#the cat stinks the whole place up

[daedrabela]

SO ALL NIGHT FOR THE PAST FEW DAYS I KEEP FLICKING LITTLE ANTS OFF OF ME WHILE I'M GAMING AND I KEEP THINKING IT'S JUST THE SAME ONES OVER AND OVER

WELL I JUST FUCKING LOOKED OVER AT MY TOMIE LAMP AND THESE FUCKERS HAVE THE THING COLONIZED THEY'VE GOT EGGS AND SHIT AND THEY'RE ALL BUNCHED TOGETHER

SO I FREAK OUT BECAUSE THERE'S TOO MANY BUGS IN ONE SMALL PLACE FOR MY LIKING AND WE GET THEM VACUUMED UP

I'M SNIPPY WITH HIM BECAUSE HE'S SLACKING ON GETTING THE VACUUM TO ME QUICKLY BECAUSE AS SOON AS I TURNED THE LAMP OFF THEY STARTED TO SCATTER

AND I'M ALREADY SPIRALING BECAUSE THE SPARE ROOM IS FULL OF SHIT AND I'M SICK OF LIVING LIKE THIS AND THEN!!!!

THEN!!!!!! THIS GUY ASKS ME "you know what bugs me?" BITCH IT'S TAKING EVERYTHING I HAVE NOT TO THROW HANDS WITH ANYTHING IN SIGHT RIGHT NOW YOU CAN'T JUST SAY SHIT

[culmaer]

¶

[fuctacles]

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| 🐈 | 🐾 | 🐈 |

Eddie was lowkey disgusted by how his uncle would talk about one of his neighbors. No, he doesn't think it's bad for old people to fall in love or have crushes. But it's weird to know these things about his own uncle. 

And it's also sad to watch, because it's been months of Stephanie this, Stephanie that, and nothing came of it, so he felt safe to assume the infatuation was one-sided. So when he tells his uncle he can't go feed her cats that week, he figures it's for the best. And not only because of Wayne's twisted ankle. To his surprise though, he doesn't seem fazed; he just waves his hand and says:

"Yeah, yeah, I know. No climbing the stairs with this thing." He pokes the cast with his crutch. "I've already volunteered you anyway."

Eddie raises his eyebrows because he surely misheard that.

"You did what now?"

"Told Stephanie I'll send you to feed her cats," Wayne says, confirming his fears.

"Why?! She has so many other neighbors!" Eddie points out, gesturing vigorously around the room, implying but meaning the flats surrounding them. 

Wayne clicks his tongue at him.

"Would you let in just any of your neighbors into your home? She already trusts me, and I'm vouching for you."

Eddie gapes at him, hating that he's making a valid point. Damned be his old man and his reasonable thinking. He crosses his arms because while it makes sense, it doesn't mean Eddie can't be angry about it. 

"When?"

"She's visiting her friend this weekend so she asked for Saturday evening and Sunday morning. And stay with them for a while if possible, so they don't go crazy. Ah, and the plant in the kitchen needs watering."

"Great," Eddie grits through his teeth. He's so delighted at the prospect of spending time with some old lady's cats. The whole place probably stinks of cat piss and he'll definitely kill the plant as soon as he touches it. (It was his only superpower, which is not what he aimed for when his five-year-old had been praying, thanks for nothing, Jesus.) He just hopes he won't have to meet her. Hearing some old hag complain about his clothes, hair, and general adolescence was the last thing he wanted on his weekend off. But, alas...

"She asked you to come over tomorrow so she can show you where everything is."

Eddie groans. 

------

It's a Friday afternoon, he's at his uncle's taking a break from college and work. He should be sharing a beer with the old man, complaining about the coursework, the professors, and other students, not picking him up from the hospital, and running errands while his foot is in a cast. And certainly not meeting up with old stinky spinsters. 

To add insult to injury, Miss Stephanie, (which, by the way, is such a typical old hag name) lives two floors higher and the elevator is perpetually broken. Not too high, but high enough for Eddie's anemic lungs to start collapsing. 

He stops around the corner to steady his breath, because regardless of his overall attitude, he didn't want to worsen the first impression. He already refused to 'dress like a decent man' and didn't want to wheeze into the lady's face on top of it. 

Once his lungs are functioning properly again, he walks into the hallway, looking for number 54 as Wayne instructed. He knocks on the door, hoping he didn't mess it up and is at the right place. What if it was 45?

It must have been because he was told Stephanie Harrington lives alone. 

"Uh, sorry, I must have—"

"Are you Eddie?" The woman who opened the door takes him in. At her feet, a tabby cat peers curiously at the new human.

"Uh, yeah? I'm looking for Miss Stephanie?" he offers awkwardly. Maybe that's the friend? Or a sister?

But the woman extends her hand and smiles brightly.

"That would be me, but please call me Steph. I wish I could drill that into Wayne's thick skull." She rolls her eyes fondly.

Her big, gorgeous eyes, framed by thick lashes. She's not an old hag, she could be in her forties at best. She's tall and curvy and her hair looks straight out of a shampoo commercial. She's gorgeous. Eddie shakes her hand in a daze.

"Hi," he croaks as he's ushered inside. 

