#what the eff is an ask tag

[askcapital]

[ @ask-the-shiny-pokemons / @bluedoodles ]

[desceros]

fucking leo isn’t enough i need to peg him

anon-chan you are So Right, how does it feel to be the most correct person i've ever met

[kaisentine]

꒰ა ⠀ ⸺ 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 , 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮

⌗ ⸺ there isn’t anything more romantic than physical touch ! the question is : how does he like to do it? ft. michael kaiser, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, oliver aiku general cw. couple thingz that make me go EW!, language ( do u guys want me to tag this or no ), there are separate cws for each guy, not proofread . . . gn!reader ദ്ദി ( ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ ) sticky note. blushing giggling crying i���m not ok . . . the parts are wayyyyyyy shorter than i intended them to be, some men’s part are wayyyyyyyyyyyy shorter than the rest though but plez enjoy! 😭 this is part of my event check it out!

𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒾’𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 ! ♡

cw . slick back king, arlene still day dreaming about the idea of playing with her gorgalicious king’s hair

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑 should be cast in a movie because he’s really good at hiding how much he really likes when you do his hair.

if you would have to pick the one thing that annoys you the most, it would be how kaiser asks ( pleads ) you to do his hair for him only for him to say he hates it in the end. it’s never a 50/50 with this man because 100 out of 100 times, he will say that he hates the way you did his hair at the very end—he literally watched you through the mirror! why now?

“can you do my hair?” he yawns, handing you a couple of rubber bands and a comb.

biggest regret of his life—he ends up in the most slick backing slick back the world has ever seen. it’s kind of a feat of how flawless you did it but, “this really sucks.” he complains with his signature disgusted look, smoothening non-existent strands poking from his head. “yeah? too late. either you take it off or you train with it.” you smile with both hands on you hip in enthusiasm.

you hold back your laughter because you’ll piss him off even more and then you’ll never hear the end of it from him—as if you weren’t already. “out of everything, you choose an outrageous slick back?” he brings his middle finger and thumb to his nose bridge in disappointment.

“you asked me to do your hair,” you shrug, standing up from your position from behind kaiser. actually, you’re quite surprised how well he looks in a bun but you’re more surprised you can even put his hair in a bun because of how . . . exotic his hairstyle is.

he huffs in annoyance at your lack of sympathy.

“well i didn’t ask for you to make it hideous.”

so why didn’t he ask you to stop when you pulled out the gel? short answer : he likes your hands in his hair. long answer : that and how comforting it is. he’s convinced your fingertips are made of magic or something because of how good they feel anywhere on his head. it’s the way you occasionally have to tug a little harsher on his hair to make it stay in place, it makes him feel alive—even though you’re “responsible”, there is no malice behind your intent.

and he just loves you way too much to stop you until it’s too late.

“so are you gonna take it out or . . ?” you ask while walking over to the drawers to put the hair items back—showing him that you aren’t going to redo his hair even if he does take it out. he swears he feels his eye twitch.

“nah.”

he’d really like to but it’s not half bad. it’s a subtle reminder to him that you care. and he loves you way too much to do that. God, someone save this man from your magical hands.

sticky note. i cryryeyycryfyecyerycyrcyrycrycyeycrycry . . . guys what the eff!1!! ૮๑ˊᯅˋ๑ა I HAVE NEVER DONE A SLICK BACK

cw . rin and sae aren’t awkwad . . . brother things agenda, reader is shorter than sae

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄 makes it very clear he’s not fond of physical touch but that’s because he views it as something intimate. that’s why he doesn’t care when it comes to you.

everyone is convinced itoshi sae hates them when they first meet him because of how he pushes them away when they get too close. but for you, ask him to do it and he’ll do it.

it was only a simple slip up when you missed him even though he was right there—“can you hug me?”. much to your surprise, he actually turned around to face you. “what did you say?” he asks in amusement to your obvious embarrassment. “nothing . . ?” you hesitate, God, you’re bad at lying—sae can just see it in your eyes. “no, say it again.” “. . . can you hug me?” and just like that, his arms are around your neck, bringing your face closer to his chest. is there steam coming out of your ears? probably. is it for a good reason? yes.

everyday, you thank whoever prayed for you that day because now, you just have to ask and he’ll give it to you. “sae, can you hold my hand?” he’ll intertwine his hand with yours with firmness. “sae, will you kiss me?” of course he will, he always will. yes, while he needs to be prompted to do so, he has no problem in fulfilling the requests. the things that he does for you is uncanny to everybody else because, y’know . . . he’ll silently kill anybody that isn’t you if they even tried.

“you guys are gross!” rin looks like he’s about to hurl at the sight of sae kissing your cheek. you feel like your face is going to turn into a stove and your ears a boiling pot. “it’s not nice to sneak up on people.” sae rolls his eyes, pulling you closer to him whilst you hide your lips with your hand in humiliation.

“. . . i just wanted to ask where you put your training bag,” rin frowns—you feel bad for making the younger sad like that. “what about knocking?” sae is giving his brother the dirty look to which the raven-haired reciprocates, wiping his frown to scrunch his nose. “i didn’t know they were going to be here!” he exclaims, pointing directly at you—you feel betrayed! is he blaming you for his misfortunes? you no longer feel bad.

well . . . when that’s resolved you tell sae “let’s stop doing that . . .” you tense your face in internal cringe.

but not even 10 minutes later—he forces your head to rest on his shoulder—without prompting.

“don’t care. you’re the only person i’m willing to do this with, don’t interrupt it.” he grumbles—because you really are the only person he’s willing to hold.

sticky note. this man is definitely not fluent in physical touch but cut him some slack, yeah? my first draft of this was him and his lingering touches on your ass LMFAOO

cw . nothing . . ?, takes place when it’s cold or smthsmth

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍 ‘s actions speak louder than words, even if it’s not visible to others.

he isn’t good with his words. he isn’t good at loving. yet he still loves you.

there’s something in him that connects his view with affection to his brother—they both view as something not to be shared freely but to only be given to those who deserve it. lucky for you, rin sees you as someone who absolutely deserves it but nobody else deserves to see it.

not because he’s ashamed but because it’s supposed to be an intimate moment between partners that stays in between the two of them, that’s what he likes to think. ( oh, and the way he feels guilty for not expressing things verbally . . . )

times in the loudest of rooms where his teammates are annoying the shit out of him are times when he reaches under the table to hold your hand that’s rested on your lap. it’s obvious he’s seething by how tense his hands are.

“you good?” you whisper in the most subtle way possible. “. . .what does it look like?” he deadpans but gives you his answer after squeezing his palm impossibly closer to yours.

it’s comforting and not comforting by how unnervingly quiet he is—like he isn’t almost dead silent anyway, even with you. there’s a little voice in your head telling you that you should probably take him outside for a breather—nobody is bothering to converse with him anyway.

the air is cold and crisp outside, hitting your nostrils like a big ass truck but that isn’t on you mind. your eyes wander to rin’s red nose that probably got irritated by the cold too, then to how he subconsciously brings his collar up to try and cover half his face while his gaze is lingering off to the far distance, lastly how his hands get shoved right back into his front pockets.

“this better?” you ask, referring to the change of scenery and ambience compared to inside the building, his head nods slightly.

you smile.

and you aren’t looking at him anymore, joining him in looking in the distance. well, you and rin switch roles because now his eyes are on you and how your lips curl, only visible by the shitty lamp posts that line the darkened streets. he loves you so much he’s envious, he loves you so much he’s mad he can’t verbalize it nor is he really good at doing it physically either.

you’re really lukewarm, yet he hugs you when no one is looking—it’s feeling a lot warmer now.

sticky note. shoutout to @cup1ds-bow for this one . . . i’ll give you the biggest smooch to you celine . . . I HAD NO IDEAS FOR RIN

cw . this one is kinda gross help, biting, this stupidhead calls u babe ( blehhh ), this one is superrr short sorry

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈 is . . . an interesting character. you swear there’s something wrong with him when he playfully bites you.

you’re pretty sure there’s a mental hospital 20 minutes away from his apartment . . . maybe you’ll be able to sneak him in when he’s asleep—anything to stop these bites! what started off as a cute gesture for him to show affection to you soon became something more. you thought it was cute—in the beginning—playful nibbles on your lips, toothless chomps on your shoulder and arms . . . did you even know this guy when you suddenly got surprised when they started leaving tooth marks?

one thing about shidou is that he has quite the sharp canines, it’s no surprise you yelp out in surprise when he actually has the courage ( when does he not smh ) to test how sharp they really are. no, it’s not hard enough to draw blood—that isn’t his goal, surprisingly . . .

“what the fuck?!” you jump more in shock rather than pain. his grin goes from ear to ear, almost like he’s showing off the teeth he used to bite down on your arm. “sorry babe, did that hurt?” his says in faux worry, there’s a concerning drop in his tone. if you say no, he’ll continue to do it. if you say yes, he will also continue to do it.

“just shut up.” you roll your eyes. any answer other than yes or no will also lead to a path of him still doing it anyway. you’ll never win with him.

hell yeah you were right. there’s times where he sits next to you only to grip your arm to bring to his mouth to open and clamp down, it isn’t harsh but it’s more than enough to at least leave a mark in it’s way and maybe add another shade to your skin.

it’s totally fine though when he suddenly gains a degree in medicine and kisses it better, softer lips touching his newly-made bite-mark. it’s totally fine because he’s the artist and you’re his muse. it’s totally fine when his art supplies are completely free!

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 , the most unintentionally affectionate person. he doesn’t understand the butterflies in your stomach when he clumsily ( suffocates ) cuddles you.

you’re his personal pillow. it’s cute and endearing until he’s too lazy to walk to his bed and ends up crashing on you on the damn floor.

“sei . . . we need to get up.” you whine under him as his whole weight is pushed onto you on a cold hard floor with no cushion to soften the blow. you have no choice but to wrap your arms around his neck to stop yourself from suffocating. nagi is really warm with his baggy hoodie and his way too saggy sweatpants—seriously, how does he walk in those things? the soft fabric feels ticklish on your skin. God, please wake him up before we both end up sleeping on the floor tonight.

he’s just not letting it up, it feels like he just keeps getting heavier the more time that passes—and just the more impossible it feels to convince him to get off. it’s obvious he isn’t asleep just yet because if he was, you’d probably either be actually suffocating or maybe you’d be able to slip out of his grasp—oh and he’s literally looking straight at you with his chin rested on your chest. “t’lazy.” he mumbles in protest. honestly, you could laugh at this scene—not because you like being suffocated by your boyfriend but because the way your arms are wrapped around his neck make it look like you’re cradling just his head.

“don’t you wanna be comfortable on your bed?” you ask as another attempt to bribe him. you see the way his grey eyes keep staring at you with that stupid almost-pleading look that might say ‘please don’t tell me to move.’, but you’ll say it again because you doubt this is pleasant for him—it certainly isn’t for you. “please, seishiro . . .” you whisper, finger colliding with his soft snowy hair. his lips for a small pout at your insistence. “no.” he’s firm but obviously sleepy.

there’s something wrapping around your waist—his arms are wrapping around you waist. your eyes widen at the sudden grip.

“sei . . .”

“no more convincing. you’re more comfortable than my bed.” he says like he knows you’re going to propose another offer—which you weren’t . . . you wanted to tell him that you loved him but if just accepting defeat is enough for those three words, you’ll gladly lose.

“fine.”

because in the end, he’s the only one who can make you feel this way even when you’re pissed that you will have to sleep on the floor.

sticky note. i actually finished his part first LMFAO

cw . kissing, this man is a FREAK, . . . this is really . . . i put my emotion into this HLRPPP but it’s still short

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔 loves the way your lip balm tastes or he just really likes your lips.

“can you just admit you like kissing me?”

“what? your lip balm tastes really good today.” he acts oblivious to his own actions of smooshing your cheeks together to make you kiss him . . . the only thing on your lips is an unscented and unflavored lip product—what is he tasting?

you raise an eyebrow at his words, very interesting coming from a man like oliver aiku. he views such matters as casual, treats it like it’s casual, says it’s casual but then he acts like he becomes a new man every time his lips just slightly graze yours.

when he pulls away from your face, there’s something in his eyes that say he wants—needs more but he isn’t insatiable per se because he has self-control, he isn’t that reckless, y’know? have some faith in him!

but your lips make him question whether he even has faith in himself to keep him away that long, he’d be lying if he said you weren’t killing him right now.

his lips are prolonged against yours to make up for it.

aiku swears you lace something on—in?—somewhere on your lips that just gets him addicted. your lips don’t taste like anything yet they taste like everything he’s ever wanted—anything he’s ever craved of—they taste like you and maybe you’re all he’s ever dreamed of.

tags :) : @kenyuukissme @levihanmyotp @realmyth @vellichorira @pinkicyheart ( comment to be added! )

[urlonelystarrr]

pretty in red

ghostface x you

synopsis -> during a halloween festival, you catch the eye of a certain killer, pretending to be a scare actor.

tags/warnings -> public sex, killing, bondage, pussy fingering, a little knife play, a little cnc, oral!reader giving/receiving, ghostface is a little manipulative/violent, slapping, nipple sucking, body worship, ass eating, raw penetration, slight degrading, dirty talk, dom!ghostface, sub!reader, & kidnapping.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁

in the quiet town of woodsboro, people were hesitant when it came to halloween. maybe because of the murders in previous years, the ghostface costumes that were still sold in stores despite the tragedies surrounding them. but instead of mourning the losses this year, you and your friends had decided to go to a haunted house festival. people were starting to move on, they were bringing back trick or treating, pumpkin carving, the very essence of fall.

fall had always been your favorite season, it wasn't too hot or too cold, the scent of pumpkin spice, the desserts and baking, everything seemed perfect about the season. it's currently the early week of october and you want to spend it as much as you can, which is why you've dedicated the whole night before to getting ready, who knows, maybe you'll get lucky in a haunted house?

your phone rings in the other room, and you've just gotten out of the shower. the tiles feel cold against the bare underside of your foot, light taps following until you've reached your phone. "hello? hey girl, i just got out of the shower....yeah, yeah i'm about to get ready. i'm excited," you smile as the sound of sophia's voice flows out from your speaker, her excited pitch matching yours. she's been your best friend for the longest time, since elementary, probably.

