#hangin on a string

[djevilninja]

Loose Ends perform Hanging On A String at the 2022 Soultown Festival

[tineymang]

i cant believe i havent posted these yet..... ive been collecting some plushies over a while to represent the guys in my eos team (and lumi) and i thought it would be a fun way to officially christen them by sewing them some lil accessories to match the ones i draw them with!

a few wip pictures below the cut!

[musictyme]

Loose Ends - Hangin on a String

[ravenplaylist]

October 24, 2024 - Hangin' On A String (Contemplating) by Loose Ends

[stottlemorgan]

A Coffeeless Morning┃ Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader (Smut 18+) Summary: You’re blessed burdened by salacious dreams of Arthur. It muddles your communication with him in your waking life. Tags: NSFW Smut (18+! MDNI), it’s all dreams and fruity figurative language in this part but - kissing, p in v, dirty talk, just smutty smut Word count: 1,537 Author’s note: My hormones wrote this lmao. I wanted to write some erotic poetic bullshit. Who better to be my muse than our gorgeous cowboy? Might do a second part where they actually get together?? Wrote this as a palette cleanser and for self indulgence in between writing requests (Don’chu worry, I’m writin’ away over here! If you’ve requested something, it’ll be done, I won’t leave you hangin’). The italicised text is the dreams/memories of dreams, I hope it's easy to read I didn't know how else to format it!

Ao3 Link

Cocooned by a sweltering warmth. Muscles braiding tightly with an unrelenting ache. The suffocating aroma of sweat mingling with soap. The spice of rum lingering amidst saliva, further igniting flushed skin. Bodies writhing hotly, sinuously with need. Palms pawing at soft flesh with greed. Teeth sinking into tissue gluttonously. Limbs entangled, bound by a glowing fever, by sticky skin. A rhythmic thrum pulsing up and through you again and again as all lucidity flits away into a wanton brume. Twin symphonies playing fevorously against one another. A call and response of keening strings, of groaning brass, of pounding drums. Winding and rising together in harmony before crashing down in a blissful discordant relief.

“Oh, Arthur–”

You wake to your body tingling with desire, your breaths laboured. Soft hues of lilac and cornflower blue tint the canvas of your tent, the early spring morning a stark contrast to the concupiscence of your dreams. A hand gingerly comes to cover your parted lips, incredulity slowly dripping through your abdomen, but doing little to quench the broiling heat. Your hand moves to splay over your chest, your heart ramming against your ribcage. 

“Good Lord…” You whisper.

You push your blanket off and rise from your cot, taking a breath, a moment. You grab your shawl and wrap it around your shoulders before walking to the small mirror balanced on a table adjacent to your cot. Your gaze catches on the rosy blush blotching your cheeks and chest. You then recognise the faint sheen to your skin, the pricking soft hairs along your arms, and lastly the sensation of your hardened nipples moving against the cotton of your chemise. With a sigh, you quickly tame your mussed hair to a less embarrassing state before stepping out of your tent into the quiet early morning in search of coffee and something to distract you. Keeping your shawl tightly wrapped around your shoulders, you pad your way to the campfire, taking stock of who is awake as you go.

Miss Grimshaw is sitting by her tent, embroidering. Pearson is just starting to stir in his bedroll. Mary Beth is already up reading, her back against a nearby tree. Molly is curled up alone at the edge of camp amidst the thicket, facing out towards the mountains. Uncle is snoring loudly behind Pearson’s wagon, to which you shake your head and smile. When you reach the campfire, you pick up the coffee percolator and a tin cup before your attention is caught by the absolute state of Reverend Swanson sprawled out on his bedroll in his filthy union suit, a bottle upside down in one hand, amber liquid dripping from the lip and bleeding into the dirt. You wince and force your attention back down to the coffee as footfall overtakes the soothing crackle of the campfire.

“Mornin’.”

You freeze up whether you want to or not, and your casual hold on the coffee percolator becomes more of a clutch. You feel as though a cool breeze has just blown through camp and would have sworn that your shawl had been swept away were you not currently feeling the itch of the wool.

“You gonna hog the whole pot?”

Arthur moves in closer behind you and leans around to get a look at your face, an eyebrow raised in amusement, the scent of shaving soap and peaches greeting you. You’re momentarily unable to process his words. A pleading ache surges from your tongue down through your stomach and plunges into your core, mirroring the trail of your gaze from Arthur’s glinting blue eyes to his lips as he presses them together to the broadness of his shoulders as he leans over you. You find yourself famished. You wonder whether your pupils have dilated like that of a starving cat, whether he can sense your blood boiling, your inebriating need for him. You feel your features slacken, your eyes widening as your gaze meets his.

Large hands groping their way up your stomach, callused fingertips travelling a plush landscape, some dipping into the sensitive areas between your ribs and some pushing into your mouth. Your vision is a desperate haze, your body that of an obscenely randy zealot, seeking every solid inch of Arthur that you can handle. The hair on Arthur’s thighs tickles your own as he kneels upright on his cot with you seated in his lap, leaning back against his chest, thighs spread open atop his. He lays sloppy kisses against the nape of your neck and uses the hand on your waist to steady you as he continues to leisurely slide his cock to the hilt inside of you. A garbled moan escapes your throat and Arthur’s fingers curl in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, his fingers and the heel of his palm bracketing your chin, holding you agape,

“Ain’chu a prize, darlin’.” He strains between kisses.

You blink, mortified by the tauntings of your psyche as your present vision of Arthur is overlaid with smutty flashes of carnal fantasies. Arthur is still looking down at you expectantly, his eyes darting between you and the percolator. Your voice comes out choked,

“Oh– Mornin’, Arthur.”

“Arthur– My God– Arthur–”

“Feel good, pretty lady?”

With an awkward shaky sigh, you avert your gaze from his and clumsily hold the percolator out to him, almost shoving it into his chest. Arthur squints at you as he takes the percolator into his hand and pours himself a coffee.

“You okay?” He asks, making his way around you and putting the percolator back on the floor, “You gettin’ sick or somethin’? You’re all…” He gestures with his now free hand to his face vaguely, bringing attention to your blushing chest and cheeks.

“Look’achu, blushin’ like a rose.”

“I– I don’t know, maybe. C– could be.” You press a palm to your burning chest.

Arthur slurps his coffee, stepping away to sit on the log by the campfire, seemingly unaware of much else other than your flushed skin and awkward demeanour.

“Well, let me know if you’re in need’a anythin’. Maybe coolin’ off in the river’d do you some good.” He offers gently, scuffing a boot heel into the dirt. The alluring image of his tough hands caressing your river soaked skin strives to overthrow any coherent thought.

By God, you’re in need of something.

“Thank you, Arthur–” The words come out rushed, breathless. He looks you up and down and his attention only serves to make your spine curve. Your chest pushes out in a heaving sigh and Arthur’s gaze snags on the sight before he trains it back onto your face with a soft smile.

“S’my pleasure, miss.” He gives a nod, the brim of his hat obscuring his eyes, leaving you gawking at his mouth as he licks his lips and sips his coffee. Your mind slips a rung lower into filth, the stem of your brain abuzz with a blinding yen to have him touch you.

A wolfish grin. Teeth glinting under lantern light, grazing the curve of your breast. Warm breaths draw the soft hairs on your skin towards Arthur as the gentle wet sounds of his kisses on your skin siphon the sweetest shuddering sighs from your parted lips. The pads of his thick fingers trace down the sides of your arms before he laces them between your own fingers, bringing your joined hands to rest either side of your head on the bed. He follows them upwards, his hips settling between your thighs, his nose brushing yours.

“That’s a mighty pretty song you’re singin’ for me, darlin’.”

Each syrupy thought sticks to the peripheries of your sight, enveloping Arthur innocently sitting holding his coffee, still glancing up at you from beneath the brim of his hat as you stand stiff as a pole. The soft blues of the spring morning begin to warp as embarrassment floods through your limbs that have long been rivering with lust.

“Christ–” You hiss, a stumble in your step as you move away. Arthur pauses with the cup resting against his lower lip as he watches you and his brow raises, a cocktail of curiosity and amusement stirring in the pit of his stomach. As he takes a breath to speak, you nod and blink gauchely, causing whatever he was about to say to fall into a broken stutter.

“Mornin’ t’you, Arthur.” You say quietly, turning towards your tent, your bare feet clumsily thumping into the dirt.

“I’ll see you later, then.” He calls out after you before snorting and shaking his head. Quickly pushing through the flap of your tent, you shiver, letting out a frustrated groan.

Lord, did you need something. Anything. Arthur.

