#i just wanted to fuck around in al honesty

[barcaatthemoon]

the truth ii || jenni hermoso x reader ||

the aftermath of your breakdown.

jenni found herself walking back to the hotel soon after alexia took you away. mapi would probably kick her ass in the morning for everything, but jenni had been waiting for that moment to come. she had expected punches to come flying her way when she came back from mexico, but it seemed that you had kept quiet about the break up. you had even kept quiet when you had to stand by and watch as jenni buried herself in between the legs of various women to distract herself from you.

"ale, open up," jenni said as she knocked on your hotel room door. she had expected to find alexia watching over you for the night, and was partially shocked to see ona and patri there instead. "where is alexia?"

"she's getting some things for (y/n), who has been very chatty by the way," ona warned. jenni knew from the silence and tension radiating from patri that you told them what happened. jenni couldn't think of anything to say to defend herself.

"i'm sorry." jenni stood awkwardly at the door, hoping that one of them would let her in. "i didn't know what happened at first, but eventually it started to come back in bits and pieces."

"jenni, go back to your own room," alexia said as she pushed past jenni to get into your room.

"i want to talk to you," jenni said. alexia gave the younger players a nod as she put the thing she had bought for you in their arms. jenni stepped into the hallway with alexia, who lost her cool once the door was shut. jenni hadn't expected the outburst from alexia, who despite her poor temper, had gotten it under control as she came into the position of captain.

"how could you let me treat her like that? you knew what you did, jenni. we loved and supported you unconditionally, all the while you were the own cause of your sadness. if you would have gotten over yourself, the two of you could have been married by now!" alexia's voice was raised and her hands were fisted around the collar of jenni's shirt. jenni was backed against the wall, just waiting for the inevitable punch to come from alexia's fist. "they shut her out because we all thought she broke your heart and ran."

"i'm sorry," jenni apologized. alexia let go of her, unable to look at jenni for a second longer. "this is a mess, and it's all my fault. i don't know how to fix it."

"you'll be damn lucky if any of us can fix this. because of you, we all hurt her too. if you would have just told the fucking truth, none of this would have happened. you didn't mean any of that, not even in the message," alexia said. jenni froze at the mention of the voicemail. her face fell immediately.

"y-you heard the voicemail?" jenni felt like all of the air had been forced out of her lungs as alexia nodded her head. she had expected you to delete it. a night of drinking had coaxed jenni into venting to you about the breakup and all the things she had said. the only issue was that jenni was full of misplaced anger, and every terrible thing she felt about herself had been directed at you instead. "i didn't mean any of that about (y/n). it as about me, it was always about me."

"just get the hell out of here for now," alexia said. she was at a loss as to what she should have done. she knew that jenni hadn't meant any of that towards you, but that didn't change the fact that she had said it. nothing would ever be able to change the fact that she had said it, and despite the fact that alexia knew both of you still loved each other deeply, she wasn't sure that she was comfortable letting you go back to jenni after everything. it could only be a matter of time before she got fucked up again, leaving you to go through the whole ordeal once more.

…

slowly over the course of the next few days, the team seemed to warm up to you again. ona and patri had refused to leave your side, both of them apologizing for icing you out profousely. in all honesty, you knew that you should have been mad at them, but you were far too relieved to have friends again to care. even better than that, you were glad to no longer have to avoid your captain or the players you used to look to for guidance.

"i don't know if this is really your thing, but i was going to go with some of the girls to a candy store. i've heard a lot about it online, it's supposed to be pretty cool," mapi said as she stood awkwardly in front of your seat. you had eaten breakfast with ona, patri, and pina. it was nice, aside from the fact that jenni spent the whole morning in the corner by herself, not even sitting at a table. you had been mad at her, but you still didn't want her to be shut out by the team like you were.

"yeah, that sounds good. maybe you should ask jenni too, i bet she'd like to come," you tried to suggest. mapi gave you a look as she sat down across from you. "she's been your friend longer than i've been here. longer than any of you have known i existed. remember that i knew it was risky dating her with the age gap."

"yes, but jenni knows what she did. has she even apologized to you?" mapi asked. you shrugged. technically, there had been quite a few apologies, but none of them had been very good. jenni's sincerity had been wasted away because of your anger, and by the time you were willing to hear her out, she was mad at you.

"it's complicated, mapi. even after everything, i still love her and that's got to mean something," you reasoned.

"yeah, it means you're young. i'd stay away from her if i was you," mapi warned. you nodded in understanding, but chose not to say anything. mapi wandered off to gather up a few more girls to go to the candy store with you, which was when you took your opportunity to sneak back to your room. all you had wanted was a little time to process your thoughts, but nobody wanted to leave you alone.

you understood patri and ona being clingy, especially ona, but it was still rough on you. being alone had become your norm in germany, and while your contract was coming up soon, you weren't sure if you wanted to go back to barcelona. alexia had been pushing for it, which was part of why you had agreed to go out with mapi today instead. mapi had been the one to listen to you talk about the different club options silently yesterday. alexia had been loud, giving you a million reasons why barcelona was better than all of the other ones.

"shit, sorry. i can wait," jenni said as she walked over to the elevators. you didn't look over towards her, not even as the doors opened. you stepped inside first. jenni just stood there until you held the door open for her, indicating that you didn't mind her coming in too. "are you sure?"

"no, but you should come here anyway," you told her. jenni cracked a small smile as she stepped into the elevator with you. it was a little awkward at first, and even more so when you looked over to find her staring at you. "you didn't have to sit on the floor at breakfast today. i'm sure someone would have sat with you."

"not a chance. if we didn't have more games, i'd be back in mexico already," jenni admitted. she had planned on staying an extra couple of weeks in spain to spend with friends and family. you didn't like the idea of her abandoning that because of that happened with you. "i saw on instagram that you're going to be a free agent soon. i didn't think you had signed such a short contract."

"alexia wants me to come back to barcelona, but i'm not sure. i haven't told ona or patri that jona wants me back yet. god, she'll be so mad if i don't come back," you sighed. jenni cautiously reached out and placed her hand on your back. "you really made a mess of things for me."

"i made a mess of things for both of us, and i am so sorry. those things i said, i wasn't talking about you when i said them. i was talking about me," jenni admitted. your brows furrowed as you stared at her. "i hadn't thought much about how it would look at first, and then it was pushed into my head so i couldn't think of anything else. i never thought to ask you if you thought i was taking advantage of you. i mean, it all happened so fast at first."

"would you have ever asked me out if we didn't get drunk and sleep together?" you asked. jenni bit her lip awkwardly as she rubbed the back of her neck. "tell me. i want to hear the truth jenni."

"no, nothing would have ever happened if that first night didn't. i wouldn't have let you keep coming over, but i think i still would have loved you. i wouldn't have gotten nervous when you kissed me at alexia's, so i wouldn't have thrown up everywhere on the balcony. you wouldn't have had to drive me back to my place to take care of me, and i wouldn't have asked you to move in with me," jenni admitted. "i wouldn't have been 32 with a 19 year old girlfriend. we wouldn't have to tell the team, and patri wouldn't have ever fucking gotten in my face about us, so i wouldn't have come back home and yelled at you like that. so, i am sorry that i didn't have any fucking control, but i don't regret sleeping with you one bit."

"i don't either," you whispered. jenni glanced over at you with a small smile on her face. it didn't do much to hide the tears in her eyes or the way that her voice had been shaking as she recounted the things that wouldn't have happened if you hadn't slept with jenni for the first time.

"you should. you should be angrier with me than you are. i know that i can't stand myself when someone mentions you." jenni sank back into herself a little. you knew that jenni being upset and genuine about the breakup should have made you feel better, but it only made you feel worse. "thank you for listening to me."

"can i talk now?" you asked jenni. she nodded and you pressed the emergency stop button on the elevator. "sit down."

jenni did exactly as you asked, sliding down the wall to sit. you sat down across from her with your legs crossed. it was a habit that alexia and mapi got onto you for because it was truly terrible for your knees. jenni had never gotten onto you for things like they did, she had always gently corrected you, if she ever did. jenni liked being your girlfriend much more than she liked being an authority figure or mentor.

"if you would have talked to me about what was bothering you back then, i could have helped. i could have reassured you that you weren't taking advantage of me. i could have reminded you that every step of the way, i resisted through your persistence that it wasn't right. i could have reminded you that i wanted this so badly that i used to stay up all night trying to figure out how the hell i was going to be around you the next day," you told her.

jenni pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, balling herself up a bit. you could see the nervous little twitch in her fingers that she tried to hide. despite what you knew was in your best interests, you reached out and took jenni's hand. almost immediately, the floodgates opened up for her and she launched herself into your arms.

"i don't think that we can do this again jenni, i really don't," you sighed. jenni glanced up at you, her makeup now smeared all over your shirt. "mapi was right, i can't just take you back. i want to so badly, and i know that i love you, but i need to love someone else. i can't run back to you, jenni, i just can't."

"oh, okay," jenni said as she stood up. you sighed as you watched her flip the elevator switch again, despite you not really being done. you had more to say, but it was obvious in the way that jenni shook as she stood there that she was on the verge of breaking down. it wasn't your job to comfort her, so she wouldn't subject you to watching that.

she stopped the elevator at the next floor, which definitely wasn't hers. you watched her sprint away from you like she couldn't get away fast enough. you sighed as you stood up, waiting for the elevator to stop on your floor. when it did, you were met with ona and mapi standing there, waiting for you.

"hi guys," you said softly. you moved past them to get to your room to change your shirt, thankful that neither of them wanted to talk to you about it. they waited for you to get ready before the three of you left together, everybody else having gone out a little earlier.

"have you thought about where you want to sign to?" mapi asked. ona's head snapped over to look at you, and for a moment, you thought about strangling mapi in the middle of the busy street.

"no, i haven't," you hissed. ona cleared her throat, causing you to glance over towards her. "oni, i would have told you, bu-,"

"sign to arsenal, they want you. i think that you could really help them, and it'll be fun to play against you in the champion's league," ona told you. you were shocked that she wasn't begging you to come back to barcelona. you remembered the night you packed up your bags and left for germany, and the way that ona had sobbed on her knees begging you to stay.

"are you sure? ale said that barcelona would resign me," you told her.

"it's not the right time for you to come back to barcelona, not yet. who knows, maybe you'll find a cute girl in london. they go a little crazy for a spanish accent. i hear leila's having a lot of fun in manchester," ona teased. your cheeks burned with heat as you thought about what she was suggesting. mapi nudged you as well, obviously on board with this idea. "think about it, okay?"

"yeah, i will," you promised. in all honesty, you had thought about transferring to the wsl or even the nwsl. there were a couple of teams in america that had really wanted you, but there was no way that you'd ever run into jenni in england. she was too far away to excuse a casual visit, so maybe arsenal was just what you needed for closure.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #jenni hermoso imagine #jenni hermoso x reader

[magicpumpkin3]

May I request HCs of the Dorm Leaders (Separately) with a [S/O] [Gender Neutral] (Romantic) who can curse out in their native language whenever they get angry? Like in one scenario: [Y/N] got so fed up with the One-Brain Cell gang (First Years) that they willingly cursed out in their mother tongue to the group, giving them an earful of a lecture like an angry mother who found their kids caused trouble at school. How would they react to their partner who can speak in another language? (Examples: Korean, Russian, Spanish, etc.)

(Note: Scolding in any language is lethal.)

(Note 2: Ignore @//swiftyangx12)

- @sanctum-of-ramshackle

Note: *laughing in bilingual* Oh dear, It's going to be such a delight to write

Note: It took almost a year...Well, that was something -

Riddle Rosehearts

I see Riddle as a person that thinks, that curse words are forbidden and that no one should use them well, at least not around him.

So, let's just say, when reader cussed out because of the stupidity of the holy trio, I think it was for the best that no one had a single clue what the hell they were saying, because otherwise Riddle would've collared them.

So, let's Imagen a scenario, where Riddle found out what the bunch of gibberish words ment. He is soo not pleased, the dorm leader really thought that reader was better, then that. Of course there was some scolding and ect, but at the end of the day, he kind of get's it, it's Deuce, Ace and Grim after all. But that's still not an excuse!!!

He's also really interested in learning some basic words in readers native language. Even those cuss words sounded beautiful.

Leona Kingscholar

So, like Riddle, he has no fucking clue what you said. Well, he gets that it's probably something like cuss words but he's not quite sure.

Now, let's clarify that he gives zero shit if you cuss or not. Like, he gets it, shit happens, let's move on. And to be fair, I'll lie if I say I don't think he's the type to use cuss words in he's day to day life.

So, when you let all your anger flow in the middle of an overbolt fight, he's all in for it, even the overbolt kid was stunned by the nonsense you said.

Does Leona want to learn the language? Fuck yeah he does, it would make so much easier for him to cuss and make fun of other people, omG. Overall, he thinks that you're hella cool when you speak your native language.

Azul Ashengrotto

So, I don't think I need to say it again, he has no idea what you said, he has some suspensions but he's quite sure. Azul new that sometimes your brain just glitches and some words happen.

To be fair, I'm not sure how he feels about cuss words. I think he's okay when there's some used, but not like fuck fuckedy fuck fuck fuck.

So, when you started screaming at the trio, he thought it was one of those days when your brain farts some words. He haven't even thought those could be some inappropriate words. Twins on the other hand...oh yeah, they knew-

When he found out, Azul was quite impressed. He hadn't heard anyone curse so passionately, so boy couldn't even be mad at you properly!

As for the language, he finds it mesmerizing. Does he want to learn it? Oh hell yeah! It could be your secret language that only both of you could talk on~

Kalim Al Asim

First of, this is a child. But in all honesty, I think he dislikes cuss words, but not as passionately as Riddle. But still, don't swear around him plz

He is truly curious about you knowing another language, especially when you speak it! It sounds so beautiful coming from you, he is definitely into learning some words. Lemme tell you, the way he was staring at you, when you rained hell fires apun the idiot trio, was something.

Now, we all know that he had no idea what you said, but let's pretend someone told him God help that poor unfortunate soul

He is shocked to say the least, I think he would just froze up with this face 0_0, like. He doesn't blame you, but at the same time it feels wrong to him to hear you cuss in your native language.

Vil Schoenheit

Okay, I feel like he's kind of like an Azul when it comes to the adult language, doesn't mind it, but when it's too much he'll ask you to stop.

Now, you speaking 2 languages is interesting, but at the same time he knows it's semi-normal to be so fluent He has Rook by his side, like c'mon

He would love to learn your language, but I feel he'd actually just learn the basic set of words and of course speak without accent bc perfectionism

Vil is no idiot and he sees with whom you're dealing. He understands, no judgement, yell at them all you want, he will just watch and might trow some disapproval glance in their director, just so they could feel the fault.

Idia Shroud

First of, he's a fortnighter. He's a gamer for crying out loud, I bet when he's comfortable he swears at least once in 3 sentences. So yeah, you can swear all you want, he's not amused.

As for the language, he's quite fond of it. It sounds very majestic when you start to talk on it so to speak. He simp-. And let's be honest here, the fist words that he'll ask to learn are the cuss once, we all know it.

So when he heard you scolding the trio he makes a few mental notes 1)Ask for the translated version. 2) Don't get on your bad side 3) That was hot-. Idia is really amazed how good everything sounded, almost got hypnotized there.

He wants to learn the language not only because he can then swear around people and be unnoticed or at least around himself, but he also wants it to be a semi-secret language between you too, so you can talk about whatever you want without being afraid of someone ears dropping.

Malleus Draconia

Okay, so yet another child. It's like dealing with Kalim but this one is a bit sly. He understands that cuss words have their place in the world but Malleus doesn't feel the need to use them or at least around you.

Malleus has great interest in learning your other language, he thinks that's it's going to be your aristocratic language thing, which he also finds quite romantic.

When he overhead you cussing in your mother tongue at the trio he was amused. Malleus in all honesty found this hole situation hilarious and interesting.

And yes, even knowing cuss words in your language he will not use them just to make you a tab bit mad~

#twst #twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #twst x you #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x you #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader

[yuanology]

"I'm going to ruin you" With Al-Haitham? 👀 Any prns reader

alhaitham was a man who no doubt knew the weight of words. as the highly praised and acclaimed scribe of the academiya and current acting grand sage, a man like him would not be able to survive his line of work had he not understood the weight of words—had he not been able to wield such a capability to a point that it could build and destroy in one fell swoop.

so, you knew very well that the words alhaitham was using to rile you up—to boil your blood a thousand degrees higher and make your jaw tighten hard enough that you could feel the back of your skull ache at the pressure—were filled with intent. even if that had not given him away, his sharper-than-glass-shards eyes piercing through you now was a dead give away, so was the slightest quirk of the corner of his lips, smug and victorious. he wanted to see you tip over the edge, to pin him against the wall and fuck him hard enough that he couldn't breathe.

and who were you to deny this man, especially when his interests so beautifully aligned with yours?

his face met the flat surface of his own desk in his wide, open newly gifted office. there were no doors for the grand sage, a symbolism of transparency and honesty which was a load of bullshit, as alhaitham had proven in the past few weeks. even so, you had to admit that the set-up came with its own benefits.

you threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging at the root until you knew his scalp had to hurt. "i'm going to ruin you," you snarled against the shell of his ear, breath fanning against his skin. you could feel the way he shudders like a desperate whore under you, and you suppressed a groan of you own.

alhaitham managed a small chuckle, breathy and so fucking arrogant in spite of everything. "oh, really now?" there was still that damnable lilt in his voice; the one that appeared whenever things went precisely his way. "i'd like to see you try."

"don't watch me try, alhaitham." the grin that cut across your face was sharp, downright malicious. "watch me succeed."

after all, even a man as great as alhaitham could not withstand the feeling of drought for too long, especially not when the promise of salvation was dangled right before his eyes. with a hand wrapped around the base of his cock, you watched him writhe beautifully.

if alhaitham was good at riling you up, he was even better at begging you. it was a good thing that you were the best at denying him.

thank you so much anon for your support! <3 sorry it took me so long lol i hope you enjoy this all the same.

also as a psa, i'm a top male reader blog (with mostly non-gendered / only masc bodied readers, admittedly, my mistake) so yeah lol. no harm in the anyprns part though! just wanted to clarify some things :)

#i couldn't write shit for weeks and wrote this in like . fifteen minutes #what the fuck #sub alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #sub genshin #dom reader #top reader #( event. ) #( thirsts. )

[gretavanlace]

Poppins (part 5)

Josh/Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, slight angst, etc

Sleep doesn’t plan on dropping in to visit you tonight, that much is clear. Still, it doesn’t stop you from staring up at the ceiling, longing for it.

If you could just quiet the storm inside your head, if only for a moment or two, you might be able to drift away.

All hope is lost completely when your phone begins to vibrate on the night stand beside you. It crosses your mind to ignore it, but no one calls at this hour for no good reason.

With an exasperated sigh, you roll to your side and grab it up.

“Perfect.” You mutter upon seeing Jake’s name displayed on the screen. Yet another facet stepping up to complicate this shit show of a night even further.

“This better be good.” 3 am phone calls don’t lend themselves to a proper greeting in your book.

“Well, hello to you, too, pretty girl.” He laughs, clearly bright eyed and full of piss and vinegar.

“I’m sleeping, Jacob.” You huff, flopping onto your back once again.

He calls your bluff. Of course he does. “No you’re not. You sound wide awake, and I need someone to keep me company.”

“No pretty young thing to follow you home from your gig tonight?” You ask, though you certainly don’t actually want to know.

He makes a sound in the negative, and then adds, “But if I get really hard up, I can just pop my head out the door and flag down one of the hookers that are loitering around this shit hole of a motel.”

“That bad?”

“I’ll put it this way,” he breathes a wisp of a laugh, “If I were to look under the bed and find a dead body, I wouldn’t be shocked. Not even a little bit.”

