#trying to be anonymous and creepy but having completely different ideas of how to go about it

[heroesriseandfall]

I love Steph’s aesthetic of having massive eyes versus Cass’s aesthetic of having essentially no eyes at all

Batgirl Vol. 1 #32

#trying to be anonymous and creepy but having completely different ideas of how to go about it #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #batfam #batgirl #batgirl ii #the spoiler #batgirl (2000) #alt described #heroesriseandfall #stephcass

[viviennes-tears]

Don't be nervous, darling (Tom Hiddleston and X reader one shot)

18+ blog: It is YOUR responsibility, as a reader, to think about the content that you consume at your own discretion. 

~

A/N: Request for two granted! Thank you Anonymous for both scenarios and I hope neither disappoint anyone x

Prompt requested by Anonymous on Tumblr: I had two ideas if that's okay:

lady interviewer is nervous talking to Tom, so before the filming crew comes Tom goes down on her to help her relax.

Chris Evans has never seen Tom naked before and sneeks up on him in the shower.

Summary: You're a journalist and you've been given a great opportunity, one that could kickstart your career. An interview with Tom Hiddleston. You've been a big fan of his work for a long time, but you're a nervous wreck about meeting him. When he comes to meet you before the interview it becomes an unexpected but welcomed pleasurably relief.

Warnings: Nervous reader, vaginal fingering and oral sex female receiving

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

This was it, your big moment after all your hard work had paid off.

You've been working as a journalist for the past three years and so far you've only been given small projects to write about. Most have been projects on how to's and how not's as well as the dreaded drivel about dating and dietary tips. Whilst doing so you figured it was a stepping stone and if you write them to the best of your ability, despite your disinterest, then it would lead to better things for you. Which is exactly what's happened. You have recently been given the opportunity you've been hoping for. Only problem though is that you are currently a nervous wreck right now.

You've been a huge fan of the man you're interviewing today for years and now you are waiting to meet him before the cameras start rolling. Hell, you even changed your outfit at least twenty times before leaving the house and ranted to your best friend about meeting him on the phone for hours the night before. They were excited for you and had known about this interview for weeks just as you had, however you just needed one last rant with them, not that it would stop the nervousness you're currently feeling right now.

After waiting for the past ten minutes the door opened with a soft click and then Tom Hiddleston the man himself walked into the room. As soon as he saw you he gave you that famous smile that has caused so many people to swoon over. You smiled back although you feared it was a creepy smile, but in reality it was far from creepy, luckily. Although you felt butterflies in your stomach and they seemingly increased the closer Tom got to you.

"Hello, you must be Y/N?" Tom says politely, as he holds out his hand to you and that smile of his didn't seem like it wasn't going to disappear any time soon.

'You can do this.' You thought to yourself before you accepted his handshake, shaking his hand firmly, as if you had all the confidence as you had the day you had been interviewed for this job in the first place. "Yes, that's me. I'm Y/N." You said, whilst trying to ensure no strange noises came out of your mouth and made sure not to hold his hand for too long like some weirdo.

"I hear this is your first interview." He says, almost sounding more enthusiastic than you, despite that being far from the truth, just your nervousness was nearly completely out-weighing that.

All you could do was nod your head in agreement, causing his gaze to narrow as if he's assessing your character, with his eyebrows furrowed deep in thought. 'Oh great, he must think I hate my job.' All your mind could come up with, along with the possibility that he doesn't like you, which seemed very far-fetched due to the fact that it sounded rare for the man to dislike anybody. The longer this silence went on though the more uncomfortable you became, really it may not have been long, but to you it felt like it had been at least twenty minutes. Although the look on his face now seemed to have a different effect on you, causing the once fluttering butterflies in your stomach to be replaced by twisted knots, your heart quickening. The combination of those feelings with your wrecked nerves wasn't what you needed right now.

"Maybe you should sit down?" Tom suggests suddenly breaking the silence and thoughts ongoing in your mind. You decided not to say anything and take his advice. Taking a seat in the chair you'd be sitting in for the interview. "Are you alright?" He asks sweeter than his expression not long ago, as he crotches down to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Ye-yeah, sorry...just as you said it's my first interview today and I don't want to mess it up." You murmured, your knee slightly bouncing nervously.

Tom gently puts his other hand on your knee, your knee ceased to bounce then, his gaze fixated on your eyes. "Don't be nervous, darling." He says, his voice changed again, this time it was a low timber.

You remained quiet, unsure what was going to happen, or what caused his demeanour to change so much within a short time span. You watched him carefully. He removed his hand from your shoulder, placing it on your other knee, his eye contact on yours still. He pulled your tight pencil skirt above your knees, before his hands slowly and purposely glided up your thighs, the tight fabric of your pencil skirt riding up with his fingers, his palms softly brushing against your skin. A slight tremble ran through your legs which was out of your control, his unexpected touch was a welcomed surprise, dream like even.

"Let me help you." He whispered, as his fingers reached the tops of your thighs.

Again you did not speak, yet you didn't stop him either, why would you? You'd surely wake up and realise it was another one of your dreams, another fantasy, that really your day hadn't really begun yet and you're still at home tucked up in bed.

Tom slowly parted your thighs, widened your legs before grabbing you by your ankles, giving you one gentle tug to scoot you further towards him on his knees. His fingers then softly caressed their way up your thighs again, whilst his head lowered between your legs, his hair tickled as it brushed against you. A tender kiss pressed to each of your inner thighs soon followed, causing a gasp to escape from your lips, although you still couldn't stop him. When you felt him pushing your knickers to one side as he peered up at you from between your legs, as if he was checking you weren't going to stop this, however he didn't see any hint of protest or discomfort from you. That was enough for him to focus his attention back on your awaiting cunt.

Firstly he brushed his thumb over your clit, a small jolt from you made him stop, then he looked up to you again. You gave him an apologetic smile from your reaction to his ministrations, igniting a soft low chuckle from within his chest, a playful smirk graced his lips too before his face disappeared once more between your legs. He then brushed his thumb over your clit again, only this time a little firmer, before he started a rhythmic motion over your clit with his thumb repeatedly. Beads of your arousal soon began to form, that's when Tom changed tactics slightly, inserting two of his slender fingers into the mix. He of course perfectly timed the motion of his fingers with his thumb, causing your lips to part slightly as your breath quickened, your heart fluttering too.

All sense of time no longer mattered. Tom was on his knees fingering you while simultaneously stroking your clit. What was time anyway? If not to be spent living it to its fullest.

Before you could cum Tom removed his fingers slowly and ceased touching your clit. You just sat there for a moment trying to calm yourself down, not that it was easy to do, especially as Tom began tenderly kissing your inner thighs again. Albeit it wasn't long for his kisses to get closer and closer to your sodden pussy. As soon as you felt his warm breath fan out against your lower lips another shudder ran down your spin and your legs shook. When his lips first touched your heated sodden core it felt like a soft brush, followed by a firm stripe of his saliva spreading across your folds from the fall span of his tongue, a soft moan from you couldn't be held back. Your moan made him smirk against you before he repeated the action. After a couple more repeats you felt the tip of his tongue prodding against your folds, before you felt him push it further past them, then slowly pulling back to just the tip. His fingers splayed out over your hips and thighs, a firmness in his grasp on you, whilst he continued to slowly push his tongue in and out of you.

The tease of his tongue was agony, but in a good way. Within a few moments you felt Tom's nose pressing into you, as he pushed his tongue inside further, followed by slurping sounds as he vigorously got into it. You gasped at first before it turned into a soft moan that was on constant repeat. Your head lulled back against the chair, eyes closing as you soaked in every second, while one hand reached down to him and your fingers became tangled in his fluffy hair. Without thinking you began massaging his scalp, causing a low moan to come rumbling out of his throat, sending vibrations up your body. After that you didn't last much longer. Your climax rushed out of you, coating his awaiting tongue, and your grip tightened in his hair as you tried to hold back a cry of pleasure biting your tongue in the process.

Tom didn't stop until he tasted every last drop. It was almost like he was a man who'd been walking through a desert and finally found a water source that wasn't a heated illusion from the hot sun. When he had finished tasting everything you had to offer he sat leaning up and over you, his gaze on yours, smug glistening grin on his face.

Suddenly you both heard voices just outside. It was a quick rush of readjustments, you covering yourself back up and sitting up in your chair, whilst Tom quickly brushed his hair back into place and just about managed to wipe his mouth clean before the rest of the crew came into the room. Tom cleared his throat as they walked in chatting amongst themselves.

"Is everything alright, Y/N? You look flushed." One of them asked you with concern when they saw you sitting there.

"Ye-yeah...yes, fine thanks." You replied, trying to sound more calm and collected than you actually felt, and you saw Tom sitting there opposite you, winking at you with a wicked grin on his lips.

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

Tages list

@muwuzic @jennyggggrrr

If you'd like to join the tags list go here

Tom Hiddleston Masterlist

Source: @viviennes-tears

#don't be nervous darling #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston/reader #prompt request #one shot #interview #viviennes-tears

[layanasstories]

Oblivion

THREE

Andy looks my way worried "Are you okay? It looks like you just saw a ghost". His words make me alert again. "Yeah, I'm okay. It's just -" I swallow the rest because I don't want to speak my thought out loud. To give some kind of explanation and to reassure him I continue "I just think it's weird, that's my brother! I'm getting really tired of his stupid jokes.". Andy raises his eyebrows in disbelief "Your brother?" then he sighs "Maybe it's time for a hearty word with that brother of yours.". I nod that I agree with him. "Yeah, I definitely will. Sorry Andy for this waste of time.". He shakes his head of no "No need, I have siblings too and know how annoying they can be.".

When I take one last look at the screen, I see something I've missed before. It was not one piece of paper, but two. The second fell to the floor when I took the first off my keyboard, I had overlooked that. I don't say anything to Andy, but I do make a mental note of it. I thank Andy for his time and make sure he knows that I will keep my promise to bring him those cookies tomorrow.

When I get back to my desk, the first thing I do is search the floor for the second piece of paper. I find it under my desk, almost all the way back. I pick it up and open this also:

Add this number to your contacts: 01040

I don't really know what to do at the moment, so I put the paper in my pocket. I need to think this through carefully before doing anything at all. Now it's time to work, I see three people waiting in line, and I gesture to the first that it's their turn. The rest of the day passes slowly, I have helped a number of visitors with their requests or complaints. I spent my break alone on the square in front of the building. And when it's five o'clock, I clock out and go home. My thoughts have been with the stranger for the rest of the day. And now that I'm on the subway I can think quietly without being distracted. Why is he in my nightmares, what does he want from me. And most importantly, how does he know I'm on medication. Though I know intellectually it should scare me, but it doesn't. I certainly think it's strange, but afraid no.

I try to get the thoughts out of my mind as best I can when I step into my house. I want to be able to do my routine, so I greet both my cats by giving them a pat on the head and back. Then I take off my work clothes and put on my house clothes. I take the note with the phone number from my pocket and place it on the coffee table. Then I take my evening meal out of the fridge and heat it up in the microwave. I like to cook, but not the daily meal. When the microwave beeps that it's ready, I take out my food. Then I sit on the couch with my dinner and eat it. But this time it's just different. Instead of turning on the TV, I grab the note. 0-1-0-4-0, 0-1-0-4-0 ... that's how I repeat the number in my head. With every bite I take, I doubt whether I should add the number or not. But my curiosity wins. I open my contacts and click on the plus sign to add a contact. I have no idea what name to use, so I come up with the idea to use Anonymous. Because that's what it is, for me. The moment I click on save I see that the name I entered had changed to Nym-0s and a profile picture of a red eye was added. I wasn't afraid, and I still am not, but my heart is racing in my throat. That eye, I had completely forgotten that, that eye always appears in my nightmares too, never prominent right in my view. But I saw it on walls or on a newspaper. Always subtle, but definitely there. Before I get completely confused, I get a message.

Nym-0s: If you're curious about your past, we can meet.

Layana: Why the hell should I meet you? Any idea how creepy you seem?

Nym-0s: Yes, I get that.

Layana: You get that? But you don't care?

Nym-0s: Pretty much, indeed.

Layana: How can I trust you?

Nym-0s: Because you've always trusted me.

Layana: That doesn't say anything about whether I can trust you now.

Nym-0s: All right, you want proof. Fine. Follow my advice, stop taking the medication for 3 days. If your memory hasn't cleared up a little by then, this was our last conversation. And if so, you can send me a message and we'll talk. Is that a deal?

I think for a moment. Three days is not long, it is enough to slow down the effect enough. But short enough to start again if necessary.

Layana: Okay, deal. But if it worsens my health, I'll just take them again. And then I know I can't trust you.

Nym-0s: That's understandable, although I can guarantee that you will only feel better.

Layana: We'll see.

I'm calling myself crazy, how can I agree to this. I can kick myself, but I'm also very curious about my past. I have zero memories and the desire to get them back is very strong. That's why I'm doing what this stranger advises me to do, and I'm leaving the pills out tonight.

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x player #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood game #iamjake #duskwood fanfiction

[heyitssmiller]

Bewitched, Body and Soul

So... this happened. Blame the Discord. Basically, the premise is receiving a note from a stranger about having similar tastes in books, and my first thought was Finn/Leo. And now, around 24 hours later, this showed up in my word document. Hope y’all like it!! And don’t worry, I’ve already got a sequel planned with Logan ;)

All characters, of course, belong to the wonderful @lumosinlove

And, if you’re so inclined, check out my Masterlist if you enjoy this story! <3

CW: food/drink

.

Leo loved this bookstore. There was a west-facing windowfront that allowed all sorts of afternoon light to shine through, creating a large, warm sunspot right in Leo’s favorite armchair. The shelves were always neatly organized by category, there was a featured book of the week, and there was a coffee shop sequestered to one corner of the building. What else did he need in life? He’d spent countless hours here, sitting with a new book and a cup of coffee or tea and getting lost in whatever world he’d been transported to within the crisp pages and black ink. Being new to the city, there were probably better ways to make friends, but there was something so soothing, so comfortingly familiar about shutting off the worry in his mind and just focusing on the story unfolding in his hands.

But when his stomach growled loudly in protest, he figured he needed to put reading on hold.

There was a wrinkled, jagged-edged scrap of paper sitting on top of Leo’s book when he returned to his table, café pastry in hand. It hadn’t been there a second ago. Curiously, Leo set his food down and inspected the foreign paper. Messy, inelegant scrawl slanted across the page in deep blue ink. The lines were uneven and chaotic; the i’s weren’t even dotted, almost as if it took too much effort to go back and add them in. Leo found it strangely endearing. It read:

           Hi!

           I don’t think we’ve met, but based on your choice of literature I think we would make great friends. :)

-        Carrot Top

Leo smiled, read it again, and looked around for the person who sent it but no one acknowledged him, seemingly lost in stories of their own. So he sat there, a smile still on his face as he got back to his book, using the note as a bookmark.

~~~

Finn couldn’t help himself when, a few days later, he left another note after seeing the guy with good taste in books again at the bookstore. He was at what must have been his usual table, seemingly right where Finn had left him. The only difference besides the clothes he was wearing was the book he was reading. Finn let himself linger on his profile, just for a second – the gentle slope of his nose, the way his curls rested against his forehead, how bright blue eyes scanned the pages below him.

Finn wasn’t one for love at first sight; that was for romance novels only. But instant attraction? Oh yeah. He was definitely there.

He picked up a small flyer from the front desk, flipped it over, and began to write.

And maybe it wasn’t a good way of, as the kids said these days, “shooting his shot”. But it was a start. And it was fun – the thrill of trying not to get caught, the anonymity. Sure, one day he’d maybe get up the courage to talk to him in person, but he was happy with this for now.

           Hmm… haven’t read that one. Might have to get myself a copy!

-        The Walking Freckle

After dropping the note off while the blond walked off to take a phone call, Finn tried to act casual as he stared sightlessly down at his own book instead of over at the cute stranger like he desperately wanted to.

Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious…

If he was being completely honest, he didn’t really know where to go from here. Did the blond think the notes were creepy? Or weird? He never seemed to mind much, but… well, a stranger was repeatedly leaving notes for him. What if it was making him uncomfortable? Would it make things better or worse if Finn introduced himself?

A snort came out, unbidden. Yeah. Right. That would go well. Finn could practically see it now: he would be clumsy and awkward, probably spilling coffee all over the guy’s book or – even worse – all over him. He’d scare him off for sure.

But at the same time, Finn wanted nothing more than to meet him. To sit down across the table from him and debate the points of the book he was reading, or give book recommendations, or just talk. About literally anything. Finn wasn’t a picky guy. He could sit there and let him speak for hours, absorbing any and all knowledge about him like a sponge. Did the corners of those bright, blue eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiled? Did his cheeks get all flushed when he was passionate about something, just like Finn’s? What was the story behind the soft-looking tuft of gray hair at his temple?

Who was he?

Finn was overflowing with questions, and desperate for the answers.

But he needed to go about this the right way, didn’t he? The last thing he wanted to do was screw this up. So he closed his book, propped his chin in his hand so that he could stare out the window, and started to plan.

~~~

The next note threw Leo for a bit of a loop. He’d saved his table with his coat thrown over one of the chairs and went up to the New Books section, surreptitiously keeping an eye on his table and hoping that he’d catch his note-sender red-handed.

Leo could’ve sworn that he’d looked away for half a second, but – well, he got distracted by a book, so it easily could’ve been five minutes for all he knew. This note was written on one of the café napkins, the ink bleeding through in some spots and a few small tears in the delicate material.

Nice choice! That book absolutely shattered my heart and then pieced it back together. The way she writes love lost just hurts so beautifully, doesn’t it?

I like your sweater by the way.

Fuck I hope that’s not creepy.

I’m not a stalker, I promise. I just think you’re really cute. And you have amazing taste in books. I’d like to learn more, if you’d let me. :)

But first, you have to figure out who I am! Good luck!

-        Your Not-So-Secret Admirer in the Tortoiseshell Glasses

He smiled, wide and happy, and looked around for tortoiseshell glasses, red hair, and freckles. Those were the only three clues he had so far. So he quickly scanned the crowded café, looking for anyone who fit the description. The only one even close was a freckled, redheaded guy at the corner table, but no glasses.

That was a shame, too. He was stunning.

The mystery bibliophile must already be gone, then. Or hiding.

Looked like Leo had his work cut out for him. He did always like a challenge.

~~~

It probably wasn’t Finn’s best idea to take his glasses off. He couldn’t see a damn thing and was left squinting down at his book, trying to determine if what he was seeing was an F or a P.

That smile, though… he could’ve seen that dimpled smile from all the way across the street.

He never thought he’d be pining for a stranger like this, but then again – he wasn’t a complete stranger, was he? After all, you could learn a lot about a person by their book preferences. Finn wasn’t normally known for being a good judge of character – he was too optimistic, too unwilling to see the bad in people. But damn, did he hope he was right about this one.

~~~

Finn had probably been too bold with the note he’d just dropped off, but when he’d seen what book that his new maybe-friend was reading, he knew he couldn’t just pass up an opportunity like that.

