#within the span of about an hour maybe less and with like. NOT that much information gained in between statements

[vivitalks]

i'm sure this post has been made before but the "the list of people i trust and things i believe is down to no one and nothing" to "i trust angus mcdonald entirely" journey that taako takes in the span of roughly one in-fiction hour during lunar interlude reunion tour is so important to me. adventuring partners and friends who have saved his bacon more times than he can count? nah fuck em. organization that has protected him and given him a purpose and fresh start? new stone of farspeech who dis. this nerdy ass boy detective? "angus i trust you implicitly and here's the 100% exact truth as we understand it"

[nouearth]

“SOME ENCHANTED EVENINGS”

steve rogers x male reader.

𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅 & 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓— headcanon [ 3.4k ] 〳 part two

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒—male reader〳domestic!au 〳mid-century!era 〳'roommates' 〳established relationship 〳 secret husband!steve 〳sexual content: top!steve, bottom!reader, love-making, rimming, breeding, praising, silencing.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄— y'all, i keep getting distracted with these scenarios, i'm so sorry! everybody say thank you @atomicpaperbrat for making me dream about this headcanon!

𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who reunited with you after demobilization, under less than ideal circumstances.

‣ Steve wanted to surprise you a few hours early.

‣ It was the hopeless romantic in him talking—dreaming—imagining you practically jumping into his arms after he unexpectedly arrived a few hours earlier than he had originally told you.

‣ If you were daring, you'd let your tears fall uncontrollably, sink down onto your knees like the tears had weight to them, and a spotlight would zero in on your complete elation.

‣ A round of applause the audience would have given you if you were an actor in one of those plays you'd taken him to before.

‣ That wouldn't be enough, Steve reconsidered.

‣ A kiss would do it. It would show you—how truly magnificent you were. Waiting for him for so long, writing back to him without delay, sending in snacks from the recently opened grocery store down the block—you constantly raved about their state-of-art coolers that made the air feel all-so perfectly breezy.

‣ "You won't believe it, Steve. Ma and I felt like the cucumbers themselves. We're going there as soon as you come home!"

‣ A kiss would also simply assure you that he was here now, and you wouldn't have to worry about him anymore. It would fend off any doubts about him that you'd have festering in the meantime he was away from home.

‣ If they ever returned, Steve was more than willing to find another way to completely dispel them.

‣ After all, he was a soldier—a man of honor.

‣ Instead, the door was left opened when Steve arrived at their apartment unit like you'd been expecting him.

‣ No room for surprises, huh?

‣ Even if it was a foil on his plan, that didn't mean that Steve was any less of excited. Seeing your backside made all sorts of palpitation rattle within him.

‣ He couldn't possibly imagine what it would feel like when he would come face-to-face with you.

‣ Death, most likely? A coma being the best case scenario.

‣ "Ma, you're not helping. You always said I should be taking care of myself more—no, don't come. Why?! Because you'd only try to take over! Really? Watch my tone? Coming from the woman who almost got arrested when—will you stay put? Steve and I will visit tomorrow. He'll probably be tired when I pick him up. If dinner turns out bad, then I'll get something at the deli and we can have a proper one at your pad. Hey, you do know that I'm your son... right?!"

‣ Steve was always charmed by the banter between the man that he loved and the woman that raised him to be the exact replica of her.

‣ Hearing your voice over your mother's and her voice over yours—she was clearly winning over the telephone—it was beginning to register just exactly how much he missed you.

‣ Missed this.

‣ From the living room, he'd been watching your backside for minutes now yet so much has happened within the time span. You were a busy bee for him.

‣ All four burners were on. One stove was warming up a cast iron pan, another had potatoes boiling in water, and the other two—

‣ Steve never got to peek what was in those two pots because his thoughts were punctuated with a throttling scream.

‣ Maybe there hadn't been a foil in his surprise after all.

‣ "Steve?! What in the world?! What?! I was supposed to—what?! Why are you?! Here?!" ‣ "That's certainly one way to greet a loved one."

‣ "No, no. I'm... just—you're here, Steve. Steve—"

‣ As frequent as Steve pictured the perfect reunion, nothing could ever come close to the feeling—the actual feeling—of your arms wrapping around his broad body, pulling him chest to chest.

‣ It'd been so long since he held someone like this. Someone like you. Someone he cherished.

‣ Steve's hands roamed over your back muscles, pleasantly foreign in his palms—he was instantly reminded when you wrote to him that you had been going on more runs to make up for his absence.

‣ No matter how much you complained about Steve's keen desire for you to join him on his runs before the crack of dawn, you still did it and roused sleep off one step at a time.

‣ That was what husbands did.

‣ It was a strange feeling, recognizing what was familiar—like your tendency to massage his nape whenever you went in for a hug or something as simple as your smile—and then having his reconciliation cut short when Steve noticed your hair styled in a different way that made you look sharper.

‣ Maybe it was a one-time, a new look for this special occasion, but it fit you well. Everything did.

‣ So beautiful, so pretty, so handsome. Steve brushed one hand over your temple and held you there, kissing you once on the lips after.

‣ No words could describe you perfectly. Steve could look through a bunch of thesauruses and glossaries all day, but it would further support his theory that your beauty was simply undefinable.

‣ If it was up to him, he'd create an entirely new set of glossaries that was curated based on your likeness.

‣ For now, he settled on sublime. Your beauty was sublime.

‣ Something outer-worldly that took every muscle and fiber holding his body and turned it into vapor to feed your beauty.

‣ You kissed him back, and he was solid again, returning back to reality.

‣ There would be no killing, only nurturing. You weren't like other gods—you were kind and generous, especially with Steve.

‣ Steve felt your heart race against his own, laughing into your lips at how dangerously oblivious you could be to your surroundings.

‣ "You truly didn't notice me? I was going to surprise you, but I thought you beat me to it."

‣ He inhaled the appetizing aroma of onion, garlic, and tomatoes wafting from your apron, and in midst, detected his favorite cologne on you. The base notes always smelled better on your skin.

‣ "Are you kidding? All I can see in my vision are onions, Steve. Tears! Cutting fifteen onions is a death sentence in itself..! Why did you have to like my mother's French Onion soup so much?"

‣ He sighed at how he missed those lips of yours, silently suffering to control himself from stilling the soft and supple moving pair. It was all overwhelming with so many wants and needs. What would be prioritized first?

‣ Your ramblings were ticklish on his mouth, and that reignited an irresistible impulse to kiss you, to properly kiss you.

‣ "The department of fresh vegetables would like for me to apologize on their behalf—preferably with my mouth. Would that appease you then, Mr. (M/N) Rogers?"

‣ He loved how your name sounded with his last name.

‣ "Appeasing means that I'm demanding for some type of compensation, Mr. Steve Rogers. Does it look like I'm demanding?"

‣ "No, but your lips seem like they're still recovering from the aftershocks from those terribly, malicious onions. Might I say... they look lonely, too?"

‣ "Hm... I guess—I wouldn't be opposed to being relieved of my multitude of troubles..."

‣ Holding your cheeks in between warm, calloused palms, Steve captured the last remnant of your breath and let the yearning—for your lips, for your presence—to seal and hold you shut, against him and over him, all within his strong arms.

‣ It all felt natural. His body responded to yours like he had never left. Memories came flooding back in guidance where to hold you, cherish you with every touch he could remember.

‣ Your lower back. You liked being held there, and so Steve does. You liked it when he fluttered his lashes against your nose too—it sent you into a fit of laughter no matter what mood you were in—and so he does after breaking the kiss.

‣ "Well, I thank you for your service."

‣ Laughing when you laughed, smiling when you smiled.

‣ You arched forward, impossibly closer to Steve's body—satisfied, triumphant as your handsome solider returned back in one piece, safe and sound.

‣ One hand of yours curiously surveyed his body—much more muscular than you had last remembered on the day of his drafting.

‣ "Feels good to be home?"

‣ "It feels... incredible."

𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐂𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐍𝐒.

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who relished in all things quiet and loud on condition that you would be by his side at all times.

‣ More often than not, you and Steve were too exhausted from work to actually plan something for the weekend.

‣ However, if there was one thing that Steve cannot abide, it was doing stuff without you.

‣ "Hold that thought, fellas. I'll need to check with my hu—roommate—friend. He loves getting a drink or two, so..."

‣ It wasn't like you two were inseparable, but those years without you had been agonizing and Steve wanted to make the most of every moment.

‣ Regardless of whether he was having a blast catching up with Bucky and his friends, you were always on his mind.

‣ Drinking at the bar? Steve could hear you remind him to not give into peer pressure and drink however much he pleased.

‣ Though—like it was much difficult to stop in the first place, he was never fond of the taste of gin and Bucky knew that firsthand—buying him a round of cherry soda instead.

‣ You always made sure to thank Bucky by treating him to a couple of drinks yourself.

‣ Grabbing lunch with some co-workers? Steve made sure to buy an extra sandwich or two to take home for dinner. If you liked it, he'd mention the rest of the menu, and suggest what you'd ought to try next.

‣ "Darling, how about we have lunch there tomorrow? You'd be a real goner for the fries."

‣ "That's an incredibly profound proposition you're making there, Steve-o. Extra crispy and salty, straight from the fryer just like how I like 'em?"

‣ "All of that... and brace yourself—your favorite: cold ketchup on the side."

‣ "Steve-o... forget lunch. We're going now!"

‣ Wherever his mind wandered, Steve would always find his way back to you.

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers whose favorite pastime was filling the silence between you two with a vinyl record.

‣ Steve felt safest in his apartment.

‣ So, it was irrefutable to say that his ideal date was simply being at home with you.

‣ Calmly dancing to his favorite record by Jo Stafford, 'The Things We Did Last Summer'.

‣ The early morning hike / The rented tandem bike / The lunches that we used to pack / We never could explain / That sudden summer rain / The look we got when we got back

‣ There was no fear in holding your hands, no trepidation in wrapping his strong arms around your body or kissing you on the neck and lips, all while you held yourself against him and swayed.

