#the worst kind of door to door sales man

[ramlightly]

For this exclusive illustration on the patreon, Dandelion does some heavy touching with Basil, presumably because he's bored and Basil hasn't been giving him the proper attention.

You can see this and over 60+ exclusive illustrations on my patreon now! Including the sketches, wips, and some short stories! Plus, now, on the $7 tier, you can vote on a monthly poll for the next illustration!

[fingertipsmp3]

I don’t know what it is but the sound of someone rattling my letterbox is the MOST infuriating noise in the world. Like, I already wasn’t going to answer my door to you, but now I’m really not going to answer my door to you

[pricegouge]

hi hello just wanted to tell you that the wellies story with gaz and price is such a delight, everything about it is *chef's kiss*

I think Price would keep the hat, though, and wear it to the bar where Reader is having her date/make up date. Because then she HAS to storm up to Price and demand it back??? HOURS of handcrafting, Gaz unhelpfully being like "the color suits him :)" Price not-so-subtly delighted at ALL of this (also he does kind of like the hat. Maybe he can convince you to make him one in a different color?)

Gaz asks you to point out your date (someone who immediately clocks as ick. Like a stock broker finance bro type?) and Gaz immediately vetoes that. That guy isn't your date anymore. He and Price are! Now, about this camera they owe you....

Price in a knit fuchsia cap got me fuckin' good. Sorry this took so long! Even more sorry I'm posting unedited, but if I look at this any longer I'll blow up so here we go

(follow up to this)

The worst part is, once you see him in it, shining like a neon sign from clear across the bar, you understand completely why they'd had to unceremoniously rip it off your head that day. Even here, surrounded as he is by the general visual noise of the city and patrons who are by no means dressed to blend in, the man sticks out like a sore thumb. (Made no better for the fact that he still stands head and shoulders above all those around him, of course, but that's beside the point.) You can only imagine how garishly you'd stood out among the stretch of that green meadow, how much you'd jeopardized not only their mission but their very lives by simply being there.

Of course, that knowledge does nothing to soothe the anger that rises within you when you see the men responsible for ruining your last (better) dating prospect waltz in on your current one as if their only new objective is to ruin your night again while wearing the handmade hat you're now realizing they'd stolen from you. (You'd thought you'd misplaced it on the bus last week. One moment it was there, the next gone. Now you wonder how you could have missed either of them sitting aboard public transportation, or how long they'd been following you to now conveniently show up in at least two of the same places you were.)

You stare daggers at the two of them. John ignores you, pink cap bobbing through the crowd as he makes his way to the bar. Kyle posts up at a booth and smirks at you openly, unabashedly. He's impossibly more attractive outside of the grease paint and twig mass. You ignore the delightful flip your belly does when he clocks the way you take in the breadth of him, how he tests the seams of his button down, and his smirk turns to the kind of smile that should require a legal registry.

"What are you looking at?"

You startle a bit when a big head floats into your field of vision, Jeremiah's frown completely obscuring the much better view you'd just been staring down. He swivels to look behind himself, head rotating like an automatic, unmanned security camera. Observing, but not seeing anything. 

As far as prospects had gone, Jeremiah had been one of the least favorite matches you'd made on your little dating app; but after the failure from a few weeks past you'd been getting desperate, and his nice hair combined with his clever sales pitch tongue had eventually wooed you after enough messaging. Unfortunately, thirty seconds after meeting him in person you'd realized your initial instinct had indeed been right when he'd tried negging your outfit in the same breath he'd used to greet you at the door. He hadn't even chosen a good place to meet. With the way he dressed and spoke, you'd almost been looking forward to the novelty of some swanky bar uptown, but the pub he'd given you the name of was barely better than a hole in the wall. A dying fern stood in the corner, its only source of sustenance the light up dart board on its right, and the empty mugs surrounding it, the tacky puddle in its water pan suggesting it was a popular place to pour one's dregs out into. The sticky table felt like a fly trap, suggesting either years of buildup which had grown resistant to bleach, or a general incompetence on management's part as to how proper cleaning worked. You've no idea why you'd even stayed. Perhaps just a desire to stay out of the house. Part of you knows it's actually a desire to get laid so strong you're willing to overlook his shortcomings so long as you can clamp a hand over his mouth later and ride him until you're satisfied, but you don't want to look too closely at that part of you.

"Apologies. There's a man over there I recognize."

"Oh? Should I be worried?" His expression is genial enough when he asks, but his eyes keep something slightly colder at bay. Annoyance, perhaps. Not jealousy, you don't think. Not yet, at least. Probably hasn't actually clocked Kyle yet.

You should soothe him, you know. Coo reassurances, stutter through excuses and make up lies about just knowing them from your uni days or something. But then you remember Kyle's clever tongue, his blatant flirting. You remember John's heavy hands on you and the way they'd joked about keeping you all night. You're annoyed with them, more so when you remember how they'd left you high and dry after handing you off to the wolves back at base to tear into and question. But they're here now, have been for days, potentially, you're reminded when John ducks his head back into the booth, the subtle streaks of tinsel in the yarn you'd used glowing under the pendant light. He's got three drinks with him, sends you a casual wink when he spots you staring.

"Yes."

Jeremiah sputters. "Sorry?"

"Yes. You should be worried," you clarify casually. "Excuse me."

The boys aren't subtle about watching you as you approach, though Gaz leans into his captain's space to whisper something in his ear which makes his mustache twitch distractedly. It takes you a minute to pick your way over to them. You don't have much of a game plan beyond demanding your hat back, and hopefully garnering some insight as to why they're following you, but that doesn't explain the thrill you feel when their eyes trail you, or the way your mouth runs dry when you realize you're going to have to talk to them this time, no convenient excuse of situational silence keeping you from putting your foot in your mouth. You tell yourself you're at least not likely to drift off under one of them this time, and then suppress a heavy swallow when you realize you don't actually want that to be true. It's why your voice isn't quite as strong as you'd hoped when you approach their table, skipping formalities and demanding to know what they're doing here.

It's like they can smell your apprehension, John content to just keep smirking at you while Kyle responds with the kind of cocky voice you would hate on anyone else, but just serves to remind you how much the tone is earned when he uses it. "Can't a captain treat his favorite sergeant to a drink after work anymore?"

It's the phrasing that catches your attention, momentarily distracting you from reaching out and ripping your hat off John's head. It's too familiar to Jeremiah's own proposition for the evening, too jarring when used in relation to military work. "You've been following me," you state bluntly, wondering if it's possible they've even bugged your phones.

"Only a lot," Kyle agrees cheekily.

"Why?"

"Had to make sure you weren't going 'round telling everyone what you'd seen, petal," John grumbles, voice just as deep and dark as you remember. It's hard to hear him over the din of the pub. You tell yourself that's why you lean into him a bit when he speaks, though you turn it into a snatching motion easily enough.

"That why you stole my hat?" 

John deflects you casually, turning your hand away somehow both deftly and gently. His grip changes once he has you under control, turning instead to guide you into the booth next to him. His arm finds the seat back behind you, but you stubbornly remain leaning forward, refusing to ease into him this time.

"Cap didn't steal it," Gaz corrects, eyes lingering on the captain's hand where he still grips your wrist. "I did."

It's hard to accept the fact that Kyle could ever escape your notice, but you suppose he's earned his position in life for a reason. "Right." You round on John, "So did you lose a bet?"

The captain chuckles. His thumb smoothes along the heel of your hand and then is gone, tipping the amber whiskey of his drink absently. "Won one, actually. Gaz here wanted to be the one to wear it."

"Would've looked better with my complexion," the other man reasons, batting his pretty eyes at you exaggeratedly. Far behind him, you spot your date sputtering indignantly to a waitress, the poor girl's face clearly disinterested. So much for your shoe-in. You refuse to acknowledge why that doesn't bother you as much as it would have even just five minutes ago.

"Yeah, well, if I only got to wear the things I wear better, I'd be walking around naked," John gripes goodnaturedly. "Isn't that right, flower?"

Kyle saves you from sputtering out an answer by sighing wistfully. "If only."

John smirks indulgently at him and you blink away, feeling like an outsider when you see the older man's hand disappear under the table, movement suggesting he's rubbing Kyle's leg. You try not to remember how it felt to have those heavy hands on you. "Can I get my hat back, please?"

"Well, at least you remembered your manners this time," John grumbles. You'd try snatching it off his head again just for the commentary, if you weren't becoming increasingly certain it would land you sprawled across his lap.

"Where you rushing off to anyway?" Kyle adds. He slides the third drink in front of John your way. "Drink with us."

You eye the fruity, fluorescent monstrosity before you skeptically. They don't seem the type to meet barely legal ladies out for a drink in a tiny place like this, but you can't imagine they'd had anyone else in mind when John had ordered whatever this was. "You expecting someone younger?"

John's low laugh makes his mustache twitch. "Heard once that a good rule of thumb if you don't know someone's drink order, is to try and match their outfit." He ducks his chin, looking you over from under his brow. In theory, it should seem more judgemental than appraising, but you still feel like he's assessing your outfit by removing it first.

Self consciously, you run your hand over the flowery blue dress you have on, distracting yourself from thinking too hard about what it meant that he'd bought you a drink. You suppose the color is a bit electric, but the way it fits more than makes up for its flashiness. Or at least, you'd thought it did. Now, seeing it paired with some stomach turning blue curaçao concoction, you feel much less certain about that. "You heard wrong. Besides, I can't stay. I'm on a date," you sniff. You probably shouldn't drink anything handed to you by men you knew were stalking you anyway.

Kyle shrugs agreeably, swapping your drink for his simple rum and coke as he asks who you're out with. You eye it warily, but spot the smudge of Kyle's own lips on the edge so you figure it's safe enough to drink, though you make a point of wiping it off, sneering at Kyle when he laughs at you. 

"Stock broker Jeremiah," you recite, trying to keep the jeer from your tone. You motion back behind yourself. "Over there." 

"Stock broker?" John repeats, voice so thick the words fall from his lips like smoke. You think you spot a smirk hidden in his chops. 

"That your type, luv?"

"Not particularly," you admit. "But he'll have to do, seeing as the last one didn't take too kindly to being stood up."

Kyle tuts, tone too amused to be sympathetic. "Didn't believe you'd been laid up?"

"Should've had him call us, flower. We could've vouched for you," John suggests. Somehow, you know introducing these two to any prospective partners would be a terrible idea.

Still, it sounds amusing.

You shrug, wishing you had a beer bottle to peer the label off of. "Jeremiah makes good money," you offer, the only thing you can really remember from Jeremiah's profile. John hums, lower than the din of the room. Kyle's face is too blank, the same strict discipline he used with his cheek glued to his rifle. Briefly, you're back under John, the din of the surrounding crowd swallowed up by your twin heartbeats. Your eyes flick between the two, take in the tight control of their expressions. It would probably fool most, but you've spent your fair share of time studying the minutiae of faces, the way muscles twitch under stimuli no matter how properly trained the model. Even dead tissue will contract when properly motivated. "He's just bought me a new camera, in fact."

Gaz scoffs. John's eyes narrow. The two exchange sidelong glances and you sip your drink. You'd believed John when he'd said he'd replace your camera, but after being split up at base he'd never located you again and no one had been very forthcoming with information as to how you could contact your new friends to collect. A week after the incident, a cheap, basic camera and a base model macro lens had appeared on your step, the packaging cold and impersonal, shipped direct from the warehouse. No new boots ever came. The camera hadn't been anywhere near as nice as the one you'd lost, but it wasn't like there was a calling card you could air your grievances to so you'd cut your losses and just thanked whoever was listening that you'd even made it out of that valley alive. Now, however, watching the men who'd promised to take care of everything have their pride bruised by some asshole in a button up too expensive to deign resting his silken elbows on the dirty table of the bar he'd decided you were fit for, the weeks of frustration almost seemed worth it. And so what if it wasn't true anyway?

"Excuse me." 

Your date's sudden appearance nearly makes you jump out of your skin, the prospect of introducing him to these men suddenly far less appealing when John rumbles, "Don't think I will."

Jeremiah sneers at him before turning to you. "I'm heading out. Don't think this -," he motions between the two of you, lets his finger swirl around the table to include the boys when the motion peters out, "- is for me. Have a good one, yeah?"

"Oh, um, okay. Sor-."

John stops you. "Don't apologize to him, petal. It's him there owes you one."

"And why would I need to apologize?" 

"Existing?" Kyle suggests.

"Wasting her time?" John tacks on. 

"Insulting my dress," you decide.

Kyle's tsk noise draws your attention. When you look, he's got those exaggeratedly huge eyes darting between you and your date. "When it fits you like that?" he clarifies, making you blush.

"Right wanker," John agrees. His voice is still playful, but the look he's leveling Jeremiah with is anything but. 

"It's - it's -. It's blue!" your date sputters, waving at you as if your offense should be obvious.

John leans close, mustache tickling your ear. "Sounds like a man who can't appreciate a good pair of obnoxiously yellow wellies."

"You threw my wellies in the creek," you counter, too amused to muster much anger.

"Bought you new ones," Kyle offers and you narrow your eyes at him because, following you or not, there's no way they could know -.

"What size?"

Kyle just grins. "On the first date?"

"On our first date," Jeremiah reminds you.

You ignore them both, rounding on John. "And you ripped off my hat!" To illustrate your point, you attempt to snatch it back again, but the captain ducks it just as easily as he did the first time.

"I'll give it back when you make me a new one."

"Wait, I stole it fair and square," Kyle counters. John doesn't dodge him as easily, the silver streaks of his dark, mussed hair catching the light just like your yarn did. He doesn't even bother trying to snatch it back, watching with fond eyes as Kyle replaces his hat with your own. He'd been right, he does wear it better.

"If I make you one too, will you give it back?"

"Fat chance," the sergeant scoffs, and with an expert toss, he saucers his own hat onto your head, grinning like a fool when you let John tug it more firmly on. 

A scoff behind you draws their attention. John glares over your shoulder again, but Kyle just waves, cheeky enough to elicit another humorless laugh. Byt the time you turn around, your date's already on his way. You're not particularly upset by it, figuring even if… whatever this is… doesn't pan out to anything, at least you'll have spent the evening in better company than originally planned.

The boys are both staring at you when you look back. You don't bother acting disappointed, though you know there's a version of this evening that sees you spitting mad, being soothed and gentled like a finicky horse with big hands and hushed tones. As appealing as it sounds, you'd rather spend your time actually talking, making up for your first meeting with them when you couldn't do much beyond gripe about your position, or whine about being bored. So instead you shrug, and the boy's smirks turn leery, and you suppress a shiver when Kyle leans across the table toward you, voice low when he asks what kind of camera 'the suit' bought you.

You panic in your response a bit, all higher end models you've had your eyes on for weeks fleeing your brain. Instead you tell them about the cheap thing you'd received in the mail and John scoffs.

"Got you something much better," he promises, pulling his phone from one of his many pockets and flicking through it. When he turns it toward you, an email confirmation tells him his package has been delivered, the details of the order showing the next model up from the very one he'd thrown in the brook. The description of the lens is cut off at the bottom, but you've no doubt you'll be happy enough when you see the pricing details. "You'll forgive the delay, of course. Man's gotta do some research, after all."

You'd even forgive the wellies continuing to go unreplaced, though in your excitement you forget to express that. "Of course. Of course! Thank you so much, John!" You're still gushing gratitudes when you slip out of the booth, turning to excuse yourself so quickly you even forget to snatch your hat back.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To go get -?" You stall, taking in their confused - even slightly miffed - expressions. "Look, if that package sits on my stoop too long, my neighbors will -."

Kyle laughs, crooks his finger at you. It's embarrassing how quickly you oblige, slipping right back into your seat just because his eyes are too warm and inviting to disappoint. 

John's voice is much closer than you remember it being before you'd stood, the low rumble in his chest a physical thing you feel against your shoulder when he leans close. "No need to worry, petal. It's back at mine. Safe as houses."

"Didn't have your address," Kyle winks. 

It's weird, the way you can laugh at jokes about being followed. You decide not to think about it too much. "Sounds more like an elaborate plot to get me back at yours."

"Well, we're unused to not getting our mark," John confesses, "had to have another shot at it."

Kyle's cheeky when he responds, his boyish grin enough to have you settling against John before you even know what you're about. "For the record, I never did take a shot the first time."

[si11yw0rm]

depraved little wolf.

pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x gn reader

blurb: you had heard of the elusive aloof pack alpha known as Ghost, but ever since your step mother sold you to his pack for a new shipment of food and weapons, you never thought your heat would bring the both of you closer. and you definitely didn't plan for how much your wolves would like each other.

tags: cream-pie & unprotected sex (wrap it up. kids are bloodsucking demonic little entities), dirty talk, brief mentions of breeding, throat holding, hair pulling, Simon growls (i warned you quite early), use of pet, baby, and love.

word count: 4k+ (no beta reading. it can be considered a mess.)

a/n: guess who is back from the dead and ready to rumble? (that's right, you little paladins. me!)

FIC BELOW CUT. MINORS DNI.

The first day of heat is always the worst. You heard from your close friend, Naima, that it got better with an alpha by your side, but you were the illegitimate child of the pack alpha, so your chances of finding a mate was next to zero.

Literally.

It was so bad that when your step mother, The Luna, had offered you up to Ghost for sale, your father had no objections. An unmated omega was a disgrace to the pack, especially when they weren't of use for the breeding stations or anything else.

It was crude, and your heart still tore in two from remembering the cold stare of your father as one of Ghost's betas started taking you away. He had looked at you like he was staring at a stranger. The same man who was your only rock at the pack that seemed to want to bring you down.

You sighed, scrubbing your face. You just had to get through the first two days. It was going to get easier after that. You had been learning it for a long time now.

Your eyes drifted to the a cup of water near the bed, and you immediately knew it had to be one of the housekeepers to place it there. Unlike your father's pack, Ghost's pack was so tight knit that it truly felt like family, and you hadn't even being here long.

The housekeepers were kind enough to show you a stocked up nest when you explained your situation, and they hadn't pried too much, for which you were grateful.

Your head was pounding and your vision was swimming, but you sat up anyways, ignoring the way the pounding in your head moved like a blanket that settled over your chest.

Fuck.

Holding a palm against your head, you shifted on the bed, swinging your legs out from under you, the movement immediately causing a burning sensation to start licking up your spine. You held your breath, crossing your legs, cursing when it spiked downwards and burst like fireworks between your legs.

You didn't need to look to know that you were already wet. You could feel it between your thighs, and every part of you was starting to get so sensitive that it was impossible to ignore.

Ignoring it, you swung your legs over the bed and the door opened, and Ghost's scent had everything in you suddenly standing at attention.

You hadn't seen him since that night at your parent's over three weeks ago, but his scent was already burnt into the fabric of your veins, as was his features.

It was almost obscene how tall he was, and how big. He filled every room he walked into, until all you had to do was pay attention and let yourself slip into the bubble he drew everyone into.

The air between the both of you was so still that you hadn't realized how much you were staring till his head tilted, those thick brows lifting and his eyes dipped to your nipples, but he averted his eyes almost just as quickly.

The door slammed shut behind him, and you would be stupid not to notice how his scent almost disappeared as he shut the door behind him. Why would he do that?

He had something in his hand, and when he stepped closer you saw what it was and you couldn't stop how deep your cheeks flushed.

It was a vibrator.

"If you need relief, you can use this. Soap told me that you looked like you would be having a hard time, and I came to prevent that. We take care of our own here."

Ghost stepped closer, almost suffocating you with his scent and you bit your lips to stop the moan from slipping out of your mouth when he placed the carton in your hands.

You processed what he said, remembering the bulky buff Omega that clearly had an Alpha's mark on his neck. Your first night had been a blur, but his warm comforting scent of hot chocolate and cinnamon remained imprinted on your mind, as did his smile.

Ghost tilted his head and the way he angled his body immediately let you know that he deliberately made sure not to touch you, and while you appreciated it because you knew it would trigger a reaction, it made your wolf whine.

Alpha.

It surprised you as much as it surprised Ghost because he suddenly went very still, and his eyes glazed over as they coasted over your head, dropping to your thighs before they came back to meet your gaze.

"I can't touch you, pet." His voice was devoid of emotion, but his eyes were anything but, and his scent of sharp sandalwood with a hint of vanilla was making your head swim and your grip on your wolf start to slip drastically, especially when you could smell the musk of sweat underneath everything.

He needed to leave. Now.

Ghost's eyes went even darker, as if he could read your thoughts off your face and he tugged on the simple mask that covered the bottom of his face, as if he didn't realize he was even doing it.

His face was so stunning your breath caught in your throat. "Ghost..."

He shook his head as he bent lower, crouching in front of you, and a moan slipped past your lips, his scent suddenly surrounding you like a blanket.

He smelt so good you could feel your mouth water, and you were dimly aware of how the last thread of your control over your wolf snap.

You opened your mouth to warn him, but what left was a growl, and Ghost's eyes shifted before widening, but before he could step back, you grabbed his collar and yanked him forward, burying your nose in his neck.

The reaction was instantaneous. Everything in you flickered to life and lit up, and nothing in the world could have stopped the whine that left your throat.

Ghost's shoulders shuddered and his hands brushed your hair, before slowing sliding down your spine. "Pet."

