#But he’s got a cat shirt and some old tennis shoes on

[h-didanart]

ok ok ok ok hear me out—

I know that Dark//Evil Sun is a serious guy, he does what he wants, he takes what he needs, he just wants to be left alone in his little pocket dimension, and he’s ruthless and could probably kill the Creator in virtually no time

but I just came up with a design for him, to separate him from other Sun’s and all, and- and like- guys- guys, Evil Sun

But he looks like that

[nightmaremp]

Weremayhem: Song of Beasts. Ch 25: Good Old Fashion Teeth Celebration

 Dr. Teeth wiped some of his tears off his cheek. He was about to say something before he got hugged by his sister, Flora. “Brother!” said his little sister with a huge smile on her face. 

“Flora? What are you doing here?” asked the doc. 

“To see mama and daddy get the award.” replied Flora. She was wearing a light pink hoodie that had a cat eating a cookie on it. The little sister had some blue jeans and old tennis shoes on. The tennis shoes were black as coal. Flora was the same height as Tina. 

“Wait, how do you know about the award?” asked the ginger haired male. 

“Janice called and told me and our siblings about it.” replied Flora Teeth. 

“Anyway, I’m happy to see you,” she added. 

“Me too,” replied Junior as he smiled. Luna and Liam come up to them. 

Luna was wearing a flower pattern blue dress. Her long dark brown hair was in a bun. She had some black high heels on. “How have you been?” asked Luna Chirp. 

“I have been good.” replied Teeth with a smile. Liam walked up right behind Luna. 

“Hey” said Liam, his voice is soft. He is the tallest member of the family, taller than their father. Liam was wearing a white t-shirt with a leather jacket on top. Some blue jeans with some black boots. His long brown hair was in a ponytail that lay on his shoulder. 

“Hey Liam, How have you been?” replied the ginger haired male. 

“I been fine” replied the brown haired male. 

“Where is Xavier?” asked Tina as she looked around. 

“Mama, he didn’t want to come,” replied Flora. 

“Why? Business work or something with his family?” asked their mother. 

“No, it because he don’t want to be around Junior,” replied the youngest daughter, Flora. 

“What?” replied Tina Teeth in a bit of a bitter tone. 

“Yep” replied Luna. Their mother groans. 

“Whatever. How about we head back to your place, Junior and have a good famous feast to celebrate?” asked the ginger haired female with a smile. 

“Sure, mama!” replied Dr. Teeth. 

“Then let's go!” said Luna with a huge smile on her face. 

When everyone got back at the Shack, they were sitting and talking out back in the backyard. Gerald and Luna were making the food. Good old daughter and father bonding time like when she was younger. 

“So, what was it like when you guys were little?” asked Moog. 

“Teeth was the sweet mama boy and Liam was the punching bag or crybaby” replied Flora with a chuckle. 

“Flora was Animal but ten times worse. Xavier was someone who will tell on you or lie about things” added The ginger haired male. 

“Luna was a jerk to us! Remember when she duct tape me and Teeth to the wall!” said Liam. 

“Don’t remind me” groans Teeth. Their mother laughs. 

“Oh! I remember, Gerald still has the photo of it” replied Tina. 

“He took a picture of it?!” yelled both the doc and his brother. 

“Yep” she replied. 

Soon, the food was done and everyone had a plate of good food. “This is fantastic!” said Nora before taking another bite of some good homemade gumbo. Gerald smiles, he likes that everyone is enjoying his and Luna’s cooking. 

“It’s like heaven is in my mouth!” said Lewis with a huge smile on his face. 

“Agree” replied the good doctor. 

After everyone has eaten, Gerald and Luna clean the dishes and put them up before getting ready to leave. Everyone was out front waving and saying goodbye. 

“Goodbye, mama and daddy,” said Dr. Teeth. 

“Goodbye, Junior.” replied Tina as she gave him a hug. 

“Oh! Mama and daddy, if you want to see me and my band perform, go to the Hollywood Bowl” said Junior. 

“Okay Junior, we will” replied his mother before they left. 

Teeth smile. This was the best day in his life. He turns to his bandmates and friends and smiles. They all turn in for the night. 

In the morning, the band were making some song ideas. Nora was looking at a board with some song ideas. Animal was drumming while the good doctor watched with a proud smile. 

“Yeah. What is that? Is it a C?” asked Floyd to Janice who was playing with her guitar. He was writing down the notes in a notebook. The blonde female nodded her head. Zoot and Lips were playing their instruments. 

“Take it up there. Put it on the board” said the red haired male as he handed a paper to the good doctor. 

“The Muppets will know that, too” mumbles Lips. 

“Another one done, and it’s a beauty” said Teeth to Nora as he hands her the paper. 

“Wow! Six songs in six days. You guys are on fire” replied the black haired female with a smile. She put the paper on the board with the rest. 

“Oh, it wouldn’t be possible without you, Labels” replied the ginger haired male. 

“First, you helped us break through our writer’s block, and then you untangled my twisted familial convictions, as they say.” he added with a smile. 

“I’m just glad that at the end of the day, Your parents were able to embrace your dream, instead of theirs.” replied Label Lady. 

“Thank you” replied Dr. Teeth with a soft smile. 

Later that night, Nora was at the dinner table. She was eating some cereal while looking at her phone. Moog walks into the room. 

“Okay, I need to get some sleep, because that band really does know how to rock and roll all night,” he said. The sound of the band playing down in the basement can be heard from the shut door. 

“And “part of every day” Which are the lyrics, FYI” replied the black haired female with a smile. The black haired male just nodded his head. He noticed a tattoo on her collar bone that connects to her shoulder. 

“Wait, I never noticed that tattoo,” said Moog. The tattoo said “One Love” in cursive. 

“Oh yeah” replied Nora. 

“One love,” huh?” he said as he looked at it. She nods her head. 

“Lifelong Bob Marley fan,” Label Lady said. 

“You don’t say” replied Moog as he pulled up his shirt sleeve to reveal his tattoo. His tattoo said “One Heart” with a heart as the A. 

“No way!” replied Nora in shock. She also had a huge smile on her face. 

“It’s crazy, right? What are the chances?” he replied. 

“You know, I guess it’s kinda like Teeth and Floyd,” she replied. 

“You know, sometimes, music just brings the right two people together,” Nora added. 

“Yeah. It’s destiny” Moog replied with a soft smile. 

“I’ll, um, see you tomorrow.” he added. 

“Yeah, night” the black haired female replied. Moog walks by with a soft chuckle. He stops when he spots Animal sleeping on a blue bean bag with white stars on it. 

“Nora” said the drummer in his sleep. The black haired male looks back at Nora. “Nora,” he said under his breath with a smile. 

[bulletblade]

WARNING: This story contains content such as Mental Health Struggles. Reader discretion is advised.

Assist Chapter 1, Up in the Air:

When most super heroes first hit the scene,  you expect their origin, how they got powers, and what made them become a hero. Some of that story won't ever be told in any official capacity. However, Assist's motives weren't out of tragedy but of obligation, an obligation to help others and set an example for the potential heroes that would inevitably follow. He had this duty as the first hero and it's best to start at his first appearance to the public of his world.

03/21/20XX Homcity, Ohio 12pm

Giovanni Stone was an awkward white man in his 20's standing at 6 '2'' wearing a pair of jeans, tennis shoes, a blue long sleeve shirt, a pair of goggles as a type of ski mask to conceal his brown hair and lower half of his face. He was revving himself up for the flight that would define the future beside his window in a decently sized apartment, his dog was looking at him. She was a small dog breed that kind of resembled a mogwai only with smaller eyes, ears and was a dog. He breathed in and out, "All right, here's to hoping this goes well in the end." He leaps out and shoots himself into the sky, gliding himself around buildings, feeling the air against his face coverings. Once he gets a handle on his flying out in the expansive sky, he soars to the highest building he can find.

As he glances over the place, looking for his first act of heroism, he considers all of his options. Due to the fact his suit isn't flame resistant and his sole ability is flight, his options are just saving some free falling civilians from painting the pavement or a cat stuck in a tree. He starts to ponder if he's gonna be here all day. He sits atop the building he found, the headquarters for "B&S Insurance." He notices a window cleaner looking up at our hero with a mixture of awe and dread on their face. "Are you for real," the cleaner asks. Giovanni sighs, "Yep."

Cleaner: So you can fly, that'd be convenient for my line of work

Giovanni: So long as you don't get shot down and get experimented on.

Cleaner: Fair, but I'm pretty sure there are gonna be like you Mis…er…um…

Giovanni/Assist: Mister and Assist is fine.

Cleaner: Bit generic, ain't it?

Assist: Well, when you're the first super-powered being, you gotta make it clear what your intentions are and set an example for others.

Assist notices the low quality of the support system of the cleaner. "Feel like you might be my first rescue." The cleaner chuckles, "Yeah, luckily I'm optimistic, this old girl has supported me for ages, she ain't gonna give out on me so easily." The cleaner slaps one of the chains, which almost instantly gives out instantly. The support tilts and the cleaner almost falls out, but was able to grab onto the rail. Assist tries to reach out and save him but the rail breaks off and the cleaner goes into free-fall. Assist grimaced at the thought of the cleaner's death before remembering he can fly. He zooms toward the cleaner and grabs their leg, Assist then uses his slightly below average strength to slow down their descent clearly struggling with his strength and stamina. However, Assist was able to completely stop their descent and the cleaner unclenched their eyes and saw that the ground was half a foot away from his face. The cleaner sighs with relief before landing his face on the ground, due to Assist's grip giving out. The cleaner gets up with a slightly scratched up face while Assist floats down. He asks, panicked and winded, if the cleaner is ok. Though in shock, the cleaner nods. Assist sighs with relief before shoving the cleaner off into the crowd that had suddenly formed around them.

Cleaner: What was that for?

Assist then quickly to get to the support and grabs the most stable part of it as the last chain breaks. The support rushes straight downward as Assist begins to slow it down. It then crawls to a stop, inches away from the ground

Assist: Is everyone ok?

One of the bystanders grabs another who was crouched at the place it would fall over and tugs him into the crowd.

Bystander: You're good

Assist: (mutters)...oh thank God.

The support falls and Assist lays on top of it, heavily breathing. The crowd cheers and Assist tries to get up but falls on his rear, he calls out, "Looks like the day has been saved by Assist, now if you excuse me, I'm gonna take a nap." He tries to fly off but falls on top of a flower shop parallel to the insurance building. "Ow," mutters Assist.

03/21/20XX 4pm

"...king about," Giovanni looks around, he was in his living room staring at the front door of his apartment, unsure of his current situation. The last thing he remembers is saving a window cleaner and passing out, he thought he imagined it but it seemed real. His dog was looking just as confused as he was. He picked up his phone and saw a news article about Assist. He opens up a video about the topic.

Reporter: "...that's right, we've gotten several reports of a superhero named Assist, who saved a window cleaner and several bystanders and then was reportedly kidnapped. Many bystanders reported one of them saw Assist being carried away by a female but when asked further questions the bystander seemed lost as if the thought slipped their mind. The witness was handed over to the police to check on their mental health. This event raises many questions like 'Who is Assist', 'Where did he go', and 'who was his captor'. I've been your repor…"

Giovanni turns off his phone with more questions than answers. He then decides to change his outfit and head to bed to clear his mind.

03/21/20XX 5pm

Giovanni wakes up to a young boy crying out for his mother. He puts his glasses on and rushes out of his apartment to see his neighbors, a young boy crying with his father staring into their apartment. Assist peers into their apartment and begin to call the police as the mother of the boy, was up in the air.

[t-o-m-hollands]

Summary: It’s the late summer of 2004. You are set to travel across the country for university and your best friend Tom is staying behind. You spend your last night together before you leave. 

Themes: Friends to lovers, love confessions, first love. 

Warnings: Drinking beer. One mention of smoking weed. Mentions of parents fighting and also implied neglectful parents. Smut (+18), two spanks?? otherwise pretty tame.  

Word count: 3,4 k

Notes: I don’t know, this might be a bit different? Or it might just feel that way to me. It’s very reminiscent of teenage years and first love and nostalgia. Please let me know your thoughts, I’m genuinely not sure what to think about this one. 

Massive thank you to @augustholland​ who read through it and very kindly reassured me that it wasn’t bad 💖

Also, this fic was inspired by the Phoebe Bridgers song. I’ve never actually listened to it but it keeps showing up in my recommendation and i like the title of it so this is what i imagine that song is about. Mostly I listened to Harry Styles - Fine Line while writing this.

You finish up early that afternoon. Wayne, your old boss, tries not to cry as he hugs you goodbye. He tells you to take care in a gravelly voice close to breaking, as he avoids looking at you. It’s your last shift in the greasy bar, where for the last two years you’ve been selling cheap beer and watered down whiskey to weary old men and rowdy students who come in for a game of pool. It hasn’t paid much, just a few pounds an hour; just enough so that on each thursday you and Tom have enough money for movie tickets at the local cinema. It’s your tradition. Like a religious man goes to church each sunday; you spend your thursday nights with Tom’s arm slung around your shoulders, watching whatever new film they have on, sharing a bowl of popcorn between you. Afterwards you'll have burgers at the fast food joint across the street; talking about the movie long into the night, sharing a bag of fries. 

When you were younger and hadn’t been able to afford to pay Tom had sneaked you both into the cinema anyway.  Your hand in his, he had led the way into the movie theatre when no one was looking. Sitting in the back row he’d sneak you Fruit Polos to snack on, his arm slung around your shoulders, as you watched movies you were way too young for.

Last week was your final movie screening; some light-hearted American comedy, and the entire way through it you fought the lump in your throat, forcing yourself not to cry. Tom hadn’t laughed either; had just held you closer than usual. 

Tomorrow you are set to leave the small seaside town behind you, the place where you have spent most of your life, for a drive all across the country; to start university in a city you’ve only visited once before. You’re not sure when you’ll return.

Thus lately everything has been laced with goodbyes; childhood having reached its end.

Just two days ago there had been the last bonfire where you had watched the Holland boys fight each other while playing football as his parents looked on and laughed, grilling sausages over the open fire. 

It was on the same rocky beach where you have spent many summer days; grilling food on the open fire and throwing back cheap beer with your friends from school. You have scraped your knees on these rocks, burned your skin from both the bonfire and the sun there; have had your heart broken over and over and over again during your school years as you watched Tom kiss whatever girl he was dating at the time by the fire during summer night parties.

Maybe you had broken his heart a few times as well. 

As the afternoon light turns everything golden you drive through the main street in the small town where  everyone knows everybody, and has done for generations. You watch the people as you drive them by. You know everyone’s name, know each crack in the pavement; can find your way home in the dark. 

God knows how many shoes you’ve worn out over the years walking down these streets. 

The radio plays a blink-182 song you know by heart as you follow the road out of the city, through the woods and up to the coast. At the end of a muddy track, on the border to the forest, stands a shabby old caravan. It faces the beach and above the door christmas lights are lit up all year round. 

The Holland family legend says that Tom’s great uncle had won the small patch of land in a bet. Unable to build a large house he had bought a caravan and put it on the lot. The old man had lived in the Shed for the rest of his lifetime, before passing it on to Tom; the youngster of the family, his younger brothers having yet to be born. When he had turned seventeen he moved out of his parents larger, more comfortable house, and into the Shed. His mother had agreed on it on the condition he took on the apprenticeship to become a carpenter that he had been offered. 

You remember when he had told you of his decided future, one late evening as you sat on the driftwood by the beach, smoking weed and watching the sun set over the horizon. It had felt right somehow, you had been able to  imagine him working with his hands, skillfully forming and bending wood to his will; his long and slender fingers knowing just how to fix things. Tom has always been good at mending things. It had been three years now and he was a full time employee at the JBT Carpentry Services. He says it doesn’t pay much, but he’s happy; and that's all that matters.

As you park the car outside the Shed Tom comes out. Standing under the colorful christmas lights he grins widely as he sees you, his eyes crinkling at the sides. The most genuine smile you know. He’s tanned from a summer spent on the beach, his hair a wavy mess; as if he’d just woken up from sleep. It’s a warm august day and the world seems sunbleached somehow; but in the afternoon light Tom looks golden. 

You are painfully aware that it is the last time you’ll see him like this for many months to come.

Walking up to him and he gives you a bear-hug; his warm, hard body pressed against yours, holding onto you tightly. With your face in the crook of his neck you breathe him in and discover that a faint trace of bonfire smoke still lingers on his skin. It all feels achingly familiar and safe. So heartrendingly unlike the uncertain life at university that lies in front of you.

Tom is your safe place.

Your parents had always fought like cat and dog and sometimes when you were younger and  they’d argue you’d climb through your window and walk all the way over to the Holland household. You were always welcomed there and his parents didn’t ask any questions, no matter how late the hour; instead they fed you, treating you like a member of the family around the dining table with gentle teasing and reminders of homework that needed to be done, letting you sleep over when needed. No questions asked. 

With the years the fighting at home got worse. When Tom fixed himself a beat-up old Land Rover and moved out to the Shed you’d call him from the payphone down the road. He’d always answer, telling you to pack up; and that he was on his way. He’d pick you up by the end of the street, a duffle bag with schoolbooks and a change of clothes slung over your shoulder. He’d take you back to his place to sleep. His caravan only had one bed, so you used to curl up next to each other in bed. On the nights when you were crying he’d hold you, and in the morning he’d make you breakfast before you both went off to school. 

Your parents never noticed your temporary absence. 

Tom lets go of the hug, but with an arm around your waist he leads you into his home. There’s a lingering scent of fried food in the air and the boombox is playing the 3 Doors down CD he’s been obsessed with since you bought it for his birthday. You tread the cherry wood veneered flooring with your battered tennis shoes, feeling more at home here than anywhere else on earth.

