#something about the bandana mask around his neck

[heavnlyhetfield]

LORD ALMIGHTY

[bi-writes]

mmmm i have thoughts about being threatened because you're simon riley's girl and them realizing that you're not the lady in distress they thought you would be (18+)

it is late when you get to your car. your shoulders sag from a long night at work, and you can't wait to curl up on the couch with something warm to eat and something strong to drink to lull you into a peaceful sleep tonight.

you're alone. he should be home any day now, but you aren't fortunate enough to know when that is. that is how this works, and you accepted that a long time ago. if anything, it made you appreciate the times when he is close, when he is at home. it makes your connection special, and you are comforted by the fact that your bond is more than physical.

your eyes droop, and you don't pay attention to the vehicle three cars behind you that's been tailing you since you left. you press the brake and toe the accelerator on autopilot and memory alone, and you zone out as you cross familiar streets. you think you saw a new movie to watch last night, and you think about how nice it'll be to play it as you cook dinner.

you park in your usual spot, getting out and shutting the door behind you. you open the backseat, grabbing your bag and closing the door. in the reflection of the mirror, you see someone behind you, just standing there.

you react first. you toss your head back and smack him with the back of your skull, and you're satisfied when you hear the telltale crunch of a nose breaking. when you spin around to face him, he's shouting, cradling his nose, but he flicks a blade out quickly, pressing you up against your car and putting the sharp edge to your neck.

"fuck!" he cries. "fuck! what did you fucking do?!"

you raise a brow, "you sneak up on a lady like that, and you wanna start complaining?"

"shut the fuck up," he snapped. you don't flinch, even as he digs the blade a little more into your neck. you tighten your jaw at the feeling of the edge pricking you a little. you narrow your eyes, tilting your head to the side.

"this isn't random...is it?" you ask. he stands tall, taller than you at least. he's a scrawny thing, but he's still bigger than you, and he has a weapon. his pupils are a little dilated, telling you he have taken something for the edge, and he fidgets. he's wearing a black bandana to cover the lower half of his face, but you can see the peek of brunette curls and the wild green of his eyes. you memorize the eyes, the accent--ukranian, georgian, russian? you try to place it as he speaks again.

"mm..." he shakes his head, "you're smart girl, i'll give you that."

you click your tongue, "then i don't have to tell you what a bad idea this is, do i?"

"it's because of that, that's why i'm doing this--" he comes closer, and his breath stinks, even through the mask. "they fucked with me, so i'll fuck with them. starting with their whores."

you tilt your head to the side, "oh...you really..." you smile a little, and it is off-putting. he frowns a bit momentarily. the smile you wear startles him. "you really don't get it."

"no, this is--"

"they won't just come for you," you whisper. "they're going to come for your family. mom. dad. sisters. brothers. cousins, friends--" you grit your teeth, "anyone that even so much as opens a fucking door for you or shines your goddamn shoes is going to lose a limb, are you ready for that?" you snarl a bit. "and when they find you, which they will, believe me--" you laugh, "it will be slow. it will be painful. you think you're the first?"

"fucking--"

"you aren't," you snap. "you're not the first, and you won't be the last." you glare at him, meeting his crazed eyes, and you take a deep, shaking breath. "so i want you to think again about what you're doing. i want you think about what it is you're going to do. because for every scratch they find on me...they are going to give it back to you." you blink, "so think. i'll wait."

you lean back against your car, your posture relaxed, your feet steady. it unnerves him, how calm you are. how you don't flinch, how nothing scares you, not even with his blade right against your soft skin. it doesn't phase you, and it's terrifying.

"they stole from me," he says finally. "eye for an eye. you'll just have to accept that."

you sigh, pouting a little.

"god, i...i really wish...i really wish you hadn't said that."

you bang on your car with one hand, drawing his attention away from you for just a moment. with your other, you slip your keys into your fist and you swing. you block his knife-wielding arm, sinking the pointed end of the key into his face, and you go for the vulnerable spots. back to his bleeding, broken nose, against his mouth, and the finishing blow, right into his eye.

he screams, the knife clattering to the floor, and he drops to his knees, cradling his bloody face. his hands shake, and you put your foot to his chest and kick, knocking him onto his back on the pavement.

you pick up the blade, holding it steady before you step on his neck, making him wheeze. he thrashes, preoccupied with wondering if he'll go blind in one eye.

"i told you," you spit. "you're not the first."

for a moment, your resolve breaks. your lip trembles, and you squeeze the handle of the blade tight for stability. this is the price you pay for loving someone. this is what you must do to keep a ghost, and although you feel strong and resilient and capable, you feel fear, too.

"he'll have to be the last, then."

your head snaps to the side when you hear it. he stands on the sidewalk, duffel bag at his feet. he's still wearing his gear--and fuck, he looks so big when he wears it. he looks so broad, the boots make him just that much taller, and it seems as if he hasn't had time to unload the artillery he normally wears. there's a gun holstered to his thigh and magazines stuffed into their pockets in his vest. he still wears his mask, eye-black smeared messily across his pale face.

it means he came here immediately--it means he didn't have time to undress. it means he wanted to come home, and come home fast.

you breathe easier when you see him there. when you step aside and the man beneath you gets a look at him with his good eye, he starts to cry. he sputters, starts to beg, but it falls on deaf ears.

the gravel on the pavement crunches under his boots as he comes near. like a magnet, a gloved hand comes up and grips you firmly on the back of the neck, and you lean up on your toes, tilting your head back just enough to kiss him through the mask.

it's soft, sweet, a little hungry after the time apart. you pull away slowly, smiling up at him. he narrows his eyes, angry, but it isn't at you.

"missed you," you whisper, and he grips your jaw with one big hand, tilting your head to the side. he grunts when he sees the thin line left behind from the blade, tiny droplets of blood beginning to peek out from it. "missed you so much--"

you gasp when his hand falls and gropes you. cupping one side of your ass, squeezing the fat of it in his paw and drawing you near. he pressed the front of you against him, despite the layers that separate you, and he hisses.

"are you olright?"

you nod. "just fine. he's new at this, i think."

you hum as he squeezes your ass again, patting it gently before nodding back towards home.

"get inside," he leans down and presses his covered mouth to yours again, and you can feel the rumble of his growl deep in his chest. "gonna rid y'of the rubbish, sweetheart."

[punkshort]

ikwya is so good!!! if u have time i would love to see their relationship before they were officially together or the night they became official. but you are so talented can’t wait for the next update!:)

Yes! Love this idea, thank you for requesting! I won't end up writing and posting this until the last chapter is posted because I have a few other things I need to work on first so I really hope you liked how it ended ❤️

Stubborn

An I Know Who You Are drabble

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: language, smut (18+ MDNI), fluff, feelings

WC: 1.4K

Joel's fingers dug into your hips as he slammed into you, eliciting a broken moan each time his thighs collided with the backs of yours. He was close, and so were you, but he didn't want it to end just yet because he knew when it was over, you would be gone.

"Joel," you whined, your voice muffled by the sheets. You frantically reached behind you to grab his wrist and he allowed himself drop down, pushing your hips into the mattress in the process with his chest pressing against your back. You found yourself face down, flat and completely confined by his body. He nipped and sucked on the side of your neck, hoping to leave a mark, while his coarse beard dragged over your soft skin.

"How's that feel, baby?" he groaned in your ear, squeezing his eyes shut when you pulsed around him.

"So good," you gasped, "so deep like this."

"I know," he murmured, biting down on his lip when he felt the familiar pull low in his belly. "Fuck, I know. So goddamn tight."

"Oh, my god!" you cried out, your arm flailing around aimlessly, trying to find something to hold onto. He grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together while maintaining a brutal pace with his hips until he felt you gush around him, curses and sobs tumbling weakly from your lips, your fingers clutching his so tightly it almost hurt.

"That's it," he praised, feeling his own climax swelling. "So good, baby. S-so good. All mine, right?"

"Mhmm."

"Say it," he commanded through gritted teeth.

"I'm yours," you mumbled weakly, still recovering from your orgasm.

That was all Joel needed to hear. He yanked his hips back, making you yelp from how roughly he pulled out, and gripped the base of his cock, stroking it until he came all over your back. Hot, white ropes of his seed painted your sweaty skin until a shiver ran down his spine.

"Shit," he whispered, gasping for air and staring down blankly at your back, watching as his spend slowly dripped over your sides. Not feeling very confident he could stand and walk to the bathroom, he leaned over to grab a bandana from his jeans pocket and wiped up his mess. You instantly pushed your knees down, lifting your lower half from the mattress, but his hand was at your back, pressing you down. You complied and he laid down on top of you, wiggling your ass underneath him with a giggle but he just smiled and closed his eyes, drinking in your scent.

"Joel, I don't think I can do round two."

"Not lookin' for round two," he mumbled, planting a kiss against your shoulder. He slid his palm down your forearm and threaded your fingers together again, enjoying the moment before it became too intimate and you began to writhe, shaking his hand loose.

"I gotta get going," you said, still pinned down by his weight.

"Why?"

You gave him a dry laugh. "Why? Because I'm tired and I want to go home."

"You can stay here."

"Joel..."

"C'mon, can we please stop this?" Joel asked, but he rolled off you anyway. He wasn't going to force you. You sighed and turned around, sitting up in bed and raking your fingers through your hair.

"What difference does it make? Everyone knows we're messing around, no one's going to make a move on me, if that's what you're worried about."

"Exactly. What difference does it make if you just stay the goddamn night once in a while? Quit bein' so stubborn," he rubbed his eyes, trying to mask his frustration.

You sighed and looked down at him, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you thought it over.

"Does it really mean that much to you?"

He dropped his hands from his face, eyes locking with yours. "Yes."

With an exasperated groan, you flicked the sheets open so you could settle in between them and rested your head on the pillow. "Alright, then."

"Really?"

"Just this once, and only because I'm exhausted," you said, eyes already closed. You wrapped your arms around your pillow with a sigh while he laid there, still staring at you.

"What if I don't want it to just be this once?" he asked softly. You cracked open one eye but didn't say anything. "What if I wanted more than just messin' around?" he added, scanning your face for any sign that you felt the same way. You had to.

He expected you to maybe get annoyed or possibly make a joke and go to sleep, but what he certainly didn't expect was for your eyes to suddenly fill with tears. His own eyes widened and he inched forward, reaching for your hand, when, much to his surprise, you met him halfway.

"I'm not a good person, Joel. I've done some terrible things," you whispered brokenly, and his chest tightened. If you only knew.

"We've all done bad shit to survive," he said, squeezing your hand.

"I've killed innocent people," you sniffled, "I've stood by and watched children-"

"Hey," he said, cutting you off, "so have I. But that don't mean we shouldn't be allowed to be happy, right?"

"I don't know. Maybe it does." It broke his heart seeing you so distraught. All he wanted to do was take your pain and shove it deep down with his own. You didn't deserve to suffer. As much as you thought otherwise, you deserved something good out of this world, and he desperately wanted to be the one to share that with you.

"C'mere," he whispered, tugging on your hand. You hesitated for a moment before sliding across the sheets and into his waiting arms. He held you close against his chest and buried his nose in your hair, trying to think of the right thing to say. "Not everythin' is black and white anymore," he began, "we do what we do to survive and protect the people we love. You ain't a bad person, baby," he planted a kiss on the top of your head and he could feel your silent tears seeping into his skin. "Is that why you've been pullin' away from me all this time? You think you don't deserve to be happy?"

He felt your shoulders shift with a little shrug and then you mumbled into his skin, "that, and maybe I'm too fucking terrified to risk losing someone I care about again."

His breath caught in his throat. You cared about him. "I ain't goin' anywhere," he said firmly, then hooked his finger under your chin, forcing your face away from his bare chest.

"You promise?" you whispered, and the way you looked so vulnerable in that moment made him weak. He swallowed thickly and nodded.

"Yeah, I promise."

You slowly carded your fingers through his hair, admiring how each curl fell back into place. "So how much more are we talking, here?" you asked, your voice sounding normal again, but he could hear the teasing lilt behind your words. He grinned.

"Oh, I want it all," he told you, watching the corners of your mouth twitch. "I wanna take candlelit baths together and hold hands while we're walkin' down the street. I wanna dance with you in front of the whole damn town and carry you home when you drink too much." You giggled and wiped the last of your tears away while his grip around your middle tightened. "I wanna take care of you when you're sick. I wanna fight 'bout stupid shit just so we can make up. But mostly I just wanna be there. When you're happy, sad, pissed off, excited... I just wanna be the one you come to, no matter what." He watched your expression soften a bit and he pinched your chin. "Think we can do that?"

You sighed and dramatically rolled your eyes. "I'm not really a bath person."

"We can negotiate that one."

You pretended to think about it for a moment, biting back your smile before nodding. You squealed when he rolled over and caged you in underneath him, his mouth crashing down on yours while his heart slammed excitedly in his chest. You wanted him, you wanted him. Then you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer, his half hard cock rubbing against your center, making you both moan.

"Okay, I think I'm ready for round two," you told him with a grin.

[ellieswrldd]

whiskey neat

pairing: cowgirl!ellie williams x f!reader

summary: ellie's a gunslinging outlaw who seems to have taken a liking to you, the pretty saloon girl.

content warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, thigh riding, train robbery, set during the 1800s, slightly awkward ellie, reader's 1st time with a woman

a/n: this is my thank u for 800 followers!! pic creds to riverexwren on pinterest 💗

“The necklace, hand it over,”

Your hands trembled with fear as you touched the locket strung around your neck. A shiny revolver was pointed at your nose and left you speechless.

Train robberies weren’t as common as they used to be, the law had grown stronger and outlaws were quickly becoming something of the past. At least that’s what the newspapers said.

Either the papers were wrong or you were just plain unlucky as you sat in the middle of a train robbery.

“I said hand it over,” The man holding the gun demanded, his eyes squinting as he inched the gun closer.

“Leave it, man, head to the front and help break those safes open, we don’t have time for your shit.” Your eyes darted past the barrel of the gun and landed on another masked assailant.

Auburn hair was tucked under a black cowboy hat, a scar running through one of her brows, striking green eyes, and a black bandana that covered the rest of her face. The man rolled his eyes and pushed past the woman, allowing you to find your breath. The woman’s eyes seemed to linger on your face before her brows furrowed and she looked back at the other passengers.

“Everybody stay seated, we’re just gonna take what we need and then we’ll be on our way, got it?” She stated loudly. Her hand rested comfortably on the handle of her gun as she spoke.

The following hour passed in a blur, you sat nervously in your seat as the woman kept watch. After a while, a few men returned and gave the woman a nod, bags of money in their hands.

“We’ve got the stuff, let’s get the hell outta here,” the man from earlier said. The woman looked back at him and nodded. She glanced back in your direction once more before leaving the train with her gang.

