#I live in rural middle of fucking nowhere
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“supporting the bus strikes (and/or any other kind of public transport trike) is a good thing and those people deserve better working conditions and wages” and “bus companies need to Fix Their Shit because it’s tiring and frustrating watching little old ladies and school kids get stranded in a town an hour and a half from their village because some busses just Don’t Turn Up For No Reason At All” are two concepts that I think should coexist
#strikes#public transport#public transport strikes#look this is a very Me Specific situation okay#I live in rural middle of fucking nowhere#and our bus services are atrocious#and some of our bus drivers are actual sadists#and I’m serious about vulnerable people getting stranded hours away from home#cuz they never give us a reason for bus cancellation#it just Doesn’t Show Up#and we have to Deal With It#if I had a nickel#for every time I got stuck in the town with my school#and had to stay over a friend’s house because they refused to run any of the proper busses back to my village#i’d have two nickels#which isn’t a lot but it SHOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED IN THE FIRST PLACE#vent post#cw vent#wright writes
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im saying this with love but this shit is why a lot of people will never take anarchism or anticiv seriously. if you literally refuse to answer people or take their concerns seriously you're just going to look like a paternalistic know it all dickhead. we know the state medical apparatus sucks shit; but having to rely on whats essentially a local fucking alchemist to make the meds you need to live also sucks shit. and i dont even think that this (imo relatively adventurist) individualist stance is that big of a deal, and honestly probably would be better than a lot of our current medical shitshow, but why are YOU afraid to conceive of something better, a workers state that distributes medicine and resources to people who need it with the strength of centralization? when shit hits the fan, do you really think that formless affinity groups are the best way to recover and provide for other working class people everywhere? so fucking obtuse
#not to mentions anticivs already turning disabled ppls criticism into inside jokes 🙄 its ableist. get real#also like idk i lived in the middle of nowhere rural WI for a while#and we like knew all the doctors in town and all i can think is like. okay if it was an anarchist post rev town then what do i do#if one of the doctors is disgusted by my transness or otherwise hates me? what if i get taken advantage of because i /need/ medical help?#only answer is either live through hell or leave and look for meds elsewhere but i cant fucking walk to another town without my knees actin#like theres a power dynamic there and thats not something id be able to address to work against easily in a strictly social situation if#everyone else trusts or like them more. like they tout the freedom this arrangement provides but then wtf does someone do if they're unlike#wheres accountability come from if not enough people like/trust you?? you're fucked!#sasha speaks
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I was feeling SUPER depressed today and I was planning on basically just playing Baldur's Gate 3 and surviving through the day. Well I foolishly decided to finally purchase and install the game on a day where the only thing I wanna do is play the game.
"7% done! 4D 5HR left! :D"
#simon says#vent#im so upset#I'm going through a nasty depressive day where my only goal is to not give up and get high and the one thing I wanted to play is 130 GB#i live in a rural area so the download speed... is bad#in case you're wondering why i decided to get it now#I was just so sad that I decided to break my current no-spend habit to just buy the damn game#i heard its good. i wanna see what's up with that gay little vampire. and I wanna play a fun game.#but alas#it's 130 fucking gigabytes#and I have the download speed of someone who lives in the middle of nowhere#i guess I dont get to see what's up with that fruity little vampire today
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why do universities basically expect students to get a large portion of basics done in high school now
#background info: went to a rural hs that had basically zero ap classes#and everyone i’m meeting now in my program is an entire math ahead of me#and first semester freshmen are in the same classes i’m taking now after 3 semesters#like i knew going into this that i was going to be behind with not having ap calc to skip calc 1 and 2#but it’s getting to a point where it’s disheartening#and i knowww it’s not my fault that i happened to live in the middle of fucking nowhere#but it sucks having to do more just to catch up to where my peers are at On Top of learning the same material#delete later prob
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I FUCKING WALKED 6.5 MILES IN ONE GO TODAY
#mud rambles#I'm still catsitting lmfao and because my tire AND rim is fucked and it's sunday i do not have a car!!!!#and i can't leave those cats unfed for an entire day!!!!#I was able to get a ride home but i wouldnt have been able to get a ride there in time and i was already not there as early as i wouldve lik#on the bright side. she is supposed to be home tmrw so i shouldnt have to do that again EL OH EL#i give credit mostly to the testosterone and my naturally large calves for being able 2 do that because.#this is not a normal thing i do. i dont work out consistently at all#im. like. it sucked i had to do that but also the fact i was able to makes me rlly proud#and getting to be outside and just walk was nice especially once i caught that second wind LMFAO#having to wait for. like two hours to be picked up kinda sucked but it was peaceful. it was just too cold and getting dark so i couldnt walk#all the way back home safely because the walk is. already not fucking safe lmfao and i was wearing ALL BLACK#yeah. not fucking chancing it#i had sidewalk literally for like. 300 FEET. MAYBE#like. I live in the fucking rural ass northeastern part of the appalachian mountains. we have main routes but it's still assfuck nowhere#i am not walking 6 and a half miles IN THE FUCKING DARK especially when we're in the middle of a warm front#we have coyotes and bears and while mountain lions arent typically in my area... it would be my fucking luck to get fucking murked by one#and like. deer may not be predators but. nepa. rural areas. NIGHT??? I am not chancing coming across something ELSE. ifykyk#anyway. i am home now. all is well. but goddamn i am having an eventful ass start to the fucking year huh
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As anti-car as I am like. Trains are not viable for everyone
#ive been thinking abt this the past few days but killer said smth abt it and now i want to too#i live in the middle of shit nowhere. im 30 minutes along the highway from the nearest city#i am not within walking distance of ANY store or service#and my health problems in turn make my walking distance much shorter than that of a healthier person#i hate car companies and a car based travel system. but ppl tend to neglect the existence of rural folks when talking abt this#slapping a train or bus station down everywhere doesnt work#making this non rebloggable bc i dont want ppl to clown and miss my point#fuck cars i hatw driving and cars and traffic and shit. but i hate the ignorance of rural folks and their needs more
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Fascinating to notice how often you can save yourself a lot of stress and grief by simply double-checking that you and other people mean the same thing when you're talking about things. My partner has often voiced his desire to get the fuck out of society and civilisation and move in the middle of nowhere to grow potatoes and hunt game for meat in a little red hut in the woods. I told him that alright, but just as a heads-up I'm pretty sure that while he would survive, I'd probably straight-up fucking die out there.
And today we were looking up woodland properties around the country, just to generally get some kind of a picture of what size the ones for sale are, and what kind of prices they're going in, and ended up finding an affordable one that'd be in the absolute dead centre middle of complete wilderness, and he remarked that yeah, that's too isolated. I was genuinely confused, too isolated? Wasn't he just specifically looking for the most desolate corner of backwoods where he could live without ever seeing society again, totally off-grid, returning to hunter-gatherer and not having anyone find his mummified corpse for decades if not centuries after he dies out there? After we die out there, that is.
He was baffled that I had honest-to-god thought that he had meant "absolute middle of nowhere out of reach of society of any kind" when he said he wants to get away from society. This whole time, he had meant "nice little rural place where people don't end up by accident (but still a reasonable drive's away from the nearest grocery store)", and not literally dead middle of nowhere. This whole time he had thought that when I said "okay but I will probably die", it meant that I would wither and die of misery like a näkki on dry land if he took me into a city smaller than 50,000 people. And this whole time I had thought that he really meant to take us we-will-literally-die-out-here Out There kind of out-of-society.
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City Slicker (m, allergies)
I present to you all: p0rn lmao. This is my first allergy fic in YEARS and it is literally just 2k of Elijah sneezing himself silly. It's a little messy, just fair warning. Hope you all (especially my allergy-hungry friends in my ask box) enjoy this - I certainly enjoyed writing it lmao.
cw: male snz, MESS
City Slicker
“What’s your favorite animal?”
