#did not capitalize on getting all the good old shit back in the day on account of being 13 and stupid though hdsklghfdlk

[keymintt]

i know there's not any longer-term achievements but getting this one made me chuckle. like shit dude time really does fly after being on this site for...a whole year........yeah. just a year... 365 days

[inkskinned]

oh you know it's all latestage capitalism but the thing is. how are you supposed to be a person inside of this. a person trying to be a better version of yourself.

oh, you started working young, which was kind of hard, but it's just the way stuff works sometimes. and it was 2008 and your family couldn't afford heat. but it's fine, you grow a spine and get used to the professional world and besides it was the suburbs we're talking about here, like, your life could have been actually hard, so what if your father lost his job and you can't afford to move or turn the lights back on. and once you start making money, it's good. you keep doing that. because now they're relying on you. so you have to do that.

oh you were in thousands of dollars of debt at 17 years old so that you could go to school, because you have to go to school if you want to get a "real" job. you even did it "right", you worked parttime and attended community college before you transferred to a public school. you were under so many merit scholarships.

which is fine. you pick yourself up and you say like, okay. i graduated college. i'm holding down a job. i'm doing the Adult Thing, which looks and acts like this, according to all the books i've read. you start with the shitty job and then you climb that corporate ladder.

but the shitty job doesn't cover rent and you stretch yourself too-thin so you get sick. good luck with that. the shitty job no longer pays for your meals. everyone asks why you don't just move, but there's nowhere to move to. and with what money are you going to be moving? and then the loans come back, because they were never going to forgive them, because you were 17 and trying to do the right thing, which was stupid. people are now saying you shouldn't have even gone to school.

which is fine. but because you have no other option, so you do the shitty job, and you apply every day for like 5 new ones, and despite the fact everyone says "there's no one who wants to work!" it's actually just that nobody is fucking hiring so you can either work for 13 dollars an hour in the shitty place you know (where at least you have a passingly friendly relationship with the manager) or you can start from scratch again with a different 13 dollars an hour without knowing how much abuse from the new job you'll be taking.

and if you quit you lose your insurance. if you quit you lose your housing. if you quit, you'll be another burnout kid. the lazy ones. these assholes, look at them!

and you come home to a family dinner and you hear from your father the same old thing. how he worked hard at his job and yes it sucked for a while but he was able to provide for the family and then the house and the dog and the rest of barbie's dream vacation. how the insurance did cover some of it. how you just really need to start speaking up more in manager conversations so they know you're a go-getter. you want to tell him - did you know we're actually doing more now hourly than any previous generation? - but you can't remember where you heard that statistic, and you're far too tired for the fucking argument. and then he starts in on his usual bit. where's the house? where's your kids? where's your ambition.

the same job the same money the same hours doesn't do it anymore. the same nose-to-the-grindstone now just shreds your face off. there's no such thing as upwards mobility, not really. and as far as you're aware, the money certainly is not trickling. you do the soulless stupid shit you signed up for because you fucking have to or else you literally risk your life (food, the apartment, the insurance), but it's not getting you anything. you download the stupid "save more" app and you budget and you do every right thing and then the price of eggs is 7 dollars and you say - oh great! another thing i have to fucking worry about now!

and you go to your stupid job and everyone in your father's generation just tells you to be better about being an adult. they have their homes and their savings account and their bailout and they say. well have you tried not drinking starbucks. well your generation just spends too much on clothing. well you might just be too addicted to travelling. and you - because you need the job - you bite your tongue and don't say i am being held prisoner and you're suggesting i stop pacing my cell if i don't like the scenery and you don't say what the fuck do you think i've been doing with my money and you don't say i haven't spent a cent on something nice in literally forever much less coffee you arrogant asshole. you open and close your bank app and check your loans and check your credit score and check fucking zillow and ziprecruiter and apartments.com just one time more. and still they give you that demeaning little grin and say - see, what you need is -

what you need is for your meds to stop being so fucking expensive. what you need is for the housing bubble to explode into dust. what you need is for billionaires to choke on their wealth. what you need is actual help. what you will get is more economic advice from people who are older-and-wiser.

and above you, almost in a glimmer, you can see the wedged smile of your debt getting toothier, wider.

[maeby-cursed]

➴ OH, STUPID CUPID ! ♡

✧ a/n: happy valentine's, dear angels ! ♡

Toji Fushiguro doesn’t believe in Valentine’s Day.

Why would he, after all? It’s merely a capitalist ploy to keep the consumerism engines turning. You can disguise greed in glittery pink polish and white chocolate bonbons but at its core, it won't change its nature.

And so, he spends St. Valentine’s like he would any other day; gets up at dawn, works until his hands are peeled and his back aches and gets home to eat whatever he has left over. 

It’s a good routine, the most stable one he’s found for himself in years. 

He can't recall a time where the fourteenth of February meant anything at all. 

(Except for that one year that it had.)

But he won't think of withered flowers or laughing kisses or other sweets that have since rotten in his memory. A woman, a child, an apartment downtown.

That is all long gone now. The apartment downtown had gotten expensive, and the child had grown older. The woman had gone long ago and there were no more flowers or kisses or laughter.

It’s all capitalism, it’s all vapid and stupid and childish.

So, Toji Fushiguro doesn’t believe in Valentine’s Day. That is until you come along, knocking on his workshop’s door.

You’re obviously lost, mumbling an inquiry about how much you could get for selling a motorbike you keep referring to as "an old piece of garbage".

He can't help but snicker at your wording, a little chuckle that grows into a full chest laugh when he sees what you’ve dragged to his shop. It’s painfully obvious that this thing isn’t yours.

You keep holding the handlebars with careful hands, sparing few disgusted glances to the vehicle, as if its mere existence wounded you.

He asks how long you’ve had it, and where you got it, and how much you’d like to get. 

You answer back curtly: two years, your ex, nothing as long as you get rid of it.

You seem annoyed just by having to be there and for some unexplainable reason this amuses him to no end. Maybe being surrounded by car engines in a small workshop with no windows is starting to affect him.

“I’ll take it.”

You raise your gaze from the dusty headlight, shocked by his offer.

“You will?”

“Sure thing. You don’t want it, I could use some new parts, I’ll just scrap it.”

You let out a sigh, relieved, and all the tension dissipates from your shoulders.

“Oh, that… well, that would be great! Thank you.”

Your smile makes him stop in his tracks. Pretty and warm and familiar – something dangerous. His head travels back.

After a second that lasts forever, he acknowledges what you've said, grunting as his only response and getting back to the store with you in tow.

“Could I leave it with you now or…?"

“Bring it back next week, I don’t really have a place to put it right now, y’know?”

You look around the place. It’s full of buckets of paint and car parts, no decor but stacks upon stacks of metallic shelves full of objects you can’t recognize. You chuckle awkwardly, seemingly in a better mood after the compromise you've arranged.

“Right, uhm… Actually, I'm not here next week, could I come back tomorrow?”

Toji turns back to stare at you, and for the first time, really sees you. You look young, probably in your mid-twenties, of bright eyes and shiny hair, and that pretty smile that keeps fluttering over your lips. 

He hasn’t done this in a long time… But maybe…

“I close at 10pm today, why don’t you come back then?” he says, closing his fists to stop them from sweating.

Your wondering eyes freeze on him then, and your lips part slightly. He just can't stop staring.  

“But it’s Valentine’s Day. Don’t you have any plans?” you ask, shyly.

“I don’t believe in that crap.”

Shit. That wasn’t supposed to come out like that.

“Oh,” you whisper. You're still grinning up at him, but your expression has lost its warmth, instead replaced by a polite awkwardness and doubtful gaze, and now he's kicking himself in his head.

“Sorry, did that bother you?” he asks, hiding his guilt with a smirk.

“No, not at all!" You laugh, playing with your hands. "I… just, I don’t mind it, I guess.

"I know it's not even a real holiday and that it's merely a product of capitalism, and that it’s all about sales and consumerism and all of that, but… I find it nice, you know? Having a day to be with the people you love…" You look around his shop once, before giving him a shy stare. "It’s sappy, I know.” You end with a shrug, your ears flushed.

Toji doesn’t say anything for a minute, he just breathes and takes it in. 

Oh, he’s grown bitter, hasn’t he? Old and sour. 

His son is out there right now buying flowers with his friends, his coworker is on a date at a fancy place, his one and only friend is buying chocolates for his wife… And he’s here at 5pm, with his hands dirty and his neck sweaty and the prettiest woman he’s seen in a long time in front of him, with no plans for tonight and a lovely smile hidden by a familiar sort of nervousness.

What is wrong with him? Is he truly that fucking stubborn? Can't he deal with a bit of pink?

He’ll admit that he's never minded the chocolates and the roses – even if they aren’t his favorite – and that he always laughs at the cherubs and the cheesy postcards. Of course, he won't talk about how he still hums old 50s songs while he works or how he indulges in a bit of dessert when February rolls around, though.

But he knows. He's always known.

So, maybe it’s not all about the money. Maybe it’s more about being accompanied for once since he was twenty three and alone. Maybe it’s more about taking a shot at getting something good back.

Maybe it's not all capitalism, not all vapid and stupid and childish.

“Yeah… I guess it’s not all that bad.”

“I do like it… sometimes,” you finish, as if completing his train of thought. This hasn't happened to him in a long time. "I’ll be back tonight then…?”

He recovers quickly, smirking briefly before turning to clean his hands with a rag.

“Sure, at 10pm," he says, over his shoulder.

You laugh, cheerful once more, and begin walking to the door.

“It’s a date!”

And, God, he really hopes it can be, if only because it’s Valentine’s Day.

© 2024, MAEBY-CURSED — do not copy/repost/edit.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Eisteddfod Chairs: Pick Your Winner!

It's almost June! Nearly time to reveal the 2023 Chair! So come, gather round Tumblrs, let me tell you of the furniture-based customs of my people

So Wales has been celebrating Eisteddfodau (festivals of poetry, music, and disco dancing), in some form or another, since at least the 1100s, when Lord Rhys of Dinefwr had one all formal-like and made it into a big fun party and that. The word basically means 'sitting place', and probably refers to the way people in summer would gather round the twmpath in the village to listen to bards that passed through and drink mead and shout 'hurrah!' a lot. Amazingly, this is not where the Chair Thing comes from.

Part of Welsh history is the Bardic Age, and it was custom for bards to travel the country and visit the courts of assorted gentry types (also normal people's houses and taverns and twmpaths but let's stay on topic) and play for them. If the lord paid well, great; if not, the bard would write a Super Mean Song about them and sing it everywhere, so they were pretty well treated.

But if they were particularly good, rather than making them play for the WHOLE meal, the lord would offer them a chair at the table to join in the feast as a guest, rather than a worker, and THAT is where the Chair Thing comes from.

Anyway that's preamble to say that every year in the biggest Eisteddfod of all - the Eisteddfod Genedlaethol - the highest honour awarded goes to the Prifardd - the bard who writes the winning cywydd (super complex Welsh poetry WE DON'T HAVE TIME TO EXPLAIN ALL OF THIS). And the prize for writing the winning cywydd is that you are awarded, you guessed it, the Chair.

Now these Chairs (capital C, please, we like a bit of Fantasy Novel Capitalisation and for this cultural reason I will never understand people who complain about it) are unique. They are thrones. They are carved each year by one chosen carpenter, who crafts a one-of-a-kind Chair with symbolism and that, never to be replicated. They usually have the year carved on, but otherwise, they vary wildly in aesthetic and symbolism. In a No Award year (because Eisteddfod judges don't subscribe to the Western idea that there HAS to be a first, second and third place; if no one is good enough there is no award, and I have seen choir competitions for seven year olds where there was no first or third place but there were two choirs in joint second), the Chair is sent back to the carpenter who carved it, and they get to keep it. In a year where the bard died before the ceremony, it is draped in black, and given to next of kin.

(That has only happened once. RIP Hedd Wyn, 1887-1917. Also the only reproduced Chair; the original, known as the Gadair Ddu (the Black Chair) is on display in his family home, but a 3D printed replica has been made for display by Amgueddfa Cymru)

BUT THEREFORE a big part of Eisteddfod fun is seeing what the Chair will look like this year. Traditional ones, see, we tend to think look like variants of this:

(Apologies for the substandard attempts at alt-text; I have no clue how to describe these properly)

This one is from 1896. The phrase "Y gwir yn erbyn y byd" means "The truth against the world", and was included in a lot of old ones. Modern ones tend to incorporate the druidic symbol for awen ("poetic inspriation") instead. Some of these incidentally turn up in lil' chapels and that about the country.

But actually even the old ones were mad different, look; clockwise from top left, these are y Gadair Ddu (1917), 1876, 1926 (when the carpenter was Chinese and enjoyed the cultural fusion), and 1908.

Still the same theme, though, but in the modern day the carpenters are all off the shits! They're all over the place! Fuck the rules! And I have Opinions.

Category: I See What You Did There

SYMBOLISM!!! 2011 is a pit wheel from Wrexham's mining past! 2013 is the head of a harp, from Denbighshire's cultural harp-making past! 2017 is fish, from Anglesey's maritime present! Fantastic. Love it.