"Hurt me. Please. I need you." You whispered, crawling into his lap. He groaned and moved, pushing you flat on your back against the bed. You couldn't tell if it was his scent or presence that was making your wolf act so strongly in his presence, but there was an ache in your core you desperately needed him to fix.

Ghost tsked and his hand stopped beside your head and the second one grabbed your waist so hard you knew there would be bruises. "Someone's a little eager."

The smooth and yet deliciously husky baritone of his voice nearly made you mewl, and you bit on your lip as you cleared your throat, your eyes sliding across his chest.

"Please. You are my alpha, right? Alphas are supposed to give their Omegas anything they want. You are supposed to fix my ache. You can give me what I want, right? I want you. I need you." You didn't even know what you were saying, nor did you want to take time out to process it.

All you wanted was his hands on you, and you were about to move his hands between your legs when he sighed and bent down, capturing your lips with his.

If his scent was like a blanket before, it was now pouring and sliding its way through every pore in your body, making you almost drunk.

His hand slid up to cup your jaw and a satisfied shudder shook your body, causing a growl to slip through his lips and they traced over yours, his tongue sliding past your teeth to press gently against yours and to sample your mouth.

You were no longer here nor there as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down until you felt his full weight press into you. His growl set off a burning smoking tendrils to lick its way up your core and you moaned against his lips.

Like reflex, the hand on your jaw tightened and you couldn't tell how he managed to tease the edges of your desire with just his lips and tongue, and he kept exploring your reactions to every brush of his lips, lick of his tongue.

As if you were a map he wanted to memorize.

You were too far gone to try to stop the small whimpers leaving your mouth and when his teeth nipped your lower lip, you sighed into his grip, your shoulders melting.

If you had felt exposed before, under the steely unflinching gaze of his warm eyes, the feeling increased tenfold as he learned all your secrets, drawing them out of you with his kiss.

It was like he was forcing you to reveal yourself, and then he took his newfound knowledge and used it against you.

You weren't complaining, and neither was your wolf, whose presence you could feel loudly in your ears.

Ghost pulled away, ignoring your slow whimper of protest as his hands shifted, and he lifted off you, placing his knees back on the bed. The absence of his lips was causing a chasm to blow open inside you, and you reached for him, making him tsk.

"Ghost…"

"Shh, love. Trust me."

His hands slid under your hips, yanking you up until you fell against his chest and you became all too aware of how his thigh wedged itself between your legs. You could feel his eyes burning a hole through your head and you felt the subtle flex of his thighs beneath you, putting pressure on your core that made your head swim.

You grabbed his shoulders, biting into your lips hard enough to hold back the moan, and Ghost chuckled, his hand lifting to your lips as he tugged it out, his eyes burning. "I want to hear you."

Your eyes dropped to his lips, and Ghost laughed, sliding his hand down to your throat. "You want my lips back on yours, love?"

You couldn't tell if he didn't expect you to answer but when you nodded, his hands slid down to your waist and tugged.

He smirked, but he lowered himself and smiled against your lips. "As the pet wishes."

His mouth took complete ownership of yours, and despite the brutality behind it, you felt worshipped. He kissed you as if his pleasure far exceeded your own, which had to be impossible. Nobody had ever kissed you like that.

You slid your hands into his hair and pulled him closer, silently begging him to deepen the kiss further. You didn't trust yourself to speak, and you could swear your soul left your body as you felt him smile against your lips as he obliged and he sank his tongue into your mouth with a growl.

The growl lit you up from the inside out and the pressure of his thighs between your legs coupled with the way his hands cupped your throat as he kissed you had you soaring closer to the edge.

It was so close, you could taste it on your tongue.

As you parted for breath, his voice grated against your lips. “If you keep working that hot little tongue against me, I’ll have no choice but to fuck you.”

He said it so crudely and simply that your wolf moan out loud, and Ghost's hands finally dropped between your thighs, adding more pressure.

That was the thing that pushed you over, and Ghost kept kissing you as every part of you shook with the force of the orgasm.

His hands left your legs and he gently moved up off his thigh, your back landing on the bed as his hands came up to brush hair out of your face, and the smirk he gave you had your body humming.

“Would you like to come again, love?”

You were still catching your breath, and the thought sounded foreign to you. He couldn't be serious, could he?

"Again?"

One of his hands slid up your bare thigh, higher and higher until it slid under you to cup your ass. You felt him gather the backside of your underwear in his fist, and he twisted the fabric until it wrapped around his fingers once.

It made the material pulled taut, and it slid over the most sensitive part of you, making your head spin. It had to be the heat. That had to explain why everything was burning up everywhere.

He bent down to scrape his teeth against your neck, sending a thrill of sensation shuddering through your body.

"Ghost…"

“Simon.” His voice was deeper and more husky and you felt it vibrate through you.

“Si-Simon. Please.” You moaned, and you felt his lips lift up in a smile against your neck.

"Good pet." His voice was like honey, sliding through your veins and reaching places you didn't even know existed. You whimpered, grabbing his arm and then he tugged on the underwear and your mind went blank, oblivious to everything but the pleasure coursing through you.

He bit your ear again and coasted a breath against it, his voice coming out in a dangerously soft whisper. "Come for your Alpha."

Your wolf immediately obeyed, and you couldn't stop the wave crashing over you. You shook against him as your second orgasm battered its way through your system and his mouth latched onto yours, effectively swallowing the noises you were making.

When you stopped shaking, Ghost...Simon released your mouth, and this time, his panting breaths matched your own. He dropped his head back in your neck, and you knew he was scenting you.

"You smell perfect. God, I want to bury myself in it." You were a stranger to what an other person's wolf sounded like, but you knew it was his wolf speaking.

"Mine. Do you understand that, little Omega?" His voice was almost gravel now, and you snapped your eyes open and threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging on it until his mouth left your neck.

Simon raised his brows and looked at you questioningly, and his eyes were dark and heavy. It felt like someone was running their hands across your skin with fire. He looked at you like he could tell.

Your eyes dropped to his mouth which was damp from kissing you, and he appeared drugged in his arousal.

For you.

You couldn't deny that it made you feel some what powerful.

“You okay, baby?” He murmured, and he ducked his head to scrape his stubbled chin across your cleavage. He was still scenting you, but you loved it just as much as your wolf did, so you arched your back, giving him more access.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you fought the urge to tug his head lower. “I am fine. I…Aren't you going to get inside me?"

Simon's big body shuddered against you in response, and he dropped his free hand to caress the sides of your thighs, sliding them up and around to palm your ass again. He kept himself hovering with one hand beside your head, and he squeezed your ass.

“Still eager, I see. Two orgasms weren't enough for you?" Before you can respond, his lips moved against the top of your breasts and his hand lifted to palm it. "Can I ask you something, baby?”

It immediately sent your head spinning, and you tried to form words and couldn't leave your throat, because you couldn't focus on anything but the way he kept kneading your flesh.

“I…Yes.”

"How do you want me to fuck you for the first time?"

He didn't let you answer and he ignored your sharp whimper, nuzzling your neck before he kept talking. “Do you want me under you so I can watch your cute little tits bounce as you buck those hips on me? Or do you want me on top of you?"

A sharp groan left his mouth, and his grip on your chest turned painful that you could see stars burst at the edge of your vision. "You know what I would do? I would force those thighs wide and bury yourself deep in between them, baby. And you would love every second of it.”

He leaned forward to lick the curve of your ear, and his voice shifted to something more wolf and less human. “Maybe I’m behind you. Fuck, I could get in so deep that way, pet. Tell me what you want. I’ll make it happen.”

His words caused a hot and desperate yearning to pulse between your legs and you pushed up against his hips, making him laugh.

"Don't rush me, love. This exquisite body of yours needs a lot of care and attention, and I am not going to do anything less than to worship you."

His nose went back to nuzzle your neck, and he laughed as you shivered. “You came so quickly for me, baby. You have no idea what a vision you make when you come."

The way he so easily commanded your body’s response left you dizzy, and a fierce ache moved through you, spreading and honing between your legs before moving up to wrap itself around your throat.

Maybe this was how you were going to die.

Simon dipped his head and bit the flesh just beneath your ear, then licked it to soothe the sting of his teeth. “I am going to stretch you now, love."

You knew he was asking for your permission so you nodded, and he slid his teeth up and down the column of your neck, his hand dipping under you to pull your underwear down your legs.

You held your breath and your belly tightened in response, dampness and slick spreading between your legs.

His fingers came up and brushed the juncture of your thighs and you whimpered at the simple contact.

"Shhh." He whispered against your neck, teasing you with soft brushes of his fingertips against the front of you while continuing to torture your neck.

You grabbed onto his shoulders for balance, and Simon used the heel of his hand to massage your core with slow circles of his wrist. You felt your head swim and you cried out at the perfect pressure, but Simon just hummed as his fingers slid into you.

The sudden fullness made you moan and you dug your nails into his shoulders, making him growl again.

He bit your ear hard, pulling it with his teeth. It should have hurt, but instead it felt like an attack on every erogenous zone in your body.

You couldn't stop the full body shudder and Simon laughed darkly, palming you roughly once before removing his hand from between your legs.

"Let me make something clear, pet. When I finally get inside you, I’m going to fuck you until your voice is hoarse from screaming your name. And you are going to scream my name.”

Simon lifted himself and pulled his shirt over his head, and pushed away from you to move off the bed, taking off his jeans and boxers in one movement and when you saw him naked, your jaw dropped.

Until now, his sheer size and strength hadn’t fully registered, but now?

Seeing him like this had you so aware of your smaller, more delicate frame, and it occurred to you just how much control he had of the situation. You had put yourself completely at his mercy, and instead of fear, it thrilled and excited you.

His cock was huge, and you suddenly wondered how he would fit inside you. Simon must have seen the worry on your face, because he crawled over you and his mouth trailed across your heated skin to your breast, and he gently bit the underside.

He lifted his head and blew against your nipple, and the hunger in his eyes as he watched it pucker for his attention made your thighs slick with wetness.

He rewarded you by flicking his tongue against it in short little stabs until you dug your hands into his hair, whimpers and pleading leaving your throat as you demand he cease his torture and finally fuck you.

Simon complied by drawing the sensitive bud into his mouth and his hands skimmed down over your belly to cup you in his palm. You let your thighs fall open in wordless invitation and he sunk two fingers inside you.

Arching your hips to meet his fingers, a moan left your lips. It made you all the more desperate to have him inside you and you pulled yourself on your elbows to whisper in his ear. "Just fuck me, Alpha."

He grinned and slid his fingers back inside you and rotated, finding a spot you hadn’t even known existed and started stroking it with his middle finger.

Your hips came off the bed and you cried out, muscles tightening around his fingers and it didn't take a genius to know that a few more seconds of his expert touch and you would orgasm again.

But then he stopped stroking the spot just before you peaked, laughing under his breath as you let out a whine of frustration. "Not so fast, pet. You come with your dick inside you. Nothing else."

His hands slid out of you and he lifted himself up, sliding into you slowly and you immediately wrapped your legs around his waist.

He was so full and so deep that you could feel him everywhere, and you immediately felt that insistent ache start to build up within you. "You feel so good, love." He whispered, sliding in another inch further.

A whimper left your throat once he finally bottomed out, and it made him still.

"Move. You need to move, Simon." You said when he still held himself still, his breaths ghosting your forehead.

"I just felt your walls clench around me and I don't want to hurt you." His voice was strained, and his eyes were closed, the muscles of his neck tightening.

You groaned and lifted your hips, trying to urge him on. "I don't care, Simon. Just move!"

With another loud growl, his hand came up to squeeze your waist and then he spoke directly against your ear. “Are you ready to scream, baby?”

Without waiting for your answer, his hips angled upward and started pounding into you with a demanding rhythm, sliding against you exactly where you didn't even know you had needed it.

Simon's fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, squeezing, kneading it without a hint of gentleness.

And then his hand reached around to massage your swollen slit with perfect accuracy, building the pressure so quickly your mind could barely keep up with your body.

You had died and gone to heaven.

He groaned and grabbed your hips. "I am going to fill you up, love. You know that, right?"

You nodded and he started moving faster until you could swear he was fucking your brain out of your body, and the very breath from your lungs.

Your thighs began to shake as the orgasm closed in on you, and all your limbs turned into liquid. You were no longer lifting up your hips to match his thrusts, and Simon yanked your hips up to meet him, not pausing in his thrusts.

And his head came off your neck to kiss you, whispering fevered statement against your lips. “Holy Fucking Luna, this is all there is. This is everything.”

The kiss and his next thrust finally triggered your orgasm, and in turn his. His teeth bit into your shoulder with a growl as he came and you felt everything inside you melt as you felt him spill inside you.

It took a moment for you to recover, and when you eventually returned to reality, he slid his arms around you and slid out of you, reaching over the bedside to pull out napkins.

He stared at your slit, and his eyes flickered as he spoke. "Clench and unclench."

He wasn't using his alpha voice, but you obeyed immediately, feeling him leak out of you. The flush climbed up your neck and Simon smiled. "You look fucking gorgeous like this, pet. Saited and filled with my cum. Next time, I am fucking you like this until you carry my pups."

You nodded and stayed still while he cleaned you up and when he was done, he pulled you upright and back against his chest.

Softly, Simon kissed your shoulder where his teeth had been moments before and pulled you closer. He exhaled on a shaky breath and kissed your cheeks. "Sleep."

"Don't you have work?" You said, your voice already drowsy.

"I have a very needy omega to take care of. That's my work. The rest of the pack can wait. I wouldn't ask again, pet. Sleep."

You were going to argue, but he slid his hand down your spine and you felt your eyes flutter close.

(end notes)

wow, that was a lot. i was generally genuinely going to start with my kinktober list before this, but i just thought "hey, why not write ghost big dick alpha smut" and i decided to write it. i am kind of excited to get back into writing & posting again, and i am happy to have you here with me.

welcome to the ride! please be sure to hit that like button and tell me what you think! any feedback is highly appreciated.

[fredwkong]

Sneakerhead

(inspired by a prompt from the incredibly welcoming @idesofrevolution​ )

It started because of some shoes.

Joel really wanted some classic Air Jordans, the 4s, black with red accents. He’d been having some trouble dating lately, passing out of his early 20s, when girls just wanted a guy who used deodorant. In their late 20s girls wanted shit like 401(k)s and moving in together. Joel’s solution? Date younger.

To do that, he needed some new style. He’d been grabbing streetwear for a while, but the Js would be the centrepiece, what he needed to perfectly set off distressed jeans and an oversized flannel. With his slender frame and boyish looks, with some new style Joel was sure his clean lifestyle would attract plenty of younger dates.

The shoes remained elusive, however. Too expensive to buy new, impossible to thrift. Finally, a gay guy acquaintance of Joel’s mentioned Sneaker Swap, a trade/sale site. He offered to send Joel a special invite link, an unreadable look in his eyes. Apparently this link would fast track Joel’s account progress somehow, give him unique access to shoes. Some gay kink thing, probably, Joel thought.

When he got home from the bar where he and the guy had met up, Joel followed the link and downloaded the app. The app took a while to load, he noticed, but the loading spiral was pretty nice to look at, so it was fine. It was one of the Js in the middle of several swirling concentric circles with a rainbow pattern.

Finally, the app loaded, inviting Joel to make an account. He input his shoes size, blinking at the afterimage of the spiral in his vision. When the main page loaded, and sneakers started to populate across the screen, his dick jumped unexpectedly, probably a side effect of being so close to finally having his Js and getting a date.

The guy Joel finally ended up buying his Js from lived across town, so Joel drove to his house to make the trade. As soon as he pulled up, he noticed a rainbow flag in the front window. The guy had seemed pretty intelligent and straightforward while Joel negotiated, but when he opened the door the guy seemed totally out of it. He barely remembered agreeing to the trade, he tried to grope Joel’s ass, and worst of all, all he was wearing were some tight boxer briefs and his sneakers, which gave off kind of a funky smell.

The dumb guy left Joel standing next to his shoe rack while he went to go find the Jordans and their box. As he waited, a distinctive smell started to fill Joel’s nose, the rich, buttery aroma rising off of the pile of used shoes in the rack. This guy must not own any socks, Joel thought in disgust. If those Js were gonna smell this bad, he might need to look for a new pair. He started to load sneaker swap, watching the spiral turn for several seconds.

Maybe the smell wasn’t that bad, he realised, sniffing the air again. It wasn’t like he wanted his feet to smell like that, but it wasn’t so surprising for a guy to want to fill his shoes with his essence. Mark his territory. Show off his manliness.

Joel had drifted back toward the shoe rack by the time the guy came back with the shoes. He spotted the Sneaker Swap app, still loading on Joel’s phone.

“Huhu, what a great app,” the guy grunted, handing over the shoebox. “Totally changed my life, bro.”

“Uh, thanks, man,” Joel said, handing over cash for the Js and pocketing his phone. He wrinkled his nose at the smell coming off the guy’s hairy muscles. “Thanks for the shoes.”

“Totally,” the gay guy’s eyes zeroed in on the bulge in Joel’s pants. Joel hadn’t even noticed his erection. “Hey bruh, if you want to,” the guy paused and licked his lips, “trade sneakers again sometime, hit me up.”

Joel beat a hasty retreat back to his car.

As he drove home, he kept thinking about the smell of that guy’s shoes. It was almost like it was still in his head, fogging up his brain. In fact, it was getting stronger. Joel pulled over and grabbed the shoebox from his passenger seat. He hadn’t smelled it in the house, but his fancy new Js were impregnated with the smell of the guy’s feet. Joel groaned, now he would have to figure out how to clean the shoes without ruining them.

Joel kept the shoes in a box in the back of his front closet, not wanting to have to smell them while he figured out how to wash off the stench. By the time he had finished his dinner, though, a faint foot funk was permeating his kitchen like a haze. Those shoes were powerful. Joel loaded up Sneaker Swap. Maybe they had a forum that could help. At the very least, he wanted to comment on the guy’s profile so other people knew what they were getting into.

The loading spiral was so relaxing. Joel could just sit and watch it… Some time later, Joel found himself looking at the main page of the app. When had it gotten so dark? He’d been about to do something on the app. He was going to—he was going to look for more shoes, right. He was already planning more outfits with different pairs.

The next morning, Joel was leaving for work when he saw the Js he’d bought yesterday sitting out on his shoerack, their smell eye-watering at close range. Had he put them there? He must have. The smell seemed different today, more complex and deeper, there was almost an appeal to having it filling him up… Joel shook his head. He should have looked up how to clean them last night, his whole house was gonna smell if this kept up. He went to open the Sneaker Swap app, and watched the spiral load.

He was nearly late for work, he spent so long looking at shoes to buy. How was he getting so absentminded lately? He must have had a latent interest in cool shoes this whole time, he reasoned.

The pattern continued. Every time Joel passed through his entryway, he smelled the musky Jordan 4s on his shoerack. He thought about cleaning them or putting them away, and started to load up Sneaker Swap, then got distracted by looking at shoes. It was starting to affect other parts of his life, too. A girl at work commented on how spacey and airheaded Joel had been acting lately. He just shrugged, unable to think of an answer other than, “Sorry, head’s full of shoe stink.”

By the time his next paycheck came through, Joel had three different pairs on hold with local bros. He was jittery and excited all morning, then loaded up into his car for an afternoon driving around to make the trades.

It was… weird. Joel couldn’t put his finger on it, but all three of the guys he met were different than he’d expected. Maybe it was how slow and stupid their voices were, or their nudity, or the fact none of them had washed or put on deodorant. All three wore their sneakers in their houses, and all three had a pile of smelly shoes by the front door. But every time Joel tried to think about it, the smell of all the shoes seemed to overtake his mind. All three guys had such unique scents to them, Joel found himself fascinated.

On the drive home, Joel barely noticed the three pairs of shoes stinking up his car, too busy thinking about how all those shoes had smelled at the source, where the guys he’d bought his Js from kept all their dirty sneakers. In a daze, he carried the three smelly boxes into his house and absently set the three new pairs of shoes next to the first, which he still hadn’t tried on. He kept meaning to clean them, he should look up how on Sneaker Swap… The loading spiral was so captivating…

Later, Joel found himself sitting on the floor next to his shoerack, his phone open to Sneaker Swap in one hand and one of his new Js in the other. Another couple shoes were in his lap. He took in the complex, different scents of each of the guys he’d bought them from, some salty, some bitter, and one even an almost sweet scent. It was like a signature, their unique trace on the shoes, something he’d be honoured to add to now that he’d inherited the legacy from them.

The next morning, Joel sniffed himself and decided he probably didn’t have to shower this morning. He looked at the deodorant on his bathroom counter, puzzled, and then threw it in the trash. While he ate breakfast, Joel loaded up Sneaker Swap and, after watching the spiral for a while, started looking at shoes. When he got ready for work, he grabbed the first pair of Js he’d bought and shoved his socked feet into their musky interior without a second thought.

Joel had the style now, but he noticed that he was having even more trouble scoring dates now. Girls seemed put off by the manly smell that Joel was building up. He’d started going to the gym more, and showers just seemed so much less important than building up his personal brand of musk to fill in to his shoes. At one bar, a girl wrinkled her nose at him as soon as Joel came up to the bar and she fled. Meanwhile, a passing boy in some little sexy shorts paused walking past Joel, nostrils flaring. Joel watched as the guy’s little dick suddenly tented out his tiny package, and smirked when their eyes met.

