#I hate them I need to smash them with rocks (affectionate)

[psiioniicarts]

“We can be friends forever.”

“…Then tell me again. If you really mean it…you’ll tell me one more time. Jonah…”

“…are you there?”

Remember when Jonah was pulled out the car and sounded like he was being choked? Teehee ❤️ anyway this may or may not take place in my AU…but it works for canon too. Feel free to interpret what you like.

[umbralstars]

Heya! For Seph? :D

3. What first drew you to this character?

4. Did you initially dislike/hate this character?

6. Do you have any nicknames or pet names you use for this character?

8. Does the character’s looks/design matter to you?

Oh this is perfect I needed a break from sketching. This is gonna be a long yap:

3.

Okay so this is a complicated one cause he's come in and out of my life. When I was a kid I got to play a really tiny bit of og FF7 on my cousin's PS1 and he scared me a little skdjf. But it was in a way where kid me was weirdly drawn to him...before Pokemon took over my life and I promptly forgot. I was tangentially aware of Sephiroth in pop culture (my first experience of Aerith's death was a YouTube top 10 video spoiling it for me skdjfh i don't remember what this video was but I was like ":0 he can do that??"; I think I also watched a video discussing his boss fight at one point where I got introduced to Seraph Sephiroth), Kingdom Hearts, and finding out of context clips of Advent Children, thinking his theme song was really cool, and generally finding pretty fan art. So it was 100% a deign thing for a long time. Smash cut to December 2020 where he's revealed for Smash Bros and idk what it was but Something happened in my brain. That trailer unlocked some kind of sleeper cell because Sephiroth was so damn cool that I was like "I Need to know what that's about for real this time." I took the winter break to play through all of OG after buying it on my Switch and I was Fascinated by Sephiroth (and the rest of the cast; dare-I-say this game is peak). I then went on, what I would lovingly say, a hyperfixation bender. Where I would watch an entire playthrough of Crisis Core (before Reunion came out; I have played it at this point), read every single novel and semi-canon writing from the devs I could find, read a lot of metas on Twitter and Tumblr (including Alto and others here; I was just too scared to interact cause I was more of a Tumblr lurker at the time), and also read a Lot of fanfics. I bought a whole PS5 just so I could play Remake cause I needed more. So to recap: it was mostly his design and how he scared and fascinated me. Then it was finding him so damn cool that I had to figure out more. I stuck around because he is one of the most fascinating characters I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing. In my mind he kinda fits in with the "humanoid dragon/animal/alien" and "divine characters which are gods or divine entities or treated as such in their narratives in some capacity but they are also Very Human" character boxes who are always my favorites. And the fact that he is such a villainous and malicious character who was once so gentle and kind (plus how I could go on a multi-page diatribe on his many narrative roles and relationships) makes me feel like I can only express how I feel about him if I start chewing on the walls.

4.

So as I stated above Sephiroth scared me as a kid skjdfh. In a very non-specific way, but the answer to this question is "No." I adore a good villain and he is one of the best; no notes. I do love seeing him lose tho it's very satisfying. To answer the reverse: I love a completely normal amount :)

6.

So "Seph" or "Sephi" is the obvious one but I do affectionately call him "Feathers" occasionally. In my Cloud file on Monster Hunter Rise I do have a Palico named "Kittyroth" so there's that too.

8.

Yes! I wouldn't spend as long as I do staring at his Remake design if I didn't love it to pieces. Being as it's what drew me to him in the first place I do think it's very important to me. He is so expertly designed. There's a reason he's iconic. But I think I focus on different parts of his design? The most important parts to me are: his silver hair (long or short; I think he looks good with both), cat/snake/dragon-like eyes (I like them being green more personally; but I think he also rocks blue when you do see that), and the generally dark/black color scheme broken up mostly by silver. I agree with Ever Crisis in that he looks good in purple and red. The long flowing coat and exposed chest is also a mix intimidating and funny and I think it's very important. I wouldn't have Sephiroth without there being something flowing in his design. Also his wing??? M'wah, perfection, Advent Children blessed us with that addition to his design and I agree with them tripling down on it. It completes him. It is a crucial part of his design. Another aside: I am so ready to see Seraph Sephiroth in part 3 I want it So Bad.

Thank you for the ask!

[dearest-kibble]

Strings like a noose

Im back babyyyyyyy (and considering moving to A03 cause i cannot run a blog) but have a quick little yandere toshinori! More will be coming either on my A03 or here. Thank you all for bearing with me!

Tw: Stalking (i think that's it but if you see anything else please let me know!)

Without a doubt, you have the worst quirk in the world. Sure other people might have something equally as mediocre; like small sound amplification or the ability to perfect cooking ratios or something like that. But at least those were useful - they did something. But no, your quirk had to get you kidnapped.

Your kidnapper’s honeyed voice likes to tell you how the strings hang like a noose ‘round his neck; beautiful scarlet - satin and silk, intricately laced. His voice sounds familiar but you can’t place it. Why couldn’t your quirk have been something about memory? The bag around your head isn’t uncomfortable, neither is the blindfold and your captor promised to take them both off some day but you don’t think it’s really all that true.

He talks to you sometimes, about other things than his love for you and your quirk. About his day mostly. About how he doesn’t want to blind you so you’re allowed to see sometimes. The only view you ever get is a clean, luxurious bathroom. It smells like the lilac shampoo he uses on your hair.

“I think the kids would like you.” As soon as the door opens the voice begins to speak. The cover is lifted from your head, blindfold still wrapped around your eyes. He starts rubbing your head with a large hand. He does this sometimes.

“I don’t think they’d like you much if I told them what you’re doing.”

“Don’t be like that sweet; they’d love the two of us.” The rubbing turns into affectionate knuckles digging into your skull not nearly enough to hurt but you can tell there's a measure of strength behind it. “They’d love you so much - they must be tired of me.”

“I’m tired of you.” The snarl in your voice elicits a laugh from the voice. It’s a little self deprecating. “Stupid useless quirk. Wish I was never born with it.”

“Seeing other’s connections is a beautiful thing darling! I bet you can help so many with it.”

“It’s so helpful it got me kidnapped.” Oh, that one stung.

“I’m just protecting you, you don’t know what’s out there, even I can’t say for sure and I’m-” “Spit it out already. I’m fucking tired of you being all mysterious. You what, stalked me, hunted me down or whatever? Just tell me who you are. It’s not like I can hate you any more than I already do.” He sighs, lower than you thought possible and you feel your hair suddenly stands on end and the electricity in the air. A meatier hand grazes your cheek for a second - he coughs and it’s back to the boney fingers you're more familiar with. You feel the nails, cut short on your skin as he tugs the blindfold and for the first time, you look upon the face of the man who kidnapped you. Mouth stretched thin, Shaggy golden hair limply framing a gaunt skeleton face with sunken bright blue electrifying eyes. He bears the strongest resemblance to someone you’ve seen and still you can’t place it. He’s malnourished looking as you take more of him in oversized shirts and baggy pants that clearly don’t fit right. He looks homeless quite honestly. Yet your surroundings are anything but. Well furnished, imported goods and very very comfortable looking.

“I was wrong. I think I hate you more now.” And that rings a little hollow to you because even if he kidnapped you, you feel a little sorry for him and his clearly malnourished body.

“Please; don’t be like that. Your quirk sees connections and if I am connected to you than-” All the sympathy you gave him dissipates as he brings up this tired old rhetoric.

“I don’t care. It’s a useless quirk anyway and you took me here against my will. Who are you, the phantom of the opera?” He chuckles at that one.

“No no, I want to protect you; the phantom wanted to own Christine. I could never own you; but protection? I can give you that.”

“In that shrink-wrapped body of yours? I could blow on you and you’d fall over.”

“You can do anything you want to me and I’d crumble.” He puts a hand around his neck. “Even if you don’t know it you need me, that’s why I’m connected to you.” He squeezes and steps closer.

“Stop getting closer.” You sound more panicked than you should, he’s had you for so long and done nothing to you. But you’d never seen how large he was; how wealthy he must be. He stops dead in his tracks.

“Whatever you want, love.” He smiles unthreateningly with blood in his teeth and his thin lips part to show a severely perfect smile before he covers his mouth with a hand and swallows. “I-I’ll get you some food.”

“Get my hands undone then. You’re not going to spoon feed me again. It’s humiliating.”

“Young Bakugou would really take a shine to you I think.”

“I hope he hates you too. You deserve it.”

“Quite the opposite in fact, they all look up to me - or used to. I was quite the charismatic teacher.” More self deprecation. You wondered a long time ago if it was a manipulation technique; but it seems far too ingrained in how he speaks.

“Stop bringing up how “likable” you are. It’s not gonna make me like you. I hate you more than I hate this useless quirk.”

“It doesn’t matter if you hate me.” He shuffles around his kitchen, “Normally I eat out, so you’ll have to forgive my lack of food.” He starts to cobble something together and starts again in his voice. “One of my other students would think your quirk is amazing, please don’t bring yourself down my love; your quirk is why we’re together.”

“And that’s supposed to be a good thing?” He ignores you.

“Once I undo your bindings, you’ll be free to go wherever you want, it was just after the… relocation… I needed to make sure no one could find you. Not that they could keep me from you, I‘ll always know where you are.” He turns on the stove. “It’s such a beautiful quirk, made for love, my love.” He turns, eyes staring into you with blank kindness and shambles towards you on emaciated legs.

“Sto-” The smile on his face widens and widens as you try to speak but fail. “Please..” Another almost breath you let escape. He stands in front of you, hunching so his spine pushes against the back of his shirt, sharp chin digging into the crown of your head. His arms snake around your waist clammy and jutting into your side like rocks. You feel like they weigh you down — into an early grave where someone has already been buried. With that strength that was present earlier he takes a hold of your wrists and pulls. The tape snaps but you hardly feel free.

“You're free to go wherever you want now. Just so long as you come back every night. I’ll get you whatever you need and do whatever you need me too.” It takes you a while to compose your breath but you're sure he’s felt you struggle to catch your breath. So many times.

“But I’m not free to go wherever I want! You always know where I am.” Your hands find their way to your head, digging into your scalp. “How do I know you won’t follow me. You stalked me before you’re gonna do it again.” He’s still hugging you - frozen in place growing colder by the second and coughs. One hand leaves your back and up to his mouth. Pulling away he speaks.

“I’m not always going to be here,” He holds up his hand, mouth open - it never closes - in a grimace. His hand and chin are dripping with blood. “But while I am, I want to do the best I can for you. And what better way than knowing where you always are? I am here. Fear not for anything.” The other hand from your back works it’s way up gently to your head once again petting you. “You can’t see the strings connected to you, right?” You can’t respond anymore, you feel like he’s just smashed your guts. You want to vomit. “They’re beautiful. It’s because you’re beautiful and so is your quirk. I love everything about you.” He sighs deeply and tries to pull your hand from your head “Maybe it’s because I’m supposed to. Maybe I just have the need to protect or help.” He whispers a small ‘I want to save someone again.’ You pretend for your own sake that you don’t hear it. “But whatever the reason, never doubt,” He presses a kiss to your forehead and his fingers filter through your hair, pressing your head to his lips.

“A-all Mi-” He pulls away and rests a finger gently over your lips.

“Shh. I am here.”

[fanmoose12]

a small thing i've written, a companion piece to the devil you know. doesn't really takes place during the timeline of that fic, but i just liked the idea so much (thanks @unrelenting-jazz-hands smh) that still decided to write it! slight nsfw ahead!

If that was one of Armin's jokes, it was a terrible one.

Watch over him while I figure out what to do, he said, as though Levi could look at that monster without feeling like running through something - or better yet, someone- with a sword.

"Can I ask you a personal question, Captain?" the beast asked from his place inside the cell. Levi answered him with a deadly glare that Zeke simply ignored. He was getting too comfortable around him, the bastard.

"I know you and Professor Hange had quite a history, but I’ve always wondered…" the fucker smirked, and Levi's hands instinctively curled into fists. "Was it strictly platonic? If so, I must say it’s quite a loss on your part. She’s very good in bed."

Levi reacted instantly.

The asshole stood too close to the bars that separated them. Big mistake. Levi grabbed him by the collar, bringing the beast down to his eye level. Zeke choked, his eyes open wide.

"You think our so called alliance means something to me? I’ve agreed to keep you alive, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you. And if I hear her name coming out of your shitty mouth one more time, beast, you'll be gathering your bones all over this cell. I hope I made myself clear enough. I hate repeating the obvious."

He threw him on the ground, and the sight of Zeke looking so miserable with his ass on the floor almost lifted his sour mood.

Almost because the fucker's words were still ringing in his ears.

He had no reason to care, she certainly didn't, but god, did Zeke's words strike a chord. He needed... he needed to take a deep breath. Clear his head, get his thoughts into order.

He marched out of the murky dungeon, leaving Zeke's cell behind.

Subconsciously, because his mind was his biggest offender, so very soon Levi found himself standing in front of another cell.

Jean was inside, discussing something with her in hushed tones.

This almost made him stop - the hell Kirshtein was doing there? Didn't he use to despise her? Wasn't he the one who shouted 'fucking betrayer' the loudest?

Didn't matter, not now. Now the only thing that mattered—

"Get out, Kirshtein," he yanked the boy upwards, his eyes never leaving those deep brown ones.

"Captain—"

"Get. Out." he growled. "And make sure no one comes in here. I need to have a chat with our prisoner. A very long one. "

"Captain, I—"

"Hurry up, Kirshtein," he reminded, shifting his gaze for a second to glare at him.

Jean seemed unsure, Jean seemed scared, but he didn't dare to disobey.

He threw a cautious look to Hange, and she gave him a kind smile, silently telling him that she had everything under control.

It was cute of her to think this way. It was also very wrong.

All thirty two seconds it took Jean to leave the dungeons, Levi didn't take his eyes of her. Hange stared right back, completely unsuspecting. Or, maybe - more probably - daring beyond realms of sanity.

As soon as he heard the door closed, Levi moved. He lifted her from the chair she was sitting on, slamming her hips against the table. The old wood creaked, and somewhere at the back of his mind he wondered if the shitty furniture would break under their weight. Even if it did, it wasn't enough to make him stop.

He grabbed the back of her head, burying his fingers in her hair, and kissed her. The kiss was rough, aggressive and deep. Hange answered with the same vigor, pulling him even closer.

It shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. But having her back in his arms made him feel whole.

The place, where she had put her hands, burned. Her touch was just as intoxicating, just as invigorating as he remembered. It almost made him forget. It made pretending almost possible.

If he just turned off the sensible part of his brain, he could pretend that everything was fine. They weren't making out on a rackety table in a dusty dungeon inside a prison cell where Hange was put for betraying them.

No, they were in her room, and he had come to distract Hange away from work and catch up on all the time they’ve been too busy to see each other.

Gripping her waist tighter, he could almost pretend that he was angry at her for making him feel neglected, not betraying him and having his heart ripped out and smashed into million pieces.

"Does he make you feel so good?" he demanded to know, moving down to bite at the spot he knew made her tremble.

"Wh- what-"

She was already stuttering, already breathing hard against him. Good, he was almost satisfied.

But after four years of trying to hate and despise her, after four years of yearning for her, he needed more.

"Does he?" he repeated, taking his lips of her for a second to stare into her eyes.

"No," Hange breathed out. With fingers that had no right to be so gentle, she cradled his face. "No one made me feel as good as you did, Levi."

Fuck.

He wanted to hate her, he thought he did, but just the sound of his voice on her lips, and he was coming undone.

"Say it again," he whispered, his voice muffled by her shoulder. He meant for it to come out as an order. It sounded more like a plea instead.

"What?" she asked, her fingers softly playing with his hair.

"My name," he closed his eyes. Her scent, her touch, her voice - it was all too much. "Say it again."

"Levi," Hange kissed him, starting with his lips then moving lower, forcing him to throw back his head and press his lips together. "Levi," she murmured against the skin of his neck. "Le-"

He didn't let her finish. His lips on hers prevented it. It was time to take some of the control back.

He straddled her hips, making a slight rocking motion.

Hange reacted to it instantly. "Levi."

The way she moaned it - it was enough to make him moan too.

"God, I missed this," she hummed, as he nipped at her neck.

Levi froze, moving up to look her in the eyes. "You did?" the question stumbled from his lips before he could stop himself.

He knew Hange most certainly didn't mean it. People tended to say stupid things during heat of the moment. It wasn't love that put those words out, it was lust. And as a child of a prostitute, raised in underground brothel, he knew very well that those things didn't always overlap.

Certainly not in their case.

"Of course, I did," Hange answered. She tugged at his hair, stopping him from sucking a hickey on her collarbone. She made him look at her, and what he saw on her face was enough to break his heart for the thousandth times. Hange looked... Hange looked sincere. Hange looked like she meant it. Hange looked... Like she cared about him. "I missed you, Levi," she murmured, curving her lips in a smile.

It was the first smile he had seen on her face ever since she had left. The sight of it left him more breathless than their previous activities.

And they call us devils, he thought.

If he was the devil, then she was a witch.

How else to explain her ability to bewitch him like this?

He pushed her down onto the table, pressing her to the hard surface. Hange didn't seem to mind the rough treatment, if her moans and whimpers were any indication.

His hands roamed over her body, touching in all the right places, spots that made her even more desperate.

His name tumbled from her lips over and over again, making him dizzy.

He left bruises and bite marks whenever he touched. She wasn't his, never was, but, god, pretending that she was was extremely addicting.

Hange wasn't gentle as well. She grabbed, bit and sucked whatever part of skin Levi had allowed her to.

"Tell me, Levi," she left a wet kiss on his cheek, moving to his ear. "Did you do it with someone else while I was away?"

Witch.

He pushed her down again, flipping her over and pressing her face into the table.

"Shut your fucking mouth, Hange," he growled, covering her body with his. He grabbed her wrists, keeping them together. "Don't you dare to move."

Hange, like a fucking psycho she always pretended to be, started laughing.

"Levi!" she moaned, as he bit down on her shoulder. "We should do this more often!"

"This is the last time, four-eyes," he promised, subconsciously using the old, affectionate nickname.

Hange laughed again, turning her head around to give him a sly, knowing look.

"The last fucking time," he repeated.

He came back the very next day.

[vanillasakura]

@magnoliacqffee and I were discussing some Sean and Karen headcanons last night, and they’re just so adorable I had to share them. They’re a bit of a mix between modern and canon-compliant, but these two are so great together who really cares, y’know? (Bonus NSFW at the end as well!)

Canon-Compliant (But everything is happy)

Sean would light his farts on fire and Karen would watch and laugh

Whenever Karen’s feeling down, she’d rest her head on Sean’s shoulder and just let herself exist with him. Doesn’t matter if John and Arthur are pissing each other off five feet away, in that moment, the only two people that exist are her and Sean

Sean is a huge swooner, and his favorite thing ever is kissing Karen. Not just in a passionate and intimate way, but specifically light, chaste kisses that he can give her again and again and again. Whenever she has enough, he’ll pout but let her have her way. He’s gonna kiss her again soon, anyhow

Nothing has the power to make Sean happy like resting his head on Karen’s chest and being held by her. He’s a total boob guy, and would often fall asleep with his head sandwiched between her boobs

Sean is a horrible dancer, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to take the lead when dancing with Karen. It never works out very well, and she ends up showing him how it’s done, and eventually, the two of them can waltz without Sean stepping on her toes

Sometimes, very rarely, Karen will sleep in one of Sean’s shirts. This only happens when the two of them are in his tent, but it doesn’t stop Sean from feeling himself fall in love with her all over again at the simple sight of it

They love doing each other’s hair

After the gang breaks up, they get a house not far from Beecher’s Hope, and host parties all the time. They have lots of open space and love having people over

Their house is by a field, and sometimes, Sean will stand in it, pretending to be a scarecrow to see how long it will take Karen to notice, claiming that he’s been cursed and needs a kiss to be able to move again. He’ll call her a crow if she refuses to come over

Their house is full of lots of little things they’ve found along the way, and isn’t dirty or messy at all, just seems a little cluttered. Sean in particular hates throwing things away, so they have little boxes of bottlecaps and cigarette cards stored all over the main room of the house

Sean would be paramount in helping Karen recover from her alcoholism. (Assuming that she starts drinking much heavier not because of his death, but because of mounting tensions in the gang.) He’d distract her whenever she feels the urge coming on, and if she did end up drinking, she’d feel horrible, crying because she “failed him.” Sean would hold her close and kiss her tears away and rock her side to side in his lap, telling her that he knows it’s hard, but he’s always here for her, and that they’re gonna get through this. He treats Karen’s problems like his own, and will do whatever it takes to help her

Both of them sleep hot, but unfortunately for them, Sean is a huge cuddle bug and will not sleep unless he is holding Karen or she is holding him. He’ll even reach out for her in his sleep, and pull her flush against him. It’s not very comfortable, downright miserable during the summer when they often wake up in a pool of sweat, but they learn to handle it. 

