#miles blathers

[galadriel-blue]

THE TRAILER CAME OUT I AM ESTATIC!

Spoilers for Rings of Power Season 2 below the cut!

OH MY GOODNESS I AM GOING FERAL GALADRIEL IS SO PRETTY!! AND SHE HAS A BOW AND ARROW I AM LIVING MY BEST LIFE RIGHT NOW! It is a crime that we have to wait until THE END OF AUGUST for the show to come out, but it will be worth it! But look at my girl! Look at her! I am seriously shaking I love her! Her hair!!! I am going to be unwell about this forever and ever-

[avatarofthelonely]

of course it was

[mudwerks]

“Musk didn’t create an environment where the team wanted to stay,” sources told Bloomberg.

Musk faces fines if Twitter’s gutted child safety team becomes overwhelmed | Ars Technica

I think this is the key aspect of the drama. And this quote flatly states the obvious and overwhelming problem. 

People like mr. munk seem to truly believe that they are doing exciting and uplifting things, and that everyone will be clamoring for a plum position in this wonderful fantasy scenario. 

Meanwhile mr. munk is creating an extremely unpleasant workplace through his inability to manage humans. Good employees leave, they can get a good job at a well-managed operation. The people you end up retaining over time are the people who don’t have easy opportunities elsewhere. 

A GOOD leader who has poor communication skills will eventually realize they need someone ELSE to fulfill this human to human management role. Unfortunately mr. munk feels NO ONE but himself can possibly make this work. (maga? anyone?)

Engineers are humans, they have human needs. I’ve managed computer engineers. This is the opposite of the workplace you need to create to get people ready to voluntarily work long and hard, because they love what they are doing AND are being treated with the respect and remuneration they deserve.

[kudzucataclysm]

the nec. might be too fucking big goddammit

[withahappyrefrain]

Long Day

Summary: you help Bob unwind after a long day.

Warnings: Not much plot, just porn. Thigh riding, daddy kink, edging, soft dom!Bob but also he's kinda mean? Spitting, choking, Dom/sub roles, praise kink, some Hangman slander (sorry, I love him), Sassy Bob at the end. Sorry, this is pure filth, I should probably go to church or something.

This was created for @wicked-blathers' Kink or Treat challenge! Thanks for letting me write straight up porn.

The sound of the door to your bungalow house opening didn't startle you. After all, it was around the time when your husband was scheduled to get home.

Even your multiple animals knew that, as they hopped off the bed to go greet Bob. So you stayed put, continuing to read.

"Darlin'?"

The first thing you noticed was that Bob was still in his flight suit. That meant he drove straight home instead of showering at base. His normally well-kept and gelled hair was gone, replaced by loose curls that fell over his forehead. His breath was ragged, as if he had just run several miles.

And his eyes.

You could hardly see the beautiful blue hue. They were dark. Nearly black.

"Long day?" You asked.

Bob simply nodded his head, the corners of his mouth turning slightly upright, his brow still knitted together, jaw still tense.

"Can you talk about it?" You put your book down, motioning to the space next to you on the bed. Certain details Bob couldn't share, like exactly why he had been asked back to Top Gun, other than for an important mission.

Bob simply nodded his head as he closed the door before walking over to your shared bed. He sat down, leaving room between your bodies.

You placed a hand on his, giving him time to think. The last couple days of training had been hard. You also knew that the last thing Bob wanted to do was make you worry.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Your eyes scanned his body, looking for any marks or injuries. If it was serious, you would have received a call from the doctor on base. But the nature of Bob's job was quite intense and it was common for some days to be tougher than others.

He chuckled as he shook his head, his long fingers tracing circles on the soft skin of your bare thighs.

Despite what everyone else thought, Bob wasn't quiet or reserved around you. He was comfortable opening up and saying what was on his mind.

So when he didn't, usually it meant something.

You leaned in, your forehead brushing against his, your fingers gently threading themselves in the soft curls at the back of his neck, "What do you need Robby?"

There was a pause, his eyes scanning your face, his pursed together in deep thought before he spoke.

"You. I need you."

His drawl sent a shiver down your spine. You nodded in understanding. It wasn't the first time one of you had asked the other of this. Although you worked in two different fields, you both had stressful jobs. Some days the only way to unwind, to forget about whatever had happened or was bothering you, was to take control elsewhere.

But you always asked first. Which was why Bob was still sitting, waiting for your answer.

"You have me. All of me."

Bob flashed that slightly crooked (yet absolutely endearing) smile before capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

You climbed into his lap, now very thankful that the summer heat caused you to ditch your shorts earlier, leaving you in only a t-shirt.

His hands cupped the sides of your face, tilting your head up to deepen the kiss. Your hands moved down to the zipper of Bob's flight suit, beginning to pull it down. A large hand stopped your's.

"Who said you could do that?" His voice was low and his words came out in a near growl.

So he had one of those days.

"I'm sorry." You put your hands behind your back, making a show of it so he could see.

The chuckle he let out went right to your core. His sweetness was what made you fall head over heels for him. You knew he'd never harm a single hair on your head.

But when he got like this? Deep, confident, dark, and demanding? You couldn't deny it.

You loved it just as much as you loved the tender kisses and gentle touches he gives you.

Maybe even more.

Bob moved so his long legs were now over the bed, his feet touching the floor. He placed his hands on your hips, moving you so that you were now straddling one of his thighs. A gasp fell from your lips as he pushed your hips back and then towards him, the thin cotton of your panties rubbing against the thick material of his flight suit.

"You can touch me darlin'. In fact, I'll let you even ride me," one of his large hands gripped your jawline, "but don't you dare make a mess."

You couldn't hold back the whimpers as he bounced his thigh up, meeting your core. His hands slide up your (his) t-shirt, squeezing your breasts. With great ease, he found your nipples, his fingers tweaking and tugging on the hardening buds.

You were at his mercy and wouldn't have it any other way. He titled his head up, capturing your lips with his in a desperate kiss. Without any hesitation, you parted your lips, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth.

"Ya close?" Bob asked in-between sloppy kisses. You could only nod, your hips rocking against his thigh in a desperate attempt to chase that high.

"Good," was all he said before lifting you up by your thighs, pushing you down into the mattress. Your thighs clenched, that high drifting away from the loss of contact.

Bob shook his head at the pathetic whine you let out.

"You know the rules darlin'. When are ya gonna come?"

You knew the answer. Bob knew that. But that wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"Not until Daddy says I can."

The way his nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply told you that was exactly what he wanted. He attached his mouth to your neck, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh.

"D-Daddy," you whined, your fingers clawing at the flight suit Bob still had on.

Getting the message, your husband quickly broke away from your neck to pull the suit off, placing his glasses on the nightstand, tugging the black t-shirt over his head before connecting his lips back to yours.

His mouth moved from your neck down to your breasts, sinking his teeth into your soft flesh. Your nails dug into his broad shoulders as Bob used your body like a canvas, painting bruises and marks onto it with his mouth.

Your hips couldn't help but buck into his, desperate for some type of friction. Bob shook his head, using his knees to spread your legs apart as he wrapped a hand around your throat, his fingers holding your head in place without adding pressure.

His fingers brushed against your clothed core. Bob couldn't help but chuckle upon hearing you gasp. His touch was like fire, sending sparks of pleasure throughout your body.

His fingers began to draw circles against your clit, pressing in so you could feel it through the fabric of your panties. His other hand began to apply pressure around your throat, his deep blue eyes watching you intently.

"I bet I could get ya to come just from this," He whispered. That Midwestern drawl came out during heated moments like this. It added to the thrill of seeing him like this. To everyone else, Bob was quiet, reserved, and couldn't harm a fly.

But you knew what he was capable of. Not that he was mean for the sake of being mean. It came from a need to feel control, after years of being overlooked and underestimated.

You were more than happy to help feed that desire.

All you could do was whimper as he continued to use his thumb to apply pressure against your clit. His other fingers traced downwards, pressing into the fabric, into your entrance.

"Are ya? Are you gonna come just from this?"

You shook your head, barely able to get out more than a choked no. Your fingers clawed at his bare back, not caring what kind of mark they left.

Bob liked it and wouldn't complain.

He cocked an eyebrow in mocked confusion at your answer, "Why not? Isn't that what ya want darlin'?"

He loosens his grip on your throat, silently telling you that he expects a proper response.

Despite your head spinning, your body feeling warm and fuzzy as his fingers continue their tortured ministrations on your clothed cunt, you manage to get out a coherent response.

"C-can't come until Daddy says s-so."

"Such a smart girl," He cooed, the praise setting your skin ablaze.

His fingers continued to push you closer to that forbidden edge. You tried to prepare yourself for the eventual loss of contact, but that was so hard when his grip around your throat tightened, leaving you gasping for air.

So you couldn't help but whine pathetically when his fingers left the spot between your legs, leaving you once again so close to the edge, just needing a little more to push you over the ledge.

"Sorry darlin, but I like seeing you squirm. You're real cute when you can't come, ya know that?" He whispered in your ear, his breath hot on your skin.

You could ask for him to stop. To just fuck you and let you come all over his cock without any of this. Bob would do it, would drop the act as soon as you asked him to.

But where was the fun in that?

So instead you simply nodded your head, lifting your hips up as he pulled down your soaked panties.

"What'cha want baby? My fingers or my mouth?" He was letting you choose the method of torture.

How generous.

"F-fingers," you whined. His large hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs.

"Ya sure? Ya don't want my mouth on your pussy?" People thought because Bob didn't curse, he was pure and clean.

They were wrong.

You shook your head, fighting the urge to hide your face with your hands. Instead, your fingers dug into the smooth skin of his back.

"But I thought you liked it," He teased, "Ya always say how much ya love my tongue on your clit."

God, were folks fucking wrong about Bob.

"I-I do b-but," words were beginning to fail you. Your entire body was hot and all you wanted was for Bob to touch you.

"But what darlin'?"

"Don't… don't wanna come b-before D-daddy says I-I can," how you managed to get that one out as Bob's fingers began to trace along your slit, was beyond you.

He chuckled before pressing his lips to your temple, a gesture you normally found sweet and endearing, but in this moment, felt like confirmation of the torture you were about to embark on.

"Good girl." His words sent a shiver down your spine, his voice low, sending heat to your core.

It was something you two had tried out recently. At first, Bob was hesitant towards the idea, as it felt more like torture than pleasurable. But then he saw how you would squirm and wither underneath him, how he could reduce you to a blubbering, begging mess without even fucking you.

He loved it.

A high pitch whine fell from your lips as you felt him enter one finger, then two, stretching you out. He continued until his knuckles were at your entrance, the cool metal of his wedding ring (that he always wore at home) resting against your heated skin.

As he began to build up a rhythm, curling his fingers to quickly find that spot that sent you into overdrive, the heel of his hand began to brush against your clit as his fingers thrusted into you.

Maybe mouth would have been the less torturous method.

The pace Bob set up, how his fingers would stretch your walls, find that sweet spot with such precision, was torturous and delightful all at the same time. You never wanted it to end, he was ridiculously good with his fingers.

Your hips couldn't help but thrust up, trying to meet the heel of his hand to stimulate your throbbing clit.

Bob noticed this right away (noticing details was part of his job description). He couldn't help but smirk at the frustrated whine you let out when he angled the heel of his hand away from your body, your hips pathetically meeting nothing but air.

His lips turned to form a pout that mocked the one that adorned your face, "What's wrong baby? Ya need something from Daddy?"

All you could do was nod, your body desperately searching for that little extra stimulation to push you over the edge.

Bob laughed, low and dark, "That's too damn bad."

He withdrew his fingers, your aching cunt clenching around nothing. Without thinking, you squeezed your thighs together in an attempt to soothe the ache.

"Don't you fuckin' dare."

Bob placed his knees onto your thighs, keeping them apart. One of his hands had pinned your wrists above your head, the other gripping the soft flesh of your hips, effectively pinning you to the bed.

The two of you laid like that, the room filled with your panting. His stare was burning into your skin, but you couldn't look away.

"I-I'm sorry Daddy. I'm so sorry, I'll be good, I promise," you panted, desperate to convince him so Bob would let you come sooner rather than later.

He simply stared you down, his hand moving up from your hips to your jawline.

So you continued your begging, "L-let me show you. Please. I can be good Daddy, just let me show-"

"Stick out your tongue."

Your eyes widened at his demand because holy shit was he actually going to do this? It was something you had confessed to him after too many mimosas at brunch. The look of pure shock, almost borderline horror on Bob's face was quite the sight. You honestly were surprised he didn't pass out at the time, considering it was still early in your relationship.

Your tongue darted past your lips. His thin lips formed into a smirk as his face now hovered over your's.

Somewhere, your Feminist Theory 101 professor was screaming as you felt wettness, Bob’s saliva now on your tongue.

He watched as you swallowed, his eyes widening as he saw your throat bob. He too was partly in shock from what he just did.

"Color," Bob asked, his sapphire eyes studying every detail of your face, searching for any signs of discomfort.

"Green. So fucking green."

"It-it wasn't too much?" He asked, resembling the shy, bespectacled WSO you came to know, love, and marry.

"Not at all. But if you're still unsure, you could check down there to see how fucking turned on I am from that," you teased.

“Fuck,” was all he said before quickly moving down your body, his head now in-between your legs.

Before you could say anything, his tongue slowly moved through your folds in long, slow, licks. Your head fell backwards onto the pillow.

His mouth made you believe in a higher being. Before meeting Bob, you didn't know it was possible for someone's mouth to feel that good.

Bob didn't realize until he met you that some guys don't try to make their partners come from oral. And he was very quick to rectify that wrong the universe had somehow allowed.

Your hands dug into broad shoulders. You could see the muscles of his back contort as he gripped your thighs, allowing himself better access to your cunt.

He chuckled at the gasp you let out when his tongue flicked against your clit. Bob loved watching you react to his ministrations. Folks always assumed since you were the loud, outspoken one in public, it was no different in the bedroom. And while Bob didn't believe in the toxic idea of "needing to assert his dominance", it also didn't mean he never took control.

Which was while when he felt your cunt beginning to tighten around the one finger he thrusted into your entrance (you didn't deserve any, but he was feeling generous), when your whines increased in pitch, the muscles of your thighs clenching as his tongue lapped at your clit, he couldn't help but grin.