‣ The leaves began to fade / Like promises we made / How could a love that seemed so right go wrong?

‣ "I never realized how melancholic the song is, Steve-o."

‣ "It's bittersweet, isn't it? Reflecting upon a love you thought was forever..."

‣ "Is that how you'll think about us for the foreseeable future? Something that was?"

‣ "Well, I can't promise you forever, because that's not nearly long enough. But I can promise that I want to walk with you to our eternal forever. Would you be willing to join me in my search?"

‣ "I'm willing—more than happy to join you, Steve."

‣ "Every step of the way? Even if you can't walk anymore?"

‣ "I'll crawl. If I can't crawl, you're strong enough to carry me the rest of the way. I trust you won't abandon me in purgatory."

‣ "I won't. I would never."

‣ You would follow him to any horizon, and Steve would do the same for you, regardless of what hindrances might lie ahead.

‣ In the end, it felt like home with one another.

‣ And home was the only place where you two could be yourselves.

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘.

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who reveled in the deprivation of your peace of mind.

‣ Steve was always a gentleman.

‣ If you had anyone to boast to, that would be an asset of him you would plaster all over billboard signs if you could (or had the budget to, regardless).

‣ So, it was quite expected of Steve to take his time with you, preparing you for one of those nights.

‣ "Steve—honey, come on..."

‣ "I don't want to hurt you, daring. Be patient."

‣ Part of the reason why he took so long was because of how you acted.

‣ Under normal circumstances, you were already impatient as is—so, could you blame him for luxuriating in the sight of your hole desperately clenching for more of him? Whining into the bed as you slumped your chest forward, and taunted him with a wiggle of your ass?

‣ "Look at you. You know how beautiful you look right now? Opening yourself up for me? Being all keen for me?"

‣ Three fingers was what Steve used to stretch you open as you were knelt on the bed on all fours.

‣ One hand stroking your hard wet cock was what made you respond in slow rhythmic cadence.

‣ "I wouldn't know... how about you show me how much you enjoy my ass? Preferably with your impressive cock filling me up...

‣ "Language."

‣ Your body was beautiful—always had been—but exceptionally so as you writhed because of his fingers working inside of you.

‣ Swelled because of his hand fisting your cock.

‣ Sank because of his mouth laving your bloomed opening as a token of appreciation—for gracing Steve with your vulnerabilities.

‣ "You taste so good. I could eat your for breakfast. For Lunch. For dinner. I'd reckon I could make a better meal out of you, darling. I'd have my fill and be satisfied, all because of this sweet confection that's your body, (M/N)."

‣ "Steve—oh, right there—just like that... keep talking to me like that."

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who sinned with another of his kind, who forced another being to sin with him and exulted him in sin.

‣ Steve was a gentleman, but that didn't mean the man never had any inclination to ravage you.

‣ Only with you—that he would indulge himself fervently like this.

‣ He liked sticking close to your body.

‣ All positions did it for him, but he heavily favored spooning you, pressing his muscular chest to your writhing backside, and withholding you from escaping him—hands by your hips, piling your cavity with a tremendous fill.

‣ No other position could provide Steve the gratification of making love to you like this.

‣ Hearing your disheveled pants, grunts, and moans altogether in his ear.

‣ Feeling you ardently grind back against him as if he wasn't already balls-deep, and losing your sense of rhythm in the process.

‣ Sucking on a patch on your neck and tasting the salt of your skin, of the sweat that Steve and you had collectively harvested together like they were an open orchard.

‣ It all nurtured his pride, feeding into his strength and into the praises you'd graciously honor him as the pleasure of his cock pounding inside of you bellowed.

‣ "Your cock feels so good inside of me, Steve—you feel so good inside of me. Reconstructing my insides with your thick shaft, renewing my body with your mouth, your hands—r-reclaiming my body with your love. God, I'm in love with you. You fuck me so incredibly well."

‣ Your ramblings again, something he'd gotten used to, something he was absolutely smitten with—but this was on another level.

‣ Regarding profanity, Steve made an exception for these occasions.

‣ Fiery, passionate, delirious. Your mind and body was on fire, and Steve was the furnace, pummeling harder, faster—igniting your combustion.

‣ "I'm in love with you."

‣ Steve kissed you with all his might, drowned you in his love, all sorts of emotions beguiling your body to work into overdrive, your mouth to empty a vault of pure contentment.

‣ "Shh, shh. Walls are thin..."

‣ It happened more often than Steve could count—where your uncontrollable moans resounded through the apartment.

‣ You woke the elderly woman next door once and unsurprisingly quelled the woman's worries with your kindness, as lazy as your attempt at lying was, "Must've been the... the wind! Y-you know it is these days... It's been storming quite frequently. Want me to come over and check for any leaks, ma'am? It wouldn't be a bother at all."

‣ As much as he loved hearing you—Steve couldn't take the embarrassment, nor the increasing suspicion on who exactly were the tenants in Room 304.

‣ The better solution would've been to ease his thrusts, slow the pace his hips while making sure you felt every inch—every vein—of his cock throbbing inside of your body.

‣ But this was equally as enthralling—his hand champed shut over your mouth, squeezing at the lower half of your face in a ferocious trial to muffle your pleading moans.

‣ Harder—pounding and filling you amply while his hand restricted you the outlet of your emotions.

‣ "Mfggh, S-Steve!"

‣ "Shh... quiet, You'll wake up the neighbors like you did last time, remember?

‣ "M-mm-mmf—"

‣ Steve got off to this, it was his indulgence—merciless as he was unrelenting in delivering you the utmost pleasure, in submerging himself deep inside of you until you simply came hands-free from the nth time Steve's cock hit that sweet spot of yours.

‣ Your warnings were inaudible, but that didn't mean you didn't at least try. You licked his palm, bit into the thick part of his hand, and he only held you tighter—and that really set you off.

‣ You choked on your own moans, the credence vibrating in Steve's wet palm, and your cock suddenly spurted thick shots of cum.

‣ Steve's spading cock drew every rope out of you, into the air, and onto your stomach and chest.

‣ You turned the mess of your body into a beautiful disaster, and Steve couldn't fathom how he could restrain himself any longer.

‣ "Oh, christ—(M/N)..."

‣ You breathed a deep relief when Steve released your mouth in favor of painting your body with your own cum.

‣ His hand smeared the pool of semen over your stomach, and then upwards to your chest, rubbing the evidence of the love you had for him into your body.

‣ Into his mouth when Steve sucked his fingers to taste—to savor.

‣ And finally into yours, where you eagerly cleansed him off, finger by finger.

‣ Steve watched close, panting and marveling over how pretty your lips looked sucking his fingers, and that was enough for him to erupt inside of your body.

‣ Warmth, you felt his cum flooding inside of you like lava as Steve buried his deep and guttural moans into your neck.

‣ "Feel so full, Steve..."

‣ "Don't let it leak. Squeeze around me..."

‣ You felt the tremors of his body—of his voice—when he resumed his thrusts, albeit slower and much more languid this time around, and milked himself inside of your painted, clenched walls.

‣ "O-oh, I'm so deep inside of you, Darling. Hold me. Hold my loving cock and never let go."

‣ Obscene sounds of Steve's cock creaming you from the inside and out made your sensitive cock jolt, even as you felt him softening within you.

‣ Slowly but surely, Steve's body finally registered with his ultimate high, and exhaustion hit him like a train alongside the melt of your muscles against his.

‣ You exulted in Steve's orgasm, while Steve did the same with yours.

‣ His hands cradled your sensitive cock, tenderly massaging while the other smoothed over your chest.

‣ You turned to watch him in between recovering breaths, delightfully triumphant despite the risk of being with someone like Steve—a complete sin.

‣ Breathing as two, bonding as one.

‣ "I won't let go."

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[tokkiwrites]

ㅤ𔓕ㅤㅤꪆৎㅤ𓈒ㅤ THREE'S A CROWD ＼ ㅤ♰ ㅤ⊹ㅤ ︵

Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x f!reader x Francisco 'Catfish' Morales

summary: your dad befriended some nice customers from his bar. fast-forward a year, they're all you can think about.

tags: pwp honestly, threesome mfm (YEEPPEEE) dbf! Santiago & Frankie, afab!reader w she/her pronouns, age gap, pet names (lots!!), Santiago has a thing with you being 'pure', virginity loss, reader is literally horny 24/7, doms! santi and frankie, sub! reader, rougher santi and softer frankie ig, dirty talk, slapping, spit (for like a sentence), choking, hair pulling, double penetration (in the same hole), head m receiving, voyeurism, unprotected p in v (wrap your dingaling!!), masturbating in the mirror for like a bit, lmk if i missed anything!!

ㅤ↪ㅤtokki's ۫ 𐑺 𝚜𝚞ׂ𝚐𝚊𝚛 ࣭ note ˑ ⌕ ࣭ ּ ➭ ive been on an oscar isaac rush for the past few weeks, and i had to. first time writing ab a threesome...sooo. im trying to write in different ways, so if it all seems jittery, apologies!!! this has like 3.6k words. its not proofread!! I TRIED MY BEST :( enjoy !!

'i need it.' was becoming like a mantra for you now. every day, needy for touches and attention, those dirty reflections that never left your mind.

of course, you've done things with boys. well, one boy, your boyfriend, and those things being your average makeout sessions and hand jobs, nothing more. you knew what sex was, of course, but the urge to experience the rougher side of it was overflowing by the day. and you know these wishes started appearing and consuming as soon as your dad befriended two customers from the bar you help him run, Santiago and Frankie. One year ago, you saw them only three times, maybe four in the span of 3 months, but their visits were more and more frequent and well, that's how their friendship started.

