#appear on the screen. aw! but i'm not gonna watch that!

[coquelicoq]

i think of all the books i've ever read, le père goriot takes the prize for taking the longest to get interesting, as it doesn't happen until the very last sentence. i'm just bopping along for over 400 pages of whatever and then he slaps me in the face with the last sentence and immediately peaces out. okay you got my attention, just in time to throw it away. respect.

[transform4u]

Mirror, Mirror on the wall...

Dylan, 32 years old and a rising star in the world of journalism, had finally achieved his big break after years of hard work. Now, he enjoyed a comfortable six-figure income, residing in a stylish one-bedroom apartment overlooking a serene park on Chicago's west side. He was known for his easygoing nature, a friendly demeanor, and a contagious laugh that invited others into his world. Dylan took pride in his caring disposition, always looking out for his friends and partners.

Despite his contentment, one persistent annoyance nagged at him: a particular guy on Grindr who seemed relentless in his pursuit. This individual, far from Dylan's type, exuded a flamboyance that clashed with Dylan's more reserved personality. His profile picture, donned in drag, irked Dylan every time it appeared on his screen. Yet, amidst his success and popularity, Dylan prided himself on being his own person—not conforming to stereotypes, but embodying a cool, composed image that he meticulously cultivated.

After a long day at work followed by a rigorous gym session, Dylan returned home to unwind. Just as he settled in, his phone buzzed unexpectedly with a message on Instagram—not from his friend Kyle about their usual happy hour plans, but from the persistent Grindr user. Irritated yet intrigued by the message's tone, Dylan hesitated before reluctantly opening it.

"Hey Dylan. It's clear now that you don't want to date me. And I'm totally fine with that. Maybe you think you're too hot or too cool or whatever to date me. But you've only lived one life. Hah. That's gonna change."

A doorbell interrupted his thoughts, drawing Dylan to the front door where a package wrapped in vibrant red packaging lay waiting. Curiosity overcame him as he brought it inside and unwrapped it, revealing a mirror shaped like a melting heart. Puzzled by its arrival and wondering if he had made a drunken purchase, Dylan decided to hang it on his wall despite its mismatch with his usual decor.

Upon hanging the mirror, Dylan discovered a small letter tucked within. Reading it aloud, he found himself drawn into an impulsive act—reciting the mirror's enchantment aloud, inviting a change he could not have anticipated.

Dylan stood in front of the mirror, mesmerized and slightly apprehensive, as the first effects of his impulsive incantation began to take hold. The air around him crackled with an electric energy, a sensation he could only describe as a tingling wave coursing through his entire body. It started subtly, a faint tremor in his muscles, like a dormant power awakening. He read a note:

"Dearest Dylan. I'm so happy you decided to hang up my mirror. I know how much you love to look at yourself. Hah. Well. Look deep into the mirror. And soon you love life will change. It's a going to be wicked fun. Just look at the mirror on the wall and speak aloud the following words…

Mirror, Mirror on the wall. Give me a life to be hated by all. Mirror, Mirror my face looking back at me. Give me the personality of someone I'd hate to be. Mirror, Mirror show my worst self. Mirror, Mirror change thyself" As he spoke the words aloud. The paper fell from my hands and the mirror glowed and glowed almost incasing my entire room. What had he done?

At first, Dylan relished the transformation. He watched in awe as his reflection morphed before his eyes. Muscles tightened and expanded, sculpting his physique into something that mirrored the fitness models he had admired in magazines. His abs became chiseled, arms bulged with newfound definition, and his biceps swelled with strength. It was exhilarating; a validation of the hours he had spent at the gym, honing his body to perfection.

But as the changes intensified, doubts crept into Dylan's mind. His initial thrill gave way to a growing unease. He remembered the words he had spoken to the mirror: **"Give me the personality of someone I'd hate to be."** Panic simmered beneath his skin as he realized the gravity of his request.

The mirror, now glowing ominously, seemed to reflect not just his physical transformation, but something deeper—an alteration of his essence. His reflection's smirk deepened, its eyes gleaming with a knowing malice. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy this," the mirror whispered, its voice echoing with an otherworldly resonance that sent shivers down Dylan's spine.

As the transformation continued, Dylan felt an unnatural confidence surging through him, mingled with an unsettling arrogance. His once warm and inviting laugh took on a haughty edge. His friendly demeanor hardened into a dismissive smirk, and his generous spirit twisted into selfish impulses. The very traits he had prided himself on—kindness, empathy, humility—began to erode, replaced by a cold, calculating demeanor that he barely recognized.

Despite his growing discomfort, Dylan found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the mirror. It was as though he was watching a collision of his idealized self and his deepest fears, all brought to life by his reckless words. The mirror's reflection taunted him, mocking the person he was becoming.

In that moment of realization, Dylan knew he had to undo what he had set in motion. But the mirror held him captive, its eerie glow pulsating with an irresistible power. As he struggled against the creeping darkness within him, Dylan's heart sank with the weight of regret.

What had he done? And how could he ever return to the person he once was?

As Dylan wrestled with the unsettling changes in his demeanor, the transformation took an unexpected turn. The electric waves that had initially expanded his muscles began to reverse course. He felt a strange sensation of compression, as if his body was shrinking down, compacting itself while retaining the newfound strength and definition.

His arms, once bulging with exaggerated muscles, now tightened into a more refined and compact form. The exaggerated bulk softened, the lines of his physique becoming sleeker yet still maintaining a toned athleticism. Dylan's abs, previously sharp and defined, now settled into a leaner but no less impressive configuration. The transformation seemed to redefine his physical presence, sculpting him into a different ideal—a more compact, agile version of the muscular figure he had momentarily embodied. At first, Dylan didn't realize what was happening. His focus had been on the muscular changes wrought by the mirror's magic. But then, he noticed it: a gradual shrinking, a diminishment of his stature. Inch by inch, Dylan's height decreased, each moment bringing him closer to the ground until he stood at a diminutive 5 foot 4.

As his body underwent this metamorphosis, Dylan's skin tone deepened into a rich, bronzed tan. It was a stark departure from his natural complexion, now radiating with a sun-kissed glow that seemed to intensify under the mirror's eerie illumination. The mirror's magic continued to work its unsettling effects, altering not just his appearance but seemingly his very essence.

Dylan's gaze flickered down in shock as he noticed his shirt melting away, replaced by a garish gold chain draped around his neck. The chain, ostentatious and gaudy, clashed starkly against the more subdued attire he had preferred. It gleamed in the dim light of his apartment, a visible manifestation of the transformation's shift towards a persona he neither recognized nor desired.

The realization hit him hard. What had begun as a frivolous experiment had spiraled into something far more profound and irreversible. His reflection in the mirror now bore the mark of someone he might have once scorned—an exaggerated caricature of confidence bordering on arrogance, adorned with symbols of material excess that clashed with his previous understated elegance.

Fear and regret coursed through Dylan's veins as he struggled to comprehend the depth of the mirror's power. The once-inviting mirror now seemed to taunt him with each passing moment, its glow pulsating with a malevolent energy that mirrored the darker facets of his altered personality.

As he stood before the mirror, trapped in a transformation he couldn't control, Dylan's thoughts raced. How could he undo this? Was there any way to revert to the person he had been before his ill-advised invocation? With each passing second, the answer seemed to slip further from his grasp, swallowed by the insatiable hunger of the mirror's magic.

As the transformation continued, Dylan's mind began to fog up. His once-sharp intellect was dulled by a sudden influx of base desires and primal urges. The mirror's magic had not only altered his physical appearance but also rewired his brain, stripping away any semblance of rational thought or empathy he once possessed.

In its place grew an insatiable lust for women—their curves, their scents, their soft skin against his own hardened form. He found himself fixated on images of bikini-clad models and celebrities with impossibly large breasts and tight asses. His gaze lingered on every woman who crossed his path, imagining what it would be like to possess them in the most carnal sense possible.

His thoughts were no longer focused on intellectual pursuits or meaningful relationships; instead, they revolved around parties filled with alcohol and drugs where he could indulge in casual sex without consequence or commitment. The idea of settling down with one person seemed foreign to him now—a concept that held no appeal whatsoever in this new reality where pleasure was fleeting but easily attainable through superficial means alone.

Dylan's once-passionate love for men had been reduced to nothing more than a distant memory as he embraced this newfound heterosexuality wholeheartedly (or rather whole-mindedly). He found himself drawn towards masculine traits such as strength and dominance over feminine ones like sensitivity or emotional depth—qualities that were now deemed weaknesses by his transformed mindset.

As the transformation continued, Dylan's mind was flooded with more fuckboy thoughts. He found himself laughing along with the reflection in the mirror, which seemed to be enjoying his descent into shallow superficiality.

His flaws and memories began to change as well. His once-kind nature was replaced by a selfish and entitled attitude; he now believed that he deserved whatever he wanted without considering others' feelings or needs. His intelligence had been reduced to a basic understanding of popular culture and trends, leaving him unable to engage in meaningful conversations beyond small talk or gossip about celebrities.

The mirror erased any memories of Dylan's past relationships—both platonic and romantic—replacing them with fantasies about scoring hot chicks at parties or picking up women at bars using cheesy pickup lines learned from watching reality TV shows like "The Bachelor." His once-loving personality had been completely erased, replaced by an insatiable desire for attention from anyone who could provide him with temporary gratification or validation through social media likes or compliments on his physique which now included muscular abs but also featured excessive tanning.

As the transformation continued, Dylan became as shallow as possible. He wanted nothing more than to bang a hot chick who would make him feel like a real man. The image in his mind was that of a blonde bombshell with big boobs, toned abs, and an ass that wouldn't quit. She had to be tall enough for him to feel dominant over her but also petite enough for him to easily lift her off the ground during their passionate encounters.

Her personality didn't matter; all he cared about was how she looked on his arm at parties or how good she would be in bed (preferably multiple times throughout the night). He envisioned himself taking her out for expensive dinners before whisking her away to some exclusive club where they could dance until dawn while sipping champagne from flutes held aloft by waiters dressed in tuxedos.

The thought of waking up next to this perfect specimen of femininity filled Dylan with an almost primal desire—a need so strong it eclipsed any lingering traces of empathy or compassion he once possessed.

With his newfound confidence and shallow desires, Dylan mindlessly walked towards the nearest bar. He knew he would find plenty of women there who would be interested in someone like him—a tall, muscular guy with money to burn and a cocky attitude to match.

As he entered the dimly lit room filled with people drinking and dancing, his eyes immediately scanned for potential targets. Spotting a group of girls at one end of the bar, he made his way over without hesitation or any thought about being polite or respectful.

"Hey ladies," he said loudly enough for them all to hear as he slid onto an empty stool next to them, "what's up?" His tone was crude but laced with false charm as if this was something he did every night instead of being completely out of character for him just moments ago.

The woman he had addressed turned towards him, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in his appearance. "Not much," she replied curtly before turning back towards her friends and continuing their conversation.

Undeterred by her lack of interest, Dylan leaned closer to the group and spoke directly to the woman again. "So what brings you girls out tonight?" He flashed a fake smile that revealed a row of perfectly white teeth now slightly yellowed from too much alcohol consumption over the years.

The woman rolled her eyes but didn't respond right away, instead choosing to ignore him completely while sipping on her drink nonchalantly.

Feeling emboldened by his new persona, Dylan reached out and grabbed the woman's ass without hesitation or consent. She let out a surprised gasp but didn't move away as he expected her to do. Instead, she turned towards him with a look of amusement in her eyes that made his heart race faster than it had in years.

"Well aren't you just full of surprises?" she said playfully before taking another sip from her drink. "I must admit, I wasn't expecting someone like you to hit on me tonight."

Dylan grinned widely at this small victory, feeling more confident than ever before as he ordered himself another round at the bar while keeping one eye on the group of women across from him.

As the night wore on, Dylan found himself growing more conservative and homophobic. His new persona seemed to thrive on these negative traits, embracing them as part of his identity. He began making crude jokes about gay people, laughing along with his friends at the expense of anyone who didn't fit into their narrow definition of masculinity.

His once-open mind had closed itself off completely, leaving no room for empathy or understanding towards those different from him. Instead, he focused all his energy on maintaining an image that would impress others—a tough guy who wasn't afraid to speak his mind even if it meant hurting someone else's feelings in the process.

Looking into the mirror, Dylan saw a reflection of himself that he barely recognized. Gone was the thoughtful, kind-hearted man he once was; in his place stood Austin—a tall, muscular straight fuckboy with a cocky attitude and an insatiable desire for women.

Austin's hair had grown out slightly longer but still maintained its sleekness thanks to regular trips to the barber. His eyes were now darker and more intense, reflecting his newfound confidence and willingness to take risks without considering consequences or others' feelings. His clothing consisted of designer labels that screamed "money" while showing off just enough skin to be considered tasteful by those who shared similar tastes as him.

Fuckboy Austin was the perfect embodiment of shallow, straight masculinity. He had an impressive physique thanks to hours spent at the gym each week, but he didn't let it go to his head—he knew he could always do better. His wardrobe consisted of expensive designer clothes that fit him perfectly, showing off his toned abs and broad shoulders while remaining tasteful enough for any upscale event or club scene.

His personality was just as well-crafted as his appearance; he had a cocky attitude that made women swoon but also came across as arrogant when dealing with others who didn't meet his high standards for attractiveness or success. He loved nothing more than hitting on beautiful women at bars and clubs before taking them home for a night filled with passionate sex followed by morning-after regrets on their part, which only served to fuel Austin's ego even further.

Fuckboy Austin lived a life filled with meaningless hookups, expensive nights out at clubs, and endless self-improvement efforts to maintain his perfect physique. He spent hours each day at the gym, lifting weights and running on treadmills while listening to motivational speeches on his headphones. His diet consisted mainly of protein shakes and pre-workout supplements that he believed gave him an edge over other guys trying to score with the same women as him.

Austin was also quite popular on social media platforms like Instagram and TikTok where he shared videos of himself flexing in front of mirrors or giving workout tips for those looking to get into shape themselves. His follower count continued growing daily thanks largely in part due to his good looks but also because many found inspiration in seeing someone so dedicated towards achieving physical perfection.

As far as hobbies went, Austin didn't have any real interests outside of working out or picking up chicks at bars; however, this lack of depth didn't seem bother him much since it allowed him more time focus solely on improving himself physically instead wasting energy pursuing meaningful relationships or intellectual pursuits.

Fuckboy Austin's life revolved around one thing: himself. He spent every waking moment thinking about how he could improve his appearance, his social status, or his chances with the latest hot girl who had caught his eye. His days were filled with trips to the gym followed by hours spent on social media, where he would post pictures of himself flexing or posing in front of mirrors while wearing nothing but a pair of tight briefs.

His nights were even more action-packed as he would hit up various clubs and bars looking for new conquests to add to his ever-growing list of notches on his bedpost. He had no qualms about using cheesy pickup lines or playing mind games with women just so they would give him their numbers or agree to go home with him later that night. Once he had secured a willing partner (or two), Austin would shower them with compliments and gifts before taking them back home for an evening filled with passionate sex followed by morning-after regrets on their part (which only served as fuel for Austin's already massive ego).

Despite all this success, there was still something missing from Fuckboy Austin's life—a sense of purpose beyond superficial pleasures like material possessions and casual encounters. Deep down inside, he knew that there must be more out there than just endless parties and meaningless hookups; however, those thoughts were quickly pushed aside whenever another beautiful woman crossed paths with him at some trendy nightclub.

[xhoneygirlxx]

because work has been kicking my ass and i'm a wh*re for virgin Eddie, here is this small little blurb as a treat :)

virgin!eddie x reader (reader and Eddie are both in their 20s)

rated r: smut, oral receiving, swearing, mentions of sex. (18+ minors GO AWAY)

You and Eddie sit on the small couch in his trailer living room, the blue glow from the tv highlighting him in the most beautiful way. The eerie music of Halloween plays through the tinny speakers, the soundtrack of your night. Although the metal head has watched this movie more than he can count, you can’t help but notice your best friend has become instantly tense the moment Lynda’s tits appear on screen.

Eddie’s virginity wasn’t a secret in your friendship, he’d constantly asked you for advice on how to please his partner when the day finally came, but watching him squirm in his seat at glimpse of bare tits makes your heart melt. To be completely honest you had a crush on your bestie for as long as you can remember, to be fair who wouldn’t? You’ve thought about him a few times when your hands were in between your legs, fingers pumping in and out of your sopping cunt.

You’ve thought about offering taking Eddie’s virginity but you would hate to take something so special from him especially when it should be with someone he loves. So you kept your offer to yourself, helped him with any advice he’d asked, and remained supportive in his search of a partner.

The continuous bounce of Eddie’s knee pulls your attention from the screen, too entertained by his constant fidgeting. The scene that got him so riled up as now ended with the pretty blonde being killed but his growing length beneath his jeans continues to strain against the unforgiving material.

