#we can’t go to obedience classes or anything like that

[seagulley]

regular haunts

[coryosbaby]

Your legs shift as Ethan’s hard cock sits inside of you. Per his request, you’re studying in the library for one of his econ classes. But the boy had other plans.

Because now, he’s aching and throbbing as he fills you to the brim with his girthy length, nails digging into your thighs to contain himself as you read out a paragraph from his textbook. Your face flushes, intensely so, when you see another student wrap around to the bookshelf beside the both of you. He leaves then, quickly, and you wonder if he saw your pussy being impaled on Ethan’s length. You lean back, a small whine leaving you as Ethan adjusts.

“Feels ‘s good, E, but w-what if..”

“What if what?” He teases. His fingers move down over your clit, sticky with your arousal. “What if we get caught? But I thought you weren’t ashamed of me, baby. Thought you’d do anything for me.”

You begin to stutter, your pussy quaking around him. “I-I will, sir ! ‘M a good girl, I swear!”

“Then shut the fuck up and keep my goddamn cock warm before I bend you over this table and let everyone see how much of a whore you are.”

You resume reading the textbook shakily, Ethan’s balls pressed up against you tightly. Ethan leans back, lifting your skirt up to spread your cheeks apart and look at you being impaled on him. Thank god most of the library is empty and secluded.

“Just another few minutes,” Ethan states coldly. “and if you’re a good girl, then maybe we’ll leave and I’ll fuck you so hard you can’t breathe.”

You nod obediently, hands on his thighs and your voice a mere whisper as you utter out the last page.

But subconsciously, your poor achy clit begs for friction and you begin to grind against Ethan’s cock and balls. He exhales sharply, and pulls you tighter against him as you begin to ride him discreetly. Finally, you moan out the last words of the lesson. But as you begin to try and move off of Ethan and cover yourself up, he yanks you back down onto him. You gasp, head leaning back on his shoulder as ecstasy fills you. He growls, low and deep, as his cock spews another rope of precum inside of you.

“Oh no, no, no, you sweet dumb thing.” He says. “You’re going to sit here for another hour until I’m done. Can’t have a little slut like you getting everything she wants when she’s being a bad girl, can we?”

[propertyofwhitney67]

A Reward

Big Bro Whitney x AFAB!Reader

Words: 669

Tw: Incest, cockwarming, implied blowjob at the end

Note: It has been too long since I've done an incest fic but this probably sucks

My big brother usually didn’t like me in his room, but he insisted I play a game with him. Knowing Whitney “playing a game” could range from actually playing a game to fucking. I was hoping he wanted to have sex, it’s been a while since we last fucked.

Walking into his room I came to the realization it may be a mix of both as I could see his pants undone and cock is out while he played a round of some new shooting game he recently got. I didn’t say anything as I stood beside him, not wanting to throw him off his game and lose. If I did, he would probably punish me. He absolutely hates losing and the proof is the controller size holes in his walls.

It took a few minutes for the round to end and for him to fully acknowledge me, “Strip slut.” I did as he asked, stripping down to nothing. “Good…so obedient for your big brother.” He pulled me onto his lap, slipping his cock inside my cunt. I moaned and he smirked, forcing the controller into my hands. “Now I want to see if you’re as good as you say you are.”  

His grip around my waist was tight and I knew there was no saying no. “Fine.” I whispered, shifting around in his lap but there was no getting comfortable. “I can’t promise I’ll be any good though.” I’ve always sucked at shooters like this.

He chuckled, groping my chest. “If you win a game I’ll reward you.” I couldn’t help but clench down around his cock, I have a pretty good idea what that reward is.

I took a shaky breath, trying to focus on the game and not Whitney’s twitching cock in my cunt. I picked the class I wanted and loaded into the game. I did not recognize anything about this map, I guess it’s one of the new ones. 

Right away I knew I was fucked when some kid trick shot me not even two minutes into the round, “Fuck!” I hate kids like this, he’s probably been playing nonstop since the game came out.

Whitney laughed, “What a try hard pussy.” He played with my body while I waited for the next round to start. Rubbing my clit while bouncing me on his cock, occasionally pinching with nipples.

When I was teetering on the edge of an orgasm the next round began and Whitney stopped. I whined but began to play the game again, albeit not great. I was distracted and missing a lot of easy shots. “Aww, poor baby can’t shoot for shit.” He chuckled in my ear, reaching down and rubbing my clit. “I wonder how long you can hold out. Maybe another round before you’re begging me to fuck you.”

Whining, I tried to focus on the game. “I can make it the whole game.” I wanted to prove him wrong for once, that I could hold out. That I wouldn’t break down and beg him to fuck me. Did I want that? Yes, but I also want to win a bet for once.

Despite how determined I am, I’m still awful at this game and Whitney knows that. “Sure you will, baby.” He laughed condescendingly, pinching my nipple and causing me to miss another easy kill.

The entire game went like this, there was no winning for me, no getting the reward he promised if I won. “Goddammit.” I grumbled upon seeing the score, to no one's surprise I lost the game. I tossed the controller to the side, crossing my arms and huffing.

Whitney laughed, “I knew you couldn’t do it.” He lifted me off is lap and pushed me to the ground, making me kneel between his legs. “Since you lost” He smirked down at me, forcing my face closer to his cock, “now you have to suck my cock.”

I could only sigh, gripping onto his thighs. “Fine…” I’m not going to be getting off tonight.

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘒𝘰-𝘍𝘪

[rodricksfilipinagf]

Academia AU Pt. 2 (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

CW: Baking, Smut

         Why, why did I agree to bake with Eris? I should have insisted I’d do it all by myself. Not that he would let me. He was as eager to prove his commitment and devotion to the English department as I was. Which meant agreeing to bake for its annual ball. 

         I don’t know how I was expecting Eris to live. Rich, definitely because of his wealthy father. The quintessential overstuffed bookshelves that an English professor would have. But when I get to his apartment, I’m proven right. Sure, there’s a crackling fireplace, tons of wooden bookshelves overstuffed with books (only classic literature, naturally.) There’s also cold, sterile vibes in the kitchen, with its enormous refrigerator and marble white island stocked with baking ingredients. What I wasn’t expecting were two smiling, friendly…

         “Greyhounds?” I ask.

         He sighs. “Y/N, meet Ben and Bea. They’re my pride and joy, and to my dismay, they seem to like you.” He hands me a bowl of dog treats. “Here, do you want to feed them?”

         “Sure,” I say, and put a dog treat on my hand for Ben to eat. He gobbles it from my hand easily, and Bea instantly whines, wanting her turn. She puts her paws on my thighs and starts licking my hand. “Okay, okay.” I reach into the bowl and take out a dog treat. Bea swallows it and gives me lots of tail wags. “I didn’t know you liked dogs,” I say as I kneel down and give Bea scritches behind the ears. Ben, not to be forgotten about, licks my face until I relent and pet him too. 

         “What pet would you have attributed to me?” he asks, looking as if he’s fighting off a smile. Is it possible he’s…happy at the sight of me bonding with his dogs. 

         “I don’t know. A snake, maybe?” After I say this, Ben barks numerous times as if to agree.

         This time, Eris can’t help but laugh. “Why?” A mischievous look enters his eye. “Might it be because you think I have a long-“

         “You talk this way in front of your dogs?” I shake my head. “Shame on you, Eris Vanserra. You’re not being a very good dog dad.”

         His face blanches, despite his jovial mood seconds earlier. “Shall we start baking?”

         “Um…okay,” I say, reluctant to stop playing with his dogs. 

         “Go in the living room. Go, go,” he says to the dogs, and they obediently go and settle onto their dog beds.

         “Their beds are in the living room?” I ask, washing my hands.

         “They have two each, one in the living room, and one in my bedroom. Through they don’t like use the bedroom ones. They’d rather take up too much space on my bed.”

         “Aww,” I say involuntarily. The thought of Eris being squished by his enormous dogs in bed sounded almost…cute. I dry my hands with a paper towel, determined to flush those thoughts out of my head. Eris Vanserra was not cute. He was a pain in my backside. Speaking of which…

         “I’m surprised you didn’t want to do brownies. From a box. The easy way, right?”

         My nostrils flare. “You just had to ruin it by being infuriating.”

         He raises an eyebrow. “Ruin what?”

I let out a sigh. “You being a decent human being.”

         I start kneading the dough. “You know my last class actually went well. My guest lecturer was superb.”

         Eris’s fist tightened around the rolling pin. “Oh, really?”

         “Yeah,” I say. “Rhysand really engaged the kids.”

         He snorts. “The fact that you call them kids says it all. They’re young adults. And should be treated like so. You’re not even presenting them with anything challenging.”

         “Oh, like you would know,” I fire back. 

         “So what makes Rhysand so special?” he skewers, using the rolling pin to flatten the dough. 

         “Well, like I said. He knows what the students want. First he did a reading of his latest romance novel, then he did a Q and A for whatever questions the students had, and then he led them in a writing workshop to see what they could do.”

         “I bet he did,” mutters Eris. 

         “The students loved him, which is more than I can say for you,” I say, laying out the chocolate chips. 

         “So I decided to do what you said and I picked up a romance book. His romance book.”

         I laugh. “Let me guess. You hated it.”

         “How could I not? It was dull and derivative.”

         “How dare you call it dull?” It was one of my favorite recent romance novels.

         “You mean have an opinion? Is this what you’re like in the classroom?” He continues, “It was riddled with cliches and went by them motion to motion, as if it were a paint by numbers. That should be something you’re familiar with.”

         “You are so annoying!” I explode.

         He snorts. “As if you’re not? Everything you say I want to shut you up.”

         “Well, too bad for you.” I flare my nostrils and glare at him. 

         He narrows his eyes. “You know what?” He takes a fistful of flour and releases it into my hair. 

         My face burns with rage. 

         He snickers. “This is a good look for you, bunny.”

         “Ughhh, you are such a child,” I stew.

         “Oh, really?” He raises an eyebrow. 

         My eyes go to the vanilla extract and his eyes follow mine. His hand is faster than mine and before I know it, he trickles vanilla extract down my cleavage.

         My blood is boiling by now. “Fuck you.”

         Eris smirks. “If you say so, bunny.”

         His lips crash into mine and I feel his fingers grip my ass and squeeze it as he lifts me onto the kitchen island. I pant heavily as he tears off my shirt and undoes my bra, tossing it away. I unbutton my pants and kick them off as he does the same to his pants and boxers.

         He fingers the edge of my panties. “If I were to remove these, would I find you wet for me?”

         “Fuck no,” I spit out.

         Eris clicks his tongue. “You know I punish liars, right, Y/N?”

         I grow wetter and wetter as he talks, and as he strokes outside my panties, I’m convinced he feels it. 

         “Mmm. Let’s see,” he says as he whips them off. He circles my very, very wet entrance with his finger. “Looks like someone’s been a bad girl. And you know what happens to bad girls.”

         He cleans up my sopping wet pussy with his tongue, teasing very close to my clit but not quite reaching it. 

         He tops me on the kitchen island and starts covering the underside of my breasts with slow licks. My nipples are hard by now, which is exactly what he wants.

         Eris examines my stiffening nipples with ravenous eyes. “Bunny, are these for me?” He gives me a wicked grin. “You shouldn’t have.” He takes a nipple into his mouth, giving it tantalizing licks before biting it hard. 

         I blush as I grow even wetter. 

         He smirks. “You like that, bunny?” He eases his dick inside me and starts thrusting into me. 

         I let out a moan. 

         “You looks so hot under me,” he tells me. “I like you a lot better this way.” He starts pounding into me harder and harder.

         He starts circling my clit with the tip of his dick, and I let out an excruciating moan. 

         “Want to finish, bunny?” he asks. “Admit you’re attracted to me.”

         I hesitate. 

         “I already licked your pussy. Your feelings for me are pretty obvious. I just want to hear you say it.” He smiles evilly at me. “Anytime now, bunny.”

         “Fine,” I breathe out. “I’m attracted to you, you asshole.”

         “That’s more like it,” he says before he plunges his dick into my clit. I let out an earthshattering scream as Eris loudly groans. 

         “Did you finish?” I ask. 

         A sinister look enters his eyes. “Not quite,” Eris replies as he takes his hand and closes it around his dick, spraying my face with what remained. 

He snickers. “Thanks for admitting you’re attracted to me.” What a dick.

                                                     ~

Eris lets me clean up in his bathroom, claiming haughtily that we’d better get some work done with our baking if we didn’t want to waste the evening. 

         As I cleaned up my face, I wondered if this was something Eris wanted to do for a while or only did during the spur of the moment. Either way, it was hot. I was sort of ashamed to admit it, given he’d treated me like absolute trash. But I hated to admit that he did also satisfy me sexually. 

         When I opened the bathroom door and saw him there, I couldn’t help but blush, thinking about how he made me feel. 

         “Are you done?” he asks tersely. 

         “Um, yeah,” I say, stepping outside. 

         “Good,” he replies, stepping into the bathroom. 

         I make my way back to the kitchen, wondering what was up with him. It was understandable that he wanted this to be a one-time thing but now he wasn’t acting like himself. 

         In fact- I swallow- he acted most like himself when we were fucking. What happened? I start sprinkling chocolate chips into the dough. Not that I want him to do it again- he was a repugnant asshole…but also the sexiest man I’ve ever been with. 

         I almost didn’t hear him come in. “So Y/N…” I hear him say, but then my phone rings. 

         “Hang on,” I tell him. I dig out my phone from my purse. “Hello?”

         “Hello, darling,” Rhysand’s voice purrs. “How is your gorgeous self?”

         “Oh.” I blush, and Eris’ eyes narrow. “Great, Rhysand, what’s up?”

         “I just wanted to know if…guest lecturers such as myself were welcome at the English Department Charity Ball this Friday night. I wanted to check before leaving town completely.”

         “Oh. Yeah, Rhysand, you can absolutely come.”

         Eris was positively glowering at this point. 

         “Fantastic. Would it be too forward of me to ask you to be my date?”

         “Your date?” I repeat. I glance at Eris, who just looked at me blankly. “It’s not really a date…event. Thank you for asking, though.”

         “Of course, darling. I’ll see you there.” 

         Eris deigned to say, “Rhysand” after I hung up the phone. “He asked you out?”

         “Yes,” I say. Just because he fucked just now didn’t mean that he owned me. “So?”

         He shrugs. “I don’t care.”

         I let out an incredulous breath. “What, were you going to ask me?”

         He rolls his eyes. “Why would I? Go with perfect Rhysand, who enthralled all your students.”

         “Wait,” I say. 

         “No, I wasn’t going to ask you,” he said, bunching up the cookie dough into little balls. “Why would I? I despise you.”

         “I- I despise you too,” I say. “Us fucking was a one-time thing.”

         He gives me a cruel smile. “Do you want it to be a one-time thing? I may hate you, but I don’t hate fucking you,” he assures me. 

