#i will not put that above them. i bet he’s done that shit before

[whatswrongwithblue]

Girl Talk

Part Two of my Imagines with Angel Dust.

“So Alastor, he’s like all . . .” Angel Dust made strange gestures with his hands above his head, his thumbs pressed to his hair and fingers splayed out, and you were fairly certain he was trying to mimic antlers growing. “. . . murder-y and shit right? Even if he’s at the hotel, you can’t expect us to believe he’s stopped doing all that.”

It was late at night and you and Angel were at the bar, keeping Husk company, and nursing a couple of cocktails.

Alastor had disappeared hours ago, which wasn’t unusual, but it was getting late. You weren’t letting yourself be worried just yet, he was the Radio Demon after all, and could certainly take care of himself. But you couldn’t help being a little on edge. Alastor always came home but still. He could give you an idea of where he had gone off to and what he was doing when he took off like this.

“Why, are you going to tattle to Charlie if I say he is?” you said, a little too defensively.

“Hey, I ain’t no rat,” Angel said, also defensive. “I’m just trying to figure the guy out.”

“He’s still the Radio Demon,” you respond vaguely.

“Oh well that tells me everything.” Angel rolled his eyes.

Husk chuckled, wiping a glass dry.  

“He’s a serial killer and a cannibal. The day that guy stops doing all that is the day I’ll stop drinking and gambling.”

You scowl over the rim of your cocktail.

“You make him sound like a monster when you say it like that.”

Husk raised an eyebrow at you.

“Excuse me if I ain’t your boytoy’s number one fan. ‘Sides, not like anything I said wasn’t true.”

“Hey, he’s not out their killing all willy nilly, right?” Angel offered. “I mean, I pissed him off the other day and he let me go. Val woulda done way worse. So that means he’s got a type, I’m assuming? Like a uh . . . a demographic . . . of people he kills. If you ain’t that, he’ll still be creepy and fucking weird, but you’re probably safe.”

“Probably,” you smirk.

“Whatever,” Husk said with a grumble, and threw his towel over his shoulder, turning his back on the two of you.

“So, about those tentacles-“

“No,” you snapped, cutting off Angel’s sentence before it could be finished.

“Oh come on! You can’t leave me hanging like that!”

You just rolled your eyes and sighed, taking another sip of your drink.

“Oh . . . hanging, now there’s a thought,” Angel pressed on. “So suspensory play, huh? I bet those are really fun for that. Just how talented is the guy with those things? Because I bet with some practice, you could even use them for some interesting kind of Shibari. Or is he unimaginative and just shoves them right up your-“

“Angel, seriously, did you not learn your lesson last time?”

“Oh I learned my lesson all right. I learned how hot it is. So c’mon, admit it,” he teased, leaning closer to you, “you guys are into bondage.”

You laughed, unable to hide the sly smile on your face, but said nothing.

“I guess it makes sense,” Angel continued, “the guy does own souls. He’s probably gotta have that type of control in the bedroom.”

“You just go ahead and let your imagination run wild, my friend,” you said with a giggle.

“Baby, my imagination can run marathons,” Angel bragged. Then suddenly, he turned serious and looked over at you. “Wait, does he own your soul?”

Husk turned around and both men were now looking at you. Knowing both of their predicaments, you almost felt bad for your answer.

“No,” you said quietly.

“NO?!” Angel yelled, slapping his hand down on the bar counter.

‘No,” you repeated.

“But . . . but, that’s what he does. I mean, he even owns Niffty’s soul. So why are you with him-“

“Angel,” you interrupted, putting your hand on his arm. “I’m with him because I love him. Because I choose to be.” You said your words firmly, making sure your point was crystal clear. “And anyway, Alastor’s not the type to sleep with a soul he owns. It’s hard to explain his twisted moral code but he would think that was rude . . . or abusive . . . or just trashy. No offense.”

You knew about Angel’s forced and strained deal with Valentino and felt awkward, exposing the stark differences between your relationship and theirs.

“If I was making him sound like a monster, you’re making him sound like a fucking angel,” Husk said.

“Fair,” you agreed. “So, he’s complicated. But so am I.”

“So you really are into monster fucking. Got it,” Angel said, sounding deadly serious but when you looked at him, you saw the hint of a smile beginning to spread across his face.

“Wellllll,” you said, drawing out the word and giving Angel a side eye, “sometimes he has to blow off some steam. And those antlers are great for holding onto for balance.”

Angel choked on the drink he was taking a sip from.

“Now we’re talking,” Angel replied, eagerly leaning towards you again.

You held up a finger, stopping Angel from invading your space anymore. “That’s more than enough information for now.”

“Let me get this straight. He’s got the tentacles, he’s got the antlers,” Angel listed, holding up a finger for each item on his list. He held up a third finger, looking at you and tilting his head expectantly. “Say, you ever have a threesome with his shadow?”

You felt your face heating up, desperately trying to keep your composure and think of a witty response that wouldn’t give anything more away than your expression was, when thankfully you were saved by the front doors of the hotel slamming open.

Alastor walked in, his usual confident walk more of an exhausted shuffle, and he was covered head to toe in blood and the occasional clump or string of viscera.

“Holy shit buddy,” Angel exclaimed, “looks like you bit off more than you can chew.”

“I’m fine,” Alastor huffed and waved his hand dismissively. “Splendid, really. Just need some cleaning up.”

“Do you need any help?” you asked, sounding more flirty than concerned.

“Down girl,” Alastor replied and tapped you on the head with his microphone as he strode past you. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”

He evaporated into shadow as he reached the staircase.

“If he could just do that, then why’d he have to make a show of walking through the front doors?” Angel complained, “He left bloody footprints all over the lobby!”

“That’s Al’ for you,” Husk said, “Always gotta be dramatic.”

You sat in silence, ignoring the two men’s banter and you gripped the glass of your cocktail, staring at it as if it had your entire focus.

A few moments went by where no one said anything and the lull in conversation became awkward.

“You don’t have to stay down here, you know,” Angel offered. “I can tell you want to go sexually attack him.”

You nodded. “I need to go lick every inch of that man clean,” you said and headed upstairs.

Part 3

[ryndicate]

Double Down ⨳ Yoshida, Denji

“Didn’t know you were into that stuff.”

warnings: fem body/pronouns, nudes posted without permission, drug use, exhibition, creampie, videos taken with permission, stepcest, infidelity, masturbation, handjob, some spit mentions, premature ejac, implied fuckery, implied theft, if there's more i am just too wacked out to see it so lemme know!

event: @bastardblvd 's slimeball alley collab !! my first submission of who knows how many to come, im gonna try to not go crazy with it, promise

notes: didn't realize until it was done that I could've made it much more slimy but its okay. We'll get 'em next time babes 😩 this idea is expanding on a little blurb I put in cassie's inbox once, i included it in the fic itself with some itty bitty changes

By expanding, you are consenting to viewing adult/dark content, and all warnings listed above. 18+ Minors DNI

Blog Rules/DNI

Your fist slams on the bathroom door. “I swear to god, Denji! Where the fuck did you get those! Delete them now!”

“I already told you, Power found them online!” Your stepbrother yells back through the door, keeping his weight against the handle so that you can’t force your way in.

“You’re full of shit you fucking perv! You took them off my phone or something.”

“Wanna fucking bet? The real perv is that prettyboy bastard you call baby,” Denji sneers back, yelping as you get a good shove in on the creaking wood.

Your efforts to break the bathroom door pause. “The hell’re you talking about?”

“I told you he was trouble the day you two met. What—you think I was lying?”

You growl under your breath at the barenecked taunt in Denji’s voice. Yeah he told you, one time before he got high out of his mind. The only reason you even met Yoshida Hirofumi was because he hooked your stepbrother up a couple times, and you begged to tag along once. That situation ended with your brother counting stars on his buddy’s ceiling while you saw them on the backs of your eyelids with the guy’s lips wrapped around your clit. 

One thing led to another, and that “prettyboy bastard” became your boyfriend. He’s a bit of an ass, but Yoshida’s also sweet and funny, doesn’t roll his eyes at your music choices, doesn’t bat an eye when you want to go out with your friends, and is full of sexy, smirky sass that makes him so fun to be around. Sure, you sent him some photos, but he wouldn’t have put them out anywhere.

Your anger deflates, but your indignance does not. You step away from the bathroom door. “He’s got nothing to do with this.”

Denji throws the door open with a toothy grin, repeating himself. “You wanna bet?”

“You know what, yeah!” you snap at him, crossing your arms as he leans in the doorway, still looking smug. 

“Your boyfriend put your pics up on OnlyFans, and he’s using the money to pay for his xanny. If I’m right, you two gotta upload a video. Together,” Denji states, his eyebrows furrowed in twisted delight that makes you sneer at him.

“You’re disgusting!”

“Yeah? Tell me what you get if you win.”

Caught up in his childish bullshit, you push at his shoulder. “You gotta start an OnlyFans if you’re wrong, which you are. And you gotta wear lingerie.”

His smirk full drops at that, and he glares at you, cheeks darkerning. “Now who’s a perv.”

“This whole shit was your idea!”

“Lingerie?”

“How is wearing lingerie worse than telling your stepsister to fuck and post a video about it?!”

“Shut up!”

“And since we’re on the topic, I swear to god if you don’t stop taking my shit out of the laundry I’m gonna tell that redheaded lady at the DMV that she’s at the very top of your fap list.”

His blush deepens and he palms your face backwards in a light push. “The fuck she is. Shut up.”

“Yeah well, me and the thin fucking walls in this apartment would have to disagree.”

“Go find your boyfriend.”

“‘M gonna.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck him,” you hiss in barely supressed rage, gripping your boyfriend’s phone so tight you’re disappointed when it doesn’t crack. 

You’d waited for his high to hit him and let him drift off before going through his phone—what’s the point of asking him outright if it’s not true, right? No reason to stir the pot. But your stomach had dropped with unease when the account site was in his search history; you tried to brush it off as maybe he gets off to a set of camgirls, but the moment you saw the login info presaved—as in frequent entry—you began to forget the bet altogether.

Now your jaw is clenched, seething as you scroll through every racy picture you ever sent him. Each have thousands of views, hundreds of comments and jeez—so many subscribers. The heat of betrayal simmers through you. Your jaw drops at the total that’s set to drop into his account at the end of the week and resist the urge to slap Yoshida awake, but instead you set about trying to change the banking and login info, only to get halted by an infowall. Frustrated, you slip off the bed and call your stepbrother, edging into Yoshida’s bathroom so you don’t wake him up.

“You were right, and you fucking knew it, didn’t you? You set me up.” you hiss into the device as soon as he picks up with a mumbled ‘sup. You can hear voices and music in the background, paired with light explosions. You assume he’s out with his friends, probably gaming like usual. 

“You didn’t have to agree. Wait—” there’s the sound of the phone moving around and suddenly the music is gone. “Does that mean you’re gonna do it?”

“That’s besides the point, Denji!”

“Oh fuck, you are!”

“Chill your boner,” you snap, “‘m not gonna do it unless you help me!”

“Help you? What, like you want me to hold the camera or something?”

“Denji, I swear to god—”

“I’m kidding, jeez.”

“I can’t change the account info. They’re my pictures, and they’re already out there! He shouldn’t get to make money off of me.”

“Wait, so you want to keep the account?” He asks curiously. You hear a door slamming and wonder if he’s still moving, or if his friends are.

“Dude, we’ll have rent and anything else covered for the whole month with a single week’s drop from this thing. I don’t see a reason not to. I can quit Mcdonald’s!”

“Shit, for real? Lemme talk to Denki, ‘m pretty sure he knows a guy.”

“Thank you,” you coo into the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, just make sure you pay up.” You can hear his pervy smile, and you grumble a sulky fine at him.

“Ok. But he’s gotta do it soon. It pays out in a couple of days.”

“I’ll give him some cash to see if he can do it tonight. Don’t see why he’d say no—" Denji sounds a lot further away from the phone now, "—Oi! Don't bro! Give it back."

A familiar voice purrs into the receiver and you roll your eyes. "Heyyy, princess. You with that Yoshida guy still or are we allowed to hang now?"

"Byeee, Kiri. Tell Kat hi f'me." You hang up with a smile and leave the bathroom, glaring at your supposed boyfriend still sleeping. You never heard him say he was working and you always kinda wondered where he was getting his cash, but you always just thought he was dealing or something. Not the kind of think you ask about. You obviously should’ve asked.

You crawl into his lap and begin sucking on his exposed throat, admiring the sharp lines, the bob of his adam’s apple as thick lashes flutter open. 

“Mmm,” Yoshida moans. “Damn, was I out long?”

“Nah,” you hum, slipping your fingers up his shirt, smoothing over his waistline. “Got bored without you, that’s all.”

“Yeah, baby?” He grins up at you, dark eyes fuzzed out and sultry, and his hands come up to settle on your hips, easing you into a slow grind. “Wanna do something?”

“Mm. Maybe,” you tease softly, pushing his shirt up his chest and leaning down to wrap your lips around his nipples. He groans at the warm, slick suction, arching into your touch. 

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes out, his cock swelling beneath you. 

“Maybe I wanna do something…different.”

Yoshida grins up at you, half-lidded. “Yeah? Like what?”

Your nails make pink lines down his chest as you lean in to whisper in his ear. “What if you fucked me, and we let some people watch?”

His fingers dig into the fat of your waist, his dick thumping beneath you. “Anyone I know?”

Yoshida’s pupils have overtaken his coal irises, and you give him an inviting smile. “No one specific. I was thinking more like…a video or something. I wanna be able to see it later.”

“Holy fuck, baby. That’s sexy,” Yoshida grins up at you. “Didn’t know you were into that stuff.”

“Me either,” you breath softly, rocking yourself over his covered erection.

You’re left to yelp as he displaces you from your seat on his lap and pulls you out of the bed by your wrist with a wide smirk. “Come on.”

“Wait, where are we going?”

“Don’t worry baby, I just wanna pick something up at the Malmart first.”

“Fine, I guess,” you pout at him and his smirk only grows.

“‘S okay, baby. I’ll give you something too.”

“This is not what I meant when I said video, Hirofumi!” you gasp out. Your fingers are splayed out on the hood of his car as you try to stay upright. “Someone could actually see us!”

"If you don't wanna be seen, you gotta cum. Cause I'm not stopping til you cum."

"Fuck, fuck please, just hurry up!" You plead, half your words caught between whines and whimpers as he pounds into you from behind, your skirt flipped over your back.

"You think I'm not fucking you like I mean it?" There's so much smile in his voice that you want to call him on his bullshit for once, but the solid smacking of his hips into yours, the head of his dick pressing as deep as it can go with every thrust quickly makes you forget what you're snapping at him for.

"Just‐just, fucking make cum– ‘fumi!" You're desperately telling yourself you don't want to be seen. It's the middle of the night, so even here, parked under the one of the many lightposts that don’t work in grimetown's 24-hour walmart parking lot, the risk of anyone seeing is slim.

But not zero. Especially with the light from his phone camera shining down on your exposed lower half. You’re like a slutty beacon for whoever might be looking this way.

"I'm working on it baby, you gotta relax." His fingers slide around your waist, brushing past your clit and forcing a frustrated whimper past your lips at the neglect, to drag them through the slick dripping obscenely from your pussy lips. It's dripping to the rusted black hood, making it glisten. He aims the camera down at them before moving it back to the way your pussy clings to his cock. "You're so fucking wet for this, you'd think the whole thing was your idea. Well, most of it was."

You don't answer him, trying to work yourself back on him, chasing that fluttering heat twisting itself tighter and tigher with each passing second.

"Good girl, look at you. Fuck, look how bad you want—"

"Oi! Get the fuck out of here before I—"

Your whole body locks up at the tired but authoritative voice that rings across the lot.

Your boyfriend calls back. "C'mon man, have a heart. Let me finish her off and I'll give you a look." Except his last syllable staggers off with a groan, broken with a laugh as his grip on your hips tightens to a bruising pressure. The vice grip of your cunt has him looking down to sees your juices gush around the girth of his cock, dripping down your thighs to dirty the hood of his car even more. The sight pushes pushes him over and he calls out again, his voice tight but smug.

"Nevermind, we're done here."

He gets one last shot of his cum dripping out of you before closing out the livefeed.

“It’s like four in the morning,” Denji grumbles, rubbing one of his eyes as he cracks his bedroom open further at the sight of you. “Thought you were Power or somethin’, jeez.”

Denji blinks the blur from his eyes, zeroing in on your screen, and you just about hear his pupils expanding. He pulls a shaky inhale and you roll your eyes.

“Done. Bet over, and here’s your damn proof,” you grumble right back, slamming your phone against his chest and shoving your way into his bedroom to flop down into his bed. It had taken over an hour to convince Yoshida back to his place and get him to fool around enough for him to pass out and you to sneak back home.

"Also Kiri wants you to call him back. He's mad you hung up on him."

A small grin curls your lips but you don't respond, wiggling deeper into his mattress until you're comfortable.

He throws himself down in the bed next to you. “Turn on my speakers.” 

“Or you could just wear headphones, you freak.”

“Nah. Turn ‘em on.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you stretch out to reach up to his desk, turning on the bluetooth speakers that he usually uses to be a nuisance when he’s smoking. “If your dad was home, I’d kill you for this.”

“You’re not even breaking up with him, are you?” Denji chortles, ignoring your bickering. His eyes are glued to the screen as he shoves a hand into his loosened shorts. “What the fuck, you guys were outside?”

You shrug. The video’s only been up for a couple hours and it already has triple the views and donations of all the photos Yoshida has put up so far. “Looks like he’s gonna be making me lots of money, so why not? It’s the least he could do to pay me back.”

Your stepbrother doesn’t answer you, his breathing getting heavier. You close your eyes and sigh as the sounds wet sounds and your own whiny moaning starts bouncing off the walls of his room, wondering to yourself if you really sound like that or if part of you was exaggerating because of the camera. The mattress creaks every now and then as his hips jump, his arm brushing your side as he grinds into his own fist. 

You roll to face him, taking in the sound of his stuttered breaths, the muted slick sound of his fist pumping in his shorts. “So what about this gets you so riled up?”

Denji groans, stomach rippling where his shirt is pulled up around his midsection. “I’nno, it’s hot, isn’t it?”

You keep prodding, “What is? Yoshida? Or me?”

He gives a small whine that has your pulse picking up in sick interest, so you continue. “Was Power really the one to find it? Or…you were subbed to the account, weren’t you Denji?”