Modern

Their house would have whoppee cushions all over the place. Call it juvenile as much as you want, Grimshaw, but both of them are “farts are funny” people. The first time you go over all hell would break loose, but just because you’ve since learned to look before you sit doesn’t mean it would end. Karen would distract you with something while Sean would work on placing the cushion where you were sitting, and when you do sit on it they would both laugh and high-five

Going off of @ttuesday ‘s headcanon that Karen would be obsessed with GTA V, especially GTA Online, because it’s so accurate it hurts. Sean would love watching her play and would ask her to do completely random things. “Can you shoot a hooker for me” “Can you bomb a movie theatre” “Can you steal a helicopter” “Can you rob a convenience store” He’d be convinced Karen is the best at video games and nobody can surpass her, and anytime she shows him evidence that proves otherwise he would go “they just got lucky”

They’d both start playing Fortnite ironically but it would quickly become unironic. They’d talk each other out of buying skins and the battle pass. They’d also try and get Jack interested but Jack wouldn’t find the game fun and would end up reading while the two of them are getting, in Sean’s words “crispy dubs”

Sean has ADHD. This point is not up for debate as I also have it and can spot somebody with it a mile away. He would solely stim on Karen, his favorite thing would be tapping his fingers on her arms and playing with her curls. Every time he lightly pulls a curl he would go “boing” under his breath, and Karen would find it adorable. They’d literally be at Arthur’s place and Sean would be tapping away on Karen and Arthur would ask if it bothered her, but Karen would just shrug, she’s so used to it she hardly notices anymore, and she also secretly adores it

Sean would use Money Machine as a copy pasta and send it to Karen all the time. She’d send him a selfie or whatever and he would literally respond with the lyrics to Money Machine. He also uses it as a “verbal copy pasta”, where something happens and he just... says the lyrics to Money Machine

Sean and Karen would be the best at Just Dance. Javier would film their dance battles all the time and it would be epic to witness

They’d both play Smash to deal with stress, and have hosted some amazing Smash Parties in the past

Karen would affectionately refer to Sean as “her little sussy”

Their song would be Karen, You’re an Angel by Sleeping in the Aviary

Sean would have two ways of waking Karen up: A.) Kissing her face until she opens her eyes, him asking in a whisper how she slept, or B.) Airhorn. It’s usually always the first option, though

Sean would send Karen this image:

NSFW

Let’s get it out of the way: Sean is a quickshot, even when he’s sober. He always makes sure Karen gets hers though, he loves eating her out and if him finishing quickly is an excuse to do it, then it’s not that bad, right?

Sean could spend hours playing with Karen’s boobs. He can’t think of anything more attractive in the entire world

Speaking of, both of them have very sensitive nipples, and both of them use this to their advantage. They have 100% both come before just by rubbing their chests together

Neither of them are usually very serious during sex, and they almost always crack a joke or laugh during the do. It’s more fun that way, after all!

[penaltbox]

no promises - cole caufield

here’s a little fic that i’m actually pretty proud of and i owe so much credit to @puckyess​ for always helping me get these ideas rolling. if you like it let me know! feedback and reblogs are much appreciated!

word count: ~5.9k

__

The image of the gold chain he always wore dances behind your closed eyelids for the third night in a row. You swear you can hear his ragged breath in your ear, his mumbled profanities mingling with the gasps you let out when he checks to make sure you’re still okay, and the brief mentions of something gone wrong during the game. It’s like he’s right there, pushing you both closer to a release of emotions that you played no part in aggravating. You’re ready to lose it when you shoot up in bed, your phone lit up on the side table next to you with a notification. You take a deep breath and steady yourself, not even realizing that you’d fallen asleep. You rub your hand over your face and grab the device to check who was contacting you at such a late hour. You had a feeling you knew who…

‘Speak of the devil’, you thought as you unlocked your screen and tapped on his message. You realize then that it’s just past one o’clock in the morning and you connect the dots that he’d probably just gotten back from their trip to Ohio State. 

‘come over’

Never a please. Never a ‘would you like to’. Never a doubt that you wouldn’t do exactly what he asked of you.

And you had yet to prove him wrong. You slip out from under your covers quickly, grabbing some clothes and sneaking into your bathroom with your fingers crossed that your roommate wouldn’t hear you. You shower quickly and shave, slipping on the lace underwear that he’d probably hardly notice and some comfy clothes before brushing your teeth and heading for the door.

“Where are you going?” Your roommate asks, head peeking over the back of the couch as you jump in surprise. She was rarely up late, but of course, some west coast hockey game had kept her up well past her bedtime on that night of all times. You were so wrapped up in your own thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed the TV still on when you walked out.

“Uhm, nowhere,” you lie, knowing she’ll see right through you, “I’ll be back tonight though.”

She sighs and turns back around, “you know he’s just going to hurt you.”

And that… that was probably true, but it’s something you refuse to think about in that moment. Instead, you slip your shoes on and grab your keys, heading out just as suddenly as his request had come in. You made a half-hearted mental note that this needed to be the last time you did this.

__

You hate how quickly you get to his place but you can’t help it. It’s like second nature at this point and you could get there on autopilot if needed. Some nights it felt just like that but tonight you had a weird buzzing under your skin. It wasn’t like you were doing this for the first time or anything. Far from it, in fact. You try to brush the feeling off as nerves and stop two doors down from his actual apartment, sending him a text that you’d arrived, just like he always asked you to do. 

It takes a few minutes but his head pops out of the door suddenly and he smirks, “about time.”

You roll your eyes playfully and walk towards him, leaning in to kiss his cheek before making your way towards his bedroom. Brock barely spares you a glance from the couch, focusing his eyes on the TV as he watches the replay of the game your roommate had caught earlier. You blush and turn towards Cole’s room, but manage to catch Brock telling Cole to keep it down in a less than pleased voice. 

You ignore it and make your way into Cole’s room, peeking out the window at the city below that was much quieter than you were used to with it being such a late hour. 

“Miss me?” He calls from behind you, catching your attention.

You turn and find him still donning the smirk he’d formed when he first saw you that night, “wouldn’t you love to know.”

He scoffs a little and you watch his demeanor start to shift. Cole never called because he wanted to see you. No, it was more that he needed you to be there. Cole had a short temper ever since getting to Wisconsin. He found himself easily agitated and regularly frustrated at how his game had gone from smooth and easy with the NTDP to always struggling with the Badgers. 

And then one night he met you. He didn’t mean to start hooking up with you but you knew enough about hockey that he could talk about what went wrong if he wanted to, but you also knew when you just let him have his turn to get his frustrations out. His mouth turns down in a scowl as he locks his bedroom door and closes the gap between you two. His stare is constant and you feel your cheeks heat up almost instantly. He had control over you that you’d never given up to anyone and it made for addictingly good sex. 

“This last game sucked,” he mumbles, backing you against the wall and resting a hand on your hip. He’s so close you can feel his warm breaths as he seems to disconnect from the world suddenly. 

He goes silent but you don’t need any other explanation. You’d watched the game and saw he got his shit rocked on a couple different occasions. You would bet there was a bruise somewhere under his clothes that you’d be finding in no time. 

He presses his lips roughly against yours as his free hand comes around your waist, holding you tight against him. His hand slides up from your hip and slips under your shirt until he gets up to your bra… or where it should be. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, pulling back and lifting your battered Wisconsin crew neck over your head, “no bra? I love it.”

Your heart stalls a little at the l-word, not expecting him to say that. You don’t get time to react though as he kisses you again, slower this time, and angles you over towards the bed. He lets you fall back on it and you smile, reaching a hand out for him. He takes it, giving you a grin back that makes the buzzing under your skin worsen. 

Cole was always different once he got you in his room. He didn’t say much when you got there or left, but when it was just the two of you? He was all hands on. He was vocal; he checked in on you, he praised you, and he always made sure you finished. But he never looked at you when he did. 

He’s quick to shed his own clothes and tug your joggers off, wasting no time as his lips found as much skin as they could. He left a couple marks, but not anywhere they’d be visible. You did your best to keep up, gripping his shoulders as you rolled your hips up against his. 

He’s settled into you and creating a pace before he says another word, his tone strained as he says, “can’t believe that goal didn’t count. Fuck that ref. We hardly got enough chances on net. Shit, I’m getting close, baby.”

“Just a little longer,” you squeak, digging your nails into his back as the pet name rolled through your thoughts. He never called you by name during sex. It was a red flag that stood tall but you still ignored it every time it happened. 

You could feel every failed play in the way he moved. You knew there were missed shots and poor passes that resulted in them losing. You watch the wheels turn in his head as he holds you down just a little harder, blunt nails digging into your skin. His left bites the skin above your collarbone and you know it’ll leave a mark but it still pulls an obscene noise from your lips. 

He presses his forehead into the crook of your neck, lips melting against your warm skin. He slips a hand down to help you along and it works much faster than you expected. You hated how he knew what would make your body react fastest as you tumble to your end. You try to catch your breath below him, knowing the hold he had on your hip would leave bruises. It usually did. He rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling for a couple minutes when he’s done. 

He looks over at you, the corner of his lips just slightly pulled up, “are you good?”

“I’m good,” you laugh, still a little out of breath, “just don’t make me stand up right this second. My legs feel like jello.”

“Deal,” he laughs, letting his hand slide over, hooking your pinkies together in the small space between the two of you. 

Once you finally feel up for it you slide out of his warm bed, grabbing your clothes and sliding them back on. Cole pulls sweatpants on and waits until you’re ready before walking you out. He stops at his own door first though and leans down, giving you a much more gentle kiss than the first that night. He lets you both linger, arms wrapped around each other, and leans his forehead on yours when he finally separates his mouth from yours. 

“I’ll see you next time?” He asks, but you both know the answer. 

“Yeah, of course.”

His demeanor turns back to friendly versus affectionate as he walks you to the front door. You notice that Brock is no longer taking up space on the couch and you feel embarrassed when you think of what he must have heard. 

Cole tells you goodbye, but there’s no hug and definitely no kiss this time around. He watches until you get safely into the elevator and leaves you with a nod of his head. You really wondered why you stuck around but when you remember the last kiss he’d given you, you can’t help but press your fingers to your lips as the buzzing under your skin heightens again. 

—

You watch the time tick down off the clock, wincing when you watch Cole smash his stick off the wall at the buzzer. They’d gotten destroyed by Minnesota and you already knew what type of mood he was in. The announcers make comments on the bad attitudes the Badgers were toting, mentioning multiple things they’d done wrong that night. You mute them but leave the feed running just in case they interviewed someone you’d want to hear from. 

It was a home game so there was no flight to wait for but you had a good feeling you’d be getting a text in an hour or two so you moved from the couch to your bathroom, not wanting to make him wait with how he was acting already. 

As soon as you wrap the fluffy towel around your body and tap the screen you see three messages waiting from Cole and one from a number you didn’t have saved. You frown and open it quickly, tapping the unknown number first. 

‘Hey it’s Brock. Sorry if this is weird but the doors unlocked and I’m gone for the night so deal with my brother please and thanks’

You laugh a little, knowing he must be way more worked up than you expected. ‘What a shit show this is going to be’, you think to yourself. You skim Cole’s messages next that range from ‘come over’ to ‘I’m dead serious get over here’. You’re about to type out a response when his contact pops up on your screen. He’d never called before. 

“Hello?” You answer, brow furrowed in confusion. 

“Why are you ignoring me? Get over here,” He grits out, sounding so tense your jaw drops a little. 

You sigh, tucking the phone between your shoulder and cheek as you hurry to your room to grab clothes, “I am, I promise. I was just in the shower.”

“We don’t make promises, remember? The front door is open when you get here.”

You’re about to tell him you knew that but the line goes dead, leaving you to stare at the blank screen in your hand. You’re baffled at the attitude he was projecting onto you but you get your things together anyways and finish getting ready. ‘

You don’t hurry to his place this time, knowing he was on edge either way, but you still get there in under 20 minutes from when he’d called. You bite your lip as you try the door handle, finding it unlocked just like both Caufield boys had said. You take a deep breath and walk in, locking the door behind you

“Cole?” you call out, looking around the small space. He’s not in the kitchen or living room so you head down the hall. His room is dark, leaving you confused, but then you hear the shower. You tap on the door and peek your head in, “Cole?”

His head pops out from around the corner, a frown so prominent his forehead was creasing. It eases off his face a little when he locks eyes on you as he calls for you, “will you come here? Get in with me.”

Your face heats quickly. You’d never done something so intimate with him and you were wondering if it was really the best idea. Your skin starts to get that all-too-familiar buzz under it now and you were starting to think it was permanent around him. 

“Are you sure? I just took one and I don’t mind waiting in your room until you’re done.”

He sighs, pouting a little, “please.”

You really wished you had more willpower in that moment but when it came to him you just didn’t. You nod and make your way into the small room, striping your clothes off as he watched. It makes you feel so much more exposed than usual but somehow it’s not uncomfortable. You push him back gently as you go to step in, smiling a little.

“You better make room if you want me in here,” you tease, putting your hair up in a bun to keep it dry.

Cole smirks and pulls you into him, eyes still scanning your body, “I’ll do whatever you ask.”

You snort at that and roll your eyes, “we both know that’s a lie. You’re the one who calls the shots around here.”

He’s silent for a moment before he smirks and leans down, kissing you hard. He bites gently on your bottom lip, much to your surprise, and lets a hand trail down the side of your thigh. He looks like he’s up to no good when he pulls back, making you let out a little laugh. You knew when you were in trouble with him. 

“Let’s see what it’s like in the shower. I bet you sound amazing in here,” he says, his tone low enough to make you shiver a bit. You didn’t hate the idea. You were pretty sure anywhere the two of you chose would be worth your time, but the bathroom was… well lit. He’d see every inch of you and you were pretty sure he hadn’t yet.

“Are you sure?” you check in, half hoping he’ll change his mind for some reason. 

“Yeah I’m sure. I think it’ll be fun,” he nods, but stops when he notices your hesitation, “unless you’re not cool with it?”

“No! I’m okay with it! I just was thinking we’ve never really done anything with so much, you know, light and stuff,” you blush, looking down at your feet then and feeling a little silly for your admission. 

Cole reaches out to tilt your chin back up towards him, “I’ll let you call this shot.”

And you agree. You end up losing your footing a couple times, he has to hold your waist almost always, and you can’t help but laugh at the awful noises that are being made at an awful volume in the tiled area. It’s simultaneously the worst yet most fun sex the two of you had dealt with yet. It takes longer than normal to finish for you both so you’re exhausted by the time you both lean on each other to catch your breath. 

“Wonder what time it is by now,” you mumble, cheek pressed against his chest as you hug his waist tight. 

He looks down and leans to kiss your forehead so gently you can’t breathe suddenly, “probably pretty late. Did you just want to spend the night?”

You sigh and try to step away but his arms hold you tightly in place. You give him a look, trying to remind him that you both know better than to even think about doing that. This was still just a hookup. Or at least it was supposed to be. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you sigh, leaning your cheek back onto his chest to listen to his heartbeat rather than catching his stare. 

“You’re right,” he agrees, but he doesn’t sound very convincing. 

He carefully slips from your arms and out of the shower, grabbing his own towel before searching for an extra for you. He shuts the shower off and wraps the towel tightly around you, giving you another forehead kiss. He was really pushing boundaries for the night and you were struggling to keep saying no. 

You both dress in silence, but it’s far from awkward. You can see the tension is gone in his shoulders and he just looks exhausted now. You’re still determined to leave and keep things casual, but if you weren’t, you’d have him wrapped in your arms in his bed while you played with his hair. Luckily, or maybe not, you’d never know that was struggling not to think of the same thing. 

He catches you by surprise yet again that night when he kisses you at the front door. He usually played it cool and acted unattached in any of the common spaces but tonight was much different. You had so many thoughts in your head from the way he was treating you and you knew you needed to go. 

A quick goodbye and one more fast kiss, or you wouldn’t leave, and you were walking a little quicker than usual to the elevator. Maybe it was time to start telling him no. You laugh at your own thoughts immediately. You were way too gone for him to ever do that.

—

‘Let me know when you land and I’ll get ready’

You stare at the words that you’d texted, wondering if you blacked out when you sent them. You can’t take it back, unfortunately, and you’re left with the gnawing feeling that you shouldn’t have done it. Cole was always the one to ask you over. 

“You sent him what?” Your roommate asks, her eyes wide as she leans over your shoulder to read it, “oh my god, are you in love with him or something?”

“What? No!” You yell back, but truthfully you weren’t sure about that, “I just figured I’d check in with him first? I don’t know, I guess I just thought I’d get the ball rolling earlier today.”

Your face feels hot to the touch as you press your hand against your cheek. You know you must look like a lost puppy because your roommate wraps her arms around you immediately, rubbing your back soothingly. 

“Just be careful, okay? I know you have fun when you’re with him, but boys suck. You can’t trust him.”

You swallow hard and nod, knowing she was telling the truth. You nod as a silent agreement and tell yourself you need to start pulling away. It’s not that you want to. You always enjoy being with Cole. It’s more that you need to. 

Cole turns his phone on once the flight lands. A few messages popping up right away. He’s about to ignore them all when he sees your name ding on the screen right before he can lock it. He feels a little tug in his chest as he reads the words you’d sent him. He tries to shrug the feeling off but the smack on his shoulder grounds him more than anything. 

Brock stares at him, an almost knowing look on his face, “is that who I think it is? I thought you were the one who always reached out first.”

“I mean, I usually am. This is a first,” Cole says, looking back down at the message that has his face quickly turning up in a smile. 

“You know this isn’t a good idea,” Brock mumbles as he gives his little brother a side eye, “when are you going to stop playing with her emotions and make a decision? Because it sure looks like you’re getting your own feelings involved at this point, too.”

“I’m sure she just sent it because she knows by now. We practically have a routine at this point so she’s really not out of line or anything,” Cole justifies, starting to type out a message right away.

Brock laughs a little before standing to get off the plane, “just don’t come crying to me when things go wrong because you two wouldn’t talk about things and one of you ends up heartbroken. Or both of you.”

Cole sighs and tries to shake off the words from his brother because honestly, he knew what Brock was saying was the truth. He’d always said he wasn’t going to get into anything serious because everything until the NHL was just a short-term stay. He hadn’t listened to that rule in high school though and so far he was having a hard time listening to it at college as well. Despite the advice from his brother he texts you back, wanting to just go with what made him feel good. 

‘Don’t be late’

He throws a winking emoji on at the end, quickly softening the formerly demanding message. You nearly choke on your own breath when it comes in on your phone. You’d spent the last half hour pacing your apartment and overthinking the worst case scenarios that could come from your choice to text him first. You’re surprised that he’s so casual about it, if you’re being honest, but you chalk it up to it being a routine thing that you guys did after his games. It’s all you need to hear though and you finish getting ready while trying not to think too hard about what it meant that you were both showing a desire to be together. 

Cole barely drops his backpack down in his room when his phone lights up. He smiles subconsciously and opens your message as he’s walking back towards the front door. Brock happens to be walking in the opposite direction and gives Cole a solid shove on his shoulder, mumbling something about how soft Cole was getting. He ignores the comment and pulls the front door open quickly, looking over at you.

“Well look who it is. Get over here,” he says, directing his smile at you.

You blush when you see how happy he looks and it makes your stomach flutter. That couldn’t be a good sign, but you can’t help it. You walk over and lean in, testing to see where the boundaries were that day. He leans down easily, kissing you gently, and making your brain go haywire. He’d never done that in the common space. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours and giving a little squeeze as he takes the familiar path to his room. You were pretty sure you could walk the apartment with your eyes closed by now and you mark another little red flag in your head. They were tallying up faster and faster lately.

“You split the series, huh?” you ask, needing to break the silence with something to stop your thoughts from scrambling any longer.

Cole grins back at you, “yeah, they were decent so I’m glad we got that first win yesterday. Is that what it takes to get you to text first? A split?”

