#they have a turning mechanism except it was stuck in two of them

[electrosquash]

HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA TAKE THAT SUCKERS 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

[syoddeye]

kinktober - day 03 - public sex

ghost x f!reader | 2.4k words cw: noncon/rape, violent threats, spit, degradation, improvised gag, unnegotiated and vague allusion breeding kink, abduction a/n: if anyone is better acquainted with the vw camper vans, no you’re not (please don’t call me on details, ty) summary: two birds, one stone. banner by @/cafekitsune | kinktober list

A knock at the door mid-saxophone solo wrenches you out of the 1980s.

It’s Lost Boys night at the drive-in, one of your favorite films at one of your favorite places. To be interrupted, your knee-jerk reaction is what does this asshole want—

Except, said asshole looms over your door, clearing your car by almost a foot, treating you to a view of a broad torso in a hi-vis vest. Ducking down, your frown gives way to confusion. It’s the security guy who waved you into this very ‘spot’ not ten minutes ago. You had to beg him to let you turn into the drive-in, frantically explaining that work kept you late, causing you to arrive just as the movie started.

“Lot’s full.”

“That can’t be right, I-I have a ticket! Please?”

(If you’d dipped a little low to give him a good view of your cleavage, that was neither here nor there.)

He’d given you a long look, sighed, and then guided your puttering van into a relatively flat space by the dumpsters beyond the final row of cars. When you stuck your head out to thank him, he muttered something about tardiness. 

It appears he still has a bone to pick with you.

You crank the window down, one eye still on the screen.

“Yeah?”

“Just wonderin’, that a ‘75 Volkswagen camper?”

“It’s an ‘82 T3 Westfalia,” You rattle off. “You a collector? ‘Cause The Bluebird’s not for sale. She was my dad’s, so...”

“I’m not. Is it the model with the foldin' table?”

Oh, so he’s just another nosy enthusiast. Good thing you have the rundown memorized from years of strangers walking up to play twenty questions.

“Yeah,” you say with a little sigh, eyes still on the movie. “Everything’s original except for the seat fabric.”

“Mind if I pop in for a look? My dad 'ad one too, before 'e passed.”

Great. Now you have something in common. You unlock the doors and furiously gesture for him to take a peek. 

“Yeah, yeah, climb in. Just keep it quiet, I love this movie.”

“Quiet’s the goal, sweet'eart.”

Cripes.

You listen to him inspect the cupboards and examine the curtains your dad installed years ago. True to his word, the security guard’s silent. When the door shuts, you automatically turn to ask if it is anything like his dad’s model, but nobody’s outside the van. It’s like he vanished into—

Something cold touches your cheek.

“You scream, and I’ll ruin daddy’s ’ard work.”

Your eyes strain in their sockets to glimpse the tip of something black poking into your flesh, and your imagination fills in the rest. Your mouth dries, killing the screaming trapped at the base of your throat. You nod mechanically.

“Good girl. Now, give me the keys then keep your ‘ands where I can see ‘em.”

Sucking in a panicked breath, you slowly reach for the keys and blindly hand them over your shoulder. They disappear with a faint jingle.

“P-Please. You can have her. I’ll–I’ll get out, sit on the ground quietly, and you can drive off. I won’t fight o-or make a scene–“

“You won’t do either of those things, Blue,” he chuckles before stroking your temple with the tip of his gun. “Now. Turn the radio up so you can listen to your movie, then climb back here, carefully.”

You hesitate. Does he mean…?

“Between the seats. C’mon.”

Oh god.

“I’m not a patient man.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You wheeze. You turn up the radio until it drowns out your thundering heartbeat and clumsily scramble into the back. You nearly trip, eyes widening to see that in his explorations, he’s converted the back seat into the sleeping configuration. He’s made the bed. 

He stands hunched in the narrow gap between the bed and the driver’s seat. Crammed into a space meant for a man seemingly half his size. The bed isn’t the only thing he’s changed, you notice. Gone is the medical mask. In its place is a crude, painted balaclava. It makes him look all the more terrifying as if he needs the boost to his image.

He gestures at your chest as you hover awkwardly behind the passenger seat, hands raised, trying not to fall onto the bed in the cramped space.

“Clothes off. Won’t say it twice this time, so get a move on. Sit if ya need to, but not a fuckin’ word.”

Tears spring to your eyes. Your cheeks burn as you comply, a sob catching in your throat when you glimpse him unbuckling his belt. This can’t be happening. This can’t be fucking happening. The fact it is happening at the drive-in, in the van, is a double whammy. The stranger’s going to obliterate two of your safe spots in one go.

He growls when you stand there in your bra and panties, hands clasping awkwardly at your front. 

“You stupid? Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Your bra tumbles down your shaking arms, and you kick it next to your clothes. As for your panties—he snatches them out of your hands before you can toss them. He brings them to his face, mashing them into the fabric covering his nose, and jerks his head in a silent but clear order.

He practically purrs when you climb onto the cheap, lumpy makeshift mattress. The upholstery is clean, you see to its maintenance, but it scratches at your palms and knees as you crawl.

“Look at that arse. Give it a wiggle, Blue.”

With the gun and his casual threat of ruining the interior with your interior, you pathetically comply. He belly laughs, louder than the revving of the motorcycles on screen. You try to ignore it, focusing on the interior handle of the van’s rear latch that’s a shuffle away. But as soon as you reach for it, a hand the width of a shovel wraps around your ankle and yanks.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” He growls, easily overpowering your squirming, sobbing self. 

The fight you put up, if you could call it that, feeds the growing shame in your gut. It ends as quick as it began, with your panties jammed behind your teeth and wrists pinned. He hovers, breathing rough through his mask. He releases your hands with a cautionary squeeze.

“Try that again, and you’ll be joinin' your dad tonight. Simple enough?”

You nod so fast you crick your neck, tonguing fabric. 

With a patronizing pat to your cheek, he sits on his knees, head ducked and back curved, touching the roof. “That’s more like it.” His eyes linger on yours, assessing, then drop to your body, a soft, perverse laugh rattling out. Hedged with a smoker’s cough. 

It’s as surreal as the movie. Like you’ve been sucked beyond the silver screen. One minute, simply watching, the next, part of the nightmare.

Ghost, he tells you between sharp nips and bites to your tits, is what you’ll call him when you plead, beg, and whine. And that’s what you do, trading breaths for muffled whimpers as he paws at your belly, hips—whatever he can reach, which is everything. He leaves indentations of his teeth all the way down your body, stinging and raw.

“Nice cunt you’ve got ‘ere,” Ghost grins as if complimenting the upholstery or fixtures. He rolls and tucks his mask, revealing a pale chin and thin lips. You catch a couple of old, gnarly scars in the light filtering through the windshield. A knitted cleft. Helpful detail to identify him later, your hysterical mind notes. His lips twitch as he pries your legs open. “She’s fuckin’ soaked. Playin’ rough do it for you?”

Blunt thumbs rub circles into the soft skin at the crux of your inner thighs, teasing and pulling you open. He spits a large glob directly onto your hole. Either you’re not as soaked as he said, or worse, you think, he’s planting yet another little flag on your body. He plays with you for a moment, unskillfully toying with your clit, and stroking himself, spreading the drool from his leaking cock. He slaps the heft of it once, twice—then without further preamble, begins to shove his way in.

You can’t stop your hands from flying up to claw at his arms, your mouth falling further open in a silent scream, cotton tickling the back of your throat. The stretch is immense, and you feel like a bug the way your legs instinctively try to close, bracketing his broad form and pressing into his sides, from how you feel squashed as he bottoms out with a throaty groan.

Ghost rocks his hips to take whatever room’s left and chuckles at your wide eyes, glassed over with unshed tears. You stare up at the dark pits above, glinting with satisfaction. 

“Go ahead and cry. Been wonderin’ what you’d look like since you got all blubbery at the entry.” He picks up the pace and successfully knocks your tears loose as he fucks you hard into the mattress. The whole van must be rocking on its suspension, giving you a little hope a fellow movie-goer or an employee will investigate and scare him off. But there’s no way he doesn’t notice the sway of the van. He must not care.

“Please,” Ghost mocks. “Please, I ‘ave a ticket! It’s my stupid job and my stupid manager,” he laughs meanly, smacking into you to punctuate his speech. “These stupid ‘ours and stupid customers.” You wince at hearing your near-hysteric ranting and begging parroted back at you. “Ever think about what all those got in common? Ever think it’s you who might be stupid, Blue?”

He slips a hand back to your clit, thumbing it in tight circles broken by occasional flicks, coaxing a reluctant yet responsive heat like a skittish animal. His mask lifts more with a big smirk and a mean laugh as you choke around the gag, sobbing. 

“After all, you did let a strange man into your car.”

Your fingers dig into his arms but do nothing. He drops his weight, snakes his arm under your head, and ruts. His rubbing hurts. He uses way too much pressure than you normally like and pinches, muttering filthy orders into your ear. He kisses your drooling mouth and licks your cheeks. 

“C’mon, give me it, come on my cock. Want you nice and tight f’me, need you to keep it all inside.”

The inevitably of him finishing inside you chases another wail from your mouth. He finally slots his own over it, burrowing his tongue inside to dig around. You can barely breathe as he fucks you through whatever it is he’s doing. Your eyes spin and bounce off the fogged windows. Surely, any minute now, someone will interrupt, someone will save you. They’ll throw away their trash and hear your muted shrieking. 

And, as if summoned by thought alone, the beam of a flashlight bounces off the rear windows. Ghost pauses his mouth before his hips, slowing to a leisurely roll. He lifts his upper half to stare out the window as the light passes over the glass again. You watch, heartbeat borderline painful, and squeak when he raises his hand. His face snaps to you.

“Not a word.” He warns.

Ghost wipes the mist from the glass and his lip curls. 

“Just a kid.” A hand migrates over your mouth and presses, apparently not trusting you even with your underwear half-lodged behind your teeth. His other hand reaches and unlatches the window. You tense so hard in panic that he hisses and squeezes your cheeks with a second pointed look. He cranks the window open enough that surely his masked face is visible outside.

“Didn’t your mum teach you it’s not polite to stare?”

A pitchy, crackling voice of what sounds like a teenager responds. Fuck. You can hear him pretty clearly, even over the radio. He must be only a foot away. 

“I-I-I….W-Whatever it is you’re doing, sir, you can’t–”

“I’m enjoyin’ the show. At least I’m tryin’, but ‘ere’s some whelp stickin’ his nose in my business.” His voice is cruel, mocking. “I suggest you go back to your booth and forget about me. I can leave an impression if you’d like, but you like solid foods, yeah?” 

There’s a choked, scared sound that cuts through the film audio. It makes Ghost huff and drive deeper into your cunt, making you bite through cotton as his cockhead glances sharply into your cervix.

“Yes, sir. Sorry sir.” By the sound of his retreating footsteps, the kid’s power-walking away.

Ghost shuts and locks the window, muttering, and returns his attention to you. He gives you a toothy grin, flashing a silver cap on a rear molar. 

“Now, where was I?” 

A heartbeat passes before he’s back to fucking you mercilessly, tongue jamming into your mouth yet again.

He ignores the rake of your nails when you shove your hands up his shirt to find skin to ruin, and merely grunts as he lifts his head. Your underwear slides out of your mouth in his teeth, damp and wrinkled. He spits them out beside your head, then returns, wetting your dry tongue with his own.

Ghost swallows your shrill cry as you come and endures your kicking legs while flames as hot as hellfire sear you to the bone beneath him. The train whistle and screams pumping through the van’s speakers smother the rest of your bawling. You dangle above the abyss, spent.

It doesn’t take long for his orgasm to follow. Panting into your mouth, blown pupils fixed to yours, mouth screwed up in a sneer. He barely makes a sound as he loses his rhythm and floods your cunt. 

He withdraws after a brief eternity and kisses you. Exhausted, overwhelmed, and aching, you slip unconscious. Lost.

When you stir, you find yourself cuffed to the wall of the van, wearing only a hi-vis vest. It chafes your nipples as the van bounces along. Blinking, you groggily moan in pain and try to compute what it is you’re seeing through the lace curtains. Green. Patches of gray and white. Mountains. But the closest range is…

Your eyes whip up front, where Ghost fiddles with the dial. He pauses, registering your movement in the corner of his eye, and meets your gaze in the rearview. 

“Made a collector out of me, Bluebird.”

[lesser-mook]

Footage of Texas STANDOFF With 302k Migrants on US-Mexico Border Has Gon...

https://youtu.be/cL7X4cskd8Q

(shitty *melodramatic thumbnail aside- and brace yourself this is finna get deep, 90% of this is lore)

This is like The Walking Dead Season 4, but the Zombies came with bags and are given free resources after they invade. Literally a zombie horde forcing their way in, to consume resources that should've been going to Americans. 

But this sudden surge of resources given to these aliens shows that the Gov. had the means to help Americans the entire time but chose not to, which we all knew already but it's confirmed by the same people that left us to burn.  

(To clarify, this isn’t on the illegal aliens entirely, like ‘let’s dehumanize these people’ because of the dumb policies our “leaders” made

Yeah some of em are coming here not for some Dream but they want free shit because Biden is an agent, ie. Who allowed them to come in here in the first place? The Illegals aren’t actually taking anything by force--  they’re being GIVEN the motherload by your own Administration)

 What a joke. 

Every Empire has it's fall. America. Your turn.

And how we got here starts with the simple things, like relations, tensions between the power-houses of society. 

The dichotomy, Man & Woman. 2.Two forces of nature, two pieces of an incomplete entity that is the “Hu-man” 

The agenda is simple, it wasn’t quick, it was a slow burn: If these two pieces fit so well together that when they are getting along, things are great, community is stronger, the culture is healthy, values/norms/standards intact- Traditional family works...but the problem is

A civilization united like that well? is a lot harder to fool/control/manipulate.

 So the agenda is simple:

Keep people fighting, invent more labels, enable toxicity/ hostility in the culture, propagandize with stronger signals in the music, movies, political spectrums = Separate men and women on a cultural level. Plant a disconnect and keep it intact.

Drive the sexes apart in the intangible sphere, thought, norms.

Propagandize & overstimulate girls with a crap-ton of unrealistic expectations of themselves and men. 

Give women every incentive not to be responsible with their reproductive powers, to the point young men are stuck with grown children who are looking for Papa at Ages 19-35 to pay for everything and offer next to nothing of their own accord. 

The world owes you for being born female

 And when every woman is a special snowflake & pandered to, womanhood is trivialized, accountability becomes an option. 

It’s why your culture worships “Girl bosses”, you call your adult females “girls” so casually, it’s casual condescension. Patronizing.

It is so casual- WOMEN call each other “girls”. Reinforcing a state of infantilism.

So a bunch of girls and yet you have no “Women”, America has stopped raising women years ago. 

Castrate, degrade, bash and shame men to the point where young women are now stuck with Sub-Males who are out of touch with their balls. 

America doesn’t make men like they used to, they’re too busy neutering them.

And then develop fetishes wanting giant women (aka a hybrid construct of mommy/female authority issues & Gynocentric society) to castrate, degrade, bash, and subjugate themselves- They developed a fetish where they castrate themselves in the exact same fashion society does except they depict actual violence happening. Manslaughter even.

Now, what do you call a condition where a victim normalizes the abuse as a coping mechanism?  Stockholm Syndrome.

Macrophilia is just an advanced/tragic case of mass Stockholm Syndrome.

See psychologists aren’t allowed to say that, they stay very neutral because that’s what keeps them employed. 

But I’m not getting paid for this- so there you go. Macrophilia and it’s mother: (toxic-gynocentrism/ not Women having opportunities-- but TOXIC Gynocentrism/Female Privilege) & it’s father (misandry) are all connected. 

One big inbred family of dysfunction and societal collapse (which if you pay attention that’s what a giant woman mainly does, collapse civilization, cause pain, destroy, evil-

Something women are not, just to put that out there, because I feel it’s necessary or we’ve fallen so hard as a species, that HAS to be said now. Women are not the enemy, Women are not the enemy, Men are not the enemy, Women are not the enemy of Men. 

So it’d be a good idea to stop emulating the hatred that’s implanted.

Macrophiles/ or Macrocreeps as I lovingly dubbed them- are literally/indirectly/ & repeatedly communicating that women will cause or are the collapse of civilization, women being empowered means women are enemies of humanity, women are evil- the same narrative on repeat)

NOW THAT- is misogyny, 100% learned, 0% nature. 

If you were raised in a small town like Black Forest (Germany): 

or a Mongolian Steppe Nomad life. Healthy upbringing, healthy-equal community for men and women, away from misandry & gynocentrism, unplugged from the Matrix/ aka The HATE-trix

-you’re not going to have this crap living in your head. 

You just might even have a life.

It’s why this movie (The Red Turtle) is so poetic, simple and beautiful. it displays simply what life is without the bullshit:

Every time I watch this movie, I’m reminded what the “human experience” boils down to, as repetitive as it is, it really boils down to having each other, family.

See people were freaks back in the day, but within reason, this macro-cancer wasn’t really popping back in the 70s when men and women were for the most part in an okay place. 

You get more of a rise of this kind of thing when things are bad between men and women, it’s really a mirror of HOW bad it’s gotten in society or in your own childhood, your mind, your subconscious where seeds are planted.

When men & women are happy on mass, when the culture has shows like Good Times, The Cosby Show, Living single Roseanne, Full House- positive culture, when that is the repeated narrative, positivity, you tend to get positive signals implanted in the people watching it, namely children.

 Fact is, you get an infection in the body when there’s a problem, not when it’s healthy, plain and simple.

See you don’t simply feel the need to replace women with a demonic sociopathic mile-high she-beast or in a neutral sense you need to have Mommy looming over you & make you feel like a loser to feel secure because the giantess needs to be MAN enough for both of you combined: (Hence, women are stuck in a generation of SUB-Males who lost touch with their balls and a lot of the time women have the carry them both) 

And this has nothing to do with confidence, you can be confident and have no balls, want to be mistreated or not know what being a man is about.  There’s a lot of confident losers on this planet, do not confuse the two (Confidence vs Security) together.

vs when you have actual healthy relationships with women throughout life here in reality or a society that doesn’t tell you you’re less than dirt or outright communicates you are stupid, inferior, and something that needs to be fixed or stamped out by a more competent woman presence-

Hellywood definitely hasn’t been doing that, TV shows definitely hasn’t been doing that, Culture, various IRL situations (some caught on camera) definitely hasn’t been communicating that.

One just can’t help but share that misery with the world & await a “congratulations” from fellow cult members for posting the exact same thing for the 15′000th time for the 13th year in a row.. An example of misandrist propaganda birthing a mini-industry of misandrist propaganda. (Though women are victimized as well in the fantasy, lesbians can be macrocreeps too, and the opposite spectrum exists *Giant males* but let’s focus on the popular one, women.)

The compulsion comes from the fact that it’s a generational conditioning operation. I personally think it’s unintentional, there’s no way this shit was calculated, and macrocreeps are too small a group to even be measured as a problem but the problem actually is what they represent, the question: “Where in you is that fantasy coming from?”

What they represent, and what they’re literally showing us (Cry for help / Red Flag) in the content is the concerning factor. And how *consistent it is.

A normal person gets tired of watching the same movie, playing the same game, hell- some people break up from boredom. 

Most fetishists (especially macrocreeps)- DO NOT evolve, grow up or move on, they will stay on the same radio channel for- EVER. I repeat: FOREVER. 

The same horror, the same scenarios but from new artists (so much talent wasted on nonsense, it physically hurts me), the same-

“me male, me insignificant, yes goddess” 

disrespect/Misandry narrative on repeat and repeat and repeat. As per design.

It’s literally a case of an internet economy where nothing changes, like it’s recycling the narrative that their culture convinced them to be true. 

And most will eat it up for years to come (Literal Matrix tier enslavement of the mind)- as if following an installed directive, robotic. If only that level of commitment was shown to marriages or idk actual women? 

But nobody tryna have that conversation, a she-devil in your head who’s entire function is to hurt you & belittle will get more of your time, your skills, investment, devotion than women here in reality, hilarious. 

(And don’t be fooled, these are everyday people, some with families, these aren’t neckbeards but men & women with serious issue, and it’s about time we stopped pretending being broken is a virtue or some kind of badass badge when at the end of the day what you’re producing is blatant misery.

 It’s just ironic the level of commitment given to some lala-land kaiju, a paragon of misogyny that will NOT give you anything back in this life but wasted time, is still more effort than they’d give to women with something to offer)

And it’s even more hilarious that American birthrates started the drop just around the70s to 2020, now that is very interesting to me. Seems like the 70s was just around the tipping point for everyone over in America. Including Biden, because his stance on borders was verrrrry different way back when:

Funny how the media has all the resources to ride Trumps D 24/7 but they conveniently leave out this little gem. 

.Biden In 2007_ “No Great Country Can Say It’s Secure Without Being Able To Control Its Borders”

source

And so, again, women are now stuck with a good chunk of  house broken Man-children or live in a culture that cultivates this attitude where some men  in a bizarre sense want to worship women to a disturbing degree and want their mother to domineer over them and tell them how insignificant they are as society successfully programed into them (rarely is it from one experience), thus women are shipwrecked in this generation with a good number of American males-

-who don’t know how to be or afraid to be men (not men’s fault). And yet the consequence is they turn to fantasy, Anime, fetishism- escapism or any escapism where they condition themselves to have unreasonable expectations of girls and women’s behavior, bodies & themselves.

All to overcompensate what they couldn’t or CHOOSE not to step up to be in reality as men. 

Keyword: They <choose> fantasyland over choosing to be better, which is 100% in their control. They’d rather play victim in a fantasy where they lose control instead of growing a goddamn pair.

Product of the times.

Modern day wars on masculinity is what happens when we are taught women have a right to say “no” (True) but as a society we never tell a woman “no”. (A problem)

A woman happily serving the husband is toxic & repressive, but “Happy wife, Happy life” is normalization of men suffering in silence as long as their domestic adult-baby is pacified.

Notice how I’m throwing haymakers in both directions, because either way you slice it (and yes, it does go both ways) on either side it’s not efficient nor sustainable, as we’re now seeing. Everyone actually, because the Americans aren’t the only one’s suffering dropping births.

But it’s only okay when women get the better end of the deal. But the punchline is women aren’t receiving anything good from an atmosphere like this.

Do women today feel safe? Do they trust the men of their country? (that is a big one),  Does their culture prepare girls or pander to them to keep them in a box? Because padding women’s ego’s is a subtle form of control by giving women the illusion of agency.

That’s the ultimate fallacy of a Giant Woman being used by Feminists as an  empowerment symbol, and Fetishists as a symbol of power:  When in fact, a woman that big has even less control over her life because her interaction with civilization (and all the resources they have that she NEEDS from care to tampons) is now limited. The gigantism is fallacy in itself. 

The illusion of control.

Inflating the importance of a woman’s “independence” from men in society (when it’s not dependence to be with a man, it’s coexistence)

Some society shame the egos of men  because they are afraid of what men are capable of when things go wrong (Shootings, R*pe, murder).

When all that needs to be done is to teach boys & men to regulate and channel their ego instead of snuffing it out, teach principle, not hedonism. 

