#LOLL WHY WAS THIS THEIR BEST OPTION

[lydiaas]

they're so stupid, i love them

#outer banks #obx #obxedit #outerbanksedit #jj maybank #jjmaybankedit #john b routledge #john b x jj #johnbroutledgeedit #the pogues #LOLL WHY WAS THIS THEIR BEST OPTION #I MISS THEM ALREADY

[ofthecaravel]

You Get Everything You Want

A 'You Don't Go To Parties' AND 'You Know How To Haunt' Halloween Special/ Mini Fic/ Oneshot SEQUEL

Summary: One year after the events of You Know How To Haunt and six months after You Don't Go To Parties, Sam sets the stage for a very happy and healing Halloween

Tags: POST confession YDGTP Sanny, reference to YKHTH, SMUT PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS IF YOURE A BABYCHILD PLEASE, M/M oral and handjob, dirty talk, hair pulling, teasing, idk the works, happy ending

Words: 5.7k

A/N: Don't look at me bro I don't even know. A treat for all my wonderful citizens of Caravel Nation who have been so so so so sweet to me about everything I make so BOOM here's some porn

~~~

“Is it…the astronaut?”

“Danny, we were 7 the last time I wore that costume.”

“I don’t know, I’m running out of options!”

“Well, keep guessing then!”

Danny sighed dramatically and flopped back onto the bed. Their bed, which was something he’d been really enjoying dwelling on. Danny had stayed true to his promise and followed Sam after graduation, which had led them two towns over and into a sizable apartment and jobs that they both actually enjoyed. A summer spent moving and acclimating had eventually cooled down into a nice, comfortable autumn, and now that Halloween was around the corner, Danny was watching in complete confusion as Sam took a spontaneous interest in it. Since the very first day of October, Sam had been teasing Danny about how great his costume was going to be, despite Danny’s repeated reminders that they a) had absolutely no friends in the area to show it to, b) Sam promised that they wouldn’t go to parties anymore and c) Danny wasn’t really planning on dressing up at all.

“I am reminding you once again that our current Halloween plans are to get drunk on the couch and watch The Exorcist,” Danny laughed, lolling his head on the pillow as he desperately tried to guess Sam’s costume.

“And I am reminding you once again that I also want to watch Young Frankenstein,” Sam shot back, finally peeking his head out from the bathroom. “Also, I don’t care. I’m dressing up and you’re going to lose your mind.”

“Just tell me,” Danny whined, putting on his best pleading face. Sam met it with a smile and a roll of his eyes, completely unaffected by Danny’s begging in a way that Danny wished he could be when it came to Sam. 

“No,” Sam said with a click of his tongue. “If you haven’t guessed it by now, that’s on you, buddy. You have to wait until the 31st.”

“I despise you,” Danny replied dramatically, flopping a hand over his forehead and sighing deeply.

“Yeah?” Sam laughed, peeking his head out from the bathroom again and tossing a crumpled up foam wedge at Danny. “If you hate me so much, then why am I covering up a hickey before work?”

“I know nothing about that,” Danny hummed, sitting up a little bit and giving Sam his best, most innocent smile. 

“Well, someone got a little carried away,” Sam groaned, smacking his neck with another little, white sponge and sighing. “You’ll pay for this.”

And pay for it he did. Just not in the way Danny expected.

-

Danny didn’t see Sam on Halloween morning, knowing that he had an important project in his lab that had been keeping him for more mornings than Danny preferred, so Danny enjoyed the luxury of sleeping in a little bit and doing some general tidying around the apartment. In the afternoon, he decided to run out and grab some last minute Halloween candy and other tacky goodies to appease Sam’s sudden lust for Halloween spirit, enjoying raiding the aisles of their Twix and plastic spider bounties. 

When Danny got home, he announced his presence and saw Sam’s satchel on the kitchen island accompanied by the sound of the shower running. 

“Hey!” Danny called down the hallway, dropping the paper grocery bag on the counter and starting to pull out its contents.

“Hey!” Sam echoed in a higher pitch, his voice dampened by the rush of the shower. “How was your day?”

“Boring!” Danny yelled back, loudly crinkling the bag of candy in his hand. “Got you some treats for our spooky evening!”

“Ooh! Thank you!” Sam replied. “You don’t have a costume, right?”

“Fuck no!”

“Good!”

“Why?”

“I have one for you!”

“Aw, man, Sam!” Danny groaned. “I hate costumes!”

There was a single beat of silence before Sam replied.

“Yeah, I know!” Sam answered, a weird tone in his voice that made Danny knit his eyebrows in analysis. “I’m remedying that! You’re welcome!”

Danny groaned again and Sam made a loud kissy noise, carrying on with his shower while Danny dumped candy in one of their only big bowls and read the instructions on a pumpkin shaped frozen pizza.

Now, Sam was always one to take a really long time in the shower, but he was usually pretty ready to go once he was out of it. However, this time, Danny was sitting around for much longer than he anticipated. When the blow dryer turned on, he started getting suspicious.

“What the hell are you doing in there, Kiszka?” Danny yelled down the hall again.

“I don’t want wet hair for my costume!”

“You and that damn costume,” Danny muttered to himself, shaking his head and grinning fondly. As much as it bugged him, Danny absolutely loved it when Sam dedicated himself to a cause, especially when it was ridiculous. 

“What’d you say?”

“Nothing, dear!” Danny replied innocently.

“Yeah, right!”

10 more minutes passed and Danny let out an exasperated sigh and hauled himself off the couch, making his way down the hallway towards their bedroom. 

“Hello?” Danny sang, rapping his knuckles on the closed door. “Is my boyfriend there? He promised he’d do shots with me.”

“He’s busy!” Sam sang back, his voice accompanied by the slight sounds of clothes rustling. “Can you come back later?”

“It is later,” Danny complained, leaning his forehead on the door. “Come on, Sammy, I miss you. I bet your costume is amazing how it is, now come on out and eat all this stupid candy with me.”

“I need to finish my hair,” Sam answered plainly.

“You started doing your hair half an hour ago!”

“Well, it’s not done!”

“Oh, my god,” Danny responded, a genuine irritation starting to pull at his muscles as he gently banged his head against the door again. “Seriously, Sam, come on. Halloween is wasting away!”

“5 minutes, baby, I promise,” Sam obliged, his voice taking on a gentle quality that always brought Danny to his knees. Danny sighed and murmured an “okay, love you” before trudging back to the couch. He knew that any sort of relationship with Sam meant working on Sam’s time schedule and nobody else’s, so he decided to just wait it out like he always did. Until, of course, curiosity began to overtake his annoyance. He’d spent this whole time being frustrated over Sam’s mystery costume instead of wondering what about it was so damn important, and suddenly Danny felt the minutes passing even slower as his mind started to race with images of Sam in a myriad of skimpy costumes.

So when Sam finally called out “Okay, come here!”, Danny’s knees banged into the couch’s table and he jerkily sprinted down the hallway, bursting into the bedroom to see…that Sam wasn’t there.

“Sam?” Danny asked the empty room.

“Go sit on the bed!” 

Sam’s arm peeked out of the bathroom door and waved Danny in the direction of the bed, and Danny obeyed with a confused and wild grin on his face. He smoothed his pumpkin orange sweater and spread his legs casually, his knees swinging back and forth in anticipation.

“Okay, close your eyes,” Sam’s voice piped up again, this time with an unusual nervous tinge. Danny laughed and Sam made a noise of frustration. “Just do it!”

“Fine, fine,” Danny giggled, closing his eyes and smiling. 

Without his eyesight, Danny relied on his hearing to guide him through the next few minutes. He heard the bathroom door open again, and after what he guessed was a moment of Sam checking to see that Danny had in fact closed his eyes, he heard Sam’s soft approach. Danny felt the pressure of Sam’s legs between his as he stood in front of him, and he relaxed when Sam’s hand softly came up and smoothed Danny’s hair lovingly.

“Thanks for being patient with me,” Sam said quietly, and Danny’s smile split into a grin when he felt the welcome warmth of Sam’s lips giving him a quick kiss on the crown of his head. “I just thought this could be a fun little surprise for you.”

“Can I open my eyes yet?” Danny asked.

“Mm, not yet,” Sam answered, and Danny could hear the smile in his voice when Danny let out a dramatic sigh. “You only have to be patient for another minute. I want to see if you can remember without looking.”

“Remember?”

“Yeah,” Sam muttered shyly. Danny felt Sam’s hand grab Danny’s and move it to the smooth skin of Sam’s thigh, and Danny immediately flushed at the contact. He’d thoroughly enjoyed having a whole summer of Sam in the little shorts he exclusively wore, and Danny was happy to get a taste of it back after the past month of jeans and joggers. Danny grinned further as he gave Sam’s thigh a squeeze, wringing a chuckle from Sam before he went quiet again and slowly moved Danny’s hand further up. Danny wrinkled his nose in thought as he finally felt a brush of fabric on his wrist, his hand venturing upwards of his own accord now and grasping the soft fabric of what he assumed was Sam’s boxers as something else blanketed his hand and wrist. 

“Is this…” Danny finally said. “A skirt?”

“Ding, ding,” Sam answered cheerfully, continuing to play with Danny’s hair with his free hand, his other still firmly gripping Danny’s wrist as his thumb swiped over Sam’s hipbone. 

“Freaky,” Danny smiled, wiggling his eyebrows. “I don’t think I’ve ever-”

With a jarring rush, a memory long buried came crashing down on Danny and stunned him into silence. He was about to say he’d never seen Sam in a skirt, but he had. On one, horrible Halloween night that he’d desperately tried to forget back when trying to forget interactions with Sam was a daily activity. Danny first and foremost remembered the fight that neither of them could pinpoint an origin to, as well as the miserable, slow ride he had driven alongside Sam on the sidewalk, refusing to get into Danny’s car and hurling obscenities while Danny pleaded with him to get in. But what Danny also remembered was the costume that Sam had worn and nearly driven him insane with: a simple cheerleader outfit. Still keeping his eyes shut, he tilted his head up at Sam.

“No way,” Danny breathed, his hands now roaming freely over the skirt and crop top as Sam hummed at his touch. “You kept it?”

“Of course I did,” Sam chirped, giving Danny another kiss on the head. “I had this sick determination that it’d get some proper use one day and, you know, lo and behold.”

“Did you wear it just to rile me up?” Danny asked hurriedly. “Can I look now?”

“Yes, and yes,” Sam giggled.

Danny’s eyes shot open and sure enough, there was Sam, standing cocky and gorgeous in that same cheer outfit from a year ago. It seemed like forever and no time at all at the same time. Sam had let his hair grow out over the spring and summer, and it swung gloriously in a ponytail with the same tacky blue scrunchie. A few stray pieces framed his face as he smiled triumphantly down at Danny and Danny thought for a moment (and deep down he really believed) that Sam might be the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. And here, standing barely clothed in a cheap costume he’d been hyping for a month straight just to turn Danny on, Danny thought he might also be the hottest person he’d ever seen.

“You just gonna sit there with your hands under my skirt?” Sam teased, shimmying his hips slightly to make the pleats of his skirt flip and brush against Danny’s hands. 

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Danny countered, moving backwards a little bit and using his grip on Sam’s hips to pull him forward and down onto Danny’s lap, which was already sporting a considerable tent in his jeans. Sam’s cheeks started to glow pink and his grin grew even more sly as he settled in Danny’s lap as Danny’s semblance of restraint started to slip from his grasp as his palms slid over Sam’s soft sides and up and down Sam’s thighs. Danny let out a rattling sigh as his lips finally met Sam’s neck, eliciting a quick whine from Sam as Danny breathed in his sweet scent and began to leave long, lingering kisses, which were really more of an excuse to lap at Sam’s skin and keep him as close as possible. He babied the sensitive spot under Sam’s jaw that always drew the most noises from Sam, who he could feel was quickly hardening as he clung to Danny and giggled faintly.

“No more hickeys, thank you, so keep those teeth away,” Sam hummed as Danny’s pace started to pick up, his fingernails now digging into Sam’s skin and his teeth grazing Sam’s throat as his mind melted into blank bliss. Danny just laughed against Sam’s neck and nudged Sam down to meet him, finally giving him a heated kiss that made Sam exhale loudly through his nose and grasp Danny’s jaw as they sank into a familiar rhythm. 

“Can I ask you something?” Danny rasped, pulling back and yanking the scrunchie from Sam’s hair, causing it to fall all around them in a silken curtain. 

“Sure,” Sam answered, his eyes still greedily glued to Danny’s lips as he squirmed in Danny’s grasp to chase any kind of friction he could get. 

“What did you want to happen at that Halloween party?” Danny asked, arching a questioning brow at Sam while beginning to push his skirt further up. “Did you think I was gonna lock the door and have my way with you away from listening ears?”

“Maybe a little,” Sam mumbled shyly, his voice barely audible as he watched Danny’s hands grip and dig into his thighs, revealing his thin underwear with the skirt out of the way. 

“You probably wanted them to hear, though,” Danny murmured, giving Sam a kiss on his neck while his thumbs slowly hooked Sam’s underwear, the pad of his right thumb just barely kissing the very tip of Sam’s member. “Right?”

Sam answered with silence, still watching Danny’s infuriatingly slow movements. Danny smiled and kissed the apple of Sam’s cheek before removing a hand from Sam’s groin and sweetly sliding it into Sam’s hair before firmly tugging. Sam’s head jerked up to meet Danny’s eyes and Danny gave him a look.

“Right?” Danny repeated, brushing his nose against Sam’s so their lips were just barely touching. “Tell me.”

“Right,” Sam echoed obediently, his eyes glazing slightly as he swallowed and Danny knew he had him right where he wanted him. “I always wanted you to just do something. Anything, really.”

“Aw, you’ve always liked being my pretty little thing to fawn over, haven’t you, baby?” Danny cooed, nipping at Sam’s bottom lip and pulling away before Sam could return the favor. “Although I admit I’m a little surprised that you’re into the whole slutty cheerleader thing. Kind of basic.”

“I am not basic,” Sam scoffed, and Danny laughed appreciatively at his disgust.

“Fine, fine, maybe you’re just into the whole slut thing in general,” Danny hummed, shifting Sam off of his lap and tossing him onto his side on the bed, where he landed with a laugh as Danny rolled next to him and started attacking his neck with kisses again.  

Eventually, they ended up with Danny straddling Sam’s lap as he pinned him to the bed, his affection growing increasingly aggressive as all of Sam’s perfect little noises urged him on. Danny finally reached down to tear off Sam’s dizzying little skirt, but in the process of yanking it down his legs, he felt the cheap material rip in his ironclad grip. Immediately, they both froze and looked at the chunk of fabric in Danny’s palm, the both of them breathing heavily before Sam looked up with round, pleading eyes. 

“You like that?” Danny asked, a little bit of cockiness lacing his voice. Sam instantly began nodding and scooted his hips further against Danny, pressing into him.

“The rest, rip the rest,” Sam begged unabashedly, tossing his hair off his shoulders and staring him down. Danny smiled haughtily and obliged him, reaching up under Sam’s top and grabbing the collar before yanking down, keeping firm eye contact as the thin garment ripped loudly in his fist. Sam’s chest started heaving even more as Danny lazily tossed it aside and settled over Sam’s reclined figure again, letting Sam reach up under his own sweater and grab desperately at him while he kissed and sucked on Danny’s jaw and neck.

“Not gonna let you rip this one,” Danny joked softly, working the sweater over his head and dropping it on the carpet. “Not that I think you could.”

“How rude,” Sam muttered, not stopping even as he spoke.

“Someone’s greedy tonight,” Danny pressed on, allowing himself a moment to start to unbutton his pants and slide them down while Sam was lost in his haze. “I’m starting to think you never wanted to watch a movie.”

“My plan was if you forced me to start the movie, I’d just start sucking you off,” Sam chuckled, the warmth of his breath in Danny’s ear setting every nerve in Danny’s body alight as he began to picture it. Sam was obsessed with keeping his eyes on Danny while he did it, blinking and batting his lashes like it was nothing at all while Danny gripped his hair and writhed at Sam’s touch. The more Danny focused in on the feel of Sam’s lips on his neck and face, the more he began to crave the soft, spit slicked pressure somewhere else. 

“You should show me how you would’ve done it,” Danny purred, grinning when Sam pulled away with his eyes lit up and his hands already beginning to brace on Danny’s hips. Danny moved off of Sam and shifted to the side of the bed again, letting out a small laugh when Sam scurried off the bed and immediately sank to his knees in front of Danny, looking up at him in patient awe. Danny’s stomach fluttered at Sam’s unfettering devotion, and he cupped Sam’s cheek lovingly, pressing his thumb against the soft indent in Sam’s bottom lip to give him something to suckle on while he eagerly pulled off Danny’s boxers. Without even a moment of hesitation, Sam was on him, drawing a rare shocked whine out of Danny when Sam immediately sank his mouth over Danny’s dick and hollowed his cheeks, his tongue pressed firmly and his eyes fluttered shut. Danny tried to say something, anything, but the overwhelming and unrelenting sensation of Sam’s perfect, expertly trained mouth rendered Danny speechless and reduced him to loud, shuddering breaths and hums. 

“Sam, come on, slow down,” Danny finally choked out, lacing his fingers into Sam’s hair and pulling him off of him. Sam’s eyes met his, looking frenzied and nearly crazed as spit rolled down his chin and his flushed lips stretched into a lazy smile while he caught his breath. He went limp in Danny’s grip as he always did when Danny touched his hair in any capacity, giving Danny a moment to think when he remembered the glittering scrunchie on his wrist. With shaking hands, he pulled it off and smoothed Sam’s hair back, tying it up with a snap of the elastic and tightening it just rough enough for Sam to wince and flush. Firmly, Danny kept his grip on the scrunchie and guided Sam back down, unable to help his own smile when Sam kept his eyes on him when his sweet smile closed over his cock again and welcomed it readily. Danny set the pace this time around, keeping Sam slow and steady as he sucked and lapped while Danny’s breathing picked up and he felt his release approaching far sooner than he wanted. In moments of pure pleasure and connection like that, Danny wished time could stop and they could stay in frozen ecstasy forever, only restarting and stopping again to give Sam his own turn. With Sam on his knees with the remnants of the cheerleader costume, Danny thought for a moment about Halloween night the year previous. He had erased and rewritten the ending of that night a thousand times in his head, and this felt like the ultimate redemption and the perfect ending he had dreamed of. God, the only thing he’d wanted to do was lock the door and make Sam pay for all the tension and frustration with his hands and cock, and the memory of those emotions made Danny’s grip tighten and pick up the pace. Sam seemed to notice this, his eyes going soft and dopey as his neck bobbed faster and faster and he started to choke out spit slick whimpers and gags in response. The pleasure was overwhelming and it wasn’t long before Danny realized he was a goner.

“It’s all yours, baby, all yours,” Danny breathed, his mouth dry and his hips now bucking into Sam’s mouth as he felt his muscles contract and his adrenaline buzz. “Take it, take it, take it, take it-”

Sam let out an unexpected, needy whine and Danny’s hips bucked one more time before he was pushed over the edge, letting out a relieved, stuttering groan as he came hard and painted Sam’s throat. Sam, ever the obedient angel, only waited until Danny was finished to bring his hands out from behind his back to give Danny a few last pumps that made Danny cry out and fall flat on his back, his spent cock leaking one last time. Sam cleaned him up dutifully as Danny heaved and stared at the ceiling, his breath rattling in his throat as he swallowed and came down from his high. 

Danny was only shook from his delirium by the warm, gentle presence of Sam kissing the still shivering insides of his thighs, which made Danny smile as he wiped sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. But Danny only sat up when Sam’s usual kisses turned into gentle nips and suppressions of stilted breaths and moans, looking down curiously at Sam as he realized that Sam was grinding down on the ground with his eyes closed and his mouth pressed feverishly to Danny’s skin. 

“Hey, bunny,” Danny said quietly, as if not to disturb Sam from his haze. When Sam was in this state of mind, it was hard to shake him from it until he came. “How are you?”

Danny softly put his hand on Sam’s cheek and Sam nuzzled into it, kissing his palm and trying to suck at his fingers as Sam’s hips rolled and pressed down into the carpet, his movements practiced and shuddering. Danny got a chill watching Sam try to relieve himself in such a desperate, mindless way, and he suddenly felt a loving mercy. Sam’s pleasure was really Danny’s, and he always wanted to help. 

“Come here,” Danny urged softly, shifting back on the bed to give Sam enough room to sit on his lap again, which Sam did quickly despite his wobbling legs. He straddled Danny’s wide, toned thigh and let out a content sigh, his cock still restricted by his underwear as he started grinding again. Danny let his hands settle on Sam’s hips and he applied just enough pressure to give Sam a lot less freedom to rock, keeping him flush and anchored as Sam frowned petulantly and his hips struggled to jerk. 

“Not gonna be that easy, honey,” Danny smiled, kissing Sam on the cheek and looking down at the visibly dampened fabric of Sam’s tented underwear. “But you like that, don’t you?”

“It hurts,” Sam mumbled, his words soft and whining as he fought for friction. “I’m close.”

“I know, I know,” Danny whispered soothingly. “But you haven’t earned it, have you? Kept me waiting all month for a costume that got ripped in 20 minutes, and now you’re almost ready to cum without me doing a damn thing. That’s no fun.”

“Sorry,” Sam whispered back, his motion slowing as he shrank in shame. But his cheeks were still rosy and his arms lifted to circle Danny’s neck and Danny knew that he was still more than happy to be where he was. 

“You better be,” Danny replied darkly, his nails digging into Sam’s skin as he pushed him down even harder on to his thigh. “Did you like having the control for a little bit? Stringing me along like you used to, you little fuck?”

“Yeah,” Sam answered honestly, his voice soft and hoarse as he kept his head down, his eyes glued to where his knee was pressed to Danny’s flushed cock. 

“Fuck you for that,” Danny hissed in Sam’s ear, biting hard on Sam’s earlobe and releasing his grip ever so slightly to allow for Sam’s jerk reaction. He jumped a little before grinding down again, his movements incessant as his throat leaked a pathetic whine, swallowing a little like he was about to cry. When Danny grabbed his jaw and forced him to look up, he could see the tears glossing Sam’s sleepy doll eyes as he stared pleadingly at Danny. 

“Isn’t it so much easier to just let me do everything for you?” Danny pressed further, falling into his old habit of talking Sam through it with a barrage of questions that scrambled him into a babbling, empty headed little toy with a thousand buttons for him to press. Sam nodded immediately and Danny grinned victoriously.

“See what happens when you try to take over?” Danny purred condescendingly, fully removing his hands from Sam’s hips and smoothing them down Sam’s legs and then up over the curve of his ass, pulling Sam closer and causing him to cry out from the sudden friction. 

“Danny,” Sam whimpered, his voice cracking as he wordlessly began to reach his peak. “Come on, you’re being so mean to me.”

“But that’s what you wanted,” Danny assured confidently. “It’s always you being my sweet thing to love on. But there’s a reason you picked that costume to remind me of that night…that fucking night. You don’t want to feel like you’re my perfect angel.”

Danny paused for a moment, and Sam watched him as he let the tension stretch and thicken. It was delicious, and infuriating, and Sam was dizzy and tearful and horrifically in love. 

“You want me to feel like how I did that night,” Danny continued, his words like a revelation as he shook his head slightly at Sam, his lip curling a little. “And you want to feel like I fucking hate you.”

Sam didn’t answer, his back arching inwards as he buried his head against Danny’s neck and gave a pathetic little buck, his body communicating what he couldn’t with words. Danny chuckled lightly, taking in this new information and letting it sink in. He expected to be uncomfortable with the thought of talking to Sam like he had always wanted to when they had been in that frustrating space where Danny was never sure whether he wanted to fuck or fight him more, but he wasn’t. 

This night wasn’t just a fun tease. 

It was a catharsis. 

Maybe Sam hadn’t been entirely aware of the ground he had laid with this plan, but Danny was a little impressed. Honestly, it made him love Sam all the more. But those warm feelings were not what either of them needed at that moment, and Danny was going to take advantage of this while he could.

“I did hate you,” Danny whispered, hooking his fingers over the waistband of Sam’s underwear and finally pulling it down, drinking in Sam’s immediate gasp  as his stiff dick met the cool air. “You hated me too, probably. Unwarranted, but I get it.”

Danny pulled on Sam’s ponytail to free his face from Danny’s neck, holding his palm under Sam’s mouth and suppressing a loving smile as Sam immediately spit, still unable to look Danny in the eye. Danny finally put his hand to Sam’s dick, pumping slow and hard and Sam fell into the warmth of Danny’s shoulder again as he let out a long, low groan. Danny loved all of Sam’s high pitched squeals and cries, but there was something about the sounds from deep in Sam’s chest that gave him a different thrill. He kissed Sam’s neck and leaned his head against his, his ear in the perfect spot to hear every tiny sound. 

“You were such a fucking bitch,” Danny growled, his speed picking up ever so slightly as he let his mind wallow in the dark places he hadn’t touched on in over six months. “I used to think about you bending over those randoms like you gave a fuck and just fume. That’s not what you needed, that’s never what you needed. You needed this. To shut the fuck up for once in your life and just take it.”

Mirroring Sam’s frenzy from early, Danny took his grasp on Sam from zero to 100 in a moment’s time, his wrist aching as he stroked and pulled despite Sam’s sharp cry in his ear to slow down. 

“You wanted me to fuck you, so here I am, fucking you,” Danny smiled, cupping the back of Sam’s head and pushing him back against his skin, muffling his whines and gasps. “Fuck, fuck you, baby. Fuck. You.”

With a cresting sob, Sam arched and came in Danny’s hand, his chest heaving as Danny’s frustration melted in an instant and he immediately began a stream of whispered praises into Sam’s wild hair. Danny began to panic slightly when Sam’s small sobs into Danny’s neck continued. When he leaned back to assess Sam, he worried that he went too far when he saw Sam’s face flushed and streaked with large tears that still pooled in his pale waterline. Sam sniffed and gave him a little smile, chuckling scratchily while Danny kissed his face and held him flush to his chest, fervently asking if he was okay and apologizing profusely. 

“No, no, I’m fine, Dan,” Sam insisted, his voice very fond as he pushed Danny’s hair back and pressed his cheek against Danny’s as he leaned into him. “Great, actually. Just got overwhelmed. s’good, baby, it was really, really good, I’m okay.”

“My poor baby,” Danny cooed, twisting to keep kissing Sam’s cheek and then migrating to his lips, still whispering sweet nothings between hot, wet kisses. 

“Stop, I’m gonna cum again,” Sam giggled as Danny kissed his neck. “Where are my boxers? Lemme off.”

“No, stay here,” Danny complained, locking his arms tight around Sam’s torso and falling backwards again, sending Sam sprawling on top of him and making his ponytail smack Danny in the eyes. They laughed as they struggled against each other, with Sam finally rolling off of Danny and the both of them laying in the silence following their laughter for a moment before Danny spoke up.

“Happy Halloween,” Danny grinned, turning to look at Sam. Sam smiled back at him and Danny felt his heart flutter. At the end of it all, it was all just Sam, wasn’t it? He was everything. It washed over him in the wake of the tired old anger he’d tapped into that he realized was really, truly gone from his heart. He accepted it with a sigh and it seemed like Sam had heard each and every one of those thoughts, knitting his brow sympathetically for a moment before smiling wider and scrunching his nose at Danny.

“Happy Halloween indeed,” Sam said with a teasing flair. “We need to throw this blanket in the laundry immediately. And I might need to be thrown back in the shower.”

“Roger that,” Danny sighed. “Are we really not gonna watch a scary movie?”

“We can!” Sam assured, looking over the edge of the bed for any stray shirts or sweatpants. “I just want to be clean first.”

“No blow drying this time,” Danny instructed, rolling onto his stomach and grabbing his sweater from off the floor and tossing it onto Sam’s head. “Here.”

“Yes,” Sam said excitedly, finally standing up and then swaying slightly when his knees threatened to buckle. “Woah, shit.”

“Yeah, man, you had quite a ride,” Danny teased, which Sam received with a disgusted scoff and a kiss on Danny’s forehead before he set off towards the bathroom. “Wait, bring me a washcloth!”

“Yes, sir,” Sam replied in a mocking, breathy tone, and Danny rolled his eyes fondly at Sam’s immediate return to attitude. “Wait, oh my god!”

“What?”

Sam let out a little laugh and walked out of the bathroom as soon as he’d ducked through the doorway, holding his hands behind his back with a barely contained laugh.

“Hold out your hands,” Sam said with a grin. “I forgot to give you your costume.”

“Oh, right,” Danny replied with a curious lift of his eyebrow, cupping his palms and closing his eyes again. “Forgotten in the heat of the moment, I guess.”

“You’re gonna love it,” Sam giggled, letting something cold and something fabricky settle in Danny’s palm. “Surprise!”

Danny opened his eyes and immediately scoffed with a laugh when he saw the glasses and bowtie in his hand, giving Sam a “Really?” look. 

“Dang, this was going to be a full blown roleplay, huh?” Danny teased, making a grab for Sam, causing him to try and snake his way out of Danny’s grasp while he blushed.

“Maybe I think you’re cute in glasses,” Sam flirted, playfully swatting Danny’s shoulder before turning towards the bathroom door again. “Plus, you are a nerd.”

“What are you, 9?” Danny joked. “You’re literally a scientist, I’m pretty sure that makes you the king of nerds.”

“Bow down, then, biatch,” Sam said with grandiose. Danny immediately started booing him and Sam slammed the door behind him, his laughs muffled by the wood. Danny stared at the door, the smile still heavy on his face as he listened to the shower turn on and the curtain rustle, finding it almost unreal that it was Sam in there. In this apartment, even. With Danny. And on top of that, with him in the way that he’d always dreamed. Whatever nightmare they’d endured had melted into what Danny was convinced was a dream, and as he sat stripped and sore, he prayed for the first time in a long time that he’d never wake up. 