"Come in, come in! I've heard so much about you, it's great to finally see you in person. I must say," she turns around and gives him a quick once-over. "Wayne's stories didn't do you justice."

Did she just check him out?

Eddie clears his throat, suddenly dry like his elbows during winter.

"Uh, same to you."

"Yeah?" She puts her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow. "What does he say about me?"

"Good things only," Eddie assures her. 

"So you're saying I'm a bitch." She squints at him.

"No!" His eyes widen. "What?!" 

"Well, if he's saying only good things about me, and you say they don't describe me right..." 

Eddie gets the point she's making and quickly shakes his head.

"No, he just made you sound like a crazy old cat lady, and you're..." He waves his hand uselessly. "Not that."

She sighs softly, shoulders sagging a little. It would be easy to miss but Eddie's senses are heightened after his fuck up.

"I kinda am, though," she says with a shrug. 

Eddie feels the need to reassure her somehow.

"Well, you're not eighty and your place doesn't smell like cat litter, I think you're fine."

She barks a laugh, it's low and surprised and Eddie's cheeks are red because he's just digging further into the hole he's in, isn't he?

"Good to know the bar is so low."

Eddie groans, tired of doing damage control that's not controlling anything.

"I'm gonna shut up now."

"Please don't." Steph smiles wide and teasingly. "You're a funny one. Just like your uncle told me."

Eddie scoffs. He's going to have a word or two with the old man once he's back.

"Great, this is exactly the impression I was hoping to make."

At his words, the woman eyes him up and down again, and he can feel his cheeks heating up.

"Yeah? Not as the local punk satanist?" she teases, making Eddie bristle.

"Metalhead," he corrects instinctively and immediately winces.

"Ah, my bad. I'm not good at the subcultures thing." She smiles apologetically but it doesn't read well with how clearly amused she is. "Anyway, here's the plant I want you to water tomorrow evening. Just like, half a glass."

Right. Plants. Cats. He came here on a mission.

"Come on, I'll show you my cats."

There's only three of them and they come rushing from all corners of the flat at the rustle of a catnip bag. Eddie never saw high cats so he's glad to have this opportunity now. Stephanie points to the tabby he saw earlier.

"This is Dart, she's not actually mine, but my friend couldn't keep her at the dorms. This is Garfield," she points to the orange cat, making Eddie huff a laugh. She grins. "Yeah, don't tell anyone, but he's my favorite," she whispers, to which Eddie mimics zipping his mouth shut. 

Lastly, she points to the black cat rolling on the carpet. 

"And this is Arwen."

Eddie frowns.

"Like, The Lord of the Rings Arwen?"

"Yeah," Steph sighs. "Dustin named her. He's the friend I've mentioned. Dart is short for D'Artagnan and I've fought teeth and nail for Garfield not to be called Pippin."

"Pippin is a great name, though," Eddie points out.

"Maybe," she huffs, crossing her arms. "But I wanted one for myself, okay? Not everything has to be about Dustin."

"Is Dustin like, your brother or something?" 

"Kinda?" She frowns. "We're not actually related but I babysat him, and then we became friends. He just stuck around, somehow." The words sound angry but her face betrays the fondness she has for her friends. 

"That's nice," he offers. "I'm an only child, never met any cousins, and only ever had friends my age."

"Well, good for you. Maybe if I had friends my age I wouldn't be living alone with a bunch of cats."

Eddie frowns. 

"Hey, now..."

She cuts him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. 

"I'll show you where the food is." 

Eddie's in a daze when he comes back downstairs, only realizing his visit ended when he's standing in his uncle's living room. He's been gone for only half an hour but it feels longer. 

"How did it go?" his uncle asks, pulling him out of his reverie. 

Edie turns to him and blinks, fighting the cotton around his brain.

"Fine?" he offers. "She's not as old as I expected," he admits bluntly. His uncle snorts.

"What, just because she lives alone with her cats you assumed she's on her deathbed?"

Eddie winces. It's exactly what he did.

"Well, the people in her life weren't kind to her, so now she relies on her pets. Nothing wrong with that." Wayne shrugs. 

"What do you mean?" Eddie frowns, curious. Concerned. He goes to the kitchen, not wanting to seem too eager to get an answer, and grabs a beer for himself and his uncle. He opens the junk drawer to find an opener and hears his uncle answer from the adjacent living room space. 

"She doesn't say much about it and I never asked, but she's always alone on the holidays. Her friends visit a few days before or after."

Eddie walks back in and hands his uncle the opened bottle. 

"Thanks, son."

He nods and settles heavily in an armchair. Focusing his gaze on the label peeling off of his beer, he hums thoughtfully.

"No family?"

"Seems so." Wayne nods solemnly. "I think it was a conflict of lifestyle choices, but I'll be honest, I'm basing it off of rumors and my own assumptions." He scratches his cheek, frowning at the wall. "It's not my place to pry, though I offered to hear her out if she ever felt like needing an ear." He sighs. "I'm just trying to be a good neighbor. Invited her for dinner over Thanksgiving, when you couldn't come. I was surprised she's into basketball," he muses. 

Eddie was seeking answers and now was even more confused.

