#then they clean spilled drinks and cake puke

[crunchchute]

i wanna be a cunty staffbot

(aka a ref for me as a staffbot slash fnaf sona of some sorts. beep boop i saw the roxy wig on a staffbot in HW2 and couldt get it out of my mind since. i also love the staffbots attitudes)

[silkjade-archived]

genshin men as wedding dates

It’s wedding season and you’ve got a large one coming up. But it’s not just any wedding, it’s a family wedding meaning…extended relatives. Are you going to brave the night out on your own or are you rsvping with a plus one?

Featuring— Kaeya, Diluc, Venti, Childe, Zhongli, Xiao, Thoma

gn!reader, modern au, mentions of alcohol, mostly platonic but implied romantic feelings

Part 1 (here) - Part 2 - Part 3

KAEYA

you guys pregame the wedding

he’s cool, he’s charismatic, he’s definitely the hottest person at the entire event (and he knows it)

makes funny little comments about the family with you; flirty banters all day all night

insists on dancing together and will definitely dip you at some point

gossips with the old ladies (i mean he’s not #1 grandson candidate for nothing right) and tells you everything

drawback is he makes you take photos of him all night and will make you take it again until he likes it! and it’s not just fit pics because he’ll be drinking a glass of wine or eating cake and be like

“wait take a candid of me real quick”

the bride overshot the mark and tossed the bouquet way too far and that’s how he ends up catching the bouquet

“oh? guess we’re next” and then he offers the bouquet to you and kisses your hand

clingyyyyy drunk at the end of the night and spills about how nice it was to be included at a family event, and how grateful he is to you for inviting him

please invite him again to your next family gathering

DILUC

congrats you’ve officially gotten the family flex of the century! bragging rights forever!

picks you up in his fancy car. he’s not planning to drink anyway so he’ll take care of you (but pls drink responsibly he just wants to have a nice night out with you)

you get interrogated upon arrival because is that really the wine tycoon diluc ragnvindr???

will excuse the both of you if he notices you’re getting overwhelmed; diluc’s had his fair share of social events so he does this easily without offending anyone for your sake

“ I said I’d take care of you tonight, didn’t I?”

the flower girl asks him for a dance and he does the thing where he lifts her onto his feet and oops now all the kids at the wedding want a turn à la ross from friends

would’ve been stuck there all night but you’re soft for his ‘help me’ face so you whisk him away and he finally gets to dance with you

a week later you get a link with all the photos from that night and there’s a candid of the two of you where you’re laughing and diluc is looking at you with a soft smile and the most lovestruck look in his eyes

VENTI

if it’s a wedding with an open bar..do you really even have to ask??

on the ride there, he keeps saying he’s got something up his sleeve but doesn’t elaborate further, just “ehe”

turns out he snuck his pet lizard dvalin in via his..you guessed it, sleeve. dvalin escapes some time during the ceremony and neither of you notice because you’re busy whispering little jokes and comments to each other

you guys don’t see dvalin again until the reception when an entire table is screaming

he makes up for it by making the most beautiful, poetic toast to the married couple

someone wanted to film a first drink vs last drink tiktok and it goes viral but all the comments are about venti’s segment (he’s at ‘tie around his head’ level messy)

pukes on you in the uber back and passes out. you have to haul his ass home after the driver sticks you with the cleaning bill. he’s here for a good time not for a long time

CHILDE

wants to make a good impression so he insists on you giving him a who’s who rundown presentation a week before the big day. calls it a battle plan

“that’s your misogynistic cousin right? can I punch him?” “yeah but just do it outside”

HAS to win all the wedding games

it’s his dance floor and we’re just dancing on it

your teen cousins all develop a crush on him because they think he’s the fun spontaneous boyfriend of their dreams

you two take forever in the photobooth; you’re doing cute photos, funny photos, using all the props!! even sneaks a kiss on your cheek! puts his copy in the back of his phone case (he has one of those clear ones)

he's great with the kids at the wedding; and seeing him almost seamlessly blend into your family dynamics makes you feel a little….

everyone keeps asking when you two are getting married and he says hopefully soon <3 (but you aren’t even dating?!)

you’re whatevs about catching the bouquet so he gets competitive about it for you

why is he in all the important family photos

gets a personal invite to the next family gathering and has the audacity to ask you to be his plus one

ZHONGLI

he's that one guest who would randomly be an ordained minister if anything happens

drifts to the oldest people at the wedding and exchanges stories but when he mentions he works as a funeral consultant, they think he's just trying to sell them a funeral package

there are disposable cameras scattered around the tables during the reception and he tries so hard to take a selfie with you. after the photos get developed it's just....blurry..or a bunch of photos of the top of your heads..or one of you is cut out of the frame..or -

the photos he takes of you are very cute though! and he took so many! they’re not the best quality but they have the candid blurry aesthetic™ going on

good at formal dances but is otherwise so stiff. hu tao convinced him it’d be a fun idea to throw it back; he’s never been more embarassed in his life

you think it's adorable but your mean cousin makes a comment and you're about to beat their ass for his honor (to be fair you did hear his bones crack but that’s not the point)

brought tupperware for leftovers from the dessert bar. reminds you to take the centerpiece

XIAO

tbh he wouldn’t even consider it unless you two are very close

says no at first but agrees when you say you'll have to ask someone else

"hmm…do you think venti would want to-" "venti? really? you can’t be serious. I’ll go.”

comes off very cold when you introduce him to everyone; he's very respectful (especially to elders) but he just isn't a very social person

mostly sticks to you and just minds his own business sitting at the table all night but he will defend you if he overhears anyone talking smack about you

one dance and that’s it. it’s a slowdance and he’s looking everywhere except at you. help him he’s nervous

the two of you end up leaving the party for some fresh air and take a walk around the gardens outside the venue

you watch the firework show from your spot in the garden as well. his eyes aren’t on the fireworks though

THOMA

arguably one of, if not the best, candidates to meet family

he definitely wants to match with you!!!

his dashing looks and polite, personable charisma are truly a deadly combination

social butterfly! open to chatting with anyone, he’s sharing recipes and knitting tips and talking about how housework is for everyone… the girls, gays, and theys love him

your aunt tries setting him up with your cousin and wait a minute- what’s that feeling bubbling in your chest..it’s not jealousy is it? after all, you and thoma are just friends

if you get different desserts, he’ll hold out his fork to feed you some of his

“mm! you have to try this — it’s so good!”

kind of a bad dancer but that just adds to his charm; also your personal hype man!!

instagram bf material; he’ll take so many photos of you at so many angles! he just wants a few photos of the two of you together, which the photographer happily obliges

at the end of the night, after all the partying, he sneaks a selfie together of you dozing off on his shoulder and makes it his new lockscreen goodbye taroumaru

Thank you for making it to the end! I had to go to a family friend’s wedding recently by myself and it was…an experience. Anyways! What did you guys think? Do you guys want a part 2 with different characters? This is my first time writing and posting headcanons publicly so please be easy on me 🥹

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆! 𝑨𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒛: 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑻𝒓𝒚 𝑻𝒐 𝑷𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, encouraging, justifying, supporting nor romanticizing Yandere behavior. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warnings: Mentions of yandere behavior, violence and disturbing scenarios are contained in this post. Read at your own discretion and responsibility.

❧𝙺𝚒𝚖 𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚓𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐

Hongjoong knew what you were up to, he had eyes everywhere, in the form of cameras, which you weren't aware of. He wasn't scared though. He knew you inside and out, so he knew you would never be able to bring yourself to actually go through with it. Having always been a pushover and complacent person, you'd never harm anyone. And he's also made sure to train you well enough to not try any stunts.

That's why while you two were eating dinner, he watched you out of the corner of his eye while he lifted the poisoned drink to his mouth.

"Wait! Hongjoong don't drink that!" You blurted out.

You quickly got up and tried to snatch the glass cup away from him, but he held it away from you.

"Oh? Why not my dear?" He peered down at you .

Shame took over you as you slumped back in your chair, tears forming in your eyes. How were you to explain to him that you just tried to kill him?

Hongjoong leaned down, his arms resting on the table as his eyes pierced into yours.

"I asked a question and I expect you to answer me."

He gripped your chin and forced you to look at him when you kept your gaze down.

"And when I'm talking to you, I want you to look at me....."

Chuckling darkly, he added:

"Don't make me take you to my room for a little more training."

❧𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚂𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚠𝚊

You were so damn tired of it all. You were exhausted mentally, emotionally, physically and psychologically from Seonghwa's manipulation and abuse that stemmed from his possessive and controlling behavior. At any point you were going to snap and either kill him or yourself.

You chose the first option. You thought you were pretty discreet in obtaining and hiding the poison vial. You only succeeded in the first one.

"Y/N what do you have there?"

Seonghwa's voice startled you. You rapidly tried to hide the vial in your hoodie, but being stronger than you, Seonghwa wrestled it out of your hands. When he realized what you were planning to do, his head snapped at you, cold menacing eyes staring at you. You were fucked.

"You ungrateful little bitch!"

You fell to floor, barely avoiding the glass hitting you when Seonghwa threw it to the wall next to you. You cried out in pain when he pulled you up by your hair, shaking you roughly as he began exclaiming:

"You're lucky I even chose to look at your pathetic and low life self. Without me, you'd be nothing! And this is how you fucking repay me?!"

He shoved you against the wall, where you then collapsed from how badly your right side was aching from the pain of colliding with the concrete material.

"You have 10 minutes to clean up this mess." He ordered before leaving the room.

You looked down at the broken shards of glass. Picking one up, you held it close to your wrist..

Maybe you should have picked the 2nd option...

❧𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘

Yunho couldn't understand why you would try to do this. He loved and worshipped you, and he thought that things are going fine for a while. And then he found the poison hidden in your things. He was completely heartbroken, but he couldn't let you know that. Instead, he had to think of a plan. Even if it was drastic.

He let you be all lovey dovey towards him the night you planned everything, feigning he didn't know. He willingly accepted the drink you gave him, knowing fully well it had poison. He saw you looking at him intently and he sent a chill down your spine when he said:

"Don't be so surprised. It'll take longer to have an effect on me......than on you."

He turned his head and looked at your shocked expression.

"Yes Y/N. I put some poison on your drink as well. I knew it all along."

You went pale as his words sinked in. You quickly got up and ran to the bathroom. You began hitting your hitting stomach on the edge of the sink, sticking 2 fingers in your mouth, anything to trigger your gag reflex and hopefully puke out the poison. You began hyperventilating when nothing was working and you realized you might die.

You were about to collapse on the floor but Yunho caught you and whispered:

"You got two choices right now Y/N: we either call an ambulance while there's still time.....

Or we die together. Either way you're not leaving me and I'm not letting you get away."

❧𝙺𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚎𝚘𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚐

Yeosang swirled the contents of his drink, eyeing it suspiciously. You could never fool him. He knew the poison better than you did. It was the exact same poison he used to kill off your last lover. Raising an eyebrow he looked at you before saying:

"Baby why don't you take a sip of my drink?"

You dropped your fork and you looked at him with wide eyes. Yeosang smirked when he realized it was indeed you.

"Uh....no thanks." You replied, hoping he wouldn't insist.

"But I'm telling you to."

He got up and slid the drink in front of you.

"So drink it."

Your shaking hand took the glass, spilling some of the liquid from the trembling you had. But you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

"I can't..... I'm sorry..."

"Why are you apologizing?" Yeosang interrogated you, his voice cool and collected.

You broke down and confessed to everything, how you tried to poison him, even though Yeosang already had it figured out. He made you stand up and held you close as you cried your eyes out. Once he felt you calm down a little, he cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears before landing a harsh slap across your cheek, stunning you, but you should have expected it.

Yeosang was even scarier when he was calm, because you never knew what he was going to do.

"Don't ever try that again." Was his only warning before he patted the bright red spot on your face.

It was definitely going to leave a bruise.

❧𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚒 𝚂𝚊𝚗

You tried and tried to pull out of your restraints, even though you knew you had zero chances of breaking free. San always made sure your bonds were tight and secure.

"Look."

You heard him say but you didn't want to look. You gasped when he clenched your jaw with his hand and forced you to look up.

"I said look!" He growled as he held your face up.

You sobbed even harder when you looked into your friend's terrified eyes. You wished it were you instead, you deserved it, not them. You were the one stupid enough to try and poison San. So why must your lifelong friend suffer the consequences?

"I say give it a few more seconds before the poison starts taking effect. I'm actually curious, what exactly were you planning to happen to me?"

It all started and ended so quickly. The image of your friend's body convulsing on the floor, their blood shot red eyes, their gagged breathing followed by the foaming of the mouth....... until their lifeless body layed on the floor, a trickle of blood pouring out from their mouth.

San cringed, as if he were staring at nothing more than a bug.

"What an awful way to die."

Turning his attention back to you, he added:

"Maybe that'll teach you to not get any ideas in your stupid little head."

❧𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒

You woke up and made your way into the kitchen, fixing yourself some breakfast. It was awfully quiet. You shrugged and put your plate on the table. Looking at the time, you noticed it was an odd hour for your parents not to be up.

"I'm supposed to be the one sleeping in." You joked more to yourself.

You opened the door and went to your parents bed, trying to wake up your mom. Lifting the covers up, you let out a piercing scream when your mom's pale and lifeless face stared back at you, your father in the same condition. Scrambling to get up, you ran to the telephone to call 911, but the line was dead.

"Oh my god!" You cried out as you went back to your room to get your phone.

You opened the door and froze when an all too familiar face greeted you.

"Hi baby cakes." Mingi's deep voice said.

"You?! What are you--- it can't be! You're supposed to be dead!" You exclaimed.

1 year ago, you managed to escape your psychotic boyfriend's clutches, by poisoning him. So why was he here? It had to be a nightmare and you wanted to wake up.

"Supposed to, but I'm not. As you can see, I survived."

When he came near you, you ran away, but Mingi being faster caught up to you really quick. You struggled to get out of his grasp, but he managed to press a cloth on your nose and mouth. In less than 2 minutes, you succumbed to the effects of the gas and fell unconscious on him.

"How cute darling. I missed having you in my arms." He smirked as he picked you up to take you away with him.

❧𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐

Wooyoung sighed as he stepped over your writhing body. Calmly, he dialed a number.

"911, what's your emergency?" The woman asked.

"I need help! My s/o tried to poison themselves!" He cried out, making himself spill out tears in mere seconds, completely fooling the operator.

Once he hung up though, the tears were gone and his usual cold expression was plastered on again. You tried to gasp for air, your eyesight going black, the last thing you saw was Wooyoung's deadly gaze.

He was also the first thing you saw when you woke up in a hospital bed. Wooyoung played the part of a doting and concerned boyfriend really well, all the medical staff never doubting the veracity of his statements. You on the other hand knew it was all a lie. And he showed his true colors to you while you were alone.

"Tsk tsk. Seriously Y/N, if you're going to try and do something as stupid as trying to poison me, do a better job."

He scoffed at you. It wasn't your fault though. How were you supposed to know he switched glasses with you when you turned away for a second?

He walked up to you and loomed over your fragile figure.

"Don't you dare say anything to anyone, got it? And when we get back home, there'll be hell to pay for your little stunt."

As if going through a near death experience wasn't bad enough, now you were wishing Wooyoung had just let you die instead of just scaring the life out of you....almost.

❧𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚒 𝙹𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚘

Jongho was furious, livid with you. He couldn't believe what you were planning to do. Not wasting a minute, he stormed into the living room where you currently were. He flung the poison vial on the couch, where you recognized it and knew you were now screwed.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?" He asked, arms crossed over his chest.

You couldn't speak, you couldn't even look at him. You were afraid of him.

"You're seriously trying to get rid of me? When all I've ever done is protect you? Take care of you? When all I've ever done is love you?!"

You flinched when he flipped the coffee table with one hand, sending it flying feet away, breaking once it crashed on the floor.

Jongho grabbed you by your arms and started shaking you.

"Get it straight through your head Y/N: no one will care, love or protect you like me! No one but I gives a damn about you! No one is even looking for you! So why are you trying to get rid of me?"

You let out a yelp of pain when he clutched you too harshly, making him stop immediately. Like flipping a switch, he hugged you and caressed your hair.

"You can't go out there in the world again. You just can't. They'll hurt you and I can't have that.....you need me... I'm your protector and you must stay with me..."

Gifs not mine, credit goes to their respective owners.