"ohh my gosh, i don't know what the eff to wear!" her voice squeals, "am I going for a cute fall look, or scary halloween?" she asks, and you can already picture her holding up shirts in front of herself while she pouts in front of the mirror. "i'm going with...cute fall, since october just started," you say, setting your phone down on the vanity to put on victoria secret panties and a bra, you know, in case.

"girl you're so right, let me check pinterest," she says, murmuring to herself distractedly, as you put on your deodorant, your lotions and body oil. it's sacred to you, to take care of yourself. whatever you're going to wear - it's a little basic but it's cute, and you've spent the longest time figuring out what to wear. your clothes wait for you on your bed, but you throw on a old sleeping shirt so that your makeup doesn't get on it.

"hey are you still there?" sophia asks, the phone shuffling as she almost had forgotten that she called. you hum in response and she takes it as a sign to continue talking, "so listen...logan is coming with us, but in a different car. is that okay? and he's bringing a friend, uh, alex, yeah."

"sophia?" your voice raises a pitch, your eyes widening momentarily, the neutrogrena hydro boost sheet mask on your clean skin shifting along with your facial expression. "what?" her voice almost sounds panicked, but you're not freaking out that much, are you?

"that's lana's ex-boyfriend, and lana's not coming with us." you said into the phone, letting the mini pink standing fan blow over your face, your skin drinking up the mask's hydrating ingredients. sophia sounds dumbfounded, as if she doesn't understand how it might look, and she stutters, "i don't get it..."

"i mean, wouldn't it look weird to hang out with our friend's ex-boyfriend? and i heard he was such an asshole, i never knew what he looked like, but i hated him from how lana described him." you say, adjusting the mask on your face, peeling it into the correct position. your skin almost prickles from how chilly it is inside your room, the mask's cooling sensation washing over your skin in a refreshing way.

behind the phone sophia is choosing her outfit carefully, and she sighs. "ohmygosh," she says so fast that it's jumbled into one word, "you're totally right. maybe we should just jump him when we see him?" she asks. you laugh on the line, and see that the timer is almost up for your mask, only five seconds. you peel it off as you talk, "we should! but...another time. let's just...i don't know, ignore him." you sigh, tossing the dried out mask into the bin, starting to do your makeup. sophia paces around her room, almost overthinking the situation by a lot, "ignore him?! girl, im going into the haunted houses with logan!" she says, stressing about the situation. it's not that big of a deal, you think to yourself. surely it isn't. it won't be a problem, just ignore lana's ex.

whether or not you and sophia outwardly say it, you know about lana's tendency to overreact, or read deeply into situations. and so, your fingers move across your keyboard and you immediately text lana about who's coming and why, hoping to clear the air. she sounds normal, you think. and the sudden beep in the driveway alerts you that sophia's come. thankfully you've been getting ready at least three hours before it's time to meet at the hangout, and now you're finished. you walk out, and get into the car, sophia compliments your perfumes, you compliment her outfit, and she nearly cries and says she loves you.

it's beginning to get dark but barely, and shit, the haunted houses are a lot bigger than you've imagined. this place looked bigger than the reviews said, and they even have rides. suddenly you feel twice as excited, not only about rides and haunted houses, but masked men too? the thought disappears as fast as other thoughts come, and the sensation of sophia's hand squeezing yours gently, reassures you of a fun night. her expression lights up when she sees logan and alex waiting at the front gate, their wristbands already on. logan and alex are a tall pair, and logan has brown hair that's cut into a modern looking mullet, and he has on baggy jeans with converse shoes, and a hoodie on. his cross chain peeks out from the top of his hoodie. you think he looks basic, sophia thinks she's met her husband, but it's okay.

"hey guys," sophia says with a smile, purposely avoiding alex, a guy with darker hair than logan, cut into a short textured fringe with a fade, and he's wearing grey sweatpants and a black shirt, and a chain as well, and his shoes are black air force ones. he's also basic, in your eyes. but a part of you feels bad for thinking he looks good, but he has a cocky look on his face that's an ultimate turn off. logan is a nice guy and you don't have any issues with him, but he's too hyper for you, which is why he's perfect for sophia. logan immediately hugs sophia with a boyish grin on his face, and you smiled at how happy sophia looks. she's wearing doc martens and a pair of sheer black tights, and a black miniskirt and a cute sweater, and you forgot to include her cream colored leg warmers. logan pays for her ticket entry, and alex pays for yours, despite the amount of times that you've declined his offer.

and you're even more surprised when they buy fast pass tickets, which includes haunted houses and rides. it's not like it's an amusement park where the prices are ghastly, but $60 dollars sounds like a steal. you awkwardly thank him, and inwardly curse for staggering behind logan and sophia.

"look at 'em, they're already leaving us behind." his voice is smooth as he talks, and he looks over your appearance, subtly checking you out. you look cute, you have on fur boots, and low rise miss me jeans, and a zip up jacket that also has the same fur on the hood. "yeah, i figured that would happen." you say, trying to keep up with them. the first thing you guys do is go on rides, since it's still too bright for haunted houses just yet. you're at least thankful that sophia is willing to go on a few rides with you, and then you have to sit next to alex.

your attention is drawn when the four of you wait in line for a ride, which has a few people in front. you're focused on a certain guy, and immediately your heart starts to beat a little faster. a tall guy, obviously dressed as ghostface, can be seen scaring people and even kids, but he slowly turns his head to stare at you.

you're not in a fucking movie where time seems to stop, so you immediately look away and feel awkward for staring. as you and sophia talk again, logan and alex chuckle, and you follow their gazes and jump a tiny bit when ghostface is so close to you. the only thing separating you both is the metal gate, and his knife is raised menacingly. the eyeholes of his mask are so dark and you can tell that this mask isn't the shitty one you see in costume stores. it's well made, and part of you wonders if he can even see. almost sensing your attraction, the tip of his knife gently tilts your head up, and you look up at him, hearing them giggling behind you.

"your wristband," a hand taps your shoulder, and you see logan, sophia, and alex (the one who tapped you), all being let into the ride. you turn to see ghostface, half expecting him to see him disappear like in movies, but he remains still, watching as you go into the ride. the man scans your wrist and you take a seat next to alex. the ride was a tall one, it was almost built like a crane, that one ride you see that holds many people, swings back and forth and goes upside down. the overhead bar clamps down on your shoulders, and your feet dangle. surprisingly they play good music here, a lot of throwbacks, which you sing along to on the ride. alex notices and smiled and laughed, his foot grazing yours.

you're sure you've ridden all of the rides by now, skipping the baby ones, until logan begs to go on the bumper carts, which sophia feeds into. "i'm hungry," alex says, "y'all can go on the bumper carts or whatever, i can just grab us food." alex says, and logan and sophia agree since you all wanted food from the same place. you follow alex and the two of you wait in line, with the two of you memorizing their orders. "logan eats like a baby," alex laughs, seeing the text that logan sent him. you laugh along, "well, sophia's not too far off, i guess. but she's more open minded," you smile, spotting them in the distance, in the line together. "they really look like they're dating, i can't believe they're not." you say, sighing and looking over the menu.

"i know, logan needs to stop being a pussy and just get with her," alex said, looking at the menu. "what are you getting?" he asks, looking at you. "um...i want the steak bites," you said, and he seems to change his mind. "fuck, that sounds good. i'm not getting a burger then," he says, placing the order to the man. "and i'll get a strawberry funnel cake," you tell the man, he nods and you pay for your own food this time (and sophia's), and he covers himself and logan. by the time your food is done, logan and sophia are already headed back to the two of you, their eyes widening at the sight of the amount of food. "holy mukbang," logan says, sitting down and eating his fries and chicken tenders, and sophia eats the same thing. the four of you converse and laugh together, and you share your funnel cake with everyone, since it was bigger than you thought. alex takes his thumb and wipes the corner of your mouth, which makes you feel embarrassed, and you shove him away lightly. "don't do that," and he laughs at your expression. despite the amount of fun that you're having, moments come where you feel like alex is too flirty, and it makes your gut twist with guilt - lana.

alex seems to notice when you look away from him, or when you catch yourself engaging too freely with him. it's an uncomfortable conversation to have inside a haunted house, that even some scare actors refrain from popping out behind old wooden cabinets to scream in your face, it's painted faces that stare back at you as if they hesitate, the sound of alex growing annoyed. "why the fuck are you being weird?" he grumbles at you as the two of you walk, "im not weird...i just don't want you flirting with me," you say, an attempt to try to calm him down. "you're cool one second, and then the next you're like ignoring me, and yeah i am flirting but there's nothing wrong with that."

"i know-" you cut yourself off, seeing him in the distance, not fully but you see the sway of his robe behind him, decending boots going down the structure of the haunted house, behind curtains. "but lana's my friend, im not gonna flirt back with her ex-boyfriend," you say, your heart thumping just a bit harder. he nudged you with his shoulder to walk in front, "i don't get you," he says, his voice bordering on frustration. "if you want me to be honest i think you're really pretty and funny."

this feels like torture. it's so awkward and you don't know what to say or do. "i don't see you that way," your gaze pretends to look at the house and you realize that the two of you have strayed too far, it feels like you're taking the wrong path. there's not many actors, it's just a dark open space. "fuck, where's the exit?" you try to steer the conversation in a different direction, in hopes that it won't be so fucking awkward, and as you're trying to find a exit, you realize only too late that you've somehow separated from alex. is this good or bad? on one hand, it's not awkward, on the other, you're on your own in this maze of a haunted house, and the worst part seems to come up, as you stare into multiple reflections of yourself, and you're lost in a maze of mirrors. one thing is clear - movies are dramatic.

it's easy to find your way out, easier than you thought, as you look at the ground, indicators of corners, or where your reflection isn't dulled. a deep breath, then a muffled scream as a gloved hand clamps over your mouth, your eyes wide with terror. you shove whoever it is away, but your pounding heart calms when your eyes lock into the black eyeholes of a ghostface mask. it's all part of his act, his job. so why does the knife he's clutching look oddly real? and why does a hint of cologne churned with iron waft off of him? he's got you trapped, confused, and alone.

"can't run now, can ya?" his voice is rasp, the iconic deep murmur that can only belong to ghostface. you seem to be at a loss for words, your eyes wide as you look down at his black boots, footsteps imprinted into concrete floors, staining them red. your eyes follow the path, and you run past him. he doesn't flinch. he doesn't attempt to grab you as you run past, that confident that he can catch you. that he can outrun you, even if you've got a head start. you whimper and hide inside a fake bathroom, the area set up in fake blood and decorated well for the budget. you hide in a dark corner, covering your own mouth to shield any noises, and your eyes scan the area, seeing the under sole of black air force ones, and you creep towards it, walking and crouching. attached to that black shoe is a grey leg, the cotton of the sweatpants drenched in red, and you let out an ear piercing scream, the slashed throat of alex is a blatant slap to the face, there's no saving him.

and that guilt lingers behind as you sob and run away, your legs suddenly feeling shaky, you should've stayed with him. you should've-

it sounds like somebody's running, you turn around and you're so horrified by him running at you, that you seem to freeze, and every moment you've judged anyone for freezing up in horror movies, it all comes back to you. sometimes you're scared shitless that fear takes over you, and your body freezes in hopes that it will somehow camouflage you. but it feels like such a long gap that you freeze, only five seconds. five seconds too late, even though you start to run at full speed, his hand reaches the back of your shirt before your hand can reach the exit handle. "no, please!" you wail, his hand clamps over your mouth and you thrashed around and tried to run, but he was so fucking strong.

a grunt escapes his mouth as he knocks you out, bringing your body to a part of the haunted house that's unused.

sophia and logan have started to question why you and alex have been away for so long - and even though logan insists to sophia that you're okay, she doesn't believe him.

"fuck," ghostface mutters under the mask, hauling your body onto a large, stainless steel table. he restricts your hands and legs to the table, leaving you in just your bra and panties. the moment you wake up, your head throbs with a full pounding, and your eyes try to make out whatever is in the dark room.

you whimper, jerking your hands and feet to find that they're restricted, and a light overhead shines down on you. you wince and shut your eyes, letting out a small groan. his hand blocks the light out for you, letting you see him. "fucking finally." he grumbles, staring down at you, while you pitifully stare back up at him, with teary eyes and furrowed brows.

"don't beg me just yet." he murmurs into your ear, his fingers - gloved in leather, caress the column of your throat, reacting to you swallowing. you feel a chill climbing up your spine - and you can't tell if it's him or everything else. the chilly table underneath you, the fact you're fucking half naked. "beg you for what? to release me?" you ask, your voice as shaky as it was before.

"yeah, sweetheart. you're not leavin' me so soon," he cackles, finding amusement in your demise. the way your eyes water and your makeup runs, fuck it's so sexy. "who's alex? your boyfriend?" he suddenly asks, his hand squeezing your cheeks together. you shake your head, "no he's not! he's not even my friend but-"

"oh, doll." he scoffs, releasing your jaw. "he wanted you. that's why i had to do it." he says, as if it justified what he did.

"no you didn't," you sniffle again and your voice breaks. "why'd you kill him?" you say, your chest heaving and shuddering as you sob.

he watches you cry and shakes his head, chuckling darkly. "fuck baby, you're making me horny seeing you cry."