“Yikes.” You genuinely feel for him. Hotels and their germs freak you out as it is, you can’t fathom being expected to sleep in an establishment as fine as the one he’s describing.

“Make sure you check for bed bugs before you go to sleep.” It breaks your heart to think of him slumbering fitfully while tiny monsters feast away.

“You think I’m going anywhere near that bed?” He sounds offended, but you know better. “I’m sleeping in the fucking bathtub. I wish you were here, though.”

“So, you’d have me suffer through a night in hotel hell just so you’d have someone to keep you company? Narcissist.”

That halting laugh of his, the one you’re completely smitten with, makes an appearance, but his reply comes gently. “No. There’s just something about the thought of seeing something so beautiful surrounded by all this ugliness…I don’t know.”

That, you hadn’t expected.

He glosses over his honesty and begins telling you about the bar he’s playing. About how it used to be a speakeasy. How there are still scattered bullet holes in the walls from a raid. Al Capone once visited, he tells you animatedly, and broke a bartender's nose for speaking without respect…

On and on he prattles, and you let him, paying close attention to his every word. This isn’t your first time being ‘Jaked’ in the middle of the night.

And if you’re being honest, maybe your attentiveness has more to do with the fact that you miss him already. It’s good to hear his voice, that calming, soft rasp. His idiosyncratic tendencies - ‘you know’ as a place filler as he gathers his thoughts, interesting, suppose, it’s all so jake, and it makes you feel safe in the strangest way.

You ask questions in all the right places, not enough to interrupt, but just enough to encourage the stream of thoughts he has decided to share with you.

That is, until he catches on. “Are we whispering because it’s late, or because you’re at my brother’s?”

You pluck at the blanket thrown over you, chagrined. A child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “He was out of sorts with you gone, so I stayed. You know how he gets.”

“I get that way, too.” He points out softly. “Who babies me?”

You shrug, though he can’t see you “A girl in every port?”

“Would you stop with that?” He suddenly sounds sad, and it’s so unlike him you’re shocked into momentary silence.

It stretches on for a while, with you now staring at the wall as the tree outside lends the shadows of its leaves to dance and flutter in the night. And Jake, cooped up in some depressing, filthy room god knows where, breathing in stagnant air and mold spores.

He slices through it first, “Hey, poppins?”

“Hmm?” How easily can make your heart ache and pound without effort. They both can.

“Do you miss me?”

The hopefulness in his query makes you smile. He sounds almost…vulnerable?

“I do, Jake. I always miss you when you go away.”

A discreet hum of satisfaction is his only reply before the quiet returns. Then…

“Why are you at my brother’s, babe? Is this a ‘when the cats away the mice will play’ situation?”

Why is he always so calm and collected? Tipping his hand just enough to stoke the flames of your curiosity. And why is it so sexy?

“Are you the cat?” You ask softly, avoiding his actual question.

He sees your bet and raises the stakes “Are you two the mice?”

Still unwilling to hand over your secrets, you ask a question of your own. “What is this? You both really do get off on the competition of it all, don’t you? Is there a scorecard hidden away somewhere? Because I —“

“Hey,” he soothes, voice comforting like a warm, much loved quilt. “There’s no scorecard. We actually have a scoreboard. It lights up and everything. Cost a shit load.”

He successfully tugs a giggle out of you, plucking the thorn out of your side effortlessly. Seconds later, however, you’re right back where you started.

“Why, then? Sometimes I feel like I’m caught in sibling rivalry crossfire. Like I’m constantly ducking and dodging Kiszka bullets.”

“No such thing.” He’s trying his best to lighten things up. “We Kiszkas are noble and peaceful people.”

He desperately would like to be let off the hook… instead, you keep him dangling on the line. “I’m serious.”

At last, he gives in. “Alright, alright. The thing is, you can’t really blame us. Sometimes it’s unavoidable and that’s just science.”

“Science.” You repeat, unimpressed.

“Yes. Science. Identical twins, such as myself and my lesser half, share nearly indistinguishable brain wave patterns, and —“

“Jesus, do you two carry around some big book of twin factoids everywhere you go?”

Brushing your flippancy aside without comment, he continues on. “So, shared brain waves and 99.9% identical DNA means we view the world around us in much the same way. That’s why you hear those crazy stories about separated twins finding each other later only to discover they’ve been living parallel lives. Essentially, we’re the same person.”

“Is this where I come in?” You ask, trying hard to conceal the fascination hiding behind your nonchalance.

“Possibly.” In your mind's eye, you picture his fingers running over his lips in a gentle pinching motion. An endearing habit of his when he’s feeling contemplative. “But, sometimes I think it has very little to do with all of that. Sometimes I think it’s just you.”

“Me?’

“You’re the lighthouse, poppins…” his voice is soft and thoughtful. “And he and I are the ships. Question is, who will run ashore first?”

“Something happened between Josh and I tonight.” You confess. “And I honestly don’t know why I’m telling you. I just felt like you should know.”

“Doesn’t that make you think?” He questions, backing you into an invisible corner.

“Doesn’t what make me think?”

“The fact that you felt the need to tell me. It’s interesting, isn’t it?”

You’re not sure what to say to that, so you choose the easiest path and say nothing at all.

“Jealousy isn’t a character flaw I struggle with. Never has been.” You listen to the creaking groan of the likely cheap and worn chair he is repositioning himself in. “Territorial? I’ll own that, but almost never with Josh. So you have your fun, love. Get him out of your system. You and I both know which ship your light shines a little brighter for.”

He ends the call with little room for argument on your part. You consider calling him back to tell him he’s wrong (is he wrong?). Instead, you slip out of bed and pad down the hall towards Josh’s room, light and hushed on your feet.

~

Josh is dreaming of you. Lost in turquoise waters that lull him deeper and deeper, down down down. You’re everywhere. Your voice, echoing and purring with the delicate current. He is tangled in your silken hair. It glows in otherworldly shades of bioluminescent purple and he longs to touch it, but each lock dissolves into blinding glitter the moment he reaches for it. Closer to the floor of your sea he drifts, as your soft moans grow louder, accompanied by the alien mournful song of whales calling to one another, his unconscious world shifts…

Now you lie beneath him, twisted in wrinkled sheets, clinging to him as he rocks into you deeply. Your nails sting as they bite into and drag across his back and he hopes it burns forever. He likes it better here. Bathing in your ocean was bliss, but here he can touch your face. Here he can search your eyes for their secrets and taste your skin. He can hear the desire thrumming in your hummingbird heart. Here you are his.

He always thinks you’re beautiful, but like this, you are celestial. A supernova captured in his arms.

You call his name, but your eyes are cast over his shoulder. He knows without question who has come to dismantle his perfect world.

“Tell him to go.”

You shake your head languidly with a Mona Lisa smile, “I’d like him to stay.”

Squeezing around him just right, you run your fingertip down the bridge of his nose…

…and he startles awake with a curse.

~

His door isn’t closed, but merely pushed to…still, you lift a loose fist to knock lightly. A faint moan in the dark stops you.

It’s a tranquil sound, one you might expect to enjoy while caught up in slow and easy early morning sex. And while it isn’t overtly obscene, it steals the air from your lungs all the same.

He’s sleeping, your eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough to know that, but he breathes another sigh into the air, and then…your name.

Can a sound be poetic? Can inflection be art? Because that is the only way to describe the way your name sounds on his tongue.

He’s dreaming…and whatever world he has faded into holds some version of you inside of it as well. What is going on inside that brilliant, beautiful mind of yours, Joshua?

This is wrong. You should go back to bed and pretend this never happened…but the angel on your shoulder has taken the night off, leaving the shameless devil in charge, plotting nefariously.

A harsh hiss of “Fuck!” bites out of him, startling you. He sounds frustrated and furious. He is awake, and very unhappy about it.

Standing still as a statue, you wonder ridiculously if he can hear the wild beat of your heart.

Knock now, you think. Pretend you’ve just arrived at his door. For the second time, you raise your hand to knock, and for the second time, you stop in your tracks when you see it.

His hand slips beneath the sheets as a shutter of pleasure ripples out of his chest. It’s no more than a strangled gasp, but your body explodes into heated pins and needles.

The drag of his fist against the linens keeps time with the airy moans he is panting into the night. It’s fucking intoxicating and you so badly want to go to him.

Instead, you back slowly away from the crack into the door, retreating further back in the hall. You’ll slink back to bed and it’ll be like this never even happened —

A floorboard creaks. An inanimate object groaning to tattle tale and shine a spotlight on your presence.

He stops instantly as you clamp your eyes shut tightly for a split second…if I can’t see you, you can’t see me mentality.

And while you pray with your whole soul to disappear like smoke in the air, he rises, tucks himself back into his sweats, and confidently closes the space between the two of you.

Before you can process, his fingers lace around your wrist and pull you into the room. Your body is pressed against the door, his breath warm on your neck as he reaches behind you to twist the lock.

A single finger traces along your cheek before tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. “Were you watching me?”

“I…” You stammer, guilty as sin. “I was just getting ready to knock and…”

His hand slides between your legs to tease his fingers over soaked cotton. “Oh,” he tilts his head, smug and pleased with his discovery. “Someone was enjoying the show. My sweet little thing has ruined her pretty panties.”

He finds your clit and presses against it, remaining still, taunting you with the delicious pressure of his touch. “Do you like to watch?”

You nod, the shame of being caught slowly seeping from your veins.

“Yeah?” He slips into your panties from the side and teases two fingers inside you, curling upward until your thighs are shaking. “You wanna watch me cum?”

A whine of desire trembles out of you, telling him all he needs to know.

His fucks his fingers into you just a hint faster. Building you up nice and easy, creating a heavenly push and pull that you never want to end. “Some other time, sweetheart. I’m far too in love with this soft little cunt of yours right now. Pink as cotton candy and just as sweet.”

Your hands are fisted into the shoulders of his worn out t shirt, steadying yourself as your hips rock to meet him.

“Jake called.” The words leave you as barely a whisper.

“Did he?” There is a conversational edge to his cadence. As though you might be discussing the weather while you clench and drip into the palm of his hand. “Missing you already?”

“I don’t know, he— oh, fuck…right there.”

“Right there?” You catch a glimpse of the cocky smirk playing over his lips in the dark. “I'll touch you right there, sweet girl. I’ll take care of you. Just relax and let me.”

Your back arches away from the door to bring your body nearer to his. You want him pressed against you, skin to skin. You want to melt into him and live there forever, surrounded by his warm light.

“You look so fucking pretty in this light.” The moon is filtering in through the window, cool and blue. You think of winter, and he mirrors your thoughts. “Like a snow angel.”

Your hand delves beneath his waistband of his tattered sweats. A chill races up his spine when you wrap your soft hand around him. “That’s it, sweetheart. Take what you want…good girl.”

You coil and quiver around his fingers, giving yourself away.

“You like that?” He nips his perfect teeth into your bottom lip. “You want to be my good girl? A perfect princess to make my cock hard and my heart ache?’

Tightening your grip, you stroke him faster, earning a groan, long and low, deep within his chest as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge with just his hand.

“Josh, please,” the air feels charged, the way it does just before a vicious summer storm unleashes. “I’m so close. Don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop,” he rocks into your hand a little faster to catch up with you. ‘Not until I have what’s mine. Let go for me. Show me how beautiful you look when you cum.”

With another practiced twist of his hand, he drags you under, free hand covering your mouth to quiet your cries, though he wishes he could let you scream until you were hoarse and spent.

He chases after you, burying his face in the crook of your neck to muffle his own cries as he spills over your hand, tiny rivers of warmth that tickle your skin until your eyes flutter closed to savor the feeling.

It’s peaceful for a stretch, but when the words come, you don’t swallow them down like maybe you should. You speak them into existence like maybe you shouldn’t.

“He says you’re in love with me.”

His lips ghost over your cheek, light as the softest feather. “I am.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @paleshadow-ofadragon @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordierama @calumspretty

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fic #greta van smut #gvf fic #jake gvf #josh kiszka #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka imagine #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka fanfiction #gvf smut #josh kiszka imagine #jake kiszka #gvf josh #fanfic #gvf jake

[the-delta-42]

The Truth 2

[1 The Truth] [2 Soul] [3 Through a Shattered Mirror] [4 Healing]

Soul

“You want me to do what?!” Demanded Felix, glaring at Ladybug.

“I want you to hand over you amok, so I can extract the feather.” Answered Ladybug, “I found a thing in the miraculous spell book that could turn amok feathers into souls.”

“That sounds safe.” Snarked Kagami, folding her arms and looking down at Ladybug and Felix, “What’ll happen if it goes wrong?”

“I dunno, it didn’t say.” Answered Ladybug, practically vibrating on the spot.

“Why me? Why not one of the other Amoks hanging around?” Demanded Felix, as Ladybug looked towards the corner, where Mayura’s Ladybug sentimonster sat teaching herself to read.

“Because they have the minds and attitudes of small children.” Answered Ladybug, “that, and I like you the least.”

Felix and Kagami stared at Ladybug.

“That’s nice.”

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you, Marinette?”

“Nope.”

Felix glanced at Kagami, before handing his ring over to Ladybug. The heroine almost immediately took the ring and started talking a mile-a-minute. Felix felt a burst of energy and had a tingly sensation run through him, as Ladybug curled the fingers of the hand not holding the ring and made and almost pulling motion. A dazed flash of light and a white Amok feather floated in the air. Ladybug wiggled her fingers and the feather turned into a ball of light, before Ladybug gently pushed the glowing ball into Felix’s chest. Felix felt the light lodge itself somewhere inside him, before the strange tingling had vanished.

“Hey, it worked!” Celebrated Ladybug, grinning.

“How do you know that?” Demanded Felix, before Ladybug pricked him, “Ow!”

Felix glared down at his hand, a small bead of blood welling on the finger tip.

“Amok’s don’t bleed.” Said Ladybug, before looking at Kagami, “You’re next.”

Kagami looked hesitant, before handing her ring over. Ladybug repeated the process, before planting the orb from Kagami’s ring into her chest. Kagami took the pin from Ladybug before she could prick her.

“I can do it myself.” Said Kagami jamming the pin deep into her finger, “Mother fuck-!”

S

Felix and Kagami watched Marinette try and wrangle the newly humanised senti’s ran around. Bubbler, now just called Bubba, ran around with Senti-Nino, while Senti-Bug kept trying to put stuff in her mouth.

“Guys, a little help?” Asked Marinette, getting a laugh from Kagami, “Seriously, I’m used to one or two, three at the most, but seriously!”

“I thought you planned on making them toddlers.” Remarked Felix, as Senti-Bug wandered up to Marinette, holding a Swan Lake DVD.

“Hmm, what is it?” Asked Marinette, wincing as she rubbed the middle of her chest, as the toddler pointed at the Princess and then to herself, “Huh?”

“Me.” Said Senti-Bug, looking up at Marinette.

“You want to be called Princess?” Asked Marinette, frowning when Senti-Bug shook her head, “Swan? Lake?”

Senti-Bug kept shaking her head, making Marinette sigh, “Odette?”

The toddler nodded, before clambering up Marinette’s leg, making Marinette scoop her into her arms. Odette sighed and curled into Marinette, as Bubba tripped and fell onto Senti-Nino, who then fell onto Senti-Alec, now simply called Al, who fell on Senti-Gabriel, now called Gabe, who hit his head on a chair. Soon, the four toddlers were bawling.

“Oh, great.” Groaned Marinette, as Odette looked at them and said “Fuck.”

S

Adrien stared at the toddlers, watching Gabe trying to eat a tie, he turned and looked at Felix, Kagami and Marinette, with Odette trying to fit a large piece of cantaloupe into her mouth.

“This happened because Marinette felt bad?” Asked Adrien, fiddling with the Graham de Vanily rings.

“In all honesty, I’m not sure why they’re toddlers.” Shrugged Felix, as Kagami bounced Bubba on her knee.

Adrien bent down and picked Gabe up and frowned, “When were they created?”

Marinette frowned, “Mayura created Ode a year and a half ago, and Gabe, Al, Ni and Bubba were made a year or less ago.”

The four all stared at the toddlers, before the penny dropped.

“Holy shit.”

S

Marinette winced as her parents looked at Odette, Sabine was giving Marinette a quizzical look, while Ode pulled on Tom’s moustache.

“So, you were…cloned and you thought we’d adopt her?” Asked Sabine, as Marinette winced.

“Okay, I know that it sounds weird,” Said Marinette, “but I didn’t get pregnant, hide it from you and had a baby, without anyone knowing because that’d be impossible.”

“I think it’d be a bit more believable that a botched cloning incident.” Said Sabine, frowning, “But, if that’s what you want to tell us.”

“Maman, she’s a year and a half old, I was fourteen-fifteen then,” Argued Marinette, folding her arms, “I wouldn’t’ve been able to hide something like that from you.”

Sabine hummed, before looking at Odette, “There isn’t a birth certificate is there?”

“No, but Adrien said he’d look into it, since, er, Ode wasn’t the only one made.”

“Marinette,” Asked Sabine, slowly, “how many are there?”

“Including Ode?” Responded Marinette, “Five?”

S

Marinette watched Nino interact with Bubba and Shelly, the former Nino senti-monster. The rest of the class were milling around the room, while Al and Gabe were playing with some building blocks.

“It’s amazing that they have their own individual personalities.” Said Adrien, as Marinette fiddled with the tome.

“Maybe it’s because they’re now free, independent beings.” Suggested Marinette, flipping a page, “Ooh, Tòuguò pòsuì de jìngzi. That sounds promising.”

No one noticed the light red haze around Marinette and Adrien.

“What does?” Asked Alya, as she and Nino walked over to them, letting Bubba and Shelly play with the others.

“Tòuguò pòsuì de jìngzi.” Said Adrien, as the haze enveloped Nino and Alya, “It’s a spell in the tome.”

“Are you sure you should be using magic, girl?” Asked Alya, “Since the state Monarch left you in.”

“Su Han’s already checked, all the damage is practically gone.” Said Marinette, just before the haze flashed and the four vanished.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #felix fathom #felix graham de vanily #kagami tsurugi #Sentimonsters #adrien agreste #sabine cheng #tom dupain #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #su han #delta writes #The Truth

[sylvanet]

Cold Nights, Warm Hands

I'm not the best at writing so my bad! But if you have any requests or smth let me know!!!! I fr need more genshin moots smh.

characters: Lee! Kaveh, Ler! Alhaitham

•Spoilers for the sumeru archon quest•

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

Kaveh sat outside his shared apartment, soaking wet and unable to enter. It was late at night, cold and raining. And for some ungodly reason, his roommate took both keys when leaving for a celebration.

It had been at least two hours of sulking outside alone before Kaveh felt the rain suddenly stop. Looking up, Kaveh saw his roommate holding an umbrella above them. A blank facial expression was placed upon Alhaitham, no smirking or remorse could be seen for the situation he put Kaveh through. Huffing, Kaveh turned his head away from his roommate.

Alhaitham raised an eyebrow before speaking,

"No comment? Now that's quite a shocker, I at least expected an earful"

When Alhaitham got no response from the other he sighed before opening the door,

"Come on, get in. You look like a wet dog"

Once the two entered the home, Kaveh immediately went to go sit on the floor and lean against the living room couch, not wanting to get it fully soaked.

Alhaitham set his bags down before looking over at the sopping wet creature that lives with him.

"You're going to get a cold you know"

"Hey..."

"Teyvat to Kaveh?"

With no response still, Alhaitham grumbled before leaving to go fetch something. When he arrived back Kaveh had his eyes closed with a pouting expression.

"Here,"

Alhaitham threw his roommate a towel and watched as it hit him right on the face.

Kaveh, making no move to do anything, just let the towel slide off his face before turning his back towards the scribe.