Best in category: 2017. Why does Anglesey's have so many eyes on the fish? We don't know. Wylfa B protestors reportedly furious.

Category: The Modern Throne

TALL!!! That silhouette! That height!! They have the range, darling! Christ knows 2016 doesn't have anything else going for it! Shout out to the Conwy river on 2019, the different woods from the forests of Maldwyn for 2015, and the red kite symbolism for Ceredigion in 2022 (the spiritual home of the bird, where the species was first saved).

Best in category: 2019, Conwy. I like the bridge and the river lines and the water effect on the front of the seat it's just so pretty.

Category: That's Just A Chair

(I am actually friends with the Prifardd who won 2018 at the bottom there :D )

WHAT ARE RULES WE JUST WANT FUNCTIONAL CHAIRS. Man even so 2014 was fucking ugly. You could have 2018 in your house. Around your table, like. Even 2012 has a sort of IKEA vibe that's boring but palatable. 2014 is only coming in the house under sufferance.

Best in Category: 2018, easy, and not just because it's the one I'm most likely to get to sit in one day. It's pretty.

Category: NO GODS NO CHAIRS NO MASTERS

WHAT

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED IN 2010

BRO I DO NOT THINK YOU TRIED

Best in Category: OBVIOUSLY 2021 I COULD PHYSICALLY MAKE 2010 MYSELF

[sixx-sixx-sixx]

THE TRADER’S DAUGHTER — cooper “the ghoul” howard x female!oc

EDIT; FOLLOW @bonafideyapper FOR FUTURE PARTS

warnings(?): dbf!cooper, female!oc, oc is described as brown eyed (but feel free to picture whatever you want), proofread to the best of my ability (correcting capitalization is not my priority on my phone, this is hard enough to format as is), this series will have smut at some point but let me work up to writing that (meaning, let me smoke this joint and see where the wind takes me), there’s allusion to smut in this towards the end but it’s nothing wild

(this is part one of some) - part 2

Daisy hadn’t seen Cooper for a very, very long time. She’d never forgotten the charismatic cowboy that told her stories of the old world and of his encounters with creatures in the wasteland. The ghoul that would bring her little trinkets from his travels, gifting her a pearl necklace for her 10th birthday. A single pearl on a dainty silver chain that she would wear every day until it wore out. She was 13 when that happened, and was utterly devastated. Thankfully, she had charmed a local boy for a new chain, sneaking behind her dad’s back to go on a few dates with the kid. She’s continue to flirt with men and make empty promises to them to replace the chain each time it broke.

Cooper had gotten himself into some thick shit, spending a good time locked up by some raiders and other bullshit that got him sidetracked. On the other side of the goddamn wasteland, on the fucking east coast. How did he even get to the fucking east coast? By the time he made it back to the trading post, over a decade had passed, and it showed in the size of the once-familiar settlement. More gambling, more fighting in the streets, whole lotta bad shit that he didn’t have time to get involved with. He made his way through the town, his gaze trained on the old trading post at the center of town. He took careful notice of how men sneered at him as he passed by them, mumbling some racist bullshit about his ghoulishness.

Fuck them, he thought as he stepped up to the door of the trading post. He opened the door to hear the old bell jingle to alert his presence, watching as a young woman walked out from the back room with a routine “Welcome to Jo’s Shack, what can I get you?” leaving her pretty pink lips.

Daisy was almost in shock, seeing the ghoul standing in her doorway. She had assumed the worst over the years, as his visits had become less and less until they were not at all. She figured he was dead, shriveled up and baking in the sun. Or worse, she worried he had gone feral, which was always going to be inevitable in his case. Either way, she would keep extra chems stocked for the day he returned.

Cooper strolled towards the counter and looked at the girl, recognizing those big brown eyes from a mile away. “Hey, little flower. Your daddy around?” He asked her, his eyes flickering down to look at the pearl around her neck. Huh, he didn’t know she’d have kept it all those years. Pretty things were hard to keep around these parts.

Daisy’s face broke out into a grin and she gave him a little nod, leaning forward to get a good look at him. “Sure is, I’ll go get him for you. he’s not gonna believe this.” She had to fight to maintain her composure and keep her excitement at bay, going through the back room and up the stairs to the second floor of the shack to where her father was sleeping. In the ghoul’s absence, Daisy had grown to be a respectable trader, taking over the face of her father’s shop after growing up learning from the best. Although the population was tougher, she was just as tough, and nobody dared to fuck with Jo’s Shack or the woman running the place.

She stepped back out to the main room and leaned against the newly-reinforced counter, a bright smile on her face as she gazed up at him. He was just as handsome as she remembered, though she was never truly able to capture how his eyes lit up at the sight of her.

“Flower, you are just as pretty as a peach.” Cooper flashed her a wide grin, unashamedly flirting with the girl who he had essentially watched grow up. And whew, did she grow up good. He couldn’t help himself as he let his sunken eyes roam over the smooth, exposed skin of her chest, the tank top she wore under her unzipped jacket left little to the imagination.

Daisy thought his southern drawl was absolutely intoxicating as she slid a little box of chem vials across the counter to him, “Thank you, Coop. Don’t tell dad I gave these to you.” She winked and leaned back as her dad came out to greet his old friend, letting the two men greet each other like they hadn’t spent any time apart.

“Cooper Howard, you son of a bitch! I hope you brought me that Brahmin you still owe me.” Josiah grinned as he pulled the ghoul in for a hug, giving him shit over some long-forgotten wager on a card game. Coop patted him on the back with a shit-eating grin, “Yessir, why, yo’ momma’s waitin’ outside!”

Daisy watched Cooper closely as she stood beside her dad, taking in the way his skin had started to redden in places she didn’t remember being scarred over before. She had spent her whole adolescence infatuated with him, playing it off as a silly little girl crush on a big strong man (who had killed for her, but that’s a story for another day.) Her pulse quickened as she overhead her father invite the ghoul inside for a drink and to rest, watching him come around the counter to push through the curtains leading to the back.

It was fucked up, Cooper knew that. He knew it was fucked up to already be thinking about the woman behind him. Thinking about how sweet she sounded when she said his name, thinking about that little pearl necklace dangling in his face as she skillfully sat atop his—

He really needed that drink, and maybe a puff of his inhaler before he went feral at the thought of something as soft and pretty as his Daisy having anything to do with something as scarred and distorted as him.

a/n: okay yall what do we think about part one? I got to the app to post it and immediately rewrote the ending because I hated the original, so I hope this was good!

taglist: @savanahc @one-of-thewalkingdead @silverose365 @neverendingdumptser

[mintspidey]

shotgun - daryl dixon

word count : 6.6k

summary : done with another stressful semester of your university, you invite your friends over for pizza and some pre-rolled joints you were dealt a few days ago. when a handsome stranger tags along, throwing all your plans off course, you fail to anticipate how well you flirt under influence.

authors note and warnings : daryl dixon/f!reader. drugs, shotgunning, unprotected piv sex, cum eating, some dry humping, religious guilt mentioned very briefly, build up, porn WITH plot, nsfw as fuck, high sex (both parties high and consent enthusiastically), daryl jerks you off as you jerk him off, reader with female reproductive parts. song for the fic also mentioned in the fic: girls need love by summer walker.

you don't remember the exact series of events that led a stranger to your bed, smoking your weed.

what you do remember is glancing at a text from glenn, your friend of five years, saying that he would be at yours for movie night along with his new roommate because "he seemed lonely and could use some friends."

to be completely fucking honest, you did not want to make a new friend. you did not need a new friend. you were fine with the way things were; glenn and his girlfriend maggie occupied enough of your social life for you not to feel lonely even in your one-bedroom apartment miles away from your university campus.

after an arduous day of working on your midterm papers, you just needed a good old movie night where you could sit in comfortable silence with your friends and then eventually pass out on the couch. the universe seemed to have different plans however.

it's not like you didn't understand why glenn was bringing his roommate over; you weren't heartless. hell, you have been in his position before: new to the town, no new friends, just you and four cartons of your stuff neatly packed with the help of your mother - who, by the way, did not make the move easy with her empty nest syndrome.

maybe this was a good thing. you often complained to glenn about how you needed to get out more and live out your college days to the fullest before you succumbed to capitalism and worked a dead-end job just to make ends meet. you didn't even have to go out of your house to make a new friend, he would be at your doorstep in about twenty minutes. and besides, glenn would bring free pizza from his work. you could play along for some free pizza.

the clock struck nine pm as you shut your laptop for the day and leaned back on your couch, exhausted. your fingertips hurt from typing incessantly, and your thighs were uncomfortably hot thanks to your piece of shit laptop.

tossing the device beside you, you walked to your bathroom to freshen up, try and look presentable. you wouldn't give a single fuck if it was only your friend group coming over, hell, they have seen you at your worst moments where you were crying over your life or throwing up from drinking too much and vice versa.

this was uncharted territory. sort of. you had seen glenn's roommate once when you visited glenn’s to grab the notes you lent him for intro to microeconomics. you couldn't even catch his name in the few seconds his room door was cracked open, followed by a wary glare through the sliver and a loud thud, shutting you out of his sight.

your eyelids dropped as you splashed water on your face, replaying your interaction with him to somehow analyze him by his dialogue, or lack thereof.

socializing had always been rocky for you, especially following social cues or maintaining a conversation without thinking that the other person could not give less of a shit about you.

if glenn's roommate was anything like glenn, a raging extrovert, he would do most of the talking and all you would have to do is nod and comment. judging by his reaction to seeing you the other day, however, you were afraid that he was more of an introvert compared to you.

as you picked an outfit for the night, something comfortable but presentable, you practiced your smile.

should you smile with your teeth, or offer an obligatory tight-lipped smile? did it seem fake? would it be interpreted as rude?

throwing on a black tank and some red flannel pants, some of your best clothes to sleep in, you felt anxiety glow red hot in your veins, twisting your gut horribly.

the way your body reacted to socializing was a bit much, in your opinion. you wouldn't actively worry about things, but your body acted in ways your brain didn’t. you couldn't figure out for the life of you what it was, and you weren't sure you wanted to.

a few deep breaths settled your stomach as you checked yourself in the mirror. you looked decent, and you could pass out comfortably in your living room. your hair was okay, not much could be done to it so you left it be.

it had been fifteen minutes, and glenn texted you saying that he was downstairs as a heads-up so you could "fix yourself up haha."

that little shit.

rolling your eyes, you texted him to fuck off and did a once-over around you to make sure your apartment was tidy enough. as you waited by the door, right foot tapping impatiently, that feeling returned, the one that made you want to throw up and shit your guts out simultaneously.

you heard a distant conversation from the hallway and straightened your clothes in preparation. as soon as you heard three raps on the door, you opened it immediately.

"wow that was quick, were you standing at the door waiting for us?" glenn greeted you with a box of pizza in his hand. you were about to tell him to eat shit but the smell of the food worked like a charm as you ignored his remarks and moved away from the door to let your friends, well, two friends and the stranger, in.

maggie’s arms caged you in, rocking you from side to side, "i haven't seen you in so long, how have you been!"

the girl smelled like roses, soothing your anxiety one nerve at a time. "i've been okay, just buried in exams and papers, like the usual..." you trail off, appreciating the bear hug she still had you in. you loved maggie, her voice, her energy, her eyes; everything about her made you feel lighter and absolved you of all worries.

so much so that you forgot about the figure standing awkwardly outside your door with a pack of beers in his right hand and his left stuffed in his pocket.

you widened your eyes, letting go of maggie with a kiss on her cheek.

"hey, nice to meet you, um... i'm sorry, i don't think we have met..."

"oh yeah! that's daryl, look at what he brought!" glenn exclaimed, setting the pizza down on the coffee table.

"beer," daryl commented, nodding to himself.

this is going to be fun, you thought, painfully, offering him a practiced smile to lighten his heavy aura.

daryl. his name certainly suited him. clad in all black, a silver chain hanging off his belt loops, and a top that looked like its sleeves had been ripped off. you didn’t hate the way that it revealed his surprisingly buff arms as he walked into the apartment, raising them and holding the booze, "where d'ya want this?"

his voice had a drawl to it; deep like a smoker’s, deeper with that country accent of his.

caught up in your own observations, your delayed response to daryl's simple question had glenn snicker, earning a quick and hopefully stabbing nudge from maggie.

pointing at your coffee table, you started, "so daryl, you new to this town?"

the man grunted a "yes" without any follow-up, which had you frantically search for the remote control of your tv, the best social lubricant at your disposal.

as you passed the remote control to glenn to put on a movie of his choice- since it was his turn this week- your view switched to daryl, sitting on the other side of the couch with his legs parted open and both arms resting on the cushions.

you tried overlooking the manspreading just this once.

he wore his hair down, strands covering his face dishevelledly. you wondered how it didn't bother him to have hair blocking his view or tickling his face. your gaze narrowed in, ignoring maggie and glenn arguing over which movie they wanted to watch.

daryl's eyes were focused… or too relaxed? you couldn't tell. the kajal on his lower waterline certainly made your gut flip in excitement, confusing you momentarily. he looked messy; the torn shirt, the ripped black pants, and even his greasy-looking hair for that matter. but even the short duration you knew him for, it suited him.

you kind of liked it.

