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#you love guns and roses
whiteroses0982 · 1 year
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is that true?
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And the dance floor is filling up with blood
But oh lord, you've never been so in love
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stvnszlr · 11 days
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i have literally never seen him look this happy with any woman . just saying
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axlrosebaby · 10 months
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thinking abt calling axl daddy rn… please elaborate 🤞🤭
axl goes absolutely mad when you call him daddy.
the first time it happened, you were underneath him, clawing at his back as he pounded into you. his head was in the crook of your neck, moaning softly as you whimpered and mewled, hips bucking involuntarily.
and it was so soft on your tongue, the quiet, experimental "daddy." he was already worked up, hands tangled in your hair and caging you in, and when you called him that, he lost it. his pace would be even quicker, a groan in your ear and a "call me that again, baby."
so you did, repeating what he'd asked you to repeat, voice wobbling as he thrust into you, harsh and rough. his dick would be twitching inside you, his arms shaking and his moans loud.
and when he came, he was too far gone to realise that he hadn't finished you off. you'd made him lose it.
the teasing you'd inflict upon him after that would be incessant, constantly calling him daddy to see if he'd get as worked up as he did. until eventually, he had enough and told you off, building up a gradual tolerance to the name until it became normal for the two of you.
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poisonlove · 7 months
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Blood and Love | t.c
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Tara was aware of the secret that haunted her sister: being related to Billie Loomis.
But she could have never expected to receive a late-night call that would change the course of her life.
I enter the hospital room with my heart racing wildly in my chest. My breath is ragged as I search for Tara's gaze. When her eyes lift and meet mine, I see fear and relief mingling in them.
—T/n—she whispers, her voice like a fragile thread of silver holding together tumultuous emotions.
I approach her bed with determined steps, though my insides are a storm of emotions. I sit beside her, my gaze fixed on her as if I want to shield her from any harm. I gently take her hand, trying to convey a sense of security through the touch.
—Tara, how are you?—I ask with a soft voice laced with concern. Her lips curve into a muted smile, but I still see the shadow of fear in her eyes.
Tara gazes at the hospital ceiling as if seeking comfort in its simple whiteness. —T/n— she begins, her voice trembling, —it was such a strange and terrifying call.— She takes a deep breath before continuing. —The phone rang, and I answered without thinking too much. There was this distorted, almost mechanical voice asking me unsettling things.—
I look at her, my eyes fixed on her, trying to imagine what she must have faced. —What did it ask you?— I inquire cautiously, dreading the answers that might come.
Tara nervously wets her lips. —It asked me how I was... and then it asked about my mother.— Her voice cracks slightly, and I sense her fear through her words. —It said it was watching me and my mother. It was so unsettling, T/n. It made me feel like I was being observed.—
I squeeze her hand with a bit more strength, trying to convey my silent support. —You must have been so scared—I say empathetically, feeling anger course through my veins. I wish I could confront the responsible person with my own hands, but now my role is to be there for Tara.
Tara nods with teary eyes, tears pooling in them. —And then... then the questions got creepier. It asked me what I thought about Steb.— She sighs, and I know it's a delicate topic. —Steb is the movie that... well, it's about everything that happened with my mother. It was a terrible part of my life.—
Her words shake me, but I keep holding her hand to offer my silent support. —Did you answer those questions?— I ask with curiosity and concern. I know it can't have been easy for her to confront these painful memories.
Tara nods, her voice trembling. —Yes, I answered. Then... then it happened. I heard a noise from the front door, and when I turned, he was there... Ghostface.— A tear rolls down her cheek and falls onto the hospital sheet. —He started shouting, saying terrible things. He was so menacing, T/n. He had a knife, and... and he hurt me.—
Anger and disgust well up inside me as I listen. I wish I could erase the horror she went through, make her fear vanish. I squeeze her hand even more, trying to transmit all the affection and support I feel. —We'll get you out of here, Tara. And together, we'll find a way to cope with all of this.—
Tara's tears stream down her face as she looks into my eyes, seeking comfort and security. I hold her hand affectionately, knowing I can't erase the past, but I can be here for her now, in this moment of fear and vulnerability.
The images before my eyes are a mix of pain and helplessness. I look at the oxygen tubes in Tara's nostrils, the bandages on her hand, and the wounds on her legs. Seeing her so vulnerable, so far from the strong girl I knew, tightens my heart.
I can't help but feel a lump in my throat as I watch her. My mind goes to the times we laughed together, the long and deep conversations we shared, and every moment I tried to hide what I felt for her. And now, here, seeing her like this, I feel even worse for never having found the courage to confess my feelings.
I pull the chair as close to her bed as possible, trying to offer some comfort with my proximity. I gently take her non-bandaged hand and give it a light stroke with my thumb. —Tara— I say softly, —I'm so sorry you're going through all of this.—
Her eyes shift to me, and even though they're teary, I still see strength in them. —Thank you, T/n— she murmurs gratefully. —You're here for me... and that means more than you can imagine.—
A sad smile forms on my lips as I try to find the right words. —I'm here because you matter to me, Tara. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now.— My heart beats hard in my chest, but I know now is not the time to confess everything.
I take a deep breath and try to push away the sadness that threatens to overwhelm me. —We're strong together, Tara. We'll face all of this together—My words are a commitment, a way to tell her that she'll never be alone in this fight.
I glance at her wounds again, and anger towards anyone who hurt her burns within me. But now, in this moment, my priority is to be there for her, supporting her and trying to bring some comfort to that pale face marked by fear.
Amber's entrance shatters the bubble of intimacy I tried to create around me and Tara. My gaze shifts towards her as she enters the room, but I can't help but notice the disdainful look she directs at me.
Her cutting words, laced with sarcasm, pierce the air. —Oh, look who's here. The shining knight in armor coming to rescue the damsel in distress— Her voice is a mixture of sarcasm and mockery, and I can feel the irritation she's trying to convey.
I deliberately ignore her, continuing to keep my gaze fixed on Tara. Amber can think whatever she wants, but now isn't the time for her jealousy games or taunts. I have an important person to support and protect.
Amber sits next to Tara and looks at her gently, trying to offer comfort with her gaze. I can see genuine concern in her eyes as she tries to be there for Tara. I nod slightly towards her, appreciating her effort to support my friend in such a difficult moment.
However, the sense of tension doesn't ease with Sam's arrival and the boy by her side. As soon as the boy enters the room, I immediately sense that something is off. His expressions, the way he looks around with a certain detachment... everything seems out of place.
Amber might not have noticed right away, but I can't stop watching this boy. Something about him makes me uneasy, and my attention is divided between him and Tara. I keep lightly holding Tara's hand, a silent sign of support, as I try to better understand who this boy is and what he's doing here.
Emotions swirl within me: concern for Tara, suspicion towards this boy, and a growing determination to protect my friend at all costs. I know this moment could be crucial, and I need to stay vigilant for any signs of threat that might come from him.