[with-love-anu]

Flirting Disasters

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader Summary: You fell in love with Sirius Black while working together with him at the order while he dismisses every move you make on him Warnings: Second hand-embarrassment, drinking problems, passing out, break-down. Word Count: 3,789

You fiddled with your purse thinking about your first order meeting. Granted, you were an expert at decoding messages coming from your immense study of Runes; but you could very well handle yourself in a fight too.

Dumbledore already told you about your job. Decode the messages and try to find out the course of action of the death eaters. He had told you that you’ll be working with Sirius Black the owner and head of the Black household, also the order’s headquarters. You’d been told a lot about him too. Being wrongly accused and sent to Azkaban by his own best friend, his narrow escape and having to stay back at the headquarters for his own good. That did not prepare you in any way when you actually met him.

He was gorgeous. High well-defined cheekbones, long raven hair that licked his sharp jaw line. He was exactly your type, if there was one. You knew then, you were in trouble. You knew, your ever flirtatious nature would kick you in the back because you just could not not flirt with him. Not when he look like a Greek god.

“Hello, I’m (Y/n) (Y/l/n) and we would be working and living together apparently. So, hey there roomie!” you said putting your best face on.

“Sirius.” He said giving you a tight lipped smile and shaking your hand. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from saying something. He wasn’t the chirpiest of people, you decided.

***

It had been 2 days since you both worked together. You heard him speak only when required.

“So this here means north, and that little symbol over there; cabin.” You said pointing towards the latest letter. “But I don’t think that’s a place or-“

“That’s a pub” Sirius said interrupting you. “There’s a famous pub on the out skirts of London named- “Donec in septemtrionis” which translates to the northern cabin.”

“Wow, you’re smart too! Aren’t you the complete package?” You smirked, eying him.

Sirius looked at you and for a moment you were sure he was going to quip back with something teasingly witty; but he just averted his gaze, leaning over the letter.

“We need to report this to the order.”

It took a while before Sirius said more than a few words to you, and not about the job. He would light up talking about his years at Hogwarts and told you stories you were only too happy to listen. You told him about your research and the years you spent in Egypt learning languages and studying symbols and encrypted text. You told him about dealing with cursed objects and the friends you made there as Sirius held on to everything you said. You still flirted with him, making him act to be all annoyed.

---

“You look cute today.” You said as Sirius came in freshly shaven. Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll look cuter holding my hand” you winked making Sirius groan.

---

You and Sirius were looking at James and Lily’s wedding pictures.

“James was so scared that day! He looked like he would puke before we threatened him to get himself together.” Sirius said grinning.

“You know,” You said making Sirius turn towards you. “I’m gonna be your bomb ass wife someday.” Sirius scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Oh you’re so in love with me.” You said giggling.

---

***

It was an order meeting. The two of you set up the long table, chairs and fixed some water and drinks on the cabinet. Dumbledore stood up.

“I’m sad to inform you all that Dominic Sanders is found missing.” Your eyes widened. No, not him.

“What?!?” you demanded.

“The aurors are on him, he had been to a confidential mission and we are not getting any messages from him. We already released two search parties but nothing yet has been traced.” Dumbledore emphasized. You bit back tears that were threatening to spill.

Sirius noticed the change in your demeanor. You had always been a chirpy and outspoken person,  and now to think of it he didn’t know how he would have handled himself without you. Over the top of it, you were extremely intelligent. You knew what you talked about. He would be lying to himself if he said that he never had the urge to flirt back. And you were beautiful. But he was done fooling around. He had to take care of Harry and work for the order, fight against the dark lord who dared to strike again. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be your friend atleast. So when he saw your face fall at the news, remaining quiet during the whole meeting he could only guess how sad you must be.

After the meeting, you slowly helped Sirius cleaning and clearing the area out.

“(Y/n), are you okay?” Sirius asked softly.

“Yes. Fine.” You said hoping Sirius would leave you alone like he did every time. Sirius frowned.

“You don’t think I would believe that shit, would you?” Sirius scolded.

“Sirius, please leave me alone.”

“No, you have to talk to me.”

“It’s not like you care.” You said as head thumped. The news had crushed you. You knew you were moments away from a complete breakdown. Sirius sucked in a breath.

“I do care. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” he said and you finally let tears fall.

“Dominic was always like a big brother to me. He took me in when I was at my worst and is the only person I call family, I jus-“ You started breathing deeply, falling to the ground with a thud.

Sirius was near you in a second, rubbing your back. You buried your face in his neck, crying as he held you. As you slowly calmed down, you sniffed pulling away.

“Thank you.” You said.

“(Y/n), this is war. I know you are strong, but things like this happen and make you lose your faith. Please don’t. Its dark now but light always triumphs.”

“I know. I see it. I see it in you every single day.” You said looking at him. “Professor McGonagall often told me about you, you know. The young boy always upto some mischief. While others may have become spiteful over time under the things like you went through; you matured. You changed yourself when time demanded it and I admire you for it. I know there’s still good in the world.”

Sirius froze. You thought what? He looked at you wiping your tears away as he felt something leap inside him. You looked at him and let out a small laugh.

“I won’t break, I promise.” You said standing up and resuming what you were doing.

***

Something changed after that. Sirius could feel it. He would forget what he needed to do, hum Beatles songs under his breath, smile out of the blue. Everyone could see it, Molly Weasley tried her best to hold her giggles as Sirius helped you smiling and bubbling like an idiot. He greeted everyone leaving them happier. Remus raised his eyes on seeing him.

“You look awfully happy today.” He stated.

“Really? Well, it’s a nice day!” Sirius said averting his eyes towards (Y/n) who was giggling and laughing at something Tonks said; smiling instantly.

“Ahhhhh..” Remus drawled. Sirius turned his head towards his friend.

“What?” he asked.

“(Y/n)’s pretty intelligent, huh?” Remus asked.

“Yes, she is. Can you believe that girl got straight O’s in every subject she took both in OWL’s and NEWT’s? And she is quite quick minded too. She…” Sirius stopped seeing the look on Remus’s face.

“I don’t like her.” he said pointedly.

“Funny, I never said that.” Remus said smirking. Sirius shook his head.

“Like I said I don’t” Sirius said shaking his head. Remus patted his shoulder.

“Whatever lets you sleep at night.”

Sirius frowned. He did not like (Y/n).

***

You smiled seeing another letter from Pietro. He was on an undercover mission and sent letters whenever he could. He was your best friend, the person you knew would be there for you no matter what. He had sent you a bouquet of wild flowers from the area knowing how much you love them. You giggled reading how much he craved a good bowl of cake and firewhiskey.

Sirius frowned on seeing you. You had got flowers? And who wrote the letter that made you smile so much?

“What have you got?” he asked making you look at him. You smiled widely.

“Letter and flowers from Pietro! Look! Aren’t these just beautiful. I love getting wild flowers and a good book to read. Makes my day!”

Sirius tried not to frown.

“Who’s Pietro?” He asked forcing a smile.

You looked at him raising your eyes and smiling mischievously.

“Awww. Look who’s jealous? Don’t worry babe, only you own my heart.” You winked at him. Sirius’s eyes widened as a crimson blush covered his cheeks and stuttered.

“Wait… What!?! NO!” he said and you giggled.

“Keep lying to yourself.” You smirked leaving the room.

You sighed. You loved Sirius. You knew that. He made your walls crumble easily. Flirting for fun was one thing, flirting with him was another. You still couldn’t believe the day you cried in front of him. You never did that, not even with Pietro. Dominic was the only people whom you let see you like that. And you fell more in love with Sirius when he called you strong, showed you he trusted you to be capable.

But it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Because every time you would flirt with him, he would act to be annoyed. Sometimes you thought he was. You thought maybe, he really never loved you. He thought you as a friend, or as he said to his Remus sometimes, ‘colleague’. It hurt you, it did every single time. You would smile and pretend not to notice but it made your stomach churn.  However then you would remember what Dominic always said to you. Different people had different ways of showing their love. Some people would say it, while others would show you in every small way possible. And he did. He would make sure you took care of yourself, do all these things just to make you happy. Then why in hell did he deny it?

***

Sirius and you were baking a cake. Why? ‘You don’t need a reason to bake a cake.’ The cake was done beautifully as you took it out of the oven letting the chocolate smell waft through the house. You let it cool before taking the icing knife as you both started putting some cream on it. When you were done, you both admired it smirking at each other. You took the bowl with the left over icing swiping a finger through it, licking the cream. Sirius came forward to take some but you swatted his hands away. He pouted making you giggle.

“You may be the love of my life but I am not giving you the icing.” He raised his eyebrow and came forward to take some anyway and you stretched your hands away from you to increase the distance.

“(Y/n). Give me some cream come on!” he whined. You took some more eating it in front of him pointedly. He mock gasped before coming towards you making you run away from him.

“(Y/n)!!!” he said grabbing you by your waist making you topple and fall. He fell above you as you both giggled and laughed. You heard coughs on the door and you turned to see Remus and Tonks smirking. You got up red face and excusing yourself to your room.

Sirius stood up awkwardly and performed some cleaning spells to remove the mess created by the fallen icing. Tonks went after you. Sirius could feel Remus's gaze on him.

“It’s not what you think” he muttered.

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

“Well it is nothing. Besides I am not as young as I used to be. Moreover I am a fugitive. I have nothing to promise her or anyone else.” Sirius said shaking his head.

“I don’t think she minds, she flirts with you quite much. And by the way she looks at you, anyone could see she really likes you” Remus insisted.

“I never flirt back.” Sirius maintained.

“Yes, I do understand that; but you do so many things for her. You make sure she sleeps on time, she eats properly, made hot chocolate for her when she felt sad. Man, you never made hot chocolate for me or James; even when we demanded it. You are leading her on. You like her and you’re hurting her by keeping up the façade. I know you Sirius don’t lie to me.”

Sirius remained silent before shaking his head. You and Tonks entered the dining area just then. You all laughed and talked about everything but the war. It felt nice. It made you happy. There was one thing though. Sirius was acting weird. He did not once look at you. He did not talk to you directly. Was he so embarrassed by his friend seeing you like that?

“So, you and (Y/n), huh?” Tonks mused teasing Sirius. You blushed.

“Tonks, let me make one thing clear,” Sirius said sitting up straighter. “There is nothing between me and (Y/n). Ever was or will be.” Sirius said the last part looking at you and you froze. Your mind reeled as maintained a poker face. Tonks head whipped towards you when Sirius said it, knowing you liked him. Besides she was a good friend throughout your years at Hogwarts. She glared at him all evening. As for you, you felt like you were sinking. Your heart thumped and your stomach churned. You hated every moment you made yourself believe Sirius did like you.

When the evening ended, you went straight to your room not looking once at the man who broke your heart so terribly. As you closed the door behind you, you fell on the ground with a thump. You put your hand over your mouth as you cried out. Your whole body shook as broke down completely. All you could hear was his words being played over and over in your mind. Your mind was numb as you slowly got up and went to the bathroom to wash your face. The silence crushed you. As you lay in your bed that night, you hugged your pillows. Sirius Black did not like you. Never had. Ever will.

Sirius regretted his words as soon as he said them. He saw your face fall for a moment before you completely masked it up. He hated himself. You did not say anything to him after that, or do so much as spare a glance over to him. He did not know what to do. Maybe you’ll hear him out the next day.

He couldn’t be more wrong. You acted like a robot around him, speaking only when necessary. No jokes, no greetings. You had raised up your guards around him. It crushed him. He felt Remus's words buzz over his head over and over again. You like her. His stomach churned and his heart thumped out of his chest. What had he done?

***

Your head zoomed as you heard Snape tell you three about harry and other children. They were underage! How were they going to handle themselves? You rushed to your room grabbing a coat.

“Where do you think you are going” Sirius growled as he saw you, ready to leave with them.

“To the ministry.” you said grabbing some floo powder.

“No you’re not, you’re staying here.” He said raising his eyebrows.

“And who are you exactly to tell me? I’m a member of the order as well. I’m going.” You said.

***

The place was a mess. Sirius could see spells fired everywhere and he made sure to know where harry was at all times. He dueled with Bellatrix, remembering old times. He stumbled back when a curse hit him in the chest.

“Stupefy!” he heard (Y/n)’s voice and saw his cousin turn to her.

“My oh my, such a beautiful girl! Crucio!” Bellatrix screamed.

Sirius felt all the air leave his lungs as (Y/n) withered in agony. He shouted to release her as someone cursed Bellatrix making her stumble. (Y/n) fell to the ground, her body limb. Sirius scrambled to her not able to control the situation.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)!” He slapped her face, but to no avail. Remus came beside him. “Sirius, an emergency healer was sent to the headquarters, quick, take her there!” Sirius picked (Y/n) up apprating quickly. His heart thumped. Hold on, (Y/n). We’re almost there.

The healer was fast. He took (Y/n) from him taking her to the guest bedroom telling him to stay outside. Sirius slumped to the ground. Tears fell from his eyes as his mind reeled him with what happened moments ago.

***

The healer came out after what felt like hours. Sirius refused to eat anything Remus offered. Not until he saw (Y/n). Sirius was up in an instant, wanting to hear what the healer said.

“She was hit by a pretty huge curse. She’s in coma right now. We don’t know when or if she’ll wake up.”

“What do you mean ‘IF’!?!” Sirius roared.

“It’s more likely that she’ll wake up. But she’s in a coma. We can do nothing but wait.”

Sirius felt like he was going to punch the healer, but Remus held him back.

“We understand.” He said glaring at Sirius.

***

It had been 10 days. 10 days since (Y/n) lay lifeless on the bed. Sirius would read to her, sit by her, and fell asleep beside her in case she woke up at night. He watched her face as he tried to control herself. He would give everything up if was just to see her again. To hear her voice. What if she never…

“(Y/n).”

“(Y/n). Wake up. You’ve been sleeping for so long.”

“I have been an idiot, I know but please, don’t punish me like this. Just say something. Anything. Flirt with me again. I promise I’ll flirt back. Every time. Even if it’s the only thing I do.”

“(Y/n)”

***

“Sirius, she’s up” Sirius was at his feet in a moment. She was awake. Finally. Remus held him back. Sirius frowned.

“She doesn’t want to see you.”

“What?��

“She asked not to let you in the room specifically.” Remus said sympathetically as Sirius eyes prickled with tears.

“Why?” he whispered.

“Sirius, I know you are hurt, but she is just out of coma. And the last thing she remembers is your fight with her. Come on, lets get out of here, I’ll take you for a drink”

“You go.” Sirius said not meeting his eyes. What would he do now?

Sirius sneaked into (Y/n)’s room at midnight. He had to see her. It hurt, it really did, and nothing seemed to console him. He drank, transformed into padfoot, but nothing helped the ache of his heart.

He stumbled a little as he opened the door to her room.

“Sirius? Is that you?” you asked, squinting in the dim light. A shiver ran through you as you heard a vase fall down.

“(Y/n)… shit!”

You sat up and performed a spell opening lights around you. You quickly muttered a spell swooping up the glass pieces. Sirius squinted and widened his eyes as the vase fell back into its place. You let your eyes fall on Sirius. Was he drunk?

“What do you want Sirius?” you asked.

He looked you and came forward stumbling and sat on the edge of the bed.

“You. I want you. I want to talk to you. Listen to your stories and have you listen to mine. I want to hold your hand and kiss those soft pink lips of yours. I want you to flirt with me as you used to before and I want to flirt back. Shit! I am such an idiot!” he said yanking his hair. You stopped him and he looked at you.

“I am sorry. I- I have no explanation for myself. I am a stupid worthless piece of shit who didn’t deserve you and still had you like me somehow. I want to be good, but I can’t I am just too selfishhh” he slurred.

“I just want you, even if it’s the only thing I ever get. Because you are so…” he gestured his hands at you and you felt tears in your eyes.

“You. You are the magic in my life. You make me angry and sad and happy and jealous and scared. You make me smile like an idiot over nothing. You make me sing whenever I remember you. I don’t like you (Y/n). I love you.” He said as he scooted closer to you making you sniff. He laid his head on your lap and placed your hand over his head.

“Sirius“ you croaked, but saw he had already passed out.

***

Sirius woke up next morning with a grunt. He looked around in haze trying to make out where he was.

“Here, take this tonic.” You said giving Sirius the blue vial.

Sirius’s eyes widened as he tried to recall what happened the previous night. His head banged and he took the vial drinking its contents in a single gulp. It took him a moment before everything became clearer. You sat down in front of him.

“(Y/n) I-“ Sirius started but you raised your hand stopping him.

“You can get shit drunk, threaten to kill my healer, punch Remus when he kept you outside, but not once tell me that you love me?” You asked. Sirius looked down, the events of the night coming back to him instantly.