         My heart lifts in spite of itself. “Fine.” I don’t want to seem too eager. 

         He nods. “Fine. Should we get back to baking?”

         “Yeah,” I say. So he wants to fuck me, but he doesn’t want to date me. That’s fine. That’s perfectly fine. Maybe I should give Rhysand a chance…

[igotanidea]

Those damn visions: Xavier Thorpe x Addams!reader

request by @bobweirsgroupie (thank you and hope you'll like it) :Maybe Xavier or Tyler x Addams! Reader. Maybe the reader and Wednesday are twins with connected powers? So anytime Wednesday has a vision so does reader and it really scared them ?

warnings: well, apart from the plot being all over the place, none ig

My twin and I were a lot alike when it came to internal aspects – thinking and character. We both preferred to keep our distance, watch from the perspective, gather intel before acting.  Wednesday was a bit more reserved with her emotions, I was rather the “fuck around find out” and sarcastic type of person. While my sister took time to get her revenge and did it with cold face or smirk at best, I would kick asses and burn the world down if anyone hurt someone I cared about. That is if I ever were to admit I cared. But, generally speaking, we had quite a connection and not so surprisingly, when we started attending Nevermore this bond between us developed.

“We need some ground rules.” She stated when we were sitting in our common dorm, Enid gone who knows where.

“Ground rules?” I raised an eyebrow at her “I thought we were aware of each other’s limits?”

“Perhaps, but still.”

“Well, if anything, I should be the one to make them. I’m older than you.”

“By five minutes, shall I remind you?”

“Perhaps, but still.” I smirked

“You are overemotional. You can’t make rational rules of our attendance here.” She spat

“You are under emotional and therefore you are not capable of that either.” I retorted, knowing well enough neither of us was going to back down.  “Maybe we should let Hand cover this matter?”

“It can’t even stay undercover long enough for us not to notice him. I’m not entrusting Hand with my fate.”

“Well then, I guess the ground rules stays as usual. It’s enough we have to stay in the same room during the school year, am I right?”

“Precisely.”

“I’m glad we agree on something. Oh, and just in case, I call dibs on archery as extracurricular, so stay out of this field. Apparently you made some impression on fencing, so maybe stick to that.”

“For once, you have a good idea. I have to take Bianca Barclay down.”

“Well, I’m going to dethrone Thorpe since you already found an enemy for yourself. ”

“I did” she smirked almost invisibly “don’t you dare skimming her off”

***

“Good shot.”

Xavier Thorpe turned around abruptly, his bow high, aimed at me.

“Careful with that” I pointed out and he lowered the gear

“Addams.”

“Hello Mr Thorpe. Enjoying the day?”

“I was. Is your sister somewhere around?” his gaze was fixed behind my back and I shook my head in disbelief

“Nope. You know we have this rule, divide and conquer, she is after Bianca Barclay, you’re ex from what I’ve heard.”

“Enid?”

“Pretty much. This girl is just constantly talking about so many stuff.”

“That’s just who she is. It has some charm.”

“Maybe.” I shrugged “And as for my sister, don’t think I didn’t notice how you were eyeing her in the quad. You really should be careful around her, she will eat you alive if you develop any feelings for Wednesday Addams.”

“Really? She seems more like all bark and no bite”

Despite my best judgement I let out a laugh, which only grow louder at Xavier’s confused grin.

“What?”  he asked

“Don’t ever let her hear you say that. Cause that sentence would really be the course of your slow and painful death.”

“You know, you are different than her.” He pointed out

“Not so much. Perhaps, a bit more open, but everything else is basically the same. I’m a devil in disguise, Mr. Thorpe. You will never see me coming for you, deceived by all my charm.” I took a bow from his hands and  aimed at the butt, scoring perfectly “like I said, good shot, but not as good as mine.” When I turned around I met surprised gaze of my colleague. “What?”

“Could you stop calling me Mr. Thorpe? It’s Xavier.”

***

From the very morning I wasn’t feeling well, so Enid made me stay in bed and skip classes. Not that I was going to listen, but pretending to be obedient was easier than arguing with the blonde werewolf. As soon as she and Wednesday closed the door I jumped out from under the cover, ready to sneak out the dorm. Not for classes though, but into the forest. I heard Xavier had some crazy hiding spot there and I wanted to check it out. You know what they say – knowledge is power and I tried to live by that rule. So, tip-topping through the quad I made it to the school borders unnoticed.

The forest was far more magical than the Nevermore itself, quiet and peaceful, but mystique and eerie at the same time. Perfect combination and it was easy for me to understand why Xavier picked this as his hideout. For some time, not sure how long, I was just wandering around with no clear purpose when all of a sudden I felt extreme headache. The one that makes your vision blurry, your legs to give up and all the sounds and colors excessive.

“Oh, shit!” I muttered sitting down and leaning on the nearest tree, not sure of what was happening, where it came from and why was it so extreme. This was not normal and something inside me was just screaming something was happening to Wednesday. The last thing I remembered before blacking out was someone coming from the woods and running my way. With so many funny ways to die, I was going to be murdered in the forest, outside the school for freaks….. My sister is going to have such a blast when she hears about it.

***

 “You should have been more creative in your suicidal techniques.”

“I had a feeling you would say that” I propped myself on the elbow, facing my twin sitting on the edge of the hospital bed. “I see botany lesson left you with no scars, such a surprise. I was really hoping some poisonous plant would leave a mark.”

“Good to know nothing happened to you” she smirked and faint glow in her eyes gave away the fear she had for me.

“Not that you were worried, of course.”

“Of course. The only thing that made me slightly concerned was that it was Thorpe who brought you here. Something about you running around his hiding spot?”

“Did you  believe it?”

“I tried not to. I thought we had a code and now you bring shame to the family.”

“Black sheep, I guess. Pugsley would be relieved to see me taking the spot.”

“Y/N.”

“What exactly happened Wednesday? Do you have any idea? I mean, I fainted but …..

“What? Trying to find an excuse for being weak?”

“Nope. Trying to blame it on you.” she looked at me with no changed expression but I knew she was curious of what was coming next “I know it was your fault. I .. I felt it. So, did something happen during your class.”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“Nothing happened.” She repeated flatly, but since of course I did not believe her, I grabbed her wrist and then my head exploded again. I saw exactly what happened. In my mind I saw her having some sort of vision, her head upturned, eyes wide, indulged in her own mind. We both gasped as I retrieved my hand and broke the touch

“What was that?” I blinked, a mix of surprise, fear and curiosity in my voice.

“No idea. But it’s interesting.” My twin narrowed her eyes “we will figure it out, but for now, no one should know.”

“Agreed.” I nodded

“Can I talk to her now?” male voice came from behind the door, fury dripping from it  “you can’t keep me here forever, Addams.”

“What did you do to him?” I sighed, knowing how creative my sister could be ”hope it wasn’t piranhas. It’s not your style to use the same idea twice…..”

*** “How are you feeling?” when Wednesday finally let him into the room Xavier finally get him chance to get inside.

“You brought me here?”

“That’s not the answer.”

“Yeah, I tend to ask rather than answer Better get used to it.” I shrugged “but I’m fine, I guess. Now, why did you help me?”

“Couldn’t risk you dying anywhere near me, right? That would bring suspicions towards me. You know, some crazy creature runs around school and you can never be sure if that’s not me.”

“You suddenly became much more interesting, Mr. Thorpe. And for the record, someone may already suspect you are the monster.”

“Let me guess who” he shook his head, smiling lightly and this view gave me some sort of warmth.

“Me. Of course. You practically just confessed to that.”

“Well then, maybe you will pay closer attention to me now” he looked straight into my eyes and smiled fully.

Fuck! For the first time in my life I felt like I wasn’t in control of the situation.

***

A day later, after some thorough observation, I left the hospital wing and was immediately intercepted  by my sister, who dragged me into the dorm.

“What exactly are we doing?” I muttered as she forced me to the floor, marked with some ancient signs “and since when are you using Celtics?”

“Desperate times calls for desperate measures.” She hissed and sat in front of me, lighting a candle “Enid’s away and it’s our only chance for a bit of peace.”

“So we are searching for the origin of that unnecessary link between our visions?”

“I want it out”

“Mhm. I wouldn’t like to see something that would make me burn my eyes.” I nodded “but do you think we can eradicate it?”

“We have to, Y/N. Now, shall we start?”

We held hands, closed our eyes and called upon the ghosts of the ancestors to lead the way for us, but before anything could happen Enid burst through the door, the wind she caused blowing the candle out and destroying the atmosphere.

“Sorry, girls! But you know, we have to get ready for the Raven’s! We are going shopping!”

“I am not attending that stupid dance.” Wednesday grumpily raised herself from the floor.”

“Oh, come on, Wednesday. Don’t be like that” Enid pouted “Y/N, convince your sister to come!”

“Not going to. And besides, I’m not going either.” I shrugged.

“I’m not accepting that!”

***

Despite mine and Wednesday’s stubbornness, due to some unexpected events, including our little monster chase we were forced to attend the dance. One day, in the middle of the pouring rain, Wednesday drugged me out into the forest in search for some clues. We were all soaked, cold and desperately determined to find anything to get us closer to the solution. It was hard in the pouring rain though and the footprints we found were dissolving pretty quickly. Almost as fast as my wet hair were starting to stick to my face.

“Come on, you know it’s pointless in this weather” I tried to bargain dealing with the water in my eyes when much to my surprise I stopped feeling the drops and an umbrella appeared above my head.

“What are you two doing here?” Xavier asked urging Wednesday to hide from the rain as well

“Investigating.” She muttered

“Does it bring much results?” he smirked

“See those traces. They start as animal and then turn into human, so …..” she trailed and then went all pale. Oh, no, not now…..”

“Wednesday, Y/N? Are you guys all right?” Thankfully this time neither me nor my sister lost conscience, but we were out in another vision for quite a while

“Are we ever?” I muttered eyeing my sister. She was…. Looking at Xavier intensely. I bet it has nothing to do with the fact that she suspected him of being the monster.

“Will you……?” she started

“Will I what?” Xavier was a bit confused but he knew what kind of question was coming

“Will you……?”

“She wants to ask….” I chimed in, trying to take action and resolve this crazy situation that truly had my heart breaking. She was going to ask him to the dance! It should have been me!

“Be quiet, Y/n. Will you go the dance with me?” Wednesday finally gasped out. Xavier shot a glance at me but seeing me looking down at the ground turned the gaze back on Wednesday

“Sure” he grinned and my heart was officially shuttered. “Wasn’t that hard was it?” he added, but slowly shifted position, almost like this question wasn’t meant for my sister.

***

“You are using him.” I pointed out to Wednesday when we were back in school

“Of course. He is probably the monster.”

“I have no doubt about it” I muttered “keep enemies closer, right?”

“You are developing feelings for him.”

“What? No. of course not. “

“You are. Shame I cannot trust you anymore. I guess I’ll stick to the If you want to do something good do it by yourself rule. “

“If that’s what you want. I won’t stay in your way.”

I guess, life has the tendency to take unexpected turns and that’s why Wednesday ended up coming to the dance with Tyler Galpin instead of Xavier (I loved her face when she found out she was set up by Hand) and Xavier choose Bianca as his company. Which left me alone either way.

While Wednesday was clearly enjoying herself on the dancefloor, I was getting drunk on Yeti-tini.

“Hey, Y/N” Enid came to my rescue, since apparently in her opinion I was lonely. “Having fun?”

“Plenty. Between watching my sister and healing hurt pride.”

“What happened?”

“We had a bit of an argument. Nothing important, really, at least nothing that I would take to heart. But she may have pointed out some things I didn’t consider to be true so far.”

“Xavier?” Enid smiled lightly

“What?”

“He’s been looking at you for at least fifteen minutes now?”

“I got a stalker. How wonderful.” I took a sip of my drink, turning gaze on him, causing Thorpe to blush and look down.

“Maybe you should…” Enid started but then we both felt something cold and wet dripping from the ceiling “what is that? “ she-wolf frowned in confusion

“That, my dear, is clearly the end of the party.”

When all hell broke loose and the paint sprayed through the pipes, everyone went crazy and I found myself running around the forest with my sister in search for Eugene.

“Go left, I take the right!” I yelled at her as we parted ways in the cold, empty and definitely eerie surroundings.

And yet again, the vision had really, really bad timing. Before I blacked out my last thought wish was that my sister would be safe.

***

Luckily she walked out, while I ended in a hospital. Again.

“Why is it always me?” I muttered opening my eyes and noticing a pair of very worried dark eyes staring into my face, making me sit up at once “What the hell, Xavier?”

“We really gotta stop meeting like this.” He smirked

“Hear, hear to that. Every time you are around something bad happens. To me, mostly.”

“I’m sorry” he muttered

“Why? Why are you sorry? Why do you care?”

“Because I like you!”

“You like me?” I raised eyebrows. I understood a lot of things. Serial killers minds, criminal techniques, mysteries and talking to ghosts, but this? He liked me? “Why?”

“I have no freaking idea! You think it makes sense to me? It doesn’t! But it is what it is!”

“Could you stop yelling?” I interrupted his train of thoughts, rubbing my forehead

“Are you all right? Were you hurt?”

“I guess not permanently, which is progress. Is Wednesday safe?”

“You talk like you don’t know her.” He grinned and I couldn’t help but reciprocate

“Right? She is a magnet for danger and unusual events.”

“So are you.” he leaned closer taking my hand in his.

“Are you danger, Mr. Thorpe?”

“Well, I guess I will have to stick around long enough so you could find it out.”

“and be your last victim?” I smiled sheepishly, almost unnoticeably.

“I surely hope so…..” he whispered holding my hands tighter.

@somest1

@pinksirensong

[yanderecrazysie]

can i request this:

yandere!shirabu who gets partnered with shy!reader for a project

Of course you can request that, I honestly LOVE that you did! Shirabu is so precious oml

Title: Aloof

Pairings: Shirabu x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, I can’t not adore Shirabu

Summary: Your project partner poses more problems than you realize.

aloof

/adjective/

not friendly or forthcoming; cool and distant.

“And our last group will be (L/n) and Shirabu. Please go to your assigned partners and start planning out your project.”

This was possibly the worst case scenario for you. If there was one person in this class that frightened you, it’d be Shirabu. It wasn’t that he was a bully or anything, he was just unapproachable, sharp-tongued, and had a piercing glare.

Hesitantly, you turned in your seat to look at him across the room. He was already staring at you, cheek resting on his fist, an impatient scowl on his face as he waited for you to come to him.

You swear you tried to move from your seat, you really did, but you were frozen in place. Under Shirabu’s intense stare, there was no way you could approach him. You were too timid to face someone as frightening as him!

The bowl-cut boy rolled his eyes and let out an annoyed huff as he stood up and gathered his things. You sat, stiff as a board, as he approached you with a turned-up nose. He looked like he couldn’t stand working with you already.

