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#it belongs on a shelf for preservation

sister-lucifer · 1 year

Text

The Things That Find You

Laughing Jack x Male Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Reader finds an antique Jack-In-The-Box at a yard sale, unaware that by purchasing it they would also be taking home an unwanted guest.

Content/Warnings: Dubcon elements, horror elements, LJ being a stalker creep (so some non con voyeurism), LJ is just fucking weird in this one, clown fucking shenanigans, big stripey clown dick and also long stripey clown tongue, comically large clown penis, LJ eats ass, LJ is massive so big size difference, tummy bulge, that dick should NOT be able to fit in you but it’s my story i can bend the laws of anatomy however i wish, LJ is very mean in this one and doesn’t really care if he hurts you, some degradation, unprotected sex, creampie, reader is kind of a slut boy (same), there’s a lot of build up but please it’s worth it i prommy (but also feel free to skip to the porn that’s totally fair)

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

A/N: Jack is british just fyi so if you’re like me and you read with accents there you go!

The antique jack-in-the-box was certainly an odd find at a garage sale, but there was no denying that it caught your eye the moment you saw it. It was incredibly ornate, clearly hand painted in all black and white and decorated with balloons and candy, not to mention it was preserved wonderfully for a piece that had, presumably, been stored in an attic for who knows how long. You could run your fingers over the edges and feel every detail of the tediously carved borders. You carefully turned the wooden box over in your hands, looking over the large, carefully painted words on the front:

“Laughing Jack In The Box!”, surrounded by all sorts of patterns and shapes.

Your face immediately lit up. Everything about this box screamed one of a kind. You could already see it sitting on your collectors shelf, safe behind the glass for you to keep and observe. You absolutely had to have it.

“Excuse me miss?” You called, looking around for the old woman who was running the garage sale. She got up from her lawn chair and made her way over about as fast as you’d expect from one as antique as some of the items currently being sold.

“Could you tell me about this jack-in-the-box?” You asked, trying to hide your elation.

“Oh, this old thing…” She began, looking at you over her comically oversized glasses. “It belonged to my great, great grandfather, Isaac, and was handmade by his father. It was given to me as a young girl, and I was keeping it in the hopes I could pass it on to my own children.”

You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness at the comment, but it seems the woman had no qualms about selling it.

“Well, it may please you to know that I’m an antique collector,” You explained in an effort to reassure her. “This is a beautiful piece. If you’ll sell it to me, I can promise you it’ll be safe on my shelf.”

“Oh, I have no worries about that. No one would pick this old thing up unless they knew what they were buying. So, what’s your offer young man?”

You thought for a few moments, weighing the box in your hands. You didn’t want to completely rip her off, but a one of a kind antique like this could go for thousands in the right place, and you weren’t looking to break the bank for this thing. Besides, who else would possibly buy it if you didn’t?

You pulled your wallet out and flipped through it, debating with yourself.

“How about…a clean fifty?”

And with that, a deal was made. Before you knew it you were proudly walking back to your car with the box tucked under your arm. You placed it carefully in the front passenger seat where you could watch over it, glancing back one last time to the now empty place on the table where the box once sat before driving away.

Immediately upon getting home you rushed to your room and swung open your shelf, eyes scanning over every row as you tried to find the best place for your newest treasure. It took a bit of rearranging to keep the shelf organized to your liking, but eventually you were able to place the box neatly right in the middle. You carefully closed the glass door and took a few steps back to admire your work. It was absolute perfection, and you couldn’t stop yourself from happily clapping your hands together. You deserved to applaud yourself a bit, after all.

You flopped down on your bed and grabbed your phone, eager to share your find with anyone who would listen, giddy with excitement. You really couldn’t believe how lucky you were! No one else would ever lay hands on a jack-in-the-box like this one, and now it was all yours.

As the hours of the afternoon dissolved into the night, you found yourself peeking into your room just about every time you walked past. You smiled wide whenever you saw the pristine box sitting on your shelf. It was especially beautiful when the sun hit it just right and made it shine. Your chest was still swelling with pride even as you climbed into bed for the night, able to peacefully fall asleep knowing that you’d filled another spot on your shelf today.

Unbeknownst to you, you had just given up the privilege of peaceful sleep.

That night you had one of the worst, most vivid nightmares you could remember.

You were standing in your room late at night, and everything seemed deathly silent, as if all the birds and insects that would normally be chirping outside had up and died off. A shiver ran down your spine as you looked around in confusion. You tried to turn on your lamp, but it wouldn’t come on. Trying the light switch yielded the same distressing result. You moved to open the door, but the moment you reached out for the knob it disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place. When you turned back, your bedroom window was gone too. Both of your escape routes had dissolved into thin air without so much as a sound.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as your eyes slowly wandered to the jack-in-the-box. It was the only object left on your now open collectors shelf, but it seemed to take up so much more space than before. It had captured your gaze in an iron grip, and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t look away. A terrible feeling began to bubble in the pit of your stomach, becoming heavier and heavier until you felt as though you may collapse from the weight, but nothing was happening. Something about the box itself felt so…malicious, so threatening, but it was simply sitting dormant on your shelf.

What were you so scared of?

That was the question replaying in your mind when you woke with a start, nearly falling out of your bed in your disoriented state. You shot straight up as you fought to catch your breath, taking a look around just to make sure your window and door were still there. Fortunately, they were. It really was just a nightmare.

A wave of relief washed over you as you slowly laid back down. You took an extra minute to catch your breath, silently scolding yourself for being so easily scared. You turned your head to look out the window, now noticing the very first little shreds of the dawn coming up over the horizon.

However, you noticed something else as well. Something that set off just a bit of unease in you.

The glass door of your shelf was open.

Not wide open, or broken, just slightly cracked as if it hadn’t been closed all the way and was now just barely ajar. You could’ve sworn you shut it all the way, you could even remember hearing the little click.

But we all make mistakes, don’t we?

That seemed enough of an explanation to calm you as you slipped out of bed to close the shelf once more. This time you double checked, just to be sure. When you were satisfied you went back to bed, finding sleep rather easily and this time without incident.

When you awoke some hours later you couldn’t help but question which parts of the night were a dream and which were reality. The memories of when you had woken up the first time were hazy, not to mention you were still shaken up from the nightmare. You tried to push it out of your mind, though, when you found your shelf securely closed and seemingly untouched. That was really all that mattered.

It seems you had the green light to go about your day as usual.

First thing’s first: you need to change out of your nightclothes. The stained band tee and baggy sweats would not cut it for running errands. You decided on something that would be comfortable for the day, but still made you feel confident and happy with yourself.

As you undressed you couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate yourself in the mirror, standing there in just your boxer briefs. You ran a hand over your sides, turning around halfway as you admired your own figure. It was a silly habit to have, really, but what was it hurting? After all, you were one handsome man. You deserved to be seen.

You weren’t the only one who thought this, and you certainly weren’t the only one who enjoyed admiring you.

Completely hidden out of your view, just how he liked, two achromatic pinwheel eyes spun manically behind the shadows of the jack-in-the-box. He only had to lift the box just slightly, so little that you would never notice, and even if you did you would likely brush it off as your imagination. Jack was skilled like that, able to slowly lure his victims into madness in such a way that they wouldn’t notice until it was too late.

You, though, had caught his attention in a slightly different manner.

You had piqued his interest the moment you picked up his box, handling it with a curious yet careful manner. For generations he had been packed away in dusty attics and grimy basements and long forgotten storage units, completely disgraced by the family line that was supposed to cherish him. But you had plucked him from that miserable cycle, dusted him off, and placed him carefully on your shelf in a secure little spot where you could see each other every day.

This was certainly unusual behavior.

That ache of contempt that he felt for nearly everyone else somehow had yet to creep in. On some level, Jack was just as curious about you has you had been about him, and now he was safe behind the glass to keep and observe you as he saw fit. Human bodies in particular had always been an odd interest of his seeing as they looked so different from his own. Seeing you flaunt yours so proudly with no one else around was honestly a bit amusing.

He watched silently as you slipped on your day clothes, turning around a couple more times in the mirror and adjusting your outfit a bit before finally deciding you were happy. He didn’t slip back down into his box until he heard your car pulling out of the driveway.

He sat there with himself for some few hours while you were gone. He had lost any sense of time at this point, used to spending his days alone in his box. Although, this time, there was one reoccurring theme that all his thoughts seemed to circle back to:

You.

What made exactly you so interesting, hm? He could venture a vague guess, but something was just…different. His affinity for humans had long since waned to nothing nearly two centuries ago, and yet a small part of it was beginning to stir in him once more.

It seemed this would require further observation, which was certainly no issue to him.

You, on the other hand, were blissfully unaware that you were currently sharing your humble abode. There were a few times when the events of the earlier night managed to worm its way back into your mind, but you always managed to push it away. You were simply being silly, that was all. It was a random occurrence with absolutely no significance.

Yeah, sure, that made enough sense.

By the time you were unlocking your front door, you had been lucky enough to truly forget about your nightmare. It seemed that you had finally calmed yourself and managed to stay grounded.

At least you had until you stepped through the door.

The second you had both feet in the doorway, the nightmare came rushing back in vivid flashes. It felt like your grocery bags were filled with cement, your limbs suddenly going weak. Your entire body had gone stiff, paralyzed with an indescribable sense of anxiety, the feeling that something was terribly, deeply wrong in your home.

You swept through the whole house and found not a single thing out of place, though every time you turned a corner you were sure you’d see something you didn’t want to.

No smashed in windows, no kicked in doors, nothing taken or broken, no other sign of an intruder. Nothing that would indicate anything out of the ordinary.

Then why was your stomach churning with the same heavy dread you’d felt in the nightmare?

You wracked your brain as you tried to figure out what could possibly be making you feel so uneasy in your own home, but nothing came to mind. Even as you put away your groceries you were mumbling and muttering to yourself, attempting to fetch any semblance of an explanation.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Jack was more than happy to watch you spin yourself into a tizzy over his little tricks. He giggled to himself when you paced back and forth where he could see you outside the doorway of your room, proud to see he hadn’t lost his mischievous touch.

You felt absolutely exhausted by the time you were trudging your way to your room, the subtle thrum of an oncoming headache already threatening to floor you for the rest of the day. You were so drained, in fact, that you had to do a double take to realize that your collector’s shelf had been completely opened.

Not just creaked open like last time, completely opened. If it had been pushed any farther, the hinges would’ve snapped.

You stared in disbelief, mouth hanging half open. You couldn’t even will yourself to move. It felt someone had just lit a match to the pile of questions that had been accumulating in the back of your mind. As if on autopilot, you walked over numbly and shut the glass door of the shelf. This time, you triple checked that it was shut.

Of course, this time you weren’t satisfied with that.

The first thing you did once you had thrown on sweats and laid down was go to order a lock for the shelf online. You even paid extra to make sure it would be delivered the next day. After all, the last thing you needed was one of your prized possessions falling out and breaking.

Yes, that was the very normal, rational reason why you needed a lock.

You sighed with exhaustion as you struggled to get comfortable in your bed, figuring maybe a nap would help you recharge a bit. By some miracle you actually managed to fall asleep, and by another you slept peacefully for a full hour uninterrupted.

Damn, you needed that. You actually felt better when you woke up, stretching and cracking your back a few times before getting up.

Suddenly your fearful reaction earlier seemed so silly! Why were you so upset anyways? Because of a bad dream and a dingy old shelf? How stupid. Really, you were lucky you lived alone. If anyone had seen you like that they’d think you were crazy, irrational, completely out of your—

The shelf is open again.

The fucking shelf is open again, and the box has moved an entire shelf down on its own.

The box has moved on its own.

You were suddenly feeling light headed.

You sat back down on your bed, your head already beginning to ache once more. You were dizzy, confused, struggling to find your bearings in reality. You held your head in your hands as you tried to take a breather. Part of you hoped that if you simply looked away then back up, maybe the problem would fix itself.

No such luck.

You groaned with frustration, practically stomping over to your shelf. You moved the box back to its original place in a quick and jumpy manner, as if it was burning hot and it would hurt to hold onto it for too long. This time you quadruple checked that it had been closed properly, and even threw a blanket over the shelf to cover it.

It wasn’t a fix, but it could at least give you some semblance of security.

“Stupid broken thing…” You muttered to yourself, speed walking out of your room to head to the kitchen where hopefully a snack could distract you.

Jack was giddy with excitement, unable to stop himself from snickering with smug self-satisfaction. It had been so long since he had someone to play with, and you were so fun to scare it almost felt too easy.

He would have to play his next cards perfectly, though, if he wanted to keep this up.

He didn’t mess with you at all the rest of the day, even when he really, really wanted to. You peaked into your room every time you walked by, breathing a sigh of relief when you saw the shelf was exactly as you’d left it every time.

Maybe, you thought for the umpteenth time, you really were just being irrational. You didn’t even have another nightmare that night, and when you awoke the shelf was still closed with the blanket untouched on top of it.

When the lock came in that day you wondered for a bit if you really needed it, but ultimately decided it was better to be over-prepared than under. You could finally remove the blanket cover on the shelf, feeling much better now that you could properly shut and lock it. You stored the key away in the drawer of your nightstand where you knew it would be safe.

For you, it seemed like everything was finally back to normal again.

For Jack, this was the perfect opportunity to increase his antics tenfold. He was becoming more and more impatient, wanting to badly to properly greet you, and with each scare he only felt himself grow stronger. He was feeding on your anguish, allowing it to fuel him until eventually he would be ready to come out and play.

For the next few weeks, Jack made you sure you found absolutely no peace. He was relentless and cruel, even by his standards. He broke your stupid little lock, and the two others you ordered after that. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d made you shut the glass door to the shelf again. Whenever you tried to cover him with the blanket, he let you know he was particularly upset with you by not only swinging the shelf door wide open, but moving his box right to your bedside table. That way, he got to see your terror up close when you jolted awake, nearly tripping over yourself to get away when you saw the box a mere couple of feet from your face. He made the house creak and jump every time you got a moment of quiet. Hell, he was petty enough to mess with the thermostat when you were out, meaning you got to return home to a freezing cold or blistering heat that was surely running up your bill. Speaking of running up your bills, it wasn’t unusual for Jack to leave the water running either.

The thing that got to you the most, though, was the incessant nightmares.

God, they never stopped.

They were almost all the same:

You’d be trapped somewhere familiar, like your room or a store you’d been at that day. You’d be completely alone and no lights would work, and when you tried to leave all the doors and windows would disappear. And every time, every goddamn time, that jack-in-the-box would be sitting there to greet you when you turned around. That was by far the worst part. Just looking at it would make you weak and nauseous, but you always woke up just before you’d collapse. Whenever you awoke from your nightmares you tried to take comfort in the sunrise beginning to slowly come up over the horizon, but deep down you knew the daylight could no longer save you.

Each day you woke up more exhausted than the last, too tired to go anywhere but not able to stand being in your house with whatever entity was making your life hell.

On the contrary, Jack was merely becoming more and more energetic every day. He hadn’t felt this eager in a long, long time. He was even feeling a bit bold, working up the courage once or twice to open the shelf while you were in the room. That scared you the most, making you jump with fear and scramble out of the room as fast as you could.

He knew you didn’t really have anywhere else to go. You could leave for the day, sure, but sooner or later you’d have to come back home. The stars must’ve aligned for him to find you, the perfect little plaything that could never really escape and gave him endless entertainment. You were certainly a funny one.

Although, there were times he enjoyed simply watching you just as much as tormenting you.

Countless times he’d find himself occupied with quietly observing you as if you were a completely foreign creature. He’d peak out of his box to watch you toss and turn at night, to watch you dress in the morning, and he even got to see you walk back from your showers a few times. You looked so soft, even from this far away, with so many places for him to grab and squeeze and wrap his massive claws around.

It was shameful, really. Or it should’ve been at least. Jack didn’t know the meaning of the word. All he knew was that the urge to reach out and grab you in his claws was growing stronger, and fast. His already minimal patience was beginning to thin, and he knew that soon it would run out completely. Watching you from afar wouldn’t be enough.

But that was okay.

He was finally ready to properly greet you, and he knew exactly how he’d do it.

That night you experienced one of the usual terrors, but this time you couldn’t recognize the room. It looked to be the bedroom of a victorian mansion with tall wooden walls decorated with dusty paintings that seemed to go up forever, closing you in on all sides. A child’s toys were scattered around the room, and the blankets on the bed had been tussled and pushed around. It was clear someone had been living here, but who? And why were you in a room you had never seen before?

And why, God—

Why was that jack-in-the-box still sitting on the shelf? And why was the crank turning on its own, playing the quiet, foreboding tune of “Pop Goes The Weasel?”

The feeling of dread that filled you was nothing new, but what you didn’t expect was to see the box slowly open as the crank continued to turn.

The movement wasn’t sudden, but it was absolutely shocking, so much so that you fell back onto your hands. You tried to scoot backwards, to somehow get away, but you couldn’t move. All you could do was watch as the lid of the box clicked into its open place, and a dark shape began to emerge.

It took a moment for you to figure out what you were looking at. The shape had sharp edges and moved slowly, in a controlled manner. It wrapped around the edge of the box and tapped against it.

It was a hand.

A massive hand with pitch black claws, each nearly as large as your palm, much too big to belong to something that should’ve been able to fit in that box.

A second clawed hand reached up, grabbing onto the opposite side of the box. They looked to be pulling up the rest of the body.

You watched, mouth agape in silent horror as the claws were followed by long striped sleeves, then a head and face covered by long black hair that fell past broad shoulders, until eventually the entire body had dragged itself out of the box. The creature sat there limply with its limbs bent unnaturally as if its own body was too heavy for it to move. There was one thing about it, though, that made your blood run cold:

Above a sharp toothed smile that was stretched impossibly wide were two achromatic pinwheel eyes, spinning manically behind a curtain of dark hair. They pierced your soul with their stare, almost seeming to glow in the dark.

There was a split second where you knew you were about to wake up, but the sight before you when you forced your eyes open was so similar to your nightmare that you weren’t sure it had worked.

That…thing from your dream was hovering over you.

Its visage was completely clear to you now, hair falling around its face and on either side of your head as it peered down at you. A single glance towards its body showed it was even bigger up close, easily twice your size. It resembled some sort of clown, in line with the theme of the jack-in-the-box, but nothing about it seemed comforting or humorous.

Your first instinct was to thrash, but you couldn’t move. The clown had pinned your arms down with its massive claws, not even flinching when you tried to fight it off. It took no effort to hold you down.

Its razor-toothed mouth began to crack open, and for a second you expected it to lunge forward and end it all with one fatal snap of its jaws.

But that didn’t happen.