“Greyson. I really am not in the mood to play twenty questions right now.”
“But I’m bored.”
Elijah sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other held firmly on the steering wheel of the van. “What are you, a toddler?” he asked, replacing his hand so both were white-knuckling the steering wheel. “Play on your phone or something.”
“I’ve reached the end of the internet. Can we stop and get Starbucks?”
“Greyson, we’re in the middle of bum-fuck-nowhere. What do you want me to do, conjure up a Starbucks? You should’ve asked before we were out of the city.”
Greyson groaned loudly, living up to the toddler label his boss had bestowed upon him. “Great, so now I get to be bored and uncaffeinated.”
“I’m sure they’ll have some shitty folger’s or something when we get there,” Elijah said, prompting a loud, fake gag from Greyson. Elijah took a deep, calming breath in through his nose. “We’re almost there, you fucking brat.”
The event this weekend wasn’t one Elijah would have normally said yes to; it was a Farmhouse Retreat out in a rural part of New York State, and any town with fewer than a million people living in it tended to give him hives. Not to mention his irrational fear of farm animals – not that he’d ever actually seen one in person; the thought alone of a pig looking him in the eye was too disgusting for him to put into words. But, it was a paid event which was incredibly rare, and it was a celebrity getaway which meant buzz for the restaurant. Those were two difficult things to say no to.
Elijah’s phone signaled them to turn right, and when he did he and Greyson gasped in unison – this was no Podunk farmhouse getaway. The house itself was more of a farm mansion, twice the size of even the largest house Elijah had seen out in the Hampton's. The agriculture was meticulously kept, and the animals were grazing out in the tall grass – far enough away to escape any fear, but close enough to give the entire place a Fisher-Price-esque charm. Greyson whistled long and low as they parked next to the line of other caterer’s cars.
“Not in Kansas anymore, eh Dorothy?” the chef asked, yanking open the passenger side door and stepping out to stretch. Elijah couldn’t help but huff out a laugh as he opened his own door.
“Guess no – HTSCH!” Elijah wrenched to the side as he stepped out of the car. Clearly the air out here was too clean for his city-boy sensibilities. Greyson barked out a laugh from the other side of the van.
“Bless,” he called, pulling open the two trunk doors to start unloading their things. “I figured your systems would all start shutting down the moment you breathed in air that didn’t smell like piss.”
“Oh, like you’re any better,” Elijah said, starting towards the trunk to help his friend. “When’s the last time you chose to take a trip somewhere with no bar or coffee shop?”
“Obviously never, but I grew up in a shitty one-horse town,” Greyson said. “You’ve probably never even seen a cow in real life.”
Elijah’s face flamed, and Greyson howled. “Shut the fuck up,” Elijah grumbled, elbowing Greyson in the stomach and grabbing the decorations for their booth. Greyson doubled over with laughter, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted into the quiet farm air.
“CITY SLICKER! WE GOT OURSELVES A CITY SLICKER!”
“Greyson, shut up,” Elijah called, turning to face the chef. “People are paying to stay here, you fucking dickhead.”
“Alright, alright, sorry boss,” Greyson lamented. He pulled a few chafing dishes out of the back and hoisted them onto his shoulder. “Not my fault that it’s hilarious that your body hates fresh air.”
“It doesn’t – hhITZCH! TSHH! HTSH!” Elijah crushed his nose into his shoulder to sneeze this time, prompting another round of laughter from Greyson.
“Sure it doesn’t,” Greyson said, passing his boss to head towards the sign directing the purveyors to the massive yard of the farmhouse. “City slicker.”
***
Something was happening – he didn’t know what it was, but he did not like it.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Like, I know I was making fun of you before, but are you sick?” Greyson asked as Elijah buried his face in his arm for the fiftieth time that hour.
“HTSHH! Hh-ITZCHH! HRSHH!” Elijah wiped his running nose on his sleeve and cringed. He used his hand to attempt to wipe the sleeve of the watery mucus he’d left behind to no avail. “I’m not sick, I feel fine,” he said. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me – HTSHH!”
Greyson slowly raised an eyebrow, covered his finished food so it would stay fresh for the first guests’ arrival in thirty minutes, and leaned against their booth. “Lij, I’ve spent a lot of time around you – you literally never sneeze this much unless you’re sick.”
“Grey, I’ve been completely fine up until we got here, are you saying the fucking fresh air made me sick? Do you think I’m some sort of nega-Victorian child, instead of needing the fresh air to clear up my scarlet fever I need the sweet smell of street hotdogs and sewage? Hhuhh’ITSCHH-ue! TSHH! ITZCHUE! Fucking hell.” Elijah covered his face with a hand and looked desperately around for something to wipe it with. Grudgingly, Greyson handed him one of his kitchen towels. “Thanks,” Elijah muttered, blowing his nose.
“Y’know,” Greyson said, “normally I would say that yes, you are the nega-Victorian child, but I don’t think you’re lying.”
“Thanks,” Elijah said, rolling his eyes from behind the towel.
“For once.”
Elijah flipped the chef off.
Greyson laughed. “Seriously, though, have you ever been on a farm before?”
Elijah threw his hands into the air, annoyed. “No, Greyson, I’ve never been on a farm. Happy? Yes, I’m a fuckin’ liberal-elite city-slicking dickhead. Happy?” He sniffled lightly, post-tirade, his nose already itching again with the need to – to -
“HTSHH! HRSHH! Huh! TSHHH! HRSHH-uh! ITZCHH-ue! Huh!” Elijah pressed the back of his hand hard into his nose to stop the stream of sneezes – the other caterers had to be staring at him. He was sure of it.
Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing. “Lij,” he said, placing a careful hand on his boss’s shoulder. “I think you’re allergic to this farm.”
Elijah blinked back itchy tears. He rubbed his nose on the towel, sniffled lightly, and looked around him – at the animals he’d never been near before, the grass he’d only been around when it was perfectly manicured for a lawn or fake, the trees with their yellow pollen floating in the wind. “Oh,” he said. “I… I mean, I’m not allergic to anything.”
“Not allergic to anything you’ve been around before,” Greyson corrected, a shit-eating grin slapped across his face.
Elijah pressed two fingers into his itching, swelling right eye. “Yeah,” he said, taking in the allergen-ladled scenery. “I guess you’re right.”
Greyson motioned towards the back doors of the farmhouse, where throngs of people were beginning to head towards the booths of food. “I’d offer to ask the host for an antihistamine,” he said, “but I think it might be showtime.”
Elijah watched the crowd with a mix of anxiety and abject horror. This walk-around event was two hours long, and he couldn’t go two minutes without sneezing. “Fuck me,” he muttered, shoving the towel behind their booth and sniffling. “Hhh-! HTSSHH! HRRISHH!”
“Get it together, man,” Greyson said, unwrapping his food and setting out tiny plates. “It’s showtime.”
***
By the time the event was over and the guests had filed back into the farmhouse for whatever rich person activity they had planned for the evening, Elijah had quite literally sneezed himself hoarse.
“Dude,” Greyson said as he piled their things back into the containers they’d brought with them, “maybe you should go sit down for awhile.”
Elijah turned to the chef, rubbing his nearly-swollen-shut eye, and gave him the dirtiest look he could muster. “Sit where, Chef? In the grass that’s trying to kill me, or under the tree that’s trying to kill mehhh – ETSCHH-ue! ESHHH! HRTSHH-uhh! HTSHH! TSHH! ITZCH-ue! Guhh…” Elijah had given up the facade and moved from sneezing helplessly into his sleeve to sneezing directly onto the ground, hands braced on his knees so as not to pass out from dizziness. Greyson cringed as his boss wiped a string of snot from his nose with the back of his hand – this was about to be a long drive back to the city.