Only he got to see you like this. Only he got to make you like this. All desperate and whiney for something, anything. Trying so hard to hold back a pathetic whine from the loss of contact, full of desire for him. Your whole being aching for that sweet release. Bob loved watching the internal battle that played out in your big, beautiful eyes. How you craved him, yet you didn't dare you move or make your displeasure at not yet coming explicitly known.

He simply wrapped his arms around your waist, using his strength to roll onto his back, your body now on top of his.

"Show me."

Your head was spinning from the sudden movement, your body still trying to recover from Bob's mouth. All you could get out was a muffled "huh?".

"Show me how bad you wanna come," He grunted, his fingers digging into the supple flesh of your hips. You could only stare blankly at him.

Bob was a pretty patient man, he grew up with four sisters and had eight nieces and nephews under the age of eight.

But you weren't the only one who wanted to come.

With a low huff, he grabbed your hips, moving you down until your soaked core was right above his hardened cock. Even with the fabric of his boxer briefs acting as a barrier between your skin and his, you could feel his erection.

Your head fell back as Bob's hands moved your hips back and forth, your cunt brushing over his thick cock.

"Daddy," you whined. You could feel his cock twitch at the name, which drove you wild. The guy who couldn't even muster up the courage to come up and talk to you at the bar had turned you into a withering mess, somehow making it impossible for you to speak coherently despite not having fucked you yet.

"One more edge darlin'," you whined at his words, the thought of having to rub yourself against his cock and not be able to come sounding like torture.

So you shook your head, "I-I can't, pl-please dadd-"

"Yes you can," His voice was soft, a large thumb coming up to your face to stroke your cheek, wiping away a tear.

You tried to shake your head, tried to simultaneously explain that you couldn't and to beg Bob to let you come.

Your ramblings were met with a slap to one of your thighs. His wedding ring added a layer of hot, twisted pain that made you moan.

"Either do it now or you're not coming until tomorrow afternoon."

He would do it. He had done it before and it was pure torture. Memories of Bob bending you over the kitchen counter, the couch, the stairs and never knowing if he was going to torture you with his fingers, mouth, or cock came flooding back.

Not today. You needed to come within the next twenty minutes, not twenty hours.

So you leaned forward, placing your hands on his defined chest for support. You grind your hips down, your aching core rubbing against his throbbing erection.

It was torment. It was the closest you had gotten to his cock and you could feel your walls clenching in a pathetic attempt to hold onto him. As your hips increased in speed, you found yourself clawing at his smooth skin, leaving marks that would be quite visible tomorrow.

Bob simply watched, enjoying you falling apart more than he'll ever admit. He could say something about the marks and hickeys you're leaving, but the small, smug part of him that he usually does a great job of managing and hiding was dominating today. Maybe it was the two hundred push ups he had to do or Hangman's comments.

Whatever the source, he wasn't stopping you.

"You're getting close, aren't ya?" He cooed. You picked up your head that was resting against his chest, nodding weakly.

"Ya gonna come?" You shook your head, though your hips kept moving. It felt so fucking good, the way the material of his boxer briefs provided a delicious friction against your clit.

“You should stop soon darlin. Don’t wanna come before Daddy says ya can, right?” You nodded at his words, though that didn’t stop you from moving your hips back and forth.

Which is why Bob didn’t feel bad bringing his large hands up to your neck, his fingers able to completely cover the skin from your jawline to your collarbone. The action forced you to look at him, into those blue eyes that drove you wild.

“C’mon darlin’. Be a good girl f'me, will ya?"

You whined as your hips stilled, moving your body off of your husband and onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress.

"Robby," you whined and that's what did it. Not sir, not Lieutenant, not Daddy, not Bob. But that nickname you bestowed onto him the night you two first met, the name only you get to call him, no one else. The way it roll off your tongue so naturally, like you were always made to call him that, how it went with your bright smile and beaming eyes, was what made Bob realize that even though he couldn't physically bring you the stars and the moon, he'd spend the rest of his life finding and bringing you equivalents he deemed worthy enough for you.

That's what led him to quickly tug off his boxers, to open the drawer of the nightstand so hard, you're pretty sure he pulled it all the way out, with the clatter of everything falling to the bedroom floor except the bottle of lube he was clutching. But your head was far too fuzzy to think about that right now.

You whined his name again as he hovered over you, lining his cock to your entrance. Your hands reached out, desperate to hold onto him.

"I know, I know, been such'a good girl," He praised as he pushed push your folds. The moan forming in your throat tore through you as you felt him stretch your walls, inch by inch.

"Please, please, I need," you couldn't even finish your sentence. What did you need? Release? Reprieve? Reassurance?

Bob grabbed your thighs, lifting them so they were around his waist. The new angle made his thrusts even deeper, causing your moans to increase in volume.

"I know, you've been so good for me. Let go darlin'," his voice was soothing.

You threw your head back, letting him thrust into you. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge you desperately craved. Your fingers dug into his back, heightening his pleasure.

Bob couldn't help but chuckle, "Ya gonna leave marks on me darlin'. What am I gonna tell folks tomorrow?"

"T-that you fuck your wife so -s'good."

Maybe it was the fact the most coherent sentence you had been able to verbalize since he got home was praise for him. Maybe it was the fact that after two years of marriage he still couldn't get over the fact you were 'his wife'.

Whatever it was, it made him determined to push you over that edge. The sound you let out when his fingers rubbed tight circles on your clit was probably going to get you a noise complaint. That is, if folks were able to hear it over the sound of skin slapping against skin and the headboard slamming against the wall with every thrust.

“Rob-Daddy- I-”

“Come.” HIs voice was gruff and hoarse, juxtaposing the gentle kiss he gave to your forehead immediately after his order. With one more thrust, you fell apart on his cock.

You were chanting something as your walls clenched around him. Perhaps it was his name, perhaps it was one of the several nicknames he liked to be called in bed. Perhaps it was words of thanks for granting you permission to come. Your thighs trembled as Bob fucked you through your high, heightening the intense pleasure you were experiencing.

His fingers continued drawing circles on your clit, using your wetness. Jolts of pleasure shot through your body, sensitivity quickly overtaking your cunt. You threw your head back. It wasn’t a shock Bob hadn’t come yet. Despite how quickly he blushed and stammered when he first met you, he had a surprisingly high stamina.

Your hands threaded through his hair, gripping the sun kissed locks. It only spurs him on; how you whine your name, how you coated him with your slick, how much you came, Christ, he knew the sheets would have to be changed after this. The pain brought on by you tugging on his hair led him to grip the headboard of your shared bed, allowing him to thrust into you even deeper.

“Gimme one more. Ya can do that f’me, right darlin’?” The noises you made in response were incoherent as you shook your head. The corners of your eyes were blurred with tears, something that Bob would never admit out loud how it made his cock twitch.

Bob pulled his head away from yours, studying as if he was analyzing an F/A-18 rather than the face of his wife. Like hell if you were only going to come once in bed with him. That never happened before and it sure wasn’t going to start now. He just had to push you over.

“Open.”

Your eyes widened, your walls around his cock clenching at the command. Bob couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight of your parted lips. His large hand that was gripping the headboard came down to your cheeks, his fingers gripping the sides of your cheeks.

His saliva landed directly in your mouth. You swallowed with zero hesitation, your eyes never leaving his.

Bob couldn’t help but chuckle. He wasn’t one to talk about his personal life at work; hell, he was pretty sure only Phoenix and Rooster knew he was married. But he knew the assumptions folk made about him, he had been dealing with it for most of his life.

He could only imagine their shock upon learning that Robert “Baby on Board” Floyd just made his wife come again by spitting in her mouth.

He’d never get tired of watching you come. You were so pretty with your parted lips, half-closed eyes, a pure look of bliss adorning your beautiful features. How your fingernails would dig into the skin of his shoulder at the exact same time your cunt seized around his cock.

He came with a hard thrust, grunting as he felt himself empty inside of you. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, panting in an attempt to catch his breath. Your nose nuzzled against his temple, finding solace in his breathing.

“Ya okay?” He asked into your neck. You nodded your head, but that didn’t stop him from looking at you, studying your face for any signs of discomfort, “What’s my name?”

You smiled, “You’re my Robby.”

Bob smiled, the tips of his ears turning red at your affection. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips before wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Let’s get cleaned up, ‘kay?” You nodded your head, wrapping your legs around his waist. You buried your head into his neck.

“Oh….I’ll….fix that later.” You lifted up your head to see what your husband was referring to.

Bob had indeed, in his haste to get the lube, pulled out the entire drawer from your nightstand, the contents spilling out onto the floor.

“How bad of a day was it?”

“Hangman’s an asshole,” was all he said as he carried you to the bathroom.

“Probably because he doesn’t get fucked,” You laughed as Bob placed you on the toilet while he turned on the water to the shower.

“That man will not shut up about what he does after work, I think it’s just a personality defect.” Bob reached a hand out towards you. You took it, allowing him to pull you into the shower.

“Yeah, he talks about getting laid, but has he ever come in with a scratch or hickey? Or does he just look unnaturally smooth and scratch free like a new Ken doll?” Your comment earned a laugh from Bob.

“And they say I’m the observant one,” He grinned as he moved you under the head of the shower. The warm water ran down your spine, you let out a happy hum against your husband's skin.

"I meant what I said earlier," you reached for the shampoo, standing on the tips of your toes to apply it to Bob's hair.

"If they ask about how you got those marks," you traced the evidence of your afternoon together, red marks and scratches that were scattered along his chest and back.

He chuckled, "I think they'd have a hard time believing it."

You shrugged, "Well, that's more telling of their performance in the bedroom."

—---------------------------

The next day of training went much better. He and Phoenix finally nailed the one manuver that had been tricking them up for the past few days. Training had gone well, Bob didn't have to hold anyone back from starting a fight (or seriously consider letting them go to continue said fight).

He checked his phone before putting it in his locker, his eyes lighting up at your text.

I think I finally perfected Babka. Want to be my test taster?

Bob sent you a thumbs up emoji, quickly putting his phone away so he could get into the shower and home to you.

He took off his shirt, not thinking much of it until-

"Jesus Christ Bob! Did you wrestle with a tiger after training yesterday?"

At first Bob didn't know what Hangman was referring to, but then he remembered.

The marks. Your marks, the ones you left across his back yesterday.

Which now everyone in the locker room had seen.

It wasn't like Bob tried to hide he was married. Hell, he wore his wedding ring on his dog tags. He just didn't feel the need to talk about his personal life.

"I relaxed."

Hangman scoffed, "By what? Reenacting the bear scene from The Revenant?"

Bob narrowed his eyes, "By fucking my wife really well. Not that you would know about that, considering I've never seen a single mark on you after your hookups."

Somewhere in the locker room, Rooster was howling and Fanboy was yelling (what Bob was pretty certain was "Get him Bobby!). It was hard to tell with Coyote and Payback's laughter.

—------------------

"My honorary call sign is what now?" You asked as you sliced in the babka.

"Tiger." The smirk on Bob's face told you everything you needed to know.

"They also want to meet you now," He added before taking a bite out of your latest baking adventure.

"Can I tell Bagman to shove it?" The way you asked so innocently was one of the many things Bob loved about you.

"I'm not gonna stop ya. I'm the quiet one, remember?"

[iheartpeppino]

Here's what I think the Pizza Tower cast thinks of Maurice Spaghetti...

Peppino: The poor guy can't stand Maurice. He's one of the biggest reasons Peppino doesn't come home for Christmas anymore. After putting up with his abuse for years, Peppino is just... tired of Maurice. He's tired of arguing. He just says, "I know," to every horrible thing his brother says about him. And the worst part is, Maurice seems to invite himself into Peppino's life whenever he least expects or wants it. This is because Maurice is such an asshole he literally has no friends and relies on Peppino for company.

Gustavo: He also can't stand Maurice. He HATES him, actually. Gustavo really cares about Peppino, so the fact his own brother treats him like shit infuriates him. He has threatened to kill Maurice before (remember Gustavo's catchphrase?), so Maurice is (rightfully) afraid of Gustavo.

Brick: Our rat buddy can smell a bad egg a mile away. He does NOT like Maurice and will hiss at him whenever he appears. Maurice claims that Brick is "the second-biggest rat [he's] ever seen", so he's... a little unnerved by the sight of him.

Mr. Stick: He hasn't met Maurice yet, but I guarantee you if he DID, he'd try to scam him out of a lot of money and would likely succeed. Cue Maurice crashing with Peppino until he can get his house back. Peppino is miserable and not amused by any of this.

Pepperman: Met Maurice during filming of The Noise's "Swap Mode" movie. Pepperman thinks Maurice is really unpleasant to deal with due to his negative attitude and close-minded outlook. Even a pseudo-intellectual like Pepperman runs circles around Maurice intellectually, which the pepper is happy to do, much to Maurice's frustration.

The Vigilante: Met Maurice during filming of The Noise's "Swap Mode" movie. He does NOT like him. He actually feels bad for Peppino; it must truly suck to have such an immoral piece of cow dung for a family member. Apparently the guy conned his own granny out of thousands of dollars! The Vigilante keeps a very close eye on Maurice the whole time they're around each other. Maurice feels his sins crawling on his back the whole time.

The Noise: He's generally neutral towards Maurice. He thinks all the mean things Maurice says about Peppino are funny. It's when Maurice starts spouting racist rhetoric he's like, "DUDE" and rendered completely speechless because... well, he's never heard Peppino talk like that, so where'd his fucking brother get it from!? Anyway... The Noise only hangs around Maurice if he needs him for something, like annoying Peppino. Maurice has tried befriending The Noise, inviting him to hang out, but The Noise isn't interested in being friends with a racist prick. He does, however, want to remain on Maurice's good side in case he needs him, so he just makes up excuses about being too busy.

Noisette: Noisette is not the kind of person who hates people easily. She tries to see the good in everyone. However, she sees no good in Maurice. She hates him, openly, and without regret. She hates the mean things he says about Peppino. All the bigoted, ignorant blather he spews. How he once assaulted an innocent laundromat worker and called her a bitch just because she told him he couldn't pay to do laundry using nickels. Noisette growls like a rabid dog whenever Maurice is around. Maurice is (rightfully) terrified of Noisette...

