Oct 26, 2025
pointing assertively at your boyfriend to get him to stop doing what he's doing but you're smiling, which may lessen the effectiveness
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pointing assertively at your boyfriend to get him to stop doing what he's doing but you're smiling, which may lessen the effectiveness
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yooo! completely new to this blog: what’s ur creepypasta au? every basis you feel like you should cover use this as a rant talk about as much as you want I’m ALL EARS!!!
My AU "Worthless is the Lamb" is kinda just a home for all my rewrites. Unfortunately, most of the characters don’t actually know each other or interact with each other so it kinda hard to cover in one post so my solution is brief summaries of the more major characters. (and using this as a master-list for the time being) Feel free to ask about individual characters >:]
Most of them have been so heavily rewritten that not a single speck of their original story is there anymore (I just refused to call them OCs 😋) , if you don’t fuck with that feel free to scroll.
The Hive: everything surrounding Slenderman, and his workers
petition for them to film another week in the life
Spoilers: Smoked, The Outlaw Eddie Wagner
Architecture
From the first moment that he realizes that he is drugged, every cell in his body resonates in Liv's direction. Not that it takes drugs to do that, of course, he just can't drown it out when his defenses are not in control. Every blink, every breath is heavy and the room is everywhere, yet also a place Elliot knows he will never belong.
When he stumbles out into the cool night, forcing his feet to work despite his vision's refusal to focus, El lets that low vibrating hum inside him push him toward Olivia. He trusts that it will get him there - it always has, when nothing else made sense.
She is in there, he knows it as he slams his palm on her door - knows it as certain as he knows what he came here to tell her. It goes around in his head like a prayer he can't stop: Tell her. Tell her Tell her.
"Olivia Benson, open up!" he yells, he can feel the drugs in his system crackling like live electricity just under the surface of his skin. He needs her to hurry before they take him out completely.
"Elliot? What the hell happened?"
Her voice saying his name - his real name, not an alias - sends a shiver through him. "Drugs. Someone .... someone dosed me," he gets out slowly.
No hospitals. All he wants is her, and this conversation that has been coming since before most of his kids were born. "I need you to let me in," he confesses. "Let me in."
She does, thank God, and he finds himself in an appropriately sophisticated wingback chair that is just the kind of chair Olivia Benson would have earned in his long absence. Liv is rationality, Liv is a lifetime worth of a job well done - and he is a buffoon, overheated and slurring his words in her fancy fucking chair.
But he can't live any longer with the knowledge of the words on that page. No matter what happens, there is only one truth left that he needs her to know; after that, damn whatever else comes.
Liv has the phone in her hand and Elliot knows he is running out of time, just as he knew it when Jenna Fox lay dying on the precinct floor. He gathers every ounce of control of his own speech he has left and forces the words out of his mouth.
"I didn't write the letter." Just those first five words feel better than as many confessions as he can remember.
"What?" her response is a word exhaled in disbelief, making him repeat himself. He does, the words coming a little faster the second time.
Dry eyes rolling in his sockets, he has never wanted so badly to feel the world stay still beneath his feet. El can feel his heart pounding, not just from the drugs.
"Kathy."
This word, at last, stills her urgency to use the phone. Olivia sits, her weight dropping out from under her as he watches her interpretation of six months' time - maybe even the last 23 years of their lives - shift, in an instant.
"Kathy, your wife ... wrote the letter that you told me that you wrote?" The disbelief on her face, in her gaze is complete and brutal.
Elliot's speech is still coming slowly, fuzzily, but each sentence he speaks feels like a chain being snapped. He is no longer tethered to the mother of his children, or the words she intended for him to hide behind on their return to Rome.
"That what we were to each other was ... never real ... and that we got in the way of each other being who and where we needed to be?"
"That was Kathy."
"And if there was a man in my life you hope he's the kind, faithful man that I deserved?"
"Kathy." His dead wife's name is like a recitation of penitence. This is his confession. The only one that matters.
