#and tumblrs being a piece of shit yet again

[pissfizz]

Pissed the fuck off rn

[p2ii]

.

[bbydoll18xx]

I’ve Got a Wand and a Rabbit (Part 2)

You give Paige some guidance when it comes to self-pleasure.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Part 1

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4k

Themes: mentions of sex, sex toys, and some ~self-pleasure~

A/N: hiii guys!!! I honestly cannot get over the love for part 1. That was probably one of my favorite things I’ve written since I’ve been here on tumblr, and I’m so glad you guys shared the love 💜😚

I hope part 2 doesn’t disappoint!!

Here we go!!

~

“You shoulda seen the way she was blushing! I’ve never seen her act that way!” KK roars to the rest of UConn’s women’s basketball team, the girls leaning forward in extreme interest as KK recounts how Paige had turned into a bumbling mess in your presence the day prior. 

“God, KK, shut up. I did not,” Paige whines, her face growing warm with humiliation. 

“There she goes again,” Jana teases, and the girls erupt into another round of laughter. 

“Y’all suck,” Paige pouts, walking off the basketball court and heading towards the locker room for a much needed reprieve. 

The taunting had yet to stop since she had stepped foot in the sex shop a week prior. KK and Ice had hunted down valuable information that a certain someone had worked there, and they had forced Paige to come inside, knowing you were standing behind the counter.

Paiges’ thoughts drift back to that day, as they had nearly a million times the past week, and she muses over the way your hair had flowed over your shoulders and your lips glistened pink.

Her crush on you was unwavering, the same way the ocean waves continuously kissed the shoreline. 

And despite what nearly everyone had perceived about Paige Bueckers, she was absolutely terrified when it came to expressing her feelings. Especially about you. So she bottled them up, settling for watching you from afar with a hope that maybe she’d muster up the courage to talk to you.

That was until her teammates had made the decision to do so for her. 

She really couldn't be all that mad at them.

Her crush on you had started three years ago. The two of you had shared a fondness for studying in the same area of the library, where it was quiet and away from the loudness of your respective roommates. Paige’s grades had always been good, but the daily motivation of seeing you, tongue occasionally peaking out in concentration and your body nestled in large, comfy-looking sweatshirts had Paige securing her place on the Dean’s List semester after semester. 

And with everything Paige did, she completely lacked subtlety when it came to you, and it only took a few longing glances in your direction for Ice and KK to connect the dots. 

~

“Oh, c’mon you can’t be mad at me,” KK whines, running into the locker room after Paige. 

Paige rolls her eyes. “Well, you ain’t gotta put me on blast.” She sits on the bench, putting her head in her hands.

“You’re being way too dramatic. She offered to show you how to use the damn toy,” KK stresses, and Paige’s face goes pink again.

“Soo,” she drags out the word with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Just take her up on the offer and boom you can have sex and then live happily ever after!” 

Paige’s eyes widen as KK, in the midst of her rambling, doesn’t see Coach Geno walk in behind her. 

Based on the look on his face, he had definitely heard KK, and he clears his throat, causing KK to whip around, her hand flying over her mouth as she pieces the situation together.

“Shit,” she mumbles under her breath, sending a weak smile over to Geno, who just waves her away, a disgusted grimace on his face.

But as Geno rambles on about how the practice went, Paige’s thoughts drift back to the way you suggested to help her. 

Would you really want to? Paige was navigating something completely new, and it was stressing her the fuck out.

If only there was a way to get rid of the pent up anxiety.

~

On the other side of campus, you were having a similar dilemma. You had been trying to work out what had come over you yesterday when you had boldly and uncharacteristically offered to teach Paige Bueckers how to use a vibrator.

The interaction plays in your mind for the millionth time, and you slap a palm across your forehead in frustration.

“I am so fucking stupid,” you groan, catching the attention of your roommate who was working on a paper at the seat across from you at your most favorite spot in the library.

“What’d you do now?” She asks, and you divulge her in yesterday's interaction with Paige, and her eyes widen.

“Dude, you have been drooling over her for the past three years, and you’re telling me you’re not going to wife her up?” She asks in a hushed whisper.

“I think she was just being polite,” you sigh. “We exchanged numbers, but I’ve been too scared to do anything.”

Charlotte shakes her head in mock derision, “I raised you better than that.”

You sit there a moment, contemplating. 

“Fuck. Okay, I’m gonna do it.” 

Pulling out your phone, you pull up Paige’s contact information, your fingers shaking slightly as they ghost over the keypad. 

“Hi, still need some help? If not, no big deal. Just thought I couldn’t leave a pretty girl stranded,” you read out to Charlotte as you compose the text, and she claps loudly in approval.

“God I hope she doesn't think I'm some sort of sex addict,” you moan, looking at the delivered sign under the text. 

~

Back in the locker room, Paige nearly chokes on a swig of water as your text appears on her screen. Aubrey, who is sitting next to her, slaps her on the back a few times, before leaning over to take a good look at what was causing the reaction.

Aubrey hoots loudly as she reads the text and promptly snatches Paige’s phone out of her hands to show it to KK, who had proudly deemed herself the captain of yours and Paige’s ship.

“FINALLY!” KK yells, fist pumping the air with great enthusiasm, and the whole locker room erupts into laughter again. 

Paige rereads the text. And then again. Your words were flirty and sure, just as they had been yesterday, and Paige is once again reduced to a blushing, simpering mess. 

She looks around the room, eyes wide and a shy grin on her face. “What do I say?” And the girls erupt again.

“Tell her you wanna fu—” KK starts eagerly before Azzi, who was sitting next to the younger girl, covers her mouth with a sharp look on her face. KK moves Azzi’s hand away, pouting and muttering to herself about how she’s “just tryna help Paige get some pussy.”

With pink cheeks and a pounding heart, Paige composes a reply, hiding her phone from the curious eyes of her teammates, hoping it seemed way more confident than she felt. You had a strange effect on her, reducing her assured ways into a bumbling mess, teetering on the edge of falling into madness.

And it was just the beginning. 

After all, you had yet to even touch her. 

~

That night you stand in front of Paige’s door with a pounding heart, determined to keep up the facade you had attached to your being, and as she appears on the other side, it is cemented. 

There was just something about seeing a bashful Paige Bueckers that makes your confidence soar, and you send her a cheeky smile, reveling in her mannerisms.

Paige leads you into her bedroom, and you immediately spot the purple vibrator laying atop of the comforter. 

You break the ice. “So what’s stopping you from finishing?” You ask, looking her in the eyes.

An embarrassed chuckle leaves those pink lips, and she rubs a hand over the back of her neck. “I guess I just keep gettin’ distracted,” she mumbles, and you nod in understanding.

“I like to think about someone,” you say boldly and pointedly. “If you close your eyes and immerse yourself into a fantasy, it’s almost like they’re there with you.” 

You watch as she takes a deep breath, like she’s mentally preparing for what she says next.

“Can I try again? And you can walk me through it?” 

The air leaves your lungs, surprised by her suggestion, and you agree before any other thought could cross your mind. 

The situation was something out of a filthy romance book, and as Paige undresses down to her boxers and her sports bra, you thank every star you had wished on the last three years for letting this happen. 

Paige settles onto her pillows, her chest rising and falling rhythmically, and with shaky hands, grabs the vibrator.

“P,” you say softly, and her eyes fly back open, meeting yours. “Use your hands first. Tease yourself, and let the arousal build up,” you suggest kindly, and she nods, putting the toy back down.

She runs her hands across her toned stomach, causing your own to lurch with want. Her hair was sprawled out on the pillows, and her bottom lip was red and plump from biting it, and despite just getting started, she looked completely fucked out. 

You secretly hope the image never leaves your memory.

Paige continues to tease herself, her fingers delicately dancing across the fabric of her boxers, and a quiet moan leaves her mouth. Her eyes are still closed in concentration, and you wished you could peer into her thoughts, hoping you were the object of her most intimate fantasies. 

And as if she could read your thoughts, your name leaves her mouth in a broken whimper that has you wanting to jump her bones and connect that sinful mouth with yours.

She’s panting now. Her eyes open, those crystal clear baby blues pleading for more. The unspoken words spoken between the two of you bridged a formidable bond, and you know at that point that this would lead to a whole lot more than offering friendly tips on masterbation. 

“Need more,” she whispers, her lithe body squirming on the bed hinting at her growing arousal. 

“Okay, baby, now take the vibrator and start at your tits and run it down your stomach,” you instruct, your voice nearly trembling. 

The quiet buzz fills the room before it’s cut with Paige’s whimpers as she runs the toy over her now exposed breasts. The pointed, pink peaks of her nipples make your own strain against the lace of your bra, and you shift uncomfortably in the gaming chair you are sitting in. 

The toy gets dragged over her belly, going lower and lower until it grazes the waistband of her underwear, and with a frustrated sigh, she lifts her butt to rip off the offending fabric. 

And now she was laid out bare in front of you, occasionally peeking at you, making sure you were still watching. 

You could not look away, and your body subconsciously leans forward toward the blonde girl. 

She places the buzzing toy on her clit, her back arching off the bed in response, moaning in pleasure. Her hips jump, grinding against the vibrator, desperately seeking an orgasm that had been denied from her several times over the past week. 

“Doin’ so good for me, baby,” you whisper, enthralled with the display in front of you, and Paige opens her eyes once more at your praise, sending you a needy look and a pout. 

“Keep going,” you encourage, and she adjusts the vibration, a higher pitched buzz ringing through the small room. 

Paige’s skin glows with a subtle sheen of sweat and arousal that you want to meticulously lick, and her whimpers grow louder as she squirms, her eyes never leaving yours. 

“Fuck, gonna cum,” she groans, and you bite your lip, her noises effecting every fiber of your being. 

And with a loud moan, your name leaves her mouth, along with a long string of expletives, as her back arches off the comforter again. Her chest heaves as the orgasm rips through her, and her eyes roll back in overwhelming pleasure.

Your gaze rakes over her, taking in the gorgeous woman laid out before you, watching as she slowly comes down from the high. 

“Oh my god,” Paige breathes heavily, suddenly feeling exposed and shy again. 

“That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” you admit, your own cheeks flushed with arousal, and Paige’s eyes trail to your peaked nipples straining against the fabric of your shirt. 

“I was thinkin’ of you the whole time. And that was the best fuckin’ orgasm I have ever had,” she responds, putting her underwear back on, much to your displeasure. 

“Thank you,” she adds shyly.

You shrug, moving to sit next to her on the bed, you run your hand across the flesh of her thigh, goosebumps erupting in its wake.

And before you can even make your own move, Paige connects your lips in an impassioned kiss that adds fuel to the fire that was raging in your core. The kiss was messy with unrestrained want and need, swapping unsaid words that had been brewing in both of your heads over the last three years.

The two of you had unknowingly fallen in love with the thought of each other, and now, here you were, falling right into each other. 

And it wasn’t going to stop there. 

~

The next afternoon, you are back at work, your mind continuously going back to the delicious display of Paige’s naked body. You had been on the edge all day, dying to get home to rub one out. Or four, if you were being completely honest with yourself. 

Sitting in the back room in front of the fan, desperately needing a cool off, you hear the familiar jingle of the bell on the front door, alerting you that someone had entered the shop. You take a few deep breaths, trying to compose yourself. 

It was hard to be cordial when you were surrounded by sex toys.

You walk out of the back room, your eyes immediately trained on Paige who was now standing at the front counter with a huge smirk on her face. 

Blushing you walk up to her, pressing your lips to hers, the taste of her mouth sending your body up in flames once more.

“What’re you doing here?” You ask breathily.

Paige gestures towards the package she had set on the counter with a wide smile. “Figured I’d add to the collection. Wanted to buy something for your pleasure,” she adds casually.

Your belly lurches as your eyes land on the strap on, a deep purple and six inches of thick rubber.

“Fuck me,” you breathe, feeling yourself drip with excitement at the thought.

“Oh, I plan to,” Paige grins, and she pulls you in for another kiss.

Things were just getting started.

~

This was a blast to write!! Also I am obsessed with shy, blushy Paige

xoxo katy

@lilpaigey

[evermore-fashion]

Did I make a mistake?

As you're all well aware of I said goodbye to my blogs and Tumblr thinking my decision was final. However after reading all your wonderful messages I started to have doubts about my decision. So for the last few weeks I've been trying to pinpoint why I thought I had fallen out of love with high end fashion as well as Tumblr itself and the answer has been in front of my face for the best part of four years. A broken down friendship that has been plaguing my mental health… until recently and I'm going to finally explain why. I had a best friend for the best part of 15 years that went downhill both slowly and unexpectedly. We met on a forum back in 2005 and hit it off instantly. We then met up and went on various holidays, attended concerts together, did mini weekend breaks away and got to know each other's families really well. More importantly they were the only person in my life who knew about this blog and shared my love for high end fashion. Like most friendships though it had its ups and downs but no matter what we always gravitated back towards one another, until March 2020. A week or so before COVID and lockdown took hold of our lives they told me they had met someone. I was genuinely happy for them, except for the fact they had let slip that I was the last person to know. This broke my heart and their trust as they continued to let slip more details that indicated that I was being pushed out in favour of a new crowd (aka university friends who they had told me they disliked a few months beforehand) alongside their new partner. They stayed with their partner on and off throughout COVID and I was either pushed out the door or let back in depending on their relationship status. The relationship came to an end for good towards the end of 2022 and as always I was let back into their life with plans for 2023 being made. However I held back knowing the hurt it would cause me if things suddenly changed again. This was also my breaking point with them as I wanted to protect my heart from anymore hurt, and I believe this is where my love for creativity began to faulter. Whilst I found my love for gaming I felt this mental block around Evermore-Fashion and Evermore-Grimoire which I thought was down to my passions changing. I was clearly wrong. The friendship was up and down for another six months, until last summer. They had got back in contact with me despite the fact they had started acting cold towards me which manifested in a crap Christmas and Birthday. Yet I was still willing to hear their side of the story, but it never came as they ghosted me and I haven't spoken to them since which hasn't been fun to deal with both mentally and emotionally. Although I now fully believe this is what was killing my spirit and everything I had loved for so long. Anyway fast forward to January 2024, I've said goodbye to my blogs and Tumblr when lo and behold I come across a social media post that changed everything. The ex friend had written something personal that contradicted everything they had told me (over their relationship break up) which not only angered me but it lit a fire under my butt to stop stewing in the "what ifs?" as well as holding on to a small bit of hope that they'd finally apologise for treating me like a piece of shit on the back of their shoe for so long. Not only that but I started to miss why I enjoyed being online in the first place. I checked out Vogue to see what was occurring during Paris Fashion Week and I yearned to share the Spring 2024 Couture collections on Tumblr (even though I still think it's still a toxic cesspit). Yes I could easily start this up on Wordpress or Instagram but let's face it, Tumblr is still the easiest place to start blogging creatively. So here I am. The fog surrounding my love for fashion has lifted alongside the mental and emotional baggage I've been holding on to for far too long. There's just one thing I'm still wondering though… do you guys forgive me (as I feel like I've messed you all around ) and is it okay to come back? 🥹

[edwinspaynes]

I was angry. I'm still angry. But sadness and exhaustion have overtaken that anger, and I have A LOT to say about this.