“So we’re working together,” the boy sighed, dropping his books on your desk with a loud thump, making you jump in your seat. You could have sworn a somewhat sadistic smirk crossed his face for a split second, but it was gone in the blink of an eye.

“Give me your phone,” he demanded, holding out an expectant hand.

“Why?!” You managed to squeak out.

Shirabu rolled his eyes, “Because we need to exchange our numbers. How do you think we’re going to meet up for this project?”

“O-oh…” You felt a blush rising to your cheeks and desperately willed it away, “Yeah, you’re right. Here, I’ll put in your number myself…”

The two of you exchanged numbers, Shirabu tapping his fingers impatiently on your desk when your trembling fingers mistyped his number in your phone. The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and you couldn’t be more relieved.

“We’re meeting at the library tomorrow. After school.” It wasn’t an invitation, more like a demand. Shyly, you nodded your head.

You packed up your stuff as Shirabu left the classroom, wondering what you did to deserve this stroke of misfortune. Of everyone in the class… why him?

To Shirabu, this was an incredible stroke of luck. As soon as he was sure no one was around, he allowed himself to smile. He looked down at his phone where your number was now stored. This was the best thing that had ever happened to him!

All it would take is a simple text and he could have your cute, shy, obedient self in his house. You’d be like a jumpy bunny, he knew, trying not to upset him in his own home.

God, this was amazing. He felt himself shaking slightly as he mulled over the power he had over you. You were too timid to fight back, it would be so easy to do whatever he wanted with you.

He’d invite- no, tell you to come over to his house in a few days, when he was ready. You’d keep your pretty mouth shut in fear and never breathe a word about where you were going to anyone. 

And then, he just had to make sure you never left.

[xseaweed-brain]

I'll admit I was going to skip out on a Nico bday fic this year, but after seeing the read riordan website, I couldn't help using it as a prompt. Fic also posted to AO3.

In which it's Nico's birthday, and he ends up (accidentally) spending the day with his father, stepmother and boyfriend in the Underworld.

Of Birthdays and Baking.

Nico strolls in the direction of the infirmary after teaching his morning sword-fighting class.

Camp Half-Blood had promising new recruits this year. They're obedient, and when Nico speaks, they pay attention.

That's because they're all terrified of you, he can hear the teasing tone of a certain son of Apollo in the back of his mind as a smile, as warm and brief as a flicker of sunlight on a cold winter's day, flutters across his lips.

It amused him to think of the younger ones being afraid of him-- as if they didn't know that beneath his tough exterior, he was soft for them and would do anything to protect them.

He enters the main hall of the infirmary, then makes his way past the beds, straight to the small office. Nico had agreed to pick up an extra day shift to help his boyfriend out, so they could celebrate his birthday with a fancy night out. For the longest time, Will had been hinting that he wanted Nico to take him to Paris, and that's exactly what he intends to do tonight.

💀☀️

Instead of the usual mane of shaggy blonde hair bent over the desk, he's greeted by the sight of Austin Lake, his boyfriend's brother, filling out some discharge forms. Nico clears his throat, and Austin looks up at him.

"Hey, man," he nods, "Happy Birthday."

"How did you know?" Nico asks, "I haven't--"

"No, you haven't," Austin agrees, "But, Will's been driving himself crazy trying to think of the perfect gift. So now, the entire Apollo cabin knows."

Nico groans, shaking his head. He'd told Will not to get him anything, but his boyfriend was too kind for his own good.

"Do you know where he is?" Nico asks.

"No clue," Austin says, "He just asked me to cover this shift for him. This is for you, by the way."

It's a little "Happy Birthday" card. Nico flips it over to see what's written on the inside. There, in Will's surprisingly neat handwriting, is a small message:

"Wishing you the happiest of birthdays, babe! I can’t think of anyone else I would rather venture into Tartarus than you. Speaking of: is there any possibility that we can wait a few weeks (or months) before we go? At least let me take you to Disney World first. I know you’ve always wanted to go to the Haunted Mansion!”

Nico smiles fondly as he reads.

"Dang. I always forget how cute you two are," he hears Austin mutter.

"Shut up, Austin," Nico says without any bite, as he turns so Austin can't see the pink staining his cheeks.

Back to his cabin it is, then.

"Happy birthday, grandpa!" Austin calls behind him, his snickering echoing around the empty infirmary.

Nico flips him off this time.

💀☀️

He pauses at the door of his cabin, lifing off the little note stuck there.

In elegant cursive, it's written:

“Enjoy your birthday, son. Maybe, if you’re not otherwise occupied, you would like to venture down into the Underworld and spend some time with your father? Perhaps Persephone and I will even bake a cake for you. Perhaps.”

His eyes widen. His father never invited him down to the Underworld to spend his birthday. In fact, Nico isn't even sure if Hades and Persephone knew how to bake a cake.

But, he knows someone who does know how to bake a cake.

Swearing under his breath, he scoured his surroundings for the nearest shadows. Surely, his boyfriend wasn't actually in the Underworld, baking him a cake with his father and stepmother-- but he knows, deep down, it's exactly the thing Will Solace would do.

💀☀️

The skeletal guard at the door of the Palace of the Underworld looks right at him with twin black holes where his eyes used to be.

"Where is my father?" He asks.

The guard raises a finger in the direction of the kitchen.

"Alright," Nico mutters in amazement, "This is really happening."

He can hear a familiar voice with a light twang speak as he nears the large wooden double doors.

"Y'got it, Lord Hades."

"Oh, this looks beautiful," comes a lighter, feminine voice.

As he enters the kitchen, he sees his father, the almighty king of the Underworld, standing with an apron tied around his waist, a piping bag of icing in his hand. Lady Persephone stands next to him, pressing her fingers against the.... carnations (?) on the cake, changing their colours. Will stands on the other side, carefully supervising the two gods.

"Hi, babe," Nico says dryly, and like three guilty children, three pairs of eyes meet his.

"Nico," Hades says, face suspiciously blank, "I left the note, but I didn't think you would come."

"I wasn't going to," his lips twitch as he fights off a laugh, "But, I had the wildest theory as to where my significant annoyance had disappeared to, and I thought no. No way. I just had to see if it was true."

"Oh, I'll get you for that," Will mumbles, face flushing.

Hades clears his throat.

"Oh. Right. Father," Nico says, bowing slightly, "Lady Persephone. How exactly did Will manage to rope you into this?"

"Hey!" Will says, indignantly.

"It was all Lord Hades' idea," Persephone says, helpfully, "I figured you and I might as well bury the hatchet, as we'll both be in each other's lives forever."

"Right..." Nico trails off.

"We hope you like it," Hades calmly gestures at the cake, as though he was gesturing to send a ghost back to the fields of Asphodel.

It's nice-- cream icing with purple and red carnations at the top. Persephone tells him those are the flowers of January.

"All due respect, but can we eat this?" Nico asks, frowning lightly.

Persephone rolls her eyes, muttering a few choice words about her mother.

"The cake is entirely made of human materials," Hades answers.

Will produces some candles and Hades waves at it, lighting it. They sing Happy Birthday, and Persephone produces a large knife to share the cake.

His father approaches him, while Will and Persephone fuss over the leftovers. It's strange, watching the Queen of the Underworld chatter happily with his boyfriend.

"She has a soft spot for brave heroes," Hades says, adoringly.

"Will's braver than we'll ever know," Nico smiles, watching his boyfriend.

"The older you get," Hades says, and something in his voice makes Nico look over at him.

He has the most smug look on his face, and Nico can see that this is the same, exact look he gives Frank when he beats him at mythomagic.

"The more I realize how alike we are," Hades finishes, "Even in something as small as our choice in partners."

Realization hits him like a slap across the face. Fuck. His father is right. They are more alike than he cares to admit.

Nico looks over at his stepmother and boyfriend again. He knows that, as a goddess, Persephone could choose whichever form she wanted to appear in. Today, she has long blonde locks and blue eyes, eerily similar to Will's appearance. It doesn't help when Hades adds, "This is how she first appeared, you know. Before she came to the Underworld with me."

Persephone is the goddess of spring and Will is a son of Apollo-- meaning they both have similar, sunny dispositions. They are the exact opposite of Nico and Hades, but somehow manage to bring out the best in them both.

"Happy birthday, son," Hades repeats in that smug tone, clapping him on the shoulder.

[aarghhaaaarrrghhh]

A Summer in a Pioneer's Neckerchief/Лето в пионерском галстуке - Chapter Eighteen

Master post here

Chapter Eighteen - The Final Night

Volodya stood in a stupor, neither budging an inch, nor blinking as he stared at the path down which the girls had just left.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Yurka approached him and snapped his fingers in front of his eyes. It turned out badly – his palms were still sweaty from fear.

He knew that he could not let Volodya retreat into himself – that would be the finishing touch to ruin their last evening.

“I don’t know…” Volodya seemed to come back to his senses. “Masha’s cry is now going to come to me in my nightmares, but… I can’t believe we got out of that.”

“The main thing is that we got out of it! Or… do you think we haven’t? Do you think she’ll tell Leonidovna?”

“Irina? No,” he replied confidently. “Otherwise she would have dragged us along with her. Or do you mean Masha?” he added warily. “Do you think Masha will tell?”

“Nah, she’d be too afraid. It’s all well and good telling Ira about something like that, but Leonidovna and the director, that’s far scarier.”

“That’s exactly what’s scary! If she tells anyone, it’ll be them. They’re older and more experienced, they know that it exists. Not like Irina.”

“Fine… Alright. Let’s suppose she tells them. And what? What’ll happen is they’ll ask the victim, me, was it really like that? And I’ll say that Masha’s lying! And you, and Ira… Everyone will say that Masha’s lying – Polya and Ksyusha won’t be able to keep their tongues behind their teeth, they’ll gossip. They’ll have no case to bring against us, nobody was injured.”

“True, there’s also no corpus delicti.”

“Well then, shall we get going to the willow?”

Volodya nodded, turned off the torch and turned from the path into the forest.

“So that no-one tags along after us again,” he explained. “Although that’s not likely anymore…”

After another couple of minutes, while they were skirting around the bluff, he paused and started setting an alarm on his watch.

“Did you leave anything at the bonfire?”

“Are we not going to go back there?”

“Returning is a bad sign,” Volodya smiled and headed further on.

Yurka followed Volodya obediently, trying with difficulty to organise his thoughts. He felt guilty, since he was the one who let them down: he had not asked permission from Irina and had not kept track of Masha.

“Sidorova’s a pest,” he stated. “It must have been her who sent Ira after us, there’s no-one else. The PUK girls came bounding after her. It seemed like she was distracted by thread-the-needle and wouldn’t notice that I left–”

“You don’t have to justify yourself, Yur. We’ve already found out that Masha can be an excellent spy at times. By the way, I was very surprised that you stuck up for her. Well done.”

Yurka made a face:

“Even I’m not sure what came over me. I just sort of felt bad for her… What do you reckon, will Ira snitch on Masha to Leonidovna? Accusing a Komsomolets of something like this is no laughing matter, right?”

Volodya chuckled and said:

“Unlikely. Just imagine what Irina would be getting herself in for in that scenario. Besides, she’s still just a counsellor, not a class leader or some kind of pedagogue or whatever. Especially since this is the last day; tomorrow, Irina will become, in essence, a nobody to Masha, and no-one will listen to her. And an investigation would be pointless for Leonidovna,” Volodya laughed. “She had enough of Konev last year. But why are you so interested?”

“Well…” Yurka faltered. “Polya was right – it would brand Masha forever…”

“You’re worried about her?” Judging by his tone, Volodya was even more surprised.

“Well…” Yurka let hang again. “Although I still think she’s a walking menace.”

“Come on, Yur. She’s just a girl in love. Her love can’t be evil by itself.”

Yurka began to laugh sullenly.

“You’re one to talk, Volodya! This is the kind of love that’s evil, not the kind you were talking about. She blackmailed you, trying to get you to respond and now she’s brought this heap of trouble down on us.”

“No, Yura,” said Volodya obstinately. “She doesn’t know how she’s supposed to love, she’s in despair. She needs sympathy, underst–”

“I’m also in despair and don’t know how I’m suppose to love either!” exclaimed Yurka. “But for some reason, I don’t spy on you or try to do terrible things!”

Volodya paused, turned to him and smiled cunningly.

“That’s because your love is reciprocated. Go on, Yur, remind me, who was throwing apples at me not so long ago?”

Yurka reflected how to reply to him, but he did not manage to think up anything – they had reached the ford.

In order to cross it, he had to take his trousers off. In the daytime, Yurka had forded there in shorts and just rolled them up, but now the prospect of sitting around in jeans, damp above the knee, did not please him. The river water was not particularly cold, but his legs were covered in goosebumps by the time he climbed out the other side. Volodya quickly dived through in his sports bottoms, while Yurka had to suffer with his jeans, and as a reward, he received several mosquito bites. He made a face as he put his shoes on – his wet feet squelched unpleasantly in his trainers.

While they hurried to the willow on the opposite bank, Yurka asked:

“What did you say to Ira to get her to leave us be all the way until one?”

“I reminded her that I covered for her and Zhenya when she asked.”

“Oh, so you know…” Yurka was surprised.

Volodya looked asquint at him:

“Zhenya lives in the same room as me, how could I not know?”

“And what do you think about it?”

“About what?”

“About how Zhenya’s married, but he’s seeing Ira.”

Volodya shrugged:

“He loves her. I don’t know about anyone else, but it’s super obvious to me. They had yet another argument yesterday, and I was there like a broken telephone. Irina came to complain, she asked me whether she was doing the right thing or not.”

“Oh-hoh! So, you’ve become their couple’s counsellor?” Yurka burst out laughing.

“Uh-huh,” chuckled Volodya. “Almost their matchmaker. But it wasn’t all by myself, Zhenya forced me to.”

“But what did you say to her?”

“I… I told her to think about her own life and not pay attention to others. People around you will always be saying something and judging you, but perhaps it’s worth not giving a damn about others, at least sometimes? If she’s happy with him, let her be with him, you know?”

Yurka stopped in his tracks.

“You really said that to her?”

Volodya also stopped, turned to him and smiled:

“Yeah.”

“That’s really what you think?”

“Yes.”

Something boiled over inside Yurka – something between anger and insult. The memory of their conversation in the construction site was still too fresh.

“There it is…” he drawled angrily. “But when it comes to you, you think of yourself like some kind of monster and can’t let yourself be happy, yeah?”

“That’s completely different, Yur–”

“It’s exactly the same!” shouted Yurka. “You said that you’re afraid of hurting me, in the same way that Ira’s afraid of hurting Zhenya. You’re the same as her, looking to other people and thinking you’re a bad person, because that’s what they all think! And you don’t want to listen to me when I try to convince you otherwise! Why?”

