Eddie steals Steve's letterman jacket out of his locker after school. He shows up the next day with it on, smoking a cigarette on the front stoop and pretending like it's just a normal day. Like he did steal the king's most prized possession, the mark of his rule, from right under his nose.
Steve corners him outside the gym during PE. Everyone knows that's where Munson takes his midday smoke break.
Steve expected the day to end with Eddie pushed up against a wall with a fist in the face.
Instead, he finds himself in the back of a dirty old van with his legs in the hair, Eddie Munson between his legs, wearing nothing but his own letterman.
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 2.5 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 -Part 17 - Part 18 - Epilogue
Summary: it's the mid-late 1990's and Eddie owns a mechanic garage/tow truck service with his Uncle Wayne. Reader is an artist who gets a flat tire on the freeway, and the rest is kismet. Lots of sexual tension, biker bad boy Eddie with a soft heart, both not sure how to navigate this adult crush they have on each other, amidst other complications. No Vecna, and they all met when they were young, but as very different people. Eddie and Steve are heavily tattooed and grew up in the MC life. Although Steve and Eddie's characters verge on OOC, I really try my best to keep them canon at their core. There will be dark themes later in this fic: cheating (not on reader), violence, allusions to domestic abuse, etc, so please continue with caution. Appearances by uncle Wayne, and eventually some other ST characters. Plenty of references for SOA fans to enjoy, though I don't go into detail about their ranks and whatnot. Eddie is in his early 30’s and reader is late 20’s to early 30’s.
A/N: This was the very first reader insert series I ever wrote for fandom. I adore those of you who have taken the time to show love for this! It's so nice to be able to share these stories with others and not just watch it rot away on my computer. Inspired by the song and video I'm on Fire by Bruce Springsteen
playlist
Series One Shots
AO3
Eddie & Wayne artwork
Steve & Astrid artwork
biker!Eddie sitting for a painting
The Velvet Hammer
Steve & Robin's house
Eddie's apartment above the garage
A while ago I received a request about how the Arcana LIs would react to their familiars walking in on them during sexytimes, and I couldn’t not write it. Each headcanon will be posted separately due to length. Under the cut we’ll get the ball rolling with everyone’s favorite Count. Here it is @megustacat ! Sorry about the wait!
I have a bunch of stories that I just never posted, so I’m gonna do my best to get those up and as well as work on my master post. It’ll be updated periodically to make everything easier to find.
I’m eventually going to make Masterposts for my stories that have chapters and sequels. It’s gonna be a lot of work but I’m excited for it!
There’s also a new OC and story coming soon! I’m currently writing for him and Walker while also trying to edit for stories if already written but haven’t posted.
I haven’t been very good at posting on my AO3 account or my Wattpad so I also gotta get on top of that.
There’s so much I gotta do, but I know it’ll all be worth it in the end!
Same goes for this account as well. There are a few stories I’m currently working on and some I just haven’t posted, so I’ll be doing that for a while before I start anything new.
Is there a chance Damon could sleep with someone other than MC and DG, like if he gets really drunk and loses consciousness?
I've seen many wives talk about their husbands getting drunk and making mistakes. Maybe MC and Damon's marriage could face this problem too?
uhm... correct me if I'm wrong, but if he's drunk and unconscious, that means somebody raped this poor guy 😦
which is something that could happen too, not sure how your MC would react to this, but it's possible they could misunderstand this and see it as cheating, if you want to add some angst and drama~
canonically, Damon isn't much of a drinker, so he gets drunk quickly. but even then, he wouldn't cheat on MC. he'd react pretty aggressively if someone else tried to touch him or drag him to their home.
Sorry, but how could rape possibly be enjoyable? I’m not sure trust can be built after something like that. It seems to me that it would be the end of the relationship instead 💔
eh? trust? relationship? are we talking about the same character here? a literal serial killer? 😂
like… I totally get where you’re coming from if you’re thinking in terms of a normal romance story, but this isn’t that kind of game at all. it’s horror first and foremost, and it deliberately plays with themes that are meant to be disturbing, taboo, or uncomfortable.
the appeal comes more from the intensity, the danger, and that whole ‘this is wrong but intriguing’ feeling. it leans into a very specific horror/kink niche where fear and attraction blur together.
and it’s totally okay if that’s not your thing! that’s exactly why I try to be upfront about it, so people can decide for themselves if they want to engage with that content or avoid it ^^
hey! I have a question regarding the "rape" content of Br0ken Colors. it's mentioned, or do the love interests rape MC?
hallo~ 👋
so this is only about DG (in later chapters). I’m honestly not sure how to answer your question, since I assume you’re asking to figure out whether you’d be able to handle that scene. the thing is, everyone has different limits when it comes to this kind of stuff, so I can’t really reassure you one way or another ^^"
it’s not a brief mention, it’s a full scene, and it’s very much designed to be arousing. think a mix of sex and horror, not meant to be super realistic. as MC, you can either be into it or try to resist, but DG won’t stop either way. so in the end, you’ll have to decide for yourself whether that kind of content is something that would upset you or if you’re okay with it.
Hello. This is my first question. I am crazy about Damon! I am particularly interested in his dark side. Question: has Damon ever forced anyone to engage in sexual physical contact with him? And in what circumstances might he do that to MC?
welcome! here, have a cookie, you may need it now 🍪
I fear all non-con enjoyers (myself included) won’t be eating with this one 😞
Damon values consent (which is great), so he won't ever force himself on you under any circumstances. the closest thing you could get would be him masturbating while standing next to your bed and watching you sleep.
so yeah, not sure if this makes you less crazy about him, anon, or if you can live with that :"D
summary: When Zander is brought to the abandoned house Avon and his friends call their own, he expects nothing more than another uneasy hangout. Instead, he’s confronted with something far more disturbing.
characters: Zander Valdez, Avon Lockehart and friends.
warnings: Graphic Violence, Animal Cruelty, Death of an Animal described
word count: ≈500
──────• ♱ •──────
The late afternoon sun shone through the windows of Avon’s hangout house, air dutsy with old cracked paint and long-neglected floorboards, casting golden streaks across the cluttered countertops. The air was thick with laughter—his friends’ laughter, not Zander’s. He shouldn’t have come. He knew it the second he walked in, but now it was too late.
"Avon, DON’T you dare fucking turn on that blender..!"