"You invited Miss Stephanie. For a dinner?" He raised his eyebrows. 

"Yes. She was alone, I was alone, figured I could at least ask. I'm still surprised she agreed. She declined all my other offers."

"Wow." A teasing smile creeps on his lips against his will. "You've been inviting a lot of women since I moved out?"

"Listen," Wayne takes on his stern voice and it takes all of Eddie's willpower not to cackle. He can see his uncle's mustache twitch. "Stephanie is a lovely lady, but she's way too young for an old man like me. And this old man is too old for romance anyway. Besides—" he cuts himself off like he realized he was saying too much. Which, of course, piques Eddie's curiosity. 

"Besides?"

Wayne shrugs.

"I don't think I'd ever be ready for someone like her."

Eddie makes a confused face. 

"The fuck does that mean?" he asks, irritated. 

"Rumors and speculations, son."

[moondirti]

sorry to the soft simon lovers but i am fixating on the idea of him being too abrasive for greater society. no, hear me out. he can't be normal after what he’s been through. after what he's done.

cw: dead dove. sadism. inferred sexism and stalking. punitive harassment. idk guys he's gross. 18+ MDNI

he's just a little too odd, grim, ugly, cruel, rude. he stares too long and makes jokes that strike the wrong chord in most. he's into things that are not as sexual as they are humiliating to his partners, and can not be satisfied by any relationship his therapist would deem as healthy. even physically, he's torn in all the wrong places. his scars aren’t rugged but almost painful to look at. his hands are huge and calloused and 60 grit sandpaper against soft skin. his nose is crooked. his hair is shorn short. he has a mean smile, watery eyes.

the one thing keeping him from being completely ostracised is the flag on his arm, the one he fights for. but it's like putting a tarp over some horrible, disfigured mess – you can still see the general shape of it underneath. most shrug it off as fine, go figure. you teach a soldier to kill and they cope by being killers. it's funny because simon's issues began way before he enlisted – he spoors it back to conception, when his father gave him a part of himself that can never be scoured clean. the military is just where he resides to conceal the stink of miasma he'll never rid of. piss over piss. putting a reason to the barbarity.

for a while, it's enough. he sticks to the corners. for all his sadism, he's not keen on subjecting the general public to his complications. he's smart enough to separate good from what makes him feel good. he only interacts with others like him – price, mostly, who's better at playing pretend but has issues that bury their roots just as deep. or maybe he's able to see simon for what he really is, and the novelty of not having to bite his tongue is enough to form a gossamer bridge of friendship. he sleeps with masochists who don't know what's good for them, all of them men (though it never pays when they're into what he's inflicting). in between missions, he'll disappear to his shitty apartment that he pays for in cash and drink himself to oblivion as he scrolls through a deprecating XXX site.

if he gets inebriated enough, he'll open up tinder and swipe through the birds advertising themselves, as if he were the holy arbitrator of what's attractive. safe because he made it so that no one would match with him; his profile is blank. no bio, no age. Riley as his first name and a picture of a shutterstock german shepherd because having one photo was a requirement.

the lifestyle probably exacerbates his problems.

maybe that's why he reaches a point of no return when he gets a text late one night. he doesn't give his number to anyone, so the only app it could be from–

your dog's cute. what's his name?

it's to his sloshed astonishment that someone swiped right on him. not even him, but a barebones, dodgy profile he curated to keep everyone at arms length when he chooses to indulge in his destructive habits. you're cute too, suspiciously darling and a whole open book – five pictures, a colourful description and your city of residence. you cannot be short of options, certainly not enough to drive you to a point of desperation, so there's no mistaking what this is.

you're setting up a little pet project. something to bat at like a cat does a ball of yarn, with no intention to commit or ever see him in real life. perhaps you chose him because there’s nowhere to go but up. or because his disinterest seems glaringly obvious, and a simple risk assessment told you that you wouldn't suffer an obsessive stalker if you ever chose to ghost him.

unfortunately for you, that couldn't be further from the truth. that simple question is enough to push him over the edge.

he's tired of holding back.

[sordidmusings]

Tender Love and Care - Hair Care (Buggy x Reader)

Art by Capitanpoops (link keeps expiring QnQ)

A/N: Ah yes, another 'taking care of Buggy's head' fic to take up space on the internet. Just gotta indulge in giving this man some tlc. Did I write four thousand words of simping for the cringefail pirate clown's hair? Yes. And I'd do it again >:p

Word Count: ~4 k

Warnings: feminine leaning afab!reader (no pronouns or gendered titles), Lots of Feelings, yearning, possibly angst?, probably hurt/comfort?, waxing very poetic, Buggy being a prickly bitch who doesn't know how to receive affection, Buggy also being a delusional bitch who immediately latches on to that affection

amab!Version

Next ->

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“Touch the makeup and I’ll bite your fingers off!”

“I’m quaking.”

“...I’ll spit in your face.” His eyes narrowed while you blanched. “I’ve got damn good aim too so you better watch those big ol’ eyes.” Almost a compliment? Progress.