Abusing boys, drugging them up to stay still & smothering masculinity because the result is that a lot of  men now think they have no power and some believe & revel in the narrative they should have no confidence or power and only women should be allowed to have an ego & overwhelming advantage (Gynocentrism).

When it's just another perpetuated narrative (harming women & men) that men should be nerfed because they're a threat and not women because-

 women aren't a threat. Apparently only in a fantasy are they anything close to a danger.

  Exacerbating a woman's ego because you or the system presumes they won't ever do anything about it, zero threat. 

That’s why American culture is biased toward women so hard: They don’t take you seriously.

Misandry  is when the village fears men

Gynocentrism is the result of underestimating women's egos, underestimating women, painfully so.

Which is also why these macrocreeps use the fetish so they can fabricate a woman with near omnipotence over the “tiny”, 

Some psychologist taking on macrophilia theorize (paraphrasing): ‘Macrophiles seek to create women with overwhelming power in light of society lacking female empowerment’...... uhhhhhh excuse you, where have you been in the past 15-20 years of American pop culture & real time events? 

A “LACK” of Female empowerment? What?! 

Women are in fact doing better than the fellas.

This is a brutal form of gaslighting harder than a politician.

 And you want to know the most insulting part? Their assertion It’s conceivable to an extent but they never dig deeper.

Example: Most of these qualified people will use the “lack of female empowerment” point but rarely do any of them mention the rampant misandry in society & the culture inflating women’s egos, more so the normalization/glorification of male expendability as a logical alternate or logically the primary reason why Macrophilia has taken root in this era specifically to glorify what? You guessed it Glorification of male expendability and inflating the hubris of a woman.

Coincidence, it’s all coincidence.

But you see, when you say men wanting to be destroyed is because of gynocentric society lacking female empowerment: That’s another way of saying:

It’s not the fault of culture putting women on a pedestal at men’s expense as to why men developed stockholm syndrome where they also put women on a pedestal at men’s expense, even to the point of desiring their own oblivion- #Deflection

No instead they assert or suggest women aren’t being gassed up ENOUGH!!!

 So it’s not about men & women being culturally (& possibly at some point physically or emotionally) abused and propagandized- 

let’s make it about women not getting enough pandering, reinforcement, benefits, exceptions, compliments, priority, priority priority, priority. PEDESTAL.

(I think you get it, and I also think you see the problem. Men ARE ALWAYS AT THE BOTTOM, even in a situation where they are the focus per the fetish & might look to these psychologists for answers, somehow these people still make women out to be the victims anyway because society isn’t doing enough, so women deserve more more more.)

THAT right there is the freaking problem, not that women are involved in the conversation, but the fact that men are shelved yet again to make it about women.

But so many go to these pages for answers to be met with enabling the problem further, thus the source of the problem is lying in the place you go to get answers, how ironic. 

The dishonesty with some of these professionals is astounding, and you know what? I don’t think they’re doing it on purpose, that’s the scary part for me.

But yes, I do believe a lot of these people are holding back information or a degree of transparency to prevent from seeming like a persecutor.

Listen, I get empathy, you can’t just come at people any type of way. But if we’re going to get to the bottom of this, we have to stop holding people’s hands. The truth doesn’t exist to breastfeed you, the entire point is to enlighten, teach, and if that involved discomfort that means it’s working. 

And saying essentially ‘women deserve better’ is why men glorify women destroying humanity is just signaling more entitlement, toxicity, excuses, zero accountability. 

And worse? Enabling people to worship Anti-Humanity obsessions.

This isn’t about accountability of women, not this time, Macrophilia wasn’t created by women, it was created by the overall culture, the village, the atmosphere that enabled female privilege, how matriarchal society is despite how patriarchal civilization is or was, but society? Is very matriarchal, Gyno (Women)- Centric.

Namely the people on top that own these companies, these news, media platforms of all types, owning everything we see (global too)- that are pushing the narrative.

Then we wonder why so many ladies are infantile and panic whenever asked “What do you bring to the table?”, this is not women’s fault, mind you. 

How are women supposed to answer the question, when they’re taught that they have all the answers, they’re bosses, they’re in charge, they run the world, the future is female, girlpower, #girlpower, #GIRLPOWER, empowerment, ass-kissing-

WOMAN WORSHIP culture. (Macrocreeps anyone?)

That’s what’s pumped into the average Americano lady like crack, like being reliant on the world to tell them they’re awesome. And then they grow up (physically), trained to be reliant on external validation for life-

A form of control over a woman’s mind, not fantasy but here in reality.

Spend a lifetime with a phone in your hand, depending on anon’s to signal they want to sleep with you instead using those hands of yours to actually build something or spread something constructive, like the truth, or a song, or a story, an empire, create something, anything other than your Two-Millionth selfie for the day.

That’s the sick joke: It comes off as America’s boner for Female Security when it’s female subjugation/pacification, on top of male subjugation/castration. Both parties are trivialized as a result. Nobody wins, nobody. 

Everyone’s a prisoner. That’s the point.

A giant 5′000ft tall woman destroys civilization, kills everyone. 

She laughs about it, gets off on it, and then what? She’s left stuck as a giant, no grocery to shop from, no one to love her, no one to talk to, no dental care, no resources, no infrastructure, no friends, no home, no support system, she’ll starve, she’ll dehydrate, she’ll get lonely, she’ll die alone. No fucking point,  that’s the part of the fantasy these muppets very conveniently leave out, reality.  Strength for days, but zero power. 

The natural consequence of the fantasy emulates reality. Nobody wins, nobody. Not even in fantasy. 

No intimacy, just horror, ugliness, death, destruction and emptiness. 

Because that’s what women are, amiright boys?

The common theme? I repeat, Nobody wins. 

It’s so closely similar in both fantasy & reality, the parallels are blood related (Hence my mother & child analogy). 

Propaganda is scary like that and moreso predictable, as are fetishists. 

We underestimate the effects of what children internalize (regardless of how minor the experience is) & regurgitate it and the fact that we don’t stop doing that emulation when we become adults.

It’s how we read rooms, social cues, our lovers or dangers, develop traumas.

We see, then spread the message. Whether it be school, a cool line from a movie, a song stuck in your head, an insult that sticks with you, someone intimidating you, threatening you, or you being threatened by a misunderstanding,  a compliment etc. 

No difference. 

We need less female empowerment, and more mentors.

Respect to women as humans first, and not singling them out constantly as “first woman to do-” something a man did 75 years ago. Patronizing women and making them like being a participation winner.

Mentor girls of womanhood as a principle, aka accountability, protecting your reproductive powers, not giving it away. 

America panders to female ego but does not respect womanhood. 

Society failed women and men by convincing us women are the exception when they actually deserve less- until  they’re willing to contribute something beside an open hand in a relationship.

You don’t get to win by just showing up.

women need to learn what earning a man’s time, money/ His life, His sacrifice, 

What earning his LIFE for hers really means.

Women need to learn what it means to earn that shit, I swear to god, a man’s life is so trivialized now, women don’t even think about what a big deal it is for man to just pay his life as a toll for hers to go on 5 more seconds.

 It’s disgusting how overlooked that is, but I keep hearing “As he should”, WHOO buddy. Americans are beyond lost baby.

But you see in 15 years or less that’ll be considered “hate speech” or a thought-crime, or perhaps this entire rant would be worth an insta-trip to ban world.

 because #MenAreTrash is trendy that’s fine 100% males don’t have feelings right but the same time we want them to be sensitive, but not too sensitive or else he’s a man-child. It’s never enough.

 #MenNeedToStepUp we can agree on 100%, but #WomenDoBetter or #WomenNeedToEarnAMan is misogyny

Everything is misogyny when name calling or witch-hunts aka “Cancel culture” (how it’s called today)- doesn’t work.

Right, keep that up. Doing a good job so far, lmfao.

But gee, I can’t figure out why the birthrates are falling

& men are flocking to other countries for real women? When there’s plenty in America, far in-between but they do exist.

All we wanted to do was just treat men/husbands/fathers like second class citizens, like idiots- so horrifically mistreated that the goofballs went & created a fetish/Cult where they actually enable each other to want to be treated like second class citizens.

ZERO connection, all coincidence!

Wanting Women to be their gods and mistreat or destroy them and the whole of civilization: um wow.

Did you even have a mother? I mean My God, what happened?!

You know, ZERO red flags there. Nothing to see here. Everything is fine. Go back to deviantart, enjoy the genocide.

No btw, I AM NOT shitting you, this is real. 

(And the access to A.I art made it SOOOOO much worse, now these lovable dorks can just spawn the most horrific shit with zero effort now)

If you didn’t think that group’s issues weren’t that deep? (because naturally, they’re just minding their business beating off/worshipping human genocide- until you realize how comfortable they’re getting, too damn comfortable, normalizing the most anti-human shit, it makes you question if you’re even awake sometimes)

Trust me, a good majority of them don’t even know where their obsession came from--- AND that is the point of propaganda, subtle, like a socio-cultural virus. A weapon for your mind. neurological malware.

I repeat: Neurological/Socio-Cultural Malware for your mind. A prison for your mind. It used to be heroin, still is for some, but now fantasy is the new drug, no drugs in your system, not “harming anyone” but that justification to keep doing it is why the prison is that much stronger. You tell yourself there’s no problem because no one’s hurt, you’ll keep doing it for the rest of your life.

The change begins when we allow ourselves to stop lying to ourselves.

And again, to no one’s surprise (Brain mappings show fetishism or sex addiction is parallel to addictive habits like drugs, alcoholism, etc.) So no, not harming anyone (until it does) but yourself through re-wiring what your brain imprints on, I believe it’s through firing signals via the synapse endings at climax, like you’re physically making changes to your brain on a microscopic scale. 

That is precisely why breaking the habit is difficult and the more rewarding, with any bad habit btw.

Fact is, Nobody knows exactly when a virus gets in your body or your pc/phone  machine, but when it’s in, it’s on you to do something about it or cope with it by not coping at all.

Superboy-Prime’s level of petty is not even close to an average GTS NPC, and ironically he could solo 99.99999999% of them all, even the god level one’s. And he’s smaller than most of them-

So yeah, despite having the word in their mouths 24/7, macrocreeps don’t really understand what  “power” is, lol.

Even if it’s a gentle scenario or the cringe “unaware” crap (where the appeal is more manslaughter but the excitement is she’s doing it unintentionally *yes, society failed this hard*)

The visual point of a woman being bigger by that much is visually signalling: “superiority”, female supremacy, gynocentrism. Males being lesser, weaker, vulnerable, under control, a security/self-esteem/ ultimately a Life-skill issue- that is the point.

It’s always a “power-” dynamic scramble, it’s so toxic and dysfunctional. 

To belabor the point, It’s no accident that what American society (from movies to articles) is pumping into you guys, is exactly what these cats worship with a level of dedication that makes Christians look like amateurs. 

They could legitimately begin a religion, I’m actually genuinely surprised they haven’t by now. 

In this context though, in Fantasyland where genocide is a goddamn game, that’s the entire appeal, #SizeDifference #Macro #Giantess #GiantessCrush #Sizeplay SizeSIZEsizesizesizesizesizesize, it’s really unhealthy. 

Hence Fetish hence “Obsession”, that’s what fetish means = You have nothing better to do.

This is why macrophilia is so unique though, solely because of how relevant it is to this era, the socio-cultural relevance.

And the reason for that (again) is this toxic gynocentric era in the west/ First world countries in general enabled it/ birthed it/ cultivated it in the first place.

Hear me: Macrophilia (One obsession) didn’t cause the problems between men and women, it is simply one of many manifestations/ & ultimately a spawn of these problems. 

It’s literally an example of what your civilization did horribly wrong whilst trying to empower women, you left men behind. 

Worldwide issue btw, Macrohphilia is not exclusive to America, neither is toxic-Gynocentrism. But America is Gold Medal champ in making their Men are 100% aware they are expendable to society, made to feel inept or stupid, should do more, here’s a superhero movie showing a guy being cool but IRL we’ll treat you like garbage in policies & law making. 

A lot of Japanese are into MacroCultisms, to no one’s surprise. 

Not in the 50s to 70s, but during the 90s, post-Internet 2000s era is when it really sparked, now all of a sudden we got a huge influx of goofballs wanting women to commit mass genocides on entire cities (Which involves children & babies- #ThisIsFine) or men the size of germs shrining women for existing, living on their bodies like Demodex (your hair mites)... just the most mind-numbing shit just to feel like you’re worthless, on purpose.

Kind of like the narrative privileged society pumps into you? #FutureisFemale (How inclusive) 

Or articles propagating that men are “Falling behind”, any & every excuse to plant seeds of disconnect and potential resentment, always negative.

The goal is to propagandize female supremacy to either frustrate men into resenting women (some of MGTOW), turn them paranoid (Anti-Woke Tards that complain about any movie with a female lead or women doing anything cool or competent), or straight up break them like dogs & the victims will ask for more (Macrocreeps)

or turn them indifferent, numb to even want to say or do anything about the problem. Men who unplugged and absolutely do not care anymore.

A lot of Men have been whipped & brutally trained by their own culture to be and somehow want to be second/third class citizens in some respects. and you’ll have attention seeking narcissist women infiltrating these communities garnering a following calling themselves “Goddess- [insert name]” , absolute silliness, just the most infantile stupid crap you’ll ever see. 

The strongest degree of secondhand embarrassment I’ve ever experienced, it’s like watching younger siblings just ruin....everything they touch for no reason.

These women banking on the insecurity of thousands of men who just need help or a fucking hug.

And the simple chemistry of men and women boils down to: SEX, connection, life, be happy. That’s it. That’s really all people want.

How do you complicate that, this badly? And it NOT be an artificial catalyst that caused it, life was not designed to be this convoluted & silly. This is what happens when you make relations between men and women more complicated than necessary. 

Otherwise, frankly: How does genocide correlate with sex. 

Vore? Still cringe, but at least you can loosely correlate that with oral sex, digestion (psychotic) but believe it or not it’s wanting to be in the womb again. 

(Male or female) it applies, yes brains are stupid like that. This is why what you ingest through the eyes to your soul is important, most people don’t even know where the impulses are coming from but WELP *wank wank

KNOW THYSELF. FREE THYSELF. Ya’ll better watch The Matrix again and really listen to what it’s telling you, not “was” telling, what IT IS telling us, still today. 

“A prison for your mind.”, notice how The Matrix in context was a “Fantasy” land/ distracting from the real war going on outside of the fantasy, outside of the prison. 

We better catch what these films are communicating.

Back on topic, how does being abused/bullied/destroyed/digested/ all of this crap by women- relate to sex and making love and NOT be related to some psychological struggles or a mass installation op. Even if unintentional.

Propaganda, abuse, societal/generational neglect. That’s how. Genocide ain’t it boi, something upstairs went sleep mode & it needs to wake up.

“The sleeper must awaken.“

I’m not smart at all, I just know what shit smells like and I’m more than willing to step on toes, and happily brave a ban or 2 if it means saying what apparently no one wants to say because we have this unspoken rule that all kinks are sacred & immune to judgement.

HA!, I don’t know what planet you came from, but that’s not how life works buddy. Whenever I tell fetishist this, they shut down completely or unravel, their confidence just goes away like fart.

Why?

Because they rely on the world saying “Sorry, carry on.” Nope! That’s not how life works. A fetish is not a baby, so adopting it gives absolutely nothing to us.

Really, all we have to do is pay attention to the world in real time and the rest sorts itself out. But our everyday can muddy & blur the lines, I get it, and that’s part of the game. Blue Pill baby, it was never about being asleep, it’s about being distracted.

“You need to see.“

- Jamis (DUNE PART TWO)

Some of these hombre’s aren’t even abused as kids, sometimes all it takes is one awkward moment with a girl overpowering you verbally or physically, a moment of vulnerability, or you get yelled at by an adult woman, or you see abuse or a woman having an overwhelming advantage in a movie and society does the rest with crap like #GirlsRunTheWorld over and over and over again-

No strong male role models to build up a healthy ego, or no dad at all, or a competent father, or even a big brother or sister, then when your confidence isn’t properly built (by your parents or environment) in time when you see something that makes you feel inferior or put-off and your mind can’t register it properly.

Like psychological indigestion and or in layman’s terms “Intrusive thought” that manifests into something it shouldn’t.

So it doesn’t bounce off as it should, or make you mad & you reject the negative signal.- instead it actually sinks into you, you internalize it. And it sits there, and sits there, & you keep seeing things in shows, feeding that seed.

And through a coping mechanism post-puberty where your hormones turn off your intelligence entirely (Yes, Sex chemicals actually make you stupid by design),  where you then normalize the toxicity because it’s women doing it, and women are attractive. So genocide is a good thing if a woman does, because women are hot. 

You’re horny now + the epic scale of giant women having near omnipotent control over your fate provides unrivaled excitement & dopamine levels that no woman could or would even want to measure up to (Cause it’s goofy af, Gulliver’s Travels #headass). 

Then the newborn fetishist propagates #Giantessisms over and over and over again with the unbridled freedom of the web- ready to act a fool.

And the ever so convenient echo-chamber of fetish spaces where everything you do and say came straight from Christ himself, where you’ll receive ZERO challenge. (Another part of the problem)

Indulge comfortably until someone, eventually goes against the grain in 4-15 years, roasting it- and then your defenses activate.  Because how dare they insult something that provides absolutely zero value or tangible substance to your life amiright?

But my oh my, I don’t know where it came from, I guess it’s always been there but It’s pretty much my personality and ”a part of my identity”....it’s a “hobby” 

-some say this crap, of course on threads where the likeminded are & will upvote everything they say, naturally naturally.  

Challenge is their Kryptonite. Questions make everyone queasy.

Painting women as inhuman psychopaths is a HOBBY. Riiiiiight, Okay then.

Pretending in make believe land that you’re a tyrannical burden to the society that would bend over backwards to protect you at the expense of men, any day of the week. 

You actually want to be an evil & mortal danger to people if means your fragile ego getting a stroke from being a couple meters/Mile  taller than everyone else, for a sense of control you obviously can’t manage to obtain as a competent adult here in reality. That’s part of your “identity”? Oooooooookay then.

Definitely not overcompensating for anything.

But don’t judge them though, you don’t want to hurt anyone’s fee’s fee’s now do you? You don’t want to be a meanie or a bad person.

Because saying nothing & pretending “This is fine” has worked out so well for mankind thus far right? 

Just ask Japan 2023 (Age of consent raise in that year, look it up. *If I talk about it, that’s going to be another essay, let’s stay focused: 

Sexes Disconnect/Gynocentrism/Gynocentric-Fetishism/Birthrates/Illegals/Decline )  🚨

Cycle of toxicity birthing more cycles.. 

The biggest woman you see first/imprint on in life is ideally your mother-figure. 

These cats just want mommy, thus from the place of a child (thus small like a child) so macrophilia has some PeterPan syndrome-isms in it’s core, thus to no one’s surprise this is a very cringe case of some suspended development because for most, all of this started when they were at their smallest & VULNERABLE to begin with.

“Vulnerable“, something they want to feel. That’s part of the high. “Helpless“, you’ll hear that term a lot in their subtext, it’s like a religious mantra next to “insignificant“, they LOVE that one, holy shit is that one a cult favorite line. (Z from ANTZ #headass, “You’re right Z, you are insignificant.”)

I’m telling you, all you have to do is pay attention. How our brains work is not that complicated especially when what these innocent goofs choose to share with us is literally spelling out the picture- How can I tell? Consistency and the fact that they NEED the world to know, like a cry for help:

Except they’re getting likes & money, and not a fuck to give to provide a solution vs exacerbation. 

And no, unlike what some of these exploitative women will say: NO providing an outlet or safe-space for these little angels is not therapeutic. 

Therapy is an actual solution, letting it go is a solution. Indulgence? Is like dumping a truck full of “happy snow” in a rehab center and then calling that “therapeutic”. 

The women arguing this want their meal tickets to stay delusional, stay deranged and remain imprisoned. Money baby, it’s all money.

This fetish became an industry, like many tend to do.

The repetitive nature of the “content” is too consistent, Artwork evolves it’s narrative. Art changes.

(I repeat) But this? It stays the exact same, same narrative, same bloodshed, same dialogue, all that’s different is the production value and who it’s coming from.

And yes, all of this & others mentioned prior contributes or related to the birthrates issue (China, Japan, Russia & others suffer this too), thus this illegal invasion in America.

All of it is connected, all of it, this isn’t the usual rambling session or tangent. There’s a point to this entire lecture, this is actual lore for the movie you’re living in.

The Twilight Zone episode that will not end even after you do.

These are real people, it’s not doing America any favors pretending these clowns/more-so the implication and subtext of their issues or more importantly THE issue doesn’t exist.

It’s the same with Japanese men and their infatuation with Anime culture & how that mega industry and so many other factors are causing Japan’s own falling births, social shut-in’s, etc.

We can’t just ignore this crap because no one wants to be “that guy”, screw that. Nothing’s gonna get done if we’re stuck in our own little worlds. 

Doesn’t make sense to have the Internet and be this connected & still be so distant at the same time.

We gotta at least address the roots of the issues while having fun-

That’s the operative concern, what caused the phenomenon in the first place, how do these obsessions work, why, and where is it coming from?

And why is it almost prophetic? Like a warning.

This isn’t about Macrocreeps being the problem, they’re a result. 

This ain’t about coming after them, though it’s been high time somebody put their ass on blast, so long overdue, holy shit. 

Because if you step back and really look at the concept of a giant woman committing genocide because her job sucks or she needed to bigger just to feel good about herself instead of just getting her life together? 

It’s pretty silly lol, infantile even.

But this is really about the subtext, that they are living breathing red-flags/reminders that your culture is failing and it’s failing everyone.

Woman is god, male subjugation good, women destroy civilization (including killing kids & babies by the thousands apparently, so marcocreeps are indirectly beating to slaughter of children, yaaaay) and yes, some also sexualize children too, casually. 

Japan would be proud or as of 2023, maybe not? Lol. 

Wash rinse repeat, it’s never enough. Men, humans, animals, life needs to be red paste on the bottom of a woman’s feet or else the itch isn’t scratched. 

For an average macrochump to feel some sort of sexual vindication in the context of the fantasy:  Women. The ONLY natural  threshold of human life, absolutely need need to trample, torture, and destroy life. 

That is indicative of something very concerning.

This is what I mean when I say Macrophilia is at it’s core: Anti-Human

That is straight misogyny, and I’m one of those people that hate the overuse of the word “misogyny”, I never use it but here I am using it (If I’m not mistaken for the first time in serious context) because this is actually that disturbing.

Click “upvote” on the psychopath content (”content” lmfao, more like commissioned propaganda)

comment for more, make video games repeating the same exact, and I do mean SAME EXACT narrative. 

(Yes, these goofballs make games & comics *they’re shit storytelling btw, absolute garbage, it’s not even appropriate for ironic cringe, it’s just bad*, it’s not creative either. But the lengths they go to to realize the exact same talking point they’ve heard a million times? The sheer determination to want to be demeaned, disrespected, & bullied by women and girls? That’s the impressive part. Again, I sincerely doubt they’d put that same effort in their kids. Just saying.)

further internalize male self-hatred as you were programmed to do so. Follow the script. Question nothing. Consume. Consume. Consume. Indulge, sink, drown.