He was noticing guys more and more lately. At first, it was just their shoes, like the spiral from Sneaker Swap appeared around the feet of any guy in Js. He kept wondering what it would be like to smell a guy’s feet for real, rather than just through getting his musky shoes. His collection was growing, and each time he went to get new shoes the guys he traded with got more fun. Their houses were full of such hot scents, and their hot, smelly bods looked and smelled so good. They kept pressing up against Joel as they passed him their shoes, passing on their musk to him to take care of. It was so hot.

As much as he loved the thick, musky smell permeating his house now, Joel still hadn’t gone all the way and stuck his face in one of his Js. He didn’t know if he could take the smell that close to the source. The day he brought home his tenth pair of shoes, though, Joel decided that his little collection deserved to be commemorated on his Sneaker Swap profile. He opened up the app and watched the loading spiral.

He recollected himself as he hit “post” on his new profile pic. He looked at it. His Js were neatly laid out on the shoerack, but off to the side, there he was, in the picture, his face buried in one of the 4s, the first ones he’d bought with the red accents. As likes and comments started to pour in from the guys he’d bought the shoes from, a chorus of “bruh” and “noice” and “sniff that sneak, dude” Joel realised that he was still holding the shoe over his mouth and nose.

Right in the back of his mind, Joel had an instant of fear. Was this really him? This stinky sneakerhead? He’d been different before, clean-cut and even straight! He instinctively took a deep breath, and his negative feelings vanished as all his thoughts were overcome with the salty, musky tang of the shoe, so much stronger at close range that it was a physical sensation on his tongue. Joel’s growing foot stench had blended with the buttery scent of that first dumb himbo he’d bought the shoes from.

It felt like his whole mind was being filled up with musk, slowing his thoughts down like they were moving through molasses. Everything was perfectly fine. He had his shoes, he had his musk, and his big cheesy cock. Life was pretty much perfect for a dumb sneakerhead like him.

The next morning, Joel woke up in bed, cradling one of his Js against his face like when he’d fallen asleep. He didn’t bother putting on more than some boxers and a used pair of socks, sticking his feet into a pair of sneakers as he got out of bed. A new user on Sneaker Swap wanted to buy a pair of his 4s, and after that he’d invited the guy he’d bought his first pair from to come over and check out his collection. Hopefully Joel would be able to get his mouth on that guy’s hot, smelly feet this time.

He needed to message that guy who’s given him the link to this app. Maybe he could give him a reward, Joel thought, kneading his weeping cock through his boxers.

[thelastspeecher]

Here's a little bit more in my Horse Boy Stan AU. Just after Stan turns into a horse, and how he winds up with the McGuckets.

;)

——————————————————————————————

                 Stan stomped his hooves anxiously as he waited his turn.  Jimmy Snakes had left town as soon as he found an upcoming auction to sell him at, frustrated that Stan refused to be broken.  The money would be wired to him after the sale.

                 Stan felt a shiver run down his spine.  He was going to be sold.

                 At least last week could’ve been worse.  Jimmy could have dropped me off at a place that treated me like shit.  But the stables holding the auction boarded and fed Stan, and were kind in all their interactions with him.  Except for the upsettingly thorough examinations to determine the minimum price he would be worth.  Stan lowered his head.  I just want this whole nightmare to be over.

                 The people at stable hadn’t been able to break Stan, but he was still defeated.  There wasn’t even a glimmer of hope that he could escape.

                 “Lot 17, a buckskin Irish Draught stallion,” the auctioneer announced.  The boy holding Stan’s lead brought him out of the wings and onto the stage.  There was some murmuring from the gathered crowd.  Stan felt a strange twinge of pride that made him stand at attention.  He knew from the people at the stable that he was considered a high-quality horse, despite lacking a formal pedigree.  “Wild or feral caught, no paperwork, unknown age though he is fully grown, and unbroken.”  The murmuring grew louder, then died down.  The auctioneer seemed to notice the apparent loss of interest.  “He would serve as a good workhorse.  Or, as he is intact, stud fer workhorses.  We’ll start the biddin’ at four thousand.”

                 “Four thousand!” a voice shouted.  Stan looked at the crowd, quickly zeroing in on the sole person interested in buying him.  It was a young man about his age, with dark hair and a large nose that took up most of his face.  A young man next to him, with blond hair, elbowed him and whispered something.  Stan’s potential buyer shrugged off whatever the other man said.

                 “Any other takers?” the auctioneer asked.  He sounded disappointed, though Stan wasn’t sure why.

                 I’ve never been worth four thousand bucks in my life!  No one else spoke up.

                 “Going, going, gone,” the auctioneer said.  He slammed the gavel.  “The buckskin goes to Lute McGucket.”  He raised an eyebrow.  “I assume yer father will come by with the money fer him?”

                 “Sure thing, Mr. Smith!” the man, Lute, called.  Chuckles sounded from the crowd as Stan was led backstage and into a stall to wait.

                 Thankfully, Stan didn’t have to wait long.  Within about fifteen minutes, two voices sounded, getting louder as they approached Stan’s stall.

                 “He ain’t broken, Lute.”

                 “My fam’ly’s got a way with horses, you know that.”

                 “And what’ll ya do if ya can’t break him?  Rent him out fer stud?  Without papers, no one would pay a cent!”

                 “Look, we’ll figure it out.”  The two people from before came to a stop in front of Stan.  “I can tell there’s somethin’ special ‘bout this feller,” Lute said.  His friend crossed his arms.

                 “I don’t know if yer right.”  He sighed.  “But it ain’t my business, so I’ll drop it.”  Lute’s friend began to walk away.  “I’ll see ya and this new stallion tomorrow.”

                 “Sounds good!” Lute called.  He turned to Stan.  “All right, feller, let’s get ya out of here.”  He pulled a lead out of his pocket and attached it to Stan’s halter.

                 Okay, first impression, he’s not the worst.  I guess.  Lute opened the door to Stan’s stall and led him out of the stable.  A different stallion was patiently waiting, tied to a post.  Lute smiled at Stan.

                 “This here is my usual steed, Tuesday.  He’s a gelding, but don’t worry, we won’t geld ya.”  Lute winked.

                 Uh.  I don’t think I want to know what he’s talking about.

                 “I can tell yer not the kind of stallion we would geld,” Lute continued.  “But not so’s we could stud ya.  No, it’s ‘cause yer special.”  He cocked his head.  “What’s yer name?”

                 “Stan,” Stan whinnied instinctively.  He winced.

                 Dammit, think!  Why bother telling him, he won’t understand!

                 “Stan,” Lute repeated.  Stan’s jaw dropped.  Lute grinned.  “Just like yer special, I am, too.”  He mounted his horse and tied the lead to his saddle.  “Let’s get ya home and sorted out, okay?”

                 How the hell did he know what I said?  Lute winked again.  Eh, fuck it, I don’t care.  He understood me, and that’s all that matters.  Stan eagerly followed Lute and Tuesday, for the first time since this whole mess started, feeling optimistic.

[frances-baby-houseman]

Barbra Streisand is an insane person. Here are just a few more of my favorite bits, also not in order bc I'm starting where I am and then i'll go back. There is so so so much more where this came from, do not worry that I'm spoiling anything (I am the kind of person who hates when people do this!) Anyway--

He was on the next plane to New York. When he arrived, he said, "I'm going to take you shopping." And he bought me a Fendi fur coat . . . not a fancy Fendi fur. In fact, it was rather funny looking, made of pieces of fur sewn together with actual holes in between . . . kind of like a thrift shop coat. But I loved it because it was the same henna color as my hair.

(ed: that coat was designed by Karl Lagerfeld and that line of Fendi furs was hugely influential. the more you know, babs!)

~~~

Gregory Peck was a lovely man who believed in me early on. Before I knew him, his house was for sale, and I actually went over to look at it. I opened the door to his audio closet, which was filled with LPs, and was touched to see he had all my albums. (But whoever wrote the label on the shelf misspelled my first name, so I pulled out a pen and crossed out the extra a.)

(ed: remember she has not yet met Gregory Peck before editing his LP collection.)

~~~

Now, looking back, I can hardly believe my response. How stupid! Today I would be more adventurous, but I was too insecure sexually back then, still a nice Jewish girl from Brooklyn with my mother's admonitions echoing in my head. Free love was not my style. Besides, how do you brush your teeth in the desert? Do I sleep with my makeup on?

(ed: "free love is not my style" coming from a woman who later admits she forgot she slept with Warren Beatty.)

~~~

Neither of us trusted many people, and it's interesting how a lot of the people we trusted were the same . . . Quincy Jones, Mike Medavoy, Carol Matthau. Once for a dinner at Quincy's house, Marlon showed up wearing a burgundy sweatsuit with stripes down the side. By this point he was probably 280 pounds. He told me he was eating a quart of ice cream every night. I could relate... I love ice cream too. There's nothing like a big, fresh scoop of McConnell's Brazilian Coffee, packed into a crisp cone and handed to you at their store in Santa Barbara. The intensity of the flavor, made with real coffee beans . . . the smooth rich texture . . . By the way, you can't get McConnell's ice cream at just any supermarket, and this particular flavor is even harder to find. So you can imagine all the reasons I suddenly invent to go to Santa Barbara.

(she goes on about her love of ice cream for another 3 paragraphs before getting back to Marlon Brando's depression.) (this is so far my favorite passage in the book.)

~~~

ugh one day soon I will be done with this book and it will be the worst day of my life since I finished the mike nichols book.

[paalove]

i would love a coda to new year's where the sandray makeout in the car gets interrupted by boston slinking back to his car without nick, & ray, this time with sand's blessing, leaves to take care of his friend & takes him out for some late-night commiseration ice cream. na na na 🥺

sad and lonely little boston with his rejected present :(

on ao3 here

...

The rooftop is theirs, kissing in Ray’s car and the starlight, and he’s leaning into Sand and feeling both their smiles and thinking maybe the world is theirs too, when they hear a door open somewhere behind them and pull apart.

Ray turns and sees Boston putting something into the back of his car.

Nick isn’t with him.

He looks drooped and lost – like he had earlier, when Mew had dug at him, and like he hadn’t when Nick had arrived.

He turns in his seat to watch as Boston closes that back door, a little way across the roof.

“Leaving me all alone in your car again? Always running off for a friend in distress,” Sand says, pulling Ray’s attention back to him and his fond smile.

Ray blinks and remembers a time after a different party, kissing in this car, and he says, “I’m not doing-“

“-Go. I’ll take the car back.”

He’s still caught in the space between the two parties, only a few months and everything in the world has changed, as he feels a swift and not-unexpected surge of trembling love towards Sand, who hasn’t changed at all except in how he’s smiling, this time.

Sand strokes his jaw with a barely-there, gentle caress, leans in once to brush his lips over Ray’s just as lightly, and adds, “Quickly – before he drives away.”

Taking out the airpod, he looks at it, then puts it into Sand’s ear and smiles at the way he shakes his head.

Ray runs up to the car.

It’s just starting as he opens the door and slides into the passenger side and says, “Uncle Boom’s ice cream?”

“What?”

That’s the worst sign yet – not even a what the fuck, Boston is just blinking at him in unaggressive confusion instead of trying to push him out of the still-open car door.

“He does that New Year sale where the bowls are like buckets and he won’t stop you if you try to mix stupid flavours,” Ray says, “Come on, I’ll pay.”

A smile has caught about half of Boston’s mouth when he says, “Where the fuck’s your boyfriend, man, take him out.”

Ray puts on his seatbelt.

Conveniently, Sand takes that opportunity to start Ray’s car, pull backwards out of the space, and slowly drive behind Boston’s. He gives a little finger-wave through the window, and Ray leans out of the door to wave back.

When he gets back inside, he closes it and says, “He just left.”

“Yeah?” Boston says, kind of sarcastic but the smile has grown a little more.

Shrugging, Ray says, “Yeah. Ice cream?”

Boston gives in.

It’s their personal hangout spot, separate from the other two, so it’s not like they’re going to run into Mew and Top there now they’ve left – not April and Cheum either, because they for sure have food back there and they won’t want to run around. That’s probably why Boston actually drives the right way.

He tells Ray, after a couple of minutes of the radio’s quiet soundtrack, “Nick wouldn’t take it.”

“What wouldn’t he take?” Ray looks at Boston’s face, his clenched jaw and eyes on the road and doesn’t add, you were supposed to wait until ice cream, man.

Boston shrugs in the painful, stiff way that never seems as unbothered as he means, because he’s kind of like Ray where he can never hide the feelings he most wants to, and he says, “It’s in the back seat.”

Probably unsafe and definitely annoying to the driver, Ray immediately turns around and wriggles and stretches until he can pick up the large rectangular black object that Boston must have been stowing away when Ray spotted him. It, he discovers, is a photograph.

In the Bedroom with Boston, he thinks, followed by, oh, Ton.

He’s heard more about Nick and Boston’s whole thing from Nick than he ever did from Boston, and that’s earthshaking in its own way – there had been a time when he and Boston told each other about every hookup, in the exact ice cream place they’re headed to now, but of course Ray hadn’t told him about Sand and Boston hadn’t told him about Nick, and then neither of them had been telling the other anything at all. Certainly they hadn’t told each other sorry.

But now Boston has, and Ray thinks about the things Nick told him and how romantic Boston had seemed to him and he looks at the photo and sees him, for the first time – Boston the romantic.

Boston the boyfriend.

Probably not the second one anymore.

“It’s really nice,” he tells him, after being quiet for too long.

Boston takes nearly as long to say, “But Nick didn’t want it.”

Yeah.

Ray holds it in his lap for the rest of the drive.

The ice cream place is not normally a late-night one, actually, but New Year sales are New Year sales and Uncle Boom is a businessman – there’s still a queue, even though it’s…

Oh, wow, had Ray been running around with Sand for that long?

He can never tell how long it’s been, when Sand is there, all time-measurement abilities suspended so he can focus on more important things, but he’s still a little surprised.

Anyway, the people in front of them seem to be two different groups, so Ray says, “You should find a table, I’ll order.”

“Fuck off,” Boston says almost before he’s done speaking, “I know what fucking flavours you’ll try to get, I’m staying here so I can tell Uncle Boom to ignore you.”

“I’m paying, Ton-“

“-Mango and mint chocolate is a fucking disgusting-“

“-I’m adding bubblegum actually-“

And Ray generously lets Boston win this time, because he’s taking Boston out for a reason, but he still makes sure, as they sit down at one of the plastic tables added specifically for the Near Year sale, to say, “If you mix them the flavours are kind of like the bubblegum vodka martini Plug makes.”

“Liar,” Boston laughs, over their enormous, two-spooned bowl.

He takes a spoonful of Boston’s inferior selection.

Whenever they needed to gossip about hookups, any time back before the two birthday parties that changed everything, he and Boston would come here. The ice cream is good and nobody would be wrinkling their noses or nagging about being careful when either of them brought up, like, choking, or even just not remembering someone’s name.

After about half a minute, Boston says through a mouthful, “Did you mean it?”

Oh, they’re starting, he thinks.

“Mean what?” because it could be about him thinking the picture is nice or something he said at the party or even the fact he got in Boston’s car at all.

Not on that list is Boston’s, “You said you wanted to quit drinking.”

Oh, that.

It had gone better than he’d hoped for, bringing it up with them – Cheum not being there, he thinks guiltily, probably helped, because Mew hadn’t questioned him or openly doubted him or anything like that – but he’d known telling them all had to come eventually, and of course there are questions. Mew is probably going to be hurt if he ever realises Ray’s already started trying.

The other two, he’s practiced explaining to them with his therapist, who wants him to lay it out clearly and try not to feel like he’s presenting a legal defence; with Boston, it’s simpler.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, taking another spoonful, “I figured them- them all, even my dad, actually – them being annoying and mean about it doesn’t mean they’re always wrong, you know?”

“It’s not because your boyfriend went on a sex strike until you agreed? I could tell he wasn’t surprised when you said it.”

Ray snorts, “Sand couldn’t keep one up.”

“Yeah?”

And they’re laughing easily, Boston making a leering face and keeping it up as he faux-seductively licks his spoon and Ray flips him off.

But then Boston goes quiet, brow furrowed as he looks at the table.

It’s hard to hear his next words over the sounds of loud, drunk conversation at the other tables.

“It doesn’t mean they’re always wrong. About me too?”

Oh, right.

The others and the things they can sometimes be mean and annoying about. Boston’s always been one of those.

And Ray could give a knee-jerk, casual answer, and it could be yes, you fucked his boyfriend, Ton, of course they aren’t wrong about you, but it could also be, nah, we’re cool, but instead he tries to think about it, because this is for Boston.

So he tilts his head and looks through the window at the night-time city and says, “They aren’t always wrong about you, no.”

“Always?” Boston asks, following Ray.

This is the time for him to say it, “I’m sorry I backed Cheum up. It never sounded like something you’d do and I think Mew always knew that.”

He wasn’t expecting himself to say the part about Mew.

Where did that come from?

Boston’s face says he wasn’t expecting it either, mouth parted and eyes fixed on him.

“And it sucks about you and Nick,” he adds.

“Fuck you,” Boston says, “I’m not talking about that, let’s talk about how our friends hate me.”

He’s laughing but Ray can see he means it – nothing about Nick.

Ray moves his chair around the corner of the table, shuffles it up so he’s right next to Boston and presses their legs together, elbowing him a little so he elbows back, and says, “I mean, I don’t think Cheum hates you.”

With a sharp laugh, Boston elbows him again and says nothing.

“No, for real, Mew was being all bitchy to you earlier but Cheum wasn’t joining in at all,” he says.

It feels rude to say it about Mew, but Ray doesn’t think he’s wrong even if he also doesn’t think Mew was wrong to be bitchy, it’s like, complicated.

This is probably what Mew feels like when he’s trying to navigate everyone’s beef with Top.

Ugh.

Boston sighs, long and world-weary like he’s not sitting in front of a chocolate, coffee, and lime ice cream bucket, and he tilts his head back and stares at the ceiling and says, “She only feels bad for saying I turned Atom gay.”

“She wouldn’t feel bad if she still hated you, though,” Ray agrees, pointing at him with his spoon and dripping a little of the ice cream onto Boston’s lap – he doesn’t seem to notice, still looking to the ceiling, as Ray adds, “When are you leaving for New York? Do you have an apartment?”

This sigh is somehow even more world-weary.

“It’s going to take fucking forever,” he starts complaining, suddenly animated.

As he explains the problems that come with trying to move up his original visa plans, Ray realises this is a conversation he can actually understand even though it’s about practical stuff – that’s a first for him. Of course it’s because of his plans with Sand.

They go back-and-forth about visas and how stupid they are for a while before Ray turns to the most important thing about this revelation and says, “So that’s a couple months where we can still hang, then.”

Boston snorts, leans back in his chair, and nudges Ray’s knee with his own.

“I was planning on spending the time busy, actually.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Hell yeah. Bar hopping,” he counts off on his fingers, “Taking photos. Mostly, fucking any guy in the city I haven’t already… so that means you don’t qualify to hang with me.”

Ray kicks him, and Boston kicks him back and gets him in a loose headlock, and if Ray actually tries to get out he’ll knock over the chairs so he elbows him lightly and says, “Asshole, let me up,” until Boston laughingly does.

“You’re fine with him being mad at you for it,” Boston trails off without quite making it into a question, but Ray sees where he’s going.

He sits up and says, “Mew makes his own decisions, but he wasn’t mad at Cheum.”

They look at each other, and Ray thinks he sees some relief in Boston’s eyes at the answer, barely there in the reflection of the window.

Ray bites his lip and looks out of the window too.

“Me and Sand want to travel,” he adds to the darkness, “We might see New York one day.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

[francesminos-tt]

Twisted -3-

Daeron retired to his room at precisely 8pm. Miss K was kind enough to offer him some night tea, but Daeron refused politely. Instead, he asked for two bottled water and a copy of today’s local newspaper before entering his room and locking the door.

There were only two rooms in this small tavern, one tucked in the back, spacious with a view of the garden, the other small and facing the streets. Daeron opted for the small one, not because he couldn’t afford the spacious one, but he needed the convenience of observing the streets and the villagers passing by.

Daeron wiped away the thin layer of dust on the desk, carefully took the notebook out of his pocket, put down two water bottles, fished out his pills from the backpack, and sat down. He took some time to align the pill bottle and two water bottles perfectly before opening this notebook and began to write.

Daeron had developed the habit of writing his thoughts down since he was ten. His therapist suggested that he used this as an outlet of his emotions, to let your thoughts out, not keeping them in, sweetie. Daeron couldn’t even remember what the kind therapist looked like, but he took her advice. Over the years, his notebook served more than just a dairy, but an anchor to keep him in the reality.

Daeron flipped through the newspaper, its headline reading Expect a hot summer this year and mind your crops! The local issue contained mostly information of weather, farming, back yard sale, farmer’s market or interesting convention a few towns over, advertisements, and so on. The most dubious thing Daeron found in this newspaper was someone called Y asking for a companion to share his large house and look after his cow. No mention of the three bodies flooded out of the swamp just outside of the village.

Daeron was suspended from duty due to his violent behavior towards a murder suspect, so he had lost his privilege of accessing the police database. Still, he followed crime news as best as he could, especially cases involving pre-teen girls. The three bodies that had been flooded out were all skeletons, their flesh gone, but from the height of the skeletons, it was clear that they were all children. Daeron had a hunch that there was more to this cold case than it appeared. That was why he came to Arcadia.

