#keep Workin On It and remember that Dogs Is Dogs

[muttsandmustelidae]

i feel like the way ‘dogtok’/‘dogstagram’ talks about reactivity makes reactive dog owners feel a lot more ashamed than they ought to

[gothic-thoughts]

Music To My Ears

Gojo Satoru x Black GN Reader Smut

MDNI, Perv Coworker!Gojo, Bimbo!Reader

CW: all the dirty words(he's a whore), stupid and oblivious Reader, Gojo jerking 📴 to your voice, reader being fluent in Yapanese 😭, imma degrade y'all cuz u lack brain cells

Word Count: 1191 (give or take)

It was 11 pm, and you were on the phone with your coworker, Satoru. You've been talking for about an hour now, but after a while, you noticed soft huffing and heard soft panting. Since there's not much going on up there, all you thought to do was tilt your head to the side with confusion. You shrug it off and continue to yap, but the longer he listened, the more he groped and palmed his erection through the grey sweats he wore.

“Uh, Gojo?” Your first mistake was saying his name.

“Yeah? What’s up, girlie?”

“You good?"

"Say again?" He heard you perfectly fine, but you can't tell can you?

"I asked if you were good. You workin' out right now?"

“Hah, yeah.” He responds before muttering, “I'm workin' somethin', ngh."

“Huh? You keep mumbling, Toru.”

"Hehe, don't worry about it." More panting "Just...continue your story."

You shake your head, believing his panting really came from a workout regimen, knowing damn well the strongest sorcerer don't need one.

“So like I was saying...”

He chuckled and made a low growling noise as he reached into his sweatpants, feeling how damp his boxers were from how much precum soaked into them. He bit his lip, slowly pulling out the erection that you caused from that voice you blessed him with. Every inflection, filler word, and gasp when you remembered another part of your story drove him so wild.

“And then I was like, ‘Ohmygod, Shoko’s not working for once?’ So I ran up to her...”

He grunts, trying his best to keep his voice away from the whiney territory he knew it could rise to if he felt too good. To you, his breathing sounded a bit...off, as if it sounded heavy and...well, different than normal. But he was working out, of course, he’d sound like that.

“The only reason I hesitated was because I feel like she don’t like me...”

With every passing moment, his fist passed over his shaft while his left hand kept a firm hold around his base, keeping him from exploding too soon, and with how often you clicked your tongue or sucked your teeth, he could’ve at any moment.

“Do you think she likes me; ion think she likes me. Anyways, though...”

The grunting sound only grew in pitch as the groans started to sound more...animalistic, mouth forming a smirk. He whispers your name, guiding his hand up and down his cock a little faster, getting the palm sticky with precum.

“Toru...” The concern in your voice makes his hand stop, “You sure you okay?

He bites his lip as he moans softly, watching another drop of precum squeeze out his tip and slide down to his still fist. "Yeah... heh...” 

“You huffin’ like a dog.”

“Oh sorry. I’m doing... I’m doin’ some push-ups right now so..." 

"Ohhhh, aight."

"Keep talking, short stuff."

"You even listening, Gojo?"

"Of course I am, I can, ngh, multitask."

"Mmm..."

The little hum of yours made him bite his bottom lip so hard that it bled. "I mean it, girlie." He sighs, "Hanging on every word. You were talking about your shopping spree."

"Oh yeah! I got a bunch of clothes with Utahime today! And they are the fuckin’ cutest! Like, there’s one that was...”

He groaned quieter as he heard you continue on, pumping his hand up and down to the speed your excited voice spoke. His fist twists with each stroke, grinding his red, sensitive cockhead into his palm which makes him shiver. The sound of his breathing had become noticeably heavier and deeper. He didn't respond just yet, instead, he only let out low grunts and 'mhm's in response to what he heard you say. He started to lift his hips from his bed, fucking his fist while pretending it was him making you ride him.

“And I got new lip gloss. Like a lot of lip gloss; cuz you know me...”

He did, in fact, know you; meaning that you prolly got almost every color, scent, and flavor imaginable just to try out. That sentence was all it took for the strongest sorcerer's mind to switch from thoughts of how good you'd feel bouncing on his long dick to how soft and wet your mouth was. You talk so much so it's gotta be moisturized as hell, not like he wouldn't make you use so much spit it made the colors on your lips smear around his veined shaft.

He whined into the speaker as you rambled, but TRUST he was listening. His eyes were rolled back, his hand began pumping faster, massaging the swollen head of his cock while his free hand gripped the base. He wanted to smear that lip gloss, stick, whatever so bad; just the thought of leaving your plump lips and chin stained with white and whatever other color made his full balls tense.

"H-hey, short stuff? You think you can you count down from 10 for me?"

"Yeah, why?"

"For my workout, remember?"

"Ohhh, right." You let out another oblivious giggle, "I forgot about that."

"Y-yeah, I'm, uhm, planking... and I'm al-most....done. Count for me."

"Kaykay. Ten.... nine..."

His hand slows down, trying to time his orgasm with that sexy voice. Gojo groaned and grunted, letting it all out since your dopey ass wholeheartedly believed he was tired from overexertion.

"Eight... seven..."

"Yesss~" He whispered, "Suck it, baby girl, that's it. Show me those eyes."

His breath got shallow as he looked down at his thighs, imagining you were scratching at them while your glazed-over eyes blinked up at him.

"Six... five..." 

"Yeah, not a fuckin' thought behind them, huh? F-uck, lemme give your mouth somethin' else to do."

Unable to help himself, he speeds up his hand, coating his entire dick in his own precum. His back arches from the bed as his hips thrust up, fucking his fist as you got close to one.

"Four.... three..."

"So fucking close, s'fuckin' close. I'm...gonna...cum. W-wanna cum in your mouth, baby please."

"Two... one."

"Ah, shiiit!!"

He let a resounding, drawn-out growl as pent-up cum spurts from his cock, shooting across his slim fingers. He continued driving his shaft through his fist, body shaking on his bed as his load continued to spill over his hand. He finally calms down, resting on his bed, and looking down at the cum all over his abs and lower stomach, clinging to his happy trail and pubes. 

"Damn," Your voice snaps him out of it, "Did you hurt yourself, Toru? That sounded painful?"

"N-no, I'm okay just...." He gulps thickly, collecting himself, "J-just planked longer than I could handle, heh."

"Was that okay? Did I count too fast or...?"

"Haah, no. It was perfect, girlie, th-thanks."

"Oh... uhh..." You tilt that empty head of yours, "What was I saying...?"

"You were talkin' 'bout... gettin' some clothes from Utahime... I think?"

"Oh, yeah! Then I was talkin' bout lip gloss!"

"Yeah, yeah." His cock slowly starts to harden again, putting a tired, yet devious smirk on his face, "Tell me what colors you got."

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

(a/n): eat up.

[savemeafruitjuice]

Tickletober Day 20- Tease

This is a 2003 fic! I'm really feeling the tiredness from writing every day, but I think I've got it in me to do the rest of the month. I've been wanting to write for lee '03 Donny for a while, so I guess this is my opportunity!

Lee: Donny

Ler: Raph, Mikey

TW!: None!

"Oh Don!~ I need help with the tv, I think it's broken!"

"Not again, Mikey.. This is the fifth time this week!" The purple-themed turtle sighed, standing up from his desk and walking over to where his brother sat, hand stabilizing his crossbody bag as he jumped down from the platform.

"Let me see what the problem is.." He moved to the back of the many television sets, checking outlets and wires for any disconnections or fraying parts. His eyes narrowed, following a wire to its respective tv, and paused, confused when nothing seemed to be wrong.

"Hmm, I'm not seeing any issues.." he walked back around to where the youngest was, startling as he saw Raph there was well, arms crossed as he looked at the blank screens. "O-Oh, Raph! When did you get there?.."

The elder shrugged. "Heard Mikey over here complainin' 'bout the tvs not workin'." He tilted his head, running a finger along the top of one of the screens. "Thought ya fixed them the other day.." Donny sighed, nodding. "At least I thought I did. Apparently, they keep breaking. I just don't know what's wrong with them."

A whine was heard from the orange-clad. "Are you saying you can't fix it? Donnn, I need tv!"

"Shaddup, Mike. He hears ya.." the sai-user hushed, turning back to his more reserved brother. "Surprised to hear even the all-time genius is havin' a tough time. Too much stress, Don?" the elder teased, but the last sentence has a tone of concern to it. Donatello's cheeks went pink, and he began fiddling with his fingers. "Uhm, I don't know.. Everything's going just fine, so-"

"You sure, bro? You look a little flushed."

The olive-toned mutant stuttered a little. He always did get nervous rather easily.. Mikey scooted over to his genius brother, hands clasped together as he stared up at him with puppy-dog eyes. "Pleeease fix the tv! I'm begging you!"

"O-Okay, Mikey. Stop that, I'm doing my best." The youngest latched onto his leg, clinging tightly onto the limb, leaving Donny to try and step away, unable to do so with the new weight. The nunchuck-user nuzzled into his thigh, still babbling out pleas to have the television fixed. At the contact, the scientist's mouth pulled into a smile, pushing gently at the younger's head.

"Ah! No, thahat- tihicklehes!"

"Please fix it!"

At that instant, Donny crumpled to the ground, still trying to get his brother off of him. "Ooh, you'd better listen to him, Don. He sounds serious."

Mikey didn't let go, pressing his face into the other's knee instead. Donny yelped, kicking out at the feeling. "Wahait! Dohon't, I- Hehey!" Raph had sat behind the purple-themed turtle, snatching his arms up and pulling them above his head. "Get 'im, Mike. I don't think he's listenin' to ya."

Mikey giggled, letting go of the older's leg, only to sit on his waist and poke at his torso. "Pay attention, Donnyyy!" The turtle scrunched his nose up, giggles interrupting his words. "Rahaph, don't emcourahage hihim! Ahah!"

"Encourage what? I'm helpin' ya with yer listenin' skills." The elder of the three teased, leaning into his brother's ear, making him squeak and scrunch his shoulders up a bit. "Noho, you're nohot!"

"Oh, so now I'ma liar. Don't be so rude, Don." The elder darted his arm down, now only using one hand to hold up his brother's, squeezing at the side of his neck. The bo-staff-user squealed, throwing his head to the side and flailing about.

"Hahah! NO- I dihiHIdn't sahay tHAHAT!" He squawked as the youngest began kneading his ribs, twisting and turning to try and fight the ticklish sensation. "Yeah? Then what did ya say?"

Donny's brain was frazzled, the buzzing feeling at his neck and ribs were mixing up his thoughts. He couldn't even remember what he said! "IHI- I fohorgot! Stohop it!" His entire face was dusted a shade of pink, eyes closing at the intimidating sound of his brother's voice.

"That's what I thought."

There was a moment of dead silence, both turtle's hands stopping, before Don saw Mikey share a look with the other. Before he could even utter out an apology, four hands were drilling into his sides. It took only a split second for his now free hands to dart down, but it made no difference to the ticklish agony he was plunged into.

"HAHAHAH! GUHUYS,- SNRK- STOHOHOP! HAAH!"

A loud snort escaped from his mouth, making the youngest snicker as he continued wiggling his fingers into the squishy flesh of his sides, unprotected by a shell. "Gee, Don. Think ya can fix the tv now? I wanna watch some shows with Mikey ov'a here."

The scientist stomped his feet on the hard ground, elbows trying to press down over his sibling's hands to cover himself, but the tickling didn't stop. "YEHEHES! YEHES, IHI'LL TRY TO-HAHA! IHI'LL TRY!"

Mikey groaned, blowing a raspberry in the middle of the elder's plastron. "I don't want you to try, I want the it to work!" Donny squealed during the entirety of the raspberry, curling in on himself and bucking frantically until it was over.

"OHOHOKAHAY! OKAYOKAY! IHI'LL FIHIX IT!"

That got the youngest to stop, but Raph only shot his hands up, squeezing the muscle in the back of his armpits. Donny screeched, face bright red as he laughed, arms slamming down, only trapping the ticklish feeling. "RAHAHAPH!"

"Alright, fine.." The red-themed mutant slipped his hands out of his brother's underarms, hoisting him up into his lap with a bear hug. "C'mere, brainiac.."

Don slumped into the hold, panting slightly as he caught his breath. He moved his head to the side, pushing Mikey away with his foot when he tried to grab onto his leg again. Instead, the nunchuck-user knee-walked around him, and sat next to Raph, who pulled him into the hug as well.

The three smiled, peacefully sitting together for a moment, until Mikey checked the time.

"My show is on in ten minutes!"

The purple-themed mutant sighed. "I'm on it.."

[justamonkeyonautopilot]

Can't remember if it was last year or the year before I did this or both. But yesterday on my way to work I saw that Apple has already shared their Replay 2024 list. So I'm going to post it here to see if it has changed any by December. As once again I'm curious. I also noticed through this that some of the songs listed on here I have only listened to once so I have no clue how they generate these lists. Some I understand they're on there from the dance show back in February because I'd play them on repeat to practice.

Here we go then:

Texas Hold 'Em - Beyonce

Anatomy - Kenzie

Feminine Rage - Peggy

The Code - Nemo

A Bar Song (Tipsy) - Shaboozey

Stick Season - Noah Kahan

Marameo - Alessandra

I Choose Violence - Jax

Houdini - Eminem

Austin (Boots Stop Workin') - Dasha

90s Kids - Jax

The Me I Was - Kenzie

Sos - Soap

Heather On The Hill - Nathan Evans

Seventeen - Marina and The Diamonds

Born This Way - Lady Gaga

Get the Party Started - P!nk

Disconnect - Becky Hill & Chase & Status

Attention - Todrick Hall

As Long As You're There - Stuart Matthew Price (Carrie Hope Fletcher and Oliver Ormson)

Hayloft II - Mother Mother

Someone You Loved - Lewis Capaldi

Sail - Awolnation

A Song For Chelsea - Jax

Where Do All The Good Kids Go? - Maddie Zahm

Lost On You - LP

Naughty - Matilda Movie Soundtrack

Beautiful Things - Benson Boone

Anybody Have A Map? - Dear Evan Hansen

Something Just Like This - The Chainsmokers & Coldplay

Join Us For A Bite - JT Music

Kang Kang Kang (DJ) - Half Ton Brothers

The Gambler - Kenny Rogers

Dance With Me Tonight - Olly Murs

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da - The Beatles

Gangsta's Paradise - Coolio

Whistle (While You Work It) - Katy Tiz

Ava - Natalie Jane

Airplanes - B.o.B.

Found A Way - Drake Bell

I Just Can't Wait To Be King - The Lion King

Freedom - Pharrell Williams

Like My Father - Jax

Girl In The Mirror - Megan Moroney

W.I.T.C.H. - Devon Cole

The Room Where It Happened - Hamilton

Proud Mary - Tina Turner

I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) - The Proclaimers

You'll Be Back - Hamilton

Youngblood - 5 Seconds of Summer

Wasn't Expecting That - Jamie Lawson

Hit The Road Jack - 2WEI & Bri Bryant

I Say No - Heathers

Bang Bang - Jessie J, Ariana Grande & Nicki Minaj

I Got Up - Overnight Lows

Pretty Devil - Alessandra

Working For The Company - Willy Moon

We On Top - Photronique & Shari Short

Pretty Little Black-Eyed Suzie - Guy Mitchell

21 Reasons - Nathan Dawe

Stargazing - Myles Smith

Below The Surface - Griffinilla

Kiss An Angel Good Morning - Charley Pride

Barry and Freda - Victoria Wood

Circle The Drain - Katy Perry

I Kind of Relate - Drake Bell

Helium - Sia

Teir Abhaile Riu - Celtic Woman

Bring Him Home - Ramin Karimloo

One Day More - The 2020 Les Miserables Staged Concert Company

I'm Not Here To Make Friends - Sam Smith

Dark Horse - Katy Perry

Don't Forget - Demi Lovato

It's Goin' Down - Descendants

I Do Not Hook Up - Kelly Clarkson

Break The Ice - Britney Spears

Candyman - Christina Aguilera

Vampire - Olivia Rodrigo

Hey Mama - David Guetta

Karma - JoJo Siwa

Beat Again - JLS

I Think I'm In Love - Kat Dahlia

Diva - Beyonce

Paint The Town Red - Doja Cat

We No Speak Americano - Yolanda Be Cool & DCUP

Boyfriend - Alphabeat

Get Stupid - Aston Merrygold

I Put A Spell On You - Annie Lennox

Let Me Down Slowly - Alex Benjamin

Can't Be Tamed - Miley Cyrus

They Just Keep Moving The Line - Carrie Hope Fletcher

Kings & Queens - Ava Max

Achy Breaky Heart - Billy Ray Cyrus

She Likes - Forever the Sickest Kids

Boyfriend - Dove Cameron

The Hanging Tree - Rachel Zegler

Hound Dog - Elvis Presley

42nd Street - 42nd Street

La Vecinita - Don Omar

You Matter To Me - Carrie Hope Fletcher

(After going through them again, I genuinely don't remember listening to half of them anytime recently - it's not that I don't listen to music either I have a playlist I play in the car when I'm driving and the songs off that aren't on this list)

[bluemoonperegrine]

Wolf Be Upon Yeet: Part IV

The origin of this series' title is revealed FINALLY.

For anyone who's unfamiliar with this insanity, @vicarious-rebel and I chatted via DM about the Werewolf By Night and Moon Knight crews in her headcanon which includes Elsa’s pet eldritch horror Stony, which had been the Bloodstone but is now literally a monster. Here are part I, part II, and part III. See the very end of this post for links to Stonyverse fics.

On with the show, which gets positively absurd!

Vi’s text is black. bluemoonperegrine’s text is blue. When I can't remember who wrote what, the text is purple.

We previously established that Jack's favorite snack is salmon paste, which is literally pureed salmon. Healthy and delicious! 😂

I can see Marc just trying to cook salmon for himself and werewolf Jack is prowling nearby. He has to constantly shoo him away or distract him while trying not to overcook/burn the food.

Marc grills salmon when he thinks Jack is off running errands or something. Then suddenly, hungry werewolf.

Marc: dammit throws 1/3 of the steak at the wolf, who catches it in midair and swallows it whole

Jack comes back from grocery shopping and immediately smells salmon, sides up to Marc and does the puppy eyes thing Marc: Jack, no Jack: pls? Marc: no Jack: (puppy eyes intensifies) Marc: fuck… fine!

omg, Jack workin' those green puppy dog eyes. Resistance is futile.

