#i just go outside and do stuff. it's so fucked up.

[papaya-twinks]

just an assistant - l.n - part.idk

Warnings: Smut, 18+, fingering, handjob (kinda), swearing, degradation

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

🎀

A/N - coz y’all seemed to like this, I’ve decided to continue it. 

Lando seemed to have a remarkable way of putting himself down, even if he had achieved the best result humanly possible. Such as when he secured pole position yesterday and he still looked downcast. 

Somehow, neither of you had said anything about the little…sexual escapade the pair of you had gotten up to recently, and you instead continued to work not all and freely. “Lando, I’ve got the paperwork for the team meeting after the race,” you said, handing him a stack of paper. 

“Cheers,” he muttered, taking them and dumping them on the side. It frustrated you how careless Lando could be, but after all, you weren’t here to control him. Just to manage his stuff. And yet, as you watched the race unfold, with the mass of team orders and the fuck off the pit strategy, you were almost horrified. 

The way the tea, guilt-tripped Lando and how pissed he looked as he stepped out the car, congratulating Lando with a half-hearted smile. You half-expected Lando to…take his anger out on something. Rather, someone. 

You. But…he didn’t. Instead, he just walked past you, going to read the papers you’d given him earlier. But it didn’t take a whole ass genius to figure out what he wanted. He’d initiated almost all of the occurrences between the pair of you. 

Maybe….maybe he wanted you to initiate it. You stood outside his door for a solid five minutes, rebating with yourself whether this was a good idea or not. Fuck it, who cared? “Lando,” you said, walking into the room as he made a noise, but said nothing. 

You huffed, a little annoyed he didn’t even look up, as you took the paper from his hands, making him finally look up. “You’re angry,” you said, seeing how pissed off he looked, both at you taking the paper, but mainly the race. 

“Media is in an hour,” you said. God, how the fuck were you supposed to initiate it? “You’re so shit at everything you do,” Lando said, rolling his eyes as your cheeks turned a light pink hue, “can’t even initiate sex, can you?”. Just hearing him say the word ‘sex’ sent a shiver through your spine. 

“Need help for everything, don’t you?” he said, pulling your wrist to pull you onto his lap. “Pathetic,” Lando rolled his eyes, pulling his belt down, grinding your hips down onto his growing bulge. 

“Lando,” you gasped as he ignored you, bunching your hair into his hand as he lifted your skirt, pulling his suit down, his cock springing between your thighs. Fuck he was huge. “D’you think I should’ve won, Y/N?” he asked, eyes fixed deeply on yours. 

Fuck, he was putting you on the spot. “I…you should’ve won,” you said, as he cupped your hand in his bigger one, bringing to round his throbbing member. “How long hybrid you wanted this?” Lando asked, bringing his lips to suck on your neck. 

“Since….since I met you,” you said quietly as he smirked, his hand round yours. “Go on,” Lando encouraged you, holding your hand as he pumped himself, eyes fluttering closed. “Fuck,” he hissed, “good girl,”. The nickname itself was enough  to send shivers down your spine, as he moved you to lay on your back. 

“Always wear such small clothes,” he hissed into your ear, pulling your skirt over your ass, pulling your legs over his shoulders. “Lando,” you started, not even knowing what you were gonna say as he shushed you with a small smack on your thigh. 

He kept your hand wrapped round his throbbing member, his fingers trailing up and down your sensitive, moist folds. Your hand moved in rhythmic twists up and down his member. “God, look at you,” Lando said, more to himself than you as he stared between your legs. 

“Keep going, yeah?” Lando ebbed you on, moving both of your hands onto his cock, your thumb teasing at his tip as he held you on his lap, inching his finger into your core. With the other hand, he moved his fingers to slide of your clit, gliding through your heat. 

“Fuck, Lando,” you gasped as he pumped his finger slowly inside of you, bringing his other hand to spread the juices he’d collected across his own dick, as a sort of lube. “Couldn’t even manage to initiate this yourself, could you?” he scoffed.

“All you had to do was ask,” Lando sighed, his voice full of mocking as he curled his finger against your g-spot. “Oh, fuck Lando,” you gasped, hand instinctively squeezing tighter round his member. 

You could practically feel how Lando breath hitched as he pulled his hand away from between your legs, pushing you on your back on the massage bed. “An hour before media, you said?” Lando raised a brow, “how many times can you cum in an hour?”. 

Lando clamped his hand down on your mouth to stop any moans leaving you, as he ran the head of his cock over your entrance, before sliding in gently. “So fucking tight, aren’t you?” Lando gasped, one hand sliding into your hair, the other holding your stomach flat down. 

“Lando,” you gasped, voice muffled by his hand as he slowly pulled all the way out, running his throbbing head over your clit once more, collection yout warm juices across his length, before sliding back in. 

You’d barely even had him inside of you, and the room almost smelled like sex, your small white shirt clinging to your chest and arms as Lando worked on removing it, pushing his cock back into you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hips slowly going from rocking into full

-on snapping against yours, the sound of skin-on-skin echoing as he fucked you. He still had one hand on your mouth, the other throwing your shirt off, moving to cup yout tit through your bra. 

You could tell Lando liked more fonts that just his dick slamming into you, one hand on your breast and the other coming to press gently on your neck. The restriction on your airways wasn’t enough to truly hurt, but add to the pleasure. 

It was like some sort of way Lando could show you who was in  control,mas if you couldn’t even already tell with the way he was drilling into you. The feeling of his cock punching in and out of you was heavenly, you felt like you’d pass out from just the feeling of his member deep inside of you. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he said one hand running your hair, tugging gently to bring your head down enough for his lips to crash against his. “Lookin’ so good f’me,” Lando groaned, his voice deep as he closed his eyes, head tilting back slightly. 

Lando!s hands trailed down your body, one resting tangled between your hair, the other threading round to lay on your neck. “Come on, Y/N,” Lando said, his voice deep and gravelly, “you can do one thing good f’me, and that’s that you can cum,” Lando groaned. 

“You showed me just how well you could not long ago, baby,” he said, giving your jaw a quick kiss, before he dropped his lips to your neck, taking the supple skin between bis teeth, nipping at your sensitive skin as a small purple bruise appeared.

“Should just hire you for sex, shouldn’t I?” he asked. There was so,eating about the bitter degradation that did somehow build up pleasure in you, but you were half-hoping maybe he could be a little easier on you. 

After all, you weren’t as incompetent as he made out, in fact, nowhere near as much. “Lando,” you gasped, eyes going a little red from the tears of how hard his cock was slamming into you, his hips angled so the head of his member hit your g-spot perfectly. 

In your mind, be looked like a damn angel, his abs glinting with a thin layer of sweat, but in his mind? All he could see was you. He didn’t know why he insisted on being such a dick to you, but it was almost…attractive, seeing you upset. In some odd way. 

You could feel your body shoot into tiny spasms as your orgasm flooded through, your pussy clenching round Lando as he groaned, holding you down a little as he kissed and nipped at your neck gently.

“One more f’me,” he said, not leaving any room for question as he rolled his hips a few times, pumping in and out of you before he resumed his rapid movements. “Lando,” you gasped, your eyes rolling back slightly as his hips snapped into yours. 

You were sure Lando would be leaving bruises on your hips and thighs, your hair a mess beneath you. “I said…i did say h-how many times I can make you cum in an hour,” Lando said, looking to the clock on the wall. 

“One more, yeah?” Lando said, his words almost encouraging as he slowed down the pace of his snapping hips, now gently rocking in and out of you. “You’re such a pretty girl, Y/N,” his voice was no longer rough and commanding. 

Now…soft? This was unlike Lando. But you didn’t hate it. It was nice, having someone treat you well. You opened your mouth to say something, no words coming out as Lando rubbed soothing circles along your hips. 

“That’s it,” he said softly, “cum f’me, and we’ll go do media and I’ll clean you up after, okay?”. Your second orgasm flooded through as Lando pushed into you, once, twice, before he slid himself out, cum shooting in thick hot ropes on your abdomen. 

“Just a bit of media left,” he said, a warm smile on his face as he gave you a gentle kiss on your forehead. Whether Lando wanted to be mean to you right now or not, he didn’t, 

Because he could see how hard that had been, how much he had overstimulated and pushed you, whilst he had his thumb rubbing on your sensitive clit, and he knew you needed some aftercare. 

[rqnarok]

MOTIVE | dark!old man!logan x fem!reader

summary: strangers-with-benefits!old man!logan punishes you out of his jealousy.

content warnings/tags: smut! mdni. porn with little plot. old man!logan. unspecified age gap. dom!logan. sub!reader. possessive & jealous logan. pet names (kid, kiddo, little girl, etc). unprotected p in v. heavy breeding kink. barely proofread. wc: 2,6k 

You didn’t think Logan would care—or notice, even. 

This thing between you and him has been going on for months now. He picks you up from the diner you’re working at, drives you home (his house), then fucks you stupid throughout the after-hours. 

The sex is everything you have craved for, really, “Ya’ need a real man to do this shit, huh?” A real man who does all the work and stuffs you up with his cock until you’re only speaking in high-pitched whines.

But aside from that fact, something is missing. Something your big heart always had craved, something he failed to fill.

The lack of attention and affection.

Outside intercourses, he barely talks to you. He departs from the bed after every time you fall asleep—or when he thinks that you’re already asleep. Sometimes, he takes you back to your house in the morning, sometimes he just leaves you in his vacant residence. 

All bare and worn out.

You’d rest your head on his chest in the dim room, drawing shapes on his naked skin, “I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.” 