After reading the newspaper for three times and found nothing useful, Daeron sighed and folded the paper back to its original state. He placed the neatly folded paper on the desk and took two pills with water before lying down on his bed.

He stared at the ceiling; the nicely carved mahogany spoke to the history of this place. Not only this tavern, but the whole village seemed to be frozen in the past, in a time when everyone trusted everyone. This place was an ideal image of country life, quiet and friendly, the beauty of nature bringing out the best of humanity.

Or the worst.

Daeron felt his eyelids grew heavier and heavier. He fell asleep with a white farm house and a pair of flirty dark eyes in mind.

May 29th

The village is quieter than I expected. I haven’t met many people yet, but the tavern owner, Miss K, told me that the town square is the place to go to meet new people. I might test my luck there tomorrow.

There was no news about the burial site before my phone died. I will have to use the classic approach and consult the newspaper for further updates. I still think there are more victims than the three bodies flooded out of the mud. My instinct is rarely wrong.

I met a young man Joffrey is He has dark hair He is chatty flirty beautiful

A young man showed me around the village. He lived in the white farm house on the hill. His name is Joffrey.

================================================

Joffrey took another shower after he finished washing the dishes and feeding the dog at the backyard. He changed into a set of cheeky lingerie paired with a silk robe. He switched off all lights in the house and went to the master bedroom.

Master was already in bed, a book in hand with his reading glasses on. He was relaxed and casual, his neat hair brushed back to reveal his unimpressed face. He wore a simple navy-blue T-shirt, rimmed reading glassed hanging dangerously on his nose as he flipped the pages. He looked ordinary at best. An ordinary farmer who lived in the village all his life.

But to Joffrey, Master was nothing but ordinary. Joffrey learned to admire the neatly combed hair, the small crease between his brows, thin lips, grey blue eyes, the narrow jaw, well defined chest and arms, large calloused hands, the hairs on his navel, strong legs, and warm cock. Joffrey shifted at the door way as his panties grew uncomfortably tight. Just imagining Master naked under the sheets was enough to make him whine for attention.

“Come here, good boy.” Master put down the book and smiled at Joffrey, “Don’t ruin the carpet with your slutty juice.”

Joffrey didn’t need to be told twice. He strode to the bed and threw himself at his Master, nuzzling the man’s chest like a clingy cat.

“Did you feed the dog?” Master asked him, parting Joffrey’s robe and brushing against the boy’s pink nipple under the sheer lingerie.

“Yes, Master.” Joffrey shifted on the sheets to give the man more access, “He liked the leftover chicken.”

“Because it is stained with your blood, dear Joffrey.” Master chuckled, grabbing Joffrey’s leaking cock over his panties, “You know my dog shares my taste. I like your blood too.”

Joffrey had cut his finger while preparing for the herbed chicken, and Master forbid him to wash the blood stain away, so they had chicken seasoned with Joffrey’s blood tonight.

“I am all yours, Master.” Joffrey murmured with all the honesty in the world, “My blood, flesh, bones, and soul. You made me, Master. I am your creation.”

The man’s breath caught in his throat. For a fleeting moment, his mask cracked, all his confidence and grace gone, leaving only his core, raw and vulnerable. He kissed Joffrey’s murmuring lips, their breath tangled together like their limbs.

“Can I have your cock tonight, Master?” Joffrey asked, sneaking his hand down to grab the man’s throbbing length, “Please. I haven’t felt you inside of me for so long.”

“It’s only two days.” Master chuckled.

“It’s an eternity.” Joffrey insisted, fluttering his thick lashes seductively, “Please, I need you, Master.”

The man caved in at last. How could he reject his boy, his most precious treasure, his masterpiece?

They made love well into the night, until both of them were so exhausted that they could no longer lift a finger.

“I met someone today.” Joffrey whispered as he began to doze off, his tone relaxed as if he was talking about a stray animal he found in the streets, “A visitor.”

The man hummed, unimpressed as usual.

Joffrey rolled to his side and clung to his Master’s strong arm. He took a deep inhale, letting the man’s distinctive smell invade his nostrils.

“I wonder how long can he hold on?”

“We will see, Joffrey.” Master kissed Joffrey’s forehead, “We will see.”

[luchicm04]

lost in the forest - part 13

Masterlist

Summary: The clan is officially presented with their guest, and not all of them are happy.

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Original Female Character

Tag: #lost in the forest fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 3.4k

Overall warnings: canon-typical violence, adult content, time skips, angst, kidnapping

She can’t help comparing this with a day of bad meetings, where your boss just looks for who pays for the broken dishes of a poor planning where sales expectations were placed at the highest, with worse results. The tension, the looks... As a marketing manager, everyone points to this department as the one to blame for the lack of momentum. 

Being that it is not. 

Karen is familiar with that. She raises her chin, stands straight... and although this is not the same, she follows the rhythm of her light walk with her uncomfortable shoes and extravagant clothing. She wants to run, to not see these people who look at her with shamelessness. 

The road is long... accompanied by the old woman named Kaori. 

“Very good,” Mikami praises seeing the movement and judging her even at this moment. Seriously, she took this task very strictly to the letter.

A true professional. 

Karen doesn’t say anything. She wants to turn around, analyze and observe this part of the house that she is sure she hasn’t been to before. Well, what is there to say of that hallway with a door she never saw but is the least of it being involved in the panorama of the event where silence reigns. 

It’s obvious people are curious, morbid... they don’t want her there. 

They arrive at a house of enormous proportions right in the middle of the cobbled roads of a complex of humble houses full of wood. Many dressed in kimonos form around the large plaza that forms in front of their goal. 

Mikami and Kaori bow in respect... Karen doesn’t want to do it but gives in to the formality of those she can see in front of her. She wonders what kind of position Hashirama and Tobirama have whom they see in the middle, surrounded by a bunch of old people who she almost swears is the accursed council. 

The people who have forced her out of her isolation... her depression and loneliness. 

The culprits of her torture disguised as cultural learning. 

“So this is the woman.” An old man with a long beard lightly caresses said facial decoration with curiosity, breaking the silence that spread through the place. 

“Yes, she is.” Tobirama is the one who responds with a scolding gesture. She looks at the one with long hair who remains haughty... imposing. She never thought that the cheerful and mysterious Hashirama could look more intimidating than his brother. Karen gives him a point for it. 

Making him stand out like a sure toe. 

“Today is a day of festivities...” The softest of her kidnappers is in the front, while the bustle around her accelerates at her side... approaching as if she were the most important thing in existence. The civilian does not avoid being scared. So many presences maker her anxious after a year locked up without any contact. 

Her beautiful anniversary is months away... how ironic. 

She loses herself in what the host says, spending a few seconds rambling between the plans she wants to make from now on, what these people expect and preparing for the worst. “Karen-san?” Mikami is the one who calls to her side, making her blink at the interruption of her astral absence. 

Almost projecting herself somewhere else mentally than where she is physically. 

She feels how all eyes are focused on her back. There are whispers of ‘rude woman’ that she ignores among many other insults. “Karen?” Someone calls her forward. The man who shakes his hand smiles brightly, animated and full of life. “Come.” 

“Uh... ” She wants to say a lot of things, especially that she is not the best at this moment for this kind of spectacle. Karen hesitates... She ends up smiling out of nervousness as she takes the hand of the one who waits calmly, precious seconds that many begin to misunderstand although it means little to her, including the look of death that Tobirama gives her. 

“She will be important for the next step of our clan,” says the man next to her when he sees that all the people are looking at them. She smiles... hiding her nervousness by giving a warning squeeze to who does not let go. “In order to achieve something similar to peace.” 

Hashirama looks confident, so honest in his desire that many people begin to applaud. She can see that the council does not look satisfied, much less understands her role at this point. 

Karen doesn’t look, she stays in her safe position so as not to say the opposite. 

“Hashirama?” The woman says almost in a whisper knowing that there will be no turning back from this. Things will change and she will be so tired of dealing with them. 

“Do not worry... I told you, have confidence,” the man assures his accomplice and then looks at the council who is confused by thus action, denoting how rare her presence is among those people who she believes have the same bloodthirsty profession. “As a civilian noble, she will be important to continue dealing with the nobles, as you will see she has the necessary etiquette to negotiate with those who fear us and perhaps we can achieve peace.” He sounds so visionary that the others just smile. 

But Karen knows what kind of smiles and false calm there is, remembering bitterly the meetings where the bosses... her superiors wanted to cut off heads for things that are not within their hands. Plus Hashirama just said that she is a noble... a title that isn’t hers. 

“As a clan leader, you are an idealist,” says one with a high ponytail, a bitter old man who raises his chin without showing any type of expression. The people continue whispering... oblivious, obedient to what the two tall factions are exchanging. 

And Karen is in the middle... great. 

“I am... but for the future of the family,” Hashirama assures firmly. 

“Does Tobirama-sama think the same?” Another calls, with a long beard and an ugly scar on his cheek. 

“You do not have to ask,” the albino bites poisonously. “My brother has the idea and now, we can ensure that it lasts.” 

“A civilian... Do you really want to entrust the future of our clan to a civilian?” Another old man with short hair and a lost look questions sincerely and harshly. 

“She is not a simple civilian noble, she is a visionary... she does not fear us like the others,” the clan leader assures firmly. Karen feels that he is giving her a lot of credit either to saving her life or to prove her worth without knowing her. 

Where does he get so much confidence from? Why does he put her in this predicament? Is it her only salvation? Couldn’t he say something less compromising? 

“What do you say, girl?” Another spits poisonously, seeing her between two of the most powerful men of the clan. She blinks to gulp thickly and pretends... she remains her voice and gaze to those who look down on her. 

“I may be a civilian, gentlemen, but I will adapt to what is planned and I shall give the pertinent suggestions to ensure that this does not remain in simple words and can have the best results,” Karen affirms, putting one last nail in that figurative coffin that she is easily making for herself. 

Tobirama huffs from her back but doesn’t add anything else, although Hashirama laughs, lightly hitting her back almost making her fall. “I told you... it will be a new future...” 

“Mph... we hope so, child,” the first old man who spoke to them accepts to look at the rest of the members of that mafia firmly. 

“It is time to start the event. Enjoy the food and drink,” Hashirama declares with a solemn gesture in front of all eyes. The others cheer, smile and begin to organize themselves to start an event between gallant clothes together with smells that awaken hunger. 

“Was it the only way?” Karen questions in her harsh language. She frowns at who returns a gesture different from the previous one. 

“It was.” 

“At least you could have warned me, right?” She feels irritated, used and extremely offended for being placed in this predicament. 

“No... it was necessary,” the man stubbornly states, giving a gesture to Tobirama who snorts and rolls hie eyes. 

“Of course... like everything else,” she complains. Remembering that she shouldn’t ask too many questions, she crosses her arms to look at the man. She has a lot to say, things to shout at him but in the midst of so many eyes that are still waiting for her to react badly it’s necessary to lower her presence when she is clearly the center. “And let me tell you... I am not a noblewoman,” she complains again. 

“You are not?” The one with long hair blinks like an innocent owl and she frowns. She knows this is a performance but she doesn’t comment on anything else. 

“It will not be difficult to appear to be. You do not look like someone who has worked the land hard nor a murderer,” Tobirama adds with a cold touch to the conversation. 

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Karen comments bitterly with a growing headache, she frowns and raises her eyebrow at who smiles expectantly. “So... leader, huh?” Better focus her attention elsewhere in this strange environment. 

“Yes, the leader of the Senju clan,” Hashirama confirms with a tone full of pride. 

Karen does not avoid raising her eyebrow. She more or less calculates his age at less than 25 which makes him very young for so much responsibility. “You are very young.” 

“I am,” the leader blinks amused. 

“Wow... I guess I won’t have any more surprises today... I hope,” Karen complains looking at the albino. “And your brother?” She reminds the one who remains indifferent and bitter, as if he had lost a fight that he had not been told about. 

“Hashirama is my brother,” he says with a dignified frown, after exchanging a look with the black-haired man. Karen does not avoid looking at them with doubt, she compares them and notices a certain resemblance that is not so quick to grasp... again she exchanges a gesture between both of them to snort tiredly. 

“I want to go now,” she complains with no desire to say anything else. She doesn’t want to think about the plot she got into where politics are so difficult to deal with. She massages the bridge of her nose, being ignored by both men who have a plan behind her back. 

The beginning of such a drastic change in her routine. 

──

She sits far from the noise that extends all night and gives another long yawn, looking at the stars with no desire to continue pretending to have a role in this society. 

They have kidnapped her, isolated her enough that they dare ask her to maintain a role as a civilian noble who will help this clan grow. 

It’s not her business... but it’s what she has in her hands. 

“What would you do, dad?” She better decides to remember her old father, the one who always had the best solutions to problems and advised her in her difficult moments of crossroads. 

She misses him... She wants to leave and Karen can’t. 

“So you are noble,” some calls, scaring her. She recognizes her which makes her frown. “Wow... don’t be so hostile, I just want to be your friend,” she assures. 

“...” 

“I won’t take you out now.” The woman better focuses with a funny raise of her hands. 

“What do you need?” She raises her eyebrow with dignity. She wants to shout so many things at her... because she went through a lot when she was taken out and found that first village. 

Because she knows it was her... she will never forget it. 

“Wow... now you understand my language, it was so tiring dealing with you.” 

“...” 

“I’m just saying, to be the leader’s pet you turned out to be of good blood.” 

Karen does not take this bluff quickly. She frowns looking around where no one happens to pass by and tries to follow the path leaving this discomfort far away but is swiftly stopped by that woman. 

Denoting that she is just as rare as Hashirama and Tobirama. 

“You know... I don’t know what Hashirama-sama sees in you... or even Tobirama-sama... What did you did you give them?” 

Karen simply raises her chin. “You better tread carefully...” 

“Senju Touka,” the woman points out with pride and an ironic smile. She takes part of a lock of her hair lightly. “For a woman, you don’t have much to offer... noble or not, you’re just still a civilian.” 

Karen does not avoid frowning at such a cheeky comment. She sighs to raise her hand. “I have no relationship with the brothers.” 

“Huh?” The woman blinks. 

“I know it’s uncomfortable to accept, but you don’t have to make me a target for intimidation when I have nothing to do romantically speaking with those men.” Karen prefers to clarify their relationship before this gets complicated. “I’m not interested in them.” 

“What do you mean?!” The girl turns red at such an insinuation. 

“Look... It’s complicated but as Hashirama said, I only come to see how I can help as a civilian... even if you think I’m useless, I have my uses.” 

“You...” She shinobi simply blinks and opens her mouth a couple of times. “You don’t have to tell me that!” She squeezes her shoulders harshly. 

“I just... Well, I think I misunderstood,” she frowns at the pain of such a small action. 

“I... well, Hashirama-sama and I are childhood friends, I saw him grow up... it’s... well...” The woman stammers, a little uncomfortable with what she has said. Karen tries to escape when she thinks she is no longer paying attention. 

The civilian simply falls on her back without any care. Touka is blushing at the little that was said, pointing out that in fact... although she does not accept it, she is romantically interested in those men. 

She doesn’t roll her eyes because she’s busy rubbing her shoulders. 

“You don’t know how hard they have tried! ...You  won’t help them in ANYTHING when you’ve gotten them into so much trouble!” 

“Touka!” Someone orders from behind the woman. She gulps to show a controlled Tobirama looking at her on the ground with little delicacy. “What exactly is happening here?” 

“I...” She purses her lips, looking at the civilian who sighs. 

“I fell... It's obvious,” she sighs bitterly, clumsily getting up with such an uncomfortable suit. “Touka just... well, she wanted to share part of her mind,” she shrugs. 

“Touka,” with a little warning and imposing feeling, she sighs to apologize and leave. 

“Uh... you were hard on her.” She feels bad that she is scolded by one of her idols, blamed for it... but the situation was so lamentable. 

Tobirama as always is not so surprised. “Hashirama sent me to look for you.” 

“I didn’t run away.” 

“You cannot.” 

Karen doesn’t say anything. They both have enough history to add more bitterness to a bond that won’t be fixed and they both don’t want to have, so she allows herself to be escorted in silence without saying anything more that could break that strange pact. 

The woman looks at Hashirama, who is talking to another old man very different from the ones presented before, although this one looks older than the previous ones. Ending up discussing politics is not the best closure for such a strange event. 

Less when she has a lot to say and a few words that come to mind. 

Karen thus had the first contact outside of her isolation, out of political obligation... The start of a series of triggers that would lead to another destiny so different from the one she believed. 

──

She feels so tired that she can no longer keep her eyes open. The party continues and she is obviously the only one who is losing at sleep resistance as she sits on the edge of that main house in the middle of the enormous field. 

There are drunk people, many who tried to approach her being interrupted by Tobirama... Mikami sometimes comes to scold her for her position as does Grandma Kaori. 

“Do not fall asleep here,” Tobirama complains, looking at her pathetically leaning on the edge of her seat with the table in front of her. 

“I’m sleepy.” 

“Can you not hold on ...anymore?” He adds awkwardly in English, a stratergy he uses when he feels there are people listening to their comments. To be the leaders... they are too observed. 

“I... I’m not used to it.” 

“Seriously... are you not a noble?” 

“I’m not,” she laughs just as much at that comment. 

“You cannot hold on.” 

“I’m not sorry about that,” the woman snorts slightly, yawning. “I’m not a noble but that’s already more than clear...” 

“Then?” 

“Then what?” 

“You have little training... muscles, but I do not see your hands hurt. You are not a worker.” 

“Not from the countryside or anything manual,” the woman clarifies, looking better at the sky when she feels her dream will not be soon. “I don’t know why I have to talk to you...” 

“Mmmmm...” Tobirama raises his eyebrow in a call for attention. 

“Look... I still dislike you, you don’t have to accompany me.” 

“Hashirama is not here.” 

The girl doesn’t comment anything, sitting in such an uncomfortable environment. She wants to leave, ignore the guy but people around her are so happy that she could break this strange moment. 

“Is what Hashirama said true?” Karen asks out of nowhere to her silent partner, that gargoyle that always stands next to her. 

“What?” He snaps bitterly. 

“About peace.” 

“It is none of your business,” the man declares coldly. 

“If I remember correctly, Hashirama said I would help, so if you are going to get me into this, at least we must exhange something...” The woman frowns, not at all intimidated by the man’s position of respect for the clan, the fact that he could kill her or anything that makes her shut up. 

A difficult thing... Karen is not one of those who keeps everything in her hoarse chest. 

The albino frowns to look at the panorama they share in the middle of the festival. “We are at war.” 

“I see.” Karen now understands why there was so much bitterness and mistrust if they are in difficult times. “War is complicated... a thing that should not exist.” 

“Mph... you do not know what you are saying.” 

“Just because my hands aren’t full of calluases or I haven’t seen the blood doesn’t mean that I don’t know what war is.” The woman twists her mouth, crossing her arms in an annoyed scold. “I know what it is, what it takes away and makes people change.” 

“...” 

“Where I come from... there were many wars, nations that fell... I just,” she sighs, not wanting to talk about the things she knows, the sad things in her world. “It can be achieved... peace...” 

“Mph...” 

“Do you not believe it?” 

“It is not that I believe it... as long as Hashirama believes it,” he said with a cold tone... but somehow warm, strange about him, which makes her notice that he appreciates his brother a lot. 

“Having siblings is great.” She focuses her interest better on another funny point of such a bitter conversation. Karen may be curious but she notices that there are things that are better to remain ignorant of. 

“...” 

“I have one... a little sister.” 

“...I did not ask.” 

“Uh... jerk," Karen does not avoid commenting, seeing that the guy really does not want her to share part of her thoughs. “That’s why you are the worst company... I jjst wanted to tell you things.” 

“I do not need them.” 

“Well... jerk,” she repeats in a frank complaint. The good thing is that Mikami and Kaori come at the same time to end this debate before they end up fighting for different opinions. They respectfully greet Tobirama to give the order to return to the house she now longs to be in. 

She’s socialized enough tonight... too much for her liking when she’s already so used to isolation, loneliness and so on, that taking off her kimono would be the best gift along with the hard sandals. 

Karen only had one thought when she got the her room... sleep.  It woundn’t be such a bad idea. 

A/N: As you can see, they will use her as something political, something that Hashirama has discussed a lot with Tobirama behind closed doors, because they have seen it... they know she can be useful in a non-combatant perspective... at least it was not the option of getting married as the councilors said.

Karen from now on will necessarily have more participation in different bureaucratic things that she will begin to correct and address. Not as an assistant because there are classified things... but at least the simplest things such as organization of what was purchased as input or things like that for the clan.

Finally going out to meet more people... Could it be?

Thank you for your comments. The story develops slowly, but surely it will go making its way little by little. Also, I remind you that the things written in bold is the local language of the Elemental Nations.

Author-chan out! 

[atdutiesend]

😂😂

{ @cxsmictxy wanted the worst jokes | Always Accepting, there's a meme somewhere }

"Alright kiddies, settle in, I'm gonna tell you about... hm, let's make this relevant and call it Mhachi Dick." Grim cracked his knuckles, grinning broadly.