“Mm- maybe?”

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself, listening to your own voice begging to cum, shifting your weight onto your arm so you can look at him. A strange curiosity has taken over your body. He looks wrecked but his eyes are still on the screen. “Denji, look at me.”

Your body tingles as his eyes tear towards you, but he’s still got a hand around himself, hidden from your eyes. “Can I touch it?”

“You wanna what?” he moans, just barely, teeth digging into his lip.

“Can I jerk you off?”

You’re a little surprised when he actually hesitates. You’ve tolerated it all this time; as much as he pervs out on you, and your stuff, yet somehow he’s got a little crumb of morality left in there somewhere. And right now…you wanna kill it.

“My panties, my pictures…is this really any different?” you ask softly, sweetly, as you run with this electric current, placing your hand over his covered groin. You grin as his hand immediately goes slack at your touch and slips out of his shorts, and you get to feel for the first time how hard he is, rubbing over the smooth fabric, feeling out the shape of him.

“I mean…I guess not.” He sucks in a breath as you grip him over his shorts and give a couple experimental strokes. “B-but what about—?”

Denji’s head drops back to the pillows with a groan, phone in a death grip as you tug his waistband down, his dick slapping free. It’s pretty and slender, flushed deep red.

“What about what?”

“What about prettyboy, huh?” He finally gets it out as you spit in your hand and take him up again, stroking him steadily from base to tip, squeezing at the top with a gentle twist of your wrist. Yoshida always seemed to like it, seems like he does too. 

“That’s what you’re worried about? Not the whole stepsister thing?” You shrug. You’re still stung about Yoshida’s betrayal, so this feels like a little bit of retribution. A little bit. You still need to find more ways to make him pay first, but this is a good start. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend, but ‘s not like you and me are dating, Denji. It’s a handjob. What’re you gonna do, marry me?”

Denji splutters and his dick throbs in your hand. “Don- Don’t say stupid shit!”

You coo at him and his lips part, panting hard as you work him faster. 

“What– haa, what if it wasn’t just a handjob? What then?” Denji gives a low moan as you settle over his lower thighs so you can gently cup his balls. They seem to tighten under your touch, before he relaxes and he tries to look at you. 

“What, like my mouth or something?” you ask playfully, leaning over and showing him your tongue, letting a strand of spit drip down to his dick.

A litany of curses tumblr from his mouth as Denji squeezes his eyes shut, fingers twisting into the pillow beneath his head as his cock jerks and shoots a load of hot sticky white into your palm, getting smeared down his throbbing shaft as you slowly work him through his high until only a couple dribbles get pressed out by a final pass of your thumb over his slit.

“Wasn’t expecting you to finish already.” You wipe your hand off on his comforter and try to ignore the throbbing in your panties. You feel like you can still imagine the slick from earlier tonight seeping out of you, but it’s as if it’s no longer enough.

“Holy fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as he calms his breathing enough to raise himself up on his forearms. He watches you as you take your phone and flop down next to him. “I didn’t even get to see the rest of the video.”

“It’s online now, freak. You can watch it whenever.”

“Yeah...” 

You’re too busy trying to go through the account settings to notice the way he’s eyeing up your thighs; he hasn’t even put his dick away yet. 

“Hey,” he mutters softly, ignoring your glare when he puts a hand on your thighs and pulls them open. “If you can touch me, does that mean I get to touch you?”

Your pulse jumps and you try to keep your true thoughts hidden as you hide back behind your phone. “I guess that’s fair. If you wanted to.”

You can hear the click of Denji’s throat as he swallows, and you can’t stop the low whimper as his calloused fingers brush your inner thigh, right at the edge of your panties. 

They’re warm as they brush over the seat of your panties, timid but curious as they explore the surface, stroking over the tempting warmth and wet seeping through the thin fabric. A bolt of pleasure bursts and has your gut clenching as he swirls over your clothed clit

“H-hey, wait,” you say suddenly, nerves getting the better of you as you try to make sense of Denji taking control of your body. “It got switch but this isn’t my banking info. Is it yours?” You flip the screen towards him, and his brown eyes squint in the pale blue light.

“Uh, nah, that’s not mine.”

You mewl as he pulls your panties to the side and traces a finger through your folds, delicate, hungry. “Who did you say– mm, h-hacked the account for me?”

“I told you. M’friend Denki, his buddy did it. That purple-haired guy who works at the smoke shop.”

“The one wi—” you suck in a breath as he sinks his index finger into you. “With the tattoos?”

“Yeah him,” Denji mumbles, hardly paying attention to your words. He’s grinding against the bed as he pushes his middle in alongside it, imagining the tight squeeze around his dick instead.

Your groan is part pleasure, part dismay as you realize just who he’s talking about. “Oh fuck me.”

Denji bullies his way between your thighs in an instant.

“N-no, Den– that’s not what I meant!”

[elderflower2000]

Neteyam x (f)reader.

ummmmm hi! I would like to say a huge thank you to everyone who liked my first ever fan fiction!! I’m not sure if it was actually good or if all my Neteyam girlies are just STARVING for content.

(also, I write these on my phone so I apologise for rubbish formatting)

- - - - - - - -

Lo’ak challenges you to a race climbing one of the hallelujah mountains. Things do not go to plan, Neteyam has to step in to so you don’t die.

- - - - - - - -

Splashes of water drip down upon your brow, the Hallelujah Mountains floating high above you as your arms ache violently from trying to pull yourself up on a thin vine.

“Just admit that you’re tired!” Lo’ak shouts at you from above, Lo’ak looks at you with glee knowing that he has already won the bet which was construed just an hour earlier. The pair of you had been messing around while supposedly doing chores when Lo’ak challenged you to a race but no ordinary race.

“I bet I can climb to that point faster than you can.” Lo’ak had said in which you scoffed.

“Lo’ak, you overestimate my desire to win.” You had said so confidentially but now here you were Lo’ak standing on the safety of the ledge, you struggling to pull yourself up the vine any further. Your muscles ache violently as you could feel your grip getting looser on the vine.

“Hey, Are you okay?” Lo’ak asks you from above as his concern starts to grow, you were normally so fast, so strong and agile. The younger Sully brother had never seen you struggle once but now you were barely able to pull yourself up the vine just 5 metres more.

“I’m fine!” You snap harshly at Lo’ak as your grip tightens around the vine but the sweat on your palms makes it feel impossible to get a sturdy grip. Lo’ak looks down nervously not knowing if he should step in and save you or spare your pride. He didn’t have time to decide as the mixture of sweat and water dripping from the mountains causing your grip to finally falter. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You shout the sky people swear word Neteyam had taught you. You dangle from the very end of the vine, your feet dangling dangerously free while your hands grip tightly at the minimal amount of vine left.

“Shit!” Lo’ak shouted from above as he made the high-pitched throat noise to call his Ikran. “Dude! Hold on!” The situation wasn’t looking hopeful and as you look down seeing nothing but open sky you start to feel panic rise within you.

*Neteyam POV*

“Tuk, Where is (y/n)? She was supposed to be doing chores with Lo’ak but no one has seen them.” Neteyam asks his baby sister who had an incredibly guilty look her her face. “Just tell me Tuk otherwise I’ll tell Mom what really happened to her arrows” Neteyam was no stranger to using threats against his siblings when it came to your safety.

“Her and Lo’ak are racing to the highest point on the mountain!” Tuk shouts at her eldest brother “Please don’t tell Mom it was me, she will kill me.” The baby of the family said to her brother but Neteyam frowned.

“That shxawng!” Neteyam spat in regards to his brother. How could he have done that to his brother? Putting the woman he loved in such peril made the future leaders blood boil. Neteyam called his Ikran running towards it linking the bond before mentally commanding it to fly.

*your pov*

“For fuck sake Lo’ak! Help me!” You snap harshly as one of your hands slipped from the vine. Lo’ak looks around helpless as he can’t lower himself onto the vine in case it might snap. Lo’ak only real choice was to call for his Ikran but it must’ve been unable to hear him this high into the mountain.

“Lo’ak do something I’m going to sl-“ You weren’t able to finish your sentence as your hand slipped from the vine. You watched as Lo’ak roared your name reaching out a hand which would could not catch you. As you plummet to certain death you feel a certain clarity, you would be with Ewya soon and there would be nothing to fear. No! You hadn’t had enough time yet, not enough time to play with friends, not enough time to tell your mother how much you really loved her, not enough time to tell Neteyam just how much you really loved him. You were not ready to die but it seemed that the great mother had different plans for you.

*Neteyam’s pov*

I could see her, dangling from a vine. I was about to call out, call her an idiot, perhaps even make fun of her but then her hand slipped and my girl went plummeting towards Pandora’s earth.

“(y/n)!” I roared feeling nothing but pure madness and drive to save her. I push my Ikran into a full dive hoping to get under her but she was falling too fast. I push myself further down trying to get closer to her. If I could just grab a limb I could pull her to me.

I push my Ikran to descend faster and that’s when she reaches out her arm, our hands interlink and I violently pull her onto my Ikran.

*your pov*

He’d done it, your Neteyam had arrived just at the right time seeing you fall. He’d pushed his Ikran so hard that he almost perished with you but now you sat up his Ikran arms wrapped around his waist.

He hasn’t uttered a single word to you but as soon as his feet were on solid ground he pulled you towards him “Do you know how much you scared me?! I thought you were going to die!” He snapped running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry! It was an accident I never intended to fall!” You say to him but Neteyam still feels the great shock of seeing you, the love of his life, his mate, his soul bond, his EVERYTHING falling straight down towards her death.

“It does not matter that you didn’t intend it to happen! It’s that it happened! You could’ve die (y/n) and I would’ve been left here without you! How could I have lived a life without you?” He sounded defeated taking a seat on the floor.

Your heart falters taking a seat next to him. “My Neteyam, I am sorry. I did not think of your feelings how risking my life may affect you. I have been reckless and I am sorry my love.” You say and Neteyam smiled softly at your pet name for him.

“My (y/n), please never scare me life that again.” Neteyam spoke in soft whispers as you pressed your foreheads together.

“I promise.” You say taking his hand in yours. You both sit in silence just enjoying the moments of silence.

“Yo! You okay (y/n)?” Lo’ak casually says walking in on the intimate moment.

“You schxwang!” Neteyam roars standing up and immediately punching his brother straight in the nose “Never put my mate in that situation ever again!” He continued to shouted as Lo’ak rolled around the floor clutching his nose.

You couldn’t help but crack a small smile as you took Neteyam’s hand and guided him out his home to go and complete both your chores for the day leaving Lo’ak to his nose.

[breadbrobin]

the bet

part two

cedric diggory x reader — harry potter

[fem!best friend reader]

summary: the summer is going well. you’re not in love with cedric, and you’re so gonna win this bet. totally. right?

warnings: quite a lot of swearing, betting/gambling, underage drinking, cringey flirting (PLS i wrote this years ago), GOD they’re so in love it’s stupid, minor character death (sort of???), i think i’m a comedian (i’m not), switched from an x oc story so might have a few mistakes oops, mediocre writing (again i wrote this years ago and this is the worst part i think)

word count: 2.7k

(ok first of all tyyyy for the love on the first part i can’t wait for y’all to read part three! there is just one more part after this and it’s the best one imo)

part one

part three

——————————————

The Flowers

Cedric was splayed out on your bed. One of his feet hung off near your head and you was infinitely glad for his quality hygiene.

You were reading the Wizard of Oz again, and he was dutifully drawing something that he refused to show you.

“Okay,” he finally said. “I’m done.”

You finished your page and slipped the bookmark in, turning to him. “Can I see?”

“No, I drew this for you but you’re never allowed to look at it.” he teased, straight faced.

“Never?”

“Never.” He broke into a smile and shoved the sketch pad in your face.

It was a… Well, you weren’t exactly sure what it was. There was some interesting shading, a tuft of what could either be grass or hair and a strange egg shaped blob in the middle.

You hoped your face didn’t show your emotions as you quickly schooled your features into a smile. “It’s great, Ced.”

He had a wide grin plastered on his face as he nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I know. Now turn the page.”

You did as he said and blinked in shock, your jaw dropping. “There is no way you drew this.”

“I’ve been practising.”

“Have you been taking classes from freaking Van Gogh in between Quidditch practise?” you gaped, looking from the sketch of sunflowers and daisies and his beaming face.

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “An artist never reveals his secrets.”

“I think that’s meant to be magician.”

“Same thing.” he waved her off. “Anyway, I know sunflowers are your favourite, and daisies are my favourite. So I combined them.”

“This is honestly incredible.” you gushed.

“Oh, stop it.”

“No, seriously.” You stood up. “Can I put it on my wall?”

“Go for it,” he beamed, somehow even brighter than before.

You gently pulled the page from the pad and ripped a tab of blu-tack off, sticking it to the wall above your desk. Once it was hung, you stepped back to admire it. “Oh!” you gasped. “You need to sign it!”

Cedric stood up and brushed past you, scribbling his signature on the bottom right corner with a small heart. “Happy?”

“Mhm.”

That should have been your second sign.

They stood side by side and admired it for a moment.

Then you broke the silence.

“I can’t draw for shit,” you laughed. “And look at you. Mister Artist himself.”

“Oh, piss off,” he groaned, hugging your shoulders from behind and resting his chin on your head. “You can sing though. I can’t.”

“Liar.” you scoffed, patting his arm. “I’ve heard you sing. Besides, you’re practically perfect at everything you do.”

Just as he was about to respond, Cordelia burst through the lightly shut door, eyes still red and puffy. The two separated. “Lunch is ready.”

“Thanks, Dells,” he nodded. “We’ll be right there.”

As she left, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and led you out. “God, I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving.”

“Very funny.”

The Second Week

As with most summers, you and Cedric spent almost every waking moment in each other’s company.

Unlike most summers, however, you couldn’t chase the thoughts of a certain bet from your mind.

You knew, you knew, that there was nothing to it. That it was just your friends being annoying and messing with you and everything you’d started reading into was just in your head… But, God, was it hard to remember sometimes.

You were mostly worried that he’d find out. Maybe one of your friends would send you a letter mentioning it? (Not that he’d ever read your letters.) What if Liz came for a random visit? Or worse: what if she told her friends, the Weasley twins, and they came for a visit?

You chased your swirling thoughts from your mind as Cedric walked through the front door, performing the mental equivalent of shoving all of the mess in your room into the wardrobe and hoping it closed right.

“Hey,” you smiled, standing up with your bowl of milk that used to hold cereal. “You’re early.”

“It’s eleven o’clock.”

“Yeah, early,” you shrugged, setting the now empty bowl in the sink. “What’s up?”

“Wanna go into town?” he asked, leaning on the counter and gesturing to the fruit bowl.

You tossed him an apple. “Sure. When?”

“Now?”

You sighed heavily, half-joking. “A bit more warning would be nice. Lemme go get changed.”

“Yes!” he cheered through a mouthful of apple. “You’re the best, N/N!”

N/N? You wondered as she jogged up the stairs. Since when am I N/N?

If you’d been listening carefully, you would have heard Cedric bang his head against the kitchen bench.

The town was quiet as always.

A farmer’s market was dying down, most vendors packing their remaining wares and smiling sheepishly at you and Cedric as you wove your way through the stunted stalls. You purchased a fresh bread roll and split it between you as you walked, both surprised that it was still warm.

“You know,” Cedric said after a few minutes of silence as you left the market and strolled along the main street. “We should do this more often.”

You squinted as you looked up at him, the sun assaulting your eyes. “Really?” you asked dryly. “What, burn ourselves to a crisp and get blinded while we’re at it?”

“No, dummy. Do stuff.”

“What? You don’t like doing nothing with me?” you teased.

“No, no, I love doing nothing with you,” he stole a chunk of bread that you’d been eyeing up. “But I also like spending money.”

“I bought the bread. I was the one who spent the money.”

He gasped, as if he didn’t already know. “What? Really?”

“Shut up, Ced,” you smiled, pushing him and stealing the last chunk of bread from the packet.

You were awake uncharacteristically early, so when you knocked on the Diggory’s front door, Cedric looked supremely confused.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked. “Did someone die?”

“No, why would you— You’re an arsehole, you know that?” you pouted.

“Yeah, I know. Come on.”

He led you down the short hallway and into the living area. You sighed contentedly. The Diggory’s house always smelled amazing; a combination of vanilla, coffee and cleaning supplies that somehow worked. Cedric often smelled similar, you realised. The vanilla that clouded the house seemed to hang around him as well. You shook yourself out of it as he began speaking.

“My dad’s gotten obsessed with the TV,” he admitted, nodding towards the man who was watching with a rapt expression. “He doesn’t really understand it, but he’s addicted. He really likes cricket. Probably because he can’t figure out how to change the channel.”

“Oh, I used to play cricket! I love it so much!” you gushed, joining Amos on the couch. “Who’s playing?”

“England and India,” he said distractedly.

“ODI, T20 or test?”

“Test. We’re on Day Two.”

“So England’s batted?”

“Three-thirty-seven.”

“Not bad,” you squinted at the numbers on the screen, showing one-twenty-eight for six.

“I have no idea what you guys are saying,” Cedric cut in, looking blankly between you two.

“We’re talking sport,” Amos said, almost giddily.

You didn’t spare either of them a glance as the English captain went upstairs for a review. “Yeah, get back in the kitchen. Go make us a sandwich.” you teased.

“I thought you were coming to hang out with me,” he almost pouted.

You finally dragged your eyes from the screen. “But… Cricket…”

He shook his head with a smile. “Right, of course. Two sandwiches coming right up.”

The Moment You Knew

The days seemed doomed to repeat. Groundhog day, your mum had called it. So, when you found a way to rid yourself of the monotony of daily life, you took it without a second thought.

“Mum, please!”

“I don’t know…”

“I’ll even get petrol! I’ll… I’ll… I’ll pay for it myself too!”

“Y/N…”

“Mum,” you pleaded. “It’s just me and Ced. It’s a twenty minute drive and I’ll get petrol on the way back. We’ll be back by four and I’ll wear suitable shoes while driving.”

Whitney pursed her lips in thought. Then she sighed. “Fine. Don’t bother getting petrol, I’ll fill up on the way home from work on Monday.”

You squeaked in excitement, hugging your mum tightly. “Thank you! You’re the best! I love you!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Love you too, hun,” she smiled.

True to her word, you did wear suitable shoes. The drive ended up taking around twenty-five minutes, but you supposed your mother couldn’t fault you for driving just under the speed limit all the way there.