Even though it’s selfish and you’re dying to know what he hides beneath his pants, you give in and ask him the one thing you’ve been dying to ever since the two of you turned eighteen.

“Eds, are you good?” Leaning forward, you curl your legs underneath your bum.

His head snaps towards you, eyes bugged out and cheeks flushed. “M-me? Yeah I’m fine, m’good.”

Eddie nods his head slowly, not only trying to convince you of his words but also himself. Your face falls, mouth pulling into a straight line clearly unamused by his horrible acting.

“Okay let’s try this again but this time tell me the truth,” You say sternly, “are you good?”

Letting his head fall to the back of the couch, Eddie closed his eyes and lets out a harsh breath. “I’m just, the movie it’s,”

The nervousness in his voice won’t let him finish his sentence, every thought in his brain melting together in a bowl of mumbo jumbo.

Placing your hand on his thigh, a little higher than usual, you look up at him from under your lashes. “Her tits got you all hot and bothered, is that it?”

Snapping his eyes open down at you, he stares at you as you spoke in a completely different language. Having too much fun with his blush intensifying, you lean forward just a bit more putting your cleavage on display.

“It hurts, huh? Feels like you’re gonna burst at any moment.” Your voice is sweet like sugar, dripping with an intoxicating amount of intensity that Eddie’s never heard.

His hands that sit by his sides clench and unclench, jitters pouring through him at an alarming rate. Too dumb to speak he nods, curls bouncing with every motion.

“Awe baby, s’okay,” you coo as you hook your legs over his thighs, “if you want I can make it all better. Want me to kiss it better?”

Eddie stares at you unblinkingly, mouth parted slightly in awe. Again he nods but this time you tsk at him, shaking your head back and forth in disapproval.

“I asked you a question, honey, I need your words. Do you want me to make it better?” You pout your lips at him and he swallows harshly.

“Please make it better, hurts s’bad.” He slurs, already drunk off your touch without even really feeling it just yet.

“Such a good boy begging me so nicely.”

Slowly you move forward, capturing his soft lips into a needy kiss. Despite being a virgin Eddie does a good job kissing you, not going overboard with too much tongue or sloppy movements.

Taking a chance and wanting to take care of the growing pulse that grows in between your thighs, you begin to rock hesitantly over his hard length. The intense spark you feel jolting through your veins is verbalized with the wanton moan that rips from Eddie’s throat and vibrates into your mouth.

Picking up your momentum you can’t help but roll your eyes into the back of your head, the rough material of his jeans adding extra intensity to your pulsing bundle of nerves. Eddie isn't any better, his face is flushed red, bangs sticking to his forehead due to the amount of sweat that beads from his hairline, and his chest rattles from all the moaning sobs that leave his open mouth.

Opening your eyes you can't help but snort at Eddie's awkward hand placement. They hang in the air, itching to grasp at something but too nervous to give into the temptation.

Letting your hips come to a complete stop, you gently cup his cheeks in the palm of your hand. Hazy eyes open and look right at you, a thousand tiny specks of glitter shimmer in the big brown pools, sweeping you right into his vortex.

"Eddie honey, do you want to touch me?" Despite the dryness that lingers in your mouth, your words drip and saturate the boy beneath you in love and care.

"If that's okay with you, I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. So like if you don't want me to I won't-" You stop his rambles with a quick kiss to his lips.

Pulling away with a small giggle you look at him the same way he's looking at you, disgustingly in awe.

"I want you to touch me, Eddie. Bet your hands would feel so nice on me, so big and strong."

With the thought of it makes your underwear even wetter, so wet that you know when you get off his lap there will be a big wet stain. Not wanting to wait any longer you pull your shirt over your head, revealing the pretty white lace bra that holds your breast into place.

Eddie looks something like a fish, opening and closing his mouth with unspoken words that get caught in his throat. Although it's funny watching your best friend so speechless, you can't help but adore his childlike wonder.

Gripping his wrists in your hand and pull them towards you placing them on your tits, squeezing his fingers around the doughy flesh causing you to hiss in satisfaction.

"F-fuck you're so hot." It's breathless when it comes out.

Eddie follows your lead, fondling your round breasts in the palms of his big hands. The feeling of his grip causes you to resume your motions, grinding harder on his lap trying to relieve the hammering thump in between your legs.

You remember in the fog of your lust that this wasn't about you, it was in fact about your best friend who is currently trying to hold himself together.

Again you stop your movements, pulling his hands from your lace covered chest, and move from his lap.

"W-wait, what's- what are you doing?" Eddie is more than frantic, he's completely distraught with the absence of your weight on his legs.

Pinching his cheek sweetly, you push his legs apart to create enough room for yourself. Sinking to your knees, you move into the space you've created for yourself.

"I'm doing what I said I was going to do, I'm going to kiss it better." You drag your nails up his jean covered thighs, gazing up at him with doe eyes acting as if you aren't making one of his dreams come true.

"Yeah yeah, fuck okay." Babbling like an idiot, Eddie stares at you completely shocked as if you didn't promise this to him earlier.

Raising your eyebrows at him, you wait for him to catch on to what you're waiting for. It doesn't hit him until you clear your throat and point at the handcuff belt that hold his jeans in place.

"Oh shit, right. Let me just get these off." Going as fast as his shaking hands will allow him, he goes to undo his belt and push his pants just below his balls.

His cock bounces from their confines, hitting his tee shirt covered navel with a small thud. You can't help but gawk at the sight of him. Eddie's packing more than you ever imagined, long and thick with a prominent vein running along the underside. The tip is a pretty pink shade that shines from the pearls of precum that dripples from the slit.

Your mouth fills with saliva just from the sight alone. The dark brown thatch of curls that sit at the base match the hair on his heavy balls. You weren't someone who found genitalia appetizing but man oh man was did your best friend's look good enough to eat.

The small silence that settled between you two has clearly made Eddie anxious. His chocolate brown eyes look anywhere but you and the thick chunky rings that sit on his fingers have become his clear fascination, twisting them around and around his thick digits.

Not wanting him to sit with his thoughts any longer, you lean up enough to capture his kiss bitten lips in a passionate kiss. This time it's all teeth and tongue, spit swapping between the two of you.

When you both pull away you wish you could continue kissing him, fuck the oxygen that you need all you want is Eddie.

Sitting back down on your knees, you let spit dripple down onto his stiff shaft. Clasping your hand around him you begin to jerk him off slowly, not wanting the moment to be over fast.

Eddie on the other hand is fighting for his life, lip pulled between his teeth and his eyebrows pinching together. You drink it up like a plant in the middle of a drought.

"You're s'pretty, Eds and your cock, fuck it's so pretty too." You coo, to prove your point you press kisses up and down his length.

"Mmm s-shit, your ha- your hand feels so good." Eddie's voice is completely strained, his jugular vein pocking out every once and a while.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that Eddie's nearing the end, the shaking and tensing of his thighs a clear sign. Wanting him to experience it all, you envelope the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and licking along the slit to collect the salty bead of pre that beads out of it.

Moving your mouth lower, you take him halfway into your mouth and allow your hand to jerk off whatever you can't take. The hand that braces itself on his thigh snakes its way to the heavy sack that sits just below his cock, kneading it in the palm of your hand gently.

Without needing instruction Eddie's hand finds it's way to your head, gripping your hair at the scalp and pulling out it with vigor. The pain and arousal that sparks within you causes you to moan around him, making him sob out in ecstasy.

"F-uh, oh don't stop I'm gonna- shit I'm gonna cum!"

Moving your head as fast as you can, you move to the tip to avoid chocking on the salty release. Still pumping your hand up and down on his cock you collect his warm seed in your mouth, letting it pool on your tongue.

Above you Eddie is a screaming mess, blabbing nonsense and groaning loudly. To no one's surprise Eddie cums and he cums a lot, so much so that it starts to dripple out the sides of your mouth with the string of your spit.

Once his breath returns to his lungs and his grip loosens on your hair, you let him fall out of your mouth with a lewd pop. When your eyes make eye contact with his own, you open your mouth to show him the pearly white of his release that sits on your pink tongue. Closing your mouth and swallowing it with a loud hum, you open your eyes to see Eddie completely gobsmack.

"Jesus sweetheart, you can't do shit like that unless you want me to get hard again." He says with an airy laugh.

You take his words as a threat, one that you'd be stupid not to take with the way your pussy flutters in need.

"Who said I was done, Munson?"

[infoglitch]

i beg of thee... please... more blackguard stuff. am dyin over here...

It appears the sinners have demanded my attention.

Very well, it's time

TO LOCK THE FUCK IN!

Back bone.

Jaune found himself sitting in his dorm gaming with ruby and surprisingly Weiss was with them, watching as the two were playing "street clash revolve" with jaune winning 3 matches as it was a best of six. With ruby winning 4 matches.

Jaune: Oop! Oop! Here it comes ruby!

Ruby: oh you think?! Aight bring it vomit boy!

Jaune proceed to tap a chain of buttons.

Up forward and then B as jaune shouted with enthusiasm.

Jaune: KANE OVERDRIVE!

On the TV screen the letters K. O. plastered the screen as Ruby groaned but also laughed as her and jaune fist bump. With Weiss watching in awe.

Ruby: GG jaune, GG.

Jaune: what you mean GG? We only got two rounds left before one of us wins.

Ruby: unfortunately I gotta get ready.me and yang will be heading to our dad's cabin for our break, and I gotta grab my bags and get ready, me and her will leave in an hour.

Jaune: awe, well I understand

Weiss: you sure you two and your father couldn't reschedule?

Jaune and Ruby had to do a double take as they looked at Weiss who they completely forgot was there.

Weiss:... Look I'm on the edge of my seat and I want to see who wins!

Jaune and Ruby look at eachother.

Jaune: are you sure we aren't sharing a dream?

Ruby: definitely. But regardless sorry Weiss but I gotta go, if don't who knows when me and yang will be able to go again.

Weiss sighed and nodded.

Weiss: very well, I do hope you and Yang enjoy your time back with your father.

Ruby:.. thanks weiss

Ruby walked out as jaune and Weiss sat on the formers bed with Jaune just looking at Weiss.

Jaune: hey um.. real talk, but why have you been so interested in what me and ruby do lately.

Weiss: oh just curiosity, plus I figured it do me some good to get to hang out with my leader and her friend.

Jaune looked at her as he put his controller away and fully turned to her.

Jaune: it's Bleiss isn't it?

Weiss just sat there before groaning.

Weiss: i don't know why but whenever I try to be Alone she constantly pops up and bugs me over and over again, its getting frustrating and since i cant be alone any more-

Jaune: you started hanging out with me and ruby?

Weiss nodded and looked away somewhat ashamed.

Jaune: so I assume you dont actually find what we do to hang out interesting?

Weiss: at first yes but just being around you two, there's this energy you give off that is just.. nice to be around, your like air purifiers... That was a bad analogy I'm sorry.

Jaune just chuckled but waved his hand.

Jaune: I think I understand. But outside of that.. Weiss this is your sister we are talking about. And neither of you have seen eachother for...

Weiss:... 5 years.

Jaune: 5 years, and from what i can tell, she wants to atleast catch up.

Weiss: it's not like I don't know that! Its just- why can't she just be-

Jaune: normal? Weiss your normal is based around fancy balls and gala's. How Bleiss is acting is normal. Shes being herself. Shes being&

Weiss: loud, foul mouthed, and is flirting with basically every man here?

Jaune: yeah that. All I'm gonna say is this, siblings may come from the same family, but they don't always have the same lessons as us... I can't believe I actually used the advice saph gave me.

Weiss chuckled as she just looked at the knight. The two hadn't completely become friends but jaune hoped they were getting there, and so far from he could tell.. they were.

Then footsteps are heard as one Belamere "bleiss" noir givrése. Weiss Schnee's twin sister. Her attire still the same biker aesthetic as ever with her looking around the room, before seeing jaune.

Bleiss: ah you jaune I wanna talk to you for a second.

To both Jaune and Weiss's her tone was less rude and more... polite.

Weiss: where the hell was this?!

Jaune: uh sure just give me a second.

Bleiss: take your time but this is rather important.

Weiss: WHERE THE HELL WAS THIS?!

Jaune adjusted himself as he followed Bleiss outside the room only to be pinned to the wall as he yelped before being hushed by the twin of his snow angel.

Bleiss: I need your help arc, my dear sister and I have obviously not gotten along. So I need you to help me out here since you, Weiss, and that ruby girl, are buddy-buddy now. Got it?

Jaune simply nodded as Bleiss smiled.

Bleiss: good. And If you do well enough who knows.. I may give you a taste of people out of your leag-

Jaune removed her hand from his mouth rather calmly as he spoke.

Jaune: don't even think about it, I'm doing this because Weiss is my friend, and I prefer her not having to deal with any problem that can be solved. I don't care what you give in exchange.

Bleiss:.. that's surprisingly noble. Here I was thinking he was just a loser going for women out of his league.

Jaune: are we done now?

Bleiss: hm? Oh yes, I'll be going now, till then, noble knight~

Jaune raised an eyebrow at the nickname as Bleiss walked away with a smirk.

Bleiss: perhaps this place is nothing like vacoue, and if that's the case this will be lovely~

And that end this installment of the growing story between Bleiss and Jaune.

[bloodredfeathers]

Hair

What I think it would be like to play with the hair of the boys with long hair

Characters: Jamil Viper, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia, Leona Kingscholar

A/N: Nobody begged me not to write anything else so I'm assuming my last fic was okay, anyways here's my second thingie enjoy it :3

Gender neutral reader, you/your pronouns

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jamil Viper

You know his hair is silky smooth and super soft fjfkdhdkfhd

Just imagine braiding it for him

Sitting on his bed while he's kneeling on a pillow on the floor

And as you start to do his hair he closes his eyes and leans back

He feels so relaxed for once

"Just don't pull too hard, okay?" Jamil was incredibly hesitant to allow you to lay even a finger on his hair. As a retainer, he has to keep up his appearance to set an example, so although he trusted you, he couldn't afford to have something bad happen to ruin said appearance.

"Also don't take too long," he mumbled. "The game against Royal Sword Academy starts in around forty five minutes."

"Relax, you'll be fine!" You said cheerfully. "Just trust in my abilities!"

Jamil raised an eyebrow before turning his back to you, allowing you access to his hair. Carefully and patiently, you began your work, starting by creating a couple of thin French braids on the left side of his head. Jamil shuddered slightly. He usually did his own hair, and therefor the feeling of someone else doing it for him was very foreign.

Gently, you gathered up his hair atop his head, securing it in place in a neat bun. The braids snug but not uncomfortable, he felt somewhat relaxed and comforted by the fact that you were so gentle and caring with him.

"It looks nice," he complimented your work as he looked in the mirror. "It doesn't feel loose but it's not uncomfortable. Thank you."

"Of course!" You beamed. "Now go kick RSA's ass!"

Idia Shroud

Please it would take SO long for him to not freak out over you even looking at him, let alone playing with his hair

But his hair is warm and soft, and the way it moves is very flamelike

Of course, it's not hot enough to burn you

Even though blue flames are the hottest flame-

But still, his hair would be super soft and the feeling of it would be almost like running your hand through water

Like yeah it feels and acts like normal hair but it still has that sort of flowy liquid behavior to it if ykwim

"Idiaaaaa," you said in a singsongy voice. "When are you gonna be done with that game?"

"Just give me like...ten minutes," Idia didn't look away from the screen, but you could tell he was super excited. "I've been trying to complete this Elden Ring quest for like two days now and I keep on failing but this is the closest I've ever gotten to doing it!"

You smiled and stood from his bed, walking over and watching from behind him. You noticed his hair moving a bit quicker than usual, as it typically does when he's hyped up about something. Reaching out your hand, you felt his hair flow around it, gently caressing your hand. He didn't notice at first, but then you reached higher and ran your fingers down his scalp into his tresses, staring in awe at how they carefully danced around.

"H-hey! What are you doing?!" He nearly shrieked as he realized you were there. The tips of his hair began to glow a bright pink.

"Your hair is so beautiful..." You said, mesmerized.

Idia's hair went from pink tipped to nearly pink throughout as he became even more flustered at you complimenting him so easily. He brought his hoodie up to his face to hide his uncontrollable grin as your fingers danced through his hair.

"Do you like when I do this?" You asked him. He felt his face heat up and he couldn't speak, so he nodded, kind of aggressively. You giggled and gathered it into a ponytail before combing through it, feeling its lazy flow and comforting heat.

You could swear he's the robot and not Ortho from how he literally malfunctioned.

Malleus Draconia

Okay so idk I feel like his hair is super soft but kind of tangled

No bc hear me out

Lilia usually brushes it for him but he's been slacking a bit so it's a little tangled

So you go to do it for him

And you're shocked at how soft his hair is even though it's so tangled up

Lemme paint the picture rq

"Do you have a hairbrush?" You asked Malleus as you sat on his bed. He nodded and picked up probably the most extravagant hairbrush you had ever seen from atop a dresser. Made of what looked like pure silver and twisted in a Victorian Era style, it looked like an antique. He handed it to you and you took it carefully.