“To save us both from catastrophe, I’ll let you keep your grease-face,” you promised. After a few more seconds of giving you the stink eye (really, you should be taking notes because his form is exemplary), Buggy finally settled back into your hold. His stubble scratched lightly at your palms and you allowed your thumbs a scant few passes from his cheek bones to the back of his jaw. That was easy enough to play off as mindless movements while you examined him for the coming wash. Hopefully.  You were at least putting in the effort to keep the affection in your chest from blooming into a wide smile on your face, lest he begin spitting like a wet cat again.

After placing him down on your clothes chest, you began gathering together the things you’d need to clean him up. You had already prepared a large basin of steaming water before you had grabbed Buggy from Zoro for your night shift with him. If he had truly protested against you then you’d just have extra water to pamper yourself with for your nightly routine. What a loss. While you flitted around grabbing a cup, a pile of towels, and care products, Buggy took to commenting about whatever his eyes fell on around your room. Your half-assed replies did nothing to discourage his gentle roast of your safe space. He only shut up when you picked him back up and brought him over to the basin.

You were taken by surprise when you took off his bandana.  You had guessed that his hair was thick from the pieces that framed his face, but you hadn’t expected long locks to be wrapped up in there. They slipped and fell down like silk despite being in clear need of a wash, and you started to become a bit excited to see how they would come to shine under your care.

“What’s wrong with you? Never seen hair before?” There was a bit more bite to him all of a sudden and it hit you that he may be self-conscious from your staring.

“Never seen yours before, duh,” you teased. “You should wear your hair out as a power move against all the scrangly ass men in these waters.”

Buggy took a blank-faced moment to process your words. Probably weighing your sincerity against the backlog of insults he’s heard in his life. Unfortunately, one joking compliment never stood a chance.

“Whatever, just do your job.” His bitter tone made you keep your mouth shut and drop the topic. For now.

Seeing how he had a lot more hair than anticipated, you got up again to grab yet another towel so that you could use it as a cushion. Finally settled, you grabbed Buggy in one hand, the cup in the other, and got to work. You had laid a small board across the basin so you could rest Buggy on it instead of having to hold him up the whole time. You may have gotten strong in this life, but you were not masochistic enough to try holding him up throughout this process. You made sure to be extra gentle when you put him to rest on the back of his head, mindful that the hard plank wasn’t the most comfortable.

Wetting his hairline was taking longer than you thought. The soft noises from the pouring water hitting his scalp and trickling through his hair into the basin below felt loud in the stillness of the room. Everything had a languid air like you could breathe freely without thought or time to measure the passing of each exhale. Wanting to check in, you looked down from your task and into Buggy’s face. Despite all his past showboating, Buggy was having difficulty keeping his gaze anywhere near your face.  You decided to take pity on him in his discomfort but not too much. “So how’d you get your damn good aim?”

Silence.

You’re beginning to think that him looking at you like you’re stupid is his comfort zone.

“You know, that ‘damn good aim’ that makes my ‘big ol’ eyes’ easy targets?” you supplied.  At first, you thought he would roll his eyes and make more digs at you, but he finally caught you off guard.

“It’s a trade secret,” he said with a growing smile and a glint in his eyes. His face grew even more pleased when you smiled mischievously back at him.

“Clown trade?”

He hummed out an affirmative. You saturated the last of his hair at the front and sides and now needed to dunk the rest in the basin. The sheer amount of long blue locks that this pretty, pretty man had may cause it to overflow, but you supposed that’s just a workplace hazard when becoming a glamor clown’s hairdresser. You paused in lowering him to look around quite dramatically (squinty eyes, pursed lips, and all) before leaning slightly closer to stage whisper, “You can tell me; I ain’t no snitch.”

You barely caught the laugh that he choked short in order to keep up his serious facade. He let his eyes wander the room to double check your surveying and pretended to be in thought. He let out a heaving sigh and said, “Okay, okay, but you have to lean in close. Can’t have this getting out.”

Ever obliging, you turned your head and leaned until you felt his warm breath on your skin and the roundness of his nose tickling to top of your ear. You were thankful he couldn’t see the little shiver down your spine or the goosebumps spreading down your neck. He was thankful you couldn’t see him close his eyes to savor the scent of your perfume. All was still for a few breaths too long.

“The secret?” you prompted, thinking he was waiting for your urging or that he was just trying to make you squirm. You didn’t see his eyes flutter open while he forced thoughts other than your closeness back into that head of his. Okay, he really needed to do something to reel himself back in and get some control of the situation.  Easier said than done when he’s only a head.

You felt as much as you heard him take a deliberate inhale… only for a loud raspberry to be blown right next to your ear.

Nearly dropping him in shock, you quickly pulled your head back and held him at arm’s length like a misbehaved puppy. Through his canting cackles, Buggy met your wide eyes with a proud grin. It didn’t even need the help of his makeup to split his face. Damn, you could stare at that forever. He had just the prettiest eyes you think you’d ever seen. The way they shifted color under the low lights and sparkled with his smile had you feeling entranced. It had the same commanding presence and addicting warmth as flames with their own swirling colors and sparking embers. You thought your poetic idioms for him would always center around the sea, especially for his blue-green eyes, but here we are.