You’d think they’d get bored of it, or maturity would fight it’s hardest to tame that beast of a brain in one’s cranium, and fit some sanity in there. God forbid

All in all, The American Culture state has weaponized women against men for decades now- so the fetish itself is not surprising or a shock.  

Men or women wanting to give up “control” for a sense of security in being ruled or abused in every way possible by a giant entity (male or female) sounds ideal for a (giant entity) state/society/government that literally would love love loooove for men (aka the first & last line of defense of civilization) or women (first, second and last line of defense to the children AND the only natural threshold of new life) to bow down, and want to be slaves.

So (in general) if your protectors are too busy kissing the ground, who’s protecting you? 

It’s why so many women are wondering what happened to men? Where did the men go? Why aren’t men performing? 

To put it simply (fetish or no fetish), a lot of western men:

They’re broken. Tamed. Clipped. Sterilized. By the same entity that tells you you can have it all “The Party”, The collective, society, the entity, the giant. 

Because there’s a lot more men committing self-termination than women, look it up. They’re suffering.

So most, not all- But all in all, women need better “uplifting” messages and the men are in serious need of society giving a crap about them.

  It starts in the home, both the solution and the problem starts at home and the village/society. Because parents can do everything right and society will undo 70% of that work.

I’ve said all this before, and I will keep saying it until I’m dead & probably still talking & ranting from beyond the grave.

If I personally wanted to "RIP” a country, “If.” Theoretically

I would convince the men that being a man is toxic, that they shouldn’t be men, to the point where they actually want to give up their manhood. 

Enable a superiority complex in the women regarding the men, to keep them in a constant state of resentment & entitlement and they don’t even know why. And the men are so passive & broken, they won’t challenge the women unless pushed, and when pushed, they will be frustrated, & what could result in a solution will just deepen the resentment on both sides.

And while one group is insufferable and the other one is groveling and pathetic and angry, or they just fight each other- The children are now exposed.

 Corrupt the children, you take that country’s future. Checkmate. 

Same with race. 

Not a nuke, not poisoning the water- but poison how the people see each other. 

Corrupt what they believe until they believe in nothing at all, not even in themselves, let alone their Gov., let alone their Homeland. Poison the culture. Keep them fighting, so when I do pull up on their doorstep, it’s too late.

 [Destroy the traditional family first, the pillars. Trivialize values until you stand for nothing: Destroy the country]

Convince the Protector Class/Men they should want to be destroyed by the group of people they should be protecting in the first fucking place: That is the power of propaganda people, corruption of the natural instinct. Anti-Human.

Size is not power, 

controlling what you see, influencing what you should think, what you don’t believe, who you hate, how to hate, what to hate, what to see as good, even now influence what you obsess over- To control how the world changes, controlling the triggers to your mind, propaganda, knowing you better than you know yourself, how to speak, what to say, weaponizing the mind against you, propaganda, that is power. 

Message = Power

 Always has been.

This is psychological warfare in real time. Brain-Malware, this is not a joke.

And trust and believe, I actually do have better things to do,  I only talk this much because I actually give a hoot.

 It’s just a crime that professionals with lengthier credentials WILL NOT tell you any of this. 

Propaganda is CONTROL, and can convince you to give yours up. 

Propaganda hurts you and conditions you to want to be hurt by the other half of humanity who’s entire instinct is community, birthing life, emotional propensity strength & nurturing. Things that glue civilization together. 

Things that are trivialized by civilization but things that civilization needs to stay intact, that only women provide in a way only women (as a collective) can. That’s womanhood, but you’ll sooner hear about empowerment on a corporate ad on Youtube to sell some damn soap than these companies tell you (what I just said) that truth because people actually NEED to see and hear this.

Hear me out, women are physically softer, designed to be more pleasant and lovable to appeal. Even an average woman’s voice triggers pleasure chemicals in your brain.

But somehow the popular obsessive scenario in the cult is women destroying everything, with a smile, with pleasure, and obscene satisfaction. Absolute demon-spawn who’s birth is a mistake.

Sooooo the overtone being, again, that a woman with any power- is a threat to civilization? A threat to men. 

Wow, that’s how you feel? Lmfao!  Again, smells like misogyny.  Smells like an implanted narrative. 

See, majority of the “GTS” (Gratuitous Trivial Silliness) -producers just conjure their content to receive likes, appease the intrusive thoughts living rent-free in their head and most importantly validation for their Misandrist-macabre & maybe money from the fellow members. 

The actual overtones of what they’re spreading out in the Human races digital continuity (Inter-Nets) and how that insults/slanders women or what that says about them because that’s coming from their own heart & mind about women- that  will never sink in for them to devote 5 seconds of self-awareness. 

Or they did, and just don’t care because they know nobody replying will say anything less than “More please!”

Too much dopamine addiction to the validation to properly think about the subtext or what they’re actually communicating by drawing/shooting/programming  the same crap over and over again.

A beautifully implanted rotted seed (on part of the powers sabotaging men & women), twisted, horrifically sick joke. 

Completely Anti-Human narrative, because who even portrays women like that, all women wanted was Equality. Why do we absolutely need them to loom over us like overlords when they actually just want someone to love them, listen to them, and see them? Flaws and all.

That’s all women want. Women are not a mystery, they’re just made to be complicated by the media & hacks that dictate the prevailing narrative that articles spread like wildfire, because women being complicated helps the disconnection. It romanticizes it.

Tell someone a lie enough times then it becomes true.

Some bro’s propagate “Woman with power is a man’s undoing” / “The threshold of life being the merchants of death” for a living and sleep at night without considering “Why is that coming from inside me” ? 

Nothing. 

This is why accountability, judgement, criticism is necessary. 

It helps prevent society from becoming a mass asylum (where it gets to a point where a woman who steps on toys for a living is actually given an interview, yes this happened). 

It never “hurts anyone” until it does-

Just. Ask. JAPAN. 

(’2023 Japan Age of Consent Law change’, look it up and look up why they changed it)

Some commenter said something simple yet true on the same video where some goofy attention seeking woman who sells videos of herself stepping on plastic toys & sells said footage to mouth-breathers, she ultimately claimed “I’m a Giantess” (*nice job parents, good to know where Americano Tax dollars went)

And the commenter didn’t insult her, they didn’t say anything wild, no essay, no lecture, not even something I personally expected, they said simply:

“Western society has derailed.”,

 that’s it.  It’s not profound, but it’s so candid & haunting. 

That stuck with me.

Because that’s the point.

And then if you’re not dealing with human footstools who want to be literal pets for giant-women, you have the other end of the spectrum: Man-Boyos who are actually toxic, the kind that grooms, unwanted advances persist then calls you a “bitch” because the situation didn’t play out how it did in his head, the R*9ists, harassers, stalkers etc.

Plenty of confidence, but misplaced, no humility, no maturity, nothing intelligent to say but talking the loudest. Can’t tell you how many times I almost threw hands with those types of dudes.

And in-between, you have the normies just trying to keep their heads down, live out whatever’s left of the “American Dream/ Theory”, racking up 50 exes every 6 months trying to figure it out because the only legacy society has to pass down to you is failure. 

Consider this hookup culture where women are expected by a lot of men to be LVL99 Sexperts but if she’s had too many partners she’s considered damaged/used up/monkey branching by MGTOW groups...who in concept should be a good thing, some good messages, but overall just boil down to divorcees & bitters bashing women while sprinkling “male empowerment” on top of it.

Again, we need less empowerment and more principles. With principles, you won’t need someone rubbing your belly telling you you’re a special girl or a special boy.

She hits 30, she’s over the hill when actually 30-35 is physically prime time to have babies. 20-30 should be young women figuring it out (mentally, existential), as with any adult.

Or women told/encouraged to “experiment” or made to think they can have the swingers life at 19  and then settle down when it’s convenient. 

Which they can, however, consequences don’t take a break because you’ve been taught to think that’s having fun- Then they’re worn & torn before they’re 25, just way too eager to sleep with 70% of America, like slow the hell down, jfc.

Have a laundry list of expectations for a man, but who you are doesn’t match half the good things you expect from him- How is that a recipe for success?

Just having your cake, eating it, and choking on it on both sides.

Both sides have podcasts asking “what happened?” or pointing the finger to the other side, when in reality--

 We’re not enemies nor meant to fight in nature, powerful women are not a threat, civilization NEEDS that. We need more women that earn their power, & have something offer.

A woman with advantage is not something that will threaten civilization, that’s advancement you goofballs lol.

 Ad proud men aren’t something to keep caged, broken and exercised.

We’re not even designed to fight each other. This is precisely the point as to how forced this all is.

We’re set up to be fractured and wedged from each other in a cultural sense. (because obviously people are still bumpin hips & having kids but some are not raising em worth a crap or training them to be useful or struggling to give them something good, or raising them up right just to be corrupted as soon as they leave the house, sometimes even earlier. some sects of Society are not even hiding that they are “coming for your kids”)

 “Everyone knows  what sex is, a lot of people know how to fuck. Nobody ‘makes love’ anymore.”

SO point being, finally, again: Propaganda is POWER. Propaganda is control (Not a new concept, it’s been said before). It creates delusions/& apparently fetishism. It creates false realities, conflict, disconnect. Lies. Lies. Lies. Propaganda is CONTROL. 

“power & control“, two words macrocreeps obsess over in fantasyland- same two concepts that propaganda is meant to take away from you. That is NOT an accident.

Drive the American sexes apart, division makes for a weaker people, weaker people are easier to control, birthrates dropping since the 70s (Not an accident, look it up & it’s got nothing to do with women going to school and getting jobs) 

And now Biden or the powers above him are making up the difference with an influx of illegals to compensate for what Americans are not birthing because of the disconnect and all the various side-effects of that and the propaganda.

American Feds has always been lacking, but this level of incompetence is not accidental. It’s sabotage. And it’s not new, it’s no different from how dope is implanted in Black communities so the community eats itself alive, remaining behind and seemingly primal.

Think about it, why would we need a New World Order, if one of the most iconic Empires on the planet  is successful, healthy and thriving economically?

The answer is, you wouldn’t need a NWO if the U.S. is King or a threat or taken seriously. 

(Even if you’re not the biggest fan of American history, or the current reputation they have with their poor wokeness & political embarrassments. Do not underestimate just how many countries look to America for reinforcement and an example & always have.)

So to fix that, you prevent The United States of America from EVER becoming a threat again.

And instead of picking a fight on the outside- infiltrate their political parties, infiltrate their culture, their pop-culture, propagandize what they watch, what the masses internalize, break the family down, drive apart men & women, promote alternative lifestyles, make truth an “insensitivity”, speaking truth punishable by legal persecution or being banned from social media (which is akin to erasing your existence in the modern age), and plant agents in the Senate that will (by vote) prevent any progress for the American people:

(Think in Newspeak or be banned for ‘violating community guidelines’, you vulgar swine) aka 

“Social Media” aka 1984: The Prototype

“there is no war in ba sing se”

Pay off the leader to literally allow illegals (that coincidentally involve a good number of your own nationals) into their country and make the legal citizens who are already desperate for better healthcare to then pay for the toilet-paper the illegals wipe their ass with.

The illegals aren’t the problem, Americans are letting them in there. Look up what one of China’s border installations look like, it’s a FORTRESS out of a James Bond game. 

Russia’s border doesn’t play either so why is America expected to be the fool?

Blatant sabotage. It’s all connected. Biden himself in ‘07 said a great nation can’t have weak borders (paraphrasing), now he’s changed his tune when what he said was 100% true.

Birthrates resulting from the disconnect, the disconnect resulting from propaganda, the fetish being the manifestation of the culture’s declining climate & hostility toward men and boys & trivialization of women & girls, dehumanizing humanity; As well as a symptom that the propaganda is working way better than intended.  

OR? the scary part? It was calculated. (doubt it tho)

PROPAGANDA is power!!! Control how people perceive reality & themselves, you control the direction of that society. 

Stepping on cities doesn’t compare to making a NATION eat itself over 50 years or less, it’s not even close. The slow knife cuts deepest, always have. 

(Notice how i’ve belabored & repeated some points throughout, that’s a methodology of propaganda, bombard you with the same narrative so that the narrative sticks, I did that on purpose just so you get a sample of how this machine is operated. Repeat exposure is form of conditioning, hence fetishism, repeat exposure. Repeat the same message. Repeat the same message.)

And because it’s working, Americans are likely past the point of recovery, social media is a powerful tool as well as an effective distraction.

If it took this long to decline, imagine how long it will take to repair the damage, and Americas will never be allowed to fix anything, not before another tragedy conveniently strikes or another reason to fight each other conveniently arises, more distraction.

The problem starts where the solution does, in the home, in your culture.  In your mind.

America needs more people, but the world is rotting, the times are going in a direction not suitable for children, or even if having/affording children is smart. You have a newborn that needs formula, you can’t afford insurance but your taxes are feeding an illegal’s kids. 

Who in their right mind would reward a society with another mind to corrupt, another slave to bleed dry and it won’t even help you raise the child before trying to feed other people kids- who trespassed to begin with and our own homeless are being exiled from cities like the trash you walk on?! *ERROR404*

But we have 50MIL+ for trespassers.

 It’s lose- lose for the modern Americano.

And don’t think Trump is the answer- while it is convenient that his trial happened just at the right time for this election to pop off (ideal distraction from something else going on in the world) these people will fight & debate on TV then have orgies on islands while you’re arguing with people you don’t know online because you think your political tribe is the answer to the world’s problems. When it’s all just manufactured chaos.

Make promises about things you can see, like “build the wall”, but bringing the country together? Bringing men and women together? Better healthcare WITHOUT subtext loopholes to fund backdoor deals in other countries? 

These antagonist corporations causing this disconnect in advertisements & movies, will they be falling in line to help your people?

Do the bloodlines that OWN these corporate giants give a crap?

If that isn’t the argument in the Presidential debate, you’re voting for an agent. (And I keep saying “Agent”, because I repeat: WATCH THE MATRIX again. Hiding in plain sight baby, in plain sight.) 

They do not care, they’re reading scripts, on orders. They promise you policy, when what will save you is unity in the culture. Literally just people getting along.

Help the culture maturing, growing up (pun intended, headass) , it will never happen. 

Why would Americans want that, why would Americans ever want the only real progress that will save their country? Unity. Cooperation. Coexistence. 

Apparently everything’s going great in America, why would people want actual progress that would fix everything, why would you ever want an actual solution when you can keep being promised one by people who don’t live in your community and own Islands to hand down to their great great-grands and yours live off of tips.

But you have 50 million+ big ones to spare for illegals? Hm, you cats got yourselves a paradise eh? Ready to fight everyone’s wars & fix everyone’s problems but your own.

Let them all in to keep families together, and drive your own people apart through movies, ads, games, articles, etc.. 

Your Gov. (and the powers above them) are giving Palpatine a run for his money when it comes to this Chess game play, my lord.

Ya’ll have been getting played, and played hard. 

That’s the only “Domination” happening here, the powers playing on the uninitiated, broken, lonely & longing and above all: distracted. 

Subliminally training so many to submit, hunt for likes from the collective, obey TOS or be erased (prototype martial law), and ironically want subjugation ie. train people to want what’s coming anyway.

All “they” (the token “they”) prevailing party- had to do was slap a woman on it. Genius. And the resulting atmosphere is hurting men and women, genius. 

Life was not meant or designed to be like this. This is why there are problems. 

Reverend Mother from DUNE PART TWO said it best: 

“-there are no sides.“

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: Unfurled Splendor [Yandere Xiao x Reader]

Title: Unfurled Splendor [Yandere Xiao x Reader]

Synopsis: You know daylight existed, once. You just can't remember what it really looked like.

For 2022 Horrorfest request: always night trope with xiao

Word count: 1270

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, isolation

There are certain things that you must tell yourself on repeat or you’re certain that you’ll forget them. They keep you tethered to the ground, sometimes by a thread, so that you don’t simply give up and float away. 

One, you were not always here, in this little house created inside Xiao’s abode. “House” being a lofty term for a space with two rooms, a simple bathroom and open living space. 

You used to live outside, and not the artificial outside that he created at your behest (and begging) but the real outside. With unpredictable weather and animals that did not behave on loops, only capable of repeating what gestures and patterns Xiao had created for you. 

There were other people, people who were mean or nice or somewhere in between. You worked at a job and went to shops and had friends and family. 

And there was freedom, most importantly of all. An elusive creature, now. It’s not something Xiao can create and set onto a carefully tracked loop, though you’re certain that if he could come up with a way to do so, that he would try his best. 

And two--this one is easiest to forget--it was not always night. There had been sunshine, once. Warm, lovely sunshine that dappled through the trees when you walked in the woods; that bore down on you, a hot blanket, in the summertime; that shone through your windows, waking you in the morning with the delighted chirping of the birds.

Yes, you had seen the sun… but that was a long time ago. Before Xiao took you here. Before you had gone nearly mad with being stuck inside all day, and he’d offered up the solution of letting you go “outside,” which turned out to be yet another artificial world of his own creation.

Before he’d decided to make it night time and never bothered bringing back the sun. That was… weeks ago, at least. You don’t know why or when he stopped bothering with daylight. Maybe it was too taxing on him to go back and forth between night and day. Maybe he just didn’t care. 

You do not ask him for the daylight again, because you should not need to ask. Yet that is what your life has become, reminding Xiao of all the things humans need to stay healthy and sane. Like a variety of food and not the same thing day after day; like blankets and pillows; like a bathroom with a  properly fitted tub and toilet. Like books or clothes or things to do. 

Not that he always gives you what you need. He considers most of these things “wants,” to be meted out at his own discretion.  

Sunlight, apparently, fit within that category of “want.” And no matter how often you stared up at the same night sky, wishing for it to fade or at least change, he didn’t seem to pick up on things.

It’s here that he finds you, again, staring at the night sky. Only this time your thoughts have grown so sour and introspective that there are tears in your eyes, sparkling in the cool moonlight that always shines into the window a little bit, dappled through a large, leafy tree.

If the tree were real, there might be any number of nocturnal animals that call it home. As it is, there is only a stationary night-bird that calls out exactly twice an hour. Mechanical. Like a clock. You thought it pretty once, but now you hate it.

There’s a touch on your shoulder and you flinch. Xiao draws back, and says your name. Evidently, he’d said it before.

You turn, just a little, and let him see your tears. Why not? It’s not like he ever responds to them, except perhaps to excuse himself or awkwardly shove a handkerchief into your hands. 

This time, he actually speaks up, although you can see the tension in his stiff posture.

“Why are you crying? What’s wrong?”

There might have been a time where you would have turned away from him, now, and went back to crying silently. Let him worry. Let him figure it out himself, if he could. But something about tonight--tonight? it’s always night, damn it--has you increasingly wound up. Your fingers curl on the windowsill. Your chest aches.

And so you whirl on him, chest heaving. 

“What’s wrong is that it’s been night for weeks and it’s driving me mad and you don’t seem to care.” Your voice cracks on the last word, spiteful tears sliding down your cheeks. 

 He stares at you for a few long moments before looking out the window at the sky he created. And then he looks back at you with such a confused expression that it makes you want to slap him and bring him into your arms, one and the same. 

“You… said you liked the stars,” he says, eyebrows furrowing. You can tell he doesn’t understand. He treats your complaints like that of a child, demanding something nonsensical in the middle of the day, perhaps due to a lack of nap. “So I’ve kept them there.”

You turn and gaze out the window at the same night sky that you’ve seen for weeks on end. You could explain that humans need daylight and sunlight. You could explain that seeing the same night sky for an extended period of time is enough to drive anyone mad.

Instead--

“Those aren’t stars,” you reply, quiet. 

Behind you, Xiao huffs. 

“Yes, they are. They look just like the ones--”

You turn on him, and your face begins to crack, eyes crinkling, mouth turning down. “They aren’t real stars. I want real stars. I want real sunshine. I want everything to be real. Can’t you understand that?”

Xiao’s eyes widen, and the look on his face takes on an expression of slight hurt. Just enough to notice. He raises one of his hands toward your cheek, moving to touch you.

“I… understand,” he says, finally. Slowly. Weighing your words and his own. You’re afraid to do the same, afraid to see you through his own eyes. 

So you shake your head, blinking away the tears, and crawl into bed. Maybe in your dreams something will be different for once, but more often than not, the night sky leaked into your dreams, too. 

You hear the sound of Xiao sitting down in the chair by the window as your brain begins to drift into the fogginess of sleep. 

When you wake up, sunshine filters through the sole window inside the house. Birds chirp in a pattern that you know will loop, eventually. It’s startling, jarring. Your brain doesn’t make sense of it at first. 

You slowly get out of bed, afraid that it might be a dream. You set aside the blanket, you stand up, you take a few steps to the window--and still, the scene outside is blissful, sweet daytime. 

Your fingers rest on the windowsill, soaking in the scene he’s created before you. The sound of birds--a few you can spot, but you hate to look at them, knowing that you’ll recognize their pattern soon enough. A mechanical breeze that comes every so often (you don’t count the seconds between them, not yet); clouds, lazily drifting by in the blue sky, and all of it lit by an artificially bright sun stuck up high. 

It’s not real. It will never be real. Only you are real, here, the only normal, human, mortal thing that will ever exist on this plane. 

Behind the clouds, you can see the remnants of those artificial stars, still twinkling. 

[moremaybank]

STUCK WITH YOU — j.m

day three reluctant friends to lovers with jj maybank

pairing mechanic!jj maybank x fem!employee!reader

summary working at jj maybank's body shop is no piece of cake when your boss clearly has it out for you. one day, the two of you get trapped in the supply closet, and you come to find out that he doesn't hate you at all. in fact, it's the complete opposite.

warnings 18+, unprotected sex, pussy eating, fingering, creampie, squirting, lamguage, jj calling himself daddy (as he should tbh), jj being an ass in the beginning

obx week ‘23 masterlist ;; jj masterlist

JJ had a reputation as the brooding mechanic who always seemed to be in a foul mood. His garage was known for its exceptional work, but he was equally renowned for his gruff demeanour. And it only seemed to worsen around you.

You, on the other hand, were his polar opposite. Friendly, efficient, and a vital employee in the auto repair shop. You were always bringing baked goods for the staff, buying cakes for their birthdays and giving them gifts when you come back from vacation. The customers loved you as well, always laughing and engaging in conversation. You were all sunshine and rainbows, things that JJ lacked severely.

Then, one hot summer day, fate intervened, locking the two of you in the cluttered supply closet at the back of the garage. The door jammed as it always did, and despite your best efforts, it refused to budge. To make things worse, it was just you two that day, everyone else being blessed with the day off. So here you were, stuck in a confined space with your boss who could barely stand to be around you.

"Great, just great," you muttered, frustration bubbling up inside as you jiggled the doorknob one more time.

"This is all your fault, you know. Everyone knows this damn door jams if you don't keep it open," JJ snapped. "I knew you should've taken the day off like everyone else."

"Tough, JJ. I don't care that I have to work under your glare for eight hours. I need the money."

"But I told you I didn't need the help. Now we're stuck in here for god knows how long, with no cell service or anyone to hear us for miles," he replied. "The universe must love me, 'cause I always dreamed of spending quality time with you in the storage closet."

Your jaw clenched at his sarcasm, but you weren't about to let him get the upper hand. "Trust me, the feeling's mutual."