You can hear the teasing in his voice and it makes you blush, leaning your forehead on his arm, “stop, I thought you were back already. I didn’t mean to text early.”

He laughs, kissing your forehead and shutting the door behind him, “it’s okay. I didn’t mind it. We do kind of have that routine by now.”

“Yeah, we kind of do, huh? I just didn’t want to step over any lines with it,” you mumble, looking down where your hands are still connected.

“You didn’t,” he says quietly, grabbing your other hand and putting them on the back of his neck so he can wrap his arms around your waist, “don’t be afraid to do it again.”

You can’t form any words, opting to give him a little nod as your fingers play with the curls at the nape of his neck instead. He kisses you then and it takes your breath away. It feels like more than the ones you’d had before and maybe that was from his confession that he didn’t mind hearing from you whenever you pleased, but it’s a lot. In fact, the whole night is a lot.

He takes his time once he lays you down, picking you apart and finding every soft spot on your body. It isn’t rushed and aggressive like the hook ups usually were and you both were well aware of what you were doing. You even take a chance, tracing a bruise on his side with kisses to see if he’d let you. Usually he took charge and did things his way, but he lets you do what you want, making him whine and squirm like you’d never seen. You’re both exhausted by the time you’re done. You’d spent time, and for once, a lot of emotion on each other that wasn’t how things used to be. He pulls you against his chest after as he gently dances his fingers up and down your back.

“Same thing next weekend?” he jokes, getting a laugh out of you instantly. The sound makes the tug in his chest come back and he tries to push it away.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you say and pretend to think about it, “what if I have other plans or you guys win both games?”

“Why don’t you text first again and we’ll see what happens?” 

You bite your lip and start to sit up, knowing you needed to leave before you got too tired or lost your willpower to tell him no. Cole frowns immediately and you catch the look right away, teasing him, “you aren’t so tough after all, are you, Caufield?” 

“Just stay,” he says, his tone low enough to make your stomach flip as he catches your wrist, “you already broke your rules once today. Do it again.”

You toss the idea around in your head, knowing this would go much farther than it should. It would step over so many lines, but your composure wasn’t very good around him anymore. You nod, leaning down to kiss him before settling back against his chest. He wraps his arms around you and kisses your temple. You hate how happy you feel with him as you remember all the red flags he’d given you in the past. You close your eyes and just try to relax. Next time you’d discuss what was going on. That was one promise you wanted to keep for yourself.

__

You and Cole go silent for the rest of the week after spending the night, but that was normal. You two didn’t talk any other time and you didn’t reach out unless it was after a game to sleep together. Still it manages to nag at you and you kick yourself. You caught feelings. You should have known better and cut things off weeks ago when you’d first started to get butterflies. Now it was too late and you knew you needed to have the ‘what is this’ talk with him sooner rather than later. You couldn’t keep wasting your time on someone who wasn’t going to stick around. You manage to make it through the week without reaching out to him, saving the interaction in case they lost their games that weekend and you’d inevitably hear from him then. 

Except they win.

Except he texts you immediately after the game with a message you’d never gotten from him.

‘Can we talk tonight?’

Your heart hammers in your chest as you read the four words over and over and over again. They’re burned into your memory by the time you look up, realizing your eyes had begun to tear up. You knew you needed to talk but you weren’t ready for the request to come from him. You send back a thumbs up emoji, not knowing how to string together any words that would make sense. You go on autopilot after that as you play through every possible situation that could come from this. 

Realistically it could either go really well or really poorly. He could say he also had feelings for you and that he wanted to make things work. Or, the worst option, he could tell you he didn’t have any feelings and he was done hooking up for good. You run through both options until your mind goes static and you have to force yourself out of the shower that’s run cold from being in it so long. You go through the motions of getting yourself to his place and sending the ‘here’ message that was customary at this point.

When he opens the door he doesn’t give you a smile, but waves you over. Neither of you go for a kiss and the air feels heavy around you both. It does nothing to calm your nerves or the churning in your stomach. You knew you weren’t there for a hookup that night, that much was obvious. It’s Brock standing in the living room that surprises you most. You catch his gaze and the soft, almost apologetic, smile he gives you sends you into overdrive. What the hell was going on?

With a hand on the small of your back, Cole ushers you towards the one room that usually offered privacy and relief, but this time it looked like a death sentence prison cell. His hand feels hot on your back and not in the good way that it used to. You lean against his desk when you get in there, immediately crossing your arms across your chest to get away from him. He shuts the doors softly and shoves his hands in his pockets as he stands in front of you. He still has his game suit on, minus the jacket, and you let yourself look. He looks ridiculously handsome and you commit the image to memory, having a feeling this was the one and only time you’d be getting that view. 

“Would you just tell me already?” you whisper, knowing that the worst was coming. 

He runs his tongue across his bottom lip, nodding, “I don’t want to hurt you. I really don’t. It’s exactly why I’ve always said we can’t make promises to each other.”

You frown at him, “so then don’t. It’s literally that simple.”

“It’s not though,” he says with a little laugh, “I already made my promises to someone else.”

Your blood runs cold at that and you realize you hadn’t thought of one very awful possibility of why he wanted to talk. He had someone else already. Your throat feels so tight that it’s hard to breathe and you try to suck in a deep breath that doesn’t help at all. You shake your head and tighten your arms more across your chest, praying it helps hold your heart together for just a little longer. 

“Who is she?”

He hangs his head like this entire thing isn’t his own fault, “we were together in high school and now we go to separate schools. I didn’t want to hold her back but I don’t know how to let her go either.”

“So you’re a cheater,” you spit out, tears falling fast before you can even try and hold them back, “you’re cheating on her and I’m the other girl. What the fuck is wrong with you, Cole?”

“It’s not cheating!” he tries to justify, holding his hands up and stepping closer to you, “we’re not official right now.”

You push him back, hand firm on his chest to give yourself space, “fuck you. You’re as official as you can be and you still slept with me for the last four months. You knew what you were doing and you didn’t care. You didn’t have her here so you found a good substitute. That’s awesome, thanks for fucking up my life and emotions in the process.”

“Stop, I told you I didn’t want to hurt you. That’s why I’m being honest right now.”

“Honest?” you raise your voice, well aware that Brock could probably hear everything at this point, “you call this honest? You’re a liar and a cheater, Cole Caufield! I can’t believe I let you play me for this long.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I swear I didn’t mean for this to be the way it is,” he says, practically pleading at this point. 

You shake your head, bottom lip wobbling as much as your voice, “you broke my heart. Are you happy with that? Was everything a joke to you? Sleeping together, forehead kisses, holding hands, spending the night? Or did you just picture her the whole time and I was just a stand in?”

“No,” he mumbles, trying to reach for you, but you smack his hand away and start to back yourself towards his door, “I swear it was real with you. I didn’t mean to take it so far but I started to like you, too.”

“You are unbelievable. I can’t believe I let you in so easily. I hate you.”

He swallows around a lump that appears in his throat suddenly. This wasn’t at all how he’d planned things. They were never supposed to go this far with you, but he couldn’t let you go. He couldn’t but now he had to. He had no options anymore and he would probably lose everyone in the process. 

“I promise I will hate you for the rest of my life,” you whisper, cheeks wet with tears despite your best efforts to try and rid yourself of them before you left. He didn’t deserve to know how much he was breaking you.

You rip open his door and all but run out of the apartment. Brock catches your gaze from the living room as you open their front door. Immediately his heart breaks a little. He knew the entire time and never saved you from this. He was just as guilty as his brother was. Cole stays frozen in place where you’d left him in his room, heart hurting despite everything. He’d let you keep your promise about hating him. That was one he deserved to carry with him.

[spookybreadstick]

Hi there! I’m hoping requests are still open hehe

If they are, I was wondering if you could write something about how you’re a pasta living in the mansion and you’ve been dating BEN secretly for a while and one day some of the other pastas catch you guys cuddling or kissing or something like that?

Thank you so much! 🖤

hi bby! thank you for requesting something <3 I got your message about preferred pronouns but as it turns out I actually ending up writing it as gender neutral anyway (didn’t even realize until I was finished) so I hope that’s still cool with you. also, this is supposed to be funny. like, it’s meant to be sweet and humorous so I hope that’s what you had in mind lol. 

as a side note: i started writing Toby’s verbal tics in here, and I hope it turned okay and it made sense like when he was speaking versus when it was a tic. it’s new to me and I want to be respectful while still showing the character. 

💖🎀💖🎀💖🎀

There is something about secret love that is so romantic. Well, it's romantic and a burden as well. You and BEN have been dating for about a month now, and it's going great, minus the fact that it's a secret relationship. You were the one that had suggested it, though, so you couldn't complain. Too much, at least. You had suggested that your relationship be kept a secret, for now, because this whole "being a pasta" thing is so new to you. You have only been here for less than three months, and the last thing you want to do is rock the boat. BEN had tried to assure you that people probably wouldn't care, but you wanted to play it safe. What if Slender disapproved of your relationship? BEN has been a member of the mansion for years, but as the newbie, you'd be the one to get kicked out if he disapproved. You know that Slender was pretty strict about certain things too, so you'd hate to see what would happen if this displeased him somehow. BEN didn't mind keeping things "low-key" (his words) for now. He had never been in a relationship before, so this was a new experience that he kind of wanted to keep fairly private. He may be flirty and cocky on the outside, but he's still a romantic at heart and he doesn't like people being in his business when it's something so personal.

So for now, you and him were masquerading as good friends that really enjoy each other's company and hang out a lot. Who also sneak kisses. But people don't need to know that last part, do they? But you can't keep a secret like this forever, especially not with the nosy knuckleheads of the mansion. Plus, plenty of the pastas have stalking experience. They know how to eavesdrop and gather intel pretty well, so it's hard to keep things from them, unless you know what you're doing. You and BEN got lucky for the first month of your relationship, but of course all things must come to an end. Not that you minded much, but it was a surprise nonetheless. It began like any other gaming sesh with BEN, in the privacy of his room.

"Watch out, watch out, there's a guy right there!" BEN yelled, fingers furiously smashing the buttons on the controller.

"I'm trying, I'm trying! My ammo is low." You whined.

"Shit, babe, lemme help." BEN's avatar rushed towards yours and began firing at the attackers.

"Hold 'em off, I'll grab the gold." You moved your avatar to collect the gold pieces needed to win the level.

"Roger that." BEN grinned, firing away.

Five exhausting but exhilarating minutes later, you both had beat the incredibly hard level.

"Fuck yeah! We did it, baby!" BEN cheered loudly.

You giggled. "Yeah, we did."

"And you know what? It was all because of me." BEN boasted.

"What?! I'm the one who grabbed the gold." You pointed out, offended.

"Yeah, but, I'm the one who killed most of the guys for you." BEN explained.

"True, but if I hadn't grabbed the gold we wouldn't have passed the level."

"Okay, fine." He held up his hand in defeat, then grinned. "I guess we make a pretty good team, huh? I'm Player One and you're my Player Two."

"You're a dork." You said, laughing.

"But I'm your dork." He teased you, moving closer.

"Are you my dork?" You titled your head playfully.

"I'm all yours." He whispered before leaning in to kiss you.

You kissed back, feeling his sweet lips on yours and letting everything melt away. You were both so into the kiss that you didn't hear the footsteps outside of the door until Jeff had already flung it wide open.

"BEN, where the fuck did you put my- holy shit!" Jeff exclaimed.

Quickly, you broke apart and stared at Jeff in shock.

"Y'all are fuckin'?!" Jeff made a face, gesturing to the two of you.

"DUDE! No, what the hell!" BEN's face turned red.

"Wait, who's doing what?" Toby's eager face appeared in the doorway.

"Nothing! Nothing is happening!" You frantically tried to reason with the unexpected company.

"Is it BEN and y/n? They'd make the cutest couple." Jane appeared in the doorway as well.

"Ugh, couples. Don't make out in front of me anytime soon. Fucking gross." Clockwork rolled her eye as she passed by the door frame.

"I heard there was some drama going down!" LJ made a dramatic entrance in the middle of the room with some popcorn, always looking to be the center of attention, as usual.

"No, there's no drama! We were just playing video games!" You pleaded.

"Yeah, with your tongues down each other's throats." Jeff snorted.

"There was no tongue!" BEN said defensively.

"Ha! You admit - admit one, admit two - you admit to kiss-kissing!" Toby practically cheered.

"I think it's sweet." Jane cooed. You buried your face in your hands.

"Oh, don't be so embarrassed. I for one, already knew that you guys were going out." Masky said as he and Hoodie walked into the room.

"You did?! But we were so careful." BEN said, shocked.

"You guys are actually pretty lousy secret-keepers. Masky and I have known for at least two weeks." Hoodie shook his head. This caused some chatter among the others over who had already known and who had no idea.

"Sorry, babe." BEN turned to you with a sheepish grin.

"It's fine. The truth was going to come out sometime. I just hope Slender doesn't kick me out." You sighed.

"Why would I kick you out?" Slender asked, appearing behind you.

You stammered, unable to come up with a proper response.

Slender chuckled. "You have proven yourself to be a part of this family. You have a home here, regardless of what happens. You're family just as much as BEN is, and I wouldn't kick either of you out over a relationship."

You breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"Besides, who am I to meddle with young love?" Slender said, affectionately patting you and BEN on the head, showing his approval.

[littlemrcaprisun]

TW: major character death, mentions of illness/disease, extreme alcohol consumption

“Fuck this, fuck this, fuck this!” Dani screamed at the wall as she smashed the vase of flowers into it as hard as she could. Tiffany and Sofia stood behind and watched with quiet fear and tears rolling down their own cheeks. Dani picked each rose up, the glass and thorns cutting into her skin, and crushed them one by one. The blood of the roses and her own blood mixing together until no one could tell which was which. “She would fucking hate these! She hated roses, why do people just assume that people want flowers when people die?!”

“It was just a nice gesture…” Tiffany starts but quickly shuts up when Dani turns and glares at her. Tiffany cowers and Sofia wraps an arm around the young girl’s shoulder, who then curls into Sofia’s chest to sob.

“Daniela, stop this, now. She wasn’t just your mother, she was ours too. We loved her and so did many other people.” Sofia’s voice is stern and strong despite the fact that she was crying.

“Don’t… Don’t you fucking dare try to sound like her.” Dani shoved a shaking finger in Sofia’s face. “You will not replace her. No one fucking will.” With that Dani grabbed the nearest bottle of liquor and stormed out of the house.

The funeral had been two days before Dani finally broke down and everyone was honestly shocked that she lasted this long. Everyone saw this coming; Alcina had been sick for years by the time the disease finally took over, but that didn’t make the sting hurt less. Tiffany didn’t know where to go now, she was only 16 and her sisters were only 20 and 22. The only option was their grandmother, Alcina’s mother, who wasn’t the most supportive or kind to any of them. Tiffany was scared and Sofia was fighting to keep her. One adoption was enough for a person, now she had to go through another.

Dani laid down on the fresh dirt of her mother’s grave and poured more of the cheap whiskey down her throat, it burned less than the pain in her chest. She stared at the stars in the sky and rambled to her mother about all of the things she wished she would’ve told her when she was alive.

“Mama, remember when I was like ten and we broke your favorite statuette thing?” She is silent as if waiting for a response. “I told you it was Tiffany but it was actually me.”

“And when I broke that window, I’m sorry about that too. And all the times I hit my sisters, and all the times I argued with them, I’m sorry.” Dani sniffled and drank some more. “Mama, thanks for adopting me. I know I wasn’t an easy kid but you saved me from all that bad stuff. I think I would’ve died without you. You never gave up on me, or Soapy, or Laughy Taffy. Your ladybugs. I used to hate when you called me that but I would give anything to hear you call me that again.”

“Please, just say something. I feel like I’m drowning, I can’t breathe anymore and you know it’s because you took me down there with you. There’s just a part of me stuck up here too.” Dani pressed her ear to the ground and started to openly cry. “I’m sorry you got sick, mama, I tried to fix you. I did everything I could, but I couldn’t save you. The doctors told me I did everything right but it was too much for your body, but I know I should’ve tried harder.”

Dani closed her eyes and pretended that she was anywhere there when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up and saw a figure standing over her. “M-mama?”

“Hi little ladybug.” Alcina’s voice echoed in Dani’s ear, it sounded like her but so far away. She took a seat next to Dani and pulled her daughter into her lap. Dani scrambled to hang onto her mother and Alcina rocked her gently. Dani closed her eyes and started to drift but her mother stopped her. Alcina placed a hand on Dani’s cheek and smiled sadly at her. “I’m afraid you can’t stay here with me, my sweet.”

“W-why?” Dani swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. Alcina kissed Dani’s forehead and laid her back down on the dirt. “Mama, please… Don’t leave. I can’t do this, I need you.”

“You can do this.” Alcina winked and stood. “You’re a Dimitrescu, aren’t you? We are strong and we don’t give up, we can do anything. This will hurt for a long time, and you will never see me on this earth again, but one day you will wake up and you will be washed over with a sense of freedom from this pain. You may always miss me, but you will be alright, my child. I raised you to be okay.”

Alcina started to walk away and Dani reached for her down but her hand fell through it, just as she started to fall through the ground beneath her. She was swirling through darkness and dirt tumbling through nothing and everything at once until she landed with a jolt in a hospital bed. Dani jerked awake and called out for her mother but all she found are her two sisters and her uncle at the foot of her bed.

“Hey, look, the little shit’s awake.” Heisenberg, her mother’s brother, said with a wavering voice. There was no malice in his voice, for them that was affectionate. Dani furrowed her brows and looked around the room again before focusing back on her uncle. He’d been crying. So had her sisters.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Sofia’s voice was angry, a sound Dani was more familiar with. “We found you half frozen to death on mother’s grave. You nearly died. Why would you do that to us?”

“She told me to come back…” Dani’s throat was sore and her voice was hoarse, surprising her. “I saw her.”

Sofia opened and closed her mouth, ready to tell her that it was nonsense but let her believe whatever she wanted to. Tiffany believed her though and curled up next to Dani to listen to everything she had to say about the experience.

“I told her the truth about the stupid statuette.” Dani laughed a genuine laugh and everyone’s face snapped to her. “She told me I’m going to be okay… We’re all going to be okay.”

[goldafterglow]

I'm so sorry about this but can you share some angsty headcanons about Ezra dealing with heartbreak? Maybe he's been left by someone he thought was it for him?

A/N: boy do i have a lot of wips but i think i haven’t broken y’alls hearts in a while and i miss ppl telling me they hate me affectionately. also ur just a special baby and you sound like you need catharsis :)

Word Count: 628

Warnings: angst!, graphic visual depictions, a gender neutral lover (bc you know i know we all know it) and no reader, a little bit of fluff perhaps at the end bc i’m a simp

When Ezra is in love, he is in love. He’s made a bad, horrible habit of pouring his sweet caramel soul into the cup of his love, even if it’s not reciprocated. His feelings take him like the rip current, violent and dangerous, and smash him against the jagged rocks of the shore. He is helpless.

If he’s in a long-standing romance, he will be anchored to this person. He will share his darkest thoughts, share his poetry, his tears and joy with this person. This man doesn’t know how to hold back, can’t show any restraint if he thinks he’s safe. It’s so easy to tear his walls down, especially if it’s by someone who loves him as much as he loves them - not that that’s possible.

A breakup will tear him apart.

That anchor will be ripped from his throat, his walls left damaged like a bomb has detonated inside his chest and the raw, open edges of his wounds are being stomped on by pins and toothpicks.

He will do a lot of begging - he’s not beyond getting on his knees. But he can’t tie anybody to him, can’t keep them sewed to him if they don’t want to be, so he lets them leave. He has to. He knows that.

He lets them pick up his love, take his light and his trust and his faith and take it. He’ll never get it back.

He sobs a lot. Ezra feels his emotions in a very physical way, and his lungs have never ached more, his eyes having never been drier and yet they’re always so wet. He sits on the floor and trembles into his hands like he is a molecule l in the vast void of the universe, more empty inside than the space that surrounds him.

I think I’ve said before that he likes to place meaning into inanimate objects, so almost everything around him reminds him of his pain. His cot where he used to hold his lover, the pilot’s seat where he used to hold them in his lap, the drawer compartments where he’d press them up against, the spoons that used to feed him when he was feeling ill. Nothing feels sacred anymore, everything boiling to the touch and yet simultaneously too frozen to hold. Everything feels ruined; he feels ruined.