“You don’t understand–”

“I understand everything! Enough treating me like a child, you’re not that much older! Look how much I’ve changed – you’re the one who’s changed me. Just three weeks ago, I was afraid to even go near a piano, even though everyone was trying to persuade me to: my mum, my father, my relatives! They tried with all their might! But I was only able to overcome my fear thanks to you. But you can’t overcome yours, even though I’m begging you to! Do it for me! So don’t tell me what I don’t understand. I understand perfectly well what you’re afraid of. I’m also afraid! But I can step past that fear!” He paused and sighed raggedly, as though he had lost all his ardour in the blink of an eye. Quietly, his eyes lowered, he added: “Because I love you.”

Volodya froze and stared at him, his mouth agape in surprise. Yurka felt ill at ease with what he had said and how he had said it – he had poured it all out at Volodya, and so abruptly… He knew that it was neither the time nor the place to get into everything, but, on the other hand, if not then, then when?

Volodya clearly had still not found a response. He simply took Yurka’s hand and led him on further – to where the slope to the water and the magnificent crown of the willow were visible.

Once they were beneath the dome of the willow tree, Volodya took the blanket out of his rucksack, spread it out on the ground, and got the capsule, his notebook and a pencil. He said:

“There. We need to write something to ourselves, ten years in the future.”

Yurka took a seat on the blanket. Volodya joined him and took his damp shoes off his feet. Yurka followed his example. He took the pencil and notebook off Volodya and wrote on the final page: What ever happens dont lose each other.

“So many mistakes, Yur!” grumbled Volodya. “‘Whatever’ is one word, and you missed the apostrophe in ‘don’t’, and the comma.”[1]

Yurka looked at him reproachfully. Volodya guiltily added:

“But that doesn’t matter at all right now! No, don’t correct it, it’s even better that way. It’s clear that it’s the young hooligan, Yurka Konev writing.” A smile could be heard in his voice. “You’ll remember it in ten years’ time… Right, now it’s my turn. Give me some light.”

With one hand, Volodya took the notebook and bent lowly over it, and with the second, he scrawled out in tight, even handwriting:

‘Whatever happens, don’t lose yourself…’ Suddenly his hand shook. Without thinking that it would blind him, Yurka lifted the torch to Volodya’s face. He sharply recoiled and turned away, but Yurka had time to notice that his eyes were wet.

“Don’t cry, Volod, or I’ll also–”

Without letting him finish, Volodya gripped Yurka by the shoulders and squeezed him to himself. With his nose pressed into his neck, he muttered something unintelligible.

Yurka choked on the pain, flaring up anew, and with difficulty regaining his self-control, he hugged him back. In the hot, indistinct whisper into his neck, he could only make out ‘Yurka, Yurochka…’

If it had lasted another minute, Yurka would also have fallen apart – he wanted cry or to shout out of helplessness, he knew not which. But Volodya quickly took him in his hands and said:

“That’s right, there’s no need for that now. It can wait for later.”

He picked the notebook back up again and continued to write. Yurka sniffled as he gave him light with the torch.

‘Remain the same as we were in ’86. Volodya – graduate university with a distinction and go to America. Yura – get into a conservatoire and become a pianist.’

“Ready. What else will we put in the time capsule?” he asked as he finished writing.

Yurka took a damp sheet of paper out the pocket of his jeans – the notes he wrote to himself to practise.

“Here, the Lullaby – it’s the most valuable thing I had this season.” He placed the notes in the capsule.

Volodya rolled his notebook up and lowered it into the tube – in it was the edited script with all his notes, personal remarks over the season and his promises to his future self.

“There’s something else,” said Yurka as he rummaged about in his pocket. “Here. I think this should also be kept here.”

He took out the slightly crumpled white lily, torn in places, that Volodya had gifted him. Volodya nodded and carefully placed the flower on top of the notebook.

“Is that everything?” asked Volodya quietly.

Yurka reflected – was that really everything? Was there perhaps still something else that he should leave there for safekeeping?

He shook his head.

“No, there’s something else.”

Yurka took hold of the pioneer’s neckerchief drawn tight around his neck and began to untie in fits and starts. His hands were trembling, and instead of loosening the knot, on the contrary, Yurka tightened it.

Volodya silently got closer and offered to help. Yurka said sadly:

“There’s an irony: when I was accepted into the pioneers, a Komsomolets tied my neckerchief. Now a Komsomolets is taking it off.”

The chill wind brushed his bare neck, making him shiver. Volodya was unsure of Yurka’s gesture:

“Are you sure you want to put this in the capsule?”

“Yes.”

“But your neckerchief only costs fifty-five copecks, and we agreed to only put our most valuable things in the capsule,” said Volodya spitefully.

“It used to be worth that, but not anymore.”

Volodya smiled and said in Yurka’s own words:

“Well I’ll be! And how much is your pioneer’s neckerchief worth now?”

“It’s priceless,” Yurka specified, seeing his sarcastic smirk. “No, not because it’s part of the red flag of Communism, but because it’s part of my childhood.”

“Will you help me?” asked Volodya.

He took Yurka’s hands and placed them on his neckerchief, neat and ironed, warmed by his body heat. Once both neckerchiefs had been taken off, Volodya tied the ends to each other. Yurka was silent. He guessed from the sturdy knot that Volodya had tied some personal meaning of his own into the gesture, but he did considered it unnecessary to ask exactly what it was.

Yurka sighed, placed the neckerchiefs in the capsule, closed it and said:

“It seems you really have grown up, Yura.”

The ground, damp after the rain, gave way easily and even the small child’s spade was able to dig a hole quickly. The capsule in the hole, Yurka watched the square metal lid be covered with clumps of earth. He realised too late that the well-wishes and addresses of the PUK girls and Mikha and Vanka were written on his neckerchief. But that thought slipped from his mind as quickly as it had come – it was utterly unimportant in that moment. Far more important was Volodya, who was carving something into the willow’s bark with a penknife, right above the spot where the capsule was buried. Yurka pointed the torch at the tree and saw in the circle of light a small, uneven inscription appear: ‘Y+V’.

Seeing those letters hurt, since, in only a few hours, that would be the only place where he and Volodya remained together, on the bark of that tree. In reality, they would go their separate ways, to separate cities, thousands of miles apart.

Yurka no longer cared what Volodya would think of him, or what he was afraid of. It was impossible for Yurka not to hug him. And he did: tightly, with no intention of letting go, even if the other tried to break it off. But Volodya did not push him away. On the contrary, it seemed he had been waiting for exactly this. He readily hugged him back, squeezing him close, and took a deep, uneven breath.

“Yur… How I’m going to miss you.”

Yurka wanted to ask him to be quiet, so as not to hear such heartrendingly sad words.

And why could they not remain there forever, under that willow tree? Why could he not hug Volodya forever, and breathe in his particular, deeply homely scent and never, ever split up?

Volodya fumbled with the edge of Yurka’s t-shirt as he hugged him. He stroked his back with his warm hands and sighed into his neck – Yurka squirmed from ticklishness. And then Volodya suddenly puckered his lips and kissed the hollow beneath his earlobe. Yurka flinched and recoiled from it. He remembered Volodya saying that he did not want all this contact and these caresses, yet here he was…

He took Volodya’s hands off of himself, sat down on the blanket, hugged his knees and rested his chin on them.

“Yur, what’s wrong?” Volodya sat next to him. “What did I do?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “Just… We have so little time left, and I don’t even know what I’m allowed to do with it. You forbid everything.”

Volodya shifted very close, slinging his arm around Yurka’s shoulder and pulling him to himself:

“And what do you want?” he whispered.

Yurka turned his head so that the tip of his nose rested against Volodya’s.

“To kiss you. May I?”

“You may.”

Volodya himself reduced the distance between them and planted a warm, tender kiss on Yurka’s lips. Yurka closed his eyes tight, found Volodya’s other hand and grasped it tightly, intertwining their fingers. It felt like if he let them go, if he allowed the kiss to end, then everything would end: his feelings would be extinguished, his heart would turn to stone, the air would grow thick and the world itself would stop turning.

But the kiss did not end. Volodya opened his lips and the kiss became soft and wet. Yurka also opened his mouth and exhaled – he wanted to smile. It was so sweet that all his unneeded, gloomy thoughts flew from his head in the blink of an eye. The sound of the water in the river, the rustle of the wind in the leaves and even the loud thumping of his own heart – it all grew quiet, ceased to exist. All that was left was that head-spinning, real kiss and the crystal-clear desire that resounded in his thoughts like a prayer – let it never end.

Yurka did not know when he found himself lying on the blanket, on his side. All he knew was that the kiss had come to a stop because a chill passed over his moist lips. He opened his eyes – Volodya was lying next to him, embracing him with one hand and looking into his face: at his cheeks, at his lips, in his eyes. It felt like Yurka had fallen asleep for some amount of time, but no, only a couple of minutes had passed. He had simply forgotten himself because it had been so good. He wanted more.

Volodya turned onto his back and looked up at the sky, while Yurka watched how the weak light gave a thin silver lining to his profile. Yurka moved closer. Volodya did not budge, he only sighed heavily. Then Yurka drew closer and closer until he was pressed fully up against his side. He wanted to ask permission to hug him, but then immediately castigated himself – to Hell with all that! As soon as the next day came, he would regret that he had not hugged him, and then it would be too late. To Hell with shyness and shame!

Yurka laid his head on Volodya’s shoulder and his hand on his chest, clenching and unclenching his fingers uncertainly. Volodya flinched.

“Yura, you’re too close.”

“Close to what?”

“To me.” He put his hand over Yurka’s, as though he wanted to take it away, but he rethought it and gave it a squeeze. “I like it a lot when you… We’ve had almost a whole month, yet we’ve not found the time to do anything. We’ve not even laid together like this before.”

“You wouldn’t have allowed anything anyway. But we still have today.”

Volodya turned his head slightly and buried his nose in his hair. He inhaled the scent. He lowered his hand, passed his fingers over his neck, behind his ear. Yurka gasped from pleasure. Volodya chuckled and whispered:

“You do like to be petted. It’s like you’re electrified: you just touch, and sparks fly.” He sighed and confessed: “I’m the same way…”

Yurka also wanted to touch him. Though he knew that Volodya would immediately resist, still he resolutely lifted the edge of his shirt up and touched his stomach with trembling fingers. Volodya twitched and chewed his lip.

“Don’t, Yur…” he protested listlessly, but he did not try and move his hand away.

Volodya’s skin was smooth and warm. Yurka thrilled as he cautiously stroked him with the very ends of his fingers.

“It’s like you’re afraid of me,” he smirked.

Volodya shook his head:

“I’m afraid of myself. You were wrong when you said I couldn’t overcome my fear and change. It’s actually extremely difficult for me to hold myself back from doing things that… that I would regret afterwards.”

“And why are you so sure that you’ll definitely regret it?”

“Because it’ll do you harm.”

“Here we go again! You’re gonna keep harping on about that, huh?” Yurka sat up and, looking indignantly down on him from above, said: “We have one hour left to be together, and all you’re thinking about is how you might do me wrong. But without it, I feel bad! I feel like a little longer and I’ll lose everything: you, me…” He caught his breath. “Volodya, at least just here and now, be how you want to be. For me. I want to remember you, special, the first, the best. And I want to be the same for you!”

Volodya stared at him, dumbfounded, his mouth slightly agape. He also sat up, propped up on his elbows.

“Yur– chka… Ahem–” he cleared his throat. “I’m such a pervert, that’s not at all what you’re thi–”[2]

“Yes, that, damn you! That’s what I’m talking about!” Yurka interrupted him. “Volodya, I’ve left too much at Lastochka–”

“I underst–”

“But I want to leave everything here!”

Volodya was staring at the ground, but after a minute’s silence, he gave him a searching look:

“Yur, this is forever, you know. You won’t be able to forget about it or take it back.”

“Why would I want to take it back? Why would I want to forget it? What is there to be afraid of? No-one will find out about this, after all. Only you and I will know: we had everything, and it was real. So that even in twenty years’ time, we can be sure that all this was real.”

“Yet another shared secret?”

“Not another – the only one. The biggest and most important.”

Volodya was silent for a minute: he searched Yurka’s face and eyes carefully, as though he were trying to find any doubt in them. But Yurka looked stubborn and resolute.

“Are you definitely sure, Yura? I… I’m… Listen, at any moment, you can tell me to stop and I will.”

“Alright.”

“Not ‘alright’, promise me that if you have start to have any second thoughts, even for a second, you’ll tell me.”

“I promise.”

“Close your eyes.”

Yurka obediently closed them. He fell quiet, expecting that Volodya would now touch him, but instead he pulled back. He heard some fumbling. Afraid of disrupting Volodya’s resolve, Yurka kept still with great effort, and hardly breathed. Volodya came close, squeezed his hand weakly and tenderly kissed his neck, barely brushing it with his lips. It felt ticklish again.

“Will it hurt?” Yurka suddenly blurted out.

Volodya chuckled.

“Not for you. I did say I wasn’t going to humiliate you.”

“Humiliate me?!” Yurka was enraged. “How can you say that? I love you, I’m ready for anything! I’ll kiss you from head to toe!”

Volodya laughed.

“Don’t you want to?” Yurka was confused. He was still in no hurry to open his eyes and could only guess his reaction. “Then I’ll do something else. I’ll do anything, only… I don’t know how to… Will you tell me?”

“My dear Yurochka.” A smile was audible in his voice. Volodya stroked his cheek and kissed him on the nose. “Let’s be that passionate our next time, shall we? In the meantime, just sit up. And help me a little.”

Volodya rummaged around in the rucksack again, and once he was done, returned to him and whispered:

“Can I kiss you again?”

“You don’t need to ask permission, Volod.”

“True…”

He set his lips to Yurka’s and this time, the kiss was not as long and tender as it had been a few minutes before, it was insistent and quick.

Volodya was utterly close and yet he did not push him away; on the contrary, he pressed in close. Yurka embraced him clumsily. It happened that he hiked his shirt up his back, but instead of pulling back down again, he bravely ran his palm over his shoulder blades. Volodya was hot. Burying his nose in the hollow of his collarbone, Yura drank deeply of his favourite smell, ecstatic. He dared to pucker his lips and kiss the exposed bit of skin somewhere by his jugular. Volodya flinched and sighed raggedly, and Yurka felt him dig his fingers in his hair.

“Volod, stop.” Yurka opened his eyes and looked up at him from below. He held out his hand and took his glasses off him without permission, placing them on the grass next to the blanket. Volodya squinted amusingly. “You look so vulnerable without them…”

“No, it’s because I’m with you.” He kissed him again and turned off the torch.

And for a few minutes, Yurka forgot who and where he was. He could not understand what he was feeling. It was simultaneously pleasant and strange, utterly unusual and unlike anything else. He remembered that he could say ‘stop’, but he kept silent. He did not want to stop; he did not even have the strength to do so.

Volodya kissed him – Yurka felt hot, but at the same time, his bare feet and ankles were covered in prickly goosebumps from the cold creeping up from the river.

