#this is kinda old and the hands look like shit

[awrkive]

OOOOH this event sounds so fun, could I have angst #21 (the bl*od one) with JK please? Low-key I’m thinking of like a royal vibe where like they’re both royals but enemies but it’s up to you Dee whatever you write I will gladly eat up 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

callofthegreen asked: Angst+21+ Jungkook (I'm a sucker for angst, and you always make it hurt so good, love you 💗)

21. "Is that... blood? Please tell me it isn't blood."

note: you said royals and i immediately thought... fantasy 🤓🤓 man idk the setting is very much inspired by mlbb universe 😭 this is kinda erm but hope you both enjoy i tried my best! 😭

wc: 1.8k (boo i know sorry)

You try to conceal the uncomfortable gnawing at your thigh – but the trek to the steep of the mountain was getting too much to bear, and every passing second is starting to feel like suicide. 

Subtly looking to the side, you observe Jungkook stands just fine. He has cuts all over his face from the attack of the common creeps back at the jungle, but he generally looks okay overall. Meanwhile, you still haven’t told him a horned lizard got you good and sliced quite deeply at your thigh when you made the mistake of kicking at the wrong time. 

It hurts like hell. Jungkook has been offering to stop by at few spots whenever he hears you inhale a sharp breath, probably assuming your discomfort about the length of the walk, but you couldn’t have it in you for him to think that you aren’t built for this. 

He’s spent the entirety of your childhood mocking you for your poor archery skills, laughing with his older cousins about how you couldn’t even pick up a sword the right way. He bitched and moaned about his status to be prince – completely wanting to be a warrior instead, and as a result insulted you for acquiescing to your royal responsibility of being princess. 

You hate him for many things. Hate him for how he affected you all those years, hate him for making you cry on the night of your 13th birthday, hate him for the fact that your father liked him more than you, and hate how he goes through life like it’s his stage and he’s the main character who never dies. 

Right now, Jungkook isn’t like the scrawny kid who used to pick on you for a hobby, second to perfecting his sports – he’s now a twenty-seven-year-old responsible king who had strategically led the movement of winning the impending war. 

But that doesn’t magically erase all the animosity you have towards him. 

You hate that you’re betrothed to him, hate that you knew that even before your father and your mother broke the news to you at the ripe age of 18. Hate that both your kingdoms are to form an alliance to battle the current rise of rebellion from the west. But after you lost your parents from the war that transpired two years ago, it had to be done. 

Jungkook may not be the same old guy who made half your life miserable – but you know that underneath his composure and the respectable manner in which he presents himself with now is nothing but a mere facade. 

Frankly, you do not trust him. You do not trust his plans. You do not support the war and everything that he and his council stands for. 

You don't want to be by his side when you're proven right.

And the last thing you'd want to be in front of Jungkook is weak. 

But a goddamn rock had made you trip on your own way, and you couldn’t help the shriek that escapes your mouth when you drop on the ground. 

“Fuck–” you pull your wounded thigh up, automatically wrapping your hand around the area and squeezing to manage the throbbing pain. “Shit.” You hiss when you see red your trousers, panicking internally. 

“What the hell– is that blood?” Jungkook drops his bladric on the ground and immediately goes to you, eyes widening at the sight of your thigh. “Please tell me it isn’t blood.” 

“Don’t touch me!” You say when Jungkook hovers over your thigh. He recoils, and you know he didn't expect that much hostility – given that you’ve been quiet for the entirety of the trek, and even though you haven’t exactly been welcoming to him for the past month of the expedition you both coincidentally sneaked yourselves into, you’ve been civil. 

Jungkook pulls back, one knee bent on the layer of dirt on the ground, hands surrendering up as if to reassure you he wasn’t going to do something you wouldn’t like. 

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m fine.” 

“You’re not.” Jungkook retorts, eyes trailing to the growing spot of blood on the fabric of your trousers. It’s getting more painful by the second –  and you want nothing but to scream about how it fucking stings. “Jesus christ, __, just let me help. That’s a damn big wound you’ve got there.” 

“I’m fine–” you insist, but it’s broken by a sharp intake of breath as another twinge comes up. you wince. “I just need– I just need some fabric. Tie it around the wound.” You manage to say, distressed. Both physically and emotionally. 

“We need to– I need to clean you up,” Jungkook says and maybe it’s your eyes playing jedi games on you but for once, he actually looks genuine to you. As if he actually cares. 

You scoff. “I can do that myself.” 

You don’t expect the way Jungkook snaps. 

“For once, can you stop being stubborn? You can barely breathe properly, __. You can say and think what you want and hate me again after this but just let me take care of you this one time. I’m going to clean your wound and make sure you’re not gonna bleed yourself to death by the time we arrive at the port.” Jungkook looks into your eyes and they feel almost… earnest. Like he wants you to really listen to him. He closes and opens his mouth as if wanting to say something. You wait for it, then for a few seconds it doesn’t come, until... “I’m not out to get you, __.” 

I’m not out to get you. It’s a simple sentence with a simple message. One that you should understand right away. 

But you don't.

You avoid his eyes when you only say, “I don’t trust you.” 

What you don’t expect is his quick answer.

“I know.” 

He crosses the distance between you once again, and you watch as he hesitantly hovers his hand over your thigh again. He looks for your face, silent – but his eyes scream for permission. You don’t give it verbally; too tired to speak, too consumed by the pain in your leg to voice out any more complaints lodged in your throat. 

When Jungkook initially places his hand on your leg, you don’t flinch. And it’s a surprise. Surprise because you expected his touch to burn you like how Icarus did when he flew too close to the sun, but instead it felt like winter night. Cold, but strangely warm. 

When you don’t say anything, he halts.

“Can I?” He asks. Leveled. Waiting. Always waiting. Almost gentle…

You purse your lips when you nod your head. 

Jungkook brings forward his satchel where he takes out a small knife, and there’s nothing but the gentle breeze of the wind and songs of the birds surrounding you at this part of the mountain when Jungkook begins cutting throught the fabric of your pants, effectively revealing the – admittedly – ghastly cut on your bare thigh. 

“Jesus,” Jungkook looks at you, eyebrows creased. “When did you get this? It can’t be from the fall.” 

“I–” you clear your throat and look away, ashamed to be admitting this now. “The horned lizard got me back at jungle.”

Jungkook looks like he wanted to say something but for god knows what, he keeps it to himself.

You watch quietly as he takes out a flask, twisting open the cap and looks at you before pouring over the water on the wound. 

When you hiss in pain, Jungkook immediately stops. 

“Are–” 

“I’m fine– it’s okay,” you assure him, biting your lip, glancing down at your wound. It would be hard to walk further carrying this with you. 

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook says. You assume it’s for his previous action, but you don’t exactly know how that guaranteed an apology.

You ignore it and he continues tending to the wound, relieved that he’s got some clean scraps of fabric in his bag – a quick aid kit, perhaps – to tap your wound with, and when he asks you to leverage his shoulder for a little bit so he can lift your thigh up a little in order to wrap the fabric around your thigh, your breath hitch at the proximity. 

Even though you and Jungkook are bethroted, you never really shared any moments where you’re required to be as close like this. The banquets are public appearances that only needed you and him to sit beside each other and smile and laugh at the visitors so they think you’re a good pair, but once the doors are closed, one becomes a stranger to another. 

But this… this feels different. It’s… intimate, in a way. 

When you said that his touch didn’t burn, it felt a little more different when you feel his skin touch yours. There’s a little spark to it – fleeting, quick. And you swear he lingers for longer than necessary when he finishes tending to the wound. 

It makes you confused.

“I wish you told me sooner.” Is what Jungkook says when he lets go. 

You pull your hand away from his shoulder. “I didn’t want us to lag behind.” 