"fuck you!" you cried out, whimpering and thrashing, but all it ends up in is him slapping the shit out of you, making you quiet instantly.

his hands go down to his belt, his robe opening to let you see the black jeans he's wearing, gloved hands unbuckling the leather, and he ties it around your mouth as a temporary gag. you look at him, wide eyed as his hand reaches down and cups one of your tits, and you stay still. "fucking beautiful," he says, raspily. "you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen." a hand reaches for the knife holstered to his thigh. you should be disgusted. you should throw up and scream at him to stop, but something is oddly erotic about the situation. the way he's praising you...it makes you feel something, something you shouldn't. the tip of the blade traced your belly, his fingers gently squishing down into your stomach, before he reaches your panties. he doesn't focus on that part yet, instead he moves up and turns his mask to expose a jaw with a tiny bit of stubble, leaning down he kisses your cleavage.

"don't want me to stop, do you, doll?" he sounds like he's fucking smirking. you whimper in response and he opens the gag for you to speak. the way he's touching your body makes you feel oddly...worshipped. his touch is careful, in comparison to the way he touches other people.

your brows furrow. "you slapped me." you say, your cheek stinging red. "i did, didn't i?" he says, caressing your cheek. "sorry doll, I had to let you know who's in charge."

and for some reason, you're not bothered.

"look at this pretty little body," he murmurs, caressing the dip of your waist and the flare of your hip. "gonna make you feel so good baby, better than any guy you've been with."

you swallowed. "what makes you so sure, huh? you- you basically kidnapped me and tied me up." your heart beats faster when his hand squeezes your thigh. "you're a fucking killer, how would you even treat me better than any other guy?" your voice raises. you don't know why you're being defiant when deep down you like this game, it's always been a part of you that you forced yourself to bury deep down.

"cause you know id kill for you, doll." he leans down and kisses your stomach, and you have to force yourself to not make a sound. to not give into what he wants, he wants you to react, to submit. but he loves a brat. he loves someone who'll fight back the way you do.

his hands cup your tits again, relishing in the pretty leopard print bra you have on, with rhinestone straps and black lace decorating the cups. no matter what tit size you are, he fucking loves it. he grabs his knife again and presses the handle of it to your clothed pussy, making you gasp, as he kisses your cleavage, pulling your bra up to suck on one of the puffy peaks, forcing you to make a sound. "oh my god," you say in a slight whine, trying to press your thighs together, your head turning to the side as you gasp and shiver. he pulls away and unties your hands from the table, but they're still tied together. he's able to take off your bra by disconnecting the straps from the cups, and his mouth kisses and sucks on your tits, sucking on the soft fat, and then sucking a nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the bud, while the handle of the knife grinds into your pussy, wedged between pussy lips. you're a moaning mess and he fucking loves it. "good girl, that's a good fucking girl."

the front of your thong is pulled down, and he kisses your soft mound, the knife cutting away at the binds on your ankles, letting you spread your legs wider for him. he pushed your thighs up to your chest, peeling your panties off and keeping them in his pocket. "look at this," he purrs, "look at your pretty pussy, baby." he groans, leaning down and licking one of your pussy lips, before spreading you open and licking at your clit, sucking your soft folds into his mouth.

"please," you cry out, your hands tied. "stop this, we're in fucking public!" you say, trying to lift your head to look down at him. it feels so surreal, that ghostface is gonna fuck you in the backstage of a haunted house out in public. the bloodied corpse is in the back of your head, thoughts overrun with his tongue and lips, pleasuring you. he's so hungry, he's so horny for you that it makes you feel somewhat appreciated despite the situation, and the way he sucks and kisses you, it feels like he knows exactly what you want, what you need.

or maybe you've just been unaware of the eyes that watch you through your window whenever you masturbate, whenever your fingers are stuffed down your panties. the same panties he snatches from your laundry pile. the haunted festival isn't his first time seeing you. he'd been watching for months.

"n' im about to be fucking you in public," he mumbles into the wetness of your cunt, the shine coating his lips and chin. he gives one last eager suck, and one last eager lick up from your asshole to your clit. but once he tastes your ass, it was like he was going to stop, but ultimately decided against it. now his tongue is lapping at your asshole, and a gloved thumb is rubbing your clit, and a third stimulant is his other thumb, lightly fingering your pussy. it's too much, too much that your eyes roll back and you let out a pretty moan, and your back arches from the table, your body tensing before you cum, cumming hard. a few seconds after your orgasm he suckles hungrily onto the new wetness that leaks out of your pussy hole.

"holy fuck," he rasps, "look at'cha, making a mess all over my hands. dirty girl, ain't you?" he quickly takes his jeans off, showing off the large bulge in his black Calvin Klein boxers proudly. "dirty fuckin' slut, know you wan' suck my cock, don't you?" while you lay on the table for him, he takes a large step towards you, looming over your head. a gloved hand bunches your hair in a tight grip, while his other forces your mouth open, and he guides his pink tip towards your mouth, hissing when the warmth surrounds the tip of his cock. "fuck baby," he says between clenched teeth, "mouth's just as wet as this pretty pussy," he says and lightly smacks your pussy, which makes a wet squelching sound. you stare up into his mask, lightly moaning while providing him suction, your tongue wrapping around the wet tip, and his grip in your hair tightens. he could cum from just the sight of you, mouth sucking him up like an easy slut, your eyes glazed over with an expression that's begging for some dick in you. his grunts morph into a small, breathy groan, eyes rolling back behind the mask, he pulls out to get on the table, almost straddling your face while he fucks your mouth, holding your head in place while he thrusts his hips fowards.

"fuck, shit..." he grunts, keeping a hand next to your head, his breathing heavy. you eagerly suck, grunting and your brows furrow when his pace is too rapid. your thighs press together. "nuh-uh," he scolds, "no moving. lay there and suck my fucking cock."

the table creaks, and you suck him real good until he cums. he shoves his cock deep, squeezing your hair while emptying his balls in your mouth, with a throaty groan. his thighs nearly shake from the pleasure, but he's got high stamina.

in an instant you're flipped onto all fours, and he smacks your ass hard with his hand and smacks between your pussy lips, making you moan when his tip thwacks against your clit just right. "gonna fuck you so hard you can't remember your name," he mutters into your ear, positioning himself behind you, his cock teasing your cunt, your ass, anything he can drag and fuck. "fuck, baby, your pussy's so fucking tight. can't wait to ruin this little cunt." he grunts, and after teasing your hole with the head of his cock, he can finally slip inside of you, hissing at the feeling of you, so tight and fucking warm around him.

"fuck, please," you whimper, the side of your face pressed into the stainless steel table underneath you, the once cool metal now feeling warm from how long you've been laying there. he smacks your ass hard, "beg for my cock. you like that, don't you? having a killer's cock inside your pussy?" he taunts, wrapping your hand around a gloved fist, pulling your head back. "maybe ill slit your throat and fuck you at the same time. i bet you'd like that," he sneers, starting to thrust, after your begging. you can't believe this, can't believe you're enjoying it so much that your pussy sucks him in so good, drooling all over his veiny length, the tip of his cock almost kissing your warm insides. and you can't believe the words that come out of your mouth, out of pure humiliation and submission, he's got you wrapped around his cock.

your pants turn into moans, drool dribbling down the side of your mouth, like a fucked out slut that he loves. his thumb slides into your asshole, fingering it lightly while he fucks you, groaning with each thrust, each sound your pussy makes. "feels...s'good, please," you whine and beg, feeling it so fucking close that it's hard to keep your thighs spread like this. he had you on your side, in missionary, and he's now on the table with you, your legs pushed up to your chest, and him almost sumo squatting above you, pounding into your pussy. a slippery thumb lightly stroked your clit, rubbing in circles, trying not to slip off the wet nub. "you like that, baby? like the way I pound this little pussy?" he grunts, balls feeling hot as he pounds into your pussy, losing himself in the warmth. you're crying, and it makes him so fucking horny that he squeezes your throat, groaning as he fills your pussy with his cum, fucking it until your poor hole has no choice but to push it out, mingling with your own cum. your breath is a shuddering gasp, that only echoes in the empty haunted house.

you've been fucked so hard that the naturally dark room feels darker, parts of you suddenly remembering the fact that there's people, that you're in public and the memory makes you freeze, as he wipes your pussy down, half using his cum and something like a napkin, or a towel, you're not sure. the door jingles, an indication of another presence, forcing you to yank your clothes on, and he's right behind you, grinning behind his mask, his hands rubbing over your tits while you two hide inside of a closet, your breathing shuddering as you attempt to re-dress yourself in the tight space.

a flashlight illuminates the slightly wet stainless steel table, chains and cuffs laying around. the security guard moved on, the light emitting from the flashlight disappearing from your sight. you have no idea what to say to him, after he gave you dick that good? it's hard to really think, but then you feel the hardness of his mask gently dig into your shoulder, "don't worry. I'll find you." he says, low and throaty, a clear threat, or a promise of something more.

once you leave the haunted house, confused and fucked out of your mind, the coolness of autumn greets you, refreshing the sweat glistening skin, making you stagger to blot your face with napkins, that smell like fry oil and other things. sophia and logan are always in clear sight, the two of them sharing ice cream that could probably feed four but you don't judge. you run up to sophia and hug her tightly, your eyes suddenly feeling watery.

and he watches you from afar.

the bloodlust grows stronger, each day, each kill, each slash of the throat. he loves the way you pretend to act innocent and unaware, the look of doubt in your gaze when questioned about alex's disappearance. the twitch of your fingers when you play with your clothes. he enjoys it all. and he knows he's got you, encasing you in webs, making sure you never leave, like the perfect meal made just for him. you can't get rid of him.

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authors note: hey so.....I know I said I'd post this by Halloween. I lied. I'm actually so grateful for everyone that likes my posts, even though I'm a liar and a lazy writer sometimes </3 and I would say that I've been busy with school, and I have been, but I did have a lot of free time which I spent playing Roblox on :D it's hard to write sometimes. You don't feel as motivated as you used to, but whenever y'all hype me up it makes me want to write more, and like I said, I'm going to be doing newer characters (cod & maybe tlou) and I'm really sorry but I'm out of my anime phase (I have been out of it since a few years ago...). But I hope you freaks enjoy this one !

[nylaboon]

can you do rodrick heffley x gn reader who is also in a band and is the drummer ? maybe like an enemies/rivals to lovers situation idk

You and I — Rodrick Heffley

"Without you there is no reason for my story / And when I'm with you I can always act the same / Forever, yeah, if we're together / We can make it better"

— in which your rivalry finally concludes.

rodrick heffley x gn!reader

tags: rivals to lovers, not proof-read, kinda rushed at the end

notes: bless your soul for requesting this, i had literally so much fun writing it <33 i also took inspiration from lemonade mouth for the setting, which is a fuckin banger movie

Like a coyote and a lamb. Like a predator and its prey. He was always there—watching. Waiting for the moment you slipped up. At least, that was his excuse. Whenever someone asked, "hey Rodrick, if you hate y/n so much, why are you always showing up to their band's gigs?" he'd always say the same thing.

He craved your embarrassment. It's always been that way.

You had a better reputation. Despite your band being as popular as his (so not very), people never criticized it because your music was decent. And you—in his eyes—were perfect. You were everything he sometimes wished he was. You had what he wanted. Even if what you had wasn't much to be proud of, he still wanted it. Rodrick Heffley was jealous of you. Of the way people looked at you and not him. So, to see him sitting at a table all alone, staring right at you; not trying to be subtle in the slightest. It wasn't surprising, and it definitely wasn't new. In fact, you'd be shocked if he missed any of your gigs.

You were playing at a pizza joint, which was probably not the ideal place for a rock band to play, but your group was taking whatever they could get. A gig is a gig and publicity is publicity. It was a win-win in your book. Aside from Rodrick's envious glare from across the room, it was a good night.

Until after you guys played, at least. See, there were four of you. Ryan, the lead guitarist. Courtney, the vocalist. Owen, the bassist. And you, the drummer. All four of you were equally a mess. A very unorganized mess.

After playing, you treated yourselves to pizza and refreshments to celebrate a good night. The thing was that Courtney and Ryan were dating, and they weren't uncomfortable with the concept of PDA. Fortunately for Owen, his mom picked him up early. You, however, were not lucky, meaning that after taking a moment in the bathroom, you came back to see the booth you were sitting at empty, aside from the leftover food.

You knew Ryan and Courtney long enough to know what happened. They were either making out in the backseat of his car, or they left the property completely and drove back to one of their houses to make out. And considering the fact that Ryan was the one who picked you up, you were completely fucked. Your dad's car was stuck at a repair shop and your mom had no clue how to drive. You couldn't even catch an Uber because you were broke as hell.

Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was the universe being your number one hater.

One thing led to another and now you're sitting in the passenger seat of Rodrick's van, holding onto the grab handle for dear life as he sped down the street. Your drum set slid around the back of the van, taking hard hits every time he took a sharp turn. If he kept this up any longer, you'd probably get carsick.

"For the love of all things holy, slow down!" You desperately yelled over the sound of the engine purring. He gave you an unimpressed look before sighing and slamming his foot onto the brake, making the car come to a sudden stop. You almost flew out of your seat from the impact.

"Of course," he began, "leave it to y/n to ruin the fun." You brushed your hair out of your face and sent a glare his way.

"I'm sooo sorry for worrying about our safety," you shot back sarcastically. "Could you maybe try to drive like a normal person, for a change?" He glanced out his car window and smirked, pretending to put effort into considering your request.

"Huh, let me think about it... No." His smirk dropped and was replaced with his usual look of displeasure. You scoffed and threw your head back against the headrest in defeat. You should've known asking him such a thing would be a waste of breath. It's not like this was your first time driving with him. Every time you asked for him to slow down, he just ignored you; pretending that he couldn't hear you basically screaming over the engine. But for some reason, he didn't do that this time...

When he started driving again, he only went two miles over the speed limit instead of the usual twenty-plus. He was listening to you, and it was weird. Not that you hated it. Much like any normal person, you were quite grateful that your life wasn't currently on the line because of an idiot of a driver. It didn't even make sense for him to have a driver's license.