You clench your fists and look down as one of them constricts further around the handle of the tin cup you’ve been gripping almost painfully. You stare into the cup, void of steaming hot liquid, a teasing reflection of your own lack of fulfilment. With a huff, you concede to the concept of a coffeeless morning before throwing the cup onto your cot and heading to the small dresser across the tent to ready yourself for the day.

Maybe cooling off in the river would in fact help.

[cheonstapes]

UHMM LEFT US HANGIN W THAT SPIDER BARBIE BEACH POST?? GONNA NEED THAT SPICY PART ASAAPP 😭

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘LET'S GO BEACH: AGAIN’ (っ˘ω˘ς )

@cheonstapes; ik you guys are tired of me :( getting back into writing is so hard aftter thinking you're not good enough but seeing people still like my posts gave me some motivation to come back! i will admit, i don't read miguel fics anymore but that doesn't mean i won't write for him anymore -- that said, PLEASE SEND VI REQUESTS:))))) thank you for your request my love and i love you all and thank you for supporting me🩷

part one!

1.7k words

cw; SMUT!!, FEM!READER, switch!miguel, switch!reader, finger fucking, og i just realised they never kiss :9, mutual pining, miguel is kinda mean but he loves you, water sex?, public nudity, slight exhibitionism (?), NAWT PROOFREAD!!!!

You thought the longer you looked at it, maybe you’d suddenly develop some sort of telekinetic powers to drag it back toward you — but alas, you are not eleven nor are you Moana to be controlling the water. It was cheap, you knew that, and you could never resist a good sale. But you may have slightly overestimated the strength of the flimsy strings of your bra, greatly, actually. Before you could dwell on the unfortunate demise of your bikini top, the firm tug on your exposed nipple snapped your head back round, a dripping hand clamping down on the rough one beneath it.

 “M-Miguel! Don’t— um, don’t look!” The man in question had a good look, a good few looks already at your pretty little tits — the perfect size for him to cup in his hands, imagining his burly fingers dancing along the damp underside of your skin. “Yeah…it’s a bit too late for that, cariño. You know you’re lucky we’re in the water right now, or else you would’ve flashed the whole beach.” 

With how hot your face felt at that moment, you swore you could see the water evaporating around you. Miguel’s smile was nothing short of predatory, those sharp, slightly crooked, fangs poking out of the wetted slit of his lip. “It’s almost like you wanted that to happen. You didn’t think I’d notice you loosening the strings earlier?” Well, you did loosen the strings, yes. But only because they were too tight! And you might’ve, allegedly, planned that little stunt in the water when the waves were looking a little too rough — rough enough to mess with your skimpy little bra. Chica sucia.

The waves had calmed, lapping against the skin of your legs as the sun shone down on you both — peeking past Miguel’s absurdly wide shoulders to catch a glance of the beach. “Empty.” Aside from the few strays packing away the last of their belongings, even your little group had gone home, not like you had planned this from the start. Pshh! That’d be crazy. His head tilts in the direction of your eye line, a wry smile creeping its way up onto his lips. “Hm? You planning on doing something with that observation, barbie?” 

On a normal day, you’d probably be disgusted at the thought of floating in the middle of the ocean with your tits out on display in front of a man — but this was not a normal day. And he isn’t any man, he’s your boss. You’re stupidly sexy, brooding, hulking, hunk of a boss. Things between the two of you hadn’t been the same since that little encounter before, and you’d be lying if you said you wished things went back to how it was. Oh, how you longed for a moment like that again — and oh, how many bottles of lube are stacked up inside the bin in Miguel’s office because he couldn’t get you out of his head since that fateful day. 

“N-no! Of course not,” you weren’t a very convincing liar, Miguel already knew that. But it doesn’t hurt to tease you a little bit. “I just don’t want, like, some family to see tits or something. I don’t wanna traumatise someone’s kids!” Well, if someone’s not complaining it’s definitely him. Though your hands were doing a piss poor job at covering them, the pebbles of your nipples peeking out from the slits of your shivering fingers.

The ripples of the water caused your head to snap back to the man in front of you as he slowly waded his way toward you — naturally, you would probably feel inclined to swim backwards but something was anchoring your body still. Circling around you, his wet chest stuck to your back. A sudden weight was lifted from your chest, literally, as he cupped your tits in his hand like a makeshift bra. 

“Problem solved, princess.” Miguel’s voice came in a low, amused grumble in your ear — deft fingers tweaking at your pebbled nipples with the hunger of a man possessed, wet strands of his hair tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. The faint lapping of waves against your heated body, soft howling of the wind, was partly broken by the breathy whimpers that were being forced out your mouth in time with the more feral grunting from the man behind you.

“Miguel,” the name of such a confident and powerful man suddenly sounded meek and pathetic coming from your lips, it was an extraordinary feat to keep your body from losing complete composure when the delicate throbbing of his cock brushed against your back. “Please — fuck, I…I need you, more!” as much as it was a deeply harboured fantasy of yours to see your stoic boss as whiny and submissive as you were being — all ounces of shame exploded as supernovas danced behind your eyes with the brush of the tip of his fingers against the damp fabric of your panties.

“Use your words, pretty. I’m already so close to your cute little cunt, you just need to tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.” The engorged pulsing of your clit was erratic against his wandering hands, deft fingers rubbing harsh circles against the swollen flesh. His lips trailed behind your ear, not before leaving a harsh bite to the salty skin — fangs(?) imprinting a deep set of fresh marks onto your neck. Nevertheless, as you watched your bra float further and further away from you, whatever was left of your mushy brain seemed to fizzle out before you were left a pathetic panting mess — only pausing to swallow the bucketloads of sea water and saliva that built in your gaping mouth.

“Fuck me, Miguel — just, shit…do something, you asshole.” Logically, insulting the man who had his cock and fingers so dangerously close to your leaking hole wasn’t the smartest idea — and at this point, drowning seemed like a better option than being denied an orgasm you’d been waiting 15 agonising minutes for. But Miguel wasn’t that cruel of a man, not to his precious doll at least. “There’s my girl.” A large hand swiped between your folds, a sticky sweet string of cum snapping in the water as he plunged his fingers inside — massaging the spongy walls with practiced ease.

With his free hand still cupping the weight of your chest, giving a cheeky squeeze here and there, his sharp teeth pinched the sensitive skin down the slope of your shoulder — tongue darting out to lick and suck purple blemishes onto his new favourite canvas. “So fucking desperate for me that you’re letting me finger fuck you in the middle of the ocean? If I’d known you wanted me so bad, I’d have had you taking this cock months ago.” Despite the shame bubbling in your stomach, you couldn’t mistake the impeding heat there too — luckily no one but the rising moon would see how much of a slut you were being right now.

“Y-You’re one to talk— those shorts look a little tight on you, boss.” Fuck, he loved your mouth. Even if it wasn’t choking on his cock, but rather making fun of it — he loved it nonetheless. Normally he would’ve been out of the flimsy material by now, shoved himself inside, and made a mess inside whatever hole he was fucking. But today? Today he was fucking you — and you aren’t just any hole. And you, being the absolute sweetheart you are, couldn’t bear to leave your boss blue balled whilst you came your brains out.

With a quick manoeuvre, and practiced flexibility that Miguel will definitely keep in mind for later, you hooked your feet behind his knees to press your ass up against him to rub against his achy shaft to provide him some semblance of relief. And oh the relief it was, finally seeing the crack in that well polished demeanour he always presented. “F-Fu���fuck— cariño, that ass of yours is sin.” The whimpery tone of his voice was unbecoming of a man of his stature, but you were gonna make sure you pulled more out of that sexy man before the night was through.

The fingers buried knuckles deep in your glazed walls stuttered momentarily, pushing into you so hard you’d swear he was fucking them into your womb like he was trying to get you pregnant with them. “Does it feel good, boss?” And you had the nerve to be all giggly when he’s trying to keep himself from contaminating the water with his cum, his body tensing as the thickness of his bulge grinds between the plump globes. Of course it felt fucking good, it was the best fucking thing he’s ever felt aside from the tits still in his hand right now. 

Crazy how a little bit of ass can reduce your boss to a growling, panting mess — pressing you flush against him to rub the tip of his clothed cock against his own fingers as he matched his grinding to his fervent fucking, “Ha…if you’re this desperate with just your fingers than how are you gonna be when I finally let you fuck me?” Turning the tables on him was so tiring when your cunt’s still getting pounded two ways till Tuesday with your clit throbbing so hard it’s giving you a headache — but the continuous faltering in his movements told you he wasn’t too far himself.

“Shut the f-fuck up, I..shit—  acting so high and mighty while your greedy hole is swallowing up my fucking fingers, hm?” Did his voice get even deeper? Cause Jesus fuck did it make you even wetter, you couldn’t distinguish it from the sea if you tried. A harsh, prolonged prod at your womb froze up your warm body — another thick finger finally finding your enlarged clit as the spasming around his fingers intensified and breathy notes caressed his sensitive ears.