The tips of his fingers subtly stroke the crown of your head, a light touch you can barely feel, “Go t’sleep, kid.”  

It’s too unstable and lacks consistency.

That is when you start talking, well specifically, messaging, a friend of a friend, someone around your age. You are not even attracted to him but he’s nice. He gives you attention and affection you hardly even register. But hey, you just want your big heart loaded up. No one can ever blame you.

What you didn’t know is that Logan notices everything. He notices how you start to sleep more later than usual, playing with your phone for a while. How your lips curve upwards at the glowy screen when you thought that he already left the room. Making him utter a question into the cold air, “What’re you lookin’ at?” 

Strangled, your phone falls into the sheets that cover your bare form, “N-nothing, really. Just texting my girlfriends.”

And Logan knows you’re fuckin’ lying right to his face. Because he remembers you told him one time in the beginning: “Sometimes I feel lonely at night. None of my friends are a night owl like me, y’know?” He fuckin’ remembers it all. 

On a random Friday, he decided he had known enough. He drives his way to your diner and there you are. Sitting too close to his liking with some fuckin’ boy; the way those giggles left your lips makes his stomach turn. 

You didn’t know that he was sitting in his car the whole time because he never visited you on a Friday night: “Gotta do somethin’” 

But there he was, gripping the steering wheel too tightly his knuckles turned white. Muttering curse after curse under his heavy breath. Playing over the last few weeks and trying to find what went sideways. But something always went sideways with him. 

He had hoped you would understand that his aloofness was merely a product of his scars and the long life he had lived. But now, seeing you in your apron whilst smiling at another man and pouring Logan's favorite black coffee—he wished he hadn’t been so cold towards you. 

What would he do without you? What would he do if you decided that you didn’t want some old man n’picked that boy? He shakes his head lightly, no, Logan needs you. 

The thought of you leaving him makes him fucking sick and he decided to do something ‘bout it.  

By something, he means having you on his bed, naked and splayed bare in front of him as he laps up and down your dripping pussy. 

“Pussy loves me so much, huh?” Logan murmurs as he squeezes your thighs that clamped around his neck, making you hum a mhmm to the pillow beside you.

Logan’s thick fingers eagerly stroke your clit while he continues licking your folds, earning soft mewls as your head tilts back in pleasure, “Ah- ‘M so close..!” 

“Doin’ so good for your old man.” You’re moaning and gripping his greying hair while you squirm on the sheets, rolling your hips down on his face.

You were so so so close to getting your orgasm before he abruptly pulled away and stood back up on his feet. Taking you by surprise. Delaying you. 

“W-what?”  Your head is still overflowing with your high when you watch him drape his way into the nearest armchair and put on his glasses as he reaches for today’s newspaper. As if he didn’t just have his tongue deep inside you a minute ago. 

Just as you try to catch your breath, you slowly get up in a sitting position to gape at him with your flushed cheeks and aroused body. You were so close and you need him back now. 

After a minute, you begin to notice how he grips the newsprint too tensely, how his brows furrowed and his nose wrinkled, how he keeps clenching his jaw on repeat, and how he looks furious and grumpy.

Something’s up. 

“L-Logan?” You call out to him. He clenched his jaw one more time until he could not contain his anger anymore. 

He takes off his glasses in a harsh tug and stares directly at you, “Are you fuckin’ him?” 

The way he looks at you sends electricity into your core, you feel like a deer caught in a headlight, “W-wha—who are you talking about?”

When he gets up from his seat, you can see the bulge on his pants, his stare still burning into you as if a predator catching its prey, “Fuck. That fuckin’ boy from the diner. Did ya’ let him touch what’s mine?” 

Oh. 

Oh.

He’s talking about your ‘friend of a friend’. How did he find that out? You began to wonder in silence. 

You gulp as he gets closer and closer into the bed, making you push your back onto the headboard subconsciously, “Oh- no, no, he— he’s just a friend, Logan.”

He isn’t satisfied with that answer, you know this because the bed squeaks out a creaking sound when he gets his whole weight on the bed, latching and trapping you, “Ya’ thought about leaving me, kiddo?” He rumbles as he squishes your face cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, looking at you sternly as if he’s scolding a misbehaved child, “Thought about leavin’ you old man?”

“N-no!  Never!—” You’re being honest! You would never leave him…you just needed a little more. By sensing his rage that radiates the entire room, you try your best to stare back at him with your doe-eyes, a look that never fails to weaken down his knees.

Then, you build up the courage to cradle his face with your soft palms and stroke his beard, focusing on the greying parts. “Just a friend, Logan. ‘Would never leave you.” Your voice comes out as a whisper but it successfully eases him down. You can hear his breath steadying after a while. 

He closes his eyes as he lurks forward towards you, greedily locking his lips onto yours, “Was so fuckin’ mad.” As he pulls away to mumble, you keep pampering kisses on his face—to assure him that you do want him and him only. 

He pulls down his pants and lets his cock spring free to his stomach. A sight of pre-cum on his heavy tip and the grith of his fat cock makes you cry out. 

Logan trails his hands from your face down and down until he reaches your pussy. It’s still as wet as he delayed it a few moments ago. His calloused finger probes at your entrance, making you whimper into his mouth. 

“This is all f’me, little girl?” He keeps teasing your folds in one hand while pinching your peaking nipples with his other hand. All while still looking at you oh, so hungrily. 

“Y-yes! All for you. No one else—” You fail to finish your sentence when he enters one finger into your heat, placing kisses on your collarbones and mumbling mhmm onto your skin.

You can’t hold it anymore since he delayed your orgasm earlier—you’d do anything, “Pleasepleaseplease, need’a cum, please!” 

The squelching sound of his finger moving in and out, in and out of your cunt didn’t help either. You’re staring at him lust-filled and dumbfounded; you wish he could just read your mind.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby.” He removes his finger and brings it to his mouth, swirling it around his tongue to savor you, “Tastes so sweet too.” 

“Where d’ya want me?”

You whimper pathetically at his words while making grabby hands at him. “I-inside, pleasepleas—” At this point, you don’t even know what you’re begging for.

In fact, you don’t even know anything…

“Don’t got any rubber, kid. Can’t fuck you, y’know?” Logan is fucking a liar. He threw all the condoms he had into the trash bin this morning for this sole purpose. You mumbles a small ‘wha’ into his face because he delays you over and over just for him to delay you again? 

No, no, no—you gotta have him now. 

You look at him like he’s the only man - like nothing matters but him and he’s making you furrow your brows in sadness, in desperation. 

So then,

“I-it’s okay… you can- still-if you want to. I’ll let you.” 

Bingo. 

Just how Logan wants this to go. Because again, out of your awareness, this is how Logan punishes you. For making him so jealous he can barely get any sleep, for pulling away from him the entire week that he can only jerk his cock off to your pink ribboned panties (the one that you left on his house), and for making him think about you every second he’s awake because you’re his air.

He was so fucking pissed—but now, he feels that he had won already. 

“Mhm, no can do, princess. Don’t wan’ you to regret it.” Your face fell into disappointment, can’t he see how much you want this? How much you need him? “‘S alright, yeah?” He says and earns a whiny protest from you. 

Tears begin to build up in your eyes as you stutter over your words. All you’ve got is sobs because you’re so overwhelmed by everything that’s happened tonight. You can only call out his name, trying to get his attention and affection. 

“Logan.” You’re squirming on the bed, wrapping your legs around his hips, pressing his body against yours— making him pull an indifferent look to continue on his act.  

“Next time, alright, kiddo?” He kisses the tip of your nose as a decoy. 

“N-no! Now! Please, Logan. Now, please—” You move your hips upwards and make his tip kiss your wetness. He begins to lose his composure when you wrap your small fingers around his cock. Logan grunts and lurches forward because he’s just an old man who needs you. There’s little he can do.

“Wan’ you inside…” You whisper breathlessly as you move your hands up and down on him the way he loves it, “‘S okay, Dada, I promise.” Your thumb swirls around his cockhead before bringing him closer and closer to where you want him until the tip pushes inside your aching folds, “‘Just pull out, okay?” 

Logan grins at you, showing his wrinkles. Oh, he won’t pull out. He knows he won’t. 

This is the climax of his ‘punishment’. Yes, he’s a bad man, the worst kind of man. But this is his only way to keep you, don’t you see? To make sure you won’t leave him, to make sure shit like yesterday won’t happen again. 

He bumps his nose into yours and kisses your forehead, “Y’sure, baby?” 

And you just let out a ‘yes’ because you just need him so so so badly. He nudges forward, in in in, until he’s buried inside of you—then he kisses your lips again. It’s so hot because he has never fucked you like this before, so raw and deep. After feeling your velvety walls, he knows he will never let you go. 

He starts a cruel pace and jolts you; your cute tits jiggle every time he thrusts inside—he’s sure that you’re made for him, to be with him. Put on this place to be his pretty baby and to have his baby. 

“Ya’ll let that boy do this to ya? Mm?” You shake your head rapidly at his question, hoping he’ll understand. And he does. “T-Tha’ right. Pussy’s glad to see me - loves me.” 

Your eyes squeezed so tight but he can’t stop, not when you’re squelching ‘round him and gripping him as if he’d disappear, “My good little girl - fuck - fuckin’ love you.” He confessed while burying his face on your neck and the only thing he has on his mind is puttin’ a baby in you.

It’s the truth: he loves you. More than anything–more than himself. He just doesn’t know how to show it in a normal way.

He thrusts and thrusts and thrusts—your moan gets louder and louder and louder. Logan takes your hands, interlinking your fingers together and kissing your knuckles.