Fake Peppino: Our favorite frog man met Maurice during filming The Noise's "Swap Mode" movie... he doesn't like him at all. Maurice is loud, mean, and generally unpleasant. When they were filming Swap Mode's Fake Peppino boss fight, Fake Peppino actually tried to kill Maurice. The Noise had to step in and scare Fake Peppino off. Fake Peppino had to pretend he was simply getting a little too into his role instead of trying to actively hunt down Maurice. Playing dumb. Playing pretend... and sneaking a hiss or growl in Maurice's direction when no one else is looking. Maurice is absolutely terrified.

Pizzahead: Met Maurice during the "Swap Mode" movie. Holy mozzarella sticks, this schmuck is Peppino's brother!? And he... bullies Peppino? WHAT THE FUCK, THAT'S HIS JOB!! Pizzahead acts polite and even friendly towards Maurice at first, but as soon as they're alone together, he very calmly threatens Maurice's life, telling him to leave Peppino alone or else, all with a big, unnerving smile on his face. Maurice practically pisses himself in fear as he's forced to agree... for now...

Pillar John: Met Maurice during filming of "Swap Mode". Decided he absolutely did not like him, judging him for every hateful word that came out of his mouth. Fortunately, Maurice is so terrified of Pillar John's sheer size and strength, he doesn't pull his usual bullshit with the big guy.

Gerome: Met Maurice during filming of "Swap Mode". Gerome doesn't like Maurice at all, but he's not too bothered by his presence. In fact, he completely manages to ignore him. Maurice is insulted, but he's not about to talk shit about Pillar John's brother...

[pinpurin]

NINTENDHOE

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 1610! Miles morales x reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ hc of playing acnh with miles bc I miss playing it

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ gag worthy fluff tbh, I need me a bf like miles

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ header by pastelwalks

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tbh he probably played before u two had gotten together but let’s pretend he didn’t rn

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ miles most definitely questions everything about the game

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷”why are we the only human??” “Why is the place being ran by a racoon?” “Who is this random otter in the ocean??”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷miles shaking trees and getting stung by wasp. After you told him that a villager can give him medicine he went up to one and they called him ugly LMFAO.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ I feel as if miles wouldn’t be picky when it comes to villagers, he loves all of them

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ skips all of blathers dialogue. “He talks to much” 😭

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷but because of blathers he remembers so many facts about dinosaurs, bugs and fish. He even recites them if he see it in public

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ “that’s a paper kite butterfly” “ I don’t now wether to write on it, fly it or spread it on toast”

“…what..”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ He isn’t really into the whole “selling villagers thing” and when he finds out you put your villagers up for sale on discord he judges so hard😭😭

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ “wdym your putting Moe up for sale???” “Miles he’s a ugly version of Tom, I don’t like him” “but FOR SALE??? That’s sounds like human trafficking”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ I feel like the villagers miles would like would be Dobie and Joey, don’t ask why they’re just adorable.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ now back to the actual game, miles would have BEEF with Tom nook (just like the rest of us)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷” baby why do I have to pay a phone bill fee, he OFFERED the phone to me”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷imagine the first time he shoots down a ballon and it goes in the water LMFAO

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ when he has to build the nooks cranny alone, he would be so shocked at the amount of material he needs

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷”30?? 30 iron nuggets?? How am I supposed to get 30 iron nuggets if the rock only gives me two???”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ you start to treat him like he’s your sugar baby, giving him iron, regular wood (bc that shit is hard to get for no reason), flowers,literally anything

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷”hey baby, why’d you want to come to my island?? What are you dropping?? Is that MONEY, WHY ARE YOU DROPPING THOUSANDS OF BELLS??”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ he always says he’s gonna pay u back but you decline ofc

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ miles gets mad when he gets a sea bass for the 90th time so you offer for him to fish on your island only for him to get another see bass

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷” I got ANOTHER SEA BASS? If I hear this joke one more time I’ll start crying. “Baby here you try” *you pull a sunfish* *angry stare in disbelief*

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ he gets a little aggressive with Isabelle when she is trying to help the island get up to 3 stars and he keeps getting told “plant more flowers”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ now he gets 3 stars right, he’s fucking EXCITED like it took so long and he finally got it

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ miles fav k.k songs are kk crusin, kk surfin and kk western.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ I don’t think he has a theme going on, just kinda goes w the flow but loves watch island tours on YouTube

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷miles coming over to your island just to see you beating the hell out of a villager with your net and calling them names

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷”mi vida…. Why are you torturing them?..” “I want him to leave”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ most definitely has you design a Spider-Man costume for his character

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ I truly don’t know what his favorite season would even be, like idk I get spring vibes but it could be anything

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ having miles come to your island to catch the spiders that are harassing you. (I’m being so fr, the spiders scare me so much, if I see one I’m closing the whole game).

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ he WORSHIPS your island, like he loves it always praising you about it just UGH 😩 I LOVE HIM

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷” Amor??? Your island is so good, what?? How long did this even take?, you’re so talented I swear” “uhhhh haha it’s not that good” “ baby it’s AMAZING”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ acnh dates where Celeste is at your island and you both make wishes

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ “you know… my only wish is to be with you forever” “miles, you are so corny….I love you” “I love you to mi alma”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ spending the holidays together in acnh, like him wrapping up a gift for you during Christmas and you both exchanging them 😭😭 adorable

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ telling miles all of your island drama bc he swears yours is more entertaining

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ “omg baby, literally Raymond and Judy got into a fight the other day arguing about who’s better looking and Raymond said it was obviously him, so he was basically calling Judy ugly. THEN they had the audacity to ask me who looked better. “Whatttttt😮”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ he loves the game truly, he plays with you whenever you ask. He just got out the shower but you wanna play? let him hurry and put clothes on and he’s yours. Just got done patrolling after a long day but you wanna play? How could ever deny you with a face like yours?

I literally love this sm, I might have to make another one with 42!miles and another with the twins 🤔🤔🤔 let me know if y’all want that bc I’ll have it done,

[cuubism]

It’s 3pm on a rainy Wednesday, and Hob is sleepily grading student papers, when Death of the Endless appears in his flat, lies quietly down on the couch, and rests her head in his lap.

Hob stares down at her for a long moment, hands aloft in indecision, because this is not... something they do. By now he can say he calls Death a friend, and they get drinks together sometimes and chat, but this...

“Everything alright, love?” he asks, finally resting a hand on her shoulder.

“I don’t mean to disturb your peace,” Death says quietly. The TV Hob’s left on as background noise—some silly cooking show—nearly drowns out her voice entirely.

“Nothing peaceful about trying to find nice ways to tell my students they can’t write for shit,” Hob says, pushing his papers away. He can’t see Death’s face well like this, but he doesn’t like the uneven sound of her voice, not when she’s usually so level. “Disturb away.”

After a long moment in which they both just listen to the TV program host blather on about crumpets, Death says, “I am not affected by deaths.”

“…Alright,” Hob says, though he’s not convinced.

“I am…” Death continues, but trails off on a breath like a whistle of cold wind. “May I... stay here awhile?”

“‘Course.” Hob carefully pets at her head, strokes her hair. Worry is building, but he doesn’t think Death needs him to pull her words out of her the way he sometimes has to with Dream. She will speak when she’s ready. “Do you want to hear some truly fascinating attempts at historical analysis? Or is peace and quiet what you’re looking for?”

“You can speak if you wish,” Death says, still in that quiet tone.

So Hob tells her about some of his students, the ones who truly seem to have some promise in the field, and the others who he’s pretty sure are just mangling their papers together from sentences out of one of those AI things, if the originality is anything to go by. It’s disappointing but does make for humorous reading. Though really, Hob’s not sure whether to laugh or despair when he has to read lines like War has negative effects on people in an actual university academic paper. Wow, you don’t say.

He does manage to get a few chuckles out of his friend, but none with her usual humor and enthusiasm, and eventually he trails off, and they listen quietly to the background noise of the TV.

“Is there anything I can do?” Hob asks quietly.

“Can you control the future, Hob?” Death asks, a rhetorical question without any of her usual lightheartedness.

“Can’t even control the present,” Hob says. He just keeps his hands on her, one on her shoulder, one on the top of her head. Grounding, he hopes. And he thinks on what she’d said.

Hob knows that Destiny is the only Endless that operates in the future, but he has wondered, now that he understands them a bit better, if Death may not have a foot in that direction as well. She must know, some way, how to be where she must when she must.

Death has never seemed overly burdened by the past, even though history is a tower of bones a hundred miles high. Hob had asked, once — do all those terrible things ever bother you? you were there for them all —and all she had said was, “It has already happened,” with neither pleasure nor pain, just acceptance.

The future is another matter entirely.

“Is something going to happen?” he asks.

“I will not burden you with knowledge that is not yours to carry,” Death says.

So, that’s a yes.

“Maybe I could do something about it,” Hob suggests, though he suspects where that query will lead.

“You could not.”

“What about you, then?”

“That is not my place,” she says, though she sounds less certain about it than she usually is when discussing her function.

“You sure?” Hob asks.

“Were I to change fates for some, what excuse would I have for not doing so for all? Unfair things happen hourly, and always will. If I upend the balance, there is no telling how things would tip out of control down the road.”

It must be hard, Hob thinks, to be so powerful and yet so powerless.

“You did spare me,” he points out.

Death huffs, almost a laugh. “In truth, I shouldn’t have done that. Although I suspect Destiny had it written in his book for other purposes entirely.”

Huh. Well, that’s probably something Hob shouldn’t think on too hard for the sake of his own sanity.

“Well, I’m certainly not complaining about it,” Hob says, and Death chuckles.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asks, when they’ve been sitting for another few minutes in silence.

“I… do not have many friends,” Death says. Common family trait, then, Hob thinks. Not that it’s really so surprising. Death is very personable, but most of her interactions with people are, well… fleeting. And it can’t be easy to make normal friends, when you’re as expansive a being as one of the Endless.

“Stay for a while then,” Hob says. He pulls a blanket over her and tucks it around her shoulders. “Until you have to go.”

“Thank you, Hob,” says Death, still sounding incredibly weighed down by her function, but given a slight reprieve, perhaps.

Hob rubs her shoulder and thinks about these endless creatures he’s chosen to love. Do they have anyone else to worry about them? He doesn’t think so. It’s just Hob, and he doesn’t think that’s anywhere close to enough, but he’ll just have to do his best.

“Any time, love,” he tells her, and means it.

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

Your tf2 headcannons make me smile :), how about the mercs going into their favorite game for a day and they have ti survive

Would The TF2 Mercs Survive In Their Favorite Video Game World? (+ Their Favorite Video Games)

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Awe! I'm so glad I can make you smile 😭Honestly makes me so happy in general to be able to make stuff people enjoy! For the sake of this to make seance I'm going to pretend that all these games work on real human time and take 24hrs for a day to pass (If the game takes more than one day to beat) or the game to be finished. (If the days passing is unspecified)

Also! Mutual appreciation comment time! Thank you for being a mutual I love your asks and thank you for all the likes 💖

————————————————————

Okay enough of that to the prompt!

————————————————————

TW: BLOOD, GORE, AND MENTIONS OF DEATH!

SPOILERS TOO FOR, OUTLAST, UNDERTALE,

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Demo- Borderlands 2

Of course Demo would love a game with mayhem, destruction, and humor. He also loves the fact that (for him at least) the game never gets boring, or dull. He always has fun when ever he loads up the game, so waking up one day in the game was both super exciting, and terrifying. I think he would survive, but then die as soon as the day was almost over, like he's not dying the second he wakes up, he's pretty good at the game after all, but he'd get confident, and then two seconds before the day his over he's shot in the head or something 😭

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Engie- Minecraft

I know, I know. It's not a fresh, new, or even controversial take, it's just what everyone assumes, but I wholeheartedly agree Minecraft is his favorite game. He loves the freedom to build, he thinks it super cool he can use things that he would normally not be able to build with. He also loves being able to play with his friends (Pyro and Scout) specifically. He's beat the game at least ten times, and knows the game inside and out. Waking up in the game was suppressing, but to be honest, I think he's had weirder situations happen. He immediately knows what to do, and is on it. After only twenty minutes of being in the game, he's already working on a house, by time the night is actually here he's somehow found diamonds and is working on his nether portal, is so upset to wake up in his bed the next day. He's bitter he couldn't finish the game. Doesn't die, obviously, but did have strong words with a skeleton after receiving an arrow to the back of the head.

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Heavy- Animal Crossing New Horizons.

I'm going to say it, this man doesn't really like violent video games. I know, controversial. My thing is, I don't think some of the mercs want to spend all their time killing, and then come back and kill fictional characters. But I could be wrong, but that doesn't matter because Heavy like Animal Crossing. He loves the villagers, loves the mundane tasks, loves how just, relaxing playing the game is. If he woke up on his AC island he'd be so happy. Hugs all the villagers, fishes, catches bugs, talks to Blathers about literally everything he can. This man is just having a great time, and I for one, am happy for him. Doesn't die (Even if he could, he still wouldn't) But did get stung by wasps at least once trying to catch them.

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Medic- Outlast (For the sake of the game being finished in the way Outlast is played medic is forced into the same confines Miles is put in)

Are we shocked that this man loves one of the most iconic horror games ever made? Loves how many boundaries it destroyed, how gross some of the parts are, and how bloody other parts can be. Giggles at all the gory scenes. ALSO WHEN SEES THE DOCTOR??? When he wakes up in the world, he's very excited until he remembers how pretty much useless Miles is. He still, remains confident in his survival skills, still goes through the physical issues Miles goes through, and finds that to be rather inconvenient, (Regrets always complaining about how upset Miles seems to get, but he understands now that maybe, just maybe, when you aren't able to heal almost immediately, that losing a finger or two isn't super easy to cope with) but regardless, he does survive, he doesn't die because of a lack of skill or overconfidence, but dies do to the plot advancement, you know?

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Scout- Apex Legends

I think in the same vein as Engie, this probably isn't a fresh take, but it still fits. Scout is good at Apex, like really good. I think it's easy to make him a silly little guy, but he's ruthless when he wants or needs to be. This man is an Apex champion more than most people, has more kills than you'd ever think, and is honestly a better teammate in Apex than on the field with the other mercs 😭 He wakes up in Apex world and he's so thrilled, he's ready to put his real-world skills into his favorite game and does pretty well until he's knocked down by an enemy, he hides behind a box and waits for his teammates to come help him, they start moving father away, he moves over to them, they move again, he bleeds out as his two other teammates walk away from him. (Totally never happened to me) then they didn't pick up his banner, so eventually, he just woke up after dying and is so pissed. It did make him a bit kinder when it comes to helping out his teammates, in hopes that he'll never go through that again.