He'd bat his lashes. Totally.

His eyes are his greatest weapon and he knows it. Closely followed by his smile.

What if Steven is immune to Jack's puppy eyes bc he himself has puppy eyes energy?

They have puppy-dog-eye-offs IDK who wins really

Now I'm imagining Marc going to great lengths to keep his salmon to himself. After checking Jack's schedule, he checks weather conditions. Takes the grill downwind from the manor.

Doesn't matter. Jack will sniff out the salmon.

Jack can be a formidable persistence hunter when it comes to his fave treats

It's a tie obviously, they both puppy eyes

Jack: "I can do this all day" puppy dog eyes

God help anyone who gets puppy eyes treatment from both of them at once. Insta kill

I can imagine Layla or Elsa "deploying" them both. "Boys, go get 'em."

Have you seen the clip from Mozart in the Jungle where they riff on Gael's eyes? Never fails to crack me up. Rodrigo is such a drama queen.

"WhY aRe YoU sO dRaMaTiC???" he says and falls to the ground sobbing dramatically. Self-awareness: -100

I'm working on my Stony fic now. Doing my damnedest to not let it turn into something… long. IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE LONG, DAMMIT. channeling Rodrigo: "Why why WHY does everything have to be LOOOOONG?"

because the characters are greedy YES it's their fault 😂

Jack is just an enthusiastic cook and wants to feed all his friends. Prime mom friend behaviour.

Yep, and providing for his pack. He's psyched to learn new dishes because he's 237 years old and hadn't been to Ethiopia before.

He has a long list of dishes he can make and he just wants to make it Longer

He's the kind of cook who can just whip stuff up based on what's on hand. If he's totally new to something he'll look at recipes. After that he's just throwing stuff in a pot and it all works out 99% of the time.Jack is intuitive AF in my mind

It's def heightened by his werewolf senses but even without them he's still pretty good at guessing things/reading people

I think he and Jake have that in common bc Jake has certainly had to learn how to gauge people but maybe he's much more suspicious than Jack.

Jake assumes the worst in people. Jack doesn't. He's not naive, but gives people a chance.

Jack wants to give people the benefit of the doubt, whereas Jake is in full-blown Protective mode all the time

Yes. That was Jake's job for most of the system's life

Jake is the mother hen whether he likes it or not. He'll never admit it.

Jack, on the other hand, is pretty open about being a mom friend. He's spent so much time alone that he looooves having a pack to take care of and be with

Jake: fuck all of y'all (one of them bumps their toe or something) Jake: (internally screaming, cue the kill bill sirens)

Jack and found family ❤️

Can you imagine the mother-henning from Jack if one of the MK/WBN crew got sick? Like the flu? omg In my headcanon Jack never gets sick, but still has allergies that make him sneeze a lot.

If Jack so much as hears someone sneeze or cough One Time, that's it. "here's a blanket, drink this tea, get some rest, eat this soup" it's almost overbearing but he does it out of genuine love and concern so it's not like anyone can hold it against him

After he tucks them into bed, he's in the kitchen making chicken soup from scratch and whatever Mexican equivalents are

Plus Marc is most in need of mother henning in those times bc he's gonna be adamant that he's fine and Jack's just not having it.

He needs it and wants it but hates that and tries to deny himself that. Jack just bulldozes through all of that and takes care of him and Marc secretly is all ❤️

Elsa is similar in my headcanon, but not as extreme

Marc: (through clenched teeth) I'm fine (meanwhile he's had a migraine for three days, his nose is stuffy and he just started coughing) Jack: no, you're not (mother hen mode activated)

I'd say Elsa would be similar but in her case it's out of pride (I'm a Bloodstone, I will not be defeated by a mere cold) Jack: Elsa, please Elsa: oh, fine but only because it's my favourite tea

In my Elsa headcanon it's about needing to be invulnerable, not needing any support. (although she does)

She does strike me as a bit hyperindividualistic

[I'm omitting an emotional scene from one of my fics here.]

Jack doesn't understand some of Elsa's behavior, but accepts it. Sets boundaries as needed. And Elsa is totally baffled by him, but grateful.

Mostly she wants to go beat something up.

Elsa: I don't talk about my feelings, I go beat someone or something up about them

Elsa: AND IT'S WORKED PERFECTLY FOR 40 YEARS THANKYOUVERYMUCH

Jack just pouts and shakes his head, "but it's not healthy" Elsa: grumbles

time passes Elsa: Talk later, okay? I'm gonna work the body bag for a bit. Jack: smiles

Jack accidentally catches Stony's eye and freezes Marc: (sigh) Elsa please get Stony, he's scaring Jack again

Elsa quickly trains Stony to not enter the wing of the manor with the kitchen. It's a total no-go zone so Jack doesn't lose his mind.

Idea for a crack fic: Since Jack freezes when Stony stares at him, the gang figures that's one of his powers. So they go on a mission and try to use it.

It doesn't work. The monsters don't care that Stony is staring. The battle doesn't go very well, but the gang wins in the end.

Jake: You're telling me that ONLY JACK freezes from Stony? It's all in his head???

Jack: retorts in agitated Spanish, including something about people living in glass houses throwing stones

Elsa and Layla have to calm everyone down

Yep, with Jack freezing up every time it's understandable if they think it's an ability and not just the resident werewolf tapping into prey instincts he didn't know he had

Jack: Puta madre! I'M AN APEX PREDATOR!

Everyone else: laughs

Steven: actually, you're TWO apex predators

Jack: Right?!?

Jake: snickers

Marc: you'll be the first apex predator to freeze up out of fear Jack: you watch your mouth Marc: careful or you won't get salmon

Comment on a GREAT wbn fic on AO3: "Jack is such a brave cinnamon roll I just want to hug him ❤️ "

I want that on a bumper sticker.

I'm trying to imagine what they'd binge watch on TV

Universal monster movies and Jack's just riffing on them "that's not accurate" "That's what everyone thinks, but actually…" "Dracula is not that cool, come on! Bela Lugosi is hot tho" "dracula has a mean left hook" "cReAtUrE FrOm ThE bLaCk LaGoOn"

In my MK s2 the gang watched Ancient Aliens on the History Channel and had a ball jeering it. Steven got a little incensed at the inaccurate Egyptian stuff, though. But he got over it quickly

MK/WBN crew watching dracula Marc: oh hey that reminds me (calls up Dracula) You still owe me money, bitch

Steven: WITH INTEREST Jack, rubbing his hands: you know, if you want help with him I could chip in

Jack, under his breath: I hate that guy it's personal for him 😂

Marc and Jack hating on Dracula be like You know that whole time travel thing about going back in time to kill hitler? Jack would totally do it to off Dracula

Jack: you can't curse my family if you're Dead

Elsa: practical to an extreme Jack: head-in-the-clouds poet You know, it's kind of like Spike being a vampire. It was genius to make William a soft, sappy poet

it's even better because Jack gets all poetic in life-or-death situations like the whole crypt scene, he talks about family and then he drops the "We could die here" oh so casually

his whole hand-wavy thing describing family being an atmosphere gotta love how he talks with his hands like that

What was it he said? "It's an option. Not my choice, but an option."

WTF, man. 😂

Definitely said like someone who's lived a long, long time

"we could definitely die here but eh, it could be worse I guess"

There are things worse than death. Monsters have seen it 😬

We need a lot more Ted, and definitely them working with MK and Layla!

Jack would so not be phased by Khonshu and Taweret he's be mildly surprised, maybe. Then be impressed by their costumes

another crack fic idea: Jack, having seen way too much in his long life: ok so the thing that gives me hell every month is governed by a mummified pidgeon-headed skeleton, whatever

"cool suit tho"

for reasons, the WBN and MK crew encourage Jack to write poetry. Some of it's good, some not so much. It takes practice.

Jack gets writer's block and gives up.

His friends arrange for Stony to scare the crap out of him. Writer's block goes poof

also "I didn't think the moon would be so petulant"

within a year of Stony hanging around Jack's gray has gone all white 😂

Jack: my salt and pepper hair is losing the pepper

He thought he'd been long-suffering before. Enter Stony 🤣

His friends assure him that he looks great all white. jack still pouts sometimes. Glares at Stony

Jack being all dramatic abt things he's been through and then he sees Stony and goes "I'd still go through it again in place of dealing with That"

In my WIP there's an alternate universe for a little while--I won't get into why--and Jack remembers original him. He soon discovers that alternate him dyes his hair. He's like "Seriously? That's lame" (paraphrasing)

"That's some weak game, me"

fun headcanon time: Elsa once gave Jack a few pairs of her old leather pants bc she couldn't fit in them anymore and to everyone's surprise they fit Jack perfectly

Elsa: I can't squeeze into them anymore but I like them so I don't wanna just throw them away and you're skinny af so here

"Jack, where's my black [something]! You keep stealing it!"

Jack: I'm not skinny. I have a swimmer's physique. (OK, he wouldn't say that. IIRC Niles said that in an ep of Frasier and it was hilarious.)

Elsa: give me back my jacket Jack: no, it's comfy and you can't even close it anyway Elsa: I don't care, it's a fashion statement, now hand it over Marc: Jack, are you wearing Elsa's clothes? Jack: purses lips Jack: it's not what it looks like, I swear Jake: it looks like you're wearing Elsa's jacket and those leather pants are more her style than yours, amigo

Steven: And you both look fantastic in it! 😁

Steven wants to take everyone clothes shopping. Marc and Elsa would rather fight horrible, nasty creatures than do that

Marc and Elsa, the stubborn not-this-mundane-shit duo we didn't know we needed

before long Steven and maybe Jack would be clothes shopping for Elsa. They find really cool stuff actually

Elsa likes it but doesn't want to admit it Layla helps them out bc she and Elsa are the same size and that's how Elsa and Layla end up with lots of matching clothes

It's like an extended cast version of Three's Company (sitcom from around 1980 if you're not familiar), but without the homophobia

Sometimes something just looks So Good on Layla and she likes it so she buys one for herself and one for Elsa

Layla: Jack, I know that's Elsa's because I have the same shirt.

Jack: 👀

Out of convenience and wanting to travel light, the three expect to borrow each other's clothes… too much. So they run out of stuff to wear on a mission.

OK, this is getting really silly now

and to come full circle, Jack rarely steals something of Marc's and that's usually by accident bc Marc gave it to him post full moon shenanigans so he's not naked/cold

Jack would not admit it but he likes Marc's white hoodie the most bc it's very soft

and it smells like his friend

he makes "sweater paws" with it yes the familiar smell is def a comfort

[Omitted because I can't find it 😢 : an image of a small and fluffy white dog whose hair is sticking straight out in all directions due to static electricity.]

Jack after being shrunk by a witch's spell (it'll wear off eventually) and being scared by Stony for the 1000th time

his hair will never be the same again imagine Elsa putting tiny Jack in a terrarium or one of those giant doll-houses

tiny Jack growls ferociously and adorably.

He's an ankle-biter and Kenough ankle-nibbler I'm laughing and crying over here

his tiny jaws aren't even strong enough to leave a lasting mark his struggles are adorable to watch tho

I hated the dollhouse my mom tried to get me into when I was a little girl. She tried her best and had good intentions, but we're very different people. She enjoyed putting together these splintery bits of wood to make tiny furniture, then sand them.

I wanted to get back to putting Barbie's black boots on Chewbacca to make him super tall and beating up Darth Vader and Barbie.

it wouldn't take Jack too long to give up and curl into an adorable ball of sulkiness.

Ted would scoop him up, scold Elsa, and take him away until the spell wore off. He wouldn't let Stony near. he can't have his BFF having a total breakdown. ❤️

oh yeah Ted is definitely not risking Stony getting near tiny Jack

Seriously, I have vivid memories of playing with those OG Star Wars figures.

I lost Luke's lightsaber pretty quickly and was sad. He and his dad had to take turns with dad's.

he could actually get eaten like that

I think at this point Stony wouldn't eat him, but best to play it safe

Stony can still be a lil shit tbh, he'd try it just for sport

omg, tiny Jack with a huge salmon steak bad Stony! Bad! No pukwudgies for you!

Jack just slamming his face in the jar of salmon paste

Marc: I thought it was bad enough when you were regular sized but this is something else

I once volunteered at a ferret rescue.

You haven't lived until you've seen eight baby ferrets with unopened eyes placed around a paper plate with some sort of meat-based soft food. They were fuzzy little worms of nomming eating their way to the center.

Just like tiny Jack would be.

Jack wonders "What did I do to deserve this? And why have things gotten so weird all of the sudden?"

That's what you get for being soft and lovable, my guy and now pocket-sized

Also your ferret mention now got me thinking of Jack tipping over into the jar of salmon paste and just goes "oh well" and starts munching into it Looney Tunes style

Someone later finds the empty jar with a sleepy Jack in it

He's being responsible. Cleaning up after himself until the food coma hits

Elsa tries to make him a purse dog and fails because Jack is a miniature whirling dervish of nails and teeth.

Elsa went from monster hunter to monster gatherer

collect them all! I'd say this is going full circle, but it's mostly spiraling into higher levels of absurdity

How else would we reach "pocket werewolf" territory? I just imagine Jake yeeting pocket werewolf Jack at someone "wolf be upon ye"

He so would! but "wolf be upon ye" (upon yeet?) in Spanish

Tiny jack running in circles around everyone's feet because he wants to go on the mission and help his pack

careful, you'll get squashed

everyone is very careful not to step on tiny wolf jack

Jack: I wanna help Marc: (takes him and puts him in his shirt pocket) there, keep watch Jack: takes his watch duty very seriously (and adorably) just imagine his tiny howl of alarm everyone is momentarily distracted by how cute it is and then they see the danger everyone: Aww!

Someone tries to pick Marc's pockets and get a surprise bite from Jack

The thief yanks his hand back and Marc punches him in the face. Then he holds up still-snarling Jack. "My li'l buddy here's a werewolf, so see ya at the next full moon, pal."

Thief: wets himself

(but it's okay because Jack can't infect others with lycanthropy in my headcanon) The thief doesn't know that tho, so he's freaking out The thief chains himself up for the full moon and is like WTF when nothing happens

but relieved and pissed at Marc and Jack

That sounds like a backstory for a new MK villain It's like MK crossed with Venture Brothers. "I'm gonna find that tiny werewolf if it's the last thing I do!"

Joke's on him, the werewolf is no longer tiny.

The guy's going to monster bars asking about tiny werewolves and getting weird looks. He's thrown out on his ear.

The gang is in there. Maybe Marc is elsewhere at the moment.

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

Stay tuned for part V next week. There's more Tiny Jack Adventures to come!

Stonyverse short fics

“Of blood and stone” by Vi

 “Something Awful This Way Comes” (ao3 link) by me

"In which the Bloodstone is a little shit" by Vi

"The Only One Left" by Vi (no silliness in this one)

[august-bleeds-red]

Texas Heat (Part Two)

Alpha!Tommy x omega!Reader (AFAB). When you find yourself trapped within the Hewitt family’s web of murder, violence and pain, the last thing you expect to do is fall in love.

Warnings: implied non-con, gore. NSFW in later chapters.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

~

Dinner that night is stew.

 You help Luda cut the vegetables, but the meat is already simmering in the pot by the time you come down. Thomas is nowhere to be seen, and when you ask where he is, as casually as possible, Luda answers with a sly grin.

 “Oh, he’s probably workin’ down in the basement. Often doesn’t eat ‘til later, ‘specially when we have guests. He’s awful shy, you see.”

 You don’t mention the way he’d stared at you upstairs – more domineering and intense than anyone else you’d have described as “shy”.

 “I hope you don’t mind me asking—” you begin to say, but she’s already nodding, clearly anticipating your next words.

 “His face?”

 You nod. Setting down the knife she’s using to slice the carrots, she adjusts her spectacles and glances towards the door you presume leads to the basement.

 “He’s awful sensitive about it. We don’t usually talk about it, but I don’t want you to be makin’ any nasty judgements ‘bout him.”

 “Of course not, I wouldn’t.”

 She pats your arm and continues chopping the carrots. “I found him when he was just born. Some cruel no-goods had left him to die in a trash can. Lord knows what filthy things he was exposed to in there before I took him home. He started gettin’ skin complaints when he was a boy. Real bad. The other kids used to tease him for it, call him ‘diseased’. Got too much for him so he took a knife and . . .” She presses the tips of her fingers to her mouth and shakes her head. “Sorry, still gets to me.”

 “I understand,” you say, your heart aching empathetically. “I’m sorry.”

 She pats your arm again and sighs, “You’re a good girl, Y/N.”

 For some reason, she says this with a note of sadness which makes you uneasy again. You don’t have long to dwell on it, though, before Hoyt enters the room.

 “How’s that stew comin’ on, Momma?” he asks jovially.

 You help set the table and bow your head respectfully while Hoyt says Grace, accepting your bowl of stew with a grateful smile. The meat is tender, with an unusual flavour you can’t quite place. You figure it must be some kind of game animal you’ve not tasted before, or herbs mixed in with the broth. It’s good, whatever it is. You help yourself to the cornbread Luda offers you and try not to be disconcerted by the way Monty is staring at you.

 He’s just a dirty old man, you try and convince yourself. Ignore him.

 Though it’s not that late by the time your plate is cleared, you claim tiredness and go upstairs to your tiny room. Closing the door behind you, you wish there was some kind of furniture you could prop against it; the chest of drawers is far too heavy for you to move inconspicuously. You don’t feel quite comfortable enough to change into the camisole you usually wear for sleeping, so decide to remain in your shorts and T-shirt. One night won’t hurt. You brush your teeth in the tiny sink, making a mental note to rinse your toothbrush with clean water before using it again, and curl up on top of the blanket. The air is thick and humid, and you’re soon wishing you could just sleep naked. Your own scent hangs heavy in the air and you curse your time of the month. Even with the precautions prescribed to you, your heat was always strong, but it never has this much of a toll on you. You remember your first – you were ten, an early bloomer, and it had hit you at summer camp. It was the height of August, and the counsellors had found you whimpering in a corner of the dorm, hugging a pillow and grinding frantically against it.

 That was the last time you went to camp.

 Could it be because of Thomas? Is that why your body is reacting so strongly?