The tension between you was palpable, and neither of you could deny that there was an undeniable chemistry lurking beneath the surface.

JJ paced back and forth, growing more ticked off by the second. "Why can't things ever go smoothly with you around?"

You crossed your arms, matching his glare. "Oh, please, as if you don't thrive on chaos."

He shot you a scathing look. "I thrive on fixing things, not dealing with your constant attitude."

"Well maybe you wouldn't have to deal with my attitude if you were just freaking nice to me."

JJ remained silent, his eyes darting away from you as he scoffed. He refused to take the bait. His patience had already worn thin, and the warmth was getting to him. So he slumped against the door, staring down at his boot clad feet.

Minutes turned into hours, and the heat was taking its toll on you both. JJ had undone the top half of his coveralls, leaving him in a white wife beater. His skin was clammy, and so was yours as you stood there in your buttoned t-shirt and work pants. You were far past dehydrated, and you tried to fan yourself with one of the folded paper bags you'd found on a shelf.

Suddenly, something shifted. JJ stood up, walking over to where you stood and running a hand through his tousled hair. "You know, I hate being locked in here with you."

"Gee, thanks."

He let out a sigh of exasperation. "Every day, I come into this garage and try to act like you don't make me want to pull my hair out. But being stuck in here, with no way out...it's making it damn near impossible to not act on my feelings."

Your heart skipped a beat, his confession hanging in the air. You weren't sure of where it was going, but you could see the vulnerability coming through.

"So, what? You're gonna stab me in the carotid with a screwdriver and put us both out of our misery?"

Your attempt at a joke to lighten the mood only frustrated JJ further. "Why does everything have to be so difficult with you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that I want you," he spoke. He took a step closer, invading your space as his eyes met yours in a way that sent shivers down your spine. With a low voice, he continued. "I can't keep pretending, Y/N. I can't keep pretending that I don't want to be more than your boss. That every time I see you I want to rip your clothes off and make you scream my name in front of everyone that works in my damn shop."

You found yourself speechless, the weight of his words sinking in. It was a side of JJ you'd never seen before; vulnerable and raw. You'd always known that he was attractive, but seeing him like this...it was sexy.

"JJ, I..." you started, your voice trembling.

He closed the distance between you, his lips hovering just inches form yours. "I can't keep pretending," he whispered.

Maybe it was the heat or dehydration that made you hazy. Maybe it was all the pent up desire you'd felt for him all along. But in that moment, you made a choice. Your lips met his in a searing kiss that was long overdue.

JJ's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. His hands slid down to your ass, groping you as you tugged him closer. Your teeth clashed, tongues stroking against each others as you finally let go of your control.

"You're gonna be sweating for an entirely different reason by the time I'm done with you," he rasped, hands finding each side of your shirt and ripping it down the middle. The buttons popped and flew in several directions, and you let him tug it off and cast it on the ground. His tank top was the next to go, followed by your pants and what was left of his coveralls.

JJ turned you around, your back facing him as he kneeled and yanked your panties down. He spread your ass cheeks wide, stretching your pussy into his view. He licked a stripe from your clit up to your ass, already tasting your arousal. He then dove in, feasting at the pussy he'd been dreaming about for months.

You cried out for him, your hands finding the shelves in front of you and gripping them tightly. "JJ, fuck."

He hummed into you, showing you that he was enjoying it as much as you were. His fingers found your clit and he started to rub circles into it as his tongue fucked your entrance. You were dripping down his chin, as he worked you up more and more. He drew your orgasm from you swiftly, his skilled tongue working wonders on you.

When he stood up, he spun you around once more and roughly pulled your bra down, exposing your tits. "I could cum just by looking at these, princess."

You blushed under his intense gaze, and pulled him in for another kiss. His hands found the backs of your thighs and he urged you to jump. He walked over to the door and pushed your back against it, and used one hand to shove his boxers down.

"I don't have a condom," he said.

"Then fuck me raw." His cock jumped at your words, and you gave him a smirk, knowing he wanted this just as bad as you did. "I've waited long enough for you to make your move. 'M not waiting any longer."

"Your wish is my command, pretty girl."

He slammed into you, his hands steadying on your hips and pulling you down to meet his thrusts. He pushed and pushed and pushed, hitting your g-spot over and over again. He was so forceful that the door shook with each movement. Your hands were clawed in his hair, your head thrown back against the wood as he fucked up.

"That's it. Take it. Take my cock like a good fucking slut," he grunted. "Dick's so good you can't speak, huh? No more attitude for me?"

He was taunting you and you knew it. He was so deep, filling all your senses and making your head fuzzy.

"Tell me you like it when I fuck you like this."

"I l-like it, J. So fucking good like this," you mewled. "Right there, JJ. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

"Knew my girl liked it rough. You want more? Want me to make you cum?"

You nodded furiously, and JJ smirked. He went harder, raising your legs up and above his shoulders as he drove into you. Your skin was raw, stinging with each pound of his hips.

"So fucking tight I'm gonna bust," he said. Your walls clenched at his words. "Yeah? You want my cum in this sweet little pussy?"

"Yes, JJ. Yes. Cum inside me, fuck. I’ll take it all."

"I know you will. Gonna do whatever daddy wants, right?"

You cried out, your nails digging into the back of his neck. Your legs were trembling, and you felt your release cresting deep inside you.

"Cum for me. Right now," he ordered. "Right fucking now."

His words and actions hit you like a brick, and so did your release. You were screaming for him as you came, your eyes rolling back as the pleasure flooded your senses.

"There we go. Finally listening to me, huh?"

He kept going, trying to reach his high and overstimulating you simultaneously.

"So fuckin' tight," he gritted out. "You know how many times I fucked my hand, pretending it was you? Cumming to your staff picture?"

Your core fluttered at the thought of JJ getting off to you in secret. Had he really wanted you this entire time?

"Give it to me, J. I want your cum in me. Wanna be yours. Give me your cum," you begged.

JJ kissed you hard, and after a few more thrusts, his seed was shooting into you. You felt the gooey warmth inside you and you were delighted.

He carried you to the chair in the corner of the room, kneeling before you and sliding two fingers deep inside. They curled against your g-spot again harshly, making your legs feel like jelly. "I want one more, baby. You're gonna give me one more."

"J, no. Gimme a break for a sec, I can barely breathe."

"That's the point, princess."

His fingers fucked you harshly, and his tongue lapped at your swollen bud. He shook his head side to side, slurping at you and moaning into you like a man starved. The vibrations overwhelmed your clit, and combined with the work he was doing on your special spot, you were putty in his hands.

Your hands held his face to you, and your thighs squeezed his head as you ground against his mouth. You bucked them furiously as you chased your next high.

"That's right. Use me. Use my mouth just how you like it," he spoke against your core. His words died in the air before you came, your juices gushing out of you and drenching his chin and chest.

"Oh my god, fuck!"

JJ withdrew his mouth from your cunt and he leaned up so he could kiss you. He continued fingering you, pulling juices from you like you were an overflowing fountain.

"Mm, keep going princess. Keep squirting for me. I want all of it."

"You're so gr-greedy," you panted out.

"Just makin' up for lost time."

JJ TAG LIST (JOIN HERE!): @pankowperfection @oncasette @taintedxkisses @mvybanks @wildflwrdarlin @rafesveryrealgf @dreamingwithrafe @maybankslover @goldenroutledge @penny4yourthoughts @bmo-bri @hemogloban @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @maybank-archives @whoisdrewstarkey @aliyahsomerhalder @vigilanteshitposting @poppet05 @adoreyouusugar @f4ll-for-you @bbycowboi @rafesdirtyslut @venomwh0re @jjmaybankisbae @enhypens-hoe @loverofdrewstarkey @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @glen-powells @papillonoirsworld @em0-b0ysworld @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptheimagines @bloody-mf-bsc @maybanksbabe @sarah5462 @slut4drudy @lvvrgrl @dancinglikeaballerina @somerandos-world @shahanaazsoumah @peachpitlover @sya-skies @julesmendoza890 @emmalandry @blueicequeen19 @madelynie @jeyusosgirl @urbestieboo @payton-dixonreader @l1lactheflower @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @gillybear17

[aroeddiediaz]

8x01 coda- depression cupcakes

(Sorry this is super depressing but Eddie needs a nice long sulk after that devastation of a birthday party. Also maybe mild tw for some kind of disordered eating.)

The cupcakes should taste like ash, Eddie imagines. Cardboard, maybe wet sand. Something bland and sour, to match the blankness Eddie has been feeling as he watches Christopher get sung Happy Birthday without him, cut into a cake without him, play with his dozens of new friends in his grandparents’ backyard without him. It went on for over an hour before the laptop sitting abandoned on the picnic table in an El Paso backyard lost battery and winked out.

Instead, the cupcakes are sweet. Cloying, sticky sweet. The frosting sticks to the roof of his mouth and bits of crumbs get stuck behind his teeth. The kind of sugary confection that would have given Eddie a sugar rush back when he was Christopher’s age.

Eddie chews his way through his first cupcake mechanically, then reaches for a second one. Behind him, Buck and Tommy make quiet rustling noises as they take down the decorations and balloons they had helped him set up earlier. None of them have spoken a word since the interactive part of the video call ended.

The second cupcake wrapper falls in a limp heap on the coffee table on top of the first one. Eddie grabs a third cupcake. His teeth ache and his lips tingle as he takes another bite.

What if Chris never wants to come back? What if this is all their relationship will ever be, and Eddie fucked it all up for the last time? What if Chris is so happy with his goddamn pool club and his new neighborhood kid friends and Eddie’s parents build him a pool so he never comes home?

It takes increasing amounts of effort, it feels, to wallow each thick wad of chewed up cupcake matter. It clumps up, sticks to his throat. He can taste sugar now, even when his mouth is empty.

He takes another bite, only to taste dry crumbs on paper. He already finished the third cupcake.

He drops the third wrapper on top of the other two. Somehow Eddie doesn’t feel full, he doesn’t think. At least, no fuller than he had been before he started on the cupcakes. There’s a creeping sour taste in his mouth, and some sensitivity in his molars when he runs his tongue along the gums.

He reaches for a fourth cupcake.

Buck’s hand lashes out and grabs him by the wrist before he reaches the tray of cupcakes.

“Uh, whoa there, buddy,” Buck says with a hesitant chuckle. “Maybe save some for the rest of us, huh?”

Eddie blinks. Suddenly, like his senses had been turned down and just now returned to full volume, he feels aware of sensations all over himself, none of them particularly pleasant. Sticky, greasy fingers. An unpleasant rumble somewhere in his intestines. More dry stickiness across his mouth, chin, and for some reason, a single fingerprint on his cheekbone. And his mouth tastes like a sewer rat had crawled in to die.

Eddie gags a little, trying to summon enough saliva to wash out the sourness in his mouth. He struggles to his feet, ready to duck into the kitchen to grab a cup of water, and maybe gargle in the sink a few times.

Before he can make it anywhere, Tommy’s there, holding a bottle out to him. Eddie takes it gratefully, not quite able to look him in the eyes. “Thanks,” he mumbles as he cracks open the cap and takes a long swig.

Eddie takes a look around. The decorations are all gone now, all the streamers and party hats and balloons. Everything except the half-eaten tray of cupcakes in front of him. Looking at it turns his stomach a little now.

“You guys take the rest of the cupcakes home with you, ok?” Eddie says. “I think i just ate more sugar in one sitting than I did all month long.”

Buck and Tommy exchange a wordless glance over Eddie’s head. Silently, Tommy reaches for the tray of cupcakes.

Buck nudges Eddie’s shoulder. It’s probably the one part of him that isn’t covered in sugar residue. “Hey,” he says softly. “I know that was rough. But I promise things won’t be like this forever. He’ll come around, you’ll see.”

“When, Buck?” Eddie says, clutching the bottle tightly enough that the plastic bends and creaks. “It’s been months already, and he’s barely said a word to me.”

Buck tries for a smile, but his eyes are tight and his voice trembles a little. “You just gotta show him. Show that you’re not going anywhere.”

Eddie nods helplessly. Nothing to do but sit and wait. Sit and pray.

Eddie missed three birthdays when Chris was a baby, out on deployments or in a hospital waiting for his bullet holes to heal up. All he can do is hope that by Chris’s next birthday, things will be different.

tagging: @cal-daisies-and-briars @aspecbuddie @pirrusstuff @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @lemonzestywrites @your-catfish-friend @inkmortal-trash389 @evanbegins @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @diazsdimples @epicbuddieficrecs @kitteneddiediaz @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @coatedpanda16 @nicotinewrites @estheticpotaeto @babytrapperdiaz @snowviolettwhite @wikiangela @jesuiscenseedormir @made-ofmemories @asexual-fandom-queen

[arafilez]

☆ ⼂ SIGNIFICANT (B)OTHER ﹗

ꔫㅤㅤ ❜[ hjs x fem!reader ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤfluff, slight e2l 𓏧 you are very tired of the fact that everyone believes Han Jisung is the picture-perfect boy of the school ㅤ warnings none ㅤ﹢ㅤ1.2k wc

You looked around the school locker waiting for your friend to enter. Tapping your feet impatiently you closed your phone throwing it inside as Jongho was late for the nth time. As you turned away from the locker a strong scent of deodorant filled your nose and you hated how you recognized it immediately.

Taking a deep breath you clicked your tongue cursing Jongho when you came to face to face with Jisung. A smile plastered to his face, a tie perfectly attached to his neck, and proper full sleeves like the best boy.

Except he was not!

You see you hated Han Jisung, okay maybe hate was a strong word. No, you really did hate him. You hated his perfect aura, how he had everyone swooning over him and you hated how much of a model student he was. He was always so sweet and sugary with his words that people overlooked the pure evil residing within him.

“Sweetheart, long time no see,” you hear his voice speak to you, which you would admit was rather annoyingly squeaky than melodious.

“Don’t call me that” You grit your teeth looking at him as he smiled sweetly. You rolled your eyes once and left before he could further comment anything.

As usual, Jongho got scolded for being late to class and he made his way to you after his scolding and sat down. Giving his big gummy smile he offered you a piece of chocolate before withdrawing it seeing your glaring face.

“So someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” he said smiling as you gave him a cold stare.

“If someone wasn’t late today I wouldn’t have had to face Mr Asshole,” you gritted your teeth at Jongho who just replied with a shrug.

You looked away from him your eyes directly landing on Han Jisung in the corner bench of the first row and your breath got stuck in your throat. There he was looking at you from the corner of his eyes and you stared back. All until that cocky smirk returned to his face and you looked away silently groaning at yourself.

“Can’t take your eyes off him now huh?” Jongho whispered as you elbowed him slightly.

“I am not staring,” you whispered back.

“Sure, you are not, your eyes just happen to get stuck on Han Jisung,” he giggled as you glared at him for probably the nth time that day.

“Jjong cut it out, I swear, it’s not like his annoyingly handsome face attracts me,” you scoffed looking away.

Jongho snickered saying, “Sweetie I am your best friend, I have heard you muttering his name in your sleep.”

“That was one time,” you hissed at him as he shook his head getting tired of your denials.

“Just admit you like him,” where is the harm?” Jongho sighed as you shook your head and pouted.

You did not like Han Jisung quite possibly. He was the most annoying person ever in the universe, loud- not that you were not loud, you were just equally loud and had squirrel-like features with squishy cheeks that you just wanted to pinch and a cute face which made you want to kiss his nose that scrunches up when he laughs but such a beautiful figure which was admirable and you knew he was a dancer s his thin waist just makes you want to, and what the hell were you thinking?

No, you hated him and where were these thoughts even from, they are so stupid. No, you most definitely hated him.

The school bell rang as Jongho bid you goodbye saying he would be going to meet his seven other friends. You knew them all, all seven boys were nice and you would hang out often before. But after they all left for college your meets became less regular. Jongho still made time but you couldn’t.

You walked towards the school library which was open for two more hours for studious students. Walking inside, you went straight to the Physics section searching for a book on Quantum mechanics. You had an inventory project due and a quarter of your result depended on it.

The library was fairly empty and your shoes clicked a bit as you scanned through the books in the aisle. Suddenly your eyes caught a book on the upper shelf- Feynman Lectures Volume One. Blinking your eyes rapidly you questioned when your school library got such a good book.

You were not tall at all and thus you slightly jumped to get it. First try- failed, second try- almost had it, third try- curse the librarian for keeping the book on that shelf.

As you got ready for your fourth try you jumped suddenly at a voice behind you, “How long are you going to try short stuff?”

You spun around instantly replying, “Bold of someone to say who isn’t that tall either.”

“Tall enough to reach the book sweetheart,” he smirked leaning over your face and then looking up swiftly took out the book from the shelf.

“Feynman Lectures, how do you even understand it?” he questioned pouting and putting down the book on the table.

“I will at least try unlike your dumb ass,” you bit back your tongue knowing full well it was a lie. He was the smartest student in school and the most studious.

“Really, sweetheart?” he smirked hovering his face over your nose.

“Stop calling me that,” you fumed but it was more of a breathless sentence under his intense stare as you felt yourself getting hot and your heartbeat picking up in an instant.

“You are stupidly obvious you idiot, I know very well you like me,” Jisung whispered breath fanning your face as your back hit the bookshelf in shock.

“What? No, you overconfident man, I don’t,” you scoffed lying to his face as he bit back a smile.

Walking towards you he held your hands and said, “Well then fine, I guess I should just stop liking you and get over you, I mean since you don’t like me,” and he smiled, that same cocky smirk that you so much want to wipe off his face.

So you did.

Pulling by his collar you kissed him as he stumbled a little and then kissed back smiling into the kiss. It was soft and rough at the same time as you felt his hand cup your cheeks and lips blend. You both pulled back after a few seconds, you looking away feeling shy while Jisung rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.

“Um, I got your book down,” he whispered looking at the ground as you let out a soft laugh and looked up at him grinning stupidly.

“Well then might as well our first date be here,” you said softly, playing with the hems of your skirt as he smiled saying, “Sure, sweetheart.”

“Stop oh my god,” you whined knowing full well he won’t. Not that you want him to though. 

ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ ara's notes ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤmy first ever fic on tumblr, reposting from my deleted account, thank you for supporting. cries. the third picture is from @kyrjnie and her microscope ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ taglist ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤ@haneagerr ㅤmain mlistㅤ skz mlistㅤ navi ㅤ to add to taglist

© arafilez on tumblr. please don't copy and repost my work as your own

[magiccath]

It had to be you

tenth doctor x GN!reader

summary: what if it had been you in the radiation cell instead of Wilf?

A/N: sorry not sorry for this one

You really didn’t mean to get trapped. 

There were two glass cells. At least one of them needed to be operated at all times for the alien machinery to work. To open one door, you had to press a button in the opposite cell. 

There had been a man, a terrified civilian, stuck in one of the boxes. So you did what you always did - saved the civilian without really thinking. Now, you were stuck.

You supposed it was all fine now, though. The Time Lords had left, pushed back into the time vortex by the Doctor. All was well, right?

“Doctor?” you asked, your voice shaky “If you could let me out.” 

He turned his attention to you, his face riddled with sadness. You didn’t understand why he was so upset. All he needed to do was use the Sonic to unlock the door. 

“Yeah,” he said, smiling sadly. 

“There’s… well there’s a bit of a noise going on in here. Can you please get me out?” you asked, worry seeping into your voice. You didn’t want to seem too scared, but you were.

“The Master left the nuclear bolt running. It’s gone into overload,” He explained, but not like he usually did. There was no childish excitement, and his words were slow and simple. He never explained things like this to you, and it worried you. 

“Is that bad?” 

“No, ‘cause all the excess radiation gets ventilated inside there,” he gestured to the cell next to you. “Vinvocci glass contains it.” You didn’t completely understand the mechanics of it, but his tone suggested it wasn’t the best thing. 

“All 500,000 rads about to flood that thing,” he continued 

“Oh,” you laughed anxiously, “you better let me out then.” 

“Except it’s gone critical. Touch one control and it floods,” he pulled the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket, “even this would set it off.” He twisted the tool in his hands, staring at it with a disappointment you had never seen before. 

That’s when it occurred to you. To open the door, he would have to step into the radiated cell. If he tried to use the sonic, it would flood your own cell with radiation. He couldn’t get you out without killing himself in the process. 

Of course, this is how you would die. Helping someone else. The universe was incredibly cruel at times. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “Just leave me.” 

“Ok, right then, I will.” He laughed and began to walk away and for a minute you really believed he might leave you there. You weren't even mad. After a few steps, he spun back around.

“You just had to go in there didn’t you?” He laughed, but it didn’t seem funny to you. 

“You had to go and get stuck!” He shouted, voice cracking with pain. He was sad, and he was angry, and those things made him cruel. You knew this, but that didn’t make it hurt any less for you. 

“There was a man in here, he was scared,” you gasped, “I couldn’t just leave him.” 

“Cause that’s who you are!” The Doctor cried, throwing his hands up. He was right - that’s who you were. Something that only a few hours ago he had loved you for. Now, he seemed to resent it.

“Really,” you said, “just leave me. We’ve had our times. I can be done now.” You meant it. It had been a good run, but all things ended.

“No,” He laughed, “we could do so much more,” He screamed, tears gathering in his eyes. 

“So much more!” He shouted, looking up at the ceiling in agony.

“But this is what I get,” He sneered, “My reward.” 

“Well, it’s not fair!” He screamed, throwing a bunch of nearby objects off a desk. You had never seen him this distraught. He was such a peaceful, happy man. 

He was panting now, tears streaming down his face. The worst part was, you were stuck. There was nothing you could do to help him. Nothing you could do to calm him down. You were helpless.

“Doctor,” you begged, fighting back your own tears. 

He ignored you and started walking towards the cell. He had made up his mind, it was better to lose himself than lose you. He could never lose you. Ever. You were the most important thing in his life. “No! No!” you shouted, throwing your hands out, “Please! Please don’t!” you cried. He continued to ignore you, facing forward in a stoic manner. 

You sobbed, no longer caring about staying strong. You couldn’t let him do this. Not for you. 

“It’s been an honor,” he whispered sadly, hand resting on the opposing cell door. You shook your head, tears staining your cheeks as you silently begged him to stop. 

“Better make it quick,” he said before throwing the door open and stepping inside. 

You rushed out of the cell, knowing it would be all kinds of foolish to stay inside. You were mad at him, so incredibly mad for choosing your life over his own. 

Almost immediately, the Doctor began groaning in pain. He clutched the walls of the cell, scraping for any kind of support as the radiation coursed through his body. His knees gave out, causing him to fall to the floor. His hand dragged along the glass as he fell. 

You couldn’t take it, you rushed over to the cell. You placed your hands on the glass, desperately wanting to do something. Anything that could take the pain and suffering away. 

“No!” you shouted, banging against the glass as hard as you could. It wasn’t a pretty picture. In fact, it was far from it. Tears streamed down your face, and not in an elegant way. You screamed at the top of your lungs, guttural sounds that were painful to hear coming from your own mouth. Your hands banged against the glass. You knew it was futile, but that didn’t stop you from doing it. 

You couldn’t bear to see him like this. 

He curled up in a ball on the floor, gripping his hair in excruciating pain.

At that moment, you would have done anything to stop it. It could play out a thousand different ways, and in every scenario, you would much rather be the one in pain. 