At first you were skeptical, unsure of their means, but you missed seeing your dad so happy and when you got to know them you realized they were good. What mattered was your dad being less lonely.

all though, that kind of changed eight months ago when, in the dead of july, you witnessed them helping your dad building a small summerhouse in your backyard. There's nothing wrong with that. Just seeing them both sweaty, with muscles bulging and hands dirty, woke something inside of you. and the fact that you broke up with your first boyfriend ever, that you were together with since 17, didn’t quite help.

So yeah, you were happy for your dad, but hated that you had to see them almost everyday and in turn sit hours on end with soaked panties on and, like a broken record, playing fantasies in your mind of these older men doing as they please with you. and you don't know why these thoughts plagued your mind just now, at the age of 21, but it was getting in the way of every aspect of your life, these wild things making you want to live inside your fantasy world and never wake up.

Today was no different: another late night at the bar. your dad went home early to catch some sleep since tomorrow he'll have to leave for three days to help his brother, your uncle, move into his new home. That's fine. What's getting you is him assigning his friends to 'keep an eye on you' like you're some sort of child. but, somehow, you can get over that. What you can't get over is how are you going to survive three whole days being just in their presence? when your dad's here, it's different. You don't need to spend that much time in their proximity, but this? you'll have to lock yourself in your room to keep those thoughts at bay.

you we're getting lost within your mind again.

what if you were to tell them about these thoughts? not that they're about them, just... you know, boy advice?

that's insane. and stupid.

would they accept should you propose you three entangled in some...activities? they'd for sure disagree- you were their friend's daughter, and whilst they didn't know you for that long it for sure didn't sound right.

what if they agree, though? one night. one night for all of your dreams to become reality..but you couldn't live after that knowing what you'd be missing forever. they'd leave after. what if you'd beg for them to stay, to have them do things even more carnal to you? if you begged maybe and gave your freedom to them.

These kinds of thoughts cloud your mind every day, and now, they are making you forget about the real world, where you were supposed to serve Santiago a glass of whiskey. as the sound of a low chuckle pulls you out of your trance, you feel liquid pooling around your palm that was settled on the bar. and when it finally awakes you, your eyes meet him again. your heart jolts, and it gets you lightheaded again.

"Oh, I'm- god, I'm so sorry Mr.Garcia...I don't know what happenedㅡ" You panic, wiping hurriedly the bar, prompting yet another laugh from the man. " 's fine, doll, don't worry. all though... your dad might turn into the reincarnation of Lucifer if he sees how much whiskey you wasted." he leans over for some tissues, wanting to help you.

"No, it's fine, I'll do it-" you smile shyly, placing your hand on top of his to stop him from moving, this in turn made him tilt his head up only a little, which awarded him with a quick glance at your barely exposed cleavage.

'untouched.' he thought to himself.

"I won't say anything if you don't." your ears pick up his voice, and for a moment, you forgot about what he was talking about. "Oh, yeah, I'm not gonna...say anything." Your lips curl into a shy smile. " Hurry and clean this up. I'm gonna take you home since you gotta close anyway."

oh, lord.

"no, that's fine. I can walk-"

"said I'll take you home." you breathe out a quiet 'oh, my god' because you're sure you've just had an orgasm from his voice only.

"See, I know you have manners ‘cause your dad taught you to listen to your elders, seems I just gotta get a little stern with you, huh?" you shake your head, not sure what to make of what he just said, but you finish up cleaning as the door opens to reveal Frankie. "why're you still here, man?" he inquired as he took off his baseball cap to arrange his perfectly curly hair better.

you can't possibly be serious.

"on duty." he laughs and points towards you. "Ah."

"You know... my dad hasn't left yet, so you're not 'on duty' as far as I know. Also, he said to keep an eye on me. Not be my bodyguards!" You try to scold them in a way. At the end of the day, you are an adult, right? "Easy miss." Frankie puts his hands up."I just arrived.”

"Yeah, well I am leaving. Alone! So please-" you move your hands as a signal for them to leave. "Excuse us for ever bothering you, miss. May we at least stay here until you close?” Santiago sarcastically banters. "I guess.." You shrug, finishing washing your hands and putting the glasses away.

you hate how much you like them. and how much you want them to ravage you. if possible, you'd let them both take you right there on the bar counter, whilst potential passers-by saw you get fucked into oblivion.

9AM, your dad left, and you can't seem to fall back asleep. the bar will be closed for these these days, so you have nothing to do except steep into your own boredom. You decide to make yourself a cup of coffee and grab a book from the shelf. With your coffee in hand, you head out to the backyard, where you settle into a comfortable chair. As you sip your coffee and immerse yourself in the pages of the book, you find solace in the gentle breeze and the sounds of nature around you, embracing the quiet moments of the morning.

this works for a while, but there's an inexplicable itch you want to scratch. with a loud whine that scares some little birds away, you head back inside to find other things to do. "Please, i can't keep on thinking about them. What is wrong with me?" You scream whisper at yourself whilst looking in the mirror places in your hallway, "like..genuinely!"

as you stare a bit more into the mirror, your hands make their way up your torso and to your breasts, nipping at your lower lip as you can't seem to ignore the warmth from between your thighs. you start imagining both of them having their way with you, forcing you to watch yourself in the mirror as they pumped your holes full of their come. touching yourself more, light fingers make their way under the shorts you were wearing, finally catching a feel of how wet you are. you moan, knees buckling as you picture both men marking you as theirs in all ways. "p-please.. Santi, Frankieㅡ"

"my, what do we have here, huh?" your eyes open wide, and still in your pants and palm still over your sensitive nipple, as two other reflections in the mirror stare back at you. "Mr.Garcia, Mr.Moralesㅡ"

"Cut the shit, doll. I think we're way past that." he motions loosely towards the indecent position you were in. "You're lucky it was us and not your dad. '' Frankie states. "I'm so sorry, I don't even..I can'tㅡ" you stutter and turn around slowly to face them, arms now falling to your sides.

"You want us?" Frankie asks you in the most serious tone you've heard him. "I- what? Huh?" you're left speechless by this sudden interrogation.

"Do you want us to fuck you, doll?" Santiago reiterated. But you stayed quiet, head low, too embarrassed to admit your true intentions. was it wrong? certainly. but was it the only thing you've dreamed about since you first saw them? Of course.

"Why don't you answer? You act like a little slut and yetㅡ" He steps closer and Frankie soon follows. "You're too shy all of a sudden? We were the ones who walked in on you, you know? touching yourself in front of the mirror like a dirty whore, huh? what would your dad say, baby?" he taunts you whilst Frankie reaches his strong grip and tilts your head up to look them in the eyes. "You didn't answer the question, sweet girl."

it takes a few seconds, but you muster up a hushed 'yes', causing them to smirk. "Show us, baby. C'mon, tell us how bad you want it." Dizzy and drunk on arousal, you succumbed to their touch, kneeling at their feet and looking up, pleading with tearful eyes in a silent entreaty to do as they please with you. but they don't budge. They wait patiently for you to show them how desperate you can get. it all overflows you, the cold floor in contact with your knees, their scent, your rugged breaths. "Please, I want- need it. I need you...so bad. need you toㅡ use me" you rub your thighs together. "Please..?"

"for how long, baby, hm? since we first met? 'cause i know I've wanted to bend you over from the first moment I laid my eyes on the pretty thing you are." Frankie admits. " knew you had nothing else in this pretty head of yours, sweetheart. " Santiago laughs as he shoves your head lightly with his finger, causing you to whimper. "just wanna be fucked stupid, right? be our stupid, little fuck doll? that what you want?" and you nod in response, it takes you all of your power to not cry from how bad you want to feel them right now. "Ever done something like this?" and you shake your head no. "Shit. You poor little thing." he was right about you. He can feel his dick twitching at the thought of having you all splayed out, so innocent and untouched.

"We'll take care of you. But...we can't promise to be too gentle. All though I don't think “gentle” is what you want." Your eyes glimmer, and your head spins. Did you hear that right? Is this really happening, or are you having the most beautiful dream, and when you wake up, you'll be sorrowful for days?

They instruct you to get undressed, clothes falling to the floor as they force you to crawl onto the couch all whilst they watch, fully clothed. getting closer to you, their calloused hands explore each part of your warm body as trails of kisses leave you hanging onto them. "gonna ruin you, baby, you know that, yeah?" of course you know. you've been yearning for this moment for almost a year.

they proceed to get naked, Santiago positioning himself in front of you and Frankie a little to your side. You couldn't believe it. This was so much more than you imagined; they were both long and girthy, with Frankie being a little more veiny than Santiagoㅡ a sight that made you drool. this will forever be imprinted into your brain.

"You look like a dumb puppy staring like that." Frankie snorts. "Haven't seen a cock before?" he's getting cockier with his remarks, as he urges you to respond. "Yes, but.. n-ot soㅡ big.." your cheeks grow red as you see Santiago's dick jump from your words. "Stroking my ego like that baby... how 'bout you stroke my cock instead, hm? can you do that for me?" anything. you were willing to do it all for them, make them so proud, they'd never want to leave.

your shaky hands wrap, barely, around both their lengths, as you stare up at them whilst standing straight so your boobs are on full display for them to eat up with their hungry eyes. you do it slow, unsure if you're doing it good, licking some of the precum from their slits from time to time, swirling your tongue around eachㅡ putting on a show. "You've done your homework, huh? Do it a little too well for a virgin."

"c'mon, hands and knees, I wanna fuck this pretty mouth of yours." Santiago pushes you back as Frankie strokes himself. "Pretty thing" he says as two digits trail down your back and help you position yourself better onto the couch. Frankie finally places himself behind you, teasingly playing with your folds, letting out a soft 'fuck' whilst feeling how wet you were. "Stretched yourself out for use before we came, right, sweet girl? You want me to help you out a little moreㅡ?"

"Noㅡ! Please.." you eagerly interrupt. "You cockslut. Haven't had an eager little thing like you since I was in college." He laughs as he positions his length in line with your hot entrance, leaving kisses down your back he slips inside slowly, and you choke out a cry, eyes brimming with tears as a sting pangs through your whole body. "sh, sh..I know, baby. I know." Whispering gently, Santiago pulls himself down and cups your face, leaning in to kiss you. As your lips finally met, time stood still, the world faded away, and all that remained was the electrifying sensation of something within you igniting. It was a moment painted with the hues of passion and longing, a symphony of emotions echoing through your soul.