Olivia, who has the letter memorized, speaks into existence the only part that matters to either of them: " 'But in a parallel universe - "
The last seven words come out plainly, as if he is as sober as a judge on his first day in robes: " - it will always be you and I.' I wrote that. I slipped it in before I sealed the envelope."
Her eyes shift one more time and Elliot can't tell if the gaze is one of relief or confusion or of utter renunciation of him. It takes monumental effort to push himself forward out of the chair, and still he almost shatters the glass in his hand against her coffee table.
"Liv ... " He's not sure how he can be so sleepy and yet on fire at the same time. "I love - " he tries, fails, tries again as his hands wrap around her. The touch of her hands on his shoulders is so desperate it's impossible to know who is holding who up.
El brings one hand up, fingers threading through the waves of her hair. When the pad of his thumb brushes her parted lips, the shiver that courses through him has the power of a freight train. Never, he's never touched her this intimately.
"I love - "
--------------------------
Somehow, she is holding onto him, despite the fact everything feels like freefall. Elliot smells of liquor, of stale cigarettes and expensive cigars, of wherever the drugs were given to him. Beneath that, though, he still smelled like Elliot: his aftershave, the clean sweat when he is abuzz with emotion and anxiety.
Months ago he had said I love you, and she couldn't respond because there were five other Stablers in the room. Hadn't responded since because of the letter that she had memorized like a note passed by a crush in high school:
What we meant to each other was never real.
Kathy.
The name now brings sorrow, anger, confusion, a whit-hot knot of pain in her gut. Everything Kathy'd had ... all the time that Liv and Elliot had lost.
What Kathy had known all along.
Olivia's fingertips dig into the corded muscle of Elliot's warm shoulders as he is knelt before her and she wants to tell him no, to stop - stop giving her his I love yous when he is broken, when he is intoxicated, when he is about to walk away. She can't do this again; can't be so close but still have empty palms in the morning where his hands should be, an empty bed where Elliot should be lying next to her.
For twelve years, they'd had that parallel universe. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than nothing. Better than his becoming a ghost that she had to convince herself was really memory.
But in a parallel universe ... it will always be you and I.
He's still struggling to speak, she with the mix of her anger, sympathy, sadness, want. Beneath her hands he is real, he is solid, and there's nobody - no Kathy, no wife, no other partner or boundary waiting to fill them with guilt. Olivia Benson is desperate for an end to empty nights full of cheeks wet with tears and thighs wet with desire that she had secretly promised to him years ago.
Elliot's thumb brushes the intimate, unclaimed territory of the corner of her mouth and she lets herself give in to his touch. Turning her head, Liv kisses the thumb pad lightly, then meets his mouth the rest of the way down, pressing into him hard.
The groan in his throat is smothered between them as Liv feels the last moment of his battling the drugs dwindle away. He crumples in her embrace, causing her to grunt with the dead weight as she hefts him onto the rug.
Her heart is galloping as she dials Ayanna's number, her gaze flickering to Elliot's still form.
I wrote that. I slipped it in before I sealed the envelope.
/fin
good vibes 2018 // 2020
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Sorry I’m a dirty liar that doesn’t know how to count!!! 🙈🙈🙈
There will be one update for Warming on the Lawn before my next chapter of Sunsets in the Grass, since the one in Warming is getting too big and I still haven’t fleshed out the scene EVERYONE actually wants to read about, 🤣
Sorry again to all my readers… Warming bonus chapter will be up either tonight or tomorrow.
Written in the Lakebed ch. 1
https://archiveofourown.org/works/25472497/chapters/61788583
And now, for content nobody asked for but that I wrote anyways. Enjoy.
LMAO WHERE IS THAT VID FROM :57 IN YOUR ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS VIDEO FROM
the hair swish? that’s good ol’ witl (x)
for context if u haven’t seen my all i want for christmas edit it’s uhh p fun