He was tossed up and down. How easy it turned out to be to fly with Volodya so high that there was no oxygen and his head span. And it was just as easy to fall with him onto burning sands, or into boiling water and sink into it. It squeezed Yurka, strangled him, and let him go just as quickly; it felt like he was about to burst apart into pieces. His heart beat so loudly in his temples that nothing else was audible, but Yurka wanted to hear Volodya’s breathing, he wanted to know if it was just as strange for him. Simultaneously sweet and stuffy and burning-hot? And what could he do, Yurka? What did he need? He wanted to move, but he was afraid of ruining everything, of doing something wrong. He dared to clasp Volodya’s thighs and squeeze him as close as possible. And then he was completely lost in his own sensations, he forgot how to breathe, he went deaf from the thundering of his heart. When the sensation became unbearable, he feverishly whispered:

“Stop, stop.” Clearly it was so quiet that Volodya did not hear.

But suddenly he was let go. Yurka understood that there had been no need to ask him to stop.

Volodya went slack, while Yurka hugged him and pressed his forehead to his shoulder, listening to his noisy, heavy breathing. Volodya wanted to pull back, but Yurka embraced him even harder:

“Don’t go. Shall we sit around for a while longer?”

Volodya obeyed. He pressed his still very hot body up to him and gave him a peck on the earlobe – it still tickled Yurka, but it was nice.

They sat like that for a little while, motionless and silent. They began to freeze. Volodya moved apart and turned aside. Even though it was dark and there was nothing really to be seen, Yurka still felt uncomfortable. His cheeks burned; he was probably crimson all over from shame.

Volodya smoothed his shirt out in disgust.

“Is everything alright?” Yurka asked in a trembling voice.

“I’ve gotten it dirty.” Volodya turned around.

The pale moonlight came through the pine needles and fell on his face. Unusually cute, effete and abashed, he wiped his shirt and smiled. A blush played on his cheeks.

“If only all of life could be like that, huh?” asked Volodya quietly. Yurka nodded.

“You said next time. When will that be?”

“When we next meet. I’ll come to yours or you to mine. For a long time, for a whole summer.”

Yurka’s heart thumped as it filled with hope – Volodya had said it so confidently, without a shadow of a doubt.

“That would be great!” Yurka livened up. “I’ll wake you up with my piano playing, and you’ll keep losing your glasses.”

“But I always wear them and haven’t lost them for a long time now.” Volodya turned his head from side to side, squinting. He found his glasses laying on the grass, reached for them and put them on. With relief, he remarked: “They almost got squashed.”

“Just like I hadn’t played in a long time,” Yurka continued the conversation.

“But you will, won’t you?” Volodya asked and hugged him more affectionately than ever before. He wound a hand around his shoulder and idly stroked and squeezed his forearm.

“Ha! You won’t last three days then, much less a whole summer! You can’t even guess what torture it is to live in the same apartment as a musician. The music is constant, constant! And mind you, it’s not all beautiful, structured compositions, it’s looping, mistakes, sometimes the same part over and over again, or even the same note. And this is all loud, you hear it all round the apartment. No, you can’t imagine how hellish it is!”

Volodya smiled and suddenly took his glasses back off. He placed them on Yurka’s lap and, burying his face in his hair, whispered in his ear:

“Oh, it seems I’ve lost my glasses. You can’t imagine how hellish it is to live with someone who’s always losing their glasses!”

His breath made him feel hot again.

“I look for them for you.”

“And I’ll love your music.

“And I’ll love you…”

The ringing of the alarm tore them from their wonderful fantasy where they lived under one roof, where they woke up every morning, had breakfast, chatted, watched television, went for walk and were together all the time.

“What’s the time?”

“There’s still a little bit left to go,” sad Volodya and he turned off the alarm.

And there really was not much. They sat next to each other, in complete silence, unactive, simply enjoying their last moments together. However much Yurka wanted this ‘little bit’ to last longer, the time flew by too quickly.

The beeping of the watch stabbed his ears. Not only his ears, but his heart as well. For Volodya too, otherwise he would not have said, with tears in his voice:

“We came here to say goodbye.”

Nor would he have stood up and extended a hand to Yurka.

Yurka did not want to take it, but he took it. He got up.

They stood barefoot on the cold grass, facing each other. Yurka was frozen, limp, as though deprived of all emotion, thought and willpower. The sound of the river rang in his ears. Volodya stroked his cheek with one hand and squeezed his fingers tightly with the other.

If only I could see his eyes in this darkness, thought Yurka, and, as though hearing his wish, the moon came out from behind a cloud. But it did not get any brighter. The light from the thin crescent merely outlined the contours of his favourite face. Yurka strained his eyes – he needed to commit everything to memory: the images, the sounds, the smells, to remember them better than his own name. For many days or even years to come, they would become more important to him than his own name.

He engulfed Volodya in an embrace, clung to him, squeezed him close, adhered himself, took root. Volodya reciprocated.

“Goodbye, Yurochka, until we meet again, goodbye,” he whispered with warm lips.

Everything afterwards was hazy and insignificant.

Yurka did not know, he did not notice how many hours had passed, where he was or what he was doing, he was not cognisant. He remained back there, beneath the willow tree on that memorable, final night, holding Volodya in his embrace, feeling his warmth and breathing it in. But in the end, his final memory was neither the sound of his voice, nor his parting words, nor the rustling of the willow leaves; it was the picture in the window of the bus: Volodya’s arms waving, and behind him, sun, summer, the camp and red flags fluttering in the wind.

[1] In Russian, Yurka writes štoby ne slučilos’ ne poterjajte drug druga, roughly “so that it doesn’t happen don’t lose each other”, when it should be što by ni slučilos’, ne poterjajte drug druga.

[2] Trying to figure out what Volodya was going to say here is doing my head in and I’m still not sure I have it right. In Russian, he says Kakoj ja isporčennyj, sovsem ne o tom dum–, word-for-word “What a pervert I am/How perverted am I (isporčennyj means ruined, spoilt, degenerate, perverted), completely not about that think–” The problem is that while it’s clear that the verb is “to think”, he’s interrupted before he can supply the conjugation that would tell us who’s doing the thinking and how. Maybe he was going to say dumaju, so it would be “that’s not at all what I’m thinking”, but that doesn’t make sense because he thinks he’s a pervert, so he would be thinking about sex. Maybe he was going to say dumaješ’, so it would be “that’s not at all what you’re thinking”, like an affirmation to himself that Yurka doesn’t mean sex and it’s just his dirty mind, and now that I’ve sat and typed all this out, I’ve convinced myself that this is the right reading. My other thoughts were that it could have been dumaj, which would make it “don’t think about that at all/don’t give that any thought” which is something Volodya would say, or dumal, which would be ambiguous between “that’s not at all what you were thinking of/I was thinking of.” Or maybe I’m way overcomplicating this and some of these could be eliminated on grounds of it would sound too weird so he’s unlikely to have said it, but obviously I’m not a native speaker so I don’t have a good sense for which phrasings sound natural and which don’t.   

[projectbluearcadia]

Uh, My Existence Is Probably Treason...?

Solomon greets Annelie with sigils inscribed all over his clothing. 

Solomon: Did anyone follow you?

Annelie: No, but I’ve already gotten a missed call from Lucifer, and I imagine he’s stressing himself out to the max. 

Solomon: Good. 

I don’t think that’s good at all. 

Annelie: You said you would explain what was going on, so why am I the only one who left the house?

Solomon rifles around in his coat before he extracts a vial filled with Annelie’s blood. He unstops it. 

Annelie: What are you—

Solomon dumps her blood onto the ground, and a small rodent pops out of the ground to curiously sniff the blood before it suddenly makes a beeline for Annelie and tries desperately to crawl up her leg. 

Annelie: OW! Ow, sharp claws! Get off!

Annelie picks up the rodent and flings it away, only for it to come charging back. Solomon traps it in a jar with the soil the blood touched, and it claws at the glass while making harsh screeching noises. 

Solomon: Just as I thought...

Annelie: What? What’s just as you thought?

Solomon: Anne, you’re a ruling class succubus. 

Annelie: ...am I supposed to know what that means, or does that just mean I’m royal?

Solomon: No, I was just trying to figure out how to explain it politely. Succubus Blood Disease is one thing, but your particular brand of that is a lot worse. You throw people into extreme states of arousal, and one of three things will happen. 

Annelie: Which are?

That rodent... doesn’t look well. 

Solomon: The first is nothing. 

Annelie: O...kay?

Solomon: The second is death.

Annelie: Oh.

Solomon: And the third is submission.

Annelie: What?

The rodent stops scratching at the glass and flops over.

Solomon: The latter two outcomes are much more likely, but here’s how I believe it works. Suppose a Queen Succubus is fighting and is mortally injured. Magic and pheromones are released with the blood, and the enemy is inflicted with debilitating hypersensitivity. This disease saps at life force and sends it back to its magical origin until the Succubus forces it into dormancy. Absolute obedience is instilled, lest the disease progress further, and the Succubus gains a slave. The demon seeks life more than anything else, so they unconsciously try to—

Annelie: —make me force it into dormancy?

Solomon: Essentially, yes. I suspect the effect on Diavolo will be the worst, since he’s rarely exposed to you, and the reverse can probably be said for Lucifer. 

Annelie: Does that mean I can at least call him back? He’s probably having a meltdown. 

Solomon: Don’t let anyone hear your voice. Just text him. 

Annelie: ...fine. 

Annelie texts Lucifer and immediately gets a block of text back. 

Annelie: So... once they’re infected, I have to make them submit if I don’t want them to die?

Solomon: So it would seem. 

Annelie: And to make them submit, I have to have sex with them?

Solomon: That’s the most common magic release mechanism, from what I read.

Annelie: What kind of twisted asshole made up this broken mechanic?

Solomon: I think that would be you. 

Annelie: Sol, we only have so much flex tape, and we can’t use it to tape your mouth shut. 

Solomon laughs. 

Solomon: I think it’s okay. In any case, I’m going to go in there and see what I can figure out. 

Annelie: ...I feel like this was a complicated ruse for you to make a pact with Diavolo.

Solomon: I would never. 

Annelie: ...

Solomon: Ahaha. 

Lucifer: There you are. 

Lucifer wraps his arms around Annelie, startling her in the process. 

Solomon: Jesus christ, Lucifer, you smell like flowers. It almost makes my head hurt. 

Lucifer glares. 

Lucifer: I appreciate your help, but stay the hell away from my Annelie.

Solomon: I’m feeling some intense deja vu. 

Lucifer: Want me to break the cycle? 

Solomon: Considering it seems like you’re ready to throw down, I’ll pass. Haha...

Solomon passes them and enters the house. 

Annelie: Did anyone see you come out?

Lucifer: It doesn’t matter. 

Lucifer squeezes her closer.

Annelie: Lucifer, did you even read your texts?

Lucifer: I read them, and I don’t care. 

He bites her, and she gasps. 

Annelie: Oi!

Lucifer: You’re mine, and no one else will touch you. 

Lucifer drags her back inside the House of Lamentation.   

Haha. I’m going to die.

[horse-heaven]

kinda grateful that we’re off for obedience training this week bc I’ve got a lot to think about before we go back. our class on Wednesday was messy, to put it lightly, for a variety of reasons, including my own anxieties and frustrations, Roland reacting to my emotions, and the fact that it was storming outside, among other things, but I think another major factor was the instructor. so far, in the three weeks we’ve been doing this class, we’ve had three different instructors, which has been a bit chaotic but has worked for the most part. the instructor we had on Wednesday was the only one who I have not liked working with. I feel like she was far too impatient with Roland and I and didn’t give us much of a chance to work out any mistakes or work through our struggles, leaving me feeling like I was constantly struggling to keep up with the rest of the class. she said that she’s used to working with the more advanced classes, which might be part of why it felt like she wasn’t giving us much time to learn anything.

my current predicament is trying to figure out what to do next. I’m not sure if she’s going to be teaching our classes for the rest of the beginner class (I’m really hoping she isn’t, but idk), but if she is, it’s not going to be very encouraging to try to stick it out and finish. on the other hand, the beginners class is only for about 6 weeks, and then we could move up to the intermediate class. I’ve watched the intermediate classes and seen the instructors and the way they’ve been taught, and it seems like something Roland and I would both do well in. so im thinking i should just suck it up and stick it out and finish the beginners classes so we can move up. surely it can’t be that bad, right?

[notwantedonthemoon]

THE HANNAH RAMBLE

This rapidly spirals into me plotting fanfiction. PRELUDE:

Gotta be honest. Hannah completely blindsided me. Her character did not go the direction that I thought it was going to go.

When I was studying Not Wanted on the Voyage in class, she was given a super impressive introduction: “the most intelligent character in the cast” (which I will respectfully disagree with. I think it’s Crowe, because my love for that bird is immense and unending) and her scenes in book one were stellar. I am most fond of book one Hannah. She had poise and ambition, she was menacing and mysterious. I liked that! I liked that a lot! I think she has a future in politics or perhaps as an extremely cutthroat lawyer. Unfortunately her talents keep being wasted in middle management at Applebee’s (the Upper Decks).

I was envisioning her throwing a coup and taking Dr. Noyes’ place as the main antagonist of the book. I feel like she had potential to be an even more terrifying villain than Dr. Noyes because she’d not only be cruel and ruthless like him, but she’d be smart, too. Noah was kind of an idiot. 

The message that I was expecting from Hannah's coup is a commentary on how systemic issues by getting rid of the bad people in power; the entire structure that they were functioning under needs to be overhauled. I was expecting a story in which Noah was killed off and everyone breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that the root of evil was done with… only to discover that Noah was never the root of the evil in the first place, but rather, a product of it. His ideas are infectious; they didn’t start with him and they certainly won’t die with him. 

And now that he's dead, there are some people who are very interested in continuing his legacy. 

The environment that these characters were raised in is very, very flawed and we see a lot of what the culture expects from people very early on: formalities and borders are encouraged, power imbalances are essential for the structure of this society, obedience to one’s superiors is equivalent to love, differences should be eliminated, and questioning your superiors is dangerous and insulting. Noah is terrible and has committed so many atrocities that he should definitely be held accountable for, but I refuse to believe that there is anything inherently evil about him. I refuse to discount a character like him as ‘just a bad apple’ because people are products of their environment and these guys are living in a world that has a tendency to produce tyrants. You can’t say someone is ‘just a bad apple’ and ignore the same rotting barrel that all of them are showing up in and Not Wanted on the Voyage is very good at showing how all its characters are impacted by their environment

I think a lot of Noah’s strength as a character lies in his simplicity. I vaguely remember read an academic article somewhere that describes him as more like a force of nature or a strawman than an actual person, and I disagree. I think that he is painfully human. He doesn’t want to take any responsibility for his actions, because he doesn’t want to be the villain (no one does!) and he always has to be the victim. He throws his authority around and mistreats everyone around him because it feels good to be powerful and to get what you want. He’s so human and that makes him scarier because he’s the type of villain that you could realistically become by giving into your worst impulses.