“let’s watch jaws! please!” glenn protested, tugging on his girlfriend’s arm, to which she just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“how many times do you wanna watch it?! no, pick sumn else.”

daryl didn’t care for their argument clearly, scoffing and reaching for a bottle of beer on the coffee table. the bottle looked comically small in his hands as you watched him buck his hips to fetch what looked like a lighter from his back pocket.

at this point, glenn and maggie were basically non-existent as you observed daryl holding the butt of the lighter to the bottlecap and flick it off in one swift motion. the sheer ease with which he undid the seal made you widen your eyes, an amused smile painting your lips.

you heard the faint tune of the theme song of jurassic park. the couple must have settled on a movie, finally, you thought. your eyes trailed every movement of daryl’s, focusing on the way he brought the mouth of the bottle to his lips, chugging down almost half of the drink, his adam’s apple bobbing prominently.

a foreign feeling blossomed at the bottom of your gut, making you shift in your seat. you watched intently as daryl separated the bottle from his mouth, leaving a glossy sheen on his bottom lip.

what the fuck was happening to you?

you didn’t know jack shit about daryl, you didn’t know his morals, or his background, or even had a proper conversation with him before. so why were suddenly fixing your hair and adjusting your clothes?

why did you care?

peeling your eyes away with great difficulty, you turned your attention to maggie who was reaching for a slice of pie, “what toppings did you get?”

“half mushroom and half jalapeno, no pepperoni this time though, they were out,”

you nodded at her, knowing full well your attention was still hung up on the standoffish man sitting across you. turning toward the tv, you leaned back in your seat, puffing your chest out for a deep breath and settling into the soft cushion behind you.

daryl remained silent and focused on the screen, occasionally snickering at the jokes and mumbling to himself as he nursed his beer. he really was an introvert. not the kind scared to talk, but the kind who would rather not; save his breath instead.

at that rate, you weren’t going to get to know him at all, and the tension in the air seemed to grow by the second, at least for you.

halfway through the movie, you exhaled, breaking the deafening silence from the sheer lack of conversation. daryl and maggie’s heads turned to you; glenn’s vision remained glued to the screen.

“this movie is so fucking boring, glenn!” you interrupted, finally snapping the boy out of whatever spell jeff goldblum's chest hair had him in.

“this is not fucking fair, did i ever complain about any of your movie picks?” he rolled his eyes, setting his fourth slice down inside the box, clapping the crumbs off his fingers.

“ask me if i care. we aren’t even talking, we’re just staring at this screen. look at maggie! she almost dozed off a couple of times!” you responded, leaning forward in your seat and pointing at the poor girl trying to keep her eyes open.

defeat washed across your friend’s face as he swung an arm around maggie to pull her in.

offering him the most shit-eating grin, you began, “i recently bought some pre-rolls as an after-exam-season treat… it’s purely indica so it won’t have us neurotic…” you trailed off, scanning your friends’ as well as daryl’s faces for approval.

maggie straightened her back, a glint in her eye you rarely witnessed. you knew glenn would never say no to a little bit of relaxation, especially after a long day at the shitty job he works.

“fuck yeah, now we’re talking.” daryl sighed, rubbing his temples and setting his beer down.

oh, so he was bored as fuck before.

you knew it had nothing to do with you whatsoever, especially because glenn was clearly at fault, although you couldn’t help but feel like you disappointed him.

a complete stranger who happened to catch your eye and can’t leave your mind.

holding up your index finger, you rushed to your bedroom, giddiness blinding your senses just at the mere thought of being the perfect host for your guests.

when you returned to the living room with a flat metallic box, the movie was turned off and maggie succeeded to connect her phone to your bluetooth speaker, shuffling through her numerous playlists before finally landing on one.

“you’re gonna like this song…” the girl pointed at you, her eyes following your figure the moment you stepped into the living room. tilting your head in confusion, you waited for the song to begin as the speaker turned on with three little beeps.

“honestly…” you heard from the speakers, ears perking up instantly. your eyes widened at maggie in excitement, your mouth falling agape.

daryl and glenn observed the two of you, confused at the sudden change in atmosphere.

as the instrumental in the background progressed, you rushed to your seat, nudging the lid of the box open with the pad of your thumb. the scent of weed, not the kind that stinks but is subtle and almost nostalgic, enveloped your senses. your fingers found themselves picking the well-rolled joint in your hands and asking someone for a light.

daryl grabbed his lighter, which you noticed had a sticker of a skull on it, and extended his hand. his buff, well-defined, muscular-

“you think one joint’s gonna be enough? i’m not a lightweight unlike this loser here,” daryl spoke in a full sentence for the first time, gesturing towards glenn as he flicked the lighter on and looked up at you. placing the joint between your lips, you craned your neck forward and leaned in to meet the flame halfway, two fingers ghosting in a ‘v’ under the cigarette in case it fell.

“i have plenty, daryl. getting high won’t be a problem,” you glanced up at him, through the flame, paying close attention to his eyes for the first time now that his hair was mostly out of the way.

his face bathed in the orangish hue of the flame, as did yours, revealing the true color of his eyes. they were a deep prussian blue; not what you expected but certainly liked. the spark from the lighter chipped away at the twisted head of the joint and bit the ground-up grass eventually.

sucking in, you breathed life into the stick between your lips, the head pulsing red-hot as you inhaled the smoke into your lungs. momentarily holding your breath, you exhaled, feeling an itch in your throat.

you forced a cough or two out of you before leaning back in your seat and processing the hit. your hand mindlessly raised the joint to maggie on your right, who grabbed it a little too quickly.

“honestly i’m trying to stay focused”

the song commenced, curving the edge of your lips upward. it might have been a placebo effect, the fact that you were a lightweight, or that you just hadn’t smoked in a while. but some of those reasons were catching up to you. fast.

glenn took several hits with ease, throwing his head back on the cushion and handing the roll to daryl.

“you must think i’ve got to be joking…”

his fingers, too thick for the small joint, held it with such care. like he would break it if he gripped it a little too hard. you watched the man take a long drag; his lips gently kissing the joint, drawing out the smoke to hold it down briefly before blowing it all out.

“i don’t think i can wait. i just need it now…”

you don’t know what awakened in you; maybe it was because your favorite song was playing, or that smoking looked especially attractive on him, or a combination of both, but your eyes widened unnaturally largely as you traced his movements; the movement of his lips around the cig, his chest heaving after a hit, his sharp collarbones on shameless display as he threw his head back in relief.

you were entranced.

“here.” he offered, reaching across the seating area with the joint in his hand.

you tried to make the exchange non-physical. you really did. but his fingers enveloped most of the joint and you had no choice but to fumble with them until you grabbed hold of the cigarette, his touch leaving your skin burning hot.

“i just need some dick… i just need some love…”

this was not relaxing in any way. you sat with this stranger you wanted to fuck as a song about wanting to fuck played in the background. you monitored your breathing and your posture; all of these efforts to impress this question mark of a man in your living room.

“fuck, i think i’m already high.” glenn coughed out, his head resting on maggie’s shoulder. you chuckled, nursing the joint once again.

you were not going to lie. the drug had gotten hold of you by now; your reactions were slightly delayed, you took longer to process what the other person said, and your eyelids hung lower than usual.

and there's the cottonmouth.

what trumps all of the above, however, is the pure euphoria climbing every fiber of your body. a harmony of numbness and freedom flowing through you, dusting the weight off your shoulders.

“you could be the one. we can start with a handshake, baby, i’mma need more than a hug…”

you might have underestimated the effects of weed on you. not only did it make you giggly and careless and hungry, but it also made you unbelievably horny. you looked up at daryl, a blunt weight on your eyelids having you cherish the softness of the cushions behind you. the pillow resting between your legs brushed against your core, throwing gasoline to the flame.

the nape of your neck felt hot as you swallowed thickly, trying to distract yourself from the situation at hand.

the bass from your speakers stimulated your body, vibrations traveling between your legs.

“girls can’t ever say they need it, girls can’t never say now…”

fuck, you wanted someone.

normally, you were fine being alone; it was difficult enough managing yourself, let alone someone else. and it isn’t like you didn’t have experience with romance; you had a couple of relationships in high school that obviously didn’t last. coming to university, however, made you realize just how not-ready you were to be involved with someone.

“hey can i take a nap on your couch?” maggie began, gently nudging glenn to make room for her head on his lap.

“already?” you teased the girl with no actual annoyance in your voice.

maggie nodded, tired and laying down on her boyfriend’s lap. you swore you heard daryl scoff slightly as glenn stroked maggie’s hair. you flashed a small, sort of obligatory smile at the couple on your couch.

the distance between you and daryl seemed to lengthen as half of your smoke circle was now passed out, leaving no one to pass the joint. your back strained, trying to close the gap between you and the man who did not seem to get high at all.

“hey, uh.. daryl? you high yet?”

“nah, i can go for a few more rounds.” he grunted kicking glenn’s leg in slight annoyance.

your eyes widened, bottom lip jutting out in admiration of his tolerance level, “you smoke often?”

“a lot of shit happens around… just easier to tolerate if you can forget for a while,” he spoke, bringing the roach to his lips.

“why not drink instead? why do you smoke?”

you knew you were testing the limits with this closed-off man, but how else were you supposed to get to know him?

daryl cocked an eyebrow, and you could hear him question why it was any of your business to know anything about his life.

“i’m not a good drunk.”

silence washed into the room, leaving you pouting your lips, trying to segue the conversation into something lighter.

“i like your skull tattoo.” you commented, eyeing the back of his hand. you realized it looked exactly like the sticker on his lighter. that seemed to have caught his attention noticing his slightly raised eyebrows.

“can you guys shut the fuck up?” a drowsy voice interrupted your conversation.

“what the fuck do you want us to do huh?” you retorted, turning towards glenn, who was scrunching his face in irritation.

“go inside or something i don’t fucking know!”

you would have usually kicked him off the couch for behaving like the annoying brother he is, but you had to think this through. there was a way this could turn out well for you.

‘going inside’ meant that you would be alone with daryl, probably on your bed too since there wasn’t any other seating inside your room. you looked at daryl, raising your eyebrows suggestively.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

your room was slightly colder than your living room; something about the building ventilation being fucked up. daryl didn’t seem to care, shedding the sleeveless vest he had on, his biceps flexing in the process. you eyed the posters on your wall with criticism, hoping none of them were embarrassing.

“you like breaking bad huh?” daryl commented, pointing at your wall. you nodded, a smile pulling at your lips.

“good show. you got good taste.”

your chest swelled with pride, muscles around your mouth in pain from how hard you smiled. a chill from your aircon trailed up your spine, your arms hugging either side of your torso in an attempt to warm up. daryl glanced at you, specifically your breasts pushing up against each other, momentarily, before sitting on the foot of the bed with the dying roach in his hand.

you turned off the fluorescent white central lighting in your room before pressing the switch for your calmer, dimmer lamp.

“shit was hurtin’ my eyes, thanks.” you heard daryl chuckle.

“yeah, the landlord hates me, i swear. had to get candles because that light is just so fucking ugly,” you spoke, a laugh bubbling up. the smile on your face had not left since you entered your room. the full-body euphoria made you giggly, even in the company of a stranger.

sitting down on the other side of the bed, you dug into the metal box once again, fumbling with the tempting joints as your vision blurred softly. you felt his gaze burn into your skin as you sat in your dimly lit room.

“you play guitar?” he questioned, looking away from you and at the metallic blue electric guitar placed in the corner of your room.

“a little… i’m still learning though… you?”

“used to.” daryl responded, fishing his lighter out as soon as you stopped fumbling with the joint.

repeating the same routine; sticking the joint between your lips and leaning into him, overestimating the space between the two of you this time, you climbed toward him, fists digging into your mattress as you waited for him to give you the light.

you didn’t pay attention to the way your tank top dropped low in front of him, or how quick his eyes were to check you out before nudging the flame toward the joint.

you sucked on the cigarette, eyebrows knitting in pain from the delicious burn spreading through your lungs, not breaking eye-contact with the man in your bed. you exhaled slowly, the back of your head landing on the headboard with a thud, “fuuuuck… i missed this.”

daryl tilted his head, “yeah? why? you take a break?”

“well, i get addicted to things easily… and religious guilt and whatnot…” you answered, feeling weird about your sudden transparency.

daryl raised his eyebrows, “that’s heavy shit, you don’t gotta tell me twice.”

you pass the joint to daryl, his fingers sizzling against yours for the millisecond-long touch. the scent of weed fogged your senses as he blew the smoke out, coughing immediately after.

your nerves undid themselves one after the other, head swaying to a non-existent rhythm. this strain was strong. you had forgotten how dangerously easy it was to not give a fuck when you were high.

do something, say something, you scolded yourself, scanning daryl’s figure on your bed. it felt like the universe had dropped a gift on your lap and you, for some reason, refused to open it.

your inner teenager activated the second you sat down on your bed with him, letting your thoughts run wild.

the blunt ache between your thighs grew more unbearable by the second as you wondered how his lips would feel; how they’d taste.

you wanted to be near him and feel his fingers, his warmth around you. but nothing was going to happen if you didn’t close the gaping distance between the two of you. you parted your lips, heart beating faster than ever. if he shot you down, it would be the worst high of your life and you would just have to live with that.

your mouth acted before the sober part of your mind did, popping the first question in your mind.