“Tell me, Sirius am I that bad a friend?” You asked after sometime.

Sirius held your hands and kissed your knuckles.

“I’ve been known to be an idiot many times. It isn’t your fault.” He said making you release a breathy laugh.

“I am sorry. Please forgive me.” He pleaded.

“Did you mean it? What you said last night?” you asked not giving yourself too much hope.

“Yes.” He gulped.

“You’ll hold my hand and always flirt back?” you asked.

“Always.”

“You’ll hold me and kiss my soft pink lips?”

Sirius nodded fervently.

“Do it then.”

His hands were on you in a second, cupping your face and kissing you urgently, as if he’ll wake up and find it was all just a dream. As you pulled back breathless, you put your head over Sirius’s.

“Sirius Orion Black, you better keep those promises.”

“I will. I can’t lose you again”

A/N: I worked very hard on this one. I would love some feedbacks/reblogs/coments. Thank you so much for reading!

[slasherholic]

synopsis: Your pleasant Christmas dinner at the sorority house is ruined when Billy, ever the horny little shit, decides to make a call.

Concerning the Man in the Attic | Billy Lenz x Reader | NSFW

(Author’s note: this is a -slight- AU where Billy hasn’t actually begun his murder spree yet. All the sorority sisters are still alive and thriving.)

“A slice of ham for you, dear?”

You shake off your daze and blink up at Mrs. Mac from your already full-to-bursting plate. She holds a slender knife to her steaming Christmas ham and looks down at you with an expectant smile, a rosy glow pinkening her plump cheeks, jolliness shining like candlelight in her wrinkled eyes. You can smell the alcohol on her from where you sit.

“Oh, no, that’s alright.” You put on your cheeriest face. “Thank you though Mrs. Mac—maybe a bit later. I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

You don’t miss the way the portly woman’s grin falters. She exhales through her nose.

“Later, then.” Says Mrs. Mac, her smile just a bit more shallow than it had been before, and moves on down the table to ask the same question to Jess. You drop your eyes back to the glob of mashed potatoes crowded on your plate and think, Nicely done. Now you’re on her shit-list.

Except you probably would have made it on Mrs. Mac’s shit-list regardless, because unless you want to puke it right back up all over that stupid Christmas ham, your food is already as good as wasted; your appetite is well and truly gone, and it isn’t coming back.

All because you can’t stop thinking about the calls. 

Today the moaner phoned not once, but twice.

Jess and Phyllis, and Barb especially, her wine glass filled nearly to spilling in her hand, already seem to have forgotten the ordeal. Jess sweeps her dark hair out of her eyes and prods at her asparagus with her fork. Phyllis cups her mug in her slender hands and takes dainty sips. And Barb, sprawled out across the couch with her feet propped on the armrest, knocks back another tall glass of Sauvignon Blanc. She’d popped open her first bottle at 4:00 and has showed no signs of slowing down since.

Whatever thoughts might be preoccupying your sister’s minds you’re confident that they do not concern the man behind those awful calls. The other residents of the house consider the moaner akin to a barking dog—as long as he remains a disembodied ruckus in the neighbor’s yard, why should they fear being bitten? And so they forget him as quickly as the line goes dead.

But not you. Forgetting is off the table for you. Because the reality of the situation—and it is so painfully clear—the reality of the situation is that the dog was never in the neighbor’s yard.

All this time it has been curled up somewhere nice and cozy in yours, and has pissed all over Mrs. Mac’s petunias for good measure, and nobody seems to be batting an eye at the stench. Nobody but you.

But you’ve grown used to covering your nose with your sleeve and pretending you can’t smell it, either.

After the first obscene phone call back at the start of December you could never shake the feeling that something in the house had changed, had soured, had become just not right. There was the case of the missing food from the cabinets; and at night, no shortage of strange creaking and grinding sounds from the attic above; and yes, it was a big old house, but you can’t say you’ve ever heard a rusty pipe squeal like a suckling pig before.

And so you suspect the worst; that the truth behind the moaner is far more sinister than your sisters, than Mrs. Mac, than anyone seems to realize. 

And yet, you wouldn’t dare to bring it up. You wouldn’t dare.

That pervert living in the house somewhere? What a joke. You had no hard evidence to show for it, just a gut-wrenching feeling. The claim would sound paranoid at best.

So here you are, resigned to gritting your teeth; and covering your nose; and bearing the stink.

You tune out most of the chatter as Christmas dinner carries on. Barb chatters to Phyllis—Phyllis lends an ear, sipping lazily from her cocoa with a snide smile plastered across her face. Barb chatters to Jess—Jess doesn’t bite. There’s something eating at her, you think. Mrs. Mac interjects occasionally with chatter of her own.

When the phone rings, the chatter stops. So does your heart.

Your eyes race to where the receiver rests on its stand in the adjoining living room. 

“Rrrring. Rrrring.”

The shrill note carries through the cavernous hallways of Mrs. Mac’s grand old house. Once, twice, three times. 

Barb is on the scene in seconds. She springs upright from her place on the couch, wobbling dangerously when her feet hit the floor—only to regain her precarious balance with the very next step. You chew your lip as she lifts the receiver and presses it to her cheek. 

An ear-to-ear grin sprawls across her face. She sticks the phone out for all to hear.

“Tasty cunt.” Comes the garbled voice over the phone. “I can smell it, I can smell your ripe wet cunt.”

The room must drop by ten degrees because you start to shiver. It’s him again; the moaner.

“Maybe you’re smelling your own breath, pal.” Barb quips.

“Oh Barb, just hang up.” Pleads Jess, worry written across her pale face.

“I’m gonna eat it—ooh, I’m gonna come and eat it, I’ll stick my face in it, let me smell it, let me eat your dripping pussy, I know how wet you are…” 

The phone crackles with manic snickering.

“I watched you stick your fingers up your cunt… I watched you rub and rub and ruin your pretty pinky panties…” 

Your heart drops. Your face burns. You cross your legs beneath the table. You have a pair of panties which might fit that bill. Panties which—perhaps not-so-coincidentally—have been missing for three days.

The man on the phone squeals like a hungry pig. The squeals peter into grunting, shallow and hasty, and Barb, covering her hand with her mouth, has never looked so amused. 

When the line goes dead the living room erupts with hooting laughter.

“The poor guy didn’t even last twenty seconds that time!” Barb barks. She plants the phone back on its stand and slumps onto the couch, her chest heaving.

“No rest for the wicked I guess.” Phyllis suggests. “Not even on Christmas.”

The chatter resumes; you try your absolute hardest to focus on your mashed potatoes and on your green beans and not, for the love of god, on what the moaner is doing with your underwear.

You volunteer to clean up after dinner. Luckily, Mrs. Mac had been too many drinks in to remember that you hadn’t touched a single bite of her hard work (No no, don’t worry yourself, I’ve got it, dinner was splendid, you’ve outdone yourself, really, you deserve a lie down. Merry Christmas to you too Mrs. Mac) and the woman had given you a dull smile, and toddled off to bed.

You scrub at the dried cranberry sauce caked on a plate and try your hardest not to think about the man in the attic. You know you should go to the police. That’s what any rational person would do, right? You can picture the conversation now;

Yes hello officer, there’s a strange man in our house and nobody knows he’s there except me. How do I know? Well it’s simple, you see, I know because he watched me finger-fuck myself and then stole my panties and then called over dinner to gloat about it.

You furrow your brow and scrub harder.

Yeah; fat chance.

If you’re going to do this you need to be certain. You need irrefutable evidence that there is, in fact, some creep squatting in your house. You need to wait for him to slip up—to make a mistake—to show himself.

You huff and drop the sponge into the sink, bending to load the plate into the washer.

“Hugnhh—”

The abrupt sound is a grunt; almost animalistic. It comes from somewhere behind you.

You straighten up like a springboard and turn on your heel, planting your hands on the kitchen sink, your frantic eyes sweeping the room.

The grunting stops as abruptly as it began—but you weren’t imagining it. You couldn’t have been. No way in hell. 

All the hairs on your arms stand on end as you peer out into the dining room. It is silent; silent and still. You hold your breath. You eyeball Mrs. Mac’s beautiful lace cloth; it is draped across the dining room table, nearly touching the floor.

Your grip on the kitchen sink turns your knuckles white.

There’s something underneath the table, screams a voice inside your head.

“Claude?” You whisper to nobody but yourself.

It must be Claude—Claude is on the prowl, and he’s licking at some table scraps. That must be it.

“Come out of there, you silly fat cat.” Your voice wavers that time. As you let go of the sink you approach the table as if it were a living thing, about to rear up on its hind legs and charge you down like an angry bull.

It’s just the cat. Just that stupid fat cat. In a second I’ll feel like a total idiot.

You tell yourself these things as you sink to your knees on the cold wooden floor and grab a fistful of tablecloth. The cloth is silky and cold in your fingers. Your heart pounds as you lift it, peering into the unknown beneath.

For a moment, you forget how to scream.

A dark silhouette is hunched over like a gargoyle beneath the table. 

It is a man, you realize; a man with wild hair and wild eyes. His pants are unzipped. Pearly teeth flash as he gawks at you, a horrible grin sprawling across his face. He pumps a piece of fabric furiously back and forth around his member.

“Pretty—mphh—pinky—ungh—panties…” The voice is instantly recognizable.

You drop the tablecloth and scramble backwards.

The man lunges from beneath the table like a rabid animal. Cold hands scrabble for a grip on your wrists; his momentum topples you. Your back meets the hardwood floor. He pins you with his weight.

You whip your head back and forth as fingers grapple at your jaw and pull on your nose and wrench your mouth wide open. The pink fabric is stuffed in, muffling your scream before it can leave your throat. 

The man clamps a cold, slender hand over your mouth. The grin he wears is manic. Your pulse thuds as hard and as fast as a runaway train in your neck, and as he leans in close you turn your head away from him. The wool of his turtleneck is scratchy against your clavicle. He reeks of mold and dust and cat food.

“Shhh-shush-shush-shushhh…” 

His mouth is inches from your own, sour breath hot against your cheek. 

It’s him. The man from the attic.

The tears come streaming down your face. You think you might die from the shock of it all alone, if the moaner doesn’t kill you first.

“Noisy. Noisy little pig. Trying to run away; trying to run away and tell on Billy.” He strokes your hair like a young girl fawning over a coveted doll.

“You’re not gonna tell, though.” The sound of his snickering is even worse in person. “No-no-no-no. You won’t do it. You won’t.” 

You recoil when his cold fingers graze your cheek, your whine stifled by the gag; your own panties. The taste of Billy’s seed on the fabric is salty and bitter. He’s been using them.

“Greedy greedy little piggy~” Billy’s garble is a sing-songy whisper.

“You think about Billy, you like Billy’s calls, you want to know how Billy tastes, you want his fat cock in your pretty lips so you can suck it, suck it, suck it-suck it-suck it.”

“Nnng-unnh—” You whine at him. A pang of anger flares in your belly.

No. No, no, no. That is just plain wrong. Those calls were vulgar. They were disgusting. Obscene; the very definition of the word. You were most certainly not rubbing one out to the thought of this vile man—to the thought of Billy—with all his classless promises of what he would do to your sisters, if given the chance, and of what he might do to you, in particular…

Above you, Billy snorts.

“Liar. You lying bitch-pig. You’re wet; you’re dripping. I can smell your ripe wet pussy.”

Suddenly those cold, roving fingers are dipping down below your waistline, burrowing beneath your pants. A finger hooks into your cunt up to the knuckle. You writhe, bucking your hips like a mare in heat and trying desperately to throw him off, but Billy’s weight is more than enough to keep you pinned.

Billy looks downright giddy; like he’s about to blow his load then and there. He flashes his lop-sided grin at you and his finger retreats from your warmth, only to be shoved hand-deep into your mouth. You taste your body’s own excitement.

“Soaking! Soaking wet! Nasty pig, filthy pig!” Billy squeals.

I don’t want it, you think, as Billy shifts his weight on top of you, facing your undeniably dripping cunt, planting his knees on either side of your head. His unzipped member dangles inches from your face. You kick your legs, but he is quick with the zipper of your jeans, and shucks them down your thighs with ease, offering your panties the same rough treatment. You squeak into your gag when he gropes starving handfuls of your ass, squeezing and kneading, as if enamoured with your curves; mesmerized.

It’s like he’s never touched a woman before. You suspect you’re not far from the truth.

You can do nothing but watch as Billy’s head dips down between your legs, dark hair tickling the flesh of your thighs. You whine; and that hot, wet, filthy tongue licks a long, sloppy stripe down your bare cunt—from your clit to your ass.

Billy mewls.

“Nasty, nasty nasty nasty—”

His erection bobs in your face, strained and swollen. You suppose you could spit out the gag at this point if you were determined enough. You could scream for Mrs. Mac and Barb and Jess and surely the neighbors would hear, too, and this pervert, this fucking creep, would be thrown back into whatever institution he crawled out of.

But then, the warmth of Billy’s mouth returns to suck and suck and suck at your clit.

You heave a muffled moan and thrash beneath him, no longer trying to dismount him—just because you can’t take it. 

You tremble when Billy’s hot tongue probes at your opening. It is a full-body tremble, a horrible shiver, and you feel that you are both burning up and freezing to death at the same time, a terrible hot-cold sensation. His tongue delves in as far as it can reach; he laps you up greedily. He grunts and moans and squeals all the while, and his member drags across your cheek, and you are not surprised when he plants his elbow on your chest and takes himself in his fist, pumping his cock furiously; back and forth, back and forth.

Billy grunts like an animal when he comes. Hot ropes of his seed spurt out on to your face, coating your lips and your cheeks and your nose.

“You won’t tell them…” Comes Billy’s pitchy whine. It is almost desperate. “You want more of Billy, so much more, so much more…”

You shudder, because you think he’s right.

[hothian-snow]

OC Music Meme

List one or more songs that relate to the following tagged by @a-muirehen​ tagging @sith-nb @elvhenyoung @rainofaugustsith @jacemalcom

OC: Yennevyr Dosal aka Lord Soteira

Reminds you of them most:

Moonsea by Phildel Don't share the past, if you won't share your heart All that we share is the view of these stars There are diamonds on the floor you can't take back There's an eyelash on the board, does she wear black? All the violence that I swore you could have back There's red varnish on the door, I don't wear that I called it, I called it, I called it the moon scene

The song depicts how she views the relationships in her life, from her very first lover to her current master. It speaks of the surface glam, the glittering mystique, the toxicity she sometimes fall into (most of the time originating from her), and the conflicting feelings of vulnerability. The tone of the song represents her perfectly.

Teen Idle by MARINA I want blood, guts, and angel cake I'm gonna puke it anyway I wish I'd been a teen idle Wish I'd been a prom queen, fighting for the title Instead of being sixteen and burning up a bible Feeling super, super, super suicidal

It's almost narcissistic how much Yen hates herself. She had battled with mental health issues which she hides away for the majority of her childhood and teenage years. Her father was oblivious to how bad she was suffering, and Gisele saw glimpses but not enough for her to directly intervene. Yen's obsession with creating an image for herself, of wanting to be unattainable just so she could be wanted, is depicted tragically well in this song. Also, the teen angst is lovely.

No Children by The Mountain Goats

And I hope I never get sober And I hope when you think of me years down the line You can't find one good thing to say [...] I am drowning There is no sign of land You are coming down with me Hand in unlovable hand And I hope you die I hope we both die

Yen’s depression song. Her self-destructiveness coupled with her spite makes a horrible combination that encapsulates her dysfunctional state.

Blinding by Florence + The Machine No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love

Yen has always been an escapist at heart- escaping the world, escaping from herself. It's about time she stops running, and wake up from that dream world. The death of her father and the supposed death of her childhood lover haunts her. It's time that she moved on.

Reminds another character of them:

Sober II by Lorde You asked if I was feeling it, I'm psycho high Know you won't remember in the morning when I speak my mind Lights are on and they've gone home, but who am I? Oh, how fast the evening passes Cleaning up the champagne glasses

Anyone who knew Yen on Celanon (or on her late night outs on Dromund Kaas) knows that she is a woman who wears 'glamour and trauma' like they are designer clothes. She loves to drink just so she can feel good, to flirt just so she can feel attractive, to party just so she can forget. An unhealthy coping mechanism to deal with what was initially just an unfulfilling familial relationship, and later to deal with her various emotional baggage.

