#aw shell naw

[thesanitisedinkling]

A rare moment where Izzy gets legit frightened on camera.

[luvrlou]

"Y/N and Cal being our favourites"

Pairing: Calfreezy x fem!reader

Summary: If a fan made a compilation of Cal and Y/N's best moments.

Warnings: swearing, sexual references, alcohol use

A/N: I made the reader Scottish for no real reason

Word Count: 1.6k

"Christmas baking attempts"

"Cal! Are you stupid?" You shrieked as he put an egg, shell and everything, into the cake batter you had spent half of your video making.

"What! It said add one egg!" He was quick to defend himself. You and Cal had decided to make a baking vlog for your youtube channel. Safe to say it's not really going to plan.

You sighed and clutched your head, "without the shell babe, without the shell."

"I'll just take it out then," he grumbled, reaching into the batter to retrieve the egg, coating his hand in the gooey subtance.

You groaned yet again, he looked over to you, his face holding a cheeky grin. "Cal," you warned as he approached you. "Cal! Stop!"

He chased you around the kitchen island his dirty hand stretching towards you, "come here, darling!" He cooed jokingly.

"Piss off Freezy!" You screamed, him closing the large gap between you alarmingly fast.

Before you knew it, he had grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him. He planted his batter-covered hand onto the side of your face.

"I fucking hate you," you mumbled as he cackled. "Naw don't laugh, it's no funny Cal!" Instead of laughed again, he leaned into you and enveloped your lips in a sweet and innocent kiss.

"Don't want to scare off your viewers now do we, doll?" He taunted, his lips ghosting over yours, you slapped his face lightly, turning away in a faux huff.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

2. "IT GOT SO MUCH WORSE..."

"Alright Harry," you smiled at the younger man as you and Cal walked over to the table he was sitting at. A view of the beautiful Mykonos beach stretched past you all.

Before he could reply Callum's voice echoed, his camera pointing towards the three of you, "just hooked up with them again, apparently there was some interesting stories that happened last night." He sat across from you and Cal, who you were practically on top of. "Aw what an adorable pair of lovebirds!"

"Shut it, Lux," Cal groaned back. You sending him the middle finger

Callum only laughed in return and placed his camera in front of him and Harry. "I come to my senses at six, thirty am. So I'm outside, didn't even know how I got there." Harry continued to tell the story of how he had drunkenly let himself into a random man's villa.

"Even worse, he was in nothing but his boxers," Cal chuckled, making Harry groan embarrassedly.

"So, I'm like alright, Freezy will save me! So I run upstairs, bang on his door for a bit." He explained.

"Aye, then I answer the door and that shred of innocence I had left fucked off. The only man I should see in such a lack of clothes is Cal!" You butted in, making Cal red in the face And Callum burst out laughing.

"Yeah, so I end up sleeping in their bathtub with a towel over me, Y/N was nice enough to lend me a pillow." Harry finished his story.

"Sure I'm such a gem," you laughed, leaning on top of Cal, who only kissed your forehead in return.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

3. "How I bitched Calfreezy"

You and Cal were making a storytime of how your relationship came about, at about 6 minutes in footage of Cal's vlog from the unexpected night started playing.

"Is that the real KSI!" Cal exclaimed in faux shock, his plastic cup half full of beer swishing about in his hand.

"Ah, Yes! It is I! The KSI!" His friend states in return, waving his arms about in a drunken manner, accidentally hitting a girl behind him.

It was you, you were that girl.

You whipped your head around in an irritated sense, "Watch it! I'm trying to drink over her!"

Cal laughed in response, "sorry love!"

"Don't sorry love me," you quipped. Before turning back to your girlfriends, "what a fud, honestly," you mumbled to them.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

4. THE ROAST OF THE SIDEMEN

"Hello, hello. If you don't already know me, shame on you. But I am Y/N L/N-" You began, standing at the podium before getting interrupted by your boyfriend in the crowd.

"Freezy! Y/N Freezy!"

You smiled while rolling your eyes, "we'll talk once you put a ring on it."

Everyone in the crowd laughed giddily at your roasts, picking off each member one by one.

"Honestly Harry, I don't know what's a bigger misfortune for you, your love life or your intense drug issues. I mean they probably go hand in hand, no one wants to get in and about a druggie." You stated, earning cackles from Ethan and JJ.

"That's my girl everyone!" Your boyfriend shouted out yet again from the crowd.

"Like a said previously, put a ring on it babe!"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

5. THE ROAST OF THE SIDEMEN

It was Cal's shot at the sidemen, lets just say that boy had both no filter and no mercy. The best and decided cutest roast by fans was when he reached Simon.

"My girl also wants a ring, the kind you put on her finger. I think Talia is wanting a different ring for you." He grinned, shooting you a smile.

"Aye Freezy, when's my ring coming?" You shouted to him.

He chuckled in response, "hope you realise that you also have to spend your life with me, not just get a ring."

"Better be getting 2 rings then!"

He scoffed, "that is the whole point of engagement and marriage, darling."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

6. is he proposing or did he just...

You had seen those tiktoks floating about your for-you-page for at least a month now, them always ending happily. As if on cue Cal decided to book a last-minute getaway to Rome.

Is he proposing or did he just give me his bank card and tell me to get my nails redone? You were walking into your kitchen when Cal stopped you, "babe!" He called.

"Yeah, what's up?" You answered, puzzled.

He handed you his bank card, "go get your nails done for Rome!"

You looked at him sort of suspiciously, but you weren't one to pass up on an opportunity to get your nails done.

Is he proposing or did he just tell me to pack my favourite dress for Rome? You were sat going through all the clothes in your closet, putting together outfits for your holiday when Cal walked in.

"Bring your favourite dress with you." He stated.

You tilted your head to the side, "why?"

"I booked that really fancy restaurant you haven't shut up about for the past 6 months." His answer made you jump up and hug him, chanting 'thankyou's. "Anything for my girl.

Is he proposing or did he just want to take me on an impulsive trip? Cal was walking with both of your cases in front of you as you sorted out your passports. Every time you flew he would deal with luggage and you would deal with the documents. You both knew that Cal was way to risky to have both passports and boarding passes.

"Can we go get drinks after security?" You asked as you joined to line to luggage check-in.

"Obviously."

Is he proposing or did he just buy me a brand-new bracelet as soon as we got to Rome? Cal dragged you into an authentic jewellers, eyes darting straight to the bracelets.

"What wrist do you usually wear your bracelets?" He asked, odd question.

"My right."

He hummed in response, "maybe you should switch things up and put it on your left."

Is he proposing or did he just take me to the most high-end restaurant in Rome? You giggled like a child who was going into a sweet shop as you approached the restaurant.

"Are you excited darling?" He asked, slightly tensely.

"Of course!" You practically squealed in response, "why? Are you not?"

He smiled softly at your confused demeanour, "Why wouldn't I be?"

He proposed.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

7. SIDEMEN TINDER IN REAL LIFE (UK YOUTUBE EDITION)

Cal's face dropped when the next girl walked into the studio, you.

He first looked to the camera, then you, then the boys behind him. "Who's idea was it to put my fucking girlfriend in this?" He yelled before the camera cut off.

Cal walked forward towards you, a coin in his hand. "If I flip a coin, what are the chances I get head?"

This made you burst out laughing, "naw, lets switch this up, shall we? What are the odds I get head?"

8. We revered the tinder in real life ft. the sidemen

"Now if Cal swipes right to any girl who gives him a shite line I will not hesitate to two-foot him." You stated to the line of your friends.

You smiled as he strutted in as if he was on a catwalk, adding a little spin when he reached the board.

"Hello I'm CalFreezy, I'm 25 years old and I'm from London." He introduced himself.

You walked up to him first, "Hello, I'm Y/N L/N, I'm 24 years old and I'm from Glasgow." He chuckled silently, acting as if he wasn't aware of every little thing about you.

"Hello Y/N," he grinned.

"You're hot I would leave my fiancé for you." You stated, all your friends, including Cal, started to laugh uncontrollably.

"Just get out of here!" He laughed, his arm indicating to the left.

You huffed and stomped away, "my own fiancé, what a dick."

[bekaroth-reads]

Lucas Baker x Reader- Jealous

[This is an answer to an ask. Tumblr is being a ding-dong, so I had to post it on it's own post.]

There were many things that the world thought were basically impossible. One of them was getting Lucas to leave the Baker’s property. His parents were always thankful when you did finally manage to do so as even though they loved you to bits and loved having you around, they were also very worried about their son’s social skills, friend making skills, manners, dressing habits…

Well, to be honest they were worried about a lot pf things concerning Lucas, but they knew that you were helping him come out of his shell a bit.

Chloe was happy when you got him to leave for once because even though she loved having you around and loved Lucas as much as any siblings could care for each other, the two of them would often fight like cats and dogs. So, it was nice to get a break from him every so often.

To be honest it wasn’t like you both were really out for the night or anything. Jack needed something from the store in town and you had gotten Lucas to go with you. Well, to be honest, you volunteered to run to the store and Marguerite hit him with a rolled up newspaper until he agreed to go along with you.

No matter how many times you tried to tell Lucas that people didn’t hate him, he still had himself convinced that there was always someone who would start something with him. Usually, he would just go quiet because he knew that if he tried to say something he’d say something stupid and start a fight.

Speaking of which, you heard him groan.

“Aw, shit! It’s Jessica!” Luaus grumbled under his breath.

“And, who’s Jessica?” You asked as you looked over to see the woman in question.

“Someone from school.” He answered side-eyed the direction she was standing.

“Lucas, you went to university online. How do you know people from the campus?” You asked, genuinely wanting to know if he had taken the initiative to go to more things on his own.

“Wha? Naw, high school.” He corrected.

You gave him a frustrated look and he gave you a dramatic shrug.

“Lucas that was, like, TEN year ago! You’ve gotta move on man.” You scoffed.

“The hell I do!” He snapped back, trying to stay in a whisper.

“What’d she do? Bully you?”

“Yeah! Every time we had an event in robotics club she would take the orange coke before I could!” He growled.

You rolled your eyes. Though you always wanted to be on Lucas’ side and wanted him to know that, there were also times where you did have to point out when he was being ridiculous.

“Okay, so did you ever think she grabbed the orange because it was also her favorite? And she just got there first while you were probably hunched in the corner like the gargoyle you are.”

“Hey!” He snort as he tried to hold back a laugh while playfully punching your arm.

This seemed to be the thing that got his old classmate to look over, and when she did her face immediately lit up.

“Oh, my gawd! Hiiiiiii!” She almost sang as she started to walk over to the two of you past the end of the row that was blocking her from your view.

When you saw her clearly you got excited as well. “There’s no way!” You exclaimed.

“Wha’th’fuck?!” Lucas hissed to himself as he looked between Jessica and yourself as you gave each other a hug and talk about something too quickly for him to understand.

He finally got back into the loop when Jessica looked over to him and smiled. “I didn’t know you knew Lucas Baker! Hi, Lucas! How’ve you been?”

Lucas grunted, shrugged, and did everything he could not to make eye contact. To make sure that she didn’t have time to process him blowing her off, you jumped back in.

“Yeah! Actually, we’re dating.” You explained as you leaned onto him. Lucas was never good at handling any form of PDA, so he had to quickly pull up his hood to hide his face before she could see how red his face was getting.

Jessica clasped her hands together and squealed like she had just seen the cutest thing in the world. “Aw! I’m glad to hear that! You two seem like you’d be so cute together! How long have you been a thing?”

You snickered a bit at her enthusiasm and replied, “Oh, since about a month or so after you and me ended things.”

When you said that you felt Lucas’ posture change from annoyed to uncomfortable before you could look at him he wrapped an arm around the bottom of your waist as subtly as he could. It wasn’t as subtly as he thought that it was, of course, but he was trying.

“Wow! So that’s been a bit then. You still workin’ on the science stuff, Lucas?” She was still trying to include him as much as she could.

“Sure.” He grumbled. You tapped his foot with yours as a warning to behave.

“Yeah, he’s helping his dad with things here and there around their place while he’s looking for a more permanent thing. You know, fixing the equipment and all that.” You answered for him.

“That sounds perfect for him! I’m sure he’ll get a great job soon. He was also so smart!” There wasn’t a lick of sarcasm in her voice, but it seemed Lucas thought otherwise.

“Gonna go finish stuff.” He grumbled before taking the cart and walking away without so much as another look at Jessica.

You groaned and offered an apologetic, “I am so sorry about that.”

“Don’t you worry about it!” She laughed off the situation quickly. “Lucas was always the quiet sort. I think that’s the most words I’ve ever heard from him.”

Her phone started to buzz in her pocket. “Oh, better take that. But, hey! It was nice to see you! Let’s get in touch again sometime!”

“Sure thing. Bye!” You waved as you went to go find where Lucas had sulked off to.

The rest of the time in the store and all the way to the car Lucas there wasn’t a single peep from Lucas, which was odd. For as quiet as he could be with other people, he usually talked your ear off. About five minutes into the trip back to the Bakers’ place, you heard him snark from where he was leaning his head on the passenger-side window, “He was always sooooo smart,” in a mock of Jessica’s voice.

“Lucas Baker,” you scold, but gently.

“What?” He asked like he was getting called out for something he didn’t do, his voice still laced with a sour tone.

You sighed and turned down a side road. This made Lucas perk up a little, and look over at you confused.

“This ain’t the way back to the house. ‘S jus a dead end.”

“Yeah, and we’re going to sit here until you tell me what your problem is.” You said as you cut the engine. “It’s something to do with Jessica, isn’t it?”

The snort that he gave in response let you know you were right on the money. “Yeah, yeah. You’re right. School was ten years ago ‘r somethin’. I can get over sharin’ some snacks.” He dismissed the subject quickly, hoping that you would leave it at that.

You put your hand on his. “That’s not what I’m taking about. I’ve told you that I moved to the area a few years back because of someone I was dating at the time.”

“Yup, and when ya broke up it was on good terms, so ya stayed roommates for awhile ‘til ya got yer own place.” He finished the story, his drawl getting thicker with every second- a sure sign that he was agitated.