Just as soon as they had ridden off, the lawmen arrived. The train was up and running again and the officers went around interviewing the passengers as the train started toward the city. Everyone was rather shaken up but it seemed like there were few casualties, the only deaths being that of a few guards.

The rest of the day you were stuck in a haze, shaken by the robbery. People asked about the details but you simply shook your head and waved them away, it was clear you wanted to forget the whole ordeal.

Weeks passed slowly, spring turned into summer, and you eventually moved on from the train incident. Nothing ever came of it, the assailants were never identified and nobody was able to offer up any useful intel about the robbery so you simply continued on with your life.

You worked as a saloon girl at the local bar which wasn’t the best gig, but it certainly paid well. The busy atmosphere kept you entertained during the night and you were typically free during the days.

Dressed in a vibrant blue gown you sauntered around the bar, refilling drinks and sweet-talking some of the men, nothing you weren’t used to. As you made your rounds, you caught sight of someone who piqued your interest. She sat by herself at a small round table near the corner of the room.

Other than the saloon gals, women didn’t frequent the joint often so you always felt curious when you spotted a female patron. Something about this lady in particular seemed familiar despite the fact you couldn’t recall ever meeting someone like her. With that short, reddish hair she’d be hard to miss for certain, so why was she so familiar?

“You look like you could use a refill,” You smiled at her as you approached, a hand on your hip. She looked up at you and pulled her cigarette from her lips. After exhaling the smoke away from you, the girl sat up a little straighter and shrugged.

“Guess I could, or maybe I could just use some company.” Her voice was a bit raspy but it sounded like sweet honey to your ears. She passed you her empty glass and took another drag from her cigarette. “Whiskey, neat,”

You giggled and took the glass. You stepped away to refill the glass before returning to her table. She cracked a charming smile and nodded toward the seat beside her as she took the glass from your hands.

“Why have I never met you before? Passing through town?” You asked as you slid into the chair next to her. The girl tapped her fingers on her glass cup.

“Something like that. I’m not from ‘round here.” She took a drag from her cigarette and made sure to blow the smoke away from your direction.

“You seem awfully familiar, are you sure we’ve never crossed paths?”

“I doubt it,” She paused for a moment before speaking again. “I think I’d remember a pretty face like yours,”

You felt heat rush to your cheeks and you smiled. “Flattery won’t get you free drinks, miss…?” You trailed off, waiting for her to finish your sentence.

“Williams, but you can call me Ellie.”

The conversation between you two flowed easily, even with Ellie’s flirtatious banter. As it neared midnight you noticed the people begin to return home, of course, a few drunkards still milling about inside.

“I better go,” You said quietly, glancing at the door. Ellie bit her cheek and nodded. She threw back the remaining alcohol she had in her cup and stood up.

“Let me walk you home, it’s not safe for a pretty lady to walk home alone.” You laughed and rolled your eyes when you saw her outstretched hand.

“I assure you I am no lady,” You took her hand and stood up. Ellie chuckled and shook her head.

“Lead the way,”

You didn’t live too far from the saloon and for once you wished the walk was longer. Maybe it was stupid of you to get involved with someone who clearly didn’t plan on sticking around for long, but you pushed that thought to the back of your mind.

“I like that necklace of yours, it’s real nice,” Ellie commented, her eyes gazing at the locket, then falling a bit lower to the low cut of your bodice.

Politely, you thanked her and continued speaking, but something inside of you was stuck on her comment.

It was then that you finally realized exactly who she was and why you remembered her. The intriguing gunslinger who couldn’t keep her eyes off you while her partners robbed a train was the very same woman walking you home.

As you stopped in front of your door, you turned to Ellie.

“Ellie, I need to ask you something and I want you to be honest with me.”

The other girl looked confused but nodded.

“It was you on that train, wasn’t it?”

She stared at you silently for a second, her mouth slightly agape, it was as if she was trying to think of the right response.

“Be honest with me please,” You sighed. “I know we just met, but I like you and I like your company, and I want to know who I’m talkin’ to. I’m surely not pure, I’ve done bad things too, I swear I would never tell—” You rambled on before Ellie interrupted you.

“Yes, that was me.” Her voice was a raspy mumble, and her eyes were focused on her dusty boots.

“Okay,” The words escaped you as a whisper and suddenly you realized how nervous you felt. The nerves could be partially attributed to the fact you had confirmed your suspicions, but you knew they were because of something more.

“I wouldn’t hurt you, I hope you know that—”

“Do you want to come inside?”

Ellie bit her lip and nodded, a small smile forming on her face. She followed you inside while she tried her best to conceal the stupid smile that was pulling at her cheeks. You watched as she slipped her heavy jacket off and hung it on the coat hanger, and you inhaled when you saw the shine of her revolver tucked into her pants.

“You’re lookin’ at my gun,” She stated and followed your gaze. “I can put it away or something if it scares you,”

You simply shook your head and ran your hands down the front of your skirt. “I’m not scared,”

“Okay then,”

The tension between the two of you seemed to fill the entire room and you couldn’t seem to look Ellie in the eyes.

“Maybe I ought to go,” Ellie murmured. It was evident that neither of you wanted that, the way she was inching closer to you certainly confirmed that.

“Maybe you ought to stay,” You looked up and finally made eye contact with her. “You make me so…” You trailed off quietly as you looked down at her lips and registered how close she was.

“So what?” Her hand reached out and gently brushed against your wrist.

“…Nervous,” You breathed. It seemed like your lips were only mere inches apart.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,”

Ellie ran her fingers up your bare arm slowly before gently cupping your cheek.

“Don’t toy with me,” You mutter and Ellie laughed softly. She pulled you in and kissed you softly, her lips molding against yours.

The kiss was everything you needed. It was passionate and messy and perfect. You had never done anything like this with another woman before and it scared you, but Ellie’s lips moved so sweetly that it made you forget all of your worries.

It wasn’t long until the kiss turned from sweet to fiery with Ellie’s tongue sliding against your own and her hands traveling down your back. A soft moan escaped your lips when Ellie squeezed your hips gently.

“God, you’re so— you make me—” Ellie breathed heavily and buried her face in your exposed neck, her lips moving hungrily against your skin. Your hands traveled to her hair as she sucked and nipped at your neck.

“Ellie,” You panted her name and tugged her hair gently until she pulled away.

“Did I do somethin’ wrong?” She muttered, brows furrowed.

“No! No, I loved that, I just— I’ve never done this before, not with a woman I mean,” Her hands remained on your hips as you spoke.

“I-I’ll help you, I don’t mind,” Ellie’s cheeks turned pink and she pulled you close again. “Should we go to your bedroom..?” She asked.

You nodded and intertwined your fingers with hers before leading her to your room. It wasn’t much but it was homey, charming even.

Ellie wasted no time to kiss you again, this time her hands moved presumptuously across your body. From sliding across your torso and chest to squeezing your ass through the delicate fabrics of your dress, Ellie’s movements only grew bolder with your responses.

Slowly, Ellie tugged the skirt of your dress up, revealing your skin inch by inch.

“Take it off me,” You whispered. And so she did, untying your corset like her life depended on it and carefully lifting the dress above your head, so as not to stretch anything. Then, finally, you stood before her completely bare.

“You are so beautiful,” She said, her eyes glued to the curves and shape of your body. You reached out and unbuttoned her shirt slowly but surely. Ellie’s breathing seemed to deepen as you moved lower, the curves of her small breasts now visible as you undid the last few buttons. Then, you took her gun from her waistband and set it on your nightstand for safekeeping.

Your hands found their way to the button of her pants next, shakily undoing them as she watched you intently. She kicked her pants off along with her undergarments and was completely nude.

“Show me what to do,” You met her eyes and waited for her to guide you. Her hands found yours and grabbed your wrists, moving your hands to her breasts.

“Touch me here,” She instructed. Ellie took in a sharp breath when you rolled her nipples between your fingers, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Th-that's good, yeah,”

“What else?”

She bit her lip and took one of your hands, moving it to cup her cunt.

“You feel that? How wet I am?” You nodded quickly. “It’s because of you, because of how bad I want you,”

“M-Me too,” You stammered, suddenly aware of the wet heat in between your legs.

“Lay down, I’ll take care of you,” Ellie smiled and stood over you as you lay on your bed. Crawling on top of you, Ellie kissed you sweetly a few times before she moved lower and latched her mouth onto your nipple. Her tongue swirled around your stiff nipples, drawing out needy whining from you.

Her fingers began to slowly rub your puffy clit in lazy circles while she kept your legs spread. She wanted nothing more than to fuck you in every way possible, rough and fast, but she knew you needed something slow right now, something caring and gentle to get you started.

Ellie kissed and licked and suckled across your tits, a trail of hickeys and saliva all over your chest.

“Ellie,” You whined and squirmed beneath her. She was moving so slowly and it was nice, but you were so needy and you couldn’t take the teasing.

“I know, just– hold on,” She pulled away and moved to sit against the headboard of the bed. “Come here,” Ellie reached her hand out to you. You sat up and crawled over to her, sitting in her lap as she pulled you on top of her.

Ellie spread her legs out and cleared her throat. “Sit on my thigh,” You followed her instruction and straddled her thigh, one of your thighs on each side. “Yeah, just like that,” In this position, you could feel the heat of her skin against your entire pussy.

“What do I do?” You murmur, glancing down and back up at her.

“Put your hands here,” She placed your hands on her shoulders. “And just rock back and forth, slowly,” She inhaled deeply as you did what she said and you started grinding yourself against her thigh. Ellie’s hands found their way to your thighs and she squeezed your soft skin.

Low moans and whimpers came from your wet lips while you rubbed yourself against her. As you moved back and forth, you had begun to push your knee against Ellie’s clit just enough for her to feel a delicious friction.

“N-Now you can speed up, you’re doing so well,” She panted and gazed at you with half-lidded eyes. Her hands slid up from your thighs to your hips where she helped roll your hips a bit faster and harder against her thigh. Ellie had also begun to grind her clit against your knee, moaning your name as she too chased the pleasure.

By now her thigh was covered in your juices, shining in the moonlight that poured through your windows. Ellie listened as your moans grew higher and louder, and took that as a sign that you were nearing your climax.

Everything was sloppy and messy, but it was the best feeling you’d ever experienced. Your two bodies moving together sensually, both of you craving and chasing orgasm, your skin on hers.

Soon enough, both you and Ellie were crying out and shaking while you were overcome with pleasure. You fell limp against her and her arms encircled you.

The room was silent with the only sounds being you and Ellie’s breathing.

“That was—” You sighed.

“Yeah,” Ellie laughed softly and rubbed your back. “You did good,”

“You think so?” You ran a finger along her collarbone.

“I know so,” She gave you a smile. “You ought to get some rest, it’s late,” Ellie kissed your cheek.

“Only if you promise not to run off?”

“Okay, I promise,” She whispered. You pulled the bedsheets over your bodies and settled down for the night.

The next morning you woke up to an empty bed. You frowned and turned to the other side of the bed. Ellie stood by your window, a cigarette in hand as she blew the smoke through the opened window.

“Good morning,” She said when she turned her head to look at you.

As you looked at her your head raced with wild dreams and ideas, things you wish you could say and do, but you simply smiled at her and watched Ellie take another drag of her cigarette.

You would never be allowed to be with Ellie publicly, homosexuality was a sin in the eyes of society. Not to mention, Ellie Williams was an outlaw.

What you had done with her was wrong, so so wrong, and yet you couldn’t help but yearn for more.

[silassinclair]

Hello! Wondering if I can request a Maddox with a very Dense darling? Just all in general doesn’t realize that Maddox grew to love her? It’s just going back and forth on Maddox trying to show his love while Darling is just thinking that he’s trying to manipulate her or something of the sort..Just all in all love silly and weird things happening with the two.

Hope you have a great day as always, remember to always take care! :)

This is such a cute request. Thank you for this one!! And you have a greater day :) Masterlist Here!!

Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Dense Reader

You noticed something odd about your outlaw captor lately. Usually he would force you to do chores around the house while he would either watch and insult you; or go out in town to drink while you were chained to the table so you wouldn’t run off. But for the past few weeks the chores have become less and less and Maddox kept a closer eye on you. No longer did he go out in town while leaving you chained up. Instead he watched you in silence. It was weird and honestly uncomfortable. Why was he always looking at you and not saying anything?

“Did you run out of crude words to call me?” You ask while hanging some clothes outside to dry. Maddox sits on the porch step watching you.

“Huh?” He utters.

“You’ve been watching me in silence lately. It’s… odd.”

The shirt you hang up is one of his. Even though it's clean it still has his cedarwood and smokey scent on it. Maddox has invaded all of your senses lately. You see him watch you, you smell him when he's near, you hear his grunts when he chops wood, and you feel his featherlight touch on your cheek when he thinks you're asleep. You can't go anywhere without sensing him nearby. No, the masked outlaw has you on an invisible leash.

Maddox stands up from where he was sat on the porch step. Walking past the hung clothes blowing in the wind he strides towards you. His brown eyes are locked on you. It makes you nervous. Did you slip up? Say something you shouldn't have? Will he punish you again?

"What is it princess? Am I makin' you uncomfy?" You can pretty much hear him smirking from behind that bandana. You don't even need to see his face to know what it looks like.

"No." You reply. "It's just weird. You're always watching me now. What are you scheming huh?"

The outlaw chuckles and reaches a hand out to your face. You flinch and his hand freezes. Maddox's eyes soften for a moment and he moves his hand slowly to put a strand of lose hair behind your ear. His hand brushes against the shell of your ear. It's warm.

"I ain't scheming anythin' sweet heart. Just like to watch you is all. Is that a crime?"

Your eyebrows furrow. "I don't believe you for a second."

Taking another article of clothing out of the basket you hang it up on the clothesline.

"You don't believe me?" He whines jokingly. "Why would I lie? Who wouldn't wanna watch a pretty girl like you go about her days? It's more entertaining than going to any boring ol' show."

That one causes an eyeroll. "Now you're trying too hard. If you think I'm going to run away then relax because I'm not. I learned my lesson when you shot me."

Maddox groans and wraps his arms around your waist. He leans down, resting his chin on your shoulder. Once again Maddox invades your senses. You smell the gun smoke, feel his heat, hear his breathing, and see his arms around you.

"What if I told ya' I loved you hm?" His husky voice whispers into your ear.

"Well then I wouldn't believe you." You shoot back imediatley. The outlaw whines and buries his face into the crook of your neck from behind.

"Why not princess?" He says as his finger toys with the ribbon that ties the front area of your dress together, the ribbon right over top your breasts.

"Because you're a lying criminal. Now shove off, I'm working on drying your stinky underwear."