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Sniper- Superhot

Way too good at Superhot, it's almost troubling how many hours he's put into the game. You'd swear you could see the enemies shaking anytime they appear on camera. Sniper sometimes uses this as an opportunity to practice dodging, but also just has fun fighting against an enemy. Loves the slo-mo shots he can get. Loves splitting enemies in half with different weapons. Also love the mind control and weird story setup of it all. If he woke up suddenly pixilated, fighting other pixilated entities, he's either freaking out or shrugging it off. Probably the latter, knowing him. He survives well, with only a few close calls, it's a lot easier when your hitbox isn't an entire VR headset after all. Genuinely has fun being put in the Superhot world for a day.

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Spy- Hitman

Now, I thought I'd be so clever and come up with original ideas, but I was wrong. I think Spy plays Hitman plays for ideas, how weapons would look, how messy a kill would be, etc. Also loves being able to have very minimal risk when he's "killing" It stresses a guy out when you live life trying not to get caught every day, you know? As much as this man likes this game, he is so pissy when he wakes up in this game. He's basically just living a full 24 hours of his regular day job and is exhausted by the end of it. He does a good job, doesn't get caught, and manages to keep his suit clean. Has never been so received to wake up.

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Soldier- Call of Duty Modern Warfare

A man who loves war likes a game about war, who would have guessed? No, but in all honesty, the military aspect is one of his favorite parts of it, he also loves the range of weapons and all the different roles you can play in the game. I'm not going to lie though, if he woke up in the COD world, he'd probably have a breakdown. Like he'd freak thinking everything before this was a fever dream, but he'll eventually figure it out. He would kill at any task he was given, and survive, he'd wake up and immediately feel better because as much as he loves the game, he never wants to go back.

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Pyro- Undertale

Pyro loves Undertale so much that it's insane. Has played his game, at least 30 times. Has never, not even once, played the genocide route. They cannot bring themselves to kill a froggit, let alone Papyrus or anyone else. When Pyro wakes up in the Undertale world they are thrilled, jumping up and down, giggling, screaming, you know all that fun. Literally gives Toriel the biggest hug ever. They have the best time of their life. Manages to do a deathless run, somehow, probably because of the insane amount of times they've played through it, but is heartbroken that they wake up after only being able to get through the neutral route.

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I'm sorry this took so long! I loved this prompt but I hit a slump, and I've been fighting with myself to get it posted, I'm sorry if it's not great, I hope you like it though 💖

I'll try and be more consistent I promise 🫶🏻

[fool-who-dreams]

shrink

summary:

Tony is tired of hearing her daughter talk about her crush, and Peter talk about his. So he sets them up for confrontation and decides to have a little fun with it...

you stepped inside the most spacious classroom of Midtown High, and the familiar scents of chemicals immediately invaded your smell. The chemistry class was soon filled with people taking their seats at their tables and putting on their candid white lab coats and protective goggles. Your usual desk mates were absent on that day due to the intensive sport training they were undergoing; soon they'd have a really important match and the school couldn't risk loosing (again), so they were excused from classes that day.

It was no big deal, but it was an absolute tragedy for you: who will you blather about your crush to? Who will listen as you make up romantic - most definitely unrealistic - scenarios, and encourage your imagination? How can you go a whole day without hearing their encouraging words on how you should just go up to Peter's desk and say-

"Hi, is this seat taken?" The familiar voice shakes you out of your thoughts. Your eyes widen as the sight of THE Peter Parker.

The boy wasn't popular in the slightest, but you had the chance to admire him in his natural habitat, the chemistry and maths classrooms, (or so you thought) and he was the smartest person in MILES. The rare few times you had the chance - or the excuse - to talk to him, he had been the most caring, generous and kindest person you ever had the chance to meet.

"Of course not." You smiled, making him smile, too. You blushed at the thought of always being the one to make him smile like that. Better yet, at the thought of him making you smile like an absolute fool everyday.

"y/n, right?" Peter asked while fixing his bag next to him and sitting down on the stool.

From there on the chitchat never ended. You both did stay silent: he was rather invested in the experiment, and you were rather invested in watching him focus. Chemistry came pretty naturally to you - just like every other scientifical and technology-related subject - which gave you more time to dream of the moment that had finally come.

You guys discovered that you had so much in common: interests, friendships, hobbies...heroes. You both loved Spiderman, for instance, and you both really looked up to Ironman and Captain America. You both liked Star Wars and Delmar's sandwiches, and you both knew MJ.

After class was over, the two of you agreed to sit next to each other the following time as well: your friends had been telling you to talk to him for ages, they won't mind at all if you actually did and stopped distracting him from their assignments in class. Even though, underneath, you knew they enjoyed it just as much as you did.

The weeks went by and you couldn't help but like him more and more, falling deeper and deeper for the boy. He seemed quite involved, too: every time your hands brushed against each other, or you made him laugh, or even just held eye contact for more than one second, it just made your heartbeat run a marathon. And that wasn't like you at all, but you weren't sure you liked it much. That little voice in your head just kept telling you that it might all just be your imagination going a bit too far; basically just gaslighting yourself.

Six months later you guys had become absolute best friends. You walked back home together after school, worked on projects, had your own inside jokes; you had even met his aunt May!

"Hey y/n?" Peter broke the silence while he was laying on a park bench, his curls on your laps.

"Yeah?"

"Do you- would you ever-" he started stuttering as he usually did when he was going to say something important for him. It always made you giggle, you found it cute.

"C'mon Pete, you can tell me anything, you know that."

"I know" he whispered before sitting back straight up. He took a deep breath before finally saying what he wanted to "Do you- like pillowcases?"

You looked at him, puzzled and surprised by the question. "Do I- like pillowcases?" You let out a laugh, trying to hide the disappointment in what you thought he'd have said. "I guess I do. Do you?"

"Yea. I do, I really do."

"That's- cool, I didn't know that about you" You chuckled, as he let out more of a nervous laugh. "I guess we should get going now". You smiled, gathering your things.

After Peter dropped you off where you "lived", you waited til he was out of sight before getting into the most famous building in the State: your actual home.

"I CANNOT BELIEVE HIM!" You shouted as you angrily climbed the stairs and walked into the kitchen, reaching straight for the fridge and opening it. "I seriously cannot believe that boy!"

"What did he do today sweetheart?" you father asked, not getting his eyes off of the newspaper he was reading.

"He almost asked me out!"

"And the problem with that is..."

"THAT HE ALMOST ASKED ME OUT!"

"Oh, obviously" He mocked you as he folded his newspaper. "Honey, have you ever thought of asking him out yourself?"

"Of course not. I mean, what if he says no?"

"You've never had this problem with any other boy before, and you're having this kind of doubts now that I actually like one of your picks?"

"Yes, because I also actually like this one!"

"Pepper, I don't need the blood test anymore, she's definitely a Stark!"

"I thought we had agreed on that when she fixed the- technology thing you couldn't deal with when she was 5." Your mother shouted from the other room.

"Okay, ouch." Tony replied.

"To be fair, you did deserve that." You chuckled. "Anyways, I'm starting to think it was just all in my head. Maybe that's just how he is with everyone, I'm nothing special. I guess I love for the both of us. I mean, how could I be enough for someone like him? He's the sweetest, kindest, most generous and caring person on this planet. And me? Well, I'm just really smart. And I'm amazing for everyone else, of course, but him? He deserves more than I'll ever be able to give." You concluded looking at the ground as you let your head fall into your arms. You were forced to raise your gaze when you heard a sudden loud noise. Something had fallen and broken, like a plate or a mug.

Looking up you saw the only thing you needed but last thing you wanted to see in that moment.

"You better clean that up kid. Oh and, y/n? Peter's here, by the way. Which is a really good thing because now you can both stop using me as your shrink and actually talk to each other." Tony looked at you with the most amused smirk as he was on his way to leave the room.

Your face had reached the cherry red color of the ceramic bowl that was scattered all around on the floor.

"Are you- did you actually mean all that?" An incredulously open-mouthed Peter asked.

"What are you even doing here?!" You inquired, confused and embarrassed.

"That's not important right now. Did you mean that?"

"Haven't I proven it to you?"

"I- I feel awful about making you doubt how much I love you." He said sincerely, while walking towards you.

"You- love me?"

"More than I thought I could." He leaned in slowly, following your every move until your lips fused into the most beautiful feeling you had ever felt. When the kiss was broken he held you in his arms for a few minutes, you both contemplating how the moment felt as magical as you had imagined it. Peter broke the silence with a sudden realization.

"Wait- you are PEPPER POTTS AND TONY STARK'S DAUGHTER?"

"Yeah..." You laughed nervously.

"Why have you never said anything?"

"I don't really go around advertising it. You know the bad guys and stuff can-" As you were explaining, you accidentally hurt a mug. Luckily, before it could touch the ground it was promptly saved: Peter was holding in his right hand the purple thing.

"you are SPIDERMAN?! MY BOYFRIEND IS SPIDERMAN?"

"Mh, boyfriend." He chuckled before hugging you again. "I like the sound of that."

[skrunkly-baloongis]

Four Bastards of the Yan-pocalypse play Animal Crossing: New Horizons:

Jack

John Doe

Alan

Ren/[Redacted]

Note: This is just my opinion and please dont take it seriously lol. Also, I wrote all of this while sleep deprived so if none of it makes sense, sorry lmfao ;w;

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

Jack:

Favorite villager(s):

Would probably be Pietro or Goldie. Pietro due to the clown look and how cute he is, and Goldie because she's so sweet.

Favorite Activities:

I could easily see him as a very helpful person. Helping Guliver and Gulivarr, helping Harv with Reese and Cyrus, and easily befriending villagers left and right. He probably really likes the cooking mechanic of the game, as food is a universal love language. Extra points if you cook right along with him. Will probably cry if you gift him anything.

Favorite NPC's:

I'd say either Harv or Timmy and Tommy. Harv because of how sweet he is, and Timmy and Tommy because of how cute and endearing they are (just like you!)

________________________________________

John Doe:

Favorite Villager(s):

You probably saw this coming from a mile away, but Coco, Kiki, and Jitters. Coco because he likes her look, Kiki because she's black like his hair and she's pretty cool, and Jitters because...well...Just look at the dude lol

Favorite Things to do:

When it comes down to this, I honestly think Doe would be fine with whatever. I think he would like fishing and finding fossils just so he could run up to you and go "HEY LOOK AT THIS IT REMINDS ME OF YOUUUUUU" and it's legit an oarfish lmfao. He also probably wears a custom design sweater you made of his irl sweater in game.

Favorite NPC's:

I think he would like how cracked out Blathers looks. Just a nervous little mess of a man. I think he would like that. Either that or he'd really like Flick, specifically when Flick tries catching a bug and failing. (Then he can "Show this lizard boy how it's done").

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

Alan

Favorite Villagers:

Lmfao roast me all you want but Apollo all the way baby. Apollo, Dobie, Fang and Fauna. Apollo, Dobie and Fang because he thinks they look cool and likes interracting with them, and Fauna because she reminds him of his Doe-Eyes!

Favorite Things to Do:

A legend at material gathering. Need some wood? Bro he's out the door with his little axe ready to swing for you. Fishing? This man has enough fucking fish to fill three museums. You have to beg him to stop. He likes watching you go about your business as you talk to villagers and do whatever. He especially likes it when you bring him small gifts! Whether it be a new axe, fishing rod, or (his most recent favorite) ungodly ammounts of freshly cooked soup, he will cherish it like no tomorrow and be sad if he has to empty his pockets due to lack of storage.

Favorite NPC's:

I could see him really liking Cyrus. Both work well with their hands and are pretty talented at it! I could also see him liking Brewster as well, just for his kinda chill vibes. Plus, getting coffee with you would make his day!

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

Ren/[Redacted]

Favorite Villagers:

For Ren, I would say he would like Judy, Chelsea, and Merry. Honestly any cute villager! Especially ones that remind him of how cute he thinks you are! For [Redacted], Muffy, Kabuki and Lucky! [Redacted] has a stark difference from what Ren enjoys, opting for more darker and creepier villagers.

Favorite Things to Do:

Given his (both Ren/[Redacted]'s) hacker occupation, he really loves modding the game! Dont worry about your switch being bricked, he's got you covered. He'll add in things ranging from old villagers, to even new gameplay mechanics just to see what could happen. In regards to vanilla animal crossing, he really likes seeing what you're up to. He's the type to collect shells and flowers for you and leave them outside the house as gifts. Similar to Jack, he would probably melt through the floor if you left him something.

Favorite NPC's:

Flick would probably be one of his favorites. He's so cool! Just look at him! Another favorite would be Kicks because of how cute he looks, and because he can buy you stuff from him lol.

[chrrywvea]

✨️lokius playing animal crossing✨️

they'd 100% do matching outfits

always visiting each others islands

mobius didn't really get it at first but after throughout tutorials by 💕yours truly💕 (signed by loki) he became even more obsessed than the before mentioned god

loki doesn't like blathers and often argues out loud when he drops any fossil/insect/fish/painting off at the museum, which mobius finds incredibly amusing to watch

yet he always relents when mobius suggests a museum date (yep they definitely play together)

mobius #1 characters are isabelle & brewster and he nearly loses it when loki presents him with a selfmade version of her cardigan & the roost cup for his birthday

yep 2x loki knits (did i mention that before? i just love that hc)

loki loves raymond & lucky. might be a little basic, but he absolutely adores them (i love raymond so much agh but i can't find him for the life of me)

mobius became an expert at catching literally anything without even trying

mans caught the wasps the first time he got them and hasn't been stung since

meanwhile

loki nearly gets a heart attack every time a tarantula appears (same)

and mobius always keeps a stash of medicine in his pocket bc his bf keeps getting stung

loki spends forever on custom designs

like hours

same with the mile ticket islands

he stays until that island is e m p t y

while mobius bought a ton of tickets just to search for specific villagers and then dip

loki spends hours on custom designs and mobius spends ETERNITIES diving in the ocean

he loves searching for fish & shells but he also just really likes the water sounds (me)

[olivescales3]

The Forgotten Legends of Chima Episode 2

Check out episode 1 [here]!

Laying down on the ground, the lightened gloom strikes at us by the moon, tinting our surroundings with various monochromatic shades of purple. 