Sam approaches Tara with concern. —Tara, how are you? I'm so glad to see you.—
Tara smiles weakly. —I'm trying to be okay, Sam. Thank you for being here.—
Sam gestures towards the boy at her side. —This is Richie, my boyfriend. Richie, this is Tara.—
Richie smiles gently. —Hello, Tara. I'm glad to finally meet you.—
Tara returns the smile. —Hi, Richie. Thank you for coming.—
I take a step back, ready to leave them alone.
Tara urgently grabs my hand, looking at me with teary yet bright eyes. Her grip on my hand makes me pause. I look at Tara, noticing her determined expression. Words aren't needed; I can feel her need for me to stay here with her. With a reassuring smile, I nod slightly, indicating that I'll stay by her side.
—Maybe we should let her rest for a bit— Richie suggests, addressing Sam.
Sam agrees with a nod. —You're right. We'll see you outside, Tara. I'll go talk to Hicks.—
As Sam, Richie and Amber leave the room, I stay by Tara's side.
Tara timidly yawns. —Sorry, I suddenly feel so tired.—
I smile gently. —Don't worry, Tara. Maybe you should close your eyes and rest.—
Tara looks at me with sweet, indecipherable eyes. —T/n, could you... could you get in bed with me? I'd just... like to have someone close while I sleep.—
—Of course, Tara. It'll be my pleasure.—
With gentleness, I shift from the chair to the bed, careful not to disturb the bandages and tubes. I lie down beside Tara, keeping one arm under the pillow to prop myself up slightly. —Is this okay?—I ask, looking at her with concern.
Tara nods with a shy smile. —Yes, perfect. Thank you, T/n.—
Carefully, I wrap my arm around Tara, pulling her gently closer to me. We embrace tenderly, and the warmth of her body is reassuring. —Rest, Tara. I'll be here as long as you want.—
Tara closes her eyes slowly, relaxing into the embrace. —Thank you, T/n. You're truly amazing.—
—And you're an extraordinary person, Tara. Goodnight— I whisper.
As the embrace grows more intimate, tranquility fills the room. Tara can finally close her eyes and find some rest, knowing that T/n is there with her. Her breath grows calmer, and sleep gently envelops her as T/n remains by her side, protective and loving.
(...)
From the initial attack to the current situation, many weeks have passed, and things have changed drastically. The sense of normalcy has been disrupted, and trust among us has been shaken. It's hard to believe that the people I've known for so long could harbor such dark secrets.
Relationships have shifted, and every look, every word seems to be under a magnifying glass. Mindy, with her keen horror enthusiast spirit, has only fueled the existing suspicions. Whenever someone seems to step out of line, her playful voice becomes an eerie reminder of the truth lurking beneath the surface.
And then there was that conversation where she excluded Liv from suspicion. Her playful tone only heightened the tension. But in the end, every laugh was accompanied by a shade of doubt. All of us are trying to decipher the puzzle, but the pieces seem to keep changing shape.
I find myself in a situation where I need to keep an eye out for anyone who might be hiding something. The friendship we had shared has become fragile, and there's a sense of isolation I can't ignore. I wish things could go back to how they were before, but I know that reality is much more complex now.
I find myself wandering amidst doubts and uncertainties, trying to balance my fear with the need to uncover the truth. Trust has been compromised, but I hope we can find a way to overcome this situation together. Amidst suspicions and tensions, there's still a part of me clinging to the idea of restoring normalcy among us, even though the future seems dark and unpredictable.
The tension seemed to increase with each passing day, and the sense of paranoia was taking over everything. Sam, in particular, seemed more paranoid than I had ever seen her. I was deeply concerned for her, but I understood that the environment we were involved in could make even the closest people doubt.
The arrival of the old survivors of Steb in the town of Woodsboro had triggered a series of even more bewildering events. The shadow of the past seemed to envelop everything, and there was an unsettling feeling in the air. Fear was growing as we tried to figure out if this was just a coincidence or if there was a deeper connection to what we were facing.
Wed, who had feelings for Tara, was one of the initial suspects. However, fate seemed to have other plans for him. The arrival of Ghostface had led to a tragic ending for Wed and his mother, Sheriff Judy Hicks. The news of their deaths had hit all of us, and the sense of threat was reaching new levels.
My mind was a mix of worry, anger, and confusion. As I tried to navigate through suspicions, new clues, and old ghosts, I knew we had to find a way to cope with all of this together. The truth was still buried beneath a layer of secrets and lies, but we had to stay united and determined to uncover what was really happening in Woodsboro.
As I stood at the crime scene with Sam, something in the context seemed off. Observing the evidence, the atmosphere was growing even more eerie, as if there was something escaping our notice. A sense of concern grew within me, and thoughts of Tara only intensified it.
That's when I felt a shiver down my spine, like an alarm indicating that something was wrong with Tara. My eyes landed on Riley, the cop, who was approaching. Without a second thought, panic gripped me, and I ran towards him, my eyes wide with fear.
—Riley!— I called, my voice filled with anxiety. —You have to help us, you have to come to the hospital with us. Tara is in danger, I feel that something's wrong.—
Sam joined me shortly after, and together we appealed to Riley. We asked for his help sincerely, begging him to come to the hospital with us. His decision seemed to come without hesitation, agreeing to accompany us without asking questions.
Without wasting time, we headed to the hospital with Riley by our side. The run seemed endless as anxiety grew within me. Tara needed us, and I knew I couldn't allow anything to happen to her. As the tension in the air grew denser, I knew we were doing everything we could to face this challenge together, hoping to protect Tara from whatever threat surrounded her.
As we were on our way in the police car, my phone suddenly rang. My anxiety reached its peak as I checked the caller ID, and my heart filled with relief when I saw Tara's name on the screen. With a trembling breath, I quickly answered.
—Tara?— I called out, trying to keep calm despite my heart still racing. Then I heard her voice, fragmented by sobs and tears. —T/n... help— she said, and her fragile voice broke my heart.
—Tara, I'm here— I responded with a gentle and concerned voice. —We're on our way to the hospital. Stay strong.— As I continued to talk to her, my mind was filled with anguish and determination. I needed to get to her, I needed to protect her from whatever was threatening her.
And then, as Tara's words continued to flow between tears and sobs, she revealed something that left me speechless.
—I don't want to die—she whispered, and the intensity of her emotions hit me like a punch in the gut. —And especially not without ever telling you how... how much I've been in love with you for so long.—
Her words resonated within me, and the world seemed to pause for a moment. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but the sound of her broken voice was real and sincere. My heart was filled with conflicting emotions: concern for Tara, anger towards whoever hurt her, and surprise in the face of her revelations.
I apologize for the confusion. In this situation, with Ghostface present next to Tara, the idea of diverting Ghostface's attention was even more critical.
—Tara— I said firmly, —try to keep Ghostface engaged. Ask him questions, make him lose time.—
The anxiety I felt was growing even more, but I knew this was the only possible option. Tara had to do her best to keep Ghostface focused on her and out of suspecting that we were coming to save her. Our priority was to protect her, and every second counted in this critical situation. As the car headed towards the hospital, I knew we were facing a challenge that required calmness, courage, and collaboration.