Just as soon as it had started, it all stopped. The system shut down, and the Doctor’s body began to relax. You stopped your banging, stunned by the sudden calm. The room was painfully silent, your screams replaced with nothingness. The silence was deafening. 

Slowly, the Doctor got up from the floor and looked around at the controls in the cell. You couldn’t bring yourself to stand up.

“Systems dead. I absorbed it all. Whole things kaput,” he said, like it meant nothing. 

You sniffled the rest of your tears down, using the rest of your strength to pull yourself up from the floor. You didn’t know how to react. 

He pushed the door open with ease, “Oh, now it opens,” he laughed. 

He looked the same. He hadn’t regenerated or died. He looked… fine. 

“Are you ok?” you asked. The Doctor didn’t respond, he didn’t really know how to. 

You couldn’t believe it. He was fine, he was really, truly, fine. You threw your arms around him, holding him as tightly as you could. He allowed one of his arms to gently wrap around your waist to support you. 

You kissed him, and then you did it again. And again. And when you had exhausted that, you leaned your forehead against his, gasping for breath. 

“You’re fine,” you whispered, closing your eyes. He was fine. Your Doctor, safe in your arms. The two of you would be ok. It was going to be ok.

You pulled back to examine him, to make sure he really still was your Doctor. A part of you still didn’t believe that it was ok. That he was ok.

“Only a few battle scars to show for it,” you laughed, running your fingers gently over his cheekbone, careful not to touch his cuts.

When you pulled your hand away the Doctor grunted and ran his own hand over his face. When it pulled away, all of his wounds were gone. 

“Doctor?” you gasped, horrified. You slipped out of his arms, your feet planting themselves back on the floor. 

It didn’t take long for the Doctor to realize why you were upset. He looked down at his hand, all signs of injury erased. 

He took a deep, shaky breath, “it’s started.”

[occasionallycoinpin]

i need to know what that storyline for oc 110 was

i’ll be honest, i started writing it down, got distracted by other things, and then completely forgot about it until now

so i guess i’ll dump what i have right now, and finish it up later

occasionally coinpin 155

(collapsed for length)

(this is an m&l dream team riff so there’s a good amount of similarities bit whatev)

Premise:

Many years after the competitions end, a miraculous discovery! Leafy, while going through old messages to delete to save memory, finds an odd, unopened email from January 1st, 2012. As it turns out, Dream Island wasn’t destroyed all those years ago! It was simply relocated to a new part of the ocean, the robotic staff waiting ever so patiently for their new owner to claim her island. Leafy, ever the kind soul, invites everyone to Dream Island for a wonderful vacation!

As the BFDI crew will soon come to find out, there is a very literal reason the island is named DREAM Island.

The Arrival:

The charter ship arrives at the island rather precariously, so much so that Pin, observing the docking with her friends, falls off the ship and has her point stuck in the ground. While the robotic servants assist her, Coiny and the others must head along for the introduction tour.

Rather predictably, Coiny and Firey start feuding about something or other, which begins the first boss fight: Metal Firey (they had him eat a yoyleberry earlier to not burn down the ship).

- A tutorial fight for the basic mechanics, very simple as the only move Coiny has available is Jump.

- Done in a few hits + counterattacks.

The delay caused by the fight allows Pin to catch up with everyone else, and the welcoming festivities continue.

After a bit of exploring the Dreamscape Hotel, Coiny and Pin stumble upon a door which a robotic servant says simply leads to the basement. And indeed it does! Though the servant neglected to mention that there weren’t actually any stairs down, and the door simply led to an open chasm that the duo fall into. Time to find a way out.

The Discovery:

The basement is filled with crud you’d expect to see in a basement, as well as some basic enemies. The duo find the Hammers down here, an essential tool. As they descend further the basement starts looking less basement-like and starts looking more temple-like: the Dreamscape Hotel was built on top of the ruins of an ancient temple.

Deep in the temple, they find a wall mural of an ancient civilization seeking salvation in a figure that bears an awfully unsettling resemblance to Pin. But before the duo can dwell on this any longer, two Stone Pin statues come to life and attack!

- An exam fight for both using two characters at once as well as using the Hammers.

- The Stone Pins can only be Hammered at first, but if properly countered they will fall on their backs, allowing Jumps that deal critical hits.

After the fight, who else shows up but Golf Ball, immediately berating the duo for destroying such priceless archeological artifacts. She’s down here as she’s set up a Lab in the basement (because of course she did) and wanted to see what all the noise was about. The duo follow her back to the Lab.

The Dream World:

A small crowd has gathered in the Lab, curious as to what the ruckus was about. GB takes this opportunity to go into a lecture about a new phenomenon she’s discovered on the island: certain spots emanate a strange energy, one that she is currently researching located right in the middle of the Lab. Pin, not really paying attention, investigates the spot and nearly immediately passes out. GB, taking this as an insult to her lecture, goes on another rant, completely distracting her from the fact a portal has opened over the sleeping Pin.

Everyone in the crowd is surprised by this development, except for Pillow, who was seemingly expecting it. She hurriedly grabs Needle and jumps into the portal. Coiny, not one to stand by while his friend gets kidnapped, hurries in after them.

Coiny finds himself in Dreamy Dreamscape Hotel and soon meets up with Dreamy Pin, the embodiment of Pin’s mental self image. In battle, Dreamy Pin will augment Coiny, boosting his stats and enhancing his Jump and Hammer. After some exploration, the duo find Pillow and the now unconscious Needle, and a boss fight against Pillow begins.

- Pillow starts the fight by summoning a legion of False Dreamy Pins to surround her, which can both attack independently and assist Pillow with her own attacks.

- Partway through the fight, Pillow steals Coiny’s Hammer and disguises herself and the False Dreamy Pins as False Dreamy Coinys. She then proceeds to shuffle herself into the crowd, and the player must keep track of which one is Pillow. Jumping on the right one removes the disguises and returns the Hammer, while Jumping on a wrong one reveals it as a False Dreamy Pin and deals damage.

- After taking enough damage, Pillow flees the fight.

The Disaster:

Despite the fight, Pillow has enough energy left to enact her plan: she stabs Needle into the ground, creating a crack that spews a strange energy. Outside, in the Real World, the portal begins emitting this energy. Strange, dark crystals begin growing on some of the robotic servants, as well as a good amount of the BFDI crew, all throughout the island.

After the energy clears, Pillow takes Needle down into the hole she created, which closes up after them. Coiny and Dreamy Pin are dumbfounded, and, after breaking some of the dark crystal blocking the way, have no choice but to return to the Real World to reassess.

When Coiny returns out of the portal, and Pin awakens, GB can’t help but start asking a million questions about what had just happened. After one of the strange crystals formed in the Lab, GB attempted to harvest it to no avail before it mysteriously evaporated. After the duo fill her in, she deduces that the crystals must exist in the Real and Dream Worlds simultaneously, and while it is indestructible in the Real World, it is possible to break while in the Dream World. GB dubs this material Crystalized Somnolescent Energy, whereas Coiny purports the much more popular name Nightmarium.

Various objects start rushing into the Hotel, saying that more crystals are around and that anyone afflicted by them has fallen into a coma. By now, the duo’s mission is two-fold: find out where Pillow disappeared to, and destroy all of the Nightmarium that has grown across the island. While GB needs to stay in her Lab to perform more research, she produces the GB-Drone: a miniature drone that allows GB to communicate with the duo while they’re out and about. The duo set out to the closest location to the Hotel: the Fantasy Fairgrounds.

and that’s all i’ve got for now. if people seem to like this i’ll present more of the story in this fashion, and if not i’ll just dump the rest when it’s completely finished

[cokoweee]

It’s midnight which means it’s HALLOWEEN!

It's very spooky bc I’m bad at writing

~

Missing people brought with it a certain kind of ache.

 An ache that spreads and lingers. An ache that screams something should be there. An ache that grows when he knows they won’t come back. 

Nothing physical had been taken from him, he knew that. His fingers were missing, sure, but they were easily replaced. He had lost far more important things. Things he would never be able to replace. His body burned as if all his limbs had been ripped from his body. As if his body had taken it upon itself to manifest their absence. 

What a curious and powerful thing love was. The idea that you can love someone so much that their absence takes pieces of you. 

He didn’t like thinking about that too much. Didn’t like mulling over that day to come up with a way he could have prevented this whole mess. The idea that if he had done something differently, he wouldn’t be alone right now. 

And yet, here he was. 

In all honesty, he’d expected screaming, wailing, the gnashing of teeth; the whole bit. He’d expected anything other than this- this nothingness.

The silence of his misery was jarring. 

Nothing but him and his thoughts. 

There was no reason for him to put on a spectacle if there was no one to see it. Nothing but the walls of his empty house and the coding of a mechanical friend. 

Better for those thoughts to rot in his chest than messy the air anyway. 

He set his bō down on the shelf softly. There was no use for it anymore. Why he’d even held onto it for the last few weeks was a mystery to him. 

His eyes burned as blinked away his sleeplessness. 

The music only worked so well.

He ran his fingers over the cool metal. It had been two months. Four weeks since his oldest brother took his final breath, and fifty nine days since he had lost his twin. 

But who was counting?

He inhaled deeply as he turned away from the shelf. His hand wandered to his wrist, he ran his hand over the worn fabric sitting there. Just as quickly as he had placed his hand, he yanked it away. He didn’t need to wear the fabric down anymore. It was the last he had of them. 

The sink was dripping loudly in the bathroom a few feet away. It was a constant rhythmic noise. If he just turned the bolt a smidge it would stop.  

There was no one to be useful for anymore. Anything he did was just a distraction from the issue at hand. Better to just let it stay the way it was. 

His feet stayed planted on the floor. 

Taking a few wobbly steps to the bathroom he closed the door. He needed to be out of the sight of anything his brothers had touched. The masks were the only exception. He couldn’t let the last of his brothers collect dust on the shelf. 

They had each gotten their own bathroom after Shredder. He’d liked it that way a few months ago. 

His head thunked against the wall as he sank to the floor, tile burning ice cold against his skin. It was nice, bringing him a little closer to reality. He was stuck in nothing more than a dim haze. Just enough to take away the sharp edge of reality, but not quite enough to dull his pain. 

He closed his eyes leaning against the wall as he took a deep breath. 

He needed to stop thinking so much. Running circles through his head was doing him no good. Maybe shutting his eyes for a moment would help him get back on track. Then he could work on making sure Shelldon couldn’t leave him too. 

~

He jolted, his eyes snapping open, an odd sound filling his ears.

The sink was still dripping.

Louder this time. 

He didn’t move to fix it, instead pressing himself further against the wall. Sighing, he turned his gaze to the peeling wallpaper in front of him. Tiny flowers were fading from the landscape, their vibrant colors were long gone, age wearing their liveliness away. 

It smelled weird. Like old people and musty books. 

The wallpaper was hideous, and practically falling off the wall. He needed to replace it. It was actually a wonder Leo hadn’t commented on it. How it had even managed to stay up so long was a mystery to him. 

Blinking blearily, he reached out to peel the wall covering. He peeled a strip off the wall, reveling in the sound it made as he tore it away. He reached forward again, only to be interrupted by an agitating, grating voice. 

“Hey!” Leo shouted, his voice echoing against the small bathroom walls. “Drax ‘ll probably throw you off a roof or something if you mess with his stuff.” 

He frowned, his gaze still focused on the wallpaper in front of him. “It’s ugly.” 

Warm hands pulled his arm back as he continued to rip the design from the wall. 

He waved the hands away half heartedly, he didn’t want to deal with his twin right now. All he wanted was to go back to bed. But alas, the wallpaper was a more pressing issue than his sleep schedule at the moment. 

He shuddered as his hand passed through a solid mixture of warm air before returning to normal temperature. Almost like someone had taken a bag of gelatin and formed it into a person. 

There, but not quite. 

The dripping from the sink grew louder as he turned around. 

“Leo?”His voice came out pleading, tone shaking with audible stress. He hated it. Hated sounding pathetic and small. 

Leo stood in front of him, blood pouring from his carapace and pooling against the floor.

 “No. No. No. No.” He waved his hands around, attempting to brush off his brother as he turned his gaze away. “ This isn’t right.” 

Leo gave a smile and waved. His carapace made a grounding noise as he moved, filling the small room with a horrid creaking noise. It almost drowned out the dripping. Almost. Blood dripped faster down his side as he smiled wider, moving to sit on the sink counter. 

Leo opened his mouth to say something. He watched in horror as  blood poured from his mouth and dripped lethargically onto the floor. It was almost rhythmic. Almost in time with his breathing. Leo didn’t get to get a sound out before Don let out a yelp. 

“You’re- this isn’t real.”He backed against the wall, the rough edges of ripped wallpaper rubbing against his bare shell. 

Leo’s voice broke through the insistent dripping as he gave another winning smile. “Uh, pretty sure I’m real.” 

The dripping grew louder and louder, in tandem with his rapid heart beat. He watched the constant drip from his brother coat the floor, echoing along the walls until it was the only thing he could hear.

He turned his face to the wall. “Go away.”

“I’m trying to help.” 

“Go away.” He repeated, a little louder.

The dripping filled his head as he focused on the wallpaper. 

He breathed in and out. 

Maybe if he tapped his markings, they’d stop glowing, just like his nightlight. He patted his arm twice. He groaned as the glow seemed to burn brighter almost immediately. 

He yanked his hand away from his arm and focused on his breathing. Only for it to be  interrupted as something  hit the back of his head.

He ignored it. 

Another shampoo bottle turned projectile hit the back of his head, this time much harder. 

“Stop.” 

“No can do hermano.” He could practically hear the grin on his twin’s face. “Get up. Then maybe I’ll stop.”

“M’ not moving.”

Something clattered behind him as Leo presumably jumped off the counter to look for more things to throw at him. 

“I. Am. Trying. To. Help. You.” Leo said slowly, articulating each word, his voice a little strained. “I mean seriously dude? Four in one body wash?  You clearly need my help.”

“It’s cost effective.” He grumbled. “You're not doing a great job with the whole helping thing. So you can go ahead and go now.” He covered his ears as the dripping burned into his mind.

Leo grabbed his arm again. “Why won’t you let me help?” 

He shoved the arm away, shuddering as his hand touched the semi-solid of his twin. “Because you’re not helping! Have you ever thought about that?”

“Don- I”

“No! I don’t want to hear it. Did you think at all? What’s it like for me to have you here again? But I can’t keep you. You leave. Again and again and again you leave. How am I supposed to get over this if you’re still here but still so far away?” He stopped, tearing more at the wallpaper until the tearing was louder than the dripping. 

Leo was blessedly silent. 

“I love you. Do you know how hard that is? To have to deal with all this- this not you?” He waved his arm wildly, gesturing to the torn wallpaper and dim blue light illuminating the small bathroom. 

“I didn’t think abo-”

“Of course you didn’t! Because this isn’t about you! It’s about me! The one you left behind. I wouldn’t have thought that after killing yourself for me that you’d still be so self centered! And despite it all, you’re acting like nothing happened Leo! Well news flash! Something happened!” He spun around, glaring at the glowing form of his twin. “You died Leo. You left me here.” 

There’s a silence in the room, broken only by the constant drip of the sink. Something in his head is ringing, and it’s growing every second.

“I’m sor-”

“You threw away your life to save mine, but now you aren’t even letting me live it.” He whispered, taking his hands off of his ears to run them over his arms. “Stop trying to play the hero. You failed at that when you died.”

Leo responded, equally quiet. “I can’t leave you like this.” 

“Why?” He rasped “ I’m doing just great.” He waved his hand around the room wildly. “Can’t you see? I’m doing great!” He repeated, laughing as the wall paper peeled away from the drywall. “Just great.”

Leo frowned, blood dripping faster down his face as he watched his twin. The blood trailed down his body and onto the floor, costing the tile in sticky red warmth. It puddled around his body, just like it had when Don had left him alone on the concrete two months ago. 

He laughed harder as the thick blood poured nearer to him. Running to the toilet he jumped to the tub so it couldn’t touch him. 

“How is this helping me?” He screeched. “What do you think this is doing for me?Just leave me alone.”

Leo frowned. “I’m not sorry for loving you.” He stood up slowly. “Why won’t you just love me too?” 

There was a tense moment of silence before he disappeared into the air. Blue sparks stained the air where he had stood moments before. His heart wrenched as the light only made it to his nose. 

He was taller than his twin. 

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his shaky body. He’s both too light and too heavy. His soul feels like it’s floating above him, watching his flesh body move while he stays far away. 

He sat in the tub for a moment. A bath would be nice right now. If he wasn’t so tired. He stared into the mirror on the wall, and jumped. Shadows curled around him, wrapping against his arms and snaking along the tub. He froze, sparing a beat to look down, only to see that there was nothing there.

“Just you.” Something whispered from inside the walls, a giggle barely contained in its voice. 

“Just me.” He repeated. 

How cruel that felt right now. 

The shadow form nodded eagerly, slinking its arm around his shoulder. It whispered something in his ear too mumbled to be understood. Just general phonics and a prickle of amusement. 

“I tried everything to keep them with me. I'm only so smart.” He said desperately. “ I’m wondering if I was ever smart to begin with. They’re not here because of my failure.” 

The shadow snickered as he fumbled over his words. 

That’s right.

It's all your fault.

What a monster 

Such a bad brother 

He took a step off the toilet, gasping as his foot was drenched in warmth. How had he forgotten about the blood coating the floor?

Steeling his teeth, he jumped off his perch and landed on the ground. He needed to get out of here. 

His feet flew from beneath him as he slipped in the bloody mess of the floor. 

His hoodie quickly soaked through as he lay stunned for a moment. Scrambling to get up, his hands fumbled against the slick floor. His face splashed in the puddle, his mouth filling with a hot metallic flavor. 

He shoved the blood away from his body, forcing it to the corners of the room. His body shivered in discomfort  as the blood coated him in warmth. 

The masks. 

He ran to the sink, not caring anymore that he was coated in blood. He needed the masks clean. He couldn’t lose those too. 

Water rushed over his hands, but the blood didn’t run clean. It had only been a few minutes. How had they dried already? 

He frantically rubbed them under the stream of water waiting for blue or orange to peek through the mess. 

They never did. 

He sank to the ground, clutching them to his chest as if that would make them whole again. The door opened quietly revealing the old goat. He’d forgotten today was grocery day. 

Draxum stared for a moment before grabbing his arm and hoisting him up. 

“Go put some dry clothes on. I’ll forgive the fact that you’ve managed to flood the bathroom and tore down the wallpaper if you will go to sleep, boy.”

His frenzied eyes searched the room. Why wasn’t Draxum horrified? The bathroom was covered with the remains of his brother. 

“Ah.” Draxum said softly. “Let’s get out of here and get cleaned up and we can talk, yeah?”

He nodded, dazed, and let himself be led from the room.

~

The blood had stained his skin. No amount of scrubbing had faded the red on his hands. It coated everything he touched, leaving prints of memories he could have made with his twin. 

Now all he has is what could have been. 

Draxum was busy in the corner brewing tea. The kettle screamed through the silence. It hurt his ears, but he forced himself to focus on it. Better than listening to the insistent drip of the sink. 

Drax said he’d fixed it. But it was all he heard. Louder even than his own thoughts. 

“Sheldon?” 

A small automatic voice immediately quipped “Yes?”

“Run a perception check. Please.”

There was a quiet hum as Sheldon scanned the room. “Just you and Drax!” He said brightly. 

He hummed softly, nodding against the dining table. “Kay.” 

“Boy there is nothing you could have done to prevent that day from going any differently.”

“But there is!” He groaned. “I’ve run through my head so many times. If I had just moved a little faster, built my shield a little faster Mikey and I could have stayed up there to help. We wouldn’t have needed to open the portal because Leo would have never left.” 

“But the day is done. No use mulling over it now. You can’t change the past. But you can change the present and the future.”

“Don’t go all therapy on me. I could have saved them and I didn’t because I’m not good enough.” 

Draxum hummed thoughtfully. “Greif is the price we pay for love. You feel this way because your heart is full of love. I don’t see an issue with that at all.” He passed a mug of tea to him. “You’re trying to push away your grief because it’s weighing you down. But it’s a way of hanging onto the love you had for them. It’ll never go away. Find a way to make it manageable.”

“I don’t have a way to do that.” He mumbled, stirring the tea with a small spoon. 

“That's why I said find something boy.” He deadpanned. “Grief is love without a place to go. Find something, or someone, to give that love to.” 

He sat silently for a moment. There was no one he had anymore to give any love to. Maybe sometime he’d find someone. But right now?

It was just him. 

“I don’t think I can.” He mumbled quietly.

The old goat let him sit for a moment, probably waiting for him to come to the sudden revelation that he could! He could find a way to move on from this! What a stupid idea.

“When was the last time you went for a swim?” Draxum asked suddenly. 

“It’s been a while…” 

“ When you swim do you hold your breath?” He asked, face carefully blank. 

“I exhale as I swim.” He said slowly.

Draxum raised an eyebrow. “Why.”

“So I don’t suffocate.” He paused.  “Can’t take in more air if your lungs are already full. ”

“Exactly. And how long do you take to breathe?”

“Maybe half a second. Just enough time to get my head up for air and then I’m back under.”

“You are holding your breath And it is suffocating you. You need to find another way to deal with this.”

“I’m doing fine-”

“Let me finish boy. Find a way to exhale. It’s not going to be comfortable, but you can’t go on like this. You need to find a way to place that love somewhere else. Find someone to give you that breath of air, if only for a second.” 

He nodded slowly. He wasn’t going to do it of course, but if he nodded the goat would leave.

“Can I go to bed now?”

Draxum nodded “I’ll take you to your room.” 

~

He groaned and threw a pillow over his head. Rain pounded against the window, but a quiet drip from the kitchen was filling the room. Somehow, it managed to triumph over the storm raging outside.

 It was getting annoying. 

He got out of bed slowly and shuffled to the kitchen, wrench in hand. The kitchen was empty. Just him and the god forsaken sink. He twisted the pipe slightly, just enough to stop the drip of water, and headed to the fridge. 

Kendra had made muffins earlier, pumpkin chocolate chip. She wouldn’t notice if he took one right? 

“Watcha got there?” She said, voice still thick with sleep, annoyment creeping through nonetheless. 

“A smoothie.” He answered immediately.

“Put it back.” She knocked her head against his side. “Why’re you awake?”

He pointed wordlessly to the sink. 

She nodded. “I’m going back to bed. Your muffin is in the cupboard over there.”

He frowned. “Not with the rest?”

“I know you don’t like ‘em cold so I left yours out.”

His face stretched into a grin. 

Something funny bubbled in his chest. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He smiled a little wider. Kendra had done that for him. Without prompting, just her own observation of his habits.

He scooped her up into his arms, giving a tight squeeze. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” She patted his head absently. “G’night.”

He watched her give a tired smile, a funny feeling in his chest. For years he’d spent each day convincing himself that he was unlovable. That he was a monster incapable of feeling. Because if he couldn’t feel, and he couldn’t love, there was nothing to lose. 

But he had lost himself. Because as it turns out, you can’t push that sort of stuff down. People came into his life, unpredictable and wild. No longer could he push away his feelings, not when they were right in front of him. Tangible and breathing. 