“I wouldn’t have mind.” Jungkook says. It’s spoken with so much sincerity that it suddenly triggers a lot of underlying pain – and not just because there’s a big wound on your thigh that’s feeling a little better now – but because Jungkook is acting so different with you. “I’ll try to hunt us something to eat. We’ll stay here for a while so you can rest. Your wound’s pretty fucking big and I’m sure it’s gonne be swollen in a few minutes. Let’s just dry it out for awhile so I can apply the gel all over it, and then we can–” 

“Jungkook,” you cut him off. “Can you stop?” 

He looks at you, rightfully confused. 

You feel mad. Mad at the horned lizard for cutting you. Mad at yourself for letting yourself get cut. Mad at Jungkoook. Mad that he’s being nice. Mad at the situation. Mad at the war. And mad that all of this doesn’t make sense to you. 

“Stop trying to act like you care," You purse your lips and stare into his eyes when you add, “I don’t trust you. Right now I’m putting my guards down and maybe you feel nice enough to not obliterate it but this doesn’t mean you suddenly get to act like you’ve always cared about me. You never did, and I doubt you ever will.” 

Jungkook looks at you. His dark brown orbs have always held something in them – the stars, looks like it, but the stars were beautiful and you didn’t like associating him with beautiful things. 

“You don’t know everything.” Jungkook says, looking away just as he says that. You thought there was more… or maybe you thought there was more so you could retaliate with something – just something – but no words come after it. 

You find yourselves staring blankly ahead at the landscape of nothing but the vast blue skies. 

[darksturnz]

ECHOES OF LIGHT

CONTENTS:・fluff-heavy plot ・ star!reader ・fruity behavior again・bambi!madison・mentions of church (kinda not really!) ・substance use + more WC: 3K

no like you have to listen to this one AFTER the italics😿

The trailer door slammed open, the echo of the impact rattling the thin walls of the small space. Danny stumbled inside, the weight of the late hour and too much cheap whiskey heavy on his every movement. His boots dragged across the floor, leaving scuff marks in their wake as he muttered curses under his breath. The stale smell of alcohol and cigarettes clung to him, mixing with the oppressive silence of the trailer—a silence that seemed to amplify the weight of his bubbling anger.

He scanned the dimly lit kitchen, his bloodshot eyes catching on the empty countertop and the unlit stove. No dinner, no Star. His jaw clenched, the frustration blooming into full-blown rage as he kicked the side of a chair, the clatter breaking the quiet. “Ungrateful little shit,” he hissed, slurring the words together. “Can’t even do the basics, can she? Out runnin’ around like she’s got no damn responsibilities.”

He staggered toward the hallway, the flickering bulb above casting uneven light on the worn floorboards. His movements were uneven, his balance precarious as his shoulder bumped against the wall. “Don’t give a damn about no one but herself,” he muttered, a sneer twisting his face. Each step closer to Star’s room fed the fire of his anger, his mind already crafting a list of her supposed failures.

When he reached her door, he shoved it open without knocking, the old hinges creaking in protest. The sight inside gave him pause—not for long, but long enough to let a flicker of something other than anger cross his features. The room was a stark contrast to the rest of the trailer, a small sanctuary filled with the scent of plums and mango. It was uniquely hers, a blend of moody, dark tones with tiny sentimental touches. Posters covered the walls, and string lights looped around the ceiling. The little glowing stars they had stuck up there years ago still clung stubbornly to the surface, a faint reminder of a time long past.

Danny’s gaze lingered on the stars for a moment, his mind flicking to Grace and the hours they had spent arguing over how to get them to stick just right. The memory was a brief, unwelcome intrusion, and he shook it off, his anger swallowing the nostalgia whole.

“Think you’re better than me, huh? Better than this place?” he spat under his breath, as if Star were standing there to hear him. The bitterness in his voice reverberated off the walls as he began rifling through her belongings. His hands were rough, careless, pulling at her clothes, shoving items aside without purpose. He wasn’t looking for anything—he just wanted to disrupt, to vent his frustration in the only way he knew how.

His attention shifted to the window, cracked open slightly to let in the crisp night air. He stumbled toward it, muttering under his breath. “Fucking idiot,” he grumbled, slamming it shut with a loud thud that shook the frame. “Heating bill’s gonna be through the roof. S’not like she gives a damn.”

In his drunken clumsiness, his knee collided with the edge of the dresser. A loud thud echoed in the room as a small pile of items tumbled to the floor—a jewelry dish, a couple of notebooks, and a folded piece of paper. The drawing Chris had left the night before fluttered down, light as a feather, sliding behind the dresser and disappearing into the shadows.

Danny barely noticed, too preoccupied with his own muttered complaints. Satisfied with the misplaced tirade, he turned and stumbled out, slamming the door behind him. The once-cozy sanctuary was left in disarray—Star’s belongings scattered, the scent of mango and plum now mixed with the stale air of his intrusion.

The trailer fell silent again, the chaos he’d left behind a stark contrast to the stillness. And the drawing, a quiet plea folded into a forgotten piece of paper, lay hidden in the dark, waiting to be found.

Madison sat cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom, a clutter of makeup brushes and compacts scattered around her. The warm golden glow from the lamp on her dresser cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the soft ivory of her sweater and the plaid skirt she’d carefully chosen earlier. Her Bible sat forgotten on the bed next to a notebook filled with scribbled notes for church meetings. Tonight wasn’t about scripture or planning; it was about showing up, looking presentable, and being the dutiful daughter of Pine View’s sheriff and mayor.

Star, on the other hand, was sprawled on Madison’s window seat, her back against the wall, one leg pulled up while the other dangled lazily. She held a well-worn copy of The Bell Jar by Sylvia Path in one hand, the pages dog-eared and smudged with fingerprints. In her other hand, a joint rested loosely between her fingers, the smoke curling upward and drifting out the cracked window. The faint hum of cicadas filtered in, blending with the low music playing from Madison’s Bluetooth speaker.

“I hate everything I brought,” Star muttered, not looking up from her book as she exhaled a lazy plume of smoke. The words were heavy with frustration, and Madison glanced at her through the mirror, biting back a smile.

“You’ve said that about six times now, check my closet” Madison replied, carefully brushing blush onto her cheeks. She tried to keep her tone light, but the corners of her lips twitched. Watching Star pout and grumble was always strangely endearing.

Star finally lowered the book, tossing it onto the seat beside her before swinging her legs over and standing. She stretched, her hoodie riding up slightly to reveal a sliver of skin, and Madison’s brush faltered for a moment. She swallowed hard and forced herself to refocus on her reflection, even as her gaze darted back to Star through the mirror.

“You don’t get it,” Star said, pulling her hoodie over her head in one fluid motion. She stood there in her sports bra and jeans, her hair a wild mess from the sweater. “Everything I own is either too dark, too tight, or too depressing for whatever this church thing is supposed to be.”

Madison tried to respond, but the words caught in her throat. Her hands stilled on her makeup brush as her eyes lingered on Star’s reflection. The soft curve of her shoulders, the faint shadows of her collarbones, the way her hair tumbled down in uneven waves—it was all so… distracting. Madison’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked down, pretending to fidget with her lipstick.

“Not sure why I care,” Star continued, oblivious to Madison’s sudden discomfort. She rifled through Madison’s closet, her movements sharp and frustrated. “S’not like anyone’s gonna say anything.”

“I’ll notice,” Madison said before she could stop herself. Her voice was quiet, almost too soft to be heard, and she felt a flicker of panic as soon as the words left her mouth. She quickly added, “And for the record, you look good in anything.”

Star glanced over her shoulder, a grin tugging at her lips. “That’s cute, Mads, but not very helpful.” She pulled out a black cardigan dress and held it up to her body. “What about this? Or is it too funeral-y?”

Madison turned her attention back to the mirror, pretending to focus on her eyeliner. But when she saw Star holding the dress in the reflection, her breath hitched. The soft black fabric hugged Star’s figure perfectly, and Madison’s stomach flipped in a way that felt both thrilling and terrifying.

“S’perfect,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She hoped Star wouldn’t notice the faint tremor in her words.