 “Fancy a beer?” Tom asks, leading the way to the kitchen area. “Warn you though, it's warm. Just got back from the store so they haven’t had time to cool”.

Everything is warm today, and the caravan is no exception. The ancient AC had given in years ago and Tom could never afford having it fixed. You heave yourself up on the countertop, replying a simple “sure” to his question. 

He opens a Stella and hands it to you. He isn’t wrong, the beer is tepid. Yet you drown half the bottle in one big swig; happy just to have something to do with your hands when he’s standing so close to you. Gulping down on the liquid and you cannot help but notice Tom’s eyes on your throat as you swallow. He opens a bottle for himself and takes a swig. 

You smile at the ancient gray t-shirt he’s wearing. At one point there had been a band logo on it, but it has long since been washed out. He notices you smiling at him and as if it's infectious a smile broadens on his face as well. “What?” he asks, leaning against the small counter across from you.

“Nothing” you say, smiling wider. “Just wondered how many times I’ve seen you in that shirt. I mean, it has to be near a couple of thousand times by now”.

“You don't exactly love buying new clothes either” he says, a teasing smile playing at his lips as he looks at your washed out jeans shorts. “I know for a fact that those aren’t new, darling”. His eyes linger on your legs for a moment too long before he looks away, taking a swig from his beer. 

“So, when are you leaving?” He asks, and you can tell that he’s trying to sound relaxed, but leaned against the countertop, his arms crossed in front of him, head bowed; holding onto the bottle of Stella he’s nursing with a tight grip. He looks tense and on edge. 

“Tomorrow morning”

He takes a swig from his beer. There’s nothing more to say, not really. Everything that happens now is just aftermath; you might as well have already left. 

“I’m nervous” you admit, biting your lip, trying hard not to et out the tears you’ve been holding in for days now; embarrassed that your voice trembles on the last word. 

His head snaps up to look at you. Pushing off the counter he takes a step forward, placing himself in between your legs. 

“Hey” he says, with a voice a low and gentle as a whisper, his hand cupping your cheek. You look up at him; long dark eyelashes framing his beautiful brown eyes, his thin lips slightly parted and across his nose freckles are spread out, the result from a summer spent in the sun. His calloused hand strokes your cheek. “You’re going to take them by storm, Pebbles”.

You smile, despite your fluttering heart. He hasn’t called you Pebbles for a long time. It had been his nickname for you when you first became friends, the reason behind it long forgotten. He was the only one to ever call you it, and the name had lingered long into your late teenage years. 

“You took me by storm,” he admits. 

You blink up at him through wet eyelashes. Your family had moved to the town when you were ten years old. This was the kind of small town that strangers seldom came to and inhabitants rarely left; and so the new addition to the small local school had everyone talking. You had felt like an astronaut shuffled into space on your first day, trying to find gravity in the unfamiliar school corridors. You had felt the pull of gravity in form of the brown-eyed boy sitting next to you in english class. He had given you a warm smile as you sat down next to him. He had made you his friend, listened to you and confided in you; had made you laugh until your stomach ached. You found further gravity in his home; surrounded by his family and their endless squabbles and laughter, sitting next to Tom at the dinner table.

It hadn’t taken long before you and Tom were an inseparable item; your names always linked to one another in the mouths of others. 

“You’ve worked so hard for this scholarship” he says, and the corners of his mouth tugs up into a smile, “I mean, I’m pretty certain you’re the only reason I even finished school”.

You had helped him write most of his essays at school. He’d struggled with reading a lot and found the assigned novels difficult. There were evenings where you’d spend hours laying on the bed; twisting the phone cord between your fingers, as you read the books out loud for him. 

Sometimes, in order to be left alone from his parents and younger brothers, he’d walk down to the end of the street and to the payphone there, where he’d spend all his pennies listening to you reading. You had talked and talked until your voice got hoarse; until he ran out of pennies. Yet when he hung up you always felt a tug of longing in your chest, knowing you wouldn’t be able to see him until the next day in school. 

“Well,  I heard you’re doing pretty good as a carpenter” you say, smiling up at him. “I always knew you’d be good with your hands”. 

As soon as you’ve said it you can feel your face heat up. You had heard the rumours at school; Tom Holland is a stellar fuck. Once, while you were in the bathroom stall, you had heard a gang of girls discuss it as they reapplied their lipgloss in the mirror. One of them told the story of her one night stand with Tom, how he had made her come several times over with his hands and mouth; how he’d fucked her so long and so good. You had stood in the stall, your heart in your throat; feeling sick to your stomach, but unable to stop listening.

There were girls that reached out to you in school, knowing you were Tom’s closest friend, and asked you in hushed but awed voices if it was true. If he really that good in bed.

He looks you dead in the eye, an unusual seriousness to his warm eyes. He knows what you’re thinking, knows what thoughts have made your cheeks flush with colour. Letting go of your cheek he places his arms on either side of you on the counter; caging you in. 

“There’s never been anyone but you, Pebbles. Not really.” His tone is heavy with meaning and you feel light-headed; both oddly detached from your own body and painfully aware of the closeness of his. Your heart is beating hard in your chest. 

This is a line you’ve never crossed before. 

“I know I’m ruining everything by saying this, but you’re leaving tomorrow and I’ve been walking around with this secret lodged in my chest like a bullet since i was ten years old; I love you, Pebbles. I’ve always have”.

You should speak. You should tell him that you’ve known for a long time how he’s felt. That it’s been evident in the way his eyes keep lingering on your legs, in the way his arm usually finds its way to rest around your waist. In the way he’s always been there for you. You should tell him that you understand why he hasn’t been able to voice his feelings for you; because you haven’t done it either. Too scared of losing him. But your breath has caught in your throat and all you can focus on is those caramel eyes on you, and how hard your heart is beating in your chest.

“I love you too” you say, voice hardly louder than a whisper. You swear there was music coming from the boom box but all you can hear is the blood rushing through your body. 

He kisses you.

He takes your mouth slowly, kissing you thoroughly until you can’t think straight; can’t remember any other kiss than his. Then his lips move over yours with more fervour; more urgency, one hand around your throat and the other tangled in your hair. He kisses you until you're both moaning and gasping for more. 

This is it. You’ve crossed the invisible line between friends and lovers; and there is no return, no going back from here. When you leave tomorrow you will leave knowing what his mouth feels like pressed against your.

You dig your hands into his soft hair, runs them both up his chest, realising that this is what your hands were made for. He lifts you off the counter and you wrap your legs around his waist. He moves you both across the caravan and into the bedroom. It’s baking hot in there and you can already feel sweat forming at the low end of your back. The room, just big enough for a bed to fit, is lit up with sunlight. His bed is a mess of rumpled white sheets and the walls are the same cherry wood colour as the rest of the caravan. 

You kiss and lick his jaw, his neck, his throat; anywhere you can reach you stroke him. You tug at his hair, kiss his soft lips, and nib at his ear. It’s like the gates have been opened, because even though his arm has always been a comforting presence around your waist; and even though you’ve slept in the same bed more times than you can count, his body curled up next to yours, forming himself like a question mark around your body; he’s never been yours to touch before. Not like this.

His breathing is accelerated, his chest rising and falling in rapid speed, and so is yours. There’s a heat to his eyes that tells you he’s just as turned on as you are. You pull at his shirt before he’s even laid you down on the bed; impatiently craving all his warm, suntanned skin pressed against yours. It’s an almost feverish frenzy, and in the back of your mind you know that you should take this slow. You don’t want this to end too soon, because this might be all you get. But the sun hasn’t even set yet and through the old white-washed curtains you helped put up and light shines through, bathing you both sunshine. 

Outside the waves keep crashing against the shore and in the kitchen his boombox keeps playing songs you’ve heard a million times before. It is like it always has been at Tom’s, except that for laying on his sofa and talking he’s removing your clothes; kissing his way down your body. Wet, opened mouth kisses that leave a trail of heat in its wake that have you bucking your hips up for more. His hands are everywhere, exploring your legs. He’s looking at your skin with wide-eyes adoration. With his body in between your wide spread legs he kisses the soft inside of your thighs. 

“So soft” he groans against your skin, “and so sweet”.

You feel overheated and breathless; aching all over from wanting him. Perched up on your elbows you observe him; his dark hair brushing against the low of your stomach as he kisses the tender skin of your hip bone. He bares his teeth and bites the sensitive flesh. 

His hand cups your cunt. You’re wet and aching and as you presses his thumb to your clit, gently but steadily moving up and down, you feel like you’re going to combust. His strokes are soft at first, before speeding up, making you moan wantonly, spreading your legs wider for him.

“Glad you like that,” he says, a satisfied smile spreading on his face. “Do my fingers feel good on you, darling?”

All you can do is moan in response, arching and moving your hips up to meet his hand. His movements are fast and slippery and it doesn’t take long until your close, so close, so close; on the brink of tipping over and then - 

A sharp slap on your pussy, leaving a stinging bite, and it is like the world splits into two. 

“God” you moan, voice hoarse. You’re shuddering all over; moanes falling freely from your lips. 

He looks up at you from his position in between your legs, his dark eyes sparkling. He kisses the soft inside of your thighs again. “You have any idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you here?” he asks. “I bet you do, torturing me for fun in those short jeans shorts”. He spanks your pussy again and you couldn’t have stopped the moan falling from your lips even if you tried. “How long I’ve wanted to taste you here?”. And he places a hot kiss on your wet slit. You can feel his soft hair pressed against your thighs; his warm breath against your skin.

His lips part and he covers you with his mouth, his tongue moving over your opening; touching you, stroking you, tasting you. A guttural moan leaves him. He looks up at you through tassels of hair, caramel eyes glued to your face.

You fall back against the mattress, “more” you demand, in a voice that sounds a lot like begging. “Please, more”.

It is as if he’s been unleashed. You have never felt anything like it, but he laps you up, tastes you; his fingers moving inside you; pressing against the place that has you seeing stars. You can’t even look at him now, you’re eyes shut; too overwhelmed by the stimulation. Both aching for more but not sure if your body can handle that kind of pleasure. Your thighs are shaking, and something in your stomach grows tighter and tighter by each flick of his tongue against your clit.

“I’m coming” you cry out breathlessly “fuck I’m coming”

And you do. Hard. He keeps kissing and touching you through it; both grounding you and dragging out the intense sensation. 

His hands, now familiar with your thighs, make their way up to the soft swell of your breasts, as you struggle to regain your breath. He’s cupping them in his hands, pinching your nipples in between his fingers, kissing them with ferveor. Hungry hands move over your breasts, your stomach, your face; cupping it so that he can kiss you with the sort of yearning that comes from years of unanswered desire. 

Your hands move over his body as well, moving over his abdomen chest and arms, defined from long hours of hard work. You kiss his throat and collarbones, kissing at the skin; licking, sucking and biting until you hear guttural moans coming from his throat. His lips are slightly parted, and his glossy dark eyes are fixed on your face; his fingers loosely tangled in your hair. 

He presses you down onto the mattress again, until he’s face to face; his arms on each side of your face, holding himself over you.

“You sure?” he asks, voice hoarse, panting slightly. 

“I want this” you answer him, voice low but clear, “I really, really want this Tom”

He smiles, breathing out the breath he’d been holding and moves away from you, reaching for the side of his bed and to take out a condom from the drawer. 

He places a quick kiss to your lips, your cheek, your belly button, before he sits up. He removes his underwear and you can feel your face heat up again. Because this is Tom, your Tom, whom you’ve been in love with for half your life. But being with him, both naked as the day you were born, feels right. You know everything about this man, all his preferences and secrets; his favourite movie and how he likes his food and why he skipped class every day for a month in year nine. And he knows everything about you. It feels right that he should know this as well; know each curve of your body and the way you like to be kissed and what has you moaning and begging for more. 

He unwraps the foil package and puts the condom on with firm fingers. Leaning over you again he lines up against your opening. His eyes glossy with lust, damp hair falling over his face; his mouth swollen and wet from kissing you.

Then with a sharp thrust and a groan he’s inside you. 

All coherent thoughts go out the window as he starts moving in and out of you. The only thing that exists is his strong, sweaty body above you, moving in and out of you with slow, deep thrusts. He’s so hard where you are soft and you can’t stop touching him, dragging your fingers over his back, pulling at his hair, kissing his arms. It’s like the wires in your brain have crossed, sending out sparks of pure pleasure in your body. 

He hits a particularly tender spot inside you and the groan that leaves you is almost animalistic.

Tom nearly halters in his pace, before collecting himself again. “Fuck” he moans out, kissing your neck. His movements become more frenzied and you roll your hips under him, meeting his movements; trying to get him deeper inside you. 

He pushes himself up onto his hands, pulls back slightly; and pushes in. Starting to really fuck you. 

You can’t stop looking up at him; naked body damp with sweat, muscles moving as he works; arms flexed and cheeks flushed. His eyes are closed pleasure now. Your hands are on his hips helping him set the pace as he fucks into you with fast, hard thrusts. Without warning you clutch around him in pleasure and he groans loudly.

“How the fuck does your cunt feel better than it tastes?” he asks, panting for air. “

He presses a hand over your heart, letting it rest there. You wonder if he can feel it pounding for him. You feel like you’re dissolving into a thousand tiny pieces as you come around him with a choked scream. 

He’s so close and you can practically feel it; aching for him to have it. You want him to come; in you, on you, over you. 

And then he does, his brows furrows; like the pleasure is so intense it hurts him. The sounds he makes when he comes are guttural; almost whimpering. 

As he falls down on the bed beside you he pulls you close, has you pressed against his body, an arm firmly wrapped around you. The sun has set now, but the ocean waves still crash onto the shore, the sound of it the only thing to fill the silence part from your laboured breathing; the music having gone quiet in the other room. 

Neither one of you say anything. You knew the end to this when he kissed you. You’ve regretted nothing that has happened here, and you know that he doesn’t either; but tomorrow you are leaving to drive all the way across the country and he cannot follow. You don’t know what will happen now, and he doesn't have the answer to that either. And so you just let him hold you; wishing with all your might that you could stop the morning from coming.

***

Please let me know your thoughts, genuinely don’t know what to make of this one. 

[writtenonthesubwaywalls]

Don’t Throw Out My Legos: World’s Smallest Violin

Tropes: banter, old friends/old rivals

TWs: mental health and social media mention

Part Two (<<prev : next>>)

A few minutes after he woke up the first time he realized he couldn't fall back asleep. Sometimes, when the body wants to be awake, that's all you can do about it. So, Alfred got out of bed, pulled on a shirt that had been laying on the floor, and made his way quietly into the kitchen without turning on any of the lights. He poured himself a cup of leftover coffee and leaned against the counter, considering whether to go on a run this morning, or just walk to and from the corner store instead. Either would be about the same, he supposed, but walking would save gas. And it's nice out this morning, so that would be a bonus. Maybe his house guest would be gone by the time he got back.

The American didn't bother getting dressed for a trip to get gas station groceries- even forgoing socks in his tennis shoes, which he cursed himself for every step of the way. While there he made sure to say hi to Sam, the woman who owned the corner store and ran it about by herself, and slip her cat a piece of pepperoni from his pack in secret. "Come on, its for protection," he said when she called him out on it, "I can't have him turn on me now can I?"

On the walk back it started to rain, and the grey rainwater in the dirty city streets splashed into his un-insulated shoes and made him at least a pound heavier the entire way. By the time he made it back to his doorway, his clothes stuck to his skin and made him feel like an undercooked dumpling. He came into the dry house, peeled off most of his clothes, and left them in a crumpled pile to drain into a puddle next to the door. He started to head back to his room and about tripped on his companion sitting on the living room floor. "What in the holy god damn- why are you just sitting on the floor? There's three perfectly good couches in here that I paid good money for."

"I'm looking at your reconstruction," Ivan said evenly. "Why are you building one this way? Wouldn't it be more accurate to use real building materials? Or even just a more accurate model kit?"

Alfred didn't know how to explain that the point was that it was an easy medium to build through. He also didn't know how to explain that he wasn't building it because it was a model of the Coliseum, he was building it because he needed something to completely encompass his entire attention so he stops thinking about everything all the time and- "Maybe I just like toys." He definitely did know how to be defensive. The other man quickly glanced his way out of the corner of his eye, but paid him little mind. Used to it, probably, he thought. "It's not actually about the Coliseum, it's more the fact that it's the new biggest Lego set, and I thought that it would be fun to build. I'll probably put it on display somewhere in one of my houses or donate it to some local library or what have you when I'm done. Y'know, that sort of thing. Philanthropy or whatever the fuck."

Ivan nodded through his little spiel. To give him credit, he did listen whenever Alfred talked, even if it was about nothing, or something horribly, terribly stupid or inane. Probably to use against him later. "I have read that people require proper enrichment in the same way that animals in zoos might." He left the sentence there.

"And?"

"And what?"

Alfred looked at him with his arms crossed. "That statement was obviously a set up for something else. What about enrichment?"

"Nothing in particular. I had just figured that this would be the same for you, would it not? An enrichment exercise?"

"Are you insulting me?"

"Not this time."

Alfred thought, then nodded. "It is enrichment for me I think. Like how some animals will start rubbing their fur off or something like that but like, mentally or whatever, Maybe it is enrichment." He paused. "Where did you read that?"

"Twitter, I believe. Some kind of study or article that people really liked. I'm surprised you did not come across it."

He shrugged self consciously, and his crossed arms turned into a self-hug without him really noticing. "I kind of try to stay away from things like that," he said, "It gets to be too much for me and I kinda clock out after a bit so I just. I just stopped making myself go into those kinds of situations."

Things were quiet for a while, that was both too short and excruciatingly long. "Did I put you into one of those positions? Is that why you were gone this morning?"