“How was I supposed to know it was someone you knew? I would have told you if I knew. And, absolutely if I knew that it would bother you so much.” You kept your hand on his. While you wanted to be sure that he knew you were being sincere, you were keeping in mind that he struggled with these sorts of emotions. There was little to no chance he’d be able to look at you during this conversation; he went back to looking out the car window pretty quickly.

“It ain’t that!” His voice started to raise, but he caught himself. “It’s jus that, she was always so damn cheery, an’ knew how ta talk ta people, an’ ya looked so happy when you’er talkin’ to her.” He kept rambling, and while you were trying to keep listening, you were certain what the problem was.

“Lucas.” You cooed as you unbuckled your seat belt and leaned over to rest your hand on the side of his face to get his attention. “I love you.”

Lucas snorted again and tried to wiggle away from you. “Aw, don’t get all sappy on me!” He rolled his eyes and moved your hand away, you were quick to counter it.

“I mean it. And, I can’t think of a thing that will change that.”

All he did after you said this was turn and look at you with an unreadable look on his face. After a minute of him staring and you trying to figure out what he was thinking, he unbuckled his seatbelt, slid his seat back, and leaned it a bit just enough so that he wasn’t completely sitting straight. You had thought he was going to act like he was taking a nap to ignore you, but then he gave you an expectant look and instructed, “Well, get over here.”

Even in the cramped space of the car it wasn’t difficult to get next to him over on his seat because he was so skinny that he never really took up much room. Lucas wrapped an arm around you and rolled you over so you were leaning on him even more than you already were. There wasn’t anything said between the two of you for a while. Things were as still as Lucas could stand to be; even then all he would do was fidget for a few moments until he was comfortable again.

“This is nice.” You sighed. Lucas hummed in agreement.

“We should do this more often.” And, once again Lucas agreed.

There was another little spell of quiet and his hold on you tightened.

“Sorry ‘bout bein’ a bastard. I know you’d never leave me.” You were surprised that he was the one to verbally say what the problem was. But, more importantly, you were glad the feeling seemed to have passed.

Lucas snorted out a short laugh, “To be honest, I was expectin’ you to be a smart ass about this whole thing."

You smiled. It was sweet... Too sweet. Lucas went on high alert. His suspicion was confirmed when you moved to grab something from one of the smaller bags from the store that you had sat in the backseat.

"Christ! Yer fuckin' knees!" He gave a melodramatic whine when they pressed into his legs as you tried to reach the bag you were looking for.

"This is for you." You teased in a sing-song as you handed him an orange soda that you had sneaked into the order when he wasn't looking.

Lucas' jaw slacker slightly at the joke. He shook it off and got a dangerously playful grin as he took the drink, put it in the cupholder, and in a blink of an eye had you pinned under him on the seat.

"Damn straight, it is!" He bragged triumphantly. "An', so is this pretty, lil' thing right 'ere." He chuckle and kissed you.

[punkeccentricenigma]

Hello Hello Hello!

I love ur work!!!! I was wondering, can you do rise Mikey x touch starved! Reader? But the moment they get affection they go “OH HELL NAW” “DON’T BELITTLE ME”

Mikey with Touch Starved!Reader

Relationship status: Romantic

Reader prounouns: They/Them

Words: 957

TW: Some grammatical errors because english is not my first language.

Author's note: I apologize for the short one-shot; I didn't feel like to write something more or elaborating, especially since there's honestly no room for it (it would have turned into a mess). I'm doing my best to write all the requests as well as possible. Is there anything else to add? It's hard to say; I don't want to dwell on my problems. Enjoy.

"Here, hold your popcorn," Dark eyes of the Box Turtle first rested on the smiling person above him, then on the light, salty food arranged in a transparent bowl. His smile widened as he took the container from [Y.N]'s hands. "Thanks, sunshine!"

"No problem," they replied with a soft, elastic smile, and settled comfortably next to Michelangelo on the dark couch in the [Y.N]'s living room. It was dark, but some lamps cast a yellow ambient light on the walls; it was the coziest atmosphere the couple loved. "So, what do you want to watch? Some anime? An American movie? Maybe some FNAF gameplay?" Their subtle gestures amused the teenager.

"That last one works for me." Without waiting, the boy started munching on popcorn. As [Y.N] browsed through YouTube, he observed them. It wasn't difficult, as the person theirself was more focused on the TV screen than on him.

Mikey furrowed his brows slightly as he began to contemplate. Would it be a good idea to cuddle? I mean, he's the most touchy-feely of the siblings, always hugging someone, holding hands, or just putting a hand on the shoulder—without that, he won't survive! But with [Y.N], it was a bit different...

The [color]eyed willingly embraced with a smile, but the turtle felt that they would desire this closeness for longer. However, their body stiffened every time the boy took the initiative. Would it be too much if he tried it now, even though they had just started their relationship? They were alone now, without the company of his brothers or their common friends.

Finally, he blinked a couple of times when he noticed some random gameplay on the screen. "Everything okay?" He looked to his left and noticed a slightly worried expression on his partner's face.

He quickly nodded, smiling again. "Yeah, yeah, everything's fine, easy as pie! Um... I mean!" Why did he have to pick up such nonsensical statements from Leonardo! But he relaxed his muscles when he heard a giggle from [Y.N], who glanced back at the screen. He quietly released his breath, playing with his fingers a bit.

He bit the center of his cheek, replaying his previous thoughts in a loop. After all, it was part of his love language! **sink or swim.**

With a slight uncertainty, he moved even closer to them, and before they could react, they felt a vibrating warmth around their body.

[Y.N]’s cheeks were dusted with a rosy blush as they realized that their boyfriend had hugged them. After a moment of silence, they chuckled and patted Michelangelo on the shell. "Okay, okay," their voice brought a wider smile to the ninja's face.

When it dawned on [Y.N] that this wasn't just a regular, casual hug, they started to feel a bit nervous, sensing the usual muscle freeze that was typical for them. "M-Mikey? You know, the video is still playing..."

"And?" 

This worried the teenager a bit. they felt strangely good and awful at the same time. Eventually, the person pulled away from Mikey's embrace, retreating to the other end of the couch. "No, no, no...! Don't dismiss me!"

The turtle's face showed shock and surprise, though a hint of sadness lingered in his mind. "What?" Their eyes narrowed, catching the innocence in the boy's expression. It felt silly, so they averted their gaze.

"You hugged me for too long," heyt confessed quietly, furrowing brows. The boy adjusted himself, trying to better understand.

"Well, I thought it wouldn't bother you," he replied. Oops, did he overdo it? "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, really," they added quickly. Now what? **Now what?** Maybe they overreacted? Blast it!

Mikey looked at them with a remorseful expression, trying to understand their feelings. "I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable," he said sincerely.

The teenager gazed at him, seeing the honesty in his eyes. "It's not you, it's me... sometimes I'm a bit weird."

Mikey tilted his head slightly, feeling the ends of his bandana tickle his arm.

"Weird in a sense... you know, I'm not used to this touch."

"But we hug you all the time."

"Well, I know, but it's different... I got used to you guys, to your chaotic touches! But this... well, I don't know how to say it..." Single, crystalline tears appeared in [Y.N]'s eyes, which Mikey immediately noticed.

"Hey, hey! It's okay, you don't have to explain! I won't cause you any discomfort now, okay?"

"But I want to."

The teenager could see the confusion on Angelo's face, as if it were literally lifted from a typical anime. If it weren't for such a heavy atmosphere, they would have laughed. "I want us to hug, just, you know, slowly to the purpose."

After a moment, an imaginary light bulb appeared above the boy, and he smiled slightly, trying to ease the tension. "So, you're Touch-starved!"

His partner leaned back slightly, raising their eyebrows. "Yes, I didn't think you knew that term... sorry for the trouble."

"None of your concerns are trouble for me!" His cute smile brought a renewed blush to [Y.N] and the famous butterflies in their stomach. "We need to communicate everything!"

The teenager took a deep breath, feeling relieved. "You're right... Thanks, Mikey. You're the best."

"Oh, don't exaggerate!" It was a lie; Michelangelo basked in the compliment. "So, now that we know what's going on, shall we try again?"

The teenager smiled and felt that they were starting to break free from their own thoughts. "You know, for now, let's try holding hands for a bit longer."

The boy nodded slightly, getting closer to his partner. With a graceful move, he grabbed their hand and squeezed it.

[chloeillustrates16]

Sing to Me (2k16 Version)

(My personal head canon is that all the Leos love country music and will unironically blast it in the lair when their brothers are away).

Summary: It was late night in the lair, Mikey and Raph were out grabbing Pizza, and Donnie was out wanting to grab supplies for a new project he was working on. Leo had the lair to himself and decided why not to blast his comfort music.

Warnings: Y/n uses she/her pronouns, personal head canons, light swearing, fluff

---

Leo hardly got time alone in the lair; he loved to bask in the quietness of it.

Splinter knew of Leo's little secret; Splinter caught Leo in the kitchen dancing and singing as the radio played loudly. Splinter got a little kick out of seeing his stoic and stern leader of a son having fun and singing without a care in the world.

When Leo got caught; he apologized, saying that he'd turn the music down. Splinter just shook his head and lifted a hand stopping him. "Go ahead, I just wanted to see what you were doing," that's when the old rat walked back to his room to meditate. Leo was touched to say the least.

Leo was once again, back in the kitchen, the radio playing Morgan Wallen. A mix of the country artist's accent and Leo's voice filled the empty quietness of the lair. Leo bopped his head while he made his tea. He was so distracted by his own singing and dancing that he didn't hear the faint footsteps behind him.

---

The turtles met you when Leo saved you from falling debris from the Kraang's ship destroying some buildings while it was assembling itself. After that, the two of you were close, really close. Which confused you when you heard country music originating from the room where Leo was in.

You never took any of the guys to like country; yet here was the blue terrapin, listening and singing along to Morgan Wallen. You let out a soft giggle, as Leo swiftly moved across the kitchen while simultaneously dancing and singing the words that flowed from the radio's speakers.

You walked over to the radio, turning it down as Leo's voice bounced off the stone walls of the kitchen. Your heart skipped a beat, his voice was beautiful; the way the words flawlessly rolled off his tongue. He turned towards the radio and his heart jumped out of his chest.

You jumped as well seeing how much Leo jumped out of his own shell seeing you. "Y/N?" he stammered. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you guys, but I guess that the others aren't around. Is this some dirty little secret?" you voiced, teasingly.

"Please, Y/n, don't tell the others. I won't hear the end of it," he pleaded. You smile softly, of course you weren't, you loved this turtle too much to hurt him like that.

"Naw, I ain't going to do that," soft music came from the radio as you wrapped your arms around his waist. His face flushed,

"Thank you," he whispered softly against your shoulder.

"Wanna dance?" he let out a chuckle,

"Why not." You turned the music back to its original volume. His voice was a whisper as he sung the words,

"She wants to get married; she wants it perfect; she wants her granddaddy preaching the service. She wants magnolias, out in the country; not too many people, save her daddy some money." You let out a giggle, "ooh, she's got it all planned out; yeah, I can see it all right now. I wear my black suit, black tie; out in the back, I'll do a strong shot of whiskey, straight out the flask. I'll try make it through without crying, so nobody sees that, yeah, she wants to get married, but she don't wanna marry me."

You stare up at his big Sapphire eyes as he continued, "I remember the night when, I almost kissed her. Yeah, I kind of freaked out, we've been friends for forever." he let out a small chuckle, "And I'd always wondered if she felt the same way; when I got the invite, I knew it was too late. And I know...her daddy's been dreading this day, awe but he ain't the only one giving her away. I'll wear my black suit, black tie; out in the back, I'll do a strong shot of whiskey straight out the flask. I'll try to make it through without cry, so nobody sees, yeah, she wants to get married, but she don't wanna marry me."

Time felt like it stopped, your heart pounding against your ears. "But she got a long dress now; welcoming the guests now; I can try to find her, get it off of my chest now. But I ain't going to mess it up, so I'll wish her the best night. So, I'm in my black suit, black tie; I'm out in the back; doing a strong shot of whiskey, straight out the flask. I'll try to make it through without crying, so nobody see, yeah, she wanna get married, yeah, she's going to married. But she ain't going to marry me."

Something about Leo made you see him in a different light; he was your best friend, you loved him, but this was different. Your heart started to speed up; your arms wrapped around his neck, arms wrapping so safely around your waist in an embrace made you feel safe. Safer than you've ever felt before.

Your hands traveled from his neck to his shoulders; his rough scales brushing against your fingertips. Leo let out a soft churr as he leaned toward, his lips barely a hairline away from yours. It all felt like a dream; your fingers twitched as he started to lean in the rest of the way.

CRASH!

"We're back!" Leo jumps, turning off the radio. He turned away from you and vice versa. The tea kettle began to scream as Leo took it off the burner; you were in the fridge, pretending like you were about to grab a drink.

---

The earlier night's events played in your head as you tried to sleep. Your heart raced as you tried to not think about how you almost kissed your best friend; his rough scales feeling soft against your fingertips; how his breath barely fanned your face. How his lips were so close that you could barely feel them against your own. How. How. How.

Knock! Knock!

You gasp, lifting yourself off of your mattress. Turning, you saw a large shadow outside your window. You slipped off your bed and walked over to the window; there on your balcony was the familiar blue turtle. But he wasn’t wearing any of his gear; a big, leather jacket and jeans to ward off the cold mid-fall weather.

"Leo?" you whisper as you stood on the balcony.

"Hey," he greeted, still not looking in your direction.

"Is something wrong?"

"Couldn't sleep," he admitted. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come here; did I wake you up?"

"No," you admit. Your head leaned against his arm; Leo felt himself stiffen.

"Can we talk about earlier?"

"Sure."

"I'm sorry," you glance up at him.

"For what?"

"Almost kissing you, I was crossing a line." You stare up at him bewildered, "You're my friend; I'm sorry," you softly put your palm over his hand as he gripped the metal railing. You force him to turn his hand as your fingers intertwined with his--to the best of your ability--Leo looked at you, his eyes filled with shock and confusion.

"Don't apologize; what happened to the Leo in the kitchen, the Leo was singing his heart out to me, the Leo that was actively flirting with me?" He let out a nervous laugh,

"I guess the music helped the confidence boost," he admitted, taking his free hand and rubbing the back of his neck. "Silly, isn't it?"