Watching Ruth by Alexandre Desplat

A musical ost from The Shape of Water, one of my favorite films. The music reminds Darth Kharopos so much of Yen, even if Yen would never see herself in this song. A low, dramatic, slightly foreboding tune that turns into something out of a romantic bed-time story. He senses the pain and anguish in her, but in the end, he sees her in the best light possible. It is in their initial meeting that he sees her doing something out of the goodness of her heart- hence, he knows she isn't who she pretends to be, that she is better than she thinks she is. He sees the girl who, deep down, wishes that life would play out like a fairy tale.

Reminds you of a relationship of theirs

Gisele and Yen

Whisper by Birdeatsbaby Pulling through the distant nightmare A pain I’m hungry to share You’re my dirty secret But I won’t keep it Simmering and spilling over Calling every, every quarter I’ll be fire, earth and water Now you’re shouting I can hear ya Bang bang lover we’re running undercover From the guns of tyranny 

Gisele was her bodyguard and Yen was the crime princess. It was a fairy tale romance, only with guns and blood. Of course, Gisele realizes that the explosiveness and drama of their relationship was partially performative too- something Yen won’t admit.

Tyrkos Rosokor aka Darth Kharopos and Yen

Sylvia by The Antlers Sylvia, get your head out of the oven Go back to screaming and cursing Remind me again how everyone betrayed you Sylvia, get your head out of the covers Let me take your temperature You can throw the thermometer right back at me If that's what you want to do, okay?

Sometimes, Yen spirals. Their relationship becomes heavily toxic. At first, Darth Kharopos thought he’d helped her through her issues but mental health maintenance is a lifelong process, one that cannot be fixed with a few months of therapy. Especially, not when it is a childhood issue that is worsened by constant trauma. It gets worse when Yen reaches the point where she is powerful enough to lash out at the world, to potentially kill her master if she wishes it so.

Falling by Florence + The Machine

I've fallen out of favor and I've fallen from grace Fallen out of trees and I've fallen on my face Fallen out of taxis, out of windows too Fell in your opinion when I fell in love with you [...] I'm not scared to jump, I'm not scared to fall If there was nowhere to land I wouldn't be scared at all

Yen knew the dark side has become a part of her, no matter how much Darth Kharopos preaches about balance, about the light. Then, Yen realizes eventually that her master means something to her. She loves him- and that truly scares her. Stars, why did she ever catch feelings?

Love Run by The Amazing Devil

Love run, love run For all the things we wished we’d done Run from all you know that’s coming Run to show that love’s worth running to

Their bond has grown into something beyond that of master and apprentice. Love is a double-edged blade.

Darth Tiophis and Yen

Seven Devils by Florence + the Machine Seven devils all around you Seven devils in your house See, I was dead when I woke up this morning I'll be dead before the day is done

The ghost of Darth Tiphios has bored her way through Yen's spirit, and turned Yen into something else, something Other, one foot in this world and another elsewhere. Yen is ready to be a vessel for retribution.

The Horror and the Wild by The Amazing Devil

You're the daughter of sightless watching stones You watch the stars hurl all their fundaments In wonderment, at you and yours, forever asking more [...] We're drunk but drinking, sunk but sinking They thought us blind, we were just blinking [...] Give me back my heart you wingless thing

Darth Tiophis to Yen is like the Devil to a witch, like Hekate to Medea. This song is the song of Yen, the woman who bleed stars and learn from ghosts, a Sith powerful enough to go toe-to-toe with the likes of Darth Malgus. She is the legacy of Darth Tiophis, ancestor of Darth Lokess who is the infamous sorceress that attempted to overthrow the Sith Emperor and paid for it with her life.

[onewfantaesy]

Monsters in the Dark (Part 2)

(tw: ed)

He starts having dreams that he’s puking. He can feel the bile rising from his stomach, he can feel the gritty vomit getting stuck in his throat and the back of his nose, he can feel the way it makes him choke and squirm and heave. He wakes up shaking and clutching at his neck and gulping for air. Taemin hasn’t eaten anything for two days, but he stumbles to the bathroom immediately, tripping and falling over his own feet to gag over the toilet.

But he makes himself a coffee - black - and makes himself presentable to go to that day’s practice. His hair is combed to perfection and his face is washed and moisturized and his clothes don’t have a single wrinkle. He looks fine. He’s fine.

“Taemin, you’re looking really skinny lately,” someone tells him.

They’re lying, the voice in his head tells him. They just want you to eat and get fatter.

“I’m on a diet,” is all Taemin says in response. The smile on his face is tight, and he hides it behind the rim of his coffee cup. It’s almost empty. He needs more coffee.

Strands of hair come out in clumps when the stylist starts brushing it. She looks concerned. He tries to hide it behind a whine.

“You make me color it too much!” he complains. “Look what it’s doing to my hair!”

She sighs and styles it as best she can, getting him ready as quickly as possible. They’re running late. He sucks down a zero-calorie energy drink while she works on his hair. It makes his heart beat too hard and puts him on the brink of a panic attack for the rest of the day, but at least it keeps him awake.

When his parents come to visit him and see how his fridge is full of nothing but energy drinks, water bottles, kimchi, and low-fat cheese slices, they’re concerned. It’s understandable.

“I just haven’t gone grocery shopping in a while,” he tells his mother.

She comes back the next day with bags and bags of groceries. Puts everything away for him. Fully stocks his fridge and freezer and pantry. He thanks her and let’s her make dinner for him. He convinces himself it’s okay to eat it. He hadn’t eaten in two days, he can eat something his mother cooks for him.

And it’s a good dinner. He loves his mother’s cooking, no one cooks as well as she does, he firmly believes that. They laugh and smile and talk for hours, and even though Taemin tries telling her to sit down and relax afterwards, she insists that she can clean up for him too.

“I’ll wrap this all up for you, make it so all you have to do is take out a container and heat it up and you have a meal ready,” she tells him. She puts servings into individual tupperwares for him. There are six of them, enough to last him the entire rest of the week for dinner.

After she leaves, he cries on his couch and feels his whole body heaving and clutches a pillow to his stomach. He will not throw up, he will not throw up, he will not throw up. He refuses to throw up a meal his mother cooked for him.

But there were so many calories, the voice tells him. It will make you fat.

“Shut up,” he whispers, breathing too quickly into the pillow.

He makes it through two of the containers before the food his mother made for him spoils. Most of the groceries she bought for him rot in the fridge until he has to throw it all out, the stench of moldy food lingering in the kitchen.

But not before he had spent a night sitting on the floor of the kitchen with containers and jugs and boxes scattered around him, devouring everything he could get his hands on. He ate an entire meal of his mother’s all at once, plus extra kimchi and rice and bananas and dry cereal and juice boxes and Oreos and chocopies and hunks of cheese and chocolate bars and frozen waffles and whipped cream straight from the can. Everything and anything. He ends up vomiting all over his kitchen floor, and it’s horrible, he feels horrible. He’s doubled over and on all fours just puking his guts out, unchewed chunks of food he had swallowed whole getting stuck in his throat on the way back up.

Cleaning it up is worse than creating the mess. Almost makes him vomit a second time. He has to take the trash out at three in the morning when he’s done cleaning because the smell was making him sick. He passes a neighbor on the way to the trash shoot, and the older man gives him a funny look. Taemin just ducks his head and shuffles along and tries not to gag as he pushes the trashbag down. It makes him wonder if his neighbors can hear him when he pukes. The walls are thick and he’s never heard them, but what if?

Of course they hear you, the voice tells him. Because you’re a gross pathetic piece of shit.

“They think I’m disgusting,” he whispers to himself as he goes back inside.

His house still smells like vomit and lemon-scented disinfectant. He turns on fans and opens windows and tries going to sleep, but instead he lays in bed all night, staring at the way shadows dance across his bedroom walls.

Disgusting

Pathetic

Loser

Not good enough

Not skinny enough

Too fat

Too ugly

“Please stop,” he begs the shadows, clutching at his pillows. Then he mutters a Hail Mary, the prayer spilling from his lips in a shaking, whispered voice. Maybe it will make the demons in the dark go away. Maybe it will make his mind clear for just one night.

Your thighs are so big

A desperate whine is muffled by the pillow he holds to his face. Please, God, he just wants one night of quiet.

He spends his days off in the practice rooms anyway. He stares at himself in the mirrored walls, stares at the way his oversized clothes swallow him whole, stares at the circles under his eyes that he can’t seem to hide anymore even with the thickest concealers.

All of his shirts are too big. All of his hoodies are too big. All of his pants fall down if he doesn’t have a belt. Even his underwear doesn’t fit right anymore.

Good, the voice says as he stares at way his underwear hangs off his hips, daring Taemin to move the wrong way so they can go spilling to the floor.

He’s standing in a practice room staring at his reflection, his whole body swaying. He’s been practicing since dawn, and it’s almost two in the afternoon.

“No,” he says to his reflection, pointing a finger at the mirror. “We are not doing this again.”

His whole body is threatening to fall over, to collapse.

“We just ate this morning,” he says in a forceful tone. “I fed you! Start acting like it!”

It doesn’t matter that what he ate was a single 35 calorie rice cake with a tablespoon of peanut butter. It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t even eaten 150 calories even though he’s been dancing for eight or so hours. He drinks more water instead.

“You can have dinner later,” he tells his reflection after gulping down half a water bottle. “After four o’clock. Not a goddamn second sooner.”

I’m so hungry, the other voice tells him. Just feed me. Just one little thing.

“No,” he whispers in a desperate voice.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s desperately tapping the buttons on a vending machine, his hands shaking. He eats an entire bag of chips in less than a minute, then buys another bag, and then some fruit snacks.

“What’s with all the junk?” An Exo member laughs as he passes by.

Taemin freezes, hating that he’s been caught eating, and he doesn’t even answer, just gathers all his empty wrappers and runs away. He misses the way the Exo member looks so confused, and he doesn’t hear about how he goes and tells the other Exo members about the strange encounter when he gets to his own practice room.

He falls asleep in the dance room, the wrappers and crumbs scattered around him. Jongin comes and finds him, laughs a little bit, and pokes him with a foot. Taemin groans and looks at him through bleary eyes.

“Want me to take you home?”

“No,” Taemin groans, and he flops over on his other side.

“Wanna sleep here tonight?”

Taemin grunts. Jongin laughs again, but he gets on the floor next to him and puts a folded up sweatshirt under both of their heads. Then he slings an arm over Taemin’s hips, hugging him close. Taemin hides his face in Jongin’s chest and does his best not to shake or cry. Jongin will keep the monsters away. He’s good at that. Good at hugging Taemin and making him feel better and just being his best friend.

“It’s like we’re trainees again,” Jongin whispers, laughing.

“I wish we were,” Taemin whispers. Wishes he was younger again. Wishes he was so innocent again. Wishes he could prevent this from ever happening to himself. To go back and slap himself for thinking that skipping meals was a good idea and that he could stop anytime he wanted, because it was a lie, it was all a lie, what was he thinking?

He falls asleep cuddled against Jongin’s chest, only shivering a bit from the cold. Jongin hugs him tighter. It makes Taemin feel better, even if it’s only temporary.

[fizzingwizard]

I enjoyed this piece of Kizuna art so much that it spawned a ficlet X’D

-

With Ramen, It’s Okay to Slurp

Daisuke slurped loudly. The ramen bowl clattered on the counter as he plonked it down. "Hey Takada! More noodles!"

Sitting next to him, Ken's expression didn't change, but his gaze dropped to the expanding puddle of broth that had sloshed over the rim of Daisuke's bowl. He moved his own bowl a safe distance to the side.

"What, you're finished?" Yamato turned toward them with an incredulous look. "We got served five minutes ago!"

Daisuke's eyes glittered. "Five?"

"Seven," Taichi corrected him after swallowing, then very rudely jabbed his chopsticks in Daisuke's direction. "It's not a new record. And look, I'm finished too." He held out his bowl with a smug grin.

"Oh." Dejected, Daisuke slumped forward with his chin on the counter.

Yamato paused. A hand came up and scrubbed his brow. "Tell me you two aren't in a race to see who can eat ramen faster."

"Have you met Taichi and Daisuke?" Ken pointed out.

"Do you intend to grow up at all, ever?"

Taichi flicked broth at him. "Don't be such a wet blanket. They appreciate the business, don't ya, chef?"

The man swirling noodles in a large pot crossed over and set his arms on either side of the counter. He frowned. "Motomiya. Just because you're an apprentice here doesn't mean you can make a mess of the place.”

"But it's my birthday!" Daisuke protested. "This is my only birthday bash of the year!"

Takada leaned forward. "And do ya wanna make it to the next one?"

"Sorry, Takada."

Takada tossed a towel at him. "Make yourself useful. Noodles'll be another minute."

"Then it's on!" Daisuke made a fist at Taichi, wearing his fight face. The effect was cut somewhat, as he cleaned up his spilt broth, making circular motions with the towel.

Yamato sighed. "What were we talking about?"

"I don't know," said Ken, who hadn't been listening. He'd been too distracted waiting for Daisuke to spill.

"Taichi?"

"I don't know either."

"Must have been dull if none of us can remember." Yamato reached for the chili flakes.

Taichi beat him to it. "Here, lemme help you with that."

"No. If I've told you once I've told you a hundred times. These things require a gentle hand -"

"You know what I hate? That extra noodles are free, but to get any more pork I'd need to order a new bowl."

"- don't ignore me - a level of finesse that you definitely don't have, Taichi, quit it! Are you trying to make me puke?"

While Yamato grappled with Taichi for dominance over the chili flakes, Taichi's chopsticks sneaked under his elbow to snag a slice of pork from Yamato's bowl.

Ken saw it all. He stayed silent. Silence was safety.

"Fine, whatever, teach me your ways, O master of chili flakes."

"I'm not like you, I don't burn off my taste buds eating the whole bowl while it’s still at the boiling point - where the hell is my pork!"

"Taichi nabbed it," Daisuke shouted. Given their tight quarters, the shouting was not strictly necessary.

"I'll kill you!"

"Now now, calm down, remember you're an adult!"

Yamato grabbed Taichi's wrist and tried to shake the slice of pork free. His other hand flew up to block Taichi's head from nose-diving into his bowl.

Ken watched the broth in their bowls ripple in morbid fascination.

"C'mon, you're not gonna finish this anyway!"

"Yes I am!"

"Your delicate stomach can't take it!"

"I'll show you delicate!"

"Get 'im! Go for the eyes!" Daisuke egged them on, still shouting.

Did Daisuke even know which of them he was cheering for? Ken wondered.

Yamato's bowl came dangerously close to raining on the floor. That was the last straw. With a deft move, Ken's arm shot out and steadied it.

"Guys, we're in a public place," he said, careful to keep his tone even and free of accusation. And people thought Daisuke was a troublemaker. Those people had never met these two. His lips tipped in a grin that was mainly a plea. If he worked the right angle, these animals might at least pretend to behave like humans.

Yamato had the grace to look a little abashed. Or maybe his face was just red with anger. "He started it. But we're done now. Because I am an adult." He snatched his beer and took a vengeful swallow.

Ken nodded. "Yes. Yes, you are," he said, as he watched Taichi steal the slice of pork back while Yamato drank and toss the whole thing in his mouth.

The beer glass came slamming down. "TAICHI!"

"They're gonna get banned," Daisuke snickered. It was a bit obvious that he was enjoying himself.

"And so are you," said Takada.

"Eh? Me? I didn't do anything!"

"You brought them here."

Ken sagely nibbled a strip of seaweed. "That makes you an accomplice."

"But I'm your favorite apprentice!"

"Yes, you are," Takada said with a fond look. "Ah, my favorite, banned apprentice. He oversalted everything, but his cooking chops weren't too shabby. Too bad his apprenticeship got cut short before he learned what goes in my secret stock."

"No!" Daisuke gasped. "I'll stop them! Just wait - wait a second!"

He threw himself between Taichi and Yamato. To be more accurate, he threw himself at them, pulling them both off their stools, landing in a heap of tangled limbs on the floor.

This was why, when Daisuke said he wanted to go out for ramen for his birthday, Ken had... strongly suggested going during off-peak hours. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for his forethought.

Takada watched them wrestle for a minute. He looked at Ken. "So you're the voice of reason, then."

Ken shrugged. "Don't know if I deserve it, but... for what it's worth."

Takada nodded, mopping his brow with a towel. "Your meal's on the house. Get that," he jabbed his thumb at the heap, "off my floor before I come back with the noodles. Or they can pay double."

"Will do."