“you ever shotgunned?”

daryl stopped fiddling with his lighter to look at you, darting his tongue out to wet his bottom lip; that same glossy sheen sent a jolt of lightning to the bottom of your gut.

you tried filling in the silence, “you know… inhaling smoke fro-”

the man nodded hesitantly, hair moving toward his face, “i know what it is.” the drone of his accent budded excitement in your chest.

you cocked an eyebrow and inched closer to him, “i haven’t.”

he stopped all movement, looking up at you to process the loss of space between him and you.

“how does it feel?” you tilted your head, shame or dignity nowhere to be found within you.

daryl’s chest heaved as he brought the joint in his hand to his lips. you watched him, processing his movements, heart beating faster than usual. his lips worked fast around the pre-roll, leaving you wondering whether he would look the same between your legs.

your thighs squirmed, body feeling smaller and smaller in front of the man leaning closer and closer to you. his hands cupped your face, the cool metal of his rings contrasting his burning fingertips.

your lips parted as you looked up at him through your eyelashes, surrendering into his hold. pulling your face in, he switched his gaze from one eye of yours to the other.

the strong yet subtle aroma of his cologne mixed with the frankly delicious scent of the drug scrambled your senses. daryl looked down, blowing smoke in a thin stream, refusing to look away from where the smoke met your lips.

like a reflex, you inhaled, hands grabbing at his legs for balance.

the room seemed to darken in comparison to the man holding your face. suddenly he and you were the only objects in the world, floating. daryl’s hold loosened as you inhaled for what felt like years of your life.

“how about that?”

your breath staggered, processing what happened a second ago. you nodded, not pulling away from him.

daryl was definitely high. a pinkish hue masked his eyes, eyelids drooping down lower than usual, and a mindless smile playing on his lips. you could say the same for yourself, still processing the position you were in with a handsome stranger you met, thanks to glenn.

“that was.. um… yeah. fun…” you struggled to find the words, still looking into his cold eyes. you shifted your weight, the flannel of your pants rubbing deliciously against your core, making you hitch your breath.

“you gon’ pull away?” he spoke, not letting go.

“you gonna let go?” you retorted, not pulling away.

you had to grow some balls. here you were, getting high with someone you actually were interested in after a long time. that was not the right time to second- guess yourself.

fingers tracing his jaw, you leaned in.

“daryl. can i kiss you?”

you could see the gears turn in his head as you waited for what felt like years for a response. not a word was spoken. the dim lamps lit the back of his head casting an angel like glow to his silhouette.

he brought the flaming end of the joint to his tongue, putting out the embers with a soft sizzle.

you widened your eyes, “what the fuck, how did that not hurt-”

silence.

the softest pair of lips on yours shut you right up, your nose finding warmth against his skin. daryl pulled you in, fingers reaching for your hair.

what was happening?

you kissed back, sitting up straight to find balance. his hands roamed your back and stopped at the small of it. he tightened his grip around the fabric of your tank top and pulled you in. your chest leaned flush against his, feeling the outlines of his several silver chains on your breasts.

your lips grew hot with every kiss you planted on his, his tongue swiping your bottom lip before biting it gently. the very involuntary moan he pulled out of you, had his chest heaving. your fingers found his small waist, relishing the way he felt under your touch.

daryl pulled away, muttering a string of “fuck”s , eyeing you head to waist, “you sure you want to?”

you deadpanned, mouth open at the man’s obliviousness, “yeah, i’m kissing you back because i don’t want you.”

“hey, no sarcasm. yes or no?”

“yes, daryl. you?”

“hell, yeah,” he nodded, pulling you in with one arm as he made himself more comfortable on your bed.

you pressed kisses on his neck, arms anchoring yourself around him on the cream-colored sheets. his shoulders settle, a long sigh escaping his lips. the grip of your fingers on his waist tightened when you caught the scent of his cologne mixed with the cigarettes you assume he had been smoking all day.

he leaned back on your pillow, eyelids dropping as he spread his legs to sink further down on the mattress. you tugged at the waistband of his jeans, signaling him to undo his belt. as he worked on his pants, you were quick to shed your tank, revealing your bra.

daryl stopped fumbling with his belt to look at you, breathing getting heavier, cock stirring at the mere sight of a topless you.

“daryl!” you reminded, noticing how distracted he was. watching him undo the zipper on his pants and push them down had you drooling in anticipation. you did not know it was possible to drool at the sight of someone, but there you were.

you started unbuttoning his shirt, peppering kisses from the nape of his neck to his collarbones, taking your sweet time to taste him. your other hand, having a mind of its own, palmed him through his boxers, fishing his first moan for the evening.

“you like it when i do that?” your open mouthed kisses made their way to the shell of his ear.

“fuck… yeah, do it again.”

following a soft chuckle, your legs straddled his waist as you helped him remove his shirt. you weren’t surprised when his tattoos were revealed, or his numerous chains for that matter. what you were intrigued about, however, were his scars.

scars scattered across his torso, some covered up with tattoos, some not.

“oh, um. yeah, these-”

“you don’t have to tell me.”

he nodded, relief washing over him. you sensed the hesitation in his voice as he tried to explain. you could tell that was not the time, clearly.

one of your hands slipped under his boxers, feeling his length. daryl’s mouth dropped open, eyes rolling back at your touch.

daryl was big. not just length-wise either; your fingers wrapped around him but barely met as you stroked up and down his shaft. his heartbeat quickened as he bucked his hips into your palm, desperate for more friction.

you had forgotten all about the pathetic state of your arousal between your legs, completely focused on making the guy writhing under your touch feel good.

so imagine your surprise when he mirrored you, his right hand sliding down your underwear to rub at your clothed clit.

you noticed daryl smile mindlessly, wondering what amused him in the middle of getting a hard-on.

“you get this wet for a stranger?”

a jolt of lightning shot up your pussy as you detached your lips from his neck, rocking against his thick fingers to meet his eyes.

“i wouldn’t be talking shit ab-... about someone who’s got your dick in their hand,” you replied, trying to concentrate on your hand and hip coordination.

“just a- fuck … just observing,” he whimpered through heavy breaths, eyeing your chest.

his fingers deftly hooked the fabric of your underwear to pull them to the side. before you could brace for impact, the coolness of his touch met the warmth of your pulsating clit, applying minimal pressure.

“daryl, fuck, can you just-” you pleaded, grinding harder against his fingers.

“nah,” you felt his smile through the kisses on your neck as his other hand unhooked your bra with ease.

you were so fucking close. but this was a competition, an unspoken one, but one nonetheless.

trying your best not to give in to his frankly skilled fingers working your pussy, your own stroked the head of his cock, earning a choked moan from the man who momentarily stopped all movement in utter surprise.

the bouts of energy shooting up your core were ten times more intense because of the weed. and maybe, probably, definitely because of daryl. that toy in your nightstand couldn't make you clench around nothing like his fingers did just a few seconds ago.

your biggest mistake was thinking that you had gotten the best of him. his focus, although seemingly on your breasts bouncing in his face, was on his own fingers, rubbing at your folds before sliding a digit down your slit and dipping into you.

head thrown back and eyes rolling to the back of your head, you gasped in your highest voice, painful pleasure coursing through your veins.

the pad of his thumb rubbed circles on your clit, the rest of his digits gathering your arousal to rub the folds of your pussy.

“this is to- too much, oh i feel so fucking good-”

“hush now, you don't wanna wake them up,” he reminded you, the stubble on his chin scratching against the soft skin on your tits. bringing his mouth to one of your nipples, he nibbled softly, massaging your other breast with his free hand.

you brought the hand previously wrapped around him to your mouth, spitting on your palm and pulling him out of his boxers before covering him with your saliva.

it was his turn to try and be quiet, teeth sinking down on his lower lip as he watched you jerk him off, smearing your spit on his tip and dipping into the slit of his cock with your thumb.

“where’d’ya lear- … learn all this?” the drawl in his voice grew raspier.

“i got my ways,” you looked up at him, mind hazy as ever, yet still focused on what was at hand. literally.

you don’t know what came over you when you pulled away from him entirely to take your pants off. daryl watched you strip, eyes raking your naked silhouette.

“what are you doi-” he began, trying to put two and two together. you climb back into your bed, pulling daryl in by his arms.

reaching for his cock, you straddled his waist, pulling your panties aside and slapping his shaft against your folds, the mere sound of contact sending shockwaves to your gut.

you rocked into his shaft, rubbing yourself up on him, your arousal smothering the tip of his cock almost immediately.

the warmth of your core sent daryl over the edge as his hands gripped firmly at your waist, rubbing his shaft up and down your slit.

your hands grabbed his thighs, massaging them steadily as the two of you continued to grind against each other, the tiniest of frictions bringing you closer to the edge.

“daryl, i don’t think i can last longer i-”

“me neither sunshine, you wanna do the honors?”

you nodded, wetting your lips and chasing your high. the sinful noises of his cock rubbing up against your pussy as you grow wetter by the second only help you as you bounce up and down against him faster and harder.

you panted his name, eyes shut and nails clawing his biceps, the tip of his cock swollen pink and pulsating.

as you focused on cumming, you didn't notice his thumb pressing down on your clit in one swift motion, sending white-hot flashes through your nervous system, your pussy clenching around nothing. his finger did not leave your clit, even when you fell back on the mattress, feeling your orgasm crescendo as your body shook in sheer euphoria.

you gripped your sheets, whimpering through the orgasm as you bit your fingers to stay quiet. tears of pleasure threatened to spill from your eyes when you arched your back at your final clench before letting go in exhaustion, clit throbbing bluntly from the aftermath of your climax.

your eyes flickered to daryl’s cock, the head leaking with precome as he watched you cum around his cock. he swallowed thickly, hands inching closer to your figure.

“daryl, you wanna come on my tits?”

eyebrows raised, he nodded hurriedly, climbing on top of a very topless you, and stroking himself. it still seemed as if he held back on cumming too soon even though you were the first one to do so.

cocking an eyebrow, you massaged the inside of his thighs, inching closer and closer to his pelvis before cupping his balls.

a guttural moan escaped his lips, the hand on his cock speeding up its pace. his mouth fell open, “fuck fuck fuck i’m coming, im coming-”

his climax painted your chest as his elbow propped himself up near your head, trying not to collapse on you.

your fingers played with the liquid, smearing it on your breasts before bringing them to your mouth and pushing them past your lips.

daryl, still recovering from his orgasm, took notice of that, a small smile playing on his lips before kissing you. the slightly salty taste of his own climax flooded his mouth as he felt your fingers thread his hair.

pulling away, you stared at him, the sheen on sweat on his forehead and chest a pretty reminder of what just happened between the two of you.

“you treat all your houseguests like this?” you heard him through the pulsation now in your ears.

that comment earned him a playful slap on the arm. “gonna help me clean this up first?” your eyes pointed toward your tits.

“depends, can i sleep over?” he questioned, already on his way to grab some tissues, letting you know he was joking around.

you giggled, sitting up to face him, “you can come over anytime you want daryl, you bring the weed next time though.”

you swore you heard him chuckle before saying, “deal.”

__________

hii ! pls comment and let me know if you liked the fic!! <33

[lukeywritesstuff]

this request might be a little confusing to type out but hear me out😭🤣 could u write something ab the reader having a kid and the devils having a event where the players get to train with the kids! the readers kid is one of the kids at the event and luke falls for the reader somehow through that! idk i have this vision in my head but idk how to type it out😭

Little League

Luke Hughes x mom!reader

Note: don’t worry! I totally understand what you’re saying. I read this and kinda had a social media/irl storyline come to my mind so I hope that’s alright! Also I kinda made them slightly know each other, but like acquaintances and they have like mutual friends kinda sorta.

Warnings: a shit ton of fluff. Literally it’s all fluff. Like I don’t even think this has cursing in it. And if so maybe once.

My name is Y/N, and when I was 15 I had a son. He is absolutely everything to me. I was young, and dumb, but if I was given the option to go back and never hook up with some senior at my school, I wouldn’t take the offer. I love my little man too much.

When he was 2 he fell in love with hockey, so at 3 I let him start learning how to skate and grasp the basics of playing hockey, even though for his age it was just floor. Now at 5 he’s playing fully on ice and his team was even invited to practice with the New Jersey Devils, as his team, and we, are based in Newark.

Once we got to Prudential Centre the boys were sent to the main locker room, their names were on tape right under their buddy for the day. I was looking around and right under ‘Luke Hughes’ in full capital letters read ‘Ethan Y/L/N’. I walked my son over to the stall where his name was (obviously avoiding the logo) and I helped him change into his pads, uniform and skates.

After all the kids were settled and ready, coach Ruff started explaining to the kids and the parents how this practice session basically works.

It’s a 4 week training camp, and it’s every Wednesday that the devils are in town. (So 4 Wednesdays, but sometimes there’s a week between the practices without one cuz they’re away) after everything was explained, the Devils were brought into the locker room to meet with their buddies for the program.