He didn’t wait to see the reaction this time – he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He just left the short note on top of the book while the blond was at the café counter and booked it (pun definitely intended) out of there as fast as he could.

           You have bewitched me, body and soul. <3

-        Bambi

~~~

He should’ve waited. Leo’s reaction, all bashful smile and bright red face and pleased expression, would’ve been worth it.

~~~

Leo went back to the bookstore pretty much every day after that, intent on finding this person. Not only was this a fun little game they were playing, but it would be nice to finally have a friend in the city. He still didn’t know anyone besides his coworkers and… well, he was a little lonely. A friend would be nice, especially one who had a shared interest in books.

The only thing left to do was to find them.

Red hair, freckles, glasses, and big doe eyes.

Leo looked for the only four defining traits he had, methodically starting in the front of the store and weaving through isle after isle of bookshelves. When that proved unsuccessful he moved on to the café, gaze landing on the queue first before lurching to a stop at the glimpse of a shock of auburn hair in the far corner booth. Heart hammering in his chest, Leo used his height to his full advantage and peered over the line of people.

Freckles, Glasses, Big, doe eyes.

If he needed any more confirmation, the stranger – the very cute stranger – was reading the same book Leo had been reading a week ago. The one his anonymous friend said they hadn’t read yet.

It had to be him.

Leo didn’t let himself think about it too much – he knew he’d panic if he did. He just strode over and sat down across from him, setting his book down on the table with a quiet thud. The note-writer jumped a little, then lifted wide brown eyes to look up at him.

Oh, but he was gorgeous.

“So what part are you at?” Leo asked, eyes taking in everything they could now that he was close enough – that messy red hair that just barely curled at the ends, the hint of scruff on his jaw, brown eyes shifting from shade to shade in the afternoon light filtering through the window beside him. Soft, mesmerizing lips curved into the beginnings of a smile that Leo couldn’t help but be transfixed by. “Have you gotten to the part where Patroclus dies?”

Finn stared back, trying to look horrified but he knew he was smiling so much that they counteracted each other because, finally, he’d figured it out. “I can’t believe you’d break rule number one of having a reading buddy: don’t spoil the ending.”

Dimples.

“Oops.”

Finn was done for.

“I’m Finn,” he managed to stammer, aiming for his best smile and probably looking like he’d just tasted something awful instead.

“Leo,” his companion said with a warm smile. Then he frowned. “Wait, no. Go back. You can’t spoil the ending of a story that’s literally thousands of years old.” The blond leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee and watching in amusement as Finn gaped at him in horror. He could feel his cheeks and ears getting red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“That’s so not the point!”

Leo laughed, then motioned for Finn to state his case. And then Finn was off, forgetting all about his nervousness and tendency to be awkward. He ranted about that topic for… well, he didn’t really know how long, but it was a while. Leo didn’t even bat an eye, keeping pace well and interjecting with his own points calmly and collectedly – the gentle breeze to Finn’s tornado. He was smiling, too, even though sometimes he tried to hide it behind the rim of his coffee cup. And he was smart, Finn learned as they jumped from one topic to the next and the minutes ticked by. He knew a lot about literature, like Finn, but he could also make these random connections to all kinds of different topics that Finn would’ve never thought of, all while keeping up with Finn’s fast-paced brain and tendency to jump down rabbit holes.

It was an instant connection, the likes of which Finn had never experienced before. It was intoxicating. Finn felt like he could never get enough.

During a lull in between one conversation and the next, Leo pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over, looking suddenly and inexplicably shy. Finn cocked his head confusedly, then unfolded the paper and looked down.

           Would you like to go on a date sometime?

PS: I’m free tonight if you are. :)

-        The Guy Who’s Been Crushing on You for Weeks

Finn’s heart threatened to burst. “Absolutely.” He hesitated, just for a second, then decided to go for it. “Are you free now? I know a pretty great café nearby.” With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he jerked his thumb at the bookstore café and earned a laugh. He wondered what he could do to earn another.

“Sounds perfect.”

They walked over to the counter together, the backs of their hands just barely brushing – it was still enough to make Finn hyperaware of every miniscule movement and get his pulse hammering. Leo was teasing Finn for his terrible eyesight in a soft, southern drawl – something Finn definitely wasn’t expecting but sure as hell wasn’t complaining about, his fingers deliberately playing with Finn’s now, and Finn knew it was going to be a good night. It was already a good night; how could it possibly get any better?

“What can I get for you?”

Leo and Finn looked up at the barista and their eyes widened in tandem as they took in thick chestnut waves, long, dark lashes, and bottle-green eyes. He wasn’t smiling, not necessarily. His expression was fairly neutral, all things considered – except for those eyes. If you stared at then long enough, you could see just the faintest whisper of amusement.

They both looked down slightly, searching for a nametag. There, in bold black letters, read:

Logan.

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #leo knut #bookstore/coffee shop au #bewitched body and soul #cw: food #cw: drink

[rosalesbeausderholle]

People have literally never gone this hard when male authors or actors have committed literal crimes lol. Like JKR is not great, regardless of her opinions on gender*, she's still been racist in the past and the like. But still, people here love Stephen King who keeps putting creepy pedo scenes into his books and eat up Neil Gaiman's casual homophobia like he's the biggest ally that ever was. They were capping for Johnny Depp and Ezra Miller when they literally abused/physically assaulted people. They literally only treat an author as irredeemable if she's a woman. In all other cases it's "separate the art from the artist". Also, these are the same people who then defend complete freedom of speech in their own "art" even when their own "art" is rape fanfiction (it's really interesting how fandom reacts to what's okay in media like fic where the author is anonymous and the book cancelling (as in the book gets literally pulled from shelves, not as in "cancel culture") soul destroying crusades they go on when there's one book published that had one (1) problematic line on it!)

It's still a beloved children's franchise regardless of whether you like the author or not and yes, literally all of the media you consume will have aspects of it that are bigoted in some way. So either do not consume anything or just try to stick to your own morals but do not pretend that everyone else must do the same in order to Be a Good Person. Especially when supporting minority groups means actual hands on support like donating to organisations or campaigning and not just refusing to watch a movie.

*The gender critical movement is full of actual real hurtful transphobia and while I don't think a different take on gender from a feminist perspective is necessarily transphobic because hello, here I am, I don't think she, due to her latest comments, or most GC people have the knowledge or the nuance to actually get to those ideas in a nuanced sensitive way (problem is that, even if she did, those ideas would get called transphobic anyway because only one take on gender and sex is allowed at any one time, see Ngozi Adichie, which doesn't take away the importance of navigating these ideas in the kindest and most open minded way possible, but it's frustrating that everyone has to walk on eggshells because disagreements are not allowed). So no, she's no feminist icon, but the core issue here still remains that there's a difference between sex and gender, something that literally everyone knows, even the people who don't believe sex or gender are a thing still know what the concepts refer to. It's impossible to talk about now but that's it, the core issue, that there's a difference between sex and gender and what that means for people and what their relationship is to both and the way in which both their sexed and gendered experiences affect them. That's what the entire debate is about and you know, people have different opinions on it and that should be fine. It shouldn't be an attack or denying anyone's rights to talk about that difference, problem is when it turns into that a la WHRC and others.

[patchies]

Shadows

Pairing: Dream x Reader x ???

Summary: An apocalyptic world where creatures of the night roam all around it. Searching for living beings to satisfy their hunger. Vicious creatures they are. It’s said that one person called upon their wrath in revenge. You awake in this place with another human being at your side. No memories whatsoever of the life you’ve had prior to coming here. In search of a way out, and your memories, you stumble upon multiple people with many personalities. Some can’t wait to meet you. If you take it the friendly or hostile way is up to you, but worry not... Nothing can hurt you. Or can it, now?

Warnings: depictions of gore

Word Count: 1.8+k

Author’s Note: This story is heavily inspired by a dream I had around two months ago and it pushed me into writing it. I haven’t ever thought that I would be writing and publishing a story. Let alone in English since it’s very far from my mother language, but I have to admit I like it way more. As I am pretty proud of it, I’ve decided why not just try? This story is not going to be updated very frequently as I hardly find time and motivation, but I have the whole story mostly planned out and I have plenty of ideas for it! There are 7 chapters written altogether as of now and I will try to update at least once a month. I’ve started writing longer chapters from the 6th and those will take longer to finish, but I sincerely hope you’ll enjoy it!

Wattpad link: here

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Chapter 1: The Awakening

Your eyes are met with complete darkness, unable to perceive your surroundings. The creepy, dusty and smoggy atmosphere isn't making you any less uneasy and confused either. Quite the contrary, actually. An unbelievable sickening feeling takes over your stomach and a great migraine is ever so present. Steering your thoughts to completely different places than they're supposed to. You feel the rapid thumping of your heart and panic floats in your head.

It takes you a few minutes until your dilated pupils get used to the blackness, but when they do, you're able to see the outlines of some demolished furniture. Upon fixating more on your surroundings, you distinctly spot the torn plain green wallpaper and empty broken picture frames hanged up on the wall. The tattered blinds covering the cracked windows tell you it's night and you seem to have gained consciousness in the middle of it.

Though, when you attempt to rethink through your day and previous whereabouts, you come up blank. Something like a heavy fog restrains your memories. A metaphorical lock put around it to secure them away from your conscious mind. As much as you try to concentrate on the past, you're left with nothing. It doesn't only leave you grasping for the forgotten past, but it makes you feel stranded and gasping of any, and very needed, recollection.

A sharp inhale of air makes your head rapidly turn in the direction of the sound and squint your eyes. You can hardly see the body of the person. The dark corner makes it difficult to focus, yet the figure still seems to take notice of you instantly, “Who are you…?”

Speaks up a very groggy voice and you can deduce their voice is coming from the shadows. Utterly hidden by the dark abyss. It sounds masculine, so you leave it at that, not taking too much interest in finding out any more information about the strange human. He seems to be in the same situation as you, but you still decide to be cautious around him. He's only a stranger to you, so you aren't going to blindly trust him. After all, stranger-danger is a rule, right?

You choose to stay guarded for now.

“Why does it matter to you?” You harshly reply. There really isn't anything to go off when it comes to his personality and intentions. As much as you'd like to be happy about seeing another human being, you don't know in what situation you are stuck in and you aren't the stupidest, neither the smartest, in the world. You'd rather stay cautious than die, “I'm surprised you have the audacity to speak to me even though you're obscuring your identity from me.”

“Well, if I tell you my name, will you tell me yours?” The stranger suggests, but you're inclined to not let him get through you.

“It doesn't matter to me. All I want is to get out and find whoever brought me here,” you simply say, “or search for my way home. That, doesn't have to involve you, nor your help.”

You turn your back to his voice, brushing him off with your words. Fixating your sight on the few boxes scattered throughout the room. You're sure he can feel your annoyance, but it's valid. He's making non-significant propositions, which is honestly irritable.

“I could help you. We could have each other's back.”

“What have I just said?” You inquire with an annoyed tint, “You have nothing of value to offer me, and you can't even step out of the shadows.”

With that said you slowly start to stand up from your position and look around for a possible exit. The floorboards creak under your weight as you step from foot to foot. The first thing that comes to your mind is to head straight for the windows for some unknown reason. Upon taking several steps to the blinds, you hear the stranger's footsteps echo. Your feet leisurely continue, but you're tempted to check behind you, therefore you do. Just in case he proves to have any malignant tendency.

There's still no silhouette of the other human, hence why you can't confirm what kind of a movement he's executed. With that done, you turn your head back and concentrate on the task at hand.

Once you get close enough to pull the blinds open, a loud screeching noise travelling throughout the whole street alerts both you and your companion. Blood pumps through your body at faster pace and you begin to be sceptical at heart upon hearing the scream of an unidentified creature.

“What the hell was that sound?” You can hear a slight waver in his voice. Presumably from not being able to decipher the inhuman noise from outside.

It didn't seem to scare you as much as it scared him. Although you did flinch back from the window, your guard has stayed high nonetheless the fright you experienced.

You shrug, but after realising he cannot possibly see you very well, you give him a response, “How am I supposed to know? Do you think I'm a witch?”

“Uh– yes and no?” After those words leave his mouth, your head turns to what you assume is his direction and give him a nasty glare. Offended thoughts swim in your head along with the throbbing pain of a headache.

A relatively loud scoff escapes your mouth and you fixate him with a harsh look.

You're sure he's going to die by either your hands, or he'll serve as sacrifice to the creature.

“You've chosen your destiny now, man.”

The scoff that leaves his mouth this time tells you that he's against the idea or he just plainly thinks you're joking. Either way, he's sold his soul by saying those words.

Cutting the conversation off, you finally get to glance outside the window, and you yell out a curse, which is enough to let the thing outside know of your existence. In the matter of seconds, it flies to your window and starts banging against it. It's long arms slam the panels with surprisingly little force. You fall back and try to scramble to your feet as quickly as you can. Can't go around risking your life even upon seeing the strength of the shadowy figure.

The man, who has chosen to stay anonymous up until now, decides against his better judgement to flee on his own to help you up. It doesn't show much strength, but the window already adores quite a few cracks, so you don't think it'll hold up for long.

“Just hurry up!”

As soon as you're stabilised and on both of your legs, you book it to the door. At first, the handle doesn't let you open them, but after a few sharp tugs it gives out and you fall to the floor again. You let out a curse once more, supporting your body on your forearms and stand up. The stranger only snickers behind you.

You stay silent and get your thoughts and clumsiness together.

“Here! We could hide in one of the other rooms!” He hurriedly tries to tug you to the direction he's talking about, but you don't budge. You can't take any risks when you don't know the house's layout and the person in front of you.

“I don't think it's a good idea,” you ponder over your thoughts, but after you hear glass being shattered, you run to another room and to the closest closet you can find. Completely disregarding the terrified look the man threw your way. You duck to the ground as hastily as you can and cover your mouth just in case. Soon wooden boards start creaking in the hallway and, even though you wished the man would be a sacrifice, you hope he's found a safe place and survives this monstrosity.

A rather loud groan is heard somewhat close to you and you peek through the small gap in the closet doors to see a rather disturbing view. One that you wish you haven't.

The creature has found a dead rat (rather beheaded the poor creature beforehand?) and is holding it to its bloody mouth now. Multiple sharp teeth sink over and over into the freshly killed animal, happily munching on the treat. It's turned sideways to you, so you can very clearly see all the contents of the rodent's body as it eats it. It's guts and blood spilling everywhere on the floor and on the demon itself.

You shudder, avert your eyes, and just look at your curled-up knees. ‘What in the name of hell have I just witnessed?’

It takes less than ten minutes to finish its fiesta and you can see the unidentified creature turn to smoke from your peripheral vision. It stays in that form and floats out of the room and you guess it leaves out the window it broke.

Silent tears start to fall down your eyes and you honestly aren't surprised. The whole encounter was traumatic to say the least. To you, it was as if you were the protagonist in a horror movie, being hunted down by some unknown force. Except this is real life that we're talking about. Your life is currently put at stake and you don't want to die so early. Be at the hands of the creature or some other mythical thing.

This won't be the worst thing to happen to you, Reader.  Or will it, now?

Was that demon chasing somebody before I yelled out?

It had seemed to be occupied by something else before you got startled by its presence on the little roof below the window. You can still remember the soulless holes for eyes staring in your direction vividly.

Was it me luring it to us? Could there be more people?

You sit there, contemplating the event that has just happened, for what seems to be forever. Blank stare put onto your hands as you cry and your body succumbs to total numbness. That is until the closet door creak open, forcing you to look up.

There stands a man of average height with messy brown hair. You notice just now how he exactly looks upon not having that much time to do so an hour (was it?) ago.

His eyes convey an emotion close to yours, which is utter fear and confusion. He silently offers you his hand and you gladly, albeit shakily, take it. He pulls you out the door and towards another room with a dusty and an almost broken bed, pulls you into his lap and tucks your head into his neck. Letting you quietly cry while he gently runs his hand across your back. You don't even care a stranger has you in his lap. He lets you cry until you have no more tears running down your cheeks.

Your guarded feelings towards the man begin to crack amidst the comfort you crave right now.

When you're done, you both can't get yourselves to break the silence. You’ve distanced yourself from him, but you both are too afraid to even utter a word and accidentally lure the creature back in. Although, he decides to break it with a small whisper and with an attempt of a comforting smile.

“Do you mind sharing your name with me now?”

#technoblade #dream #sapnap #apocalypse au #reader insert #mcyt x reader #mcyt #techno #dream team #dream x reader #dreamwastaken #l'manburg #shadows #??? x reader

[t0wnspersonb]

Songs and Coffee (Tendou Satori x Reader)

lalesnotes

said:

Hi if you're taking requests rn, I'd like a one-shot for tendou! The idea is that every morning, reader has a coffee on her school table before she arrives to class. She doesn't know who's behind this but she's happy bc she LOVES coffee. One day, she decides to arrive sooner than usual so that she can find out. When she discovers it is tendou, she's surprise bc they barely talk but she thinks he's cute so she decides to do smth about it. End it as you please, I just want them together ❣️ Thanks!

~~~

Anonymous said:

Hi! First, I just read all your fics and omg your fingers do magic ??? They were all so so so good! And secondly, if requests are open, I would like one about Tendou being best friends with the reader but he likes her. He has never said anything about it because he thinks is one-sided but he just can't take it anymore and want to confess. The idea is that they're watching 10 Things I hate about you, and he thinks is a good idea to confess next day singing in front of everyone like in the movie

~~~

Word Count: 2,303

~~~

OMFG guys😫😫😫 this was so incredibly hard to write! It’s not that I don’t like Tendou, in fact @sunshinewitchz​ and I have talked about how much he’s been growing on us, but his character I feel like is so hard to capture right! I’ve said this before, but my biggest concern is always making sure I’m able to capture characters right. I really hope I did an okay job with this, I hope it’s not complete shit😭😭😭 I also decided to combine these requests together so I hope it’s okay, and if it is complete shit then I apologize @lalesnotes​ and anon! I would love any feedback and I hope you guys enjoy it! 

ALSO, this is my last request! I won’t be taking anymore at the moment, I’m sorry if I wasn’t able to get to all of them! I will let you guys know when I am taking more requests, and feel free to send some then!😘😘 I’m thinking about opening up requests in about a week or so, just to give you guys some kind of time frame! I will still be posting my own stories however and I can’t wait to put more content out for you guys!

~~~

“Hasn’t this been going on for like a month now?” Your friend asked, taking her seat next to you.

 “Just about yeah.” You smiled, glancing down at the cup of coffee placed between your two hands. The coffee was made perfectly, you had always preferred a medium roast with four sugars and four creams. But it wasn’t just any medium roast coffee with four sugars and four creams, it was coffee from your favorite little coffee shop around the corner.

 Every morning.

 There it was on your desk, still fresh, still hot, always incredibly delicious. 

 At first you had thought that someone had left it there accidentally until you noticed the sticky note under the cup.

 Every morning that you received your coffee you also received the sweetest notes to go along with it.

 They were always addressed to you, and always signed at the bottom as your secret admirer.

 At first you had thought it was a bit embarrassing, and your friends teasing you also didn’t help. But as the coffee and notes continued to appear before you every single day, well, it definitely was growing on you.