At least, you assumed he had one.

Thanks to the speed he was going, you managed to calm your racing heart and relax your muscles. You let go of the grab handle and let your hands fall to your lap. A beat of silence passed as Rodrick focused on the road.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" You asked, referring to the gig. The boy beside you didn't spare you a glance, keeping his eyes focused on the road in the meantime.

"Do you even have to ask?"

"Y'know, you usually say no, but I saw you bopping your head a few times." In response to your comment, he slammed the brakes a second time, causing your body to fly forward aggressively. You cursed under your breath and rubbed the back of your head to soothe the pain from banging into the headrest.

He, however, was unfazed and proceeded to drive. "Can it, asswipe." But you could see the hint of a smile creeping up on the corner of his lips. You rolled your eyes and rested your head against the car door window. "Why are you so..."

"So?"

"...I don't know. Why do you hate me so much?" It's not like you ever did anything to hurt him. When you first met, you tried to be nothing but kind to him. Yet, ever since he found out about your little talent, he made his strong disdain for you clearer than glass. "It's like you enjoy being confusing."

He hesitated, debating on whether to answer your question or leave you guessing. On one hand, he didn't feel like having this conversation with you, but on the other, he knew that you wouldn't take the latter for an answer.

"I don't hate you. What makes you say that?" He asked innocently, trying his best to walk around your question. You gave him a look of disbelief and sneered at his utter bullshit lie.

"You don't hate me? Yeah okay, that explains why you're always glaring at me at every chance you get. Why you always mock me whenever I say literally anything. Why you try to get in crashes every time you drive me home."

"To be fair, I always drive like that," he spoke in defense. "And I don't glare at you all the time."

"Then what—the hell—were you doing while I was playing?"

"Inspecting you." You rolled your eyes for what had to have been the hundredth time that night. Of course he wasn't holding himself accountable; why would he? He didn't owe you anything, and you never expected any less. "You're not special, y/n. Are you that self-centered that you think I have a problem with you?"

That question angered you. He was obviously trying to get under your skin, and by God, it was working. "I'm not self-centered, dipshit. I'm observant. So now that we're alone, you might as well tell me what your problem is, Rodrick."

For the second time, he was silenced. But it only lasted for a little while. Contrary to the stern look on his face, his voice was soft. "I don't hate you, y/n," he reiterated. "You're just... I don't know how to feel about you."

It was like a never-ending battle with himself. He wanted to hate you, but he couldn't. He had no valid reason to. You were nice to him no matter how many times he chose to be a dick to you. He wasn't confusing, Rodrick thought. You were confusing. Why were you so nice to him? He never deserved it. How long would it take for your patience to finally run low? Yeah, you were doing better than him in terms of social hierarchy, but you had no control over people liking you. And that answered a question for him so flawlessly: if you weren't in the picture, would anything change? Would he have the spotlight?

The answer was short, but far from sweet. Nothing would change. He'd still be the Rodrick that everyone knew and hated. You were a naturally likable person, while he was the odd one out. If he was to hate anyone, it should've been himself.

"You annoy the hell out of me and you don't even have to try." It was absurd. "You make me think about how much of an asshole I am, and I hate thinking about my actions." You held back a laugh but allowed a smile to fall upon your face.

He continued his rant. "I guess what I'm thinking is that you're a perfect example of who people want me to be. And with you being a drummer as well, it's just even more annoying. Like a comparison for everyone to see." It was like he was in your shadow, and you weren't even aware of it.

You took a deep breath and let the air escape through your nose. His words were a lot to take in, and you weren't expecting such hard-hitting reasoning from such a dull guy. Then again, you always knew he didn't apply his full potential in certain situations, so it was hard to tell with him. "Rodrick," you started, your voice soft and understanding, "I'm not all that great, and I really hope you know that. Don't beat yourself up just because I'm too much of a coward to be mean to people."

He raised an eyebrow at your words, urging you to keep talking. You complied. "The only reason why I'm not going around cursing people out is because I'm actually trying to not get my ass beat. I don't like everyone—hell, I barely like anyone at that fucked up school. But that's what differentiates us. I'm a coward and you're not."

You spoke with full sincerity and vulnerability. You were opening up to him. "It's not like I'm a perfect angel or something. I'm just a pussy. And sometimes I wish I were as confident as you are."

The only reason why you were a sweetheart to everyone was to avoid conflict. Rodrick bit his bottom lip as he listened to you. "So you just let people walk all over you? Seriously?"

"That's the only reason so many people like me," you answered. "People don't care about you being nice. It's all about whether you're a doormat or not." You unfortunately had a point. People only came to you when they needed something. "You aren't a doormat and you're not afraid to be yourself. That's why people hate you."

"So you shouldn't hate me, or whatever the case is," you explained. "Because, truth be told, you're better than me."

That last sentence was enough to make him do a double-take. At first, he was surprised at your admission, but now he was laughing. You furrowed your eyebrows, assuming that he wasn't taking your heartfelt commentary seriously. "What's so funny?"

Rodrick shook his head as he continued to snicker. "Man, I never thought I'd live to see the day you'd admit that I'm better than you." He hit your shoulder playfully with the back of his free hand, completely ignoring your semi-annoyed expression.

"Rodrick, I'm being serious."

"I know that. That's what makes it hilarious." Eventually, his van drove up to a red light and came to a stop. He rubbed his face with his hands and let out one last airy laugh. "Shit, y/n..."

You glared at him for a few more seconds before staring down at your lap. A smile slowly forced its way onto your face. You wanted to laugh because of him. He was so childish...

"I really couldn't hate you if I wanted to," he confessed. "Thanks for the compliment though, dork."

You didn't think much of his comment. Instead, you enjoyed the one rare time you and him weren't trying to strangle each other. Not like you ever hated it. It was more entertaining than anything, and you looked forward to it most days. Sometimes, the insults he called you were a little too funny to ruin your day. Now that you thought about it, Rodrick never did offend you. You liked your stupid little rivalry.

...huh.

"...I don't hate you either," you muttered awkwardly. "In case you're wondering."

"I knew that, but I never understood why." You simply shrugged and watched the cars beside you begin to move once the light turned green again.

"You never gave me a reason to. I mean, I never really took your insults seriously." You didn't need to look at him to know that he was unsure about what you were saying. "You're not as intimidating as you think you are. Far from it actually."

"Oh really? Then what am I to you?" He asked. You could've sworn there was some sort of smug aura to him. "What do you want to be?" You questioned. He shook his head with his signature smile, refusing to answer your question. He wasn't smiling out of joy, he was smiling out of uneasiness. "That's a stupid question to ask."

"Why are you avoiding it?"

"Because it's stupid."

"You basically asked me the same thing!"

"Yet you never answered me." He got you there. But you weren't sure how to answer the question. It was like trying to take a shot at someone in the dark. What was Rodrick to you? You were never sure if you could consider him a friend, but he wasn't your enemy as far as you were concerned.

"I don't know what you are to me," you answered truthfully. "Seriously, we have, like, a love-hate relationship or something... Not that I can even call it that since I don't hate you. So, I don't know."

You turned to him and stared at him with your curious eyes. "Now answer my question."

As you said that, he pulled into the driveway of your house. He pulled his hand away from the steering wheel and folded his arms against his chest. He looked down at his lap, much like what you did whenever you got nervous or annoyed. "Alright, I'll be real with you."

"It wouldn't, like, suck if I was, like, yours, or something." You paused. Actually, it felt like the whole world paused at that moment. Rodrick Heffley, that demon of a boy, liked you. You weren't embarrassed. You were shocked. Mainly because all of that tormenting he did was just an act, and that was a little hard to believe. But it all made sense once you remembered what he told you.

He couldn't hate you if he wanted to.

Once the shock finally cleared, you grinned and scratched at your neck anxiously. "Oh yeah? That's how you feel?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" You rolled your eyes and unbuckled your seatbelt before opening the door and climbing out of his van. "Come help me." Rodrick let out a groan that was mixed with both annoyance and fear. Fear that you would make fun of him for thinking of you in such a way. He got out on his side and sluggishly walked to the back of the van to help you carry your drum set to your garage.

"Y'know, you can just hurry up and hit me with the 'ew no, don't ever talk to me again'," he offered. "It wouldn't be the first time I heard it."

"What makes you think I'd say that?" You inquired. He let out a scoff. "Why wouldn't you?" It would make more sense if you did.

You both stayed silent as you brought your equipment back to your garage. When you finished, Rodrick began to walk back to his van. But you stopped him before he could get back in.

"Hey, Rod?" He hummed and turned around to face you. You walked up to him, took him by his cheek using your thumb and index finger, and pulled him down so you could press a short peck onto his lips. Afterward, you pulled away from his lips but stayed in his proximity. "Call me when you get home," you ordered in a quiet, smooth tone, "okay?"

He stared down at you in astonishment, his mouth hanging ajar as he tried to process what the hell happened in the last ten seconds.

"Uh—yeah, uh... I can do that," he muttered bashfully. You responded with a 'good' and gently patted his cheek two times before walking to your front door as if you hadn't just flipped the guy's entire world upside down.

"I'll be waiting," you called out before shutting the door and leaving Rodrick outside, frozen in place.

It was totally fate.

written by @nylaboon

[dsireland86]

Those pictures you took of Matt at the LP concert are giving me brain rot 🤤 imagine being at a Bad Omens concert and your by the FOH. Matt noticed you before the concert starts, bobbing your head to the openers, singing along to some of the song from the playlists in between sets. When its time for the boys to come you're jumping around, singing along to all the songs, screaming your little heart out. He's just watching you live your best life and it's just so cute. Once the concert is over and you're getting ready to leave, that when you notice Matt in his little habitat. You smile and wave at him, blushing cause you feel like you've just made a fool of yourself in front of him. He smiles and waves back, maybe asking security to pull you aside and to take you backstage for a fun little one night thing or something more if you both want it to be.

Oh man, you have no idea!! I'm more than sure he saw me, lol! I was the only one in that area (a lot of people hadn't found their seats yet either, so there was extra space) who was 1000% into them and their show. So many around me were like WTF watching me freak the eff out 🤣🤣 but I didn't care. Needless to say, when Linkin Park came on, I barely had any energy left! I absolutely love this request because as I was going through my pics, I pretty much had the same idea.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I changed the name of this one from "Living her best life" to "The Unexpected."

The Unexpected

Tag list:

@philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @nyxthedestroyerofworlds-deactiv @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @fadingangelwisp @dizzylmwahh @youlookforultraviolet

I found my seat easily, completely shocked at how close I was to the front. The stage looked so big from where I was standing, but I knew it was  even bigger than it really seemed. Looking over to my right, I noticed that The Front Of House set up, where all the behind the scenes magic of a show happened, was set up beside me, just two rows back. I could see everything and I realized what it meant; that I would have the best view of the famous Matt Dierkes! I giggle softly to myself, feeling the excitement swallow me whole.

The opening band was awesome. I'd never heard of them before, but damn they were good. While most around me were just standing, sitting, or wandering around aimlessly, I was very much into them. Especially the drummer. He had me glued, with air drumming, head bumping, and body moving included with every song. After they were over, disappointed that they had to end, I sat down for a moment to catch my breath and take a drink of water.

Scanning the stadium, taking it all in slowly, my eyes stopped the moment they landed on the F.O.H. and who was standing there looking right at me with a slight grin on his face. My eyes widened and I quickly looked away for fear of being thought of as that "weird person", but my heart was racing and I was cheesing like an idiot. When I risked a glance back over, thankfully Matt was staring at his computer screen and I breathed a sigh, but then his eyes shifted back over to me and he smiled again, this time a lot bigger. I couldn't resist returning it. The way his lips formed into such a cute smile made the butterflies in my belly flutter. If that wasn't crazy enough, Matt waved at me, raising his hand slightly and nodding my way. I grinned, my lips pressed together tightly and curling in the corners of my mouth while nodding back and waving briefly. He went back to looking at his computer screen, and I suddenly felt so stupid. Matt probably thought I was one weird ass person and I hated myself instantly for acting so awkwardly. Rolling my eyes, I let out a groan and ran my hands down my face, hoping to rid myself of the utter embarrassment I felt.

When the second act was over, Matt scrambled to finish his setup, and after a fifteen minute intermission, the lights went down, and the show started. With my attention now focused on the stage before me, I watched with so much excitement as my favorite band put on one of the best shows of their career.

It was pure insanity in the best way possible. For two songs straight, I sang every word to "Concrete Jungle" and "Artificial Suicide," and I nearly lost my head when three special guests joined them on stage. It was magical, energetic chaos the entire fifty minutes, and I absolutely loved every second of it. Screaming the lyrics out to every song as loud as I could, earning me the strangest looks from the sour people around me, I was proud to show off my Bad Omens pride for the entire world to see. They guys didn't just crush the night. They killed it, and they left their mark on so many new hearts that I knew this night would be talked about for a while.

The show ended with a bang, and as soon as it was over, I felt completely empty. Something I had been waiting months for ended so quickly, and I wasn't ready to process it yet. As the lights came on, I stood there for a moment, pretty oblivious to most of what was happening around me. I wasn't sure of what to do next considering I was still on the most incredible high, and I wasn't ready to come down from it and let it go, but I was dying for something to drink. Turning to step out into the aisle and brave the crowd, I heard a loud whistle and looked up to see where it had come from. That's when I saw Matt, winding up some cables, staring straight at me and wearing that same cute smiling. Beckoning me with a slight nod of his head, I maneuvered my way through the crowd of people, over to the fenced off area. 

"Hey," he grinned, still winding up cables. "Hey, yourself," leaning over the metal barrier as I looked up. "You seemed pretty into that opening band." I raised my eyebrows. "That opening band? You mean your band,” I corrected him with a smirk.