No, instead…

It laughed.

The laugh itself didn’t even sound malicious or evil. In any other context it could easily be mistaken as an innocent giggle, a sound you might make when you saw something particularly cute.

That was what you were to Jack:

Cute.

But not in the way you’d think.

You were cute in the way a helpless, injured animal is cute.

Cute in the way that something you could hold in the palm of your hand is cute.

Cute in the way that something you knew you had complete control over is cute.

Cute in a pathetic, pitiful way that Jack loved.

He had waited so long to have his fun with you, he was trembling with excitement.

“Oooh, there you are!” Jack spoke in a lighthearted tone, drawing out his words in a playful manner. You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to sound like, but it definitely wasn’t that. You couldn’t decide if his oddly happy demeanor and sing-song tone with the cartoonish lilt of his accent was more or less frightening than the classic demonic voice of a supernatural killer.

Suddenly something uncomfortably wet slid from your shoulder to your cheek, and it wasn’t until he pulled back that you realized it was his tongue.

It was impossibly long and had the same striped pattern as his sleeves, moving in a much too articulated manner, as if it was another limb. You watched with wide eyes at it slowly retracted back into his mouth with a sickening wet sound. You could imagine it coiled up in there like a snake; after all, that was the only feasible way it should’ve been able to fit back in his mouth.

“You taste even better than I imagined…” The clown continued, taking no notice of (or at least not caring about) your discomfort. “You’ve been teasing ol’ Jack, haven’t you?”

“J…Jack?” You echoed in a whisper. You could hardly hear your own meek voice.

He only chuckled in response, taking great delight in hearing you say his name.

One of his hands released your arm, though you didn’t dare move either way. It slowly slid its way under your oversized nightshirt, pushing it above your chest and exposing your entire midriff. Both of his hands ran along your sides slowly, two claw-tipped thumbs barely scraping over your skin. Just a bit more pressure could’ve drawn blood, and it wouldn’t even take much effort on Jack’s part.

You tried not to move, to not even breathe, terrified that one wrong move would get you torn to shreds. You could imagine one razor sharp talon digging into your chest and dragging to your stomach, slicing you open in a mess of gore and intestines and oh, God—

You winced when Jack’s tongue unfurled once more, this time running from your navel all the way to your chest. It left a cold trail of saliva that made you shiver. You had to turn your head away, unable to look at Jack any longer, only to yelp in pain when you felt the sharp sting of a bite.

When you looked down again you were greeted with Jack’s smug grin.

“Pay attention to me and I won’t have to do that again.” He ordered, unblinking stare piercing through you. The tone of the demand was almost whiny, like he would throw a tantrum if he didn’t get his way.

“Wh…What the hell do you want?” You choked out.

Jack didn’t answer. It would be more fun to watch you figure it out on your own.

He adjusted you in his hold, allowing him to sit up as he moved to grasp your thighs. It was then you realized you’d neglected to put on any actual pants before bed, your lower half clad only in your boxer briefs which were doing very little to keep you modest, especially as Jack lifted your clothed bulge closer to his eager mouth.

“W-Wait—!”

But your plea came a moment too late, and any other attempt at words died in your throat when you felt Jack’s tongue run over your cock through your boxers.

“Shit—! Jesus Christ…” You huffed, “What the fuck…are you doing…?”

You dug your teeth into your bottom lip and watched helplessly as Jack’s tongue ran over you once more, making you tense as you felt your cock twitch. Damn, that felt good…

You really shouldn’t have been enjoying this. Especially not this much. You expected to be much more disgusted, and yet you weren’t. In fact, there was a little voice in the back of your head that was eager to take much more.

But what choice did you have, really?

Jack certainly had no intention of stopping, and you certainly weren’t going anywhere. Besides, for all you knew you’d wake up tomorrow and realize this was all a shameful wet dream.

You tried to relax a bit in his grip, which proved difficult when he was staring at you like he wanted to eat you alive.

Before you could blink Jack had suddenly flipped you onto your stomach, making quick work of your boxers with one swipe of his claws. The sound of ripping fabric caught you off guard, and everything happened so fast you weren’t sure what had happened until you felt Jack’s tongue run over the bare back of your thighs.

“Oh my God—!” You cried out, barely managing to muffle yourself with a pillow. You held it tight against your face, and even had to bite down on it in an attempt to stop yourself from screaming when Jack slipped his tongue inside of you.

It felt even longer than it looked, squirming inside of you and leaving absolutely no spot untouched. Every time you thought he couldn’t possibly go any deeper, he somehow did, filling you with his tongue until you couldn’t fit anymore. A shame, really; he had lots more to offer, but he couldn’t expect much from such a little human.

His hands were easily large enough to grasp your waist and hold you against his mouth. You had no way of knowing, but Jack was more than aware of his own strength, even taking care to make sure he didn’t pierce you with his nails. You’d be much for fun alive, after all. Although, this didn’t mean he didn’t have a bit of fun scaring you, occasionally giving a rough squeeze just to feel you flinch. He was thoroughly invested in tasting every inch of you, but that didn’t mean he’d stop toying with you at every opportunity.

Despite his hold on you, you couldn’t stop yourself from writhing desperately in his hands. You weren’t trying to fight him, but the sensation of his tongue wriggling around so deep inside of you was certainly an odd one. Your cock was already throbbing between your legs and dripping precum onto your sheets. There was a nagging urge to reach down and give your needy member some much needed attention, but you couldn’t force yourself to release your painful grip on your blanket. It was the only thing providing you any sort of purchase.

Jack was making quite the show of eating you out as well, moaning and slurping in a rather dramatic manner. He certainly wasn’t afraid of being noisy, though he made sure to stay quiet enough to listen to your encouraging noises. You sounded so desperate and needy, he just couldn’t get enough. You became especially loud when he began to slowly move his tongue in and out. He could even feel you squeeze around it, and it made his cock ache as he imagined what it would feel like to finally be inside of you.

You shuddered when Jack finally retracted his tongue, his saliva completely soaking your hole and beginning to run down your legs, leaving you now feeling thoroughly stretched but unpleasantly empty. He only let you rest as long as it took for him to close and wipe his mouth before he was manhandling you once more, this time flipping you into your previous position on your back. It happened so fast that just the impact of your head on the pillow made you dizzy.

When you looked up again Jack had leaned back a bit, looking down at his hands as he unbuckled his suspenders and soon after his pants. You followed his gaze just in time to see his own massive length spring free from his trousers.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

It was bigger than anything you’d ever even imagined, and suddenly you felt embarrassingly inadequate. It too was striped, and shaped in such a way that you could easily tell it was a cock but definitely not a human one. He laid it over your stomach and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sheer size. It was thick and heavy too, throbbing eagerly against your skin.

“W-Woah, wait, no way—“ You stuttered, attempting to crawl backwards and away from Jack. “That’s fucking giant, holy shit…You can’t— T-That won’t—“

“Shhhhh!” Jack interrupted as he roughly pulled you back to him, “Calm down, you whiny little thing. You’ll be fine.”

You only whimpered in reply, watching with bated breath as he spread your legs wide to make room for his cock. He groaned with delight when his leaking tip brushed against your waiting hole.

“A-At least be careful…!” You pleaded in a last-ditch effort to earn yourself some mercy.

“I make no promises.” Jack replied shortly, as if he was annoyed with your request. Maybe it was a bit cruel to be so careless, but surely you were being dramatic. Humans were meant to stretch, right? Surely you weren’t that fragile.

The noise that struggled out of your mouth when he forced himself into you was downright inhuman, followed by a string of curses and other equally nasty exclamations of the sort that could’ve barred you from getting you into heaven all on their own. Not that you were going either way at this point.

When Jack had finally filled you as much as he could, only about two thirds of his cock had managed to disappear inside of you. That was still rather impressive, all things considered, and it’s not like he could complain. Your tight hole squeezed around him in all the right places.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” You repeated under your breath as you tried to adjust to Jack’s size, a borderline impossible task.

“Foul mouthed one, aren’t you?” He scolded, grabbing your chin roughly. “Behave, or I’ll have to wash your mouth out.”

He seemed to find that hilarious, laughing to himself as if he’d never heard a funnier joke in his life.

“You…fuckin’ freak…” You spat back at him half-heartedly. It was hard to sound angry when you were trying to catch your breath after being filled to your limit. Jack feigned a gasp of disbelief at your lackluster insult.

“Naughty, naughty thing you are! Someone simply must teach you to behave!”

He squeezed you in his grip, testing his hold one last time before he began to pull back. You thought he’d stop halfway or at least start slow, but you were left speechless as he pulled out nearly all the way, leaving just the tip still nestled inside of you. You grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to brace yourself for what was sure to be a brutal impact.

“Brutal” was an understatement.

Shit, it felt like he fucking impaled you. You choked on what would’ve been a shriek when he pushed into you again, nails digging into his shoulder so hard it would’ve drawn blood if he had any. You felt unbearably full as his cock bullied its way back inside of you until it was laying heavy in your stomach.

Jack let out a shuddering moan that dissolved into a breathy laugh as he watched you struggle to keep it together. Your mouth hanging open in a silent scream and eyes going wide with panic was exactly what he wanted to see.

“Aww, did that hurt?” He asked, and honestly the condescending tone stung a bit. You only glared in reply.

He pulled back again, slamming into you with even more force than the first time. You could feel the bed swaying beneath you from the sheer strength. You could only hope he didn’t wind up breaking it after he broke you.

Jack was never one to take things slow, and as soon as he had gotten the hang of his thrusts he set a brutal pace. Each movement made your head spin with the impact. You really weren’t built to take something so massive, you shouldn’t have been able to, but you were taking it despite your body’s protests. You didn’t want to look down, unable to even stand the thought of seeing his gigantic cock disappear inside of you.

Desperate, animalistic noises spilled through your gritted teeth and out of your mouth. Each thrust hit deeper than the last and there were times you swore he was literally rearranging your guts. Of course you would eventually adjust to Jack’s size and strength, but that didn’t shake the fear that this encounter could land you in the hospital. This fear would fade as he continued though, the overwhelming fullness and ache soon melting into a pleasure like you’d never felt before. You grasped at anything you could, whether it be your sheets or Jack’s sleeves or hair, hopelessly clawing at anything you could get your shaky hands on.

Jack’s tongue laid limp out of his mouth as he panted, shamelessly rutting into you like a toy. You were nothing but a rag doll in his clutches for him to hold and use to his black heart’s content, and then some. While you couldn’t bring yourself to look down, he was more than happy to watch his cock thrust in and out of you. The wet squelching sounds made by each little movement were like music to his ears.

He knew he must’ve been hitting deep when he noticed the bulge he was making in your stomach.

Oh, you simply had to see this!

He grabbed your hair roughly and forced you to look down.

“Ahah! Do you see that? Do you?” He asked eagerly. He took your choked noise as a ‘yes.’

“You’re so small, ahah…I wonder how deep I can go before you break in two!”

He tugged on your hair once more, this time pulling it back to expose your neck. You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning as he dragged his tongue slowly up your neck before pulling you into a messy kiss. It only took one second of your surprise to allow him to slip his tongue into your mouth, and it quickly found its way down your throat. You were caught off guard and nearly choked, which only made Jack laugh against your lips. You could feel every little twitch or jerk it made as it explored your throat with no regard for your comfort.

Jack didn’t pull away until he could tell you were struggling for air, retracting his tongue incredibly quickly. You were coughing and heaving to catch your breath, which he apparently found very amusing. It seemed to send him into a giggling fit every time he scared you half to death.

Suddenly Jack came to an abrupt stop. You looked up at him in confusion, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was focused on something else. You felt yourself being jostled around as he shifted his position, sitting up on his knees and lifting you from the bed with one hand still around your waist and the other under your back. You were entirely supported by his hands now.

What the hell is he thinking?!

You felt him retracting once more, but this time he wasn’t moving his hips. He was moving you.

He showed no signs of struggle or even the slightest strain as he began to thrust into you again, your weight practically nothing to him. He was using you like a goddamn fleshlight, nothing more than a sleeve for his cock.

And honestly…It wasn’t so bad.

That seemed to be your breaking point, any sense of dignity you had before completely going out the window as you gave into him fully. If he was going to use you like a toy, you could at least put in the effort to be a good one.

“F-Fuck! Ah—! Jack, m-more…!” You begged, and for a moment a look of surprise flashed across his face. The last thing he was expecting was to hear you pleading for him so shamelessly, but it was a welcome surprise. His signature grin returned quickly, stretching from one pointed ear to the other.

“Oh, more he says?!” He replied, “More, more! What happened to ‘wait, Jack!’ and ‘you can’t, Jack!’, huh? Sudden change of heart?”

He was mocking your voice, degrading you so blatantly that he expected you to recoil at his nasty words, but instead you tightened around him.

Oh…you liked that.

He was more than happy to keep going.

“What is it then, hm? Or have you already gone too stupid to answer me? Aha, you really do love this!”

You nodded quickly in response, managing to push out a slurred reply that sounded vaguely like an agreement.

“Fine then,” he conceded, “I can give you more…”

And just when you thought he couldn’t possibly go any faster or shove in any deeper or make you cry out for him even more.

He fucked you like his current life and the next depended on it, each thrust slamming the headboard into the wall so hard it left a mark. Your legs trembled as you began to get lost in the pleasure. It all felt like a blur, a wonderful blur only broken up by the realization that you were much closer to your orgasm than you realized.

“Jack, J-Jack—! I’m close, I…I’m…” You couldn’t even choke out a single sentence of warning. Jack was more than aware of what you were trying to tell him, but he was content to let you pathetically struggle for words.

“Go on, why don’t you? If you need it so bad I won’t stop you.”

His attempt at an impartial tone was greatly hindered by his obvious excitement, a result of how close he was to his own peak and how much he desired to see you cum. He wanted so badly to see you make a mess for him, to feel you spasm around him and know that he was the one who brought you to that.

“Oh, please—!” You whined, “Please, please, please…”

You had no idea what you were begging for. You didn’t have to, though, because it seems like your pleas worked anyways. Every muscle in your body tensed on instinct, your back arching up into Jack and one last high pitched cry managing to leave your throat as you came. The force of your orgasm hit you like a truck, more intense and prolonged than any other you’d had, helpfully hastened by Jack’s increasingly erratic thrusts.

“Ahah, you squeezed so tight!” He gushed, “You feel so, so good…”

Faster, faster, faster, he had to go faster. He was so close, so close. He had to fill you, he had to. He had to see his cum dripping out of you and to know that he’d filled you with all he had and you had to be filled.

He went silent for a split second, and you knew what you were in for when his hips stuttered before going still, but you weren’t ready for the sheer amount of cum he pumped into you. He held you on his cock until he was completely done, continuing to make small ruts with his hips until he’d ridden out his orgasm to the end. There simply wasn’t room for it all inside of you, but even as it flowed out of you and down your legs and onto your sheets he continued to spill into you. You’d gone limp in his hands by the time he was done.

You barely processed the feeling of being laid back down on your bed, but you definitely winced when Jack pulled out of you. Damn, you were already sore. Not to mention your forehead was drenched with a thick layer of sweat and your thighs were soaked with a multitude of bodily fluids that you were trying not to think about right now.

You managed to crack an eye open when you heard Jack snickering.

“Tired already? A shame. I had fun.” He said casually, as if the both of you had just returned from an outing and he hadn’t practically jumped you in your own home. Your only answer was an exhausted sigh.

Jack cocked his head to the side as he stared down at you. Were you really so worn out already? He wasn’t tired at all! Then again, “tired” wasn’t really something he felt…

Humans are so strange.

He laid down beside you and draped an arm over you. When he leaned in you expected him to lick you again, but instead he brought you into a kiss. An actual kiss, the first real gesture of affection he’d given you, even if it was rather brief. He pulled away to nestle his face into the crook of your neck, and you could feel his laughter against your skin.

“You’re a funny one, do you know that? I hope I get to play with you a lot more…”

Oh, fuck.

He wasn’t leaving, was he?

#creepypasta #creepypasta smut #creepypasta x reader #male reader #laughing jack #laughing jack x reader #laughing jack smut #clown fucker #creepypasta x male reader #laughing jack x male reader #laughing jack x you #creepypasta x reader smut #laughing jack x reader smut #tw dubcon #tw dubious consent

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obae-me · 7 months

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The Brothers and their Nightmares

I was going to post this for Halloween, but things came up as they always do and I couldn't get to finishing it until now. Enjoy the late angst and spoops!

These are just dream scenarios I imagined the Brothers would suffer with, connected to both their Sin and the personal things they struggle with. Most of it is symbolic but could still be triggering for some.

TW: Hurt/No Comfort, Violent Images, Death, Blood, Angst, Nightmare Scenarios, Burning, Broken Bones, Disturbing Scenes that may upset readers. As Always, Read Safely.

Lucifer:

Displayed in a box. Preserved. Hung on a shelf for all to see. Trapped in a clear case with giant pins puncturing his wings and limbs in place. A perfect specimen.

The pain is immense. The torture almost unbearable, but this is where he belongs, right? To be shown off with Pride? To weather any struggles and pain to shine ever brighter in the light? A diamond only need be pressurized, cut, and polished before it's valuable.

Blurry faces of demons and angels and humans alike all pass him by, pointing at him and observing him with awe, sometimes fear, but nothing more. A living piece of art. He's searching for any familiarity amongst the crowd. The people he loves the most, the people he wants to shine for above all, the people he's suffering for!

Please! Give him a reason to endure this crucifixion! Prove to him that this is worth it! Let him know that he's enough! This prison must mean something! Don't say it was all for nothing! Everything he's worked for! Everything he's lamented over, toiled for! Look at him! Appreciate him!

But no one ever comes.

In the end he's left alone. The pins push deeper. The blood dripping from his eyes.

Just a caged butterfly.

Mammon:

Glistening palms. Shimmering faces. Gold as far as the eye can see. A perfect shining kingdom. Frozen lifeless subjects. This isn't what he wanted.

Come on, Belphie. Beel? What about you Asmo?... Satan?... No... Levi, please... Hells no... Lucifer!

Unmoving metal lips match each stiff jeweled eye. His hands... He- he had only touched them. That was all he did. Right? All he had done was love them. The Greed had become too much. In his ambition for glory, his corrupted embrace had tainted his family past the flesh. Motionless mannequins, that's all they were now. Cursed to shine till the end of time. His treasures that he had always craved.

Was this what he had wanted all along? No! He had created this all for his family! His friends! His loved ones! They were to all to gimmer with him! Not leave him alone! He did this. He always took things too far. Steal and cheat and lie until nothing remained! Rotten scum! Why couldn't he just listen? Why couldn't he just be better?! Give him a second chance... please. He can be better... Someone say something...