Zander lunged, but hands grabbed him, holding him back as Avon hovered his finger over the button, grinning like this was all some big joke. His red eyes, though blurry with threatening tears, focused on the small animal trapped, confused, and scared in the mechanical contraption; the sight itself was enough to make Zander's chest ache, a deep, familiar pang that he tried to swallow down. It was a small stray kitten, soft with matted and unkept fur; it was clear that this life had been unkind to it one too many times already, only to be met with that same evil again.
Zander’s breath was unsteady, but he forced himself to keep his voice level. "Avon. Please… step away from the blender."
He hated this. Hated the way the words felt in his mouth, hated that he was standing here in this house surrounded by them—people Avon called friends but who felt more like accomplices to something cruel. Part of him wished West was here. Wished Tursk was here. Someone who would actually step in before this spiraled further. ‘Could they, even?’ Zander clenched his jaw, fighting back the sting in his eyes. He wouldn’t cry. Wouldn’t give Avon the satisfaction of seeing a single tear roll down his cheek. But the knot in his throat was rising, and the sick feeling in his stomach wouldn’t go away. Avon still had that hold over him, and it made bile burn the back of his throat.
He watched Avon's eyes twist into a greedy glee he'd seen before, dark and delighted like a predator, and the smile that followed thinned to the edge of a knife, all wrong.Then Avon laughed, flipping his hand in the air like this was all just harmless fun. "Haha, fine, fine…. I was only kidding. Wasn’t like I was actually gonna do it."
Zander let out a shaky breath, his muscles loosening for only half a second—until a movement of encouragement was felt around him, the room filling with a sudden, gut-wrenching scream, mewls, and shrieks only an animal could make. The blender whirred to life. His head snapped up. His pulse hammered. Shoving past the hands restraining him, he rushed forward, heart pounding in terror as he slammed the blender off, though much too late. His hands trembled. His breath came in short, ragged bursts.
Behind him, Avon cackled. "Holy shit, sorry! My hands slipped."
Zander barely heard him. His ears were ringing, his vision blurred with tears he had fought so hard to keep in, spilling, flooding. His voice cracked when he finally spoke.
"No, no, no… what the fuck is wrong with you!?"
Tears poured, hot tracks cutting his face as his fingers curled into trembling fists by the blender. He had a hundred things to say, but the words knotted in his throat, raw and stuck; all he could think was, ‘How did it ever come to this?’
notes: I had a less refined version of this—less graphic, less obvious. It was short, and reading it back…it wasn’t as interesting either. So I added more details!
This a longer version of this one that was already posted. I decided I didn’t wanna just leave it there and wanted to go all the way for this. So here’s the result of that! Enjoy!
The rapid thumping of feet echoed through the forest as a pair of red all stars quickly became covered in wet grass and mud. Finding a tree that was tall and thin, Walker stopped to catch his breath as he pressed his forehead onto it’s trunk, heavily breathing as tears pricked his eyes. His lungs burned as he swallowed, mouth dry from breathing so hard. Managing to slow his breath to a steady pace, he looked around the dark forest. All the trees looked the same, especially at night. How long had he been running? Was he close to home? He lightly sniffed the air, searching for the familiar sweet scent of peach trees, but got nothing. He must have been far. Far enough that no one would hear him if he were to call out for help. A shiver ran down his spine as he leaned into the tree, shoulder pressing against the wet bark. For a while, all he could hear was the forest around him. The scitter of squirrels, the light water droplets falling in the leaves, plopping onto the wet grass, a snapping of a twig, the caw of a crow. Wait…what?
Snapping his head towards the sound, Walker frantically looked behind him. A twig. It snapped. That wasn’t a normal forest sound. Eyes swirling, Walker scanned the area, searching for something, anything that didn’t belong. That's when he saw it. A shadow, a shape of a man who was holding a shiny survival knife. The irony didn’t miss Walker as he turned towards the man, not wanting to lose sight of him as he stepped back. When he finally turned around, the ravenette let out a silent ‘fuck!’ He couldn’t keep running like this and his pursuer knew it. They just needed to wait it out. Walker’s legs began to burn in protest as he finally found himself unable to keep running. Dropping to his hands and knees, Walker took deep agonizing breaths as he felt his lungs stretching. He lowered his upper half to the ground, hiding his face in his arms feeling his legs shake. His heart rate began to rise as he felt a hand grab a fistful of his hair, pulling him back as he got a good look at the masked man.
The mask that veiled his true identity was humanly realistic. The aged porcelain mask had a yellow tint and a slight grin carved into it’s surface with holes wide enough for Walker to see the dark irises peering down at him. At a glance from a distance, one might think it was just a normal face, but if you look for just a second longer, you’d notice how unnerving it truly was. Like something was wrong…something uncanny. Walker’s breathing began to shake as he felt the masked stranger warp his large gloved hand around his throat. Letting out a squeak, Walker eyes widened as he felt his body be pulled towards his pursuer, pressing his back into his chest. Walker’s eyes darted to the side to look at his masked stalker as he simply placed a gloved finger to the lips of the mask, letting out a soft ‘shhh’, before slowly lowering his hand to Walker’s crotch and pressing his palm into Walker’s dick. Bucking his hips in surprise, Walker unintentionally caused himself to moan as he gripped onto the man’s wrist. Bringing up his other hand, the masked stranger quickly covered Walker’s mouth as he pressed his crotch into Walker’s ass. Breath hitching, Walker froze. He could feel it. He could feel everything. He was large. He felt thick, hard and Walker swore he felt it twitch.
The ravenette’s throat was suddenly dry as he began to breathe through his nose, his body heat rising as he felt the masked man grind into him. Letting out a whine, Walker’s legs began to buckle as butterflies tickled his stomach making him squirm. Removing his hand from his target’s mouth, the masked man used it to grip onto Walker’s round hips as he began to thrust his pelvis into his victim. Moaning and whining, Walker could feel himself hardening more and more with each thrust. The masked man’s grip only tightened around his throat as he began to get slightly louder, before moving up to muffle his voice. Walker, helpless, could feel his eyes rolling to the back of his head. He felt his pants get tighter and tighter, jeans pressing against his hard dick until a noticeable bulge could be seen. The friction, his masked pursuer and the grip he had on Walker’s body was too much for him all at once. With a muffled groan and a new found weakness in his legs, Walker fell forward into the trunk of the tree as the man wearing a mask finally let go of his mouth.