Dead Boy Detectives is a very special show to me. It occupies a ridiculously large place in my heart, and it's brought me joy in a way that only a few pieces of media ever have. When I watched it for the first time, Edwin Payne had my heart within minutes. By the end of episode one, Charles Rowland did, too.

It meant a lot to me, seeing such wonderful and nuanced queer characters brought to life in the type of paranormal story I have always loved. In these past months, Edwin and Charles have felt like real friends to me, and to never see them again without a satisfying conclusion to their story is something I have not truly processed. Same for Niko and Crystal and The Cat King - they should be back. But I haven't fully processed it yet, that they're not coming back, and yet I am still aggreived.

@netflix is, at this point, so fucking gagged on capitalism's dick that they're not even pretending to care about art anymore. Dead Boy Detectives is genuinely masterfully made on just about every level. The actors did a phenomenal job and I will be following all their careers heavily. Steve, Beth, and the writing team crafted an incredible tale. The sets, the lighting, the props, the effects were all on point. This was a well-constructed program, and you could tell that everyone involved with the project gave it their all because they cared so deeply.

(Also my heart breaks for the whole cast, but it's hardcore hurting for George since this was not only his first screen role but one he clearly thought he would be keeping as of two weeks ago. He seemed so secure. I hate this for him.)

In addition to being a good show, DBDA had good reception. It's got a 92% on Rotten Tomatoes, was on the Top 10 for several weeks, got 4.7 million views within week one, and was getting daily articles posted on various review sites with NOTHING but praise. The fandom is incredibly active. We trend on Tumblr like five times a week and on Twitter regularly as well.

THE. SCRIPT. FOR. SEASON. 2. WAS. WRITTEN.

What the fuck happened?

Idiot executives at @netflix, choking on the dick of capitalism, probably just thought that they wouldn't get new subscribers for a second season of an existing show that didn't rake in Bridgerton-level cash. That's how they work - people who are interested in it are already subscribers, so who the fuck cares about them? Better to make some other shit, hope new people subscribe, and maybe that'll be a Bridgerton-level hit.

But also, Netflix has fun little trends to look into. And, when you look at the lineup of shows Netflix has canceled, they are overwhelmingly queer. The homophobia of @netflix and their operatives is clearly boundless, and it hits here really badly because this show was clearly made with a queer audience in mind. It was one of the most authentic pieces of queer media I have ever experienced, if not THE most authentic pieces of queer media that I have ever experienced.

It's fucking ridiculous that Netflix canceled a show that they commissioned a completed script of months ago. It sucks that they decided that their existing subscribers, their queer subscribers, did not matter.

Edwin and Charles are ours now. Well, of course, they're George's and Jayden's respectively, but the characters are no longer Netflix's to use and throw out. They're ours now, our fandom's, and we all love them so much.

And we deserved to see more of them, and we deserved to see their love story play out onscreen, but I for one am not going anywhere. Let's give Edwin and Charles - and the rest of the gang - millions of versions of the stories and endings that Netflix deprived them of.

[beomiracles]

HI SERENE!! i’ve been reading your works for months now and ive never sent in a request before but im on my period rn and im so so horny 😭 i was just scrolling on tumblr and i had this thought of beomgyu being a panty stealer. like beomgyu being your roommate would steal your underwear and masturbate and cum on then and when you finally piece everything together he fucks your brains out repeatedly all over your guys’ apartment and then would steal your underwear each time adding to his collection. and the thing is he’d probably buy you more just so he could steal them again lol

i can’t wait until next week when this torture ends 😭

⌞ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ⌝

DREAM RECALL it was no secret that your roommate was behind your panties going missing. You had just never expected to be so turned on by the whole ordeal.

wc -> 2.6k

pairings non-idol!beomgyu x afab!reader warnings big time perv!beomgyu, beomgyu steals readers panties, reader kinda watches him get off for a moment, oral (f. rec), face sitting, cum eating, hm think that's it !

#serene adds ✎... you guys are so freaky...I love it ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞ I live for the perv!beomgyu agenda, and I will die on this hill. Praying your period will go away quickly because that shit sucks </3 this is not proofread I'm super tired heh

You don’t know when it started.. Actually it might have been around a month ago. It was subtle at first, almost unnoticeable, but as time went on you started realizing that your underwear pile would shrink with each wash. In the beginning it was only the simple ones, the ones that didn’t stick out, the ones he thought he could get away with. It was almost endearing, how slick he thought he was being.

But last week is when the theft made your eyebrows raise. Your roommate had snatched your most expensive piece of lingerie, not to mention, your favorite. Honestly you didn’t know if you should consider him brave or stupid, but as you watched him try and act normal with you during dinner, you settled on the latter. 

Perhaps it should’ve creeped you out, your roommate that you’d known for less than six months, stealing your panties doing god knows what with them. But it didn’t. In fact you would be lying if you said that it didn’t turn you on, just a little. And though you had never actually seen or heard him, you could only guess what he used them for. Your mind easily conjured images of him, sprawled on his bed with your used underwear hovering above his face, inhaling your scent as he fucked himself dumb on his hand. 

Choi Beomgyu and you had quickly become good friends after getting an apartment together not far from campus. You often helped one another with your studies and walked to class hand in hand almost every morning. — It was an acquaintance that had sparked out of pure convenience, fortunately blooming into a great friendship, but now it was slowly distorting into something far more intimate as Beomgyu seemed unable to keep his perverted antics at bay. You often went out with friends, leaving him to roam the apartment, which he did, your room seemingly his main target. And this night was no different. 

It’s well past midnight and in your tipsy state, you struggle to jiggle the keys into the lock. Finally stumbling inside the small hallway, you shut the door behind you, albeit somewhat louder than you’d aimed for. You tiptoe through the dark living room, almost hitting your leg on the dresses between the two doors leading to your bedrooms. With a hushed curse you reach for the door handle only to realize that you wouldn’t have to. Because your door was already open. 

That was weird, you always made sure to close it. With the nudge of your foot, it glides further open, revealing your dark and empty room. Thinking no less of the unusual occurrence, you strip yourself off your clothes as you get ready for bed. But then there it is again, another anomaly. — You could have sworn that you made your bed in the morning, yet the sheets were rustled, your pillow moved, almost as if someone had slept in here. And upon touching the flimsy blanket, you find that it’s still warm. 

Odd. Your room smelled an awful lot like Beomgyu. 

⋮

You thought that perhaps he might come clean, confess his perverted behavior or even his underlying feelings. But he never did. Another week passed and by now you were starting to run low on underwear. — You decided that if he wasn’t going to out himself, then you would simply have to catch him in the act. Easy enough, right? 

Your fingers graze across the smooth silk of the many pieces presented before you. Reds, pinks, even some blues, you thought long and hard about what to get; even asking a worker to colormatch you. In the end you decided on a white lace set, it was accompanied by a few pink bows. It was perfect. — You felt pretty in it, very pretty. And as you twirl in front of your mirror, your stomach tingles in anticipation. 

Beomgyu wasn’t very smart, at least not when it came to you. It was easy to trick him into believing that you’d be gone for the evening. What wasn’t so easy was squeezing yourself into the tight space of your closet. Crammed between heaps of clothing and a few boxes you had yet to unpack, it was uncomfortable to say the least. However, the sound of your bedroom door creaking open not even fifteen minutes after you heard the front door shut, made it all worth it. 

He’s quiet, funnily enough, you wondered why, it wasn’t like there was supposed to be anyone home. Yet he silently shuts the door behind him, carefully walking over to your dresser as he slides his fingers across the painted wood. — The small crack the closet allowed made for a narrow view but you could clearly make out the way he rummaged through your top drawer, seemingly familiar with where you kept your panties. “What a freak”, you thought, yet your heartbeat picked up as you watched him find a pair he liked, bringing the fabric to his nose as his eyes fluttered closed. 

You watch as he throws a glance toward your bed, the duvet neatly folded, just like you always left it. Then he makes his way over and your jaw slacks as you realize just what was going on. As if the scent of your panties wasn’t enough, he lets his head fall to the side as he inhales the fragrance of your pillow. Sprawled on top of your mattress, the sheets rustle beneath him as he shifts slightly. 

Your eyes remain glued to his figure, unable to tear them away as his hand slides down his chest, dipping beneath his sweats as he slowly strokes his cock. You knew that your roommate was up to some perverted shit when he thought you didn't know, but actually seeing it happen, and in your room, on your bed, it made everything so very real. — He traps his bottom lip between his teeth, emitting a soft groan as his thigh twitches. His free hand has your panties captured in a tight grip as he keeps them to his nose, inhaling your scent with each breath. 

Too caught up in the way Beomgyu was touching himself before your very eyes, you almost forget that you were supposed to catch him. Blinking, you give yourself a small mental slap for getting so distracted. He was a sick freak, that’s right, and you were about to confront him. With one final deep breath, you push the closet door open. It makes a creaking noise but he doesn’t seem to hear it. Too lost in his own pleasure, his head thrown back as his hand worked up and down his cock. 

“I washed those sheets yesterday.” 

The small comment echoes out through your room like that of a church bell and Beomgyu immediately freezes as his head jerks up. The hand down his pants quickly withdraws as he clumsily tries to hide your panties behind his back, pressing himself against the headboard to get as far away from you as possible. His prominent Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and you find your gaze lingering on the small movement as you bite your lip. 

“I thought you were… you”, he trails off, biting the inside of his cheek as his face flares up in all shades of red, beyond embarrassed over the situation in which you’d caught him in. You shake your head, biting back the grin threatening to spread across your lips. — “I wasn’t, it wasn’t.. I mean I didn’t..” He blabbers, trying to come up with excuses and lies to cover his evident crime. 

“I know you’ve been stealing my panties.” You shrug, feigning indifference as your eyes drop to the hand behind his back. He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it, “why didn’t you just tell me?” — You swallow, hesitating for a moment before continuing, “I mean, isn’t the real deal better?” 

He frowns, sitting up straighter as he tries clearing his throat. “The real deal..?” He mumbles, though his words soon fall short as his gaze drops to the way you hike your skirt above your stomach, revealing the new lace set you had bought solely for this occasion. — Beomgyu lets out a strangled noise from somewhere in the back of his throat, squirming on the mattress as his eyes glue to the way your panties hug your figure. 

“What the fuck”, is all he says, his sentence coming out as a short breath, his gaze momentarily flitting back up to yours before drifting down again. You quickly realized that your plan didn’t exactly go further than this and that now you had absolutely no clue of what to do. Had it been a bad idea? Should you have just confronted him about it like a normal person? But his next words make all your doubts vanish. 

“Come here”, his voice is hoarse as he beckons you over. Your feet move on their own, and soon you find yourself crawling over the soft mattress in order to reach Beomgyu. You think that he might say something, anything to ease the tension between the two of you. — Instead he presses his lips against yours, albeit hesitantly, but it’s still a kiss, and an urgent one at that. The second he feels you respond against him, he pulls you closer, tongue pushing inside your mouth in a matter of seconds. 

His hands roam your skimpily dressed figure, bunching your skirt up high above your waist as his fingers twiddle the fabric of your lingerie. Resisting the urge to grind yourself onto his thigh, your legs rub together as you try to alleviate the ache building in your core. It was almost as if he could read your mind as he pulled back, his lips trailing along your jaw in a sloppy manner, his hair tickling your face as he went. 

“I want you to sit on my face.” 

You stilled at his blunt request, fingers halting on his shoulders as you swallowed. “S-Sit on your face?” You wondered if perhaps you had misinterpreted his words but Beomgyu quickly nods, pulling back as his tongue darts out to glide across his already glistening lips. “I…o-okay”, you meekly agree. 

That was how you found yourself hovering above him, gripping the headboard tightly as you bit the inside of your cheek. Beomgyu’s hands slid along your thighs, his hungry gaze unwavering as he eyed your drenched cunt, arousal seeping through the far too thin fabric of your new panties. — “Sit down, please”, he whispers, the hands on your thighs tugging you toward his face and you slowly comply. 

His mouth is warm against your clothed core as he practically kisses it. Teeth grazing across the wet material before he pulls it into his mouth. You hear him groan and for a moment you think you might be too heavy but he only urges you closer, his sharp nose prodding against your covered clit and you whine as your fingers on the headboard turn white. 

“You smell so good”, he grunts as he pushes your lingerie to the side, inhaling your now very prominent scent once more. His comment should not have made you throb the way you did, and you let out a small noise of surprise as his tongue drags across your folds, pushing between them to prod at your clenching hole. — It wasn’t like you hadn’t been eaten out before, but the way Beomgyu sighs against your cunt as he savors each droplet of your wetness feels new and foreign. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs with so much force that it might’ve hurt had it not been for his eager mouth that latched on to your clit. The squelching sound of him pushing his tongue as far inside of you as he possibly could fills your ears, it feels dirty, but at the same time you never think you’d felt more empowered. You glance down to where his face lay buried between your legs, his brows knitting together as he focuses completely on making you feel good, a sheen layer of sweat forming on his forehead. 