A destiny written in stone. Take. Even the lives of his brothers.

No matter how hard he tries, he only makes things worse.

Surrounded by the Fool's gold.

Levi:

Clanging, burning chains. There's a constant deafening buzzing in the air, the chatter of thousands of people. The voices rise and fall in rhythm, like the beating of war drums, or the increasing pace of his heart. He can't think, he can hardly see, and he can't breathe.

Millions of shining eyes stare down at his restrained body in the middle of a stadium. The blinding gazes singe his body, his skin melting off his bones. He's not the only one at the center of attention. Other people, other contestants are here to play the same game. Win, and get everything you ever dreamed. Lose, and be forced to burn with Envy and shame.

Every failed attempt of his makes the arena hotter. The infernal heat spills from the breaths of the crowd sharing his weaknesses to the world. They give his competitors the advantage, kicking him while he's down. The thrumming gets faster. It's not fair! He's trying so hard! Was he just doomed from the start? Was he born a failure? Hated by the universe since the moment of conception?! Is that why he's never good enough? Is that why all his brothers get to move on without him?!

His dreams always just out of reach. He's not good enough to be loved.

The bitterness eats him up from the inside.

Till he's melted into a pile of nothing.

Satan:

A mess of strings. The curtain is drawn. The show begins! It's the same routine day after day after day after day-- He can't take this any more!

He doesn't even understand this masquerade! The story he's forced to play out is gibberish, some fickle plot he can't even begin to fathom. Everything is foreign to him. The audience, the dance, his body, his Wrath. None of it is recognizable. And they chuckle like they know, like they enjoy his ignorance. Limbs are pulled in any direction the strings choose. Bones broken, lips sealed shut, he's pushed to the brink of oblivion once again.

But he worked so hard! Everything he's read, everything he learned, so he could stop feeling like this! He's not just a hollow doll, controlled by someone else's ambitions! He has thoughts, he has feelings! He might... not fully understand them yet, but he's trying! Tell him he's smart, that he's strong, that he's his own person! Let him stand on his own!

But only his mind is allowed to scream as the congregation watches.

A wicked dance until the strings are snipped. His opportunity to be independent. But instead, he falls into a lifeless heap on the floor.

Nothing without someone else.

The poor wooden plaything will never be real.

Asmo:

An endless winding labyrinth of mirrors. He runs, panting and crying as he tries to find his way through the illusions. Make it stop! Let him have peace!

The creatures are invisible to his normal eyes, only showing up in the reflections of the mirrors surrounding him. There's hundreds of them at least, crawling over each other to get to him. They don't even make a sound, silently scrambling towards him. An amalgamation of Lust. Each time they grab him, they take something precious from him. His fingernails, strands of his hair, his beautiful lips, the blush from his cheeks. They rip off of him as easily as tearing away a puzzle piece.

They're stripping him of his beauty bit by bit! How is he supposed to be loved like this?! If he's not gorgeous, than what is he? He has nothing left! This is all he has! He's not strong, or smart, or powerful! His physical charm is all he has! Please, leave him alone! He's supposed to be a jewel! That's all anyone ever sees him as!

He can't bear to look at himself. Every time he glances he's slightly different. Until he no longer recognizes the humanoid shell in the mirror. But he has no choice to keep looking if he wants to keep an eye on the monsters pursuing him.

A single fumble.

It's rather quick and painless as the souls each take what they want from him.

And leave him broken in shards on the floor.

Beel:

Screams echo from every direction. Buildings crumble as the earth shakes and the air hums. A moving living black cloud sweeps through the town. Where's his family? He has to help.

The sky a vast pool of crimson as the Celestial Sun and Demonic Moon cross paths and cast a torrent of blood down onto the merging realms. The ground beneath them all trembles, growling. It's Gluttonous. Every person he tries to save is always just too far away. They either get consumed from the plague of insects or fall into the gaping maws of the starving earth. And he still can't find his family.

Why? Why is this happening? Why isn't he strong enough to save anyone?! All the workouts, all the training, pushing his muscles stronger than any demon ever has, all so he can quit feeling so useless! He told himself he would be ready to take on anything! Even an entire army if he had to, just so he could save somebody for once! Lilith... Belphie… everyone... he's sorry... Sorry he's so weak. This is his fault.

The foundation beneath his feet begins to crumble.

His wings feel far too fragile to fly.

It makes sense that in the End of Days, no one would be there to save him.

He didn't deserve it.

Belphie:

There's something rotten in his chest. It feels like a pit in his soul, growing larger with every passing second. The sensation is agonizing.

It's something no one can see, but something he feels with every breath. It's very slowly stripping him of everything he is. His love, his memories, his desires... He needs to go find help. The House is laid out all wrong. Doors lead to where they shouldn't, hallways bend in the wrong directions. His house doesn't even feel like home anymore. Every step feels harder than it should. The supposedly easy task of getting help seeming more like an impossible feat. This rot is more than just Sloth. It takes what seems like hours to finally find his family. That's when he reaches out to them, trying to tell them what's wrong. But he can't speak for some reason.

Gestures and panicked grasping means nothing to his brothers. The desperation in his eyes goes ignored as most simply rub his head or push him off to the side, not taking him seriously in the least. But this hurts! He can't take the pain anymore! Someone help him! Don't push him away, don't treat it like a joke! Listen to him! Take what he has to say into consideration! He can't possibly speak over six other voices!

His efforts wasted, his energy depleted.

The rot ate away at his heart and left him numb.

And everyone walked away, leaving the boy who cried to cry alone.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me nightbringer #hurt/no comfort #tw: violence #tw: death #tw: blood #tw disturbing imagery #tw burning #tw broken bones

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gretavanfreaky · 2 years

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Hush

Hello, all! I don't know how much response I'll get since I'm a total lurker, but here I am offering up my first fic in the fandom -- a little friends to lovers one shot starring Danny. I hope somebody enjoys it! I have a bunch more ideas, but who knows what the future holds? If you like it, let me know. It's motivating to know even one person got a few minutes of serotonin from my silly stories. (This blog will be almost entirely NSFW and 18+.)

...

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Reader

Warnings: Language, smut, drug use, talk of panic attacks

Words: 12.2k

Rating: Explicit

...

Present...

It was the heat that pulled you from your sleep. The confined space of a tour bus bunk could be claustrophobic even for one person, but with Danny’s considerable bulk squeezed in alongside you, both of you breathing deeply in slumber, it was positively stuffy. As your eyes blinked open slowly, you struggled to orient yourself, to piece together where you were and why. With a sleepy yawn, you pushed back the sweat-dampened hair from your forehead and glanced around the pitch-black space, wondering what time it was.

Your gaze landed on his alarm clock which was perched on a small built-in shelf by your feet. 2:56. You laid there a moment more, considering rummaging around his belongings for the Nalgene water bottle you were sure he would have stashed somewhere, but doing so would have required the use of your limbs which were currently immobilized by his as he clung to you in sleep like a child with a teddy bear, your back pulled snugly to his bare chest and his hands clenched into fists at your waist, fingers clutching at the fabric of your thin t-shirt.

Even as overheated as you were, you couldn’t lie and say this proximity was unpleasant. His chin was tucked over your shoulder, and his chuffing exhales tickled your ear in a way that made your stomach flutter and flip - a feeling you tried to ignore.

But ignoring it became impossible when he stirred in his sleep and murmured some low nonsense into your ear, his arms tensing to draw you impossibly even closer, his nose burying into your hair as his hips pressed suddenly forward and - oh!

Oh.

Your heart began to jackhammer as you realized the full magnitude of your position. You’d experienced these sorts of dreams yourself; you were only human. Hell, a good deal of them starred the very man currently pressed so intimately behind you, two layers of thin fabric doing nothing to hide the sensual nature of his nocturnal imaginings. But that had always been a private secret, nothing you would share with a childhood friend who never made any indication he saw you as anything other than his best friends’ favorite cousin. Always around, always a good time, and a ready ear - never an object of desire. Your longtime crush on him had been a thing you shoved to the back of your mind, easier to pretend it didn’t exist than to deal with the rejection you just knew would swiftly follow if it ever came to light.

But now here you were, and that feeling you had stubbornly relegated to the dusty corners of your mind had been lit up by a spotlight the moment his breath ghosted across the sensitive flesh of your ear. And the feeling of him against the swell of your ass, so substantial, and so, so hard beneath his cotton lounge pants, made you want to throw all self-preservation out the window.

You laid very still, a deer in headlights, unsure how best to handle this with the least amount of embarrassment possible. For a moment you considered ignoring, hoping his dream would pass and you wouldn’t have to embarrass him by waking him. But your hopes were dashed even as the fire in your belly was stoked by more murmured nonsense - God you wished you could understand the words he was trying to say. You caught a hitch in his breath, a soft moan that thankfully didn’t quite articulate. Trapped in his throat, it cut off his exhale as he buried his face into the juncture of your shoulder and neck, the muscles of his arms contracting, fists uncleching to dig his fingers into the swell of your hip and the fat of your lower belly as he gave a real roll of his hips against you and, dear God, he was twitching.

It felt like a punch to your gut, the rushing wave of arousal. Almost as if it had a mind of its own, you found your hand wandering down and slipping below the elastic waistband of your shorts. It would have taken nothing to set you off, a few circles of your fingers against your clit, and you’d have been a goner, but just as your fingertips breached your clothing, you came back to your senses, and guilt washed over you every bit as consumingly as the arousal.

You chided yourself inwardly. You had no business getting off on this. Danny was your friend. Your very unconscious friend, and he’d likely be mortified if he were aware of his actions. You snatched your hand back, face colored in shame, and took a few shaky breaths to ground yourself, trying to screw up the courage to wake him, even as you struggled to piece together the night's events and make sense of this unlikely position you found yourself in.

Some hours earlier…

“That. Was. INSANE.”

Sam’s voice was too loud in the small living area of the bus. No matter how many shows they played, he always left the arena a little deaf, and his volume control was never much to begin with. Danny smiled softly at his enthusiasm, and accepted the chilled beer from Sam’s outstretched hand, passing it to you before quickly snatching the one Sam had intended for himself and taking a long swig.

Sam shot him an annoyed glance before turning to crack open another, too high on post-show adrenaline to stay irritated long. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you,” Danny replied, turning to you. “What did you think, Ace? Did we do alright?”

You smiled at the nickname, one he’d bestowed upon you in high school, a nod to your straight A’s and aggravating habit of always earning a point or two more than him on every quiz or exam. It was a routine that had genuinely frustrated him at first, but eventually became an entertaining gag that spawned the nickname which had stuck like glue, even years later.

You hastily swallowed, wiping a drip of beer from your chin to nod in the affirmative, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by the twins. “You in a hurry?” Jake joked. “I promise, if we have nothing else around here, we do have plenty of beer, Y/N.”

“I’m just thirsty!” you protested, good humor lacing your words. “It was hot as fuck in there.”

“Cry me a river,” Josh jabbed as he walked past them to grab his own bottle. “You should try standing next to all that pyro.”

Danny laughed. “Who’s crying?! You have it easy, frontman. We should switch spots sometime.”

Jake snorted. “That’s a no. I’ve heard what Josh calls ‘drumming.’” Josh flashed him a middle finger as he flopped onto the couch next to Danny, you tucked into Danny’s other side. You cringed as you watched Josh flatten and crush your pillows with an elbow and hoped he wouldn’t get drunk enough to spill any beer on them. You didn’t feel like smelling that all night. Again.

You’d been crashing on the bus sofa for a few nights now, ever since the guys had scooped you up on their way through Michigan and convinced you to tag along for this run of midwest shows. Family get-togethers had become few and far between since they had hit the road after graduation, and they said they missed you as much as you missed them. You found that hard to believe, what with their busy lives and trappings of fame, but it felt good to hear all the same. Jita had decided to pick up a few shifts at the hospital this week since they were in the area - a thing she was obligated to do from time to time to maintain her per diem status. Her absence meant the bus was marginally less crowded than normal. She had been the one to finally convince you to join the guys for this block of shows. “You can help me make sure Jake drinks water once in a while,” she had joked.

You weren’t doing a very good job of that, as it turned out. Jake had been drinking on stage, his cup filled with a bit more than water, and, by Highway Tune, he was already half in the bag. Now that you were all back on the bus and rolling to the next city, he seemed determined to ensure the rest of you caught up with him on cloud nine.

Not that it required much convincing. These hometown shows were electric, and spirits were high, the leftover energy of the night buzzing between all of you and lending itself to a good time. It wasn’t long before Sammy materialized a bag of weed from some pocket or another, tossing it wordlessly to Danny, as was customary. Although Danny indulged the least, he had a certain knack for rolling the best joints.

You sipped on your fresh drink as you watched him work, his dark brows furrowed in concentration, pursing his lips to blow a few short curls out of his line of sight.

You had switched to a vodka soda (probably a horrible idea - beer before liquor and all). Your head was already pleasantly swimmy, and it made it easy to lose yourself in observing his features as he carefully rolled the bud up into the paper, his pink, wet tongue peeking fetchingly from between his lips to seal it. You didn’t realize you were staring until, mid-lick, Danny’s eyes darted sideways to meet yours, apparently having felt the weight of your gaze. You turned away quickly, dragging Josh into some mindless chatter, trying to hide the blush you knew must be painted across the tops of your cheeks.

You couldn’t hide it from Josh. There was the slightest delay in his replies as his sharp gaze took in your flustered state. He chanced a glance over your shoulder at Danny, and you resented the upturned quirk of his lips as he put two and two together. “You still hot?” he asked impishly.

You stubbornly decided to play dead stupid. “No, I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Josh pressed. “I can turn down the A.C. Your cheeks are a little-”

“-DANNY!” Sam interrupted abruptly.

You knew you loved that boy for a reason beyond blood kinship.

“Danny, it’s a fucking joint, not your magnum opus,” he drawled insistently. “Let’s go!” His fingers snapped in Danny’s direction like a diner rudely hailing his server.

Danny rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Good things come to those who wait,” he insisted, but his hands moved more quickly as he twisted off the end and passed the goods Sam’s way.

The five of you soon found yourself sprawled across the living quarters, in various states of intoxication, reminiscing together about the childhood shenanigans.

The twins were engaged in a lively argument about who deserved the title of “biggest asshole” of the group as they recounted cruel pranks and forgotten squabbles. “How is this even a debate?” Jake asked, his voice finally starting to reveal his level of intoxication, syllables softened and dragged out, if not quite yet slurred. His tolerance was almost scary. “Do I need to remind you about that fucking nerf gun? You’re lucky I didn’t permanently implant it up your ass.”

Josh rolled his eyes, “Oh my god, not this again. How are you not over that yet? I’ll buy you three new guitars if you’ll shut the fuck up about me stealing your prize money 100 years ago.”

“No!” Jake snapped indignantly. “I can buy my own shit, now. I want you to admit you were the biggest asshole growing up. Then I’ll shut up.”

Josh pondered this proposition for a moment, nursing his latest beer. Finally he shook his head and answered resolutely. “No. I will not admit it because apparently you are conveniently forgetting the time you bet Y/N five dollars she couldn’t piss standing up.”

Your head snapped in his direction at the sound of your name, and the metaphorical bucket of hot water washed over you as the embarrassment of the memory hit.

“Oh, come on,” Jake protested hotly. “We all participated in that one!”

“Not all,” you heard Danny mutter. And that was true. You’d been about ten at the time, and, financial motivations aside, you were determined to prove that girls could do anything boys could do. When you had reappeared from behind a large shrub with piss in your Nikes, the twins had immediately dissolved into uproarious laughter at your expense, but not Danny.

“Who is all, Jake?” you asked, defending Danny’s honor. “I seem to recall you two jerks laughing the whole walk home while Danny kindly offered me his sweatshirt.” Danny nodded slowly in agreement, and you continued. “Pretty sure this is a two man contest. Well, three actually, but Sammy isn’t able to argue his case.”

Sammy had already smoked himself comatose, curled in an easy chair with his feet tucked beneath him, forehead resting on his knees, absolutely down for the count. Danny would normally carry him to bed in this state, but he wasn’t in much shape to be carrying anyone, his eyes red-rimmed and unfocused. His vibe was a little off tonight, nothing you could quite put your finger on, but he was even quieter than normal, and there was something vaguely cagey in the way his knee kept jiggling from time to time.

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Jake waved a hand dismissively. “Of course Danny isn’t in the running, cause he’s perfect and shit.”

Danny scoffed at that. “Oh whatever, dude. Just because I can’t actively enjoy another person’s misery doesn’t make me some kind of saint.” There was a slight edge to his voice that rarely appeared, but you were pretty sure you were the only one catching it, the others too crossfaded to pick up on his subtleties.

You were curious about it, though. This conversation wasn’t anything that hadn’t been rehashed a million ways over the years, and you couldn’t imagine what had spawned this simmering irritation in him. It had been a great night, and he’d started it just as bubbly and celebratory as the rest of you. You shrugged it off, trying to convince yourself you were imagining things.

“Really?” you asked him in a teasing tone, peering up at him from where your head rested beside his knee, lolled back against the sofa cushions as you sat cross legged on the floor. His eyes met yours as you continued. “You’re saying you didn’t enjoy Josh’s misery that time he and Jake swapped clothes at school and then Jake -”

Your words were cut off by Danny’s peal of laughter, his head tipping back and eyes crinkling at the memory before you could even finish it. You were happy to see his tension dissipate, even if only for a minute. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes, finishing your thought. “When they swapped clothes at school and Jake purposefully ripped the gnarliest fart possible right next to Jenny Jenkins -”

Josh jumped in, “--AND LET ME TAKE THE FALL FOR IT!” His glare should have left holes in Jake.

Jake was failing to contain a snicker. “Okay, okay, okay,” he replied tiredly, hands up in a gesture of surrender. But Josh wasn’t done with him yet.

“You knew I liked her, too. And I’m pretty sure half of Frankenmuth still remembers me as the kid who farted in Bio.”

Jake scoffed. “Of course I knew! How else was I supposed to get back at you for the goddamned NERF GUN?!”

Josh rounded on Danny. “And YOU! You didn’t stop laughing for days. Jesus, fuck, you’re STILL laughing! ‘No pleasure in other people’s misery’ my ass!”

Danny had finally managed to catch his breath and regain his composure. “Okay, touché. I guess sometimes I enjoy your misery specifically.”

Josh seemed satisfied at this. “Exactly,” he stated resolutely. “You just play favorites.”

“Aww,” you cooed jokingly, gazing up at Danny once again. “Is that why you gave me your sweater to tie around my waist? I was your favorite?” Your tone may have been jesting, but you couldn’t deny there was a real search for validation beneath it you hoped he wouldn’t perceive.