The second Ethan saw Luke the smile on his face grew by about 100%. He watched him on Michigan last season as my sister goes there and is friends with some of the older players on the team, and they’ve met before, so he’s excited to see his old friend.

“LUKEY! You’re my buddy! I’m so happy! I missed you! Are we gonna shoot pucks and score on everyone!?” My 5 year old said acting like I just fed him 3 coffees with a side of 10 pounds of sugar.

“Oh yeah we are! We’re gonna be the best group on the ice! With the best cheerleader! Right Y/N?” He said and I smiled at them giving a thumbs up.

After the rest of the kids got to know their buddy a little more the teams were ushered onto the ice, and parents were to stay along the sidelines and not interfere unless there was an emergency.

The team had several smaller nets put up along the boards to practice shooting, cones near centre ice to practice skating, and pucks EVERYWHERE. The kids were all having a blast, and so were the professionals.

By the end of the 2 hours all the kids looked ready to nap, and honestly so did most of the players. Everyone went into the locker room and the players helped the kids with their skates before they talked to the parents.

“So, how was Ethan out there?” I asked the curly headed man smiling at me.

“He’s great. Future NHL superstar I think. The next Gretzky! Forget about bedard!” He said.

“I’m glad my kids THAT GOOD.” I smiled.

“Yeah he is. How are you though? I haven’t seen you since you and Ethan visited Sarah?!” He said bringing up my sister.

“Everything’s great here actually! He’s loving kindergarten now and I got a raise which is why I put him into this. As a little treat for him.” I smiled.

“You’re such a good mom to him. You know, since we’re both in Jersey, I think we should finally exchange numbers, and maybe we can go out for lunch one day Eth’s in school and you’re off and I don’t have practice!” He said smiling.

“You know what, sure Hughes. Pass me your phone and we can text tonight about said lunch date.” I said before taking his phone.

Ynstagram

Had a great time with the @njdevils and @lhughes_06. Eth will never forget this. Thank you so much 🫶🫶

╔═══════════════════╗

The second week was 2 weeks later as the devils had their first road trip of the season. The kids were extra excited because the wait was longer than they expected it to be.

The second Ethan saw Luke he ran to the man and attached himself to him, it didn’t seem weird because quite a few of the kids did the same to their buddies.

Today on the ice they were doing more team oriented practices instead of just one on one. So Luke, Jack, Dawson, and Nico were working together with Ethan and 3 other kids. It wasn't too eventful, just 2 on 2 scrimmage and small drills that 5 year olds can handle.

But this time after helping Ethan change and it was time for Luke and I to talk about his progress, he asks me out for the next evening, I said yes because Ethan was already gonna be at my parents so I'll be home alone anyways, why not spent that evening with Luke!

[forevermore05]

Prompt: the southern riders come back when Katara is 10 years old, the tribe warriors fight as hard as they can but there's not enough of them and she gets taken to a prison in the Fire Nation where they keep her away from the water

A year later Hama shows up and gets her out using blood bending, it's practically a suicide mission to try to break any of her fellow water bendings out which is why she never did it but Hama can't let a child from her tribe there so she risks it as soon as she hears the news of Katara being there

Hama raises Katara in the traditions of their tribe and teachers her water bending in secret at night, they can't go back home since the Fire Nation ships control the seas between here and there so she tells the neighbours Katara is her granddaughter who came to live with her from the colonies because her parents died in the war and sends her to school dresses in red every morning but tells her the stories of their tribe before bed every night

Katara grows up feeling divided between her heritage (which Hama makes sure she feels connected to) and her friends in the Fire Nation who are nothing like the monsters who took her from home and took her mother from her before that

The day she turns 15 Hama tries to make her help killing someone she knows (a classmate, a neighbour, maybe the parent of a friend of hers) using bloodbending and she can't take it anymore, she runs away from "home"

She ends up in the capital and takes up a job at the palace (there's a lot of turn over since the royal family is kind of volatile so they are always looking for new people) just in time for Prince Zuko to come back to the Fire Nation, having just killed the Avatar and conquered Ba Sing Se with the help of his sister

Katara couldn't kill some poor peasants whose biggest crime was being born in the Fire Nation but she can and will kill the person responsible for taking the Avatar and the hope he represents away from this world

All she needs to do is get close to him without him suspecting on a full moon night

Bestie, this is bat shit insane. This is a crazy good plot. But this gonna take me a long while to even attempt to do so I hope you are patient with me. I'm still a very amateur writer in terms of story writing but I would like to attempt to write this one day. If you permit me can I change some points in the plot such as the aging characters up to make it easier for me?

[moni-logues]

Hi there, pretty Moni!

If it isn’t too much to ask, may I please request a professor Yoongi x female college student reader piece?

For the genre, hmmm. Surprise us, maybe? 🤭🥹

Thank you very much, eonni. ☺️

okkkkkkkkkkk

SO, I am not super comfortable with a professor/student dynamic so I have done a peer tutor type situation; hope that is ok! I really don't know if this is anything, tbh, but I'm really just trying to leave the tap on to get the rust out!! So thank you for this request; I hope it at least in some way satisfies!

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (gender neutral)

Genre: acquaintances-to-?? dating? maybe?? tbc lol; college/uni AU

Summary: Your university forces you to be tutored to bring up your grades; your tutor is the quiet loner from class whom you begin to realise you should have noticed long before now.

Word count: 1.2k

Content: none to warn for, unless you have traumatic memories of philosophy essays lmao

Kant or Won't?

You pushed through the heavy library door with a sigh. It was a beautiful day – one of the first of the year. The blossom was budding on the trees; the grass was dry enough to sit on; the sun was bright and warm overhead. You were heading into the dim, crowded world of studying on a Saturday.  

You only had yourself to blame. You knew that. One too many parties and too few essays written. You knew you had to try harder. What you didn’t know was why your school was mandating tutoring. It wasn’t that you didn’t know things! You didn’t struggle with the material; it was the sitting down and focusing on it that was the problem. How a tutor was supposed to help with that, you didn’t know. You did, however, want to stay at university so you accepted your fate.  

The peer tutor service had told you which private study room was booked for your session, but when you peered in through the door window, you assumed there must have been some sort of mistake.  

“Uh, it’s Yoongi, right?” you asked, tentatively as you entered the room.  

He looked up and nodded. 

You knew Yoongi. Well, you knew of him. He was in your philosophy group. He contributed only when forced to and you had never seen him chatting to anyone either before or after seminars. You assumed he was just some kind of loner loser guy and that was really the first and last you ever thought of him. You didn’t notice him and no one else seemed to either.  

It surprised you that he would volunteer to do this: meet with lazy, unfocused students to bring their grades up. It wasn’t exactly socialising, but it was social. It would involve talking to people. Strangers. Maybe even people he actively disliked. 

You sat around the corner of the table from him and pulled out your notebook, full of half-finished sentences and scribbled notes from lectures. The edges were black with doodles and your first clean page was the one right next to where you had snapped and written ‘FUUUUUUUUCK’ in huge capital letters. You tucked that page to the back and readied your pen. 

“Just so you know,” you started as Yoongi opened his textbook, “I’m not actually like, dumb. I’m fine with the material; I just hate doing the essays, y’know? I’m just too lazy to get around to it, so then, when it’s the night before deadline, I just have to write any old shit to get it done. You know how it is, right? Procrastination nation.” 

Yoongi looked at you, thoughtfully, and it was the first time you’d ever really seen his face. It was nice. He was kind of good-looking actually. You wondered what sort of life he had off-campus. Maybe he just didn’t like the people at school. Maybe he had other friends. A partner? Not that you cared, but you thought, now that you were really looking at him, maybe he could have one. Not bad at all. 

“Lazy?” he asked. 

You nodded, expecting him to say something more. He didn’t.  

“Ok, well...” You spoke for him. “I guess we’re supposed to get my essay on Kant done?” 

You flicked through your notes to see if you’d taken any while Yoongi still just looked at you.  

“What are you views on Kant?” you asked.  

“What are your views on Kant?” he countered.  

You wondered if it was a test. You’d told him you knew the material; it was only reasonable for him to ask for proof.  

The directness of his gaze made you feel a little flustered; the focus of his attention unwavering in a way you found unsettling.  

“Um, well, ok...” 

* * * 

“Guess what I’ve just done,” you demanded as you walked into the private study room two weeks later. 

“What?” 

“I’ve just submitted my Kant thing!” 

Yoongi didn’t look surprised, but he did look pleased. You felt a genuine sense of pride, swiftly followed by an embarrassed guilt that you should feel so proud of something that thousands of other people did with ease every day.  

“Wow,” he said. “And the deadline isn’t for three whole days.” 

“I know!” 

“How do you feel?”  

You didn’t want to tell him how pleased with yourself you were. You knew he had submitted his last week. You didn’t want to let him know that you were pathetic enough to feel a genuine sense of achievement over what you’d done. It was minor. Embarrassingly minor.  

“Good, I guess. Nice to have it out of the way.” 

Yoongi nodded.  

“That’s really great.” 

He smiled at you and you smiled back. If you got a good grade for this essay, you wouldn’t have to come back for tutoring. That alone had almost made you not complete the essay. Yoongi’s presence was soothing and something about being here in this room with him made it easier to focus. You liked studying with him. He mostly kept to himself and let you ask questions when you needed to. It didn’t really feel like tutoring at all, to be honest. He was a study buddy, not a teacher.  

You were surprised how much you enjoyed it, actually, when it really got down to it. Without the screaming panic of a deadline just hours away, you had more time to focus on the content, think about the topic, read about it, dig in. You remembered why you had chosen philosophy in the first place. And, when prompted, Yoongi would talk to you about it, too; your views were often the same, but not always. He was smarter than you, but not by much. 

You met frequently, first in short bursts, then in longer and longer sessions that you often found yourself wishing would last longer. Yoongi was good at sticking to the topic, pulling you back around when your conversation veered into general chat or something irrelevant, which you did more and more each time, because he was nice to talk to, he was interesting; you wanted to know what he thought and what he had to say.  

You also still didn’t know if he had a partner. 

*  

“Aha!”  

You cornered Yoongi in the classroom before he could escape, thrusting your essay into his face. He took it from you and eyed the grade in the corner with a smirk. 

“Well done, you.”  

“Nailed it, mate!” 

“You did.” 

“This means you don’t have to tutor me anymore.” 

He laughed softly. 

“It’s not like I really ever did anything. You said so yourself: you know the material. You never really needed me.” 

Something about that made you feel sad. You had needed him. You would not have been able to do it without him, if all your past experiences were to be relied upon.  

“Well, actually...”  

You had been working up to this. It was the perfect opportunity so you had just been waiting, waiting for your grade, waiting for this open target. 

“I was kind of hoping you might have some time to talk over the next one with me... Not formally, as a tutor, but just... y’know... Like, as a classmate. Or friend.” 

Yoongi blinked rapidly, his mouth slightly open.  

“Uh, yeah. Yeah ok.” 

“Cool. I’ll, um, text you or something and we can set up a time?” 

He nodded. There was a tiny stretch of tension between you, held for just a moment, before he stood from his seat and you straightened up, readying to walk away.  

“I’ll see you... soon, I guess.” 

“Yeah, soon.” 

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Spider-Punk x Black Cat: Punk!Cat Headcanons

Yes, I'm doing this. Every Spider-Man needs his Cat.

First of all, they'll be the first to tell you they are not dating.

If you ask, they'll both say 'We hate labels'. It's their thing.

If Hobie is the king of all things anti-facist then Felicia is the monarch of rage fueled feminism and anti-capitalism

Hates all things classist, racist and sexist and has a 'k!ll your local rap*st' patch on her battle vest

And her weapon of choice is spiked-out brass knuckle claws

Hobie towers over her (like he does everyone), but Felicia's ten times louder and twice as confrontational. Felicia in any universe talks bold with no filter, and Punk!Cat is that turned up to eleven

Which is probably why she's on vocals in the band

She has a mouth like a sailor and an accent as thick as Hobie's, so mixed with his slang, their conversation are literally British-dipped jibberish

Her style sits on the border of old-school punk and trad goth. She's usually in all black and white, compared to Hobie's red and blue, and sometime her domino mask is swapped out for trad goth style eyeliner

The motives align more than any other Spider-Man, at that makes things a lot easier.

Hobie loves a girl who can do a little direct action, and his anarchist beliefs align more with hers than any other Spider-man.

Though they did have to get over the fact he's an anarchist and she's a communist (she constantly says to him 'i dont believe in private property')

Of course she likes to steal, and she's real good at it

To most Spider-men this would be annoying, but Hobie actually finds it fairly impressive.

She steals things for him constantly, and he keeps every single thing she gives him. Lots of times they turn out to be useful, especially in his builds

Punk!Cat steals shit from museums to return objects back to their native countries and defaces pieces from racist, sexist artists

Steals from banks to handover the money to grass-roots resistance movements

And since Hobie is one of the only Spider-men to hate cops (blue laces people) he's always there to happily protect her from the pigs

She's still herself, but a bit different than most Felicias

Every Felicia is a little 'not normal' about Spider-Man, and Punk!Cat is the same, but approaches it from a different angle

She'll call Hobie a hero only because she know it bugs the day lights out of him

But unlike a LOT of Felicias, Punk!Cat outright hates Spider-Man merch and imagery

She thinks it's incredibly exploitative of Hobie and everything he stands for.