Letting out a shaky, light chuckle, Walker balled his fists against the tree while his legs still trembled. Turning his head to look back at his pursuer, eyes swirling and sharp teeth on display, he gave them a wide, blissful grin. “I just came in my pants.” He began to chuckle when a hard slap to ass made him gasp before wiggling his hips, enjoying the sudden sharp sting through his jeans. Panting and tongue hanging from his mouth, the puppets grin widened. “More…” He said, voice barely above a whisper. The masked man gripped his target’s throat and pulled him back into chest, before forcing Walker’s body into the tree. Snaking his gloved hand down to the button of his pants, he popped and unzipped his victim all in one go, before reaching into his underwear, wrapping his hand around his victim’s hard and throbbing dick that twitched upon contact. Relaxing his body, Walker spoke once more, a wide and blissful grin and voice barely above a whisper.
“Thank you…”
Walker’s legs shook as his masked pursuer jerked him off. He would occasionally squeeze, causing his victim to whimper with pleasure. “Oh fuck…” he panted. “Fuck yeah…” A wide satisfied and lustful grin played on his face as he closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the masked stranger’s hand wrapped around his cock. He attempted to rut into his fist but was quickly corrected by the stranger roughly pushing his body into the tree trunk. “Ah! I…I’m sorry!” Walker choked out. The masked man said nothing as he pulled down his victim’s pants, revealing his ass to crisp air before giving it a sharp smack. Taking in a sharp breath, Walker moaned as he felt his body grow weaker. If it weren’t for the fact that he was pushed up against this tree, his legs would’ve given out right then and there.
But that feeling was short-lived, because what he felt in this very moment made him want to beg for everything this man had to offer and more. “Oh my god…” was all he could say as his masked pursuer laid his dick in between his ass. The warmth of his lengthy cock made Walker’s body shutter with delight. “Please…” he begged, with a shaking breath. “Please, fuck my ass.” His wish came true as he felt himself suddenly become very full. The slight burn made his mind go fuzzy as he let out a loud moan that was muffled by the masked man’s hand. He wanted to grind on his pursuer’s thick cock so bad, but he knew better. So, he stood still and let his captor have his way. With each thrust, a bolt of electricity shot through Walker’s body, hitting his prostate at a steady, moderate pace. His muffled cries of lustful pleasure seemed to make the stranger thrust harder and faster. Picking up the pace, Walker’s body tensed as he felt his own dick jump. A muffled whimper of ‘oh my god’ seemed to send him over the edge, as Walker was suddenly thrown to the ground and his captor was on top of him, easily shoving his throbbing cock deep inside him again.
Letting out a loud moan mixed with a squeak, Walker’s head was shoved into the cold grass as the masked stranger buried his cock inside of him. He was tight and clenched around him so nicely he couldn’t help but move faster. Seeing Walker trapped beneath him, unable to escape, unable to run away. It was exhilarating. A stream of obscenities, moans and cries of pleasure were the only filling his ears. He didn’t bother covering Walker’s mouth anymore. No one would hear him for miles and even if they did…what were they going to do about it? The pursuer pulled out of his lovely victim with a satisfying ‘pop!’, and snaked his arms around Walker's waist and lifted his ass into the air, giving him a full view of his clenching hole. “So empty…” Walker breathed. “I feel so empty now…” He keened, mourning the loss of the masked man’s cock inside of him. “Please…” He begged. “Please don’t…don’t stop. Please keep going…” Walker shuttered, as he felt a hand grip his ass. “Please…I need it. I need it so bad, fuck me!” The begging, the keening, the sweet whimpers and pleas to be fucked senseless. It made the masked stranger’s head spin. Who was he to deny such a sweet request? Plunging himself back inside, he took hold of Walker’s hips, holding him in place as he repeatedly drove into his entrance, sending wave after wave of electricity that made Walker see starships.
A melody of moans, whines and squeaks filled the masked man’s ears as he felt him coming close to his climax. He cock twitched, making Walker’s body twitch in response. “Oh god…” he moaned. “Please…please cum inside of me. Please, please, please—!” The sound of his begging and chanting, drove his masked pursuer to the edge. “Ugh…Fuck!” He hadn’t meant to speak, that wasn’t a part of the deal. But god damn did Walker's sweet ass feel so good. Luckily for him, Walker seemed to like the sound of his growling, grunting and moaning, it made his sweet victim go completely limp with pleasure, until the knot inside of him snapped. Shaking and convulsing, Walker could only let out a few squeaks as he writhed on the wet grass, drowning in pleasure as he felt his orgasm bring him to euphoric amounts of ecstasy.
The masked stranger panted heavily with his head hung low, until he was able to catch his breath. Lifting his gaze he saw Walker blissed out and happy. His face was flushed with pleasure as the thin layer of sweat made him shiver at a gust of wind. Weakly, Walker turned over on to his back, getting a good look at his pursuer. Well kind of, he was still wearing the mask, and although it made him warm and fuzzy, he wanted to see the person underneath. Using all his strength, Walker lifted his hands and gently removed the mask, allowing the person behind it to take in a breath of fresh air. Walker smiled at the man on top of him, his shaggy black hair and freckles made him giggle as he looked in their eyes. “Thank you…for doing this with me.” The shaggy haired man smiled down at Walker, brushing his hair to the side before caressing his warm cheek. Melting into his touch turned his head to kiss their hand.
“You’re welcome, Switchy.”
I hope enjoyed reading this, because I enjoyed writing it! For the new year I’m going to be more frequent with my posting and more diligent with my writing.
CW: Blackmail/Human Trafficking/Mentions Of Pedophilia
MDNI 18+
Authors note: If any of the mentioned themes make you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself.
“I wouldn’t get too handsy with me, if I were you.”
Gripping their shirt, the elder man in front of them had an angry, crazed look on his face. The person whose shirt he had in a vice grip showed no signs of fear or even slight anxiety. They only had that sly grin and a playful, mischievous glint in their eyes.
“You wouldn’t want these to end up somewhere they shouldn’t be, would you?”
The elder man’s eyes flickered over to the photos in his blackmailer’s hands. There he was, clear as day. Walking into a restaurant with a young girl, who looked no older than sixteen and another photo of him walking into a motel with said sixteen. Room number on full display. Looking back to his blackmailer, he begrudgingly let go of their shirt, which they smoothed out with a laugh.
“Wow! That really got you to calm down, huh? Such a high temper.” They chirped.