—I'm coming to you, Tara— I reassured her, trying to convey all my determination and affection through my words.
—I won't let anything happen to you. And as for what you said... we can talk about it when I'm there. For now, hang in there.—
The car continued to rush towards the hospital, and Tara's words stayed with me, a fragile thread of connection between us growing amidst all this confusion and fear. We had to face this situation together, protect the truth, and above all, protect each other.
As we stepped into the elevator, the tension in the air was palpable. Sam received a call from Tara, and our hearts skipped a beat as we heard Ghostface's distorted voice on the other end of the line. His words, "Tara or her boyfriend," echoed in our ears like a dark threat. Anxiety mingled with anger as we listened to those sinister words.
I saw Sam frantically press the button for Tara's floor, her face expressing determination and a sort of challenge towards Ghostface. When I heard his taunting grin and her bold response, I couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for her strength. It was clear she was trying to buy time, to keep Ghostface at bay as much as possible.
—Maybe I'm wasting your time, asshole— Sam said firmly, openly defying Ghostface.
The elevator doors opened in a moment of palpable tension. The cop, Riley, had managed to intervene, firing towards Ghostface. The echo of the gunshot filled the air, as fear and adrenaline seemed to mix in a whirlwind of emotions. The bullet missed the target, but its effect was tangible: Ghostface moved away from Tara, momentarily distracted by the sudden threat.
Without hesitation, Sam and I rushed towards Tara. The adrenaline coursing through our veins fueled every step we took. In an instinctive move, I lifted Tara in my arms as if she were a bride, holding her gently yet firmly. The sensation of her fragile body in my arms made me feel a mix of protectiveness and urgency. We needed to get to the elevator, away from Ghostface and any danger threatening us.
Richie, who had been assisted by Riley, joined us as we headed towards the elevator. The cop ensured that the situation was under control, allowing us to focus on Tara. The path to the elevator seemed endless, but each step took us further away from the threat.
Tara clung to me in the embrace, and I felt her ragged breath against me. The warmth of her body against mine reassured me that she was safe, that we were finally moving towards a place where she could receive proper care.
The sensation of her embrace strengthened my commitment to keeping her safe, to doing everything in my power to make her feel protected.
Finally, we reached the elevator, and the doors opened for us. As the elevator closed, I noticed that Riley wasn't entering with us. I barely heard his words— "the head"—a warning that seemed to escape his lips in a breath. His next move was clear: he loaded his weapon and headed towards Ghostface, ready to confront the threat directly.
The emotions that swept through my body at that moment were a mix of apprehension and admiration. Riley was risking his life to face the danger and protect us. His determination struck me deeply, and I felt a knot of gratitude tighten in my throat. We were all united in this challenge, each with our role to play in ensuring our safety.
As the elevator continued to descend, I knew that Tara's fate, all of our fates, hung by a thread. But we were determined to do everything in our power to come out of it, to defeat Ghostface and shed light on all this darkness. Holding Tara even tighter, I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to gather courage and hope as we headed into the unknown.
Sitting in Tara's hospital room, Sam and I found ourselves in a quiet corner. I looked at Tara with concern and said firmly—Tara, I know you want to get out of here as soon as possible, but you have to consider your safety. Running away might be the best solution right now.—
Tara looked at Sam and then at me, anxiety evident in her eyes. —I know I just want to forget all this— she said with a trembling voice, —but it seems so risky to stay here. What if Ghostface finds us again?—
—I understand— Sam responded—but maybe we should consider the possibility of leaving the town for a while. We could go somewhere where Ghostface won't easily find us.—
Just as we were about to leave the facility, we encountered Sidney Prescott and Gale, two survivors of experiences similar to ours.
Sidney followed Sam with concern.
—Running away might not be the solution. I've learned that Ghostface will always come back unless we confront him once and for all.—
—Are you asking us to help you kill him? Are you crazy?— Sam asked, confused.
—Hey, be careful how you talk, young lady. She's the original, you know? The first survivor of Ghostface...— Gale said, joining her friend.
The car with Richie at the wheel arrives. —Um... hi, I'm Richie... we've met before...— he closes his eyes and sighs. —Sam, T/n, get in... we're leaving.–
I looked at Tara with shining eyes and sighed as I opened the car door, sitting down beside her. —I'm sorry, but we have to leave town... it's for Tara's safety—Sam said, and then got into the car.
During the journey, I felt Tara's proximity. Every brush of her fingers against mine sent a shiver along my skin, and when I glanced at her, I noticed her shy and uncertain expression. Her gaze seemed to hold a world of unspoken thoughts.
My heart beat faster, knowing there was something she wanted to share with me. I accepted her touch, trying to convey reassurance through that contact. —Tara—I said gently, —if there's something you want to say, you can. We're here together.—
Her shyness was palpable, but she finally found the courage to speak. —I told you on the phone that I didn't want to die without telling you... without telling you that I've had feelings for you for a long time.— Her voice was barely a whisper, but her words resonated in my heart like a sweet and intense melody.
I kept my gaze on her, trying to communicate that I was listening carefully and that her words mattered to me. I felt a delicate smile form on my lips. —Tara—I replied, —you don't know how grateful I am to hear these words from you. I too... have had feelings for you for a long time.—
Our gazes met in a moment of deep connection. It was a secret we had kept hidden for too long, and now that we were facing this threat together, it seemed like the right time to confront our feelings as well. I felt that our bond was further strengthening in that moment, and I knew that no matter what the future held, we would face it all together.
I felt the gentle touch of Tara's bandaged hand on my cheek. It was such a sweet and intimate gesture that seemed to envelop us in a protective bubble, isolating us from the outside world. Despite her wounds, Tara still found the strength to seek my touch, to share that moment of intimacy.
I felt overwhelmed by emotions, by thoughts that I had kept hidden for so long. It was incredible how everything was coming together in that moment: the danger we were facing, the feelings we were revealing, and the sense of unity that was binding us even more.
Despite our intense private moment, I knew that Richie and Sam were there, curious eyes watching through the rearview mirror. I decided to ignore those glances and focus solely on Tara. Our connection was what mattered, and nothing could tarnish that shared intimacy.
I felt my heart beat with a certain urgency as I continued driving along the road. Every now and then, a small smile appeared on my lips, a reflection of the happiness and gratitude I was feeling in that moment. I couldn't predict what lay ahead in the future, but I knew that regardless of everything, we would face every challenge together, our bond growing stronger and our hearts open to whatever the future would bring.
Tara's smile was like a sweet melody, a prelude to what was about to happen. As she leaned in closer to me, I felt my heart beat with a mixture of excitement and tenderness. Her lips met mine in a sweet and deep kiss, and it seemed like the world around us dissolved, leaving just the two of us.
It was a kiss filled with emotions and meaning, a way to express everything we were experiencing in that moment. It was as if our feelings were being transmitted through that intimate contact, saying things that words alone couldn't convey. Her lips were warm and soft against mine, and I surrendered to that moment of sweetness.