"No," you whisper. Going up on your toes, your arms wrap around his neck as you captured his lips into yours. He let out a small squeak in surprise; he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

Pulling away, his blue eyes shinned silver against the city lights. You reached up, cupping his cheek, while your thumb brushed against the scales of his face. You loved seeing him without his mask; it was personal to see him without it; it was a sign of trust.

"Wanna dance?" You repeated your question from the kitchen. He nodded, the two of you enter your room as Leo discarded his phone on your bed as music played softly in the background.

"I'm jealous of blue jeans that you're wearing, and the way they're holding you so tight." Leo sung, "I'm jealous of the moon that keeps on staring, so lock the door and turn out the night. I want you all to myself, we don't need anyone else; let our bodies to the talking; let out shadows paint the wall." You smile as he continued, "I want you here in my arms, we'll hide away in the dark. Slip your hand in my back pocket, go and let your long hair fall. I want you all to myself, to myself."

"I'm jealous of the song that you've been singing, and the way it's rolling off your lips. It might be selfish, but I'm thinking, I don't need nothin' between you leanin' for another kiss, yeah. I want you all to myself, we don't need anyone else. Let out bodies to the talking, let our shadows paint the wall. I want you hear in my arms; we'll hide away in the dark. Slip your hand in my back pocket; go and let your long hair fall. I want you all, all, all, to myself, to myself."

You lean forward, pressing your lips back to his. "Girl, I want you in the worse way; yeah, I want you in the worse way." You let out a laugh as he hummed against your neck. "I want you all to myself, we don't need anyone else. Let our bodies to the talking; let our shadows paint the wall. I want you hear in my arms; we'll hide away in the dark! Slip your hand in my back pocket, go and let your long hair fall! I want you, all, all, all to myself, to myself. I want you all, all, all, to myself, to myself, yeah!"

You rolled your eyes playfully, "Who knew you could be such a sap." He let out a chuckle,

"Me, I'm pretty sure."

"Also flirty," his face flushed.

—-

He walked you over your window. "Are you sure you don't want to spend the night?"

"As much as I'd love to. I really don't want to get interrogated by anyone when I get back," he explained. You pouted, "I'll see you tomorrow." You blushed as he pressed a kiss against your temple.

Before he could leave, you grab the arm of his jacket. He paused, turning back towards you with a confused look. "You missed," before he could respond your lips were back on his. Pulling away, he stared at you in a daze; you snap your fingers in front of his face.

Shit, you broke him!

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

Music used:

Marry me--Thomas Rhett

All to Myself--Dan and Shay

[brooklynislandgirl]

54. Is there someone you will never forget?

Generating Steam Heat || Accepting

Beth intentionally takes a bite of her salad. Chews it into a slow inexorable oblivion before swallowing and taking a sip of her iced tea ~non alcoholic~ as she considers Kit's question. The answer is immediate, of course. Comes rushing to the forefront of her mind almost the second the prompt drifts between them. But it comes from the primordial beginning of her memories, ones she barely reaches for lest they break. Lest the pain attached to most of them come stealing over her. She lifts her napkin and dabs her lips before setting it back in her laugh. Girded as best she can, she glances up at her friend. "I don' know his name. I couldn't tell you wha' he looks like now." She glances around the restaurant. "If he was right next to us, or half da world away. What I do remembah is dat he was all knees an' elbows an' huge ears. Hair da colour of summer wheat an' maybe as feathery. Eyes more blue dan da waddah of Hanauma Bay." Subconsciously Beth reaches one hand to the wrist of the other and fiddles with the bracelet there. It's made of strong or yarn with little shells and bits of sea glass. "He was about my age, mebbe four. No older dan five. We played in da surf, curled up on towels an' let da sun warm our skin. We shared our sandwiches and crisps an' some fruit. He wen go find shells…cowrie an' puka shell an' bits of glass dat da sea turned into treasure. Usin' every bit an' scrap he could find…he made us bracelets, all t'ree. Himself, me, Panda." The smile she offers is only a slice of its normal brightness, chipped in places by an intangible sense of loss. "Nevah saw him again aftah dat day but…For some reason, he still in my head all dese years later. Sometimes it feels like I should try an' find him, sometimes I don't know it was real at all." Except, she still has the bracelet. She pauses and one brow lowers, questioning. "You…you didn't mean it dat way, did you? Uhm...if ya mean it romantic like... yeah naw. Closest I evah came t' dat was I had a crush once. An' it was awful, terrible, probably one of da mos' traumatic moments of my life. But wha' about you? Who ya got dat's unforgettable?"

[trashytummiez]

Story Prompt: Mina does the Coke and Mentos challenge and ends up with a bubbly belchy belly afterwards.

Warning: contains belly kink bloating burps fluff hiccups indigestion nausea tummy play tummy rubs

"Is it recording?" Mina asked in her casual wares standing in a field.

Kirishima gave a thumbs up from behind his phone whilst recording his girlfriend.

Mina grinned and waved back at the camera. "Hiiiii guys! Soooo we read your comments on the last challenge video and since so many of you requested it we're gonna tackle the coke and mentos challenge!" She held up a thick 2 liter bottle of diet coke with a pack of mentos. "Seems easy enough don'tcha think?"

"You got this dude!" Kirishima encouraged her from behind the camera.

"Let's find out!" Mina said excitedly then pouted at the camera. "If I get sick though I'm totally blaming this on Mineta. Don't act like you weren't one of the commentators you little purple creep!"

Her pout turned to an eager and confident grin.

"Anyway! Let's do this!"

She opened the mentos pack and popped a mentos into her mouth.

"Now I keep hearing mixed things that you're not supposed to chew them or anything right? So," she dipped her head back and swallowed the mentos whole which made a tiny lump emerge from the front of her pink neck until it sank down her gullet with a light squelch. Mina popped another mentos into her mouth and did the same thing of swallowing it whole. She did that for about five or six mentos then huffed softly. "Wow swallowing those whole doesn't feel the best," she complained rubbing her throat softly but that discomfort was short lived. "But that should make them more reactive so lets get this challenge started for reals!"

Now came the fun part.

Mina cracked open her 2 liter bottle of diet coke and lifted it up to her lips so she could begin chugging it down. She rested her eyes shut as she took in big thick gulps of soda. Her throat throbbed and rippled with the passage of fizzy diet sugar water flowing down her gullet all at once.

"Wow you're really guzzlin' that stuff down!" Kirishima exclaimed with an impressed whistle.

Mina continued chugging at an impressive rate. She got the soda down to its label in one go without stopping and Kirishima cheering her on for every second of her chugging.

Eventually she pulled the bottle away and panted so heavily that some soda dribbled from her mouth. In the midst of her panting she gave a short but foamy sounding burp. She covered her mouth after then immediately blew her hand back with a massive burp. That one belted out of her so hard that Kirishima would've sworn that even he could feel it.

The boy laughed heavily behind the camera. "Gahahahah! Dude nice! That was real manly!"

"Whew! Wow!" Mina exclaimed and patted her tummy in an impressed sort of way. "Ungh man that was so loud!"

"How're ya feelin' so far?" Kirishima asked.

Mina rubbed her stomach experimentally and pouted in contemplation. "Kinda full but..." she paused while she rubbed and gave a look of discomfort. Then she gripped her stomach a little more firmly and gave another powerful burp that left her panting and left Kirishima laughing. "Unf...'kay I'm definitely feelin' a lil bubbly," Mina admitted and rubbed her belly gently from side to side. Then she grinned again. "But nothin' I can't handle!"

So she went back to swigging her beverage down. Mina could always get a lot of liquids down since her body burned through whatever she ate slightly faster from the acid she secretes warming her body temperature up. The more soda filled her tummy up though the more the mentos began to react. By not chewing them up first those minty shells fizzed with the soda in her stomach and reacted much more violently than they otherwise would have. It was getting so bad that Kirishima could actually hear Mina's belly gurgling from where he was standing.

"Dude I think I can actually hear yer stomach gurglin'! This is pretty intense ain't it," Kirishima asked.

Mina nodded while she chugged her bottle down. One hand rested on her tummy and rubbed it softly up and down. It was beginning to look bloated from both the soda she's downed and all the bubbles filling her up. And the churning noises were only getting louder by the second.

She eventually had to pull away again and catch her breath. Only for a grizzly sounding burp to erupt out of her mouth with extreme force. Mina gasped when that one left her system then patted her belly and burped again. "Oooh dude I don't feel good," Mina complained and held her bloated tummy with both hands. She held a hand over her mouth and gave an incredibly thick closed mouth burp.

Kirishima frowned with concern for her girlfriend. "D'ya wanna stop? We can take a break or call it quits. I don't want'cha gettin' sick or anything."

But Mina shook her head. She opened her mouth to start speaking but ended up burping hard instead which made her cover her mouth. "Nuh uh. Plus ultra right? It's just some silly challenge. Nothing we can't-" Mina interrupted herself with a large burp then covered her mouth again. "...Unf...handle."

She brought the bottle stubbornly to her lips and was about to chug but had to stop and burp again. One thing was certain this challenge was making her incredibly gassy. But that didn't stop her.

Mina powered on through. She guzzled the drink down while the fizz in her belly intensified. Her stomach was expanding more from the carbonation and all the soda she was drinking to the point where her normally flat tummy was looking a little round behind her tight shirt.

She continued chugging with a fiery look of determination in her eyes.

Kirishima cheered her on inspired by that very determination. "You got this dude! What's a lil soda compared to a hero right?!"

...He got really inspired by her determination.

It was getting painful though. The churning bubbling in Mina's tummy was growing aggressive with a sickly acidity to it. It made her throat feel sour and raw with a light burning in her chest.

But still Mina chugged on without any signs of quitting.

Until she somehow managed to down every last drop of the bottle. After swallowing the rest down she flipped the bottle upside down and shook it to show not a drop fall out.

"Ha! Done...!" Mina panted confidently yet exhaustedly. Suddenly she dropped the bottle and her hands flew to her belly in time for the girl to unleash the single loudest and longest burp she'd ever uttered clocking in at ten seconds straight!

Kirishima fell in love with her all over again.

"...Dude. That was the manliest thing I've ever seen...!" he muttered in absolute awe.

Mina just gasped like she was out of breath then burped again.

"God I feel so bloated," Mina moaned and took a moment to massage her bloated tummy with both hands. But she managed a grin back at the camera. "Okay guys! Challenge beaten!" She paused to give a really deep closed mouth burp that rumbled heavily behind her lips. "Ungh...mostly. Anyway! If you have any other challenges you wanna see me or my boyfriend doing hit us up in the comments below! And as always th-aaAAAAAANKsss-for watching...!"

Kirishima snickered when Mina accidentally burped the word 'thanks' out but that seemed like as good a time as any to stop recording.

The second he did Kirishima put the phone in his pocket and helped Mina sit down on the grass so he could help her feel a little better. He very gently started to rub her tummy up and down while she leaned back and groaned.

"Ooooooh I don't feel good..." Mina groaned out. Her stomach gurgled thickly in agreement.

"I'll bet. That sounds gnarly..." Kirishima admitted. He gently rubbed over the rounded crest of Mina's stomach using the heel of his palm to knead into it as he rubbed. "Still. Ya did a real good job! That was so manly the way ya powered through yer own discomfort like that!"

Mina turned her head and held a fist against her mouth in time to let rip a big closed mouth burp that she could barely contain behind her lips. The sound rumbled in her mouth heavily for a few seconds and left her breezily blowing the gas off to the side. "Unnngh...urhp...I'd call it a draw really. The challenge is kinda kicking my butt right now..."

"Naw you got this," Kirishima encouraged her and kneaded an especially tense part of her belly. The burp that the pink girl released after that was so strong that even Kirishima could feel it reverberating in his own body.

"Ohhhh that felt good," Mina moaned palming the side of her tummy in a deeply satisfied way.

Kirishima grinned while he kneaded her belly some more to help work more gas out. "Hahah~ I love that."

"What me burping?"

"Naw! Like-well okay that's pretty awesome too-but like the way ya don't get all embarrassed by it even though we're out in public. It's so fearless and manly!"

Mina giggled and instantly regretted it when the giggles jiggled her tummy around and made her hiccup. She covered her mouth but managed a grin back at Kirishima. "Got a thing for tomboys do ya?"

The red-haired boy scratched his cheek and blushed lightly. "...Kinda."

"Well for the record I have a thing for manly boys like you. So..." Mina leaned over and kissed Kirishima's cheek making the boy blush even harder than he already was.

She grinned satisfied but her belly gave another painfully gaseous grumble that left her groaning with discomfort. "Ohhhh man that still feels rough..."

"Here lemme help," Kirishima said.

He eagerly kneaded into Mina's tummy sliding his hand under her shirt so he could knead his fingers directly against her soft pink stomach. His fingers were hardened ever so slightly by focusing his hardening quirk into them. Kirishima compressed them into the tightest part of Mina's belly hoping to unknot her stomach muscles.

But in the process of pressing into her belly like that he dislodged a sizable pressure pocket.

Mina lurched sharply when that happened and covered her mouth like she was about to be sick. Instead her hand was blown back as she let out a giant record breaking burp. It carried on for several seconds. Not as long as that ten second burp she gave when she finished the bottle but around there and arguably louder and gassier. In fact Kirishima could feel the gas exiting so hard from her stomach that he felt her flesh jiggle ever so slightly. The feeling had him blushing even harder.

When that enormous gas bubble had been dislodged from her tummy Mina gasped breathlessly like a weight had been lifted from her stomach. Then she slapped her belly with one hand and gave another huge burp. And with that came another long throaty burp. That massive displacement of air caused the rest of the air in her stomach to come rushing up.

After letting out one last especially lengthy burp Mina flopped backwards onto her back with her arms at her sides and sighed heavily.

"Hhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh...ohhhhh that feels soooooooo much better..."

Kirishima grinned a big fang-filled grin and gave her a thumbs up. "Dude that was epic!"

Mina smiled heavenly back at Kirishima. "Couldn't have done it without my manly man's help."

At this rate Kirishima was blushing so hard that his face was matching his red hair after a while.