And she hates their totalitarian J.Jonah more than anything because if theres one thing she hates, it's misinformation and propaganda

Although most Fe's love their jewlery like no other, Punk!Cat takes another slight deviation -

Punk!Cat knows that things like diamonds, pearls, and gold has been used as items of oppression for literal centuries. Instead of a taste for items of bougeois lust, Felicia is much more into punk jewlery

She loves everything pinned, spiked, and covered in soda tabs. Her hero uniform is covered in chains, and even her canon 3-claw grappling hook is replaced with a heavy chain and hook she fashioned herself. Scavanged, of course.

She's really close with Gwen and Pavi

Community outreach is everything to a punk, ya'll

Her and Gwen get along immediately. Felicia is never one to be quick to jealousy and she accepts Gwen with open arms.

Gwen turns up to Hobie's universe distraught and homeless.

She teaches her about squatters rights and how her and Hobie keep a roof over their heads, always made sure she had toiletries and someone to talk to, because she knows what it's like to have a strained relationship with your dad

Pavi takes to everyone quickly, but when he and Felicia are together, it gets LOUD

The Spider-Society hates her

And Felicia and Hobie love it

Hobie had no idea how controversial dating Felicia would be. Not for band fans, but for all the other Spider-people

Turns out, Felicias aren't very popular with the Society

The both of them thinks it hilarious

They tell him Spider-people are suppose to be with their MJ's. That's how it's meant to be.

Dating a Felicia or saving a Gwen is an anonmaly waiting to happen.

But neither of them care, and if anything, that only eggs them on. If everyone thinks they're 'bound' to breakup eventually then thats even more reason for them to stick together.

Hobie has absolutely made Felicia her own watch

One which she uses to crash the Spider-Society every now and again

Because of this, Miguel hates her and Jess is just so done with the both of them

Even if Hobie and Peter.B are in no way close, Peter seems to be the only adult in their corner. As a Spider-man that didn't have the most conventional story with his MJ, he's more than supportive of Hobie and his unconventional story with Felicia. He figures if he and MJ can make it work, so can they.

Her and Gwen bond over the awkwardness of being variants of the dead or ex-girlfriend of most of the Spider-society, and how Spider-men see them because of it

And when it's time to take the Society down, she's the first in line (after Hobie, Gwen, and Pavi of course)

[yuriisclumsy]

I'm so excited that more people started taking cale request!!!✧\(>o<)ﾉ✧

Anyway hiii! Can I have an enemy to lovers with cale henituse and fem.reader idk something cliche like a dance scene or one gets protective of the other or maybe a cute "oh shit I'm actually in love moment"

Sorry I'm bursting with ideas rn.~

Love's Dance

Part 1 (You are here) | Part 2 (coming soon!)

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2,729

Authors note: You ask, and I shall deliver. PS. why did you give me such a good idea? like, I'm at 5k word for the overall thing, and I am not even done yet... (send help)

The streets of Roan Kingdom's Capital were bustling like usual. The vendors selling their goods, children running around carelessly, mothers screaming at them to not get dirty, and the usual underground activity Arm did. 

I strolled through these streets, thinking of nothing and relaxing ‘til I get another mission. 

“That reminds me…Arm has been quiet as of late. Sigh…they are up to no good…” I spoke to no one in particular, walking back to the Quiet Isle lodge. 

Quiet Isle is an inn in an area a little off the center of the Capital. I stayed there for the past three weeks after finishing my last mission. The price to stay is cheap, while still being comfortable. It has comfortable rooms, a clear view, free breakfast, and most importantly, it wasn’t noisy at all! Bonus points for the innkeepers, as they have been nothing but sweethearts.  

All-in-all, a good Inn if you’re looking to get your coins worth. 

I went through the inn’s doors, a sweet aroma of lavender hitting my nostrils as I neared the front desk.  

The Innkeepers were an old couple, and the misses genuinely enjoyed the smell of lavender. That is why, as you walk through the inn, you’ll be met with an influx of light purples from the flowers. 

Reaching the desk, I was greeted by a senior woman whose smile could cure all kinds of child injuries. 

“Oh! Why if it is the youth I’m all too familiar with!” The old granny said, delighted to see me. 

 “Greetings, Granny Fes,” I vowed curtly with a small smile. “Have there been any new guests at the inn?” I asked as she extended her hand to give me a piece of candy. 

Receiving the small candy, I offered a small ‘thank you.’ She said a quick ‘You’re welcome!’ before responding to my question. “Yes, yes! I welcomed a few new guests shortly after you left this morning for a stroll!” she excitedly told me. 

“Two of the five I welcomed are a couple expecting a child! Isn't that exciting? Ouu, to be young again…” 

“Oh, please. I say you are still quite young!” I say to get her head out of that cloud. 

“Fufufu, you are too kind [Name].” Granny Fes pinched my cheek as she got a bit flustered. “I believe one day you’ll meet a handsome young man that is suited just for you.” She added. 

I blushed a little, “Oh no, I don’t think that will happen…” I pause for a second. “Do you really think I’ll get lucky enough to have that...?” I asked, not believing I would get someone special to spend my days with. 

“Don’t give me that!” Granny Fes yelled, as if scolding one of her own. “You are beautiful! Which man wouldn't dream of having a wife such as yourself!?” 

All I could do was smile in response. This is how I want things to always go. Living in a peaceful area, sharing memories with people I meet along the way, even starting a family. Arm is nowhere near that picture. And it will never be. 

But alas. Good things always end. 

“Ah! That reminds me. [Name],” she called my name and handed me an envelope, “You received mail from a young lad. He said it was urgent.”  

Looking at the envelope as Granny Fes left to continue her job, I had an ominous feeling, yet I couldn’t pinpoint what it was.  

I turned it around only to see Arm’s seal stamped on it. Arm only sends letters if it is an important mission, and based on the color of the seal, it is of utmost importance.  

I am already not liking this I thought, refusing to open the letter. Maybe if I were to pretend its existence was nothing but a useless paper, it would disappear. But alas, I needed to open the envelope. With worry present in my face I opened it with the seal. Inside was a letter addressing Agent White Gold.  

That code name. It is the thing I despised most in this world. 

To Agent White Gold, 

Play time is up, White Gold. You have been assigned a mission in the Henituse Territory. We have discovered the traces of the leader of the organization known as ‘True Arm.’ Your mission is to go there and find out who the leader of the organization is, dead or alive. It is your choice which one you pick.  

A carriage will come to pick you up at sunrise, so don’t miss it.  

Once you arrive at your destination one of our men will greet you and guide you to your resting location and hand you an envelope. Inside, you will find descriptions of the one we are looking for, alongside a list of individuals that we found to match the description of our target. 

Remember, Agent, we are counting on your success. 

Don’t disappoint us, 

Arm 

Dammit… The moment I receive some peace after working for them like a slave…! I angrily store the letter to shreds, as if it were them instead of the letter. All I wanted was to disappear from the eyes of those bastards. They took me from my home, changed me to fit in an identity they made…they just can’t leave me alone, can they? 

 

I wanted to say no. To be able to run away to a far corner of the world so they would never be able to find me. But it is impossible. No one leaves. Rather, they die. Dying was the only way out. 

Yet, I want to live. 

I looked at Granny Fes as she talked with a few guests that were checking out. At that moment I knew that if I tried to escape, they would get everyone I was surrounded by. She doesn't deserve that. Neither does her husband, or her children and grandchildren. 

It is best I comply. 

“Sigh…Once you're in, there is no escaping their grasp…”  

The sky was tainted in hues of blues, purples, and oranges. The sun was rising from the nap it took, and fully ready to greet us. 

A carriage arrived early at the Quiet Isle Inn. Inside stood Granny Fes and Gramps Liy right next to me. Their eyes expressed sadness when looking at me. 

“Why so sad?” I asked the couple. 

“Oh, it’s just…it’s just that we’re both sad you’re leaving so soon.” Granny Fes confessed. Her husband, a bit more stubborn, only scuffed. Granny Fes elbowed him hard with a smile still shooting at me, gaining a small scowl from Gramps Liy. 

“AGHEM,” he raised one hand to fake a cough, “I guess you will be missed.” 

I laugh at his antics. Deep down he cares, he just has an unconventional way of expressing his feelings. 

“I’ll miss the two of you.” I looked at them with a small hinge of sadness but kept a smile to reassure them. I looked outside to see the coachman wave his hand signaling that he was ready for departure. “It seems I must go,” I turned to them, “see you later?” 

“Yes, yes. Goodbye little lady.” Gramps Liy ‘shud’ me to the carriage as he and his wife stared at me opening the door of the carriage. 

“Farewell, sweetheart. Make sure to take good care of yourself. And remember to look out for good lads while you’re traveling!” Granny Fes nagged me like I was about to never come back. Although, she was right about that. I don’t think I will be able to come back if I want to protect them. 

I laughed and said a small ‘I will!’ as I climbed into the carriage. Closing the door the carriage started moving. I waved to the couple one last time before I could not see them anymore. 

Sighting, I took out the map I packed. Looking at my destination, it was a few days from the capital. “This is going to be a loong trip…” I commented, making myself comfortable for the journey ahead. 

I hope I get this mission done quickly, so I can get another vacation from Arm. I looked up at the ceiling. I mean…how hard could it be to find this ‘leader’ anyways? 

… 

An old butler walks dutifully around the state halls. In hand, he holds a tray with a fancy tea set with a steel dome keeping the food inside warm; its aroma could be smelled by the passing housekeepers with wet laundry. 

The butler knocked at a door, he did not have to wait long, as he got an immediate response from the person inside. Opening the door he says his greetings. 

“Good morning, young master. I brought breakfast along with your favorite drink.” He says as he places down the tray on the table close to the window. 

“Ah, thank you, Ron.” A male voice thanked the butler. 

“It is my pleasure, young master Cale.” The butler, Ron, bowed. 

The man, who is now identified as Cale, sat down on the table to enjoy his breakfast. 

“Young master, if I may…” Ron waited for permission to continue speaking. 

“*Sight* Just spit it out.” Cale said in an uninterested voice. This is another one of his tangents. Drinking the lemonade that Ron made as he thinks of Ron’s earlier endeavors. 

Ron smiled, “I have detected Arm activity within the city.” 

“PFF–” spilling all the lemonade on the cup, he looked at Ron with widened eyes.

What is Arm doing here?! They have more pressing issues to deal with! Like, figuring out who Real Arm is! Cale’s thought went haywire.

 

Ron took his handkerchief out and gave it to Cale to use. 

“What do you mean there is Arm activity in the city? Is it more bombs?” He asked while using the cloth given to him to clean the mess he made. 

He shook his head, “no, at least not yet. I have seen them snoop around the city for information. It would seem we left them a small lead.” 

“Not good…” 

“If you’d prefer, young master, I could go rabbit hunting.” 

Looking at Ron with a drop of sweat evident in his forehead, he reluctantly answered. “...do whatever you want.”  

“Hehe. Then I will take my leave.” He bowed before leaving the room without making a sound. 

Scary old man. He looked outside pouring more lemonade in his cup. It’s not a good sign if Arm is here. I need to prepare in case they strike. 

… 

“Hey, wake up! We’re almost there!” 

“WHAT? HUH–huh?” I got up from my seat at lightning speed, looking around in a daze. As I scoot closer to the window, I see the giant walls looming overhead. On top of one of the towers built in the wall was a flag. It was the Henituse’s family crest imprinted on it.  

I’m already in the Henituse territory! 

Getting closer at the entrance door of the city, the carriage stopped, as they had to do a check before letting anyone in. 

“Execute me, m’lady. May I have your identification paper?” A soldier asked me. 

Security check? When I traveled to other places, they didn’t ask for my identification but the coachman’s. 

I handed him the paper without complaint, receiving it right after he checked that everything was good. The other soldiers gave him a thumbs up after checking the carriage and the coachman. Without further interruption they let us through, wishing us a happy stay. 

“That was…something.” 

The coach man dropped me off at a tavern near the city square. Going upstairs to the second floor of the establishment, I sat down at a table near the edge of the balcony. Waiting for the man that was supposed to give me the information mentioned in the letter I looked out into the streets, I could see the liveliness of the people.  

They were too lively in my opinion. 

Hearing footsteps approaching my table I diverted my attention to them. I was greeted with a man wearing a hat with fancy clothing. 

“Hello, m’lady,” the man greeted by taking his hat off and vowing curtly. 

Didn’t know Arm also had rich allies. I thought, seeing the man's mannerisms. 

“Good evening,” I vowed slightly, “are you the one mentioned in the letter?” 

“Eager now, are we?” He sat down in front of me with a smug smile. He placed his hat down before taking out an envelope. He slid it across the table. As I grabbed it, I took out its content.  

It was a list of suspects. They all had red hair and were male. And that was it. No underground activities, no records, nothing. 

“That’s…it?”  