Your elbow jabs Maddox in the ribs making him wince and let you go.

“Easy now princess.”

"I'm home."

You turn to see Maddox standing under the entryway of the kitchen. In his hands is a bouquet of wildflowers varying in colors of white, green, yellow, and purple.

"Those are nice flowers. I'll grab a vase for them." You say and look for one under the sink cabinet. But all you find is an extra large empty can that once held baked beans. Well, it'll have to do. You take the can and fill it with water from the basin. Maddox watches you take the flowers from his hands with the utmost care. He watches how gently you put them in the can and set it on the table.

You'd make an amazing wife. The way you make this temporary house a home is admirable. Maddox never knew what he was missing until he met you. You were a thorn in his side, just a little play thing that annoyed him. You were only supposed to be a temporary pleasure but you soon turned into an irreplaceable companion. Whenever he was gone he'd miss you. When he was home he'd watch you. Every second of his life is all for you.

All because he loves you. And seeing you smile over some simple wildflowers proves that his love for you is no mistake. You're absolutely perfect, even if you don't feel the same way about him. Eventually he'll make you come around. Even if he has to use force.

"I saw em while I was out and I thought you'd like em." Maddox says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Smiling softly you adjust the flowers. "They're beautiful. Thank you."

You turn to Maddox and lock eyes with him. At the same time the both of you think to yourselves,

"Maybe he isn't too bad."

"Maybe love isn't too bad."

[kaihuntrr]

The Sea Prince: The Watcher, ‘Civilians’, and Hunters.

To celebrate this au being one of my most favorite things to work on, I’ve made designs for the Solidarity brothers, Big B, and redesigned the trio!

Closeups and introductions under the cut :> here they are!

Now that’s character design! I’m super proud of how they turned out, and they form a rainbow by pure coincidence. Let’s talk about them!

Starting off with the duos!

‘Nosy Neighbors’ & ‘Mean Gills’

Big B is a new one so I’ll talk about him first. I’ll talk about the other three as characters :)

‘Big B.’

Big B is a Watcher; an organization that studies and hunts sea monsters. He used to be a famous vagabond hunter, but due to some mysterious circumstances, he retired early. You’ll meet him much later on in the story, but he’s quite an interesting character! He keeps his secrets. He knows yours. Who knows if he's trustworthy or not.

He seems to have a connection to Grian.

‘Pearl Moone.’

She’s a cocky, energetic person to be around. She doesn’t seem too trusting with strangers, especially hunters. Her accessories are golden, and she has a scar over her left eye so she definitely stands out.

She has a red shell bracelet similar to Scott’s necklace. Are they friends?

‘Scott Major.’

A pleasant, sassy, and entertaining server in the port town the Red Canaries visit. He often flirts with Martyn, leaving the hunter speechless with promises of something more. He’s hiding something. Maybe he’ll tell Martyn his secrets one day?

He swears a couple of necklaces, but one is hidden under his shirt.

‘Martyn Woods.’

The second mate to the Red Canaries. Loyal to a fault, he prioritizes everyone before himself, even neglecting his needs. He believes that his isolated life is worth it, but his feelings change the more Scott talks his way into his life. Is he ready to love again, even after what happened to Ren?

He has a couple of scars, some big ones on his chest. He has a locket and tattoo of a crown and a necklace trinket of the first monster he killed as a boy.

‘Bad Boys’, the Solidarity brothers.

A bunch of new designs here! I referenced their bad boy skins so they have similar ‘leather jackets’. I’m excited for you all to learn about them and their history.

‘Grian Solidarity.’

The youngest adopted brother of the trio. He’s chaotic, but he’s shifty. His birth parents were from the Watchers, but after their death, he was entrusted to the Solidarity family to care for him. They died when he was young, so he doesn’t remember them. He loves his brothers to death and does what he can to protect them and his crew.

He, like his other brothers, keeps a locket with their family photo. He wears a yellow bandana with his name crudely stitched on it. Strangely, he has some similarities to Pearl…

‘Joel Solidarity.’

The awkward, funny middle child. He has the most muscle out of the brothers but he masks it with his pleasant behavior. He quickly accepted Grian into the family and shared his interest in starting the hunter crew. When they were younger, the two would sneak away from their older brother to meet Martyn and Impulse by the docks. Currently, he’s engaged to Lizzie Shadow and is waiting for winter so they can finally tie the knot.

He keeps a falcon feather in his hat as his parents were falconers. He wears his red bandana, also with crude stitches of his name, on his head.

‘Jimmy Solidarity.’

The oldest and most emotional of the brothers. He wasn’t particularly interested in becoming a hunter, preferring to spend time with the birds and become a falconer, but he loved his brothers so he went with it. He’s impulsive, stubborn, but a wonderful and simple person all around.

He keeps his red bandana on his belt, with neat stitches of his name. He has a braided bracelet and a tattoo on his neck.

...and he’s dead.

...or is he?

There’s a LOT going on with these designs, a lot of spoilers in them so what I’ve said could or could not be hints to what’s to come! Not sure when the next design dump would be, but I think my upcoming post would be fun, particularly for those who want to read the story ;) all in due time.

oh, also new life Scott is partially ginger. I predicted that HA- /j I’ll probably whip up art of those two bc. That’s incredibly funny-

Which one of these characters/ designs is your favorite? Let me know! :D

[darth-sonny]

You got any Prime Leo AU Bad End snippets, funny moments or fun facts? Your prime Leo AU is my favorite thing please feed me your ideas and thoughts on it!!!

hmmmmmmmmmmm.......not as much as I would like but here are some snippets:

Casey Jr is the leader of the second Resistance. he's already an expert on how to survive an alien apocalypse (but nobody knows that) so every survivor they save and recruited looks at him like he's their last hope on earth

(he hates that look)

no one, legit no one, knows who Prime's Host is. they just know he's a turtle but other than that, they got nothing

both Donnie and Casey Jr have a reputation for being stoic, no nonsense, and scarily proficient in dispatching Kraang zombies and demon dogs

(it's the only way they let out their anger in a judgment-free way)

all of the Hamatos wear blue in some way, shape or form

Casey Jr and Master Splinter tie their hair with a blue mask, Professor Donatello has a blue scarf wrapped around his neck, Captain Raphael and Master Michelangelo have matching blue bracelets, and Commander O'Neil has a blue bandana around her arm

the Hamatos are well-known for being quite mysterious. all the Resistance knows about their personal lives is that they had a family member who died on the day the invasion started up again. anymore questions are met with either silence or a chilling glare

the Hamatos still have their ninpō, but it does little to help

Master Michelangelo is always seen meditating. any questions about it are answered with "I'm searching for something". he always finishes looking heartbroken and pissed. tons of Kraang mechs and zombies are destroyed after those sessions

Raph wears an eyepatch. his eye injury has long since healed but he still wears it 'cus he thinks it makes him look cool

April ripped the eyepatch off of his face and smacked him

[sketchiefoxie]

~✨Hi everyone! SketchieFoxie here with a Master Post!✨~

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💜🩷❤️🧡💛💚🩵💜🩷

❤️Asks are open! Please feel free to ask about my AUs or simply about me ^^❤️

🏳️‍🌈This blog is an LGBTQIA+ safe place! You’re all welcome here!!🏳️‍🌈

🐢This blog is mostly a TMNT blog, as it’s my Hyperfixation lol.🐢

✏️I’ll continue to update this master post as I come up with more ideas and such, because lemme tell y’all I got some good TMNT AUs I plan on writing out, rather than letting them fester within my silly brain XD✏️

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💫~My Socials~ DeviantArt, A03, & ArtFight💫

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🌟Commission info!!🌟

Commissions are open!!

(Also, if you’re broke, but seriously freaking want art from me, just drop a color palette into my ask box, and I’ll doodle up a lil something nice ^^)

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🍄ROTTMNT Animatics🍄

•Here lemme jus • WHEEZE • If I died •

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🦋Its Not Abuse If They're Family🦋

Mikey squinted when he saw his reflection. He didn’t look normal. The face staring back at him was incredibly familiar, like having déjà vu. Round face, freckled cheeks, orange mask, big blue eyes. Hadn’t he drawn this yokai earlier? The filmy layer on the screen crept away, starting from the outer edges, creeping towards the center, revealing the face behind. It was a turtle mutant of sorts. Big eyes, medium length black hair, yellow freckles, and an orange bandana tied around his neck. The stranger’s eyes widened as he stared at Mikey, expression full of curiosity. In a flash of blinding light, the two switch places, a Mikey and a Mikey, in two separate worlds. Or: Rottmnt Mikey swaps places with 2012 Mikey, and the two go through life changing events. Rottmnt Mikey has to help banish the Krang a second time, in a new universe, while 2012 Mikey uncovers a mystery within his newfound family, potentially tearing them apart.

Playlist that Rottmnt Mikey listens to consistency throughout the fanfic: Alan Walker 8D on YouTube

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🐢When I Was Younger🐢

“It’s a month after the invasion, and the Mad Dogs believe they’ve left the worst behind themselves. Though their whole world is shook when none other than their future selves, not Casey’s future versions, but themselves come back to the past. Something big is coming; something involving the Krang and the Foot clan, and it isn’t good.”

@inkypawprint and I are the creators of When I Was Younger which is a Rottmnt AU. It’s available on A03 and artwork can be viewed with the tags #WIWYau and #WIWY

— Arc 1 here

— Arc 2 (not written yet)

—Arc 3 (not written yet)

—Arc 4 (not written yet)

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💀Deja Vu Masterpost💀

"Supposedly, only a few days ago, someone died in the abandoned, and eligibly haunted sewers of NYC. Naturally, April decides to check it out. On a mission to explore the abandoned section of the NYC's sewers, April O' Neil and finds herself trapped after an accident, stuck with no way out. Something, or rather, multiple someone's seem to be living in these sewers, lurking behind the corners, watching from the shadows. Something terribly wrong is going on here; and the worst part? April feels like this isn't her first time living through this..."

Deja Vu is a Rottmnt horror "choose the outcome" story! For more information, artwork, and fanart, please visit the Deja Vu Masterpost!

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⚔️Rottmnt x Adventure Time AU⚔️

Adventure time au where the characters from Rottmnt are now the characters from adventure time. All artwork for this au can be found under the tag

#Rottmnt x Adventure Time

Please feel free to send in asks about the characters, and interact with them!!

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❣️ROTTMNT One-Shots❣️

A collection of my Rottmnt One-Shots. There’s not much yet, but hey, I’ll prolly add to it as time goes on.

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💕UTMV One-Shots💕

A collection of all the Undertale Au oneshots I’ve written. They all vary in rating and have warning tags. (Seriously, most of them contain some messed up 18+ stuff lol)

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🎨Endless Adventure🎨

“Ink and Error magically fused, changing them into a fusion named Scrap and share a mind, body and soul. At first they simply try to live their lives, getting along the best they can. But as they delve into the multiverse, they change the fate of their whole world. In this heartwarming and angsty story, follow Scrap as he explores a wide variety of AU’s, helps friends, fights off oncoming evil, and rekindles lost relationships with his abandoned children.”

@boxed-soup and I are the creators of Endless Adventure. @boxed-soup is the creator of the main character, Scrap. This story is currently on hiatus , and will be focused on later this year, as it only has one chapter posted. The rest is all in the rough draft stage lol.

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❤️EveryTale❤️

“This is just the beginning. Ink has no memory’s of his prior life, and isn’t sure if he even had one. One things for sure, every little chain of events is leading up to something huge.”

EveryTale is on permanent hiatus as in all honestly, I couldn’t get the plot figured out, and the bulk of my ideas went into Endless Adventure. You can find artwork for EveryTale under the tag #EveryTale or here on my DeviantArt

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[theriveroflight]

A Chance Encounter

@fyeahghosttrick's Ghost Swap might be over, but apparently I am not done writing yet! Inspired by one of @okiroash's prompts: "AU where Cabanela/Jowd crosses path with Yomiel 3 years after the park incident, will they confront him? maybe he'll get thrown into the scp jail /j or something more angsty.. it's up to you"

Rating: T

Word Count: 1732

Content...uh...notices: car accident; it/its pronouns are used for Sissel for personal reasons (see AO3 note for full reasoning)

Summary: Jowd is used to seeing ghosts — but not like this.

Read on AO3

Jowd is a man haunted by many ghosts, even before anyone in his life actually dies. So when he sees a man with yellow hair in a red suit, he doesn’t think anything of it. Seeing the ghost of his worst mistake in front of him isn’t unusual, though there is typically some sort of trigger. And the ghost in front of him is different from the times he’s seen the specter of his past in front of him. For one, there’s something on his shoulders. A black cat.

Jowd stops in his tracks.

Yomiel, for his part, is actually not dressed in a red suit. He’s dressed more casually for going out in public, and he has a face mask on to obscure some of the cameras. Sissel, his closest companion, is sitting on top of his shoulder. The weight of Sissel atop his shoulders is a comfort, and with his headphones in, he’s hardly paying attention to his surroundings. Jowd’s existential crisis goes unnoticed by him, which is fortunate enough for him — for the next few minutes, at least.

Jowd makes a phone call in hushed tones to his partner at the force. They’re both supposed to be on break — but a missing body is a missing body. Even if that body shouldn’t be standing up and walking.

“I’m coming, baby,” Cabanela says on the other end of the line. “Doooooon’t worry. There’s got to be a way to explain this, yeah?”

“Yes,” Jowd answers begrudgingly. “I’m certain if it were a hallucination it wouldn’t be like this. But…”

“If it spooked you enough to call me, it must have been reeeeeeeeal spooky,” Cabanela responds. The implication goes unspoken, but remains nonetheless even after the call ends.

Jowd follows the man, as discreetly as a man of his stature is capable of. Yomiel isn’t doing anything too out of the ordinary — he’s going to the library again, one of the few places he feels comfortable, even if he can’t have Sissel with him.

“How’s it hangin’?” Cabanela asks.

“He’s inside the library,” Jowd answers. “I’m still…fairly certain it’s him. Maybe it’s a false alarm, but…I don’t think I’ll ever forget that face.”

Cabanela pats Jowd twice on the back, trying to be reassuring and failing. “Iiiiiiii’ll head on in. Don’t worry up a storm about it, okay?”

Jowd smiles — for real this time. “Don’t leave the gun on the table.”

“You know me, baby, I don’t make the same mistakes twice.” Cabanela smiles in return. “It’s not even on me today! Because this little interlude is during our lunch break.”

And then Cabanela disappears from Jowd into the library.

Meanwhile, Yomiel has been checking his AOL account. People don’t usually email people that they believe are dead, but he’s been trying to update his MySpace friends from a perspective that isn’t weird.

