#but until then all I’ve got is loose sheets of notes on spells and shut bc idk how anything works

[greaseonmymouth]

I’m meeting my D&D group on Sunday for session 0 and I still have NO IDEA what I’m doing and filling out this character sheet is TOO complicated goddamn

[themadauthorshatter]

Guys? I know I just called Tiberias Calore VI, Flame of the North, King of Norta, and Ruler of the burning throne a terrible parent and an alcoholic(which he still is, and I have the time, so I'll call him a terrible parent and an alcoholic), but let's go back in time and get some happiness because that last Red Queen post was, admittedly, just brutal😢.

Hiding a pregnancy was, surprisingly, easier than hiding the affect of the nightmares.

At first, Coriane figured the game would be over as the child inside of her continued to grow more and become more noticable in the trim gowns she usually wore.

Hiding them- the child she didn't yet know- soon became a project, à la fixing a transport.

Rather than have her maids dress her, she had chosen to dress herself instead- a habit she'd picked up on doing since coming to Court. Loose clothing always made her appear smaller than she was, made her look approachable to anyone, despite her place married to a King. It also served her well in hiding the ever growing lump her baby was growing in.

She barely attended training, though, in light of the nightmares taking their physical toll on her body, Tibe had her examined by nurses and healers.

"Your Highness, are you sure you're alright? Your feet are swollen and you seem like there's a weight on you."

When she'd been asked that, she had to stifle the instinct to rub her stomach and instead wrap her arms around herself.

"I'm alright," she replied, more hesitant than she would have liked, but the words smoothing as she continued. "I tried training a while ago and tried a move I shouldn't have. I used some braces, though."

The Healer scowled at her, forgetting Coriane's place as Queen and seeing the stubborn girl that always chose to help herself instead of seek proper assistance.

"I got better. Maybe it's more like... a phantom injury."

"Or you should have come to a Healer when it happened. Can you imagine if you'd set them wrong and didn't know?"

To keep further questions from arising, Coriane only shook her head; Jessamine had taught her well in the art of knowing when to stop a fight from continuing. "No."

The Healer nodded at her and continued to check on her, noting that despite her feet and growing intolerance toward physical contact, she was fine, chalking it up to the Queen's nightmares attacking her body more than her mind.

Still, Coriane remarked as she left the infirmary, eying the bump hidden beneath her thin cardigan, a close call is better than someone finding out.

Another close call occured during a war meeting she attended with Tibe before he had to leave for the front. Even though he was expressionless upon hearing of the attacks on his people, beneath the table his fists shook, either out of anger toawrds the Lakelanders advancing or fear for the safe of what family he had left, fear of losing his mother, despite her prowess, brother-in-law, and wife to a seemjngly unending war.

"Should they make it past the Choke and cross into our boaders, there's hardly a chance we can stop them," the Legionnaire explained. "Our soldiers, although they're trained well enough, keep getting mowed down, as well. They aren't enough man power to hold off an onslaught."

Tibe, who had been sitting quietly in thought, finally spoke up. "For every Red soldier, how many Silvers are on the field?"

"Fifty to one."

When he remained silent, the Legionnaire paled.

"You can't be thinking..."

"If the Reds can't put up a decent fight against the Lakelanders, we'll send in more Silvers to make up the difference."

"With all due respect, my King, surely there is some sort of alternative."

The words drew no reaction from Tiberias, but Coriane lowered her gaze to her hands, picking at her nails to distract herself from the implication.

When Tibe's fingers laced with hers, she welcomed it, welcomed the warmth and closeness their current situation could allow.

"Reds are being conscripted by the minute, more than a hundred by the hour. They can be difference enough."

"Reds don't have power," Tibe seemingly spelled out, scornful as a teacher. "Reds don't have strength. Numbers be damned, if they can't fend off the Lakelanders, we'll have to start sending Silvers to fight."

"Silvers of High Houses? Have them open for slaughter when fifty Reds can get the job done with proper leadership?"

"Your general has trained, led, and been victorious with every Red soldier he's had, what better leadership do Reds have?"

"It is not his fault they're incapable-"

"Can't you just understand it's not working!?" Coriane snapped, drawing every eye to her, including Tibe's, the mask of a warrior King dropping when he took one look at her tear stained face.

"No matter how many Reds you throw at the Lakelanders, they'll be slaughtered without hesitation! You can't shoot down a Magnetron or drown a Nymph, if you have nothing to defend yourself with!"

"Cori," Tibe murmured softly, his tone gentle despite the earlier debate, "that's enough."

The words did their job in soothing the Queen, nodding and apologizing as her husband gently pulled her close to him.

"How soon can we have Silver soldiers sent to the front?"

The finality in Tiberias's words brought the Legionnaire back to the matter at hand.

"As soon as they're ready, though, from what I've heard, they've been training since three months ago."

"Have the most experienced and capable sent to the front while the rest continue training."

With that the meeting ended, and Coriane practically scurried away, if only to avoid the glances from those in attendance.

"If you don't mind my input, I don't understand why bringing the Queen to these meetings is one of your priorities. Do you expect her to keep you safe from unwanted news?"

Tiberias turned, eyes sharp and burning with a fire strong enough to kill.

"She isn't protecting me," he said lowly as he drew closer to the Legionnaire. "She's here to protect you."

In her room, Coriane lay on her side on her bed, her hand caressing her abdomen as her own words echoed in her mind.

Regardless of the fear of losing a fourth child to her nightmares, her emotions had still gotten the better of her.

It's no wonder I shouldn't have come here.

Usually Julian was someone she could turn to during these times, if not him, then Sara, but with archives discovered and needing to be translated, and Healers needed at the front, neither were around for her to talk to.

It was childish, but part of Coriane felt abandoned, even though her brother promised he wouldn't leave her alone.

But how can anyone be brave enough to say no to a King?

Sometimes it was easy to forget, see two people inhabiting Tibe at once: the lonely Prince she'd first met at the banquet and the King that sat upon a throne of flames and blood, strong enough to burn all of Norta to the ground, if he so desired.

And he'd married a poor girl of House Jacos.

What kind of Queen am I, if I can't even bear him a child?

A knock on the door stopped her from building on the thought further.

"Coriane?"

When she remained silent, he knocked again.

"Cori? May I come in?"

She hummed loudly and nodded, and Tibe walked in and shut the door behind him, missing when she grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest.

Despite his strength, his rank, the ability at his fingertips, the myriad of metals she'd seen him wear, even the control he held over a room of other Silvers, he seemed... smaller, unsure as he carefully sat next to her.

He's the King, and he's the one who's scared?

"Are you alright?" He asked as he rested a hand on her upper arm. "I know the meetings aren't easy to handle, but I don't think I've seen you get so upset."

Upset was putting it more than lightly. Three nights of waking up to blood staining the sheets and missing a child before it was born made her more than upset. Hiding her fourth pregnancy from her own husband, out of desperation for the child's safety more than her own, made her more than upset. Fearing for Elara Merandus attacking her mind, even with Arven outside her door, made her more than upset.

"Yes, I'm fine," was all that came out instead.

Neither spoke for a while, leaving them in cursed silence.

That was until Tibe's hand clenched around her arm, just enough to let her know she wasn't alone.

"Don't lie to me," he said, pleadingly so. "I know there's something you're not telling me."

Coriane held the pillow closer to her, the tips of her fingers just brushing against her stomach.

He knows. He knows. He knows. He found out, and now he knows.

But Tibe turned his head away, looking back as his brow furrowed.

"It's Elara, isn't it?"

Coriane met his eyes and pushed herself up. "I don't know. Maybe it was before, but now..."

Now, with Rane Arven outside her door, an attack from Elara didn't seem likely. It didn't quell her fears entirely, but it was a comfort she welcomed, all the same.

Tibe's hand glided to her own, the warmth of his skin and body a blessing.

"Do you think House Merandus would do well on the front?"

Coriane gasped and whipped her gaze to him. "Tibe, you can't make that happen, and you know it."

"And Elara knows you are the Queen. If she wants a fight, she can glady have one to write home about. Whispers usually do well in a war," he said with an averted gaze and a shrug.

"But Merandus is one of the highest Houses. You know as well as everyone else what could happen, if they became an enemy."

Hers words settled in Tibe, leading him to sigh and stare at the floor.

"You're right. Damn it."

Hearing those words, and seeing her own husband pout like a child, drew a small grin from Coriane.

"As usual."

Tiberias turned his gaze back to her. "'As usual?' What do you mean, 'as usual?'" He asked incredulously as a smirk grew on his face.

Coriane merely shrugged and buried her face into her pillow. "Nothing. Just that I'm always right."

Although his jaw dropped, his smile remained, and Coriane giggled as she lie on her side, her facing him.

"You're always right?" He dared.

"Yes."

"You're the one who's always right?"

Coriane gasped, "You admit it?"

Quickly, and gently, Tibe pulled her back up until she was upright and hugged her close, her back against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, Coriane yelping and giggling more than she thought she would, even when he gave her soft, butterfly kisses on her neck and shoulder.

"Who's always right?" He asked as he rested his chin on her shoulder, Coriane lightly chuckling after he stopped.

"Me."

"Wrong," he replied quickly before kissing her cheek and temple, driving his wife into another fit of laughter.

"Will you stop that!?" Coriane exclaimed, even with a smile on her face, "You're prickly and I don't feel good!"

"Then admit I'm always right and..." Tibe lowered to his side, Coriane nearly falling with him. Her heart skipped a beat as he cradled her body against his, one arm around her chest as the other rested over her upper arm. "Tell me what's wrong," he replied softly.

Coriane only grasped onto his arm with her hands.

I'm pregnant, she nearly said. I've been pregnant for a while now. I haven't told you or anyone else because I can't risk losing this one, too, or put you through more loss than you already have. Even if Elara is the reason I can barely sleep at night, I can't lose another child. Not for his or her sake, and not for yours, either.

She sighed, maintaining her smile from the onslaught of kisses moments ago.

"Fine. Yon win. You're always right. Happy?"

Tibe chuckled lightly and shook his head against her hair.

"That's not what I meant. Please tell me what's wrong."

It was like her uncle's funeral banquet, when Jessamine noticed her crying after dressing her for the occasion.

"Tibe, do you miss them? Julian and Sara?"

Tibe remained silent, his thumb rubbing her shoulder as Coriane continued.

"I know it hasn't been that long, but I do. I'm glad that you're here, Tibe, I really am. I don't know, I just miss them being here."

Tibe leaned up and kissed her cheek before nuzzling into her shoulder.

"I miss them, too, Cori. They'll be back soon, I promise."

Like in the meeting, their fingers laced together.

"In the meantime, I hope I can make up for them."

Coriane nodded and held her head against his. "You already do, Tibe," she replied softly.

Tibe held her closer, feeling his Queen's body effectively relax under his touch.

After a while of silence, blissful and welcome, Tibe kissed her cherk and sat up.

"Where are we again on sending House Merandus to the front?"

Coriane snagged the pillow she'd dropped and swatted him in the chest. "Stop that," she exclaimed.

The look of a challenge returned to Tibe's face as he took the pillow and tossed it back to the head of the bed. "Openly attacking your King? Whatever shall I do with you?"

Coriane inched back toward her lost weapon. "Don't you dare come near me with that prickly stubble or I'm shaving it off myself!"

Tiberias faked a gasp and held a hand over his heart. "And now you've threatened the King! You traitor," he chided playfully.

Coriane only reclaimed her pillow and held it back for another strike. "Try me."

Tibe fought a snicker and nodded, holding his hands up in surrender. "Alright. You win."

Coriane lowered her pillow as Tibe kissed her lips and held his forehead against hers.

"I'll tell anyone who asks you're sick and need to be alone while you heal. Just rest now, alright?"

Coriane nodded.

Tibe stood and turned to leave the room, brisk as he had been trained to do.

A King's work is never truly done, Coriane remarked before he stopped and looked back at her.

"Is there anything you'd like me to bring back later?"

Coriane blanched and shook her head. "You don't have to. I can... ask for the chef myself, in case you're..."

Tibe only returned to her and held her hands. "Cori, please."

Again, there was that desperation in his eyes, as if Tibe saw nothing but the girl he'd met many years ago and was willing to do anything to keep her alive.

He could have chosen someone else, someone stronger, but he chose you. You are his Queen.

Coriane nodded stiffly, uncomfortable and still unfamiliar with being served in Court.

Tibe placed his hands on either side of her face and kissed her forehead, holding her close. "I'll try to be back as soon as I can. Please. Get some rest."

"I will," Coriane replied as she placed a hand over his.

With that, he exited her room, reluctant in spite of his promise to return.

Coriane could only smile as she rubbed her stomach, carefully unmarred and thankfully unnoticed.

It was a blessing she still had the boy she'd met, that the crown hadn't taken him away just yet.

[apothecarinomicon]

Spring week 4 part 3

After my hectic experience with the marshbloom, I decided to take a day for myself. Greenmoor isn’t anywhere near the ocean, but Meltwater Loch is big enough that I figured a day spent there could be considered a beach day. And after the couple of weeks I’d had, boy did I need a beach day.

But anyone who’s read this far ought to be familiar with my luck by now. There’s a lot to record, but I’ll try to get it down in order.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

It was a beautiful day—clear blue sky, warm air, and (at least when I first arrived) no one around at Meltwater Loch. I spread out a towel on the beach and laid down for a good session of sunbathing. I’ve never been one for tanning, but  simply laying doing nothing while being warmed by the sun and cooled by the breeze felt absolutely decadent.

After a while of simply existing, I became aware of the sound of a bird calling above me. I cracked my eyes open and recognized the large forms of a pair of gull-drakes flying overhead. Gull-drakes are a strange hybrid, both reptilian and avian. Their torsos and wings are feathered, while their heads, tails, and talons are scaled. They do have beaks like gulls, but their tails are prehensile like their alleged draconic ancestors’. I say ‘alleged’ because no one knows how the hybrid gull-drake came into being. The sheer anatomy and scale discrepancy between the average seagull and the average dragon fossil (they were much larger in ancient times than the pocket-sized lizards we have today) seems to rule out any cross-breeding. Additionally, the typical combination of traits displayed by gull-drakes is too awkward and ungainly to be the result of natural selection. And yet, there have been records of the gull-drake’s existence for just about as long as there have been records—the third-oldest surviving written document, in fact, is a bestiary which includes them along dozens of other species, most of which are now extinct.

Nature is a strange thing.

Digressions aside, there was a reason this caught my attention. Gull-drakes are scavengers, and have been known to leave catches uneaten while they go out to hunt for more. It’s just an evolutionary quirk—they prefer to feast only once per day. This means that, as they leave their nests unattended, some other opportunistic creature could come by and steal their catch. 

It’s easy to identify a gull-drake nest, too—they tend to be very large, and are often positioned balanced atop large, pointy rocks. If a gull-drake catches you stealing, though, it’ll chase you and squawk at you and try to peck you until you drop the stolen goods and flee. They’re not too smart, though, so hiding in nearby foliage (say, a patch of large ferns) will fool them easily.

All of this to say, I managed to get myself a shock fish without a rod, all while only getting chased a little ways by a jealous, stupid bird.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

As I returned to my towel, I heard an unusual sound—the put-put-put of a motor. Machinery of that kind is a fairly new invention, and unless you know how to make it, very expensive.

The woman driving the boat certainly looked like she knew how to make a motor. She was dwarven, with russet hair and a long beard, both held in thick braids. She was (as dwarves are) rather short—I'd estimate maybe one-and-a-fifth meters tall, and nearly as wide—with large hands and feet, and limbs thickly corded with muscle. She wore dark green coveralls and had a fairly heavy-duty fishing rod held in one hand so that it rested on her shoulder.

She shut the motor off as she neared and called out to me, asking if I was the village witch. I said that I was, and she told me that she was friends with my crocodilian patient. She thanked me for helping him, and said he would have been a goner without my potion-making skills. I demurred just a bit, saying I wasn't the only healer who helped him that day. She scoffed and dismissed my humility outright, saying that I might as well have been the only one—that without my care the village doctor wouldn't have been able to do anything.

She introduced herself as Janneth Hillhorn, and I told her my name in turn. She asked what I was doing out by Meltwater Loch and I told her I was taking a day off. She let me know that her cottage was just around the other side of the lake, near Glimmerwood Grove and right on the border of Blastfire Bog, and that I should feel free to stop in any time. I thanked her.

At this point, there was a tremor in the water. It couldn't have been an earthquake because the land wasn't shaking, but the water abruptly became much more active. Ocean-like waves crashed into the shore and Janneth held tight onto the sides of her boat, doing her best not to capsize. I would have been quite alarmed in her situation, but Janneth barely seemed preturbed. I asked something along the lines of "what the blight is going on?!" As the water settled, Janneth told me that this was a common occurence on Meltwater Loch, a quirk that—many said—was due to the emotions of its guardian sea-dragon, Bàs Bàta. I found this explanation rather silly, reminiscent of an old wives' tale. I'd never heard of a sea-dragon before, and given that the name ‘Bàs Bàta’ directly translated to "boat death," I figured it was just a local story told to frighten children and dismissed it out of hand.

Astute readers should be growing worried for me right about now.

Janneth offered to give me one of the fish she'd caught as a thanks for helping her friend. I initially refused, but she insisted. She looked through her basket and pulled out a dentist crab. The gel their claws produce is good for the mouth and plenty else besides, so I accepted and thanked her. She thanked me right back and said (perhaps jokingly?) not to run afoul of Bàs Bàta while I was out by the loch. I forced a laugh as she sped away.

Once she was out of sight, I collected some claw gel from the dentist crab and released it back into the water.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

There was another rumbling as I made my way back to the beach, and as it abated I saw something bob up to the surface of the water close to the shore. It presented itself, et cetera et cetera, I waded in to see what it was.

I scooped it out of the water and found myself holding a glass bottle, like the kind that rum or sweet wine would come in, sealed with a cork and containing a rolled-up sheet of paper. Of course, I opened it immediately. I found that the sheet inside wasn’t quite *paper,* but something more slippery—maybe made of seaweed? It did have writing on it, though. As I unfurled it, a few things that looked like pebbles fell out. I barely managed to catch them before they hit the surface of the water. I put them in my pocket for safe keeping.

The writing on the note was as follows, with no spelling changes by me:

Let it be known that I fink this whole exercise is stupid. And pointless. And probly meant as some kind of sick, twisted punishment. No one but little kids believe in terrafolk, so I don’t know why the instructress is making us do this.

Even if anyfing could live above the water, there’s no way its advanced enough to read. How would it get all the minerals it needs wivout processing the water?

But anyway. I guess I ave to fulfill the prompt. 

Me name is Genoveva, I live in the I.S.A.C.S. (that's short for 'Isolated Sovereign Aquatic City-State, but we all just pronounce it like 'Isax") and I’m in the fifth year of me education. I hate me name. I wish I could ave somefing exotic like a John or a Steve or a Sarah, but I’m stuck wiv boring old Genoveva. If you’re somehow able to read this, that must mean you ave schools on the surface, too. Wat ar they like? Ar they as boring up there? We all ave to sit in a circle and listen to the instructress drone on and on and on.

I live wiv me merma and me perpa and me two baby brothers. Do you ave family? I've got loads of cousins too.

On the rubric it says I ave to include a small gift, so I'm putting some fossil fish scales in wiv this letter. I found em on me way to school this morning and there not of use to me, but I figure you probly don't ave fish on land so maybe scales ar valuable up there.

If you're inclined to write back (no pressure), you can just pop your note in the bottle and put it back into the water. It'll find its way to me—there's magic all around, don't you know.

Signed,

Genoveva Galbrait, 5th year

[An accessible version of this letter can be found here.]

The letter obviously has some pretty complex implications. An entire society under the surface of Meltwater Loch, entirely unaware of the world above the surface beyond fairy stories? What must life be like down there? What kind of society must they have? How do they supply food? Get rid of waste?

What resources might be available there that can't be found on the surface?

I decided that somehow I was going to find a way to visit ISACS, and learn everything I could about it. I bet that would impress the University of Arcbridge. I wasn't sure how I would breathe under the water for long enough, but I was determined to find a way.

Take your final guesses now what happened next.

That water-quaking started up again, this time stronger than before. Waves crashed against the beach where I stood, and I felt a great vibration in my chest and in my head. 

And then, it broke the surface of the water.

Giant and blue-green and serpentine, Bàs Bàta rose up before me. A blighting sea-dragon, it stood straight up in the air at least twice as tall as my cottage—and that was just the part of its body I could see. Its head was shaped like the tip of an arrow, with three great spikes sprouting out of the back (the outer two longer than the middle one). It let loose another deep roar, dousing me in spittle. It thrashed about, causing great waves to crash onto the shore, and through my shock I realized its movements might be less characteristic of anger than of pain.

My suspicions were confirmed when it roared again: one of the fangs right near the front of its mouth was missing a chip, and had a great crack running nearly all the way up to the root. That had to hurt. I'd never treated a non-humanoid  before—or, for that matter, a cracked tooth—but I realized even past the moral obligation to help, there was no way I could access the underwater city-state without calming Bàs Bàta down.

I found out later, after I'd scrambled away from the lake and sprinted back to the cottage, after wiping the saliva off of me and getting at least some of it in a bottle for potion use, that the saliva was actually a really useful ingredient in treating shattered teeth. As it turns out, it's a pretty strong painkiller. Unfortunately, I knew I'd need more than just that to make a cure, and with the sheer size of Bàs Bàta, I suspected I'd need to make more than one potion.

That will have to be a longer term project, then, because the events of my relaxation day have worn me out. I've got to get to bed. We'll see what tomorrow brings.

⇦●〇●⇨

[siriusly-addicted-to-writing]

BOO!

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Summary: [Y/N], George and Fred want to plan the perfect Halloween prank, but during all the planing, the twins decide to prank [Y/N].

Warning(s): “dead” George, unedited, angst, not my best work (read my other George fic for some quality writing haha)

masterlist

——————

A/N: This is for October 26 - ‘Spooky Pranks’ for ‘A Very Harry Potter Halloween’ writing challenge by @eleven-times-lively and @masterofthedarkness (please note that this isn’t my best work. I don’t feel that great about releasing this because I know I can do better. While writing this, it didn’t have my full attention. I was, and still currently am stressing about school and my... guy situation. I do apologize, and please forgive me). Also, I haven’t had any time to write and I’ve been very uninspired. It’s very sad, but I’ll try and get my inspiration and time back! Anyway, I do hope you enjoy, even if this isn’t my best work!

——————

Spooky season was among the students of Hogwarts. It didn’t help that Fred and George were wanting to cause some mischief on this already prank worth holiday.

Last year, the stunt they pulled was unlike any other. Pumpkins smashed everywhere, house elves dressed up as little ghosts, and even Dumbledore was in on it! It was quite a show, and people couldn’t wait to see what they came up with this year.

[Y/N], for one, was super excited because she’d be in on it this year. ‘One of the perks of dating a Weasley twin,’ she would joke. George was just as excited that [Y/N] would be joining the fun this year.

[Y/N] and George’s relationship started fast. They actually started talking after the great prank of Halloween. George met her for the first time as she was dodging a floating pumpkin. 

She was a sharp girl with a not so sharp aim. She nearly took George’s head off by mistake. She was aiming for a jack-o-lantern but narrowly missed George’s head. [Y/N] was so embarrassed, she apologized over and over again. 

George thought she was adorable and couldn’t get her smile off his mind. So days later he had to go and see her again. And again, and again.

Their relationship started fast and it was the best thing that happened to both of them.

For [Y/N], it helped her loosen up a bit. She was always studying and never let loose. They often said that Hermione and her were the same person, attitude wise. George changed all of that.

Now she can be just as crazy as George and Fred, but still buckle down and get her school work done.

Now, since meeting [Y/N], George and Fred’s grades have sky rocketed. Even though Mrs. Weasley hasn’t met [Y/N] yet, she already loves her.

So this years prank was doing to be incredible. [Y/N] was going to see to it.

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

“Fred! Have you seen George anywhere?” [Y/N] asks. Fred shakes his head to the side without looking up.

“Really? I’ve been looking for him everywhere!” Fred just shrugs his shoulders.

“Oh, well, do you know where Harry is?” Fred gestured with his head that Harry was up in his dormitory.

“Well, thank you, Fred. You’ve been very helpful.” Fred nods his head and continues tinkering with whatever new object he’s making. [Y/N] rolls her eyes at the twin before making her way upstairs.

[Y/N] was looking for George to finalize plans for next week. The big halloween prank was upon them, and she had a brilliant idea. One that would blow the socks off everyone.

Fred looks up and watches [Y/N] make her way up the stairs to Harry’s dormitory.

“Phase one, complete,” he mumbles to himself. His eyes follow her until she reaches the door.

She was in for a treat.

——————

“Harry?” [Y/N] says as she knocks on the door. After standing there for a few seconds, she knocks again. When no one answers, she sighs and opens the door.

Maybe they couldn’t hear her.

When she opens the door, the room is pitch black.

“Harry?” [Y/N] says, taking a step forward. Suddenly, the door behind her slams shut. She jumps in the air and spins back around.

“Haha, very funny guys.” She rolls her eyes and walks over to the door. She places her hand on the doorknob but jumps back. The knob shocked her.

Shocked her.

“What the...” she mumbles as she reaches forward again. She can feel the electrical pulse radiating off the doorknob. But she reaches at it again and turns it. Nothing happens but her hand starts burning.

[Y/N] rips her hand off the doorknob.

“What the actual heck?” She glares at the doorknob and measures her options.

Option one: she could knock on the door and scream for help.

Option two: she could try and magic her way out.

Option three: she can look around for anything to help her get out.

Option four: she can accept her fate and wither away in the darkness.

Well, [Y/N] was not about to do option four, so option two will have to do.

“What spell would allow me to get out without breaking anything?” she asks herself. From her knowledge, these doors will not break if she tries to bust them down. They can’t break. 

“Alohomora,” she whispers. Unfortunately, nothing seems to happen. Of course, she tries out a number of over spells, but nothing was working. “Why me?”

Option two didn’t work, so on to option three. 

The room is dark and the only source of light was the light coming from the window.

“The window! Of course!” she says as she runs over to the window. The window was sealed shut and looked like it hadn’t been opened in ages. It probably hadn’t been opened in ages.

[Y/N] tries to open the window but it won’t budge. 

BOOM!

[Y/N] spins around. “What was that?” She stares in the dark room, slowly backing up. When she hits the window she gasps and jumps back. 

“I’m being silly. I know this is only a prank. The twins are messing with me,” she laughs. There was no way that this was real. This was all a set up!

Yeah! 

A set up.

All she had to do now was figure out how to get out the window and summon her broom and she was-

BOOM!

[Y/N] spun around again. Was that just a figment of her imagination or did that chest just move? 

BOOM!

Nope, not a figment of her imagination. That chest jumped. 

It. Moved.

“Nope, not today.” [Y/N] says, moving back towards the door. Yes, the exact door that will not open.

BOOM!

The chest jumped completely in the air, and broke open. [Y/N] screams and closes her eyes. 

“[Y/N],” a faint voice whispers. 

“George?” [Y/N] asks, peeling her eyes open. She looks at the place the voice came and let out another scream. 