I suppose that's why Mottyl was so tentative in calling him evil.

What I’m saying is: if it wasn’t Noah, it would have been someone else. Someone like him is inevitable (but so too are the people who stand up to him).

This world has a tendency to create tyrants and Hannah has been primed to be Noah’s replacement. Even the victim in a harmful system can internalize its values and they can end up becoming the perpetrator. We do see that with Hannah in the book (her treatment of Emma, for example), but on a much smaller scale than what I was expecting. 

But what exactly was I expecting?

THE PART WHERE I RAPIDLY SPIRAL INTO PLANNING FANFICTION:

I was expecting Noah to die somehow (don't think too hard about how, because I sure didn't), leaving behind a power vacuum that multiple candidates would be vying to fill aboard the ark.

There’d be Noah’s sons: Shem, who’s the oldest and should be expected to replace his father… actually who am I kidding, he’s not going to be involved in this. 

There’d be Japeth, who, at the core of his character, is scared; he learned, abruptly and in one of the most traumatizing ways possible, that powerful people can do whatever they want to you; but you know who never had to beg for his life and bend and bargain around the whims of stronger people? His father. If Japeth inherited that kind of power, he’d never have to be scared and powerless again. 

And then there’s Lucy; yes, she wants a better world for herself and her loved ones. Yes, she has good intentions and has always done what she thinks is right, but Lucy grew up in the trigger happy, might-makes-right culture of Heaven that produced her battle-obsessed brother. We already know that Lucy has a ruthless streak:

So I want to see how far she’d be willing to go to achieve her goals. I think Lucy should commit some murders, actually. I cannot believe that her kill count during the book is a solid zero.

Friendly reminder that Lucy is basically a disgraced war general from Heaven. She has canonically led armies. So why on earth is her kill count the same as Ham’s????

Is my frustration, perhaps, anything like what Lady Macbeth felt when she was trying to get her husband to commit regicide. Actually what I said about Lucy applies to Lady Macbeth too, I want Lady Macbeth to commit a murder or two.

And finally there's Hannah, who’s ambitious and clinical and calculating and wants to carry on Noah’s legacy not out of love or loyalty to him, but because she wants the respect she’s owed. She wants to have her words spoken and heard and appreciated, she wants to be Yaweh’s new prophet, she wants the security and prestige of Noah’s position. 

We'd be viewing this disaster of a succession crisis through Mrs Noyes and Mottyl's increasingly distressed narration.

Can I just say, though: Mottyl would make a fantastic diplomat. She’s comfortable talking with both humans and animals, she’s very frank but very considerate at the same time, and her greatest strength is making allies by being friendly and dependable. 

‘LOCAL NEWS. Exhausted 97-year-old mother of six desperately drafts peace treaty: more at nine. Also she’s a cat.’

I think it's clear you're screwed when all your hopes are riding on the negotiation skills of a 20-year-old cat.

Anyways, this entire plot was inspired by this song:

[sl-newsie]

Spelled (Carlos de Vil x Sanderson Daughter) Descendants 2- Ch. 10: Bunch of Hocus Pocus

The car ride back seems to go by twice as fast, and when we make it back to the dark alley I see Mal and Evie are awaiting our arrival.

“Good, you guys made it back ok! And… you brought Lonnie?”

“And Dude.” 

We all turn and look at the opened trunk. Behold, the tan mutt is a stow away!

“I told you to stay!” Carlos scolds him.

Dude scoffs and jumps out. “I flunked obedience class.”

“And he still talks.”

“You’re lucky I love you.” Carlos scoops up the naughty pup and we head off to join Evie and Mal at a drain pipe.

“This is a shortcut to the harbor. Are we ready? Let’s go!”

I see Lonnie looking around with wide eyes, and I remember she’s new to the Isle too.

“Just keep your head down and lay low. We’re already in enough trouble.”

She nods and we make our way down the dark pipe. Mal’s right, it is a shortcut! When we reach the end I can already hear the pirate gang’s laughter. I get a good look around and see a giant pirate ship surrounded by Uma’s crew. I also spot Ben tied up at the mast. I know we’re here to save him, but aside from that the ship does look impressive. Maybe becoming a pirate wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Hey guys! They’re here!” Gil announces.

The crew lets out a hearty laugh and looks down at us with an appetite for battle.

“Welcome!” Harry brandishes his hook.

“Finally!” Uma laughs. “Thought I’d never see you again, Sparky! Before we get started, I brought someone I thought you might like to see…”

She points over at some crates and a cloaked woman steps out. When she lifts her purple hood, we all gasp. Looking at her, one might say it’s as if I looked in a mirror. Same pale fair skin, same slim figure, same white-blonde hair.

“M- Mother?” I ask, petrified.

The one and only Sarah Sanderson, standing mere feet apart from me.

“Hello, Magica.” Her voice is eerily familiar, as well as her gentle smile. She always did have a nice smile. But I know better. A siren’s magic is extremely powerful. My mother’s supposed love for me could just as well be a spell luring me into a trap.

“You- You promised!” I snarl at Uma. “You promised you wouldn’t tell her I was here! Thou shalt regret thy betrayal, daughter of Ursula!”

Uma frowns and seems to get upset. “Hey, it ain’t my fault you’re still too dumb to run around with these goody-goodies. I can’t risk you helping them try to stop me, so I thought I’d set up a little Sanderson family reunion.”

“You’ve grown up so beautifully!” Mother walks closer and cautiously brings her arms out for a hug, but I lean away. “It’s so dreadfully wonderful to see you spreading wickedness with these children! And, now that thou art here, Aunt Winnie’s been dying to see you!” She tries to grab my hand but I flinch away.

“Mother, please leave me be! It’s been years since we’ve seen each other, so do not pretend to believe we have anything that resembles a relationship. Just because you’re my mother does not mean my life is based off of you!”

“I am your mother, thou does love me even if thou denies it.” She sighs and puts her hands on her hips. “Since thou choses to talk in such a manner, I shalt have to make thee comply.”

My eyes widen and I whip around to face the others. “Cover your ears!” I see Carlos is distracted with Dude, so I run over and cover his ears myself. But this leaves me vulnerable to what’s coming next.

“Come, little children,

I'll take thee away,

Into a land of enchantment.

Come, little children,

The time's come to play,

Here in my garden of magic.”

I feel my head start to get hazy and lose control of my own actions. Lowering my hands from Carlos, I turn and start following Mother away down the street despite my head screaming at me to stop.

“Come, little children,

I'll take thee away,

Into a land of enchantment.

Come, little children,

The time's come to play,

Here in my garden of magic.”

Mother keeps singing and takes my hand, as if I’m a fragile little girl. She leads me to the other side of the island, which appears to be occupied by more powerful villains.

“Hello Madame Hearts!” She waves at a black and red-haired lady who I think is the Queen of Hearts. “Hello Lord Hades! Hello Mother Gothel! Hello Yzma!”

Each villain passes by with an annoyed scowl on their faces. They’re just as annoyed with mom as I am. They still think Mother’s just a dumb blonde. And if I’m honest, a part of me thinks that too.

“Um… Mother? Where are we going-?”

“We are here!” Mother twirls and gestures to an old cottage perched on a hill near a graveyard. They really kept up the witch ambiance. “Go in, go in! Everyone’s waiting for us!”

Her siren spell’s starting to wear off, but I fight my instincts and decide to venture further. Inside I can hear hideous cackling and chanting, leaving me to guess that Aunt Winnie’s brewing something. But what?

“Go ahead, dear!” Mother ushers me through the door, then someone grabs my hand and I’m pulled into a dark-lit room filled with over-stacked spellbooks, jars of who-knows-what heinous ingredients, and a black cauldron glowing bright green.

After I’ve gotten my bearings, I find the hand’s owner is none other than my other aunt, Mary Sanderson.

“My my, if it isn’t little Magica!” She leans down and gives me a look-over. “You’re not so little anymore! Right, Winnie?”

Now I see the head Sanderson witch, the all-feared Winifred Sanderson, scanning over a spellbook. She looks up and sees me, her eyes dark and calculating.

“Ah, yes… My pretty little niece. How big thou hast grown. And with a little luck, thy power hast grown as well! Mary, the rope!”

Before I can ask what’s happening I’m dragged to a back room and bound with a black rope.

“Wait- No! What are you doing? Aunt Mary, please! What’s going on?!” I try to use my magic to burn through the rope but find it’s enchanted. I can't use any extreme magic, they’d try to take it away-

But it seems as if Aunt Winnie’s already figured that out.

“Stay still, girly!” She hurries up with a spellbook and tsks. “Curses! None of these second-rate books can compare to my very own! If only I could find it- but no matter!” She gives me a wicked smile. “Soon thy power will be mine!”

The blood drains from my face and I struggle harder. “W- Why? Why must thou be so evil?!”

This gets me a slap to the face and Aunt Winnie’s seething mad. “How dare thou speak against family! Thou truly art a betraying white witch! Abandoning us here on this dreadful Isle while thou hides in the woods with a spineless father!”

My temper ignites and I feel my hands start to glow hot. “Don’t you dare speak out against my father, Winifred Sanderson!”

But my sudden outrage only seems to amuse her. “Yes, yes! Release your power!” She flips the book open and starts chanting: “My blood is thy blood, thy magic is mine. Drain to me and combine!”

It’s as if an invisible magnet is pulling my magic away and I see purple sparks floating away to where Aunt Winnie waits with a vial. Then the pain starts to grow… And grow! Even Maleficent's magic never contained this agony!

My legs give away and buckle, leaving me kneeling on the ground and grunting in pain. I lift my tired eyes to look at Mother, who’s standing in the corner with an uncertain expression. 

“M- Mother, please!” I plea in a raspy voice. “If thou still holds any amount of love for me, please help me! I know you’re not just a dumb blonde! Don’t let her push you down- agh!”

And just like that, I feel all my magic drain away.

“Haha, yes! Just enough! Just enough magic to brew my potion!” My aunt squeals.

All my strength is gone and I’m left sprawled out on the wood floor. Potion?! 

“W- What potion?” I ask weakly.

“Yes, one that will give me just enough power to break free from this outlandish prison!” She carefully sets the vile into a rack and runs off to fetch more ingredients. 

“Wh- what’s going to happen to me?” 

“Don’t sorry, dear!” Mother comes over and helps sit me up. “You’ll be staying with us!”

My eyes widen. “M- My friends! They need me!”

“No no, dear. Thou is better off without friends. They will only slow you down.”

Aunt Mary hoffs and starts digging through a nearby fridge. “Sister Sarah, how dost thou know of such things? Thou hast special siren magic to have lots of friends!”

This makes Mother’s smile falter and she ignores my aunt to help me settle on the couch. I have a theory…

“Mother, I know what it’s like to be assumed as a dumb blonde. But I know you’re much smarter. I’ve found that you don’t have to be an outcast to have friends. I truly am sorry you’ve had to be trapped here, and I promise I will try to find a way for you to leave. As long as you try to be good. I have a friend who can help. But right now he needs my help. I don’t have time to be caught up in all this hocus pocus.”

She bites her lip and looks back and forth between me and where Aunt Winnie disappeared. “Mmm… I know, I know. I- I’ve really missed you, Magica.” She helps me stand up and gives me a soft hug. “Winnie was mad with me when I sent thee away, but I am so glad your father raised you to be so courageous. But all your magic is gone. It will be dangerous to join a battle without your powers.”

“It doesn’t matter. Magic or no magic, my friends need me. You’d do the same for Aunt Mary and Winnie.”

Mother thinks another moment, then seems to make up her mind. After untying my hands she appears to get an idea. “Ok- be right back!” She dashes off and quickly comes back with a scrap of paper. “Here- it’s not much, but it’s a clue I found that leads to Winnie’s spellbook back in Auradon. It went missing just before we were banished here.” 

I gingerly take the aged paper and frown. “But how will I-?”

“Shh! There’s no time!” Mother gets a worried look and frantically starts pushing me to the door. “One last thing: when you get back to the harbor, ask for Evangeline. Now go!”

She suits the door and I’m left only with a scrap of paper and a lead. Gotta scram before Aunt Winnie finds out I’m gone!

Using what little I remember from walking here, I make my way back to the harbor. Great, now where do I find this ‘Evangeline…?’

“Excuse me, you lost?”

I turn around and come to face an elderly lady huddling in a corner.

“Oh, yes ma’am. I’m trying to find someone called Evangeline?”

My outward manner surprises her and she smiles. “Normally people are appalled by my appearance. I thank you for your kindness. You do not seem like a villain descendant. Who are you?”

“Oh, um- just a stranger. In the end, aren’t we all? So where could I find her?”

“Right, right, let’s see… You’d find her over there.” The lady points to a multicolored building that appears to be a warehouse.

“Thank you, ma’am!”

Inside the warehouse it’s divided up into different rooms with curtains, almost like a pawn shop shopping mall. Now I just need to find-

“Magica?” A voice asks from behind a curtain. 

A teen who looks about my age steps out, and the first thing I notice is her emerald-green skin. After seeing all the colorful fashion styles the Isle has to offer I don’t think much of it, but I must admit it is rather eye-catching. Aside from that she’s wearing a pointed, ebony-colored hat, a unique accessory that also makes her stand out. Almost like mine. On top of that she’s wearing a green and silver sequin corset top and skirt with a design that’s also similar to mine.

I give her a skeptical look. “Who are you, might I ask?” 

She walks closer and squints as she gives me a look-over. “Hm… you’ve definitely got her looks…”

I raise my hand in caution and, with what little strength I have, toss some pathetic-looking sparks up to give a warning. “I’ll only ask one more time: who are you?”

The girl cackles. “You’ve got the temper too! Oh, that’s good!” She composes herself and looks me dead-on. “I’m Evangeline, daughter of Elphaba and Fiyero. I’m your distant cousin.”

My… My…?

“Cousin? I never knew I had a cousin,” I remark.

Evangeline chuckles. “Well you haven’t exactly been around to know, have you? Tell me, cousin, how’ve you enjoyed your little paradise in Auradon? Got to live in the lapse of luxury with fresh water, internet, and-” She looks hungrily at the pink sparks with a deadly stare. “Magic. How is it that you can do magic here?”

“I almost can’t. Good-old Aunt Winnie just drained my magic.” I grab her green wrist. “If you’re really my cousin, then we share the same blood. Sarah Sanderson’s magic runs through my veins, and as much as I try to be good I will always be a villain.”

Evangeline’s eyes soften. “You may be a Sanderson, but you still have heart. Let’s call a truce.” 

“Thanks, cousin. So if you’re Elphaba’s daughter, where is she?”

The green-skinned VK gets a distant look. “She’s not here. Her and father are still in Oz. I got captured when I was running an errand and was brought to the Isle. Green skin doesn’t exactly blend in, so they knew immediately I was a VK. So why did you come looking for me?”