During the kiss, I felt Tara shifting, as if she was trying to find a more comfortable position. It was then that I realized she was freeing herself from the seatbelt. I saw her straddle my lap, and I smiled against her lips. It was a bold and intimate gesture, but I felt that our bond made it perfectly natural.
We continued to kiss, our contact growing more intense and the world around us fading even more. We were united in that moment, connected by deep feelings and a bond that seemed to transcend time and space. Nothing else mattered except the two of us and the kiss we shared, a kiss that seemed to encapsulate everything we felt for each other. Richie's sudden cough interrupted our kiss, causing us to break apart with a mixture of embarrassment and smiles. Tara's cheeks were flushed, and her lips slightly swollen from the passionate kiss. We locked eyes, her gaze bright and full of emotion, and I felt my heart beat with uncontainable joy.
—Sorry— Richie said with a small embarrassed smile —but it seemed like you were so focused that I could have driven for miles without you noticing anything.—
Tara and I exchanged a knowing look and then burst into laughter together. It was true, we had become so lost in our own world that everything else seemed to fade away. Now, with our cheeks warm from embarrassment and our hearts still racing, we realized the absurdity of the situation.
—That was a bit embarrassing, wasn't it?— I said with a playful smile, turning to Tara.
Her lips curved into a shy smile as she nodded. —Yes, but it was also... nice.—
I felt a wave of affection for her as I knew that we had shared such an intimate moment together.
—Where's my inhaler?— Tara's worried voice filled the car as she began frantically searching her bag. I could feel the tension growing in the air as she looked anxiously inside her bag, hoping to find her precious inhaler. It was clear that she was realizing that her inhaler wasn't with her, and her agitation was palpable.
Sam turned slightly in her seat, looking at Tara with empathy. —Maybe you left it at the hospital by accident?— she suggested, trying to find a rational explanation.
Tara shook her head, continuing to search. —No, I'm sure I put it in my bag before leaving the hospital— she said with an anxious voice.
I turned to her, trying to convey a sense of calm. —Maybe it slipped between the seats?— I suggested, thinking of every possibility.
Tara leaned down to look under her seat, but she didn't seem to find anything. Her expression was a mix of frustration and concern. —I can't believe I forgot my inhaler— she said with a sigh.
—Take a deep breath— I said, trying to reassure her.
Tara suddenly brightened as she remembered something. —Wait, I have a spare inhaler at Amber's house!— she exclaimed with a hopeful expression.
The news shed light on the situation, and a sigh of relief spread through the car. Sam and I exchanged a reassuring look, reassured by the fact that there was a solution available. —Seriously?— I asked, seeking confirmation.
Tara nodded with a smile. —Yes, I remember leaving it there a while ago— she said. —It's been a bit chaotic, and I didn't think I'd need it out here.—
—That's good news then— Sam commented, visibly relieved.
—Absolutely— I agreed, gently taking Tara's hand and giving them both a reassuring smile. —Let's go to Amber's and get your spare inhaler. We don't want you to have any issues because of this situation.—
Tara nodded, visibly grateful for our support. The road ahead of us seemed less complicated now that we had a solution. Tara's safety and comfort were our priority, and we knew we would do everything in our power to ensure she was safe and well. With a lighter heart, we continued our journey to Amber's house, ready to face whatever challenges awaited us.
***
As soon as we entered Amber's house, we were greeted by a whirlwind of sounds and movements. Music blared loudly, while people laughed and danced. It was clear that a party was in full swing in honor of Wes, which seemed to add another layer of complexity to the already tense situation. As we moved through the crowd, I kept an eye on Tara, making sure she was okay amidst all the chaos.
All around us, people seemed oblivious to the tensions and worries that were happening in our lives. It was strange to see the normalcy of a party amidst all this, but somehow, it also helped to take our minds off the difficulties we were facing.
Richie spoke up, grabbing the attention of Sam and Tara. His voice cut through the music and the party noise. —A bit of attention, please— he said seriously. —Sam and Tara have been attacked twice by the killer. I think it's best that everyone goes home for your safety.—
There were various murmurs of disapproval, but they obeyed the request and started leaving the house, leaving only Tara's friends and Richie behind.
Tara looked at me with a small smile before turning to Amber. —I'm going to get my spare inhaler—she said. Amber nodded. —I'll come with you— she offered, walking alongside her toward the stairs.
I found myself walking down a corridor, seeking some space and tranquility. As I walked, I noticed Mindy in a rather interesting situation: she was kissing a girl on a couch.
Their intimacy seemed to contrast with the overall situation, but I knew that everyone was seeking a small escape from reality in different ways. The situation took a turn when Richie intervened, asking the girl to leave. It was clear that Richie was concerned about everyone's safety, and his reaction was understandable given the circumstances.
—Um, can someone accompany me to the basement?— Richie timidly asked, gripping the doorknob.
I shook my head, and Mindy smiled nervously. —You tried, handsome, but I'm not going down there—Mindy smiled, and Richie chuckled weakly. —You're right... you know, with the Ghostface situation...— he murmured before opening the door and descending the stairs.
I sat down next to Mindy, trying to create a small moment of calm and tranquility amidst all the tension. Our gaze landed on the screen, where "Steb," the movie he was playing, was showing. Mindy seemed to be enjoying making fun of the characters' choices and naivety, perhaps seeking a temporary escape from the troubled reality surrounding us.
Watching the movie together, I could almost forget for a moment the worries we were facing. It was as if we had entered a different world, far from the horrors we had experienced and the complex interpersonal dynamics emerging. The sound of laughter and the flicker of the screen seemed like an anchor of normalcy in a time when everything seemed topsy-turvy.
Mindy seemed to enjoy the playful aspect of the film, laughing heartily at some situations and character choices. Her laughter was a small glimmer of lightness in an otherwise tense situation. Observing Mindy, I realized how important it was to find ways to lighten the weight of the emotions we were dealing with.
The scene suddenly turned into overwhelming chaos when Mindy turned and found herself face-to-face with Ghostface, poised to strike. Without thinking twice, I instinctively moved between Mindy and the killer, taking a stab to the shoulder that made me emit a groan of pain. Confusion and fear gripped the room.
Mindy and Sam rushed toward me with concern, trying to calm me down and assess the severity of the wound. Blood was flowing from my shoulder, and the sensation of pain spread throughout my body.
Tara and Amber joined the scene, with Tara struggling on crutches due to her injuries. Her eyes expressed concern as she approached me, trying to understand how badly hurt I was.
Amber, on the other hand, observed the scene with curiosity and suspicion. —I don't know what you were all doing, but I was with Tara— she said agitatedly.
Amidst all this, Richie made his sudden entrance. —Where the hell were you?— Sam asked him agitatedly, looking at him with panic. —I was getting a beer! But no one wanted to come with me— he muttered agitatedly.
The situation became even more tumultuous when Liv entered the room again, this time crying out of stress and fear. Her hands were stained with blood, an image that struck all of us with a sense of terror and unease. It was evident that the situation was spiraling out of control, and danger seemed to be surrounding us from all sides.
—Stay back!—Amber whispered, and Liv continued to cry. —I found Chad— she said amidst tears.
—Chad?—Sam asked timidly.