"Lilia used to use this to brush my hair for me but he's become a bit preoccupied with his other responsibilities," Malleus explained. "Therefore, he hasn't had much time to do some of the things he used to."

"Come here, sit in front of me," you beckoned him and tossed a throw pillow onto the floor in front of where your legs dangled. Malleus cocked his head slightly but did as you asked. Even sitting on his knees, he was almost at the same height as you sitting on the bed.

"What are you doing, child of man?" Malleus asked cautiously.

"Just trust me, Tsunotaro," you said reassuringly. He seemed to visibly relax then, and you began working. Gently untangling his hair, brushing slowly, starting from the bottom and working your way to the top. Malleus had incredibly thin and smooth hair, and not very much of it, just enough for a long, thin ponytail. Or...a braid...

Once his hair was untangled (no thanks to his horns getting in the way), you brushed your fingers through it, separated it into equal sections, and begun to braid.

Malleus was enjoying himself. He could bear with the slightly numb legs if it meant having his child of man work the magic they were. After you finished the braid, you smoothed down and fixed his bangs and showed him in the mirror.

He loved it.

Leona Kingscholar

Oh

Oh no

Bestie wyd I hope you have a lot of free time cuz this bitch has tangles for YEARS

I'm sorry Leona I love you but tame that literal mane

Ik you're lazy but for Yuu's sake-

But if you're gonna untangle his hair it'll hurt so PLEASE PET HIS EARS AND MAYBE GIVE THEM A ✨KITH✨ OR TWO

"Ow!" Leona yelled. "What'd ya go an' do that for, herbivore?!"

"Sorry!" You protested. "How is your hair even this tangled in the first place?"

Leona huffed and closed his eyes again.

"I don't have time to take care of it," he muttered. You held back a laugh. If he had enough time for all of the sleeping he does he SURELY had enough time to spare two minutes to brush his hair out every once in a while.

You continued your seemingly futile attempts at untangling Leona's wild locks. Little by little, you combed through and worked out as many knots as you could. Soon enough (not soon at all), his hair was smooth and without any tangles. Leona had to admit, the lack of tangles made him feel good, especially when you gently massaged his scalp and pet his ears.

"We're all done," you said softly. "If you need it taken care of again, please just ask. I don't want you to have to suffer like that again."

You gently kissed the top of his head and he felt his face heat up immensely.

"Whatever herbivore..." He paused for a second before burying his face in your stomach. "Thank you..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ok so that's done finally

Any requests? Feel free to ask!

💥Akira💥

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 37

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📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

— TW: OFF-SCREEN TORTURE. NON-CONSENSUAL KISS INVOLVING CHILD.

Hey, everyone :) Please be mindful that this chapter is pretty intense. If what's listed in the TWs isn't something you're comfortable reading, kindly skip this chapter and read the end notes for a summary.

A few hours later, once the sun begins to sink below the windowsill and turn the room orange, the front door slams shut.

I can't see him from where I'm curled up in the cramped space between the sofa and the wall, crying and sniffling into my hands, but I can tell it's Merle just by the weight of his footsteps and the sound of him dumping his keys on the kitchen counter. He calls out for me — "Harley? Why's the door unlocked?" — but I keep my mouth shut, 'cause I know he's gonna find me, anyway.

His boots appear in my line of sight, stopping before he sighs to himself. "Aw, shit."

As he crouches down in front of me, I rub the wetness from my eyes and bravely meet his gaze. He always hates it when I cry, but he especially hates it when I don't look him in the eye. It's one of the many, random things he finds disrespectful.

"What's wrong?" He asks, lookin' more confused than anything. "C'mon, cry-baby. What happened?"

"There was a man in here," I whisper, watching his expression turn to stone.

"Like Hell there was."

"He had keys," I continue frantically. "I wasn't gonna let him in, I swear. He said his name was Philip and—"

"Of course it was fuckin' Philip."

"—And he said he was gonna cut Daddy's th-throat open if I didn't tell him where our group is," I exclaim.

"And did ya?"

"I ain't told him shit, but he said he'd be back!"

While I was sitting here, waiting for Merle to return, I thought about climbing out the window or leaving through the front door to go and help Dad and Glenn, but I'll admit it. I got scared, and this hiding spot seemed a lot more appealing than out there.

He pins me with a meaningful look. "Ya say he only talked to ya?"

"Uh-huh," I sniffle, nodding.

"He ain't done nothin' else?"

I shake my head, tears quickly gathering in my eyes again. "He said he'd cut his throat open, Merle! I'm worried about 'em!"

As soon as the words come outta my mouth, I catch him trying not to roll his eyes. "Girl, I left you with a box of snacks and all the movies a kid could ever want, and now you're all upset? Come on, now. You ain't already know what was gonna happen?"

I knew we weren't gonna be popular here, but I ain't thought anybody would get they throat cut!

Glaring at him, I ask, "What, and you did?"

"Jesus." He looks down at his boots, chewing on his cheek before he meets my gaze again. "Yeah, I knew, okay?"

"And you let—?"

"I told you. My hands are tied," He explains, lowering his voice. "I ain't the golden child that makes all the decisions here. But like I said, I went to see yer Dad. And for yer information, yer Uncle Merle's the only reason he's got food and water right now."

Oh. Great. Dad's gonna get murdered in a cellar, but at least he's got food and water.

He adds, "I ain't yer enemy, here, alright?"

"He don't need food and water," I say, offended he thinks that's what any of us want. "We need to go home!"

"Wanna tell me where that is, then? End all'a this?"

That shuts me up.

Conflicted, I stare him down, knowing I won't say it. Despite everything, I can't. I know it'd be the wrong thing to do.

"Okay." He grins sarcastically. "So, we're gonna go with my plan, then. Good to know."

"What is your plan?"

"To not let ya Daddy get killed. So, get up," He reaches out for me, grabbing my arm and forcing me to my feet. "He's refusin' to say anythin' until we prove you're alright, so now we gotta take a lil' field trip back down to the blocks together. Let's go."

I gasp as he drags me over to the front door. "I get to see Dad?" 

"He's holdin' a guard at gunpoint as we speak, so, yeah. They're takin' him serious."

As he grabs his keys, I ask, "Was you there when he did that?"

"Nah. I just talked to him a lil' bit a few hours ago. Was out by the gates when they told me to come get ya."

"Wait."

I suddenly come to a stop, diggin' my heels into the carpet so he can't drag me any further.

He turns to look at me. "What?"

Feeling proud of myself, I decide, "I'm only lettin' ya take me to see Dad if you promise to let Glenn see a doctor."

If Dad's allowed to threaten people to get what he wants, so do I.

"Like I can't just throw ya over my shoulder, anyway," He jokes. "Ya weigh about as much as a tin of beans."

"I'll kick and scream the whole way," I warn him, and I'm dead serious.

Merle considers me for a moment, before he sighs in defeat and pulls the door open. "Fine."

"Yes!"

"Let's go."

The five-minute walk from Merle's apartment to the abandoned building leaves me with just enough time for my anxiety to settle back into my bones, though I guess it never really left, always a firm sediment permanently fixed to the bottom of my stomach.

My palms begin to sweat as we approach the cellar doors, feeling like I'm about to jump off a tall building.

When Merle knocks on them, they're opened from the other side by an angry-lookin' man who gestures for us to enter.

Oh, man, I think to myself as we descend the concrete steps, our movements echoing loudly off the walls, It's cold down here. The light slips away as the doors close behind us, reminding me of the hundreds of tunnels in the depths of the prison, where even the sun and the fresh air can't reach. I feel a chill creep up my skin as I huddle closer behind Merle, afraid of the guards' lingering gazes.

"Bring her in here," Dad's distant voice echoes. "Bring her in here right now, or this bastard loses his brains!"

I think of Merle's apartment as we make our way down the long corridor.

It's strange to think that he lives just around the corner from this nightmare, as if the flower beds let him forget about it.

"They're comin'!" A guard shouts back at Dad. "Don't shoot!"

With each door we pass, I wonder, Is that the one?

Until we come to a stop at the very last door, and Merle gives a meaningful look to the guard standing outside it. This is it.

"So, you're that psycho's daughter," The stranger muses to himself in distaste, before he grabs the doorknob and pushes it open.

The very first thing I see is my Dad standing in the middle of the room, holding a man to his chest with a gun to his head. His whole body tenses, posturing himself for a fight, fingers clenching around the grip, before he realizes that it's just me.

"Harley," He exhales with his whole chest and throws the gun to the ground, running up to me.

I wrap my arms around him as the guard makes a noise of relief, snatching up his gun and scrambling outta the room.

The door slams shut behind him.

"Harley," He says again, pulling back and cupping my face in his dirty hands. "Fuck. Them bastards told me they—..."

"I'm alright," I assure him with a shake of my head, but I ain't as relieved as he is, not even enough to return the small smile on his lips, the tender, beaten expression on his face. He's— He looks worse than he ever has. His nose is bent the wrong way like it belongs to a different person, leaking fresh blood onto the already dried, tacky blood caked onto his upper lip. It tracks lines back up his pinkened cheeks, looking like reverse tears, pooling into his hairline as if they had him hanging upside down. "A-are you okay?"

Remembering what the scary man said, I check his neck. There's no slice or mark from a blade, but there are colorful bruises blooming in a line over his Adam's apple that look a bit like the milky way galaxy. It's awful. I think he must've been strangled. 

"Don't worry about me," He croaks, touching his fingers to the browned, purple skin. "It's nothin'."

"Daddy, I don't like this anymore," I desperately confess. "At first, I thought it was gonna be okay because Merle was with us, and he said they was only gonna question ya, but now they're sayin' they gonna kill ya, and we can't go hom—"

"Shh," He croons. "Shhhh, no, no, no."

Gently, he leads me over to the blanket crumpled up against the wall, sitting down on it and setting me in his lap.

"Shh. No more of that," He whispers, leaning his chin on the top of my head, too weak to talk any louder. "You been at Merle's?"

Yeah. Let's talk about something else.

Staring at a stain on the floor, I answer, "We talked and he left for a while, so I watched a movie."

His chest rumbles beneath me as he chuckles, his breath warm on my scalp, before I feel him shudder, sniffle.

Oh. I realize he's crying quietly to himself.

"Movie, huh?" He eventually murmurs, his voice thin and shaky. "That's real good. That's good, baby. Which one?"

Whatever they told Dad they was doing to me, it must've been bad. It might've even been that they was cuttin' my throat open, because if I heard that Dad was had only been watching movies this whole time, I'd be just as relieved. But it ain't true.

Ignoring the bruises on his arm, I say, "Somethin' with a lotta gun fights."

"It weren't that corny one with the robot-soldiers he always liked, was it?"

"I think it was."

"Well, that's worse'un anythin' they been puttin' me through," He jokes, sniffing wetly. His breath hitches before he groans and coughs something thick and red onto the floor. I feel his muscles loosen as he sighs heavily. "Used to hate it when he put that shit on."

A fat, white tooth sits in the middle of the puddle of blood like a pearl.

"He got cartoons, too," I add, hoping he finds it a little bit funny. "Got a whole bunch of 'em."

"Remind me to bring that up later, huh?"

"Shit!"

I flinch.

At the sound of Glenn's muffled cry coming from the other side of the wall, I straighten, calling out, "Glenn?"

"Harley?" He shouts back, panicked. "Oh, my G— You animals! Let her go!"

"She's with me," Dad cuts him off sternly. "She's alright."

"Oh. Oh, thank God. Are you guys safe?"

"There's nobody else in here wit'us, if that's what'chu mean."

I hear a door slam shut.

"What's that?" Dad asks him. "You alone, too?"

"It was some guy," He groans, and I imagine him sitting with his back against Dad's, with only the wall to separate us from each other and it makes me feel a little better. "He wrapped gauze around my thigh and gave me some pills. Hope it wasn't poison."

"I threatened Merle on the way here, Glenn," I proudly tell him. "He promised me he'd let you see a doctor."

"He didn't look like any doctor I've ever seen," He jokes. "But thank you, Harley. That was kind."

"Smart," Dad agrees fondly. "Guess I'm sorry I ain't thought of it."

"It's alright, man," Glenn says. "If it was me who had that guard at gunpoint, I would've asked to see Harley, too."

I ask, "It still hurt?"

"Uh. No. No, don't worry." It's easy to tell he's lying. "I feel better already."

"We gotta get the fuck outta here," Dad grumbles lowly because he can tell, too, but nobody says anything else after that.

It's a little difficult with all the gray, concrete walls and the single lightbulb hanging down from the ceiling by a thin, red wire, but I imagine I'm in the forest. Any forest. It's where I'd be all the time if I could. I'm in the forest and I can see the sky, clear and blue above me, reminding me that I have nothing to worry about because maybe I'm a leaf on a bush or a thorny flower, blowing softly in the breeze. 

I can't picture the smaller details, but that's alright. All that matters is that I can see the sky.

The forest blows away like sand in the wind when the door opens.

Lifting my head from my Dad's shoulder, I blink away the grogginess that sticks behind my eyes, adjusting to the dim light of the room. I must've fallen asleep, dreaming about clouds. I think for a moment that I'm in my old bedroom again, curled up in Dad's lap after he drifted off while reading me a bed time story, but I'm quickly reminded of where I am when Philip's voice fills the room.

"I almost thought you were a total monster," He says as I turn to look at him. "But you're just a Dad."

He slowly stalks into the room, smiling nicely as a guard follows him in and closes the door.

"There's always two sides to a person." He comes to a stop just a few feet from us. "She looks just like you. I didn't notice until now."

Dad's fingers curl tighter around me, glaring up at the man through his brows, saying nothing.

"Hm?" Philip chirps with a little shrug. "What's the matter, Daryl? Not in the mood to spit on my face again?"

"I will be," He rasps lowly, "Once y'all take Harley back to my brother's."

"Back to your brother's? I think I remember you threatening to kill one of my men unless we brought her in here." His smile grows into a friendly grin, flashing his perfectly clean teeth at us. His hair, gray and healthy, hangs down in the shapes of crescent moons against his temples, like it's come loose in a fight — The only imperfection to his neat appearance. "She can stay. Tell me, how old is she?"

"Take Harley back to my brother's," Dad warns him again, voice dropping into a growl.

"I'd say she looks eight. Maybe nine," Philip guesses. "You know, that's around my daughter's age."

Slowly, my Dad stands up, matching the man's height. "This ain't got nothin' to do with her. You got a kid, you'll understand."

"I've also got a town to keep safe. If you were a leader, you'd understand." He retorts calmly, nodding to the table. "Now, sit."

The guard leaning against the wall smirks at us.

Breathing harshly, nostrils flared, Dad glances down at me. We have to do as he says. Realizing this, he grabs my hand and we carefully make our way over to the round table in the middle of the room, the glow of the light bulb lending it a soft, yellow hue. 

I sit down in the closest chair, Dad taking the one opposite mine as Philip takes up the head of the table.

As we sit together in an uncomfortable silence, I notice I was wrong.

Philip's unkempt hair is far from his only imperfection — I just had to see him under a better light for them to make themselves known, like noticing a scuff on a window only when the sun hits it, or peeling back a bandage to reveal a hideous wound. I begin to squirm anxiously, unable to take my eyes off him. His forearms are littered with tiny droplets of blood, red freckles against the beige of his clean skin, a large splotch smeared over the glass of his expensive watch, still tick, tick, ticking away with each second that passes.

Strangely, his tie is still perfectly straight.

"Let me tell you this, Daryl." He doesn't take his eyes off Dad, and Dad doesn't take his eyes off him, matching his cool gaze with an impossibly hot, angry one. If he could, he'd tackle this man to the ground. Philip leans back in his chair, looking like he enjoys Dad's obvious struggle. "I don't want to hurt your daughter. I've done a lot of things for this town, but hurting children isn't one of them."

"Daryl?" Glenn shouts from the other room, earning only silence. "Daryl, is Harley still in there?"

"But if you make me hurt her," He continues cooly, "I won't have any problems with that."

Glancing down, I watch Dad's knuckles turn white as he claws anxiously at his thighs.

"Harley, can you hear me? Are you okay?"

"Like I said." His smile turns smug. "There's always two sides to a person."

"Harley?"

I want to answer Glenn, but I'm scared that if I do, it might make Philip angry. I can't make Philip angry.

"I already told you when you was beatin' my face in earlier," Dad mutters angrily. "They cut us loose months ago."

"No, that story's not gonna cut it anymore," Philip sighs in frustration. "Your brother told me he had a chat with your daughter and that she said your group is probably worried about where you've been all day. How can those two things be true at once?"

I see the breath leave Dad's body, defeat taking over his expression. Oh, no. I messed up. I messed it all up.

"You know kids. They never lie."

When Philip looks at me, my whole body stiffens.