You make these pathetic little noises, ah ah ahs, and he knows you’re close. Now is the time to do his final act, “Y’know why it feels so good, kid? 

He touching you everywhere: pinching your nipples and holding you by your throat,  “‘S ‘cause you’re fucking a real man, baby.”

“Y-yeah! Jus’ need a man—need you—” Logan nearly cums right there and then when he sees how tears stream down your cheeks as you look up at him in pure admiration—like you worship him. Again, just the way he wanted it.

Your shaky voice as a newborn fawn reminds him what he’s here for, what his punishment is to you.

“F-fuck. Gonna pull out soon, darlin’”

What? It’s too soon for you and your vice grip somehow manages to get stronger around him. He can barely withdraw before you squeeze your walls so deliciously and wrap your legs tighter; ankles locking his hips onto yours.  

“N-no! Don’t- don’t go anywhere— Staystaysta—” Logan sighs in relief. You ate up all his acts. It’s working. 

His palms move to your waist to work himself deeper in you, hitting that gummy spot that he knows will make you sob.

“Wha’dya mean no? Logan asks, “D-don’t wanna knock you up, kiddo.” Oh, but he does! He does. He does. “Gotta pull out. You don’t want that, ‘kay?” 

“I-I do! I do.” You finally plead to him with your soft voice. “I wan’ it..” 

Logan can’t last any second longer but it’s okay because you’re so close to getting to where he wants you.

He snarls a ‘Fuck’ under his breath and, “Gonna get ya’ pregnant, sweets.” His mouth gets to your neck and starts leaving dark bruises on your silky skin, “S’that what you want? My baby, hm?” 

“Yeah.” You squeak up while meeting down his thrusts, “Yeahyeahyea—gimme a baby.” You continue your mindless babble, your brain is empty except for the thoughts of him. “Fill me up, fill me up…” It’s becoming a plea. 

“I’ll fill you up, sweet girl.”

And he’s gone. Lips latching onto yours as you both reach ecstasy. Logan fucks you through it—fucks his seed so deep in you so it fuckin’ takes.

He wished he’d feel guilty as a sick old man for ruining you and your life—but here you are, milking him for all he’s got and telling him that you love him too.

You’re gorgeously unaware that he’s punishing you the entire time; you’re too fucked up when he’s spilling warm ropes of his cum on your walls. He pulls out slowly, staring at the white strings that gush out of your wet hole before plugging himself to make sure it takes.

Logan thinks everything’s fine because he’s got his assurance:  that you’re never going to leave him—that now you’re fully his—and that he has won. 

[ghostdiva]

ok so the new trailer for episode 3 just dropped. big hype. here are some theory's, notes, and observations.

also I took a lot of screenshots...

anyway here we go.

so the adventure is set to be "The Mystery of Mildenhall Manor". Now, I do think that Caine is gonna be the quest giver this time, sending the gang to find something inside the spooky, probably haunted manor.

small guess is that they gotta find Matilda, one of the ghosts haunting the manor, and trap her in a vacuum. idk why, it's literally just a hunch.

Jax also takes a moment to harass Pomni with a vacuum, which just makes me think of Luigi's Mansion.

anyway, the gang (minus Zooble) are gonna go in the manor and try to find whatever they're looking for, and either by agreement or random set of events, the gang is gonna split up, Pomni and Kinger being paired up. I don't really know if Ragatha, Gangle, and Jax stick together or not, as they're not really shown much in the trailer.

I am inclined to believe it is a set of events that separates the gang tho.

it's the one of the reasons I can think of that'd make Pomni climb on the door like that.

I mean... outside of the very spooky decorum.....

which Pomni has a pretty reasonable reaction to

btw, I fucking love Pomni's cartoon physics with the squash and stretch rubber-hose animation. it's so expressive and fun to watch.

anyway, it seems Caine is determined to have Zooble go on adventures. so he literally sits them down and tries to therapize them.

though with Caine being an AI with very little knowledge of how the human mind works, this goes predictably horribly.

I imagine Zooble tries on some level to convey to Caine the ludicrousness of their situation. stuck in a digital world getting repeatedly traumatized by meaningless adventures that seem to do more harm than good. though I get the feeling Caine would miss the point, leading Zooble to correct him, and/or get upset at him for not understanding. watching this verbal fight happen between these 2 will probably lead to us, the viewer, understanding more about Zooble.

anyway, back to the manor with this cute little guy.

look at him, he's so cute and squishable. unfortunately this guy is the only cute and squishable NPC here because Pomni and Kinger seems to really be going through it.

they're mostly poking around, opening drawers and stuff. maybe they're looking for a key to get back with the others or something? who knows.

they both probably stumble around in the dark for a bit, both figuratively and literally.

they might end up stumbling into an antagonist NPC, which is the only way I can explain some of these screenshots.

it looks to me like Kinger is facing something. I mean, He's missing an eye in the first one, smacking something with a gun in the second, and looking really worried in the third. Plus the fist 2 have similar lighting so I'm inclined to believe those 2 pics come from clips in close time frames to each other.

there's also another image that has similar lighting...

now... this may sound weird, but I think that either Pomni got Possessed somehow, or something tried to take her shape. Possession seems more feasible since we know at least 2 of the NPC's in this adventure are ghosts, and at least in media ghosts are known to possess people. seeing as digital circus seems to love pulling from video game mechanics, this wouldn't surprise me at all.

this would also kind of explain why in the "POMNI WAKE UP!! IT'S TIME TO GO ON AN ADVENTURE" video, in the "Kinger with a shotgun" clip, he seems to be hitting Pomni with the gun. it makes a lot more sense if Pomni ends up getting possessed somehow, forcing Kinger to hit her in order to defend himself from the ghost.

this also could tie back to the worried look on Kingers face in the screenshot before Possessed Pomni. Cause he'd know what he has to do, even though he doesn't want to hurt Pomni.

Hell, I'm pretty sure Kinger even openly protects Pomni in this episode.

because of the shot in the trailer taken from this hole's perspective

not only is Pomni hiding behind Kinger, but he has one of his hands out in front of her, as if to protect her from whatever is in that hole.

also in regards to guns, Kinger isn't the only one who gets to have a gun.

Pomni gets to wield a shotgun too, and it's likely to help both herself and Kinger fight off whatever was after them in the hole.

Ghost possession and gun-slinging aside, I do think that Pomni and Kinger have a little heart to heart in this episode.

boy doesn't that screenshot look familiar. reminds me of episode 2 with the blue lighting and concerned expression on Pomni's face. That scene in the test room where Pomni comforts Gumigoo. this time tho, she's comforting Kinger. it almost makes me wonder if this will be a reoccurring theme, with all the other characters eventually having a heart to heart with Pomni, and Pomni comforting them.

it'd really make her live up to her quote in episode 2 "I guess I just don't want you to feel like you're nothing. I don't want anyone to feel like that".

the only thing I do still have questions about, is wtf is Kinger looking at here?

I mean, it looks like the eyes of a ghost, if they could make their eyes glow like that.

ya know what, maybe he's looking at a mound of pillows or something.

yeah, like that.

[decepti-thots]

☕️ wild card (whatever you wanna talk about!)

It really annoys me that a whole segment of fandom treats Roberts' take on OP as 'the real one' compared to everything else in IDW1. I don't inherently dislike that he would choose to look at the inconsistent and bad writing OP got in phase one and go. Hm. Well. Let's quietly ignore that. I do in fact think choosing to ignore whatever the fuck Costa thought he was doing when Costa himself did not give a shit about his own work, for example, is what any reasonable writer would find themselves inclined to do, lmao.

But at the end of the day, in phases two and three, Barber wrote the bulk of Optimus' story, and took the reins on the character basically 100% outside some prequel flashback stuff. And he did not do what Roberts did. He chose to try and work the prior stuff into a characterization that re-contextualised it into something more coherent and self-aware of what a dick OP came across as a lot of the time. People will look at the super conventionally Heroic And Corrrect take Roberts did in a couple of (pre-canon!) stories, assume Barber must ALSO be doing this, see Barber do something different, and insist this proves Barber is an idiot with no understanding that his Optimus is frequently in the wrong. It's incredibly annoying, lol.

ALSO, why do so few people seem to grasp that the cop backstory was introduced in Chaos by Roberts..?? That was not Furman, Costa or Barber, all of whom I see it attributed to for some reason. Whenever people are like 'UGH I hate coptimus' but then are like 'I guess he was OK when JRo wrote him though' I'm just. Throws my hands up! THAT WAS FROM CHAOS. HE DID THAT. I suspect admitting this would complicate people's 'MTMTE is universally the most socially progressive IDW1 thing, everything else sucks and never does even One Thing as well or better' dichotomy some people are stuck in, or something. (And frankly, MTMTE is very happy in Shadowplay to run with the Good Cops Fighting Corruption stock storyline, which Barber would later on complicate a lot in the OP ongoing.)

tl;dr Roberts wrote an Optimus that was more in line with people's concept of G1 Optimus, but that doesn't mean his is the sole real 'correct' one in IDW1, next to all the takes that... draw on prior IDW1 stuff. Stop getting mad Barber didn't run with the way Roberts wrote him in a couple flashbacks, it's disingenuous.

[xandermatthews2290]

The Carousel Hanging Still Bothers Me

Like what did using the carousel to hang Arei from the rafters accomplish? She has a broken neck now which means I guess she died faster, but I don’t see how that makes the killers life particularly easier especially factoring in the time it would have taken to do half this stuff.

