He flipped through the folders and didn’t find anything of interest. He undid the string on the envelope next, pulling out a few pieces of sketch paper. Aemond lightly brushed his fingertip across the drawing’s lower lip, a rising hunger growing in him. The next one was decidedly more risque. You were playing the piano but with a robe draped around you. Draped was a loose word for it, as the robe seemed to be a formality. Plum silk looked as if it had been poured around your hips, your naked back exposed to him. Aemond took in a sharp breath as he dragged his eye over the soft curve of your waist. From the angle you had been drawn at, he could see the curve of your breast, infuriatingly too little of it however. His eye lingered on the image for a second longer before he took in the next one with a widened eye. Aemond felt a predatory grin slip across his face as a burning jealousy took hold of him.

The paper was promptly set down on the desk before the blonde reached to undo his belt, cock painfully throbbing against his slacks. Upon being freed, it slapped against his buttoned shirt and he let out a groan. Aemond spread the precum down onto the rest of his length, holding a breath in before releasing it with a soft moan as he stroked down to the base. His eye locked down intently on the drawing of you, back arched and face twisted in pleasure while presumably, Emerson was bringing you to your peak. His pace grew more fervent, angrier at the thought of it. You looked blissful, but he knew he could break you down to the point of deliriousness. Aemond would find you when you were playing piano, and you would be as oblivious to his presence as always. He decided he would stand behind you then as he pumped his cock with one hand now, eye tightly shut. He would brush your hair to one side, letting his breath draw goosebumps from you. He would insist you keep playing, while one hand tossed that little skirt aside and snaked into your panties. If you stopped, so would he. The thought drove him wild, and he was bound to escalate it. His breath came out in pants, pace quickening. Aemond would kneel between your legs next, spreading one while taking care to leave the other so your foot could still rest on the pedal. From there he would plant gentle kisses along the tops of your thighs, wondering what your moans would sound like. Finally, he would tear off your panties, relishing in either your submission or annoyance. Aemond knew you would be so good for him after he dragged his tongue up your slit, swirling his tongue around your bud before pressing on it hard enough to make you gasp. His tongue lowered to the hole, pushing his tongue into it while pressing his aquiline nose on your clit. If you behaved he would reward you greatly, though truth be told either path would end in the same result. You would still end up spread on the piano, your skirt tossed up around your hips as he relished the sweet moan on your lips when he finally entered you. When you met his gaze he would start rolling his hips into you. He wondered if you would buck your hips as you approach your peak. He would be unrelenting. Unyielding. He would move his thumb to assault your bud until you started to shake. Aemond needed to feel you clench around him, head tossed back in abandon as you unraveled on his cock. The pace at which he stroked himself increased as he gritted his teeth. Aemond was a jealous man, and he wouldn’t stop until you were unable to remember your own name, let alone your ex’s. A primal groan was released from Aemond’s lips as he finally came, but it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough until you were looking him dead in the eye when he came in you. Aemond reached out a hand to lean against the desk, catching his breath before he put his cock away. 

Fuck.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Why didn’t you tell them about your dream?” 

You paused for a moment, wondering if it was a rhetorical question. You continued to examine the charred body of the deer with a detached eye. When you met Barba’s icy blue eyes you sighed. “Aly is a brick wall with hair.” Barba leaned back on her heels, nodding for a second. Your gaze flickered back to the stag, curiosity took hold of you. Reaching down, you wrenched a vertebra out of the corpse, holding it up to the light for a moment like a gemstone. “This bone didn’t burn at all.” You examined it for a moment before smiling at Barba and getting up. 

You met Sabitha, Aly, Nettles, and Myrielle at the clearing in front of the cabin. Shooting Aly a small smile, you tugged at the straps of your backpack. “When do we leave?” 

Aly smiled back at you “In an hour.” 

You nodded, taking a knee and unzipping your rucksack, pulling the bone out of it. You had fashioned a piece of twine through it, and approached Sabitha while she was putting her water bottle in her bag. “This is kinda weird, but will you take this?” 

Sab’s eyebrows knit together, running her fingertips across the bone before she looked back up at you. “Sure, but why am I going to be wearing a vertebra on my neck?” 

“Just do it, please. I think it’ll keep you safe.” 

“Like a lucky rabbit's foot?” 

“I had a dream last night.” You weren’t sure why you couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of your mouth. Thankfully Sabitha smiled at you, gesturing at you to continue. “There was, I don’t know. Red smoke and a river of blood. Just please keep it on you, okay?” 