[freshouttaparsnips]

all Edge wants is for this to last forever

he gets his wish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this is a fic ive wanted to start up for a while, i hope you all enjoy it :D mind the tags!!

tags: Fluff, Schmoop, Hurt/Comfort, More comfort than hurtl Chronic Illness, Wheelchairs, Growing Old Together, Friends to Lovers, Lovers to Married Couple, fast burn

read chapter 1 on Ao3

or read it below!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first night that Edge (and wasn’t the new name a bit of a kick in the teeth) found himself in this new, strange land, he found he didn’t like it one bit.

Everything was soft. Which should have been a blessing, should have been something that let him relax for once in his stars damed life, but he couldn’t trust it. Couldn’t let himself back down from being ready for a fight for his life at all times.

It’d been beat into him enough to watch his blind spot that when Sans (not his brother, never his brother) walked up behind him, he was prepared.

“What the fuck do you want?”

Sans didn’t back up, didn’t get out of his space, simply kept walking until he stood next to Edge, no longer where he couldn’t really see him without turning fully. He glanced up at Edge with no reproach, no redirected anger of his own. Only a question of Edge’s wellbeing in a well meaning expression. It was respectful, surprisingly so, and it knocked a bit of the air out of Edge’s anger.

“I apologize, Sans. What do you need?”

There was a laugh, breathed out as a sigh, as Sans stood next to him, staring out at the party that had started despite Edge’s better judgment. He’d spoken against this party, but Papyrus had wanted to celebrate the arrival of the new ones (Slim and Razz, what names to force upon the unsuspecting fools). So celebrate they had, leaving Edge on the outskirts to keep a watch on everything.

It was always left to him. Red didn’t even watch his back these days, too infatuated with this Papyrus and Blue.

Sans finally spoke, leaning with his back against the wall. “Figured you looked a ‘lil lonely over here. Might need some company that isn’t drunk.”

Edge grimaced at the reminder. Even Papyrus was drunk, the majority of them over in the far corner singing along with a karaoke machine. Every high pitched, poorly toned shout of lyrics made his head pound more and more; he was sure he’d have a headache by the end of the night.

Still, it showed a surprising amount of mindfulness on Sans’ part. That he even cared about Edge’s comfort was a bit of a shock, but maybe it shouldn’t have been. While none of them had been all that happy about being thrown from their worlds to this farce of a peace land, Sans had seemed to take it the worst, in the beginning. He didn’t trust any of them, barely tolerated Red and Blue and Stretch. Edge though… he avoided.

At the time Edge hadn’t known why, and hadn’t cared to ask. Now, though…

“Why do you care?” It came out a bit more harsh than he intended, but with Sans huffing a snort, he figured it wasn’t too awful.

“Why do I care?” he repeated back, staring with eyes that saw too much at the crowd of skeletons and monsters and humans alike.

“I care ‘cause I know what’s its like to have the damn rug thrown out from under ya.”

He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t really have to. Edge had seen the scars on him and Papyrus both and knew they’d suffered the same fate of creation the rest of them had. He didn’t need to look at Sans’ HP to know his hope was low, that he was hanging on for his brother and that was about it.

It made something awaken in him, something that felt warm in a way he hadn’t felt in a long ass time.

He followed Sans around the rest of the night, much like a loyal dog. Sans never mentioned it, and didn’t seem all that put out by sober company. Eventually Sans headed for the kitchen to grab a cheese tray to replace the old, decimated one, and was heading through the doorway when a stray puddle of what looked like soda caught his foot and sent both him and the tray sailing.

Edge didn’t take a second to think about it, catching Sans with blue magic and drawing him close. A quick check of his HP showed he was fine, just startled, and when Edge set him down to start cleaning up the mess, he continued to stand there, a little shell shocked.

It took nearly two seconds to clean up the spill, something that made Edge a little peeved seeing as how there were multiple 1 HP skeletons around that could have met the same, if not worse fate than Sans had.

He’d have to talk to Papyrus about getting so drunk he was passed out when his brother was around people he didn’t know so well. He thought it wouldn’t have been an issue, but perhaps it had been an oversight.

The stars knew Papyrus had had his eyelights glued on Red most of the night. Edge shouldn’t have been so surprised that a minor Pepsi spill had been missed.

But that didn’t soften his anger any more about it, especially not when he caught Sans with a slight limp, making his way back to the slightly more calm couch area. Edge followed immediately, settling onto the seat next to him as he plopped down.

“Does it need healed?” he asked, Sans seemingly surprised that he’d even noticed.

“Naw, just a sprain. Didn’t even touch my HP, which you already know.” At that he gave Edge a stink eye, not that it made Edge feel any less aggravated at the party as a whole.

It was loud, the people around them stunk of alcohol, he didn’t know where his brother was, and Sans had almost gotten hurt in a way that would have changed the course of the night in a bad way.

But, sitting next to him, he watched as Sans rummaged around in the couch for the TV remote, humming a video game tune as he held it aloft before clicking through the channels.

“You seem like a Great British Bake Off kinda guy.” Sans said, like that was supposed to mean anything, but as he found the channel he wanted, settling into the couch like he owned it, Edge found that it wasn’t that bad of a show.

Not with the warmth of someone who cared next to him.

[pakchoys]

on that note, do you have any edling fic recs? 👀

this would be a lot easier if i bookmarked all the fics i read. huh

i haven’t actively read any since the days when i consumed edling at a horrifying rate to ease the suffering of being fifteen. obviously there are the ones i wrote as noodlebunny on ao3, but those are a dumpster fire, good god

the ones i saved are probably ones you’ve read if you’ve spent any time on the edling tag at all, soooo……… can i interest you in some meagre edling dug up from my old fma files? it’s a modern au where ed adopts nina, alternatively titled Ed Fights A Twelve Year Old Then Meets His Future Boyfriend

Words: 1.6k

TW for implied child abuse

Edward watches Nina from a bench at the edge of the play park. He shifts his grip on his paper cup while Nina moves from the slide to the monkey bars. There was a time where he would have been up there with her, arms raised and ready if she fell; now that Nina’s seven years old, however, she’s a self-proclaimed big girl who can tackle the monkey bars herself. It’s good, seeing her so independent.

If only Ed’s heart wouldn’t plummet into his stomach every time she so much as slips.

It can’t be helped. Al calls him an over protective mother hen; Ed calls himself sensible, thank you kindly.

Nina clears the monkey bars without a hitch. From the top of the unholy metal playpark structure of death, she gives Ed a winning smile and a wave, sending her two braids flying. Ed waves back, adding a thumbs up for good measure.

His phone pings. Ed fishes it out of his jacket.

Al’s texted, Want to see the cat I saw on campus today??? followed by a string of cat emojis dispersed with hearts.

not really, Ed replies, a smile tugging at him because he knows Al knows he’s lying.

Oops, too late, Al says. The cat’s cute, sort of. Ed doesn’t really get the beasts, but Al’s crazy for them and so is Nina, which means it’s such a damn nightmare when Al encourages her.

demon gremlin creature, Ed sends.

He’s so preoccupied with watching the dots as Al types that he doesn’t hear Nina until she’s crying.

His phone is left abandoned on the bench as he sprints towards her, and oh god, she’s on the ground—what if something’s broken? What if she hit her head, what if—what if she’s hurt bad just because Ed couldn’t keep an eye on her, not for five damn minutes—what if they take her away—

Not until he’s stopping next to her does Ed realise that there’s another girl there too. She’s already helping Nina sit up, her crying has already beginning to taper into little sniffles.

“Nina,” Ed says gently, “Are you okay? Where does it hurt?”

“‘M fine, big brother.” She looks up at him through her tears, as stoic as a seven year old in yellow dungarees can be. Too brave, too willing to hide her pain. “I fell off the climbing wall. It’s just a scrape.”

He gingerly checks her knee over and, yeah, it’s just a sluggishly bleeding cut but there’s sure to be bruising. The plasters and disinfectant are all back at the apartment.

“Oh, here, I can help!”

In what Alphonse fondly dubs as Big Brother Panic, Ed had completely forgotten the girl who helped Nina up. She looks maybe a few years older than Nina, but she’s short and her black hair is in two massive buns so it’s hard to tell. Rifling through her pink backpack, she pulls out a box of plasters and antiseptic salve.

“You just carry that around with you?” Ed asks flatly.

The little girl, previously so sweet to Nina, shoots him a cold glare. “What’s it to you, shortie?”

“Wh—Hey! You’re like, ten! Shortie! Shortie?! I’m a damn giant next to you!”

“Yeah, next to me.” She rolls her eyes. “Not saying much, is it? And I’m twelve, so watch it, or I’ll cut you down another inch.”

Ed’s in half a mind to pick Nina up and nope the fuck out of here. ‘Roasted by a twelve year old’ wasn’t on his schedule. He does the roasting, dammit.

“Big brother, calm down,” says Nina. “You’re being silly.”

Oh, Ed woes the day this doe-eyed girl wrapped him around her little finger.

“Right. Sorry, kiddo.”

“Anyway, I’m Mei,” says the demon in the body of a girl with a pink backpack. “I’m gonna be a doctor someday, so I can help you out.”

“I’m Nina! This is my big brother, Edward. He’s grumpy right now but he’s really the best.”

“Hm.” Mei narrows her eyes at him. “We’ll see.”

He will not stick his tongue out at a child. He will not stick his tongue out at a child.

To her credit, Mei is efficient and gentle about dressing Nina’s cut. She’s got excellent bedside manner too, and by the end of it Nina’s tears are all gone and she’s warmed to Mei like a new best friend. Not all kids are good with younger kids, and Ed’s silently impressed.

“Are you out here alone?” Ed asks as he helps Nina up. Not that Central in the middle of the day is especially dangerous.

“Naw, I’m with my brother. He went to get us ice cream, and then I saw Nina fall down, so I came over to help.”

“Nice of you.”

“Yeah, I’m a nice person.” Mei shrugs her backpack on. “We can’t all be, I suppose.”

“Hey kid, is that supposed to mean something—“

“Big brother Ed, can we get ice cream?” Nina clings very suddenly to Ed’s automail arm, tugging enthusiastically. She’s always been casual about his prosthetics. It’s nice to have someone who doesn’t give it a second glance, even if that someone is a tiny child begging for more sweets.

“I guess so,” ponders Ed, pretending to debate it. “You have been pretty brave today. And it’s hot out. But try be more careful playing next time, okay?”

“‘Kay! Ice cream?”

“Sure.”

“Yay! You’re the best, big brother!”

Ed can’t help but notice Mei watching them strangely. He’s sure they must look strange and not related at all, what with Ed’s Xerxian complexion. Whatever.

“In that case, come meet my brother,” Mei says. “He’s probably waiting for me at the ice cream place. Havoc’s, you know the one?”

“We went there for my birthday!” Nina’s bouncing now. Ed’s whole arm shakes.

“Well, come on then. I have a feeling my bro’s gonna like you.” Mei looks at him funny as she says it. Ed does not like this child.

It’s busy out on such a sunny day. Ed gets a few stares at his arm, and he almost, almost regrets going out in a t-shirt. Then Nina holds his hand tighter, beaming up at him, and he breathes easier.

Now if only he could bring himself to wear shorts too.

“There he is,” says Mei as the ice cream place comes into view. “Ah, jeez, he’s shirtless again.”

“Wait, what?” says Ed.

Mei ignores him in favour of stalking up to a guy about Ed’s age, nineteen or maybe older, who is indeed entirely shirtless. Ed looks furiously away.

“Hey, you dolt!” Mei near-shouts, drawing looks from bystanders. “Put your shirt on in public! You’re so embarrassing, Ling, I can’t believe we’re related.”

“Aw, is my baby sister embarrassed?” Ling chuckles and ruffles her hair, wincing as his hand is slapped away. “It’s hot. I’m just airing out!”

“It’s public indecency, if you’re looking to get arrested again. Where’s our ice cream?”

“Oh, that. It’s a funny story, you know…”

“You ate it?! Again?”

“Ahahah…”

“Buy me another!”

“I would, I would! But that was the last change I had…”

“Ugh! Next time I’m going with Lan Fan and you can’t come.”

“Hey, hey, it’s not my fault you took so long! Chill!”

“I was helping out a girl with a cut knee, so don’t give me that crap.”

Ling seems to notice them, then. He pushes his floppy black hair away and gives Ed a winning grin, sticking his hand out to shake. Ed cringes; he’s gonna have to use his automail hand, and that makes people act so annoyingly awkward.

Ling just grips his hand without missing a beat, shaking firmly.

“I’m Ling!”

“… Ed. This is Nina.”

“Hiya, Nina!” Ling bends down slightly to wave. “Wow, I love your braids. Stylish.”

“Thanks!” Nina chirps, encouraged out of her shell by Ling’s friendliness. She’s not what Ed would call a shy child, but there was a period where she was so withdrawn Ed worried she’d never recover from what her bastard of a father did to her.

Tried to do.

“Your sister’s right,” says Ed to Ling. “You should put a shirt on.”

Way to make friends, idiot. So friendly and approachable.

Ling stares; Mei snorts. Ed contemplates his own terrible, off putting personality.

Then Ling waggles his eyebrows and says, “What, don’t like what you see?”

“Wh— Hey—!” He’s spluttering and bright red and say something! “No, it’s terrible! I hate it! Put a damn shirt on!”

Not that!

He doesn’t dare look Ling in the eyes as he briskly scoops Nina up, much to her indignation, and escapes into the ice cream parlour. He just knows the shirtless idiot is watching him.

“Big brother, can we see them again? They’re so cool!”

“No, they’re not, Nina. They’re the worst and we hate them. Pick a flavour.”

“But what about Mei? She doesn’t get any ice cream!”

“Too bad.”

Oh, no. He’s done it now. Nina’s eyes begin to water and Ed’s heart clenches, already knowing he’s done for.

“Hey, kiddo, I’m sorry.”

“If Mei doesn’t get any, I won’t have any. ‘S not fair if I’m the only one…”

Ed closes his eyes. His counts to three. He faces the facts.

“If that’s the case…”

—

Later, when they all have ice cream out of Ed’s pocket and stupid Ling is wearing a stupid shirt, Ed adamantly pretends not to hear Mei lean over and say,

“See, I told you my brother would like you.”

—

A/N: ED STOP CUSSING IN FRONT OF CHILDREN

[splat-dragon]

Hi again!!! Could I request another Micah fic- but with EXTREME body horror? Maybe something with his face, where’s he’s kept alive and tortured? If you could do some branding and amputation (any amount of limbs- get crazy heehee) along with the other body horror and mutilation- that would be incredible!!! Tysm!!! 💖💕💖💕💖

why won't somebody come and save me from this, make it end?