George, her George, looks about dead on the floor. 

“George!” she screams, rushing over to him. She falls to the floor beside him and grabs his hand. 

“[Y/N], I have to tell you something.” His voice barely comes out.

“Yes? What is it George?” she asks, grabbing his hand. Tears are violently rolling down her face. She can’t think straight. Her George is dying. 

Dying.

“I don’t love you. I never have,” he says, and takes some ragged breaths.

“No... no,” she stands up and backs up. She pulls out her wand and points it at George.

“Riddikulus,” she whispers. The George that was in front of her disappears. Once he said he didn’t love her, she knew he was faking. She knew that George loved her. She knew. She got the boggart into another chest and locked it in there.

Option one was the only one she hasn’t tried, that she was willing to try. So, she went and banged on the door. 

It took about five minutes until Hermione opened the door.

“[Y/N]? What are you doing in here?” she asks.

“I was locked in, so I wouldn’t recommend going in there.” [Y/N] says, pushing past her to find the twins.

Those twins that almost scared her to death.

“BOO!” they shout when she rounds the corner. The both had sheets over their heads and were dressed as ghosts.

“You two are unbelievable. How could you do that to me?” she nearly shouts.

“What do you mean? Locking you in the dormitory? We were only preparing,” one of the ghosts say.

“Yeah, and you thought leaving a boggart in there was a swell idea?” Tears threaten to fall down her face. George rips off his sheet and embraces her in a tight hug. 

“The boggart got out? We were going to use it for the Halloween prank! I never meant for it to get out,” he whispers, rubbing her back.

[Y/N] closes her eyes and embraces George tight.

“It’s okay, George. I know you didn’t mean it.” 

“We had another prank we were going to pull on you, but we won’t. You still look shaken up,” Fred says.

“Fred, you might want to move that boggart. It’s in Ron’s chest.”

“On it. Thanks for the heads up, [Y/N].”

“All we wanted was to pull a spooky prank on you,” George says. 

“Next year. Now let me tell you about my plans for Halloween.” 

George and [Y/N] walk over to a couch and sit down. George listens thoroughly to her plan and loves very detail. This was going to be the best prank yet.

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

Sorry, this was so bad, but I can’t get into the mindset of Halloween and writing in general.

I was actually listening to Christmas music writing this, haha!

[bjy-on-ao3]

For Your Entertainment

My weekly fic update! I hope this reads well enough. I’ve never juggled this many, um, moving parts before, so hopefully, it reads well. Had this one marked down since I discovered Solomon had a pact with Barbatos as well as Asmodeus (somehow missed the former for a long while). The dots connected themselves from there. 

It is of course n/s/f/w, so it’s under the cut! (As usual, you can find the link to the AO3 version of this in the Masterlist Section of my blog.)

For Your Entertainment 

(F!Reader x Solomon/Asmodeus/Barbatos)

(Slight Solomon/Asmodeus)

As was the case many evenings, you lay stretched out beneath Solomon in the nude, your clothes scattered beside his bed. Solomon, on the other hand, was almost completely clothed, only lacking his shimmering cape, clad in his casual clothes. But you were used to him enjoying unfair advantages over you, even when it was just states of undress. He enjoyed it more that way. He liked to torment and tease you, drinking in your bare skin while you begged for him. Only once he had you worked up thoroughly, whining pitifully for him,  did he shuck off his clothes and answer your pleas.

His hands pinned your wrists above your head easily, his lips meeting yours with a languid passion that turned you into putty without much effort. He ground his hips slowly, agonizingly so, against yours, teasing you with the hardness you yearned to touch and taste. When he stopped, you made a small noise of protest in your throat, looking hazily into his eyes as he pulled away. “Are you ready for that surprise I told you about? I promise you’ll like it,” He asked, his lips brushing yours again fleetingly.

“Only if it means you’ll stop teasing me so much.”

Solomon chuckled at your remark, smiling knowingly. “First, close your eyes and cover your ears,” he instructed, “and wait until I come back.”

Confusion twisted your face, but you nodded and did as you were told while Solomon let your wrists slip free and he moved off of your body. It wasn’t worth questioning him when he was in such a mood - it never got you anywhere, after all. Your eyes slid shut and you clapped your palms over your ears, blocking out sight and sound. Even if your lips didn’t give way to your questions, your mind raced in pursuit of what his surprise could be.

Confident you had done as instructed, Solomon stood beside the bed, murmuring some incantations quietly and focusing on a pair of the many pact circles hidden all over his skin. He had let you see them many times before, each time amused by the expression they drew over your face. It was a pleasant feeling to see the curiosity and awe - and something more - so clearly in response to his accomplishments.

The surrounding air buzzed with energy, peaking with a final burst before two demons appeared in a muted flash. Both wore expressions or arch-browed surprise, though one much more subtle than the other, possibly even feigned. For a moment, both were quiet, taking in their surroundings.

Barbatos, standing straight and poised, shook off his muted look of surprise quickly, replaced by a more typical look of pleasant, knowing calm. His cool green eyes swiftly noted where he was. As for the why? His eyes paused for an instant on your bare form stretched across the bed not far beyond and he knew suddenly all he needed to.

Asmodeus was far more excitable, pale eyes shimmering with amusement and excitement at receiving the attention he always craved, even on such short notice. There was rarely a time the Avatar of Lust wasn’t happy to answer Solomon’s call, and that night was no exception. When his playful gaze fell on your body, a wider smile pulled at his lips, a flash of perfect teeth peeking out. 

“Ooh, what is this, Solomon?” Asmodeus’ tone came out, hushed but laced with excitement.

“You’ve summoned us for the arrangement we discussed not long ago, am I correct?” Barbatos chimed in, a single brow rising gracefully.

“Well, I did say it would be soon,” Solomon answered, in a tone without apology. “Now’s not a bad time, is it?”

“Not at all~” Came Asmodeus’ gleeful answer.

Barbatos was silent for a time, lips barely pursed in a thin line. “Fortunately, no, but I can’t stay for too long.” His eyes flicked back to the bed. “But I have the time for now.”

Solomon grinned back at the pair of demons in satisfaction. “We shouldn’t waste too much time then.”

Asmodeus’ nodded his agreement. “I’m not complaining… but do they know we’re here?” He asked, the sly look in his eyes implying he already knew the answer.

Solomon laughed softly. “I thought a surprise would be more fun,” he said, turning and walking back toward the edge of the bed where you lay.

“I love the way you think,” the Avatar of Lust purred.

Barbatos remained quiet, save for a soft hum of thought.

Your forehead scrunched when you noted what sounded like muffled talking not far away. Had someone come to the bedroom door and you hadn’t realized? Or was Solomon talking to himself? Practicing some kind of spell as part of his surprise? Were you just imagining things?

“Solomon? Are you talking to yourself or am I going crazy?” You called, your volume louder than intended with your ears covered.

He bent down beside you, pulling your hands gently from your ears and leaning in to place his lips beside one. “Your surprise is ready. Sit up,” he began, helping to shift you into a seated position, hands lying in your lap. “Now open your eyes.” His cheerful smile was stuck to his face, intently watching your face.

You did as he said, slowly peeking between your lids before fully opening your eyes. When your focus cleared, your heart nearly jumped out of your throat, drumming wildly as a heated flush overtook your face. You fumbled for the bedsheets, jerking them up in front of your naked body. “Solomon, why didn’t you tell me to get dressed!?” You hissed, not daring to look anywhere else but directly at him. You should have been angrier, but you were more mortified.

Solomon just laughed off your reprimand, placing a hand across your cheek and admiring the embarrassed look on your face. “Because they’re your surprise.”

Your brain seemed to short-circuit at that moment. “Oh..” you sputtered quietly, trailing off before “Oh.” The realization hit you like a ton of bricks and your face burned more, warmth trickling down your neck and chest.

“No need to be shy, dear,” Asmodeus piped up in a warm, cheery tone. He appeared as amused by your embarrassment as Solomon was.

“Perhaps you should have given them some warning, after all,” Barbatos mused. His words implied concern, but the way the hard line of his lips had quirked upward belied his enjoyment.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, is it? Do you want them to leave?” Solomon asked.

“I, uh, no, no, I’m fine. I was just, well, surprised, that’s all,” you admitted sheepishly, your grip on the sheet relaxing. 

“Where were we then? Oh, right.” Solomon cut himself off, covering your lips with his and prying the sheet from your loose grip.

Despite the spike of shock that had made you tense, you quickly melted back into Solomon and your eyes drifted closed as he finally tossed the sheet covering you away and coaxed you to to your feet. You let him lead you towards the other two.  When Solomon broke away from you and your eyes opened, you were standing between the three men.

Your breath caught in your throat and your heart skipped a beat, nervousness rising. There was something so stunning about having the attention of multiple partners. Partners who, between them, surely had thousands of years of experience. Having them focused purely on you was rather intimidating, but beyond that, very arousing. 

A hum of energy made the air shift and shudder and after a second you stared at the demon forms of Barbatos and Asmodeus, a reminder of who you were dealing with. Asmodeus was the first to step closer after Solomon moved away, his tone soothing and seductive. “We’ll take good care of you, darling,” he reassured you, the tips of his manicured nails trailing over the junction of your neck and shoulder.

His fingers fled lower, tracing your collarbone, and he dipped his head. Stray strands of his brown hair tickled your neck as he pressed his lips there, soft and insistent, and you made a small noise like a sigh. Here and there came the gentle prick of teeth and a light scrape when the tips of his horns touched your skin. Your eyes flickered closed, the sensual touch of Asmodeus’ lips and hands soothing the tension in your frame.

You nearly jumped when a second set of hands joined Asmodeus’ from the opposite side. Your eyes snapped open again at the smooth, silken texture of gloves on your skin, finding yourself staring into pools of tranquil green. Barbatos had never been easy to read and now was no different. His overwhelming demeanor was calm, though hints here and there of deeper feelings shone through. The gentle curve of the corners of his lips remained and something fleeting and impish swirled in his gaze.

Distracted by Asmodeus’ touch, it occurred that you had never seen Barbatos up quite so close and the sight was dazzling. You had little time to dwell on the rare sight, though, before Barbatos closed the remaining distance, one hand stroking purposefully over your jaw. His lips sealed over yours, a kiss that was familiarly dominant and firm, as you were used to with Solomon. Though unlike the sorcerer’s kiss, Barbatos’ gave off an almost tangible sense of control, luring you to follow his lead.

You relaxed into the kiss, letting Barbatos pull at your bottom lip and worry it between his teeth. As he drew his tongue along the seam of your lips, Asmodeus strove to win back some of your attention, engulfing one of your nipples with his mouth and roughly pinching the other between his fingers. Barbatos swallowed the surprised yelp, his tongue snaking into your mouth and tangling with your own.

A third pair of hands settled on your skin, coupled with the hard, warm press of Solomon’s body against your backside, finally stripped to nothing. One of his hands stole a breast from Asmodeus, kneading the soft mound in his hand, while the other rested on the curve of your hip. After a while, you had trouble distinguishing between Solomon and Asmodeus’ hands, though Barbatos’ were hard to mistake due to his gloves.

When Barbatos pulled away from you, your eyes opened in time to catch Asmodeus thread a hand in Solomon’s hair and kiss him fervently. Catching your glance, Asmodeus grinned coy but sweet when he parted from Solomon’s lips. Solomon’s smile was much more mischievous.

Barbatos stepped away, dextrous fingers working at his clothes. In the meantime, Asmodeus and Solomon swapped places, and then Solomon was kissing you. On his lips, you tasted something thick and cloying you could only assume was from Asmodeus, though it only added to the allure of the kiss. Asmodeus’ hands swept up and down your body, over the swell of your chest and down your stomach to briefly tease the vee of your thighs, then slipping away. Each time his fingers inched towards your folds, your breath hitched in your throat, distracting you from your kiss for an instant.

Finished undressing, Barbatos returned to your side and it was Asmodeus’ turn to get rid of his clothes. Finding you entangled in Solomon’s lips, Barbatos turned his focus to your throat and breasts left suddenly neglected. When his hands palmed your breasts, you realized the soft touch of his gloves had disappeared with the rest of his clothes. A feeling just as cool and smooth ghosted over your hips and thighs. It flickered over your skin gingerly, like the tongue of a snake and a quick peek down revealed it was the two-toned length of Barbatos’ tail. It took up the torment Asmodeus had abandoned, the twin tips lightly tracing your thighs and the line of your increasingly more damp cunt.

When Asmodeus came back and the hands and bodies of all three men were upon you, you worried you might well combust from the swell of heat in your gut. Your pussy felt so wet you didn’t know how you weren’t dripping down your thighs - though you were sure the tips of Barbatos’ tail were coated in your essence. Between them, the trio left hardly any sensitive part of your skin untouched. Your lips, throat, breasts, stomach, thighs, ass, and cunt - there was some hungry, sensual touch on every part of you. 

The stiff, eager press of their cocks against sent a bolt of excitement through you, like lightning through your veins. Each one was eager for some kind of attention, whether the warm touch of your tongue, your fingertips, or the wet, tight embrace of your pussy, With eyes closed, the kissing passing between the three men, you weren’t even positive anymore who was where. All you knew was that you were in the storm's eye and it turned you on more than you thought possible.

When you thought you might shout and beg from the mounting need in your core, your lips were freed and a set of hands and lips slowed. “Hm, I’ve got an idea I think we can all enjoy,” Asmodeus purred, low and excited. He made his way towards the bed, lying down near the foot of it and sprawling out along the sheets. “Come here, dear,” he instructed, beckoning you with a crook of his finger.

Too worked up to question what Asmodeus had in mind - or wait for the input of your other partners - you heeded his command with no hesitation, stopping beside the bed.

“Good,” Asmodeus praised. “Now come up here,” he continued, gently tugging on your arm, one hand on your hip.

You obeyed, letting him push and pull and direct you until you were poised on your hands and knees above him, facing the end of the bed, your sopping cunt hanging enticingly above him. You tried not to linger too long on the tantalizing sight of Asmodeus’ prominent erection below you, turning to the others with half-lidded eyes.

“I think I know what you have in mind,” Solomon said, climbing onto the bed.

His knees dug into the sheets, just beside Asmodeus’ head, adding the length of his stiff, wanting cock to the Avatar of Lust’s already delectable view. Solomon set his hands on your hips, stroking them along your curves and massaging your skin, making you shudder. From beneath you, Asmodeus let out a hum of delight, throaty and carnal. Peeking downward, you noticed his tongue dart out and wet his lips hungrily. 

Barbatos joined the three of you on the bed, too, but on the opposite end, his knees caging in Asmodeus’ legs. As Barbatos settled into place, his cock waiting impatiently before you, you imitated Asmodeus’ lustful gesture, your lips suddenly dry. Barbatos splayed a hand across your head, fingers looping themselves in your hair and gently adjusting your head to line up more surely with his cock.

All the pieces were falling into place and Asmodeus’ plan became obvious. The arousal already churning your gut and making you wetter by the second surged in anticipation. The three men had riled you up so much already, but there was no limit to your desire - or theirs. The air was thick and hot and heavy around you, nearly suffocating, but in the best way. Your heart was pounding a feverish tune, blood roaring in your ears.

The three seemed to have agreed beforehand to tease and draw out your anticipation as long as possible. Despite the tip of Solomon’s cock brushing your dripping folds, he didn’t push forward, only teasing your heat. Despite Asmodeus’ fingers spreading your pussy and exposing your clit so that his breath washed hotly over it, he went no further. Despite Barbatos’ cock hanging heavily, nearly touching your lips, pre-cum beading enticingly on the tip, he only smiled down slyly at you.

That wasn’t the end of your torment either. Solomon’s hands continued to knead the soft skin of your hips, occasionally dipping underneath you to rub gingerly along the vee of your thighs. His lips touched the end of your spine and tailbone deceptively lightly, his tongue tracing the line.

Asmodeus’ other hand stroked and teased your skin, lightly dragging his nails up and down the inside of your thighs. Now and then, his fingers strayed from your skin to brush along Solomon’s length, as if he couldn’t resist taking the opportunity. The larger set of his wings curled up and inward, the soft, hooked tips caressing your skin.

Barbatos wasn’t about to be left out of your torture either. One hand lingered in your hair, massaging your scalp, the other moving down your throat and collarbone until his fingertips skimmed over your pert nipples, making your lips round in a quiet gasp. His long, sinuous tail twisted forward, the twin tips wandering back-and-forth from whichever breast his hand wasn’t tending to trail beneath your ribcage.

“Fuck, you’re all driving me crazy. Please, please,” you begged, feeling your sanity and shame wane the longer they subjected you to the blissful torment.

“Patience. You’re so eager,” Barbatos reprimanded in a calm tone, huskier than you were used to hearing as if his desire was smoldering just beneath his serene surface.

“And so greedy,” Solomon added, darkly, sounding much more noticeably aroused.

Asmodeus giggled coquettishly. “Mm, can you really blame them? I bet it’s so hard not to be. I bet you just want to scream, don’t you?” 

Their banter made the ache in your core and the hot flush on your skin intensify. You made no attempt to answer Asmodeus’ question - not that you knew whether an answer was wanted at all. You were drawn too deep into the overwhelming touches dancing over your body and the pleasure they wrang from you.

Their attentions only escalated. Solomon popped the head of his cock into your slick hole, a pleased rumble in his chest. He stopped before pressing in further and the sensation was maddening. A plaintive whimper drifted from your mouth, a wordless plea for Solomon to continue. Your whimper turned to a surprised cry as Asmodeus finally teased your clit with the tip of his tongue. Barbatos took the chance to rub the tip of his cock along your lips, glossing them with pre-cum. The cycle went on, each action amplifying the intensity of the others’. 

“Why don’t you tell us what you want?”. Solomon prompted. 

You whined, lips fluttering as you strove for the words, brushing over the tip of Barbatos’ dick and making him groan softly. After a moment of struggle past the mental fog, you found your voice. “Touch me, fuck me, make me feel good. All of you, please.” The words burst past your lips, wild and desperate and filthy.

All the buildup had shattered what little dignity you cared to hold on to. Replaced by a torrid swirl of primal desire. It was how Solomon most liked to see you, unbound and nearly trembling with need. Nor was the effect lost on Asmodeus or Barbatos, your dirty pleas only encouraging them.

Satisfied with your surrender, Solomon pushed his hips forward and buried himself fully inside you, your cunt already tight and fluttering around him from their ruthless teasing. Asmodeus abandoned his slow, light pace, moving to drag his tongue over your clit in heavy strokes or sucking on the sensitive bud. You would have moaned and cried out, had Barbatos not stuffed your mouth full with his dick, easing it in and out in short bucks before letting it linger on the back of your tongue.

You were hardly given time to adjust to having both your cunt and your mouth filled, though the buzz of pleasure from Asmodeus tracing vigorous shapes over your clit was plenty to distract you from any discomfort. Solomon and Barbatos quickly found a tempo together. Each drew back, leaving you feeling empty and wanting, panting and gasping, only to fill you up again. You groaned loudly each time Solomon drove back inside, his cock angled just right. Each noise came out muffled by Barbatos’ dick, the vibration only adding to his pleasure. 

Solomon’s bawdy grunts and moans joined yours, as did Barbatos’, soft, but low and primal. Needy, plaintive sounds escaped Asmodeus, drawing you out of your sex-induced stupor long enough to notice he could use a hand. Bracing yourself as best as possible on one hand, rocked by Solomon and Barbatos’ combined efforts, you wrapped a hand loosely around Asmodeus’ cock, pumping up and down. Immediately he gave a relieved sigh, the appreciative noises melting into muffled, airy moans of pleasure to match the others.

It wasn’t long before the room was filled with the wet slap of skin on skin and a plethora of erotic noises. Grunts, moans, breathless gasps, and keening cries, some stifled, others surely heard beyond Solomon’s door. None of you had the mind to care, too caught up in the sweltering heat of the tangle of bodies and the feverish throes of desire. The higher the buzz of pleasure and passion mounted, the higher the volume of the sultry sounds.

All focus was lost. Your hand caressing Asmodeus’ cock remained firm, though your strokes were sloppy and frantic the closer your orgasm drew. Around you, the chorus of lewd noise from the men only heightened the tension and fire in your belly. Yet none of them sounded so close as you felt, gifted with the attention of all three.

When your release washed over you like a flood, your back arched and your toes curled, a half-shout quickly muted by Barbatos’ unrelenting pace, nearly gagging you on his cock. The pitch of your partly choked cries fueled their ardor, none of their paces letting up. Asmodeus continued to suckle and lick at your clit as if a man starved, interspersed with wanton moans, some loud and clear, some stifled by your skin.

With your cunt tightening urgently around his cock like a warm, welcoming vice, Solomon was hard-pressed to hold out much longer. Enveloped by your embrace, tight, soft, and wet, Solomon felt the telltale tension in his groin coming to a peak of its own, and he swore loudly, bent against your skin. His tempo broke, hips stuttering against your backside as he fought not to cum just yet. 

Asmodeus thwarted his attempt to hold back. The indecisive hand wandering between your skin and Solomon’s moved to focus solely on the sorcerer, fondling and massaging his balls and the base of his cock each time Solomon withdrew. Between the frantic squeeze of your pussy and the added attention from Asmodeus’ experienced touch, Solomon couldn’t hold on any longer. His thrusts faltered to a few hard bucks against your hips, filling your cunt in several hot jets of cum before pulling out and reclining back against the bed.

Asmodeus was next to climax, but not before attacking your clit with renewed vigor, intent on hearing more of the sweets sounds your orgasm had worked from you. Before you knew it, you were cumming all over again, your cries even more debauched and loud, despite your full mouth. The sweet, stifled tones of your voice were the last little push Asmodeus needed before he was cumming as well in thick spurts, spattering your chest with his load. His passion-laced voice nearly pitched higher and louder than your own until finally dying away into labored pants.

That left Barbatos, bucking into the inviting warmth of your mouth and throat. His tail never stilled, flitting between teasing strokes and hard flicks and whips against your back and breasts. But he was close at last, too, the stimulation from all your cries and the slick attention of your tongue on his cock urging him to finish.

You felt exhausted as you settled the hand you had tended Asmodeus with back on the sheets, your arms and legs shaking. Your cunt ached from Solomon’s thorough fucking, though it throbbed with arousal despite it. You were well aware of the hot, sticky feeling of Solomon’s cum dripping down your thighs and Asmodeus’ clinging to your skin. But even as tired as you felt, you couldn’t give up yet.

When Barbatos came, he drew back, only a few drops of cum landing on your tongue. You closed your eyes, lips parted as Barbatos painted your face with his release. When he was finished, you ran your tongue along your cum-slicked lips, relishing the taste of the bitter, salty fluid.

As Barbatos sat back on his knees, the room fell into silence aside from labored breathing. Asmodeus surprised you, clasping your ass cheeks in his hands and urging your hips down towards his face. A shudder of overstimulation ran through you as he lapped at your thighs and cunt, still dripping with Solomon’s cum.

After a time, you pulled away, unable to take any more stimulation, and rolled to the side. You were suddenly aware of just how badly you would need to shower. Enough that you could ignore the need of your thoroughly drained body to simply pass out in a sweaty, sticky, cum-coated heap. You wondered fleetingly how Solomon was going to top something like this.

[dreamcatcherfication]

Dreamers in Fantasyland - Part 1

*SCREECHES IN UNADULTERATED PAIN*

Ahem, anyway. Hello! Why am I starting a new series you say? Well because this was requested by the woderful @theatergirl06, who requested Parrlyn and KatAnna with lots of romantic rescuing. You have no idea what you’re in for with this series. Anyway, this is going to be four parts long and I’ve already written everything, so parts will come out whenever I have no other content to post. Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, I wrote this at 4 AM.

(You’re all about to be very confused with this series. Even I don’t know why this exists....)

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of nausea and feeling sick

When Cathy Parr woke up, she expected to be in bed with her girlfriend Anne Boleyn. Instead, when she opened her eyes, she was immediately greeted with unfamiliar surroundings and unfamiliar sounds. Primarily, the heavy snoring of her girlfriend was gone, replaced with the quiet inhales of whoever was in bed next to her. 

Rolling over, Cathy was even further surprised when she almost fell off the bed and onto the floor. Apparently this was a single bed, unlike the one she and Anne shared, and her companion was on a separate bed on the opposite side of the room. The sheets of her bed were coarse and rough, the bed itself barely held a foot off the ground. “What is this?” Cathy mumbled to herself, taking in the room. It was frightening how similar it looked to the peasant houses during Henry’s reign. 

With the pottery along shelves and brown walls, this was either a really good model for a renaissance fair or - “Cathy, you’re awake!” Came the voice of the other person in the room.

Although her English accent was thicker than Cathy remembered, she instantly recognized Kat’s voice. “Kat?” she rubbed her eyes, hoping that the peasant home would fade away and she would wake up in Kat’s room. When nothing changed, Cathy asked, “Where are we?”

Giggling, Kat threw the blankets off her bed and made her way over to Cathy. Kat still retained the childish glint in her eyes, but she was more refined than Cathy remembered her. She no longer slouched when moving, but kept a perfect posture and a dazzling smile. “Well I’d hoped you would recognize your own house, but you did take quite a fall last night.” Cathy’s mind was spinning, unable to grasp what Kat was telling her.

“This is my house?” Cathy couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed at how dirty and beat up it looked. “What’s going on?” A dull headache had begun to throb in the back of Cathy’s skull, distracting her from her new world.

Without any real concern, Kat titled her head to the side. “You snuck me out of the palace last night, remember? I was hoping no one would notice a noble girl and her servant missing, so we escaped right under their noses!” she grew excited from just telling the story. “While we were running through the docks, you were tripped up by a drunk sailor and you hit your head in a nasty way. You said you were fine, but maybe something got knocked around up there,” she pointed to Cathy’s skull. 

“Wait wait wait,” Cathy put her hand up. “I’m your servant?” This was a lot to handle, and Cathy needed a basic idea of how things worked in this strange, foreign world.

Playfully punching Cathy’s arm, Kat replied, “Only by official terms. We’ve been friends for so long, I can’t even remember a time when I considered you a servant and not a friend. Father doesn’t approve of our friendship, but he doesn’t have control over us.” Flipping her hands, Cathy stared at her dark skin. Was that why Kat’s father didn’t like her? This body she was in was similar (although minorly different) to her modern body and felt distinctly different from her Tudor body. This was clearly wrong. 

A sickening feeling overcame Cathy and she put her hands against her stomach. Gagging, she leaned over as if she was going to vomit. “Cathy?” Kat frantically leaned next to her. “Are you sick? Should I fetch a doctor?”

“No Kat,” Cathy stayed hunched over, waiting for the pain to pass. It took a few moments, but the feeling faded. It must’ve been something to do with adjusting to her body and this new reality. 

The noble girl bit her lip but didn’t move from beside her friend. “I hope you aren’t too unwell. We have to be back to the palace soon for the banquet celebrating Princess Mary’s return to court.”

Freezing, Cathy lifted her head to stare at Kat. “Princess Mary? Kat… who are the Queen and King?”

Kat must have assumed Cathy’s fall was causing her to act so confused, because she didn’t comment on the absurdity of the question. “King Edward IV and Queen Elizabeth! Their beautiful daughter Mary is set to inherit the throne. The King thinks she’ll make a wonderful ruler one day.”