 You were curious and flattered by the sweet gesture, if you were being completely honest, a small crush began to develop.

 You didn’t even know this person and yet… yet it seemed like they knew you, in the least creepy way possible.

 Unbeknownst to you, a certain spiky haired redhead glanced over towards you, a small smile grazing his lips before he looked away.

 “So, are you going to try to find out who this admirer is?” you friend asked during lunch.

 “I want to… I just don’t know where I would start.” You sighed, resting your face against your hand. “I really want to meet them… and thank them! I love coffee so much, and it’s not one in a while, it’s every day. That has to be expensive.” you frowned as you thought of that.

 She rolled her eyes at you. “That’s the least of your worries. What if it’s some kind of creep? What if that person is a stalker?” she asked, looking around your guys’ table in suspicion.

 This time you rolled your eyes, “I highly doubt that. The notes they leave are incredibly sweet and well thought out, there’s no way that person could be a stalker.” you said poking at your rice with chopsticks.

 Before your friend could retort she took notice to the tall ace of the volleyball team. “Ushijima-san! Would you like to sit with us!?” 

 You looked over and noticed the tall male and beside him was his spiky haired sidekick; Tendou.

 You noticed him staring at you for a moment, so you offered him a gentle smile in acknowledgement. He gave you a small one back before he and Ushijima took a seat at your table.

 “Is Tsu behaving?” you asked curiously.

 You were incredibly familiar with the volleyball team, because your little brother was on it. 

 While you generally didn’t like to linger when it came to Tsutomu’s teammates, you were at least polite and friendly with them.

 This was a courtesy that you did for your precious little brother, you absolutely adored him. To save him any embarrassment, you decided to stay separate from that part of his life.

 You still attended all of his games sure, but when he was surrounded by his teammates, you generally stayed away.

 Plus, you didn’t want him to feel like you were hovering, a habit you had done since you were children.

 You were a doting big sister, which was why he was so spoiled, not that you would say so out loud.

 “Goshiki is still learning. But he can be reliable.” Ushijima stated simply.

 “He’s a good kid, our future ace just needs more experience.” Tendou threw in, he peered at you with a cat-like grin.

 You looked at the middle blocker curiously, out of everyone on the team he was the most interesting. His mannerisms, the way he talked, his calculating eyes, his voice… hell, even his volleyball play.

 You never really took the time to actually talk to the middle blocker, despite the fact that he was in the same class as you.

 It was always small talk.

 But even with the small talk, you were incredibly intrigued by him, not to mention you found him quite cute.

 “Please continue taking care of him.” You said sincerely, eyes never faltering from his face. “I always worry about him.”

 Tendou’s eyes flashed in amusement at your words, he rested his elbow against the table, leaning his face against his hand as he situated himself a bit closer to you from across the table. 

 “You’re a doting sister aren’t you Y/n-chan?” He asked, his eyes turning into slits as he grinned cheekily at you.

 A flush coated your face at his statement, you looked away in a pout. “No more than any other big sister.”

 “Are you kidding?” Your friend snorted. “Of course, she is! She’s always talking about Tsu and his accomplishments. That’s why he seeks out praise from everyone so much, it’s because of her!”

 “That’s not true!” You said in defense. 

 “I see.” Ushijima said.

 “It’s not true Ushijima-san!” You turned to look at the stoic captain.

 Tendou watched on in amusement, entirely captivated by your flushed face and pouty expression. 

 “You’re so cute Y/n-chan.” Tendou sang out easily, watching in further amusement as your face turned into a tomato.

 Before you could protest further the lunch bell rang.

 “See you in class Y/n-chan.” Tendou called out easily walking away with Ushijima, humming to himself loudly as he left.

 He called you cute.

 Why would he…

 It didn’t matter.

 He said you were cute.

 “Your face is like a cherry tomato.” Your friend mused.

 “S-Shut up!” you exclaimed, grabbing your burning cheeks as you guys left the lunchroom.

 “It’s just Tendou-kun, you need to calm down.” She laughed.

 You frowned at her statement, while it was true… that interaction was something that you couldn’t get out of your head.

 It’s not like that was your first time talking to the middle blocker, so why did that feel different somehow?

 Thoughts of the tall male plagued your mind the entire day, and you often found yourself glancing back at him during class.

 Luckily, each time that you did he was preoccupied, never noticing your stare.

 You couldn’t place your finger on it, but every fiber in your being wanted to talk to him again, wanted to get to know him more.

 That would be okay wouldn’t it?

 *****

 Tendou sighed, leaning back into his chair as he toweled off his wet hair from his shower. 

 Practice was particularly exhausting today, and all he wanted was to relax the rest of the night. 

 He cocked his head to the side as he watched a scene that was going on. The TV was turned on more for background noise, he wasn’t paying attention as to what movie it was that was playing.

 It looked like a romance one, since the male character was singing amongst the bleachers to the girl in hopes of gaining her attention and affection.

 “Interesting.” he hummed to himself, watching as the scene continued to unfold.

 If he hadn’t made it obvious before, Tendou was completely enthralled by you.

 His first impression of you was that you were obviously beautiful, you were a small little thing, and he found it incredibly surprising that you were Goshiki’s big sister. 

 But after the initial shock, he found that you were entirely predictable, your manners, your reactions, your thoughts, it was enduring to say the least.

 You were an open book.

 He adored you completely.

 A large crush began to develop and when he had realized that you were also in his class… well, he just knew he had to do something to gain your attention.

 So, when he had heard your conversation with your friends that you loved the coffee from the shop around the corner of the school, he knew exactly what he had to do.

 While Tendou was always observing people, this was entirely different, and when he saw your confused face turn into delight the first time he had left the coffee on your desk, he was ecstatic. 

 Every note that he had written for you, came from his heart. 

 He had only hoped that you were beginning to like him back now. Which he thought was a large possibility, considering that he had caught you looking back at him in class today, multiple times.

 He was fantastic at guess blocking, but this guessing was entirely different, and he was worried that it might be wrong.

 Tendou had to take a chance though, after a couple of weeks of supplying you with coffee, he had to confess.

 He had to tell you.

 In the only way he knew how.

 *****

 You frowned as you stared at your empty desk, no coffee. No note. Nothing. 

 You had gotten so used to seeing those items every morning before class that now… now this was weird.

 Honestly, you were kind of upset.

 Did your admirer forget?

 Was your admirer just late today?

 Did your admirer stop liking you?

 You felt your stomach drop at the last thought, you had hoped it wasn’t that.

The door to the classroom busted open. “Y/n-chan! You need to come see this! Quick!” She panted, grabbing your wrist and hauling you away from the classroom.

 “W-What’s going on? What happened?” You pant, trying to keep up with her quick feet.

 You took notice of the large crowd of people gathering around the volleyball gym, whispers scattered amongst them.

 Your friend finally released your hand, both of you attempting to catch your breath as you guys pushed through the crowd to see what was going on.

 You took notice to the tall ace immediately, holding what appeared to be a stereo. His face was expressionless, as always. He was in his gym clothes still, their morning practice probably just ending. But then you took notice of the tall middle blocker beside him, holding a microphone with a large grin on his face.

 “Y/n-chan! This is dedicated to you!” he declared, pointing directly at you. You could feel your face flush as people turned to look at you, but their attention went back to Tendou as soon as he opened his mouth and began singing.

 Your lips parted in awe.

 While you and pretty much everyone else in this school was used to his little songs, this was entirely different.

 He sounded good.

 Really good.

 Was Tendou’s voice always this amazing?

 Was he always… this attractive?

 Oh fuck.

 He was really attractive.

 A soft smile grazed your lips as you continued staring at the redhead, his antics as he moved around with the microphone was entirely enduring and adorable. When Tendou opened his eyes and stared directly at you, you felt your heart thump hard in your chest.

 After Tendou had finished his song the crowd of people clapped and cheered before walking off.

 Leaving you, Tendou, your friend, and Ushijima.

 Your friend pushed you lightly towards the middle blocker, a wide grin covering her face as she watched you approach him shyly.

 “Tendou-san.” your face was flushed as you stared up at the male in awe. 

 “Hold that thought Y/n-chan!” he said, turning over to his bag that was set behind him and then he pulled out… your coffee. “Sorry it wasn’t there this morning, I had to get to practice and set this up…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

 “It’s you!?” you blurted out; eyes wide in shock.

 Tendou’s heart was racing in his chest at your question, the shocked look on your face caused his confidence to deflate. 

 You didn’t like him back. He was sure of it.

 “Uh yeah…” he said quietly, his eyes casting away from you. His spiky hair all but flattening with his decreasing confidence and mood. “I understand if you don’t like me back… People have always thought I was a freak, so I get it if you find me creepy too-”

 You shook your head wildly, grabbing both of his large hands in your small ones. You ignored the blush on your face and his shocked expression. 

 “That’s not true Tendou-san! I think you’re amazing!” You blurted out, the filter on your mouth completely gone as you let all the truths you were thinking spill from your lips. “You’re so sweet and thoughtful! I had no idea that you were my secret admirer! I loved it all! I loved your song! You’re an incredible singer! I do like you back Tendou-san!”

 His eyes widened at your confession; his gaze flickered down to your intertwined hands. Your grip was warm and tight on his large ones. Your skin was soft and delicate against his, and Tendou couldn’t help but think that he wanted to hold your hand forever.

 “Then please go out with me Y/n-chan.” he said sweetly, giving you the gentlest smile.

 You couldn’t help but smile back, nodding enthusiastically. 

 “I still need to change back into my uniform, if you wait for me, we can walk to class together.” He carefully removed his hands from yours, picking up his gym back and handing you your coffee.

 “I’ll be right here.” you declared, watching him and Ushijima walk off.

 Your friend squealed loudly, slapping at your arm. “I can’t believe it! This is great! Tsu might be mad though.” she frowned, as she thought about your little brother.

 “I don’t care.” you sighed dreamily, taking a sip of your coffee. 

 It was still hot. Medium roast, four sugars, four creams, and incredibly delicious.

 Although, it was far sweeter than anything you had ever tasted before.

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #tendou satori x reader #tendou satori x you #tendou satori #tendou x reader #tendou x you #tendou fluff #tendou oneshot #oneshot #fluff #haikyuu oneshot #tendou haikyuu #requests

[nocturnal-dreams]

I might take this down later tonight so if you want to screenshot it so you can use my words against me like in 2 months again go the fuck ahead but I've heard so many anons going on my account that I will not be responding to because well I really couldn't give less of a fuck. Anons are pissed off at me for multiple reasons. While its 1am and I'm kind of drunk, I feel like I can quickly explain myself.

⚠️ Stop reading now if you really couldn't give a damn ⚠️

➖Okay so I've seen a lot of people pissed off at me for writing for c!Schlatt. Now I completely agree that you can be mad at Schlatt, he's said some fucked up things but to be attacking his fans and the people who are a fan of his character, no that's fucked up and if you're a follower of mine and hate on Schlatt fans, you can kindly fuck off, you're no follower of mine. Look I'm sorry but I'm not gonna stop writing for a character that I enjoy because the internet isnt a fucking perfect picket white fence.

Another thing related to Schlatt is JustAMinx or the chuckle sandwich crew in general but I'll just talk about Minx. I'm still gonna write for her since I genuinely enjoy her content. Do I like that she's friends with Kacey? Absolutely not but Minx is an adult and it's up to her to make her own choices. Do I wish she'd not support Kacey, absolutely but once again she's an adult and its up to her to be responsible when looking at who she's to be friends with

➖Okay number 2, my dress pictures or just the pictures I post of my irl life in general. I've been getting a lot of hate anons lately that are mad at me for wearing a dress because people think I'm faking being non-binary for clout, shut the fuck up. I can wear my packer and binder and I'm still gonna be non-binary, what's so different about me wearing a fucking dress that shows a little cleavage? Grow the fuck up

Another few anons I've been getting are about my weight in the photos, people claiming they're worried about my health, no bro you're just being a dick. Look I am afab and I have a little thing called a uterus, now something that this uterus causes me to do is bloating, but I also have a thing called tits. Now I dont know if you knew this but porn stars may have huge fucking tits and no fat but you know what that is? That's surgeries and dieting to one piece of food every week. Now do I feel like doing any of that? Fuck no, I'm confident in my body and I'll wear whatever the fuck I want no matter my size.

So here's for you fucks:

➖Number 3, some people are mad at me for keeping myself private? I made a post like 2 months ago I think now telling people that they dont know me, they only know what I wish to tell them and that I like to live a private life. The reason for this post? Because I had an anon send me a ask of my exact location and birth name, I am safe dont worry but the second that happened, I felt like I needed to set some kind of boundary because that was fucking creepy especially because at that time, I was living with my friend and her two year old daughter.

In that post I said "I care about all of you guys but I dont know you and you dont know me, what I say is what I choose to tell you guys." People took that is me referring to everyone as a number, once again my words being taken out of context

➖Number 4, look I'm not a licensed therapist so stop treating me like I am one. I'm human to and need my breaks. You can message me and send me as ask if you need somewhere to vent but how about we dont get pissed off at me if I dont answer immediately or if my advice isn't good enough. I dont have all the answers, I try to help with the knowledge that I have.

Also please put a trigger warning at the start of your ask, it just helps me be able to filter everything better and also stops people if they skim read and might be put into a bad place, it's just so helpful to do and it takes two seconds

➖Number five, calling me a groomer for interacting with minors...

*inhale* WHAT?! So you're telling me that me supporting talented writers who happen to be minors and being someone they can talk to and be like a parental figure to is me being a groomer? Huh?!

I'm sorry but that is completely bullshit, want to see a groomer? Look at someone like James Charles or Onison, get your head out of your ass

➖Number 6, the one that pisses me off the most. "You dont write enough", do you really think in any kind of small pea brain mind that people being rude to me about not writing enough is gonna make me want to write more? I took a break from writing in the first place because people were being dicks to me about it, saying oh you spelt this wrong, or this is so cringy, or stop making the person ooc.

I write for myself and I'm gonna be honest, I have many finished drafts and fic ideas but I dont want to post them because well I'm tired of being shitted on for every minor mistake.

➖look I'm not a perfect person and have never tried to come across as one. I fuck up and I'm sure you do too. At this rate with all the hate anons recently, I'm very close to turning off anon asks or just asks in general. But I don't want to do that because my anon asks are for people who want to vent but want to stay anonymous and I feel like that would take away that security of I turned it off.

Just let people exist and get your head out of your ass

#nocturnal vents

[nevtelenwriting]

Oops, I Fucked a Serial Killer

George Foyet x AFAB!Reader, gender-neutral

Word Count: 6,900~, 5K that is just solid PWP filth

I don’t know why I’m allowed to name things. 

This be filthy yo: one-night stand, risky sex/no condom, mild choking, multi-orgasms/overstimulation, come-swallowing. I have nothing more to say for myself. I’m (not) sorry.

@aaronhctch

(Let me know if you wanna be tagged!)

**

You meet your friends at the bar in your best outfit for dancing and can already feel your heart in your throat from nervousness.

It’s not something you normally do, and you feel silly assuring yourself of that. You typically come out to dance, have a good time, and maybe flirt with a few strangers. It’s a nice, quick confidence boost, you have fun, and you can get a little tipsy to take away any doubts you have come morning.

Tonight is different; while you want to have a good night out with friends, this time, you’re actively searching for someone to go home with. It’s been a long time—too long, really, and the thought hurts—since you’ve gotten laid. It’s been longer still since you’ve had a good lay. Nothing against your bed partners, but there was a certain lack of…experience. There’s nothing wrong with wanting some meaningless sex, you know that. It’s more your type you’re struggling to find the courage to pursue.

Your friends know your plan, and they try to help, naturally. After two drinks have you pleasantly buzzed, your jitters numbed down to an afterthought, you go out to the small dancefloor. You sandwich between two of your friends to put on a wonderful show to anyone who may be interested. Your friends even point out guys for you, jock types, nerd types, chill types. You brush them all off with uncommitted maybes, enjoy the dancing more than considering their options. They really aren’t your type, not tonight at least, not for the itch you have that severely needs scratched.

You feel eyes burning on you. Instinct says someone is watching you, and the second instinct wonders if it’s dangerous, how acutely you pick up on the prickling at the back of your neck. You turn to try to find who it could be but can’t spot them. What you find instead is a row of people lining the bar, a few stealing the sparse amount of stools, and one man in particular nursing a drink, paying no mind on the dance floor, that absolutely catches your eye.

He still fits some of the demographic of people crowding into the bar, but the majority are college-age so he stands out to you even across the room. When he looks up a second later, almost reading your mind he meets your eyes immediately, lingering on you for a second before returning to his drink. You decide to take a chance. A small one, at least, which is a closer inspection.

You don’t want to appear too eager, so you wait until the end of the song—one eye on the guy in hopes he doesn’t leave—before you excuse yourself from your friends under the guise of ordering another drink. You don’t want your alcohol-addled brain and club lights to give you blinders, the last thing you want is too much regret come morning.

He’s even lovelier up close. As you call the attention of the bartender you catch smile lines around his cheeks, crinkles at his dark eyes glinting in the low, pulsing lights. He’s most assuredly not college-age, and he’s gorgeous, athletic and tall, t-shirt showing off his forearms. You shiver a little, nervous thoughts pushed aside by the liquid ease of intoxication bleeding into fantasy. He has pretty hands.

He doesn’t bother pretending not to scope you out; while you side-eye him, he rakes his eyes over you, scanning you up and down like a simultaneous prize and puzzle. It makes you shiver again, and you hope he doesn’t say something crude or creepy that will make you have to run for the hills. For this guy though, you’re starting to think there’s a lot you’ll overlook. He maintains the shared silence while you wait for your drink, doesn’t make the first move and your heart starts pounding quicker, eagerness nearly making you drop your drink when you get it.

“This type of bar your scene?” you ask, lamely, and almost smack yourself with said drink.

He turns his head back to you, cocked to the side like he’s seriously contemplating that question. Or rather, contemplating you. There’s a harsh scrutiny he has about him, intense with a confidence and control you’ve rarely seen in any other men. You feel your skin prickle under his gaze, your face a little hot but you blame it on the alcohol.

“Why?” He counters, a brow raising with it, “I don’t look like a frat boy?”

The question makes you laugh, bubbling your drink up. Your reply comes easy with the tease, “Maybe college dean.”

He smiles at that, crooked on his mouth as his head tilts again, all but scrutinizing you, “You have a thing for professors?”

You shrug, trying to play off how accurately he hit the nail on that head. “Depends. Some are sleazy, some are worth the effort.”

It’s a challenge as much as an offer, and you sip slowly at your drink as he snorts at your reply. He turns fully in his seat to face you, elbow on the counter, chin in his hand, apparently amused by what you’ve said.

“You really want to waste time small-talking or can we get out of here?”

It’s forward, brash, completely bull-dozing your retort and it shouldn’t have made you feel so hot. This guy clearly isn’t in the mood to win you over; he thinks he already has, and if it wasn’t so true you might have been offended. Instead you feel your pulse speed up in anticipation, playing back on his quip.

“What makes you think I’m interested in you?”