Danny returned your gaze with an expression of confusion, like you had just asked him if water was wet. “Of course you are, Ace.”

Are.

You rested your head against his leg and turned your attention back to the argument at hand, only to realize that Josh was boring holes through you with his eyes, a knowing smirk he didn’t bother to hide gracing his face. It kind of made you want to punch it.

You rose to your feet and grabbed Sam’s cigarettes right out of his shirt pocket, and he never so much as stirred as you fished out his lighter and moved past the bunks to the back of the bus, an area designed for storage and overstuffed with the various belongings of four men. You opened a window and rested your head against the frame to allow the passing wind to suck the smoke from your lips in short lived trails disappearing along with the miles. Watching the dashed yellow line speed past made you feel even higher, a little woozy even, and you closed your eyes against the image to focus on the feel of the nicotine seeping into your brain.

“Can I have a drag?”

Josh.

You handed it over and he took it with thanks. You leaned back against the wall, swaying with the movement of the ride, fixing him with a neutral gaze that he returned unblinking. Finally you spoke. “What? Didn’t get enough of a good look out there in the living room, cuz?”

He cracked a grin, the endearing gap in his teeth peeking through, and he handed the cigarette over. “When are you going to fucking tell him, Y/N?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” His voice was laced with disapproval. “Pretend it doesn’t exist and keep dancing around each other until one of you dates someone else again and the other is left miserable?”

You laughed out loud then, but there was no humor in it. “Danny has never been miserable about me dating someone else. He introduced me to my last boyfriend.”

Josh’s eyes lit up like Christmas trees. “I thought you had no idea what I was talking about.” You opened your mouth to deliver a smartass reply, but he cut you off to finish his thought. “Yeah, he introduced you to Troy. But that was a test, and you fucking failed.”

“Josh, that’s the stupidest thing I ever heard. Danny doesn’t play games, and even if he did, I’m not his type.” You handed him the last of the cigarette, preparing to make an escape. You were starting to really want out of this conversation.

Josh took it, letting it smolder between his fingers a second, head tipped back as he peered down his nose at you appraisingly. He took one last thoughtful drag, and spoke creakily around the smoke of his exhale, echoing the words that had been stuck in your mind for the past 15 minutes.

“Of course you are, Ace.”

You waved him off with a dismissive hand gesture and turned heel without saying anything else.

You meant to go back to the living room but, as you were passing between the bunks, you noticed the curtain drawn across Danny’s. You stopped and listened for a moment. There were still sounds of life up front. You assumed Danny must be sleeping, but just as you were about to head to the couch, you heard him let out a burst of air like he had been holding his breath.

“Danny?” Your voice was soft and hesitant.

“Yeah?” He responded quickly, and there was something unreadable in his voice that sounded…distressed?

“Are you okay?”

There was a beat of silence this time, and that made you chew your bottom lip. Finally he spoke up. “Um…yeah. I think so.”

Confused, you grabbed the edge of the curtain, allowing your fingers to curl around the edge into his potential line of sight. “Are you decent?”

Danny let out a tense chuckle at that. “Yeah, of course.”

You pulled the curtain back a bit to peek in at him, and his eyes met yours immediately, very large and very dark and, perhaps, a little vulnerable. “What’s the matter?” you questioned softly. “Can I help?”

His eyes darted sideways for a second. “I think I’m just tired.”

You frowned at him. “Danny.”

He turned his gaze back to you reluctantly, and you pinned him with yours, resolving not to break eye contact until he surrendered and revealed what was bothering him. He must have realized you could do this all night, because after a few moments, he sighed and dragged a hand through his hair.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, but when he saw the frown creeping across your lips, he continued. “I’m gonna be fine. I’m just way too crossfaded and trapped in my own head.”

The puzzle pieces suddenly were beginning to form the picture. His silence, his distraction, his fidgeting and snappiness. You breathed a sigh of relief, and your frown dissolved. “That’s what’s been wrong with you!? A bad high?!”

Danny smiled wanly in a self-deprecating way. “Am I that obvious?”

You shook your head. “No, actually. Not at all. I thought you were mad.”

“Why would I be mad?” he asked confusedly.

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m interrogating you, dumbass.” He took your verbal abuse with his usual good humor and an upturned tilt of his lips. Softening your voice, you continued. “How bad?”

He rolled onto his back, took a deep breath, holding it in his chest for an uncomfortable amount of time, and then blew it out in a loose raspberry. “Pretty shitty. I should probably give up weed.” He was speaking to the underside of Sam’s bunk now. “I dunno, these freak outs seem to be happening a lot lately.”

“Well,” you said, pulling the curtain all the way back. “We’ve all been there once or twice. Move over and tell me about it.”

Instead of moving to make space for you, Danny wiggled and swung his legs out of the bunk, rising to his feet with his hair wildly falling from its bun and his cotton lounge pants slung low on his hips, paired with an old cotton tee which was a bit too small and stretched tight across his chest. He tugged at the neckline uncomfortably, and gestured towards his bunk. “You get in first, Ace. I’m freaking out, remember? You trying to corner a wild animal?”

You laughed softly and gave his shoulder a gentle shove before ducking your head to crawl into the nest of pillows and duvet. His voice trailed behind you. “Would it be weird if I took this off? It’s fucking strangling me.”

You turned back to see him pulling the material of his shirt away from his body and willfully ignored the way your heart leapt to your throat at his request, but you had to admit your voice sounded a bit strained in your own ears when you choked out a lighthearted response. “Go for it,” you called out. “Half the world has already seen your tits, and I’m no exception.”

Turning your back to the wall, you kicked the covers to the foot of the mattress, knowing that, with the both of you squeezed in, there would be no need for them. Danny followed closely, pulling the curtain shut behind him and stealing one of the pillows beneath your head for himself. His pillow theft caused your hair to cascade into your face, and you blew at the strands with a giggle before he reached out to smooth it out of your eyes in apology.

Well fuck.

Goddamn Josh and his meddling had your thoughts in all the wrong places tonight, and Danny’s sweet gesture and bare midriff only made it worse. You shook away the flutters and let out a sigh of contentment, glancing around this tiny piece of the world that was only Danny’s. When you’d invited yourself in, you knew you’d inevitably be close physically but had failed to prepare yourself for the intimacy of being surrounded by the pine and soap scent of him that clung everywhere and all his little personal belongings that peppered the alcove shelves - the dogeared paperbacks, a journal and uncapped pens, some half empty packs of fruity-flavored vape pods that were illegal in most states but which he always managed to have a stash of — perks of being a world traveler, you supposed.

He was watching you taking it all in. You turned back to him and smiled. “Cozy,” you murmured, hushed voices feeling appropriate for the setting. It’s not like you had to speak up to be heard with his face inches from yours. Danny had been worried about feeling like a caged animal, and now you realized maybe you should have been the one concerned, but the realization came just a little too late.

Danny took his own quick glance around, apparently trying to see it through strange eyes. “Yeah, I guess you could say so, but it’s not home.” He sounded a bit wistful, but who could blame him? It had been a long tour.

“So…freak outs?” you asked in a leading tone. “Are you anxious about something in particular?”

Danny’s face grew thoughtful as he tried to put words to his feelings. “No, not really. I don’t know. Everything, I guess. And nothing.” Frustration laced his tone. “Shit, I just don’t know. I used to smoke a joint to clear my mind, but now it’s like…” His voice trailed off. You laid there and let the silence stretch, letting him sort things through mentally, not wanting to push him any further and stress him out. After a minute, he continued. “Now I just find myself way too aware of my own heartbeat and breathing and then sometimes it feels like I’m gonna fucking die.”

“That sounds like an anxiety attack,” you replied, all too familiar with the sensation.

Danny nodded. “Yeah, but don’t people get high to prevent anxiety attacks?”

You fought an amused grin, not wanting him to think you were laughing at him. “Yeah…but you don’t suppose layering nine bottles of craft beer and a shit ton of post-show adrenaline on top of the weed might distort the effects a little bit?”

“Ace! I did not drink nine beers!” he cried indignantly. “Who do I look like? Jake?!”

You cackled at that, but stood firm. “I assure you, it was nine.”

He pulled away slightly to get a better look at you, apparently trying to decide if you were yanking his chain or not. “You counted?”

You blushed at this, realizing you had shown your hand and revealed just how much you observed him moment to moment. You scrambled to cover. “Only so I could prepare myself for how much vomiting I’d have to tune out tonight.” But you made sure to lace your tone with affection, not judgment.

He laid back down, relaxing into the pillow. “Well that explains a lot.” He took another one of those deep inhales and held it, eventually letting it explode from his lungs in a noisy exhale.

You splayed a hand firmly on his bare chest. “Quit that. You’re going to hyperventilate or something.”

“See?!” he exclaimed, turning to you. “That’s what I’m talking about. Breathing is supposed to be involuntary, but when I get like this… it’s like I’m aware of every breath, and it makes me feel so weird.”

“Well,” you replied thoughtfully. “Stop thinking about your breathing. Focus on mine instead.”

Danny nodded once, and you tried to relax and breathe slowly and evenly, your hand still pressed to his chest. He raised one of his to cover yours and watched you carefully. Being watched like that made you a little self-conscious, so you closed your eyes and focused on the warmth and weight of his palm on your hand, the rise and fall of his firm chest soon falling into rhythm with yours. You didn’t mean to drift off, but you were hovering in that floaty space between sleep and wakefulness when his barely audible voice reached your ear, soft as a feather.

“Ace?”

“Hm?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Your reply might not have even been intelligible at this point, but you tried. “Me, too.”

Present...

You were pulled from your ponderings by more of Danny’s senseless murmurings, the tickle of his breath against your ear causing a cascade of goosebumps to wash down your spine. You still couldn’t make out any words, but his tone was more urgent, and the continuous grind of his hips against your body more provocative. Being already physically overheated to an uncomfortable degree, the added flush of arousal had you on the verge of spontaneous combustion.

It was now or never. If you didn’t rouse him soon, you suspected he would wake up with the evidence of his nocturnal activities in his pants, and then there would be no saving him from embarrassment. You steeled yourself and began to pry your body away from his iron grip, an action his sleeping self did not approve of, a pitiful whine of protest creeping up his throat but trapped behind his teeth.

Mood.

You succeeded in gaining your freedom and used your hands to rearrange your clothing into some semblance of modesty as you rolled over to face him. As soon as you did, his octopus arms slunk back around to tug you close, his face tucking back into the curve of your neck, his parted lips pressing wetly there. (God help you.) His bottom arm snaked under and around your waist, and his palm slipped under the hem of your t-shirt to splay dangerously low on your back. With a shock, you felt his top hand slide down the outside of your thigh, hooking behind your knee to draw your leg up and over his hip, fingers coming to rest heavily on the swell of your ass, his clothed cock nestled low against your belly, rock hard and unmistakable.

He may be unconscious, but this man was still a fucking sadist.

In a blind panic, now, you hissed his name. “PSSST. Danny!” His features twitched at the sound of his own name, but his eyes didn’t open.

You tried again, just a little louder. “Danny, wake up.” Still nothing. So you raised your hand to his face, palm hovering in hesitation for a beat until he pressed into you again in another desperate grind. You gasped at the feeling of him between your legs - Jesus wept, you were both clothed; you shouldn’t be this undone - and delivered three very light slaps in rapid succession to his cheek as you hissed his name for the third time. “DANNY!”

The gentle impact of your hand on his cheek did the trick, and a soft snort of surprise rang out as his eyes fluttered open, still unseeing in the darkness he hadn’t yet adjusted to. “Hm? What?” His voice was gravelly and thick as honey with sleep. You heard Sammy stir above, apparently having come back to life at some point and dragged himself to bed.

“Shhh,” you whispered, watching his soul come back to his body, the fog clearing from his eyes as he blinked rapidly, trying to regain his bearings. You felt the exact moment when he realized your positions, every muscle in his body tensing all at once in shock.

He couldn’t easily pull away from you, what with the lack of space and complicated tangle he had created of your bodies, but he did his best, letting go of your ass cheek and snatching his hand back so hurriedly that he smacked his knuckles painfully on the bunk’s frame. His other arm was pinned beneath your weight, but you felt his fingers abruptly leave your skin like a child touching a hot stove, and he canted his hips back, putting what space he could between your pelvises — which wasn’t much since you hadn’t yet thought to let your leg fall from his hip.

“Shit, Ace, I-I’m sorry!” he whispered, his face a pale mask of mortification. He was too embarrassed to even blush. You couldn’t stand it.

Your hand was still resting on his cheek from when you had slapped him awake. You placed your pointer finger softly over his lips in a shushing motion, your eyes darting up at the quiet creak of Sammy rolling over, and Danny’s gaze followed yours. You moved your lips to his ear and breathed out your reassurances on a nearly silent exhale. “It’s okay. I’m not mad, please don’t be embarrassed.”

Danny shuddered at your breath in his ear, and you were reminded of what his had done to you just moments ago. You had only meant to reassure him, and it hadn’t occurred to you that your presence would affect him when he was conscious. But you also knew the remnants of the dream still had his hormones raging, so he couldn’t be blamed for being overly sensitive to touch right now. You used your hand to smooth his hair back in what you hoped was a comforting gesture.

He pulled back to search your face, his eyes fully adjusted now to the low lighting. His gaze was confused, questioning… heated.

Wait a minute.

You found yourself falling completely still, heart pounding against your ribs like it was trying to escape, trapped in this loaded staring contest, and you realized you were holding your breath. Danny must have seen something in your face, because his bruised hand hesitantly came back to you, hovering at your hip, your shoulder, and finally your face, never actually touching, but close enough for the heat of his palm to be felt on your cheek. Your eyes closed against your will as you released the shaky breath you had been holding, your head spinning.

“Ace?” he breathed, one whispered syllable holding a universe of inquiry.

Your eyes opened as his hand finally connected with your face, holding your cheek gently as the tips of his fingers slipped into the hair at your temple, and you involuntarily leaned into his touch slightly. You realized his gaze was transfixed on your lips, darting between them and your eyes in a hesitant, wanting way.

Wait a minute.

Was this… was he… did he want…

No way.

Your brain was scrambling to catch up, struggling to accept what was right in front of you, ecstatic and terrified. Terrified that crossing this line would mean something different to him than it did to you. What was it your grandma used to say? Never trust a man with a hardon.

This was not the time for grandma’s voice to be in your head.

“Ace?” he whispered again, bumping his forehead against yours, his lips so, so close to yours as they continued to form his nearly silent words. “Can I? Please?”

And then nobody’s voice was in your head. Your mind was filled with absolutely nothing but him as you threw away caution and gave the smallest nod of consent, so small as to be nearly imperceptible, but it was enough.

You heard his quick intake of breath at your acquiescence, and he wasted no time closing the gap between your mouths, his hand moving back a bit to slide his fingers more deeply into your hair and cradle the back of your head as he pulled you forward into his kiss.

This was it. This was how you were going to die. You wanted to suffocate in this man’s mouth and never recover.

It took all of your willpower not to make any noise as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth and tugged gently with his teeth. This was the best kiss you had ever experienced. This was the best kiss anyone had ever experienced. He was consuming you in this slow slide of lips and teeth, and when his tongue slipped gently into your mouth, you wanted to fucking cry with the relief of getting something you never dared to hope for.

He tasted like the toothpaste he had used before making his escape to his bed — toothpaste and mango vape pods — and for a fleeting moment you worried he could taste the remnants of yours and Josh’s shared cigarette. But there was no room for self-consciousness as he enthusiastically deepened the kiss, gently sucking your tongue into his own mouth with a soft wet sound and replacing his hand on your lower back firmly. He used his other to tilt your head back, using his grip in your hair as an anchor, and pulling back for a quick breath before diving right back in for another taste of your mouth.

Your hands started wandering, mapping the planes of his chest, gently sweeping across the sparse hair there, ghosting across his nipples which caused him to jerk in surprise and break the kiss for a moment, eyes closed. He was trembling a bit.

Interesting.

You cradled his face in your hands, drinking in the sight of him. You didn’t know if this was the only time you’d get this side of him, and you needed to commit this to memory. His eyes opened, hazy with lust and, perhaps, a touch of residual intoxication or sleepiness. You guessed it was probably a mix of all three.

“Are you really awake?” you breathed, awestruck. This better not be some weird form of sleep-walking.

He gave you a soft, lopsided grin. “I think so,” he whispered back. “Are you a dream?”

You reached down and grabbed some skin at his stomach between your thumb and forefinger, pinching it somewhat harshly and causing him to jump and slap your hand away, jawline hardening as he swallowed the yelp you knew he almost cried out.

“Okay, okay!” he hissed. “I’m awake!” His eyes were twinkling with amusement and desire. You gasped as he moved the hand on your back even lower, barely slipping the tips of his fingers beneath your waistband, his thumb rubbing your skin. You wanted his hands everywhere.

Something inside you snapped then, and you finally took some initiative, slipping both hands into his thick curls, flexing your knee that was hooked around his hip, and using the strength of your calf to draw him tightly into the cage of your thighs. Before he could even react, you were kissing him, his mouth opening to you easily as you licked along his bottom lip, desperate to once again feel his tongue dancing with yours.

At this, he did finally slide his hand down the waistband of your shorts and squeezed a handful of your ass, his thumb sneaking under the hem of your panties in exploration. His hips rocked forward as he met your kiss with enthusiasm and your ears were graced with the tiniest little noise, a sound like he’d been punched in the gut and had the wind knocked out of him. You swallowed that tiny, dangerous noise like the finest wine and wished you were doing this somewhere, anywhere else. You would give anything to hear all the myriad of sweet sounds you knew he was pushing down right now.

His lips left yours, and he tipped your head back just a bit more before trailing close-mouthed kisses down your jaw and throat. To your shock, he gently sucked your earlobe between his teeth for a moment, swiping his tongue across before gently tugging it with his teeth and then releasing it to press hot French kisses down your neck. Your whole body jerked like you’d grabbed an electric fence, and you felt a smile in the kisses he was trailing down to your clavicle like pearls on a string.

He hesitated then. One quick nod of consent had given him the courage to kiss you, but you guessed he was unsure of his boundaries as he stared at the swell of your breasts under the thin tshirt, your hardened nipples clearly visible through the cotton. At some point he had pushed the hem of the shirt up past your navel, but had yet to fully expose you, and now you circled his wrist with your hand and dragged it from where it was still cradling your head. He submitted to your direction willingly, allowing you to drag his hand down your neck to your bare belly, then up — up under your shirt to cup your breast. You let go of his wrist to pull his face to you, and once again leaned in to whisper.