Silky strings of cum floated around you, momentary disgust flooding straight out of your system as you turned to look at your now red faced boss — who was struggling to hold back another hard on from staring at the slicked skin of your chest. “You really just came from a little bumping and grinding, boss? No wonder you’re always so tense— you’re pent up.” 

Now sporting a grumpy from, a large hand turned your face away from his — the other reaching down to not-so-subtly adjust his temperamental cock. Bad boy. “Be quiet, you little exhibitionist. Get a better bikini next time, yeah?”

“Only if you’re paying for it, boss.”

[lootan]

OKIE when i first read mha was during a point in time of my life where i learned how to play poker and 80’s rnb blasted nightly to the then nightly summer activity, so in my head at times im like o yeah mha setting is the 80’s

When i first read my hero whaaa?¿ 201-

…….. a decade ago

[deliciousspecimen]

Can i have some verosika with a fem reader who normally acts really shy and timid around others but when verosika is in danger, the reader switchs to fight mode and they become really violet towards anyone who tries to hurt Verosika or her friends. 💖💕

A/N: Of course! I had to make Verosika red, since I make the fem readers pink. Hope thats okay :}

Feral Loyalty

Verosika x Fem!Reader

Warnings:

Word Count: 1614

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

The bar was loud. The kind of loud that soaked into your bones and made your chest vibrate like a speaker with the bass turned too high.

(Y/N) sat curled up on one of the worn-out velvet couches in the VIP section, nursing a glass of something pink and fizzy she hadn’t touched in twenty minutes. Her eyes stayed on the rim, watching the bubbles pop.

Across the room, laughter boomed. Someone got shoved. A bottle shattered. Demons flirted and fought like it was the same language. And at the center of it all, shining brighter than the neon signs behind her, was Verosika Mayday.

She was fire. Hot pink and gold, wrapped in black leather and confidence. She leaned back on the bar like she owned it- hell, maybe she did. Every glance in her direction lingered too long. Every demon around her fought for a scrap of her attention.

And then she looked toward the couch.

(Y/N) froze, eyes going wide as Verosika’s smirk softened into something else- something gentle. The succubus broke away from the group mid-conversation and strutted her way over, heels clicking against the floor. With every step, (Y/N)’s heart pounded harder.

“Hey, sugar,” Verosika purred, settling beside her like she’d done this a hundred times before. She tossed an arm over the back of the couch, just enough to brush against (Y/N)’s shoulder. “You doin’ okay? You look like you’re about to melt into the cushions.”

(Y/N) gave a weak smile and nodded, not trusting her voice just yet.

Verosika tilted her head. “Still too loud for you?”

“…A little,” (Y/N) mumbled. “But… I don’t mind being here.”

That earned her a real smile. One of those rare ones where Verosika’s edges softened and she looked more like a person than a pop icon.

“You’re cute, y’know that?” she said, with none of the usual teasing lilt. It was softer. Sincere. “You don’t gotta force yourself to hang out in this mess just ‘cause I’m here.”

“I’m not,” (Y/N) whispered, picking at the hem of her sleeve. “I just… like being near you.”

Verosika paused. That wasn’t something she heard often- especially not like that. Not from someone who didn’t want something from her. No strings. No flirting back. Just honesty in its purest, most fragile form.

She glanced down at the timid girl beside her- eyes downcast, cheeks warm, lashes fluttering nervously- and felt something twist in her chest. A feeling she didn’t have a name for yet. But it was soft. Protective.

“Well,” she said, brushing a stray hair from (Y/N)’s face with the back of her fingers, “lucky for you, I also like you being near me.”

The room roared around them, but in that little corner of the world, all (Y/N) could hear was the soft, fluttering beat of her heart- and Verosika’s voice, low and fond. Verosika took a seat next to (Y/N), and the conversations kept flowing.

Verosika was mid-sentence, telling (Y/N) a story about one of her worst tour stops- something involving a stolen limo, a goat-headed club owner, and way too much champagne- when three guys sauntered over.

They weren’t fans. Not the harmless kind, anyway.

They reeked of that specific Hellborn arrogance: all swagger and smirks, with nothing behind their eyes but entitlement.

“Well, well,” one of them drawled, leaning far too close. “Ain’t you Verosika Mayday? Didn’t think someone like you wasted time in places like this.”

Verosika barely looked at him. “I go wherever I damn well want. You got a problem with that?”

The second one whistled low, eyeing her up and down. “Nah, just surprised you’re hangin’ with… what, a groupie? Pet project?”

(Y/N) shrunk a little under the weight of the gaze- but only for a second.

Verosika’s arm subtly moved closer, her tone getting colder. “Back off, boys.”

But they didn’t.

The third one reached for a strand of Verosika’s hair, twisting it around a clawed finger. “C’mon, baby. Ditch the quiet little doll and come have some real fun.”

That’s when it happened.

A snap. Not audible- but real. Like a thread in (Y/N)’s mind pulled taut and tore clean through.

Her body moved before she thought. Before she even felt it.

One second, she was sitting meekly beside Verosika. The next, her glass shattered against the demon’s face- shards cutting deep as fizzy pink liquid hissed into his wounds. He barely got out a scream before (Y/N) lunged, her face empty of fear. Completely still.

She slammed him to the floor with a strength that didn’t match her frame. Her heel dug into his throat as she grabbed the next one by the horn and wrenched.

“Don’t. Touch. Her.” Her voice was a growl. A low, demonic snarl that didn’t belong to the sweet, blushing girl from five minutes ago.

The bar fell silent.

Even Verosika blinked, stunned.

(Y/N)’s eyes glowed faintly now, a flicker of her demonic form pushing through the seams- claws instead of nails, a jagged smile curling up too wide, too sharp. The demon under her heel gurgled, clawing at her ankle, but she didn’t flinch.

“You think just 'cause she’s pretty and famous you can treat her like property?” she hissed. “You forgot what part of Hell you’re in.”

Blood pooled around the broken glass, and the third guy had already bolted.

Verosika stood slowly, watching the remaining two writhe. She smirked.

“Holy shit, sugar.”

The words snapped (Y/N) out of it.

She blinked, her body trembling as the glow faded. Realizing what she’d done, she looked at Verosika- her hands, the blood, the broken horn- and panicked.

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

But Verosika was already pulling her into a tight hug.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she whispered, breath warm against (Y/N)’s ear. “That was the hottest shit I’ve seen all week.”

(Y/N) didn’t answer. Her heartbeat was a war drum in her chest, fear and adrenaline crashing together- but Verosika held her tighter, grounding her.

“Remind me never to piss you off, baby,” she murmured, brushing a kiss to the side of her head. “You’re full of surprises.”

The alley behind the bar was quieter, lit only by flickering neon and the red glow of Hell’s sky. Verosika’s heels clicked on the pavement as she half-dragged, half-guided (Y/N) down the side path.

“Okay, sit your adorable little ass down,” she said, pushing open the back door of her limo and motioning her inside. “Let me see your hands.”

(Y/N) hesitated, knuckles still stained red. Her hands shook- whether from fear or from the crash of adrenaline, she couldn’t tell. She climbed into the limo anyway, letting Verosika sit beside her with a wet wipe packet in hand and the strangest expression on her face.

It wasn’t anger.

It wasn’t even disgust.

It was awe. Cautious, wild awe.

Verosika gently took (Y/N)’s wrist. “You broke your glass. That’s some sharp-ass instinct.”

“I-I didn’t mean to go that far,” (Y/N) whispered, voice cracking as her walls began to crumble. “I just… I saw them touching you. And I snapped. I don’t even remember deciding to do it…”

Verosika wiped blood from her fingers, slowly. Carefully. “You did good.”

“…Good?” (Y/N) blinked at her.

“Hell yeah. I mean, babe, I have security, but none of them have ever slammed a guy into the floor with a smile like that before.”

(Y/N) flushed hard. She wanted to hide.

“But also,” Verosika said, her voice dipping softer now, “I could tell it scared you.”

(Y/N) swallowed hard and looked away. “I’m… I don’t want to be like that. I just- I don’t know, I didn’t like the way they looked at you. Like you were something they could take.”

That surprised Verosika more than anything else.

Because most people in her world did see her that way. Something to possess. Something to show off, to drag under.

But not (Y/N).

Never (Y/N).

“I like that you got mad for me,” she said honestly. “You saw something ugly and you let yourself be scary. That’s not a bad thing.”

She leaned in closer, dabbing the last of the blood away from her cheek, then gently cupped her face. “But I also like the girl who flinches when people talk too loud and blushes when I call her ‘baby.’ You don’t have to choose which one you are.”