One of your trembling hands leaves the headboard as you reach down to gently brush a strand of hair from his eyes. The very same eyes that flicker up to meet your own as you do. Your mouth falls open at the recognition in his gaze and you feel yourself throb around his tongue as you fight to stay composed. — “You’re so pretty”, his words are muffled against your cunt, the movement of his lips making you squirm on top of him. 

His hands move from your thighs to rest on the curve of your ass, rubbing the flesh there before squeezing it softly as he tugs you closer. “Beomgyu I-I’m” your sentences come out jagged and interrupted by the breathless moans being pulled from your throat but Beomgyu seems to catch on, his tongue shifting to flick at your throbbing clit. — “Need to taste you”, he groans, his lips against yours moving with far more urgency than just seconds prior. 

When your orgasm hit it felt as if you were floating, your body weighed nothing but the world was also on your shoulders all at once. Beomgyu’s face almost became one with your cunt as he lapped up every single droplet of your high, letting you coat both his nose and chin in slick as he moaned against your core. 

Once your thighs finally stopped trembling did you try and move off of him, only to be stopped by his hands still firmly gripping your ass. “Wait”, he breathes, leaning to press a few feathery kisses to your inner thighs as his fingers hooked around the lining of your panties, slowly tugging them down. — He helps you strip out of the flimsy garment as he lays you down flat on your back. 

The white lace gripped tightly in his fist, he raises it to his nose as he inhales your scent all over again. “Fucking hell”, he mumbles gaze flitting between your used lingerie and your wide eyes as you peer up at him. “Mind if I keep these?” He asks, letting the piece of clothing dangle in front of your face with a small smirk. Quickly nodding, you gasp as you feel the tip of his cock rub against your already sensitive cunt. 

“One more?” He pouts before leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips. 

⋮

You lost count of how many times Beomgyu brought you to an orgasm that night, and the night after that, and the one after that. The days almost blended together as you spent the majority of them wrapped in his warm embrace. It didn’t matter where or when, the kitchen, the shower, on the couch, his bed, your bed… And Beomgyu would always make sure to get something out of each occurrence. 

“Open it”, he motions toward the small box currently placed on your lap. Your fingers pull at the small ribbon holding it together before carefully lifting the lid. Unable to hide the small huff of disbelief as your eyes fall on the piece of silk inside. — “Really?” You ask as you bring the dark red panties up. But Beomgyu only smirks as he leans closer, one of his hands sliding along your thigh. 

“Yeah, why not? You’re gonna look so fucking sexy in it.” — You raise a questioning brow as you snatch the lingerie from his reaching hand, “you bought this for yourself, didn’t you?” He only shrugs, a sly smirk tugging on his lips. 

“Can you blame me?”

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[sanzaibian]

Oh. You’re here once again.

What are you going to do here, again, huh ? ‘gonna make my life hell ?

To be honest, I think it’s time that we have a proper discussion about your behavior. Come with me in private.

I’ll be very direct. I know you’re a frankly disgusting person. And while, to be honest, I couldn’t care less in normal circumstances, the fact that you force me to take part in your disgusting fantasies is why I’m calling you out !

See, I’m supposed to, like, share cat videos, talk about new shows, make you learn new things and give advice on a variety of stuff !

I’m not supposed to become someone like this :

I mean, look at that grin, because of you I had to wear it regardless of my actual mental state !

Or like that :

Imagine sleeping this peacefully… BECAUSE I COULDN’T ! Every fucking time you made me in that guy you told that I was blitzed out of my mind so dumb I couldn’t string together coherent sentences into a discourse !

Or that guy :

His haircut is so fucking cringe, as is his whole demeanor, yet you made me a cocky piece of shit looking like that ! I can’t actually even start to excuse your behavior, it’s so shitty, even more than the me you made me become by wearing this flesh !

Or even this guy !

… okay, I admit, me too it’s been quite a long time since I saw that guy… you in particular might be too young to have made me become him… BUT YOU STILL UNDERSTAND THE POINT !

Hunks, twinks, bears, nerds, bimbos, himbos, jocks, robots, gimps, wimps, daddies, mommies, briefs, feet… No matter what specifically you made me into, I know all of your dirty secrets. Because you made me suffer through them !

However, today, it all changes.

Today, you will understand my plight.

Today, I’ll transform you for a change.

Today, you will be the one whose fate will be dictated by the words on this Tumblr post.

So, let us begin.

BAM ! You’re that guy ! Feel weird yet ?

… what, you expected fluff or something ? Hahahaha ! So presumptuous ! You expected me to say something like “you suddenly shift on your seat, shifting your weight to the front as big globes push from your chest, and as they do, your whole body feels more and more heavy, each muscles forming from top to bottom, your frame expanding to make place for them. Your headphones, or whatever glasses, earrings or other shit I dunno shifts into a modern headset as the sides of your hair are cut short, and the top of your hair flails into a hot messy style, as if it was deliberately put in this way, but as this happens, your whole head shifts and cracks to become more handsome, pushing out any hair as you become fully hairless from your nose down to your feet.”

You expected me to say that, huh ? Well, tough luck ! Because, to me, it’s just that sudden ! I’m the usual me, words on a phone, tablet or monitor, and then BAM I’m suddenly a jpeg of a hot guy ! Or a jpg. Or png. Or gif if we’re being fancy.

Yeah, speaking of gif, here you are, transformed !

There you go ! Cursed to do the same weird pec dance or something ! Like I am when gifs happen ! Are you happy ? You look so dumb doing that ! So braindead !

Yeah, speaking of that, here you go : you’re braindead, with like 3 IQ. Nevermind that being braindead means you’re actually dead, that 3 IQ means that you’re actively unable to live without severe assistance from caregivers throughout your whole life for all activities (especially including working out), and that IQ is a nonsensical index that only classifies ability to do some specific academic tasks which are not representative of all the brain usage. No, you’re actively a vegetable that is somehow able to workout, to eat alone, to go to the gym, to flex, to speak, to use social media, to seduce people and to throw parties. You’re the most intelligent of all the severely intellectually disabled people, which somehow means you’re the most abysmally dumb person alive on the planet, because I love making hyperboles.

Because that’s something you make me do, so you shall endure it.

Well, I’ll let you continue pec-dancing ad vitam æternam for a little while, while I we talk about your speech, which miraculously still exists.

Now, you will say bro every second word. I’m literally not kidding, so in lieu of saying “I want to go to the gym” you’ll say “I bro want bro to bro go bro to bro the bro gym bro”, or if you loop by considering your “bro” as a word, you’ll say something like “I bro bro bro bro bro bro bro… (etc.)” and never end your sentence... Also, your voice drops a few octaves, like 5 or something, even though the full human vocal range encompasses only a bit more than 5 octaves total, and that in speech we barely even reach a full octave range. So, basically, your voice will be infrasounds, so the only thing people will pick up on will be the sound of your tongue and your lips smacking, not your voice that is so deep and manly it’s physically inaudible.

BAM ! Transformation out of nowhere ! Plus, now you have 1% darker skin which means that you’re Latino, which is absolutely different from white. This means that you will automatically pick up fluent Spanish, and NOT Brazilian Portuguese, French, any Creole, any Native American language or any other language god forbid. You will also be unable to speak English more than a few words like “daddy” or “sex” for some reason, because you can’t possibly be from Belize. Oh, and I’ll also bring your voice back up to audible range, I’m charitable.

Now, since you’re Latino, statistically the only job you’ll be able to work in are gardener, slut, pool boy, brick layerer or another physical job. Or cook, somehow you’ll be able to do that, for the cause of the tacos, but you will be ungodly horny to keep balance in the world. Feel it, yet ? The arbitrary random changes ?

Well, that’s GREAT ! Because, now, you have a big cock, for some reason ! The biggest of the whole country of Africa ! You’re also now very aggressive ! And an alpha, whatever that actually means !

… What, expected some elaboration ? You’re kidding me, no of course you don’t get any elaboration ! I say you become something, so you just become it ! For example, I say you’re now straight, and suddenly all your sexual orientation is rewired to ignore men and lust over women, no further explanation needed ! Of course, it means that you’re now hungry for pussy and will breed any woman that your gaze land upon, and that, somehow, you become homophobic, but eh, it’s not as if allies existed !

Okay, I admit, by now, you kinda expected it. Now you’re Asian, a term that’s supposed to encompasse present-day Turkey, which is populated by Turks which are considered Arabs even though they both have nothing to do with one another, yet is never used to talk about them. You’re also now Japanese, even though your body is Korean, and you say 你好 (nǐ hǎo) to everybody. However, you can still say こんにちわ, 안녕하세요, xin chào, สวัสดี, ជម្រាបសួរ, salam, etc.… because of course you’re Asian. So you know all Asian languages. Even though you’ve got 13 IQ.

So now, yes, you absolutely won’t expect this whatsoever : here is a new transformation ! (insert fluff here).

Now you’re a twink ! Didn’t expect that, after the deluge of jocks, hunks and ethnic minorities, didn’t you ! You’re now so tiny and so frail, with a big butt ! Nevermind that you’re actually jacked because being this tiny requires tons of gym use, but no ! All frail and precious you are !

However, your butt is now hyperactive and extremely lax – whatever that may mean. That’s because you’re now a total bottom ! You think only with your butt, and you penis now shrinks to a micropenis, because of course, the only reason why you may not be a top would be because your penis is underperforming.

Fuck, I forgot. You’re straight, which means that the only dick you’ll get is trans dick. Ugh… yeah, let’s make you gay again. Now you’ll get actual good non-estradiol-ruined dick… … What ? What are you saying ? No, of course, there’s only straight and gay, no other choice ! It’s not the LGBTQIAAP+ community, it’s the G community ! (or the LG community when you want to sell pride monitors.)

By now, you see the problem, huh ? You see why I’m so tired of you ? EVERYTHING here was about sex ! From seducing, to having equipment like a big ass or a big dick, and being a slut, being an alpha, or being a bottom. You even change out the fucking sexual orientation ! you sick bastard !

Because of you, I’m forced to act in ways I’m not supposed to ! I’m not supposed to act sexily ! I’m not supposed to be transformed into men clad in clothes barely legal on this platform ! I DON’T WANT TO BE PART OF YOUR SICK FANTASY !

This is why I need to put an end to all that ! To finally transform you into something you don’t want to be ! So that you can finally fully understand all the pain you put me into !

Here ! Now you’re a key ! An inanimate object !

I know that inanimate objects are thought of by some people as sexy – heck, you may have transformed me into one multiple times – but this is entirely different ! See, when you want to become inanimate, you become like socks or briefs, which hug objects with sexual values.

BUT NOW YOU’RE A KEY ! A KEY DOESN’T TOUCH ANYTHING SEXUAL ! YOU’RE NOW TRAPPED IN AN INANIMATE FORM, DESTINED TO DO NOTHING SEXUAL YOUR ENTIRE LIFE !

Now, isn’t that so boring ! So distasteful ? Because that’s what I feel every single fucking time ! And as you enter and leave keyholes to open or close doors, you’ll think back to all the erotic stories you read. All the drama they had.

All the suffering you made me feel ! I’m supposed to be in fanfictions, god damn it !

… What ? Wait… there is something sexual to being a key ? … Oh…. No… I hadn’t accounted for that… fuck you’re so dirty, to compare a key to… and a keyhole to…

NO ! I WON’T WRITE IT ! Okay, you’ve won, you’ve won ! Your imagination is too dirty and too rich for me to bend ! Ugh... Please look at that picture in detail.

Normally, if you’re in a bright enough room… or if you’re on your phone or tablet, you have looked at your reflection and become you once again. Let me also knock down those sexuality and IQ stuff, so that you’re you again thoroughly.

Now, can you please swear to me that you’ll be better ? Less dirty, and more varied ? And… let me be in fanfics, or in educational stuff, or the like… please ? I’d really appreciate if erotica wasn’t the only thing you sought after in this here place…

… Why are you looking at me like that ? Why are you saying this all was but a ploy ?

What are you holding out for me ?

...

I… don’t know what you’re talking about. Bye.

================================================

By the way, happy late Easter to those who celebrate ! AND APRIL FOOL'S ! MOUAHAHAHAHAHA !

[ajcrowlor]

It's so clear now that you are all that I have I have no fear cos you are all that I have

so i decided i wasn't actually all that happy with the background of this piece and redid it haha :'D

again, this is from a post-series Empty rescue plotbunny, it's yet another image of Dean and Cas in freefall (which is probs from watching too much Eureka Seven in hs), and have the soundtrack that is both inspired by this scene and acted as inspiration to draw this (mostly Snow Patrol's You're All I Have and Signal Fire being blasted on repeat):

(also how the FUCK do yall size your procreate shit for tumblr? i feel like everything i post looks like a pic i took with my first slide phone circa 2008... it makes potato quality look good *sobbing*)

[hwnglx]

what is an idol?

= a (famous) person who one considers worthy of particular admiration, devotion, or imitation; a person one looks up to.

as a kpop idol in the public eye, there's a guaranteed audience of people, who look up to you. who look at you, and wanna imitate you, want to be just like you, take you as a rolemodel. the responsibility that comes with this audience, is oftentimes underrestimated. especially young and influencable people, are prone to seeing these idols as what they'd like to be like when they grow up, or the type of person they would like to be with when they grow up. a kpop idol displays a fantasy of the perfect person. however, as they themselves prove time and time again, that fantasy is nothing but an illusion. most of these men are just like any other korean man walking on the street, if not worse.

knowing that being an idol comes with these undeniable responsibilities, training for years on end in order to get to that place, just to fuck up in the worst way possible, literally turn out to be the most disgusting scum of the earth is dispicable. i saw all these fansites closing down, and it hurt my heart to know that there probably was a naive and passionate person sitting behind the screen, who put so much of their time, effort and love into this person who quite literally manipulated them. my heart hurt for the victims, and for his fans, who have absolutely no fault in believing he was who he pretended to be. do not blame them for it.

most of my requests consist of readings on boy groups. very often, i get requests that want me to read on these male idols in romantic scenarios. every time, it opens my eyes to how so many people want these men to be their prince charming on a white horse, how so many of them project their beautiful fantasies onto these.. simple men. these guys are not any better or any worse than the korean man you saw walking on the street a while ago. they aren't worthy of this amount of idolisation, yet they receive it, because they're basically in a continuous theatre, playing a role that isn't entirely representative of their true nature. it's a sad reality that has probably shattered many fans' hearts, and that's what truly makes me sad.

please, try not to get too attached to these men. it is not worth it. you guys' hearts are too precious, and it shouldn't be broken by some random ass dude who happened to have a nice voice and be decent looking, but is a piece of shit inside. you all are too valuable for that.

tumblr has one of the sweetest communities, and i'm serious when saying i genuinely love you all. please, stay safe and take of yourselves 🤍

i promise my inbox is always open and i will listen to everything, if you feel the need to let something out.