This is a moment where he truly need solitude. He is not ready to interact with people again, not prepared for the intense exertion of greeting prospectors and forming partnerships and just saying “hello.” It’s too hard.

So he stays cooped up in his habitat for a while, letting the days drag by like time has no meaning because why should anything have meaning when he can’t share it?

A lot of writing. When he’s not talking, he’s writing, and these are the thoughts that he has to throw onto paper because they are far too dangerous for him to let them fester in his head like rotting meat, maggots crawling over them as they begin to deteriorate his mind into some dead, numb shell.

Ezra’s heart and soul are not nonrenewable; the isolation is healing and his love for people and things is a sensitive but persistent creature. So no, he will never regain what he has lost, but his heart is a flower garden and with time he will grow new buds that bloom in his cheeks and float on his hair.

Ezra does not forget, and he would be a fool to not learn from his mistakes.

But love makes Ezra do silly things, like trust. So over and over again in his lifetime Ezra will let himself get hurt, hurt himself, because it’s the moments in between that make it all worth it.

Tags:  @mrschiltoncat @cryptkeepersoul @dindjarindiaries @agentpike

join/leave tags

[thenamesseven]

Plot: Jackson just came back from a world tour after almost nine months away, as soon as the two of you get in the car he gives you a ride...On his lap.

Warnings: Smut, smut, smut, car sex ahead!

Word count: 3.1k

Hope this was what you had in mind more or less anon! Enjoy this ^^

When the sliding doors opened and your eyes met Jackson’s almost instantly, you felt as if time had stopped for the two of you to just watch each other. His lips tilted up in slow motion in a big goofy smile that stretched his face and when he opened his arms for you to walk into them the fluttering feeling that invaded your chest was similar to falling in love with him all over again. The rest of GOT7 stood behind him, greeting some of their family members that came to welcome them or just signing some albums, shirts or even skin of the fans that somehow managed to know when and where they would land once their international tour was over.

It was the first time Jackson and you had spent so much time apart since the two of you started dating, it had been almost a whole year, around 9 months, the time Jackson had spent travelling around the world with his kpop group performing in all the big stages he had ever dreamed about. You watched all the youtube videos, all the television programs they participated in and even listened to the radio shows they decided to go to, it helped a little when you had to deal with Jackson’s absence at home but it also made it worse sometimes. You could hear his voice, you could see he was having fun and living one of his biggest dreams but you couldn’t touch him, you feel him besides you and you couldn’t tell him how much you love him whenever you wanted. You understood though, when Jackson asked you out around two years ago you knew the consequences dating an idol would have but your feelings for him were so strong that nothing or nobody had managed to break your relationship.

You saw Jackson’s fingers wiggling, motioning for you to come closer to him and that’s all your feet needed to start moving. At first, since you were in a public place with a bunch of people and paparazzis around, you started walking at a normal pace but it soon turned agonizing, you wanted to be in Jackson’s arms, you wanted to hear him, smell him and feel him in that exact moment so when your boyfriend left his luggage behind and started walking towards you, you knew he felt the same way as you did, that he needed the same thing you needed. It was your cue to start running.

You ran into his hard, broad chest so hard that if his strongs arms hadn’t pulled you in against him you would have probably fallen down onto the floor. You heard him chuckle, delighting your ears with such a wonderful sound, while his big hands rubbed your back, soothing you as he moved them up and down on your body. Jackson held you even more tightly when you rested your forehead on his chest, inhaling his scent mixed with his manly cologne as he rocked the both of you side to side.

“I know I told you to wait for me at home but damn, I became the happiest man alive as soon as I saw you sitting there waiting for me” He muttered making the both of you laugh, his cheek against the top of your head as his hand kept rubbing your back. You could hear people taking pictures of the both of you, some of them were fans, some paparazzis and the rest was people from the crew who simply found the two of you too cute to resist the temptation.

You, reluctantly, tilted your head up away from his chest to look into his eyes “You really thought I wouldn’t pick you up? I would never ever let you go back home alone after being away for so much time” You held him tighter, refusing to let him go.

“Fuck I missed you so much (Y/N)” He groaned tilting his head down to bury it against the crook of your neck, holding you even tighter against his body. Girls around you giggled and the guys simply chuckled, they weren’t used to seeing Jackson as needy as he was right now. “Have you ever been trending topic  in Twitter?” You frowned at his words, confused at the sudden change of subject

“No?” You asked hesitating, not knowing what was going through his mind “I mean, just when our relationship became public but that’s all” 

“Let’s make you a trend again” Before you could ask him what he was talking about, Jackson’s hands gripped the back part of your thighs and forced you to jump. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, a faint blush appeared in your cheeks that made Jackson laugh “Now kiss me, we will make it to the front page in every newspaper and magazine” He said jokingly, making sure to keep his hands on places that wouldn’t be too scandalous considering the position you were in.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his attitude, he loved the attention people gave the two of you, specially the cute and fangirling comments some of his fans left in the couple pictures the two of you sometimes posted. You on the other hand, weren’t a big fan of being put under the spotlight and that’s what made Jackson tease you this way. He loved seeing your cheeks get red every single time he did something too affectionate in public or the way you would always try to  discreetly push him away whenever he was too close for your liking. Going from a secret couple to a public one had been a complicated step for the both of you, some of his fans didn’t seem to accept he was taken and you were still trying to get used to being known all over the world thanks to your boyfriend but with his help and love, everything had been easier than it was supposed to be.

Looking down at him, you cupped both of his cheeks with your hands, seeing his smile turn even bigger when he realized you were going to do it “I hate you” With those words, you leaned down and finally closed the agonizing distance between your lips.

Your first kiss with Jackson had been perfect, unforgettable and you thought nothing in this world would be better than that moment but right there, as you kissed him after almost nine whole months without any physical contact, you thought nothing could be better than the satisfaction your body felt in that moment. It was romantic, it allowed you to focus on him, the people and background noise around the two of you vanishing for a few seconds. It honestly as as if Jackson and you were on some kind of parallel universe in which the only people that existed were you two. Once the kiss broke for a second so you could catch your breath, you could hear the click sound the cameras made everytime they took a picture increasing at a really fast pace, you knew this picture would be everywhere in two hours but you couldn’t care less at this point. Jackson was here and all you wanted to do was make up for the time the both of you lost.

Smiling against your lips, your boyfriend turned around to hide you from the cameras when he 

thought everybody had had enough time to captured the moment between him and you. He kept his lips away from yours, smirking teasingly as his eyes flickered around your face, he had missed you so much.

“Bet you a dinner at your favorite restaurant that our picture will be all over the internet in eight minutes” He said smirking, lips brushing against yours as his hands struggled to not move up to your ass

“Six minutes” You said accepting his challenge, holding onto him as if you were a castaway and he was the only thing keeping you alive

“We better check in later though, I’ve got better plans in mind” He muttered before he leaned forward to bite your lower lip again, slowly placing you back down onto the floor but still keeping you against his chest “After than romantic kiss we have...” Without finishing the sentence, Jackson bit his lower lip hard and groaned lowly so nobody could hear him. Jackson looked down at you noticing you weren’t exactly following what he wanted to explain so he leaned down and placed his lips against your ear. Thank God he used your hair to cover his lips because if somebody had managed to guess what he was about so said they would have all gone mad  “I need you right fucking now” His voice was needy, his hands holding you a little tighter 

“J-Jackson!” You stuttered, surprised by his bold action. The two of you were surrounded by people, he couldn’t be serious about it. “Are you crazy?” 

Jackson smirked, taking your hand and intertwining your fingers “Crazy for you babe, now come on, let’s go”

Jackson didn’t give you time to complain or to say something, he grabbed his luggage and pulled your hand as he walked away from everybody, he didn’t even give you time to greet the rest of the guys as you had wanted. “B-But” He shook his head, telling you there was no way he would change his mind about this.

The fact that he was so eager to get intimate with you, that he needed it so bad turned you on but it also worried you. What if somebody saw you? What if they took pictures or something? Wouldn’t that be too problematic for Jackson? Wouldn’t it be better to just wait to get home?

“Jackson I don’t think-” Before you could finish that sentence, your boyfriend pushed you back against your own car and smashed his lips against yours harshly. Pain was mixed with pleasure as soon as your tongues met, making the two of you groan. For a moment, with his hands dangerously resting on your hips, you forgot all your worries and felt the strong need Jackson seemed to be feeling. You wanted him, you wanted to touch him, to feel him inside of you. “Fuck…”

 Smirking against your lips, Jackson slid one of his hands underneath your shirt touching your bare belly, turning you into putty in his hands “That’s exactly what we’re about to do” He whispered against your lips, moaning huskily when he pushed his hips against yours “I need to be inside of you right now” When you moaned at his words, Jackson pushed himself even closer to you knowing he had already changed your mind about it “Get in your seat, let me put the luggage in” He pecked your cheek before looking into your eyes “I want you on my lap as soon as I get inside”

Your brain was turned off at this point unlike other parts of your body that were incredibly turned on. Jackson had managed to make your panties soaked without touching your most sensitive parts, all you needed was a few kisses, him whispering dirty things to you and the feeling of his body against yours. If he didn’t give you more, you would probably end up crying. 

Without wasting more time, you got inside the car, watching on the rearview mirror how your boyfriend placed the luggage inside before rushing to his side. A rush of anticipation and adrenaline filled you up as soon as the driver’s door opened and Jackson’s body finally landed on his seat. Before the two of you could waste any more time, you kind of stood up and straddled him on his seat, pressing down onto the honk with your butt.

“Shit! Push the seat b-back” You stuttered making Jackson laugh hard, he could feel how nervous you were about this whole situation and he couldn’t help but love it. You were absolutely knew to sex in public places and he was proud you were going to let him show you how good it felt to fuck with the risk of being seen lurking around.

“On it” He replied, moving it back enough for you to accidentally not touch anything else.

Before you could start complaining about something else, Jackson cupped the back of your head and pulled it down until his lips slammed down against yours. The two of you groaned but also sighed satisfied when your mouths started moving in sync, tongues coming out to meet the other and play a game of dominance that your boyfriend always ended up winning. You moaned when Jackson’s hands moved up underneath your shirt, his nails digging into your skin as he traced the curves on your body while he slowly pushed your hips to rock against his.

The erection trapped in his pants were obvious and as soon as your crotch felt it, you knew there was no way in this world you would stop what the two of you had started. “Fuck, take this off, take it off right now” With shaky hands he moved his hands away from your hips to unbutton your jeans. Willing to tease him, you lowered yourself harder against him, stealing a husky moan from Jackson’s lips that almost pushed you over your orgasm. You were about to combust he hadn’t even taken your pants off. “God damnit kitten, you should have wore a skirt” He muttered pushing the piece of clothing down, eyes rolling back in pleasure when the tip of his fingers brushed against your wet panties.

“Jackson I really need you” You muttered breathless, hands in his chest as you couldn’t stop grinding against his hot, hard body. You hadn’t realized how much you’ve missed this until now.

“I won’t last much if you keep moving like that” Jackson groaned, trying to undo the zipper of his jeans, voice shaking with need as his eyes were glued to cleavage “Can’t wait to get home to leave a bunch of hickeys on them” He muttered squeezing your tits, smirking when you tilted your head back in pleasure. Jackson finally managed to get his dick out of his pants without taking them off, grabbing the base of it, he bit his lip as he guided your hips closer to it right when you could feel the tip against your wet entrance, you saw your boyfriend smirk “You do all the work, I’m too tired right now” He muttered teasingly, tilting his seat back so he was laying back a little.

“You’re too tired huh?” You asked teasing him, biting your lower lip harder 

“Might just be saving energy for round two” Jackson chuckled, running his hands down your neck right before he pushed you down hard enough for you to sit down onto his cock.

The both of you moaned incredibly loud at the sensation. Jackson being squeezed by your tight inner walls that only seemed to pull him deeper and you at the sensation of his big member stretching you out. There was no time for foreplay or warming up, the both of you needed a release before getting home and before somebody else realized what was going on in your car.

The windows became fogged and the car probably started bouncing as you did the same thing on Jackson’s lap. You would usually enjoy riding him slowly, taking your time to feel his big erection hitting all the right places but the need in your body kept telling you to fuck his brains out and that’s exactly where you were trying to do. You gripped the seat behind him, using it to move harder and faster without your legs getting weak so fast, Jackson reached forward to turn on the radio in an attempt to cover the sound of his moans, his other hand lazily resting on your hip as he just laid there watching you, allowing you to use his body to your liking.

He has never been so turned on in his whole life.

“Fuck, just like that baby, don’t slow down” He muttered, head tilted back, his back arched against the seat and his eyes rolling back in pleasure.

You nodded quietly, groaning as you started moving even faster and harder if that was physically possible. You’ve never rode Jackson so intensely but the sound of his moans told you he was loving this as much as you and your pussy did.

“(Y/N)” Your name became a mantra that he kept repeating over and over, every time your tight pussy seemed to be pulling him deeper inside of you “Fuck kitten, I’m going to cum so hard” With his eyes closed, he reached down with one of his hands and started rubbing your swollen clit, making you almost scream out in pleasure. “That’s it, come on, I want to feel you clenching around my cock” He whispered rubbing it harder, pressing down onto it.

You couldn’t even hear what Jackson was telling you at this point, your attention was far away from his dirty talking and closer to the things his fingers were doing to your most sensitive spot. “Jackson” You moaned out his name, making him groan as you felt him twitching inside of you. “Fuck Jackson…” You mumbled breathless, eyes closed when you sensed your orgasm getting closer and closer “Yes, yes, yes, Jackson...Jackson...Fuck!” Your body shook in pleasure, your vision turned white as the orgasm washed away all your tension and drown you in pure bliss.

Jackson gripped the flesh of your waist tightly, groaning and whispering profanities since his orgasm had followed yours, filling you up so much that both of your sexual juices started dripping down your inner thighs staining his pants. 

Your body felt too weak at the moment so you simply leaned forward, pressing your body against his, burying your face into his neck as you tried to catch your breathing. Jackson’s hand started caressing your skin again, calming down his pounding heart as he left lovingly and sweet kisses on the top of your head.

“It’s a miracle nobody noticed” He muttered looking through the windows, smiling as he kissed your cheek “See? It was an awesome idea”

“It was...A horrible...Idea” You managed to say between breaths, making the both of you smile 

“Really? Then let’s head home and discuss some more ideas I have in mind” He growled playfully against your ear, nibbling your earlobe. You shivered against him, giggling as you leaned back to look into his eyes.

“How many?” You asked pecking his lips over and over again, not letting him speak.

“Enough to keep us awake all night long” 

[berkcwitz]

❛ ✶ (   madison beer, cisfemale, she/her   )   spotted   !   jalissa   berkowitz   was   spotted   singing   along   to   find   my   way   by   dababy   in   hilton   grove  .   you’ve   heard   of   them   right   ?   they   are   a   twenty   two   year   old   pornographic   actress   /   internet   personality   who   has   already   amassed   a   net   worth   of   550m  .   you   should   really   follow   them   on   insta   @callmejalissa  ,   they’re   about   to   hit   89m   followers  .   the   tabloids   have   been   calling   them   the   vixen   because   they   are   known   for   being   whimsical   but   also   a   bit   abrasive  .   though   most   people   recognize   them   by   a   drunken   gaze   staring   into   the   mirror   as   she   holds   finger   guns   to   her   head   ,   a   laugh   too   contagious   ,   leaving   notes   in   lipstick   on   bathroom   mirrors   &   echoing   of   her   mothers   longtime   disapproval   .    —   ooc info   (   mia.   twenty.   est.   she/her.   )

GUYYYSSSS ?! this group ? a masterpiece , wow . im hella excited to get to roleplay with you all . im mia by the way , im twenty ( i’ll be 21 in june what a vibe ) & i live in the est ( a clam chowder eating , dunkin donuts chugging , no Rs havin , boston sports loving new englander ). also i go by she/her pronouns ! i am going to be so honest with you guys . this intro is dummy long . like , i promise i will not judge you if you hmu asking for a quick synopsis of my girl because this shit below this cut ? is a novella & a half , sis . if im very honest i really just needed to flesh her out completely because she’s a new baby of mine ? and i wanted to make sure i really knew her before i put her out on the dash . im so anal about this , i know . anyways , before this little note section gets as long as the intro without further a do ? adu ? idfk ... here’s jalissa , she’s ... a piece of work . also if you'd prefer to plot on discord hmu @ 𝖒𝖌𝖐'𝖘 𝖜𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖊#9789 .

𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐇

full name: jalissa  billie-jean  berkowitz nickname: lissa , jals , jb , berks , jalissa cadden ( porn name ) birthday: october 13th birthplace: fort lauderdale , florida hometown: hilton grove residence: hilton grove nationality: american ( est. 1997 through birth ) , british ( est. 1997 automatically a citizen due to mother’s citizenship , passport was claimed est. 2012 ) ethnicity: askenazi jewish ( maternal & paternal , 100% ) religion: judaism orientation: pansexual , panromantic ( she never really came out per say , people just kind of know she’s attracted to all genders . her family is very religious and she’s very involved with her synagogue so she’s made the choice not the necessarily put a label on her sexuality but is open about loving people no matter gender ) languages spoken: english ( fluent , first language ) , yiddish ( fluent , second language ) , spanish ( fluent , third language ) , german ( conversational , fourth language ) . father: henry  christian  berkowitz  ( 50 years old )  was born & raised in fort lauderdale , florida by a politician / banking heir & talk show host / philanthropist . henry himself went on to follow in his father’s footsteps and serve as a us senator for two terms & currently is the ceo of berkowitz capital . ( relationship:  it’s never been perfect but the love is clear in the relationship & he’s been much better at being supportive of her in recent years . certainly a daddy’s little girl even when you do wrong you can’t do much wrong type of situation ) mother : austen  sylvia  rachelson-berkowitz  ( 48 years old ) was born & raised in westminster ,  england up until her teens when she & her mother moved to washington dc after her mother had become the incumbent uk ambassador to the united states . austen was crowned miss usa at the age of 20 & later went on to follow in her families long time involvement in politics ( holding former offices as a us representative as well as governor for two terms ) . today she spends much of her time putting her law degree to work on criminal cases . ( relationship: they’ve never been close & have never quite seen eye to eye . since jalissa was nineteen she & her mom haven’t said more than ten words to one another & if they have it’s never necessarily positive ) brother: kenneth  patrick  berkowitz  ( 24 years old ) was born in fort lauderdale , florida & raised in hilton grove . he shares the same parents as jalissa and is the couples first born & only son . kenneth is following in the berkowitz footsteps & is heading the uk sector for berkowitz capital since graduating from columbia university a couple years back . ( relationship: the two siblings have always been close. they had a similar friend group growing up & alot of the same interests . they’re still rather close to this day despite being countries away from one another ) sister: sariah  rachel  berkowitz ( 19 years old )  was born in fort lauderdale , florida & raised in hilton grove . she shares the same parents as jalissa and is the couples last born . sariah currently attends stanford university where she’s on a pre med track . ( relationship: the two were often at each other’s necks growing up . mostly because how similar they are to one another . as of recently the two have grown close , though , with sariah fessing up to looking up to her older sister ) social class: upper education: highschool diploma ( hilton grove highschool g. 2015 ) career: youtuber ( from 2014-present ) , pornographic actress ( from 2016-present ) , podcaster (from 2018-present ) notoriety: being apart of the prominent berkowitz family , having one of the top 10 most watched pornographic movies , her podcast with her best friend tickets to our downfall  & her youtube channel callmejalissa . weight: 122lbs  height: 5′4″ hair color: brown ( with blonde highlights ) eye color: hazel ( wears blue contacts sometimes ) positive traits: whimsical , astute , extroverted , affectionate , quick , intelligent , friendly , ambitious , passionate , humorous , loyal , compassionate , effervescent negative traits: opportunistic , recalcitrant , hypocritical , vain , critical , stubborn , distant , sneaky , abrasive , sarcastic , obsessive , vengeful , reckless , arrogant likes: black coffee , birthday parties , lying , sunshine , baby pink , glossy lips , gossiping , stand up comedy , sunkissed skin , dogs , peanut butter , popping champagne bottles , driving with the windows down , swimming , mimosas , oversized sweaters , taco bell , cranberry juice , makeup , football , cosmetic work , arguing , online shopping , exotic foods , jewelry the price of a car , fresh berries , roller skating dislikes: liars , driving in the snow , her mother , jelly , basketball , bad drivers , when people lie about their cosmetic work , sushi , hateful people , disloyalty , overly emotional people , romance , being alone ,  astrology enthusiasts , hospitals , silence , cheap perfume , criticism , traffic , being late , red wine , short hair , anything banana or grape flavored  hobbies: reading magazines , dancing to her newly curated playlist in the mirror , gossiping with her grandparents , video editing , meddling , going for brunch , goat yoga , drinking alcohol while snuggled up in bed , painting alternate universe cartoons , attending big soirees , making impulsive decisions , smoking weed , sleepovers with her closest friends , suntanning on yacht decks , late night instagram lives , marilyn monroe movie marathons  chara inspo: kourtney kardashian , emily nelson ( a simple favor ) , tan france ( queer eye ) , evie zamora ( thirteen ) , rebekah mikaelson ( the vampire diaries ) , jennifer check ( jennifer’s body ) , gabrielle solis ( desperate housewives ) , regina george ( mean girls ) , lucifer morningstar ( lucifer ) , kathryn merteuli ( cruel intentions ) , veronica lodge ( riverdale ) , chanel oberlin ( scream queens ) , samantha jones ( sex and the city ) , andie anderson ( how to lose a guy in 10 days ) , blair waldorf ( gossip girl ) , naomi lapaglia ( wolf of wall street ) , maddy perez ( euphoria ) , kat hernandez ( euphoria ) fashion inspo: fran drescher , bella hadid , alex chung , madison beer , romee strijd , kendall jenner , selena gomez  career inspo: tana mongeau , jordan lipscombe , sofia franklyn , alexdandra cooper , lana rhodes , abella danger headcanons: she has one hundred percent smashed the windows in an exes car , she drives a black range rover , vandalized an exes home before , says “ harely quinn is my spirit animal “ once a day , is not the type of ask if you’re okay with her vlogging , has slept with rock stars and couldn’t care less that they’re basically the age of dirt at this point , is actually very sad when she’s not putting on the vivacious front in front of people , dances on tables whens she’s drunk , its not a party unless someone has offered her a line  

𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐉𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀

the   berkowitz   family name has long been one that holds prestige & power . among the 1% for over a century . they are a prominent banking family that has had their hands in the pots of nearly every big banking company across the nation . coming into the united states after word broke of the california gold rush back in 1849 , the berkowitz brother’s were of the lucky few to acquire pounds of gold by the thousands . later founding what would become a leading investment bank known as berkowitz capital . the generations to follow would capitalize on the head start given to them by the two brothers . expanding the family company as well as the knowledge of the family name through heavy involvement in politics alongside the kennedy’s . since as early as 1953 there has always been a berkowitz family member actively appointed to a political role ( governor , senator , representative , us ambassador , etc ) . although the families roots within the states are documented in the capital of california , as generations went on they made their way over to the east coast , with most of the family members now residing in southern florida . 

the   rachelson   family is a prominent political family . synonymous with power & eloquence . with their rise initially taking place in the british parliament . many escaped to england from germany between 1933-1935 . they hadn’t settled into the states until jocelyn rachelson ( jalissa’s maternal grandmother ) was appointed the united kingdoms ambassador to the united states in 1987 . the rachelson’s have since had heavy involvement in the us government , both behind the scenes and at the forefront . much of the rachelson family have stayed within the european union ( germany & poland ) as well as england . although the few that followed jocelyn to the states now reside in washington dc and the tri-state area .

henry & austen had met through their mutual friends . it didn’t take long before the two became a rather public couple , a supercouple if you would ( similar to that of a brangelina of the 1% ) . although they’d met in new york the two decided that when it was time to start a family they wanted to move to hilton grove , an island austen had eyed for years . instead they found themselves moving down to fort lauderdale where henry had grown up . before they knew it , they were three kids deep in settling down in fort lauderdale . austen’s anger from never wanting to build a life in florida started to tumble into the relationship & the daily life of the family & so in an effort to recover the marriage henry agreed to moving the family up to hilton grove , where they have resided ever since .

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀 𝐄𝐑𝐀

jalissa was born the second of three children and oh boy does she suffer from middle child syndrome , riddled with a envy and a need to be in the mix . the berkowitz household , although , from the outside looking in looked like a fabulous family life was anything but . jalissa , like her siblings , was born on a pedestal & what came attached with that was even higher expectations from her parents . her parents found a way to be extremely authoritarian & uninvolved all at the same time . they were very dismissive if you disappointed them & everything jalissa did seemingly did just that .

for a long time she was obsessed with getting her parents approval , she’d turned life into a silent competition between herself & her siblings . she befriended only the people her parents approved of , did all the events they asked her to do , did everything she could to excel academically & only dated people who were of benefit to her parents ( people who’s parents where also in high places ) . 

during highschool she joined the model un , debate team , and soccer team . if it were up to jalissa & not her parents she’d probably had joined the cheerleading team but her mother would never let that fly . it was too “ self indulgent “ to fit the family brand ( if only she’d known what would be coming years later lol ) .

it wasn’t until she was seventeen that she started to deviate from her parents wishes . of course , the catalyst to this was a boy , one her parents hadn’t really approved of but jalissa was completely head over heels for him . he really helped her boost her confidence to be her own person ? and not allow her parents to treat her like a puppet . with his encouragement she started her youtube channel , something she’d wanted to do for years but her mother had shot down the idea anytime jalissa brought it up . it was once again too “ self indulgent ” . the channel known as callmejalissa was an outlet for her , talking to a camera was the most heard she’d felt in seventeen years of her life . and god she knew that was hella sad . she really grew to view her subscribers as family & by the time her channel was brought to her parents attention ( more like her mothers , her dad had found her channel just four months after she’d made it and promised not to tell her mother so long as she was smart about what she posted ) she was about to turn eighteen and there wasn’t much they could do to stop her from doing it .

at eighteen she’d graduated highschool salutatorian with offers from university of pennsylvania & brown university . in all honesty she didn’t wnat to go to college , she saw it as a complete waste of her time . it wasn’t like she was going to do anything with the degree anyways . it would simply be a point of bragging for her parents at events & at this point she really could care less about them being able to brag to their friends . she knew she had to play along though , because this was the same year she was going to receive her first half of her trust fund ( a whoopin 500m , yes her trust fund in total will be 1b her parents are grossly wealthy guys ) so she bamboozled ? her parents , promising she’d committed to attending penn just so they’d allow for the money to be released to her account . she moved out of the house , literally moving into a house of her own a couple blocks from her parents house & claimed she was living in pennsylvania for college . we stan a sneaky binch .

two months later her parents were at her front door , though , ready to give her an ear full . her mother basically disowned her at this point . telling her how every year jalissa found a new way to be a bigger disappointment . her dad kind of played good cop , like he normally would because her mother often dug into her pretty deeply . to the point where any insecurity ( even though with the way she carries herself you’d never think she has any ) she has stems from something her mother has said / called her in the past . if henry berkowitz had a soft spot , it was certainly jalissa , it that had only grown clearly with the harsher austen became on the girl .

a few months before her nineteenth birthday a sex tape was released of jalissa cheating on her boyfriend at the time . it was a drunken mistake she’d made around the time of her mother basically disowning her , but that explanation did suffice for her boyfriend who inevitably broke things off with her . although this was a horrific time she’d received an abundance of offers to film more tapes . it was enticing to say the least . she was someone who loved intercourse but also had this deeply rooted desire to get back at her mother ? and what better way to do so then to something so far left from what her mother was about . this was next level disappointment in the eyes of austen berkowitz . the only thing that made sense ( in her mind ) was to dive head first into the porn industry .

like you’d expect her parents had a fit when they found out about her new career choice . although her internet fame had soared to new heights and her youtube & instagram followers were loving every second of this move . her mom was currently serving as governor and has since not been able to get elected in the political world since jalissa became one of the top porn stars around . they basically blacklisted her & jalissa feels no remorse , she’s gone so far as telling her mother “ sucks to be shunned , huh? ” .

although it took her dad a while to come around , he cares far too much to shut her out . 

not to long after jalissa & her best friend started their podcast tickets to our downfall , it’s a mix of call her daddy & the basement yard , basically two besties talking on a level that most people wouldn’t want to leave the privacy of their own space , giving advice , hoe tricks , and telling funny stories of their past . it a total hit & one of jalissa’s favorite things to do .

she live sin the same house she has since she was eighteen . she lives on her own with three dogs and a cat . she absolutely hates being alone and so maggie ( a tan corgi puppy ) , louis ( a  yellow lab puppy ) , humphrey ( a chocolate lab ) , and cedric ( a orange scottish fold ) are her babies that keep her sane in her big ole home . 

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 

as you can tell jalissa is chaotic , impulsive , reactive , and overall just searching for attention . she doesn’t care if the attention she receives is for the wrong reason or not , as long as she’s getting it . despite this she’s a good person ? i promise . she’s very friendly , loves a good joke & having a good time . very fun loving . she’s the type of person to try and bring up everyone else’s mood even when she isn’t feeling 100% herself . she’s loyal to those she deems are loyal to her . sometimes she’s bad a seeing who is actually loyal to her though & will be disloyal to someone who actually has her back ? oops . she’s definitely not the type to sugar coat anything for you , she tells it like it is & refuses to apologize if that hurts your feelings . if you cross her ? i’ll be praying for you . she’s the type to fuck your s/o , tell your boss some wild story about you & dump alcohol over your head at an event all in the matter of a week . don’t get her going , she’s absolutely relentless . with that said she’d very affectionate ... ? you can catch her hugging up on whoever is next to her at all times . touch is her love language , because lord knows she’s no sweetheart . she hates the stereotype of porn stars / internet personalities being ditzy , although she didn’t attend university she was accepted into two ivy leagues based off her academic abilities alone . the girl is intelligent & enjoys having a clever conversation from time to time .

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

a girl squad or just a squad in general really , give my baby her lil group of people please

her ex boyfriend from when she was seventeen ( he’s mentioned above ) but basically he’s the one who encouraged her to not let her parents make her their puppet , they didn’t approve of him , jalissa fell head over heels for him . they would’ve dated for nearly two years because the sex tape of her cheating on him came out .

the person she cheated on her ex with ? maybe they’re the one who leaked the sex tape ? maybe they never even told jalissa they were recording ? 

her best friend that she does the tickets to our downfall podcast with ? these two are literally like twins , just two peas in a pod ( pun intended )

fans of her work ? and im not taking about her youtube channel or podcast 

ex hook ups that think she’s crazy ? she probably gave them reason to think so lbr

frenemies give me blair & serena circa season one type of shit

just plain old enemies , they were probably friends at one point or maybe just have always disliked one another ? 

smoking buddies were they literally just hot box cars together and munch on taco bell talking about why sound vibrates & shit 

someone who isn’t afraid to confess their love for jalissa but her damaged ass refuses to confess her feelings for them ? so it’s just this constant cycle of them having a good time , them being sweet & her just gets weirdly quite & starring at them before she complaining about them going and ruining the vibes

she’s a bad influence on them ? they’re a good influence on her ? ride or dies ? partners in crime ? only friends when there is a substance involved ? sugar baby vibes ? unlikely friends ? flings ? crush ? friends with benefits ? everytime they are around one another its a fight ? someone she lets crash at her place sometimes ? someone she’s backstabbed & maybe they don’t even know she has & they still think she’s a ride or die for them ?

[bandrbear]

To Protect the Ones You Love - Chapter 3

A week previous, the day started normal. Diana woke up feeling a little tired, but overall she felt good. She got out of bed, changed into her school uniform, and went to breakfast earlier than most. She ate breakfast quickly and went to the library for a short bit  to find some books while she waited for class to start. She browsed some of the oldest leather bound books, looking for one in particular. After twenty minutes of searching dusty shelves she doesn’t find it. She frowns and thinks for a few minutes, trying to figure out who would want a book on demonology and summoning. She shakes her head, unable to think of someone in particular. She sighs and decides to head to class now, and see Akko. She smiles softly and walks off, forgetting the whole reason she wanted the book, and getting lost in thoughts of the affectionate brunette. The fact that her favorite hair brush had gone missing as well as one of her sashes and that dark slimy substance she found by her window got overwhelmed by happy Akko thoughts.

The black robe clad witch flipped through the old pages until she found the right one. She cackled evilly and slid her finger down the old, wrinkled, yellowed paper until she found the beginning of the summoning ritual. She begins to gather the summoning materials, drawing the summoning circle, lighting a multitude of candles, and preparing the sacrificial blade. As she prepares, the witch’s small slimy black demon familiar climbs the table and kneels, presenting the mysterious girl with a large clump of blonde hair and a blue sash. The girl smiles evilly and collects the presented materials and pats the small creature on the head. “Good, good, you may go now.” She tells her small familiar. It slides off the table and scurries to its cage where it curls up and falls asleep. 

The girl creates a heavy circle of salt and places the ribbon, tied around the lock of hair, in the middle of the circle. The girl cuts her palm and bleeds onto the ribbon and hair, before walking over to her sacrifice. She pulls her familiar from its cage and walks over to the circle. It looks up confused before feeling the knife slit its throat. The girl tosses the corpse into the middle of the circle and began to chant in a low tone. She slices her palm and squeezes her bloodied hand over the hair and ribbon, dripping blood onto the dirty wooden floor. At first nothing happens, until she gets to the last verse of the ritual. Suddenly all of the candles’ flames burn much more intensely and much taller. A howling wind whirls through the small wooden room, picking up as she recites the last word. The wind snuffs out all the candles within the room, but the one in the middle of the room which becomes very small flame. The little amount of light barely allows her to see the feet of a large, ten foot demon standing in the middle of the circle. The girl kneels and whispers. “Great Mistress, I beg of thee to hunt my enemy until they are dead. You may do with her as you wish, as long as she perishes. Do you accept the terms of this contract, the reason for my summoning?” She asks softly, hoping the great demon before her would accept her sacrifice and contract. 

A hearty yet evil laugh echoes through the room. “Foolish girl, who do you wish me to kill? Who needs ME to kill them.” It asks the kneeling girl. The girl points to the small salt circle with the targets possessions. The demon flicks her hand and makes the salt move to create a channel to the circle and guide the bloodied ribbon and hair to her. The demon picks up the offered bloodied ribbon and hair. It brings it to her nose and takes a very deep breath, sucking in the scent of her summoner’s blood and the scent of her potential target. “Oooh my. You wish for me to hunt a Cavendish eh, girl?” The demon asks with a smirk. The girl simply nods and stays kneeled with her head lowered. “Then I accept your contract. Now let me free, let me feast upon some of your blood and grow in strength, then I will begin my hunt.” The girl looks up with a faint smile. 

“As you wish mistress Mara.” the girl replies to Mara, the demon of death, desire, greed, and hate.

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Diana settles down into her second class of the day, setting her books on the desk and sighing as she leans back into her chair. Akko had gotten in trouble again by falling asleep, much to Diana’s chagrin. She shakes her head thinking of the goofy, pain in the ass, but lovable brunette. Diana pulls out her notebook and opens it as well as the book to the pages written on the chalkboard. As class begins she tries to concentrate on her notes and the professor. Her mind drifts occasionally to Akko, particularly the way her half pony bobs when she does literally anything. She smiles faintly and stops her small sketch of the pony tail to try and pay attention once more. Diana had no clue how she could possibly express her recently found feelings about Akko. She didn’t really care that she was a girl, but she wasn’t sure if Akko would feel the same, or even want to be her friend after finding out about Diana’s affection towards her. Diana sighs softly and looks up to the front of the class once more, feeling a little distressed from her thoughts. 

As Diana tries to once again get back into her school work mode she gets interrupted by a fairly large rumble through the building. She quirked her eyebrow and looked around at the other confused students. Their professor walks towards the door and peeks around outside to see what was happening. As she peers outside, the wall opposite explodes and throws many students and debris around. Diana gets tossed onto the floor by the explosion, her senses getting muddied by the boom. She sits up in a blind panic and grabs her wand, ready for whatever was about to walk through the large, smoking hole in the wall. She was not ready for the demon who had grown three fold since it had been summoned. The demon grinned widely as she crotched and shuffled into the lecture hall. Diana’s eyes widen as it seems to stare into her soul and move directly at her. Diana raises her wand, pointing it at the nearing demon, hoping to protect herself and the other stunned students. 

“Difranieado.” Diana mutters while scuttling backwards on the ground, past the strewn desks. The explosive spell hurdles at the demon who flicks her hand and deflects the explosion. Diana’s eyes widen even more as the creature simply swatted the spell, taking the hit to the hand with little consequence. The skin on Mara’s hand is slightly irritated by the spell, Mara looks at it and smirks. 

“That is the power I expect from a young Cavendish.” She replies, reaching down for a panicked and frozen Diana. Diana manages to roll out of the way of the giant hand and get to her feet. Mara keeps smirking and swats her hand sideways, throwing desks as she moves to hit Diana. 

Diana barely manages to throw herself to the ground, managing to only let her leg get caught by the swinging hand. She gets thrown twenty feet along the cascading floor. She grunts each time she slides down a level until she stops and pulls her leg to her chest and mutters a quick healing spell to make the pain dull. She looks up at the massive demon crouch walking closer to her. Diana gets up and points her wand at the smirking demon as she gets once more in arms reach. “What do you want with me?!” Diana yells at the demon. She checks her shoulder and sees most of the students have fled the room, leaving a few unconscious girls strewn about. Diana quickly looks back at the demon as it leans down towards Diana.

“I am MARA! Demon of death! I have a contract that involves you little Cavendish.” She leers in Diana’s face. Diana flinches and casts a quick protection spell around herself, seeing Mara’s hand raising off to her side. Mara swats Diana once more, launching her in her little bubble through the wall of the classroom and then the exterior wall. Diana grunts as she gets launched, thankful for her barrier as she crashes through two walls and skids across the grass. Mara quickly follows through the holes, making them bigger. “Strong Little Cavendish. How cute.” She growls as Diana stands on shaky legs. Diana’a hair hangs in her face, making her brush it behind her ears as she crouches with her wand outstretched. Mara laughs and starts taking long strides towards Diana. Soon Mara is fully sprinting towards Diana who breathes as calmly as possible with the huge demon charging at her. 

When Mara is almost able to grab her, Diana swings her wand up, making the ground in front of her rise in a thick block of dirt and stone. She quickly lands flat on the ground as Mara kicks the blockage and is sent sprawling over her and into the dirt. Mara grunts, plowing through the dirt. She pushes herself up with an angry glint in her eyes. Diana quickly crawls around the heavily damaged block and looks at Mara get up through the smashed top.

“Sneaky Little Cavendish.” Mara growls. Mara looks right at Diana’s blonde hair, visible through the dent in the block. “Now I really shall enjoy killing you and all of these little pests.” Mara gestures to the school with an evil glint in her eyes. Diana’s eyes widen in fear at the statement and pulls herself up onto the rock, steeling her nerves.   

“Never Mara!” Diana yelled, bringing Mara’s attention back to her. Diana stands defiantly with her wand ready. Mara chuckles, but stays quiet before beginning to charge Diana again. Diana sends another heavy explosive spell right at Mara, making the demon dodge to the side before continuing to sprint right at Diana. Diana takes a deep breath and points her wand up, making her rock slab rise further from the ground. Diana launches herself in the air as Mara plows her arms through the rock, crumbling it. Diana lands behind Mara and shoots a fiery blast at the back of the angered Mara. Mara gets hit in the back and stumbles forward a step. She turns quickly and raises her arm to blast the same spell right at Diana, this one though is ten times more powerful. Diana throws up another defensive spell, using all the magic she could to reinforce the shield. Mara was impressed at Diana’s quick thinking and skill for her age, even though she was no match for the great and powerful Mara. Diana’s shield gets crumbled by the blast, sending her skidding backwards through the dirt, making a trench. Mara smirks and walks slowly towards the crumpled, smoking girl. 

“Poor Little Cavendish. You are no match for me. Now come along, we must have our fun with the other little pests here.” Mara reaches down to pick up Diana, only to find the slumped girl to disappear as her hand touches her. Mara frowns and feels another fiery blast hit her side, sending her to the ground with a grunt. 