(Y/N)’s breath hitched.

“…You’re not mad?”

Verosika snorted, brushing her thumb across (Y/N)’s cheek. “No. If anything, I’m flattered. You went feral over me. You know how hard it is to get that kind of loyalty in this dump?”

(Y/N) finally gave a weak smile. Her shoulders slumped as some invisible weight lifted.

“…I don’t want you to think I’m dangerous.”

“Oh, I know you’re dangerous,” Verosika said with a teasing glint, leaning in just a little more. “But only when you want to be.”

The limo idled in the alley, the two of them locked in a bubble of quiet aftershock.

And then Verosika murmured, almost like a secret:

“You really care about me, don’t you?”

(Y/N) didn’t look away this time. “Of course I do.”

Verosika studied her for a beat, something unreadable dancing in her eyes.

“…Okay,” she whispered. “Then I guess you’ve earned the front row seat.”

“To what?”

Verosika grinned. “To whatever the hell this is.”

She kissed her on the cheek, then rested her forehead gently against (Y/N)’s. “Thanks for protecting me, sugar.”

[biblical-chronicles]

The Masterplan pt. 4

__________________________________________

where Noel makes sure you end up as his.

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4

__________________________________________

Noel paced the hallway outside your studio door, running a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. It was getting harder to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest, the guilt that had been eating at him ever since your tearful confession. You were falling apart, and he knew it wasn’t just the industry pressure—it was him. He’d succeeded in pulling you into his orbit, but at what cost?

He couldn’t let it carry on like this. He had to protect you, even if it meant walking into your studio now and… well, he wasn’t sure yet. He just knew he couldn’t sit back any longer.

As he reached for the handle, his ears caught raised voices inside. Your voice, hesitant and shaky, was cut off by the sharper, clipped tone of your manager.

“Look, you’ve got talent, no doubt about it. But talent’s not enough in this game. You need to hustle. More interviews, more buzz. And where the hell’s the new material? You think anyone’s gonna care if you take a breather? They’ll move on before you can say ‘one-hit wonder.’”

Noel’s blood boiled. He flung the door open, startling both of you. You froze in your chair, wide-eyed, tears shimmering in your eyes. Your manager turned, halfway through an annoyed sigh.

“Noel?”

“Yeah, me,” he snapped, striding into the room. “What the fuck d’you think you’re doin’, talkin’ to her like that?”

The manager blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Noel said, his voice low and biting. He turned to you, his gaze softening for a moment before turning sharp again as it landed back on your manager. “She’s barely hangin’ on as it is, and you’re pushin’ her like she’s some kind of bloody machine.”

Your manager’s face twisted in confusion and indignation. “Hang on a minute. You’re the one who told me to push her! You said to keep the pressure up, keep the buzz alive—your words, Noel.”

Your heart sank, a cold wave of betrayal crashing over you. “What? Noel… is that true?”

His heart thudded in his chest. “No, what? Don’t be daft. That’s not what I said at all,” he said quickly, turning to your manager, his expression indignant. “I said to keep her creative, yeah, to make sure she’s got opportunities, not to push her past the fuckin’ brink. Jesus, mate, where’s your head at?”

Your manager hesitated, glancing between you and Noel, his conviction faltering. “That’s not… that’s not what you said. I’m just doing what you—”

“I know what I said,” Noel cut him off, his voice calm but steely. “And it wasn’t this. Look at her, for fuck’s sake.”

You sat there, stunned and confused, the room spinning slightly. Noel had spoken to your manager? He’d been pulling strings? But as you watched him square off with your manager, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering with anger, you found yourself unsure of what to believe.

Your manager finally sighed, running a hand over his face. “Alright, fine. Maybe I went too far. But the fact remains, we still need new material. This isn’t a free ride.”

Noel waved him off dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, I know how it works. We’ll sort it, but not like this.”

Your manager muttered something under his breath and left the room, clearly annoyed but unwilling to push further.

The silence that followed was deafening. Noel turned to you, his expression softening as he took a step closer. “Hey, you alright?”

You stared at him, your chest tight. “You told him to pressure me?”

“No,” he said quickly, crouching down so he was at eye level with you. “Not like that. I told him to keep you in the spotlight, yeah, but not to be a bastard about it. I’d never… You’ve gotta believe me, love. That’s not what I wanted.”

You studied his face, searching for the truth in his eyes. “Why, Noel? Why did you even say owt to him at all?”

He hesitated, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. “’Cause I care about you, alright? I just… I wanted you to have a shot, to get the attention you deserve. I didn’t think it’d turn into this mess.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but you held them back, shaking your head. “You should’ve told me. You should’ve let me handle it.”

“I know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I fucked it, didn’t I? I just… I couldn’t stand the thought of you not makin’ it. You’re too good for that.”

You looked at him, his sincerity and regret etched into every line of his face. Despite everything, you felt a flicker of warmth, a small reminder of why you’d fallen for him in the first place.

“Promise me,” you said softly, “no more behind-the-scenes stuff. No more pulling strings without telling me.”

He nodded, his hand reaching out to take yours. “Promise. Cross me heart.”

For a moment, the tension eased. He squeezed your hand, and you allowed yourself to hold onto him, feeling a flicker of hope amid the chaos.

“Now,” he said, his voice lighter but still serious, “how about we blow this joint for the day? You don’t need this shit hangin’ over you right now.”

You hesitated but nodded after a while. Noel guided you out of the studio, his grip firm but gentle. The tension in the air between you was palpable, though neither of you spoke. His mind raced as he led you toward the park. He was relieved you hadn’t connected the dots back there—relieved that, for now, his secrets stayed buried. But he couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. You’d already been pushed so far, and it was his fault.

He stole a glance at you, the way your shoulders rose and fell with every breath, how you’d look up at the sky now and again, probably trying to center yourself. You didn’t deserve this mess, and he’d dragged you into it with both hands.

When you reached a quiet little corner of the park, shaded by a sprawling oak tree, he stopped. “Here,” he said, motioning to the bench.

You sat down slowly, glancing around. The late afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, casting golden patches across the grass. It was serene, calm—the exact opposite of the chaos you’d just escaped.

“This is nice,” you murmured, smoothing your hands over your knees. Then you looked at him, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “But why here? What’s the deal, Noel?”

He shrugged, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as he sat down beside you. “Thought you could do with a bit of air. That studio’s a bloody pressure cooker, innit? Always reckon it’s easier to think straight somewhere quiet.” He leaned back, trying to sound nonchalant, but his voice softened as he added, “You deserve a break, love.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “That’s... surprisingly thoughtful of you.”

“Oi,” he muttered, pretending to be offended, though a shy grin tugged at his mouth. “I can be thoughtful. Don’t spread it around, though, yeah?”

You laughed lightly, and Noel felt his chest ease, just a little. You reached into your bag, pulling out a notebook and a pen. “Alright, Mr. Thoughtful. Let’s see if this fresh air does the trick.”

He watched as you flipped to a fresh page, your pen scratching across the paper. He loved seeing you like this—focused, creating, totally in your element. Every now and then, you’d ask his opinion, and he’d throw out an idea or hum a melody, happy to help you shape something out of nothing.

Time passed in a comfortable rhythm. The sounds of the park faded into the background, leaving just the two of you, heads bent close as you worked together. Finally, you straightened up, a satisfied grin on your face as you slammed the notebook shut.

“Done,” you announced. “This one’s a keeper.”

“Yeah?” Noel reached out, his curiosity piqued. “Let’s have a butcher’s, then.”

You handed him the notebook, your heart racing a little as he opened it. He skimmed the lyrics at first, his brow furrowed in concentration. But then his reading slowed, his fingers tracing over the words.

It didn’t take long for him to figure it out.

The song was about him.

His chest tightened as he read a particular line: The first time I looked into your eyes, I knew I was done for.

Noel’s heart skipped, and he glanced up at you, his voice quieter than usual. “Is that true?”

You bit your lip, suddenly shy but refusing to look away. “Yeah. It’s true, I’ve had an eye on you for quite some time now.”

He stared at you, a rush of emotions crashing through him all at once. He felt touched, flattered—hell, he felt loved. But behind it all, there was a nagging pang of regret. If you’d felt this way all along, then everything he’d done to orchestrate this had been so unnecessary.

For once, words escaped him. He reached out instead, cupping your face with one hand, his thumb brushing softly along your cheekbone. “You really mean that?”

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his.

Something inside him cracked wide open. All the guilt, all the games—none of it mattered now. He wasn’t going to let himself muck this up any more than he already had.

“I love you,” he said, the words spilling out of him as if it were second nature. “I mean it, love. I do.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, he thought he’d scared you off. But then you smiled back at him. “I love you too, Noel.”