There were some perks to being the only normal one in the group, Ken thought with a secret smile after they finally paid and left, Daisuke grumbling the whole way home about his boss hitting on his best friend. As they parted from Taichi and Yamato with the obligatory round of "happy birthday" and "don't go wild now that you're legal to drink," Ken couldn't help but think he'd got a very good deal, all things considered. Daisuke's mood, at least, was easy to pick up with promises of birthday cake once they got home. By the time they reached the front door of their shared apartment, he'd be happy as a clam.

They could still hear Taichi and Yamato arguing over whether Taichi owed Yamato money for eating his pork as they crossed the street.

[beanfic]

Summertime Sadness - Ch. 2

Word count: 1521

Warnings: Underage drinking, partying, and language.

Author’s note: I’m really happy that so many people enjoyed the first chapter and are excited for this series! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Finally, a familiar face ;) (just lmk if you wanna be added to the tag list!) 

“Y/N!” you whipped around to see your friend Becca running over to you. “Let me get you a drink!”

“Thanks,” you mumbled shyly. You followed her to the kitchen and she handed you a red solo cup filled with a mixture of vodka and fruit punch. They called it jungle juice. “I like your outfit.”

“Thanks!” She smiled cheerfully. She was wearing a denim skirt with a sparkly red tank top.

Becca disappeared once you grabbed the drink, so you decided to go find Mariah. There was a lot of people at the party and a lot of unfamiliar faces. Your social anxiety wanted to come out, but you tried to make it disappear by taking longer and bigger sips. You eventually decided to just stand off to the side and people watch.

“It’s a party, go dance!” You looked over at the source of the voice. It was this taller guy. He was gorgeous. He had this short wavy brown hair that was a little longer on top, and his skin was covered in small little freckles. You could barely see them unless you looked closely. He had small little black gauges in his ears and had this smile that made his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“I-uh,” you stuttered.

“I’m Josh,” he held out his hand. “I’m Tyler’s friend and welcome to my barn!”

You shook his hand, still unable to form words. You could feel that your face was turning red, and you wanted to slither out of there and disappear forever.

“This is a really cool party,” you finally got the guts to say.

“Thanks! I always throw a graduation party for the suburbs, it’s kind of a tradition around here,” he smiled again, making your knees go weak. You had never had a guy, or a girl, have this effect on you.

“That’s so cool! I’m Mariah’s friend, she’s dating Tyler.” You immediately regretted saying that. Obviously, he knows who Mariah is.

“Nice. Your drink is empty, do you want me to fill it?”

“Sure.”

As you followed him to the kitchen you saw a very drunk Mariah running up to you.

“I see you met Josh! He’s soooo rad,” her words slurred out of her voice.

“Yeah!” you laughed as she almost tripped, causing Tyler to catch her.

“Hey, guys!” Becca called into the kitchen, “We are playing a game of spin the bottle! Come play and don’t be a little bitch.”

“I don’t know-” you started to say but Mariah placed her hand on your mouth.

“Live a little, Y/N!” She grabbed your hand and dragged you into the room where they were playing while Josh and Tyler followed behind.

The alcohol was starting to get you, making your tummy feel warm and your vision go blurry. You weren’t even sure if you were slurring your speech or not.

The first couple turns were with people you had no idea who they were. Then the bottle landed on Becca. You watched her get all nervous, and start biting her nails. She always did that when she was nervous. She spun the bottle and followed it  with her eyes until it landed on this older boy that was there.

You didn’t want to watch Becca kiss this older boy, but you couldn’t look away. The kiss was long, and you could see the saliva from their mouths as they pulled away.

“That was hot,” you heard some guy say. People’s voices started to not match up with their mouths, and the room began to spin even more.

“Oh shit! Y/N, it landed on you!” Mariah’s voice startled you, and you stared at the glass bottle that was pointing at you. You grabbed it and gave it a spin. It landed a couple people to your left, and you followed where it was pointing to lock eyes with Josh.

You haven’t had your first kiss, and you really didn’t want this to be your first kiss. You hesitated but Josh stood up and walked over to you. He grabbed your face and placed his lips on yours. His breath smelled like beer, and his lips were soft. You could feel your heart start to flutter after Josh pulled away from the peck.

“That was your first kiss!! Holy shit!!” Mariah screamed. You gave her a dirty look for her revealing that was your first kiss. You wanted to hide and disappear, and you ran out quickly with the sound of laughter filling the room behind you.

As you stood up you could feel the alcohol start to rise up your throat, and you knew you needed to find a toilet. Quick. You made it just in time, spilling your guts into the toilet. You started to hyperventilate as you realized how little control you have over your body.

You wanted to go home.

Now.

You picked up your phone and clicked on Johnny’s number, even though your vision was blurry. He picked up instantly.

“You need me to come to get you?”

“Yes please.”

“You sound so drunk. Just wait outside, and send me the address.”

“Okay.” You heard the phone call ended. You didn’t know the address. You left the bathroom and you opened the door to see Mariah waiting to go in.

“Hey Y/N, you okay?”

“I threw up, I’m having Johnny pick me up.”

“Oh okay.”

“I need the address.” you handed her your phone and you watched her type it into your phone and send it. You grabbed your phone back and stumbled towards the front door. You could see out of the corner of your eye Becca making out with the same guy from earlier. You also saw Josh playing darts with some of his other guy friends.

You watched his arm muscles flex every time he got ready to throw the dart. You were mesmerized with how his eyes look when he smiled and laughed. They squinted but they also sparkled. You loved his soft voice and warm hands. You thought about the kiss. It was only a peck, but it was still a kiss.

A kiss.

The honking from a car woke you up from your daydreaming. You shuffled over to your brother’s car and hopped into the front seat. You could tell Johnny was staring at you as if he was expecting a rundown of everything that happened.

“Stop staring at me,” you mumbled.

“You smell like beer and vodka.”

“I didn’t have a beer.”

“Then how are you so plastered?”

“Jungle juice.”

“Ah, the teenager's favorite drink.”

He didn’t talk much on the way home, he just listened to his music and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. You stared out the window and thought more of the kiss.

The kiss.

“Mom and dad are awake still, this might be difficult getting you upstairs.”

You rubbed your temples to try to get the dizziness to stop.

“I feel like I’m going to puke again.”

“You’re going to feel even worse tomorrow, I promise,” he chuckled.

“Not funny.”

“C’mon lets go.” Johnny got out of his car and walked over to your door. He opened it and picked you up to help get you out. He placed you on your feet but you were unable to stand up straight.

“Sick,” you whispered.

“What?”

“Si-” before you could finish your sentence you projectile vomited all over your brother's jeans and shoes.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N.”

“Don’t be mad.”

“Fuck, there’s mom.”

You looked up and you saw your mom standing in the front doorway. She had her arms crossed and her foot tapping. Typical angry mom. Johnny grabbed your arm and placed it around his shoulder, helping you walk. You wanted to avoid eye contact with your mom, but you could feel her eyes burning into you.

“Are you drunk?”

“No.” You lied.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Yes.”

Your mom sighed. That was a sign that she was disappointed in you, which is almost worse than making your mom angry.

“Can I go to bed, I don’t feel good,” you whined. You could tell Johnny also wanted to go get cleaned up.

“Fine, but we will have a talk tomorrow morning. You’re grounded, for a week.”

“Mom! It’s summer.”

“Should have thought about that.”

You looked up at Johnny for help, knowing that he drank when he was a teenager but he kept quiet. He probably would have helped if you didn’t vomit all over him.

Johnny guided you upstairs and into your bedroom.

“Can you get dressed on your own or do you need help with that too?”

“I can do it. I’m sorry I threw up on you.”

“It’s okay.”

“Thank you for picking me up tonight, I love you, big bro.”

“Of course, I love you too little sis. Now go to sleep.” He left your room and shut your door. You got changed into pajamas and tucked yourself in. You stared up at the ceiling, replaying all the events that happened tonight involving Josh.

You had never felt that way for a stranger before.

What was it about him?

@takenvysleep​

@ohprettyweeper​

@oncemorewithfeelingg

@gaiatheroyalrabbit

@svintsandghosts

@krispy-cakes

@patdsinner33

[magmasliveblogs]

1.04

i have not been captured by goblins! nor have i been turned into steak! this is the 5th chapter! 

recap: last chapter our protag, erin, returned to the inn and fought off some goblins. she also found a stream. now, onward! 

Her legs hurt. As she stepped outside Erin felt at the back of her legs and winced.

“Right. Knife cuts.”

She should wash that. If she had water. But since she didn’t and the wounds were already scabbed over, Erin left it and started walking.

i skipped over that section during the last post, but yeah erin was cut on her legs 

If there were, they didn’t seem interested in her at the moment. Erin found the strange, spindly trees easily and picked an armful of blue fruits. She sat and ate fourteen. It wasn’t that she was hungry so much as really thirsty. She sucked as much of the blue juice out of the fruits before gathering as many as she could carry and walked back to the inn. The seed cores she left where they lay.

…Actually, now that she thought of it…

Erin doubled back and grabbed two seed cores and placed them carefully on top of her stack of blue fruits.

always be ready for the those crabs. always be ready! 

“Firewood. If I could cut the wood away, that is.”

She thought of the incredibly stiff branches.

“…Nope. But wait a second. What about fallen branches? Or—”

She turned around and started walking back. But when she got there she found neither helpful twigs nor larger branches anywhere in the orchard.

“Weird.”

Frustrated, Erin kicked a tree and dodged another falling blue fruit. She added it to her armful and walked back to the inn.

The room was still a mess from last night’s fight. Erin sat the fruits down on one table and started righting chairs and tables.

“Stupid Goblins.”

yes it is probably a good idea to clean up, though when will we get visitors? 

“But I won.”

“Barely.”

“They’re not that dangerous.”

“Unless they stab me in my sleep. Or there are lots of them.”

“But I’m probably safe if I keep the windows and doors closed.”

“…Probably.”

“And there’s the rock-crab-thing.”

“…Does it eat Goblins?”

“They were eating the blue fruits. So they live nearby.”

“But I can run away from them.”

“…Until they chase me down and overwhelm me and eat my guts, that is.”

dont talk to yourself too much, or you could go insane 

Erin stopped and put her face in her hands. She immediately regretted that decision.

“Pheh! Dusty.”

She sighed and grabbed the rag. Time to clean up some…more?

“Uh. What happened to the dust?”

The floor of the inn was made out of floorboards. Very sensibly, and in keeping with the rest of the inn which was also made out of wood. However, Erin had never seen the floor before. Up till this very moment it had been covered by a thick layer of dust.

Now though she was staring at the floor. A clean, undusted floor. Erin stared and then stared some more. Then she looked at her hands.

“Was that me?”

It must have been, but how had she done it? Of the numerous and varied—of the few skills Erin possessed, cleaning was not one of them.

Oh, sure she could clean up spills and small messes. Anything that involved tossing water and mopping stuff up was okay. But this?

“I wasn’t even dusting for more than—an hour? Two? And it’s all clean.”

Erin scuffed at the floor and amended that thought.

“Sort of clean. You couldn’t eat your dinner off it I guess. But that’s why we have plates.”

And it was a definite upgrade from before. Distractedly Erin scratched her head and felt the caked dirt and dust on her face start to crumble away.

“The floor is clean. I am not.”

first of all, this seems like the skills from earlier took effect. also yeah, erin could use a bath 

“Right. I need a drink.”

Water, preferably. But Erin would have killed for a nice cool drink of anything, really. Too bad there wasn’t any water nearby.

“Time to find some. Or I’ll die. Whichever comes first.”

Erin wandered out of the inn. After a minute she walked back in, grabbed the knife, and closed the door behind her as she left. After another minute she walked back in and threw the dustrag on the ground. She slammed the door as she left this time.

this is quite amusing to picture 

“Water. Water is water. Because water. Where’s the water?”

Erin walked for a few minutes in one direction and saw no water. So she turned left and started walking that way.

“I could drink a Gatorade. Or a Pepsi. I like Coke too, though. What about Pepsi and Coke and Gatorade? Gatorpepcoke? Pegatoroke?”

It occurred to her that she wasn’t making much sense. Even for her, that was. Erin looked around for the water and felt her head spinning. Her head was really starting to hurt.

“Cogapeptorade?”

Her foot slipped. Or maybe she stumbled. But suddenly Erin tripped and had to spin around to keep her balance. That was so much fun that she started spinning around as she walked. She stopped after a few seconds and tried not to vomit.

“Feel sick.”

She wiped her brow. At least she wasn’t sweating. It was really hot, though. Weird.

those fruit may not have been the best for your health, or was it just the seed cores? the crab didnt like those 

not where she was. Maybe if she lay down she’d feel better?

Erin went to bend over. Halfway down she remembered.

“The stream!”

She tried to stand up and nearly fell flat on her face.

“Where—where was it?”

Head spinning, Erin looked around. The inn was still visible.

“It was there. So if I’m here…there?”

Shakily, Erin began stumbling towards where the stream was. As luck had it she was closer than she thought and came across the stream in a matter of minutes.

looks like she was able to find the stream once again! huzzah! this still leaves the question though, does the stream have fish? because if those fruits arent good for the health than fish might be the only other option. excluding the settlement in the distance of course 

The stream is fast flowing and cold. The young woman cares not. The instant she spots it she dashes madly into the water and flops down face first.

“Water!”

She cups her hands and begins drinking the water as fast as she can. Then she spits out the water and washes her hands of the grime caked onto it before trying again. She drinks one palmful, another, and then five more.

—-

It was around the fourth handful that Erin realized she’d made a bad mistake. The water was delicious and cold as ice cubes, but she was so thirsty she drank it down like…water. Five minutes later she was laying on her side trying not to puke.

Too much water on a dehydrated body. Erin could feel her stomach trying to empty itself and was determined not to let it.

“It—it hurts. It really hurts…”

After a while the pain went away. Erin reluctantly got back up. She was glad she hadn’t puked. She only had one pair of clothes after all.

Speaking of which…Erin raised her arm and sniffed.

“…Bath time.”

dont drink too much after not drinking, and i am glad she realizes that a bath is probably a good idea 

Erin ran her hand through her wet hair and sighed. She’d scrubbed hard, but without soap or shampoo what could you do? And when she thought about how she hadn’t used a toothbrush in days…

“Hm. So, [Basic Cleaning] was really a skill after all?”

Erin thought about it. It was better than thinking of cavities and rotting gums.

“…Huzzah. What a great skill! I mean, I might have to fight off giant crabs and Goblins, but at least I’ll be able to clean the floor while they eat me!”

She sighed and dunked her head into the water.

“Gah! Cold!”

our protag has realized that the skill is in fact real! lets hope the other one works just as well 

“Maybe today won’t be so bad after all.”

Erin laughed to herself.

“Or not. Knock on wood.”

She turned jokingly to find a piece of wood to knock on and saw it. A huge shadow in the water.

Erin shot out of the stream like a reverse cannonball just as the fish lunged. She felt something incredibly large brush past her navel, felt the slimy, slick feeling against her skin for one heart-stopping moment—

And then it was over. Erin lay on the grass, breathing for air as she stared at the fish flopping around on the grass.

“W—wh—”

ok fishing may be out of the picture for now 

Just in case Erin psyched herself up, ran over, and kicked the fish hard in the side.

“Aaaaaah!”

Erin hopped around in agony, clutching her foot.

“Is that thing made of rocks?”

yeah fishing is definitively out of the picture for now 

After a while Erin stopped hopping around and swearing. She limped over to the fish and stared at it. It had…two eyes. Four, actually. But it had two on each side. One big eye and a smaller eye right behind it.

“Ew. Mutant fish with teeth.”

Erin stared at it for a little while longer. Her stomach rumbled.

“Right. Lunch.”

She stared at the fish.

“…Sushi?”

but she doesnt really have any other options does she? plus she already has the fish 

“And hey, I need food. So it’s time to chop stuff up.”

Still, Erin hesitated. She’d never had to cut up a fish before. How was she supposed to do it? She had no idea.

“Huh. I guess [Basic Cooking] doesn’t work on fish.”

i agree, this doesnt really fit under the idea of basic cooking. sushi is more advanced 

Erin put down the knife and stepped into the common room to breathe for a while. When her stomach had stopped lurching she went back.

“There is no way I’m eating that. Cooked or raw. Actually, there’s no way I’m eating any of this without a frying pan.”

She looked around. Frying pan? Check. Good.

not copying it all but there was a lot of disgusting description of the insides of the fish. i would not want to eat this thing, even after cooking it to a crisp! 

She pressed hard with the knife. But it just wasn’t going through the skin. Annoyed, Erin pushed harder.