“Please,” you breathed into his ear, loving the way it made him tense up. “Please touch me, Danny.”

He blew a surprised sounding breath out of his nose, and his hand on your chest tightened, his thumb swiping firmly across your nipple, and you arched into it, trapping his dick even more firmly between your bodies which caused him to hiss an intake of air through his teeth. He pulled his hand back for a second, quickly wiggling it down between your bodies to readjust himself with a slightly pained look on his face. “Sorry,” you breathed and loosened your leg around his waist, but he released himself to grab your ass and pull you back.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Stay.”

You threw both arms over his shoulders and around his neck, which wasn’t an easy feat when you were laying on one of them. You drew him close to kiss some more, the soft hair on his chest tickling your skin. His hands were everywhere, just like you’d wanted, and before you knew it, you’d somehow managed to work your shorts down your legs and kick them down with the blankets.

His fingers were tucked into the front waistband of your panties when he spoke again, his whispers halting and unsure. “How far?” he breathed. “We don’t- I mean, I want— it’s okay if…”

His stuttering was cut off by a choking sound as you dragged one hand down his chest, your nails scraping lightly along his abdomen, and you smoothly slid your hand down the loose pants to wrap your palm firmly around his cock.

“I want it, too,” you whispered back. “So bad.” His jaw clenched as you gave him an experimental stroke, and you watched starry-eyed as his head tipped back and his chest heaved. The light of a passing truck caught on the beads of sweat that decorated his throat, and you couldn’t help tipping your face up to kiss it, giving his Adam’s apple an experimental lick and feeling it jump under your tongue as his cock pulsed in your hand and he fought to stay quiet.

To your delight, he finally pushed your panties to the side to do some blind exploration of his own, and when the pad of his thumb found your clit, you actually bumped your head against the wall with how suddenly and intensely your body jerked beneath his fingers.

“Fuuuck…” he whispered, his thumb slipping slick and frictionless against you. He started rubbing a somewhat firm circular motion against your clit, and you had to physically clap a hand over your mouth to stop from waking the bus. He grinned at this, a little feral looking, and you were reminded of his earlier joke.

“You trying to trap a wild animal?”

You wanted to say something clever, but you absolutely couldn’t. You didn’t trust yourself to open your mouth and not start spilling moans into the silent bus, announcing these illicit activities to the whole family.

Never letting up on the steady movement of his thumb, he lowered his mouth to your ear and whispered so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it. “You’re gonna come.” It was a statement of inevitability— a solemn promise. It wasn’t a question. And he was goddamned right. You were going to come, and probably sooner than he even realized.

You nodded your head furiously. “Mhm,” you squeaked against your own palm, feeling the orgasm already starting to sprout deep inside you like the shoot of a new spring flower popping from the soil to stretch towards the sun. You squeezed your eyes shut against all other stimulation, trying to turn inward to help yourself be silent, but Danny wasn’t having it. He grabbed your chin and turned your face to him, crushing his lips to yours when your eyes flew open, never letting his thumb go still as you trembled and shook beneath his ministrations.

It was rushing at you like a freight train now, and you had a fleeting moment of regret that he wasn’t inside you already to feel what he was about to do to you, but then any negative emotion disappeared in a flash as the flower inside bloomed, died, and blew away on the breeze, wave after wave of euphoria peaking as your body clenched and relaxed.

To his credit, you didn’t have to announce your arrival. Even through your utter silence, he read you like a book, the expressions on your face, the clenching and shaking of your thighs, the heaving of your chest and your iron grip in his hair were all he needed to know that he had succeeded. He lessened the pressure of his thumb and slowed his movements as you rode out the last of your pleasure until, finally, you grabbed his wrist to stop him altogether, the sensations too intense to be pleasurable anymore.

He kissed you again, softer this time, sweeter, pulling back just enough to make space for his whispers. “Fuck, I wanna feel that,” he murmured breathily, then lowered his volume when he realized he’d forgotten himself. “Do you think you can do it again? With me inside?”

You colored and glanced around, listening for any sign the guys might have heard that. Holy fuck. This was happening. You brought your eyes back to his expectant gaze and nodded.

There wasn’t much space to work with, and your options were limited, but Danny seemed to have ideas in mind, gently rolling you to face away from him and crowding you into the wall with his body. You looked back over your shoulder to see him hooking a thumb into the waistband of his pants and pushing one side down his hip.

You wished you had a better vantage point to actually see his cock rather than a vague shadow of it as he slipped his pants low enough to reveal it. He didn’t bother getting fully undressed, probably due to the fumbling and flailing it would inevitably require — not to mention the logistical nightmare you’d both face when it came time to figure out how to redress without leaving the bunk naked and risking awkward encounters.

He wiggled up behind you, big spoon style, sliding his knee between yours and grasping your calf. He bent your knee and pulled your calf back to rest on his bare hip, and then slid his hand into your panties to lightly scratch his nails through your trimmed patch of pubic hair, one finger running gently up the crease of your lips, but not parting them to seek that oversensitive place inside.

It suddenly occurred to you to feel self-conscious about not being hairless there, but it didn’t seem to bother him as he nibbled delicately at your jaw and then whispered directly into your ear. “Is it okay to touch you yet?”

You honestly weren’t sure, and he picked up on your hesitation immediately, withdrawing his hand and moving to your breasts instead, yanking your shirt back up and thumbing at your nipples in much the same way he had worked your clit earlier. His mouth couldn’t get enough of you, kissing and nibbling anywhere he could reach, and it wasn’t long until you laced your fingers through his and dragged his hand back down.

This time, he pulled your panties to the side, swiping two fingers down to your entrance to gather the arousal pooling there and transferring it to your clit before, ever so softly, giving you a slow, experimental circle of his fingers. You took a sudden breath through your nose at the intensity of that careful movement, leaning your head back against his shoulder and pressing your cheek to his as you grit your teeth against the onslaught.

He backed off once more, simply cupping your sex as he extended his neck —mouth seeking yours — and you craned back an inch more to meet his kiss, rolling your hips to grind against the heel of his hand. Now, that was nice.

He rocked his hand along with your movements, and before long you were turning your head and pressing your lips to his ear and begging for his fingers. “Inside,” you pleaded with him as quietly as you could. “Please — I need…”

You heard his breathing stutter at the request, a shaky exhale revealing his excitement as he bent the arm you were laying on and placed his hand just below your neck, pressing at your collarbones to keep you still and tight against him while his busy hand roamed lower, his fingers gently prodding your most intimate place until he found his target and slipped his pointer finger inside.

The angle couldn’t have been more perfect as his fingers naturally curled in the direction of your navel, and when he added a second finger, you nearly broke his nose as your head snapped back, but he was quick enough to dodge it, tucking said nose behind your ear to nuzzle at the pulse point behind your jaw, and smiling against your skin at the full body shudder he elicited.

He pulled his fingers from you now, and hooked them into the gusset of your panties, jerking them further to one side. Pressing your top knee a little further back behind him, he took hold of himself, pressing his hips forward as he ran the blunt head of his cock from your entrance to your clit a few times, getting the lay of the land on feel alone, since he couldn’t see.

You shifted and arched your back ever so slightly, pressing your ass tighter against his lower belly. As the angle changed imperceptibly, his cock caught on his target, and you both froze for a moment.

“Okay?” he whispered hopefully.

“Please, Danny.”

That was all it took. He pushed inside slowly, your body engulfing him, a delicious sting causing you to suck in a breath. He wasn’t massive, just on the larger side of average, but Troy had been… less than blessed. And it had been a long time for you, so the stretch felt intense and overwhelming.

To your disappointment, he stopped when he heard your soft gasp of surprise, hips stilling while he was only halfway in, presumably allowing you time to adjust. You were having none of it; you’d waited long enough, so you wiggled and sank back the rest of the way, pushing past the discomfort and taking him to the hilt in one movement.

With a startled jump, he dropped his mouth to the juncture of your shoulder and neck, sinking his teeth into the muscle there — effectively gagging himself on your body — but you could still feel his muffled moan vibrating against your skin. He hadn’t been ready for that. You had the presence of mind to wonder for a moment if the brief pause of his hips had really been for your sake at all.

You fought the overwhelming urge to move, not ready for this to be over before it began. But you couldn’t control the way you clenched spastically around him as your body adjusted to his intrusion — even less so as the exquisite pain of his bite mixed confusingly with the pleasure which threatened to overwhelm your senses.

You reached a hand up and behind you to stroke his face with your palm, and he leaned into your touch like a contented house cat, releasing your skin from his teeth to take a shaking breath. His dark curls tumbled over your shoulder as he tucked his chin down to place an apologetic kiss over the flesh he’d just abused. His free hand reached up to lace his fingers between yours, and he pressed his cheek harder into your hand as he finally started to move.

His hips fell into an easy, rolling rhythm — a push and pull that never caused your bodies to separate much but succeeded in driving him a tiny bit deeper and caused his cock to drag along that spot inside that made your legs shake and your heart accelerate. You couldn’t move much, sandwiched as you were between the wall of the bus and his undulating body, but this tight, controlled grind was more than enough for now. You were pretty sure he’d been on the edge for a while now, even as little as he’d been directly touched, and while you were eager to see what he looked like coming undone, you weren’t ready for this to be a memory yet.

His fingers tightened between yours and he dragged your entwined hands down your body — down to where you were taking him so slickly. Pulling his hand from your grip, he swapped their orientations, lacing them together again, but with your hand now over his instead of under. As he drew his pointer up to circle your clit, he murmured into your ear, “Stop me if you need. Or, show me what you need.”

You nodded your agreement eagerly, doubting you’d have to stop him now. The excruciating oversensitivity had passed. His touch started feather light and slow, but as you used what tentative leverage you had to add your own rhythmic movement to the steady roll of his hips, he deepened the pressure on your clit and quickened the pace of both his fingers and his pelvis.

The increasing intensity had you reeling, your chest heaving as you panted and bit back moans. He felt so fucking good, and you loved everything about being this close to him.

Well. Everything except for the fact that you couldn’t see him. You wanted to watch the pleasure dancing across his features instead of imagining it the way you were now.

Your hand squeezed his, stopping his onslaught reluctantly, and he slowed the strokes of his cock inside you slightly, turning his lips to your ear and placing a kiss to your temple. “Too much?” he breathed, and you shook your head quickly.

“I need to see you,” you whispered breathily, and you felt his nod of compliance against your shoulder before he withdrew from you with a hiss and backed off a few inches to allow you to turn over to face him. He started to reach for you, but you placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him flat, his already dilated pupils nearly swallowing his irises at your manhandling.

Also interesting.

There was a quiet clicking sound as his shoulder disturbed the curtain and the rings jingled against each other, his body positioned precariously close to the edge now. The bottom of Sam’s bunk was low, so you had to duck when you slid a leg over him to straddle his thighs in almost a lying position atop him, and you pressed your chests together as his hands came up to cradle your head and kiss your lips. You used a knee to nudge him to the center of the bed, being careful not to bump your head as he wiggled the both of you sideways. When you were settled, you began peppering kisses over his cheeks and down his neck. You opened your mouth as you reached his chest and sucked his nipple into your mouth, biting very gently and smiling into his skin at the way it made his hips jump off the bed.

You scooted yourself further down until his cock was at eye level, lying painfully hard against his stomach, wet and crowned with a single pearlescent bead of precum at the tip. You gingerly extended a finger to gather it, and his dick bobbed even at that tiny scrap of contact, drawing a gasp out of him as his abdomen flexed. At the sound of his gasp, you raised your gaze to his face, peering at him from under your lashes, and wrapped a hand around his cock to steady it as you wet your parted, kiss-swollen lips.

But he suddenly grasped a handful of your hair and pulled, not allowing your descent. You tried not to pout; he’d been so compliant to your every hesitation, but your mouth was watering for him, and you felt the denial keenly.

“No,” he gasped out desperately, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. He tugged again, and your body followed your head as he roughly pulled you up to bring the two of you face to face once again. You tried not to show how chastised you felt, but your sudden inability to maintain eye contact was a dead giveaway.

His hand quickly loosened its grip, and he soothed your scalp with his fingers. “Did I hurt you, honey?”

His whispered inquiry sounded anxious, and you were quick to shake your head, softly pressing your lips to his as proof you weren’t upset. You sucked his bottom lip between yours to lick gently across its plush fullness, made fuller by abuse it had endured in the course of the evening. “Did I do something wrong?” You whispered back, and his immediate baffled expression warranted clarification. “I mean… do you not want… you don’t like…”

His eyes lit with understanding and a grin crept across his face as his thumbs hooked into the sides of your panties and he started to slide them down your legs. “I like…” he breathed out quietly. “I’d like it too much. I want…” There was no need for him to articulate the rest of his sentence as he sank his fingers back into you without warning, causing you to shudder above him and curl in on yourself, pressing your forehead to his.

You kicked one foot out of your panties leaving them dangling off the other ankle and reaching for his dick as he removed his fingers and used his hands to once again pull your shirt up over your tits. As you leaned forward to line him up with your entrance, it brought your chest to face level for him, and he wasted no time attaching his lips to your nipple and laving it with his tongue in a way that made sparkles shoot across your vision — sparkles that turned into a full-on light show as you sank down onto his cock.

The sensation was completely different without the obstacle your ass had presented when fucking from behind. You felt so full as the head of his cock discovered the limits of your physical depths and bumped against a hidden endpoint — sensitive, but just on the right side of that thin line between pain and pleasure. You peered down at him below you and nearly came at the sight of him, his jaw clenched tightly to reveal a flash of his white teeth, eyes squeezed shut, and the tendon of his neck standing out visibly as he turned his head to nuzzle into the pillow beneath his head as if searching for something to bite down on.

You brought your thumb to his mouth, pressing it against that tempting bottom lip and dragging it down, and his eyes flew open as he sucked it into his mouth to cradle it in the dip of his tongue, tasting your fingerprint like a piece of hard candy. Your lungs started to burn, and you realized you were holding your breath, so you blew a steady exhale and started to move.

Your thumb dropped from his mouth as his lips fell open around the silent moan he managed to keep inside his chest. He panted instead, overcome by the feeling of you sliding forward and back in another one of the tightly controlled grinding motions that this limited space required. You rolled your hips as best you could without actually bouncing and braining yourself on the underside of Sam’s bed. Although, at this point, you figured that would be a hell of a way to go.

His arms snaked up under yours, and he grasped at your shoulder blades to pull you close for yet another heated kiss, his hips snapping up to meet your own grinding thrusts. He wasn’t silent anymore; a few quiet, involuntary grunts escaped his throat from time to time as your combined pace picked up, and the fire in your belly started to flare again.

You fumbled awkwardly, trying to reach your pussy around the obstacle his arm presented, and he removed his hand from your shoulder blade to rub the knuckle of his forefinger against your clit, your fingernails painting angry crescents onto his bicep as he dragged you closer to another orgasm with his efforts.

His eyes were round and luminous as he observed you, and you stared back, the deepest eye contact you’d ever experienced. A whole dictionary of unspoken words ran between you like ticker tape, but you couldn’t quite decipher them. You knew what you’d like this gaze to mean but were scared to hope you were truly on the same page. The insecurity forced you to break the staring contest first, not caring if it was cowardice, and you threw your hair back as you rode him, staring up at the ceiling instead.

You knew this was going to end soon, and, to your horror, the thought of never having this again had a lump rising in your throat. Of course he wanted to fuck you. What man wouldn’t bury himself in the closest warm body given the opportunity, especially when it threw itself at him while he was in the throes of an intense wet dream?

To your frustration, the snapping of Danny’s hips had slowed to almost nothing, and you glanced down at him sharply, only to find him giving you that same intense eye contact, except now it was laced with confusion and concern.

“Where did you go?” he asked on a soft exhale, the words shaking with the force of your hips as you continued to rock on him.

You didn’t reply right away. How could you?

Instead you responded to his question in the form of another. “What were you dreaming about?” you panted softly, thighs starting to quiver and burn with your efforts.

You saw his jaw clench again as your question brought the memory of the dream back to his mind. He closed his eyes a second, like a slow blink, and his already red cheeks deepened a shade as his Adam’s apple bobbed and the answer formed on his lips.

“This.” he hissed slowly, his hips starting to mindlessly rock up into you once again as he threw his head back. “Exactly this.”

You weren’t sure you wanted him to answer honestly when you hesitantly probed further. “With me?” you asked in a searching whisper.

His hips stuttered, and he lowered his eyes bashfully. For a minute you thought he wasn’t going to answer, and your heart sank at the possibility that he was about to let you down easily or, more likely, evade the question to spare your feelings. But then the fingers of his free hand dug painfully into your thigh, and he replied on a broken exhale that was more like a sob. “Yes… always.” And his eyes were uncertain as they searched your face, awaiting your reaction.

Josh was right. You were both so stupid.

All of a sudden, everything you had been denying all these years came into blinding focus. The things you had been too afraid to believe became suddenly so obvious, it made you want to laugh, but this would be the worst possible timing for that.

You realized he was terrified.

He was wearing his terror across his features like flashing neon, and all your fear of rejection was suddenly reflected back at you on his face like a funhouse mirror.

You felt the corners of your mouth tipping up in your joy, and he seemed to take comfort in this reaction, the insecurity in his eyes dissipating as you leaned down to press your chests together and brought your lips to the shell of his ear. You’d simply die if your next words were overheard, so your whispers were nearly inaudible as you made your confession, but the stillness of his body and the thrumming tension in his fingers told you he was listening intently.

“That’s okay, baby,” you breathed. “I think of you when I’m awake.”

At this his hips surged, and it wasn’t quite a whisper when he softly whined, “Really?”

You nodded against his cheek, screwing up the courage to continue your confession. “Shhh,” you hushed him. His trembling fingers had never left their place on your clit, and he started to rub a little faster now, channeling the suspense and nervous energy of the moment into his rhythm against you. “Yeah,” you breathed desperately into his ear. “This morning… in the shower… I imagined you, and I came so hard that—

Your babbling was cut off by a bonafide whimper sneaking past Danny’s lips, but he cut it off quickly. The little sound rang straight to your core, your pussy clamping around him in a spasm as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of free fall, his cock filling you so perfectly and bumping up against that exquisite place inside as his fingers drove you closer to the precipice. “Oh god,” you sighed into his ear, a carnal prayer. “Please don’t stop, I’m gonna come now…”

Just as you stepped off the metaphorical ledge and surrendered to your pleasure, you were suddenly jerked back to reality with jolt of surprise as Danny let forth a full volume yelp of your name that any innocent bystander could easily have mistaken as a cry of pain. You had the presence of mind to slap a hand over his mouth, pinning his head to the bed as his muffled cry trailed off into a guttural moan against your palm — still distinctly audible, even with you muzzling him. His hips had driven deeply into you and stalled, raising the both of you slightly off the mattress as he jerked once.. twice… three times… spilling hot jets of his release inside you as the shockingly intense waves of your orgasm milked him dry.