There was a secluded lake you’d found out about from an old magazine in your mum’s collection, when you’d been looking for something, anything, to make your days less boring.

“This is awesome,” Cedric breathed as you broke through the treeline and onto the rocky shore of the small lake.

“Yeah,” you sighed contentedly, breathing in the fresh air.

You set up their towels and supplies in the shade of a tree and pulled off your sturdy shoes.

Cedric pulled his shirt over his head. You would be lying if you said your eyes didn’t catch on his muscles.

“Race you in,” he said as you had your own shirt halfway over your head.

“What?” you asked, hearing him run away. “Oh, you prick!”

You tossed your shirt on the ground, followed by your shorts, leaving you in your swim suit, pouting as Cedric splashed around in the cool, blue water.

You stomped over to the water’s edge, frowning down at him. The rock you were standing on was about a metre above the surface, casting a navy shadow over the rippling water. He waded a few metres out from you.

“You coming?” he asked.

“No,” you pouted, folding your arms. “I don’t swim with cheaters.”

He barked a laugh, swimming over to the edge and pulling himself out. Droplets of water hit your skin.

You backed away. “Cedric…”

He took a step closer.

“Don’t you dare, Diggory…”

He tilted his head, grinning widely as he continued to step closer to you. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Sure, you don’t,” you pointed at him. “Stay back!”

He laughed and pushed off his heels, springing towards you. Before he could reach you, however, you turned tail and ran, feet skimming over the rocks as you raced for the safety of the towels.

You only managed to get a few steps in before he caught you, his cold arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you off the ground. He spun around, carrying you back to the edge of the water and tossing you into the lake.

You yelped as the cold water hit you, but remembered to hold your breath, your hair swirling around your face in the water. You heard the telltale sound of him jumping in too and forced yourself up to the surface.

“I hate you!” you gasped, pushing your hair off your forehead. “I hate you so fucking much!”

“Liar!” he retorted, shaking his head and sending water droplets flying everywhere. “You love me.”

You didn’t respond for a moment, treading water and staring at him. “You wish,” you finally uttered.

He just smiled.

The days ticked by much faster than expected. Soon, Cedric was waving his parents off on their week-long trip and then hauling his bags over to your house, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“What did you do?” you immediately asked when you were alone.

He closed the door gently before skipping over to the bed in the guest bedroom he was staying in. He sat on it cross-legged, still smiling, and patted the mattress ahead of him.

When you finally sat down, he leaned forward.

“Guess what I bought,” he said.

You waited.

“You’re meant to ask,” he sighed.

“Oh, my bad,” you cleared your throat. “What did you bring, Cedric?”

He didn’t answer, simply reaching down to his backpack and pulling out a bottle of firewhiskey.

“That’s it? Oh, you sweet, sweet child,” you teased. “I have three of those in my room.”

“Sorry, N/N, not all of us are casual rulebreakers,” he sniffed.

You pushed his shoulder. “I’m kidding, Ced. I mean, technically, I’m not, but I do appreciate the sentiment.”

He poked his tongue out at you.

The Night Things Happened

The day started like any other.

You and Cedric usually woke up at vastly different times, so when he woke up, he went for a run, had a shower and ate a light breakfast before going to wake you.

A lot of groaning and a few thrown pillows later, you were standing in the kitchen making pancakes.

As you flipped another one, leading to Cedric cheering as if you’d never done it before, Whitney entered the kitchen.

“Morning, you two,” she greeted, kissing your temple and patting Cedric’s shoulder. “Cords and I are going to that Girl Scouts sleepover tonight, remember? So you’ll have to make dinner yourselves.”

“Yup, we know, Mum,” you said, taking the pancake out of the pan and slapping it onto a plate. “We’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you burning the house down. Remember last time?”

“Mum.” You turned to her grimly. “We don’t talk about last time.”

Whitney raised her hands in surrender. “Right, right. But, on a more serious note. I shouldn’t have to tell you not to invite anyone else over and to be in bed by one, should I? And I won’t come home to drunk teenagers all over my house?”

“Nope, we’ll be all good, Ms Ridge,” Cedric shot her a winning smile.

She pursed her lips jokingly. “Mhm… Alright, I trust you two. I’m going to the shops, need anything?”

“We need more eggs.”

“Eggs, got it.”

The night was when things changed.

After Whitney and Cordelia were gone, at least long enough that it was unlikely they’d turn around and come back, you took your first swig of firewhiskey.

It burned its way down your throat, like it always did. Cedric coughed and sputtered, nearly spitting it mouthful out.

You held back a laugh. “You alright, Golden Boy?”

“Shut up,” he seethed, voice hoarse.

You raised your hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I was just asking.”

You sat and ate the pizza you’d ordered already, taking sips of firewhiskey whenever you felt like it.

You closed your pizza box one slice after Cedric did, placing it on top of his on the coffee table. “You good?”

“Great,” he smiled dopily. It seemed the whiskey was hitting him harder than he was letting on.

You smiled back. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You took a larger swig of whiskey, shaking your head at the strength. “I just wanna point out that if you get sick, I’m not cleaning you up. Got it?”

“Yeah, got it.” He nodded, looking a little bit more put together. “I’d clean you up though. If you got sick.”

You smiled again. “Thanks, Ced.”

The night was going surprisingly well. You’d turned on the TV, both staring, fixated at Friends reruns, leaning heavily on each other. The bottle was half gone and, as the advertisements came on, you each took another swig.

Cedric was looking at you weird.

You straightened up, frowning in confusion. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he slurred slightly. “You’re just… Fuck, you’re pretty.”

Your heart fluttered. “Oh. So are you.”

He blushed, looking down. “Yeah, I know.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. “Yeah, I bet you do, Goldie.”

“Goldie?”

“Golden Boy. It’s cute.”

“You’re cute.”

“You’re cute.”

“No, you’re cute.”

“You’re cuter.”

“No, you are.”

“You are.”

“You…” he was very close to you now, his grey eyes darting between you eyes and your lips. “You’re very pretty. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” you breathed.

“No, I don’t think you know how pretty you are. Like… When you laugh your eyes light up, and… And when you do that thing when you’re thinking… Where your eyebrow twitches… Oh, and that thing you do… The thing when your favourite songs come on and you tap your legs really fast…”

You swallowed tightly as his hand brushed your cheek. His breath smelled of firewhiskey, but you were sure yours did too.

He wasn’t looking at your eyes anymore. “You’re incredible, Y/N. And you deserve to know that.”

“Cedric…” you started.

“Sh…” he cut you off. He was hardly an inch away now. “Don’t talk. Just…”

Friends came back on the TV.

“Just watch Friends with me.” He leaned back, looping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you flush against his side.

You tried with all your might to ignore your pounding heart.

You weren’t sure if you were going to win this bet after all.

[mastermindmiko]

Parties

Pairing: Sirius Black + reader

Word count: 1296 (I think I'm really loving these short and fluffy one shots)

Summary: You and Sirius fool around (not sexually) at a pureblood party

Warnings: light and funny hits and smacks, and nothing else I believe but lmk if you notice anything I didn't

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

"On a scale of one to ten, how likely is it that one of the dads is going to get drunk and go off the hook?"

"Is there a number above ten that I can use?"

"No."

"Then ten, like you even have to ask." I reply with a grin at the absurd question. Every time there's a party one of the dads get drunk and off the hook, last time it was Avery Sr. His wife had to pull him off the table. I ask, "The question isn't if, it's who."

"Avery." Sirius replies looking at the man, smiling, no doubt picturing his red face wife trying to pull him down the table where he's swinging his tie on. I scoff, "Two times in a row? No way. I think Mrs. Avery has him drinking apple juice tonight."

"Well then who do you think it is?" Sirius asks, and I hum. I look around the room, looking for the older men. Mulciber has been drinking a lot tonight, but he's talking to Malfoy which means business so no way it's him. Then I hit the jackpot. I grin and say, "Your father."

"My father? No way, he's never gone crazy ever." Sirius scoffs and leans back in his chair. I lean closer to his side and start to explain as I fix my eyes to Mr. Black. I explain, "He's gone flushed, and he's not talking anymore which means that he knows that he's going to slur on his words, and he's already taken off his jacket."

"I think you're an idiot and that it's going to be Nott." Sirius says, and I punch him in the arm for calling me and idiot, then shake my head. I tut, "I don't think so-" I say in a sing-songy voice, then continue, "He holds his alcohol well."

"No, he doesn't. A few years ago, he was made a mess." Sirius says, but I still don't agree. I grab my drink from the table, and take a tiny sip before saying, "That was because he had signed the divorce papers from his first wife that morning, other wise he never would have drank so much."

"I still think he's a better guess than my father." Sirius says, rolling his eyes. He hates talking about his father, and he is absolutely right, he's a horrible man. I fold my arms and then suggest, "Alright, what do you want to bet on- and not money, merlin knows we both have enough of that already."

Sirius hums in thought, as he thinks of ideas. One of the perks of being in a pureblood family is the insane amount of money carried from one generation to another, one of the faults, the tedious parties, Sirius makes them better though. He clicks his fingers and I can almost see a light bulb go off in his head. He starts, "A kiss-"

"I already give you those-"

"And a date where I control everything." Sirius grins, and I groan, and cover my face with my hands. I groan, "But you're going to pick a shit place, like madam puddifoot's or something other absurd café."

"If you're scared that you'll lose, I can change it." Sirius taunts, and I look back at Mr. Black and he's already loosening his tie. I grin then hold out my hand to him. I say, "You're on."

Sirius takes my hand, shakes it one time with a firm grip, then hauls me close to him to give me a kiss on the cheek. I yelp, and then put my hand on his thigh to stabilize me enough to go back to sitting properly in my seat. I smack his thigh. Merlin knows what my mother would've done if she saw that.

"And if I win, I want full control over your hair for a month." I say, and watch that smirk of his fade away instantly. He grabs his hair, desperately and shakes his head. He says, "No way, that's same value as one date."

"If you're scared that you'll lose, I can change it." I say in a deeper voice, imitating him and saying his exact words. He gives me a glare, but folds his arms and pouts in his seat. I chuckle at his reaction.

The music is quiet, it's only the voices of chatter that really fill up the room. I look all around the room and notice that Regulus is with one of his friends chatting about something, I recognize the friend as Evan Rosier. Sirius taps my shoulder to interrupt my train of thought.

"Wanna get out of here?" He asks, and he already knows my answer because I soon as I say yes, he's already got my hand in his hand. He stands up, and we look around each of us making sure that none of our family members can see us.

Sirius leads me out of the room and into a corridor. This is Nott Sr.'s house, we knew only bits of it. We get out of the room, and Sirius presses me against on of the walls. He kisses me feverishly and I return it with a smile. His hands caress my waist and they go up and down and up and down, driving me insane.

"so this is why you wanted to get out." I tease, and he goes back to kissing me in seconds. I can't say I'm really complaining though. He breaths out in between kisses, "Can't blame me for wanting to spend time with you."

We part for some much needed air and Sirius looks around. He sees the closest door and he goes towards it, pulling me with him. He says, "Now, what could this be? A bedroom maybe?"

He opens the door and we're meet with the clatter of pots and pains and tiny house elves moving around everywhere, trying to get dinner ready. Sirius sighs in disappointment, and he turns to leave, but I break free of his grip when I see..."Scones!"

I trail towards them and grab a few off of one of the plates that the house elves were carrying. I shoved one in my mouth, and it tasted good. Sirius grabbed one from my hands and started eating it himself. I frowned at him and his reply was poking a tongue out at me.

I finish my scone and maybe two more, then I go to sit on one of the chairs. Sirius pouts when he notices there's no chairs. He grabs me, and lifts me up. I start screaming, "Sirius Orion Black, you better put me down right now. You babbling, bumbling, baboon-"

"You're the only good thing my parents have ever done for me, and quite possibly the best thing that has ever happened to me." Sirius says in one breath to shut me up. He always does this, randomly he just spills out bursts of emotion. He feels them at random times, but Sirius has never been good at expressing emotions, so I appreciate them when they come.

He sits down and puts me on his lap. I smile at his words and lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips. Sirius parts abruptly, "Did you just call me a baboon?"

"Oh no, we need some remedies, quickly!" One of the house elves, enter quickly into the room, and the rest of them bustle quickly trying to find a remedy for whomever just got severely drunk out there. Another house elf shouts, "Who was it this time?"

"Mr. Black."

"Yes!" I shout in triumph and get off of Sirius' lap to preform a victory dance. I clap and dance around, and I point at him and grin, "Get ready to have your hair green!"

"No!"

an: maybe I am starting this marauders era for me, I'm really enjoying it too. I think I should keep writing about them for a while + Reggie of course

[dairy-farmer]

Don't know about you? But you know what one of MY favorite multi set ups is? The sandwich. Just? "We are going to MELT YOUR BRAIN" from sensory onslaught and leaving you drooling.

And I'm just sayin >.> bet Damian? Would TOTALLY have a "do I hate you or am I desperately horny for you" complexe towards Tim? Maybe some sort of team up? Verbal jabs leading to physical as they are changing at a safe house. And suddenly they are wrestling like feral little shits.

Nearly naked. Writhing and grappling. Until Damian manages to land himself straddling on top of a suddenly frozen Tim, who lost because he became Hyper Aware of what he was DOING. And of course he is smug in his victory. No, no he doesn't think he SHALL get up.

Beg.

And Tim is trying so, SO hard not to reveal that that he's gotten, well, HARD. But of COURSE the little nightmare notices. This is it. Tim's life is over.

But instead? It's more mocking, challenging, goading. Oh, so you DO have taste. And such.

As Damian rocks his hips. Grinding and teasing. How? What!? Who TAUGHT him these things!? Tim can't think. It's been a WHILE. The friction is amazing. Damian is smug, finally, HE is the one with the undisputed upper hand.

Drake, at HIS mercy. Flushed and panting and a mess. To hell with undressing, he uses a batarang to cut their remaining underwear OFF. Grabs the lubricants from both their belts.

Has he done this before? No. Even EXPLORED that area? Perhaps. Out of medical curiosity, he assures you. But NOW? Now he NEEDS it. Wants to see Timothy fall APART beneath him. Be completely under HIS control.

So he stretchs himself with clumsy, inexperienced fingers. Rocks and rocks his hips, never enough, but always enough to torment and tease. Fascinated by the way Timothy flushes, shakes, claws desperately at the floor like it will grant him SOME form of control. Damian feels... POWERFUL.

And Tim? Is losing his MIND. What is he DOING? With DAMIAN of all people. He should stop. Needs to stop! But... but, ah, it feels? So GOOD? How is it so GOOD? Hot and rough but not hurting, teasing but not too light. Why the FUCK is he GOOD at this? Why is Tim LETTING him do this?

Yeah it's been a while, and his really horny, but this is-!!! Oh!

And... listen. Tim? Never really... Topped, before. Not that this FEELS like he is. Kon always wanted to put it in, and Tim was cool with whatever. Same with his other partners. So he's never... never...

T-Tight.

Hot and tight, fluttering like a slick vice around the tip of his cock. Slowly rocking and sinking DEEPER. Swallowing him alive. Ripping the air from his lungs. He couldn't be silent if he tried. He's gasping for air. Whining. Shaking as he tries desperately to hold still, to not buck into that amazing heat.

Then Damian's MOVING and he can't shut up. No wonder Kon was obsessed. He's babbling. Anything to make it continue. More. More! Please. God it's so TIGHT. Milking him. Wet and hot and greedy. His hips bucking franticly in the little space he's allowed, to meet the controlled rocking of the body above him.

But! Of course, you cant leave Tim and Damian ALONE too long. That always leads to violence, even if the ARE getting better. So Dick has to check on them, you know? Make sure things are civil. Be that needed buffer.

But? Huh. No shouting? No crashing? Just panting. Did they already tire themselves ou-...? And what should he walk in on? Damian. RIDING Timmy. Gasping and rocking as he takes his pleasure, like Tim was his own personal dildo. Timmy clearly LOSING it. Whimpering and neglected as he's used for pleasure but not givin enough.

It... it should NOT as instantly rock hard hot as it is. Damian and Tim, expressive and needy, where they are usually so closed off and withheld. Panting and moaning, limbs shaking, all but BEGGING to be held tight and...

His eyes drift to Tim spread legs. He's overheard enough conversations to know... Tim likes to TAKE it. He must feel so EMPTY. And, really, Damian's going to get NOWHERE awkwardly bouncing like he is. All he's doing is teasing both of them.

They really do... need someone... to show...them.......

He's undressing before the thought even fully develops. Swiping the actual lube from the bedroom and a pillow. Time to be a good big brother. Teach his baby bros how to REALLY do things.

Tim down right near sobs, when clever, LONG, fingers slide into his body. Expertly avoiding where he really, REALLY wants them. Mean. Please! Ah! But no, they stretch and slick. Rubbing him deep but not where he WANTS. It's almost too much.

And then it IS too much. Thick. Strong thighs and familiar hands, pushing his legs open, dragging him back to be IMPALED. A familiar face hooked over Damian's shoulder, smiling down at him. Dick is-? AH!

Tim's brain feels like it's short circuiting. He's gripping Damian's waist. Lifting him and rocking him down in time with his own movements. Tim cant..can't... too much! Dick is pounding his spots! HE'S pounding Damian's. Who keeps getting so tight, twitching and fluttering, like his trying to rip the orgasm right out of him! They're whining and sobbing and all Dick does is coo that they're doing so GOOD.

Then Tim is FILLING that tight hole above him. Watchs limp and fucked dumb as Damian is pulled off him and finished by Dick. All but squeeling at the sudden increase in thickness and his orgasm is pounded out of him. Tim's not sure he has bones anymore.

He definitely doesn't by morning.

Dick has clearly decided he LOVES their "get along" method. And won't hear anything to the contrary. Is already planning to invite Jason over for "family therapy". Tim blames Damian. Damian blames Tim. Both of their asses are probably bruised and they can't move.

At least the Dick cuddles are nice.

-🐼

tim being squished in the middle of a sandwich where he's getting fucked 🥰🥰🥰🥰!!!!

[scarasimplysimping]

All In

Part 1 (might be two parts idk)

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Summary: A bet is placed to see if you can get the Summa Cum Laude to fall in love with you. (Scaramouche x Reader) (College au)

Contains: Idk. So it's one of those love stories where there's a bet. Hu Tao and Childe are kind of assholes for the sake of this fic, I am SORRY. Reader is also kind of an ass. Ooc. Some plot holes because I don't go to college or drink or smoke. Just roll with it.