"You're such a baby,"

Alhaitham grumbled before walking over to pick up the fallen towel. Rolling his eyes, the scribe started to dry off Kaveh himself since no other move was being made.

While drying off Kaveh, the two continued to bask in painful silence....that is until Alhaitham moved the towel to dry his waist.

Squeaking, Kaveh quickly turned around before pushing Alhaitham away.

Alhaitham raised his eyebrow,

"Oh? Are you finally going to talk to me?"

Kaveh shook his head before looking away again, quite angry.

Alhaithem let out an amused huff before continuing to dry off his roommate, now totally not rubbing against some sensitive parts on purpose.

"Al-Alhaithem stop i'm dry now,"

"Well look who's talking, you know it was quite rude to leave me in slience like that,"

Kaveh pushed Alhaithem away again before growling,

"And it was quite rude for you to take both keys. Didn't you see the clouds outside before you left? It was obviously going to rain you shithead!"

In all honesty, Alhaithem didn't even think twice about checking the weather, he just wanted to go be with his acquaintances as fast as possible. Perhaps he did take the "prank" a bit too far, especially when it was Kaveh's first day back. But alas, it was still pretty funny to see Kaveh soaking like a wet puppy.

"I guess you're right, my bad. Here, let me make it up to you,"

"And how will you do that? You pretty much ruined my entire day," Kaveh snapped back.

"Oh, I think I know how to make your day better," Alhaithem smirked before caging Kaveh in his grasp.

"what the- AHAITHEM LET ME GO WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'REHEHAGAH DOJNG- WAIT NO"

Kaveh spasmed in Alhaithem's arms while the scribe began to run his fingers along the architect's ribs.

"Well...I'm making your day better of course, and people do say that laugher is the best of all medicines"

"BUHAHT I DON'T NEEHEHED MEDICINE"

Alhaithem smiled before moving his fingers to Kaveh's hollows, "Ah yes, but you were out in the cold for some time. And it's best to take precautions before anything happens."

Clamping his arms down, Kaveh squealed and began kicking his feet "NONONOHOH THIS DOSNET HELP AT ALL AHAHA"

"Well I think it is, just look, you're smiling. Just a few seconds ago your face was displeased and now you're full of mirth."

"THIS IS NOT MIRHTHHAH," Kaveh wheezed before squeezing out of his roommates grasp. Curling up in a ball besides him on the floor.

"Where do you think you're going? I'm not done yet, you know you did interrupt my reading for today. I think this would be a perfect time to enact revenge"

Althaithem scooted next to the flustered architect before attacking his unprotected hips. Drilling and squeezing both hard and soft all over.

"ACK- SHITTHITHT ALTHAITHEMAH"

Kaveh did his best to roll off his attacker but could do absolutely nothing. Why the fuck was a scribe so jacked? Fuck.

Kaveh was left writhing on the floor, laughing his ass off for about ten minutes before the wiggly fingers gave one final squeeze before stopping.

The scribe stood up and watched the poor architect let out some final giggles before wiping his tears away, still curled up as the sensations still lingered.

Once Kaveh semi recovered he noticed Alheitham start to leave, not even saying a single thing.

"You...you bastard you think you can just...leave after torturing me like that..?" He huffed before spreading out like a exhausted star fish.

To his surprise, a couple minutes later his roommate came back with a cup of warm tea and placed it near him,

"Wha-"

"For you, drink up. It's best you don't catch a cold, you could give it to me after all."

Kaveh grumbled before turning his face away from the man.

"Oh and don't worry about this months rent, your laughter was good enough payment for me."

Alhaithem smirked before walking away with his hands in his pocket.

Truly infuriating, Kaveh thought.

But at least he didn't need to owe rent for a month.

#genshin tickle #genshin impact tickling #genshin tickling #Lee!Kaveh #Ler!Alhaitham #Drabble #Genshin Fic #kavetham #Tickle Fic

[jomiddlemarch]

let’s call this a win-win

33 hours, 2009 miles, 27 Chicken McNuggets, 2 mint Oreo Blizzards, one ill-fated round of 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.

It was a fucking miracle the truck hadn’t broken down on the way.

“It was a fucking miracle the truck didn’t break down—” Joel said, pulling out Sarah’s floral quilted duffle bag first from the pile of luggage. The last few miles through the woods, he’d muttered his mother’s favorite prayer to St. Christopher and to Tommy’s mechanic friend Al. They were close enough to walk but that was not how he wanted to arrive, especially when he imagined what it would take to keep his daughter from a sugar-crash induced meltdown trudging through the forest.

“Dad! Language,” Sarah scolded, stretching out the a in Dad for maximum guilt-tripping. She had to uncross her arms to take the bag from him but she kept her cherry Chapsticked lips pursed. Despite his fatigue and the ache in his lower back from the crappy motel mattress, he couldn’t help grinning at her expression, her ribbon-tied pigtails, her carefully curated tank top and jean shorts.

“Put it on my tab,” he said. “The curse jar’s going to pay for your college and study abroad at this rate, not just those boots you want so badly.”

“I need those boots,” Sarah said.

“Save that for Uncle Tommy. He’s a soft touch,” Joel said. He took a look around the parking lot. Packed dirt overlaid with gravel, it was ringed by towering pine trees, the cabins of the camp hidden from view. There were a couple of non-descript sedans, a shiny black minivan with far too many bells and whistles, and two other pick-ups, both in better condition than his. No vanity plates though, which he took as a good sign. He got the rest of their bags out and slung his guitar case over his back. He’d been told to head to the main lodge to meet the camp’s director but a woman was already walking towards them, so he nodded to Sarah to stay put.

“Welcome to Camp Firefly. I’m Meghan Williams, the camp nurse, it’s nice to meet you.” She extended her hand to shake and Joel was relieved that her grasp was warm and properly firm but not intended to suggest she’d break anything. She wore drab cargo pants and hiking boots, her dark hair tied back and covered with a red bandana, and had a sturdy, reliable calmness about her that offset her relative slightness. She was not much bigger than Sarah, who was tall for her age, but who had, after all, just turned eleven two weeks ago.

“Likewise,” Joel said. “My name’s Joel Miller, I’m working maintenance, and this is my daughter, Sarah, she’s in bunk 3.”

“That’s great—my niece Ellie’s also in bunk 3. It’s her first summer here, maybe you can show her the ropes, Sarah,” Meghan said.

“It’s my first summer here too, but I’ve been at sleepaway before,” Sarah said, honesty warring with the self-importance that she used to offset her anxiety, a state she had been in approximately 80% of the time since she turned 11. “I went to Girl Scout sleepaway last year for two weeks. They had a lake there too.”

“You’re a veteran then. You can make sure she doesn’t set anything on fire when you make s’mores. Ellie’s a menace in the kitchen, God help us all when she’s got access to a campfire,” Meghan replied, smiling warmly. Her expression shifted to rueful when she turned back to face Joel. “Maintenance, huh? Marlene didn’t let you know?”

“Camp director Marlene? Let me know what?” Joel said. He and Marlene weren’t close, it was Tommy who had suggested to her Joel might work over the summer with Sarah going for free as part of the payment, but Joel didn’t see how she could’ve hired someone else and not told him before he’d driven halfway across the country with his little girl. Still, shittier things had happened and he started planning what he’d say to Sarah because he and her mom sure as hell couldn’t pay for her to go to the camp on their own and he couldn’t expect to land a job in the Middle of Nowhere, New Hampshire overnight. The higher rate for her mom’s gig as a travel nurse was going toward keeping her Grandma Denise in her apartment, money Joel didn’t begrudge his ex. They’d had an amicable enough split and they kept it that way by not bitching at each other about their finances or new relationships, not that Joel had much happening in either category.

“You’re not working maintenance. Or, not just maintenance. Gary, the guy who was supposed to be the woodshop counselor, backed out at the last minute, so Marlene’s kind of drafted you to take over. She said you worked construction, so you can help the kids make whatever they make in woodshop,” Meghan explained. Joel must have looked somewhere between blank and dubious. He felt that way. “On the plus side, you were going to share a cabin with Gary, so now you have the place to yourself. I heard he was a slob, but that might have been something someone said to make you feel like you’re coming out further ahead, since Marlene didn’t mention she’d be paying you more and she’s basically a card on the table kind of person, so I wouldn’t bet on a bigger paycheck, just the extra space.”

“That’s it?” Joel said. 

He wasn’t even sure himself what he was questioning—the extra work, the extra space, Marlene basically deputizing a stranger to tell him and avoiding his justifiable anger.

“For now. I think. Though you’ll probably get asked to play your guitar if you’re good enough to bring your own with you for the summer,” Meghan said. “No lessons, just campfire songs, folk songs, a little bit country, a little rock n’ roll—”

“No show tunes,” Joel interrupted. He liked this Meghan, her humor and her easiness with Sarah, her lack of vanity evident in the cargo pants, her sense of whimsy in the red bandana. Still, it was possible what he’d intended as banter had come out as gruff, shutting her down instead of picking up where she left off. “It’s just—”

“I get it. A man has to draw the line somewhere,” Meghan said. “Bunk 3 isn’t too far, I could show you the way there if you’ve got all your stuff. Sarah can meet Ellie and wait for the other girls to get in,” Meghan said.

Joel nodded and Sarah nearly bounced in agreement. They walked quietly through the woods, Sarah rendered speechless either by the intense greenness of the forest or the imminent meeting with Ellie and any other campers who’d arrived. Meghan didn’t appear to feel a need to fill up the time with small talk, though she did point out the path that led down to the dock and the sharply peaked roof of the main lodge. There was a clearing that showed the lake, laid out like a mirror, the pines and the cloudless sky redoubled, a pair of red kayaks making a cheerful splash of color on the distant shore. Sarah glanced at him, her eyes wide, and Joel smiled at her. This was why he’d driven cross-country in the truck that had seen far, far better days, why he was going to spend the summer dealing with rotting floorboards and teaching kids to make what, maybe some birdhouses, and whatever else Marlene decided he was going to do, probably dish up in the kitchen and if Meghan was right, lead the singalongs. They’d been at Camp Firefly for under an hour and it was already worth it.

“That’s the main campfire site,” Meghan said, pointing to a sizable ring of smoke-stained stones surrounded by grass matted down by hundreds of campers. There were a few white Adirondack chairs clustered together and a low, broad slab of rock Joel would pick to sit on if he had the guitar on his lap. “I’ll be sure to spread the word—no show tunes!”

“You’re not going to play ‘Hernando’s Hideaway?’ That’s your favorite,” Sarah said, blowing his cover. He shrugged and Meghan chuckled. 

“My favorite’s ‘Make Believe,’ but ‘Hernando’s’ a close second,” Joel said. 

“Gaylord Ravenal in the flesh,” Meghan said, winning some real points. Secret points because otherwise he’d have to admit how much he liked Broadway musicals. The next step would be disclosing that he’d always wanted to try out for the lead in the high school show but had been too busy at his after-school job that helped pay the family’s electric bill to be able to swing it.

“I can hold my own with his part. But I make a mean Magnolia Hawks,” Joel said.

“We’ve only got a lake, not a river. But it’s a big one,” Meghan said. 

“Dad, are you going to talk here all day?” Sarah said, this time stretching out all day long enough to make him shake his head and Meghan roll her eyes in amused commiseration.

“That’s Bunk 3,” Meghan said, gesturing over to an unremarkable log cabin that somehow managed to suggest a certain cheery impishness. That might have been the little face in the window, brown braids topped with a blue bandana fashioned into sort of a headband. “And that, as you may have guessed, is Ellie, holding down the fort. Sarah, why don’t you head in? Your counselor should be along in a bit. I’ll make sure your dad doesn’t get lost on the way to his cabin.” 

“Okay, yeah, Love you, Dad, bye!” Sarah said, making a beeline to the cabin’s front door and opening it after the briefest pause.

“I don’t need you to walk me to the cabin,” Joel said once they were standing there alone, the moment of watching the Bunk 3 door closing having past, leaving them as two adults just awkwardly near each other. At least, he felt awkward, laden down with bags, his lower back twinging again, suddenly unable to keep the frustration with Marlene from his expression, all out of small talk, not that he ever had much. He probably sounded rude to Meghan, he’d been rude to her, dismissive, especially when he didn’t exactly know the way to the cabin he and Gary had been assigned, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize.

“It’s on my way,” Meghan said. “And quite frankly, you don’t know where the hell you’re going so you do need me to walk you there. I’ll let Marlene know you’re settling in and you’d like a word with her before dinner. It’s at 6.”

She started walking, her boots’ tread audible on the leafmeal in the absence of any conversation, and Joel followed her. She was right after all. 

“I owe you an apology,” Joel finally managed to say. He looked her straight in the eye, there was that. Hers were a greyish green, darker than he’d thought when he’d first looked at her.

“No, you don’t. And I’ve never had one owed that was any good,” she said. “Relax. You didn’t offend me, not really, and I work in healthcare, I’m used to people mouthing off when they’re stressed. That’s before you add in dealing with my niece 24/7.”

“Don’t you get to be the fun auntie? She still gives you a hard time?” Joel asked. Sarah and Tommy got along like a house afire, as the saying went, largely because Tommy had never once said no to her and also never came to the Joel’s place without a bag of gummi bears that Sarah didn’t have to share with anyone. And a Barbie. He’d thought she’d tell him to stop when she turned 11, but she’d opened up Olympic Gymnast Barbie with the same degree of excited greed she’d brought to every other doll, secured more tightly in the pink box than whatever the hell they kept in Fort Knox these days. 

“I’m not the fun auntie, I’m all she’s got,” Meghan said. “I was 17 when my sister died when Ellie was a baby, her dad was never in the picture, it got really complicated for a while with the state, and you didn’t ask to hear any of this. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Joel said. “I get complicated. Plus, now we’re even—we both tried to apologize and neither one of us would accept it.”

“I guess that’s good,” Meghan said. “That’s your cabin, right there,” she added, pointing to a small building nestled right up against a pair of pines. 

“Good enough,” Joel said. 

#tlou au #the last of us #summer camp au #joel miller/ofc #sarah miller #ellie williams #nearly everyone lives #fluffy as heck #just dropped our oldest off at college #so any every love coming my way would be appreciated #pedro pascal fanfiction #I've started the second chapter from Meghan's POV

[mlmxreader]

Music In The Air | Rodolfo Parra x m!reader

@guardkeywolf asked: "It's four in the morning. Fuck off and go to sleep."

Rudy X Male Reader where Rudy, Alejandro, and Male Reader all have a sleepover (bc why not) and the Male reader has to listen to his boyfriend and bestie sing California Girls or you can pick the song

summary: it’s not often that you, Alejandro and Rodolfo are able to see each other for an extended period of time, but when you do, it’s always something to remember. 

tws: alcohol consumption, drunkenness, swearing, smoking

In all honesty, you did love it when Alejandro came to visit you and Rodolfo while you had some downtime at home; you loved to sit back with him and your boyfriend and to have a good damn time, even if you all knew that it wouldn’t last long. Hearing them talk about their old neighbourhood, about where they grew up and the things that they missed about when they were younger whilst you drank and sang and danced in the kitchen until the early hours of the morning. Sitting back and relaxing, only to get up when a certain song played, one that you all wanted to dance to; you knew, if you were at base and the one four one were nearby, then by around midnight, Price would have banged on the door and demanded that you calm yourselves down and that you turn the volume of the music down. You were thankful that the neighbours you and Rodolfo had were alright, and that they understood that it wasn’t a regular occurrence - it was just a little reunion between friends who very rarely saw one another… or at least, you and Alejandro rarely saw one another. Between what he and Rodolfo were doing for work, and between your employment on the HMS Raleigh, you hardly ever saw one another.

Tonight was one of those nights when Alejandro had come to visit, and although the night had started out with the usual music that you often listened to - Sabaton, Rammstein, Sodom, Slayer, Cannibal Corpse, Lorna Shore, among others - somewhere along the lines, someone had changed it to that fucking awful Katy Perry song; with you sat on Rodolfo’s lap, your arm around his neck and your hand lazily resting just below his shoulder, you groaned, and pressed your forehead to his temple as he sang loudly. Alejandro was dancing as he held his drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other, which only made it worse, as while he could sing, he could also belt out a song when he really, really wanted to; it was inescapable, and you groaned loudly as you checked your phone to see what the time was, rolling your eyes when you saw. 

“Sippin' gin and juice, laying underneath the palm trees,” Alejandro sang as if his life was depending on it. “The boys break their necks, tryna creep a little sneak peek - you could travel the world, but nothing comes close to the golden coast, once you party with us, you'll be falling in love!”

“California girls We're unforgettable, Daisy Dukes, Bikinis on top, sun-kissed skin so hot, we'll melt your popsicle,” Rodolfo joined in, grinning from ear to ear. “California girls, we're undeniable, fine, fresh, fierce, we got it on lock, West Coast represent, now put your hands up!”

You couldn’t stomach any more of that fucking song, you needed it to end before you threw the fucking speaker out of the window; why he couldn’t have chosen something decent, maybe ‘Back To War’ by Sodom, or even ‘B.Y.O.B.’ by System Of A Down, you couldn’t say. 

“Ale!” You shouted over the music, even more difficult when you were trying not to laugh. “It’s four in the morning. Fuck off and go to sleep!”

He laughed, downing his drink before he gently set the glass on the side and approached you and Rodolfo, a grin on his lips and his features burning slightly red as he cleared his throat, his words slightly slurred as they left his mouth, “I will fuck off and go to sleep, when you and Rudy marry, pendejo.”

You grumbled, shaking your head as you dared to reach your hand up and gently card it through Rodolfo’s hair at the back of his head. “You’re gonna be waiting a while - now fuck off to bed.”

“My apologies, Commodore,” he giggled. “I didn’t realise I was being ordered around.” 

“Rudy,” you grumbled. “Tell him.”

Rodolfo cleared his throat, but made no move to get you off of his lap as he looked at Alejandro, doing his best not to smile. “You heard him, Ale - c’mon, it’s getting late, amigo.”

Although he ranked higher, and although he wasn’t keen on being told what to do while he was drunk, Alejandro really was about ready for bed, so he finished his cigarette, chucked it in the ashtray, and made his way to the spare bedroom so he could go lie down for a few hours; all alone, you grabbed Rodolfo’s phone, unlocked it and went to his music library. 

“What’re you in the mood for?”

He shrugged, telling you to put on whatever you wanted, and although he had expected something along the lines of trash or heavy metal, he was pleasantly surprised when you put on Frank Sinatra; the sounds of ‘Fly Me To The Moon (In Other Words)’ filling the room as you got off of his lap, and grinned at him. 

“Remember this one?” You asked, pulling him up to his feet. One hand on his waist, the other still firmly clasping his. 

Rodolfo nodded as he smiled back, putting his hand on your shoulder and letting you lead him. “Of course, mi corazón, como podría olvidarlo? Our first dance together.”

You hummed along, leading him around as you gently moved with the song; but it wasn’t until the chorus started that you couldn’t help but to sing, “fill my heart with song, let me sing for ever more, you are all I long for, all I worship and adore.”

“In other words: please, be true,” Rodolfo whispered, unable to bite back his grin as he pressed his forehead against yours. “In other words, in other words: I love you.”

You let go of his waist, bringing your hand up so that you could gently cup his jaw, laughing softly as you dared to steal a quick kiss. “I love you.”

“Maybe he’s right, corazón,” Rodolfo said quietly, softly, his words mixing and mingling with your breaths where you were so close. “Maybe we should hurry up and get married.”

“Maybe,” you mused. “It’d be nice to hear you call me your husband and, for once, to not have to clarify we’re not actually married yet, but…”

“But?”

“But I can’t get the time off work,” you admitted softly, shaking your head. “I s’pose I could talk to the Rear Admiral and see what he says, but that won’t be until next month.”