This… was not the history Cathy remembered. In fact, King Edward IV and Queen Elizabeth had died long before Cathy and Kat were even born. And Edward V was supposed to succeed Edward IV, not Mary. What did this mean? “Kat, what year is it?”

Without missing a beat, Kat answered, “1465.”

This couldn’t be real. Cathy couldn’t accept that this was reality. She and Kat were alive in the past - as impossible as it sounded - but they weren’t their past selves. Kat was only a couple years younger than Cathy herself, not the early teens queen that she had been in the past. She had all her memories of the present - future? Cathy didn’t know, but she remembered the 21st century and her newfound family. Cathy remembered her girlfriend, Kat’s cousin, who she wanted nothing more than to be with right now.

But instead, Cathy was walking beside Kat as they made their way to the banquet hall where Princess Mary would be arriving. She and Kat shouldn’t even be alive during this time period, and it felt wrong to be in these halls. But Cathy kept her mouth shut and stayed beside Kat as they passed nobles she could not name. “Jane!” Kat called, running past Cathy to the woman in question.

Jane was strikingly different yet exactly as Cathy knew her as. Her blonde hair was the gone, now a wavy brown, but her loving eyes still sparkled whenever she saw Kat. The way she walked and held herself was identical to her future self, Cathy noted silently. Kat hurled herself into the woman’s arms, practically toppling her in place. “Hello Kat,” she ran a hand through the girl’s hair. “Awfully excited today?”

Pulling away, Kat bounced on her feet. “Yes! I have a wonderful gift for Mary, and I can’t wait to surprise her with it.”

“I’m sure it’s wonderful dear,” Jane replied, smoothing out Kat’s rumpled dress. Cathy put a hand to her forehead, the throbbing momentarily returning. Something about what Kat had said didn’t feel right, but she couldn’t place it, not with the pain in her skull. “Cathy, are you alright?” Jane reached a hand out but didn’t touch Cathy.

“She hit her head last night,” Kat explained. “Cathy can barely remember anything.”

It was strange how Jane didn’t seem bothered by this information at all. “Well, I’m Jane, one of the Queen’s maids of honor. I used to work at a famous pub on the Isle of Wights before I was lifted into court. I look after Kat while her father is away on business.”

Taking in the information, Cathy tried to hide her utmost confusion. This wasn’t the past. This was the future but… they were in the past? All of it was making Cathy’s head spin. “I remember you, Jane,” Cathy said as vaguely as possible. She wasn’t lying, and this way she could convince the two other queens - could she call them that? - that she was okay.

“That’s progress!” Kat cheered as if Cathy was a complete amnesiac. 

Listening to the drunk calls of courtiers in the banquet hall, Jane sighed. “I’m going to have to leave you two and check up on the kitchens. The queen instructed me to keep an eye out for anyone stealing food. Things have been disappearing all over the palace recently, and she fears the thief will head for the food stores next.”

“While Princess Mary is visiting?” Kat questioned. “Wouldn’t they try to steal her jewels instead? It’s a much bigger prize than some bread.”

Jane shook her head. “It’s not my place to question the Queen.”

Her answer seemed to satisfy Kat who waved at Jane as she left the pair to go find the kitchens. Cathy watched her go, suddenly feeling empty without the third queen with them. Jane had always provided stability, something she still retained in this world, and it was something Cathy needed to latch onto as the world spun around her.

Kat grabbed her arm and pulled Cathy past the banquet hall and through the palace. “Kat, where are we going?” Cathy asked, noticing how guards became fewer and far between as they traversed the halls.

“Ssh,” Kat shushed her friend. Stopping in front of a door, Kat pushed it open and stumbled inside. “This is the common room for servants. You won’t remember, but we discovered a hidden panel that leads directly to the royal chambers!”

Frowning, Cathy observed the plain room. “So we’re the thieves Jane was talking about?”

“What? No,” Kat seemed horrified at the idea. “I would never steal from the royal family. And you never liked using the passage, so I don’t think you’re the thief.”

Balancing herself on the wall, Cathy felt another dizzy spell come on. This one was shorter, a sign that she was adjusting, and it passed quickly. “So why are we down here Kat?”

“Oh.” Kat moved across the room to the far end of one of the walls. She started fidgeting with a loose panel of the wall until it came off, revealing a dark hall. “Remember when I said I have a surprise gift for Princess Mary?”

“I might not remember much but that was five minutes ago, Kat,” Cathy rolled her eyes.

Clearing her throat awkwardly, Kat gestured to the passage. “Well I’m going to hide it in her room. We sneak into her bedchambers and hide the gift with a letter from you. With my stealth and your writing skills, it will be the best thing she’s ever seen!”

Kat seemed far too enthusiastic for breaking and entering, but Cathy let it go. What was the worst that could happen?

“Have you finished with the letter?” Kat was pacing around Mary’s room, poking at all the different antiques and riches spread about.

Glancing down at the blank page in front of her, Cathy nervously replied, “Uh, almost done.” Kat made a grunt of acknowledgement and continued to pace. “What did you get Mary?” Cathy asked in order to distract herself from her inability to write. Part of Cathy knew she could write the letter easily, but something was stalling her from actually putting her quill against the paper. It only served to keep them in the room for longer than was necessary as Cathy’s frustration grew. 

Pulling out a small satchel, Kat revealed the gift to Cathy. It was a beautiful glass swan with a black pearl that served as the eye of the swan. “It’s beautiful,” Cathy murmured, staring at the miniature sculpture.

Smiling fondly, Kat nodded. “It was my mother’s. I hope Mary will enjoy it as much as I did.”

Recoiling from the swan in surprise, Cathy watched Kat with an open mouth. “This was your mother’s and you’re just going to give it away to the princess?”

“She needs a gift,” Kat scuffed her foot against the flooring. “The King requests jewels, and this is the only thing of value I have.”

Hatred filled Cathy’s chest as she was reminded of the ways of the English Court. How subjects of the King were forced to give up their greatest possessions only for the royal family to discard them amongst countless other ‘worthless’ items. But Kat didn’t know any better. So Cathy didn’t say anything. She returned to her letter, forcing her hand to put a small splotch of ink on the parchment. A gasp from Kat pulled her attention away once again. The girl had opened Mary’s trunk and was admiring the princess’s many gowns. When Kat started to reach into the trunk, Cathy stood up. “Kat,” she warned.

The wonderment in Kat’s eyes almost won the writer over. She was pleading with her gaze, and it was working on Cathy without her permission. “One dress? Please?”

Relenting, Cathy nodded. “You can try on one dress. Then we leave and return to the banquet hall.”

“Thank you!” Kat beamed. Cathy turned away so she could offer Kat a small form of privacy. She stared at the letter and continued to procrastinate actually putting something on the page. Why wouldn’t her hand just write the words? Quicker than she would’ve liked, Kat spoke up, “Cathy, do I look like a princess?”

Spinning around in her chair, Cathy couldn’t help herself from going slack-jawed. Her friend looked exactly as Cathy remembered her during her reign as Queen of England. It was a horrible sense of nostalgia, and Cathy felt pains in her heart from seeing Kat dressed up. “Cathy, are you alright?” Kat stepped forward, concerned with her friend’s silence.

“I’m fine, just,” Cathy steadied her voice, “change back into your clothes before someone finds you.” 

Kat’s youthful glee was gone, replaced with worry for Cathy. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, thank you,” Cathy murmured. Kat stepped away, but before she could change out of her clothes, there was a knocking on the door. The two girls shared a terrified glance before Cathy started to improvise. “Pretend you’re the princess,” she ordered Kat.

“What?” Kat was against the idea.

“You’re dressed up as the Princess, you pretend to be her!”

Panicking when another knock came, Kat lowered her voice and spoke haughtily. “I’m indecent, come back another time.” Then she turned to Cathy and asked, “Did that sound like Mary?”

Without any actual way of knowing, Cathy gave her two thumbs up and whispered, “Couldn’t even tell you two apart.”

And then the door came crashing open, a woman in britches running in sword first. Kat screamed and launched herself at Cathy, grabbing her friend and holding her tight. The two of them backed up against the wall as the swordswoman approached them. The door swung shut behind her, shutting them in.

Cathy’s head darted to the side when she heard the window click open and another swordswoman climb through it. Once the woman was inside, she turned her back to Cathy and locked the window, obscuring her face. But when she turned around, Cathy cursed herself for not recognizing either of the women earlier. “Anne? Anna?” she asked, holding Kat against her chest.

Anne Squared, like Jane and Kat, were creepily akin to their 21st century selves. The biggest difference for Anna was that she was younger than her modern self. Barely twenty one, Cathy guessed, but she had the hardened eyes of someone who had been doing this for a long time. Anna’s skin was thick and dark, matched with the familiar air of self confidence she always had. Her outfit was a mismatch of a cheap red tunic and black slacks that complimented her fierce eyes. Her sword was sharp and threatening, but Cathy couldn’t picture her actually hurting someone with it.

“How do you know our names?” demanded Anne, stalking forward and pulling out the second sword on Anna’s belt. She pointed it at Cathy’s throat and spit at the ground. Anne’s voice was huskier than Cathy was used to, and it sent her for a loop. Her not-girlfriend was wearing a mostly black outfit, her belt and hat colored with her signature green. It was unnerving how similar yet different this Anne was to the Anne that Cathy was used to. “Eh?” Anne pushed, taking a step closer.

Hugging Kat closer, Cathy struggled for an answer. “You remind me of someone I know,” she offered lamely, hoping they would buy it.

For whatever reason, Anne chose not to push it. “Well it doesn’t matter, you’re coming with us.”

“What?” Kat poked her head out from under Cathy’s arm. “Are you kidnapping us?”

“That’s indeed what we’re doing,” Anna smirked at Kat, causing the girl to once again bury her head in Cathy’s chest. Holding her friend, Cathy tried to offer her a feeling of safety. She knew Anne and Anna would never hurt them, but Kat didn’t know that. 

“Princess Mary,” Anne addressed Kat, “and her…” Anne looked Cathy up and down in a way that made her want to slap the girl that was supposed to be her girlfriend, “strange, yet beautiful servant.” Anne winked, “You’ll do quite well for ransom.”

By the way Kat froze in Cathy’s arms, she could tell they both realized their mistake. “I’m not Prince-” Kat started, but Anna cut her off.

“Please don’t make me hurt that pretty mouth of yours,” Anna waved her sword in a circle. “You two come quietly and no one gets hurt.”

Glancing down at Kat and then at the two swords pointing at her face, Cathy made the decision for them. “Okay.”

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

Tag List:

@radcowboyalmondtree @boleynhowards @annabanana2401 @babeebobo @dont-lose-your-queerhead @everything-insanity @mindless-pidgeon @i-wanna-dance-and-sing-six @thedemidisaster

[kirigaya-art]

Round Robin Ch 5

SIMON

I bite my lip, glancing around the room as I tug on the collar of my jumper-- no. Of Baz's jumper. I'm still wearing his bloody jumper, feeling like the biggest knobhead in the world. Honestly, Baz was right. What kind of mage can't even hold their wand the right way round?

At least now that classes are over for the day and I'm back in my own room, I can grab some fresh clothes that aren't singed, including the jumper I didn't put on this morning. The only problem is I'm still not sure what to do with Baz's.

He said it was okay if I just put it on his bed, right? I wanted to come during lunch, but time got away from me, and Penny was rushing me to our next class together before I could even think about returning the jumper. I ended up wearing it all day.

It was kind of distracting. The smell, I mean. It reminded me of when he and I were curled up so close to each other, after I spelled the room cold… like he was laying on top of me all day, drenching me in his rich earthy smell. Like his arms were still wrapped around me. Like I could still hear his teeth chattering, feel him burrowing his face into my hair. I nearly fell asleep like that in class, resting my head on my arms and breathing in the scent.

But now I'm done with the jumper, and I'm not sure what to do. Just throwing it on his bed seems like something that would actually make him angrier. He'd probably throw a fit over how I'd let it wrinkle, or how I hadn't put it on just the right part of his bed, or any other excuse to start a row with me. (Some days I think he likes fighting with me.) It's enough to make me hesitant and paranoid, and I'm scared to even slip the jumper off until I know where to put it. He usually doesn't come back to our room for a few hours, so I can't ask him either...

"If I were Baz, where would I put my jumpers?" I mumble to myself, lifting a hand to my chin (and subsequently slapping myself with the extra-long sleeve).

I throw open his wardrobe first, squinting around. It looks like he has mostly blazers and shirts in here, but not jumpers. He must not hang them up, which means they're folded in a drawer somewhere. That makes this hunt a little more difficult.

Kneeling between our beds, I pull open the first drawer on his bedside table. I'm surprised to see how neat it is, used to my own drawer full of gum wrappers, crisp packets, and other assorted necessities. His is tidy, with a few things in perfect little rows: a wand case, a small container for hair clips, and a couple of pens in different colors.

Satisfied there are no jumpers, I close the drawer and move on to the next one. This one seems to be designated for school things. There are folders, stacks of paper, and textbooks. I rummage for a bit, checking to make sure there's nothing underneath it all.

I open the third drawer, hoping I won't have to look through the many others in the room. This one is a little less neat than the others, filled with loose sheets of paper and what look like art supplies. Charcoal pencils sit in little tins, and a metal box labelled watercolours is sat on top of some. I suppose Baz is an artist, then. I rummage about, grabbing his artworks to look. It’s mostly unfinished sketches-- I recognise his younger sister from the background of his mobile. (He’s still got it, even though the Mage instated a new rule this year saying we couldn’t have them on campus.) There’s a few coloured drawings, too-- a closeup of a blue eye, a profile shot of someone with just the dirty blonde hair detailed, a study of a mouth with lips bitten pink. He’s not bad, actually.

And then I see it. A hard corner, poking out below the drawings. I push the sheets aside and reveal the true secret of this drawer: a notebook with little hearts and flowers outlined on the cover. The largest heart is in the middle, and written inside it is From NP. His girlfriend, I assume, though I can't seem to remember any girls at Watford with those initials. (A Normal, maybe?) (How scandalous for a Pitch.)

I sit back, peering at the book in my hands. Surely it's filled with romantic poems, or sappy love songs, or otherwise vile expressions of passion, from both him and the unlucky lady. Prime blackmail material.

I try to open the book, eager to see what's written inside, but it won’t budge. It must be spelled shut.

“Open sesame,” I hiss. The book springs open in my hands, and I lean back against Baz’s bed, admittedly proud of my spellwork.

The first page has a date written at the very top, one that's not exactly recent. I have to do some mental math to recognize it as just before our first day of classes at Watford. Intrigued, I start reading.

Being back at Watford is not nearly as cathartic as I had hoped it would be.

I frown. Is cathartic a good thing or a bad thing?

I wish you were here.

'You'? Does that mean the girlfriend?

I miss you. And I don't know if I can stand being here without you. I feel like I'm the only sane person here. You wouldn't believe who the Crucible just paired me with.

So this is from the day when Baz and I became roommates. But who was he writing to? Maybe it was a Normal girlfriend after all-- a tragic story of lovers who couldn't see each other because she wasn't allowed at Watford. I'm just surprised he was dating so early. And if he still has the book, does that mean he still loves her?

I continue.

Simon Snow is the most beautiful idiot I have ever met.

I think that's actually the nicest thing he's ever said about me.

And the Mage is insufferable.

I pout. What does he get out of complaining about the Mage so much? And what girlfriend would want to read his rants?

I skip to a later page.

Today, Snow forgot how to spell demolish when writing me what was supposed to be a threatening note. I couldn't stop laughing.

Flushing, I turn to another section.

Snow fell right on his face when--

Skip.

I can't believe Snow actually--

Skip.

And when Snow was--

Skip.

He was gorgeous.

I freeze, stopping to reread the sentence. Surely that doesn't say what I think it does?

Snow cried last night. He was gorgeous. How does he do that? Even when he’s yelling and sobbing, he still looks like a bloody model. I can't stand it.

I swallow hard, glancing at the top of the page. It's from a few days ago-- the day after the chimera.

It's like he's trying to make me soft. How could I not comfort him? I think I would have died if I'd had to see him so upset any longer.

I know he already told me he comforted me that night. He admitted it when we were stuck in here. But it feels different, reading his perspective directly.

I hate seeing him upset. But I'm usually the reason he's upset. It's all a damn self-destructive cycle that makes me want to

and then there's something frantically scratched out, standing out from his neat handwriting. I wonder what it said, but I'm also not sure I want to know.

I'm in too fucking deep to stop now. But for just one night, I wanted to be there for him, as backwards and asinine as that is. I wanted him to

More scratched out writing.

I just wanted to

Scribbles of ink again.

I hate that I know exactly what he looks like when he cries.

The rest of the page is blank, but that sentence doesn't feel like a proper ending.

He doesn't like seeing me upset? He wants to comfort me all the time? He hates seeing me cry? It doesn't sound like Baz. And I'm getting the feeling this isn't meant for a girlfriend.

I go back a few pages, scanning for something, anything, that might explain all of this. Why he can’t go a paragraph without mentioning my name. Why he’d make me cry when he doesn’t really want to. Why he goes from attacking me to comforting me to pushing me down the stairs to holding me as I fall asleep.

I’m so in love. And I hate it.

In love?

I would do anything if it meant I didn’t have to be in love with

“Snow.”

My head jerks up, and I meet Baz’s gaze.

“What in the World of Mages do you think you’re doing?” He asks. His eyes are cold grey, like impenetrable steel.

“I… uh…” Well, I’m reading his diary, aren’t I?

He stalks towards me, and I can see him starting to lose his grip. His expression is slipping out of its calm disinterest into something dangerous.

“Give that back,” he growls. “It’s not yours.”

For some reason, I hold it tight, like I have a reason to protect it.

“Don’t test me, Snow.” But he doesn’t look like he’s going to bite my head off. His face is all red, but it’s blotchy, and his eyes are shining. I think he’s going to cry. “Just-- just give me the damn book.”

“You love someone?” I ask, like an idiot.

His hand shakes as he grabs the book, trying to tug it out of my grip. “That’s none of your business.”

“Who’s N. P.?” I insist. “Your Normal girlfriend? Is that why you can’t see her?”

He takes a deep breath, expression shifting a few times. I think he’s trying to calm himself down. “N. P. for…” He shakes his head. “For Natasha Pitch.”

My stomach drops to the floor, and my grip on the book loosens enough that he’s able to snatch it away. He clutches it to his stomach like it’s made of glass.

“She was going to give it to me when I started school,” he mumbles. “To celebrate, and so she could be with me all the time, even when she was busy.” He won’t meet my eyes. “Obviously she… she’ll never really read it. But I write to her.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and I mean it.

He glares at me with a passion I’ve never seen before. “How much did you read?”

“Not much,” I lie. “The first entry.”

“You asked me if I was in love,” he reminds me. “How much did you read?”

I swallow. “I… didn’t see who.”

He grits his teeth, pulling his wand from his sleeve. He casts a spell I don’t hear, and the book glows for a moment. He shoves it under the artworks and slams the drawer shut. The sound echoes in my mind for a few seconds.

“Give me my damn jumper,” he hisses, and my face flushes as I remember the point of this escapade. I pull it over my head and toss it to him. He throws it onto his bed, still crumpled into a ball, and grunts, “I’m going to take a shower.” I think it’s because of the tears threatening to spill, but I just nod.

He disappears into the restroom with a change of clothes, and I’m left leaning against his bed.

I didn’t see who he’s in love with, that’s true. But my mind is swimming with everything I did see. What he said about wanting to make me happy. How I made him regret everything he did to me. How his causing my misery was a “self-destructive cycle.” And really, there’s only so much that could mean.

I glance to the door of the restroom. I can hear the water start to run.

Carefully, I pull open the drawer again. I pick up the notebook and try again, keeping my voice low. “Open sesame.” It pops open in my hands, and I gently turn. the pages to find my place.

I would do anything if it meant I didn’t have to be in love with Simon Snow.

I’m frozen in place for a moment, gears turning.

I close the book, too panicked to think of a spell to lock it, and shove it into the drawer, closing it quietly. I’m scared he’ll hear how loud my heart is pounding in my ears.

I stand, find one of my own jumpers in my wardrobe, and slip out of the room. I need some time to think.

[ashes-and-ashes]

Conversation immediately goes to tell all their friends. So through the last couple of months, the lil shits tease and pester Pads about it. Even attempting to physically bully him. Of course they only do this when Pads is alone. (Who can decide if he keep it to himself but for more angst I originally thought he’d stay quiet about it.) So when Moony finds out by finding the evil bullies bugging his best friend, Pads is terrified what his reaction might be. (You can change it up a little idc) -Em

(Second Image is the first part of the prompt, the first image is actually the second part.)

Okay, so this is Part 2! I really hope you like it! It’s probably still crappy cause left hand, so please, please forgive me for any typos or generally shitty writing!

tw for homophobia, bullying and some derogatory language

Part 2:

~

James finds him in the hallway.

He didn’t know how long he had been lying there. It had been quick, merciless and fast. He had been by himself, walking down the hall, when he was stunned from behind. All he remembers was the impact, the way he fell forward, nose crunching against the ground, a flash of green from Slytherin robes disappearing around the corner.

James silently flicks his wand, the spell leaving his cramped muscles, and Sirius sighs. “Thanks.”

James nods, offering a hand out to Sirius. Sirius takes it, his cold fingers wrapped in James’ warm ones, trying not to let his hand shake, trying not to fall apart. He exhales, nose still leaking blood, throbbing and painful.

James winces. “You should see Pomfrey for that. It’s definitely broken, Pads. Smashed pretty good. I’ll walk you there.”

Sirius shakes his head. “It’s fine.” He pulls out his wand, placing the tip against his nose. “Episkey.” With a crunch, his nose snaps into place, and Sirius lets out a quiet moan as he staggers against James. “It’s fine. I’m okay.”

“Like hell you are.” James glares, one arm underneath Sirius’, propping him up against the wall. “They’re hurting you, Pads! They are full blown fucking killing you, and you’re just going to do nothing?”

Sirius shrugs. He jabs at his sleeve with his wand, the caked blood vanishing with a hiss. He had always been good at that, hiding all the blood and scars and injuries. “I’m fine, Prongs. It’s good. We hex them all the time.”

“Jesus - “ James splutters, his face angry and incredulous. “Look, Pads. There’s hexing. Sure, it sucks, and their hair turns pink for a couple of hours, but this! This is full out assault, Sirius. They are literally hurting you!”

Sirius shrugs his hand off, bracing himself against the wall. “I said it’s fine, James. Fucking drop it, yeah?”

When James speaks, his voice is soft. “They broke your nose, Pads. This, and Mulciber broke your finger, remember, and that other bastard knocked you out in the library and - “ He sighs. “And I know what they call you, Pads. Jesus, you have to tell someone. Go to McGonagall!”

Sirius looks down, his voice flat and empty. “And say what, Prongs? That I’m dating Moony? Tell her I’m shagging a boy?” He snarls. “It’s not even my secret to tell, James. She can’t do anything. No one can do anything. All you can do is grin and fucking bear it.”

“But - “

Sirius laughs. “Whatever. I’m used to it.” He smiles. “You think what they do is bad? This isn’t pain, James. For God’s sake, I’ve been cut, I’ve been beaten, I’ve lain on the ground while my mother cut wounds into my back. I’ve been Crucio’d so bad that once, I couldn’t walk until 2 weeks later. I can’t feel my lip, you know, because I’ve bitten through it so many times trying not to scream. So they can’t do anything, James. There’s nothing more they can do. No one will understand.”

“Remus would.” James’ gaze is steady. “You’re right, I can never understand, but Remus can. Tell him, Sirius. You’re being hurt because of him.”

“No.” Sirius’ voice is distant, cool mist over a grey lake. “I’m not bothering him with this. And you can’t tell him. Swear it.”

James exhales. “Fine. But you can’t carry this on your own, Pads. It’ll destroy you.”

Sirius stands, pushing away from the wall. He turns, to walk away, away from the pain and the expectations and the guilt. “Then let it destroy me, Prongs. I guess I fucking deserve it.”

~

He stares down at the parchment, the words swimming in front of him. The cuts underneath his eye throb, his fingers coming away wet with blood when he touches it.

He had told Remus that it came from a Quidditch match, ignoring the agonized look that passed over James’ face. Remus had nodded, brushing over the cut with soft fingers, before Sirius had stalked off to finish his astronomy essay.

With a sigh, he dips his quill in ink, scratching a few letters onto the page. The positioning of Saturn’s rings against the alignment of Uranus’ gravitational pull suggests that...

A splotch of blood falls onto the parchment, crimson red against the yellow. Sirius swears, vanishing the droplet, then places his head into his arms.

It had started off so small. Mainly the Slytherins, but a few others as well. Just small comments: “You’re a fag!” “Always knew you were a poof, Black.” “Running off to shag that boy of yours?” Always when he was alone, never with anyone else.

He had ignored it, held his head high, slung insults and later jinxes right back at them. Even when the curses were thrown, when he started hiding bruises and cuts underneath his robes, he pulled up those walls, a mask of cold arrogance and careless grace carved across his face.

But it was now April, and things had gotten worse. He was late again to potions, forced to wait in the hallway until the full-body curse had worn off, and had to do a double detention. On top of that, the homework hadn’t let up, and he was going to suffocate under the workload, pages and pages worth of essays due, exams to study for and spells to master. It was wearing him out, nights with no sleep and days with no relief, drowning and drowning and drowning.

He rubs his face, hard against his eyes, as he places his quill back on the page. The positioning of Saturn’s rings against the alignment of Uranus’ gravitational pull suggests that...

“Hey.” He looks up, to see Remus slide into the chair next to him. He looks adorable, messy hair, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, that soft, sweet grin pulling at his lips. Sirius gives him a tight smile, staring back down at his page. “Hey.”

Remus reaches over, sliding the parchment over. “‘Positioning of the Outer Planets and their Effects on Magic Usage?’” He looks up. “Pads, this is a 28 inch essay! And it’s due tomorrow!”

“I know.” Sirius grabs the paper. “Guess I’ll pull an all nighter. I also have the Mandrake essay to do, plus the charms worksheet.”

Remus shakes his head, waving his wand. A thick stack of notebooks appears on the table, loose papers stacked in between. “Here. I’ll help you. All my notes, plus my essays.” He frowns. “Reword everything, but close enough. I’ll help with the worksheet.”

Sirius nods, pulling Remus into a soft kiss. “Thanks. Holy crap, I love you so much.”

Remus winks. “Doesn’t count when I’m saving your ass.” He grabs the papers, dipping a quill in ink. “Now shut up. I’m trying to think.”

Sirius smiles, bending over his parchment again. The room was quiet, the only sounds being the crackle of the fireplace and Remus’ steady breathing. It was comforting, knowing that Remus was there, that Remus and him were close enough to touch. Sirius pushes the astronomy essay, reaching for the next sheet.

When they are finally finished, the sky outside is gold, streaks of rose and white across it. Remus yawns, depositing a stack of papers into Sirius’ lap. “Here. You’re welcome.”