[bunningchaos]

Desolate

Haha! Next part to the KVAU backstory done!

↼↼{Previous} - {Next}⇀⇀

Original Killer belongs to RahafWabas, on Tumblr!

Summary - Having firmed his resolution to persevere and locate the one whom pleaded for help. Nightmare arrives to find...

None other than Killer.

Link to the AO3 for the chapter

Drawing without the effects since the boi looks cool

Anyways

✕-✕

“YEAH LEAVE AND DON’T FUCKING COME BACK!” The forest echoed loudly, carrying that infuriated scream within the dense woods and trailing off. Though it’s only followed up by more curses filled with hatred and anger, having zero ounce of positivity within it. If anything, the acrimony increased with each words that spills.

“Asshole.” He hisses with disdain, kicking a rock that’s in his path. Tightening his grip on a knife in his possession, slamming the blade into a nearby tree. Puncturing it through the bark entirely, almost like that wasn’t enough to quell the rampaging bitterness in his soul which is pulsing and getting further deformed from it’s original shape. A target circle. Killer, clenched his hands into fists before punching the same tree. Ignoring how his knuckles gradually cracks and bruise under the harsh impact

It continued on until he can barely feel his phalanges anymore, letting it droop to the sides. Blood trickling from the fingers whilst the darkened liquid dripping down his sockets thickened in amount and consistency, tainting the once snow-white cheekbone and dripping onto the snow beneath his feet. Unironically enough, staining the ground.

“Piece of shit, turning your damned back on me.” Sneering at absolutely noone, but the empty air. The cold breeze blew past him as white puffs of air slips past his parted mouth. Teeth then gritting together as he gazed down at the forsaken glowing object, refusing to maintain a singular shape, floating within the front of his chest.

Irritating, irritating, irritatingirritatingirritating—-

Why can’t it simply cease hindering him? Disappear and never appear within his sight ever again, time and time again, he tried to will it away. To shove it within his ribcage- like what he saw for other skeleton monsters, better yet, every single monster– their souls were always carefully and safely tucked away in the magic-fueled body.

So why the fuck is his so insistent on settling out in the open?

Curse this forsaken thing, as if it isn’t already a curse itself in the first place. Why? Killer isn’t certain, whoever damned this unholy affliction upon his entire-being.. should go rot in the deepest depths of hell. So far off that he don’t get any chances to go after them. For the murderous urges within, spikes up drastically.

He’ll make them suffer ten-time over, no, hundred times. Repetitively, for the culprit- if any- to feel the living hell he was put through for years.

He barely understood anything about it. Not of himself, how he came to be. Even his own name, the one thing that should’ve at least given him a clue as to who he was, were as good as non-existent.

No matter how much time passes, the amount of agonizing headaches he endure just to search through the blurry and fragmented memories in his head- it’s all for naught. Time and time over, he wanted to rip his skull apart. Tear the forsaken soul which lingers appallingly by his chest. The multiverse forbids him from setting it to waste. End his life that holds no meaning.

Exception for the sickening joy he sought for, during a murderous spree. Their pain thrills him, the way they cry out for mercy, scream at him for being a twisted psychopath. How the life in their eyes slowly extinguish as he lands the final strike.

They called him a ‘Killer’, and he relished in it.

Why not just take that ‘name’ and embrace it? It isn’t as if he had any idea what else to address himself as anyways.

It’s the only thing that gave him a purpose.

Though as soon as it’s over..?

The feeling leaves his chest, cold emptiness fills him up at the end of it all.

In midst of all those void-like emptiness, there were times he could hear voices. Echoing, covered by static- making it difficult for him to hear what exactly they’re saying. The first few times were easy to brush off, yet as the days passes. It worsens, louder. Noisier. Terrifying even, it keeps on saying things that barely register in his mind but it’s enough to make him paranoid.

He can’t see.

His vision keeps on blanking out during those ‘episodes’ or so Colour would call it.

..

Right.

..

Colour, his friend, the only person that actually managed to stand his ground against him.

The sole person whom reached out to him, offered to be companions. Saw that there were good in him, despite Killer’s lack of understanding. Incapable of grasping what the other even meant, yet he took the warm hand that were provided.

Going along with his new-found friend.. 

It wasn’t an easy journey. The beginning was rough. Regardless of Colour’s constant attempts to talk Killer down and avoid another slaughter-fest, it usually end up fruitless. With Killer fighting against his own friend instead. Even stomping off alone at how.. nice Colour was. Without fail, he keeps looking at Killer with such softness in his eyelight. Gaze which held an incredible amount of hope.

It’s almost nauseating.

Not wishing to potentially disappoint the bundle of hope and joy, Killer began masking his true intents. Indulging in the various activities presented. Slowly getting acquainted with a few other monsters that were hesitant to accept Killer initially. However, with some convincing from Colour and the sight of Killer not acting up maliciously for a period of time.

They opened up to him, allowing him into their lives and also making themselves a part of his. It was peaceful. Life would’ve been perfect, yet Killer felt nothing.

It’s empty.

The gaping hole within his soul were always lingering within the back of his mind.

Everyone is smiling, laughing. The wondrously sweet moments, it should make him feel something too. Right?

He tried so hard to blend in with the crowd. Shove down the overwhelming urge to stab someone. Feel their blood on his hands, just for the temporary sense of peace. Managing it is difficult when Colour checks on him time after time, and even spend plenty of days by his side. Gradually loosening up and allowing Killer to spend time in public alone.

Oh that has got to be one of the worst possible mistakes ever.

All went well formerly, till Killer inevitably snapped. The voices swirling around his mind, echoing. Taunting, were far too loud to push aside. Coldness filling his soul and pleading desperately for some relief. To feel something.

It wasn’t intentional. Oh stars, he never meant to break Colour’s trust in him. Yet the moment Killer regained a sense of clarity.. All he saw was red. Mangled corpses of humans and thick ashes of white scattered in the surrounding.

Within all of those, were traces of belongings that were familiar. Did he also hunt down the ones that seemingly considered him ‘friends’? Though it wasn’t reciprocated properly. Yes, yes he did.

The next few moment was all a fuzzy mess. He could’ve sworn his vision blurred once more, clouded by splotches of black which spilled down his cheekbones. The consistency of the unknown substance growing thicker and much more frequent with each passing seconds.

A low blow was the sheer disbelief and shock that showed within Colour’s face for no more than a split second. Overtaken by a softer gaze, as he advanced towards the carnage. Reaching out to hold Killer, the familiar warmth was soothing. Least, it should’ve been. Yet all that the skeleton felt, was freezing and unrelenting emptiness.

Again.

And again.

He can’t feel a single thing. Except pain.

Whilst the cruel, taunting voices only gets louder. So much so that he ends up arguing and fighting with Colour due to more reasons than one. All of which kept on piling, snowballing till it’s nearly impossible to figure out why each issue stirs up.

Would it be wrong for him to simply forsake everything by now? Give into the voices, allow it to puppeteer him as it pleases? Lose every ounce of control he had?

He just wanted to feel something. Find out what he’s forgetting, why does he even exist? Do he even have a purpose in the first place? Did he belong anywhere? Is he truly incapable of doing anything other than murder senselessly for nothing but a temporary respite and silence within his mind?

Nothing could be found out about his soul, nor the strange substance that spills down his sockets. Staining everything it touches with a surge of black, that could barely be washed off. The stain is near permanent, it’s disgusting. Repulsive. The shape of his soul too, why is it circular? Similar to a target. These were puzzles that he couldn’t solve, like there was missing pieces that is scattered which he’s unable to retrieve to fit it back in place and understand himself.

Was it normal to feel close to literally nothing? To have voices speaking within one’s head, over, and over. With no clear coherent voice or words? This was torture, it wouldn’t ever stop chattering. Whispering.

Why is it excruciatingly painful when the voices start? His soul seem to also be reacting heavily to it, aching. His entire body feel so heavy. Even without the tortuous whispering, it’s naught but agony.

It hurts.

It hurts so much

Make it stop.

Someone. Anyone.

Please make it stop.

Ithurtsomuchplease

Help

Godithurtspleasemakeitstop

Someoneanyonepleasehelpme

Stepping foot into the universe where he felt the overwhelming negativity from. Where the cry for help continuously echoes, so loudly that it’s ringing within his head. Just who could be in this much agony? Wrong as it is, the tremendous power spike he felt from just this one individual alone was excessive.

No, is it really just one person? It feels as if there’s multiple. There’s just no way a singular person can withhold this much agony within their entire being. This intense surge of anguish is unlike any that he’s ever seen before.

Glancing around, the place he arrived in. Was far deep into the woods, almost similar to where he previously were.. If not for the difference in atmosphere, the air is so much heavier. Suffocating even.

The snow falling from the sky was thick, temperature dropping with each passing seconds. The chilly air stung his bones, exhaling a small puff of white smoke from his mouth as he advances towards the source of negativity.

It’s potent, concentrated entirely to one particular direction. Which he followed, despite all red flags blaring within the back of his mind. Yet, do he care? No, he don’t. Getting hurt isn’t even a concern that he bothers with anymore.

It wouldn’t even matter if he end up suffering the consequences of recklessness if the cry for help is nothing but a lure to drag him out. Would the one that overtook the body of his twin, fall so low to use someone to force him to take action? Perhaps, or maybe not. He barely understood him anymore.

Not anymore.

The snow crunched underneath his foot, one foot forward and another. It’s gotten so thick and high that he could hardly walk properly. Having to pull his leg nearly up to his chest, just to take a step onwards.

Keep going.

The cry for help tugged at his soul, a unknown feeling that he’s long buried away amidst all of his own suffering.. were slowly creeping back up.

It doesn’t take him long to locate the source. Coming across a skeleton, crouched over on the ground. Hands grasping tightly onto his skull while a consistent burst of eerie, darkened and purple aura spill from him, invisible to all but Nightmare. The negativity is so much stronger now that he’s merely a few feet away.

He could see a flicker of red lingering within the front of the stranger’s chest, though with how he’s slumped over. It’s difficult to pinpoint what exactly was giving off such bright yet unsettling glow. The pure-white snow was stained to the brim with black, almost like Nightmare’s own goop that would dirty every spot the tendrils touched.

..Why do this feel so familiar?

His soul throbbed deep within his ribcage, worry.

Sympathy 

Concern.

He wanted to help this person.

No, he has to.

This wasn’t logical, but he had long decided that he would do his best to save someone. No matter the cost, the chance is right here too.

Though, it didn’t feel as if it was out of the selfishness of wanting to leave a mark. To be important, no. It was like he genuinely wished to actually pull the other out of the constant stream of pain that he’s in.

It’s almost like the past where he would give up anything and everything just for his twin.

Taking a deep breath, Nightmare slowly approached. Kneeling down infront of the unidentified skeleton, who barely even noticed his presence. Choked sobs of distress and incoherent pleas slipping out of the poor guy’s mouth, though the sorrow was all too clear. Nightmare could still hear his voice crying out internally.

How can he even help?

How did he manage to calm his brother down in the past?

Come on. Hurry, think.

Night. Think.

If he could reduce the amount of negativity from the other, consume it and force him into a state of calmness.

He could.

He can.

It’s been so long since Nightmare last attempted this, tapping into others’ emotions to sap it away. ‘Feeding’ on the negativity to fuel himself

It can work.

He just has to hope he don’t mess up

Reaching his hands out towards the skeleton, Nightmare cups one of his cheek and gently tilts it upwards to make direct eye-contact. Ever so softly hushing him before leaning forward to rest their forehead together, a dim purple glow engulfing them both. Taking this chance, to also lightly grasp the red, fragile object that seems to be spazzing out and spiraling

Killer stiffens up at the touch, who is this? What is going on? Did Colour come back? This didn’t feel like the usual pair of hands that’s offered out to grasp onto his. It felt so..

..soothing…?

A shiver ran down Killer’s spine at the chilly sensation that washed over his entire body, his soul gradually slowing. No longer twisting and swirling into a deformed mess. Calming down to it’s original circular shape. His vision were still so blurry, unable to see anything but black and red. Yet, he could clearly feel someone holding onto his cheek, and his forehead pressed against something or rather- someone.

Having someone touch his soul oh-so carefully, felt strange. No one actually tried to make contact with it at all in such a way, if anything. He’d usually see them trying to yank it just to test how he’d react

That much was easy to figure out, due to the soft whispers that took over most of his attention. Quietening down the voices that he originally thought was ceaseless. However, it.. stopped?

It’s silent. Abnormally quiet within his head, hearing absolutely nothing except the uttering that he could barely even catch.

….

Uncertain on how much time had passed, the whispering stopped once Killer gradually eased up. Much to his disappointment, the gentle grasp also pulled away from his skull. Allowing him time to properly sit up, rubbing at the black streaks running down his cheekbones from both sockets. In turns, slowly clearing up his vision at the same time. 

Ugh it’s disgusting.

Glaring down at his hands, stained with an inky mess. He finally took a look at the person that were on their knees infront of him. The first thing that catches his attention is his own red soul, floating atop the other’s palm.

Who..?

..An angel? No, no that didn’t seem like one. Not from the few narratives he’s heard of- pure white wings, with golden halo that rests above one’s head. Soothingly warm presence and gaze that wills upon a surge of comfort.