“I can wait a month to find out,” Rodolfo admitted. “I’d wait a thousand years if you asked me to… mi corazón es tu corazón, you know that.”

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don’t wanna reblog, then you’ll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM.

#mlem writes #rodolfo parra x reader #rodolfo parra x you #rodolfo parra imagine #rodolfo parra #rodolfo x reader #rodolfo mw2 #mw2 rudy #rudy mw2 #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #cod imagine #cod fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod fic #cod fluff #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod mw ii #cod mw2 fanfiction #cod mw2 imagine #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #call of duty x y/n #call of duty imagine #call of duty fic #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #call of duty mwii

[willshipanything-blog]

Breaking the Rules- Chapter 12

If you're a fan of Max Shaw, I have some good news...

Omg this chapter was just so fun to write, it's a complete ball of fluff and cute family moments. If that ain't your thing, there's smut and angst just around the corner next chapter!

As always, minors DNI, full tags on AO3 where the fic is also posted here

Full Chapter Index here

Enjoy lovelies! 💜✨✌️

Chapter 12- Past Lives

In your enervated state, your mind could barely process a single intelligible thought, a blurred montage of the previous night. A movie reel projecting into your mind, fleeting images and memories and sensations. Just remnants, scraps of recollections now, but each frame that illuminated behind closed eyelids transmitted something so vivid and visceral. A hint of cedar and sweat pervading your nostrils. A sudden remembrance of a bolt burning through you- the memory of every goddamn nerve ending in your body being zapped. A rush of sounds: a breathy grunt; a keening whimper, a low chuckle. A flash of cerulean blue as he brought you back into the light, back to the comforting ocean of his eyes before you drowned in the pleasure.

Blinking awake, you packed away those hazy film reels in your mind. You could rewatch those moments of pleasure anytime, the way Al had run laps around your spent body, the way his tongue had run laps…. no, Y/N. You needed to focus on a different aspect of your devilish rogue right now. Address your Al problem before it became a neverending carousel of distraction to cloud doubt, distraction and doubt, distraction and doubt.

Al had his trained evasiveness, his pretty words meant to misdirect, his sleight of hand that played convincing tricks on your body, but you saw beyond the backdrop now. Last night’s distraction hadn’t been totally unwanted, but as much as you enjoyed playing magician’s assistant in his carnal production, it was time for the curtain to drop. No more encores. 

The smoke had dissipated, the mirrors smashed, and you surfaced the morning after with fresh lucidity, a plan already half-forming in your mind. Rebuilding those structures which had crumbled to forgotten ruins under Al’s magic hands last night. You needed to compartmentalize your feelings; sequester those lustful desires and bring those almost-certain doubts and burning questions to the forefront of your mind. It wouldn’t be so hard, stowing away one set of feelings to allow another to come into sole focus. It was, after all, a skill you’d had plenty of practice at- your own parlor trick originating from your time in the Grabber’s captivity. 

And once those questions were on your tongue, you’d spill them, come right out and just ask about that fucking house. You needed a straight answer. The beckoning tree, wrapped in brittle deadwood, practically begging you to question what lay behind those four walls. The grime-encrusted windows daring you to wipe away the filth to peek inside. The potential of accusing him of a lie- well, to hell with delicacy. Al had hardly been subtle with his amorous diversions last night, so why should you skirt around the issue? If he wasn’t forthcoming with any lies he was still holding close to his chest, you’d just have to wheedle them out of him. You expected honesty these days. You deserved it. Al had partly delivered on that promise, too- recounting the harrowing aspects of his childhood, facing what he’d done as the Grabber instead of denying those actions. A little more honesty might not be so big a push. 

The only real difficulty might be finding a free moment alone: with Max still at the house, you couldn’t dare mention anything for fear of being overheard, and you didn’t want to cause any more tension with Max there, not after you’d already caused an uncomfortable friction at the dinner table the other night. Mentioning the house at all had only led to some obvious feelings of resentment (on Al’s part), regret (coming from Max) and disappointment, for both the Shaw brothers. 

But it might not be long til Max moved out, you supposed- he was looking at apartments after all. You figured you could carry the weight of it on your shoulders a little while- the worry about what Al was hiding, the guilt of falsely accusing him, the heavy peach pit in your stomach at the thought of another combative confrontation that could end up hurting the both of you. It would only be a little while longer. As pervading and intrusive as those swirling doubts in your head were, you wondered how much of a mental toil they’d take on you. It might amount to Atlas carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for eternity- because to you, Al was your universe entirely. 

You’d slept in, your sated body needing the recuperation, so had missed Al leaving by an hour or so. When you finally trundled out of bed around nine and shuffled into the kitchen, you found Max hunched over the kitchen table. He looked disheveled but energetic as he simultaneously shoveled down scrambled eggs and pored over a pile of papers beside him. His creased Hawaiian shirt he’d worn yesterday (with the buttons now fastened one notch off), and the purple crescents under his eyes suggested Max hadn’t yet been to bed. You discerned you might have been partaking in similar activities last night, though Max hadn’t yet benefited from a good night’s sleep.

“Morning Max.”

“Shit! You scared me, Scout,” Max gasped through a mouthful of eggs. 

“I was hardly creeping. Besides, I thought you were staying with a friend last night?” you teased. Max rolled his eyes at your emphasis on friend, clearly ignoring the knowing smirk creeping across your face at the implication of what ‘staying over’ meant. 

“Ah, I’m not really the staying type now, am I?” he gave a sideways half-smile, though the spirited glint in his brown eyes wasn’t quite there when he spoke. You wondered whether his comment was pertinent to just last night, or his erratic behavior as a whole, resistant (or unable) to stay in one place too long, whether that be a place- or a relationship. Before you’d had a chance to begin unraveling that thread, Max had reverted to his usual ebullient self, slamming his hands on the table with fervor.

“Anyway! I got back so late it was practically early, and the mail had come! And guess what?” he asked, his voice not dissimilar from Al’s singsong warble. He waved around one of the sheets of paper he’d been studying in hint, exhaling a playful scoff as you smiled and shrugged, as if you should have been able to predict what it said. “The paperwork all came through. I’m moving this weekend!”

And just like that, in that one fortuitous sentence, your timeline shifted. You only had to wait a few days until you were able to ask those questions that were pressing against your mind, a splitting headache of confusion and doubt. That worry would only fester beneath the surface for a little while longer. Once Max was gone, you could peel back the dressing on that wound and attend to it in the privacy you and Al were soon to share. Yes, just a few short days to enjoy the familial warmth of a full house before it would just be a home for you and Al again (and a time, you thought, when confrontation and questions would be more apt). Al had been the cause of your last distraction, and now it was Max’s turn to take your attention away from your anxieties. After that? You’d have to see your plan through, take the plunge and ask. But for now, you privately welcomed the distraction Max had unknowingly created.

The sudden domestic development, and everything that needed doing, would allow you to forget those troubles. There’d be packing, cleaning, making lists for the brothers to buy furniture and household items for Max’s new place, scouring thrift stores and outlets for things Max would need. You couldn’t go yourself to help, but you could oversee plans from the living room couch easily enough. Although, the thought of what garish furniture Max might buy without supervision did worry you somewhat. In any case, you would allow the excitement and bustle which would occupy the next couple days to overtake the worry.

As predicted, the days rushed by, a blitz of cardboard boxes and packing tape, final signatures on paperwork and, through all the excited anticipation, just a hint of something coming to an end. It wasn’t like Max was saying his final goodbyes- he was leaving the house, not your lives, after all. But you made sure to cook all of Max’s favorite foods in those last few days: pork chops, mac and cheese, peach cobbler. If he was reminded of what he’d be missing out on, he’d be sure to come back for dinner often, which he promised without hesitation. 

On Saturday morning, Max got back from picking up his new keys, his precious cherry-red vintage Firesweep pulling up with a shrill screech outside the house just as Al was loading the last of his brother’s belongings into his van. Al had insisted he didn’t need help with the boxes and pieces of furniture, perhaps sensing your hesitancy around the van. You had only been in it once, and the memory of that day- you being taken, that rancid taste in your mouth, being beaten into unconsciousness by the Grabber- were not triggers you needed today. Not any day at all, really. Instead, you busied yourself trying to tire Samson out, playing tug of war with his favorite rope toy- only to realize how outmatched by the dog’s strength you were. You’d ended up aching and sweaty before you’d even started helping with the move.

“As always, Max, your timing is impeccable. Just missed out on the heavy lifting.” Al said dryly, slamming shut the double doors of the van as Max came bounding up the driveway. 

“Aww, I did? That’s a damn shame,” Max retorted, doing a downright terrible job of hiding his mirth. “Well, if we’re all packed and ready, shall we head out? Scout, you wanna ride with me and Sammy? You know I got better music!” Too excited to wait for an answer, he sprang back down to his car, Samson barking at his heels. 

You looked to Al, your eyes involuntarily flashing to the van for the briefest moment, drawn towards the bright blue and green insignia emblazoned on matte black. Abracadabra- Entertainment and Supplies. The memory of that first day threatened to emerge. Al distanced himself from the vehicle, his quick strides towards you bringing your eyes back to pinpoint on him.

“Hey, dove, you go ahead, hm? I’ll see you both at the house.” His voice was husky yet tender, those soothing tones you knew were reserved only for you. That black-clad magician, the top-hatted monster who had taken you that day, lured you in with a false trick, dragged you into the back of that van- he was as long-forgotten as those basement depths in which you no longer dwelled. You smiled softly at his earnest intentions and Al gave an assenting nod along with a final, teasing warning to try not to get killed going too fast, or pulled over by the cops. Turning to head to the car, you (only half-seriously) wondered which would be the worse of those two outcomes. Your smile dimmed just a little at the thought.

You ran the last few yards down the driveway, Max honking his horn with childish impatience to get to his new place. Even Samsom looked excited, already panting and drooling in the backseat, his giant head poking out of a window Max had half-rolled down. You’d barely slid onto the front bench seat beside Max before a riotous cacophony of sound and smell began. A sputtering engine, revving tires, a blast of thick smoke from the tailpipe and a resounding bark from the backseat, and the car peeled away from the curb, leaving Al and the van in the rearview mirror. You relaxed into the worn leather. Or at least, you relaxed as well as you could, considering Max had never installed seatbelts in the old model sedan. The blasting riffs of Led Zeppelin allowed your final few disquieting thoughts to fade away, as if you’d left them at the curb outside Al’s house. 

You looked towards Max, where he was trying to sing along whilst also humming the guitar parts and playing an invisible drum set on the steering wheel (all while driving, of course!), noting how his loose bowling shirt matched his precious Firesweep. Bright red, with a wide black collar. It reminded you of Al’s magician get-up, though the scarlet and black were inverted. Like how similar yet at odds the Shaw brothers often seemed to be- either very much alike or the others’ antithesis, never in the middle. Al the more quiet, gruff of the two, with an outwardly jaded personality at odds with the zealous energy that emerged when he was comfortable. And Max with his vibrant, warm extraversion, which shrouded a darkness underneath that most people would never suspect. It recalled the unease at the dinner table the other night, about the strain on the brothers’ relationship after Max had left, the younger brother’s guilt for those actions. But those regrets were long forgotten in this perfect moment, the wind whipping your hair with wild abandon and the sun beating down on your bare skin, the pounding music reverberating through your blood. The next song started, blasting Free’s ‘All Right Now’ on the radio- it felt like things really were. 

As Max pulled up outside his new house, Al was already waiting, leaned against the side of the van with his arms crossed against his chest. You discerned his mild annoyance even beneath those thick, red-brick colored sunglasses, although instead of greasepaint, an unimpressed expression was painted across his face. He’d not started unpacking the boxes, but the rear van doors were open, an invitation for Max to hopefully help a little more than he had earlier that morning. You figured the huff he gave was more from the heat than irritation, confirmed to you when Al blew air from the corner of his mouth to try and cool himself and wiped the back of his palm against his glistening brow. 

“And I thought speeding got people places quicker.” he said sardonically as he strolled along the sidewalk to the car as it pulled up with a final splutter of smoke.

“We stopped for gas!” Max explained, stepping out and leaning over the top of the car roof to speak to his brother. 

“And we got sodas too!” you chimed in as Al opened the passenger side door for you. You peeled yourself away from the hot leather seat, your ice-cold cola almost empty. 

“Here,” Max said, reaching to pass Al a cold bottle over the top of the car before guzzling down a glug of his own grape soda. “Scout said Sprite was your favorite.” You gave a sly smile as Al’s head snapped your way. You slunk away to let Samson out of the hot car, hearing Al chuckle softly before he popped the cap.

It was a small house, consisting of a living and kitchen area, bisected by an elevated breakfast bar that almost served to split the open plan space into two areas. A door from the living room led to the bedroom and attached bath, and another small back room with a washer dryer led out into a decent backyard- no flowers or trees, but plenty of grass and dirt for the dog to dig up (one thing Al definitely wouldn’t miss about his brother’s departure). Samson sniffed out each corner of the house with a judgemental nose, and once satisfied, busied himself digging in the small lawn out back, making his own personal renovations to the house. Whilst Al and Max began assembling the bed and wardrobe (not very successfully if the bickering was anything to go by), you took charge of unpacking the half dozen cardboard boxes in the main room. 

The first box you opened contained clothes, a flurry of garish colors- Max’s bold Hawaiian shirts. You set it aside ready to hang up later, if the wardrobe ever got assembled. You weren’t sure how to feel about the sudden whirr of an electric drill in the adjoining room. Grateful if Al was speeding things up; worried if Max was wielding power tools. The next box had a few kitchen items Max had bought in the week. You quickly put away the mismatched crockery, cutlery, pots and pans in the buttercup-yellow kitchen cupboards. Another box had soft furnishings and smaller furniture items: a cheerful afghan blanket you threw over the worn, second hand leather couch; a hideous ochre glass lamp you half-wished had smashed during the move; a few avocado-green couch cushions that clashed wonderfully with the orange shag carpet. You had to admit, the hodgepodge aesthetic of the decor had a certain Maxly charm about it, and you beamed at the eclectic space as you began flattening the now-empty cardboard boxes.

Or almost empty. You nearly missed it entirely, but a rustle as you picked up a seemingly empty box had you reaching in for a wadded envelope you hadn’t spotted earlier. You couldn’t help but open the yellowed envelope, your curiosity piqued at the possible contents. Lifting back the flap, you found a pile of photographs, perhaps a dozen or so. Different sizes and saturations (a mix of black and white, sepia and vivid color) suggested Max had collected and kept a select few over the years.  

They seemed to be ordered chronologically, a whole lifetime encapsulated in just a few sheets of paper and ink. Kneeling on the floor, you began to flick through them. 

A family portrait in shades of black and gray. On the right hand side of the image sat Max’s mother, holding her youngest son and smiling softly at the camera. Standing beside her, though still a head shorter than her, was Al. His hand reached out beside him to sit atop his mother’s, which itself was laid on Max’s pudgy leg. You might have convinced yourself the three of them were happy, though Al wore no smile and his large eyes of lightest gray looked solemn, boring into the lens as if in a silent plea. It grieved you to think that this boy, not even ten years old, had already known pains others could never comprehend. From whom that pain originated was clear: Max had torn the left hand side of the photo, ripping away any trace of who had stood there, as if attempting to cleave that demon from his life. No guesses for who used to occupy the nonexistent space, where only a ripped line now stood beside the family of three. You shuffled the picture to the back of the stack.

The next photo was familiar to you, Al having a larger copy of it on a side table in his own living room. It was the monochrome picture of the two brothers, Al still unsmiling (what had changed for him, except more years of abuse?) and Max, whose wide grin showed a kid still full of hope and innocence. A kid whose older brother played protector, affording Max a smile where Al couldn’t muster the same. You quickly shoved that to the back of the stack, happy to find there were no more photographs from Max’s childhood in his collection. 

You were lurched forward in time as more recent photos appeared, saturating your eyes with bright, bold colors as the decades ticked along. Max in his 20s, clean shaven and almost unrecognizable without his signature mustache, but that impossibly wide grin difficult to miss. Sitting amidst a group of people crowded round a small table in some dive bar. Long hair framed his face, like Al’s but jet-black, with a leather jacket to match. 

A little older now, a decade on you supposed. A small, square polaroid that someone had taken inside an old RV, somewhat bleached of color. Max was wearing a pastel shirt and wide flared jeans- not quite the vivid wardrobe he’d yet to adopt. He’d started to grow in his mustache though, the peach fuzz sitting just above his lips which clamped around a joint. His closed smile still broadcast a deep dimple on one of his cheeks, easy to spot even on the small, sun-flecked photo. He looked vivacious, happy- probably thanks in no small part to the pretty blond in heart shaped sunglasses sat beside him, slinging her long legs over Max’s lap, his hand roaming casually up her bare thigh. You smiled and shook your head in amusement before flicking again through the stack of photos.

Max looked close to his current age in the last in the stack. Probably only a few years old. This was corroborated by the state of the photo: unmarked by sun damage or tearing, though you discerned several smudged thumb marks along its border, like it had been handled frequently. It was a dark image, snapped around a campfire that seemed to crackle and spit as you held the paper in your hand, so vivid the oranges and golds that flecked from it. The two figures in the photo were illuminated by the flames, Max and another man of a similar lanky build, though the stranger was a little taller as they sat beside one another. Like Max, the unknown man also had a thick caterpillar mustache and dark sideburns, though his crinkled white shirt was at odds with Max’s tropical print. He was playing the guitar, but his lips stayed in a strange, lopsided smile- either humming along or playing a wordless song to the stars that dotted the backdrop of the photograph. Max was looking at the other man like an adoring fan, his chocolate-brown eyes shining in the firelight. Not smiling for a camera, but his teeth were bared in a candid smile. The picture emanated a serene, joyous aura. 

Snapshots from a dozen different cameras, each lens transmitting a dozen different lives. It was like you hardly knew Max at all, only glimpsing a small fragment of the whole. But you knew him now, in the current life he was creating. He had wanted to come back, to see his brother- and you too. It was a commitment he’d never braved before- he’d even gotten himself clean to make a real second go of Denver. And for his efforts, he’d been rewarded with a renewed relationship with Al, and a whole new friendship with you. A job too- and his own place! He was happy, you were positive- though it was hard to tell when Max was ever unhappy. He rarely wasn’t  smiling, always ready to showcase his pearly whites and impressive dimples, for a photograph or otherwise. And yet, a small voice inside you relentlessly questioned whether Max missed any of those previous lives. 

You knew Max had been traveling, on the move constantly with no fixed address. From what Al had suggested, you thought Max had been lonely and lost- yet some of those photos belied that narrative. Each photograph seemed like an alternate reality of what might have been had Max made different choices. Questions led to different possibilities, winding through labyrinthine tunnels, each question leading to a dozen new answers. What if Max hadn’t left? What if he’d have fallen in love and never come back? Had he ever been in love? What if he’d gotten cleaner sooner, or never fallen into that awful habit? You realized the futility of this logic- these were questions that only he could answer, a maze that only he could traverse. Right now, this life was the center of the maze, his final destination. Unless he decided to leave again, find a new path, whether it led somewhere new entirely or a complete dead end…

No, Max had decided to stay. Like you. Sticking close to Al, and now to you, which felt important- he was your best friend, after all. By default, technically (because who else but Al could you really trust to keep your dark secrets?), but that didn’t lessen the bond between you both. Still, a small part of you wondered whether you were both settling, staying put from some unuttered duty to Al. You, because you loved him. Because you wanted to protect him, even if that meant a life of secrecy: closed doors; drawn curtains; shuttered minds. And Max? You hoped he wasn’t merely staying out of some warped sense of repayment, some belated compensation given to Al for the years spent away from their hometown. His leaving was just a response to his own childhood- not a malicious act against his brother. It felt so much like he truly wanted this. So then why did you picture Max like a butterfly with its wings affixed to a spreading board? Pinned down, its sheen dimming day by day as it remained trapped in the same spot forever. 