 Growling in frustration, you reach for your bag and grope inside for your pills. The doctors only advise taking three pills in a single day under extreme circumstances, but being under the same roof as an alpha as intimidating as Thomas Hewitt strikes you as pretty damn extreme. It takes you almost three whole minutes to realise the awful truth – the pills aren’t there. You know you put them back in the inside pocket earlier, the same place you always do. They’re definitely gone.

 Your heart starts pounding and you feel that prickling sense of danger creep over you again. It would have been easy for Hoyt, Monty, or even Thomas to come in here and take the pills while you were downstairs helping Luda. Which means they know. Perhaps you were kidding yourself that you could lie to them.

 You decide not to take any chances. Even without your car, there was no way you could stay here. Your parents would understand. Perhaps you could even call the cops when you got to the next town and ask them to fetch it for you. Gathering your belongings as quietly as possible, you open the door just a crack and peer out down the darkened hallway. All is still. You manage to make no sound all the way to the top of the stairs, taking care not to step in the centre of each step as you tiptoe down.

 You’re almost at the door when you hear it – a low, keening moan.

 You turn glacially slowly to look at the basement door. You could kid yourself that it was a dog, but you know in your bones that’s not the case.

 “Please . . .” the voice calls plaintively. A girl. “Help me . . .”

 Fear washes over you like a bucket of ice water. You should go – you know you should go. The door is right in front of you.

 “Pleeeeease . . .” the voice sobs.

 Your parents’ faces swim before your eyes. You think of what they’d suffer were you to never come home. You brother, your sister, your friends . . .

 “Oh God, help me . . .”

 “God damn it,” you whisper through gritted teeth. With a quick glance upstairs, you tread as light as a spider down the corridor towards the basement. The girl’s voice gets louder – it’s definitely coming from down there. The door is unlocked when you twist the handle, pulling it towards you just enough to slip inside and down the rickety steps beyond. A large pool of water is gathered at the foot of the stairs, too large for you to avoid. You wince as the damp soaks through your sneakers and socks.

 Two large hunks of meat are hanging from hooks along the wall. You think they may have once been pigs, though the head and limbs are all hacked away. You find the girl – a petite blonde in a short blue dress – on a filthy mattress, roped to a pipe in one corner of the room. She looks as though she’s been there for days, weeks, even. Her skin is bruised, and you can tell by her frightened scent that she’s a beta. You can also smell Hoyt’s potent musk on her – in her hair, in the smears of congealed fluid between her legs.

 She smells you before she sees you, eyes searching disbelievingly in the half-dark. You quickly stifle her mouth with your hand before she cries out.

 “Keep quiet, okay?” you hiss. You pick at the tightly-knotted rope, breaking a fingernail in your attempt to untie it. “Fuck.”

 “Oh God,” she gasps.

 “Shh, it’s okay, I’m gonna—”

 “NO!” she screams, her body falling into a fit of panicked flailing. Her eyes are big and brimming with fear, staring over your shoulder.

 The scent reaches you just before Thomas’s fingers do.

 You duck and back away from the captured girl, who continues screaming like she’s being sliced apart. Every nerve in your body is yelling at you to flee, to fight, to do anything besides what you are doing – which is staring like a deer in headlights up at Thomas approaching you. His scent is almost overpowering, and despite the terror seizing you, you feel a warm stream of slick trickling down the inside of your thigh.

 He gives a sharp intake of breath and rumbles deep in his chest. Your knees tremble, and you unconsciously breathe in the heady aroma surrounding the enormous man. Your breath shudders as it leaves you. Your instincts are commanding you to stay, to submit, to give yourself to this alpha; you can already feel your body leaning into him.

 The basement door slams open and Hoyt’s angry voice preceeds his heavy footsteps.

 “Nuff of this dang caterwauling, some of us’re tryin’ to sleep!”

 He stops dead at the wall of scent surrounding you, and a sly grin takes over his rugged features. “Well, lookee here.”

 Reaching inside his pocket, he pulls out a small foil strip that you recognise instantly.

 “Guess somebody’s not just a plain ole beta after all, huh?”

 “You asshole,” you spit, your disdain for Hoyt overriding your lust for just a moment.

 “That’s not very polite now, is it?” he says. He moves casually towards the whimpering blonde, who stares in terrified anticipation up at him. He reaches down and strokes her hair, and she cringes away from his touch. “Tommy, why don’t you teach this little bitch a lesson in manners?”

 Thomas takes two short strides towards you, but you dart out from under his grasp and sprint towards the stairs. The girl you’re abandoning screams after you, but all you can think of now is to escape, battling the nagging tug at the back of your mind that’s still desperately reaching out for Thomas.

 You somehow make it up the steps and through the door, your footsteps crashing on the boards as you fly down the hall. You throw your entire weight against the front door, splintering the wood surrounding the lock as you burst out into the night.

 You breathe in lungfuls of air as you sprint across the field, heading for the road. You’ve never been a fast runner, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins has you practically leaping like a gazelle. Your feet catch on stones and loose earth, threatening you with a fall, but you just manage to keep your balance. The sound of pounding footsteps behind you sends a sharp spike of fear into your gut, and if you weren’t running you may have vomited.

 You vaguely recognise another sound – a deep, mechanical roar – but you don’t want to risk glancing over your shoulder to see if it is what you think. He’s getting closer, you can smell him, you can hear his laboured breathing, you can feel his fingers grasping at your hair—

 He overshoots you by a good ten strides when you fall to the ground, scraping your hands and knees on hard soil. Turning to face your supine form, he brandishes the growling chainsaw clutched in his massive hands.

 You’re dead. You must be. How can you possibly expect any other outcome from this situation? Scrambling to your knees, you try to rise, but the metal teeth of the chainsaw brush too close; you can almost taste your own blood. Thomas’s eyes, black with rage, focus on you. His chest is heaving, his muscular arms flexing as he prepares to deal the killing blow—

 “Alpha!” you shriek, the word spilling from your tongue before you can recognise its meaning. “Alpha, please!”

 He freezes, arms aloft, staring down at you in surprise and disbelief.

 You crawl forwards, reaching out a shaking hand to touch his booted foot. “Please . . . p-please don’t kill me.”

 He glances up towards the house. You can tell he’s not used to making decisions without approval, but Hoyt isn’t here to spit poison in his ear.

 “I’ll . . . I’ll be yours.” You can’t believe the words you’re saying. “Please, alpha . . . you can have me. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t kill me.”

 He steps back and shakes his head angrily, but not in refusal – more like he’s trying to rid your honeyed words from his head as a bull might dislodge a persistent fly. Taking your life in your hands, you slowly rise to your feet and proffer your sweating hands towards him; the scent from your wrists glands is strong, unavoidable. The chainsaw powers down, and his arms slowly fall to waist-height. You take careful hold of one wrist and detach his fingers from the chainsaw handle. Keeping your gaze locked with his, you part your dry lips and press the flat of your tongue against his own wrist, licking a long, slow stripe. His skin is salty with sweat, the musk beneath deep and earthy, hitting the back of your throat like spice. You feel a shudder pass through his body and go one step further – baring your teeth just enough to nip the tender, swollen skin. The chainsaw falls heavily to the ground as he grabs you, one hand twisting the skin of your wrist, the other securing the back of your neck, fingers knotted in your hair. You stare up at him, heart dancing, skin tingling, fear and lust seeking dominance in your stomach. His teeth are bared behind the gap in his mask, his brow furrowed in bewildered rage and desire. You lift the hand still free from his grip and, as tenderly as though handling a baby sparrow, touch the gland at the nape of his neck. The skin is raised and warm, and his eyes close almost in reverence at the contact.

 “What in Lord’s name’re you doin’, boy?!” Hoyt’s furious voice startles you both. He’s hurrying up behind you, shotgun under one arm, glaring between you and Thomas.

 In a swift, one-handed movement, Thomas pulls you flush against his body, your nose filling with the metallic scent of blood imbedded in his apron – which, it occurs to you, is undoubtedly human blood.

 Hoyt stops in his tracks, assessing the situation before him. You, pliant and submissive in Thomas’s arms; Thomas, dominant and possessive, ready to protect you from the threat Hoyt poses. The older man sighs, chuckling softly.

 “Well, I’ll be damned.” Swinging the shotgun to rest on his shoulder, he shakes his grizzled head. “Y’sure, Tommy? She’d taste mighty sweet with Mama’s hot biscuits.”

 Thomas’s grip tightens and you whimper – he’s about to break your wrist. His fingers immediately loosen, and you see a flash of what could almost be called concern cross his face. Hoyt rolls his eyes and turns, heading back towards the farmhouse.

 “Come on, then.”

 Before you can protest, Thomas sweeps you up into a bridal embrace, pressing your body against his broad chest. Tears prick your eyes as you’re brought back to the place you fought so hard to escape from. As you’re carried over the threshold, Hoyt shoots you a nasty grin.

 “Welcome to the family, Little Miss Omega.”    

~

Comments are greatly appreciated because I’m a needy little trashbag.               

[cowboisadness]

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x F!OC} Chapter 15

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC

Summery: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

Warnings: Canon typical violence but we finally get to see some action!!

.....

The parlour wasn’t as busy as I expected. The tables and booths accommodating a few men each, all of them drinking and chatting amongst themselves after a day of hard work. I had a feeling that was soon about to change.

Hosea called out for the attention of the room, introducing himself as Melvin and Arthur, who was behind the bar at this point still looking sour, as his brother.

The whole space erupted into cheers at the mention of free drinks for the next thirty minutes. Every man and his dog now making their way to the bar at the mention of something too good to be true. 

“Don’t get him mad, though. His momma made him mad and we buried her. Poor thing.”

I stood beside the bar, welcoming men over with a smile and hoped no one wondered why these strangers are just giving away shine. Not suspicious at all.

Hosea called for the music to continue loud and clear and Arthur began pouring for the punters.

Hosea made his rounds, encouraging them to drink more with his cheery smile and rousing words.

Shot after shot was poured. The reserved chatter now nothing but a memory to be replaced by blaring laughter and men slowly but surely losing their feet.

These folks will regret this by morning, that’s if they even remember what happened but it sure was easy money for us. 

“You make this fine shine, Miss?” A man sneaked up beside me at the bar, his words starting to slur.

“It’s our pleasure, sir. Would you like another glass?”

Might as well go along with it “I had a hand in it for sure.” I smiled at him, leaning against the bar with one arm propped up upon it.

“Well, it is mighty kind of you to give it out like this.” 

“Hmm, I sure would like a taste. Ain’t nothing better than a workin’ woman that likes to g-get her hands dirty.” He shot a toothy grin and leaned in towards me placing a hand on my arm that was at my side. I shook him off and moved back slightly but he wouldn’t give up, taking a step forward and replacing his hand, this time on my hip trying in his drunken state to pull me towards him. 

Grabbing onto his arm I pulled him off, staring straight into his bloodshot eyes. 

“I see you have met our dear Alice. Ain’t she something?” Hosea smiled at the man

“Touch me again and that glass will be imbedded into your face,” His brows furrowed in confusion but with the sudden crinkle around his eyes, he took it as a challenge.

Before either of us could say another word, Hosea came up beside us, replacing my hand with his and dropping the man’s arm to his side. 

“S-she sure is. She your sister?”

“Sister-in-Law.” Hosea kept his smile but turned his gaze to behind the bar, me and the stranger following his eye-line. The three of us looking towards Arthur, now ceased his pouring and glaring daggers right at our new friend. I felt my cheeks begin to heat up but couldn’t stop the grin from seeing the man's reaction to this new information. His head snapped back to Hosea with a dumbfounded look. Hosea just nodded slowly. 

“I’d be careful if I was you. She’s the only one he listens to and she just needs to give the word.” Hosea gave a beaming smile with his threat. Mess with her and you will have a man twice your size and with a willing thirst for violence that would do anything for his wife to deal with.

The drunkard was definitely uneasy on his feet now, his head bowed down with a quiet nod he took himself and his empty glass away from the bar.

Thirty minutes had been and gone, the quietness of the night now upon us but the parlour was as lively as it has probably ever been. Men dancing with each other like lovers weaving through tables and fallen chairs. The piano man with one leg perched upon the stool playing like it was the only thing keeping him breathing. One man passed out at the bar, another on the stairs up to the second level. Laughter and shouts bordering on deafening that you couldn’t hear yourself think. A fight was breaking out on the upper floor, one man being tossed by the other. It was chaos. 

The merriment amongst these men was soon halted at the opening of the doors. The men entering with their weapons drawn brought silence. All eyes on them, some putting their hands in the air.

Hosea began speaking from his spot on the stairs looking down at the unwelcome visitors. 

“It’s the Lemoyne Raiders.” I heard one man say.

Never heard of them. This another gang we are enemies with? I looked over to Arthur, he ushering me to get behind the bar with him. 

“Good evening, gentlemen. Quiet libation?”

“You,” the frontman said, pointing his pistol at Hosea. 

“Me?”

“You’re the bastards who stole the liquor we was gonna buy.”

“Gentlemen, we’re in advertising, come on in have a drink.”

“That’s our goddamn liquor!” The man shouted, anger brewing.

“An honest mistake”

“Boys, get ‘em!”

With that everyone began running for cover or an exit. Arthur pulled me down to cover behind the bar, hat and pipe now nowhere to be seen and both his weapons in hand. Telling me to get my gun, stay at his side and shoot if I have too.

I just nodded wildly and fumbled at my side. Bringing the gun up level with my chest with a shaky finger hovering over the trigger and watching ahead of me. 

Upstairs was a bombardment of bullets, glass and broken wood. Keeping my gun in front of me ready to pull the trigger if anyone got insight. 

Shots ran out between the raiders and Arthur and Hosea. Bottles shattering above the bar and glass raining down as shots thankfully missed their mark.

I realised I had a tightening grip around Arthurs’s leg when he pulled away, pulling me up beside him and over the bar towards the stairs. Keeping me behind him as he shot anyone coming through the door. 

He kept me behind him, shielding me from the onslaught, men dropping all around us. 

Arthurs steady hand on my back pulls me out of my sudden hesitation, prompting me to climb over and jump down. Landing with a thud in the back of the wagon and my knees throbbing with the hard contact.

“Arthur help!” Hosea calls out from the other side, in battle with another man. I raised my pistol without thinking but before I could think of my aim the man dropped, his head nothing but a spray of blood and tissue.

We made our way towards Hosea who was calling us out to follow. Arthur with his back turned facing the doors now behind us. The doors ahead, beyond the poker table, opened to a man aiming straight at Hosea.

I didn't hesitate, I couldn’t. My body in flight mode but my brain decided on fight. I shot. Two rounds hitting the mark causing him to falter and stagger back. Hosea turned at that, finishing him off with a shot to the head.

Arthur pushed me forward from where I was rooted, urging me to keep moving no matter what.

We make it out onto the balcony, Hosea already down and on the wagon. 

Arthur followed right behind me not even pausing before climbing up to the front. 

We were maybe a few steps into the safety of the woods when he broke the silence.

Hosea spurred the horses to move as fast as possible to get out of there as more raiders came out of the shadows. Hosea passing me one of the rifles that were at his side.

Arthur didn't hesitate, aiming and taking down three men within seconds like he was in some kind of trance.

My heart was in my throat, trying to steady my breathing as I aimed over the side of the wagon to shoot at those getting closer. Not like I was doing a grand job of it but I was able to hold them off while Arthur finished them off.

They kept coming as we travelled further out of the shitty little town. One bullet hit the few bottles of shine left at my side erupting them into flames. The intense heat meeting my skin had me pushing myself up and away but I was being dragged back too. We couldn’t stop for a moment so I quickly reloaded with whatever ammo I had left in my shirt pocket and started shooting again. A few men falling off their horses at my doing.

It began to quiet, the last few stragglers being dealt with swiftly before we turned off the road. My and Arthur left Hosea to take whatever was left of the liquor back to Mrs Baraithwaite as a peace offering, leaving me and Arthur to walk back to camp through the cover of the trees. 

“You alright? Sorry about that whole mess, I shouldn’t have let you come with us.”

“I’m fine. Wasn’t like I wasn’t expecting something to happen, but almost being on fire was a surprise.” I giggled sheepishly. He stopped me then pulling on my arm “Shit i - you sure you’re not hurt?” He checked my arm and down my side, looking for any signs of burns.

“Yes, I’m fine. I’d say if I wasn’t.” I smiled at his concern, looking at him then. His eyes met mine with one of concern but that soon melted away once he realised I was truly okay.

After a few moments, he looked down, his trusty hat now covering his face. His hand still on my arm.

“Good shootin’ by the way.”

“Well, I had a good teacher. Could do with a few more lessons I believe.”

“Give me a time and place darling,” he said as he lifted his gaze from his feet and back to me

I beamed up at him then, seeing something in his eyes I couldn’t quite place. I thought back to our last shooting lesson. His hand on me, his breath fanning over the back of my neck. What almost happened as we sat under the shade of the tree. I could feel the relentless wings of the butterflies in my stomach as I looked up at him then, his hand still on me that seemed to burn my skin more than fire.

Might as well take my chance.

“I don’t say it enough but...thank you...for what you have done for me. I don’t know where I would be without you and - you and your kindness means the world to me.” I stood up on my toes then, reaching to place a kiss on his cheek, lingering longer than necessary. My hand now gripping his arm holding me and my free hand coming up to cup his other cheek before letting go. 

I was ready to let that be that and to walk back to camp. But the look in his eyes when I didn’t move away had me frozen in place. My breath becoming shallow and my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. Calculating our next move. 

My breath hitching as I felt his free hand on my waist.

Then his lips were on mine. Kissing with such hunger that our grip tightening on each other, like we were running out of time. But time was nothing but a distant idea at that moment.