He snickers again, and this time his widening grin bares teeth, “I know a daddy complex when I see one.”

You gape at him, your face flushing further and you hope the alcohol will hide it. “Hey!”

“It’s true.” He arched both brows at you, “I have more grey than brown hair and you beelined to me.”

“I did not beeline,” you mutter indignantly, trying to save face though the way he’s figured you out has a pleasant, charged heat pooling low in your gut. The banter is fun, and you want to play a little longer. “Maybe I just felt sorry for you, alone over here.”

He didn’t take the bait. “It never takes long for the right one to find me.”

“Oh?” You arch your brows back at him, playfully mocking, “Who’s the right one?”

He chuckles, giving a small, disbelieving shake of his head while his dark eyes never leave yours. His lingering smirk crinkles up the lines on his face and you’re overwhelmed suddenly with the desire to touch. “I see types like your friends going after cocksure little boys, all ego with no idea how to use their dick. You though?”

His eyes scan you again, lingering across your thighs, stomach, chest. You bite your lip to keep yourself from shifting under that intense gaze, that heat in you starting to hum lower. “You want older. You want the one that knows exactly what he’s doing, that’s going to leave you knees shaking and thinking about it for weeks.”

You definitely don’t feel yourself throb at that. Absolutely not. You have to swallow to keep your voice steady when you retort, “You ever get tired of being so cocky?”

“That’s not cocky.” He still smiles so easy, so assured. “That’s awareness. Besides, I know a few choice things.”

You feel a little breathless when you ask. “What are those?”

He runs his tongue quick over his bottom lip—he has to know your eyes will follow—and leans in then, hand settling hot on your lower back to pull you close. He places his lips to your ear and curls warm breath around the short hairs there as he murmurs with a voice dropped low enough to rumble through your chest. “I know you’re gagging for me to take you home. I know you’re already wet thinking about it. And I know I’m going fuck you so hard your legs give out.”

You can’t even form a reply; your breath shudders out of you, and all you can say is, “Oh.”

He chuckles and pulls back, gliding his hand up to curl his fingers around your chin. “So. As I said. Small talk, or a cab?”

“Cab.”

“Good.”

You both pay your tabs and the entire time his hand doesn’t leave you, strong and warm on the small of your back, your arm, your neck while you wait and then leave together. That heat inside you has coiled tight like a spring, coiling more with every second you have to wait to get out of there. You text your friends to let them know you’ll be back tomorrow, where you are. He doesn’t mind when you ask if you can go back to your place, either, which at least means he’s not some sort of murderer.

Though on that train of thought, followed quickly by a series of excited texts and a very specific question, you stop before climbing in alongside the guy in the cab, and he regards you with an amused arch to his brow.

“Backing out?” He asks, a severity in the words that sounds…well, a little of disappointment, but more like he’s daring you to confirm it.

“No, I, uh, I feel stupid,” you laugh unsteadily, “I never asked your name.”

The pause makes you falter. He’s watching you like you posed a difficult question, his face stony with carefulness as he schools his reaction. His comment is just as calculated. “Anonymous sex is usually anonymous.”

You wince at that, feeling both a little dejected and dismayed. “Sorry.”

“But it’s George.”

You blink again, and give your name with a smile. He grins back.

“Nice you meet you. Would you get in already?”

You expect the cab ride to be awkward and silent, that or awkward and filled with questions about each other you don’t really want. George is hot, he’s confident, and you want him, there’s not much else you need to know.

You don’t expect him to lean over one minute into the fifteen-minute drive, whispering low back against your ear. “How good are you at keeping quiet?”

The question is accompanied by that strong hand settling on your thigh, fingers digging into the inseam of your pants just enough to feel the rough scrape of nails on the fabric. The fiction jolts through your nerves and your mouth goes dry, pulse in your throat, as you stutter out a wordless response. He can’t really be thinking…

George’s fingertips drag up further, coaxing your knees apart, and glides seamlessly up to cup against the warmth between your legs. Your breath hitches in sharply before you bite down on your lip, and George, lips still pressed to your ear, laughs. “Guess you suck at it. Good.”

George doesn’t open your pants, not with the short ride you guess, but he’s wicked with his fingers regardless; he’s barely moving at first, just pressing, rhythmic and sure that has you thrumming for more, can feel your sex beginning to ache with arousal and want. Your breathing starts to get heavy, hands in fists to keep still.

“Spread your legs,” he commands, not a request, and you do it, pushing your trembling thighs apart and suddenly you feel just how wet you’ve gotten, seeping heat through your pants as he fits his hand against you fully. George straightens up then, eyes forward looking no worse for wear as he continues to tease you through your steadily soaking pants.

He shifts his hand, palm on your mound, fingers pressing, in, in, fitting them into the space between your lips you have no idea how he finds so easy. He finds your swelling tip like a homing beacon next, caught between two fingers immediately. You almost moan that time, hand flying up to cover your mouth as he glides smooth, slow, languid passes between your legs so the cabbie doesn’t see any quick movements.

You spend the rest of the cab ride biting into your lip, your palm, your sleeve, trembling in your seat and trying not to make sound. Your one knee is drawn up against the door, almost sunk into your seat as he works you to hot, pulsing need. Your shirt sticks at your back, toes curling in your shoes to keep yourself from rocking up as he rubs you detachedly faster, not a care in the world how you shake, how close to orgasm you are just from his touch. You taste iron from how much you’ve chewed your lip raw, your panting quiet and erratic to try not to straight up moan with every breath. He picks up pace almost on minute cues, and by twelve minutes you can’t stop yourself grabbing his wrist, pushing up into his hand to chase your building orgasm, you’re so close you forget you can’t, not here—

George doesn’t let you; he pulls away immediately, flicking you in the thigh that makes you jump at the overstimulation.

“Almost there,” he says, the grin evident in his voice without you looking over to him.

You want to curse him out but you can’t string the words together, not while still riding the edge of your pleasure. You have to bite your hand and force slow breaths for the next two minutes just to calm yourself down. You barely compose yourself before the cabbie stops and George pays. You almost fall out of the car your knees are shaking so much. George is there though, hand out for yours and you resist the urge to climb him, grab his hand, get him back down there already.

“You suck,” you mutter, looking up to see his shoulders shake with silent laughter.

He takes one look at your flushed face before his head tilts with mocking innocence, “Something the matter?”

You just whine then, your faculties shot on continuing the banter; your thighs clench together with a hitching sound, nodding your head because you’re not going to lie.

It flips something in him. His eyes darken, the smile falling, and in a second those strong hands are on your jaw, dragging you into a fierce kiss. It’s almost savage, him sucking your lip between his teeth, nails dragging harsh across your scalp as he tangles his fingers through your hair to deepen the bruising kiss. You moan with it, lost against his lips, your hands flying up to bunch into his shirt and pull him closer. He slides his tongue quick across your swelling lip, pulling another short sound of need from you and you part your lips for him, a wash of delicious heat curling in your belly at the slick press of his tongue teasing its way inside.

The kiss doesn’t last nearly long enough before George pulls away. Want swoops through you again when he looks you dead in the eye, still holding your face and growls, deep and ragged, “Get inside.”

You don’t need to be told twice; you stumble to the main door, fumbling with the keys to open it up and guide the both of you to your apartment. When you flick through your keys at your apartment door for the right one his hands settle on your hips, tugging you back and you almost drop your keys when you feel the tent in his jeans grind against you, hard heat against your backside. It makes your breath hitch again, biting back a whimper that has him chuckling behind you.

“Eager, aren’t you?” He teases coyly, as if he has no responsibility over your current state.

“I could say the same thing,” you counter, though it probably loses some of its weight with how drawn out you sound.

“I’m not denying that,” his voice drops almost an octave with the reply, ragged with same the gravel tone he used outside and in the bar that makes you shiver. Shit, you can barely find the shred of control you still have to get the both of you inside, door closed and locked, before you pull him back down for another desperate kiss.

You lose time then, between the fuzzy remains of your inebriation and his increasingly intoxicating kiss, peppered with a few key moments; the sweet press of his tongue sliding against yours, shirts shed in the hallway, shoes kicked who-the-fuck-cares where, warm hands coasting up your bare back and raking harsh nails up your spine. He kisses you possessively, his big hands almost engulfing your face when he pulls you closer to bruise your lips with his own, like this kiss is the only thing he wants, that your mouth belongs to him and him alone.

You get George to the bedroom and he grabs you by your sides, picks you up with squeak of surprise from you—you had gathered he was strong but not this strong—and bodily tosses you onto your bed. All that tightly coiled heat revives in you, unspirals and spreads into an unbearable want through every limb in your body, the anticipation shaking your hands as you shove your pants off as quick as you can.

George is on you the second they’re off, his own jeans removed so he can knee your legs apart, pinning you with his weight the next second and rocking his hips against you with a wicked grind. The hard line of his arousal fits against you like a puzzle piece, rubbing you hard through your underwear from your hole up to your sensitive tip. It makes you gasp, your back arching at the sweet friction; your hands immediately drop down to grip his hips, pulling him closer and George surprises you when he grabs your hands. He pins your wrists above your head, both fit easily into one hand, and you’re trapped there then, between his hips spreading you wide and him bearing his weight into your hands, all you can do is moan when he drives his hips against you, steady, sharp motions that tease you relentlessly until you feel like you may cum just from the rough grind alone.

George has not stopped looking at you once, you realize, like a predator watching prey and you try not to squirm under that intensity, that fierce knowledge that he knows he has you where he wants you.

“Please, I need—” You start, but he swallows it with another savage kiss, licking into your mouth and rocking faster against you, like he’s fucking you already and the thought makes you tremble, the searing heat growing unbearable between your legs. You were close before in the car and you’re close again now, tipping too close to the edge that you have to break away from the kiss, head thrown back as your breath catches on your half-formed cries.

You sort of gathered George was a rough lover at this point, and he all but confirms it when he buries his mouth against your neck, letting you gasp and whimper aloud as he kisses and nips down the column of your throat, grazing sharp teeth across your racing pulse. The ache between your legs suddenly builds up fast and you buck up, legs locking tight around his hips as your sex pulses against him, soaking through your underwear, the hitching cry of your pleasure loud in your ears. It’s almost a tease, the orgasm too soft, and all it does is ripple prickling heat through every nerve and only makes you want more. He releases your hands, settling both hands on your bed now as he slowly rocks against your still-aching sex.

“You seem a little touch starved, has it been awhile?” He whispered, the taunting grin in his voice evident as the words vibrate through your throat.

“You gonna tease me all night or should I grab a vibrator?” You snap back, shaky and breathless and not at all meaning it. He answers you by turning his mouth back to your neck and sinking his teeth in hard.

“Ow, shit!” You gasp out, jerking away from those teeth by shoving hard at his shoulders. He allowed you to push him, giving you a slow blink and an almost tired raise to his brow.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is that too rough?” George murmurs, dripping with sarcasm and not a shred contrite. It sounds like a challenge as much as anything. You answer by hitching your legs higher up around his hips, grinding into his hard cock you can practically feel twitching against you. You arch your neck back and are rewarded with a low chuckle.

“You shouldn’t be so predictable.” He shakes his head, and then presses warm lips back to your abused throat, “Daddy kink and a masochist.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m—” you cry out on the next harsh bite, nails digging into his back and raking up hard. You’re sure you’ve broken skin, because George groans, long and low into your neck. He arches into your hands, sucks a bruising mark just underneath your jaw and tightens his grip on your wrists and hip.

You practically whined out your comment, “Someone’s pot calling kettle.”

“I’m still not denying anything.” He hums, and you arch again when he laves his tongue over the bruising, tingling bite.

You can’t stand it anymore, now, you need him inside you. “Fuck, get these off.”

George listens, sitting back to hook his thumbs in his boxers and slides them quick, efficient down his thighs and thrown carelessly to the side. Your mouth goes dry as you take him in, thick and already beading up precum at the tip with his arousal. Your sex gives an eager little throb at the sight. You have your own underwear down to your thighs when he takes over, ripping them off of you—you hear the fabric give—and tossing them aside to join his. As soon as you’re both free you grab him and pull him back into a kiss, quickly becoming addicted to the shape of his lips on yours, the way he claims your mouth and pulls you so close so you can feel the tip of his nose pressed hard against your cheek.

He reaches down while you kiss, ghosting his fingers over your slick sex. It makes you gasp, arching up to urge him to press those digits inside. He smirks against your mouth and dips down further, rubbing two fingers against your wet entrance, barely dipping one of them inside to the first knuckle while his thumb circles your swollen tip. He swallows the moan it drags out of you.

“You clean?” He asks against your lips and you nod, are rewarded with another smirk you can feel.

Then he reaches down to himself, and you don’t expect just how thick he is, nor how you gasp when he rubs the blunt, bare head of his dick against your lips.

“Condom! Condom,” You squeak out, and he laughs.

“Was wondering how far you were gonna let me go.”

“Condom,” you reiterate, not in the mood to joke.

“I’m clean.”

You kick him in the thigh as your response and he laughs at you again, “You’re no fun.”

“I’ll just pack this up then,” you gesture at yourself. Of course you want him inside you; you want him so badly it almost hurts, and you are tipsy but not that drunk.

George snorts at your response. He leans in then, mouth hovering over yours, and he doesn’t move away. He pushes forward, just a small roll of his hips. With that bare tip still snug against you it presses, and presses further, it feels so fucking good where it just starts to stretch you that you gasp with it, arching and biting down on your lip to keep quiet because you’re so so close to letting it slip in.

“You sure?” He hums it, close enough to feel his mouth move across yours. It’s almost a tease, like he knows the line you’re walking. Fuck, maybe you are that drunk, you have to be because you moan with his question, the delirious, pleasure-drunk side of you hesitating on your answer.

While you hesitate he reaches down, rubs himself across your swollen tip to your aching hole, making your legs tremble and making you arch for more contact. You can’t catch your breath to tell him no—you really don’t want to, but you know you should—before he reaches up, covers your mouth with his palm so you can’t say anything at all, and then he starts torturing you. He guides himself forward so just the head breaches you; over and over again, he presses it against you, catching your slick rim and you can feel it, you can hear it, how wet you are, how much you’re aching for this.

And then George presses harder, until it pops inside you, so thick you moan loudly even behind his hand, your hole clenching eagerly around it but he never stays in long enough to satisfy. Instead he works himself in and out and you have no idea how he has so much self-control, because you feel like you’re going to lose your mind, you want him so badly. He just keeps doing it, watching you with those intense eyes while he silences all your protests or pleas behind that strong hand. Every press has the heat building back up inside you, making you wetter, making you throb for him, until you’re clenching rhythmically down even when he’s gone, bucking up for more contact and shaking with the pleasure peaking fast toward another climax. He teases you so long you might cum from it, and finally you can’t take it anymore, you start shaking your head, tugging at his fingers and forming wordless sounds.

That smirk comes back, “You want me to stop?”

You shake your head so hard for no you feel your neck twinge.

He smirk grows. “You want me inside you?”

You nod your head just as fast, your breath hitching on a needy whimper.

“That’s what I thought.”

As soon as he has your word he sinks himself inside with one, unrelenting push that makes you cry out behind his hand, so worked up you finally, finally cum for him just from being stretched so wide. His smirk turns into a wicked grin, there’s no way he can’t feel you spasming around his cock as you ride out the waves of your pleasure.

“Again?” He asks, it sounds like it should be a taunt, but this time you hear a strain in his voice, like he’s holding back a groan of his own. “I take it back, you’re gonna be lots of fun.”

You’re past caring about his quips; instead you wrap your legs around him in response, holding on tight as you whisper, “George, please.”

That self-control from before breaks. That feral little growl comes back as he grabs you by your shoulders, using you for leverage to fuck into you at a brutal pace. You cry out from it, head thrown back because none of it hurts, you’re so wet your body accommodates him fast, eagerly taking him in to the hilt every single time he buries himself in deep. It feels so good you can’t do anything but tighten your legs around his driving hips, reaching up blindly to hold on to his arms and gasp out yes’s and please, moaning his name because every time you do his hips snap into you hard, fucking his thick cock in that much deeper that makes an electric bolt of pleasure surge through you.

It feels impossible when the pleasure starts coiling tight in your core again, making you pulse around him as you start reaching your third peak. You feel the tears well up in your eyes at the pleasure and stimulation, sobbing out your next cry when he reaches down and glides his thumb against your tip. You reach down yourself, ready to work yourself to orgasm but he smacks your hand away.

“No, please,” you whimper out, “I’m so close—”

“Beg me for it,” he growls, his voice dropping an octave with it and you can’t help the hitch in your breath, the keen it drags out of you. He slows down his thrusts until he doesn’t move at all, spearing you on his cock with no motion, no relief, and you feel like you might cry if he doesn’t start moving.

“Please,” you plea, and he had you pegged right, of course, as you add, “Please sir, can I cum?”

He grabs your wrist and pins it to the bed, his eyes like fire on yours.

“No touching yourself,” he commands it of you, “Cum on my cock like a good whore.”

That makes you whine, shaking your head and he changes his grip from your wrist to your jaw, shaking you hard once before his fingers dig in to bone. The pain joined by the overwhelming fullness makes you gasp.

“You cum because I let you,” he growls out, rough like rolling coals. “You’re my toy. Mine.”

The shiver of heat that bleeds through you makes you pulse around him, arching up for him without your consent at the fantasy George has put in your head, the control he has over your body right now. That vicious grin returns and it only makes you throb more when he sits back and drags his hand down to your throat, bearing down with his thumb to your rapid pulse, pressing in and in until the first spots start to form. You gasp with it, or at least try, arching up further for him as you scramble to hold onto his hand. You know you should be scared, you don’t know him, but you don’t pull him away. Instead you just grip his flexing wrist, legs still tight around him and revel in George’s whispered, “That’s it.”

He starts fucking you again with his hand around your throat, picking up a steadily increasing pace until he’s pounding into you, using his grip on your throat to hold you down. He’s good at this, he’s done it before you deliriously realize, because every time your eyes start to roll he releases his grip just a little, just enough to gasp before it’s back and your whole body is awash in the dizzying high thrumming through your body, the burn in your pounding heart, making you focus solely on the pressure of his dick filling you up and hammering of your frantic pulse.

“Say it,” he hisses, your body jarring every time his hips snap against yours, pushing you closer and closer to your next peak. "Say you're mine."

“I’m yours,” you gasp out without hesitation, small and you try again, “I’m yours!”

He lets go of your throat and the rush of oxygen combined by a brutal thrust of his hips, lost in that fantasy of being at his mercy, makes you cum so hard you can’t even get the breath to scream, back arched taught as a bow as your knees squeeze around him tight.  It wracks through your sex and wracks through your body, blacking out your vision and slicking you so wet you can hear it where he keeps fucking you through your orgasm. You all but collapse after, shivering and twitching as he pistons inside you, unrelenting with his pace no closer to his own orgasm. He shifts his hold to gripping your hips, pulling you like a ragdoll to all but splay across his lap, your thighs falling loose around him.