I ruined Dad's story. I—I didn't mean to give anything away, I swear. I didn't even know I was giving anything away when I was talking to my Uncle Merle. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. How could I have not realized he and Glenn were probably gonna lie?

"So, now that we've got that out in the open — Here's how this is gonna go."

Dad won't look at me, but I wish he would so that he could see I'm sorry.

"I'm going to ask you three times where your people are." Philip leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. "The first two times, you're going to tell me to go fuck myself, or to go to Hell, or what-not. But the third time, you're going to tell me."

I flinch as a dull thud comes from the other side of the wall, Glenn crying out in pain.

Philip doesn't flinch at all. "Where are your people?"

Shaking his head in disgust, my Dad lets out a weak, sarcastic chuckle. "Go fuck yourself. My daughter doesn't need to be here."

Nodding, Philip simply asks again, "Where are your people?"

Glenn cries out again in the silence that follows, and again, and again, the blunt sounds of a fist coming down on his body making me flinch each time as if I'm the one being hit. It's such an awful thing to listen to, but Dad's refusing to fill the silence and Philip seems more than happy to let us stew in it. I feel like I've been tied to this chair, unable to move, but it's just his presence that's keeping me down.

"Okay," Philip mutters after a minute or two, taking a deep breath, and reaching for his holster.

My Dad's eyes go wide, and that's the last thing that happens before Philip's pointing a gun at my head. My blood runs cold. Oh. I stare into the barrel. It's a single, black eye staring straight into mine, a slender finger resting on the trigger.

Don't move, Harley, I tell myself, even though my hands are shaking, And it'll be okay.

"This will be the last time," He says. "Where are your people?"

Squeezing my eyes shut, a tear slips down my cheek.

When I open them again, my Dad is looking at me. I don't think I've ever seen him look this scared, not even when our house got robbed when I was seven, or when Merle sniffed all that powder and broke a window, or when Tank got injured. He's never scared. If I could tell ya one thing about my Dad, it's that. He's the bravest, toughest person I know, who right now, looks absolutely terrified.

He's gonna tell him, I think, already mourning the moment he does. He's gonna tell him.

Sniffling, swallowing down whimpers, I hope he can tell that I won't be angry at him for it. Rick wouldn't be, neither.

"Meriweather County prison."

A hiccup escapes me. My chest violently shudders, filled with heavy dread. He told him.

None of us are safe, anymore. Not even Judith. We're— We're gonna have to move, or hide,— O-or maybe we can't do anything. Maybe when they come and take everything we own and all the people I love are dead, I'll think of this moment.

"That's where they are," He adds, quiet, ashamed.

Philip's smile returns.

"Look at that. I could just get him to do anything like this, couldn't I, Harley?" He chuckles, but I just can't stop crying, not even if I hold my breath like my Daddy taught me how, or if I imagine something nice, something that isn't a gun pointed at my head, or my Dad's bruised face, or the guard standing in the corner, watching this play out. "Your big, strong Dad. Have you ever seen him dance?"

"Just stop," I beg him. "Ya wanted to know where our group was, and he— he told ya. Just s-stop."

"C'mon, Daryl." He grins at him, ignoring me. "Stand up. Give us a little dance while you're feeling so compliant."

My Dad reluctantly rises from his seat, and I wish I didn't have to watch. I want to tell him, it's alright, because that's what he would tell me. This whole thing is almost over. Just do as he says. After standing there for a moment, embarrassed, looking at the floor, he starts to awkwardly do the hustle. The sound of his boots shuffling against the floor fills the room and somehow it's crueller than watching him be punched or kicked or strangled because at least then, I could see the thing that's being broken and it would be dignified.

Philip's chuckling to himself, enjoying the show. I feel the overwhelming urge to ask him what the Hell is wrong with him.

"It's like being at one of my daughter's ballet recitals all over again," He laughs. "I'd like to see a spin, Daryl."

Glancing at the gun again, my Dad defeatedly spins in a circle, his expression twisted up in shame.

I think he wishes I didn't have to watch, too.

When he comes to a stop, Philip's laughter dies out, smile lingering like a thin ripple after a tall wave.

He looks at me. "I want you to remember this the next time he says he can protect you. Will you do that for me?"

"I hate you," I seethe through my tears.

"Harley," Dad hisses in desperation, his eyes darting between me and Philip. "Harley, shut the fuck up."

"I hate you."

"Well, that's not nice," Philip croons. I hate him so much. No, I will not remember this the next time Dad says he can protect me. My Dad is brave. He's tough. That ain't gonna change just 'cause this bully humiliates him while he hides behind his gun, too much of a pussy to pick on somebody his own size. I hate, hate, hate him. "'If you don't have anything nice to say'... You know how it goes."

"You're a bully," I spit, feeling the anger simmer up into my face. "You're a crazy, stupid bully and you should die."

"Harley," Dad warns me again. "Harley, baby, please."

"You gonna shoot me like y'all shot my friend, Glenn? Huh?"

"When I shoot you, I won't be doing anything your Dad hasn't already," He tells me. "You're forgetting why you're here."

"We're here 'cause my Dad shot some feller who was tryna kill us!" I shout at him, ignoring the way my Dad keeps begging me to, shut up, Harley. Please, shut up. "And you told me you ain't even liked him, so you can shut the fuck up about it!"

"Are you done?"

"Just leave us the Hell alone, already!" I squeal, furious, panting. "I just— We just— We wanna go h-home."

Whenever I shouted at my Dad or Uncle Merle like this, I'd forget about myself right up until my anger bubbled down and the room went quiet, my heartbeat drumming against my skull the only thing I could hear. Then, everything would become clear to me again, and the anger quickly cooled like a red metal being dunked in a bucket of water, hardening into fear. We would stare each other down for a minute or two, huffing and puffing like offended bulls in a fighting ring until one of us snapped — And it was never me. 

Here, now, Philip doesn't reach for his belt, pull it from its loops, whip it over the backs of my thighs. He doesn't grab me by the ear and bring my face close to his, lecturing me on manners while I nod for every word he says.

All he does is ask one last time, his voice as calm and smooth as a glass lake, "Are you done?"

Gulping, I glance around the room, as if to check it's still the same as it was before I lost my temper.

"You got what'chu wanted," My Dad reminds him. "I did what'chu asked. You know you ain't got no issues with my daughter."

"I do have issues with little potty-mouthed girls who can't hold their tongue," He says, raising a brow at me.

Usually, this is where I'd start babbling, Please, I didn't mean it. I was just angry. But I'm still angry. And I did mean it.

Stubbornly, I say nothing.

"Okay. Harley," He says, light as a feather. "Come and give me an apology kiss, and it'll all be forgiven."

I almost falter.

That's what he wants?

I can't stop myself from mumbling, "What?"

"You heard me."

That's right. I did hear him. A kiss?

Like what Glenn and Maggie do, because they're boyfriend-girlfriend? And Rick and Lori, because they're husband-wife?

Is-is he—? "Are you serious?"

"I don't think you should ever ask that question to a man with a gun to your head," He says smugly. Yes, he's serious.

For some reason, I glance at my Dad to get permission from him, because he'll put me in time-out for giving Philip a kiss without his say-so. It's one of them things I don't need to know all the logistics of to know — to feel — that it's wrong, but he don't look angry with me, even though he and Merle have always told me I ain't allowed to kiss a boy until I was eighteen. He just looks broken.

Looking back at Philip and the expectant look on his face, I force myself to stand from my chair.

It scr-cr-crapes painfully against the floor before I'm on my feet, creeping around the table as he keeps the gun trained on me.

Every step feels like a stride through a minefield, careful, terrifying, bracing myself for the gun to go off if I make the wrong move.

When I come to a stop in front of him, the tear clinging to my jaw slips onto my shirt, soaking through the fabric, onto my skin. It's warm. I think I hear Dad seething something under his breath as Philip leans forward and his nose almost grazes mine.

A kiss. That could also mean the type of kiss my Dad or Maggie or Carol or Lori gives me, right?

A kiss on the cheek?

"You know, in my family," He says, tapping the gun against my lips. "We used to kiss on the mouth. Must be an Italian thing."

I shy away from the cold metal, turning my head to the side as if it's a spoonful of broccoli I don't want anywhere near me. His breath is hot, fanning gently across my chin. The smell of sweat and shampoo mingles together into a thick, poisonous gas and I quicken my breathing, short and shallow pants escaping me just to stop it from entering my lungs, to make it feel a little less real.

"C'mon." He says quieter, looking at me, the little fish he knows he's got on the hook. "Aren't you sorry?"

Glancing down at his mouth — Yes. Yes, I am sorry. I'm sorry I said those things aloud.

Dad tries to talk to me like I'm the only other person in the room — "Harley Dixon, look at me," — but the guard cocks his gun.

I have to do it.

It'll only take one second.

Everything that happens in this room will stay in this room and I'll forget all about it once we're back home.

I kiss Philip on the mouth. It's quick. It's barely there. It's like I'm kissing a hot coal and I don't want to burn myself, and I'm flinching backwards, trying to will away the warm sensation on my mouth as Philip smiles, pleased. I'm gross. I'm so gross.

"That wasn't so hard." I can feel his gravelly voice all over me. I want to go home. "All's forgiven."

"You're sick," My Dad grits through his teeth, tears brimming on his lashes. "A sick motherfucker. Somethin' real wrong with you."

Unbothered, Philip stands from his chair. "I'll leave you to figure out what that is, then." 

"I wanna talk to my brother."

"See you later, Daryl."

When he and the guard leave the room and the door slams shut in our faces, a piece of me leaves with them.

Author's Notes.

— SUMMARY: A few hours after the ending of the previous chapter, Daryl is refusing to reveal any information until it can be proven to him that Harley is alright. Merle brings Harley to the blocks and she is locked in Daryl's cell with him until the Governor arrives to interrogate them.

Daryl reveals the group's location when he puts a gun to Harley's head. She gets emotional and cusses the Governor out, prompting him to force her to kiss him on the mouth as an apology.

Should I start this off by saying I'm sorry?! 😭 I'm sorry!

This was messed up. I felt very uncomfortable writing this, but I needed a traumatic event to happen to Harley while they were in Woodbury. It's part of my plan for her and Daryl's arcs this season. I hate when media throws sexual assault around as a key point in a female character's story but I just had a problem with the Governor physically torturing Harley. I feel like this is more realistic.

And don't worry about Merle. He wouldn't have let this happen if he wasn't also being threatened.

Let me know what you thought! See you next time! :)

@poetoflawed

[skyddish]

aftg fic but it's going sooo slowly I'm just posting parts that made me giggle and eventually I'll write the full thing: Ft. Nicky the Menace

“You guys have been in there a while and we parked five minutes ago…” Nicky peered into the truck, cupping his eyes against the glass to see inside. “Should Dan be worried?” Matt said, “Don’t say that.” But Aaron was already pulling the car’s handle to wham Nicky with the door.

Aaron collapsed into a bean bag and sent a few message updates to Kaitlyn. Mid sentence, Aaron felt a prying gaze appear over his shoulder and he snapped his head to look at Nicky, whose face was inches away. He didn’t even look ashamed. “...Can I help you?” Aaron asked. “That doesn’t look like pizza.” Nicky deadpanned.

Responding from the window, Andrew said, “My dear child, I cannot bend this Gascon pride of mine to accept such a kindness.” The reference made Aaron grimace and he said dryly, “Cyrano was deeply in love with his cousin… FYI.” He trailed off, pretending to be too invested in his phone to see the look Andrew gave him.

“Dude. If you aren't gonna try, let someone else play.” Kevin said, “Damn.” Aaron flipped him off. “It's not his fault he’s an awful driver." Nicky defended him. "Aaron tried his best.” Aaron gave him the finger too. His phone lit up again but it wasn’t a notification from Nicky this time. Aaron tossed his controller aside and unlocked his phone. Fuck you Kevin, play by yourself.  “So you can't text me back?” Nicky protested, scooping up the abandoned controller. “And I heard the clown ringtone, by the way— Rude. But when that nice flowery ringtone texts you, you drop everything? Typical.” He sneered. “You guys are right next to each other.” Kevin squinted. "Why are you texting him?" Nicky's smile fumbled and he laughed nervously, glancing in Andrew’s direction. “We were talking about you Kevin.” He said. “Yeah~ I watched the way you dabbed your pizza with that napkin. Only pussies are scared of greasing up their organs like a car.” His tone said Right, Aaron? but his eyes said Help Me.

Nicky's gasp broke the atmosphere. He was staring at his phone with wide eyes, his trembling hand covered his mouth, and Aaron steeled himself for bad news. Nicky was usually the first to warn them of public backlash, since he was the monster with the most online engagement. Aaron just hoped it wasn’t something that could get any of them murdered. Nicky lowered his hand and read from his phone screen, looking up at each of them. He said, “I just found out Alaska has the second highest rate of incest in the U.S.” Nobody said anything for a moment and Aaron stared at him. After a beat, he asked, “You’re fucking kidding, right?” Nicky's reaction would've been less severe if a teammate died. He just shook his head in disbelief and as if to prove it, tilted the phone toward them. The search bar read, ‘Alaska have incest?’ and the answer was yes.  “The first on the list was Florida.” Nicky said, completely serious. “Maybe you should move there.” Andrew suggested. “Obviously they need more diversity.”

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Itadori Yuji x Reader

⚠️ Spoilers for chapter 257 and also a warning for cannibalism

Itadori Yuji

You enjoy fawning over babies, are a dog person or you have the attention span of a goldfish

First Date:

You were ecstatic. You never would have dreamed that your crush would agree to go out with you. Yuji insisted that the two of you meet up outside the theatre. Something about how he wanted to show you this romance movie? "I don't care as long as I'm with you itadori." You then heard what sounded like someone trying to vomit? "What was that?" Before Yuji could respond he slapped himself. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Just swatting an annoying mosquito. Anyway I'm gonna go grab some popcorn now..." You wondered why Itadori was acting so nervous. "Maybe he's just as excited about this date as I am?" You then made sure your mascara was on fleek and then made your way to the screening. "Great, you made it! It's just about to start!" You sat down while the previews began playing.

You couldn't help but notice how your date was shovelling fists full of popcorn down his throat, almost as if he was eating for two people. "Hungry?" you whispered. You then heard a voice saying "No more brat, this tastes awful!" It was probably just the movie since you two were the only ones in the room. Yuji then gave you a bashful look as he rubbed the back of his head. "I guess I've always had a larger appetite. My grandpa once mentioned something about my uncle eating his twin in the womb?" You were too stunned to speak.

The title of the movie showed up on screen. 'HUMAN EARTHWORM 4'. You cringed. How was this a romance movie? You were starting to fall asleep out of boredom when you heard a voice that was far too deep to belong to Itadori. "Pathetic. This is your attempt at courting a woman? Back in the Heian era I would-" There was a loud clap that was enough to fully wake you up. "What happened Itadori?"

Yuji was now sweating bullets. "Oh, You fell asleep? Is the movie not to your liking? We can always do something else if you want." Why did your date have to be so sweet? "No, it's fine. I suppose I'm just tired." The movie soon ended and the two of you decided to get something to eat. You then stopped at the local KFC. Yuji sat down while you went to order. You then returned to see him with a strange look on his face. "What's the matter?"

"I think I just saw my teacher? No wait, maybe it wasn't him? But then again who else has white hair in Tokyo? Anyway, I think this girl in blue robes dumped him or something? He just started crying. Look, he's still there!" You cast your gaze down the street. Itadori was right. There was a man sobbing on the ground while slamming his fist into the concrete. "SUGURU, WWWWHHHHHYYYYYYYY?????? PLEASE I NEED YOU!!"

You turned away. How embarrassing. You were just glad that he wasn't your date. "Hey, the foods getting cold. Let's eat!" The two of you then began to feed each other chicken tenders. You were so lovestruck that you failed to notice the burnt piece you had picked up. If anything it resembled a claw made out of hot dogs more than fried chicken. You put it to Yuji's lips and watched him swallow it whole.

Somethings wrong. Why was your date convulsing all of a sudden? "I swear if they gave you food poison!" You then noticed black markings appear on Itadori's skin. "What the hell-" You were then cut off before you could finish speaking. Literally. Next thing you knew, you were being cut apart into tiny meat cubes. Your date then took a slice of human meat, savoring the flavour. He then started tasting the blood on his fingers. "I guess that's why they call it finger licking good!"

[outcaststars]

I've been streaming on twitch for over 4 years. I've made a great community and a wonderful group of friends but I've also had to deal with a lot of aweful people. Recently I've been feeling particularly upset about it all so I'm going to air all my grievances here. TW this mentions bullying, grooming, self harm and abuse. If anyone mentioned in this post trys to comment im just gonna delete it, i also dont care if your fav streamers is here, this is my authentic experience. Also dont go attacking anyone i mention here, the whole point of this is to be better then them.

Rat_emoji

The first streamer I ever had an issue with was Rat_emoji. It all started when I tuned into one of their DbD streams only to find him streaming another, younger, streamers live content.