“Yeah, sure. Thanks Y/N.” She pulled you in for a quick hug before you two turned back to the group. 

The group was exchanging hugs, hope on their faces as they saw you guys off. Yelling suddenly rang out as Rhaena bustled out of the cabin. “Wait! Wait for me. I’m coming.” Rhaena panted before she looked at Ser Criston with doe eyes. “Criston, I mean Ser Cole. Please don’t try to talk me out of this, okay?” Her eyes were pleading, Cole looked as if he were a shell of a man. “I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I just feel like my friends really need me.” Baela’s lips pulled into a tight line across her face and you sucked your breath in through your teeth as quietly as possible. 

“Oh, wow. Well, that’s uh…” Ser Criston looked away for a second, his face suddenly twisted in false disappointment. “You know what? That’s really brave of you, Rhaena.” They both giggled for a moment before he met her gaze again. “I’ll do the best I can without you.” 

“I’ll come back for you, I promise.” Baela physically cringed, and you shrugged at her. She’s your sister.

“Okay.” Rhaena went in for a hug immediately after, and Criston’s mask dropped. He stared at all of you with a long-suffering look. He tentatively patted her on the back, his face scrunched as he did so. Everybody else in the group tried to distract themselves as Rhaena leaned in for a moment longer, sighing dreamily. 

Last hugs were exchanged as the group of you set off into the brush. The mood was cheerful, and the breeze was a relief. You hummed quietly to yourself as you took in your surroundings. Marguerita Passion had to get her fix. She wasn’t well, she was getting sick. Went to sell her soul, she wasn’t high. Didn’t know, thinks she could buy. Dappled sunlight shone through the leaves, and Nettles joked about girl scouts. In the afternoon you found yourself actually starting to bond with Rhaena. She still seemed a little off, but she was interesting. The group of you hung back a little while Aly and Sabitha picked up their pace. Eventually, Aly’s gaze turned back to you, before she turned and gave Sabitha a look. Subtle. You didn’t hear the conversation, but Aly looked grave. Not that anything was new, really. When darkness fell camp was quickly established. “So get this.” Sabitha was animated as she spoke, her face lighting up. “After Bill Pullman falls in love with Sandra, his fucking brother wakes up! It’s a whole ass mess. I mean, this dude actually thinks that Sandy is his fiancee.” She gestured wildly, locking eye contact with everybody. “So just…” Howling rang out in the distance, and all of you froze. You looked in the direction it came from and swallowed. Your heels dug into the dirt. 

Aly rocked back for a moment, looking at the fire. “We’ll be fine. Wolves are scared of humans. Besides, it doesn’t sound like they’re very close.” The nagging feeling still didn’t sit right with you, and you stared at Sabitha for a second, who was rubbing the vertebra. “We can take turns keeping watch, just to be extra safe but I really don’t think we have anything to worry about.” 

“You know who does need to worry?” Sabitha wiggled her eyebrows. “Our girl, Sandy. Because she does not know this man and he’s never seen her before he’s like, ‘Who is this girl?’ And his doctor is like, ‘Well, you must have amnesia because you don’t remember your wife-to-be.” As Sabitha rambled on, the group relaxed. Eventually, your eyes grew heavy, and you last remembered Sabitha moaning about how unfair it is that Natasha Lyonne is straight.

Morning found the group anxious, but ready to carry on. Birds sang and insects chirped as you continued. Later in the morning, Aly heard the sound of rushing water, and the group of you rushed to it excitedly, undoing the lids on your bottles. To your horror, the water was a deep, muddy red. “I don’t think we should drink it,” Rhaena announced, letting the handful of water she had cupped drain back into the river. 

“No shit.” Myrielle sniped. “It smells weird.” The scent of rust hung heavily in the air, with no signs of life in the stream.

“Y/N, what did you tell Sab about your dream?” Your arms crossed over your chest as you took a step back, gaze flitting away. “A river of blood?” Nettles continued. Your eyes were locked onto the water. “And a cloud of smoke.” 

Aly scoffed after Myri had finished, her eyes rolling. “Yeah, and last night I dreamed I went water-skiing with Jaenara Belaerys, so.” Rolling your eyes and shaking your head, you found your friendship with Aly growing ever-thinner. It was okay if she didn’t believe in things, but you were getting sick of her constantly shitting on everybody else. She was out eating dirt last night but you were crazy for what happened at the seance. 