The safety she brought was irreplaceable. The peace in her presence. Her quiet attentiveness. The surrender it brought from him. 

He took a bite of the muffin. There was a sense of awe in the fact that she had seen all of him. The broken fragmented pieces of his soul, his inner cacophony and yet, she was still there.He wanted it all. The pointless bickering, dancing in the rain, the jokes, the fights. He wanted her love. He wanted all of her. 

He’d always heard the idea that love would take his breath away. But that didn’t feel quite right. She didn’t take anything from him. She reminded him how to breathe when he had forgotten how. 

What a curious thing love was. That it could cause him to break off pieces of himself to give to her, and feel shameful that  it wasn’t all of him. 

He took a deep breath, turning the muffin over in his hand as tears pricked in his eyes.

“They can not be that bad.” 

He shook his head. His mouth opened, but no words came out. 

She opened her arms in invitation and he welcomed them gladly. She sat down, forcing him to follow. His head was placed in her lap as she began to braid his hair. 

She didn’t say a word, just a few quiet yawns as she worked. Tears fell faster as she turned on a playlist to battle the silence of the night. She wiped them away without a word, as if it were a normal daily occurrence. 

He wanted to be here. He wanted to live for something other than a heavy obligation to continue his family’s legacy. 

“I don’t wanna leave.” He said, voice a bit raspy.

“M’ not goin anywhere.”

“I know.” 

He smiled.

Loving her felt as natural as breathing.

~

doin a lil jig to distract you from my writing skills 💃

-writing anon

still reeling from the vengeance saga

This is me reading this: CAUSE GODDAMN I LOVE YOUR WORDS U GOOFY LIL PEANUT SMUGGLER

SIGHHHH Looks like I AM gunna keep going with the comic

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

Mr. Munson

Pairings: Older! Eddie Munson x younger fem!reader

Summary: You made a new friend at work, and she invites you over to spend the weekend with her. Her father takes a liking to you, and you find yourself giving him a helping hand late one night.

Warnings Eddie is in his 40s. The reader is in her 20s. Unprotected sex. Back riding (Is that a thing? idk I'm needy)

Not proof read ignore any mistakes

18+ minors do not enter.

Eddie and his daughter have always been close it was just the two of them since she was just a few days old. Her mother, who was also his fiancé decided to pack up in the middle of the night and leave them. There was no explanation why or how to fix things. He tried being the best dad he could for Chelsea. He worked hard, and sometimes he'd even have to bring her with him some days.

Eddie was determined to give his daughter a struggle free life. He was going to become successful no matter what he had to do to get there. Eventually, he did get there when he opened up a mechanic shop in town. Then, eventually, his own record store as well. He became an entrepreneur and made his own schedule.

His daughter never missed out on anything except having a mother in her life. That's one thing Eddie just couldn't succeed in. He tried dating around and having girlfriends. Only bringing them around his baby girl when he felt like it was getting serious. Just his luck, though they never stuck around too, long.

After a while, he gave up only doing casual dating and a hook ups here and there. Eddie being single meant him and his daughter grew a bond he wished others got to have. She was funny and sarcastic, just like him. They both had a twisted sense of humor, so some people got offended when they would hear them go back and forth.

Eddie wouldn't trade it for the world, though. This is why he also has trouble letting her go. He insisted she still live with him while going to college and working. Using the excuse that she should save up her money and move out when she's financially stable. When Chelsea finally got a new job in town and made a friend just a few years older, he didn't think anything of it until when he finally met you.

"Hey, dad, can my friend from work spend the night? " Chelsea asked as she was tossing her bag on the couch.

"You know you're an adult. You don't have to ask permission?" He said, not looking up as he was preparing them dinner. "Yeah, I know, but it's still polite to ask." He smirks when he hears her sarcastic tone while entering the kitchen.

"When is she coming over?"

"This weekend after she gets out of class."

Nodding his head and tossing the knife he used to chop onions in the sink. "That's fine, no boys, though." his daughter rolls her eyes at him. Even though she's an adult, now he's still weary of men in her life. He can be a tad bit over protective, but his heart is in the right place.

That weekend, after you got out of class, you practically ran to your friends car. You can't remember the last time you were this excited for a sleepover. You felt like a teenager all over again. Tossing your bags in the back seat, you jump in, squealing with excitement.

"I can't wait to just have a girls' weekend. I'm so sick of college, " you sigh, throwing your head back into the seat.

Chelsea just laughed at you turning the radio up a little bit. Sleeping with sirens plays softly through the speakers as you both ride through the neighborhood with the windows down. "Hey, my dad will probably be home, but don't worry, he's not like weird or anything. He's cool." Chelsea said over the music playing. Looking over at her, you nod your okay and go back to listening to the music.

Arriving to the Munson residents, you notice a few motorcycles parked in the driveway and a muscle car next to them. Honestly, from what Chelsea has said about her dad, you'd never guess he'd live out in this preppy suburban neighborhood.

They lived in one of those big mcmansions with fountain in the front yard. You felt a little out of place now being here. Chelsea always told you her dad made good money and made sure she had a better life than he did. He spoiled her rotten, and she wasn't afraid to admit it. You never grew up like she did. It was just you and your mom.

Your friend nudges you from your thoughts and pulls you through the front door. Kicking your shoes off to the side. Taking a look around your surroundings, you notice tons of pictures on the walls. Some of just Chelsea as a baby with a curly haired man. You assume that's her dad since he's in almost all of her baby pictures. There were some of him playing with a band on stage, too. He looked like such a fun and energetic guy. You can see why Chelsea loved him so much and always said what a great dad he was to her.

"Dad, are you home?" Chelsea yells in the foyer walking towards the kitchen.

"I'm in here sweet pea" He called back to her.

She motions for you to follow her, and your heart begins to race a little. "Dad this is my friend from work." She said introducing you.

He looks up from his magazine and stares for a moment too long. He licks his lips and extends his arm, going in for a handshake.

"Nice to meet you, sweetheart." He said, looking deeply into your eyes.

"Nice to meet you too, Mr. Munson" you say clearing you throat.

You don't know what it was, but something about the way he's looking at you made you feel funny. Funny in a good way like butterflies in your stomach. After removing your hand from his and introducing yourself, his eyes never once left you. Chelsea finally spoke up, telling you two would be going to her room now. Giving an okay and eyes still lingering on you, taking in every curve on your body, waved you both a goodbye.

"Well, that was not as awkward as I thought it was gonna be" Chelsea said flopping back on her bed.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't usually bring friends over often," Chelsea confessed to you.

Eddie had left his magazine behind and headed upstairs, wanting to ask you guys if takeout is alright for dinner. He was really just using it as an excuse to get another look at you, though. He stopped at the door and listened to your conversation. He felt bad for it he had never eavesdropped on his daughter before. He just wanted to hear if maybe you were talking about him.

"If I'm being honest, I think my dad likes you," he heard his daughters muffled voice through the door.

"What makes you think that?" You laugh awkwardly.

"Oh, please, I saw how he was looking at you.

Oh my god, I just had a thought. What if you became my stepmom?" Chelsea kept going on and on.

You look at her with a shocked expression, shaking your head at her being ridiculous.

"I'm like, almost your age chells." You told her trying to act like you didn't want that.

"No listen, that would be so cool you being my stop mom. I've never had one before, and you're my best friend it's a win-win situation." She said, her voice perking up more.

"Yeah, until I like have to bang him"

"Oh please, so what l mean yeah, it would be a little awko taco at first, but I'll get over it. Besides, he needs to get some," she said, laughing at her own joke.

"Chelsea, I really don't want to talk about me banging your dad with you," you told her, hoping to change the conversation.

Eddie slowly backs away from the door and sneaks back downstairs. He wasn't offended by what his daughter was saying. That was her sense of humor, and he loved it.

Later that night, you try to sneak downstairs for a glass of water. Going to open the cabinet, the kitchen light suddenly cuts on, causing you to jump. Turning around quickly to see who's behind you, you see him. He's standing with arms crossed over his bare tattooed chest. Leaning against the wall, he's giving you that look again.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Munson if I woke you."

He doesn't say anything back he's just staring at you with a smirk slowly creeping up on his face.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I was already awake. I'm having some back pain." He finally spoke up.

He moves away from the wall and slowly makes his way to stand in front of you."Do I make you nervous?" He whispers in your ear. Moving to look back at your face, you don't say anything. You just nod your head, yes, which earns you a soft chuckle from the older man. He rubs his scruffy beard and backs away to sit at the counter.

"There is nothing to be nervous about."

You still don't move from the place you've been standing in. You finally speak up trying to ease the tension in the room.

"Why is your back hurting? Did you pull something?"

He looks up at you with a smile. He jesters for you to get closer to him. "Can you help me with something?"

"Sure." You say as he grabs your hand, gently leading you down a dark hallway. He opens his door and motions for you to enter first.

Noticing this is his bedroom, you turn quickly to face him. He told his hands up, showing you he means no harm. "I was just wondering if you could rub my back is all." He said, sitting at the edge of his king-sized bed.

"Um, okay, what do you want me to do?" You aks him nervously.

He gets up and gets some massage oil from his large black dresser. He tosses it to you and goes to lay on his stomach. You move slowly and sit on the side of his bed, almost hanging off. "It would be better if you kinda straddle my back," nodding okay. You move to straddle his back, cursing yourself for wearing a night gown.

"Squirt some oil all over my back and pay close attention to my shoulders, sweetheart"

You pour a little too much of the oil on his back and begin to knead his tense muscles. Eddie, let's out low groan and shifts slightly, making his back put some added pressure on your clothed cunt. You continue kneading his shoulders and in between his shoulder blades.

Eddie moans loud at your skilled fingers, easing his tense muscles. His back is so slippery from the oil that it's hard to steady yourself on him without sliding around. The more you move around on him, the more your aching cunt begs for more. The way he's moaning is going right to your core, and you're thankful he won't notice the wet patch on your panties.

He lifts his hips and flexes his muscles underneath you. You bite your lip to stifle a moan at the friction. "You okay back there?" his voice makes you jump. "Im okay," you say a little too quickly. He smiles to himself, knowing exactly what's going on back there. He speaks up again,

"Take your panties off" he says with his low husky voice.

"What? Um, I don't think -" You try to argue, but he cuts you off. "Take them off and take care of yourself while you take care of me,"

He commands while reaching back and patting your thigh. You do as you're told and remove them, lowering your core against him. "Put more oil down, sweetheart, so you can glide around." He bites his lip, and you begin to pour more oil down his back.

The feeling makes him groan louder, and he jerks his hips back against you, causing you to whimper. Your needy pussy is practically crying out for you to grind on him. Spreading your legs a little wider so you can be closer to him. You begin to slowly move your hips in a circular motion on his back. Grinding yourself on him giving your aching pussy exactly what it needs.

Your breathing is becoming shallow, and you start moving back and forth against him a little harder. He shifts ever so slightly while you grind yourself on him, causing more friction on your pussy. Throwing your head back, you let out a loud moan while you use his back to get you off.

You begin to rock and back forth faster the wet slick noise of your wet pussy and oil mixing together makes Eddie's cock painfully hard. He can feel your thighs flex and squeeze at his sides. He can tell you're getting close. "Come on baby, use me, go faster."

"That's a good girl." You move to lean back and rest your hands on his ass. Grinding down harder on him, you feel a tightness in your core beginning to build.

"Mmmm, I'm gonna getting close, Mr. Munson" You moan out, voice sounding so needy.

"That's okay baby come on me. let your pussy soak my back" You move to lean forward gripping his shoulders as you grind down on him. You can feel it building up more, and you're getting closer to your release. You begin to practically bounce on him until your legs start to shake and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You bend forward, pressing your fourhead to the back of his neck crying out for him. You try to continue grinding on him to help ride out your orgasm. "Fuuuuck, I'm coming." You say finally collapsing and rolling off him. Your clit is pulsing at the intensity of your orgasm.

Eddie turns over to check on you and taps your cheek lightly with the palm of his hand. "You with me, baby?" Your eyes slowly open, and you look him in the eyes. He smiles down at you and shifts up on his knees. He starts to take off his sweat pants, stopping for a moment. "Is this okay? "Do you want to continue?" He asks you with genuine concern.

"Please fuck me I need you." Biting your lower lip.

He grins wide and grips his thick cock in his hands. You move to sit up a bit and remove your night gown, licking your lips when you see drops of precum leaking from his angry pink tip. You lay back down, and Eddie moves to position himself between your legs. He rubs the head of his cock at your tight entrance and curses under his breath.

He slowly sinks himself inside you inch by inch slowly spreading you open around him. Both of you throw your heads back, letting out a soft groan. "Fuck" He whispers to himself. Moving, he leans over you, hooking your leg over his arm while the other is his around his waist. He starts pulling in and out of you painfully slow. You move your head to the side, and Eddie takes the opportunity to attack the soft flesh on your throat.

He starts thrusting into you faster, making your tits bounce in his face. He bends down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth sucking hard. He bites down a little, making you scream out. His cock is pumping into you so hard and you swear you've never felt this full before in your life. Looking you down you try to see him fucking into you.

"Does my girl wanna watch herself get fucked?" He said in your ear before nipping at it.

"Yes, please,"

He laughs, and let's go of your leg moving to kneel on the bed. He takes the back of your head and holds it steady so you can watch his cock spread your pussy open. "You like that, huh?" All you could do was moan in response. Eddie begins fucking you hard and you swear you can see his cock buldge in your stomach. That tight feeling in your core is returning, and you know you won't last much longer.

"Please make me come again. I'm so close. Please, Mr. Muson"

He moves his hand from your head to play with your clit. He rubs your sensitive bud in tight circles until you start squirming under him.

"You're so wet and so fucking tight" He said clenching his teeth.

He begins to rub your clit faster and your pussy clenches around him. Eddie throws his head back at the feeling of you around him. He doesn't stop playing with your bundle of nerves between your legs until it has you shaking beneath him. Your second orgasm washes over you so intensely that you claw at his back.

Eddie can feel himself getting closer, too, with every stroke of his cock. The bed squeaking, and the sound of your wet pussy being fucked is the only thing filling your ears. You can feel Eddie's cock twitch inside of you and with a few more powerful strokes he's spilling his cum all inside your velvety walls. He let's out a long, loud moan. you have never before heard a man be this vocal before.

He stills for a moment, catching his breath and slowly pulls out of your sore pussy making his cum leak out. He rolls over onto his back and lets out a breathy laugh rubbing his face. You look over at him, wondering what was so funny.

"Fuck I haven't came that hard in so long." He confessed breaking the silence.

"Me either." You agreed.

He moves and grabs your face, gently giving you a soft and gentle kiss to the lips.

"Does your back feel better, at least? " You asked him shyly.

"Oh sweetheart, my back feels like a million bucks, sweetheart."

[nerdieforpedro]

Yes ma'am I am your new neighbor

Chapter One of "This is the Neighborhood Din"

Din Djarin modern AU x Sierra Harris (plus size OFC)

This fic is for readers over 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 2.2k

Summary: Din Djarin is moving into his new home with his young son Grogu. His next door neighbor decides to introduce herself.

Warnings: Din and Grogu being adorable father and son, nosy neighbor (she's nice though), Oogling (two separate occasions but who wouldn't?!), chill vibes

Notes: This idea of Din being a single father who moves into next door has stuck with me since last year. It was only a month ago maybe that I finally started writing it because I've had a block on other projects. So here were are! Please mind warnings at the start of each chapter. Thanks to @alltheglitterandtheroar and @megamindsecretlair for hearing me talking about this idea for a week straight while I wrote out the first part. ❤️ Divider is by @saradika-graphics

Main Masterlist/ Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) Masterlist / This is the neighborhood Din Series

Moving day wasn’t that bad, it actually went well as Din surprisingly had a few of his coworkers show up to assist with moving furniture and boxes into the three-bedroom house he bought for him and his son Grogu. A new job in the suburbs wasn’t in his plans at all. Nothing really was except his job as a mechanical engineer. It was a cool spring morning and he found himself removing his black hoodie and tossing it over the side of the railing on the front of his home’s porch. Sweat coated the dark blue t-shirt he had underneath with a small cinnamon hand tugging on the back pocket of his gray sweatpants. The soft cotton of his shirt stuck to his back as he turned around to see his son peering up at him.

“Daddy, when are you gonna be done? I wanna play in the yard with you.” Little Grogu asked, poking his bottom lip out with chocolate eyes that matched his fathers perfectly. Din sighed and took his large palm to pat his son’s head.

“Not yet. I at least have to get all our things inside before we play, okay? Why don’t you take in a few of the boxes, and I’ll finish faster.” He suggested, to which Grogu gave a moment of thought and nodded, skipping to the U-Haul truck where two of his coworkers were taking out more boxes. They handed him the smaller and lighter boxes and the group kept unloading the truck.

Johnnie Mae Harris had been expecting her niece Sierra since the morning. “Lord that child is always late, be late to her own funeral.” She was sitting on her couch, with a sleeping four-year-old boy tucked under her arm. She heard some commotion outside and carefully rose from her seat, trying not to wake him. She peeped out of her kitchen window into the house next door. It looked like someone was moving in, there were four men moving boxes and a child carrying small ones. Maybe she would make someone to welcome them later after she figured out who exactly was moving in.

“Ms. Harris, whatcha lookin’ at?” A small voice asked, rubbing his eyes. He didn’t feel her warmth next to him and woke up. He didn’t see his mother or father outside the window so he was curious what else she could be looking for. He then spotted someone who might be his age, the only other kid was his baby sister and she’s two, she’s no fun at all.

“New people on the block Quinton. Not sure which ones though, could be all of ‘em.” It looks to Ms. Harris like the men had moved in all the boxes and furniture. One of them was leaving and three stayed, likely to place the furniture in the house. It was about lunch time, so she made sandwiches for herself and small Quinton. His sister Delia wasn’t awake from her nap yet, so she had a separate sandwich for her in the fridge. Johnnie Mae figured she could go say hello and figure out who was exactly in the house. It used to be her friend Mabel, but after her second stroke, she moved out of state with her daughter and son-in-law because she couldn’t care for herself anymore. Ms. Harris picked up Delia and put on her slip-on sneakers as she was already wearing a royal blue velvet sweatsuit that had capri pants. She did make sure she put on her black bob wig that covered her thinning gray hair. Not dying it helped her hair to stop thinning, but it still wasn’t growing back in as it did say twenty years ago. Now in her early seventies, Ms. Harris felt it was cheaper to have a few wigs than to sign up for all those supplements. Once she put jackets on both children, they made their way outside to see about these newcomers to the neighborhood.

Din was satisfied with where most of the furniture was placed or put together, dishes and silverware were taken out and put away. He wasn’t sure which box had the pots and pans he’d need for dinner tonight. “Dank Farrik…I feel like I set them near the kitchen area but now I can’t find them.” He scratched the back of his head, his soft taupe curls ruffling between his fingers as he surveyed the boxes again. He pauses, not hearing his son’s voice asking him what they’re having for lunch, that boy is always hungry… Din turns and makes his way to the front door, opening the screen door since either his son or his helpers left the main door open. “These guys…” He sighs, he appreciated the help, but he preferred things to be neat and orderly, basically non-existent with a five-year-old and doubly so from the workstations of these two. Tilting his head, he saw an older woman in a blue velvet sweatsuit holding a little girl and talking to his two friends. Grogu was playing with a boy who looked about his age. Maybe they lived here in the neighborhood?

“Why welcome new neighbor! Aren’t you a tall drink of water? I’m Johnnie Mae Harris, I live right next door.” Din watched as her red manicured nail pointed to the dark gray house that had stark white windows. He nodded and reached out his hand with a smile.

“Thank you for the welcome ma’am. I’m Din Dajrin. That is my son, Grogu.” A chuckle left his lips to see Grogo excitedly playing with someone already. Her grip was firm and she released his hand before adjusting the sleepy child in her arms.

“Did ya’ll boys have anything to eat for lunch? I just made the children here sandwiches. I can fix ya’ll somethin’.” Ms. Harris offered, Din was about to decline, but Grogu interrupted.

“Daddy! Quinton said that Ms. Harris has ham, cheese, and spicy mustard. I love the spicy mustard!”

Din was going to apologize but Ms. Harris stopped him and told Grogu to come on over to her house for lunch. The single father’s two coworkers checked in with him before leaving, making sure he didn’t at least need any more help with the furniture which he said he didn’t. Din followed his new neighbor and his son into her home. It was cozy, she had various knick knacks and black ballerinas and some soccer players which Grogu pointed to, and Din made sure he didn’t touch. He didn’t need to be breaking anything in her home. The sandwiches were welcome, and he hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he ate two of the sandwiches and was looking for a third after downing two glasses of lemonade. Ms. Harris made small talking, asking about Grogo and what led Din to buy a house in the neighborhood. He told her that the schools were good in the area and thankfully it was closer to work and not further away, though he would have made the drive for his son. She wanted to ask about his mother and the very clear absence of both a wedding ring and a tan from one. It could easily mean he didn’t wear one, she knew some people didn’t or he be in one of those open marriages she’d heard about. Ms. Harris decided she could find that out later. She did offer to watch Grogu when Din offered to buy her more sandwich supplies after him and his son apparently had eaten most of hers. She agreed and wished that her niece was here. Once Din departed, she went back outside and watched the three kids play in the yard, Delia was awake now and saw someone new.

“I swear, if she doesn’t meet this man, I’ll have to make up some reason to do a second welcome to the neighborhood. Maybe he’s separated or something.” The caretaker mused, rolling her eyes at her niece’s continued absence.

Din returned with groceries for both Ms. Harris and himself. He assisted her in putting hers away first before taking care of his and thankfully finding the dishes, pots, pans, glasses and silverware in his black Subaru ascent. Having a few moments to himself were excellent. He could put more items away than if he had to worry about what Grogu might have gotten into. Most of the boxes in the kitchen and dining room he was able to clear out as well as in Grogu’s room and a few in his room. Before he realized, it was a few hours, and it was well into the afternoon. “Damn, I should go get him. I just hope he hasn’t broken anything; I know he likes to touch stuff. There’s a time and place, little one.”

Thankfully, Din didn’t have anything to worry about. Grogu was rolling in the grass with Quinton and Delia, the three of the giggling about some pirate king. Din walked up the stairs and took a seat in a rocking chair next to Ms. Harris. “Thank you for watching him, ma’am. He can be rather active, but he’s a good kid.” 

Johnnie Mae gave Din a sour face and pursed her lips. “Now Din, don’t call me ‘ma’am’. I know I’m old already. Just call me Ms. Harris. I appreciate that you’re polite though. You married hun?” She asked all in the same breath. Din blinked and she grinned, “I’m just curious. Don’t worry, I’m not one of those jaguars. I at least prefer men in their fifties. They’ve seen some things and might have some retirement money you know.” Her laugh was loud, and Din took a sigh of relief, at least she had a sense of humor. He pulled at the v-neck of his dark blue shirt to fan himself a bit. Given the time, the sun had warmed the air. The kids had long come out of their jacket and even Johnnie Mae took off the jacket of her sweatsuit to expose her black undershirt that said, ‘world’s best grandma.’ His shirt was sticking to him again, he normally did run hot and hated the warm spring days and summers. “You can take it off son. I’m going to go get you some water, you ain’t got nothing I haven’t seen before.” As she opened her screen door and walked inside, Din could have sworn she said under her breath, “Looks a helluva lot better than what I normally see though.” This earns a wide smile from Din as he removes his dark blue shirt and drapes it across the arm of the rocking chair. He turns the chair diagonally to face where the children are playing to see his son running around with the other two kids.