“I meant in the car, Lij,” Greyson said, not-so-subtly handing Elijah his last clean kitchen towel. The GM took it, grateful, and wiped his nose, which seemingly subconsciously turned into a long, congested nose blow.
“Fuck, sorry, my brain isn’t fucking working,” Elijah muttered, clearing his throat. “I can’t fucking stop – HRRSHH-ue! Snee – HTSH! HRSSH! ITZSSCHUE! Hhh!” Elijah cringed into the now-soiled kitchen towel, delicately wiped his nose, and folded it up. “You don’t have another one of those by chance, do you?” he asked, breath already hitching once again.
“Sorry, boss,” Greyson winced. “Last one.”
Elijah nodded, somber. “Yeah, I’ll go waii – huh… snf. Wait in the cah – HUHHITSZHH-ue! ITSSZHH-uh! Huh! HTSHH! HuhhhITSZZHH-ue!” Elijah once again turned away from Greyson to sneeze towards the ground. Each one sounded more desperate, more painful than the last. Greyson had literally never seen his boss so… well… affected.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” a voice from behind the both of them said. Greyson whipped around as Elijah attended to his nose. It was one of the other chefs, smiling in sympathy and holding a pink package. “I wanted to see if he needed some Benadryl. I mean, it’s not non-drowsy, but since the event is over I figured -”
“Yes,” Greyson said without consulting Elijah. “Yes, one million percent.” He took the Benadryl out of the other man’s hand and placed a grateful hand on his shoulder. “Thank you so much.”
The other chef laughed in earnest, took a peek over at Elijah, then regarded Greyson again. “I remember my first farm trip,” he said. Greyson bit back a laugh.
“Something similar?”
“You could say that.”
Greyson smiled and patted the man’s shoulder. “Thank you again. Seriously, here’s my card – stop by anytime for dinner on me. You just saved me from five hours of breathing in his fuckin’ mucus.”
The man laughed again. “Anytime,” he said, taking the card from Greyson’s hand. “And I think I’ll take you up on that. You guys in the city?”
“Lucky guess,” Greyson said. The other chef smiled.
“See you around,” he said, heading towards his truck. Greyson popped a pink pill out of its packaging and placed a rough hand on his boss’s shoulder. Elijah, obviously gearing up for another fit of sneezes, turned and saw, almost instinctively, the pill in Greyson’s hand.
“Oh thank god,” Elijah gasped, snatching the Benadryl and choking it down dry. Greyson snorted out a laugh.
“Now you really need to go sit in the car,” he said as Elijah wiped his raw nose for the millionth time.
“Wha - ? Why, what was that?”
“Benadryl, you pill-fiend,” Greyson said, showing his boss the packaging. “Can’t sneeze if you’re passed out.”
“At this point I would’ve taken a lobotomy if it stopped the snee – sneezi – HUTSHHH-ue! HRSH! HRSHHH! HTSHH! Hhuhhh… hh, hhh… huhhITSSZZH-ue!” Elijah, clearly too exhausted to even cover his mouth, just turned away and allowed the fit to happen, sneezes sprayed into the open, pollen-heavy air. He groaned and held a hand up to his streaming nose. Greyson sighed, took off his chef’s coat so he was just in a white cotton t-shirt, and handed it woefully to his boss.
“You owe me a new coat,” he said as Elijah, too exhausted to even feel shame, took the garment and held it to his face. “Now go to the car and go to sleep.”
“Yes, Cheehh – HRRTSHH-ue!”
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It's Not the Weed | Jesse Pinkman x gn!reader
Anonymous asked: Sure okay
Can I request a friends to lovers type of thing for Jesse Pinkman x gn!reader? They’re both idiots in love with each other and maybe out on a night drive idk and one thing leads to another etc.
summary: you and Jesse have had crushes on each other since your years back in secondary school, but in a parked car smoking joints, it seems like the perfect time to confess.
tws: drug use, smoking, swearing
The love of your life was sat beside you in the car, music making everything around you shake and thud as you kicked your feet up onto the dashboard and leaned back, closing your eyes as you did your best not to look at him; Jesse was rolling the next joint already, hardly able to keep his eyes off of you. The music and the weed couldn't keep his attention away from you, the starry night outside couldn't either; a rural spot in the middle of nowhere, a long drive out of the suburbs where he lived, nothing but the desert to gaze out at. It was beautiful, really. Still couldn't stop him from looking at you, though.
Tilting his head to the side, Jesse handed you the joint and watched as you lit it up, the orange flame illuminating your features so well that for a second he knew that you looked absolutely divine, holy; it made him rub his eyes as he wondered whether or not he was dreaming. Such sweet and holy dreams weren't yet to come, though, but he hoped that they would. Jesse really hoped that they would. He had had his eye on you for a while, ever since you were in secondary school together; ever since you decided to sit next to him in Mister White's class, sat at the back together doodling and listening to music with earphones that didn't quite work right. He thought you were cool, but he didn't dare to approach you when you were eating lunch with your friends.
You ran with a crowd different to him back then, yet every day after school, you always went over his house; you helped him with homework, you sat around and played video games and watched shitty horror films about masked serial killers that were more silly than a group of clowns. Even on weekends, you would go out together and sit on a damp fields and smoke weed and drink beer, hidden away from everybody else; your head would end up on his shoulder and your arms wrapped around one of his, his baggy and oversized hoodie draped over you like a blanket.
Pulled from his thoughts, Jesse dared to look at you again; his gaze softening as be swallowed thickly, tilting his head to the side and trying not to giggle when your fingers graced his as you passed him the joint. You grabbed the bottle of Lucozade from between your ankles, cracking it open and taking a long swig as you hummed softly and relaxed a little more.
"Y'know," you mused softly. "I always did think you were kinda hot."
It felt like the sky had come crashing down, shakily reaching for the Lucozade bottle so that he could take a swig but immediately choking on it as his eyes welled up with tears; it didn't feel real. Jesse was sure that he misheard you, but when you tapped him on the shoulder, he swallowed thickly.
"Did you hear what I said?" You spoke so slowly, like every word had a golden meaning. "Jess?"
"Uh, no," he breathed out, shaking his head and shivering a little. He turned on the car's heaters.
"I said, I always thought you were kinda hot," you fucking grinned as the words left your mouth, and suddenly the weed didn't matter and the fact that it was only you and him meant everthing in the world.
Jesse took another few drags, then handed the joint back to you. His mouth felt dry and his heart was pounding. He thought his hands were shaking but that could have just been the weed, a fuzzy feeling surrounding him as he grinned and shook his head. "Nah, that's just the weed talking, yo."
"It's really not," you scoffed, shaking your head and licking your lips. Your mouth was starting to feel dry, and your stomach was starting to feel empty as a giggle left you; one that forced you to close your eyes as the giddiness ripped through you for a moment.
It really wasn't. The weed had nothing to do with it, in truth; you always thought he was kind of hot. Ever since you sat down with him in Mister White's class all those years ago; how he smiled always made you feel like you couldn't breathe for a second, how he laughed always made you feel sort of giddy and made your face feel hot to the touch. You missed the times when you would play video games together and fight dirty, pushing and shoving one another until you were sitting on his lap and trying to block the screen just so you could win. You missed the nights when you would smoke together on the fields, and when he would freak out when you took him to supposedly haunted places, promising to protect him. As you grew together, your attraction to him only grew, and as you looked at him now, you knew it wasn't just the weed. Maybe the weed made you a little braver, maybe it made you a little more confident, but it didn't change how you felt.
The joint was finished, smoked down to the roach and thrown out of the window when Jesse moved his seat back, the metal nearly grinding as he swallowed thickly and ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth, frowning at how fucking dry it felt. "It's just the weed."