Matt huffed a slight laugh, looking down as he placed the cables in the box.

"So you do recognize me." "Oh, yeah," I grinned. "You're the man responsible for making all the magic happen." "Magic?" Matt's eyes narrowed, seeming to be puzzled. "What I do is magic? It's just a couple of cables, speakers, and programming. Nothing too complex or complicated." "For you, maybe not, but for some of us, it’s rocket science."

Unhooking a few more cables and bringing down the mixer carefully, Matt fixed his gaze on me again. "So, are you going to answer my question?" "You never asked me a question. You made a statement," I answered, raising an eyebrow. "Oh sassy. I like sassy."

The glint in his eyes matched the taunting grin gracing his lips, making my lower muscles tightened,

"Y'all freakin' killed it! Folio sounded incredible." "Got a thing for drummers?" "Maybe. It's classified," I teased, refusing to reveal all my secrets at once.

Stepping over some boxes, Matt came closer to me and squatted down. His eyes raked over me stopping when they locked with mine. He stared at me, holding me captive.

"Your eyes are really pretty up close." "Thank you," I said softly, too enticed by his look to say anything else.

I watched him swallow hard.

"I'm a drummer, you know," he smirked. "I do know that," I replied.

Matt raised an eyebrow.

"You mentioned it on The Downbeat." "Oh yeah," he grinned. "I'm assuming Folio is included in this classified question and answer? Do I have some competition?" "What does Folio have to do with this?" "He's a drummer." “So.”

Matt's brow furrowed.

"You're a very difficult girl, to read," Matt laughed "I'm sorry." "No, not in a bad way," he assured me. "In an intriguing way. I want to know more."

I looked up at Matt like he was crazy.

"What? You’re crazy,” I chided with a chuckle. "How is wanting to get to know you crazy?" "Look around! There's thousands of other women around here who are more interesting than me. Prettier, too.

Matt stood up, grabbing another cable.

"Okay, first, I'm not crazy. I know what I like and what I want."

His response was immediate and startling. Was he implying to me?

"Second, last time I checked, you're part of the thousands of women around here, so your excuse there is invalid. As far as the prettier bit, that's just not true either. In all solid honesty, you're very pretty and attractive to a lot of eyes, including mine.”

Matt smiled wide, and I couldn't help returning it, despite how loud the hammering of my heart was against my chest. This was unreal to me. This had to be some kind of dream and I needed to wake up before I got too invested in this.

"I really would like to get to know you a little more, if you're cool with that."

He looked down at me, waiting for me to answer.

All teasing was stripped away, the moment revealed a sincerity that I never would have expected from him, and it made my heart flutter. Matt's words hung in the air around us, making the moment a little tense. The immediate shift in Matt's tone made me shiver.

"I'm almost done here," squatting back down. "Come backstage with me and we can hang out for a little bit. I'll introduce you to the guys, too, if you want."

His soft brown eyes pleaded with me. I hesitated for a moment, thinking to myself how crazy this was. 

"I'm not some kind of weirdo. I'm not going to hurt you if that's what you're worried about," Matt assured me, as if he could read my mind.

"I know that," I chuckled” "Okay, so? Is that a yes?"

Finally, I nodded, hoping I didn't make this entire moment as awkward as it felt like I did.

The nerves in my stomach had me feeling a bit nauseous. I followed close behind Matt, past security and through two double gym style doors. We walked past a few opened doors, my curious eyes looking into each and everyone of them, and I did a double take as familiar faces flashed before my eyes, while staring into one. Apparently, I caught their eyes too, because all four of them peered around the corner to watch Matt and I walk by. I turned back around so fast out of sheer embarrassment, feeling my cheeks heat up. Matt led us to a kitchen area with a few tables, a fridge, a microwave, some cabinets, and counters. It was so quiet. Now that it was just me and Matt, I felt more nervous than before, my stupid insecurity acting up. I hated when I got like this around people because it always meant my walls went up. I didn't want that; not now, not with Matt. Stupid social anxiety.

"Alcohol, water, soda or sports drink," Matt asked. "Water, please."

Bringing over two bottles, he opened mine and handed it to me, and I thanked him, appreciating the gentlemanly gesture. Matt sat down and removed his hat, running his fingers through his light brown hair.

"Why do you wear a hat all the time?"

Matt looked over at me, pulling his hair back and tying it up out of his face.

"I just do," he shrugged. "I look better, I think.” "Mmm, I don't know. You have a pretty cute face. "Really?" Matt's genuinely sweet smile melted my heart. "Really,” I said, honestly. 

The night went on with us chatting about random stuff; hobbies, jobs, families, all of that kind of stuff. It was nice; really nice. But there was a hindrance between us. Something there that neither of us wanted to admit.

Matt studied my face for a moment, with an intensity that had me swaying closer toward him. He scooted closer to me, too, and pretty soon, we were sitting side by side, knees touching.

"Is this okay?" he asked sweetly. "Mmm-hmm, it's okay," I replied. "Damn," "What?" My eyes darted between Matt's. "You're beautiful."

The compliment made my breath hitch and I instantly broke eye contact with Matt.

"Hey, look at me."

Matt turned my face towards him. My eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his skin against mine. This was dangerous, so dangerous.

"Dammit. Touching you was a bad idea," he groaned, and my core melted at the sound. His thumb stoked my lips, his eyes burned with a deep need of something I knew I could give him, and that's when I knew I'd do whatever it took to hear that groan of his again. 

"Why?" "Because I knew once I did, I wouldn't want to stop."

My entire world exploded that very second. The air was heavy around us with so many things I wanted to say, but couldn't because I was too afraid to

"I really want to kiss you right now," Matt confessed. 

He was tense, rubbing his palms up and down his thighs. I swallowed hard, knowing very well I shouldn't say what I was about to, but I couldn't control myself.

"Then kiss me."

The space between us no longer existed. I trembled the moment Matt's fingers brushed against the skin of my jawline as he slipped his hand behind my neck and pulled me into him. The coolness of his touch gave me shivers.

Then he kissed me the way I wanted, the way I'd been aching for, softly and slowly. His hands moved over me like liquid leaving a sort of burning heat in their wake, making me crave his touch everywhere. I reached out and pulled him against me as if I was searching for something. God, he was such a good kisser. Grabbing onto his wrists to steady myself, everything but Matt felt like a massive blur. Nothing else mattered but him and this moment with him. He'd lit the match in my dark world, lighting up the room with a sensation I'd never felt before. I knew then that leaving tonight without him would be one of the hardest things I'd ever have to do.

Breaking away, I pressed my forehead against Matt's as he brought his hands to my face. He kissed the tip of my nose before pulling back and leaving a soft, sweet kiss on my forehead. I loved forehead kisses.

"No wait," I whispered, keeping my eyes closed because I was afraid to look up. "This was just supposed to be us getting to know each other, not this." Matt lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze that was burning with hunger. "We are getting to know each other, just not in the way we expected." 

The way he smiled at me before attaching his lips to mine again had me convinced and as if he could read my thoughts, he kissed me harder. My lips parted and the very second Matt licked into my mouth, his tongue meeting mine and stroking it, my core melted, again.

I weaved my finger through his hair, completely and totally surrendering to his touch. "Get on my lap," he ordered, pulling me into him. Willingly, I obeyed, hearing the faint growl low in his throat as my wet sex pressed itself against his erection. That's when the kiss spun completely out of control like I knew it would, turning wild and urgent. It tasted of that sweet madness that I'd only read in a book or had seen in a movie. It didn't feel real, yet it was; very real.

Matt pulls back, his breathing ragged and fast. "Fuck," was all he said. "Matt," I said, almost whining. "I know," he replied, cupping my face and kissing me again. "I've never done this before," I confessed. "Done what?" "This, what we're doing. Never with someone I've just met."

Matt grinned. "I'm assuming you have," I asked. I knew he could hear the smile in my accusation.

"Once or twice. But it was seriously just that for the both of us; a sexual desire that needed to be quickly filled." He brushed the loose strands of hair out of my face, running his finger over my cheek. "And that's not what this is?" "For me or for you," Matt asked sincerely. I hesitated. I knew exactly how I felt. "For you." "No."

Matt's instant, solid "no" hit me so hard that, for a moment, I forgot to breathe. His expression was serious, telling me he was being honest and truthful. I threw my arms around his neck and wrapped myself tightly around him. I didn't expect anything in return, but when the grip around my waist tightened to the point that I could barely move, I'd never felt as safe and wanted as I did in that moment, in Matt's arms.

"You know what's crazy though," he said quietly into my neck. "What?" "I don't even know your name yet." I felt his smile against my skin again. "It's y/n."

"Well, y/n, how about we go back to my hotel room tonight and continue this. We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with or don’t want to do. We can just talk. And if it leads to more then that's a bonus. "I pulled away to look at Matt. His brown eyes were sincere, making me grin. I kissed him, placing both of my hands on the side of his face before laying my forehead against his again. "Alright. Let's go." Hey, that's my line."

[wrong-turn-ronald]

Stop being hilarious when it's absolutely my own fault for not sleeping rn

does argyle have a last name

[eddiestightywhities]

SNIPPET SUNDAY

tagged by @kitteneddiediaz—thank you baz, my love! you can check out their latest wip HERE btw :)

mine is from one of my gazillions of wips, this one a (sort of) fake dating scenario that maybe isn't so fake for every party involved.

.

“Eddie!”

Buck somehow manages to sound like he's hissing the name as he reaches out through the crowd, reminding Eddie a little of the pregnant Rattlesnake from that one house call in Inglewood earlier in the week.

He's probably going to grip Eddie's left elbow and lean in to say something about the song currently booming through the super base-y speakers, or tell Eddie that it's his round and that Buck wants one of those purple cocktails Karen was drinking earlier on in the evening (Eddie knew Buck had been secretly eying them up).

But then Buck's getting even closer than that, all wide-eyed and wild like that spooked animal again, and rasping into Eddie's ear, “I'm sorry but please just don't say anything, alright? And just—

“What?” Eddie's hollering back, even though he heard Buck just fine.

“—just go with it and follow my lead, okay? Please, Eds, just—you gotta just play along, alright?” he's insisting, and he seems pretty harried, his forehead wrinkling in that adorable way it does when something's bothering him.

Eddie has no clue as to what the hell Buck is talking about. Buck's hands are now circling both Eddie's biceps as he waits impatiently for a signal from Eddie, and something signifying Eddie's confusion likely flashes across Eddie's face when he shoots a quizzical look at Crazy-Eyes Buck, the pair of them just standing there on the edge of the dance floor painted in alternating blues and pinks yellows by the club's swirling, neon lights.

That's when he remembers Buck asking him to play along, so Eddie gives his signal of compliance by schooling his expression into something neutral and pointedly says sweet eff ay more than nada de nada.

If Buck asked him to keep schtum, then Eddie's keeping schtum.

See, Eddie will always give Buck whatever Buck needs because Eddie is a relatively decent guy—which means that when it comes to this sort of shit, he is fairly secure in knowing he would still be serving up the whole world on a silver platter for Evan Buckley whatever the weather, even if Eddie weren't so stupidly gone on him.

He tries his best to put that thought out of his mind as he looks at Buck and makes his eyes say I get it—only it's a little more under the cover of the fan of his lashes than usual, because Buck is standing way closer to Eddie than he normally would be in a social setting (he isn't counting work).

Then everything goes stock-still and impossibly silent as Buck's fingers begin to trace both sides of Eddie's neck, each big hand now moving to span Eddie's jaw—and Eddie very much does not get it when Buck leans in, as if he's going to fucking kiss Eddie.

And then Buck is fucking kissing Eddie.

.

my tags are beneath the cut, play or nay :)

@inell @rosieposiepuddingnpie @sortasirius @angela-feelstoomuch @woodchoc-magnum @eddiegettingshot @mazzystar24 @daffi-990 @treasurehuntbuck @veronae-buddie

[thecoffeelorian]

The Anomaly Series, Chapter 5: The Mothers' Touch (Jod Na Nawood x Reader)

A/N: If you’re looking for this show’s “Justice Ending” where the folks in Wim’s neighborhood mace the eff out of the invading pirate horde, knock them out to death like a scene from Jordan Peele’s “Us”, and then let their respective pet dogs and cats feast upon the remains…I’m afraid that this is not the fanfic you’re looking for.

Rather, this is all about the AU that I’ve unofficially dubbed “The Anomalyverse”, one in which a certain Captain has something a bit closer to a kriffing conscience; another thing a bit further away from a (self-) destructive love of riches; and a whole shipload of connecting the dots/having fun with headcanons in between.

Specifically, headcanons such as a distant link to Qui-Gonn Jinn; a destroyed planet; a dead mother; an absent father; and possibly even an ancestral tie to Tak Rennod, for example...so, if there's anybody left out there who also wants to follow these clues to a drastically different conclusion, I would certainly be glad to have you.

As for anybody wondering just where the heck Jod is during the last few chapters...well, he’ll certainly return in Chapter 6. For now, however, I have to build up everything else in order to reach the good parts...so please, stay tuned if you're able! ;)

Chapter Title: The Mothers' Touch

Genre: Drama/Romance.

Extra Tags: Slow Burn; Obvious Canon Divergence; This Is Just An Experiment; Don't Try This At Home; Into The Anomalyverse.

Word Count: 1,514 words.

AO3: Click Here!

Master List: Click Here!

CW: There will be mentions of trespassing, traveling without documents, a character vomiting, references to violence and child endangerment, a second character losing an arm, and a secondary plotline of interviewing child witnesses to a crime...so from this moment forward, reader discretion is advised.

Special Notes: As I have no clue how to even begin to breach the topic of child abuse...let's just do the safe thing and label this as 'Spoilers up to Episode 4'.