My mind snaps back to my current predicament. “Um, to sum it up: my best friend Ben’s been captured by Uma, I have to help save him, and my power’s gone. If push comes to shove I won’t be much help in a fight, and I need your help to get my magic back.”

My explanation leaves my cousin with a surprised look. “Ben? As in King Ben? How in Auradon did you get mixed up with him?”

“Long story. Can you please help?”

“Depends. What is it?”

I bite my lip. As much as it pains me, I need to stop my family. “I- I need you to help me trap the Sandersons in a book. That way they won’t try to escape. We need to finish this bunch of hocus pocus once and for all.”

Evangaline scoffs. “And why should I do that? I don’t owe you anything.”

“It’s not about owing anyone anything. It’s about family. And we both know our family ties aren’t the greatest. Please, you must help! I can’t do it alone.”

She thinks for a moment, then starts walking back to the exit.

“Wait- where are you going?”

“Well we can’t fight evil from here, can we?”

My spirits threaten to lift. “You mean-?”

She smirks. “Yup. I’m in.”

We sneak back to the cottage, and I can already hear the angry banter going on inside.

“You- you just let her go? How did I get cursed with such idiot sisters?!”

“She’s my daughter, Winnie! I love her! I can’t let you hurt her anymore.”

We peek in the window and find my mother being slapped by Aunt Winnie. God, what have I caused?

Evangeline gives me a pitiful look. “Guess you made her mad, huh?”

I can’t answer. All I can focus on is the guilt churning in my stomach. My very existence causes conflict. I’ve tried so hard to show how I can be good, then tried to impress people with my power. But all that did was make them hate me even more, and made Aunt Winnie think she could take it for herself. Maybe I shouldn’t be so arrogant and flaunting?

I shake my head clear and try to think of what to do, then remember: A circle of salt can protect from witches’ spells.

“I have an idea. When I snap thrice, jump out and throw salt on them. As much as you can!”

She nods, cuing me to walk around to the back and find the kitchen window. Peering inside, I see- yes! The vial’s still there! Now I just need to…

As careful as possible, I climb through the cramped window and lower myself to the ground. Thankfully the 3 witches are still arguing in the living room. Once I’m inside, I quickly take the vial’s cork out and pour the purple essence over my head. I mustn't forget how humbling being powerless can be. A tingling sensation begins in my fingertips, then starts to grow throughout my veins. I can feel my power returning, but unfortunately I have little time for celebration.

“Girl! I smell a girl!” Aunt Mary chants from the other room.

The 3 Sandersons barge in, and when Aunt Winnie sees I’ve emptied her vial she screeches.

“Thou is such a stupid, reckless girl! I’ll have your guts for garters, wicked niece-!”

Before she finishes I snap 3 times, signaling Evangeline to bust through the door and throw a container of salt on them.

“You! The green imp of a witch! How dare thou-!”

But she can’t continue, because I’ve already snatched a nearby book and have begun chanting.

“Ancient evil get thee hence, only good can recompense for the misdeeds that you have done, witch return from whence you’ve come!”

My magic surrounds the 3 witches, causing them to start panicking.

“No- No! What dost thou think-!?” Aunt Winnie shrieks.

“Magica, what are you doing?” Mother asks anxiously as more purple sparks fly around them.

“I’m doing what’s right. Keeping you locked in this spellbook until you’re no longer a threat.” I bite my lip and dare to meet my mother’s saddened eyes. “I’m sorry, Mother. But you know I’ll never be evil like you, and I cannot allow you to spread your evil again.”

I expect her to yell and scold me, but she just nods. “I know, dear. Somehow… I knew you’d be the white witch to stop us. I love you.” She smiles and gives one last wave before I slam the book shut and trap them in, tears already streaming down my face. Goodbye, Mother.

Evangeline walks over and pulls me in for a soft hug, and we stay in silence for what seems like forever.

“That was a brave thing you did. It’s a heavy toll, having to do what’s best for your family.”

I hastily wipe my face and try to ignore the fact that I just banished my own mother into a spellbook.

“There’s- there’s no time- I need to go save Ben!” I race out the door, but then rethink my actions and turn back to her. “You don’t need to come with me. Y- You’ve done more than enough, and I will do everything I can to repay you once I’ve gotten out of here.”

Evangeline shakes her head. “Magica, I might have just met you, but you’re still family. You don’t owe me anything. The only thing I ask is to see my parents again. When you save him, please ask Ben if I can leave.”

I give a sincere nod. “You will leave this place, I promise. After seeing how other VKs here are so unhappy, I’ll speak to Ben personally.”

Now I just need to save him.

[wistfulwisp]

Now my thoughts for the ending of the second season of good omens, some thoughts on some of the theories that have cropped up:

-dudes this part is gonna be entirely incomprehensible

-what the HELL? What the hell

-I shall never emotionally recover from this

-I’ve thought about this for two months straight

-how can I quote this word for word but not remember anything from my classes at all

-…

Okay, so here’s the thing is that I can’t really say anything about this that hasn’t already been said, like yeah the acting is great, yeah the kiss is great, yeah the subtlety allows for ambiguity and I’m an absolute FAN of ambiguity, it’s all great. Yes, it’s tragic. But… it makes for a really great story!

I think that the way things went makes complete sense for both of these characters and fits their narrative and inner struggles entirely. It felt like being punched in the solar plexus (and again, and again, for two months now). Here’s my interpretation:

I think it’s entirely within Aziraphale’s character to say yes to an offer to become an archangel even if that means leaving Crowley behind. He’s a child! Of abuse! Of a long line of being told that being obedient to heaven is the only right way to go! He literally started CRYING at one single lie he told heaven earlier in the season, even though no one knew about it and it didn’t change the outcome of literally anything. Crowley also isn’t… particularly helpful in this journey A is going on to break away from heaven’s grasp. He challenges A for sure and gives him a pathway to continue down this breaking away, but Crowley has been anti-heaven and anti-hell from the beginning. Not that it’s been easy for him, but the point is that after being abandoned for so long A is being given a sliver of affection, and of course he’s gonna go back. Of course he’s gonna believe he can make a difference — Crowley’s shown him that there’s something on this planet worth protecting! That’s so howl-core of him babes!

Anyways. I’m gonna lose my mind. All I’m saying is that it says a lot about us, that we’d all so easily be attached to the coffee theory. It’s easier to accept that a beloved character is being brainwashed to perform some tragic act, and is more difficult to accept that it’s entirely within his character to do something like that. Almost like how A and C believe that love should be as easy as a Jane Austen-esque ball or a sudden rainstorm forcing people beneath a canopy? You know there’s no Richard Curtis films with that scenario right? 😂 sometimes it’s harder to accept that things are just complicated.

Now, the big thing I’ve seen portrayed as a response to this scene is “wow Crowley is really putting himself out there and he’s such a hero and like he’s really expressing his feelings and Aziraphale sucks because he’s just all gungho about going to heaven” listen! I love Crowley and seeing him almost cry made me want to bury myself alive. But! What he wants is a perfect world, where he and A can run off together without Heaven or Hell. Where would they go? For how long could they avoid being seen by either party? Legit not very long. Crowley’s perspective reminisces with us because it’s what we want to see happen, and in connecting with that sometimes we fail to realize that the world we want doesn’t exist! His solution is very much to run away from his issues — I mean, we’ve seen this exact same scenario twice now. The only difference is now, he’s running towards something, not away from it, and that connects with us more. Even if what he wants can’t exist without some sort of long-term plan that he doesn’t have.

My big interpretation of it is that 1. Aziraphale is going to Heaven because he believes in the world that Crowley formed for him: a world in shades of grey. I think he believes that he can change things from the inside out (I disagree with this as a viewer but whatever) because Crowley showed him that a world like that can exist. 2. I think he tried to convince Crowley to become an angel isn’t because he doesn’t like that he’s a demon BUT I think there’s a small part of him that believes that this is the only way they can be together. He’s a child of abuse! And he legit just talked about demons (generally not Crowley specifically) being the bad guys. I don’t think this is a huge factor, the BIGGER factor is because he LOVES Crowley and believes this is a way for them to continue to be together. 3. Crowley definitely interprets all of this as A would rather go to heaven than be with him. Like that’s where his line of trauma comes from! He was abandoned by everyone that he trusted (the almighty, angels in general, now Aziraphale) and now he’s kind of left to his own devices in a world that he only loved with Az. I don’t know what the future holds or what the exact intention was behind these moments but that’s how I interpret it.

Also all of the “he didn’t know he was starving” memes can go away quietly and let me weep. Imagine that but with Crowley being held or hugged by someone that loves him for the first time I can’t

[agentzedbooks]

And speaking on behalf of a group of people that the right specifically wants to NOT EXIST ANYMORE, and will do anything in their power to ensure we either don’t, or can’t, or will suffer immensely if we do continue to exist, voting against them is literally survival.

Let’s be clear on this.

The right believes in a hierarchy of people. They openly admit and celebrate this. Look at that hack job Jordan Peterson.

And of course, when anyone espouses a hierarchical social view, they put themselves at the top. Everyone else is below.

And if any “lesser” group somehow bubbles up close to their level, they go absolutely apeshit and will call out military force to strike them down with gleeeful viciousness. This is why the KKK, Nazi’s and other hate groups unanimously vote Republican and back them, and send money in whatever secret ways they can, or not so secret, since the mask has all but fallen off at this point.

When the redcaps talk about making America “great,” what they mean is, making it “great exclusively for them.”

That’s it. Queer, immigrant, black, or ethnic groups that exist outside of the “acceptable” class of people aren’t just dehumanized and demonized, they are specifically propped up as the enemy. This is why the right are bonkers about drag shows, making queer people into a hated enemy that needs to be defeated, which in their mind, means literally killed.

So while I get this analogy, and even agree with it, we can’t ever forget the underlying “if you don’t do this bare minimum thing, you will literally die” bottom line.

Not a single hour goes by where I don’t hear or see some truly hateful garbage coming out of the right wing that is designed to turn people into unthinking obedient killers of all the “lesser people.” It terrifies me to the point that I worked a job for someone like that for almost 5 years, and spent every day in horrible terror that they would find out, Fire me, or worse. I even pretended I had a boyfriend for like a couple months just to throw off suspicion, but I couldn’t keep the act up and had no phone pictures to back it up. I almost asked a couple friends to pose for me, but the shame I felt having to do that kept me feeling isolated and deeply alone.

And that’s how they want us.

Either fearfully compliant, or just gone from existence.

And the bitch of it is, this shit works on people who even think they’re allies. My last round of house hunting, one of the real estate agents was trying to steer me away from some properties because they said the neighborhood was “very family oriented,” and might not be a good fit for a single woman living on her own. Do you see it there? I’m lesser because I’m different. And this person had a Biden bumper sticker.

So yes, 1000% get out and vote against these evil monsters. I literally cannot stress enough how poisonous they are in every way, shape, and form. They came within inches of literally taking over, and if they weren’t, mercifully, all fucking morons, people like me would be looking at the very real possibility of being punished for just existing.

More than we already are.

I mean, fuck, I’ve gotten death threats from MAGA assholes for saying lesbians can be bimbos, too. This is not normal and we need to fight against this. Because they do, literally, want us dead.

Voting for Democrats is the "leaving the house, getting some exercise, and drinking more water is good for your mental health" of societal change. Everyone keeps telling you to do it, worst of all your mom keeps telling you to do it, and it's not a magical cure-all, but it actually works and rotting in your room shitposting does not help in either scenario.

[anonymousbutnott]

A year ago today, I had a breakdown at a party. I had a boyfriend at the time, and he couldn’t come with me. When I told my mom about him a couple months earlier, we agreed that I would ask her and my dad if we could do stuff together. But I hadn’t told my dad about him yet, so I couldn’t ask him if he could come that night. And watching everyone dancing, I felt… stupid, that I couldn’t share that with my boyfriend, because I felt too scared to tell my dad about him.

Despite telling them that I was bisexual the year before, and them pretty much accepting it, I wasn’t sure how much they would allow. Why did I think that? In this post, I’m going to talk about what I saw during my childhood and as I grew up, and see what made me this way.

When I was very little, I was a kid who would do something without thinking a lot of the time. I’m naturally very curious, but living in a small community where you can’t get anywhere without a car, I didn’t have much to see by myself. I tried to see what my (then) sisters did when I wasn’t around, but they didn’t take it too well. They constantly shut me out, or yelled at me to stop being nosy. Being the hardheaded, barely-conscious child that I was, I didn’t listen and demanded that I be included. It got to the point where, for a few years, we stopped talking to each other.

Eventually, I learned my lesson, and they opened up, so we pretty much got over it naturally. But I think I went in the opposite direction. I didn’t want to annoy them, so I avoided asking a lot about what they were doing or the things they were interested in. This spread to me becoming very quiet around the beginning of middle school. I had trouble making friends I didn’t know already, and I would only talk to people if they talked to me first.

Around this time, my older sister was a teenager, and boy, was she the complete opposite. She was very outgoing and loud, and she tried to assert her independence. Of course, a lot of the things she wanted were in conflict with my parents who wanted her to be safe, more responsible, and more obedient. I saw them get into giant fights with my parents about everything, her wanting to dye her hair, to go out with friends, to have a cell phone, a job, a boyfriend. To have a social life. My parents would push back, asking what would people say?! , or what about school?, or are you able to afford all this? She would tell them that it’s fine, everyone else is doing it, so why couldn’t she? Everyone would spriral into anger.

I would listen to this happen month after month, mortified by how they treated each other. So I internalized the message that if I wanted to avoid that, I shouldn’t do things that my parents didn’t like. I always did mostly well in school already, so just focus on that and everything would be fine. Who needed to go places every day anyways? I was scared of spending the night away with family anyway, no way I could do that alone.

Not only was I scared of asking for things, I stopped wanting things in case it would upset them. I only went out if it was related to school, like Beta conventions. (Anyone have those in your state? I got second place once and got the chance to go to nationals in the summer. Too bad it was in 2020 lol.) I made my parents happy with my academic achievements, and I was happy with them too. But outside of those, I barely paid attention to anything. I don’t remember so much stuff that I never thought of most of the stuff I described earlier. I had friends, but I barely remember what they’re like. I don’t remember what hobbies I had, any movies I saw, any music I heard throughout middle and early high school.

This eventually culminated in 2020-2021. That year, school was shut down, and for the end of 9th grade, we didn’t learn anything. In 10th grade, we had completely online classes, and I wasn’t prepared for it. It meant I had to try to teach myself everything, with little guidance from teachers’ videos and feedback comments, and I had to go at my own pace, which I never had to use in a classroom setting. This broke me. After a few weeks, I completely stopped trying, but I still had to pretend to be doing things so my parents wouldn’t catch on. I don’t remember anything significant about most of that year.