Star grinned, tossing the dress onto the bed before turning back to the closet to grab her boots. Madison let out a quiet sigh of relief, her hands trembling slightly as she capped her eyeliner. She told herself it was nothing—just a passing thought, a moment of admiration for her best friend. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple.

The church courtyard was strung with soft yellow lights, the glow illuminating the clusters of townsfolk mingling beneath them. Tables were set up with trays of cookies and cupcakes, and a small speaker played country music in the background. It was a modest event, but the kind of thing Pine View thrived on—simple, familiar, and filled with faces that all knew each other.

Madison’s parents were already in the thick of it, her father shaking hands with other men in uniform while her mother chatted with the local pastor. Madison and Star slipped in quietly, doing their best to avoid drawing too much attention.

“This is… a lot,” Star muttered, sticking close to Madison’s side. Her black cardigan dress and platform boots made her stand out among the sea of pastel dresses and khaki slacks, but Madison thought she looked perfect.

“It’s not so bad,” Madison said, though she could feel the tension in Star’s posture. “We’ll just grab some cupcakes, pretend to care about small talk, and then bail.”

Star’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

They wandered to the dessert table, where Star immediately grabbed one of the cupcakes and made a face. “This tastes like disappointment.”

Madison laughed, the sound light and genuine. “It’s made by the church ladies. What did you expect?”

After an hour of obligatory small talk and polite smiles, Star tugged on Madison’s sleeve. “Y’wanna ditch?”

Madison hesitated, glancing around the courtyard. But when she saw the hopeful glint in Star’s eyes, she relented. “Fine. But only for a little while.”

Star grinned and led the way to the small garden behind the church. The space was quiet and dimly lit, the string lights from the courtyard casting faint shadows across the benches and flowerbeds. Star flopped onto one of the benches, pulling a fresh joint from her bag and lighting it with practiced ease.

“You’re crazy,” Madison said, sitting beside her. “We’re at a church, Star.”

Star exhaled a soft plume of smoke, her grin playful. “S’not like I’m lighting it in the sanctuary.” She held the joint out to Madison, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “C’mon. Live a little bambi.”

Madison hesitated, her cheeks flushing at the stupid nickname. “You’re terrible.”

“And you love me,” Star teased, her voice warm and teasing.

Madison’s heart skipped a beat, but she forced a laugh and took the joint, coughing on her first drag as Star laughed beside her.

Star eventually lays back, resting her head in Madison’s lap as she stared up at the sky. “Did you know the light from those stars is already dead?” she murmured. “It’s just… echoes.”

Madison nods softly, “mhm, you’ve mentioned it only a few times” she says playfully as her fingers brushed through Star’s hair, her gaze lingering on the curve of her lips as Star continued to ramble about constellations. The warmth of the moment settled over them like a blanket, and Madison felt her chest tighten.

She leaned down slightly, her breath catching as her lips hovered before pressing a soft kiss to Star’s cheek.

Star blinked, her gaze shifting to Madison with a soft, confused smile. “What was that for?”

Madison shrugged, trying to hide her blush. “I dunno. You just looked like you needed one.”

Star’s smile lingered, but she didn’t press. Instead, she settled back into Madison’s lap, her voice soft as she pointed out another constellation.

Madison’s heart raced, but for now, she let herself enjoy the moment, the quiet realization settling over her like the stars above.

The quiet of the church garden wrapped around them, the distant hum of voices from the courtyard blending into the symphony of crickets and rustling leaves. Madison’s fingers twitched slightly as they brushed against Star’s hair, her heartbeat loud and uneven in her chest.

Star lay still in Madison’s lap, her body relaxed, but her gaze flickered with life as she stared at the stars above. Her lips parted slightly, and she let out a breathy laugh that seemed to echo in the stillness.

“What’s so funny?” Madison asked, her voice soft and curious, her hand pausing mid-stroke through Star’s hair.

“I dunno,” Star admitted, turning her head slightly to meet Madison’s eyes. The motion caused her cheek to rest against Madison’s leg, the warmth of her skin seeping through the fabric of Madison’s skirt. “I just… it feels nice, y’know? Being out here, quiet. With you.”

Madison nodded slowly, her eyes lingering on Star’s face as her own cheeks started to heat up. “Yeah,” she murmured. “It does.”

Star shifted slightly, her expression softening as she turned back to the sky. “Sometimes, I think about what it’d be like to just… float up there,” she said, her voice dreamy and distant. “Like, if you could just let go of everything and let the stars pull you in. It’d probably be cold as hell, but at least you wouldn’t have to think so much.”

Madison’s chest tightened, a faint ache blooming there. She didn’t say anything at first, just let her fingers trail absently along the ends of Star’s hair, her thoughts swirling. She hated how much Star carried, how heavy her life seemed to weigh on her, and yet… she admired her for still being here, for still smiling and laughing even when it hurt.

“You don’t have to do it alone, you know,” Madison said quietly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Star blinked, her brows furrowing slightly as she glanced back up at Madison. “Do what alone?”

“Everything,” Madison replied, her voice trembling just enough to betray her nerves. She cleared her throat, her fingers stilling in Star’s hair. “I just mean… I don’t know. You’re always dealing with so much—your dad, Chris, your mom—and you act like you’ve got it all under control, but you don’t have to. I’m here, Star. I’m always here.”

Star’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but no words came. Instead, she sat up slowly, her gaze searching Madison’s face. For a moment, they just looked at each other, the air between them heavy with unspoken things.

“Madison…” Star began, her voice hesitant, but then she stopped, biting her lip. She looked down, her fingers picking at the hem of her cardigan. “I don’t even know how to let people help. Every time I try, it feels like I just mess it up.”

“You don’t mess anything up,” Madison said firmly, her voice steadier now. “You’re just… you. And that’s enough. That’s always enough.”

Star looked up at her again, her eyes wide and glistening in the dim light. For a second, Madison thought she might cry, but then Star let out a shaky laugh, her shoulders relaxing.

“You’re so cheesy,” Star said, but her tone was soft, almost affectionate. “If this is your way of getting me to come to all of these stupid things, it’s working.”

Madison laughed, the sound light and genuine, and the tension between them seemed to ease. Star leaned back, her head finding its way to Madison’s lap once more, and Madison let out a small breath of relief. Her fingers resumed their gentle path through Star’s hair, and Star closed her eyes, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

The courtyard was emptier now, most of the families having left while a few stragglers lingered near the dessert table. Madison and Star walked side by side, their arms brushing occasionally as they made their way back toward the main event. Madison’s cheeks still burned faintly from the kiss on Star’s cheek, but Star didn’t seem to notice—or if she did, she wasn’t saying anything.

“You’re lucky this thing wasn’t a total drag,” Star said, her voice light. “I mean, sure, the cupcakes tasted like sadness, but I guess the company was alright.”

Madison rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. “Glad I could make your night bearable.”

“Barely,” Star teased, nudging Madison’s arm with her elbow. But her smile softened, and for a moment, she looked at Madison with an expression that made Madison’s heart stutter.

“Thanks,” Star said quietly. “For, y’know… everything.”

Madison’s throat tightened, and she nodded, unable to trust her voice. She wanted to say something—something meaningful, something that would let Star know just how much she meant to her—but the words stayed stuck, tangled in the mess of her feelings.

By the time they got back to Madison’s house, Star was yawning, her eyelids heavy as she kicked off her boots and flopped onto Madison’s bed without a second thought. Madison smiled softly, watching as Star burrowed into the blankets, her messy hair fanning out around her. Comet hopped up onto the bed and curled up near Star’s neck, purring contentedly.

Madison changed into her pajamas quietly, her thoughts a whirl of emotions she didn’t know how to process. When she finally slid into bed beside Star, careful not to disturb her, she lay there staring at the ceiling, her heart racing.

Star’s breathing was soft and even, her presence warm and steady beside Madison. It was both comforting and overwhelming, and Madison couldn’t help but glance over at her, her gaze lingering on the curve of Star’s lips.