He breaks the kiss and smiles down at you as the pain slowly fades away and is replaced by pure pleasure. pulling away, he levels himself and taps on your chin for you to open your mouth. Santiago hisses, tugging harder at your hair as a response to your warm tongue enveloping the tip of his dick. "shit, baby, open up for meㅡ thaat's it. good girl."

shuddering in anticipation, you part your lips further, allowing him to push deeper inside. you were already a mess- drool dripping down your chin as he fucked your mouth like there was no tomorrow, tears that stained your cheeks as he pushed your head lower; muffled moans, how you were gagging around his length, pure music for both of them to listen to.

"look so pretty, baby, mouth stuffed with cock.." you stare up at him through wet lashes as he lands a slap to your right cheek.

At your other end, Frankie was cautiously moving back and forth, not wanting to succumb to the tightness of your wet cunt that almost sent him over the edge just as he put the tip in. "so fuckin' tight, baby. fuuck-" he groans as he hits a few hard strokes, your back arching against him and fingers digging into Santiago's hips. "you hear that?" Frankie asks, moving himself deep into your hot core, letting you catch the lewd and wet noises your cunt made wrapped around him. "she's so wet for us, isn't she? poor pussy.." you pathetically whine, as Santiago pulls your head back by your hair, making you stare straight into his darkened eyes. "don't go shy on us now, doll." he laughs, delivering another sharp slap to your already heated cheek. "you wanted to be a little slut and we're gonna treat you like one, soㅡ" he tuts, thrusting into your throat before he continues, "so, really, you should thank us." Santiago pulls away, leaving your needy mouth wide open, as if asking for his shaft in a desperate plea. Frankie firmly places his rough palms onto your ass before taking his length out and you cry at the sudden lack of them inside of you. "Go ahead," he adds. "Thank us, baby, c'mon."

you lick your lips, feeling yourself dripping down onto the mattress under you, too cock drunk and embarrassed to say anything. Santiago sighs, giving your cheek a few light slaps as his other palm slides down to wrap around your throat. you gasp, the feeling so new yet it felt like something you'd been missing for so long. "i didn't take you as the ungrateful type, little angel." he coos, as Frankie reaches under to cup your breasts into his hands. "are you an ungrateful little whore?" taunting you. " 'm n-ot.." you gasp, the lack of blood flow to your brain keeping you on the edge. "you're sure acting like one." the one at the forefront proceeds, running the tip of his leaking length along your puffy lips. "and here we were..-" he stops to slap it onto your left cheek "ready to reward you, hm?" they look at each other and chuckle, as if they weren't mocking you and the pitiful mess you were. "please, I'm-" you swallow. "I'm sorry, please. Thank you so muchㅡ ! just- please, please..."

"you sweet thing." Santiago intoned "sweet filthy thing."

"I say we fuck her like she wants us to." Frankie hums from behind you, his cock rubbing against your leaking entrance. "that's what you want, right baby? want us both inside your little pussy. stretch her out and ruin you for others.." and you whimper as your cunt pulses around nothing. "Yeah, she likes that. dirty fucking girl." It was raw and intense— how their command over you ignited an unyielding desire to please them, to make them proud.

they both pull away, and in no time, your body is squished between theirs, strong arms holding you down as if you're to run away. Santiago harshly cups your face, forcing your mouth open; He gathers some spit into his mouth, for him to promptly spit it down onto your tongue. He watches proudly as you swallow it all, his thumb running across your bottom lip. Frankie was biting your shoulder, sucking at your sensitive skin as he held you by your throat in a way that's sure to leave marks.

"lift your hips for us." Santiago commands, and you do as you're told. He tangles his hand around in your hair as his other one reaches down to his cock, aligning it with your entrance. He eases in, making you throw your head back onto Frankie, his fingers now massaging your sensitive clit. "Fuckingㅡ look at her, swallowing me in one go. pretty girl.." he coos, pulling your head back by the hair to face him. From behind you, Frankie slowly lifts you up with his knees and slips inside of you, both men moaning into your ears. Tears slip past your eyes again and you cry from the pain and pleasure as your mouth falls open, unsure if you're still conscious or not. "feels good, baby? us splitting you open right here where anyone from the street can see... you like that?" Frankie was right, all it took was for a taller person to stare a bit over the fence and they'd have front row seats at this show.

" 'course she does. little whores like her get off to that. bet she'd let us fuck her in front of her dad. let him see the slut his daughter actually is." With that, Santiago finally starts to move, his eyes rolling back as Frankie pushes down onto your lower belly, as he moves his hips. "So fucking deep, shitㅡ feel that?" he laughs "want us to come this deep, huh? have you all filled up till you can't hold anything inside of you.."

"p-pleaseㅡ"

"i could fuck this tight cunt forever, god." the other in front of you grunts, the hand from your hair now focused on your nipples and one placed firmly onto your hips. Frankie had one hand on your stomach and one onto your face, two of his fingers stretching your mouth open. You let yourself be taken over by them. it felt like you were flying so high and intoxicated by them, you weren't sure how you'd recover.

"thank you, thank youㅡ" you babble incoherently.

Santiago quickened his pace, causing Frankie to do the same, and with a few more strokes, they both bury themselves deep inside your core, white warm ropes painting your velvety walls. The sudden warmth and full feeling sends you completely over the edge, having you shake and pulse around them as you reach your orgasm.

you all sit there, them deep inside of you, you between them, breathing heavily as they planted kisses upon your skin. After you came down, you realized what happened, and worse, that it was over, a thought which made you let out a pathetic sob and clench around them out of desperation. "easy girl, we still have two days left." Frankie breaks the silence. "It was you who said you wanted us to use you, no? you who wanted to be our cum doll forever.." Santiago follows.

You're right where you want to be.

[all-pacas]

So we both agree that chase is the one who fell in love first but who fell HARDER

…………………………………………still chase lmaooooo

the weird thing is that they're both such a mess of abandonment issues, right? cameron is petrified of loss, which usually manifests itself as her being afraid of death, but very much also manifests in how she tries to control and diminish her relationships: she gives up entirely on house at first rejection -- and, crucially, at the first hint that he understands her -- (in an earlier episode, we also see her lash out and handle basic criticism terribly; cameron does not handle rejection well at all) and keeps trying to micromanage and arrange outs with chase to avoid this happening: she can't be hurt if she isn't vulnerable, right?

as much as i hate saviors, she really sums it up: she ghosts chase not because she doesn't want to marry him, but because she is somehow convinced it is not real, he is only reacting to kutner's death, he doesn't mean it, he doesn't really want her. we see it in lockdown, too: she says she is broken, she is the problem. cameron, i think, does see herself as incapable of being loved, deep down. she is afraid of being vulnerable. cameron has been hurt a lot. she has lost a lot. she is afraid of commitment, because she is afraid of loss.

and chase is the same, but a different flavor of the same, right? he's less afraid of loss, because he's never really had love in the first place: his mother was explicitly abusive, and his father was neglectful at best. he is desperate for connection and intimacy and love, but unlike cameron -- who seems to have had a reasonably "normal" upbringing, who did fall in love, repeatedly, in her life, despite the attached trauma and guilt -- we don't really get a sense he's found it before. has he ever dated anyone? we hear about foreman casually dating multiple women. at best, chase briefly slept with a woman who liked to be burned. and maybe that was a serious relationship, but… the signs point to no. we see he's prone to some jealousy and insecurity -- fear of loss, fear of losing cameron -- and that once they have split up, he spends a year and a half or so explicitly trying to recreate that feeling (the show states this pretty bluntly).

HOUSE: Yes, [Chase has] been dating at a near-Clooney pace recently, but at this point, the only hole he's trying to fill is the one in his soul, which means it's the emotional connection with Cameron that he misses.

he's been abandoned by his parents/adults/later cameron, so he seeks out connections pretty desperately; he doesn't really know the pain of loss/rejection pre-divorce because he's never had it to start with, you know? cameron has already suffered heartbreak and loss, and is exceptionally guarded as a result.

so, chase absolutely fell first. no question. and he fell harder, because imagine the fucking rush, your first little teenage crush and serious relationship all at once, and it's with cameron who is so sweet and nice and good at this (and just as much of a freak as he is). but i don't think cameron was really much better! we see in fwb era that she sucks at it: "i will never fall for you and this is totally casual" to "spending day and night together, coming into work together after showering together" in the span of one episode. we see how often she is willing to push herself and do whatever she can to make chase happy -- not that he is super demanding, but like. he spends a year afraid to ask her for closet space, and within an hour of her finding out, she's run home to do it, you know? she's just… more cautious than he is, at least at this stage in their lives.

at one point in s5, cameron complains to house that chase has a "naive, romantic view of relationships." this is so funny. it is also so true, and really sums them up: cameron spends the entire relationship braced for a bad ending, because that's all she knows. chase could die. he could cheat on her. he could propose and not mean it. he could realize she's broken and bad and dump her.

chase, meanwhile, has lived his life trying to earn love and respect (from dad, god, house, you name it) by doing everything he's told and being good; he is planning out his and cameron's future and vacations and their three kids, because if he's good and obedient and does everything right, she'll love him back.

[a-pretentious-bastard]

Fahrenheit 451

Good evening,

For the first time in years, perhaps since I was ten or eleven (which would be an astonishing 8-10 years now) I have finished a book. I did not read it because I was told, or because I wanted to be looked at as the sort of odd, intelligent person who reads for whatever reason, which for the entirety of my middle and high school years seemed like a hobby only pretentious bastards would have, because what could you possibly find in a book that could not be found in a movie, then show, then youtube video, then tiktok.