~~~

#PLEASE NOBODY LOOK AT ME I AM ALREADY BLUSHING UP A STORM #THIS IS FILTHY IM SORRY #gvf #greta van fleet #danny wagner #sam kiszka #karoufiction #greta van fleet fanfiction #myart #greta van art

[winslowat3am]

You prob won’t see this but hi! I follow you and your beautiful wife bc of your love for black women and life tips! I wanna share a story that happened yesterday where I was harassed in a gas station by an aggressive black male security guard and get nonblack poc feedback bc I no longer feel safe around black men and just curious to what advice or thoughts you have.

Last night I walked inside a pilot gas station to use the restroom where I wore a yellow camo track suit with the hood up bc I was cold. The security told me to take my hood down even tho there was no policy where I could see and followed me to the restroom door and called me out my name (I heard him thru the door), after I finished in the restroom I went to confront him at the register he was hiding behind where we got into a heated verbal exchange , I cussed him out amd I hurt his ego evidently bc he felt the need to follow me outside to escalate it but I outtalked him and got in my car. I never took my hood down. I went back in the gas station with a girlfriend for water after informing her of what happened where he then tried to make me remove my hood again and tried to encourage the women at the registers to refuse me service bc I wouldn’t remove my hood, we got into it again. He was aggressive, approached me slamming his hand on the counter, got loud, and sensitive bc I got the best of him twice verbally and in the end I still got the water and never took my hood down; the nice white lady at the register took my money from my friend who paid for it, the black woman at the register was a m@mmy. He nitpicked my outfit and physical appearance but ppl passing thru wore hoods and had pants hanging off their asses, tummy shirts, brought dogs in the store, but was never harassed like I was. I don’t have a problem following a policy but I won’t follow a policy when it’s enforced on me but no one else. So I called the police and they told me to file a complaint with corporate and see what I can do about it so I will be calling them in the morning. Did I mention the security tried to get me banned for trespassing just bc i didn’t back down and verbally whooped him?? LOLL!!! I’ll be carrying a switchblade from now on and learning to shoot a gun real soon!