Not wholly convinced one way or the other, you collated the pictures into a neat pile and placed them conspicuously on the kitchen counter, hoping Max might at least frame some of those memories. A reminder of the past. Or at least, the better parts of his past he’d cherished, cataloged through those dozen precious photographs. Even if he could never capture those moments again, they’d be forever printed in his mind. 

“Did ya look through those, Scout?” You gasped as you swiveled towards the sound, startled by the sudden interruption of your inner thoughts. Max merely sniggered. “Hey, I was hardly creeping.” he chuckled, echoing back your words from the other morning. His breeziness suggested the photos weren’t some shameful secret, and it eased your mind, having been worried he wanted to keep that envelope sealed and private. 

“Yeah, I had a peek. Hope that’s alright?”

“Oh, sure! Really oughta get some of those framed now I actually have walls of my own, huh?”

“That’d look lovely, Max. I can tell these are special to you.”

“Yeah. They are.” A truly sincere tone. Perhaps even a little melancholy. 

Max sauntered over to the breakfast bar, sitting in one of the second hand diner-style stools to look at the pictures. You hopped up onto the leather-padded stool beside him. The Shaw family portrait (minus one piece of shit father) lay on top of the pile, and Max fingered the ripped, jagged edge and smiled, seemingly happy to have cleaved that evil from the young family that sat beside it. With his soft smile and big brown eyes looking wistfully at the black and gray picture, he mirrored his mother in the photograph. He riffled through the rest, his expression fluctuating between shades of happiness and yearning, his rich brown eyes aglow as he thumbed his way down memory lane. He paused at the final picture in the pile, rubbing a thumb along the edge, adding another smudge to the fingerprint border of the campfire photo. 

“I think you’re missing something Max.”

He bristled, a flurry of murmurs tripping over his tongue as he tried to answer too quickly. “Whah- missing? No, it’s not like-” 

“Oh! No, I mean you have a picture missing. You haven’t got one with me!”

Max’s ears reddened at the confusion and he let out an embarrassed laugh. “Heh, of course. Knew what you meant! You’re right though, would be nice to have another family photo,” A family photo. You swallowed the sudden knot that had bloomed in your throat, eyes widening to try and stem the tears you felt bubbling behind them. “But I don’t have a camera right now.”

“We do! Al brought his in the van- it should be on the front seat if you wanna-”

Before you could say ‘grab it’, Max had leaped up from the stool with a clatter, heading out the front door just as Al emerged from the bedroom. Al gave an incredulous laugh. 

“At least one of us is breakin’ a sweat.” he huffed.

“C’mere,” You beckoned him with a finger and he obeyed, coming to stand between your thighs. “We’re getting a photo taken and you need to look your best, Mr Shaw.” On the stool, you sat high enough to straighten Al’s collar and tousle his ashy locks. He just smiled down at you with that wolfish sideways grin, hands resting on your thighs as you neatened him up. Once he thought you’d fussed enough over him, he hoisted you off the stool with a dramatic lift, eliciting a startled whoop from you. 

Max raced back into the house in a frenzy, and it took several minutes of him trying his best to organize how the photo was to be taken. Al stood around rolling his eyes with his arms crossed until you gave him an admonishing glare, after which he at least pretended to look more enthused. In the end, you knelt down beside Samson (he was family too!), with Al squatting behind you, his hand curling around your waist instinctively. Max dipped beside his brother as you took the photo. 

“Ok, we’ve got one shot so please don’t blink!” At least wasting reams of film previously had made you pretty handy with angling the camera just so. Max counted down from three, and as you snapped the button, a wetness along your cheek told you Samson picked the worst possible time to lick you, right as the flash went off. Not that Max minded- as he shook the developing photo, urging it to saturate quicker, he squealed as the picture slowly crept into life on the paper. Samson pouncing on you, your expression frozen between joy and alarm, half-wincing as his rough tongue daubed your cheek. Max, to nobody’s surprise, wore his wide grin, his dimples digging deep in his cheeks. Al had a smaller, more content smile, though he wasn’t looking at the camera. Those blue eyes were centered solely on you. You hadn’t noticed as you were taking the snapshot that Al and Max both had an arm around the other’s shoulder, and you wondered whether that brotherly gesture was as instinctive for Al as the arm resting on your hip in the photograph. You thought so. 

It seemed to you, as you looked down at the picture cupped in Max’s hand, this perfect, preserved memory, that all of you were happy. 

Al was happy. His life had been so short of moments like this, relationships this strong. But those around him weren’t going to hurt him, and because of that, he could shed that icy exterior, that hard shell created from hurt and hatred. He had bloomed into a man so far removed from the evil that had previously possessed him. You were happy- since you’d been taken, you’d never felt this full, this loved, in so many ways. You had someone you loved deeply, more deeply than you could almost bear at times, after you thought that an impossibility. You had gained a family when your other one had been torn asunder, forever lost to you. You were content too, even with those tragic separations and the still-present questions eddying around your head. 

Max was happy- you thought. You just prayed, out of all of the lives he’d lived, he was happy with this one. 

Max had found it strange to say goodbye to his brother and Y/N. Not because he and Scout had hugged tightly, which was pretty standard these days. Not because even Al had shared a brief hug with a farewell of ‘See ya, Maxie’ as they closed the door behind them. 

No, Max felt strange just saying goodbye at all. It’s not like he wasn’t going to see them again (even as he’d waved them off, he’d been invited over for dinner tomorrow, and he wasn’t about to pass up free lasagna), but the words felt strange in his mouth, like the rancid taste of orange juice after brushing your teeth.  

Goodbyes were an unfamiliar exchange; he’d normally hit the road without all the finality of that. To him, leaving wasn’t some important life decision. When you’d left places as much as Max had, it didn’t feel like such a big deal. Except for the first time, of course. He’d left on that fateful day, his brother already at work, his mother giving a small wave from her armchair as he slipped out the door with his duffel bag- going to a friend’s, he’d said. He never saw his mom again. That had torn at his insides for years, the first fuck-up of thousands in the decades that followed. 

He wondered if that’s why he was staying now. The guilt of leaving when he was young, which he almost didn’t dare to imagine a second time around. He was still a kid back then, but a kid who should have known better than to break his mom’s heart when everyone in that house was still reeling from the fallout of their father’s actions. Only the other night had Al talked about how sick she’d gotten, reminding Max of how he’d found out all too late. No forwarding address or telephone line could be freeing, but the loss of that tether had shattered him entirely when he turned up on the doorstep months after her passing. A belated eulogy to an empty armchair felt too pathetic, and he couldn’t bring himself to summon up a goodbye before slamming closed the door again. 

Max grimaced, hating the dark places that those thoughts could take him, and tried to focus on the present. Looking through the dusty front window, he saw his brother and Scout still on the sidewalk, pressed close together and seemingly talking besides the van door. He turned and flopped onto the couch, Samson jumping up before curling beside him. He could barely believe what he’d achieved since moving back to Denver: a real job that he liked well enough, furniture that was his own, food in the refrigerator. Hell, a whole fucking house! Even if right now it felt strange to have so much space, like some crazy reverse claustrophobia or something, he figured. Jesus. What was wrong with him, that he couldn’t simply be grateful for all of this?

Here, Max wouldn’t have to scrounge together dollar bills for another hit, wouldn’t wonder if he’d be able to afford a dingy hotel room for a couple of nights. He’d vowed never to get so desperate again to rent some company for the night. With his own place, he even had the ability to make a real connection with someone again, and not have it ripped to shreds by his own inadequacies and reckless habits. The few of those he’d had in his life….

That thought got Max rising, walking to the counter where the pile of photographs lay. He looked longingly at a couple in particular, almost drifting away to the warm memory of a few of those snapshots (backseat hickeys and campfire kisses came to mind), before he picked up the newest print in the pile. This was his present, his now. Here, with Al, with Scout, and Samson too. 

There was still something noticeably ‘off’ about their situation, but they’d been through shit same as him, and neither of them had done things as dangerous, stupid and illegal as Max had in the years since his shitty trauma had forced him to flee. They were good for him- and he hoped he could be good for them too, that they could come to him if they ever needed help or advice or just someone who would listen to their worries. 

But right now, things were good. Just fine. Peachy. So then why, as soon as they both left through the front door, had the smile on his face faded like an aged photograph?

#the grabber #the grabber x reader #the black phone #black phone fanfic #albert shaw x reader #albert shaw #the grabber x you

[quietwingsinthesky]

which character do you most relate to (any fandom)?

oh, that’s a hard one, if only because opening it up to any fandom makes it so broad lol. uhm. give me the grace of putting down a few instead of just one, yeah?

since i did just replay it, i’d be remiss not to mention chloe price of life is strange. perhaps not quite as much anymore, but there’s a lot of her that was in me when i was younger. you know, queer and hurt and never able to figure out what to say, how to say it, without it coming out wrong and pushing people away, without that being used as a reason to police my words and actions harder as if that would fix me. and she wants it to be someone’s fault, anyone’s fault, that the world has taken a shit on her, and she needs it to be someone else, too, because otherwise everyone must be right and it was her fault all along. when really, it wasn’t anyone’s. number one chloe price defender because i Get her.

i think probably anyone who has followed me a bit would probably guess out of any supernatural character, it’d be sam, right? and. i mean, you wouldn’t be wrong generally, i do get a lot of his shit. but not the most out of any of them. and it’s not castiel either, though him & me autism4autism. it’s dean. i mean, why do you think i’m so scathing about his actions? why do you think i feel the need to turn over his worst parts in my head over and over and over again. sometimes you gotta look in the mirror even when it’s ugly in its honesty, because the way you recognize that you’re getting too close to a perfect reflection is memorizing what you see in there. and there’s a lot of dean i find relatable in a light way, too, because he is an annoying shit of an older brother, he filters all his interactions through the lens of relevant pop culture, can’t shut up to save his life and at the same time can’t seem to make his brain connect to his mouth to come up with anything cool or clever to say half the time. but a lot of what he does, and more importantly, how he can justify those actions to himself through it being out of protection, out of love. well. there’s an awful selfish catharsis to the actions he takes and to the lengths the world around him will contort itself to prove him right. i cannot look away.

and also i think im like pinkie pie because i love my friends so so much and i love baking and i want everyone to be happy. and id fuck weird al.

#ask

[disneyanddisneyships]

@gyubby99 I have too much time on my hands

I'm evil. And I love angst.

This has not been proofread.

Alastor sat in his office.....

Vox, Valentino, and Linda had visited him earlier confronting him about his affairs to fuck up his chances of popularity with a new studio.

Vox found out about him and Linda.....

In the eye of a hurricane There is quiet For just a moment A yellow sky

Alastor sat at his desk, letters from Aponi in his hand and a blank paper in front of him.

Vox would use his knowledge to destroy everything Alastor had built.

When I was seventeen a hurricane Destroyed my town I didn't drown I couldn't seem to die

"Al?" Husk asked as he walked into the office.

"I used to live in New Orleans. I remmeber a hurricane that happened. It had destroyed everything I held dear but somehow I lived through it," Alastor stated to his friend.

"Uh.... Vox told everyone at his bar.... about... you and the overlord Linda.... it's not long until the word gets out to all of hell.... Aponi is one of the most loved dancers second to angel.. people won't take kindly to what you did," Husk explained as he scanned all of alastor's liquor bottles.

I wrote my way out Wrote everything down far as I could see I wrote my way out I looked up and the town had its eyes on me

"Back then I wrote my way out of everything.. spoke my way out of everything," Alastor continued as if he didn't hear Husk.

"Al.... Judith is gonna find out if you don't do anything about the rumors.. I mean they're not true... right?" Husk asked.

They passed a plate around Total strangers Moved to kindness by my story Raised enough for me to book passage on a Ship that was New York bound

Alastor chuckled. "In life people belived I was so kind... they were evolved to kindness by the story of my abusive father.... they raised enough to help build me my own radio studio," Alastor explained with a genuine smile.

"You... you cheated on Aponi?" Husk asked in disbelief.

I wrote my way out of hell I wrote my way to revolution I was louder than the crack in the bell I wrote Eliza love letters until she fell I wrote about The Constitution and defended it well And in the face of ignorance and resistance I wrote financial systems into existence And when my prayers to God were met with indifference I picked up a pen, I wrote my own deliverance

"I'll talk way out of hell, I'll talk my way out of this. I'll be louder than a crack in a bell. I spoke to Lilly with such love that she fell. I spoke about the demons and defended them well. And in the face of ignorance I'll pick up my microphone and I'll speak my own deliverance," alastor ranted as he looked to the button that broadcasted his voice to all of hell.

In the eye of a hurricane There is quiet For just a moment A yellow sky

"Do you hear that, Husker?" Alastor asked.

"Hear what?"

"The quiet before a storm," Alastor replied.

I was twelve when my mother died She was holding me We were sick and she was holding me I couldn't seem to die

"I was young when my mother died. She was holding me, she was suck and she was soothing me.... all I wanted was to die," Alastor muttered.

Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it (I'll write my way out) Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it (write everything down, far as I can see) Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it, wait (history has its eyes on you) I'll write my way out Overwhelm them with honesty This is the eye of the hurricane, this is the only Way I can protect my legacy Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it, wait

Alastor looked toward his microphone.

"Alastor.... wait.. think this through.. don't go rushing into things like this, it won't end well," Husk spoke.

Alastor turned on the microphone.

The Reynolds Pamphlet

"Hello Demons! I'd like to tell you a little bit about something I'll call, the Davis Pamphlet!" Alastor exclaimed into the mic.

Have you read this? Alexander Hamilton had a torrid affair And he wrote it down right there Highlights!

"Are you hearing this?" Valentino asked Vox as they listened to Alastor broadcast his affair to everyone in hell.

"Highlights!" Vox exclaimed as he smirked.

The charge against me Is a connection with one For purposes of Improper speculation My real crime is an amorous connection with his wife For a considerable time With his knowing consent Damn!

"Hello demons! The charge against me Is a connection with one Linda Davis, for purposes of Improperspeculation! My real crime is an amorous connection with her for a considerable time!" Alastor spoke.

"Damn!" Vox shouted with a laugh.

"I had frequent meetings with her Most of them at my own house."

"I made frequent meetings with her, most of them at the hotel in my girlfriend and I's room," Alastor spoke.

At his own house? At his own house! Damn!

"In their own room?" Valentino asked with a wide smile.

"In their own room!" Vox replied.

"Damn!" Valentino exclaimed.

"Mrs. Hamilton with our children being absent On a visit to her father."

"My significant other being absent On a visit with her friends!" Alastor continued.

No…

Aponi's eyes widened from her dance studio as she covered her mouth in horror. "No...." she muttered.

Boooo!

In the city, everyone booed the radio demon.

Have you read this? Well, he's never gon' be President now Never gon' be President now Well, he's never gon' be President now Never gon' be President now He's never gon' be President now Never gon' be President now That's one less thing to worry about That's one less thing to worry about

Vox and Valentino ran out into the city to gossip with every other demon.

"He'll never get the funds he needs for his studio now!" Valentino laughed.

I came as soon as I heard

Angel dust barged into Alastor's studio.

"I came as soon as I heard," Angel stated.

Angelica

"Angel dust!" Alastor exclaimed as he turned off the microphone.

All the way from London?! Damn

"You're ditchin Val?" Husk asked in suprise.

Angelica, thank God Someone who understands what I'm struggling here to do

"Oh angel, thank God a demon who understands what I'm struggling to do!" Alastor exclaimed as he walked up to angel and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Angel shrugged him off.

I'm not here for you Oooooh!

"I ain't here for you!" Angel spat.

Alastor's eyes widened in shock.

I know my sister like I know my own mind You will never find anyone as trusting or as kind I love my sister more than anything in this life I will choose her happiness over mine every time Put what we had aside I'm standing at her side You could never be satisfied God, I hope you're satisfied

"I know Aponi like I know my own mind! Youll neva find anyone as trustin or as kind! I love 'poni more than anything in this death! I will choose her happiness ova mine everything! Put our friendship aside, I'm standing at her side! Youll never be satisfied, God I hope ya satisfied!" Angel shouted before turning and slamming the door to head over to the dance studio where Aponi was.

He's never gon' be President now (Never gon' be President now) He's never gon' be President now (Never gon' be President now) He's never gon' be President now (Never gon' be President now) That's one less thing to worry about (That's one less thing to worry about)

Alastor's eyebrows knitted together before he walked out of his studio, just following behind to see how many people were gossiping in the streets.

"I ain't fundin his new studio. One less thing to worry about for me," a demon spoke.

Have you read this? You ever see somebody ruin their own life? His poor wife

"You ever see someone ruin his own death?" Valentino asked as they walked passed Alastor.

"Poor Aponi. Hope she doesn't set fire to anytniiiing," Vox spoke with a smirk as he looked back at alastor slyly.

Alastor's eyes widened as he realized what he did.

He took off running back to the hotel only to stop in the doorway to see Angel dust explaining what was happening gently to Judith.

Angel glared at alastor before he pointed to Aponi's room and ushered Judith outside.

Alastor walked upstairs and opened the door to see the bed sheets stripped off of the bed, and Aponi sitting by her fireplace with a wooden box that seemed to be full of letters.

"Darling?" Alastor asked.

I saved every letter you wrote me From the moment I read them I knew you were mine You said you were mine I thought you were mine

"I saved every letter you wrote me...... when I had read them I thought you were mine.... you said you were mine," Aponi muttered as she looked at a photo of her and alastor together.

"Lilly...." Alastor sighed.

Do you know what Angelica said When we saw your first letter arrive? She said, "Be careful with that one, love. He will do what it takes to survive."

"You wanna know what Angie said when your first letter arrived? He said 'be careful with that one hon, he doesn't care whether you die or survive,'" Aponi scoffed as she glared at the photo in her hand.

Alastor stood there like a deer in headlights.

You and your words flooded my senses Your sentences left me defenseless You built me palaces out of paragraphs You built cathedrals

Aponi laughed as a tear roled down her cheek. "Your words melted my heart.... you built me palaces out of paragraphs...." Aponi smiled gently before her eyes grew angrier.

I'm re-reading the letters you wrote me I'm searching and scanning for answers In every line For some kind of sign And when you were mine The world seemed to burn, burn

Aponi picked up a letter from the box that was next to her and began to skim over the words written on it.

"I'm searching and scanning for answers. For some kind of sign.... when you were mine the world seemed to burn....." she muttered as she threw the letter into the flame, her eyes glowing a bright shade of red.

"Lilly no-"

You published the letters she wrote you You told the whole world how you brought This girl into our bed In clearing your name, you have ruined our lives

Aponi turned around sharply, looking straight at alastor.

"You told all of hell that you brought this girl into our bed!" Aponi yelled as she gestured to the sheets that she had taken off of the bed.. "You've ruined our lives!"

Do you know what Angelica said When she read what you'd done? She said, "You've married an Icarus. He has flown too close to the sun."

"Lilly, darling, i-"

"Do you know what Angel dust said?! When he heard what you had done?!" Aponi yelled. "He said that I've made a family with an icarus and that you've flown too close to the sun!" She shouted as she picked up the old sheets and threw them into the fire.

You and your words, obsessed with your legacy... Your sentences border on senseless And you are paranoid in every paragraph How they perceive you You, you, you…

As the sheets burned, Aponi turned to alastor once again, fire in her eyes.

"You're so obsessed with your radio studio! Your mind borders on senseless! And you are paranoid in every paragraph!" She shouted as she turned back to the letters and threw them into the fire one by one.

"How they perceive you!" She muttered before throwing in more letters. "You.. you, YOU," she stated as tears ran down her face and she threw the entire box into the fire.