“Honestly, you were basically asking to be followed, walking about with a sixteen year old on your arm like that. Oh, what was it you promised her? Help with bills or something like that? Classic ‘sugar daddy’ing.”
The elder man’s body shook with rage and humiliation. He knew he had no power. He couldn’t do anything. His whole empire would come crashing down if he tried anything that this…boy? Girl? He didn’t fucking know. And that’s why he was so pissed. How could he let a freak who didn’t even know what gender they were blackmail him into submission. This was ridiculous!
“Tell me Mr. Emerson,” the freak said, with a fox-like grin.
“What would you be willing to give up for your own reputation?” It asked with its arms behind its back.
The elder man, who is called Mr. Emerson, scoffed. “There’s nothing here that I would give a freak who doesn’t even know what gender they are.” He spat.
“Oh, so we’re being transphobic now? How funny! I’ll be sure to add that to the list.” The freak giggled.
“Also my name isn’t ‘freak’. It’s Erik. With a ‘K’!”
They explained with a charming smile. Emerson couldn’t care any less than he already did.
“What the fuck do you want from me?” He hissed.
“Fine, fine. Straight to the point I see.” Erik huffed grumpily, upset that the old fart won’t play along.
“I want to make an exchange. You give me something I want, and I don’t release these lovely photos to the public news station!”
Emerson’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What the fuck could possibly want from me, you little freak?”
“I told you, my name is Erik!” They corrected, with a hand on their hip. “And that depends on how…badly you don’t want these released.”
Erik fanned themself with photos, teasing the man in front of them with that same sickening fox grin. Emerson thought for a moment. If he didn’t give this…Erik person what they wanted, the photos get released, but if he does he gets to go another day without the truth coming out. Did he really want to give up money for this…?
“I’m waiting.” Erik chimed, mimicking an old cartoon hedgehog character that Emerson used to love as a child.
Letting out a defeated sigh, his shoulders slumped.
“How much do you want?”
Erik paused. “Excuse me?”
“How much fucking money don’t want, you scrawny little freak!” Emerson's voice boomed throughout the house, but Erik wasn’t phased.
In fact, he laughed. He straight up cackled. Clutching his belly as his laughter bellowed through the very walls. After a few more moments, Erik finally calmed down enough to speak.
“You…think I want—HA!”
Erik gasped as his stomach started to hurt from how hard he was laughing. Emerson just started in confusion and a little bit of fear.
“I never said I wanted money, Harold Emerson.”
Hearing his full name made the elder man’s stomach sink. But before he could ask how he even knew that information, Erik spoke.
“I want…your wife and daughter!”
He said it with such a large grin, as if it were the simplest thing in the world to ask for. Emerson’s heart rate rose as he could hear the screams of his wife and daughter in the back of his home, they were getting closer. He turned his head to see his wife and child, struggling against two men all covered in black, as they gripped their arms in place, preventing them from wriggling free.
“You must choose Mr. Bond. Give up your wife and child or perish at the hands of your new cell mates! What will it be, Mr. Bond?” Erik asked, gleefully bouncing in his heels.
“You’re fucking insane! You’re fucking freak!” Emerson shouted over the screams of his wife and child.
“Maybe!” Erik said, walking towards the elder man.
“How badly do you want to keep it secret that you fuck girls that are the same age as your daughter, Mr. Bond?”
That seemed to stop the screaming.
“Oops!” Erik said in fake shock. “Did I say that out loud?”
Emerson dared not turn around as he heard his daughter empty the contents of her stomach while his wife could only let out incomplete sentences of why, how and what he could possibly be thinking.
“They know now, Mr. Bond! Make a choice! Make a choice!” Erik urged, giddy with excitement.
“Choose. Choose! Choose!”
They began to chant along with the shouting of the elder man’s wife and child, screaming at him to get these men to let them go. They didn’t care! They just wanted to be set free! They could cover it up and never speak of it again, all they wanted was to be—
“Take them away.”
Erik, who wasn’t surprised at all, put his hands on both his cheeks with a gasp. He moved his hands to cover his wide grin as he watched the wife and daughter get dragged away into the back of their home, where a car door shuts before speeding off.
Erik could only giggle as the elder man fell to his knees, sobbing into hands.
“Oh come on, don’t cry!” Erik chirped.
“Look on the bright side! Now you have nothing holding you back from all those sixteen year olds you like so much!”
Emerson glared up at Erik, eyes full of hate and sorrow all at once. Erik loved it.
“Oh, and one more thing…”
Erik positioned himself in front of the elder man, before kicking him across the face, knocking him to the ground and making him lose some blood and a tooth.
“My name is Erik.”
The elder man screamed and sobbed, tears streaming down his face as he weighed on his hard tile floor, watching as Erik happily skipped out the door. He got a notification on his phone, from an unknown number before getting another notification from his bank account. The money had been deposited in from his client and Erik was very happy.
I wanted to try a hand at writing something than what I’m used to. I wanted to get out of my comfort zone so it’s easier for me to write for my dark OCs!
This is a rewrite of the introductory story for Walker.
Formally known as “ToothKiller!Wally” He is now known as “Cavities Of Hysteria! Wally” or just “Cavity!Wally”.
He also doubles as an OC, so you can choose to see him as a puppet or a human. Either way the story is the same! Nothing changes.
Opening his fridge, Walker pulled out a fully thawed out steak, placing it on his cutting board before slicing it up into nut sized cubes. He grabbed the diced meat in both hands, placing it in a line on a plate, before washing his hands, knife and cutting board. Grabbing some unsalted nuts, freshly cut apples, along with some blueberries and blackberries, he places them neatly alongside each other. Dusting his hands off, he covered the plate with the tinfoil, before jogging up the stairs, rounding the corner to his bedroom. Turning on the light, he made his way over to bed before sitting down and shoving his feet in some socks before putting on his combat boots. Getting up, crossed the room and opened his closet door. He scanned his clothes for a moment before grabbing his leather jacket. Throwing it on, he turned his light off and headed downstairs.
Grabbing the plate, he plucked his keys and wallet from the small bowl next to the front door, before stepping outside, locking it behind him. Placing the plate on the porch, Walker clipped his wallet onto the chain that was looped on to one of his belt loops, before shoving it in his back pocket. With a sigh, Walker picked up the plate, and made his way down the sidewalk. He took his time, looking at the scenery and trees as he passed them by, coming to a road. Looking both ways, he crossed the street. Taking his time, he looked up at the sound of a caw above him. He smiled to himself, and quickened his pace. Reaching a farm, Walker cooed at the animals that approached him within their enclosures, from ducks to pigs and even a horse.