Read my tags. I'm assuming you're a bw? It doesn't take all the hoodrat buffoonery Glocktavious displayed to ask someone to remove their hood. Talk to a lawyer, they'll help you go about prosecuting Dustavious the right way. So unprofessional. I hope this isn't a late response, I don't really check Tumblr lately or read every ask but yours grabbed my attention. You did the right thing! Always stand up for yourself. You're a savage for checking his ass. Never be afraid of a man, & keep a weapon on you. 👏👏👏👏Insecure, pussy "men" pick fights with women, they think being aggressive & loud intimidates you & they never prepare for a strong retort that shuts their shit down. My completely honest & straightforward unfiltered pov: We need to address the fact that the bullying of bw is a problematic behavior that is perpetuated by bm primarily (not all, but atp it's so common it might as well be). You'd be better off opening up your dating options to men outside of your race, tbh. (Be very selective & careful when itrl dating). Non-bm build their communities & protect their women. [Redacted] That's why I don't understand why some ww leave wm, who have privilege & power, for bm, who 9/10 don't have anything to offer except dick, kids & struggle love. Even when bm manage to have success it doesn't change their crusty ass mentality. I recently learned that a bw is killed by a bm every six hours. [Redacted] Bm are the only race of men who publicly bash, degrade & bully their race of women while praising, fetishizing & worshipping non-bw. But you can't expect men who hate themselves to love or value you. I see the bs bw have to deal with daily & it saddens me. I feel like they target bw cause they think it'll make them men & acceptable in the eyes of wm, it's embarrassing. [Redacted] I can't imagine treating my baby like that. [Redacted] I'll never post or reblog a "this is a safe space for everyone" post. It's not. I don't post for them. I don't want racists/colorists in my space where bw & woc tell me that they feel safe, seen & protected. I gatekeep my blog so that you're safe expressing your feelings here. I thought it was obvious since I never acknowledge bm but it needs to be said. I 100% agree with the bw advising bw to choose higher quality men. You should watch Cynthia G & Paris Milan on YouTube & other black women who cover domestic & racial topics, it's very educational & insightful, they offer a lot of perspective & I agree with so many points they make. [Redacted] The best advice I can give you is to run & never look back. Good luck. ❤️

#you can sue him personally for discrimination & verbal harassment & file a complaint with corporate #If you're banned from the store then you can have the cops get his information & press charges #once corporate finds out about the incident he'll more than likely lose his job #Make sure to stress that he intentionally embarrassed you by making a scene followed you to the bathroom & outside of the store in attempt #to escalate the situation he was highly aggressive & approached you & that you felt scared for your safety which caused emotional distress #those are super important details & ultimately where he fucked up #& if you're able to write down the date/time this occurred & have the camera footage obtained by police & your friends as witnesses #it'll help your case #The moment someone loses their cool & lowers themself even lower than they already are you already won #As you go through life the more jackasses you'll encounter & you'll become so immune that shit won't even anger you the way it used to #Speaking from experience #I don't see him living long cause losers who fuck with people & think being loud & ghetto gives them an upper hand never live a long life #toxic masculinity is a fear of strong women masked by a fraudulent superiority complex #he's corny asf if the only thing he could think to call you was ugly like what guy doesn't automatically run to that as an insult? #They even use it when they get rejected it's always that or 'bitch' cause they're sooo original #they're tiring #long post #ask

[miczoid]

maria and louise sketch #2

maria(marie?mari?) and louise outfit sketches! + paper sketch i thought was pretty. i tried a new way of coloring for their faces, cause they would stay the same. i didnt like the way it turned out, looks weird and plastic-y but tell me what you think?. you can tell where i gave up coloring right loll? pls accept this sloppyness as this is simply concept sketches, i was unsure which one i liked the best so i just wanted to get the idea across with simple lines. i also did luises hair wrong i just couldnt get the hat right sorry

i faced even more difficulties than i mentioned in the last post, especially concerning “keeping things canon looking”. another thing about the mario universe girlies is i’ve never seen them wear pants either, but mario and luigi do wear pants. do you keep the original design for recognition? or do you try and match what nintendo would do?, ok they’ll just wear denim overall dresses then with white stockings, but they’re plumbers? that would just be impractical why would they wear skirts?. what about denim overall shorts?, that seems like a compromise. still pretty impractical though.. and i havent even started with turtlenecks or collar cuffs or discussed the length of their sleeves. their clothes technically shouldn’t change at all, but im also thinking about how nintendo designs girl characters and try to match that to make it as canon looking as possible

now onto explaining the results!

first sketch - is just their original outfits, the either thick and wooly or thin hugging-the-neck type of turtleneck people draw them in. gloves, boots(i got tired ok) all the good stuff. there is no actual reason to even change their outfits so this makes sense.

second sketch - is when i took the whole “never seen a mario girl in pants” very literally, the difference in dress length i felt would differentiate them and i think it fits. white stockings because it jst makes sense. (again the whole difference in turtleneck thickness and the sleeve length difference is not like for real its more like presenting different options cus i couldnt settle on one, thats why in the next drawing the sleeve length is switched) they might look like this if nintendo designed them, but again it seems unpractical?, not something they would actually wear. 

third sketch - might be a compromise?, just realised they’re called dungarees woops,. balloon like/wide end, makes it sort of look dress-like at the same time. something nintendo might settle on if they realised their boys are a special case but still wanted some girlypop. (basically if they got over themselves)

- and then the uncolored layer and the little maria sketch. i like all the outfits i dont think i can decide on something permanent :((. 

im thinking about doing this with bowser too!,would be an interesting thing trying to capture his likeness. build, plastron, hair - whatever. (bowsette i pretend i do not see) and i might do something mischevious when im done >:D(its lesbian bowuigi, thats the mischevious thing)

#mario #marioandluigi #genderbend #smashbrothers #mariobrothers #luigi #mario fanart #luigi fanart #mariomovie #nintendo

[superstar-nan]

Fight Tooth and Nail: Ch 4

Summary: Michael takes you home and you have a long chat about what the heck is going on around here

Words: 5,077

Fun stuff: Descriptions of unusual self harm from a child, mention of child murder, graphic descriptions of undead bodies, canon typical violence, and mild swearing. Michael heavy chapter; he's still sassy and you're annoyed by it.

───── (\ /) ─────

You barely even registered when you were done vomiting your guts out. Your head was lead, your fingers and toes were tingling strangely. The room was spinning again, and you felt out of yourself. Michael was saying something you didn’t catch, his voice startled and raspy, and looking at his face made you retch again. 

The ringing in your ears waned and you could understand Michael, “Oh, gross! ” You wished you could go back to not understanding Michael.

You looked down. The trashcan was made of crossed wire, so your vomit leaked out and onto the floor. Despite how it really was gross, you still couldn’t smell it over the spoiled rot in the room. You clumsily kicked the trashcan away from you (coincidentally, toward Michael, who scooted away from it), and stumbled back against the wall. 

It was strange, knowing that you were out of it but not knowing what to do about it. Everything was just a bit out of reach, even the decayed hand snapping in front of your face.

“Hey, you okay?” He didn’t sound worried, only slightly impatient with his typical drone.

You swatted his hand away, “I’m—”

“ Shh! ” That time, you really were talking loud, but you didn’t realize that he was quiet until he shushed you.

“I’m fine.” You looked at the panel. Did they all need to be rebooted? Or none of them?

“Really?” Why was his voice like low, buzzing wasps? Just another thing to add to the list of unsettling things about him. “Because you’re tapping the ‘ reboot all ’ option over and over again.”

Oh. You were doing that. “I’m making it easy for myself.”

Your chin was pulled up. When did Michael get in front of you? He tilted your head from side to side, and you didn’t fight his whims. At this closeness, you couldn’t avoid looking at him, and it gave you a visceral chill traveling from the base of your spine up your back. Though peculiarly, you didn’t want to avoid looking at him. His features held a grip of morbid curiosity over you, like watching something you were forbidden to see—or rather, that was forbidden to exist. The more you looked at him, the less unpleasant he looked. Not that he wasn’t still a little horrifying to look at, but his features held an... odd, haunted allure to it. You had the sudden impulse to hold his face in your hands, to brush your thumbs lightly along the death under his abyssal eyes, and to know the grim reaper that wouldn’t take him. Would he feel it? Can he still feel?

The corpse cursed under his breath, “Your pupils are different sizes. You probably have a concussion.”

Ah. Maybe that was why you were getting poetic and strange impulses. “I’m probably fine.” You retorted, grabbing his wrist. He let you go, but he didn’t look convinced.

“Can you tell me what year it is?” He asked.

“Uh,” Come on, you knew this. “2023? 2022? No wait, 2015.”

“Yeah, give me that,” He swiped the control panel from you long before you even knew it left your hands. Suddenly, a cold, wet gas-station soda cup replaced it. “Don’t fall asleep.”

You took a long sip and almost choked on it, “It tastes like how you smell.”

Michael stiffened. When did he get back to his desk? 

You kept drinking anyway. Despite the taste, the cool liquid felt good on your bruised throat. Your head lolled to the side, facing the door. You should have been dead. Multiple times now. That thing —the monster would have killed you twice over if it wasn’t for someone else being there, someone who knew what was going on. 

What the hell was going on? Was your best friend wrapped up in this crazy place too? Also, why was there a figure in the doorway?

For a moment that was both an eternity and nothing at all, you thought it was the animatronic and you could have screamed. It wasn’t, though. It was too skinny, but just as tall. You couldn’t focus right at first, but when you did, you noticed it wasn’t skinny or tall at all. It was a child. Small and shrouded in darkness; they couldn’t have been older than eight. Their wild brown locks obscured most of their face, and little fingers touched the edge of the door frame. 

You smiled and waved at them.

They waved back, though you couldn’t if they smiled through the shadows. You wanted to ask them their name or if they were lost, but in a vague moment of clarity, you realized that a child shouldn’t be here. Your head started to pound, or was that your heart? The child lifted up a toy phone—the same one the animatronic fooled you with. You opened your mouth to speak, but you couldn’t make a noise. Just like when you were being choked.

The child stabbed themselves in the chest with the phone.

Red—Flashing—Blaring—Red—Flashing—Blaring—

Was it blood? No, the child was gone. Michael was swearing, scrambling across the different cameras. You grabbed the panel and quickly restarted the ventilation. The corpse tried to swipe it back from you, but you pulled away just in time. 

“I got it,” You said.

Michael opened his mouth to argue, but his eyes couldn’t tear from the cameras for long. Whatever argument he had for you was lost the moment he returned his focus, frantically swapping through screens. You restarted the audio, and couldn’t stop yourself from looking at the cameras. Not that you could make out the monster animatronic if you tried. You didn’t have the strength to consider why it was so good at hiding from the cameras. Or why it was so good at hunting you.

Your eyes burned when you blinked. You dragged your focus to the clock. 5:47. You couldn’t tell if the night was gone too quickly or not gone quickly enough. You bit your lower lip. Without any idea of what happened to your best friend, you decided the night was gone too quickly. It was unfair. 

“What time is your shift over?” Even though your voice was a whisper, it still sounded torn to shreds. You rubbed your throat. It didn’t hurt now, but you knew it would soon. Damned rotted bunny.

Sallow eyes flicked to you and back to the cams just as quickly as you leaned on the back of his chair, “You’re cognizant now?”

You tilted your head from side-to-side, testing the pain in your head. Yep, it was still painful; throbbing, dull and heavy. Though it was difficult to tell how cognizant you were, since the whole night had been a nightmare straight out of a terrible horror movie. You decided to flick the back of Michael’s ear in response. It was spongy to the touch. 

Michael half-heartedly swatted at your fingers, but couldn’t keep his hands away from the cameras for long, “Six.”

You swallowed, which was functionally more difficult than usual. You restarted the cameras. “What time does the other security guard get here?”

“Six.”

How inconvenient. You restarted ventilation. “The last security guard left fifteen minutes before you came.” 

“If I did that, I would die.” 

He was right, but he didn’t have to be so sardonic about it. Not when you were almost killed twice, not when your best friend was still missing, and not when your only clue was in the hands of a... Wait, the kid had the toy phone just a second ago, but you shattered it early. Were you dreaming? Hallucinating? Obviously, you were...

“There was a kid here...” You mentioned, anyway.

“You were dreaming,” Even though you came to the same conclusion, you didn’t like how dismissive the corpse was.

“I didn’t fall asleep,” You said while rebooting the audio.

“Then you were hallucinating,” He said, also preoccupied with swiping and selecting and switching and searching.

You wanted to hit him again. You bit your lip.

Michael’s eyes flicked to you for a fraction of a moment before returning to the cameras. You could only imagine how chaotic you must’ve looked: body shaking with fatigue, eyes red from crying and exhaustion, lips chapped from vomiting, and you didn’t even want to know if the bruise around your neck formed yet. However you looked, apparently it was pitiful enough to make the corpse sigh and say, “The ventilation in this place—something in the air, makes people see things.”

Very briefly, you wondered if the whole night was just some gas-induced nightmare. God, you wished it was.

You rebooted the ventilation. It didn’t need it, but you did it anyway.

As you watched the cams flick through one and the next and the next, you tried to muster the motivation to attempt one last search, to do one last sweep of the place for your best friend’s phone even if it was only with your eyes on the cams. But even if there wasn’t a seven-foot tall monster of a robot hunting you for sport, you didn’t have the life to keep searching. You put your hand in your pocket and felt something smooth and cool. Your best friend’s wrist watch. You wanted to cry, but you didn’t have the life for that either.

Pushing through the exhaustion and misery, you willed yourself to look for the rotted animatronic. You didn’t care how tired you were or how broken you felt, you had to find it. You had to. If only to pour every last emotion caving in your chest into hatred, to point it outward so it at least wasn’t in you. You didn’t follow Michael’s eyes, you wanted to find it on your own. 

You found it, but not through perception or wit and that burned you. The rotted, foul thing was standing right where it had been when the night started. As if it was a being with the cognizance to deceive the day shift, and by now you would be a fool to believe it wasn’t.

You were startled by an alarm going off. You quickly checked the panel, but it wasn’t yours. Instead, the alarm was the sound of a grandfather clock, and Michael’s phone was lighting up. 6:00 AM. You could’ve thrown confetti.

A bright light blinded you briefly from outside the office. It was the day shift security guard.

“Hey, Mike. Just finishing... Hi?” He said, once his eyes laid on you.

“Hi,” You replied. Michael stood up, shuffling his things. You didn’t know when, but Michael had slipped on a black face mask, hiding his more grotesque features.

“Uh, who are you?” Oh yeah, you were doing something illegal.

You looped an arm around Michael’s, leaning your body into his cold lifeless one, and he stiffened, “Michael’s my boyfriend. I’m just here to pick him up.” As you leaned into him, you were hit with a waft of spoiled cake that you promptly ignored.

“You’re, uh—to him ?” The guard seemed to be trying not to offend either of you, but it was very obvious he was shocked Michael pulled you. Good to know that even in your disheveled state you were still a few leagues above a zombie.