Diana stands on wobbly legs on the edge of the school building, leaning against it for support. Her clothes are tattered and burned after the hit she took. She felt drained after her invisibility spell and hologram. She takes deep shaky breathes as Mara stands up, looking even more angry. “You little pest.” Mara spits onto the ground, causing the dirt to sizzle. “I will now really have fun, torturing, killing, destroying everything you love or even care about.” Mara begins to summon demonic wolves from the dirt around her. Five smouldering wolves dig their way up from the ground and encircle Mara. “Go my beasts. Bring me the girl.” She says with a snarl. Diana panics, turning to run as best as she can, struggling with her hurt leg and limping heavily.

Diana slips into the classroom she had been originally attacked in and rushes to the door and out into a different hallway then the one she had been flung through. She hobbles quickly down the deserted hallway, searching for anyone to help her. She hears the demonic wolves howling and running around the room behind her, sending desks clattering across the stone floor. She pushes into a different classroom and shuffles up into the back of the room’s seating area. Diana ducks down behind a desk and pulls her legs close to her body as she breathes heavily. The demon dogs could be heard out in the hallway walking around, their claws scratching the stone floors loudly. Diana closes her eyes and hopes they can’t find her. She racks her brain for an idea that could help her escape or combat the wolves. Her eyes snapped open and she pulls out her wand with an idea. She starts to cast a spell to disrupt her scent when she realizes she cannot hear the dogs anymore. She breathes out a sigh of relief only to have the desk flipped over her and smelly jaws grab her shirt roughly. The dogs pull Diana roughly from her hiding spot and drag her towards the exit. Diana yells loudly and swings her fists at the animals as they nip at her teasingly. 

Diana feels the dread build up inside of her, realizing she dropped her wand. Her desperate swings at the snapping beasts begin to dwindle, not because of the bite marks on her hands and wrists, but because she knows she lost. The animals drag her out into the bright light of the courtyard where Mara is standing. 

Mara doesn’t notice her demonic dogs pulling the defeated Diana from the school, she has a shield up protecting her front easily from the onslaught of attacks from the professors. Diana doesn’t get hopeful as she watches weakly. Her resolve is broken, the despair had set in making her feel hopeless as the professors fight to protect the school from a formidable demon. Their attacks get absorbed by the shield, making it stronger as Mara holds it up in front of her. Mara checks her shoulder and smiles, seeing her wolves bringing their prey back to her. “Good beasts. Bring her and deal with these pests.” Mara commands. The animals lurch forward, depositing a weak Diana at Mara’s feet before charging the professors. 

The professors change the direction of their attacks to the charging wolves. The wolves dodge back and forth as they near the professors. A few get peppered with spells, making them angry, causing their hackles to ignite with fire. Diana watches from the ground next to Mara as the professors manage to take down two wolves and banish them. The other three back off and jump through the windows of the school. The group of professors break up, sending two squads into the school to hunt down the animals before they can terrorize any students. The last squad tries to keep Mara busy with more attacks. Mara simply laughs and throws her shield towards the group, making it explode and shower the remaining professors with a black sludge. Most of the professors manage to shield themselves from the toxic sludge, their shields struggling against the powerfully acidic goo. The poor professors who could not protect themselves in time or did not generate a powerful enough shield get melted with faint screams of horror. 

Diana watches on in horror as Mara, gleefully stomps over to the covered and stuck professors. “Oh little toys, your efforts are for naught.” She teases the struggling women. Suddenly the two groups that had split off come back. Mara looks up and quickly steps back as strong assault comes her way. She protects herself with another shield, watching as one group keeps her somewhat busy, the other clearing away the sludge to save their colleagues. Mara frowns, unhappy with this small delay to her plans to level the school. “Pesky vermin.” She growls. 

Mara walks back to where Diana is limply laying on the grass. She picks her up and charges at the professors, causing the professors to scatter. Mara leaps up onto the wall, digging her fingers into the old stone. She begins to climb to the roof, launching off into the main grounds. She tosses Diana onto the ground without a second thought, hearing the scream of pain as the girl hits the ground hard. Mara stands over Diana and begins to chant, moving her arms around her and generating her special barrier. Magical walls begin to rise from the ground, rising over her head to form a transparent dome of protection. Mara smiles and looks down at poor Diana. “Oh Little Cavendish, I shall enjoy destroying this despicable place.” Mara points a single finger at Diana and blasts her with a powerful force of air, just to toy with her. Mara’s lips curl into an evil smile, watching Diana fade to unconsciousness. ”Pity, I thought you would enjoy the destruction of your school.” She floats Diana up next to her to show her off to anyone that comes to battle against her. “My trophy.” She says gleefully as the professors conjugate outside of the school, facing her.

The professors begin assaulting the powerful barrier with everything they have. Loud booms,  cracks, and whistles echo around the school grounds as the spells explode against the barrier or deflect off the powerful and ancient magic. Mara cackles from within her barrier. She occasionally sends powerful attacks at small groupings of professors, sometimes she singles out some of the professors, sending them flying through the air if they cannot move fast enough. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mara thinks back to that day, one week ago. Where did that little pest, the one that ruined her plan, come from. She could not place it. Mara got frustrated and smashed the nearest trees to herself. She fumes about her loss to some pesky little girl, some girl who almost destroyed the most powerful barrier spell able to be cast by a single being in one hit. Mara clenches and unclenches her fists in anger. “I swear. I swear I shall kill the Little Cavendish. And her little lackey. They shall both die.” She mutters to herself. 

Mara rubs her back, feeling the charred flesh from the explosion that finished her dome. She growled, hating her injured state. Although she had mostly healed herself from the attack, she was still slightly disfigured after the assault. Her summoner had implied it would have been an easy task. It should have been an easy task for a greater demon, yet here she was, hiding in the woods recovering from wounds inflicted by a single mortals attack.

Mara begins to draw in the dirt next to where she sat angrily. She made herself at home in the depths of the Articus forest after having to flee from the girl. Mara spat into the dirt image she drew and watches her spit make the ground bubble. “I shall kill you both. And I shall make it painful.” She swore to herself. The rough sketch of Akko and Diana in the dirt melts away into the boiling dirt as Mara plans her revenge.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

I wrote this a while ago (4 months?) . Sorry it’s so long, but that’s the drawback of insomnia and no one to gush about a movie to...

Short verson? Unexpectedly I really liked an obscure old western called To the Last Man, basically because the romance at it’s center really connected with me. 

It’s interesting when a movie takes you by surprise.

I’ve been watching a a DVD set Pop fished out of a $5 bin a very long time ago. It’s one of those “20 movies crammed onto two discs, and how watchable the image and sound are doesn’t matter” kind of things. And geez, some of these look horrible. In the case of one movie there were times I couldn’t even tell which character was on screen. These are the sort of churned out discs where the just throw whatever they can get a hold of onto it, quality be damned.

 Not being a huge western fan, and having recently endured a similar set of early John Wayne films Pop had * I wasn’t looking forward to it at all. Still, it was the last of the unwatched movie DVDs so I figured I might as well play them.

Turns out they have been a facinating variety of westerns, covering at least 40 years. For instance one film was a a spaghetti western that actually involved a circus ** and a film next to it was a pilot to a 1970s tv show set in 1914 with the heroes traveling the west in a car. 

Which leads me to the biggest surprise so far, a barely movie length film from 1933 called To the Last Man. 

Now I went into it expecting very little. It was one of those movies so short it wouldn’t be considered feature length now, a western staring Randolph Scott who always seems to fade from my memory as soon as I finish a film. *** Even after it started it seemed to be a Hatfield and McCoy style family fued migrating west, with an already old fashioned silent era quirk of putting the names of the character and actor on screen when they first appeared. And then they added a Romeo and Juliet to the story…

Again I had low expectations, When they introduced the girl, daughter of the baddie family, I thought I knew exactly where it was going. Once out west the girl is a bronco busting, sometimes trouser wearing despite being the 19th century, kind of gal. I liked her, which made me dread the romance ahead.

See stories have traditionally had problems with romances involving  non-traditional women. 

In some stories the woman will be there for the fella, saving his life or something like that, but whatever affections he may have for her the love will be unrequited. Sometimes she dies, sometimes she gets a supporting character love interest, but always the hero goes off with the traditional princess type girl.

 In the stories where there is dainty, aloof beauty for the hero to moon over instead, they go a different route. Those are the stories where women are tamed. The hero often mocks and teases the woman for her non-traditional ways, even outright bullying her and accusing her of not being a “real” woman. She goes through an awkward phase of attempting to be properly feminine, to humorous effect, before eventually transforming into what a woman is “supposed’ to be for the love of her man.

I hate those, both of them. With the first,  I find myself grumbling the gal is to good for him if he cares more about a proper bit of styling and pretty face than courage or kindness. With the second, it’s even worse. Love does NOT demand that the person you love deny their nature and remake themselves to satisfy your tastes. If they have to change into something else to earn your love then you don’t love them at all. 

Anyway, I was sure how this was gonna go, especially with references in the conversation between the father and his thug pal about her wildness. This was gonna be a taming. I liked her as she was, and they were going to break her…

But I was wrong! 

The initial “meet cute” involved her swimming (naked…it was1933) and being harrassed by the thug until the hero rides up and intervened. When afterwards they chatted I was surprised. Sure it was flirty and established their attraction, but in more authentic way than I expected. When he refered to her as a lady and she assumed he was mocking her, in most movies there would be truth in her belief. But not here. To be honest I was as thrown as she was by his sincerity.

Later she talked to one of her father’s men, trying to figure out how a lady would dress because she wanted to dress that way before heading out to find the hero. I thought, “oh no, here it comes”, but again I was wrong. The conversation was sweet as the guy used his mother as an example and offered to help the girl go shopping, only to have her say she couldn’t wait that long. The hero would be camping for the night nearby, so she would have to go find him wearing her usual ratty clothes. She did NOT do the comedy attempt to fancy up!

And then we get to the campfire scene.

They may have met while she was swimming, but he has a body too. She surprises him as he shirtlessly shaves, so there is a bit of admiring the male form, complete with her saying she would think he was “soft” (for shaving so often in her rough world) if it weren’t for the fact she could see his strong arms. Even now too many movies don’t do something as simple as this: Let the man be physically admired by the woman.

During their conversation after he dresses, for all her attraction she is also self conscious of her rough around the edges appearance. When he notes her bare feet must find the mountains painful, she is defensive, expecting it to be a slight. But he quickly reassures her that no insult was meant, and it’s true. He didn’t. Not once in that scene, or in any scene, did he ever belittle her or tell her that she is somehow wrong for being herself.

When he was ready to say goodnight she announces she is staying. While she does tell him he must treat her “like a man” for the night, it’s still a woman boldly telling a man she’s spending the night with him whatever ended up happening after the fade out.

Now next morning she fixes him breakfast. In most movies this would either be the comical “non-traditional woman inept at proper womanly skills” or it would be the “non-traditional woman embraces properly womanly role because of love”. It was neither. She fixed him breakfast, an affectionate gesture to be sure,  but no fuss was made of it. She cooked it skillfuly and he didn’t seem astonished. It was just….breakfast.

Naturally as they are now head over heels for each other, this is when they find out each other’s family names, with the expected emotional turmoil. Now you would expect a few hostile scenes between them before they get over the whole feud thing, but they actually get over it quickly. By the time he buys gifts for his reunion with his family, he buys one more gift for her. And sure, when he leaves it where she can find it she at first angrily tosses it in the fire…before fishing it out. The fact is they are still in love, family war or not.  

About that gift..yes, it is a dress, but it doesn’t feel like a judgement or a nudge but a gift given with love of something she desires. He doesn’t know that when her father got out of prison he commented on her shabby dress,which she explained was her only dress after the hard life she’d had to live. He does know she was self conscious about the dress she wore when they met. It feels like a thoughtful gesture.  

The next time they are together, her family has stollen his family’s horses and she is joyfully riding the horse his brother had recently given to him. This would be a  moment for a lot of shouting and protesting that their own families were in the right. Instead we see little of the encounter except from the viewpoint of the distant thug. Considering the couple kiss and he smilingly sees her off on what had been his horse, I really don’t think there was much shouting.

Naturally the thug, who has designs on her,  tells her father abouther romance. The dress she’d hidden away is dug out as proof. She defiantly says she intends to wear the dress at her wedding to the hero, and her father lashes her. It’s off camera but we see him swinging the whip, so whoa, horrible daddy there! 

Stuff happens with the feud, which I’ve almost totally ignored**** despite it being the main plot, which culminates in the thug engineering a rock slide. The only survivor of the men folk from both clans is, of course, our hero. As he staggers to the girl’s home he seems horribly injured and dazed almost to senselessness. There is no sudden miraculous recovery for the sake of love scenes, fights or plot.  This is convincing the way 99% of all action movies ever aren’t when it comes to traumatic injuries. He needs care..

So here comes the thug. The girl quickly hides the hero in the loft and goes to work to deal with the villian. She has to feign normalicy, then react as he would expect her to react, while he makes clear she is to be considered his property and she has to figure out how to play that considering she is trying to hide her beloved. The dazed hero can hear what’s going on, tries to aim his gun, and drops it. The villian know the hero is there, so it’s time for a fight scene..l.

And the fight is between the villian and the girl!! And this is no dainty girly crap like so many movies have thrown at us. 

Mom and I used to have this thing of yelling at the screen “Hit him!!!!!” whenever heroes and villians would fight and the love interest would stand by looking helpless. I mean, I dunno about you but if someone is trying to kill someone I love they are gonna find themselves fuckin’ fughting TWO people!

And here the girl was doing some serious full body, roll on the floor punching and biting fighting. This wasn’t damsel in distress “You brute!” thumps at the chest or gingerly smashed vases on the head. She fought like she was trying to save the life of someone she loved. Which should be expected, but isn’t when watching an old western.

Alright, so the hero does finally do in the baddie by dropping down with a knife…but now that I think about it maybe SHE was the hero of the movie anyway.

Well, maybe to me she was because she was my identification character. Most of these westerns haven’t had women I could relate to at all, and here was one I related to on some very deep level. I got her. 

Now my family was nothing like hers, not only in the lack of violence (with the ones exception of a relative you can guess) but that they were hardly uneducated (say hello to the ONLY relative I even know of that didn’t graduate college…that would be me BTW) Heck, Pop was a total sweetheart.

And yet I got her. 

An unconventional woman type myself, I never learned the girly stuff. Partly that was accidental and partly it was impractical for the life we lived. I did have to be willing to be rough and tumble, with no line between guy stuff and girl stuff. When I was a kid I was also the only girl in a neighborhood of boys where being a sissy was the worst insult and you had to be ready to fight. I was the girl that swam in the river and played in the woods. And for various reasons ( would take a while to explain) I’ve spent most of my life in worn out work clothes. 

Actually that’s an aspect that makes her resonate even more: clothes. 

I don’t dress like her, but I have my own version shabby woods girl going on. As I write this I’m wearing one of my father’s old t-shirts with holes in it, jeans worn at the knees, a broken hair barrette in my hair, and steel toed men’s work boots on my feet. 

Now there are reasons for all of these. The practicalities of farm amd woods life, being poor enough I’d have to choose between new clothes or things like books, a childhood trauma that gave me a lifelong desire to dress for fight or flight, not having a social life so 99% of the time no human sees me, living in a rural area with no credit card for onlinr ordering and, in the case of the boots, just the fact they are all I can find locally that work with the ankle braces my flat feet force me to wear.

But notice what is missing from all these reasons: fashion. I almost never get to wear clothes I actually like. I’d flip through catalogs or wander stores and imagine wearing this or that. I have strong feelings about clothes I like or don’t, but no real chance to express it. I actually fantasize about that, living the sort of lifestyle where even if you are adventuring you get to pick clothes you want to wear.

Somewhere along the line people started assuming I what I wear reflects my taste, or rather lack there of. I used to ask my cousin at Christmas to please give me something pretty. She couldn’t understand it as a request, but folks just never thought of me as wanting pretty things. What would it have been like, just once, to try to be pretty. 

Actually I’d probably have been laughed at, a comedy buffoon, the hideous lady trying to look cute, the ugly step sister. Just as well life never gave me a chance to try. 

So being self conscious about my appearance is normal for me. I know how I look to people. I also know from experience that people can be cruel, and have taken my share of insults and mocking. In her position I would have thought he was making fun of me too and reacted almost exactly like her. In fact, I have. 

Here is a heroine I can relate to, and she gets the fantasy too. The fella falls in love with her, and loves her as is, not as a fix it upper. He loves her and doesn’t tease her about things where she is sensitive. He gives her a gift of something pretty just because he thinks she will like it. She gets to admire him (and his strong arms). She even gets to fight the bad guy to save him! 

Geez, of course I ended up loving the movie!

Never saw that coming, a Randolph Scott film I will actually remember! But the question is, will I finally remember his face or just his arms?

*NOT  a John Wayne fan, and these were some sort of 1930s filler less than an hour formula stuff.

**I REALLY enjoyed this one, but of course I have a thing for circuses. Woody Strode as a trapeze artist gunfighter and Victor Buono as the big bad were nice bonuses.

***That’s always puzzled me. I usually have an excellent memory for faces from movies, but I forget his instantly.

****Also forgotten, Buster Crabbe, Shirley Temple and the rest of the costars. 

[ravenvsfox]

The much requested Rockband AU Chapter Two! (Coming soon to an AO3 near you)

The bleached hair doesn’t match his skin tone. His shirt is too big for his shoulders, and it slips to one side or the other so that he keeps having to tug the neckline up to his throat, but Andrew’s already seen the white raking down his shoulder, the scars worked into his skin like sequins and thread.

Neil reminds Andrew of the foster kids he used to live with, the hand-me-downs pulled over stunted identities, oversized cuffs dragging their feet down when they tried to run, bruises on wrists under oversized sleeves.

He can’t help the way his eyes keep skirting back to Neil, like he’s the only frequency in all the static of the crowd that’s coming through clearly.

He thought maybe if he was sober that the bubble trapped in his throat would burst, but it’s so much bigger now that he’s choking on it.

Neil is tossed back and forth with the rest of the crowd, but he stands out; there’s something in his eyes that makes them visible from the back of the stage. He glows like neon, white hair and white scars, glinting piercings in his nose and ears, stud flashing in his tongue.

Andrew throws himself at his drum-kit like it’s a punching bag, and the tempest of the crowd roars back at him. Kevin tries to skid sideways into a solo, but Andrew keeps playing, falling into a brand new tempo, a gallop that Kevin can’t keep up with. The sounds grate, sparks fly, and Andrew would be feeling it, if he were high, the discord would make him laugh and laugh.

It all sounds intentional, and Kevin’s sweating when he plays chunky chords and stinging vibrato, ad libbing his way back to the chorus. Andrew lets him do what he wants. It doesn’t feel worth it to sabotage their set. He can feel distraction setting in like winter.

When he’s at his lowest, sober and dried up, he feels sick, all stuffed up with no sense of taste. He can tell from the textures and the sense memory what the flavours are supposed to be, but he can’t feel anything.

The song ends in lyrics that Kevin yells more than sings, and Andrew smashes the cymbal a few times until it matches his heartbeat. The crowd erupts in applause, hollering so loudly that he can’t hear himself anymore. 

He looks back at Neil, like scratching an itch, and finds him grinning at the ceiling, caught up in the adrenaline and a high that Andrew can’t parse, booze or pills or euphoria.

Their eyes brush. Neil slicks his sweaty hair back with both hands and pops his tongue between his teeth, silver winking. Andrew just barely raises an eyebrow. He throws his drumsticks on the ground and they clatter between mic stands and cables as he leans forward to swipe the flask from Nicky's back pocket. He jolts, his guitar swinging away from his body when he rounds on him.

“Thought you were staying sober tonight?” he hisses.

“Changed my mind,” Andrew says, unscrewing the flask. Their fans are laughing, heckling affectionately, shouting their support when Andrew knocks back most of the whiskey.

His stomach is empty and so are his chest and his head, so when the first shot hits his stomach, his whole body burns. He holds the back of his hand to his mouth while he waits for a buzz to take. Nicky hands him his sticks back and wrestles the flask away.

“Someone thought now was a good time to pre-game,” Nicky says into the microphone. “The good news is,” he laughs, “there’s a bar on your left, and we’re all in this together.” He raises the flask and the crowd laughs and clinks glasses.

Andrew hits the snare angrily, and it makes a sound like a startled snake.

“Listen up,” Kevin says, more strict teacher than bassist in a rock band. The houselights are wound down to nothing, and his face is hollowed out by the crossbeams of blue spotlights. “We’re gonna play a song called ten times faster.”