And slipped.

It happened in an instant. Her hand lost its traction and the blade skated across the scales.

“…Huh?”

Erin blinked, and held up her right hand. A gaping red line split her palm diagonally. There was no blood.

She flexed her hand once. That’s when the blood starting pooling. But there was no pain.

Erin looked around. Bandage? There were no bandages nearby. Or cloth.

Her hand felt…numb. Then tingly.

Bandages? Cloth? There were…curtains upstairs. Right? But they were dirty, and mouldy too.

this is bad

The blood was dripping onto the fish and the counter. Erin wanted to wipe it away, but she was still holding her knife. And suddenly, her hand started hurting.

“…Ow.”

Erin dropped the knife.

“Ahh. Ah.”

She gripped her wrist as hard as she could, stopping the blood flow. But the pain kept coming now, on and on.

“Bandage.”

She didn’t remember leaving the kitchen. But she was back with one of the curtains from upstairs and slicing it to make a bandage as blood soaked the cloth. It was hard. She could only use one hand and her other was hurting.

Eventually she wound the cloth tight and gritted her teeth as she tied a knot. The bloodstain was already spreading, but at least something was covering the wound. But it still hurt.

It hurt! Erin tried to think as she stumbled back to the common room. It wasn’t deep. Well, it was deep but she wasn’t looking at bone. But it felt really deep.

“It hurts.”

She didn’t have words to describe the agony in her hand. The rest of the world was dim and unimportant compared to the pain radiating from that one point. All of her senses were focused on that place, and it was all Erin could do not to scream.

“Screaming is bad. Quiet.”

She just knew it. Screaming would make it somehow so much worse. So instead Erin sat and gripped her wrist. The blood was dripping. It hurt.

It really hurt.

this is very bad 

The dead fish stared up at her on the cutting board drenched with her blood. It stank. At the same time, Erin’s stomach grumbled. She wasn’t hungry for fish, but she was hungry.

Still, she didn’t want to eat. Erin walked back to the chair and sat down. As she did she bumped the back of her legs. The knife cuts burned and hurt. A different kind of pain.

“I get it. It’s a bad day, right?”

Erin whispered. It made her feel better not to talk loudly. She was awake even though she was tired. The pain wasn’t going to let her sleep. And she was hungry, but she really didn’t want to eat.

So she sat, and watched her blood fall.

Drip.

okay now we have a bleeding hand, a rotting fish, giant crabs, and goblins to worry about. if i may reiterate, this is very much not good 

t was dark when the puddle stopped growing. It soaked into the floorboards, a dark stain in the night. Erin stared at the blackness. She couldn’t sleep.

“Still hurts.”

Erin stared at the table. She stared at the grain of the wood. No good. She couldn’t distract herself. But she had to.

So she began to whisper.

“Pawn…pawn to E4.”

She rested her injured hand on the table. It flared once in pain, and then resumed throbbing. Her other hand traced a square, and her eyes darted over the empty table.

“Pawn to E5. Pawn to F4. Pawn captures F4 – King’s Gambit Accepted. Bishop to C4, queen to H4. Check. Bishop’s Gambit. King to F1, pawn to B5. Bryan Counter-gambit. Bishop captures B5, knight moves to F6. Knight moves to F3…”

She kept talking long into the night. But the pain in her hand never stopped. It just kept hurting. And hurting.

aaaaand it gets worse. she cant sleep, and thus cant get any more of the levels, which could give her a skill that would help, plus she has started rambling out a chess game via chess notation. based on her backstory, this seems like a coping mechanism. lets hope our protag gets over this or gets help soon 

also thats the end of the chapter! the situation got a bit better and then got a lot worse. half a step forward 3 steps back i suppose. 

will our protag get over this pain? will she get medical help via a skill? will she stumble into the settlement in the distance half dead? find out next time! 

see you tomorrow! looks like this formula of post endings is sticking till i think of something better 

[unholyhelbiglinked]

Camp Beaverbrook | 012

CHECK OUT THE STORY FROM THE START

Hey Dad,

I bet you’re soaking up the rays, huh? It’s not really so sunny here anymore. There’s been a lot of rain and it’s about to put Beca out of a job. Gail wouldn’t do that, though. I don’t know why I’m talking about the weather. I feel like that’s the default thing to write about when you’ve got a lot on your mind. A lot of people have picked up their kids. There are still a few left… their parents are away abroad or on a cruise.

Love you lots,

Chloe.

The bathroom had an abrasive edge, the lights buzzing from the amount of artificial vision in pushed out. It was almost worse than the flies, the incessant nagging from little insects that would whizz by her ear in the heat of the day. This type of hum was consistent and transported her somewhere else.

It was like the rest stop that her parents had pulled up to on the way here: the milling scent of lavender tried to compensate for the overbearing one of bleach. The tiles were white, overbearingly so. Puke colored stalls were empty, and the mirrors were rusted at the edges, but it was a bathroom. An instant hood of chilled air that brought her back to a distorted reality.

Her sob echoed off the walls as her fingers gripped blindly at the white sink. They left little red marks where the blood hadn’t dried entirely, and she cursed herself for crying in the first place. Aubrey had been stabbed, had been so crudely attacked in the shower. All she had done was warn Gail like Paul Revere himself.

Chloe’s clothes were still damp and the sterile air bit away at them.

“sack up,” She reminded herself, digging her nails into the porcelain. Her knuckles turned white under the sheen of dried rust. It was like when she was learning how to drive. Her father told her to relax and let the car do most of the work, but Chloe still found her fingers aching at the end of every lesson. She never grew comfortable. “You’re okay. This is okay.”

Chloe would have clenched her eyes shut too if it would help. But it didn’t’.

Each time she did the image came back to her in flashes. The slick black dirt that was caked around Jane’s body looked like a hand of Gaea had reached up and palmed her with little consequence. She had frozen at some point during the night- eyes fogged over and gray. The rain had soaked through her camp shirt and the mud swam around her like clay.

She decided not to close her eyes often after that. Instead, she stared up at the ceiling and listened to the even breath of Beca sleeping across the room. It was consistent and safe. If she could hear that, then it would be okay. Eventually, she would lull into a fit of rest when the sun barely began to rise, and her cabin mate stirred herself.

Sometimes neither of them slept, just listened to the trees shift against the wind in the darkness that surrounded the cabin. Chloe tried not to look out the windows, either. Only the ceiling. A little groove in the wood that was darker than the rest.

The door had creaky hinges, shrieking like an animal that just needed to be put out of its misery. Chloe straightened up and sniffed, tempted to run her fingers under her eyes to catch the tears, but it would have been worse if she did. She could bear the crying, it was the streaks of red war paint that would undo her.  

Her eyes were dull against the harsh lighting but flashed towards the mirror, all intent tied into ducking away, scrubbing the blood from her hands and sheepishly heading back to her cabin with nothing more to do. Instead, she’s confronted with Beca. Beca Mitchel of all people.

Chloe’s heart was already singing a song of despair, but at the sight of the woman that she had pinned over for most of the summer, it picked up its speed. She wasn’t sure if the growing ache was a good or a bad thing. It wasn’t her choice to make, it seemed.

A ghastly purple welt was against the side of her cheek, stretching its darkened hands up towards her eye, like flowers begging for the taste of the sun. There was blood. Fresher than that of what was spilled against her hands. She averted her gaze for a moment, struggling to collect herself in the presence of the water instructor.

“Chloe, are you bleeding?” Beca asked.

“Not my blood.” Chloe Said.

Chloe wished that the same could be said about Beca, but it couldn’t be. That wasn’t a wound from just tripping and falling. This was something deliberate and it made a certain type of heat lick at her jaw with a melting poison.

“Did someone hurt you?” She asked, turning around as she kept her hands balanced on the sink, palms resting on the cold edge.

“Aubrey,” Beca scoffed. She shook her head and grasped hungrily at a length of towel that had been dangling. She pumped the contraption twice more before flicking on the sink. “Man, I knew she was unhinged but this?”

Beca submerged the brown paper under the water until it darkened. Chloe mulled over her thoughts, turning back to the sink as she tried to scrub away the blood that was wedged under her nails. It was all so natural, so practiced when she would run away giggling with a group of girls at a dance in an auditorium.

“She hit you, then?” Chloe chanced a stare before going back to her task “Did you swing back?”

“Of course not. She was clearly hurt.”

Beca was a better woman than she would have been. It took a lot to push against Chloe before she finally shoved back. But Aubrey had landed a clean punch and it took resistance to not pull away and administer one herself. She couldn’t’ tell if Beca was angry at the manic actions or if she was still in shock. She simply flinched away as she pressed the cool towel against the buzzing wound.

Chloe shut off the running water and braced herself against the sink. She leaned into it, letting both hands rest on either side. “I found her this morning in the showers. Someone had attacked her. Their knife hit her shoulder. It wasn’t deep enough to hurt her too much, but she… I don’t know why I’m making excuses for her.”

“Aubrey Posen thinks I’m a killer.”

Beca shifted the towel, letting it lower. She still had an angry crimson flushing her cheek. Chloe gently took the object and lifted her chin. Beca’s midnight eyes hardened before she drew in a breath and moved onto the sink, her ankles crossing automatically. Chloe’s mother used to do this when she was stung by a bee, or when she had fallen against pavement.

“It’s why she punched me- Ow!” Beca hissed as Chloe lilted her head to the side and dabbed the wound with a light touch. “Why she cornered me in the mess hall too… I let her have it though, you know? She’s never gotten violent before. Just thinly veiled threats. Today was different.”

Chloe swallowed roughly. She dropped the towel into the trashcan and let out a deep breath. She found herself using the sink as support once more. Her palms were on either side of Beca and a question bit at her lips.

“You think I’m one too, don’t you?” The younger woman averted her gaze. She swallowed roughly and fought back the urge to kick her feet back and forth. Her lip was wedged between her teeth and her breath was hot against Chloe’s cheek. She still craved the contact, even more in this frigid bathroom.

“No, I don’t think that.” She whispered. “Things are complicated right now. Aubrey likes to point fingers and make sense of things. She always has. You’re new, her first choice.”

“And I vanish a lot?”

“And you vanish a lot.”

Chloe cracked a smile, glancing up from her near leaning position. Beca was staring at the crooked painting of flowers on the wall. They were roses, three of them dawned in red. The petals were wilting but they still sat up straight in their vase.

“When I was at home, I got into some trouble.” She explained, voice little more than a whimper. “Nothing too bad. Breaking and entering, tagging. Stuff like that… I never actually hurt anyone.”

The taller girl nodded, her eyes softening. They had been here for close to a month and a half and nothing about Beca’s demeanor had shifted. She would scowl over her breakfast cereal and silently drink her beer at the end of the logs around the campfire, the flames shading her face.

“They caught me tagging some old factory that’s not even in use anymore. But it was enough for an arrest, my third one with charges. I uh… They gave me two options. Tread Lock and here.”

“The Detention center?” Chloe’s eyes widened.

“Yes, the Detention center.”

Chloe rolled her eyes but kept quiet, staring at the woman in front of her. Beca smelled like the lake, but not in a bad way. It was less of the muddy bottom and more like the way the sun reflected off of it on good days. Today wasn’t a good day, though.

“I chose here, and they assigned me with a detention officer. Wilkens… he’s not a terrible guy, just rough around the edges. We have to meet a couple times a week to fill out paperwork you know? All that legal stuff. He likes to come up here for Gail now, I’m sure.” Beca’s throat seemed to audibly tighten. “But with all this stuff, finding Jane, and Aubrey decking me square in the jaw, I don’t think finishing out my time here is an option anymore.”

“Beca,”

“No, Chloe.” She said, chest quivering. “I put myself here. I’m the one that broke into those properties and spray painted those walls. That, I will own up for. But murdering a sweet innocent girl? That’s not me Chloe, that’s not-“

Beca shuddered as tears dripped from her pristine midnight eyes. Her head hung low as she brought her hand up to her nose and squeezed the bridge. Chloe wrapped her tight. She held her close, sharing the sound of her heartbeat with another.

“Jane was a good person.” Beca swallowed dryly, her words vibrated against the edge of Chloe’s throat as she pulled back and rubbed the base of her nose against her arm. Her nose was stuffed, and her eyes were red. “The first week, she didn’t’ want to get into the water at all. She just wanted to read… read this, this book about flowers and a basement?”

“Flowers in the attic, yeah. It was Emily’s.” There was a certain fondness in her glossed over eyes.

“I got her to get in the water though, you know? And I think she actually enjoyed it. Or she was just really good at faking the whole thing.”

Beca made a noise that was a mix between a laugh and a heavy sigh, Chloe’s cold fingers grasped at her chin as she used her thumb to rub away the tears on the girl’s cheek. “I didn’t’ kill her Chloe.” She repeated, “I didn’t kill her.”

“I know,” She tucked a strand of coffee hair behind Beca’s ear, pressing her forehead against her own. “I believe you.”

[madelainesvixens]

CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT: CHAPTER THREE | FORSYTHE

Tuesday, September 29th

8:58

After an all nighter with Alice Smith, FP had trouble waking up for school on Tuesday morning. His dad had banged on his door, yelling at his son to wake up and FP almost didn't hear him. He was that tired. Not because Alice had worn him off in bed - he had an excellent stamina. It's just that with school, football practice/games and working a Pop's, keeping a regular sleeping schedule wasn't easy. Now that he had to up his grades, it was going to get tougher.

FP sat down behind his Math class's desk, rubbing his face with his hands in hope to wash his fatigue away. The bags under his eyes were darker than yesterday but they've seen worse.

''You look like hell, man. Did you have any sleep last night?'' Fred said, taking a seat next to him.

''Thanks, Andrews. You look good too.''

Fred glanced at his best friend again and pulled his eyebrows. It was hard to believe FP Jones was a ladies man with this appearance. His hair were unruly and although his white tee shirt was covered by his heavy, yellow and blue varsity jacket, Fred knew it came from FP's bedroom floor and not his dresser. Oh FP...

''Are you in tonight?''

''Yeah. Five to closure.''

Fred raised an eyebrow. ''You think you're gonna hold up?''

With a snort and an eye roll from FP as response, Fred dropped the subject.

.

12:21

FP walked down the aisles of the library, checking the numbers until he found the aisle 224. He had been drinking water from the fountain when a hand hovered the back of his jeans, squeezing once through the fabric, when an invitation to aisle 224 in ten minutes was purred into his ear. FP's lips had turned into a smirk, recognizing Alice's perfume and soft voice.

To the teenager's surprise, the library wasn't vacant during lunch hour. Students occupied the seats, books set on the tables right next to their lunch. The librarian had smiled at FP as he had walked through the doors and he politely returned it.

221.

222.

223.

224.

A smug smirk curled on FP's lips when he saw the biker blonde waiting for him at the end of the historical aisle, red and black mesh shirt giving him a good view of her bra. Her leather jacket was on the floor right next to her bag, a pack of smokes threatening to spill from the pocket. Alice made eye contact with the Bulldog and bit down her bottom lip seductively. ''Took you long enough,'' she pointed.

''I've never been here before.''

''I don't come here often either. It's not really my scene.'' FP crossed the distance between them, joining Alice at the end of the aisle. ''But, I'll let you on a little secret: 224 is my favorite.''

FP plucked a book from the shelves, reading the cover and huffed amusedly. ''Historical politics?'' he asked with an arched eyebrow.

Instead of replying, Alice grabbed him by the collar of his tee shirt and pulled him closer, crashing their lips together. FP kissed back, one of his hands coming on her lower back, pressing her against him while his other snaked up on Alice's side, feeling her skin under the thin top. Her dark painted nails curled into his tee shirt, grazing at his chest before let go of it.

FP moved his lips lower and grabbed her leather clad thigh as he kissed her neck, a soft moan leaving her lips, right before capturing them in a kiss.

No wonder aisle 224 was Alice's favorite. No one ever needed books from the historical politics aisle and it was in the far back of the library. Perfect for secret make out sessions.

FP's jacket joined Alice's on the floor before he hoisted the blonde up, her skirt ridding up, and backed her against the shelf, praying to god it was sturdy enough and wouldn't betray them. Alice smiled through the kiss, very on board with their new position.

While it was exciting to make out in the library, it was very restrictive. They had little space and couldn't make any sounds...or else they'd risk getting caught.  

The teenagers pulled away, both panting and stared into each other's eyes with lust. ''Are we going to have sex here? With all those nerdy virgin ears around us?'' FP questioned, a thrill of excitement running through his head at the thought of fucking between two shelves. Alice stole a kiss from him. ''Do you think you'll be able to keep quiet?''