You don’t have to do any work holding yourself up anymore; you’ve all but gone boneless after that last orgasm, ankles hooked numbly around the backs of his thighs but he holds you easily, one strong hand pressed firm to your lower back, the other clamped tight on your hip to keep driving you back into his merciless thrusts. It feels so good you’ve got tears running constant down your cheeks, your hole spasming with little half-pulses to orgasm each time he rolls his hips and presses in that extra little bit deeper. You reach down to try to hold your legs open anyway, wanting him to keep pressing deep, needing him to cum, too.

“That’s it, that’s a good slut.” He purrs, reaching up to run his thumb over your mouth that you readily take between your lips to suck. His breath catches for a moment, a crack in that careful control as his breathing deepens, biting the corner of his lip as he watches you pleasure the digit. Fuck, you want to taste him. You’re mad you didn’t take George’s cock in your mouth before this; maybe, maybe he’ll let you?

You reach up to pull his thumb out so you can ask, the words strangled you’re your overstimulation, “Please cum in my mouth?”

He stares at you like you didn’t speak English at first, but then he pulls up another savage grin, exactly what you expected as a reply, and for a second, you almost think you’ve gotten in too deep.

“One more,” he supplies, and you sob a little at that, shaking your head.

“I can’t.”

“Tapping out?” He croons, taunting.

You nod for him, your voice wet with your reply, “Please, it’s too much.”

“Too bad. Touch yourself.”

You whimper at that, but nod again, dropping a hand down to your overworked sex. You rub your palm lightly against yourself through the motion of his thrusts, the first time you’ve been able to touch and you hitch out another wrecked moan at the sensation. The light touch is more than enough to get you twitching again, clenching tight around him with that shiver of heat that starts growing back inside you.

As much as he clearly enjoys playing with you, he can’t hide his own want, nor how close he is, too. The moment you clench his breath hitches, nails digging in where he holds up your hips. His breathing grows more ragged as he fucks into you just a little less steady control, thrusting in harder and deeper, like he’s trying to drive himself up to your throat. It mesmerizes you in a second, the way he starts losing his composure, watching the space where his cock disappears into your body, his breath catching each time you squeeze down on him.

You have to wonder if you’ve gotten addicted to this in such a short time—short time? You have no idea how long, actually, it could have been twenty minutes, it could be hours—because your body surges back with heat and ache, clamping down around his thick cock, eager and hungry for one more. It makes him groan, loud and sudden like he wasn’t expecting it and he grips your jaw, prying it open to shove his fingers inside. He fucks your mouth with those two fingers, pressing on your tongue before letting you work your mouth around them, whimpering because it’s not enough, and you’ve never craved being filled with such rawness before, the need to have something in your hole and your mouth all at once. Maybe it’s not addiction to this, but addiction to him.

He’s locked on your face, watching you lick and suck the offered digits in your mouth, his eyes blown out wide with his pleasure, his breathing finally ragged, panting opened mouth as he draws closer to his own climax. He suddenly speeds up pace, his head ducking down and gritting his teeth with it, swallowing back another desperate sound. It’s such a sight you almost forget you’re close too, and with the digits in your mouth your moan is loud and jarring when you cum, twitching up to meet his thrusts as you ride out the slow, almost painful waves of your orgasm.

You’re still pulsing when he hisses and pulls out, and in a second he’s straddling your chest, arms pinned beneath you and you don’t care, you eagerly open your mouth for him, waiting with wide, wet eyes on him. He looks gorgeous like this too, towering above you, flushed chest heaving, brow drawn up tense by his pleasure it’s almost not fair. He tangles a hand in your hair and pins you in place, your neck arched back, mouth opening wide for him and he groans at the sight, a sharp, abrupt sound like he didn’t expect to make this one, either.

George pushes the thick length of himself forward in his fist, blunt head coated with your slick and his precum smearing over your lip and before you take that offered tip between your lips, happily accepting him feeding you his cock. Your lips have to stretch wide around him, the fullness of it makes you moan and you close your eyes on his next stilted grunt, scalp burning when he tugs hard. He’s close, groaning now with each soft, erratic pant as he fucks into his fist and your mouth, until his hips jerk forward and he twitches between your lips, spurting ropes of his thick cum against your waiting tongue with a harsh, stifled sound that’s unbearably close to a cry.

It’s an overwhelming taste, not bad or good, but you love it regardless; it’s so much that even though you try to obediently swallow it drips down your neck, though he doesn’t give you chance to be good and clean yourself up. He climbs off of you and kisses you, shoving his tongue in deep to gather up your joined tastes, eagerly seeking it out on your own tongue like it’s the only thing he wants. A painful pulse runs through you, abused body apparently uncaring and ready to go one more time. You kiss for so long the taste fades away, and the fierceness of it fades away to exhausted, lazy glides of each other’s lips, barely having the strength to cup his neck and hold on.

Even with the aftershocks fading you’re still trembling too much to move, but after a few slurred directions George finds the bathroom, returns with a washcloth that he uses to wipe you down. He lingers on your crotch, thumb rubbing your slick against your lips and overstimulated tip until you jerk and whine, “Please, don’t.”

He likes that, apparently, if his cruel little smile and sharp pinch on your thigh that has you yelping was anything to go by.

He sits cross-legged on the bed with you then, more awake than he had any right to be with you so wrecked you can barely keep your eyes open. He runs his fingers through your hair, that smile still there, and murmurs, “Ah, shit. Don’t think I’m gonna be able to let you go, sweetheart.”

You fall asleep, and when you wake the next morning, you’re not surprised to find him gone. You’re disappointed he leaves no number, angry at yourself for not giving yours before.

You can’t use your thighs properly for days. Every time you stand or sit it rockets bone deep ache through you and every wince has your cruel, sadistic friends giving you knowing grins. You regret absolutely none of it.

After a few months George becomes a too-fond memory, fodder for vivid fantasies fueled by memory instead of imagination for the lonely nights. Eventually, you don’t think about ever finding him again, wrapped up in the bittersweet knowledge of the best sex you ever had in your life meant that no one would ever compare again.

You’re at work when you hear the news. The Boston Reaper, aka George Foyet, was taken into custody and escaped. Of course you look up to the TV with the horrifying news that he’s out, the man that made everyone afraid to walk home alone at night, afraid to drive, afraid to be together because he always took in two, until that bus.

Whatever was in your hands, it drops. Your jaw drops, too. With his face filling the screen, the name Reaper split across his profile like a laceration, the only tangible thought that isn’t swarming static or straight up internal screaming is the surprise he gave you his real name.

Once the reality settles in on what would go down in history as the worst walk of shame in your short life, you feel your pulse in your throat. Your heart hammers the rest of the day, hand shaking around your pen, unable to say anything to anyone before turning in to go home.

You have no reason to believe he’d be there. You hadn’t seen him in months, and while he knows where you live, you can’t imagine he would come back. He could have killed you, he didn’t, and he hadn’t reached out since.

You think back on the last thing he said to you, and you keep your keys in your hand, finger hovering on emergency call on your phone in your pocket as you walk through your door.

It still surprises you when you see him standing there. It surprises you worse when seeing him, in borrowed clothes and dark eyes on you, pink staining his lips and that feral grin growing across his smile-lined cheeks, makes heat start to build between your legs.

You’ve made a lot of questionable decisions in your life. Those were suddenly outshined. You toss your keys and your phone to the side.

#criminal minds #george foyet #george foyet x reader #come stab me daddy #my writing #I will face god and walk backwards into hell #I've never actually posted a reader fic before please be gentle

[danteinthedevildom]

Okay that is VERY 😬

What is it about Twitter that make people go “yes I’m gonna be best friends with this person that barely knows I exist”

There's apparently a legit psychological thing where like. Bc we see so much of an influencer's life and personality on social media (esp. places like Twitter) fans can accidentally make a one-sided connection to the influencer.

So for instance, if an influencer talks abt all the stuff they did that day on their Twitter, you as a fan are getting a peek into their life, right? And sometimes it feels like when the influencer talks to the camera, they're talking directly to YOU. Not just the general audience.

And you're getting innundated with this stuff each day bc you follow them. So you see more and more of this person, their life, and who they are. And esp. with influencers, engagement is a BIG part of keeping fans following them - so sometimes posts are directed TO fans (e.g. the "Tell Me You Love Me" Tweet), and sometimes influencers talk abt how much their fans mean to them personally.

So it can become easy to forget, sometimes, that this is a hella one-way road. You might see a lot of them, but they see NOTHING of you. They have no idea who you are beyond the general concept of you being "a fan". And even if you're responding to their Tweets, which feels very personal to you, your message is just one in a few hundred to them.

In general, too, friendships are made bc you see someone frequently enough that you form a bond with them. You don't really see someone more frequently than you do on social media, where they're constantly posting.

So when you combine all of that together, some fans legit think they're MUCH closer to the influencer than they actually are bc psychologically all the foundations are there to suggest some form of close friendship.

I think also there's like this feeling that bc it's social media you're completely anonymous. It doesn't matter what you say bc you're safe behind the screen and an account that in no way shows who you are. Esp. with the rlly creepy account that posted the sexual stuff abt Miura; they had NOTHING to link back to who they are IRL, so it was "safe" for them to say that stuff even if they maybe wouldn't say it to his face.

(Ppl prolly also just... forget that influencers are real people. It's so easy to put them on pedestals and to think of them as Better or Higher, and then just totally dismiss that they have the same feelings and sensibilities as literally anyone else. Just bc you can't see that they're uncomfortable doesn't mean they aren't.)

Why it happens most on Twitter, tho, is I think bc that's where the influencers are. Tumblr can be bad, yeah, like don't get me wrong - it rlly CAN be. We still have fan accounts for kpop groups and ppl still melt over Dan and Phil. But there's very few actual famous USERS on Tumblr; we can't engage with them in the same way, and 9 times out of 10 they barely even know they have that following here. It's more of a fandom forum, less an influencer playground - and def. not a form of social media most influencers took seriously until semi-recently (and even that's iffy).

Twitter, meanwhile, is a social media site geared TOWARDS influencers. It's meant to be a space for them to engage with fans, post updates, and talk. This is where you find the creators; this is where they tell you abt their lives and show you what they're working on. If you want to be seen, you go there. So ofc that's where fans flock towards if they want to be seen by their favourite influencers.

The greater influencer presence means it's a lot easier to connect on places like Twitter than anywhere else. And when the site itself is meant to breed that connected mentality - meant to facilitate connections between influencer and fans... it can end up creating a problem.

(Ironically, Tumblr does still have a similar issue, just kinda parallel; ppl here treat actors the same way they treat the characters they play. So we got a HUGE Real Person Fiction community here bc we're so distant from the influencers themselves that they seem unreal.)

As a sorta tangential point: it's a lot harder to post fandom content on Twitter - in part bc it's fuckin hard to find and in part bc you'd need to split some of my posts up into like 20 billion Tweets - so it's v. different in its fandom culture than Tumblr is. Hence, predominant Tumblr users, being more geared towards creating fandom content, act a little differently towards influencers than Twitter users, being more geared towards influencer interaction.

It's something we gotta be vigillant on as fans on Twitter, tbh. Like. We are talking directly TO the person. We are treating them that way in a space that is THEIRS and that they will PHYSICALLY SEE. We have got to be inherently more respectful and careful with how we're acting.

Esp. with a fandom as small as Obey Me!. Yes, it's much bigger than other Shall We Date? games, but the VAs are still relatively small-time, personal people who are shocked by the exponential growth they've experienced during Obey Me!'s two year run. A lot of them didn't even have Twitter accounts before this point (at least, not ones they regularly used), and I believe most of them haven't engaged with overseas fans before.

They will see a lot of what is being posted. So trying to keep it as kind, warm, and respectful as possible - and making sure anyone overstepping that line knows they've done so - is imperative. Esp. with the mentality Twitter naturally breeds in relation to fans and their influencers.

#danteintherambles #Kinda long oop. I went off on one srry folks

[dayseternal-blog]

i think im running out of naruhina fluff/smut. T-T. Can you help me out? hihi

 🔍

you think you can hide behind anonymous 🧐  I’m quite certain I know who this is haha 😘

And for you, dearest anon, have three completely unfinished, barely started wips (EVIL CACKLES BECAUSE THESE GO NOWHERE)

But actually, if any of these one-shot ideas catch your interest, please let me know and maybe I’ll actually try to finish one of them?

Smutty Soulmate AU, where you meet your soulmate in your dreams each night upon turning 20.

When her alarm jars her from sleep, she’s always only left with a feeling and flashes of color.  Today...she desperately tries to focus, to reach back, to remember…

Excitement.  Red.  Dark.

Her heart beats faster for reasons unknown to her, and there’s no point in trying any harder to slide the experiences of the soul into her brain.  After pointless meditation sessions, longer naps, and all manners of effort with dream diaries and online tips, she’s been resigned to the fact that only her other half can unlock that translation of dreams to memories.  She has yet to meet her soulmate in person.

Ever since her 20th birthday a few months ago, since that nerve wracking night of meeting her soulmate for the first time, going out has been a secret manhunt.  Eyes peeled to every single passersby over the age of 20.  Any one of them could be the person she’s spent the last 200 or so nights with.

So she dresses carefully for a day out with Sakura, Tenten, and Ino.  They’ll be going to the restaurant where Sakura’s fiance works his part-time job.  For all she knows, her soulmate might be there, too.

A guy?  A girl?  Her age?  Much older?  She has no idea what she’ll say to her soulmate, either.  But she imagines that when she sees them, it’ll be like a homecoming.  Planning is unnecessary, right?  When it’s someone you actually see every night?  If they didn’t like her, she can’t imagine why she would wake up every morning with so much residual happiness and longing.

-------------------------------------THAT’S IT @bunny-hoodlum

Ghost-Hunting (Obake Hunt) Comedy Modern AU, Naruto & co. visit a college at night for some scares that take an unexpected turn...

A shadowed driveway leads up the mountain toward the private college.

“Is this it?” Sasuke asks, peering out the car window.

“Yeah, turn here,” Ino instructs.  

“Okay, but why is the place even open at this time of night,” Sakura states, arms crossed with a skeptical expression as Sasuke drives the minivan through the gates, up the grand driveway.  The dorms for the college were built at a separate location down the main thoroughfare.

Ino shrugs.  “They have all kinds of events that go on at night.  I don’t know.”

“At least we know we’re not trespassing if the school’s open.”  Hinata’s soft voice comes over the back seat.  

“I still can’t believe we actually talked you into coming with us!” Ino teases.

Sakura laughs, “We’re having a bad influence on her!”

Hinata shakes her head.  “Actually, I’m amazed that Naruto-kun is here,” she shyly replies.

Sasuke lets out a quiet laugh.  “Doesn’t mean he won’t shit himself if we find a ghost.” 

“Okay!, no!, I won’t shit myself, alright?” he immediately defends.  “...I might just scream a little, but I won’t poop my pants…”  He’s already in a protective stance, arms crossed, back hunched a little.  

Everyone laughs at him, but Hinata takes his hand, smiling half-amusedly, half to comfort him.  “I’ll protect you, Naruto-kun.”

That only makes everyone laugh harder as Naruto sinks into himself in embarrassment.

Despite Ino’s school being open, the parking lot is somewhat empty save for a few cars.  The buildings are magnificent in design, echoing back to an era when arched entryways and stucco were favored over walls of glass.  The hum of cicadas pierce through the still, late summer air.  

The small group of friends silently follow Ino back toward the driveway of the school with only yellowed street lamps lighting the dark sidewalks.  They cross into the street, stopping right in the middle at the fancy traffic meridian.  It’s an odd decorative aspect of the driveway they passed on the way up.  It’s right in the middle of the street, separating the in and out lanes, somewhat built-up and rounded with a grassy patch and flowering bushes planted high on top.  It really only serves to make the school look expensive.

Ino smiles, then whispers, “Put your hand here on the wall.”

“Why?” Sakura asks, also in a whisper.  

“Just feel it.”  

They do, all of them placing their hands on the wall, waiting for something to happen.

“You see how the plaster is kind of rough over there?” she asks.

They nod, their fingers dragging over the rushed job.

“...This is an ancient burial ground,” Ino explains in a hushed tone.

Their hands spring off of the wall, their fingers wide in stress at what they were just touching.

“Ino, what the fuck?!” Naruto hisses, barely containing his volume, his legs already carrying him away from the meridian and onto the side of the street. 

Sakura stares at her hand wide-eyed.  “Oh my gosh, we’re all cursed,” she laments.  She can practically feel the spiritual energy twisting around her fingers. 

Ino snickers.  “That’s what my course major senpais did to me.”

Sasuke and Hinata are silently trailing after Naruto with abject horror on their faces.  Hinata fists her hand uncomfortably against her skirt.  

Once they’re all gathered safely away from the meridian, Ino continues to explain.  “When they were constructing, they found the remains of the ancient natives.”

“So they just built that random thing in the middle of the street to house the bones and then continued on their merry way?” Naruto asks for clarification.

Ino nods.  “After they found them, they built that wall around the burial ground, and apparently they were in a hurry to cover it back up.  They just made the driveway go around it.”

They stand there, staring at the burial ground, picturing the bones just on the other side of the wall they touched, below the grass and bushes.  

“Did you have to make us touch it, though,” Hinata asks, regretfully, with a really sad frown.

“The spirits of the ancient warriors are going to find me and kill me in the dead of the night,” Naruto states, as if it’s already fact.

Ino brushes his paranoia off.  “We’ll, I’m still here, aren’t I?”  

“Note to all of us--don’t do anything Ino tells us to do,” Sasuke says.

Ino gives him a very evil smile.  “That’s not all there is to this place.”

“Why...why am I doing this…” Naruto asks to no one in particular.

She leads them deeper into the center of the school, where a large tree spreads its thick limbs over a beautiful cobbled courtyard.  A simple fountain beneath the tree spouts water, and pennies shine beneath the surface of the circular pool.  The gurgle of the water as it falls is relaxing, serene in the quiet of the night.

“Wow, this is nice,” Sakura says, looking around at the manicured gardens surrounding the courtyard.  

Ino nods.  “A girl hung herself here.”

They turn their attention to the blonde.  Suddenly, the peace of the courtyard feels like an ill omen.

She tilts her head at the large tree.  “They say that when this used to be a mental hospital, a girl got away from her caretakers.  She was found hanging from this tree.”  

They frown at the branches, wondering which one the girl chose.

Ino gestures to steps that lead to an academic building.  “They said that at night, you could see her ghost walking and talking to herself in the corridors, always bringing herself to this tree.  Someone suggested to the school that they build this fountain here to give rest to her spirit.”

“So no one sees her ghost anymore?” Sakura asks. 

Ino shrugs.  “I guess we’ll find out…”

“What?”  Naruto scrunches a face of distaste.

“Let’s go,” Ino invites.  

“Go where…” he whines quietly.

Ino takes the disturbed group down the steps to the building.  “Hm, I wonder if it’s open…”  She pulls the handle.

The door opens.

“Whyyyy is it open…” Naruto groans.

“But actually, though, why,” Sakura states.

“Maybe the teachers are still here?” Hinata suggests.

Ino laughs.  “Psh, what college professor cares that much about their job?”  She holds the door open, inviting them into the building.  “Welcome to the language arts hall.”  