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

2,822 words 15,518 characters

What a stuck-up prick.

That's what you thought of him anyway. He was *the* Summa Cum Laude of your year. He was snobby, self-centered, friendless, and to top it all off, he just so happened to be your partner for your big thesis.

It was not by choice but he had no partner because people were afraid of him and you had no partner because well... people hated you. It wasn't a project that could be done individually either, lest you wanted to die before you graduate.

"He's such a bore." You complain to your friends on the lunch table, Hu Tao, Childe, and Xiao. "I tried to make plans with him, really. I asked if he was free, and you know what he said?" You slammed your hands on the table for dramatic effect.

Hu Tao leaned in closer, strands of her hair falling onto the table, and alarmingly close to Xiao's food, making him scowl as he moved his tray.

"He said," you began, putting up a silly impression of him with a snobby expression. "I don't need bottom feeders like you dragging down my work. I'll handle everything. Pay me if you want."

Childe snorted. Hu Tao doubled over in laughter, mainly because you're impression was so on point.

"God, what a freak." Hu Tao mused as she wiped her tears from her face, she never passed on the opportunity to talk shit about someone she didn't like. Childe agreed with her but he was partly not paying attention. He jabbed his fork into Xiao's food.

"Fucker." Xiao muttered under his breath.

Your silly clique was a ragtag bunch of misfits in their own ways. Hu Tao was your childhood friend who always had something vindictive to say or some storm to stir up. She lived for the drama.

Childe started tagging along around highschool. He was a charming, silver-tongued ginger ball of sunshine, he started developing a negative reputation over time as as somewhat of a satyr, though.

Xiao was above all the petty and immature antics whichever one of you had the gall to cook up. In all honesty, he was only there because his older brother, Zhongli had asked Childe to help him settle in to the college life. Childe owed the man a favor so he dragged the poor emo wherever you guys went and you kind of just got used to his company.

Then there was you, there was one thing that set you far apart from them all.

Money.

They were filthy rich and you, an independent college student, had not a penny to your name after you decided to up and leave your family to follow Hu Tao to college. You didn't really have to work though, your friends pretty much covered most of your college expense as casually as a friend would by you lunch.

"I know I can't really help him, I mean, my grades are dogshit right now but like I don't know how to pay him either," You said, burying your face into your palms.

Childe scoffed. "I don't even think he means it. Plus, it's nothing to worry about. We've got you covered if that greedy little nerd actually demands shit from you."

"Yeah, just let him do everything by himself," He continued "Watch him or something, in case your professor wants updates.."

A small smirk formed upon his lips. "I bet he's not that hard to watch anyway."

You playfully punched him on the shoulder "Gross!"

"You gotta admit he is kinda cute," Hu Tao chided in. "Right, Xiao?"

Xiao shrugged, far too focused on actually having lunch.

Childe snaked an arm over you. "Tell you what, (Y/N). If you can somehow bed the prudish bastard before the end of this semester, I'll fork over some money for this month's rent."

"Hu Tao pays rent."

"I'll fork over some money for anything you want."

"Hmm... I want VIP tickets to La Signora's concert."

"Done~"

"Oh my archons! Like actually?" Hu Tao couldn't tell if you both were serious. "(Y/N), your charm is above average but I don't even know if you can pull this one off."

You roll your eyes." Have faith in me. I bet he's easy."

Hu Tao leans back thoughtfully, a mischievous smirk playing on her face. "Alright, (Y/N). If you manage to pull this off I'll give you a grand.

You gape at her. "Seriously?

"Absolutely."

You know were only entertaining the idea because they had no actual faith you'd pull it off, but to you. This was easy money.

You slowly turn to the brooding emo on the table. "What about you, Xiao?"

His eyes narrowed at you. "What about me?"

"You gonna offer anything?"

He scoffs, groaning internally and being the only one with a moral compass. "Only an asshole would find bets such as these any type of fun."

Childe flicks his wrist dismissevly. "We are assholes."

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

It was hard enough convincing Scaramouche to work on the project and your (and Hu Tao's) place but now you had to deal with the emanating silence from you both. You've barely ever talked to him but the tension in your room could be cut with a knife, or maybe that was just your imagination.

He was sitting cross legged on your bed, typing away at his laptop with several papers surrounding him. You were sat across from him in the same position, nursing a cigarette in between your fingers.

"Do you want something to eat?" You finally break the silence.

He doesn't look up from the screen as he responds. "What do you have?"

You look to the ceiling, trying to recall what you and Hu Tao had last shoved into the fridge. "Uh... Pesto... Pizza... Dumplings. Probably some leftover vegetables."

"Bring me them all." Talk about shame.

"Alright." You say, putting out the cigarette on your nightstand. You couldn't help but notice the tiny scowl on Scaramouche's face as he glanced at the ashtray.

You come back balancing a bowl of pesto, a bowl of dumplings, and a bowl of salad on a box of pizza. Scaramouche pats on the side of your bed, indicating for you to drop the offerings there.

You light another cigarette as you take your previous seat in front of him.

"The weather is pretty nice today.." A sad attempt at conversation on your end.

Silence

"So... Childe's hosting a party tomorrow night, would you like to come?" You try once more.

Scaramouche still doesn't say anything, he doesn't even look up from the screen.

You blow a puff of smoke on his face. He coughs a bit before glaring at you with cold judging eyes. At least he was actually looking at you now. "I have no time to indulge in that crap."

"You have plenty of time. That thesis isn't due for another month."

"Well not exactly, since I'll be doing the work for both of us."

"Do you have a problem with me?"

"I have a problem with people like you." He glowers.

"People like me?" You raise your eyebrows.

"People who just have everything spoon fed to them by luck or by birthright and take that as a reason to slack off for the rest of their life since everything just magically works out for them." Scaramouche wasn't wrong, you really fucked around and never found out but still, what right did he have to judge you?

"Didn't know you knew me so well." You say, blowing out another puff of smoke but this time it's to the side.

Scaramouche opens his mouth to respond, then closes it once more. You had a point. It was hypocritical of him to listen to judge you based on gossip.

Finally, he speaks after a few minutes of silence.

"I was out of line." It's an apology although he doesn't outright apologize.

"Yeah." You decide to take advantage of his momentary guilt as you inquire about what he's working on. "So, do you mind telling me what you're doing?"

"Well, I'm looking online for research papers related to the topic were studying. I'm taking snippets I find interesting and I'll save them for later to expand on them in our thesis."

Scaramouche speaks a bit more but you're hardly listening. You take this time to really observe his physical appearance. Hu Tao was right; the man was cute. His eyes, his mouth, his lips. If you took a meat cleaver to the center of his skull, you'd have matching halves.

Even his hair looked softer than unicorn fur.

"(Y/N)?" He snaps you out, a displeased expression creeps upon his face upon noticing that you aren't even paying attention.

"Your hair looks softer than unicorn fur," you blurt out.

His eyes widen slightly, and you could've sworn he turned a shade pink before he feigned a disgusted look to save his dignity. "What the hell?"

You caught on immediately. There it was. Scaramouche had a weakness. The Summa Cum Laude, the bridge troll with a big brain and purple hair (as Hu Tao once described him) is someone who gets easily flustered .

"You're kind of cute." You push on.

"Shut the fuck up." His head lowers, he dares not look into your eyes.

"Come to Childe's party with me?" You ask once more.

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Scaramouche hated you. He hated your face and your voice and your personality. He hated every single atom you were made up of, but most of all he hated the way you were able to persuade him to come to this stupid party. And for what? Just because you were the first person to ever call him cute? He'd curse you and all your descendants to come.

Childe's party was just a gathering of drunks and trouble makers. His house was practically a mansion that could fit 60% of the university's student population.

He hated the blaring lights and unbelievably loud, repetitive, and distasteful music.

"I hate this!" He has to shout for you to hear.

"I know!"

"I'm going home!"

"You can't! You're my ride home!"

"We walked here, dumbass!" Scaramouche wanted to leave you truly he did but something, wasn't letting him. His moral compass or his growing fondness of you?

Childe finds you, placing an arm around your shoulder. "Hey!" He hands you a shot glass which you graciously accept and down in a couple of seconds, much to Scaramouche's dismay.

Childe pays no attention to your companion until he does a double take and realize it's Scaramouche.

"Holy shit! Is that Scara!?" Childe grins hazily. He was drunk drunk.

Scaramouche does not respond. He is frowning while Childe handed you half a bottle of gin.

You drink it within a couple minutes as you chat with Childe.

Scaramouche stands there, awkward, cranky, and out of place as the only person he's aquatinted with in this party is getting absolutely inebriated.

At some point you don't know when or from where but you get your hands on another shot glass.

"You're not drinking that," Scaramouche states firmly.

"I am." You bring the cup to your lips but Scaramouche is faster, he snatches it from you and lets it fall to the ground.

"What gives!?"

"I'm not carrying your drunk ass home just because you drank away the capability to walk!" He shouts at you.

People are staring now. Is it because of the commotion or because Scaramouche was the last person anyone would expect to see at a party?

Scaramouche didn't like the staring or the attention. "I'm going fucking home." He says, grabbing your wrist and pulling you past the crowd. "So are you."

Childe is left there, impressed. He takes out his cellphone.

To: Hu Tao

She's actually gonna pull it off. Wtf

From: Childe

You stumble and trip as Scaramouche drags you through the night. It was a miracle you could keep up. (It wasn't, he slowed his pace on purpose to match yours but it still wasn't slow enough for your drunken ass.)

"Scara, slow dooown~"

He ignores you until he feels you slip from his grasp, landing with a thud. "What the fuck is wrong with you!? Do you not have the smarts to walk!?" The boy scolds.

You decide to rest your knees a bit as you stay on the ground.

You hear him sigh sharply before crouching in front of you. "Get on."

"What? Like piggyback style?"

"Yes, damnit just get on." His face wasn't facing you and it was dark. Scaramouche was eternally grateful to the archons that you couldn't see the way his ears reddened.

He carries you like that until you're at the front door of your place. Scaramouche gently drops you off. Miraculously not panting. (He wasn't that athletic.)

"Can I trust you enough to tuck yourself in?" The boy asks, his tone was calm this time.

You nod in response.

"Alright." Scaramouche turns his heel to leave.

"Scaramouche." You call out.

He turns back to you, a little too quickly.

You try to take a step towards him except you "accidentally" trip on air and crash onto his chest. He barely moves an inch but his hands instinctively wrap around you. You can see the exact moment he scrunches his nose as well as the moment before that where his cheeks flush.

You'll blame this on alcohol later. You'll also blame alcohol for when you pulled his collar to place a quick peck on his lips.

This was the night Scaramouche nearly passed away.

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Scara paced around his room. What the fuck was that? Why the fuck would you do that? His heart still raced as fast as it did when you kissed him.

He replayed the kiss over and over in his mind. Why? Just why? He mussed his hair in frustration as he plopped himself on the bed. If Scaramouche focused enough, he could still feel their lips on his, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

Why had a drunken asshole decided to take his first kiss? Why was he reacting so weirdly?

And why did he just tuck tail speed walk away right after it happened without saying shit about it?

(Y/N) will probably tell their friends. They'll gossip and laugh at how the smartest person in their program was turned into a blushing, sputtering mess at the mere kiss of some drunk. Some overly confident, obnoxious, attractive drunk who's lips were soft as velvet.

The thought has him reeling. Rolling to the side, Scaramouche pulled a pillow over his head and groaned into it.

"I'm done guessing. What's wrong with you?" His inner monologue was broken by his cyan haired roommate.

"Nothing. Fuck off, Dottore." His words still muffled by the pillow.

"All your ceaseless brooding is keeping me distracted. I suggest you stop whining if you don't want me to give you more reasons to whine."

Silence.

That came out wrong, but it got Scaramouche to shut up so who would complain?

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

It was a crush. That's what Dottore had said to him. It made jackshit sense though. Why would he like you? You were just someone he perceived as a slacker. It's possibly because you were the only one who ever showed interest in him. He'll probably get over it when he finds someone else to adore, but he couldn't.

Scaramouche was once again working on the thesis, on your bed. He didn't bring up the kiss. Maybe you'd forgotten about it? A small part of him hoped that you didn't though.

Finally, he decides to speak up. "I demand compensation."

You shoot him a confused look.

"What? Don't you remember?" Scaramouche scowls.

"You kissed me..."

"Did I?" You feign innocence.

"Do not make me repeat myself." He orders. "That was my first kiss. I demand some kind of compensation." His cheeks were heating up as it became harder and harder for him to look you in the eyes.

"Oh?" You bring your index finger below your lips in an expression of mock thoughtfulness.

Scaramouche's scowl deepens at your mocking finger below your lips. "Do not toy with me," he warns. "You took something and I want fair repayment."

You chuckle, enjoying his ruffled feathers. " And what is a first kiss worth these days?" Leaning back on your hands, you look him over appraisingly. "I'm not convinced it was really your first. You seemed to know what you were doing..."

His cheeks redden as he scrunches his nose at your audacity. "You're insufferable."

"And yet you enjoyed kissing me." You smirk. "Perhaps you even want more?"

Scaramouche's embarrassment only grows at your bold insinuation. "You presume too much, fool," he bites back, though his resolve seems weakened.

You shrug. "Suit yourself. I was just about to offer a date."

He narrows his eyes at you, as if trying to ascertain if this is some sort of trick. "A date?"

[oh-stars]

Speculating Specters

Ghost

a Stobin Month 2024 prompt | 672 words | CW: talks of afterlife and ghosts | Rating: G

--

Ghostbusters is playing on the little TV above the counter. They’ve done everything possible until closing and Robin doesn’t get paid enough to scrape the gum off the shelves, so she’s laying back in the one chair they're allowed and watching it. 

Steve’s standing with his hands on his hips just outside the boundaries of the counter, squinting up at the TV. He was supposed to be putting the cart back but he stopped about three steps away to watch with her. 

It’s the scene with the little green guy in the hotel, the ghost is shoveling food into his mouth when Robin turns to Steve. “Do you think ghosts are real?” 

“I mean–” 

She snaps quickly. “Yes or no, dingus?” 

“Yes,” he says, shrugging. 

“Really?” She leans forward. 

“Uh, yeah, Rob,” he says with a laugh. He lets his hands fall to the side as he rounds the counter to hop up next to her. “You’ve seen some of what I’ve seen,” he says, emphasizing his words with raised eyebrows and wide eyes, “after all of that, I don’t think ghosts are a stretch.” 

She considers this. “Fair point.” 

They watch until the Ghostbusters save the hotel before Steve continues with a, “Would you want to be a ghost?”

“No,” she says. 

“Why not?” 

“We don’t know ghost rules,” Robin says, spinning to face him instead of the tiny TV. “What if my ghost has to stay in the room I died in? Or do I get attached to an object? What if we can’t roam and interact with the world? Can we even see what’s going on in this plane or would we be stuck reliving our death over and over again in one of those loop things?” 

Steve’s brow is creased as he stares at the floor. It’s his processing face, the one she has to wait to see the crease smooth out or else he gets a migraine or very, very lost in the conversation. 

She waits patiently as the words soak into the folds of his brain. When he looks back up at her, hazel eyes clear and attentive, she continues. “I just think that wouldn’t be a very fun afterlife, ya know?” 

“It could be fun,” Steve says with a shrug. “Think of all the people you could haunt.” 

Robin sits up. “Who would you haunt?” 

“The boys,” Steve says with a smirk. “It’d be fun to mess with them.” 

“You’ve thought about this,” Robin says with a gasp. 

“A little.” 

“Please share your devious, spooky haunting plan with me, dingus.” 

“I just feel like haunting Henderson and Wheeler could be fun. I wouldn’t do anything to, like, scar them for life or something,” Steve says with a small smile and a shrug, “just be a nuisance in their lives like they are in mine.” 

“Such as?” 

“Twisting Henderson’s cap around when he’s studying and not paying attention,” Steve says. “Or moving Mike’s shit around in his room the tiniest amount where it’s noticeable but not enough to tell anyone. And I’d probably just try and spook Sinclair for Erica’s benefit.” 

“And Will?” 

Steve shakes his head. “I’d be a very helpful ghost to him. He’s the nicest out of the four and been through the most, I’m not going to make that worse.” 

“You do know the girls would be pissed that you’re not haunting them, too,” Robin says. 

He frowns. “I wouldn’t mess with them, though.  Max and Erica would be liable to somehow kill me again if I tried to haunt them.” 

Robin grins. “They wouldn’t kill me, though.” ‘

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Want to bet?” 

The door opens with a ding and both of them roll their eyes with silent, internal groans. Without saying a word, they do a quick round of rock, paper, scissors. Robin loses, her paper crumpling to Steve’s scissors. 

Her haunting plan will have to wait. She heaves herself up and out of her chair with a cheery, “Welcome to Family Video. May I help you with anything?” 

--

Thank you @lady-lostmind for beta reading!

Ao3 Link

[cuupidsss]

Aidrn clark with an idol girlfriend??

Yess! I like this one. I’m figuring that this means K-pop idol, soo imma do that. ermm.. i’m lazy so imma do some headcanons and possibly a little more !! i’m sorry this is so late btw :(

—

-You and Aiden had been friends for a short amount of time, you really liked him. he was goofy but also strangely endearing and it was pretty much impossible to not become attached to such positive(?) energy!

-after some time you guys got together and you eventually told him you were debuting, he was a little confused but then he immediately knew what you meant.

-i can totally see him being into K-pop, like A LOT, he probably loves black pink and claims to be a original fan (he’s not but in heart he is), probably isn’t secretive about it.

-whenever he see’s you rehearsing by yourself he practically kicking his feet and giggling.

-has definitely gave you choreography ideas in which you most DEFINITELY gave to your choreographer.

-you had to keep your relationship on the low because you don’t want a shitty scandal, it’s annoying for Aiden cause he just wants to get your attention all the time (selfish little rat) but he understands! or does he?

“Aiden! no.” you mutter, you guys are in public at the moment, you decided you wanted to go shopping, a few people glance at you in recognization but don’t approach, your clearly busy.

Aiden tried to pull you over by holding your hand but you quickly pulled back, he turns to you, he’s still smiling but he doesn’t look as excited as he once did.

“huh?” he says, tilting his head, tho sigh at his incompetence, he sighs with you before laughing. “eh, come on!” he grabs you by the shoulder and you groan, following after him.

he doesn’t get the memo btw. (he just doesn’t care)

-has undoubtedly funded for things without your consent.