As for the planet of Argann, I deliberately recycled it from an old Bad Batch story series rather than using Lanupa as a location. Ya know...because this is my turn in the creativity sandbox, or whatever. ;D

No Pressure Tags:

@racheldon @trinsghost @tealsage7 @sorryximlame @scarfsss

@kazthedestroyer @ahcedf @lokisnapemalfoy @pottershelby @inastarlesssky

@shirley-girly @amawu23 @lokigirlszendaya @kazunish @gun-roswell

@braveincafleet @brookeandherfandoms @bridge-always @yellowbubblewrap @xbeyondthegatex

@hey-x-jude @papa-poutine @lulalovez @robin-hyperfixates @badbatchposts and anybody else who ISN'T ready to stop asking questions about what little we know of this character.

Midday, At Attin.

It’s almost been one rotation since the landing, and the Intensive Care Ward is the next stop on your list so that you can get a little bit more work done before lunchtime arrives. On this same day, however, no thanks to a somewhat unwelcome push for information from the local press...you’ve got to wade your way through them before you can travel anywhere.

Best. Day. EVER.

Of course, they don’t think twice about pelting you with questions as their blasted flashbulbs go off. What is the current condition of the children, where are they now, did they bring any illnesses in with them. Who was the man traveling with them, where is he now, did he bring in any illegal weapons, was he holding them for ransom. In fact, they get so kriffing loud that it’s almost enough to make you want to bend forward and release what’s left of your breakfast all over their fine leather shoes.

Maybe you should do just that, if only to teach the nerfherders a lesson that they will NEVER forget.

Luckily for you, though—if not also for the shoes—Madam Undersecretary’s helping you duck into a waiting hovercar a few minutes later, thus providing you a moment of peace from those pesky reporters. They’ll just have to listen to the sounds of their own voices for a time, and see if they can guess anything by hearsay alone.

As for you and your boss, it should be a relatively short trip as the worst of the morning traffic cleared up about an hour ago, thus significantly lowering the chances of any traffic jams as well as speeder accidents.

A welcome occurrence, to be sure…especially when you remember exactly who it is you’re off to question.

Nevertheless, even if it’s just for a few minutes, your thoughts also shift back to him and how, if at all, he might be adjusting to this new planet. Is he dealing with a harsh difference of time zones right now, for example? What about weather, or gravity, or for all that you know, staying in a place where not everyone’s so eager to cut his throat? You can only imagine what thoughts he might be wrestling with at this moment, even if it’s just because you can’t read his mind and figure it out for yourself.

You can’t exactly fret too much about this, though, because the next thing you know, the doors of At Attin General are rolling into view and you’ve got to put your Work Face back on. Remember, you’re here to get some definitive answers, not lose yourself in a fit of T-Drama sentimentality.

This is how you find yourself standing in the borders of No-Man’s-Land, the two Queens of this territory having accepted the Undersecretary’s request for a meeting hours ahead of time. Both Maree and Garree rise to meet you with the usual offers fitting local hospitality, some tea from the hospital kitchen, a few sweets, and did you have trouble getting here? As the two official guests in this room, it’s almost a rite of protection, and for this, you’re quick to accept the tea but decline the food.

Business practices, after all, were always meant to be conducted on a somewhat fast track.

As for the Princess of this realm, it’s not long at all before the focus is on her again, as both herself and her life monitor are well within reach, and she won’t be going on any more surprise adventures for a while. Today, K.B. has the look of someone who’s been startled one time too many, the lasting anxiety of whatever took place far away from here evident in her body language, even if you can’t see it in her eyes.

Perhaps it’s just as well, though, because if she’s actually one of four witnesses to a crime rather than a mere runaway ship…somebody has to get her to speak up.

“Hey, kiddo…how are you feeling?”

Fara breaks the ice with a check upon the girl’s welfare, a surefire way to loosen up whatever tension there might have been in this room before your arrival.

“Shaky,” K.B. confesses in a whisper, and wastes no time leaning into Maree for some extra comfort. She’ll definitely get everything she needs as of yesterday, though it’s not yet clear when she’ll be discharged.

“I know. You’re going to be okay, though, we’re all here now.”

“Fern’s not…”

In the meantime, she's glancing over your shoulder like any other worried girl, no doubt hoping to get a glimpse of her bestie. You'd most likely do the same if it were you sitting in that bed, though certainly for a few familiar faces of your own.

“...Is she safe? Is she all right?”

“She's in my office, catching up on some schoolwork—”

“—They tried to take her away!”

The admission goes off like a firecracker in this otherwise quiet chamber, and it doesn't fail in making all four of you jolt at once.

“ 'They'? Who's they?”

“The weirdos who tried to take our ship!”

Weirdos. A childish term, but a plural one at that—and a sign that you might soon be getting somewhere.

“What weirdos, K.B.?”

Your datapad is out and primed a short while afterward as well, all the better to record all of the juicy details that Fern may have forgotten to mention—and, given that this witness already has a talent for recalling things a bit better than most folks her age, you’ve got a feeling that you’re on the edge of a breakthrough.

“I counted six of them at the time—I think they were part of Jodwick's old crew—and then they took Fern as a hostage.”

'Jodwick'...? You didn't expect that as a possible name for your stranger, but you also suppose that almost anything is a possibility for a case like this. Just to keep yourself from getting too distracted, though, you've still got to focus better on your notes.

“I see...that must have been very scary for you.”

There's still a bit of corroboration to pursue here, after all, and for that you've got to start hearing a similar story from K.B. in order to better believe Fern's...or if not, to start sniffing after what really took place.

“It was. All we wanted to do was get some coordinates and then take off, and—and they barged in.”

Maree’s stealing a look with Fara now, something you can’t exactly decipher because it’s so quick that you almost miss it. You’ll just have to ask her about this later, though, because you’re far from being finished here.

“Understandable, understandable...now, where exactly was this?”

“Just above Tak Rennod's vault. I—I think the planet was called Argann.”

A potentially dangerous treasure vault and an unfamiliar planet? Oh, but how this poor girl must have gone through it—

“—And you said that these other...people took Fern hostage?”

“They did.”

“How did she escape them?”

K.B. has to stop and think for a moment, a small pause for everyone else in this room during which the arrival of the tea becomes a welcome distraction—yet when she speaks up again, all four of you are certainly paying attention until the end.

“I think—no, I know—that the shadow of a lady appeared.”

“A shadow?”

“I think so. She was dark, dark all over with no eyes or mouth, none of that. Almost like she was made out of it, or something."

“ ‘Made out of shadows, no facial features’...okay. Keep going.”

“Okay, so then—so the lady put her hands together like she was holding something, or gripping it, I don't know—and then she spins around real fast, brings her hands down, and then—”

All four of you give a collective jump.

“The guy holding Fern loses his arm, he falls to the ground and starts howling, she runs back to us, and the next thing we know—”

You jolt in your seat a second time as there's a small, shrill beeping sound letting itself be heard somewhere in the center of the room. Your first instinct, if not also the only real one, is to go straight to K.B.'s side and make good use of that emergency call button. Her augs could easily be acting up again, after all, and for that reason alone, you're sure that no time should be wasted here.

To everyone's surprise, though? K.B.'s waving you off in seconds, her focus landing on the Undersecretary instead.

“It's not me, I’m fine,” she insists, pointing to something around Fara's wrist. “That’s what’s making all the noise.”

Sure enough, before any one of you can start asking questions or else look just as confused as you feel...the beeping is followed by an automated message, and only then do you find yourself feeling as though you're the one going cold.

“Attention. Attention. Security breach at the holding cells; please send back-up immediately.

I repeat, security breach at the holding cells; please send back-up immediately...”

[sincerelyamee]

[How I imagine Gojo teaching 5-year-old Megumi about his Ten Shadows technique aka recipe for disaster]

Most sorcerers with flashy innate techniques typically awake their powers around five or six years old - right around the same magnificent age they discover crayons are wonderfully effective for decorating more than just coloring books (RIP white walls everywhere).

Innate techniques in particular have a mind of their own, essentially “calling” to their user like an overly eager pet begging for treats and attention. One day, baby sorcerers just wake up, and bam - suddenly shadows are tugging at their skin or flames are sparking from their fingers, no warning or parental consent form required.

Little Megumi has been feeling the very first stirrings of his Ten Shadows for weeks now. Random surges of cursed energy that are definitely not just from sneaking extra pudding cups. Mysterious but insistent tugging sensations from the shadows, like ghostly hands trying to initiate a game of tag.

So, it’s time he gets some pointers on it, right? At least, that’s what Gojo decided.

On one peaceful morning, Gojo whisks out a whiteboard and markers from… somewhere. With such theatrical showmanship, one would think he was auditioning for Broadway itself. Yet the children serve as the ultimate tough crowd, responding only with raised eyebrows and curious glances.

Still, Gojo strikes a scholarly pose.

“Alright, my star pupil - Today’s lesson is on your badass upcoming technique!” Gojo announces, gesturing for Megumi to sit front and center.

As Megumi hesitantly takes his place, Nanako leans over to Mimiko. “How come he just happens to have a random whiteboard ready? Where does that even come from?” She whispers. Mimiko just shakes her head, too busy stuffing her mouth with chips.

“To start, your very first summons will be these adorable Divine Dogs!” Gojo proclaims enthusiastically. “Though at first, they’re more like Divine Pups…”

His marker zig-zags wildly as he tries sketching two majestic wolves. Emphasis on tries. The end results look something akin to a pair of mutant chickens wearing tutus. That elicits poorly contained giggles from the girls. Megumi simply stares, somehow experiencing all seven stages of grief simultaneously.

“Those are some weird chickens, nii-chan.” Tsumiki blurts out with all the sophistication of a future art critic.

“They look like they survived a nuclear blast,” Nanako adds.

Why does she even know what a nuclear blast is? Kids these days. Gojo makes a mental note to berate Geto later for letting the devil’s spawns watch too much TV. But since he’s Gojo, he forgets about it immediately. For now, he blinks down at his drawings, then back at the giggling, unimpressed kids.

“Clearly you heathens lack the artistic vision to appreciate my creative genius.” Gojo huffs before erasing his previous attempts in stunned outrage.

But Gojo Satoru isn’t one to give up easily, or ever.

Like a runaway freight train, Gojo charges full steam ahead. His Louvre-worthy artistic visions expand stranger the longer the ridiculous lesson continues. With each stroke of the marker, Gojo’s illustrations venture further into worlds unknown by man or beast. Eldritch creatures populate the poor whiteboard as head scratching and sideways glances spread among the children.

Megumi watches in dismay as the hours tick painfully on, the squeaking hamster powering his brain throwing itself from the rusty wheel. The last of his sanity packs its bags and flees into the abyss rather than witnessing more of Gojo’s artistic assaults against nature. At the rate this is going, he half expects his first summon to be a potato with Gojo’s face haphazardly drawn on it.

A glaring oversight dawns on the boy - for all Gojo’s useless prattling and monstrous drawings, explaining the actual summoning process appears a mere afterthought, if the man is even capable of actual thoughts at all. When asked, he simply waves off the question with a dodgy uh-huh. Just as effective as inquiring an orange tabby on quantum physics.

“It’s not that hard.” Gojo shrugs dismissively. “You’ll figure it out.”

Megumi rubs his temples, contemplating if it’s too late to grab Tsumiki and flee this madhouse, perhaps taking the twins as well. No one deserves such ruthless torture. Gojo may be well on his way to becoming another villain overlord with questionable artistic skills, but this? This right here marks Fushiguro Megumi’s very own villain origin story.

Staring blankly ahead in post-traumatic shock, Megumi knows one truth with the certainty of death itself - never, ever again will he make the fatal error of taking a lesson from Gojo. No, he must figure out this Ten Shadows technique solo going forward. Though now Megumi ponders whether deliberately summoning all those nightmarish abominations is something best avoided altogether.

read the whole thing here on Ao3: A Family of Villains - A wacky villain origin story/Kinda a slice-of-life fic exploring the logistics of 18-year-old sashisu being the greatest villains in the jujutsu world while on the run and raising 4 kids. Mostly fluff and humor of course.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Rsync corrump linkdump

I'm coming to DEFCON! On Aug 9, I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On Aug 10, I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

As per the uje, I've arrived upon a Saturday with a backlog of links that I have not managed to squeeze into the week's newsletters/blogs, so it's time for another linkdump, 22nd in an erratic series. Here's the previous 21:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

Let's start with some seasonal material, and by "seasonal," I of course mean Hallowe'en. Yes, August is the official start of Spooky Season, and yes, I am a monster for insisting on this, but being a monster is the point of Spooky Season (which is what differentiates Spooky Season pushers like me from the creeps who insist that you need to start prepping for Xmas in late September – they're monsters, too, but Yule Monsters are bad) (with the exception of Krampus).

I was a monster kid and now I'm a monster adult. It all started when I was bitten by a radioactive Haunted Mansion at the age of six:

https://memex.craphound.com/2012/10/22/how-a-haunted-mansion-addict-fell-in-love-with-the-greatest-ride-on-earth/

I am a sucker for all things monstrous, and so I was intrigued when I got a book of "creepy-cute" stickers in the mail from a publicist at Simon & Schuster:

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/The-Creepy-Cute-Sticker-Book/Gaynor-Carradice/Creepy-Cute-Gift-Series/9781507222515

"Creepy-Cute" turns out to be an official designation, embraced by the illustrator GaynorCarradice, who has created several books on these lines, featuring her chibi/monster crossover creations, which do exactly what it says on the tin, by which I mean, there's some genuinely creepy stuff in the mix, along with the cute.