"So there's this lovely married couple, who are just so in love, and have a very active love life. Make the Chais look tame, y'know, that kind of lovey dovey yes darling absolute ad-or-a-tion~." He waited for the retching sound before continuing. "But, the husband has a job that means he has to take business trips pretty often. And they both hate it, but the wife, she gets bored waiting for her husband to come home. And toys just... don't do it for her. But her husband isn't going to leave her with just her hand for company, oh no. So he visits every brothel and sex shop in town, looking for something to keep his wife occupied while he's away for work."

"Why not just bring her with him?"

"She's a homemaker and runs their social life. Don' worry about it." Grim flicked Dove's forehead for interrupting him. "Anyways, he finally gets to this real hole in the wall rundown lookin' place. It's the last one on the list for a reason, y'know, but none of the nice places had anything approachin' good enough for his wife. So in he goes to talk to the shopkeep. They go through every toy the shopkeeper has, but still nothin' good enough. The shopkeep eyes him real good an' says, 'Well, alright, I have one thing that might work, but it ain't for sale. Rent only.' The guy sighs and nods, so the shopkeep goes to the back room, and comes back a few minutes later with this ancient-lookin' wooden box. He opens it, and there's this equally-ancient wooden dildo inside. So the guy's like, 'what the fuck man, I'm not putting this in my wife, what kind of hemp are you smoking'?" Grim paused, breaking out his most shit-eating grin and spreading hiss hands.

"Well, of course, that's when the shopkeep grins at him all smug-like an' says, 'Mhachi Dick, the keyhole.' Well, sure as shit, the dildo suddenly springs to life, flies over to the keyhole, and starts fucking the shit out of it. The door's banging about, and if a building could get off, well,..." This is, of course, accompanied by hand gestures. Very explicit ones.

"Mister businessman is now very interested. 'How much for it?' "'Oh, I can't sell it.' "'Five million gil, in cash, now.' "'... Well alright, but remember to tell it when you're finished with it- Mhachi Dick, back in the box.' The businessman goes back to his wife, of course, and shows it off. She's just as unimpressed as he was at first, until gets her to try it. And she loves it! She's so turned on that she practically jumps her husband, and they do as they've always done, making loud messy love all over the house."

Dove groaned, dragging a hand down their face.

"So anyways, the next day he leaves for his trip. And his wife keeps busy most of the day, but come nightfall, she's really missing her husband. So she gets it out. 'Mhachi Dick, my pussy.' And it goes to town on her. Most powerful orgasms she's ever had in her life. She's shaking and trembling, three orgasms in, and finally says, 'Mhachi Dick, stop!' But of course..."

"It doesn't stop."

"Right. She didn't say the magic words. She keeps trying, 'Mhachi Dick, enough! Mhachi Dick, turn off!' but nothing works. Now she's six or seven in and getting sore. She's gonna have to go talk to a chirugeon or the conjurers, just to find someone who knows how to stop it. So she puts on her most covering nightgown and robe and sloooowly waddles her way out of the house, eases herself into a carriage, and starts trying to navigate her way into town. Of course, a nosy guard notices she's having some trouble.

"'Ma'am, should you really be driving a chocobo? You seem pretty inebriated.' "'I- I'm fine, I just, just need to see a conjur-jurer, that's all.' "'Uh huh, step off the cart, we'll escort you.' "'Really, ser, I'm comple-etly sober! I've just got a, a magic dildo that won't stop--'

"Of course, the guard isn't impressed. She must be high as balls on some real good hemp or soma or something. 'Sure, ma'am, and what's this called?' "'Oh, it's called Mhachi Dick, ser...' "'Uh huh, Mhachi Dick, my ass.'"

Grim waited, watching Dove with a mostly straight face. Dove blinked, then cackled, falling out of their chair as they howled.

"That's terrible!"

"I know!"

Eventually, Dove recovered enough to point at Grim. "Okay, okay. Why's bein' in a grand company like gettin' a blow job?"

"What?"

"The closer you get to discharge, the better you feel."

[lanottedellastrega]

Man, I haven't done a transcript in a while...

Editor's Letter: GHOULS ON FILM

Tobias Forge has always been wildly ambitious. After throwing everything at Ghost in his last real shot as a professional musician, he established the band as an occult-rock force you couldn't look away from, all shady Nameless Ghouls and papal vestments. As the years rolled by, Tobias might have unmasked, but the Ghost legend has only grown. Back at their early gigs in 2010, few could have predicted they'd have their own actual movie in 2024. Like everything Ghost do, Rite Here Rite Now has been kept tightly under wraps, but Tobias was kind enough to grant our Paul Brannigan an audience, and reveal the behind-the-scenes machinations that led to such a triumph of creativity. And if you're reading this letter on June 20, the day the magazine goes on sale and the day the film premieres, you're probably about to experience his vision for yourself. "This is not a tale about death, but one of life…" intones the voicover on Rite Here Rite Now's spooktacular, schlock'n'roll trailer. While we can't say for certain if Papa IV will survive in his current form, we certainly hope Ghost are around to entertain us for a long time to come.

Stay metal, Eleanor Goodman, Editor

RITES. CAMERA. ACTION! From dancing ghouls to…dead Papas? Tobias forge takex us behind the scenes of Rite Here Rite Now, Ghost's new movie spectacular. Words: Paul Brannigan - Lives: Ryan Chang - Portraaits: Travis Shinn

[Accompanying photo: two-page spread of the Forum Ritual, taken during Con Clavi Con Dio, with Papa downstage center holding the thurible. Caption: "Everything Ghost do is BIG. We expect no less from the film"]

Last year, in case you didn't notice, those "hands that threaten doom" which Iron Maiden's Bruce Dickinson once sang about, inched 10 seconds closer to midnight. The Science and Security Board of the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, the people who created the Doomsday Clock back in 1947 to gauge how close humanity is to destroying the world, reset the minute hand for the 25th time since its creation, moving it closer to the hour than it has ever been. So the prospect of imminent global catastrophe is now ever more pronounced, which, to be honest, is something of a bummer.

"We are approaching the end of an era. So let's have a good time." It was with these equally doom-laden words that Papa Emeritus IV, Ghost's puckish frontman, welcomed the faithful to the Kia Forum in Los Angeles on September 11 last year, for the first of two 'rituals' bringing the Re-Imperatour USA 2023 tour to a close. For those in attendance, the weight of those words hung heavily in the air.

In February last year, news that a second night at the 17,500-capacity venue had been added to the end of the Swedish band's tour schedule, after the first show sold out, was delivered in Chapter 16 of the occult rock collective's web series. The episode, titled Tax Season, was accompanied by a message from "The Clergy" stating, "We wish to inform you that in this world, nothing is certain except death and taxes."

The clip itself featured none-too-subtle hints that Papa Emeritus IV may not be long for this world; at one point, while he's playing a retro racing video game, he's distracted by the sight of a glass coffin being wheeled past his door, and when his attention returns to his TV screen, the words 'Game Over!!!!!!' appear. In Ghost world, where every symbol is scrutinised to the nth degree by the faithful, this was interpreted as a warning that the writing was on the wall for this Papa in the City of Angels. And when it was revealed that the group's two-night stand at the Forum was to be filmed for a future film release, with all phones to be confiscated from patrons upon entry, we feared the worst.

Hammer duly dispatched Associate Editor Dave Everley to Los Angeles to bear witness to what promised to be the gravest chapter yet in Ghost's evolution. At the conclusion of the second night at the Forum, however, Papa IV - "channelling the ghosts of Freddie Mercury and vintage Willy Wonka", Dave noted - was still standing, indeed dancing…but there was a lingering suspicion that there was more to be revealed.

Then, on May 1 this year, came a new message: the announcement that Rite Here Rite Now, Ghost's debut feature film, chronicling the events in Los Angeles, would be screened in cinemas worldwide on June 20 and 22. And those studying the minutiae of the film poster observed that the letter "o" in the final word of the title had been substituted for an analogue clock, its hands positioned at - and you might be ahead of us here - two minutes to midnight. Well, well, well…

"The Doomsday Clock is not an actual clock - it's more of a measuring tool for us to understand how near we are to fucking things up. But it's not like a timer on a bomb, and that means that we can still change things around. And this film is a little bit about that, about turning around and changing your ways, even if it's just your attitude towards things."

The real world time is 6:30pm (BST) on May 9, and an email has just informed us that 'Mary Goore' has joined our Zoom call from Stockholm. Those familiar with Ghost's pre-history will be aware that this was Tobias Forge's stage name in both his death metal band Repugnant and his glam metal outfit Crashdiet, and though he chooses today to keep his camera off, the voice on the call is unmistakably that of Ghost's 43-year-old leader. The trailer for Rite Here Rite Now premiered exactly four and a half hours ago, and as far as Tobias can ascertain, it's been "well met" so far the only "concerns" he as noticed to date bein raised by fans worried that the film has not yet been booked into picture houses in their homelands.

"The film is being distributed in many countries, but not all," he explains, "so I understand that there were some voices that felt like we'd overlooked this or that country. It's like when you announce a tour, and immediately get 'Why aren't you coming to… [insert country name]?' That wasn't our decision, I can't tell you why, it's just that some countries didn't want the film, or whatever."

Officially, the first seeds for Rite Here Rite Now were planted in Tobias's mind "over a decade" ago.

"When Ghost got signed to Loma Vista, Tom Whalley [owner and CEO] asked what the story of the band was," he explained in the press release announcing the film. "He felt telling a story was vital in order to get new fans engaged. I said that because we were a new 'baby' band and, more importantly, we were an anonymous baby band, there wasn't really a compelling story to tell. Not yet anyway. But I told him that if he wanted a story, I could come up with one. This film is the fruit of that conversation."

Those who've follwed the band from their earliest days, however, will know that, from the outset, Ghost emerged accompanied by a sense of theatre. Back in 2012, when I spoke to Swedish journalist Richard Lagergren, formerly the guitarist in the band Portrait, and the first 'outsider' to be informed of the existence of Ghost, he used the words "very cinematic, very surreal and very intense" to describe his first encounter with the group. He revealed that he was at his home one Sunday afternoon in October 2010, when he received a phone call telling him that a local band wished to see him. Within an hour, a car pulled up outside his home, and he was blindfolded, driven into the countryside and led into a disused warehouse, where, once his blindfold was removed, he found himself face-to-face with Papa Emeritus and five Nameless Ghouls, and was informed that he had been selected to begin disseminating word of Ghost's Satanic ministry to the world. This was very much not how bands were expected to conduct their business in 2010, and it telegraphed, from day one, Tobias's (still present) desire to keep Ghost out of step with standard, traditional music industry conventions.

[Accompanying photo: Portrait of Papa IV taken in his costume from the start of the show - gold Huntsman jacket, black pirate shirt, black ascot with devil scarf ring, distressed black pants. He is staring at the camera, his arms crossed and his hands at shoulder height, making the sign of the horns. Caption: "What delights are up Tobias's ornate sleeves this time?"]

"From the start, we were cutting against the grain," he reflects. "If you think back to that time, it was the beginning of when the music industry demanded a sort of hyper-frantic online presence from bands, and every band was updating Facebook as soon as they did anything, sending out private messages, like, 'Hey, everyone, don't forget to buy tickets!' I said immediately to my label, 'I don't wanna do that, I fucking hate that shit, and I don't wanna be part of that…and we're a fucking anonymous band.'

"So it was an issue, and we had to steer around a lot of those things, while figuring out, 'How do we communicate with the world what we want to communicate?' We had to figure out ways to sort of cable out a story to the world, a story that we didn't really have at that time, or a story that I didn't want to tell. Because what was that story going to be? My story? No, fuck that. So I said 'I'm gonna come up with a story, and it might unfold in the form of short little online episodes.' And Tom Whalley was like 'OK, I'm intrigued. What do you want to do?'

"So we started doing these episodes about The Ministry, with our little commercial messages attached, and it turned out fun. But obviously it became very complicated: there's a reason why bands just turn on their phones and are like, 'We're coming to Brazil!' It's so much easier. Whereas everything that we've ever done has always been way more complicated. But lots of fun, too. And so, via those web episodes, the story has really taken shape. The idea of making a film has been in my head for years, and I've always been adamant about the web episodes not being too detailed, because you don't want to paint yourself into a corner, so there's been a lot of loose threads. But I figured that I could take these loose threads, tie them together in some sort of comprehensible form, and that could be the film. And that's why we're talking today, finally!"

If you think that today Tobias Forge is going to outline exactly what happens onscreen in Rite Here Rite Now, you really haven't been paying attention to how Ghost operate. For as much as Tobias loves theatre and showmanship, he also treasures and truly values the mystique around his band. And that has its roots in the way he himself discovered his favourite bands as a teenager. For as much as he loved Kiss, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, the Sex Pistols and Venom, the young Tobias Forge was equally immersed in an underground extreme metal community where anonymity was prized above adulation.

"A lot of the bands that I grew up listening to weren't very famous at all," he recalls. "Some of them didn't ever play live, some 'bands' were actually one guy in his bedroom, and you knew very little about anyone. And when these bands did communicate with the world, it was through fanzines, and very adolescent interviews where they gave outrageous, very provocative answers. That helped cement my magnetism towards maintaining mystique, and back in 2010, I definitely thought that there was a way where Ghost could achieve some sort of success whilst 100% maintaining a mystique. And over the years, I've learned that was hard…but then I never thought we'd be as successful as we are.

"The best way to be anonymous in a band is by not forming a band. Don't do it! It's counterintuitive to remain anonymous if you want to be in a big professional band, and it's counterintuitive to sign with a major label who want to break your band. I've always been under the impression that in order to become a representative of the night, you have to be supernatural, but now it's time to let the world in on the story so far, to some extent."

[Accompanying image: Papa IV on stage during Year Zero, microphone in his left hand, his right hand counting two. Caption: "Is Papa IV on borrowed time?"]

With Rite Here Rite Now, Tobias admits that he's in "virgin territory". But here's what we're allowed to know. The film takes place over the course of one evening, with a narrative centered around a gig in Los Angeles, but with flashbacks referencing storylines in the Ghost 'webisodes', which began on YouTube in March 2018. For metal fans, the concept of a feature film blending a live show with a dramatic narrative will likely call to mind Metallica's bold and largely incomprehensible 2013 film Through The Never, a commercial disaster for the band, with James Hetfield subsequently admitting that it "disappeared" and describing the entire experience as "bittersweet". Tobias insists that, actually, there are no overlaps in what he set out to do with Ghost's film - "that film was never a guiding light" are his exact words - and he cites two alternate films as much more instructive in terms of his ambitions.

"As we were pitching the film, the two films that I mentioned a lot in orer for people to try to comprehend artistically what I'm trying to do were [The Rolling Stones' 1983 concert film] Let's Spend The Night Together mixed with [The Sex Pistols' 1980 'mockumentary'] The Great Rock'n'Roll Swindle. There is a sense of an origin story, but it's very much a story that takes place during an evening. So you sort of step right into what is happening right there and right then, and maybe the main character's inability, or unwillingness, to be there.

"One issue, or one challenge, that we faced was making a film that was comprehensible to anyone who had no clue about what Ghost is," he continues. "We have a very, very passionate fanbase, who, to a large degree at least, are very aware of everything that goes on with Ghost. The easy part, conceptually, was to make a film that would please them, because they know the story already, they know the context that we are now extending with this film, because it's basically picking up where the last episodes ended. But we wanted it to be that someone who doesn't know shit about the story gets brought up to speed pretty quickly. But this is where my ability to be objective ends, because I'm wondering, 'Do people understand what I'm saying here? Do people get that?'

"Obviously, as with everyone else, I'm a Star Wars fan, and that worked pretty well in the sense where you just crash land right into the story. That works where the message of the film is quite simple, and I think that the message that we're trying to convey with this film is to be right here right now, and not anywhere else. That's what I'm hoping everyone will understand."

[Accompanying photo: Papa and the ghouls backstage before the show. Caption: "What role will the Ghouls play in Rite Here Rite Now?"]

This sounds quite straightforward on paper. But, as Tobias was to quickly learn, the film business is not straightforward, not when films cost 'x million' dollars to make, and someone has to stump up those 'x million' dollars to get it from scripts and storyboards to the screen. Making a film, Tobias says with a very audible sigh, is so much more complicated than making a record, not least because the trust that an artist accumulates working in the music business doesn't necessarily translate to being trusted with a multi-million dollar film budget.

"The film had to go through discussions with finance people who were as curious about the content as you are," he says, diplomatically. "And let's just say that I sometimes struggled to convey what we were just talking about, and not everyone understood it. I'd be saying, 'Look, this is not really, you know, just us live from the Forum.' And they were like, 'Well, could you scrap the live show and just do a film about something else?' And I'd say, 'Well, that kinda defeats the purpose of what I'm trying to sell to you.' So that was a little bit weird."

The end result of such conversations was that no financial backer came onboard for the film, and Ghost and their management ended up funding the whole process - which, he says, ultimately simplified things. But the uncertainty meant that acclaimed Swedish filmmaker Jonas Akerlund - famously once a member of Bathory, and a creative visionary who's made music videos for the likes of Madonna, The Prodigy, U2 and more, as well as directing films such as Lords of Chaos and Spun - decided to step away from potentially directing the film to instead take on a co-producer role, and to advise Tobias as a friend.

In his place, as director, came American filmmaker Alex Ross Perry. He first saw Ghost opening up for Iron Maiden in New York in July 2017, at the conclusion of Maiden's North American tour for The Book of Souls, and subsequently directed the band's own 'mockumentary' Metal Myths, as well as the fabulously provocative promo video for the band's cover of Genesis's 1992 single, Jesus He Knows Me.

"He was obviously the right choice," says Tobias, "and a no-brainer to come aboard, because not only is he a very, very nice guy, but he also totally understands the band.

"Jonas was very involved with all the legwork beforehand, but when he stepped down as the director, and became a producer, it actually made things a little bit easier, because he became less stressed about it; all of a sudden he became calm, and just became my friend instead, pushing everything along. At no point did I feel like I'd bitten off more than I could chew, but the whole thing was definitely a huge learning experience.

"A lot of film studios sometimes struggle to comprehend something that isn't mainstream," he adds. "Like, it's not uncommon that you might want to make a film about, say, a historical event, and they would be, like, 'Hmmm, it's really depressing that the boat sinks in the end. Can it not do that?' And you're like, 'Well, no, the story is about these two lovers that meet on the sinking boat, and yeah, he dies in the end.' 'But that's so depressing! Can we make a different ending?' 'Er, No.' 'Well, we don't want to pay for that.' That's the sort of shit you're up against."

For Tobias, Rite Here Rite Now is clearly the biggest project that he's ever taken on, but Ghost fans shouldn't worry that they're about to lose their hero to Hollywood. At one point today, he mentions his work on the next Ghost album, specifically saying that he's "synchronising" his work on the film with the new record, so we may get an announcement on that sooner rather than later.

There remains one last matter to discuss. In each chapter of Ghost's journey to date, there has been death and renewal, with a new Papa coming along at the end of each cycle to replace the outgoing bandleader. And yet Papa IV was not killed off in Los Angeles. So, Tobias, is he going to transition into the next cycle?

A drawn out "Errrrrrrr…" comes through the speakers before an answer arrives.

"He will be with us, yeah. For a lifetime, if you will. As everyone is."

Okaaaaaay. But will Papa V also be appearing soon?

"I hope so."

At this point, the band's PR steps in to advise that we have one last question. So we ask if Rite Here Rite Now is close to the vision Tobias had in his head when he first embarked upon this ambitious undertaking.

"It's never, you know, 100%," he answers, "but pretty damn close. A lot of things that I think scared people in meetings a year ago, are things that I know that we pulled off. As an artist, people want you to dream big, but I always try to come up with things that are actually doable.

"Everything with Ghost is difficult and expensive, but the records are getting closer to what I imagine, and this film turned out pretty close to what I envisioned. And when I see the film, even I look at the show and go, 'That's pretty entertaining, that's pretty cool.' This is a film that you have not seen before. And you can all tell me what you thought when you see me next, OK?"

SIDEBAR ARTICLE 1: "I'M IN AWE OF TOBIAS!" Rite Here Rite Now director Alex Ross Perry explains how he helped Ghost's mastermind realise his vision.

[Accompanying photo: Another portrait of Papa IV in the gold jacket. His left hand is on his hip, his right gestures across his body, as though he is pointing to the sidebar. Caption: "Tobias has one helluva vision. Getting execs to understand it ain't easy!"]

[Inset photo: Alex Ross Perry looking off-camera to the right, as though he is staring at the photo of Papa next to him.]

Pennsylvania-born filmmaker Alex Ross Perry has a CV that includes helming music videos for the likes of Kim Gordon, Pavement, Sleigh Bells and Bully; writing, producing and directing acclaimed grunge/punk movie Her Smell; and creating Ghost's brilliant 2022 mockumentary, Metal Myths. However, he explains, working with Tobias Forge on Rite Here Rite Now was an experience like no other.

How did you and Tobias first come into one another's orbit? "I first saw Ghost opening up for Iron Maiden in New York, at the Barclays Center, seven years ago, and then I went on YouTube and had a lot of fun diving into their music videos. I'd done work for [Ghost's US record label] Loma Vista, and so I said to them, 'Nothing I've done is in the world of this band, but I'm a big fan, so if you ever need anything in the world of Ghost, my hand is raised.' And a couple of months later, I was asked if I wanted to create an official/unofficial Ghost mockumentary, streamlining the narrative woven into the band's story, and that became Metal Myths, which launched on April Fool's Day 2022."