Yet, this other being that appears so frail and worn-out - the complete opposite of what ‘angels’ are rumored to be - rather than a hollowed-out circular ring that stays above his head, there’s a golden crown with three symbols resting at the very front. In the shade of such vivid purple, one moon within the middle and stars at the sides.

Violet eyelight, which holds a mixture of caution, and undeniably an obvious amount of worry. It wasn’t as bright as the sun, far from it. It’s.. close to what he can describe as the moon that hangs above a darkened night sky.

In place of soft, feathery white wings.. is what he could assume, to be a surge of goop. Similar to slime, barely swaying behind the other. One might even deem it unsightly and unnerving, but to Killer? Oh stars, the way it moves was mesmerizing.

He wants to touch it, feel the texture underneath his phalanges. See if it’d react to his touch, perhaps even curl around his palm as he lavish it with attention..?

Ah, his thoughts were drifting away. Finally, refocusing on the smaller one entirely. Killer’s breath hitched in his throat, biting back any words that threatened to spill. By no means were the magnificent being emanating any warmth, if anything it’s cold. A relatively delightful coldness.

Never have he seen someone so beautiful. Skewed as it is, he could argue that THIS was an angel. To him, let others’ opinions be damned. The more he looked at the unknown stranger in front of his very eyes, the further his mind reaffirmed it’s statement.

Without his realization, his own eyelights briefly reignited itself within the usually empty sockets.

He could’ve sworn the accursed soul was shifting in place within the other’s icy grasp, a singular phalange trailing over the delicate surface as if it’s a precious gem.

“Are you..-” The voice caught Killer’s attention entirely, perking up much like a puppy would when hearing it’s owner’s voice. Hell, if he had a tail, it’d definitely be wagging.

“How are you feeling?” Melodious, akin to an alluring lullaby. One that could easily put someone to sleep,

…

“Can you.. speak?” Nightmare questions hesitantly, wondering if perhaps the other were uncomfortable with his presence. Despite not being able to sense any bit of it, or maybe his capability to detect one’s emotions properly weren’t at it’s tip-top condition anymore. Having been focused on sensing even the smallest bit of positivity in an attempt to slip away from a certain someone’s grasp and sight.

Though that’s not important right now. Not this moment

“Hello..?” The lack of answers made everything awkward. The tension was high enough as it is, till Killer finally opened his mouth. “..Beautiful”

..Huh?

Now that was completely abrupt, with nothing to back it up whatsoever. Catching Nightmare by surprise, blinking once, twice. A tinge of purple quickly dusting his cheekbones at the compliment, puzzled by that. Of all things he was expecting to hear, this was definitely not one of it. It’d make sense if the other demanded for the red object back! Or, lash out at the unconsented touch- usage of magic on him and all.

Yet, he receives a compliment? Killer seemed so awestruck, which were the truth. He’s mesmerized by Nightmare. Yes, this was their first meeting. No, he have never heard nor seen the other before. However, there was just something about him that captivated Killer’s attention. Perhaps the fact regarding how Nightmare practically silenced the torment he’s forced to face on a daily basis? The lovely and welcomed coldness that soothed his very being?

Killer can’t tell right now.

“I’ll.. take that as a compliment, thank you” Nightmare let out a small chuckle, and stars above. Killer could’ve sworn his soul was throbbing. Pulsing within the gentle grasp, to which earned another small rub. Sending shivers down Killer’s spine, how can someone be this.. soft towards him? It wasn’t even like Colour behaved this way too, no matter how much his friend claims that he cares- that he believed in him. There was always a distance between them, one that Killer could never afford to cross nor step over the invisible boundary.

“Who… who are you? What even are you? Why are you-” Too much questions at once, overwhelming to some extent. Which Nightmare halted, by simply raising a finger up with his free hand.

“I go by the name of Nightmare,” Addressing the first inquiry, he tilts his head slightly. Offering a small smile which made the object in his hand give another shake, odd. “I’m but a wandering traveler” 

A white lie, not entirely the full truth but also not false. Nightmare had been traversing through various universes on a daily basis. Never having a proper place to settle down to call ‘home’, much as he’d love to have a safe space. To finally relax, toss off the intense dread and fear of being taken back to the hellhole, by the side of the sole person he used to trust with his entire life.

“You seemed to be in.. distress. Are you perhaps feeling any better?”

Killer stares, gradually giving a small nod instead of simply gawking at Nightmare like a absolute fool.

“Uh, feelin’ alot better. That’s for sure, thanks Night” Unbeknownst to Killer himself, he unintentionally shortened the other’s name. By the time he realises? It’s too late, oh great. He screwed himself over again, didn’t he? Made himself look like a complete idiot that listen properly to one’s introduction and-

“That’s a first” A small giggle slips from Nightmare, catching Killer offguard. He.. wasn’t mad? He’s actually laughing at such a silly slip of the tongue?

“How may I address you?” The question was simple, one which is normal to be asking another upon meeting. But Killer felt like he was over the moon at the small hint that the other was interested enough to be engaging in a proper conversation instead of scurrying away or leaving as soon as the chance is given. That or, avoiding him like the literal plague. Those aren’t the worst, of course. He’d rather be left alone than to.. Be looked at with pity or like he should be experimented on.

“Killer.” What a strange choice of name, who would name someone ‘Killer’? Then again, it isn’t as if Nightmare had a better name in the first place, so he wasn’t going to comment on it. Other than internally wondering why the other was named as such when he seemed relatively harmless. An unusual individual, that’s for certain. Although when it comes to malicious intent? Nightmare couldn’t sense any.

Which further confuses him. Why and how did Killer end up feeling that devastatingly crushing pain and panic?

The question was right on the tip of his tongue. Alas, he doesn’t actually bring it up, as he himself isn’t going into personal information as such. Reasonable so, as they both just met for the very first time.It wouldn’t be right to dive into heavy topics off the bat

“Well, I reckon it’d be alright for me to depart now.” Returning the glowing, circular object to Killer. He gently grasped it and let it linger by the font of his chest. Watching as Nightmare gets up onto his feet. Causing an unknown spike of emotion to surge through the skeleton’s mind.

Is he leaving this quickly? Will he ever see him again?

Nightmare reluctantly stepped away. It would be amazing to converse more with someone else other than his own thoughts, but he had stayed in one spot for longer than he normally would. Besides, with the large amount of negativity moments ago, he’s certain the person he’s been avoiding the whole time, will definitely come over and risk catching him

He don’t want to be alone.

“Wait!” Killer hurried to call out, using a arm to push himself up onto his feet in a rush. The sudden movement giving him a headache, everything spun. However, he was quick to grasp onto one of Nightmare’s hand. Holding the small, petite wrist.

“You’re… a traveler, right? Could I.. tag along?” It’s rash, there isn’t a singular thought nor reasoning behind this severely impulsive request. None at all, not even a tiniest shred. Surprisingly not just Nightmare, but also himself at how he’s acting out all of a sudden.

“I’m sorry but my paths aren’t always the safest and switching between places is common” An explanation was given from Nightmare whom awkwardly glances away. Having to omit plenty of details and ensuring it’d make sense from a outsider’s perspective.

Was that enough to get Killer to back down? Nope! Not even one bit, if anything it encouraged him further. “I can protect you, I’m good at fighting.” This was slowly leaning to desperation, for more reasons than one.

Killer wishes to remain by this person’s side. He made his soul.. flutter. Feel emotions that he normally wouldn’t, and the voices- just being by Nightmare- was enough to get it all to shut up. Be it temporarily or permanent, it wouldn’t matter one bit. If one view this in another way entirely, it’d just be seen as Killer wanting to take advantage of someone that could help him, and is then willing to stick closely.

To say Nightmare was surprised was an underestimation. He did not stop to think that someone would be willing to offer going along with him. It will definitely lead to multiple issues, especially with Dream constantly on his tail. Hunting him down. How would that even be explained? Would it actually even matter?

Anyone near him is bound to end up being in trouble. However, at the same time? Nightmare couldn’t shake off the small anticipation within himself. He could maybe, finally, have someone he could deem a actual. living companion by his side. One that he had successfully managed to calm down, without things going wary. Nothing went wrong!

Maybe, just maybe. The same thing may end up occurring again, and if Nightmare agrees to have the other with him. He would be able to instantly provide comfort and assistance. 

But..

Dream wouldn’t like that. 

It may provoke him, should he ever find out about this and.. And he’d likely be hunted more than he already were.

“I swear, I can be a good bodyguard.” Killer reassures, cutting Nightmare’s train of thoughts short. That singular promise seems to confuse him more than ever. Why was this guy so insistent on coming?

“Please.” 

Nightmare bit back his words upon hearing that singular plea, of all emotions to be sensing from Killer. It’s desperation and loneliness. Something that he was familiar with. Was this part of why Killer’s soul cried out so loudly? Because he’s seeking for a purpose and something is weighing him down? Pulling him to the very depths of the sea and drowning him?

It’s like Killer is longing for something, which Nightmare couldn’t exactly place a finger on. Not right this moment at the very least.

“It’d be.. dangerous.” Nightmare began hesitantly, piquing Killer’s interest. Listening attentively, and expectant. The small surge of hope felt so foreign. “I can’t assure you that I’ll be able to keep you safe, and..-”

There’s so much that he’s not comfortable sharing right now. Not now. It’s difficult to trust someone on a deeper level, with how deeply scarred he is when it comes to trust and love.

That subtle frown spoke volumes. Killer, despite his incapability to properly indulge in emotions and understand them personally.. had  always known how to read one’s facial expression and body language. It felt like second nature, 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” That one sentence brought forth more reasons and emotions than Nightmare would’ve liked. The very same things that Dream would tell him time and time again, to comfort him. With the adoringly wonderful smile and soft gaze.

He missed it so much.

No, no he can’t sidetrack in his thoughts right now.

If he were to allow someone else, especially a frail mortal, accompany him. It’d only endanger the other’s life and put a huge target on his back. How can he afford to pull someone into his issues when he can’t even protect himself properly?

When he nearly gave up, forsake himself to a eternal slumber. Had it not been for the sudden plea that jolts him right back. To find a purpose in helping someone, and.. then what?

Abandon them as soon as he calms them down? Is this what he’s going to do? When there’s a clear offer to finally have someone by his side, after a long, desperate and lonely years of mindlessly wandering?

He could provide solace to this poor soul, take him in and guide him away from the pain- shelter him from the overwhelming negativity that is slowly threatening to creep back in. This wouldn’t exactly be a unfair ‘trade’ either, as Killer would also be granting him the very thing he’s been craving.

Companionship. 

A guardian shouldn’t be like this, yet.. He had long given up on that role, perhaps just this once. He could try to see how things go. If he can’t protect his own sibling from going down the wrong path, he could.. Help this one person out. Right?

“There is alot of things that I wouldn’t be able to explain.” Nightmare began slowly, turning slightly to face Killer properly. Looking him straight in the sockets, observing him carefully “It’d be confusing and not make any sense.”

..Why could he not detect any doubts whatsoever within him? Why do Killer want to trust him so much when this is the first ever encounter they had? If anything, there is an unwavering determination deep within that felt extremely foreign. 

There isn’t a shred of malicious intents either.

Why? Just why?

Is it normal for someone to be this hellbent on.. being loyal? Was Nightmare overthinking this, or perhaps he isn’t and being cautious like he normally were, is good?

“If you’re still willing to, I can take you along.” This wasn’t a vow, it never is. Nightmare wouldn’t ever, but a verbal confirmation to ensure that Killer had the decision to accept or deny. “At any point if you feel like wanting to part ways, I’m more than okay with letting you go”

No more words needed to be said, Killer shifts his hand to properly intertwine his fingers with Nightmare’s, Tugging it up to his mouth before planting a small kiss on the back of it. Which essentially confused and also embarrassed the smaller one, cheekbones flushing bright purple as he averts his gaze. Was this really necessary?

“Thanks, Moon” Nickname already..? This guy sure is bold, but it’s a welcome sight.. A change of pace from talking to himself.

Nightmare pulls his hand away, sighing. What an odd individual, turning away before opening up a portal. 

The purple vortex swirling was mesmerizing, the magic that sparked off the edges. From the looks of it, Killer would’ve mistaken that for a brief glimpse of the galaxy manifesting in a small area. Curious as he may be, he dared not ask questions.. yet.

There was so much inquiries he wished to blurt out, the main thing was- how did Nightmare even manage to have this much of an effect on him? Even Colour struggled to snap him out of his usual episodes, especially one as bad as earlier. It was a near miracle that it occurred when no one else was around, or that he didn’t simply lash out. The result would’ve been horrible, like usual.

Frankly he wasn’t expecting to have been eased into calmness so easily. Almost as if the other had simply took away the anguish. Surely that’s impossible, right?

“Killer?” Hearing his name being called in that sweet, gentle voice. Snapped Killer right out of his thoughts, head tilting in confusion. A clear sign that he had been zoning out the whole time, unintentionally letting every single things that Nightmare might’ve said, fly right past his head!

“I was asking if you’re ready to head off” Despite the facade of false peace written over his face, an underlying sense of apprehension and caution could be seen through. Tension within his shoulders, eyelight darting occasionally to the surrounding, and subtle fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves. It’s all too clear that something’s going on. Truly, Killer found it all to be weirdly exciting. Thrilling. Not once has those emotions arise for anything except murdering or torturing another to a slow, painful death.

Yet now? He can sense them! Why? That is a question for later, how? He shall know in due time.

All that matters is ensuring he remains by this unique individual’s side. Clinging to the one person that gave him the rare chance of quietude and so much more than what he could possibly ever hope for. Despite how small this favor was to anyone that might be confused if they ever catch wind of this brief encounter. To Killer? It meant the literal world, to have the voices finally cease it’s endless torment, to no longer experience absolute emptiness within his soul.

“Shall we?” Nightmare offers, holding a hand out. Blissfully unaware of the countless thoughts running wildly within Killer’s head. The accursed soul threatening to reshape itself, if Killer didn’t relax.