I need to know the why of this killer, I couldn’t give less of a crap about their motive right now but what the hell is this setup?!

There’s no real benefit outside of creating a semi-ambiguous time of death, why even choose this method?

I don’t want this to be some stupid seesaw effect 2.0, that plan didn’t even make any goddamn sense, Kork can just stop singing and fully slam his body into a loosed floorboard without any of the other 3 people in the room noticing a change in volume.

What would have actually changed in this murder if they’d just knocked Arei out and strangled her with the rope they used to hang her?

if the answer is nothing then this murder is gonna have that weird flourish on it

This clearly wasn’t a framed suicide job either, the rules are explicit in the fact that suicides don’t get trials or graduates, so any plan to make this not look like a murder is objectively pointless

If you wanna fuck with the cause of death, then just strangle her and stab her in the throat afterwards, smother her with a starchy ball of clothing, stomp her head in, why the fuck would anyone go for the old “build a pulley to the rafters 40 feet up so I can break her neck”

[gibbysoup]

🌙 𝓗𝓸𝓬𝓾𝓼 𝓹𝓸𝓬𝓾𝓼 🐈‍⬛

Chris x reader

“Oh come on, it’s just a bunch of hocus pocus”

Chapter 2

The cold October wind blew in y/n’s face as she followed the boys to the Sanderson Cottage. Nick and Chris seemed to be arguing as they didn’t agree on which way to go.

“I told you, you idiot we have to go this way, it’s quicker and not totally in the woods..” Nick argued at Chris.

Chris shook his head as he listened to Nick yap about not going the right way. “Whatever man..besides we’re gonna end up on the Forrest anyway…” he told him.

Nick eyes practically rolled to the back of his head with Chris’s response. “Whatever, hope you get a fucking tick well you’re walking through all that tall grass.” Nick shot back.

This caused you to snicker, and Dani to look up at you. “So, which one do you think is cute again?” She asked y/n. “It’s Chris right?”

Y/n’s eyes widened as she looked down at her sister, hoping that the boys were too caught up in arguing to notice the two girls behind them talking. But non the less y/n shushed Dani. “Would you keep it down a bit?” She asked, but then answered her question. “And yeah..it’s Chris.” She said.

Dani shrugged a bit. “I think nick is my favorite..he said he liked my costume..and he likes purple.”

—————

Y/n, the triplets, and Dani walked up to the outside of the Sanderson cottage. Dani grabbing her older sister’s hand tightly as they approached it.

“Legend has it that the bones of a hundred children are buried within these walls.” Matt said, taking the keys from his pocket and going to unlock the door.

That definitely didn’t help Dani’s worries at all. “Oh, great.” She said. Before they entered, Chris went up to y/n and Dani.

“Don’t worry, we’re not gonna let anything happen to guys okay?” He said, glancing down at Dani to assure her that she was gonna be okay. He then caught a glimpse of y/n. “I’ll protect ya..”

“Well, I don’t think anything is gonna happen in there, but thank you for offering your services..” she told him, a slight smirk on her face as she still held her disbelief for the supernatural. She knew she had to play it cool.

Matt was finally able to get the door open by jamming his shoulder into it. “Alright, it’s open..” he said, signaling the others to come in.

As the four teens and on child enter the collage, it’s pitch black. “I can’t see a thing.” Dani stated, her eyes trying to adjust to the darkness.

“Well there’s a light switch around here somewhere.” Matt said, carefully trying to find his way around the place.

Y/n found a display of lighters and picked one up, flicking the light on, giving them a small glow so they could see a little. “I found a lighter.” She said, going over to Matt to help him find the light switch. Once it was found, Matt turned it on.

Y/n blinked a couple times and let her eyes adjust to the bright lights of the cottage. “That’s better.” She said, flicking the lighter off then pocketing it.

As the group looked around at the Sanderson sister’s old things, unbeknownst to them, Something watches them from outside the house, watching every move they made. Almost as if it was guarding the house.

“Here’s the original cauldron, and upstairs is where they slept.” Nick said, playing tour guide as he pointed to each thing. They move over to where the ‘book’ is in a display case.

“This is the spell book of Winifred Sanderson. It was given to her by the devil himself. The book is bound in human skin and contains the recipes for her most powerful and evil spells.” Nick explained. It was obvious he was the most knowledgeable about this stuff, so Chris and Matt let him play the lead. He just got so excited about this stuff.

Dani on the other hand, seemed to be a bit freaked out by all the which artifacts. “I get the picture.” She said. As Nick continued to explain the stories to her, a certain candle caught the attention of y/n.

“What’s that?” She asked, looking at Chris.

“Oh.” He said, the leaned into y/n and whispered. “that’s the black flame candle.” He said, trying to freak her out a bit.

She went over and read the sign by the candle “Black Flame Candle. Made from the fat of a hangman. Legend says that on a full moon it will raise the spirits of the dead when lit by a virgin on Halloween light.” She then pulled the lighter out of her pocket. “So let’s light the sucker and meet the old bats..” she turned to Chris. “Wanna do the honors?” She asked him.

“No thanks.” Chris said, immediately shaking his head. Nick turned his head and looked over at y/n, who was standing by the candle and messing with the lighter.

“Hey don’t go messing with that are you crazy?” He walked over to her as she was still holding the flame a little too close to the wick of the candle.

“Oh so you’re saying I shouldn’t put it any closer?” She egged on, moving to light the candle, but then her arm was immediately attacked by a black cat. She shrieked in shock and pain as the cat’s claws scratched her.

Chris immediately grabbed the cat and was able to get it off her, then putting them down, making them scurry away. “Where the hell did that come from? Jesus are you okay?” He asked, walking over to y/n to see if she was alright. He took her arm into his hands gently, seeing the claw marks on the sleeve of her jacket.

She couldn’t help but feel her cheeks heat up when he touched her, but it wasn’t just that he was touching her, it was the genuine concern that he had for her that was making her fall for him more than she already was.

She snapped out of her thoughts and nodded. “Yeah..I don’t think they drew blood so we’re good.” She said, catching her breath a little. He nodded, taking his hand away from her arm.

Dani, on the other hand, was now slightly panicked. “Okay, y/n, you’ve had your fun. It’s time to go. Come on, guys..” she said to the group.

The boys looked at one another and seemed to agree.

“Y/n, she’s right, let’s go.” Nick said.

“Yeah and we’re technically not even supposed to be here..” Matt interjected.

Y/n scoffed, flicking on the lighter once more. “Oh, come on, it’s just a bunch of hocus pocus.”she lights the candle and the flame turns black. Her face immediately dropped. “Uh oh.”

Suddenly the flames of the chandelier pop. The floor boards under their feet begin to move as a green light shines from below. Suddenly it stops. Once it was quiet, everyone looked at each other, unsure of what to say next.

“What happened?” Y/n asked, wondering if this was all just some sick prank, that the boys had set up.

“A virgin lit the candle….”

Taglist: @keerahsturn @fratbrochrisgf @izzykinzz678 @st7rnioioss @jamiesturniolo @v33angel @kaisturni @valkatriee @sturnschrissy @moonk1ss3d @bsham14

[sadhours]

the diner - part two

billy hargrove x fem!reader

cw: 18+ minors dni, stalking, murder, toxic relationship, trauma, hallucinations, flayed!billy, peeping Tom, horror

He survived. Somehow— someway. Billy survived. Took care of what he should have so long ago. But that monster lingers, still alive within him.

You’re an innocent girl who works next door to him and he can’t help himself. Could you help him or is he too sick?

part one

read on ao3

Billy is his name. It’s embroidered on his coveralls. He’s caught your attention but there’s something very off about him. You’ve grown up here. People don’t move here but he did. And you can’t figure out why. But there has to be a reason. He’s trying not to be found, he’s got to be escaping something. The guy looks like he’s hiding. No one can offer much information about him. The folks who have talked to him can’t pull any from him.

It seems as if he keeps to himself. He shows up at places you go but he’s always alone and doesn’t really talk to anyone. Like, okay, the bar. There’s one bar in this town and you’ve seen him there several times. While you’re chitchatting with locals, he’s sat at the bar. Smokes and smokes and downs beers and shots but he doesn’t fucking talk. You try hard not to watch him but you look. And he’s always staring at the bar, mess of blonde curls hiding his face. His hair is long, choppy layers but it’s past his shoulders and kind of big. It’s confusing because… the dudes handsome. Has a real pretty face though he always looks exhausted— like he’s seen horrific things. You’ve begged the bartender, Lacey, to tell you the conversations they’ve had but she insists he doesn’t talk much. She has told you that he comes in a lot. And even those nights when it’s just been him and her alone in the bar, he’s quiet. But he plays music on the jukebox. You asked what he plays and it tells you something but nothing of substance. The guy likes his hair metal and Hendrix.

And one time she asked him to kill a spider. But he didn’t. He laid out his hand, let the spider crawl onto his fingers and carried it outside. You like that story because you think it gives you insight into the stranger. Tells you something he or no one else can’t.

The owner of Route One Garage is a close friend. Your dad’s buddy, named Pete. He comes into the diner daily but he can’t give you anymore information. Tells you only the things everyone knows. That he’s from California and he’s really good with cars. Pete says he’s quiet, keeps to himself and that he doesn’t talk about himself— ever. Offers opinions about superficial stuff. He likes Marlboro Reds and Ole’ Colonial beer. Says he used to have a Camaro but it was wrecked in an accident. Won’t give any details of the accident.