“Yep. Ready to go—” Your voice caught in your throat when you looked at Michael. His hollowed eyes bore into you with an unknowable emotion. You were reminded of his haunting allure you noted earlier, but fleetingly it was just haunting enough to frighten you, a small flip upturning your stomach. He didn’t take his eyes off of you even as you swallowed and managed to croak out, “ Sweetie? ”

It was deadly silent. Why didn’t the animatronic murder you when it had the chance?

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Thank god. He played along.

You gave the dayshift guard a small wave and a smile, holding Michael’s hand as you left the god-forsaken horror attraction. His flesh was cold to the touch and depressed under the pressure of your fingertips. You ignored the more visceral flip in your stomach at the realization you were touching bone.

The moment the door closed behind you, Michael swiped his hand back, but you were filled with too much relief to be offended. The air was clean, healthy —something you didn’t know you desperately needed until your lungs were filled with vitality. You felt drunk on the morning rays of light and colors that weren’t dull greens and browns. You hadn’t realized you were in hell until earth felt like heaven.

You lowered your eyes after you were able to breathe. Michael was already walking, so you followed him and said, “Thanks.” You meant it for more than pretending to be your boyfriend

“No problem,” He said, and it was strange hearing his (brittish) voice in something other than a whisper. It was raspy and scarred low but still held weight. Like a smooth narrator who had his voice shredded in a cheese grater. “You’re actually going to give me a ride home, though. The bus takes forever.”

You wondered if it was the wait or the staring from other passengers that he wanted to avoid, “Okay, sure. But I also actually need a place to stay.”

He stopped and stared at you. For the first time, you could finally discern his expression clearly. Annoyed disbelief. 

You gave him your best innocent smile, which might have ended up a grimace with how exhausted you were, “I thought I’d only stay one night so I didn’t book a hotel.”

He rolled his eyes (something that was fascinating to watch since his eyes were hollowed out voids), turned around and resumed walking. That wasn’t a no. You jogged to match pace with him and when you reached him, he held out his hand. You stared at it, before Michael snapped you out of your stupor, “The keys.”

“You want to drive?”

“You’re sleep deprived, had a concussion, and look like you might fall over.” His hollow eyes scrolled you up and down briefly as he walked.

In a more stable and coherent state, you might have been offended and argued with him. Though, if you had the strength to argue, you had the strength to drive. You put the keys in his hand.

The drive to Michael’s place passed in a blur. Scenery melted across your window as you dully pressed your arm against it, your face resting in the crook of your elbow. Your muscles felt atrophied into the passenger’s seat, your mind was numbed to a dull buzz, you stared out the window and saw nothing, and after all of the impossible things and complicated mysteries that needed explaining, you could only think collapsing into bed. Your eyes were lidded and your breathing was slow. The car’s drone was just ambient enough to calm your fused mind. The relief was enough to make you sigh.

It was only when the car came to a stop that you realized you were half asleep. Michael wordlessly got out of the car, closing the door with enough sound to wake you up completely, and you followed him mindlessly. 

You hardly had the energy to take in your surroundings, but even exhaustion wasn’t enough to keep you from wondering how a corpse lived. The answer? Incredibly boring. His flat was small, just enough room for one person, and minimally decorated. No pictures, no aesthetics or ornaments, no personal touch—you might as well have been in a stock photo if it wasn’t slightly messy. 

Michael dropped his backpack on the bills scattered across his small dining room table. He took off his mask and hat, his dark brown hair ruffled slightly, and tossed them on the table as well. As he opened the fridge he pointed nonchalantly to the bedroom door.

“Shower’s on the right.”

You guessed that meant you needed a shower. 

Michael’s bedroom had slightly more personality to it, emphasis on slightly. A few pieces of clothing were strewn about the floor, the bed was rushedly made, and empty soda cans piled in the trash bin. Though the bed called for you, you forced yourself to the bathroom anyway. 

Your reflection was haunted, just as you imagined, but you didn’t look as bad as you thought you would. Eyes bloodshot and dark circles for days, but the worse feature was the ugly yellowing bruise beginning to form around your throat. It would turn blue and purple before too long, and you swore you could make our large, thick fingers in its shape. You swallowed and turned to the shower. You didn’t want to think about that.

Steam filled the bathroom after a minute of letting the hot water run. Michael didn’t have any shampoo or conditioner. After snooping through his bathroom quickly (in case he kept them somewhere weird—and because it’s fun to snoop) you found a few dark brown wigs instead. That made sense; his hair was his most living feature. He did, however, have an endless assortment of different soaps. None of which able to mask his smell, unfortunately. 

You wondered if you would end up smelling like him? You picked the soap in your favorite scent and lathered your body in it.

Stepping out of the shower, the motion of peeling back on the clothes you sweated, cried, and vomited over was too much to even think about. Instead, you picked up a hoodie off the floor, one that seemed slightly too big for Michael, and slipped it on. Whatever damage you mended using the soap was undone the moment you put on the hoodie, but you were too tired to care. 

You could hear the TV playing from beyond Michael’s room. You couldn’t wait for him to finish whatever he was watching and you didn’t have the energy to discuss where you’d be sleeping, so you collapsed on his bed. 

You were out the moment your head hit the pillow.

───── (\ /) ─────

You woke up disoriented, aching, and somehow still drained. Weren’t naps supposed to make you less tired? Your disorientation only grew when you didn’t recognize where you were, your vision teetering back into focus. 

The fog of sleep cleared when your hand touched something spongy and cold. It was Michael’s hand. Your memory of last night (morning?) came back to you. You rolled your head over to the nightstand and instantly hissed in pain. Your neck hurt like hell and just turning made it enough to throb with pain. When the pain subsided, you slowly opened your eyes. 6:42 PM. You slept twelve hours. Your head felt like you slept three. 

You rolled your head, this time slowly and carefully, back over to Michael. He was sleeping in the bed with you, lying on his back with an arm nestled behind his pillow. For some reason, he was wearing his wig to bed. That couldn’t be comfortable.

You didn’t know when he came to bed with you or if he got a full night’s (day’s?) rest, but you couldn’t wait around for him to wake up. You poked his shoulder. “Michael.”

He grumbled, sleepily. He turned his head away from you, revealing parts of his jawbone visible through abraded skin. 

You poked his shoulder again, “Michael.” You insisted.

He swatted at you.

You smacked his shoulder, “Michael, wake up !”

He cursed, grabbing his shoulder, “ What? What—?!” Michael’s voice caught in his throat when he turned to you, his void eyes going wide. You had to be only inches apart as you stared at him, unphased by your closeness. He awkwardly shuffled away from you, scooching inch by inch to put some distance between you too. You blanked. He was the one who decided to sleep in the same bed as you, what did he have to be bashful for? “What is it.” 

“What is it?” You sat up, fistfulls of blanket in your hand as you ignored your pounding head. You tried to keep your tone controlled, but you nearly bit your own tongue in your frustration. “ What is it? A seven-foot massive bunny robot tried to kill me twice and—!”

“Rabbit,” Michael interrupted you. “Bonnie is a rabbit, not a bunny.”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“Can’t this wait until after breakfast?”

You swiped the pillow out from under his head and tried to smother him with it. After just a second of struggling with it, he easily pried it out of your hands.

“Alright, alright,” He sat up with a groan, rubbing the back of his neck. “But coffee first. No discussion.”

Your jaw tensed, but you forced yourself to relax with a worried sigh. You stood up, “Okay. How do you take your coffee?”

The corpse collapsed back into bed, swinging the pillow behind his head with closed eyes, “Four sugars, two cream.” 

You managed to navigate through Michael’s kitchen—which only had the bare necessities: minimal cutlery, meager pantry, an air fryer but no toaster—well enough to make two cups of coffee, one prepared exactly how you like yours. You organized your thoughts, figuring which questions you should ask first and how. You were having trouble sorting out the mad hell that happened last night, let alone figuring out what happened to your best friend. First you needed to know what was going on, then you could take steps on finding them. 

You sat on the bed and handed Michael his mug. He mumbled a thanks and took a few gulps, despite how scalding it was. You once again couldn’t tear your eyes off of the window in his cheeks revealing liquid rushing down his throat.

“Alright,” He said with an exhale, setting his three-quarters empty mug on the bedside table. “Who are you and why did you break into the pizzeria?”

You almost started yelling at him again, but you stopped yourself. He saved your life twice, the least you could do was go first. You lowered your eyes as Michael watched you intently, his expression betraying nothing. You pulled out your phone and played the last message your best friend sent. Michael listened without saying a word.

“Someone I care about worked the night shift before you,” You locked your phone and kept it face down in your lap. You didn’t look Michael in the eyes out of fear you might start crying. “I need to know what happened to them.”

“They’re probably dead.”

Your eyes were storms as you stared daggers at him, tears forming thick droplets, “ You don’t know that. ” The venom in your voice was tempered by its tremble.

Michael was silent as you swabbed at your tears with his hoodie you were wearing. When he spoke next, he was slower, as if treading carefully, “ If you find any answers, you won’t like them. And that’s if you don’t share their fate. Go home. ”

“ I won’t, ” You said through teeth tight enough to grind. “I won’t. Not until I find them, or-or I find what happened to them and-and—”

“And then what?” Michael challenged, “What are you going to do once you find out?”

You waved your hands in the air, frustratedly, “I’ll figure out what I want to do when we get there!”

Michael sighed, long and tired. He grabbed his mug, swirled it around for a bit, and then downed the rest of his drink. He exhaled when he was done, “I’m not going to help you get yourself killed.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” You said, stubbornly.

“Yes, you did,” He put his mug down on the bedside. “You asked me to keep him on camera eight.”

There was that ‘ him ’ again. “Okay, but I don’t need your help.”

He raised a brow, unimpressed, “Yes, you do.”

Now was the time to change the subject, “Why do you keep calling it ‘ him ’?” As if startled by your own question, you realized you hadn’t asked the ones you planned. “In fact, why is it alive? Why are you alive? And why is it trying to kill me? What happened last night?”

Michael set his jaw while you gained your breath, just realizing how worked up those questions made you. “What do you think happened last night?” He asked.

You opened your mouth while your eyes scanned the floor, as if the dingy carpet held the answer. Your brow knotted in confusion, “You call it ‘ him ’ because it’s Bonnie. Its programming makes it seem alive. You’re just really sick. It has faulty wiring. Last night was a horrible horrible accident. That’s what I was telling myself.” But even saying it now, you didn’t believe a word of it.

“Good,” He said. “You’re right.”

You trained your eyes on him, “No, I’m not.”

“For your sake, you are.”

“No.” You insisted, more determined. “I’m not.”

He exhaled sharply, “You’re too stubborn.”

“I was honest with you,” You pleaded, softening your expression in an effort to appeal to his conscience. 

He set his jaw again (you could even see the grind of his teeth through his worn skin), and though his expressions were nearly impossible to read, you were starting to recognize his tells. “Don’t come back to the attraction.”

“I can’t—”

“ They’re gone. ” He said, and he didn’t know how cruel he was being. You couldn’t even tell if he felt guilty when new tears fell down your cheeks. “Be satisfied that you didn’t share their fate.”

You wiped your tears, shaking with anger and grief. You hated Michael for saying that, for pointing out something you feared more than anything. “There was no body,” You said, weakly. Even you knew it wasn’t a great defense.

“It was probably stuffed in a costume,” He said, heartlessly. “Or in an animatronic torso. He’s anything if not consistent...” The last part he said more to himself, but you didn’t miss it.

You found your voice, “What does that mean?”

When his eyes met yours, he sighed, “Don’t come back to Fazbear’s Fright, okay?”

You bit your lip and stared holes into the floor. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and clearing your mind. Then, you nodded, tentatively.

“What do you know about the kids that went missing at the pizzeria? The one Fazbear’s Fright is based on?”

You looked back up at him before furrowing your brow in concentration, “I know a little. A bunch of kids went missing in the 80s. A lot of people thought they were murdered, but their bodies were never found. I know someone was charged, but they never found any evidence.”

“That’s because they couldn’t find the bodies.” 

You swallowed.

“They were stuffed into the animatronics.”

You couldn’t help but stare, horrified. Michael was patient with you as you fumbled through your next question, “How do you know that?”

“Because my dad did it.”

You almost reeled back in shock, “Oh my god.” You said, incredulously. Maybe a serial killer dad shouldn’t have shocked you. Afterall, you were sitting and chatting with a zombie. You still couldn’t help the surprise coming from a national cold case solved. “Wow. Uh. God.”

“Yeah,” Michael was as nonchalant as ever.

“Okay,” You said, slowly nodding. “So this old Bonnie animatronic is... is one of these kids? Or their ghost or...?”

“No,” He said. “It’s my dad.”

This time, you did reel back. “ What? ”

“Yeah.”

“... What? ”

“Yeah.”

“No, I need you to explain,” You said.

“I’m not sure,” He scratched the back of his head. “That suit, the Spring Bonnie suit, he used to lure kids. It’s a springlock suit—” He shifted when he saw your confusion, “Part animatronic, part costume, held together by sensitive spring locks that snap shut. It looks like they went off while he was still inside. Can’t say he didn’t have it coming. Too bad he didn’t stay dead.”

“Oh my god,” You wrung your face with your hands. “That’s-That’s unbelievable. I can’t-... I’m in a horror movie.” You turned to him, “ He’s still in it? ”

“Yep.”

You shook your head slowly, “How is he still alive?”

Michael shrugged.

“How are you alive?”

Michael soured, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

You didn’t push him, less for his sake and more for your own. You don’t know if you could take any more ghost stories. “A child killer is- is reanimated in the seven-foot-tall rabbit suit he killed and died in, and now wants to—What? Haunt the haunted pizzeria attraction?”

Michael shrugged, “I guess.”

You threw your hands up in the air exasperatedly, before dropping them loudly on the bed.

“He’s not... himself.” 

You sighed, “What does that mean?”

Michael shrugged again, but this time more unsure, “You saw it yourself. What serial killer would stop mid-kill just because they heard a child’s laughter?”

You almost shivered at the memory of it—monstrous creature over you, crowbar in hand, eyes distorting and twitching— but he was right, “There was something strange in its— his eyes. They looked too human, which was eerie enough, but when you... when you played the audio clip, it was like the robot was battling for control.”

Michael hummed at that, “I don’t think it’s just my dad anymore.”

“Your serial killer dad.” You said, more to mention the absurdity of the situation.

Michael wasn’t pleased by it, “Yes. My serial killer dad. Apparently he’s been stuck behind a plastered wall for thirty years, so maybe he just lost his mind. Or maybe the suit has some leftover code that he can’t control. Probably, it’s a bit of both. But...”

You waited in anticipation for him to finish.

He shook his head, “It doesn’t matter. What matters is he won’t stop until he gets what he wants, and he’s not lucid enough to listen to reason.”

“What does he want?”

“To kill.” In Michael’s low, shredded voice, his grim warning sent a shiver up your spine. “So it’s good that you're not coming back, right?”

“But what are you doing here?” You asked, “Are you trying to stop him?”

“You’re not coming back, right? ” He bore holes into you with those unnerving, hallowed eyes of his.

You swallowed, “Right.”

───── (\ /) ─────

Wrong.

You parked your car off to the side where Michael wouldn’t be able to see; in the shadow of Fazbear’s Fright.

At least, now that you knew what you were dealing with (a serial killer in the metal body of a giant rabbit—that still felt absurd) you could be prepared for it. And just like the rabbit, you wouldn’t stop until you got what you wanted. Answers. And if the answers hurt too much...

Revenge.

#springtrap #fnaf #michael afton #william afton #fnaf 3 #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's 3 #fnaf 3 security guard #five nights at freddy's 3 security guard #springtrap x reader #springtrap/reader #william afton/reader #william afton x reader #michael afton x reader #michael afton/reader #horror #mystery #romance #(kinda) #nan writes #fight tooth and nail #tw child harm #tw child murder

[violynt-skies]

So during the final battle showdown, Kusuke was like “There’s no point in challenging Kusuo without his powers, it’d just be one sided bullying” but when Kusuo first received his limiters, Kusuke tried (and failed) to attack him because he thought it’d erase his powers and he wasn’t scared by a powerless Kusuo. I wonder when did he change his mind on that and why

Sorry it took a while to respond i had to go back and reference the manga about this bc the anime doesn’t go as in depth.