"It's not," you insisted, daring to awkwardly climb over so that you could straddle his waist, hoping that the gear stick wouldn't dig into your knee as you put your hands on the seat either side of his head, glaring down at him. "Jesse Bruce Pinkman... this isn't just the fucking weed speaking."
'Sex is Muss' by Feuerschwanz was playing and you couldn't help but to wriggle around a little, almost trying to dance to it as you grinned and bit at the inside of your lip; but Jesse was too stunned to speak, those bright blue eyes focused entirely on you as he reached out and put his hands on your thighs, swallowing thickly as he didn't dare to take his eyes from you. Not this time. He did his best to focus on the lyrics, focus on the song as best as he could, but it wasn't exactly helping as it made the entire car vibrate.
Das ist kein normales Liebeslied, (denn Sex is Muss!) sondern ein Triebeslied, (denn Sex is Muss!) ein ganz besonders liebes Lied, (denn Sex is Muss!) eine Ode an den Liebestrieb, die Katz und der Kater, die Kuh und der Stier. Ente und Erpel, welch lüstern Getier. Maja und Willi, Struppi und Tim, Heidi und Peter, ergibt doch voll Sinn? Der Topf und der Deckel, der Arsch und der Eimer, die Faust und das Auge, alleine bleibt keiner. Alle Welt tut es, so war's immer schon. Selbst Vögel vögeln, frag mich nicht warum.
"I wanna kiss you."
"Then do it," you nodded, and when he leaned up a little, capturing your lips with the most soft and quick of kisses, you couldn't help but to laugh. "Is that all you got?"
"I wanna take things slow," he told you. "If... if this isn't just the weed talking, I wanna... y'know, do things right."
"I can do that," you licked your lips, your gaze going down to his lips for a moment. "Do you, uh, do you remember when you caught me snogging Nia at Theo's house party?"
Jesse nodded. "Yeah."
"Would it be too forward to say I wanna do that with you now?" You asked, and when Jesse agreed, you leaned down, capturing his lips so gently.
One hand went to his jaw, as you tried not to laugh when he put one hand at the back of your neck, the other gripping your shirt so tightly that his knuckles went pale as he kept you so close; the feeling of your lips on his made him more dizzy than any drug could, and when you slipped your tongue into his mouth, his breath felt like it had been drawn from him and given to you. He thought he had been blessed more than he could say, more than he wanted to admit, and when you pulled away, all that left him was a soft whimper.
"Was that okay?"
"Yeah," Jesse nodded again, licking his lips and savouring the way yours tasted. The mix of weed and Lucozade. But then you made a move to get off of his lap, and Jesse gently tugged at your shirt. "Can you stay like this?"
You grinned. "Sure - if you give me a cigarette."
He fumbled around until he found the packet, and pressed it into your hands. "You're somethin' else, (y/n)."
But the smile on his face, the giddiness in those eyes that wasn't just from how high he was, it was all too much to ignore, and you dared to laugh softly as you lit up two cigarettes and gave him one. It really wasn't just the weed.
if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG
#mlem writes#jesse pinkman x reader#jesse pinkman one shot#jesse pinkman imagine#jesse pinkman#breaking bad imagine#breaking bad fanfiction#breaking bad
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How did Nurse Ann die in your au??
She's one of my faves and I rlly want to hear your take on her backstory
-💉anon
PERFECT QUESTION OK. ok . man ok. i have a lot to say
cw for abuse, torture, kidnapping, etc. typical creepypasta style stuff
annemarie mia was born into a rowdy family in NYC. She had two older brothers & one younger brother. each were 1-3 years apart. Her older brothers were pretty cruel to her and her little brother. she turned it right back onto her little brother. biting, spitting, smothering him in his sleep, stealing his food so he goes hungry, cutting him. she'd been so mean since he was so little, she's threatened to kill him so many times, so he kept it to himself. he was beyond happy when, at 18, she moved out without a word.
by 27, annemarie was a neet. no job, school, social skills - she was unpleasant to be around, really snappy and bitchy and generally had a nasty attitude. cut off her entire family just because she didn't want to deal with the emotional labor. went through some pretty difficult shit to make a living.
and not that anyone really asked how she owned a decent little home in the more rural parts of tuscaloosa county, but she'd attribute it to inheritance, generational shit, the sort. she would be lying
she went by 'nurse ann' online, hosting a 'red room' service on the dark web thats exactly what the urban legend entails. what made her stood out is that she preformed in a dominatrix style, fitted with leather straps, studs, whips, corsets- had a generally more 'sexy' atmosphere to it. her audience liked the way she followed some sort of hospital roleplay half the time with the nurse dress, medical equipment, syringes, etc.
again, its an urban legend, but her red room is basically taking donations alongside requests for certain torture methods on her victim. depending on the price, she could cut off some fingers, use acid, rip out their teeth, skin them, whatever the fuck her audience could ask for - and she has quite the fanbase, too. most of her streams lasted days, sometimes she'd turn it off and come back, sometimes she'd just leave the victim there writhing on camera the entire night. even after they died, she'd dissect them to keep up the nurse persona, making a whole show of it - showing off her body and her sadism all in one. she wanted to make the most money she could
she mostly acquired her victims from dirty, dingy bars where she'd drug whoever she wanted to bring home. drag them into her truck, dump them into her basement way out in the middle of nowhere, set up her camera, shimmy her way into some leather, and make thousands in a single night. she typically preferred men, but if enough people paid for her to bring in a woman, she would.
very very very rarely she'd let an audience member interested in their own murder, an autassassinophiliac, come onto her stream. it'd be a whole ordeal, they'd have to already send a fucking massive sum of money before she even considers it. always brings a fully loaded gun, drugs that she expects them to take right in front of her, cuffs, so on and so forth - too much work and too much risk most of the time, hence the rarity of this occasion.
she fucked up one day. quickly, the man over powered her & beat her unconscious. she woke up in a completely unfamiliar location, hung by her hands like she was meat at a butchers. she was dressed in a shitty nurse outfit, and a camera was set up right in front of her.
what happened to her that night was karma. he dismembered her on camera, with many of her own fans waiting for the footage of him taking out her left eye, her hands, her arms, her legs. the only reason he didn't live stream was because he had no signal.
she slipped in and out of consciousness for the first portion of her torture, until she began to bleed out. she died when he began setting up the tools so he could stitch her right back up and make a doll of her, keep something to keep the 'fans' happy.
he brought her to an abandoned hospital in the middle of a forest. her murderer didn't fully know where he even brought her. slenderman was not very happy about all the mess he made
kate, coming from a mine less than a mile from the hospital, was notified that a human was in the forest. after a short sprint, she begins stalking through the hospital as the man is finishing up his work.
theres a bit of a chase between the two, until kate does her job and kills him with a random weapon he left around.
kates not really paying attention to annemarie's corpse, she's just dragging the mans body somewhere for her to dispose. it takes a couple hours for kate to get it handled, and by time she's coming back to the hospital to deal with annemarie, she gets the shit scared out of her when the woman is walking around. stumbling and already rotting, but walking nonetheless. even introduced herself as 'nurse ann'.
kate had to get that figured out cuz it was really freaky.
anyway, zalgo had a part in ann's "revival." he's another entity trapped in slendermans forest, similar to the operator but significantly weaker. he keeps infecting corpses and bringing them back, partly hoping they can be used as puppets (but he fails to get into their head) and partly trying to cause trouble for slenderman.
he can only bring back people who die in the forest who aren't killed by proxies slenderman/the operator, since the corpses are 'locked' otherwise
but yea :3 she's fun
#maybe her wealth is still accessible after her death and the proxies can find a way to get into her shit.. hmmm.. dunno#asks#creeped#hcs#nurse ann#nurse ann hcs#nurse ann headcanons#nurse ann headcannons#creepypasta#creepypasta au#creepypasta headcanons#ann lusen mia
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Entering and Breaking
(tw: gun, break-in, kidnapping, chain, zip-ties, chains, gore mention, cat scratch)
[Drabble Masterpost]
Shoutout to @hidden-dreamland for this idea - I just had to write it <3
Too remote.