—You're a damn liar!—Amber said with disgust.
—No!—Liv denied, shaking her head.
—You're the killer!— Richie said.
—No, it's not me...— Liv mumbled in panic.
—Liv, stop— Amber said, extending her hands toward Liv.
—Liv, stop!— Amber repeated impatiently.
—Fuck you, Amber. I'm not the damn killer—Liv muttered, emphasizing each word.
My eyes landed on Amber's hand, disappearing behind her, retrieving something. —I know— Amber replied, and my eyes widened when I saw Tara's best friend place a bullet in the middle of Liv's forehead.
—Welcome to Act Three— Amber said, pointing the gun at me.
Mindy, who was close by, struck Amber's arm, deflecting the shot.
The shoulder wound was painful, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins gave me the strength to scoop Tara up and seek shelter. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sam and Richie heading toward the basement, while Mindy seemed to be busy distracting Amber. It was an atmosphere of chaos and panic, but I had to focus on keeping Tara safe and addressing the situation.
With quick and silent steps, I climbed the stairs to the upper floor, carrying Tara with me. We found refuge in a room, and without hesitation, we squeezed ourselves into a relatively small closet. As my heart raced, I placed a hand over Tara's mouth to quiet her and urged her to slow her breath. The silence in that cramped space was stifling, but I knew it was necessary to avoid attracting the killer's attention.
I felt Tara's rapid heartbeat against my hand, and her eyes were filled with fear.
—Tara, I know you want me to stay here with you, but I need to go down and try to resolve the situation outside.—
Tara shook her head. —No, T/n, I can't let you go. I'm afraid you'll get hurt, that you might end up like Wes.—
I gently held her face in my hands. —Tara, I promise I'll be careful. I don't want to put myself in danger, but I also have a duty to help others. We need to find a solution to this situation.—
Tara squinted her eyes slightly. —I don't care about the others right now, I only care about you. I don't want to lose you.—
I held her hand and looked into her eyes. —Tara, I understand how worried you are, but I can't let anyone get hurt. I'll try to come back to you as soon as I can. You have to promise me that you'll stay safe here.—
—I can't promise that if I don't know what will happen. T/n, I don't know what I would do if something happened to you—Tara said with a trembling voice.
—Listen, I know it's difficult, but I have faith in you. If something goes wrong, try to find a safe place to hide. And when I come back, we'll be together again. Don't let fear make you take irrational decisions.—
Our gaze locked, and in the silence filled with emotions, Tara leaned closer to me. Our breaths mingled, and I felt her gentle touch on my cheek as she drew closer. Her kiss was intense, as if she wanted to convey everything she was feeling at that moment.
I felt every part of me respond to that needy and meaningful kiss. It was as if we wanted to share everything we felt for each other, in case we didn't have another chance. Our lips moved with passion and tenderness, and as we parted, I could read everything in her glistening eyes.
—Come back to me— she whispered, and I could hear the concern and longing in her voice.
—I promise I'll be back— I replied, trying to convey all the determination and affection I felt.
We exchanged an intense and meaningful gaze before I slowly pulled away to descend the stairs. I had a mission to complete, but the thought of Tara and her warm embrace would accompany me in every step I took.
I hurriedly descended the stairs.
The scene in front of me was unfolding incredibly fast and violent. Confusion mixed with horror as Sam pointed the gun at Amber, Sydney urged her to shoot, and Richie approached with determined steps.
My heart was racing as I tried to comprehend what was happening.
—Thank God you're okay— Richie's words resonated in the room, and I felt myself freeze. With wide eyes, I helplessly witnessed the horrifying scene: the knife lodged in Sam's side, Richie embracing her, making the situation even more dreadful. —Because I wanted it to be me to kill you—Sam whispered almost breathlessly.
Richie's gaze shifted to me.
—Don't move, T/A— I remained frozen in place as I saw him aiming the gun at me.
Sydney stared at me in panic.
Richie handed the gun to Amber, causing her to point it at Sydney's temple. —Come here if you don't want me to kill Tara— Amber whispered seriously.
Reluctantly, I approached.
Amber struck me in the face with the gun's butt, causing a cut on my eyebrow.
—I can't believe it worked...— Richie said, smiling, revealing the inhaler that Tara had lost. —I know... it's a pity it's me— Richie said with gleaming eyes, tossing the inhaler to the ground. —But it was the best thing for the movie— he added, using a voice distorter.
—This isn't a damn movie— Sam muttered through clenched teeth. —I know... but it will be— Richie said, smiling.
—Right, Amber?— Sam's ex-boyfriend asked playfully.
—Absolutely, darling. Third-act bloodbath. Done—Amber said, smiling, pressing the gun against Sydney's temple. —Killers revealed. Done— Amber murmured next, looking at me with gleaming eyes.
Pouting, the girl aimed the gun at my legs and shot me.
The pain hit me suddenly, like a lightning bolt tearing through my body. My legs gave way beneath me, and I fell to the ground, feeling the sharp, throbbing burn radiating through me. The entire world seemed to slow down, and my breath became labored as I tried to grapple with that excruciating sensation.
My hands clenched around my legs, searching for any point of support. Tears welled up in my eyes from the pain and surprise. I couldn't believe what was happening. I looked at Amber, trying to fathom the reason behind that violent and senseless act.
—Why?— I managed to whisper, my voice cracking from pain and confusion. My mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions: anger, fear, betrayal. I couldn't fathom how anyone could inflict such pain on another human being.
I hoped someone would intervene, put an end to this madness. As the agony consumed me, my gaze met Sydney's. I pleaded for help with my eyes, imploring someone to halt everything before irreparable harm was done.
—Let's take them to the kitchen— Amber murmured, ignoring my question. I struggled to stand and followed them, blinded by pain.
—Someone needs to save the franchise— Richie exclaimed with enthusiasm. —No one's made a Steb film after the first— Richie pushed Sam. —No one at all— he affirmed, giving me a kick.
I gritted my teeth and tried to hold back tears.
Amber jumped up and down excitedly. —Darling, could you fetch Gale?—Richie asked kindly, pointing the gun at Sam. —I'm going!— the psychopath muttered enthusiastically.
Sam tried to escape, but Richie stopped her.
—Sydney Prescott...— Richie murmured with a smile on his lips. —You know... I'm a big admirer of yours— he timidly exclaimed.
—Screw you, psycho— Sydney retorted venomously.
—Did you watch the latest Steb?— Richie asked, tilting his head. —I don't like horror movies— Sydney replied.
—Well, anyway, it was awful... Is it possible they don't take us seriously because we're enthusiasts? Is it possible they won't listen to us?— Richie said angrily. —So we decided to lend a hand... you know... a real Steb is based on real events— he added, pointing the gun at Sam.
Amber arrived with Gale and had her sit on a chair.
—Did you do all this to make me the hero of your stupid movie?— Sam asked disgustedly.
—Darling... you're not the hero... you're the villain— Richie said playfully.