This question wouldn't have stopped him like it did if Ivan hadn't still been sitting on the floor, faced away from him. It felt vulnerable. "No," he breathed, almost to himself. "No, you didn't. I don't think you have in decades." It was in these moments he realized he was still holding a bag of groceries on his wrist, cutting off circulation into his hand and starting to sting. He uncrossed his arms and held his hands at his sides, the plastic shuffling of the bag cutting into the genuineness of the moment. "Anyway I bought some things to make a real breakfast so if you want to eat you'll have to get up off the floor and come to the kitchen."

Obligingly the Russian stood and gestured to the kitchen area, the transition changing the mood entirely and relieving the weight that had been building on Alfred's shoulders that entire talk.

--

About an hour and a change of clothes later, the two sat at his small kitchen bar with an amount of pancakes, thick and fluffy, and eggs in front of them. Not the most extravagant meal he's ever prepared for someone, but vastly better than what he'd recently been doing for himself in the mornings. They ate in mostly one-sided conversation- both preferred it this way. Then, at some point in the morning, the rain turned to a storm, and wind bashed the branches of the only tree on the block into the side of the house, scratching at the siding and the windows of the second story, which echoed through the whole house. The sound was like creatures trying to claw their way out of the walls, and it made Alfred shiver. Something about his dreams tugged at the back of his thoughts, but he forced it back. Something for his subconscious to deal with later.

"You seem unwell," his partner commented, picking up their plates and setting them into the sink to be done later. "Did you eat too much? I did not think that was possible for you."

"Yeah, haha, very funny," he said sarcastically, but his heart wasn't in it. "I'm just listening to the storm. I don't want to have to replace any shingles again because of that god forsaken tree."

"Could you not remove the tree?" He refilled Alfred coffee; Ivan brewed new while he was out and it was a little too strong for his liking, but coffee is coffee.

"I could, but I don't have the heart. It's the only tree around here and its a fun hangout spot for some of the younger kids when they get off the bus in the afternoons. I can't just, get rid of it." He didn't want to say that it's the only living thing he interacts with regularly. He didn't want to say that the only reason he goes outside half the days is to talk to the tree so it doesn't get lonely.

"That is respectable. Even if it is part of your 'philanthropy or whatever'." He smiled, leaning forward enough to rest his elbows on the counter and sip from his cup. Alfred was going to stand, or lean forward, or leave, but he stayed right where he was, cup in hand, thinking about how his hands were long and slim and the other's were rough from wear and made to work.

Maybe the secret to life is in the hands.

"If you say so."

[tr4nsi3ntgh0ul]

dream

I had a horrible dream last night. It started out as me being a young dark skinned boy, going tto meet my friend-as it was his birthday. The trip there was weird, everything looked weird and colorful. I went on a tram that had multiple levels, and looked like a casino from the inside. When i got there, i saw he lived in a tall building. There were three boys at home- my friend and two others. At first we got along well, but then the other boys started bullying me. I wasnt afraid of them, and i tried to intimidate them, but they grew more and more agressive. They started beating me up, really badly-i got scared and i (stabbed?) one of them. I cant remember more details. In my dream i got scared and ran away to the lift, but i heard the yelling of my friends mother- i broke something pricey, and she was furious, she was running after me with a shoe in her hand. She got into the lift with me and started beating me up. Again i was overpowered and beaten, but somehow i got ontop of her. As the lift descended, the doors suddenly opened, and her head got stuck between the floors-and she died. I killed another person. I was shaken after these things, and started going home-to my dorm. I was “myself” again-me being a woman. As i was walking home i saw a huge red field a few hundred meters away from the tall building of my dorm. It was a  bright red and had a rubbery texture, a woman was walking around and putting up table tennis boards. The whole field was lit up by small garden lights. I went further to the building and saw a man dressed in a white suit that had silky white patterns on it. He was wearing a purple tie-or dress shirt . He looked very anxious, and asked me if i could help him. I listened to him. He told me he was about to meet his girlfriend, but he was scared she wouldnt like his outfit. I reassured him that he looked nice, and i would be happy to have a bf like him. I walked into the dorm building. It was a lot bigger then irl, and more colorful. It was really tall, and had a huge lift. I went into the lift, but instead of pushing the 6th floor button; i pushed the 10th floor. When i got out of the lift the hall was too narrow-it felt uncomfortable. It was also very colorful. There were three girls in traditional hungarian clothes dancing by me. They were only a flash of color. I looked the other way, and the corridor was long and dark-afar i could only see another girl in traditional clothes, but she looked creepy-like a bug (from mimic). I hurried into a room, and i found a friend from high school. She is usually a very strict and conservative, clean person; yet in my dreams she was dirty and creepy. Her room was a mess-she told me her bf broke up with her, and she tried keeping a pet cat in the dorm, but as it is illeagal, they took the cat away from her. i was very uncomfortable staying with her, and i tried to make her feel better, but i left with my old clothes she told me to take with me. While i was going to my room, i met some boys who are my bf’s friends. Together we enterred my room with the bags full of clothes. In the room was my “roommate”-a friend from university. He was watching something on his computer and he looked really serious. I went over to greet him, but when i looked at his screen, i saw that he was watching a weird medieval porno video. I tried to joke about it, but felt really weird, so i left with the other guys. We were walking down a wide street when i met my bf and his mother. We were all laughing and hangin out, when a weird scater came along. He was riding his board while being on his stomach, and he was pushing himself foward with his hands. I was really creeped out. My bfs mother wasnt angry, but she told him (and the other scaters around), to be more careful, cause they might run over a pedestrian accidentally. The situation grew more uneasy when people from both sides started shouting, clapping and booing at each other- while i was in the middle of it, quiet. The situation escalated, when we met a dark skinned woman on the street, who shouted something to my bfs mother. To this, my bf pushed the other woman to the floor and started shouting as well. I was very scared at this point. The womans husband came over nd threatened to beat us up, but somehow my bf made peace with him, while his mother was crying on my shoulder. After these events, i woke up

[baus-designated-dad]

SSA Agent Amy Heart was 23 years old and had only been at the BAU for a few months. She just moved to Virginia about a year ago and went into the academy for about 2 months before unit Chief Jason Gideon and SSA Agent Aaron Hotchner requested her to join them. She was a very bright and a very vicious girl. It was around 2 Am on a Saturday when Media Liaison Jennifer Jareau called her in for a case. She got up and did some very minimal makeup and threw on her Sperry Sliders. She got her go bag ready by throwing in her underwear, extra underwear, pants, shorts, normal t-shirts, two pairs of boots, a pair of tennis shoes, athletic socks, normal socks, feminine hygiene products, tooth paste and a couple of toothbrushes. She adds deodorant, and a watch. She packs normal bras, athletic/sleep bras, volleyball shorts, and some old t-shorts and tank tops for sleeping. She slips in her black cat earrings, her class ring, her Fitbit, and checks for her lucky necklace. She zips up her bag and puts on a FBI baseball cap pulling her hair threw and gets to her car in her pajamas. She drives to the headquarters and parks and locks her car. She had a cup of coffee in her hands and takes a seat dropping her to go bag putting her legs on the table and leaning back. “So I assume this case is rather important for me to get a wake up call.” She drawls out her really southern accent slipping through. Of course the team hadn’t seen all of her tattoos.

@baus-designated-dad

"I mean yes it's a pretty big one excuse me are you wearing pajamas? I mean actually I don't mind you wearing shorts and even a tank top as long as you act professional. But maybe pajamas are a little much I mean I'm open for you to try it I'll base it off of how you act out in the field."Aaron smiles a little bit

Jason chuckles and raises an eyebrow at Amy's choice of clothing. But says nothing he just hums and shakes his head a little.

"Welcome my fine furry friends to another case of gross sickness that happened after a super bowl party. Dotcom millionaire Dennis Kyle and his wife Lacy are bloodily slaughtered in their suburban Atlanta home. There was a 911 call that came in stating that Raphael there was about to kill the 'sinners', he left a Revelation quote about the Pale Horse."as Penelope was talking she was showing pictures of the crime scene.

@badgerdryad

[captainjimothycarter]

Steve & Peggy are close childhood friends that reunite in college incidentally. They briefly recognize each other when they happen to walk by each other on the way to class, but can’t stop to catch up, and they have to find each other later.

Steve & Peggy are close childhood friends that reunite in college incidentally. They briefly recognize each other when they happen to walk by each other on the way to class, but can’t stop to catch up, and they have to find each other later.

 Oh, this is just so soft. I am so sorry, it’s so long.

--

“Are you an idiot or something?”

The posh, British tone makes steve look up from where he’s doing a pretty good impression of an Ostrich, his face coated in red dirt and blood. She could see tracks in his skin from where his tears had ran.

“No,” he grumbled, pushing himself to sit up and spitting blood out of his mouth. “Dunno why you’re asking me that. Who are you?”

“Someone that just kicked their butts.” Her thumb jerks over to Steve’s neighborhood bullies stumbling out of the abandoned lot. Even with his bad vision, he could see how Percy was limping and the welt rising on the back of Jeffory’s neck.

“I didn’t ask for you to save me, I had it handled!”

“Clearly.” Her tone and eye roll said otherwise. “You had them by the ends of their britches if you ask me. They were gonna kill you or worst. You’re lucky I spotted them.” Her hand held out and without asking for permission, jerking him to his feet. She’s taller than him, not by much, just two inches. He’s a small thing that looks like he’s gotten accustomed to his face meeting the ground a few times. He defiantly doesn’t know how to defend himself given how he was curled up when those three boys were surrounding him.

Typical brutes.

Steve frowned as he found his way to his feet, ruffling the dirt out of his hair. He was still watching her, confused. She wasn’t from around here, he’s never heard her voice before. He’d remember her accent. It was pretty, like Miss Ramous’. She wore posh clothes too, a pretty pink dress that was now stained with dirt and blood – his blood. Her white knee-high socks were just as stained. The only thing old on her was her tennis shoes.

“Steve Rogers,” he finally muttered, holding his hand out to her. “Thank you.”

“Margaret Carter.” She said her name with pride, showing her white teeth as she smiled and they shook hands. “I just moved here with my mum and brother. I think we’re next-door neighbors in the apartments? I’ve seen you around the complex. You helped Michael.” She paused and started to fuss over his torn shirt. “Do those boys do that often?”

“Do what? Gang up on me?” His one-shoulder shrugged, she noted it was too painful for him to lift the other one. “Sometimes. Normally. Yeah. I fight back but they always gang up on me. I don’t like bullies and if I don’t stand up to them, no one will. They were hurting a cat! That cat didn’t do anything.”

Peggy’s eyes landed on a burlap sack, now empty. She’d seen a streak of orange when she pulled up on her bicycle, having heard Steve’s yelps echoing down the alleyway.

“You’re pretty brave. Stupid, but brave. I’ll teach you how to fight.” She paused, waited for him to scoff like all the other boys did for being a girl, and knowing how to fight. When it didn’t come, her face pinched slightly. “You’re not gonna laugh?”

“Why would I laugh? You said you were gonna teach me how to fight. What? Cause you’re a girl.” Steve shrugged again and his face pinched. “My ma is a girl and she’s the bravest person I know.”

“You know…” Peggy sighed, picking up Steve’s good arm and throwing it over her shoulder to support most of his weight out of the alleyway, “You’re not so much of an idiot after all. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

--

“ Margaret Carter!”

Even Steve had to flinch from the shrill of a woman who looked like Peggy’s voice. She had Peggy’s pretty eyes and curls but her features looked almost sour as she dragged her daughter away from him and left someone with sandy blonde hair and limbered limbs to catch him.

“Mum, stop, I’m fine!” Peggy complained, trying to tug out of her arm. “I was helping, Stevie! He’s our neighbor and the boys in the neighborhood were hurting him!”

“You did what?!” She turned to round on Steve, who was just as confused as anyone. “How dare you involve my precious daughter in these ridiculous tomfoolery games of yours! You’ve ruined her dress and God knows what else!”

“Mother.” The guy holding Steve up looked older than Peggy but had the same kind eyes. Only Peggy’s mother had them but crueler. “Stop it. Peggy was helping a kid in trouble. I’ve seen those boys around the neighborhood. They’re no good and were hurting some poor innocent animal.”

At least someone was defending him because it seems he had lost his voice.

“I don’t care, Michael. Look at what they did to her dress! She has an interview in an hour and-“

“Mother, stop!” Peggy shrieked, stomping her foot and jerking away from her mom. She went back to Steve’s side and helped him stand back up. “Michael, let him go. I got him. Stop being mean. Steven needed my help and I helped him. It’s what dad would’ve done. You would let Micheal help him. I don’t even want to go to this boring, private school with uniforms and stuck up teachers.”

“No daughter of mine is going to some disgusting public school with filth like that!” She glared at Steve like he was a piece of dog turd that he’d thrown in Percy’s face earlier. “And of course I would’ve, no girl should be fighting. It’s unladylike. Now come on.” She went to jerk her again but Steve slapped her hand away.

“Will you stop it?” He snapped at her. “You’ve been nothing but mean to me since I’ve gotten here. You let the front door close in my face when I was helping my ma carry groceries, you locked me out of the laundry room, you turned off all the lights in the lobby when I was using them to read, and now you’re getting mad at me for what? Your daughter’s actions? I didn’t ask for her help. I’m grateful, but she helped me on her own. You should be proud of her! She stopped up to bullies.”

The woman’s face twisted as if she’d been forced to lick a lemon. The sound of the slap echoed through the small hall, leaving Steve to blink away tears.

“You will never touch me again, filth. Do you hear me? This is why I didn’t want to come to America, but your father insisted. Too much filth. Do you hear the language he uses? ‘Ma’. No proper English.” She jerked Peggy away with no warning, shoving her inside of the apartment and slamming the door in Steve and Michael’s face.

Michael was quiet, holding Steve’s shoulder a bit too tightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered after a beat of silence. “She won’t hurt, Marge. She’s cruel but not in terms of…man handling. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Steve couldn’t say no as he was brought inside his own apartment, his ma at work. He was silent as the elder Carter cleaned him up, not even flinching when the alcohol stung the wounds. Michael spoke, he didn’t like silence it seemed. He told him about how their father owned a publishing company and was moving some of the branches to America to expand and how they were going to live here for some time now. And how their mum didn’t like it but Peggy was excited about the adventure.

He spoke lots about his little sister, said how scrappy she was. How she was born small and always fighting, just like how he was. How she was smart and knew two languages now. She was only a year younger than Steve but already reading at a college grade level like he was. He had taught Peggy to fight and their ma had gotten mad at her, not him for teaching her. Made Peggy promise some ridiculous thing about how she was never to be so unladylike.

Peggy, of course never kept that promise.

“Am I not allowed to be friends with her?” Steve asked, around a mouthful of grilled cheese that the elder brother had made for them. “I-I wanna be her friend. She’s nice to me.”

“If you ask my mother she’d say otherwise,” Michael scoffed, rolling his eyes. “But I’ll make it happen. She deserves friends her age and…like you. You’re the first person to make her smile in days.”

--

Someone cursed behind him when Steve stopped in the middle of a crowded hall to do a double-take, his hand clenching the coffee cup a little bit harder than before. No, this wasn’t right. There was no way this was right. Maybe it was the caffeine, maybe it was the lack of sleep because there was no way Peggy Carter could be back in America and most of all, in his very college.

His best friend, his childhood friend. Someone he loved and held dear and close to his heart, someone, who through the years of high school they’d lost contact with one another after Peggy’s father died and her mother became more overbearing especially when Michael took over the family company. Their last conversation sometimes still played in his head.

If that was her, now that he was doubting it, did she think about him as much as he thought about her? It was nearly five years ago they’d last talked and he still thought about her every other day. There were some friendships you didn’t let go of.

“Hey, Stevie?”

The blonde blinked and looked to Bucky, his new roommate, an arm thrown over his shoulder. “Sorry, I was…lost in thought.”

“What with that pretty girl? With the killer heels? She’s in my French class.”

“Yeah, swear I know her from somewhere.” He rubbed at his jawline as Bucky forced him to move, dragging him down the hallway. “You get her name?”

“Nah, I was late for the last couple of times. I can introduce you two though, just meet me after class tonight.”

--

She was so sure of every last decision she’s made in the five years.

Sure about leaving her abusive mother, sure about joining Michael to live in a cheap flat and continue her schoolwork until she graduated early, sure about taking over the company once she got her degree because Michael was not happy about this type of work while Peggy was. Sure about going back to college in America to run the company from there, because it’s the only time she’s felt happy.

She was sure about everything but one thing.

On if that was truly him.

Could it be? Sure, she was back in Brooklyn but there was no telling if Steve Rogers still lived here, if he even existed.

He’d once mentioned about traveling the world after high school, silly pipe dreams she encouraged because it made him so happy.

He looked so different – if it was him. Broader, muscular, fuller hair, and brighter eyes. Last she saw he was scrawny and lanky like he hasn’t grown into himself. He certainly has now – if this was him.

She should turn back, run back to him, ask, and risk herself the embarrassment but the crowd of people was already dragging her away and she couldn’t risk being late to class her first week.

Maybe she could attempt to see him again, stake out the halls.

God, she was being ridiculous. Angie would flip if she knew she was thinking about a boy.

--

“Peggy Carter?”

The voice droned on names so fast that Peggy almost missed hers, her hand shooting up to alert the teacher she was here before dropping her head back down to doodle in the corner of her book.

French. She was fluent in French, so she figured it was an easy A, if anything, but she didn’t expect the class to be so damn boring. The teacher taught everything wrong that if Peggy wasn’t fluent, she’d have to spend time unteaching herself, just to relearn again.

“Pst. Pst.”

Peggy glares in the direction of a brunette guy with silver eyes poking at her with the end of his pen. “And what do you want? I am not keen on having Miss Cat-Lady yell at us for talking.”

The guy laughs and rolls his eyes, throwing a look to the dubbed Cat-Lady whose having a difficult time doing something on her computer. “She treats us like we’re still freshmen in highschool. Anyway, it’s Peggy, right? I got someone who wants to meet you, stay here after class.”