The thought came unbidden, sharp and undeniable, and Madison’s chest ached with the weight of it. She didn’t know what to do with the feeling, didn’t know if she even could do anything with it. It was terrifying and wonderful all at once. But as she turned her gaze back to the ceiling and closed her eyes, she let herself hold onto it, just for tonight.

I love her.

AUTHORS NOTE: sorry for ignoring all your ask…as you can see there was a reason why😅😅😅 ANYWAYS WOO GAY MADISON WOO

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[11luckyst4r]

☆3 MONTHS☆

- you decided to swear off sex for 3 months to prove your friend wrong. How hard can it be, right? You wouldn't ever dream of sleeping with your new roommate, satoru gojo, yet she thinks you can't do it.

content: dirty talk, petnames (sweets, princess etc) ,degradation (slut etc),unprotected sex ,creampie, uhhh what else, reader is kind of a slut.(real shit) smut with sprinkles of a plot. Reader is stubborn (me) idk what else

first fic kinda nervous

You wondered how you ended up in this predicament. You didn't plan on swearing off sex for 3 months. But your best friend joked you'd end up fucking your roommate Satoru Gojo. He wasn't even your type. " Gojo is a cocky know-it all and I wouldn't sleep with him" Your friend cackled " Babes i love you but you tend to think with your dick when you're horny."

You were utterly shocked at that. While 7 did tend to sleep with guys and girls often, you wouldn't sleep with your roommate. Especially Gojo of all people, his friend Geto, though was another thing.

"University is the place for fun, besides I have to have fun now. When I go to med school it's books and studying and I won't have time for fun." You said matter of factly. That's when you made the personal promise to be celibate for 3 months to prove your best friend wrong. What you didn't count on , was how pent up you'd become.

3 weeks in you felt fine, but you noticed gojo staring at your chest all too often. That was after he walked in on you in the bathroom. Without a top on. Shaving your armpits in the sink. You thought that gave him the ick.

4 weeks in you were in denial that you were fine. And you noticed Gojo brushing your arm here and there. Sometimes he'd come up behind you to help you get your favourite mug from the top shelf. You swore that you left it on the bottom shelf.

6 weeks in , your toys became your best friends. " It's just as good as the real thing" You told your best friend while she shook her head. You aslo noticed Gojo walking around shirtless more often too. He was the definition of a sleeper build. And sometimes you'd have to stop yourself staring.

Week 8 you lost feeling in your 4th eye, you couldn't taste in your ear anymore and your eyed could feel colour's.

You lost count around week 9. Now you were beginning to lose it. You couldn't focus in class anymore, your mind would go to the most dirty scenarios regarding some of your fine professors. You also became noticeably irritable.

"fuck" You muttered to yourself, you gave yourself another miserable orgasm. Which was weird since normally you were quite good at it. You left your room to go make yourself some tea. "stupid celibacy pledge." You grumbled to yourself while making tea. Gojo sat on the couch watching some stupid movie with a stupid plot. "You okay, you seem irritated lately?" He asked.

" I'm fine" , you sighed " just stressed out with schoolwork"

"Oh?" You could feel him staring into your back so you turned to face him. His eyes immediately went down.

" You know Gojo this staring at my boobs thing is getting really old"

"I'm not staring" he said while not breaking boob eye contact.

You scoffed and turned your focus back on your tea. You heard his foot steps come up behind you. " You know if you're stressed with schoolwork I could uh... help you with that." You turned to face him. Except you had to look up at him.

" Stop being coy"

He leaned down to whisper in your ear and placed his hand on your waist. You swore your pussy started throbbing." You're looking at me like you're begging me to bend you over the kitchen counter and I'm the only one being coy?"

You so badly wanted him to continue speaking to you like that, but you were stubborn. So you turned your back to him, brushing your ass against his dick unnecessarily. That just egged him on, and he continued whispering downright dirty things in your ear. "See, now I have an idea of what you're like," he whispered while tracing circles on your waist. You tried to distract yourself by stiring your tea. "Oh? You think about me im so touched. " " Touched is what you'll be if you keep grinding your ass on my dick sweets"

You stopped, and his hands dropped lower to your hips. You hadn't even realised what you were doing. You felt yourself getting hotter and wetter. " Anyways, princess there are a long list of things I'd like to do to you". You were getting weak , you were only a girl and you had needs.

"Like what" You replied breathlessly

" You pressed up against the wall, leg on my shoulder and thighs squeezing my head."

He kept his one hand on your hip keeping you steady while the other trailed up to your boob. He began playing with your nipple and you thanked God you didn't wear a bra that day.

You couldn't keep your head on straight anymore and you moaned softly.

"You like that you slut" You could feel him smiling against your neck and you could only moan in response. Gojo began kissing your neck softly while you started grinding against his hardening dick.

"Gojo" You moaned softly

"No, use my name, else I won't touch you," He said playfully. However, you were too horny to be defiant, so you used his name.

"That's my girl"

His hand moved down to your shorts, went under and he started playing with your pussy over your underwear. The sensations were too much, but not enough at the same. You needed proper stimulation. You were getting so wet yet were so deprived.

"Satoru, please touch me properly"

"Where? Be specific, princess. "

You were desperate at this point, and the games weren't fun anymore. "Oh my God, you're not stupid. Put your long ass fingers to good use and finger me."

" Well, if you speak to me like that, you can finger yourself then." That's when you grabbed his hand and shoved it in your underwear. Satoru was shocked he didn't think you'd take control even if it was a tiny bit , but he liked it. His fingers were long, and he knew how to use them. He curled them in all the right spots. "Fuckk," you moaned. " You're a loud one, I wonder what sounds will come out of you when my dicks inside you" You could only grind against his fingers in response. His free hand roamed over your body. He played with your boob and squeezed your thighs all the while he nibbled your neck. You could feel how hard he was against your ass . You took his hand out of your shorts and turned around, pushing him towards the couch. Satoru only smirked in response. " Wowww you like taking control, huh? " He laid back against the couch. " Well, yeah, since you seem to be going to slow. Take off your pants." You first removed your shorts, shirt and then climbed into his lap after he took off his sweats. "Seriously blue, the same colour as your eyes?" You muttered while climbing into his lap. You didn't give him a chance to respond because he started kissing him and grinding on him. This time, you made him moan. You placed his hands on your hips and then held his face. "You know Satoru you're gonna need to be more dominant if i decide to fuck you again" You whispered into his ear. You heard him mutter shut up before grabbing your face to make out with you. You didn't expect him to be such a sloppy kisser. But he was. You tangled your hands in his hair while moaning into the kiss. You felt his hand squeeze your ass then move to your hips. You silently thanked God once again that you wore your cute lacy thong instead of grandma panties. Then you silently cursed when you felt him rip them off. " You ass those were my favourites." You wanted me to be more dominant." he smiled while moving you under him. He took off his own underwear and stroked himself. You looked at his dick. He was long like his fingers.

You wished that you were about to have your world rocked, and boy, that wish come true. Judging a book by its cover you assumed Satoru Gojo didn't know how to fuck. You thought he'd be a lot like those guys who said they knew how to please a woman but learned everything they knew from porn stars and their clueless guy friends. You were wrong. Satoru gojo knew how to fuck.