How was that received? "I know that Tobias really liked what we did with that, and thought it was an amazing testament to his work and creativity. So then I was asked to curate an event at the Whisky A Go Go in Los Angeles to celebrate Ghost's Grammy nomination [for Best Metal Performance, for Call Me Little Sunshine], and we had some fun working on the Mary On The Cross [sic] 1969 era. While I was out in LA, we did the Jesus He Knows Me music video too, and I was told, 'We're doing a movie,' so I said 'Well, if you need any help, I'm here.'"

What did you make of Tobias when you first spoke to him? "I was, and am, a huge admirer of everything that he's built, so I was in awe of his creativity and the scope of his vision, and I remain so having now collaborated with him on this movie. He's one of the greats, in terms of the vision he has. He's a nerd, a repository for information and references to music history and film history, and that is incredibly rare. His vision has taken him so far in 10 years, and in 10 years' time it'll have taken him even further. My favorite band is Kiss, and Tobias might say the same, but they stumbled when they tried to branch out with [1978 TV film] Kiss Meets The Phantom Of The Park, whereas Tobias built a visual narrative into the Ghost solar system from the beginning. Working with him was constantly inspiring."

What was the most challenging part of the whole process for you? "It was just logistically very complex. It was challenging being at the Forum, shooting scenes that we were going to connect with scenes that we would be filming five months later."

How much creative input did you get to have, and how much were you able to bring your own vision to what was already mapped out? "I consider it a real collaboration between the two of us. His vision for the storytelling is crystal clear, but even though the A to Z is mapped out, there's so much room to discuss what happens from B to Y. You could just talk all night about that, and we did many times, like, 'Does this happen?' 'Is this joke funny?' 'Should this scene have no dialogue?' I took ideas that were not possible and turned them into ideas that are possible. We sat on his tourbus one month before the Forum and just talked until 4 or 5am about every story beat, every scene, every moment between the characters. It was such an amazing experience from start to finish."

SIDEBAR ARTICLE 2: "I'D SIT WATCHING FILMS ALL NIGHT, THEN HAVE A HORRENDOUS NEXT DAY IN SCHOOL!" Five flicks that fired the imagination of teenage cinephile Tobias Forge

[Accompanying photo: A third portrait of Papa IV in the gold jacket, staring directly into the camera and throwing the horns with both hands. Caption: "What the Devil will Tobias do next?"]

By his own admission, Tobias Forge is a film nerd, who watched "everything, all the time."

"I've always been very interested in cinema," he says. "As a kid, I'd watch everything that my older brother and his friends were watching, and as soon as I was old enough, I had a TV and VCR in my bedroom. I spent so much time in front of the TV playing guitar and watching films - French drama, comedy, horror, action, all kinds of films. I'd sit watching films all night, then have a horrendous next day in school! Anyone who has a record collection and video collection similar to mine will recognize lots of little references in our film."

Here are five films that regularly got slotted into the video cassette recorder in Tobias's teenage bedroom.

THE FUNHOUSE (Tobe Hooper, 1981) Tacky, violent and unpleasantly scary slasher flick set in a traveling carnival, directed by Tobe Hooper, who had produced, co-written and directed 1974's The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. A commercial failure, but one with cult appeal for fans of 80s 'video nasties'.

SCARFACE (Brian De Palma, 1983) Endlessly quotable and unrelentingly violent crime drama depicting the rise and fall of drug lord Tony Montana, played by Al Pacino. One of the most iconic gangster films ever made, referenced on countless gangsta rap records. All together now: "Say hello to my little friend!"

C.H.U.D. (Douglas Cheek, 1984) Schlocky sci-fi horror about murderous humanoids roaming the sewers of New York City. Ghost pal Dave Grohl was also a fan of the movie. His teenage band, Mission Impossible, recorded a song called C.H.U.D. with a chorus that ran: 'Chaotic Hardcore Underage Delinquents! Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dwellers!'

BETTY BLUE (Jean-Jacques Beineix, 1986) Impossibly intense French 'erotic psychological drama' featuring lots of philosophical musing, lots of steamy sex, and an inevitable slide into madness. A cult classic, which shifted tens of thousands of film posters to art and film studies students worldwide, it made 21-year-old Beatrice Dalle an international sex symbol.

LES AMANTS DU PONT-NEUF (Leos Carax, 1991) Another intense, wordy French drama about a doomed, obsessive love affair, staring a young Juliette Binoche as homeless artist Michele besotted with alcohol-and-pills-addicted wannabe circus performer Alex (Denis Lavant). The film went insanely over-budget and took forever to shoot; by the end, real-life lovers Binoche and Carax had split.

Copped the Ghost Metal Hammer so thought I’d share the contents for anyone who may not be able to buy it for themselves (the article and Tobias interview is Rite Here Rite Now spoiler free!)

Let me know if any of the photos are bad quality and I’ll re-take them!

[eepesleepy]

The first one that I remember: I was back in high school and Caleb Pressley was my history teacher. At least, he was supposed to be teaching history. Instead, he was piss-drunk. At one point, he tripped on the way to the whiteboard and had to grab a hold of the eraser tray to drag himself up off the ground. Once he was on his feet, he started a lecture on the fine art of salesmanship. He wrote "Always be closing" on the whiteboard, then replaced "be" with "losing" and brought "closing" to the front of the sentence so the sentence read, "Closing always losing." Then he went on some tangent about how closing was actually the worst thing to do in a sales interaction because closing meant the potential to lose. Instead, he said to relentlessly sell until there is absolutely no doubt that you've won. Then close. Then my high school crush stood up and accused him of drinking and that was the end of that dream.

The next dream I had I woke up in the middle of the night at the family lake house. I was staying there alone because I was going to college and commuting from the lake house. I went down to the basement to get some water. As I came out of the laundry room, I heard breathing. My body froze up. I was supposed to be alone. All the doors were locked. I knew there was no one else there with me. I called out, "Hello?" but there was no reply. My legs were numb, but I managed to haul them into motion, dragging one foot in front of the other until I was just outside the door to the nearest bedroom. There was definitely the sound of breathing, so I forced myself to open the door. My heart was in my throat. My head was throbbing with fear. I could just make out a shape under the comforter. Someone was asleep in the bed. "Hello?" I breathed, barely able to speak over my terror. "Hello?" I said as I inched closer to the bed. "Get up!" I managed as my throat closed up. The person rolled over and suddenly it was morning outside. Sunlight shot through the sliding glass door. The stranger sat up. He was fully clothed, including a jacket and a beanie. His face was rough and weathered, but he was still young, looking to be in his early twenties.

"You need to get out," I said. He gibbered something and reached for the nightstand. There was a wallet and a folded piece of paper. He grabbed the paper and handed it to me. It turned out to be multiple papers. They explained how this man suffered from various mental illnesses and needed someplace to stay.

I told him to follow me upstairs and we'd figure out what to do. He started talking at me but I couldn't understand what he was saying. I kept trying to read the papers but I couldn't get far with him blabbering on. I managed to read, "Why I have a long knife" on one of the pages and I immediately went into fight or flight. I went to the kitchen phone and as I picked it up to dial 9-1-1 a van pulled down the drive outside.

A family poured out. A man, a woman, three kids. They all walked up the porch steps and right through the front door like they owned the place. The man patted the other stranger on the back and said something about him being his son.

The woman started unloading groceries onto the counter and the man informed me that they'd be staying indefinitely. I was stunned. "You absolutely are not," I said, "I'm calling the police."

"Fine," the man said, "I'm calling them too." Outside, more cars were pulling in and more people were piling into the house. I dialed 9-1-1 and stepped out onto the back porch. I guess the call went directly to an officer because I could hear sirens in the background and the officer seemed out of breath. He told me he'd come as soon as he could but there were a lot of calls coming from the house so he'd have to get back up.

It was then that I started to fear for my life. The kinds of people that show up and just invite themselves into someone's house probably wouldn't have many reservations about eliminating the people whose home they were invading.

I ran off the back porch and down the hill into a bush. I looked back at the house. There were about fifteen people on the back porch, and a kid with a sawed-off shotgun was approaching the bush. He pointed it at the bush and I ran. He turned and shot.

Airsoft pellets pinged off my back. Relieved, I ran up onto the back porch and passed a dark-haired teenager sitting on one of the rocking chairs.

"This is the worst case of fraud homeownership we've ever done isn't it?" he asked someone near him.

Then I woke up.

[retrobutterflies]

Velvet Kisses | e.m.

Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: Your shitty job has you turning to your almost-boyfriend for help, making both of you admit the full extent of your feelings.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Slight Angst, Major Fluff, Semi-Established Relationship, A creepy man but nothing happens

A/N: This is my brain vomit.

There were few jobs in Hawkins that were desirable. Last year you worked at the 5 & 10 and your boss didn't understand that you couldn't work shifts before 3pm because of school so he fired you for showing up late to shifts you explicitly stated you couldn't work. Over the summer you were a camp counselor and had dealt with enough crying kids and kickballs to the face last you a lifetime. And your job at the minimart lasted all of three days before the former employee who you were replacing had come back begging for their job.

But working at the gas station had to be one of the better jobs you've had. It required little brain power, the most taxing job being wresting with the cash register that seemed like it was a hundred years old. Your boss was a kind man, paying you generously and forcing his son to drive you home at the end of your night shifts. And he even let you leave early if it was a particularly slow day.

That being said, you had never encountered so many walks of life as you had at your evening night shifts at Hawkins Oil. Young kids trying to see if you'd let them buy beer, raiding the snack aisle, and asking you strange probing questions like 'Have you ever been to Skull Rock?' Older patrons frequenting the back freezers and packs of cigarette lining the wall behind you. Some people asked for strangely specific amounts of gas to be put on their pumps and others counted their change down to the last cent as if you were planning on jipping them a nickel.

The worst, however, was the creepy men whose eyes lit up at a young girl working the night shifts. They would lean in close enough so you could smell the tobacco on their breath as they asked for a lighter or gum or whatever was behind the counter so you had to interact with them. And they would purposely brush your hand as they paid, making sure to ask you questions as you hurried through the sale as if it would prolong the conversation.

Your boss made sure to never have you working alone. Either him or his son would accompany you, staring down any strange man that tried anything. It was the reason you felt safe enough to work there. And you had never had any problems until today.

"I just need to leave ten minutes early. I'll do all the inventory and clean up. All you have to do is lock up once your shift is over." The owner's son Mikey was hard to say no to. His green eyes and swooping hair made him a complete sight for sore eyes and his continuous begging throughout the day about how important this date was tonight and how he couldn't be late or he'd never find true love made you acquiesce faster than you'd like to admit. And you wanted him to be happy you just didn't want to finish your shift alone.

"All the inventory?" you questioned as if you hadn't already made up your mind. His eyes lit up as he shook his head up and down.

"All of it. And you can leave ten minutes early on Monday," he added. You smiled. You were already going to say yes but you weren't going to argue with leaving early.

"Okay, fine. But you better fall in love," you said as he jumped up, scrambling to finish the inventory count so he could leave in twenty minutes.

"I'll tell this story at our wedding," he said, his grin highlighting his sharp cheekbones. You let out a laugh.

Twenty minutes came and went and soon enough Mikey was zipping out of there, his "See you next week!" fading until all you heard was the muted buzzing of the overhead fluorescent lights. You busied yourself with doodling on the discarded receipts, pen swirling in random patterns as you waited for the minutes to tick by. The ringing of the bell on the door had your eyes flickering up as a man wandered in. You didn't think much of it at first, continuing your aimless drawing as he meandered to the back freezer. But then he made his way up to the counter, making you jump as you noticed his proximity.

"That all?" you asked, straightening up as he placed the coke can on the counter.

"A pack of reds, too," he said after a moments hesitation. You nodded, turning behind you to grab the pack of Marlboro cigarettes. When you turned back, you couldn't help but notice the uncomfortable way his eyes lingered on you.

"That'll be $3.81." He nodded, pulled a five from his wallet, and slid it over the counter.

"You can keep the change," he said. You nodded, averting your eyes down to the cash register as you loaded in the bill. When he didn't leave, you glanced up at him feeling an uneasy prickling in the back of your neck at his stare.

"Do you need anything else, sir?" you asked. Maybe he was just tired. It was late and the sun had long set now, the only light illuminating the parking lot coming from the store.

"What time do you guys close?" he asked. It was an innocent question. Many people had asked you before and you didn't bat an eye. But there was something about this time, about him asking with his oddly piercing gaze that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

"Ten." It was quiet for a moment, neither of you saying anything else before he nodded, gave you a smile, and headed out the door. You watched him walk into the parking lot. He turned around halfway, eyes staring back at you. He smiled, again, and you felt your gut twist more. Then he walked to his car.

You waited with bated breath, waited for him to start the ignition and pull out of the lot. But the seconds ticked by and he wasn't leaving. You counted to sixty, then sixty again. Still the car sat motionless, shrouded in the darkness of the corner of the parking lot that the storefront didn't illuminate. Why wasn't he leaving? Why was he just sitting there?

You looked up at the clock, watching the big hand tick to ten o'clock on the dot. A sudden rush of dread flushed through you. Mikey had been your ride. In his excitement, neither of you remembered that he was supposed to drive you home. Your home which sat on the other side of town. Even if you wanted to walk it would take you nearly an hour. And looking at the car quiet and unmoving in the empty parking lot made the idea of walking a fool's mission.

You hopped up quickly, heading to the door to flip the lock. Even closer up you couldn't see the driver's seat of the car. If you hadn't watched the man get into it you would've believed it was abandoned.

"Shit," you muttered.

You walked back to the counter, grabbing for the phone as your eyes kept glancing back at the car as if it was finally going to leave. You called your house phone close to seven times. You knew your parents were staying with your grandparents but your good for nothing sister was supposed to be home. She wasn't even supposed to have plans tonight so why wasn't she answering.

You felt near hysterical as the phone went unanswered for the eighth time. You slammed the phone down, sending every curse under the sun to your lousy useless car-wrecking sister who was the whole reason you didn't have a car in the first place.

The car was still there and you still didn't have any way to get home. But like hell were you sleeping in this place. You gnawed on your lip, weighing your options before his face popped into your head.

Eddie Munson. You squeezed your eyes shut, wracking your brain to try and remember the combination of numbers of his landline. You had called him two days ago. It was written on a pink post-it note taped on your mirror. You stared at it every time you did your makeup. Grabbing the pen, you flipped over an un-doodled receipt and quickly wrote down the numbers you remembered. Four . . . nine . . . three . . . Come on.

You and Eddie had started seeing each other maybe three weeks ago. You weren't exclusive and you had only gone on a handful of dates but you did call each other often. You knew his number was somewhere in your brain you just had to pry it out.

Minutes passed by and your hope was dwindling exponentially until like a light bulb the number appeared in your brain. You quickly scribbled it down before you forgot and picked up the phone, punching the numbers in.

The phone rang and you nervously tapped the pen in your hand on the counter as you waited for him to pick up.

"Hello?" You had never been happier to hear his gruff rumbly voice.

"Eddie!" you breathed, smile over taking your face. You heard movement on the other end before he responded.

"Hi Sweetheart. I was wondering if you'd call," he commented. You could hear the smile in his voice, imagining him leaning onto his counter, phone pressed to his cheek.

"I was gonna, when I got home. But I'm still at work," you said. He let out a hum.

"Still working? Did you miss me that much?" he let out a soft chuckle. You would've laughed if you weren't so on edge.

"You wish," you replied, a smile working it way onto your lips. Just the sound of Eddie's voice had your anxious nerves settling a bit. "Um, are you doing anything right now?"

"Burning some Spaghettio's. Was gonna play a little guitar but," he cleared his throat as if he was suddenly nervous. You heard movement again, "Was kinda waiting for your call. Didn't wanna miss it."

The thought of Eddie loitering around the kitchen, eyes watching the land line waiting for your call had your stomach doing somersaults. You had had a crush on Eddie for the better part of a year, hopelessly pining from a distance as your social groups were miles a part. He was always so vibrant and engaging and it was hard to miss him around school. His big brown eyes, wild hair, and general disregard for societal standards had you roped in immediately but the thought of him liking you was still a foreign concept.

When he had admitted that he had been crushing on you for years before you finally started talking because of a group project, you nearly called him out on what you thought was a blatant lie. And he was adamant that the minute he saw you, sparkling eyes and witty tongue, he was sold. But your relationship was still new, unlabelled and fresh that you struggled with what was appropriate to say or do. Was it too early to be calling him every night? Could you admit you missed him when he was away?

Sometimes, however, Eddie would say something so indulgently sweet that it took your breath away for a minute and had you bursting at the seems with affection.

"Eddie," you knew your eyes were rounding, bottom lip pushing out as you felt your chest squeeze in adoration, "That was really cute. I was looking forward to calling you all day." Your admission had him humming contentedly, his wide smile so evident in his tone.

"Yeah? I kinda wish I could've called you yesterday but duty calls or whatever bullshit," he sighed, referring to his band practice that seemed to go into the late hours of the night despite Gareth's mother's disproval.

"It's okay. I know you're a busy man," you said, tracing the side of the phone as you pictured Eddie's smile.

"Not too busy for you," he let out a sheepish laugh before adding, "You could probably convince me to cancel any plan I had. Just to see you."

You felt your heart flutter.

"Stop being cute. You're distracting me. I need to ask a favor," you said.

"Ask away. The answer is already yes," he replied, voice rumbling happily over the static. He was going to make you pass away.

"Do you think you could pick me up from work? My sister isn't answering," you admitted, voice growing softer. Your eyes flickered back to the parking lot, watching the car that still sat motionless.

"I thought that Mikey kid was your ride?" he asked. If he picked up on your unease he didn't comment on it.

"He was. We kinda forgot and he left early for a date," you explained. He hummed again and you heard movement and the jangling of keys making your stomach uncoil.

"You know, I could be your ride home from now on. So you don't have to rely on loverboy," his tone was slightly sharper as he referenced your coworker.

"He's usually reliable. He got caught up in the excitement–"

"And ditched you," he interjected, huffing at his annoyance.

"He didn't mean to. I'm not mad at him," you reassured.

"Right, no, s'okay. He works tomorrow though, right?"

"Eddie," you warned but he let out a laugh.

"I'm only kidding. Partially. I'm on my way, though, so hang tight, okay? I'll be there in like ten minutes max."

You let out a breath, nodding though he couldn't see you. When you said your goodbyes you tried to visualize what Eddie was doing to distract yourself from the foreboding silence of the empty store; door swinging shut, car beeping, keys ratting, ignition starting.

True to his word, not even seven minutes later Eddie's truck was peeling into the parking lot. You had never been so happy to see his wonky rusted old truck. You hopped up, grabbing your bag and hurrying to the door. The keys jangled loudly as you locked up behind you. As you turned around, you were distracted from Eddie's wide smile as the lights from that godforsaken car suddenly turned on. You froze, watching the red car pull out, pause, and then drive out of the parking lot.

You knew he had been waiting for you. Waiting to see when you were leaving, how you were getting home, but to see it be proven made you feel a little lightheaded. Your eyes met Eddie's as he glanced over his shoulder at the retreating headlights in the distance.

"Who was that? Not that sorry punk Mikey," Eddie asked as you hopped into the passenger seat, dropping your bag to your feet.

"No, he–" you took a sudden shuttering breath that had Eddie's mood dropping significantly, "He was a customer. And he was being weird and he's been sitting in his car for the past half hour probably waiting for me to leave."

You had never seen Eddie this angry. His joking tone before about being mad at Mikey suddenly transforming into hot anger at the idea that he had left you alone for some creep to stalk you like you were his prey.

"I'm picking you up from now on, okay? You tell that son of a bitch if he does anything other than grovel at your feet for forgiveness I'm paying him a visit," he seethed, hand flexing so his rings glinted in the muted lighting.

You turned in your seat to face him, cheek resting against the headrest as you gazed up at him. His eyes were hard, jaw clenched tight and brows furrowed. You reached out a hand to cup his cheek, thumb stroking the high of his cheekbone until his face relaxed. He turned to meet your eyes, his own softening at the look you were giving him.

"I'm okay. I have a baseball bat tucked under the counter as a last minute resort," you assured, voice soft and melodic as he leaned into your palm. His hand reached out to grab your free one, linking your fingers together and squeezing.

"I don't like you being scared," he admitted.

"My fear turns to rage pretty quickly under pressure," you hoped some humor would lighten the mood and he managed to crack a small smile at your comment.

"You'll call me if you ever need anything, right?"

"Of course," you said. His eyes trailed from your abused your bottom lip from worrying it between your teeth to the tension set in your jaw.

His free hand moved up to caress yours, holding it tighter to his cheek as his other softly stroked your palm.

"I'll never let anything bad happen to you, you know that, right?" he said, eyes burning into yours, tone soft but firm. You felt a swell of emotion in your chest. You nodded but he seemed adamant to continue, like you didn't grasp the seriousness of his words.

"I don't care if it's a paper cut or a spider or if the president himself was bothering you, I'll handle it. You call me and I'm there," he pressed, leaning in closer so you could smell his smoky cologne.