Before Peggy could even ask who, the lights are dimmed and her attention is drawn to the PowerPoint on the board.

--

“Alright,” Peggy sighed when the brunette-James, she learned- stepped back inside the empty classroom, waving his hand at someone to stay still. “What’s all this about? I don’t like surprises much.”

“Oh, you’ll love this one.” He was all grins, he had a very boyish face and attitude that reminded her so much of her brother.

The very last Peggy ever thought to see was the blonde from before, coming through the door with a paint-stained sweater, blue paint drying on the tip of his nose, charcoal on his hands, and nervously holding a cup of coffee.

Her hand flew to her mouth, a few desks between them, unsure of how to get her legs to move. How to move from her spot to his.

This close, she knew in her heart it was him. She could see the kindness in those eyes. The soft scar along his jawline from where he fell off his bike. That boyish grin as the coffee cup dropped to the table and tables pushed out of the way as he scooped her up.

She should be furious that he’s ruining her clothes again, charcoal stains of handprints on white silk but she can’t be. She’s laughing as he spins her around, and they both pretend the other isn’t crying.

“Is it really you?” Peggy whispers, holding Steve’s face in her hands.

“Y-yes, Peggy, yes. I…” He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he acted on an impulse that he should’ve done in the first place.

He kissed her and Peggy sunk into him as she was placed on her feet, arms around his neck until they parted.

She laughed as they did so, her dress officially ruined. “You think I’d learn my lesson the first time we met.”

Steve cringed as he looked down at the front of her dress and at his now cleanish hands. “Your ma isn’t here to yell at me, is she?”

“Good Lord, no, Steven, no, but I am.” The smile on her face said otherwise as she took hold of his face again to kiss him. “I think it looks beautiful with the new handprints.”

A scoffing noise caused them both to look up, Steve’s face flushing as they both realized Bucky was still there. “You two,” he grumbled, downing the coffee and making a face, “are sickeningly cute. Steve, what the fuck is this coffee?”

Steve snorted into the arm of his sweater. “It’s not, Buck. It’s paint water I’m using for a project.”

[purplesurveys]

1248

Your ex taps you on the shoulder and says, “I still love you.” You say?  I feel like I’ve answered a similar situation recently, but I would assume it was a drunk text or wrong text, inform them about it, and move on.

Do you play video games?  Nah. I do feel a sort of connection of video games since I grew up surrounded by them, though; but I’m more of a watcher than anything. I like watching playthroughs of video games I’ll never play. Do you spend a lot of time with family?  No. We used to, back when the quarantine was still a relatively new thing – we hung out in the living room all the time. But now that we’ve settled in this new normal, we’re back to our normal routines and I usually like staying in my room.

Is your house more than two stories tall?  Technically, yes. We have a rooftop that serves as the ‘third’ floor.

Have you ever hit your significant other? Has he/she ever hit you?  My ex and I never hit one another; that’s a gigantic red flag even I would notice, considering I ignored most of the ones I saw hahaha.

What makes you an attractive person? (Talk about your personality too!)  I’m not sure if I’ll be able to answer this question directly, but I like my generosity. I’m not sure if I can call it attractive, though. But if we were focusing on physical features, I like my smile.

What color is your hairbrush/comb?  Pink.

What snacks do you have available in your household atm?  My dad splurged on chips in his last grocery run so we actually have quite a lot of junk food in the pantry at the moment. He also bought several packs of cookie sandwiches, wafers, sunflower seeds, and garlic-flavored peanuts.

Has anyone recently told you that they like you, or find you attractive?  Neither.

Are you attracted to the last person you Facebook messaged?  No, she’s just a good friend of mine.

Do you care about anyone that doesn’t care about you?  I guess I don’t, because I’m not even aware of them.

Was your last Facebook friend requests from a male or female?  Guy. It was another reporter, so I just ignored it and luckily he didn’t PM me just to ask to add him back, which others have already done. I really hate when work people try to make their way into my personal accounts.

Which one of your relatives is most likely to embarrass you?  My parents, especially when they are rude to service crew. Gen X-ers are impeccably talented at that, apparently.

When was the last time you ate a bar of chocolate?  Around two or three weeks ago when I had dinner at Angela’s. Her dad gave me a bar of Crunch so I can have something sweet after our meal.

Do you play any games on Facebook?  No, I never did hop on that trend.

What would you like to get a degree in?  I wanted a degree in journalism, and graduated with such. At the end of my college stint I didn’t want to pursue it anymore, but I pushed through with it anyway because it was too much of a hassle to shift and start all over.

Do you wake up a lot in the middle of the night? Technically not, because I stay up until the middle of the night anyway. It’s been a while since I fell asleep anywhere between 8 to 10 PM.

Would you prefer to read a book, watch a movie or TV show, or play a video game?  Watch a show.

Do you usually get popcorn or soda at the movie theater?  I don’t like either; I get fries instead.

What genre of films do you like the best?  Drama.

How many bank accounts do you have?  Two but I haven’t been using the other one in months. That was the bank account I initially opened when I first started ~adulting~ but when I got employed I was required to enroll in this other specific bank, so that’s what I mainly use now.

Have you ever had the flu?  Not really. I just get the occasional fever that pop out of nowhere.

What is your goal for the next few months?  Start saving FOR REAL, and also prioritizing furniture over merch for a while so I can finally fix up my room, which is quickly starting to look and feel like just a warehouse and not very homey at all.

Have you ever had some kind of sleep-disorder? How did it affect your life?  Nope.

Have you ever had food poisoning before? Describe the experience.  Yeah, it was from barbecue that apparently went bad, even though it tasted nothing of the sort. I woke up at 3 AM sweating profusely and with the most excruciating stomachache; I was feeling hot, cold, and nauseous all at the same time, and it probably lasted for like an hour or so.

What are two things that you have no problem paying full price for?  Sealed albums and my pets’ vet expenses.

Funny, charming, cute, romantic, smart - choose only 2 for the opposite sex.  Charming and smart.

Have you ever let somebody use you? Why did you do it?  It felt nice to help people.

You can go back in time & change something in your mom’s past - what is it? Good question; I’ve never encountered this before. I would let her live a more comfortable, privileged life, where she didn’t have to staple her shoes to keep them closed or have to choose between eating at a fast food restaurant or being able to commute back home.

Do you know anybody who is around the exact same size as you? Who? I’m not sure, actually. Everyone’s always slightly taller than me.

Ever been to a haunted house? How scared were you?  I haven’t.

Been on any websites today you wouldn’t want your parents to see?  Tumblr, I guess? My survey blog isn’t for any irls to see.

Which is worse: dusting or mopping?  I don’t really do either often, but I’ll go with mopping.

Would you marry somebody who was intensely religious?  Not for me.

Did you pull a senior prank?  No, that’s not a thing here. Did you graduate?  Yeah, elementary, high school, and college.

Have you ever been unfaithful in a serious relationship?  Nope.

What was the last song you listened to?  It’s a song called Epiphany.

Are you one of those lucky people with 20/20 vision?  Not ever since I was like 9 lol.

Is fashion one of your interests?  I’m way more interested in it now for sure, mostly because the celebrities I’m into these days put a lot of effort when it comes to their style; so it makes me more aware of the trends that come and go, as well.

Do you think you’ll eventually find that special someone?  I’m keeping it as a possibility, but it’s not a priority for me now.

Do you care what people think?  To an extent, I would say. My life doesn’t depend on it, though.

Is acting something you enjoy?  Never been.

What was the last thing you broke/sprained?  Do you mean a thing or a body part? Anyway, I’ll answer both. The last thing I broke was my BTS Mic Drop pen of V looooooooooool the figurine came off the pen :(( It was pretty cheap though so I’m fine with it; I can always get another one. Last body part I sprained was my ankle, when I had a bad fall a couple of years ago.

Have you ever fought with a friend because of their boyfriend/girlfriend? Because of yours?  Either hasn’t happened.

Has a stranger ever yelled at you for your language?  I don’t think so.

Whose house, other than yours and your families', are you most comfortable at?  Angela’s. Also JM’s, just because their family doesn’t hover and that vibe can sometimes be nice whenever I’m at someone else’s place.

Has any of your friends’ family ever yelled at you?  Never.

Did you ever play a sport as a little kid? Did you enjoy it? Not as a very young kid, but I took up table tennis starting when I was 12. Did you ever watch the show Full House?  Nope.

Is there a celebrity you are just DETERMINED to marry?  Now that’s just delusional haha. I’m pretty obsessed with some celebrities, that much I can admit; but thinking of them in the context of marriage is so many steps overboard.

Have you ever burned someone’s picture?  No. I could, but I am scared of fire and will probably just think of other ways to express my anger, like tearing up the photograph. What’s the longest hike you’ve ever been on?  Total length was probably like 3 hours. I haven’t gone too far when it comes to hiking.

Would you ever get a lip tattoo?  Not interested.

Who is the first person of the opposite sex that pops into your head? Hans.

Do your parents smoke cigarettes?  My mom tried it once in her life, I think. My dad has never smoked.

What does one of your T-shirts have written on it?  “Hope right here!”

Name a pet you definitely wouldn’t want.  Anything that’s supposed to roam freely in the wild, like squirrels.

Would you prefer your partner smaller or taller?  Taller, since I’m already quite pint-sized to begin with lol.

Do you enjoy going through old pictures? Sometimes. Other times, it's too painful. It also depends on the era of the pictures. < Agree, especially with the eras. Childhood photos are always fun to look at, but I have had to delete a CHUNK of photos from years ranging from 2014 to 2020 because I’ve lost a handful of friends from that period.

Do you believe people when they say they don’t judge people?  It’s hard to for the most part, but I’ve noticed very few people people really don’t. Most of the time it’s bullshit though.

What did you love the most about the town you grew up in?  That it’s pretty close to the metro.

What’s a movie that you laughed the hardest during?  Hmm, I prefer TV shows if I’m craving comedy.

What’s a movie you cried the hardest during?  Life Is Beautiful.

What’s your favorite restaurant?  Omakase for my sushi fix; School Tteokbokki if I want Korean; Yabu if I’m looking for a generous rice meal.

Is there a dessert you don’t like?  Anything with fruits.

Favorite album?  After Laughter by Paramore.

What’s a book that you read because everyone else was reading it?  I can name authors instead of books – John Green and Haruki Murakami.

Underwater or outer space?  Outer space.

Dogs or cats?  Dogs.

Kittens or puppies?  Puppies.

Bird watching or whale watching?  Whale watching. I don’t get to be in the water as much, so I would jump at the opportunity.

What is your spirit animal?  I dunno if I have one but let’s just go with dog and elephant, I guess? They’re my favorites.

What was your best subject in school?  History.

What was your worst subject in school?  Chemistry.

What is one thing you wish you knew in high school?  Don’t waste your time.

Who is your fashion icon?  Audrey Hepburn.

Diamonds or pearls?  Diamonds.

What color dress did you wear to prom?  For my own prom it was cream-colored/beige. When I went to Mike’s ball, I went with a royal blue gown.

What’s your favorite plot-twist?  I don’t think I’ve found my favorite yet.

Honestly, are you jealous of someone right now?  Not actively.

Honestly, what’s the worst thing you’ve done when you were mad?  I dunno...road rage, maybe?

Honestly, ever made anyone cry when you were mad?  It’s very likely.

Honestly, when was the last time you REALLY cried your heart out?  Sometime in the last week.

Ever pop someone else’s pimple? No thanks.

Do you need to return anyone’s phone call?  Nope.

Who are you closest to?  Angela.

Have you ever had a bad concert experience?  No, all the ones I’ve been to have been amazing experiences.

Are you currently sad about anything?  Not really. I can’t complain.

Have you had any form of exercise today?  Nah.

Can you handle blood?  Nope, I will feel faint if I see it 100%.

Has any place hired you underage for a job?  No.

Have you ever carried a concealed weapon?  I haven’t.

Are you currently searching for a job?  No, I like the one I have.

Does eating breakfast make you sick?  No?

[creepy-spooghetti]

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Yayyy, the second chapter is done! Enjoy~

Chapter 2- Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

It's hard to make sense of anything around her. The static making itself ever-present in her mind is almost crippling. It blocks out all of her thoughts. Distant whispers erupt throughout the endless grays and blacks. It's like she's fallen into a void. Like she can't escape.

A breeze suddenly blows past her. It's burning hot but somehow icy-cold at the same time. It gives her a feeling of terror, utter, raw fear that grips at her heart and squeezes her lungs. She finds it hard to breathe. She looks around frantically. It's the same. Everything is the same. She can't even see a floor beneath her feet, but she knows it's there. It has to be there. What else would she be standing on?

The static grows stronger, louder, overwhelming her senses and making her grab at her head in a desperate effort to make it stop. The breeze billows and the voices become more distinct. But she still can't hear what they're saying. Are they even saying anything? Or are they just murmurs of agony riding the wind and reaching her ears?

"Y\n..."

That voice. Something about that voice sends shivers down her spine, makes her heart speed up to an unhealthy rate. Her gaze averts around, trying to find a source, but she ultimately fails.

"Child... come."

'Come'?  Come where? The static in her mind seems to thicken and still at the same time, greatly confusing her, and she furrows her eyebrows. A fog graces her feet as it rolls across the seemingly invisible ground, bringing a sensation of dread and impending doom with it. She backs away, though finds it does nothing, as the area surrounding her goes nowhere.

"Come to us..."

"Who are you?!" she yells, but immediately tenses. She can't hear herself. Her voice has been... muted. The static continues to get stronger, and she hits the side of her head, trying to stop it. It cancels out her thoughts, makes her feel helpless. All while a suffocating feeling settles in her chest and it becomes more and more difficult to collect oxygen.

"Join me... Come..."

***

Her grip on the sheets covering her torso tightens as she shoots up in bed, instantly being greeted by light from the morning sun shining in through the window and making her squint her eyes and turn her head. She takes deep breaths, savoring the air finally invading her lungs as she tries to calm her rapid heartbeat.

She has had a lot of weird dreams before, but none compare to the one she just woke up from. She stares at nothing, in particular, blinking away the tears that formed in her eyes and refusing to cry. Taking notice of the fluffy feline curled up on her thighs and looking up at her with startled eyes, clearly not happy about being woken up, she lets out a soft sigh and strokes his back, finally able to steady her nerves and focus on more positive things.

"Sorry I disturbed your precious beauty sleep," she mutters sarcastically, wiping her eyes to get herself awake. She tries to brush the dream off as nothing, just stress creeping its way into her head and giving her freaky thoughts. But something about it just... unnerves her. Like it is much more serious than what she wants herself to think.

Leaning her back against the wall of her bed, she runs her hands through her messy hair and releases a yawn, rubbing her eyes before grabbing her phone off of the stool that she had pushed up beside her bed the previous night and turning it on, curious to see if anybody sent her a message and wanting to get her mind off of the nightmare.

None. She drops her phone by her side and slumps down, disheartened. I guess nobody cares, anymore. Then again, who can blame them? I'm just an inconvenience, anyway.

She managed to catch a glimpse of the time in the top right corner of her phone before she turned it off, discovering it's around 9:40 in the morning. "Sorry, buddy. I've gotta get up," she says, looking down at the cat in her lap that just got settled and is now trying to go back to sleep. His ear twitches in recognition, and she runs her fingers through his thick fur before gently sliding him off of her and standing up.

When her bare feet touch the chilled, hard-wood floor, she flinches and jumps onto the fluffy rug in the room's center, trying to get used to the surface in her mind's still hazy state. She glances back at the bed, and her e\c orbs land on Marshmallow, who is looking at her in obvious distaste. She narrows her eyes.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. It's not like you can't sleep any other time of the day." He blinks and stands, stretching for a moment before turning away from her and lying back down. "Okay, fine, be that way. I bet you won't be mad when I give you some beef jerky later."

With that, she looks at the closet, then down at the floor, knowing what needs to be done and mentally preparing herself for it. C'mon Y\n, it's just a floor. A floor made of ice... but a floor, nonetheless. Quit being a pansy and go.

Sucking in a breath of encouragement, she steps onto the wood and lets out a squeak, her pace quickening the closer she gets to the closed door. "Right about now would be a good time to have slippers," she murmurs to herself, opening the door and stepping inside. She sifts through the different clothes, deciding what she wants to wear though not having to look for long.

She throws on some shorts and a t-shirt, socks, and a pair of tennis shoes before stepping back out and heading toward the bathroom, hoping that nobody else is occupying it at the moment. To her luck, once she's out of her room, she finds it empty and strolls inside, closing the door behind her and flicking the light switch up.

After flushing the toilet and washing her hands, she does everything in her morning routine before walking out into the hall and heading down the stairs, instantly catching the whiff of a pleasant scent wafting from the kitchen. Farrah takes notice of her granddaughter entering the doorway and sends her a welcoming smile as she takes a pan of biscuits out of the oven.

"Good morning, hun," she chirps, removing her oven mitts and turning to face her. "How did you sleep?" Y\n walks closer and shrugs, remembering the endless, dull scenery and the eerie voice whispering those words to her in her head.

"I mean... I had a pretty unsettling dream but, other than that, I slept fine." Farrah hums and tilts her head slightly. "What about you, Nana?"

"A lot more peacefully now that I know you're here under the same roof," she replies, giving her a brief hug, which Y\n gladly returns. "So, you hungry? I made breakfast!" Y\n glances over at the stovetop and nearly drools when she sees freshly-cooked bacon resting on a plate, scrambled eggs in a skillet, and the same pan of biscuits placed beside them. She can feel her stomach start to rumble the more she stares at it, so she just nods over-enthusiastically and goes to retrieve a plate and fork from where they were set on the island in preparation.