“A song for all you lovers out there,” Nicky jokes.

“Not quite,” Aaron says, lazily retuning his guitar.

“More like, a song for when you’re tripping balls and you hit the fucking ceiling.”

“It’s about escaping,” Andrew corrects. He says it low, away from the microphone, but he could swear that Neil’s head snaps towards him; his gaze climbs up the stage and takes Andrew by the shoulders.

He says, ‘I know what you're after

we’ll do it in the dark, call it natural disaster’

you’re out for blood, I’ll draw it ten times faster

if my teeth are bared you can’t call it laughter

top floor, I’m too high for you to catch, uh

I’m running out so this is never gonna last, your

not catching up, ‘cause now I’m ten times faster

The whiskey is blood-hot on his tongue, but the lyrics burn hotter. He can’t touch them without recoiling. They were rotting inside of him before he wrote them down. The crowd tries to ingest ideas that they don’t understand, and their bodies spasm like they’re rejecting a transfusion.

Letting Aaron bow his head over his guitar and streak through the chords he wrote to accompany one of his breakdowns is one of the ugliest things Andrew has ever allowed to happen.

He thinks about putting the words in Neil’s mouth and it makes his fists clench around his sticks.

He kicks into overdrive until his wrists strain and sweat gets in his eyes, and then he hammers his way through the line up of drums, looking for a crash big enough to punch his eardrums out, to shriek with feedback and blow out the sound system.

The song screams to a close, fans clap and call for more, Kevin drinks vodka from a plastic tumbler, Nicky keeps curtseying to get the audience to laugh. Neil peers up at them with his shirt falling down all over again, grey fabric patched with humidity and spilled liquor.

Andrew thinks, bleak, flushed down to his wrists, I brought this on myself.

_______

Neil finds them when they’re hefting their equipment out from a backstage platform to the parking lot. It’s an assembly line of passing and loading that Andrew stays apart from, sitting sideways in the front seat of the van with his feet kicked up on the door, smoking from the clear, petite bong that Nicky usually keeps in his cupholder.

He meets Neil's eye for a second, then viciously ignores him, slipping the bowl out by its stem to clear the smoke. It’s too much for one hit, and it spills out of his mouth, fogs his vision, sits down on his chest so he can’t really focus on anything but the high.

Neil’s saying something to Nicky, hopping down out of the loading docks to help them.

“You were good,” Neil says, closer now, “without the drugs.” He has this pointed look on his face, those viciously blue eyes are street signs that Andrew can’t read.

He puts the bong down behind him, focusing hard, and when he looks up, whatever usually holds his tongue isn’t there anymore. “Ah, but I don’t want to be good, Neil,” he says, thin laughter like syrup drizzled over everything. “I want to see how badly I have to play to be kicked out of the band. It’s a game I play.”

“I don’t believe you,” Neil says, angry, defensive on Andrew’s behalf. “If you really wanted to, you’d pull one of those knives.” He nods at Andrew’s unassuming black armbands, heavy with concealed blades. “Trash the place.”

“Oh,” Andrew says. He doesn't want to laugh again, but the weed makes him overly conscious of the way his mouth works, and of Neil's mouth, and of what they are and aren’t to each other. “He thinks because he’s been watching for a minute that he knows who I am.”

“No.” Neil’s brow twists. “I’m trying to figure out why someone with your talent isn’t living up to your potential. You could play stadiums with that talent, I mean, your—the stage presence alone—Andrew?”

He hops out of the car and slams the door to overcompensate for the way he stumbles. The high softens his joints and the ground bucks up and tries to pull him close. “Hmm. Rather not.”

“That’s crazy,” Neil says, following him. His shoes are scuffed and his shirt is coming untucked and that tongue piercing, that red split of his mouth—

“Don’t really like that word,” Andrew says, feverish and unstable, his whole body a balancing act gone wrong. Neil’s starting to look like a smoky mirage, a fantasy who doesn’t know how to be one.

“I don’t care what you like,” Neil says, impatient, and Andrew tips his grin up to the dusky sky, on the edge of panic, feeling the drugs make everything huge, feeling himself get smaller.

“That’s what they all say.” He stops short, on the edge of the parking lot, cold air buffeting against the heat of the drugs, both trying to find purchase in his addled brain. Neil comes around to face him, and when Andrew steps forward, he steps back, maintaining the pocket of space between them. Something in Andrew’s chest gets crushed flat like a soda can. “For someone with no identity, you seem overly interested in mine.”

Neil’s face contorts. He’s so easy to read when he’s caught off guard. That, or the drugs make Andrew think he can see things that aren't there. “I’ve told you who I am.”

“No, no, no,” Andrew replies. “You’ve given me a first name, and a debt, and a conflicted childhood, but you don’t sound like you’ve meant a single word of it.”

“I can’t convince you of the truth if you don't want to believe it,” Neil retorts. His piercings are like scattered silverware. His lies curl so prettily in his mouth that Andrew thinks, I could suck you until there’s nothing left but honesty.

“I’m tired of this conversation,” Andrew says definitively. “You underestimate how many times I’ve been lied to.”

“Josten,” Neil says. Andrew cocks his head, sluggish. “Neil Abram Josten. I’m a singer. I don’t like you, or understand you. That’s all you need to know.”

“It’s mutual,” Andrew says, meaning it. He hates the way Neil looks and acts and the way the two never match up for long enough to create a clear picture. “Your obsession with performing is already grating.”

“Your indifference is infuriating,” Neil replies. “We’re even.”

“We’re not,” Andrew says. It’s dangerous, how much he’s starting to feel. All the colour he’s putting in his voice is sticky and saturated on the roof of his mouth. “You were floundering and I stopped you from drowning, remember?”

“Do you want me to say thank you?” Neil snarls, that fascinating, hair-trigger temper. He fists his hand in his own shirt and Andrew tracks the movement, off-centre, hazy, when Neil yanks the collar down to expose the vicious blue brushing from where Andrew hit him with the guitar. The scars slither into the window of exposed skin, and Neil seems to realize all at once what he’s doing. The shirt bounces back, wrinkled.

“If you think I needed to be saved from the back of a bar with my pockets full of cash, then you don’t really know what drowning looks like.”

Andrew grabs him by the scruff of his shirt, that grey slipping neckline that he’s been eyeing all night. He trips them both back a couple of steps, losing his balance, but Neil must think he’s being intimidated, because he grabs Andrew’s wrist hard. 

The tattooed word yes stares back at him from beneath the dramatic slope of Neil’s jaw. “Au contraire,” he says, and he’s smiling, but he can’t pry the seriousness from his tone, or his hands from Neil’s chest. “Everything I do is from underwater.”

“Then what exactly is it that you think you can do for me except slow me down?” Neil asks, forcing himself away from Andrew’s grip and stumbling into the patch of sidewalk right before the curb becomes open road.

“I gave you a spot in our line up, but that won’t keep you alive,” Andrew says. “I’ve heard there are people out for your blood. Or was that another lie?”

Neil ignores his last question, shoulders rising. “Are you threatening me?”

“So touchy,” Andrew teases. “I’m doing the opposite, actually. If you’re with us you’re with us. No one can touch you.”

Neil’s eyes flicker over him, brows pulling further and further together. “You’re offering—what? Protection? Before you even know what I’m dealing with?”

“Your monsters don’t scare me.”

“Yours do,” Neil huffs, looking out at the blinking, spinning, beeping cityscape. “But okay. Deal.” He can tell from Neil’s face that he’s not really taking him seriously.

“Hey! Stop running off!” Nicky calls, out of breath, jogging towards them from halfway across the parking lot. 

Andrew wasn’t even aware of covering that much ground. His fists go loose at his sides. He can’t tell if it’s the pot or Neil’s devastating presence that’s scrambling everything into pieces.

“But that’s his M.O.,” Andrew calls back, and Neil snaps him a burning look, the crack of a match, the miracle of a flame.

“Well cut it out,” Nicky says good-naturedly, rolling to a stop in front of them. “I wanted to hear what you thought of the show while the adrenaline’s still fresh.” He leans down to Neil’s level, hands on his knees like he’s talking to a child, and Andrew shoves him back without thinking.

“You guys are better than me,” Neil says frankly. “I don’t know how I’m going to fit into your sound.”

“Oh fuck off,” Nicky says, at a measured distance now. “You’re a natural, like Andrew. And you’re obsessed, like Kevin, so there’s no way you’re not going to fit in. Now please can we get in the van, I packed a new bowl and I’m jonesing.”

“Where are we going now?” Neil asks carefully. Andrew can see the way he’s chafing in the Annapolis air, like he’s having an allergic reaction.

“Home,” Nicky says. “South Carolina.”

Neil nods jerkily. Andrew squints through the fog of his high, and he can see for the first time that Neil’s pretty drunk, he’s just been holding it in the pocket of his cheek and talking through it.

“How long is that drive?”

“Not long if you’re wasted,” Nicky says, and the energy of his excitement tips against Neil like a flame and sets him going. Andrew watches Neil smile through bitten lips and accept the refilled flask. “If we get you drunk enough can we hear those golden pipes of yours again? No one ever does karaoke with me.”

He’s steering them back through the parking lot, encouraging Neil to drain the swampy mixed liquor he’s put together from the drinks fans bought him. He always has this way of getting you where he wants you without you knowing it was his idea.

Neil sways forward like he’s grooving to music, his cheeks pink from the cold and alcohol. “I’ve never done karaoke before,” he says.

“You’re killing me,” Nicky complains. “What sort of sheltered fucking town did you crawl out of?”

Neil hesitates, and Andrew’s filterless mouth curls. “Baltimore,” he guesses. “One of his big bad secrets.”

“Oh shit!” Nicky exclaims, shoving Neil a little by the shoulder. “Less than an hour from home. You know, I can talk to Kev and we can totally drop in—“

“No,” Neil says, quick and harsh as a pulled tooth. “That’s not my home.”

“You don’t have one of those, right?” Andrew says. Neil’s eyes flicker towards him.

“Right,” he agrees, all the fight sapped out of his voice. Andrew looks out at the sleek shape of his van, the fogged up windows, Aaron and Kevin haloed by the yellow interior lights. He doesn’t know why, but his chest is a kicked in drum.

“We’ll make you one,” Nicky says gently. “Did you know that SC is famous for its peach pie? Doesn’t get homier than that.”

_______

Nicky nurses his bong from the back seat of the van as soon as they get back on the road. The water bubbles, and he deftly lights close to the side of the bowl to keep the burn steady. 

Andrew slouches in the middle seat, watching the low light exaggerate Nicky’s hollow cheeks and tease moving pictures out of Neil’s mouth when he sucks on his tongue piercing.

“It’s still cherry,” Nicky says hoarsely, and passes to Neil, who crooks the base against his knee and leans down to smoke.

His ashy hair brushes his downcast eyes, and Andrew shakes his head so that he doesn’t keep watching him.

“You shouldn’t be smoking,” Kevin calls from the passenger seat. When Andrew looks up, he’s twisted around in his seat to look at Neil, pupils too wide open to be natural.

“Forgive me if I don’t take advice from the man who choked me out today,” Neil says, smoke spilling out around his words. Andrew inhales.

“It’s not advice,” Kevin snaps. “It’s an order.”

Neil laughs, mean. “Nice try. I’ll follow your ‘orders’ when you prove you’re a worthy leader. Hasn’t happened yet.” He bows his head to take another hit.

“Andrew,” Kevin says imploringly.

“Uh uh,” Andrew scolds. “He said no.”

“No one takes this band seriously at all, do they?” Kevin says. He looks so perpetually disappointed. His talent is withering, and Andrew will only ever do enough to keep it alive, not to see it bloom.

“Ding ding ding,” Andrew says.

“Hey, I care, Kev,” Nicky says. “Ausreißer is like the second best thing in my life.”

“What—“ Neil starts.

“Don’t ask,” Aaron says, not looking away from the road.

“My fiancé Erik. 6’2” German supermodel. Swimmer’s body, blue eyes. You know my type.” Nicky winks at Neil, and Andrew’s lip curls.

“I didn’t know,” Neil says. His expression whispers that he’s even more uncomfortable with Nicky’s flirtation.

Nicky waves him off. “Fans don’t know much about us. Some don’t even know I’m related to the twins. Makes it easier to be kind of shitty if they don’t even really know our last names.”

“I suppose that’s not an option for you anymore, Josten,” Andrew says, loopy, the orange glow of the pot keeping him half distracted. Neil looks at him with those paint-spill eyes, and Andrew feels stupid for the way his feelings are talking over his thoughts.

“Good thing I have nothing to hide,” he replies.

“Oh, I hope that’s not true,” Nicky says.

“It’s not,” Andrew says. Headlights outside flash and fade over the three of them huddled in the back seats, crashing waves of bright white. 

Andrew wants to take Neil by the scars, like reins, and pull him up short. He wants the whirring behind Neil’s eyes to stop so he can take the tape out and unspool it.

“Can we talk music now?” Kevin says impatiently. “I want to figure out some backing vocals now that we have a lead.”

“Yes,” Neil says immediately. “What’s the plan?”

Andrew tunes them out. The air is still heavy with smoke. He’s not wearing a seatbelt, so the van is tossing him a little, his seat bucking, engine buzzing in his feet. 

He watches Neil drape himself over the back of the empty middle seat to look at Kevin, both of them talking about harmonies, using sound affects and hand gestures for time signatures, cocked towards each other like two loaded weapons caught in a stand off.

Andrew wonders what makes someone so obsessed and so detached at once.

He wonders if the flip and burn of his attraction to Neil made him do something stupid like tie himself to a runaway train.

The van cracks down the highway, and South Carolina charges towards them. He wonders if either of them will flinch before impact, or if he’ll hit home head-on like he always does.

________

They skid into Columbia before the sun’s all the way up, but it’s already steaming hot. Andrew squints at the familiar shape of the studio from the parking lot. It’s an obnoxious sunset orange building with graffiti around the side that says ‘no more monsters’. Underneath, someone’s spray-painted a rabid looking wolf in a circle with a bar through it.

Andrew waits to feel the roar and snap of anger, but his temple pulses with a headache, and he’s unmoved.

“Welcome to Palmetto Records, home of Ausreißer,” Nicky says, beaming. “And Foxes, if you’ve heard of them.”

“Foxes as in the girl group on the radio?” Neil asks incredulously. He looks a little grey and burnt out, hair raked back and shoes kicked off. He didn’t sleep all night, like he was proving a point about privacy, or he was insistent on keeping Andrew aware and preoccupied until sunrise.

“Their guitarist is Matt Boyd,” Kevin corrects.

“Nice dude,” Nicky says.

“But you sound nothing like them,” Neil says. “How can you even be part of the same label?”

“That’s not really how labels work,” Aaron says. He’s looking out through the windshield like he doesn’t want to go inside.

“We’re multi-genre,” Kevin says airily. “But we don’t really interact with them anyway.”

“He doesn’t,” Nicky says, rolling his eyes. “I like them. Dan’s kinda icy, but she’s a catch, Matt’s lucky. Allison’s a bitch. Renee’s definitely the best. Do what you will with that.” He rests his hand on the door handle and taps his fingers, jittery.

“Are they here a lot?” Neil asks. “Will I meet them?”

“You’re stalling,” Andrew interrupts.

Neil doesn’t even look at him, just sighs and reaches down for his bag.

It’s clear that he thinks this is the end of the road. The nebulous space in their lives between streetlights and chains of shared cigarettes could evaporate as soon as he crosses an official threshold.

Andrew can see the crease between his dark brows, his squared shoulders, the fingers pinching his belongings as if he’s getting ready to run with them.

Neil moves to open the door, and without thinking, Andrew says, “Wymack does not turn away talent.”

“He might turn it away if it’s attached to an idiot,” Aaron mutters.

Neil ignores him, and his mouth twitches in Andrew’s direction. “Talent? I thought you were difficult to ‘wow’?”

Andrew looks away. His head hurts.

“Come on, freaks,” Nicky says, pushing at Neil’s shoulder until he pulls the door open, dropping his shoes out on the pavement and stepping into them.

“Paperwork first, studio second,” Kevin says. “Don’t touch the equipment until you’ve read the contract.”

“This is all moot if your manager doesn’t want me,” Neil says, shouldering his bag and squinting against the pale morning sun.

“Whatever,” Nicky says. “We want you. Bad.”

“Don’t speak for me,” Aaron says.

“Debatable,” Kevin says.

Andrew says nothing.

They trudge towards the backdoor, and Andrew pushes past them to punch in the code. They push into the air-conditioned hallway, dark grey walls against pale flooring. 

He watches Neil react to the curve of the hall opening up into an orange and cream waiting room with leather couches, hallways forking in every direction, recording studios peering out from behind glass.

Neil’s eyes are wide, his shirt is still stained, tucked into jeans that are ripped up too high to be intentional, and his hair is fried, red bleeding into yellow. He looks the same way everyone looks when Wymack baits them into Palmetto, damaged and bribed, desperate for an out.

He also looks like he doesn’t trust the decor, like he felt safer in the claws of a crowd of strangers or the teeth of a hangover than he does in this quiet, tidy atrium, with four people between him and the exit.

“What did you drag in this time?”

Wymack stands sideways in the doorway with a hand on the wall, like he was passing by when he spotted them.

“We found a singer,” Nicky announces, grinning.

Wymack grimaces. “No.”

Nicky’s face falls. “Come on, boss.”

“We’re not making any more changes to the line up, Hemmick, no matter how much you want to bang them.”

“But Kevin worked out great! Kind of.”

A shadow passes over his face. “Kevin’s different.”

“This is Wymack,” Andrew tells Neil. “You are nothing to him until you’ve proven yourself to be useful.”

“You’re not nothing,” Wymack says sharply, addressing Neil directly. “I just don’t trust these fuckers as far as I can throw them.”

Neil’s eyes narrow. “Neither do I.” Wymack quirks a smile, doubtless picturing Neil trying to punt someone twice his size any distance at all.

“You should sign him,” Andrew says. Wymack steps further into the room, crossing his arms.

“You’re vouching for him? I don’t know if that should be a warning bell or a glowing review.”

Aaron snorts.

“He can sing,” Kevin chimes in. “He needs work, but I’m willing to put in the time if you are.”

Wymack raises a brow. “You’re all in on this? That’s new.”

“They’re desperate,” Neil says. “But I’m not. So if you’re going to interrogate me for much longer, I’ll go ahead and hitch a ride back to Virginia.”

“Oh he’s one of you, alright,” Wymack says tiredly. “You got a name?”

“Neil,” he says, swallowing. “Josten.”

“Neil Josten,” Wymack repeats. “You know what Ausreißer means?”

He shrugs, listing, “outlier. Runaway. Wild shot.”

“Right. Does that sound like a group that I have any control over?” he asks. His eyes are narrowed but his mouth is turned up, unthreatening.

“I think you think you do. You have their names written on some papers in a drawer somewhere, and you think that means you own them.” Neil’s expression is wild. He’s trying so hard to get out of a trap that he’s hurting himself.

“All I own is the nameplate for that office,” Wymack gestures behind him at a door that’s ajar halfway down the hall, “and the mini fridge in studio two. Sprung for it myself.”

“You’re the boss,” Neil says flatly.

“That’s what they call me,” Wymack agrees. “I open the door for people. They walk in or they don’t. Their call. Do you want in?”

“Depends. Does the door lock behind me?”

Wymack rolls his eyes. “You’re going to be a problem, aren’t you?”

“He already is,” Aaron says.

Wymack looks back and forth between them, vaguely amused. “Are you even legal, kid?”

Andrew watches Neil hesitate. “I’m twenty-one.”

“Well, come on in. Let’s get you someplace to sing.”

_______

Wymack leads them to the main recording studio, and as soon as they’re inside, Aaron drops his heavy backpack, and Nicky collapses into the wheeled leather chair in front of the control board.

“Alright.” Wymack jerks his thumb towards the live room. “Get in there. Sing me something pretty.”

“Can I make a request?” Nicky asks sweetly.

“No,” Neil says easily. He abandons his duffel and crosses the threshold towards the sealed off equipment, propped up microphones, and heaps of wires. “I know what I want to sing.”

He worries his tongue stud briefly, pulling the mic down to his level. He looks so washed out in the harsh overhead light, but it’s not bad on him. He’s too athletic and cocksure to look sick.

“Now?” Neil asks. his fist is clenched at the base of the microphone, and his gravity is clipped to that point.