Other than that, Manuel Gomez says he frequents his restaurant— that he loves Mexican food, and asks for the extra spicy stuff. Manuel says he even knows some Spanish, but if he’s from Southern California, that makes sense and isn’t really helpful in getting to know the stranger. And you’re really trying not to obsess over it, but he just has you so incredibly curious. You wonder if he’s lonely. You are and this own town is like family.

He comes in kind of early. 10 pm instead of after midnight. Something tells you to dig deep. So when he sits, lights his cigarette and stares down at the table, you slip into the booth across from him. You grab the menu and open it, purse your lips as you look through it and as you glance up at him, he looks uncomfortable.

Billy asks you, “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to decide what you’re gonna eat today,” you answer with a shrug but you’re determined to learn more about him. Even if it’s through food. “You like sandwiches?”

“Does anyone not like sandwiches?” he replies, but he’s fidgeting— like he’s uncomfortable.

You nod and meet his eyeline, “Yeah. Some dudes get offended when I suggest sandwiches.”

“How is that possible? It’s like, the least offensive food.”

“I don’t like eggs,” you shrug, “Everyone has preferences.”

Billy’s face looks cute. Looking at you with his brows knit, bright blue eyes all confused. “You don’t like eggs? Why?”

“They’re bouncy and they stink,” you offer easily. You’ve despised them your whole life.

“Your job must be real difficult if you don’t like the smell of eggs,” he responds and he still doesn’t exactly meet your eyes.

You make a face as you flip the page of the menu, “You’ve got no idea. If they’re not drowned in cheese, I have to try really hard not to gag.”

“My dad— I can’t eat them scrabbled because that’s the only thing he knew how to cook.”

Aha. Information. He has a family. But he said knew not knows. Maybe his dad is dead.

“Noted, I don’t know if over easy is any better though,” you tell him as you scan the menu. “Our pot roast is pretty good.”

“It’s the morning. Do people usually eat pot roast for breakfast?”

That’s a good point.

“Do you like pancakes?” you ask, then.

Billy shrugs, “Yeah, I mean they’re fine but they’re not healthy.”

“Okay, so you’re health conscious but you chain smoke cigarettes,” you laugh softly. “Maybe some oatmeal and yogurt?”

He sighs, snatches the menu from you and closes it. “How about you get me the breakfast I always get? And how about you don’t fucking question it?”

The shift is brutal and you’re suddenly really embarrassed about sliding into the booth and trying to get to know him. You slide out without another word and put in his order. Fill his coffee cup without a word. Serve him his breakfast and don’t say a single thing to him. You’ve learned from this— learned his a fucking asshole.

You’re relieved when he leaves. Recount the story to your coworkers but they excuse him.

“Yeah,” Becky scoffs, “The guy’s a fucking weirdo. Why are you trying to talk to him?”

“He comes in literally every time I work,” you argue, “Why wouldn’t I try to like, talk to him?”

Becky’s face grimaces, “You don’t think he’s a weirdo? He’s dirty and he doesn’t make eye contact. Besides… I think he’s pretty creepy.”

Creepy isn’t a way you’d describe him. And based off what Becky says next, you think she could read your face.

“He’s moved here suddenly, doesn’t have any friends— like seriously, he doesn’t talk to anyone. He works in that place and then what? He’s probably a serial killer or something,” Becky’s face is contorted in disgust.

You chew on your bottom lip, “I think he’s kind of cute…”

“They thought Ted Bundy was hot,” Becky argues, “Seriously. He’s not hideous but he’s a weirdo. He’s definitely got skeletons in his closet— literally.”

—

That night, you go to the bar. You have tomorrow off so it’s routine. You meet your friends there. And like clockwork, Billy walks in about thirty minutes after you get there. You can feel his eyes on you and you think maybe he’s still upset about earlier today. So after a round of shots, you approach him.

“I’m sorry about earlier. That was weird,” you rush out, feeling the heat from the tequila, “I don’t usually sit with patrons and pry like that— but, like, this is a small ass town and we don’t have people move here. I know everyone here, so I was just trying to get to know you.”

His response is cold, “You don’t wanna know me.”

And it’s so far from reality. But it feels like a warning. You look down and see how his wrists have these deep scars. Purple and red rough skin, wrapped around the limbs. He notices, pulls down the sleeves of his denim jacket to hide them.

Snarls his teeth and tells you, “Get lost.”

You wanna push him off the barstool, tell him he’s the one who needs to get lost. But you don’t. You swallow the lump in your throat and retreat. Get back to your friends and try to the into the pretty, blonde stranger with a bad fucking additude but you feel his eyes on you. And you do your best to ignore the dreadful feeling that sits in your stomach, try not to recognize it as fear. It feels charged suddenly and you’re scared. So you drink, down another shot or two until it fizzles out. Play some pool with your friends.

As the night goes on, one by one your friends leave until it’s just you and Billy and Lacey. But he doesn’t talk to you. You converse with Lacey for a while until you get sleepy. After saying goodbye, you stumble to your car and can’t help but feeling like you’re being followed. Ignoring it, you make your way home. Lock your doors when you get inside and bypass the bathroom, too tired and go to your bedroom. You lay down for a beat, eyes glued to your window. That feeling— being watched is heavy on you. And you get up, rush to the window and pull up the blinds. Cup your hands on the glass as you peer through. See the eyes watching you, then the person runs. The harder you look, the more you can make out the blonde curls.

—

Billy doesn’t come into the diner. Which you’re glad. The day after you were certain you’d seen him peeking into your window, you’d sat on the couch. Unable to sleep. Held yourself in fear, panicked as you kept checking all the windows. And you know you should tell someone but for some reason, you don’t.

As you work, you keep looking towards the rundown mechanic shop next door. Some part of you expects him to be standing at the big window, staring back at you. But he doesn’t.

You’re confused and scared. You decide it’s best to stay at your parents house for the next two weeks. But you lie to them, just say there’s an issue with your plumbing. And when Billy doesn’t come into the dinner for those two weeks, you figure it’s fine to return home.

[euryvices]

weird things about my town that lowkey remind me of tma

god, this is going to be a long post.

okay so. i grew up in a town in the middle east (about 200 people), with my bestfriend Whom I Will Not Shut The Fuck Up about apparently, and it was a strikingly different experience to most people who've grown up in the middle east, or in america. it was yk, a rich people town, populated and run mostly by generational wealth owners. as a result, our town was very hush-hush, despite it being in the Crackass Of Nowhere.

i started listening to tmagp about two months back, under the instructions (*cough cough coercion cough cough*) of my lovely moots (im looking at you @forflightlessbirds and @need-a-name-101) i've noticed a few things which may be...off.

the first thing i need to clarify are the rules. we had five of them, that nobody really stuck to, but we all knew of. the rules in and of themselves are normal things any parent tells their child, but weirdly specific. there weren't really any repercussions if we didn't stick to the rules - but most of the time, we didn't like breaking them. they were, as follows :

don't tell strangers your real name, and if you do, run and tell the head of the community center.

if people approach you about 'coming to god' (i.e, christian/muslim/jewish missionaries) tell them god has moved.

do Not enter the junkyard at night. (we broke this one)

always carry a knife. most of us were given jade knives, but my bestfriend got a gold one. ive teased him about it most of our lives, even after we shifted.

take a buddy with you everywhere, and if you can't find one, don't go out.

me and my brother have broken all these rules about once at least, except for the knife one and the junkyard. me and my bestfriend broke the junkyard one though. we shifted together when we were barely teens. first, we lived in the uk, then in the states. we headed back home and barely spoke for a year before he died, at the ripe old age of 17. i miss him, but thats not the point.

it was only after we moved, that we realized how truly Fucked Up our town was. we were living in the middle of war ravaged county, and we had swimming pools, and ipads, and sunset cocktails? obviously i didn't realise it as a kid, as a pre-teen even - but looking at it from the outside feels like a gut punch.

now here's where im going to yap about the similarities between tma and my shitstorm of a childhood and hopefully Will Not Piss Anyone Off. if you're from my town - you'll know exactly what im talking about, and i seriously hope you reach out and/or message me.

the things everyone knows the things. they're just. there. kinda like the bogeyman your mom scares you with when you don't eat lunch except most of us have just accepted that they're real

old man hanna if you've lived here, you know him. he's weird, he's kooky, and he's got a million books and tape recorders and vinyls. he's maybe the only person in that place that doesn't come from money. he hates electronics, says they can't capture things the way old school stuff does

the graves now, our town is mainly christian. uber arab christian. we've got graves, we've got cemeteries. but outside it, on the outskirts, lie a long line of unmarked graves. are they from the arab-israeli war? the gulf war? lord knows

the 2015 blackout this was the creepiest thing that happened here. the blackout, and then the radio stations playing that reading of the bible? my parents shut everything off and rushed me and bulos to the master bedroom

the skydiving institute i have no idea if the government approved this godforsaken place, but it was there. it led to the disappearance of nahren, who was deathly afraid of heights but she said she was ready to face her fears

the church when i shifted to the uk, i saw the proceedings of the greek orthodox church there. and let me tell you - it's so different to our church. for starters, our church doesn't even seem to have any affiliation to the goc, even though it should?? the entire thing is so different

the pond now this is rather controversial. our town's pond was created in the early 70's, but no one knows How or Why. realistically, there shouldn't have been any water supply that far inland. and the water should not be that salty. we don't acknowledge it, and no one drinks from it, even if its really hot. there's a sign outside that asks parents to hold their children tightly when passing by the pond

the soldiers they're mainly american (at least the one i met was), but they rarely enter our town. and when they do, they can only stay in one specific motel - we're not allowed to talk to them. once i did, though. im still...fucked up from it

there's a lot more, but i don't think y'all wanna know about my fucked up town anymore. just writing this is giving me the heebie-jeebies.

we usually aren't allowed to leave our town once we're in it. but my dad got special permission for us to leave, before the divorce. so we did. and then my parents got divorced. which made our family Not Happy, so we weren't exactly welcomed back.

that being said, i don't think there's anything really wrong with my town. it's just a bit...different. and i love it. even if it doesn't seem to love me right now.

god, i think i need to go lay down. i hate remembering all this.