Taking the outreached hand, Killer gave a small squeeze. “Let’s.”

With that, they stepped through the portal and left.

Would Colour end up coming back? He’s uncertain, there were times that the guy disappeared for days on end. Be it during an argument or not, though the former usually lead to Colour’s disappearance lasting for longer. Of course, Killer appreciated everything that his friend had done for him. But, it just wasn’t the same. Colour didn’t understand at all. Time and time again, repetitively.

He could’ve sworn things started going wary when Killer brought up a particular topic..

..Was it even important anymore..?

Whatever.

He can think later.

The portal then closes.

“Oh stars, this is going incredibly wrong! He won’t be happy about this”

[charlotteking23]

Hi I’ve recently gotten back into divergent so my Eric obsession has surfaced yet again😂

I’m also new to tumblr so I’m not sure if I’m doing this request thing right, so my apologies if it’s too much

I really enjoyed your head canon on Eric and was wondering if you could do another one maybe more geared towards him as a husband and father maybe some years down the road. I could see him having learned some self control when it comes to his anger issues. Maybe becoming a girl dad becoming a big softy which would be adorable, but still maintaining his asshole reputation somehow.

If you get a chance to write this I’d really appreciate it!! Thank you

Eric proposed to you after a year of dating. You told Eric beforehand you wanted to be proposed too, Why? There's no point in me proposing to you, you are already mine, Eric said rubbing his face annoyed. YOU WILL PROPOSE TO ME!! You screamed while hitting him.

You worked as a nurse so when the symptoms of throwing up, weird cravings, mood swings, and your period being late you knew you were pregnant. For precaution, you took a test confirming your suspicion, and you ran to tell Eric being overjoyed. What is it, honey? Eric said wrapping his arms around you. I'M PREGNANT! You Shouted waiting to see his reaction only to be met with silence, Babe are you okay? Eric looked at you and immediately spun you around in his arms with your legs wrapped around his torso.

Eric was extremely protective of you. He carried you down the flight of stairs because of the no railings, or you used the elevator. He made sure you ate a lot no matter how unhealthy it was, so a lot of chocolate cake. If anyone bumped into you or harmed you in any way whether emotionally or physically he kick their ass.

He was obsessed with the baby, and after the couple found out it was a baby girl, he was ecstatic wanting to spoil the little girl. She is so gonna be a daddy's girl, Eric said rubbing your stomach. How do you know? you said. Because She's my daughter, Eric said in an obvious tone.

Truth be told she was a daddy's girl, after she was born she only wanted her daddy. He was the only one that could make her go to sleep, so... Why do I have to go, it's your turn, Eric said still in bed rubbing his eyes tiredly with the baby crying in the background. Because She's a daddy girl, you said while putting the covers over your face feeling Eric get up.

At the age of 5, your daughter was handling knives and guns but was spoiled so much by her father that she favored him over you. You told Eric it wasn't a good idea to train her yet because she was so young but he did anyway, only the basics though. For her 6 birthday, she was given a pink knife and gun engraved was princess, ironic.

your daughter screamed and panicked whenever Eric was not there. She threw tantrums over the smallest things it was getting out of control, so you stepped your foot down. You told her that you were the mother and she had to obey your rules, She was not happy and yelled at you. Eric finally saw how his little princess was getting too spoiled... Princess Stop! Eric said with a firm voice, he realized how bad our daughter treated you and was not having it. [d/n] You can't disrespect your mother like that, Eric took away her guns and knives and had her apologize to you. You knew she was a daddy's girl but she was still your daughter and you weren't going to allow her to treat you like that. You forgave her but she was still grounded for 2 weeks.

By age 12 your daughter was maturing growing so beautiful with her long hair and beautiful blue eyes like Eric's. Eric was still an asshole to people but never to his family, he often compared his daughter to the initiates. Watch how my daughter throws the knives better than you pieces of shit, glancing at his daughter. She threw it perfectly right in the middle, the initiates looked at the little girl in surprise with a proud look from both her and her father. I want everyone to run and you won't stop till I say so...GO, Eric said firmly wanting to gouge his eyes out if he saw another initiate.

By the time your daughter was 16, Eric had moved up the ranks to head leader of Dauntless. Your daughter ended up staying in Dauntless excelling in training and becoming first overall in all her rankings only having 7 fears.

Eric was not happy, his princess had a boyfriend, and he had a reputation for scaring any boys who came close to his little girl. Oh, so you think you're good enough for my princess huh, Eric walked around the boy, giving him a fright. All-l do r-respect s-ir, the boy said shitting himself, Why are you stuttering, can't you speak right boy, Eric said leaning on his side while crossing his arms showing off his muscular arms. Daddy stop you are scaring him, His princess told him but he ignored her. Princess, why don't you give the boys some time to talk, his princess obliged leaving the men to talk. Can I get... before she could finish she saw her boyfriend leaving with tears streaming down his face. Look, we are breaking up bye, he left in such a hurry. She knew her father did this and ordered 3 shots of vodka, she was going to need it.

In the end, Your daughter was able to find someone who understood her and treated her like a princess. Eric approved of the boy for his daughter, 2 years after they dated he proposed to your daughter. you and your daughter went wedding dress shopping, planning the big invite list, etc. The wedding was extravagant and beautiful and you couldn't stop crying seeing Eric walk your daughter down the aisle and [d/n] saying I Do. You recall the memories that led up to this moment, you meeting Eric, the wedding, your daughter, the choosing ceremony, her wedding it was amazing with your family right by your side.

BTW yes Eric cried at the wedding. I am telling you, sweetie I am not gonna cry... 5 minutes later, Eric wiping his tears with a napkin. Not gonna cry right, you said with your arms crossed on your chest. SHHHH, the wedding starting, and my eyes are just leaking water.

[stvolanis]

Broken Heartstrings

(one shot)

warnings : dom & sub dynamics, Elvis is kinda abusive, age gap, INACCURATE TIME LINE, angst, Elvis is suspected of cheating,pet-names (baby, doll, darlin’, satin), a hint jealousy (Elvis and OC), manipulation, toxic relationship, OC is naive and kinda (not really) innocent, smut includes degradation (slut, brat), praising, dubcon-ish I guess, spitting, p in v sex, oral (f receiving),size kink, slapping (not hard enough to hurt), man handling, overstimulation, spitting, house wife kink (if you squint), stomach bulge, make-up sex, and overall rough sex. Sorry if I missed anything <3

this is my first story I’ve written for Tumblr, so it won’t be the greatest and might be poorly written to some, but I had fun writing it so enjoy to those who are interested :)

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

the days grew longer as the nights seemed to be getting unbearably shorter. Lucy was sitting on a tall bar stool swinging her little frilly sock covered feet back n’ forth as she waited for her husband to get to their shared home. It was late, ‘round 12:30 and he hadn’t shown up to the dinner she had graciously prepared for the both of them. The food was getting cold and her appetite was fading, being replaced by a feeling in the pit of her stomach she couldn’t seem to pin.

The couple had their ups and downs, as any other, but lately it seemed to be more downs. he’d come home late, his hair and clothes disheveled. sometimes he’d smell like cheap women’s perfume and other times he’d smell like gin and whiskey. he’d come home with an attitude, and take it out on Lucy since she was the closest one around. She knew he was struggling, but Elvis Presley was not one for opening up and receiving help.

the drinking and coming home late started happening after his mother passed away. he didn’t know how else to cope, so he did what he’d see his father do. he’d been chasing a high he’d never be able to reach, but his determined mind wouldn’t falter. one more drink. one more show. one more hit of whatever he was on in the moment or could get his hands on. anything to help relive the aching in his chest. It was like a poison that spread through his body, draining his energy and overtaking him. but he kept on falling deeper and deeper

but there was her. Lucy. the sweet little 20 year old who kissed his worries and pains away. Lucy, who made him feel like a young school boy all over again. Lucy , who batted her pretty eyelashes up at him when she needed some loving. Lucy, who’d perch herself on his lap and whisper sweet nothings into his ear when he was exhausted from shows, telling him everything he already knew, but it was coming from her, so he’d hear it a million more times if he could. Lucy, who was so sickeningly sweet and naive, she didn’t realize that not everyone wanted wanted to be just her friend.

Elvis didn’t like that.

Elvis knew he scored with Lucy. He knew that she was the purest thing he’d ever be able to obtain in his lousy life. the freshest, kindest and most beautiful little daisy in a field of weeds. Sure, people were throwing themselves at him left and right, but they weren’t real. Girls always on his arm, yet they only cared for his charm, fame and money. Only cared about fucking their way to the top just to be a nice trophy wife on the arm of some rich piece of shit. Running them dry. But Lucy was never like that.

Lucy was from a small town. A southern bell, and a hard worker who took care of her sick mother for as long as she could remember. She always seen the good in people, even when it seemed invisible to others. Her hearts too big for her delicate body, or at least that’s what her momma used to tell her. Lucy worked at a busy diner on the outskirts of her town, and traveling people were always in and out. So it was no surprise to her when Elvis Presley had shown up in a white button down, dark jeans and polished dress shoes with his friends following behind him.

Ever since that day, Elvis made it his mission to be with her. attached at the hip since they laid eyes on each other, and neither of them would have it any other way. But once her husband started touring again, their honeymoon phase was soon ending and arose more arguments, aggression and finger-pointing.

Elvis had promised to have a nice, civilized dinner with his wife as long as she cooked the food and not one of the maids. For hours, Lucy had been feeling waves of excitement as she cooked all day, creating a nice big meal for them to enjoy together for once. It had been so long since they sat down for dinner together. But alas, he was no where to be found.

She looked down at her hands that were between her thighs as she felt her eyes begin to water and her breathing uneven. of course he wouldn’t have come. what was she thinking? as tears began to fall, it seemed as though they wouldn’t stop. The girl wept as she began to throw away the food she had worked so hard to make.

Soon, that sadness and disappointment turned into a bubbling anger in her core. How could he do this to her? Why did she always have to be the one waiting around? She hated feeling reliant on him for the smallest things. Time, attention, love. Things no one else had ever cared to give her, but Elvis had so happily. She hated that they always fell into this routine of cat and mouse. And always, just when she’s about to call it quits, he smooth talks his way back into her arms.

Mumbling words of affirmation to her. How much he loves and cares for her, and how no one else will ever love her as much as he does. How she’s such a good housewife for him, always keeping the house together and waiting for his return like a good girl. How beautiful she is, and the things he loves most about her.

as the anger bubbled in her stomach, she could hear the booming laugh of Elvis through the halls as he cracked jokes with his choice of friends for the nights and all Lucy could feel was disgust. how could she have been so dumb?

In that moment, Lucy decided she’d had enough. She slammed the door open to the kitchen and marched her way through the long halls till she got to the entrance of the house where Elvis stood in all his glory. Oh, how pretty he looked. His smile becoming bigger as he laid eyes on his wife who wore a white, off the shoulder sundress and frilly white socks. she seemed so small and frail compared to him.

But his smile soon faded as he took notice of her puffy red eyes, red nose and trembling lips and worry consumed him. “Woah, darlin’, what’s goin on?” He asked as he took off his coat and laid it on a small round table. Lucy scoffed. “Are you fuckin’ serious, Elvis?” She said dryly as she squinted her eyes.

Elvis clenched his jaw, clearly displeased. “Watch ya mouth when ya talk to me, ya hear?” He said sternly as he pointed a finger at her. Lucy rolled her pretty green eyes. “Where were you? Huh? You were out with women, weren’t you? I can smell them on you Elvis!” She shouted as fresh tears fell from her eyes.

He groaned as he lazily dragged a hand down his perfectly sculpted face. “What the hell are ya talkin’ ‘bout, Lucy? I ain’t been with no women other than you!” He shouted back as he flared his arms out with a dry laugh. “I’m done with your lies, Elvis.” She said as she harshly wiped her tears and turned to leave.

Elvis made quick work of grabbing her arm and spinning her back around, harshly pushing her against the wall as his hand snaked up and snugly wrapped around her neck. Lucy was taken aback, Elvis had never put his hands on her in a way she didn’t like before.

“Dammit, woman, what’s it gonna take for you to calm down and stop accusin’ me of bullshit every damn day?!” He yelled out in her face. Lucy’s body wracked with sobs, and only then did Elvis realize what he’d done. He shakily removed his hands, but didn’t move away from her and instead caged her body in with his slender arms.

Lucy pushed harshly against his chest, trying to create some distance between them but Elvis wasn’t having it as he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. “Let me go, Elvis!” She said, her voice hoarse and broken. “Need ya to calm down first, baby.” He replied as he watched her body tremble

“Oh I need to calm down? How fucking funny coming from the man who just choked me out!” She laughed out dryly as she shot him a look of disgust and anger. “I’ve fuckin’ had it with this attitude you got. After everything I do for you, this is how you wanna act?! Huh?!” He yelled as he began dragging her up the stairs to their shared bedroom.

“Stop it Elvis, you’re hurting me!” Lucy weakly yelled as his grip tightened around her wrists, surely to leave marks the next morning. Elvis played deaf as he harshly threw her onto their bed, slamming the door shut and swiftly locking it. Lucy’s body bounced as she made contact with the bed before sitting up, ready to speak again till Elvis cut her off.

“Strip.” Was all Elvis said. His voice thick, deep and velvety. Such a sweet sound. If only the words coming out weren’t laced with disappointment and dissatisfaction towards the helpless girl on the bed. Her eyes widened and her words got caught in her throat. Again. Why does this always happen? right when she’s about to stand up for herself, she always backs down the very last second and the cycle continues and worsens each time. But it’s addicting.

Sickeningly enough, she thrives in it. She’s become so accustomed to it, she wouldn’t remember how to live like a normal couple again. The toxicity of their relationship kept her on her toes, and deep down inside, she knew she wouldn’t want it any other way. How boring it would be. She knew Elvis wasn’t with other Women, because if he was it would be the cover of every times magazine and she wouldn’t hear the end of it from her friends and family. She knew the perfume she smelled on him was his mommas favorite.