“Mineral deposits can change the color of the water,” Rhaena spoke out. “Like iron, maybe?” 

Sabitha nodded, looking at it again. Aly smiled at her. “I’m sure that’s what it is then. Come on, this has been a fun pit stop but we need to keep moving.” She turned on her heels, clodding away. 

“Um, guys.” Myrielle held the compass up. The dial was spinning all over, never landing in one spot. 

Sabitha stared at it for a second before looking away. “The iron in the water could be messing with it. Especially this much of it. It’ll probably work again when we’re away from the water.” Her tone was hesitant as Sabitha gripped the vertebra that hung from her neck. 

“Seriously?” Aly shot the group a hard stare. 

“I don’t know, maybe we should think about going back?” Myri looked at Nettles hesitantly.

“We just need to get away from here.” Aly grabbed one strap and shifted her weight to her left leg. 

“Wait, let's think about this.” Sabitha blurted out. 

Aly stepped forward, her gaze flat. “Think about what?” 

“I don’t know, this stream? It is a pretty big coincidence that Y/N dreamed about it… we heard wolves last night…” You decided to stay out of it, suddenly regretting your admission to Sabitha. All you wanted to do was try to keep her safe, not start infighting.

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” 

“I’m just saying tha-” 

“What? What are you saying? That the fucking woods are speaking through Y/N? That they don’t want us to leave? Do you know how insane that sounds? The woods don’t give a shit and all this nonsense.” She gestured towards you suddenly as you met her gaze, your nerves being grated ever thinner. “And dreams and omens and whatever the fuck.” Aly gestured to the bone on Sabitha’s neck. “That is. We can survive without a compass. We’ll use the sun to travel south and we can place cairn stones or something under trees. There is a solution for everything.” Aly was going to make an amazing engineer. Absolute disregard for human feelings and a stubborn resolve to fix anything. “An explanation for everything. Now, that said, nobody forced you to come with me. Anybody that wants to go back, by all means.” She spat. “But I’m losing daylight.” You shared wary looks with each other before you looked at the river one last time. Doc Martens rustled leaves as you followed Aly. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

He swore he wouldn’t do this again. Aemond cursed Emerson, but he knew that was a deflection and cursed himself afterward. Once he regained full control of himself he put the sketches back into the manila envelope and placed it back in the desk. He let out an audible sigh at the empty room, his gaze landing on the bed again. Some giant moth… thing of yours stared back at him from atop the bed where he had haphazardly thrown it after putting the new duvet on. Closing the bottom drawer to the desk Aemond walked back to the closet door. Pushing it further open, he took a deep breath before rummaging through the hamper once more. He would have the maid wash your clothes, but not all of them. And after three months in the wilderness, you wouldn’t miss a few pairs of panties. This was a turning point, he promised himself. What had been done was already in motion, but he wouldn’t deny it to himself any longer. He was attracted to you and missed your presence in the house. Aemond would talk about it with Dr. Greenwood and make it right. The expiration date on your marriage was a little under a year and a half away, but maybe until then the two of you could come to an understanding with each other. Besides, it wasn’t like Emerson would be here for you when you returned. After Taenys had morphed from emotional support to a vine growing on Emerson she attended fewer briefings before she had stopped coming altogether the past month. The last he had checked, she made her relationship with her public on social media. You deserved better, but in the meantime, he could fuck you hard enough that you would forget about her. He made one last move to the drawer of your nightstand, opening it before grabbing one more item and making his way out of the room. He spent the rest of the day alone. Helaena was at some summer camp with the twins, and the solitude had been weighing heavily on him. He did ask the maid to do your laundry, and he was grateful that she wouldn’t ask questions about the stains on it. Every day felt like a repeat. He was the first person who would be contacted when you were found, but he couldn’t help the compulsion to continue checking Twitter for continued updates. Aemond had always prided himself on his restraint but found that his need for you was becoming an addiction. He reminded himself that he would sort it out with Dr. Greenwood, not that she needed to know everything. Aemond would fix it as he had done his entire life, and things would be better when you returned. At some point he locked himself into his office, diving back into his work for a few hours respite from the storm in his head. When his eyes grew too bleary to continue, he returned to his room. Every step of his routine was just another meaningless thing he did to occupy his time. When he finally finished, he stood at the edge of his king-sized bed observing his bounty. Three pairs of panties, and the journal that had been almost entirely filled. He needed to get to know you if he was going to be of any use when you returned, after all. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You fluffed the blanket before placing it on the ground. Your feet ached from all the walking on shitty terrain, with your mind weighed down by exhaustion. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but we’re one step closer to home. I promise this will all be over soon.” You shook your head as Aly spoke, just wanting to sleep and get fucking help. 