Sirius smiles, one hand reaching up to tangle in Remus’ hair, against the soft curls and silky strands. “Thanks. So much. I can’t even - “

“It’s fine.” Remus brushes a kiss against Sirius’ lips. “I’ve got your back. You know that, right? Always.”

Sirius nods, still stroking his hair. “I know. God, I know.”

Remus frowns, pulling away enough to look Sirius in the eye. “Hey. Hey, you alright?” He wraps his arms around Sirius, Sirius relaxing into the touch. “This isn’t like you, Sirius. I mean, you’re not the most organized guy in the world, but you’re usually not this bad. What’s up? Are you okay?”

There’s a host of warring emotions inside of Sirius, the guilt fighting against the sorrow. He shakes his head, unconvincingly. “There’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“It’s okay.” Remus places his lips against Sirius’ neck, resting his head on his shoulder. “Look, Pads. You don’t have to tell me. But I know you. I know what you do when you’re hurting, and you’re hurting right now. You hide, shove all your emotions behind a wall, and you deal with all that shit internally, because that’s what you do, Pads. You suffer through it.” He pulls back, brushing Sirius’ hair out of his face. “And you don’t have to tell me. But I’m always here for you.”

The tears are flowing now, against Sirius’ face, wetting Remus’ skin. It hurts, that empty, hollow wound, stinging his soul. He takes a deep breath, feeling Remus’ arms tighten around him, as he says, “I came out to James. On the train here.”

Remus smiles. “That’s great. I mean, he already knows now, so...”

Sirius shakes his head. “No. No, it’s not that.”

Remus frowns. “Did he not take it well? He seems fine now?”

“No, he took it fine, it’s just...” Sirius closes his eyes. “Someone overheard us. Regulus, I mean. And he...told...everyone...”

Sirius glances up, into Remus’ face. It’s stony, anger flaring in his eyes, as he spits, “He did what?”

Sirius bites his lip. “He...he told everyone. All the Slytherins, at least. They all know. And they haven’t...they haven’t taken it well.”

“Oh my...” Remus stands, papers flying everywhere. Rage covers him, pouring off of him, as he swears. “Shit, Pads. Shit.”

“I-I’m so sorry, Re, please I didn’t - “

“Fuck it, Pads. No, not...not you,” he adds, at the panic that coats Sirius. “Just...” He breathes. “Those cuts...they aren’t from Quidditch, are they.”

Sirius shakes his head.

“And those bruises...” Remus paces, around the table, papers underneath his feet. “Shit, Sirius. They’re hexing you, yeah? That’s why you’re late to all these classes and...shit. Shit.”

“It’s fine,” Sirius whispers, so, so quietly. “I’ve got it. I didn’t want to burden you - “

“I will kill them.” Remus is shaking too, agony coating his face. “I will fucking kill them for touching you, how could you bear this alone, Pads?”

Sirius shakes his head. “You do it every full moon, Re. Every goddamn full moon.”

There’s raw pain on Remus’ face, raw pain on Sirius’, two sides of the same coin, as Remus breathes, “You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

Sirius just smiles. “I had James. And you.”

He winces, slightly, as Remus takes him into his arms, but all Sirius can do is breathe. Breathe, the sun rising over the mountains, holding each other as the stars disappeared.

[wrldtravler]

The Mystery of Oliver Queen & Felicity Smoak (5/5)

This is it gang!!! We’ve finally made it. It’s so bittersweet because I’ve really loved writing this and seeing all of your lovely reactions to this little story. Each and every one of you that followed along, gave a like, replied, reblogged or all of the above are amazing. Truly. I can’t wait to hear all of your thoughts for this chapter, because I have a feeling lots of you will have lots of thoughts haha. So, without further ado, the final installment. Enjoy :)

Links to previous chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

The Mystery of Oliver Queen & Felicity Smoak

Summary: It started with a series of photographs at the Met Gala. From then on, everyone became obsessed with the potential love story surrounding award-winning actor Oliver Queen and the brilliant CEO Felicity Smoak. Follow along as the media, and the world, try to put together just exactly what is going on between the secretive pair.

Chapter 5: Venice Verities

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

September 2019

A warm, refreshing breeze swept through the open window of Oliver's Venice rental. It skated across the room, caressing his face, and carrying with it a delightfully familiar scent that roused him from his deep slumber. As his other senses came to, he noticed too the wisps of hair tickling his nose which brought an instant grin to his lips.

Cracking his sleepy eyes open, the momentarily blurred sight before him only served to confirm his suspicions. But, before inevitably breaking the spell of this rare and peaceful moment by waking up, he let his eyes slide shut for just another moment. The smile he woke up with lingered on his lips as he lay there, simply breathing in and out.

Finally, the eagerness that had been slowly bubbling under the surface tugged his eyes open again. Propping himself up on his right elbow, Oliver gazed lovingly down at the owner of the loose blonde hair fanned over her very exposed back. Leaning forward, he brushed some of her hair out of the way and pressed a lingering kiss to her shoulder blade. When she didn't stir immediately, he pressed another kiss along her spine and let his fingers reverently caress her delicate skin.

Suddenly, her back expanded under his lips with her sharp inhale, which quickly faded into a hum as she rolled towards him, finally bringing her face into full view.

"When did you get here?" Oliver asked softly, unable to wipe the happy smile from his lips.

Lifting a hand, Felicity cupped his scruffy jaw. "Around three. You were dead asleep." She giggled, grinning back at him.

"Clearly." He huffed humorously. "Otherwise, this would have happened hours ago..." He purred as his lips descended on hers.

Felicity eagerly met him halfway, craning her neck to press as much of herself as she could into the kiss.

Rolling towards her, Oliver placed his other hand on the bed near her waist, pressing a little more of his weight against her. Breaking the kiss, he dipped down to drag his lips across her pulse point.

The first touch had Felicity shivering under him instantly. Looping her arms around his torso, she curled her fingers into the taught muscles of his shoulder blades and tilted her head to give him access. "Oliver, we can't..." She groaned.

"Oh." He rumbled against her skin. Though, he wasn't actually inclined to stop as he trailed the kisses down her body, lifting one hand to gently push the sheets covering her away from his intended path.

Felicity's nails dug a little deeper into his back, her body arching up to meet his kisses. "No, Oliver... I have to meet my stylists soon to start getting ready..." She whimpered.

At the mention of the reality that faced them later, Oliver finally paused. Lifting his head, he trained his somber gaze on hers. "Felicity... this is the last quiet moment we have together." He countered.

Biting her lip, she regarded him. "Do you think we're making the right decision?" She asked suddenly, cupping his cheek.

Leaning forward, Oliver pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "I do." He affirmed, brushing one of her blonde hairs out of her face. "I think we made the right choice in the beginning. It gave us a chance to get to know each other without the public having an opinion. But, I've loved you for years now and I couldn't tell anyone. I want the whole world to know that I'm crazy about you, Felicity Smoak."

The lip she still held between her teeth quivered. Blinking furiously, Felicity let out a wet laugh. "Yeah, okay..." She agreed with a smile, pressing up to brush a soft kiss over his lips. "I love you so much." She whispered against him through her smile. "Can you believe how many times we were almost busted before this though?" She laughed, dropping her head back against the pillow covering her eyes.

Oliver shared her laugh. "I still can't believe no one really put two-and-two together."

"Right?!" She agreed quickly, revealing her large eyes to him. "I mean, come on, those first rumors with the Met Gala photos should have been the nail in the coffin from the start. I just couldn't help myself, you looked so delicious in that tux with your suspenders on." She purred teasingly, brushing her hands over his bare chest.

"I remember. You showed me just how much you appreciated them later that night. Not to mention you were so stunning I couldn’t keep my eyes off you." He said lowly, dipping to press a kiss under her jaw. "Then I almost botched it when I came to see you."

This time, she slapped his chest. "Damn right! You were so eager you forgot that you didn't have a reason to be in Starling."

"Mmm I missed you, though." He hummed against her neck, brushing his nose over her skin. "We didn't leave your place for three days." He reminded with a grin.

Tilting her chin up, Felicity exposed herself to his ministrations. "And let's not forget Bali." She whispered, sliding one hand into his messy hair. "That was one hell of a vacation, though."

Righting himself just enough, Oliver brushed his nose against hers. "Worth it."

"And New York?" She asked, raising a challenging brow as she gazed at him through half-lidded eyes.

Oliver stared at her for a moment until a truly happy grin curled his lips. "The love of my life was making a big announcement about her amazing company, and I had the opportunity to be there, to support her, and watch her achieve her goals. Of course, I was going risk it." He said, dipping to capture her lips in a long kiss.

"You're such a reckless idiot sometimes." She laughed, pressing her own kiss to his lips.

Leaning back, Oliver allowed himself to really look at her. His eyes lingered over her unkempt hair, noted the beautiful rosy tint to her cheeks, admired the way her beautiful grey-blues were always brightest in the morning, and melted at the smile on her lips he knew only he was responsible for. "But I'm your reckless idiot." He teased with a wink.

Nibbling gently on her lower lip, she nodded. "And it's a good thing I'm hopelessly in love with my reckless idiot." She whispered, pulling his head down for another kiss. "Hurry up, we don’t have a lot of time now."

Oliver grinned like an idiot against her lips. "You got it, boss."

                                                          ******

The next limo pulled up and seconds later Oliver stepped out of the back door.

"Folks it's the man of the hour. Oliver Queen, who's nominated for best leading actor tonight, has just arrived." Caroline, a reporter, announced to her camera amid the flurry of camera flashes, all trained on Oliver.

Instead of heading for the press row, however, Oliver turned around and extended his hand towards the door that remained open.

The reporter paused, watching the scene unfold. "Oh my god." She breathed, the hand holding her microphone drooping slightly. "He's never brought someone to one of these things, right?" She quietly hissed to her camera man who shook his head frantically.

Jumping out of the way, the reporter urgently indicated for him to focus on Oliver as she watched with rapt attention. And, she wasn’t the only one. The camera flashes dwindled to almost nothing and the crowd murmured anxiously, transfixed by what, or whom, was about to come out of the car.

The captive crowd didn’t wait long for a slim hand curled into Oliver’s, followed closely by the rest of one Felicity Smoak, clad in a gorgeous cream lace dress.

Instantly, the cameras came alive again, nearly blinding anyone not behind one.

“Oh my god.” Caroline breathed. She turned to her camera, back to Oliver and Felicity, and then back to the camera again. “I-um, T-this is breaking news! Felicity Smoak has just arrived to the Venice Film Festival with Oliver Queen.” She announced giddily to the camera.

“Mr. Queen! Ms. Smoak!” She hailed as they made their way down the red carpet, Felicity curled closely into Oliver’s side as they smiled easily for the cameras. “Mr. Queen! Please a moment of your time!”

Somehow, over the noise of all the other reporters around her, Oliver turned his gaze towards her at her calls. Leaning down to whisper in Felicity’s ear, they made eye-contact briefly, sharing a small smile before changing direction and heading Caroline’s way.

When Caroline realized the stunning pair were actually heading for her, she panicked, mouth falling open and eyes widening as she simply stared at their welcoming, smiling faces. Which were getting closer and closer. Luckily, as soon as they were in range, she blinked back to reality. “Mr. Queen, Ms. Smoak, t-thank you for coming to speak with me. I’m Caroline Rudnicki from the Daily Planet. I promise this will be brief.” Caroline explained with an excited smile.

“Of course, Caroline, we’re more than happy to take a little bit of time for a chat.” Oliver offered, once again looking down to Felicity for confirmation.

“Absolutely.” Felicity agreed easily, sharing a look with Oliver before facing Caroline again.

Again, Caroline was momentarily star-struck by the pair, but recovered quickly. “Thank you- wait, I already said that.” She laughed nervously. Taking a deep breath, Caroline put on a composed smile. “First of all, Mr. Queen, congratulations on your nomination today. How do you feel about your chances?”

Uncurling their linked arms, Oliver moved to wrap his around Felicity’s shoulders, pulling her closer. “I feel as good as I can, considering. All of the other nominees are just as worthy of the win, if not more so!” He laughed.

“And, how are you enjoying Venice so far?”

A secretive smile curled his lips and his eyes briefly glanced at Felicity again. “Venice is always one of my favorite festivals and cities. But, this year might just be the best yet.”

Caroline was dying to ask, the words ready to spill from her tongue like a regular gossip. But, she held back – only barely, though. “And, what makes you say that?” She prompted, swinging her gaze between the cozy pair.

Tilting his head, Oliver silently passed the baton to Felicity. All it took was another silent conversation and Felicity turned her attention back to Caroline. “Because we finally get to share this moment together, as a couple.” Felicity revealed, shyly curling into Oliver a little more.

“So, it’s really true?” Caroline asked hopefully.

Oliver nodded, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of Felicity’s head. “Absolutely.” He grinned. “And, don’t tell anyone, but I’m madly in love with her.” Oliver stage-whispered, his eyes sparkling with happiness.

Leaning back a little, Felicity playfully swatted at his chest. “Oliver!” She admonished, though there was absolutely no real anger to her tone.

“What?! You know it’s true, hon.” He quipped back, his complete attention on nothing but Felicity at the moment which had Caroline feeling like an intruder.

Seconds later, Felicity’s face softened as a giddy smile curled her lips. Pushing herself onto her tiptoes, she pressed a quick kiss to Oliver’s lips. As she was pulling away, he leaned forward and stole one more kiss. “Unlike him, you’re more than welcome to tell the whole world that I’m in love with Oliver Queen.” Felicity confirmed too, slowly pulling her gaze from Oliver’s as she faced Caroline again.

At this point, Caroline had tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.” She gasped when she noticed the pair’s odd looks. “You two are just so cute.” She added, blinking rapidly and wiping at her eyes.

Oliver chuckled. “Thank you. I think so too.” He said, throwing her a friendly wink.

Clearing her throat, Caroline regained her composure. “May I ask, how long have you two been together?” She asked tentatively.

“Almost two years now.” Felicity offered without hesitation, earning a slightly surprised but happy glance from Oliver.

Caroline was about to move onto her next question but paused. Her mouth slowly dropping as the words hit her. “Wait. That long?”

“Mmhmm.” Oliver hummed with a nod. “We met through a mutual friend years ago. Felicity’s first bio-stimulus implant patient, actually.”

“And, let me tell you, it was not love at first sight.” Felicity interjected with a laugh.

Oliver laughed right along with her. “She’s right. I had to work for it. But, it was worth it... still is. Felicity is a remarkable woman, and I’m so lucky. I don’t need to tell you all that, though. The world already knows how brilliant she is.” He smiled.

Placing her hand on his chest, Felicity shared a smile with Oliver. “Thank you for remarking on it.” To which Oliver mouthed a quiet ‘you’re welcome.’

“Any other questions?” Oliver asked, turning his content gaze back to Caroline.

“N-no. Thank you, again. You two have been more than accommodating. Good luck again Mr. Queen, and best of luck with all your endeavors at Smoak Tech, Ms. Smoak. It really was a pleasure.” Caroline praised, though still slightly in awe of the whole conversation that just transpired.

“Thank you.” Felicity smiled, looping her arm back through Oliver’s to continue on their way.

“Oh! Before we go...” Oliver paused, earning a curious look from Felicity. Turning to the camera he grinned knowingly and gave a subtle wink. “If you were wondering, you were right all along.”

Tags: @tdgal1 1 @miriam1779 @almondblossomme @hope-for-olicity @memcjo @1106angel @stephswims @samwinter09 @trueromantic1 @blondeeoneexox @sadfangirl05 @artreider @olicityandklaroline @olicityotp-always @imherethephantom @omglovechrissie @soaring-cities @thespacebtwus @iamclystanieves @ma-rion-nette @coffeeaddict88

[byuneebuns]

Fenced In (Part 11)

Chanyeol/Baekhyun x Reader College AU

Rated: M for Smut

Tags: NSFW, Alcohol Use, Smut, Angst, Mild Fluff, Slow Burn, College AU

Author’s Note: Sorry about this. Also next update will be a little slower, probably two weeks-ish. I’ve got a lot of stuff going on this month but I’ll do my best.

Fenced In Mini Masterlist

“Are you sure that I look okay?” You whispered, nervously picking at your fingernails as you followed Hani up the driveway to the single family home that was your destination. You could hear the loud music and talking from outside and you were amazed that the neighbors didn’t seem to mind.

Hani glanced at you over her shoulder, smiling gently.

“You look amazing, and I’m offended that you think I would have let you come out with me looking anything less than that.” She said, reassuring you for what had to have been the tenth time since you got in the cab. 

You were beyond thankful that Chanyeol hadn’t been home to bear witness to your groaning as Hani forced you to be her dress up doll. She had clearly planned this since she’d brought several changes of clothes, for herself and for you, and an entire arsenal of makeup. You usually wore the bare minimum and should have known better than to think she would let you get away with that tonight.

You had eventually been forced into a strappy backless blood red bodycon dress and nude heels, your hair was in loose waves and you were wearing enough eyeshadow that you took comfort in the assumption that no one would be able to recognize you under it. You didn’t look bad by any means, if anything you were impressed at how nice you looked, but you didn’t feel like yourself and it was a little unnerving. You weren’t a big fan of alcohol but you were eager to get a drink and some liquid courage in your system to counteract your nerves.

When Hani opened the front door the dull roar of the party became an unbearable cacophony of sound. The bass from the music seemed to make the walls themselves vibrate. There were bodies everywhere, swaying to the beat as if possessed. Thankfully everyone seemed too absorbed in whatever they were doing to even notice more people were joining their ranks. Hani grabbed your hand to keep you from getting separated as you navigated your way through the sea of bodies towards the kitchen.

“Where’s your friend?” You shouted over the din. Hani shrugged and shook her head and continued dragging you by the hand. When you reached the kitchen the noise had subsided slightly, enough to talk comfortably. There were still altogether too many people and too much noise, but it was at least tolerable. Hani was bent over the counter, mixing unknown liquids from different bottles into cups. She turned to you, thrusting one of the cups at you. You sniffed it gingerly, wincing at how strong it smelled, and took a hesitant sip. She laughed at the sour look on your face and took a sip of her drink as well, her expression mirroring yours.

“Sorry, I’m not the best at making things taste good but at least it gets the job done right?” She said through her laughter. You rolled your eyes, smiling and taking another sip of the disgusting concoction your friend had brewed and hoping it would kick in fast so this entire situation would be slightly more bearable.

“Jongdae!! Over here!” Hani suddenly shouted at the top of her lungs, waving her free arm wildly. A boy of average height with short black hair sauntered towards you. His eyes and lips both had a natural upward curve, giving him a permanent expression of bemusement. His cheekbones were impossibly high, making him almost fox-like in appearance. He had the face of someone you couldn’t possibly dislike, friendly and open.

“Hani! Thanks for coming. Sorry for all the noise, Jongin went a little overboard.” He yelled, pulling your friend into a bone-crushing hug.

“It’s good to see you! This is my friend, the one I told you about,” Hani yelled back, gesturing to you. You smiled politely and waved, trying your best to politely introduce yourself despite the noise.

“Yah, Hani, you didn’t say your friend was so cute!” Jongdae yelled, making you sputter a little on your drink.

“She’s not cute, she’s perfect and that means she’s out of your league. Better luck next time, Jongdae.”

You laughed behind your hand as Jongdae exploded in a fit of whines and complaints. You could feel the alcohol starting to warm your body and dull your senses, just enough to make the noise level less abrasive and ebb away at your self-consciousness.

“I’m sorry, but can you tell me where to find the bathroom?” You asked, interrupting Jongdae’s latest grievance.

“Use the one upstairs!”

“I’ll go with yo-”

You raised a hand to stop Hani, shaking your head.

“I’m fine, you stay here! I’ll be right back.” You smiled, trying to reassure Hani. You wanted her to have a good time, even though you’d put up a fight to come in the first place. She nodded once and turned back to Jongdae, resuming her teasing.

You made your way back through the living room, weaving through the people dancing, finding yourself subconsciously shaking your hips as well. You drained the last of your cup, dropping it in a trash can in the corner of the room and started ascending the stairs. Your body was buzzing pleasantly from your drink and the heavy bass and you were glad that you came.

Maybe college parties aren’t the worst thing in the world, I’ll have to tell Hani that later.

You could already practically hear the excitement of her response already. She was always nagging you about going out with her more often.

The second floor was much quieter and much darker than the one beneath it, clearly intended to be off-limits to the majority of people in attendance. You were eternally grateful to Jongdae for letting you come up here, especially after seeing the absurd line for the bathroom in the main hall downstairs.

You squinted through the darkness at the hallway. Jongdae’s directions had been rather vague. There were four doors, all of them closed. You briefly admired that college students could afford to live in such a nice house and made a mental note to ask Jongdae how many roommates he had before you decided to feel envious of his living situation. You decided to start with the door at the end of the hall, straight ahead.

You stopped dead in your tracks when you heard a cry come from one of the doors on your right.

“Baekhyun!”

You inhaled sharply, suddenly feeling faint. Against your better judgement you walked up to the door, intending to press your ear to it, and found it wasn’t shut all of the way. The door swung open at your touch, revealing a very naked Baekhyun pounding in to an unknown woman he had bent across the foot of the bed. His face was beautiful as always and contorted with pleasure, one hand entwined in her hair and pulling her head back, her back arching, the other gripping her hip roughly and pulling her backwards to meet the relentless snapping of his hips. His breath was coming in short gasps and the room was filled with the lewd mingling sound of flesh on flesh, curses, and moans.

You gasped, frozen in place and unable to process what you’d stumbled across in your drunken state. You felt warmth pool between your legs, arousal mixing together with sadness and anger, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of where Baekhyun’s length was disappearing over and over. 

Now you knew why he hadn’t been texting you; he seemed a little busy.

“What the fuck? Get out, bitch.”

You continued staring, unperturbed by the woman’s outburst, mind reeling and feet rooted to where you stood. Baekhyun’s head turned towards the doorway, unaware of your presence until then, and you watched the recognition dawn on him, shock overtaking the lust painted on his features. His mouth was hanging open, unable to make sound, and his eyes were bulging.

“Are you deaf? Baekhyun, do something.” The woman whined, clenching the bed sheets with her hands and craning her neck to look at him as much as the fist he had in her hair would allow.

When he uttered your name it was like the spell holding you in place was broken and you ran at full speed, abandoning the bathroom trip altogether, taking the stairs two at a time. Your politeness was long forgotten as you shoved your way through dancing couples, biting your lip to keep the tears you felt forming at bay.

Even intoxicated you felt nothing but foolish and miserable. You barely knew Baekhyun and didn’t have any claim to him, he wasn’t your boyfriend and you had no right to be this upset and you knew that, but it was jarring to watch him with another woman nonetheless. You felt a stab of anger and betrayal as you remembered how gentle and sweet he’d been with you before you’d slept together, only to disappear before you woke up and avoid you afterwards. Maybe that was just the kind of guy he was. That had to be it.

You bit your lip harder, now caught somewhere between self-pity and rage, your emotions erratic and heightened by the alcohol.

You found Hani exactly where you’d left her, using Jongdae as a springboard for her witticisms. You tugged at the hem of her sleeve and she turned, taking in your obvious distress with concern.

“What happened to you? What’s wrong?” She asked, pulling you into her arms while Jongdae watched, confused. You choked back a dry sob, still fighting to keep from crying, and struggled to find words to describe what you’d witnessed on your excursion.

“I’ll tell you later. I know you’re an awful bartender but will you make me another drink? I have some things I’d like to forget.”

She pulled away from you, her eyes searching your face. Finally, seemingly satisfied with what she found, she nodded once and set about making you another drink. You avoided Jongdae’s stare, your original self-consciousness returning.

“I know that I don’t know you well, but if something bad happened to you in my home I’d like to know about it and make it up to you if I can.” He whispered, rubbing your back soothingly. You hadn’t even noticed that he had moved closer to you. You turned to him, mustering a smile.

“Thanks, Jongdae. It’s nothing, really. But thank you.” You whispered back, patting his shoulder. He smiled sweetly and nodded, his hand leaving your back to playfully ruffle your hair. Hani turned around, handing you a full plastic cup that somehow smelled worse than it’s predecessor but you were well beyond caring. You took a long swig, the contents burning away your feelings.

“I think I’m going to go dance.” You announced, turning to leave but stopping when Jongdae’s hand found your shoulder again.

“We’ll come with you! I can introduce you to some of my roommates if we can find them.” His smile was bright and genuine but clearly laced with worry. Hani nodded in agreement, her face strained. They each put an arm around your shoulders, guiding you to the living room turned dance floor. You froze when you saw a familiar figure descending the stairs, head swiveling in search of something.

“Oh, hey, there’s one of my roommates now. Yah, Baekhyun! Over here!” Jongdae yelled before you could stop him. Baekhyun’s eyes met yours for the second time that night and the horror from before still hadn’t left them. He hurried towards you, fighting against the people crowding the foot of the stairs.

“Hani, I have to go. I’m sorry. I’ll explain later.” was all you managed before you untangled yourself from your companions and bolted towards the front door, pulling out your phone and dialing the cab company’s phone number. You stumbled out of the door into the night, blood rushing as the phone rang. You downed the rest of your drink in one gulp, setting the empty cup on the porch.

“Come on, hurry up, please.” You muttered to yourself. Your foot was tapping the pavement impatiently and you couldn’t help nervously glancing towards the front door, unsure of who would have pursued you but that someone surely must have.

You yelped when your phone left your ear, forcibly taken from you by someone that appeared unnoticed from the shadows on your right while you’d been watching the front door. You glanced over, your terror replaced by confusion when you registered the identity of your new companion.

“Chan...yeol...?” You asked in disbelief, staring up into the face of your roommate.

“You’re crying.” He said quietly. Your hand flew to your cheek and you were astonished to find that he was right, you wondered how long you’d been crying without realizing it.

“What happened?” He asked, his voice impossibly soft. Before you could answer him the front door opened with a clatter and Baekhyun tumbled out of it, panting. Chanyeol’s expression hardened.

“Please, wait.” Baekhyun started forward but Chanyeol moved in front of you, blocking you from view.

“I’m taking her home.” He turned to you and you nodded in confirmation, refusing to meet Baekhyun’s eyes.

Chanyeol put his hand on your lower back and guided you away from Baekhyun, who surprisingly remained quiet. No one spoke until you got to the end of the long driveway.

“I’m not going to ask you to tell me what happened, not unless you want to. Is it okay for me to take you home? Did you come here alone?” Chanyeol asked, his voice gentle in stark contrast to the tone he took a moment ago.

“I want to go home. I came with my friend, she’s still inside and she knows I’m leaving. We took a cab here together.”

As if on cue your phone rang, Hani’s name flashing on the screen.

“Where are you? Are you okay? What’s going on?” Your heart twinged at the panic in her voice and you did your best to keep your voice steady and normal.

“I’m fine. I’m still outside. I ran into my roommate and he’s going to take me home. I’m really sorry but something came up and I...can’t be there anymore. I’ll pay for your cab fare to make it up to you.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Don’t sweat it. Jongdae is going to let me stay in his spare bedroom. Are you sure you’ll be okay going home with your roommate? You had a lot to drink.”

You flushed, understanding what she was implying.