No matter how much Cragger counts the stars, or how much we spend time blathering about our lives, the purple moon sits still in the spotlight, stagnant; nighttime has never been this slow and peaceful.

Everything seems serene– it's impossible to not feel refreshed, absorbed by the calm, soothing wind.

I notice Cragger get up, ripping off the grass with his feet. He stands still, stiffening his body into a square, although moving his tail side by side, as he crosses his arm and mumbles.

Unable to hear him properly, I reach out to him in anxiety,

"Hey, Cragger… what's the matter?"

He lifts his lip, exposing his gums, "I want to leave", he replies.

Instinctively, I seize his hand onto mine, out of fear that he rushes away from me, yet, even then, I might lose him– my vision is dim, we don't have enough light near us. The worst part is… that I don't even know where we are.

Cragger… please don't go. You'll hurt yourself.

He growls, rasping his voice in an unusual tone, "Why are you grabbing me? Can't I walk around for a second?"

I try to drag Cragger down, but he agitates his hand, making me lose my grip.

"Please, stay! I don't want you to—"

An unfortunate event happens, as my friend runs towards the unrecognizable horizon.

No… not again! Why can't he stop abandoning me like this?...

I don't want to be alone. I don't.

Why does he need to be so reckless?

…I won't let go of him. This world is too dangerous.

I push my paws forward and sprint with the speed my feeble legs can gather, the wind flies on my fur, everything around me blurs uncontrollably—

Thud!

I crash onto the ground. Cragger's shouts echo out of nowhere, hiding light whimpers of nervousness, blending in with my cries.

The moment we shut our lips, leaves crunch from the distance. I turn around, and for a millisecond I encounter a wolf, with pitch black fur, staring at me, with a long, macabre snarl, as if it's smiling. It pounces at me—

I fling my blanket across the room, gasping for air, as tears flood out of my eyes. Paralyzed, I can't cry for help. I'm alone, afraid. Each word I utter turns out as sobs. My rapid breathing suddenly starts to strangle me. Am I spiraling out of control? 

A gentle touch falls upon my shoulder; my dad, who pants as if he just ran a thousand miles, squeezes me comfortably between his arms.

"My son! What happened? Your hands are cold…", Lagravis whispers.

My ribs clamp, heart pounding stiffly.

Without self control, I end up shouting, "Wolf! The wolf jumped at me!"

Blood pressure skyrockets.

Head feels light.

Pain spreads throughout me. It irks me with its adrenaline.

Dad pets my head, and, despite my panic, his soft paw pads warm my chilling skin. I lean onto him, in for a hug. It feels good.

My breath… is returning back to normal.

Phew– I meditate, breathing in the fresh air in my room. 

…What happened? What? Was that even real?

He looks at me, confused. Of course, he asks if it was a nightmare. It probably was, thank goodness.

There's no need to lash out like this.

"Laval.", he holds my hand, "Was there anyone else in your dream?"

Ohh. No, no, no. No. I don't want to make my dad worried. I don't want to hear about the incident, but lying is not an answer.

"I dreamt about Cragger running away from me."

Dad itches his chin. He's going to piece everything together. He'll take my nightmare seriously.

"I see… It's normal to relive our worst fears during our sleep. Don't fret, my son. I'll take care of everything."

He tucks me on my bed and kisses my forehead.

It is now morning. I look at myself in the mirror to distract myself: my red mane is starting to grow into little tufts, which means that in the near future I will no longer be a cub, but a teenager.

I tidy my sapphire blue tunic and put on my golden belt, locking it with my lion-faced buckle. My pale tan fur, after the nightmare, has become frizzy. Petrified amber eyes highlight the sickly dread on my muzzle. My paws are trembling. 

I relax by the windowless stone arch. The view of our city from the temple is amazing and comforts me a bit; I can observe the forts forming a hexagon shape, the agglomeration of housing glued to its corners, and the tall, spherical towers at each edge. The center of the Lion Temple is bustling with animals from all tribes to visit the monthly Chi Market to sell their products. At this angle, everyone inside our kingdom looks like ants. 

I might as well leave my room and take a breather.

We're sitting on the first step of the Lion Temple's entrance. The sun shines on Cragger's scutes, as the light spreads along the grassy plains, which feeds the plants and makes them grow. Spring is a beautiful season, where Chima blooms with all kinds of colors.

Today's a special day, better than the ones before– an eventful morning like this means that there is going to be a Speedor Race! We're not old enough to race yet, and I unfortunately can't ride my Speedor for fun either, but my buddy has another idea.

"Laval, my papa is going to do something huge today!", he leans near my ear and whispers, "He's been practicing his tricks for this race. Want to see?"

"That's nice. I didn't know your dad went on Speedor Races at such an old age!.."

He stares at me, twitching his jaw hinge a little.

"Uh… Cragger, are you alright?"

He giggles, "I'm aight. It's okay. Don't mind me."

I see… His body is intact. No scratches, no wounds. It's like… nothing ever happened… but I doubt that he forgot about it, speaking such bittersweet words.

After a few hundred steps, we reach our destination, where its horizon is cluttered with Speedorz bolting left and right, in and out of our view. The animals here drift around the scattered obstacles with a tilt so tight that they seem to skim over the earth's surface; at first glance, such skill is admirable and desired by many, although we're quickly reminded that these racers are amateurs– their try-hard tricks backfire in style, as they're thrown out of their bikes.

Heavy rumbling trembles our eardrums and attracts us to a huge stone ramp pointed in our direction. It's too late to do anything now, we've been standing on its track without noticing. The sounds strengthen each passing second, while a vehicle sprints from afar whilst racking up momentum– and, in a matter of seconds, before we were given time to react, our gaze redirects towards the smirk of the scaled driver, as they propel their rectangular Speedor off the ramp, gracefully crossing the sky above us whilst gushing away a streak of dust on top of our heads. Mesmerizing.

I'm unable to take my eyes off this mysterious motorist, though the spectacle ended just as fast as it started. Knowing we're surrounded by nonprofessionals, the first thought that has come to mind was an assumption about this performance being a mere hobbyist's fluke, had the pilot not revealed himself as Crominus.

Yikes. Bold of me to dismiss pure skill as luck. Better than being crushed by a fool's bad attempt at tryharding.

His curved posture might fool you, but, despite the short and fragile appearance, Crominus is a healthy and humble king. He waves at us with a welcoming smile.

"Papa! That was crazy! Would you teach me this trick, please..?", Cragger climbs onto his dad's lap and hugs him.

"Hey… you know you got to wait, eh? At my age, I only got my Speedor when I was an adult.", the father cackles, "You have no clue how much time papa took to get this good! Lucky for you, I'll show you my super-duper secret techniques when you grow up."

They both laugh and crack jokes, untroubled about the incident. I'm glad Cragger is unharmed and continues to be a joyful kid– Crominus doesn't mind his son's lack of manners, nor does he expect maturity from him. 

It's all about his dad now… Hmph. Does he even have a clue about the incident? Speedorz this, Speedorz whatever, biggest race of all time… Haha…

A soft breeze caresses away my soft mane tufts, shoving away the water from my tear ducts, and, standing here, the background blurs beneath the water lacrimating off my eyes– meanwhile, they tussle, one running after the other. In silence, I hold my hands together and tap my toes, awaiting their return.

Enough time has passed, I think, because the area is emptying by the minute, the drivers are rushing at the stronghold as their unicycles whip further down the road in a hurry up to the main gate. until only the three of us remain. Then, a bunch of lion guards start to gather the objects lying everywhere, marching throughout the circuit like ants, skipping to and fro.

Groanings call my attention to an unusually short lion, crouching down in front of a boulder. He manages to latch onto the giant rock, pushing down his tendons to extend his claws, but it seems that the disproportionate size of the object counters the feline's strength. Sometimes, big muscles aren't enough– you'd need another pair.

In between the mass of workers, marches my uncle, who's in charge of the guards in my tribe. He observes his employees' work and compliments each and one of them with pats on the back. He manages to notice the struggling lion; with his much needed help, he comes to the rescue and shoves his claws on the bottom of the rock while chanting a rhythm, as to hint a cue for when the worker should lift.

"C'mon boys, let's do this quick. The race's starting pretty soon.", warns Lavertus after he gets up, signaling with hand claps.

My uncle turns around and our gaze meets– be it joy or worry, he wasn't able to resist ignoring me, though it's not like he would choose to do that anyway; the last time we were able to play with each other was a week ago! I stretch my arms and shut my eyelids in hopes of a hug, a head pat, or any kind of attention I can receive, but I'd really like a hug.

Lavertus!

Come here!...

And yet…

I've only felt the same emptiness as before, of the wind embracing my body and arms, caressing my short fur, only to seep away and roam back to its ephemeral trail.

To spy with my little eye, to witness my uncle's grin dissolving by each step, might've been a mistake.  I turn around, unfortunately Crominus' glee begins to dissipate in synchrony, his posture slouches even further.

Lavertus' tail whips sideways. Crominus' golden teeth shine with the slightest amount of brightness. I imagine their heartbeats gushing at an all time high whilst they fixate their energy into a threatening staredown; no one wants to say anything, intimidated by another one's thoughts. Courage must arise for the silence to be broken.

My uncle has always been outgoing. However, his eyes are now hollowed by… chagrin? No– it's not anger, but displeasure; his well-built chocolate body tenses up in reflex, he sticks out his claws out of his paws in disgrace.

The crocodile king leaves his Speedor, grabs his staff that was tucked on the vehicle, then pushes it down on the ground.

With such qualms seething from the two adults, intoxicating the ambience with distrust, I wonder… What happened between them? Why express such childish attitudes in public?

Actually, why would my uncle have personal issues against the king of the crocodiles?

By coincidence, the guards' work was already done, and they disappear without a trace. Lavertus' time here has ended. He, however, persists still, growling in murmurs.

My toes freeze, my lips shut tight, chills run down my spine. I can't move. Adrenaline paralyzes each of my nerves while it drowns my blood, climbing throughout my veins up to the skull. My head feels light.

The clean blue sky showers the horizon with clouds, which patch shadows on us, sewn decaying light into intricate patterns.

Cold scales touch my hand and clutch my torso. Its soft cold soothes my body, meanwhile I observe the staredown. Thank you, Cragger.

"What are you doing here..? Shouldn't you be elsewhere, Crominus?", Lavertus snarls.

Crominus doesn't reply, doesn't utter a single word, neither does he twitch a muscle. Instead, he seems too immersed in his mind, as if this situation didn't concern him much.

Finally, he lowers his head,

"Yes, I suppose…", he sighs, "Please excuse me. I shall now take my leave."

He pats my head prior to departing, his face drowned in sorrow as he walks to his Speedor, just when Cragger waves at me with his trembling arm, hiding fear under an awkward smile– his mouth lifts a bit, though he's interrupted by the rumbling noises of Crominus' unicycle. He waddles behind his dad at a slow pace, before I'm able to move or react.

Suddenly, Lavertus locks my neck on his arm, then later plays with my hair, showers me with lion kisses; he's laughing without a care in the world, seemingly relieved about the clean, empty space, like a burden was lifted off him.

Despite these distractions, I've witnessed, all by myself, my friends climb up the stairs and merge with the mass of visitors, until they reach the fortress' gate. Afterwards, the sculpted lion head raises high, leaving space for the swarm to be eaten by it as they go through the entrance. 

Lavertus rubs his knuckles on my head with force and laughs. I roar in reflex,

"Ugh! Stop it, you goof!"

He lets go of me, his face miserably attempting to hold his grin.

As he throws his hair backwards with his paws, Lavertus' mane flows out of his head and neck, reaching his shoulder blades; it waves right at the tips, resembling the perfect shape of a sand dune molded by the wind. Even with this disheveled look, he's the opposite of dry, as he's constantly overflowing with personality and character. No wonder my tribe respects my uncle's wit and charm, but sometimes he can go a little too far. Oh– this isn't about the unceasing amount of lionesses who swoon over him. I'm referring to his nonchalant nature, a trait that is something rare among lions, and one that he overuses a lot. To see him tense is beyond improbable.

"Buddy, you're grumpier than I thought...", he whimpers, "Exactly like my brother."

"Why wouldn't I be? Did you even pay attention to your actions? My uncle would never do something like this— "

He pushes air out of his nostrils, forcing his muzzle to fold upwards, "Kiddo, ignore what happened, please. This issue doesn't concern cubs– don't butt in adult matters, okay?"

Really? Does he think he can get away with these kinds of excuses..? Adult this, adult whatever, blah blah, they make me feel like I'm not good enough to be a prince. It's just that… I haven't heard such words bleed out of Lavertus' mouth. Not even once throughout my life.

"Anyway, 'bout your arm…", he murmurs in a sudden change of subject, "I understand how you feel. We couldn't find enough clues about the perpetrator, though I believe you were attacked by a rogue animal."

I sigh, "It's alright, uncle. I won't feel bothered as long as nothing else happens."

He kneels before me, caressing my cheek with one of his paws, subsequently giving me a warm grin.

"Okay, buddy! The race is about to start in a moment, so I'll leave you there."

The Coliseum is huge, its beige color contrasts well with the lush grass that corners it. There are a few gates perforated into this amphitheatre, which are all linked to race tracks that cross every biome in Chima. Although the exterior is quite barren, everything changes up when you're able to rush inside the megastructure: dark granite canopies cover the first few inches of the entrances, with one of them built large enough to support the metal gong behind me, used to signal the end of a race; seats for thousands of animals molded onto the canopies; artificial waterfalls garnish the circuit with blue light reflected from the sun; the floor and it's coherent, exquisite patterns are made out of cobblestone, delicately chiseled to help Speedorz slide and overflow with speed. 

At this height, we can monitor the racers, cornered by more than thousands of spectators, whilst being able to watch the entirety of one of the racetracks.

Cragger and I embrace each other in excitement, hopping in circles. After an entire month of waiting for this moment, we're finally here, inside the Coliseum! We hop, dance, shout and sing, frolicking around the gong and Eris. She crosses her arms while grunting.

Dad stops our happy moment with hoarse coughs, as he lays his back on a stone throne, then rests his head atop his hand– meanwhile, the other paw holds an open book, flipping pages by the thumb. I hear the paper swoosh and my dad grunt under his breath.