I think the simplest answer to your question though is that Kusuke just grew up and matured more. He’s not the same kid he was four years ago and his views have changed on a lot of things.

as a kid, kusuke’s one main goal was just to beat kusuo, and it didn’t really matter how. In small snapshots of their kid competitions it just seems like random moments of “i bet i can do this better than you” and he couldn’t, so the moment it seemed like kusuo’s powers were taken away he jumped on the opportunity to see if he could finally win. That’s just how kids are and they act on impulse.

Now and days Kusuke’s challenges and games are much more thought out and there’s more rules and boundaries too them, in this Kusuke can even the playing field a bit more and we see Kusuo does struggle against some of his challenges. As he grew older Kusuke realized he doesn’t just want to win, he wants to win fairly, it’s one of the reasons Kusuke doesn’t use Toritsuka as a hostage. He doesn’t want unfair advantages he just wants to beat Kusuo with his own genius and strategy.

If he has a wildly upper hand then the win wouldn’t seem genuine.

(i don’t know if you’ve seen my hero academia but the best way i can describe it is the scene where bakugou and todoroki are fighting during the sports festival and bakugou wins but he’s upset bc he doesn’t count it as a “real” win because todoroki wasn’t using his full strength)

similar concept here.

Not to mention that I think when Kusuke built the power erasing limiter he did it knowing that he and Kusuo wouldn’t be able to compete as much and acknowledged that fact verbally later on when Kusuo finally does put it in.

I think just that time away from home helped him develop and mature more, as he wasn’t constantly having to compare himself to Kusuo on a daily basis.

Another thing he changed his mind on was the idea of having kusuo basically rule over humanity cause it could put an end to all these bad things, but by the end of the series he reveals that he disabled the program that would expose kusuo’s powers ages ago. As a whole he realized he cared more for his brothers personal happiness over the betterment for humanity.

now part of that decision occurred because of him looking down on humanity as a whole, but he has grown overall.

The brothers relationship does get better as he series goes on and it shows Kusuke helping Kusuo more in areas like the volcano eruption or when his powers are coming back. And in return Kusuo opens up more to the idea of these challenges with Kusuke, because these games could provide some fun for both of them if done correctly. (we have akechi to thank for that as he was the one who really showed Kusuo that option)

that turned out to be a little longer than expected but i hope i answered ur question loll. Thanks for the ask!

#some ppl rlly hate on kusuke and his relationship w kusuo #but personally i’ve always thought that there’s def room for growth and potentially btwn the two of them #i’ll probably go more in-depth on the two later #but for now #i just love their dynamic w each other and think that as of rn #they don’t actually hate each other #they just need to take some time to clear the air and heal their relationship #saiki k #disastrous life of saiki k #saiki #saiki no psi nan #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #kusuo saiki #kusuke saiki #saiki brothers #kusuke #ask me #akechi #akechi touma

[prettyblfan]

Eyes Don’t Lie - Pete x Way

Way knows that the last thing he should be doing right now is throwing a pity party. Especially, since he’s thrown one every single time that Babe has chosen Charlie over him. Which is every single god damn time.

However, anyone with common sense would say otherwise, that Babe isn’t picking anyone. Yet for some reason that’s how it feels, how it always feels. It’s even felt this way with his other boys, even when Way knew Babe would always pick him in the end. Unfortunately, this time Babe doesn’t pick him.

Throwing back another glass of whiskey, Way considers his options. Breaking apart Babe and Charlie is easy, he done it plenty of times now to know that. Their relationship is fragile at best, even without him using his ability. Yet for some reason they always find their way back to each other, like fate.

‘Bullshit’ Way mutters under his breath.

His head lolls to the side as he ponders it. Fate. The whole concept of it sets his blood on fire because why are his a Babe’s fate so heavily intertwined. Especially when he can’t have him, when he has to suffer silently by his side. The simple observer to a love story that isn’t his but one that he so desperately wants.

“Another two drink, please”.

Way recognises instantly the voice that pulls him out of his thoughts, he knows exactly who it belongs to. Mr Pete - the CEO of their teams sponsor. The most unnerving thing is not that he doesn’t hear him coming but instead that he doesn’t sense him. Pete just seemed to materialise out of nowhere.

He’s not in the mood to act right now, to plaster a smile on his face and engage in boring small talk. In then though that’s what he does. He smiles and greets him politely.

Pete eyes as always are pools of black that he can’t ever get a read on. Yet they’re soft and gentle, what Way hates the most because it feels like they see right through him. Like Pete automatically knows that he’s here drowning his thoughts. Pete’s following statements are what makes it ring true to Way.

Or maybe he’s just being paranoid.

His scent had long gone sour even before he arrived. It isn’t usually distinctive anyway, he doesn’t like it that way and judging by Pete’s lack of scent it’s probably the same. Which is weird, why wouldn’t a man in a position of power not want to flex his Enigma status. It’s obvious why Way doesn’t flaunt his, because Babe sees it as a challenge and frankly doesn’t like the smell of it (even if he’s never said it). All the things he does and choices he makes, all somehow lead back to Babe.

Pete for the most part is silent company as Way continues to drown his worries away. However, whenever Way glances at him, his eyes are already on him, as if time itself has paused within those deep pools. There's a poetic intensity in the way Pete stares, as if he's glimpsing a fleeting moment, a rare masterpiece that will vanish with the echoes of the night.

Way has always been good at reading eyes, but he can’t make sense of what he sees in Pete’s. Yet for some reason he knows he hates it. The intensity is undeniable, a silent symphony that plays with his emotions.

Then he speaks after what seems like an eternity..“You should slow down”.

It’s not a command, he knows it’s not he can tell that alone with Pete’s soft and gentle tone. But it spikes his scent - sharp and crisp. He knows Pete smells it even before they lock eyes.

It’s at this point Way knows he’s had enough to drink, an Enigma challenging another one is ridiculous.

Then it hits him.

He’s not bristled by the statement alone but its tone. It’s condescending. Pete is talking to him as if he’s a child, no, rather someone that needs taken care of.

Way hates that it sets a fire at the bottom of his stomach. He doesn’t need to be taken care of, he isn’t soft or delicate he doesn’t need gentle treatment.

Right?

However, Way doesn’t feel the tears that roll down his face, he doesn’t even notice when they start. What he does feel is Pete’s thumb softly wiping them away. It’s a pointless endeavour as they don’t stop. In fact Way thinks those gentle hands make it worse.

The silence between them seemed to get louder, even with the club behind buzzing with noise and energy.

Way, who had been looking passed Pete up until this point, regrets more than anything meeting his eyes again. Despite the blurriness caused by his tears, Way can make out the look in his eyes and it’s the same fucking look that he can’t truly decipher other than being soft.

“Don’t look at me like that, like I’m worth something”

It’s a whisper and Way hopes that he doesn’t hear it. Hear the temporary crack in composure, the break in his facade. He blames it on the alcohol and lack of medication, he isn’t weak nor is he someone who needs taken care of.

Pete’s thumb doesn’t stop wiping at the tears falling from his eyes and in that club, he’s the only one that will ever know.

That Way’s eyes don’t lie unlike the rest of him.

~

❤️because I have a soft spot for them❤️

#pit babe the series #pit babe #pit babe ep 7 #pit babe way #pit babe Pete #thai bl #boys love #thai series #fanfic #thai drama

[eyfey]

Hi! I've discovered something in an online discussion that Saiki can't change his hair color? They said, "Saiki explained that the reason why he uses hypnosis to make people see others as him, rather than just transforming himself, and why he possesses people to get things done than transforming into them is because he can’t change his hair color. that's why when he explained his transformation power, his examples of turning into animals always had a pink color" I don't remember these but which chapters are these shown because this is interesting haha thank you!

Hello! I don't recall him ever saying he can't change his hair color, or that he could only transform into pink animals- if it was in one of the like... novels or extra books or a tweet by the author then maybe I missed it, but I'm pretty sure they don't say it in the manga.

I do vaguely remember Asou sensei tweeting something like Saiki always has his limiters on when he transforms (and they're just invisible when he's Kuriko) but I can't find the tweet so I can't double check the exact wording on that lol

(more under the readmore)

In chapter 29 where they introduce transformation he explains that he can transform into any living thing (including people animals and bugs), but that it takes 2 hours to transform, and that he can't turn into someone/something that already exists (the Japanese for this part is 実在するモノにはなれない and the best I can understand it is it means he can't transform a doppleganger of an already existing person/animal... but there's no explanation why he wouldn't be able to so I dunno if there's some other meaning I'm missing here??)

As for why he used the mind control instead of transforming his hair- the most likely answer is simply "it's something the author just wrote as a joke to explain why everyone has colorful hair". It was first brought up in ch4 but like... all he says is "pink hair was unusual so I mind controlled everyone to think it was normal".

There was no explanation that he didn't have any other options (like I'm sure he could've also just dyed it normally) but I'd be willing to bet that transformations wear off after some time, or maybe it takes effort to maintain a transformation? (in ch249 his transformation power wears off when he returns to the present so it's probably not something he can hold forever). Or maybe he thought mind control would be easier?

As for the reason he possesses people instead of transforming it's probably that "he can't become someone who already exists" thing, and also "it takes 2 hours to transform" so like it's not exactly convenient.

Ultimately though Saiki is a gag manga so like I feel like there really isn't that much thought put into Saiki's powers past whatever rules would make it funny/interesting for the chapter loll

#saiki asks

[larkscribbles]

A Gruesome Recollection

[AO3] 1,655 words

One of Paracelsus’ new companions brings back memories she would rather forget. She questions if the past or current events will consume her first.

[Spoilers for Darkest Dungeon 2! Plague Doctor’s backstory!]

___

It was a rare occurrence, but the man sitting across from Paracelsus unsettled her. The stagecoach rattled and ambled along through the winding roads of The Tangle, acres from its destination. Sheets of rain hammered down on the wooden roof. Its occupants had fallen into anything but a comfortable silence - they knew what they were - a ragtag team of strangers on a borderline suicidal mission. They sought the mountain that was supposedly the source of the ruin of the world. They knew not what they had to face but they would. It was their only option. There was no turning back. She kept her hands tightly on her lap, balled into knuckles. The plague doctor hoped her beaked mask hid the fact she was staring, neck rigidly locked into place facing head on whilst her eyes strained to the very corner of her vision. She couldn’t tear her gaze away. The afterimage was burned into her mind, regardless. The truth was the thing that introduced itself as Damian, in a low rasping voice, could not be called a man.

The thing sat entirely still, back to the wall, limbs sprawled out as if it was dead. This illusion was only broken by the fact he wheezed like a dog, chest rattling as a visible rib cage barely rose and fell. His skin was too tight, the bones of his form standing out too starkly. Veins pulsed and strained, bringing scarce traces of blood around the little of his body that remained intact. The flesh that was present in patchy abundance was discoloured and rotting. He had no nose, only a skeletal hole in his face. The lower half of his face morphed into an array of teeth, no lips, a scrap of chin remained adhered to his skull to give a faint illusion of a face.

He was a corpse.

No.

Paracelsus paused and tried to be rational. He was not a corpse, he was alive. Somehow. The dead walked among them but this was different - he was different. The woman broke into a sweat, stomach lurching, flushing hot and cold at the same time. In a cruel twist of irony this was not the first time she had seen such a spectacle. She shook her head vehemently to try and dispel the recollection. Whether she liked it or not her scientific mind would desperately compare the two - what was the same? What was different? Why? Hypotheses whirled in her head before she was snapped back to a different time entirely.

Damian reeked of rot and decay, the bone of his skeletal right hand was stained a toxic green. It dripped occasionally.

The body had been fresher, smelling of preservatives. Once it started moving it had begun to rip itself apart, twisting and tearing at the seams, blood pooling on the floor, crimson staining what remained of its fingernails.

This was not the best train of thought but it continued regardless; against her wishes.

Damian could talk.

It wasn’t a horrible wet wailing that rang in her ears, lips and teeth flecked with blood. A ghost of the disease - tuberculosis - still lingered within the ghost of a man.

Damian’s organs remained within his body.

Her surgical suture had been good, top of her class even, but it was a different matter of reconfiguring a corpse to adhere to your own theories. The digestive tract had been a tough one - the duodenum burst free from its fixtures as the corpse got shakily, unexpectedly, to its feet, the tube of flesh hanging loosely between its knees. His tongue lolled out, hanging helplessly from his mouth. She had stood there. The moment stretched on. Panicked. Calculating. She had not anticipated his revival to be so soon. The rush of adrenaline mingled with excitement blinded her to the stark reality. He was alive again! It was a miracle! A miracle created by her own genius!

Damian was a religious zealot. There were no two ways about it. The question was did his undeath stem from? It was fragile, surely, given his current state. Not based within the realms of science, that was certain. Perhaps the occult? He occasionally blathered about “the Light”, but the surgeon was unsure if he truly represented any semblance of the holy order or was some corrupted offshoot. Further research on the matter would be required.

The stagecoach protested loudly, wheels screaming, walls shuddering, windows flaring a deep horrifying blue, as it vaulted through a leaking wound in the fabric of reality - an oblivion tear. Pure Loathing. The horses whinnied, suddenly wild at the ungodly howl that filled the air. The party’s minds reeled, the searing light illuminating the deepest recesses of their minds. Forcing them to relive their mistakes. They all withdrew into themselves, glassy distant eyes overshadowed, muttering and murmuring to themselves as if that would make it better. Paracelsus’ haunting that had already been lingering was abruptly thrust into the forefront of her mind. She stifled a gasp. Hot, angry, ugly surges of emotion followed, each member tempted to direct the remnants of their self disgust at their teammates. The thread of cooperation tying them together threatened to fray. It was too much. They weren’t even going to make it to the mountain! They were all going to die ages before that. She wanted to scream, to cry, to rip her hair out, to- to-!

Her rationality snatched her back from the brink, preventing her from making a mistake she would regret.The plague doctor swallowed, trying to dispel the lump in her throat. Her trembling gloves adjusted the askew plague mask. The effect of the Loathing had subsided but she remained shaken. The truth of the matter was she hadn’t known enough. She still didn’t know enough. For all her theories, all her work and expertise, she was haunted by her actions. She had not defeated death or overcome it, winning once did not secure a victory, it had been an illusion, an anomalous data point. Irreplicable. What she had done was only snatch a piece of life back. The barest of functions. She interlaced her fingers, bracing herself and allowed the final dregs of the train of thought to follow through.

Damian - whatever had happened to him, granted him this state of undeath had allowed him to retain his sentience.

What Paracelsus had brought back was far from human.

Now clearer headed, she decided that the flagellant’s mere presence enraged her. How dare he. How dare he when she could not! She did not cower now, she stared the thing down with daggers. The man was blissfully unaware, picking at his wounds like a child. Paracelsus wanted to tell him he was an idiot. That course of action would surely get them infected- more infected- and-

The stagecoach began to slow to a stop, the yellow flame of hope mounted on top beginning to dim, pulled by an unseen hand in the direction of the disturbance. The air around them shifted to a noise worse than silent, the air ringing hollow. The aberrant blue motes of Loathing in the air shifted to something darker - fragmented pieces of shadow floated listlessly through the air. The oblivion’s rampart sat askew half buried, having forced its way through the muddied forest ground. It shouldn’t have been there and yet it was; much like the inhuman horrors that stalked the obelisk.