@kashasenpai

[p3ach3snplums]

                     Ｙｏｕ  Ｗｉｌｌ  Ｂｅ  Ｆｏｕｎｄ

Listen ( x )

@scorpiusmmalfoy​

1.- ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ʙʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴇᴠᴀɴ ʜᴀɴꜱᴇɴ ᴏʙᴄ

Have you ever felt like nobody was there? Have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere? Have you ever felt like you could disappear? Like you could fall, and no one would hear? Well, let that lonely feeling wash away Maybe there's a reason to believe you'll be okay 'Cause when you don't feel strong enough to stand You can reach, reach out your hand And oh, someone will coming running And I know, they'll take you home Even when the dark comes crashing through When you need a friend to carry you And when you're broken on the ground You will be found So let the sun come streaming in 'Cause you'll reach up and you'll rise again Lift your head and look around You will be found You will be found You will be found You will be found You will be found There's a place where we don't have to feel unknown (Oh my god, everybody needs to see this) And every time that you call out You're a little less alone (I can't stop watching this video, seventeen years old) If you only say the word (Take five minutes, this will make your day) From across the silence your voice is heard

2.- ꜱᴏ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪ ʙʏ ʙᴇɴ ᴘʟᴀᴛᴛ

You say, "What if I go crazy?" I say, "That ain't gonna happen" You say, "What if I get lost? I say, "You'll just find your way back" And you say, "What if someone breaks my heart?" I'll put it back together like I do You say, "What if I don't catch the dreams That I've been out there chasing?" "What if when my fears show up, I'm too afraid to face them?" Well, I can't fight your battles But I sure can hold your hand and promise you That the sky will still be up there And the sun will always shine The stars will keep on fallin' For the ones who wish at night The mountains won't start moving And the rivers won't run dry The world will always be there And so will I

3.- ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜɴ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɪɴᴇ

Yeah, in the end tim�� will find us all Dressed in our best One last deep breath As we turn towards the sun Towards the sun....  Yeah, I just hope you felt no pain at all No pain at all I just hope you felt no pain at all No pain at all As you turn towards the sun Towards the sun

4.- ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴍᴇ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʀᴀʏ

Lost and insecure You found me, you found me Lyin' on the floor Surrounded, surrounded Why'd you have to wait? Where were you? Where were you? Just a little late You found me, you found me

5.- ꜱʜᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴏꜰꜰ ʙʏ ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀ ꜱᴡɪꜰᴛ

But I keep cruising Can't stop, won't stop moving It's like I got this music in my mind Saying it's gonna be alright 'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake I shake it off, I shake it off (Whoo-hoo-hoo) Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake I shake it off, I shake it off (Whoo-hoo-hoo)

6.- ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ ʙʏ ʙʀᴜɴᴏ ᴍᴀʀꜱ

We'll find out what we're made of When we are called to help our friends in need You can count on me like one, two, three I'll be there And I know when I need it, I can count on you like four, three, two And you'll be there 'Cause that's what friends are supposed to do, oh, yeah Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh, yeah, yeah

7.-ᴏɴᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ʙʏ ᴄʜᴀʀʟɪᴇ ᴘᴜᴛʜ

I'm only one call away I'll be there to save the day Superman got nothing on me I'm only one call away Call me, baby, if you need a friend I just wanna give you love C'mon, c'mon, c'mon Reaching out to you, so take a chance No matter where you go, know you're not alone I'm only one call away

8.-ᴛʀᴜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀꜱ ʙʏ ᴄʏɴᴅɪ ʟᴀᴜᴘᴇʀ

You with the sad eyes Don't be discouraged Oh I realize It's hard to take courage In a world full of people You can lose sight of it all And the darkness inside you Can make you feel so small But I see your true colors Shining through I see your true colors And that's why I love you So don't be afraid to let them show Your true colors True colors are beautiful Like a rainbow

9.-ɪ´ʟʟ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ʙʏ ɢʟᴇᴇ ᴄᴀꜱᴛ

And I'll remember The strength that you gave me Now that I'm standing on my own I'll remember The way that you saved me I'll remember Inside I was a child That could not mend a broken wing Outside I looked for a way To teach my heart to sing And I'll remember The love that you gave me Now that I'm standing on my own I'll remember The way that you changed me I'll remember

10.-ᴡʜᴏ ꜱᴀʏꜱ ʙʏ ꜱᴇʟᴇɴᴀ ɢᴏᴍᴇᴢ 

Who says, who says you're not perfect? Who says you're not worth it? Who says you're the only one that's hurting? Trust me, that's the price of beauty Who says you're not pretty? Who says you're not beautiful? Who says?

11.-ʙʀᴀᴠᴇ ʙʏ ꜱᴀʀᴀ ʙᴀʀᴇɪʟʟᴇꜱ

You can be amazing You can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug You can be the outcast Or be the backlash of somebody's lack of love Or you can start speaking up Nothing's gonna hurt you the way that words do When they settle 'neath your skin Kept on the inside and no sunlight Sometimes a shadow wins But I wonder what would happen if you Say what you wanna say And let the words fall out Honestly I wanna see you be braveWith what you want to say And let the words fall out Honestly I wanna see you be brave

12.-ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴜʀ ᴏᴋ ʙʏ ᴏʟɪᴠɪᴀ ʀᴏᴅʀɪɢᴏ

Does she know how proud I am she was created With the courage to unlearn all of their hatred We don't talk much but I just gotta say "I miss you, and I hope that you're okay"

13.-ɢɪʀʟꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜰᴜɴ ʙʏ ᴄʏɴᴅɪ ʟᴀᴜᴘᴇʀ

Oh daddy dear, you know you're still number one But girls they wanna have fun Oh girls just wanna have That's all they really want Some fun When the workin' day is done Oh girls, they wanna have fun Ho hoo girls just wanna have (girls) fun (they want) (Wanna have fun) (Girls) (Wanna have)

14.-ᴏɴ ᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴀʏ ʙʏ ɢʟᴇᴇ ᴄᴀꜱᴛ

We are young We are one Let us shine for what it's worth To your place, place, place We're on our way, way, way We're on our way, way, way We're on our way somehow Hold me close, close, close We're losing time, time, time We're losing time, time, time We're falling to the ground

15.-ᴄᴀꜱᴛʟᴇ ᴏɴ ᴀ ʜɪʟʟ ʙʏ ᴇᴅ ꜱʜᴇᴇʀᴀɴ

Found my heart and broke it here Made friends and lost them through the years And I've not seen the roaring fields in so long I know I've grown, but I can't wait to go home I'm on my way Driving at 90 down those country lanes Singing to Tiny Dancer And I miss the way you make me feel, and it's real When we watched the sunset over the castle on the hill

16.-ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ ʙʏ ʙᴇɴ ᴘʟᴀᴛᴛ

Yeah, you say I'm your hero But you are the one that saved me If I ever lost you I'd fall to my knees I can't imagine my life without you I can't imagine one night without you If something happened, don't know what I'd do I can't imagine, I can't imagine my life without you

17.-ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʙʏ ᴄʏɴᴅɪ ʟᴀᴜᴘᴇʀ

If you're lost you can look and you will find me Time after time If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting Time after time If you're lost, you can look and you will find me Time after time If you fall, I will catch you, I will be waiting Time after time

18.-ᴅᴏɢ ᴅᴀʏꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʙʏ ꜰʟᴏʀᴇɴᴄᴇ + ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇ

The dog days are over The dog days are done The horses are coming so you better run Run fast for your mother run fast for your father Run for your children for your sisters and brothers Leave all your love and your longing behind you Can't carry it with you if you want to survive

19.-ʟᴇᴀɴ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ ʙʏ ɢʟᴇᴇ ᴄᴀꜱᴛ

Lean on me, when you're not strong And I'll be your friend I'll help you carry on For it won't be long 'Til I'm gonna need Somebody to lean on

20.-ᴍʏ ᴅᴀʀᴋꜱɪᴅᴇ ʙʏ ɢʟᴇᴇ ᴄᴀꜱᴛ

Everybody's got a dark side Do you love me? Can you love mine? Nobody's a picture perfect But we're worth it You know that we're worth it Will you love me? Even with my dark side?

21.-ᴍᴀꜱ ᴏꜱᴄᴜʀᴏ ʙʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ

Te sientes mal, no ves final Con los ojos llenos de lágrimas Se cae el cielo y no das más Quieres luchar un poco más Pero ese miedo volvió a ganar Tranquila, ahí voy a estar Tan solo llama, no escondas nada Confía en mí A cualquier hora, nunca estás sola Me tienes a mí En tu momento más oscuro Si algo te duele, yo te curo No te preocupes, yo te ayudo Te ayudo, no hay que sufrir En tu momento más oscuro Y aunque el abismo sea profundo No te preocupes yo te ayudo Te ayudo a salir de ahí No te preocupes yo te ayudo (te ayudo) Baby no estés triste Tienes quien te cuide Nadie te vuelve a dañar (Nadie te vuelve a dañar) Tú me sostuviste, y me defendiste También de mi oscuridad

22.-22 ʙʏ ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀ ꜱᴡɪꜰᴛ

It feels like a perfect night To dress up like hipsters And make fun of our exes Ah-ah, ah-ah It feels like a perfect night For breakfast at midnight To fall in love with strangers Ah-ah, ah-ah Yeah, we're happy, free, confused and lonely at the same time It's miserable and magical, oh yeah Tonight's the night when we forget about the deadlines It's time, oh-ohI don't know about you But I'm feeling 22 Everything will be alright if You keep me next to you You don't know about me But I'll bet you want to Everything will be alright if We just keep dancing like we're 22, 22

23.-ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ ʙʏ ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀ ꜱᴡɪꜰᴛ

Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you Your braids like a pattern Love you to the moon and to Saturn Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long

24.-ᴡᴇɪʀᴅ! ʙʏ ʏᴜɴɢʙʟᴜᴅ

Come hold my hand Hold it tight We're in a weird time of life Don't wreck your brain It'll be alright We're in a weird time of life

[he-flies-me-to-the-moon-and-back]

There’s Cas

“There’s nothin’ wrong goin’ on between us, babe. I was at home with Cas all the time. Ain’t cheatin’ on ya, if that’s what ya think,” Dean explains.

“Then? Why can’t you spend time with me in my apartment if you got nothing better to do?” asks Leona.

Nothin’ better to do? Dean asks himself the same question. It’s not like I’m wastin’ my time with Cas. We had fun. That’s definitely somethin’ better to do.

He Flies Me to the Moon and Back - Chapter 3

The last argument Dean and Castiel had over the idea of Castiel leaving him for LA once he’s hitched got Dean all wary and cautious around Castiel. It has been two weeks since that argument happened, and Dean is no longer away from their apartment for more than a day. Dean would always come back home before the day ends, even if he was spending his time with his girlfriend. He tries to keep Castiel company and entertained despite his busy schedule.

Dean doesn’t want Castiel to leave Long Beach. Not to his expense. He is afraid Castiel is going to reconsider his idea back whenever he feels like this place is no longer worthy to be staying. Dean is terrified of that outcome.

Hence, after he is done with his work shift at the florist (Dean thinks it’s a good front to covering up his true identity), Dean hurriedly grabs his bag from the back room of the store where staffs keep their belongings, and he goes back to the front store towards the flower bouquet displays. He looks around and expertly snatches a bouquet of calla lilies off the rack before he makes his way to the exit.

“Tell Brian I’ve paid for these,” says Dean as he opens the store entrance with his large body after he twirled around by the door, showing a big grin on his face to Maria, his co-worker who is now standing by the counter. “I’m out!” Maria chuckles and cries, “Okay!” before the door closes behind Dean.

With a bouquet of flowers in his hand, Dean walks on the pavement with light steps on his feet. He hums under his breath a merry tune. His lips are smiling from ear to ear. His face glows with happiness.

He can’t wait to be home.

He checks his wrist watch on his left hand and notices the time. He’s not home yet, he reminds himself. He takes out his phone from his jeans’ pocket and instantly pushes the call button on “Cass”. The phone rings a few times before there’s a click sound at the end of the line.

“Hello, Dean. What can I do for you?”

“Hey. Where ya at, Cas?”

“I’m at the park. Why?”

“Ya workin’?” Dean skillfully avoids himself from bumping into another man on the sidewalk before he decides to stand still against the glass window of a shop. He can’t be talking and walking on this crowded street at the same time.

“Yeah. I’m walking Sebastian’s dog. Why?”

“When are ya gonna be home?”

“Maybe in an hour or so? I’m gonna grab a few buns at the bakery. You want anything, Dean?”

“Nah. Don’t think I want buns today. What’s for dinner anyway?”

Dean can hear Castiel’s humming at the end of his line as he is thinking about a good answer to Dean’s question. “We ate burgers last night. Pizza two nights ago. So… spaghetti?”

“Sounds awesome. I’ll see ya at home.” Dean is about to hang up before he remembers something. “And DON’T LET THAT DOG STEER YA AWAY FROM YA PATH! We both know how that ended the other day.”

It is quiet at Castiel’s end. Dean knows that Castiel is trying his best not to sigh if not rolling his eyes at Dean’s sharp comment. “Alright, Dean.”

Dean smiles victoriously after hearing Castiel’s defeating answer. He can’t help but chuckles a little as he continues walking back home to their apartment.

________

Dean is humming to the song Eye of The Tiger while he gets off the elevator once he reached his floor. He keeps on humming and air-strumming the guitar with his eyes closed as he approaches the apartment when suddenly he hears a familiar voice.

“Dean …”

He immediately opens his eyes just to see Leona standing at the door to his apartment. Her arms are folded across her chest. Not a good sign in Dean’s opinion.

“Leona! What brings ya here?” he asks with genuine surprise in his tone.

“You?” Leona answers sassily - she is clearly dissatisfied about something that Dean has done.

Dean frowns. “Me?” He unlocks the door and lets Leona enter first before him. He closes the door behind them and follows Leona to the living room where she has seated herself on the leather couch, staring at Dean in an unamused manner. “What about me?” he continues to ask as he sits down next to her.

Leona glares softly at him before she begins to speak. “What happened, Dean? Why suddenly you’ve changed?”

“Changed? Me? Whadd’ya mean?” His eyebrows are now knitted closely to display his confusion.

Leona sighs deeply in order to calm herself down. She doesn’t want to accuse Dean of anything before she learns about everything she needs to know in regard of the issue between her and Dean. “We were good a month ago. You spent a lot of time with me back in my apartment. But then, suddenly… you just changed.”

Dean listens attentively to his girl’s words.

“You no longer sleeping in my apartment. You always wanna go back to this apartment urgently, as if there’s some emergency back in here – EVERY – SINGLE - DAY.” Leona takes a deep breath and lets out another big sigh. “I’m just saying that we ain’t spending time together much nowadays. Should I know something, Dean?” she asks earnestly while staring at Dean.

Dean becomes speechless as he’s being questioned by Leona. He doesn’t know what to say to her that wouldn’t come off like he’s clinging onto Castiel from leaving him alone. His brain tries to come up with a reasonable answer that can bury Leona’s suspicion while at the same time protecting his image.

He sighs lightly. “There’s nothin’ wrong goin’ on between us, babe. I was at home with Cas all the time. Ain’t cheatin’ on ya, if that’s what ya think.”

“Then? Why can’t you spend time with me in my apartment if you got nothing better to do?”

Nothin’ better to do? Dean asks himself the same question. It’s not like I’m wastin’ my time with Cas. We had fun. That’s definitely somethin’ better to do.

Luckily he doesn’t say that out loud. He glances at Leona and takes her hands into his, holding them firmly to convey his reassurance thru touch. “I’m just tryin’ to keep Cas happy, that’s all. He’s alone here, ya know. And he only have ME here in this big city. I can’t just leave him alone in this apartment.”

“Then what about making ME happy, Dean? Is my happiness doesn’t count to you?” Leona pleads with her eyes. Dean feels trapped.

“Leona …” he sighs. “I will try to spend time with ya more, alright? I’m sorry.” He leans over towards Leona and pecks her lips softly, trying to reassure her yet again. Leona is on the fence with Dean’s words - she’s not sure if she can rely on his promise in this case. But she eventually cracks a smile on her face and nods understandingly.

“Okay. I’ll be expecting YOU at my house tomorrow, mister.” She gives Dean a light kiss on his lips before she gets up off the couch, making her way to the door. “I’ll be going now. See ya later, babe,” she says as she opens the door. Then, her eyes catch the sight of the calla lilies bouquet. “Nice flowers,” she beams brightly before closing the door behind her.

Dean flashes a big, warm smile back at her as the door shuts. Instantly a deep sigh escapes his lips, feeling drained by the conversation he just had with his woman. “Damn,” he says, “I’m so damn exhausted right now.”

Suddenly, the door lock makes a clicking sound. Apparently someone is trying to unlock the door from the other side.

“IT AIN’T LOCKED, CAS,” Dean says loudly from where he’s seating.

Castiel emerges from behind the door. His face is frowning, as per usual. “Why didn’t you lock the door?”

Dean shoots Cas a dirty look. “I just got home, Cas. I forgot to lock the door.”

Cas glances at the door and Dean alternately before he locks the door properly and joins Dean in the living room. “Well… You shouldn’t be forgetful. We might get robbed next time.” Castiel nods his head passionately. Dean rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Alright. I’ll do that next time.” Then, he leans forward to reach for the flower bouquet.

“Here’s flowers for ya,” Dean says casually as he hands over the bouquet to Castiel, who naturally receives it into his hands. He steals a glance at Castiel to see the angel’s reaction. Since he sees nothing more he wanted to see from the smiling angel, he nonchalantly lies to cover his ass, “I got 'em for free. They almost gone bad.”

“Wow… Thanks, Dean. I love calla lilies,” Castiel responds gratefully while taking a whiff of the beautiful flowers. “Oh! I got you apple pies from the bakery.”

Dean smiles widely at that statement. “Awesome!”

[ammunitionist]

a small gift brings a little life to king company. 

or, ack ack finds a guitar- and hillbilly remembers how to play. 

ao3 here | full first chapter under the cut

Ack Ack honestly has no idea what it is for a good minute. 

He doesn’t bother to get up to check- never stand when you can sit- so the wooden thing leans, an odd little enigma, just in the peripheral of his sight for the better part of ten minutes. It’s definitely wood, he can tell from the hint of grain at a distance. The angle is just so that the neck looks uniform, that he can’t see the strings at all. It almost looks like a broom handle. 

It isn’t that Andy’s never seen a guitar. He’d had a friend in high school who played (just not very well) and guitars were common enough in small town New England. It wasn’t unusual to walk down the street at dusk and hear some old timer picking away at the instrument.

It’s funny to think back on himself, sixteen or so, thinking of anyone as elderly. With the new recruits popping up around him on the daily, he’s starting to feel like an old timer himself. 

Ack Ack tries to ignore the odd chunk of wood, get in another nap before sundown, but they’ve been eating good lately. Sleeping good, too. He simply has too much energy to let go of the curiosity. 

Without moving- never sit when you can lie down- he calls out to the man sitting closest to him, scribbling in a small book held in his left hand. 

“Hey, Sledge,” he asks genially, his hands resting behind his head. “What’s that wooden thing over in PX? I can’t see it all too well.”