Although no one ever talked about it, there was indeed a written rule saying having any type of sexual activities on school grounds was prohibited. It was common sense. And, if it came to Mr. Featherhead's ears that two of his students had sex in his library, they would both get expelled. With their current financial situation, FP wasn't sure his dad would appreciate that. It wouldn't look great on his college application for sure.

Alice chuckled. ''You'd be surprised of all the things I excel at, Jones.''

At that, FP felt his pants tightening, creating ideas in his head. What 'things' was she talking about? Was it her blowjob skills because he'd love to experience more of that. FP thought that Vixen sucked him good two weeks ago but, now that Alice Smith's lips had been on him, he's not sure anyone could beat that.

''But, no. We're not going to.'' She freed herself from FP's grip, booties touching the tiled floor. ''You'll have to wait until tonight...you know, for our Science assignment.''

Knowing his dad would be having another night shift tonight, the coast was clear to invite Alice over but, FP had other obligations he couldn't cancel. Not even for a good fuck. ''I'm working until closure tonight.''

''That's too bad, uh?'' Alice bent down to grab her bag and jacket, giving FP a perfect glance at her ass. He chewed down his bottom lip at the sight. Fuck, he wanted to tap that. Her leather mini outranked the cheerleaders's uniform without hesitation. Icing on the cake: he bet that Alice was wearing some skimpy underwear and not obligatory biker shorts. ''I guess I'll see you in class then.''

.

Friday, October 2nd

21:52

FP didn't hear of Alice until Friday. Friday was also a game night...and, be default the night his old man chose to invite his buddies at home for a drink.

It was almost ten when FP came home from the game. He was supposed to drop his bag, change and go to Mantle's for an after-game party but his plans were cancelled as soon as he stepped inside, the strong smell of whiskey filling his nostrils.

''Dad?''

No response. His truck was outside, he was home.

''Dad?'' he tried again but still nothing. FP toed off his shoes and walked down the hall, following the alcohol odor. ''I'm home. We won against Greendale, I-'' FP stopped himself mid sentence as he stepped into the living room. ''Shit.''

Forsythe was passed out on their couch, a bottle of whiskey smashed on the floor, the brown liquid spilled around it. He must've passed out holding it.

Dropping his bag on the floor, FP sighed and went to the kitchen to grab a cloth and the trash to clean up the mess on the floor before his dad would wake up and step on the pieces of glass. Last thing they needed was for Forsythe to get injured because of his drinking habits. How would they pay the bills? Certainly not with FP's part-time job a Pop's.

Having to clean up behind his dad became part of FP's routine. Every Friday nights he'd come home to empty beer bottles scattered around and a drunk father - sometimes passed out, sometimes not. On night he was still awake, Forsythe didn't have a clear mind. He'd pick up fights over silly things and once even hit his son. Sometimes, some of his dad's buddies were still there when FP came home and FP was quick to understand how pigs they were. Swearing left and right, talking shit about their wives and even puking on the floor. Honestly, it was nothing to be proud of.

FP was in the middle of cleaning up the sticky top of the table when the doorbell went off.

The teenager stiffened and stopped his cleaning. Who was that?

He checked the clock on the wall, realizing it was ten-thirty. Fuck. That must be Fred. FP had told him he'd meet him at his place in fifteen minutes. Fred must've been sick of waiting and decided to come and see what's taking so long.

The doorbell went off again, and again, and again. FP furrowed his eyebrows. Fred never pressed the doorbell repeatedly.

The raven haired boy set the cloth on the table and answered the door. Instead his fellow Bulldog and best friend, a beautiful blonde stood on his doorstep.

''Alice?''

In any other situation, FP would've been happy to see her but his father was passed out on their couch and his house reeked of alcohol.

''Are you going to let me in, or?'' Alice asked, arching an eyebrow. ''If I stay outside any longer, my left boob is going to freeze off.''

FP hesitated for a few second and reluctantly let her in, opening the door to his darkest secret, the one tried to cover it all up for years.

To his surprise, she didn't make any comments about the strong smell of whiskey nor his father's passed out figure of the couch. She knew better than to stick her nose in the Jones's businesses.

Alice took off her jacket, setting it on the arm of the lazy-boy chair. It was no surprise she was cold, she only wore a bustier and an open wave knit sweater under her jacket. Not a very smart choice for an October night. ''I thought you'd be at Mantle's party. I took a chance by coming here.''

''I intended to go but...yeah.'' FP nodded at his dad.  

He returned to the table he wasn't finished cleaning. While it was rude to clean while having guests over, he didn't really have a choice. He knew very well his dad won't clean up when he'll wake up from his deep sleep.

''You don't have to be embarrassed. I'm not gonna judge you over your dad's alcohol problems, FP,'' she said, picking up two empty bottles from the floor and carried them to the kitchen.

FP heard the clinking of the glass bottles and whirled his head around, seeing the blonde carrying bottles. ''What are you doing? You don't have to clean up after my dad.''

''Neither do you. You're not his damn servant,'' Alice pointed. ''He's an adult and should be looking out for you, not the other way around.''

Ever since his dad started drinking on the daily, a lot of his responsibilities had fallen on FP's shoulders because all his old man cared about was his six pack of beer he'd be downing the second he gets home from work. Most of the time, their fridge was empty bare from a carton of milk. Home cooked meals had been replaced by take out boxes and their weekly father-son dinner at Pop's had been replaced by FP getting a job at the infamous diner.

What would Forsythe do without FP? He could barely take care of himself, let alone do the laundry or cook.

''If I don't, who will?'' FP snapped.

He sighed, regretting it immediately. Alice was trying to help and he yelled at her. Wow, he's acting like his father when he's had too many beers... Guess the apple didn't fall far from the tree, uh? That thought made the teenager froze. No. No, no. FP had sworn himself he would never become him.

Alice narrowed her blue eyes at him. ''Hey! Do not talk to me on that tone,'' she warned. ''If I wanted to get yelled at, I would've stayed at home.''

''Sorry,'' he apologized. ''It's just-'' FP pinched the bridge of his nose and, recognizing the gesture as a sign of stress, Alice joined him on the floor. He sensed the proximity of her body and looked up. ''If I don't clean up and cover his track, our nosey neighbor will call the child protective services again and I might get taken away this time. They've had an eye on my dad for a couple months and if I get taken away, he will have no one. I'm all he has, Alice, I can't leave him. What will he do without me?''

If the situation was in reverse, FP could easily go to Fred's. They've been best friends for a long time and his dad loved him. When they were kids, they used to have sleepovers every weekends and would spend the whole summer together. Still today, the Andrews invited FP for dinner at least once a week and FP couldn't be more happy to skip a take out meal. Mr. Andrews was more of a father figure to him than his biological father was.

''No one knows. Beside you.''

Alice offered him a soft smile and put her hand over FP's in support. ''Consider your secret safe with me.''  

NEXT CHAPTER (X)

[striker-brayden]

Location: Betsy’s Office Date: August 17 Time: 11am

trigger warnings: Drug abuse, addiction, alcohol mention, mentions of vomit, and a brief hint of suicide.

“You ever going to let me add booze to one these things?” Brayden asks as Betsy hands him his mug of hot chocolate, giving him an amused look before shaking her head, “Of course not.”

He only asked to stall the inevitable, but he rolls his eyes anyway before taking a slow sip. It feels wrong to be drinking such a hot, rich drink in the middle of August, but he’s not complaining. It gives him something to focus on other than the session. He can sense where this session going, even though it hasn’t even started yet. The Foxes have to meet with Betsy in the beginning of each semester, but Brayden already meets with her frequently, so it’s almost just another day for him.

“Are you excited for the season?” Betsy asks.

“I don’t know,” He shrugs. “I guess I was a little. Grant and I worked on some strategy last year that I still remember.”

“Was?” Betsy repeats, tilting her head as she watches him.

“Landon’s the Assistant Coach for the Ravens now,” He shrugs nonchalantly, averting his gaze to his mug. He plays it off like it’s not a big deal, even though it has his mind whirling.

“I see. And you thought this would be your first season without him,” She adds.

“It still is, I guess. He’s not really playing…he’s just there,” Brayden mutters as he stares down at his hot chocolate. Landon is always there, even when he thinks he got rid of him. When Landon graduated high school, he thought that would be the last of him, but that got fucked up when Brayden also joined a Class I Exy team, leading him to face Landon on the court.

Shaking his head, he looks up at her, “I don’t want to talk about him.”

Taking the hint, she nods and scribbles something in her notebook, “That’s fine. Who are you living with this year? The same group?”

“Arlo, Sterling, and Grayson,” He answers flatly.

“Arlo,” She observes, smiling a little. “You two have become pretty good friends, right?”

Betsy says that like she wasn’t the one who talked Brayden through his meltdown last year. She encouraged him to apologize after he basically verbally attacked Arlo for suggesting they were anything more than acquaintances. Brayden suspects she just wants to hear him say the words.

“Yeah,” He nods, refusing to give her anything more.

Bee nods, clearly in approval, as she take a few notes. “You came a long way last year, Brayden. You made friends, and you were proactive in practices. I really want to see you continue to progress.”

“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming next?” He asks slowly.

“No, there’s no ‘but.’ I just know that progress can be scary or overwhelming, and sometimes it can cause people to regress instead. You don’t want to talk about your brother, but I think he’s an important topic to touch on, given what you just learned.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” He says, shifting his gaze to the window.  

“There is,” She responds quietly. “I know how hard it is for you every time you see him, and this change of plans could be potentially triggering for you.”

Brayden hates that word. Trigger. It’s thrown around so often now. Everything’s a trigger, and he hates being associated with something that makes him sound so pitiful. His jaw twitches in response, licking his lips before he speaks up, “Well, I’m not going to fuck up, so it’s fine.”

Betsy is quiet for a moment, but Brayden knows it’s because she’s jotting down notes, he can hear her pen against the paper, the sound alone makes his skin crawl. He’s been attending these sessions since he first came to Palmetto and they never get easier. And yet, he still stays with her every summer. He doesn’t have a choice, but he doesn’t put up a fight either.

He hates talking about Landon, because all it does is bring up the shitty memories of being back at home. Memories of feeling so invisible that he might as well have been dead. Of being so desperate for a fix that he would’ve done anything to get his hands on it. And through it all, his mother was too caught up in Landon to realize that her younger son was a drug addict, and Landon thought he was so pathetic that he just didn’t care.

“It’s an achievement each time you see your brother again and remain clean. You should be proud that you reacted to his new job so well,” She finally says when she looks up at him again before adding, “How did you feel when you found out? How did you get past it?”

“Fine,” He says shortly, his lips pursed in a tight line.

“You didn’t have any reaction?” By her tone, Brayden can tell she doesn’t believe him, prompting him to roll his eyes in frustration.

“I was fucking pissed. But I can’t do anything about it. So, I distracted myself. I hung out with Arlo or whatever. It’s not a big deal,” He knows he’s being defensive, and it’s not helping his case. He’s so afraid she’s going to dig deeper into his relationship with both Landon and Arlo that he’s trying to beat her to the punch.

Bee’s face remains neutral, even though he’s slowly unraveling. It’s not like she hasn’t seen it before. She simply nods, “You still try to brush past the topic whenever we talk about Arlo. I thought we got past this last year.”

There it is. It’s his own fault, but he knew the topic would land here eventually. He finds himself reaching for the mug of hot chocolate without meaning to, craving some sort of heat right now. Betsy’s fucking conniving with the stuff, somehow knowing the Foxes will eventually turn to it even if they deny it at first.

“I did. I just don’t want to talk about him,” He retorts, the edge in his voice clear now as the mug shakes in his hands, some of its contents spilling on to his sweats.  

Brayden notices her gaze go to his hands. She’s known him long enough to know what it means. She’s effecting him, picking him apart bit by bit.

“This is a safe space, Brayden. If you need to talk about him or Landon you can. And it’s important for your recovery that you don’t drown yourself by keeping it all inside. Did something happen with Arlo over the summer?”

Brayden knows she doesn’t mean it that way, but his mind automatically goes to the amount of almosts. That moment when their faces were too close while they watched fireworks from the roof of the car, or the one where their hands brushed as they shared a bag of chips during a HGTV binge. The summer was made of moments between them that were just too close. Where they could’ve crossed a line that Brayden can’t allow.

You can’t have him, you can’t have him, you can’t have him.

Brayden lets out a laugh that sounds a little too hysterical and shakes his head almost violently in response. “I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t know why we still talk at all. I’m clean, and I’ve been clean for years now, so I shouldn’t have to keep going to these sessions.” Bee doesn’t even flinch as Brayden’s voice raises. She sits there stoically, pen in hand as she studies him patiently.

“Brayden,” She begins after she lets him breathe for a moment. “Heroin is one of the most difficult drugs to recover from. That’s why so many addicts end up relapsing multiple times throughout the duration of many years. They say that many recovering heroin addicts never fully stop wanting to use. And when they’re confronted with a difficult situation, many will feel the urge to rely on it again. That’s why it’s important that we continue our sessions, so you stay on the correct path. You relapsed, and no one wants to see that happen again. We need to talk about what led your addiction in the first place and what keeps you from actually letting people in.”

“What does this have to do with Arlo?” He retorts. He’s heard it all before. He knows that he’s most likely going to spend the rest of his life actively trying not to fall back into his old bad habits.

“You still won’t let him in even when you’re friends, and I’m sure this stems from how your family made you feel,”  She informs him

“I don’t need Arlo or Landon,” He mumbles stubbornly, staring down at his shaking hands.

“You say you don’t need anyone, but you turned to drugs when you didn’t have anyone,” She reminds him. “Your mother and your brother hurt you, and so you pushed them away in response–“

“They went willingly,” Brayden interrupts quickly, but Bee keeps going.

“And now, you push anyone away who reaches out to you as a test to see who will stay and who will go. Even the ones who do pass your test, like Arlo, you keep at a distance. I don’t think you really want to be alone. I think you’re afraid of what will happen if you do have someone. You’re afraid they’ll leave,” She lets the words sink in before she adds the topping to the cake. “You can let yourself have things, Brayden. You’re allowed to be happy.”

“No,” Brayden’s out of his chair before his mind can catch up to his body, slamming his mug back down on the table. To his horror, his eyes begin to sting, and he really needs to get out of this room before he pukes or, worse, cries. “I don’t get to just have things. It doesn’t work like that. Just because I’m fucking in love with him–”

It’s the first time he’s said the words aloud or even mentally, and he just blurted it out to his fucking therapist. Afraid of what he’ll do next, he doesn’t spare her a second glance before he quickly leaves the room, letting the door slam shut behind him.

[statesmanillusionist]

five times houdini didn’t honeypot

and the one time she did.

aka: lauren what have you done????

includes mentions of vomiting and drugging. 

more than mentions of dom/sub, breathplay, shibari/bondage, sex toys.. i think that’s it? NSFW. 

five times houdini didn’t go on a honeypot….

Chicago.

They thought they’d need her at first.

Houdini was excited about a honeypot - she’d always seen them in spy films and thought it’d be fun.

It also would keep her mind off of the breakup she had with Tim.

She had everything ready to go, even made sure she had an extra condom in her clutch. Honeypot missions in Statesmen were always good fuel for gossip, too, and Houdini couldn’t wait to join in.

But then Ginger was pulling her aside and telling her it was a no go - there had been a problem earlier in the day while she was down in her office and there would no longer be need for a honeypot.

Houdini pouted, and spend the rest of the night curled up in her office chair watching shitty movies and crying over her ex.

San Diego.

The second time was when there was a key investor they needed information from regarding a new technological advancement that was potentially being worked in favor of the black market. It was going to be easy; slip in, flirt, snog in the bathroom, plant a device, maybe fuck.

Houdini was, once again, itching to have her turn.

Something had gone wrong during lunch, though, and it left her puking into a bucket in the medbay. Tequila gave the girl a look of pity as he passed through with Sprite.

She was sick for the next three days, and the mission was passed to Brandy.

Boston.

Being back in her home turf was going to give Houdini a morale boost after the last two missions failed. (Well, let’s rephrase that - the last two honeypot missions.)

Her own personal hookups were also failures and she was really, at this point, looking for a good fuck while on the clock.

Bourbon accompanied Houdini to the bar on the West End for his own enjoyment. What he didn’t see, as Houdini held her drink against the bartop as she spoke to the bartender, was an accomplice of the target slipping something into her drink by knocking into her. It was something the drug detector ring she wore didn’t pick up on, and only when Houdini nearly slipped from the barstool did Bourbon realize something was wrong.