Aponi collapsed onto the ground as she watched the flames grow for a few minutes before they got dimmer as they finished burning everything that was thrown in.

Alastor stood in the dark of the room, looking down in disappointment in himself.

I'm erasing myself from the narrative Let future historians wonder How Eliza reacted when you broke her heart You have torn it all apart I'm watching it burn Watching it burn

After some silence Aponi spoke up. "I'm erasing myself from your narrative," she mumbled.

"What?" Alastor asked.

"Let the demons in hell wonder how Aponi reacted when you broke her heart. You've torn it all apart and I'll watch it all burn," Aponi explained as she stood up.

She took the choker off that Alastor had gifted her, massaging her neck with her hand before clutching the peice in her hand and turning to him.

The world has no right to my heart The world has no place in our bed They don't get to know what I said I'm burning the memories Burning the letters that might have redeemed you

"Hell has no right to my heart! She shouted as she threw the choker at him. "Hell has no right in our bed! Go sleep at Linda's instead! I've burned all the memories that might have redeemed you!" She yelled.

"Lilly please!" Alastor begged as he held out his hand to her.

You forfeit all rights to my heart You forfeit the place in our bed You'll sleep in your office instead With only the memories Of when you were mine I hope that you burn

"You have no more rights to my heart! You have no more rights to our bed! You'll never see Judith again! You'll be stuck with the memories of when you were mine!" Aponi shouted.

"No! Please, you can't keep me away from Judith! Lillian, please!" Alastor begged as he kneeled to her, practically praying for forgiveness from Aponi.

"I hope that you burn," Aponi stated before walking out of the room and slamming the door behind her.

[whatwouldvalerydo]

❤️💚 Part 6/9💚❤️

Scarlett burries her feelings deep and refuses to deal with her pain. When Phil himself cannot reach her, he calls for an intervention.

Characters mentioned here belong to the amazing group that is @flareshogwarts @kc-and-co @lifeofkaze @the-al-chemist

Her social media blew up in an instant, Scarlett making videos, posting stories and pictures of her across London in all sorts of clubs and pubs. He tried to ignore it, he really did, but he had his phone set to receive notifications whenever she posted and it was ringing or vibrating like crazy. Initially he set them off, but would eventually still go on her social media in order to see what she was up to.

And he didn’t like it one bit.

Grabbing his coat, Phil finally decided enough was enough. He needed to find her and have a talk with her. Because he felt it was off and worse of it, she was more than likely drunk each night, partying until ungodly hours only to sleep through the entire day just to wake up and do it all over again.

Getting out of the cab, his eyes scanned the long line of people waiting to get in, finally managing to pin point her in the crowd of people “Scarlett, there you are.” Getting closer, some people already started protesting, telling him to go at the back of the line.

“Oh shove it!” she slurred, eyes as if barely adjusting in order to see his face clearly. She felt his hand on her waist, pulling her to him, Scarlett pushing him away “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

“No.” she protested, pulling away even more.

She was definitely not good, eyes hazy and red, a lost stare directed at him. He could smell the alcohol on her breath, Scarlett clearly already drunk before even hitting the bar “Please listen to me, you’re drunk, you can’t be here. When was the last time you properly slept?” she rolled her eyes, wobbling on her feet “Talk to me, tell me what happened.”

Pointing a finger at him, she almost lost her footing, Phil catching her “I’ll tell you what didn’t happen.” Hitting her chest with a closed fists, she glared at him, fury coursing through her veins, managing to clear the fog in her mind for a minute “I didn’t grow a heart, I didn’t find answers, I found nothing. I didn’t care then and I don’t now. Not about my family, myself, you. So go, get, I don’t need you here. I never needed you. I don’t need anyone.”

“Don’t…don’t say that.” His voice broke down slightly. A part of him knew she was drunk and maybe he shouldn’t have let her words get to him, but then again people were far more honest when in that state. Right? “Let me get you out of here.”

“No. Let me drink, let me numb myself. I don’t want to feel.” Tears stung her eyes, Scarlett furiously wiping away at her eyes, smudging her makeup “We fucked a few times, so what? You think that’s going to magically make me want you? That I’ll be a good girl, be your girlfriend? Fuck you Baker.” Turning around, she bumped into a bouncer “Excuse you.”

“Is he bothering you?”

“He doesn’t want to let me have fun that’s for sure.”

Phil’s eyes went wide when the bouncer stepped forward, his hands going up “Wow, no, wait. She’s drunk, you shouldn’t really be letting her in at all. Scarlett.”

“Take one more step and you’ll be sorry.” The bouncer warned.

Warning that in all honesty he should have listened to. Because maybe then he wouldn’t have been regretting leaving the house at night. He wouldn’t have gone home mad, hurt and knowing how bad a punch to the face hurt. Searching in the freezer for a bag of vegetables, he wrapped it in a kitchen towel, placing it against his cheek.

Taking out his phone he dialed a number, almost ready to close the call after a few rings. It was four in the morning after all. A very groggy Nova picked up “Someone better be dead.” She mumbled yawning. Phil remained quiet, not knowing where to start from exactly. He heard her shifting in bed, Nova’s voice now filled with concern “Please tell me no one died. Phil are you still there?”

“Yeah” he sighed, wincing slightly as he pressed the frozen bag harder against his skin “sorry for calling at this hour but I don’t know what else to do. Scarlett needs help and I don’t know how to help her, she won’t let me.”

“Tell me everything.”

Late afternoon, Nova stepped on London soil, closing a call with Dana who told her she would arrive the following morning. Saffron already received the letter, her on the train towards London as well. Calling Scarlett, she picked up after a few tries. She played it casually, telling her to meet up since she had some business in the city that day and could only stay the night, not giving her any options to set another date or say no.

“Need a place to stay overnight?” Scarlett asked, Nova of course saying yes. It was even better than meeting her out at a bar or something and having her run off because she couldn’t take what she was about to say. Sending a text with the address to Saff for when she had a signal and to Dana as well, she got in a cab and went straight to Scarlett.

She wanted to try and ease into it, but when she arrived Scarlett was already drinking, so if they stayed and spent the first hours like that, it wouldn’t be too good. The apartment looked decent enough, but the kitchen had an assortment of empty bottles that Scarlett just didn’t bother with taking out “Did you have a party?”

“Neah, I don’t brink strangers here. I go to them if I want to party. Drink?”

“Sure.” It wasn’t to drag it on, but she knew Scarlett was stubborn enough to make this hard enough.

“So what are you doing here?” she asked handing her the drink, both walking to sit in the living room.

“Look” she started after taking a sip “I’m not going to sugarcoat any of this, I’m here because I’m worried about you. If you want to tell me what happened fine, if not, you have Dana and Saff coming in soon so your choice. What is happening to you?”

Scarlett scoffed, taking another sip from her drink before Nova took it from her hand “What the fuck?”

“You’ll get it back when you start talking, but honestly with the amount of parties you’ve been to lately I’m surprised you still have a liver.” Placing the glass down gently, she placed a hand on Scarlett’s arm “That bad?” She just nodded once, not saying anything after that “Give me something Scarlett.”

“Why? Do you think you can actually help? Trust me you can’t, no one can and talking about it, letting it out made it worse.” Pulling away from Nova’s touch, she got up, pacing the living room “Facing it, actually understanding everything that happened when I was young, it’s shit. It doesn’t make me a better person, it makes me worse. It makes me just like my fath…” the word chocked in her throat, Scarlett covering her mouth, shutting her eyes in horror as she let it sink in “Oh my God she was right, I do have his anger. Everything I hated about him, his violent nature, his hate, his drunken state, I’m him. I turned into him.”

Nova got up, placing her hands on her shoulders to stop her from spiraling. Phil told her last night just what he knew, but it still wasn’t enough to understand everything, but it was what was needed to know her friend didn’t have the easiest of lives.

“Do you want to tell me everything so we can pick it apart and show you you’re not like him?”

Scarlett shook her head “No, if I’m going to talk about it, I’m going to talk about it once and that’s it.”

Hugging her, Nova promised her the girls were on their way and they would all listen. When Saff arrived, Nova briefed her, but she knew something bad happened just by Scarlett’s aura alone, her whispering to the redhead “I’ve never seen it this bad.”

And when Dana arrived the following day, out of breath as she ran up the stairs thinking the elevator just wasn’t fast enough, she hugged Scarlett tight and asked “How can I help?”

And as promised, she spoke of it, once, then and there, making all of them promise they wouldn’t ever make her speak of it again, make her relieve it. But she didn’t yell, like she did with her mother, blaming her for everything. She didn’t run away, like she did with her grandmother, not carrying what she had to say. She talked and they listened, and she cried and they cried with her.

But Scarlett was right, there was nothing that could be done with talking about it. So they made a plan, for her to spend a few days with them, so they could keep an eye on her but also pull her away from the world she had plunged herself in. Because being alone would not be the best idea.

So Dana volunteered weekends, Saff would have her during the week without any issues, Nova splitting with her the week days. But before that, Nova made her promise something as they were all cleaning up the bottles, Scarlett reluctantly agreeing.

#scarlett tempest #phil baker #temper #Scarlett x Phil #hpma oc ship #hpma #hpma breakfast club

[alchemic-elric]

( @ghostboy-291 is having a bit of trouble. )

He'd wanted to find a library. And... he found one, alright, but definitely not the one he'd been looking for. He can't even read the books here very well, and he's thankful that he hadn't worn his typical clothes today because everyone in this library is dressed totally differently. Pale hands pull his coat tighter around his shoulders as he tries to hide amongst the many shelves, crouched in a back corner. There are too many people here. He doesn't like it at all. Maybe he can just wait for everyone to leave, and then he can ask for his friends to help him get back to the correct plane or realm. This isn't the first time he's come to the wrong place. It's fine. He can get home. He's sure of it. They need to stay hidden for now, though. All of them, Allister included. Deep breaths are shakily pulled in through his mask, though when he lays eyes on two people who have turned and found his spot, his composure falls entirely apart. He can't even run and there's nowhere to run. Not with a boy who looks taller and much stronger than him and a second person in a suit of armor who's big enough to cast a shadow over the whole aisle. He can't get past them. As long as they don't see his face and the tears that have started to sting at his eyes, he'll be okay... hopefully. "... I... I was just... going to leave," he stammers out. "Can... Can I get by? I- I'm lost and I should... try to find my way back... um... before it gets too late in the day."

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ This little fucker looks like he's about to cry. The elder of the alchemist pair frowns when he looks at him and he doesn't know how this kid got his ass lost in here but he did. The mask is a little fucked up but it's kinda badass looking in all honesty. Yeah actually, the more he looks at it - the more he likes it and he thinks it's pretty fucking sick.

So the blond approaches and crouches down to the hiding boy's level and tries to give him a smile. He's just a kid, so there's not really a reason to be a dick to him. He's already said he's lost.

"If yer lost then maybe we c'n help." He offers. " 'm Edward n' that's m'litle brother, Al. You new 'round 'ere? Look s'okay. You ain't gotta b' scared. If ya need ta go somewhere, we could show ya if ya want. Probably easier than wanderin' 'round lost. Central's a big ass place n' you'd probably only git lost again."

#v; strange kid #ghostboy291 #ghostboy-291 #ask || edward answers #unprompted || surprise orders #late reports || queue

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Bex's Blossom By Kate Winborne Annotations.

Hello, hello, hello! SO! This has been a project that I have been working on since August of 2022. I have been re-reading and annotating Blossom by Kate Winborne or @xmichaelmyers here on tumblr. I love Blossom, it is a fantastic book and when the hardcover update came out I just had to get it! So I did and when I did I thought why not write my thoughts out as I go? I have never annotated a book before. Kate didn’t ask this of me, I am not being paid, this is purely out of the sheer love I have for Kate, her work and these characters. So! Settle in and watch me scream in a spoiler heavy annotation of Blossom. Seriously I talk about spoilery things, if you haven’t read it and want to than please read the book first. 

I am going to annotate the next book After The Lamb Bites Back in smaller chunks as I go when I start reading it soon and will post them here on my blog so you can experience my going insane as it is happening! I will give notice and give this a tag if you wanna blacklist for spoilers! Now, under the cut, let’s get into it! Warnings for me being horny on main and discussions of heavy topics and violence and gore. (P.S. Food is a big thing in this book so I outline what I ate before and during and after my reading sessions to be extra.)

—

Starting at 7:41 PM on August 5th. Blossom Re-read of the hardcover edition. Dinner: Chili lime fish tacos with pickled red onions, salsa and chipotle mayo, drinking whisky and ginger ale over ice, snacking on while reading, salted caramel caramilk bar. 

What Kate wrote inside the cover is still so sweet. As is the foreword, so much love and so much excitement. 

Prolog:

The opening of the women watching their daughters in the park, still hits. That is the first thing from the book I ever read when Kate started posting and it still stands out so well. I want white wine and cheese now. 

It is wild how Kate can drop a fucking line about a throw away character, one we just meet, overdosing three hours later, someone we know nothing of and should not give a fuck about and are made to feel and care. Amazing, haunting, I feel bad for his son. 

THE WHORE IS HERE.

THE TREES KNOW MORE THAN THEY DARE SAY INDEED!

–

Chapter One

–

I love the description of us truly seeing him, it is so evocative. Also. I am weak. Professor Williamson, has such a good ring to it. 

Henry in the showerrrr. All of that is good but the man just going for it and getting off. Amazing image, ten outta ten. 

The man eating one packet of oatmeal and not even finishing it and whiskey for dinner while watching a nature show. This man. He needs someone to cook for him. I am that someone. 

The first sex scene of the book, Henry taking home a woman from Happy’s is short but vivid. A great insight into him. Henry is not satisfied by this encounter, to me, when reading it, the impression that she is seemingly so into it, so close and intimate, doesn’t make him feel comforted or seen, but rather the opposite. It makes him feel more hollow, more aware of the hunger inside of himself. This is one of the parts I kept thinking about knowing this re-read was coming. Henry is entirely unknowable, this woman and her illusion of closeness only serves to remind him of that. No one can know him, there are things about him that no one could ever understand and so he has to hide them, forget about the fact that he does NOT have the ability to allow someone so close to him or tolerate such vulnerability and honesty and emotional intimacy. What a lonely fucking guy. 

The detail of a single hair left behind that he curls around his finger until it breaks really stands out.

He’s got a new casssse!

—

Chapter Two.

—

The casual and consistent use and description of colours is one of my longest standing faves in this book. So effective! 

Henry shoving the bible into the nightstand out of sight? Fucking same dude. My guy!

The man packing the alcohol in his bag so fucking neatly to make sure it is safe. To then get drunk and pass the fuck out. He is not okay.

Ahhhhh this discription of The Town is so fucking good!

“-residing alongside the trauma that coated her tongue like honey, sweet as ripe tangerines, but bitter against the back of her throat like coffee grounds.”  I still think of this line often. It will pop into my head unbidden frequently.

—

Chapter Three.

—

Henry looking down at his medication with disdain before swallowing them down with cold coffee making me like, hey king you need to talk? Need your dick sucked? You know my number get at me.

I would eat at this hotel's breakfast. I really would. 

Blossom is officially here! Vanilla almond milk latte, as someone who has worked in coffee shops since seventeen on and off, reads as a very her drink. 

I have always really loved the description of Bethany. The detail of her avocado socks always stuck out. Considering the use of colour Kate applies throughout the whole book I know I should think of them being just the colour avocado, but part of me likes to think of them as printed with little cartoon avocados and that is cute as fuck and I love it. 

Blossom sees Henry for the very first time! God, the excitement I feel from this is far too much! 

“She wanted to crack him open like an egg, spool through his brains, his guts, burrow herself deep inside his roughness. As if there was a safety to it all. A home in all that damage.” The first line that really hooked me my first read and it still hits. It is a line just so full of, God, promise of so much shit to come.

Henry met Sophie and this time around, I feel differently about it just her saying that nothing bad has ever happened in this town is just, infuriating? On a deep level. Nothing bad has ever happened here? Really Soph? Not even in your own home? You fuck.

I am begging, begging the people in The Town to acknowledge the horrors in front of them as if I am Charlie Day in It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia ranting about Pepe Silvia.  

Sophie seeing Blossom staring and being like “Please, for once, PLEASE-” and Blossom being like “Ahahaha, no! <3.” Adore it.

—

Chapter Four.

—

Norman has arrived. He wants a steak before seven thirty. This man is an animal and not in the good way. Henry’s reaction is appropriate for once, I too, am disgusted.

Stop judging Sophie! The man BARELY eats, he needs all the nutrition he can get! Let him have his fucking raspberry pie and ice cream!

Discussion of the first two murders. Henry is much too excited by the prospect of a serial killer, which bitch, same?!

Henry going into the detail of the first real gruesome crime scene he was sent to like damn, DAMN! FUCK KATE!

Henry talking shop! About the pattern, how confident, talking about the killer being addicted, the parallels. Mannnn. 

PROLONGED EYE CONTACT!

Finished reading for tonight at 10:11 PM. 60 pages covered this first session. 

—

Wednesday August 10th. Second session. Starting at 9:20 Pm. Off tomorrow. Dinner: Peanut and sesame noodles with chilli oil and green onion. More whiskey with ginger ale over ice. Snacking on hot cheetos and a crispy caramel kit-kat while reading. 

—

Chapter Five.

—

Oh the HOSPITAL! YES!

Tv is on a cooking channel because of course it is. 

Henry just cutting the small talk short asdfghjkajshglakhdg, “Take me to the bodies FRANK-” And Frank being like “If you got the stomach for it.” Like Frank. Honey. You know nothing of this man. 

Henry being totally unfazed by the smell of the dead. This man is not okay. (This will be said many times throughout this.) 

Why, why, why do I love this passage so much? Talking about how Henry looks over the body? The image is so crystal clear. It is almost like I am in the room. Like I can smell the bleach as I look over his shoulder, watching as he inspects the cadaver below him, watching how the bright harsh lighting catches on the cold thick blood clotting between his gloved fingers? I can see Henry at this moment. Like I could just reach out and touch him. How can something like this be written in a way that is so telling, so intimate yet so detached? It is captivating as hell. Just like Henry himself.  This was another moment during my first read though that made me want to know more about him.

“Coffee, yeah. Thanks.” That is such a human moment that just reeks of reality. A phrase I have heard uttered a million times in my line of work and I can hear how it was said perfectly. The little details really make this. 

Shit coffee indeed, let me make this man a good cup of coffee PLEASE-

He needs a fresh body!!!

—-

Chapter Six.

—-

Man is so particular about his coffee honestly I love what it adds to his character. It says SO much by saying so little. 

Oh my God and Mr.Clemmington was a cook.

Henry hating small talk makes so much sense. What an asshole. Love him.

Name drop! Blossom James ooooohhh.

“Anyway, I hope no girl in this town is capable of such a thing…” Oh giiiirlll. You don’t know shit about shit. 

Henry taking his pills with leftover coffee with cigarette ash in it like SIR can you PLEASE take care of yourself even just a little?!

Henry, you need more than dry cereal for dinner. 

—

Chapter Seven.

—

Henry’s breakfast, coffee, cigarettes and fucking twizzlers apparently. 

Watching him at work is captivating. Henry rattling off what should be done and in what order is justttt a sickening delight. What a freak.

Ethan is missing. And Henry is a little too defensive. “I didn’t say anything.” Mmmhmmm. You didn’t have to. 

—

Chapter Eight.

—

Henry deadass like “We are looking for a body-” and Norman just, “Oh you’d like that sooooo much wouldn’t you?!” Uh. Yeah. Duh dude, he’s the worst. 

Ethan and Blossom went out, eh? Oooh boy. 

This chapter is short but so fucking gooood. I love how they haven’t even formally met and he is getting frustrated by her! The build up and teasing before we really get to know her is just so fucking delicous.