The corner of his smile started to twitch downward under your stare until wild and cheerful giggles burst from your lips. They were the kind to shake your shoulders and scrunch your cheeks up into your eyes and he’s now certain that he has fucked right up. Buggy felt alarms blaring in his mind as he took in your joy and was certain he would make an absolute fool of himself in any and all ways possible to keep getting hits of it. Between your settling laughter, you managed to say, “Don’t worry, I’ll bring that wisdom with me to my grave.”

Readjusting your grip, you moved forward and dunked the back of Buggy’s head fully into the water. He sighed out at the sensation, but he fully melted when one of your hands went to support the back of his skull and the other flowed through his tresses to make sure all of them were wet. You let yourself take your time, both to make sure you were thorough and to indulge yourself in the comfort of the moment. A tenderness spread through you when you saw that this was also indulging Buggy. His breath was slow and steady, and his eyes were resting closed to better focus on the sensations coming to him. You truly were a people pleaser at heart and seeing someone so bedraggled and affection-starved accept your care made your heart and head feel fuzzy.

You slowly leaned him more upright and used your other hand to wipe out some of the excess water. Buggy felt you shuffling around, and his eyes opened to see what you were up to. After you moved him to rest on the flat bottom of his neck on top of the softest towel that he’s felt in ages, he realized that you went through the trouble to try to make even that wooden board comfortable for his sake. He was starting to feel even more uncertain and out of his element.

Careful fingers carded through and spread out his hair behind him while an equally careful gaze watched over their work. After lathering your hands with a shampoo bar scented by vanilla and spices, you set to work giving him the scalp massage of a lifetime.

While focusing on doing the best job possible and maybe also the beautiful color of his hair was keeping you from thinking about anything else, Buggy had no such luxury. He had nothing to direct his nervous energy at - didn’t even have fingers to fidget with! - so he closed his eyes and tried to keep his face neutral. Everyone enjoys a good scalp massage or at least some kind of pampering so it wouldn’t have been weird for him to visibly enjoy it, but something watery and vulnerable was pressing at his throat under your tender care. His mind and body (well… head) were at odds. While his train of thought spun every which way only to be tethered back to the word ‘why’, his muscles melted until they were soft and pleasantly limp. Has his brow ever been so smooth? His jaw so loose? His lips so softly set? Oh God, you must have noticed the stubborn stiffness in his neck because your fingers abandoned his hair to firmly rub from the base of his skull to where he met the towel and that was truly his undoing.

With a rumbly hum, Buggy finally gave in to temptation and tied his mind to your movements. He let himself imagine affection there - imagine that this was special and just for him. You’ve never tended to anyone else like this. You offered because you simply had to know what his hair felt like. You just wanted to touch him. You wanted it much more than you ever wanted to touch anyone else. If he opened his eyes and looked up at yours, he would see them pouring with love, just like your hands were, and you would look sweetly down at him with your pretty eyes and pretty smile and say lovely things and you’d love him-

You’d love him.

Fuck.

You noticed Buggy suddenly flinch under your hands and you tensed up.

“Are you okay? Did I snag your hair?” You hadn’t felt anything tug but you supposed you could’ve missed it.

Buggy cleared his throat before stiffly responding, “No. Keep going.”

Something thick in his tone caught your attention and you looked to see his expression was tense instead of the blissed out one you had admired not too long ago. That won’t do. You went back to the tried and true pressure points on the scalp that you knew from experience eased anyone up. Checking his face again, you noticed it was more relaxed but still too guarded for your tastes. Deciding he must be getting antsy, you switched to working the shampoo down his hair after getting a touch more product on your hands. The time it took to get it properly sudsed and rinsed was calm, despite the fact that there was some undercurrent to the air that felt charged. Maybe it was just from seeing the talkative and bratty clown be so subdued. As you began spreading conditioner through his hair, you decided that it was time to engage him again.

“This bar is my favorite; nothing makes my hair softer,” you said. Already, his hair was relaxing to glide even more smoothly between your fingers. You weren’t ready to give the feeling up, so you spent the entire time that the conditioner was setting to run your fingers through his hair.

Buggy couldn’t do anything at the moment to judge your claim, but the smell alone made him understand why it was your favorite. It matched that of the shampoo bar, but the richer ingredients in the conditioner highlighted the comforting tones of the vanilla and the sensuality of warm spices and wood. He relished in it on every inhale, hoping to unravel and memorize its every undertone. Was that a touch of orchid in there? A little pink peppercorn? Maybe some incense and amber at the base? Buggy suddenly felt ridiculous. He was never one to give much thought to fancy perfumes, yet here he was trying to dissect your scent like a sommelier tasting a new wine. 

You made quick work of rinsing his hair this final time and gently pushing and squeezing any excess water out. You set Buggy back on a towel, this time one that was spread on the floor. It was the one that you had just been sitting on. Buggy was embarrassed that he noticed and enjoyed the fact that he could still feel your body heat on it.

“How many of those things do you have?” Buggy scoffed as you pulled yet another towel over to dry his hair. You bopped his forehead with a finger in warning against further sass.

“You can never have too many. It’s something that you use daily and they come in handy during emergencies,” you explained.

“Oh yeah like what?”

“Well, I was thinking of situations like having to soak up a spill or blood, but the state of your hair definitely qualifies.”