—The daughter of Billy Loomis, haunted by eerie visions of her killer father— Richie murmurs, placing the tip of the gun against Sam's throat. —Sydney Prescott killed your father... you... did all of this to bring her back to Woodsboro—Richie smiles at Sam.
—Do you know what the main problem with Steb films is?— Amber says innocently, playing with the gun.
—That there's no Michael Myers or Jason Voorhees— Amber moves the gun along Sydney's face. —No recurring villain in all the movies— she states with a smile.
—But the illegitimate daughter of the original villain? Now that's one damn good villain—she whispers with a chuckle.
—How do you know?—Sam asked.
—Darling... this is a small town, and your mother is a drunk— Amber said, amused.
—I met Richie on Steb forums... I immediately realized we think alike... I had this obsession when my parents bought this house— Amber said.
—Wasn't it difficult to find you in Modesto— Richie sneered. —Sleeping with you wasn't hard either— he muttered weakly.
—Fuck you!— Sam exclaimed angrily. —So you're just quoting the original— Richie said with amusement.
—We didn't only need you, Sam... but we had to bring back the main Steb characters— Amber said.
My eyes shifted to the knife on the table.
—You can't have Halloween without a Jamie Lee!—Amber said excitedly.
—That's why we had to kill Riley— Richie said, —for once we enthusiasts will win.— Richie approaches Sydney. —And I'm sorry, Sid. But you'll have to die... we can't let you survive anymore... it would be ridiculous— Richie muttered.
— Amber, go get Tara from the closet. We need to set up the bodies— Richie said with a smile.
Amber hesitated in place.
—Did you put her in the closet?— she timidly asked, and Richie gave her a furious look. —No, you were supposed to! Damn it! Go find her!—the guy said, clearly angry.
The phone began to ring.
—It's for you— I said with a half-smile on my lips. —Yes... as if Tara's limp was the problem— Richie said, amused.
—Amber, look for her everywhere! She couldn't have gone far!— Richie yelled, pointing the gun at Sam.
—I can't find her!— Amber's screams echoed in the distance.
Sounds of struggle in the distance distracted Richie. After Sam tackled him to the ground and attempted to disarm him, she finally managed to take the gun from him and escape to another room, taking one of the two Ghostfaces with her.
Meanwhile, Gale and Sydney confronted Amber, given my inability to walk. Despite their hostile and dangerous opponent, Gale and Sydney embarked on confronting Amber and trying to control the situation. With a seemingly inexplicable force of will, I managed to lift myself off the ground despite the searing pain. I grabbed a bottle of hand sanitizer and, without wasting time, hurled it at Amber with all the remaining energy I had. The liquid hit her body, and I heard her scream in pain as she recoiled, temporarily defeated. Gale and Sydney seized the opportunity, stepping in with determination to fight her. At that moment, I realized that my determination was becoming a crucial factor in this battle against Amber.
—I didn't do anything! It was his idea!—Amber exclaimed in panic after being cornered.
—You killed Riley, my friend—Gale said, aiming the gun at Amber.
—And he cried like a child— Amber said with a smile, provoking Gale's anger.
The fight continued, and after being cornered once again, Gale decided not to fall for it and shot at Amber. The girl fell against the kitchen and caught fire.
Sydney put an arm around my waist and led me out, seeing that Sam had killed Richie in the meantime.
Still in shock from the unexpected turn of events, a piercing scream echoed from the kitchen. I turned around in panic and saw Amber, half-burned, advancing towards me with a knife in hand. Everything seemed to be heading for the worst, but a sudden gunshot rang through the air, and Amber fell to the ground, motionless.
—Don't touch my girlfriend, you bitch— Tara said breathlessly, gripping the gun tightly.
Comments please
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rocknrollflames · 1 month
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GNR Photos as GNR Songs
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Don't Cry
To me, the first picture is the most representative - or at least suits the song the best. There are unfortunately no photos of Monique Lewis with Axl, Izzy, or any members of GNR (as far as I know).
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jigencaps · 6 months
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jezcat-18 · 25 days
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Duff's sexy shirts (older/current Duff) 🥵🥵🥵
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nothatsmi · 23 days
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Hi there!! I just re-watched ur aftg and trc animatics for the millionth time and I have to ask about ur music taste! It sounds so cool!!! Maybe your spotify if ur ok with that?
I have. Never been. Happiest- I entertain a HUGE love for music, it's my very life, the heart of my being, the blood of my veins...
I like a lot of different music genres, but my favorite is probably alt. rock? Hard to choose. My top would be Muse, but I absolutely adore Autoheart, Mika, Scorpions, Supertramp, The Neighbourhood, Gibran Alcocer, Her's... (and many more)
I do have a Spotify I use a lot, feel free to take a look, username is nothatsmi as always, but you can use this link: https://open.spotify.com/user/fcd4ewy0vamvz29g6qc091zk0?si=b3909e9ad6de4ec8
On my spotify I will advise this short playlist named "To indeed be a god!" if you want to know my tastes, it only contains my very favorite songs: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0LHN4QeKTJWqLbToLI62jY?si=f65002e81d9d476e
Anyway. I could ramble about this for so long...
Thank you sm for asking, I'm glad you like what I do :)
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Do You Love Me - The Contours
Izzy Stradlin and Steven Adler
♥️ Yes ... we love you ... ♥️
youtube
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abirdhouseinyoursoul · 6 months
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Just a friendly reminder that, THE GOOD OMENS MUSICAL IS A THING THAT EXISTS.
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LOOK AT THEMMM AAAGHHHH‼️‼️‼️
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axlrosebaby · 8 months
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no just listen to me. guns n roses. fucking listen close. guns. n. roses.
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nikossfwfics · 5 months
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Three Simple Words [Slaxl]
BCDXUGFCGCHG I FORGOT I WROTE THIS AND I'M CRYING
*************************
"Slash?" Axl whisper- yelled "slash, are you awake?"
No response.
They had been dating for almost 7 months now, and yet no one had managed to let go those three simple words. The words lingered on thier tounges like a sweet taste, begging to be let go, but they both thought it would be too early and didnt want to scare the other off. Meanwhile on this cold night axl had gathered all his courage to say it, even if slash wasnt awake to hear.
He sighed. "I love you...." he said under his breath, taking time to admire the younger males facial features. With those words spilling out of his mouth he felt freed.
The next day slash woke up first, but decided to stay by his lovers side. Axl arose with a loud yawn, streching his arms up high.
"Goodmorning." He smiled rubbing his eye tierdly
Slash just greeted him with a sudden passtionate kiss, placing his hands on either side of his face.
"Wha- what was that for?" Axl laughed lazily.
"i love you too." Slash breathed
"Oh... you heard that..." axl said embarrassed, as he rubbed the back of his neck.
"Yeah..." slash went to answer but was interupted with a pair of soft plump lips on his.
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vincess-princess · 3 months
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in darkness shall you be reborn
Chapter 15
Word count: 2789 Warnings: some blood A/N: rejoice, for i am almost done with college (for this semester) and have much more time and energy, hence this chapter. consider it a christmas present <3
By the time the potato fortress was demolished, the bandage on Vince’s shoulder had grown soggy and heavy, and underneath dumb pain accompanied every Vince’s movement, occasionally sharpening into spikes. When Mick turned away to fiddle with the pot on the stove, Vince unbuttoned his shirt and peeled off the three-day-old bandage.