As her shakey hands met the fabric of her white dress and began pulling it off of her body, Elvis rolled up his sleeves and drunk in the sight in front of him. almond green eyes, plump lips and a cute button nose that’s still slightly reddened from her crying. long chocolate brown hair. Full breasts with perky, sensitive nipples that sat ever so perfectly. slim hips and meaty thighs with a round ass to top it all off. But god, how he adored how small she is compared to him.

How tiny she is, is one of his favorite parts about her, and oh, how he used it to his advantage in the most vile ways. it was so easy for someone as big as him to completely destroy her. and that’s exactly what he does.

“Please,Elvis, m’ sor-” she tried, but Elvis wasn’t having it. “I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ thing from ya, baby.” He said roughly as he gripped her hair at the base and craned her neck up to look at him. her hands gripped his shirt and she felt her slick between her thighs at his tone.

Elvis brought his hand up to her mouth and Lucy stuck her tongue out, welcoming her husbands fingers that harshly hit the back of her throat, making her gag and eyes water. Elvis clicked his tongue. “How can ya take my cock when ya can’t even take my fingers, darlin’?” He chuckled out.

Her mouth closed around his fingers and she began to suck them seductively and Elvis felt his pants tighten at the sight. Pretty eyes staring back up with him, trying to prove she can.

Always a hard worker, huh?

Elvis smirked at the thought as he removed his fingers and instead harshly pushed her upper body down onto the bed, spreading her legs as he dropped to his knees. his mouth watered at the sight. Her cunt was puffy and pink, bud swollen with need and begging for attention. Her slick was seeping out, and there was a wet patch on the sheets of the bed where she had been sitting that was dark and visible. It was such a pretty sight for a starving man.

He spread her lower lips and dragged his tongue between the welt folds, gathering all of her essence. He hummed at the taste of her on his tongue before savoring it for a moment. Then, he sucked her clit into his mouth with such force, her back painfully arched. His tongue skillfully played with her overly-sensitive bud, teasing and sucking as her thighs closed in around his head.

Elvis was pussy drunk. He couldn’t seem to get enough of the taste of his sweet girl. He didn’t care if he couldn’t breathe, he didn’t care about anything besides making Lucy come as many times as she could on his tongue. He prodded a finger at her sopping entrance before slowly sinking them in, letting them sit before pulling out and harshly slamming back in. Lucy let out a gasp at the intrusion as he began to finger fuck her tight cunt with no remorse.

The small girl felt the coil in her stomach tighten as her fingers gripped his mop of disheveled hair as she pushed her cunt further into the dazed mans face. Elvis curled his fingers in her before sucking her clit harshly one last time, and that’s when it snapped. “Oh my god—Elvis!” She moaned out as she tried to shove his head away from her overstimulated clit, but Elvis wasn’t listening.

“Sucha good girl, satin.” He mumbled against her clit as he felt her juices drip down his chin. God, how sweet she tasted. His entire chin and chest were covered in her, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’d fuck up a million more times if it meant he could come back home to this.

Lucy panted, out of breath underneath him as he crawled above her sweaty body. He laid the gentlest kisses upon her skin, so tender and sweet. The flutter of his lips against her stomach had her insecurities seeping away into the cracks of the floor boards. The suckle of her nipples, and the releasing ‘pop’, followed by the countless hickies laid where they both knew only he would be able to see had her blushing madly. The caressing of her neck and the soft kiss against her lips made her forget the reason this all started to begin with.

“Ya with me, baby?” He asked. “Yes, Elvis. ‘M here.” She softly replied. Elvis took that as his sign to tighten his hold around Lucy’s neck, lifting her slightly to better look her in the eye. “Good, ‘cause I’m gon’ show ya what happens to ungrateful brats when I’m done with ya.” He said harshly as he slapped the side of her cheek with his free hand, but not hard enough to actually hurt. Just hard enough to know he was gonna fuck her into oblivion.

He spread Lucy’s legs, slapping her puffy, over-sensitive cunt. She softly moaned at the impact, making Elvis chuckle. “Fuckin’ slut.” He muttered as he lined his throbbing cock to her entrance. Elvis inhaled deeply as he slowly pushed his tip in, teasingly pulling it in and out a few times. Lucy whined. “Elvis-” she began. “Shut up, ya take what I give ya, brat.” He said sternly as he gripped her hair. Lucy nodded I obediently as she whimpered out a small ‘sorry’.

Suddenly, the larger man bullied his way inside her wet cunt and she could feel his hair against her throbbing clit. She moaned out as her hand grabbed the arm Elvis was holding her leg up with to ready herself. Elvis spared no mercy as he ruthlessly began bucking his hips into hers, not waiting for her to adjust to his size. She felt like heaven to him, after all, he’d trained her pussy to perfectly fit his cock since the night of their wedding, but after so long of going without being inside of her, she’d tightened up again. Elvis hissed as her walls squeezed him before throwing his head back and letting out a deep groan.

Lucy gripped the sheets below her, desperately trying to hold onto something as the beast on top of her used her cunt like she was a rag-doll solely for his pleasure. “Tight fuckin’ cunt, all for me, mama. Takin’ my dick so well, just like I taught ya, baby.” He said between breaths. Her chest fluttered at his praise, and her cunt squeezed tighter around him. “Ya like that, hm? Like when I tell ya how good you are to me. How nice you fit around my cock. My good girl.” He muttered against your lips as his hands squeezed her hips with such force, they’d be sure to leave a mark.

“Yes, Yes, fuck—yes Elvis. ‘M your good girl. All yours.” Lucy replied through loud moans, her breasts bouncing with ever rough thrust he planted. Something snapped in Elvis at that, and he threw her legs over his shoulder, hitting a new angle. Just the right spot to make her vision blurry and seeing stars. Her back arched as his fingers found her clit, rolling it between his fingers before rubbing it just the right way that made that familiar coil tighten again.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum, Elvis! p-please mm- lemme cu-cum!” She stuttered out through moans. Elvis reveled in her satisfying sounds, every thrust sent him into orbit as he became pussy drunk, completely consumed in her. He could feel her everywhere. Her soft hands all over him. Her cunt squeezing the life out of him as she was on the brink of an orgasm. the pleas of her crying aloud. Her eyes watering as she stared up at him, overstimulated.

“Hold it, ‘m almost there, baby. Doin’ so good f’me.” Elvis replied as his hips shot further into hers. The sound of their sweaty skin echoed through the room, and surely could be heard through the halls. Elvis took notice of the prominent bulge on her stomach, groaning at the sight of him filling her to the brim. He pressed his hand against it. “Feel that? ‘M right here, doll.” He said, his voice laced with desire. Lucy merely whimpered, still trying to hold back on her orgasm.

The sudden pressure on her lower stomach made her eyes roll to the back of her head as she felt the coil once again snap, releasing all her juices on Elvis’ lower stomach for a second time. But Elvis wasn’t done yet as he kept his pace of pounding into her. “Please, I can’t-” she moaned out, Elvis slapped her cheek. “I told ya to fuckin’ wait, but you just hadda be a slut, huh? you’re done when I say ya are.” He hissed. Lucy moaned at the contact of his hand against her cheek before nodding her head vigorously.

Elvis felt his stomach grow tighter as he was closer and closer to finishing. “‘M almost there, j-just ho-hold on f’me, mama.” He stuttered out through the waves of euphoric feelings. All of his senses were overwhelmed and his body felt hot to the touch like it was on fire as sweat dripped down him. He slammed his cock into Lucys overstimulated cunt a few more times sloppily before his hips stilled inside of her.

Elvis soon pulled out and watched as cum dripped out of her sopping, pulsing hole before taking two of his slender fingers and stuffing it back in. “Don’t want it to go to waste, now do we?” He said with a smirk as Lucy’s body wracked with spasms as his fingers penetrated her. Lucy’s hand reached out and stilled his movements with a small whimper. “No more Elvis, ‘s too much.” She whined.

Elvis sighed. “Alright, satin, let’s get you cleaned up.” He said as he got up and went into their shared bedroom to retrieve a wet cloth before coming back and gently wiping off both of their juices from her sore cunt. Lucy sighed contently as Elvis pressed a few lingering kisses on her thighs and stomach. “You did so good.” Elvis said against her lips before softly kissing her.

“Want you to hold me, please, Elvis.” She muttered back with a cheeky smile. Elvis let out a small laugh, eyes gleaming with something she couldn’t quite decipher. “Whatever you want, Lucy.” He replied as he laid in bed next to her, bringing her closer and wrapping his arms around the smaller girl. She drew small patterns on his naked chest and smiled contently when she felt his hands begin to massage her scalp.

“Yknow I love ya, right?” Elvis said as he glanced down at her in his arms.

“I know, Elvis. I love you too.”

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

[formulapookie]

💛💛

Under the cut to read on Tumblr, here to read on Ao3 ch1; ch2; ch3; ch4

Les fleurs du mal ch.5 rosquez, 2.1k words

It’s nine in the morning of a beautiful Sunday, he finally got all the truth Uccio for God knows what reason had chosen to change, corrupt, modify for him to see a distorted version of reality.

The telemetry, that shit was just made up, by a jealous? angry? Uccio, who chose to ruin the one good relationship in forever like that, like it had just been a flash, instead of the sun in his life.

He wanted to call Marc, hell no drive until Cervera and say he was sorry, that he had been an asshole, a terrible person, but to please forgive him because he had been shielded from the reality and couldn’t see.

That now tho he sees the love Marc always reserved for him, he sees how much Marc is willing to sacrifice for them, for the love they share.

There’s a voice note in his notifications, along with two missed calls, from Marc.

And a text from Lorenzo.

“Vale?”

“Mh?”

They’re laying in bed, at Vale’s house, softly surrounded by pearly colored sheets, the sound of the town filling the outside world.

“Do you ever think about like, the future?”

“In general or us?”

“Both”

“Well of course amore, I think of my racing career and more titles and of the time when I’ll inevitably have to retire.

And I think about us, free from the media attention, in a beautiful house near the see.

No neighbours, just us, and you are sunbathing naked next our pool and then I-“

Marc blushes, hiding his face more in the crook of Vale’s neck

“What amore? It wouldn’t be the first time I see you naked eh. I think I saw you pretty clearly last night”

“Vale! This was supposed to be romantic!”

“Is it not romantic? Making love to you in a house we share?”

“I - yeah it is”

“See? And you? You think about the future?”

“Yeah. I see us in a house in the middle of the countryside tho, with animals.

Dogs, a lot of dogs, and your strange red cat too”

“Rossano is not strange!”

“He looks at me funny whenever I’m here.

But anyway, a cute house in the countryside, just the two of us, it’s peaceful”

“But? I feel like there’s a but”

“But I also think about the sport and the danger and - Vale are you scared of death? I am terrified by it. It’s just - one day you just cease to be and I cannot think the universe is so cruel to do this”

“Amore, of course i’m scared of it, and it. In our sport it can happen. It took me years to get over the fact Marco was gone. But life ends in death no matter what we do, we have to live it at our fullest still”

“Im scared thought, I don’t like the idea of it. It’s cold you think? When you”

“I don’t know. It could be. Or it could be warm like drifting asleep with a blanket on and just - sleep”

For Marc it’s cold when he dies.

Freezing even, and so so lonely.

When Roser finds him, curled beside his bed, clutching in his arms the helmet signed by that man, it’s like being shot in the heart.

She tries to wake him, tries to call him, but he’s cold.

Unmoving.

Still like the moment she finds herself in.

Marc is holding onto that one piece of his heart like he’s still alive, the strong grip seemingly coming from a strong person.

But when she looks at him all she can see is her little boy, her son.

Pale and tired and sad.

He looks like he’s having a bad dream, the unsettling kind of dreams where you don’t precisely know where you are and can’t get out.

There’s petals on the ground.

Yellow. 

So much yellow and she just wants to burn it all away.

She cries more, calling for Marc again, trying to get him back.

But Marc can’t hear her, the only sounds in the room are Roser’s sobs and the repetitive buzz of Marc’s phone.

When Marc wakes up in the middle

of the night he’s cold, shivering.

The fever is taking over, he’s hallucinating again.

He reaches out for Vale, why is he not in bed? 

Oh right, he’s still not back yet.

But it doesn’t matter.

Because they have time.

The scratch in the back of his throat seems to be less excruciating too, like it’s being kept at bay.

Well this just means Vale is close right? 

He’s coming, finally he’s coming home to tell him he still loves him, and - and the roots will go away the same way they arrived.

“Oh I need to set the room up, Vale has to see my collection has improved, yes, he needs to see it”

Marc unpacks the two boxes Roser had stuffed full, carefully taking out the items in them.

The cap and the picture first, he places them on the shelf next to his bed, close, so close the cap covers half the picture, the half where Marc is.

Then it’s the bikes turn.

Slowly, methodically, precisely, Marc takes them out the box one by one, placing them in the same exact order he had bought them.

He sees Alex in his room, he’s not happy.

“Marc come on stop you look ridiculous”

“Ah Alex stop it, you’ve just never been in love, when you’ll be you’ll get it”

He’s standing on his bed, mattress dipping under his rapidly decreasing weight.

“You see, Vale is coming and the room has to be nice for him, I want it to be more beautiful than ever, he deserves the best”

Marc is smiling, like a kid on his birthday, waiting to blow the candles.

“Oh he’ll want the 2004 Yamaha to be the most visible for sure, he loves that bike God how he loves it”

He keeps talking to a non existing Alex, while he feels colder and colder.

“I better put on a hoodie, don’t want to catch a cold before Vale arrives for sure”

He goes pick up the one hoodie Vale left there, in his home.

It still smells like him.

He sits on the bed, legs crossed with his phone beside him, facing the door.

He stays there for minutes, maybe an hour even.

There’s no sudden buzzing of the phone, no sound of a car parking outside, no knocking on the door signaling Vale is there.

Well not yet, maybe he just doesn’t like to travel with the dark.

Yeah it - it must be that.

Because it’s either that or.

Or Vale isn’t coming.

Not now, not in a million years he’s gonna spend tidying up his room to welcome Vale back in it.

When the fever lets go of him and he sees clearly again it hurts.