The corridor lights are all on, assuring them that the building is, indeed, open.

They enter the hallway.  Naruto lags behind.  When the door shuts, he opens it again.  “I’m just making sure…”  He tests the handle a couple more times before closing it.  Then he tests it once more for good measure.

“You satisfied?” Sasuke asks.

“I’m just making sure,” he repeats.  

Hinata frowns, imagining the door locking them in while they’re inside the building.  

Naruto’s paranoia is only making things worse.

Ino starts ahead of them, and Naruto has to rush to catch up.  “Wait for me!”

“SHHHH!!” Sakura scolds, finger to her lips.

They stand there, noticing how her shush seems to echo in the hallway.

“This place is really creepy,” Hinata comments quietly.

Ino shrugs.  “Only at night.  I had classes in this building in my first year.” 

“So this place used to be part of the mental hospital?” Sasuke asks.  

“Yeah,” Ino affirms.  She brings them to a classroom.  “You see how there’s this little window that you can use to look inside?”  

They nod, taking turns peeking into one of the dark classrooms.  It’s a normal room with normal desks.

“All of the rooms have this hallway window, you see?  It was so that the nurses could check on the patients.”

“Oh gods,” Naruto mutters.

-------------------------------------THAT’S IT

College Ballet AU, Naruto sees a different side of his quietly reserved friend.

It wasn’t a trick. 

Winter had dragged its sharp claws across the ground as long as it could, but finally, finally, three seasonal false-starts and numerous wilted, early-blooming daffodils later, 

Spring had finally decided to stay for good.

Trees bloomed pastel pinks instead of icy white.  New hopefuls popped out of the wet dirt, ready to face the sun.  Birds were suddenly a real thing again.  

Students strolled across the college campus in shorts and light sweaters, eager to shed the winter coats they had worn for six straight months.

And most importantly…

“The forecast is in the high 50s all week!” Ino announced as she pranced into the room, swinging her dance bag to the floor.

“Oh!!  Remember last spring we had class outside?” Sakura asked, turning her attention to their ballet instructor.

“Can we have class outside, Kurenai?” Ino pleaded, eyes wide in hope.

“Hm, the weather is nice today.  I suppose it is a shame to stay indoors on an afternoon like this,” she considered aloud.

Hinata listened with alarm.  She had never danced outside before, never in her 14 years of dancing.  Yes, she had danced on stage before, had performed in front of many strangers before, but still...  Everyone will see us, she worried.  

“I didn’t bring my speakers today, though,” Kurenai continued.

Before Hinata could feel any relief, Tenten pulled out her tech from her bag.  “You can bluetooth your phone to mine!”  

“Awesome, Tenten!” Sakura exclaimed.

“Oh, please, Kurenai?  Can we have class outside?” the other girls begged.

Hinata already knew her fate.  She was going to have to wear her body-conforming leotard and tights in front of the entire student body.  Nevermind the fact that the last time she had gone barefoot on grass was in elementary school.

They all picked up their belongings and made the quick trip to the center lawn.

As she predicted, many students who were already finished with their classes for the day were enjoying the afternoon weather, laying out in the grass reading or playing frisbee.  

And here they were, in their leotards and tights, about to have their whole ballet practice for all to see.  

“There’s so many people,” she whispered in embarrassment to Sakura.  

The pinkette looked at Hinata in confusion, then sympathy.  “Don’t worry.  Just relax and enjoy the sunshine!  It’s a lot of fun to dance outside.  It feels like…”  Sakura glanced up in thought.  “...Like freedom.  Or like...nature!”

Hinata took a deep breath and nodded.  She slipped off her sandals and lined up with everyone to begin their barre exercises...without a barre.  She spread her toes open to first position and settled her arms and hands into en bas.  

Already she could see curious onlookers watching them, and she could only thank the god above that they were having class in a corner of the field, and not front and center.  

Kurenai glanced over her dancers, noting their prepared positions.  She rattled off the instructions for their plie routine before setting up the speaker and scrolling through her phone’s music menu.

Familiar piano music rose into the air.  

More students glanced around.

Hinata tried not to think that all of their eyes were on her.  Because she knew, logically, that they weren’t all watching only her, but her heart just hadn’t been prepared for this sudden public display.

Eventually, with the right side completed and the combination repeated on the left side, Hinata began to feel less tense.

The students lazing on the lawn returned to their own devices, and only passersby watched as they headed to their destinations.  

She fell into the muscle memory of the exercises, and her focus turned inward on the flow of her arms with the music, of the dart of her toes with the beat, and the alignment of her body.  

It was like Sakura said.  There was a certain freedom she had never felt before in dancing barefoot in the grass under the Spring sun, turning, leaping, and reaching into the fresh air.  

#anon #wips #naruhina fanfiction #witness how quickly i lose interest

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Pirate AU Masterpost

Different ships captained and crewed by different hermits, maybe some could be normal sailors too? Or maybe even some could be sirens? There could be a pirate ship, a pirate hunting ship/law-keeping ship, some random shipping vessels, some sirens or sea monsters, or whatever else! I envision Doc as a pirate captain and Xisuma as the law enforcement captain, but it's open to whatever changes! (@-shadeswiftdraws.)

Headcanons to start us off:

-Bdubs is a fruity sailor.

-Cub and Scar sell things to both pirates and the law enforcement. They only take the aide of profit.

-DocM threatened Bdubs into joining him. Whether it worked is up to the 'what gets popular' Gods. If not, he probably just holds Bdubs hostage or something.

-Hypnotizd's bandana has a skull and crossbones on it, as does Etho's headband.

-False is feared by Doc.

-Grian has a parrot that always sits on his shoulder. Doc keeps telling him to get rid of it but Grian refuses.

-Iskall wears an eyepatch.

-Hypnotizd has scurvy.

-iJevin makes maps and sells em to pirates to keep them off his back. Did he bury the treasure? I dunno.

-All of ZIT collectively own a boat. They like to pretend its a yacht and have fun. Sometimes they just use it to relax, sometimes they just go fishing. Sometimes they scare each other with stories of pirates and massive storms.

-Joe Hills is scared of the water because he nearly drowned as a child. But when he ends up accidentally stowing away on the ZIT boat, his worst fears happen.

-Keralis is Xisuma's second in command.

-TFC is a retired sailor that knows too much.

-VintageBeef and basically all of the NHO are with Doc.

-XbCrafted grew up by the beach and likes to collect shells. One time he found a fossil of a dinosaur. What will he do? I don't know. His childhood friend, Hypnotizd, left to be a pirate. Xb hasn't heard from him since (he promised he'd write letters,) and fears the worst.

-ZombieCleo is a dead zombie captain. Her and her crew (the gals, and maybe some co,) are out to get their revenge on Doc. Her second in command is Stress but her main muscle in False.

-Mumbo is usually the one who works maintenance on the ship. (He's with Xisuma.)

-Rendog got stuck on an island he's called 'Loser Island' and has been there for at least a year. He's found by Doc.

-Stressmonster makes people fear her through her name, but they usually laugh when they see her because she's really unintimidating.

-Welsknight hoardes cool swords.

-Everyone underestimates Stress when they see her but those who have faced her in battle have realized their mistake. She is slowly but surely gaining the reputation as one of the most feared pirates of the seven seas. She’s still very sweet if you get to know her tho - 🌙

-At some point while attempting to leave the ZIT crew's yacht, Joe somehow ends up with Cleo and the gals in the middle of the ocean, who take pity on him. Because they help him with his fear and take care of him on the way back to land, he decides to stick with them for good. The Navy and a lot of other pirates don't believe that Cleo can be the captain of such a feared vessel or that False can be that deadly and decide that Joe must be doing it all. He takes joy in deferring to Cleo whenever he can, and the whole crew gets a laugh out of his combat attempts. He mainly handles navigation and stuff, though he does record their adventures and anonymously submit them to newspapers and/or publish his accounts. (Don't want to skip the Joe+ZIT stuff, just love him and Cleo and need that dynamic :-) )

-Half siren/merman grian? - Frost Anon

-Different anon adding to the Merman Wels idea, he's a siren but instead of stealing your life he steals your swords and shinies. Some pirates may be on good terms with him and gives him swords occasionally and ask for directions or just hang out with him and be nice (I'd think Ren would sing with him and Jevin would hang out and steal shinies with him landing both their crews on good terms with him. He may even follow them around as it can be lonely in the ocean)

-Mumbo never meant to be a pirate. There was just a mutiny of the last captain he was under and everyone liked him enough to keep him around.

-Some loser thinks that joe is the muscle of the group and asks for a duel. cleo decides fuck it and just pushes joe into a fight with them because thats how she be sometimes. (False is on standby so joe doesn't get creamed)

-https://hermitcraftheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/619926302710956032/another-take-on-the-pirate-au-concept

- At some point, Cleo's ship begins picking up stray orphaned children. They are kept safe below deck during battle and are taught by the crew how to run a ship and fight, but Cleo also teaches them stuff like how to read and do math. The crew is very protective of the young'uns and the ship eventually becomes known for the fact that they take care of kids. Most other ships, upon learning this, respect that and don't attack them. If a ship does, they will find that the Rotten Corpse is viscous, and has many powerful friends who will back them up. If Doc or X come across Cleo's ship, they will give the kids gifts and stay close for a bit to provide protection. As the kids grow up some go back to shore and build legitimate/legal lives (including opening an orphanage) but a group of them go off and become their own pirate crew! Their ship's name? I don't know, I'm not clever.

-In a tavern someone's just like "im gonna sail to this island." Tfc, sitting nearby "you wont find anything" a little while later that ship goes missing. No one actually knows what tfc found in his sailing days. But my god does he know where to avoid

(All above in red are from our community's lovely Anons!)

-The ZIT boat is a bit of a disaster because each person always thinks it's the other people's turn to maintain it. Joe probably saw it on an evening beach walk and thought it was abandoned, decided to explore it, and accidentally fell asleep in the hold. He wakes up to the ZIT boys arguing about what to do with him.

-Xisuma has a reputation for being strict and disciplined and running a very tight ship, but if you're actually on his crew you'll know that's a front for intimidation purposes. In reality he is organised but extremely forgiving, and he will often sit down with crew who are new or going through something stressful and talk it out with them.

-Iskall is with Cleo's crew, he appears just as driven as the rest of them but he's mostly just there to make sure Cleo and co don't go too overboard with the revenge thing. He just doesn't want them to do something they'll regret....

-Wels can be a merman! He hoards cool swords as souvenirs of the surface world and dreams of two-legged adventurers and explorers.

-The "incident" that put Cleo on the path of undead revenge was partially accidental. Doc's goal was to raid the ship and get away with no casualties, but things escalated way too quickly. He is haunted by what happened, but Cleo doesn't know that and is determined to hunt him and his crew down.

-Pirate singalong nights! Doc's ship definitely has a singalong under the stars every night, where everyone can gather together and relax and let loose. It's fun to think about who would be good at it, and who would be bad at it but sing anyway ☺️

-Grian starts off on Doc's ship (with his parrot), but he gets washed overboard in a storm. Siren!Wels rescues him and gives him siren magic.

-I got tired of referring to "Xisuma's ship" and "Doc's ship", so: X's ship is called the Voidrunner, and Doc's vessel is the Black Goat. (Cleo's is The Rotting Corpse -Anon.)

-(I did a submission mentioning ConPost earlier, so look at that for context) The ConPost boys don't sail, but they're very knowledgable about sailing supplies and even ship repair. Cub does bookkeeping and negotiates big deals. Scar likes to wander the docks checking stock levels, with Jellie napping in piles of rope or following close behind.

-https://hermitcraftheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/619819577428279296/for-the-pirate-au-cub-and-scar-own-a-supply

-Xisuma is feared and respected by pirates because his ship is one of the first/only steam powered vessels at the time. Mumbo is his engineer; he maintains the mechanics and is constantly testing ways to make the ship faster and more efficient.

-If you ask Iskall why he wears an eye patch, you will get a wild tale of adventure and heroic battle that may take an hour to relate. However, the story is different every time. He actually lost his eye in a completely non-pirate related accident as a child. It just sounds cooler the way he tells it 😂

- About Joe moving from the ZIT crew to Cleo's ship: Joe really wants to be taken back to shore, and the ZIT lads understand his fear of water and try to take him back as soon as possible. However, they get caught in a storm, and the boat isn't in great shape to weather it. The boat is not quite wrecked, but badly damaged, and Joe is washed overboard. Cleo's crew finds him and pulls him aboard to save him (maybe siren!Wels helped bring him to her!)

-As a pirate Etho is known for his skill in boarding enemy ships. It doesn't matter how many ropes you cut, how many pirate grappling hooks you throw into the sea in an effort to keep them from your decks. Even if there's no possible way across, Etho will just sort of.. . End Up on your ship, and you will end up in Davy Jones' locker. (Based on the creepy teleport thing with Grian, and just Etho's general cryptid-ness)

-The sea spray and the general ocean humidity is horrible for Doc's arm. Ren helps him keep it as clean and rust-proof as possible, but it still probably squeaks a lot and stiffens up sometimes.

(-@shadeswiftdraws.)

-ZombieCleo's gal (& co.) crew includes Iskall. [More info pending for when I finally get around to watching s6 and see the infamous Iskall & Stress duo in action] (-@basaltdragon.)

-Inspired by shade: Cub is an ex-sailor, and Scar grew up in a family of fishers. Cub was really good at ship maintainence (he just got sick of the politics), and Scar loved keeping stock of the fishing nets and what sort of fish were caught, how much they might sell for, though he's not as good at repairs.

-For the Pirate AU, Mumbo telling Siren/MerGrian stories of the surface world and (secretly?) making a way for Grian to see it for himself. (-@shiniestumbreon.)

-Pirate au: one day there is a really bad storm that destroys all of the hermits boats except for one of them. So now all the hermits are all on one boat that’s really far away from land. (Angst part) some of them went over board (I’m thinking the captains maybe) so the remaining hermits are either grieving them or looking desperately hoping that their crew mates are still alive and clinging to wreckage. Who they find, if they do find any of them is up to the reader for now. (-@lookitsspacekween.)

- Mumbo, being the spoon he is always forgets where he buries his treasure. (-@xxpzmistxx.)

-Mumbo, as the Voidrunner's engineer, has so much to work on that Xisuma will sometimes take over the maintenance so poor Mumbo can get some sleep. This leads to the hunt for a secondary engineer and maybe that's how Mumbo and Iskal end up meeting. (-@my-cat-is-a-bastard.)

-A cat scratched out Iskall's eye as a kid, and he's too embarrassed to tell anyone. He's still a bit afraid of cats, so you'll always see him keeping a close eye on Jellie when he's at the dock. (-@12u3ie.)

- i dont really know much about pirates but ima try!! ok so, cleo is human, but she gets the nickname "zombie cleo" because she faked her own death. people thought she drowned, and her old crew along with her. most of them went to live normal lives under different names, but cleo missed the sea and eventually returned to being a pirate, eventually becoming the capitain of a new ship. (i hope this makes sense lol) (-@bakubakunyanyaa.)

-Pirate headcanons! As someone said before Ren and Wels are friends and like to sign together. I can imagine Wels telling the Black Goat that there is a treasure burried in Loser Island to get Ren rescued. Also! People think Ren is halve siren/has siren magic as he is really good at singing and the melodies he hums are similar to the ones sirens are said to sing, turns out just a bit of siren magic and Wels singing style rubbed on Ren during all the time they spent together singing.

-More pirate hc cause i have no self control and they are not a lot of them: Doc gives shiny stuff to Wels in exchange of him warning them when X’s crew is on a port. Iskall is also a great engineer and is working to make the Rotten Corpse Steam powered too. He insist Cleo to let him take a peek on the Voidrunner to see if he can copy Mumbo’s work, the gals agree this is the most dangerous idea Iskall has.

(-@ivi-prism.)

-Ship AU! Hypno originally joined the ship's crew with his friend, Jessassin. They became a swashbuckling duo, and still sometimes work together, despite Jessassin's inactivity from pirate duties. (-@calmshejaguar.)

#hcraft #hermitcraftheadcanons #pirateau #auheadcanon #posted 31.05.20 #bdouble0100 #cubfan135 #docm77 #ethoslab #falsesymmetry #grian #goodtimeswithscar #hypnotizd #impulsesv #ijevin #iskall85 #joehills #keralis #mumbojumbo #rendog #stressmonster #tinfoilchef #tangotek #vintagebeef #welsknight #xbcrafted #xisumavoid #zedaphplays #zombiecleo #nho

[crimsonbluemoon]

6, 3, 7 H2OVanoss! You know me heh ( •ॢᴗ•ॢ⋈)

Ahhh Owlbun! So I hope this fits the perimeters of a cute-meet cause I don’t know if it does but I think it does? Idk, its cute, please enjoy this mess of a story. >.> It’s a diff style than I normally do, but….hope it works out!

AU: Coffee shopTrope: Meet cutePrompt: “You had no idea, did you?”

Pairing: H2O Vanoss

If Evan was being honest, he hadn’t expected the chalkboard wall at his coffee shop to make much of a difference. The Owl Cafe was a staple in the community, and he had an okay group of regulars that liked to come in and check out his new blends on the daily. There were ones he knew by name, like the 6 year old girl Momo who loved Brian’s hot chocolate, or the late-night writer Kryoz who always seemed to appear when the place was deserted. Some regulars he didn’t catch names for, so he titled them as he saw fit; Runner man, vlogger teen, cute sweatshirt guy. All had their place in his cafe, which was steady in its sales. He wasn’t rolling in cash, but it was enough to pay Brock and Brian, so he felt that he was doing alright. 

The chalkboard had been something of a whim. A friend when he was younger had a wall in his bedroom with chalkboard paint that Evan had always enjoyed drawing on before bed. When he’d bought the cafe two years ago, he hadn’t really remembered the fun times he had scribbling across the bedroom wall. He was too focused on payments and attracting customers to stroll down memory lane. That had changed three months ago when bumping into Lui, the two speaking about their times as a child. The wall came up, of course, and Evan couldn’t let the memory go for days after. Lots of his customers had children, and college kids were always quick to bore when waiting for coffee. So one night, after a really good week at the shop, Evan went out and bought the paint in order to make his wall next to the waiting area a drawing board. 

The result was amazing; people loved coming by and adding their own doodles to the wall, filling it with different styles of art or funny sayings. There were always the punks who tried to draw dicks or write derogatory marks, but street justice tended to stop the crimes far quicker than Evan or his friends picked up on them. Evan enjoyed looking at the board at the end of the night, seeing what secrets it held from the customers he served. He tried to guess who drew what, or where each blurb of inspiration writing came from. Was the struggling mother of three the one who drew the calm beach? Did the preppy college girl express her darker thoughts in the corner of the board? Or was that old couple who shared a coffee really sweet enough to write their 70th anniversary with a heart around it? All of the pieces of the board was a collection of minds, hearts, and souls, and the nights didn’t feel complete for the shop owner without gazing at them in appreciation.  