The wound didn’t look promising, with the skin between the stitches red and inflamed, and the thread dark and wet with blood. If it had been healing, the process surely was disrupted. This really begged for a doctor, but he had just refused to do that to Mick’s face, so going to a surgeon would mean admitting defeat, and Vince had enough of it today. Besides, while death of infection wasn’t among the ways to kill himself that he considered, but for lack of alternatives…
A hand grasped his forearm, startling him. The bandage fell onto the ground with an audible plop. Not paying that any mind, Mick silently dragged him to the door and then along the corridor to the sick bay. Vince didn’t resist. It made sense with Nikki. Not with Mick.
Izzy the surgeon wasn’t alone. A familiar redhead was sitting on the bunk in the sick bay and sipping beer from a mug. There was a talk in hushed voices going on, but it was, naturally, stopped as Mick barged in without a knock and unceremoniously shoved Vince inside.
“Take care of this idiot before I do,” he only said and, not sparing Vince another look, slammed the door shut.
“Wow.” Axl raised an eyebrow. “Never seen the old man so pissed. What did you do, hump his guitar?”
“I wish,” Vince jerked his shoulder, annoyed, but then the pain in it flared up, making him wince. Izzy the surgeon frowned, and Vince belatedly remembered he wasn’t supposed to disclose his and Axl’s connection to anyone on the ship. Well, that one reply didn’t mean anything, right?
“You got him so angry and didn’t even use the chance to hump his guitar?” Axl continued, making Izzy snort. That was the first time Vince heard him make a sound since he dryly informed him about that same shoulder wound during his first visit to sick bay.
“You seem unhealthily fixated on it, should I tell Mick to lock it up at night?” Vince replied half-mindedly, eyeing the surgeon nervously. Stopping in the middle of a conversation now would seem stranger than continuing it. Izzy, however, observed the battle of wits with no sign of surprise. No sign of anything, really. It was hard to see his eyes at all underneath the long, greasy hair and in the dim light of the sick bay.
“Oh, so he doesn’t lock her up?” Axl grinned. “Pray tell, where does he keep her?”
“Whatever you’re thinking of, I wouldn’t recommend it. You try to cross the galley’s threshold at night, you’re getting an early breakfast. Of lead.”
“Really? Does he also shoot at you when you go out for a piss?”
Vince nodded. He might have exaggerated Mick’s reaction a bit, to keep any night eaters’ hopes low. Just a bit, though, because anyone breaking down the closed door at night was guaranteed a couple extra holes.
“Oh you poor thing, can’t even go take a leak?” Axl didn’t sound too pitiful, more amused, and that felt good.
“Oh, I can. You don’t want to know where, though.”
“Ew-w-w!” Even Izzy couldn’t hold back a cry of disgust. Vince took it as his little personal victory. He had already learned that the reaction to this type of humor was deceptive. If the pirates didn’t love the joke, they wouldn’t say anything at all, and that silence could kill faster than staying in the same room with a dozen pirates who had beans for dinner. “Yeah, I’ll think twice before eating anything from the galley now.”
“Think as much as you want, you’ll eat it anyway. May I?” Without waiting for an answer, Vince reached out for Axl’s unfinished mug of beer and finished it off in two gulps. Watching Axl’s jaw loosen in indignation was quite entertaining. And reassuring, because whatever Nikki had said, those two treated him rather decently so far, even when he obviously overstepped the boundaries.
“You recovered rather quickly,” another voice said from behind Vince’s back. Izzy. “Surprising.”
“Really?” Vince abruptly turned on his heels towards Izzy. His face gave no indication of whether the last comment was meant positively or negatively, but Vince had a feeling that if it was the latter, the surgeon wouldn’t initiate the talk at all. “Why?”
“Well,” one corner of Izzy’s mouth curved ever so slightly, “last time you were here, you were trembling like a leaf and couldn’t string two words together. I didn’t expect you’d last the night.”
Not a muscle had moved in the surgeon’s face, but he tilted his head to the left slightly… it might have been the dim light of the sick bay and the shadows of Izzy’s hair falling on his face, but the nothingness of his face had an ironic undertone now.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well, you were rather… distraught. You lost everything you had, including your vir… dignity. You don’t look the hardy type to me, and that would be the easiest way out.”
“Well, it wasn’t,” Vince said in a strangled voice. “If I die, I die of this infection that Mick dragged me here for. Stop talking nonsense and deal with it instead.”
“Hey, drop that tone,” Axl demanded, his voice suddenly stern. “Order your servants around with it- oh right, you don’t have any. Nobody owes you anything anymore.”
“Ax, relax,” Izzy said lazily, rising from his chair. “Old habits slip through in everyone sometimes. You, for example, still can’t take a shit when there’s someone else on the poop deck, and captain still expects us to know what minuet is. Shirt off.” That last one was addressed to Vince, who hastily pulled his shirt over his head. Izzy grabbed a candle and leaned forward, examining the wound, the candle so close Vince could feel the heat with his skin. He sure hoped Izzy’s hand wouldn’t slip.
“Let’s see… Haven’t I fixed it before? Yeah, those are my stitches… holy shit. It takes an effort to fuck up my work this badly. What you been doing with them?”
“Not me,” Vince said gloomily.
“Ah.” No emotion on the pale face once again. It contrasted especially starkly with Axl’s grimace on the background. “Well, tell the captain that if he keeps that up, he might lose his favorite whipping boy in a couple of months at best. This one looks fixable, but if they add up it’s gonna get real bad.”
“If I tell him that, it will take much less than a couple months.” Vince much preferred when they discussed his night pissing accommodations.
“C’mon, it’s not in his interest. It’s not like you can find pretty captives on every ship you raid. It was three years between you and Axl. Pretty boys don’t usually go seafaring – for obvious reasons.”
“But Axl said-“ Vince turned to the redhead, then caught himself. Izzy seemed aware, but to what extent?
“Yeah, he got luckier than you. Doesn’t mean that wasn’t one of the reasons,” Izzy interrupted him. Ah, so he was fully aware. Interesting that Axl didn’t consider it worthwhile to tell him about their little club. “Ax, get off the bunk. I’m gonna have to stitch him anew. Here, lie down.”
He pressed on Vince’s shoulder, pushing him to lie onto his back, then opened a cabinet and extracted a bottle of water out of it and a surgeon’s kit.
“Hold this.” He handed Vince the water. As Vince discovered three seconds later, it was actually vodka. A shitty painkiller, but better than nothing.
“Hey!” Izzy caught Vince red-handed sipping out of the bottle. “You parasite! That’s for medical purposes. Give that to me.”
“I’m self-medicating!” Vince protested, reluctantly handing back the bottle. The only upside of vodka was that it didn’t take much of it to get piss drunk, though, so he wasn’t too upset about the loss.
“For external use!”