Silence hung in the air for a brief second. “We don’t need another speech, Alysanne. We need to sleep.” Sabitha’s face hardened as she glanced back into the fire. “I’ll take first watch tonight.” 

Aly shook her head, sitting by the tree. “Let me do it. You should all rest. Aly leaned against the trunk of the tree, and your eyes grew bleary as the flickering of the fire faded from your vision. 

Silver hair flashed through the dense brush. You ducked under vines as you followed after the man. The silver hair evoked some feeling of familiarity but you couldn’t quite place it. Jungle grew over pillars of stone, with the man flickering between them. The further he walked, the more intricate the stone became. The jungle seemed to either respect or fear it, as the plant line abruptly ended after you stepped into a clearing. Your boots padded over black cobblestone as you pursued the man, pace quickening. “Wait!” You ran after him, but he always seemed to elude you. He was only walking, but with a strange sort of glide to it. The man finally entered an ominous building. You stopped to stare at it for a second before taking a deep breath and entering. To your surprise– and horror– the man was waiting for you inside. He stood casually across the room, clad in strange, sunset-colored robes. Long silver hair cascaded down part of his ruined face. Flesh melted and sloughed off. The closer you looked at the man, the less human he started to appear. Ēdi naejot gaomagon ziry syt se dārion. His voice was half-gurgled, and you stepped back suddenly. You picked up maybe three words of what he said, but what you did know didn’t sound great. Then it dawned on you. That voice. His eyes were swollen sickeningly far from the socket, and you could see his jaw hanging loose where the sinew melted away. Charred bone crept into a Cheshire grin as the demeanor of the man changed. Kessa sagon. Se riñar emagon vēttan ziry sīr. The melted man continued forward with a predatory grin. Weeping, blackened skin hung off his body like a glove, slowly dripping down his body. You stepped too far back and stumbled back onto the stone. The man was upon you in an instant, doughy fingers digging in as he whispered in Valyrian. You were unsure of exactly what he was doing, but fingers wrenched into your right thigh, muscles tensing as you cried out. His swollen eyes opened briefly, purple and blazing. Suddenly the whispers turned to growls before his eyes closed one last time. Īlē ivestretan

You woke up to the shaking of the wolf’s head. Sabitha yelled as she was pulled away from your side. A scream wrenched from your lips as the canine bit into your leg. You panicked suddenly, bringing your boot to kick at its head before angling your foot so the steel toe collided with the wolf’s temple. It let out a pained whimper and you didn’t give it a moment to recover. You were on it in a second with a rock you had grabbed and promptly bashed it into the creature's head. Grunts of exertion left you as you slammed the rock back into the ruined mess of skull and brains, unable to see from the tears blurring your vision. A hand was suddenly placed on your shoulder, and you choked out a sob as Nettles pulled you back from atop the body. A buzzing sounded in your ears, and your vision started to blur. Your thigh looked like ground beef when you could see it clearly, and Nettles moved to wrap a makeshift tourniquet around it. When it was done, she helped lift you to stand. Left arm wrapped around Nettles’s shoulder, the pair of you walked towards where the rest of the group was gathered. Your gait grew unsteadier, and you were unprepared for the sight of Sabitha on the ground. The lower right half of her face had been torn apart by the wolves, her teeth visible through the holes in her cheeks. Aly kneeled beside her, wailing while holding the vertebra. Streams of blood oozed from Sabitha’s face as you collapsed against Nettles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sabitha :(

Black Metal Barba’s Jam

Taglist: @chainsawsangel

[bh-writingdump]

Zeek's Freaks

[1st draft]

Coven Origin

Tonight, Ezekiel has trouble settling. First rounds of bans on kids from attending school. More companies are creating magic suppressants, especially with monster fighting back. Witches are caught in the middle (active or not).  

Couple of kids who were raised among folks that allow magic are playing with some reanimated wooden toys in the yard. An old spell a grandparent probably made.

None of the magic no adays amounts more than fireworks, shifting water, shaking earth and guts of air. one kid at the party had become remarkably talented at long distant wet wellies before being put to bed.