-likes to buy hair pieces that he thinks goes with your performance outfits, he likes everything to color coordinate.

-attend EVERY show, he buys tickets (even if you say you can give him some for free) and then makes sure they are front row. he loves watching you dance.

-doesn’t like dieting, he finds it weird. the first time you denied food he was kind like, ‘just eat it, no one’s watching’ and you were like, ‘bro… i just.. god, give it to me.’

-oddly skilled at makeup.. like can do some FIRE eyeliner 🔥🔥🔥

“Aiden, where did you learn this?” you ask, looking at your reflection in the mirror. he was standing above you, in between your legs to get closer.

“i don’t know, i just winged it.” he grins, putting his hand on your forehead and pulling your head back to examine his handy work.

“ow.” you say, your tone monotone, he doesn’t say much just stares at your face.

awkward.

-broken a bone on stage? he’s literally here for you pooks. thirsty? he bought like 10 extra water bottle. literally wanna go home? you can’t.

-when people throw stuff at you on stage he literally starts internally tweaking, who in the freaky deeky did that?

-brings the whole gang to your shows, or just some of them if the others aren’t free.

-jokes about Ayego on the regular, when you side eye him he’s just like; 🤗

-loves and i mena loves when you show off your outfits for your shows, sometimes they aren’t super extra and other times your fully decked out and he just adores it.

-listens to your music proudly, if anyone asks for music suggestion best bet he’s naming AT LEAST ten of your songs.

-quick tyler headcanon, if this was about him i would say he would be someone like, “you know my girlfriend band\girl group? name 5 songs.” okay, done.

-anyway, back to Aiden!!! :9

-i don’t view him as someone who gives a lot of kisses.. at all, but he likes celebratory hugs.

“Aiden! holy shit! my groups music video got like.. 19 million views!” you run up to him at lunch, you ecstatic, so ecstatic and Aiden turns towards you and you both are looking at one another for a minute.

give it a minute and you both are jumping around and giggling, he’s like “that’s so cool!”

-all in all, he’s genuinely your biggest fan.

lemme know if the mischaracterization goes crazy y’all 🥰😦

[lesvegas]

FNV Quest Mods That Don't Suck

I know I've made modlists before but talk of DLC-sized mods made me want to make another. Big, DLC-sized quest mods are nine times outta ten messy, poorly-made and poorly-written, feel like they should've been fo3 mods, or have numerous other qualities that are detestable to normal people with taste. I've played most of the popular ones and hate nearly all of them. Here are the ones I actually can recommend.

Note: I also highly recommend having a proper modding setup before installing any of these. Everyone and their mother has already recommended the Viva New Vegas guide before because it works and it's beginner-friendly.

Allow me to spare your dash by putting this list under a cut.

"DLC-sized" Quest Mods

Boom to the Moon - A quest where you go to the moon (yes, really) to find out what happened to a man's wife. I promise it's way better than I could possibly describe. Honestly I recommend almost all of Jokerine's mods for her attention to detail and all the cool shit she makes. This quest mod doesn't even end with the moon trip, you'll also get the best-written mod companion I've ever seen. Seriously please give this one a try if nothing else on this list.

Autumn Leaves - A murder mystery in an archival library vault inhabited by Protectrons. Story so good Bethesda stole it to make a fo4 DLC. No combat, no need for weapons or companions. WARNING: if you suck at navigating vaults like I do you may have a bad time finding stuff (there's a walkthrough in the files). Also some of the lines are a bit odd because the author's first language isn't English. Also one character is a bigot in every way possible because he's intentionally designed to be as punchable as possible. Despite all of this it's still easily one of the best quest mods I've ever experienced.

Unfortunately, making quest mods DLC-sized in general leaves ample opportunity for shit to get messy fast, so honestly your best bet for quest mods is smaller scale, vanilla-feeling mods. So while I highly recommend the above mods, I'd recommend the following ones even more for a more seamless experience.

"Vanilla-feeling" Quest Mods

The Collector - A quest given by a broker in which you collect debts from gamblers. Similar to the Atomic Wrangler quest Debt Collector.

Caravan Tournament - Do you suck at Caravan? Skill issue. Play this anyway and tell me how it feels to lose because I'm sure it's just as interesting as winning but I'm too good at Caravan to to see it for myself. If you get good you get to see a tiny Robobrain wearing a hat.

Working On The Chain Gang - A Powder Ganger Quest Mod - Okay, technically this makes a second faction of Powder Gangers that aren't affected by your reputation with the vanilla Powder Gangers (so yes, even if they hate you, you can experience this mod). These new Powder Gangers reorganize themselves into a legitimate faction that blends seamlessly into the Mojave NPC ecosystem.

The Moon Comes Over the Tower - This one is technically cut content, but that just means it's peak vanilla-feel. Restores the rest of the quest where Emily Ortal asks you to bug Mr. House's network in which you actually have to travel to places to do it.

Okay, these ones are silly, but trust me

Among Us But It's Fallout - It's a vault with a murder mystery you get to solve! Memes aside it's honestly really well done and you should try it.

The Hollander Hotel and Casino - For a quest involving a haunted hotel (no jumpscares, don't worry), this one feels a little goofy at times, especially with The Shining references and the guy outside selling nothing but 500 bottles of Sunset Sarsaparilla. But you should give it a try anyway.

Legion Quests

Haven't done a Legion run not because you don't like being a bad guy, but because the Legion route feels lacking? Try some of these.

Legion Quests Expanded - Adds more Legion quests and expands several vanilla quests.

A Golden Opportunity - Legion El Dorado Quest - A quest where the Legion goes in and shuts down the NCR's El Dorado station.

Five Card Ante - A Legion Quest Mod - A quest parallel to Three Card Bounty in which you get to eliminate the NCR's First Recon.

Yes I Would Actually - A Legion Quest Mod - You know how Bitter Springs has three quests you can do for the NCR? Well, now you can do them for the Legion instead. You can even recruit help from the Great Khans to fuck the NCR's shit up.

[polyklok]

Hello there!! I really enjoyed your "what makes them soft/what gets them hard" headcanons for Dethklok. I was wondering if you could write a similar thing for Charles? If you're comfortable taking that request, that is. If not, feel free to ignore. I love your blog!

OHHHH BOYYYYY

So Charles isn’t in my “men to simp for” Radar, as much as I love him as a character and I don’t think I would ever write anything like that on my own-

BUT YOU BET YOUR SWEET ASS IM GONNA TRY also you seem like such a sweetheart so I have to

Charles Offdensen

What makes him soft 💘

Charles is, obviously, a very busy man. All day, everyday, work work work. His hands are usually full, signing away at documents, shaking hands to confirm business deals, fidgeting nervously while he discusses finances. So it means a lot when you gently stop what he’s doing and take the time to kiss his hands. Graze your lips over his knuckles and fingertips, he’ll be entranced by the sentiment. Even if you let go to let him continue whatever he was doing, he’ll be thinking about it for at least an hour.

He really likes being sung to. The only music he listens to nowadays is death metal (usually Dethklok’s) which obviously includes a lot of screaming, growling, and heavy instrumentals. He says it ‘puts him in the brutal mood’ for whatever Dethklok is going pursue next. But, despite this, his favorite type of music is listening to your heartbeat while you quietly sing or hum. Doesn’t matter what song, doesn’t matter how good you are. Please let him place his head on your chest and just sing for him.

Basically the opposite of Toki’s Charles is a serious, uptight, no-fun business man. Everyone calls him Mr. Offdensen, Dethklok gets the privilege of using his first name and occasionally robot, and only you can use any sort of pet name. Use it to your advantage, it’s so funny how dry he is to your dumb names, and despite seeming indifferent, he really does love the silliness of it.

“Hey there, my adowable, wittle pookie-bear muffin boy!”

“Hello Y/N.”

The thought of a room full of government officials and businessmen having to watch this display while holding back the cringe is so funny to me holy shit.

Whats gets him hard ❤️‍🔥

I’m gonna repeat again; Charles is busy. As much as he cares about you, he hardly has time for your relationship and is simply trying is best. Sex is barely ever on his mind. Until it is all that’s in your mind and you let him know. Seeing you needy and wanting him, hanging onto him, tugging at his tie, trying to pull him away from his work is the quickest way to get him hot and bothered. He just hasn’t considered being so desired before and it makes him crazy to watch you act like that for him.

Continuing that, when the two of you are in public and you suddenly get all touchy with him. Grazing his thigh, kissing his neck, running your hands in his hair. He knows that he should be above this and tell you to stop, but he really does love how shameless it is and how good it feels. He’s usually the most economically and socially powerful person in any room he’s in, so no one’s gonna tell him to quit on on the PDA anyway. If you’re lucky, he’ll pay you back for it at home. If you’re really lucky, he’ll drag you off into a nearby bathroom or closet. If you’re unlucky, well…

Is he a mean lover? No. Charles is very attentive and mindful of your needs. He’s going to constantly affirm with you that he’s doing the right thing. How selfless of him. But once that is all done and taken care of and he understands your limits…oh my god he wants to see you cry so badly. He just loves seeing you whine and squirm, your pretty face leaking tears for him. Of course he’ll be nice enough to kiss your tears away and praise you for how good you’re being, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stop.

[fromkenari]

A mass of fools and knaves

The full email exchange between Alex Claremont Diaz and Prince Henry Fox Mountchristen Windsor from Chapter Nine of Red, White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston. Put here for my best friend to read.

A mass of fools and knaves A agcd@eclare45.com                8/10/20 1:04 AM to Henry H, Have you ever read any of Alexander Hamilton’s letters to John Laurens? What am I saying? Of course you haven’t. You’d probably be disinherited for revolutionary sympathies. Well, since I got the boot from the campaign, there is literally nothing for me to do but watch cable news (diligently chipping away at my brain cells by the day) and sort through all my old shit from college. Just looking at papers, thinking: Excellent, yes, I’m so glad I stayed up all night writing this for a 98 in the class, only to get summarily fired from the first job I ever had and exiled to my bedroom! Great job, Alex! Is this how you feel in the palace all the time? It fucking sucks, man. So anyway, I’m going through my college stuff, and I find this analysis I did of Hamilton’s wartime correspondence, and hear me out: I think Hamilton could have been bi. His letters to Laurens are almost as romantic as his letters to his wife. Half of them are signed “Yours” or “Affectionately yrs,” and the last one before Laurens died is signed “Yrs for ever.” I can’t figure out why nobody talks about the possibility of a Founding Father being not straight (outside of Chernow’s biography, which is great btw, see attached bibliography). I mean, I know why, but. Anyway, I found this part of a letter he wrote to Laurens, and it made me think of you. And me, I guess: The truth is I am an unlucky honest man, that speak my sentiments to all and with emphasis. I say this to you because you know it and will not charge me with vanity. I hate Congress—I hate the army—I hate the world—I hate myself. The whole is a mass of fools and knaves; I could almost except you … Thinking about history makes me wonder how I’ll fit into it one day, I guess. And you too. I kinda wish people still wrote like that. History, huh? Bet we could make some. Affectionately yrs, slowly going insane, Alex, First Son of Founding Father Sacrilege

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 239-241). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Re: A mass of fools and knaves Henry hwales@kensingtonemail.com                8/10/20 4:18 AM to A Alex, First Son of Masturbatory Historical Readings: The phrase “see attached bibliography” is the single sexiest thing you have ever written to me. Every time you mention your slow decay inside the White House, I can’t help but feel it’s my fault, and I feel absolutely shit about it. I’m sorry. I should have known better than to turn up at a thing like that. I got carried away; I didn’t think. I know how much that job meant to you. I just want to … you know. Extend the option. If you wanted less of me, and more of that—the work, the uncomplicated things—I would understand. Truly. In any event … Believe it or not, I have actually done a bit of reading on Hamilton, for a number of reasons. First, he was a brilliant writer. Second, I knew you were named after him (the pair of you share an alarming number of traits, by the by: passionate determination, never knowing when to shut up, &c &c). And third, some saucy tart once tried to impugn my virtue against an oil painting of him, and in the halls of memory, some things demand context. Are you angling for a revolutionary soldier role-play scenario? I must inform you, any trace of King George III blood I have would curdle in my very veins and render me useless to you. Or are you suggesting you’d rather exchange passionate letters by candlelight? Should I tell you that when we’re apart, your body comes back to me in dreams? That when I sleep, I see you, the dip of your waist, the freckle above your hip, and when I wake up in the morning, it feels like I’ve just been with you, the phantom touch of your hand on the back of my neck fresh and not imagined? That I can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache? That, for a few moments, I can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all? I think perhaps Hamilton said it better in a letter to Eliza: You engross my thoughts too intirely to allow me to think of any thing else—you not only employ my mind all day; but you intrude upon my sleep. I meet you in every dream—and when I wake I cannot close my eyes again for ruminating on your sweetness. If you did decide to take the option mentioned at the start of this email, I do hope you haven’t read the rest of this rubbish. Regards, Haplessly Romantic Heretic Prince Henry the Utterly Daft

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 241-243). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Re: A mass of fools and knaves A agcd@eclare45.com                8/10/20 5:36 AM to Henry H, Please don’t be stupid. No part of any of this will ever be uncomplicated. Anyway, you should be a writer. You are a writer. Even after all this, I still always feel like I want to know more of you. Does that sound crazy? I just sit here and wonder, who is this person who knows stuff about Hamilton and writes like this? Where does someone like that even come from? How was I so wrong? It’s weird because I always know things about people, gut feelings that usually lead me in more or less the right direction. I do think I got a gut feeling with you, I just didn’t have what I needed in my head to understand it. But I kind of kept chasing it anyway, like I was just going blindly in a certain direction and hoping for the best. I guess that makes you the North Star? I wanna see you again and soon. I keep reading that one paragraph over and over again. You know which one. I want you back here with me. I want your body and I want the rest of you too. And I want to get the fuck out of this house. Watching June and Nora on TV doing appearances without me is torture. We have this annual thing at my dad’s lake house in Texas. Whole long weekend off the grid. There’s a lake with a pier, and my dad always cooks something fucking amazing. You wanna come? I kind of can’t stop thinking about you all sunburned and pretty sitting out there in the country. It’s the weekend after next. If Shaan can talk to Zahra or somebody about flying you into Austin, we can pick you up from there. Say yes? Yrs, Alex P.S. Allen Ginsberg to Peter Orlovsky—1958: Tho I long for the actual sunlight contact between us I miss you like a home. Shine back honey & think of me.

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 243-245). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Re: A mass of fools and knaves Henry hwales@kensingtonemail.com                8/10/20 8:22 PM to A Alex, If I’m north, I shudder to think where in God’s name we’re going. I’m ruminating on identity and your question about where a person like me comes from, and as best as I can explain it, here’s a story: Once, there was a young prince who was born in a castle. His mother was a princess scholar, and his father was the most handsome, feared knight in all the land. As a boy, people would bring him everything he could ever dream of wanting. The most beautiful silk clothes, ripe fruit from the orangery. At times, he was so happy, he felt he would never grow tired of being a prince. He came from a long, long line of princes, but never before had there been a prince quite like him: born with his heart on the outside of his body. When he was small, his family would smile and laugh and say he would grow out of it one day. But as he grew, it stayed where it was, red and visible and alive. He didn’t mind it very much, but every day, the family’s fear grew that the people of the kingdom would soon notice and turn their backs on the prince. His grandmother, the queen, lived in a high tower, where she spoke only of the other princes, past and present, who were born whole. Then, the prince’s father, the knight, was struck down in battle. The lance tore open his armor and his body and left him bleeding in the dust. And so, when the queen sent new clothes, armor for the prince to parcel his heart away safe, the prince’s mother did not stop her. For she was afraid, now: afraid of her son’s heart torn open too. So the prince wore it, and for many years, he believed it was right. Until he met the most devastatingly gorgeous peasant boy from a nearby village who said absolutely ghastly things to him that made him feel alive for the first time in years and who turned out to be the most mad sort of sorcerer, one who could conjure up things like gold and vodka shots and apricot tarts out of absolutely nothing, and the prince’s whole life went up in a puff of dazzling purple smoke, and the kingdom said, “I can’t believe we’re all so surprised.” I’m in for the lake house. I must admit, I’m glad you’re getting out of the house. I worry you may burn the thing down. Does this mean I’ll be meeting your father? I miss you. x Henry P.S. This is mortifying and maudlin and, honestly, I hope you forget it as soon as you’ve read it. P.P.S. From Henry James to Hendrik C. Andersen, 1899: May the terrific U.S.A. be meanwhile not a brute to you. I feel in you a confidence, dear Boy–which to show is a joy to me. My hopes and desires and sympathies right heartily and most firmly, go with you. So keep up your heart, and tell me, as it shapes itself, your (inevitably, I imagine, more or less weird) American story. May, at any rate, tutta quella gente be good to you.

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 245-247). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

[rfsak2]

Spitfire, Pt. 7

This chapter was difficult to write, but I already have parts of the next chapter written so I’m excited. I’m also planning to post a little sneak peak of the next chapter. 

Drop me a line and like if you’re interested!

Spitfire, Pt. 7

Everyone always thought Daryl was the rough one. DarylxOC

Warnings: violence, emotions, injuries, smut under the cut, lots of bad language words, Negan

Part 6

“What do you think, Mitz?”

“Nothin’ good.” She held her rifle scope up to her eye and sighed. “Gotta be 300-plus.”

Rick nodded. “At least.”

She examined the east-bound exit of the quarry through her scope. “That isn’t gonna last much longer.” She passed over the scope to Rick, who in turn passed it to Daryl. 

Glenn sighed, squatting next to her. “I found the plans in the office. It’s a limestone quarry.”

“Limestone?”

“So it’s washin’ away more n’more with every storm.” Daryl passed the scope back to Mitzi.

“Jesus Christ.” Mitzi glanced up at Daryl. “Y’think we can get closer? Just to check.”

Daryl nodded. “If we’re quiet.” 

They walked through the woods bordering the quarry and worked quietly, slowly through the maze of cars left by quarry workers before the Turn.

Mitzi walked around the improvised semi-truck barricade. Daryl stepped up onto the cab to look through the window. “No keys.”

Mitzi picked something up from a tire and jingled it in his direction. “They’re here.” She set them back down. “Musta done this early on.”

Rick squatted to look under the truck. “Yeah. I don’t think it was the quarry workers either. They would’ve chosen a more stable area.”

A walker slipped around the side of one of the rigs and Daryl stuck his knife in its temple.