“Why? If you want to clean the wound with it, why not just use water? And I could find a better use for this heavenly beverage.”
“Are you telling me how to do my job? Maybe you’ll patch yourself up too then and save everyone the trouble?” Izzy gave Vince a blank stare that impressed him more than any frown Axl could master. “No? Then don’t act all smart here. Stretch out the arm.”
He got down onto his knees next to the bunk and leaned close to the wound, carefully stretching the skin a little to get a better look at it. Then he cut the thread with small scissors and abruptly pulled it out.
“Ouch!”
“Don’t be such a pussy,” Izzy rolled his eyes. “At least, not more than you already are.”
Vince wouldn’t have swallowed the insult so meekly if the surgeon wasn’t just about the only person capable of fixing his wound. Without the thread the torn edges of the wound widened, exposing black, clotted blood inside. Vince winced.
“Could be worse,” Izzy waved him off. “It just started to inflame. I don’t see any pus there so far.” Then he pulled out a patch of fabric and the aforementioned vodka bottle and, before Vince managed to realise what was happening, poured vodka all over it.
A second passed, and then Vince threw his head back with a howl as the liquid burned exposed flesh and the skin around it. Izzy promptly pressed the fabric to the wound, pushing Vince back onto the bunk, and held him down as he cursed and hissed. Then he began cleaning out the dried blood with the cloth, and Vince discovered he knew even more curse words than he thought. Thankfully, he did the job quickly enough for Vince to only cycle through his collection of curses three times.
“This should be a torture technique!” he protested once he was again capable of coherent speech. “Wouldn’t water do the job just as well?”
“No.” Izzy threw the bloody cloth on the floor. “Over my years of practice I discovered that the wounds cleaned with vodka or other highly alcoholic beverages have much lower chance of inflaming. And you need that chance. I can’t really chop off a shoulder in case there’s a gangrene.”
Vince, realizing this was a real possibility, went quiet. Izzy, meanwhile, grabbed a needle, threaded it and then dipped it into the flame of the candle. For a second Vince believed the thread would catch fire, but Izzy knew what he was doing. After a couple minutes of this he removed it, tried to touch it with his fingers, cursed under his breath and blew onto the blunt tip. When it presumably cooled enough, he grabbed the needle and lowered himself onto a stool next to the bed.
“Now hold still. You fidget too much, I’ll have to ask Axl to pin you down.”
“You don’t want that,” Axl, who until now had been observing the scene with an interest one would express to a circus performance, confirmed from the back.
“Aren’t you going to wait until the needle cools down?” Vince asked warily.
“No. It will hurt anyway.” With that, Izzy began to stitch.
The stab wound was small and only took him a few minutes to stitch up, but to Vince they were hours. He gripped the edge of the bed so tightly his fingers went numb, and bit his lips so hard he drew blood. But, for the first time on the Shout, the pain was inflicted without a purpose to hurt, and so he kept silent, save for an occasional pained gasp.
“All done.” Izzy rose from his stool and wiped his bloody fingers and the needle with a towel. “And you didn’t have to be all tough and manly about it. Crying actually helps relieve the pain.”
“Yeah, so you get more excuses to call me a pussy?” Vince huffed, sitting up on the bunk and putting his feet onto the floor. His bloodied knees poked out of his pants, drawing a disproportionate amount of attention.
“Whoa, man,” Axl whistled in amazement, “you seen his knees? To fucking shreds! The blowjob must have been insane.”
Izzy raised his eyebrows. “Huh. The captain sure doesn’t fuck around. You might want to get these cleaned and bandaged, though.”
“I might, if you two stop talking bollocks,” Vince said through gritted teeth.
“That’s only in your interest,” Izzy shrugged, wetting a cloth with vodka and handing it to him. “These can get infected too.”
“I- ouch!- know.” Vince dabbed the cloth onto one knee, then another. He didn’t even have to take off his pants for that, which was convenient.
“Any other injuries I should know about?”
“None that I recall,” Vince said curtly.
“Man, if that’s just his knees, imagine what the captain is doing to his ass,” Axl said from behind Izzy’s back. “Maybe he’s just too shy to ask you about it.”
“If you don’t shut up, I will do something much worse to your ass,” Vince promised.
“Oh-oh, so scary.” Axl threw his hands up in pretended surrender, but had to cut the act short to dodge from the candle holder Vince hurled at him. He promptly picked it up to throw it back, but Izzy was quicker.
“Stop that right now!” He snatched the candle holder from Axl’s hand. “I won’t tolerate a mess in my workplace!” For the first time Vince heard an actual emotion in his voice – anger. “Rose, get the hell out!”
“Hey! He started that!” Axl protested.
“I don’t care. He needs my services, and you’re here just to gawk. Get out or I’ll make you.” The surgeon was thinner and lighter than Axl, but Vince didn’t doubt for a second that he could easily do that. Axl seemed to be of the same opinion, because he got up and disappeared behind the door, muttering indignantly under his breath.
“You done?” Izzy turned back to Vince like nothing happened and crouched next to the bunk to look at his knees. “Well, you certainly didn’t try your hardest. Gimme.”
He quickly and relentlessly wiped up the rest of the clotted blood off Vince’s knees and bandaged them.
“Try not to kneel much in the next few days. Even if the captain wants you to. Tell him I said so.”
“I will make sure to pass your recommendations on to him,” Vince promised grimly. “After which he, in turn, will make sure to break every single one of them. Thanks for the help. Drop by the galley when you can. I don’t have much influence over Mick, but I can coax an extra mug of beer out of him for you.”
“You sure know your strengths.” Izzy smiled with corners of his mouth. “I’ll consider it. Now off you go.”
Well, out of all of “get the fuck out of here” variations this one was rather polite. Vince, not wishing to test Izzy’s patience any longer, left the sick bay and almost bumped into Axl, who was waiting patiently by the door.
“You could have told me that Izzy knows about us before I had to find it out by trial and error!” Vince poked him in the chest accusingly.
“Well, it didn’t end in error after all, right?” Axl waved his hand carelessly. “Besides, I wanted to see how you’d hold up in the presence of another person. I gotta say, I thought you had better manners.”
“Learning from you all,” Vince grumbled. “Anyone else aware you haven’t told me about?”
“Nope. Izzy’s the only one on this ship I can trust.” Axl sighed.
“Three years, and you’ve only made one friend? You’re not a social type, aren’t you?”
“I’ll look at you in three years and see how you’re faring,” Axl scowled. “If you’re still alive, that is. The captain sure is hot-headed, but within reason. You must be a terrible pain in the ass to end up so beaten.”
“I’m not-“ Vince began, but realized anything he said would be taken as proof of that. A pain in the ass, a bother, an annoyance. None of the pirates would ever see past this description, would never believe it wasn’t his fault. They believed their precious captain would never do that on his own volition, and together with general disregard of the “blue bloods” it was enough for them to shift the blame completely onto Vince’s shoulders.
He gave Axl a deadly glare and stormed down the corridor to the galley.
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gigglegoobers · 23 days
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ANOTHER 2023 OLDIE BUT A GOODIE!!!
LAUGH.
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