The outburst was immediate.

“I KNEW YOU WERE MAKING FUN OF ME YOU DAMN LIAR! HOW DA-”

Good thing you were prepared for this and stuffed some of yet another towel into his screaming mouth. He bit down on it harshly and glared at you with all his might. Snarls and grumbles still made their way through the cloth, letting you know just how displeased he was. You were a little shocked to find that despite being gagged and despite just being a head that his glare still actually intimidated you. The time spent with the crew treating him like a harmless little pest had helped you forget that, when push came to shove, he could back up his talk with violence.

The brief glimpse of fear in your eyes gave him a twinge of satisfaction but mostly felt a lot more hollow than he’d expected. Wasn’t this what he wanted? 

When you reached back out to continue drying his hair, you were more tentative than he had ever seen you and his mood dropped even further. Even with your caution, the way that you moved the towel over his hair and gently squeezed more water out of it was filled with care. The whole thing felt very foreign to him. Buggy usually rubbed his towel through his hair chaotically like the more forceful he was the sooner he could get done with the bothersome task. You were working over him like any undue force would be an insult. Like he was something precious. That watery feeling started pressing on him again.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you started quietly. “I just meant to poke fun, not make you actually feel insulted.” After a few more soft pats with the towel, you slowly removed his makeshift gag. He took a moment to wiggle around his jaw and get the dry feeling out of his mouth.

“Yeah, well good job, dumbass,” he bit. You winced at the hurt in his tone. “Just finish up.”

You took a moment to recenter yourself while you grabbed your comb and brush. This was not how you wanted this to go. One wrong comment had sent this whole interaction spiraling and it made you sad. Sensitivity like that was usually built up from years of feeling the same hurts over and over again, and you didn’t ever want to be someone to aggravate an already festering wound, especially not on someone who you genuinely enjoyed. Not on someone who you were increasingly craving affection from. This needed to be fixed. Steeling yourself for the resistance you were about to meet, you began combing the ends of his hair and spoke, “The blue color is so pretty.”

He ignored you. As expected.

“It was one of the first things I noticed about you.” He still wouldn’t even glance up at you. “Also how it brings out the color of your eyes.”

He snorted dismissively in a way that very clearly told you he wasn’t believing a word you said. Also expected. You’re just going to have to soldier on until this eventually worked… maybe worked… hopefully worked?

Just as in the rest of the process, you were slow and thorough when combing his hair. You murmured compliments to him about how soft it is; how thick and how beautiful. By the time that you had switched to using your brush, he was showing signs of being worn down by your flattery. His face was more relaxed and he let himself look around instead of trying to burn a hole through the floor. All you could focus on, though, was how downcast and tired his eyes looked.

“Alright, I’m all finished up,” you told him. “I’m going to put you in the hammock for a minute while I get ready for bed.”

After placing him in the middle of your bedding, you disappeared behind a dressing screen. The routine of bathing  yourself with a washcloth and bowl of soapy water eased you. Since you had taken so much time tending to Buggy, the last bowl of fresh water had become lukewarm. Despite this, the final wipe down had you feeling refreshed and ready to jump into bed. It was no soak in the tub, but still left you feeling much better after a long day of helping work around the ship.

You had set about your routine briskly so that you didn’t leave Buggy waiting too long. Little did you know, he didn’t mind the time of having nothing to do besides enjoy the soft blankets you curled up in every night. He was trying to soak it in before you inevitably put him back down on the floor. If the night had taught him anything, you’d at least put him on one of those fluffy towels instead of throwing him back in the bag like the others did.

You came over to him on the hammock and he admired how you looked, now clean and fresh in a modest slip. When you picked him back up, your face and body language were as placid as he had ever seen them and he was surprised at how content that made him feel. He readied himself to be moved away, left cold and forgotten, but he was astonished when you plopped yourself in your bedding instead with him still in your hands. The shock must have shown on his face because you giggled at him and gave him a bright smile. Even with the bumpy road that the night had been, your smile made him soft and content. He was realizing with more and more resignation that your smile and laugh would let you get away with anything when it came to him.

“So no floor? Trying to bribe me with favors?” His voice was mostly back to that sarcastic lilt you’ve come to adore.

Content that he was feeling better, you answered, “Nah, just using you so I can have a teddy bear. Haven’t had a good one in ages.”

Making good on that promise, you made sure that he was securely nestled into your neck and shoulder. You used both of your arms to cradle him there and both hands to continue your worship of his hair. It was just barely damp and the coolness felt nice on your hands, especially in contrast to the cozy heat emanating from his head. His long eyelashes tickled at your neck every time he blinked, just like the light scruff on his jaw teased at your chest. His big nose felt cozy rested on your clavicle, and you had to resist the urge to reach down and trail your fingers on it. A giddy and victorious feeling flushed through you when you felt him close his eyes a final time and sink into your embrace.

Buggy should have known that he was doomed from the start. He was having a hell of a time trying not to moan at your fingers scratching and massaging his scalp, both during the hair care and now, when he was held in your arms. He couldn’t stop his little movements to nestle into you and get just that much more of your warmth and touch. If he thought that he loved the smell of you before, he was absolutely intoxicated now that he knew what it was like when it floated over the two of you while wrapped in body-warmed sheets.