[rockybloo]

You joked yesterday about the Bitterbat/Sweetheart romance having "chaotically problematic" aspects, and I was curious if you could expand on that. TBH so far, they don't really seem especially unhealthy towards one another and as far as I can tell, it's not like Amara is letting Bitterbat kill/hurt innocents.

The chaotically problematic aspects come from how they are just a romanticization of stalking and obsession.

Bitterbat is a yandere. He'd never hurt Sweetheart - that is the biggest rule of writing him. Even when they do their mock battles, he may scratch her up some but that's only because she explicitly told him to beforehand.

Bitterbat is madly in love with Sweetheart. He thinks about her every hour of the day. He wears her clothes, occasionally swipes her underwear, watches her sleep, follows her damn near everywhere she goes, and knows whenever she is thinking of him. And god forbid he ever discovers someone has done her wrong. He'd show them there are worse fates than death.

And Sweetheart finds this behavior absolutely adorable. She gets butterflies in her stomach knowing Bitterbat does this typa stuff. She absolutely fangirls and squeals.

Her reaction isn't the result of delusion, just like Bitterbat's obsession with her isn't the result of him not being in his right mind.

BOTH are self aware and know their behavior goes against the norm. BOTH do not care. They used to, but then they realized that life isn't as fun when they hold back. So they just dropped the restraints. This is their love language - if the world doesn't like it - it can fuck off. One of them is keeping it safe, and one of them is showing it mercy.

Sweetheart sees some clothes go missing, she immediately knows Bitterbat swiped them and asks him if he could return some specific ones by (insert date) because she has an event she has to go to and she had an outfit she was planning on wearing.

She notices him following her while she is on her college campus and she orders two frozen yogurt cups so he can sneak on over while he is his itty bitty self and enjoy a treat with her before she goes to class. HELL, sometimes she just notices him following her and beckons him over so she can scoop him up while he is itty bitty and slip him right into her bra so he can ride along with her throughout the day.

And whenever she feels his eyes on her whenever she's resting, she sleeps a little more soundly since she knows he won't let anything bad happen to her both in the outside world and her dreams (since Bitterbat can enter dreams - he only does such with Sweetheart's tho)

There's more examples but basically, I have absolutely no interest in writing a "yandere creeps out their crush" story. We have so many of those and, while it makes sense a lot of people enjoy that type of story, I find more fun in flipping it on its head.

The concept of a female character who is decked out in the most lovecore fit, designated as a defender of love, deemed to be a role model and the ideal heroine, being down bad and matching the freak of her obsessive villainous boyfriend who causes deaths so gruesome, it'd make a slasher flinch, just scrubs my brain right.

It fills in the gaps I always feel when I see any series and spot a villain crushing on a heroine who ain't into them.

Glitter and Guilt is basically just a "What if the heroine WAS into it tho?" story.

[norgeant]

Thinking about indie music artist logan and drummer in big well known band lando

Yapping outside of the tags this time 😼:

- Lando watches from back stage because too many people would recognise him at the random ass music gig Logan got

- Logan refuses to get any explicit help from Lando because even though he could get sponsored/funded millions, it just wouldn't be right

- Logan plays the guitar (acoustic or electric?) and a little bit of the keyboard

- Logan doesn't usually sing in his own songs because he's too embarrassed, Lando thinks his voice is beautiful

- Logan collabs often with other small music artists because he needs a someone to sing the lyrics

- would Lando take Logan on his tours and stuff? Busy schedules so maybe they're long distance half the time too? Maybe Lando can't make it to a lot of Logan's gigs but when he does Logan becomes so much more confident

- Ugh idk who to have in Lando's band! Like, it's a got to be a rock band or something right? So maybe Daniel? Maybe maybe Max (it's just gonna end up being all of Lando's friends fr 😭)

- I'm debating whether I like the idea of norgeant being a secret relationship type thing, like obviously the public doesn't know but what if Lando's band mates don't know either??

- ^ bc if the band mates know then when Logan is at a concert/show, he'd be back stage or vip, but if they didn't know (or Logan wanted to be treated like a regular fan like everyone else) then he would be in the crowd and Lando would notice or try and find him in the sea of ppl

- there's a handful of Logan fans that swear they saw norgeant together and are a mixture of confused, amazed and shocked by it

- Guys I forgot the band needs a band name plus Lando isn't the "leader" I overthought and yet didn't think enough at the same time

- I can't just say fuck it and name it McLaren, Red Bull etc. its gotta be good! And obviously it's got to be a reference to something f1/quote/meme related because underneath it all I'm still a basic bitch

- okay throwback to when Jenson asked for Daniel's autograph , that with norgeant! Lando at the meet and greets and shit and Logan is in line and when he gets to the front they have this subtle (*cough* not subtle at all but ppl just assume it's the average flirty/passive aggressive fan *cough*) flirty/inside joke banter:

"Are you free tonight...?" ;)

"Unlucky, mate, going to some fancy restaurant with this random person"

"Wow this random person must be lucky to have a boyfriend as "nice" as you"

"Yeah, well, they'll be lucky enough to get dessert as long as they don't order any seafood"

"Do you want a good luck kiss with that wish?" :3

🦅 RAHHHHH THE NORGEANT BRAINROT ‼️

I WILL be back to edit this each time I think of smth new to add and I'll even put little dates whenever I update bc thats on being organised for once 🗣️🗣️🗣️

[romana-after-dark]

Rooms on Fire: Losing My Religion

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader

Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader

Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna has to make a stand.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

Extra warnings for chapter: Pretty standard tbh

3.6k words

A/N Please know tags have been spotty so check and make sure you're caught up!

"That's me in the corner That's me in the spot-light Losing my religion Trying to keep up with you And I don't know if I can do it Oh no I've said too much I haven't said enough I thought that I heard you laughing I thought that I heard you sing I think I thought I saw you try." ~Losing my Religion, R.E.M

“Will, take her.” Santiago orders Will, and the stronger man tries to take you away from where you cling to Frankie.

Frankie, however, steps away. “No! You aren’t taking her from me!” He looks back and forth between Will, Ben, and Santi. Through the silence, they can all here Iris wailing over Rey’s body in the kitchen. “You’re all fucking insane! None of you get her!”

Ben scoffs. “She doesn’t belong to you, Frank.”

“YES SHE DOES! She’s my WIFE!”

Will steps forward, taking a hand on your leg assertively, looking Frankie in the eyes. His dominance quells the room. “She’s my wife too, Frankie. Let me take her.” In a lower voice, he adds just to Frankie. “It’s gonna be easier if you just go, you know that. I’ll take care of her. I promise.”

Frankie glances at Santi, rage bubbling in him. Will was right. “Sent someone to get Rey’s body, help Iris move him. She’s… she’s not gonna wanna leave his body. We are not making her clean up his blood the way she did Jonah’s, got it?” Francisco rarely spoke this firmly… but he cared about Iris and he wanted Rey’s body respected.

“I will, I promise.” Frankie watched as you left the room in Will’s arms, crying into his chest.

*

Francisco was dragged down the halls, Ben trailing after then after being told to follow, Santi yanking along Frankie’s still-soar arm.

“Show down! Ow!”

“Shut the fuck up!” When they got to Frankie’s bedroom, Santi told Ben to stay outside until he was called. When the door closed, he delivered a crisp slap across Frankie’s face.

“Shit!” Frankie cried, holding his face and tasting blood.

Grabbing his shirt, Santi shoves Ben against the door, making sure Ben hears every Santi is doing to Frankie that he can’t stop. 

“Don’t you EVER disrespect me like that again!” He screams, slapping Frankie again and making his head lul to the side. “I AM YOUR GOD!”

Frankie shoves him back. “YOU”RE MY BROTHER! This whole thing is FUCKED Santi!”

Santi went for Frankie’s shirt, tearing at the fabric and buttons as Frankie tried to fight him off. There was a scuffle, slaps to faces and arms and chest before his shirt was pulled off him, showing the scars on Frankie’s arms. Scars that matched Santi’s. Neatly in a line, they were scabbed and new, bruising still around the wounds, each an inch or two long. Santiago pressed their arms together. 

“Blood brothers, Frank. Blood brothers. You were made for me, I was made for you, you know that, don’t you?”

Frankie winces at the memory, how Santiago laid him down with a knife, cut into their skin together until they bled. On a bed of blood they fucked, sealing their commitment to each other, or that’s what Santi thought the ritual meant. The whole time, Frankie tried to imagine it was Ben.

Santi didn’t let go of his arm, fingers tracing up and down the scarred skin, picking at a scab until it bled. “You’re mine, Frank. Certainly not Madonna’s. She’s here to have our child. And you’re not Ben’s either.”

His eyes went wide at that, going into defense. Deny, deny, deny, or Ben would be dead.

“Santi, no, we’re not- AH!” Santiago ripped the scab, causing blood to spill out.

“Don’t lie to me! I know you fuck him behind my back. Is that why you care so much about Saha? You fucking him too, just like Madonna?”