“Yes, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, good. Can we meet up tomorrow and talk about everything?” You could practically hear relief oozing through the phone.

“Of course. I’m sorry again, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You said your goodbyes and turned to Chanyeol who was doing a poor job at pretending he hadn’t been eavesdropping.

“Sorry about that. You really don’t mind taking me home?”

He smiled and shook his head.

“Not at all. I didn’t want to come in the first place and this gives me the perfect excuse to leave early.” He laughed as you continued walking down the street together, stopping in front of a jet black motorcycle parked against the curb.

You looked at Chanyeol quizzically, stunned into silence when he pulled out a set of keys and started unlocking the bike.

“Have you ever ridden one before?” He asked, handing you a helmet, amused by your disbelief. You shook your head and he laughed again.

“Well I’m sorry to have to ruin your hair but this is how I got here tonight.”

“I didn’t know you rode a motorcycle.” You blurted out stupidly.

“Well it wasn’t exactly on my renter’s agreement that I had to disclose my modes of transportation to you.” He shrugged, donning his own helmet and climbing onto the front of the motorcycle. He patted the seat behind him, waiting for you to join him. You tugged at the hem of your dress, cursing how short it was.

“I don’t think modesty will really work too well. Don’t worry, no one will see. Just hold on to me as tightly as you can, okay?”

You followed his instructions, praying he couldn’t feel the lingering dampness between your legs from what you’d witnessed earlier as your short skirt slid up your thighs. You donned the heavy helmet and wrapped your arms around his torso, your breath catching at how intimate this felt when the roar of the engine startled you out of your fantasy, making you jump again.

Chanyeol turned to look at you over his shoulder and you nodded, letting him know that you were ready, and the two of you were off, flying through the starless night, the wind searing your skin as leftover tears burned your cheeks.

***

“Hey, be careful-” Chanyeol’s strong arms caught you as you tripped over your own feet trying to kick off your heels in the entrance of your shared apartment. His back hit the closed front door with a hard thump as your chest fell against his. The alcohol you’d had before leaving the party was finally catching up to you and you were unsteady on your feet. Your body felt hot and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the sudden proximity to the man you’d been trying desperately to avoid for weeks. 

His arms were circled around your hips to keep you steady and you were pressed into his broad chest, your hands resting on his stomach. You looked up at him, your cheeks flushed and your breathing heavy. He was faced away from you, staring at a spot on the ceiling, his face red.

“Chanyeol....” Your voice was breathy, it sounded like it belonged to someone else. Alcohol had emboldened you and being in his arms just felt so right. The air was thick when he finally faced you, his eyes hooded and dark. Neither of you spoke.

Your hands slowly slid up his chest, feeling his muscles tense under them, and stopped at the base of his neck where they wound in his soft hair, tugging a tortured groan from his throat. You leaned your weight against him to steady yourself as you stood on your tip toes in the heels you’d somehow kept on despite your efforts to free yourself of them until you were tall enough to press your lips to his gently. 

Fireworks were exploding in your stomach as you moved against him, one of your hands leaving his hair to roam his back and hold him closer to you. His arms tightened around your waist but stayed in place, and even though you were drunk you could tell he was holding back. 

Your tongue darted out, running along the length of his lower lip, begging for them to part- but they didn’t.

You leaned away from him, panting through your wet, swollen lips, just enough distance between the two of you so you could speak.

“Did I do something wrong...?” You whispered, burning in the heat of his gaze.

“Not like this.” His voice was hoarse and pained.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on.”

Chanyeol led you by the hand down the hall to your bedroom, setting you down on the edge of your bed, his hands on your shoulders. He knelt down and carefully released your feet from the heels you’d been wobbling on, placing them off to the side by your open closet. 

“Make sure you change before you go to bed. I’ll be back in a few minutes with some water, okay?” He said as he rubbed a few slow, soothing circles into the heel of your aching foot. You nodded and watched his retreating back before clumsily starting to peel off the skin-tight dress you were wrapped in.

You had only just barely managed to pull an oversized white t-shirt on over your bare chest and panties when Chanyeol gently knocked on your door. You called for him to come in, not missing how his eyes traveled the length of your shirt or the color rising on his face. He set a glass of ice water on your nightstand and smiled at you.

“Make sure you drink all of that or you’ll regret it tomorrow.” He said, turning to leave again. Your hand reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt to stop him. He stopped walking but didn’t turn.

“Stay?” You whispered. Your voice was pleading, You weren’t sure if he heard you but he didn’t move.

“I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.” 

“We don’t have to...just stay with me.”

He stood there a while longer, silently considering you before finally breaking the awkward silence with another sigh and walking over to the opposite side of your bed and sitting down. He patted the space next to him and suddenly you were nervous. He patted the comforter again, more insistently this time, leaning towards you to catch your eye and smile reassuringly. 

You moved towards the bed, shyly watching your feet, and climbed into it and his arms, curling into the fetal position. He held you from behind, his long arms loosely wrapped around your waist, your bodies perfectly fit together, and nuzzled your hair affectionately, his chin resting comfortably on your shoulder. His arms felt like home and a small smile played on your lips as you felt yourself slipping into dreams faster than you would have liked.

Chanyeol extracted his arm from beneath your sleeping form before it could join you in slumber, looking fondly at your peaceful face. He was mesmerized by the slow and steady rise and fall of your chest, a feeling he couldn’t name swelling in him while he watched you. He had wanted to be able to hold you like this for months, but his reverie was punctured by a loud buzzing coming from your nightstand. 

Worried the disturbance would wake you he leaned over to silence the call, freezing when he recognized the name on the caller id. His finger pressed the decline call button bitterly and he settled back into you, deeply breathing in the soft scent of your shampoo as he felt his body start to get heavier with sleep.

The vibrating started again and Chanyeol’s eyes flew open, already narrowed in annoyance this time. Once, twice, three times more he rejected the incoming calls, his temper rising dangerously with each insistent buzz. Finally, on the fourth attempt his irritability got the best of him and he answered, lifting the cell phone to his ear and opening his mouth angrily, but the person on the other end spoke first.

“Please, don’t say anything, and don’t hang up. I’m outside. Please talk to me.”

The call disconnected.

Chanyeol groaned, replacing the cell phone on the nightstand and digging his palms into his tired eyes. 

“He’s just going to keep calling.” He muttered darkly to himself, reluctantly untangling himself from you and making his way from the room. He cast a glance at where you were still curled up on the bed, oblivious to the encounter that was brewing on your doorstep. 

Chanyeol trudged to the front door, opening it and revealing a very distressed looking Baekhyun. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were bloodshot, from tears or alcohol Chanyeol was uncertain. He was, simply put, a mess.

The smaller male tensed at Chanyeol’s appearance; it was obvious he was expecting someone else.

“What do you want?” Chanyeol asked, his voice as flat as his expression. Baekhyun’s eyebrows knitted together in frustration.

“Where is she?” Baekhyun asked, ignoring Chanyeol’s query.

“Sleeping. If she wasn’t I doubt she’d want to see you anyways, so you’re wasting your time.” Chanyeol shut the door in Baekhyun’s face, feeling the smallest tinge of guilt at the look of absolute dejection on the other man’s face before it disappeared from view.

He wasn’t sure what exactly had happened between the two of you but he could put together a rough idea. He was a little disgusted by himself for how relieved he was to possibly have Baekhyun out of the picture either way. He shoved the thought from him mind, too tired and content to share your bed to allow anything to ruin it. 

He retreated back to your bedroom, stifling rogue yawns with the back of his hand, reclaiming his spot at your back and joining you in sleep, his head filled with thoughts of you. The phone didn’t buzz again and it didn’t take long for Chanyeol to fall asleep with you wrapped tightly in his grip, an actual dream come true.

[confusedgoldenflower]

AU-gust 2021 Day One: Ancient Gods… a little to the left

What a Day to be Human!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34263547

Horus/Seth. Horus | Heru/Setekh | Seth. Set in any time really, but mainly Post-Contendings seeing as neither is immediately bloodthirsty. Unrelated to my “An Aftermath Etched into Souls” (I’m working on the next chapter, I swear, writer’s block hasn’t been kind to me!)

NOTES: I feel I should put this first. NONE of this is meant to dis any subculture whatsoever-- “Kero-Len” is just Viper bullshitting also, and I neither endorse nor discourage smoking at this point but please just be aware of what you’re getting yourself--and loved ones--into if you decide to start and that no, you cannot “just stop” when you want.

Anyway. An AU of one of my OTPs but… a tad to the left, in which ancient gods awaken very much not ancient gods and then discover marshmallows. I can’t quite explain that one lol, but I hope you enjoy!

Heru awoke with the sensation he had not been able to pull up from a dive… and as though he was very, extremely ill. But oh, was opening his eyes so much worse. Colors. And figures. Everywhere. And none of them correct.

He aggressively pushed himself to sit on the bed, taking in everything around him all at once and over and over again. The images were overwhelmed in themselves and utterly disconnected from one another, and somehow not even fully attached to the wall! Even the blankets, which were very welcomingly very soft, the only welcome things in this situation, bore such images. His blanket—actually multiple blankets of varying thickness, bore mainly faces. The internal ones, the ones he was closest to when lying in the bed, at least he thought it was still… a bed? were mainly white, red and black bearing at least four distinct faces like he had never seen before. The faces bore seemingly every emotion plausible. The outer, however, was just faces with open mouths and extended tongues. They looked mostly… pleased? He had the impression it was pleasure that the characters were experiencing.

He could not spare more thought to it, so he slowly rose fully from beneath those sheets, feeling insecure in how he could feel his skin move over bones. His gaze then turned a corner where there were multiple, mainly green containers discarded, some others stacked and nearby, open containers that he somehow knew contained food once.

The shendyt, or… bastardisation thereof was also new. But he needed to find out what was happening and how to make it stop. Still, red was not an unbecoming color on him.

He managed to open the door, also overlapped with images of mainly white-skinned and long haired beauties with features to make any spouse prouder than a lion to call theirs. The clothes, still, we’re strange.

“So, good morning,” hummed a deep voice. Heru gasped despite himself and swung his head to stare at a man near him, outside of another door and wearing dark, ripped clothes with poorly painted images and in a style different to anything else he’d seen in the room he’d awakened in. Only then did he realise that there was a noise in the air, a horrible, grating noise. And it was coming from the other man.

This could be detrimental. He had no idea who even he, apparently, was now. Nor how he or this man usually interacted. He had a feeling the two did not have a good relationship, however.

“Hm,” the man cracked a smirk from beneath hair hanging directly into his face as he pulled something away from his ears. The horrible noise got louder.

“Somehow, I’m glad to see I’m not the only one stuck like this. How long since you woke up?”

Heru gaped.

“Setekh?!—what did you do!”

“Wake up, same as you I assume. Had a bit of time and intuition to figure things out—only on this body and time, though. We can read now, have you figured that out? Dejuty can suck my ass!”

Somehow, some way, this was worse than how he had originally woken up.

“What language even is this?!” He demanded finally.

“English, I guess,” Setekh responded flippantly, flicking a wrist to move the overgrown bangs. The bangs fell back into place.

“What is on your face?!”

“What? Anime boy doesn’t like my razor blade liner? I promise I didn’t use one of your katanas… this time.” Setekh teased in return. The cosmetics actually did—somehow—look really good on him.

“Oh, and by the way, apparently we’re roommates that hate each other. Mostly because I keep you up with my angst and you keep me up with your—I mean my music and you with your anime things. You’ve apparently renamed yourself Kero-Len.”

“This isn’t funny, Viper!”

“Aww, you remembered. This has to be a first. I’m so honored!”

Heru swatted at him only to get teased about this “katana” thing. Then thunk. Viper gasped and looked at the floor where the device that had covered his ears then loosely hung around his head now lay.

“If you broke them again, I’m coming after your neko headphones!”

“I don’t even know what half of this shit is!” Heru retorted, gesturing wildly.

Viper regarded him again then just sighed and shook his head. Heru wanted to slap those heat ruined bangs if his off his stupid face.

“Call this part of Isfet then, I guess. I didn’t have a part in any of this—if I did, then why would I want to deal with any of it much else you? But I am a part of Isfet so I suppose your self-righteous, Ma’at-righteous ass is just extraordinary unwilling to… not be in control at all of any of this whatsoever.” Viper shrugged and dug his hands into the pockets of his ripped jeans. Heru was not happy to hear it but he could always be angry later, but right now, he only had him with him in this mess.

“… The serpent then?”

“No,” Viper shut down nearly immediately, “already thought about that, and it’s not like it’s had any followers much less enough power to do something like this.”

“You are the greatest barrier to its goal.”

“I am not the only one and they’re not here.”

“How can you be sure?” If Sopdek or the rest of the Ennead had been put into the situation, it would be an unimaginable outcome.

“Well,” Viper began as if he was the smartest in the room. Heru ignored that he may as well be in that moment.

“It’s five pm and all of creation is still here, putting aside the many other religions. Us roommates conveniently have a group chat—which you’re usually useless in, by the way.” Viper snickered.

“This is all by way to tell me everyone else has been going on through the day as normal.”

Viper made a gesture that portended “well, duh.”

“Will you be trying to contact your mother or…?”

Heru glowered openly, “so I am to do everything then?”

The modelled brow uncovered by the bangs rose.

“I have, in since waking, compiled all of this information. We are—or at least I am only human here. I can’t feel or do anything like I’m usually accustomed to. I have tried. Nothing was accomplished. Unless they’re just being stuffy and being opposed to weed for some reason—I don’t suppose you got any incense in your room, hidden somewhere behind the little anime girls?”

Oh, that is what that feeling is, “I… am the same, and I don’t think I have anything like that.”

“I already basically ransacked the place. Nothing. Not even a spiritual roommate, go figure. Anyway. If she gets stuffy or whatever, tell me what she wants and I can ask Devon to grab it then send him a Venmo.”

A spike of anxiety shot through him. What if the others weren’t being “stuffy” at being contacted by once-Setekh-now-Viper, what if he just couldn’t reach them. Or they couldn’t listen. Or they weren’t there.

“You mentioned ‘other religions?’”

“It’s nothing new, Princey-Poo. Rise and fall. Live and die. Of course it would change over time. Monotheism has taken the lead currently but I feel like it’s gonna turn to atheism pretty soon.”

It was flippant like before but Viper’s tone held a comforting note.

“I even tried to contact myself but that didn’t work either. I was actually about to try a ‘blood sacrifice to Satan’ when I heard you woke up. Wasn’t expecting anything, so imagine my delight when you’d just looked at me like a poor little deer in headlights. Adorable. Shit, I coulda taken a picture.”

“I-ok, ok. Turn off that racket before I sacrifice you, then I’ll try. Mother shouldn’t ignore me for any reason. Dubious, I’m sure she’ll be but….” He couldn’t let his mind turn to the darkness.

Viper leaned down to snatch up his headphones, music stopping a moment thereafter.

“But I gotta stress, I am NOT entering that room. I don’t trust it.”

That got Heru’s attention enough for him to shoot a glower at the man near him. He angrily just agreed then followed a very smug Viper into the adjacent room. It was the opposite of the one he’d awoken in, as if a nightmare had been given physical form and disemboweled within the four walls. Black. Almost void looking. There were posters--the new word and concept seeming innate despite how foreign it was to him, of real people in similar clothes and makeup as Viper with large, gnarly letters spelling out the band names. Faux blood splatter on one wall, decorated more with skeletons. More band posters. A pair of pants hanging up that did not look washed in a while and tattered in a way only multiply-patched clothes can look. An electric guitar. Speakers. Chains. A lot of chains. Flowers, roses, here and there.

“Oh, you have to try these, I’ve been eating them all day!” A wrinkly bag was shoved into his chest. He looked despondently at Viper.

“You know,” Viper encouraged, “marshmallows!” He then left Heru to clutch the bag cluelessly as he settled on the airbed on the floor with one in his hand and a lighter in the other. The lighter was lit and the marshmallow held in the flame by lanky fingers.

“That’s fire,” was all he managed to say. Viper ignored him, continuing to maneuver the marshmallow and the flame. The thing caught on fire with a sizzling blackness. To his horror, Viper continued to rotate it until it was more charcoal than anything then, and only then, did he blow it out. Blew on it a couple more times. Then popped it into his mouth!

“Ah, jus’ like synonym used to make!” Viper mumbled and giggled. Heru understood it as a joke, though not one he ever understood well.

“Well?” Vipper aggressively patted the space next to him on the foot of his saggy bed. Heru sat down and almost dazedly pulled a white, squashed cylinder out of the bag and put it into his mouth. He liked the gowey-ness, not so much--oh, wait, that was good!

“Even better toasted!” Viper chirped.

Slowly, he offered the bag back to him. Viper quickly set to toasting another one.

“What’s this ‘katana’ shit you keep talking about?”

Viper visibly glitched, “bro!” He drawled and sat back in a distressed, disbelieving sort of display.

“You only have, like, ten. And named each one of ‘em too but hey, each to their own, right.”

“But with the eyeliner--,” then he somehow saw himself looking for, buying, unboxing and naming each eastern sword, “nevermind.”

“There it is!” Viper remarked, and handed over a crispy marshmallow, “it gets sticky easy too so be careful--in case you haven’t remembered that part yet.”

He glowered again but then didn’t exactly want to handle the thing… but it did smell so, so good over the scent of burning Viper flesh. Idiot probably lost all feeling in those two fingers by then. Dumbass.

Everything’s already so messed up so… “ah, fuck it.” He didn’t bother with his hands and just took it from Viper with his mouth. The other seemed as thrilled as he was by the choked sound that left him, but he couldn’t bring himself to notice because the crisp, warm, gowey-ness was so much better than just gowey-ness.

He looked back to the flame-wielder in expectation of more. For a moment they just stared at one another.

“Well, shit!” Viper mumbled as he snatched the back back. An almost empty bag.

“Please tell me there’s more.”

Viper’s shoulders sagged, “no and Devon refuses to stop just for marshmallows! The humanity of it all!” He lamented though not as dramatically as he probably would have if he wasn’t currently handling fire.

“What if I ask too?”

“Won’t help.”

“Oh, but Devon’ll go out for incense and his special fucking Jule? I see how it is.”

Viper snickered and quoted in a silly voice, “‘well, watermelon flavor is just superior, you know. I don’t know why I have to keep telling you.’”

Heru giggled, “oh, great Watermelon Lord, would’st thou’st bestow unto me, ye humble servant, but a scrap-nay a crumb, of thou’st’s good will!”

Viper laughed around the freshly singed marshmallow in his mouth as he fished around for another. He shoulder checked Heru which somehow only made him laugh harder. Neither laughing boy managed to finish cooking that one marshmallow.

I'm an outsider looking in on those two subcultures so if I got something wrong, please do correct. Again, none of it is meant to be derogatory.

Heru says none of the anime paraphernalia is "correct" because it's distinctly NOT what he's used to and so, therefore, incorrect in where (and when) he should be. If you woke up in a strange place and time, you'd be judgmental too. The spousal mention thing is because, well, just look at ancient Aphrodite artifacts, some features are and have been considered more fertile which was very important in the ancient world/beliefs. So it'd make sense he'd look at some of that and go, "fair... fair."--Not trying to open up an argument, just saying! I'm personally tired of all the sexualization in anime but, "hey, each to their own, right."

Meanwhile, Setekh was having a good time just blowing out his ear drums and chilling, mostly. Y'know, in between trying to talk to someone and figuring out what the hell had just happened to him (and as he later learns, them)--oh, yeah, and that nap he took at some point. But he's digging the aesthetic and the music. XD

Heru: oh my mother, where am I, what happened?! Meanwhile Setekh: *head-banging on the other side of the wall*

I just-- XD

Devon's got the LED TikTok lights in case anyone's wondering....

[crimsonrevolt]

Congratulations Cas you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Rita Skeeter!

↳ please refer to our character checklist

It’s always so intriguing to me whenever someone wants to explore the complexities of a character that might’ve been presented as one-sided in the original books, and Rita definitely deserves further exploration! From your application, it’s so clear that you see her as an entirely dynamic character, and we can’t wait to see you explore those sides to her that weren’t explored before and to develop her as an ambitious and ruthless reporter during a time of war! It’ll also be intriguing to see her in this non-canon setting, and to see how she deals with everything that’s going on in the plot drops! Welcome to the rp! 

application beneath the cut

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

Cas, 20, he/him or they/them, EST.  

ACTIVITY

Not sure what number this would be, but I plan to be online at LEAST once a day. So maybe a 7/10?

TRIGGERS

*removed for privacy

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

In the tag “hp rp”.

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

Definitely Remus Lupin, and I also loved Gilderoy Lockhart. I probably would’ve gone for Gilderoy if he’d been available </3

ANYTHING ELSE?

Nope!

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

Rita Skeeter.

FACE CLAIM

Carlson Young.

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

I’ve been rereading the Harry Potter books lately and I’ve definitely been more drawn to Rita than I have been in previous reads. I think her character is really interesting and I would like to explore her in this setting where she was still making a name for herself. I think she’s really an intelligent character but with obvious flaws which is what makes her so dynamic.

Rita is ruthless, which I think is something hinted at in the book but not fully explored. Her determination to express the stories she wants to tell makes her almost Slytherin-worthy in her ambition. Her cleverness is quite understated, I think; the ability to illegally become an Animagus without anybody finding out for years is a quality that has drawn me to her immensely.

I also think it’s really fascinating for her to be listed as a Death Eater in this RP. Though it’s common knowledge that she reported on Death Eater trials during the first wizarding war I’m really invested in exploring her involvement in Death Eater movements before this happened, and being able to hide the fact that she’s more on Voldemort’s side. I’m excited to use her mobility as a reporter to be able to interact with characters of all sides.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

Rita views people as opportunities, not emotional investments. Although, if she were to become romantically involved in anyone, I don’t believe she would have a preference gender-wise. She finds attractive qualities in everyone. She identifies as a cis woman and uses she/her pronouns.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

A FEW POTENTIAL PLOT POINTS

A Quill Too Far: Rita writes an article regarding something or someone that goes too far and she receives unexpected backlash. I’d like to see her experience consequences for her reporting and see how it affects (or doesn’t affect) her approach to journalism afterward.

Discovered Disguise: Even though as far as we know canonically nobody discovers Rita’s secret of being an Animagus until Hermione does in the fourth book, I would like it if at some point this information is revealed to one other character, probably by accident. (However, this character would have to keep the secret so that the canon remains the same.)

Queen of the Quills: This is a pretty standard plot, but it would be fun to have Rita work with another or multiple characters to create an article about current plot drops. It would be interesting to explore her dynamic when working with (or for) others, instead of her just going around on her own writing articles by listening all the time.

I’ve also made a Pinterest board for Rita! Link: https://pin.it/toghec5jy4mewg

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it: “Well, there are very few spells that need inventing, not when you have the power of words on your side… But oh, if I must, perhaps I’d invent something that would make people unable to stop reading my work once they start, until they’ve finished it all the way through. Of course, my readers are so invested that this is usually the case, anyway….”

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you: “Can’t go anywhere without my camera man! Yes, he’d have to come along… Just in case we come across anything newsworthy. As for an object, I suppose my Quick-Quotes Quill will do.”

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make? “There are no decisions, only actions! And no action is difficult to make if you’re as intelligent a woman as I. If you are not first to act, then you will be at the mercy of those who acted before you.”

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you? “The only thing no one should dare say about me is that I’m lazy. Laziness should be a classified sin––You’ll never get anywhere in life if you don’t get on your feet!”

WRITING SAMPLE

Rita side-stepped into the narrow hallway of her home, a tiny apartment nestled so tightly between two larger houses in Muggle London that it was easy to pass by if you weren’t looking closely enough. A flick of her wand slammed the door shut behind her, plunging the corridor into darkness. Another flick and a pinprick of light sprung to the tip of her wand, illuminating the bare walls around her.

She squeezed through the foyer into the small, one room apartment. All that the room held was a cot, a desk with a typewriter and a comfortable chair, a tiny kitchen (which was really just a refrigerator, and one square foot of counter space), and numerous suitcases that lay scattered under the bed and against the walls.

Rita dropped her still-lit wand and dragon-hide handbag carelessly on the desk, removed her frilly coat and draped it over the bedspread. Despite the cramped nature of the space, it was impeccably clean, especially considering it was uninhabited most of the time. Rita spent most of her hours outside, watching, investigating, and taking notes. It was never good to stay in one place for too long these days. Now, she sat at the small desk and popped open her handbag, pulling out her notes from the day and shuffling them idly. Her eyes were pensive, focused; this was the way she usually got before she sat to write her big stories. During the investigative process, she was alive, and bright-eyed. When she was writing on her own afterwards, she was far more subdued.

Placing a loose sheet of paper in the typewriter, she scanned her notes intently and began to dictate. “You-Know-Who’s ‘Death Eaters’––Cruel Wrongdoers or Misunderstood Victims?” she said, and the typewriter magically typed out her words as they left her lips.

She was quite proud of her research on this article. Rita had pursued every possible thread in order to portray the Death Eaters as hopelessly misunderstood puppets of He Who Must Not Be Named. It was no easy task, after everything that had happened since the beginning of the war. Many people suspected certain wizards of following the Dark Lord; it was Rita’s job to find holes in their reasoning and excuses for why it would not be their faults.

Though she would likely be thanked for her work, Rita was conscious of how it would make her look to be excusing Death Eaters of their crimes. Her next article, she thought, would have to be supportive of the Order or the Ministry or some other facet of the resistance that was, in her opinion, horribly failing.

She gazed at her typewriter, which was idling patiently with a vacant hum as it awaited her next words. Dragging her mind away from the subject of her own potential incarceration, she took a deep breath and continued to recite her next big story.

[imfrozentrash]

Hansanna One-Shot: “I Realized Too Late”

Author’s Note: Inspired by Beauty & The Beast’s “Evermore.” I didn’t know I needed to write this until now.

A twist to the original plot. Prince Hans is almost victorious in ruling Arendelle. His ego overtakes him as dignitaries flock to him for leadership. Everything is going according to plan until his lost Princess rushes in, shivering from the burning ice. What will happen when Prince Hans realizes Anna’s love too late?

“Thank you, Prince Hans. You have helped us in more ways than one,”

“You are a true leader of Arendelle,”

“The citizens are in your debt for your guidance through this unfortunate Winter,”

I’ve got them wrapped around my finger… "Please, all things are going accordingly thanks to everyone’s camaraderie. I don’t know what I would do without everyone here,“ I bow humbly, hand over my cold, cruel heart. I raise my head and see everyone at ease. "I just wish Princess Anna is alright, wherever she may be. I worry about her,”

As if on cue, the lost Princess is found. Kai comes in with Anna inside, snowflakes decorated on her face and hands. What the hell happened?

“Anna!” I cry, coming to her side.

“Hans, you need to kiss me! Now!” the young Princess grips onto my jacket. Taken back from her sudden eagerness, I look around in confusion.

“We’ll leave you two alone,” Kai announces and everyone is escorted out of the room.

“Hans…” she sighs and goes limp.

“Anna!” without a second thought, I carry her near the fire on the couch. “What happened?” I sit there, taking in everything. Why would you go to your older sibling, when she obviously doesn’t care about you? You fool…

“Why?” I look up and see Anna stare in confusion. Accidentally, I let my thoughts slip out of my head. Keeping calm, I decide to roll with it. “Why would you go to her?”