It's when the cute pastels rub up against the gore, skulls, eyeballs and other visceral viscera that these illustrations really kick off some heat – I've rounded up a few of my favorites here:

https://craphound.com/images/creepycute.jpg

One of the surefire signs that Spooky Season is upon us is that the (sometimes NSFW) Tumblr account Halloweenlandmotherfucker emerges from dormancy with a stream of images of vintage Hallowe'en cards (these were a thing!), photos of people in costume and other delightful visual novelties:

https://www.tumblr.com/halloweenlandmotherfucker

Monster culture isn't just for Hallowe'en, of course. The ancient and noble tradition of compiling and publishing bestiaries is alive and well, thanks to RPGs. In the beginning, there was the D&D Boxed Set, with its Monsters and Treasure booklet:

https://www.americanroads.us/DandD/ODnD_Monsters_and_Treasure.pdf

Then came the Monster Manual, the first hardcover D&D book, succeeded by the Fiend Folio, which featured Charlie Stross creations like the githzerai and slaad, Indeed, there was a whole, iconic library of hardcovers that fit perfectly in an oversized backpack that I dragged everywhere so that I could obsessively read and re-read them.

Eventually, these gave way to new hardcovers with new rules as well as new corporate owners (Wizards of the Coast, then Hasbro), culminating in the release of the Open Gaming License, an "open content" license that was a) grossly defective; b) largely irrelevant; and c) hugely controversial in 2023, when Hasbro terminated it:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/12/beg-forgiveness-ask-permission/#whats-a-copyright-exception

The Open Gaming License purported to license out game elements that weren't copyrightable (rules, tables, etc), as well as material that you could likely use under copyright exceptions like fair use:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/01/beware-gifts-dragons-how-dds-open-gaming-license-may-have-become-trap-creators

And worst of all, it was revocable, so games publishers who tooled up to publish supplements and sourcebooks based on the OGL could have the rug yanked out from under them at any time (that time turned out to be early 2023).

Hasbro's OGL rug-pull had three salutary effects:

I. It gave gamers a crash-course in what was – and wasn't – copyrightable in an RPG design;

It encouraged game developers to look beyond D&D's OGL rules and into truly open (and often superior) alternatives; and

It inflicted so much reputational harm on Hasbro that, 20 months later, they announced that they would release a new set of D&D rules under the Creative Commons Attribution Only 4.0 license:

https://www.dicebreaker.com/games/dungeons-and-dragons-5e/news/dungeons-and-dragons-2024-srd-wont-be-another-ogl-fiasco

Now, CC BY 4.0 is a real-ass license. Notably, it corrects a defect in the earlier versions of the CC licenses that gave rise to a class of predatory copyleft trolls like the odious Pixsy:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/24/a-bug-in-early-creative-commons-licenses-has-enabled-a-new-breed-of-superpredator/

If Hasbro follows through on their promise, the new CC materials will kick off with the 2025 release of the next edition of the Monster Manual:

https://dungeonsanddragonsfan.com/new-2024-dnd-monster-manual/

It's wild to think that tabletop RPGs are now a cutting-edge way to learn about digital policy, but on the other hand, D&D arrived in my home around the same time as my Apple ][+, which was also around the time I first heard the name Ronald Reagan (rest in piss).

The legacies of the 80s – RPGs, digital technology and Reaganomics – cast a long shadow. Last month, many of us discovered the hard way that Reaganomics – specifically, the embrace of monopolies as "efficient" – has produced a world of unimaginable brittleness. Millions of people around the world found themselves cut off from ATM cash, flights, hospital care, and many other essentials thanks to the Crowdstrike Blue Screen of Death outage. While many of the explainers have focused on how Crowdstrike fatfingered a software update that crashed all those computers, there's been a lot less commentary about how it is that one company had it in its power to do so much harm.

Writing last week for EFF's Deeplinks blog, my colleague Rory Mir tackled that (far more important) issue:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2024/07/crowdstrike-antitrust-and-digital-monoculture

Market concentration – monopoly – is the common thread wound around so many of our daily horribles. Think of the tech billionaires who threw in their lot with Trump last month. How did they get to be billionaires? Monopoly power. Remember back in 2017, that notorious photo of the tech industry meeting at the top of Trump Tower, with Peter Thiel at Trump's left hand?

https://techcrunch.com/2016/12/14/donald-trump-meets-with-tech-leaders/

People were appalled that this group of corporate leaders, who between them controlled virtually all the technology in our lives, would debase themselves by paying fealty to this buffoonish would-be dictator.

But far more consequential was the fact that you could fit everyone who controlled all of our technology around a single table. Once everyone important to an industry can fit around a single table, it's only a matter of time until they find a table to sit around, and that's when it all starts to go wrong. As the Communist firebrand Adam Smith once wrote, "People of the same trade seldom meet together, even for merriment and diversion, but the conversation ends in a conspiracy against the public, or in some contrivance to raise prices."

Enshittification starts with market concentration. This is a subject I'm going to be going very deep on next Saturday, when I give my Defcon keynote, "Disenshittify or die! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification":

https://info.defcon.org/event/?id=54861

When I give that talk – and afterwards at my book signing – I will be wearing an N95 mask, just as I did last year. Why am I wearing a mask? Two reasons: first, Long Covid is a horror. One of the best writers I know – a living legend – recently told me that their book-writing days are likely done because of Long Covid brain fog.

A new Lancet article gets deep into the science of Long Covid:

https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S014067362401136X

The principle author of the Lancet article is Oxford health professor Trish Greenhalgh, who gave an excellent lay summary in her newsletter:

https://independentsage.substack.com/p/long-covid-a-dystopian-game-of-pinball

In particular, Greenhalgh describes why some people don't get Long Covid, and some people do – and, most important, explains why the fact that you didn't get Long Covid last time doesn't mean you won't get it next time:

https://independentsage.substack.com/p/long-covid-a-dystopian-game-of-pinball

So I don't want to get covid, and so I'm gonna wear a mask. Because masks fucking work. A new study reveals just how well they work:

https://www.thelancet.com/journals/ebiom/article/PIIS2352-3964(24)00192-0/fulltext

The study shows that wearing any mask, even without knowing how to fit it well, offers substantial protection against both contracting and transmitting covid. Even better: wearing an N95 (even without paying attention to correct fit) offers "near perfect" protection against covid:

https://today.umd.edu/n95-masks-nearly-perfect-at-blocking-covid-umd-study-shows

I didn't get covid at Defcon last year, and I didn't get it at HOPE, and I didn't get it on our family vacation in July – all events where friends got sick. The difference? I wore a mask. Which works.

OK, I need to go work on my Defcon speech some more, so I'm gonna sign off, but I will leave you with just one more link, the wonderful new public domain image search tool, Public Work, which crawls and indexes the Met, the NYPL, and other sources:

https://public.work/

I rely on public domain, CC and other freely usable clip art to make the collages that accompany this newsletter/blog's stories. While I have very little talent in the visual arts, I'm getting steadily better. I mean, look at this amazing image I womped up for last week's story on Bitcoin bros' election campaign finance fraud:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/53893519593/in/album-72177720316719208

You can see a collection of my recent collages in my Flickr gallery for them:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/albums/72177720316719208?sd

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/03/smorgasbord/#creepy-cute

Image: Anne Lindblom (cropped) https://www.flickr.com/photos/kajsawarg/3600415175

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[gaysindistress]

When Night Comes - eleven

Summary: Who would win in a staring contest? New York’s resident mob boss and master of the side eye Bucky Barnes or the daycare teacher who really wants to go home and smoke?

pairing: Mob!Vampire!Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: mob!Bucky, cursing, major character death mentions

word count: 2.6k

ten | masterlist

tag list: ​ @elizacusi-blog @mal-adaptive-dreams @thebuckybarnesvault @unaxv @hidden-treasures21 @buckybarnessimpp @cakesandtom

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

Alix slams the car door much to Juliette’s dismay and she makes a faint grunt of annoyance. Juliette follows after her into the building before them. It’s one of their hideouts gifted to them by Peggy when she’d made the original agreement. Peggy claimed that no one would be able to find them there and they would be safe to lay low. 

“Please don’t slam my door, it’s new.” 

Alix froze and only turned enough to see her subordinate out of the corner of her eye. No words came out alas Juliette is terrified and shrinks into herself as they continue their walk inside. 

The stress of being in New York wears into Alix’s shoulders and she hunches more than before, hiding her true size. Compared to her siblings, she’s small but standing at just over 6 feet, she dwarfs most other Lycan women. She’d used it to her advantage when she came up through the ranks but she would’ve made it either way. After her parents died, the pack leadership fell to her oldest brother but when he backed out for a woman, she took over.The disgrace of his actions followed her around but that didn’t stop her from fighting tooth and nail for the title of pack leader even if it is her family’s birth right.

Alix all but dumps herself onto a cot and shudders at the mild relaxation it offers her. Juliette sits down next to her, placing a hand on her knee as she watches the tension drain out of her. 

“You know…” she trails as she moves her hand further up Alix’s thigh. 

“Get your fucking hand off of me.” 

Juliette doesn’t answer or comply. Alix’s claws flash and she grips into her wrist, yanking it from her body. She drags the woman off of the cot and to the window that overlooks a 2 story drop. 

“Don’t ever fucking touch me. I won’t hesitate to tear you apart limb by fucking limb, you slut.”

Tears well in Juliette’s eyes as she nods feverishly to prove that she understands. She lets out a cry of relief when Alix drops her and goes to lay back down on the cot. 

“Did Peggy give you anything yet?”

“Uh…” she sniffles as she wipes at her face and digs into her jacket for her phone, “They’re going to Bucharest.”

“You already told me that.” “Oh I’m sorry. He only took the Rogers, Yelena, and Natasha with him so they’ll be low on security but she warned that he has people everywhere looking out for you. She advised that we wait before trying to go in.”

Alix lets a deep breath of frustration, “She can take her advice and shove it up her ass. Get John and Brock ready. We’ll leave in two days.”

“I really…”

“I don’t care what you think, just fucking do what I said. God I’m getting so sick of everyone’s back talk.”

Juliette swallows another hopeless cry and rapidly fires off messages to the pack, ensuring that they’ll be ready for the inevitably bloody fight that is going to happen.

“Ms. Sunny! Ms. Sunny!” Wyatt calls out to her as he bounds across the vast gardens of the Bucharest estate. 

Before Sunny and Peggy lay hundreds of flowers of all varieties and colors along with enough trees to create a wall between them and the outside world. In his hand, Wyatt held a small bouquet of flowers he undoubtedly picked from the bushes. Peggy flushed (if that’s even possible) at the sight and quickly got up to take them from the boy before Bucky saw.

“Oh honey, we don’t pick these flowers remember? They’re very special to Uncle Buck and he wouldn’t be very happy to know that you picked them without asking,” she said louder than needed, in efforts to make sure Sunny heard.

When she comes to sit back down, her plan seems to have worked because Sunny does immediately ask why they’re special. She pretends to bite back her response and acts as if she hadn’t meant for her to hear before “giving in” and telling her. Peggy starts by coyly looking at her son who is playing with Yelena and then dives right into the story of Celeste. The gardens had been her pride and joy when the weather allowed. She would spend hours upon hours outside, making sure that every flower got the attention it deserved. It warmed Bucky’s heart to see his love taking joy in a life that only offered pain to their kind and even more with their business. Peggy spared no detail in her story, exposing every secret she could think of from how Sunny and Celeste looked identical down to their ardent dislike for Bucky at first to how she had been found dead by him. She doesn’t bother to look at the human as she lies out of everything she knows about Celeste and Bucky, mostly because she doesn’t want to see the shock of betrayal that is undoubtedly stretched across her face. 

Peggy draws her tale to an end with a small smile and fake look of sadness to Sunny, “It was an awful time for him, you have to know. He had just about every memory of her destroyed or hidden. I almost forgot what she looked like until I saw you and it was like seeing her again. I can only imagine how much pain he must have been in seeing you and not being able to have his dear Celeste again.”

Sunny stares forward with a stunned look on her face, unable to even begin to process the story she’s just been told. Her mouth opens to say something but words are not her friend at the moment and nothing comes out. She tries again and only a few come out, “I’m just a replacement.”

Peggy places her hand on top of Sunny’s, “Oh no I wouldn’t say that. You may look like Celeste but you are your own person and I’m sure Bucky loves you for you.”

Sunny rips her hand away and shakes, “He loves me?”

“Well…” Peggy starts but is interrupted by Yelena who’s being chased after by Wyatt. 

“Jesus, does this kid have an off switch?” she jokes as she sits on the edge of the bistro table the other two women are sat at. She looks at Sunny and her smile drops instantly at her appearance. 

“Is everything okay?”

Sunny shakes her head as she snaps out of her trance, “I need to see Bucky, where is he?”

Yelena pushes off of the table, “I think he’s inside, do you want me to take you to him?” “No,” she says abruptly and marches off towards the house. Yelena takes her seat and looks to Peggy for an explanation but she’s no help and has given her whole attention to her son. 

Sunny pushes open the french doors that lead into a living room of sorts but Bucky is nowhere to be found. Faint men’s laughter rings out and she follows it like a bloodhound on a trail all the way to the other side of the massive house. She’s met with a set of large oak doors but behind it are the voices of Steve and Bucky. Debating on knocking, she forgoes the formality and walks straight into the surprise of the two men. 

“Draga,” Bucky sighed when he saw that it’s just her, “How are you?”

“Steve, get out. I need to talk to him, alone.” 

Steve looks to Bucky for guidance and gets up regardless. Bucky gives him a nod of approval and stands as well to meet Sunny. With his hands out, he goes to cradle her arms but she takes a staggering step back just as Steve closes the door. 

“Peggy told me about Celeste,” she whispers with pain etched deeply in her voice and across her face. 

He takes a deep breath as he rubs a hand down his face, “What did she tell you?”

“Everything.”

“Everything,” he repeats while he leans against a window seal that overlooks the very garden where it all happened. 

“Why didn't you tell me?”

He takes a moment before answering, “I didn’t want to scare you.”

She scoffs at his excuse, “But telling me that you’re strigoi was fine? This ”crossed the line though?” 