He let out a laugh—a real, breathless laugh—and then he kissed you. It was slow and warm, every ounce of his affection pouring into the way his lips moved against yours.

When you finally broke apart, you rested your forehead against his, grinning like a lovestruck idiot. “Well,” you said, your voice teasing. “That was unexpected.”

He smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “What can I say? You’ve turned me into a right sappy bastard.”

Noel leaned back slightly, his forehead still brushing yours as his hands settled on your waist. His smirk softened into something gentler, more serious. “Listen, love, I mean it—I’m gonna fix this, yeah? All of it. The pressure, the stress, everything. You deserve better than all that bollocks.”

You searched his eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity in those familiar blue depths. Your heart swelled as you nodded.

“With you by me side,” you said softly, “I know it’ll get better. And…” You took a deep breath, the corners of your lips lifting into a small smile. “I definitely don’t want to leave music behind now. Not when I’ve got you in my corner. Thank you, Noel. Really.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, as he let one hand trail up to cup your cheek. “What’re you thankin’ me for, eh? I’m the daft one who nearly mucked it all up. You’re the one who makes it worth stickin’ around for.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, swatting his shoulder lightly. “Oh, shut up, Gallagher. You’re gonna make me cry again.”

“Good,” he teased, grinning wide. “Means I’m doin’ summat right.”

Before you could say anything else, he leaned in and kissed you again, softer this time, savouring the moment. You kissed him back, both of you smiling against each other’s lips, giddy and stupidly happy in a way that made you feel like teenagers sneaking around.

When you pulled back, you were both grinning like fools. “We’re a right pair, aren’t we?” you said, your voice full of affection.

Noel agreed, his own laughter bubbling up. He pressed another quick kiss to your lips, unable to stop himself. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way, love.”

__________________________________________

finished it on a good note, gave the cheeky manipulator some heat but let him get away xx (brilliant gaslighting skills from him there)

hope you liked it since I had some requests for a continuation

love ya !!

[anistarrose]

complimentary beverages

The hairs on the back of Taako’s neck stand on end, as the shot glass clatters to the ground from Bane’s hand. Silverpoint shoots through the Captain’s bulging veins, bringing convulsions — and the man himself falls, landing right atop the shards of glass. As he goes still, a red glow engulfs his body, coalescing into what Taako can only describe as puppet strings —

And those strings extend into the air, weaving themselves into a glowing red robe.

So. This mission that won’t end has culminated in some ghost, or perhaps ghoul, coming between Taako and a multi-hour nap he’s frankly owed — now, that’s a horror story. Yet the laugh that escapes that Red Robe isn’t deep and booming, nor even a maniacal cackle — not ghostly or ghoulish at all. No, Taako’s almost tempted to call it familiar — because this ghost-slash-ghoul just laughs like a guy.

He sounds excited, and more than a little incredulous. He really just laughs like a pleasantly bewildered guy — and he spreads his cloaked arms like he’s delighted to see someone. As if he were an adoring fan, at a Sizzle it Up meet and greet — and speaking of horror, there’s a sickening thought, because Taako’s still wearing a flawless disguise and everything! He’s Mongoose Man right now! No one should even recognize him —

“Boys! You’re hangin’ in there, right?” the Red Robe exclaims, with audible recognition in his voice. His eyes light up, like cold, white flames — and he shoots Taako a skeletal finger gun, which is disconcerting for all the wrong reasons. “Love the mask, by the way, Taako. Great fuckin’ choice, love a good mongoose. But, uh — shit, you guys okay? Y’all stayed out of the —”

He glances down at Bane’s corpse, poisoned puddle and all. “The, uh — sorry, geez, the whole splash zone?”

Magnus lets his axe fall back to his side, and huffs with indignation. “Dude, I had it!”

“Kill steal!” Merle chimes in, pointing and laughing — and the Red Robe sheepishly rubs his neck.

(keep reading on ao3!)

[ohdorothea]

More information about the bracket here. Lyrics for both songs under the cut.

A playlist with all the songs from this round (except the unreleased songs) can be found on Spotify and Apple Music. Happy voting <3

ME! lyrics

I promise that you'll never find another like me

I know that I'm a handful baby, uh

I know I never think before I jump

And you're the kind of guy the ladies want

(And there's a lot of cool chicks out there)

I know that I went psycho on the phone

I never leave well enough alone

And trouble's gonna follow where I go

(And there's a lot of cool chicks out there)

But one of these things is not like the others

Like a rainbow with all of the colors

Baby doll, when it comes to a lover

I promise that you'll never find another like me-e-e-eh

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

I'm the only one of me

Baby, that's the fun of me-e-eh

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

You're the only one of you

Baby, that's the fun of you

And I promise that nobody's gonna love you like me-e-e-eh

I know I tend to make it about me

I know you never get just what you see

But I will never bore you, baby

(And there's a lot of lame guys out there)

And when we had that fight out in the rain

You ran after me and called my name

I never wanna see you walk away

(And there's a lot of lame guys out there)

'Cause one of these things is not like the others

Living in winter, I am your summer

Baby doll, when it comes to a lover

I promise that you'll never find another like me-e-e-eh

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

I'm the only one of me

Let me keep you company-e-e-eh

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

You're the only one of you

Baby, that's the fun of you

And I promise that nobody's gonna love you like me-e-e-eh

"Hey, kids.

Spelling is fun!"

Girl, there ain't no "I" in "team"

But you know there is a "me"

Strike the band up 1, 2, 3

I promise that you'll never find another like me

Girl, there ain't no "I" in "team"

But you know there is a "me"

And you can't spell "awesome" without "me"

I promise that you'll never find another like me-e-e-eh

Yeah, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

(And I want you, baby)

I'm the only one of me

(I'm the only one of me)

Baby, that's the fun of me-e-e-eh

(Baby, that's the fun of me)

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

You're the only one of you

Baby, that's the fun of you

And I promise that nobody's gonna love you like me-e-e-eh

Girl, there ain't no "I" in "team"

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

But you know there is a "me"

I'm the only one of me

Baby, that's the fun of me-e-e-eh

Strike the band up 1, 2, 3

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

You can't spell "awesome" without "me"

You're the only one of you

Baby, that's the fun of you

And I promise that nobody's gonna love you like me-e-e-eh

Electric Touch lyrics

Just breathe, just relax, it'll be okay

Just an hour 'til your car's in the driveway

Just the first time ever hangin' out with you tonight

I've got my money on things goin' badly

Got a history of stories ending sadly

Still hoping that the fire won't burn me

Just one time, just one time

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life

And I want you now, wanna need you forever

In the heat of your electric touch, mmm

I've been left in the rain lost and pining

I'm tryin' hard not to look like I'm trying

'Cause every time I tried hard for love, it fell apart (Woah)

I've gotten used to no one callin' my phone

I've grown accustomed to sleepin' alone

Still, I know that all it takes is to get it right

Just one time, just one time

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life

And I want you now, wanna need you forever

In the heat of your electric touch, mmm

I was thinking just one time (Just one time)

Maybe the stars align (Just one time)

And maybe I call you mine

And you won't need space

Or string me along while you decide

And just one time (Just one time)

Maybe the moment's right (The moment's right)

It's 8:05 and I see two headlights

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch (Ooh)

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life (Life)

And I want you now, wanna need you forever

In the heat of your electric touch, mmm

[alice-after-dark]

Deer Wife AU - Mimzy

Inspired by @hiemaldesirae's deer sinner Vox designs (1 | 2 | 3 | 4) and his Attic-Wife Vox AU

Vox meets Mimzy!

(Woke up early and brain went buzz and finished this instead of going back to sleep lol)

Unlike Rosie, Mimzy's visit is not planned.

Instead, the small woman appears at the door, proclaims she'd heard from Rosie about Alastor's new "squeeze," and demands to meet him.

"Well ain't you cute!" she exclaims, holiding his face in her hands. "Alastor, how'd you get your hands on such a cutie? He's way outta your league!"

Vox blushes and fidgets with his skirt. If anything, the opposite was true...

Alastor gently taps her arm with his cane. "Personal space, Mimzy dear. Vox is a nervous creature."

The singer gives him a sour look but nevertheless releases Vox, allowing him to straighten up as she circles him. "You really got yourself a little sheik, huh?"

A what now?

"Mimzy dear."

"Oh come on! Ya gotta let a girl know the details! How's the barney mugging?"

The what?

"That is hardly appropriate!"

They begin to bicker, their tone light and playful. Vox, on the other hand, hasn't the slightest clue as to what they are even talking about. Sheik? Barney mugging? He decides to ask Alastor later.