So much lost.

Idly, you roll a seed in your hand, watching the bean expand  into a seedling, then back into it’s shell.

“zeek! why don’t you c’mon in— did Marley leave her kids again? I swear she’ll--” Parlov looks about ready to say more when he laughs at your vein attempts to unravel the bean shot that had crawled up your arm and flowered several times.  “allow me.” He takes off his glove, touching the vine briefly. Like some hokey magic trick, it shivels up and turns dust under his fingers. “what’s my reward?”

“My undying gratitude.” Ezekiel replies deadpan which further amuses the older gay man who wraps an arm around you.

He was the last friendly face you saw for the next two and a half years.

hospital

It was an accident. There was a fire, a misplaced can, some at the party thought it was an explosion – Ezekiel learned this years later.

At the time, Ezekiel came in to eat with the gaggle of witches only for someone to scream then waking up in the hospital, chained to the hospital bed. Doctors and nurses talked above them like they didn’t exist.

Once they were better, they tried to use their magic on a houseplant. Nothing happened. It wasn’t until the magic drip was brought it that they felt bits of their magic came back and were alive again. The doctors and nurses spoke like it’s a shame that you were among a population that couldn’t “live” without it. Never mind that you didn’t ask for anyone to remove it. The scrapenel was no where near your second heart but they were sure as hell going to remove the “undesirable” organ.

Afterall, it wasn’t Ezekiel paying the bill.

Being a fight risk, Ezekiel wasn’t allowed a phone. It wasn’t until much later that Ezekiel found out how much their community had been searching for them. A missing person’s was filed but nothing happened. The world would’ve rather let them slip between the cracks.

New Job

Normally, Ezekiel would be owing the hospital/government for the bill and violation of zir body but instead it was considered a kindness that Dr Drew purchased the debt.

Dr Drew’s lawyer made an agreement for Ezekiel to work off the debt in exchange for room, board and any additional medical procedures. Due to being considered a ward, Ezekiel could only run from the procedures for so long. They didn’t help, in fact, they made Ezekiel perpetually tired and eventually Ezekiel found ways to pretend taking the pills.

After a while, Dr Drew stopped caring. Ezekiel couldn’t work off the debt while being bed bound so put Ezekiel to work. Frequent bouts of dizziness and several collapses at work meant potentially more doctor visits.

Dr Drew instead assigned Ezekiel to other work after Ezekiel couldn’t walk for several months and it was clear that Ezekiel wasn’t faking the symptoms.

That’s how Ezekiel was put with classified projects. While Dr Drew didn’t trust Ezekiel, neither would anyone believe the word of a crazy witch.

.

.

.

[Zeek's Freaks pg1]

[theremina]

I fully expect to get shouted at for saying this. I still think it’s worth saying. ❤️‍🩹

The amount of reasonably well-off white people I’ve observed losing their entire shit over crappy AI theft these past couple months is… well, it’s completely understandable, of course.

But let’s unpack the fervor pragmatically.

As a classically trained full-time professional musician who has been honing their own craft since early childhood, and as someone who is used to being taken for granted, undervalued, even exploited, by folks who literally have no idea how much work and expense goes into doing what I do, I keenly relate to frustrations concerning algorithmic AI theft.

That being said, never have I ever observed a single one of the most reactive, aggressively angry white professional artmaking chums lashing out blindly over this problem come anywhere close to the same level of agitation regarding far more brutal atrocities: systemic racism/sexism/transphobia/homophobia, the climate crisis, Roe being overturned, anti-science / antivax rhetoric, etc. Yanno, shit that’s literally, directly killing people and the planet.

Some of the same dudes screaming “unfriend me if you’re going to post that garbage, and btw FUCK YOU” at the world right now are the same men who’ve opined in the past that I shouldn’t “get so worked up” over various systemically violent, directly life-threatening issues faced by millions, even billions of us.

Listen, I’m not saying artists don’t deserve to be concerned or upset. I don’t use any art generating AI myself, in large part bc I’ve seen how much needless pain and stress it’s causing a lot of my loved ones. For me, personally, it’s not remotely worth it.

That said, a lot of the same white, predominantly male artists we’re all watching yell at Cloud right now use Spotify, right? No judgement. I do, too! And a lot of you enjoy music with synths or samples that reproduce piano or string or drum or horn or choral vocal sounds? And you’ve probably watched a bootlegged television show or two in your day, yeah? Or resorted to 12 foot dot io?