The burglar knew that.
They knew that they shouldn’t be going somewhere quite this remote - people who live out in the middle of nowhere like this tend to do their own hunting. Which means guns.
But.
It’s an old house. Older car. Well unkempt.
And most importantly no cameras.
Since the burglar had been living large, jumping house to house in the town, not only had people started installing their own security systems, but the fucking city started putting up cameras, too.
It just wasn’t safe anymore. They couldn’t afford to go to jail - they just couldn’t. Too much was at risk.
So. That meant driving. That means rural homes. That meant rural homes that weren’t estates that weren’t crawling with security systems. That means places like this.
Ugh.
The burglar stood in the treeline, watching the owner of the home as they came home - unlucky break, that. Should have gone in while they weren’t there. Of course, the burglar didn’t know they weren’t there at that time.
They watched as the owner moved around a warm-lit kitchen, singing along to music that barely tickled at the air through the windows. Watched as they cooked. Watched them fold laundry and throw a penpoint laser around the room, kitten chasing it.
Strange thing, that kitten.
The burglar could swear it saw them when it sat in the windowsill, wide yellow eyes dilated out into the night. All-knowing, overly saturated whole moons that someone shoved and pushed into the little thing’s skull until it was able to see some desperate little creature sitting in the treetops of a darkened timber, shrouded in leaves with a deflated duffle bag strapped to their back.
Unsettling, that kitten.
Stripes that blended into the blinds until the burglar wasn’t even sure if the cat was there at all. Maybe they were just staring too long into windows.
Regardless, the lights were out for hours before the burglar finally worked up the courage to shimmy down their little pine tree, sap screaming across the front of their black hoodie and catching at their long hair, before their feet hit the ground, greeted by damp, muggy leaves.
They moved to the house as swiftly and simply as they could, sliding a thin, metal ruler into the gap between the window and sill, persuading the latch to oonch a little more little more littttttle more to the right with tiny nudges and taps until it finally popped free.
Carefully, they pressed the window up, careful to touch only the pane, not the glass. It creaked and shuddered as wood ground against wood, but they kept the ascent as smooth as possible.
In a moment, they were able to curl upward, heaving themself over the edge and setting one soft foot onto the hardwood of the living room.
Their eyes skittered around the room, immediately searching for any sign of threat or notice. A flick shocked through their silent body as eyes flashed in the darkness - kitten perched on the piano with those haunting yellow eyes shining at them. Just watching. Uncaring and all knowing.
The burglar swallowed, snugging the window back down to avoid outdoor noises that might alert their victim of their presence.
Carefully and silently, the burglar began to shift through the house. Checking. Stashing. Silver spoons, identified by the tarnish. A slightly outdated but still valuable console. An ipad that they tucked under their arm - not wanting it broken by the other contents of the bag. They needed to wipe it before they left anyway in case there was a tracking option on it.
They moved carefully, plucking up small electronics and…..stepping around the damn kitten that insisted on weaving between their legs as they moved. “Shoo- shoo, I need to nodontgothere-” the burglar groaned as the kitten started climbing up their leg.
They stumbled as a tiny claw dug into their leg, hissing at the pain as they clattered to the ground. Evidently their main priority was cradling the ipad like a baby- keeping it perfectly safe while the burglar landed on a bag full of sharp, cold, and hard. They managed to keep their yell to a minimum as corners and edges bruised into their back and side, pinching the kitten by the scruff and setting them aside.
Floorboards creaked above them, the owner of the house shifting out of bed.
“Fuck-” that was a lot of noise- shiiiiiiiit- they pushed up to standing and slipped into the closest closet they could find, pushing the kitten out after them as the staircase groaned and shuddered under the oncoming footsteps of doom.
The burglar’s breath slammed so hard against their ribs as they stood behind the door they didn’t dare close completely - it would make too much noise to latch, focusing instead on the -fucking KITTEN TRYING TO CLAW IN AFTER THEM - SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHI-
Without thinking much, they found a random, jingly cat toy at their feet and flicked it through the crack between door and pane, holding painful breath in tight lungs as the sound echoed through the moonlit house.
The kitten followed, skittering and pouncing on the fuzzy thing.
The burglar heard a sigh - footsteps wandering up to the kitten. They could barely see a hand reaching into frame, scritching behind the kitten’s ears. The little terror, in turn, rolled over, grabbing and biting playfully at the hand in a viciously harmless attack.
“Precious thing, you need to learn to be quiet at night..” the voice was soft. Groggy from sleep. Clearly a little relieved it was ‘just a kitten’ they heard.
The burglar took a small step back, away from the crack in the door lest the owner glance up and see the streak of light glinting off a wide brown eye through the crack.
Panic snapped through them and their breath caught as their heel dropped into nothing. In a flash, all the burglar could see was them tumbling - stumbling and flailing through the darkness into a cool, cavernous pit of nothing - bones crunching against stone as they hit the bottom.
But they didn’t fall.
Their hand slipped to the side, gripping a wooden rail their instincts must have deemed there.
They turned, eyes wide in the darkness now illuminated by that strip of light.
….not a closet.
Basement stairs. A landing.
The burglar took a deep, shuddering breath.
They were too loud. Breathing too loud. They could swear the owner of the house could hear their heartbeat slamming- echoing off the walls.
They had to get further away.
So..down the stairs they went.
Carefully - so carefully - they stood on the crosses of wood, walking only where they could see nails.
The wood was new. Unfinished. Barely sanded. Handmade.
But strong. Strong and sturdy.
It, blessedly, didn’t creak under their weight as they slowly descended into the darkness.
Foot tapping blindly out at the air on each step, they clutched the duffle bag and ipad close, terrified of dropping either of them and making a clatter. Terrified of hitting the ground before they realized it was there. Terrified of…everything, really.
Their breaths came a little more freely the further they got from the door, quiet, wet pants all but echoing off stone walls. Close. Telling them at least that the space was small. Fairly bare. Mostly for storage, then.
….maybe there would be things there? Family heirlooms or even a safe? People keep shit like that in basements, right?
They could bide their time here while they waited for the owner to fall back asleep - which meant waiting a couple more hours to make sure they were dead enough up there that they could sneak back out the window without the hell kitten waking them up again.
Then they’d get out and it would be fine and no one could call the police and everything would be fine.
Breath choked against their throat as their foot hit a little too hard against concrete - the bottom of the stairs now.
The little colden slit of light didn’t extend nearly far enough. Eyes still adjusting, the burglar reached blindly out in front of them, hand moving through cool, musty air. Touching nothing as they blindly shuffled forward with eyes plastered open - wide with the desperation to see.
They didn’t dare turn on a light - maybe they would if it were one on a dimmer - just to get a little glo- OH-!
They stopped, turning around the ipad in their hands. They pulled the cover around to block the flashlight, at least mostly, then opened it, swiping and flicking on the flashlight option.
A spit of light swarmed out from the area in a small arch, and the burglar clamped their hand down over it.
They just needed a glow. Just enough to know they weren’t going to hit someth-
Their heart stopped dead and painful at the sound of footsteps groaning against the floorboards above their head.
They were breathing so hard it came in a round, muffled panting breaths coming so sporadically and echoing that it almost sounded like there were two of them here.
Eyes wide and plastered to the ceiling, they kept their breath dead still and the light clutched and covered against their chest as they blindly tracked the steps across the room. Through the kitchen. Up the stairs again. A soft cooing and chittering as they did.