Shouts arise from the crowd, catching us in surprise, after Crominus gets off his Speedor, waving at the viewers. The other racers enter the Coliseum seconds later, mounted on their stone bikes.

Before the competition starts, a white eagle flies off to the skies, revealing his famous orange goggles and his loyal blowhorn– that's Equila!

"Why, hello everyone who's watching this amazingly exciting Speedorz Race today! Very glad to see that a lot of animals are gathered here, because—", he dashes towards the participants, "a very special guest is on his way!"

Eris pulls my hand close to her, shaking her tail feathers, beak open wide.

Equila points at a shiny blue Speedor that's far away in the distance and screeches:

"Dom De La Woosh!"

Clapping from all corners of the audience reverberates with the strength of waves hitting the shore; it is as if the folks here witnessed some kind of miracle. I mean, he could be considered one. Dom is the only peacock in Chima and the best Speedorz Racer alive. His bright, flashy feathers and style, in addition to his unique personality from the extinct Peacock Tribe, make him beyond iconic– he's is an image.

The peafowl starts running his unicycle all over the  place, blowing kisses to the crowd, before the event even started.

"Bom dia meus amores!", he says, "I am absolutely flabbergasted to see all of you who came to cheer me on!".

Flowers are tossed at him and he catches all of them in a fell swoop, even placing one on his beak for extra pizzazz. They shower Woosh with confettis, love, attention, as they chant his name in a thunderstorm of excitement; Uncle Lavertus told me once that this kind of hype has always spread like wildfire since the dawn of time.

He almost beat the peacock in a big race once; I doubt he really did that, as he's the only testimony about this great achievement.

Dom returns to the starting line, flashing his attention-grabbing blue and green feathers. Meanwhile, all of the participants are in order, latching onto their Speedorz– some of them are grinning, a few are chit chatting, others seem focused.

As Equila counts down to one, his high-pitched voice leads everyone to jump and shout in excitement. Cragger and I are quite anxious, and I imagine that they also share the same feeling as us. The race feels like it's taking forever to start.

Wait— 

Even with all of the excitement and hype, my gut itches me with an unnerving sensation. Something's wrong, I can feel it; everyone becomes silent in point blank, and Lagravis' page flipping gets louder, before he shuts his book closed.

I turn around to look at the animals around me– Eris is gone!

The crowd's movement and noises explode the area, overwhelming me as I attempt to spot my friend.

I'm finally able to catch a glimpse of someone running towards the racers. As I push Cragger's arm, we both have the same reaction: our mouths drop wide open.

Everyone freezes in silence, again; not all animals have the courage to interfere with an organized event, especially one that's this big.

Equila strips off his goggles of orange tinted lenses, clenches his blowhorn near his beak, and screeches:

"Wait– wait! What are you doing, Eris? Get back here!"

Needless to say, we had already caught on that Eris was missing… but what she's doing right now is absurd!

"Damn it, Phoenixes!", he murmurs in vain, as the megaphone that's hung on his back exposes his frustrated mumblings to all of us, "I– I meant… Eris, stop that, right now! Lagravis is witnessing all of this, you know that!"

Amongst all of the animals watching this mess, Eris is on the racetrack getting her wing signed by Dom de La Woosh himself. Equila swoops down and snatches Eris off the ground. I don't know if Dom knows how to tackle fan service, or if it's just his eccentric and carefree personality. Maybe both.

Between the moment Equila begins to fly over the arena, Cragger tugs the raptor's left leg, pleading to hover above the race with him. He hugs the hatchling, still holding onto his megaphone, and returns to his place. Eris and I do the same, by holding me with her claws mid flight. 

She's returned to her place, followed by a light intervention from my dad; he knows that my eagle friend isn't mischievous, and that one warning will suffice. What a privilege!

At this height, we're able to spectate the racers; they sprint over the humid dirt, avoiding the obstacles in their way. 

A puddle of mud, camouflaged on the ground, splatters as one of the riders crosses through it– he loses control of the Speedor and spirals head first onto a tree.

Meanwhile, Dom sways between the tree trunks in a perfect rhythm. With his constant speed, he drifts along a sudden turn to the left. The others are way behind him, playing safe.

Chi awaits inside big stones in the middle of the road. The peacock snatches each and one of them—

Until Crominus flies from the curve onto first place, using his Chi to dart towards a ramp, projecting himself onto light boulders. Part of the obstacle course, Chi crystals cascade from them upon contact. The crocodile picks them up seamlessly.

"What a spectacular turn of events!", Equila shouts, "Who would've imagined that the king of crocodiles could surpass the legend himself, La Woosh?"

The crowd's cheers explode, as Equila describes the unforeseen; Dom has lost his lead against the other racers. They follow suit and pick up the remaining Chi.

Though, the end is still yet to come– he maneuvers left and right to regain speed.

A lion bumps his bike onto another participant and sends them flying at Dom's direction. In a pinch, he twists around before the Speedorz could collide. Such foul play!

All of the competitors waste their crystals, causing them to flock near Crominus at high speeds. He slows down– and they clash against each other. The vehicles crash everywhere. By then, a massive cloud of dust has started to cover the scene.

Equila accidentally drops his goggles in disbelief.

"No way…! The king of the crocodiles managed to eliminate his opponents!", he gawks.

The crowd cheers, clapping their hands at an improvised tempo. Now, only two racers remain.

La Woosh surges from the dust– he giggles while he dashes through the pile of leaves scattered around.

Vines swirl on and on, falling from the lush jungle, threatening a mighty slap if one dares to get on its way. Timing is necessary to get over this.

Dom and Crominus weave a trail on the ground between the vicious vines. A big one hits the crocodile's bike, shoving him straight to the side– the spectators scream in horror. Fortunately, this was not enough to take him off his vehicle.

Beyond them is their last trial: a trap. If one of them were to fall into this lake near the finish line, it's game over.

The peacock doesn't hesitate to propel himself forward at steep stone, and, with his speed, he defies gravity in a marvelous spectacle of skill, flying as the wind rushes through his feathers.

Crominus, however, has a trick up his sleeve; he uses his Chi to dart at the bridge above the waterhole—

but it was too late.

Dom has already pulled the trap's lever, making the bridge fall down and throw the crocodile off his unicycle at the last second.

Bang! Bang!

Guards hit the gong with enthusiasm– flags rise from the towers, before the harmonious toot of the trumpets begin to flow a melody. The race has just ended, and now is the time to start celebrating this amazing victory. 

"Amazing!", Equila squawks, "In an astounding turn of events, Dom de La Woosh has come first place!"

My friends and I land on the ground in the middle of the arena, where the winner stands victorious, blessing everyone with grateful good wishes. He's showered in roses and confetti by fans, an act of unconditional love, phenomenal passion that's able to unite animals from all tribes.

Lagravis walks down the canopy; he orders his workers to bring the Golden Chi, reward for finishing the race in first place. They march in formation: one guard is in front, holding the magnificent prize, Longtooth and Leonidas follow behind him while wielding decorated spears, and the rest remain behind.

My dad grabs the Golden Chi, whose sparkle shines so bright it resembles the sun, preparing himself to begin the ending ceremony.

After breathing in fresh air, he says:

"La Woosh– as always, the skill you displayed today was astounding. It was a tight match, and yet you managed to outsmart your opponent."

The crowd cheers, satisfied with the resolution of this beautiful competition, and while it was fast, it lasted enough to have an impact on all of us.

The gray-maned lion sighs in relief.

"I, Lagravis, king of the Lions and protector of the lion temple, hereby bestow Golden Chi, a powerful and sacred present created by Mount Cavora. Use it well, use it wisely."

He hands the crystal over to Dom, who proceeds to bow and blow kisses to his fans, before accepting his prize.

The peacock cries, "Thank you, obrigado, my loves! I wouldn't be able to continue my passion if it weren't for all of your constant support!"

Bang, bang!

Brave soldiers hit the gong once more, marking the end of this event– its booming noise spreads around the air, and, upon hearing its echoes, the audience starts to leave their seats, going down stairs, as they form a rockslide of throngs that accidentally block out everyone's exit from the Coliseum. Dom, however, noticed this craze and hopped on his Speedor, but in vain. We're surrounded.

Gunshots thunder nearby.

I lose sight of Eris, but manage to hold onto Cragger.

The swarm of fanatics escaping the arena jostles us around amidst steps and pitterpatters, as they clomp and run after the glorious winner, who's running away from this mess with his Speedor.

I can't help but look behind me– there, a small gap opens; a tall, pale olive green crocodile smirks, his arm pointed straight at the sky, as he's holding a gun. His macabre amber eyes show no remorse at all, his smile grows more sinister while our gaze meets.

Cragger snatches my hand. Together, we squeeze in between the crowd, shoving the animals away from us, and notice a breach to the outside slip— now is our chance!

I push my friend forward, then I latch onto his tail– our bodies fly through this mess, and with our vision cleared out, we find ourselves holding onto Dom's vehicle.

The cocky peacock, now terrified, croaks from the top of his lungs; he loses control over his bike, which starts to whirl around at high speeds, almost shaking us off it.

Swoosh!

A strong turn to the right lifts me and sprinkles sand into my eyes. It burns and scratches my eyeballs to bits. Trying to get the stuff out of my eye, I end up letting go of Dom–

Wind blows on my back as Cragger pulls me by the collar.

"Carambolas! Why pounce on my precious Speedor?", Dom shouts.

"Uh– duh! Why shouldn't we?"

I giggle after Cragger's defiant speech. I mean, we had no choice, after all. 

La Woosh rushes straight into a bush, covering our faces with a bunch of flowers that block our view. Wooden sticks and dead leaves crunch as the wheel spins, small birds flap their wings at the sight of a speeding vehicle turning at each lush tree.

Desperate, Cragger shakes the driver and fiddles with his feathers, in an attempt to pressure him into parking somewhere– after we get smacked by long vines and tree branches.

Ah. To be surrounded by greenery instead of tumultuous fools feels so, so nice.

"Uh… Dom?...", words spill out of my mouth into a full stop.

He's static, face deep inside the humus. A humiliating scene for the best Speedor racer ever, for sure. Cragger kneels before the blue fowl, contemplating the fall of the last remaining master of the craft. Then, he attacks the body with tickles.

Dom rolls around and play-wrestles my friend.

Meanwhile, the light dims from inside the forest, followed by rattling fronds. They diffuse penumbras all over the tall grass, even beyond our view, before its colors fade away in the distance.

A mysterious sound howls out of the faraway depths– it grows louder as the moon emerges from the sky, cornering our eardrums in a sound barrier.

It's followed by a stampede of wolves that obstructs our path, they dash and crawl without regard to the trees and shrubs in their way and form a muddy fog of black and gray pelts.

Though, one of them sits still, menacingly staring at us. That wolf snarls, their bare fangs drip with blood, and their elongated body twitches, with their fur void of color while brimming purple shine of the moon, stained with gore– it's the image of a vile creature unaffected by this chaos.

We jump on Dom's Speedor and he drives as fast as he can. This is too dangerous– no, everything after the event became dangerous.

He manages to run around the gaps left between the animals, but they close down quickly and leave us with no other choice but to run over a few of them.

A harsh turn to the right forces us out of the mob, but the wolves sprint behind us. We're being hunted!

"Dom! I don't think we can flee from them much longer", I shout from my trembling throat, "They're after us!"

"And what am I supposed to do?"

We look behind us for a second; they're getting closer in less time than we expected.

Cragger squeals, "Use your Golden Chi!"

"You're crazy! I'm not going to do that—"

They begin to gallop at our pace, and one of them latches onto our vehicle.

Dom plugs in his Chi without hesitation– the Speedor speeds like crazy in zig zags, and we get hit by whatever is obstructing us. It rumbles on the bumpy road, but manages to keep its ground.

By a miracle, we find ourselves further near the grasslands. I can see Mount Cavora from here! Now's our chance!

From the top of my lungs, I growl desperately, hoping my cries can be heard nearby.

Dom brakes his Speedor in a drift, which kicks behind a cloud of dust that flinches the wolves cornering us– but this doesn't stop them from approaching in large numbers.

Fog seeps from their eyes. I can see the shine reflecting on their pupils… Their foam drools off their teeth, and their howls echo from the distance, as these menacing creatures crawl on the ground, penetrating their claws into the dirt.

I can't do anything, neither can my friend. We are surrounded, alone, afraid, defenseless.

That's unfortunate.

As I close my eyes shut and squeeze Cragger between my arms, despair seeps into my thoughts and reality.

Sweat drips from my shivering paw pads, freezing at the touch of my friend's cold scales.

if this is my final moment, then so be it.

"Halt! You fiends, stay away from my son!"

This loud, tenacious roar catches the wolves off guard, ceasing their rabid intimidations on the spot.

A swarm of small lion tanks rumble at high speeds, shooting their Chi lasers on everything in sight, as growls and barks screech from around all corners, muffling down the cracking bones of those dead wolves who flew amongst the clouds and crumbled underneath tracks.

The night sky brightens at every spark of light bolting out of their cannons and sizzling the canines' pelts, but a few of the victims manage to jump on top of lion warriors, as if their bodies haven't been mutilated to a crisp.

Loud rumbles shake us– Dom places himself in our front, hiding us from harm behind his giant and glamorous tail feathers.

We're trembling, confused, afraid.

"Woosh, there is no time to waste! Jump!", Lagravis' voice shrills in agony.

The peacock grabs our arms to lift us both, one at a time; seconds after my body is raised, when his plumage brushes off my face, the view reveals itself, with piles of wolf corpses scattered everywhere, drowned under their rancid blood. The damp moon hazes the horizon.

I turn my head around: Eris and Lagravis are standing on his Royal Fighter, he's stretching his hand to grab me.

After my friend is rescued, Dom hops onto the vehicle and hugs us for dear life. We're petrified, from head to toe– eyes shrunken and mouth shut, as we wait for this hell to finish. I hide my face on Woosh's feathers.

This… this is a nightmare. I don't want to be here, their excruciating whimpers haunt me…

Lagravis, while resting on the Lion Temple's throne, presses his fingers against his eyelids in absolute disdain, as I hug his leg, sobbing and trembling. 

We couldn't get enough sleep, even after dawn. The blood, the pile of corpses… all of it kept me awake. I've never seen anything like that, and I wish I didn't.

It all happened so fast; the gunshot, the hysteria, the bloodbath– so many tragedies, and yet… How come? Why?