Well, I believe I found the answer. On May 5, 2025, I finally picked up a book I had purchased months earlier with the intent to read it, which had been collecting dust on the floor of my wreck of a bedroom since, and I took it to work. And I spent maybe twenty scattered minutes reading Neil Gaiman's introduction to Fahrenheit 451, the 60th anniversary edition, and it hit me like a train. Within a few pages, I laid the book to rest for the day. By Friday evening, I had finished up to page 66, an average of less than 15 pages per day. Abysmal, really, in my childhood I would read a book of this length in a night. A Mango Shaped Space, the book I likely read the most times in my childhood, would be devoured in the span of a night or two, read only before bed by the light of my small bookmark-flashlight I had gotten from the school library, which would be tucked under my pillow if I heard the faintest creak of a floorboard, for fear of being caught. It was a depressing realization, how poor my attention span had gotten since I stopped reading as a kid. I was reading much slower than I used to, much less, yet it felt as if I was a voracious beast, consuming the pages faster than the fire Bradbury writes.

Saturday, the day I designate not to take my vyvanse, and allow myself to rest, I did nothing. Absolutely nothing. But I had an itch for the duration of the day. Not the sort of itch I get from my allergies, and not the urge to do that my vyvanse gives me. But it was like a voice whispered into my ear, read, Raph. Open that book, smell the pages, and consume. Devour. And, I sort of did. I opened the book to page 67, the beginning of The Sieve and the Sand and after pushing through ten pages, the hour ticking to the point of yawning punctuating each page, I slowly became hypnotized. Entranced. The time ticked by slowly, I felt, until I reached the end of the section, and realized that I'd read about 40 pages, the entirety of the section, in a few hours. My progress was slow, yes, but one must account for the fact that as I read, I truly wanted to comprehend the text, to understand it. So I would underline things, write my questions, if I encountered a word I wasn't 100% certain I understood, I would pull out my trusty Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary (Eleventh Edition), the physical copy I purchased this week to reduce distractions, and I would find the word, rewrite the appropriate definition on the page next to the word. I find that writing in books, despite my detestation for annotations in high school English class, actually does aid my understanding of the book, at least when I do it my way.

I eventually tired, scribbled some notes in my handy-dandy Composition Notebook, one of those ones with the marbled black and white cover that reminds me of my childhood, where I now scribble my questions and thoughts haphazardly, spent a few minutes on my phone, and subsequently passed out. That is the only word for how I sleep, nowadays. I do not allow myself to rest, I find distractions until my eyes grow so heavy that when I blink, I forget to open them back up again. I do that one or two more times, until I tuck my phone under my pillow and lose consciousness.

Sunday, my mission was to simply finish section three of the book, Burning Bright. That was the section where I entirely stopped even trying when we had been assigned to read this book in class. I finally hit the point where I did not know what would happen. For the first time in months, I did my laundry, not because I was out of clean clothes, but because there was laundry to be done. I walked my dog twice, soon to be thrice once I finish writing this pointless post for this pointless blog. And, for the first time since picking up this book on Monday, I opened it, not because I was about to go to bed, and not because I was looking for something to fill the time between customers at the shop I run, but because I wanted to. I have better things to do, more entertaining things to do, but I opened the book. And I read the section. And then I read the History, Context, and Criticism included at the end of the book. Everything from pages 107 to 249, all 142 pages, more than I'd read in the 5 days prior combined. And then I wrote notes about it. And then I started a blog about it. And now, I am changed.

Fahrenheit 451 was the best possible choice for my first book back. I had tried to make Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy my first, I'd considered even digging up my old copy of A Mango Shaped Space or Hatchet because I know I love those books, but something drew me to this book. And, like a moth to a flame (get it?) I listened. And the flame burned me up, and made me feel vulnerable. I used to read books for entertainment, or out of boredom, to fill that void of terrifyingly macabre thoughts that have plagued my OCD-riddled brain since I was not four years old, and began to contemplate my own mortality before I ever spoke to anyone aside from my own mother, and on rare occasions, my father or grandparent. I still experience the same, debilitatingly dark thoughts, yes. But this book has taught me to embrace them. This book has taught me to be an idiot, a fool, that I will not learn everything, but I should continue on my quest to learn everything. That I should speed up, yes, but also slow down, that I was not built for this much mindless information pumped into me. I feel as if this book is the black cobra that has been slid down my throat to pump up the inky black liquid of my being. And this book has made be go outside, and when I inhaled the air outside, I was filled with something new. I am renewed, from the inside out. This book has not changed my life, but given me life. Perhaps I am in a manic state, as a friend of mine joked, but I feel like the phoenix Granger describes. Or humanity as a whole. I have died, been burnt to ash, perhaps I was dying this whole time, my entire life a slow death, a descent into nothingness. And this book has made me felt as if I am new. It's strange, in the month since I turned 20, my average screen time for a Sunday has gone from a revolting 14 hours a day or more, to 5, with the promise of continuing to decrease. I have not had any changes in my life, I work just as much, if not more than before. But it's like I have woken up.

This isn't really a book review, it's a life review. I feel as if I need to tell people, tell someone, anyone. We aren't supposed to feel like this. Scrolling from one post to the next. If Ray Bradbury saw who I was a week ago, saw what I did on a daily basis, I think he would grab my wrist and press his thumb into it, to check for a pulse. He might press an ear to my chest, listening not for the beating of a heart, but the grinding of gears, the soft hum of electricity, as if I was no more than a sickeningly lifelike automaton. I hated Mildred throughout the book, yet the more I read, the more I realized I was her. I was the epitome of everything Ray Bradbury was warning us about. But then, he told me how Montag woke up. And I felt as if I woke up with him. And now I want to stay awake, and read. I was looking up people who read lots of books in a year, and I felt something strange. I saw people claiming to have read 60 books a year, and when I read their guides on how to achieve something similar, I felt almost nauseous, seeing them recommend only reading a book once, not focusing on the heavy details, not contemplating the meaning. And to pick shorter books—blasphemy! While I am the concept of overachieving personified, I cannot imagine reading like that for the sake of a higher book count. Why, at that point, pick up children's books and read a dozen a day, why don't you?! I suppose I just cannot understand reading if you don't intend on growing from it. Gaining something from it. Satisfaction, yes, but... is that it?

If you've actually read my incoherent ramblings, congratulations, you've got a greater attention span than I. I would tell you to read a book, but clearly you are doing much better than myself, so perhaps you don't need to. Or perhaps you already have. Regardless, thank you for entertaining me.

Sincerely,

Some pretentious bastard on the internet.

P.S. Was it just me, or was there lowkey some romantic chemistry between Montag and Faber? I don't know, maybe it's just me.

[tea-and-secrets]

I feel horrible about this, but it's escalated to a point where this issue could destroy my life if I don't find a way to stop doing it.

So, for some reason, I get these really intense, obsessive, really disturbing fascinations with people. There's no pattern to them, no specific personality type or anything that sets it off, and I have never had more than one or maybe two per year, although they don't usually last more than a few (3-5) months. They're NOT hyperfixations. I've been hyperfixated on people before. For me, it never lasts more than 2 months (usually FAR less) and is entirely platonic, not at all violent or distressing, and doesn't make me upset in any way. I've had hyperfixations and an obsession at the same time, once I had an obsession and hyperfixated on each of his main friends within a 3 month span rapid fire style.

These obsessive feelings are like. Needing to talk to them, intrusive thoughts about hurting them, wanting to find them IRL (even if they live states away), to show up where they are, to call them at ofd hours, constantly imagining a future together, and they're always very romantic/explicit in nature. They make me feel physically ill from how gross they are. They're like nonstop intrusive thoughts of a relationship, but with this intense desire to constantly act on them and a need to be around the person all the time. And not being close to the person makes the intrusive thoughts worse.

It has never happened with someone I have actual romantic attraction to, but it happens even if I don't know them in person or we never met IRL. Usually after they fade I feel ambivalent or cold or just vaguely normal about the person. So basically after a few months of agony it sorts out and I am free usually for 8-10 months. I've never dated someone I have an obsession with. I understand them enoughto know they wouldn't mimic intrusive thoughts if they were genuinely romantic feelings. Plus, they don't last. They always fade eventually and honestly, they seriously freak me out. I don't want to have murderous intrusive thoughts when someone doesn't pick up a Skype call. That's not my idea of romantic.

Usually, I just wait for these feelings to pass, or limit contact with the person, but this time. It's so much worse.

The person is my friend, and way too young for me. He's not a minor, he's just to young for me (4 years younger, its my personal thing). He's taken, not my type, and I've always seen him as a pesky younger brother of sorts, so I never even considered this would happen. Having these feelings about him makes me feel violently ill. I've tried ignoring him and pushing him away until they stopped, but he noticed and I feel guilty punishing him for a problem that's only in my head. It isn't his fault there's something wrong with me. But I dont know what to do. If I told him about it, I'm worried he might think I like him (I don't think I do, I know how my obsessions are and it isn't love) and based on comments he's made, I'm worried he might actually try to rope me into a polycule or shoot his shot with me. Neither of those would be good places for my mental state.

I also really don't want our other friends to hear about this because I have a crush on one friend who's way older than me (we're both adults but we would NOT have gone to high school together ha ha) and I still want to hold out hope that in a few years she might see me as a viable partner (a bi can dream...) which would be jeopardized if she knew I'm basically a freak of nature.

So I need to figure out how to fix this part of me, FAST. I can't keep doing this and I'm scared things will fall apart or I'll lose it trying to fix this but I'm scared of losing everything.

I wish I could just have been born normal but I wasn't and now I have to fix it. It doesn't feel fair, and I hate it, but I want to be normal and not have to deal with this anymore. I want to just be okay, and I don't know how. I just know that normal people don't do this and this scares me. I don't want to hurt people, I don't want to be like this, and I don't know how to fix it, so I just suffered in silence for years. And now I have to fix it and don't know where to start. I just needed to tell someone about it.

.