They were bringing the damn cat with them.
Good.
The burglar took a deep breath, peeling back the cover of the ipad again and squinting against the fresh wash of white light as it turned around the room.
Shelves. Desk. Oddly…clean - no storage? Closet an-
The burglar’s breath clattered to a stop as the ipad slipped from their fingers at the flash of eyes staring back at them - haunted face outlined only briefly until the light fell and flickered away.
They stumbled back against the floor, fear and panic tangling up their stomach and squeezing at their lungs in an icy, branching fire. They choked on it, breaths harsh and desperate. New threat located.
Their fingers scrabbled for the ipad again, hand raking across the broken screen to force the light back on again. Hitting the side of it with the heel of their hand as they shoved themself back - dufflebag forgotten on the ground in the middle of the room - until their back hit the wall.
When the light finally did turn back on, it was flickering - sporadic. They shoved the light at the face they saw, begging the universe to let it just be a trick of the light. A strange marking in the store or an old coat hanging strangely on a chair like the ‘monster in their closet’ when they were a kid. That they’d see the creature’s face and it wouldn’t be real at all. Please please please-
But that didn’t happen.
They saw bloodied, dirty hands and elbows, forearms crossed up over a face they couldn’t see anymore.
Torn clothes..
On the wrists…zipties..
The burglar’s breaths were coming so fast now they were starting to get dizzy. Then softly sob - no - no that wasn’t them - no, that was the creature. The person. The person who was chained up in a fucking basement.
The burglar took several deep, shuddering breaths, keeping the ipad pointed at them.
A small, hoarse voice cracked across the room, not even amounting to a whisper. “pl-ease-”
The burglar stared, beam of light trembling over the wall - shaking like a projector with far too aggressive a fan rattling the image during a grade school movie day.
The burglar couldn’t think of a response. Couldn’t think of..anything.
But they did point the light away.
They set the ipad down on the ground, light pointed up so it scattered a gray haze over the entire room.
Tear-sparked eyes peeked out from behind shaking hands as they light moved away from the poor creature.
They were small. Frail. Littered in bruises. Tear-tracks slid down their cheeks, cutting through the dirt, blood, and grime.
“Wh-hho a-re you-??” they dared to ask..
The burglar..didn’t know how to answer that either. “I…n..I’m not anyone- I j….wh-ats going on??”
The little human scrubbed at their eyes. “Y-oure not with him?”
The burglar shook their head in small twitches. “No- just…I….I was..no I don’t know him.”
They seemed to breathe a little easier now - eyes flicking swiftly up to the ceiling - then descending to the burglar again. “C-ccan y-ou get me o-ut-?”
The burglar swallowed down the knot in their throat. It caught on dryness and fear, but they forced it down anyway.
“Yeah- y-yeah I can …do that-” they glanced around the room, whisper growing in pitch as they moved up to a crouch, looking around for..a key..? “..how?”
The human stood carefully, chain around their ankle chafing and rattling slightly - it echoed through the room. “Th-eres bolt cutters i-n the cabinet-??”
The burglar did not want to think about what the fuck this sicko needed bolt cutters in their torture basement.
Their mind filled in the answer to that question anyway.
Bile rose to the back of their throat, but they nodded, standing and tugging it open. They felt around in the darkness for the thick, heavy metal, and dragged it out with a grumbling scrape and a small clatter. They winced at the sound, but heaved it up against them - fuck it was heavy-
They carried it across the room to the captive, anyway.
“..wrists first-?”
The captive nodded desperately, holding out their wrists.
The burglar took a moment of heaving to get the teeth of the bolt cutters properly in place where they wouldn’t bite through skin, but snapped them together fairly easily.
The captive shuddered a soft sob, relief dripping from their eyes as they rubbed at their wrists.
The burglar didn’t wait for further instruction, they needed to move.
They knelt down to the captive’s feet, slotting one link of the chain between the thick metal teeth, then braced one handle against their thigh as their hands pulled back.
It bruised and dug into the flesh of their leg, but they didn’t stop.
The metal didn’t relent, but they didn’t stop.
Teeth grit, fueled by fear and desperation, the burglar pulled harder and harder, feeling the bruise work against the bone and listening to their back crackle at the strain.
They shifted, readjusting - maybe just one half of the link?? It was dented- that was a good sign - but not nearly enough.
They had to break it.
The captive rested both hands on the burglar’s shoulders, steadying both of them as the burglar groaned under the effort. They flinched hard as a hand pressed over their mouth, indicating quiet. They were making too much noise.
They were so stupid.
Silencing their voice with a small nod, the burglar moved back to the agonizing pull, jerking the handle to and fro, desperately trying to force the iron link to submit to iron teeth, crumbling to the ground.
They almost cursed as a little body brushed soft against their leg. “Not the time-” they scooted the kitten away from their leg with their foot, resuming their posi-
…
..how did you get..h..-
The burglar straightened immediately, terrified eyes turning to the stairs.
The owner sat there, crouched in the shadows.
The softest glint shone off the barrel of the pistol that was lazily pointed at the pair of them. Footsteps moved all but silently down the stairs - heavy all the same. The burglar flinched at every muffled step.
Silence clattered away as the owner’s shoe crunched against the discarded ipad, sending the world dark.
A ‘click’ and the room flickered into blinding, garish, rotting light from the dusty orange of a dangling bulb.
“Ohhh honey, did you pick the wrong house..”
[Drabble Masterpost]
(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @happy-little-sadist @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @wibbly-wobbly-whump @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @wormwriting @villainsvictim @throwawaywhumper @wild-selenite-caffine @whumpasaurus101 @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @pinkieglitterheart @whumpberry-cookie @rainbows-and-whumperflies @a-galactic-fox @shywhumpauthor @cyberneticwhump @bumpwhump @hold-back-on-the-comfort @veyroswin @whumping-seven-days-a-week @whumpingisfun @suffering-and-misery @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @whump-queen @uvanuva @a-whumped-tea)
As always, lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!
#gun#break-in#kidnapping#chain#zip-ties#chains#gore mention#cat scratch#2600 words#ew#whump#whump scene#whump drable
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Can you do a current day Nikki sixx smut
Where the reader meets Nikki in town in Wyoming they hit it off and end up on a dirt road getting it on in the back of his truck
Thank you
Small-town romance
Pairings: Current!Nikki Sixx x Fem!reader
Warnings: smut, age gap (Nikki is 63 reader is 25), daddy kink because of course, dom!nikki, sub!reader, semi public sex, and I think that’s it. Let me know if I missed any warnings.
A/n: I’ve never even been close to Wyoming so I’m sorry if the descriptions are inaccurate I’m just gonna assume it’s a small rural state. Also in almost all my Nikki fics he is single.
Summary: you meet a handsome older rockstar in town.
The farmers market.
It’s very crowded this Sunday because it always is. Always is crowded. Everything is the same here, you just want something different. Something fresh and new. And well, that something happened to bump into you.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry!” You hissed apologetically.
The man laughed, “Nah it’s fine. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You noticed how he was looking you up and down and it made you a little nervous but very turned on. Because he was none other than Nikki Sixx. Yep. Who knew the bassist for Mötley Crüe would find home in the middle of nowhere?
Of course you’ve heard gossip about it, how there’s a sexy old rockstar living in the mountains but you didn’t pay it any mind.
“Well, sorry for um running into you I better get going.” You said nervously before attempting to walk past the older man. However you were stopped by him grabbing your forearm.
“How about we take a ride in my truck?” Fuck, the offer was too good to pass up. You stood there for a moment contemplating before saying, “Sure.”
And that’s how you found yourself listening to heavy metal in Nikki Sixx’s truck driving down a deserted dirt road.
Then, the bassist unexpectedly pulled over.
You looked at him with concern in your eyes, “What’s wrong?”