She stood on the edge of the bluff and looked down at the barricade in the bottom of the quarry. She squatted, holding her scope up. “The barricade down there is more stable, looks like. We’ll have to get closer to check. But I can see a couple sizable gaps. I’ll bet it’s leaking walkers like a mother fucker.”

Rick nodded, arms crossed over his chest. “So walkers are slipping out at that exit and the other exit is going to slip off the rapidly eroding cliff face.” He wiped his hand over his face and hissed when he accidentally tugged at one of his Steri-strips.

Mitzi chuckled. “You good, boss?”

“I forgot I had them.”

She stood and backed up from the edge. “Don’t know how. You’re more bandage than face right now.”

Glenn snickered. “What’s worse is that he was a doctor. Not exactly a prize fighter.” 

“That’s true.” Daryl bit his lip. “Ain’t no reason to be that beat up.”

“Don’t do that…” Rick frowned. “He was a big guy.”

“Ooh…” Mitzi wiggled her fingers. “A big doctor.”

Daryl shrugged. “He was big but he was soft. Coulda taken him.”

Glenn nodded. “Oh, easily.”

“Wouldn’t even take me that long.” Mitzi grinned. 

“Screw all three of y’all.” Rick pointed at the quarry and scoffed. “Why don’t you figure this shit out instead of takin’ the piss outta me?”

“Yes, sir!” She saluted. “Glenn, can you pass me those plans?”

Glenn spread the rolled stack of papers out on the ground and put a rock in the corners to secure them. Mitzi pulled out a folded up map of the area and spread it out above, securing it the same way.

“So this exit,” Glenn pointed out east then back at the map. “This exit goes east on Redding to Alexandria. This south exit would be safer. We wouldn't have to redirect them. Just march ‘em down Marshall Road.”

“Until we start rilin’ them up.” Daryl squatted next to her. “Then they just start pushin’ against the trucks, push ‘em outta the way.”

Rick nodded. “We want a trickle, not a flood.”

Mitzi examined the bottom exit through her scope and sighed. “I doubt there's a way to move those trucks quietly.”

Glenn nodded. “How do we redirect them safely, though? Keep them from marching right down to Alexandria?”

Rick frowned. “Do you think that we can just lead them?”

“Lead them how?” Glenn glanced up at Rick.

“With sound, maybe?”

Mitzi shook her head. “I was hoping for that but honestly, there’s too many of them and the sound wouldn’t be concentrated enough.”

Daryl nodded. “We wouldn’t be able t’just set speakers up n’run. We’d have to stay ahead of them and still risk the ones in the back gettin’ distracted and wanderin’ off.”

“Let’s just do that then?” Glenn pointed at the map. “Let’s just get people to lead them. Drive a car ahead of them.”

Mitzi shook her head. “It’s the same problem though. The one’s in the back will wander off.”

Rick nodded. “We can keep ‘em in line using sound. Any of them start wandering, we fire a shot or two, pull ‘em back.”

Daryl squinted at the map. “I can use the bike, it’s louder.”

Rick started nodding even as she was getting ready to protest. “That’s a good-”

“No, it isn’t.” Mitzi stared at Rick as if he had two heads. “If somethin’ happens, there’s nothin’ to protect you, baby. At least with a car, we can close the doors if somethin’ happens and we get surrounded.”

“Can’t surround me if they can’t catch me.” Daryl looked offended at the very suggestion. 

“Oh, so we just plan for the scenario we want now? No contingency-”

“This is something y’all can discuss at home, not here with over 300 of your nearest and deadest.” Glenn whisper-shouted. “Focus, please.”

Mitzi frowned. “Don’t know when you got so fuckin’ bossy, little brother.”

“Mildred Elizabeth.” 

“Fuckin’ fine.” She huffed and Daryl reached over to squeeze her shoulder. 

“It’ll be alright, Spitfire.”

“Y’better fuckin’ hope so. I won’t forgive you if you die. Dickhead.”

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

**

“Now what I’m proposing, I know it sounds risky, but walkers are already slipping through the exits. One of the trucks keeping walkers in could go off the edge any day now. Maybe after one more hard rain.” Rick paused. “That exit sends them east. All of them. Right at us. This isn’t about if it gives, it’s when. It’s gonna happen. That’s why we have t’do it soon.”

One of the Alexandrians shifted nervously. “Isn’t that why we have walls? Can’t we just wait it out?”

“A herd like that will flatten those walls.” Mitzi spoke up, sitting in the windowsill by Daryl. “Walkers don’t feel pain. They will just push up against the walls until their combined weight pushes the wall over. Regardless, we will need to be out there redirectin’ them with sound. It’s best t’do as far out as we can so they don’t get anywhere near us.”

Carol nodded, still play-acting, eyes big and vulnerable. “This is- I don’t even have another word for it. This is terrifying. All of it. But it doesn’t sound like there’s any other way.”

Carter frowned. “Maybe there is. I mean couldn’t we just build up the weak spots? I could draw up plans. I worked on the wall with Reg.” He cast an anxious look around. “Construction crew, we can try to make it safe.”

“There are no strong spots.” Mitzi sucked on her tongue. “The exits were not strategically placed to begin with. The limestone was bound to wash away at some point and that point is now. One of those rigs is maybe half a foot from going over. Buildin’ it up might make it stable for a bit but it’s bound to fail at some point.”

“But if it buys us more time?”

“More time to do what? Sit around with our thumbs up our asses, hopin’ and prayin’ that the truck is still up and there aren’t 300 rottin’, walkin’ corpses headin’ our way?” Mitzi chuckled. “This world is not a wait n’see kinda world anymore. It’s move n’decide. We can’t leave this to be future-us’ problem.”

Rick nodded. “Even if it worked, the sound of those walkers is drawing more and more everyday. Building up the exits won’t change that.”

“Make it worse in the long run.”

“We’re gonna do what Rick and Mitzi say.” Everyone turned to where Deanna was looking out the window. “The plan they’ve laid out.”

Rick nodded. “I told you all, we’re gonna have Daryl leading them away.”

Sasha nodded and caught her eye, then nodded at Daryl. “Me too. I’ll take a car ride next to him. Can’t just be him. I’ll keep ‘em coming, Daryl keeps ‘em from getting sloppy.”

Mitzi smiled at Sasha. “Thanks, Sash.”

Abraham nodded in front of her. “I’ll go with her. That’s a long way to white-knuckle it solo.”

“We’ll have two teams. One on each side of the forest, helping to manage this thing. We’re gonna find a way to get Mitzi up above the treeline, so she can catch any walkers that get too far outta line. She’ll also man the radio keeping everyone on the same page.”

Tobin nodded. “There’s an old 50-foot bucket truck we can use. I think it’s still at the construction site.”

Carter frowned. “Why does she get to be up there?’

Mitzi snorted. “Get? Ima ‘bouta be 50 feet in the air in a bucket. One that likely makes a shit-ton of noise on the way up and down. You’re welcome to it if y’got the stones.”

Carter clenched his jaw and dismissed her with a flippant hand gesture.

Daryl sucked on his tongue loudly. “She’s made killshots at 3400 yards. Y’ever do that?” Carter colored and Daryl made a face, one hand landing on her thigh. “There y’go.”

“Daryl’s right.” Rick shot them a look. “Mitzi is a sniper. She’s the only one I’d trust to not accidentally hit one of us by accident.”

She grinned at Daryl and mouthed, ‘down boy.’ He rolled his eyes and squeezed her thigh.

“We’re gonna have a few people on watch from now on. Rosita, Spencer and Holly. So they’re out.” He paused. “So who’s in?”

They were a handful of hesitant affirmative replies, Michonne, Glenn, even Gabriel attempted to volunteer only to be shot down by Rick.

“No. Who else? We need more.”

“There’s gotta be another play.” Carter stuttered out. “We can’t just control that many.”

Rick sighed. “I said it before, walkers herd up. They’ll follow a path if something’s drawing them. That’s how we can get ‘em all at once.”

“So what? We’re just supposed to take your word for it? We’re all supposed to just fall in line behind you after-”

There was a lengthy pause and Rick stepped forward. “After what?”

Carter swallowed. “After you wave a gun around, screaming, pointing it at people. After you shoot a man in the face. After you-”

Deanna whirled around. “Enough!”

**

“Mitzi! What’s happening?”

“Dunno.” She turned and looked and set her rifle on the railing of the bucket. Looking through her scope, she lifted the radio and cussed vilely. “Alexandria’s under attack.”

“By who?”

“How the fuck should I know? I’m in a bucket 50 feet off the ground, two miles away.” She looked over the railing at the ground. “And I can’t get down.” 

“Why? Are ya pinned down?” Daryl sounded anxious.

“I’m not exactly pinned down but if I start the lift, there’s a good chance it draws anyone undead in my immediate vicinity. It’s a loud sumabitch. Fuckin’ goddamn it! We shoulda built a blind instead.”

“It’s okay.” Rick’s voice soothed over the radio. “You were right that it probably wasn’t going to be tall enough. You do what you can.”

“Like fuckin’ watch? ‘Cause that’s all I can do right now.”

“You are Captain Mildred E. Dixon.” Abraham’s voice crackled over the radio. “You can do a damn sight more up there than most people can do on their own two feet. Light ‘em up!”

“I agree.” Rick sounded more amused than he had a right to. “Assist how you can and get down when you can.”

She breathed deep. “Right. Guess I’m breaking that record after all.”

“I can turn around? If ya need help down.”

She smiled despite herself. “Nah, I’m good, baby. Y'all come back and get me when you’re done.”

“Y’sure?”

“Daryl, stay focused.”

“I’m fine, D. Promise. Upside, nothin’ can get me up here.” She chuckled. “Y’all just don’t forget me. We didn’t have time to set a car out here for me. If things get dicier, I’m hoofin’ it back”

“I don’t like this, Spitfire.”

“It’ll be okay. Love ya.” 

“You too. Stay safe, baby.”

She adjusted in the bin, putting her back against one side of the bucket and leveling her rifle with the other. “I’m gonna go quiet for a bit, y’all. Don’t be surprised if ya don’t hear from me.”

She set the radio down and braced her rifle against her shoulder. She looked through her scope and focused on the main gate. It was open which meant that she had more of a line of sight than she had honestly been expecting. 

She breathed deep, aimed at the forehead of someone she did not know. She paused, seeing the W carved there and cursed. She grabbed her radio.

“It’s those assholes with the W’s!” She threw the walkie back down, ignoring the responses.

She breathed deep, focusing on the W. She fired. The man crumbled to the pavement. 

She breathed out and ejected the shell, slid the bolt home. 

Breathe in.

A walker this time. 

Breathe out.

Fire.

Bolt.

She continued in that pattern for longer than she could keep track of. Someone turned, she saw the W. 

Breathe in. 

Aim. 

Breathe out. 

Fire.

Bolt.

**

She saw a fuel tanker come barrelling down the road and cursed. Her body felt heavy and hot but she dragged her rifle back up and aimed at the driver’s side of the windshield. 

She sighed and reached for her radio.

“Hey, baby.” She chuckled as Daryl slammed on the brakes.

“Spitfire?”

“Can ya get me down?” She looked down at the area around the truck. “I keep easin’ down, but every time I run it for longer than five minutes my friends come back. Ain’t gonna lie, feel a bit like a rockstar up here. I got groupies for days.”

“How many groupies do you have?” Abraham drawled.

“‘Bout twenty-thirty?”

“Not much of a fan club.” 

“Fuck you, Abraham Ford.” She chuckled. “They wander off and then come back, sometimes with more. It’s hard to track.”

“A’ight.” Through her scope she saw Daryl toss the radio over to Sasha and throw the truck in reverse. “Start the lift again. We’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

“Will do.” She breathed deep and reached for the control panel. Hoisting herself up, she started up the back-up power and started the lift. She counted the walkers as they meandered over to the truck. “Heads up, my fan club is in session and currently numbers around twenty-five-ish.”

Sasha’s voice came over the radio next, the tanker turning down the gravel road Mitzi was suspended over.. “You been up there this whole time?”

She laughed, her voice hoarse. “Yeah.”

“Jesus Christ. Mitz, you shoulda tried to get down earlier.”

“Have been tryin’.” She paused, briefly nauseous, her head spinning. “That’s the other thing, though. I managed to ration my water ‘til ‘bout four-five hours ago but I’m fuckin’ starvin’, still probably dehydrated, and I’m pretty sure I have sun poisoning or whatever. Wasn’t too keen on gettin’ down when I hadn’t quite figured out how I was gonna get home.”

“How about the truck you’re in?” Daryl suggested. “What kinda shape is it in?”

“I’ve been drainin’ the battery for sure, so that’s a problem, but not the only problem. The walkers crowd on all sides so I can’t clear it fast enough to jump down and get in the truck. Not as sluggish as I feel.”

There was some rustling over the radio and Sasha came back on the radio. “What about Rick?”

“Oh, that plan got fucked to hell. He, somehow, I dunno, was walking ahead of a couple hundred walkers. I imagine he had a similar kinda day to me. He’s checked in with me since getting home, but they’re pinned down. Can’t get out to come get me.” She waved weakly at them when they stepped out of their truck. “Hey, guys.”

They held the walkers at bay as she lowered the bucket down all the way. When it was flush to the truck, Daryl helped her climb out, steadying her as her knees wobbled under her.

He clenched his jaw and handed her down to Abraham as Sasha kept their way back to the truck clear.

Settled, rather tightly between Sasha and Daryl, Mitzi leaned over and jacked up the AC, accepting the bottle of water Abraham passed her.

“You have the worst sunburn I’ve ever seen.” Sasha pressed gently at Mitzi’s forehead. “You’re definitely dehydrated. I think I have an old candy bar or something.” She rifled through her pack, passing her an old snickers bar. “You’re gonna freckle like a bitch.”

Mitzi chuckled, her voice still raspy despite the water she had drank. She leaned heavily on Daryl, who was struggling to split his attention between driving and tsking at her as he anxiously assessed her condition, and opened her snickers.

Abraham, hilariously shoved up against the passenger window, hummed. “Why didn’t you shoot your way out?”

Mitzi reached down and opened her pack, tossing him three empty magazines. “We’re lucky the soldier in me thought to grab those. I was only bringing my rifle to line the bucket up correctly with the parade route. Wasn’t expecting to stay up there.”

Abraham glanced back at her. “You used all of these on the pricks that attacked home?”

She shook her head. “There weren’t quite that many of them. I took down maybe ten?” She shrugged. “I used the rest to take down the walkers that followed Rick home. They gotta be stacked ten deep around the walls by now.”

Daryl huffed. “Fuck.”

“Yep.” She looked over at Abraham. “Where the fuck did you find dress blues that fit your brick shit house ass? And why are you wearing them?”

**

“I want to be in here with him.”

Daryl started shaking his head before Denise could speak. “Spitfire, you need to lay down. There’s not another bed in here.”

Mitzi frowned. “Don’t wanna lay down. I’ll sit down, but I wanna be in here with Carl.”

Denise nodded. “I have an armchair that should be low enough to keep fluids flowing.” She glanced at Daryl. “Will that be okay?”

Daryl sighed. “Will it work just as good as if she was lying down?”

“Laying down would be better, for sure,” She paused and glanced down at Mitzi, a little pointed. “But I’d rather have her sitting and resting than having to force her to stay in bed.”

Mitzi looked up at Daryl. 

Daryl nodded. “A’ight. Where’s the chair?”

He brought the chair in and set his hands on her shoulders, gently guiding her down. “You ain’t gonna leave this chair, Mitz, y’hear?” 

“I won’t, promise.” 

He pressed a kiss to her head, trying to avoid her sunburns. “Rosita’s gonna stitch me up, I’ll be back.” “Okay, baby.” She turned to watch him leave, chuckling when she realized he had set the chair at an angle that he could watch her as Rosita worked on him. Catching his eyes, she smiled and felt her body melt into the chair.

Denise buzzed around her, bringing over a broom turned into a makeshift IV pole and an IV bag of saline. Wrapping a tourniquet around her bicep, Denise started to palpitate at Mitzi’s elbow. 

She tsked, tapping at a vein. 

Mitzi looked down at her. “What?”

“I don’t know if it’s the dehydration or the tattoos, probably both, but your veins are impossible.” She released the tourniquet and moved to tie it around Mitzi’s wrist. She tapped at the prominent vein at the back of Mitzi’s hand and nodded, rubbing an alcohol wipe over the area quickly. “Quick pinch.”

Mitzi didn’t react, eyes on Carl. “Is he gonna be okay?”

Denise smiled and hooked up the IV. “I think so. His vital signs are more stable.”

Mitzi breathed deep and smiled up at her. “Thank you.”

Denise nodded. “Let’s look at your face.”

A few minutes later, creams applied and stitches tied, Daryl came and sat on the floor next to her. “He’ll be alright.”

She nodded and scratched over his scalp with her free hand.

Daryl looked back at her. “He’s tough.”

She smiled. “He is. Just like his daddy.”

Rick breathed heavily, looking up at them for the first time. “I think he’s tough like his auntie. You taught him most everything he knows on that front.” He smiled, exhausted and drawn. 

“I did, didn’t I?” She chuckled before shrugging. “I mean… I taught him a lot but not nearly everything.”

“You did.” He sighed. “Thanks for that, by the way. For treating him like your own blood. Helping me help him make it. Giving him a chance to grow up.”

She waved him off. “We ain’t gonna talk like that today, Richard. Carl is gonna live and keep growing up. No more morose shit.”

He smiled and nodded. “Sorry for leavin’ ya up there, Mitz.”

She shrugged. “Honestly, better than the alternative.”

Leaning over, she reached for Carl’s hand and squeezed it gently. 

**

“Mitz!”

“In here, babe.”

Daryl leaned against the doorsill. “Almost done?”

Mitzi smiled and batted her eyes at him. “Why? You walkin’ me home, stud?”

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “No. Gonna walk y’somewhere else.”

She arched an eyebrow and looked down at the pistol she was reassembling. “Ooh… color me intrigued. Where are we going?”

He shrugged. “Guess you’ll hafta finish up to find out.”

She shot him a comically suspicious look and set to cleaning up her work space, putting tools, solvents and now-clean rifles and pistols away. Wiping her hands on a clean rag, she moved to lean up against him and pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth.

“That all y’got?”

She smiled. “Olivia’s somewhere ‘round here. I already make her anxious, don’t need to add to it.”

“She likes ya better than ya think.” He pressed a kiss to her head. “Two of ya are just different. I don’t think she knows what t’say to ya.”