Bent over in pain holding his arms, Frankie looks up at Santi in anguish, tears in his eyes as he screams. “HE WAS MY FRIEND! HE WAS HERS! FOR FUCK SAKE SANTIAGO NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT SEX!” He stood up straight, speaking strong even as he cried. “He loved Iris! He loved Iris only and Ben killed him! That girl lost her father and now is sobbing because of her lover's dead body!”

Santiago scoffs. “That’s your fucking boy toy, not mine. I don’t control Ben.”

“That’s the problem! You and Beatri indulged his every whim, Will protected him from any consequence and now he’s a spoiled slut!”

“And what do you think you are? You live in comfort, in excess even, you get fucked by me, Ben, Will, even sliding your cock into Madonna’s little cunt for hours in those meadows because I allow it! You’re just a cockdumb, petulant child who's mad because the world isn’t perfect! You’re no better.”

Frankie locked his jaw, staring hard. “Yes, I am.”

When Santi closed in on him, Frankie braced for impact. Instead, when their bodies were crowded together, Santi simply opened the door. Ben sat there ont he floor, legs pulled up to his chest like a child whose parents were fighting, looking up at the door with wide blue eyes.

“You hear all that, Benny?”

Ben blinked, “Yeah.” He stands up, his long legs wobbly.

“Ben…” Frankie wanted to say he didn’t mean it, they were all fucked… but Rey’s blood still covered him. It was an odd sight on a boy who looked so young and innocent when he really wanted too. Or needed to.

Terror filled him, afraid Santi was going to hurt Benny, and despite just watching him kill a man in cold blood Frankie felt the need to protect him. He looked so much like that young underweight half-frozen boy in Will’s arms so many years ago. What happened to them all?

Instead of harming him, Santi beconned him in the room and kissed him so tenderly, Frankie hasn’t seen it since they were teens promising to be different from Beatriz. 

Ben made no effort to rebuff. He was taken aback at first of course, this was not the response they were expecting from him. He locked eyes with Frankie as Santi deepened the kiss, and narrows his eyes at his lover. Ben does not take kindly to being insulted. Arms snake around Santi’s middle, Ben grinding his cock against Santi’s stomach, moaning into his mouth. Frankie heard drops of blood drip from his arm into the wood floor. He needed to wrap it up. Instead, Santi told Frankie to get in the chair. 

*

It took everything in Santi to not watch Frankie watching them. To not see his face as he slid inside Ben’s asshole, to not see how much it pissed him off when he made the younger man moan as he sucked on a nipple. He didn’t need to look, however, because he knew, he knew just how badly it was angering Frankie, how it hurt him. Santi fucked Ben the way he knew Frankie liked, slow and tender, lots of kisses. He knew Frankie longed for those soft days so long ago, teenagers sneaking around, falling in love in closets and up in trees. Before Madonna came and fucked everything up.

That’s why they were made for each other. Raised together, brothers, as close and two people could get. From the craddle to the grave, Francisco Morales belonged to him. They were meant to be, their bodies were created by Beatriz to fit together, to bring each other pleasure. Frankie was his eve, the mother, the god of nature and fertility and-WHY COULDNT HE GET PREGNANT?!??!? None of this would have happened if Mother God had allowed them this, if he could fill his lover with his hot seed and create the savior Santiago couldn’t be. They could birth the savior together, Mary and Joseph, Frankie as the Madonna instead of that cunt causing all the problems. 

Santi was sure not to harm Ben, opening him up slowly as the boy moaned like a slut with his asshole clenching on Santi’s tongue, fingers poking their way inside in contrast to the way he liked to ram into Frankies cunt. 

Ben was so tender, so sensitive, his cockhead beat red and slick with precum as Santi slid his thumb around it. He repeatedly pulled back the skin, making Ben moan in wonton madness. He gave Ben the gentle love making he knew his Frank desired, the kind of soft touches Santi hadn’t been giving lately. No, ever since Madonna came he was ravenous. He didn’t like watching anyone inside Frankie, making exceptions on occasion for Will and Ben because he thought he could trust them.

Despite not being threatened or even ordered to watch, when Santiago turned to the chair he saw Frankie watching. santi knew Frankie liked to be watched, liked to be heard, so he wondered how being put as the watcher affected him. Frankie’s face was set into a hard glare, eyes red and burning with tears and his knuckles going white with clenched fists.

Still, his cock was hard in his pants.

*

You cried. And cried. And cried. 

Hysterics paused only long enough for Will to occasionally get some water in you as he held you close. It had been hours at this point, unsure what is happening to Francisco, what was happening to Iris, what would happen to Rey’s body.

Dead. He was dead. Your best friend was dead, Jonah was dead and Iris hated you. Everything was over now. You hold your stomach, realizing how disconnected you were from this baby in you. At month 7, there was a whole child and yet you felt like… like it was in you, not a part of you. There, not connected. You loved the baby, of course you did, you were its mom but… why didn’t you feel like it? Lately, you’d felt like you were just… here to do a job.

Eventually you calmed down, exhausted from the hysterics, and Will held you close to his chest. He calmed you down slowly, gentle hands brushing over your body. You could not fathom how the hands you’ve felt healing your body were the same as the fist that beat Jonah to death.

“Will?” You ask, listening to the beat of his heart. It was strong.

“Yes, my Madonna?”

“What happens now?” You couldn’t tell if he was pausing to think or in confusion, so you elaborate. “Jonah is dead. Rey is dead. I can never see Santi and Ben the same again-”

He sat up a bit to look at you. “You forgave Santi?”

Was Will really this naive? Really? Santiago had violently raped you, allowed your pregnant body to be burned and Will thought you forgave him? You and your baby could have died, and he thought you forgave him? Will was who you trusted. No matter what happened, you’d always trusted your Will, your smart handsome brave husband, your God of War and Medicine, your protection and your healing. 

You can hear Jonah’s voice in your head, begging you to have a shred of survival instinct, to trust your gut.

For the first time, you lie to him.

“I did…” You fib, just a little. “It’s just been a lot lately and… he did something bad. I just can’t forget all of that.”

He nods in understanding. “I get it…  I do.” His fingertips trail over your scarred skin. “To answer your question… I don’t know. I really don’t but… we’re married, we all love you and I know, I know Ben messed up today…”

Messed up? Ben killed your Rey, an innocent man. Your friend. Frankie’s friend. Dead and cut up on the kitchen floor where Iris, for all you know, is still sobbing.

You feel the walls coming up around Will. 

He continues. “But we’ll find a way to move on as a family.”

You were not a family with these people.

“Yeah, yeah okay.” 

*

Iris fell asleep on the floor, durk curls caking in blood as she rested on her lover's stabbed-open chest. It didn't matter. She wasn’t going to get up.

They won. Those fuckers won.

Santiago had beaten her into submission, cutting up parts of her she’d never had the chance to show Reyansh.

Ben raped her for years and years and year and Iris managed to hold on because she had Reyansh and to a certain extent Jonah. Jonah was disappointing, Jonah’s shortcomings were clear and she would never forgive what he tried to do to that poor girl, whatever it was, but the day he died she lost one more person.

But Iris wouldn’t clean up Reyansh’s blood the way she had to Jonah’s. She’d die here in his arms. If Ben wanted to touch her again, he could fuck her dead, rotting corpse. Iris doubted Ben would let anything as simple as death set her free.

*

When she woke up, she was being pulled away from Rey’s dead body. Iris screamed, but that didn’t matter to anyone anymore. Another few guards start pulling Rey’s body away, congealed blood dragging out from under him, and that’s when Iris started fighting. They couldn’t take him. They couldn’t have him. He was hers.

“I’m sorry.” The guard behind her said. Scott, a nice, naive young man. Many guards were loyal to Santi above all else, but Will held the most control. Still, Rey was well liked. With the exception of those who were hardcore true believers amongst the guard who knew Santi’s recent turn on Reyansh, Iris had no doubt they were, actually sorry. It didn’t change the fact she was being separated from her lover even in death.

*

“Just do what he says” Frankie tells Iris, hands planted firmly on her shoulders, eyes intently boring into hers. “He’s gonna fucking kill me for coming down here but Iris, you have to just do it.”

Her eyes burned with tears of anger as she stood near the door to the backyard, underneath the balcony. “What’s happening, Frankie.”

He closed his eyes a moment as he heard the door unlocking. “I can’t lose you too, Iris. Please. I need you with me. I don’t have Jonah, I don’t have Rey-”

“I don’t either!” Iris spat. “What makes you think I want to live after watching that?” It had been hours since she watched her rapist stab her Rey to death, powerless as Frankie held her back. Ben would have killed her too. Should have. 

“I need help! I can’t keep her alive alone, Iris! We have to be a team, for each other, for Madonna, for our ch-”

The door opened, Will bringing Madonna down with a guard. You looked awful. He hadn’t seen you since Will took you away, dealing with Santi’s shit… Blood was still on your nightgown.

“Madonna…” Frankie was no longer pleaded with Iris, went to hug his wife. Will instructed the guard not to harm Madonna in the slightest, and Iris appreciated Frankie’s addendum not to hurt her either, but Iris knew she was a second thought.

“Francisco, what’s happening?” Your hands pressed to his chest, looking up at him. 

Frankie told you the same thing he told her, to just do as we’re told and it would be okay. Iris had a sick, sick feeling. “Trust me.” He said, hugging her. He looked at Iris. “Please.” Then made his exit with Will. Iris heard crowds outside, and wondered what sick, perverted show Santi was going to make you do now? Would he make you hurt her? That was fine by Iris. 