AO3 LINK

@thedoodlenoodle-wa

“You know, Mr. Bell, my opinion on traitors.”

 and if the devil wore a man’s skin, the devil stood before him. Micah had never feared Van Der Linde - rather the opposite, in fact. Had thought him a soft fool, long fallen from his days as Dutch Van Der Linde, Outlaw King, but as he took in the feral smile and the hard glint of his beetle’s shell eyes, he knew that this was the face countless lawmen had seen just before their deaths.

 “Dutch,” he tried a final time, “I ain’t no traitor,”

 but the man only inclined his head in acquiescence, “I know, Mr. Bell. You’re a survivor.”  

 Micah’s eyes widened, looking from gang member to gang member, but none of them had so much as a hint of pity, of sympathy in their eyes. Even the O’Driscoll’s eyes were dark with, if not hate, severe dislike - and Bell’s chest burned with rage, the man was a snake himself!

 Van Der Linde clapped once, and their heads snapped to him as dogs to their master, “Mr. Morgan, Mr. Smith, Mr. Williamson, Mr. Matthews, if you would make sure our friend can’t make a run for it?”

 Our friend.

  Our friend.

 He knew what ‘our friend’ meant, and it was nothing good. Ice dripped down his spine and, at the nasty grin on Morgan’s face, at the dawning realization on Smith’s and Williamson’s faces when they looked from Morgan to Matthews, he felt his heart drop into the floor.

 “The rest of you, please go back to work! It’s crowded down here, and they’ll need space to work.” There were calls of discontent, and rather loud grumblings, but everyone cleared out, Van Der Linde waiting until they were all gone before clapping Matthews on the shoulder and following suit.

“Come on,” he tried for calm, for collected, didn’t think he pulled it off quite as well as he meant to, “you don’t really think I’d rat on you, do you?” but no one said anything, ignored him as Williamson lit the fire, throwing firewood in, while Smith relaxed against the wall with Matthews, the latter whispering something to Morgan before doing so, the younger man clambering up the stairs, “Where’s he going?”

 No one replied - he might as well have been furniture for how much attention was paid to him.

Morgan came clattering down, the flames in the fireplace roaring so hot they were sweating, something gleaming bright in his hand, passed off to Williamson and shoved into the flames so quickly he couldn’t get a good look at it, “What is that?” and his voice was much higher than he’d intended it to be.

 Again, he was ignored, Matthews instead addressing the three, “Make sure he’s well tied down ‘cept his right leg, I want to make sure you don’t get hit.”

 He fought, thrashed against his bindings, but he was already well tied and they carefully redid the ropes until they dug into his skin, he could feel his hair being torn out with each twitch and growled angrily, lashing out with his free leg. A whack to the back of his head stunned him,and he slumped, barely aware of his pants being torn off, cut where they were stopped by his bindings, and thrown off into the corner.

Matthews began to tap just below his knee, his voice distorted as he tried to gather his senses about him, drawing a line just under his kneecap, and Williamson nodded solemnly, though his face was anything but.

 Morgan dumped alcohol on his leg and he jolted, “What the hell?” and if grins could kill half of New Hanover would’ve dropped over dead.

 “Mr. Morgan, Mr. Smith, please keep him still.”

 “Yes Hosea!” they knelt, dragging his leg out and wrapping their arms around his lower leg, holding it so still that, though he tried to kick, he couldn’t even manage to twitch his foot, barely even managed to wriggle his toes. 

 “What the hell?!” he barked, but again was ignored, a scraping noise catching his attention and he turned to see Williamson drawing something white-hot from the fire, “What is that?” then as he neared he realized, oh god that’s a bone-saw what are they doing?

 “Careful, Bill,”

 “I know I know,” he grumbled, aligning the bone-saw just below his knee and Micah howled, jolting back or, at least, tried to, was well bound and Morgan and Smith had a good grip on his leg, already burning though he wasn’t yet touched and then—

  Tearing.

  Ripping.

 He couldn’t even scream.

  Sawing.

 His mouth gaped soundlessly, and he tried to double over, tried to lash out, but Smith and Morgan tightened their grips, held his leg straight out, and Williamson continued to saw steadfastly, sawing through skin and fat and muscle, cussing and carefully adjusting his cut when he scraped bone, turning up their noses at the scent of burning flesh.

  StopstopstopstopstopitHURTS

 The saw severed the last of the clinging skin and his lower leg dropped, would have hit the floor if it weren’t for Smith and Morgan’s hands gripping near his ankle, grimacing as they held the severed limb. “Take it upstairs Arthur,” and Smith was happy to let Morgan take the limb upstairs, stepping back to stand near the fire, as far from Micah as possible. “Is he bleeding, Bill?”

 Bill turned back from where he’d been shoving the bone-saw into the fire, giving Micah’s stump a cursory glance, “Naw, it burned it shut nicely.”

 Micah whimpered pitifully, mouth opening and closing - whywhywhy they’d crippled him they’d ruined him they’d destroyed him he was ruined

 His ears rang, their words swam through his head like so much water, and then they were going upstairs and why were they going upstairs why were they leaving him alone nonono don’t leave me alone!

An hour passed.

 Two.

 At least by his estimate, but he hadn’t a watch or a clock or a window or, even, a sundial. 

 Then three.

 And still, he was left alone.

 The silence rattled in his bones, each thud of his heart as loud as the crack of a gunshot. His leg hurt, God, it hurt, but it wasn't a leg anymore was it it was a stump

 If he opened his mouth he was going to scream, and scream, and scream.

He needed to run.

 They'd left him to starve, surely. To suffer to death.

 But he was not going to just sit there and starve. He began to twist his wrists, to work at the rope, bit his tongue against the pain as the rope shredded his skin, blood dripping down his arms until, finally! the knot on one came free and he tore at the other, growling as he flayed the skin of his fingers, surging and hurrying to free his ankle.

 Looked at his stump, felt the world wobble around him, tore his eyes away - he could freak out later, or never, preferably never - and staggered to his feet-foot, lurching and grabbing the wall as a crutch.

 Micah took a deep breath, leaned on the wall, and took a step.

 Hop.

 Step.

 Hop.

 Step.

 When he got out, he was going to kill them. Stand tall and proud and grin as he watched them hang.

 Hop.

 Step.

 Hop.

 Put a bullet through Williamson himself, Milton wouldn't mind much.

 Step.

 Hop.

 So long as they ended up dead, Milton would be happy.

At the stairs, he hesitated. Snarled, and lowered himself, a scream bitten off as he held his stump off the ground and began to crawl up, eyes on the cellar door.

 So close.

 It hurt.

 So close.

 It hurt.

He crouched as best he could when he couldn’t go any higher without hitting his head on the cellar door, straining his hearing and praying there was no one waiting. If they found him… if they found him trying to escape, who knew what they would do?

 Micah’d underestimated them once, and he didn’t intend to do so again.

There was silence and so he pushed it up, just slightly, and peered out. Only trees, and brush, and nothing else that he could make out, no voices or even horses, so he dared to open it and crawl out, biting his tongue until it bled when he had to put weight on his stump as he stood as best he could, grabbing a nearby tree and—

 —then he was off. Hobbling, grabbing anything he could use as a crutch. Tree by tree

 Hop

 Step

 Hop

 Step

 Tree

 Tree

 Tree

 And then he fell, and let himself lie, feeling awful sorry for himself. Agony throbbed through his leg, and it took all he had not to whine and whimper and cry out, and then he forced himself to stand and keep going, the further away he was when they found him gone the better and—

 “There he is!”

 His eyes went wide, 'Nonono!' and he began to hop - hopstephopstep - as fast as he could, but then Morgan was on him and the barrel of a gun was slamming into his head and pain!

and he was waking up back in the cellar, bound so tight he could hardly breathe.

  ‘No! Nononono!’

 He wasn’t alone for long. The cellar door creaked open, and his heart began to race, to leap and to bound so quickly he feared it might stop altogether, and then, impossibly, it raced faster when he saw Matthews and Smith and Williamson and Morgan coming down the stairs, faces serious as a heart attack.

  ‘No, no, no!’

 “That was real dumb Micah,” Morgan smirked, a slow, cruel thing that crawled across his face and bared his teeth, and Matthews patted his arm,

 “Don’t be mean, Arthur,” before directing Williamson to start the fire and oh god what were they going to do?

 Micah yelled, muffled by his gag, and slammed his foot into the ground, bound only by ropes around his arms, and Morgan looked to Matthews, raised an eyebrow, and the old man nodded, and then they were descending on him and he couldn’t even scream as they broke his leg, grabbing it and bringing his thigh down so hard over Morgan’s that the bone broke in half like a twig, Smith slamming his fist into his face, Morgan’s fists into his stomach and he felt something break, his nose shattered, then another rib, fuck he couldn’t breathe—

 “Enough boys, we want him alive.”

 They fell off, knuckles split and bloodied, eyes never leaving him as they stepped back to stand on either side of Matthews. Micah slumped over, gasping as best he could around the gag, testing metal, struggling not to drown in the blood from his broken nose, his head throbbing both from Smith’s punch and from the blow of Morgan’s gun, his ribs screaming, waves crashing in his ears as they talked, words nonsensical to him, moving around and doing… well, he wasn’t sure what.

 And then pain.

 Morgan and Smith were grabbing his snapped leg and pulling it straight out and he shrieked, writhing, tears dripping down his face and god he didn’t cry, he never cried, bile was rising in his throat and he struggled to swallow it down if he vomited he was going to choke to death, but would that really be so bad?

 Williamson approached, then, and though his vision was hazy he could make out the glowing of something in his hands and something snapped, nonononono oh god not again, he screamed and thrashed but they held his leg perfectly still, he couldn’t hear he couldn’t see oh god not again but there was nothing he could do as Williamson brought the blade down and began to saw just below his knee, mouth moving in a way that looked almost like he was whistling, and painpainpain he went limp, swallowing convulsively to keep from vomiting and choking and dying but almost wanted to because makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop but he refused to give them the satisfaction and then they were pulling his lower leg away and carrying it upstairs, leaving him to slump down in the chair and stare at the cauterized stumps that remained of his legs.

  ‘Oh my god.’

 He was never going to run again.

 He was never going to ride a horse again.

 He was never going to fucking walk again.

 They’d ruined him.

 They’d made him useless.

  ‘Uselessuselessuseless.’

PAIN.

 He arched with a scream, jerked and tried to reach up, to grab the brand that was crawling across his upper shoulders in some sort of pattern and oh god it hurts make it STOP but the bindings stopped them abruptly, tore at his skin, shredded it until blood splattered to the ground and he sobbed, slumping over with a pitiful moan ‘letmedieletmedieletmedie’ and Williamson finished branding in 

  DER LINDE

 looking to Matthews for approval, the man nodding and turning, saying something to the three Micah didn’t catch, his heart thudding too loud in his ears ‘killmekillmeKILLME’ and they vanished up the stairs and then he was blacking out—

How long he was out, he didn’t know. Long enough that the pain had dulled some, and that his wrists stopped bleeding.

 He kept his eyes closed, listened out. There was no breathing other than his, no muttering voices or even the crackle of the fireplace. So he dared to open them, found himself alone again, the fire down to ash, the cellar beginning to grow cold and he found himself shivering, it must have been the middle of the night he was sure, he was going to lose his fingers and his toes to the cold but oh god he’d already lost his toes hadn’t he? His toes and his feet and his lower legs oh god oh god oh god don’t focus on that now Micah he needed to get out.

 So, again, he began to saw at the ropes, vision going white as the rope dug into his flesh, as he worked to undo it, to loosen the rope until it would come undone. How long it took, he couldn’t say, long enough that it began to grow warmer, that he began to grow dizzy from the blood that bubbled from around the rope, that poured to the ground and pooled around his feet, but finally one of the ropes came loose enough that, with a jerk up, he was able to send it tumbling to the ground, reaching over and clawing at the other with numb, cold fingers until it came undone and joined the other, lurching forward and collapsing to the floor with a muffled scream of agony.

 Oh god, his ribs.

 Oh god, his face.

 Oh god, his stumps.

 Make it stop.

 Micah blacked out.

He didn’t know how long he was out, but he woke up shivering, shaking and shuddering, his face tacky with tears. The pain had dulled to a weak throbbing, and ‘Fuck make it stop please god’ how long had he been unconscious what if they were coming? Fuck if they found him free of his bindings he didn’t want to know what they’d do, he didn’t have any more legs for them to cut off oh god his legs he retched and turned his head and emptied his stomach on the ground, nothing more than bile how long had it been since he’d eaten?

 God, he needed to move. So he began to drag himself forward, digging his fingers into the dirt, groaning through clenched teeth as the shredded skin on the end of his fingers was torn back open on the rough ground, each pull taking more of his strength than he thought he had, he had to reach down and seek it, his shoulders screamed and he groaned pitifully as the dirt tore at his bared stomach, as more and more of the skin on his fingertips was shredded and ripped away.

 And then he was at the bottom of the stairs, and he thought dying might be worth it. Because hauling himself up the stairs was going to be agony, was going to take more energy, more strength, than he thought he had, but he’d already gotten this far and he was a survivor, dammit! so he reached up and grabbed the highest step he could reach, biting his tongue against a scream as the uneven steps gouged his stomach, collapsing when he could go no further and curling on himself, having cut his stumps, slamming a fist against the steps before making himself continue.

 Up, and up, and up. It could have been hours, or it could have been minutes, though it felt like the former. He left streaks of blood behind him, didn’t dare to look though he knew it must look like a murder scene, a carcass being dragged, could feel himself growing horribly woozy.

 Micah slumped when his head brushed against the door of the cellar, gasping and taking a moment to catch his breath and—

 —naturally, the cellar door flew up and open, and he had a moment to see a look of almost comical surprise on Morgan, Smith, and Matthews’ faces, before Morgan’s foot swung back and flicked forward, and his face exploded with pain (there went his nose again) and his head snapped back, his torso lifted off the ground, then his hips and stumps followed, and he was tumbling down the stairs with a howl of pain, vision going white as he struck the last stair skull first, laying still as he struggled to gather his wits about him, able only to moan weakly as Smith and Morgan gripped his arms and dragged him to the chair, throwing him into it and binding his torso below his armpits and at his hips, then stretching his arms out on the armrests and binding his wrists tightly.