“Cultists.” Damian hefted his flail, a creeping excitement finding its way into his voice. The flagellant slung the weapon over his shoulder, eagerly making his way to the door - to the fight. The plague doctor gathered her supplies, gripping the strap until she felt the blood leave her fist. Shaken and demoralized, the weight of her failure and misdeeds hung heavy on her mind. She had clearly lingered a little too long - startled by the hand on her shoulder.

“I get it, I don’t like a corpse staring me down, either. Plain freaky if you ask me.” Audrey’s voice was low but her clipped upper class accent remained. “But he’s all we have in terms of a meat shield.”

“We’re doing good. Protecting those who cannot protect themselves.” Barristan, the man-at-arms, interjected gruffly whilst hoisting his armoured bulk out of the exit. Clearly he did not wish to linger and leave their companion to his own devices.

The graverobber straightened, surprised she had been overheard. She recovered quickly, mouth quirking into a well-practiced smile. “What he said. Now, come along, I would rather have you patch my wounds than that thing.”

Paracelsus stood, squared her shoulders and took deep breaths, forcing her mental anguish and possibly relevant snippets of science into her back pocket. She hadn’t heard Audrey leave but she was certain she was alone. Breathe. She would focus on the moment.

She would patch wounds. She was an adept surgeon and doctor after all. They would surely die without her.

They were doing good - actual visible discernable good. It was a rare occurrence nowadays. She could do good. She would do good.

The flame of hope danced. The plague doctor promised herself she would avert death properly - for herself and her allies. Without it they would be doomed, the world would be doomed. Part of her argued back, their fate didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, there would be another stagecoach regardless of whether they succeeded or failed - she had seen that much at the crossroads. She banished the thought, palming her vials in her bag. She wasn’t the only one with a troubled past. All their rag tag group could do now was move forwards, to best these horrors and keep hope alive. Whether they would find death or redemption was anybody’s guess but they would be damned not for trying. The flicker of fire was stronger now, spitting angrily. Emboldened with ambition, the plague doctor followed her companions into the gloom to face the future head on.

#Larkscrawls #fanfiction #fanfic #darkest dungeon #darkest dungeon 2 #plague doctor #flagellant #Paracelsus #Damian #writing #man at arms #grave robber #Audrey #barristan #italics mega messed up for some reason #aka not here rn sorry

[chasingpj]

HEYY OMG CONGRATS ON 1K <333

can i have a **bow and arrow emoji** please? she/her, cabin 6 (athena cabin), no powers but preferred weapons are throwing knives. uhh idk what else to say, ig im pretty intelligent and very, very sarcastic?? ive also been told that im funny, and in terms of mbti im an estp, enneagram type 8, and a capricorn if any of that helps lol. tysm, and congrats again!! oh yeah and i have adhd, which is one of the reasons why i love pjo sm loll <3 tysm!!

HEYYY! Thank you so much!

okay first of all, you being a capricorn and then reading your personality type matches up so well lmao anyways, i hope you enjoy this!

Cabin/Friends

i can see the athena cabin is a very tight knit group because you guys can truly regard each other as like-minded individuals

with that being said, i think your closest friendships are with your siblings

judging from your personality though, i think you and annabeth would be pretty close! 

annabeth is the one who does your orientation and sets you up with everything you need 

at first the two of you were very neutral to each other as you settled in 

the beginning of your friendship started in mythology class when Chiron asked about a myth you really enjoyed

you raised your hand at the same time as annabeth did and chiron took a moment to decide who he was going to pick 

he picked you

it only felt right since this was your first time in class... 

annabeth had already spoken plenty this year

you shared some details and answered his question flawlessly

but annabeth, of course, had to chime in

suddenly, you were in this back and forth with her. a silent competition on who knew more about the topic 

you won, obvs...

and annabeth is a sore loser

from then on, you and your sister had started your friendly, but not so friendly competition and slowly, it did bring you closer to her

Finding your Niche

you found your preferred weapon from your competition with annabeth as well 

even though you just arrived, you confidently sparred with her after some lessons 

you got beat up a few times

actually, a lot 

but it only motivated you to get better

at some point, you kinda felt turned off by the whole sword fighting thing

it didn't feel right and when you told annabeth, she suggested maybe you should try archery

you had some impressive aim

the apollo kids were quick to claim you as their surrogate sister

with some training, you were doing well with a bow and arrow but after a while, it didn’t feel right either

it wasn’t until you took it upon yourself to head to the armory

you figured that maybe looking at the many options would help since the first few times you were in there, you had quickly decided on a sword or the bow and arrows 

nyssa saw you at the displays of weapons  

as time passed and you were still there, she decided maybe she could help you

you say it was fate because in her hands was a sling that was designed to hold four small daggers across your chest 

something in your brain just clicked and she was more than willing to give it to you, happy you were so excited for something she made

It was history from then on, you picked your daggers with care and soon you were flinging them at bullseyes with precision 

Reputation at Camp

everyone knows you and Annabeth are best friends

at some point, in your early years at camp, there wasn’t a time where someone saw you two apart

as you flourish into your own person however, i think you’d be recognize for your leadership skills, and your humor

i think the Stoll's would have a good time around you

the banter would be unmatched and your snarky, witty remarks definitely keep them entertained

with the younger campers, you’ve volunteered enough for programs and events at camp so they all know you 

a lot of them look up to you, hoping they’d be as confident and as good as a fighter as you

especially during SOM when the borders where down, you played a big role  

capture the flag was hard for you to participate at first because you can’t really throw knives without impaling people

beckendorf gave you a solution though and made you replicas of your daggers but they’re completely plastic and blunt

so you’re also known at the girl who throws plastic daggers at people during capture the flag lmao

the best part is that some of the campers will make a scene as if they’ve actually been impaled and throw themselves on the floor

it’s always fun 

still training in the archery fields, you’ve established yourself with the apollo campers pretty well 

they’re always a fun crowd to hang out 

they make you participate in karaoke, always 

also reprimand you when you’ve been up studying, or reading all night 

fletcher makes a comment on your eyebags, literally all the time, even if you’ve had a good night's rest

overall, you’d be well acquainted with everybody

being close with annabeth means you took on many projects together and it helped setting your reputation 

Quest

your first quest would be a few years into camp 

unlike annabeth, you weren’t as eager but a part of you knew you were ready

you were strong and capable in your weaponry and fought plenty of monsters at this point 

you fought annabeth pretty often and recently, you’ve been kicking her ass so you were definitely a lot more confident 

the quest was to retrieve Athena’s aegis breastplate 

It was a pretty big deal 

Especially since you were specifically chosen for it 

Annabeth was excited for you, willing to go but she was caught up with Percy’s stuff

Chiron told you to choose wisely about who would come with you but you already had two in mind

Bringing your brother, Malcolm was a no brainer 

After you and Annabeth he was the best fighter in the cabin and being older, he had a lot of knowledge that could be useful 

Your second? 

Connor Stoll

It was only right 

Who would understand a thief more than a thief himself?

Connor was also so hype to get on a quest

Overall, it was pretty smooth 

If you ignore the few hours you were trapped a cell 

Which could have been completely avoidable if Connor had noticed the bobby pins in your hair sooner 

By the end of the quest, Malcolm was sick of you two 

Between you and Connor feeding off each other’s energy causing you two to be absolute menaces and then bickering on top of that? He was so ready to get this done

After a long journey out west and then a long journey back to NYC, you had returned the shield 

Athena had thanked you and a few days later, you were gifted a breastplate that was identical to the one you retrieved for her 

Annabeth was a little jealous 

But couldn’t help and geek out with you about how cool it was

Legacy

Your quest really set you on the map

I mean, you have a really bad ass piece of armor that you wore all the time 

The face of aegis right on the front of your body, it’s intimidating 

You helped lead in the wars as well 

In the Battle of Manhattan, you were leading the chunk of CHB on the other side of the city and wiped out plenty of monsters

All in all, you have the reputation of being a great leader and soldier 

The younger campers in your cabin and even the campers that will come years later will know your name along with Annabeth 

Plenty of them strive to be recognized by your mother and hope to receive such an honorable gift such as your breastplate 

When you leave for New Rome and retire from the demigod life, you can be proud of the reputation you left behind 

#xeni's ask box #xeni's 1k celebration

[captmickey]

✏️ “This wasn’t suppose to end in murder guys, we talked about this.”

“This wasn’t supposed to end in murder, guys. We talked about this.”

“Did we? Or did you just boldly assume we talked?”

Guybrush just stared at Bugeye who had his arms crossed, staring at the captain with a raised brow. “I mean… kinda? Last week?” Guybrush shrugged. “Wally had that slideshow and everything.”

Bugeye just rolled his eyes in response, adjusting the bandages around his knuckles.

“It was actually about the proper etiquette to fighting, sir.” Winslow clarified. “Had nothing to do about the ending of lives of other pirates who, for example, boarded your ship at three in the bloody morning. Honestly, the nerves of these brutes… thinking they could get the jump on us while we were supposedly asleep.”

“Also, they’re not dead.” Van Helgen added, tightening the rope on the four very bloodied and very unconconscious pirates. “Not entirely, anyways.”

“Aye, they’re mostly dead.” Haggis chipped in, as if that was going to make the situation any less grim then what it currently was.

“You’re welcome.” Bill grumbled while Winslow was treating him.

Guybrush gently gave a kick to the pirates, getting only a beaten groan as their heads lolled to the side. “What are we supposed to do with them? Never really got into this kinda situation before…”

“Really?” Van Helgen placed his hands on his hips.

“You tied me and my crew up in the past…” Bugeye muttered.

“Yeah, but you were all conscious. And then you all joined DeCava… and got eaten–”

“Okay, no stop. Point made. Just shut up.”

The captain just grinned as he looked at Van Helgen. “So, yeah, no clue what to do. I usually got either mutinied or I just escaped. I never um… had mostly dead– ugh, unconscious pirates tied up and beaten black and blue before. So what’s the protocol?”

“Well, we could toss them into the ocean. That’s option one. Another one being we can hold them captive here as prisoners… that’s the second option, granted it’s a more, well, intense one–”

“We can also straight up murder.” Bugeye pointed out.

“Finish the job.” Bill added, sounding what Guybrush could best describe as giddy by Bill’s standard. 

Guybrush, Van Helgen, Haggis and Winslow looked at one another, not sure if it was the best approach but it was understandable why the two would be annoyed. They were winning the poker game the six of them were in while the others were out at port for a much needed break from everyone and their shenanigans. 

“Or…” Haggis slowly interjected himself in, “we could take any valuables from their ship and then send them off. We’ve done so in the past, granted, more amicably.”

Guybrush nodded. “Let’s go with that.”

He ignored Bill and Bugeye’s protest as he honestly had enough fighting and mostly murders for one night.

#mickey writes #monkey island #Threepwood Clan

[gins-potter]

🖊️ + rose + pets! 🥺

Ahhhh thank you so much for sending this one and giving me any opportunity to write about Rose and animals. I'm fairly certain this one was prompted by a convo we were having in the server about how Rose deserves a dog so voila. With a touch of angst because why not?

.

It wasn’t a good day.

It wasn’t a good day; it was the middle of the semester so the kids were at school, Dimitri had already left for his shift when Rose had woken that morning, and in their place in the empty house stood the ghosts of her past.

Natalie had stared back at her in the bathroom mirror.  Victor had watched her, gaze heavy with judgement, while she’d made breakfast.  Mason had been waiting outside when she’d left the house.  The Dragomirs had lined the driveway while she’d pulled out in her car.

Why you? their stares seemed to say.  Why did Lissa save you and not us?

Why did I die while you survived, she could have sworn Mason hissed as she passed.

Even Victor and Natalie.  You killed us.  You killed us and got away with it.

Dimitri was on shift, Lissa had important meetings all day, Christian was teaching, Sydney and Adrian were away on business, and Rose was running out of options of who she could turn to.  Who might be able to help chase away the ghosts and the shadows.  She aimed her car towards Eddie and Mia’s place only a few streets away but changed her mind, chucking a left turn without indicating much to the annoyance of the car behind her.

Space was at a premium at Court so it always surprised Rose how much real estate Maria managed to nab for her dog breeding and training business.  The shopfront was modest at best, a smallish room big enough for a glorified table masquerading as a front desk for general enquiries.  But it opened out onto a massive outdoor space bordered by kennels with plenty of space for the hounds to run around.

Rose parked out front and headed inside, letting herself through the back and outside where she could see Maria working with some of the psi-hounds, training them to take commands from their future masters.  She glanced up at Rose, her ancient face seeming to devolve into yet more wrinkles as an expression of faint surprise appeared.

“I wasn’t expecting you today,” she croaked and Rose shrugged,  the gesture hardly making her feel like the approaching middle-aged wife and mother that she was.  A bit like Yeva, Maria had the ability to make her feel like a teenager all over again.

“I didn’t have a shift or anything else to do today.  Figured you might need some help.”

Maria blinked and cocked her head, her face revealing nothing.  “Fine,” she said finally, almost sounding impatient now as if Rose were holding her up.  “Almost time for the lunchtime feed.”

The familiar movements of hauling out the large bags of kibble were so comfortable that Rose could almost ignore the way Tasha was trailing after her.  The psi-hounds growled at her approach as they usually did but quickly got over it when they saw what she beheld.  As a dhampir it was always a little harder for her to win over any of the canines but especially the hounds.  The dogs, who would be adopted out as pets once they'd finished the basic training Maria offered, were friendlier and she was greeted by lolling tongues and wagging tails when she headed to their kennels.

Rose usually didn’t allow herself to get attached to any of the canines that Maria bred, knowing that they would all go to royals eventually, but there was one Australian Shepherd that she’d involuntarily grown close to, breathing a little sigh of relief every time she turned up and he was still there.

“Hey, boy,” she said, letting herself into his kennel, the last in the row and filling up his bowl.

But he didn’t swoop upon it straight away as all the other canines had, instead regarding her with serious eyes, one a bright dazzling blue, and the other the colour of warm hot chocolate, so Rose flopped onto the warm concrete beside him, reaching out a hand to stroke his soft fur.

Tasha approached the kennel, her gaze cold and accusatory and Rose shut her eyes to block it out, taking a small comfort at the feeling of the shepherd’s head thumping down on her thigh, a feeling she hadn’t felt since her beloved German Shepherd, Zeus, had passed several years earlier.  She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed it.

Tasha’s presence lingered outside the kennel and Rose sucked in a deep breath before letting it out again, trying to remember what her therapist had told her to do in these situations.

“Not real, not real, not real,” she murmured under her breath.  Tasha was not real.  The concrete, warm and hard, was real, the softness of the dog bed beside her was real, the barking of the other canines was real. The shepherd leaning his head on her leg looking for a scratch behind the ears, he was real.  The warm puffs of his breath against her skin, that was real.  The silky strands of fur between her fingers, they were real.

Rose slowly opened her eyes and Tasha was gone.

In her place, Maria stood, hands on her hips and one eyebrow raised.  Rose braced herself to be yelled at for mucking around; it didn’t matter that she came to help out in her time off from work, Maria still thought that she could order her around just the same, but far from annoying her as it would have as a teenager, now it just amused Rose.

But Maria didn’t yell.  Instead she just jerked her chin at the dog by Rose’s side.  “Keep him if you want,” she grunted in the same no-nonsense way she had when she’d dumped Zeus in her arms nearly a decade before.

Rose’s eyes widened in surprise.  “What?”

“He’s a troublemaker who won’t learn.  Reminds me of you,” she added with a scowl.  “No one will want him and you need a dog, yes?  Keep him.”

Rose blinked and glanced down at the dog, who was still just a puppy, butt already wiggling with excitement.  A slow smile started to unfurl across her face as she picked the puppy up and hoped that Dimitri wouldn’t mind the surprise when he got home.