Somehow, Mimzy has managed to get Alastor into the kitchen, citing something about being a good host and fixing up some snacks and drinks. It's startling. Vox has never seen anyone push Alastor around the way this woman does.

"Now," Mimzy ushers him to sit on the couch and hops up beside him. "Don't you let him get away with nuthin', got it?" she says, oddly serious. "And if he ain't treatin' you right, you let me know and I'll straighten him out. Okie dokie, sweetheart?"

Vox blinks, surprised by the sudden shift. "I...yeah, okay...but I promise, he's been nothing but good to me."

"Good." The small woman crosses her arms and nods. "I expect nuthin' less from him." And then the seriousness is gone and she waggles her eyebrows at him as a sly grin slides across her face. "He better be treatin' you right in other ways too."

Vox's face goes bright red. "I-! No-I mean-! We're not-! We haven't-!"

Mimzy looks practically scandalized. "Are you serious?! Alastor!" Vox wails and hides in his hands as Alastor appears with a tray of snacks and drinks. Mimzy gestures wildly at Vox. "What's the big idea not sexin' up this cutie? Do you know how many mooks he could have eatin' outta his hand right now and you're leavin' him hangin'!"

Alastor sputters.

The sound is so alarming that it makes Vox look up. Alastor's face is bright red and his ears are back flat against his skull. His shadow is snickering behind him as Mimzy continues to lecture him.he is very pointed not looking at Vox. Vox feels his heart skip. Wait...does Alastor...want to...?

Alastor changes the subject. To what, Vox doesn't remember, but it successfully distracts Mimzy while Vox continues to have an existential crisis. Alastor wants to have sex with him. Alastor...wants to have sex...with him. Vox can barely string together any coherent thoughts for the rest of the afternoon.

"I do hope you'll forgive the dear woman," Alastor says as he does the dishs later. "She can be...excitable."

Vox sits at the table as he drinks the tea Alastor made him to calm his over socialized nerves. Alastor's shadow hovers around him like a mother hen.

"You're awfully quiet," Alastor says, still not facing him. "I suspect I know what you're thinking about." He sighs. "Mimzy can be a rather...forward individual. If she made you uncomfortable..."

"No!" Vox says quickly. Embarrassed by his own abruptness, he tries again. "I mean...no, what she said didn't...bother me. I just...do you? Want to do...that, I mean." Vox's ears are back and he knows his face must be bright red. He feels like a child, unable to even say the damn words properly. He's a grown man, dammit!

"Yes, I do." Vox nearly chokes on his tea. "However, I have no intention of taking advantage of you in the regard. I understand many Overlords and soul-owners would, but I will not force you to satisfy me in that way."

Vox swallows hard. "And...if I want to?"

Now Alastor turns to face him, eyes dark and searching. Vox holds his gaze. He fights the urge to look away like he normally would, flustered as he is. Alastor is looking for reassurance, affirmation that Vox is not saying this to just please him, but because he truly wants this. And Vox wants this. He has for a long time, he realizes. For how sweet and docile he has been for the past several months, Vox is a greedy thing. He knows this about himself and he wants every part of Alastor he can get his hands on. Literally and figuratively.

Alastor clears his throat. "I see." He dries his hands and moves closer. He takes Vox's chin in his hand and Vox's heart skips. Alastor rarely touches him beyond his hands or perhaps his shoulders. This touch forces Vox to keep his eyes on Alastor. The red deer grins down at him wickedly. "Have you ever had intercourse with a man?"

Vox shakes his head.

"Words, darling."

Vox's breath catches in his throat at the commanding tone. "N-no."

Alastor hums. "Well, we can address that later. If I'm going to have you, my dear, I intend to do it properly. You're not a two-cent whore. I've been...delicate with you since your arrival here, but I won't deny that there are many things I wish to do to you. My desires are not conventional, darling. If you are to accept a courtship from me, I need you to understand that."

Vox's mind goes blank. Courtship. Alastor wants to court him. The Radio Demon's hand moves from his chin to stroke the side of his face and Vox leans into the touch as his answer. Alastor kisses him then, slow and so deep that Vox swears he means to consume him.

Vox decides he's alright with that.

---

1920's Slang:

Sheik - A young sexy man

Barney mugging - Sex

Mook - An ineffectual, foolish, or contemptible person

[1427]

When the Levee Breaks (pt. 1)

Daryl Dixon x OFC

The one in which a stripper that used to know Merle and Daryl shows up at the Atlanta camp. Daryl’s feelings are complicated but mostly he hates her. Right?

Chapt. Setting: Atlanta camp

Chapt. Warnings: degrading and sexist language, season 1 Daryl, he’s not nice in this, probably won’t be for a while. 

Word count: 1600 

A/N : (aka authors warning) this is written in Daryl’s POV soOo idk. Probably not everyone’s bag. Maybe it’s no one’s bag. These first three chapters are kinda rough and I’m sorry but I can only proofread my own stuff so many times before I either post it or delete it forever.

masterlist

17+ mdni for the whole story

After stringin’ a few squirrels for dinner I figure I should get back to camp. ‘m breakin’ through the tree line, and that’s when I see her.  Beatle. Beatle, for the first time in… shit, who knows? Definitely years, I’m not exactly sure how many. Beatle, just fuckin’ sittin’ at my fire. Like somehow she knew it was mine and showed up just to take it from me. Just sittin’. Smile on her face like she belongs there. She doesn’t. She doesn’t belong at this camp, with these people. Shit, Beatle doesn’t even belong alive if I’m bein’ honest. 

No one in this fuckin’ camp can hunt worth a damn.  They’re gonna expect me to feed ‘em, ain’t they? Eventually. Eventually the food’ll run out and it’ll just be me feedin’ fuckin’ everyone. M’not doin’ it. I’m not doin’ shit for ‘em anymore. Why should I? Left my brother on that roof to rot. Naw, I’ll hunt for my damn self. Don’t even know why I’m still fuckin’ here. Should be out findin’ Merle. Honestly, don’t even know why I’m not.

Even before the dead started walkin’. I figured her days were numbered since the first fuckin’ time I met ‘er. Drunk as hell, eyes glassy, loud annoying voice barkin’ like a damn dog. Just yap yap yappin at Merle and me, tits half hangin’ outta her bikini top. Ones cinched in the string like she’d just forgotten to take ‘em out from her last time around the bar. A dumb drunk bitch, Beatle. Stupid fuckin’ stripper name. Who’s dick gets hard over a stripper named Beatle? 

I watch her, just for a second, checkin’ to see if maybe it’s not really her. But it is. ‘Course it fuckin’ is. 

Shane’s the first person I see that’s not doin’ anything, going through some clothes in a duffel bag in the back of a van, figure he might know, “Where the fuck did she come from?” Pointing toward Beatle, her back to us, fifty yards away. Stupid purple hair blowing all over the damn place. 

Shane looks to see who I’m pointing at, but who the fuck else is new at camp? His eyes finally land on Beatle before looking back at me like he’s trying to fight the smile on his damn face, “Why? You interested?”

I’m tryin’ not to lose my shit that she’s even fuckin’ here. “Nah…” I shake my head, “I know ‘er.”

Shane looks up, surprised maybe, and then not. Looking from Beatle back to me again, eyeing us up. “Yeah, makes sense.” 

I squint back at ‘im, “S’that supposed ta mean?” 

He shrugs, making a face, before smiling again, folding another shirt into his pack, “Just that you look like you might know eachother.” He doesn’t say more but I know what he’s not sayin. “Is all.” He adds on the end just to reiterate. 

He means we’re both fuckin redneck trash to anyone who looks at us. I look back over at her, startin’ to get real mad at this jarhead dickhead. Not for her or nothin’. Even if he’s right, he don’t gotta say it. Or maybe it was the way he said it. Or the way he didn’t say it. Like a fuckin’ pussy. 

A part of me feels like standin’ up for myself. Hell, a part of me feels like stickin’ up for Beatle. But, shit, it’s not even worth it.

I cough up a lougie and spit it close to his foot. “So where’d she come from?” I’m fuckin’ repeating myself. I hate fuckin’ repeating myself. 

“Think she just wandered in. Must’ve been lost in the woods or something. Ask Rick. He seems to know everything.”

Can’t keep myself from crackin’ at his petty comment. Always so fuckin’ loud with his contempt, makin’ the situation obvious to anyone with eyes. Messy. 

I decide I’m gonna ask ‘er. She’s gonna see me eventually. Better I approach her first, right? Don’t need to get football tackled in the middle of doin’ somethin’ else when she sees me for the first time. So I pull out a cigarette and start walkin’ over.

She’s talkin’ to Andrea. She fuckin’ would. Both of them loud dumb bitches. Talking about all the dumb shit they miss since everything’s turned to shit. Not talkin’ about people or nothin’ important. Just bullshit like getting your damn nails done, and eating fuckin’ ice cream. 