“Hans,” she chuckles, smiling. “She’s my sister,”

“But she shut you out. By now, wouldn’t it be obvious that she wants nothing to do with you anymore? And because of your persistence, you got hurt,” Sibling love? Is there such a thing? Anna slowly sits up and stares into my emptiness. To my surprise, she caresses my face. I shiver at her cold touch, not knowing what she is intending. Yet, I do not stop her.

“I know I got hurt, Hans. But I did it for my sister,” I shake my head, not understanding. Anna then laughs in pity. “I am willing to climb the coldest of mountains, traveling sleepless distances, just to see Elsa again,”

“You would?” I ask in disbelief.

“Of course. No doubt, she shut me out for as long as I can remember. But the bond we share with each other is something I can never forget. We are sisters. We are family. I love her, Hans. I can’t lose her to her own demons. She needs me more than ever,”

I could not believe my ears. For the first time, I’ve seen Anna’s passionate nature towards her sister. Aside from playful and innocent, Anna is determined to help her. Despite all things she went through, all the hell Elsa put her through, Anna still believes in her. That’s something I’ve never experienced with my brothers before… My heartbeat rises at the overwhelming emotions the flood inside me for the first time.

Suddenly, all my true intentions are forgotten. I am flooding with new emotions that I never dared to feel. It’s all nonsense, yet I do not fight against them.

“So now, only an act of true love can save me,” she pleads.

“A true love’s kiss,” Everything I have worked so hard for; to please my father, to prove myself against my brothers, to rule Arendelle, suddenly disappears. What has come over me? Anna… With a sigh of defeat, I caress her face and sadly smile. I’m sorry. I lean in and flutter my eyes shut, closing the gap between us. Her lips are as cold as my lonely heart, but I kiss back earnestly. I’m such a fool. How could I have let this all happen? Damn you, Hans. I pull back and watch when she sits there awestruck. I chuckle as I tuck away a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I-I didn’t know you could kiss like that,” Anna blushes. I laugh at her innocence.

When I admire her beauty, I stare in disbelief when she turns bright silver and her face morphs into a transparency like ice.

“Hans!” Anna panics, looking down at herself as she grows colder.

“It didn’t work,” I bite back my vulnerability. “Anna, I’m so sorry,” my voice is caught in my throat knowing that I couldn’t save her. “What should we do?” Anna looks around, somehow looking for an answer. Then she turns towards the window and stares out at the storm.

“I need to find her,”

“What? Anna, you’ll die out there!”

“I need to go to Elsa. She’ll know what to do,” Anna forces herself to stand, but almost collapses to the carpet.

“Anna!” I cry out, supporting her. “Enough, you need to rest. You can’t go out there,” I carry her again just to lay her back down. “You’re not thinking this through, you need to just lie down and take it easy,” I hurriedly grab a bundle of blankets from the near closet. I lay them over the cold Princess but witnesses the sheets slowly freeze in her touch. “I’ll keep the fire burning,” Anxiously, I throw more wood into the fire and move them accordingly with the flames.

“Hans,” she sighs.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” I hurry behind the couch and push it closer to the fireplace as I fight through the frost bite from Anna’s spell. It burns like hell through my gloves, but I push forward.

“Hans, stop this! I need to find Elsa,”

“No!” I stubbornly protest. I try everything in my power to keep her warm. I sit at the edge of the couch and undress my jacket, placing it around her shoulders. But Anna looks up at me hopelessly, shivering more than ever.

“It’s no use,” she smiles as tears fill her eyes. My heart breaks at what I’m witnessing. Anna, hopelessly drifting away to her sister’s curse, wishing she could go to the source of her frozen misery.

“You really love her, don’t you?” I ask, still unable to comprehend it all. She smiles still, tears streaming down her cold face. “I never knew such a thing could exist. Until I’ve met you, my Anna,” I take hold of her ice cold hand and try to warm it with my own coldness. “All I’ve known is hatred and loneliness. But love does exist. I’ve learned that too late. I couldn’t even save you,” I chuckle at my own pity with bitterness.

Every time I stare at Anna, she’s freezing away with each passing minute. And it’s all my fault; my stubborn, bitterness self is because she’s dying.

“It will be okay, Hans,” I look over and she’s smiling. “I’ll be fine,”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I push away the blankets and stomp over to the door.

“Hans? Where are you-”

“Guards!” I call out, opening the doors. “Guards! Prepare my horse! Assemble an escort for us at the entrance of the castle! Now!”

“Yes, sir!” by command, they all march out to the stables.

“Hans?” I walk back into the room and push back the couch, away from the fire. “What’s going on?” I fight back tears as I wrap a thick blanket around Anna’s shoulders, along with my uniform jacket.

“Prince Hans!” the dignitaries rush inside. “Everything is assembled!”

“Thank you,” I nod and turn back to Anna. “Go to her Anna,”

“What?” she asks, as I help her stand. We all lead out to the entrance of the castle where Sitron is waiting along with the royal guard and their horses.

“We’re going to find Elsa, together. We’ll find her,” I smile with confidence. Her worried expression morphs into overwhelming happiness and hugs me tight. I grip onto her, knowing the dangers we face ahead.

I carefully hoist Anna onto Sitron, holding them both steady. But before I could climb onto my horse’s back, Kai stops me.

“Prince Hans! You must stay behind!” I turn around and see everyone with worry. “You are all Arendelle has left if Princess Anna…” Kai drifts off, knowing well the consequences of me going with her.

“Princess Anna needs me,” I explain firmly. “I need to go with-”

“No, you don’t Hans,” I turn back and look up at Anna in hurt. “Kai’s right. You need to stay,”

“Anna, I’m not losing you again,” I fight back tears, walking closer to her. The moments of Anna leaving me in charge and going up the North Mountain all alone replay in the back of my mind. “I almost lost you. I’m not doing that again, do you hear me?”

“Don’t worry,” Anna smiles through her visible pain. “I need to go find Elsa,” I look around for the first time feeling hopelessly lost and torn on what to do. Damn it!

“Sir, we need to hurry,” the head of the royal guard announces. “Before it’s too late,”

“Hans, I’ll be back,” she assures me with her love and warmth. “I promise,” knowing all too well her promise will be broken, I turn towards the royal guard.

“Bring her back at all costs,” I demand. “Bring them both back. You are all serving Arendelle and you are to be sure no harm comes to them,”

“Yes, sir!” the sound off in unison.

“Then get going,” not able to look, I turn back into the castle. I hear the cry of the horses and their hooves grow more distant until it completely vanishes into the rough cries of the Winter storm.

“Prince Hans?”

“Please, give me a moment to myself. Make sure everyone in the hall is attended to,” without turning towards the castle staff, I sprint down the lonely halls. Tears stream down my face the faster I ran, blurring my vision.

I run into the room of where I once came and slam the door behind me with great force. I curse out loud as I punch the walls in frustration, indenting the decorated designs. As I catch my breath from the sudden adrenaline, I find myself standing near the large window. Outside is an uninviting storm of white, that will engulf anyone who is near. And Anna is out there.

I let this happen. I sent Anna to her death. She runs away as she continues to torment me with a love I have never felt before. I squeeze my eyes tightly, trying to erase her dying image from my memory. Yet, she is there. Smiling. Awestruck. Full of life than ever before. Anna has stolen my lonely heart; the one I thought no one could ever touch, including myself. I place my lone gloved hand on the glass, knowing she out there, somewhere. I cry to myself also knowing that she may never come back.

Please come back to me, my Anna. My dear, Princess Anna… I’ll never stop waiting for you.

Thanks for reading! ♡

I also have an archive of Frozen Fanfiction. If you want to check it out, here it is! imfrozentrash’s fanfiction archive ♡

[lesbianrewrites]

The Martian Chapter 13

*disclaimer* This is a project done for fun, and none of these characters/works belong to me. I do not claim to own any of the material on this page.

This is a Lesbian edit of The Martian by Andy Weir.

Chapters will be posted every day at 2pm EST.

Google doc version can be found here. The chapter can also be found under the cut. Enjoy!

CHAPTER XIII

The employees of Deyo Plastics worked double shifts. There was talk of triple shifts if NASA increased the order again. No one minded. The overtime pay was spectacular and the funding was limitless. Woven carbon thread ran slowly through the press, which sandwiched it between polymer sheets. The completed material was folded four times and glued together. The resulting thick sheet was then coated with soft resin, and taken to the hot-room to set.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 114 Now that NASA can talk to me, they won’t shut the hell up. They want constant updates on every Hab system, and they’ve got a room full of people trying to micromanage my crops. It’s awesome to have a bunch of dipshits on Earth telling me, a botanist, how to grow plants. I mostly ignore them. I don’t want to come off as arrogant here, but I’m the best botanist on the planet. One big bonus: Email! Just like the days back on Hermes, I get data dumps. Of course they relay email from friends and family, but NASA also sends along choice messages from the public. I’ve gotten email from rock stars, athletes, actors and actresses, and even the President. The coolest one is from my alma-mater, the University of Chicago. They say once you grow crops somewhere, you have officially “colonized” it. So technically, I colonized Mars. In your face, Neil Armstrong! I go to the rover five times a day to check mail. They can get a message from Earth to Mars, but they can’t get it another 10 meters to the Hab. But hey, I can’t bitch. My odds of living through this are way higher now. Last I heard, they solved the weight problem on Ares 4’s MDV. Once it lands here, they’ll ditch the heat shield, all the life support stuff, and a bunch of empty fuel tanks. Then they can take the seven of us (Ares 4’s crew plus me) all the way to Schiaparelli. They’re already working on my duties for the surface ops. How cool is that? In other news, I’m learning Morse Code. Why? Because it’s our back-up communication system. NASA figured a decades-old probe isn’t ideal as a sole means of communication. If Pathfinder craps out, I’ll spell messages with rocks, which NASA will see with satellites. They can’t reply, but at least we’d have one-way communication. Why Morse Code? Because making dots and dashes with rocks is a lot easier than making letters. It’s a shitty way to communicate. Hopefully it won’t come up.

All chemical reactions complete, the sheet was sterilized and moved to a cleanroom. There, a worker cut a strip off the edge. Dividing the strip in to squares, he put each through a series of rigorous tests. Having passed inspection, the sheet was then cut to shape. The edges were folded over, sewn, and resealed with resin. A man with a clipboard made final inspections, independently verifying the measurements, then approved it for use.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 115 The meddling botanists have grudgingly admitted I did a good job. They agree I’ll have enough food to last till Sol 900. Bearing that in mind, NASA has fleshed out the mission details of the supply probe. At first, they were working on a desperate plan to get a probe here before Sol 400. But I bought another 500 sols of life with my potato farm so they have more time to work on it. They’ll launch next year during the Hohmann Transfer Window, and it’ll take almost 9 months to get here. It should arrive around Sol 856. It’ll have plenty of food, a spare Oxygenator, Water Reclaimer, and comm system. Three comm systems, actually. I guess they aren’t taking any chances, what with my habit of being nearby when radios break. Got my first email from Hermes today. NASA’s been limiting direct contact. I guess they’re afraid I’ll say something like “You abandoned me on Mars you fuckwits!” I know the crew is surprised to hear from the Ghost of Mars Missions Past, but c’mon. I wish NASA was less of a nanny sometimes. Anyway, they finally let one email through from Martinez: Dear Watney: Sorry we left you behind, but we don't like you. You're sort of a smart-ass. And it's a lot roomier on Hermes without you. We have to take turns doing your tasks, but it's only botany (not real science) so it's easy. How's Mars? -Martinez My reply: Dear Martinez: Mars is fine. When I get lonely I think of that steamy night I spent with your mom. How are things on Hermes? Cramped and claustrophobic? Yesterday I went outside and looked at the vast horizons. I tell ya, Martinez, they go on forever! -Watney

The employees carefully folded the sheet, and placed it in an argon-filled airtight shipping container. Printing out a sticker, the man with the clipboard placed it on the package. “Project Ares-3; Hab Canvas; Sheet AL102.” The package was placed on a charter plane and flown to Edwards Air Force Base in California. It flew abnormally high, at great cost of fuel, to ensure a smoother flight. Upon arrival, the package was carefully transported by special convoy to Pasadena. Once there, it was moved to the JPL White Room for probe assembly. Over the next 5 weeks, engineers in white bodysuits assembled Presupply 309. It contained AL102 as well as 12 other Hab Canvas packages.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 116 It’s almost time for the second harvest. Ayup. I wish I had a straw hat and some suspenders. My re-seed of the potatoes went well. I'm beginning to see that crops on Mars are extremely prolific, thanks to the billions of dollars worth of life support equipment around me. I now have 400 healthy potato plants, each one making lots of calorie-filled taters for my dining enjoyment. In just ten days they’ll be ripe! And this time, I’m not replanting them as seed. This is my food supply. All natural, organic, Martian-grown potatoes. Don’t hear that every day, do you? You may be wondering how I’ll store them. I can’t just pile them up; most of them would go bad before I got around to eating them. So instead, I’ll do something that wouldn’t work at all on Earth: Throw them outside. Most of the water will be sucked out by the near-vacuum; what’s left will freeze solid. Any bacteria planning to rot my taters will die screaming. In other news, I got email from Venkat Kapoor: Maia, some answers to your earlier questions: No, we will not tell our Botany Team to “Go fuck themselves.” I understand you’ve been on your own for a long time, but we’re in the loop now, and it’s best if you listen to what we have to say. The Cubs finished the season at the bottom of the NL Central. The data transfer rate just isn’t good enough for the size of music files, even in compressed formats. So your request for “Anything, oh god ANYTHING but Disco” is denied. Enjoy your boogie fever. Also, an uncomfortable side note... NASA is putting together a committee. They want to see if there were any avoidable mistakes that led you to being stranded. Just a heads-up. They may have questions for you later on. Keep us posted on your activities. -Kapoor My reply: Venkat, tell the investigation committee they’ll have to do their witch-hunt without me. And when they inevitably blame Commander Lewis, be advised I’ll publicly refute it. -Watney

The presupply probes for Ares-3 launched on 14 consecutive days during the Hohmann Transfer window. Presupply 309 was launched third. The 251 day trip to Mars was uneventful, needing only two minor course adjustments. After several aerobraking maneuvers to slow down, it made its final descent toward Acidalia Planitia. First, it endured reentry via a heat shield. Later, it released a parachute and detached the now expended shield. Once its onboard radar detected it was 30 meters from the ground, it cut loose the parachute and inflated balloons all around its hull. It fell unceremoniously to the surface, bouncing and rolling, until it finally came to rest. Deflating its balloons, the onboard computer reported the successful landing back to Earth.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 117 The Water Reclaimer is acting up. Six people will go through 18 liters of water per day. So it’s made to process 20. But lately, it hasn’t been keeping up. It’s doing 10, tops. Do I generate 10 liters of water per day? No, I’m not the urinating champion of all time. It’s the crops. The humidity inside the Hab is a lot higher than it was designed for, so the Water Reclaimer is constantly filtering it out of the air. I’m not worried about it. Water is water. The plants use it, I use it. If need be, I can piss on the plants directly. It’ll evaporate and condense on the walls. I could make something to collect it, I’m sure. Thing is, the water can’t go anywhere. It’s a closed system. Plus, I made like 600 liters from MDV fuel (remember the “explosive Hab” incident?). I could take baths and still have plenty left over. NASA, however, is absolutely shitting itself. They see the Water Reclaimer as a critical survival element. There’s no backup, and they think I’ll die instantly without it. To them, equipment failure is terrifying. To me, it’s “Tuesday.” So instead of preparing for my harvest, I have to make extra trips to and from the rover to answer their questions. Each new message instructs me to try some new solution and report the results back. So far we’ve worked out it’s not the electronics, refrigeration system, instrumentation, or temperature. I’m sure it’ll turn out to be a little hole somewhere, then NASA will have 4 hours of meetings before telling me to cover it with duct tape.

Lewis and Beck opened Presupply 309. Working as best they could in their bulky EVA suits, they removed the various portions of Hab canvas and lay them on the ground. Three entire presupply probes were dedicated to the Hab. Following a procedure they had practiced hundreds of times, they efficiently assembled the pieces. Special seal-strips between the patches ensured air-tight mating. After erecting the main structure of the Hab, they assembled the three airlocks. Sheet AL102 had a hole perfectly sized for Airlock 1. Beck  stretched the sheet tight to the seal-strips on the airlock’s exterior. Once all airlocks were in place, Lewis flooded the Hab with air and AL102 felt pressure for the first time. They waited an hour. No pressure was lost; the setup had been perfect.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 118 My conversation with NASA about the Water Reclaimer was boring and riddled with technical details. So I’ll paraphrase it for you: Me: “This is obviously a clog. How about I take the it apart and check the internal tubing?” NASA: (After 5 hours of deliberation) “No. You’ll fuck it up and die.” So I took it apart. Yeah, I know. NASA has a lot of ultra-smart people and I should really do what they say. And I’m being too adversarial, considering they spend all day working on how to save my life. I just get sick of being told how to wipe my ass. Independence was one of the things they looked for when choosing Ares astronauts. It’s a 13-month mission, most of it spent many light-minutes away from Earth. They wanted people who would act on their own initiative, but at the same time, obey their Commander. If Commander Lewis were here, I’d do whatever she said, no problem. But a committee of faceless bureaucrats back on Earth? Sorry, I’m just having a tough time with it. I was really careful. I labeled every piece as I dismantled it, and laid everything out on a table. I have the schematics in the computer, so nothing was a surprise. And just as I’d suspected, there was a clogged tube. The Water Reclaimer was designed to purify urine and strain humidity out of the air (you exhale almost as much water as you piss). I’ve mixed my water with soil, making it mineral water. The minerals built up in the Water Reclaimer. I cleaned out the tubing and put it all back together. It completely solved the problem. I’ll have to do it again some day, but not for 100 sols or so. No big deal. I told NASA what I did. Our (paraphrased) conversation was: Me: “I took it apart, found the problem, and fixed it.” NASA: “Dick.”

AL102 shuddered in the brutal storm. Withstanding forces and pressure far greater than its design, it rippled violently against the airlock seal-strip. Other sections of canvas undulated along their seal-strips together, acting as a single sheet, but AL102 had no such luxury. The airlock barely moved, leaving AL102 to take the full force of the tempest. The layers of plastic, constantly bending, heated the resin from pure friction. The new, more yielding environment allowed the carbon fibers to separate. AL102 stretched. Not much. Only 4 millimeters. But the carbon fibers, usually 500 microns apart, now had a gap eight times that width in their midst. After the storm abated, the lone remaining astronaut performed a full inspection of the Hab. But she didn’t notice anything amiss. The weak part of canvas was concealed by a seal-strip. Designed for a mission of 31 sols, AL102 continued well past its planned expiration. Sol after sol went by, with the lone astronaut traveling in and out of the Hab almost daily. Airlock 1 was closest to the rover charging station, so the astronaut preferred it to the other two. When pressurized, the airlock expanded slightly; when depressurized, it shrunk. Every time the astronaut used the airlock, the strain on AL102 relaxed, then tightened anew. Pulling, stressing, weakening, stretching…

LOG ENTRY: SOL 119 I woke up last night to the Hab shaking. The medium-grade sandstorm ended as suddenly as it began. It was only a category 3 storm with 50kph winds. Nothing to worry about. Still, it’s bit disconcerting to hear howling winds when you’re used to utter silence. I’m worried about Pathfinder. If the sandstorm damaged it, I’ll have lost my connection to NASA. Logically, I shouldn’t worry. The thing’s been on the surface for decades. A little gale won’t do any harm. When I head outside, I’ll confirm Pathfinder’s still functional before moving on to the sweaty, annoying work of the day. Yes, with each sandstorm comes the inevitable Cleaning of the Solar Cells. A time honored tradition by hearty Martians such as myself. It reminds me of growing up in Chicago and having to shovel snow. I’ll give my dad credit; he never claimed it was to build character or teach me the value of hard work. “Snow-blowers are expensive,” he used to say. “You’re free.” Once, I tried to appeal to my mom. “Don’t be such a wuss,” She suggested. In other news, It’s seven sols till the harvest, and I still haven’t prepared. For starters, I need to make a hoe. Also, I need to make an outdoor shed for the potatoes. I can’t just pile them up outside. The next major storm would cause The Great Martian Potato Migration. Anyway, all that will have to wait. I’ve got a full day today. After cleaning the solar cells, I have to check the whole solar array make sure the storm didn’t hurt it. Then I’ll need to do the same for the rover. I better get started.

Airlock 1 slowly depressurized to 1/90th of an atmosphere. Watney, donning an EVA suit, waited for it to complete. She had done it literally hundreds of times. Any apprehension she may have had on Sol 1 was long gone. Now it was merely a boring chore before exiting to the surface. As the depressurization continued, the Hab’s atmosphere compressed the airlock and AL102 stretched for the last time. On Sol 119, the Hab breached. The initial tear was less than 1 millimeter. The perpendicular carbon fibers should have prevented the rip from growing. But countless abuses had stretched the vertical fibers apart and weakened the horizontal ones beyond use. The full force of the Hab’s atmosphere rushed through the breach. Within a tenth of a second, the rip was a meter long, running parallel to the seal-strip. It propagated all the way around until it met its starting point. The airlock was no longer attached to the Hab. The unopposed pressure violently launched the airlock like a cannonball as the Hab exploded. Inside, the surprised Watney slammed against the airlock’s back door with the force of the expulsion. The airlock flew 40 meters before hitting the ground. Watney, barely recovered from the earlier shock, now endured another as she hit the front door, face first. Her faceplate took the brunt of the blow, the safety glass shattering into hundreds of small cubes. Her head slammed against the inside of the helmet, knocking her senseless. The airlock tumbled across the surface for a further 15 meters. The heavy padding of Watney’s suit saved her from many broken bones. She tried to make sense of the situation, but was barely conscious. Finally done tumbling, the airlock rested on its side amid a cloud of dust. Watney, on her back, stared blankly upward through the hole in her shattered faceplate. A gash in her forehead trickled blood down her face. Regaining some of her wits, she got her bearings. Turning her head to the side, she looked through the back door’s window. The collapsed Hab rippled in the distance, a junkyard of debris strewn across the landscape in front of it. Then, a hissing sound reached her ears. Listening carefully, she realized it was not coming from her suit. Somewhere in the phone-booth sized airlock, a small breach was letting air escape. She listened intently to the hiss. Then she touched her broken faceplate. Then she looked out the window again. “You fucking kidding me?” She said.

[ryanthedirector-blog]

To Prioritize Needy News

1.  Purple Hibiscus 2.  Counterfeit 3.  Trust everyone 4.  Delusional ( Like you haven't) 5.  Product 6.  Jordan 7.  None of your business 8.  Double standards 9.  Commercialized, failed experiments 10.  Ten steps 11.  Paranoia, is love stronger than death? 12.  Swim with the fishes ( God said) 13.  Savage patch kids

Purple Hibiscus

What do you like about me? I like your eyes, your smile, they warm my heart late at night when we make unrequited love in the pillow sheets What do you like about me? I like your humor, charm, and the way you talk to people every time you communicate it's like I'm watching a superhero Psychedelic mushrooms have taken over us, it's overtime and it's nice out so it's best you leave Ever since I dipped in purple I've been feeling a little ill, ever since you've left my life I've been leaving a little trail of my tears and I hope no one notices Before the sunset I'll take what's left of me and drag myself to the nearest bar, I got no care but I've walked a million miles before What's a girl like, I wouldn't know I've just met a bunch of bitches. My bad, too bad, all the good ones have flown away from me, I've color coordinated my thoughts with chocolate dip I'm sorry Madre I've inspired a bitch to fuck sideways I'm sorry Padre that's not what you would've taught me, I know The rumors aren't real, you look cute but you keep leaving me in the blue, that's why I have to cut you out I hate to go zero but it's a lockdown. Itself on top of ourselves that's one to many light to go out Purple ruined me that's why it's demotivated me in my own shop, Finance Fuck hatred I'm high for beauty that's why I'm making art for people who can't stand the sight of me, a member of some weird society where they can't keep there goddamn mouths shut The flowers are blooming in the sky, trust me I would know I've been there, I've done that, it's a pretty sight when you're trying to take a vacation away from the monsters that creep up to fuck with you These walls cramp me up that's why I'm scared, I tried to call for help but I don't expect anyone to answer it's best they get moving cause they don't want me, clearly I can see that At my worst I called for a friend, and I got more than a friend, I got everything I've ever needed and he was here all along that was God Formed a relationship with the man that's our business, he gave me everything I needed that's why I killed myself off in Finance until the album came out, it's genius I drank Lemonade and ate some chicken that's all I've ever wanted, someone with pure skin to pass me an opportunity I love you for that, I love you for giving me the chance to hold your hand to guide me through some teen process that only Brittney Cherry could handle Brittney Cherry good luck in college, and Gianna too. I've always thought you were the last two with class in class Goodbye ladies I know you'll have a holy future, my friend told me that you would and I trust his guidance Even when the paint dries I hope my friends will still be there for me. Love is love and loving can be difficult when one's sand sinks to the bottom of the seashore I swear to god I can't change, but love me just the same and I'll love you right back More Pina Coolata's for the girl she might need some, shielding others for my conscience that's what I'll teach my daughter If Finance is the devil, then I have to be the angel cause everyone is the opposite My only opponent is the homophobes who want to be mean to the heart of America, go fuck yourselves I am what I need to be to strive of excellence, and everything I do is excellent that's why I have to try to eliminate the forefront of the wall that's making me suffer lightly with a spatula of butter Dipping in purple may look nice, but it has its cliches even the Bible I was handed said so. Something doesn't seem right but I tried it anyways, and I had to murder Ryan Lapierre because of it. Goddamn these condos and conversations that I can't be a part of cause all these worshippers of the bad things shun me Shut the fuck up I can hear you I'm right here standing behind your back. I never thought you would spurt those words but you did it anyways. That's why I'm angered, frustrated, and a little bit confused Confusing how the friends you used to have, go behind you and say some shit when you did nothing wrong. Backlash for no reason baby that's a holiday. Sober gone wrong, now I gotta go back I'm a Christian now, better not crash If I had to rewrite the pages I'd erase most of the characters, America calls them the villains, I just call them garbage that belong in a disposal Laura won't you marry me, in this black Bugatti Too early I thought so homie This hibiscus is making me laugh in circles, on repeat, and even cry sometimes in my sheets that I used to make love in with my ex girlfriend prison convict soon to be Soonest flight to hell would help, holy shit these people can't spell, I can't stand these bitches. Take a hike and never come back that's the motto for the better hit it If I'm so good in purple then kiss me minutes into sun If there's real out there show me something before it has to rain If I'm the right fit, why are you trying to leave me and Vin Can there be light, I think I've found some, it's with God and his soul Fuck Eddy and his team Don't be scared I just kill you Knowing upon knowing updates of everything going on, I'm feeling like an online textbook full of knowledge. Thank my friend God that he made me a democrat cause fuck these conservatives thinking that black people are the problem of America. Every time a remark pops up my face turns blue and I punch a wall Megyn Kelly let's fuck Isabella don't duck Dip in purple I must Dip in purple I did Turn the lid upside down Soon to be spouse on the way Spent a dollar on some jewelry That's why my sister doing that And I'm about to kill the enemies Here we go don't blink cause you'll miss something 3 2 1 Die