She shrugged. “Regardless, I don’t try to stress her out. Let her have her peace. She’s a nice woman.” She motioned to the door and turned to lock the armory behind her. “Lead on, Dixon.”

“A’ight.” He held the door for her and smiled softly down at her. “Missus.”

She smiled up at him and nodded at Jeannie, an Alexandrian she had recently been training on the rifle.

The woman smiled brightly at Mitzi and nodded back. “Hot date?”

Mitzi chuckled and looked up at Daryl. “Always.”

Daryl grumbled under his breath and made for the main gate. “C’mon.”

She chuckled and lengthened her stride to make up the distance between them. She hooked her hand in his elbow and stretched up to land a kiss to his cheek. “Love you.”

He hummed and smirked when, affronted, she pinched his side. He let them out of the main gate and into the forest. They walked in relative silence for ten minutes, Daryl picking his way through the tangled underbrush as Mitzi followed behind. 

He slowed their pace as they entered a small clearing, full of wildflowers. She smiled and looked up at him. “This really is a hot date, huh?” 

Daryl blushed and grabbed her hand, leading her further into the clearing. After making sure the area was clear, Daryl spread out a blanket he had stashed out here and they settled back against a fallen log.

She leaned against his shoulder and soaked up the peace and quiet.

After a while, Daryl dug something out of his pocket and passed it to her. She straightened and smiled. Pinched between his fingers was a wedding band set, a silver ring with a diamond and a matching silver band.

Taking it from him, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Daryl, we been married.”

He nodded. “Know that.” He shrugged and held up his left hand. On his fourth finger, sat a silver band. “I’ve been lookin’ ever since the prison, but most of the jewelry shops down in Georgia had been looted. Found one with Rick when we were out yesterday.”

She smiled and slipped the ring on her left ring finger. “There.”

“Looks good on ya.”

She leaned up and caught his mouth in a kiss, fisting her hand in his shirt as he deepened the kiss.

Pulling away, she smiled. “Should take this home, yeah?”

They made it home in record time, what had been a fifteen-minute journey, ending in their bedoom barely eight minutes later.

She pulled her shirt off over her head and framed Daryl’s face in her hands, drawing him down into a kiss. He slid his vest off, throwing it over a nearby chair and reaching back to pull his button up over his head without unbuttoning it.

Attaching her lips to his clavicle, she moaned, stepping in to press as close to him as possible. She moved to mouth at his jaw. “I love you, Daryl Dixon.”

He caught her lips and backed her toward the bed, tongue slipping into her mouth. Opening her jeans, he slid his hands down the back of her pants, palming her ass. “I love you, too, Mitzi Dixon.” He hummed and kissed her again, biting gently at her lips. He pulled away, wrapping his arm around her waist as she stepped free of her jeans. 

She pushed at his waistband fruitlessly and huffed when he wouldn’t let her push back far enough to get his pants undone. 

She looked up, prepared to fuss at him and tilted her head at his expression, soft and vulnerable. “What?”

He shrugged. “Never liked my last name until you started wearing it.”

She smiled brilliantly, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. “Never liked my last name until I started wearing yours.”

He chuckled and pressed his forehead to hers. He kissed her again, deeper, more intimate, swallowing her groans and holding her to him. She sighed as he moved them closer to the bed, her knees bending instinctually when they hit the bed. 

He urged her toward the head of the bed, moving to follow her down when her head hit the pillow. 

She stopped him. “Jeans, Dixon.”

He grinned and undid his belt, maintaining eye contact as he pushed his pants down and stepped free of them. 

She sat up on her knees and pulled him into a kiss, hand drifting down to ghost over the head of his penis.

He moaned into her mouth and pushed her back gently. He nodded at the center of the bed. “Wanna eat you out.”

She laid back, holding a hand out to him, and pulled him onto the bed next to her. Settling over her, he mouthed at the swell of her breast and ran a hand down over her belly. She arched into him and gasped when he sucked his thumb into his mouth before thrumming at her clit with quick movements. 

He pressed his forehead to hers and rubbed his fingers down over her core, pulling wetness up to her clit. He ghosted his lips over hers and maintained eye contact, tutting mockingly when her eyes grew heavy. 

“Keep lookin’ at me, baby.”

She breathed deep and locked her eyes with his, biting her lip when he eased a finger into her, thumb still thrumming at her clit.

He kept the pace deliberately slow, pulling away completely when she tried to rush the pace by rolling her hips into his hand.

She huffed, frustrated despite the building heat in her belly. She looked down, neck arching to get a look at his hand. He tsked, his free hand grabbing her jaw and redirecting her eyes to his. She gasped as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her mouth, feeding another finger into her.

“Keep those pretty eyes up here.” He grinned when she whined in response.

“You never useta be a tease, D.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Y’bring out the best in me.” Eyes hot on hers, he sped up the motion of his fingers only to all but stop a minute later.

She let out another noise of wordless frustration. “Please, baby.” He hummed and she squirmed against him, trying to speed him up. “Please, what?”

She reached up and petted his face, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Just a little faster, baby, please.”

He cooed at her. “Not enough for ya?”

Shaking her head, she dug her fingernails into his shoulder. 

“That’s too bad, I’m havin’ fun.”

She whimpered and he rewarded her, adding a third finger. Gasping against the burn, she arched hard into him and held his eyes as her walls fluttered around his fingers. 

Moaning against her mouth, he laughed. “Guess it was enough. Or are you just that easy for me?”

“It’s you, baby.” She nodded, mouth open and gasping against his, eyes still locked on him. “You’re so fuckin’ hot.”

He grinned and sucked his fingers into his mouth. “Taste good, baby.” He kissed her hard and then dragged his mouth down her body, his eyes closing as he sucked her nipple into his mouth.

“My pretty baby.” He mouthed at her belly and then held her gaze as he moved to lick up her slit with one broad swipe of his tongue.

She moaned and reached for him, digging her hands through his hair. “Daryl, please.”

He pressed an ironically chaste kiss to her clit. “Say my name again.”

“Daryl.” She drew it out, almost rolling the r, back arching and toes curling as he treated her with little kitten licks to her clit. 

He pressed his face to her and worked at her earnestly, sucking her clit into his mouth and pressing his fingers back inside her. “Yer so hot n’wet, baby.”

She nodded, twisting her fingers, inadvertently pulling at his hair. Groaning, he rutted his hips into the bed. “For me?”

“Always for you.”

He shifted to lick down at where she was stretched around his fingers. “That’s right. All mine. My pretty little wife.” He muttered, almost to himself, and attached his lips to her clit again, angling his fingers so they battered up against that spot right behind her pubic bone. 

She arched so hard that he hooked his free arm around her hips, pinning her to the bed. A couple more hard thrusts of his hand and she seized up against him. 

Moaning his name, she collapsed bonelessly. “Fuck, D.”

He kissed her, laying over her like a heated blanket. “Pretty when y’cum.” She reached down to trail her fingers over his dick. He pulled his hips away. “Almost there. Just want y’to catch your breath.”

She smiled and nodded. “I’m good.”

He moved to lay next to her, arranging her back against him. “Not too sensitive?” 

She flinched minutely when he petted over her core lightly. “A bit, but sometimes that makes it even better.”

He turned her head to kiss her. “No rush though.”

She reached down, swiped her hand through her own wetness and wrapped her hand around him.

He moaned into her mouth and she pulled gently at him, pressing kisses to his jaw as his neck arched. 

“You’re so gorgeous, D.”

He pressed his face to her shoulder and groaned into her skin. Pulling away, he batted her hand out of the way and drew her leg back over his hip. They both groaned as he rutted himself up into her. 

The position required more of a grinding motion than either of them preferred, but it didn’t take long for the heat to build again. 

He reached up and cupped her breasts, using his hold on her to grind her harder back into him.

“I’m almost there, baby.”

He grunted, nodding against her jaw. “Me too.” He moved one hand down from her breasts and pinched her clit. She came with a shout of his name, Daryl following soon after. 

**

“So, how’d you get out?”

“One guard can’t cover two exits.” Jesus was smug, more smug than Mitzi thought he ought to be. “Or third floor windows. Knots untie and locks get picked. Entropy comes from order, right?”

“Right.” Daryl drawled.

He glanced up at Daryl as he came to stand next to her, all rolling shoulders and angry breathing. He shifted so Mitzi was behind him, cheek pressed to his bicep to peer around him.

“I’m not going to hurt her.” Jesus seemed vaguely offended. 

“I know you ain’t.” Daryl scoffed. “You couldn’t handle her on her worst day. I’m protectin’ you if anythin’.”

“From what?’

“Me, asshole.” Mitzi grinned, teeth bared. “I was lookin’ forward to the tapioca I saw in that truck, the one that’s now at the bottom of the lake.”

Jesus appraised her and seemed to come to the conclusion that they were exaggerating. “I checked out your arsenal. I haven’t seen anything like that in a long time. You’re well-equipped, but your provisions are low.” He sighed. “Very low for the amount of people you have. 54?” He asked Rick.

Maggie crossed her arms, Glenn leaning forward, pistol on the table, on her other side. “More than that.”

Jesus remained unconvinced. “Well, I appreciate the cookie. My compliments to the chef.”

“Yeah. She ain’t here.” Daryl rasped, still holding his revolver in his gun hand.

“Look, we got off to a bad start.”

Mitzi snorted. “Y’mean when you tried to rob us?”

He glanced at her then up at Daryl. “But we’re on the same side - the living side. Y’all had every reason to leave me out there, but you didn’t. I’m from a place that’s a lot like this one.” He glanced around the table. “Part of my job is searching out other settlements to trade with. I took your truck because my community needs things, and you looked like trouble,” Jesus looked at Mitzi and smiled. “Especially you.” He shrugged. “But I was wrong.”

“No, you weren’t.” Rick nodded. “She is trouble.”

She reached out and shoved Rick’s shoulder, flipping him the bird.

Daryl crossed his arms across his chest, leaning back against her. “Y’lucky you didn’t come ‘cross just her.”

Jesus looked mildly, playfully shocked. 

“Kinda wished she had been out there by herself.” Rick rubbed over his face. 

Daryl nodded. “Woulda road-hauled his ass.”

“We woulda had that truck.”

Mitzi grinned. “Guess I’ll start doin’ runs by myself then?”

“No, y’won’t.”

Jesus smiled, more genuinely. “You’re good people and this is a good place. I think our communities may be in a position to help each other.”

Glenn spoke up. “Do you have food?”

“We’ve started to raise livestock. We scavenge, we grow. Everything from tomatoes to sorghum.”

“Tell us why we should believe you.”

“I’ll show you.” He smiled around the table. “If we take a car, I can take you back home in a day, and you can all see for yourselves who we are and what we have to offer.”

**

Rick pushed off the desk he had been leaning against. “We heard the name Negan. While back, Daryl and Abraham had a run-in with his men. Who is he?”

“Negan’s the head of a group of  people he calls the Saviors. As soon as the walls were built, the Saviors showed up.” Jesus sighed. “They met with Gregory on behalf of their boss. They made a lot of demands, even more threats. And they killed one of us, Rory, he was sixteen years old. They beat him to death right in front of us. Said we needed to understand, right off the bat. Gregory’s not exactly good at confrontation.” He shrugged. “He’s not the leader I would’ve chosen, but he helped make this place what it is and the people like him.”

Maggie nodded. “He made the deal.”

“Half of everything. Our supplies, our crops, our livestock, it goes to the Saviors.”

“What do you get in return?”

Jesus smiled at Glenn, holding his hands up as if to say ‘this’. “They don’t attack this place. They don’t kill us.”

Daryl set his hands on the back of the couch Mitzi was sitting on. “Why not just kill them?”

“Most of the people here don’t even know how to fight, even if we had ammo.”

“Have you tried trainin’ people?” Mitzi sat forward. “You have the numbers and damn tall walls. With a little training, it wouldn’t matter if you had ammo.”

Jesus shrugged helplessly. “I was prepared to but Gregory forbade me.”

“Forbade?” Mitzi tsked. “That chickenshit just rolled on over, huh? Decreed that you couldn’t fight back. What a fuckin’ dick.”

Rick stepped forward. “Well, how many people does Negan have?”

“We don’t know.” Jesus sighed. “We’ve seen groups as big as 20.”

“Now, hol’up.” Daryl rasped. “So, they show up, they kill a kid, and you give them half of everything? These dicks just got a good story.” He paced around the couch. “The boogeyman, he ain’t shit.”

“Well, how do you know?”

“The bells and whistles ain’t necessary if you ain’t afraid and you ain’t afraid if you have real power.” Mitzi nodded. “They’re just bullies on a really fucked schoolyard.” 

Abraham nodded. “A month ago, we took his guys out PDQ. Left them in pieces and puddles.”

Daryl glanced down at Mitzi. She nodded. “You know, we’ll do it. If we go get your man back, kill Negan, take out his boys, will you hook us up? We want food, medicine and one of them cows.”

Jesus looked at Rick who shrugged. “Confrontation’s never been something we’ve had trouble with.” Rick turned to Mitzi. “What do you think?”

“I’m for it.” Mitzi crossed her arms over her chest. “There are a lot of unknowns but I think if we can get some answers, we can get it done, easy-peesy.”

Jesus nodded, still unsure. “I’ll take it to Gregory.”

After Jesus left, they walked out onto the balcony to get some air and take stock of the settlement.

“They have food. We don’t.” Rick spoke softly, still trying to convince the more reticent group members, namely Maggie and Michonne. “We don’t have enough of anything. Except us. What we can do.” He turned back to the group, nodding. “This is the trade.”

Maggie sighed. “It’s gonna cost us somethin’.”

Mitzi nodded. “Yeah, it will. But it’s something we’re gonna end up paying one way or another.”

“Are we sure that this is worth that price?” Michonne shrugged. “What if we wade into something we don’t wanna be a part of.” 

Setting her hands on her hips, Mitzi sighed. “I wasn’t getting the impression that Jesus was exaggerating. It lines up with what Sasha and Daryl told me about runnin’ into them.”

Michonne leaned back against the railing. “Jesus doesn’t come across as someone who’d lie to get us to do something for them.”

“These assholes had the cajones to stop a fuel tanker with motorcycles.” Mitzi rubbed at her face. “They’re gonna come for us and since everyone else is rollin’ over and showin’ their bellies, they are gonna expect us to as well. Best to get rid of them now.”

Glenn nodded. “We aren’t assassins though.”

“No, we're soldiers.” She smiled sadly. “Soldiers get paid to kill people, too.”

Glenn stared at her and reached over to squeeze her shoulder.

**

She settled next to Daryl in the pew, patting his thigh as he ran his arm along the back of the pew behind her.

Rick stood and began to explain the current situation to the Alexandrians that hadn’t gone with them. “We can work with the Hilltop. Maggie hammered out a deal. We’re getting food, eggs, butter, fresh vegetables. But they’re not just giving it away. These Saviors, they almost killed Sasha, Daryl, and Abraham on the road. Now, sooner or later, they would’ve found us, just like those Wolves did, just like Jesus did. They would’ve killed someone, or some of us, and then they would try to own us. And we would try to stop them, but by then, in that kind of fight, low on food, we could lose. This is the only way to be sure, as sure as we can get, that we win. And we have to win. We do this for the Hilltop, it’s how we keep this place. It’s how we feed this place. This needs to be a group decision. If anybody objects, here’s your chance to say your piece.”

There was silence before someone stood in the back of the church. 

Morgan shuffled, looking down at the ground. “You’re sure we can do it? We can beat them?”

Rick considered him quietly, before glancing down at Mitzi. “What this group has done, what we’ve learned, what we’ve become, all of us- yes, I’m sure.”

Mitzi nodded. “They aren’t like super soldiers or nothin’. I dealt with assholes like this all through my military career. You got a narcissistic leader and all the little worker bees he’s scared into doing his bidding. He strong-arm’s some people, intimidation, big shows of force, but he’s only holding on because of the fear. We can beat ‘em.”

Morgan seemed to be working himself up to something. “Then all we have to do is just tell them that.”

Rick stuttered, floored by Morgan’s naivety. “Well, they don’t compromise.”

“This isn’t a compromise. This is a choice you give them. It’s a way out for them and for us.”

Mitzi leaned forward, Daryl running his hand over her back. “Look, I understand, this is a hard thing to contemplate doin’, but we gotta. In order for what you’re suggestin’ to work, they have to believe that we can do it. As much, if not more, than we believe it ourselves. This Negan guy doesn’t know us from Adam. He is not going to believe us, just because we tell him so.” 

Morgan shook his head, still looking down. “We should try, though. Try to tell them.”

“Not if it risks our lives.” Mitzi stood. “I don’t know you that well, Morgan, but I have done what you’re askin’ us t’do. I have walked up to the warlord’s office and said, ‘surrender or we’ll kill you’.” She snorted. “And that was while I was wearing a US Army uniform, holding my rifle, the full authority of the US government behind my every word. It still didn’t go well, not consistently enough to make it worth it. It got people killed, people that didn’t need to die, and it will get people killed now.”

Sighing, Morgan turned to address her. “Why did you choose to do that, if you didn’t think it’d work?”

“I didn’t choose nothin’. My commander said ‘go and do’ and I went and did.” She threw her hands in the air, sitting back down. “My choice would've been to take them out with as minimal cost to my men as I could. Just like we need to take these guys out with minimal loss of our people’s lives.”

Rick nodded. “We try and talk to the Saviors, we give up our advantage, our safety. No. We have to come for them before they can come for us. We can’t leave them alive.”

“Where there is life, there is possibility.”

Mitzi’s jaw dropped but Rick beat her to it. “Of them hitting us.”

“We’re not trapped in this. None of you are trapped in this.”

“Morgan. They always come back.”

Morgan sighed. “Come back when they’re dead too.”

“Yeah, we’ll stop them. We have before.”

Morgan looked down. “I’m not talking about the walkers.”

Mitzi stood again. “The only time I have ever seen someone after they died, in the way I think you’re alluding to, whether it be in nightmares or flashbacks, it was when I didn’t act and the person or persons I failed to kill took out one of my people. I have regretted the deaths of a large number of people, but never the death of some wannabe dictator like this asshole.”

Rick breathed deep. “Morgan wants to talk to them first. I think that would be a mistake, but it’s not up to me. I’ll talk to the people still at home. I’ll discuss it with the people on guard now, too, but who else wants to approach the Saviors, talk to them first?”

**

“Mitzi will take point. It’s her plan and she is by far the most experienced at this.” Rick nodded to her and she stepped forward, hand holding Daryl’s loosely.