“Walker!” A deep male voice called. “Get on over‘ere, I got something for ya!”
Jogging, Walker quickly made his way towards the barn, a man standing in the entrance, sweating in the Georgia sun.
“Yes, sir?” Walker acknowledged, politely. “What can I do for ya, Mr. Bankford?”
“Jus’ wanted to know where ya headin’ off too?”
“Over yonder.” Walker answered, pointing to a hill. It had a peach tree at the very top.
“Feedin’ them crows again?” The man said, with a smirk.
“Yeah, I got some fresh meat, nuts and fruit.”
“Crows can eat meat?” Mr. Bankford asked, arching his brow.
“They sure can! They’re corvids!” Walker chirped.
“Corvids…ain’t that the kind of bird that’s an omnivore?” Mr.Bankford asked, turning to walk inside the barn. Walker followed in tow, practically skipping along behind him.
“Yes sir!”
Mr.Bankford chuckled.
“All that yammering’ you be doin’, I learned something’ from it.”
“Hey, they're my favorite animal!” Walker said, rubbing the back of his head.
A light blush dusted his cheeks, slightly embarrassed to learn that his info dumping was actually listened to by someone other than his friends. The farmer turned to face Walker, handing him a black bag with a crow on it with the words “CROWS & RAVENS” on it.
“I saw this in the market the other day, figured you’d want it.” The older man said, pulling out some money from his wallet.
He placed the money in the young man’s hands with a grateful smile.
“This is for helping me out the other day. You worked for eight hours, so right there is one hundred and forty-four dollars.”
Walker’s eyes lit up, with surprise and joy. He wasn’t expecting to get paid for anything, he was just being helpful after all. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to receive it. Now he could add it to his money stash!
“Thank you so much, Mr. Bankford sir!”
“You’re mighty welcome, son. You run along now, I think your bird friends are gettin’ impatient.” The older man said, pointing behind Walker.
He turned around to see three crows watching him before one of them opened their wings and let out ‘caw’ in his direction. Chuckling, Walker said his goodbyes and headed back up the dirt road.
“Tell Boris, I said hi!” He hollered.
“Will do! Hey, watch out for that—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Walker tripped over a medium sized rock that was stuck in the dirt. He let out a yelp as he regained his balance. The farmer, chuckling and shaking his head, went back to work while muttering to himself about ‘fuzzy brained’ young men.
Dust kicked up from the dirt road with each step of his black embossed boots, coating them with a thin orange layer he’ll have to take off later. A few crows flew ahead of him, likely eager to eat their meal. Approaching the top of the hill, he let out a sigh as he sat down in front of the peach tree, leaning back against the trunk and placing the crow feed down next to him. A few crows landed on his legs, pecking at the tin foil, clicking and squeaking as if to say ‘hurry up, I’m starving!’ Walker let out a chuckle as he took off the foil, crumpling it up and shoving it into his pocket. The crows waited patiently for him to spread the metal out on the ground, before they all dug in. The young man smiled, leaning against the trunk again, as he watched his bird friends enjoy their meal. He spiced out, staring off into the distance at nothing in particular, watching clouds still by when he felt something land on his shoulder.
Looking to his left, he saw a white crow, inspecting him before gently tugging at his hair.
“Hey Loki,” Walker cooed. “How ya doin’, big guy?”
The white corvid cawed in response before jumping up into Walker’s head, deciding it was the perfect loafing spot as he fluffed up his feathers. The bird let out a sigh as Walker gently stroked another crow that had taken his lap. For a while, everything was calm. Still. So much so that Walker had begun to fall asleep. He would’ve fully taken a nap had it not been for a crow waking him up by biting his earlobe. Hissing in pain, he stared at the bird in confusion, as he heard a group of footsteps approaching. He knew those footsteps. They had been trailing him since high school. The once calm murder of crows, was now a fluttering murder of chaos. Loki, the white crow, flew up to the peach tree as the rest of the murder followed, looking down as a group of young men approached their trusted human.
“Hey stalker!” The leader of the group shouted. “Still feeding your rats with wings?”
Conner Smith. This fucking guy… ever since highschool, this guy and his friends have made it their mission to make Walker’s life a misery. Of course, Walker wasn’t the only target, but he was mcertainly the most targeted. Why? Walker didn’t know. He just decided to make his life hell on a whim one day and he’s been at it ever since.
“What’s the matter, freak? Nothing to say?”
Walker didn’t answer. Instead he let out a loathsome groan. He picked up the plate, folding it small enough to fit in his back pocket, before standing up, getting ready to walk past them and go home. Unfortunately, the gaggle of frat boys didn’t see that as an option for Walker.
“Hey, I’m talking to you, cutter!” Conner shouted, shoving Walker backwards. A few caws could be heard, but Conner ignored them.
With a heavy sigh, Walker rolled his eyes and took a few steps back. He tried to walk around the group of boys, but they positioned themselves to surround the young man.
“Don’t fucking walk away when I’m talking to you, Freak.” Conner hissed.
“I’m trying to go home, you fuck.” Walker snapped.
“Well, we’re not done talking to you, crow-fucker.” The boy with green eyes; Hunter said, getting into his space.
Walker cringed at the name, feeling his stomach churn with disgust. Truly, the elevator doesn't go all the way to the top floor with these idjits.
“I thought I told you to stay away from Jackie.” Conner said, puffing his chest to seem bigger.
Jackie? That’s what this was all about? He can’t be serious.
“You can’t be serious.” Walker voiced. “You want me to ‘stay away’ from my best friend since elementary school? You’re a sandwich short of a picnic.”
That seemed to hit a nerve, as the dark haired, brown eyed boy took hold of Walker’s shirt, pulling him forward until their noses were touching.
“You don’t know when ta shut yer mouth, do ya Cutter?”
“It ain’t my fault, Jackie don’t wanna be around you.” Walker said, eyes never leaving the bully’s. “Maybe if ya weren’t such a dick, she’d actually like you.”
Without another word, Conner pushed Walker back, making him stumble into his friends. They caught him by the arms, holding him in place so he couldn’t escape what was about to come. Conner, eyes full of hate and malice, raised to fist to make contact with his victim’s face. Walker squeezed his eyes and braced himself, but all he heard was a shriek of pain.