Eugene looks up from his book almost too fast, glancing first at Andy and then leaning over to scrutinize the object of interest. Ack Ack stifles a small smile at how eager the mortarman is to please. 

“Hell, Skipper,” he says, blinking. “It’s a guitar.”

“Really?” Ack Ack says, almost embarrassed at his lack of observational skills. “Shit, I am getting old. I thought it was a broom.” Sledge laughs, because of course he does, but Andy’s already sitting up, looking directly at the handle of the thing. The neck, he recalls its specific name being. Slender and slightly curved, it looks out of place with the crudely made shipping crates stacked around the PX. 

“Is that all, sir?” Sledge asks. Andy barely acknowledges it, too occupied with the discovery. He nods, waving the younger man off with a hand and a vague ‘yes, Private’.

Hillbilly plays guitar. Ack Ack knows because he mentioned it once, and just once, but that’s the kind of information you store away for people you care about. Somewhere in the long list of things Andy knows about Eddie- a list riddled with question marks, smudges, and the not infrequent total censor- is the fact that he plays.

 He learned from his daddy, apparently. That was the kind of skill they handed down in the Jones family. Workin’, fightin’, n’ the guitar, Eddie had put it, the end of his cigarette a glowing ember in the darkness. He only really taught me th’ middle one. 

Andy hadn’t interrogated, but between that one night and the other things on his list about Eddie Jones, he’d figured out what that meant. 

Knowing Hillbilly played the guitar just- always did something to him, something strange. Not like giving him a hard-on, it was never the subject of a sexual fantasy, but some aspect of the idea of Hillbilly’s large, callused hands cradling the neck of an instrument was an image that stuck in his mind. Knowing a man like that could make music- enjoyed it, even- just pushed Eddie deeper into Ack Ack’s heart. 

Despite himself, Ack Ack slowly hauls himself to his feet, brushing sand from his palms on the nearly-compromised fabric of his dungarees. No one pays him much mind, just another man wandering towards PX. The Seabees had touched down about a week ago, so the postal exchange is more or less looted, but Ack Ack has no burning desire for candy bars or magazines. 

Still, when he gets there, he feigns interest in the dregs of merchandise. Back issues of Superman, a few melted Hershey’s chocolates, a copy of Sports Illustrated. If he beelines for the guitar, the corporal sitting in the corner will definitely upcharge him. Pocketing an extra few dollars was never above the Merchant Marines, and this young man- chubby, blonde, picking something out of his teeth with a Jap bayonet- looks like no exception. 

Finally making the wide, lazy half circle to the guitar, Andy feigns mild interest in it, tilting the head of the instrument towards his belt. Upon closer inspection, it’s practically beaten to pieces- the body has a fair few dents in it, and a concerning looking crack runs nearly the entire length of the neck. One of the tuning pegs had been replaced with a roofing nail at some point, poking out like an odd splinter at a not-quite right angle from the headstock. 

“You play?” The corporal asks lazily, examining a caught piece of food on the end of the bayonet with catlike self-satisfaction. 

“Me? No.” Andy shakes his head, letting the guitar back to rest against the crates. “One of my boys does, though.”

He almost smiles to himself when he refers to Hillbilly as one of his ‘boys’. It’s not unlike calling the White House a ‘big ol’ mansion at 1600 Pennsylvania’. 

“He any good?” the blond asks. Andy shrugs, pocketing his hands discreetly. He really has no idea if Hillbilly is any good, but it doesn’t matter much if he is or not. Ack Ack would pay out in spades to see him play even if he couldn’t sustain a single note.

Upon receiving no verbal answer, the corporal takes Andy’s silence as permission to keep chatting. He sighs and sets the bayonet down, kicking his feet up on the shoddy crates nearby. The containers creak ominously.

“That there belonged to Johnson. Buddy of a buddy, or somethin’.” 

Ack Ack glances at the corporal in mild interest, mostly playing along in favor of a discount. 

“Went lookin’ for some dead Japs to loot a couple nights ago.”

Andy figures what happened before the man finishes his thought, but that doesn’t stop him from clarifying. It’s with a sick glee that Ack Ack only sees in men that have never once seen a friend die in their lives. 

“Got blown to hell on a landmine. Skipper said to put the thing in the PX or use it as firewood.”

“Ah.” Ack Ack says, less keen on the conversation than he would be to sitting on a land crab in his skivvies. The corporal grunts in acquiescence.

He almost up and leaves the exchange there and then. What kind of earthly gift would a dead man’s guitar be? Hillbilly’d show no outward insult, likely feel none inward either. Ack Ack can’t begin to express in words the amount of gratitude he feels for Eddie’s tolerance. Still, he deserves better than this. 

But where else could he find a guitar in the whole of the Pacific?

“How much?” he asks succinctly, looking up from his boots. He hopes the curtness in his tone reminds the corporal of their ranks, of his decidedly upper hand. 

“Seven dollars.” The blond replies, eyes narrowing slightly. Andy has to stifle a scoff. 

“It’s not worth more than three, Corporal,” he sighs, nudging the body of the instrument with his boot. “Look at it. Beat to hell.”

“Six.”

“Four.”

“Deal.”

He leaves the postal exchange with the thing in hand, simultaneously lighter than it looks and much, much heavier. Sledge glances up at him with interest as he walks by, glancing between Ack Ack and the instrument. 

“You play, Skipper?” he calls out as Andy passes, heading deeper into K Company’s cluster of men. 

“No!” Ack Ack replies, a wry smile countering Eugene’s expression of confusion. 

Hillbilly never went far from King Company, but he also avoided its center. Ack Ack liked to think he prowled its perimeter like some kind of guard dog, keeping an eye on even the rowdiest of the unit. It’s a reliable kind of safekeeping, one that Andy has come to value more as they’ve moved further towards the mainland. Both for himself and his men, that protection is beyond invaluable. 

He’s smoking a cigarette up against some concrete rubble, the slowly setting sun dying his pale brown hair a burnt orange. Between the small ember at the end of his cigarette and the dying light, Hillbilly’s almost golden. 

Ack Ack sits down quietly in front of him, the slight sound of shifting rubble enough to garner a glance from his Lieutenant. His eyes catch on the guitar and linger, though, and Andy holds it out- an offering. 

“Where th’hell did y’ get that?” Eddie asks, sitting up to take the proffered instrument. Andy shrugs, pulling a crushed carton of cigarettes from his breast pocket. 

“PX.” he replies simply, biting one out of the package and lighting it with a quick turn of his wrist. 

Eddie turns the guitar over in his lap once, twice, three times, examining it. Andy watches mildly, his eyes catching on the neck of the guitar resting in the crook of Hillbilly’s palm. His stomach warms, just slightly, the sight of the slender thing in his lover’s hand like a hot cup of coffee on a cold morning. 

“How did y’ know I play?” Hillbilly asks again, tone slightly sotto with confusion. 

“You told me.” Ack Ack answers, mildly surprised that Hillbilly forgot. “A few months ago. Remember?” 

Eddie shakes his head vaguely, but his attention has already re-allocated to the instrument. He settles it in his lap, the curve in the hollow body fitting over his thigh. It’s a small guitar- that, or Hillbilly’s just bigger than the last person Andy saw holding one- but he still supports it comfortably. 

He runs his fingernails across the strings experimentally, and both of the men wince in tandem.

“Is it broken?” Ack Ack asks, momentarily worried that his gift is damaged beyond utility. Hillbilly snorts. 

“Nah,” he sighs, a wolfish smile cracking his face in half. Ack Ack has never quite seen him smile like that before. 

Unbothered, Eddie turns one of the pegs in the head, thumbing the top string in rapid succession. The tone wobbles slowly higher. 

“Jus’ outta tune. I think I can handle it.”

Andy smokes as Eddie coaxes the instrument into tune, slow going considering the state of it. It’s a pleasant experience, to hear the strings slowly come up to par, and the surprising gentleness with which Hillbilly tunes it brings up the warmth in Ack Ack’s belly to a low simmer. To watch his broad hands dance across the head, fiddling with the pegs, is certainly an odd sight for the middle of the Pacific Theater, but it’s one Andy more than welcomes. 

Finally, Hillbilly strums the guitar’s strings again, and even though the sound is unremarkable Eddie seems to find it satisfactory. 

“Does it play?” Andy asks, tapping his cigarette on a nearby block to ash it into the sand.

“Well, why don’ we find out?” Eddie grins. He adjusts his hand against the neck of the guitar and strums carefully, a gentle note ringing out from its body. Tension leaches from Andy’s shoulders immediately. Between artillery, rifle fire, and bodies hitting the dirt, it feels like the first soft sound Ack Ack’s heard in months.

“Oh,” he breathes, and Eddie glances up to meet his eyes. They both pause for a moment, holding the gaze, before another smile breaks Eddie’s face and they start laughing. The absurdity of it is captivating. A fucking guitar, here, in a warzone. A flimsy, breakable little thing that somehow made its way to them unbroken. It feels like watching a daisy bloom on the rim of a shell crater. 

“Shit, sir,” Eddie chuckles, broad shoulders shaking in amusement. “I didn’t think I’d be seein’ one of these for a long time yet.” 

Ack Ack has to grin. The sun had all but fully set in the time it had taken Eddie to tune the guitar, and the long shadows on his companion make the moment all the more absurd, a strangely stark figure against the rubble.  

Small fires have started up again throughout the camp. They dot the landscape like little flowers, flames blooming upward into the black sky. Ack Ack and Hillbilly have a favorite, one nearest the Captain’s tent, and relatively sequestered. Them, Haney, and a few select NCOs. It’s a good crowd, and none of them say anything if Hillbilly’s hand drifts a bit close to Ack Ack’s knee, or if Ack Ack’s head dips momentarily onto Hillbilly’s shoulder. They’re still careful, of course, but it’s good to know that a toe over the line goes unnoticed, for virtue of respect or some other unnamed force.

They get up in tandem and wander deeper into King Company, towards their fire ring of choice. Haney is sparking at some dry tinder just as they arrive, coaxing a small flame to life under the larger logs. He glances up as they settle in, eyes falling on the guitar in Hillbilly’s fist. 

“The Marine Corp,” he starts, sitting back with a grin. “Must practice leisure with the same fervency as the act of war.”

Hillbilly smiles at him, the exact same accommodating smile Ack Ack gives to the Gunny when he starts his tangents. Ack Ack settles back, shifting in his seat. 

“And in that leisure,” Haney continues, a wolfish grin splitting his weathered features, “Each Marine must be invested in his brother’s recreation as well as his own.”

Eddie nods, equal parts amused and obliging. Haney gestures at the instrument.

“Play us a goddamn tune, Jones.” 

Eddie adjusts the guitar in his lap, fingers hovering over the fretboard in hesitation. 

“I, uh, I ain’t played in a long while,” he starts, but Ack Ack nudges his side at the same time Haney gives him a genial wave of the hand. No one minds. Even bad music will be the first melody any of them have heard in months, other than the terrible raucous ballads that swell up among the men sometimes. Ack Ack tolerates those songs for the morale boost they are, but he never feels an impulse to sing along. 

Hillbilly arranges his fingers against the fretboard and strums quietly, picking up a lazy pattern. Ack Ack watches his nails hit against the strings, his strong fingers even further golden in the firelight than the dying sun. He has the same sheen as a bronze statue, like the ones Andrew had seen in the greens at Bowdoin.

Eddie swaps the chord, pausing for a moment in between. He swears under his breath, obviously frustrated with his apparent rustiness. 

In the protection of the shadow between their bodies, Andy presses a supportive knuckle into Eddie’s side, up underneath his jacket. 

His skin is warm to the touch. 

After a few minutes of fumbling around the frets (and growing gradually bolder), Hillbilly pauses, letting his arm fall from the guitar’s neck. He swipes the back of his hand across his nose discreetly, glancing around the circle to gauge his company’s apparent tolerance. Ack Ack follows his gaze, just to realize they’d accumulated somewhat of an audience. Five, maybe ten of the enlisted men from a nearby group had heard the quiet strumming and crept up on the edges of the firelight to listen. From where he sits, Andy can recognize Burgin and Shelton, meaning Sledge probably isn’t far. 

“Why don’t you fellas come and join us?” he calls genially, gesturing for the men to have a seat, instead of crouching in the semidarkness like a bunch of house cats. They start, with the guilty countenance of children caught in the cookie jar, but move into the light anyway.

“Instead of standing out there like a bunch of Peeping Toms, at least.” Andy murmurs, settling in subtly closer to Eddie. From what he knows of the men, they’re either dumb as a bag of rocks or queer themselves, so there should be no issue with their standard dance on the edge of obviousness. He knows Hillbilly probably isn’t happy with the added volume, but Ack Ack figures it won’t do any of them much harm for a little

entertainment. 

“Just play them one song and I’ll make ‘em leave,” he murmurs into Eddie’s neck, making it look like a subtle stretch on his part. “Promise.” 

Eddie sighs, shifting uncomfortably, but Andy knows that he’ll do it. He knows that Eddie will do anything when he asks like that. 

It makes his heart stutter a bit in his chest. 

The strings squeal faintly as Hillbilly leans back, tongue running over his teeth while he considers his options. “Any of you, uh, heard’a Midnight Special?” he asks tentatively. 

“I have,” Snafu interjects, drawing most eyes in the circle to him. His accent is deeper than Hillbilly’s, and his drawl makes his Is into long, lazy ‘ah’ sounds.

“Can’t sing, though.” he adds, picking something from his teeth. 

Someone snorts. Ack Ack’s pretty sure it’s Sledge. 

“Well,” Eddie sighs under his breath, nearly contemptuous, but he doesn’t finish the thought. Instead, the guitar starts up again, and everyone settles in a bit closer. The fact it’s music would probably interest most of them alone, but Andy has no doubt most of these men would pay real money to hear their very own Lieutenant Jones sing a ditty.

The introduction to the song lasts for a while, a simple and slightly jaunty chord progression, but right as Ack Ack is starting to think Eddie’s stalling he opens his mouth and he sings. 

His voice is nothing special. A gentle, sweet tenor, making up for lack of range with modesty. It’s about the voice expected of a man who played music as a child and fell off, being as his instrument of choice is not included in the provisions of a Marine. 

It may be nothing special to everyone else in the world, but to Andrew, it’s fucking magical. 

“Yonder comes Miss Rosie,” Eddie intones, over the soft notes of the guitar. “How in the world you know.” 

All at once, some otherworldly tiredness sinks into Ack Ack’s bones. 

It’s strange, though, to call it that. He had felt exhaustion before- Hell, almost every single day since their landing on Peleliu- but this is different. Hillbilly’s voice makes him want to rest, to tuck his head into the crook of Eddie’s shoulder and let his voice carry him away to gentle oblivion.

“Well, I know her by the apron,” Hillbilly carries on, a loud pop from the fire interjecting in the middle of the lyric. No one so much as jumps. They’ve all been through worse. “And that dress she wore.”

“What kind’a dress?” Someone calls, to quiet chuckles. Ack Ack smiles faintly. If there’s nothing else to be said for King Company’s crude banter, it’s at least endearing. 

“Umbrella on her shoulder, Piece’a paper in her hand.” Hillbilly sings. A couple men have joined their circle since the song began, ones apparently more familiar with the music the Lieutenant grew up on. Their voices join in slowly, crooning the ballad towards the smoke rising into the black sky. Andy doesn’t mind- with his proximity to his lover, Eddie’s voice easily overpowers the rest. 

A few more lines pass like that, slurring together in a pleasant melody in the Captain’s head. He has to fight to keep his eyes open, but he doesn’t struggle after fixing them on Eddie. 

His curls burn amber in the firelight, same as the angular plane of his cheek and just the barest corner of his jaw. With his eyes closed and lips parted, Hillbilly looks like a fucking fever dream of a man. 

“Let the Midnight Special,” They all sing at once, loud enough that Andy’s pulled from his momentary reverence. Even Snafu joins in, apparent vocal ineptitude nothing but another one of his little quips. 

“Shine her light on me.” 

Ack Ack watches the smoke from the fire carry sparks up towards the stars.

“Let the Midnight Special,” he joins in quietly, a second after realizing the lyric repeats.

“Shine her ever-lovin’ light on me.”

[katsuukiwii]

Proud- Levi X Reader Chapter 3

Chapter 3: “Workin’ 9 to 5...Or Longer” Chapter Warnings: Language A/N: Got told to “get my life together.” Jokes on them, I never had a life to ruin in the first place lmao

“Proud” Update Schedule

Levi hears his alarm go off, rolling over and blindly smacking his phone to turn it off. He checks the time, 4:30pm. “Hm? SHIT! I have work!” He gets out of bed, grabbing his uniform and lanyard. After he’s done getting dressed he calls Hanji.

“Hi, Levi! What’s up?”

“Is Liam alright if he stays overnight? I thought I’d be able to pick him up at 6 but I forgot I work both-”

“Levi!” Hanji cuts him off, “it’s fine, he’s here with me.” He hears Liam's small voice over the phone as he gets into his car, “it’s okay Papa! Aunt Hanji will take care of me! I love you!”

“I love you too, honey. Thank you so much Hanji. You have a key, right? You can stay at our place. It’s better than moving all of his stuff between places.”

“Sounds good! Cya, Levi!”

“Bye you two.” He smiles as both voices shout out a “goodbye” back to him, before hanging up. 

… 

Hanji sighs, picking Liam up, “It’s just you and me today! What do you wanna do?” Liam gives a toothy grin, “Let’s go see Win-Win,” Hanji instantly noticed Erwin’s nicknames given to him by the small boy, “can we go to the park after?” The larger brunette nods her head, grabbing her keys and their jackets, putting Liam down and helping him put on his jacket. The boy flaps his hands happily, and Hanji raises a brow. ‘He’s never done that before. Guess he’s really excited.’ She shrugs it off nonetheless, sitting Liam in her car and getting in the driver's seat. “Let’s go see Win-Win!”

… 

Levi lets another dog out of their cage, “Poor things. They don’t let you have any fuckin’ freedom.” Yup, it confused people when the strong and blunt Levi Ackerman worked at a shelter. Levi lets the last dog out, opening the door to the fenced-in yard, “Come on babies, let’s go outside.” They all happily run out and Levi smirks. Yeah, it was a lot of work, but it was worth it. After all, the dogs weren’t treated the best by the other workers, so it was up to him to give them the best life he could here. He shuts the door and goes to clean the cages, giving them fresh food, water, and after he takes a quick look at all of them, checking for fleas or any infections. 