He couldn’t make out what they were saying - his mind was still buzzing, the world spinning around him. He couldn’t think, couldn’t hear, couldn’t see. Could only just feel as Morgan swung his foot and slammed it into one of his stumps, couldn’t even react other than to blink dully - a concussion, surely?

 His shooting arm was pulled out straight, and Morgan shook his head, “Shouldn’t’a done that Micah,” as Williamson began to saw through his arm just passed his elbow, Micah trying to focus on anything else (I’llneverbeabletoshootagainI’muselessI’muselessI’museless) and realizing that Matthews was nowhere to be seen as his forearm and hand hit the ground, taken upstairs by Morgan who, after the pair had cleaned up and wrapped the cauterized wound, was followed by Williamson and Smith.

He waited as long as he dared - other members of the gang visited him, mauled him. Took out their frustrations on him, fed him only as much as he needed. By Morgan’s fourth visit he was determined to escape and, so, he counted out a thousand seven times before working himself free.

 He dragged himself two paces, sun shone into the cellar, and he went limp as Smith sighed, tromping down the stairs and digging his fingers into his hair, dragging him by it into the chair, deaf to his hollering and shouting of pain - his stumps and other wounds had long gone numb - flinging him into it and binding him loosely before vanishing up the stairs.

 It didn’t surprise Micah when they stretched out his final arm, bound him tightly, and sawed it off.

Slowly, they stopped coming.

 MacGuire was the first. Grew bored with prodding at his wounds, tugging to worsen them and prevent their healing, of cracking jokes about how his teeth were 'worse than mine now, huh?’

 Then Escuella, the man losing the perverse pleasure he seemed to take in dragging his knife along his skin, drawing the faintest of lines into him before, seemingly without prompting, digging it into him until he screamed, then pulling it out and doodling again. He’d grown bored with it, towards the end, losing the vigor with which he’d done it before no longer showing up at all.

 The ladies had lasted the longest. Would come down and take out their frustrations, beat on him with a club or their fists and shout and holler and scream as though he were a tree, nonsense he had no interest in but was forced to bear, forced to listen about how ‘Bill is such a pig!’ whack! how ‘John needs to act like a goddamn father!’ crunch! about how ‘You men can do some of your own damn laundry!’ (Jackson had broken his nose, then)

 And then no one had showed up to feed him one feeding.

 Then two.

 Then three, and he’d realized he was fucked.

 He’d nearly broken his neck trying to twist so he could get to the rope around his neck, had shredded his gums 'til he choked on the blood trying to chew through his gag, but finally all he could do was slump against it, shouting and pleading against the rag in his mouth, but no one ever came.

“Sir,” Milton woke up, some weeks later, to a young Pinkerton agent knocking on his door, so pale he nearly offered him a chair for fear of him collapsing, “I think you need to see this.”

 He led him out the door, swaying on his feet as he kept a large distance from a massive box which, even from where Milton stood, he could make out his name scrawled on it. The man drew his gun, approaching warily, and jumped back after opening in some parts alarm and wariness—

 a tanned hide of a sort he’d never seen before sat inside, folded on itself as it hadn’t enough room to be fully stretched out, RAT branded meticulously atop the torso. A collection of limbs - half-limbs, a foot there, a half a leg there, half an arm here, a handless arm there - was piled beneath it and, to his horror, a tanned head was stitched to the hide, face twisted in agony, something rolled and sticking out of the mouth, a familiar white hat sat atop straw-like blond hair.

 He neared, fighting down bile, aiming his gun at the ratsnake that had been coiled around his hat before realizing it long dead, carefully tugging the papers - no, photographs? - out of the man’s mouth and nearly taking the head with it, straining the stitching—

  Him, handing over a clip of money to Bell

  Van Der Linde’s bounty poster, next to Bell’s coat

  His wife, brushing her horse

  Edgar’s family, sitting at the riverside

 Milton roared, grabbing the hide’s head and chucking it as far as it would go, the hide unfolding and flying along like some macabre kite, half-rotted limbs scattering every which way.

[sweetcinnamonrolls]

The Lost Sibling Part 1

Malik was organizing his merchandise when he heard the store door open. He stands up and sees brick carrying his produce order.

Malik: Hey brick.

Brick: "blushes" Hey malik.

Malik: Thank you for delivering my order. Set it to the side, I'll put it away.

Brick set the milk down and swam out to get the rest. As malik starts putting things away bubba Jay and rosebud come in carrying the fruit.

Bubba J: We have some of the fruit you ordered.

Malik: Thank you, sir. Set it down please.

Bubba jay set the fruit down.

Rosebud: You have a very lovely store~🙂

Malik stands up

Malik: Thank you ma'-?!! Uuuuuuuhhhhhh....

Malik thought he was seeing things.

Malik: "in mind: Is that...QUEEN SAPPHIRE?! ....no it can't be...but she looks just like her...no...my head's just messing with me."

Rosebud: Umm...sir you ok?

Malik: Huh?...Oh! Uh...yeah I'm good. Umm... thank you for delivering my order.

Rosebud: No prob, bob.

Malik:y name is malik.

Rosebud: No I was just...aw forget it. We'll unload the rest and once we're done we'll help you put them up, ok?

Malik: Uh...ok..t-thank you.

Rosebud: Our pleasure.

They left leaving malik shell shocked and confused.

Malik: I...think I'm gonna sit down. "Swims away"

Bubba jay picked up more fruit.

Rosebud: That guy looked at me weird. I'm starting to think the people here are being judgy.

Bubba Jay: Naw I'm sure they're just jealous of your beauty. They probably never seen a girl like you.

Rosebud: Aw you're just saying that. Actually they reacted like they couldn't believe their own eyes when they saw me.

Bubba J: Well there ya go. That proves you're the prettiest girl they ever done seen.

Rosebud: Thanks bubba. 😊

Bubba J: Anything for my baby sister.

(Wow poor malik had a big surprise) ( wonder how our favorite brothers are going to react to this?)

Sharktrolls belong to @sparklijam

Rosebud, BJ, and brick belong to @dolphinstrolls-au

[custardcove]

The Spooktober Party - Pt. 2

Here’s part two, everyone! It’s a day later than I intended to post it, but that’s okay with me, and I hope it’s okay with you too. Enjoy!

[Link to Part 1]

—

“Alright.” Pansy takes a deep breath, apprehensive. She’s returned to reconvene with the rest of the group. “I’m ready.”

“Great!” Alice gives her a small smile before looking expectantly at Leto, who raises an arm. Only one other person had since joined to go on the Haunting House Tour, and that was Neo. Pansy says hello on noticing her presence, but the rabbit-eared individual only nods her head in acknowledgement. She’s wearing a rather simplistic black dress, jacket, and hat, so Pansy isn’t sure if Neo is costumed as anything in particular.

“I think we’re the first few people who’re actually interested in going on the tour, so there aren’t many of us,” Alice observes after a moment of silence. “Either that or…you’re allowed to just wander in, but I think I’d prefer a guide…”

Leto makes a full body bobbing motion, as if she’s trying to nod.

“Alright,” Pansy repeats. “Let’s get it over with then, ay? Lead the way.”

 As the tour begins, the small group are led down one of the side corridors of the house. Unlike the orange glow of the entrance, main area and even garden, the hallway is dim and unlit. The chatter and hubbub of the party slowly dies away as they progress deeper into the house. The only remaining sound is the faint tinkling of a grand piano.

Eventually, Leto slows down to a plod and gestures toward some of the paintings on the wall. They line the entirety of the current hallway the group is in, and they’re all portraits. One of the largest is very obviously of Queenie.

“Oh, I know what these are,” Alice gasps suddenly. “These are some of Queenie’s family portraits. Or—I guess they’re reproductions? I’m told her father’s mansion has a much larger wall dedicated to these. It goes back years of family generations—although this one looks like it’s only got pictures of her father, her grandma, herself, and… well, um, maybe some cousins, I’m not one-hundred-percent sure.”

“I didn’t realise you were the one giving the tour, Custard.” Neo remarks.

“Sorry.”

“Naw, you’re good,” Pansy insists, bumping her shoulder. “Kinda hard to see ‘em in this light, though… feels like they’re lookin’ down at me. But it’s a photo-wall for rich people, yeah?”

“Pretty much.”

The tour proceeds, and Leto eventually stops at a door. Swinging it open, she gestures for the group to go inside. The sound of piano can be clearly be heard from within—this was the source. Though skilfully played, it isn’t a pleasant tune, rather a foreboding melody. Pansy is the first to step through. Moments after taking in her surroundings, she freezes.

“Th—the piano, it’s…” She points to it. Alice and Neo follow the direction of her gaze, but don’t appear to be nearly as surprised.

“Playing itself, yeah.” Neo nods. Much to Pansy’s horror, she walks closer to get a better look.

“How’re you so calm about this?” She looks across at Neo, then Alice, and even Leto, until Alice comes to gently pat her on the shoulder.

“It’s a pretty old trick—there must be a mechanism on the inside,” she says. “Don’t worry, it’s not really haunted. But it looks spooky, right?”

“Oh.” Pansy looks away, scratching at her cat-ear headband. “I feel awful silly now.”

A jarring clang is emitted from the piano, making everyone jump. The noise reverberates throughout the music room. Several keys have been pressed at once. The tour group stares at the lone piano in stunned silence.

When the sound finally fades away, Neo tips her hat and says, “…probably means we should move on with the tour.”

 Leto leads them to a series of other nearby rooms, and the horrors within are thankfully about as manageable as the piano beforehand. Though the atmosphere still creeps her out, Pansy starts to enjoy herself as many of the ‘ghostly’ antics can be explained away with logic. They’re still quite convincing, but that’s what makes it fun. The laughing skeleton, suspended furniture and foggy, mysterious reflections in the mirror aren’t real—just tricks.

The group are now within earshot of the partygoers’ chatter again, and it looks like the tour is coming to an end.

“I had a lot more fun than I thought,” Pansy admits. “Wasn’t sure what I was expecting at first.”

“It was pretty good,” Neo agrees, a small smile gracing her normally deadpan expression. Alice nods, sharing the same sentiment. Everyone had a great time.

Now that they were nearing the end of the hallway, Leto turns around, giving the costume arm a wiggle to indicate that the Haunting House Tour is over.

“Thanks for showing us around, Leto.” Pansy beams.

Leto shyly puts a fabric paw to her mouth and then moves to bow—which is when everything goes from warm and fuzzy to cold and chilling. As the mascot costume bends forward, its oversized, cartoony wolf head rolls clean off.

The costume is hollow on the inside. No wearer, no mechanism, just an empty shell.

Pansy and Alice shriek in unison, scrambling to exit the corridor and find safety in the crowd. Neo bends down, picking up the costume’s head and handing it back to Leto.

“You dropped this.”

[simplysoriya]

The Eternal Serpent

{Chapters; Prologue, 1, 2, 3, Interlude, 4, 5, (Best read with:) 6 & 7}

Chapter 8: The Captain

The egg was large and rounded resembling something that belonged in a Cloud Serpent clutch, but, unlike a normal egg one would find among the windy hills of eastern Pandaria, this one was different. Brilliant jade colored scales flanked the oval with a regal white shimmer faintly seeping from between the gaps. The outer shell was hard to the touch, and yet still delicate as if it would crack if squeezed too hard. Despite it’s size the warm vibration that undeniably emanated from within, at it’s core, there was the spark of greatness within the slumbering hibernation. Small, unawoken, and meek in its current form- but the spark was still there. Faintly. It was the last remaining tie to Fe’lon, the Eternal Serpent of the sunken temple beneath the vast waves. What he had left behind in his exit from this world.

Soriya held it snugly against her stomach as her arms lolled down, lazily, encircling the bottom of the egg. Her forearms acting as a guardrail for the oval, clutching delicately as she angled it inward against herself. Youthful teal eyes reinvigorated by the sight, dipping down to steal glances of her prize. Producing a different reaction each and every time; sometimes it was a triumphant little giggle, other times a proud smirk sneakily curled at the corners of her lips, every now and again she would give the soft egg a small embrace. Her mind was alight with all sorts of ideas on just what this tiny, jade encrusted oval could be. She pondered if this would be some sort of reincarnation of legend, or if it would be a child of the Eternal Serpent. What it meant that it was left behind, even after her wish, when the Serpent dissolved from it’s temple that had turned into a tomb. Was this to be the twist to her wish? That freedom meant a new life beyond these walls engulfed by the raging open sea- Or maybe, quite simply, it was just a memento left behind.

Tiredness from overexertion, and complaints from a battered body, seemingly melted away as she made her way back through the grand hallway with an extra flutter in her step. The hallway had seemed smaller before but she couldn’t, nor cared to, place why. The pirates she had hitched a ride from had never come for her, but no thought was given as to a reason why. Instead Soriya focused almost to a fault on the good. A trait she often prided herself in. 

As she traversed through the dimly lit hallways, arriving back to the second antechamber which housed the trial of will with its single red bridge situated in front of the well of now still water. The waterfalls that flanked the walls had run dry, with nothing but dark spots where the moisture had once flowed. 

Hesitantly she stepped forward onto the bridge. Tensing and tightening. But most importantly protecting the egg as she awaited the gust of wind that accompanied the trial. The same gust that would inevitably toss her to the other side of the chamber, still fresh in her mind from the harrowing collection of tries from less then an hour prior. A breath was sucked in quickly as she awaited the inevitable. Yet she stood, even as the pressure plate clicked after depressing. The egg clutched both loose and tight. No billowing wind came, however. 

That breath was finally pushed out from the bottom of her lungs. Relieved that she seemingly didn’t have to relive the trial that had given her so much trouble. 

Cautious steps were taken as she quickly proceeded forward. The dueling thoughts of the trap suddenly springing and a desire to clear the harder part of the trial fueled the long strides that safely carried her across the bridge and to the plateau across the way. 

Looking over her shoulder a fleeting glance was stolen as she took one final moment to awe at the ornate antechamber behind her. Realizing that it would be quite some time before anyone ever graced these halls again.