“Where’d you fuckin’ come from?” Sayin it louder than I meant. More aggressive than I thought my voice would sound. Usually fuckin’ is, though.  The laughing between Andrea and Beatle stops and they look over at me, just standing there waitin’ for it to register. Waitin’ for Beatles reaction. Starin’ ‘er the fuck down like she doesn’t fuckin’ belong here. She doesn’t. 

Beatles eyes light up, getting up from her chair and runnin’ over to me like she’s never been more excited to see someone in her whole damn life. I try to brace myself, but she still rocks me backward as she jumps on me, “Daryl!” Should have stopped her, could have moved just right out of the way. But nah, I let her. 

I don’t hug her back though, just push her off and let her own feet catch her. Dumb bitch doesn’t know personal boundaries. Her voice so close to my ear, “Damn, don’t look so happy to see me.”

Happy to see her? I’m not. Didn’t think I could be so unhappy to see a familiar face in my whole fuckin’ life. But she wasn’t letting that stop her, never fuckin’ did. “I was lost, found this camp. They said I could stay.” She explains, her voice high and happy and annoying as it ever was. At least she’s not drunk. 

Everyone around the fire had gone back to what they were doing. Not watchin’ us anymore. They could probably see as well as Shane that it was obvious how we knew eachother. Well, maybe not exactly how. But they probably had a good idea. 

I dunno what to say to her explanation, so I don’t say nothin’. And she just stands next to me, too close, clearly not gettin’ the hint that I didn’t really wanna talk to her. Just wanted to know why she was here. Now I know. She wasn’t gettin’ that she could and should just go back to her conversation with Andrea about ice skating, or cocktails, or what the fuck ever. 

“What about you?” Her voice quieter for fuckin’ once. 

I shake my head, blowing smoke out, “Merle and me, met up with everyone...” I don’t feel like explaining it, so I don’t. 

Beatle’s lookin’ up at me, her big eyes all wide and excited like a dumbass deer too stupid to move out of traffic, “Merle’s here?” 

This coil of disgust, I feel it snaring it’s way through my abdomen. Yeah, that’s the feeling Beatle usually gives me. Back like it never fuckin’ left. “Nah, not anymore. Sorry to dry your cunt.” 

Beatle says “Ew” fast. Like she’s so disgusted by my vocabulary. Like she isn’t just as crude, the things I heard that little mouth of hers say. 

“He’s not…” she means dead.

“Nah, hes not dead.” Usually this is where I talk something nice about Merle, about how he’s a tough sunuvabitch or some other shit. But not to Beatle. Beatle already knows, and for some reason talking about Merle with her makes me.. fuck… whatever. 

Glancing over, it looks like Beatle’s finally got the hint that I don’t wanna talk to her. She probably really was excited to see me, and I almost feel bad for a second. Before she puts her grubby fuckin’ hand in my face and asks if she can have a cigarette. Needy fuckin’ bitch. 

I laugh right in her face. At the gall of her. That at the end of it all, of everything; she was still trying to get some fuckin’ handout. “Naw.”

“Oh, come on, Daryl, please? I haven’t had one in days!” As if I give a shit what she has or hasn’t had. Hasn’t seen me in years and wants to ask for favors? 

I keep draggin’ on my cigarette, blowin’ the smoke out, and m’not smiling anymore, “I said naw. I don’t see your tits out, why would I give you anything?” Fuck repeating myself.

“You wanna see my tits?” She says it like it’s actually a question. Like she really fuckin’ believes that I’m askin’. 

“You’re a dumb bitch, Beatle, y’know tha’?” I shake my head at her, laughin’ at her again. She’s fuckin’ ridiculous.  Taking another drag I realize the cig is trash, and I almost throw the butt into the fire but decide to hand it to her instead. 

She takes it, with needy fingers like I knew she fuckin’ would. Trying to hide my smile at how fuckin’ pathetic she always seems to be.  Watching her take my trash like it’s fuckin’ gold. She drags it once, I can smell the filter burning and she throws it in the fire. “Next time maybe you’ll share one with me?” Her voice is so sweet it makes me sick. Like I didn’t just call her a dumb bitch to her face. 

Saccharine and fake, that’s how she’s always been. All her cute little movements and motions, all just tryin’ to work me up so I’ll share my smokes or listen to her dumbass whine about anything and everything. Annoying.

“Prolly not.” And I’m already walking away from the fire. From Beatle. Going back to my tent and praying to god, Jesus Christ, don’t let her follow. 

Chewin’ on what she said. Lost, huh? See? Didn’t even belong alive. 

pt 2

[valley-of-headcanons]

If I can request, you did the way the bachelorettes react to ex-stardom. I enjoyed it so much and would love to see it for the bachelors too?

I love your writings ;u; ♡

bachelors reacting to your ex-stardom || headcanons

being in the limelight was fun for a while, but settling down is definitely what you needed. but how would your partner react to your past? part one here!

warnings: nothing that i can see! :)

requested by: anon! hii, thank you so much for the request! this topic is pretty interesting, and i really enjoyed writing for everyone! be sure to check out part one, it adds a little more context and i think it's super duper cool and you're definitely missing out. anyway! hope you enjoy :)

alex

• You and Alex were on the beach, resting after tossing around the Gridball. He got on the topic of his dream of playing Gridball professionally, and how although he wanted to make it big and turn his passion into a profession, he wouldn't know what to do with himself. He's been such a shut-in these last few years, only really hanging out with you and his grandparents. The fame sounds so scary. But ... you knew that all too well. He didn't know that, though. Maybe it was time.

• You slowly told Alex that you knew a lot about being famous, before explaining who you were. “Wait- what?! Why didn't you tell me sooner?! I love your music! Genuinely, like I listen to it all the time ... I know it's not really the manliest choice and it's my guilty pleasure- not to say men shouldn't listen to your music! Oh my yoba- sorry- ... I love your music. That's what I'm trying to say. It's really really good.”

• As you explained why you left the limelight, Alex nodded understandingly. “Yeah, Gridball will always be a dream of mine, but the people I'd be around are probably not good. Maybe staying in the town isn't such a bad idea, huh? I don't think anyone could really beat hangin' with you, grandma, and grandpa.”

• Alex soon opened up about which of your songs was his favorite, and asked in depth about them. There were some that really spoke to him emotionally, and he had a really bad time dealing with that sort of stuff. The fact that you created something he relates to makes him happier than ever! He scored pretty good, if he says so himself.

• Regardless of your old fame, he's still deeply in love with you. He admires your talent, but that doesn't overshadow how you've helped him in his life since you've actually been in it. He will still listen to your music, but maybe a little more publicly. He wouldn't tell anyone unless you said it was okay, but he'd totally be bragging about you if he were allowed.

elliott

• Elliott was not having a great writing session. He invited you over, incredibly stumped with his latest novel. He was bouncing ideas off of you left and right, but nothing would stick! You mentioned that music could be an inspiration, and it was like a lightbulb smacked him in the forehead. He raced over to his stereo and turned on the radio. A cheese-y pop tune ... YOUR cheese-y pop tune. He was embarrassed over the pop playing and immediately turned it, but he did notice your expression and inquired.

• You explained that the song on the radio was a song that you wrote and sang yourself. He was startled at first. “I didn't know we had such a big star in our midst! Are those your lyrics as well? I didn't pin you as such a wonderful writer, but I am so grateful! Someone that shares my writing prowess! I knew some invisible string brought us together!”

• As you continue to explain your past and why you came out to Pelican Town, Elliott nods along, hearing your story. “I didn't realize how similar we are. I understand wanting to get away from it all, that's why I'm out here as well. I suppose you came here to get away from your work, and I came to get closer to it. How awfully poetic that is, don't you think?”

• He asked a lot of questions, really diving deep into your mind. Of course, he only asked if you were comfortable with it. He loved analyzing people's minds, especially if they were different from his own. He may or may not use some of these aspects of your life in his new novel. With your permission, of course. You've always been his biggest muse.

• Elliott is invested in your life, like any good partner should, and admires your creative talent. This only heightens his view of you, as you are an artist, just like him. Despite the different mediums, you two share a lot in common. He would love you regardless of this aspect, but this only draws you two closer.

harvey

• Harvey was giving you a check-up, which was a bit unethical now that you were dating, but eh. He's the only doctor in the town and he's very worried about your health. He noticed that you mentioned a previous injury when checking your knee reflexes. This injury has occurred in a rehearsal for one of your tours. You didn't want to lie to your sweet boyfriend, so you had to admit the truth.