“Fuck! Get them off me!”
And just like that, Walker was dumped to the group, catching himself on his hands. He looked up to see the murder of crows, attacking Conner and now, because they jumped in, his friends. The corvids pecked and cawed as they swooped and dove into the group of boys, making sure to peck at their heads and skin. They were mobbing them. Scared and confused, the boys ran away down the hill, screaming as the crows continued to harass them until they were far enough away from their human. Heart pounding, Walker collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavy and at a rapid pace.
Conner had never done that before. Sure, he’s shoved him, called him names and even pulled a shitty prank on him. But he’s never outright tried to assault him. Not like that. Walker’s head began to spin as he clutched his chest, squeezing his eyes shut and curling in on himself, tears building up in his eyes. He tried to slow his breathing, but trying to force himself to take a deep breath only seemed to make it worse. He rolled onto his back, tears spilling out, trailing to his ears. Conner tried to hurt him. He really tried to hurt him.
A light weight landed on his belly before it made its way to his chest. Opening his eyes, he saw the white crow, inspecting him, before it began to sulk. It inched its way up to the crook of Walker’s neck, before fluffing up its feathers and loafing there. Loki; the white crow stayed there as Walker’s breathing began to slow down to a manageable pace. He closed his eyes, face still tear stained and allowed his body to relax. He heard more crows approaching him, but did nothing to stop them. He welcomed them as they stood guard either near him or in the tree above him.
After a few minutes, Walker was okay enough to sit up. Slowly raising, he gently pet the white crow's head letting out a hoarse ‘good crow’, before making his way over to the bag of crow’s feed. Clutching it to his chest, he stood on his feet, slightly wobbly and still anxious. Loki perched himself on Walker’s shoulder as he made his way down the hill, eyes on the ground the entire time. Passing the farm, he could hear and feel his heart in his ears, when he heard someone calling out to him. Lifting his eyes, he saw Boris; his best friend since kindergarten. Noticing something was off, Boris ran up to meet Walker halfway, taking note of Loki on his shoulder.
“Hey buddy…what’s goin’ on?” Boris asked, cautiously. “Somethin’ happen?”
Loki fluttered his way over to Boris’ shoulder greeting him with a chirp. He was greeted back with a gentle rub to chest.
“Conner and his friends just tried to beat me up.” Walker droned. “They just…showed and started harassing me.”
“He what?”
“He was mad about Jackie being so close to me…” Walker let out a dry, bitter laugh.
“I didn’t think he was serious, so I told him he was a sandwich short of a picnic, and I guess that pissed him off.”
Loki then fluttered back to Walker, landing on his shoulder again, and taking a piece of hair in his beak. Walker would have found it cute if he weren’t so shaken up.
“He grabbed my shirt and got in my face. So I told him if he weren’t such a dick, Jackie would actually like him.”
Boris let out a scoff while nodding in agreement.
“I guess that was the last straw and he and his friends tried to beat me up. But Loki and his murder were there to stop it.”
“Thank fuck for that.” Boris sighed.
His brow furrowed, upset that Conner attempted to do such a thing, and concerned for his best friend who was still shaking. Boris’ dad came outside, wondering why his son hadn’t fed the pigs yet. Noticing the change in Walker’s attitude, he asked what had happened since the last time he saw him. Boris explained, causing Mr. Bankford to shake his head in disappointment.
“Them damn hoolagins still pickin on ya? Over a girl?”
Walker nodded, eyes on the ground. Eye contact was hard right now and he started to fidget with this leather sleeve, a nervous habit that Boris took notice of immediately.
“Come inside, we got sweet tea and khachapuri fresh out of the oven.” Boris said, gently guiding his best friend inside. Loki flew off to perch on top of their house, likely to keep watch as a few other crows joined him.
“You go in there n’ relax, I’ll make a phone call to the sheriff to keep an eye out, ‘case they come after ya again on the way home.”
Nodding, Walker made his way inside the small house, trying not to cry in front of the elder man.
His lip quivered as he quickly made his way inside. The smell of golden bread and butter filled his nose as he made his way to the kitchen table. Mrs. Bankford greeted Walker with a smile, before it became a small frown. She didn’t even have to be told. She just knew.
“Those boys again. Always pickin’ ya.” She said, grading him a plate.
Fixing him a plate, she poured a tall glass of sweet tea, adding in extra sugar. Her sneakers thumped across the creaky, wooden floor as she set the plate and drink in front of him. Gently, she took his face and made him look at her, but Walker avoided eye contact. Her frown deepened as she caressed his cheek in a way only a mother could.
“Shakin’ like a leaf.” She stated, shaking her head.
She was pissed. Mr. Bankford could be heard on the phone, talking to the sheriff. That only seemed to make Walker shake more, as he knew Conner and his frat boy friends wouldn’t like that very much.
“Hey.” Mrs. Bankford called, causing the shaking young man to look up at her.
“Eat ya food. Don’t go giving yourself panic attacks ya hear?”
Taking a deep breath, Walker tore off a piece of the bread, dunked it into the egg and cheese before taking a bite. Nodding in approval, Mrs. Bankford went outside to talk to her husband, leaving Boris alone with Walker. He leaned on the table, head down on his folded arms as his best friend ate in silence. Crows could be heard outside, as Boris looked up at the young man sitting at his table.
“You gonna be okay? Boris asked.
“Dunno…” Walker muttered, taking another bite of his meal.
They sat in silence for a while, neither one saying anything as Walker slowly finished his meal and drink. The sweetness did little to help lighten his mood, but he was still grateful for Boris’ mom and dad. They always did what they could to help him feel better. Or at least feel safe.
“Want me to walk you home?” Boris asked.
“Yeah…”
“Alright… imma go get ready.”
Boris got up from the table, heading through the kitchen and towards his bedroom, when he stopped himself. He took a look back at Walker, before his gaze shifted to his parents, who could be seen in the window talking on the phone. Shifting his gaze back to his best friend, he called him into his room. The young man got up from his chair, placing the plate and cup in the sink before following behind Boris. Shutting his bedroom door, he turned on his radio and plugged his phone, choosing some music to listen to. He had a feeling Walker was gonna be here for a little while.
summary: West can’t shake the feeling that something is going on between Avon and Zander,something closer, more intimate than it should be. Tursk brushes it off… until one night, beneath shared blankets and the illusion of privacy, West’s suspicions are quietly confirmed as Avon draws Zander further into their twisted “friendship”.
characters: Zander Valdez, Avon Lockehart, West García, Tursk Hensley
As the two settled into the comfort of the blankets, it was time to sleep over at Tursk's house this weekend. It was a common habit in the group to sleep over at each other's houses every now and again—usually every other weekend.