#1k follower celebration #mywriting #answered #vampire academy #rose hathaway #richelle i respect you but i humbly say that animals not liking dhampirs is bullshit

[bytchysylvy]

SCANNER VS PHOTO (phone) OBSERVATIONS AND GRIEVANCES

COLOR

the scanner is way better about preserving the right hue except when it comes to reds. sometimes it preserves it really cool red but it pulls too much from oranges. The scanned colors on casarin are almost exact, the photographed colors on alex are almost an exact match; the photo doesnt capture the red in the shadows of casarin’s hair (idk why i picked that the shade nevermind that) and alex’s yellow orange and skin are too dark leaning too red.  the orange i use for oasis and alex is warmer than the one i use for latikam and susarikas (salmon), irl they look almost the same, the scanner will turn the salmon straight up pink. Worth mentioning this example is after contrast editing but its still very apparent before any adjustments.

TOP - what they look like irl BOTTOM - what the scan says they are (various samples to account for slight variations ect)

TEXTURE

scanner preserves crisp lines better. everybody knows this. But it always has a grain to it. When taking into a program and doing more linework there I think its the better option since is vibes with the digital textures better imo. But after editing and everything else i dont think its noticeable. In colors it KILLS. Scanner looks like the vision of a man dying of radiation, photo clearly has paper texture. Its most notable in alex’s hat. There’s also this strange haloing on the lines with the photo. No idea why. I think its something exclusive to my phone. To be expected the more the contrast has to be edited the worse it all gets. 

Scanner reduces the watercolor edge look, photo seems to amplify it. My phone does this to all photos i hate it. Normally I like watercolor edge but Im shit at evenly applying color so its working against me i think. These are alcohol markers btw not watercolors. Its a side effect of the fact I dont know how to color. The scanner drags my uneven coloring further though. Especially in faces. I hope we all die.

Not a fan of the speckling but thats a paper issue more than anything as far as i know. I used this paper since it was like the second best about that. Overall I dont think I can win. They’ll just always look better in person. You had to be there. 

EDITING

when im doing just lines it never matters lol. Scanner is better in preserving crisp, matching the digital noise texture vibe unintentionally, and keeping the paper level and flat. But I have 13 years experience I can salvage linework from the shittiest of photos without much more effort lol so I’m kind of a spoiled brat about this one.

Scanner will keep the white FFFFFF, and washes out everything else. Photos are a mixed bag. Overall I think I ended up using about the same settings in the end loll? But photos I have to account for the ambient color (even on an overcast I got a slight yellow, idk man) and the fact I cant take a straight non blurry photo. Though overall I think photos take being edited better. I feel like im not riding such a fine line between overedited grainy ass nam flashback lookin bullshit. I know that’s perfect for sf vibes but I want to be in control of it at least.

MATERIALS FOR REFERENCE

Strathmore marker paper I think

sakura micron 01 black; sakura gelly roll white 10 (you can color over the white with the copics btw i didnt know that)

copics e33 e11 e25 r39 bg93 y23 (shading rv99); e30 y23 yr15 yg67 (shading bg96 bg99)

photo taken in overcast afternoon by window but also a single warm lightbulb in the background which is probably where I was getting that slight yellow from now that I think about it. there were 45mph gusts today so. :/

idk what my scanner is i doubt it matters its cheap you think i have money after getting copics lmao lol lol ha

#I could not find JACKSHIT about this so im making it #copic #alcohol markers #my art

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: You Always Meet Twice

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37455736/chapters/98334576

Chapter 14

After that horrible fight, Morrie feared the worst. He didn't feel guilty this time. He knew he had only done what was right, at least tried to get Nick back to his senses. To give him a sign. The day after, Morrie went home to trash all the pills. He didn't feel bad about it anymore. In fact, it felt good to get rid of them. A little triumph for himself. This stuff would never mess up Nick's life. The substitutes, however, would. There was a nagging pain in his stomach he knew he wouldn't get off until he met Nick again and saw him being well.

Back in Nick's home, the golden god himself was still absent. Testing the band, Morrie found out that they didn't hold a grudge against him for keeping the pills and he was very thankful for that. It would've been so easy to put all the blame on him, it had been his idea after all. But even though they didn't say much and didn't talk about last night's events they made clear that they didn't point this at him. They were still in this together. Morrie didn't say much either, he was out of words, only waiting for Nick to come back. He began to watch TV with them more frequently. Uncle Jack had such a soothing voice. He now understood why the friendly man was everyone's favourite host. He distracted his mind from everything around him, for a few minutes at least. Watch Jack dressing up as all these historical figures, or listen to his bedtime stories. Why not? Why the hell not?

Like this, he survived the time until the Lightbearer stormed into the living room again and clapped his hands, waking them up from their stasis. “Alright, guys, that's enough lolling around for today. We have an album to finish!” Everyone jumped up. Of all the possible reunions, this was the best Morrie could imagine. Just them making music, and making amends on the way. Nobody protested. It was a nice surprise.

Nick was really serious about this. He had it all planned out. They worked the entire day on one song, to play it exactly the way Nick wanted it. They had to record their tracks multiple times until he was content. They had to put the right vibes into the record, as he said. If someone got distracted from this purpose, Nick insisted he could hear it through the track and they had to do it again. Morrie struggled to emit the right vibes after the umpteenth time of recording. But he had to admit that Nick did a great job motivating him. Whatever he had said about being uninspired or boring, it was gone. He made him feel like he could shatter the world with his chords. So he repeated Nick's melodies over and over until the song was finished. Nick was happy and thus everyone else was happy as well. Morrie even missed the vanilla smell on Nick that day and wondered – had he gotten used to it so he couldn't sense it anymore or did Nick actually not take Joy? The second option made this day even brighter.

The second day in the studio, Morrie was motivated enough to propose his own songs. However, it seemed that Nick wasn't too fond of his bandmates' efforts. At first, he only gave him a merciful smile and then went on with his own plan. But Morrie didn't let go, causing Nick to give him an irritated look that reminded Morrie of his audition, when he had put off Nick with his name alone. But Morrie, as always, didn't give up. He felt himself justified by the last events. Nick seemed to need a few gentle pushes into the right direction, to become again what he once had been, before his oldest friend had left him. Morrie was still determined to fill that role, so he used his most charming voice on him, assuring him that he was only there to lend him a hand.

But whatever he tried, he didn't get the desired answer from Nick. When Matt even butted in with an idea, Nick became more irritated and turned to Morrie: “What's this now? Another joke? I'm not in the mood for that right now.” Suddenly, all eyes were on Morrie. A lump formed in the pianist's throat. “No, Nick, we're just...helping”, he stuttered. “Helping, again.” Nick scoffed at him. Louder, he added: “Wasn't I clear last time? I don't need your bloody help! I'm fine! Just stop messing with my shit and we'll all be good!” “But, Nick...” Morrie wondered if there was a polite way to say it. “Aren't we a part of the band, too? Why can't we...participate in this a little?” He didn't like Nick's look at all, so he quickly added: “You're doing all this work and...You really don't have to do this alone. We're a team right?” Please, say yes, he inwardly begged.

Nick still didn't look happy. He eyed the other band members that appeared to be very uncomfortable about this situation. “Is this what you think, too?” His eyes glared at Matt. The bassist nervously scratched his arm and produced: “I...I mean we're in your band for a long time now and we never....maybe this time we could have a few songs...” Nick stared him down. “A...at least one? Come on, Nick! Give us a chance!” Without an answer for him, Nick eyed the other two. “Hear him out”, Brad offered. “You can still refuse if it's horseshit.” “Huh, yeah...”, Chris answered. Morrie wasn't sure if he was sarcastic or just trying to not be slaughtered by his band leader. Nick's voice was now very quiet. “Ah, I see...I see...” Morrie was shocked to hear that this formation of the Make Believes had been mere background musicians for Nick so far. It wasn't Terris who messed him up. This went deeper.

In an attempt to save this, he stepped forward and reached out for his idol's shoulders. “Nick...” That woke him up, but only made him back away with a disgusted face. “Excuse me...”, he muttered. Then he strutted out of the room. The band stood frozen and watched their leader go. Except for Morrie, who shouted after Nick. It was a short outbreak, only a tiny drop of the panic that bubbled up inside him, before someone firmly held him back. Morrie looked at the drummer and understood. But it hurt to stay back. They were left with one and half songs. He didn't know if he should cry or laugh about this.

He heard Chris take a deep breath. “You could've prepared us for this, you know? So I could decide if I even bother to get out of bed today.” “Prepared for what?”, Morrie shouted at him, now having found a target for all his bottled-up anger. “For acting like a band? For something that's completely normal in any other band but this? What about you? Why did you never prepare me for whatever this is? Why doesn't Nick let us have anything? Why are we even here? I didn't know it would go like this. If I knew, I...” He stopped because he didn't know what to say. Not join the band? No, there had to be a way!

“Sorry”, Chris said and Morrie was surprised to hear him being meek. His anger melted. He fell into a chair and silenced since he had nothing left to say. Nick was gone again, for who knew how long. Morrie didn't notice how the others left the studio. It was only that he looked up and noticed that the room was empty. He grabbed a blank cassette and tossed it around. It cracked. A moment later, he felt sorry about it. In a miserable mood, he went home.

The third day, Nick didn't show himself. Not that Morrie expected him to come back so soon. He was probably visiting his favourite district or whatever, pumping Joy into his system or shagging some pretty birds. The more he thought about it, the more it hurt. What could some bloody superficial groupie give him after all? Something his caring bandmate couldn't? Well, there was one thing. Morrie sighed heavily. If only he could win Nick's trust back.

The fourth and fifth day went by without a trace of Nick. Morrie wasn't surprised. The band became more absent, too. Morrie guessed they went down the same route as their leader and he couldn't even blame them. Their situation was fucked up enough. Morrie however didn't get himself to socialise. Instead he occupied the studio again and wrote songs just for the fun of it. He toyed with the idea of creating a solo album one day, as a little side project just in case...He didn't like being reduced to a mere background act.

One day, Morrie was working on a song when Virgil stormed into the studio, looking very concerned. Morrie feared it was about his solo-act and made wide innocent eyes at the manager. But Virgil didn't seem to notice. “Morrie, you don't plan to replace Nick, right? Or did I miss something?” Morrie winced at that too. “Wh...what gave you that idea?” “Not what, who”, Virgil corrected him. “Nick is in his secret hideout. I guess he's been in there for days, he's not coming out. I tried everything, but he insists that this is about you. You have to sort this out.” “S..secret hideout?” It was the first time Morrie heard about it.

Virgil described him the way and Morrie didn't hesitate to see Nick again. It felt odd to jump into a popper. He had no idea how the Bobbies got used to it. It gave him the most awful sensation of falling into an endless pit. But a gasp later, he stood in a brightly illuminated hallway. The floor looked like a psychedelic river of colours that poured into a glaring red tunnel. Gaping, Morrie went on, walking past giant golden statues of Nick Lightbearer. The statues were spinning – and so was Morrie's head. It was like he fell right into a crazy candy-trip. Where the hell was Nick?

He came upon a pair of doors that was guarded by two white statues of Bobbies. Was that supposed to be intimidating? Morrie eyed them as if they'd set themselves in motion any second. But soon, the moment was over and Morrie opened the doors and slipped inside.

Then he couldn't decide where to look first. The walls were decorated with all sorts of things. Two dancing poles stood at his right, closest to the entrance, implying that Nick had guests here. To his left there was a mixer console like the one he had in the studio. So Nick hid even this from the band. Morrie wondered how often his idol was here while he worried about him.

In the right corner behind the poles there was a counter and three barstools. And there sat Nick, accompanied by multiple empty bottles that were spread all over the counter. The rockstar muttered something to himself, then quietly laughed. He didn't notice the other man until he stood right behind him. Nick's face fell when he saw him. “Oh, you...” He blinked, trying to look him in the eyes. “I didn't invite you down here...” “Nick, please come back to us!”, Morrie begged. His voice was husk. “There's no need for this...” “You miss me, Morrie? Aww, it's not the same without good old Nicky, isn't it?” His grin was more like a grimace. “I don't want you to leave”, Morrie urged him. “This is all wrong...” “Aw, you'll be fine”, Nick slurred, waving him off and accidentally knocking over a bottle on the way. It shattered on the floor. “You're star-material...ask Virgil...” He hiccuped. “He...he and you...” He stopped to pour himself another drink.

Morrie dashed forward and grabbed the bottle. “No, stop! You don't need that, Nick...Give it to me!” Nick hissed and grabbed Morrie's arm, trying to tear it away. “Gimme that back, you piece of shit...” They struggled. Nick tried to shove him away, but he mostly flailed about, hitting Morrie by accident while Morrie had a hard time dodging all his unpredictable blows. “Please, listen to me!”, the young musician pleaded. “I don't want to replace you! I want to save you!” Nick flared up, pointing a finger at him: “Huh! I knew it! I never said anything about that! You know, because that's your plan! See, I'm not so stupid after all!” “Nick, I know it from Virgil! He told me that that's what you think! How can I prove to you that this is not what I want?” “Play by my rules, Morrie!” “But your rules are killing yourself!”, Morrie shouted. “So what?” Nick slammed the counter. “Why do you care? Why can't you leave me alone in my darkest moment? You always have to be everywhere! You mess with all my shit and you leave me nothing! It's all about you know!” Nick glared at the other man.

“On the contrary, it's all about you! I'm trying to save this...” “About me, huh?” Nick shot up and pounded Morrie's chest with his index finger. “Au contraire, Morrie! You steal my stash, you hog my songs, you push me around as you please, how's that about me?” “Please, just come back! We need you! Believe me, you'll see it all differently when you're sober...” Nick leaned against the counter as nonchalantly as he could manage in his state. He attempted to put a hand on his hip but missed. “But I like it here...” Morrie shook his head. “Look at this!” He pointed at the empty bottles. “Look at how you treat yourself! Don't you care about yourself at all?” Nick eyed the bottles with effort. “Yeah, I know it's all hooch, but this is about quantity, not quality...” He chuckled to himself. Then he leaned against the counter, probably searching for a new bottle among the empty ones. “Stop it!” Morrie shouted and cleared the counter with a single wipe of his arm. The glass clanked loudly and broke. Nick almost tripped over the barstool. He clutched the counter and stared at Morrie, mouth half open.

Morrie could've found this entertaining if he wasn't so angry. “Can't you see that I'm not your enemy! I'm worried about you, Nick! I told you already that you're a precious mind, but you're throwing it away like that! What made you do this? I don't understand! What can I do to stop this?” Nick frowned. “What the fuck?”, he tried to yell but he sounded rather meek. “What do you care? Leave me alone!” “Nick, you mean a lot to...” Morrie faltered, then decided otherwise. “You mean a lot to us! You should know this! We and your fans, we all care about you...” “And you're the new president of my fanclub or what?” “No...I'm your friend...” Morrie fell quiet.

Nick silenced as well, eyeing the other man up and down as if he waited for more. Morrie instead slumped on a barstool and rested his head on his hands. He felt Nick's eyes on him. With his strength fading away, he could only hope that Nick would see reason and give up.

“I'd offer you a drink but...I guess you're not into that...”, the rockstar mumbled after a while. Morrie cleared his throat. “Not at the moment, no. But thanks.” “Hmm...” Nick fell quiet again. Morrie began to talk just for the sake of it: “This is a cool secret hideout by the way...uh...really creative...” “Hmm...” Nick stretched himself. “Emphasis on secret...” Morrie felt a pang in his chest. “Would I ever be allowed in here?”, he blurted out. He sounded so longing, he startled himself. “Perhaps”, Nick answered mysteriously. “Why do you ask?” Morrie thought that there was no answer that made sense, so he shrugged. “I don't know, It's really not my business, I'm sorry. I'm only here because Virgil was worried. I didn't mean to intrude...” He slouched his shoulders. Really, what was he doing here? Trying to save Nick, sure, but if he was honest, he didn't do it for completely selfless reasons... There was that longing again. His pathetic feelings he couldn't hold back. Maybe he should really leave Nick alone. Let someone else help him who could really be his friend...