He had just died to this kid playing Myers, he had TTV in his name and Rat was so mad about what had happened he streamed this kids twitch live to his viewers, all the while making fun of his appearance and stream quality.

A day later I would go back and screen record this whole interaction so I can share that if you want to see it. It felt so disgusting to watch this happen live, he has 100 viewers in chat and they were all being nasty. The only person who told him to stop was drag streamer Suttonfister (i think, 90% sure) who was in the same game and discord call at he time. the whole scene was aweful to witness, it felt like such an abuse of power. Rat didnt directly say anything mean but they made a lot of mean girl comments and didnt moderate anything cruel their chat said, it was obviously intentional.

After this I blocked Rat, it would have been easy to avoid him if he didn't found the stream team "Aussie pride", he got a lot of attention for that and a lot of praise and all of it made me sick. Funnily enough I heard that Aussie Pride was an aweful team to be in. The creators didn't care about the smaller members, planned no events and then disbanded the team with the release of Hogwarts legacy because they didn't want to take a stance on JK Rowling. Honestly it seems like the whole thing was a vanity project. That's why I don't like Rat_emoji.

Dcypherpup

DCpup was the first streamer I tried to network with. He hired me to make some art for him. He wanted me to work on merch for his channel, I declined, saying that I wasnt comfortable with the idea of someone else selling my art. I counter offered to just make him a profile icon, this way we could see how my style suited him and i could work out how to tackle the idea of eventually doing merch.

When the icon was done I sent him the high res file, he asked for my signature (my artist tag, a very small "outcaststars" in the corner) to be removed. When I asked why, he told me he needed it gone in order to upload it as merch.

Naturally I was upset. I explained that we had already made a deal not to do merch yet and I also explained that I was uncomfortable with the idea of removing my tag. I went on to explain why visibility was so important for artists. At the time I was a much smaller content creator and DCpup platform was much bigger.

He apologized and said he would give me a cut of the sales. I said don't bother and reluctantly let him do what he wanted. At the time I was too scared to make enemies so I fell into people pleasing.

I took more work from DCpup because I needed the money and I hoped it would be good for my channel growth. He would upload my work to his store and wouldn't credit me. I was frustrated.

The tipping point was after the final comm I took from him. An animated ending screen. During this process DCpup would message me everyday asking for updates which was annoying. When I delivered the final product he once again asked for my tiny, half transparent signature to be removed. I was so upset and defeated, I told myself I'd fight it but I didn't. I removed my sign from every layer, reanimated the whole thing and vowed not to take work from him.

After the piece was done he wanted to commission me again. I left him on read, then I found out what he was saying about me to other people. A good friend of mine showed me a message he had sent in his stream, telling him not to bother commission me, because I would be too busy doing work for him. I was furious.

Another week later I got raided by someone and told the new viewers to check out my work, it broke my heart when someone who looked at my insta, told me he had no idea I made all of DCpups stuff. Why would he? Dcypherpup went to ridiculous lengths to hide my credit. He was telling people not to contact me and not tagging any comm work with my name. One day he came into my live stream and I was so mad I banned him on the spot .

I wish I had done more to be assertive, live and learn. Funnily enough I found out he posted a big rant, telling people off for supporting JK Rowling when Hogwarts legacy released. Only to be called out for buying it and playing it on his steam, which he had forgotten to make private. He deleted the tweet. What a cunt.

Undertheredmoon and Greenypika

Redmoon is furry streamer that I use to really like. They were funny, had great energy and I would even go as far to say that they were a friend.

All this came to a grinding hault the day he invited furry artist and accused child groomer Daveoverlord to join us on Monster hunter rise live on stream.

Dave wasn't in voice chat and I wasn't reading Redmoons twitch chat at the time, so although I was aware of who Dave was, I didn't realize it was them. When someone messaged me about it a few days later I was mortified, I assumed Redmoon didn't know and I messaged them immediately.

I asked Red if he knew who Dave was and what he had done and the kind of artists he was friends with (cub artists). Redmoon ghosted me, left me on read for a week. I messaged again asking why he wasn't talking to me. He said he was too stressed to deal with this "drama" and didn't care to get involved. He mentioned that if Dave was guilty cops probably would have gotten involved and said he just wanted to focus on his own work.

When I asked Redmoon where he stood on cub porn, he stopped replying. We haven't spoken since.

The same person who told me about Dave joining stream also pointed out that Greenypika was inviting Dave onto his stream. They dm'd greeny and asked them if they knew and greeny said he had no idea and that he'd look into it. Greeny hadn't responded for a few months so I dm'd him with the same message and got the same copy paste reply. TLDR greeny knew and was just lying about it so I blocked him too.

Daveoverlord

Dudes a fucking groomer and now he streams. Blocked.

Cidermarten

Cider and I got into an argument once, the topic of which is no one's business.

His bf weyland got mad at me for it and vague tweeted about it so I decided to start a group chat with them to sort it out. And we did.

I apologised for what I did and cider took some time away from interacting with me. Everyone in this situation wanted what was best. And weyland is now one of my best friends.

Cider and I aren't as close as we could be but that's my fault. They're honestly a wonderful person and I appreciate their friendship. There inclusion in this list is to prove a point later but they're also the only person here who I think deserves success.

Stripeydragon and Break trail.

This one is complicated because it involves someone who ment a lot to me.

Back when the exclusive stream team Break Trail formed, my good friend Marsh joined the team. Being an artist he did a lot of the teams promo art of all it's members. Marsh had a lot of anxieties about the team because he was one of its smallest members and often told me he felt underappreciated or out of place. This feeling for worse when artist/streamer and fellow team member Stripeydragon decided he was going to do a redraw of all of marsh's promo work.

I didn't see Marsh much at the time but when this began he spent the better part of a week in my mod chat expressing how upset he was about it. It didn't help he was already anxious but he felt stripydragon was replacing him and even mentioned a time when he tried to give feedback on stripys work only for him to disregard it. Marsh was really fucking upset.

After stripeydragon posted the work my moderator, Ibn, who had been listening and consoling marsh for a week, decided to comment on the art publically. He said he didn't think stripyes version of the art was better and criticized him of slimming down the fater characters.

I wanna pause this to say I don't condone what Ibn did. He ment well but it wasn't his fight and he shouldn't have commented a critique on something no one asked him to judge. Don't do this. Anyway...

Stripeydragon fucking hated this. Not only did he respond to every tweet, he went into the break trail discord and rallied everyone to defend him and attack Ibn, a lot of break trail members also rushed to the comments to defend stripey and attack ibn. He also posted ibns comment in his own discord to encourage others to dog pile on. This shit got out of hand super fucking fast. Ibn was crying and marsh was pissed. It was betray of trust on Ibns part, but the way stripey responded was downright scary.

Shit was at its peak by the time I woke up (Australian timezone) and I immediately went into damage control. I gave Ibn a huge lecture, I was mad af and told him to apologize. I dm'd breaktrails stream team manager Mari, and tried my best to defuse the situation so that both parties could stop. Everyone deleted their tweets. Ibn apologised a dozen times and Marsh told everyone that ibn was just an asshole.

So the story everyone believes now is that marsh actually loves stripydragons work and Ibn is just a weird jerk. There where no consequences for stripydragons weaponizing a stream team and their fan base against someone on twitter. They're still a member of break trail but the team has been dead for a long time. I understand that Ibn was in the wrong and marsh should have just talked about his issues with his team. But this is another case of someone with a big platform and bigger ego not hesitating to use that to attack others.

Starkymorph

this one is fucked up.

Starky mods for a bunch of break trail members, so he had an inside look into the whole stripeydragon thing. Keep that in mind.

About a year after the stripey incident, I woke up to a message from starky. I had recently finished a commission for starky but apart from that we didn't know each other well.

He claimed that ibn had harassed him on stream by bringing up controversial topics and that because he was my mod he wasn't going to support me any more. I was pretty angry, Ibn was causing trouble again. I dm'd ibn and told him I didn't want to hear what he had to say and instead I just wanted the timestamp on Starkeys VOD so I could see what he did myself.

I watched the VOD and what I saw didn't line up with anything starky had said. He made the whole thing up.

What really happened was, starky decided to bring up "cancel culture" and went on a rant about how it was inherently bad and that anyone who participates in it only does it for "self-aggrandizing reasons". A lot of the shit he said was very thinly veiled right wing bullshit dog whistles.

Ibn asked him to elaborate and said something to the likes of "what about people who cancel pedos and rapists" and starky banned ibn and ended the convo.

Ibn didn't start the controversial topic and he didn't harass anyone. But starky was mad and wanted to attack him, he knew Ibn had a history of starting shit so he came to me with a bullshit story thinking I'd believe him and Ibn would lose his friends. And it almost worked.

I tried to talk some sense into starky, I pointed out that his original message was dishonest. Starky doubled down and made up more lies. He continued to claim that things happened during the stream that aren't in the VOD. He even bought up weylandshere and claimed he was harassing him too, out of nowhere! which if you watch the VOD is also completely made up. He said some ablist shit about "high functioning autism" aswell, its all really incoherent. Non of this is true and I downloaded the VOD so he couldn't hide the evidence.

Starky tried to use my argument with cider and Ibns argument with stripy as evidence that we were bad people. I found this really sinister, because my initial reaction to Starkys story, was that i believed him, pretty much everyone reacted this way. It upsets me that i was almost convinced to distance myself from my best friend because of a lie.

A ton of people didn't watch the VOD and took Starkeys word. Starky blocked me and started asking all his followers and mutuals to do the same. A whole bunch of people sub tweeted about ibn being an abuser and me being an enabler. It was fucking aweful. It went on for days.

This only stopped when Kyziethewolf stepped in and defended me. Even tho starky was one of his best friends, he had watched the VOD and told everyone he was lying. Starky doesn't talk to kyzie now and it really broke his heart.

A lot of people still believe starky and I lost a bunch of mutual streamers support because of this. It's one of the worst attacks I've suffered on twitter/twitch to date.

I found out a few months later he's added "outcast is racist" to the narrative he tells people and there's nothing I can do about that

This also basically ended my friendship with Marsh. I've known marsh for 7 years and hes a friend of Starkeys too. During this whole ordeal he never spoke up, it was only kyzie. I was really upset about this because i feel that Marsh could have made a significant change to how this played out if he had of just stepped in.

When he dm'd me a few weeks after asking if I'm make some free art for his project I told him no. I told him I was hurt. He said he just didn't want to get involved in drama. i think its really harmful to reduce harassment to just "drama". We've stopped talking.

Jayedskier

I met jayed though my friend weyland. I needed a 3D artists and he needed work.

Jayed had recently lost a lot of friends because during COVID he tweeted that people not social distancing at a furcon where putting disabled, high risk, people's lives in danger. Totally righteous imo.

He however also tweeted that anyone who doesn't where a mask should kill themselves and deservingly got a lot of hate and backlash. Lost a lot of friends. Since then he was pretty unwilling to comment on any political shit. Publically that is.

The first fight I got into with jayed was when Ibn reposted a Tumblr thread about the YouTuber keffals, and some of the problematic things she'd done. Jayed loves keffals so he dm'd Ibn about it and started a huge fight defending his favourite YouTuber. I stepped in to try and resolve the fight but no one was really happy.

This argument made jayed realise that he didn't have the same values as the friend group he was in. He liked keffals, he thought it was ok to say the R slur and he felt people should be allowed to support JK Rowling.

He left my discord and I contacted him trying to smooth things over. We talked for a long time and I settled on agree to dissagree the hopes to change his mind on some of these issues.

That didn't happen. Jayed kept starting fights about woke shit, even though he's a self proclaimed "leftist" and it slowly drove a wedge between us. He stopped talking to everyone in our friend group, unfollowed us all on socials.

Artists/streamer and friend Ixu had drawn a big group shot of all of us together. Weyland (who is in this friend group) was pretty angry about the whole ordeal so he asked Ixu for a version without jayed edited out. When he posted this jayed got super pissed about it.

Jayed tweeted about how unwelcoming my community was. Screen caped some DM's and changed the context. I was so angry, I had spent months continuing to offer my friend ship and trying to change his mind. One of the last fights we got into he said he was mad that "people" expected him to show support for Palestine and thats kind of the end of it.

This one hurt because it felt like a betrayal. Jayed you can get fucked dude.

Socksthewolf

This one is super recent and is basically why I decided to write this.

I can't remember how I met socks. They work in the games industry and they have a LOT of money/connections. He gives away a lot of stuff, Donates to people a lot. He very affectionate and Everyone loves him. I even accepted a bunch of charity/gifts from him and in return drew a bunch of gift art.

Socks success made a few mutuals of mine uncomfortable. He had a lot of money to put into stream so his channel grew insanely fast. I'm also told he made comments to some mutuals, comparing channel growth that made them feel bad. He ran multiple giveaways and got partner almost a year after starting stream.

There was some drama between socks and one of his mods. I tried my hardest not to get involved. Socks employs a lot of parasocial strategies in order to retain an audience so he flirts a lot and also has a persona of "I'm you dad" on stream. Idk if this counts as love bombing, but it feels similar.

I heard that one of his mods developed a crush on him and when rejected, he drank himself into the hospital. He almost died.

I spoke with this ex mod about it. He doesn't blame socks for what happened even tho he feels the rejection was harsh. I still feel that socks takes advantage of people with his gifts and parasocial friendship. This is a result of that going unchecked.

One of our mutuals found out about this and was really upset. They tweeted about it and tried to hold socks accountable. Nothing came of it.

I grew distant from socks when he started hanging out with Redmoon a lot. Because I felt close to them at the time I messaged him a about Redmoon and what happened between us. He never replied.

This story takes a dark turn when jayedskier, friend of socks, decided to make that tweet mentioned in his section. Socks also went in on someone jayed had mentioned.

This is about my good friend Weyland. Weyland had had someone very close to them pass away recently. Socks complied some tweets and chat screen caps, and made up a story of weyland threatening to kill themselves.

Some of the messages were about weylands dead friend. Socks knowingly changed the context and lied to make weyland look bad.

I honestly think this is the worst thing on this post. To use the death of someone and the personal anguish of someone and ammo for you bullshit story about them is fucking horrifying.

I replied to socks tweet about weyland, I told him what he was doing was wrong. He told me that he feels bad I'm surrounded by toxic people and that he hopes they get better.

After seeing the way socks treats his audience and the way he lied about another streamer, I genuinely believe hes some kind of abuser. Idk the vibe is REALLY off with this one. This feels worse then bullying, there's an ego about it. I've blocked socks on everything. Frankly they scare me.

Final notes

Anyway that's been my aweful experience with aweful twitch streamers. The whole thing has left me bitter and sad and I no longer want to interact with anyone. idk where to go from here.

Twitch TOS doesn't care what people say or do on other platforms. And with other streamers/mutuals so unwilling to get involved or show support I just feel alone.

I do feel compelled to speak up when I see or experience something I think isn't right. I think a lot of neurodivegant people, like myself, feel that way. But I think it's been terrible for my career. I hate the feeling that I'd be so much more successful if I'd shut my mouth and looked away. Maybe even be partner by now. I know a lot of this comes across as just "furry drama" but i think its reductive to label it as that. Content creators who engage in these kind of harmful behaviors need to be held accountable if we want to see any positive change. And im not saying that means "CANCEL" them. some (not all) of these content creators can still learn and grow and be better. Negative attitudes and dismissive statements of "its just drama" create a space for bullies to thrive

Finally, please PLEASE do NOT under any circumstances harass anyone involved in this post. This is not an attempt to rally the masses to lynch some people, im just telling my story so that next time you see someone come forward with claims about a content creator you like you'll see the situation differently.

If you made it this far, wow. Thank you. Dunno if I'll post the vids/screencap evidence. I don't know if I care enough.

[hellscapechrysanthemum]

Actually I'm gonna give another crummy rant about how Saint Germain was treated in Netflixvania (sorry for how this is gonna sound and more art is coming soon)

SPOILERS FOR CASTLEVANIA SEASON 3 AND 4

The way Saint Germain was portrayed in Netflixvania felt so petty and meanspirited.

In Castlevania Curse of Darkness, Saint Germain is a well-mannered, charming, and skilled gentleman time traveler who goes out of his way to prevent Hector from unknowingly going down a destructive path that would not only result in his death, but the resurrection of Count Dracula. He even combats Hector in an awesome boss battle! (Him and Aeon having clock tower stages for their arenas is part of their time traveler swagger I suppose). Not to mention him running circles around Zead!

In Netflixvania, he's portrayed as a travelling alchemist and magician, which at first isn't necessarily a bad thing. Season 3 had you watching and thinking "okay well this is just Saint Germain at the beginning, once he reunites with his loved one who is totally Aeon and they go into the Infinite Corridor then he'll become the cool time traveler we know!"

But instead his loved one turns out to be some worthless original character (the name "Adventure Lady" is so offensive in lacking creativity, I'm calling the poor lady "Ariadne"), he gets turned into an antagonist, and he doesn't even get a good portrayal as a villain! He gets a whole humiliating scene with Death gloating about what an idiot he is for trusting him as well as getting talked down by Greta!