No wonder there was a caution attached to the file. Even being vigilant couldn’t stop the worst from happening.

Las Vegas.

This was supposed to be another good one, under the lights of the strip and the casinos sparkling all around them. The high roller table was going to be the target as Vodka gave instructions over the comm. He had requested a honeypot from Ginger while at the Vegas HQ and immediately sent the first available agent - Houdini.

She had dolled herself up quite nicely, looking blonde and made of money, her highlighter shimmering in the many lights of the gambling floor.

… until Vodka revealed that the whole thing was a joke and that he was trying to fuck her instead.

Ginger wasn’t too happy, either, and gave explicit permission for Houdini to kick Vodka right where it hurt.

Miami.

This mission was definitely not a flop for the reasons the other ones were.

Houdini was partnered with Rum - who everyone happened to call Rum Cake - for a mission to get information from a trust fundy who was tied to a CEO dealing a strain of coke that would cause far too many problems if they couldn’t stop them.

The target was very into pretty people. It couldn’t be helped that on the beaches of Miami, that they went for Rum. He was very pretty and if Houdini were in the target’s shoes, she’d go for him too.

So instead she sat on the beach, sipping strawberry daiquiris until Rum came back looking absolutely worn out.

...and the one time she did.

New York City.

The moment she landed back at the Distillery from a mission in New Orleans, Houdini was sent packing for a mission in New York City.

A honeypot mission.

Part of her wondered how poorly it would turn out this time given her track record, but the moment she read the mission brief she began packing as if she had to run for her life.

Most of the other agents did not feel comfortable with the requests of this mission. It required… a certain taste, which is why Houdini was so willing to jump on a plane and head out to NYC.

The file prompted that the target not only enjoyed holding power over others in a court of law, but he also had that taste dip into the bedroom.

A note of caution was marked in Stephen Tiller’s file: approach only if capable.

Capable? She kept reading, seeing notices of breathplay, dom-leaning, enjoys bondage, and other comments that made her wonder if she’d make it through the flight in one piece. To think that other agents passed up this mission!

Her cover was simple; she was applying for an internship within his law firm. This honeypot would be a little dragged out, too, as she needed to get access to the files saved on the firm’s server.

The only thing she changed about her look was the color of her eyes. It was noted that the secretaries of the office - some who willing spilled over drinks that they tried to sleep with their boss, only to bail when he asked to put a hand around one’s neck, or to use sex toys - all had dark brown hair and blue eyes. Simple enough to fit the aesthetic of the man she was going to milk.

Houdini was going to make the most of this mission as if it were making up for every other failed honeypot that came before it.

The day she sauntered into the office in her heels and wrap dress was the day she also happened to find that the man also had an affinity for shorter women. Tiller sized her up quickly, his handshake meeting her equally strong one.

He knew he had found the right intern when the corner of her lips turned upward at the mention of ‘staying late’ and dinner on the first day.

The first night was the first time Houdini came so hard she saw stars for the first time in a year. Sure, masturbation was nice, but a man coaxing her into orgasm by simply finger-fucking her across the desk (all while her bracelet hacked into the server) was way better. Tiller made mention of sex toys, and she tucked that into the back of her mind. Maybe they’d get there before Champ extracted her.

For now, she focused on the feeling of warmth that was spreading through her body as she held her breath, Tiller humming from his seat at his desk as she came around his fingers, hard and encouraging for further play. She slipped down to her knees, wobbly and practically high, to take his erection without even asking.

He was definitely going to keep that one.

The data she pulled during the finger-fucking and blowjob session proved helpful and sent Statesman looking in the right direction.

Two nights later, Tiller invited Houdini out to dinner before taking him to one of the apartments he had in Midtown. There were rules, this evening. Everything was ‘yes sir’ - and by god did that feel good, slipping from her lips as he pinned her to the bed by her throat. No one handled her that roughly in the bedroom - a small girl is simply frail, most men thought - and her ass hurt the next day after the spanking she got for cumming before she was allowed.

Tiller was more impressed with the fact that she was keeping up with him. His previous attempts, as he called them, were very vanilla in their taste and did not like adventure in the bedroom. He mentioned that he considered going to a kink meet of sorts in one of the bars nearby, but there was a feeling of uncertainty in his voice as he brushed Houdini’s hair from her face.

Before she slipped into the shower to clean up after three separate rounds of rolling orgasms, she placed a tracker in his shoes. Another instance of getting in bed with the man proving useful for Statesman as Tiller met with unknowns during lunch halfway across the city.

She had submitted so easily to him that Tiller wondered if it was because of the internship, that she was doing it just for the job.

When Houdini allowed him to tie delicate knots across her petite frame, he knew it wasn’t just to keep her internship. He was fascinated, watching her rut against the dildo as he fucked her mouth, arms carefully bound behind her back. He was equally fascinated with the way she hummed in approval as he handed her a bottle of sparkling water, pink lips parting in a way he never really noticed before as she sat naked in the bath after a rougher than usual night of fun.

It was a shame, having to pull out of the mission after it was completed. Her cover was that of a death in the family and a need to take care of her aging mother; Tiller lapped it up just like the few times he had done with her cunt throughout her three week stint as his intern.

In a way, he was thankful Houdini fucked him as well as he did, before the court came and fucked him the day after she left.

Houdini, on the other hand, still struggled to find someone who’d give it to her the way she wanted, hard and core-shaking with an intimate level of trust.

At least there were some nights from the mission archived for review.

[trickormemes]

Elijah & Christine sentence starters

195 starters feel free to change gender pronouns content warning: alcohol mention, cussing, drug mention, sexual themes, violence

"I'll fucking kill you, you hear me?! I'll fucking kill you!"

"I just woke up and realized that I got fucking bit by a brown fucking recluse spider, which is my literal biggest fear."

"I actually feel like I'm on the set of Glee right now."

"You're gonna get bullied. Or do the bullying, I don't know..."

"Someone's gonna jerk off to this."

"No, we have to go. No. Come on."

"I don't have a tongue."

"Yeah, I'm pretty gay."

"What if someone's window was down at a stop sign and I screamed at the top of my lungs "Help! Help me, they're trying to kill me!"? What would they do? How would they react?"

"I got my test results back! I'm gay!"

"I peed my pants at the movie theater when we saw the last Lord of the Rings movie because I drank an extra large Mr. Pibb, and it was like a four hour movie, and I didn't wanna miss it so I just peed my pants and I was literally, like... I was like ten years old."

"This should not be on the internet."

"That is a furry butt plug."

"Do you know where vaginas are?"

"Just eat the lube."

"We're not making a fucking sex tape."

"He just called me ugly."

"You are gonna have the cock of a life time."

"I went to the bathroom because I had to poop, but I was pooping so hard I started sweating and I had to get my makeup redone."

"I broke it."

"What is that on your shirt?"

"I feel like Hannah Montana in the beginning of the Hannah Montana Movie where she has to drive the golf cart into the backstage of the stadium to get to hair and makeup on time."

"Finger me with those!"

"_____! Wake the fuck up, you're at a party!"

"Honey, I'm going to fucking Willy Wonka's goddamn chocolate factory!"

"See, bitch? What the fuck I tell you? Willy goddamn Wonka."

"Tell me why it's five o'clock in the morning and you have a fucking tomato on your bed."

"Why do you have hot dogs in your fucking backpack?"

"Look at that little mannequin. Why is he standing like that?"

"I got this pretty sick disappearing act. You wanna see it?"

"What's your social security number?"

"That's not an air horn, that's hair spray."

"Listen, I was told to be a YouTuber all I needed was some fucking Orbeez and a hot knife."

"I post new videos every day because I have no goddamn life."

"You're fucking cleaning these up!"

"I'm gonna throw up my slushie."

"I always knew since the day I was born I was meant to be a goblin."

"A small child just kicked my leg. Not even joking."

"You look like you might get kicked out of a Christian Halloween party."

"I like my women like I like my forks. In my mouth."

"You lost already."

"You walked a whole block and didn't fall over. Good job."

"Eat the booty like groceries."

"You need to go because you don't fucking live here."

"I hope you both fucking fall."

"I'M LEAKIIIINNGG!!!"

"You look like you're fucking dying."

"I got your beef and broccoli right here, baby."

"I feel like I'm in clay-mation. I feel my whole life is in stop-motion. I'm Coraline."

"Yeah, and by 'yeah' I mean 'fuck no.'"

"Get your witch fingers off me."

"You look like Kesha in 2009."

"Nobody here fucking knows you."

"I know in my heart that it isn't true, but it still hurts my feelings."

"_____ just got a Nintendo Switch, uh, so she just... hasn't said a word for the past 48 hours."

"This is some complicated Lego action. There's two fucking booklets."

"Would you fuck like a real—like a life-size Lego person?"

"I would fuck Lego Chris Pratt. I would fuck human Chris Pratt. I would fuck Chris Pratt's horse. I said horse, I meant corpse."

"Not everything is gay fanfiction, _____."

"It's spicy. It got in my eye."

"Oh my god, it's a Valentine's Day card from my grandpa... And he gave me ten dollars!"

"Get up. We're going out to dinner."

"_____, you are the most disgusting person I know, and I just wanna spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

*rapping* "Rain drop, drop top, he just proposed with a Ring Pop."

"Okay, can you not be... so cute?"

"Why are you smoking weed on the fucking toilet?"

"Bitch, you know this isn't your house, right?"

"I wanna bake fucking weed brownies in an EZ Bake oven, so we're going into Walmart to get an EZ Bake oven."

"A solid substance is definitely not a good substitute for liquid."

"I don't know how to park this fucking car."

"How do you smell like Home Town Pride? What would my— My hometown would smell like stale beer and, like, Cheetos."

"Look, they make personalized candles. Smells like divorce."

"Even I don't know why I did that."

"_____, I'm literally gonna shit myself."

"I know you can't drink anymore. You've had too many shots."

"Oh, I fucking hate you! You bitch! Fuck you!"

"This is so easy. Why do you complain about it? It's not a hard job."

"God is a woman."

"Which side are you trying to fucking get on? Which one?"

"Why the fuck would we smoke weed out of a watermelon?"

"I just made a fucking Pringle bong, bitch."

"I feel like I'm being probed by aliens."

"Do whatever you want to me."

"Make it ten dollars next time, bitch."

"I am shooketh."

"I licked it. I got a little taste."

"It's a fucking cake. Stop calling it brownies."

"Honey, my life's Hell on Earth."

"It's not that fucking deep, it's a video game."

"Why the fuck do you look like a Miami coke-dealer dad right now?"

"Man, I feel like I'm in, like, Sex and the City right now. Like an episode of Girls right now. Like I'm in an episode of, like, Broad City."

"I'm giving _____ 'fuck me' eyes."

"Don't change the song, you're not the fucking DJ. What are you putting on?"

"Why do you know the whole dance?"

"If I croak, you can have my eye balls."

"I'm drunk as shit."

"It's been two hours of this shit. Can you guys just fucking stop?"

"We said we weren't gonna drink tonight, and now we're drunk on these stairs."

"YOU'RE FUCKING TOASTING PIZZA?!"

"You get points on the creativity, but you fucking lost on the execution, BITCH!"

"Get in the fucking car."

"_____, we've been driving for six fucking hours. Where are we going?"

"Quit being such a little bitch."

"I'm filming this. This is a horrible film."

"My drag name is Goblin Breath."

"I bit my swimming instructor in the face."

"Why would I have to be drunk to do that?"

"I feel like three-years-old is a little too old to be biting people in the face."

"That is the most 'you' sentence I have ever heard come out of your mouth."

"COME ON, DRINK UP, BITCH!"

"You're ten shots in already? This is gonna be a fucking disaster."

"I full-on peed my pants."

"_____, the smile you got when you thought you answered that right was pretty amazing."

"How my ass taste, bitch?"

"_____, I don't think you can put a dildo on top of Christmas tree. It's really weird."

"Okay, I'm not sure if it's historically accurate, but I'm pretty sure Jesus would puke too."

"If you fuck this up, I will JFK you."

"Why am I fucking trusting you to do this?"

"I'm still drunk, but today's another day, you know?"

"Can you hold it together for two fucking minutes?"

"I can't hold it together for three fucking seconds."

"Sorry you're low-key ugly."

"Hey, baby girl, you high as fuck."

"Someone's gonna Photoshop a dick in your mouth. And now I just solidified that by saying it."

"This looks like the beginning of a CSI episode where, like, a crazy cat lady gets murdered."

"Didn't I tell you you're not allowed to talk on our vlogs unless your shirt's off?"

"I'll fuck your belly button."

"Why are you still here? You have your own house."

"Honestly, these little dick candies aren't that fucking bad."

"My mom is disappointed in me."

"I got a gingerbread house."

"Aggressive, max. size twelve-inch—sounds good!"

"Your math probably isn't off, but like, your morals are."

"Oh look, another sad kid in a black hoodie."

"I built a little ball pit to smoke weed in."

"I'm the Rachel Ray of alien egg-laying dildos."

"Are you using a marker to stir it? There's literally spoons over there."

"Let's keep it PG, please."

"If you spit in my mouth I will murder your family. I will murder your entire family. I will gut you and feed you to the birds."

"Okay, the three things I hate: heights, small spaces, and you."

"Why are you the adult Honey Boo Boo child?"

"Do I need this? No. Do I want it? ...Also no."

"You better stop it, you're gonna give me a little chub."

"This is why people think we're dating all the time."

"This is supposed to be bottomless mimosas. I can clearly... I can cleary see the bottom."

"If I don't get married in the next five minutes I will riot."

"This is the most action I've gotten in years."

"Already spilled... literally ten seconds into my meal. Awesome."

"I don't even know what I said. I don't know what I'm saying right now."

"That ruined my life."

"The taste is good, the texture is like eating your grandpa's ballsack."

"The world would be a better place if everybody just pissed their pants."

"I'm not even gonna try because I know the answer's no."

"I mean, I'm seeing it right now and I'm underwhelmed."

"You're a walking fucking disaster."

"Take a bite. Get ready to have your world rocked."

"I HOPE YOU BREAK UP!"

"You look like a fucking glazed donut, honey."

"Ew, ew, oh my god, there's children, ew!" *gags*

"Not the first time I've ruined a party because I was naked and screaming."

"That used to be a [insert restaurant name] and I almost fought a girl in the parking lot once. But she didn't show up."

"Oh my god, that's dark. Why did you laugh?"

"This show's not for free, honey."

"Why is your brain full of so much useless information?"

"Why did you just call Mr. Krabs by his first name?"

"It tastes like a Starbust for your dick."

"No one wants to fuck you. Sorry."

“Like the most basic law of human nature. Everyone knows that... bagels are straight.”

“Recreate the Friends intro right now.”

“GO! YES! BITCH! GET IT!”

“I got this soda from a gas station-truck stop, and apparently it’s soda that makes you horny.”

“I need two pasties for one nipple because my nipples are so big. Like, this big. They’re, like, not pepperonis, they’re like salamis.”

“I’m, like, livid. I cannot believe you don’t have a phone case right now. What is wrong with you?”

“The horny soda! I’m horny now!”

“I feel like I’m in a romantic comedy.”

“We’re gonna fucking die out here. It’s like The Hills Have Eyes.”

“We’re stranded in the desert... Well, at least we’re together.”

“At least friendship doesn’t overheat.”

“My conditioner opened in my backpack and now it looks like there’s cum on all my clothes.”

“Trying to get laid is so fucking annoying.”

“See, if you get an Audi and you drive it off the lot, it depreciates immediately. Chanel doesn’t depreciate. I can sell this in ten years.”

“I’m having a quarter-life crisis.”

“Why am I out of breath?”

“How do you fit two penises in one hole?”

“You were just crawling naked on the ground. Why would you do that?”

“It’s 7:30 in the fucking morning. Go back to sleep.”

“Does it hurt for water to become ice? You’re changing your molecular composition. Like... you’re probably gonna experience some discomfort.”

“Are you gonna cry now? What is going on?”

“I have not looked this shitty in so long.”

“I feel like I got hit by a fucking bus.”

“Run ‘em over.”

“Why are there ghosts in my fucking apartment?”

“If I wanna sit on the grass and feel the uneasy presence of ghosts, I would just go to my grandma’s house.”

“I’m like a surprisingly good cook for somebody whose method of cooking is just putting everything in a pan and hoping for the best, but it works out, like, nine out of ten times.”

“I flake on people, I’m sorry. I’m also a bad texter.”