He couldn't finish the thought because he suddenly felt Nick's lips on his cheek. It was a clumsy kiss that smelled of cheap brandy and something unbearably sweet, some drug probably. But it was so careful and gentle. So painful. Morrie turned his head away.

Nick eyed the other man in confusion. “What's wrong?” “Nothing, just...You only do that when you're drunk”, Morrie said gloomily. “And then you forget about it.” Nick furrowed his brows. “What did I forget?” “When you were in my house, you...you became a little cuddly, too.” “I didn't forget that.” Morrie looked at him. Then he shrugged again. “Okay...I didn't mean anything by that...” “Oh, Morrie”, Nick sighed. “No, really, it's fine. You don't have to...uh...it's okay...” “No, it's not. Look at me.” Morrie sighed and obeyed.

There was another kiss. Nick's tongue slid into this mouth, poking his own. The younger man moved it about without any plan on what to do. No one had ever kissed him like that. Nick seemed to enjoy it though. He cupped Morrie's cheek with his hands to pull him closer into the kiss. Morrie noticed that despite him being drunk his tongue was quite vivid. When Nick let go, he had to take a deep breath. Nick gave him a look as if he expected something in return. Morrie's brain tried. “Uh...thanks?” Nick panted and punched his arm. “Thanks? I kiss you and that's what I get, a thanks? You're an idiot, Morrie!” He turned away. “But...I...what do you want me to say? What does this mean, Nick?”

“Do you need an in-depth description of what a kiss means?” “In your case, I do, because you kiss a lot of groupies without meaning anything!” “For fuck's sake, why are you so complicated?” “What's complicated about a simple 'thanks'? It's the opposite of complicated if you think about it.” “Oh, you're a clever bastard, aren't you? So that's all I get from you, a 'thanks'? Great! This day is getting better and better!” Now Nick sounded really bitter. “If you mean something, why don't you tell me so I can understand?” “Pff, words are hollow” “I want to hear it!”, Morrie begged. “Help me, Nick, before I freak out!” His idol looked at him again. “Alright, I thought you would like it because whenever I'm not wasted I feel like we have a special connection. But I'm sorry if I got it wrong. You're hard to read.” Suddenly, Morrie had butterflies in his stomach that all fluttered up at once. “No...no...you're not wrong...”, he stuttered.

Nick's eyes seemed to get darker. His hand walked a little trail up his arm with two fingers. The tickle they caused ran through Morrie's entire body. “So...would you mind getting a bit more comfortable?” Nick's voice was deeper than before. Morrie's neck hair stood on end. He tried to answer but his mouth stood open and no words came out. He was paralysed and could only stare at Nick with whatever pathetic expression he showed.

Nick lay his hand on Morrie's stomach and slowly moved it up to his chest. He made Morrie gasp and shiver. These hands on him! How was he supposed to survive this? He was already about to faint. His chest rose and fell under Nick's tender fingers. When they reached his neck, Nick pulled him closer for another kiss and this time, Morrie leaned into it. He offered his tongue to him and rubbed it against his, begging for more. He put his hands on Nick's shoulders to steady himself and the shiny fabric rustled quietly. Morrie didn't dare to go further, he clung to Nick and lost himself in all sorts of sensations. Nick was everywhere, rummaging his upper body, tugging at his clothes and his hair. Morrie could feel his desire in every touch. He moaned into the kiss.

The next moment, Nick slid onto his lap and wrapped his legs around him. Morrie's back was pressed against the counter and he felt Nick's erection on his tight. Nick started to rub it against his legs, brushing his own sweet spot from time to time. Morrie was overwhelmed. He grabbed Nick's lower back to steady him. The rockstar let out a moan and straightened his back, pressing himself against Morrie's hand. Morrie kept the hand where it was, helping Nick's thrusts this way. Also, he had wanted to grab that tight little backside ever since he had seen Nick in a show. All the times he had to watch him from behind on stage... Nick's thrusts became more forceful. Morrie heard the sound of clinking metal and looked down to see Nick opening his belt with one hand. Then he grabbed Morrie's belt. Tensing up, the younger man curled his fingers into Nick's jacket, waiting for the inevitable.

His tension broke free when he felt Nick's hand on his length, massaging it in a fast pace. He moaned and gasped, his hands flailing, searching for a grip and missing. He was coming closer, he was sure it would happen soon... Then Nick suddenly let go. Morrie let out a whimper he had never heard from himself before. He was tempted to touch himself. “Ssh...”, Nick whispered gently and kissed him again. Morrie pressed into the kiss, helplessly thrusting against Nick. He could hear his idol chuckle. That cruel man! If he wasn't the golden god in person, Morrie would've flung him over the counter to give him a very painful spanking! At the thought, he touched Nick's lower back again but immediately tore his hand away as if he had burned himself. He had touched naked skin! His shivering hand brushed over a naked tight. Then he grabbed it.

Nick's fingers came back, fondling the spot between his legs. Morrie made an unintelligible sound and leaned back, resting his elbows against the counter to pull himself up. Nick knelt over him, his delicate length in hands, and looked down on him like a predator at his prey. Then he lowered himself down on Morrie's lap. Morrie sucked in the air when he felt something warm and tight closing up around him. His senses exploded, his body became electric with multiple little bolts dancing under his skin. He was oblivious to what exactly happened next. He remembered their loud moans echoing though the room, Nick tightening and letting go, finding a rhythm that pushed Morrie further and further into euphoria.

Morrie was the first to come, erupting into Nick with multiple begging thrusts. The strength left him with every move and his body relaxed. Nick still didn't let go, trying to stimulate Morrie further. Then he helped himself with his own hand while pressing his face into Morrie's hair. A few strokes later, he came under Morrie's shirt. The younger man felt it all over himself but he didn't mind. Then Nick collapsed, wrapping his arms around Morrie and resting his head in the crook of his neck.

Morrie rubbed his chin against Nick's soft hair, enjoying the tickle it gave him. Nick stirred and returned the affection with little pecks on his cheek, his chin, his ear...every spot of his face he could reach. He gnawed at Morrie's jawline, making the younger man snicker happily. He searched for Nick's lips and found them as his hands played with the fluffy tie. They kissed and cuddled. Then Nick relaxed and Morrie fondled his back up and down.

Nick was the first to slowly get up, carefully putting his feet on the ground. He offered Morrie his hand to help him and then wrapped an arm around his shoulder to walk him away from the counter. Morrie now noticed that there was a sitting area across from the bar, between a wall and a column. It looked quite comfortable. Lying down with Nick's help, was thankful for how soft it was since his back hurt. The rockstar followed soon after and Morrie pulled him closer. He'd make sure Nick wouldn't fall off his narrow bed and hurt himself. He'd make sure Nick would never hurt himself again.

#we happy few #wehappyfew #nick lightbearer #morrie memento #nickxmorrie #whf #whf nick #whfnick #nicklightbearer #morriememento #the make believes #you always meet twice

[creppersfunpalooza]

☄️ Comet - Who is your most self destructive character? Why are they like that?

🌑 New moon - Who is your most mysterious character? Are they different from what people assume?

☄️ : I had to think about this actually. My initial thought was Koi. I mean, just look at him. He keeps digging himself a deeper hole by indulging in unhealthy habits and has no respect for himself anymore. Yeah, it gets better over time, but he’s a little pathetic at first.

and then I realized that it’s not Koi. It’s never been Koi.

ITS THIS GUY RIGHT HERE!!

quick cw shoehorned in here: quick and brief mentions of addiction, implications of domestic abuse, self destructive tendencies, and that should be it but just be careful going into it yeah OH WAIT SHIT I FORGOT THE BODY HORROR

yes, i know he looks similar to TBR, yes, that is intentional (they’re brothers). This right here is Whitey. Both Whitey and TBR were highly intelligent, with Whitey’s intellect and magical brilliance being apparent from a very young age. He, however, is also a very insecure person. He could even be considered a pushover. He wants to blend in to a crowd. He has aspirations but unlike TBR, he sees them as unrealistic and settles for second best. He becomes a lawyer because he thinks it would keep his mind working, but falls into a spiral of uncertainty and incompleteness. This leads him down a path of unhealthy habits and coping mechanisms (gambling addiction and drinking problems), until it eventually fucks him over so bad that he gets himself into a situation he can’t get out of. Like big time. It’s a little hard to explain since I’m still making rewrites, but he gets into a pretty terrible relationship and gets trapped in it (i promise this isn’t as common of a theme as it seems to be in my stories between him and rosé loll). He loses his will entirely and is slowly driven further to the brink of what he can handle. It gets to a point where he’s trying to think of any possible way to make do with the lifestyle he’s been forced into, going as far as to consider something pretty damn close to lobotomizing himself. And in the end? What does it all come to? He’s killed by one of the few people he felt like he could still trust. At his tipping point where he’s about ready to give up, when his option is to either fight or die, he makes his choice.

and yeah uhm the god of death isn’t too happy about that and pretty much just keeps him in purgatory because she felt a bit petty (she made a bet on his life). it’s a lot to explain and i can do a deeper explanation on it but not right now because i’m not feeling too motivated to talk abt him. still thinking a lot abt some of my other guys.

🌑: Most mysterious? hmmmmmm. It’d either go to Bliss or one of the creations of death. Bliss is from another time and plane. She’s very arrogant and thinks of her (and her vessel) as more important than the people around her due to her once royal status. She is very uncooperative and apathetic towards anyone other than Kate. She has a bit of a god complex herself. While people don’t exactly misjudge her, they don’t realize the full extent of her. She’s seen the world change and warp for at least a century, she’s learned it’s dirty and flawed. Nobody here is perfect, and that’s not what she’s used to. It’s not her standard.

The creations of death (unofficially titled as martha, that one fucking tree, the significantly cooler tree that’s not really a tree and probably won’t be a tree in the revamp, and the only one who can fucking move) have been in the wonderrealm since close to its beginning. They are it’s original inhabitants. Martha is a hivemind, expanding off of collecting the souls of the lost. It grants them with a home and community. They still have their free will and thoughts inside of the mind, but work as a singular entity outside. They’re unified by Martha. Martha also provides those in close proximity to it with wealth and joy, creating a lure for newcomers. Martha itself cannot think the same way the people who are part of it think. Martha is abstract and conceptual. It cannot be comprehended. “Martha” is just a nickname given from the people inside of the mind, but Martha seems to like it. That One Fucking Tree is a much more malicious entity. It feeds off of the cruelty of others in exchange for youth and beauty. Like Martha, it wishes to grow influence. It requires patrons. The patron, fueled by vanity, will deliver it regular sacrifices in order to keep their youth. The sacrifices in question will be fused into its biomass, oftentimes unwillingly, but subdued by its presence. i hate this tree. i hate it a lot. i might scrap it because i do not like this tree. but it is technically important to the world building. also it sounds very similar to a character i cannot and will not discuss here from a separate thing (theorists do not see this this is not for your eyes). Then you have the cooler tree. This tree which is likely not going to be a tree is a little entity who lives in the catacombs of the old diamond palace. it’s a living creature that provides safety and sanctuary to those who read to it. that’s it. it’s very harmless and just wants more knowledge. maybe the tree wants to take over the world, but for now it is but a sapling. Finally, we have the only one with legs. Lady Luck. She has a significantly different form, with it being more mobile and humanoid, but still distinctly different than a normal person. She’s revered as a goddess by many in the Wonderrealm. She could never be in the same place for very long, but it’s said that any who gave her a golden coin or a marble or something shiny would be gifted eternal luck. While it’s not apparent whether or not these stories were true, her existence is undeniable… Or was. Nobody’s seen her for years. again i’ll probably get around to doing a deep dive on more of these characters but for now i’m feeding you bits and pieces.

so dig in :3

#oc #ocs #oc rp #roleplay #ask #character ask game #character asks #character ask #ask game #crep rambling about their characters again #crep’s ocs #ask blog #ask box

[grande-bay-resort-spa]

5 reasons why you should take a mini break on the ECR

ECR-The sound of it wakes you up from a slumber and rekindles fond memories of unforgettable family vacations. For some, it stands for Easy, Comfortable, Relaxation.For others, it is a holiday within city limits. The idyllic beach setting sets the tide in favour of ECR being the most popular destination for an impromptu weekend getaway. If you’re wondering how to plan a trip with toddlers, friends, family and everything in between, you can’t find a better place than ECR, Good things come in small packages and sodo vacations! Read on to find out why you should bundle your family into a car and head to ECR on the next long weekend.

Drive to thrive

For all those motor enthusiasts who think they have to wait past midnight to quench their need for speed, think again. A scenic drive awaits you during the daytime along the ECR. The entire ECR stretch is paved with smooth, wide roads that make driving a joy. What’s more, these long drives while listening to your favourite tracks can increase your happy hormone, serotonin. This way, you can bust your stress before you even get to the resort! Sojust load up on petrol and get on with your patrol.

Spayurvedaand deep tissue massages

Your body’s been sending out franticsigns that it’s time for a weekend getaway. Your dark circles are increasing while your grey matter is doing the exact opposite. Before someone cries out “What’s the matter?”– book a spa session at your favourite resort in ECR.A relaxing day at the spa could be just what the doctor ordered to put right back what the city and late nights have mercilessly extorted from you. Our spa at Grande Bay offers oil massages from around the world such as Bali Aromatherapy and Swedish massage.

An oil massage usually requires 3-4 hours for the oil to seep through all your layers of skin to make it baby soft again.During weeknights, you cannot fully enjoy these nuanced benefits as youare pressed for time. But with a mini-break at a resort on the ECR,you have all the time in the world to slip into a cozy slumber as your muscles are stretched and loosened up.

Activities for the whole family

ECR offers a range of smart holiday options which cater to a whole variety of interests.From family reunions to planning for amazing girls’ weekends, ECR is the perfect destination. You can just loll by the beach and take in the morning sun or break into a jog to burn off the previous night’s seafood binge. You can even hire a bicycle to pedal your way to the nearby areas and check out their way of life. Sip tea in a shack just like the locals and soak in the memories as you cradle the piping tea served in earthen cups. During the evenings after you wake upfrom an invigorating afternoon snooze, you can take a walk along the sea as you watch the sun retire for the day. You can even collect seashells as keepsakes or wade into the cold water. There are so many fun activities to enjoy at Grande Bay Resort; we guarantee you will never have a dull moment! Some of the best holidays are the ones where you did not exert yourself, but came back feeling like a new person.

Save on travel time and excess packing

ECR being along the city’s eastern fringe is a blessing for everyone looking to take a quick mini-break! You are saved from the hassle of dealing with long travel times and flight bookings. You needn’t worry about taking yourmothballed woolens out of storage or forgetting your extra pair of socks. Since your mini-break is within the resort,all you need are a few smart casuals and maybe a pair of formals just in case the situation presents itself.

Binge on seafood

The assortment of cuisines on offer at resorts and getaways in ECR are enough to make you come back well-fed and satiated. At ECR, you can find the most delectable seafood in the whole city, with fresh catch brought straight from the ocean to your table. If your favourite kinds of food live underwater, then ECR is the best place to indulge your foodie dreams. If you’re staying at Grande Bay Resort, don’t forget to book a table at our highly-acclaimed restaurant, L’Attitude 49. Ask us for our Catch of the Day so we can cook it to order!

At ECR, you can finally take your much-awaited beach holiday. A luxurious resort set in the midst of breathtaking oceanic surroundings can melt anyone’s stress away. If you’re planning a weekend trip to ECR, book your stay at Grande Bay Resort and Spa. Our little slice of heaven is sure to delight every member of your family.

#grandebay #chennai #beachresort