How does one phrase “don’t believe the news I didn’t actually die”? Who knows, but Yomiel’s trying to figure it out, sitting on his AOL messageboards when he sees Cabanela in the reflection of his probably-too-dark screen.

Meanwhile, Jowd is outside, paying special attention to a cat in the grass. The cat is black, with a bandana tied around its neck. Its name is Sissel, but he doesn’t know that. Nor does he recognize it as the cat that was sitting atop Yomiel’s shoulders earlier. But Sissel recognizes him, and it doesn’t like Jowd very much. Jowd had been pointing something dangerous at Yomiel, Sissel knows, and it doesn’t like that very much. It doesn’t like Jowd very much, just from how much Yomiel has talked about the green detective, and this is certainly that same green detective there in the park.

Jowd just sits and waits for Sissel to approach him. It won’t, but it will continue to observe Jowd.

“Heyyyyyyy,” Cabanela says, deceptively casual. He leans against the counter. “I’d like to use the computer, if you please.”

Yomiel’s sunglasses slip a little ways down his nose.

“No.” Yomiel’s words are clipped as he turns back to his typing. But he can’t control the fear that courses through him.

“Alriiiiiiight then,” Cabanela says. “We tried it the easier way, and now we can do this the hard way. Police. And youuuuuu are under arrest, my dear fellow.”

“I’m not doing this again,” Yomiel says, voice rising with panic. “I can’t do this again.”

“Relaaaaaaax,” Cabanela says.

Easy for him to say, Yomiel thinks, anger blazing within him more than the fear sending chills down his spine. But he submits to the handcuffs and lets himself seethe. There will be a time to escape when he gets into the police car. Sissel is right outside the library. He will not be held captive for long. After all, how can a ghost be imprisoned? He laughs at the thought. They can take his body, but they’ll never have him.

So he lets Detective Cabanela escort him to the police car waiting around the corner, and then as soon as he’s inside the car, he leans himself against the window and hops out.

To Yomiel, it would be child’s play to take over Cabanela’s mind and make him crash the car. And that idea comes into his head just as he’s about to double back into the library.

It’s perfect. And it gives him an opportunity to escape.

So he puts himself into Cabanela’s mind instead and crashes the car. He knows Cabanela is alive — he can feel it, the spirit trying to push back on him. But it’s not enough. It’s not enough — he knows what he’s doing now. He’s had this power for years. And it makes him feel good, to feel a heart beating within someone’s chest, to suck in air through his lungs and know it is keeping him alive.

But he returns to his own body. He has to find Sissel—

And then, right there, are Jowd and Sissel. Sissel immediately scampers to Yomiel’s side — it’s followed Jowd because Jowd had taken Cabanela’s bike to follow the police car and Sissel had known somehow that its best friend had been taken.

Jowd knows Cabanela can drive. Just because Cabanela rides a bike everywhere doesn’t mean he can’t drive — it’s a requirement for the force. An officer never knows when they’ll be pulled to dispatch, and you can’t arrest a criminal riding a bike.

“You’re a wanted fugitive,” Jowd warns.

“I’m dead,” Yomiel answers. “Do you think that will stop me? You won’t hurt me. You wouldn’t dare.”

And he’s right. Jowd hasn’t stopped hating himself for what happened that day in the park.

“Come with me, and I won’t have to,” Jowd answers.

“No,” Yomiel says. And then he reaches to possess Sissel, his body falls to the ground, and Jowd is left stunned.

The body has no heartbeat, naturally. Sissel and Yomiel bound away in tandem; running from the scene while Jowd approaches the body.

The body, of course, is dead — what else could it be? But Jowd panics nonetheless — did he really kill Yomiel? How did Yomiel die so suddenly? Jowd hadn’t even done anything, and he doubts it was something from the car crash, because there hasn’t been any blood…

Cabanela, for his part, is mostly fine. He doesn’t know what happened, and is very confused as to why the car is crashed — but when he spots his partner over Yomiel’s body from the car’s mirror, he can’t help but feel confused. Even more confused. He is experiencing a lot of confusion.

“Jowd,” Cabanela says, almost too soft, “tell me what happened, baby.”

“I didn’t do anything. He just collapsed.” Jowd’s tone is flat. He can’t convince himself of it.

Yomiel looks over his-Sissel’s shoulder.

Are you okay? Sissel asks, though it’s less in the form of words and more in the form of the general feeling.

Yomiel conveys the feeling of being fine, and Sissel conveys in return skepticism. Yomiel’s not alright, and Sissel knows that, but it doesn’t push too far.

“The last time we put his body in the morgue, we lost his body,” Cabanela says. “I’m going to talk to the prof. He might help us out.”

Other officers are at the scene now.

“Detectives!” Officer McCaw says. “What happened here?”

“We found our missing body,” Jowd says, face turning with disgust. “It’s him. I know for sure it’s him.”

“...here? After a car crash?” McCaw asks.

“He was…alive when we found him,” Jowd continues. Reporting is something he can do. The facts. “I do not know what is going on with his body, but there’s no signs of life. He’s not responding. No heartbeat. No trauma consistent with the car crash.”

McCaw looks at the body. “Alright,” he says.

The body has fallen in quite an awkward position. Yomiel’s face is on the ground, and his butt is sticking up in the air.

“Who was driving at the time?” McCaw asks. “I have to ask. Someone has to be on the hook for the damage.” He sounds tired more than anything else. He wants nothing more than to just get this over with.

“Me,” Cabanela answers. “I miiiiiiiight have lost consciousness at the wheel. Which is hella weird. I don’t remember going to sleep, or even being tired at all…”

“Strange,” McCaw says. “Might want to get that checked out.”

“Thaaaaaanks,” Cabanela says. He’s not being sarcastic — not one bit.

Yomiel is catching his breath. He’ll have to find a way to get his body back.

Sissel conveys at him exasperation. But Yomiel can tell that it’s content.

McCaw takes some more notes about the damage to the police cruiser, and then graciously lets Jowd ride in the cruiser McCaw had driven on-site. Cabanela is forced to ride his bike back to the police station, the first of many punishments for the car crash.

Cabanela does end up calling the prof, and the prof examines the body. The body is not left unattended again — they will not make the same mistake twice. A black cat lingers around the scene, waiting for the moment when Sissel will be alone again and Yomiel will have his own vessel — but until then, the body remains guarded, and Yomiel bides his time, waiting for the day when he can finally have himself back, even if his body is a facsimile of what it once was.

[angelmichelangelo]

for the whumpy 5 minute fic prompts, i'd love to see "you stayed--" 👀👀

Casey blinks and the world comes back to him.

Like turning over the channel, he supposes. It all comes to him at once. There’s the sloping curve of the lab ceiling. The bubbling sound of the algae pool. Timothy blankly staring out of the tank, bulbous eyes frozen in his direction. 

Eyes roll around to confirm his location. Donnie’s desk is piled up with a slew of experiments, all different from the last but he knows the rate in which the turtle starts something, gets distracted and turns to something else before finishing what he’d started.

Ha. And they said that Mikey was bad.

He laughs, then coughs, then winces and before he can try to sit up there’s already a voice warning him not to.

“Don’t do that, idiot.”

He turns his head. Raph isn’t usually a comment contender for things which are usually found in Donatello’s lab but then again neither is Casey, nor unless he’s really bored. And he doesn’t remember falling asleep here but he’s flat on his back and there’s something warm pulled up over him.

“You cracked a rib,” Raphael tells him flatly. He’s slumped backwards on the office chair, scooting a little closer, his mask hangs loose around his neck, not usually a look he would wear but without the fabric around the top half of his face, Casey can see the tiredness etched around his eyes.

And, wait. Cracked a rib? He tries to sit up again and Raph just huffs and wheels himself to the very edge of the bed and places a hand over his chest. He doesn’t even have to apply any pressure whatsoever for Casey to sink back against the cot bed with a hiss.

“Where are the others?” Casey asks, wincing at how gravely his voice sounds. How long was he out?

“Chasing after bacon breath and the dinosaur,” Raph informs him. His hand slides away and goes to fiddling with his wrist wrapping. “How’re you feeling?”

Casey blinks. Okay. Being smacked in the torso by a four hundred rhino at full speed was starting to feel more familiar as the dull ache in his middle was refusing to shift. He feels his face pull into a frown, and Raph catches on because there’s a look of concern blazen across his face and Casey huffs the tiniest of laughs.

“I’m fine,” he assures him. “Really. Just a broken bone.”

Raph huffs, dejectedly, he also throws in a good old eye roll for good measure. 

“Stupid humans and their stupid ribs at the front of their bodies,” he mumbles. “You know, you guys aren't designed very well,” he adds in a more louder voice.

Casey hums. “Yeah well not all of us are lucky to be born with built in armor,” he retorts. Then, “wait, you said the others were going after Bebop and Rocksteady?”

Raph nods, then pins Casey with a look that screams that he’s warning him. “And don’t you dare start bitching about it to me. You can sit this one out, Jones, whether you like it or not. Doctor Donnie’s orders, punk.”

Casey scoffs. “Casey Jones doesn’t sit out and—” he stops himself short. Blinking, he looks to Raph and frowns.

“Wait. You said the others are… out fighting?”

Raph scowls at him, clearly annoyed. “What, you smacked your head as well? Yeah, dumbass I just said that. You sure you’re okay, Case?”

Casey shakes his head. His throat bobs. “No I just mean. They’re out there. You’re… here. With me.”

Raph’s look of annoyance is quickly replaced with something akin to bashfulness. Something he’s eager to hide as he clears his throat and straightens himself up in his chair, he flaps his hands uselessly.

“Yeah well someone needed to keep an eye on your before you got yourself hurt some more or did something crazy or stupid like you always do, and—”

“—you stayed?”

The silence that follows is heavy. The algae pool has never seemed louder.

Raph scoffs and if he was capable of blushing, Casey bets he would be. Maybe as red as his bandana, he just has a feeling and he knows it isn't the meds Donnie probably pumped him full of.

“Just shut up,” Raph mutters under his breath, eyes nervously darting away from his. “Before I break the rest of your stupid bendy bones."

Casey laughs. And it hurts like an absolute bitch, but it’s worth it if it means Raph fussing over him. 

[chickensoup-4-mysoul]

herculean (drrr x f!reader) - chapter 16

Chapter 16 - Fall of the Dragon's Peak

synopsis: you discover the van gang's plan to end this gang war once and for all. determined to save your friends, you insist that you come along.

word count: 3,013

warnings: canon-typical violence

"neon lights, nobel prize when a leader speaks, that leader dies he won't have to follow me only you can set you free,, cult of personality - living colour

It becomes evident to you that you are running pointlessly through the night. Even so, you can’t bring yourself to stop, as time was fleeting, and Anri could easily end up in the hands of danger at any moment. You felt so utterly hopeless. After what felt like a lifetime of running, you finally ease into a brisk walk. You check your phone for any sign from Anri--a call or text, but to no avail. Huffing, you return the device to your pocket, scanning your surroundings. There was no telling how far you had gone.

“Out for an evening walk, are ya?” Your heart leaps into your chest at the voice. However, you quickly calm down as you realize that it’s a voice that you very much recognize. A large vehicle rolls into your peripheral vision, eventually coming to a stop. Erika’s smiling face would usually be soothing to you, but the urgent situation you were in didn’t allow for a moment of ease. However, your dread for Anri’s sake was replaced by a different dread--one elicited by the sight of yellow bandanas around Saburo and Kyohei’s necks. 

You gasp, staggering away from the vehicle. The gang is visibly perturbed by your reaction. Silence hangs heavily in the air as you stare back at each other. However, the tension is broken by Walker’s laughter. “Oh yeah! Kyohei and Saburo look like Yellow Scarves right now!” he laughs. Kyohei and Saburo glance at each other before starting to chuckle themselves. You can only watch them, greatly confused. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it, alright? We’re in disguise.” Your heartbeat begins to slow at Kyohei’s reassurance. You’re clearly still on guard, though. “We’re on our way to the Yellow Scarves hideout. It’s time to put an end to all of this, once and for all.” The Yellow Scarves hideout! If Anri was trying to do what you thought she was, that’s where she was heading. You had to get there, fast.

“Okay, I’m coming with.” You approach the vehicle and Saburo, despite his obvious confusion, opens the door to let you in. Kyohei wearily eyes you as you crawl in next to Erika. “If you say so--but don’t think you’re coming in with us.” 

“What? Kyohei, I have to--it’s important.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? We’re in disguise, you’ll stand out even more than those two.” He nods his head at Walker and Erika, who you notice aren’t wearing bandanas. Honestly, he wasn’t wrong, it only took one glance at you to notice that something was amiss--especially in this stupid patterned shirt. “Got any extra bandanas?” you ask. 

“It’s gonna take more than that,” Kyohei scoffs, but you pay him no mind. Erika reaches into the back of the van and pulls one out, handing it to you. You take it from her, dropping it in your lap for later. “W-woah!” Walker exclaims, quickly covering his eyes. Kyohei looks back at the three of you to see what the commotion is about, but quickly directs his attention forward again. Saburo, after peeking through the rear-view mirror, does the same. Erika, however, is unperturbed. 

You had taken off your shirt in front of her before, after all. Ignoring the embarrassment of the males in the vehicle, you continue to unbutton your top, eventually pulling it off and discarding it. You’re not a bit flustered, considering the fact that you had walked out in tube tops more revealing than the black sports bra you were wearing underneath. You lean over and reach into your backpack, then victoriously pull out the object you were searching for. The black face mask was always in your bag, per the recommendations you had read on numerous traveling forums. After pulling it over your mouth and hooking it behind your ears, half of your face is very well covered. You fold the bandana into a large triangle and pull it over your head, tying it over your hair. 

“This enough?” You ask after tapping Kyohei’s shoulder, prompting him to look at you again. His eyes barely scan your form before he looks away again. He wordlessly unzips his jacket, tossing it back at you. “You’ll attract attention for a different reason. Put this on.” Assuming that you had won this one, you gladly put on the large article of clothing. It’s a little long, but rolling up the sleeves does the trick.

Since Saburo continued driving through the entire exchange, you all arrive soon after. He parks the van around the corner, not wanting to risk blowing your cover. It was a good call--that anime girl on the door could be recognized from a mile away. He grumbles when you point this out to him. You, Kyohei, and Saburo walk the rest of the way to the hideout. 

“What made you want to come so bad, anyway?” Kyohei asks. He’s more willing to look at you now. 

“My friends need help,” you explain simply. Even through your vagueness, he seems to understand, not pressing any further. You can tell when you get closer, because more and more people in yellow begin to join you. The three of you bow your heads, trying your best to blend in.