It’s then that a blue Nissan versa pulls into Ms. Harris’ driveway. She comes back out with Din’s ice water and hands it to him, nodding as she does. “Thank you, Ms. Harris.” He says before drinking it and she stands at the top of the steps, momentarily wondering what would happen if she was thirty years younger….

A stout woman exits the car and looks up at Ms. Harris, then her eyes widen at the sight of an unknown man who’s returning her gaze from the corner of his eyes. His dark damp curls are stuck to the back of his neck, beautiful bronze skin with a light glisten of sweat coated his body. On his left arm, were three black lines with triangles drawn from each line on his forearm and before he stood up, his back had the skull of some animal with tusks but three blood red lines going through the skull. Rising from the chair to turn and face the new arrival, she was able to see that he had a thin beard, patchy but it suited him as well as a prominent nose and an angled slope to it. He was tall, broad and solid. His biceps and chest were well defined, but he had a soft middle for balance which didn’t hang over the gray sweatpants he was wearing. On the lower right of his abdomen was a helmet she could make out. He adjusted his glasses and put on the navy-blue shirt that had been on the arm of the rocking chair out of view when she pulled up.

“Dear Lord in heaven I am not dressed or prepared to talk to that sort of man any day.” She muttered as Ms. Harris made her way down the stairs toward her, she hugged her, and her arms wrapped around her as well, eyes still lingering on the man sitting on the porch. His sweatpants did not leave much to the imagination. They weren’t tight by any means; one could just trace the lines. Thick thighs and well… heavy in the middle is the most polite way to say it. The only way she can think to describe it while hugging her aunt.

“Hey Auntie Mae, thank you so much for letting me come up here.” The two women hugged for longer still on the verge of tears. In thanking her aunt, Sierra remembered why she was grateful her aunt opened her home.

Chapter Two

Peeps who may also need to think of a polite way to say things while hugging a family member and oogling Din 👀: @readingiskeepingmegoing @604to647 @syd-djarin @yorksgirl @harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring @pedroshotwifey @drawingdroid @katw474 @trulybetty @bitchwitch1981 @soft-girl-musings @syd-djarin @tinytinymenace @djarinmuse

[girl-in-a-bubbl3]

Glamrock Monty (FNAF) x Reader Part 1

Notes:

AU Fanfic/NonCanon

Takes place after the fire

Animatronics are redesigned sorta

Sun/Moon are the same animatronic

Will probably be some spicy parts so...18+

No use of y/n, your name is Beanie now

Will probably be multiple relationships (I love Monty and Sun/Moon both way too much plz don't make me choose)

Monty saw her before she saw him.

She was a tiny thing. Maybe 5 ft tall with long green hair up in a ponytail that swayed every time she walked. She had tiny little dots on her face, like freckles, except they were multicolored.

All of her accessories seemed to mirror the themes of the Plex. Her earrings were different. Dangling from the left ear was what looked like a Sundrop candy wrapper, one of the Daycare candies, and the right ear was the same except with a Moondrop wrapper.

What stuck out to him the most was the red, star shaped glasses that you had perched atop your head. They weren’t purple, like his, but you knew it was a nod to him.

Monty stared down at you from the balcony in the atrium. He was definitely intrigued.

As he was staring down at you, Monty became lost in thought. Not noticing when you looked up and locked eyes with him.

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

Today was your first day.

Sort of.

Ever since the fire that happened two years ago, you’ve been onsite helping with rebuilding the Plex and the animatronics who got caught up in the evil plans of humans.

You still weren’t clear on everything that happened. You just got a call one day from a very kind but monotonous lady who told you that your uncle had passed and the Plex was now yours to go further with, if you so chose.

You hadn’t spoken to said uncle in almost a decade. He wasn’t very interested in the family, just his machines. You didn’t know much about him and when he made it big in Fazbear entertainment, he left the family to fend for themselves in a failing economy.

So finding out that everything was left to you was more than a shock. It took you over a week of weighing pros/cons and investigating to ensure it was something you could do. The one thing your uncle and yourself had in common: Robotics was your greatest passion.

You spoke to him about it only once before you went off to college for Mechatronics but the fever in your eyes must have been enough to convince him that you would continue what he started.

And you would. But you’d try to do so, so much better.

Fazbear Entertainment had a history of violence, cover ups, coercion, and a lot of corruption. That was something you aimed to change. It was something you didn’t really had to worry much about with rebuilding the Plex because that was simple but when it came to the animatronics…

The repairs, recoding, and reinstallation of new and old parts took you a whole year and a half. You worked from the time you woke up to whatever time you would end up passing out. The more you read the manuals, wrote your own manuals, and spent time with the unconscious animatronics, the more you could see how easy it was to get attached. Something you were so unsure of turned into the center of your whole world.

You had a little apartment built for yourself that was connected to your office so you didn’t have to worry about commutes anymore. The Plex was now your home too.

You had been gone for the past three months. You missed the animatronics waking up again because you had to be in meetings to discuss the politics of reopening the Mega Plex. That hit your heart. You spent so long getting things ready and you weren’t even the first to reintroduce them to the place that they had worked in for so long now.

You trusted the handful of mechanics that was over that, but it just wasn’t the same. And the grand reopening was in a week so today you were finally back to introduce yourself and have some time with the ones you had grown so attached to, unbeknownst to them.

As you approached the stage where your colleague was introducing you, you couldn't help but feel every eye on you as you approached the stage to make your welcome speech. You had received an ungodly amount of criticism since you took over the Plex in your location.

At 27, you were old enough for people to consider what you said but still young enough for everyone to think that they knew better. You were covered in tattoos and always kept your hair dyed an unnatural color. Multiple piercings in your face and you had to always have your favorite accessories flashing (it just so happened that most of those pieces were Fazbear specific). You were never seen without your rose colored, star shaped glasses. You weren't exactly the image of professionalism.

Stepping up and standing to wait for your colleague to stop talking, you happened to look around and take a quick peak at everyone around. There were about 30 or so human staff members. Janitors, other mechanics, stage hands, etc. And then you saw the animatronics. Your heart skipped a beat as you recalled all of the work you put in to each of them.

You tried to keep as much of their original personalities intact as you could when filling in the gaps that the virus left. You did change their casings. You wanted them to be even more realistic than they were. Freddy, Chica, and Roxy got hundreds of tiny little fibers that gave them that extra soft feeling that fur would. Monty was fun because he got hundreds of individual scales and the design made him virtually impenetrable with the tough, but smooth reptile skin. You didn’t alter much with Sun/Moon except for allowing their faceplates to move and change instead of the one specific smile that they were forced to keep. You figured you’d talk with them personally about more alterations since the daycare attendant was a little more sensitive than the others.

Freddy was sitting forward in his chair, trying to give the speaker his upmost attention. Chica was by the refreshment table, obviously sneaking snacks. Nothing new there. Roxy was sitting beside Freddy with her arms crossed, examining her fingernails, looking bored. You didn't see the daycare attendant and immediately a little of seed of worry started to sprout inside of your stomach. You'd have to go check out the daycare after this.

Monty was also missing. You searched around the atrium and didn't see his large, scaley figure. You happened to quickly glance up and your eyes locked onto a large, green figure leaning against the railing on the third floor of the atrium. Monty's expression was hazy as he stared at you, almost like he was waking up from a dream.

After a moment, it's like he finally realized you were also staring at him. He quickly looked away and scampered off until you could no longer see where he was. You made a mental note to check on him later as well.

“Welcome our new Director, Beanie!”

That was your cue. You stepped on up with a large smile and took the microphone. “It’s so nice to see you all, especially our animatronic friends! We’ve all worked so hard to be here right now. It’s been two long years and a lot of dedication.”

The rest of your speech was pretty generic but you still tried to be as inspiring as possible. You truly did have the biggest sense of pride looking around the Plex and it definitely reflected in your voice. So no matter what you said, the promise of the future reflected in your voice.

After everything was over and employees started to disperse, you couldn’t get the absent animatronics out of your mind. You excused yourself from the last bit of conversation and headed off towards the Daycare.

You were a little nervous since this was your first time meeting the Daycare Attendant but only because you definitely had a soft spot for the twins. Something about their presence was enough to hide the past trauma that always presented itself to the forefront of your brain at the worst times.

You worked so hard to make sure the daycare would be up to their standards when they returned to it. It was the area you spent the most time in. Fortunately enough, the fire didn’t touch their room. You decided to keep it exactly as they had it but you did add a furniture catalog so they could request anything extra that they needed. You knew your uncle never gave any of them that option.

You entered the daycare lobby and briefly marveled at the familiar bronze statue of Sun and Moon in the center. It was one of your favorite pieces that was a part of the daycare so of course you kept it.

You decided to use the normal entrance instead of the ultra fun slide that the kids would eventually use once the Plex reopened. You’d definitely tested it out more times than you could count when you were unaccompanied so you figured you could use the main entrance for now.

Approaching the large, wooden doors you stood for a moment and took a deep breath. Before you could even reach for the handle, the door in front of you flew open and in front of you stood a lanky, 7 ft tall, sun themed animatronic.

To be continued...

Author's Notes:

Hi guys!! So sorry this chapter is so incredibly long. I needed to set the foundation ;-; I'm SO excited to start this story. I haven't decided on what relationships will happen yet. My poly brain refuses to let me just focus on one lol. Definitely Monty/Sun&Moon oriented tho. Might sneak some Freddy love in there. Not sure yet. I hope you guys like the intro! I'm literally about to start the next chapter because I'm so excited. Stay tuned for that and another Bonnie chapter. I have most of it written but I'm having writer's block and can't decide on how I want to finish it. So sorry I keep making you guys wait for that. But here's this to fill the time until then! Much love and hope you guys enjoy what's to come <3

[slightly-warmer-hibiscus-tea]

My Touchstarved MC / OC time

Because I've been saving it for today^-^

[Warning: long rambling, and possibly no editing]

I have come to the point where I view the main LI's as my side characters to my silly little cannon divergent lore. So everything is completely made up, and also I'm going to rewrite my MCs to fit the actual game when it comes out. so there is my disclaimer before I head off into Lala land.

I've made different MCs based on the three backstories you can choose when you enter the game.

The Alchemist (Naudedel)

Hound (Hound)

Unnamed (Noble)

Each is still cursed but each curse takes on a different form or is gained at a different time along the journey to Eridia.

Noble is the one with the original curse from the game. They corrupt the minds of those they touch. Except on rare occasions...

Hound is a by-product of Nobel's hands. Hound is (till they reach Eridia...) the only one who can touch Nobel without punishment. Though she seems to have still retained her sanity, there is one man who refuses to deny the golden veins running under her skin.

Naudedel was an experiment gone rogue. An attempt to create an artificial God gone wrong. Turning his back on his creator, but still tries to reach for a false heaven on his own.

In my little headcanon world, they are all traveling together as a found family. Hound acts as their guardian, Noble is the oldest, Naudy is the weird middle child, and then there is Cetcher, who is a stand-alone OC who was adopted into their little family.

| And here is a little family photo/reference sheet :D - I'll explain the designs later |

Also, designs aren't finalized completely!! (which is why Hound is missing the prosthetic mentioned below)

The General BackStory: part I

Hound meets Noble when they are around six and takes care of them along with the help of her then-husband Cove. The two worked as mercenaries till taking Noble in as their own. The young couple promised to watch over Noble as they travel to Erida to try and find a cure for their curse. Along the way Hound and Cove hit what they called... a rough patch. Which resulted in Cove severing Hound's leg, not before she could take his good arm. Though Hound can't remember much of their life before that fight. She does know that he is still out there, and looking for them. But a swordsman without his dominant hand isn't much concern for her so she pushes on with the child at her side.

That is when they find Naudedel. The prodigy son of a mage who lived at the top of the hill in the remains of a small standing town. The mage was an older woman, but hospitable to the young mother and her child. She was also very taken by Noble after learning about their infliction. And wanted to help them in their journey to Erida seeing she had ties there from her past. This is where Hound was given her prosthetic, fueled by alchemy and mechanics. Noble took a liking to Naudedel despite his moody disposition and the two (to Naudy's dismay) were stuck at the hip during their stay. However, things didn't stay pleasant for long. As if the air changed in the small town, dire truths flowed with it. Hound and Noble soon learned about the true nature of the boy bound to the hill. The 12th experiment, the 12th body that surprisingly hadn't been dropped in one of the many pre-made graves that ran along the hillside yet. "What a resilient boy she's found!" was the last macabre expression Hound was willing to put up with from the townsfolk before marching up that damned hill only to find a darker twist in the doorway. Naudedel was the one to free himself. The one to kill his mother and step off that hill in his own shoes. Hound just happened to walk in front of him. Or at least that's how he is allowed to tell the story.

The now trio continue their journey, arriving in one broken small town to the next. Around the time the young ones are teenagers and Hound is theoretically pushing late 30s yet every familiar face they meet on the road swears she hasn't aged a wink, They start a town riot...

...

However, that's a story for another time. Anyways, the kids adopted Cetcher as their new baby sister. Cetcher worked as an assistant for an apothecary in town. Though assistant is more of a stretch, servant or pet would have been more fitting. The man running the shop treated the child less than an errand boy and refused to elaborate on where he got her. So Naudedel made it his mission to run off with the kid with the ever-so-graceful help of Noble. After convincing Hound to take her in, the glossy-eyed baby joined their one-wagon caravan. With surprisingly great help from Naudedel, Hound taught Cetcher how to read and write, which might have been the start of her greatest joys, at least in the moment.

But they were on their way. And spent another 5 years on the road before getting close to the city. But that was where they would part ways for a year. Naudedel had found a lead to possibly undoing Noble's curse. But it would be out of their way and a possible goose chase. And Due to an unfortunate run-in with a certain swordsman wielding his signature longsword in his non-dominant hand. They needed to get on the move fast. The plan was for Naudedel and Cetcher to go off the path and for Hound to watch over Noble and make it into Eridia safely. This was the plan, but of course, things would never go accordingly. Here we are in the current day, Noble alone in Eridia left in Leander's care, Hound presumed dead, Cetcher lost in the Fogfall, and Naudedel making contracts with deities he is too proud to admit are over his head.

:)

But yes, my cornerstones of my silly found family.

[blade-that-was-broken]

This doesn't happen anymore but idk I spent so much time trying to find it in my papers that I have to toss it into the internet void

The moment Spruce raced past John’s gesture for a hug, Branch saw his confusion and hurt. JD glanced around, like he thought maybe he got the wrong troll - despite them being the only ones there - but then he saw Spruce go to Branch for a hug and ignore him. He could see JD’s heart break. 

JD loved hugs more than anyone really knew. He struggled  a little with too much at once - which Branch knew he loathed - but he tried not to let that stop him. 

Branch managed to jump back, sliding out of Spruce’s reach. “Whoa!” he just grinned. “Look at you! Someone’s got some crazy reflexes! Come on, let me give you a hug! I haven’t seen you in years!”

“And whose fault is that?” he asked, flatly. 

Spruce stumbled. “Branch…”

“I’m not here to fight. It’s not about me. I’m here to ask for your help.” 

“For what?”

“The perfect family harmony-”

Spruce rolled his eyes then turned to glare at JD who was busy checking out one of the pools, curiously. He tipped his toe in and that jumped back a little, like he felt or saw something he wasn’t expecting. Spruce was glaring. “Did he put you up to this? He really needs to let it go.” 

“JD has nothing to do with it-” 

“Look Bitty. I’m happy to see you but him?” 

“It’s been twenty years. You’re still mad?” 

“It’s not like he apologized.” 

“Are you sure we are in the right place, kiddo?” JD asked, looking back at him, his head tilting a little. As much as JD had seen so many photos, they had all changed in the last twenty years. Spruce was no exception. Clay and Floyd wouldn’t be either. Without that connection of actually remembering them physically, it made it a bit more difficult for JD to identify those people from his past. 

He was probably missing most of the conversation. They had already talked a bit about it, that Branch should do the explaining. Although JD had a habit of making friends with people, there was a history here and their family held grudges. But then again, JD had lately been letting Branch do a lot of the leading lately. It turned out fine, most of the time, although Branch couldn’t help but be worried about the implications. Maybe he was overthinking it, which was entirely possible too. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Spruce demanded, stepping forward. “Is this a crack about my weight?” 

JD looked absolutely bewildered but finally took a moment to actually look at Spruce a little closer. JD shifted a little, as he often did when it came to people approaching him when upset. Some kind of mechanism, Branch learned, from living out in the wild. It wasn’t something he could really entirely shake. Not that he had tried to much anyway. He was very confused and Branch knew the feeling. “What? Why would I care about some dude’s weight? Each the nachos, man. You run a restaurant.” 

“What?” That seemed to make Spruce even more upset. “Some dude?” 

JD skipped back over to Spruce and looked at him curiously again, but he stuck close to Branch. Another normal thing. The two of them physically kept together when on adventures and other things. Safer that way. It was normal now. “This is one of them right?”

“Excuse me? You’re acting like you have never met me in your life!” Spruce yelled. 

“Not that I can remember,” JD chuckled, nervously. He was trying to play off his discomfort with humor. Just more normal JD things. Branch supposed they had always been normal to him but did Spruce know that? Did he remember some of those things from their childhood? 

“Just because I changed? That is so shallow and I never thought… How have you gotten worse?!” 

“Whoa, dude, chill! Don’t take it personally. I just-” 

“Don’t take it personally? How could I not?”

“Spruce-” 

“It’s Bruce now. And I think it’s time you leave. Obviously the Great John Dory has just become a worse person and I don’t need that. I’ve got a good life with a wife and family! Something you clearly do not have.” 

“SHUT UP!” Branch yelled.

They looked over at him. 

“Would you give it a rest and let us explain?” 

“What is there to explain?” Spruce sneered. “John Dory is here, making fun of me, trying to make me do a family harmony after twenty years of no contact, topping it off with pretending he doesn’t even know me.” 

“He’s not pretending!” Branch shouted, exasperated. 

“What?” 

“He’s not pretending. JD doesn’t remember the first twenty years of his life.” 

“What? What are you talking about?”

“When I was about six, JD stumbled into Pop Village with only the memories of the last couple years. He didn’t know who I was or knew my name.” 

“It totally freaked him out,” JD nodded. 

“I mean, we are kind of freaking out Spruce here.” 

“Yeah. It gets crazier!” JD added. 

“It what?!” 

“Yeah. The King was all like sweet, you can take care of him and I-”

“Where was Gramma?” 

“Asked where was his parents and B was just like dead.” 

“A long time ago.,” Branch frowned. It took a long time to work through that. 

“Yeah. Anyways, I asked B who raised him and he said-” 

“You,” Branch snorted. 

JD grinned like it was an inside joke. It kind of was. Their entire reunion had kind of become an inside joke for the both of them. Although it started rocky, things swung into humor pretty quickly. JD never held what Branch said or acted against him. Part of it was probably because he was young and part of it was simply because JD could find things to laugh at. And it was kind of funny. “And then I was just like ok lets do it.” 

“Let’s… do it?”

“Yeah. Been taking care of this little daredevil ever since.” 

“Daredevil?” 

“It took us a bit to build his confidence but he can keep up with me easy.” 

“Better, old man.” 

“Eh… maybe debatable but you're probably not wrong!”

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

Mechanical Bulls and Prom Dates

AO3

Summary:

While the boys in their friend group debate who could last the longer on a mechanical bull, Annabeth and Piper make a bet of their own about getting each other a date to the prom.

There are days where Annabeth wishes she knew Percy Jackson sooner. They had met in the fifth grade when Annabeth transferred schools. Which means she remembers the three years he had braces and constantly got gum stuck in the wires and he knew her before she learned to tame her blonde curls and mostly hid her hair inside beanies.

She spent so much of her middle school years at Percy’s apartment, watching cookies bake and doing homework at the kitchen table. Sally sometimes braided Annabeth’s hair in the summer before they went to the community pool. They were as close as two people could be.

But on days like today, Annabeth half-wishes she never knew him at all.

She catches him hunching over her favorite table in their high school library. It’s situated in the corner by the only working window which lets in a wonderful breeze on spring days like today. Percy’s sitting with some of their other friends: Jason, Leo, and Grover.

One might think the four boys are in deep discussion about something important—like the science fair project Annabeth is planning on working on during her free period—but no, Annabeth knows better.

“Listen, I could easily last 30 seconds,” Leo is saying, always the one to go for the long shot.

Despite their antics, Annabeth is actually glad to know them. Not that she’s ever admitted it to their faces. At the very least, they keep her life interesting.

Annabeth leans over Grover’s shoulder and sees a crude drawing of what she assumes is a mechanical bull. Grover has the heart of an artist but not the skill.

“Don’t tell me this is your idea of a science fair project?” She asks.

The boys all jump except her best friend; Percy is grinning at her. That troublemaker smirk that makes her want to hit him before he even replies with a smartass remark.

“If you must know,” Leo tells her, “we’re taking bets.”

Without thinking, she asks, “On what?”

“How long we could each last on a mechanical bull ride,” Jason says.

“Except there’s no winning because we’ll never be able to ride one,” Grover adds, though he doesn’t sound saddened by this fact.

Annabeth is calmly laying out her notebook and colored pencils to begin her own sketch for her science fair project as the boys continue arguing over who’d last longer and how they could test their theories with a mechanical bull.

Leo is in the middle of regaling about how he could build one when Annabeth decides to interject. Never one to hold back on shock value, Annabeth simply says, “there’s a bar on Clover Street that has one,” which causes Jason and Leo to whip their heads over to her.

She ignores them. Mostly because she doesn’t want to divulge her favorite spot in town—a combination book store and bar. It just happens to be within walking distance of said bar with the bull. Aptly named Mino-bar, a play on words of minotaur.

Annabeth has walked past it many times on her way to Boozy Books. She could fully escape there if she needed to as it was the only place in town where no one knew where to find her, except Thalia.

“So we settle up our bets and wait til we turn 21,” Jason says.

“Thalia can get you fakes,” Annabeth comments without looking up from her notebook.

Once again shocking the boys.

“I don’t know why you’re all so surprised, especially you Jason, didn’t Thalia offer to get you fake ids?”

“Um no!” Grover exclaims, “but she clearly got you one.”

Annabeth shrugs. Unwilling to admit to her trips to Boozy Books. It isn’t like she really used the fake id to get alcohol that much.

The volume of their arguing was getting louder.

“Alright losers, you need to quiet down before we all get kicked out of here,” Annabeth says, “I have a half hour left to get started on this project and I intend to do just that.”

To their credit, the boys do settle down. Grover even joins Annabeth and pulls out some homework to complete.

By lunch the following day, Annabeth is hopeful that the mechanical bull bets have been forgotten but as she approaches their normal table Jason and Leo are deep in conversation about it.

“Thalia said she’d get us fakes but it’ll take some time,” Jason is telling him.

Annabeth rolls her eyes.

Finally, Piper sits down across from Annabeth.

“Did you get number 24 on the calc homework?” She asks, immediately digging through her back bag for the worksheet.