He had your legs over his hips and pinned your hands above your head. He left bruising kisses all over your chest and neck. He paid careful attention to your boobs, sucking each nipple with care. And his thrust? His stamina was insane for such a skinny guy. You were sure the neighbours would know his name from how loud you were moaning his name. "Ahhh, right there, yes there." You moaned. " Fuck you feel so fucking good." " Fuckk I swear this pussy was made for me you're such a good slut" He babbled on and on. You felt that familiar feeling building up inside. And he felt it too with how your walls began to clench him. " Cum for me , cum on my dick like a good slut" he moaned. He left more bruising kisses on your tits before shoving his tongue in your mouth once more. His hand trailed down to your clit where he rubbed circles on them. That sent you over the edge. You felt your walls clench down and moaned so loudly it was closer to a scream. Satoru began thrusting faster, chasing his own high. "Where must I cum?" He asked " Inside" and that made him finish. He kissed you once again. "Well, we'll have to do that again" he said while moving to sit up on the couch. " So much for 3 months of celibacy ." you said aloud. He looked at you utterly confused. You sat up quickly. " You know, gojo, I thought I gave you the ick when you walked in on me shaving my armpit hair." He cocked his head and looked at you, "why the fuck would i be paying attention to your hair armpits when your boobs were right there" You laughed and swatted at him. Maybe living with him wouldn't be so bad.

a/n That took so fucking long. Endings kinda rushed. I'm sorry. I'm so tired. Idk how to end these appropriately anyways FIRST FIC DONE WOOHOO 🎉🎊 uhm please don't steal or copy thanks MWAH MWAH HOPE YOU ENJOYED MY SNOOKUMS.

[theweirderstuffblogdontlook]

early draft Bob Velseb Fanfic

(im still working on a small comic to accompany this fic before i release it officially, but i would appreciate the feedback, so dont hesitate to comment as it encourages me to make more art for the au. This comic takes place after the events of this post.) For reference, the woman in this image next to bob is Mary-Anne

then in this image, from left to right (no including Bob in the middle) we have Roxy, Greta, Sparrow, Ash, Trixie, Jane (who's the bar's manager and doesn't appear in the fic), and Billie (who is the bar's bouncer)

Fic is below the readmore. And I kinda recommend looking back at the images every so often to keep track of who's who, cus there's a lot of lesbians hanging out chatting in this fic.

Hanging out in the mismatched collection of old sofas in the lounge area of the local lesbian bar, some of the bar’s regulars were having a casual chat. When another of the regulars, a woman named Mary-Anne, excitedly came up to the group with a laptop in hand. Mary: “Hey you girls wanna see my latest true crime theory?! I think I've got a really good one this time!” Sparrow: “YEEEEAAAAHhhhhhh! Lemme see it! Show us what detective work ya been up to!” Trixie: “Did you finally see if I’ve done any murders I didn't know about? You said you’d check.” Mary: “Yeah I know, and I'll get to it eventually, but I found something way more interesting…… Barbra.” Sparrow: “Barbra?” Mary: “Yeah!” She sets up the laptop on the table, the women all crowding around to get a look, as Mary-Anne puts on a dramatic, though still a bit joking, tone and pose.

Mary: “Barbra, could secretly be, the notorious serial killer…. Bob Velseb.”

Ash: “Who?” Sparrow: “No fucking way! The Halloween cannibal from that other town down south? How’ed you make that connection?”

Roxy: “Excuse me, Cannibal?!”

Ash: “That’s pretty metal actually. Wish looking into me found connections to crimes that sick.” Greta: “Ummm, isn’t that man dead?”

Sparrow: “Wait yeah good point. The news said he got caught and killed by police last Halloween night. Shouldn't that be like, disqualifying for what hypothetical crimes you think your friends might have committed?”

Mary: “Wellllll…. yeah, supposedly he even had an autopsy and everything. But It fits too well if you just ignore the whole being dead thing!”

Roxy: “Hey! Don't you buncha freaks go just comparing Barbra to people like that. She hasn't even been around that long. Don't need you scaring her off with your true crime detective mess when I know you didn't even ask if she was okay with it first!”

Mary: “But it's suuuuuuuch a good one though!”

Trixie: “Yeah lighten up, I doubt she's gonna mind. I mean it's not like Barbara is actually gonna be a DEAD criminal. And especially with those morbid jokes she likes, she'll probably think it's hilarious.”

Roxy: “Nuh-Uh! I don't care how funny it is. She's still doing this without asking! It's one thing for her to look into yalls lives like a creepy stalker when you ask her to. But don't you go encouraging her with that spying into people's business shit without permission!”

Mary: “Aww come on.”

Ash: “Okay, I'm actually gonna agree with Roxy here. I mean what if one day, I really have to murder someone? I don't need Sherlock Holmes getting on my trail ten minutes later. You could at least ask first.”

Sparrow: “Come on, that's different! I'm sure you'd have a good reason if you did ever murder someone. And she'd be more likely to help you bury the body than turn you in. We all would.”

Roxy: “Nuh-uh, I still don't like this biz. Plus, isn't Barbra a trans woman? You'd probably end up hurting her feelings more by comparing her to a dead MAN than to the whole criminal thing.”

Sparrow: “Wait, since when was Barbra trans?”

Ash: “She was kinda making it obvious with that wig she always wears.”

Sparrow: “Wait really? I thought she was wearing the wig because she had some grizzly scar or something on her head from the car crash and didn't want to call attention to it. I mean they did say she had a bad head injury. Like it's why they said she's always wearing the sunglasses even when inside. The concussion like, messed up her ability to look directly at bright lights or something.”

Ash: “...Yeah okay that's a fair point I didn't need to immediately jump to her wearing the wig being to make her pass better. But like, there's still a lot of stuff besides that. Plus Caprica admitted to it. Barbra definitely used to be a dude.”

Greta: “Doesn't really matter if she's trans regardless, since she only ever really flirts with Caprica.”

Trixie: “I'd fuck her even with a dick like are you fucking kidding me? She's hot as hell.”

Sparrow: “Oh my god same! I swear Barbra is wasted on that woman.”

Roxy: “Yeah, but like, I ain't gonna pretend I wouldn't get a massive crush too if some lady pulled my fat ass out of a burning car wreck and lemme stay at her place while I recover like Caprica did. That's like some fairytale relationship shit.”

Trixie: “Exactly! if I got my life saved all dramatically by someone who's not just gay, but gay AND single ANNND they let you stay at their house for free? I wouldn't even care if they were hot or not. You'd have to be a real big piece of shit to be getting rid of me anytime soon. I'd be grabbing on with both hands. Maybe not as hard as Barbra seems to be, but still.”

Greta: “Umm, I meant more that she's not pressuring anybody, so it wouldn't matter either way what she has.”

Mary: “We're getting off topic! I wanna talk about my cool theory!”

Ash: “Right, right, let's hear it.”

Roxy: “Let's NOT hear it! She didn't ask Barbra for permission!”

Sparrow: “Well since she's already put it together, the least we could do is go over it and let her know if it'd be a mistake to tell Barbra and hurt her feelings. Like if it is something really insulting, it would be better to act like it never happened right?”

Roxy folds her arms and grumbled, but otherwise stops complaining. Letting Mary-Anne get on with it.

Tapping on her laptop for a second before turning it around to show a PowerPoint style compilation of research and pictures, starting with Bob's prison mugshot, which the ladies leaned in to see.

Mary: “So here's what I found. So we've got this Bob Velseb guy right? Notorious cannibal serial killer, captured on Halloween night a few years ago and put in prison.”

Billie: “....Did you really make a whole presentation for this?”

Mary: “I told you, it's a really good one! And I had to keep my evidence somewhere anyway. So it's like a digital scrapbook, and I just cleaned it up some to show you.”

Trixie, with a bit of a teasing tone: “Becha wish you could make a whole corkboard setup with red yarn instead.”

Mary: “I sooooooo would, but it’s just too hard to fit that sort of thing in my car and drive it around. You all gotta come meet at my house so I can have the excuse to set up a real one!” Billie: “....Amateur detective potluck.” Mary: “Omg yes. With like a bunch of detective based desserts! Sparrow: Chalk outline chocolate cookies!

Ash: “Halloween coleslaw.” Roxy, through half muffled snickering: “Girl, the fuck is halloween coleslaw??” Mary: “We’re getting off track! Back to what I was saying…”

She switches to the next slides showing clips from newspapers and the like.

Mary: “So he stays in prison for awhile. But then last year, he escapes from prison with a few other small time criminals.