This is the only information they managed to find…seriously? I thought. Was someone able to sneak past Arm’s noses? How is that even possible? 

“Unfortunately, it is.” 

“Ha...!” I laughed at the absurdity of the situation. I looked up at the man after reviewing the list of suspects.  

“This is the only description we managed to find,” the smile on his face dropped into a frown, “only at the low cost of our scouts: a single spy was able to escape long enough to hide a piece of paper in a tree trunk…” he said. 

“....” I looked down at the list.  

To be able to kill all of our scouts…this is no meek foe. Just thinking of how strong they are sends shivers down my spine…  

“I have arranged a small room at an Inn close by here. I have left some equipment at your disposal. The location is on one of the papers in the envelope.” The man stood up and put his hat on, adjusting his suit a little before looking at me.  

“If you need anything else, I left a card at your place with instructions as to how you can contact me. Remember I’m at your service m’lady, Tata! ~” 

“I will keep that in mind.” 

Watching as he disappeared behind the doors of the second floor, I decided to order something to eat before heading to my fixed place. 

…

 

“…a festival?” Cale looked at the flier given to him. 

“That’s right,” Count Deruth, Cale’s father, said nonchalantly, “the festival will brighten the people's moods, as well as show that we are financially good.” 

Politics…. 

! 

“Wait, here it says the ‘Henituse’s’ are attending…I don’t have to attend…right?” 

Deruth raised an eyebrow in question. “You don’t have to go.” 

“...” 

I must go. *Sight* My well-deserved rest has been postponed once again… can’t I catch a break for once? 

“On that note, I have reserved a spot on the city square where we will be presiding during the time,” he said as Cale gave him back the paper.  

“You don’t have to talk–or better said–you don’t have to even move. Just sitting there is enough.” 

Cale smiled at this I don’t have to move? Seems perfect to me! 

“I’ll be attending in that case.” 

“The festival will start in a few days. Be ready.” 

Cale exited his father’s study, walking back to his room. 

I need to tell Ron about this. It’ll be no surprise if Arm takes advantage of the festival. There stands a man with black hair waiting outside Cale’s room for him to come. 

“!” 

“Young master Cale!” The man runs towards him with puppy-like energy. 

“Hans, is there something you need?” Cale asked. 

“I heard from Ron that there have been suspicious activities happening in the city. So, I came to ask for permission to investigate.” Hans explained. 

Cale hummed. Strange. Usually, you would do these types of things without letting me know. Perhaps he thinks this is a bit dangerous and if he doesn't return, we know where to look? 

“You can do as you please, no need to ask for my permission.” 

“I see…thank you young master,” Hans vowed, “I will report back immediately once I find anything!” As he said that, he began to leave. 

“Oh, and, Hans?” Cale spoke before he could fully leave. 

“Yes, Cale?” 

“If you find anything, make sure to report first. Don’t go around making havoc, got it?” Cale instructed. 

“...yes” Hans responded with a bit of thinking, knowing it was the best decision. 

Let’s see what they have in store for us. Cale entered his room, he’ll laze around until the festival actually begins. What a bother… 

… 

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Master-List

[sallytwo]

MOUNTAINHEAD ANALYSIS ⛰️

Preface: I know this album was inspired by Capitalist Realism by Mark Fisher, that the concept of digging a giant pit and living in a hole to build up a mountain that no one ever gets to see the top of is a very heavy-handed metaphor for late stage capitalism. Everything Everything has dealt a lot with the concepts of modern lonliness and isolation and disconnect before but holy shit do they hit the ball out of the park with this one. The way it slowly builds, the realization that the mountain is a lie, the growing bitterness and resentment but being resigned to not being do anything about it. It's absolutely phenomenal and a lot more direct than any of their previous concept albums.

"IT ALL MADE SENSE."

When End of the Contender dropped it was an instant favorite for me, with the theme of a whole generation of people who used to be well-respected and important who are now past their prime and don't know how they got here. Still feeling big and important when the world has left them behind.

This wasn't just EoTC though. The entire album dives into misplaced nostalgia, longing for the "good old days" and wanting that back. You see it all the time in real life, the idealization of the 50's and 80's and 90's, purposely misremembering all the terrible things that happened then. Because yes late-stage capitalism is awful but instead of tackling the route issue of that, we can just reminisce on "wasn't it great when you could buy a house?" "remember how good the music/fashion/TV was 20 years ago?" The issue isn't isn't capitalism, it's just the modern era.

Rather than do anything productive to change things, the album is stuck in a glorified past.

2. "MAYBE I'LL GO MISSING IN THE RAIN"

So it's been a scam all along, there's no glory on top of the mountain and building it has all been a waste. This one thing that you looked up to that to and placed your faith in has betrayed you.

You did everything right, you followed all the rules and now it's for nothing. You've wasted your life chasing something that wasn't real. The only thing at the top is a mirror, reflecting your own image back. The mountain is a lie.

What do you do now that you've realized this? Where is there to go?

I joked when Cold Reactor dropped that EE needed to stop making songs about disappearing into the wilderness, but that's what this album is about. There's nothing left for you in modern society, so what do you do? Sell all your belongings, disappear into the woods, disconnect from everything and maybe you'll be happy.

Here's the thing. This doesn't actually happen. It's an empty threat, since this society has left me behind now I get to leave it behind. But you never do! Which leads us to

3. "I STILL WANNA BE THE BEST"

Because even though there's no hope for the future, even though you're a has-been and your glory days are behind you, you still think you can get it back. You'll be famous again, and powerful, and everyone will know your name. It all links back to EoTC

As long as there's still a chance to make it, no one will ever leave. Falling into old habits, watching the pit grow bigger, because one day maybe you'll be the one at the top of the mountain. There's no change or action, just continuing the drudgery of life for the hope of something better. Too caught up in nostalgia for the past, still thinking that one day you'll be a contender again.

4. "PLEASE CAST LIGHT OVER ME"

But at the end that falls away. On "The Witness" the narrator is left watching the brutality around them, but too disconnected to do anything about it. It ends with a question- what if I had done something? What if I stopped, or went missing in the rain, or did anything to stop this all from happening? What if the pattern was different?

It doesn't matter because it never happened. It all continues, the pit grows, the mountain climbs, nothing happens. So caught up in the promise of the mountain, you never did anything. Even when you knew it was a lie, even after you realized that your life was meaningless, you continued along in this system to keep things moving. You're not going to be a contender again. You won't be famous and powerful, the wistful summers you fondly reminisce on aren't coming back. You're not going to go missing in the rain. The mountain continues to grow, and you continue to live in the pit.

[freya-captain]

Jacaerys Velaryon was engaged to Aegon Targaryen ii but had an illicit affair with Sara Snow when he visited the North

(Jacegon drabble where alpha!Jace not being an honorable Prince and a perfect lover (as he always is in fics))

Aegon and Jace had crush on each other from childhood. After Rhaenyra ascending to the throne and their marriage was consummated, they lived as if they were the happiest couple in town. Aegon was madly in love with Jace and very soon he gave him a beautiful silver-haired princess, Aemma. However, she neither looked like Jace nor she could very likely become their heir in future days. But Jace promise he’d love his first daughter no matter what.

And then Lucemond got married in the Sept (finally) and they started to breed like rabbits. Five years went passing and funny enough all their babies had brown hair and looked like Lucerys. Aemond was happy inside even though Aegon mocked at him saying ‘Karma for you despising and calling them Strong all those years’.

And Aemond mocked at Aegon back for not capable of bearing another child anymore due to his old drinking problem and libertine lifestyle. Aegon pretended he didn’t care but he did try so hard to change—he’s been quitting drinking a long time, going to church regularly and trying different herbal remedies which tasted like shit. He had been a brand new person. But the situation wasn’t getting any better. He couldn’t get pregnant and every time it finally happened, he just lost the baby in early months. Jace was always thoughtful and supportive as any perfect husband, telling him he couldn’t care less but Aegon started to think Aemma was merely a miracle and he was either barren or cursed.

And next time when Jacaerys returned from the North’s visit, he brought his bastard son Cregan Snow who was older than Aemma back to the capital.

Aegon was so mean to imply Luke’s kids may be bastards since Aemond used to treat him like shit but now he became the one who had to live under the same roof with an actual bastard boy, a living proof of his husband’s disloyalty. Aegon stopped laughing at anyone anymore.

Jace apologetically explained he didn’t want to leave little Cregan in Winterfall. His true firstborn deserved better education, training and comfy growing environment.

Aegon couldn’t complain cause he was not in the least a maiden when he married Jace and Jace also had this affair before he said those vows.

He figured it was Rhaenyra and Daemon’s idea all along. They thought he couldn’t have children anymore and they decided to develop the bastard boy.

He hated that the boy got Jace’s everything: his dark eyes, his curly hair, his cheekbones, and he got all northerner’s good attributes in him, determination and resolve. As a bastard, he got his prudence but also he possessed the kind of charm that makes people want to follow and die for him, just like a qualified heir to a future king.

Aegon fucking hated him and the north. He fucking hated himself as well. He hated Jacaerys when he found out it was him, not Rhaenyra and Daemon, that kept drugging him so he couldn’t have another baby of his own. That’s when he finally understood what it meant when Otto was executed and said “I died laughing because one day my bloodline would sit on the iron throne and his children and grandchildren would always have my blood” and Jace smiled cruelly saying “it wouldn’t ever happen, unfortunately”. He hated his beloved made him an idiotic fool all these years. He hated it was too late when he finally saw everything through.

Now all he wanted is to take Aemma far away in case they decide to marry her to the only living son of his husband to strengthen his claim or some noble lord in a castle. He never truly believed in Gods but now he started to pray, every single day.

[lavaflowe]

JTTW READING CLUB CATCH UP

Pt. 2

@journeythroughjourneytothewest

Chpt 4 Thoughts:

•the fighting immediately at the gate should have tipped everyone off this wasn’t going to go well💀 doomed from the start

•the hand holding with Gold star of Venus and Wukong I am not okay, I’m exploding it’s so cute

•Holy shit the poem about Heaven is LONG

•Wukong handles being called a bogus immortal very well?? I thought he would be angrier about that… I guess he knows its true tho🤷‍♀️

•Wukong is fantastic at his job- the best horse girl around (for the 2 weeks he was there lol)

•tantrum™️ kicks over his desk and smashes everything with his ruyi bang, causes property damage and LEAVES

•interesting that I’ve seen a lot of adaptations have him release the horses and do a mini havoc in Heaven

•love that it’s just 2 random demons who suggest 齐天大圣 to Wukong, not anyone important or anything JAKDJSJ

•HE QUITS AND THE JADE EMPEROR CALLS FOR HIM BE CAPTURED BECAUSE HES A MONSTER??? HUH???(I thought Gold Star stepped in but I GUESS I WAS WRONG)(capitalism smh /j)

•NEZHA APPEARANCE WHOOOO

•Spreading Flower axe sounds so cool, prime design material

•”eyes glowered strangely like burning stars; past his shoulders two ears, forked and hard; his voice resounded like bells and chimes”<- poem about Wukong, so lovely

•Theme I’m noticing: Wukong treated like an animal until proven otherwise (makes sense but also not)

•asks Nezha whose little brother is he, and Nezha immediately spits back like 3 insults JAKFJSJSJ, he is not here to mess around🔫

•3 HEADED 6 ARM FIGHT: WUKONG v. NEZHA

•the old bait and switch then smashing Nezha’s shoulder (flash back to all the paintings of Nezha running off while holding his broken arm💀)

•Love that Wukong called himself the little brother of the fraternal 7

•Gold Star Of Venus more like Master Negotiator/Mediator

•….is Gold star lying??? WUH

•”Peace and Quiet” and “Serene Spirit”- it’s like they don’t know that’s gonna bore the shit out of Wukong💀 like watching a train wreck in slow motion- HES NEEDS ACTION AND SOMEONE TO PLAY WITH

Chpt 5&6 under cut:

Chpt 5 Thoughts:

•uses all his free time to make more friends

•Gold Star realizes that he may get bored so they give him an extremely tedious task that will also probably bore him JAKDJAJAJD

•HELP HE JUST STARTS EATING ALL THE PEACHES WHAT- he behaved for probably like 2 weeks (again) and then decided he couldn’t wait any longer to try the OLDEST AND RAREST FRUIT IN THE GARDEN!!! AND HE PICKS MULTIPLE, NOT JUST ONE

•I’m yelling he does this multiple times

•okay but him playing around and eating making him tired and taking a nap on the branches when he’s 2 inches tall?? Adorable, no longer mad he ate all the peaches, he’s just a little guy

•ah so he only ate the really good ones. Ofcourse.

•Gently breaking the news that he’s probably not invited to the banquet 😬

•immediately freezes the peach maidens- WHY??? WHAT WAS THE REASON???

•Identity theft smh

•he is feeling….mischievous

•RESIST UR IMPULSES OH MY GOD

•he is so wasted he accidentally wandered into Laozi’s lab

Wukong: I’ve never met Laozi….now is for SURE the perfect time to make friends, when I’m so drunk I can’t walk straight

•He keeps putting things in his mouth, very monkey™️ of him

•IMMEDIATELY sobered up and knew he was in deep shit

•he lived in heaven for over a century 👀👀, Wukong says half a year- so maybe like 175 days?