You turned to her, those scared eyes chipping away at the ice in her heart. Iris knew you didn’t mean to get Rey killed, and blaming you for Jonah’s death was unfair and cruel… but she needed to be angry. 

“Iris…” You whimper, wet eyes trickling tears down your pretty face. You held your stomach in fear.

When the door opens, you and Iris are quickly ushered out into the courtyard where hundreds of people looked on. Taking in the scene, Iris heard your heavy breathing. What she didn’t need, was you having a panic attack… When she turned to see your horror stricken face, Iris couldn’t help feel that ice melt a little more. Fuck, you were young. 23, just a child. You deserved better. Iris took your hand.

But you were looking past her. “Iris…” You said with wide eyes. Iris turned around.

On the courtyard, Rey’s body was tied to an X on top of a funeral pyre, strung up and limp and lifeless. She felt sick to her stomach, turning up towards where the four wanna be gods sat upon their ivory tower, daring to look upon her love. She couldn’t read their expressions, but watched as someone lit the pyre. Reyansh’s body went up in flames.

Santiago spoke not to them, but to the crowd. “Reyash Saha is guilty of high treason! As is custom, those closest must dance as he burns. Not even the Madonna is above the will of Divine Mother.”

He emphasized those last words, Iris knew, to put you in your place. You weren’t a goddess to him, you weren’t his mommy dearest. You were a womb.

The music started up.

“DAAAANCE!!!!” He screamed down to you both, and as the smell of burnt flesh filled the yard, you began to dance. It was scared, it was erratic, it was for your life and the life of your child. Iris understood that fear. But she wasn’t going to dance. It’s been a while since the last public burning, 2 years, she thinks, but she’d been at plenty, danced in several. This is not how it was done.

Firstly, this was supposed to be execution. You didn’t burn dead bodies. If a traitor was dead already, the close family and friends were questioned but there was no grand show.

If this were a proper burning, there was a ceremony, there were prayers to Divine Mother, chants.

The yard would be filled with everyone the traitor knew. Most of the guardsmen would be here for Reyansh, the house laborers, townsfolk… not just trying to terrifying to women. If the Madonna isn’t above it, Francisco shouldn’t be either.

No, this was just a show for the girl.

“Iris!” You grab onto her. “You need to dance!” Your words were broken and desperte, but Iris shrugged you off. “PLEASE!” You sob, grabbing her hands to force her but Iris shoved you back.

“I WON”T BE MADE TO DANCE AS MY HUSBAND BURNS!”

“But-” You reach for her, but she slaps your hand away. If the guard cared about the abuse of the Madonna, they didn’t care. The music was too loud to hear even shouting.

“Tell me, is there anything in the world that could convince you to dance as Frankie burned?” The image horrified you, but you remained resolute.

“My baby! Please I know you can’t understand but I need you, I can’t lose anyone else- IRIS PLEASE JUST DANCE!” You scream, pulling on her.

Iris grabbed your shoulders, stopping you. “I’m pregnant too.”

You were frozen in stunned silence. “You… Rey…”

But Iris shakes her head. “I never had sex with him. Ben fucked everyone under the sun and I didn’t wanna chance giving him anything… But I told him, I broke down and told him… he’d figured it out.” Iris feels the tears coming, but forces them down. Don’t let them see you cry. Hadn’t she told you that before? “Rey said… said he’d raise it as his own. That he’d take me away and now he’s dead. And those men up there-” She pointed to the balcony. “Are why. I won’t tell you what to do, because you have your own child to think of, you are much further along, but me?” She pointed to her chest covered in Rey’s blood. “I refuse to give them anymore satisfaction. They cannot take my dignity. I simply won’t let them.”

*

Santiago watched from the balcony, smug as Madonna started dancing. Jesus she was pathetic. He expected Iris to not dance, giving him a reason to kill the brat finally. Maybe he’d take her for a little spin to see what Benny was so gunho about. But Madonna? Weak little thing like that had been trying to play big girl recently, acting tough, testing her boundaries like a fucking teenager and thinking her status protected her. It didn’t. But look at her now, dancing around as her best and probably only friend burned, just like she did, just like her paintings, just like her dad. 

It was amusing watching you try to save Iris. Your empathy was something that he was attracted to. You were sweet, he liked watching you paint. If you had behaved, he could have lived a whole life with you here with him, his Madonna, raising the savior for his roll… But no, you had to have a temper tantrum. You had to whore around as if 4 cocks weren’t enough. And yet, when it came time to really be brave…. You were like a little puppet on a string and he could toy with you as much as he-

What were you doing?

“Santi…”  Francisco tried to sooth as Santi’s knuckles turned white, gripping the balcony with a force as the sound of the music swelled around him. You stopped. Iris put her stupid fucking hands on you the way she put her stupid fucking hands on Ben’s body and tainted you. He watched with rage building inside. She was standing too fucking close.

“Will.” Santi barked, not taking his eyes off you two. Will was the most observant. Frankie could be naive and Ben wasn’t paying attention to most things. “Are they fucking?”

He swore he heard Will sigh. “No, Santi. Jesus fucking christ.”

Then they were conspiring against him. The two girls stilled completely. And then they turned around, looking up at him.

Santiago looked right back. They were fucking dead.

Okay!!! were so close to the end! I think it flashback chapter, then the finale might have to be split lololol.

Not a super eventful chapter, but I thought things needed to breathe before the last pieces. Still, I think enough is here to entertain!!

Thank you to everyone who has stuck through all the hiatuses. Ily!!!

If anyone is interested, I just finished my finale of Blessed Be the Fruit which took over a year for a short series. sorry ;-;

anyway its done!

Love you all soooooo much!

If you like Logan Howlett, check out my new series Be Quiet

Poll time!

LOVE YOU ALL!

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[thedisablednaturalist]

I found a great provider that does a ton of integrative care and even does aquatic therapy (its the ONLY place in the area that has an aquatic treadmill) and its all in one building right near my apartment. The only issue is it costs $300-500 per appointment as they are out of network with all insurance companies and I have an HMO plan. I was hoping I could just go there for physical therapy but that's still like $300 per appointment.

Apparently I can petition for a gap exemption since literally no other place has aquatic therapy in my area? but it can be a bitch to get your insurance to approve it

I'm now looking into patient advocacy groups to help with getting me the care I need because at this point I'm fed up with the search. I'm tired of being constantly referred to scam holistic centers and told theres nothing they can do for my pain now pay us $50 dollars. Apparently Myofascial Release Therapy and aquatic therapy would do great for my pain but there's no place that takes insurance that does that.

I found a patient advocacy center but it costs $150 an hour so what's even the point. There is one that is free but its for people with "serious chronic conditions" and idk if they'd consider my chronic pain and spine stuff serious enough.

Im just so tired and i dont have the spoons to do this on my own anymore. I'm paying hundreds a month on insurance but can't get the care I need since its too specialized/out there or theres no specialists near me in network. I thought I picked a PPO plan but apparently not. All this stuff is so confusing and complex and I don't have the mental energy to deal with it all. And you can't ask insurance for advice because they will give you bad advice! bc they dont want to pay for shit!!

I just want to live and stop getting fucked over. I'm tired of the 15 minute appointments that don't do anything for me. That are just so I can get refills of medication. That dont explain everything or look at all my records or listen to me.

Has anyone used a patient advocate outside of a hospital before?

[crimeronan]

according to my phone data, i've walked 12.4 miles over the past seven days :D

[whilomm]

oh okay heres one:

"sleepaway camp"= you go there for at least a few days, a week, sometimes several weeks, and sleep there, as opposed to a """camp""" where you go for the day and your parents or whoever picks you up afterward (those arent really camps, but like. idk when i went to "space camp" it was a weeklong but not sleepaway). in the U.S. at least, the typical image of a sleepaway camp involves staying in cabins, dunno how common it is/what it looks like in other countries.

for the first few i just mean like. not necessarily a stealth church camp, just like. idk, a camp where theres also an Assumption Of Christianity and just general vibes without being actually church camp. So, there might not be daily services and jesusy dedicatwd activities, but maybe theres still a prayer said over meals and shit. Which i assume might exist...

(oh and @reblogforsamplesize if u wanna)

[saltycharacters]

[ID: Digital artwork featuring Shimazaki Ryou from Mob Psycho 100, with some cameos from Serizawa Katsuya and Reigen Arataka. First drawing has Shimazaki in a casual pose as he rests one hand on his hip and the other grasps his white cane. He's wearing a short pink dress with a leather jacket, heels, some pointy jewlery and leggings, smiling smugly. The next image is a rough comic following Shimazaki as he infiltrates Serizawa's home, the text above it stating "Headcanon: Shimazaki likes to teleport into Serizawa's house and steal his food bc he's too nice to stop him". The first panel shows Serizawa flicking the light on, asking in exasperated disbelief, "Shimazaki. Whya re you in my kitchen at 3 am" as Shimazaki casually responds with "Heeeey bud don't mind me just doing a late night food run". Next panel has Serizawa and Reigen sharing a couch as Shimazaki rumages through the kitchen in the background, the words "After Reigen moves in" written near the top. Reigen is facing the kitchen with a confused glare, angrily questioning, "WHY is he in our apartment" while Serizawa stares at the tv in tired acceptance as he responds with "Ignore him". Shimazaki, from the kitchen, inquires "Yo Serizawa did you change the location of the pretzels I can't find them", followed by "3rd cabinet to the left" from Serizawa and a "Thanks" from Shimazaki. End ID]

Shimazaki headcanons for the win

[lil-gingerbread-queen]

Later, Bruce finds him climbing the cave to join the bats.