[velvet4510]

Look, I know the novelization has the “he didn’t know her, there wasn’t time” line about Jyn and Cassian.

I get the strong points made by takes and fics that bounce off this saying the two of them were an “I could have loved you” situation.

It’s unquestionable that their relationship would’ve only deepened and strengthened if they’d only had more time. There was a lot more they could’ve learned about each other’s pasts plus, you know, the little things like favorite colors and favorite food, things that normal couples know about each other. They were robbed of the happy future that they deserved and should have had more time among the living, no doubt about that.

But still, I don’t feel like that makes their feelings any less real.

Especially, you know, considering that people buy into the Titanic love story which plays out over just as short a span of time as RebelCaptain’s story (72 hrs max), and I’d argue that within those hours, Jyn and Cassian went through as much, if not more, together than Jack and Rose did. There’s just no “could” about their feelings. They got there.

The looks they shared, the total lack of personal space, his face when she took down the Jedha troops, their perfect teamwork in battle, the sheer number of times he came back for her, the sheer number of times he chose her over everything else, the fact that she canonically wanted to throw herself after him when he fell apparently to his death, the fact that in her head she placed him on the same level as her parents when thinking about what Krennic took from her, the fact that he made his way to the top of the tower with a broken back to save her, the sheer intimacy of the elevator moment and final hug… You don’t do any of those things for someone you don’t love.

Plus just the fact that they affected each other so quickly, that within only a few days they had already changed each other for the better and brought out the best in one another, the fact that they willingly died for each other and she didn’t leave him behind to escape when she could’ve, the fact that he literally declared himself her home … If that isn’t love, I just don’t know what is.

It happened so quickly because they’re soulmates; you only need to watch Andor to know that’s true. I’ve lost count of the number of parallels between their stories thanks to this show.

It is admittedly likely that mutual self-doubt about feelings made them think that it wasn’t real yet, and they were fooling themselves. It certainly was too soon for them to say it out loud, considering how inexperienced they were with relationships this deep and this loving. But they said it in the elevator, with their eyes (and maybe a kiss).

Their feelings were real, whether they knew it or not. By the end, they were in love.

I’m sorry, but nobody can convince me otherwise.

[yakuzabrainrotlive]

Once again taking it very slow with IW, I want to savour the game properly. And also I want to kinda draw this out because I'm so used to having one of these games in-progress at all times.

Can we. Can we PLEASE not call it that 😭😭

Scariest shit I've seen in a video game. Absolutely terrible. Thanks, I hate it!

Can I be real. I ADORE Tomizawa. I need him to live through this game. Please. I can't bear the thought of him dying. He's seriously a TOP 5 character contender for me! The most relatable guy in the series fr.

Loving how the game isn't afraid to address problems within the legal system! I don't know the ins and outs of the US police, but I do know the system is less than savoury.

I wonder how accurate all the political stuff about the US-Hawaii relations is. If anyone knows, let me know! I'm very interested about how much or how little of what's portrayed in the game is made up or if it's all very exaggerated.

What's with these protags and approaching gun-wielding people?? I mean, sure; Kiryu did survive 3 whole bullets in Y6 on top of getting bashed on the head with a metal pipe dozens of time by a buff dude. But, babygirls, even you're not making it if the bullet ends up between your eyes or in your heart! I'd say please value your own lives more, but that's an impossible challenge for Kiryu and Ichiban, it seems. Thankfully they're both absolute tanks with minds of steel.

Like I said; absolutely no self-preservation. Sheesh, Ichiban; you could at least pretend to be a little bit shaken up😭 you're unsettling best boy Tomizawa!! And me, kinda.

These two... Why are they actually the goofiest pair of characters ever. They might actually surpass Majima and Nishida in terms of silliness in my books. Absolute dorks, the both of them.

I'm really liking how genuine and open Kiryu is with Ichiban. He's not trying to keep up the tough guy act NEARLY as much. It's interesting to see the... maybe not mask, but the kind of a pretense he often has going on, dropping. Maybe it's his age, or he just trusts Ichiban that much. Or maybe it's the better environment. Maybe a little bit of everything.

My poor man... you're gonna have to get used to this stuff if you don't wanna die of a heart attack or stroke within the next 48 hours. God, I love Normal Characters interacting with Ichiban and/or Kiryu and being totally flabbergasted because

a) how is this man alive?

b) how can anyone be this good and self-sacrificing? AND LIVE?

c) how is anyone this calm and collected after almost dying in multiple horriffic ways within the time span of a few hours?

[starweavingwritings]

The Journey So Far

It had only been less than two weeks since Saedre finally arrived at her destination in the southernmost area of the Azure Span. Through misty forests and along the fringe of icy tundra, the journey to the Azure Archives on foot was a treacherous one with landscape alone. Adding the conflict deep within these lands of dragonkind to the mix only made it all the more challenging and not to mention, her troubles with her familiar, Aveem. 

In truth, Saedre was never meant to make this journey alone. It was to her surprise that she had reconnected with Mason Kohler at the encampment within the Waking Shores, where he had quickly volunteered his assistance to her plight with Aveem’s troubling malfunctions. After all the two had been through in the time that had passed since they had last seen one another, she supposed she couldn’t really find herself surprised by his enthusiasm to aid her; just as was his nature in general and simply their relationship over the years.

And what of their relationship? That was turning out to be pretty damned challenging now and she didn’t really have time to think about that. No matter what feelings churned within her once more when seeing him again, the lid containing them must remain in place. Besides, it didn't seem like either of them were in a place to actually touch upon that subject yet.

Managing to avoid the more heavily impacted areas of conflict at first, it was once the two had reached the Ohn'ahran plains when they had found themselves separated. After hours of grueling tests meant to prove their merit to a small tribe of centaur they encountered, the two barely had a moment to truly rest at the camp before they found themselves caught up in an unexpected attack launched by primalist allied centaur on their newfound allies. 

Overwhelmed by their forces, Saedre and Mason were somehow separated in their retreat when she had fallen behind, swept up in a small group of centaur moving the opposite direction when they scattered. Since then, there had been no word on Mason’s whereabouts even though she had tried to find him after the dust had settled. Scouts were able to confirm he was not among the fallen and so, it was with a heavy heart that Saedre made the reluctant decision a week later to continue on with her journey to the Azure Span where she sought the aid of the blue dragons on Aveem’s troubling issues. There was at least some hope that maybe Mason might find his way there as well since the two shared the destination. 

“It is pointless to linger behind,” Remret plainly stated to her; one of the centaurs she managed to escape with. “My people know these lands better than any, so if anyone can find the human, it is us. You would only get in our way.”

Saedre huffed softly under her breath as she recalled the centaur’s harsh words and continued to watch the snow fall outside of her window. Nearly two weeks since her arrival to the Azure Archives and still not even a whisper of Mason’s whereabouts. Not even Aveem could assist her as the familiar had been in keen observation under the eye of Zifangosa; the blue dragon who reluctantly agreed to aid the elf. 

“If patience is all I have to see me through, then so be it then,” she muttered in the tone of one who very much lacked that virtue at this point in time. If anything, she needed to keep herself busy and so, that is just what she would do.

@masonkohler for mentions.

[wwooyology]

TW: ed, depression, anxiety, health issues, overall mental illness (sorry in advance for the rant as I know I don't normally post private stuff, but I need to get this off of my chest.)

as many of you have probably noticed, I haven't been active all that much here lately aside from posting my angstober fics. this is a result of multiple things, but you guys deserve to know a little bit about what's going on.

these past few months haven't exactly been easy for me and I feel as if my health is just slowly going down the drain. I have an multiple anxiety attacks within the span of a day, my heart problems that I thought had subsided decided to show back up causing me quite a bit of discomfort and pain, not to mention how bad my depression has been getting. I have been stuck in I like to call a brain fog for a while. I don't get the proper amount of sleep or food and it shows, I didn't really notice how bad it was until my grandma pointed out that I had lost quite a bit of weight this past weekend.

I don't think I've had a stretch this bad in a very long time, and to be honest, I have a vague idea as to why this sparked up. when I'm not working my normal job (which is 9pm-7am) I am at home babysitting for my cousin bc the daycares around here suck ass at getting people off of the waitlist. I have been watching this kid since she was about three months old, and she is now well over a year old. when I first started watching her, it wasn't an issue bc she slept most of the time, so that meant that I got a good amount of sleep, however, as many who have kids or babysit know that, as they get older, the less they sleep and will continuously get into things they aren't supposed to. so this also means that the amount of sleep I get in a day dwindles immensely (normally about 3 hrs if I'm lucky). now, I'm sure some of you are probably like...

"kayla why don't you just tell her you don't want to watch her anymore?"

trust me, I wish it were that easy, but I am a people pleaser at heart, especially with family. I can't tell her no and leave her with no one to watch her kid, which means she can't work. she has her family to take care of, so I just endure it. however, what really sucks is that no one really knows what it's like because they aren't me. they do try to help and watch her when they can, but seeing as I am the only one who works the night shift, it makes it difficult to find anyone else.

now, on to another FUN part of my life. my dietary habits. I have, for as long as I can remember, always eaten one meal a day, maybe two if it was close to my period. this has always been a thing, but when I moved in with my aunt, it changed because she always made sure that I would eat at least something. here, as of late, tho, it has gotten worse. I can barely take a bite of anything without the immediate need to go and throw it all back up, then I'm left feeling shaky and nauseous for hours after. I'm not sure what brought this along, but it's only gotten worse as my anxiety has picked up.

I don't want to get too far deep into things and babble about useless things, so I'll just leave this here. thank you to those who have read this far <3

[scover-va]

Oh yeah since ive realized i cant do one big masterpost abt my security breach rewrite like i wanted due to image limit stuff (i did all the art on my phone and trying to get it on desktop is a painful process), im just making lil snippet posts to slowly feed you guys information. As per usual, it’s a long post so all the info will be under the cut

Starting off! Protagonist role is shifted over to Vanessa (Gregory still plays a decently important role story-wise, but he loses his protag rights), the ‘gameplay’ (said like that bc its hypothetical. Im not making a game) being split into two sections: the Dayshift Phase, and the Nightshift Phase.