“I can see where I messed up,” he barely offers, voice devoid of anything but just underneath the surface he yearns to hold her and make things better. 

Her own voice isn’t up to par with his and it creaks as she tries to get out any words at all, “I trusted you. I don’t even know how I feel about you but I trusted you. I let Yelena go for you because I thought I could trust you.” 

That catches him off guard and his jaw tenses as his emotions begin to take over. 

“You did what?” 

“Right before I called you, Yelena and I broke things off.” 

His tongue pokes at the inside of his lip and he finally looks at her to see what he’s done to her unintentionally. Her eyes are watery and beginning to puff up from her efforts to hold back her tears. Her body is rigid from the stress of everything she’s been through. He can see the fatigue in her features and in her physical state. Since getting to Bucharest, she’s barely taken care of herself, granted it’s only been a matter of days but the neglect is clear as day. She needs him to be honest with her before the mental toll is too much and he risks losing whatever sliver of a chance he had. 

“Come here,” he calls to her in the softest voice he can manage. He too had been taken over by the severity of their situation. His facial hair has grown out to create a dark shadow across his face and his hair is longer than it’s been in years. He’s foregone any sort of luxury attire and instead lives in t-shirts with jackets and jeans. 

She hesitates for a moment but the calm call of his voice coaxes her closer and she disobeys her internal monologue to listen. With one arm outstretched, he beckons for her to tuck into his side and she doesn’t, staying just outside of his reach. 

“Come here,” he whispers again, leaning to graze his fingers against her arm and to catch her. She takes one small step forward and it’s enough for him to grasp her arm, tugging her the rest of the way. Wrapping her own arms around him, she buries her face into his shoulder and her emotions consume her. 

He lets her use him as a comfort object although he knows she doesn’t truly want him. She would take comfort from anyone or that’s what he tells himself. He whispers reassurance into her ear in Romanian and runs his hand up and down her back as her years come to an end. 

Sunny pulls away enough to look at him. Her hands take a hold of his face and she leans her forehead against his, closing her eyes as she does so. Their breaths mingle together and he allows himself to find comfort in her touch as well. His hands match hers; taking a hold of her face and holding her close enough it’s beyond tempting for him. 

“I’m not her,” she finally says. 

“I know.”

“Say my name.”

The black veins of his true self begin to raise and take over his self control. He snaps his eyes shut and goes to drop his hands  but she catches them in hers. 

“Say my name, Bucky.”

“Sunny,” he says shallowly as if there is no air in his lungs. 

“My name,” she emphasizes as she drops his hands to her neck and repositions hers on his face. 

“Don’t do this to me doll,” he warns as he tries to pull away but she refuses to let him. 

“Bucky, my name.”

The whine in her voice makes his lungs constrict and he feels her lip ghost over his. 

Before she fully pressed down into his, she asks him again to say her name and he complies this time, “Y/N.”

Satisfied with his response, she takes his lips in hers and kisses him. He stiffens in the start but relaxes into her embrace and gives into the kiss, fully allowing himself to enjoy what he’s been dreaming of. Sunny leans into him and his hands catch her waist so they don’t fall from her going practically limp in his arms. Soft sighs and moans leave her mouth as they kiss. Bucky pulls her into him even more and uses her noise of shock to slip his tongue into her mouth. One of her hands leaves his face to catch herself on the window frame as they lean back into their kiss. She pulls away for a moment to get a better look at the man before her and smiles at the sight. The black veins around his eyes have begun to recede while his dark blue eyes remain hidden behind his long lashes and short puffs of air leave his swollen lips. Her fingers drift over the veins and his eyes flutter open at the feeling. 

“Y/N,” he whispers against her fingers as she trails them down his face. 

“Bucky,” she whispers back.

“Y/N.”

Her smile grows softer the more he says her name, not her nickname but her name.

“What did you mean by ‘don’t do this to me’?” she asks as she continues to trace over his features. 

He chuckles while dropping his head so he doesn’t have to look at her when he answers her, “You already know.”

“No I don’t,” she says whilst drawing him up by his chin, “What did you mean?”

“Remember what I told you that night?” he sighs, letting the vulnerability consume him against his better judgment. 

She nods, her finger trailing across his lips and poking at where his fangs disappeared into his gums. 

“I’m weak when you’re around,” he tells her and kisses the tip of her finger. 

“Because of Celeste?”

He shakes his head, “It’s you, it’s always been you.”

“What did you tell her?” Steve harshly demands as he finds Peggy out in the garden with their son. He stalks up to her and nearly shatters the glass of her table when he slams his fists down. 

She doesn’t even flinch, instead offering him a sweet smile, “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, now tell me what you said to Sunny.” 

Peggy shrugs her shoulders and waves to Yelena who is being chased around by Wyatt. 

“You told her about Celeste didn’t you?”

She shrugs again, looking at him from under her lashes, “She was going to find out sooner or later. It was only a matter of time.”

Steve scoffs in disbelief, “That wasn’t for you to tell. Why would you do that?”

“Like I said,” she said, more defensive than before, “She was going to find out sooner or later so I sped up the process.”

“I hope you realize what this means for you.”

“And what exactly does this mean for you?” she hisses, spinning around to face her husband, “You’ll pick your friend over your wife? The mother of your child?”

Steve shakes his head before walking away, neither confirming nor denying her assumption. 

The minute he’s not within sight she pulls out of her phone to text Alix one thing and one thing only; the Bucharest Estate address with specific instructions on how to find Sunny’s and Bucky’s room. 

[fatphobiabusters]

I hate people like this with a passion. Stop using fat positive tags just to get views and clout when you are the complete opposite of fat positive. No one wants to see you praising your weight loss in tags made for highlighting fat bodies. To not just use these tags while your trying to lose weight but to also then brag about becoming thinner in the post itself is gross.

To the people who do this: you don't care about being a "fat babe," so stop flooding fat positive tags. This happens constantly, and each time I feel absolutely lied to and used. You're banking on fat positive people looking for representation to give you attention and notes while not actually giving a shit about fat liberation. The most egregious of the tags in this screenshot is "effyourbeautystandards." Eff what beauty standards?? Because you're bragging about conforming to them!

So many fat people who are hated by the world go to these tags because they're the only semblance of a safe place and solidarity that we have. How cruel can you be to then flood these tags with the fatphobia that fat people came to briefly escape? I look for fat representation a lot because I run and mod for fat positive blogs, and I can tell you that this is far from the only person who has pulled this. I even once wrote a comment asking someone who did this to stop using fat positive tags for their weight loss updates, and they block evaded me multiple times because they were furious about me supporting "toxic positivity."

I can't even look at these tags anymore because so many of the posts are nothing but people trying to lose weight and thin people trying to claim they're "plus size" for clout or whatever other fatness euphemism is popular this week. Not every tag is meant for everybody, and a fat positive tag is not meant for people bragging about weight loss. I can't believe I even have to say this.

Stop it!

-Mod Worthy

[writingquestionsanswered]

My character has a telepathic connection with another character, so they communicate like that often. What word style should I use to differentiate between Character 1's inner dialogue and their conversation with Character 2? I'm not sure about using quotations since they're not speaking out loud.

Formatting Telepathic Communication

The way I've usually seen it done, there's no distinction between internal monologue and mental dialogue, because the difference is inherent. With internal monologue--or inner dialogue as you call it--the character is talking with themselves so there's no response. With telepathic dialogue, there's response--and that would be tagged the same way as external dialogue, just without quotes. So it's obvious there's an actual conversation going on. You can also use tags to help indicate when something is internal monologue vs when it's internal/telepathic dialogue.

I watched the time on the clock, willing it to go faster. Come on, come on. We don't have all day.

Mrs. Cahill droned on about rocks at the front of the classroom. "Can anyone tell me the difference between igneous and sedimentary?"

Maria's voice popped into my head. Could this class go any slower?

I stifled a chuckle. No, it really couldn't. I feel like we've been here for days.

"Didn't anyone read the chapter?" Mrs. Cahill asked.

No, Mrs. Cahill, I thought to myself. Nobody read the chapter. You assigned homework on homecoming weekend for eff's sake.

Hey, I thought at Maria. "Are we still meeting at the lockers at four? Or should we meet earlier now?"

The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can forget about it. I'll try to be there between three and 3:15, Maria's voice answered inside my head.

See you then.

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[merinsedai]

for the @dreamlingbingo

Square/Prompt: A5: Stargate (replacing Truth Serum)

Title: Dreamling Abbey (epilogue)

Rating: G (Dreamling Abbey itself is M)

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Warnings: n/a

Additional Tags: Downton Abbey au, omegaverse, omega Dream, alpha hob

This is a third short addendum to my CHBB fic, Dreamling Abbey, which you can read on ao3 (mind tags), because Stargate SG-1 was one of my favourite shows back in the day. This is based on the opening scene of the 1994 movie though, and since I already had my Dream and Hob in Egypt in the 1920s, how could I resist?

The shouting and general excitement are what draws Dream down from their encampment to the excavation site proper. Balancing Aggie on one hip, he deftly navigates between the canvass covered stalls and the rickety wooden planks that criss-cross the pits and trenches on the ground to find his way to Hob. His husband is in the centre of the commotion, of course, broad brimmed hat pulled down low against the unforgiving glare of the Egyptian sun, and trusty notebook already in hand. 

Dream smiles to himself as he weaves through the growing crowd- his Hob, always where the action is! Dream spies Robyn and Orpheus as he walks and his smile grows more contented. Ever inseparable- and ever intrepid, even at just four and six- they are currently clambering amongst the detritus of the excavations, with a series of watchful eyes upon them. Aggie fidgets a bit in Dream’s arms, wanting to join her brothers’ fun, but she is too young yet to be let loose so Dream does his best to soothe her with his humming and jiggling until he reaches Hob. He immediately does his husbandly duty and relieves Dream of their daughter, who is thankfully distracted enough by tugging on her father’s beard to be  momentarily placated.

“What is going on?” Dream asks, shading his eyes with his hand and eying the commotion in the pit. 

“They’ve found something, love,” Hob answers “And it’s a bit… strange, by the looks of it.”

They watch on with interest as the workers scurry around, efficiently uncovering a large, circular object. Dream tilts his head as he watches the men lift away heavy hieroglyph-covered coverstones to reveal a hollow ring of grey…. Stone? He is not sure, it looks too smooth to be stone, but what metal could have lain buried for thousands of years? Surely these ancient people did not use or work with metal like this? The ring is divided into segments, and each segment contains a symbol.

“Those are not hieroglyphs?” he questions and out of the corner of his eye he sees Hob shake his head. He is writing furiously in his notebook- Pitman Shorthand that he and Dream had learned together- having been quickly relieved of Aggie by a helpful local, and looks excited.

“Definitely not,” he says. “Not sure what they are though. I’ve never seen anything like them. I wonder what they mean?” he looks up at Dream, eyes gleaming. “Nothing like a good mystery, is there, darling?”

***

Later, when the strange object has been fully uncovered and cleaned off, it is hauled into a standing position to be more closely examined. Dream, drawn by a feeling he can’t shake, returns with Hob to look at it again. They are allowed close, so well known by the team working here as to be practically family, and Dream reaches out to touch it curiously. He frowns. No, definitely not stone. A kind of metal, but not one he recognises. Certainly not iron or copper and steel would be absurd anyway.

“How curious this is,” he murmurs to Hob as his husband puts his arm around his waist. “It feels… very strange. I cannot put my finger on it, but it draws me in and repels me all at once.”

“Gives me the heebie jeebies a bit,” admits Hob, staring up at the ring. “This thing holds so many mysteries. I wonder what it was? And what happened here? It was clearly deliberately buried and  covered- no doubt the translators will be working feverishly on what the coverstones say- but it was so deep down, imagine the effort it must’ve taken those people… why’d they do it?”

“I want to know what these symbols mean,” Dream says, tracing one of them with his finger. It looked  like an unfinished triangle with a circle perched above its top point. “They fascinate me.”

“Well, could be a new project for you love. You and your ready mind. Not that Aggie will give you much time to concentrate, not now she’s getting her legs under her.”

Dream hums in agreement. “I should like that. I should like anyone to succeed. I feel like this thing has many secrets to reveal.”

“Well, with any luck we’ll live to see them.”

“Perhaps,” Dream touches the object again, traces light fingers over the patterns he can reach. “I feel like if a key could be found then this could unlock a great many adventures.”

[hughungrybear]

MY 2024 TUMBLR TOP 10

I was tagged by @telomeke in this post and I haven't done this so why not? 😭

Anyone who follows my dash knows that I mostly post vids and photos of interesting scenes from the series I'm currently watching.

So, here are my Top 2024 posts according to JetBlackCode

1.Aylin opens up her room to her favourite humans 😭 (from Episode 7, 23.5 the series)

2. It's when Jiang Tian shows he is not immune to Sheng Wang's slutty "Ge" 😂 (from Episode 9, The On1y One)

3. The time I read the original danmei and wanted to adopt Sheng Wang, just because 😭😭😭 (from Mou Mou, also known as The On1y One)

4. It's God having the purest devil thoughts in the land 😁 (from Episode 4, Monster Next Door)

5. Gao Tianyang asking the right questions 😂😂😂 (from Episode 7, The On1y One)

6. I mean, was I wrong to have this comment??? 😂😂😂 (from Episode 11, See Your Love)

7. There's oblivious, and then there's Teacher Bambam 🤣🤣🤣 (from Episode 9 preview, 23.5 the series)

8. Adoration done right (from Episode 3, Apple My Love)

9. DJ, please play I'm Still Into You by Paramore (from Episode 8, Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo)

10. Jack and Joke making us feel single in the wee hours of the night (or morning, depending on when you watched this lol) (from Episode 9, Jack & Joker)

Well, pretty sure I'm late to the party so tagging others might be a bit awkward now 😅😅😅 If you read this and want to play, consider yourself tagged.