You nodded again but your throat suddenly felt tight and your eyes were prickling with moisture. He clocked the tears instantly and he was leaning in, lips pressing to your forehead, hand moving to the back of your neck, weaving his fingers into the hair at the base of your head. He massaged it gently, lips trailing kisses down your temple, to your cheeks, on your nose, and finally to your lips. You didn't realize tears had fallen until he was swiping them away with his thumb.

Your free hand clenched the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as he pressed soft, comforting, sweet kisses on your face. His hand scratched your head, fingertips swirling in hypnotic circles until he was pulling back and stroking the hair out of your face. His lips found yours again, pillowy soft and warm as if they were forcing you to relax. The tension slowly eased from your body until your head felt light and your mind gooey.

All at once you wanted to say those three sacred words. You wanted to spill all of your feelings and emotions and tell him you loved him until the sun came up. You wanted to drown in him, kiss him until you didn't know your own name anymore. And you wanted him to know you were completely and utterly sold on him. He had ruined anyone else for you.

"You wanna come to mine?" he asked, his voice close to a whisper, breath fanning over your face as you wilted at the loss of his lips. You nodded, still unsure if you could form proper words, your head spinning with thoughts of him kissing you over and over again.

The drive was quick, his right hand sandwiched between both of yours as you watched the trees whir past the window. He gave you a few sideways glances, feeling his anger at your air headed coworker swirling in his stomach. But every brush of you fingers over his tense knuckles had him deflating until he was solely focused on you and your perfume and your pretty glassy eyes.

You had been in Eddie's room multiple times but most of them were to work on that school project. Only one other time had you been here after you had both admitted your feelings. And suddenly stepping into the muted lighting, eyes trailing over the myriad of band posters, piles of records and cassettes, a mountain of laundry, and his messy unmade bed had a wave of nervousness washing over you. Eddie sheepishly pulled his comforter up, haphazardly pushing a few shirts and a few books to the ground, clearing the space.

"You want a change of clothes?" he asked, pausing his movements to look at you. You blinked at him, bag already discarded by the door and nodded. You probably looked great in the polo shirt and plain jeans that your boss had you and Mikey wear for "professionalism" even though it was a gas station.

You could tell the Metallica shirt he had handed you was old because it was soft and well-worn, a few holes decorating the collar. You pulled it over your head, the material caressing your sides. You pulled on the boxers after, an unused pair he said bought in the wrong size and left to reside in the bottom of his drawer. You timidly pushed out the bathroom door, glancing down the dark hallway to where Eddie's uncle was snoring loudly on the couch before heading back to Eddie's room.

Only the bedside lamp was on now casting sleepy shadows around the room. Eddie was resting against the headboard of his bed, legs laid out, his own sleep shirt adorning his torso, rings discarded on the bedside table. His eyes found your form as you shut the door behind you, trailing up and down your clothes, his clothes, draped over your body. He had never seen anyone look so good in a T-shirt before and frankly he didn't think he ever would again. You were otherworldly to him.

Hesitantly, you crawled onto the bed, mattress dipping under your knees as you got closer. His arms instantly encircled around you, pulling you flush against him giving you no time to hesitate. You melted into him, his scent overwhelming you and his warmth fighting back the chill of the room. He pulled the duvet over the both of you, shuffling you down until you were laying before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

"I was talking to Steve," he said breaking the silence, his voice rumbling into your neck making tingles run up your spine. Your arms wrapped around his torso, cheek pressing against his forehead, eyes fluttering shut as you waited for him to continue.

"He likes to give dating advice. Mostly unsolicited," he murmured, the vibrations tickling your skin. His hand trailed up your side until it found the side of your love handle peaking out from your shirt. His fingers grazed it, swirling around the velvety skin making you squirm slightly at the tickling sensation. You felt his grin.

"It's mostly all crap. All of his experience is from his shitty douchebag days. Probably why he goes on such shit dates." He pressed a kiss to your throat, his other arm tightening around your back to pull you impossibly closer. You felt your mind go gooey again at his affection.

"He did say though that," he paused and you felt him take a steadying breath, "if I waited any longer to ask you to be my girlfriend that you'd think I didn't like you anymore."

It took you a moment to move the thoughts around in your molasses mind before you processed his words.

"Which is ridiculous because even Dustin Henderson has known I've been in love with you for years," he added, fingers dipping under your shirt to draw shapes on the ridges of your ribs.

"What?" you whispered, eyes opening. His movements paused as if he himself just realized what he said. You felt him tense, hand pressing flat against your side as he let out a sigh. You pulled away from him slightly. You could tell the instant the rejection settled in his mind, his body growing tenser as he pulled back to meet your eyes. His eyes were dark, filled with hurt and worry. He tried to pull back more but your tight grip prevented him.

"You love me?" He was quiet for a moment, eyes flickering between both of yours weighing his options. You shuffled closer, grabbing his hand and placing it on your waist again, a silent command to keep drawing shapes. He softened, shifting closer as he shoved his insecurities to the back of his mind.

"If," he started, brown eyes flickering around your face, gaging every micro expression to make sure you weren't uncomfortable with his words, "If it doesn't scare you away, then yes."

He leaned in closer, breath fanning over your face, minty and cool. "If it does, then I have no idea what you're talking about." His hand squeezed your side making you let out a laugh, squirming again as a smile overtook your face. He stopped, eyes hooded as he gazed at you and your pretty smile and your warm eyes.

"Can you say it?" your voice was small, smile loosening until you were staring at him with big, vulnerable eyes. He knew then that you weren't scared. You weren't dismayed by his feelings. By the glint in your doe eyes and the way you melted at his affection, he knew you felt the same way.

"You need to answer my question first," he decided. Your brows pulled together slightly as you tried to remember what he was referring to. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your pouted lips as if he couldn't help himself. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

You felt your face flush and your pulse spike. You nodded, pressing closer hoping he would kiss you again.

"With words, baby," he insisted, hovering his lips over yours, hand moving up to stroke the swell of your cheek.

"Yes," you breathed, feeling like you might never stop blushing.

He finally leaned in and pressed a searing kiss to your lips.

"I love you," he said, hand stroking your hair back so he could kiss you deeply again and again and again, repeating the phrase between kisses like he couldn't get tired of saying it.

"I love you, too," you managed to say before he was covering your lips again, greedy for your attention.

You felt dizzy at the intensity, love drunk on Eddie and his velvet kisses and sugary words. You didn't care that it had only been three weeks and that an English project that you both barely managed to get a C on had been the catalyst. You had loved Eddie for a year and he had loved you for more and you'd be damned if you waited any longer to tell him you loved him over and over and over again.

Link to my masterlist :)

[wisteriainslumber]

what types of students are the twst characters

in which i turn nrc into a public school

i cannot confirm nor deny my involvement in any of these scenarios

Warnings: swearing, cr*wley, mentions of drugs and alcohol, caters nicknames, and school

Riddle

i truly wish not even my worst enemy the pain of setting next to this boy

imagine getting back a test with 90% and feeling proud of it then the dude beside you gets a 98%

and this will happen for every assignment, test, group project

in fact, sitting next to him guarantees being paired up for projects together. the inferiority complex is building. this is truly the azul arc

you will get no sympathy from him. the project thats due in 5 days that you still havent started? what an irresponsible student. you reap what you sow.

truly makes you want to stab him with a mechanical pencil. maybe even get some lead stuck in there and make him think he’s poisoned

he has everything you could possibly need, including more miscellaneous supplies like staplers, hole punchers, highlighters, even compasses.

if you ask nicely he'll lend them to you but you best give them back by the end of the class lest you induce his wrath

people are more scared of him than they are of the teachers. most people dont believe the heartslabyul students when they say that riddle is nice to them

oh but he is. he tutors them and is thorough with it. he knocks on everyones door during lights out to say goodnight to them. no one forgets anything for school trips bc riddle quadruple checks.

has some busted ass phone. imagine some crunchy notifications sounds from it. it blares in the room in the middle of the lecture and its so funny every time

since then riddle keeps his phone out of the classroom or outright silences it. if you have an emergency, have it outside of class hours please and thank you

brings a million layers to school bc hes always getting cold and then hot two hours later can someone pls help him

oh but don’t underestimate him, even if hes sick on his death bed he will show up to class anyway. you know those kids that definitely got fever but their parents still send them to school? yeah, like jade needs to physically drag him into the infirmary before he gives up and reluctantly goes home to rest

lets hope its not exam season he will be hacking n’ coughing and sniffling miserably someone get this man a cough drop i think he just ran out

Trey

not up to date on the latest gossip but knows some of the weirdest, nichest shit around campus. literally this was stuff you didn’t even think you had to be warned about

warns you of the drug zones around the school and helps you stay clear of the places students usually hook up

warns you about that bathroom that got flooded because some kid took a shit in the urinal and clogged the pipes😍😍 dont go in there the evidence is still on the ceiling

also be mindful of the graduation plaques in the the student-dubbed “bl*wjob hall”. you do not want to know what the previous graduates did to them.

he will not bake weed brownies for you. stop asking.

in fact, you're not supposed to know he makes edibles

and no they are not for sale at his bakery. dont even try to enter.

gets the shit scared out of him every morning because lilia’s preferred greetings are unexpected and gravity-defying

all of treys classmates knows he’s in the classroom by the loud “GOODNESS, ME” every time lilia says good morning to him

rip to the science club. you got trey trying to magically grow plants and rook claiming he’s making a potion that has smoke machine effects

because a bunch of magical students with access to funky chemicals cannot result in anything good, the chances of the plant becoming carnivorous and that smoke machine causing hallucinogenic side effects is quite high

their club initiation can’t be anything other than making things grow and explode

“experiments” usually mean they’ve accidentally made chloroform. or any kind of corrosive substance. trey needs to dispose of it before it gets into some freshman’s backpack

Cater

he doodles on his notes, yes, but they are ✨on theme✨

his notes on the snow queens curse contain doodles of skulls and stick figures buried in the snow...

"adopts" freshman. says shit like "this is my freshie"

knows the latest gossip of the school but doesn’t really know a lot of people

lots of people know him though!! or of him

has nicknames for every professor and they are so horrid. no one deserves to hear the name “vargy daddy” (ironically, we hope) exit someones mouth. not even the rsa students.

sometimes uses the lesson board as his daily streaks, sometimes the profs catch him making winky faces for his photos

and because he refuses to sit anywhere but beside idia (or his tablet), he ends up in these selfies simply by association

cater got a failed test back and claimed prof trein was homophobic

this is even funnier for anyone that hcs cater being treins nephew

his posts keep going viral because he’s always there to film the rumoured nrc antics. he can kickstart an nrc-insider news career out of this

you get a notification that he’s live on magicam but no it’s lilia using caters platform to “sing everyone a lullaby”

on the bright side, it worked, they’re all knocked out. on the down side, it’s not as relaxing as lilia thinks it is

sometimes posts their band antics and hey that would’ve pulled a lot of people in but they are very put off by lilias singing

on the plus side though they are very good at synchronized dancing

clogs the hallways on occasion while filming on twisttok. move or you will be seen by his thousands of followers

might be my bias talking but idc, cater was at least a third of the student body’s gay awakening. hes got a personality that makes it hard not to like him, like what is there not to love?

say hi to him once and he will say hi to you until graduation. he will also introduce you to whoever he’s talking to at that moment

at the end of the semester you know at least half the people in this school

Ace

i dont care that this is a magic school, all freshman are sentient zoo animals that have escaped their enclosures

participated in the devious licks trend and got away with some of the wilder shit like stall doors and the graduates plaque from years ago?? (it was his brothers class)

he was the shit back in middle school and hes going to be an obnoxious freshman and claim you need his permission to sit at “his table”

canonically hes always involved in SOMETHING so all of the hot gossip around nrc is usually about ace

his constant beheadings has become an nrc inside joke and is used as a reaction image now

prime examples being "neiges lawyers after they see my y/n edits" or “me after vil’s team finds my account” from user vilsballsack

shortest player on the basketball team and grim will not let him live it down

ace frequents ramshackle the most and his mischievous nature combined with the ghosts’ means lots of rude awakenings

not even the standard bucket on the door pranks, ace goes above and beyond with them. they range from whoopee cushions to the most elaborate traps, with dominos and strings triggering everything

just wait until you hear about april fools day, bro. karmas a bitch :/

at least he buys you a weekly coffee </3 he complains but will be pissed if deuce buys you one instead

fighting for his life trying not to laugh during sex ed

he plays with those cpr dummies like how you imagine children play with dolls

smashes them against each other, establishes the darkest kind of hierarchy, and his favourite thing to do is twist the heads off the bodies

he gets it from the queen housewarden rosehearts🤩

he and deuce whisper so loudly that they disrupt the class so they’ve resorted to very obvious note passing

every crinkle of paper stomps on the profs nerves but it’s better than hearing whisper-debates over whether glitter gel pens are manly or not

bluetooth connects to the announcement speakers to play WAP. sigh. 

for any band kids out there, he is a trumpet player. i think that says enough

Deuce

vaped in the washrooms for a month thinking he was cool before he reformed himself

thought it was so funny to lie about his name at the coffee shop but keeps giggling and being weird about it. the baristas know “divus” is definitely not his name

plus, the campus shops are more likely than not run by students or staff. literally everyone knows who divus is and he’s never had blue hair and pronouns

is in the centre of every single fight that happens in this school. he has not missed a single match to scrap with the other freshies

even his seniors are shivering in fear

thought it was funny to draw dicks on every desk he sat in

influenced some dorm members to draw dicks on their faces claiming it was Heartslabyul-issued makeup

needless to say he didn’t get away with it for long

cannot leave his phone unattended with ace. the last time he did, ace switched up his charger settings so the phone was robotically moaning when deuce put it in the charging port

calls his momma every lunch time to make sure she ate

somehow got adopted by the cafeteria ghosts and he occasionally gets free cookies or coffees

rode a skateboard to school and hid it in his locker. got caught two months in because sebek was yelling at him for bringing a skateboard to school

finds a way to tear up at any kind of movie or documentary displayed in class. hes just so moved. 

but bro if he gets clowned on one more time by grim, he’s really gonna burst out the waterworks

once got so sick of grim he started barking at him. epel refuses to delete the video

asks you to wake him up if he dozes off during magic history. you get wracked with guilt every time you steal him away from dreamland

Leona

didn’t go to class for like 4 months and then shows up after everyone in the class declared him dead

directly sassing his teachers and unfortunately he is very funny

only one he can’t get away with is crewel because crewel will hit him and turn him into a designer rug

doesn’t bring notes, doesn’t even bring a pencil. he’s repeated these lessons twice, he already knows everything

because he already learnt it before he can get away with sleeping and answering their questions just fine

his profs are mad. its not misconduct if the student is in fact, aware of the material

they did him so dirty putting rook in the same class as him. this is actually great for the profs when he decides to come to class because he refuses to sleep in rooks presence

threatens to claw out rooks face if he dares to sit next to him so rook sat behind him :)

learns broken french against his will. learns whos nicknames correspond with who against his will.

if ever partnered up with rook, leona finds out that rook wasnt taking notes at all. all that typing was done on magic of our own and the pen scribbling was a doodle of leona

lord knows what stopped him from turning rook into dust

(it’s because epel will be sad if rook is gone)

doesnt believe in calculators he's a mental math god but only when he wants to be

beware if anything remotely sexist that catches his ears. he will call you out. in front of everyone. who said women sucked at games? they’re lucky his sister in law isn’t playing. her favourite game happens to be predator vs prey :))

violates academic honesty but sucks at it. he copies and pastes, puts it in a paraphrasing bot, then translates it in 10 languages, and puts it on the page. no formatting or anything. 

if the profs uses those plagiarism checkers, leona is getting caught 100%

do not ask him if he can talk to lucius, you will become a missing persons case

Ruggie

knows everyone on school grounds

you might think it’s cater, or azul, but no, it’s ruggie and i can’t explain it

has most likely club-hopped until he settled for magift. he knows quite a few buddies here and there, so if ur ever looking for someone, ruggies the one to ask. if not directly, he can give you leads on your search

shows up to record the fights that deuce gets into but will not join them. hes here for the drama, not to get into them

violates academic integrity. he gets so fucking creative with it. hes the one making homemade water bottle labels or creating a whole new code (disguised as battle scars on his arm) so it looks like hes not cheating

listen he will find a way to cheat if he doesnt know. its all in or nothing

work smarter not harder <3

he’s basically on the clock 24/7 with leona and his other odd jobs. sometimes he doesn’t have enough time to study, but he sure has time to create a new language as a fail-safe. it’s called being resourceful >:(

kid who uses calculator to check simple things like 2 + 3 but can find the circumference of a box using only a formula and the fortitude of his mind????

bro is literally so resourceful, can take the most simplest things and turn them into masterpieces. he is exactly like those people that can create edits, theories, and fics out of a character that was seen for 5 minutes

magishift disk got lost? he’s already found a frisbee. or you can use this notebook. it’s rectangle but if it works, it works, right?

1 inch of snow? no problem he’ll make a sturdy fort for you to hide under during snowball fights

profs thought he dyed his hair blonde in rebellion but no hes just born like that. his hair just got darker as he grew leave him alone pls :( it’s all natural :((

pen flicker and he knows it. absolutely defying the laws of physics with the aerodynamics of his pen. it ends up being more entertaining than the actual lesson

sneaks snacks into classrooms but he’s quiet enough about it that no one really cares

so dont try to snitch on him for a corn chip you aint gettin one

no he does not sell drugs on the down low who told you that?

don’t remove his sunglasses he needs them. is he what? oh, hi.

Jack

had a kiddy crush on the queens for a year

they’re so hardworking, and knowledgeable, and talented, like he really looks up to them

turns out he didn’t want to date them he just wanted to be them fr

would be a very good influence on his friend group if they weren’t even worse when combined together

at least he’s a good influence on epel. or at least that’s what vil tells him

not really causing trouble but since he hangs out with the first years, he's in trouble by association

this is the fifth time grim has gotten stuck in the vents playing real life among us and jack is running out of excuses

gives epel a look of disapproval every time he catches his name in kahoot

accidentally learned many countryisms and swear words he didn’t even know existed

any time epel fails a test or had a fight with vil, jack adds to his forbidden vocabulary

invites epel to his 6AM runs with vil and he occasionally joins, but ultimately epel enjoys sleeping in, says that he must sleep enough hours to trigger his growth spurt

got to demonstrate his knowledge in first aid when deuce took a nasty fall during club activities. was the most excited to plaster the patterned bandaid on him but don’t say anything about it >:( bros got an image to protect

gained a new appreciation for musicals from ortho’s influence. he likes six the musical the most obviously

minds his business the most. he doesn’t give a shit if you fell on your ass during flight. he’ll help you up, check that you’re alright, and go on about his day, no further comments

so for anyone who is easily embarrassed, jack’s your bestie now

Azul

most pretentious bitch in the class for two reasons

1. always has some extra curricular activity going on and will not stfu about it

2. always has something to add to the lesson or story and will not stfu about it

for anyone thats read jamils lab story, it’s exactly like that. azul will comment on everything, bring out his observations, will constantly pester u & try to pick apart ur brain

not in a scientific way, he just wants to crack into the cool knowledge inside. bros a nerd (affectionate)

by the end of the first week you will want to push his head in the cauldron & not let up until he slowly goes limp

please don’t give him any debate assignment. he’s about to tear out heartslabyul student B over the worth of cryptocurrency

(it’s nothing. it’s worth literally nothing.)

has a stack of business cards for mostro and will hand them out to anyone who shows the slightest interest in azul himself

rip to any one of his classmates that may have harboured a crush on him because azul is nothing if not his own biggest cockblocker

for some reason, he can bend the power of time to his will considering he had the time to control the odds of rolling dice while still attending to all of his after-school activities

every board game meeting is idia being horrified at azul’s extra-ness or azul getting clowned to hell by idia himself

they are so mean to each other but will hiss if you try to pry them apart

bro works two jobs, a student and a restaurant manager. how the hell is he doing all this and still #2 in his grade who knows. the grind never stops and his pronouns happen to be work/hard

don’t be fooled though, behind closed doors he is getting his glasses taken away from him by the twins so he can fucking REST. can’t do ur work without your sight!!

ofc they don’t tell him that though they just embarrass azul by either staring at him “innocently” until azul decides to leave (jade) or threaten to whack him with a frying pan until he falls asleep (floyd)

Jade

in the first year he smashed floyds head into poor idias locker and the huge dent is still there to show for it

the profs permit him to snack in class bc he brings “healthy” choices like carrots and apples. 

eats them so menacingly too. stare at him too long and he stares right back, then takes a giant, violent crunch on his snack.

smiles innocently at them even though he’s well aware of the fear in his fellow students eyes

can not incriminate him. hides all traces of his involvement for issues he enabled. 