He wanted to ask you why you were doing all of this, but he didn’t want to know the answer. Not right now. Right now he was going to let himself go back into that place in his head where you lo- cared about him. A place where each night he would crawl into bed with you and, no matter how the day went, you would be there to empty his mind of anything but the two of you. You’d greet him with a kiss or a laugh or an embrace and you would shine with so much joy because he’s next to you again. He’d know what your love felt like, how your body felt under his hands, how your skin felt under his lips. All these daydreams swirling in his head started to make him sick with want, and he needed to know at least one of them. He couldn’t handle all of them staying forever in his mind.

The tiniest increase of pressure from his lips brought your attention to where they rested below your collarbone. The almost kiss was so heartbreakingly shaky and hesitant that you felt your eyes burn with the threat of tears. To reassure him, you dragged your cheek across his temple before turning to leave a deliberate kiss there. Buggy relished the contact, the satisfied sigh you let out afterward, and the gentle weight of your cheek as you snuggled back into him. Your reward came in the form of a grinning cheek pushing into you.

All his humor and posturing certainly caught your attention in the best way and even his explosive temper was something you couldn’t say turned you away. This gentleness, though, this uncertain and wounded place, had you bursting with affection and you were hoping to keep experiencing it. You’d meet it each time with steady affection until it turned into something he embodied with the same surety that he had in his beloved spotlight.

Both of you slipped more sweetly into dreams, curled up together as you were, and with more peace and ease than the years before had allowed. Neither of you would let the years to come be absent of this sweet treasure, either.

Next->

[emphistic]

Greedy

A/N: requested by @charbunxxi — i did something a little different, lmk if you would rather me repost a more accurate version to your request

The first thing Sukuna thought about after getting off his shift was you. You were the only thing he thought of while working, too. And, on the drive home, he almost crashed his car due to the fact that you were the only thing on his mind.

Some might say he's obsessive. Some might say he's deranged. Some might say he's a man deserving of nothing.

But then there's you, who says he's just a man in love.

He's a man who makes you breakfast and coffee — the way you like it. He's a man who draws you baths and washes your hair. He's a man who carries your bags after having gone shopping — with his card, obviously. He's a man who arrives at the apartment and — even then, still looks for home. He's a man who looks for you.

However, this time — unlike all other times, after slipping off his footwear and coat, he is unable to find you.

Maybe you were taking a shower? No. Maybe you were watching TV in the living room? Nope. Maybe you were doing laundry? Not even close.

When Sukuna finally succeeded in his search for you in your shared bedroom, he facepalmed. "'m so fuckin' stupid," he grunts out, as he crawls into bed.

You had fallen asleep while trying — but failing — to stay up in order to greet Sukuna after he returned home from work; but, he had had a longer shift than usual, and forgot to tell you.

He didn't mean to wake you. After all, it's not his fault that your pet cat just had to let out the world's loudest meow, announcing his arrival.

"You've got to be kidding me," he whispered, glaring at the little nuisance laying in the bed, cuddled up in your loving arms. The loving arms where he should be, not some ugly, good-for-nothing feline.

"My bad, baby. Swear, didn't mean to wake you—" He goes in to place a kiss on your cheek, but you simultaneously swerve away from him.

"No," you softly whine, shoving your head into the pillow.

"The fuck you mean 'no'? You seriously gonna deprive me of my well deserved kiss? After working a twelve hour shift?"

"No kisses." You mumble, your voice muffled.

Sukuna blinked at you, once, twice, thrice, until he finally concluded that you weren't just fucking around with him, and you were actually denying him of something totally essential to his well-being.

How was he meant to go on without your kisses? How would he live, breathe, eat, sleep, without your affection?

He tried to remove you from the pillow, but you instantly shoved your face back. "Noo."

"Sweetheart, I love you, y'know that already. And I wouldn't force you to do anything against your will. But, you don't understand, baby. What you're doing is completely and utterly cruel. This is wrong, on so many levels." He tried, again, to peel your face away from the pillow. And he succeeded, this time. But this time, you had a nasty pout on your face.

"You wanna know what's cruel? The fact you haven't showered, and yet, still have the audacity to crawl into bed. I'll have you know, I just replaced the bedsheets, and now here you are — dirtying them up."

"Babe, please—" He started.

"You are stinking up the whole goddamn apartment, Sukuna."

"You don't gotta be this way. We can talk it out."

"Sukuna—"

"C'mon, pretty girl. Just one? For little ol' me?"

You grumbled, but complied, albeit begrudgingly. "Fine, only one. But you have to take a shower after—mmph!"

Sukuna grabbed your face in his hands and tackled you down onto the bed, smashing his lips against yours so zealously that even the cat jumped out of your arms and off the bed.

-

It, indeed, was not just one kiss. But, it wasn't a total loss. Sukuna did end up taking that shower. And he gave you a reason to, as well.

Taglist: @beyond-your-stars @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @taiyakii @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside @kelerina-ballerina @emikokomura

[odxrilove]

☆ SEVENTEEN AS PEOPLE AT SCHOOL

genre: highschool!au/uni!au

warnings: none

a/n: is this my official tumblr comeback ?? 😮

back to masterlist!