When you round a corner, your heart stops at the crowd of yellow-clad goons. Exactly how many members of the gang were there? You’d always had the idea that it was a small gang, but it looks like you were wrong. Kyohei did say that they had brought back up, but how much exactly? As the three of you waded through the crowd, you secretly scanned the area, searching for any sign of Anri or Masaomi. “Don’t follow,” Kyohei mutters quietly, before breaking away from the group. Splitting up seemed like a good call, but you don’t know how well you would fare if you were all on your own. You allow for some distance between you and Saburo, but you do your best to keep an eye on him.

The crowd gathers around a stage and you remember Anri’s recollection of what she had seen the night that she snuck in. A man comes forward and the crowd quiets down. You recognize him instantly. Horada surveys the crowd, grinning cockily. His smug demeanor sure doesn’t match his neck brace, or the bandages on his face. Looks like Shizuo had done quite the number on him.

The man sure was ambitious, that’s for sure. Quite the public speaker, as well. The crowd ate up every word he had to say, cheering at every sentence. As you scanned the different people, you noticed some were less enthusiastic than others, and some not cheering at all. Perhaps those were the backup that Kyohei mentioned. Horada intended to extend the gang’s control over not just Ikebukuro, but the entirety of Tokyo. It was a foolish thing to believe, but a part of you grew worried at the notion. 

“That damn Shizuo Heiwajima is gone! The only ones left in the Dollars that are still acting tough are his girl, with Kadota’s Gang!” You shrink at those words. Burying your face into the collar of Kyohei’s jacket, you wearily glance among the crowd, nervous that anyone would notice you. “So, we just gotta crush ‘em--then we’ll hit their leader, Ryuugamine…!”

Anything else he says after that falls on deaf ears. The enthusiastic yells sounding around you are muffled by your own thoughts. Ryuugamine... that wasn’t the Ryuugamine that you knew, was it? No, it couldn’t be! That doesn’t make any sense! 

Emperor of the Dragon's Peak. That name was distinct, so much so that Walker and Erika joked that it had to be a stage name or something. You didn’t quite understand everything about Japanese names, but you suppose it was like having McHunterKnife for a last name. Seeing that it was, in fact, his birth given name, you found it very ironic. Now, as you stand here, surrounded by hollering gang members, you reflected on how revealing it turned out to be. 

Anri is connected to the Slasher.

Masaomi is the head of the Yellow Scarves.

Shy, awkward little Mikado...is the leader of the Dollars. 

Perhaps Celty knew what she was talking about when she turned to Mikado as the solution to the gang war. Where were they now? Would they be okay? Danger was beginning to invade your friends’ lives faster by the minute. Your eyes scanned the crowd for your companions. Kyohei’s gray beanie was hard to spot, and Saburo’s mop of brown hair wasn’t very conspicuous either. Were you surrounded by enemies or companions? The question drove you crazy.

One by one, heads began to turn away from the stage where Horada had just stepped down. Your heart rate spiked, before you realized that everyone’s attention was directed toward the entrance of the warehouse. The crowd parted down the middle, making a path for whatever force had suddenly overtaken the space. From your spot among the rabble, you can barely make out the moving figure as they follow the path. However, a space forms between the people blocking your vision, and you finally make out a head of blonde hair.

Masaomi.

You don’t have to hold back your surprise, as you aren’t the only one shocked by the boy’s appearance. Considering the fact that he was the leader, you expected to see him there--but the look in his eye sent dread shooting through your senses. To your confusion, none of the gang members, Horada included, had the same expectation, staring at the boy incredulously. Masaomi looks over at the crowd, searching everyone’s faces. You anxiously pull the scarf lower over your forehead. 

“What’s going on here!? I don’t even recognize any of you,” the boy gripes. “No one’s taking my calls...what’re you up to??”

“Well, looks like all of the those guys that didn’t want me at the top ended up in the hospital--still recovering!” Horada laughs nonchalantly. “Oh, it was so scary!! Must’ve been the Dollars, right guys?”

Taunting laughter fills the air, and it suddenly occurs to you how...mature it sounded. This wasn’t the same group of scrappy teenagers that roamed the streets weeks ago; These were adults. The ones that crowded around that sleazy Horada and brought the horrors of the Yellow Scarves’ actions to new heights. Those foolish kids were gone now, crushed under the self-serving desires of some greedy slob--and that slob was trying to do the same to Masaomi.

Horada goads Masaomi, having no qualms with rubbing salt into his wounds. You don’t quite understand everything, but you notice how Masaomi bristles at the mention of an ‘Izumii’. It’s very clear that Horada and Masaomi weren’t comrades at all, but enemies. Especially when Horada starts talking about changing the name and color of the gang.

“That’s right! Everyone surrounding you right now? They’re all Blue Squares--the guys you hate!”

Blue Squares… the gang that your van friends had been apart of, but eventually left. They never told you exactly why, but they implied it was because of ‘creative differences’. Judging from the way that Horada was acting, you didn’t blame them for doing so. 

“It’s your own damn fault! All we had to do was take off our blue and ask to join, and you let us in so easily!” The jerks were hooting and hollering now, getting quite the kick out of their own sick antics. You stuffed your trembling hands into your pockets, looking through the mob once more. With everyone causing a commotion, it was easier to spot those who remained still. The closer you looked, the more people you noticed that simply stood quietly amongst the chaos.

Masaomi looks surprisingly unfazed, and when he looks up, you swear that you can see him smiling. He steps forward, causing the group of men closest to him to stagger back. So they’re still wary of him, huh? What exactly is he capable of…

The tall door grinds shut behind him, closing him into the space full of his enemies. He refuses to be cornered, however, continuing to approach Horada. He talks steadily the entire time; a normal life, his past, his fear, a girl he couldn’t save, his readiness to both die...and kill. You choke on a lump in your throat, frantically looking for Kyohei. Now... give the signal now, before he gets hurt!!

No one hears your prayer. In a shoddy attempt of self defense, Horada grabs a crowbar and hurls it at Masaomi. You barely conceal your scream as it collides with Masaomi’s temple. The clatter of metal against concrete rings throughout the warehouse, leaving a thick silence in its wake. A trail of blood trickles down the side of the boy’s face, pooling at his chin. Despite the injury, he remains standing, surprisingly sturdy on his own two feet. Horada, shocked by his resilience, orders his goons to attack the boy. Your viewpoint of the ordeal lessens in clarity as groups of men charge at Masaomi, swinging fists and weapons. It got to a point where you couldn’t see if he was holding his own or not and all you could do was listen to the clamor of grunts, falling bodies, and clashing weapons. Desperation wells up inside you. How could you just stand there and watch? You needed to do something, anything….

Everyone seems too caught up in the spectacle to mind you pushing your way through the crowd. You could see Masaomi now, and boy, did he not look good. Blood streamed past his chin and stained his neck and chest. Your heart squeezed itself at the sight of him on his knees, thoroughly debilitated. The feeling of a hand grasping your wrist stopped you in your tracks. You whirled around to face your captor, dreading the idea that you had been caught. However, you relax slightly when you see that it’s Kyohei. Your eyes flicker to Masaomi’s defeated form, silently begging him to let you go. He only shakes his head, subtly pulling you back to him.

He was right to stop you and you hated it. There was no telling what you were gonna do if you actually got up there, and it would have definitely blown everyone’s cover. That didn’t stop the panic that swelled within you at the sight of the gun that Horada was pointing at Masaomi. Looking at Kyohei, even he looks ready to spring into action, his grip on your wrist loosening.

A large man appears beside Horada, so suddenly that you hadn’t even seen him approach. However, the pipe in his hand that knocks the gun clean out of Horada’s grasp alerts everyone of his presence. You shoot a look at Kyohei, wondering if the man was one of his friends. The look on his face is just as bewildered as yours, however. If he hadn’t brought him, then who was this guy?

Horada grabs the guy by the shirt, shaking him roughly. Rather than cowering in fear, the man rests limply in his hold, head lolling backward. He was speaking coherently, but he seemed so out of it . “Sorry, I just feel like Mother would be upset if you killed this guy. In fact….”

You squint your eyes, staring closely at the man. His eyes were small on his face, but the shine in them was very noticeable. “I sense Mother is going to be here any second.”

The excruciating sound of screeching metal meets your ears and you hiss at the sudden sensation. Confused mutters fill the air as everyone turns to the source of the sound.

The tall, metal door--having just been shut behind Masaomi’s back--beared a large slash right down the middle. The air stilled for a moment, paused and waiting, before the pieces began to topple. A wince jolts your body as the remains assault the ground, ringing out with each impact. Peering through the new entryway, all that could be seen was darkness. Even the streetlights in the distance did very little to reveal the cause of such destruction. However, averting your gaze downward, you finally see her…

In such a large opening, she looks so small in comparison--but her stance implied anything but. Feet perched wide, Anri was clearly on the offensive. Her eyes glared red like two headlights in the dim night. In her hand, catching a glimmer just as bright as her gaze, a long sword rested. A sword capable of cutting clean through pure metal. She surveys the room, frantically searching. Her stern countenance momentarily breaks once her attention reaches the battered boy at the center of it all.

“M-Masaomi!” she cries, vermillion eyes wide with horror. Surprisingly able to move, the boy sluggishly turns to her. He mutters her name, voice so terribly weak. Anri doesn’t move, only capable of staring at Masaomi’s damaged state. Your attention is pulled from the standoff by a unusual noise. It’s so faint that, for a moment, you wonder if you imagined it.

The mass of darkness that whizzes past Anri immediately dispels your suspicions. Even at such a speed, you can still make out Celty’s bright yellow helmet skidding to a halt right beside Masaomi. Looking closely, you suddenly realize that it’s not just Celty occupying the bike. The green colorblock pattern of Mikado’s jacket is alarmingly apparent to you. The three kids stare at each other, sharing a brief moment of recognition. 

The unease welling up within you made you nauseous. No matter how much you tried to reassure yourself, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were in the middle of some sort of climax.

The Headless Rider. The Slasher. A man with superhuman strength. Kyohei Kadota. The van gang. The Raira Trio. A gang war. The Yellow Scarves. The Dollars. The Blue Squares. It had all been building up to something--one big breaking point fixed to overflow at any moment.

Would this be it? All of the tension building, secrets hidden, lives twisted and manipulated--was this the moment that it would all come crashing down?

For some reason, you hoped that it was.

[lanadane1]

About You

(Late November 1984) Chapter 1: The Car Ride

Eddie Munson x female!harrington!reader

Chapter Summary:  In the weeks following the breakup, it’s been hard to not be in contact with Eddie.  You let your desires get the best of you. 

Word Count: 4.2k 

series masterlist here

Chapter warnings: Angst, smoking (reader), nightmare, mention of panic attack or sorts (just reader experiencing triggers), partying, +18 for general mature topics and content

You felt like you were suffocating.  It was a sensory deprivation and overload all at the same time.  

Your goggles were clouded from the particles that floated freely around your head.  You had no idea what that stuff was, and it scared you that it surrounded you like a cloud.  The makeshift mask covering your mouth, nose, and ears felt like it was preventing any kind of airflow to your lungs, making them burn.  It was dark all around you, no sense of direction, and the croaking from the hound like creatures seemed to echo around the tunnel making it impossible to tell where it was coming from.  

You screamed for somebody, anybody, to help you- but your voice was trapped in your throat.  

You leaned against the wall of the small tunnel and sank to the ground, squeezing your eyes shut. Hands clamped over your ears and head between your legs to try to stop the world from spinning.

Suddenly a hand settled on your shoulder blade and your head jerk up.  

There, in all his glory, was him.  Him with his halo of dark curls that framed his face perfectly.  Him with his worn leather jacket that was surprisingly soft and smelt like home.  Him with his snarky smile that made him seem like he always knew something you didn’t. Him with his heart full of love and head full of songs.

“It’s just a dream y/n.”

He knelt to your level and pulled your face into his hands.  He slid the goggles off your eyes and down to hang around your neck along with the bandana mask that was previously suffocating you.  His face was so close to your own that if you moved forward even an inch your lips would brush.  

“You’re perfectly safe. You can wake up.”

And with that command, your eyes drifted open and made contact with the soft light spilling into your room.  You smiled and shuffled down into your sheets as the memory of him was still firm in your mind.  You let yourself revel in the phantom sensation of his lips close to yours before reality hit you.  Like, it did every morning.

The reality that he was not yours anymore.  That he would not be driving you to school.  He would not kiss you at your locker before 1st period.  And since its Tuesday, he would not be driving you to watch a Corroded Coffin gig at the Hideout tonight.  

Ignoring the melancholy that had taken root in your bones for the past few weeks, you rise from your bed and begin another monotonous day.  

Steve and you made your way to school, arriving much earlier than usual.  Steve still hadn’t gotten use to not having to pick up Nancy on the way and this threw off your schedule a bit.  As you pulled into the lot- one of the first ones there for the umpteenth time this week month- Steve sighed to himself.  

“Well, this essay will not write itself.  Sure you don’t wanna keep me company in the library?”

“We both know that’s code for wanna fuck around so I can avoid my responsibilities, Stevie.”

You both chuckle as he swats your shoulder and reaches for his backpack in the back seat.

“Always a ray of sunshine y/n.  You’re still the one whose gonna proofread it for me out of the goodness of your heart.” He crooned to you while stepping out of the car.  

“The weathers nice so I think I’ll read on the bench till class.” You give him a half-hearted smile.

He gives you a small sad smile.  He is well aware that Eddie and you would frequent that bench before school almost daily.

“Old habits die hard.” You admitted and shrugged, the urge to defend your somewhat pathetic behavior bubbling up in your chest.  

You grab your backpack and exited the car in a fluid move that had you gliding towards the picnic bench towards the side of the parking lot.  Once arrived, you rifled through your bag to find your favorite book and Walkman.  A slow melody filled your ears as you dive in, forgetting your surroundings and circumstances.  A craving burrowed into your bones right alongside the melancholy, though.  

It’s a craving for him.  The craving for the comfort he brings.  A craving for home.  

An insatiable craving that cannot seem to be quenched.  You have unfortunately found comfort in smoking, however.  The smell of the cigarette envelopes you in the aroma of him- lulling the buzz in your body for him.  

Yet, of course, last night you had used your last smoke and not had time to buy another pack before school this morning.  So, you sat on the bench with your book clenched in your cold hands, bending the pages, as the craving consumed your body and left you with not a thing to do about it.

So, it was going to be one of those days.

Just as the buzzing settled to a low hum, a screeching broke through the music playing in your ears. The sound of Dio clashed unsettlingly with the Tears for Fears song in your ears and a rickety van pulled into its usual spot in the lot.  As he pulled into his usual spot in the lot.  The sight of his van brought thoughts of him like a tsunami in your brain. You clenched your book even harder, as if it were the only thing keeping you anchored to earth during this assault of memories on your psyche.

So, it was really going to be one of those days.