As the months passed and they neared the final stretch of high school, Avon and Zander seemed closer than ever.
West noticed it.
Tursk usually brushed their behavior off, calling them just friends—a duo, even. But West knew that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t just a "vibe" or some unspoken feeling. He saw it with his own two eyes.
There were moments.
Like the way Avon would run his fingers through Zander’s hair. The way they always seemed a little too close. Breathless in the bathroom. Once, West even caught them in the broom closet.
But no matter how many times he rambled, pleaded, or tried to explain it to Turks, he was always dismissed. Brushed aside.
—
That afternoon, the four of them stood in the city park. The sun beamed down overhead, warm against the shifting leaves that scattered in the breeze.
“West, you’re imagining things,” Tursk huffed, arms crossed as he looked down at the tanned, blond boy.
“I am not! You—they—They were just kissing! At the bench!” West tripped over his words, flustered.
“They were not,” Tursk said flatly, pointing toward the pair. “They’re just sitting there. Look.”
Sure enough, Avon and Zander sat quietly on the bench, glancing toward them before looking away, calm and composed.
West’s voice grew more frantic. “No, I promise, I swear they’re into each other. Or gay. Or something. Something is going on between them, I—”
Tursk rolled his eyes and placed a hand on West’s shoulder. “West, you worry me sometimes. No one is gay. Hell, if anyone here is gay, it’s probably you.”
“WHAT?!” West exploded.
__
The constant denial had soured West’s mood—not toward Tursk necessarily, but toward Avon and Zander.
For some reason, whenever he tried to point it out, whenever Tursk looked, Avon and Zander would just stop. Like nothing had happened.
It was starting to make West feel crazy. Like maybe Tursk thought he was losing it. Like maybe it was schizophrenia or something.
That night, curled under the covers in Tursk’ living room, West closed his eyes, trying to push the thoughts aside. But minutes later, he heard two giggles from under a different set of blankets.
***
Avon flicked on the flashlight of his phone. Under the blanket, Zander watched him, eyes wide and curious.
“Do you wanna practice before we watch videos?” Avon asked, voice soft and casual.
Zander hesitated, laughing nervously as something twisted in his stomach. Not love—no, it wasn’t that. It was fluster, anxiety. That itchy kind of feeling that made his skin crawl and his throat tighten.
“Uh… practice what?” he asked.
Avon snickered, leaning in a little closer. “You know… the thing we do.”
“Kissing?” Zander asked, brows furrowed.
Avon groaned. “God, stop calling it that. It’s not like we’re doing it for real. It’s just practice. For when you get in a relationship or whatever. Same for me.”
Zander looked around the blankets nervously. “But… you’ve been in a relationship. And what if Tursk or West sees? Will they—”
Avon cut him off, gently placing a hand over his mouth.
“Shh. You’re loud,” he whispered. “Kissing’s like anything else—it takes practice. You don’t wanna get rusty. And you can only get better, right? It’s not a big deal. Relax.”
Zander fell silent. As Avon’s hand pulled away, so did some of the panic in his chest. “My... my bad,” he mumbled. “Then, sure.”
He gave a small laugh as Avon leaned in closer, their faces just inches apart. But as they began, Zander couldn’t stop the thought creeping into the back of his mind.
Was this really no big deal?
Kissing was supposed to be intimate. Loving. And no matter how often Avon brushed it off as something casual, just “practice”, it felt off. Logically, it made sense. Technically, sure. But emotionally… something about it clawed at Zander.
It stuck in his stomach like slime—suffocating and cold.
He hated feeling like that.
But he didn’t know why.
notes: I’m back from my nap and posting more of my old writings
summary: You’re a captive, locked in the basement of America’s top actor, Devon Darling. But what happens when you step out of line… or try to escape?
characters: Devon Darling
warning: kidnapping, neglect, general violence, implied forced medical procedures
word count: ≈1K
──────• ♱ •──────
As a light in the corner buzzed with a continuous wave of sound within the darkness, you lifted yourself up on your elbows, your body sinking slightly into the dirty, grim mattress below you. The same mattress that had seen many people just like you.
As your eyes opened and vision focused on the dim room surrounded by concrete walls and grimy floors, a pain shot throughout your legs. It was a sharp reminder of the pain that was forced upon you by your captor, your ankles pulsing in mind-fogging pain. However, the pain didn’t take away your ability to be alert completely. As you shifted your body weight to the side and against the caged wall, you heard footsteps coming down the stone steps that always felt so far from your reach. You used to tense and shiver at the mere echoes of the expensive clacking boots of your captor, but now it was simply routine. A month of isolation with one person would do that to you…
The idea of escaping felt far, and even further with your injuries. It’s been two weeks since the man had broken your ankles, and yet there were no signs of you getting better. Though, you weren’t surprised. You’ve been forced to stand, to walk, and sometimes move your food in less than comfortable movements to properly heal.
You wondered how a man like Devon Darling—America’s darling, idol, sweetheart—could be so evil. So sadistic.
He’d try to help you walk, to help you move—but the way he grinned at you with smug satisfaction told you all you needed to know. He didn’t want you to get better; he simply enjoyed the sliver of torture he was able to pull from your weakened state. You stayed awake at nights believing it somehow fueled some sick, power-hungry part of him—or maybe it was deeper.
As the footsteps closed in, a shadowy figure loomed over your disabled state. Then finally, a click. There was that same charming face, and usually you were met with a state of distance or disgust—but instead you were flashed a warm and sympathetic smile.
“Hi there, cherry… holding up okay?” He tilted his head as his eyebrows raised and twisted together in false concern. Humming at your silence, he knelt down and held his hand on the exterior of the cold, soulless cage between you both. “Are you… behaving?”
His tone teased at you, a pout in his voice. He knew you had no other choice than to behave in a state like this. And still, too irritated, too pained, too exhausted—you stayed silent. He wasn’t angry, though, just content.