"My lord", Longtooth kneels before my dad, visibly worried, "I am not in a position to give my input, but…"

"Go forth. Tell me about your findings."

The bodyguard gets up, then walks up to us, before bowing in gratitude.

"There have been two consecutive incidents in the past few days. Isn't that suspicious?"

Dad sighs, his hope gone thin– he can't argue, because that statement wasn't false. Instead, he nods, though in aversion, as he snarls and sticks his hind claws out.

"Yes, that is true. It has only been two nights since my son was attacked.", he stares at point blank, and, in a quick turn, looks at Longtooth with an earth shattering expression, "Are you implying that they're correlated?"

An ominous silence establishes itself in the Throne Room, the harbinger of chaos, a warning. It drowns us in fear, the one that lives inside our anguishing anxiety. Though, it gives us time to think, to plan ahead.

"I believe so. The gunshot was fired by one animal the day after that, and even if we don't have clues about who did it, it's obvious that both actions were made as a threat."

Ah– I've seen this perpetrator before, maybe?...

I add, muttering, "Yesterday, there was a pale green crocodile in the middle of the crowd… He had a long grin."

Lagravis' golden eyes water, as he leans his body to pick me up and places me on top of his lap.. An emotional smile spreads across his muzzle.

He pats my head, silently sobbing, "My son, I'm truly, truly sorry for what happened. I'll make sure to solve everything, whatever it takes."

This morning, my dad decided to inspect the Wolf Lair. Guards caught me by surprise while I was playing with Cragger, and I had no choice but to leave. My friend, who had insisted on following me, hopped onto their vehicle.

The land is barren, lifeless– so arid, in fact, that I can feel its dust grate my feet. My lungs ache a bit everytime I breathe this dry air, but maybe that's because everyone is tucked inside their base, except for Wakz and Winzar, his trusted escort.

Lagravis raises an eyebrow, as he places his hand behind his back.

"Let me ask you a question, Wakz. Have you noticed anyone missing last night, after the Speedor Race ended?"

The elderly wolf tenses up– his ears and tail stiffen in opposite directions, a sign of alertness; he makes eye contact with his guardian, who replies with the same reaction.

Dad takes a step closer to Wakz, glaring at him with the coldest, piercing stare I've ever seen.

After a brief moment of doubt, Winzar approaches my father, stretching his chest, not afraid of the king's presence. The patches of black hair on his muzzle and muscular build are already intimidating enough, even if he's covered with velvety gray fur.

"Your Majesty, do not treat our elder like that.", he growls.

Wakz pats him on the shoulder, "Hush… now is not the time."

He tilts his head downwards, losing himself at the sight of the dry dirt; a million memories seem to flash before him, as he pants in disbelief, unable to move. Terror consumes him whole, desperate by sorrow.

"Lagravis… forgive me for not knowing sooner. Wilhurt is on the loose."

"Wilhurt? Are you serious? He's been gone for years– this isn't a mass murder, but a hundred wolves gone rogue!"

Lagravis covers his face, pinching his nose bridge. Dumbfounded, he huffs; an incident like this surely couldn't be caused by one individual– a force beyond our imagination needed to be what caused this. Wolves can't just snap out of the blue, right?

"Your son was attacked the day before, Lagravis."

Cragger holds his arms together, waving his tail in fear. He's upset enough to leave me and join Wakz' side.

"But I'm asking about yesterday's bloodbath!", Lagravis slips out of his mature mannerisms, folding his face into a macabre yet horrified snarl.

"How hard is it for you to understand that you are threatening Chima?", he raises his voice, failing to maintain his composure, "How could you let all of this happen?"

Wakz pants, hugging Cragger. His entire body is trembling, closed up in dread, as his pale yellow eyes stiffen after that sentence.

"Your pack, Wakz. Think about the hundreds of wolves that died yesterday! They're wreaking havoc all around our lands, and you're here, refusing to do anything!"

I nip my dad's tunic, pressing my tears onto it.

Is… is there a way to stop them? Are we even able to end this war, finish it all without pointing fingers at each other? There needs to be a solution, somewhere. We can't sit still the entire day and expect problems to disappear by themselves.

Dad's tone returns to normal, "Wakz. I will send my guards to monitor your lair. From this day onwards, we will scout every nook and cranny of this place in search of the missing wolves."

"That'd be of great help, if you didn't just accuse our elder of treason!", Winzar barks, holding himself to no lunge on my dad.

In a matter of seconds, Lagravis grabs my hand, ready to leave, as he glares at him. 

"Soldiers, keep an eye on them. I don't have time to waste."

While the moonshine barely manages to spread on the ground, the training area's horizon is painted by its soft light– the painted battlefields shine bright, echoing blood red paint. 

Besides me is the armory, crammed onto the walls of the Lion Temple, where each and every armor produced and displayed has been delicately forged to perfection. Weaponry such as saws, scythes and spears were left here by soldiers after their scheduled training.

"Hey kiddo, right behind you!", this loud, sharp voice emerges from the distance.

I turn around and find myself face to face with my uncle. His disheveled hair looks heavy, falling onto his shoulders. 

He runs at a mannequin, picks it up and brings it over.

"What about we train while your dad's busy? You can't be defenseless for the rest of your life, you'll make Lagravis worried."

My arm is still hurt, I can't go on like this. It… it has been too much.

An itch crawls all over my fur, as the unnerving sensation transforms into the abominable sickness from that time at the Fangs.

"Sorry… I don't want to.", I stutter, "No– I mean, I can't. My body feels weird."

He leans towards my face, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. Seems like he's looking out for signs of illness.

When he gets closer, my skin begins to frost; the cold sweat dripping from my snout bothers me, it tickles and it stings my nerves, so I lick it.

He pokes my snout, "You can't fool me out on this one, buddy! I know you're just nervous. C'mere now."

I equip a silver light armor Lavertus grabbed from the armory, then Lavertus lends me his sword, a Royal Valious, one of the four legendary swords of the Lion Tribe. 

Its magnificent black blade bounces the sunlight off into the faraway sky, reflecting my face onto its shine. No blacksmith in Chima can recreate this beauty without black leochium– a raw, scarce material extracted from the few mines in the middle of Chima. It is actually so strong, it can only be molded in extreme heat, with fire combusted by Chi. Due to its rarity and sheer power, only a few of the Lion Tribe's royal family possess this weapon.

I wield the weapon, admiring its uniqueness and surprising weight. It pushes my wrist down a bit, but I hope this doesn't matter much.

"I'll teach you how to swing that sword with your weak hand."

He kneels, points his wooden sword upwards, before slashing downwards with one hand, then pushing the wood up to the side.

"Repeat after me, Laval."

In synchrony, we kneel, then slash with our sword from down to up—

The hilt of the weapon is heavy enough to pressure my hand from pulling it upwards, which makes me fall and cut the mannequin in an ungraceful manner.

With a mediocre final result, the unrecognizable mannequin remains frozen, unaware that its insides of cotton scatter away into the ashes of a corpse.

Its only purpose was to embody the fragility of oneself, a weakness that forces our soul to remain captive inside us: life's ephemeral existence. It is by no means alive– but it's supposed to represent an animal, the enemy, as a target, one that's waiting patiently to be killed. If this sword, prized heritage from my family, is capable of obliterating this doll, then what could it do to someone else? Why am I being trained to murder people?

Is this what strength truly is? Destruction? I don't think I can do this – every fiber of my body paralyzes at the mere thought of it. 

Lavertus worryingly looks at me, "Yo, buddy…", he murmurs, "are you okay? You look pale."

I breathe deeply. What should I do?...

"Uncle Lavertus, do you think that there's another way to solve problems without resorting to violence?"

I let go of the Royal Valious, and it bounces a fee times before sinking into the dirt ground.

His muzzle falls open, eyebrows skyrocket; he's clearly never seen me like this. 

He sighs, "I know I'm a commander… but war really rubs me the wrong way, you know?"

He itches his head, shaking his tail sideways.

"But if someone tried to attack us, we'd have no choice but to defend ourselves. That's what my brother ordered me to do, teach you to—"

"...Why? Why do we need to use brute force? Why can't I be the Lion Temple's shield? If this is how it is, I'll leave."

Taglist: @fenth-eiria @aspiringfictionwriter @deadhunter-series @jasper-the-menace @tigeryasou @olive-riggzey @fretgoon

(@rekinus20 and @the-lesbian-demon-queen1 I unfortunately couldn't tag, but I'll try to fix this soon).

[the-sixxth-sinner]

Mask of Sanity

Aviable on AO3

Fandoms: Mötley Crüe

Characters: Nikki Sixx

Word count: 2.5k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Sex, drugs & violence; underage (implied) sex; non-con; exaggerated drug-induced psychosis. Proceed at own risk

Summary: Nikki goes batshit insane. Again. 

A/N: I first started writing this around when I was reading American Psycho, which was like, back in April 2021? It was my first smut ever and it made me cringe with every word I wrote down lol but looking back at it now, I think I didn’t do that bad of a job. For this reason, in fact, I promised myself I would try to finish it, years later. In conclusion, if you can read this you’re very lucky

I wanted to imitate both Ellis and Nikki’s writing style with this, and i used nothing but sheer will, fantasy and a quick skimming of the heroin diaries as my resources (other than American Psycho itself of course), so if its not accurate or you think i could've wrote it in a different way please bear in mind that i will not accept criticism, constructive or otherwise, at this hour. thanks <3

Knock. 

«Comin’» I enunciate from the other side of the room as I sniff up the last line of blow I put down on the bathroom’s counter.

It must be that chick the boys told me they’d send my way once they finished with her. I'm still not sure why I didn't want to join them in the fun... I told them I just wanted to be alone, have some peace and quiet. Yet, I’ve been pacing back and forth my hotel room the whole fucking time like a rabid mongrel in a rusty cage that is too small. I’ve downed maybe five Halcions with half of a JD bottle and a quarter of an eight-ball and it’s only 2 am. My brain feels like it’s running a hundred miles an hour and at the same time the outside world looks like it’s melting in slow motion just before my eyes. I'm starting to hear voices again. To hell with peace and quiet.

Knock knock.

«Ya, ya, I’m coming!» This is annoying. What’s the fucking rush?

I raise my head up taking a deep breath in. I glance at my reflection in the mirror, I try to relax my face muscles in order to not look like a complete lunatic. I exhale and roll my eyes; I give up: I don't think it’s working.

Knock.

Jesus Christ, do you want to get murdered?!

I move across the room with long strides. I feel my whole body jittery, my hands are shaking. I open the door abruptly. 

«Is this… Are you...» The chick looks both surprised and shocked. 

Shiiit, they fucked her up. She can’t stand straight without leaning on the door jamb, her voice is shaking, her makeup and hair is all ruined, her clothes half torn, her skin has been covered in bruises and God knows whose bodily fluids. She doesn’t look the age she wants to pass as.

«Sixx, yes.» I nod, cracking up the best smile that my mental state allows me.

She relaxes and clears her voice. «Tommy told me you were all alone, so… I thought I could pay you a visit» She smiles, raising the bottle of whiskey she had in her hand, trying to be as charming as possible. She gazes me up and down with her big shiny eyes. Rhinestone crystals drowned in alcohol.

I shrug. «I could use some company.» Thanks, T-Bone!

I wasn't planning to have anybody join me in my descent to madness, but something awakened in me as I glanced at this girl’s now ruined innocence. There's something so arousing about her desire to be completely destroyed and be a disappointment to her parents that I can't just back away.

I open the door wider to let her in. I check the hallway to make sure if there’s anybody else. «Are you alone?» I ask. 

«I mean, like, I came here with Vicky but I think she either passed out or choked on Tommy’s cock? I don’t think there’s any point in waiting for her...» she blathers.

«Don’t worry,» I wrap my arm around her shoulders. «You’re gonna do just fine…» 

The door closes behind us.

Cut.

I look at her as she strips in front of me, slowly, sensually, without breaking eye contact. Her movements are clumsy due to her drunkenness, but that’s what adds to her uninhibited charm. 

My vision gets hazy all of a sudden, as I watch her dance in slow motion, probably looking like somewhere between mesmerized and fucking stoned out of my mind. Yet, I feel restless, and I start to feel the instinct to jump onto her like an animal with its prey.

I get up from the bed and pick her up by her bare waist in a swift movement, which made her yelp in surprise. I throw her back on the mattress, rip the rest of the rags off her body and start going down on her, gently pulling her labia apart with two fingers and sucking on her clitoris and licking her juices. The girl bucks up her hips and moans in pleasure. I position myself better on my knees, then I pull her closer to the edge of the bed, grabbing her by the waist and making her spread her legs more. I press my hands down on her thighs, hugging her lap, and I bury my face into her heat. I lap her pussy up and down, groaning like a dog in heat, thrusting my face into it, going from wide licks to tracing small circles around her clit and penetrating her with my tongue, sucking off all her fluids that are pouring out like a delicious fountain of youth. I feel her losing control of her body, thrusting her hips against my face as she moans louder and I go faster, until my jaw hurts and I remain completely breathless.

«Please… please please please keep going!» she begs.

 I raise my gaze to her for a moment. I can hardly make out the silhouette of her biting her own fist. My mind is foggy, I can barely form coherent thoughts. But the whispers… Those are clear. I try to ignore them, concentrating on the task at hand of making her a slave to lust.

I bury my face between her legs once again, penetrating her with my fingers and tongue.

The girl’s moans and whimpers are slowly getting louder and higher in pitch, blending together with the voices in my head. I feel her getting tighter around my fingers, until she squirts all over my face.

«S-Sorry…» She murmured.

I stare at her for a few seconds. I let out a laugh, licking my lips.

I climb over her body. «Ready for round two, baby?» I whisper in her ear.

«Uh-huh…» She nodded.

Suddenly, I am hit with a wave of dizziness. My head is spinning and my fingers are tingling.

As I get up, I am met with a confused gaze.

«What are you…?»

«I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t move.» I winked at her.

I slam the bathroom door behind me, breathing heavily. I am sure I am about to throw up, but that satisfaction of vomiting your guts out never comes. I decide to take a line of zombie dust, so that if I do something awful to the girl, I won’t have the memory to regret it afterwards.

Cut. 

I enter the bedroom, where the girl is still laying in bed. I grab the Jack I left on the bedside table, and take a good swig of it, feeling it burn inside my throat. I hand out the bottle to her, in a “You want some?” gesture. She gladly accepts.