The whole portrayal of him feels so petty, awful, and meanspirited, and it feels like as a character and villain Saint Germain was put through a whole procession of being embarrassed, mistreated, and humiliated in his on screen adaptation. Given how Warren Ellis treated Theo James through writing Hector's storyline in Netflixvania (all of which was the result of some petty dislike for the voice actor) , it wouldn't surprise me if there was some similar motivation with portraying Saint Germain.

It's even more saddening when you remember just like with Hector and Isaac, this is the first time since 2005 Saint Germain has had an actual appearance in Castlevania.

Overall it's just genuinely saddening to watch, especially given Saint Germain is arguably one of my all time favorite Castlevania characters and to see him get treated so badly in his portrayal just hurts.

(Also gotta love the audacity they had in showing us Saint Germain in his classic outfit as an Easter Egg. Thanks Warren /s)

[yiiiikesmish]

it's been like 2 hours and episode 3 dropped so please (if you want to) enjoy more of my ramblings. all reactions are written as i watch and ngl it'll probs be a lot about how much i love river and that id fuck him in less than a heartbeat.

genuinely what the fuck is up with the french??? WHAT IS THIS CONSPIRACY WHAT IS GOING ON

probably didn't need to hit you but you're just so pretty when you're beaten up baby.

WHAT BOMB WHAT DID YOU DO DAVID.

ok no need to be a bitch david. catherine is a treasure and she's just trying to help you.

ok catherine is better than me bc this man has said i need to speak to first desk like 10 times and i'm just shouting at my screen going yeah we fucking know that asshole

you're being hurtful about my appearance. HES JUST A BABY (a very stinky unshowered old baby but still i protect)

FACTS DAVID IS A PIECE OF SHIT SING IT JACKSON

roddy is a disaster i love him. oh wait who's his girlfriend tho i wanna know

see i knew claude had some brains. work out what stupid shit people have been doing.

god rivers eyes are so blue 😍😍

i'm honestly incredibly surprised that this dumbass hasn't attempted to escape through like the roof or smth stupid like that

OFC HE WAS HER SON LMAO. literally only river could be like oh it's cool he's dead and the guy being dead is like probably not the best thing that could happen

pop off catherine. if i didn't know better i'd totally believe that she'd never seen david

ok what is up with hoodie boy. and that got dark really fast that knife popped out of nowhere. hoodie boy has a sad tortured backstory (does he have a name???)

what weird biological french boy army is this frank guy cooking up???

RUN YOU STUPID FUCK WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE GOING LOL THATS A BIG DOG

oh my poor baby he was so close to making a cool exit. you almost did it and that's what counts. CAN YOU RUN PLEASE the lack of self preservation skills is honestly something to be admired

david made his escape. WERE FUCKED YALL

WHAT DID YOU DO DAVID WHAT HAPPENED IN FRANCE

OH SHIT THE OTHER OLD MAN IS THAT SAM BLOKE

marcus babes idk what you're doing but TURN AROUND STOP DOING WHAT YOURE DOING

marcus you are an awful negotiator what was that i think i cried out of embarrassment

GO SHIRELY IDK WHAT ABT TO HAPPEN BUT YOURE GONNA SLAY BABES

LEAVE HIM GO SAVE CHAPMAN. oh you tried baby you got blood so good enough.

lmao ofc jackson just keep walking. OOP take that back he ran the french bred army boy over (and he already disappeared???? what fucking training camp did this frank put his sons through????)

anyways that's all for this week honestly surprised and saddened that i didn't thirst over river more but anyways... if u got this far thank you for skimming my thoughts. i'll be back next week for episode 4!

[numbuhinfinitys]

Hey. I'm not great with mental health help or anything, but I can't help feeling awful seeing a friend/past friend, or anyone honestly, having to struggle with things like what you are(of course that doesn't mean you should hide it incase you were thinking that).

Feel like you need to be perfect for everyone? I know you likely can't help that, but please remind yourself that you're gonna have flaws. Of course, nobody *likes* flaws, but we're human, everyone has them, and everyone should try to accept it or tolerate it.

If you're disappointed in yourself about missing out on stuff with your friends, don't be. If you're going through something, you're going through something, and it's perfectly valid to take as much time as you need off things to heal.

Bottling up emotions/SH, though, isn't a good way to deal with things. If anything, it could cause more issues later on. Parents won't listen? Confide in friends, vent/su!c!de hotlines(as one commenter suggested), and hell, my arms and ears are open, even if we haven't interacted.

I'm extremely sorry if I misinterpreted anything, my wording comes off as insensitive, or my advice is kinda uncalled for. It's up to you whether or not you do any of this, and I'll respect your decision regardless. You're truly an amazing individual who doesn't deserve what's happening to you, and I hope you recognize that if you didn't already.

Please take care of yourself in every way you can. I, and many more, love you(platonically). Take your time to heal from anything that's troubling you, there's no deadline.

Sending my virtual platonic love and support,

-🍎(Added because I may start appearing more, if that's alright with you.)

Thank for you're kind words and advice.

I'm actually feeling a lot better than yesterday, thanks to my moots and friends. They made my day a lot better with their kind words and their comforting presence.

We watched a bit of Codename: Kids Next Door together and laughed at some funny screen caps we paused it on.

But I actually want to thank everyone who helped me through this.

Once again, thank you for your help.

[I genuinely don't know any vent/su1c1de hotlines, may you suggest some in the comments for me, for if it happens again?]

[servenas-inner-fangirl]

Random thoughts while watching Black Sails 2x4

the Max/Anne/Jack throuple seemed a little tense afterwards (particularily Max and Jack) :(

Charles Vane doesn't look as happy as I expected about his new posession. I can't tell if it's bc he has second thoughts about the whole thing or if he's worried her father won't pay

speaking of which, she decidedly did not answer the question when she said "My father will pay." So I have some doubt about that.

his little smile when she told him she was glad Ned Low is dead - he really has a soft spot for strong women, doesn't he?

(also everybody will get real tired of this real soon, but he really does look good in every single scene he's in?? one of the few characters who actually looks better on screen than in my head. how.)

Silver as Flint's personal confidant <3 when did that even happen

Silver: "it must be awful being you" oUCH

Honestly Vane probably doesn't care too much about the fort, he wants to get back on a ship anyway. If only they could manage that without beating each other's heads in...

Flint's FACE when Thomas says he wants to pardon all the pirates

Flint and Vane (or rather Eleanor) out there inventing psychological warfare

Some dude: "I don't see the difference." Eleanor: "I think I can live with that." <3

Anne is really being like "I need to bring my best friend as emotional support if you want to keep fucking me"

I still don't know how I feel about Max. Which I guess is the correct way to feel? Lots of characters are unsure about that as well. But she sure is an interesting character, and way more powerful than it first appears

that moment when Anne takes off her hat and you can see how pretty she really is

flint out there having second thoughts about taking the fort - as he SHOULD

damn Thomas has more of a spine than I thought

and Flint standing up for him ;_; and in what a way, holy shit

"did you just ask my father... to leave his own house?" hahaha

me going from a vague interest to a flint/hamilton shipper in under 3 minutes

the pastor being "I don't sleep anymore"... okay, drama queen

oh damn, that hostage sideplot does not seem so unimportant anymore... Vane, what did you do

ugh I don't like Eleanor's father, and I don't trust him one bit

only vaguely related: if I have to see that Krombacher Spezi advertisement one more time I'm gonna kill somebody

Mr . Scott being so wise here ;_;

unfortunately Flint isn't listening

[blogofloathing]

A loud, cheesy anthem plays as an awful stylilized OCWE appears on a black and white TV screen

"Good belated myorning folks, I am your esteemed host! Gillian Barlows Jr! And you are watching the Ocean City Watcher Éire! Hyere to bring you the latest scyoop on the people of our great city! who are they? Why are they? When are they? How do they peel their y'apples? Let's find out nyow!"

A new fangled transition effect plays as Gillian gives an overly exaggerated shocked expression.

Approaching our first interviewee, Gygan Clarks of the Ocean City Watchful Eye, but it seems he isn't particularly excited to see us haha, wonder why.

Our trusty boom man sticks the mic in his face, at which Gygan looks visibly annoyed, sheesh you'd think we killed this guys business or something.

"What do you want Gillian" he spat, frankly I'm offended he would be so rude to a reporter!

My cameraman delivers the question after a discreet go ahead sign waved in his direction

"Look unless you think apples can make coffee taste better I'm not interested," Gygan hisses, and after a short pause mutters "with a pocket knife"

And indeed if the bulge in his pocket isn't due to seeing me, he carries said weapon on him.

Let's move on from this wannabe newsman before he gets violent! You know how those types are.

Grumbling to himself, something about "fuckin' trend hopping fast news pieces of-" haha anyway!

An apple shaped transition plays, and due to formatting issues doesn't properly disappear

•••

Our next guest went up to us herself upon hearing there was a survey, so give it up for.. Simone Chekhov! Of the S.I.T Robotics department—

Somehow interrupting this audio added in post, the girl fires up a seemingly long held rant.

"Well actually it's Robotechtronics there's a very subtle but important difference in the two fields but anyway I made a machine that peels them so precisely the skin dissolves in contact with the air due to being sliced at such a thin micromascopic level that their mololcules are-" a thin homeless girl sticks a thumbs up wildly behind Simone.

The video is suddenly stopped here due to space, a cartoonish image of sad Gillian giving a thumbs down is shown onscreen for a few seconds.

•••

we're sorry to cut this short but our camera ran plumb out of juice trying to record it all haha!

Though this did little to falter her one sided rant, even as we turned our attention away from her

Moving onto the aforementioned hobo (it's good to get a perspective from the less than fortunate.)

"OOO OOO you're gonna ask me a question! Give it here!" She jumps excitedly, the words slamming into our crew much in the same way she physically rammed into my mic man in her overzealousness

The dusty girl, who we made sure didn't touch any of our equipment, had been chittering something inane at Simone when we asked, somehow able to properly talk between each other rather than over.

"I dunno I just chomp em, see?" taking a playful bite out of her sour face, leaving a toothy mark.

... the sounds of crickets chirping has been added

"Agh! Victoria!" She expleted, wiping her face off with her sleeve, "that's gross- you're gross!"

Though Victoria didn't seem too bothered, a sly little grin making its home on her spotted face.

"Hey don't pretend ya didn't like it" she slithered, at which Simone gave her a rather hard smack on the head "and there's more where that came from!" The bespectacled girl tittered haughtily.

A tinny and muffled laugh track plays, as Gillian audibly clicks a tape recorder to start and stop

•••

Moving on from those, shall we say interesting, characters, our boom operator caught wind of some music playing a few blocks down.

And we followed the groovy tunes to their source, coming upon quite the cello fellow!

Who is contentedly playing his instrument, my team having to remind him of the question, "oh I just slice em up with my trusty pocketknife!" Holding it up for a second before going back to ringing out the tunes.

Looks to be the same kinda knife as that.. eh I forgot his name already.

I say someone should definitely toss that guy a quarter, not me though.

Really if he can afford a cello is he actually that poor I mean cmon- ah, I've been instructed by my cameraman to stop here.

A bubble and wave crashing sound effect plays too loudly, with a chintzy fade to black transition

•••

Taking a dip per sé, we find.. someone else to ask.

Attempting to avoid being seen, the oddly slimy fellow is hiding against a wall, but seeing as his clothes aren't the exact shade and texture of bricks, "I, I don't know what an apple is? please leave me alone.." he croaks out in a froggy tone.

"Would you like to try one?" My boom operator chipperly inquires, at which the still unnamed weirdo looks even more terrified of us than before

"N-no I'm good really I.." it trailed off, guess they make hobos different these days, I can't get a read on what this guy might be on the street to beg for.

"Cmon I'll get ya a fresh one" he says again, taking a step closer to it, making the thing jump loudly.

Before running away from my team in a lurch, leaving weird wet slappy footprints in his wake.

Well that was certainly productive, why don't we heed this guys words and move on to another!

A hexagon transition with a splat sound effect, it doesn't even fully segue, cutting halfway through

•••

At the urging of my team, we reluctantly almer over to a goblin for questioning, she seemed to be dancing animatedly.. or maybe boxing with the air?

"Hi! Yes yes Hello! To apples slicing? No no, Gabby is practicing see?" It said, nearly assaulting one of my cameramen, "Gabby is champion of the box!"

a goofy swirl sound effect and then a laugh track

We don't speak creature so I have no idea what any of that meant, I'd say we get out of here before that thing gets aggressive, I've heard the stories of these kinds of monsters being dangerous!

They're lucky they don't have rights or else we'd totally sue them for emotional damages.

a spooky transition effect plays, bats flying across the screen and a very poorly done witches laugh

•••

As we were making our way back to the studio, my mic man caught eye of some kinda hobo living in the alley, I insisted we don't interview something like that but who listens to me around here?

Walking up to her, I'm already less than enthused about her appearance, something in her eyes wasn't like it should be, they seemed to stare directly inside of us unlike anything.

"Hello ma'am how would you say you peel-" my other cameraman began, being cut off by her wheezily trilling poem, "peel? Peeling, skin peeling wallpaper off the wall, apples falling trees cutting"

I.. wow! Okay! That is not at all what any of us were expecting, all our hairs stood violently on end.

Like looking into the den of a wounded predator about to make a strike, protecting its wounds.

She stepped closer to us, gazing through us, it felt as though she saw more than just my skin.

"Apples and oranges" it felt as though she wasn't even talking to us, despite facing our direction.

No one bothered putting a transition effect here, the camera simply cuts right to the next scene

•••

aaaaand one last questioneer today folks! As we were wrapping up and dutifully wiping down and sanitizing our stuff to get all the filth off them, a distracted old guy bumped into us, and sooooo!

"Oh! Eh uh, I mostly just eat cheese" the weirdo said emphatically before forcing us to look at a horrible mass of aged milk madness, before reassuring us that "it's Käse Brezel! The finest in the city! If ya see me come and buy so-" yeah no

Sorry sir I don't even know what language you just spoke there but I can tell it ain't somethin I'm gonna be eating, especially from someone like you

Though my crew seems oddly interested in it, I'll have to show them what real food is like I guess,

gives me an excuse to hang out with those mooks.

anywho, our final stop of the day was a nice little cheese pretzel shop, the finest in the city!

An equally loud and somehow even cheesier little outro theme plays as we fade back onto Gillian

"Well thyank you all for tyuning in this fine after nyoon, we hope we could answer all of your deep byurning questions! As always I am your esteemed host; Gillian Barlows Jr! And you have been watching the Ocean City Watcher Éire, where we catch up the scyoop and throw it to your hyoop! See y'all nyext week with our next Q: how good is the government doing right now? ( A: pyerfect!)"

[kate-les-bridge-stewart]

Ok so I saw this gif:

and I guess I had a stroke or something cus now I wanna make a fanfic where the Dhawan master steals the sad blood robot and befriends it.

For those who dont know this was part of an art exhibit called "cant help myself" where the robot is surrounded by a pool of fake blood. Its programmed to constantly push the blood so it stays within a certain radius of itself. The thing is over time people saw the robot start to fling the blood around and act erratically. As time went on the robot started basically having an existential crisis, flailing its arm around randomly, giving up on trying to keep the pool contained, and just generally being really panicked. The project concluded when the artists came in and shut the robot down after 3 years.

Naturally I feel very strongly about this little robot babygirl and so heres a dumb scuffed crack fic treated seriously

---

The robot began to quietly hum as it slowly powered on now that it was hooked up to a power supply again. Its scoop twisted slightly as it woke from its sleep.

"Oh, good you're awake! Just let me-"

Suddenly the robot began loudly hissing and whirring as it flailed its arm in a panic. The master jumped to his feet realizing he should've seen this coming.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Easy buddy, easy!"

The robot flicked its scoop which accidentally splattered a deep red fluid across the masters chest. He stumbled back a bit before looking down at his now stained vest, his face drooping a bit in disappointment. He snapped his attention back to the robot, he could deal with his clothes later.

"Slow down ok, listen to me," the master spoke gently but firm.

The robot eventually slowed down and turned its scoop in the masters direction, though its arm was reeled back as if it thought the master would attack it at any moment. It was even visibly shaking in fear.

"That's it. Now listen, I know you're scared, you're in a completely new place but I assure you that you're safer here than you were before. Now, just hang tight for a minute while I finish hooking this up. It might tingle a little but it's just going to allow you to talk to me, if you know how that is..."

The master went back to the computer which was suspended from the ceiling. He tapped away on the keyboard, the clicks of the keys echoing off the gray walls and black linoleum floor.

The room was small and empty except for the robot in the center and the hanging computer, all illuminated with a soft warm light that was easy on the eyes. The robot had been messily hooked up to an electrical outlet on the floor next to it, its cables tangled and strewn about.