Meanwhile, you’re out here literally damning random non-artists to hell for making corny-ass AI selfies? That’s the hill you’ve decided you wanna die on? Okay…

OR! Or, hear me out, what if you allowed your personal frustration over this issue to radicalize you less selectively? Mebbe? Could ya try showing up with a fraction of this passion to support reparations for Black Americans, or the safe and legal reproductive rights for half the population, or combating climate crisis, or disability rights, or universal income, orororrr, etc?

Look, I dunno. We live in an abattoir. Times are only getting tougher. Maybe before you decide to have another Totally Normal One that involves howling directly in the faces of disabled and low-income folks who aren’t in the fine arts or commercial arts industry and probably can’t afford a boardwalk caricature right now, let alone a $1K commission for you, you could try hitting the pause button, take several deep breaths and ask yourself: “am I picking healthy battles?”

(This is the exact same advice I try to give myself every single time I get worked up about something that isn’t literally life-threatening. I do not always succeed, of course. My shit stinks, too!)

Butt. Maybe next time you observe a friend getting excited prompting images for their own personal pleasure by using AI, consider restraining yourself from calling them a “lazy thieving scumbag”? Remember, not everyone can afford decades of training and school. How is your Facebook buddy who’s happily making endless Beksinski/Moebius/Ryden-derivative computer doodles for their own personal satisfaction managing to trigger your biggest, scariest threat response?

There gotta be some middleground between “woo this AI fad is fun and harmless” and “my barista friend sharing Meitu-lookin cybercosmonaut selfies on IG is stealing food directly out of my family’s mouth” worth exploring.

Sincerely, I get why folks are upset. But maybe don’t bring a nuke to a knife fight.

I promise you, this is a lesson I have personally learned the hard way. Maybe it doesn’t have to be so hard for you? Or —and this is my main concern, tbh— so hard on people who don’t deserve to be your punching bag.

I dunno. I’m just a bit shocked at how emotional some of you are able to get about this specific issue when your chosen line of work is largely run by rapists and racists and robber barrons. (Oh my!)

[th3-0bjectivist]

     Folks, I’m back, and I’m bringing you more music because it’s my blog, and on my blog the music party don’t quit until I die, or until I’m finally permanently incarcerated by the law for online lewdness. This entire month (mid-March into mid-April 2023) I’m dedicating to Lady-Vocalist-Hotties-Who-Rock... but aren’t exactly Hollywood-caliber famous. First up is Collide, and now that I’m divorced, I don’t mind telling everyone that I’ve had a crush on lead singer kaRIN for over a decade and a half. Her voice, when not drenched in obnoxious autotune, is the sexiest thing since sliced bread. Instead of yelling or screaming, this lady lead vocalist gets downright sultry; very closely approaching the microphone and delivering a breathy, contemplative, and skilled lyrical performance that makes me wanna get on my knees and beg for a repeat live performance… preferably at her very own bedside. Folks, I’ve been listening to this group for years and I can tell you for a fact that not only are their albums unfairly undervalued, Collide’s entire catalog is about as popular as the nerdy dipshit in class with taped-together glasses who constantly smells like pee. This L.A.-based group has pounded out ten quality studio albums since the mid-90’s, each of them sounding slightly tonally different from one another. And because they aren’t as radio-friendly as say, Linkin Park or Korn, you’ll probably only hear them randomly on the internet these days. But when it comes to electronic rock, I’ll take ten trip-hoppy, darkwave-y Collide sandwiches over ANYTHING you’ll get served on modern mainstream radio. If you bother digging a little deeper into the mythos of this band, you’ll discover that this musical duo is all about combining musical styles, as well as masculine and feminine energies to create a sound that is both positive and negative. It’s hard-rocking, and soft-spoken, it’s cerebral and subconscious. This is Tongue Tied & Twisted from the very excellent 2008 album Two Headed Monster. And if that preface is still not enough to convince you to smash play, here’s a picture of young kaRIN to tempt your palette. 

     Oh, my dear, sweet kaRIN… your panting voice has been the primary source of my nocturnal emissions most pleasant dreams for over a decade now. Did I mention I’m single now? We’re about the same age, we could hit it off. Hit me up on plentyoffish.com. Oh, there’s also a guy in the group nicknamed Statik. He does the instrumentals; she does the lyrics/vocals. Image source: https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/karin-from-collide--72409506479103536/