Dayshift Phase (which is the focus of this post) is very simple in nature, but also the part that I have less specific details for at the moment due to it being less impactful on the overall story.

Essentially, Vanessa spends this phase running a variety of errands and tasks within the Pizzaplex, spread across over the span of a 5 day work week. For obvious reasons. While the majority of tasks come from whoever her higher ups are (the newest ceo of fazent will be revealed in a later post), there are a few oddballs mixed in thanks to the 80’s serial killer that lives inside her head. Because we’re ignoring Mimic in this au. At least for now. William has no physical presence in the rewrite though, he’s moreso haunting the narrative just as much as he’s haunting Vanessa. It’s complicated and I’ll get into the changes in a different posts where I’ll discuss the changes that have been made to the Glitchtrap situation, as well as discuss the other employees mentioned in Help Wanted.

The map itself doesn’t change too much. Glamrock Bonnie gets to live in this au (i needed him alive and present for. Reasons I’ll discuss when I get to the Nightshift Phase) and Glamrock Chica gets an actual, proper attraction, which is a rollerskating rink. Yes this means her feet/talons/whatever-the-term-is double as heelys.

But, to start off, here’s the main gal herself!

Vanessa, obviously, gets the rainbow hair back. Because it was the most iconic part of Vanny before SB came out imo. She’s a bit more of an anxious mess, but I would be too if I was under the psychological influence of a serial killer. Her job pretty much stays the same, now working both dayshift and nightshift at the Pizzaplex. Because in true FazEnt fashion, the employees are not treated fantastically.

She doesn’t like talking about either of the founders for wildly different reasons. William because she’s forced to co-exist with him and he has caused great internal suffering over the past five years (Help Wanted takes place in 2033, whereas Security Breach takes place in 2038, so it’s been a long five years for her), and Henry for reasons I’ve touched up on in the past and will further discuss in a later post.

And without further ado, here is her collection of coworkers! Minus her boss

And essentially all information you see here is all the information I have on them, besides a few minor facts. I won’t state them here partially because it’s an uneven amount of facts between them all and partially because tumblr is now running incredibly slow, however if anyone asks things I can and will answer to the best of my ability. Will I ever figure out the specifics for the dayshift phase’s tasks? Maybe! We’ll see

Anyways that’s all for now, I just wanted to show off the girl of the hour as well as her coworkers before I resumed today’s fnaftober piece because it relates to vanny in the ruin part of the rewrite and giving details for the ruin part before the base game part feels wrong. Alright thats all ty

[floaroanemoia]

“Either I’m embellishing a story for shocking effect, or I’m the only one telling the truth in a room full of liars.“ hi jess hows the weather

     A room full of liars.

     That is always what they have been—or, at least, those who played a hand in the young one’s banishment. Liars and thieves, who stumbled in upon the morning shore and in lieu of listening to the water and foam lapping at their feet, trying to usher them back into the sea, they tore themselves from it. When met with the vast land of Hisui, when their eyes fell upon the sight of fellow human beings who long knew the innerworkings of the region, they had claimed it theirs for the taking. A fresh canvas to build upon, even if it meant unknowingly using the foundations built by people millennia back. A dangerous, unviable place, that man had described it as, and the pokemon  even more so. The campsites among toppled and crumbling ruins vital, even if they could serve the same purpose away from what was once towns or temples to honour the stars, the unknowable, but was still home to the surviving few.

     From day one, the very premise that village had been built upon was a lie, perpetuated by the loyal, the persecuted and the lost.

      Sarana’s brow furrows, lips drawing into a line for what feels to be the umpteenth time within the span of a few minutes. Heart strings are tugged and pulled, scraping along the depths of her chest. This has gone too far now. The Nobles falling victim to frenzy, the sky taking upon itself both patterns and colours described only in tales told to the medium when she was a little girl. And now, the hero—the child—who sought to stop it all has been cast out. Banished by that same, lost liar. Left to die over nothing more than ill-placed suspicion.

     And in the name of their people, no less. The Celestica.

    Perhaps it would be easier, to simply accuse Volo of lying. Point the fingers at him to give her mind one more chance to refuse the reality placed before her—of that brave, young soul being left to fend on their own, and maybe already no longer of this world. He is a man with the tendency to embellish, that is true. A theatrical heart when it comes to tales that must be made taller for a certain response, or to heighten the value of an item no rarer than the dirt beneath their feet. But that is simply it—for stories. For sales. And she knows the tones, the inflections, the dramatic gestures and expressions which accompany them.

     He wears neither. From a glance up, stare as piercing as it had been before—sharpened, and yet terribly guarded; like a cornered creature ready to strike out at the slightest provocation—, the woman can tell that much. And what reason would have Volo to lie about this? No, in fact, the hushed voice, the shifting nature of his gaze, it resembles more of those rarer times. When his own smile had faded with the sunlight, and solemn words followed suit. Even if the version he has told her sounds far direr, and infinitely more unfair on the child, Sarana cannot see him lying about this. Far more likely would it be that those of the village have downplayed the situation, either to preserve their own morality, to give Kamado the benefit of the doubt, or to reassure themselves that the one who fell from the sky would be just fine on their own.

    Out there. In the cold climate of Hisui. With a couple of days to learn what she had been taught for over a decade, just to have the faintest chance of surviving more than a week.

          “…Very well, I believe you,”

     Fingers unlace themselves from beneath the medium’s chin, and with a swift movement, she falls back into the chair, a huff of air escaping from her form. Her head turns, and eyes shift to that accursed building’s side, inwardly cursing how it dares to take its colours from the sunrise. She must find them—before something else does. Something dangerous, or someone willing to prey on vulnerabilities. With the sun setting, and hours slipping by, there would be no time to assemble the others for a search party. They are too far; too spread out around the land. Sophora should be fast enough—her Ninetales and Zoroark proficient enough to track their scent. But perhaps, with this much knowledge on their situation, he might have heard the faintest hint of a last known location.

          “Volo. Where were they left? Do you know anything about where they might be?”

[autumnmobile12]

I have so many problems with Attack on Titan, but right now I want to talk about the illogical world-building.

Giant creatures who only eat humans and only have one 'Achilles Heel' to take them out. Got it.

And you want to fight them with swords?

How did two swords win? They went through the trouble to build a whole, physics defying harness contraption to make them fly?

There were so many other weapons they could have used if they couldn't get to 'the weak spot.'

Step One, discover electricity. Step Two, build a goddamn fence.

Do they breathe? I don't remember, but poisonous gas. (Not in a civilian setting obviously and you'd need a breathing apparatus.)

Invent the flamethrower.

Too much to ask? Fine, here's some less technical solutions:

Caltrops.

Boiling oil poured over the side of the Wall.

Sulfuric acid and other dangerous chemical compounds that will break down organic matter. (There's gotta be a chemist somewhere here.)

Put spikes on the Wall.

Survey Corps all gathered together in a concentrated group to lure the titans in to a trap...coulda used that tactic to dig a pit trap, no?

Set the titans on fire.

Let's also address the fact the Survey Corps was completely useless by existing as the living embodiment of Einstein's definition of insanity. “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” That 'brilliant idea' of Armin's where they travel to Shiganshina at night because the titans are less active..............you're telling me....that in a hundred years...nobody else thought of that?!

The government and public were right; they were a strain on resources and brought little benefit to society. If they wanted to be useful, the purpose of the expeditions should've been more forage/hunting based in order to bring food back to a starving populace. And there would have been food. The people of Wall Maria had to abandon their homes within a twelve hour or less span, so there is no conceivable way everyone could have brought all their livestock with them. Survey Corps could've been protecting civilians as they rounded up lost cattle, pigs, chickens, sheep, etc. And Sasha might’ve gone down in history as the greatest Scout of all time.

Another thing that doesn't add up: the textile industry. With as much land as they had, the pasture land food-clothing ratio was not adequate for the population.

There are not enough cows!

Based on available materials, I assume the ODM harness and boots are made of leather. With the limited space for cattle, that supply could not meet the demand at the rate the Scouts were being killed off. (They were definitely recycling dead people's boots and gear.) That's not even taking into account regular people who need footwear or the countless other things that require leather: saddles and other horse tack, gloves, tools, heavy protective aprons for factory workers or smiths, etc.

Cotton requires a long growing season. Do they have that? Linen comes from flax seed. You'd need space to grow that and flax doesn't have much nutritional use other than soup. Same goes for jute. Wool is a possibility, but is everything made of wool? What about silk? Do they have silk worms? What are the wealthy wearing?

We can probably rule out synthetic and mineral fabrics as I don't think they have the technology.

Natural resources: They use firearms and cannons, which means there has to be a sulfur mine somewhere to make gunpowder. Except naturally-occurring sulfur is most commonly found near volcanic regions. Volcano on that island? Maybe, if sulfur was one of the 'resources' the Marley people were after.

Where are they getting the alcohol? There's a food shortage and no sane nation is going to allow citizens to plant vineyards on land that can be used for crops and they're not going to use grain for beer when it could be used for bread. I get there was corruption in the government, but limited space is limited space.

Another thing I would like to point out is no matter how many times the Founding Titan suppressed knowledge of the outside world, any mathematician with enough determination could have gone rogue and calculated the size of their world. Despite what we were told in kindergarten, people did not 'discover' the earth was round when Columbus 'discovered' America and nobody believed the earth was flat. (He also didn't discover America, but that's not what we're here for.) Ancient Greek mathematician, librarian, astronomer, scholar Eratosthenes of Cyrene determined the circumference of the earth by comparing the sun's position in the sky in relation to two different points on earth.

He was off by 2%.

Why is this important? The old order of the Walls was very much greed-based. When word of exactly how much land (and wealth) they were missing out on got out, the merchant guilds would have had their own coup against the king.