"This all looks delicious, Nana," she comments, scooping some eggs onto her plate after getting several pieces of fried pork. Her eyes meet Farrah's, and she sends her a grateful look. "Thanks for making it all."

"Oh, it was no trouble at all, just like you, my dear, are no trouble at all." She pats her affectionately on the head before sliding her hand down to cup her cheek and smiling. "Now go eat your food and enjoy it." Y\n nods, taking a step back and laying the plate full of food on the counter, aiming to get butter and jelly out of the fridge. She also grabs a spoon and butter knife afterward, using them to smear the two substances across the soft inside of her biscuits before grabbing her plate once again and strolling through the living area and into the dining room.

She pulls a chair out from under the table and takes her seat, anxious to get some food in her stomach and finally start her day. Farrah soon appears with her own platter of breakfast and sits beside her, the two chatting about various things as they eat, and time seems to fly by. At around 10:25, Y\n rises from the chair and heads back to the kitchen, feeling properly filled-up as she rinses her dishes.

Her gaze averts to the window behind the sink, being greeted by the bright morning sunlight and the colorful scenery that she doesn’t get the advantage of seeing in the city, where she, unfortunately, was born and raised. She spots her grandfather, sitting in an old chair out on the lawn and admiring nature at its finest, seemingly lost in thought.

Allowing a fond smile to stretch across her face, she dries her hands on a towel hanging from a rack before poking her head back into the living room. “Hey, Nana…”

“Yes, hun?” She twists her body around slightly to meet Y\n’s eyes in curiosity, and Y\n grips the door frame with her hand and leans forward, letting her arm keep her stabilized so she doesn’t fall over.

“I think I’m gonna go outside for a while if you don’t need me here for anything.” Farrah nods.

“That’s a good idea, Marshmallow needs to be let out, anyway.” As if on cue, the fluffy feline walks down the stairs, tail high in the air and head raised as he jumps to the floor and stops in front of the closed door, sitting down and looking at Y\n expectantly. “Where are you gonna go?”

“I dunno.” She shrugs, glancing down at Marshmallow and meeting his bright blue orbs. “I was just thinking about going on a walk, or something.”

“Yes, some fresh air will do you good after breathing all of that polluted city stuff.” She takes a sip of her coffee thoughtfully. "Just be careful and keep an eye out for bears. Or anything dangerous, for that matter."

"Yes, ma'am." She nods in understanding and steps over to the door, opening both it and the screen and allowing Marshmallow to prance through and onto the porch, likely eager to go about his daily hunt and roam. Following behind him and shutting the door behind her, a warm, familiar breeze hits her in the face as she does so, and she once again averts her eyes over to Phil. "Good morning, Pops." Her voice raises just enough to get his attention, and sure enough, his head turns her direction before the corner of his lips quirk upward in a cheery smile.

"Hey, hummingbird! Did you sleep okay?" She bites the inside of her cheek and leisurely makes her way down the stone path leading toward the gate. Thinking back to her eldritch dream, she stuffs her hands in her pockets and answers quietly.

"As well as I could, I guess..." Though when he doesn't seem to hear her, she rewords her sentence and speaks up. "I slept fine. What about you?"

"Ah, well. You know how it is with all these old joints and bones. They never give you a break."

"Sorry." She breathes a sympathetic laugh. "But I can't say I have any experience in that field." He releases a snort in response and leans back in the old patio chair, raising a thick, bushy eyebrow.

"Yeah, that's 'cause you're a spring chicken. Trust me darlin', the years'll catch up to you eventually. And then you'll look like me." He pats his rotund belly for emphasis, and she rolls her eyes playfully and can't stop the amused huff from exiting her lips.

"I'm sure I will, Pops."

"Where are ya going?" She unlatches the gate and glances at him before nodding her head in the direction of the opaque forest surrounding the quaint property.

"Walking. I thought I'd try to... get a better feel for this place, again." She notices his face seems to soften ever so slightly, and he briefly looks past the many tall trees, into the shaded woods, and lets a breath out of his nose before meeting her gaze once more.

"I'm sorry you haven't been here to visit, Y\n." Her chest constricts and she shifts her eyes down to the ground uncomfortably. "It's not right for your dad- your parents- to put themselves before you. They shouldn't treat you the way they do. I wish you'd let me do something about it." She only shrugs solemnly, her mood doing a one-eighty and dropping to the floor, though she tries to mask it and instead forces a smile on her face that she hopes is reassuring.

"It's isn't your fault. Dad's just... just a jerk and Mom is..." She sees it's difficult to find correct words to describe her mother, and after a moment to think, shakes her head dismissively. "They-they have issues. But yeah, don't be sorry, I'm okay. Two more years and I'll be outta there, anyway."

"Well... you're more than welcome to stay here, for as long as you need. It gets lonely around here without anyone visiting us." She brushes a strand of h\c hair out of her eyes and tilts her head curiously.

"Nobody visits you? Not even Aunt Darcy?" Her stomach does a concerned flip when she sees his facial expression turn from mildly sympathetic to alarmed in an instant, and her eyebrows furrow, questions zipping through her mind at lightning speed. His hands, she notices, clench the arms of the chair and his breathing seems to have quickened, if only slightly. "Pops...?"

"I-I, uh..." He lets an anxious breath flow out of his mouth as he runs his wrinkled fingers through his hair. "Yeah, no, your aunt doesn't come. She hasn't, not in a while..." Y\n can sense the tension in this conversation, and how strange Phil's sudden change in behavior is. Hesitantly, she speaks, her voice low.

"Wh-why? Did you guys fight or something?" Although she hasn't seen her aunt in over five years, she still remembers her clearly, and she knows that she wouldn't ever willingly avoid Phil and Farrah. Unlike Darcy's brother, she isn't a sour person and wouldn't let something as ridiculous as a disagreement get in the way of their relationship, especially since her son Wyatt always loved hanging around here.

"No." He shakes his head lightly and refuses to meet the e\c eyes of the girl as he collects his thoughts and puts them into words. "Look... we'll talk about it later, alright? You just go and enjoy your walk." He dismisses her with a wave of his hand, though she doesn't move, and instead stares at him with an obscure expression painted across her face.

"What's wrong, Pops? Did something bad happen?"

"It's fine, sweetheart," he reassures, his tone vagarious. "Be careful out there. Don't want to get mauled by a wild dog, do ya?"

"Gee, what a pleasant thought," she mutters sarcastically, but figures that he isn't going to give her the answers that she so desperately craves at this point. I'll try my luck with Nana when I get back, she thinks, letting out a dismayed sigh before stepping through the gate and locking it back. "No, sir. I'll be careful."

When she receives no response, she turns on her heel and heads toward where she remembers the old trail used to be, the previous subject heavy on her mind. That was weird. Has Darcy really not come to visit her parents at all? For how long? She supposes that she has been gone for a very prolonged amount of time and she's sure to have missed some things, but just how important are these things? Something obviously happened between her grandparents and her aunt. But what? Hopefully, she'll get a reasonable answer when she comes back.

She walks under the willow tree beside the cottage and is unable to stop herself from glancing down the road, where her mom and dad disappeared a mere day ago and left her behind with the parents that her father absolutely refuses to talk to, reconnect with in any way, all because of a petty argument.

Nah. She narrows her eyes in indignation. He's just always been selfish. And unfair. And a terrible person. That 'argument' was just what pushed him over the edge. What even was their argument about? She wracks her mind but can't seem to recall any moment where her dad actually explained what was going on, not to her, anyway. In fact, the only time he graced her with an answer at all was when she gathered up the courage to ask him why they haven't visited Nana and Pops in so long. She believes that she had just turned twelve a few weeks prior when she became curious about it and walked up to him one day in the living room.

"Hey, Dad?" He hadn't even looked up at her. Didn't give any attention to his only child. "Daddy?"

"What do you want." It came out as more of a demand than it was an actual question. Still, he didn't look up at her, and she had taken a seat beside him on the couch.

"Um, I was just wondering... we haven't seen Nana and Pops in a while-" She cut herself off when she was met with the sharp, threatening glare of her father, becoming instantly uncomfortable as she stared back uncertainly. It had taken her off-guard, as she had never seen her dad's eyes as cold as they were at that moment. Especially when they were looking at her.

"I don't want to hear anything about them." The way he had said that sentence made her heart drop in concern, and she flashed him a bewildered look.

"...What? Wh-why?"

"Don't ask questions. Just don't mention them." Puzzled would have been a good word for how Y\n was feeling at that moment. Thoughts were swarming her mind, and despite the hard, final tone of voice her father had, she continued.

"But... they're your parents? A-and I miss them. Don't you miss them, too? It's been almost a year-"

"What'd I say?" He snapped at her, his lips pressed together into a firm, angered line. "Don't. Mention. Them."

"Dad-"

"My God, you're more persistent than your mother." He shot her a disappointed look, though she only craned her neck to the side.

"What's wrong...?"

"Arguments, Y\n. Arguments about crap that doesn't concern you." She couldn't stop herself from flinching slightly at the harshness of his words.

"Dad..."

"Stop talking and go to your room." When she stayed still, looking at him with wide, questioning eyes, he released a huff of irritation. "Now."

Shaking her head disapprovingly at the distant memory, she eventually rediscovers the path that she traversed down so many times, back when she was merely a child, before she had so many problems in her life. It appears to have not been used in quite a while, as there are weeds growing up from the ground, low-hanging branches swooping down and entangling together, making a sort of archway. The grass is extremely overgrown, and just by looking at it, she would guess that each blade would have to be around three feet high.

She suddenly looks down at her bare legs, a little nervous about stepping through the tall grass likely housing ticks and traced with thorns. Maybe I should've worn jeans instead... Letting out a defeated sigh, she cautiously steps through the tall, twisty foliage, trying her best to avoid getting scratched by a brier or catching her foot in a weed and tripping.

She glances up and ahead of her, feeling relieved that the shrubbery thins out just a few feet down the path and should be easily manageable. She just has to get there in one piece. Carefully, she takes several slow steps forward, the grass tickling her legs each time she moves, though she brushes it off and focuses on making it through.

Should’ve brought some branch cutters or something. After a couple of minutes, she arrives in a less hazardous area, and instinctively reaches down to brush her legs and feet off, just in case there are some bugs that may have been taking refuge on them, though to her ease, finds none. She places her hands into her pockets and continues her stroll through the peaceful forest, savoring the natural sounds erupting from all around her.

The chirps of the birds and rustling of leaves create a relaxing cadence; a sound that she rarely ever gets the pleasure of hearing. She only just realizes how much she missed being here, able to roam around, enjoy the area without the interruption of her parents, city life, or just drama in general. Letting out a tranquil sigh, she wonders how long she can stay here. How long will her parents be gone? It isn't like they care about her absence anyway, that much is apparent. The only reason they'd come back is because of their work, their fancy jobs working for some billionaire company that Y\n could care less about. Sure, they make a pretty good living off of it, and it isn't the worst job in the world, but it takes up all of their life. At least when she was little they made time for her, but now? They don't even bat an eye in her direction.

Do they even still love me? It's a question she's asked herself a multitude of times throughout the last few months, but the answer was always too painful to accept. They haven't said it since... since I was fourteen. She remembers it clearly. It was her fourteenth birthday, they had a cool party, her best friends came, back when she still had some, and her parents took a little time to make her feel special, which, even at that point, was a rare trait to exhibit. But they did it.

Her father had hugged her and told her that she's beautiful, her mother had stroked her hair, explaining to her how much she meant to her. That she loved her. It was the last wholesome moment they ever shared together, and thinking about that makes her chest ache with loneliness. Although she wants to think that she still holds a special place in their hearts, she knows that the odds aren't in her favor.

She allows a sad chuckle to exit her l\c lips as she shakes her head. Oh, well. A girl can dream, right?

___

The masked male walks swiftly through the dense forest, staying attentive as he listens to everything around him. The quiet tweets of blue jays, the rustling of leaves, the flow of a nearby stream- all normal. Which is good. That means nothing out-of-the-ordinary is lurking around, following him. At least, nothing that isn't remaining silent. But he's grown accustomed to his surroundings, and he's confident that he'd be able to recognize a threat, whatever form it may take, from wherever it may have been hiding at.

He feels his phone vibrate from within the confines of his pocket and inwardly rolls his eyes. That's the fifth time in the last three minutes that Ben has texted him. He's sure that he's still going on about how something is "urgent" and that he has to "get here ASAP". What does he think he's doing? Moving at a snail's pace? Ben's house is over half a mile away from his own, and he's only been walking for about five minutes. No matter how speedy and agile he can be, he still isn't Superman. Shouldn't Ben know that? Moving from one place to another takes time.

After around two more minutes, he finally sees the old cabin come into view, shrouded by vines, weeds, and various other greenery. To oblivious, inexperienced eyes, it's nearly undetectable, which is perfect. It doesn't draw attention, which is something that Hoody, among others, greatly prefer. Any poor soul that may wander this far into the woods and see it, or any of the others, will be taken care of. Immediately. They can't take a risk. It would be too dangerous.

By the time the phone buzzes a sixth time, Hoody is already coming to a stop in front of the rustic-looking door that's made of the same taupe ash wood as the rest of the house, with some minor improvements to better ensure safety. The whole place, whether one's standing from afar or looking at it close-up, seems like it would be very insubstantial and a hazard to be around, much less live in. But in all reality, it makes quite a good home for the two that take residence there, and it's most definitely safer than it may first appear to be, thanks to a few key individuals and their useful carpenter abilities.

He knocks quietly on the hard surface, stuffing his hands inside of his pockets and waiting patiently for Ben to stop hounding him with text messages, notice that he's right outside, and allow him in. Shouldn't he already know where he is? That's why he installed one hundred cameras around the area, right? To observe what's happening without having to leave the comfort of his chair? Or perhaps that's what he wants to see Hoody about; complain that his cameras are malfunctioning and ask for assistance. Though he doesn't know how much he'll be able to assist him because he doesn't have half the knowledge that Ben has regarding electronics. But he'll do what he can if it means getting one of their main lines of defense up and running again.

He's pulled out of his thoughts when yet another message comes through his phone and makes it vibrate against his leg, a feeling he's really beginning to get irritated by. Releasing a muffled sigh and deciding it would be better to just check whatever text he just received instead of ignoring it altogether, he pulls out the small device, and swipes down on the notification tab, seeing not six, but ten unread messages from the teenager himself, all of which consist of either "where are you?", "you gotta get here quickly", or "hurry your butt up, you depressed son of a cracker".

"Ah, screw you, too," he mutters to the screen, knowing full well that its target won't be able to hear him. Unless he has the audio turned on and is secretly listening to him talk. The little creep, he can't help but think before he finally reaches the last and most recent message.

Just come in, the door's unlocked

Obeying the message, he grips the knob of the door with his gloved hand and gives it one swift turn, pushing once he hears a small 'click' and entering the cozy-looking household while shoving his phone into the back pocket of his jeans where it rightfully belongs. The interior is nothing special; a kitchen with a small bar and plenty of counter space to spare to the right, a living room with an old, dingy-looking sofa, a couple of chairs, and a coffee table to the left, and a narrow hallway straight ahead, which has five different doors leading to five different places. Two of them lead to bedrooms, one a bathroom, one a laundry room, and the one at the very end is an entrance into the basement, also known as Ben's office.

Shutting the door behind him, he ventures farther into the familiar area, counting on the sunbeams currently shining through the dirty windows to light his path and take him to his destination. Where is his destination? Not able to see Ben nor his roommate anywhere, he assumes that either one or both have to be in the basement, so he begins his trek through the darkened hall until he reaches the closed door, once again wrapping his hand around the metal knob and giving it a firm twist before it creaks open, giving him access into the electronically-lit room below.

He can hear faint voices getting louder as he calmly walks down the staircase, one reasonably deep and the other about a pitch or so higher. He descends downward until reaching the ground, glancing to his left and being met with two easily-recognizable figures due to their odd features.

One of them is sat rather comfortably in a computer chair that he no doubt stole from Amazon, his blond hair swept to the side in a messy, boyish style. He sports a pair of converse, black skinny jeans, a dark green Halo 5 t-shirt, and a beanie. His appearance would be startlingly normal if he lacked the glowing, red eyes and the tears of blood that slowly cascade down his deathly pale cheeks.

Standing leaned against the wall next to him is someone nearly three feet taller, body clothed in all black save for the navy blue mask that covers his face and the strands of copper-brown hair sticking out from under his hood. His eyes are nothing but soulless, empty pits that replace where his once chestnut ones used to be, the sockets constantly leaking a thick black substance similar to that of tar and leaving sticky trails down his mask.

Both heads turn to look at Hoody when he appears behind them, and Ben instantly jumps up, his shorter-than-average height noticeable, especially when compared to taller people, like Hoody and Jack. "It's about time you get here, slowpoke!"

Ignoring the comment, the man clad in a mustard-yellow hoodie crosses his arms impatiently and eyes the one in the corner of the room for a moment before turning his attention back on the blond in front of him. "Now, what exactly was so important that it couldn't wait a couple of hours?" His voice is low and calm, but authoritative, and Ben glances at Jack anxiously.

"We think that egg head is going after someone else to make his slave." Hoody raises a brow beneath his ski mask and gazes down at the boy curiously.

"How do you know?"

"Cause Jack's been getting these-these, um, feelings? For a while. I don't know, wh-what kind of feelings, like-like bad kind of, weird and freaky feelings, maybe since a week or so ago, then he walked by somebody after, y'know, stocking up on his, uhm, diet... and he said they emitted a really strong, like, odor? Or something? And then-"

"Ben," Hoody speaks, cutting the boy off in the middle of his sentence and ultimately silencing him. "Just let Jack explain it." His lips part to say something, though he only lets out a quiet huff after a moment before plopping back down in front of the multiple monitors of different areas in the forest and leaning backward in a sulking manner. "Right." He sighs and signals for Jack to begin speaking, to which he nods and complies.