“Unless you’re waiting for some sort of divine intervention,” Wymack says, “now would be good.”

Neil breathes in. Andrew doesn’t.

He starts singing one of Andrew’s songs, but he’s pitched it higher, trussed it up in that crystal clear tone he’s got, and thrown in candied pieces of ornamentation. 

Just like the first time, his shoulders relax, his neck arches, and the music wanders out of him like it’s looking for victims, like it’s stronger the more people it absorbs.

Andrew’s so gutted, so trapped, that he almost doesn’t realize that it’s the song they were playing when he first spotted Neil, when he was playing a character, drunk and lost, skulking around for things to steal.

They’re both completely sober now, and Neil is incredible when he’s glass-clear. His voice expands and expands, and he’s so close to the microphone that his lips whisper across it.

Andrew’s words aren’t ugly when Neil sings them. He makes his crumpled papers into airplanes. He sets the studio on fire. Andrew looks away, and it’s like pulling a hand off a stovetop and losing half his skin.

Wymack is easing back on the couch, smiling, and Nicky’s spinning laughing circles in his chair. Kevin’s gone perfectly still like he does when he’s reading Andrew’s lyrics for the first time. Aaron’s leaning all the way forward, head propped on his hand, focused.

When he turns back to watch Neil’s cracked face, heart pounding, he wonders how someone with such tough, impenetrable skin can sing like he’s being bled.

[pickalilywrites]

bringing back this au ♡ ♡ ♡

Let’s Talk About Love!

Rivetra. Dating Show AU. 

Let’s Fall in Love! series: Part I

2736 words. 

Buy me a ko-fi!

“I know you said you didn’t really care about the show, but it looks like you’re pretty excited for this interview of No Name’s,” Eld says, glancing at the television screen that his other bandmates were currently fixated on. He looks back at his friends, who are all piled up on the bed together and waiting for the commercial break to end so that the late-night talk show will return. “And it’s not like we need more advertising. That show that Petra’s doing is getting us a lot more album sales than we could have gotten by ourselves.”

“I guess,” Petra mutters. She’s certainly pleased about how album sales are doing. Their last album sales are going through the roof despite being released almost a year ago, and the rest of their albums are in high demand as well. A few years ago, their band the Special Ops Squad was almost unheard of, but now they’re one of the most talked about rock bands in the music industry and it’s all because of a weird dating show. Of course, not all the talk is good. “I think I’d be happier about album sales if crazy No Name fangirls weren’t just buying them to burn them or smash them to pieces just to show how much they hate me.”

“Hate us,” Auruo corrects her, putting a reassuring hand on Petra’s shoulder. She knows he means well, but his words do little to make her feel any better. The face mask he has on doesn’t help either. “We’re a band. Whatever happens – the good, the bad, the dirty – we’re in this together.”

“Auruo,” Eld says with a frown. He points to his own face. “A face mask? Really?”

“It helps keep my skin clear!” Auruo says defensively, his hands covering his face as if to protect his mask from being snatched away. “And they’re really relaxing!”

“Do you want one?” Gunter asks. Like Auruo, he also has a face mask on. He’s currently peeling a new one and putting it on Petra’s face as they wait for the late-night show to come back from its commercial break.

Eld thinks for a moment. “Alright then. Couldn’t hurt.” He clambers into bed with them, squishing himself in between Petra and Gunter even though the rest of his bandmates complain about how there’s hardly any room for anyone else. He manages to squeeze himself in though and the entire band sits on the bed, snug as four face masked peas in a pod.

“Do you think they’ll talk about the show at all? Maybe squeeze something in about our band?” Auruo wonders. He reaches over to grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl sitting in Petra’s lap. With his mouth full, he continues, “I mean, I know the whole point of the interview is for No Name to promote their tour, but it couldn’t hurt to squeeze our band in, right?”

The others chatter about the possibility of it – how exciting for the chance to be mentioned even in passing on a big late-night talk show by one of their favorite bands! – but Petra merely shrugs. She’s been tense ever since she appeared on Let’s Fall in Love! a reality TV show where celebrities “date” each other. While she had gotten off to a rough start with her partner – none other than Levi Ackerman, the lead singer of No Name, the biggest rock band in history – she eventually warmed up to him. Now it’s only the hate comments directed at her on social media and the scathing tabloid headlines that attack her character that really gets to her. She does her best not to notice them – even going so far as to disable comments on all her social media accounts as well as the band’s – but just knowing there are people out there who want her dead just for fake dating someone else really eats away at her some nights.

“Hey,” Eld says, noticing her downcast expression. He puts a comforting arm around her and squeezes her shoulder. When she looks up at him, he gives her a smile. “Are you okay?”

Not wanting her friends to worry about her more than they have, she gives him a tight-lipped smile. “It’s nothing,” she whispers back, turning back to the television as the late-night show returns.

“Welcome back to the show!” the talk show host says with a wide grin on his face. Roy, the speaker, is a long-time television host whose show entertained a wide number of guests – from political leaders to celebrities of every kind. He’s well-loved for being charming and polite, although younger generations of viewers felt that he could throw in more comedy to engage viewers. Still, he’s one of the most well-respected talk show hosts in the industry. “I have with No Name with me tonight, which, my granddaughter tells me, is the hottest rock band of all time. We’re happy to have you all here tonight! Thank you for coming!”

While the other two members of the band, Hanji and Mike, sit relaxed on the couch, Levi slouches over like a bored child, avoiding eye contact with the screaming studio audience by staring at the floor. It’s something that Petra would have found attractive in her teen years, annoying a month ago, and absolutely endearing now. Just looking at him hunched over is putting a smile on her face, although she can’t exactly explain why she finds his terrible posture so charming.

“Thanks, Roy,” Hanji says. Although many consider Levi as the leader of the band, it is Hanji who typically takes the lead during interviews. They’re charismatic and funny, easily making the audience laugh with a clever quip or two during the few talk show appearances that No Name makes every year. “Thank you for having us. We’re really glad to be here with you all.” They wave cheerfully at the audience, eliciting more screams from the crowd.

“It might surprise you, but even an old man like me has heard about your band,” Roy laughs. He fiddles with the small stack of notecards filled with the prepared questions for the band. Smiling at the band members, he says, “This is your tenth year as a band – you guys began when you were in college together – and you’re currently going on your fifth tour. Does it ever surprise you, the dedication you receive from your fans?”

“It did surprise us a little in the beginning,” Hanji confesses, reaching back to brush down their ponytail with one hand. “But we found that our fans really connected with our music – with our lyrics, our melodies, our stories – and we’re really grateful for that. It allowed us to be more open in our songs as the years went by, and it’s amazing that they’ve been with us the entire time.”

“They certainly have!” Roy grins. “You sold out tickets to every stadium a week after the tour was announced. That’s certainly an impressive feat. I suppose by now you’re touring veterans. Is it a challenge keeping things fresh for your audience with every new tour, every new album you put out?”

“They’re very good,” Gunter observes as he munches on popcorn. “Very likable on screen and in real life. Do you think we’ll ever be able to go on Roy’s late-night show?”

“Maybe if this momentum keeps up,” Eld replies.

Hanji really is an expert when it comes to public relations. Levi might be the face of the band, but Hanji is definitely the brains behind the entire thing. Even though they’re answering the bulk of the questions, they always wait for Mike to speak every now and again, sometimes even allowing an opening for the drummer to speak. They strategically get Levi to answer every now and again – usually only getting a one-word answer from him – but they’re quick to make a joke or steer the conversation in a new direction so that their bandmate doesn’t look rude. If Levi had been the one to head these interviews, he probably would have turned everyone off from the band with his awful personality, Petra thinks affectionately.

On screen, Roy straightens out his cards once more and looks over at Levi. “So, Levi, let's talk about love. I know you’re a man of few words, but I was wondering if you would be willing to speak with us about this reality TV show you're on,” he grins. If he’s bothered by Levi’s scowl, he doesn’t show it at all. Then again, he might be distracted by how Mike and Hanji are childishly poking and prodding their bandmate, sly grins on their faces. “I believe this show is called Let's Fall in Love!, where two celebrities date each other. You happen to be paired with Petra Ral, the lead singer of the Special Ops Squad. My granddaughter is a fan of your band as I’ve mentioned, but she’s also a huge fan of the Special Ops Squad and of Miss Ral in particular. She’s absolutely ecstatic whenever she sees segments that include you and Miss Petra Ral, and she insists that you two have amazing chemistry.”

Levi looks slightly irritated. At first, Petra believes that it’s because of the question that was asked; she knows that he didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of being a part of this reality show and was only participating for more publicity much like her own band, but she was fairly certain that he wasn’t entirely miserable appearing on the show. Surely, his sour expression doesn’t have anything to do with her, right? She’s about to open her mouth and ask her friends’ opinion when she sees Hanji reach over and squeeze Levi’s arm before glaring at the audience, and Petra realizes that his reaction was not to the question, but to the members of the audience that were booing and hissing at the mention of her name.

“The show is…alright,” Levi finally replies. That flash of anger is now gone from his face, replaced by his usual neutral expression. He fidgets in his seat for a bit before straightening up. “It’s an interesting experience to work with Petra. Her band is very talented.”

At these words, her bandmates begin to bounce excitedly on the bed, silently celebrating because they don’t want to miss anything else Levi has to say. Gunter reaches behind Eld to give Petra a pat on the back, raising his eyebrows at her to congratulating her for being mentioned on the show, and she smiles back at him.

“Yes! Her band does put out wonderful songs – I believe their album is currently number two on the charts; it’s right below yours – but I really wanted to ask your opinion of Miss Ral in particular,” Roy says, giving Levi an apologetic smile. “My granddaughter begged me to ask. She really ‘ships’ the two of you, as the young people say.”

Petra thought that Levi would scowl and refuse to answer the question. It doesn’t seem like his style to answer things like this, and it’s not as if they were really dating, but she’s surprised when Levi seems almost…bashful. He fidgets a little more in his seat, his hand reaching up to run through his hair. “I…she’s very…cute,” he finally says. He looks up, looking at Roy with a tortured expression, but the late-night show host only leans over in his seat, wondering what else Levi has to say. “And…she’s…her voice is beautiful.”

Beside him, Hanji snickers.

“Well, my granddaughter is going to be over the moon when she hears that,” Roy says with a laugh. He turns to the camera with a smile. “That was No Name. We need to take another commercial break right now, but stick around to see their performance! They’ll be playing songs that they’ll be doing on tour, so stay tuned!”

When the camera zooms out and the commercials begin, Auruo immediately mutes the television and turns to Petra. “Did you hear that?” he asks excitedly, looking as if he might burst from joy. “Roy said our name on television! Twice!”

“Never mind that!” Eld says, shoving Auruo so that the band’s keyboardist fell back into the mountain of pillows behind them. He turns to Petra, a wicked gleam in his smile. “Did you hear what Levi said about you? He called you cute!”

“And that your voice is beautiful,” Gunter adds.

“It’s nothing, probably,” Petra says. She shrieks when Eld catches her in a headlock and begins to ruffle her hair. When she breaks free from his grip, she sits back against the pillows and holds one up as a shield so that her friends don’t attack her again. “I mean, he was caught off-guard, and it’s not like he can say anything bad about me without looking like a jerk. He probably just said that to promote the show. It’s not just good for our band. His band gets more attention if more people know about it too.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Eld says, sticking out his tongue. He smiles when he flicks Petra on the forehead. When she yelps, he grins before turning back to to the television and commenting on the commercial that's currently airing.

It’s just for show, Petra tells herself, squeezing the pillow tightly against her chest. She’s fairly certain that’s true, although that flush of pink across Levi’s cheeks was unmistakable. Then again, maybe it was from the heat of the studio lights. She buries her face in the pillow. She should probably be happy that Levi had said such kind words about her, but she feels heartbroken somehow. It’s just for show, she tells herself again and again. It’s not real. It’s just for show.

As soon as the show’s over and they’ve thanked the host, Levi immediately makes his way to their dressing room. His bandmates enjoy teasing him about everything, and they’re going to have a field day after this interview. He tries to escape them by walking as quickly as possible, but of course they catch up to them. Damn tall people and their long legs.

“So, Levi,” Hanji says, throwing an arm around his shoulders. The bassist leans on him, grinning mischievously. “You think Petra is cute, huh?”

“Shut it,” he growls.

“And what is that other word that you used to describe her?” Hanji asks. “Good? Great? Amazing?” They knit their eyebrows together, confused. Looking over at Mike, they ask, “No, those aren’t it. What was it again, Mike?”

The drummer grins. He never starts the teasing, but he’s always happy to play along whenever Hanji invites him to join them. “I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘beautiful,’” he replies. His grin grows wider when Levi visibly cringes beside them.

“That was her voice. I said that about her voice,” Levi snaps as if that makes a difference. Ugh. He probably shouldn’t have said anything at all, or at the very least stuck to just mildly positive compliments – good, nice, alright. Cute? Beautiful? He probably looked like an idiot back there. Petra probably watched him and laughed at how stupid he was, if she was even watching at all. She probably has better things to do tonight though, like write music with her bandmates, exploring the city and its various eateries, or going on a real date with someone she actually liked and not a miserable asshole. For some reason, that last bitter thought makes him feel even worse.

“Aw, come on, Levi. Don’t look so gloomy. We’re just joshing with you,” Hanji says, patting him on the back. They lean down, observing his face. Suddenly, their expression sobers as they ask, “Besides, this is all just for show, right?”

Ah, yes. The constant reminder that this entire reality show is just a publicity stunt. None of it – the conversations and the dates – are real. Even celebrities that do enter relationships with each other as a result of this show split up a month or two afterward. It’s stupid of him to think that anything can come of this other than boosted album sales and sold-out stadium tours. Petra probably goes home after taping every day and forgets about him entirely.

“Yeah,” Levi grunts, his feet dragging across the floor with each step he takes. “It’s just for show.”

[the-dirt-king]

Looking for Creepy Pasta RP

Ha ha, I’m a bit embarrassed to admit it but I’ve fallen into the deep end of the creepypasta fandom and am looking to RP with some OCs. I’m good with my partner using OCs or official characters and wouldn’t mind NSFW at all, though it’s not required. I personally will be role playing with OCs, a girl and a boy, and can do gay or straight ships/nsfw.

It’s also my personal head cannon that creepy pastas are somewhere between alive and dead, and so cannot be killed all the way, but can be taken out of commission for a while through typically mortal wounds, at least in most situations. I’m willing to be flexible with this though!

As far as NSFW goes, we can discuss that in private.

My characters are here! Please shoot me a message if you’re interested!

1.

Basics

Name (& pronunciation): Tripp (trip) is all you need to know

Date of Birth (& age): July 9th (18)

Place of Birth: some small American town

Gender: Female

Species/Racial Origin: Human, white

Social Class/Community Status: Poor

Language: English

Family/Friends/Pets/Etc: Just the proxies she was raised with, none of which she’s fond of.

Physical Description

Height: 5’7

Weight: Underweight

Hair: Light brown, with a real hack job ending just at her chin, but several strands that are longer or shorter.

Eyes: Dull hazel and tired

Limb Dexterity: Clumsy

Detailed Physical Description: Trip is tall and lanky, with lean muscle but evident malnutrition. Her hair is messy, looking like somebody cut it with a pocket knife, and she’s pretty riddled with scars. Her most noticeable feature is a limp and a foot that’s not quite turned right from a mediocre attempt to fix a broken ankle, hence the nickname. Her eyes are wide and paranoid with noticeable bags beneath them.

Typical Clothing/Equipment: Old second hand clothes, but mostly hunting plaids and such, thicker material. She also wears a mask, though, it’s made of paper mache and sealant, and looks pretty torn up, but it still has a relative shape of a bird head to it.

Personality/Attributes

Personality/Attitude: Depressed, tired

Skills/Talents: Tripp’s talented at murdering folks with whatever’s around, and pretty good at digging. Her favorite tool is a shovel, because she can hit people with it without letting them in stabbing range.

Favourites/Likes: Warm food, warm drinks, warm house, being away from work and the other proxies, soccer, critters, normal people

Most Hated/Dislikes: the other pastas, Especially the proxies above her, getting caught, people poking at her foot.

Goals/Ambitions: Escaping the Slenderman and living a normal life

Strengths: Creative, intelligent, desperate, fearless

Weaknesses: Slow as f u c k, easily over powered by folks in the business, clumsy on her feet, desperate

Fears: Tripp is terrified of Slenderman after the last time she tried to escape.

Hobbies/Interests: Wood carving, star gazing, rocks, neat bugs

Regular Routine: Wake up, eat, complete the day’s mission, go home, fail to sleep, pass out

Philosophy of Life: You give your life meaning, or somebody does it for you

Attitude Toward Death: she can’t wait, it’s got to happen sometime... right?

Religion/Beliefs: If there was a god, she wouldn’t be in this situation

Fetishes/Strange Behaviors: Always looking over her shoulder, starts coughing up black bile and leeches when she goes against the Slenderman

History: Tripp was kidnapped in the third grade or so as an offering to Slenderman, but was chosen as one of the many children to be raised as a proxy due to her physical skills as a soccer player. This was all as fine and dandy as it could be until she broke her ankle chasing who was supposed to be the next victim of the Slenderman in the seventh grade, and, considering she was mostly being raised by other children, it never healed right (turns out, broken bones need a splint and not just bandages. Who knew?) This led her to lose pretty much all of her agility, and led to the affectionate nickname of “Tripp”. Knowing that she was no longer valuable enough to keep, she tried to escape as a teenager only to be tracked down by the proxies she considered friends, who brought her back. She doesn’t really remember what happened next, but she hasn’t felt quite right since.

Sexual Preference/Experience/Values: She doesn’t know yet, having had no sexual experience, and only really hearing the basics

Education/Special Training: She was raised to kill, but not to go to school, so she isn’t great at maths and reading, much less grammar

Place/Type of Residence: The slender manor

Occupation: Proxy

Place of Work: Wherever the Slenderman wants her to go

2.

Basics

Name (& pronunciation): James Jackson

Date of Birth (& age): October 4th, 18

Place of Birth: Somewhere in New York State

Gender: Male

Species/Racial Origin: Human, native/white mixed

Social Class/Community Status: Upper Middle class

Language: English

Family/Friends/Pets/Etc: Deceased

Physical Description

Height: Average

Weight: Average

Hair: Black

Eyes: Green

Limb Dexterity: Good

Detailed Physical Description: James is a fairy good looking guy, tan skin, white smile, pretty green eyes, the whole deal. He’s pretty averagely sized, but has some lean muscle to him.

Typical Clothing/Equipment: Nicer clothes, and a large hammer that he uses to smash heads. He wears a fancy bunny mask and calls himself the Easter Killer. The news papers call him the Red Rabbit instead. James is unhappy about this:

Personality/Attributes

Personality/Attitude: Smug, cocky, and full of himself

Skills/Talents: James is fairly decent at murder, but by no means the best. He’s also good at school and is pretty smart

Favourites/Likes: Being an asshole, smashing shit, buying things, sports

Most Hated/Dislikes: The cops, freaky monsters, folks being better at things than him

Goals/Ambitions: Being remembered as a famous serial killer

Strengths: Pretty athletic and fast

Weaknesses: He’s too cocky and picks battles he can’t win

Fears: Getting forgotten, being caught, the freaky monsters that stalk him in the night

Hobbies/Interests: Murder, dark things, knifes, serial killers, revenge

Regular Routine: Pretty average, he fucks around during the day and then kills at night

Philosophy of Life: The purpose of living is to be remembered

Attitude Toward Death:  Won’t happen to him

Religion/Beliefs: Christian, just doesn’t respect god

Fetishes/Strange Behaviors: It’s pretty weird to wear a rabbit mask while smashing people, but aight

Brief history: He didn’t take the car crash that killed his parents all too well, and started killing folks he believed deserved to die more than his parents. Once the news got involved, he started to get high off the attention. It’s too bad that once his killing spree got really rolling, he was chosen as a target for the Slenderman, and he shot himself in efforts to kill himself before the monster did. Clearly, it didn’t work, as he’s not quite dead now. He doesn’t like removing his mask though

Sexual Preference/Experience/Values: Bisexual, but doesn’t know it yet

Education/Special Training: Finished most high school, but no real murder training

Place/Type of Residence: On the run

Occupation: None

Place of Work: None

Work-related Skills: None

Past Occupations: Worked at his aunt’s restaurant for a tick.