He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned towards you, his hand creeping up your thigh as his other went to your cheek.
“Goddamn you’re so pretty.” He murmured before pressing his lips against yours. Your eyes widened in shock but you instantly melted into the kiss. “Mmm Nikki.” You moaned against his lips. You felt your pussy getting wetter and wetter.
“What is it babygirl?”
Fuck, that nickname. You about passed away.
“I…I…” come on Y/n, find the words!
Nikki pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “You can say it, I won’t judge.” He whispered lowly in your ear and you shivered.
“I need you.” You sounded desperate but you didn’t care. The older man seemed to really like it, kissing you rougher and more passionate before moving down to your neck and collarbone. You moaned and threw your head back in ecstasy. The two of you ended up in the back of his truck, he ripped your buttoned shirt open and unclasped your bra, immediately brining a nipple into his mouth.
You threw your head back and moaned as he played with your tits.
“God damn baby these are some of the best tits I’ve ever seen.” He groaned lowly. You grinded against his hard cock, and tugged on his shirt which he then removed.
“You want my cock pretty girl?” He asked with a smile. You nodded with an excited expression. You got down on your knees, squeezing in between the front seats and unbuckled Nikki’s belt. His hard cock sprang free you widened your eyes before licking the bottom and then taking him in your mouth. The bassist threw his head back and closed his eyes as he moaned in pleasure. “Fuck yes, so good for me. Such a good girl fuck you’re so good at that.” Praises were spewing from his mouth as you continued to suck him.
Then, he pulled you up by your hair and took your panties off from under your skirt. You straddled him and slowly pushed down. You moaned at the feeling of him stretching you.
“Oh yeah, that’s right. Ride daddy sweetheart.” You moaned at the name he gave himself. You began to bounce up and down, quickening your pace.
“Mmmm, daddy it feels so good.” You moaned.
“Yeah? Your tight pussy makes me want to shoot my load into you. Will you let me do that sweet girl?”
“Mhm! Yes daddy you can cum inside me.”
“Fucking hell.” He murmured in pleasure.
Before you knew it, you were clenching around him, crying out while you came. It wasn’t long before Nikki shot his hot, sweet cum inside of you painting your walls.
You collapsed next to him in the backseat. “Mind if I take you on a date sometime?” He asked calmly as if his cum wasn’t leaking out of you right now.
“Yes, I’d love that a lot…daddy.”
#motley crue#nikki sixx#motley crue x reader#tommy lee#vince neil#mick mars#fanfic#smut#nikki sixx smut#nikki sixx x reader#current nikki sixx x reader#daddy
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Dakota fights demons every time they try to upload a n y t h i n g 😭
Listen rural Ohio is a fucking struggle y’all. I live in the middle of nowhere 💀
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So who among the Arthurian characters is into cottagecore? Morgan has to be right?
hi!
you know what i'm gonna have to disagree. i don't think morgan's affiliation to magic and nickname "le fay" are enough, especially bc she prides herself on a lofty status that elevates her above the humble rural living that cottagecore romanticizes. i mean here she is in the vulgate proclaiming herself a king's daughter (isn't she the daughter of duke gorlois?) while she prepares to kill her husband and get away with it.
queen shit. here are some characters i think would be into cottagecore.
arthur: when thomas berger wrote him as loving his simple life in wales with his family and sleeping out with the dogs and genuinely relishing his modest upbringing with his foster brother? i felt that.
blanchefleur: she definitely named herself "white flower" after her own garden's award winning blossoms at the county fair. she bottles it for perfume too, if you're interested. perceval always keeps a little vial around his neck so he can smell it and think of her while on quest or when he gets lost on his way to take out the trash. thanks wifey.
brangaine and palamedes: whether or not she can actually achieve this lifestyle whilst in the service of isolde, she definitely dreams of fleeing to the countryside with palamedes. it also makes his commute shorter (cottage is on the edge of the enchanted woods in which the questing beast roams).
culhwch and olwen: after the nightmarish tasks they underwent just to get married they absolutely retired far away from court life where those shenanigans wouldn't reach their children.
dindrane: she's the quintessential nun, one who didn't learn necromancy. she enjoys all the typical stuff expected in a remote hermitage; gardening, baking, making wine, going on an adventure bilbo style complete with chaotic means and tragic ends, bird watching.
fisher king and elaine: since the queen passed away they just want more father and daughter bonding time out on the boat to fish. they catch dinner in their little pond and take it home to cook and go to sleep happy. they do the same thing again the next day without any obligations besides living. nothing bad happens.
green knight and wife: pretty sure they invented cottagecore or at least introduced the concept into the realm. they have their own line of cottagecore starter kits with little seeds to grow personalized mini gardens for a country oasis even in the discomfort of your monarch-sanctioned barracks. so what if the plants they sell are annuals and you have to buy a new one every year. aren't you committed to the aesthetic?
isolde and tristan: did they or did they not smash in that grotto like their lives depended on it? i rest my case.
merlin: have you read mary stewart's merlin trilogy? my guy wanted the quiet life so bad it made him look stupid. he died as he lived, in the middle of fucking nowhere. say what we will he committed to the bit to the very end.
tor: he is literally a cowboy farmer kid turned knight. actually forget the whole list he's the only one.
thanks for the ask!
#arthurian legend#arthuriana#arthurian legends#arturian mythology#cottagecore#morgan le fay#king arthur#blanchfleur#brangaine#sir palamedes#sir palomides#culhwch and olwen#dindrane#the fisher king#elaine of corbenic#the green knight#lady bertilak#queen isolde#isolde#sir tristan#merlin#sir tor#ask#gawrkin
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Alright so, there’s been a sleep between me and the House of Wax rewatch, so I’m going to TRY to organize my feelings by Chronological order of the movie. This is going to get long, so there will be a cut so I don’t take up too much dash-space for people who want to scroll past.
Basics of it: Bo Sinclair apologism and Let Vincent Have Agency over his own actions. Also people are DICKS to rural people for no reason, like seriously FUCK Wade. Wade Deserved It.
So RIGHT off the bat, with Bo’s first appearance in the woods with his truck—Bo did NOTHING wrong here. I live in a very rural area(I grew up in the middle of the woods, but now I live a ten minute walk from where I used to—there are so many cows). Where I’m from, if the landowner catches you in his woods you’re as likely to get SHOT AT as not. Showing up in a truck and staring at you is kind of a universal POLITE, gun free, warning—most people WILL scramble when someone shows up if they’re trespassing in the woods.
Now, what I think Bo was doing here was taking a headcount—deciding whether or not he wanted to deal with them, and I actually think he decided AGAINST killing them.
Despite the fact that they treated him aggressively and fucked up his truck, I feel like it cannot be stressed enough that BO DID GET THE FAN BELT.
Again, as a person from the middle of nowhere, it made ME fucking furious the way Wade came into town and just started breaking into places and LITERALLY breaking things. And, without prior knowledge that the church was full of wax victims, Wade was so impatient that he just couldn’t wait for Bo to FINISH UP AT THE FUNERAL, and decided to just let himself into Bo’s shop and take a fanbelt—leaving a “This is probably enough” amount of money. The entire time ripping on rural people and how they live(not to mention how he treated LESTER. Lester 100% acted like a normal guy around here. 10/10 girls I knew growing up would have LOVED to see his knife. That was an EXTREMELY normal interaction where I’m from.).
ANYWAY BO.
Bo straight up told them they could wait for him while he went ALONE to his house to get the part(also Wade questioning that a MECHANIC has some of his stock at home?? Fuck you man), and it was Wade that insisted on going along.