Counterfeit

Holy balls all you motherfuckers get a look at this, I just robbed a store and the police are out to get me. Do you have the audacity to fuck with a God like me, I don't think so, after all I'm a grinder with the characteristics of a figure skater, skating a figure eight without two eyeballs, but one eye looking at his momma analyzing her facial expressions, to the judge the situation of her divorce with the alcoholic father Catch me if you can I'm a bandit on the loose, if you blink once all you bitches gonna miss me make the biggest move of my life. Wait until May 8th that's when I'll really go crazy. Counterfeit banquet hanging on a mouse. Mousetraps across the border, they're coming after me but I'm dodging bullets like the Matrix Keegan Shea can't come close to what I got, and that's a fact all the morally right people know that. I'll take a cherry blossom before the game and fuck my life by making these fucking operations that's a crime in its own self. Sophia Avril I'm sorry for Operation cherry blossom, that's when I was on the vodka Made a pretzel video I'd rather be playing the pretzel game with Alyvia Say your last goodbye before I'm cuffed up winking at my girlfriend Flavor your menu before I have to do this for my momma, my sister, and my fans I got an army that's ready to demolish the lobby, and the swamp full of dirty fucking douche bags who thrive off ignorance, ignoring the fact that there's women around. How can one be a Russell Sanborn when all he does is get rejected on a daily basis, basically what I'm trying to say is he doesn't give up, but based off of the new haircut it looks like he has A lovely day outside to bump into someone on purpose and pinpoint a pressure joint on a girl yelling my name in a moaning motion, that's what the fuck I live for at this point. Research your details before you make a dry remark about what I do, what I do is what I need to do that's why all the bitches call me baby All the Avril's like my style, businesses like the pills I give them even if they get drowsy during the meetings. Shut the fuck up this mediation ain't a joke, I was at a rough spot stop making up stories. I'm not the bad guy, but you a bad girl, Crystal Bowersox fuck something up so we can hit the water spout Counterfeiting a counterfeit that's my charge, don't bartend it cause I'll be back bare nude calling my baby baby, and my lady my girlfriend Jake Ford, can't you go to Singapore, get some better ear piercings they really make me wanna hurl. The reconciliation of a process that's meant for one not all, makes me wanna go to get a car to catch some snakes and kill them off Don't you understand that the cops are after me, it's a common thing cause I'm scamming those bitches off. Shit I'm an official bad boy, is that what God made me, or did he make me to hate people like you. I'll counterfeit what I see especially if I see some uncalled for touching going on between the two of you. Operation Bigfoot I'm so sorry for nothing I don't regret it, note to self don't date a blonde. I'll date a brunette so she can give me that cool sex. Sexual tension between me and the girl and it's getting to firm so that's why the white cops are after me Counterfeit it Counterfeit it Counterfeit it Comeback to life, that's what my future wife is telling me her name is Mercedes I'm just kidding don't shoot me, stop taking everything so seriously you're being so naive go swim a lap and drown to death. Batshit crazy in the bathroom they can't find me here, hereby stating that my eyes are locked in on you and I'm about to snap into a billion pieces cause all the things you say make me wanna grab you by the eyes, and use them for dinner and the jungle Jungle feathered heads making friends with dicks, suck my dick I won't be humble about it, it makes me sick. Makeup all over the couch, the mascara rubbed off, after the offensive drinking that took part at Worcester Technical High School. Skin the bottle, spin the bottle, tell a tall tale about you have no talent, that Alyvia Hagearty won't you be my friend, there shouldn't be in end because I love you so much, I'll pay millions to buy you another tye dye shirt just to see you sneeze on it Counterfeiting a caper the real caper is all these relationships that just form into dead fish at a butcher shop Who's Grayson, Grayson I love you man let me buy you a drink and I'll take a shot after every dirty look you give me in the cafeteria. After then I would die from alcohol poisoning. Power to Pasquale cause she's counterfeiting Erick's heart, like Gigi did to mine. I got God on my side, but even if I didn't I would get a fucking massage and think about all the numbers that Vinny and I lost just to step forward in an operation. If this was the Office and I was Michael Scott, Pam Beesley is right next to me flip flopping like a Budapest making pancake plays on a magazine wall slurping Kool Aid on Wall Street that's why she's a motherfucking wolf, don't vote for Trump. Bitch they're after me, no one can save me on this one this is one where you might just shove a onesie up an ass, and a blue pill in my mouth. Zoom zoom zoom I'm a zombie biting the necks off my enemies. I offered to help but Paul you're making it worse. Paul, Keegan, Roose, Eddy, even the repetitive chubby Edison. These are the men that are in the dungeon. I came to feed but I can't feed all these people humor when they find humor in Hitler Swastikas and racist remarks. Fuck we're counterfeited Counterfeit my feet for money It's a myth don't play with my heart Little silly goose you fucked with the wrong guy I may not be important to you But I can ruin a life in two seconds

Trust everyone

Why does hell have to doubt me, don't they know it Man oh man do they have to know it Damnation can't be real I know, I know, I know May I have a minute with you, I'll make it quick cause I gotta give all my sins to the bank cause it's donation season All the times I've made mistakes I've met my doom it tastes like fucking ivory Socially I'm a butterfly ready to bloom and roll big for the homies, the ones that spend dollars on pop rings If emotional barriers hold people back can emotions be economically stable to be sensitive on a bank account, does it matter? Momma said to your lifestyle the way you want, just don't smoke weed in your future apartment, or anywhere for that matter Anything for the woman that raised me. She, sissy, and Vinny are the only ones I can trust, but somehow I end up making the mistake of trusting everyone Each time someone takes a shot at my heart I'm depressed and imagine me drinking again, I hate it but my biggest problem is getting sucked by the magnet that people hold up onto my body Trust everyone that's a flaw even if it sounds like paradise it's the worst possible encounter to experience. Exiling a match full of women at the party in my twenties in my class there's a real beauty. I'll stroke her like a jellyfish and snuggle her like the twelfth commandment that I switched up as a law that you can tell a secret without getting shot, and wear a hoodie without the bad man fucking you up You are complicated but some how your complexity rouses me. Even when everyone has left you dazzle me, don't take too many shots at the party you're my blonde mermaid. Meet a man who gonna give you something like your father did. I put to much faith in my economics and my freedom of ownership Don't you dare give a talk to a bitch when I didn't give permission Don't go out to tell you friends just so you can Smoke in Fresno later with a freshman Trusting everyone that even talks to me, better write a note that later on we'll become the best of enemies. Fuck all this shit in the parking lot, I'll just past the resort and jam some Advil in my system and call it a night. Putting everything into someone just to get intolerance, you know why I killed myself in Finance it's cause I got my heart broken again it's no mystery History repeats itself when people get released from their disc to determinate dangerous demonstrations like a dictionary with different colors that's different from the ones they came in with I hope once I grow up to become a botanist, they write my name down in pen and rubber stamp it cause I'll roll out knowing I fucked up to trust these four fucks who ain't funny no more Edison I'll cancel your storyline, it's giving me problems, it's getting repetitive the repetition isn't even humorous it's cancerous. Brain damage on the way your shtick is the definition of a short circuit Jazz is my favorite line of art, but they finesse me and I can't get out. Emilee Algieri I promise I'm the one to trust. When the gig is over, maybe we'll connect in a way that others can't. Idiocy is a running theme, so within myself I must start the conversation I guess that isn't too much for someone with iron balls of steel. Excuse me Emilee but I see you walking by, and you look awfully nice, maybe we can walk around just to watch the stars and eat some rice. Beauty is upon you I can see it from a mile away, it's like I'm looking at Cleopatra but you are so alive. Pick up lines are for pussies that's just me being modest. Trusting people who trusted demons who can't be trusted throughout time isn't the best thing, but the bad thing is I do it more than I start an engine sobbing. My queen is queer she's a beauty god, a disco devil almost like D'anglo. Baby when I grow older and my walls have been fixed by whoever wants to fix them, we'll go golden that'll be on my younger tongue 24/7 It's hard sitting next to the same old people, getting no credit for trying to spice the whole thing up, they're sour Sour skittles try to make a move with me and maybe we'll be in the same bed sleeping together. McCluskey remember me, if you don't that's cool too, you'll be getting to know me in the summer. Whichever pill you take that's fine by me but you're alliance could be in shambles Better off dead the fat man said, with scissors I can trim your face off and watch you die in the Sahara Gianna Sasso taking names I'm liking what I see. Alana Trotto that can't be my motto I'm learning not to trust her or her feelings Trust everyone no more I promise, I'm a better man, I'm the best man at the wedding, I'm little God I got a metal that says so. Hope is alive I see it clearly, I can feel the finish line even if I put to much of my stock in people that wanna use me. I'm pissed off my heart still can't pick up the damn pieces All I want is a buddy who doesn't want to fucking kill me Vinny Sasso, Lucas, Eh Koh Loh let's gamble some shit on the poker table Phonies across the area, people can't be so dumb it's called life Don't get so dramatic Jessica that's melodrama at its finest The melody I play is love someone in the first three seconds When it takes them three months to open up I'm not about that shit anymore Trust everyone that's for pussies I'll give you all a lesson about life God unchained me to my father I miss him so much I used to go to therapy Even when someone says they're with you that's bad rhetoric remember they're lying Juvenile twats in court that's what it comes to, or a break up text saying I'm a tool I've heard all the things I've needed to hear Abner Cruz you're a crusader But my ass need to a day breaker to break Jordan and Ryan up Can't you see you can't trust me and we've established that especially Emma Thuot But hey I can't trust all these so called allies either cause they'll snipe me using Nothing but there stone cold eyes that never liked the sight of me Who can I trust, I used to trust everyone until now I trust no one and nothing not even my own mind. She called me sugar daddy, and sent me nudes dude what the fuck that's disgusting, but give me them digits you know because of my depression

Delusional ( Like you haven't)

I think it's about that time to come back alive and make a comeback for the homies I love you God, I love my friends and to myself I'm the king pin of this bitch Take your passports out. 30 day Europe trip awaits us pack your bags we're going now Bitch I'm gonna be the King of London fuck it Ireland all the ladies are gonna love me Cause I chug like there's no tomorrow and side effects are false advertising Board the plane, the day is waiting, first class for me and Vinny coach for the ladies I'll be drinking champagne with a cherry on the top, on the rocks, flirting with the flight attendant cause I'm a pimp about to proudly produce some chemistry I may be delusional and a little bit crazy but I sure do now how do dance so take the blindfold off and fuck a foxtrot and share a tango with the king It's like you haven't seen someone who has a personality before, I promise you mama the personality is down under he's a fucking animal, and a fan of the nudity he breaks walls to be with all these pretty ladies it's delusion Now we're here in Europe I'm about to take my fine ass into the party that's delusion, but if kind of sounds delicious. Death do us part until one passes out wasted underwater in a hot tub, like you haven't done that on a daily basis. I take my three friends Livy, Julie, Vinny into this party seeing freckled friends from all across the country smoking illegal shit with no one to stop them. I see one pretty lady with long red hair and I take her hand to go upstairs in the lobby where it's empty and the light switch doesn't work that's how you know this will work Julia's with three fat Yonkers that our light years way ahead of themselves they are teaching her how to handle stress cause they've been through it all. Giving her advice about what's wrong and right, remember combining spam captions isn't something just to block him Alyvia is dancing with three delusional women they are French I can tell by the birthmarks on their necks. One of them is Lea, one of them is Adele, and the other is Amy. Amy and Adele are making out this is fire oh my God. Like you haven't seen love before that's a lasting impression on an impact tattoo that Vinny's getting on his forearm, pull the fire alarm we got a bad motherfucker at this party I'll tell you what's delusional all this delivery that has to deliberate into a fallen deal because of tax emotions and evasion. Bad motherfuckers find it easy to kick the can when she's making out with Brittney Cherry. I call up the homie Christian invite him to this party too, if this party gets a little foolish then he'll ask for nudes that's some bad taboo, he gets nervous really quickly, so let's invite Gianni so she can flirt with him for free Delusion in Europe that's what's going on, fucking pretty women in my long form 2. Seconds of fun, but hours of silence besides the occasional surprise that my lady wants to share. I take my friends to this nice party in Europe, but once the shit hits the fan that's when we shift back to normal Morality is key when you kill someone on a high streak, I'm a steamer I've steamed many times banging tables like I'm on this tank. I think she's delusional that's why she's singing in my shower, I think she's delusional cause these jockey douche bags are taking control of her mind. I knew she didn't have a brain but she got issues, I want to help her but at the same time I wanna see her crash and burn. I can see the rain when you cry, when I cry it thunders that's just a Tuesday that's why my God knows Tossing and turning the next move that's delusion, that's paranoia paralyzingly paralyzing the pop sound that beat boxes in my head like twenty thousand lions roaring. If we're at this party and we're heavy drinking like we're in heaven, then how about we wear our tuxedos we look fresh in them regardless of our color. Sometimes I fantasize about us shaking hands at a Shibuya festival, that's how much I'm delusional, like I haven't popped a pill since the year my gramma died. All the bitches that give nerds like Sachin anxiety ask me where does your delusion come from, and I say it comes from Thing one and thing two and throw Patricia in there too. My days are twenty four hours and I consume my insecurities onto ounce trays but don't forget Trayvon I'll never forget I love you man Superb squab on the table which fucking pansy gonna grab a knife and cut into the blood. Humus, humor, hummers, I'll give you my life if you can fix my delusion. Abortion cuffing into clinic law that's why I hate Clint Brooks I'll block that bitch faster than I scream at my television saying Hillary won, wishing one last farewell to my friends before my favorite comes and I forget about them go fuck them. Funding with feuds that I like to take part of, it makes my noggin go into a frenzy and my light switch colors on the second. I am delusional, I will stay up to very hours to make myself happy getting high on marijuana pretending my stuffed teddy bear is a woman that I can get down with sandy hook jokes aren't funny you anti feminist orangutan, just because I said something you said doesn't mean you have to say what I said was invalid cause the things I say you treat my adjectives like an adjacent back rub abusing my proprieties and priories cause what you say isn't what I say cause I say shit that you say differently than what she says cause he says what I say contracting to the fucking crap she says to appeal to what he says to see what she says saying what he said to say what she said ending what he said and I'm the he, fuck you bitches I hate your hips, go suck my dick

Product

Contributing money to the foundation of my financial career, with all the money spent I'll take Karate lessons with leftovers, every time Ebony opens her mouth I go through internal therapeutic sessions The reputation I've built for this empire is unquestionable so don't undermine me cause I'm riding on top of the planet with the girlfriend that I'm hiding and no one knows about If I'm some kind of product how come I don't have a price on me, they can't take my pride away, this fake shit on the car that you sold before the par that you stroked that's partnership, I'm anonymous another fake day with fake friends doing random shit that children shouldn't watch This concept a product has semi tan complexion with bipolar colors that's personally disturbing, don't have fun without me I know you can't anyways cause whatever I am labeled as is good enough for someone with a stroke of beauty I don't create the blood, but the pills are being crated now, nowhere can you find them cause they're hidden in a sacred place that you're not allowed in I've been through a whole lot in these sixteen years of breathing air, both mentally and physically with the press of a button I could just explode into millions of pieces, a millimeter of what I do is to impress, I just dress to win over the trend that's why I gotta diamond watch that's too big for my scrawny arm Scratch the cassette that may be the right thing to do, mistakes are a virtue but when you get called names that's when you want to fuck a bitch up Washington when can you surrender, at what point to you get attention for being criminals I am minimally sure that's they're miming me, and watching me, they treat me like a product when I'm just a human being Temptation is a nightmare on an anniversary celebrating a couple who fights all night and day, and wants counseling. Think about what's best for you, even when I'm on the street I help a homeless man out cause I believe in him Powder blue skies that's what I have to compromise pretentious people for, product that isn't me cause I'm pretty clean Rave to the fear, that's light they think I'm something that I'm not, forgot what they said I don't give a fuck just don't identify me as such You and me tonight let's make it happen, don't worry I'm not a wound up doll, if anything I'm a Jack in the box cause I'm so imaginative. Imagine a world where guessing games was the main goal for Gucci sandals and sunshine for a silver friendship. The glory days is when we didn't fight and I wasn't labeled as a product, looking at future houses and a fucking bicycle that we can ride all the way to Shibuya If we just got along alone in a house with not a soul there, then maybe we can laugh like when I used to post YouTube videos for you My knees are numb from all of the pain that didn't feel real until now, if I see you on my feed I'll break down into tears cause I miss your pretty smile There was a sparkle and now the only sparkle I see is in the sky, beating me up for a pair of sunglasses and socks A hooker and a eight ball in my lucid dream, but maybe the dream was with you I forgot how to imagine a motherfucker man without frolicking in the sand, Oh my god I am a product aren't I Underserving acclimate for the worst of the day that's why we give out accolades. I tried my thing with Alyssa Accord but she blocked me the next day. Friendzoned like a fuck that's five fingers chopped up, and ten lines crossed out in my hand An elegant garnish could've saved the time I spent grieving I'm a nocturnal animal Nocturne like a love bicycle that's a bypassing byproduct for bystanders forming claymation cause they can't get a piece of picture pussy themselves Now I'm forced to practice like a product that's foreign to some producers of self communication and dehumanization it dehydrates me to death to think about those people in decades to come Just to rewind to the remembrance of Eleni that Greek chick that I used to have a crush on, oh my Ryan Lapierre your lady picking is similar to a homophone with disaster tendencies to disable a teleporting line with telekinetic tendencies to financially fuck someone with money in their pockets, that may not be my morals but that's the way that I draw feel free to vomit in my coloring book, after all if I'm just some company than you can't compact a product that hasn't even hit puberty yet, that's just puppetry In Tunis lied cause I'm institutionalized for my bare knowledge that I display on a day to day basis. Going larger is a vibe that's why my vibration is a lie, just look at my relationships which tend to rather die Being labeled with a sticker like I'm the United Kingdom, I'm supposed to be the king of you how dare you switch sides and ride with douche bags with dildos Illegally this is taking me to a place of mind to start a stab show with a butter knife, and ketchup for dramatics. Honey don't forget your perfume that Chanel works for me and others even though I'm more of a rendezvous guy, God hodgepodges my 2017 by giving me another set of testicles, at my own testimony I hope Asiah shows up she's the only one that doesn't tissue the shovel when the struggle is on high alert in the prison that we call a job Loved as fuck but damaged as such don't do what you need to know that's my job. My confidence oiled onto a stretcher crippled like a wounded soldier luckily I saved it, cause what I gotta do to get revenge for the homies that sadly had to die is sabotage to enemy and use power to my advantage Bitch they say I'm such a product, but I'm a productive prodigy. It's proficient to profile a motherfucker with the chemical balance to backtrack a bassoon like O.J Simpson. If I'm being compared to the Matrix than how can all of this be real, instead of myself being the problem, maybe it's the skinny dipping skull bitches that caress the drama first and I'm okay with the that, because if I go out looking good, that's good enough for me, cause I got what I needed and the need has salvaged me into optimized strategy

Jordan Warner

I'm getting tempted by these jockey fucks, smelly fucks with body odor they don't use old spice, my old grandpa who I hate because he's old smells better than these buffalos. I don't care though I'm in love, I'm in love with these assholes cause that's my drift, my end game is to break a heart cause I got nothing better to do, and I'm straight up clueless Motherfucker what you doing asking me out on 9/11, bitch who do you think I am, I'm Jordan Warner not your whore from pre school, I use boys to get attention cause I'm petty and pretentious. I won't love you, I'll only pretend cause I like Chris Sweeney that's my babe. I'm not just some wannabe Wannasee trash chick from the valley, I'm a freshman with some spice that I got from the garden alley. In my garage I have my cleats I'll spike a motherfucker who wants to call me Cherry Blossom They say I belong in a mental asylum no I don't I'm just American. Shabalaga we're best friends but best friends don't fuck that's why I gotta fuck with Sweeney. All we do is just argue like we're smoking shit, what am I supposed to do just sit and kiss you. Every time we lock lips I projectile vomit all over my grandma cause she's old Fuck old people they look so gross, fuck everyone besides the ten boyfriends I have they all cool besides Ryan Shliapa. You look like a llama you act like a lady cause you're so fucking sensitive I have everything a lady wants I'm hot, I got the body, and I don't rot like a lamb getting catabolized for food experimentation. Don't you dare to try to fuck with me Shliapa you are never going to see what's down under, even though you've tried I've declined that's a no go bitch Bitch I stare at Ryan Lapierre because he looks at me like I'm some kind of psycho witch. Who's this Ryan Lapierre he's a real fucking douche he can go and suck my dick. Sweeney won't you beat his meet Okay that's enough agent red I've caught on don't think I haven't seen you. My mental capacity is strong and if I have to break out my habit of strategy I will. Instagram eight at night I'll text my motherfucking brother Ryan saying watch the fuck out, you're getting cheated on like a snake on the human scar. Bitch what the fuck is going on, every time I see you you're on another guy's lap. Being caressed by football players without a brain cell, when he's not looking you go tongue to tongue with Dylyn. Am I just seeing things, or do I see a motherfucking phony. I will wipe up the blood on the floor, shit is on the wall, and these walls create a monster. If you wanna end this shit show how bout you break up with him, his breath is being wasted by a red goldfish loving nightmare. Jordan Warner I admit you got the looks, but the only thing that's on the inside is black and we all know that. Three alter egos in this fucking song. Jordan Warner, Ryan Lappy, and here comes Dennis Jordan Warner won't you love me, I just want to feel you all the time. I miss the times that we used to cry over The notebook that was the shit in 2004. Once you and Ryan end your thing maybe we can fully comprehend and complete a figure fuck in a final mental showdown with a moth I got a thing for red heads, Alexis was before, and you are the present. You might be the president of passive aggressive nobodies but let's agree to love one another without going to the next person to fuck their slimy ass. Don't assault a bond that we painted on the first day of dating, Jordan Warner I know you're daring, but you're dating me and it should be for good, don't be a fool and send nudes to people that you're not supposed to. I want the password, to see your history with certain people, I got my knowledge from a blonde who got her knowledge from a thot. You might not be aware but I know much about you, just wait until the summer once we're talking you're probably going to fall in love with me too. After all you have thing for Ryan's. If you want to date Mr. Anxiety than how come you're not dating Erick. He's the clingy time that can give you free sex all the time. All my friends say that red head is something else, that something else is you fucking nobodies for lunch money Warner I warned you to backtrack those broken thoughts because I see so much potential, but when push comes to shove we'll all be throwing a pity party towards your name. Ready for the summer I know you are Mrs. Warner. I'll help you sort your shit out so you can be a loner. You can have me I'm single and I like Pringles, oh wait I'm sorry I'm taken to Alyvia I'm kidding that didn't work out. I got my eyes on you at your lunch table. Vinny and I are pulling some true detective shit we catch things that even your fuckboy can't catch. They call me the king because I can find the cracks in a relationship. And I've found the crack it's you Jordan Warner. Plumbing isn't your job, I want you to be in finance so you can tickle my inner mechanics to have the motivation to punch someone out that's playing cards with the devil. I love you Jordan Warner but stop cheating and stay loyal cause to wrong to play origami with five people at once. The points I'm trying to make are valid so just follow along with me someone who thinks you're a model in a construction class with a couple smelly fucks who can't spell for their goddamn lives. The language I speak is fluent fact that's why you gotta stop squatting on your two things at once yoga mat and take a lap to realize the rat that you've become. Jordan Warner you should be an organ donor so you can donate something for once in your life just stop sitting there and watching. Unless you make a change, you must be stopped by me and my members. How are you gonna tell your kids that Chris Sweeney is their daddy because mommy made bad life decisions. I've only had one special honey and her name was Isabella and once I realized she was the fuckin devil I had to let her go. But if you want what you please I ask you Jordan Warner to go ahead, but remember to feed dinner you must be remembered as God's creation, and I can count my fingers to ten but if the clock turns to twelve clockwise and you haven't changed, tech will turn to hell, and hell will be upon you Goodbye Shaps, hello Lappy Goodbye Sweeney, hello Ryan Goodbye dye, hello natural I'm the gucci bitch don't mess with me or my handbag, I'm a little tipsy but I'll tiptoe to get some more whiskey. And fuck him before my daddy come home to see me ripped

None of your business

Damn personal space means nothing to people no more, I'm not one to call someone out like a picky person but pick up your garbage when maiden mothers try to motorboat your lips without lipstick and a flick of shine Cannonball in the crystal clear water, clearly the wagers aren't so private when Captain Obvious crushes on some angel from Amsterdam that's you Sophia None of your business what my work is, what matters is that my mental health is cleansed before the big game with these sick motherfucking children who act like I'm some mass murderer murdering the force God why did you leave me with some anomalies I can't unbox, it's unbreakable because unblocking me is clearly something that they don't tend to think about Even whenever I'm minding my business, there always seems to be someone bitching about how I'm something that they don't want to be, I say fuck them and continue to make alliances with people that care about my feelings, and love me Attention ladies I'm not scared of your threats, they make me laugh cause it's pathetic how one can stoop so low to never talk to me again. How about you get your emotions checked out so you don't make a mistake and make out with waysides riding the dicks off other junkies Our whole friendship is a subliminal message, this is supposed to be a community I suppose we don't all have to support each other but when one is sipping the juice of the devil than I have to duck None of your business what I'm doing on my Periscope. People punctuate without any preconditions on their plate and quite frankly I'm sick of it. Disappointed in glitter that Amanda Gocklin isn't mine, but minerals can't adapt without a leader and these dry rocks pathetically ham in terrible insults to make me start something so they can victimize my decisions. Oh God they're demons, kill them with a stroke of your arrow, and sacrifice the heroes in sight for the villains that don't shed light None of your goddamn business who the fuck I talk to, let me do my thing. Stop acting like my mother when you can't even raise your attitude to be mature enough for a group chat. Changes I need changes to be a man that has rational cumquat potencies. Drink a magic potion, so that you faint when your ass deflates in defense to the bullshit. The cabinet is full of cabinetry that's not what I sign up for I sign up for the memories, the good times with people that experiment with exotic flavors. Instead I'm only seeing the cast of an extra excoriated exorcist go fuck them all with my themes and my animals Watch your mouth, I consider myself to be a charade of Christ because of my fatherly hula hooping to the people that need a brother. Circling around the dining room just to touch a beauty and her crown, drowning my sorrow with the duchess to clutch my used to be crush with a white Ferrari and a diamond ring with flawless diameter. The streets are filled of contemporary women who push me aside even when I'm productions fresh strawberries, goddamn watch your goddaughter her and the car are about to collide, fuck that it's none of your business what kind of color I dip in cause I'm out chasing the seventh severance package that owed me a dollar for lollipops Tried to fuck Lindsey now I'm biking to try and find myself love again, it's none of your business that I'm nonexistent dying my hair for the extended warranty of a bad boy Julia Pasquale watch it don't make threats when you can't dish the heat, I'll dance in the night to ice pick the homie to my right who's up my ass about God knows what, I just tell her to dig in thinking I'm driving insane on the far line of immaculate bulldozing. I won't pick apart your shit, if you dip into the good side and stop fucking around with my heart, none of your business to tell me the to do list when mist is in the skyline, and soloist is the next step in my nest Hotel up there, excellent excerpt you taught me to butterfly, to swim good from theories looming I NASCAR has a special piece of my heart, none of your business how these colors interact in my interstate At the strip club with all these people on my lap, but all I think is how I get back at the assholes, do I slash their neck with red, or kill them with the blue If your business was my own, then I would take ownership of heatstroke me and Heather would die The feather flew down from the sky, I'm about to say some shit that will go over your head, and the only business that this pertains is mine and a select few Tell me the fewest crescents to go over the moon without coming back as a wolf, clawing cans backstage I wish I had my camera to document this Stapleton. Love is like a box of chocolates, but I swear to god the shallow people purr like Luther studying damnation, I am shaking but fuck you if you think you're so proud of yourself, you are wrong because your eyes are red from all the crying that the fathers brought Hey I've been looking for a good one for my whole life, when I reside and resign from Earth I hope I've already found the second piece of the Lapierre show None of your damn business can you please leave bitch, Karma sutra that's aura. Angling the way sliding out there water bottles, I will fucking kill you, and fuck your before the moon comes back, and the background gets reversed by my backhand strutting in the bathroom. Newscasters America is a duck, and my classmates suck, but my business can be defined by the way I come about. If one hundred fifty wasn't enough then I'll go to a bridge concert to concede my cool to sell you out