[8-evil-annoying-catboys]

it’s absurd that this post is missing the real reason kids don’t play outside anymore, in america, if not other places. it’s not parental choice, really, and it’s not a culture shift towards caring more about kids’ safety. the mention of the death of community hits part of it, but the other major part that’s missing is that green spaces keep disappearing. and in places where green spaces were already scarce, kids are targeted for ‘loitering’ wherever kids used to play outside in concrete jungles. outside is incredibly hostile to everyone, but especially kids, these days.

it’s no wonder kids don’t play outside when outside is nothin but a ton of roads and 15 chain restaurants with no park or basketball court or playground within walking distance from their house, and kids with a backyard are lucky. can you blame them for staying home, and seeking out a community online to supplement their loneliness? i sure can’t. after the age of, like, 10, i was doing the same thing, and especially after i turned 13, and things weren’t as bad then as they are now.

it’s only been 11 years since i first became a teenager, and so much has changed even in that span of time, but because i was a teenager for most of that time, i saw it and i know now as an adult. i can’t blame older adults for not seeing it, if they were teens 20, 30, 40+ years ago, and they’ve been too busy with their jobs and homes and marriages to worry so much about where kids have room to play, but i’m telling you. it’s because outside is a hostile place now, throughout most of america. maybe rural kids still have green spaces to play in, but urban kids and even suburban kids don’t, really. if they do, it’s limited, and less kids play there than they did 10-20 years ago, probably due to the fact that all their other friends don’t have green spaces to play in, so they’re all playing video games online instead.

i went to my childhood neighbourhood last fall to show my boyfriend where i grew up, and i was stunned by how empty everything was. there was still the same amount of grass, most of the same trees, still a playground, but no kids. 15 years ago, on an october afternoon or even evening, there’d have been kids running around everywhere in small groups, some supervised by adults but mostly not. even at the playground, there was like, one family with ONE small child. when i was a kid, that playground ALWAYS had someone there during the day, and in the afternoons/evenings or on weekends there’d be several families and kids of all ages playing. when i was a preteen and even when i was a teenager, before moving from that neighbourhood, i’d sit on the swings with my friend and talk for hours, watching other kids run around. the place was DESERTED on a weekend afternoon last fall.

This is a legitimate and damaging cultural shift for all involved parties and it needs to be addressed.

[mariahcareyfan1738]

vibes and stuff v3 12624

i keep fucking this up, third times the charm...

i feel lost in my own head nowadays. swimming through infinite oceans of music, sometimes drowning in their waves, sometimes slowly swimming through them, or, like today, letting their power wash over me.

words cannot describe the spiritual connection i have between myself, my soul, the energy that i have within me, and the music that i listen to. the deeper i go, the more divine it gets. the more i understand how much it means to me, the less words i have to convey it.

this seems wonderful doesnt it? so why do i feel so trapped?

___

the type of energy that you feel when watching something beautiful is increased exponentially when you watch someone have a similar reaction. both of your energies together become larger than the sum of their parts. you end up somewhere special. it has been so long since i have been able to truly share my love of music with someone else. this isnt something that would be an issue if i was truly alone, as i was in the past. the issue now is that i am in constant contact wiith people that i feel as though do not anything akin to the same spiritaul connection to music that i do, and that truly is the most isolating feelnig i can imagine .

crying to music, seeing how it brings people together, the raw passion that many perform with, and when i try to share how important this is to me, i get silence followed by 30 seconds of irony drenched "humor" that nobody even makes an attempt to laugh at anymore.

"we're your only friends, mariahcareyfan1738"

"dont remind me"

i want, so desperately, to find people that have a similar spiritual connection to music that i do. that understand why some things make me cry. that can understand when some things dont make sense to bring up. that i can truly be vulnerable around when it comes to music and art. that will speak as much as i do about the things that make them tick. but to even bring this up, to even attempt to discuss why these things are so important to me would be me again breaking the culture of irony that surrounds me.

i hate this term, but being around people that are so violently low vibrational is really bad for everybody involved, including me. i know this sounds like i have a superiority complex, and maybe i do, but i truly just think that some groups find their depth in a nihilistic shithole of language. that absurdity is the only language they speak, and to translate anything that resembles a genuine idea to their minds would require me coating everything im saying with a thick layer of plausible deniability so i can a. pretend that i dont actually care that much when the dice rolls on the "i dont care" face i dont look like a moron or b. attempt to inspire the listener to have a 5% buy-in to whatever im saying by slowly removing the irony from my verbage. either way, i am using unintuitve language concepts to discuss eelings people get degrees to express to an audience that, frankly, could give less of a shit.

i was thinking about deleting the app we chat both yesterday and today, but when i got the dopamine rush of potential human contact, those thoughts went out the window, but now that i am here, alone, no headphones, no sound but the sound of my keyboard and the whirring of my computer fans, i feel a solace that i find is somehow lacking when i hear the 50th nettspend joke in a four hour time span.

somehow.

this is so long. i feel like ive been writing for both hours and minutes. im just looking for ways to say that i want higher vibrational people around me. people that have stronger connections to their souls. people that look inwards before outwards. people that know what makes their spirit tick. people that are in love with what they love. people that dont see self pity as a tool to be wielded with impertinence, but instead as an accidental reaction to suffering they are experiencing.

ill probably write more tomorrow. if im not going to be talking to anybody else, i guess its just me and

me

[legaciestold]

october 13th, 1995 pre-series flashback cool night with moderate rain. cloudy skies, little moonlight. @everythingheard (chris)

claire redfield had always believed she'd had a pretty decent head on her shoulders. she might not be an angel who never did anything wrong but she didn't do drugs even if she'd occasionally sipped a beer before, managed to maintain a 'b' grade point average thus far this year (mostly because it'd dipped the year before when she'd missed so much school and moved across the country and frankly had been reeling from the loss of her parents yet she'd managed to bring it back up inside of a year and she was proud of that) and made an effort to volunteer on occasion. the seventeen-year-old also had been fairly confident in her ability to read people too. yet, within the span of a few hours on a rainy night in october, everything claire's believed of herself has managed to be shot to hell and the teenager had to wonder how she'd allowed herself to get from point a to where she was now.

music plays loudly, chatter and shouting and sounds emitting all around her. it's been an hour since she'd even seen janet or even janet's friend and claire's fall rain jacket remains on even though both it and her are soaked from someone spilling a drink on her. claire's not against the principle of parties, she could be down to go them-- she has; she's not even against the principle of drinking below the legal age if it was done safely and with people her own age that she trusted. but this-- this wasn't what claire had signed up for and definitely not somewhere she should be. she acknowledges it and she's known it since the moment they'd entered the door of the now packed house. this entire day had been a testament to why people had intuition and why one should listen to their gut-feelings and claire had been trying to make some new friends now that she'd managed to get her grades up and had the time to. and.. now that she finally felt a little less weighted and closed off. not that she forgot her parents, but life finally started to feel somewhat normal again. a new normal. but still normal. her and chris had a routine now at least. but tonight was supposed to be a girl's night with the girl she'd recently become friends with at school. they were supposed to watch movies and maybe talk about boys with her mom checking in on them to make sure they went to bed at a reasonable hour. normal teenager things.

they had gone off base to a movie but then janet had presented the idea of just making a quick stop at her friend's house and even if it was already dark out janet was the one with the car and she'd said it'd be quick. maybe claire should have had more concern than she'd talked herself out of when she'd asked the girl if she wanted to call her mom from the payphone and let her know they'd be late and janet had told her her mom was actually out of town until the next day. that hadn't been what she'd told claire and thus not what she'd told chris. that unease had become more pronounced when they'd gotten to the 'friends' house and claire had realized how close they were to the local collage campus. somehow that had devolved into the chaos that was now around her, a party-- a collage party-- in full-swing with a lot more eyes on her and substances around her than she was comfortable with and an unwillingness to attempt to ask a stranger for a ride and get herself into even deeper shit than she already felt like she was in. maybe it made her a bad person but at this point, after already telling janet she wanted to go home three times and being ignored and brushed off now that she was there, claire wasn't too concerned with the girl as much as she was with herself. claire has no idea what time it is when she finally gives up in looking for the girl and manages to get a hold of the phone attached to the wall that'd had a group of guys next to it for the last hour but she's infinitely relieved when she hears her brother's voice after six rings.

"i need you to come get me." comes her tense voice before she even offers a greeting, followed quickly by a general location of the cross streets because she hasn't managed to be able to get outside to see the house number but she thinks it'll be fairly obvious based on the loudness and million and one people there. "i swear i didn't know she was going to take to a party. she said we were stopping by her friend's real quick after the movie before we went back to her house and i thought her mom was home but then she said she wasn't and--" her words come out quicker than usual, her voice slightly higher too. then she's bumped into by a guy who tries to offer her something which causes the phone to slip, her grabbing it again a moment later and shoving him away from her.

"--i... i think this is a frat house-- like an unmarked one. there's a lot of college kids here, chris. and.. there's not just alcohol here and janet abandoned me. and i'm really mad at her but i should probably try to find her again. i want to go home and-- no i don't want a drink or whatever the fuck that is--" claire's voice emits both into the phone and at another person in the room by the tail end before she's speaking again, holding the phone with two hands as if she thinks it'll somehow get knocked out of her hand again. "-- c-chris, it might be a good idea to bring barry. can you just come and get me--" had she even let him get a word in or had everything she'd said managed to come out in under a minute and only come from her? claire has no idea because someone's just grabbed the phone out of her hands and hung it up with her making a distressed exclamation in the background.

a few minutes later, claire's locked herself in the bathroom upstairs and her jacket's somewhere downstairs where she'd managed to shake free of it with a rip when someone'd attempt to back her into a wall, them managing to get a hold of her jacket but not her. at this point, fuck janet. claire wasn't opening the bathroom door for anyone but her brother. because he would come. she held absolutely no doubt in that fact.