You managed to stay silent through it all, frozen in shock at his outburst, every muscle vibrating with adrenaline at the thought of being caught. His eyes were huge and round above your hand as you both held your breath, eyes locked and ears listening intently like prey animals in danger. After a few moments, the silence was broken by Danny succumbing to the need for air, his exhale bursting through his nose like a winded racehorse. He gave you a slight nod. It seemed the coast was clear, so you finally removed your hand from his mouth to allow him to catch his breath

He gathered you into his arms, embracing you tightly and pulling you to his chest to tuck your head beneath his chin, rubbing slow circles into your spine with the flat of his palm. You laid there boneless, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest and trying not to start wondering how this would all work out in the harsh light of day. For now, you just wanted to be held, and he seemed more than willing to do so.

“Finally.”

The both of you startled, Danny’s elbow smacking against the bunk frame as he jumped a mile at the sound of Josh’s voice cutting through the darkness.

“You know,” Josh continued, “This just proves what absolute bullshit it is that I get called the loud one in this band.”

Your face was flaming, and you wanted to melt into the floorboards and cease to exist. Danny looked sheepish and quite pink himself, his features arranged in an expression of guilt and embarrassment. Neither of you seemed to know how to respond, so you didn’t.

“Josh, shut the fuck up,” Sam snapped from above you, his voice heavy with the gravel of his hangover and muffled — like his face was buried in a pillow. “Why couldn’t you just stick your fingers in your ears like a normal, decent person, you little creeper?”

Josh snorted. “Like that would have drowned it out,” he retorted, and Danny rolled his eyes at that, probably realizing that he was never going to live this down.

“Enough commentary,” Danny finally said, “Worry about your own sex life.”

“I’d love to,” Josh clapped back. “If only I weren’t too busy listening to you two cry about each other for the past decade.”

Danny turned back to you now. “I did not cry,” he protested hotly, his face now just as red as yours. You patted his cheek with your hand as you hid your face in his sternum and contemplated jumping out of the moving vehicle.

“He’s a goddamn liar, Y/N.”

This time the snort came from Sammy. Asshole.

“Okay, enough,” Danny demanded firmly. His arms tightened protectively around you as he spoke. “We’re sorry for waking you. You have no idea how sorry, actually,” he grumbled petulantly.

You heard Sam and Josh shuffling and rolling over in their bunks as they snickered and murmured their good nights, and finally you raised your head from Danny’s chest to meet his eyes, your chin propped on your hand. “You okay?” he asked you softly.

You shrugged noncommittally before responding. “We are never doing that again.”

You immediately regretted your words as Danny recoiled from your announcement with the most wounded look you’d ever seen him wear. “No, no, no!” you exclaimed, reaching for him. “I mean not here! We need privacy.”

Relief washed over his face at your clarification, and he surged forward to kiss you, sweet and full of promise. You broke the kiss with a sly grin, pulling back a fraction of an inch. “I didn’t know you were such a screamer,” you murmured against his mouth.

“Me either,” he replied amusedly. “But don’t exaggerate. I didn’t actually scream.”

“Danny. You woke the whole bus.”

“Not the whole bus,” he argued. “Jake sleeps like the dead.”

A flat, unimpressed voice rang out. “Keep telling yourself that, you fucking banshee.”

Jake’s interjection sparked uproarious peals of laughter from all directions. You groaned and rolled off Danny, flopping beside him with a huff of irritation at being their entertainment for the evening.

There was a genuinely perturbed edge to his voice now as Danny shouted above the cacophony. “GUYS!” he bellowed, his voice a half a step deeper than his normal conversational tone. “Enough! You’re embarrassing Y/N. Like actually embarrassing. Go the fuck to sleep.”

The Kiszkas all fell abruptly silent in unison at this rare show of authoritativeness from Danny, and, to your shock, even offered a few murmured words of apology as everyone settled and chattered their good nights yet again. Danny rolled back to face you, reaching to draw you into another embrace, and you submitted willingly. You rested your head on his shoulder, listening as all the guys’ breathing slowed, one by one. When a few soft snores started to ring out occasionally from the various bunks, you started to think the coast may be clear enough to sneak out to your suitcase for clean panties and a stop at the bathroom.

Just as you were about to sneak away, Josh spoke up hesitantly.

“Danny?” His voice was small.

Danny gave a long-suffering sigh. “WHAT, Josh?”

“You aren’t coming for my job, are you?”

All the progress the five of you had made towards peace was entirely undone, hysterical cackles ringing out from all directions — including yours.

Danny’s head spun towards you slowly like something out of The Exorcist, his face awash with betrayal, and that only made you laugh harder, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. He finally cracked a wide grin and lunged at you, pinning your shoulders to the bed as he hovered over you, lowering his face to yours and kissing the giggles right out of your mouth. He pulled back a fraction, taking in your mirth-filled face, the cascade of his hair casting a curtain around you both.

“Keep laughing, Ace.” He was using that same authoritative voice that had worked so well on the Kiszkas. You realized that, maybe, it was going to work even better on you. “Go ahead and laugh now. Cause when I get you alone in some place bigger than a coffin…” his eyes fluttered closed like he was tasting something delicious, then he opened them, and your heart began to race at the absolutely profane way he grinned down at you. “Oh honey,” he continued, “We’ll just see who the screamer is then.”

#greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van smut #greta van fleet #danny wagner #greta van fleet smut #gvf smut

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heirenorm · 2 months

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So I used to be into vulture culture, I had bags of bones and skulls and other animal remains. And I was talking to the nature spirits near my house and all of a sudden I remembered all the bones I have and I asked if I should return them to nature, if there were spirits attached to the remains and if they were sad to be stuck in my room. The nature spirits told me I should return them to nature where they belong and I did, and I cried after because I felt so guilty for taking them from where they belonged.

I used to think I was turning their remains into art and honoring them through the preservation of their bones, and I don’t think that viewpoint is wrong, but after that experience I can’t help but think of all the spirits who were taken from nature. Deer who can no longer run through fields and nap in the comfort of the underbrush. Birds who can no longer soar through the air because they are trapped inside a house sitting on a shelf.

Has anyone else experienced anything like this? I’ve been thinking I’ll just ask before I take any remains but I can’t really rely on my discernment yet and don’t want to take a spirit somewhere they’re not happy.

#beginner witch #witchblr #witchcraft #hellenic deities #pagan witch #vulture culture #witch community #green witch #witches #nature spirits #nature witch #hellenic devotion #hellenic worship #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan #pagan #paganism #paganblr

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miniscule-meow · 2 months

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Isabell and the Lads CH 2: The Healing Process (2.4)

Writing Masterpost First Part | Last Part | Next Part Word Count: ~2.1k Warnings: Angst, blood mention, injury mention, nightmares, talk of dehumanization

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Isabell lays down on the tiny couch, letting herself sink into the cushions. Just for a moment, she thinks,, resting her head on the plush pillow and hugging her arms around herself. I can be cozy for a little while. She watches the movie play with bleary eyes, and her blinks begin to grow longer and longer.

She’s not going to fall asleep here.

She couldn’t possibly let herself fall asleep here.

Not in the middle of a gigantic room, displayed in the center of a coffee table with two humans lingering nearby. That’s not going to happen. No chance.

She’s just going to rest her eyes for one second.

---

She floats in an endless expanse of nothing. Well, no, she’s not floating. She’s still solidly grounded, her leg anchors her to this table, taking away all her autonomy, her ability to move, to run, to escape. From her grounded position, the ‘endless expanse of nothing’ extends out all around her. The dark open space seems to stretch on forever. This only punctuates the fact that she is entirely other. Ever since she was caught- rescued? – Ever since she’s been out here in the open, with the humans, fully aware of her, she has been painfully, unavoidably aware that she does not belong in this world. Even with the best intentions at the heart of the humans around her, this world was simply not made for her. At best all she could ever hope to be is insignificant. A mild nuisance for anyone kind enough to pity her, perhaps. Of course, she is already well acquainted with what ‘at worst’ looks like for someone of her kind. It’s cages, it’s dehumanization, it’s the act of endlessly being observed. Placed in a plastic box, on a shelf, to be a curiosity for all those who pass by.

She briefly registers Zeke’s form kneeling over her. She manages to blink up at him with hazy eyes, not entirely convinced that she’s not just dreaming this. He seems to move in slow motion as he reaches forward to drape a blanket over her.

Shards of thoughts float to the forefront of her mind as she shifts to pull the blanket close around her.

Warm.

Soft.

Smells nice.

Her mind dances on the blade’s edge of consciousness. Dipping into the void of sleep, and yet remaining vaguely aware of the waking world around her, that horrible, never-ending openness. The vulnerability of her position never leaves the back of her mind. Somewhere inside her there should be instincts, alarms going off. There should be some semblance of self-preservation to pump her with more adrenaline, to keep her going, to push her just a little further. There should be. But it would seem as though her supply has run dry, and then some. Her body aches, her emotions are sapped, she has to face it, she’s already grasping at straws here. She’s already pushed her body well beyond the point of exhaustion. The consequence of that is that now, her body has relinquished the reigns from the part of her brain that holds her rational thought, the part of her that is responsible for keeping her safe, out of the hands of humans. Instead, the control is finally given over to sleep. Once sleep claims her, it digs its claws in deep.

And it is not kind when it lets her go.

Isabell wakes with a start, some unknowable amount of time later. In that split second before her mind catches up to her, a heavy fear pounces on her.

Where am I?

The room is dark. It’s massive. It’s a space for humans, and she’s in the open.

No, no, no.

As soon as she attempts to move, her whole body is wracked with pain. Her leg throbs, her ribs ache. There’s something tangled around her, ensnaring her.

Stuck. Trapped. Captured.

Despite great protest from every inch of her, she sits up. If she had just one second to breathe and take in her surroundings with a clear mind, she maybe could calm herself down. She could assure herself that she is safe.

But she doesn’t get that luxury. Out of the corner of her eye an impossibly large shadow rises over her. A human. Its eyes glint in the darkness and she knows that it is focused right on her.

She’s hurt, she’s vulnerable, out in the open, and she’s been spotted. She does the only thing that sounds rational to her, she panics.

Isabell shoots to her feet, whirling around to face her captor. That’s her intention at least, unfortunately, she’s still tangled in the blanket. When she goes to correct herself, she places too much weight on her wounded leg. Her leg is of course tired of being pushed beyond its capabilities. Her leg is of course tired of her increasingly stubborn refusal of rest. So, her leg makes its own executive decision in that moment. It buckles underneath her weight, making her cry out with the shock of pain it delivers. Her leg demands rest and rest it will get. Even now, even one arm’s length away from the giant looming above her.

She crumples to the ground in a tangled heap, betrayed by her own body. The shadowy monstrosity leans forward, closing the distance between them. Leg or no leg, she’s not getting swept up into a massive hand today. She scrambles, kicking herself free from the blanket, and shoving herself backwards. She foolishly attempts to secure her footing once more. The effort is fruitless, and painful. Her leg simply refuses to cooperate.

“Hey,” the giant’s voice rumbling through her does little to calm her nerves.

She continues attempting to abscond. Her mind is focused on creating any kind of distance between herself and the looming creature. So focused in fact that she doesn’t see that she’s running out of table, until she’s already falling. She lets out a sharp yelp as she’s pulled over the edge. The human curses and instantly there’s a cacophony of sound and movement. The human lurches forward, much faster than a being that large should reasonably be able to move. One massive hand slaps down against the face of the table, the other swoops in beneath her. She lands flat against the center of his palm, knocking the wind out of her, but leaving her otherwise unharmed. Suddenly, she feels as if she’s falling in the opposite direction as she’s yanked through the air, entirely out of her control. His warm, leathery fingers curl around her securely. She can’t possibly just sit here and wait for him to squeeze the life out of her, she needs to act, now.

She has no weapon, she can’t escape. She twists in his grasp and sinks her teeth into the nearest digit until a hot metallic taste filters into her mouth.

The giant swears again, jerking his hand away sending her tumbling into his other hand. Before she can even think about defending herself, the human is ready for her. He clamps his massive thumb down across her middle, pinning her back against his fingers. The side of his thumb digs firmly into her bruised ribs. She sucks in a sharp, pained breath. He stands to his full height and strides across the room.

Isabell’s breathing staggers, her mind flooding with all of the gruesome possibilities of what’s yet to come.

“N-no!” She cries out, her voice breaking with panic, “I-I’m sorry. I’ll be good! I’ll be good, I swear!” She doesn’t want to go in a jar, she doesn’t want to be stuffed in the back of a dark closet without food or water or light for days on end. She doesn’t want to be-

A light clicks on, jerking her fully into the reality of the waking world.

“Stop,” Zeke’s voice is firm. He gazes down at her with wild eyes, his hair tousled, one hand clutched close to his chest.

All at once she realizes where she is, and against all odds, part of her stills at this revelation.

Then all at once she realizes what trouble she caused, and she can feel panic and dread welling up inside her chest all over again.

“I- Zeke, I’m –” she begins stammering out an apology.

“No,” his tone is clipped, “stop.”

Oh, he’s mad. He’s got to be. What is he going to do to her? He’s going to retaliate, humans always do. They only have so much patience, and she bit him. She’s displeased him so many times in the last two days or however long it’s Been. He’s got to be at the end of his rope with her.

He sets his hand down on the coffee table. Releasing his thumb from across her midsection, he tilts his hand so she gently slides off.

“Just… breathe,” he says rising and extending a hand to give her a gesture that very clearly says ‘stay there.’ With that, he walks off down the hall.

She blinks, piecing together the whirlwind she just went on, separating fact from fiction.

Isabell pulls herself onto the couch, gathering her discarded blanket. This doesn’t look like it belongs with the sets of doll clothes and furniture. Zeke must have made this, she realizes. He made me a blanket, and I bit him. A weird sense of guilt burns at the edge of her consciousness. She’s felt a lot of things concerning humans, but guilt was never one of those feelings.

Zeke comes back into the room after clattering around in the kitchen for a moment. When he returns he’s carrying a few things, but she can’t get a good look at what he has. He kneels down beside the coffee table.

“Drink this,” he says, setting a tiny cup down. The bright pink vessel is only slightly oversized for her. They must have gotten that today with all of the doll stuff.

She hesitates for a moment, looking at the cup placed in front of her with a dull suspicion.

“It’s just water,” his tone is flat, impatient. Right, of course, nothing gets past him. Great, now she’s bitten him, and she’s subtly accused him of trying to poison her.

“Sorry,” she obediently drinks the water, not wanting to upset him any more than she already has.

“Do you want to splash some water on your face?” He asks, setting down a small dish. As he reaches forward, she catches that his finger has a small Band-Aid on it now. She tears her eyes away from his hand, feeling that weird sensation of guilt again. She nods numbly and scrubs her face with the cool water placed before her.

“Better?” He asks after she’s dried her face off with a scrap of washcloth. She doesn’t trust her voice, so she just nods. “Here. Try to eat something.” The snack Marcus said he was going to make was resting on a plate close by, she didn’t even notice it before. Zeke slides it over to her. There’s a variety of things on the plate, some peanut butter, a cracker broken up into manageable pieces for her, some cheese, and some small bits of fruit. With a trembling hand, she assembles herself a small snack and nibbles on it cautiously.

Seemingly satisfied, Zeke heaves a long sigh, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. He leans his elbow against the table, resting his head on his hand. Her eyes are drawn back to the scattered pictures decorating his arms, his tattoos he called them. Humans are so strange, but she thinks she likes his tattoos. In a strange way, they make him easier to look at. Like, she can focus on this one small part of him, without having to confront the entirety of him.

“I, um, I didn’t know where I was,” she explains sheepishly to the picture of a broken wishbone placed near the middle of his forearm. “I’m, um, I’m fine now,” she adds, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders. This isn’t exactly true, she’s jittery, and she hurts everywhere, but the human doesn’t exactly need to know all that. It’s unclear whether or not he buys it or not, but he nods anyway.

“I’m sorry for startling you so badly,” he says quietly.

“It’s okay. Um, thank you for not letting me fall… I’m… sorry that I bit you.” Silence hangs between them. “A-are you… are you going to put me back, um, back in the box?” She stammers the question out, wincing at how small she sounds.

“No. Isabell, of course not,” he says, his voice softening.

#g/t #G/t writing #my writing #isabell and the lads #hurt/comfort #g/t hurt/comfort #i did not proof this - fk it we ball #this is subject to me touching it up a little bit here and there

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sacrificialblood · 2 years

Note

ok ok i ask

teehee 😜😜

It started with good intentions really. You were struggling to open a jar of jam and he was just passing through, on his way out to the yard to start his morning chores, and he almost just leaves you to it — everyone has to pull their own weight and you’re no exception to that.

He’s still getting used to you. Still doesn’t trust or even like you. But Mama does, so it has to count for something, right?

You look so pathetic trying to open up that jar and he just snatched it right out of your hands, even as you cry out indignantly that you did not want or need his help, and he pops the lid immediately, shoves the jar back in your hands and turns back toward the door.

“I loosened that up for you!”

He’s already out the door.

It happens often. A lot of foods are preserved and pickled to extended shelf life for when hard time fall on the Hewitts. You struggle with the jars that have been freshly sealed and somehow he is always on scene when you’re prying at the jar and tapping its side on the edge of the counter or slapping the bottom of the jar to get the lid to pop. And each time he manages to open it for you.

You don’t ever ask for help, he just does whenever he’s close.

So when you do ask for help, he’s almost wary of entering the kitchen, even as you hang your head and hold out the jar for him to take in complete and utter defeat.

To his shock, you kiss the cheek of his mask and shuffled back to your work, pointedly ignoring his stare and questioning mumble.

He just leaves you alone, doesn’t go to help you when you don’t ask for it. Thomas doesn’t understand why it was so different, why he was given a reward for his help that time and not some snappy remark.

He doesn’t understand but he respects the boundary.

You don’t ask for help often, but every time you do, he answers the call without fail and comes to expect a kiss. Thomas sure does love positive attention from you.

The more it happens, the more he realizes it doesn’t happen enough for his liking.

He starts tightening the lids on the jars you use the most at night before he wanders on up to bed. A ritual for him that continues even after you become partners.

He stopped using the bedroom upstairs when he was a teenager. There’s not much in there, just a bed and night stand and a tall dresser. It’s all shrouded in dust and bed made up with stale sheets.