And he spends a few months killing people, like 8 or 9 bodies being found, all with the same M - O. Until Halloween night comes around again. He goes after the same family he got caught while trying to kill that other Halloween. And it leads to an encounter with the police who kill him in a shootout. Where he's brought to the morgue for an autopsy and has the cause of death confirmed…..

BUT!!!”

She changes to the next slide, which was talking about a car crash, a man found dead, and had a map with some areas marked in mspaint.

Mary: “The next day after the news report of Mr. Velseb’s death goes out, we have this weird little event happen. So there’s this man, who was supposedly on his way to a hunting trip? He's found stabbed to death on the side of the road here.”

She zooms in on the map, showing the road between this town and the weird little town where Bob comes from, and points to the marked location just past the outskirts of Bob's town.

Mary: “Now wild animals had gotten to the corpse before it was found, so it was pretty mangled, but he had definitely been stabbed. Which is a bit of evidence that could link to the knife wielding serial killer. Bob Velseb, also known as the devil butcher, so named because he used to be a butcher and ended up feeding his victims to his patrons.”

Roxy: “Oh, no, ew why'd you have to go and tell me that?”

Mary: “Well I had to give you the context that this is a guy who stabs people, so we should be looking for stuff like this where the victim was stabbed.”

Roxy: “You could've just said he stabs people!”

Mary: “Well, he also tends to butcher and eat people so we gotta keep an eye out for…”

Billie, in her slightly monotone, but firm voice: “Maybe cool it with the gruesome details.” 

Mary: “Alright alright. It's not super relevant right now anyway, since it looks to me like the guy was in too much of a rush anyway to actually butcher anyone. Because the interesting thing for us…. is this man's truck.”

She points to a location further down the road, on the outskirts of their own town/small city and close to one of the parks.

Mary: “His truck… was found here. Crashed into a ditch, blood all over the inside of it, but no body. So if it had been a regular crash, then the hunter's body should have been right here with his car, not all the way back here covered in stab wounds. So according to the evidence, he was stabbed to death here, had his car stolen by someone who looked to be pretty injured themselves, which was then driven all the way here… to our town.”

Roxy: “Guuuurl…. Shut the hell up! That is sinister as fuck! You're telling me we've got somethin coming up from that creepy ass missing kids town, to over where we live? Man I don't even care if it happened the day after some big time serial killer died. That should still be a big ass problem!”

Mary: “Don't worry, it gets even better!”

Billie: “I think you mean worse.” 

Mary: “Yeah! It gets even worse! So in the days after this body was found up until now, the number of murders went way up for about a month or so. With the bodies matching Bob Velsebs usual modus operandi. Showing up stabbed and mangled with pieces missing. With even a few cops getting killed in that time! 

And then after that, even though there weren't any more bodies being found, the number of missing persons still stayed higher. Almost like a murderer who used to work out in the open….  was now covering his tracks.”

Trixie: “That's spooky as hell! Why's this the first time I'm hearing about somebody out there killing people??”

Billie gave a bit of a knowing look as she explained: “Because what we're listening to is a conspiracy. She's not seeing the evidence and working from it, she's made a theory first and is putting together all the information that supports the theory. That's how these true crime conspiracies work. It's good for a spooky campfire story, but there's a reason why the actual detectives aren't saying the same thing and telling the local news to spread the word.”

Roxy: “Man, you're just gonna be working me up over nothing then.”

Mary: “Not REALLY nothing, this stuff has actually happened.”

She then pitches her voice low and spooky for emphasis.

Mary: “And who knows, maybe there really was a cover up with the serial killer not actually being killed.”

Sparrow: “Yeah! Don't be a spoilsport! So like, so…. Like… uhhh… so how does this stuff have anything to do with Barbra though? Like you're saying the death of this Bob guy was a cover up, but how does this connect to Barbra?”

Mary: “Well first up, their descriptions are very similar. Barbra has the right height and build for…”

Billie: “How tall did they say this Velseb guy was?”

Mary: “Uhhh….”

She flipped through the presentation back to the mugshot 

“6 foot 4.”

Billie: “Yeah, that's about right for Barbra.”

Showing her experience as a bouncer with being able to judge people's height from comparing them to their ID's.

Mary: “Right! Hair color, skin, build, even the accents match too.”

Sparrow: “Cool! That's already way better than when you tried to link me to any murders!”

Mary: “I know right!”

Greta: “Still, that's just looking like a dead serial killer. If you're only going based off of just happening to know someone who matches the description, that could still lead to hurt feelings.”

Mary: “But that's the thing, it's not only looking the same. Like for instance, think about how Barbara and Caprica said they met.”

Billie: “.... A car accident.”

Mary: “Right! And what started off this whole uptick in violent crime? This guy getting killed, getting his truck stolen, then whoever stole it crashing the truck into a ditch on the outskirts of the town.”

Trixie: “That's not the same type of accident they described in how they met though.”

Mary: “Yeah, but any good cover story has an element of truth in it.”

Ash: “So you're basically saying, that Caprica pulled somebody out of a wreck, who turned out to be a cannibal serial killer that the cops covered up the death of. And who instead of cannibal serial killing her, fell head over heels in love, and now…. what, they're like a serial killer power couple or something? So is Caprica secretly a serial killer now too?”

Mary: “Weeeeeeeelllllllll…. Kinda? Yeah? I mean, turns out, Capricas actually kinda legit been through some horrible stuff in real life. Buuuuut I'm not so sure about talking about that stuff since it, you know, actually 100% happened to her.”

Trixie: “Shit, so you're saying she actually has some kind of excuse for how trying to make smalltalk with her, makes her look like she's offended you even thought to try and speak to her?

It's not like… you know. Because of some guy…. Right?”

Mary: “No, no, nothing like that.”

Greta: “Well… you might as well tell us since we've come this far.”

Mary: “....Okay. Just a sec.”

She goes to the laptop, clicks open a web browser, and takes a moment to look up the right event.

Mary: “Okay, so over a decade ago, there was this thing that happened at a campsite near here, where this big elk supposedly ate something bad, like old rat poison from the 70s or something, which made it freak out and go on a violent rampage where it gored a bunch of campers to death.”

She steps back to show an old newspaper clipping with a picture of Caprica and a bunch of young scouts.

Mary: “Caprica was one of the few survivors, who also saved a bunch of cub scouts by having them climb a tree where the elk couldn't reach them.”

Sparrow: “Hold on, I actually recognize this one! That's the state record for the single most people killed in a single day due to an animal attack! So Caprica was one of the people involved in it the whole time? That's wild!”

Ash: “From hero to serial killer….. That's pretty brutal of her…. Nice.”

Sparrow: “Of course the lady who still dresses goth every day even though she's pushing 40 would have that be the takeaway here.”

Ash: “I know what I'm about.”

Trixie: “That still seems like a bit of a reach though.”

Billie: “I’ll reiterate. This is a conspiracy theory being made up for fun. It's going to be full of reaches.”

Trixie: “No I mean, Barbra is absolutely crazy for that girl. Like remember that one time? (comic about bob drowning his sorrows in liquor because caprica had to go to a doctors appointment and he couldn't come along.) Trixie: “It just seems disproportionate to fall that hard after a life of murder and cannibalism, to Caprica of all people.”

Sparrow: “You literally just said a few minutes ago if you were in Barbara's position getting your life saved, they wouldn't be able to get rid of you if they tried.”

Trixie: “What, am I suddenly not allowed to embellish a little? But I mean, come on, haven't you seen the two of them enough? Heck, starting out I was more worried that Caprica was like… like she didn't even want to be in a relationship?”

Ash: “I always got the opposite impression personally, like she was taking advantage of Barbra. She's always acting so mean to her. Like with us she's at least trying to be polite, but not so much with Barb. I've been trying to keep an eye for any other red flags like that, but Barbra’s never seemed to mind soooo….”