“Ya’ ain’ worried ‘bout tha’ stowaway?” A voice echoed from just beyond, above, bouncing from the circular stone staircase. Instantly snatching Soriya’s attention and causing her to jump slightly at the sound. 

Another person within these walls wasn’t even a thought that crossed her mind ever since she braved the final chamber. Her gaze quickly flicked toward the stairwell as fear began to creep up around her. Shrinking her away from the opposition she was about to collide with a sense of unease that always accompanied the uncertain.

“Naw.” A second, gruffer, more burly voice responded, “They saved us making a spectacle of it. If we had found them the men would have hooted and hollered until we threw them overboard anyways. I just want to get this over with...” Coming in clearer as they progressed down the stairwell.

“I s’ppose.” Said the first man in concession. “But capt’n… ya’ ain’ the least bit worried they may ah found this place? Gits’ been missin’ for days now… ‘member he was sayin’ abou’ tha’ pair in Uldum?”

They were talking about her, of course. She knew it. The benefit of eavesdropping, Soriya silently pondered. Unless there was another stowaway on their ship that she was unaware of, one who had made more commotion then she had on her exit. But even she declined to even hope for that outcome for an all-too-quick moment.

Swiftly she hid herself on the far side of the alcove. Pressing her back to the stone wall right before the archway. Carefully and quietly she placed the egg between her legs and rested it up against the wall behind her.

“If that’s the case then we’ll deal with them here.” The clear leader of the pair started with some sense of finality as both voices began to talk in a strained whisper.

She dipped her head down to glance at the egg to make sure it was still secure, but her gaze, along with a realization, drifted to the makeshift bandage that tightly affixed to her shin. Gifted by the spears the two pirates were headed straight for.

Shit…  Soriya thought to herself as her mind drifted to the unsuspected, if unsavory, two that would be skewered by the awkwardly placed temple trap. 

“Shit.” She repeated aloud in a whispered out, but sharp, squeak. The overwhelming feeling of guilt rocked her. She had to say something, she had to warn them, to prevent the unnecessary loss of life… even if it ran counter productive to her own survival.

“Wait!” Soriya finally shouted as her conscious got the better of her.  Ripping herself from her clinging perch against the alcove. But she was a second too late... 

Three spears erupted from their hiding place in the wall as the pair of pirates. Catching the smaller, skinnier man by surprise, and impaling him to the wall to the side as all three blades found their mark. Ending him without as much as a scream.

“Andy!” The second pirate, a Kul Tiran, shouted. Curling up in a kneel beside his fallen companion, who was stuck skewed on the bottom spear that now refused to close.

The Captain was tall, burly, and aged. Filling out every bit of the worn and wavered sailing coat that bore the shredded insignia and faded colors of the Proudmoore admiralty, looking just as weathered as his weary and wrinkled face. Gray hairs had spread from the top of his head and down to his beard, woven between the dull brown it once was. 

“I didn’t… I…” Soriya stammered as the weight of the mans life fell squarely on her shoulders. If she had just been a moment quicker, if she had just pushed fear aside and done the right thing. A sense of guilt gripped her senses as she froze up before the sight.

A murderous gaze set on the monk before him as he stood to his full height, brandishing the saber that was sheathed at his side and waving it threateningly at the Sin’dorei. That desperate stammer falling on deaf ears as the Captain carefully advanced over the pressure plate.

“I don’t want to fight!” She pleaded. “Listen!- “ But the pirate didn’t heed her words. Instead sending his cutlass toward the monk in a horizontal slash that aimed to cut her clear in two. Only narrowly avoided by a quick squat downward as the saber passed overhead and far too close for comfort.In the hasty dodge Soriya lost her footing as she teetered back, fighting against the slip, until she eventually fell onto her rear. Palms catching against the cold stone floor behind her. She didn’t even have time to think as her legs instinctively sprawled out to either side as a metallic clang bounced from the walls around them. She looked up to find the saber had found ground between her knees.

Pawing by the handful she scurried her way backward to keep herself out of range of another attack. “There’s nothing here anymore. I already found the serpent. It’s gone!” She barked, hoping that he would listen to reason.

The Captain, however, had no intentions of talking her as he let out a bloodcurdling shout in response. Talk of the Serpent they both competed to find only infuriating him further. As his opponent scurried further, he spat a frustrated curse under his breath, reaching toward the holster at his side to cope with the distance.

Ocean colored eyes went wide as she watched him reach for a pistol. With little time to waste, the monk pushed herself up as he pointed the flintlocke at her. Planting her leading foot he cocked the hammer back, but before he could fire a foot collided with his hand, pushing it to the side as the gun went off, away from its target, with a loud bang that echoed against the ancient walls.

As her kick rounded out, and that foot found ground, it quickly planted to allow the former leading foot into a second kick driven straight toward the captains chest.The burly Kul Tiran staggered backward as the second kick collided on target with his center mass. Taking a step back, then a second, until the sound of a mechanical click echoed once more to widen both fighters eyes.

It was as if it happened in slow motion. As if there were a couple of second in between hearing that gut retching noise and the spears that fatefully shot from the wall with deadly intent.

The captain stumbled once more as his face went pale, tripping over the body of his fallen sailor causing him to tumble back as those spear bared down on him. It was luck that caused the topmost trap to miss his head entirely as he fell backward. His chest, however, wasn’t as lucky as the bladed tip of the spear slashed,  rending deep into the top of his stomach- spilling his crimson life force onto the floor below.

Soriya sat stunned. Her fighting stance instantly dropped to a droop. A hand came to cover her mouth as she watched the captain cling to the grievous wound in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. She was no stranger to battlefield wounds. She knew full well that he wouldn’t be able to stem the bleeding as he barely held his innards from spilling out. Guilt over the other man who lay dead and lifeless in that same hallway still hung heavily on her. She couldn’t save him, but maybe, just maybe she could save this one.

Once the shock wore off Soriya sprung to action. Grasping onto the captains boot before pulling him clear of the spears and into the safer antechamber where she could take a better look at him.

Teal eyes squinted and winced in sympathy as she looked at the slash that ran between the sailors chest and stomach. It was deep by the inch nor was it easy to tell how clean the cut had been with the copious amount of blood dripping from it and clinging to the sundered skin as it ran unchecked.

A fleeting glance was stolen from over her shoulder as she looked at the antechamber once more. It was looking her in the face this whole time; A source of water which she could manipulate. 

Once more she scurried to the captains feet, gripping him by the ankles and pulling him toward the chamber despite the groans of pain that billowed out of him as she did.

“I’m sorry I took this away from you….” her apology was conceded softly, even if he was too incoherent to pay her much mind. “But… if I can save your life I think that makes us even.”

She knelt down as her left hand hovered above his profusely bleeding slash as her right hand reached out toward the water source. Concentration and clarity washed across her face and lingered as she exhaled a breath slowly and shut her eyes. Expelling the air in her lungs until there was nothing left, only to inhale deep enough to feel them fill within her chest.

Moisture began to dribble toward the monk from the room with the red bridge. Beading along the railing, the floor, the pool below it, gathered toward that outstretched hand that coaxed it forth. Small dribbles encircled her hand and arm, trailing across them toward her center. Using her own body as a medium to create life giving mists, those droplets gained a jade tinge as they coalesced around her chest, only to continue along its path to her other arm and eventually the sailor himself. Struggle began to overtake the young monk as she fought fiercely against it. It took every bit of her energy to create such a powerful technique- one that melded her own life force with the healing jade mists. Despite it, however, she continued at her own expense.

The mess of deep red that ran in a line along the sailor began to tug at itself from the corners. Slowly but steadily stitching itself back together as the bleeding began to stem and coagulate as the mists infused themselves and imposed their will against the open wound.

Soriya kept it up as long as she could. Until her hands began to shake and her breath became labored. Beads of sweat littered her forehead, as the first that formed began to roll down to her brow and cheeks. But she refused to quit, right up until she collapsed atop the very person she was healing.

Waves gently lapped against the side of the ship as the Kul Tiran hauled himself and Soriya up the rope ladder. Hastening his handfuls as a commotion unfolded above them.

“What do you mean you haven’t seen anyone?” Barked an angered voice from above deck.

“I’m tellin’ ya the truth! I swear! Please, just stop hitting me!”

“I swear to some dark and scary god that I will kill everyone on this ship. You mean to tell me that -this- ship, the very one I tracked, and fell off of, isn’t the ship I watched my daughter sail away on? So let me get this straight. You want me to believe what I saw with my own two eyes?” 

There was a pause, as if an answer was going to be given, only to devolve into a pained ‘Oww…’

The Kul Tiran captain put his palms on the deck before lifting himself and the unconscious Sin’dorei, hoisted over his shoulder, to the scene above. “What in the blazes is going on up here?”

“Whom the fuck--” Kirollis turned around before stopping right in his tracks. “Soriya?! (What the fuck?!) What the fuck did you do to my daughter?!” The rogue screamed as he stomped his way forward with the pistol in his hand swiftly finding sights on the captain.

Daughter… the title gave the captain pause. 

“Listen… I didn’t… I didn’t do anything to her. She knocked herself out saving my life…” The Kul Tiran countered coolly, despite the firearm now in his face. Slow and with televised movements he crouched down to gently lay the monk on the deck. “She’s still breathing. You can check.”

Kirollis made a face of contempt as he gestured his gun to the side. The captain, without missing a beat, replied by sidestepping a few paces away. It wasn’t until he was clear that the over protective father checked that very fact as two fingers found their way to Soriyas pulse only to find a settling bit of relief.

“I told you; She saved my life. I mean her no ill will.” The Kul Tiran said solemnly. “Even with,” gesturing out to nothing in particular as he cited the situation, “... all this. Ya have my word. I’ll even ferry ya both back to port.”

Kirollis glanced over to the captain with aggravation still fresh on his weathered face. “Don’t think you have much of a choice.” he replied coldly.

“Aye.” he replied as he glanced around the ship. Most of his crew tethered to a railing or a mast with no small amount of bruising. “But I’m offering.”

A weak, “Dad?” Interrupted their exchange.

Kirollis’ gaze jumped to his daughter as she spoke, “Soriya?! Sori- Hey…” He said with a smile that hid none of the fear that had plagued his face for the past few days. 

Her face squeezed inward and eyes clenched shut as the sun blared down right into her fresh field of view. “Never thought I’d be upset to see the sun…” She joked. “Did we do it? Did we find the temple?”

“-You- did, lass.” The Kul Tiran interjected. Reaching into his bag he soon pulled out that radiant jade egg before adding, “I believe this is yours as well.” Holding it out for either of them to take, the captain once again offered the proverbial olive branch. “And lass... saving my life back there makes us more then even.”

[minimus-ambus]

PLEASE link me to ur cowboy minimegs fic

haha yeah I guess I forgot about that, I’ll post it here rn

The air was cool today.

It was a refreshing change from the hot, muggy weather that had plagued the plains where Minimus and Megatron had set up camp. Soft rain pattered down through the trees that hid their tents. Minimus looked up at the cloudy grey skies and sighed happily, some of the tension held in his shoulders slowly being released as he breathed in the chilled air.

Megatron, meanwhile, looked downright miserable. He had his heaviest coat on, his head half-sunk into the fur collar and a scowl on his face. Their fire was weak, but he still sat close to it, trying to warm his hands.

"I take it you don't like the weather?"

Megatron looked up to see Minimus smiling down at him. His cheeks colored – Minimus rarely ever smiled, so to see a bright grin from him was like- like finding gold in a dry riverbed. It felt... special.

"Ah- no, not particularly. It ain't my kinda day, that's all. Too cold for me." Megatron pulled the brim of his hat down to hide his blush. He was surprised when Minimus crouched down, clapping a hand on his shoulder. His thumb rested against the skin inside of Megatron's unbuttoned shirt collar – he held his breath at the hint of contact.

“Too cold to go huntin’?”

Minimus really was in a good mood, it seemed. He always covered up his southern drawl with a “civilized” city way of speaking, but it leaked through from time to time. It was endearing.

Megatron intently studied a pill bug crawling along next to his boot. “Naw, I ain’t a very good shot, anyway. You’re better at that than me.”

Minimus’s thumb burned against him – he hadn’t taken it away, and unfortunately it was putting some choice thoughts into Megatron’s head.

“Well...” Minimus glanced to the side, eyes half-lidded. “I could always teach’ya.”

The idea of Minimus teaching him how to use a bow and arrow sent a shiver down Megatron’s spine. Minimus, laying his hands over Megatron’s in order to guide him right. Minimus, his warm side pressing close to Megatron’s as he points out a grazing deer on the far side of the meadow. Minimus’s lips grazing the shell of his ear, breathing soft against his skin until he whispers, ”Fire.”-

Megatron shot up on his feet, startling Minimus. “‘Fraid I can’t, Minimus. I- well- Shoot, I’d probably catch a cold sooner than any animal. I’ll just... I’ll take a nap in my tent instead.”

With that, he strode over to his tent and opened the flap, but paused to look over his shoulder. Minimus was staring into the fire, face full of disappointment – something that nearly knocked Megatron over with the shock of it. He stood there, frozen, halfway into his tent.

Then, he straightened up and cleared his throat. Minimus looked up at him.

“I...” Megatron took a moment to gather his courage. “It can be awful cold, just sleepin’ all by my lonesome, though.”

Minimus stared at him with wide eyes. Suddenly, the air between them felt heated, thick and untouchable as the desert sun. After a long moment, Minimus spoke in a dry voice. “Oh.”

Megatron’s cheeks turned a bright red. “Ah- I’m sorry, I didn’t- I’m just being a fool, I didn’t mean to-“

“I could help.”

Now, it was Megatron’s turn to gawk. Minimus was blushing, his eyes locked with Megatron’s in a warm but embarrassed gaze. A thrill ran up Megatron’s spine, and he swallowed. “....well. Alright.”

As the sun set, the plains grew colder, a fog sweeping down over the hills. The horses stood close together where they were tied, pressing their haunches together to share their heat. They both ignored the quiet sounds and stifled moans from their owners‘ tent – and focused on staying nice and warm through the long night.

[colourmeastonished]

This is a long, true story about street harassment.

(Edit: I couldn't figure out how to add a read more link on mobile, sorry!)