He put the vehicle in park and you watched the van as it thrummed with energy.  You felt akin to the car.  Thrumming with energy but unable to move anywhere.  

You knew you would regret the ultimate hurt the decision you were about to make was going to bring you, but you couldn’t find enough cons to out way the pros in your mind.  

I need a cigarette. I know he will have one.  I have been going mad not talking to him or seeing him.  Just one conversation will hold me over for a while.  Who cares if I have a breakdown afterwards- the high of the moment is going to feel so good.

Before you could even really decide, your legs were already moving you away from the bench and towards the van you know so well.  

Before you could even really decide, your hand was coming up to knock at the glass window of the driver’s side door.  

Before you could even really decide, you were jerking him awake from his cat nap in the driver’s seat before a long day at school.  

It took him a moment to calm down from the initial scare of the knock startling him awake.  Once he realized who was the perpetrator of the knock, his pulse picked up again.  

Eddies eyes widened and he blinked in disbelief at who was standing in front of him, and he frantically rolled his window down to destroy the barrier between you two.  

You both stared into each other’s eyes for a minute before daring to break to silence.  You found a frail voice in the back of your throat and whispered out a small hi to him.

He took in the sound of your voice, ringing like a bell and replenishing his frazzled mind before greeting you back.  You look down to your feet awkwardly before looking back up to him.

“I know this is weird but I- I was wondering if you didn’t mind me bumming a cigarette off of you?” you mumbled out.

“I- well- You smoke?” he stuttered out.

“Recently yea.” His eyes darkened understanding the implications of your words.

“Well, I- um yea. I’ve got one.”

He turned to his glove compartment and shuffled around for a moment.  The black shirt he worse stretched across the expanse of his back and highlighted his muscles moving under his luscious skin.  

You’d been practically drooling by the time he turned back around with a cigarette in hand.  He reached out to hand you the smoke stick as you extended your arm and met in the middle.  Your fingers brushed each other’s as you made the exchange- lighting your skin on fire.  Even the smallest amount of contact had you wanting to jump into the car right through the window and hold him so close that you would fuse together.  

“Thanks.” You mutter out as you hold it between your fingers, rolling it anxiously.

You slowly, and very awkwardly, began to turn around and back away from his van when it seemed that neither of you were going to say anything else.  

Make her stay, make her stay, make her stay His mind rattled.

“Well, um, do you need a light?” Eddie offered up as he sensed you about to leave.

“Oh I’m- actually I’m good I’ve got one in my bag.”

“Right cool.”

“Thanks though.”

“Yea no problem.”

You both stared again.

“So, um I guess how- “

“Don’t ask me how I’m doing Eds.  I think we both know the answer.”

“Then it’s good thing I was gonna ask how long you’d been smoking.” He halfheartedly chuckled out.

Your heart dropped into your stomach as tears welled up into your eyes.  Of course, he wasn’t asking you how you were.  He broke up with you, he doesn’t care.  

“Oh right. It’s been like- wow I don’t know this is so embarrassing I can’t think,” you chuckle to yourself while gazing down to the asphalt under your feet.  

Eddie could tell you were in distress; he could read you like a book.  Regret flooded his body over his snide comment that reduce you to this stuttering mess in front of him.  Desperately, he tried to backtrack.

“No but I want to know that too- I just figured you wouldn’t wanna talk about that.  I figured you wouldn’t wanna talk to me period.  I can’t believe you’re here and speaking to me.”

“Neither can I.  My feet just kind brought me here.”

“I miss talking to you. I mean it’s weird going from talking to you every single day to not at all.”

“I miss talking to you too.”

You both knew what you really meant.

Eddies hands toyed with the rings that adorned his fingers, twisting and fidgeting with them in an attempt to release the anxiety in his chest.  

After you walked out of his trailer that night, he knew he made a mistake.  He let his issues get the better of him and it finally messed up the best thing in his life- you.  He knew he shouldn’t have pushed you to tell him and trusted you to explain everything eventually.  It was evident that this was not something easy you could tell him.  They way you were pleading with him that it wasn’t safe for him to know yet and the look in your eye made it apparent to him, only after the fact, that this was serious.  Something major happened, and it messed you up.  This was bigger than you or him.  And rather than being there for you when you needed him to pick up the pieces, he broke you apart further.  

“Maybe we could… like… talk then? Sometime?”  

You sucked in a breath and pause.  Debating. Weighing your options.  Deciding if the heartbreak is worth it.  

“Eventually yea.  I’d really like to.” You give him a meek smile. A beam of hope.

“Good. Cool.  Whenever, no rush.” He means it.  You believe him.  

________________________________________________________________

The week flew by uneventfully.  That’s how they seem to be as of late.  You wake up, you go to school, sometimes you’ll have cheer practice after, you go home and go to bed.  Rinse and repeat.  You’ve only just now finally found the will to start engaging with your friends again. Nancy was there for you as best as she could- but it was difficult when she couldn’t enter your house in fear of coming face to face with Steve.  

But this week seemed to be a little different.  After your encounter with Eddie, you could feel his eyes on you everywhere you went.

You could see his subtle glances towards you in English and you could feel his stare across the lunchroom. His watchful eye ignited something in you that you hadn’t felt for what seemed to be an eternity.  It was hope.  Hope that he would wave to you in the hallway.  Hope that he would pass you a note.  Hope that he would offer you a cigarette.  But it was also anxiety.  Anxiety that he would watch you silently until he graduated in the spring- assuming he finally graduates this time.  Anxiety that he was waiting for the perfect moment to tell you he had moved on and was letting you go.  But you would take the bittersweet emotions over the numbness that inhabited your body like a parasite.  

The end of the week drained you, however.  

You jogged the sidewalk of your neighborhood, an afternoon exercise ritual you tried to participate in as often as possible.  You found the adrenaline and endorphins of the activity helped to unfog your mind and raise your spirits.  

Every so often, the setting Sun would brush your eyes, momentarily blinding you.  As you rounded the corner of Shirley and Maplewood, the Sun obstructed your vision harshly, making your surroundings impossible to perceive.  It was in this instant that Mr. Berkley’s dog, Flash, decided it was the perfect moment to bark as loudly as he could at your movement.  

The sound of the growl startled you, and as your spotting vision flickered towards the black hound, your temporary blindness comprehended the dog and something it wasn’t.  A creature.  The kind the kids found in October.  The kind from the tunnels.  

For a split second you brain told you This is a demo-dog.  You are in danger.  If it’s this close to you, you’re already dead.

The scream that ripped from your chest was instinctual and piercing.  The tears that sprung from your eyes were involuntary and violent, just like your collapse to the ground.  

You registered what had happened, picked yourself up, and jogged off with tears in your eyes before Mr. Berkley or a neighbor could exit their houses to question you and your seemingly bizarre behavior.  

Maybe I’ll give running a break you decided.

And stay away from dogs.

________________________________________________________________

The weekend brought better fortune.  You made an appearance at a party with your friend, Chrissy, but didn’t stay long.  

“I think I’m gonna head home Chris.” You muttered into her ear as you found her smushed against a wall in a pack of cheerleaders and basketball players, all rambling on overzealously about the typical gossip and trying not to puke on each other.

She looked into your eyes and understood.  Your social battery was drained.  You had no more energy left in you to pretend that you were okay.  You had no more energy left to pretend that you weren’t praying to every force in the universe that he would walk through that door and take you away.  But he didn’t and he wasn’t going to.  

She pulled away from the huddle of drunken teenagers and hugged you close.

“Hey, you did good.  A whole hour!  Now that’s what I call progress.” She gave you a radiant smile and you returned it with a limp one of your own.

You stalked out of the house with your head down as to avoid getting roped into any conversation. Once on the safety of the porch, you finally rose your head all the way up to the sky and breathed in the chilly night air.  You wrapped your jacket tighter around your body and reached into your pockets to put on your gloves.  As you reached in your hand was met with a crinkled cylindrical stick.  You removed it from your pocket and there in your palm rested the cigarette Eddie gave you.  

After the conversation that one morning, you completely forgot about the cigarette- leaving it unsmoked.  You put it in your mouth and reached into your purse to find your lighter.  A minute of hopelessly rummaging through it informed you that it was not on your person.  

“Dammit Stevie.” You muttered, taking the cigarette out of your mouth to have it lazily relax between your index and middle finger.  

You recalled just how your lighter was taken from you forcefully by your brother on the night of the tunnels.  They needed fire to ignite the gasoline and to complete the mission you involuntarily sacrificed it in the process.  A shudder passes through your body- not from the chilly night air.  You closed your eyes and leaned upon the banister of the porch to steady yourself.

A voice drifts towards you, carried out of the dark expanse of the night in front of you by the winter wind- rescuing you from the dark memory, “Finally need that light?”

Your eyes snap up. Emerging from his beat-up van was the man you’d been praying to see all night.  You heart skipped a beat, and it took you a moment to respond.  “Oh um, yea I guess I do, now.”  

He slinked towards you in that way in only Eddie did.  His body moved fluidly and confidently, almost feline like, as he approached your shivering figure on the doorstep.  He produced a metal lighter and ignited the cigarette you had placed back to your lips. You muttered a thank you and took the first inhale as he clinked the metal contraption shut and stuffed it back into the pocket of his leather jacket.  

He paused a moment and watched you.  Eddie always liked to watch you do trivial things like washing dishes, taking notes, or riffling through your bag.  He appreciated your existence and observed you like the most fascinating creature in the world.  His breath left his body at the sight of your lips wrapped around the smoke stick, a sight he’d never seen before, and tilt your head to the side to expel the air.  

After a beat you worked up the courage to break the silence.  “So, what brings you to this neck of the woods?”  He smiled at your question.  “My services were required.  Donnie promised me double for making a house call.” “I see I see.” You nodded your head awkwardly.  

“Are you leaving?”

“Yea I’m not really in the party mood.  I was just about to walk- “

“Walk?” He interrupted you. “Y/n you were not seriously about to walk home from here.”

Your eyes rolled, “It’s like a mile and a half.”

“Can’t Steve come get you?””

“He’s busy and I’m fine.  I’m a big girl and I walk home by myself.” You insisted laughing at his franticness.

“It’s pitch black out.” “It’s 7:30 Eds.”

His voice hitched in the back of his throat at the sound of his nickname.  He decides to potentially cross a boundary that exes shouldn’t cross.

“Let me drive you home. I’ll be 5 minutes just enough to drop off with Donnie, get my cash and get out.”

You hesitate.  “You really don’t have to do that.”  “I would sleep better tonight knowing I didn’t leave you trek across dangerous lands all by your lonesome.”

“This is Lock Nora Eddie. It’s more Hundred Acer Woods than Mirkwood.”  You chuckle out.

You both laugh at your remark.  Then the silence creeps back in.  But it’s not awkward this time.  Its comfortable like a warm blanket had been wrapped around the two of you.  You look into his eyes and discover the seriousness to his request.  

“Only if it’s not an inconvenience.”  

“You’re never an inconvenience y/n.”

Silence.

“Wait here and finish up. I’ll be 5 minutes.”  

He enters the house and takes the warm blanket with him, leaving you alone again on the freezing porch with a half-burnt cigarette in your fingers.

************

The car ride brought on the strongest bout of déjà vu you’d ever experienced.  Apparently, nobody had been a passenger since the breakup because the seat was still in the perfect position for you.  The music he usually blasted was reduced to a low hum that drifted throughout the cavernous car and his driving was abnormally slow and safe- as it always was when you were present.  

The moment was a perfect replica of so many late-night car rides, except your thigh lacked his strong grip on it and his face was now replaced with an anxious grimace instead of a content grin.  

You swallowed the lump in your throat and willed yourself to speak.  “So, how’s Wayne?”  

Eddies body relaxed into his seat as your voice filled his ears.  As he basked in your presence, he reminded himself that he might not have another opportunity to talk to you in such an intimate setting ever again or at least for a long time- so he needed to man up and respond.  

“He’s good but tired. He picked up a bunch of late shifts for his buddy whose wife had a baby- but the extra cash is nice.”  

“He ever figure out where he left is tweedy bird mug?”

Eddie grinned at the memory of the three of you ransacking the slovenly trailer for any sign of his uncle’s precious yellow mug.  “Yea he brought it over to a neighbor while sharing a smoke and left it.  Damn near cried when they called saying they had it.” “That man and his mugs.” You giggle out.

“How’s Steve?  Heard Wheeler and him split.” Eddie cautiously inquired hoping to not drudge up any undesirable topics in the little time he had with you.  You closed your eyes and sighed at the thought of your brother’s pain.  “Yea it’s been difficult for him.  He just doesn’t know what to do.  He was sad about it and he still loves her, but he’s moved on from the initial heartbreak and he’s left in this sort of limbo right now. It’s stressing him out- and on top of that he’s trying to figure out colleges and what his plan for next year is.” You admitted to him in a word vomit- try to avoid the nitty gritty details of the breakup seeing as his situation mirrored yours and Eddies.  

“Man, that’s tough.  I can’t even think about my plan I just gotta see if I can make it through this semester let alone graduate or go to college.” Eddie chuckled out in a lighthearted jest.  “Eddie- “

“I know I know y/n the whole shpeal about my potential.  I get it and I really thank you for believing in me, but I’ve got bigger fish to fry than fucking high school right now.”

“What could be more important than trying to pass Eds?” You questioned him exasperatedly, gazing upon his profile- eyes transfixed on the road.  “I can think of a few things.” he snuck a glance at you out of the corner of his eye only to be met with the sight of your cheeks dusted in a red hue- like a polaroid developing in front of his eyes.  Your gaze returned to the road and you both stared at the inky night that stretched before you.  

“I just want the best for you Eds.  I get it’s not my place anymore, but I can’t just stop caring about you and being invested in your life like flipping a switch off.  That’s not how it works.”  You muttered defensively about your intrusion on his plans.  “You don’t have to be sorry for caring about me y/n and certainly don’t have to ever stop.”  

The car stopped moving. His statement shocked you so deeply you didn’t even realize you’d arrived home, his van parked at the edge of your lawn.  The lights illuminating the windows of your home we warm and inviting- beckoning you to come inside and escape the unpleasant car ride you’d endured if only to be in Eddie’s presence for a split second.  Your hand wrapped around the handle of the door, and you craned your neck around to peer at his face.  You were met with an expression you’d never seen cross Eddies face before- it was one of a thousand words all trapped within the confides of his body: chest, brain, mouth, lungs, tongue.  

You couldn’t discern a single thing he wanted to tell you, but you understood none the less.  You turned the corners of your mouth upward in a petite smile and thanked him for the ride.  He shook his head up and down wordlessly and tried to pin you to your seat in the van with his gaze.  Unfortunately, it didn’t work, and you exited the car- swiftly and quietly, leaving Eddie alone yet again.  