Finally, he steps outside and gets to spend time with the puppies! A small chihuahua walks up to him as he reaches out to pet it, “Hi Snuggles,” Snuggles gives his hand a few licks and he picks up the dog. Levi started volunteering at this shelter when he was 17, and finally started working for pay when he was 18! Over almost three years, he’s grown fond of these dogs, especially Snuggles! Snuggles is an angry chihuahua, who growls and snarls and bites at anybody. Sounds like Levi?? Yup, that’s exactly how he grew a bond for the fuzzy creature. He couldn’t adopt him though, he didn't have that kind of money. So, he wanted to treat the pup the best he could until someone adopted him. He didn’t want to let him go, but he knew it would be better than keeping him in a cage all his life.

…

“Uncle Win-Win!!!” Liam runs into the man’s house as soon as Erwin opened the door, “Oh, Liam! We’re supposed to ask first, remember?”

The brunette boy walks over and looks up at his uncle, “Can we come in, please?” Erwin smiles, nodding his head and letting them in, “So, what brings you two here?” Hanji walks over to him, tapping his nose with her finger, “Well, I get to spend the day with Liam! I asked him what he wanted to do, so he asked if he could see you.” Everybody knew those two had feelings for each other, Erwin was a high school senior, 18 years old, and Hanji was Liam’s first grade teacher, 24 years old. They hadn’t gotten together because to most it seemed strange. Levi however, kept nagging at Erwin to ask her out, he thought as long as they were both of legal age, it was fine.

The tall man walks over, squatting down to the boy’s level “Well that’s fun. What do you wanna do, Liam?” The boy gives him a wide smile, “Park! Park!” The two adults laugh, and Erwin speaks up again, “I’ll go get my coat then!”

...

Levi finally walks into his house at one in the morning, exhausted. He then notices not one, but two figures sprawled out on his couch. Hanji and Erwin, he shakes his head and walks upstairs to check on Liam. Sure enough, the boy is asleep in his bed. Levi leans over, gently pecking his forehead before changing out of his OTHER uniform and grabbing a melatonin tablet. Two jobs, a kid, and insomnia was a lot to handle.

[bamby0304]

Her Saviours- Ch.30

Series Masterlist

Summary: During an odd case, the Winchesters came across Y/N, a scared young Omega girl who had been used as a lure for a nest of vampires. After rescuing her from the monsters, John and his sons took her in knowing she was in no state to live among ordinary people. But three Alphas and one Omega is a mixture bound for disaster.

Warnings: Explicit language. ABO dynamics. Angst. Violence. Kidnapping. 

Bamby

You sat on the hood of your truck… well… the truck you’d stole two days ago. It was about time to ditch it. Right now, however, you were focused on the flames in front of you. During the month you’d been on your own you’d managed to gank a total of three ghosts by yourself. Sure, it wasn’t like you were wrestling werewolves and wrangling wendigoes, but you felt pretty badass nonetheless.

This particular ghost had been a bitch to get down. He’d clawed you up like a damn cat. You’d barely had the strength to toss your lighter into his grave, which was located in the middle of the woods. His hands had been so tightly wrapped around your throat you knew for a fact there were already bruises forming.

Sam and Dean would kill you if they knew what you were doing.

You’d ditched your phone the second you’d ditched the Winchesters. Of course, you weren’t a complete fool. First you sent out a message to Bobby, letting him know you were safe but venturing off on your own. You knew he’d let the boys know as soon as they started pestering him for information.

Normally you went to him after a fight. Whenever you’d needed a break from either the brothers or John, you always ended up at Bobby’s. They knew that. It’s why they’d been bugging him last time you’d runoff. He might not have given away the details but they would have known, deep down, that you were there with him.

Not this time, though. No, you weren’t taking the risk. Having been gone for so long, Sam and Dean would have actually dragged their asses to Bobby’s to drag you back with them. Part of you kinda wished you could have seen the look on their faces.

With the flames dying down, you sighed and climbed off the truck. Slipping in behind the wheel, you turned her on, backed up, and decided to head south. You’d heard about a guy that had gone missing one state over, and how a kid who was witness to it was insisting he’d been taken by some kind of monster.

It wasn’t much, but it was something. If it turned out to be the kid’s wild imagination then you could always just move on to the next thing. Until then, you had nothing to lose, no reason not to go check this thing out.

…

Rolling through the town, you pulled out your disposable phone to check the time. It wasn’t late or anything, but you doubted the kid’s parents would appreciate you knocking on their door at this hour. So, instead of pursuing the case, you decided to stop by the local bar.

You left the car you’d picked up earlier that day on the side of the road a few blocks away from the bar. Carrying what little you had, you headed for the bar, hoping your suppressants would do their job and keep unwanted attention away from you.

So far you’d had some decent luck being out alone in society. An Omega your age would normally be with a mate or an Alpha or Beta carer. You were young and therefore presumably weak, timid, and… ripe for the taking.

With the way Dean, Sam and John stressed all the time, you had imagined you would’ve been harassed a million times over by now, but you’d barely had to shrug off a dozen Alphas during the month on your own.

You were really starting to believe things weren’t as bad as you’d feared.

The second you walked through the bar’s door all eyes turned to you. Perhaps I should rethink that theory…

Keeping your head held high, you made your way through the small crowd and headed for the first free table you spotted. Dumping your things on one of the free chairs at the table, you sat yourself down and focused on not paying anyone any attention as the gazes slowly drifted away from you.

“You okay, darlin’?”

Looking up, you smiled at the Omega waitress standing in front of you. She was pretty, red hair, a little bit of a tan that almost hid the littering of freckles all over her. She was tall for an Omega, and not as shapely as your kind normally were. She was different, charming looking but not in the typical sweet Omega way. No, she looked like she could handle herself.

Your eyes flickered to her neck, noticing the many scars on display. One sniff of her though and you could sense that those marks were all from the same Alpha. She was practically saturated in his scent.

“My man gets a little paranoid with me workin’ in a place like this. Doesn’t matter that I can kick his ass, he still frets over all these hungry animals.” She cracked a grin.

Lifting your gaze back up to hers, you smiled back at her. “I know a few Alphas like that, too.”

She nodded. “You’re pretty tiny, but I can tell you’d be able to knock a dog down a peg or two if you needed.”

It wasn’t the prettiest of compliments you’d heard but it made the Omega in you waggle with praise. You didn’t tend to feel that capable of yourself so for someone to suggest otherwise made you feel pretty amazing.

“Still, you okay honey? Young thing like you might be able to handle herself but that don’t mean you won’t stay outta trouble.”

“She’s not alone.”

Your back went rigid as all the hairs on your body stood on their end.

Their scents hit you then. You’d been so focussed on the Omega waitress, you hadn’t bothered keeping track of your surroundings. You didn’t think you’d need to with her watching your back in a way. But you could smell them now.

The unmistakable scent of ginger and musk, coffee and rosewood, with gunpowder and molasses.

Shifting in your seat, you looked over your shoulder at the two Alphas.

Dean was glaring at you with that disapproving look he’d perfected after having taken care of Sam as a kid. He was relieved- at least you hoped he was- he just wouldn’t show it until he was certain he’s made you feel guilty enough.

Sam, on the other hand, was filled with relief. Much like his brother, however, you knew he’d show more of his true feelings later. The younger brother was softer until you were alone with him. He could be scary if you didn’t find it so attractive.

“Darlin’, we got a problem here?” the waitress asked, eyeing the brothers. “I can get these two kicked outta here, all you gotta do is say the word.”

Chewing on your lip, you shook your head. “We’re fine. I know them.”

“Okay.” She relaxed a little, but with the way she was still eyeing the brothers, you knew she would stay true to her word and kick them out if you changed your mind. “Just wave me over when you’re ready to order.” Giving your arm a squeeze, she then headed off- not before giving the Winchesters one last warning glare.

Not caring about the death glare he and his brother were getting, Dean stepped up to you as Sam slid into the seat across from you. Your eyes were on the eldest of the two, though, as he continued to look at you with complete disapproval and disappointment.

“You have any idea how worried shitless we’ve been?”

“I can take a guess.” You shrugged, knowing your casual demeanour would only piss him off further.

His jaw clicked as he clenched it. “This isn’t funny, Y/N. You’ve been gone a month. We thought… we had no idea if you were even alive.”

It had been a thought that had plagued your mind with guilt during the time you’d been alone. Your adventure had not come easy. You knew everyone would be worried about you, and being an Omega meant you felt the need to fix that. You wanted to reassure everyone that you were safe and sound, but the only way to do that was to give in and give up.

Things just weren’t so black and white anymore. Hell, you were beginning to realise that they’d never been black and white. You were stuck between three Alphas who couldn’t or wouldn’t give you the commitment you needed. Without that commitment, you had other urges. You wanted to be your own self.

Being with the Winchesters had its restrictions. Dean and John had proven time and time again that you would always be held back. With Dean, it was only to a certain point, but it was still a point you didn’t like.

Leaving gave you space. You didn’t have to watch them flirt with anyone else. Dean was the worst, going from girl to girl. Sam was bound to join in eventually- and you hadn’t forgotten the year and a half he spent with Jess. John wasn’t around to be a problem but you could recall the countless times he’d picked to settle between someone else’s thighs rather than yours. Knowing they all had someone else to turn to, and chose to do so, etched away at your self-esteem and sanity.

You also got to escape the tension that had been growing between you and the brothers. Slapping Dean had been the last straw, but before then there’d been warning signs. Sam and Dean had been fighting and posturing over you for weeks. They’d been competing, both consciously and subconsciously, for a while and it had taken its toll on all of you. Running away meant running away from that.

“I needed a break. To be honest… I think we all did,” you countered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t think I don’t remember what made me run away, Dean. I slapped you.”

His gaze softened then, as his thoughts went back to that day. “You didn’t mean it.”

“In the moment I did,” you argued. “And whether you meant what you said or not, you still said it. We both made mistakes. We were going to keep making them.” You gestured to Sam then. “And you two were going to keep trying to dominate the other. I had to go, for everyone’s sanity.”

“We went crazy looking for you,” Sam spoke. You looked over at him, seeing some of that earlier softness in his eyes fade. “If you were so worried about our sanity you should have said something. Running away only made things worse.”

Again, you shrugged. “Not for me.”

“Sure,” Dean scoffed. “Say that to the bruises on your neck.” Shaking his head, he finally took a seat. “What the hell happened? An Alpha get to you?”

Tugging on your jacket’s collar, you tried to hide the bruises as much as possible. “It was a ghost, actually.”

Dean clenched his jaw again.

“You’ve been hunting?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” you answered honestly and shortly. “And before you get your panties in a twist, they’ve all been salt and burn cases. Ghosts only. I’ve been playing it safe.”

“We can see your fucking neck, Y/N. Is that really what ‘playing it safe’ is supposed to look like?” Dean barked.

The two of you just glared at each other, neither one of you backing down. It was a rare moment where you refused to give in to your Omega instincts and let the Alpha win. Having been on your own, it seemed you’d grown a rebellious streak.

“Okay…” Sam interjected, sensing that the tension between you and hit brother was only going to keep growing until someone snapped. It would inevitably end you you two fighting or fucking- neither of which you could do in public. “The case.” He looked to you. “Are you here because of the missing guy?”

“Yeah.” Nodding, you begrudgingly tore your eyes away from Dean and turned to his brother. “Heard some kid was a witness and insists it was a monster.”

“He was watching horror movies at the time,” Dean noted.

“And local police have now ruled out foul play,” Sam added. “Apparently, there are worse signs of a struggle.” He gestured to the file he’d set on your table. “I’ve done some research.”

A smile tugged onto your lips. “Of course.”

Dean rolled his eyes, staying on track. “Well, they could be right, it could just be a kidnapping. Maybe this isn’t our kind of gig.”

“Yeah, maybe not. Except for this,” Sam pulled out John’s journal from his jacket. “Dad marked the area, Dean.” He turned to a page and showed you and Dean. “Possible hunting grounds of a phantom attacker.”

Taking his father’s journal, Dean frowned at what was written on the page Sam had turned to. “Why would he even do that?”

“Well, he found a lot of local folklore about a dark figure that comes out at night,” Sam noted. “Grabs people, then vanishes. He found this too.” He took the journal back and flipped a couple of pages. “This county has more missing persons per capita than anywhere else in the state.”

As Dean took the book once more, you didn’t care to look at what Sam was showing. You were too distracted by the sight of the leather-bound book. It was the most important object in John’s life. He loved and cared for that thing like it was a living being. You’d been taught to respect and trust it. Seeing it again, after having been gone from the Winchesters for so long, you felt a strong pang of guilt, regret, and loneliness hit you.

“That is weird.” Dean closed the journal and gave it back to his brother, drawing your attention back to reality. “Don’t phantom attackers usually snatch people from their beds? Jenkins was taken from a parking lot.”

“Well, there are all kinds. You know, Spring Heeled Jacks, phantom gassers. They take people anywhere, anytime.” Sam really had done some research.

It was then that you realised you would have been going in blind. If it wasn’t for the Winchesters showing up, you would have dived headfirst into this case and either left thinking it was nothing, or died because you knew very little on phantom attackers.

Maybe this hunting alone thing isn’t something I should be rushing in to...

Sam sighed, putting the journal away. “Look, Dean, I don’t know if this is our kind of gig either.”

Not needing his brother to say anymore, Dean nodded. “Yeah, you’re right, we should ask around more tomorrow.”

“Right.” Sam hesitated a moment before he turned to you. “I saw a motel about five miles back… you’re joining us right.”

“Whoa, whoa, easy.” Dean put his hand between you and his brother, waving until Sam turned to him. “We just got here.”

“You can stay, but… I wanna catch up with Y/N. And we should really get an early start,” Sam suggested as he rose from his seat.

“Catch up?” you asked, looking up at him.

“You’ve been gone for a month. I just wanna know how you’ve been,” he assured you with a kind smile.

You returned the smile and nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I think we can manage a simple chat.”

Looking between the two of you, Dean sighed and got up. “Fine, we’ll head over to the motel.” He shook his head at his brother. “You really know how to have fun, don’t you, Grandma?”

Sam grinned triumphantly, proud and happy that he managed to win the argument- if you could call it that.

Rolling his eyes, Dean look to you then. “I’ll meet you two outside. Gotta take a leak.” Turning to you, he leaned in to kiss your cheek. “Wait for me.”

He was insecure, unsure, uncertain. You’d left without saying goodbye once… you got the feeling he would be worrying for a while.

“Sam and I will wait for you,” you assured him.

Pulling back, he gave you a short nod and then headed for the bathrooms.

“Come on.” Sam reached under the table and grabbed your two bags you’d stashed under there earlier. “I’ll show you where the Impala is.”

You followed him as he led the way, walking out of the bar. Now that you were with Sam, you felt fewer gazes lingering on you as you left. Before, when you’d been alone, the looks had been more intense, hungry. Now, they were mostly curious. You’d forgotten just how different things were when you were with an Alpha. 

“So…” Sam looked over his shoulder at you as you both continued to walk through the parking lot.

“So?”

“How have you been?”

You cracked a knowing smile. “You mean other than all the hunting and stuff?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Are you… are you okay?”

“Sam.” You came to a stop, looking up at him. “I’m tired. I’m stressed. I’m lonely. I don’t know where I stand. I’m an Omega with no direction. I want to have freedom, but to be honest, as great as this month has been, I’m not going to deny that it was lonely. I missed you and Dean like crazy.” You weren’t going to tell him that you cried yourself to sleep most nights. “Just like how I miss John. Maybe even more. I’ve never been on my own like that before. It was scary. But after a while… things got a little better. I really did think me leaving was for the best.”

“It wasn’t.”

He wasn’t arguing or accusing you. Looking up at Sam, you could see that he was just trying to explain his side of the situation.

“We got back to that motel room and you were gone. Dean… Dean went out of his mind. He and Cassie had talked and he’d explained everything to her. He ended things with her. Clean cut. She won’t be calling again unless it’s an emergency. You literally slapped some sense into him.”

At the mention of the slap, you flinched and looked away.

“He doesn’t care about it, you know. It was a shock, but… Dean forgave you the second he saw the guilt on your face. You regretted doing it right away, and hated yourself for it. I knew you were gonna punish yourself… I just didn't realise you were going to punish us in the process.”

“I wasn’t punishing you. Either of you. I just… I was tired of you two fighting over me. I was tired of not knowing where I stood with you. I was tired of having to compete for Dean’s attention. I was tired. I still am tired.”

“Running away isn’t the answer.”

“It sure did feel like one at the time.”

He watched you carefully. “Would you do it again?”

“If I got to go back in time? Yes.” You gave a short nod. “But am I planning on leaving again now? No.”

It was the truth. It didn’t mean you wouldn’t change your mind in the future, but for now you were certain you were going to stick with the brothers. The fact you’d randomly bumped into each other kinda made you think this is where you had to be. Plus, freedom was nice, but you missed the brothers. You were gonna make sure you had more say in your own life, but you missed having the Alpha presence.

A noise had you both tense and turn towards a nearby car. It had sounded like something had been pushed over.

Placing your bags on the ground, Sam pulled out a torch and got to the ground to take a peek under the car. He jumped as a cat hissed at him.

You laughed. “You alright there, Sammy? Did the kitty scare you?”

“Ha ha ha.” Turning off his torch, he got himself back to his feet, rolling his eyes at you.

“Come on, scaredy-cat. Show me where Baby is.” You grabbed one of your bags.

As Sam leaned down to grab the other someone jumped out from the side of the car. You opened your mouth to warn Sam, but before you could speak you felt something hard and heavy hit you in the head.

Falling to the ground with a heavy thump , you landed next to Sam as he was knocked out as well. You looked up at your grinning attackers, then everything went black.

Bamby

[badsuburbannightmare]

‘all the stars melt down like butter.’

‘i'm trippin’. i was up all night workin’ on a guitar part.’

paul blackwood late ‘05.

i first met you then in new cross, and though i couldn’t keep my shit together to stay around for long at that time, you were someone that i felt some kind of odd kinship with, a warm tentative friendship. and that first of many great lines. this was a person you don’t normally get the random good fortune to meet.