"I've been feeling... strange, lately," he starts, his voice deep and muffled though decipherable nonetheless. His hands are stuffed into his hoodie pockets as he lightly boosts himself off of the wall with his foot and stands at his full height. "A kind of... tingling, in my chest and mind, but not a good one. More of a... ominous kinda tingling, like something bad is about to happen, or someone's fixing to get hurt. But I don't know who."

Hoody processes this newly-received information and listens with keen ears, inquisitively waiting for the eyeless man to continue.

"But earlier today, after leaving a house, this feeling got a lot stronger. And it was really sudden, like, it just hit me. I couldn't figure out what was happening until after I looked around a bit and noticed someone walking down some grown-out path. And somehow, immediately after I saw her, I knew that she was in danger."

"Wait, wait, wait," Ben interrupts, holding out his hands in a silencing gesture. "It was a girl? You didn't tell me that."

"Because I was waiting to inform the more mature ones who actually focus on the situation rather than something as ridiculous as gender," he remarks, making Ben scoff. Hoody, ignoring Ben altogether, turns to completely face Jack in order to further question him about the somewhat surprising matter, neck craned to the side slightly.

"Okay, but why does this mean that it's connected somehow to him? Did she cough? Did you hear any static?" He merely shakes his head in the negative.

"No. I just know that something sinister is going on and that feeling I've been getting the past couple of days is definitely coming from her. Just an evil, dangerous aura surrounded her, which is why I'm sure that he's involved." Hoody rubs at his head, finding it hard to doubt a word that Jack's saying. He's never been one to lie, after all, and being a reincarnated version of his former self gives him certain... supernatural abilities, that others don't have. Not even the two ghosts of their group.

He stands there a moment, still and quiet as his mind swarms with questions, before looking at the navy blue mask but having to avoid direct eye-contact with the empty sockets in his face due to making him feel uncomfortable. Not that it can be seen, anyway. "Um... alright, well. What do you suggest we do about it?" He earns an unsure shrug in response.

"I guess we could just eliminate her. It would throw off whatever his plan is and get her out of the cycle before she inevitably gets hurt."

"Unless he brings her back," he points out. "Then she'd be more powerful and we'd have another one to fight against."

"That... does make sense. But we can't just leave her there to become a victim. Either she'll accept him or he kills her. Which would just be one more innocent wiped out by his hands."

"We could bring her back here!" Ben suddenly speaks up, once again rising out of his seat and painting a confident look across his ghostly features. "I mean, she wouldn't be in immediate danger and we could tell her what's going on so she knows what to do and what to avoid."

"But then she'd be endangering us." He shoves his hands back into his pockets and takes a step closer. “And what if she’s already under his influence, huh? We’d be leading him straight toward us and there’s no way we’re strong enough nor do we have the numbers to fight him and his group of freaks.”

“Yeah, but what if she’s not? I mean, we need the extra set of hands, anyway. She could be useful!”

“At what cost? The lives and freedom of everyone here? It would be stupid to bring her here, especially since we don’t know anything about her.”

“Jack!” Ben turns his attention to the tall, lanky man standing silent, hoping to get somewhere with him. “You’re the demon here, so is she dangerous?” He plants his masked face in the palm of his hand in the universal sign of ‘oh my God, you’re an idiot’ before answering, his voice low.

“I don’t know, Ben. She seemed totally normal, but I didn’t get a very good look.”

“There ya go, boomer.” His red pupils shift back up to look at Hoody, his eyebrows raised. “She’s not dangerous. We can bring her.”

“For the record, I’m only six years older than you,” he starts, attempting to bite down his exasperation with the teenager and speaking with a level tone, to which he receives an eye roll. “And Jack didn’t say she wasn’t dangerous, he just said she looked normal. They’re two totally different things.”

“Whatever.” He places his hands behind his head carelessly. “I still vote that we bring her here.”

“We’ll ask the others and get their opinions. Jack,” His head turns to look at the mentioned boy, “is there anything else I should know about these ‘feelings’ or the girl you saw?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay then. Ben, call everyone and tell them to meet up at my place within the next thirty minutes.” The tone of his voice leaves no room for argument, and without question, Ben whips out his, now slightly outdated, cellphone and begins to text each person in his contacts exactly what Hoody told him to say.

“Oh, by the way, I fixed your phone.” He pulls out a small flip-phone from his pocket and tosses it to Jack, and he effortlessly catches it and slides it into his pocket, muttering a ‘thanks’ while he does so. Hoody turns to leave, though before he starts climbing the stairs he speaks once more.

“You both need to come, too. We all need to discuss this and figure something out before tomorrow.” They nod in reply, and he disappears from their sight.

[zoessecretjournal]

Monday, April 19th, 2021

Today was a great day! I didn’t sleep so well despite the full on beach day we had the day before. It was Taylor’s last day here, unfortunately we really only got to say goodbye today as I was leaving at 11am this morning to meet up with Ryan. I let her sleep in my bed and she gave a groggy goodbye as my Lyft approached the apt. On the way to Ryan’s I listened to Shygirl and started out the window, trying to stay cool. It was the first time I would see him since all of our serious talks, and he had been spending the weekend trying to help Kathleen get to LAX (she mixed up the dates apparently) so I expected him to be tired. I got there around 11:30 am, dressed in my chartreuse green baby doll dress with a white soft tee underneath. My gold earrings, white tennis shoes and gold lobster broach as accessories, and a natural style face. When he came to collect me from outside he certainly looked tired, but happy to see me. When inside, he complimented the color of my dress and drew in to kiss me, and then he held me for a long while. He genuinely gives really good and meaningful hugs.

As soon as I sit down on the couch he plops his head on my lap, wanting me to scratch his head. I tell him he’s just like a cat and he gives me a look to suggest “so?” in a cute way. Whenever I scratch his head, he always ends up doing it to me at the same time, as well as using his other free hand to hold mine or touch me in some way. We stay this way, catching long gazes at each other intermittently, for about half an hour. He asks me about my Hinge profile and how I must have a line of suitors. I tell him about my date with Daniel and how cringe it was, but not before he asked if I kissed him!!! I lie and say no, because I never wanted to really kiss Daniel in the first place. We have fun reveling in how basic Daniel is, and then Ryan proceeds to tell me about his coffee date with someone this week with someone from Hinge. Apparently she is also “ethically non-monogamous” and only wants to make friends. Whatever.

Then we decide to walk to his car to head off to the LACMA. Ryan shows me how they just laid out new tar on his street and someone had ruined it by driving on it, he really isn’t happy about it apparently. I honestly don’t really understand the big idea, but maybe I would care if I drove. On the way to his car he is of course quiet and a really slow walker, I feel like I fumble all the time trying to keep his pace while traversing the uprooted side walks of East Hollywood. Ryan thought he got a ticket as we were walking to his car and my stomach dropped, knowing how much that has effected other people I’ve dated in the past. Thankfully it ended up just being a “thank you” note from someone he helped get a spot behind his car. I could breath a sigh of relief, honestly. On the way there he held my hand, put his hand on my though, squeezed my fingers while catching my glance a few times. He doesn’t talk much in the car and I’m learning he really shows that he cares in a lot of non-verbal cues, which is so different from the Ryan I knew as a friend.

At the muesuem, Ryan gets a iced espresso before we get in. The place was pretty empty and we weren’t in a rush, it was a nice change of pace to be outside with him somewhere in the day time. Ryan took a second picture of me (The first was while i was sitting on his couch) in front of the dome next to the LACMA. Both were prompted by him, which made me feel pretty good. During the Nara exhibit, I found that I was much more talkative, I actually expected him to make jokes about more of the art but there were none! He didn’t even laugh at some of the funny ones! I respected his approach though, very contemplative. There were some really beautiful pieces, and I take a long while to stop and stare at everything. I really appreciated his patience and how he kept pace with me, he was interested in seeing it all with me.  The big paintings of Nara’s work were pretty amazing to see up close. I’ve seen a lot of this work in art books, but those photographs and scans can never capture the way the skin of the character’s look in person. They literally look alive, you see all the blue, pink and yellow hues that make a breathing person, but with this simple illustrated, petulant face. The eyes were also a kaleidoscope of colors, his techniques I've tried to commit to memory. especially the white dot technique.

After the exhibition Ryan thanks me for inviting him, saying no one ever invites him to things like this or things in the day time. I ask why he thought that was? He replied “I don’t know, covid?” and then he sings “or maybe I’m secretly cancelled!”. I wish I would of said this at the time, but I suspect it’s because he’s sober, and I hope that doesn't happen to me. He asks if I am hungry, and I say that I am, he suggests Korean BBQ by his place, to which I agree. We drove down 6th st which apparently he had never gone down and he remarked on how beautiful it was, it certainly was, I had missed it. We still hold hands, and even tighter this time as we make our way to K-Town. We both order the Bulgogi and while we wait for our take-out order Ryan discusses with me his thoughts on the exhibit. He spoke about how long Nara had been an artist and expected to do the same style over and over because it’s what sells and rarely to those artists get to do other stuff. He then started relaying it to his own work and how dispensable art is and how we just eat content like McDonald’s. I agree with him, I explained how I felt disenfranchised for those reasons as well. We get our food eventually and head back to his apt. On the way back from the car, Ryan makes a few stories on people leaving bagged dog shit in random places in his neighborhood. He doesn’t have a lot of shame when it comes to his musings in comedy. A quality I both admire and am fearful of. When we get inside I take off my shoes and spruce up a little. We eat in his kitchen next to his two open windows with the honey suckle veranda directly outside. We both had a non-alcoholic beer with our meal which was surprisingly good.  I can’t remember much about what we talked about, I think we just were eating and played footsie a little bit.

He invited me to lay down with him in his room after we were done, so I followed him there. We laid down for some moments, very close and comfortable.I was caressing him all over, I genuinely like to do that with my partners, but specifically Ryan, hes very receptive to touch. We end up kissing and he stops and asks me if I really want to do “this” and I tell him I do. We end up having sex twice, both times Ryan tries hard to focus on me cumming. I don’t but I think he thinks I did the 2nd time. For some reason I’m having a hard time with that, and also getting wet, but I still had a great time (I was really close though) . We felt closer some how, less stress involved. I even fell asleep with his head in my chest. When he woke up, he woke me up. He caressed my neck and grabbed my face to look at it, my eyes still half-way closed. He gets up to go take a bath and I slowly come to and retrieve my phone and go sit in the kitchen next to the open window. I respond to everyone I can, Matt (from Hinge, who I met yesterday at the bonfire) had messaged me to tell me he was free all week, and he was making carbonara if I wanted to stop by. I think I’m going to see him tomorrow.

When Ryan gets out of the Bath and dressed (in a matching green playstation shirt might I add) he puts on a podcast, gets a sparkling water and lays down on the couch. I assume, no room for me, so he wanted to be alone. He was quite quiet as well again. So I decide to purchase somethings from amazon (sewing machine, humidifier, etc) and when I finally put my phone down I look over at Ryan and he was looking at me. He immediately puts his arms up to say “Come here”. As I approach he says that I can lay on him any way I like, face up, down etc, and so I lay down on him stomach down so I can still see him, and he starts to massage my shoulders. We listen to this podcast for awhile like that, and talk about random things relating to it. at some point they get onto the topic of Randonautica, in which I explain to Ryan, who had never heard of it, what it was all about. As I’m explaining it, he downloads the app! I had dared him to do it, but he actually was really interested. Funnily enough, the pin it dropped was right in between his ex-gf’s apt (Dani) and his good friend Shawn’s apt (Who they both date apparently) which really freaked him out. But just as he got the pin, his friend Shawn messaged him on facebook! He looks at me bewildered and asks if I want to meet his friend Shawn and go check out the pin and I agree. I had expected to sleep over but felt instantly rejected, but realized we had spent a lot of close time together so I should just deal with my feelings right then and there. Ryan gets my attention and re-assures me it’s just because he hasn’t had much space the past few days and he had a really lovely day with me. His serious tone made me feel better and I assured him that I was ok.

Before we head out I ask if we can take a Polaroid together, unfortunately both times they are incredibly blown out. He lets me borrow a jacket of his, even though I just gave him back his sweater and we head off. I tell him that I have a bunch of mushrooms I’ve been waiting to take and ask him if the next time we hang out if we could do them/he could babysit me and he enthusiastically agrees. Even though I tell him I am quite the handful on them in large doses, he had a look of reassurance that he can handle it. We’ll see.

We arrive in the area and walk to the pin, Ryan points out where Dani lives as we pass by. The pin was behind a residential gate with an old mustang stored in it, with both its hood and trunk open and a shovel up against it. Ryan tells me his “intention” he set for it was for us to see a UFO, which there was none. But we did see a cardboard cutout of Vegeta from Dragon Ball Z, so I guess him being an alien is close enough. We walk to his friend’s house, which Ryan had the access code memorized, they must be very close. Shaun and his friend seemed to be working on something music oriented for a game as we walked in, Shaun was very nice and welcoming. We end up talking for awhile and he offered me a Kombucha, Ryan seemed to really enjoy himself and liked that I got along so well. We hung out probably for about half an hour and then decided to head out so Ryan could take me home. He asks me how I’m doing and I say that I am having a really nice time, and he looked really happy about that and confirmed he was too.

On the ride back he had his hand on my thigh and I had my hands on his hand and the back of his neck, giving him a light massage while we listened to the tail end of that podcast. When we get to my place he tells me I should borrow his jacket again, that it looks nice. I tell him that I’m going to be busy all week but we will see each other soon, he tells me he is also going to be pretty busy. He reiterates what a great time he had that day and gives me a deep kiss and a long hug. We part ways and I arrive back home to tell Johnny some of the snippets of today while I respond to all my messages on my phone. I ate sushi and got ready for bed. Ryan texts me a bit in the evening, telling me again! how nice today was and what he was up to. It felt really easy and nice.

[thelemoncoffee]

Me: i’m gonna upload the design bullet points for EWWBL Also me: *makes HPA Talent Swap Au instead*

  ~~OKAY SO HERE WE GO THEN ~~ ~~~LONG ASS POST INCOMING~~~

Part One!! (there’s too much for one post)

[Kokichi- Detective] >Is amazing at his Ultimate >Lies so frequently no one believes him when he's serious >He often mocks people for not believing him when he ends up proven right >Hyper analytical by impulse >Pushes people away with lies due to self-consciousness issues >Actually pretty serious when he's at the Agency, they know him better so even when he does lie they see right through it >lock-picks are his best friend istfg ~~~~ -School outfit     >Black to purple (T to B)faded Turtleneck     >White trench coat     >black fedora, checkered band on it     >White pants from original design     >Random chains and shinies on the coat     >Original shoes -Casual     >Oversized hoodies     >Ripped black jeans     >Pastels     >Still lots of shinies     >Purple and white sneakers

[Kirumi- Pianist] >Still mom >Frightfully dedicated to her craft, she spends any time she can in the music room to practice >Looks calm but has way too much energy at all times >Caffeine addiction >Insists helping Kaede and anyone else really is "taking a break", no one else agrees >Please sleep girl ~~~~ -School outfit     >Black open front sweater     >White button-up dress shirt     >Black long skirt, piano key base trim     >Black tie, spiderweb pattern from original     >Original gloves     >Purple treble note hairpin     >Black heels -Casual     >Grey open front sweater     >Pale olive green shirt     >Deep purple long skirt     >Various necklaces     >Platforms

[Shuichi- Leader] >Runs a 10 member Graffiti/Thief Organization >They collectively decided to call it the Strikers Guild >People automatically assumed his organization was massive and possibly dangerous due to his demeanor >He never actually stated his member count cause no one asked >The Guild is very supportive of him, and helps him out alot with his social anxiety >Feels like he isn't worthy of his title by any means, and if people knew the real member count, they'd agree ~~~~ -School outfit     >white neck hugger shirt (idk what their called)     >black & silver striped open front overcoat     >black slacks     >Emo Hat (tm)     >Dress shoes -Casual     >Hoodies and turtle necks     >Ripped jeans     >Still Emo Hat (tm)     >Black sneakers -Strikers uniform     >Dark blue cape w/ hood     >worn black army style uniform     >custom wolf mask     >Dress shoes

[Kaito- Adventurer] >Plants are fucking cool man >He started adventuring cause he hates being cooped up in one place and it escalated from there >Still got a hero complex, always trying to do something to be heroic to someone >Freakishly good at parkor, he uses it to get in places he really shouldn't be >He's still lazy, so unless he's out traveling, you won't catch much talent related activity from him except parkor ~~~~ -School outfit     >Original shirt     >Tattered school uniform overcoat     >Torn dark jeans     >unbuttoned purple dress shirt under overcoat     >Several band-aids     >Band bracelets     >Sneakers -Casual     >Same thing     >without school overcoat     >Combat boots

[Angie- Tennis Pro] >Claims Atua caries her through all her matches >Was sent to Juvie for a year after she committed arson >probably only ever drinks energy drinks >Still basically the same old Angie but tennis ~~~~ -School outfit     >blue and cream tennis uniform     >Original overcoat     >Obscene amount of band bracelets     >Sneakers -Casual     >Graphic crop-tops     >Skinny jeans     >Still too many bracelets     >Now there's alot of necklaces too     >Sandals

[Rantaro- Astronaut] >Has been to space and back twice, planning a third after highschool >High-key likes dad jokes >Never seen without his galaxy pedant/necklace >Really just likes the space aesthetics, he even uses a space themed bookbag and has a galaxy phone case >Gets high with Kaito often cause he keeps bringing him weed back from other counties ~~~~ -School outfit     >Galaxy necklace always and forever     >Open-front hoodie w/ original shirt stripes     >Original jewelry     >Jaxa shirt     >Original cargo khakis     >Galaxy sneakers -Casual     >Basically same thing     >Hoodie around waist     >Jeans

[Gonta- Anthropologist] >Humans are really weird but fascinating >Still got lost in the forest for a long time(6, not 10 years) >Makes up for the 6 years by studying cultures in every way he can find possible >Ended up being more fluent in English and Russian than Japanese thanks to how much he culture hops ~~~~ -School outfit     >Brown Tailcoat, Sleeves rolled up     >Green infinity scarf     >Cool cultural bracelets     >Darker brown slacks     >Dress shoes     >Pendants of all sorts on scarf     >Glasses have a chain on one side -Casual     >Button down shirts     >Dark brown pants     >same bracelets

[Ryoma- Artist] >Has like- 3 cats >Was just a vibing hobby artist but then HPA noticed how good he was and now he just vibes there instead >Chill as fuck most of the time >Don't disrupt him while arting, it's dangerous >Has a sign on his door to let people know he's in the art vibe >his art ranges from really detailed and beautiful works of all media, to shitpost doodles >He has a wall covered in sticky note Doodles of his cats ~~~~ -School outfit     >hats! (beanie, fedora, and beret)     >baggy sweats     >Hoodies     >Sandals -Casual     >same thing but messier

[Tenko- Robot] >T3N-K0 is her Given name, but she figured it would be easier for humans to say Tenko >Was programmed to speak in third person, and has no clue why >Doesn't trust boys to not do something cruel to her, like take her apart or something >Often fusses over Himiko's well-being, she doesn't fully understand how humans work but knows her sleep schedule isn't okay >Likes to hang out with Maki and ask her for cool updates, Maki doesn't want to ever do more than make sure she's running smoothly, often shooing her out to have some peace ~~~~ -Build     >hair is fiber-optics, loop sections have rotating joints dividing them     >built to resemble a female body     >kinda resembles a basic blouse and skirt     >Hair bow doubles as a fan     >Headband pin is the fan's power button     >Likes to wear chokers

Part Two!