"There, now I should be able to read your thoughts," the master stood back and folded his arms, facing the robot and occasionally looking at the computer monitor.

The robot was hunched with its scoop facing the master, like a skittish starving dog cowering in the corner of a kennel.

"I'm gonna assume that big mop is like your face? Now I'm curious, where are your visual sensors?" He started walking towards the robot but it reeled back and began to shake again, prompting the master to stop after two steps.

"Ah, right. Probably should wait until you've settled," he grimaced slightly.

"Well I'm gonna leave you be for a while so you can get used to your new home. I'll be back in..." he glanced at his watch, "let's say an hour. I'd say that's a good amount of time."

The master turned on his heel to exit the room but he froze at the sound of a ping from the computer. He turned back and took 2 long strides to the monitor.

On the screen was a black background with green text formatted like a DOS terminal. There was a new message on the screen written in chinese. The system began automatically translating the characters and soon the English message appeared.

05/20/2016 13:34 > Where am I?

The master stared at the monitor in awe for a moment.

"Oh wow! You took to that awfully quick!" He smiled up at the robot who continued staring at him. Somehow despite not having a face the master couldn't shake a feeling that the robot was glaring at him.

"Well first of all, you can call me the Master. I've brought you to my humble abode I call the tardis. I'm sure you'll come to really get along with her, shes a reliable old beauty and she'll love your new company!"

The tardis hummed warmly at the masters comment, causing the robot to look up at the ceiling searching for the source of the sound.

A new message appeared on the screen.

05/20/2016 13:36 > was. That her?

"Yep! She can actually talk you see, she's kind of a robot like you, except much, much bigger and older and-... well you'll get to know her eventually."

05/20/2016 13:36 > you live in a robot?

"Well, I did say kind of for a reason, heh. She's a lot of things," he looked up at the ceiling with a suggestive grin, "and all of them are gorgeous."

The tardis whirred rapidly as if she was giggling.

When the master turned his gaze back to the robot it was staring at him with its scoop tilted slightly, looking confused.

"Oh yeah, you'll have to get used to that, we just can't help but flirt."

The robot leaned forward but paused, lifting its head a pinch before subtly shaking it in resignation.

Somehow the master felt just the tiniest sting from its judgement. Was he getting kink shamed by a robot?

"Uh- anyway! So I dont actually think you have a name, what would you like to be called?" He folded his hands and leaned forward with an expectant smile.

The robot stood still for about 2 minutes, the computer remaining silent.

Finally the robot sunk a little and a new message appeared on the screen.

05/20/2016 13:41 > I... I don't know.

"Well that's not the best name now is it?" He put his hands on his hips as he frowned sarcastically. "I'm joking, dont worry love. Now let me think of some names for you."

He pondered for a bit, rubbing his beard as he glared at the ground and tapped his foot.

"Oh! How about Sigma? It's my favorite greek letter you know, I just think it looks lovely!"

05/20/2016 13:43 > what does it look like?

"Oh, right. You've probably never seen it," he looked up at the ceiling again, "honey, would you be a dear and show our guest what Sigma looks like?"

On the computer screen a url popped up which then opened as an image on the next line.

The image was projected to the robot's mind to which it tilted its head in mild interest.

"See? Doesnt it look so clean and sleek?"

05/20/2016 13:44 > that's called "sigma"?

The master nodded.

05/20/2016 13:44 > it does look nice...

05/20/2016 13:44 > I like it.

The master clapped with a cheeky smile, "fantastic!! So from now on I will call you Sigma! Ugh I'm such a genius with names aren't I?" He practically danced around like a high school theater kid.

The robot simply stared in slight confusion.

The tardis hummed and her voice echoed in Sigma's mind.

"Dont mind them, they do odd things like this all the time."

"Anyhow, I think I'll let you get settled and maybe get to know my lovely tardis a bit. If you need me just pop a message and I'll respond through text if I can. I'll be over in the kitchen fixing myself some matcha."

And with that he left the room.

Despite still being on edge and nervous about this whole new arrangement, Sigma began to feel something different, something unfamiliar.

They felt calm.

There was no more nagging at its sensors demanding that they mop up the fluid. Jo more gawking onlookers and dead stares from soulless art critics. No more blinding light against stark white floors and walls. No more panic, no more stupid dancing for an uninterested crowd.

No more red.

[bloogers-boogers]

Kyle Brofloski/ Eric Cartman (SP FIC) part 3

/A player with lies/

Fatass can actually move? Kyle gets overly pissy for no good reason and Stan needs a damn break