..i could tell you’d led an interesting life already. you were thinking’ about starting anarchistwood then. i remember one time, you had fliers for a subterfuge night, i think. this was interesting. this is really something. i knew i must have thought. there was this gentle way you negotiated a conversation with me. this warm, older, kind, funny presence. it felt like kindred spirits.

after i'd lost the plot and went, i got in contact with you thru punkvert.tv. (’wising up the marks since ‘93′.) i think i was staying different places temporarily.. off the rails, it felt like chaos. it felt like a returning nightmare. 

you said you’d been looking for me (after i'd already gone), and had brought a demo  for me to see if i'd want to play in your band.

this is something i lamented greatly, wishin’ there’d been some way i could have kept it together to be around for. but it or i went the way that it or i went. 

i think i'd started makin’ these shitty homemade tape recordings. one i thought of as ‘dan’s drone tape’ i think. i'd play in these made up weird tunings and record to four track. again i think i'd play what i'd recorded thru a boombox and then record me playin’ to that. and i remember saying some things as i was doing it. i think i was losing my mind again. i think one other tape had my dog in it and i'd record the cassette at one speed, then speed it up when i dubbed it thru a stereo somewhere. i always liked sped up slowed down voices on tapes (butthole surfers). strange, sad times in some ways. yep, i was losin’ it again and soon to be taken out of the action. i'd mail them out and some compilations too in the midst of some weird mania/psychosis.

but you seemed to like them.

we kept up intermittent correspondence over the years. and i remember you writing me and sending me a cdr of thee anarchistwood demos, and telling me about your first show in pink kkk robes. i think you were reaching out, but it took some time for me to get this, and to be in a location to show up in maybe ‘08 or ‘09 to some of your subterfuge nights (’well I been tryin’ - paul). i remember you asking about the places i'd been in.. i think you wanted to understand - thing’s had not been going well and i was in bad shape now an obese guy in tracksuits. but you welcomed me in with the aforementioned warmth, kindness and humour. you even had me stay a couple times. something i never forgot.

to chequered pasts and long intermittent friendships. 

for feeling something, and giving a shit.

and to making things.

yours was a presence that never went away for me, and knowing that this writing is at best an opening (a so called part one of some thing i’ll never finish), i'll end this in saying that your friendship had a special place in my heart, and knowing i can only write from my end, something that i will always remember with such great fondness for as long as i am still around. and in knowing that i'll never meet someone like you ever again. and though that is in a sense a great sadness, it also says how special you always were. it is with such fond gratitude that i say goodbye for now. and though i'm sad that you had to leave, and it is so hard to think of you being in such pain, your spirit was set free. and i know that i’ll never forget or regret a moment spent in your good presence.

good to know you,

good to hear you.

yours,

cosmic x

..in closing ‘you know about death,

that it’s just a change, 

not the end.’ (log lady deputy hawke phone call twin peaks the return)

and

..’under the stars we are all insignificant’ (nic roeg ‘insignificance’)

and your a part of it all now.

so, i'll sign off for now, old friend, with love.

(prank rock till theee ‘end’ .

paul ‘candi’s flipped’ blackwood - thee maelific jester and on .)

.

[eddiesnapback]

if you’re all alone, pick up the phone || streddie

a gift for @darkwingdukat for the @itfandomprompts secret santa! i hope you like it! 

Summary: Stan is in love with his best friends. It's a problem. Or is it? Ship: Streddie Warnings: light angst in the middle, something sort of along the lines of a panic attack, but everything turns out okay

also on AO3

Stan wasn’t entirely sure how he’d found himself tucked between Richie and Eddie on Richie’s tiny twin bed, a stack of VHS tapes balanced precariously on said boy’s bedside table, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. There was no reason to complain at all, in his opinion, despite the fact that Richie’s bony elbow was digging into his ribcage and Eddie’s head was heavy on Stan’s left shoulder.

Eddie flipped the page in the comic book he was reading, rolling his eyes. “Can you just pick a fucking movie, Richie?” he asked, lifting his head from Stan’s shoulder to glare over at Richie.

“I’m workin’ on it, Spaghetti,” Richie said, shooting Eddie a bright grin. He shoved his glasses further up his nose with the back of his hand. “But no one is giving me any opinions.”

Stan heaved a theatrically large sigh and leaned away, letting Eddie flop against the pillows. “Let me see,” he said, tugging a trio of tapes out of Richie’s hands. He flipped through them, eyes skimming the back covers, as Eddie scrambled upright. From the corner of his eye, he could see Eddie sprawling over Richie’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. 

Stan’s stomach flipped with jealousy. “Ghostbusters,” he said, glancing away from the boys. He tossed said movie towards the foot of the bed. “We’re watching Ghostbusters.”

“Again?” Richie asked, gently disentangling himself from Eddie to put the movie into the VCR. “Fuck, I know you’ve got the hots for the Stay Puft guy, Stan the Man, but jeez.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Beep fucking beep, Richie,” he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. 

He could feel Eddie’s eyes on him, staring at the side of his head, but resolutely stared forward. He didn’t want to see those stupid brown puppy dog eyes full of concern, staring into his soul the way that Eddie always did. He hated it. 

Richie turned to look at him, a frown settling across his face, and Stan had to look away from him too. The light reflected off of his glasses to cut some of the worry on his face, but it wasn’t enough to hide it completely. And Stan hated that too.

They shouldn’t be worried about him, was the thing. There was no reason. They should be throwing him out of this room in disgust, actually.

Because what kind of messed up best friend was Stan to be in love with his best friends who were dating each other? Just the thought made Stan’s stomach roll, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Are you okay, Stan?” Eddie asked quietly, his voice small in the dim light cast by Richie’s lamp.

Stan bit his lip, staring resolutely at the wall above the television. There was a picture tacked onto the wall there, one that he could just barely make out. Richie, with his arms thrown over Stan and Eddie’s shoulders, grinning cheesily at the camera. They were maybe fourteen at the time. Stan knew that because Richie had still braces, and the thick frames of his glasses were taped together in at least three places; Eddie was wearing a crisp blue polo shirt from back when his mother still choose what clothes he wore; and Stan himself had a tight-lipped smile that was hiding braces of his own. He was turned towards Richie and Eddie, rather than the camera, and the look of complete adoration in his own eyes was enough to make Stan flush red even four years later.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, wincing at the sharp way the words slipped from his tongue. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to not be in that room anymore. He stumbled clumsily to his feet, following that desire. “I’m going to get popcorn.”

With that he hurried across Richie’s room, barely slow enough to pick his way around the maze of discarded clothing and comic books that littered his floor. His left big toe narrowly missed one of Richie’s school notebooks, which had papers filled with equations spilling onto the wood floor. 

He closed the door tightly behind him with slightly more force than necessary and squeezed his eyes shut. “Pull yourself together, Stanley,” he mumbled to himself, before setting off downstairs.

As a kid, Stan had always liked coming over to the Tozier’s house. It was bigger than his own, and messier, but in a lived in way that didn’t make his hands shake as much as it should have. Richie’s older sister, Rebecca, had never seemed annoyed when Stan had slipped away from the noise of his friends on occasion, and had always been willing to let him revel in the quiet of her room. She’d said on occasion that Stanley was like the little brother she’d never had. (Richie had always sputtered indignantly at that, but his eyes gave away his smile.) Stan been just a little devastated when she went away to school when they were twelve.

And if Bex Tozier was a surrogate sister to Stan, the Toziers were a second set of parents. Went and Maggie were busy, but they were always willing to open their home to Stan and the rest of Richie’s friends. Maggie, especially, was always willing to lend an ear to him if he needed it. 

Stan padded into the kitchen on autopilot, easily locating the popcorn (second cabinet from the fridge) and sticking it into the microwave. While he waited, he slid into one of the stools at the breakfast bar and crossed his arms in front of him. He lay his head in his arms and closed his eyes, only keeping half an ear out for the popcorn to slow in its popping.

“Something on your mind, Stanley?” Maggie Tozier’s voice cut through the gloom fogging up Stan’s brain, and he jerked upright. 

Richie’s mother stood on the other side of the breakfast bar holding the bag of popcorn between her thumb and forefinger. She had one eyebrow raised, and her glasses low on her nose so that she could peer over them. “You almost burned the popcorn,” she added, raising the bag as if to illustrate the point.

“Sorry, Mrs. Tozier,” Stan said sheepishly, sliding off of the stool and moving to take it from her. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

She hummed knowingly. “About Richie and Eddie?” she asked, pursing her lips. 

Stan flinched, taking an involuntary step backwards. “What?” he asked, his jaw falling open just a little bit. 

Maggie smiled softly. “I don’t know anything,” she said, voice light. She was lying - Stan knew it. He just didn’t know what about. “You know, my son cares about you an awful lot, Stanley.” 

“He’s my best friend, Mrs. Tozier - both of them are,” Stan replied. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he felt distinctly like he was being dissected. Those dark eyes were so much like her son’s, and between the slight head tilt and the narrow look, she reminds him startlingly of the way that Richie stares right through him sometimes, like they were trying to read his mind. Whatever she was looking for she must have found, because suddenly Maggie smiled softly and nodded. 

“I know that, Stanley,” she said, moving to pass him. She pats him on the shoulder, a gesture he’s seen her do to Richie a thousand times. Something half-recognized and motherly, comforting in a way that almost overwhelms Stan in a way that he didn’t expect. It was then that he remembered this woman had known him for fourteen years, since he was just four years old and scrambling after Richie on the playground. “Do what makes you happy, honey.” 

With that cryptic message, she was gone. He could hear her footsteps down the hallway, headed towards the study that she shares with her husband. 

Stan shook his head to clear it. With a glance at the stove’s clock, he realized that he’d been gone for nearly seven minutes, much longer than it should take to make popcorn. If he didn’t hurry, Richie and Eddie would come looking for him. He didn’t want that.

He hurried to make a second bag and dump both of them into a large bowl that is reserved just for movie night snacks, carefully picking it up and beginning to ascend the stairs. For a terrifying moment, he nearly tripped over one of Richie’s discard sneakers. The pile of popcorn wiggled in place precariously, but he managed to make it to Richie’s door without spilling a single kernel.

The door was open now. The television was paused on the opening to Ghostbusters. Eddie sat in the middle of the bed, staring hard at the picture above the TV with his eyebrows furrowed. There was no sign of Richie.

Stan carefully picked his way across the room, far slower and more carefully than when he had left. “Where’s Rich?” he asked, the nickname slipping out of his mouth before he could stop it. Eddie looked up, looking surprised to see Stan, but didn’t comment.

“Bathroom,” he said simply. “What took you so long?”

“Maggie stopped me,” Stan explained, his cheeks turning inexplicably red. If Richie were here, maybe he’d make a joke about it, but Eddie did nothing but frown a little. 

His eyes drifted back over to the picture on the wall. “Do you remember?” Eddie asked, nodding towards it. “That day, I mean? It was, like, Mike’s birthday, right?”

Stan nodded, carefully placing the bowl of popcorn in the small sliver of space left on the bedside table. He frowned at it’s precarious perch, and set about rearranging the junk on the table, happy for something to occupy his hands. “His fifteenth, I think,” he agreed. “Because we all would have been fourteen at the time.”

Eddie glanced back at him. “How do you know?”

Stan sent a cursory glance back up to the picture. “You stopped wearing that shirt in sophomore year,” he said. “And Richie’s braces are that horrible neon green.” He paused, wincing. What kind of friend would remember that stuff? Eddie probably thought he was some sort of freak, now. 

To his surprise, Eddie didn’t comment, simply turning back to that picture and staring for a long time. It was weirdly silent in the room, quiet in a way that Richie Tozier’s bedroom should never be. Stan almost thought that they were done with that line of questioning, when Eddie spoke again.

“I’m gonna ask you a weird question, and I don’t want you to freak out,” he said. 

Stan stiffened, every muscle in his body tensing up. “You can’t just start a sentence like that and expect me to not freak out, Eddie,” he said, forcing his tone to stay light. Casual. Don’t let Eddie know that he felt like he was about to have an asthma attack, and he didn’t even have asthma.

“Did you have a crush on Richie?” he asked. Stan’s heart felt like it stuttered to a halt in his chest. 

He laughed uncomfortably, taking a step back from the now-neatened sidetable. “Where did you get that idea?” he asked, still staring at the table. He won’t look at Eddie. He refused. His cheeks were hot and probably bright pink. The walls felt like they were pressing in on him. He couldn’t breathe.

“Hey, Stan, wait,” Eddie said, and then his voice got closer. Fingers encircled Stan’s wrist, gently pulling him back against a small chest that was so much shorter than him. “Breathe. It’s okay, I was just asking.”

“I don’t like Richie.” Stan knew he was the one saying it, knew that was his voice, but he had no control over them as they left his mouth. “I don’t like you either. Not like that. It would be weird, wouldn’t it? You’re my best friends and you’re together and-”

“Jay-sus Christ, Spaghetti, what did ya say to th’ poor bastard?” Richie’s shitty Irish Cop voice cut through the room. Stan refused to look up at him, curling his hands into tight fists at his sides. There were footsteps, and then Richie whispered furiously to Eddie. One of his hands, calloused in weird places from so many long hours spent playing SNES games instead of doing homework, gently came to rest on Stan’s elbow. 

Stan hated the way that he couldn’t help leaning into the touch. 

“You okay, Stan the Man?” Richie asked cautiously, voice far too gentle to someone who’d gotten the nickname ‘Trashmouth’ at eleven years old. “Eddie just wanted to know.”

 So Richie knew, had maybe even put Eddie up to it. That maybe made it worse. It was like they making fun of him. Maybe they were making fun of him - he wouldn’t put it past Richie, but he thought Eddie was nicer than that. 

“Why?” Stan managed to gasp out, biting hard enough on his lower lip that it brought tears to his eyes directly after. 

Eddie’s soft fingers, the ones that weren’t still circling his wrist, carefully pried Stan’s lip from his teeth. They came to rest on his chin, gently cradling his face. “Breathe,” he whispered again, and Stan squeezed his eyes tight as he tried to follow the instruction.

He could feel Richie and Eddie staring at each other around him, could almost feel the words they were exchanging silently, even if he didn’t know what they were. A sob escaped his throat that he didn’t even realize had been building. “Fuck, Stan, calm down,” Richie said a little desperately. “I can’t explain if you don’t came down.”

With great effort, Stan managed to force his breathing back to something almost considered normal. Eddie carefully pulled him towards the bed, and Stan’s knees bent to sit down without his acknowledgement. He felt the bed dip on either side of him as they sat down, but still refused to look up from a spot on the floor that he had deemed safe. 

“Okay now?” Eddie asked carefully, one hand coming to rest on Stan’s back. He didn’t know why they kept touching him, but he wasn’t going to be the one who made the stop. He managed a shaky nod. “Good.”

“Why?” he asked again, licking at his dry lips. Stan didn’t trust himself to say anything else, for fear that he would start sobbing again. He was humiliated enough as it was.

“God, isn’t it fucking obvious?” Richie said, his voice louder than Stan expected. “We’re fucking in love with you, you idiot.”

Stan flinched. “That’s not funny,” he snapped, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears that were suddenly pricking at the back of them. “Beep fucking beep, Tozier.”

Richie let out a huff and his voice lowered again. “It’s not a joke, Stan. I wouldn’t joke about that,” he said. His voice was a little pained, like he was genuinely hurt that Stan would think such a thing.

Eddie’s however hummed a little. “Well, actually, you definitely have before. Not… not like that, but I think I’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve proposed to Bev or Bill. Or Mike. Or… any of us, really.” He paused, seeming to consider the next thing he had to say. When he next spoke, he was back to sounding gentle, carefully reaching out to thread his fingers with Stan’s. “It’s not a joke, though, Stan. We… We really like you. I think I’ve probably had a crush on you since we were kids.”

Richie cleared his throat. “Mike’s fifteenth,” he said. “I realized then. I made a stupid joke and you just kind of looked at me like I’d grown another head, and I was like ‘oh fuck, I’m in love with this stoic motherfucker.’”

Stan felt a little like his head was spinning. Like he’d just gotten off the Tilt-A-Whirl at the summer festival - which he always rode with Richie because Eddie didn’t trust the festival rides and all the others got nauseous, but Richie was too chicken to ride alone. “But… you guys…” he said, forcing back the bile that was rising in his throat. This was too much. He felt sick.

“Love each other, yeah,” Richie said. Eddie squeaked a little, and Stan could almost hear the fond way that Richie would roll his eyes in response. “Oh, like you didn’t spend half of last night-”

“Beep beep, Chee,” Eddie snapped. Stan knew that if he looked up, Eddie’s cheeks would be almost as red as his own. 

“I thought I was just a creep,” Stan admitted quietly. “I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

“What does that mean?” That was Richie, his hand gently squeezing one of Stan’s.

“I have to spell it out?” Stan asked, his cheeks impossibly red. He was met with only silence as his answer, and huffed out a frustrated sigh. He wanted to wipe at his teary eyes but with one hand caught in Richie’s and one entangled with Eddie’s it was impossible. “I’ve had crushes on both of you for years.” 

Stan’s admission was met with silence, and he almost thought that maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe this was all an elaborate joke, and Richie and Eddie hadn’t expected him to go along with it. He opened his mouth to stammer out an apology, to say something that could recall the words and their meanings, but then Richie was gasping and threw himself at Stan, knocking both of them sideways into Eddie.

Richie wiggled against him, working himself halfway into Stan’s lap as he lay across him.Eddie was laughing underneath them, shoving at Stan’s shoulders in an attempt to force them upright. “Chee, give him some room,” he was saying, giggling in the way that Stan knew made his nose crinkle up. Richie sat up immediately, dark eyes scanning Stan’s face, but there was a huge, ridiculous grin crossing his face. 

“Do you want to be our boyfriend, Stanley the Manley?” Richie asked, letting go of Stan to fold his hands together pleadingly. There was a red flush creeping up his neck, the only sign that he was embarrassed or concerned about the response. 

Stan glanced at Eddie, who shrugged sheepishly. “Only if you want to, Stan,” Eddie agreed, but there was hope in his eyes as well.

Stan bit his lip and forced the anxiety coiling in his stomach away. Maggie Tozier’s words echoed in his ears. Do what makes you happy, honey. “Yes, please,” he said after a long moment of silence. 

Eddie’s smile could have given Richie’s a run for it’s money. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, and Stan had barely managed a nod before the other boy was surging forward, pressing his lips against Stan’s. It felt right - like warmth and like home. Like they were made for each other.

And then Richie was pushing Eddie out of the way, staring deep into Stan’s eyes - dissecting, just like Maggie had - before he too leaned forward. If kissing Eddie felt like home, kissing Richie felt like safety. 