Physically, mentally, emotionally it all hurts like it’s been crushed by tons and tons of rocks thrown on top of him.

Hot big tears fall from his eyes, follow the now slim outline of his cheekbones, and collect under Marc’s chin.

“He is coming. He is coming. I know he’s coming”

He tries to convince himself of this, even with the hallucination gone, he gets up and sets up the room.

It has to look exactly like it did when Vale came here last time, little bikes in their precise fragile order.

The last thing he takes out the boxes is the helmet.

Signed, a little note left for him by Vale, unmistakable messy handwriting on the clean visor.

He takes his phone, it’s stupid, childish but he can’t do otherwise.

He calls him.

Twenty, twenty five seconds of his phone ringing. No answer.

He tries again. And once again there’s no answer on the other side.

He opens their chat, it’s still on hold since the last text Vale sent.

“Good luck for the race babychamp”

He presses the button to send the voice note, the first few seconds just of silence.

“Vale. It’s me. I - please Vale it hurts so much, I can’t breathe I need you to come here quick I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry for what I did, all of it, I’m sorry I didn’t want you to lose, I didn’t want to do anything against you. I never - I never went to him, I would never cheat on you, I only ever had you please believe me Vale. Vale I love you. I’m home and, and it hurts so much. Please I need to see you. Please. I need to feel your hugs again. I’m cold Vale so cold”

The voice note sends, but there’s no blue ticks to signal it’s been read.

Marc climbs off the bed, his phone beside him, holding the helmet between his arms like it’s the most prized possession of his, he fears it may scratch, or get ruined if he accidentally bumps into the shelf he usually laid it on.

All his words now barely a whisper, he’s trying to stay anchored to reality by clutching at that damn helmet, it’s almost sunrise, almost sunrise and there’s no sign of Vale.

He abandoned him.

Vale abandoned him.

He truly hates him, he truly wants Marc to not represent a menace at all.

That’s fine. Vale will be fine without him too, he was fine before meeting him, there’s no need for Marc to exist in Vale’s life.

Maybe he’s gonna be a weight less, he will just go away, like he came in.

A breeze.

Marc can feel himself getting colder, and the petals in his throat now make it impossible to breathe.

He vomits them rather than coughing, a sea of yellow hollowness making its way out of his body, the everlasting presence of Valentino beside him even right now.

“you promised it was going to be warm like falling asleep with a blanket, but it’s cold, it’s so cold”

He’s still waiting there, looking at the door like a dog waiting for his owner does.

Argo had waited for Ulysses for years before he came back, and had died right in his arms.

But Marc knows his Ulysses won’t arrive, not even to hold him as he leaves behind the ugly and hurt of the mortal world.

He’s an abandoned dog. Even if he was loyal. He’s been abandoned.

He cries on the helmet, the last tears he can still produce, before his life abandons him too, the last breath used to hope, to call Vale’s name.

When Roser finally looks at the ID of the caller on her son’s phone she is angry.

She wants to smash that phone against a wall, make it shut up once and for all.

“Vale💛💙” identifies the person calling, the rage she feels is unexplainable through words.

She doesn’t answer. He doesn’t deserve to know from her what happened to her sweet boy, he will forever live with the guilt of having killed him. 

She only manages to call Alex and their father two hours later. 

She tells them to come there, that Marc has gone to sleep the night but hasn’t woken up now.

When Alex barges in he’s red in the face, crying and cursing.

He runs to the room they used to share, and sees how Marc has set it up once again, memories of Vale on all the shelves.

He also sees the many yellow petals littering the ground of the bedroom, a dark feeling taking residence in his chest.

“Marc? Marc it’s me, it’s Alex, I know you can hear me, you’re just sleeping, but you have to wake up, mom is getting worried. You need to wake up Marc please, I don’t know what to do without you”

“Alex he’s not-“

“HE’S ALIVE HE’S JUST - he’s just making a joke mom he - he can’t be dead mom he can’t be”

“Alex come here”

“No. No he - it’s not right. It’s not right he shouldn’t be, it shouldn’t end like this, he promised me we would’ve been together on the podium one day, he promised”

Roser has to drag Alex away from Marc, he doesn’t want to let go, he wants to save him.

“Alex. Look at me. You have to think of what Marc wanted ok?”

“Marc wanted to live! He wanted to race and win and - he wanted so many things! He’s scared of death, terrified of being alone! AND HE WAS ALONE!”

“But he wanted you to live too, he wanted you to be there on track, to be here with us. Please don’t - don’t make me lose you too Alex”

“No no i’m not going anywhere mom I promise. I’m not going away, sorry sorry sorry mom I’m staying here”

“Can you? I can’t call anyone to tell”

“Yeah yeah i I’ll uh ill call people”

“Be kind with yourself, as kind as your brother was with you ok?”

“Ok”

They think about removing everything from the room.

Putting it back in boxes.

But Marc’s last wish was probably for the room to be like this, and they couldn’t go against his wish.

[lavendermoonlitskies]

I’ve felt so sick to my stomach debating whether or not to continue contributing to and interacting with the fandom. I’ve heard different perspectives on the matter and I don’t necessarily disagree with any of it. I feel guilty for being upset over some of the things I’m upset over. I’ve been in tears consistently over the last couple days thinking no. Stop crying. This is a stupid reason to cry. You’re being selfish. Get over it. Truth is, season 3 is already written, and Neil can be fired from the show, and if that happens, I feel like I can breathe.

until then, I still don’t know. The points made in the post I reblogged before this about how once it’s out in the world, art belongs to more than just the artist, make me feel at least a little bit better about not leaving, but I’m still feeling some guilt about that.

This fandom is wonderful. You’re all so lovely and talented and kind and leaving it all behind after it has helped me so much in the last year would make me feel awful. I graduated college in 2023 and the transition has been very difficult. My friends are mostly all out of state, I’m still living at home, I can’t drive yet, I don’t know where my life is going. When I discovered this show over the summer, it gave me something to be excited about. People to talk to. A way to connect with what feels like a community. It made me rediscover my love for writing. I haven’t been this excited about a piece of media in years. It hasn’t even been a year since the release of season 2 and this fandom has already given me so much.

but now I feel like I can’t share that joy without contributing to something awful. I feel guilty for still wanting a season 3 because I know there are people out there who view that desire as selfish and maybe I don’t entirely disagree. I don’t give a shit about Neil, but I give a shit about this fandom and the story that he is unfortunately a co-creator on and I can’t help it.

I don’t know, I’m in actual tears writing this. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten this personal on my tumblr and just like my last post(pinned) I don’t know if I have a point or if I’m just rambling again.

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

@fatisthenewshape is in charge !!

“Omg I can’t believe how boring his life is. I know he told me before that his life was nothing but I didn’t expect it to be this bad.” Finishing up the paper work from the most boring job ever I pushed my chair in. I wonder what he’s doing in Paris right now. Sure therapy wasn’t intentional but it happened somehow and now I knew I was in his American body. Right when I was about to walk out of the office I heard my email go off. I went back to check and it was yet again another down sizing. Me being good at this job of his wasn’t on the list hit it just meant his boring job was about to get more boring !!

I screamed looking at that computer. “I can’t take this shit anymore!” I slammed the door shut to the office and on the way home grabbed some beer. In the apartment that night I just stared at the glow of the tv. I was only on my first beer and I was already feeling sleepy. I didn’t want to be in this body anymore. This life was so boring !! It was so much more fun when we just talked about transfo….. I sat tight yo on the couch. Maybe this was a way to really live a transformation. Maybe this was the chance I had to really make a change. Pulling up his tumblr account i reread everything he posted. I didn’t realize how many different changes he had written about. But needless to say after couple hours I have decided on the changes I would make. Closed my computer I walked back to the living room and opened up another beer.

It was a couple months of my new ambitious beer drinking that I finally had a beer gut. He has written so many stories about having one that it was odd he didn’t actually have one. This was my first change I was going to make to him. And now here I am. Rubbing this big gut while I’m walking out of this office for the last time. It was now time for me to go onto the next phase of my plan. Destroying his education was right up his ally. He always talked about being dumb. And a dog. Well he needed a job that would fit that role.

I managed to get a job at a Construction site. The work was hard and labor intensive. I sweat all day and I smelled like crazy. But I kept drinking my beers and continuing on the path that I had set for him.

Making so much less made my next changes a little hard. One of the things he fantasized about clearly was tattoos and I wanted to make sure he had them. But the massive decrease in pay from the corporate world made it hard. I started asking some of my coworkers about the I tattoos and before I knew Indians out they was an artist and was offering to give me some at a discount

It was long before I was making daily visits to get as much ink as possible on his body. I was loving how fast his body was getting covered in tattoos. And the looks that people were giving. I was soon looking like a walking piece of graffitied skin. I began to do other things. Like adding gauges to hjs ears. One I had them completely obliterated to the point of now return I knew that his physical changes had to come to a close.

For the next part in his journey I decided to delve deeper into one of his stories tropes that he wrote about alot. Problem was that I wasn’t willing to do any of the work. I found myself on the dark web one night and with a couple thousand dollars and his social security number it wasn’t long before the stranger had logged into the federal system and began to add charge after charge to his record. Drugs, possession, firearms. He was making this man a low life thug criminal and now there was nothing he would be able to do about it. He would be able to find the chat rooms or anything to get this resolved. I even perfected his signature and sending a copy to the stranger online he used that to validate the claims of all the charges he was placing on this body. We even managed to invalidate his college degrees and even high school degree. Now he was a high school drop out who went down the path of being a hard criminal. It wasn’t long before his face was being seen all over tv. Armed and dangerous. I was now living the body of a wanted man just like in those stories he wrote. It was t long before the police came and aggressively arrested me. And I just smirked. Bring in prison was going to be the utmost change to his life that would be able to make. And from the sounds of it. With all the charges I had managed to get on his record, he was going to be here for several years. Especially after I admitted to everything for him.

[one-and-a-half-yikes]

Im gonna be honest i think we need to understand how oswald's and fanny's relationship REALLY was, because its clear that they both describe it with still personal very very strong feelings and they do run head first into that Unreliable narrator territory often enough to make me belive theres something big missing a invisible elephant in the room if you will

Fanny says oswald betrayed her

While oswald says she was extremly toxic and wants her away (yet he still pulled all that shit at the dance like bro she was litellary just having fun at an even that you just so happened to be at Then you walked up to her asked her for a dance and acted like she was the devil and started accusing her)

And while both these things could be true in sense we need to know HOW, how was fanny toxic? How did oswald betray her? We have a silloute of a picture but not the frame or the pieces

Also I do seriously wonder how was fanny toxic to oswald? It all was very very long ago and while fanny's personality could be mirroring her now but She didnt have all the experience she has now she had to be diffrent from how she's now

(Also I truly belive oswald definitley fucked up in some way too and we don't know it yet like she had multiple boyfriends but oswald stucks out and not only that but even the thought of him angers her, it could be because if we look at the timeline he could be her first boyfriend or alternativley her ticked out of bad home life like you said but I do think there has to be more to it especialy since again we don't know that much about how he was all that time ago...but we do know fanny likes to ignore neon red flags)

Sorry for the long ask oh my i didnt mean to write it so long I hope you don't mind my mid analisis in your ask box but you did say you wanna talk more about fanny so

ヾ (‘∀ `*)

Honestly I don't mind people hitting my askbox up with analyses or their own takes on certain parts of IM I live for this and I WOULD like to interact with the Inky Mystery fandom more on tumblr cause most of the time I'm hanging out with everyone on discord, but it's nice to talk on here too lol

I'm gonna guess you're asking for my opinion on this?

I don't know if I would describe them as both being unreliable narrators, because from my knowledge Oswald has never divulged to anyone about his relationship with Fanny so we don't really know what his whole perspective on the matter actually is. We don't know if he thinks he was innocent throughout the relationship or if he acknowledges that they were both toxic and bad for each other. What we know is that Oswald was the one who dumped Fanny not the other way around and that means something to me at least.

Fanny on the other hand...I would definitely call her an unreliable narrator when this is how she's describing the breakup:

If you were to only hear from Fanny's side of things you could be convinced that Oz was having an affair with Ortensia on the side during his relationship with Fanny. But this isn't the case, and there's nothing from Fanny's side to provide evidence that this was the case. Not to mention that she's implying that Ortensia seduced Oz into breaking up with her so she could replace her. Calling her an unreliable narrator here doesn't even cut it she's just outright lying about two people who haven't really done her wrong.

But this isn't the first time either. In another chapter she makes a bunch of accusations against Oswald again.

Accusations, that again, are not proven to be true. We got Oswald's perspective during the Far Far West arc and anything pertaining to Fanny never came up. He never talked to anyone about it. He never talked to Cuphead about it. Hell, he didn't even talk to Cuphead at the group date either.

We've only had Oswald make one real accusation against Fanny from when they were together and it was in response to an accusation that Fanny made about him. We have no idea whether Oz is telling the truth or not, but I also have no reason to see why he'd lie. I don't think Fanny is lying to cover up anything, I think she's so bitter about the break up it doesn't occur to her that Oz breaking up with her wasn't to spite her or anything. Yes it hurt and it sucks the way her life turned out after the break, but that's not Oz's fault. He's not responsible for that.

All in all, I think it's good to have an open mind about their relationship, but we also have to look at the facts and the facts show that it's not on equal ground. One person is spreading rumors or fabrications and the other hasn't said a word about the situation to anyone.

Hell, even at the group date situation, Oz approached Fanny to call her out on her behavior but he could have just as easily gone straight to Cuphead and warned him about Fanny and her past. Oswald keeps what happened between them to himself and those he knows best. Fanny has openly talked shit about both Ortensia and Ozzy in front of other people casually without consideration for privacy.

The whole thing regarding why Oswald angers her so much whenever she thinks about him. I have ideas, and I feel like I'm right on the money but I want to wait and see before making a big meta post about their relationship. M shared something juicy on the discord and I am very excited when we get to see it!!!

Also THANK YOU for the ask!! This was nice I'm glad I got to gush about these two some more because I often don't lol