Devon stood up and walked toward a locked crate. “You know, you silly little thing, you aren’t speaking much.” He continued, retrieving a set of keys, “if you hadn’t pulled that awfully stupid — idiotic — stunt a few weeks ago, you’d still have two perfectly working ankles.”
You remembered two weeks ago. You had thought you had an opening—so desperate to leave. You don’t know what you were thinking. You’d snapped. Thrown a plate of untouched food at him. A pathetic attempt to buy yourself seconds. A distraction. But within minutes, you were on the floor, screaming, your ankles torn open by the barbed metal crown of a baseball bat.
He was right. You would have still had two well-working ankles, and yet here you were. He used to visit you every other day. Since then, it had been less. Less attention. Less food. Less pretending.
But now, here he was again. And smiling.
“That’s okay,” he cooed. “Today’s a special day. An occasion, if you will.”
Your head lifted.
He chuckled. “Wow. That got your attention, hm?”
With surprising ease, he unlocked your cage and lifted you into his arms. Your weight didn’t seem to bother him. He carried you like a doll to the medical table near the far side of the room — the one beside the tripod. The one with the blinking red light.
“I’ve got something that’ll help with your little ankle problem,” he whispered, setting you down like he cared. “I’m awfully sorry about leaving for so… long.”
He brushed a strand of hair from your face. His touch was soft. Reverent.
“You must be hungry, hm?” he said, voice hushed and affectionate. “Don’t worry. We’ll eat… after we’re done.”
His fingers curled under your chin.
And then he smiled again.
Turning away from your face, he focused his attention back on a metal cabinet bolted into the wall. He hummed softly to himself as he shifted through the supplies — some medical, others… not. You couldn’t see all of it from your angle, but the distinct sound of glass clinking and something metallic scraping together sent a fresh wave of unease through your chest.
None of it was standard. None of it was safe. And yet here he was, pulling them out like toys and party favors. You figured someone like him didn’t suffer from a lack of access to anything. Celebrity. Money. Status. Charm.
How deeply unfortunate for you.
Then came the soft hiss of a cap being pulled, the rubbery squeak of a syringe being primed. Devon turned, holding up a vial filled with a cloudy anesthetic fluid and a long syringe in one hand, followed by something heavier in the other. Your eyes barely had time to process the strange smile on his face before you saw it — the bone saw.
He waved both in your direction like he was some game show host. “Surprise~” he sang, the smile widening just enough to make your stomach twist.
Your breath stopped. No grin should look that proud with tools like those in hand. He stepped closer, the dim lights glinting off the metal of the bone saw.
“And before you ask,” he added with a laugh , tapping the syringe lightly against his palm, “Of course I’ll numb you first. I’m not a complete monster, cherry.”
Though he spoke quickly under his breath, “Most times anyways.”
He tilted his head and pouted, mock-offended by your trembling state and silence. Then he laughed—quietly, warmly before setting his things down and buckling you to the table. You struggled of course, scared, terrified of what was to come. You screamed at the idea, the possibilities all leading to one thing.
Amputation.
Note: I’ll probably fix formatting later, for now i’ll just concentrate on posting my short stories. <3
summary: Avon comes over for “quality time,” expecting Zander’s claimed twisted habits…only to catch him e-dating instead. Not exactly what he imagined… until one folder proves he hadn’t been wrong after all.
characters: Zander Valdez , Avon Lockehart
warnings: Self-harm, Mutilation, Manipulation
word count: ≈500
──────• ♱ •──────
Zander sat in the chair as Avon hovered over him, the older male’s hand snaking around his shoulder. He’d gotten used to the unasked-for physical contact over the years, so it didn’t bother him much. But this time… he was being judged—and god, was it awful.
“Wow, wait,” Avon adjusted his glasses as he peered into the screen on Zander’s desk in his dim bedroom. “Are these, like, your… online girlfriends or something?” he asked, eyeing the list of people in Zander’s DMs—recently opened ones, too.
It wasn’t just delusional fans or friends who were just as hopeless as he was—no… these people were different.
Zander stammered, “W-What?! No! It’s not like that…” He tried to clear his name, desperate to kill any assumptions Avon might have—but it was much too late for that.
Avon grinned and let out a short laugh. “Ah… I’d say otherwise.” Glancing to the side, he thought for just a moment before snickering to himself. “Open them up. I wanna see.”
Zander looked up at Avon; his eyes were glued, determined, unwavering. He knew better than to say no, so he simply sighed and opened one up, too flustered to even choose properly.
Avon snatched the mouse from his hand, mouth hanging open in shock. “Oh—oh wow… WOW!… ‘I’ll send you Nitro if you—’”
Zander abruptly cut him off. “SHUT UP! Don’t act like you haven’t done dumb shit like that too…”
Avon let go of the mouse and hummed into Zander’s ear. “Maybe once or twice. You’re really playing into the whole Discord moderator thing, huh? Though I’m surprised there isn’t worse. You talked a big game, Zandi~”
Zander turned around to properly face Avon. He was cornered in his chair, but it wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to. That didn’t mean it wasn’t… uncomfortable… in one way or another.
Zander rolled his eyes and smiled. “Of course there’s worse. Look.”
He turned to his screen and opened up a secluded folder. Inside was a subfolder labeled “cvts.”
After a few clicks… there it was. A gallery full of different people with different parts of their bodies cut in various ways. Some cuts were small, others much larger. Some of the victims even said Zander’s name. All the files were labeled with what Avon could only assume were usernames, legal names, and dates.
The rings in Avon’s eyes widened with interest and excitement. “That’s more like it! Wow…” He stared in wonder for a moment before glancing back down at Zander. “See? I was about to say… I knew I taught you better than that. But this—this is definitely more my style.”
Avon watched Zander as he thought. Then, with a breathy sigh, he turned Zander toward him again.
“Don’t worry, Zander…” his voice dipped low as he brought his legs to either side of Zander’s, sitting comfortably in his lap. “I won’t tell anyone about your other little e-kitten hobbies.” He purred teasingly.
Zander jolted. “E-e-kitten!?” He looked around in a frenzy and pushed Avon off his lap. “Fuck off!”
Avon couldn’t even be mad. Annoying Zander with his torment was probably the most entertaining thing he’d done all week.
notes: Most of these are quiet short.
Eden’s Library @xedenslibraryx - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
gummygunk
origamiaround
romaincrisis
areudirty
jbbartram-illu
snowghoul
ellievsbear
pixelskylines
discoholicmusic