His favorite part was the confessions; like an anonymous message board, people left words of secrecy every day. Evan felt it was a safe way for customers to express themselves without having to reveal their identity, and so far he hadn’t gotten any confessions that worried him. Brock always enjoyed reading the romantic ones where someone would claim their love for a friend, an ex, or a person they could never have. Brian’s favorites were the weird claims; he made Evan keep the ‘I like smelling feet’ confession up for three days. Evan couldn’t really say he had a type he sought out, because all of them were fun to read. If anything, he liked taking in the handwriting of the confessions, seeing whose were quaking with fear or more broad with confidence that only anonymity provided. 

It was nearly two months into owning the board that a message caught his eye; it didn’t have much color or outlandish design to it, so Evan wasn’t sure why it stuck out to him so much. But the writing just…looked different. Friendly. A little messy but with long enough strokes to show some care went into it. The words only took up a small part of the board. 

I come here every day because I think the owner is nice. And maybe cute? I wanted to ask for his name, but I’m too nervous.

Evan blinked in surprise, feeling his face heat up when he read it again. Someone…confessed about him? It was sort of risky, since this was his shop and he could have checked in on the board at any time, but it was also endearing. Someone was too shy to approach Evan, but felt strong enough about him to confess on his wall? He read the line two more times while he cleaned off every other drawing and confession, leaving the words in the middle of the board. Slowly, his eyes dropped down to the basket of chalk at the bottom of the wall, fingers twitching by his side. Despite having it for months, he’d never actually written on it. He left designing the morning greeting to Brock, as he was the artistic one of the three. But now…

He kept the confession where it was, drawing a little circle around it with the red chalk. Then, with block letters bright enough to catch any returning customer’s attention, he wrote out a simple reply. 

It’s Evan. Nice to meet you.

He didn’t think about the teasing Brian would rain on him, or how unlikely it was for him to get a response. The confessions were meant to be anonymous, not openers for conversation. So sure that his words would be left unanswered, Evan didn’t look once at the board the following day, trying to keep focused on making his customer’s happy. Any time he wasn’t working, he rushed into the back, trying to stay occupied so he didn’t stare at the wall. The day dragged on forever, but when the final customer was out the door, Evan nearly fell flat on his face vaulting over the counter to move to the board. 

“Desperate much, buddy?” Brian’s shout from across the shop went ignored when Evan scanned the wall, looking for any sign of a response. At first, the words around the response were disheartening; nothing connected to what he’d said. The drawings were still cute, and he wanted to read the confessions, but his heart slightly dropped at the sight. Had he scared off the anonymous messenger? He felt his frown start to capture his lips, but then his eye picked up on something. A blue circle had been wrapped around Evan’s words, and a line of chalk was drawn to the left of the board. Curious, his eyes tracked the line. Like thread in a maze, Evan was led to a familiar handwriting. 

Your name fits you! I’m…Jonathan. Is that okay? 

“Jonathan.” He rolled the name around in his mouth, his smile small when he finished. He knew instantly what his new secret penpal was asking, and he found the red chalk from before in order to scribble out his answer. 

That’s totally okay. I bet your name fits you, too, though I’m not sure who you are. Care to give me a hint? 

And for the next two weeks, the hints poured out. 

I like to wear blue a lot. Luke says it matches my eyes. But I think yours are prettier.

Evan counted seventy three customers with blue eyes who wore blue that day, but it did little to limit his search. 

I saw you drop that lady’s coffee on purpose. She deserved it for treating Brock like that. You’re a really good boss.

The incident had been in the morning around rush hour, which probably meant his penpal was at least his age. 

You only wear hats when you clean the mocha machine; it really looks good on you. 

Except this was something he did at night, so maybe he had different shifts throughout the week? 

Whenever little Momo comes in, you always give her the best smile. Sometimes I wish you’d smile at me like that.

Evan’s face hurt from how many smiles he gave out that day, but there had been nobody who hinted at knowing why he’d been grinning so much. 

You’re so beautiful. I really want to ask you on a date. 

Evan’s face flush red for the rest of the night. 

After the days of trying to piece together just who ‘Jonathan’ was, Evan was almost ready to throw in the towel. The little banter between them was fun, and peeks of Jonathan’s personality came out with doodles or smilies at the end of his sentences. He mentioned his friends, his dog, and if Evan closed his eyes, he could almost make out a voice to the words. Everything just felt so familiar about this guy, like he was already seated comfortably in Evan’s life. But he just couldn’t come up with a name, or anything to sink his teeth into. 

So, with a shot of courage (Brian may have supplied the alcohol) and nothing to lose, Evan wrote out one final message. 

Anything but coffee, and I’ll say yes.

Evan tried not to look at the board, just like the first day, hoping he wouldn’t scare away his crush by staring the wall down. Brock and Brian helped distract him, jokingly picking out old men and toddlers as ‘his secret admirer’ before laughing at the outlandish suggestions. Evan tried to smile and joke with them, but his shaking hands when giving out the orders always proved how nervous he was. Each time a customer came up to him, his back tensed, wondering if it’d be his penpal. But they never were, always asking for sugar or a bag for their half eaten muffin. 

When the last minutes of the day ticked away, and just a few regular souls lingered in the cafe, Evan finally broke. He left Brian and Brock behind the counter to walk up to the wall, hands shoved in the pockets of the apron to hide his twitching fingers. Slowly, his eyes scanned the board, trying to find the blue handwriting he’d grown to adore over the couple weeks he’d gotten to see it. But there was nothing; his crush hadn’t replied. 

“I scared him away.” Evan sighed and pressed his head to the chalkboard, eyes closing in defeat. His shoulders slumped down, unable to hide his disappointment. He’d just wanted to know who this guy was, because starting to fall for a chalkboard he technically owned was starting to feel a little creepy-

“Um.” An unsure voice made Evan bite back a groan, trying to keep his composure. Even if he was being ghosted by an anonymous customer, it didn’t mean he could ignore his other ones. Pulling back from the wall, Evan turned to catch sight of a familiar face. Cute sweatshirt guy had been a regular for months, always polite but never one to really engage in much conversation with Evan or the others. He always contributed it to the slight stutter in his speech, which only seemed to come out in longer sentences. It was actually kind of late for cute sweatshirt guy to be at the cafe; he’d bought his coffee close to an hour ago, and though he normally left right after, he’d seemed to linger now. He’d been one of the people who’d come up to Evan, looking like he was going to burst out in a confession, only to ask for creamer.

And sugar.

And a new cup.

…And more creamer.

For a coffee he always drank black.

“Wait.” Evan’s breath hitched in his throat as his eyes widened on the blue gaze nervously watching him, fingers curled into the worn down sweatshirt that was identical in color. 

“Yeah, I’m-that was me. Jonathan. Who you were-I’m the guy tha–that, um, fuck. Luke said I should’ve just-but the wall was…was our thing.” Jonathan’s face lit up in color at the confession, the nervous laugh that poured out loud and uncontrolled. It echoed from the emptiness of the cafe, and both men jumped when Brian swore and knocked over a stack of cups in surprise. Tagging that as future Evan’s problem, he turned his attention back to Jonathan, who looked ready to let his sweatshirt swallow him whole. The smile he gave only lifted half his mouth, proving he didn’t feel confident. “You had no idea, did you?”

“None,” Evan admitted, hands pulling out of his apron at the defeated look that sunk over Jonathan. 

“Right, that’s- I don’t have to ask you on a date if this isn’t what you…if I’m not who you-”

“Ask me!” Evan cut him off fast, not wanting to let Jonathan feel rejected for a second longer. He rushed forward, snagging hands that tugged the end of torn sleeves to entwine their fingers. Blue eyes widened above him, but Evan refused to let his racing heart of reddened cheeks stop him from repeating his confession from before. “Anything but coffee, and I’ll say yes.” 

“Dinner? Can I-would you like to get food with me tomorrow?” Like a puppy, Jonathan’s body perked up at the possibility. Evan laughed before lifting their hands to cup Jonathan’s cheeks. He pushed up onto his toes, feeling the slight intake of his customer’s breath before he answered with a kiss.

But just to be safe, he wrote ‘yes’ on the chalkboard the next morning.

#kihoori #H2O Vanoss #H2O Delirious #VanossGaming #OTP boys #<3 #Crimson drabblez

[myhauntedsalem]

13 Creepy Camping Encounters That Will Put You off the Great Outdoors

1. The Crying Girl

“When I was younger probably like 10 or 11, I went camping with my family. I’ll just get right into it. It was about 1 or 2 in the morning, and I couldn’t really sleep. The tent me and my brother were in was really hot, and very uncomfortable. Anyway, while I was trying to go to bed I heard a very faint whimper. I tried to ignore it because I figured I was just tired. Our campsite was along a road with many other camps nearby. The whimper started to get louder, and then turned into crying. I heard footsteps outside of our tent, and a girl crying.

Now let me tell you, it didn’t go faint, it got louder and louder. It remained in the same spot the entire time. That’s so important because, it indicates that she was looking at our tent site, crying. It gets worse, then it turned into a full on scream for a few seconds, then cuts out. When she started screaming by brother woke up. We both look at each other and just get all the pillows and stuff our head under them.

I couldn’t sleep at all that night. I’m just glad we left the next morning.” – Keithic

2. The Shaking

“This happened to an acquaintance of mine and his son. This took place back in the early ’90s.

He had taken his young son for a father and son type hike out of Skagway. If any of you are familiar with Skagpatch, there is quite a network of trails above town at lower Dewey lakes.

So, it’s evening, dinner done, tent up, bed time. Sometime later, around midnight, he’s woken up by the tent shaking violently, then silence. Then again. Keep in mind its late August, and pitch black, I mean as pitch black as you can get under the heavy coastal rain forest with no moon.

This shaking kept up for over an hour. He had no idea what it was. He went out with his headlamp, yelled, and heard nothing. Would go back in the tent, then it would start up again. He could here footsteps whenever it happened.

He was pretty shaken up by the next morning as you could imagine.

He reported it to the troopers, and the only thing they could come up with was someone with a night vision set up messing around. Or something else…” – Yukoner

3. The Middle of the Woods

“This happened to me when I was little. I went camping with my older brother and my mom. I was about 7 or 8 and I went to bed around 10 in a sleeping bag inside my tent with both my mom and brother. Some time during the night, I don’t know when, I woke up somewhere in the middle of the woods still in my sleeping bag. I had no idea where I was or where my tent was. I screamed for my mom and I heard her calling back for me in panic but she was easily 100 yards away or so. To this day I have no idea how I ended up in the middle of the woods still inside my sleeping bag. Gives me the chills.” – cckaufmann

4. The Hanging Man

“Hiking the Appalachian Trail in Pennsylvania for a week in…2006 and my brother and I came across a young man who had hung himself. We sprinted up to the bluff where he was strung up. I wrapped my arms around his waist to take weight off his neck while my brother cut him down with his Leatherman. He had thrown the rope up over a tall branch and lashed it off with a clove hitch at the trunk like you’d hang a bear-bag. Must’ve climbed the branches and dropped once laced in. We probably shouldn’t have even tried, he was dead for sometime before we happened across him. Fortunately no critters had come to tear him apart before we found him, it would’ve only gotten grislier from there. Called 911. Ended our trip pretty damn quick.

I don’t know why we tried, it was very obvious he had been dead for some time. Don’t know how long, he was very cold and smelled pretty bad. Intuition to help someone and adrenaline that clouds your judgement I guess? It was kind of a fucked up day so I don’t really remember my thought process.” – Anonymous

5. Scratches

“About one month ago, we are riding a favorite trail up near Camp Verde. Oldest son is leading, youngest is following him, a friend behind him and I am sucking up rear. Come over a hill and I see my youngest son with all of his gear off and his jersey. I came up asking what was wrong, thinking that he crashed, He said his back was burning. I looked and there were three scratches across his back. Looked like claw marks. No blood, but very distinct. He had a chest/back protector on so there is no way a tree branch or anything got him. We finally got him geared back up and headed out. About 30 minutes later, we reached a spot where we always stop for a break. I asked him to take the jersey off so that I could see the scratches again. They were completely gone.” – THB

6. Music in the Night

“A couple of years ago my brother bought a large piece of land out in the middle of nowhere, about thirty miles or so from cell phone reception. It’s quiet, there is no light pollution, no paved roads, and not a lot of people around.

Shortly after he bought the place, two of my brothers (the land owner and another), me, and our families spent a weekend camping on the land and doing our best to clean it up; people had used it as a dump, there were many downed trees, etc. On the second night we camped there, I woke up in the middle of the night to take a leak. As I was walking to the bushes in the dark, I realized that I could faintly hear music. This didn’t strike me as odd because I knew my brother had a radio in his camper. I finished up and went back to sleep with no further thought on the matter.

The next morning at breakfast, I mentioned the radio and music. Several other people recalled waking in the night and hearing music, but no two people heard the same music. Finally, the brother who brought the radio woke up. I asked him about the music and he seemed a bit freaked out. He woke up sometime during the night and went outside to smoke. He heard music as well and had assumed it was someone else. I should mention that he was the only one with a generator and a radio. It wasn’t his radio we heard, it wasn’t anyone else’s either.

I’ve been back several times, but I’m a bit freaked out by that place at night. I have fun while I’m there, but I’m almost always armed and I don’t sleep in a tent anymore, I sleep in my SUV with the doors locked. It may seem kinda dumb, but realizing that everyone heard different music when there are no people, no functional radios, and no electricity is quite creepy.” – goat-of-mendes

7. The Light

“We were in a river-side cabin one night in Northern Michigan. I had just stretched out when a huge crack erupted from the woods. Both of us thought it was a branch or old tree that had fallen.

After he turned off the living room light, we noticed that the light coming from the windows was abnormally strong. This sent our nerves to a new high. The light seemed to pulse several times and got so bright at one point you could have read a book by it. It couldn’t have been a car as we were almost a mile off the road on a dirt trail. Plus, the light came in from all the windows equally.

Every so often we would hear a strange humming noise that penetrated that cabin. This lasted almost half an hour. We talked about just running out to the car and leaving but neither one of us wanted to go outside.

After the light went out, we sat on the couch, occasionally putting forth theories on what it could have been. Around four o’clock in the morning, there was another loud crack. We worried that the light might come back but nothing happened.” – R. Bassil

8. Blue Spectre

“My friend and I were walking just outside of the circle of cabins. It was a bright night with all the stars shining and the moon was well lit. There was a campfire going, and in one of the big cabins there was a party going on with music and so on. We were walking, and we both got a really weird feeling, as if we were being watched. We both turned toward the sea… we saw a blue figure, very tall – about 7 feet – walking through the trees. It made no sound at all. It was a bright blue and glowing figure walking through the forest. It was emitting a shimmery aura, and my friend and I both became very frightened. We shouted at whatever that thing was and we were asking it what it was. We got no reply, of course, but we expected one. We stared as it walked away and out of our vision; we didn’t dare follow it.

We then ran back to the group of people at the camp fire, screaming and describing what we saw. Another friend of mine claimed he was watching it from a distance not far from were we were and was just as frightened as I was.” – Devin

9. Footsteps Upstairs

“Not something I experienced, but my sister and her husband did.

My family used to have a cabin on a lake in the Northwoods. It’s a lake with no public access. On the other side is/was an old Girl’s Camp that the state was letting fall apart. The camp had a large, two-story main house that was mostly intact at the time.

My sister and her husband decided to check out the camp one day. They canoe’d over and started to walk around. They went into the Main House first. They walked around for a bit. And then they heard heavy footsteps upstairs. These footsteps turned into someone running heavily towards the stairs.

My sister and her husband booked it out of the house, but they could hear the steps coming down the stairs and on the main level as they ran out. They opted to run around the house instead of heading back to the shore.

They never saw who it was, but they heard them enter back into the house. And then they heard them storm back outside again. They went into the woods this time and heard someone running in the woods after them.

They took the long way around the lake back to the cabin.

My dad and I had to go back later that day to get the canoe. We never heard or saw anything.” – joftheinternet

10. Geocaching

“I’ve been geocaching in the woods many times, and occasionally one runs into caches with weird things in them. The creepiest was an ammo box with only a handful of finds that contained broken doll parts and a handwritten note that said “Look behind you”. I definitely had the heebie-jeebies and double-timed it back to my car despite it being the middle of the day. It’s crossed my mind before that geocaching would be a great way for a serial killer to lure people out to remote locations.” – Anonymous

11. Who Followed Us?

“This happened in 81 or 82. Not sure anymore.

I had made friends with a fellow I worked with and offered to take him gigging for frogs. He was from the city and had never spent any time in the woods at night. The farm I had permission to do it on was only about a mile from my place. My friend showed up at 10:30 or so and I gave him a gig and a flashlight. We decided to walk to the other farm. We didn’t get far before we both heard something walking in the dark to the side of us. I’ve been in the woods all my life and I’ve had plenty of deer follow me but I wasn’t going to tell him that. It was clear he was getting spooked. We climbed a fence and continued on. Then we heard something else climb the fence.

Deer don’t climb fences. I tried looking around with the flashlight but he wanted none of it. We could see the house lights of the place we were going to and he ran off on me and beat on the guy’s door until they let him in. By the time I got there Mr. Barber, (the land owner), and his wife was out on the porch and wanted to know what was going on. Mr. Barber and I went back and had a look around but found nothing. My friend refused to walk back and Mr. Barber gave us a ride back to my place. We never did find out what or who it was that was following us.

My friend decided that frogging wasn’t for him. He has also refused to go on several fishing trips I have invited him to. I can’t say I was too comfortable with what happened but I haven’t let it stop me from frogging.” – Smoker

12. The Circle

“I was backpacking in New Hampshire and camped out for the night after a day hike. I wondered off from our fire to go take a piss and stumbled upon a circle etched into the ground with tuning forks surrounding the circle standing up straight…It looked like a creepy ritual circle and it bugged me out so I booked it back to the group.” – ITS_A_BADTIME_BOB

13. The Gator

“Few years ago I was camping in the Everglades in Florida with a few friends. We all had gone into our separate tents and were starting to fall asleep. The area was pretty noisy with bugs, crickets, birds, etc. I heard this very low vibration, sounding almost like a low roar. it was powerful enough to vibrate in my chest. Suddenly everything in the forest shut up. no bugs, no birds, nothing. about thirty seconds later my phone vibrates and its my friend in the other tent texting me asking if i heard the same thing. the four of us kept texting each other, wondering what it was. about ten minutes later all the animals slowly started making noise again. I slept that night with my machete at arms reach.

A lot of people are saying it might have been a gator. We were in an elevated area that was far from any streams or ponds. Its possible there might have been a pond with a gator that we missed, but the very big ones tend to hang out in lakes.” – Biggs180

#13 Creepy Camping Encounters That Will Put You off the Great Outdoors #shared stories #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits

[probably-writing-x]

Behind you.