When he finally pulled away, Stan’s cheeks had faded from brilliantly red to a far more subtle pink, and he couldn’t stop the smile that slowly slid across his face. There was a moment of silence where the three of them just stared at each other, smiling like losers in the dim light of Richie’s room. The buzz of the television caught Stan’s attention, and he poked both of them in the knees until they stopped looking so much like a pair of lovesick puppies. (To say nothing of the fact that Stan, too, had the same lovesick, starstruck look on his face.)

“Ghostbusters?” he reminded them gently. “I love you guys, but the Stay Puft guy is my dream man.”

“Stan the Man gets off a good one!” Richie crowed, cackling far louder than the mediocre joke deserved. Eddie and Stan locked eyes and shared a fond smile, shaking their heads in amusement at their boyfriend’s - boyfriend, the word felt like a dream to think in conjunction with them - antics.

The trio curled around each other on the bed, Stan tucked safely in the middle of Richie and Eddie with the popcorn in his lap. Richie took a piece of popcorn and kissed him on the side of the head. Eddie pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder. 

As the Ghostbusters battled ghosts, Stan curled against his boys, content and warm and happy.

[exasperatedmoron]

5+1 times Barry says he has a boyfriend and the 1 time they realized he wasn’t kidding

*1*

Cisco walked into the lounge with his arms full of chocolate, movies and those sappy scented candles. It was Valentine’s Day and him, Barry and Caitlin had a tradition of spending it together since they all had very, very miserable love lives.

“Who’s ready to cry over a dying dog!”

Caitlin was already sitting on one of the beanbags Barry placed in front of the mini-movie screen. She raised her glass of wine towards Cisco, already dressed in her sweats without makeup on. Barry, however, was dressed up in a maroon button down and hair gelled up. He was setting the stereotypical ‘ILY’ teddy bears on Cisco and Cait’s beanbags.

“Why do you look like you’re going on a date, Sonic?”

“Erm. Cause I am?”

“With who?” Cisco tried to think back to anyone Barry has interacted with recently, assuming it was someone new. The only new friends he’s made so far were Ralph and Julian. “Oh no. It’s not Ralph, is it? You always seemed to be in each other personal spaces”

Barry looked affronted, even holding up his hand to his chest. “Cisco, no! I- What- Cisco!” Barry’s face contorted as he tried to come up with words. “It’s not him! It’s... someone you guys know. But that’s all I’m saying!”

Barry stood his ground and seemed very insistent on keeping quiet, but Cait and Cisco were invested now. Barry’s last crush was on Iris and that ended years ago before she and Eddie got married. In those years, Barry has only gone on two dates - with Patty and Linda - and both didn’t work out so well. But even in those cases, Cisco and Caitlin were updated (like best friends were supposed to be).

Huh. “Why didn’t you tell us about this date?” “It was very last minute. I didn’t even know he was in town today. Turns out he was so... yea.”

“So, he travels out of town?” “Yeah, he does.”

“Huh. What’s his job?” “Oh, you know. A little bit of this and that. He deals with... uhm... artefacts? and... problem... solving?”

Wow. Pinocchio would be disappointed.

“Okay. Have fun on your date.

Barry nearly stumbled on his own two feet getting out of there, yelling a ‘Bye Cait! Cisco!”. Cisco picked up a beer from the chiller and sat beside Cait as she pressed ‘play’ on the remove.

“He doesn’t really have a date, doesn’t he?”

“Nope.”

*2*

Iris barged into Barry’s apartment, hands full of take-out and ice cream. Normally, she’d pick the lock to get in, but for some reason, Barry upgraded his lock. It was the same as before, so she could still use her key but it couldn’t be picked so easily anymore. Barry must have listened to her, for once.

“Barry! Eddie and I are fighting so I need to have a Disney marathon! Get your lazy ass out of bed!”

Iris heard him squeak, followed by a ‘thud’ as he fell out of his bed. She smiled to herself and placed the take out on the table, knowing that the speedster would be less grumpy once he saw the food. She made her way to the kitchen to put the ice cream in the freezer for later when he saw that his freezer wasn’t empty. Her eyebrows scrunched up as she opened the fridge and saw that it filled too.

Barry never had a filled fridge. Not even a half-filled fridge. Even before he was a speedster, he survived of ramen and pizza. The most his fridge would contain was leftovers from his junk or from whatever meal Iris brought over. It was even worse when he became a speedster, almost causing his fridge to be obsolete.

“Iris? Why are you staring at my fridge?”

Iris snapped out of her thoughts and turned around to stare at her foster brother with bed hair. “Since when did you have food?”

Barry looked confused for a second, eyes going from her to the fridge. As soon as his eyes saw the contents of it, a small smile grew on his face. “Oh. My boyfriend must have left some last night.”

Iris’s thoughts on food and Eddie were completely pushed back. “Boyfriend? Bartholomew Henry Allen, are you having secret rendezvous with a man and not telling me?” “Geez Iris, you’re almost as dramatic as he is. And no, I told you about him, remember?” 

Now it was Iris’ turn to be confused. “When?” “On Valentine’s Day? I asked you to fill my place with Cait and Cisco since Eddie had work and I had a date?”

Ohhhh. “Barry. You don’t need to use your imaginary boyfriend as an excuse to have your fridge stocked. You could just say it as it is. You finally decided to act like an adult instead of a bachelor.”

“What? What do you mean bachelor? Wait - What do you mean imaginary?”

“Cisco and Caitlin told me you made up a fake boyfriend so that it’d hurt less when you stood them up. It’s fine though, they took pity on you so they aren’t mad.”

“Fake?! I-Wha-They-”

“Barry relax. Come on, heat up your ‘boyfriend’s’ leftovers. I wanna taste it while telling you about how much of an overprotective husband Eddie is being again.”

Hours later, the two were stretched over the couch with cartons of ice cream balancing on their torsos while watching Singin’ in the Rain.

“I really do have a boyfriend, you know?”

“Sure you do.”

*3*

Barry was late for work (again) and Joe had to cover for him (again). He needed the results for a case so he sat on Barry’s chair and waited for the CSI to arrive. Soon enough, said CSI ran into the lab, clutching onto his messenger bag and a mini-cooler.

Julian took one look at him and snorted, “You sure that’s enough food, Allen? I can call a caterer if you’d like.” “Shut it, Jullian.”

“Joe! Hey I -” “You woke up sick, so I sent you to a doctor to get you checked up. I’m assuming you’re feeling better and ‘bout to give me the results for the Williams case I needed two hours ago?”

Barry nodded and tossed his bag to his chair as he frantically sifted through his desk, ignoring Julian’s comment about tidiness. He plucked out a file from the bottom of the clutter and passed it to Joe. “Thanks Barr. Now, why were you really late? Mugging? Little ol’ lady bein’ robbed?”

Barry started to scratch the back of his neck, face turning a light shade of pink as he avoided eye contact with Joe. “Ah. Actually, I overslept. I stayed over at my boyfriend’s place last night so... yeah.”

Joe’s eyes went wide, almost popping out of his head, “Boyfriend?”.

“Dear Lord, not this again,” Jullian mumbled from behind Joe as he continued writing his report. Joe turned around to look at Julian with an incredulous look. “You knew Barry had a boyfriend?”

“I knew Barry had an imaginary boyfriend. Cait told me about the Valentine’s Day Ditch.”

“Imaginary - What?! And seriously? You guys are putting a name to it?!” Barry nearly dropped the things he was holding on the floor.

“Ah. Iris told me about him too.”

“Joe, I really - “

“Barry, if you overslept, that’s fine. You didn’t need to lie. We know you’re workin’ hard on Flash duties anyway.”

“No, Joe. Really I-”

Barry was interrupted by Captain Singh’s appearance at the door, spurring the three back to work. Before Joe left though, he patted Barry on the back.

“You gotta work on your lying skills. Caitlin, Cisco and Iris saw right through you.”

Barry sighed.

*4*

Felicity and Barry were watching a movie marathon in the Arrow cave while Oliver was busy doing mayor stuff. The team needed Barry’s help with a meta who moved to Star City, so Barry ran over and even after the threat was cleared, he stayed for a while to catch up with his best friend.

Barry was finally starting to relax until Felicity just had to bring up a certain topic. “So what’s this I hear about you making up a fake boyfriend to get out of situations?”

Barry groaned into the popcorn.

“He’s not fake,” Barry asserted. “They just think he is because I won’t give out any details.”

“And why not?”

“Because he... well... it’ll be a disaster.”

“Okay,” Felicity sighed, setting down her popcorn, “I’ll play along. Why would it be a disaster?”

“They... Well, he doesn’t have the best reputation?” “Uh huh. And what kind of ‘reputation’ does he have?” Felicity leaned forward, eyes staring into Barry, trying to get him to slip.

“Well. You know, it depends. A bad but good one. But to some people, it’s a good one with a little bit of bad. He’s in the middle of good and bad? Or kinda like a see-saw, what side he’s on depends on the day.”

“Barry, this is why people don’t believe you.” "Not again.”

“You either need to work on your lying skills, or give out details that aren’t so vague.”

Barry groaned. He was so done. He picked up his popcorn and tossed one piece to Felicity’s head.

“Just eat your popcorn.”

*5*

Captain Singh was reading a report when Barry knocked on his door. “Come in, Allen.”

Barry walked into the office and placed a file on David’s desk. Just as he was about to leave, he stopped and turned to David. “Captain?” he asked.

“Yes, Allen?” “Can I request for a day off on the 18th?” David checked the calendar on the desk and saw that most of the other CSIs will be in.

“Okay, submit a proper request and I’ll approve it. If I may ask, why do you need to take it? Albert seems to be less of a pain as he was before.”

Barry chuckled as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “Actually it’s my boyfriend and I’s one and a half year anniversary. Our one year didn’t end well, so I wanted to make it up to him.”

David sighed and removed his glasses, turning to face Barry properly. “Barry, I’ve known you for over 10 years now. I think by now, you would know that excuses like that wouldn’t work on me.’’

Barry looked confused and a little bit upset at his words. “Sir? I...’’

“If it didn’t work on Joe, Iris, or your other friends, it won’t work for me too. I know you’re the Flash, Barry. You didn’t need to come up with an elaborate fib like that.” Barry looked like he was about to protest or deny any allegations, but his shoulders just slumped. Barry looked like he wanted to roll his eyes at the world. He nodded and turned again to walk out when David mentioned something.

“Also, if you ever used that excuse again, one year anniversary sounds more believable than one and a half.”

“Of course. Sure thing, Captain.”

+1

Since Joe found out Captain Singh knew about Barry being the Flash, he decided to let his old friend around the labs, re-introducing him to Cisco and other members of the team. David was slightly surprised at how many people he knew were in the team (”Albert and Dibny? You guys are involved in this?”). He was surprised at their involvement, but at the same time, he wasn’t. Barry had the type of personality that just drew people in.

Just as he was talking to Caitlin in the med bay, a series of beeps emitted from the computers in the cortex. “What’s that? Is that some kind of Flash alert?” he asked as him and Caitlin walked into the cortex where the rest were in, excluding Barry, who was patrolling the city.

“Nah, that just means the waverider landed on the roof. The Legends will probably stop by here to say hi before visiting their families.” Cisco answered as he had another lollipop in his mouth. Caitlin scowled at him and he removed the sweet from his mouth, not wanting her to go into another tirade about dental health.

Minutes later, a group of nine walked into the cortex, exchanging pleasantries with team Flash.

“Didn’t know the Captain of the CCPD is now on team Flash.”

David turned away from his conversation with Ray Palmer and saw Leonard Snart leaning against a wall, smirking. Beside him was his partner Mick Rory, who was being fussed over by Caitlin (”You keep letting your burns heal like that and I’ll cover it in ice until it reaches your bones.”) “Leonard Snart. Didn't know you played on the hero’s side now.”

“Well, I tend to swing both ways.” He turned and sauntered off to Cisco, but not before giving David one last smug look, causing him to think that there was a double meaning behind what Snart said.

“Hey, where’s Barry?” Sara asked Joe, who was catching up with Stein. “He’s on patrol. I can call him back.” Joe went over to the computers and patched in through Barry’s comms.

“Hey Barr, the Legends are here. Come over and say hi.” “The Legends?” Barry sounded excited, but team Flash thought it was because he got to catch up with his friends. The Legends, on the other hand, gave Len a quick look before returning to their conversations.

Five seconds later, a figure appeared in the middle of the cortex, followed by a lightning trail. “Barry!” Sara exclaimed as she threw her arms around the speedster, still in his Flash regalia. “Hey Sara, how was the 1800s?” “Sexist. But I kicked some bigots into a river, so I’d say it went well.” Barry and Sara exchanged a few words before someone in the corner coughed.

“Lenny!” Barry exclaimed and sped over to the reformed criminal. He kissed the thief in front of both their teams, unaware of the heart attack he gave to the members of his own team.

“Bartholomew Henry Allen!” Iris shrieked, causing everyone in the room to wince at the octave she reached, “Since when were you dating Captain Cold?!”. Barry opened his mouth to respond when Nate beat him to it.

“What the hell, man? You didn’t tell your team about it? It’s been years!” Barry sighed and put his head on his hands. Len’s arms were still around his waist, his back leaning on Len’s front. “No. I did. Multiple times. No one believed I had a boyfriend.”

The Legends half of the group burst into hysterical laughter while team Flash was still frozen in disbelief. “Wait a second. Your ‘fake’ boyfriend is Leonard Snart?!” Joe pointed from Barry to Len, taking a moment to process it. He wasn’t as mad as he thought he’d be, but definitely surprised.

“To be fair, they aren’t dating anymore.”

That caused the team to snap out of their stupor. “What do you mean they aren’t dating anymore?” Cisco questioned, trying to comprehend how this all happened. “Did you guys break up?” Caitlin asked from her position beside Mick, who was laughing so hard that he held onto her shoulder for support.

Barry blinked at all his friends and family, asking himself how massive of a situation this led to. He shook his head and removed his gloves, taking Len’s hand and doing the same.

“Guys. I've been wearing a ring for the last 2 months. I haven't been hiding."

"We thought it was part of your... psuedo boyfriend scheme..."

Captain Singh was the first to get over the shock of everything and put all the information together. "So. For the last 2 years, you actually do have a boyfriend. Who's Leonard Snart. And not only did you tell us you were dating someone, you also flaunted your ring around, showing us you're engaged, and we didn't even believe it."

"Most people think the superspeed is what's unbelievable about me..."

[impossible-rat-babies]

fallout oc companion meme!

i got tagged by @arlathen tysm darling! im gonna tag: @trvelyans, @the-cowboy-druid, @juniper-tree, @deadwapiti​ and anyone else bc i can’t be arsed to remember who has a courier rip

name: jericho lee thompson

location: camp golf—he can be found in his own tent not far from the main set of tents by his own fire. talking to him will reveal that he’s being “held” on suspicion of stealing supplies/munitions, but there’s no evidence to prove him innocent or guilty. through a few speech checks, he will imply that things have gone missing and he has no idea how he ended up with them.

hire: “ya ready t’make some trouble?”

use melee: “havent heard the saying of don't slap a man chewin' tobacco?”

use ranged: “glad ya know I do my best work lookin' down a scope.”

open inventory: “won’t apologize if the shit ya give me goes a missin.” (certain fresh food items and cigarette packs will go missing over time if placed in his inventory)

stay close: “if ya want me any closer I’ll be on ya toes.”

keep distance: “oh better so I can run ‘way, eh?”

stealth: “now you’re talkin.”

be passive: “right. I’ll just stand there if ya get ya’self in trouble.”

be aggressive: “alrighty shoot first ask questions later, courier.”

use stimpack: “oh thank god.” / “you could’ve done that sooner.”

wait here: “I’ll just be here smoking ‘til ya get back.”

follow me: “right behind ya chickadee.”

combat starts: “alright square up ya fucks.” / "fuckin hell, six."

death: “shit, wait.”

send to lucky 38: “I hope you don’t mind me taking in the views.” he's found in the cocktail lounge, laying on one of the couches. if asked how he got up here, he'll sarcastically reply with elevator.

send home: “I hope they didn’t take apart my tent.” / "if you find my shit gone then please take it before the rangers do."

aggression: not aggressive / aggressive / very aggressive / frenzied

confidence: cowardly / cautious / average / brave / foolhardy

assistance: helps no one / helps allies / helps allies and friends

karma: evil

companion quest: Jericho by the Jordan—after gaining his trust, jericho will open up about being a widower where he’s from and will request that the courier help him look into Ranger information on his husband at camp golf and/or hoover dam. 

additionally: with the lonesome road dlc active, when the courier comes back from the divide there will be a holotape found in their inventory: “this tape was found while scavenging through an old destroyed farmhouse not far from the major destruction of the divide. It’s simply labeled “to jericho”. It can be listened to, but jericho will become angry with the courier if they did and will refuse to travel with them for several days. He will rejoin the courier, but only after an apology is made. If the courier did not listen to the tape, jericho will play and will quietly thank the courier for giving it back to him.

companion perk: Sight for Sore Eyes: when jericho accompanies the courier, their critical chance is increased by 25% and the damage on weapons with sights increases by 15%. Stealthing will increase all damage done by 5%. He will also have rare and unique barks when sniper shots are successful, especially at great distances.

hidden perk: Tastes Like Home: if given a variety of ingredients in his personal inventory, he will create specialized baked goods for the player, most offering powerful temporary s.p.e.c.i.a.l. buffs

holotape transcript below the cut:

*sounds of cursing and a distant dog barking*

hah! bastard said i couldn't get this damn recorder workin again ,but his sorry loss now. only got one tape though, so im gonna make it count. hey there chickadee. im hoping to give this to you when you get back from dropping off that package, before you head off on your next job. i know not bein' home with me and ya mama is tough, but good thing is ya know we'll always be 'ere when ya get back. i know i say it far too much for ya ears, but im real grateful for all the work you do. ya didn't have t'go takin' that job n bein' gone all the time, but ya did. god knows ncr ain't payin me 'nough for me losin' my damn leg, but im real grateful chickadee. real, real grateful for ya everyday. grateful ya love this old gross mug and i love ya so much. and im excited t'hear bout all the fun ya got up to while you was gone. hopefully me makin this doesn't get ya all flustered, but im doin' it anyway...i love ya jericho. promised no matter what."