He couldn’t understand what brought him to this moment.  How he let his emotions get the better of him.  How he let you get away from him.  How he let you just walk out of his van without pleading for forgiveness and a second chance.  All he knew was that the world would not be right until you were back and his arms, and he vowed to himself that he would reconcile with you if you would have him; just as soon as he worked up the balls.  Which might take a while.

He sighed, rubbed his eyes in an irritated manner and put his van in drive, steering himself away from you and towards the isolation of his empty trailer.  

Alone again.

________________________________________________________________

So excited for the next chapter (it’s truly so long get ready) :)))))

[witchofthescions]

The barrier flared to life, a wall of interlocking hexagons climbing through the air higher and higher.

"…Four thousand," one of the Ironworks engineers called out. "Five thousand! Target altitude reached! The barrier is holding steady at five thousand yalms! We’ve done it!"

As the barrier reached the optimal size, the wall disappeared into the air. Erna was sure Y'shtola would still have been able to make out the aetheric signature of it, had she been present.

While the engineers cheered and congratulated each other on a successful deployment, something rapidly approached their position. Erna and her friends strained to get a good look at it.

"Is that an imperial airship?" Alisaie remarked. "Of all the rotten timing."

"But this is a gift, Mistress Alisaie." Hien grinned. "They can test our new wall for us!"

Sure enough, the ship collided with the invisible wall, a ripple of hexagons briefly radiating out from the impact site. Sparks flew as the ship tried to push its way past, before its pilot gave up and retreated slightly to find a safer place to land.

"Seems solid enough. Though I was hoping for a fireball," Hien remarked with a hint of disappointment.

"Well, it gets the point across either way," Erna remarked.

"True..."

Hien trailed off as the ship's hatch opened and a figure stepped out. Or, rather, two figures. A tall man carrying a smaller figure.

Alisaie squinted for a moment, studying the two intently, before letting out a gasp. "By the gods... It's Alphinaud!"

Erna's heart dropped. Oh no. It must have been the last Calling. She forgot that it had such a large range—oh gods, what if Alphinaud had been affected by the previous two? He'd been out all the way on fucking Othard, out of contact with the other Scions. How terrifying that must have been...

Alisaie and Erna both leapt forward, but Hien grabbed their arms and pulled them back. Alisaie rounded on him, teeth bared and eyes flashing.

"What are you—Let me go! He has my brother!"

"Lower the barrier!" Hien barked at the engineers. Right, of course. Not much point in rushing over if they couldn't even reach him.

Once the barrier was down, Hien released the two young women. Alisaie was off like a shot, with Erna not far behind.

"Alphinaud!" they called out as they approached.

Hien and Gohnoh'a trailed behind. The stranger eyed the two in front, his gaze especially focused on Ernastral. Hien called over one of the engineers, telling them to take Alphinaud to the nearest medical station.

"Be at ease, girl," the stranger said as Alisaie began fussing over her twin. "The lad is not dead—merely locked in slumber."

Erna reached for Alphinaud, brushing a bit of his hair out of his face. The rise and fall of his chest confirmed the man's words, and the brief contact with his cooling skin confirmed her worst fear.

"No, not him too," Alisaie said, voice wavering.

The engineer Hien enlisted took Alphinaud from the man and whisked him off to be examined. Erna wrapped her arms around herself, silently regretting not even considering the possibility that Alphinaud might be taken, too.

"We could identify no cause and found no remedy," the stranger explained. Erna glanced up at him. He was an older, darker-skinned Garlean man—the third eye was a dead giveaway. He was clad in a red coat, with an orange bandana around his neck. A gunblade was strapped to his back, and he carried himself like a soldier. Something about him struck Erna as familiar, but she couldn't quite place what. "Thus I sought to return him to Doma—" he nodded to Hien as the young lord drew closer, "—and into the arms of Lord Hien himself, it would seem."

He regarded Erna with a similar expression of vague recognition, before something seemed to click. "It is a day for fated reunions, would you not agree, adventurer?" Wait a second. "Or should I address you as the 'Warrior of Light'?"

Erna squinted, giving the Garlean another once over. Her eyes drifted to the collection of masks at his waist, most of them Ascian. Some red, some black. But there was another mask, a white one. A white mask that she realized was very, very familiar to her.

"Gaius van Baelsar?!" Erna exclaimed, taken aback.

"As in the Black Wolf, Gaius van Baelsar?" Gohnoh'a remarked, glancing between the two with a raised eyebrow.

Gaius nodded. "Aye. That was the title I was given. One I have long since relinquished."

Everyone tensed up, some reaching for their weapons while others simply looked ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. Gaius held up a hand.

"Stand down. The legatus of the XIVth Imperial Legion died in Castrum Meridianum. I am no more than Gaius Baelsar, a man without rank or allegiance."

"How in the seven hells did you survive?" Erna blurted out.

Gaius met her gaze. "Do you remember how it unfolded?"

"Yeah, the place fuckin' exploded."

Gaius let out a huff of a laugh despite himself. "That's certainly one way of putting it. Everything exploded in my face, both literally and metaphorically. The Ascian Lahabrea deceived me into furthering his own plans to revive his wretched god. And yet, even with the might of Allag at my command, you and your compatriots bested me." He paused, glancing to Alisaie and Gohnoh'a for a moment. "...Compatriots who appear to be absent at the moment."

"Long story," Erna said with a shrug. A story I ain't keen to share with you right now. Though, considerin' the circumstances...

"And as the Praetorium went up in flames, I was content to burn along with it... for a moment, at least."

"It must be rather demoralizing to see your... home base going up in flames around you," Gohnoh'a remarked. His tone was even, but there was a hint of a bite behind it. Whether Gaius caught it or not, he failed to acknowledge it, simply shrugging.

"'Twas but a moment of folly. To surrender my life thus would have been to betray all who died for my cause. It was for them that I dragged myself free of the rubble, and swore vengeance on the Ascians."

He took the white mask, the one that had once adorned his armor, and tossed it on the sands at Erna's feet.

"The Black Wolf has shed his pelt, never to return to Garlemald or her legions. I live now only to exact revenge."

Gohnoh'a turned away with a quiet scoff and muttered under his breath. "How noble."

"My principle quarry was to be Lahabrea, whom I gather you have since ushered unto oblivion," Gaius continued.

Erna awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck, glancing away. "More or less," she muttered. Now did not seem the time to quibble over little details like the fact that it was technically the Archbishop who dealt the killing blow, because she'd already overplayed her hand on Lahabrea's partner.

"But so many more remain. Long has their kind lurked in the shadows, laboring to sow chaos throughout our world. I would see each and every one dragged into the light and put to the sword. Are the Scions not of like mind?"

"In this single respect, perhaps," Alisaie replied.

"Then I shall continue the partnership the boy began, and share what intelligence I have acquired."

[astra-galaxie]

"Now, we just need to get it on the back! Want to help me, Gigantor (Fili)?" - Danyon Wilson

Biographical information

Full Name: Danyon Wilson

Gender: Demi boy

Sexuality: Gay

Status: Alive

Age: 18 (season 1)

Birth: 1995

Race: Human

Nationality: American

Origin: Fairview, Grimsborough, USA

Residence: Fairview, Grimsborough, USA

Profession(s): High School Student

Partner(s): Noah Smith (boyfriend) (deceased)

Affiliation(s): Fairview High School LGBTQ+ Club

Profile

Height: 5'9" Age: 18 (season 1) Weight: 147lbs Eyes: green Blood: O-

Danyon is a teenager with short, curly brown hair shaved on the left side. He has bright green eyes and a blinding smile that can light up a room. In his case appearance, he wears dark blue shorts with teal suspenders, light blue sneakers with rainbow socks, a blue tank top with a darker vest, and a turquoise bandana around his neck. He also has multiple rainbow bracelets on his wrists, a heart-shaped earring in his right ear, and spare miniature flags in a bag attached to his belt.

As per his suspect appearance in The Ways of Death, it is known that Danyon has read Animal Farm, eats Nanaimo bars, and uses hair dye.

Synopsis

Danyon was the boyfriend of the late Noah Smith and a high school student at Fairview High School. He was the president of the school's LGBTQ+ club and an active member of the Grimsborough pride community. He volunteered at many local events in support of his fellow LGBTQ+ members and always looked forward to wearing his rainbow colours.

He met Noah at a rally outside of Grimsborough after convincing his parents to let him and his friends go for the weekend. He was surprised to see Noah there as he had heard stories about the man bullying others for their "differences." And yet, there was Noah decked out in rainbow colours, smiling and having fun with his friends. He couldn't believe his eyes, so he decided to talk to Noah and find out who he really was.

After the first awkward conversation, Danyon and Noah exchanged phone numbers and began texting. Soon they became friends and later boyfriends. They discovered they had a lot in common, and Danyon learned about the Noah behind the mask. He was pleasantly surprised by how friendly Noah was once you got to know him and loved his tiny nervous laugh.

Danyon began helping Noah to apologize to those he hurt in the past. When Noah returned to Grimsborough for the culture festival, Danyon introduced him to his friends and members of the Grimsborough LGBTQ+ community. It was hard for others to accept that Noah wasn't the man they thought he was, but they gave him a chance to redeem himself.

When Danyon learned of his boyfriend's murder, he was heartbroken. He had JUST been talking to Noah at lunch, and while his boyfriend complained of a stomach ache, Danyon never thought Noah was actively dying! He wishes he had stayed with Noah; maybe then they would have realized something was wrong and could have gotten him to the hospital in time to save him. But Danyon will never know if that would have saved his boyfriend…

After Noah's father was arrested, Danyon was furious at the man. How could he kill his own son just because Noah loved another man?! It wasn't fair! Noah was doing so much to turn his life around, and this was how fate repaid him?! He should have been alive, graduated from university, and started a career; maybe even he and Danyon could have gotten married! But now, those dreams can never come true…

But even if Noah was now gone, Danyon is happy that his boyfriend got the justice he deserved. He vowed to do everything he could to ensure Noah's true self lived on in his memory and even has plans to one day create a foundation for youth in need in honour of Noah. He knows it will take time, but he doesn’t doubt that Noah will be watching over him. Danyon hopes one day, they will be able to reunite on the other side and be together again, happy and safe in each other's embrace.

Story Information

First appeared: The Ways of Death

Trivia

His name comes from two IRL gay men that I know

Likewise, his personality is based on the two of them

He aspires to be an elementary school teacher and do cosmetology on the side

He has a condition that is making his hair turn prematurely gray, so he dyes it brown

I themed his clothes after the gay flag (a mixture of greens and blues)

Disclaimer: Character design was created using Rinmarugames Mega Anime Avatar Creator! I have only made minor edits to the design! Background courtesy of CriminalArtist5

Links to my stories:

The Case of the Criminal (Ao3/Wattpad) Killer Bay (Ao3/Wattpad) Where in the World are the Killers? (Ao3/Wattpad)

[hepbaestus]

Thoughts on Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery (2022) SPOILERS AHEAD

I just got back from a 7+ hour trip back to my uni accommodation and the amount of Glass Onion tiktoks that I've been getting are astounding. So I'm going to watch it.

All I know about this film is that Benoit Blanc is very gay and is in a relationship with Phillip (Hugh Grant's character). (Is that canon?)

This was filmed during Covid? Nice.

That's the actress for Agatha Harkness in Wandavision!

Oooo she's a governor.

He FAXES??? Jesus Christ, that is old.

Child = NFT??? that's quite hilarious.

Breaking Covid rules? As expected.

I already love Peg.

DAVE BATISTA??? HELLO?

this is the best character introduction to a character.

Dukey? What a cute nickname from his mum.

The breastification of America? What a sentence. (That was also difficult to spell)

Hell yeah, his mum's a badass.

Oooo fancy.

This box is fancy schmancy.

I like their interactions, they seem really human.

I want to meet this Miles Bron. He seems like a fun dude.

"My beautiful disruptors." I love that.

Oh. Of course Miles is dead. Bruh.

Oh no. One of their friends is alone.

I mean, that's one way of opening it that's for sure.

Really? Among us?

Benoit Blanc has a bath fez? That's brilliant.

The old hags playing Among Us is quite funny.

QUIPLASH? AS IN QUIPLASH FROM JACKBOX? hell yeah

Haven't left the bath for a week???

That was Cain's Jawbone on the floor with it's pages missing. Did this fucking man figure out the true way it's supposed to be read?

I love the rubber duckie on the edge of the bath.

No one straight wears a bandana around their neck like that. Or at least none that I know.

The different modes of travel suits each character. Of course she's not wearing a mask.

I don't know if I like the accent.

The reactions to this spray shot thing? Especially Benoit's, you can tell that he's had experience with things in the back of his throat unlike the others.

Oooooo a slap band.

Oh she left Alpha?

Oooo the sad lady again. She's clearly pitted to be the odd one out, probably going to end up being the main suspect or something similar.

The reference to Social Network oml.

AYO?? GLASS SCULPTURES FROM THE SEA

Also the name of the island; Pisceshite. Clearly meaning "piece of shit". I love this film so much already.

The running across the pier reminds me of Mamma Mia

The necklace? Sure dude.

The tension between Miles and Andi? Oof.

Miles looks like he's just in pajamas.

I love Derol. He's just there.

It is just a rich-asshole house.

Oh the slap band is a biorhythm monitor.

Andi's haircut is really cool.

That is very trippy.

I love that the detective has so many questions and stuff about the island.

"Simple children's puzzles."

I'm curious as to what chakra the others got assigned.

Benoit's outfit. Bro that's a homsexual.

Not Jared Leto of all people.

I love this awkward wading in the water.

Benoit's uncomfortableness when Birdie sits way too close to him. Like can y'all not see that he's a homsexual? Look at the outfit for crying out loud.

Dukes is on Twitch? Nice.

So what I'm gathering from this speech is that I would hate all of them if they were real life people.

Evidently, Andi has some seeming common sense of humility.

Of course Duke also got banned on Twitch.

Peg's is just trying to keep her job.

Of course, hiding behind a statue with it's butt just freely showing.

Oh shit.

The superman tattoo on the finger. Nice.

Is that a Ronald McDonald painting series??

The classic red cup

Andi's outfit. I love it.

HE HAS THE MONA LISA IN HIS HOUSE.

The Louvre closed?

Derol's back! My boy!

There's always one that doesn't know the answer. He like me fr.

Claire doesn't like Klear.

Oh shit, Lionel really doesn't like this.

HE JUST HAS THE FRONT OF A GREEK TEMPLE BEHIND HIS DINING TABLE?

IRL Cluedo time

Already starting the game.

Has he already completed it. Jesus Christ, this man is good.

I wonder why people don't tell you the truth anymore .

Of course Take Me Home, Country Roads is playing.