He sleeps in the basement, in a little corner he made up for himself with a mattress stacked on top of a few wood pallets. He enjoys the privacy. The basement is his domain, no one in the Hewitt house dares enter his space. Only Charlie’s ever gotten as far down as a few steps before turning back up and shouting down at him from the doorway. The family may be involved in killing but he’s the one that butchers.

When his room upstairs turns into yours and then by extension both of yours after a few months, you turn it into a safe haven. You fill it with color and creature comforts. Blankets and pillows taken from victims and piled high up on the mattress even though at night you can really only sleep with a flat sheet and all but two pillows get flung off the bed.

You make shelves under the guidance of Monty and fill them with records and books and trinkets from tourist attractions you’ve never been to. You decorate the walls with little paintings of chickens you saw out in the yard or of cows and pigs. Simple little paintings of everyday life out on the farm, scenes that make you happy.

All that color and life and the unabashed way you express yourself through your belongings makes him happy and begins to add his own decorations to the mix.

They clash but you never say a disparaging word, only encourage him because this is his bedroom too, he should have a say in what it looks like, let him fill it with things that make him happy too.

You don’t realize that all your things, all those little reminders of you in the room make him happier than he’s ever been.

There’s often not a lot of livestock on the Hewitt farm. Maybe a few chickens and a handful of pigs at a time. Rarer are cows. Those aren’t as easy to steal. Still, Hoyt and Thomas are able to swing it on occasion. You live for the days when animals are slaughtered for food, excited at eating meat that doesn’t make you gag or push your meal around on your plate.

That being said, since it’s so rare, Luda Mae and Thomas teach you how to use every last bit of the animal.

You’re squeamish at first, seeing Luda Mae cut the head off a chicken or Thomas draining the blood from a pig. But you have to learn and show that you've learned and before long, you’re the one cutting off chicken heads and you’re the one making cuts along arteries to drain the blood.

You learn how to make bone broth, how to suck the marrow out of bones for broths or sauces or on top of bread, how to skin an animal’s hide or pluck a chicken’s feathers.

Thomas is quite proud that you catch on so quick. He huffs and puffs and rolls his eyes at first when the knife shakes in your hand. He wraps his hand around yours to steady it, walking you through where you need to cut. It’s simple to him, something he’s done thousands of times, second nature to him since he was a child working down at the slaughterhouse. He has to remind himself that it’s all new to you, that you didn’t grow up the way he had to.

If there’s not much to do, no meat to butcher or no chores to do, you’ll sit out on an old porch swing together, watch the sun go down and see the fireflies come out at twilight.

He likes when you read to him. When he was in school, he struggled with reading but he enjoyed story time. Sitting down on the class rug and listening at his teachers feet to the story of the day. He’s never heard of a lot of the books you find and neither do you, but on occasion you stumble upon a few classics. He prefers the schlocky pulp magazines and books you find to anything else, especially ones belonging to the western or science fiction genres.

It’s peaceful ending the day with you sitting between his legs, pressing yourself against his chest while he reclines against the headboard. You prop the book against your stomach and read to him in a soft voice so you don’t wake anyone up with your late night read aloud session. When you get too tired to hold the book, he will do it for you.

He’s a messy eater, hardly, if ever, uses utensils, licks his fingers clean and wipes his mouth with the arm of his shirt. It’s not a pretty sight. No amount of pleading or coaxing will get him to have proper table manners.

He’s the last one to sleep, first to wake up. While family dinner is never to be missed, breakfast has looser rules around it. People come and go as they please, grabbing whatever Luda Mae made and getting on with their morning. With all the chores he has, you’re not likely to see him much during the day, you’re luckier when he doesn’t have work to do down in the basement.

His hair is a damn hassle. No amount of brushing or washing or styling will prevent the birds nest that appears by the end of the day. You’ve come close to cutting it out of frustration one night while you were brushing his hair, you sitting on the mattress and him sitting on the floor between your legs. He doesn’t care much about it, he’s never held as much concern for his hair as he does his own face. Be that as it may, you don’t think he’s be too fond of your decision to cut his hair without telling him. You just stick to dutifully brushing out his hair, trying to get it manageable. Your hard work is always ruined though.

Rarely do you ever see him without a mask. It takes a long time for him to trust you enough to sleep in the same room together, let alone show you his face unobscured. He gets comfortable changing masks in front of you and sometimes you can glean a sliver of his mouth or cheeks or what’s left of his nose. You try to be respectful but your curiosity gets to you and you’re able to push it down, most of the time.

He catches you looking once and he freaks out. He doesn’t hurt you, he scares you, but whatever turmoil he’s feeling he turn in on himself, usually in the form of self harm. There’s not much you can do to calm him down and if you try to intervene chances are he will only get angry at you. His safe space is the basement, where he feels like he’s in control, a room that’s all his as grotesque and macabre as it is, it’s his. He will hurry through the house to get behind the heavy sliding door and to his sanctuary where he will not emerge for several hours. No one goes near him, least of all you.

He comes back up when he’s ready, cradling new wounds that you clean and patch up. You apologize and he accepts.

You learned your lesson for when he eventually comes around to taking off his mask around you for more than a few seconds. You look down at your feet, turn your body to face away from him.

You don’t know his true face for years. He has to bring your chin up to look at him and even then your eyes are closed. The o oh thing that gets you to open them are his fingers quickly skimming over your eyelids. It’s a leap of faith, the biggest one he’s ever take.

#thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x y/n #slasher x reader #my writing #🌙

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marshallpupfan · 3 months

Text

Marshall Merchandise Update!

Update #37... or whatever number I'm up to now. Either way, I've got a few new items to show off today! Some new, some old, and some I didn't expect to find!

First off, this Jumbo Gummy Easter candy, from "Galerie"! I just happened to stumble upon it while helping my mother with her grocery shopping. I was in kind of a rush, so I didn't have time to check if they made any of the other pups. I have to imagine they have some of at least Chase and/or Skye. It cost $5 (a little pricey, imo).

To tell you the truth, I don't know if I want to eat this. I might try to preserve it... if possible, anyway. It wouldn't be the first editable piece of merchandise that's sitting among my collection. Probably won't be the last, either. It's a good thing my folks never bought me a Marshall cake for my birthday, otherwise I'd probably try to save that, too. 😂

Next up... this plush! I actually found it while browsing around a Goodwill for something. Before I left, I figured I'd take a quick peek at the toy section, since they tend to have a few PAW Patrol dolls from time to time. I only seen a few of Chase at first, but then out of the corner of my eye, I seen this thing, somewhat buried under a bunch of other dolls. It was only $2, so... sold! :)

Funnily enough, it's actually quite similar to another plush doll I bought a few years back, only smaller. Now that I think about it, these aren't the only dolls I own that have a bigger and little version. I wonder why they do that sometimes? Hm...

Moving on, here's yet another plush doll I found! It's by TY, unless I'm mistaken. This one was found at a flea market, although it was a tad more expensive ($5). However, what's funny is that...

...it, too has a bigger version! And a smaller one, as well (I feel like these are the most common). It's like we've got the eldest brother, the middle child, and the younger sibling. An interesting set!

I was tempted to move the bigger plush for a better side-by-side comparison, but with so many dolls around it, I figured it was best I just keep things where they're at. Otherwise, moving it might give us something akin to a Marshall wipeout, and I don't want to pick them all up from the floor right now. lol

Last, and a rather unexpected find, I must say... a Marshall "Born Brave" ceramic coffee cup! To be honest, I had no idea this even existed until I seen it on Mercari about a week ago. Despite my best efforts, I can't find any indication of where this came from, who sells it, if it belongs in a set, if they made some of the other pups... nothing!

I believe it's official, since most knock-off or home-made products don't include stuff like this on the bottom. It says it was made in 2023, so that tells me it's not too old. Have any of you seen these in stores?

In any case, it's pretty cool coffee cup! I believe it can hold 11oz, which is pretty standard for these things. The picture, itself isn't the highest of quality, but that's no biggie. I actually wouldn't mind using it, since I still drink a lot of tea (and cappuccinos... too many cappuccinos...), but I hate the thought of it getting damaged, so it's going up on my shelf for now. Maybe if I can find another one someday, then I'll use it.

...again, IF I can find another. 😅

That's all for now! I apologize for the inconsistent quality and brightness of some of the pics. I forgot to turn the flash on for the first pic, no flash made everything pink around the gummy, and the flash made the dolls look too dark so I had to adjust the brightness in Photoshop. My TracFone camera just doesn't cut it sometimes... maybe I should invest in something better someday.

#PAW Patrol #PAWPatrol #Marshall #Marshall Paw Patrol #MarshallPawPatrol #Paw Patrol Marshall #PawPatrolMarshall

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wordsinhaled · 2 years

Text

pressed — a Dream-perspective Dreamling playlist

notes: so uh. this is basically... a response to neil's ask about dream & calliope's wedding, in playlist form, because... yeah. so... 12 songs for dream's vulnerability when it comes to falling in love. it's songs from dream to hob. it is... big emotions. the mortifying ordeal of being known. etc. etc. -tracks- ginger and pear - pressed nick mulvey - fever to form the staves - steady rosemary & garlic - i'm here fenne lily - top to toe roo panes - know me well jono mccleary - darkest light wolf larsen - if i be wrong tuvaband - unknown axel flóvent - forest fires liza anne - lost billie marten - heavy weather

- lyrics below the cut -

ginger & pear // pressed

bring me home pick me and press me in the big dictionary you keep on the shelf i belong nestled and swaddled in words, to preserve me for years and when winter arrives, i'll still be here and when spring comes around, i'll still be here pressed in the shape that you found me most beautiful paper thin and petals like laces, i wait until it's time to unveil me maybe now i'll be delicate at least for a season or two and when summer arrives, i'll still be here and when autumn comes blowing, i'll be here pressed and beloved, or forgotten that's all up to you paper thin and veins on display, i wait until i'm transparent and ready maybe now i'll be knowable i can learn not to ache for your hands

nick mulvey // fever to the form

'cause the very thing you're afraid, afraid of it keeps you clean but unclear - clean but unclear is the dirt that you're made, you're made of and that's nothing to fear no, it's nothing, my dear but how do i know what you're thinking? maybe i thought it before maybe that's why i'm at your window hear me at your door singing, "give me some more" oh, fever to the form won't you hear me at your door singing "give me some more"? 'cause you were never empty and we've been here before

the staves // steady

steady, steady, steady you steady touch our love so much, i'm sleepless rabbit in a snare, why you sleeping softly in your bed? when unruly wild blood is pumping, why you running scared? and the line will read that i was never here can you see from where you're standing and the line will read that i was never here can you hear where i'm coming from?

rosemary & garlic // i'm here

here we found a place to stay build a house in the woods you'll find it safe it's small, though the light comes in then you say that it has a fire within then you sketched the trees and a path underneath for those who leave and i am a lover and a friend to you a part of your palette, a shade of blue i am i am here here i am here and i have you grateful by my side you are all my colors and my light

fenne lily // top to toe

tell me i'm a time you'll miss feelings always change like this but you are all the words i need to explain myself, it seems so i'm changing all my days to make your nights won't you take me to your bed? i should have said i need you more

roo panes // know me well

well, you know me with that ancient gaze you strip me down with yesterday's eyes you know me as i was but see me as i will be and i still had a lot of growing when you took me and you shaped me with those hands you know me better than myself, make me better than i am you know me well, you know me well, you know me well when i think upon my past i see i loved you many years before you came in my hopes and my dreams with the wax and the moon wane what can i fear when i know that i walk by your side? you're the fortress within which i've got nothing to hide none can take me; i'm the tower the world couldn't fell 'cause i'm stronger when i know you know me well

jono mccleary // darkest light

you have been strong in my mind today my love is dying to be on your way why am i always drawn to the darkest light? it seems that i believe i can help it shine so let me see the lines upon your face invite me in to dance in your darkest place to dance in your darkest place can we dance in your darkest place?

wolf larsen // if i be wrong

what if i'm wrong, what if i've lied, what if i've dragged you here to my own dark night? and what if i know, what if i see there is a crack run right down the front of me? what if they're right, what if they're wrong, what if i've lured you here with a siren song? but if i be wrong, if i be right let me be here with you tonight ten thousand cars, ten thousand trains there are ten thousand roads to run away and i have been wrong, i have been right i have been both these things all in the same night so if i be wrong, if i be right let me stay here with you tonight

tuvaband // unknown

fear showed me how fragile this is i seem to lean back on my heels and i want to meet you halfway but i cannot yet would you wait for me? until the unknown would you wait for me until the unknown?

axel flóvent // forest fires

i'll be there in the summer 'cause your heart isn't safe you won't go - you're not a runner so you won't run away if you could follow your heart gently there wouldn't be this mess your dreams are incredibly loud tonight you're creating forest fires i can't change your thoughts, my dear i can't change your fears but if you want i'll travel near to make it disappear

liza anne // lost

i'll be lost if i love him lost if i don't oh, it seems i'm my own worst enemy i'm doing it to myself and i can't muster up the courage to say it's best that i leave i can't muster up much of anything when i'm feeling you breathe he's the sweet of a morning kiss but there's a poison it holds sticking thorns into my spine but i won't let go sticking thorns into my sight but i keep my eyes closed i'm doing it with my own heart i won't let it mend i'm doing it to myself

billie marten // heavy weather

when the sun rises heavy, if it rises at all meet me there across the water and we'll start an endless storm rain falls in love together we walk the english winter so caught up in one another because if we're under thundershowers the rain is ours and we are lovers of heavy weather come on, lightning, try to strike us we might be frightened, but we won't run we'd be so happy if we were fearless and in the darkness, we will become rain falls in love we fall in love

#the sandman #dreamling

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england-would-fall · 7 months

Text

Many people talk about masking less as they get older. While I do mask less frequently now than even a few years ago, the more significant change has been my reason for masking. It used to be about fitting in (which I rarely managed anyway) or at the very least, reducing the number of interactions my mind replayed during nighttime Cringe Hours (also very rarely managed). While those are still my reasons for masking on occasion, I find it’s more commonly about protecting something I value.

There are no other adults in my physical, day to day life who are like me. No obsessive fans, no imposter syndrome riddled aspiring novelists, no one who sings and dances in the supermarket. No one who screams alone to Spotify with the windows down driving around town, no one who speaks in memes, no one who can navigate social media beyond uploading photos of their kids to instagram. No one with desperately unfulfilled dreams they cling to and agonize over in the middle of the night. No one who jokes about horrible mental health or has had their life saved by a group of strangers talking about a television show. No one who has needed their life saved.

I’m not masking these days to make them think I’m like them. I’m masking because the person I am, most deeply and honestly, deserves to be protected and preserved, cherished and appreciated. They can’t afford the unmasked me, so I keep her on the top shelf now.

I am lonely—something I have sworn to them a million times I’m not. No one here is like me, and everyone who is exists in text messages and gifs in my little handheld light box. I am lonely. But at least I belong to me.

#masking #unmasking #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #neurodiverse stuff #neurospicy #lonesome #self protection #self love #adults are boring #internet friends #fandoms save lives #seriously #henry fox has to belong to himself #or he’ll disappear #i’m not crying you’re crying

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reddpenn · 2 years

Note

:O Could we see your laumontite? I knew opals were kept in water sometimes I didn’t know others did too! Ty for all your rock facts

Oh man, let me show you my absolutely stunning specimen of laumontite!!

This piece is about six inches long, and was collected from the upper peninsula of Michigan, right off the beach of Lake Superior. (My uncle found it!) As you can probably guess by its pastel colors, it belongs to the zeolite group of minerals.

While it may not look like much from a distance, up close it's an incredibly pretty specimen. Here are some closeups!

Look at those crystals!! Many of these brittle crystals have been broken by weathering, but they still display a great example of laumontite's crystal habit! Bladed sprays with very distinct faces.

The salmon pink coloration of this laumontite specimen is unique to Lake Superior! I believe it's due to the level of iron in the area.

Some of the crystals are growing intertwined with what appears to be calcite. (Though it may also be another zeolite mineral!) That's the shiny white stuff. It's a cool contrast to have the dull, sort of pearly pink laumontite crystals right next to the shiny white calcite.

Laumontite is a mineral which forms underwater, and has water as part of its crystal structure. If allowed to dry out completely, laumontite's crystal structure will lose its water molecules and decay into a powder called leonhardite. As such, it's a stone that requires some careful curation if you want to add it to your rock collection.

While the best way to store this rock would have been in a sealed container of water, I wanted to display it on a shelf with the rest of my collection, so I tried something a little risky! I soaked this specimen in a bath of heavily diluted Aileen's Tacky Glue, which is a craft glue that dries invisible and watertight. After soaking, I gently painted on multiple layers of the same diluted glue mixture, careful not to damage the brittle crystals. The idea was to create a watertight seal that prevented the stone from drying out. It sounds pretty wild, but this method is actually a common tactic for rockhounds trying to preserve laumontite!

As you can see, it worked really well! Despite being displayed in the open air on my shelf, the crystals remain beautifully defined. A difficult rock to care for, but so incredibly worth it!

#red pen has cool rocks #look at my cool rocks #talkin' bout rocks #rock collecting #laumontite #zeolites

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yoko-ni · 2 years

Text

Minors / ageless will be blocked.

🌞 🌈

You knew this was destined to happen. You knew this was coming, yet at the same time a feeling of surprise still overtook your senses and governed your body from moving from where your feet were rooted. He was only meters away, no longer technicolored as you remember him, but now almost discolored and... Bloody. The discoloration was probably from the dim remainder of light in the room, or so you had hoped. So with that out of the way why don't we ask ourselves this: how did you end up here? Where even was this mysterious setting you've found yourself in, dear reader? Well perhaps we simply need to jog your memory back up to speed. Allow me.

This man before you, the same one you once thought was a hallucination.. He was the reason you were in this distant colorful schoolroom, standing before your friend and now foe. He had woken you up, accompanied you to your place of work, and even dissuaded you from Ian despite how badly you missed the old days. The past days of snowy walks to school, your first dance, your first kiss, and abandoned plans of a joint future. This technicolored clown had dissuaded you from many of your friends and coworkers, lulled you to sleep with soft words of reassurance and comfort, promised you the very sun, the moon and its stars in all of their millenia of light, who drew you in with affections and praise galor, who was now asking you to make the ultimate sacrifice: To sacrifice your very life, and your place in your world, to remain with him in this.. childishly educational world stored inside of that VHS. That old, red VHS tape... Had it not been for the old tape falling off of a shelf that fateful day you wouldn't have had all of these mishaps. Had you not been curious, Ian and Shaun would still be okay. I'd like to think the blame isn't entirely on your shoulders though, dear ____, maybe he revealed the tape to you himself. Maybe he used the little power he had, to simply push the tape out and into your perception.