Guzmán x Reader

Request by anon: Hey! Could you write a guzman x reader where the reader is being stalked by some creepy guy and guzman is their bf and tries to help out? Ty❤️ love all ur fics

Gif is not my own

Requests are closed🤍

Being the daughter of a well-known actress was certainly an experience that had its ups and downs. You were blessed with a life that never managed to be boring, and you could hardly complain about everything you’d been given as a result of your mother’s success. Though, it had its negatives too. You’d mainly been brought up by nannies and staff at the house who’d always been around when your Mum was off filming or doing press. But it worked, you’d made it through school up to your last few years and you were just turning eighteen when it first all started taking a turn. You’d had to retake the school year as things got rapidly complicated towards the end of last year. It didn’t matter. You still had Ander and now Omar at school with you. And Samuel and Rebeca. And, most importantly - your boyfriend Guzmán. Turning eighteen meant one key thing for you - you were an adult now and that meant you’d likely be in the public eye even more than you were originally. Especially with the new news that you were having to retake a school year.

“Guzmán!” You laugh as he races after you into the house.

He’s dripping wet from being in the pool and it splashes onto the tiles beneath him as he chases you with arms reaching out.

“Guzmán stop!” You squeal, unable to hold him off any longer as his arms wrap around you and he pulls you into his damp chest, “I’m not going in the water!”

He clearly has other plans as he carries you through the glass doors again and jumps into the pool with you in his arms this time. You’d been enjoying an afternoon together in the beaming September sun as you’d been sunbathing on the loungers beside the pool and he’d been enjoying the cold of the water much more.

“You’re an asshole,” You splash him with the water, treading on the surface to keep afloat.

“Come on, it’s not that cold once you’re used to it,” He pushes himself through the water so he’s close to you.

“I was quite peacefully enjoying my sunbathing actually, you’re just needy,” You scoff, kicking back so you were floating on the surface like a starfish.

“Is that so?” Guzmán queries, hands reaching out for you again as he starts tickling your sides and under your arms.

“Guzmán!” You half-screech, flailing in the water involuntarily as you jolt away from his touch.

“Who’s been traipsing wet footprints onto my newly cleaned floor?!” It’s Fernando who exclaims the words that make Guzmán stop in his actions instantly.

Fernando had basically brought you up since you were little, he maintained the house and did everything your Mum would normally do if she was around more. He was completely family to you, which made him very protective when Guzmán arrived on the scene.

“Sorry Fernando,” Guzmán admits, swimming over to the edge of the pool as both of you push yourselves out of the water.

Fernando hands over a towel to each of you and picks up your empty jug of water, “You’ll be cleaning it next time.”

“Noted,” Guzmán smiles. Really, Fernando couldn’t not like him. He was here more often than not nowadays and had practically spent every day of summer with you. Despite your differing financial statuses, Guzmán didn’t really care about how much money you or your Mum had. He spoilt you more than you would ever expect from a boyfriend and Fernando knew you needed someone like that by your side as you grew up so separate from normality.

Guzmán dries himself off with the towel and shakes it through his hair to try to lessen the effect of his soaked locks. It’s then that you hear it first. You flinch at the sound of rustling behind you and what distinctly sounded like the shutting of a camera.

“You okay, babe?” Guzmán frowns when he sees the disturbed expression casting over your features.

You keep your eyes trailed on where the source of sound was coming from, “Yeah, sorry, just thought I heard something.”

“Oh, okay,” He shrugs, “I’m going to take a quick shower and get changed. Do you want to order us some dinner?”

“Yeah, I will do,” You try to flick yourself back to reality and get yourself away from the worry you’d created in your own mind.

“Okay,” Guzmán smiles, leaning in to give you a soft kiss before heading inside.

And you’re sure you heard that shutter again.

In fact, you’d been having those moments more and more recently. You’d been receiving texts from anonymous numbers, photos sent to your number of you in places where you’d never expected anyone to be taking photos of you. Some of you walking into school, even one of you leaving Ander and Omar’s place. Plenty of you with Guzman. None of them had ever been in your own home though, luckily this place had security and fences enough that you felt safely blocked off from that sort of thing. Until today.

- - - - - -

“All I’m saying is, there’s no way you’d go back to me after that if I did what Ross did!” Guzmán sighs at the TV as you finish another episode of friends.

He got very passionate about the idea of Rachel deserving better - claiming that, if it was him and you, he wouldn’t feel worthy if he’d done everything that Ross did.

“Right honey?” He glances up from where he lay with his head in your lap.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, you can put the next one on,” You dismiss, eyes constantly glancing back outside every few seconds like you’d catch something you were waiting for.

“What’s distracting you?” He frowns, pushing himself up to sit beside you, “Was it something I said?”

“No, no, I’m fine don’t worry.”

“You know I’m only joking when I talk about me doing what Ross did, Id never actually cheat on you, or make a list or...”

“No, Guzmán, no,” You half laugh, “It’s honestly not you, but you’re such an angel for worrying about that.”

He smiles bashfully as he lays back down in your lap to watch the next episode. You hated the thought of him getting caught up in the publicity of your Mums name, him becoming the high school boyfriend that they’d simply wait for you to split up with. There had already been rumours flying about as soon as people had first seen you together. Headlines that gave people to lowdown on who exactly (Y/n) was dating. He’d never cared enough for it to have any effect. He’d just dismissed it and carried on as though you were living in complete normality.

“Although I would bring all the presents to your office if you got a fancy new job,” He laughs to himself, snuggling into your legs as you run a hand through his growing hair.

You encouraged yourself to completely focus on him instead of getting yourself wrapped up in what could or could not be. Guzmán had a surprisingly good ability to distract you from near enough anything, without trying one bit.

“Right guys, I’m heading up to bed. I’ve made sure all of the doors are locked even though Guzmán checks anyway. And I’ve turned everything off so you can just head to bed whenever you want to,” Fernando explains, “Good night.”

“Night Fernando!” Guzmán calls, not shifting his head away from your legs.

It was true. He had an unmoving habit of checking the doors before you went to bed, knowing he never slept well if he hadn’t at least put his mind at ease. It was one of those quirks you’d always adored.

“Do you want to go up soon?” Guzman asks through a stifled yawn.

“No, that’s alright, a couple more episodes at least.”

It’s not that you weren’t tired. You easily were practically drained. But the thought of going to sleep didn’t seem like anything happening soon. All you could think of was who or what could be lurking to take a photo or catch another story now there were no restrictions.

- - - - - -

It takes an hour of putting off the idea before you finally decide to give in and head up to bed with Guzmán.

“I think I’m more like Chandler,” He says through the toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, “And you’re more like Monica.”

“Are you still talking about friends characters?” You roll your eyes as you take off your robe and pull on his T-shirt from the day instead to sleep in.

“I’m just sayinggggg... we’re nothing like Ross and Rachel,” He shrugs as he finishes brushing his teeth and instead waits for you.

“Okay babe,” You chuckle, walking into the bathroom.

As you do, your phone goes off from the bedroom.

“Can you get that? Its probably just Instagram or something,” You ask him as you wash your face.

“Or your secret boyfriend,” He wiggles his brows as he goes to grab your phone.

It’s like his heart drops at the sight. An anonymous number. And a photo of you from earlier, wearing only your bikini after the two of you had gotten out of the pool.

“(Y/n), what is this?” He speaks slowly like the extra time will give him chance to process it, as he begins to scroll up to see the previous photos you’d been sent by the same number.

You’re speechless as you stand in the doorway and watch it unfold.

“How long has this been going on for?” He asks calmly, “Is this the only number that’s been sending them?”

“Guzmán, I was going to tell you...”

“Okay, so I need you to tell me now - do you know who this is?”

You move over to the bed and sit down beside him, “No.”

“How long have they been sending you these?”

“Maybe a couple of months, since graduation - after I turned eighteen,” You explain, “I promise you I was going to tell you and I-“

“No, no, I understand that,” He puts his hand over yours, “I just need to understand what’s going on because this isn’t okay (Y/n). There are photos of you at school here, photos of us two, photos of you in a fucking bikini in your own garden.”

“I don’t know who it is and I don’t know how to stop it. That’s what I thought I heard earlier,” You explain shakily.

“That’s why you didn’t want to come to bed. You were scared to go to sleep in your own home,” The words hit him with such a realisation that it’s like they’ve sliced straight through his heart.

“Mums always said about me having a bodyguard whenever I go anywhere,” You shake your head.

“But you always wanted to be a normal kid, I know,” Guzmán offers you a small smile, “You’ll be okay, you know? I’m here, and you’ve got Fernando, and we’ll hire somebody who can investigate this and figure out who the fuck thinks it’s acceptable to take photos of my girlfriend like this.”

You let out an involuntary laugh at his sudden outburst of irritation, “Thank you Guzmán.”

“Come on, babe, let’s try to get some sleep and we’ll go through everything in the morning,” He encourages, “Yeah?”

You finish getting ready and join him in the bed where you lay down beside him. He’s staring up at the ceiling and you are too. There’s a silence like you’re waiting for the next time that shutter clicks. A half an hour must pass before he speaks up.

“Can you sleep?” He whispers like there’s anybody else close enough to disturb.

You shift in the bed and prop yourself up against the headboard to sit up, “No.”

He smiles against the dark and sits up to join you as he wraps an arm around you and pulls you to him, “You’ll be okay, we’ll get this sorted. Whatever it takes, okay?”

It was the same thing he’d told you when you’d first warned him of the publicity that followed your life. He’d convinced you that it didn’t matter and he’d explicitly told you that he’d do whatever it took to make things easier for you whenever things got difficult. He’d stuck by it ever since and you trusted him to do the same now.

- - - - - -

When you wake up the next morning, you’re alone in the bed. Guzmán’s left a note on your bedside table - “Morning, you were still snoring in your sleep so hopefully you slept okay ;) x I woke up early so didn’t want to disturb you - don’t worry xx’

You tuck the note into your drawer with all of the other notes he’d given you over the years and walk downstairs to try to find him in the near empty mansion.

It pains you instantly when you see him sat outside. He’s fully dressed, too dressed for the early hour, and he’s sat on one of the loungers and you watch as he runs his hands over his face. It’s like he’s carrying the weight of the world.

You come up behind him and instinctively reach out to rub his shoulders to which he leans into your touch so easily, “Why are you up so early?”

“I got in touch with our old PI from back in the day, I’ve given him any information we have and I’ve given him all of your contact details so he can keep you up to date with anything you find. And I’ve told my Mum that I’ll be staying here for the foreseeable,” Guzmán explains, “I don’t like the thought of anybody like that being near you and until we get to the bottom of it, you and Fernando aren’t getting rid of me.”

You laugh a little and squeeze his shoulders, “I don’t deserve you, Guzmán,”

He turns his head and presses a gentle kiss to your hand, “You should’ve told me sooner, but we’ll do whatever we can to stop this before it gets worse.”

You lean in to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders, “Thank you.”

#guzman #guzman elite #guzman imagine #guzman drabble #guzman blurb #guzman one shot #guzman request #guzman writing #guzman fanfiction #guzman x reader #guzman x you #guzman x y/n #elite #elite netflix #elite imagine #elite drabble #elite blurb #elite one shot #elite request #elite writing #elite fanfiction

[ts-unsolved]

Final Wrap-up for Chapter One

((since chapter one will be coming to a close shortly and there is still an assortment of questions left over, here is a masterpost of responses to queries that couldn’t be addressed during the story! 

[reminder: the ask box will be left open, however the characters are not available. please keep in mind that non-plot related questions will not be answered by the characters after this post.]

Anonymous said: ((Just wanted to tell you your drawings are so pretty and I love ur blog. That is all I have no braincells to ask questions))

Anonymous said: OKAY MOD I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW I LOVE THIS AU SO MUCH AND ITS SO COOL AND GOOD AND YOUR ART IS TOO!! sorry for caps I’m just excited

Thank you! Sorry I didn’t always get around to answering asks like this, but for every one that was sent in, I appreciated it with all my heart. You guys are angels ���

Anonymous said: What is one haunted location you guys would really like to visit someday?

Poveglia is definitely the highest on the list for the notoriety alone, although they would likely never get the permission to go (the history in general is almost excessively horrible and tragic, so nothing good would come out of doing an episode there. Maybe it’d be good as a final-chapter type location? 🤔).

@anxious-fander-bean​ said: Hey Logan, have you ever tried swing dancing? It's really fun and good excersize! There's also a lot of bouncing and upbeat music, so Patton might enjoy it as well! ((I'm doing it. I need the qpp boys to be happy and have fun, bc they deserve it.))

(LOGAN: I’ll...consider it.)

You did it, you got them to go on some good ol’ platonic dates! B)

Anonymous said: I feel bad that I don't have any deep question or something along those lines, but what's your favorite thing to bake, Pat? - 💐

That’s alright! Questions don’t have to be deep to be fun/interesting. 

(PATTON: Cupcakes! You can make so many different flavors, and there are tons of fun ways to decorate them!)

@why-should-i-tell-youu2 said: Why cant anyone else see the seal?

You need to have The Sight to be able to see demon sigils. Patton has this ability naturally, and Dee has it because Elliott taught it to him. Otherwise, Virgil and Roman would be the closest in terms of gaining this ability, but a scared/skeptical part of them is holding them back. 

Anonymous said: My good dorks, is there a way to, I don’t know, get a better/more effective charm for your office? One that costs more than $10? -🍁

Anonymous said: Hey, Logan, potential naturalistic explanation for ya: depending on what the charm was made of, shifts in ambient room temperature could have caused minuscule expansions and contractions in the material that would eventually crack the charm. Do I believe my own explanation? Absolutely not. Am I grasping at straws for a non-supernatural explanation? Absolutely. And ambient room temperature doesn’t even begin to explain the red symbol around the charm

(LOGAN: Our budgeting is already a mess as it is, the last thing we need is to waste more funds on decorations. And that theory seems much more reasonable than the contrary explanation.)

Anonymous said: Is the demon that Pavreen summoned the same demon that possessed Elliott?

Anonymous said: Welp Virge SUMMONED A DEMON- (Why do I have a feeling Remy was the demon that possessed Elliot-)

Nope, they’re all different demons! The demon that Parveen summoned is notoriously difficult to contact, so a bunch of teenagers wouldn’t have been able to do it. Likewise for Remy; you can only summon him once you have his True Name, and he’s already destroyed most references to that (sorry Patton).

Anonymous said: omg omg omg what part of mythology is remy part of???

He’s not from any particular mythology, but he is partly based off of Alps from German folklore and the general mythology around sleep paralysis!

Anonymous said: Can Patton see supernatural beings like ghosts and demons and stuff? I just think it would be interesting if his scars make him able to see them :3c

Anonymous said: If both Dee and Patton can see the sigil, and Dee can see ghosts, does that mean Pat can see ghosts too? With the whole red glowing thing (forgot what its called) it seems to be connected.

Yes he can see ghosts/demons, and you’re right that the scars (or rather the deal with the demon which gave him his powers and scars) are what lead to him being able to do it. The red is just a general indicator of something supernatural/not of our Realm.

Anonymous said: Wait so if Patton and his family all have that mark could that mean Patton is not completely human 👀 -🌈

I supposed you could say that Patton’s not entirely human because he’s a witch who was born without a soul, but he’d find that pretty offensive tbh.

Anonymous said: Are Elliott and Patton maybe related, even distantly? Also, roman needs to suck it up and have Feelings for the Snake Man

There’s no relation between Elliott and Patton. Elliott is the child of a seer and a psychic, Patton is the son of witches. They’re similar, but different. (Also you’re assuming that Roman hasn’t liked the Snake Man since high school, but considered him off-limits because he’s his brother’s best friend).

Anonymous said: Does Patton know that Dee can see spirits and does Dee know that Patton is protecting them all?

Anonymous said: Dee, pat, do you know that each other can see the sigil? 

Anonymous said: is ... is patton a witch and dee a dee-mon and that's why they don't like each other.....?

Anonymous said: Pat what do you think about making deals with demons?

They’re both aware of each other’s secrets! Technically they’re both doing their best to protect everyone, but that doesn’t mean they agree with each other’s methods or bond over the shared responsibility. 

Patton is indeed a witch, and Dee is a regular human who happened to summon a demon one time. Patton thinks Dee is the occult equivalent of a satanist, which he disagrees with because dark magic is unnatural/dangerous in his eyes (making deals with demons only leads to trouble!), and would prefer Dee not endanger his friends. Dee doesn’t like Patton because of his perceived moral superiority, and finds the way he can be so secretive and two-faced creepy 

Regardless, they’re both sitting in glass houses and have more in common than they think.

Anonymous said: Patton Should Hug Dee *

Maybe. But he won’t. 8′D

Anonymous said: Since Dee has been able to see ghosts for a long time, was he an open believer in ghosts before Elliot died? Since it was mentioned that the reason he lies about his belief is because he knows that they're dangerous, he wouldn't have had a reason to hide it in the past. And if he did are any of the others aware of the belief change? Well, besides Remus. I'm guessing that one is pretty obvious.

He may have been more involved as a believer in the past, though that doesn’t mean he was ever super open about it. He was aware of how it would look like to outsiders (being genuinely skeptical at one point himself), so he wasn’t going to paint a target on his back by talking about ghosts and demons and things most people can’t see.

Of course, that didn’t stop people from stereotyping and making those sorts of assumptions about their friend group anyway, but no one besides them really knew about their secret-- not even Virgil.

Anonymous asked: What would happen if one time, the gang ended up getting something supernatural on camera?

The result of that would depend on the being. Ghosts can kinda appear on camera, although it’s very rare for them to appear as a full bodied apparition, which is why they usually only manifest in spirit orbs or light/shadows. Poltergeists are better since they’re able to interact with objects, but likewise since they can’t manifest into a physical form they can easily be brushed off. Demons and other miscellaneous creatures will straight up not appear if captured directly on film; you’ll simply get video glitches and distortions.  

So essentially, they may technically have found something already, but capturing evidence that’s also compelling is a lot more difficult than you’d think. I imagine there’s a good chance that anything legitimate wouldn’t get taken too seriously because of how easy it is to fake evidence nowadays.

Anonymous said: Okay so a little bit of a rant but not really ig but imagine the ladylike and unsolved crossover for this AU like I can see it as like Thomas' friends dressing up Roman and Dee in style and seeing a blushing mess and maybe flirting going on because of how good the clothing complements each other but this is kinda a weak idea lol

It’s not a weak idea at it, it’s really cute! (though I may just have a soft spot for the Ladylike cast and crossovers). 

The only thing to note is that I’ve chosen not to include Thomas’ friends in this AU because I personally weird about writing fiction about real people? (I was on the fence about including character!Thomas for a while too, tbh). So, apologies to anyone who’s sent similar asks or wanted to see any of Thomas’ friends; they wont be around!

Anonymous said: Did Dee and Remus ever have that talk Dee said he would try to have a while back????

They might have gotten the opportunity to chat back when Remus came back to help shoot the Room 1046 video. It wouldn’t have been a complete reconciliation by any means (dealing with years of baggage in one sitting is Hard), but now Remus is aware that Dee is open to discuss things again at some point in the future, so progress!

Anonymous said: wait wHAT?! When did he (Emile Picani) die?? Give us the deets oh wise one

Anonymous said: emile is... dead? what happened?

I see y’all, but unfortunately you’re not getting any answers from me just yet! You’ll have to wait until the next chapter~.

Anonymous said: Shit is about to go down and I am worried about the next ghost "adventure"

:) Don’t Worry About It.))

#OOC #((that should be all the big questions! #i'll update this later if anything comes up))