It took until March 2021 for the school to call my mom and ask us what I was doing. She confronted me about why I didn’t do any schoolwork for so long, to which I responded with “I don’t know”. I still don’t. Looking back, I have my guesses, but we’re still waiting on that. At the time, I just knew that school was becoming too hard, and I couldn’t continue being a star student, especially all by myself at home. But I couldn’t describe this, since I had a lot of trouble communicating my feelings.

I went back to school early, but I had trouble catching up on a full year of lost curriculum. All the way to graduation, I was never able to bring my grades back to the full A’s and B’s from 9th grade. I actually ended up failing most of the classes from the online semester since I didn’t do anything and gave no explanation to the teachers.

Then something really big happened that changed a lot about me. I started feeling sick in May, but my doctor said I was probably fine and couldn’t really diagnose me with anything since I couldn’t describe what I was feeling. My mom noticed that I was holding information back, and she told me that I needed to start learning how to communicate what I’m thinking, since I had to be able to talk to people to get around in the world. But I didn’t know how.

Throughout the summer, I felt more sick, and my head started getting cloudy. I don’t remember a lot of what I did that summer, again. But eventually, I ended up going through a medical emergency I’d rather not go into detail here. Thankfully, I was never close to dying, and the treatment and subsequent lifestyle change made me feel healthier than I have ever been in my entire life. And with that health came some mental clarity.

I finally saw that for so long I had been holding myself back so much that I had a dislike for trying anything new. The fact that I only wanted to eat macaroni and chicken nuggets and other such things for sixteen years of my life was what made me sick in the first place. But I also dismissed so much food I thought was gross or would make me sick that I love so much now. And of course, aside from that very literal perspective, I was holding myself back from doing things that I was scared would be dangerous or I wouldn’t like because I wanted to make everyone happy, that I was making myself unhappy. It would take a long time to unlearn these behaviors — in fact, I still have issues with them often, clearly — but now, I at least know that I have this tendency, and could try to push back against it if I feel ready to for a particular situation.

(I do want to mention that from that point forward, my family has been trying to get therapy, and because of specific circumstances with my siblings that I’m not getting into, they are getting therapy, but we’ve been having trouble getting anyone to call back for me. This is something my parents and I are working on.)

I also realized that I had been avoiding something pretty obvious for the past few years. After some reflection, I came to the conclusion that I was bisexual. This is something that I had troubles with before. My parents were religious, and around when I was 13, my sister came out to them as bisexual. My parents apparently dismissed this as another example of her following her friends too much. I, being the oblivious, barely-conscious child that I was, didn’t really even know what being gay was, or anything about sex and sexual feelings. But as I learned about queerness from my friends in middle school, and later on the internet, I became pretty much supportive.

I eventually started feeling things myself, but I noticed they were mainly towards guys. I completely shut those down and forced myself to be “into” girls. I kept my mind off it as much as I possibly could. Because of this, even when I had these feelings, it was impossible for me to think of myself as anything but a straight ally. But once I started letting myself experience things (and after learning more about the queer community itself), I subconsciously realized that I couldn’t ignore this forever. Consciously, I thought, “Oh wow, I like guys. That’s new. Must be my newly found health.”

With the support of my siblings, I came out as bi to my parents soon after, on September 2021. I do realize that that may seem very quick for coming out, especially with parents who may well have still been homophobic, but in my mind, I wanted to share my feelings, because they were more willing to listen to me and wanted me to improve. They were also starting to listen to my sister, so I was hoping they would try to reconcile with her.

We had about and hour talk, and this time, they were much more supportive with me. They said they want what will make me happy, and if it’s being bi, they were good with it. But they did ask if I knew for sure if I was bi (I didn’t lol). They said that I should try taking it slow. They noticed how much I’d started growing out of my shell, and they were proud of me, but I should still be careful, and not do something that I didn’t want to do or was worried about. There was still plenty of time to figure things out. At the end of the day, they loved me and always would. They just wanted to know I was alright.

So then, I came out to some of my friends, including my cousin, a girl I met in freshman year who was queer, and a guy who I’ve been friends with since elementary school who was queer. And then he decided to ask if we could date.

First of all, I was very shocked that he felt that way. I was very flattered, but I hadn’t though of him like that at all. I wasn’t sure if I could love him. Thankfully, I had an appointment the next day, so I was able to think thoroughly about whether I wanted to date him. First of all, he was one of my friends who I had known the longest, so even though there were some years we didn’t talk a lot, we knew each other well. We had great chemistry as friends, so it would be interesting to see how our relationship would evolve. This could be a way I could get closer to him. He could also be someone I could turn to when I was feeling down.

I still had the concern about whether I could handle a relationship on top of my schoolwork. Mom had said that I should take things slowly. Also, if I went into this, I didn’t want them to know for a while, and neither me or my friend could drive, so we couldn’t see each other outside of school. But at the same time, my parents were proud of me for doing things on my own. They also told me to not stress over school too much. Stress had also been a factor in my illness, and I could ask for help if I needed it. They also told me that as long as I was passing, I was doing well.

In the end, I decided that if I wanted to learn more about myself, doing this would be a good step in the right direction. It could also be something that I have to myself, that I didn’t need my parents’ approval for. So when I came back to school, I told my friend “Dating sounds like fun :)”. We exchanged numbers.

He was the sweetest person I’ve ever met. As friends, we liked to roast each other, making lots of jokes at each other and (mainly for him) other people. He was in particular was very sassy. But when we were dating, he was very kind and helpful. And touchy. As in, he liked physical touch. I was very new to this, so I was taking a while to get used to. Not to mention that I was still mostly closeted to everyone else, so I was paranoid about people seeing us together. Thankfully, I think he could sense this, so we came to the agreement that we would wait until I was ready to do things like hold hands in the halls.

We talked a lot through text. We were very flirty with each other, and we talked about our day. It took a while (I’m demiromantic, as I learned later on), but eventually I started having actual feelings toward him. He made me feel warm and fuzzy! That’s something I never knew was an actual thing! Around Christmas, I told him I was feeling a lot more secure in my sexuality, and I told him I was ready to be more visible with him, and tell others. We became boyfriends.

I still felt guilty that we couldn’t see each other, but he assured me he was happy to be together at school, and I did too. We liked to give each other gifts, and on Valentine’s Day, he gave me so much stuff that I didn’t know if I could carry it around school and to my house. I also told my (now) siblings about him around that time. Soon, the school got ready for the prom, and I wanted to take him.

I wanted to tell my parents if we could meet up. But for some reason, I got very nervous about telling them about him. It had been months since we had the discussion, but I don’t know if that was long enough for them to grow more supportive. I had to ask my siblings and cousin for help. I told my mom that I was taking a guy to the prom, and she said ok. But I completely froze when trying to tell Dad. At the end, Mom agreed to take me to the prom and wait for my friends to show up.

That night was the climax of our relationship. We had so much fun, taking pictures together and with friends. We even got two in the official prom collection, and I have them saved on an SD card. We danced, and at the end when we were waiting for my ride, we kissed for the first time under the crescent moon.

Summer came around soon after, which meant that we couldn’t see each other in person. My mom and I agreed that if we wanted to go to each other’s houses, she wanted me to tell her and Dad. I told my bf about this and that I was too scared about telling him. He was supportive and told me that he was there to comfort me in any way he could. Unfortunately, we slowly stopped communicating a lot. I also traveled a lot, both with my family and for extracurricular things. I still wanted to learn some things I missed out on two years earlier, and I was trying to figure out which college I wanted to go to.

One night, my family went to a quinceañera. It had been over two months since I’d seen him, and about a week since we had talked. I had wanted to bring him there, but I still hadn’t told my dad. As everyone started dancing, I started feeling horrible about it. I had grown so much the past year, and still I was scared. Scared of what was probably some invisible boogeyman who didn’t approve of me dating a guy. I ended up crying, and my cousin talked to me about it.

When we got home, she and my siblings told me that they were going to be there for me so I could tell Dad. I was shitting bricks, and stuttered through the words. He responded with saying that of course I could be with my boyfriend, and that he loved me just as before. Hearing him say that again, after all I did, meant everything.

The next day, my sister decided to get my mind off of it (and also celebrate my younger sibling’s birthday lol) by having a sleepover at her apartment. We got a cake, played with her roommates, and went to the beach. I felt like I could enjoy myself again, with or without my bf.

We ended up breaking up and deciding to remain friends a few months after. I really enjoyed the time we spent together, but senior year was very busy, and we had spent so much time away that summer that I had trouble reconnecting. Attraction is very fickle like that.

But now my family is closer than it’s ever been, and I’ve been trying to tell them how I feel more. I’m closer to my siblings than ever, and I’ve gotten over my heartbreak. There’s still a lot of stuff I have to work on, but for what it’s worth, I don’t have any regrets.

When I told Mom we broke up and we’re staying friends, she said she was glad that we did what we felt was right. She said that she would always be there for me if I wanted to talk, and she wanted me to feel happy, no matter what.

If you haven’t noticed, I’m not actually bi. I started identifying as gay earlier this year. But I haven’t told many people yet. So far it’s only been my siblings and cousin. I haven’t even told my friends. This is because I’m taking my mom’s advice more. The truth is that sexuality is so much more complicated than I had ever thought was possible. That’s why I only identify as such online. I’m like 95% sure I’m gay at this point. But it’s like Mom said, there’s no rush or time limit on your identity.

I’m trying to balance what my parents have said with my own beliefs. Getting into a relationship so soon after coming out was a rash decision, and even though it was the best thing to happen to me, I probably won’t do it again. I’m glad I did, though.

If I decide to continue identifying as gay, I’ll tell my parents eventually. But in any case, I feel ready to go out into the world as me.

Recounting all these memories was painful at times and beautiful at others. I don’t know if there are any messages to this, but I’m glad I took the very long time out of the day to reflect on this. And if you took the time out of your day to read this, thanks. It means a lot.

Also, make sure to tell my sibling happy early birthday! I’m sure random people’s wishes will mean a lot to them lol.

[scribeforchrist-blog]

Over Coming the Flow of Evil Words

Verse of the day

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+Proverbs 15:28  The heart of the godly thinks carefully before speaking; the mouth of the wicked overflows with evil words.

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Topic: Over Coming the Flow of Evil Words

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** SAY THIS BEFORE YOU READ; HERE’S SOME CHRISTIAN AFFIRMATION **

I AM ALLOWING THE HOLY SPIRIT TO FILTER ME

I AM GIVING CONTROL TO GOD

I AM CONFIDENT WITH GOD

I AM WORTHY

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Thoughts

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We must be careful what we say, how we respond to others, not just Christians but honestly all of us should; it should be an unspoken rule about how we address others; what you think is okay to say might not be okay for others, but what we tend to forget we all are different we can spend a whole lifetime building a friendship with someone. It would take us less than 5 minutes to destroy what was built over words passed between two people.

Today's verse says the godly thinks carefully before speaking; how often do you think about what you say before you say it? How often do you consider someone else’s feelings? Some of us have this it must be said motility but everything that we THINK should be said shouldn’t; I have had TONS, TONS of times I wanted to say whatever my thoughts were thinking, and the Holy Spirit had to say no, don’t, but we all have had those moments, but we can’t follow through with those words.

It also says that the wicked let their words overflow; we shouldn’t be like the wicked and allow our words to flow; we must have self-control and not say whatever we feel; a lot of times, we allow our emotions to conduct what we say and do, and we shouldn’t. Yes, God gave us those emotions but not for them to lead us on what to do. We should always allow the Holy Spirit to filter out what needs to be said or done and let him say what is good or bad because we are of the flesh; if we go by our standards, we will always be wrong if we aren’t entirely devoted to God.

“James 3:6 And among all the parts of the body, the tongue is a flame of fire. It is a whole world of wickedness, corrupting your entire body. It can set your whole life on fire, for it is set on fire by hell itself.”

In the book of James, it tells us the tongue is a flame of fire! And that it can corrupt your whole body if we allow it, and it can set our life on fire, it can destroy anything if we don’t get our words and thoughts under control; it’s just like children we must teach them what to do and what to say what is proper what isn’t, but if we just let them do and say what they want they will be out of control!

When we ALLOW THE HOLY SPIRIT TO BE ACTIVE in our lives, he will start to show us what we can’t say and what we shouldn’t do; it’s easy just doing what we like; it’s easy just allowing ourselves go, but true discipleship starts when we ask the Holy Spirit to discipline us and help us have self-control. When I was in the world, I did whatever I felt and said whatever I wanted because I didn’t care about having self-control, but now that I walk in the light, I want to try my best always to please God, our lives should always be for the pleasure of God, not for our chaos.

Verse 7 People can tame all kinds of animals, birds, reptiles, and fish, 8 but no one can tame the tongue. It is restless and evil, full of deadly poison”

It tells us here we CANT TAME IT; we won’t be able to; only God can; only when we submit our members to God can we tame everything else in this world, animals, birds, dogs, and fish. I remember when I first got my dog, I took her to these obedient classes, and she went for eight weeks, and they taught her how to sit and roll over and wait; she learned it in 8 weeks, but it takes us as humans a lifetime sometime to learn the simplest things and one of those things is submission to God and his will, why does it take us that long because we have our agenda and we refuse to listen to God!

Verse 9-10 Sometimes it praises our Lord and Father, and sometimes it curses those who have been made in the image of God. 10 And so blessing and cursing come pouring out of the same mouth. Surely, my brothers and sisters, this is not right! “

This is a great example of how we allow our mouths to do one thing and the next minute do something different. This isn’t right to cuss with this same tongue and then honor God; we have to start asking God to cleanse our hands, to cleanse our life, and allow our bodies to be a living sacrifice for him !! We can’t say we are his when we can’t sacrifice even the most minor things for him!

** Today, if you’re struggling not to say what you feel, ask God to help you! Ask God to help you gain self-control and to be what he needs you to be; a lot of times, we spend our prayer time asking and asking when we need to spend this time giving our members to him so that he may clean! Ask God what you are doing with your mouth that he doesn’t like, and he will cleanse you!

©Seer~ Prophetess Lee

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Prayer

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Heavenly Father, we thank you for another day we have never seen; we thank you for being what we need; Father, we ask you to help us control our worlds, help us to control our tongues; only you can do this; we can’t, we don’t. Lord, help us through every conversation, every rant, calm us down so that we may walk in the light. Father God, we ask you right now to come and cleanse us, come in and change everything that’s not of you; Father, we want to be able to praise you with a clean tongue, not a tongue that was used to harm, not a tongue that was used to destroy someone’s confidence, lord help us to give you everything and every part of ourselves in Jesus Name Amen

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Reference

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+Ecclesiastes 5:2 Be not rash with your mouth, nor let your heart be hasty to utter a word before God, for God is in heaven, and you are on earth. Therefore let your words be few

+Proverbs 29:11 A fool gives full vent to his spirit, but a wise man quietly holds it back

+Matthew 12:34 You brood of vipers! How can you speak good when you are evil? For out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks.

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Further Reading

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1 Kings 14:1-15:24

Acts 10:1-23

Psalm 133:1-21

Proverbs 17:7-8