«Have you ever done blow before?» I ask her, as I sit on the bed and she drinks.

The girl shakes her head.

My eyes widen. «Didn’t Tommy share with you?»

«Nope.»

«Well…» I get up, pulling a bag out of my pocket. «You’re in luck, ‘cause I’m feelin’ very generous!» I grinned. I want to ruin you so bad...

She gasped in joy. «You’re the best, Nikki!»

I quickly prepared two lines to sniff, one for each of us.

Cut. 

I’m on top of her, fucking her tight pussy, grunting and panting like a beast. Her hands are all over me, and my back is covered in scratches. My mind is racing at a million thoughts per hour and I can’t grasp a single one of them. All I want in this moment is to fuck her, ruin her, use her, reduce her into a mindless sex toy for my own pleasure. I hear voices that I don’t know what they’re trying to tell me, I see shadows in the corner of my eyes that I don’t know what or who they belong to. Her moans are the only thing that snatch me back to reality, but soon even they become faint and the voices are more insistent.

I pull out.

The girl tosses a disappointed look at me, with languid eyes. «Nikki…» She stretches out her hand, trying to pull me closer. «Why did you stop…?»

With a jump so swift even I got surprised by my own mental alertness at that moment, I grab the girl by the jaw moving closer to her.

«Ask for it. Beg me. Say my name.» I demand grinding my teeth.

She swallows and has fear in her eyes. «Please. Please Nikki, please I beg of you» She lets out in a small voice.

I strengthen the grip, lifting her chin. I let out a beastly breath in her ear: «Not. Enough.»

She stares at me, her eyes wide in terror.

«I SAID NOT ENOUGH!» Nikki punched the girl with brutal force, making her scream in horror. He was breathing heavily, eyeballs out of the sockets in shock. A trickle of blood started running down the girl’s nostril. A drop of translucent fluid dropped on top of it. Nikki brought his hand to his face: it was his saliva. He was drooling like a rabid dog.

Nikki had his grip tight on her neck, and kept hitting her, making the blood flow on her face and her porcelain doll skin break, until her screams stopped. 

Nikki let go of her throat, his breath short from the violent frenzy. He looked down at his trembling hands, the knuckles stained in red, then he looked at the girl. Admiring the bloody mess on her face, Nikki felt his whole body tingling with an undefined sensation: he had a rush of adrenaline, horror and ecstasy all at once, but he wasn’t completely sure if those were the right sensations, the right terms for what he was perceiving. The voices were getting clearer and louder, telling him to do horrible things to her.

Nikki touched himself, to then enter inside her, and began thrusting.

The girl was slowly coming to her senses and as soon as she noticed that Nikki was violating her, she started screaming, kicking and pushing Nikki away with her hands, who promptly blocked her mouth with one hand and pointed his switchblade knife at her throat with the other. «Shh-shh. You wouldn’t want anyone to hear us, trust me…» He whispered, with a smile that hid the devil. 

Her eyes were filled with tears in supplication, her body paralyzed in fear.

Nikki forcefully pushed himself inside her. «You like that, huh?» The whole bed shook. Muffled sounds came out of her mouth. The blade touched her skin at every thrust. «You like being fucked by me until your insides hurt, don’t you?» He rammed once more and there were more suppressed cries.

He stopped for a moment and leaned closer to her: «Answer me.» Nikki breathed, baring his teeth. He pressed the knife against her jugular, cutting her skin. A trickle of blood streamed down her throat and chest.

The girl shook her head. Her whole body was trembling.

«Wrong answer.» He stabbed her in her stomach, making her cry in desperate pain like a wounded fawn.

Nikki traced a bloody line with the blade on her pale skin, stopping at the height of her heart. He could feel her breath accelerating more and more under his knife. He shot a glance at the girl, who had her eyes wide and pleading, with tears running down her cheeks, faint whimpers coming through her covered mouth.

«No one can hear you scream, you stupid slut.»

Nikki raised his armed hand.

The sound of the blade slicing through flesh.

A silent scream.

Blood gushing out of the girl’s breast.

Nikki pulled out the knife from the girl’s chest, and dug inside the wound. With the help of his switchblade, he ripped out her skin like fabric and then her heart, still pulsating, and observed it with fascination; he felt its warmth and weight in his hand and then he licked the blood dripping from the torn arteries. It tasted like death. Then, he dropped it to his knees.

Cut.

I wake up in the bathroom, with a massive headache and generally feeling like shit. I barely remember why I am here in the first place… I try to recall what happened a few hours before, but in vain. I take a glance at the toilet: it’s filled with vomit. Huh. Must’ve been a wild night. Getting up, I notice red stains all over the sink. What the hell…?

Suddenly, my heart is racing, my palms are sweating and I am scared to look at what’s behind the bathroom door, left ajar.

With a deep breath, I gather all the courage I have in my body, and I open the door.

Jesus Christ…

I slowly enter the trashed room, carefully, warily, like if there were landmines all over the pavement. There are red pentagrams and writings all over the walls. A real, human heart is taped at the head of the bed. Then, I see it: the body of a girl, lying lifeless on the mattress.

«What the hell… What the fucking hell!» I scream, recoiling against the wall, horrified at the realization of what I’ve done.

Knock knock knock.

«Sixx, get the fuck up! We have to leave in ten minutes!» Doc’s voice from the other side of the door made me have a fucking heart attack.

«Uh… Yeah, I’m coming, gimme a minute!» I try to sound as relaxed as possible but my heart is pounding in my throat and my voice is quivering. Just then, I realize my hands are still covered in blood. I quickly go to the sink to wash them, but they seem to never come clean. I come back to the bedroom, and I throw the windows open.

I need to get rid of this body.

I wrap the blood-stained bed sheets around the girl, almost throwing up from the anxiety and the smell and the guilt that are all eating me inside out like flesh-eating beetles. I pick the corpse up and bring it to one of the windows.

«I’m so sorry I did this to you.» I whisper, with tears in my eyes and a despaired tremble in my voice.

I throw the body out of the window.

I open the door of my hotel room and I am met with Doc’s stern gaze.

«You look like death. What happened?» He asks, squaring me off.

«Oh, nothing.» My eyes wander somewhere behind his shoulders. «Just a bad trip.»

I don’t think he bought it.

«Whatever, get your ass in the main hall.» Doc steps aside to let me come out of the room. «We have an important interview this morning: behave or I’ll send Fred to kill you.» He looks at me in the eyes, stressing the last words.

«Can’t promise anything.» I mumble.

«Excuse me?»

«I mean… Yessir.»

«Good boy.» He gives me a pat on the back and starts walking.

I follow him, glancing at the room one last time. I take a deep breath, trying to calm down, but I can’t shake off the sensation that someone is watching me behind my back.

[raving-raven-writing]

All Human, Western AU--Avatar Fanfiction

I wanted to post a couple snippets of a all human, western AU that I am writing for Avatar. I have never written a western before, so I hope that this is done halfway decent. But westerns in itself seem like an underrated genre. TW: There is some racism in this, just so you know. But it is in character for Quaritch I find. _____________________________________________________________ The only white man that Miles knew of that had connections to the natives and had a bone to pick with Quaritch and the people of Bridgehead was none other than Jake Sully. In Bridgehead, he was a notorious traitor, a man that fell in love with a native woman, and a wanted man with a high reward hanging over his head, dead or alive. So it was no surprise when Sheriff Ardmore had insisted that he and his posse go out, find him, and end him. If the need arose, of course. “What’re we going to do with him, boss,” Lyle asked. “We going to let him go?” Quaritch grunted, silencing the man from continuing his blathering. He stared at the flames of the fire, trying to get his thoughts in order. The kid had really caught him off guard. Of all the people he’d be hunting down and he’d never thought he’d cross paths with the offspring of his former flame. Seemed that there was more than just one person he knew that sided with the natives. Topaz Socorro. It had been years since he’d thought about the woman, even longer since he’d seen her. She’d been disowned by her family when she revealed to them she was pregnant out of wedlock, with his child and there was some nasty gossip spread about because of a mixed race child.

[coal15]

I know I'm being super extra about promoting this Good Omens fic, but I'M JUST SO FUCKING PROUD OF IT! I mean, I don't dislike any of my published fic otherwise I wouldn't have published it--but it's like I have a more sentimental attachment to this one. It reminds me of back in the day when I was writing Protected (queliot/the magicians fix-it fic). I have so many feelings about that one. Anyhow, here's yet another sample from All Roads Lead Back because apparently I've turned into that obnoxious mama who needs to show everyone A MILLION PICTURES of their new baby. I apologize. But also, no I don't.

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Crowley had spent the entire drive back to London swearing to himself (and the Bentley) that he would just find a decent flat, settle in, and get on with the unavoidable task of getting over Aziraphale. But now here he is. Stood on a street corner glaring at the signage above the bookshop door, resenting every letter as if they also betrayed him. Vicious vowels and conniving consonants.

“Come onnnnnn you git,” he mutters to himself. “Just get back in the car and drive away.”

After a few moments’ waffling he does take his own advice, but no matter which street he turns down they all land him back at the bookshop. Like that whole magic-y business with the Buddy Holly records. 

Is this seriously happening?

Over and over again he tries. On the final effort he drives a full hundred miles out of London before making any full turns. Finally, he attempts a sharp left.

“And HERE WE ARE AGAIN!” He screams, furious as the Bentley emerges onto the street outside the bookshop. “WHY WON’T YOU LET ME LEAVE?!?” He parallel parks and sits motionless, grumbling various complaints and obscenities under his breath. A well and truly pissed off Demon. 

Is it the Bentley not letting me leave or is it the shop pulling me back? He wonders. And either way, WHY? It takes a full forty three minutes for him to calm down and accept the situation, but as soon as he does something strange happens. A feeling of optimism creeps in on tiptoe. He tries to swat it away, but it’s a stubborn bugger. Gets all the way under his skin and clings tight.  

“Six thousand years. Hell of a long time.” he muses. “And he and I always . . . we’ve always . . .”

While Crowley sits blathering away to an entirely disinterested vehicle, Muriel is sat in the shop just finishing a book about a boy who never wants to grow up. He only wants to remain happy and innocent forever. They find it a charming tale. Now, no one would claim Muriel to be among sharpest of tools in Heaven’s shed, but they are the nicest. A darling little thing with good intention, but very little grasp on the ins and outs of, well . . . anything. 

“Were you meant to return?” They yelp, startled when Crowley comes bursting through the door easy as you please. “I thought I was meant to mind the shop alone, was I supposed to have a room prepared in case you came back?” 

“No and no.” Crowley grunts, shuffling and struggling to see around the large potted plant he’s carrying. He hefts it up on the nearest available counter space, then spins on his heel to face Muriel. “Been driving all over this stupid little island for weeks, intended to use the time to get my head right, but d’y’know what I did instead? Went round visiting all the spots where Aziraphalel and I spent time together and making myself incredibly sad. But then-” he exits the shop to fetch another plant from the car and upon return continues the narration exactly where he left off. “-I realised that in six thousand years no matter how bad our falling out-and we’ve had our share-neither of us has ever abandoned the other for terribly long, even when we absolutely intended to. Which means,” he plunks himself down in a chair and swings his feet up on the nearby desk with a confident grin, “this whole quasi-divorce situation isn’t nearly as bad as it seems, is it? A waiting game, that’s all it is. Plain and simple. Aziraphale may be an idealist but he’s not stupid. At some point he will have to admit Heaven was never intended to function the way he wants to believe it was, all holy and righteous.”

“It-it wasn’t?”

“Nope.” Crowley shakes his head. “Anyhow, next step is he tries to deny it, then fails, then gets upset, then comes to his senses and comes back to me-to earth.” He quickly tacks on in a vain effort to disguise how badly he longs for the Angel’s return. “And he’ll come dashing right back here to this bookshop straight away.”

“Will he?” Muriel finds Crowley's certainty fascinating. 

“Of course. And I fully intend to be here to make him do the ‘I Was Wrong’ dance the instant he does. Actually, I think I might make him do it over and over again for several days.” He gazes into the middle distance, visualising the absurd scene. “Yes. Decision made. He gives me several days of the dance on a loop or else I’ll ignore him completely.”

“I suppose that is one way to go about getting an apology. But, um, is there a particular reason you think Aziraphale will return to this bookshop? ” They cast their eyes around the room. “With all the lovely places on earth, what makes you so sure he wants to be here?

A cheeky grin slides onto the Demon’s lips. “I have . . . faith.” 

Muriel’s eyebrows furrow. “Faith?”  

“Yes, faith.” Crowley hops out of the chair and goes in search of a nice bottle of wine with which to toast his evolving outlook on things. “Blind faith for the first time ever, because in the long run he and I are incapable of letting eachother down. Always have been. Ha! Yes, here we are!” He exclaims upon finding a bottle of Old Vine Mourvedre stashed on a shelf beneath a dusty countertop. “You ever had wine, Muriel? Care to join me for a glass?” 

Muriel squirms and shifts on their feet, the very image of timidity. “Oh, well I, I suppose so,” they giggle, stepping forward to accept a glass. “I like trying new things.” 

“Good on you!” Crowley cheers. “Anyhow, even if it takes a century or five, or twelve, my ridiculous Angel-and he’s being especially ridiculous right now-will come back. And as for how I know it’s here he’ll return to? Simple. Emotional attachment. He likes ease, cosiness, and familiar things. Loves every book in this place, loves me whether he wants to admit it or not, and not only does this place have all the books, it’s the last place he and I were together.” 

“Ah.” Muriel nods. “I see.” 

Crowley grins and draws a deep, soothing breath. “All I have to do is be patient, stay put, and wait for the inevitable.” He takes a generous swig of wine straight from the bottle before pouring himself a proper glass. “I might need to keep a gentle buzz going in the meantime so all the waiting around doesn’t annoy me too much.” He downs the glass and pours another. “But it is a price I am willing to pay.” This second glass he holds aloft to clink against Muriel’s. “You, you clink it Muriel, it’s called toast. Clink the glass. Clink-here, like this.” He gently taps his glass against the befuddled Angel’s.

“Oh yes, I see,” they smile, then smash their glass against Crowley’s, shattering both to bits.

“We’ll work on it.” Crowley assures, carefully brushing wine and shards of glass off his hands. This is going to be like training a puppy, isn’t it? Never particularly wanted a puppy, but here we are.