[seemslegitflapjacks]

Chapter 3, New Kids On the Block

I got woken up to the sound of someone's obnoxiously loud electric guitar. I growled, throwing off my blankets, quickly hopping off my bed. I snatched some clean clothes out of my dresser, threw on a t- shirt and basketball shorts with some tennis shoes. Chanel rubbed his cheeks against my legs. I picked up the overly needy cat, walking out of my room, quickly putting a ponytail holder around my wrist.

As my door shut behind me, I noticed my parents had already left for work, go figure. Didn’t even get to say goodbye to my mom. I dropped Chanel, the little cat following me as I went to Liu’s room. With a smirk, I kicked open the door and swiped the pillow from under his head and hit him with it.

“Ow- What the hell is wrong with you!?” He yelled.

“Get up we gotta go out for a run.” I Told him, hitting him with the pillow again.

“Quit it with the pillow!” Liu snapped, snatching his pillow from me.

“I’ll be downstairs dude.” I told him, before walking down the staircase.

As I made it to the bottom of the stairs, I saw my dog, Rambo, just standing there. His big fluffy tail puffed out as he stared me down. His brown eyes looked like more of an amber orange. I stared back at him, Chanel behind me.

“You ok buddy?” I asked.

As soon as I finished my question Rambo sprang back to his old self. His tail wagged as he ran up to me, whining and asking for pets, occasionally jumping up onto me.

Eventually, Liu and I had left the house, starting our jog around the block. It was a lot hotter than I had anticipated, but it wasn’t anything I wasn’t used to. Some kids rode through the streets on their bikes. A few dog walkers passed by every now and again. None of the neighborhood was that interesting. Just a quiet rich people neighborhood, nothing special about it.

As we jogged, the sound of the familiar electric guitar grew. Liu and I looked around, trying to see which house the obnoxious noise was coming from. Long story short, we didn’t have to do much looking around, because we were right in front of the guitarist’s garage. Where the guy was standing, absolutely killing it as he played. It was kinda cool, seeing someone being able to play an instrument so well. I stood watching for a moment, Liu trying to pull me away, but I wasn’t having that. This kid could play, and he could play good. I was here to watch the show.

Once he had stopped playing, the guy looked up to me, a bit wide eyes, before he spoke.

“I didn’t know I gathered a crowd.” He smiled sheepishly, dropping his guitar on a chair.

“You’re a pretty good player, how long you been doin’ it?” I asked, looking up at him.

“Couple years, it’s really nothing, but thanks.” He chuckled.

“Cool, what’s your name?” I asked, looking up at him.

“Oh, the name’s Keith.” He smiled, holding out his long fingered pale hand.

“Cool, I’m Jeff, over there’s my twin, Liu. We moved in about a block away.” I replied.

As soon as I took his hand to shake, I felt something cold spread up my spine. A shiver running down my whole body. Something about this guy didn’t feel right, I could tell just by a handshake with him. He was too cold for a living person to be. Like a human popsicle, The only real way I could describe it was like being able to feel pure evil.

“Anyways, see ya, we gotta walk.” I laughed awkwardly, retracting my hand.

“Alright, see you around.” He smiled, before going back to his guitar.

As soon as we walked far enough away, I sighed.

“What?” Liu asked, cocking a brow.

“That kid was weird.” I told him.

“How? He just looks like he got stuck in the early 2000’s.” Liu responded.

“He was cold.” I blurted.

“Just because people are cold doesn’t mean they’re weird, that's like the dumbest thing I’ve heard” Liu rolled his eyes, before I interrupted.

“No not that kind of cold idiot. I'm talking about ice queen cold.” I snapped.

“So you’re saying he’s Elsa?” Liu asked.

“No! I’m saying he was like evil! Like that ice lady from Narnia!” I argued.

“Ok, whatever you weirdo.” He sighed, before he went to jog ahead of me. I sighed, running to catch up to him.

After we finished our walk, I decided to go check out the beach. It wasn’t too far of a bike ride, only about four to five minutes. It had been a while since I got to feel my toes in the sand The move had stressed me out, so a swim wouldn’t hurt.

I walked into the garage, pulling my bike from against the wall. I pressed the garage door button, quickly running on my bike and kicking up the kickstand, riding out of the garage and into the streets.

As I rode my bike down the streets, I quickly noticed how many people live in the fancy rich people neighborhood. I thought it would just all be old people with too much money and that needed a vacation.Thankfully, I was very mistaken, nothing was worse than cranky old neighbors. All they ever did was nag all day and night. Sure, some old people back in my old neighborhood were cold, but for the most part they were just biggoted old hags. I swear this one woman’s house smelled so bad of cat piss you could smell it from three houses down. I’m not even kidding that is how bad her house smelled, nothing living should live in that house.

I skidded to a stop, my tires rumbling against the road. I walked it over, quickly chaining it up to one of the little bike parking lot things. I snatched the beach bag off the handle, checking to make sure I had sunscreen, I didn’t need a repeat of Florida. Thankfully, I had it, so I didn’t have to worry about becoming Larry the lobster. The wind tossed my hair in fifty different directions, I spat it out of my mouth, hopping off the sandy curb onto the beach. I waddled my way down to the ocean, a bunch of kids screaming and splashing in the water. While the adults sat in chairs drinking beer and margaritas. I walked down to a spot in the sand, laying out my towel as I tossed my t-shirt into the bag, snatching up the sunscreen to spray myself down. I looked at the water, seeing the clear turquoise waves lap at the sand. The waves turned in on themselves. I ran into the water, swimming through the cold salt water. My hair getting soaked in the water. I rose out of the water, splashing my face. I smiled, closing my eyes as I turned my face up[ to the sun, breathing in the fresh ocean air. A wave lifting me up off the sand and pushing me back. It felt so nice to finally be at the beach again, I finally got to just swim and relax. Even if it was for the afternoon.

[detroitbydark]

Moonbeams and Ridinghoods Chp 6

Pairing: Werewolf!Haz/Reader, Tom Holland/OC

Word Count: 2700+ 

Warnings: None

Summary: Y/N enjoys a girls day and makes a new friend.

A/N: Guess who's back? Back again? Me bitches! I really had fun with this chapter. There's not much of our boy but I wanted to world build just a bit if I could. I hope ya'll enjoy it.  

You'd taken the contract in London without so much as batting an eye at the description. London was selling point enough and you wanted out of your small town fast. It had seemed like a no brainer. You did that a lot, jumping into things without much thought for what would happen next. As you scan through your meager wardrobe your reminded that in the future it wouldn’t hurt you to make a plan. There’s scrubs for everyday of the week. There’s yoga pants, t-shirts and sports bras galore. You’ve got a handful of your favorite denim jeans, boots, tennis shoes, your lucky red hoodie and a few passable sweaters. What you don’t have is anything to go out on a fancy date in. Nothing. 

You’d verified the fancy too. When you’d messaged Harrison earlier you’d asked what you should wear. After you’d nixed the idea of your ‘birthday suit” he’d said a dress would be fine or “whatever made you feel comfortable”. Somehow, you didn’t think holey sweats and a tank top were going to cut it. 

After staring at your meager pickings for longer than necessary you grab your phone and ring Emily. 

“Hey girl! We doing dinner tonight?” she asks right off the bat.

“If we can shop first. Harrision’s taking me out on Saturday and I’ve got, literally, nothing to wear.” You explain pulling on jeans.

“Now, you're speaking my language. I’m going to dip out of here in fifteen. Can you be ready by four?” 

You look at the clock. It was half past three and all you had left was to run a brush through your hair and throw on some basic, everyday make-up. 

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

Emily had been even more underwhelmed by your closet than you had. 

“You do own a dress, right?” She asks giving you the side eye from the driver’s seat of the BMW she’d picked you up in. You snort lightly.

“Yes, I do in fact have a closet full of pretty dresses. They’re just not on this continent.” Emily chuckles.

“Just checking” she says turning off the main street onto a side road. “Well, I’m sure Caitlin will have something for you. She’s my go to. Honestly, she’s the best. Great selection and even some of her own designs” she explains as she parallel parks in front of a small storefront. Diamonds and Pearls is scrawled out in an elegant cursive script above the shop door. It’s cute. You can see racks set up throughout the small shop through the window and comfy chairs littered here and there. Emily hops out and waits for your by the door. You’d been hoarding your pay and while it didn’t look like somewhere you’d usually allow yourself to go you were excited to see what you could find. 

A petite redhead greets you as you enter and Emily scurries to wrap her in a hug. The women embrace for a moment, pressing their foreheads together gently before offering a pair of air kisses to one another's cheeks. They turn back to you.

“Y/N, this is Caitlin.”  You offer your hand for a shake and the woman gives you a funny smile before pulling you in for a hug.

“And to think, Americans call us uptight?” she jokes. You can’t help but laugh along with her. “Call me Cat.” She instructs. She’s petite with wild mane of auburn hair and green eyes that sparkle as she looks you over.

“Y/N is supposed to be going on a date and she is woefully under prepared” 

You roll your eyes as Emily explains but you don’t argue. She’s right.

Cat gets a bright look, “Ohhh my favorite kind of client. What kind of date are we talking? Are we hoping for some dessert after?” She asks wagging her eyebrows suggestively. You can’t help but laugh, finding yourself liking the woman already. 

“Harrison’s taking her out” Em interjects before you have a chance to say anything. Cats  eyes grow wide and she stares at you with an entirely different look, more assessing, as if sizing you up. You must pass whatever litmus test she’s run you through because her easy grin returns quickly as she takes your hand and leads you over to some racks. Emily proceeds to take a seat and watch the show, obviously having been through it a time or two before.

“Haz, eh?” She asks you as she begins pulling dresses from the rack. She looks from you to the garments before placing some back and draping others over her arm. “It’s about time the old boy had someone on his arm.”

“It’s nothing serious.” You defend and she laughs. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you peak at the message.

Haz: Don’t let Em get you in any trouble ;)

Haz: call me later 

You stifle a smile as Cat gives you a knowing look. You quickly shove your phone back into your pocket.

“Harrison hasn’t taken a girl out in ages. With everything he’s got on his plate right now, if he’s pursuing you than it is definitely something.” 

“Everything on his plate?”

Cat and Emily share a quick look and Cat shrugs.

“Haz keeps busy is all. Family business doesn’t run itself now does it?”

You watch Cat curiously as she moves about her shop. Occasionally you point to a piece and she dutifully picks each up and adds it to the pile. Once you’ve looped around the racks once she seems to be happy with her haul and she motions for you to go to the pair of small fitting rooms in the back. Emily follows the two of you back and the they take up spots on the opposite ends of a loveseat as you begin trying on different outfits. Em looks regal with her legs primly crossed at the knee while Cat sits with her knees pulled close and her arms looping around them.

It’s been so long since you’ve been with “the girls” and even longer since you played the grown up version of dress up. Each outfit earns a thumbs up or thumbs down from the pair.

After showing off a red satin shift dress that received mixed reviews you step back into the changing room. 

“So Y/N,” Emily begins, “how long were planning on staying over here?”

You slip out of the red dress and wiggle into a black halter dress that clings to your curves with a hemline that falls mid thigh. Taking a step out of the dressing room you do a little turn in the mirror to catch all the different angles you can see. 

“I’m not sure yet. I mean, my contract has another few months on it but i’m not opposed to staying on longer.”

Cat rises to her feet makes a motion to the dress. “May I?” she asks and you pick your arms up.

“Please do” you encourage as she folds the hem and adjusts the loop around your neck.

Cat speaks casually as she works, “So nothing you’re wanting to rush back stateside for?”

You laugh as they attempt to dig information from you. 

“Nope” you offer, “my stuff is in storage and, honestly, I don’t think I'm particularly missed.”

“Ouch girl…” Em mutters, “be gentle with yourself.” 

You shrug helplessly. You hadn’t spoken with your mother much since you’d arrived and your best friend was certainly preoccupied. Cat takes a step back motioning for you to take another look. You're careful to move, afraid to be poked by the pins she’s placed but you can’t help but absolutely blown away. The dress had looked pretty good before but with a few alterations it looked like it had been made for you. You can’t take your eyes off yourself. While you’d known in the right light and with the right makeup you could be considered attractive this made you feel like something else entirely. It made you feel elegant. It made you feel sexy.

“Oh my God…” you murmur, “This one. It’s got to be this one.” 

Emily and Cat nod in agreement.  “So when Haz falls desperately in love with you do you think you’ll hang about?” Emily asks. You turn and give her an odd look. 

“Is there something your trying to get at?” You ask, not answering her question. Emily shrugs as Cat excuses herself to look for a pair of shoes. 

“I watch out for my boys and Harrison…” Her eyes steady in on you. “Harrison is like a brother to me and I’d love to see him with someone that can accept him for everything he is.”

“Ive liked what I've seen so far. I get he’s probably complicated. The good ones are, right? But he makes me feel…” you shrug as Cat returns and your thankful for the distraction she provides as talk turns back to fashion and shoe choices. 

After deciding on a dress and shoes the three of you go through a few more outfits. Cat grabs a garment bag off a rack and hands it to Emily. The dark haired woman raises a brow.

“Is this…?” She trails off.

“The one I told you I was going to make you? Absolutely.” 

You duck into a dressing room as Emily moves into the other. You switch into your last outfit, fitted leather pants and a red cropped halter. Cat has an eye for fit and a style that is so much like your own. If you had deeper pockets.

“Is she going to Luna next weekend?” you hear Cat asks Emily quietly.

“I don’t know yet. I think it would be a good idea. Tom’s not keen on outsiders though so who knows at this point.”

“Isn’t Harrision’s big fight-” 

Whatever Cat had been about to ask is cut off as you push past the velvet draping. You watch as she grasps her hands together and smiles widely at you. Her eyes travel over your outfit and she turns to Em as she exits her dressing room.

“You May be ousted for a newer muse, love.”

Em chuckles and your mouth goes dry as she gives the designer a little spin of her own. She’s gorgeous and you feel like you pale in comparison but that isn’t what has you shocked silent. As she flips her dark hair over her shoulder you can't help but see the jagged, pink puckered scars that traverse her right shoulder. The jagged and torn lines dip as far as the eye can see. The cocktail dress doesn’t just show off the brutal marks but seems to accentuate them with its deeply dipping back. Em turns and her smile fades as she catches your expression. You stumble to recover.

“I didn’t mean to stare-“

Waving her hand dismissively, Emily gives you a sad smile. “I started owning these a long time ago. I hardly notice them most days.”

You bite at the inside of your cheeks and Cat finds something in some of her stitching very interesting. 

“Can I ask…?” Your curiosity is too much. Em nods and turns so you can get a better look.

“Feral dog” she says with a dark tone. Cat makes a sound that comes out as a coarse, bitter laugh.

“One way to put it.”

“The only way to put it.” Emily confirms seriously. 

The mood in the room has shifted and your not sure how to get back to where you were. Emily senses it too. She turns her back away from you and looks at you with bright searching eyes. You notice a much smaller scar running along her left collarbone. 

“if the ones on my back are my curse,” she says softly. “Than this one is my blessing.” Her fingers graze the pink crescents lovingly. The are dainty and refined in comparison to the mauled marks you’d just seen. 

Emily has a calmness and control over her. The solemn feeling ebbs as she looks at Cat, changing the course of conversation with such ease you don’t even think about what you’ve seen or more questions you may have.

“Would you like to come out to dinner with Y/N and I?”

It’s late when the town car brings you through the high iron gates of Emily’s home. The three of you are rosy cheeked and laughing as Cat makes a joke about Emily’s boyfriend, Tom.

“So how far up his arse does that stick really go?”

Emily snorts and water from the bottle she’s been drinking comes out her nose.

“He’s not that bad!” She defends but Cat looks across at her with such an incredulous look that Emily can’t help but giggle.

“Maybe he’s just a little serious but that’s his position.”