I do not think Bo intended for Vincent to go Snip Snip through the floorboards. (On top of that, Wade made the DUMBEST little noises after getting sliced—Bo getting changed upstairs probably 1000% thought “Jesus Christ the fucker is blowing up my goddamn bathroom”. He may not have even known yet that Vincent got him; depending on whether or not he noticed the signs of struggle in the already kind of messy house.
(On THAT note, I got pissed as hell the way Wade was judging the Sinclair Home—like bitch you are the reason moms in the early 2000s went berserk about the house needing to be spotless when guests come.)
Bo was genuinely surprised when Carly LOCKED HIM OUT OF HIS OWN TRUCK. I feel like THAT was the point where Bo decided “Fuck it.”
I think that, up until then, Bo WAS going to fix up their car and get them on their way, because he KNEW they had a whole lot of friends who were coming back for them—Bo may not be the brightest, but I feel like he was smart enough to know that that could have got them caught or hurt.
My best friend and I joked that we would have survived our trip to Ambrose because we simply would not have been assholes. (And we would been HUGE nerds in the Wax Museum, and well, NOT took a lighter to the pieces??? Vincent probably would NOT have shanked us. Tbh we would not have gone into the Sinclair home because when Bo said “You can wait here if you want” we would have simply said “Thank you.”. Well, we wouldn’t have broken into the Museum AT ALL, but given who we are we may have ASKED Bo if we could see it.)
Now, I’m not saying Bo ISN’T a bad guy, like, he very much definitely DID lock Carly in a basement and glue her mouth shut, but I didn’t really see a whole lot of like?? Gratuitous Sadism?? Is there more in a novelization or something?? Like, he threatened her to keep her quiet—but since he and his twin are literally serial killers I think that’s pretty standard?
The fact that Carly was able to so EASILY dismantle the chair makes me kind of feel like it wasn’t really used much? I mean, Bo is a mechanic, you’d think if that were a thing he made a habit of it would be in better repair. I didn’t really get the feeling that this was like, an average Tuesday Night for Bo or anything.
(On that note, I would have been the worst victim because the MINUTE he turned the music on I would have been like “Oh shit dude I like your taste” and he would just “???” Of course, I may have met a completely DIFFERENT fate because I simply would not have locked him out of his truck. There would have been no chase.)
AND VINCENT.
I don’t get where the “Uwu Soft Boy” “Bo’s Victim” thing comes from unless people were just taking Carly’s late-movie assumptions at face value??
Like, Vincent DID very much get in a truck and go into the woods just to hunt Blake and Paige. Like, he had no reason to do that, and Bo was straight up mad about it until he settled down and told Vincent he did good and they’d fit the set. Like, Bo is the one who imprisoned Carly, but Vincent VERY MUCH WAS THE ONE WHO DID THE KILLINGS. Bo did not tell him to do any of that. It kind of makes me mad because it feels like Vincent’s agency is downplayed a lot in the fandom and that it’s just because of Bo snapping on him One(1) Time, and Carly’s assumption in the final chase.
And as far as Bo snapping on him goes!!
Bo had AN ARROW IN HIS CHEST AT THE TIME(Also Bo, I love you, but FUCK WHY DID YOU PULL THE FINS OF THE ARROW THROUGH YOUR ARM??? He should have just?? Cut the arrowhead off and pulled the SMOOTH part through?? This man). I think most people are prone to snapping when they’re in severe pain(and I think the way Vincent IMMEDIATELY rushed in to survey Bo’s wounds shows a lot about how they DO care about each other, like very clearly Vincent is not AFRIAD of Bo—considering even after he snapped Vincent was just like “Whatever, go ahead and bleed, I’m going back to fixing up my mask.”). The sibling of mine I actually KNOW is significantly younger than me, so we didn’t have any kind of antagonism with each other—largely because I was a Parentified Sibling—but every close in age pair of siblings I know can be pretty mean to each other, but always in an “ONLY I CAN PICK ON MY SIBLING” kind of way. Bo calling Vincent a “Freak” and then IMMEDIATELY taking on a softer voice and telling him how great his art is had HUGE “I’m sorry, you can hit me back, don’t tell Mom.” Energy. I really don’t think Bo abuses Vincent.
I mean, he said “You’re not supposed to go anywhere WITHOUT ME”, which implies that they DO go places together; and given how easily Vincent killed everyone he killed in the movie, it makes a LOT of sense that Bo wouldn’t want him going out alone. Especially if(and this is my own speculation) Bo is used to always being around to “Protect” Vincent from people who would make fun of him.
>Inserting this here because I forgot to mention it: I genuinely think all the killing started while Trudy was still alive, because Bo talks about how he and Vincent can “Finish what she started”. Additionally, in the beginning of the movie, Lester gives that little speech about how people can “get used to a lot”. That makes me feel like the brothers were probably RAISED to do the things that they do(supported by the fact that the fucked up machinery Vincent puts his victims in looks OLD, so it’s not unlikely that Trudy used it first). That doesn’t absolve Bo and Vincent, of course, but it does make them ALSO victims.
Moving on to Carly’s speculation at the end—she CLEARLY pissed Vincent off. I mean, she just BEAT HIS BROTHER TO DEATH and then called BO a freak and suggested that BO was behind everything. Not only did she kill HIS twin(and she and Nick would know better than anyone how much pain Vincent must have been feeling in that moment) but she called BO a Freak too. Given the amount of abuse Vincent watched his parents hurl at Bo, that was probably a rehashing of how he felt when his parents would bind and beat Bo and yell horrible things at him. (Also like, FUCK, the fact that Bo’s high chair STILL has fucking blood on it??? Like their father was a DOCTOR, and he just made Bo sit and eat with his Rotting Old Blood right there??? FUCK.)
And finally, Lester sitting on the back of his truck at the end of the movie, Jonesy sitting with him—he was probably waiting around for some sign of what happened to his brothers, and THAT breaks my goddamn heart.
But like, bottom line, I don’t think Bo was the “Evil Twin” much in the same way that Nick wasn’t actually that bad of a guy. The Sinclairs are obviously the result of a very fucked up upbringing, but aside from the whole wax thing and the locking Carly in the basement, Bo actually feels like a pretty normal dude??? By slasher standards??? I definitely don’t get any kind of a “Bo is the mastermind” vibes from the movie—it feels very much more like this is just the life that’s been NORMAL to Bo and Vincent for so long.
Yeah, they should have just left Ambrose and NOT kept killing, but Bo is CLEARLY still trying to get his mother’s love, and I don’t think Vincent even WANTS to stop. I don’t think Bo would have ever left Vincent even if HE wanted to stop.
#Bo Sinclair#Vincent Sinclair#lester sinclair#sinclair brothers#house of wax#house of wax (2005)#mypost#Bo Sinclair Apologism#Like honestly Wade had every chance to NOT be a fucking dick and he just kept digging his own grave#fuck Wade#all my homies hate Wade
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so funny story
At present, and not by choice, I live in a big house in the woods just outside a rural Texas Hill Country village of about 290-300 people in the middle of fucking nowhere. Our “town” is so small it’s listed as a “census-designated place.” We have a post office, a gas station, a restaurant, and 6 churches, and that’s about it. This is deep, dark Trump territory.
So.
My mom’s best friend used to make pies for the local billionaire. One time this friend was talking to the rich fuck’s personal chef, right, and the chef, who was from some big city in South America,* remarked on it being interesting that there are so many lesbians in this area…which made a record scratch in the friend’s head, obviously.
She counted off the two (2) retired lesbian couples in the Canyon, and asked who else he was referring to.
And he said he saw them all the time around here: women wearing cowboy boots and dirty jeans with no makeup.
And the friend was like
my dude
those are ranchers
*yes that’s a huge area, no I don’t have more specific info
#they’re not trying to be butch my man they just don’t want to step in horse shit in heels#lmfao#texas#liveblogging the texas hill country#true story#meatspace#queerdom#blog together queue alone
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