Greta: “Hey now, let's not start implying Caprica is abusive. It's clear she's done a lot for Barbra, however begrudgingly. Even coming to the bar all these times. It's clear Caprica isn't doing it because she enjoys clubbing. Barbara's always been the one having the most fun.”

Roxy: “Yeah, let's not have this get out of hand with all these accusations.”

Mary: “And more importantly, I want better feedback on my theory! I mean of all the reasons why it could be wrong, I'd hope for better than something like “Barbra is acting way too crazy to have POSSIBLY been a deranged cannibal serial killer.”

Sparrow: “That Barbra is a certified freak 7 days a week and I love that for her.”

Roxy: “Forget about Barbra, I still don't like the thought that some cannibal serial killer has come over from that town with all the spooky shit going on and is around here terrorizing people!”

Billie: “Once again, she's not following the evidence, she's inventing a ghost story and then finding scary evidence to support the narrative while leaving out any conflicting evidence or context. If it were genuinely something to worry about, this wouldn't be your first time hearing about it.”

Trixie: “Plus it can’t actually be the cannibal serial killer guy, he's super dead.”

Mary-Anne, with a bit of a mischievous tone as she leaned in back to her presentation: “.....You know, I actually found some cell phone video of the guy getting run over I can show everyone.”

To which Billie the bouncer stood up sharply and said: “Nope. Putting my foot down. New rule. No snuff films in the bar.”

Before closing the lid of the laptop.

Mary: “Awwww what? No!”

Trixie: “Killjoy.”

Ash, clearly sarcastic and kidding around: “Yeah, no watching the brutal deaths of serial killers in a bar? What are you, homophobic or something?”

Mary: “It's actually a pretty funny video without much gore or anything. The guy gets run over by a car like 4 times in a row. Like a loony toons character.”

Billie: “I don't care how funny it is, that's the sort of stuff that can get the business in trouble.”

Roxy: “But can't we make an exception this time? I'd feel a lot better for sure knowing that guy is dead.”

Billie replies as she straightens out her pants and shirt: “It's almost time for me to start my shift, so might be best to just call it quits here.”

Mary-Anne went back to the laptop to scroll through the list of images she'd gathered for people either missing or dead.

Mary: “Awww, but I didn't even get a chance to go through the list of victims yet.”

Greta: “No, she's right. I think we've seen enough. I doubt this is anything we should be letting Barbra see. Let's just stop here before…”

Sparrow: “Wait. Scroll back up.”

Mary-Anne did as asked, scrolling a bit up again and upon seeing it Sparrows eyes got wide, and she covered her mouth in shock. Prompting a few of the others to look as well. Getting a similar look of surprise.

Ash: “Oh, wow.”

Mary: “What? What is it?”

Ash: “You weren't there that day. So you wouldn't know. But that one?”

She points at a certain picture of a man on the screen.

Ash: “That's one of the guys who grabbed Caprica that day.”

The silence hangs in the air for a moment.

Mary: “This guy?”

Ash: “Yep.”

Trixie: “Okay that's spooky. But one guy going missing is a coincidence at best. Especially the kind of guy who'd behave like he and that other jerk did. I bet he's asking for a fight everywhere he goes. So let's not jump to conclusions. Maybe if they both went missing that might be a…”

Mary: “Well let's see! What did the other one look like?”

She said with a bit of excitement, scrolling through the rest of her list of missing persons.

Billie:“.... He looked like that.”

Mary: “Huh?”

Billie stepped over, and used the laptop trackpad to scroll a bit upwards, then pointed at a specific picture in the list of missing persons. The picture of the second guy who had tried to hit on Caprica that night.

Mary: “Thats him.”

The air hung still for a moment, the weight of the realization sinking in. Trixie Being the first to break the silence with,

Trixie: “..... Well shit, Barbra and Caprica might actually be some kind of serial killers.”

Another moment of silence, until

Ash: “.....Good for them.” The humor of the response breaking the tension with an indignant, though slightly giggly response of Sparrow: “Ash! Oh my god!”

Ash: “What? Am I supposed to be upset that a pair of creeps who snuck into a gay bar and try to sexually harass the shortest lesbian they could find in the club, and right in front of her girlfriend no less, have gone missing? Good riddance if you ask me.”

Sparrow looked between the women nervously before her gaze settled on Billie: “For real though, should we… call someone about this?” Mary: “What happened to helping bury the bodies?”

Trixie: “Would probably be burying Barbra if you sent the police after her.”

Sparrow: “What?” Trixie: “Seriously, what the fuck do you think would happen if we called up the police and told them that a lesbian trans woman MIGHT be involved in the disappearance of two men? And not only that, but that we’re suspicious of her being involved in their disappearance because she got into a fight with these two dudes when they tried to “correct a woman from the deviancy of homosexuality”. You might as well be broadcasting “Hey dudes! Free target practice over here! Feel free to shoot this woman as many times as you want, because no jury is going to condemn you for murdering a butch trans woman!” to almost every trigger happy misogynist dirtbag in town.” Greta: “I knew this was going to be a mistake….”

Billie let off a sigh: “Trixie is right. We could easily be putting Barbra’s life at risk based on a coincidence she had nothing to do with. Whereas it would be a roll of the dice if it even mattered to law enforcement if she were actually guilty or not.”

Sparrow: “....I guess you’re right.”

Roxy: “Man I told y'all this was gonna be a bad idea. Now yall are speculating about turning Barbra over to the police. But you know what? I’m with Ash on this one! Even though Mary-Anne’s been trying to freak us all out trying to link all these murders to Barbra, the only real evidence we have is that two wannabe date rapists who happened to get into a fight with Barbra have now gone missin. And even if Barb and Caprica did off those two, then good on em for actually being proactive in getting rid of creeps like that. Long as they’re sticking to cleaning up trash like that, and aren’t going after any of the people I care about or who have the good sense to just be minding their own business, then I couldn't give less of a shit.” Trixie: “I hope Barbra and Caprica did kill those pigs though. Fuck the cops, I wish more of them had been killed.”

Greta: “.....I think it might be best for everyone if we just change the subject and forget the whole thing.”

Mary: “........Do you think maybe Barbra and Caprica might have room for one more in their relationship though?” Sparrow, through laughter: “OH MY GOD!” Ash, also trying to stifle a chuckle: “Dude, don’t go trying to be some couple’s third wheel just because you think they might be serial killers.”

Trixie: “Yeah, what if they say yes and then you find out they’re actually super boring and you just end up being disappointed?” Mary: “A girl can dream can’t she?” Roxy, clearly not taking it seriously: “I’d be more worried about you thinking the worst case scenario here would be them NOT being serial killers.” They continue chatting for awhile about various things before eventually going their separate ways, having all agreed not to tell Barbra or Caprica about this conversation. 

[shadeslug]

Nooo babe, don't replace yourself haha

[somegrumpynerd]

Assorted Horror and Killer doodles since there aren't enough of them c:

Killer by Rahafwabas Horror by Sour-apple-studios

[low-poly-poni]

She girlbossed so hard I forgot how to draw skirts

eheuheuheu

[rev-velvet]

Hey everyone how's it-OH GOOD HEAVES!!!

THE THEME IS PAST VS. PRESENT VS. FUTURE!!?!!

[wildflowercryptid]

i've always got to pick faves that have the dumbest fucking takes made about them i stg

[sleep-nurse]

Can we please get lore? /nf or anything ofc I just love the way you write lore

OUGHHHHHHHH ok well in short. regarding himawari and willow in simple terms willow is literally just a redesign of himawari which was my old sona but i decided to do some interesting lore shit with it

and that shit being the fact that willow was created by himawari in the nothingness (a place in the realm i don't think i really mentioned yet........god it's so hard to explain lore here cus i practically said nothing about the world) because himawari was ''the creator'', and then she gave him her core/soul so that he could be the '''''new himawari'''''', alongside this she gave him another core from someone who we will later find out (probably). after this she decided to stab herself in the chest in front of him so that the timeline would reset but without her and with willow instead, so that he would become the new creator (basically sona). the thing is this shit was fucking traumatising because willow can't help but think this was all his fault even though this was what himawari wanted

[satellite-blossom]

I've yet to find another site that can give you the same feeling as a Wattpad fic with a beautifully/expertly edited cover and the worst first chapter you've ever seen so far.