•he goes back to get wine for his monkeys 🥺🥺

•next day/year Everyone one complains about the Havoc LMAO, they just kept coming, I know the Jade Emperor is distraught HAJDJAJ

•Wukong was going to straight up ignore the heavenly army they sent if they hadn’t busted down his door😂

•all his demon Allies were captured while he did a 1 v 6 with Nezha and the 5 Devarajas

•Wukong starting to get lost in the sauce, doesn’t care his ally’s were captured as long as his monkeys are okay

Chpt 6 Thoughts:

•Guan Yin Rolling up their sleeves to fix this mess

•”nothing but an invitation to disappointment” THE DRAMATICS

•I wonder if the Greek constellations were actually listed or if that was a translation choice??

•interesting that he outlasted Moksa instead of outwitting him- I feel like there’s a deeper meaning to that

•Guan Yin: I have a solution…..call in your Nephew

Jade Emperor: GENIUS

•Erlang is PUMPED to fight Wukong

•something something Erlang Shen is HAWT

•Erlang Shen: I’m here to kick your ass and arrest you

Wukong: your MOM

Erlang already swinging:

•Warform fight pt 2: Electric Boogaloo

•”they darted as stars to fill the sky”

•Erlangs eye being called the Phoenix Eye sounds SO COOL

•spotted bustard has no standards-I stand by the whore joke

•Erlang having fun with their fight LMAOOOOO

•HELP WHY DID HE WASTE TIME ENTERING A TEMPLE??? WUKONG PLS💀💀 UR ARMY IS GONE AND YOURE CORNERED NOW IS NOT THE TIME

•Wukong defeated with an assist from Laozi and Xiaotian

•stabbed for his crimes

•it’s execution time

•really loved that the poems were used to describe all of the fights

[slashingdisneypasta]

Bittersweet Slasher Movie Happy Ending Rewrites

The Sinclair Brothers all decide to leave Ambrose one day. They each go in a different direction, they find little corners of the world that are just there's- no more bedroom door they don't go into, no more family pictures that they wince to see, no more memory of parents better off dead. They don't see each other anymore but at least they aren't there.

There's no technicality in Fred Krueger's arrest and so the court successfully sentences him to capital punishment- the only time in Springwood History that anyone has received that sentence. No one really talks about him anymore.

After a boy's tragic death at Camp Crystal Lake it shuts down, and a apartment buildings go in. Pamela Voorhees, the mother of the boy, eventually has another child and that kid grows up knowing all about their big brother- how he would have loved them and he's definitely watching over them always; There's a picture of him above the mantel and they never forget him.

Tiffany Valentine catches one look at Charles Lee Ray, all dangerous and hot... and turns right away. Tempting, but she's just here at this bar for a drink with her friends.

Chucky himself ends up in prison after Detective Norris drags him out of that toy store. He spends his days carving symbols into the floor under his bed and laughing at court ordered therapy until one of the other prisoners beat him to within an inch of his life for what he did to Sarah and Nica. He doesn't survive that night in the medical bay.

After their parents leave, Drayton gets 3 jobs in town and keeps his brothers and their grandpa afloat the best that he can but eventually those ungrateful shits disregard his hard work one-too-many times, and they're all old enough now... so he finally leaves. Chop Top and Nubbins leave too after that, finding healthier lives separate from each other, and Bubba stays in Texas, where they were born, taking care of grandpa until he dies and then living on his own. They're all lonely, missing a part of themselves... but they're healthy enough to be happy. They all know they're better off loving each other from afar.

Charlie never comes back from Korea. He's missing in action- Suspected prisoner of war. Luda Mae, Thomas and Monty stay at home as long as they can in case he one day finds his way back to them... but he doesn't. And eventually there's nothing left around them so they have to leave- they have to say goodbye to him, for good. After that they move up north and they discover the most wonderful charity group to help people with conditions like Thomas'.

Michael never gets out of that Penitentiary. He lives a long, long life but he's held safely in there until they day that he dies.

Maureen Roberts does not make the big time, but she also never gives up. Not even after Milton, no way. She stays in Hollywood, living in a tiny apartment on her own, working a job she doesn't have to take home and going to every audition she can get her hands on for the rest of her life. She never meets Neil Prescott. She never has Sydney. Roman does find her and she does turn him away but there's nothing to be jealous of. He... lets it go. He moves on. Billy and Stu never even hear about her.

[docwritesshit]

The Chains that Bind us (HuskerDust)

Summary: Angel Dusts had another tough day at work, so Husk distracts him with a quick lesson on the art of poker

Authors note: Let me just say, I have only played Texas Holdem consistently so that's what you are getting here. Also, the capitalization on certain words is very intentional. You'll see what I mean while you read

Warnings: Abuse mention, alcohol, gambling/poker, sexual mentions but nothing vulgarly described

There were days few and far between Angel wouldn't come home with a new bruise with makeup caked in it, or a new already closed scab of some sort.

Husk knew. He fucking knew and it killed him seeing that spider still going back, under no control of his own and out of fear for his own life, his own soul.

He knew the feeling though. He was on a leash hunself. Alastor made sure Husk was aware of the thin ice he slid on, always quick to brandish more of his sharp teeth when talking with the little cat. The ghost of the shackle he had around his neck squeezed more when Alastor was around, reminding him puppet strings that encircled the bartender, making him dance around like a fucking show pony.

Husk huffed when Angel came back from another day at work, rubbing his eyelids as the spider all but collapsed onto the bar stool, resting his head on the bar top while his hands held the back of his head.

Husk sighed, tapping the bar top right next to the pornstars’ ear. The spider looked up, bags under his eyes heavier than Adam’s head that had to carry all his ego.

”You good, Angel?” The cat asked. The spider sighed low in response, head back down on the counter.

”Val had me do stripper shots right after a few gang bangs, and I'm sore all over.” Angel Dust responded. Husk sighed, pouring the dude his usual, sliding it over to him. Angel looked at the glass, and took a sip, sitting up in his stool a bit more.

“Thanks, kitty.” Angel said. Husk scoffed at the nickname Angel gave him, forcing the small lift of his lips back down.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s my job.” He replied. The actor smirked, leaning his cheek into his palm with his elbow anchored to the counter.

”Y’know… You never told me how things were when you were an overlord.”

Husk bristled at the sudden comment, looking away and reorganizing the shelves for the upteenth time that day.

”Yeah, what about it?” He asked, tone a bit more snappy. Angel chuckled, eyelids drooping a bit.

”Aww~ c’mon, can’t a few friends share some old stories?” The spider smirked more, leaning forward more. “I wanna know what’s under that wall of steel you have over your heart. It’s only fair.”

Husk rolled his eyes, his wings tensing around him as he glared at the sinner on the other side of the bar top.

”Oh yeah, what’s in it for me?”

”Weeelll~”

”Other than the way you usually… provide for other people.”

Angel huffed, tapping his fingertips to the rim of his glass as he thought. Husk folded his arms over his chest, tail beating against the wall behind him in a soft rhythm in tune with Angels incessant fidgeting. The spider finally smiled, snapping his fingers at the cat.

”I’ll take you up on that offer to teach me poker.”

Husk raised an eyebrow. He vaguely remembered shit talking about Angel poker skill when Charlie brought out exercises with board games. Something about humility and sportsmanship, he wasn’t entirely sure. He does recall how even Sir Pentious bested the poor spider, though it may have had something to do with his egg minions sneaking cards into his deck when he thought no one was looking. He did say he would teach the spider the basics of it, but nothing really happened.

”… fine. Let me get tipsy first though, I’m too sober for this.” the cat relented. The spider whooped, taking his drink and going over to the couch in the lobby as Husk made his own drink, rifling through the tables drawers and pulling out a deck of cards.

Husk trudged over to the couch, drinking the whiskey and sighing in content as the sting went down his throat, the familiar burn now settling on his tongue. God, the things that would be so much better in his life if he only ever felt that feeling…

Angel flicked the cat's wing, making Husk hiss and recoil. The spider smiled, sitting on the other side of the table, tossing the deck to Husk. Husk narrowed his eyes.

”We both know I can’t shuffle for shit. Besides, I like seeing your hands at work~” Angel said. Husk clicked his tongue, setting his drink down and shuffling the cards, trying extra hard not to fall on bad habits and count them.

The cards were mixed up as good as they were gonna get, and he started to deal with them.

”In poker, there are a lot of things at play, most only at the mercy of fate itself and probability.” He started to explain, sliding Angel two cards and taking two cards for himself.

”First is Texas Hold’Em. Cause it’s honestly the easiest game for me to explain the hierarchy of the combinations of the ways you could win for me.” Husk said, snapping his fingers and stacks of different colored chips appeared before him and Angel. The spider jumped, and looked at him with raised eyebrows.

”You can summon that on a whim?? How come this only just came up?” He asked, smirking.

Husk shrugged, separating the stacks and sliding Angels over to him. “Did you ever ask before?”

Angel chuckled, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t… he hadn’t asked a lot about the cat, honestly.

Why hadn’t he?

The spider shook his head of those thoughts, and tilted his head as Husk told him the different chips' value.

“White is one buck, blue is two, red is five, and black is ten. Got it?”

Angel hummed in acknowledgement, listening closely as Husk explained how the rules worked, how he would be the big blind and have to start the ante up with only one or a few more chips, depending on how far into the game you are and how many people are playing.

Husk took a sip of his drink, throwing two white chips in, and knocked on the table

”That means a check. Meaning I ain’t got shit and don’t want to raise the ante. Now, if you have something like a high card or a high pair, you would typically raise but I like to see what the deck has to offer before I do anything.” The bartender took a card off the pile and put it to the side.

”You always burn a card before you pull the three cards,” he explained, taking three more cards one at a time and setting them one by one on the table. Angel nodded, taking a quick glance at his cards and leaning forward to get a better look at the cards on the table.

Angel hesitantly threw in a red chip, and Husk lips tilted up, his eyebrows raised a bit.

”Big spender, huh? That shows confidence. Or arrogance. With you, could be one or the other.” He commented, and matched Angels bet with a red chip of his own. Angel huffed.

Was this how he was back when he gambled a lot?

…

The slander spider got his answer after six rounds of the game. Husk was one to get under one’s skin, pull at their faults as they played. He taught Angel Dust as they played, and even folded once and let Angel win a round. But he… To put it bluntly, was a bit of an ass.

Angel snapped a bit after losing for the third time in a row, glaring at the cat.

“Aw… is the little actor mad the only thing he’s good at here is bluffing?” He teased, tail swishing behind him. Angel snarled,

”Oh yeah? Big talk for someone who lost their-“ Angel’s lips sealed themselves, and shook his head. Husk stiffened, his tail stopped swishing. Angel grimaced.

”Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed that-“

Husk held up a hand to silence the rambling, and sighed.

”No, no. I was asking for it. Sorry. Old habits die hard, eh?”

Angel sighed, going over to sit next to Husk, leaving space between them.

“Still, that was shitty of me to say.” he said. Husk hummed, rapping his knuckled under his chin.

”Yeah, no. You see why nobody missed me when good ol’ Al put the collar on me and pulled harshly. I was a dick back then.”

Angel scoffed, and rolled his eyes.

”Yeah, we’re in hell. I’ve seen dicks, of both variety’s, more than I see my own room daily. You’re not the only asshole here.” Angel said. Husk grunted, his wings shuffling a bit.

”That’s not the whole thing… I was a nuisance. The only reason I wasn’t dealt with before Al came is because no one wanted to deal with my cocky ass.”

Angel snorted, and Husk shot him a look, before smiling a bit.

“Alright, poor word choice on my part. Point is, no one wanted to waste their energy on me. I wasn’t feared, or respected. My presence was tolerated and annoying to deal with so they just didn’t bother.”

Angel pulled his lips in a tight line, eyes narrowing as Husk described his experience.

”Oh please, most of the overlords are annoying nowadays. Have you seen the Vs lately?”

Husk barked a laugh, looking at the spider next to him.

”I have… and I have a desire to maul one of them,” he said. Angel chuckled, placing a dainty hand on his shoulder.

”If you do get the chance, make sure it sticks.” Angel responded. Husk smiled lazily, placing a claw over Angel's hand.

”Will do, angel.”

Husk ignored the way he saw Angel's makeup smeared, exposing the fresh bruise on his shoulder. He would talk about it when he needed to.

Being under the thumb of an overlord who treats others like a plaything or a pawn would be demoralizing for anyone. Being the plaything is a whole different story. Husk could feel the ebbs of the phantom metal hanging from his neck. He wouldn’t pretend to know the extent of what that sleazy moth makes Angel go through. He won’t push about how he saw the way his shoulders sagged more today, and knowing the weight had more to it than just tiredness.

Angel had his own struggles, his special hell tailored for him by the one who owned his soul. His own chains made be of the same smoke that fucker breaths, but they held more weight than Hush could comprehend.

The least he could do was to distract him from the weight of his own chains, even if it meant that Husk helped him carry the weight of it. He lessened his load, why not return the favor?