This happened less than an hour ago and I'm still teary and shaking.

There's these two old men who I've encountered at the bus stop coming home from work before and last time I just stared pointedly at my phone as they loudly talked about me, my being glued to my phone, and joking about how they shouldn't harass the 'pretty girl'. I didn't engage and I just sat on the bus as far away from them as I could when it came. Luckily they got off before my stop so I didn't have to walk near them again.

Tonight I was waiting at the stop along with two other girls who seemed to be a few years younger than me and who were chatting between themselves, and I was on my phone checking flat listings when I heaed the voices of drunken men come booming down the street. I didn't immediately clock them, but when they got closer they walked really close by me and I kinda shrank back, assuming they'd just keep walking past the stop. But one of them leaned in really close to me and said really loudly 'can ye beam me up wi that' right in my face.

[[/MORE]]

So I was like, 'pardon?' and he repeated himself, so I just kinda glared at him and said, 'naw, now leave me alone' and walked over to stand away from them

Now that would have been that, but then they started laughing to each other and mutterin hings under their breath and lookin pointedly at me, and when I glared at em the one that got up in my face looked me dead in the eye and said, 'bitch'. So I told him to fuck off, obviously. And went back to my phone.

But then these guys start bothering the other girls sayin 'do ye know that girl' trying to drag them into it, so I was like, 'oi, they don't want tae talk to yous either, leave em alone'. And it kind of worked because it drew their attention away from these girls, who looked a little shell-shocked. English wasn't their first language so getting harranged by arsewipes wi broad scottish accents seemed to be extra intimidating to them so I was like, gotta protect these girls from these fuckers cos I may be used to drunken scottish men yelling hings at me across the street but these girls definitely weren't.

So it worked, and they turned their attention back to me. And they were jeerin and mutterin again so I figured in for a penny, and I was like 'don't yous know it's just plain rude to try an talk to strange girls late at night' but at this point I'm clearly pissed off and my bravado has taken over, and these arsewipes are all 'do many people talk tae you?? I bet no many people talk tae you cos you're a bitch'

And I'm soldiering on being all, 'it's fucking creepy when yous approach strange girls late at night and get aw up in our faces, like just leave us alone' and they're all, 'you shut up, leave us alone' and am like, 'yous started it gettin aw up in ma face, like honestly that gied me the absolute fear when you did that, that shit is scary'

And they keep trying to engage they other girls by sayin 'do yous hear this?' and one of them is like 'well we agree with her' and they seem like they're gonna start laying into her, so a keep trying to draw their attention back until the bus comes, and they're goin aff on wan bein aw 'have you got mental problems honey, a bet you've got mental problems' and for some unfathomable reason wan o them is like 'you've got a boyfriend a can tell, a can see it in yer mind' and am like, 'what's that got tae do wi anything??' and they keep on like 'ye've goat mental problems hen'

And at this point the other girls have moved sose that they're on the other side of me with me between them and the men which am glad for cos I'd rather get the brunt of it than these girls cos am the one who aggravated them. They just kept yellin so a even threatened tae call the police but tbh I doubt they'd do anythin and it'd just have made the situation mair stressful.

Eventually the bus comes and they get on first and I honestly almost didn't get on even though it was the last bus and my aching joints couldn't handle the hour walk back. But they got on and I got on behind them, and one of the girls got on behind me, the other one heading in a different direction. And one of the men buys his ticket and sits down wiout fuss, but the second one says to the driver 'driver watch out for this girl behind me she's got mental problems she's been attackin us'.

So I butt in all, 'don't listen tae him they've been harrassin us and gettin all up in ma face an scarin me' an the driver seems to see it from ma point of view. So a walk past em onto the bus and flip em the bird and they laugh at me. The girl sits towards the back o the bus too a few seats down fae me and it seems like the men are done bein bothersome. But a do keep hearin wan o them bein all 'she's mental' an 'she's a proper ice queen in't she'.

The louder wan went tae get off the bus and the driver to his credit responded to whatever the guy said to him with 'a heard ye were harassing they girls at the bus stop' but his heart didn't really seem to be in it and he kinda joked with the guy. Before he got off the guy was like 'goodnight hen' proper shoutin it doon the bus in a mockin tone o voice and I was like 'fuck off'. The other guy was quiet after that and got off no long after.

But I was not dealing with this situation well, and I started cryin a bit an shakin outa fear and stress like. And the other girl noticed and she came over and sat next to me and offered me a hug and told me I was brave. And she sat with me to the end of the journey and just chatted and reassured me and told me how she wished she was brave enough to say something and she agreed with everything I said to the men. And we swapped names and she told me that hers meant 'soft' and honestly I've never met anyone more aptly named. She was just such a beautiful and kind soul.

The second we parted ways I started sobbing again, like full on, hysterical, can't help it, ugly sobbing. In my head it's cathartic and powerful to stand up to harassers. In reality I got into a shouting match with a pair of drunken old men and ended up making them more aggressive.

There isn't a moral to this story. I just had to type it out. I guess if there's any take away it's that street harassment isn't necessarily always catcalling or even sexual in nature, it can be dirty old men who patronise and antagonise you into engaging with them sose that they can make fun of you for 'overreacting'. It's admitting that you're scared and angry and being told you've got 'mental problems'. It's men thinking your relationship status is relevant to an argument.

The moral of the story is that now I'm scared to take the only bus home from work. The moral of the story is that at least I distracted them from the other girls. The moral of the story is that if you say nothing and ignore them they'll do it again, and if you say something, they'll only get worse.

The moral of the story is that I'm terrified, and I'm not brave, I'm just impulsive, and it's probably going to get me killed.

[hello-imasalesman]

A Kieran/Arthur prompt for you! Kieran makes a firm demand of Arthur then gets nervous that maybe that was a misstep. Except nope, Arthur, though maybe surprised, does it with minor grumbling. So Kieran gets bolder, and it turns out Arthur might be into getting ordered around (and being a good boy and following orders right) and Kieran might be into it, too.

op i loved this prompt i didnt do it justice but i tried (nsft/lemon warning! its under a read more apologies if it doesnt show up on mobile )

It started very small, very simple. Kieran corrects Arthur’s command of his horse. Just a slight change in the way he held his reins, touching his wrists in a gentle motion to raise them higher. His fingers scraping against that small gap of skin, between his gloves and his shirt-cuffs. Arthur shoots him a glare and grumbles, dangerous, indignant: “O’Driscoll,” but he follows suit anyway. Because Kieran is good with horses, he reckons, so why wouldn’t Arthur take his recommendation?

But then, one time, Kieran’s hauling bales of hay, and he passes by Arthur. Asks if he minds giving him a hand. Arthur grumbles, but he does. And it escalates from there, achingly slowly, natural as moss creeping over a log, little favors, small requests, firm reminders. And it’s not that Kieran wants Arthur to do all his chores, far from that, because his requests almost immediately deviate from those kinds of things. And Kieran never thought himself the type, and, and, and—

And it starts with Kieran, a little drunk on hard liquor much too late at night around the scout campfire. Sitting knock-kneed on separate logs, asking Arthur to— telling Arthur to kiss him, hard. He does with no question, sucks the whiskey from his tongue—

“Stop.” Kieran says.

Arthur heels. Sits back with his hands in his lap, his palm surreptitiously pressing down on the front of his slacks, watching Kieran with shiny lips and dark eyes. Patiently waiting. Kieran feels his throat go dry. The span of distance between them, filled with Arthur’s breathing, the pop of nearby embers from the fire.

Arthur’s good at taking direction. From what Kieran can gather, he’s been doing so all his life. 

Just, never from someone like him.

Kieran Duffy, former O’Driscoll boot boy, whistling across the Clemen’s Point pasture. Like he’s calling a dog, except it’s Arthur, hat tilted down, making his way careful through the muck. Walking towards Kieran, following him back past the tree line, into the woods.

After a few paces, Kieran turns around. He doesn’t need to; Arthur’s following, of course, but some part of him likes to watch him come at his call. He walks right into an oak tree, back against the bark, and decides that’s a fine enough place to stop. “Mr. Morgan.”

“Mr. Duffy.” Arthur answers.

Back when he was an O’Driscoll boy, the Van der Lindes came up often enough. Arthur was a constant bogeyman, the stuff of nightmares. Slaughtering entire camps singlehandedly. When it was his hand who rolled him over from the face-down freeze of the snow, five-thousand dollar bounty, wanted in more states than not Arthur Morgan, Kieran surely thought he’d die by that hand, soon enough. Still believes he will, in a different way, though.

“C’mere,” Kieran’s voice warbles, still. “Knees. Get on your- your knees.” That’s what baffles him, too. That Arthur is the way he is— all corded muscle, death incarnate— and he takes orders from a nothing like himself, who can’t even keep his voice clear. Sinks to his knees, lets his hands slide down Kieran’s sides, fingers bunching in the fabric of his linen shirt. Arthur Morgan, who cut down every man in Sixpoint Cabin, unbuckling his belt, yanking it down his hips.

Kieran’s hard already, cock jutting forward, bobbing as his pants bunch up around his thighs. Arthur takes him in hand and— hesitates. Looking up searchingly as he fists his cock, those blue eyes shadowed under the brim of his hat.

Arthur swallows with a click; just the tip of his tongue comes out, the barest hint of pink, wetting his lips. Nervous, nervous, as he’s leaning in, brushing his lips against the head, smears precum slick and shiny over his bottom lip.

Kieran sucks in a breath, a buckle to his knees, where Arthur is so handsomely existing between. “Go on.” He reaches out, cradles his cheek. Knocks Arthur’s hat off as an afterthought, and his eyes shift, watching it fall to the lush softness of the forest floor. “You ain’t gotta be coy.”

Arthur’s breathing is audible, heavy and hot against Kieran’s skin. “Coy?” Kieran can feel the letters against his skin, the drag of his lips. His voice rumbles out lowly, the tip of his tongue catching a taste of Kieran’s skin. “That’s a new one. Been called a lot of strange things, recently. Pretty, coy…” Trailing off with a sigh that exhales hot against his skin, Arthur’s lips skate fleetingly down his shaft.

“You’d look awful pretty with—“ Kieran talks and he can see it, with each word, the way Arthur’s eyes get dark and wide, wishes he had the words to talk forever and watch Arthur’s face flash alive and vulnerable against him, “With your lips around me.”

Arthur groans and Kieran can feel that, too, feels it zip up his spine and rattle every single vertebrae on the way up; must rattle his skull, too, because he just about loses his senses when Arthur parts his lips and swallows down, groaning loud and pushing his hands into Arthur’s shaggy hair. 

Kieran’s arrested, watching himself disappear on that plush tongue. Arthur lays his palm flat against the hollow of Kieran’s stomach, head bobbing; he’s inexperienced and it shows in the mess he’s making, saliva pooling in his mouth and dripping from the corners of his lips. Slick and soft noises. Wet and hot and all encompassing. Arthur Morgan, arguably the third in command of the Van der Lindes, lips hugging around his cock—

It’s a wild thought. Vulgar. Kieran keens against his knuckles, bites hard until the pain of it pulls him back from the edge. Keeps his other hand buried in Arthur’s hair, flexing his fingers.

“Arthur—“ Praising, panting, “Jesus— s-so-so good—“

Arthur swallows, shudders, a shadow of gag against the back of his tongue, swallowing reflexive against Kieran thick in his mouth. Looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. He’s only able to make shallow movements, but makes up the rest of the distance with his fingers, stroking down where he can’t sink to. And his spit, dripping from his mouth slipping down his cock, sliding slick down his shaft, towards his balls. 

Filthy, filthy— the wet sounds of his lips, sucking, soft— Kieran’s hips jerk, and Arthur’s fingers flex warningly against his hipbones, pinning him back against the tree.

“So good,” Kieran croons, letting his fingers slide down to smooth over his pinched brow, “Arthur—“

He pulls off with a wet gasp. “Stop.”

Kieran’s fingers halt. “What?” His cock twitches in the warm Lemoyne air, breaking a thread of spit connecting him to Arthur’s swollen lips. He’s still holding him by the base, fingers loosely circled around, and it’s doing nothing but making him want to arch up into his touch.

“Th’ talkin’—“ His tongue is thick in his mouth, jaw popping, “S’not true. It’s distracting.”

Kieran’s smile’s lopsided. It’s startling how stern Arthur still manages to look, even glowering behind the shadow of his cock. But he’s not shaking him off, either, as Kieran idly runs his nails behind Arthur’s ear.

“What part ain’t true?”

The tips of Arthur’s ears go red as Kieran plays with them, runs his fingers over the shell.

“You’re one of the most handsome fellers I’ve ever met, Arthur,” He continues, voice low, watches Arthur school his face to something steady and closed. “Can’t help it, the things I’m saying. You try not to tell a man like this, doing— doing these sorts of things.”

“You could help it.” Arthur grumbles. Leaning in, like he’s forgotten he’s supposed to be mad, idly running his lips over Kieran’s aching erection. 

He puffs out a wry breath, tries not to let his nails bite too hard in the fragile skin under the curling hairs at the back of Arthur’s head. “I-I can stop.” Kieran offers. “But it won’t make it any less true.”

Arthur glares up at him, huffs hotly against his skin.

“You want me to stop?”

Arthur licks his lips. Mumbles, eyes falling downward: “Naw. Go on.” There’s no preamble; Arthur swallows him down, throat spasming; there’s a noise of suction as he pulls up, and wrings his fist downward with a twist. He repeats that motion, lips and fingers meeting halfway, again and again and again—

Kieran says it like a prayer, babbling uncontrollably, watches Arthur’s face go red: C’mon, you’re so good, w-wish you could see yourself like this, mouth around me like this. Keeps his hips still, from fear of really choking Arthur, but inches his leg forward, nudges the toe of his boot towards the front of Arthur’s work jeans and puts pressure down. He watches Arthur’s eyes flutter, nearly roll, and the resulting groan he makes when Kieran presses vibrates through him. Kieran chokes on air, doubles over Arthur with his hands buried in his hair and comes so hard he’s seeing stars.

Arthur swallows. When he pulls away, he’s gasping, coughing. Kieran leans over him, presses a sloppy kiss to his forehead, a cheekbone, his panting, parted lips. Tells him how good he is, how good he really is, and Arthur swallows the words down.