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

Look I don't know what the fuck antarctica is.

It's like stuff your ass ain't surviving past though

[igixri]

we are one episode and 10 minutes into season 5 and the shit that Walt has managed to do so far in that span of time is like some of the evilest shit he’s done so far because now he’s like, psycho confident about all his machinations. when he’s in the car with jesse and mike and ends an argument with “because i said so” AND NEITHER OF THEM CALL HIM ON IT…ITS JUST SO BRUTAL ITS SAD like damn neither of you immediately started hitting him with hammers after all that? he heisenbergpilled you?? when he hugs skyler and tells her I FORGIVE YOU…I could’ve torn his head off his shoulders for that. And don’t even let me speak about the heinous shit with the cigarette I know he was sitting there thinking he’s so clever for coming up with putting it in the vacuum cleaner. I hope he blows up

[panb1mbo]

i want to buy an abandoned church and turn it into my house so baaaaaaad

[angelnumber27]

I am having very specific localized pain directly where my heart is

have mercy plz just let my body feel normal and not in pain for once. Just today

[sufficientlylargen]

It always gets me that the name "Gandalf" literally just means "Wand-Elf" or "Stick-Elf". I'm imagining old Gondorians just being like:

Librarian: I saw that weird guy at the library again today.

Guard 1: What weird guy?

Librarian: The old guy with the beard? Kinda elfy-looking, apart from the beard?

Guard 1: Oh, with the big-ass stick?

Librarian: Yeah, looked like he was carrying an entire tree branch.

Guard 2: Yeah, that's the Stick Elf.

Guard 1: Hell yeah, I fuckin' love the Stick Elf.

Librarian: The "Stick Elf"?

Guard 2: He comes by every few years, usually after some weird book or other.

Librarian: Oh. Yeah, he wanted a treatise on goblin breeding habits.

Guard 2: Like, how they have sex? We have books on that?

Librarian: Yeah, turns out we do. I was as surprised as you are.

Guard 1: What'd the Stick Elf need a fuckin' goblin-fuckin' book for?

Librarian: I didn't ask. So you just call him "Stick Elf"?

Guard 2: I mean, he looks kinda elfy and he always has that stick, so, like, yeah.

Guard 1: Dude also has some fuckin' dope pipeweed.

Guard 2: Oh yeah, his pipeweed is awesome.

Librarian: How long has he been coming here?

Guard 2: Oh, for decades. He's, like, super old.

Guard 1: More like fuckin' centuries. Dude's old as balls.

Guard 2: Wait, really?

Guard 1: Yeah, my gran-gran used to talk about him. She loved his pipeweed too.

Librarian: So he's… an immortal pipeweed dealer?

Guard 2: I think he's just, like, a connoisseur. He doesn't sell it or anything. He just always has some really top-notch pipeweed on him.

Archivist: Oh, are we talking about Stick Elf?

Guard 1: Hell yeah we are!

Librarian: You know about the Stick Elf, too?

Archivist: Oh, totally. Stick-Elf's a super chill dude. Gave me some awesome pipeweed when I was maybe 12, and tee-bee-aitch I think I'm still a little buzzed from it.

Guard 1: What'd I tell ya, fuckin' dope pipeweed!

Archivist: Also he's really old.

Guard 1: Old as balls.

Librarian: Yeah, so Éodan and Jenniforomir were telling me.

Archivist: My grandpa used to tell me stories - he said one time he saw Stick Elf enter a smoke-ring contest.

Guard 1: Ooh, I'll bet he kicked fuckin' ass.

Archivist: Apparently the guy made an entire warship out of smoke and it flew around shooting down the other rings.

Librarian: And how much of this "fuckin' dope" pipeweed had your grandfather had by this point?

Guard 1: No no, that's totally plausible. Dude's got weird elf powers and shit for sure.

Archivist: He brought fireworks for the king's birthday one year, too.

Guard 1: Oh fuck, I forgot about those! Fuckin' incredible fireworks! Dragons and knights and glowy trees and shit! I was fuckin' 6 years old or something, they totally blew my mind. Hey Éodan, did you see that shit?

Guard 2: No, I think that's before I lived in Gondor.

Guard 1: Wait, you're not from here?

Guard 2: Oh, no, I grew up in Rohan. We moved here when I was, like, thirteen because my uncle Éojeff said he could get my dad a sweet job. And also that there were houses that didn't smell like horseshit.

Guard 1: Oh shit, are you related to Éojeff and Éosteve who run that æbleskiver stand on Norndîl St?

Guard 2: Yeah, they're my uncles!

Guard 1: Shit, they cook a fuckin' great æbleskiver!

Librarian: Ok, hold up a sec, "Stick Elf" can't possibly be his real name.

Guard 1: Why not?

Librarian: What? You think his parents named him in the hopes that he would carry around a fucking tree when he got older?

Guard 2: Maybe they gave him the tree when he was born!

Archivist: I don't think a baby could carry that stick.

Guard 1: You ever seen a baby hanging onto something? They're hella strong.

Archivist: It's not a strength thing, their hands are tiny. That staff is enormous!

Guard 1: My halberd's bigger 'n I am, I can hold it just fine.

Archivist: You're not a baby.

Librarian: Also why would elf parents name their kid "stick ELF"?! Presumably they know that their kid's going to be an elf!

Archivist: Is he actually an elf? I didn't think they grew beards.

Guard 1: How'd he get old as balls if he's not an elf?

Guard 2: His ears aren't that pointy. Maybe he's just a really old guy? Like, a Numémoriam or something?

Guard 1: Did you just say "Numémoriam"?

Guard 2: Nûnenorman? Munimõrbitan? Y'know, those guys like the king that can get super old.

Guard 1: You mean the fuckin' Númenóreans?

Guard 2: Yeah, the Númenóreums.

Archivist: Even the Númenóreans don't live THAT long.

Guard 1: Plus he carries that fuckin' stick around.

Guard 2: Wait, what does the stick have to do with it?

Guard 1: That's an elf thing. Y'know, trees and shit? Very elfy.

Librarian: Ok, look, but his parents naming him "Stick Elf" would be weird whether or not he's an elf. In fact, it's even weirder if he's not - what human names their kid "elf"?

Archivist: Huh. Yeah, you're right, he probably does have another name.

Guard 2: Yeah, I guess so.

Librarian: He's been coming here for decades and nobody's ever asked his real name?

Archivist: I dunno what to tell you, he's Stick Elf. Even his library card just says 'Stick Elf'.

Guard 1: Fuck yeah, the Stick Elf!

Guard 2: Maybe we could, like, ask him his name sometime?

Guard 1: Hey, look, Elrond's over there. He's old as balls too, maybe he knows?

Guard 2: Oh, we shouldn't interru-

Guard 1: HEY ELROND, YOU'RE OLD AS BALLS, RIGHT? WHAT'S THAT OLD ELF WITH THE STICK'S NAME?

Elrond (coming over): Do you mean an old man cloaked all in grey and blue, leaning on a rough-cut staff, who came to the great library this day?

Guard 1: Yeah, the Stick-Elf!

Guard 2: (Sorry to bother you, sir...)

Librarian: He's got to have a real name besides 'the Stick Elf', right?

Elrond: Indeed, for no elf is he. You speak of the wizard Olórin, wisest of the Maiar, older even than Eä itself. Many are his names in many countries: Tharkûn among the Dwarves; Incánus to the south; Mithrandir he is called among my people, the Grey Pilgrim.

Librarian: Oh.

Elrond: And here in the North he is called Stick-Elf.

Librarian: Oh.

Guard 1: Fuck yeah!