unless it’s his weekly brawl with his brother on school grounds. “we’re twins, we fight all the time” is not a valid excuse to chase each other down the halls with metal forks

cracks a joint when floyd punches someone so they can convince the student that floyd broke his nose. serves them right for talking shit

doesn’t join in on the fight. you might think this is a good thing but having jade stand by and encourage your pain as you’re getting your shit rocked hurts even worse than the punches

crewel cannot pair jade with any student besides riddle. he’s an enabler. people listen to him either because they’re scared of him or they don’t know better. what was supposed to be a “good idea” to mix vials E and F turns into accidentally (?) creating mustard gas

when you chat with him you find out hes one of those insane sims players that tortures their sims for fun

he genuinely thinks that how youre supposed to play the game

no he’s not shroom hunting on his mountain hikes. he’s genuinely just living his cottagecore dreams. he cherishes the little mushroom mug he got from riddle. it even has a cute lid :)

he never confirms nor denies these accusations, however

if anything, he will turn it on the other party. what do you mean you think he’s collecting magic mushrooms??? he’s never even seen one :((

was the reason the school had to implement a ban on permanent markers. he kept sniffing them and got sent to the nurses office for it. now whenever some students want to skip class or out of pure curiosity, they sniff until they get sick

Floyd

that fucking maniac when his pen runs out of ink during a test he bites himself and uses the blood as ink and doesnt bat an eye at it

plays the game of switching classes with jade but it doesnt last very long because "jade" is suspiciously doing too well in flight class

treats dodgeball like a carnival game. whips that shit so hard at you, you’re convinced you’re leaking spinal fluid

if he’s feeling real freaky he’ll freeze the snowballs a little before throwing them :D

loudly opening and eating chips in class

when trein scolds him hes handing out gummy bears to his classmates in front of his face

sits in the front row just to nap there. hes got so much audacity and zero fear

lectures last 3 hours. perfect time to watch a movie. hes giving the classmates a free streaming party

sometimes hes just laughing to himself while taking notes. or maybe he’s texting who knows? 

unsafe during potionology have you seen his lab card

comments on the drinkability of every chemical

god forbid you ever do a dissection bc hes gonna be saying the most ravenous shit

"that eyeball kinda be looking juicy" my ass

can he maybe like eat before class for everyones sanity

takes any dare from jade as a challenge, and if he succeeds, then he gets to make jade do smth for him

most of the time he declares himself as the eldest sibling™ and jade just has to accept it

if it was unclear, a lot of their fights consist of who is the godly privileged eldest sibling and who isnt

the rest of the time he makes jade show up to class in some clown shoes and laughs at the squeaky sounds coming from jade’s footsteps

pencil chewer. and eraser stabber. just keep the magic pen away from his mouth

Kalim

drew flowers and hearts and sparkles around his war history notes

its his standard for all his notes

brings in whole ass meals in his class and shares it with his seatmates. it smells amazing

shows up to class with random shit every day. if he’s making his own day, why not make everyone elses day too, u know?

he has this huge stuffed rabbit that he lugged around class one day. it’s named peter. it has its own seat.

once brought a bunch of balloons and blew them up in the middle of the lecture?? he had time to draw faces on them? one is him, one is jamil, etc, etc

silver gets one of those balloons that kalim drew on. look! it’s purple, like your eyes!

brought bubbles to school and had a rave in the courtyard

initiates snowman building parties but most of the time they don’t work out because these rambunctious nrc students will destroy the snowmen after class

(jamil will secretly repair these snowmen so kalim doesn’t find out octavinelle student A kicked a hole through frosty jr’s chest)

shares his scratch and sniff stickers with his classmates. there’s some whacky scents in there and honestly most of them smell foul

kalim knows this and ofc warns people beforehand. although, which ones smell good and which dont? sniff and find out ig

at least his presentations are the most entertaining. they’re extra as hell like he would sooner coordinate an entire skit than present normally

chances are he ends up improving some stuff because he forgets his lines rip. fortunately it is fun to make up a skit with kalim so, 9/10 for his groupmates, minus 1 point bc he sent them all in cardiogenic shock from his grand ideas. how in the world are they going to get, or even train an elephant for science????

if doing some kinda powerpoint, takes advantage of those fun transition effects and funny pictures. they may not be 100% relevant to the topic but he wanted you to see this baby koala anyway

Jamil

24/7 talking to himself in his head so he can have an intellectual conversation for once

when being particularly annoyed, he imagines the students or even the school burning. it oddly soothes his mind

avoids the window seat if the window is open. one too many bug accidents. there’s only so many tables jamil can char before he gets in trouble.

watch him pull out a hazmat suit when it’s time for flight class in june. fucking wasps.

pen flicker. he isnt aware he does this but its pretty cool to watch

see, jamil shares a class with azul. and with azuls annoying ass attitude and even more annoying twins tailing him, he’s resorted to keeping a pair of headphones on him at all times

do people not understand? if he’s sitting alone and has headphones in, it means he doesn’t want to talk!! cough cough take a hint

his only joy derives from watching the smug ass grin on azuls face disappear when he’s on a broom

long since stopped trying to reason with his fellow basketball club. ace can deal with floyd, he’s here to do his part and leave

unless they’re playing a match with another school. then get ur ass up, jamil is Competitive and wants the win for himself 

while his phone is on silent, the screen is always lighting up bc kalim loves to blow up his phone with messages

he can’t mute kalim in case the dude gets himself in a problem, so he’s dealing with links and images of dolphins while his class is learning about the components of pixie dust

rarely responds to these but will send occasional “cool”s or “kalim please focus in class” texts

the secret thing is, he is very fascinated by these links. educates himself with dolphin trivia, or whatever topic kalim has been interested in lately, for their future conversations

but he'd rather get buried alive than say that to his face

Vil

creative as hell he will find script ideas out of every class hes in (just like me fr <3)

smells so good. unbelievably good. its probably his own fragrance. it’s not on sale yet.

half the school has a crush on him but no one is brave enough to approach him like cater is

celebrity status AND dorm leader? thats like VIP status on top of VIP status. understandably, few try to approach him with further intentions than a fan/classmate

not cater though! he says he wants to take a pic with vil for the clout but thats definitely a farce. vil knows it, and cater knows vil knows it.

he got them teacher heels. you know those? you hear him long before you see him and you fix up your behaviour too. the power of those teacher heels.

non-pomefiore students either hate them or are so damn jealous of them. you’re getting coached by the vil schoenheit?? you get to see his face and hear his voice every day????

vil’s seen too many people sneak in and try to pass off as his dorm members. he’s amused but like, you can visit you know? just make sure to inform your dorm leader and go back before curfew. 

highly advises these students to leave everything as they found it. no dorm would tolerate students who cannot pick up after themselves

if somehow, these brave ass students ignore this advice, vil’s making them wash all 200 of pomefiores windows. inside and outside :) yes, this also includes the mosiacs

if you get this man for a presentation project, you’re either extremely lucky or very unlucky

on the bright side, he can lead a lot of the spoken parts but dont expect him to do it all. he expects you to know your parts and speak clearly

on the bright side again, he’s very thorough with research and citing. your profs love him

on the down side you cannot last minute rush this, if you were thinking of it. while he allows some leeway because emergencies and life happens, he will hunt you down so it will be finished at least a day prior. that is a threat.

Rook

knows your entire natal chart

serves u personal asstrology horoscopes. says shit like “your dad is back in your life because mars is in retrograde” and he’s right. why is mars doing the renagade and why is it so powerful???

draws the most detailed, obscure abstract art or the most realistic rendition of a real life object no in-between

was so excited to see leona in his class he has so much to tell him about his day, and what vils doing, and what new discovery science club made that week, and the pretty birds he saw this morning-

confidently writing his neige/vil fanfic in class. or self insert. really doesn’t matter because its actually written so beautifully he could convert you to any kind of ship or belief

in fact he most likely submitted fanfic for an assignment and gaslit the profs into thinking he went above and beyond what was required of him

this is an artistic vision, a romantic metaphor for the tale of the sleeping kingdom. the curse is actually symbolized through her crown!!

in the autumn he picks up a random leaf from the ground and it’s his muse for the day. you look over and theres some kid with a leaf on his desk? don’t mind him

reported on the first week for crawling around on all fours to get the optimal photo angle 

he still crawls around for the photo he’s just sneakier now

a kid who got exposed to creepypasta and has never been the same since

he has the old deviantart account to prove it

unintentionally kickstarts so many rumours because no one knows anything about his life before nrc

there’s ongoing theories that rook is secretly a vampire, or a descendant of royalty, or an undercover spy

the rumours were the worst during his freshman year because his behaviour was jarring to most students. rook had celebrity syndrome then, where people think he’s dating everyone he interacts with

though, self nicknamed “hunter of love”, confusion is bound to happen. does it mean homewrecking? harem collecting? matchmaking?? no one knows and no one is brave enough to find out

the joint cracker in class. leona hates him so much. one more crack and rook is gonna end up on the news

Epel

a little bit emo, bros been going through it all year give him some time

has and continues to paint his nails black but switched to colours in the second year

calls his phases in his life “eras” and whoever he was two months ago is not him anymore!! the past is NOT today!

found a way to shake the vending machine to get the snacks to fall down

the loud ass freshie during lunch. believed he was too cool for the cafeteria and ate in the halls

unfortunately he is once again, Too Loud and gets scolded by the teachers a lot

feral. absolutely feral. he has bit people and they have the bite marks to prove it

misgendering? insulting his friends? just overall being disrespectful? square up bitch.

the first years have a hard time wrangling in epel and deuce. pray for them.

still initiates snowball fights even after they got banned because the ignihyde students built machines to mass produce snowballs

jerked off the dildo they were supposed to practice putting a condom on. vargas is so so so disappointed

has an ungodly amount of deodorant in his bag and all of them are from vil

does he use them? hell no, they smell like old people. he has his own max spray. what do you mean it smells bad? this is what manly macho men smell like you wouldn’t get it

kicked a broken soap dispenser into the toilet. when asked, he’ll tell you that he doesn’t know what came over him

competitive in kahoot because he has an inappropriate username

nothing screams victory like standing on the 1st place podium as "ben dover"

being classmates with him is like, this dude next to you is making a portrait in minecraft pixel art??? what does this have to do with the god of mischief’s reign???

gotta admit it tho, he’s pretty damn talented.. wait what was the prof saying again😅?

Idia

theatre kid

but like, stage crew theatre kid

once hes got the drama kid complex in him, everyone whos not in the drama program are instantly peons to him

they just arent as fun, they dont understand the references, and they are overall total normies

attends class through his tablet most of the time so, in that era we had of online school, i think we all know idia was not actually paying attention

100% muted his classes to catch up on the episodes he missed

lectures? sure sure, he’ll record them and take notes later. now shh he’s hiding behind his laptop screen to play rhythm games. wheres the mute button irl???

starts attending class more frequently to bond over rhythm games with cater. if you hear two people in the back speaking some foreign language it’s probably them.

in fact im pretty sure that only these two will be able to understand each other with whatever strange terms and lingo they pull out of thin air

ortho is very very happy about this

one time in the bathroom, when he went to get soap to wash his hands, the fucking dispenser fell from the wall

went thru the 5 stages of grief and panic, and ended up fleeing and stressing if he would be caught and fined for this. officially the worst day of his life fr

if it was that rusty to fall from the wall, you can only assume that these people don’t wash their hands often

have you seen his lab card he’s about to drink chemicals

then again, he’s an energy drink person, so i suppose that unidentified lab chemicals arent the worst thing he’s put in his body

actually legally cannot talk to anyone because he gets overcome with a terrible affliction: he gets a crush on them :(

two days of saying hi to each other and idia is already imagining a fancy proposal

cant take that bitch anywhere

Ortho

barges into idias lectures to deliver him lunch because HE ALWAYS FORGETS IT.

sometimes he just sits and joins the class. can it be considered auditing?? hes certainly not taking notes hes just vibing

do you know who built him?? his big brother knows everything💕💕 so therefore ortho also knows lots of stuff :))

even takes the tests in that class and gets 90s on each one

all of idias classmates have such a hard time trying not to give the ortho pat pats

except cater he gets free reign because he’s always sitting by idia. they bond over music and ortho introduces synthetic tune ideas for their next club practice

unfortunately now ortho also has to remind cater to pls eat lunch. no, you cant live off on instant ramen and coffee-

freshman are escaped lab subjects and ortho is already pretty violent on his own, so ortho being a violent escaped lab subject is Not A Good Mix

don’t worry though he is very tame just don’t insult his friends

why only his friends? oh, you won’t be alive to insult his brother :)

jk, if you insult his brother you will be stuck on the “verifying file integrity” screen on 98% forever

with a gift of “lauren wants to play ;)” popup ads for life

if you really fucked up his beam is already 80% charged and ready for eradication

tinkers a lot with idia, so you will find some pretty snazzy gadgets in his bag that look straight out of a spy movie

laser pens, glitter bombs, and tracking devices!

the more dangerous gadgets are already programmed into his person, so don’t worry, these gadgets are just toys :D

the other first years get their hands on the pen and graffiti drawings of cr*wley as the princess sofia the first are engraved on the side of the school building

cr*wley does not recognize this as the insult it is, he’s “touched that his students think him worthy of princess status”

Malleus

no proof that he is even on school property

sometimes shows up to his classes, sometimes doesn’t, but it’s enough to guarantee a pass into the next grade

you know those kids that just stick by their mothers? yeah he’s either that with lilia or nowhere at all

once had almost tripped down the stairs and instead of facing that shame he decided to hover down

if you see some random dude hovering around don’t mind him he just Does That

has a notebook to jot down ideas for his next self-published book on gargoyles

he has so many ideas and is so passionate. hes just brimming to the lid with lore someone pls talk to him

casually talking to gao gao dragon and making doodles of his friend. takes him out on walks and shows him all the cool statues

was delighted when you got urself a tamagotchi so gaogao dragon can have a friend

grim is less than amused but knows better than to diss malleus

god forbid you ever be put in a group project with him you will not be able to reach him ever. you get his part in about 3 hours before your presentation. 

the rare times he gets to join the dorm leader meetings he spaces out a lot. his head is in the clouds bro 

when he’s back on his walks he loves to reiterate to lilia what he saw or what happened. sometimes questions about things he hears. whether lilia gives him a proper answer or not is up for debate

“I believe I saw a rainbow today. We don’t have those back at home, I wonder why that is.”

“There’s a story that the leprechaun fairy lurks at the end of these rainbows searching for a game of tag. Anyone who catches him gets one wish granted.”

“Hm, I’ll have to venture to the end of the rainbow next time to meet this ‘leprechaun fairy’. He would be a wonderful birthday present for Silver.”

Lilia

addresses the teachers by their first names and gets away with it

not because the teachers are okay with it, but because lilia speaks like hes sm older than them. sometimes even the profs feel obligated to call lilia “sir”

the diasomnia dorm members see lilia with a new variation of “#1 best dad” mugs, hats, and shirts every week. he says they’re gifts but who is giving them???

lilias got two pairs of the exact same shoes in two different colours so he can mix and match

lilia also bought two different shoes to mix and match. and by mix and match i mean hes got crocs on his left foot and converse on his right

not like anyone can rlly pay too much attention to it. his shoes are the least of ppls concerns bc hes ALWAYS UPSIDE DOWN

attends silver’s and malleus’ parent teacher interviews as their dad and refuses to take any objections from the staff

accidentally created life during the culinary crucible and jade wanted to keep the crawling little slug of mystery for his terrariums 

since that day, lilia has Officially been banned from taking the class again

everyone but lilia is aware of this ban

casually doing assignments while under the influence with full confidence

worst part is is that he gets better grades while doing this bc his sober self is even more nonsensical than his drunk or high self

history class is so funny. it’s like they took the history and made it into a childrens play: censored, skirting around words, along with fake propaganda!

casually drops the craziest lore in history. hes "correcting" trein on his lessons and informing him that the queen of Andalasia was not even from their world. her magic portal connects to a world with dimensions and laws more outlandish than that of the Queen of Hearts

lilia does not clarify which world this is nor how he knows. source: just trust him

knows alumni from way back. these alumni in question have no clue who the hell lilia is

NRC reunions consist of lilia greeting people like they’re friends and the alumni pick apart their brains trying to “remember” this alleged classmate of theirs

Silver

has perfected the technique of silent snoring

it doesn’t matter that there are 4 espresso shots in his cup he’s still zonked out by 3rd period

ofc he tried a method of putting in headphones and playing some metal music but the music was so loud thru his pearpods it was disrupting the class </3

deliberately sits next to kalim to see if his energy can rub off on himself and it worked for the first...30 minutes

yeah, kalim has a lot of energy but you know what he also has? a nice voice. snork mimimimi

he puts in extra effort to stay awake before animal linguistics however

doesn’t really need animal linguistics to understand his critter friends, but the more he learns how to communicate with them, the better, right?

when silver forgets his notes, a few moments later, a bird is delivering the sheets to him

they may not always be the right ones, but awww that’s adorable

always keeps nuts, seeds, and fruit in a little tupperware container for his furry friends <3

very passionate about environmental safety and care. if he catches you littering he will remind you why he’s mastered the art of the sword

attracts so many animals he even attracted this cat beastman. he’s purple! they just started talking and really hit it off

silver doesn’t know his name but leaves notes by his window for him. they keep exchanging notes like penpals :D

sometimes the notes even float towards him and boom, the kitty appears!

only person who knows about his penpal is lilia and lilia is acting so cryptic about the cat’s identity???

silver wonders if he can fit in a locker and he definitely let the intrusive thoughts win bc he climbed inside and closed the gate. 

sebek locks the lock for silver to get the “full experience” but it’s been 20 minutes and he doesn’t know how to blast open the locker without hurting silver

honestly tho, it kind of feels like those coffins from orientation. don’t mind him. if he can tune out sebeks voice, the dim lighting and enclosed space feels very comforting in a crib kind of way

Sebek

this goes one or two ways: he shouts the answers instead of putting his hand up or he raises his hand before speaking long after graduating

librarians hate him but he does have marvelous taste in books

he would be fantastic at writing essays because he has so much to say and is very opinionated 

english teachers love him, his classmates dont!

sometimes lilia tells sebek stories about the past and his only source was “ive been there” but the “a” in “a. liddel” did not stand for ass. his profs scolded him for saying it. lilia explain pls

hes way too gullible. keep him away from jade

never start anything with "did you know", you will find sebek drinking powerade and monster to test the rumour that you could grow wings if you combined them

took a dare to be handcuffed to jack for the day. the first years blew it up on magicam, its a trending nrc challenge now. 

but at least jacks good influence is rubbing off on sebek. hes more mindful of jacks sensitive hearing but that won’t stop him from dragging poor jack around the school looking for malleus

his phone is always going off in class. its not that he doesnt know how to silence it, he needs to keep it on in case of emergencies with malleus😡😡😡

the friend that tells you all your crushes are ugly and out of your league. 

he’s had a lifetime of having to see silver’s terrible taste in people

and malleus’ no taste in people, as he should

actually, it’s just his adopted brother that has shit taste in people. up your standards, silver, love at first sight doesn’t exist

personally victimizes scarabia student B for distracting you from your studies

if it’s not jack, sebek is the mom friend

speaking of moms, he bonds with deuce over loving their moms <3. they brag about their moms in the most loving way possible

yells at ace for calling them mamas boys and tells him that he will be struck by lightning on 3:02AM on a thursday

at exactly 3:02AM, he texts ace with something that truly looks like the worst kind of detailed, enhanced vocabulary copypasta imaginable

all ace responded with was a no bitches meme and no sebek hasn’t recovered

[adorable-deku]

an au where izuku just. never fucking appears. bc he was raised by afo halfway across the country and therefore never runs into all might. he also has his fathers quirk so hes homeschooled for the most part. hes not rly involved in his fathers international criminal empire but he's also not uninvolved. hes part of it but like. on the fringes. he mostly does his own things but uses resources from afo or has goals that correlate in one way or another

hes generally more of a vigilante and has kind of a critical view of heroes but still loves all might bc hes one of those who's still like. a pure hero. even his merch sales he donates to various charities.

he likes all might even after the man loses his power in his fight w afo (the shigaraki stuff still happens). he gets real mad at his father after that like "he was one of the good ones" as if afo fucking cares

"he was on his way out anyway" afo shrugs

izuku ignores him for like a month

anyway, quirkless all might doesnt rly care for having bodyguards. it feels patronizing and hes not rly used to it, and his successor (mirio or kirishima) cant be around all the time

he gets kidnapped bc they hit him over the head while hes in the middle of a coughing fit. he wakes up to a very torture dungeon looking room in a warehouse type of setting. theres another guy in the room but he doesnt look much like a torturer

toshinori figures hes just the underling they were willing to sacrifice if he turned out to have one last blast of one for all.

the guy seems almost sympathetic to toshinori. almost. he wont let him go but he does apologize for the discomfort and doesnt rly bother him. toshinori wonders offhandedly why he works for this group

an alarm goes off

something breached the security system

the guy in the room figures someone will take care of it, theyre pretty deep into the base

then they hear the screaming. its on and off but theres definitely something very bad happening. the worst isnt the screaming but the silence that comes afterwards

then the guy gets a phone call. whoevers on the other line tell him to "RUN. FUCK ALL MIGHT, LEAVE HIM BEHIND JUST GET OUT-" and then the phone cuts out

the warehouse is silent now. there are no more screams. the guy is too scared to leave and toshinori is still tied up.

they hear footsteps coming to the door. someone knocks politely and asks to be let in. they are not let in.

they knock harder, "please?"

still no response.

"fine, i guess i'll let myself in"

and both all might and the villain underling shivering in the corner watch as the door is crushed in on itself by the strength of whatever is behind it

then whatever is behind it strolls in and its just. a fucking teenage boy. with the messiest green hair and a tshirt that says villain costume and bloodstained sweatpants