With Piper there, she is able to tune out the boys until of course the calc homework is put away, their lunches are just empty wrappers, and Piper finally engages the rest of their table in conversation by asking what on earth they spent the last twenty minutes arguing about.

“Mechanical bulls!” Leo and Percy exclaim.

Why, oh, why did Annabeth continue to put up with this?

“Right.” Piper raises her eyebrows at Annabeth, who sighs in response.

Jason goes onto explain the betting and fake id issue.

“Why didn’t you just ask your sister?” Piper says, “she got Annabeth and I fakes forever ago.”

By forever ago, Piper meant Freshman year. Though, Annabeth hasn’t really used it until this past summer. Unless the three girls are trying to sneak in to see a band.

“Et tu Brute!” Grover yells, “everyone but us got fakes.”

“What would you even use a fake for?” Percy asks him.

Grover mumbles, “I don’t know but it might come in handy.”

Annabeth tries to cover her laughter with a cough but once Piper snorts, she couldn’t help but join her friends. They sober up when the bell rings.

“C’mon Chase,” Piper says, lopping their arms together, “onto calculus we go.”

“How goes the plan to ask Jason to senior prom?” Annabeth asks.

Her face reddens.

“Shove it.”

Annabeth smirks as they walk into the classroom. Only after Piper has gotten her textbook, calculator, and notebook out, does she look at Annabeth sitting at the desk next to her.

“I want him to ask me,” she admits, not for the first time, “but I know he won’t. He’s too unsure of himself even when I’ve been pretty obvious with my feelings.”

To be fair to Piper, she has made it obvious. She flirts openly with Jason, she has gotten more physically affectionate with him—hugging him at any opportunity, and offered to partner up with him for this history presentation.

“What about you? Anyone in particular you want to take to prom?” Piper bats her eyelashes because she knows exactly who Annabeth wanted to go with.

Annabeth has spent the last 5 years crushing on her best friend. The last year of that she came to realize it was definitely more than a simple crush. She is half in love with him.

How could she not be?

Percy was so sweet and had always been there for her. They had sleepovers, spent weekends together, and tried their best to match their class schedules. He invited her to swim meets and came to all her debates. She loved his parents and little sister like they were her family. Percy bonded with her brothers and made polite conversations with her dad and stepmom. Their lives were so intertwined and had been since they met.

He made her so happy sometimes, Annabeth felt like she would burst.

“Now you can shove it,” Annabeth says.

Piper was going to continue her teasing but their teacher started talking, saving Annabeth for the time being.

Normally, Percy drives her home after school but he has extra swim practice this week because of some big tournament coming up, which meant Piper and Annabeth carpooled.

“Wanna come over?” She asks, pulling out of the parking lot.

“Only if we can get coffee first.”

“Read my mind, Chase, read my mind.”

Their favorite coffee shop is pretty quiet today so the two girls just decided to sit and do their homework there. About an hour into it, Piper abruptly closes her calc textbook and stares at her friend until Annabeth takes out her headphones, “what?”

“Percy Jackson,” Piper says, “just ask him to prom.”

“Jason Grace,” Annabeth counters, “just ask him to prom.”

“Nice try, don’t flip the script on me. You’ve been crushing hard lately.”

“Oh and you haven’t?”

“I’m trying to get him to ask me, you my friend aren’t even trying.”

Annabeth sighs, “Percy is my best friend.”

“And he’s also in love with you but whatever,” Piper says, quietly, “you just don’t see the way he looks at you.”

She had heard this before from Piper. But if that were true why hadn’t Percy made a move to ask her out? Nothing about their relationship had changed.

“I’ve been noticing since we were freshman,” Piper continues, “I swear you’re just blind to it because you’ve known him so long. He’s probably been looking at you like this for years and you just needed me to point it out.”

“Fine,” Annabeth replies, “let’s make a bet.”

“Oh? What kind of bet?”

“Let’s see which one of us can get a prom date for the other first. I’ll handle Jason, you handle Percy.”

Since Piper is so confident that Percy returns Annabeth’s feelings, it should be easy for her. Annabeth considers herself to be pretty persuasive and knows Jason just needed a nudge in the right direction to finally ask Piper.

“And the winner gets?” Piper inquires.

“Bragging rights for one, a date to prom, and…”

“And the loser has to ride the mechanical bull when the boys go.”

Annabeth sticks her hand out across the table for Piper to shake.

“You’re on, McLean.”

Annabeth spends the next two days plotting. It has been a while since Piper and her had this intense of a bet going and frankly Annabeth wants to win.

After all, she had won the last two times. Typically their bets were about the love lives of other people.

The first being how long it would take their mutual friends Frank and Hazel to start dating. Piper had insisted on 3 months, but Annabeth knew how shy the two underclassmen were and said 6. The second, about an impending breakup between Drew and some college guy she’d been seeing.

This time is different. By the end of it, hopefully one of them would have a boyfriend and hopefully it would be Piper.

She knows exactly where to find Jason during their shared free period: in the gym shooting baskets. There are some other students hanging out in the gym. A group of girls playing volleyball.

“Hey, Jase!” Annabeth calls out.

Jason dribbles his basketball and walks over to her.

“Shouldn’t you be studying in the library?”

“Haha, I don’t spend every second studying, Jason.”

Though she had been in the library doing some homework.

He sits down on the bleachers. “So, what’s up?”

“Well, prom is coming up…”

“Let me stop you right there, I’m honored and all but I know someone else who would much rather take you.”

“Look Jason, that’s not what this is,” Annabeth tells him, now curious as to who wanted to ask her to prom, “I wanted to know if there was anyone you were thinking of asking?”

She swears Jason is blushing but maybe he’s just warm from basketball.

“And if I did?”

“Let’s just say I have a vested interest in who you take.”

Jason nods but didn’t say anything more.

Annabeth wants to pull the information from him but the bell rings signaling the end of her free period.

Maybe this isn’t going to be as easy as she first thought. Hopefully, Piper is having similar difficulties.

During lunch, Annabeth hopes to steal a moment with Jason again to ask him but she also doesn’t want to alert Percy. Thankfully, Hazel does most of the work for her. She appears at the table, her lunch tray in one hand and Frank holding the other.

“So…let’s talk prom! I want to know everything since Frank and I won’t be there.”

The juniors had already had their prom just a week ago. Hazel had worn a gorgeous turquoise gown.

“Can I please go dress shopping with you?” She asks.

“Of course,” Piper says, “you’re always invited along. Not sure when we’ll be going yet.”

“It’s still 3 weeks away,” Annabeth adds.

Hazel nods. “Are you planning on asking anyone?” She directs this query at the boys since she already knew who Annabeth and Piper wanted to go with.

“I asked Juniper forever ago,” Grover says, “she’s wearing this lacy green dress.”

“Ooo do you have pics?” Hazel asks.

Grover, of course, does. It’s a beautiful dress, Annabeth has to admit. Juniper is stunning in just jeans, she was going to blow them all away at prom.

“Leo? Jason? Percy? Any plans for prom dates?”

Leo shrugs, “you know me, fighting off the advances.”

Hazel rolls her eyes. “Waiting for the right girl?”

Leo winks. “You know it.”

The right girl happens to be the head cheerleader who never spared Leo a second glance. Annabeth isn’t sure why he’s still vying for her attention.

“I’ve got the right girl, just waiting for the right time,” Jason says.

He’s blushing a little and wouldn’t meet Annabeth’s gaze. She takes that as a good sign. Clearly he does intend to ask Piper. Now all Annabeth has to do was create the right moment.

In the midst of planning Piper’s perfect prom-posal, Annabeth misses part of Percy’s answer.

“…I just don’t know if she’s interested in me.”

Grover pats his shoulder and lovingly says, “you’re an idiot.”

Which causes Leo to burst into laughter to the point of crying, “Grover and I don’t agree often dude so you know we’re right.”

Clearly, Percy has someone he wants to ask too. With the way Piper is beaming at Annabeth, her friend obviously thought the girl was Annabeth.

Of course, it’s then the lunch bell rings. Annabeth finds herself walking to class with Piper at her side still wondering what kind of girl wouldn’t be interested in Percy.

He’s kind beyond belief. He’s extremely loyal, defending his best friends to the death. He’s smart—more street than book sometimes.

“Annabeth,” Piper says, obviously not for the first time. “I asked what you’re thinking about over there.”

“Huh?”

Piper widens her eyes and does a dramatic eye roll with a knowing smirk on her face. She then leans in and whispers, “I’m going to win.”

Friday is Percy’s big swim meet. Their friend group shows up in all shades of blue to support him. They don’t care if it isn’t school colors, Percy knows the blue is just for him. Thalia, of course, shows up in the darkest shade possible. She’s hardly ever seen in bright colors.

Having graduated 2 years ago, seeing Thalia walk these halls is a little weird. Realistically, it wasn’t that long ago that Thalia sat with them at lunch or passed Annabeth in the hallway between fifth and sixth period. But somehow so much has changed.

“Is it me or did the school get smaller?” Thalia says, leading against the wall by the boy’s locker room.

“It’s you,” Leo says.

She glares at him, “it was rhetorical, dummy.”

“Cmon, let’s go in, Jason saved us seats,” Annabeth tells them.

Jason is spread out in the third row of bleachers. Annabeth sits closest to him, Thalia files in next, then Piper, and finally Leo. Grover was supposed to meet them here too but Annabeth can’t spot him. She vaguely remembers during lunch Grover mentioning something about seeing Juniper so maybe he’s inviting her to join them.

“Before I forget,” Thalia says, “here.”

She passes Jason an ID.

“Oh wow, thanks.”

“In public really?” Annabeth chides.

“What? At least it’s not drugs,” Piper teases.

“And mine?” Leo asks.

Thalia stares at him, pointedly. “I feel like you have to earn it.”

“There’s money at stake here, how come I have to earn it?”

“Money?” Thalia questions, “I need to be filled in. A girl misses one weekend hangout and suddenly no one tells her anything.”

“To be fair, they only came up with this on Monday,” Piper says.

“Picture this,” Leo says, “All 7 of us sitting around a bar, sipping beer…”

“I’m not having a beer,” Annabeth cuts in.

“Okay, us boys drinking beer…”

“I don’t want beer either,” Jason says.

“Does one of you want to take over this story?”

Jason and Annabeth share a look.

“We’re betting on who can last the longest on a mechanical bull,” Jason tells his sister.

“Tell you what, I want in on this bet,” Thalia replies, “and I’ll give you this,” she dangles the fake ID in front of Leo’s face, “if our boy Percy places top 3 today.”

Leo looks a little worried but Annabeth doesn’t know why because Percy is definitely going to place top 3.

“Hey everyone!”

“Nothing like being here at the last minute,” Jason says.

Grover shrugs. He’s holding hands with Juniper, which Thalia isn’t about to let slide without commentary.

“Who’s the girl?” She whispers to Annabeth.

“His girlfriend.”

“Thalia!” Grover says, “I didn’t see you there.”

They awkwardly hug in the bleachers.

“This is Juniper,” he introduces, “Juniper, this is Thalia.”

“Hi,” Juniper says, “it’s nice to finally meet you. Grover talks about you a lot.”

“Aw, that’s cute Grover.” Thalia puts a hand over her heart. “I am pretty great so that makes sense.”

Annabeth has no idea if anything more is said because Percy and his team are walking out towards the pool.

He’s in his usual swim uniform in their school colors but Annabeth’s transfixed. He’s always looked good in green. Even if the uniforms did no one any favors, Percy still managed to draw eyes. Annabeth knew there were other girls who came just to watch him swim.

She dreaded the day he turned around to the bleachers and smiled up at one of them instead of her.

Percy’s little fan club consisted of a few sophomore girls. She didn’t know their names but they were quite obviously fawning over Annabeth’s best friend.

But Percy pays them no mind. Instead, he finds his friends in the crowd. Percy lights up when he spots them and waves aggressively at them.

“What a dork,” Thalia whispers but she’s waving back like the rest of them.

The match is long.

“Mommm, are we there yet?” Leo asks, in a high pitched voice.

“How much longer?” Jason adds.

Annabeth checks her phone. “Maybe a half hour?” She says.

Percy is currently warming the bench. He finished his individuals and now was waiting for his relay.

He’s fiddling with his phone, which Annabeth knows he’s not supposed to do. But meets are long and their coach knows it. He’s usually a little more understanding especially if it’s just sending a quick text like Percy is doing.

Percy: bored yet?

Annabeth: the boys are Annabeth: well Jason is fine, Leo and Grover are tired lol

Percy: no surprise there

A whistle blows and Percy tucks his phone away again. In no time, he’s back in the pool.

If he wins this race he’ll place second. At least, Annabeth thinks he will. Scoring for swimming is still a bit confusing. Mostly because she’s not focusing in on the coaches and every time she thinks to ask Percy, he distracts her with some silly antidote.

When the last whistle blows, the teams are toweled and waiting for results. It doesn’t take long, thankfully, to get scores.

Annabeth can’t keep the cheers in when they declare Percy as second. In fact, their whole group jumps up and starts chanting his name.

They celebrate with milkshakes at their favorite ice cream shop. There they make plans to go ride the mechanical bull at Mino-Bar the following weekend.

“I believe I owe you this,” Thalia says, sliding her hand across the table to Leo, “Percy pulled through.”

“Percy did what?” Percy asks.

“Placed top 3,” Jason fills him in.

“Unsurprisingly,” Piper adds.

Thalia picks up her hand revealing Leo’s fake ID underneath, “and I believe I said I want in on this bet.”

Leo pulls out his phone where he’s been keeping a list.

“Place your bet, mamacita.”

She plucks Leo’s phone straight from his hands and types in her guess. Thalia hands it back and grips his wrist, “call me that again and I’ll kill you.”

“She won’t,” Annabeth says, noticing their waitress has returned with their check. “She’s kidding.”

Jason is the last one easing out of their booth so Annabeth waits for him. Plus, she knows their group is going to the small lobby to huddle around the singular claw machine they still have. Percy’s on this mission to win a stuffed animal from it; he’s been attempting each time they come to no avail.

She’s not even sure why he wants one so bad. Maybe it’s just the success of winning he’s after. Percy’s always been pretty competitive. Even if the game is against a literal machine.

“Alright Jason, when are you asking Piper to prom?”

It’s time for a direct approach.

He freezes for a moment.

“I don’t know how,” he admits, “I think it needs to be special because…well…”

“It’s not just prom you’re after, you want to ask her out. I know.”

The two of them had only been flirting for the last year. It’ll be a relief to all of them when Jason and Piper finally get together. Though, their PDA might quickly become worse than the yearning.

Jason widens his eyes but out of all their friends Annabeth is the most likely to have clocked his feelings for Piper. It really shouldn’t have been that surprising.

“When did you figure it out?” he asks.

“Don’t worry, you’re only being obvious to me.”

He seems relieved. Annabeth gains nothing from letting him know Piper feels the same way. At this moment, it’s irrelevant for Jason to know of Piper’s feelings nor does she want to betray her friend's trust.

“Well, I’ve got stuff riding on this so we need a plan.”

So, they make plans to hangout.

As predicted the rest of the group is intently watching as Percy battles with the claw machine. Today’s prize he’s after seems to be a little gray owl stuffed animal. He loses.

“Out of quarters ��’til next time,” he declares.

“Leo, I assume you want a ride home?” Piper asks.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Annabeth, you with me?” Percy questions, already dangling his keys.

They live close enough that he’s usually her ride.

“Not today, Jackson. I got plans with Jason.”

Percy’s smile drops. “Since when?”

“Don’t fret, I’ll still come over for dinner as promised. Tell Sally not to worry.”

It’s tradition after his swim meets to have dinner together. Annabeth loves his family. And Sally’s cooking.

“Okay.”

Thalia gives them a weird once over but says nothing. Thankfully, Grover breaks the tension that suddenly bubbles up by calling out after him, “wait up, Perc!” And ends up in the passenger seat.

“I’ll see you all Monday,” Piper says before getting into her car.

Jason, Annabeth, and Thalia all cross the lot and piled into Jason’s car.

On Monday, their plan is set into action.

It’s simple. Go up to her at her locker at the end of the day and ask. Straightforward, to the point.

An unmistakable ask to the prom. Thus creating a winner for their bet. No room for argument, which is good because Piper is a brilliant debater.

Of course, when the time comes with Annabeth watching from a safe distance, Jason never shows.

She’s texting him, trying to decide if she could stall Piper.

Jason picked up after the third ring.

“I can’t do it,” he tells her, “I need a new plan.”

Annabeth sighs.

“Okay, meet me at the courts, we'll regroup.”

Jason agrees. As Annabeth turns away from Piper’s locker she bumps directly into Percy.

“Hey!”

“Oh hi, Percy.”

“Where are you off too? I was going to ask if you had time to help me with my geometry?”

She checks the time. “I can meet you at the cafe in an hour?”

Annabeth is too busy staring at Jason’s text that he’s waiting for her in the gym that she doesn’t notice Percy’s weird gaze. “Um okay. See you in an hour.”

Their next plan requires little to no talking since that seemed to be Jason’s issue today.

And everything goes wrong, again. Jason’s handmade poster—a teenage movie cliche but something Annabeth knew Piper would find charming coming from Jason—is soaked by rain. As is Jason.

There hadn’t been rain in the forecast but the skies had opened up unexpectedly as soon as they got to school that morning.

They go even simpler on Wednesday. A cup of coffee with the word “prom?” written on it.

“You brought me coffee?” Piper questions when Jason tries to hand it over. “That’s sweet but I really prefer iced.”

She shakes her iced coffee that she must’ve gotten herself this morning.

Piper is rifling through her locket when she asks, “Annabeth do you want it?”

Annabeth shares a look of disappointment with Jason, who shrugs as if to say “oh well.”

She takes the coffee from him. They walk to homeroom together.

“It’s 3 strikes and you’re out right?” Jason says, “guess I’m out.”

“No way, we will figure this out. It’s just a little string of bad luck. Piper wants to go to prom with you. Of this I’m sure.”

Jason gives her a half smile, “you never give up.”

“And I’m not letting you give up either.”

Wednesday during lunch, Annabeth, Hazel, and Piper make plans to go dress shopping after school.

Piper drives them to the mall. They start with food before going in and out of every single store with any semblance of fancy attire. Piper and Annabeth go into dressing rooms with their arms full of dresses in various sizes and colors and lengths but walk out of the stores with nothing to show for it.

In their seventh store of the afternoon, Annabeth is trying on a seafoam green dress. It’s the exact shade of Percy’s eyes, she thinks, smoothing out the gown.

“How are we doing ladies?” Hazel asks from just outside the dressing room doors.

Annabeth steps out to show off her dress at the same time Piper’s door opens. Piper is in red. It’s beautiful against her skin tone.

“This does nothing for my boobs,” she sighs.

The dress does have a weird top.

“Oh Annabeth, you look amazing,” Piper says.

“You don’t think it washes me out?”

“Not at all,” Hazel replies.

Neither girl ends up leaving the mall with their dream prom dress. They’re upset by having little prospects but it also gives them the excuse to plan another girls’ day shopping.

As much as Annabeth loves planning, she’s feeling pretty hopeless by Friday. A whole week of prom plans gone awry. Annabeth’s not sure how many more cute ways to ask someone to prom she can think of.

She doesn’t see any of her friends in the hallway on the way to her locker. Not even Jason, which is odd since he’s normally standing at his own locker. Maybe he came up with his own plan to ask Piper to prom; Piper’s locker is on the other side of the building. Annabeth can only hope that’s where he is. She still really wants to win this bet.

Plus, she doesn’t think Piper’s made much progress on the Percy front. In fact, Percy hadn’t made any attempt to ask Annabeth to prom. Though she hadn’t seen much of him this week either. Beyond a little homework help, lunch, and their shared classes.

This weekend, she vows she’ll make time for her best friend. Prom schemes have taken up too much of her time. Sure, she wants to stick it to Piper but she also doesn’t want to neglect Percy.

Annabeth opens her locker and her heartbeat skips. Sitting on top of her calculus textbook is a small stuffed animal gray owl. In its lap, a tiny little sign asking: prom?

“I figured if I was going to ask my best friend out, it had better be extra cheesy.”

She moves her locker door and finds Percy smiling at her sheepishly.

“It’s pretty cheesy, so I’d call it a success.”

“It’s only a success if you say yes.”

“Why don’t you ask me then?”

Percy gives her a look like she can’t believe she’s making him do this.

“Annabeth Chase, will you go to prom with me?”

Forgetting all about how competitive she is and how badly she wants to win her bet with Piper, Annabeth says yes.

And the way Percy hugs her makes it totally worth it.

All she can think about is going to prom with Percy. Slow dancing at prom with Percy. Drinking spiked punch at prom with Percy. She thinks about how well worth it will all be once they’re at prom together.

Percy waves at her from just outside the fenced in area around the mechanical bull. Standing next to him is Piper smirking, clearly very pleased with herself.

Their whole group of friends is here tonight at Mino-Bar. Leo and Jason had already taken their turns on the bull and been thrown off within the first few seconds. All Annabeth had to do was get on it.

No one had placed bets on her. Well, Piper had but that was about prom dates not how long she’d last on the mechanical bull.

Annabeth is competitive but she’s not a sore loser even when she has every right to be. In this case, Annabeth has every right to be.

Piper and Jason had conspired against her. All those failed attempts at asking Piper to prom were false flags. Jason had actually been nervous to ask her…months ago…before they had apparently kissed at a party.

They both claimed to not be secretly dating. In fact, they had avoided talking about it for so long because they each assumed their feelings weren’t returned. Then, Piper had overheard Jason talking about kissing her and the rest is history.

“We’ve only been talking the last week or so,” Piper told her.

“So you cheated.”

“No, it had nothing to do with Jason and me.”

“Didn’t it? That was half of the bet, Pipes.”

“Okay fine, it did but it was about prom and Percy asked you first, you knew we were going to influence each boy into asking and you never said I couldn’t influence both of them.”

“You were deliberately stopping Jason from asking you!” She exclaimed, “that’s cheating.”

“Is it?” Piper asked, innocently.

Annabeth had been frustrated with her friend but at the end of the day, she couldn’t really argue. Piper was right. It hadn’t been against the rules to deter Jason from asking Piper to prom nor had it been to deter Percy. Annabeth had just been convinced Percy wouldn’t ask…she…her pride was responsible for her current situation.

And to reclaim that hurt pride, Annabeth had one mission: stay in the bull longer than any of the boys. Then the only thing anyone will be talking about is how Annabeth somehow outwitted and outlasted them all.

She grips the handles and braces herself. Just a few seconds. Annabeth counts them in her head drowning out the shouting and the music.

One. Two. Three.

She breathes and spins and is being tossed around.

Four. Five. Six.

She’s already done it. She’s outlasted Leo and Jason. Maybe just one more…

Seven.

And all she remembers is landing on the mat. The bull must stop moving but all Annabeth sees is green. Percy’s green eyes staring down at her with a wide grin.

His eyes are still worried but he’s clearly trying to mask it.

“Did you hit your head?” He asks, attempting to help her sit up.

She doesn’t remember answering. All Annabeth can think about is kissing him. So she does. She pulls Percy on top of her, he stumbles and bumps her nose. Annabeth holds his face and presses their lips together.