Double standards

My homie got beat to death cause he dated another man. He came out of his shell to date him, he felt so brave, I was a proud brother the little homie identified himself as what he was I love that kid. We go to Shannon's party for a few cocktails and I witness my homie mingling with another man so I go over, cause I gotta see the rundown of what's going on. A couple hours later my homie is making out with the man, I'm stunned in glory proud that my shy friend can adapt into a tank that's some real talk. Perfume hits the air as the scent of pine scenes trees in springs, there's no tornado outdoors cause this is a party full of outsiders, this is their time, it's timeless love, way to go homie you got yourself a boyfriend. Don't let nobody tell you nothing. A few days later I call my boy up he's still with the man that he fucked at the party, he finally felt like he was loved, his parents gave him no attention, getting spanked by dad 24/7 he didn't live that good life. So he rolled some blunts with the man as they locked eyes and started kissing nightly. I walk on by to the house I smell marijuana it's a little bit crazy, but they're madly in love and I'm happy for my friend as he was knocking on heaven's door days ago. I invite the two of them to my place for a couples banquet for some shrimp and pasta, they say fuck it yes let's go tonight. So they put their matching tuxedos on and their colored bow ties with Chanel, and pack a couple wine bottles cause they know me well. The wind is harrowing, above looks sad, but that's just the casual rain. I invite the homie Donald I've known him since pre education, and he's a people person he can bond with the best of them, he's so great. So I get the crackers ready and the champagne popping, this is what you call a fucking party. Donald arrives with his golden necklace, his goddamn grills, and his girlfriend Selena. She speaks fluent French and that's how I like my hookers sister he knows what my heart craves. Selena's knee snapped on her way to the bathroom, before the party started and she started crying like a wounded gazelle, Donald goes to help her when I hear the doorbell ring. It's Jarome and Jared my two friends, my great amigos. Matching tuxedos, with a man bun eighties style looking like studs. So all the guests have arrived and I'm about to introduce one to the other cause I'm such an important host. Donald gets up off the ground with his French princess and gives a dirty look when he sees Jarome and Jared holding hands. Jarome is all in he reaches out his hand and Donald slaps it looking angry, we were scared I never saw him this upset before. Donald starts yelling saying what the fuck are these faggots doing they should go to hell. I punch Donald in the face saying get the fuck out of my house you inconsiderate illiterate don't use that word that's offensive, where are your fucking morals. Donald doesn't care he takes me to the ground, grabs Jarome by the neck and takes his belt out while I'm unconscious. Frenchie and Jared are trying to hold him back but Donald is so buff that they're no match. Punches are being flown, and tears are being shed. Jarome's face is purple as a grape, as he falls to the floor, and he's pronounced dead. It's 2017 what the fuck are you all doing, let people be happy and live their life the way they want to. I don't care if you're gay that's fine by me, it's not a choice if someone tells you that say shut the fuck up you don't know nothing about LGBTQ. All you conservatives, and bible pushers wake the hell up we're in a new generation. Where relationships can be formed by people with the same sex. If God could change the Bible he'd let gay people be, I know God is up there shaking his head at the Texans. If me and you have to fight the system then we should do it. The system don't give a fuck about orientation, minorities, or transgenders they just talk about deporting, and discriminating against all of them every day. I'm a straight man in High School and I got more common sense than you baboons. The only gross thing I see is a republican going on about gun control like an insane dumbass. This world was made by immigrants, be thankful for your local Muslim who you're probably not paying a dime. It's 2017 we should all get along, and accept one other's lifestyle. Donald Trump ain't doing shit so how about we control the country in our way, where everyone gets paid the same, and equal rights are the name of the game. Trayvon Martin got shot for wearing a hoodie, Oscar Grant got shot by the police for simply being black. You know how much suicide is going on cause you bullies encourage hatred across the nation. If I have to be the preacher that has to unite the country than I will in 2040. I will be there for you, even if everyone has left, and you don't have a home let me be in your heart as I will care about you. To all the gay people out there that feel like they can't fit in I'm here for you, I'll help you out I promise you. We may not have a leader who gives one damn about you, but we can raise the rainbow flag and wave it high cause you shouldn't feel shame in who you are. You are loved by many, and these communities inspire me every day, the light will come to you, and you should never feel shut out

Commercialized, failed experiments

Did you experimentation work the way you wanted, do you commercialize your options just to fit in, inside do you have the heart to fertilize the scent of a rose? These walls can talk they come to life at night, I took a shot in the dark to try to fix the broken machinery but a man can't stand uncompressed memories, that will put me in memorial service. How about we get some Vodka just to ease the insanity of the inside of our insurance. You help the homeless out, while I slap my homies in the stomach. It's a golden shower filled with desperation and droplets of teardrops that would make a grown man cry. Operation Bigfoot was an experiment, and it expired rather quickly. I may be no Bradley but I got better abs just ask Isabella. Sunshine in heaven that creates diffusion between my different quotations that's subliminal for some reason, easy there you were being used, you were born to be a user. Useless to think of some clever username just to make you reek of depression. If there was white behind me and if I had to speech a couple lines I would put on this act that's not part of the contract that I signed as little baby. Controversy is my middle name put that on my Mimosa and my peppermints. The sound of one's engine energizes me to experiment on people with thyroid problems, and kidney failure. The daily routine is to act funny to save a life, I do that for a lifetime don't you think there's something behind the lottery, if you do you won the million dollars. Baking heartbreak like that Crystal shit cause she knows what I have been through, commercialized attention whore, just to gore a fitness package full of illegal pills. Red or blue I'll let you choose, just so when you pick wrong I'll be the one to leave the casket open. Molly aren't you jolly laughing with me at the attractive blondie, that's going on a vegan diet, failed experiment she gave up to eat that Chicken liver in two minutes time I saw that. Five hours a day for nothing, treating it like I'm working a job to fight the fury of our future nation enemies. The day before the election that's when I called up my army to fuck the fun to ruin shit that would never be. With Pasquale we then killed something that didn't need a stab. Might as well unlock the injection code to inject, cause I was fired from what I loved, we sat there silent thinking is it over for us. Now the bitch that freed my self doubt about getting out there wants a job at Burger King flipping fake patties just to get some money for the restraining order against her boy toy Dan. The story was her breath smelled like Mocha Latte Chocolata at Coachella, cause she was drunk on caffeine that wasn't me, she chose the red. If life is an experiment than all these failed experiments are created by exodus experts who flush the blood down the toilet on a monthly basis. I don't smoke that weed no more, it's better if I try to be independent cause I was identified as a motherfucker before. To take my anger out I might have to sell out my closest allies even though they did nothing wrong, commercializing my life story as a soon to be teen mom cause my gateway is straight into my own territory, shoving intelligence out the window to interest my mental issues so I can see the things that I'm not supposed to see. Eyes glimmering maybe it's just the fertilizer that I sprayed onto my new red Bugatti, on the carpet I rolled with my homies like a dog, but I'm prepared to brawl about some random shit to get people to hate me, even if I'm not getting paid, it's better to stand up for what you believe in cause I'm in a temple of love. I'll say I'm more friendly, but it's okay my judgement is clearly flawed. It's my turn to talk, I promised that I would try to help, but how can I help a broken branch when she's clearly impossible to work with, the impression you set within my ecosystem is a high intolerant crybaby you need a fucking binky cause quite frankly I'm sick of your official shit. Fuck we experimented way too hard and now together we must witness what we created, when is summertime so I can drink and dance just to text a stranger to phone fuck at twelve AM. If America was watching anyone with some common knowledge that doesn't work in congress, would sort out the heroes and the villains quite simply. Accusation every day, all I wanna do is flush someone out with a flashlight and duck tape, Loving cringe it's turning into a permanent disease for me, maybe I'll just paint my whole body with tattoos saying lick me cause that's what I get off at. If someone could see the real something they'd turn into a raven and fly south forever, this thing is going downhill that's why I'm bringing out the pills, cause every time I talk what I get is attitude, fuck attractive people. Guidance Councilors and countless guilty people in our circle, peer pressuring pear heads to headshot the many mistakes they make on their headset equipment, the IQ of Finance is equivalent to a Chipmunk, but at least Chipmunks can keep their mouth shut. Even when I'm trying to help a fellow upset man out, I get pathetic friends from the girl before her sweet 16th birthday, let me do my work or else I'll go on your account and disable it. Don't think I'm soft the only thing that's soft is the way Jahmiah talks to us, God bless her. Commercializing this television program with unsettling behavior, but fuck with me and I'll turn you into a commercial that no one watches. A part of me wishes I was in Convo cause I've come to the conclusion that making this collusion constructed destruction in my mental health. A failed experiment is an effort you make to try something that is unlimitedly armed with the love from the up above, but when your experiment inherits the injection of rage in your blood, maybe you should excuse yourself and stop trying to make it work, when the makeup has run dry.

Ten steps

Ten steps to glory, that's a thousand trophies to the house of Tori's Bow down to the bobber with some money for some common ladies Me I'm pulling a Lazarus, saving up gasoline for the trip to China Use to be a quad but I'm feeling a strong trio, with homie and the queen Don't hate me, hate how the game is played it's checkered seven Several thousand people have havens about amnesia but I'm ten steps to living I'll down a million mountainside mints at your show, and sugar high myself to entertain I'll take a rain check on the shower, I must continue to fuck with Jamie Raising expectations, them motherfuckers creeping on to attack me But I've stacked some spaces between the wall to talk about our song It's wrong to miscommunicate that's why we can't go on that date Rate you out of one hundred girl you're a sold eleven, cavities from caviar And desperate for attention so I go on Skout to find a skinny later with some paper I ran out of tears when I was ten years old, nowadays you can find me hungover I'm the best of my generation, making bets on what colored underwear you're wearing in the bedroom, coming up from the soil in the renaissance to fool a face off for no more than two cents a fucker. All these fun fucks fucking my formation, that's my favorite heartstrings to play when you're heartsick from these heartbreaking unbound academic caterpillar sketches. Ten steps before I dunk myself onto the winning throne, where I'll throw a bone to the babies cause they seem to be getting incurable rabies, accumulate a calculation where the bitch never wins, and wishes come to function to find my buried treasure in a punching match that I won. Seven inch inactive, how the ladies gonna see that I must report it to the firefighters so they can fact check it with the bloody casket. Used to go twenty steps backwards when I saw boomerang bullets in my class that I created. Now I take ten steps forward cause I found God, and he's here to help me to try to kill a messenger who's acting like a puppy dog just to fit in, cause we stole his people away, so to stay cool he spreads some fake shit cause he a mother fucking snitch. Now I got the yams, I got Richard Simmons handspring and I'll fit it in my ten stripped polyester suit, that all the ladies say is a sweet ride for a goddamn pimp for a lifetime One step is I the God in the sky being the best in our skyline life and I got the skills for all that paperwork, rolling paper right cause I'm a people person fitting in to extra terrestrial extract sessions for a fellow privileged butler getting closer to the butter Two step is she, the issue, the extinct example of a diva elephant, she might be out of her element but she needs tissues to breathe, cause after all the time she complained she'll be dead in the sewer Three step is he the son, the misogynistic father that bothers the living hell out of everyone he meets, fuck him to a tee cause all he does is play God with his significant other who's republican as the others in the suburbs Four step is Bella won't you rub your Nutella into my you know what, cause you know us, it's out control intercourse that feels outdated but the doors are locked, so give me more before we snore until twelve P.M and the cops are knocking on our door Five step is Gianna the Rihanna of the seniors, God bless you you're the only one that I don't hate, a privilege to make some enterprising entertainment for you, my biggest fan no doubt about that I wish you the best of luck at Worcester State, may my friend bless you with a good life, so tight. Six step is Rocky, membership to asking girls out on Shrek dates, the only ogre giving oral any time soon is you and Kendra Rose when I hook you doves up in the summer morning of July Seven step is the betrayal, it's best to not suffer my institution with a forty eight caret caregiver who masters the art of deception. It's best by default to move on with my life, but the definition of myself is someone who sticks around even when I smell the scent of disgusting nastiness, ditching but I'll pitch my case or evermore I'll shut YOUR whole shit down Eight step is either which way, is it best to rest in paradise with parasites all over you while you're looking at Tom Ford Tuxedos, or is the better option to bet on a super operation to bowl all over competition in a call to rial dimensions? Sleep talking without a gate I'll video tape the whole thing to send to my therapist, she'll like the popping noise Nine step is encountering hipsters with trigonometry, trading poker chips, and power moves if you're so popular than make a loving gesture to a girl with some fantastic log in code, decorate a door for more makers of minutes so your Matrix idea can levitate into a diaristic ball and chain potential client teen that gives no damn about anything besides his Justin Beiber water bed Ten step is the animal. If we have to fetch with synonyms, and homophones to make a home satisfied than toss around the idea as God as the Zookeeper, and me is the lion. I am trained to be a beast, don't expect a day without some chaos. Simmer was the middle name of the hotline of the shaken anti christ chickens that will fuck their pants with a mittened teddy bear Rare bikinis at the magazine shop which sells magic offside vinyls for middle class entrepreneurs like Ryan Lapierre. Ditch an entourage, to go into a Montoya restaurateur monologging with seven people who externally and eternally encourage you to set a dream to fuck Kate Upton. Uptown girl don't go and cry, I'm straight fire but I'm more of the guy that takes the flames out. For fun I'll make another one die and urinate on the sidewalk jaywalking Beatles style with some real heroes. May not like my personality but that was my intern job, May 8th come and the job has just begun. Ten steps watch me loosen screws, the screen is mine, in screaming time

Paranoia, is love stronger than death?

She liked my Sherlock, I went to far and locked the page with paranoia Karnataka paranoid shit going on, she called me schizophrenic cause I was losing my marbles faster than when that entree came at the end of my last supper An average bitch learns how to do this crazy shit throughout pre teen, but the presumption was to love with ease. I loved her more than anything that's why we did a tango to Viva La Vida vividly and had some physically satisfying sex in the shower Stupidest question I was asked was where I got my paranoia from, bitch it's cause you fucked with my emotional gate, now the gateway is jittery and it won't cool down The lens on paper says to strike a starting point with a racetrack and a racer that is this so called legend, I learned to be Mr. Make believe just to forever forget a past that hurricanes my heart with a passion Mariah Carey Karaoke at the Irish bar, no incidents involved cause inside your shell is that coffee scented marker from the Valley. You looking at me with these dirty eyes and the edges that make me get all nervous, won't you stop it. I wonder numerically were you just here to design me, and at the end tear me apart with all your mighty. If I gotta go make an alliance, then call up people who have at least two brain cells. All these games are making me paranoid, a one night stand turning into a three month love fest in the matter of a minute. Bitch what do you want me to do, I won't be your Jake Ford stereotype I can open a fucking door. It ain't easy creating one thousand deaths to spare a thousand pyramids. Teaching me to myself not some mistake that can't feed a deed without being syntactically puppy dogged. Dark thoughts across my brain, it's complicated but nothing can stop the feeling of being lost, lady bought me a Ferrari, gotta stop before lose Jordan Warner is a prototype, stereotypical relationships that's not my thing I'd rather wait until my mail comes in. Dirty dancing alone is fine for now, just wait until a woman gonna love you. I miss the touch, and the feeling of someone that cares about you. Oh why, oh why do you gotta fuck it up, go through hell and back because of your dilemma, did you think that this was gonna happen I've gone too crazy, now I'm heading towards nowhere at this show that we call staged poultry. If I gotta be solo I'll rock that style on the download, if there's a no show before my father's anniversary then I'll talk to God and drink Martinis to I drown with some homies that will stick with me. Fuck you, I'm not an operationist, I'm just an impressionist wearing Nikes. Rather be impressive than be dating some kind of misguided culture bat. All these things go right to the heart, that's why every fasting is so sensitive. Every sentence is some unethical white shit, shut the fuck up my fist is fully charged. I am capable of choosing what deal I want to take part in, it doesn't feel paranoia but the creek cracks when life gives you love lemons and your face feels unfelt for the first time since you were a firstborn. Three dimensional model I was in love with you, you were in line with the wet dreams that happened on the weekly, weekends are a little rough but the only credit that's being giving is the art of bicycling across an acoustic version. There's two versions, but the side that is going to be revealing itself on a permanent permit is the side that lets others capitalize the catalog color that they are choosing to friend because of their ancestry. Paranoid about what people are gonna think, but if I take her to my kingdom then maybe we can make some small talk. There's no sense of acting sensitive when every session is about some medical marijuana and therapy on Every Thursday. Death is coming later on, but is love stronger I think it is cause it ain't any better. Twenty different procedures just to find a mistress to divorce in thirteen years. I don't wanna be in court, I wanna have a daughter. I don't want to fight with four different women I want one that understands that I'm not perfect. Perfection is reality but if we can bedroom talk for two hours making the best sex I guess I'm okay with that. Rhythm in the beginning is quite easy, but when the sparkle drowns itself in the Atlantic that's when a rough patch settles and it's not pretty. Fantasizing about Las Vegas, and months of wedding planning, I could write an essay about a perfect woman. Anytime we wanna be Cleopatra, then let's keystone the ignition and find a pretty picture so we can solve it piece by piece, if this is love than this is strong, I need to love I'll let it ride. High priced tattoos all over her freckled neck, I like that a put a golden necklace with your name on it, that makes you so attractive. Just don't use me because my butterflies are punching my stomach because I'm scared of what might happen, if our love runs out and the money goes to salvage. Holy shit what's your name, I better flirt like Ryan Lapierre cause this lady mighty fine. She's an archeologist that's into film, this is the girl I want to make my wife. So now we're going at it in the bedroom saying good morning when it's still dark outside, outsiders who don't got no Oscar, if we have a fancy dinner I'll show you what's down under. No Vodka needed, no needles in use because we love each other, if this is what it feels like I'll put a ring on her middle at the age of 22, to spend my life with her even if I'm near broke after college At some point we have to sacrifice our soul to the light, doesn't matter what age when your time is up, you can't fight it cause it's no option. It's okay for your eyes to well up, and upload sadness into something so vial, but don't be scared it's okay to believe, because when you reach out never look back, and believe in yourself.

Swim with the fishes ( God said)

Renegade I hate the tribesmen I wanna real estate that gives us pension, can I have your permission to get a license and drive late at night cause I got nothing to do? Broken hearted by my Holy Grail, hold the liquor we have to see what is in store. If I die tonight then temple come my allowance is sunk, it will suck when it's raining heavily across the crescent, even the ones against me could leave some memories God said for me to Swim with the fishes cause I got fucked by someone's murder weapon, I didn't think I'd die with someone out to get me, something's in the water it's commonly found as granite I'd defy gravity if I defended my moral rights. God is right he did that, he's done it, I think if I do the things that he'd accomplished, then I'd make my future happen. If I didn't somehow make it work, my will is pointless when no one's praying for the homie giving out free lottery tickets. Living the good life with the magnitude within an appropriate manhunt, what's the matter with these people no thesis longer than eighteen kilos, I'm a rider good riddance my good friend. The blood is on the cross, and crossroads are cracking that's the communion I created. The colony is clockwork by the time we leave the circus, my circumference will be empty. Talk to God every day, confession every Friday we do our own thing, partnership that's defying odd-work. If hell was on Earth then wouldn't everyone breathe the same, if Heaven was here would our love stay the same as our plan. Please pass the grape wine, and a blue pill to bottle in and drink it when I'm lonely. The planet's full of Uranium and sky, let's give pills just so storylines can end. Steroid junked by a jury full of starships, weed metamorphosing in the air that's just the army of blondes, deadliest death done to silencers and broken headlights that's threatening to someone who hasn't throughly thought it through. Swim with the Fishes God said, I expect a pretty painting to be painted by an artist of I and the colors in one hundred years from now. It's professional to offer up some assistance when the advice your being given is armature level arbitrage. The obituary is in the paper now I gotta get down on my knees and start praying. God said there is different silver linings, so I took a source material to step my game up and instead of shooting the idea down I brought my own way into the inside. Chosen Chocking on by with a villainous violinist who strums her own swan song, when she gets rejected by a fellow abuser. Some choose the route of the right, and I gotta fight to go to the left, where all my lobbies are. Deathly sentence by overturn law enforcement, and beautiful mermaids. Lifeline love that's what we loved talking about in a radically tab inoffensive jungle. Not high on scenting, high on passion, when I start swimming in the pond that's when I'll allow you to create different wavelengths. Eavesdropping in a shack, that's where I'll be laid to rest, scene one and action that'd another paycheck for the girlfriend. It ain't party time when your relationship ain't perfect, the chick goes to tennis tournaments but if I have to strategize I can cancel my complaint card and complete in my motherland. Land mother don't day the wind when all you want is the sun, I promise to order balanced weather, from land and sea I will feel the need to raise the sand. Down in lovers lane I'll be the lion. I'd take my love by the hand, she might be invisible but it's what I got above. Going natural instead of the campy suit, I'm going out with my hands held high, my heart pounding even after the murder, next is the search party for my father. Nothing would make me more thrilled than to hug him one more time, never got the chance to tell him I love you. I can feel the lust it's like a magnet, building a better future for my conscience making connections. I'm willing to put the lonely days behind us, to lay you down from keeping you from feeling sad and breathless. Don't pray for the worst, freezing from kinetic killings that's happening to our renegades. Renew before I, cause I'm worrying the haunt has come. Comeback coming I am Lazarus, can't even tell the difference Idris and Matthew please come and find me, I'll play you by the fiddle and invertebrate an investment sticking stocks seeming inefficient from all the money that you're collecting, when all she wants to do is kick the bucket and run from troubling Ricardo the bartender from the ground under, cause all my barriers are cracked and the walls are alcoholic. Some scholar told me to push, and I'm pushing even though eventually I'd rather pull. A handout to some certain university called Harvard, I'll buy you a necklace before you head out the door. Swim with the fishes God said, when you do swim with the fishes remember to do the butterfly they'd satisfy there beliefs to see another butterfly. That sounds orange, but I'll keel snorting red to keep on moving on, embracing loses but when the win comes I will create. Paris and fashion in foursomes can fuck forgiveness but I will never forget. Hiding under the turtleneck if it's my turn to go, I'm going to die swinging from the fences. Within seconds of a time the round of applause gets smaller and smaller. Welcome to the splash zone don't you think this immaculate. Racketing you to go dial your friends in your rocket. Overdose commercials coming to a Dodge car near you, chargers fuck the swimming, same shirt but feeling shirtless to cover my eyes in the shower, don't hurt yourself it's not your turn to die, fierce fish fight eyes open wide, when will you cut your shit, and choose to come back. Don't fade my baton I wasn't finished with my screenplay. Key to my heart feeling the form that's some polished excellence. Experience delusion within five names I care for. I don't wanna die, I don't wanna swim with the fishes, God I love you do this favor. During the storm I never lost who I was

Savage patch kids

Everyone in June to September lived in my internal reality. The realization that I'm fucking up what the fuck is this? No future for the two of us, living separate lives without each other at this point I've gotten over it. Ice skating rinks are totally overrated, drama and a bunch of bullshit I'll pay God a couple hundred bucks to get me out of here. Lying about who knows what on a daily basis, attention span directed towards inaccuracies and misinformation. She was innocent, she had the right to say good riddance and goodbye to me. Never got the chance to express myself, I was rocking in mid June, and I fucked it up I should've took it slower, savage patch kids for life was the deal, didn't even last a year isn't that shame. I regret in sorrow every day thinking about what I did wrong to cause the dysfunction. No Ice Cream meet, or blueberry drinks can save the drunken days chatting about our personal secrets, safety was a key, but I realized I was in love and I took it too far by doing phony shit, texting clingy messages making mistakes on an hourly basis. Not only one I loss but I lost the sister too, months of healing I'm all healed I just need a minute to clear some shit up. Put the thing to sleep on the fifteenth, I beg and pleaded but there was nothing I could do, adapted too lately, realizing all the bloody shit I created at the end of the friendship. All I wanted to do was to help, and all I did was create more of a train wreck. We were tangoing with love in the beginning, but towards the end it was theoretically destroyed. I lied my way to the end, and the ending wasn't so pretty. Apology to her, I'm aware of these flaws. Issues in the summertime I got them all dealt with. The boat was too big, but my heart was to fixated on something that would never happen. Can't even look at sour patch kids the same way again, or listen to renegades without skipping the radio station. Real talk I used to be your number one homie, and now I'm the number one loner with no one but a bitch baby, and a crack audit who uses slang to fit in. Don't forget the good times we shared, I know I won't, even the thirty viewers on the channel won't, I hope I took care of you when you were in peril that's all I care about, because your perfection was the only thing I wanted. One wish it would be to take it all back, and pretend we didn't know each other just to start all over, because this shit went all unorthodox, I may not be a soccer player but I can rock it with my personality, I know I sucked at Town of Salem but all I cared about was you. Paranoid about losing the savage patch kid, that I couldn't focus on the finer things in life. That's what happens when you fall in love and can't get out of a delusion trap. You demolished two bitches I was a proud brother, they were accusing you of shit and I tried to stand right by you. I threw away everything to be the other half of the patch, but all I came across as was a pathological liar ruining everything one day at time. Everything was going so well, you are the best person that I've ever met, I am the nightmare that concluded communism to cross a nation that we didn't sign up for. Stop, I loved you with the passion and laces. No other lady had the ability to make me cry with sincerity like you. Song after song, text after text, but fuck it's over Ryan, you are a great person and you deserve the best in the world. You'll be okay I promise and I'll be here every step of the way no matter what happens you and me will be bro and sis until the end. You're my best friend and you're always gonna be. You're a great person therefore you will get something great in return someday soon. Sleep well Ryan, I love you.