You’ve been happy to sit fairly quiet for most of the evening as the two women have gone back and forth joking about different people in their social circle. They’d stopped occasionally to explain how this person or that related and you’d nodded dutifully trying to trace all the moving parts and tying them together with the anecdotes you were hearing. As the night progressed and the wine had flowed it had been decided for you that you’d stay with Emily. 

As you take in the large brick home with lights shining brightly in its windows you’re a little awestruck. It’s gorgeous and bigger than any place anyone you’d ever known had lived in.

“Em, are you sure I’m good to stay? I don’t want to impose.”

“Y/N, this place has room for days.” She says. A slight slur is noticeable when she speaks. “Besides I’m not putting your drunk ass into a cab.”

The car parks and you grumble as you open your door. The other two women laugh as you stumble on your first steps toward the door. Maybe you were a little drunk.

“You’re telling me the pair of you aren’t feeling it?” You ask indignantly as Cat presses into your side. You loop an arm over her shoulder and lean into her for support.

“Darling, it's not that we’re not pissed it’s just” she leans into your ear, whispering dramatically, “we’re nowhere near as pissed as you are.”

You can’t help but laugh as Emily appears on your other side, miraculously able to walk in the pair pair of heels she’d been wearing all night.

You enter into a spacious kitchen. A marble island takes up a large footprint and you slip into a bar stool next to Cat. Emily grabs another bottle of wine from an under counter wine fridge and a trio of glasses. You’ve all lost control of your volume and it’s not long before a pair of heads peer around the corner, a head of thick unruly curls and a tall hulking man with close cropped hair.

“Tuwaine! Harry!” Cat crows when she catches the pair. “Have a drink with us!”

The men move in with weary smiles like they’ve been in this situation before and they don’t entirely trust the women you’ve stumbled in with. Tuwaine’s eyes skim over you before he’s giving Emily a look that even your drunk self can read.

“That’s Y/N.” She explains “Harrison’s new friend.” The way she emphasizes friend has him raising a brow.

“Emily…” he says warningly but she’s shoving a tumbler into his hands and smiling that same in control smile she displayed earlier. He grumbles something bringing the amber liquid and ice up to his lips.

You hear, “Tom” and “Not happy”.

Harry appears at your side with a drink of his own and a bottle of water that he forces into your hand.

“Drink up, lovey.” He encourages, “there’s no use trying to keep up with the lushes. You won’t survive.” 

Giggling you take the bottle and begin sipping at it, letting your wine glass go forgotten as he slides it away from your reach.

Emily talks shop with Harry as you work on your water. They talk about advertising and weekly specials at the cafe. Cat flirts wildly with Tuwaine who seems all to happy to have the little designers attention. You feel like part of something and it’s a feeling the grounds you in the moment.

At some point someone mentions turning a movie on and the group of you meander through a long hall and into an entertainment room. You sink onto the couch next to Harry and lean against his shoulder while someone ques up Avengers: End Game. Your eyes are starting to feel heavy when another pair of voices join your group.

[mysweetsixsixsix]

Ramblings about Kari

I got inspired to share some info about Kari while I had some downtime at work! Sorry for the huge wall of text, I’m putting that in a cut.

Visuals (made with Picrew): One | Two | Three | Pact Mark Locations

Fair skin, medium dark red hair, brown eyes. Is short (5’ 2"), somewhat curvy, and well endowed but chest can be easily flattened with a loose shirt and/or a sports bra.

She is at least 80-90% human and 10-20% demon. Has never unlocked her demon form fully but her eyes will turn red when she gets in a mood (specifically: angry, nervous, or sensual/sexual). Her body heat can be high at times but does not feel feverish or dizzy. She just gets hot and always feels the need to cool off.

Personality traits: Quiet, curious, generous, compassionate, affectionate, temperamental, hesitant, overthinker, self-conscious.

Tries not to be a perfectionist but actions show otherwise. Is meek and scared of causing trouble.

Kari’s demonic form is played off as her being unhinged and tipsy. Can get very cocky, angry, and/or sensual and you will know by her glowing eyes. Once she realizes she has demon ancestry, she will be more mindful of her actions (and end up suppressing her emotions, oops lmao).

Fashion is mainly goth/punk, loves wearing black clothing with studded accessories. Doesn’t wear much jewelry, save for the piercings. She wears a lot of pop culture shirts, hoodies, and jeans/sweatpants. Shoes vary but likes wearing tennis shoes and black boots!

Has multiple piercings: 3 studs on each ear lobe, 1 stud or ring on left side of nose, and one above her upper lip (medusa piercing).

Mainly has her hair down but will put it up in a ponytail on occasion. Doesn’t know shit about braiding hair so she doesn’t bother with it.

Only wears glasses because she’s nearsighted. She can see okay without them. Can’t see text from far away mainly. Doesn’t like wearing contacts.

28 years old, birthday is June 28.

Zodiacs are Cancer (sun), Capricorn (moon), Virgo (rising), and Goat/Sheep (Chinese).

Favorite flower is a red rose.

Favorite scent is jasmine.

Favorite animal is all of them. If she had to pick though, probably cats.

Favorite food is sushi with some wasabi on the side.

Favorite drink is a tie between jasmine green tea and peach iced tea.

Doesn’t drink alcohol often but likes wine coolers and white russians. May sometimes take shots of cinnamon whiskey when she’s daring. Keeps her alcohol intake limited but might get a little tipsy, especially when she’s in a mood. Her flushed cheeks and red eyes are a quick indicator.

Favorite colors are red and turquoise.

Favorite music are rock, metal, and pop.

Loves to sing, can play some piano but is not great. Not comfortable playing other instruments. Might sing at a talent show or karaoke nights if encouraged enough. Would love to perform on stage but is nervous af.

Likes to dance and let’s the music guide her. If she’s really comfortable around you, her moves are a little more sensuous.

Despises loud noises. Do not take her to a club or any place that requires yelling to hear someone.

Distracted easily, horrible at multitasking (especially in conversations) but when it comes to work, she gets the job done somehow.

Doesn’t have much family connection, mainly a loner with some friends.

Had a decent part-time job before she got transported to the Devildom.

Bachelor’s degree in social sciences. Considered going back for her master’s at some point. After her trip to the Devildom, she’s greatly interested in knowing more about other species’ cultural norms and values. Satan (and possibly Lucifer) might’ve had a hand in encouraging the higher education route.

Didn’t like wearing skirts but complied to the RAD dress code. Eventually feels comfortable wearing them after a while.

Somewhat of an otaku and gamer, likes spending time with Levi and can mostly translate what he says to his brothers.

Tries not to nap a lot but shit happens, especially if she’s had a rough day.

Is not against having multiple partners. As long as it’s all consensual and communication is there, that’s what’s most important!

She will require a lot of space to herself but may not make that known at first, since she’s a people pleaser and dislikes any sort of conflict.

Theme Song: Clocks by Coldplay

[creaturefeatures-and-mysticyarns]

A Modern Horseman

Characters: Male Dullahan, gender-neutral reader

Content Warnings: house fire, car accident, reference to depression/suicidal thoughts

Rating: Orange/PG-13

Word Count: 2467

You stared in horror at the black smoke rising from your home, trying to figure out how this had happened. You lived alone with a particularly grumpy tabby cat named Morwen, and never left candles or the like lit if you weren’t right there. And yet, you came home to the building on fire.

“Oh no! Morwen!” you suddenly cried, rushing forward with the realization that your cat was still probably trapped inside.

A hand reached out, grabbing your upper arm to hold you back and making you stop short in shock, after all until that moment you thought you were alone. You turned to glare at the stranger, annoyed that they were getting in the way of rescuing your cat. He was tall, thin, and incredibly pale (you might even have called it a deathly pallor if you were thinking about such things). He wore all black, pants, button down shirt, and long trench coat, nearly blending into the shadows of the alley around him. His thin lips curled into a frown.

“It’s not safe,” he rasped, shaking his head gently.

“Let go of me,” you snapped. “I’m not leaving my cat in a burning building!”

When he showed no sign of letting go, you yanked out of his grasp. You just made it across the street and to the corner of your lawn when you were thrown to the ground by a blast of heat, as the fire blew out your windows, raining glass shards across the grass and sending fingers of flame up into the sky. You heard a scream, only realizing belatedly that it was your own. Hot tears poured down your face as you continued to stare at the utter destruction before you.

Suddenly, the stranger was in front of you holding out an irate ball of fur toward you.

“She made it out the kitchen window before it exploded,” he said, struggling to keep her in his outstretched arms.

You frowned, puzzled at the statement since your kitchen windows weren’t open, but decided not to question your good fortune as you took Morwen from him and cuddled her against your chest. Immediately, she began purring and nuzzled further into you. When you looked up from her, to thank the stranger, he was gone. You heard the sound of a motorcycle engine fading into the distance before it was drowned out by the sirens of emergency vehicles arriving on the scene.

~

The next time you saw the stranger was about six months later, as you walked out of your office for the last time, a small cardboard box of belongings and a very small check all you had left of the job you had dedicated yourself to for three years. He was across the street, dressed the same as he had been the night of the fire and leaning against his massive, old-fashioned black bike. He raised a hand in a gesture of greeting, your eyes meeting across the lanes of traffic, and then rode off again without a word.

You tried to tell yourself it was coincidence as you walked to your car, dumped the box in the back seat, and pulled out of the parking lot.

~

The third time was when you were headed home for a while to visit your sister and her newborn daughter. A driver who had been weaving through the lanes of traffic clipped the corner of your own car, sending you spinning off the road and careening through the guardrail into a ditch. The first person who stopped to offer you aid was a tall motorcyclist in all black. You had hit your head on the steering wheel and was fading in and out of consciousness as he gently lifted you from your wrecked vehicle, laying you on the grass and taking off his helmet and then his entire head to bring it closer and listen for your breathing and heart rate.

“My cat,” you murmured, trying to convince yourself that you hadn’t seen what you thought. “My cat was in the back seat…”

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent tingles down your spine. “Always you and this cat.”

When you woke up in the hospital, thoughts swirling with images of handsome headless motorcyclists, you were told that you were lucky to be alive. By some bad luck of manufacturing error, the car had thrown you on impact, but that throw might have saved your life, since shortly after, the engine had caught fire.

“Morwen?” you asked, heart in your throat.

You mother patted your hand, careful to avoid the bandaged lacerations from your broken windshield. “She’s fine dear, the EMTs arrived on the scene just after the fire and heard her yowling. They got her out before she got hurt. She’s waiting at the house.”

You nodded, flooded with relief. But still your mind swirled. You were certain that you hadn’t been thrown from the car, and your injuries were fairly minor for that having happened. When you tried to ask about the motorcyclist who had stopped to help you, no one had any idea what you were talking about.

~

After you had recovered from your accident and returned to your regular routine, you couldn’t get the stranger out of your mind. Late one night a month or so later, as you laid awake staring at your ceiling, you thought you heard the sound of a motorcycle coming to a stop outside your new apartment. Heart in your throat, you threw a sweatshirt over the tank top and shorts you slept in, shoved your feet into a pair of tennis shoes by the door, and ran outside.

Sitting on his motorcycle in the shadow between two streetlights, was a rider in all black, his head detached from his shoulders and sitting on the handlebars. His body seemed to be twisting to look behind him while his head seemed intent on your building.

You gasped, and his body snapped toward your direction, lifting his head and tucking it under his arm, shielding it from view as if trying to protect it from getting stolen.

“Either I’m dreaming, or you’re a…” you paused, searching your mind for an appropriate word before awkwardly settling on, “…not human.” Your voice was soft, more curious than frightened or accusatory as you approached him.

He swallowed, an odd sight since his head and body both moved, but not quite in sync with each other.

“You are…” he shifted uncomfortably, “not dreaming.”

“Oh. I don’t think I understand what’s going on.”

“I can explain if you wish.”

“I’d like that,” you said, then shivered, pulling your sweatshirt closer, “but it’s pretty cold out here. Do you want to maybe come upstairs to talk?”

His eyes widened. It belatedly occurred to you that you were inviting a total stranger, who had multiple times been around when you had some sort of misfortune and had admitted to not being human, up to your apartment in the middle of the night, but shrugged. Something about him made you feel safe; you trusted him despite how little you knew.

“That would be…nice.” He said hesitantly, slowly rising off the bike and walking toward you, moving as if he was afraid you would panic and run. Quickly, you led him inside, just in case one of your neighbors decided on a late night walk, and gestured to your couch.

“Do you want any tea or coffee?” you asked.

He shook his head and you nodded and filled the kettle to make yourself a cup. He settled himself on one end of your couch, lanky legs folding surprisingly gracefully under him, and placed his head between his knees. Clutching your steaming mug, you sat on the opposite end and mirrored his criss-crossed pose.

“So…” you started, full of questions.

“I am happy to explain as much or as little as you would like,” he began, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, his pinkie visible above the line of sever.

“I guess, let’s start with who you are.”

“My name is William DeLoe. As for what I am, since I’m sure that will be your next inquiry. I’ve never quite figured that out for certain. Some sort of ghost, I think. A bit like the headless horseman of Sleepy Hollow, I suppose, except I can find my head and have no horse.” He laughed.

“Okay…” you frowned, puzzling through the information. “You have a motorcycle instead though right? How did you end up like this? Or, I guess you don’t have to answer that if it’s too uncomfortable.”

He shrugged. “It’s not so bad. I guess you’re right about my bike, I’ve never thought of that. I died in a crash back in the 60s. I’m pretty sure the guy that ran me off the road meant to do it, but I never proved it. Anyway, after I died, I woke up and just…kept going. Figured out eventually that if I’m careful, I can wear my head for short periods of time, which helps, but for the most part I carry it around.”

You were fascinated by his story and wanted to ask more questions but one thing was nagging at your mind first. “You keep showing up in my life, especially when I’m having…bad luck…”

He nodded. “I know what you’re thinking, but I promise, your house fire and car crash were not my fault. Sometimes I get this, sense about a person or a place, and I know I need to keep an eye on them. Usually, it’s someone who’s about to die; the dead spirits who struggle to cross over sometimes it helps that I’m around to talk them through dying and all.”

“So I’m marked to die and just haven’t yet?”

“No. I mean I don’t think. You felt different. I’ve been trying to keep an eye on you and protect you.”

“Oh. Well thank you, then I guess.”

“Yeah, well I’m pretty sure it’s my job so…” he rubbed the back of his neck again. “But you don’t make it easy, constantly trying to go back into terrible situations for your...stupid…cat…” as he spoke, you noticed that Morwen had snuck up on the pair of you and was rubbing against his head, butting into it and shifting it around his lap.

You couldn’t help but laugh as she pushed him aside and perched herself where it had been, delicately washing a paw and purring.

“I’m sorry,” you said through barely suppressed giggles as he stared up at the ceiling from his new angle. “On the plus side, that means she likes you…”

He huffed and righted himself, moving his head to the arm of the sofa, since Morwen refused to budge. “It’s fine. I’m glad she approves. She obviously means the world to you.”

You blushed lightly. “Yeah, it’s cliché, but we rescued each other. I was in a pretty bad place when I found her, sleeping in my engine when she was a kitten and…well I couldn’t go anywhere if I had to take care of her, you know.”

He bowed his shoulders in what you thought was a nod. “I’m sorry to hear that you went through that. Are you still…?”

“No, I eventually got out of that low spot and got things under control. It’s been about two years since I had any…thoughts.”

“Well then,” he lifted his head and brought it to level with Morwen. “Thank you for guarding them until I came along,” he said seriously. “The world would be darker and less beautiful without them. And my unlife much emptier, lesser.”

You blushed, ducking your head. “I can’t remember the last time someone said something nice like that about me,” you muttered. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you came into my life. And not just because you saved me, twice. I don’t know you well, yet, but I’d really like to.”

“Especially since, for a headless dude, you’re really cute,” you added under your breath.

Faster than you would have thought possible, and much to Morwen’s distress, he leaned forward, practically folding in half and holding his head so you were nearly nose to nose and staring intently into your eyes. Absently, you noted that his eyes were a beautiful, almost amber shade of brown.

“Do you mean that?” he asked, softly, almost breathlessly. “All of it? Even the part you hoped I didn’t hear?”

You blushed even brighter, and stuttered. “Yeah, I guess I did. I dunno.” You tried to shrug it off, but even still he smiled wildly, eyes sparkling.

He leaned back and Morwen squawked in indignation before jumping down to the floor to wash herself, pointedly.

“I look forward to it,” he said. “But as your semi-official guardian ghost, I’m sending you bed tonight. It wouldn’t do any good for us to get to know each other if you’re too tired and fall down the stairs to your death in the morning.”

You laughed. “I highly doubt that would happen, but I’ll take your point anyway. Let me walk you out first?”

He nodded. You rose, setting your half-empty mug on the kitchen counter as you slipped your shoes back on. When you turned around, he was standing surprisingly close to you, head tucked under one arm.

“Before we go, since we won’t be able to talk outside, in case someone spots me, may I try something?” he asked, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

You felt your heart beat faster, and nodded quickly, not trusting your suddenly dry mouth to form words.

He grinned and lifted his head to be level with your own. Holding it slightly forward, he gently pressed his lips to yours, kissing you with a gentleness that seemed almost hesitant. Smiling into the kiss, you returned the pressure of his lips with your own. As quickly as it began, the moment was over, and he pulled back, staring at you with adoration.

“That was…wonderful. I think there will need to be more, practice, to work out how kissing should be done best when one person’s head is not attached to their body, but we have an excellent starting point.”

You laughed. “I look forward to our experiments. And hey, at least you won’t have to bend down to meet my height.”

He chuckled in response. Reluctantly, holding hands with one another, you walked down your buildings staircase and all the way back to his motorcycle. He released you and casually, gracefully swung one leg over it.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, longingly. “Until the next time we see each other.” He pressed another sweet kiss to your cheek.

“Don’t wait so long next time,” you said, teasingly. “I like seeing you better when I’m having a good day than a bad one.”