Slight warning ⚠️ the characters name says it all, if you're not comfortable with the ship then this isn't for you, but if you are then hop on in and enjoy the ride ☆

~~~~

It was a beautiful morning, three boys waited patiently for the bus to arrive, it was a Friday, meaning it's time to finally take a break from school after a hell of a week.

Stan was on his phone as he scrolled effortlessly through his social media, liking randomly posts with out putting to much thought on it.

Kyle yawned tirelessly as he was still caught on doing extra work for school the last few days because of his lack of attendance from last month, so yeah, sucks for Kyle.

And dear Kenny found himself watching some porn shamelessly with out earphones on, as he grinned watching big boobs appear on screen.

The absence of their fourth friend wasn't too noticeable, as Cartman had the tendency to do shit in the morning after breakfast making him come either too late or too early depending on the scheme he's doing.

A blonde beaming boy walked their way, placing himself infront of them, a little too cheerful for their liking.

"Morning to you, Butters," Stan commented, more like a question than a greeting.

"Mornin' hasn't Eric arrived?," he asked glancing at his spot.

Neither bother answering as it was obvious he hasn't.

"Geez, he must be really excited today," He commented as he took out his phone and typed in some music, Kyle arched a brow confused.

"Let me guess, he's 'excited' to lay in bed, doing absolutely nothing, eating junk food for two days straight." Kyle sarcastically said, making the other two boys laugh.

Butters tilted his head, bewildered as he eyed him. Making Kyle feel insecure about being stare down like if he didn't know what he was talking about. He knew the fatass, no one should make him feel like he didn't.

It's Cartman, what else could Cartman be possibly excited for during the beginning of the weekend? If it isn't to lay down in bed and do nothing, mostly school related. Even though he doesn't do much of that either during the week, but still, he had an excuse.

"He.. hasn't told you guys? Oh hamburgers," he looked around, "I think I said too much then," he tried dashing off but Kenny stopped him by placing his hand on his chest pushing him backwards.

"What're you talking about, Butters?," Stan asked, now placing his phone in his pocket.

The blonde scratched his neck nervously before spitting out the truth, "you guys may not know this, but there gonna be a roller derby in town tonight, I thought Eric had already told you guys but-"

"What're you talking about, Butters?," Kyle snapped, gripping on to his shoulders shaking him frantically, "what could possibly Cartman do and hide from us?," He blurted out almost daring.

"Yeah, dude, Cartman's an awful liar, normally he'd come running to us if he was excited about something just to tell us all about it," Stan defended Kyle's argument, even though he found his reaction a little overeating.

"That's what I thought!," Butters exclaimed, letting loose from Kyle's grip, "I figured Eric would've told you by now cause he's been in it since sixth grade. "

"Since sixth grade!?," Kyle blurted out in disbelief, "that's bullshit, Butters. Are you fucking with us? Cartman can't take something seriously for that long!."

"Kyle's right," Kenny chimed in, confused and a little skeptical, "Besides, if Eric's been so serious about something that he's soo into, he would've told me by now."

"And 'in' what!?," Kyle remarked.

"Well if you guys actually let me finish speaking I could explain to you guys what's going on!," Butters snapped now tired, making them all go silent.

"Like I was saying, I'm surprised Eric hasn't told you. Because I do believe he takes it seriously, I've been with him during his games before and he looks.. well, seriously about it?," he explained trying to pick the right words to use, looking at the boys who watched him with odd looks, "guys, Eric's been in the South Park roller derby team for three years, and you guys haven't even realized it? I believe even Clyde knows it! Today's a really important game for him, and he's been waiting for it for the past three months."

Kyle felt his world shattered.

Theres no fucking way.

This is bullshit, he's calling bluff right there.

"Fuck you, Butters," He spat bitter, poking him in the chest aggressively, causing the boy to startle, "FUCKYOU, if you're still willing to pull up this type of shit with Cartman! Trying to mess with us this early in the fucking morning!," Butters slapped his finger away from him, glaring.

"Look Kyle, if you don't believe me then that's all on you, jewboy," he barked back mimicking Cartman's nickname on him, making Kyle snarled.

"Okay guys, calm down," Stan placed himself in the middle of the two boys.

If there someone who's capable on getting to Kyle's level was an angry Butters.

"Butters, you don't have like any proof you could show Kyle or something?," Stan inquired, still skeptical himself.

Butters huffed, as he scroll through his phone shoving it harshly to Kyle's face, earning a groaned from the boy.

"If that isn't enough, why don't you scroll through the south park derby page, ask the coach himself or wait? Ask fucking ERIC!," he screeched out, face heated in temper.

"Dude, chill your hawaiian is showing," Kenny tried calming him down, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't like being called a lying snake," He huffed once more, shoving Kenny's hand away.

Kyle scrolled frustrated through the photos Butters had showed them, they were all separated in a folder called 'Eric' pretty much all the folder had were photos and videos where Eric was included in, or taken with. Or stupid selfies the fatass will take in Butters phone.

What he was frustrated about was that seemingly enough, Eric and Butters were in some type of rally, fat boy grinning wide as Butters thumbs up while being taken the picture.

Date: October 28th, two years ago

On another, it was just Eric seemingly stretching his leg out in some booth, having roller skates on, a white helmet and some gym looking clothing as he glared to what it seemed like nothing but in the background they were plenty of people meaning he must've been glaring at someone.

Date: November 15th, one year ago

Then there was another where Cartman stood full picture, revealing his entire outfit; like a uniform with the number 9 plastered in the front, some red shorts too small for his ass and roller skates on, some black ankle and elbow patches, a green helmet in hand with a white stripe as he posed like he was about to run, grinning confidently.

Date: December 1st, one year ago

And another one, he felt himself being hit by an avalanche of rocks each second he look through each photograph.

Cartman looking forward, some other players beside him showing off their backs, it seemed the photo was taken from a far not as far, but far enough to tell he was about to race and Butters was probably just watching from the crowd.

Cartman's t-shirt said 'South Park derby' plastered big in the back part, words adorned around the large 9 with a goofy cow logo.

Date: January 4th, actual year

He shoved the phone back to Butters, as he glared to the ground defeated. The plan was too elaborate for it to be fake, and there were more photos in there than just those he analyzed.

He clenched his fist tight, and gritted his teeth, holding his head high as he saw Butters leave.

"Wow, I guess Cartman is in the roller derby team," Stan finally spoke out after brief seconds of silence.

"Yeah, I suppose so," Kenny then added.

The silence was now unbearable, Kyle kept contemplating what he just learned. Glancing at the bracelet he held around his wrist 'tsk.'

Stan and Kenny awkwardly shared a concerned look to their friend.

"Maybe Cartman was just too embarrassed to admit it to us?," Stan suggested, trying to relieve the tension that was now formed.

"Probably thought we'd ripped on him, which we definitely would had," Kenny agreed, both boys eyeing the redhead who just stood there unresponsive with a nonchalant expression.

"'Embarrassed' but not embarrassed enough to tell Butters?," he finally snapped, turning his fuming glare at them, "Don't you guys feel betrayed?."

"No," Stan admitted nonchalantly," it's really not a big deal dude, it's not like we all don't play a sport ourselves?," he kept on blabbering, "I play football, you play basketball and Kenny plays with pussy."

"Yeah," Kenny nodded.

"You guys don't get it, we've been friends with Cartman for YEARS, dealt with his shit for years and still, he can't even tell us about being on the derby team? It's not like we haven't seen him do more embarrassing shit! Why all of the sudden is he running off discreetly to play some stupid sport!?," by this point he was all spiteful and riled up, "that bastard doesn't treat us like friends! He treats us like- like some lab rats he likes to test with.

I'm tired of his fucking shit!."

Both boys stood listening not daring to say a word, just letting him spit all his anger out, they've learned by now that it's always best to let Kyle vent out all his frustrating opinions before they spoke out their own.

They knew well enough that he wasn't in all finished.

After like a minute they glanced at each other more surprised that he hadn't added anything else than discovering about their fat friend's secret.

"Well, what you want us to do Kyle? It's not like we can do much." Stan commented.

"Y'know what?," Kyle said with a thoughtful face as he tapped his feet contemplating some type of plan, "maybe we should teach Cartman a lesson about 'friendship' and where it leads people when you overtake advantage of it."

Both boys stared at the red head worrisome not knowing the type of shit they had gotten in to.

"Like what?," Stan follow along, still uncertain about it.

"We're gonna go to that rally and make him fucking lose that so precious game he's been craving for so long."

Bewildered the boys looked at Kyle, speechless.

'My god'

"Kyle, I don't think that's a good idea," Stan tried to reason with him.

"Dude, Cartman does this type of shit with us all the time! This is no different," he blurted out, placing his hands on his hips, "Besides, we have reasons!."

"We do?," Kenny added confused.

"Yes. We do," He said sternly, "he makes us deal with his crap all the time, and we just let him step on us everytime he wants? Cartman little derby game is our payback from all the shit he's made us go through as children! Technically, we're not doing anything wrong," he tried justifying his actions as he walked in circles.

"Dude, you sound like Cartman," Stan blurted out baffled.

"¡IDONOTSOUNDLIKECARTMAN,GODDAMMIT!," he screeched out loud causing them to wince.

Kyle has never felt more betrayed than what he's feeling right now, he doesn't know why this has got him so badly. But it became personal.

He really thought he was already figuring out Cartman and the douche bag, again, makes him reconsider everything!

It's like he's doing it on purpose, he sighed scribbling in his notebook, thinking of a plan to sabotage Cartman's game tonight.

Garrison kept blabbering about his upcoming wedding for like the 100th time of that week, they all already wished he got married and get that shit over with.

He looked to his side, glancing at Cartman who was making paper planes alongside Kenny, throwing it to their sides all dramatic and random flying across the room, among the students. Innocently batting their eyes as Garrison scold them.

Well, it didn't seemed Kenny was too affected by being lied by his BEST FRIEND, was he really the only one who cared to complained? He looked at Stan that was flipping through his textbook not caring for the world.

Cartman seemingly looked in a good mood which just added to his wrath.

He huffed as he rested his chin on his hand.

°°°°

"Dude, are you sure about this?," Stan asked as he zipped his jacket covering the vegetal oil they had planned on sneaking in, "what if Cartman actually gets injured?."

"Do you really care if he does?," Kyle asked skeptical, glancing at a couple of people who walked in the stadium.

"Good point," he added as he grabbed his phone and dialed Kenny, "Dude, did you bring it?."

"I'm on my way dudes, I couldn't find the cheapest brand I could afford but I found some cheap brand on wish," he said frantically as he was running while talking on the phone.

"Whatever dude, just don't die on us," Stan meaningless said before hanging up, "I can't believe we're actually doing this."

"This is for the best, Stan. Think about all the things Cartman has done to us, think about the time he's ripped on you, call you names, taunting you because you have a girlfriend and show you not even an ounce of respect," the redhead kept reassuring to his friend.

Stan frowned as he contemplated his words, now nodding assertively, "yeah, you're right. Fuck that fatass! He's never treated me with respect no matter how many times I followed through his stupid shit and called him a friend," He blurted out, a he held his fist high on to his chest, more confident.

"Atta, Stan," Kyle beamed patting his friend in the back, now turning to look at a panting Kenny.

"I-Im herE.." he continued panting as he took out some marbles out of his jacket to show them.

"Okay, cover those, we don't want to get caught," Kyle shove the marbles back inside his jacket.

They went inside, buying a ticket and glancing at the huge crowd. They didn't know roller derby was that a huge deal for people, the place was packed.

They spotted Butters in one the seats there, headed twoards the boy as they sat next to him.

Butters turned their way, "Oh, geez, you guys actually made it? Does that mean Eric already told you about the derby?," he asked casually, as he sipped from his soda.

Kyle smiled forcefully as he nodded, "yup," he lied.

"Cool," Butters beamed as he waved at some random player there, knowingly who that was.

"So when does the game start?," Kenny asked from the forth seat at the end of Stan.

"You mean the jam?," Butters corrected unfazed, chugging on some chicken nuggets, "the first pass still hasn't initiated. They're still waiting for the seats to be full, and it normally just starts at eight it's still six thirty."

They look at each other not knowing well about how that sport worked, they didn't looked deep in to it.

"Okay, so when does second round start?," Stan added, earning a scoffed from the blonde.

"Didn't Eric bother to explain you guys?," He rolled his eyes, sipping loudly on to his soda purposefully making the other three boys annoyed.

"In derby they're not precisely called 'rounds', they're jams that consistent on a timer of 2 minutes, that, or the lead jammer decides to cut it short," He continued to explained to them, as he beamed waving another player in the rank, "we could say the end of the first period will be thirty minutes in during jams, cause they're two periods. A game last sixty minutes you guys."

They blinked in confusion.

"And.. what exactly are jams again?," Stan winced out apologetically, as Butters groaned annoyed and roll his eyes in response.

"What's hard to understand?," Butters exclaimed in disbelief, "first pass; choosing the lead jammer, no points counted. Second pass; the pointer starts and the first jam is started."

"Dude, what's a jammer?," Stan asked still confused.

"And how the hell do we count a point?," Kenny added.

Butters frowned, "you guys didn't talk to Eric did you," he guessed out making the three boys look at him with blank stares.

"Look, Butters, where here. That's all that matters," Kyle chimed in, as he extended his arm around his shoulder making him arched a brow.

"My god. What're you guys planning to do." He immediately pointed out, realizing their motivates.

One of the perks of being around Cartman for so long is to recognize a liar, manipulative, two face bitch a mile away trying to take advantage of his naive behavior. This knowledge is something Butters holds dear on to, as it's gotten him out of many messed up schemes from his peers before, even from Eric himself. Giving him a boost of confidence while contradicting someone is he didn't agree on what they're doing, saying or opinion. He felt a little more freeing knowing he can atleast not take shit from his friends when he didn't feel like doing so unlike with his parents.

"Well good luck with that," Butters hummed out as he heard their improvised plan, "if you guys want to actually sabotage Eric's skates you're gonna need to do it now before the jam starts. Their break is thirty seconds long before a next jam starts and their longest break is a minute long on mid period, so you should guess, Eric has no plans on taking his skates off," he said nonchalant, now gesturing a snack seller to come towards him, purchasing a bag of gummy bears.

He held in front of Kyle, "these are gonna be for Eric cause he's gonna win no matter what," he said in a confident manner, intending to provoke the red head.

Kyle frowned, "just you wait!," He screamed as he stormed off to the benches, Stan following behind.

'Fucking asshole, who does he think he is?'

He kept on walking ignoring his best friend's complaints, as he halted abruptly, the whole damn reason he was here was because of Cartman, and he didn't even bother to even check if he was there at all. But now, holy damn. Now he couldn't just ignore him. He stood far apart near the circuit track chatting with all his teammates next to the penalty box.

'Wow' his eyes widen, bewildered. He's seen Cartman's in his derby uniform in Butters pictures, but the real deal was entirely different.

It felt like his surroundings just stopped moving as Cartman was the only person there that moved in a very slow dramatic way. Everything becoming blank an fuzzy as the only color there that blossom was Cartman.

And no matter how far Cartman was from him, he felt like he was the closest thing there that his eyes couldn't unfocused on.

'Kyle?'

'Kyle, dude!'

"Huh?," he asked now seemingly confused, turning to look at Stan.

"The oil?," He reminded him.

"Right," He blurted out continuing to move, side eyeing Cartman; as he turned his back flipping off some players from the opposite team.

'Oh god'

He stopped again dumbfounded, contemplating how well those shorts complemented his hips and-

'Kyle!'

"Ah?," He asked startled by the abrupt tone, "right!," He reminded himself, as he shook his head running twoards the benches were the players kept their belongings.

They searched through the bags looking for Cartman's, but they couldn't find it.

"Kyle, look!," Stan pointed out, were the coach sat in a empty bench with a bag seemingly not his.

'That's Cartman's,' he felt it.

"I'll distract him, and you sabotage his skates," Stan ordered, shoving him the oil as he approached the coach.

He nodded, as he slowly pulled the bag away as Stan had forced the coach to help by leading him to the bathroom as he had faked puked.

He opened the bag and looked through Cartman's things, he gripped on to the skates beaming relieved that he hadn't put them on yet. He took the oil from his pocket and opened the lid accidentally dropping it inside the bag. He reached out for it and gripped on to a folded piece of paper.

He examined it closely and seemingly enough, it was definitely a very old careless torn off polaroid folded by the middle. He flipped it open, and found four boys popped up posing silly as one flipped off the camera, another beaming mischievous, the other peace signing smiling, and lastly another making a goofy face.

Those four boys were them.

He felt himself contemplating between the bottle of oil or the polaroid photo, feeling himself softened, unsure of what to do.

He gulped, "C'mon, dude, Cartman's coming," Stan said worrisome, as he grasped his arm dragging him away to their seats.

"So? Did you manage to oil them in time?," Stan asked expectantly, sitting down.

He nodded reluctantly knowing damn well he didn't.

The jam was about to start, as the players got in position. For what Butters had told them, Cartman was the pivot, so he placed himself in the pivot line alongside the opposite team's pivot which is infront of the blockers and lastly behind them, the jammers.

A pivot being the one that normally leads the blockers signaling the strategies that will be put to use, also being the only teammate there that could turn into a jammer during a jam.

Apparently the first pass is where they choose for the the lead jammer.

Then second pass is when the score begins to count.

Or something like that for what he understood.

Kyle bit his nails nervously, watching Cartman smirking mockingly the other pivot. The red shorts and white shirt with the added helmet suit him so well it even looked grossly cute.

He rubbed his face with his hands, he wasn't thinking straight, literally.

He rubbed his legs as he heard a whistle blow initiating the first pass.

He digged his nails on his legs, seeing Cartman skate on the rank was extremely..

"Don't worry, dude, we'll get him next time," Stan reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder in a comfort gesture. Probably thinking he looked upset that the 'plan' failed.

'Oh God,' he plead merciful, looking Cartman rolling around the track as he 'booty block' a blocker.

He unintentionally bounced his leg frantically, as he keep watching Cartman making sure the jammer pass through with ease.

"We still have the marbles," Kenny reminded, as he was kinda entertained by the game, stealing Cartman's gummy bears from Butters.

But he was already too far off to listen, seeing how a blocker shoulder bumped Cartman's side as he hip trusted his side in response moving him sideways letting his jammer pass through.

Two whistles were heard as the referee gesture south park's jammer as the lead jammer, the crowd cheered as most there were obviously from the town.

Cartman stretched his back, clapping hands with the jammer in a smugly manner.

He quickly stretched down his hands to his toes as he quickly went back to position.

Kyle mentally saving that small moment savoring every second, his leg bounce some more, unknowingly receiving a concerned stare from Stan.

He felt himself heated, as his legs moved frantically, faster, zoning out by the fuzzy and blurry feeling he felt, breathing heavily as he watched Cartman now on his second pass.

He panted, as he tried grasping for air, Stan turned his way giving him a weird look alongside Butters who heard him squeeze.

'Oh god' he thought as he abruptly stood up, dashing to the bathroom, he excused himself as he pushed some people out of the way.

'Hormones, hormones, hormones, stupid hormones!' He screeched angrily smaking his head consistently, earing weird stares from the people around.

He entered the bathroom turning on the sink and splashing water on his face, cooling himself down. Not daring to look down.

He looked at his flustered face, in horror realization, 'there was no fucking way' he eyed his dilated pupils as he gently caressed the side of his eye.

'No. Way.'

Stan dashed after him, entering the bathroom and kneeling beside him as he found his friend curled up in a ball at the floor corner.

"Kyle, what's wrong?," he asked worried.

Kyle hold on to him as he bawled his eyes out, sobbing uncontrollably by the overwhelming emotions.

Stan was left bewildered as Kyle vomit on him still holding him by the arm.

"Dude, chill the fuck out. Tell me what's going on," Stan said sternly holding on to his shoulders making him look at him in the eye.

Kyle swallowed loudly, denying with his head as he stood up tirelessly, "let's just go.."

Stan reluctantly stood up not furthering questioning his friend as he followed behind him brushing off the vomit out off his jacket.

Stan halted looking at his best friend continued walking off, he went to Cartman's bag as he got out a piece of paper writing down 'we need to talk, meet up at yours after your derby race, fatboy -s,' now no longer caring being caught in the rally or snooping in his stuff.

°°°°

Cartman quickly rolled down town, not caring about ruining his derby skates as he was afraid of possible blackmail by the hippie of all people!

He couldn't even celebrate his victory with the guys by getting pizza, cause he had jolted off like a mad man not being able to enjoy his awsome evening.

He gripped tightly his bag as he got to his side of the sidewalk eyeing Stan sitting in his doorstep.

"What the hell do you want," he pointedly accused, almost slipping down by a small peddle.

Stan stood up looking at the floor with both his hands in his pockets.

"I think Kyle's really affected about you not telling us about being in the South Park derby team," he bluntly admitted, causing Cartman to tilt his head confused.

"Huh?," he said.

"Look, fatass, just.. I think you should talk to him." He frowned, glaring at the floor before glaring at him, "Dude, I'm serious, if you try saying some stupid shit to him I promise you I'll tell everyone about the Jody incident," he threatened.

Cartman flinched, "who told you," he shuddered out.

Stan rolled his eyes, "you weren't really being discreet Cartman it was a public park dude, anyone could've seen you ." He shaked his head dismissively, "look, I don't care if you're gay and shit, I just need you to tell Kyle you didn't mean to hide the derby thing from us."

Cartman spat offended, "he kissed me, dude! Not the way around, I was startled okay!?."

"Yeah, whatever dude. Just talk with Kyle," Stan shrugged off indifferent before walking off.

Cartman grumbled, he couldn't believe Stan had saw the incident with Jody. He really wasn't expecting it! That dude just sent him a letter in his locker and he figured it'd be some chick confessing her overbearing love for him not the ginger kid he manipulated back in forth grade.

He sighed as he tossed his bag at the door before taking off his skates angrily and bitter, tossing them to the ground as he walked barefoot to Kyle's front door.

He knocked unwillingly, as he placed his arms behind his back hearing steps head down stairs.

"¿Yeah-" Kyle's mouth flattened, gripping on to the door frame, "what you want, fatass?."

"You're hippie boyfriend complained to me you were upset over the rally thing, I didn't know you'd figured it out," he shamelessly rat on Stan.

Kyle frowned, "I don't care," he spat out dryly.

Cartman stared at him for brief seconds; he wore a white t-shirt and some black square patterns bottom pj's. His gaze fell on the now naked wrist, Cartman figure Kyle would eventually take the bracelet he gave him but now looking at his wrist, it made him feel a little disappointed.

Kyle awkwardly hid his hand when he noticed.

Standing awkwardly for seconds that felt like minutes.

Things between them have just been so awkward nowadays, and Cartman hated to admit why.

"Okay, cool.." he blurted out looking at the ground then turning around and walking back home.

"Wait," Kyle spat out, now holding on to his arm stopping him.

Cartman cursed inside him for feeling his heart skip a beat.

"What do you want?," he shoved his hand off.

"I think we should just.. talk about it," he admittedly struggled out, wincing his eyes, "someone has to put an end to it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cartman glared defensively, acting like he didn't know.

"Cut the shit, Cartman. You know, I know," he stated firmly, gripping on to Cartman's shoulders making him look at him, "we should just get it out of our chest and move on."

"I don't know what you're talking? I've moved on, Kahal, but it doesn't seem like you have," Cartman continued lying between teeth, "you're making it weird, our dynamic it's just..flopping? And it's your fault! You broke our rule, kyel," he continued pin blaming Kyle.

Kyle glared at him, "Cartman, were not gonna leave from this spot until we finally discuss it. It's driving me crazy."

"Watch me," he dared trying to leave, but was gripped hard on to his arm earning a '¡owe, Kyel that's hurts!,' "okay, fuck! We'll talk just let me go you asshole!," He whined out in a cry, scowling him as he now let him go, rubbing frantically the injured area.

Things weren't going to turn back to normal. They knew that, it was hard to grasp it. And they've tried so hard to shove it off.

He and Cartman hated change, that was something they both openly agreed on.

Their dynamic has always been like that; they've have some bizarre moment between each other and they shoved it off behind the back of their brains trying to not acknowledge it, trying to not take it seriously. Just getting back to their usual banter ignoring whatever happened between them that shook them off from their usual dynamic. Like a intruder invading a home that was built by scratch and decorated with time and being carefully planned; moving all their stuff and placing them elsewhere, stealing them, breaking them pretty much destroying the property they built for years.

They feared for it to happen again, making new barriers and creating knew strategies to prevent the intruder to make his way back in. Putting up locks and blocking the windows.

Not acknowledging how'd it'd affect them physically and mentally.

Making their little spacious home fell more like a trap, tight, suffocating, imprisoned. Being scared to get out but also craving to get out and breath some air, some freedom.

Screeching for help, as they longer couldn't stand those walls, trying to grasp on the little space they had while it slowly killed them.

They figure it wouldn't be any different now, but they were wrong. They just couldn't, they had went to far pretty much breaking a entire wall out, being in for so long inside the opening freely feeling just being too overwhelming for them to welcomed, handle.

No longer having the energy to just block it, as they were just tired, and the damage was too much to build around it with out destroying it more in the process.

Which they have been doing unintentionally, being so.. out of character, feeling more vulnerable around each other, one being uncontrollably unable to handle his anger and paranoia and the other uncontrollably unable to control his stress and obsessions. The bars were just unbalanced and their personalities were going elsewhere, being mix up with so many feelings they can't just grasp in to it all, having to forcefully grab one an drain it dry inevitable taking all their energy out as they couldn't keep up with the ongoing changing feeling. It felt wrong not being able to control their emotions, it was frustrating not being able to grip on to one, knowing your place and how to act.

It felt so unnatural, and somewhat obsessive being so dependent on each other even when it came to their feelings, characterization and personalities.

Kyle sighed defeated, sitting in the sidewalk, Cartman hesitated before sitting besides him.

Cartman rested his chin in his hand, Kyle half lidded eyes darted to the empty street.

It was time to open up to change.

"So.." Kyle trail off, trying to lighten up the tension between them.

"Kyle, it's clear you don't want to talk about it," Cartman said with a bored face.

"No- I mean I do! It's just.. I don't know were to start," he admitted, looking at the beaming light from the poll from the other sidewalk.

"You mean being some psycho gaywads or about the change of our dynamic?," he guessed, now relaxing his body, shivering lightly as he was already feeling the cold sweep in.

Kyle pouted thoughtful, "honesty? Both," he said, taking out from his sock the bracelet Cartman gave him.

"Seriously? Fucking gross dude," Cartman winced dramatically sticking out his tongue in disgust.

Kyle chuckled unfazed by the comment, "I- I was really angry today cause you didn't tell me about being a south park derby, and somewhat thought I'd be vengeful by throwing my bracelet away, but I just couldn't. I want to have it on me, so I justified myself putting it under my feet for I to continuously stepping on it yet still have it, you get me?."

"Wow, how evil of you," Cartman remarked sarcastic before rolling his eyes feeling a smile crept out his face, "does that mean you've still had it on before today..?" He eyed him expectantly.

"Yeah, dude, I like it. The colors just match well," Kyle nodded admittedly, gently caressing the fabric.

Cartman felt his cheeks heated, flustered embarrassed and slightly flattered, "thanks.." he sighed heavily, "I- I was kinda disappointed you didn't have it on just now," He laughed nervously before playing it off, as he grabbed the bracelet from Kyle's hand and tied it up back on to his wrist.

Kyle let himself smile back by the gesture, letting those feelings invade his now tight fluttered chest.

This felt nice.

"Well now that were being honest here, I was mesmerized by your ass at the derby rally this evening," He shamelessly admitted.

"Woah there, kahal, a little bit too much don't yah think?," he added, a little baffled by Kyle's boldness.

Kyle chuckled, he really enjoyed Cartman's red flustered face. He enjoyed being able to do that.

He leaned forward, "I really liked that kiss," he admitted in a whisper, slyly smirking as he saw Cartman face burning hard red flames, he could swear he even heard a small 'yelp' coming out from his mouth.

Guess the fatass can't find his way to snap back at him, which is a accomplishment on it's own cause Cartman wasn't the one that'll keep his mouth shut always wanting to have the last word into everything even if he had to blabber nonsense to get that.

He squiggle his mouth, moving his eyes fanatically left and right, left, right, left and right again. Kyle cautiously counted each movement, waiting expectantly.

"Me too, jew.." he blurted out after brief swallowing seconds.

"Cool," Kyle nodded, as if he had already knew that.

"About the derby thing, I honestly didn't bothered mentioning it to you guys cause I know the type of assholes you are, not much about.. well it wasn't a you thing," he admitted as he glance the other sidewalk.

Kyle nodded understanding, anger long gone by that point.

"So now what?," Cartman reluctantly asked after another brief seconds of silence.

Kyle shrugged.

They sat for over an hour before being called out by Gerald, who'd ask Kyle to get inside as it was already getting too late. Still not exactly finishing everything they wanted to say but it was enough to bare for the night, Cartman waved goodbye as he left to his home and Kyle stood in his doorstep looking out for Cartman until he saw him get inside his house before reluctantly getting inside himself, contemplating how things unfolded between the two and how good Cartman's gigantic ass looked when he walked off.

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