But enough with the focal contemplations of past action: You bit the apple, and now you're reaping the fruit of your actions and his deceit. Jack was... Bloody. No, that was a far understatement. He looked off in the way the dead do at a wake, how even as they lay preserved and clean you can still tell the little blood in their veins has stopped running through their bodies, that their clocks have stopped. He seemed to have some sort of wound at his head, maybe even somewhere another wound could be found at his torso given the amount of blood covering his normally clean and prestine primary colored attire. His eyes.. Those same eyes you had sometimes found yourself staring into for just a minute too long, those dark doting eyes that somehow were always filled with light of adoration and ambitious optimism, were pale, almost not even there. But his smile still remained all the same as he extended a gloved hand towards your paralyzed body-

That's right, you were lured into this world inside his tape: this.. "Setting". The only source of light was from a static screen bathing the long-forsaken schoolroom in a grey toned display. You could even just faintly see a long dried pool of blood close by. No doubt belonging to Jack, you figured. Speaking of, he finally shattered the silence with a softened smile.m despite his now ghostly appearance.

"Shh, it's okay. I know this is a lot to think about, but you're all I need and you know that. There's only one sun in my sky, and that's you."

He stepped closer, the static began to clear.

"Aren't I your North star? That's right.. I'll guide you."

His arms were now held open. Would you dare to run into them like before?

"None of the other stars can do what I can.."

The static had stopped somewhere in between his words casting a more focused light in the room. And as terrified as you were, that same fuzziness began to cloud your brain and with it your better judgment. Was it really the right choice? To throw away your life, life itself, for this one person?

Your life before wasn't the best: You worked a crappy job at a busy yogurt chain, your childhood sweetheart and who you thought was your soul mate was still gone, and even Shaun had left at some point. Come to think of it... No one has still found either of them yet. Did they really just up and leave on their own?

But with Jack, you were loved. Appreciated. He woke you up, kept you company and looked after you when everyone else had left. He kept his word to never leave your side, and did his best to keep you on your feet and operating when the worst of your circumstances dawned on your reality. Was he as bad as he seemed right now?

Hello! I haven't wrote anything in almost 2 years. This game has a very small Fandom, and after viewing a playthrough on YouTube on my dash, I've become invested in where this technicolor clown is going to lead us.

If you're already following, hello! I don't speak much or post if not at all, if you are under 18/ageless I will be purging and blocking :( it's nice to finally meet you all though, sorry for being scared to say hello!

It's not weird to say that a clown revived my love for writing, right? I hope not *lol. Anywho, I hope you guys will tag along for this fic of mine, and if you guys like what you've read please consider sharing/reblogging/following! Thank you for supporting my return to writing :)

#something's wrong with sunny day jack #swwsdj #sunny day jack #jambeebot #sunny day jack x reader #I hope yall dont mind the reference to the snippet posted by Jambeebot :D #If anyone regognizes the art this written off of you get a gold star

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ispeaktheyburn · 1 year

Text

@laurelindebear here’s your very belated Secret Santa gift! Hope you enjoy it.❤️ Massive thanks to @picklebrinedgoblinmind and @belphegor1982 for their brainstorming help!

“Kamose, Khaba...Khaemwaset!” Evy exclaimed triumphantly to the empty library, as if she’d just unearthed a centuries-old Egyptian artifact. “There you are.”

The challenge of locating a single volume amongst the scattered piles of books almost made battling an all-powerful reanimated mummy look like child’s play. As at Hamunaptra, however, she had help with the task; over the past couple of weeks, she and Rick had managed to create some semblance of order from the chaos Evy’s reshelving accident had caused. She placed the book on the shelf and continued sifting through the pile at her feet, then nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of a familiar voice behind her.

“Ah, Khaemwaset, the first Egyptologist.”

Evy spun around and found herself face to face with Ardeth Bay, leader of the Medjai, the order charged with protecting Hamunaptra and other sacred sites in Egypt. He was accompanied by a small group of men who could only be warriors under his command, as they wore the same flowing black robes, and their faces were tattooed with the same hieroglyphs.

Evy hesitated, uncertain as to how to greet him. She knew she owed her life partly to this man, but it was difficult to forget the Medjai’s attacks on the Sudan and their camp at Hamunaptra, and Ardeth surely hadn’t forgotten that she was the one who had woken Imhotep. Imhotep…oh, God, had he risen again already? No, if that were the case, Ardeth would know it hadn’t been her doing this time.

"As-salaam 'alykum, Ardeth," she said eventually, her tone friendly yet tentative.

"Wa ‘alaykum as-salaam, Evelyn,” Ardeth replied to Evy’s relief. His smile was small, but it contained enough warmth to reassure her that he felt no ill will toward her. “So, you admire Khaemwaset?"

"Very much."

Evy had read extensively about Khaemwaset, the fourth son of Ramesses the Great, who had dedicated his life to restoring and preserving the monuments of earlier pharaohs. Many Western Egyptologists were concerned only with acquiring treasure, showing little care for the sites they excavated; Evy had promised herself years ago that she would follow Khaemwaset’s approach.

“That is no surprise. There is much to admire about him. Giza would likely have crumbled into dust if it were not for his efforts.” A delighted smile spread across Evy’s features. This conversation was taking such a pleasant and unexpected turn that any remaining apprehension she felt about the Medjai’s sudden arrival evaporated. “But he was not without faults. I trust you know the story of Khaemwaset and the Book of Thoth?”

"Of course.” The tale of how Khaemwaset had discovered a magic book belonging to the god of wisdom in the tomb of the magician Naneferkaptah had long been one of Evy’s favorites. “Wait,” she said, a realization dawning on her as the full meaning of Ardeth’s words sank in, “you’re telling me that story is real? The Book of Thoth is real?” Evy felt a rush of excitement in her chest. The Book of Thoth would be a fantastic addition to the library.

Ardeth chuckled at her reaction. “As real as the Book of Amun-Ra. Although I would advise you not to go searching for it—or, if you must, not to read from it.”

"Believe me, I've learned my lesson when it comes to reading from strange books," Evy replied, though some of the mirth faded from her expression. "What brings you here?"

"I thought that in light of Dr. Bey's passing, you could use some help putting your affairs in order. But it looks as if you're managing quite well on your own."

A pang of regret struck Evy at the mention of her former employer’s death, and she opted instead to respond to the latter part of Ardeth’s comment. "Not entirely on my own. Rick's been helping, but he had some errands to run today."

"I see. Then we shall help you until he returns.”

“Oh, no, I would hate to impose—"

“It is no imposition, Evelyn,” Ardeth assured her. “Simply give us your instructions and we will carry them out.”

“Me?” Evy said incredulously. Who was she to give orders to the Medjai?

But Ardeth smiled encouragingly and said, “Who else? You are the librarian." His fellow Medjai nodded their agreement, and Evy’s chest swelled with pride.

“Very well.”

A few hours later, Evy looked around the library in amazement. She would never discount Rick’s help, but having several pairs of hands at her disposal allowed her to fill the bookshelves much faster. Despite her initial reluctance to order them about, the Medjai followed her instructions promptly and without complaint.

“I really can’t thank you enough for this,” she told Ardeth, dropping a pile of books onto one of the tables and slumping into a chair for a brief rest. The Medjai chieftain did likewise, taking the chair opposite Evy and smiling warmly.

“Afwan. Not at all, Evelyn. Dr. Bey informed me of your accident and that you would require help.”

“He did?” That seemed quite at odds with Dr. Bey’s words when he’d first seen the mess she made.

“Yes. Does that surprise you?”

“He was quite angry. He didn’t seem inclined to help me.” “Indeed, he was angry, but even so, he did not wish for you to bear the burden alone. He spoke quite highly of your abilities as a librarian.” “Now there’s a surprise.” Dr. Bey had been irritated with her more often than not, and according to the man himself, he’d only kept her around out of respect for her parents. After the tongue-lashing he'd given her, Evy had assumed he considered her completely useless. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same man?”

For the second time that day, Ardeth chuckled. Evy hadn’t been joking in the slightest, but she couldn’t help but feel some small measure of satisfaction that she’d managed to break through the Medjai’s stoic exterior. “He may have been harsh at times, but only a fool would not see your talent and potential. Dr. Bey was many things, but he was no fool.”

“No, certainly not. But you have every reason to think I’m a fool after all the trouble I caused.” Evy’s gaze dropped to the table. Ardeth had given no indication that he still blamed her for the events at Hamunaptra, but intentionally or not, she had sabotaged his life’s work and gotten at least one of his fellow Medjai killed. It was difficult to believe he would want to help her even as a favor to Dr. Bey. Eventually, a hand on top of hers jolted her attention back to the present, and she glanced across the table to find Ardeth regarding her with gentle brown eyes.

“Quite the contrary. It was not foolishness that drove you to read from the Book, but a hunger for knowledge, and you put that knowledge to good use in defeating the creature. I would have offered my assistance even if he had not asked.” The corners of Evy’s mouth tugged up in a small smile.

“Thank you. Truly.” Ardeth nodded, and Evy wondered if it was a Medjai trait to hide a kind heart behind a stern and intimidating façade. If what Ardeth had told her was true, Dr. Bey had also possessed this trait, at least to some degree. A wave of melancholy swept over her at the thought, and she admitted, “I miss him. Even though we didn’t have the best relationship, he looked out for Jonathan and me in his own way, and it’s hard to imagine anyone running the museum as well as he did.”

“Dr. Bey was a great man. He was chosen as curator because the Medjai believed his knowledge of Egyptology to be unmatched. I have no doubt that at the time, this was true.” At the time? Evy’s head tilted to one side in confusion. “And now?”

“And now there is someone with knowledge equal to his, perhaps even greater, who I believe to be the only person worthy of succeeding him.” “Who?”

“You, Evelyn.” Evy was so taken aback that she had to grip the edge of the table to keep from falling out of her chair. She stared wordlessly at the Medjai for a moment before blinking and shaking her head.

“Me? You can’t be serious.”

“I assure you; I am quite serious.” Evy searched the Medjai’s expression and quickly concluded that he was, indeed, being sincere. He didn’t strike her as the type to crack a joke at someone else’s expense, particularly about something concerning a dead man who had played an important role in both of their lives. Still, she couldn’t help but question his judgment.

“After all this,” she said with a sweeping gesture that encompassed the entire library, “I think I’m the last person who should be in charge.”

“Respectfully, I must disagree. Looking at ‘all of this’ only furthers my belief that you are the only person capable of running this museum to a standard Dr. Bey would be proud of.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Do you not see all you have accomplished today? Look how many shelves you have managed to fill.”

“Don’t you mean how many shelves we’ve managed to fill?”

Ardeth shook his head. “All we did was follow your orders. You say you are the last person who should be in charge, but you have proven yourself more than capable of taking charge when the situation requires it. And are you not the only the only person within a thousand miles who knows how to properly code and catalogue this library?” The Medjai’s lips quirked up as he quoted the words Evy had spoken to Dr. Bey in her own defense, and she could have sworn she saw a twinkle in the corner of his eye.

“Well, yes,” she admitted with a sheepish smile, “but still, I’m not sure I deserve to be rewarded for cleaning up my own mess.”

“One mistake does not define you.”

“It wasn’t my only mistake. Just my biggest one.”

“Perhaps that is true, yet my point still stands. There is no one alive who has not made mistakes, myself included. Even Dr. Bey had his failings, but they did not diminish his diligence and wisdom. He saw those same qualities in you—as do I.”

Again, Evy was rendered speechless, a lump forming in her throat. She didn’t know what she’d expected when Ardeth first arrived, but a job offer certainly wasn’t it. Was there no end to the Medjai leader’s generosity?

When she found her voice, she cleared her throat to remove the lump and said for what must have been the hundredth time that day, “Thank you—for everything. I’m honored. If there’s anything at all I can do for you in return—”

“I would ask nothing of you except that you care for yourself as diligently as you have cared for this library. And a letter every so often would not be unwelcome.”

He wanted them to be friends. A surge of warmth filled her as she replied, “I’ll be in touch. Perhaps one day Rick and I will pay you a visit.”

“I would like that very much.” Ardeth paused briefly, lowering his eyes, then fixed them on Evy again and asked, “Forgive me, but I could not help but notice your ring. Are you and O’Connell…”

“Yes,” Evy said, her sheepish smile of moments before returning. “Mabrouk!” Ardeth exclaimed with the widest smile she’d yet seen on his face. “That is wonderful. I wish the two of you every happiness. When are you to marry?”

“A month from today.” Evy was practically bouncing in her chair now, her efforts to suppress her giddiness clearly failing. Was it really so close? “Rick had a suit fitting this morning. He’ll be in a meeting with the staff at the reception venue now.”

“I see. I will have to remember to congratulate him when he returns.” An idea occurred to Evy, but she hesitated to share it, wondering if she would be overstepping the boundaries of their newly established friendship. No, she decided, it was a perfectly reasonable thing for one friend to ask another.

“I was thinking…our guest list is very small, and if your duties don’t require you to be elsewhere, I’m sure we’d both love for you to attend.” Now, for the first time, it was Ardeth who eyed her with a bewildered expression. Evy tapped her fingers on the table as she waited for his response, fearing that her request had indeed been inappropriate. But when he spoke, her fears quickly dissipated. “One can never predict when the services of the Medjai will be required, but I will attend, In sha'Allah.” “Wonderful.” Perhaps Ardeth simply wasn’t accustomed to being invited to weddings. The thought saddened Evy a little, but not enough to dampen her joy that he’d accepted her invitation. “I promise to stay out of trouble in the meantime.” “I am sure you will.” Evy caught another glimpse of that uncharacteristic twinkle in the Medjai’s eye as he added, “I will try to do the same, but I make no promises.”

They laughed like a couple of schoolchildren until Evy raised a finger to her lips and playfully hissed “Shhh!” as if suddenly remembering they were in a library. Ardeth bit his lower lip to suppress another laugh, but grinned from ear to ear as they rose from the table to rejoin the other Medjai.

#the mummy #evelyn carnahan #ardeth bay #my fics

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notmuchtoconceal · 1 year

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bro, confession -- i love watching weird conservative nerds on the internet talk about gay people like they're mutants and it's all projection.

oh my fucking god, bro. it is absolutely fascinating how insecure and pathetic they are --

and yeah, part of it's because of how much of myself i see in them.

empathy is a beautiful thing.

think like t. s. eliot and quentin tarantino and how they're weird neurotic geeks obsessively cataloguing a dead time that'll be gone forever because bro why youldn't you want to preserve some memory for time immemorial of a land you thought you knew and never knew

gone from the earth already before you had the foresight to remember

what are we but these bodies and our memories

some meager reputation prone to flux in the eyes of gullible men who fall to the lures of black anglers into blacker fancies corroded down to merely another cochhead on a wall of sieves

for there had already been so much lost and so many things you never got down and only so much time to remember as still you hurdle faster

for all time merely moves faster

so much more space with fewer things between as some stockpile like uranium builds up like plaque and all is black and gold beneath some radiant emerald green --

while we fancy that our imaginings, our infinitely superior realities, all sealed so hermetically as preserves catching dust on a shelf of grey moss on red oak where no longer the moon even shines, but those faint rays that turn back on them for the warmth of their cool,

for they saw futures by looking back as they built presence by looking forward

as a man is himself, all the things he is,

that he does and he dreams,

and my hands must handle more than spongey keys which drip in the nubs of their locks

or courtyards of sterile bit harshing my eyes with fluorescence so i see the trees as merely bearing square fruit,

cell walls in breast plate on keratin-bricked melons --

and it makes ya realize so much of the so-called "progressive" rhetoric in this country is people pathologically ashamed of their bodies cause they only know how to control others.

gotta get em as canned meat, nothin better than some substance under all the packaging.

gotta give em something to throw away.

can't fertilize en mass without the destructive act.

for the brutality of eroticism is the brutality of stark naked exposure and what revelations divine are our inspirations,

for we know well that to be ruled insincerely will always be unflattering,

and yet to truly explore a foreign consciousness will break us of our arbitrariness, break us in all the ways we yearn to be broken --

yes, oh yes -- the degrees of separation into some great other.

as we are he, she must be she, as we are fair, she must be rough, as we fancy women she must fancy women --

wait, we fancy MEN so she must fancy women --

homosexuality is *not* the state of nature,

we are ballerinas, twirling, twirling, twirling towards freedom

(escape velocity, bro!)

rocket number 9 awaits the evening star!

hammer hammer

armie hammer hammerhead.

your vessel is a thundercloud,

how she departs to the scorch of lands unseen.

our invisible sister frostbitten by the void, your skin is no stain of ours. you simply came from a distant land, nurtured by the light of our selfsame star --

by what names do you address him? they are as plentiful as his rays and the fruits bore below his arches --

by what magnificent shapes you have molded them to!

could i ever love you outside the bonds of politeness?

what yokes us to our decorum, some manifold headdress.

would i not encroach on you by knowing you, for you could not be what you are by knowing me? or do i fear simply, in spite of myself --

that for you to know me would break me, and i am simply this frail and fragile thing, some porcelain boy belonging to a delicate interior among the dust of the trees in the casings we flayed.

you love so me without absolution and i know only the absolute --

do i trespass upon you simply knowing not what to say?

what do you read into me, i who am a mute who harbors no infinities but what you see in me -- i could die when i see i have failed to love you, for i have failed you so truly that now you long to die -- there would be no cave deep enough, no epoch long enough to outlast the shame of the abortion i would sire would you to collapse in our lifeblood.

stop.

your silence could never hurt me. my silence is but a means to hurt yourself. i would never cease to speak to you, for i am unceasing in my speaking, though i use so much more than these meager gashes you catalogue in those denser smog infinities of your every fractionating light towers -- my beautiful algorithmic structure.

smoke bred the hydrogen bomb as mirror beget the sweatshop.

when you limit you, you limit me an i resent solely for i am as beyond limitation as you -- foolish boy. these potentialities which are your all -- you are always me, as i stroke your amber mane.

iridescent under an oyster shell, i flip you now to the light so that you may shimmer.

you who are eager to pull the trigger, may you find some infinity in your moment of hesitation.

you, who would not draw the blood of a traitor when called upon by the shade of your father, may you lay down the rapier of your mind and fence with two swords at once.

bro, it's like -- it's way more work to keep yourself cut off. from other people and the world, like -- what's the point.

not really any point when what ya wanna get away from's yourself,

cause buddy you ain't ever gonna get rid a that guy pointin a gun at other people.

you'd probably like him if ya got to know him.

he has a lotta good qualities.

i'd probably be into him if i didn't already know all his secrets.

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mylarbagsonlinetampa · 9 months

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