Mitzi sucked in a breath. “We don’t know exactly what we’ll find when we breach those doors. We don’t know what the layout of the building is, not exactly. So we’ll have to do this slower than we would’ve liked. We’ll draw out the guards with Andy. When one of them goes back in to grab the hostage we’ll move in, killing the guard that stays outside.”

“What if they both go back in?”

She smiled at Aaron. “They won’t. If they do, this’ll be much easier.”

He looked confused. “Why?”

“Because that will mean they don’t have a clue what they’re doing. One will stay out to keep an eye on Andy while the other goes in to get the hostage-”

“Craig.” Andy cut in. 

“Craig.” Mitzi nodded. “Once the second guard is dead, Andy and Craig, whose condition is unknown but not likely to be good, will take off back to Hilltop. At that point, we’ll breach.” She sighed. “Because we don’t know the layout, we’ll go room by room, splitting into teams to cover hallways as we come to them. Use your knife as long as you can but you will have to neutralize everyone you come across. We can’t risk them comin’ up behind us, dead or alive.”

“Neutralize?”

She shrugged at Gabriel. “Best word for it. I don’t have time to sugarcoat anything today. Kill them and make sure they don’t get back up. Points to remember: This is a buddy system sorta thing. One is trigger-ready, the other opens the door. Be as fast as you can but safety and quiet is more important.” She breathed deep, looking out at the assembled men and women. “This sucks and most of y’all ain’t never had to consider this before. I’m sorry, but we need us t’do this. Let’s get all of us home.”

Everyone nodded and Mitzi checked her magazine almost out of habit and slid it back in, toggling the rifle to automatic. 

Heath passed by her and she stopped him. “I’ve seen you shoot. You’re a good shot, but start bending your elbows when you aim. You’ll have more control and stamina. The tension should be in your biceps, not your elbows.”

He nodded, nervousness written all over his posture. 

She squeezed his shoulder. “Stay on me. I got ya.”

He wandered over to Glenn and she felt Daryl’s hand on her waist. He stood from the hood of the car and pulled her gently to him.

She turned and buried her face in his chest. Breathing deep, he pressed his nose to her hair. “You okay?”

She shrugged. “I know this is the right move, the only move, but I have a feelin’ we’re about to start somethin’.”

He nodded. “I feel it too.”

She breathed deep and stood straight, nodding as she squared her shoulders. She moved to leave and he stopped her, pressing a kiss to her mouth quickly. 

“Love ya, Spitfire.”

She smiled and knocked some of the hair out of his eyes. “I love you too, baby.” 

**

She stepped in front of Carl, clenching her jaw as the gray-haired dickwad that had been on their tail all day, held his hands up in parody of surrender. 

He grinned, standing to his full height as if that would intimidate her. “I’m just talkin’ to him, sugar. Don’t worry, I don’t decide who dies.”

She pulled her pistol from the holster and shoved it and the AK she had been using against his chest. She thanked whatever god applied that she had had the inkling to hide her M110 before leaving Alexandria.

He stumbled back, holding her weapons and the handgun he had taken off of Carl, jaw flexing as he decided how he was gonna react to her. In the end, he grinned and reached over her shoulder to flick at Carl’s hat.

“See? No harm, no foul.” He turned to shove the guns at some flunkie and smiled at them. “Okay. Let’s get her down and get you all on your knees. Lots to cover.”

Abraham, Sasha, Aaron and Rick lowered Maggie as gently as they could, helping her to her knees. Rick, shell-shocked and overwhelmed, gaped at the small army surrounding him. 

The head-prick approached almost politely. “I’m gonna need you on your knees.”

Mitzi grabbed Carl’s hand and drew him to the ground next to her. He moved to say something and she shook her head.

Once they were all settled, head-prick hollered at another flunkie. “Dwight! Chop-Chop.”

Her jaw clenched when Michonne, Glenn, Rosita and Daryl emerged from the van. Daryl caught her eye from across the group, pale and obviously wounded. 

Glenn was the last out, settling to his knees with a plaintive, “Maggie?”

Head-Prick smiled and backed up to the RV. “Alright! We have a full boat. Let’s meet the man.” He rapped on the side wall and moved away from the door. 

“Pissin’ our pants yet?” The man held a bat over his shoulder and grinned. “Boy, do I have a feeling we’re getting close.” He paced the length of the group, staring down into their faces. “Yep. It’s gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon. Which one of you pricks is the leader?”

“It’s this one. He’s the guy.”

He sighed and approached Rick with slow unbothered steps. “Hi. You’re Rick, right? I’m Negan. And I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people, you killed more of my people. Not cool. Not cool. You have no idea how not cool that shit is. But I think you’re gonna be up to speed shortly. Yeah. You are so gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes.” He grinned again. “Yes, you are. You see Rick, whatever you go, no matter what, you don’t mess with the new world order. The new world order is this, and it is really very simple. So, even if you’re stupid, which you very well may be, you can understand it. You ready? Here goes, pay attention.” 

He swung the bat down, pointing it over Rick’s shoulder. “Give me your shit, or I will kill you.” 

He chuckled and Mitzi dug her fingers into her thighs to avoid jumping clean over Sasha and wrapping her hands around his throat. 

“Today was career day. We invested a lot so that you would know who I am and what I can do.” He sauntered a few steps down the line and held his bat up pointing at Rick. “You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me. That’s your job. Now I know that that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you most certainly will. You ruled the roost. You built something. You thought you were safe, I get it. But the word is out, you are not safe, not even close. In fact, you are pegged. More pegged if you don’t do what I want. And what I want is half your shit. And if that’s too much, you can make, find or steal more, and it’ll even out sooner or later. This is your way of life now, the more you fight back, the harder it will be. So, if someone knocks on your door, you let us in, we own that door. You try to stop us and we will knock it down.”

He stopped. “You understand?” He held his hand over his ear. “What? No answer? You don’t really think that you were gonna get through this without being punished now, did you? I don’t want to kill you people. Just want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me. You can’t do that if you’re dead, now, can you? I’m not growing a garden. But you killed my people, a whole damn lot of them. More than I’m comfortable with. And for that, you’re gonna pay. So now, I’m gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you.” He brought the bat up, showing it to Rick. “This… This is Lucille, and she is awesome. All this, all this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor.” 

He stopped in front of Abraham, who stared back at him, jaw set, shoulders pulled back. Negan smiled. “Huh.” Running a hand over his beard, he looked over at Mitzi. “I gotta shave this shit.” 

He sauntered over to Mitzi. “You related to Big Red over there?”

Mitzi stared back, unflinchingly, seething when he had the audacity to laugh. He squatted in front of her. “No answer, baby?”

She grit her teeth and vaguely contemplated headbutting the asshole. Daryl knew her too well, however, and shifted forward on his knees. “Spitfire. Don’t.”

“Spitfire?” He grinned. “What an interesting name. I’ll bet, with a name like that, that you have a classic red headed temper. Always did like a red headed woman. They are fiery, sexy, and so much fun.”

She didn’t answer, didn’t flinch when he pushed into her space, almost nose to nose with her. She stayed still, eyes on his, as he raised a hand to tug on a loose spiral. She stared back at him, head high, shoulders squared.

He looked up, ostensibly to address his audience, but Mitzi knew the truth. He had lost the staring match. 

“What is the probability that one group will have two unrelated gingers, much less two gingers like these motherfuckers? Tough as nails, I swear. Neither of them have fuckin’ flinched.” 

There was a small smattering of hollow laughter and he looked back down at her. 

“You are the toughest broad I have ever had the absolute pleasure to have on her knees for me. But I reckon that he might be a tad bit tougher than you.” He winked. “You’re prettier than he is, baby, don’t worry.”

She arched an eyebrow and her lip curled. “I ain’t.”

Part 8

[finrays]

Horizon Tag Game?

Stole this one from @foibles-fables

1.ride or die ship (your otp): It may be abnormal, but I don’t really ship things except in like… an offhanded “Oh that might be cute” kind of way. Just not what comes into my head when I consume media. I’ve never been ride or die for a ship in my life.

2. most annoying ship: The Odyssey, because it brought the Zeniths back

3. second favourite ship: The one that rammed the Horus off of San Francisco

4. favourite platonic relationship: NOW we’re speaking my language; these games are SO GOOD about friendships, it’s hard to pick just one. I could talk about ALL of them for DAYS.

But I’ll focus in on one; I absolutely LOVE the Erend-Varl dynamic. They have such a feeling of “We’re both smart, capable men but when we’re together, we just discard all our brain cells and do stupid shit for fun,” and they both SORELY need it, I love it so much. And! They also have good talks about their feelings; Erend specifically mentions sitting down with Varl and having a beer and a good talk, and I love the shit out of it.

5. underrated ship: That’s all the ships I know of in this game… maybe there will be others in H3? The Skiff from Burning Shores is pretty fun, even if there ARE Waterwings that outclass it.

6. overrated ship: The ones that foundered on the way from the Quen homeland, probably, I bet they hyped those fuckers up and then they SANK the minute they hit a typhoon. Shameful.

7. one thing i would change in canon: So fucking much. I’ve written numerous posts about this before. And the cheap answer would be my ecology rants, lol. But…

I think I’m with Foibs on this one; Zeniths as the ultimate antagonists of H3. Imagine spending the entire time in FW learning about the Claw-Back. About how the world was reeled back from the brink of ecological collapse. And imagine, sprinkled throughout, we have the voices of the people who are currently returning on the Odyssey; Gerard, standing in the way of a coastal restoration project, because he could make money off of beachfront condos. Erik, being called in to break up a protest with vicious efficiency. Walter, being nonchalant about the radiation his rockets produce. All these people, putting selfishness and profit above people and planet. We get a chance to really dig our teeth into hating them for a reason. There are bits and pieces of this in the Canon As is of FW, but you have to HUNT them down. Imagine these people being front and center.

And then imagine we finally see the Zeniths at the end of the game. And we realize with a start…

…we’ve heard their voices before.

Thematically, the 1% coming back to take the planet after the hard work of restoring it is done, and Aloy and Co putting down their feet and going “NO” is much more satisfying a narrative to me than “Oh noooo, there’s a Big Bad AI coming” but I’m not in charge of the writing, I’m counting fish halfway across the world. So.

8. something canon did right: I’m literally spitting down HFW’s throat for this. I’m slamming its face into a bench covered in wet paint. I make NO apologies whatsoever for this brand of criticism because it’s one of my Pet Soapbox Issues. The ecology stuff is just for fun. This is Serious Times.

But the first game NAILED their scientist characters. All of them felt so much like people I’ve met in the field. Which is to say, HUMAN people, driven by passion, hope, fear, EMOTION. They really, really did well with it.

And then totally threw it out the window in the second game, but that’s another rant entirely.

9. a thing i'm proud of creating for the fandom PLEASE BRAG ABOUT YOURSELF I WANT TO SEE/READ YOUR ART: Here’s my AO3 if you want it.

10. a character who is perfect to me (wouldn't change a thing): I… don’t have one, actually. Even the characters I love dearly were, I think, mishandled in many ways that I don’t agree with. I think Alva comes closest. But even she, I have some notes for, as far as gameplay/story separation goes… they could have done a better job with everyone.

11. the character i relate to the most and why: Elisabet. 100%. She’s my favorite for a reason. When I was 16, I decided on my career trajectory for similar reasons to hers; I wanted to help. I wanted to make the world a better place. To see that actually represented in a character focused in the sciences is… shockingly rare. Additionally? Our personalities ended up being fairly similar as well. High anxiety, very strongly introverted, cares deeply but has weird/nonstandard ways of showing it, trouble connecting with people… I really feel like this is the closest I’ve seen to seeing myself represented onscreen, and it’s in a positive light this time! Mostly! I love it and I love her so much.

12. character(-s) i hate the most and why: I don’t think I outright hate any characters in this series outside the narrative sense? There are ones I don’t understand the appeal of. There are ones I’m puzzled by. But it’s not really personal. It’s not hatred. Like, even Ted, who’s SUPER fun to hate on, is well-fitted to his role. And that’s pretty cool.

13. something i've learned from the fandom: They will make it so much worse than you could have ever imagined (both affectionate and derogatory.)

14. three tags i seek out on ao3: I don’t browse AO3! I take fic recs from friends, mostly.

15. a song i strongly associate with my otp/favourite character: Crossing the Bar for Elisabet. It’s such a melancholy song that captures that moment where she left GAIA Prime so perfectly… I can’t listen to it without thinking about her, asking her friends not to say goodbye and to take care of each other. Knowing what was coming. Gives me the sads, man.

tagging: I feel that since I stole it, I should just tell you to steal it too.

[satans-left-asscheeky]

Fallout 4 companions reactions to Sole leveling up to the point they don't even need a weapon or armor anymore since they can just kill any enemy with one punch and can't take damage from their attacks (Like Saitama)

Maccready

"Yeah, yeah, nice one boss, but can you do a 360 no scope?"

I mean, sure, it's impressive and all, but Mac's never really cared about melee or unarmed. Because it's not his element, he's not able to fully appreciate how awesome it actually is. With that being said, he'd be extra careful not to piss them off because just one punch and he's done for.

Hancock

"Just when I think I've seen it all...."

He was half expecting them to tell him they were joking about the whole fists of steel thing... I mean, stranger things have happened, but this is pretty high on his list of weird shit. He'd offer them some buffout, mostly because he wanted to see how much chaos they could cause without even touching a gun

Cait

"Where the hell did ya learn that!?"

She's extremely jealous of sole. She'd spent her whole life learning to fight, and she couldn't even do that, but the prewar vaultie stumbled out into the world and somehow had magic fists? Just her luck.

Danse

"Outstanding hit soldier. Put you in a suit of power armor, and you'd be damn near invincible"

At first, he assumed it was a one-time thing, but once he realized they could consistently do that, things changed a bit. With their consent, he'd bring them to Cade to see if medically there was any explanation for their inhuman strength. Moreover, he'd end up really admiring them and their abilities, though he did find it annoying how they refused to wear armor.

Curie

"You must be very strong to be able to do that!"

She'd ask a million questions about Sole's strength. It definitely intrigued her how they were even able to get so strong in the first place. Did everyone have the ability to get this strong? Was sole the outlier? It was just so fascinating!

Deacon

"Did someone order a knuckle sandwich? No, but seriously, not even a helmet? You do know snipers are still a thing, right?"

I mean, yeah, the super fist thing is impressive and all, but surely they're not actually invincible... but then again, that's probably just the good old paranoia talking again... probably

Piper

"Jesus Blue, remind me not to piss you off"

She'd kinda be a bit freaked out. I mean, she'd heard of a chems that could increase strength, but this goes beyond buffout... This newfound strength has her wondering, where was this macho vaultie when she ran into trouble getting intel?

Nick

"Hey, I'm all for the good cop, bad cop dichotomy, but be sure to only cut lose on the bad guys, okay?"

Well, color him impressed. He's seen a lot in his artificially long life, but this took the cake. If used right, this gift of theirs could really help keep people safe.... but if used wrong... Nick was cautiously optimistic, noting sole had never done anything to make him doubt them before so why should he start now?

Preston

"Woah... Glad you're on our side general. I'm not sure what we'd do if you weren't......."

Hes willing to bet they didn't even need that power armor and mini gun the day they met... They easily are the strongest minuteman in all of history, guess he made the right call making them general.

X6-88

"Well done, Sir/Ma'am. Though I'd suggest you make sure not to let the power go to your head and at least wear some armor"

He doesn't care how strong they are. A stray bullet can still prove fatal, and it was just foolish to think you were above wounds because of your strength

[demonytekav]

Fluff Humor short Drabble

Katsuki loses a bet/game and as the loser has to do the bidding of the winner.

Kaminari tells him “The next person to walk through the door you have to kiss them.”

The group laughs, mainly the Bakusquad and a few others, while Katsuki curses him out and grumps about it but accepts the challenge because he “ain’t no bitch”. Everyone hoping it’s Mineta just so they can laugh their asses off.

Some time passes and no one enters into the common room. The punishment is mostly forgotten until Izuku walks into the room seemingly to check out what all the noise is on his way to get something to drink in the kitchen.

The room goes quiet before Katsuki jumps up. “Nerd! Come here.” He demands calmly pointing to the floor by his feet locking eyes with the shorter boy.

Izuku sensing himself in danger looks at Katsuki with suspicion before shaking his head slightly. “Nuh uh.” He says immediately turning around and definitely NOT speed walking out of the room.

He’s followed by a bellowing Katsuki demanding he get his “ass back here” and moves quicker because whatever it was that Kacchan wanted couldn’t be good.

Later when a smug Katsuki and disheveled Izuku walk back into the room Kaminari snorts and tells him “Bro, you didn’t have to make out with him. A kiss on the cheek would have done it. Having you lose to me in the game was more than enough.” Hoping to embarrass the other blonde for going above and beyond.

Katsuki just smirks and says “I don’t half ass shit. Even a bet.”

A “Kacchan” rings out and it makes the blonde pause since it doesn’t sound as sweet or fond as usual. Slowly he turns toward Izuku and notices the shorter boy is frowning at him. Angrily.

“Yeah?” He gulps noticing how still and quiet Izuku is. ‘Not good’ Katsuki thinks.

“Did you kiss me for punishment game?”

The blonde opens and closes his mouth as dread fills him. “I mean, uh…..yes but no?” He gets out, sweat building on his palms because while he did kiss Izuku because of the punishment game he also did it because he wanted to. Katsuki knows full well he wouldn’t have open mouth kissed anyone else that’s for sure. Maybe a back of the hand peck but certainly not tongue on tongue action.

“Come here.” Izuku demands and points to the floor in front of him, mirroring what Katsuki had done earlier but with more….subdued rage.

Katsuki stalls for a second before turning. “Nope.” He replies as he hurriedly begins to put distance between him and the ball of anger now chasing behind him.

“Oh come on Kacchan, why are you running? I’m not going to hurt you.” Izuku smoothly says sounding sweet but Katsuki knows he’s going to be anything but.

The class watches in awe as big bad Katsuki Bakugo runs with his tail tucked between his legs as sweet ever smiling Izuku chasing him all the way outside the dorm and to who knows where. They debate on helping for half a minute before shrugging their shoulders with the consensus that “They will work it out. Eventually.”

A/N: Just had a random small idea I wanted to jot down. I didn’t really clean it up or edit it but I hope you like the idea. It made me giggle. Thanks for reading! Have a good night/day!