—

Chapter Nine.

—

The description of the hotel’s restaurant is another stand out. I can imagine myself sitting there, smelling the vanilia of the candles and partaking in the food, almost as if I can taste the vegetable medley myself. 

I love Blossom's dress, periwinkle is an underrated colour and the meaning of her wearing it here, tonight, during their first official meeting is not lost on me and the impact is strong.

They are sitting, they are talkING-

Blossom clearly has thoughts about Ethan. I can hear the bite of the way she says ‘Golden boy’ and it is telling. 

“Henry.” Whore. Him. Not her. He is the whore. Like call me Henry, the fuck IS that?! Asking her to use your first name? Mmm? Already so informal? Like a slut? Have you no shame?

“Picky with your food.” “If you’d call it that.” The TENSION! I’ve already read this before but I am still so like !!!!

“-he just didn’t fuck me anymore.” girl fucking say it. 

“Do you like me Henry?” I mean fuck how could he not?

Oh mannnn another masturbation scene hell yeah baby! Unlike the first one this one lingers for longer and it is good. The idea that he doesn’t even necessarily enjoy the act of this, it is a means to an end, an annoyance, it’s a mix of anger, of disgust, of maintenance, of hatred, it’s this balance that is just so fucking right. The idea of hating the act of this is just, so interesting to me. Not just from a narrative perspective, not just for the way it lets us into Henry’s mind, but because it is so utterly different and conflicting from my own personal feelings about the act. Not even the act as he is doing it but my own relationship with it on a deep and personal level, the differences between he and I, they don’t divide me from his character, if anything, they intrigue me further, beckoning me to know him. 

“The taste of her name as sweet as the frost-glazing of a strawberry filled cake, flowering in his chest until it choked him.” Pure poetry. Gorgeous. Perfect. Another stand out line. Makes me think of so much, the images of digging my fingers into a pretty little decorated cake, of ripping and tearing and splitting it open simply to destroy something beautiful, to mirror what Blossom is already doing to Henry in such a short time, to then just lick the mashed and sugary strawberry mixture of the filling from my fingers, just because, flit through my mind while reading this line. What is this book capable of? The things it can conjure up cannot be understated. 

Hot, hot, hot. Love he was still half dressed and just spills himself onto the sheets. 

—

Finished second session at 10:53 PM. 45 pages covered in the second session. Word count over 2K now. 

—

Such a large break happened because of me leaving my previous job, moving into a new town and starting a new job, better late than never, I am back on it!

Starting this session at 11:02 AM on January 17th, a Tuesday, I have the day off today. Breakfast was cereal, I am having ice water and no snack because I will break for lunch soon. 

—

Chapter Ten.

— 

 I adore the description of Blossom’s house, it is so clear that just like all things Kate writes, a ton of thought was put into every detail. 

More food, this reminds me I should make meatloaf again soon,

“Seeing the Agent made her hungry.” I fucking LOVE. 

“Breathing out with the softness of a flowering bruise, tender and hesitant.” Kate I simultaneously want to kiss and punch you for always doing this! You throw out just the best fucking lines so damn casually. As if we are roommates, I finished a long day at work, sitting at the kitchen table and you just stride into the room, drop one of the most profound things I have ever heard and then just waltz off back to your own space as if it were nothing and I am not left changed and struggling to contend with what you just forced upon me. That is what lines like this feel like and do to me. Does that make sense?

And here it is, another real heart stopping and revealing moment of what makes Blossom her. You just know from the jump that there is something more to her, and this passage makes it abundantly clear and makes you feel for her. While I personally have experienced my fair share of this sort of thing in my own life it is of course, like a lot of stories, different from what she has but my heart goes out to her. Why can’t Blossom use, abuse, and take from these men as they have taken from her? Why not?

This chapter isn’t long but it doesn’t need to be, it is honestly very necessary and I love the look into Blossom alone and at home. 

—

Chapter Eleven.

—

Man fell asleep still dressed and cum covered. What a fucking whore, what an inspiration, what a guy. How down bad am I, do you ask? So bad that I read this and my first thought was, “I could fix that. Fuck the shower, I have a mouth-” With all the coffee he drinks, his alcohol problem and the smoking his cum must taste terrible. Still wouldn’t stop me.

I love this so much. Having Blossom showering in the last chapter towards the end and Henry at the next towards the start and difference in how they do even down to the temperature they prefer, amazing. 

Back at the diner, another meeting, more tension and of course, more food. It is impossible to read this and not get hungry and also slightly nauseated at points, it is beautiful. 

“-reached for more, satisfying herself in front of him.” I fucking canNOT. 

I love any scene with them talking back and forth.

This is so fucking good, she is getting to him so easily and just how unapologetically she is eating. Also, “But you’re not sorry. Why would you be?” Might be one of my fave quotes so far, it stuck out my last reading as well. 

Interrupting Henry when he immediately assumes the killer is a man and her fighting him on it. 

“Don’t underestimate the rage of a woman, Special Agent.” YEAH HENRY! And maybe it WAS a threat. What are you gonna do about it? 

Invite Blossom to the search part apparently.

—

Chapter Twelve. 

—

I feel it is important to mention at this juncture that I cannot read in silence so I have on a thunderstorm in the woods audio going and it feels just totally perfect for reading this

Henry runs through the details of the practised lie of what happened between him and his wife with a shocking amount of detachment, but not that shocking for him.

Mr.Whitmore you should learn to like, I dunno, lie better. 

The cropped tea and pink bell bottoms is unironically one of my favourite Blossom looks described in this book. 

This conversation, the back and forth and talking about favourite colours, their characters really shine here, another stand out moment. After having read this once before Henry saying “Blue” and knowing what will come later, I had to put the book down for a moment, and not just to type up this annotation. 

“How old are you, Blossom?” “Eighteen.” Old enough to legally...Vote. But on the real again the tension in this scene, sharing the cigarette, the closeness, just THIS. 

A body has been discovered! 

Blossom admitting she doesn’t feel anything upon seeing the disgusting corpse is just so fucking good. 

Chapter twelve was fucking great, I forgot how much happened in this one chapter, a total fave. 

—

Chapter Thirteen.

—

Blossom and Henry are just lying to police now, alright, alright. 

Short but to the point, I enjoy the small details in this one. Describing the grotesque nature of the body especially was very effective. 

Also the forgetting a clipboard and letting Blossom write on his back, cute, realistic, adore it.

Course you can’t pass up a fresh corpse Henry you fucking freak. 

—

Chapter Fourteen.

—

The entertainment centre! I remember simply adoring this next chapter, I am excited!

Grilling Mr.Whitmore on why he works here occasionally. Henry you are so, so transparent and projecting really hard here. Being so critical with him being so close to the teenagers when what are you doing with Blossom? You woke up splattered in your own cum after passing out post-nut, post-jack sesh thinking about a certain eighteen year old blonde, remember? 

More Henry and Blossom talking <3

“Oh, come on. You can’t deny that…You don’t look at all these…Preppy, skimpy seventeen and eighteen year old girls and don’t think about when you were that age with the impulse control of a twelve year old.” HENRY! 

“No. I don’t. Because I’m not seventeen, or eighteen anymore, Henry. And neither are you.” “Doesn’t mean I still can’t look.” He is so fucking gross. And yet…

I do feel for ol Norm here but at the same time he really does need to let Henry do his damn  job. 

“We’ll see if the Coopers are ready to talk and resume the work on Monday. I’m sure the killer will understand.” What a note to go out on Henry damn.

A knock on the door? This late? Who could it be? I ask having fully read this book before.

I was right by the way, this chapter was so good and so engrossing.

—

 Chapter Fifteen. 

—

Of course it’s Blossom who is here. Obviously. Who else?

Naturally she comes in. 

Absent mom and a dead mom. Gotta love two people with mommy issues getting together. 

I find myself unable to pull away during their conversations, they are just still so engaging to read. That being said, “Why don’t you like white wine?” “I’ve always preferred something stronger. Something that bites.” Oh I bet you do.

She’s making the move, SHE’S MAKING THE MOVE-

The description of Henry here, hands up, not looking at her, trying very, very hard to maintain his composure and will and not touch her. Oof. 

They are kissing! This is where it all starts to really go tits up and I am so here for it.

“We shouldn’t be doing this-” Oh but you’re gonna Henry, you are, we all know it just do it!

He really is trying here, and he does make a good point, they shouldn’t get involved with each other like this but that is part of what makes it so good!!!

She isn’t wearing any panties. 

Man is done for. 

And he gives in! Get it Henry! I wish that were me. Who in this scenario? Like a true bisexual. Both. 

Just going for it and with no protection! Henry, you animal. 

His garden. This whole section is phenomenal. People could learn a thing or two about writing sex scenes from reading how Kate does it!

Kate’s work is just mind blowing. It is incredible how she writes the differences between Henry and Blossom post their first time together. For him feeling like he can breathe for the first time in years and her imagining becoming one with the forest, consumed with rot and dying like the way they view sex and each other is so intensely fascinating. It just so interesting too because I have felt like Blossom has, chest feeling scooped out and hollow and empty but never relating to sex, reading this book with just how different my perspective on physicality with another human from there's never bores me.

“RISE AND SHINE, ASSHOLE, NEW DAY! AND LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE NOW!”  That is just this book and Henry’s life all over, huh? A good alternate tagline. 

Ahhhhh a dream sequence and such a fucking good one! The imagery in this is immaculate, the one that stands out to me the most is the mention of Blossom’s hair in a high ponytail tied with a pink ribbon, so fucking good and so clever. Blossom becoming a literal monster and tearing him apart, what do you think it means Henry? C’mon, THINK!

Another fantastic chapter, of course.

—

Chapter Sixteen. 

—

He is making her breakfast. Also blueberry pancakes are in fact the best, I will not take criticism at this time. 

“Colour me impressed.” My gesturing to a board covered with papers and tacked with pins, red strings connecting seemingly random things and moments, “It all comes back to COLOUR! IT’S ALWAYS ABOUT THE COLOUR! DO YOU SEE-”

“Yet, there was still nothing ever as tooth-rotting as Blossom James.” I am punching the air!

—

Chapter Seventeen.

—

Her being so excited to see him oh my GOD. “I missed you.” “You always miss me.” Things that happen between me and my husband all the time, no word of a lie.

Planning secret meetings ooooooh.

“I want you to do exactly what you wanted to do the day we found Ethan.” Blossom. Have I told you lately how much I love you?

Also I love the little jump here. The few weeks and the mention of just how many times and places they have fucked thus far, they have clearly been very busy. 

Fucking right next to the scene of the crime, extremely risky but also, extremely hot.

This is all fucking amazing. The depth, the feeling, Blossom’s and Henry’s worry and doubt and hungry fervour for one another being so all consuming constantly. The question of how does this end is a good one to leave the chapter with.

How will it all end?

—

Chapter Eighteen.

—

Kate describes kisses in a million ways and I am here for all of them. Preppy and sickening or otherwise. 

This man smokes. So fucking much my God. Third read I should do a cigarette counter. 

Henry drinking and getting sloppy and good ol Norm comes to the rescue. 

Bro. Dude. Asking for Blossom in your drunken stupor is not going to help anyone or anything my GOD DUDE!

He is such a fucking messss.

—

Chapter Nineteen.

—

Yeah you forgot your shit at the bar you fucking walking embarrassment of a man Henry.

I’m part of the Abby fanclub. 

I really like Sophie and Norm interacting. It totally reads that they have known each other a very long time and I love the easy and playful air between them both very much. A joy to read. 

The suspensions are not misplaced Sophie, not at all.

Blossom comes by to bring a lot more than just coffee in this scene that is for damn sure. Norm is really trying to give Henry the benefit of the doubt and struggling. I think he is almost trying too hard to convince himself but as he told Sophie before, what else can he do?

Another great chapter with more tension. I am stopping for now to break for lunch. I am thinking of an egg salad sandwich. It is 1:34 PM. I covered 110 pages this round, over halfway through the book. This has been the longest session so far and the doc is now over 4,000 words. 

—

It is January 29th, a Sunday, it is 12:31 PM, I have the day off and the laundry going as I sit down for this session. I had a sleep in and a late breakfast of an open faced sandwich consisting of egg and honey ham with chive cream cheese and hashbrowns. Water and no snack again. 

—

Chapter Twenty.

—

Blossom is having a party and again, I love the outfit described here, it is one of the first ones I think of, totally iconic and so her. 

Blossom in the bathroom with some fucking guy and this guy, Kyle, God, I hate him. Hated him the first read, hate him this one too, what a complete shit stain. 

I hate and love how real this is. It is just so fucking sickening because it is so common and happens all the damn time and has happened to her how many times? I wish Blossom would, I wish she would rip his teeth out, or scream or something but I know all too well what can happen in these scenarios and why she doesn’t. God, Kate, stop being such a good writer all the time damn it!

This is the kind of part that makes me want to reach in the pages and kill Kyle myself. Reminding myself he is a fictional character means nothing because Henry and Blossom are fictional too, you know? But the feelings they make me feel are real, what I get from reading this book is real and while they aren’t real living breathing people, Kate writes them so well they feel like they are. Even if they are fictional and I am real and I cannot touch them in a tangible way, this asshole, Kyle is fictional just as they are and therefore can and chooses to do harm and the threat of Blossoms hurt by him feels so sharp I could cut myself on it. 

“Did you cum?” Kill yourself Kyle you pathetic rapist fuckwad. 

Mr.Whitmore why are you at a high schooler’s party exactly???

“Rather, there was a tenderness to his bruising touch.” Kate. Girl. I am eating this line. Crushing it up and snorting it, need it in my bloodstream. 

The drama of it all, neither of them can communicate properly at all like just please can you for once be normal. I say as if I don’t love them at their absolute worst. 

—

Godddd what a fucking chapter, so good, so much happened but not enough to feel like overwhelmed by it, you know? Stellar as to be expected.

—

Before. Technically Chapter Twenty-One.

—

The wife is here. Cindy, poor, poor Cindy. Love the pjs tho.

Siiiigh, you too Henry? I say as I read him about to force himself on his wife as if I have not read this before.

This scene is so hard to talk about but I want to talk about it, you know? Like it is very intense how unintentional it seems to be, he didn’t come home planning to kill his wife, it isn’t a big premeditated thing, also I love how real this is. How he is so comfortable, so sure everything will be fine and cares so much about what he wants or feels he needs that he has no regard for her and pays the heaviest fine for it, her death, being the one that killed her. But also, even though we see him leaning on booze and pills and the rest, the man is still alive, he still goes on living, walking free after he did that.

RIP Cindy, we hardly knew you and you definitely deserved better.

—

Short chapter but it is deff supposed to be, gets across just what it needs to and it hit hard and is insanely effective.

—

Chapter Twenty-Two.

—

Blossom got into the car and now after a short but tense drive they are having a conversation and this conversation my Lord! Henry is totally upset that Blossom is right by the way, she knows he likes how she looks next to him and how she makes him feel but he’s all “oh I’m so much older, my job, my station, my morals-” WHAT MORALS HENRY?

Also Henry has a point, Blossom James does have main character syndrome and is just constantly inserting herself into the narrative but she is fucking interesting as hell and I wanna see her all the time so damn Henry let her live!

“You know nothing about me.” Mmmm don’t be so sure Henry.

Blossom is again correct, you wanted to fuck her from the moment you saw her, don’t deny it you mess of a man!

Him hitting her !, her nose bleeding and her smiling up at him with fucking red teeth, !!, the description I never get tired of reading ever of her being a predator of equal conviction !!!!!!!!!

Like I could go on and on about this section just it is so fucking good! Henry’s complex and swirling emotional state consuming him so thoroughly and being unable to control himself around her! The conflicting wants and feelings and him being just thoroughly unequipped to deal with it all! They are a car crash I cannot look away from, nor would I ever want to. I stare and let the images of them tangled up in a gory flaming pile burn into my retinas until the fumes of spilled gasoline make me literally pass the fuck out. 

Me dancing in my chair as I read how Henry wants to kill and main Blossom, just a nice Sunday afternoon.

Henry saying he doesn’t want to fight her. Like I don’t believe you again Henry,

They are fucking in the carrr! Which like yes, hot, get it, but also, Blossom are you good?

Henry chasisting her over smoking, like, dude. For real?

Blossom calling him Daddy, him calling her disgusting and shotgunning smoke into her mouth, her being so fucking coy and pleased with herself, “And you love it.” Like yeah he does and so do I! Do it again!

Blossom asking him to the fucking dance! THE DANCE IS COMING! AH!

Henry of course you can’t go to the dance you old fuck but also her teasing him about going with a boy her own age and him getting so angry over it has me so amped, like the playfulness on display here it is just all a game to her!

—

I want to make this chapter breakfast in bed and then smash the coffee mug over its head before giving it a big ol kiss.

—

Chapter Twenty-Three.

—

Chinese food late at night in a hotel room sounds so fucking good right now it is unreal.

Okay but now I need a disgustingly detailed section of how exactly Henry eats pussy or do I gotta do that myself? I can do it myself! I just need to know, we know I can deliver it too. I just gotta think on it.

Blossom asking to get choked by him like girl you don’t know what you are asking of him! He CAN hurt you! He wants to! You are meddling in forces you do not understand!

Every little piece and look into Blossoms past is so fucking sad. She has been through so much I hate it. 

Must every guy in Blossom’s life suck so fucking hard?

Also the milk and honey thing coming around and around again is so fucking perfect and apt and slots into this story fucking amazingly well.

Blossom making him breakfast! I would eat what she made, it sounds fucking good honestly.

Another amazingly described kiss that is so fucking perfect I ache.

—

Another banger of a chapter my God I feel so full and spoiled during this re-read.

—

Chapter Twenty Four.

—

Why are all the suspects older dudes? Hum. I wonder.

Also Henry dressed like a total slut today, we love to see it!

Someone who hangs around the younger guys and girls. Man, I wonder who he is thinking of!!!

I could listen to Henry go off about this kind of thing forever, Freud or otherwise.

Stacy do be Stacy though that is for damn sure Norman.

Norman inviting Henry for dinner and asking him for a smile that turns out to be so unsettling that he is just straight up like nevermind please don’t ever do that again oh my God. Perfection. Hilarious. Whenever and I do mean WHEN, not IF, the movie or tv series or whatever adapt of this happens, that detail needs to be left in.

Blossom out alone with a bunch of boys in the woods and drinking, a horrible idea really.

I can hear the “I wasn’t gonna let them do anything, I was just playyingg-” in my head and it is great. Also sure, Blossom.

This girl will not stop running her mouth to save her life. You are gonna get you and Henry in so much trouble!

I don’t blame Sopher for hating Henry, man is always acting suspicious.

And so it comes out again! Henry I think you do have it out for Whitmore and I think it is because you see an uncomfortable amount of yourself in him at times and refuse to acknowledge it. But also yeah Whitmore is really weird, keep an eye on that guy.

Ooooof. Norman laying it down, like he knows what is up! He isn’t dumb Henry! “I hope to fuck I don’t.” Hits so fucking hard.

Man I do not like Sophie but that is totally a ME and my issues thing because she is right about a lot of this.

—

Another fucking awesome chapter, the scene with her in the woods and Henry coming by is another stand out in my mind I find myself thinking of often. 

—

Chapter Twenty-Five.

—

Henry finding the old pictures of Blossom on the fridge and wondering what made her so “hard” like man if you only knew.

God, the imagery you describe Kate everytime it gets to me. Reach into her brains and feel around, discover what is really wrong Henry do it!

The girl was just fucking waiting for him! Also the lingerie sounds cute as fuck.

C’mon Henry we both know you are gonna fuck her, just do it my guy. 

The give and take between them both, the constant fight and unease and just inability to just exist without conflict. Man do I love it. 

Blossom calling him daddy has me feeling some kind of way.