• As he wrote on his clipboard your reasoning, he stopped for a moment. “Tour? Popstar? Is this one of your sarcastic comments that I'm not getting? ... oh, really? You've never mentioned that part of your life before. Please, if you want to open up about it, show me some of your work once we get home. I hate to admit, but I'm fairly curious,” he said with a soft, caring smile.

• When you two get home after the checkup, he starts to cook dinner. “Please, keep me company while I cook. If you'd like to share some stories ... well, only if you're comfortable with it, I know that you got away from fame for a reason, but ... I want to know that part of your life, just like I know this one. Indulge me, if you would, my love.”

• He tries his best to support this part of your life, even if he wasn't involved. He ends up purchasing a lot of your old music and keeping a collection, showing it as a sign of affection. He listens to it while he does household chores, humming along to your songs happily while you're away.

• Harvey didn't mind this aspect of your life. It was another thing that made you the person he loves. He listens to everything you say and pays attention, specifically to the parts of fame you enjoyed and didn't enjoy. He only asked about the stuff you liked, and allowed you to open up about the hard times on your own, when you were ready. He was incredibly careful about the whole thing, and wouldn't dare make you uncomfortable.

sam

• As you and Sam were relaxing in his room one day, he was fiddling with his guitar. He seemed super stumped, strumming random chords to try and make some sense. Nothing was working ... he eventually showed you something that sounds sort of functional? But this rhythm was VERY similar to a song you put out a long time ago. You let out a soft giggle, which left Sam confused. You had to explain now.

• You drop the fact that you were a popstar in a nonchalant manner, trying to make it not a huge deal. But it's Sam. Of course it's a big deal. “No. Fucking. WAY! You're kidding, you've gotta be fucking with me! And you didn't tell me?! For SHAME! As punishment, you've gotta tell me all about it and I will refuse to change the topic. Now SPILL!”

• You explained who you are and why you left everything behind, which Sam thought about for a moment. “Wow ... I never really bought about fame that way. That must've been a lot, and I really do get why you came all the way down here. I'm just glad you're here now, y'know? ... but if you do end up getting the itch to create some music again, with no strings attached to fame, I'm always here. I'd love to create somethin' sick with you.”

• Sam always asked questions about the parts of fame he didn't know much about. Did you go to any parties? Was this person actually chill or were they a dick? He was so curious and asked probably the weirdest questions imaginable, but they were refreshing. And if you weren't the first person Sam showed his music to before, you were now. He always asked for your approval, and asked how to improve. It was extremely sweet.

• Even though he was excited about everything you had presented to him, he tried his best to be respectful. If you asked him to stop, he would with a nod and a quick apology, giving you a small kiss before putting the topic to bed. He still loved you for you! This aspect about you is just so cool and interesting to him. He adores you regardless, and wouldn't trade the current version of you for anyone else.

sebastian

• Sebastian had just finished working for the day and needed to relax. He flopped down on his couch and pressed the button on his radio. The pop station came on, and he was about to turn it before you walked in. You were shocked to hear your own song playing, staring at him with wide eyes. He makes some sarcastic comments about how this is actually his music taste and you just don't understand him. He doesn't understand why you're so shocked, though.

• As you slowly drop the bomb, he lets out a little chuckle. “Hah. Funny. You can drop the act, I can tell you're fuckin' with me ... are you really a world renowned superstar with several albums with hundreds of chart toppers? Like I believe that! Why the hell would you choose Pelican Town of all places to live, huh? This is the type of town you need to run away from.”

• You eventually have to explain why you left, why that lifestyle really wasn't you. He's actually at a loss for words for a moment, before nodding. “I didn't expect that out of you, you really are full of surprises. Tell me more, if you wanna. I'd be willing to listen. If you don't wanna talk about all that shit though, it's fine. Whatever you wanna do,” he said with a welcoming smile.

• Your music was FAR from what Sebastian listened to commonly. His Radiohead collection can attest for that. But ... he decided to take a listen to your music. He's very picky usually, so this is a pretty good feat. He actually kind of enjoyed it, for once. Maybe you're leading him down the path of liking something that's not edgy. Hmm. That's nice.

• Sebastian found this part of you incredibly interesting, but he didn't ask many questions. If you wanted him to know, he would, and he respected that. He loves hearing you talk about anything that you're passionate about, or just hearing you talk in general. It's arguably one of his favorite past times.

shane

• You and Shane were sitting by the pier one night. This was Shane's safe spot, attempting not to start drinking again. You two spent several afternoons sitting under the glow of the stars with an old cassette player and some of Shane's favorite songs. One of these nights, he mentioned that his childhood dream was to be an actor, and how weird fame seemed. He would hate being famous ... and you did too. This would be a perfect time to drop this bomb.

• You mentioned your past to Shane, but he brushed it off. “Uh huh. And I'm actually a famous bowler but I fucked up my arm and now I'm destined to live the rest of my life in this little shit hole. Oh, my poor dreams. How sad,” he said, his dry humor biting with sarcasm. He noticed your facial expressions ... they weren't sarcastic. “... I'm sober right? You didn't spike my drink or somethin' and you're tryin' to fuck with me ... huh. Now that's a topic.”

• You explained everything, mainly about why you came back here. You figured Shane wouldn't really know much about who you were, that's not his type of music anyway. “Huh. Nice. I figured you were just some corporate big league who got tired of the white walls. A lot of things make a lot more sense, I guess. You're a lot more talented than I thought ... sorry, that was mean- let me rephrase ... you are talented. I really am tryin' to get better about that ...”

• Shane didn't ask much about it further, but would listen if you brought it up again. He ended up stumbling across your work ... it was way better than he imagined. Maybe because it was you. It was a source of comfort to him, and he often listened to your beautiful voice when he was in a dark time. It helped him through a lot.

• He didn't mind your past, you had a lot less skeletons in your closet than he did. He liked hearing your voice, so it was a win-win. He got this down-to-Earth side of you that he enjoys being around, but he can also listen to his star-studded partner whenever he wants. He wouldn't tell you that, though. That's his little secret.

[randomsporefacts]

if anyone needs it, i finally uploaded both my folder with every single maxis creation png sorted properly, as well as the spreadsheet with all of the spore creation names from final, AssembledContent and other stuff, to the spore discord, in the spore demo thread under general-1!

anyway. so we know the grox were called grob even fairly late in development, as their internal names mostly refer to them as grob (with rare exceptions)

in the strings from the cc demo

0x0000000B Our scouts have shown increased Grob activity in the sector of ~mission_target_planet~, which suggests they may have discovered intelligent life. Would you be interested in investigating ~mission_target_planet~ to discover if intelligent life exists there, and if it is in danger from the Grob?

0x00000014 Hey, did you see the gRob around here? Be careful of those guys.

0x00000071 MISSION OVERVIEW: Unfulfilled; Refused by Contractor. ~p~ STATEMENT OF IRRITATION: You suck Grobb eggs, buddy. Big time.

0x00000058 Awww… ~p~ C'mon, buddy. Don't leave us hangin, brah… ~p~ I thought you were cool! ~p~ Whatever!!! ~p~ I'm telling! I'm telling THE AWESOME AND MAJESTIC GROB on you!!!

0x00000001 Hey, Space-dude. You'd really be doing us a solid if you hauled rump to the ~mission_target_star~ system, and brought us back a sample of the ~mission_item~ plant from planet ~mission_target_planet~. We'd like, totally be your BFF if you did that. Totally. ~p~ You see, the Emperor's birthday is coming up, and the old coot is always talking about how the royal gardens are missing a ~mission_item~ plant. If I had one, It'd totally make the other gifts look like grob-dung! It'd be so awesome!

0x00000001 So… yeah… you've been hearing about the gRob? Some say they are pretty mean dudes. I heard they shot a guy in Reno once just to watch him die. Personally, I don't think they can be that bad. If you have some time, I'd love it if you could go find them and give me a report about 'em.

very inconsistent whether it was Grob or gRob (or Grobb, which seems to be the rarest but it appears a few times)

anyway my actual point is to talk about some of the early creation names

so you know knot the grawx right?

according to AssembledContent, which is also evident from how it sorts with its asset id in Spore_Content.package, its early name was, in fact, gRob! with this exact capitalization even

but the actual real grox have just been named grox

and, similarly, Oobergrowb was also named UberGroB (which is differently capitalized from gRob but whatever)

and that also suggests.. some kind of relation with the grox?

anyway i wonder if knot the grawx was literally one of the creatures they considered using for the grox before making the final appearance

i dont have the book (not the art of spore to be clear) with the grox concepts (because no one scanned that apparently???? if theres a scan let me know) so i cant verify if that was the case or not unfortunately

i have a screenshot saved of someone elses scan of just this one page but this is the only drastically different grox designs that i can see here

so nothing particularly like knot the grawx, besides its paints i guess