The cool turkey bone brooch thing that Lionel's wearing on his suit. The bone you pull and whoever gets the longer piece is lucky/gets a wish. (That was the worst explanation of it that I've ever seen)

The Mona Lisa's protection thing is going quicker, Miles or someone's about to die. This is where shit goes down.

I knew it

Rip Duke.

Is he choking? Nah shit.

Of course they're trying to cover their own asses.

Now they're going to be moving everything and ruining the scene.

Rip Andi.

That happens at 10 o'clock.

That close-up shot of the Mona Lisa is irking me.

Hugh Grant!!! Man's is just baking for his boyfriend.

Trauma dumping to a random stranger? Like every twitch chat I see.

Why is Andi's body on the gurney and then why is she alive for the party?

A journal since she was six? The dedication of this woman.

Oh wait, sad lady is Andi's twin.

Fuck. No.

Shit so that means both Brand twins are dead.

The good ol' Ted Talks.

I love that Lionel was a substitute teacher before all this shit.

They all betrayed her.

Whiskey has no thought to what she's saying.

She puts on a front.

I love that she's just downing the 9% alcohol.

Serena Williams???

Peg. Poor Peg. Birdie doesn't give a shit about her.

Derol! Turns out he has it.

Ayo what?

Jeremy Renner??

I am confusion.

Oh wait, she's not dead

It's really cool that we're also left out of the story.

That's so cool oh my god!

That son of a bitch.

Fuck bro. No.

Something is going to get thrown at the Mona Lisa and there'll be a camera in it.

That's a cool shot.

Oh shit the hydrogen gas thingy that this entire building runs on!

What a nice fire show!

The car!

I love slow shots where everything is going to shit. It's surprisingly beautiful.

Finally they're on Andi's side.

I like the lil portraits during the credits, very Cluedo style

Overall score: 9.7/10 this is such a good film

Recommendations welcome!

[spilledreality]

Outer Banks S1E1: Pilot

The first minute starts in media res, but if you pay close enough attention, you’re front-loaded with the basics. John B.—tan, sandy blonde surfer hair—is balancing on a roof in white All-Star high-top Converse. We see him standing at the structure’s very apex, one foot down, the other floating in empty space. He's framed by the sky and the ocean—it's just him, the roof, and the horizon, so that he resembles Caspar David Friedrich's Wanderer above the Sea of Fog. His arms are spread slightly, to help him balance, or like wings with which to fly, or like a crucifixion pose. He's all of these things this season: trying to keep the balance; trying to lift off and leave the ground behind; trying to be a martyr. It all gets set up here, PBR can in-hand, as his fellow Pogues try to keep the mood light-hearted while running damage control, talking him out of his insanities. "That's what, a three-story fall to the deck? I give you about a one in three chance of survival," says Pope, who's sheltered, but has the tightest-screwed head among this show’s regularly unhinged cast. John B. sticks an index finger in his mouth, wetting it with saliva and holding it up to the wind to see which way it blows. He's got a ragged blue bandana around his neck, his whole get-up matching the PBR can—they're laying the "working class" on thick—and asks rhetorically whether he should do it. J.J., backwards red cap, PBR can, some beaded bracelets, camo cut-offs with cargo pockets, raises his eyebrows, stays out of it on the sidelines while Pope, in his cardinal button-up—buttoned to the neck even the collars are fastened down—hoists an electric drill, revs it up, tries to keep the situation under control but casual through irony. "Yeah, you should jump; I'll shoot you on the way down," holding up the drill, as we put together that the gang’s snuck illegally into a construction site.

So that’s the boys. Warm beer and transgressed boundaries. Balanced on the brink of catastrophe and wondering if they should jump. Testing each other’s limits of caring under a mask of indifference. J.J. knows John B. best, which is why he's staying out of it; he's been through a suicidal shit-tests or two in his time, and knows instinctively, i how way recklessness is performed to get a rise. He’s been there before himself, and his old man didn’t give two shits, so why should he? Next we’re intro’d to Kiara, a girl in Boysland, so we immediately know three things: (1) She’s not like the other girls, i.e. she can hang (2) She’s in love with one of the boys, and one of the boys is in love with her (3) It’s not the same boy. But she's also way more than this; despite these tropeish reductions—which are really not about her, so much as they're about the structural dynamics of both real life and teenage drama—this show demonstrates an admirable Zoomer television trait, which is the ability to half-imagine men and women being friends in a way that isn’t inevitably undermined by sexuality. Mind you, it doesn’t fully manage this—teen drama is teen drama, teens want what teens want, and the show, post-S1, jumps its shark pretty thoroughly. But it half-manages, for a while. 

Kiara—and this is more stereotype now, but an admiring stereotype, like "feminine intuition" or “Asian academic excellence”—cares a lot about the environment, about sea turtles and the great Pacific trash-island and global warming. She stalks out from the under-construction Kook infrastructure, emerging behind drywall and ducking under scaffolding. "They're gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers." J.J.: "Of course they are, why wouldn't they?" Kiara: "This used to be a turtle habitat." I like this from J.J.—it’s an underwhelming first line, in some sense; everyone from John B to Pope to Kiara has gotten their proper, character-defining intro, and J.J. has been apparently overlooked, but something important about his character is being relayed here. Kiara can still be surprised and disappointed by the world’s falling short of her personal ideals. J.J. is long, long past that. 

Kiara, as the lone woman, is also the one comfortable with, you know, straight-forwardly expressing affection rather than cloaking it in indifference. Well, mostly. She looks up at John B.—"Can you please, not, kill yourself?" J.J., pragmatist-cynic, is mostly concerned that John's gonna drop his beer, which he does, and groans. "I'm not giving you another one." At that moment, hired security pulls up; Pope's first to notice and sounds the alarm. "Let's go boys," says Kiara, with a smile that shows how secure she feels, despite the apparent threat. It’s her, and her guys, against the world, and nothing can hurt them, and nothing can hurt her, and nothing will break them apart. Except time. But there’s no reason to think about that now, when high school feels eternal, when a summer is a lifetime. John and J.J. scramble down the scaffolding, dancing under the Tyvek logo, darting through a half-finished oversized living room. We get a Cops-style shaky action cam—the cinematography on this show can is one of its creative standouts—which follows the Pogues from a pit bull’s-eye-view, hopping fences and piling into their Mystery Van of a VW camper.

The security guard—a middle-aged, beer-bellied guy named Gary—chases after them on foot as the Pogue boys taunt him. "Check out Gary, gunning for a raise." "C'mon Gary, you're so close, you're so close," says J.J. before tossing him an empty PBR can. Kiara dutifully plays her role of both checking and amplifying the boys' bad behavior, as both the voice of conscience and their audience to shock. "You're gonna give him a heart attack," she protests; "Stop, stop." J.J. cools it, but balances the ledger through retort: "That sort of initiative is just begging to be punished." 

And that’s our cast. We’ll get proper intros soon, but it’ll just unpack what we’ve already discovered, in their dress and digs and one-liners. The camper zooms past a sign which welcomes them to the Outer Banks, "Paradise on Earth." John B. narrates for us, because it’s really his story. "It's the sorta place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island." The haves and the have-nots. The set-up for a proper Romeo & Juliet arc, natch. The Pogues, of course, are the underdog have-nots, otherwise we couldn't root for them. Same reason punch-up jokes are more comfortable sources for laughs. Mind you, this whole “have-not” status does not, of course, entail anything so troublesome as our protagonists working two jobs—or even one job, for that matter. They'll have money troubles on this show, but mainly the sort that come from vandalizing thirty-thousand dollar boats, not everyday problems like paying for groceries and gas. Like all great teen dramas, the teens don’t actually go to school or work. The Pogues are on summer vacation,  which is why we won’t see any of them in school this season. Not that they’re working summer jobs either. Actual working class lifestyles tend to be monotonous and uneventful, a dynamic incompatible with the Teen Drama’s quota of adventure and sex. A few transcendent cinematic works in our time have squared the difference, see e.g. Adventureland. But the rest make do with fantasy and freedom. Duty, obligation, and constraint regularly rear their head on this show, but only ever as threats. The authorities will keep knocking, threatening to institutionalize our heroes—to ground them, put them in foster care, throw them in jail. But bail is swift, like how broken bones heal overnight, and there is never any prolonged interruption to our characters’ agency.

As the camper van cruises along the Banks, we get introduced to its two cultures—first the privileged “Kooks," with their immaculate marinas, their columnade plantations, their rolling golf courses. (Expensive boats, the legacy of slavery, and the reputation of #45, DJT.) Then the bus crosses a bridge with a middle-aged black man fishing beside a no-fishing sign. (Our ost quintessentially coastal South scene yet, from bayou to pluff mud.) Over the railroad tracks, so to speak. We’re toured around the South Side, "The Cut," with its mobile homes and run-down shacks. Home of the Pogues, our crew in question, so named after "the throwaway fish, lowest member of the food chain." John B: "The downside of pogue life is we're ignored and neglected. But the upside of pogue life is we're ignored or neglected. Which means we do whatever we want, whenever we want. The crew's hanging on John’s boat, the HMS Pogue: Pope is shirtless in a bucket hat, reading Kafka short stories, a huge black roach adorning the book's cover. Kiara's looking as fine as she ever will, in an olive bikini with African-Mediterranean ornaments and a rusty brown bandana, looking every inch a brown pirate goddess, notwithstanding the orange wired earbuds that pipe music from her smartphone. (What years is this? 2010?) John B., still with his trademark blue bandana and the addition of a baseball cap—backwards, natch—hauls a net full of sardine-sized fish—pogues, we must assume—onto the deck, where they spill out, squirming and suffocating in the closing scene of their short lives. J.J. says they’ll make good bait, a way to undermine the catch. Cycles of food chains: our kooks are “pogues” to kooks higher on the social pecking order—read, elites living anywhere that isn't the Carolinas. And our beloved pogues are kooks to these, more literal, pogues. And so on. That's how food chains work; power and identity are relative and relational concepts, never absolute ones; and there's always a bigger—or smaller—fish.

And now we get the proper introductions, the structure recapitulating the compressive first minute. The structure goes: "We're the Pogues; hear us roar; this here’s Loki; that there’s Thor." Name, role, origin story; difference recognized and ultimately subjugated to collective; everyone’s got a role in the micro-economy of the friend group. We see J.J. mowing the lawn, shirtless, with Calvin Klein abs—then surfing, then taking parts out of car engine. (John B: "Mild kleptomaniac and a future tax cheat.") The scene shifts to a kegger; Kiara's lecturing a long-hair with an acoustic guitar and a Solo cup: "Don't even get me started on microplastics..." We see her wearing rose-tinted hippy glasses, which she takes off and puts on J.J. in a little gesture we call "symbolic foreshadowing." "That's Kiara, or Key as we call her, and when she's not saving turtles, or listening to Marley, or getting a dolphin tattoo, she hangs out with us. I'm not really sure why though. She's a rich kid actually, foot in both worlds." Rich kid here in context means her dad owns a small fish’n’chips restaurant, a proper mom’n’pop affair with a couple wait staff that brings in annual grosses in the lower six-digits. Finally Pope: "The brains of the operation, finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship, and the smartest person I know." Vanderhorst—like van der Woodsen, one of those names that breathes “Old Money,” Lucas no doubt being a descendent of good old Arnoldus, a South Carolina planter who commanded the local militia and served as state governor in the final years of the 18th century. Pope wants to be a coroner, apparently, and is a bit of an “oddball." "Doesn't matter. He was a Pogue." Once a Pogue, always a Pogue; we get a shot of the Pogues at sunset, staring into the horizon, Kiara the feminine energy that unites them, her spread arms bringing them together in a hug they would never initiate on their own. That's my crew, John B. tells us, shirtless as usual, blue bandana around his neck as usual, a kind of captain-on-shore, a stoic and troubled preacher on the pulpit, an Ahab after lost treasure. To recap: J.J.’s the brawler-cynic cum closet-sweetheart. Pope’s the bookworm and voice of civilization. Kiara’s the heart and conscience. John owns the boat and the hangout spot, provides the energy and narrative arc, and in most other ways is captain. He lives on an "old fish shack on the marsh"—the "Chateau," as his dad used to call it, before he "disappeared at sea." His mom bounced years ago, so it's just him right now, adolescent playing adult, which is another part of the Teen Drama fantasy, cf. Chuck Bass. 

But there’s always a bigger fish, and Child Protective Services is threatening to toss him in foster care. They schedule an imminent home visit from authorities—but then John B catches a break. Hurricane Agatha, a maelstrom of disruption, is about to shake up the status quo of the Outer Banks. The power grid will be out for weeks. Authorities and the local PD will be busy handling a thousand other responsibilities. The momentum that was disrupted—as it tries to reassert itself—and the new momentums engineered by the disruption—which struggle to maintain themselves—will drive the story-arc of our show. Some things that were on the surface will be submerged. And some things that were lying submerged will be brought to the surface. And all the opportunities and threats which emerge, and bring us out of routine normalcy into a proper routine-breaking plot, emerge from this one great disruption, the high winds and back-breaking waves of Agatha’s sea-storm.

But all that comes later. For now, it’s just another routine storm, and no one’s sweating it too serious. Pope and John B head out to surf the storm waves; Pope has his reservations—those aren't surfable waves, he protests—but John B bites back "Says who?" and they paddle past the break. This dynamic—this asymmetry in care and concern—is fundamental to understanding the show and how it evolves. It isn’t just that Pope’s more anxious or easily worried; it’s that he literally has more to lose. Half the Pogues—that is, John and J.J.—have nothing to lose. They don’t have families or futures. J.J.’s dad is an abusive alcoholic, which depending on your perspective is only slightly better, or slightly worse, than not having a dad at all. Both moms are out of the picture. Both J.J. and J.B. are academically truant; J.J. has a criminal rap sheet and J.B.’s not far behind. Whereas Pope and Kiara are probably bound for good colleges and solid middle-class jobs. They’re about to be seniors in high school; in a little over a year, Kiara will no doubt be studying marine biology at USD, and Pope will be at Columbia or NYU, wearing black turtlenecks and sipping box wine with future N+1 contributors who will meet his “Metamorphosis” and raise him Amerika. Whereas John and J.J.… will still be here, in the Outer Banks. Catching waves and going to keggers and getting in fist-fights with polo shirts. At least, that’s what would have happened. The friendship will prove more powerful than these life-scripts, and it will be simultaneously beautiful and tragic. That comes later: For now, we’re with Pope and John B as they buck and roll in the waves, catching a few, tossed by others. And we’re with John B when, cresting on his board, he sees an apparition on the horizon, a ghost ship tossing in the wind as it heads out to sea, as the hurricane descends. A confused—even worried—look comes across his face. Title screen: Outer Banks.