The choose to kiss me thing has my in knots just it is fucking fantastic Kate just truly something else.

The softness and the not wanting to be so vulnerable but being unable to help it.

—

Finished this session at 2:31 PM. Stopping at page 288. I covered 73 pages this time around. The doc is over 5.5K words. Less than 100 pages left to cover. The next annotation session might be my last. Excited to finish strong!

—

It is January 31st, a Tuesday, once again it is my day off. I have less than 100 pages left to cover in Blossom and I am going to attempt to complete the book and the annotations this session. For breakfast I had a fried egg sunny side up on a single slice of buttered toast, topped with green onion and everything bagel seasoning. No snack as I am planning on lunch today, perhaps mac and cheese? I am drinking a country peach herbal tea out of my mug Kate sent, “The Trees Know More Than They Dare Say” stares back at me as I put on more thunderstorms in the forest sounds at 10:56 AM and this new reading session begins.

—

Chapter Twenty-Six.

—

I don’t think I have mentioned it until now but Henry smoking Marlboro’s just makes like way, way too much sense. I can see him holding the classic iconic white and red and gold pack in his hand very clearly.

Henry staring into the forest and wanting to lie down and rot and let it all overtake him in many a similar way that Blossom has is so interesting. Also it makes me wonder like are they just this similar? Or is something up with this forest in particular? But then I remember all the time I have spent in forests and that they are just Like That.

Henry plays nice at the dinner with Norm’s family and I love the honesty of him telling Norm when asked, that he doesn’t give a shit what he thinks but what Stacy thinks actually matters. Good shit, consistent with his character and just an awesome detail. 

Norm filling in Henry on the ‘rumours’ and him brushing it off as just that. Henry is understandably very upset as am I!

Another shower, him gripping the sink and staring at himself in the mirror, again, reminiscent and similar of Blossom earlier. 

Talking about her perfume being on his coats and his pillows, and then this, “She was everywhere. Infecting him.” She so is! I love how slowly it happens but how clear it is here, how much she is burrowed inside him and has affected him so heavily, she has set up camp inside him and he isn’t even fully aware of how much she has. I am obsessed. 

“He felt as if she was the biggest mystery of all.” Fucking cut, print, beautiful note to finish on. Another moment I can see put to screen.

—

A fantastic chapter, seriously so many good smaller details, thoroughly enjoyable yet again,

—

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

—

This chapter is only about two pages but what a two pages. 

Two pages of Blossom breaking down after expecting Henry to reach out and him not, her sobbing, clawing at herself and drinking. The descriptions here at the end, of so desperate for relief you hurt yourself immensely in the process, willing to tear till you see bone just hoping for a moment’s peace, goregous. 

—

Ethan, or, Chapter Twenty-Eight.

—

Another very short chapter, describing Blossom in the cemetery and Ethan following her there. The conversation is brief, him saying she shouldn’t be out like this, him affirming that it’s not girls like her that are dying, it’s boys like him and him assuring her that he can “bench 200” so the guy will have his work cut out for him. Okay, nice attempt to flex Ethan /s. But this last line is the stand out to me, “-and Blossom let her head fall back, snaking her arm around his shoulders and closing her eyes, engulfing him.”  Phew. Truly a banger.

—

Chapter Twenty-Nine.

—

Oh my God this is it, this is the chapter, the long, extended dream sequence. I dunno if I am ready again! This part is so intense but so good. Okay, okay, be cool, here we go.

We kick off with a wonderfully descriptive scene of Henry eating, frantic, hungry, desperately trying to satisfy himself, right? Eating meat, drinking red wine, eating pomegranate, and it’s all fine until we pull away to see that he is actually eating Blossom. And not in the way we have seen before, we are talking full out, full on, raw, animalistic, cannibal style consumption. 

It isn’t enough and it will never be enough as he feeds and eats until there is literally nothing left of her, going so far as to consume bone, marrow and cartilage. 

He reaches back in and instead of finding warmth and hopefully more food instead he finds a nest of baby spiders and I get a chill every time I read this part ugh!

This image is the best. Henry trying to fight to get the spiders off, almost tripping and then Blossom, still dead, reaching out, catching his wrist and holding him there, mouth opening and dark legs of a much larger spider reaching out from the darkness just- my GOD. Horror, pure, horror, goodness.

Tea update, I have gotten so distracted reading and annotating it has now gone cold.

The dream shifts suddenly to Henry being in front of and then going into Blossom’s house in search of her, the hope that he will find her safe is one that I cannot share with him because Henry, awake or asleep she is never safe with you.

The description of the room in total disarray is fantastic and also again something that one can picture so easily. 

Blossom is dead and Henry is holding her and sobbing and I am FEELING!

Him crying and apologising is everything. 

But, it was all a joke because all of this is a big fucking joke to Blossom, even pretending she is dead all for him to discover. 

“Does it make you feel good? Tearing those around you apart? Destroying those that care about you?” Go off Henry. But also yeah Blossom, does it?

“I’m sorry.” “No you’re not.” - “You never are.”  Fucking snaps Kate. 

This moment still fucks me up, Henry realizing that he is dead on the floor, has been watching himself this whole time. 

“Are you going to hurt me like you hurt her?” She asked. “Do you want to hurt me Henry? Do you want to kill me too?”  This whole scene, this whole sequence is indescribably good. I wouldn’t want them to cut a single moment or movement from this pure gold. 

Words are failing me.

He’s awake!

The bitch is back and she is drunk.

I have read a few reviews that claim the work of Kate and this book in particular to be ripping off Gone Girl, calling it plagiarism, especially for this next part. Blossom, drunk and a mess giving a speech, a rant, going the fuck off about the awful treatment of men and expectations thrust upon her and all women and that just pisses me off. The reviews, not her speech, her speech is great. I hate that reviewers see a woman giving a speech about mistreatment, and the entitlement of men and look at Kate and her work and compare her to Gillian Flynn negatively.  Because don’t you know there can be only one book like this? Only one story delving into the rage inherent to the feminine? Only one book can have this kind of character, this kind of story, everything else is clearly a copy, a cheap imitation, instead of insulting and making unfair and frankly incorrect claims, looking at the broader picture. These reviewers look at this and compare instead of seeing that both these stories and many more like them can have their own spot in the conversation, and can co-exist. And the biggest point of all, maybe, just fucking maybe, the reason there is multiple stories, conversations, rants, characters like Amy and like Blossom is because what they are talking about, what they preach has distinct truth and basis in the reality of the experience of tons and tons of women and that is why it hits and resonates. 

Also Henry thank God you stopped yourself from saying that shit because holy fuck no one is ever asking for it ever.

Henry not believing female rage, like alright bud, sit down.

Blossom’s feelings are so valid here. The want for people who have harmed you to see how they have and understand it and share that feeling. It is fucking powerful, this whole section is!

“Would you kill to take back your power?” Henry, you are getting closer to getting it. 

The way I need this whole scene filmed yesterday.

Blossom’s got a fucking gun. The first time I read this my stomach dropped. 

This scene with her holding the gun to him is so tense.

Kate you could write about the issues with women only becoming empowered in media through abuse and hurt from men for hours and hours and I would eat it up. Oh shit, wait, I already have. I’d do it again. 

I like to think for sure a part of Blossom wants to stop this, wants to be ‘normal’ wants to love as Henry describes but again, the constant mistreatment from everyone all her life prevents that. How can she just swallow back all this hate and not let it poison her? How can she just move on from that? It IS like saying that they won, she becomes another person standing idly by, a part of the problem. 

Finally she falls asleep and the chapter ends.

—

This is my favourite chapter in the book by far. I could scream on and on about it more than I already have, the dream sequence I could read it and go line by line diving in deeper I swear to God. I gotta hold myself back in some places though. 

—

Chapter Thirty.

—

A hard and tense conversation is had once Blossom wakes up in the morning.

Henry keeps on choosing her, she didn’t ask for it, true but he isn’t unreasonable in wanting her to choose him back and some proof of this. 

She clearly doesn’t want him to go, but he does. 

She usually has cold showers but takes a hot one in an attempt to understand. I could never take a cold shower so Blossom girl, I do not understand you in that respect. 

—

A shorter but extremely emotionally driven chapter that hits the spot after the last one.

—

Chapter Thirty-One.

—

Blossom asking for some help with her photos.

Oh my God Mr.Whitmore you fucking creep. Yeah I will look over your photos for the end of year project, how about I bring a bottle of wine along?! You sick fuck I hate you.

She is eating once again, drinking once again, watching a nature documentary and wishing she as the wolf and the prey all at once and I am still just so fucking captivated by it.

Yeah those Barbie commercials suck, I’d turn off the TV too.

—

Chapter Thirty-Two.

—

We finally got another body hoooo boy! 

Again tied with a pink ribbon, again many, many stab wounds, throat slashed this time, leaving him to choke on his own blood. 

I afforded myself a ten minute break at this time to grab an ice water and make lunch, I sit back down with my mac and cheese ready to eat and read. 

The killer is being unorganised and cocky, in broad daylight no less?

A school ID at the scene of the crime!

A frantic call from Blossom oh my God!

Mr.Whitmore is with her and when Henry gets there he is dead and she is holding the knife.

Her sobbing about how she lost control is haunting knowing what we know. Knowing how important control is to her and this is why she is doing this, convincing herself whenever she is being hurt or used she is still in control it is like what happened? The tension!

—

My mac and cheese threatens to go cold at this rate because this book, again even on the second readthrough, is so captivating. 

—

Chapter Thirty-Three.

—

Blossom is in the hospital and Henry is there with her.

The girl has been really fucked up my God. 

Norman is totally a bit salty and mad at himself that Henry was right this whole time about it being Mr.Whitmore. 

Love Henry describing the motif of the pink ribbon representing Blossom, just, real good.

I really, really like Norm and Sohpie’s interactions, again the air of how long they have known each other hangs heavy.

Of course it actually happened Norm. Come on. What kid lies about that?

—

Another chapter in the books that I love, a big smooch for this one.

—

Chapter Thirty-Four.

—

We are finally at the dance hooo boy.

The theme of the dance being love, gag me. 

Henry is here like she wanted! 

Be still my heart she is wearing fucking blue. SHE IS WEARING BLUE!

It’s all like a dream, an actually good one for once Henry, a rarity for you I am sure. 

They dance and yeah all the parents watching on like uhhh? Hilarious, like shut up you don’t know them like us the readers do!

And they leave the dance togetherrrr. God I love them way too much for how bad they are for each other.

Back at the hotel, much making out and getting drunk together.

He wants to rip away the blue and bury himself in her pink oh my fucking-KATE! I love you.

Blossom is that girl. Drunk all like, “I wanna go swimming!” And fuck I felt that. 

Kate could write something just listing colours over and over and I would love it. 

Of course he doesn’t want her in the pool. She wants him in the pool with her, so she drags him in, naturally.

The build up of what you think is going to be a steamy sex scene poolside ends up with Blossom breaking down and man my heart hurts. 

—

This chapter is just so well paced AND well placed, you know what I mean, it is just mwah, amazing, very needed, tonally it flows so well.

—

Chapter Thirty-Five.

—

It’s summer, a month after the dance and Henry pays Blossom a visit. 

We get to hear some of her statement and mannn. It is just, fucking pitch perfect, immaculate. 

“I want to love you…So badly…” - “But?” - Blossom didn’t answer.  I am ripping my own hair out oh my God. 

Blossom is so empty inside, nothing there at all and so she instead of dealing with the internal pain, she seeks physical pleasure.

Okay this next sex scene, so fucking good, just I love the juxtaposition of the flowery language with harsher terms thrown in there, it is through the whole book and it feels like it sums up Blossom the character insanely well. 

“In return, Blossom gave him exactly what he needed, at the same time, taking exactly what she wanted. A perfect balance.” Can I get this line tattoo’d on the inside of my eyelids as well as marry it?

—

Chapter Thirty-Six.

—

Post fuck our fave creep Henry Williamson watches Blossom shower and I wish that were me.

Oh he is smoking less look at him!

“He wondered if this could last forever.” Doubtful. A nice thought though. 

You’ve been here how many times and you only look around her room now? Alright. 

Of course you go for her underwear drawer you little freak of a man! 

Henry finds an envelope and in it a series of pictures of the bodies, of the crime scenes but they aren’t copies, oh no they are originals and very different from the ones he has seen previously.

A delectable little cut back showing Adam Hall from the start going to the woods for a run and Blossom following after him oh my God.

—

And just like that the book is over. It is, amazing, truly a gripping read even the second time. I noticed more, picked up on more and really loved it even more. Blossom being the real one behind all this is fantastic, well played and woven without it feeling shoved in your face or obvious and reading it now after the first time knowing she did it was a trip! This book is fantastic, I could read it over and over and I intend to! It plays like a movie, I love the characters and it is just phenomenal. I cannot recommend it enough. Seriously everyone needs to read this and then review it afterwards I am begging! Kate, this book is just, ugh, so special and something so different and I am just totally enamoured with it and you and how you write. In case this 8.6K document didn’t express that already. Thank you again so much for this story and now I can’t wait to read After The Lamb Bites Back!

#Blossom #Blossom By Kate Winborne #horror fiction #BHF writing #annotations #I fucking love how this came out and hope it captures how much I love this book #my thoughts and just how insane it makes me #I LOVE YOU KATE #Fr there are spoilers in this tho so tread lightly #Henry Williamson

[famej]

Qué estas diciendo?

Raleigh Carrera x Reader

A/N: Ugh! This fic has been buried in the deepest part of my laptop for years. This idea seemed to be cool at the time but I realized that it wasn’t that much after all. I am not fluent in spanish, actually my capacity in this language is pretty shit, thanks to google translate, don’t hesitate to point out mistakes if you see some.

Warning: Spanish dirty talk, smut (real quick)

« Hola, mi amor »

The words announcing Raleigh’s entrance made you look up from your phonescreen. The one and only Mr Carrera walked over to you, letting himself fall on the couch right next to you, then pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

« Como Esta ? »

You raised your eyebrow in suspision

« Bien y tu « 

« Muy bien. No sabes que hablas espanol »

« Solo un poco »

Raleigh smiled. He took your phone out of your hand setting it on the table and took your forearm between his hands.

« Eres sexy quien hablas espanol, mamacita » he slurred sexily before kissing delicately the skin of the inside of your arm, making his way slowly to your wrist.

« Qué bella »

He kissed your skin from your wrist to your palm, then took his time savouring your fingers.

« Are you already horny ? »

« Si, siempre para ti »

When his lips had reached your fingertips he darted his tongue out to finally take one of your digit in hhis mouth swirling his tongue around it.

With a pop, he released it and grinned.

« Estos manos sexy que envuelven mi polla »

« I don’t know what that means but it definitely sounds dirty »

« A inteligente tambien, dios »

« Okay, what with you sudden speaking spanish frenzy ? »

« Quieres saber, no es asi ? »

You furrowed your eyebrows clearly not understand anything he was saying .

« Yes… »

« Queria probar hablar tu lengua nativa al desafio de tu pareja. Y hasta ahora, es divertidísimo »

« Ugh…Yay ! »

« No entiendes nada, Verdad ? »

Feeling completely dumb in front of his spanish, you shrugged.

« Can I just answer with « Te Amo » anytime you say something ? »

« No es que me importe pero no tiene ningún sentido »

You threw a mean glance at your boyfriend before letting out a long sigh.

« The day’s going to be long…. »

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

Later that evening you found yourself on all four on top of your bed, arms barely able to hold you up as Raleigh pounded into you for behind., firmly holding your hair to make you arch your back.

« Te gusta eso ? »

His thrust were rythmed and fast. Moans were filling the room as more spanish profanities left his mouth.

« Cuanto amas mi verga ? Ven a arquear tu espalda un poco mas para mis »

He pulled your hair harder, making you do exactly what he wanted.

« Fuck, Raleigh ! »

« Si, grita mi nombre. Dejame oir quiente hace sentir bien »

He thrusted his hips more harshly, slowing down the rythm and making his pelvis slap noisily against your ass cheeks.

« OOh !!! » You screamed in surprise as much as pleasure.

« Tu cono se siente tanbien apretado alrededar de mi polla »

Raleigh leaned forward and kissed your back, carrying on thrusting into you hard.

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

The time for resting came and Raleigh brought you a warm towel to clean yourself up as well as drinks and snack so you wouldn’t have to get out of bed. He then proceeded to pull you into him, cuddling the hell out of you.

« I hope you had at least some fun today » he asked stroking your hair.

With a giggle you turned to him.

« Well, I didn’t understand half of what you said but, yeah, I had fun. Especially the last hour.

« Pervertida »

« I understood that ! See, my spanish is improving » you beamed prouf of yourself.

Raleigh rolled his eyes and cuddled himself closer.

« But in all honesty it turns me on so much when you speak spanish, I wouldn’t mind hearing you do it more often »

He quirked his eyebrows at your words

« Tus deseos son órdenes, mi amor »

#raleigh carrera #choices #platinum #raleigh carrera x reader #raleigh carrera imagine #playchoices

[jatavia-nicole]

https://music.apple.com/us/al

bum/at-least-we-tried/1627365840?

¡=1627366445

I wasn't raised around weak women, nor was I hurt by men my entire life. granted victimized in unspeakable ways sure but I didn't learn my relationship rules and roles from women. I was raised around men that beat their wives, had entire families yet still tended to all their hoes and side families with no one batting a eyelash... im talking the worst of the worst when it comes down to how to treat the person you claim to love and have started a family with.. my mom always talks about how great of a man my grandfather was... but left out how bad he beat my grandmother... he was always gentle and sweet with his kids and grandkids but not with the woman he loved... I studied that man. I wanted to embody what it meant to be him... drug dealing and all... especially the way he was able to treat women like the shit on the bottom of his shoe while they treated him like some type of messiah... till his death shit still to this day he garnered this unwavering love.

I set out on this journey to humble men. shit they know | treat them like shit they know i hate them to the say the least yet they have this magnetic pull towards me? They can’t get enough of being pushed and pulled almost… but with honesty. He was always honest he either told you or he just didn’t. Simple.

There’s this weird piece though because he always loved me he showed unwavering love and support to me growing up... in ways that i needed. so i kind of do the same when i come across a guy that i can tell is dealing with a lot. its weird tbh. kind of all over the place.

how can someone teach me how to love and build yet hate and destroy with no clear instructions on how and when to do these things. i never seen him cry so... i never cried.

sadness was met with anger and a angry me is a ignorant me.

here i am in a situation where i possibly love someone and i have to coach myself out of toxic tendencies because yes technically we aren't together but emotionally i don't want anyone else to see me as vulnerable as he has....or does... i also want to meet him with the same softness he meets me with i want to be those things he is to me and then some but i also don't want to lose my footing. i cant fathom the idea of having my feet swept from under me and landing on my face... but i also have these dark tendencies that yell GO FUCK SOMETHING! USE YOUR BODY TO NUMB YOUR PAIN! GO MAKE A GROWN ASS MAN YOUR BITCH JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN JUST BECAUSE YOURE THAT BITCH AND YOU HAVE THE POWER TO DO WHATEVER YOU WANT!!

but I cant? I don't want to... am i wrong for not doing these things that have nullified my emotions and made me numb? am i wrong for not wanting to completely disassociate from someone that has shown me actual patience and care? am i playing a stupid game?

having to constantly fight these toxic ways that have just festered and grew overtime is work. its really a lot of work. i don't feel like he understands sometimes…which can mean i don't feel like its appreciated... but i have to remind myself that this is for me... not for him... well in the moment yes... will it be in vain if this blows up in my face?? no because by the time I'm done with these toxic ideologies this will either be one of the most beautiful love stories... or one of the most beautiful mistakes ive ever made... my goals are in motion ive given myself a very narrow window and when I set my mind to something it gets done.

may 3rd 2023