☆ SEUNGCHEOL

the leader of the “jocks”. he's the guy you see walking around school with his varsity jacket on– even if it’s in the middle of the summer. he’s the literal definition of the hallway crush, whispers and giggles being a regular thing he hears when he walks through the school hallways, hand swiping through his pretty hair. he often sits on the wooden tables outside instead of the benches whenever he and his friends have their little weekly hangout-meeting. always has a lollipop in his mouth and says it’s for the girls but really, he just likes sweets.

☆ JEONGHAN

the king of debates. if you sign up for debate class, don’t think you’re ever going to win if you’re up against jeonghan. he’s the reason why so many people left debate class mid year but the teacher is so impressed by him that she can’t force herself to kick him out. he’s also widely known for being the mastermind behind his high school’s senior prank. besides his maniac pranks and his broad knowledge of law, he’s actually pretty fun to be around and some girls who have had the pleasure to go on dates with him describe him as an angel– even after getting ghosted.

☆ JOSHUA

the class president. he’s a close friend of jeonghan and thus, winning the class pres’ election was easy peasy. he only presented himself as a joke but started taking it seriously 7 months in when the school planned to cancel the annual pajama day. he acts normal but he’s truly just as insane as his large group of friends. the grumpy math teacher is his next door neighbor and he once gave her leftover cookies and since then, he’s been her favorite student– and the only student she smiles at.

☆ JUN

the cat defender. falls easily asleep in class and is often woken up by his classmates after the bell rang. someone once drew a cat on a wall in the gym hall with a marker a few years back and when jun transferred to the school, his name mysteriously appeared under the cat drawing. in his second year, he got detention for a whole month after bringing a kitten to school and hiding it in his bag every day for two weeks straight– he was only caught because the cat meowed during a test and none of his classmates wanted to fake meow to help the poor guy out.

☆ HOSHI

the school’s dance machine. when the school speakers play music, you’ll always find him bobbing his head to the beat. he gets his notebook confiscated weekly because he prefers to write down possible dance movements and new choreography ideas than math equations and english vocabulary. he has a pretty big following on social media after a video of him freestyling at the school’s talent show blew up. he now uses his popularity to freely make dance covers at school, students avoiding him in the hallways when he’s swinging his legs and arms around.

☆ WONWOO

the school library’s only visitor. ok, maybe that’s a bit exaggerated but he’s definitely the only one going there willingly! the library stinks and there’s no wifi, plus some rumors are going around saying that the room at the back the of the library is the go-to place to fuck, and lastly, the librarian is a bitch– except towards wonwoo, of course. besides him being the librarian’s favorite, he once got asked to prom by a senior when he was a junior and every two months or so, someone brings it up and everyone goes crazy over it again. to be honest, if he wasn't so focused on his video games and books he would see how many people stare at him with heart eyes.

☆ WOOZI

the normal kid. what else can i say, he's just a regular guy. he goes to school wearing his silly baggy outfits and doesn't leave the house without his headphones on. he meets up with his friends and has lunch with them. he isn’t quiet but he isn’t talkative either, only partaking in his friends’ silly little conversations when he deems necessary. he gets normal grades and enjoys his silly music class the most. he’s on the school’s swimming team and won a few silly prizes during competitions. he’s been the subject of affection from a few girls since the start of school and he’s been on a date once. really, he’s just a silly little guy living his silly little life– what’s there to hate?

☆ SEOKMIN

the theatre kid. you either hate him or love him, there’s no in between– fortunately, no one really hates seokmin. he’s a loud student, his laugh often resonating through the entire cafeteria. he’s always been part of the cast for the school musicals, landing the lead role in his first year, something that had never ever happened before. the only kisses he’s had were during rehearsals or actual performances but he knows he has a large group of fans so nobody can really tease him for it. one of the school’s old students still has one-sided beef with him because seokmin ‘stole’ his role.

☆ MINGYU

the popular kid. he’s part of every club on campus, and has a hard time juggling football practice with the weekly sessions of the photography club. in his second year he decided he wanted to be an architect and since then he always complains about the school’s awful floor plan. people in the art club always go to him when they need a model because he has the Looks and actually knows how to pose. he’s actually very fun and the epitome of your rich friendly student who deserves to be crowned prom king. he’s known around school for mowing the lawns of his neighbors for free, shirtless.

☆ MINGHAO

the fashion police. there’s no better way to define minghao, as his judgmental faces have become an obsession for people on campus. he loves clothes and the fact he’s hoarding a drawer in his roommate’s closet further proves it. there's’ not one day that goes by where minghao doesn’t eat with his outfit, nails painted and sunglasses on his head– even in the winter. if you have to dress up for something, going to minghao’s dorm for help is the best solution. he’s rather honest, not hiding his disgust or love for people’s outfits. he was actually voted prom king (mingyu ending second) and was happy the crown fit the aesthetic of his suit. besides being an absolute bitch when it comes to clothing, his soft laugh does ease people’s nerves more often than not.

☆ SEUNGKWAN

the gossiper. or in better words, the head of the journalism club who’s in charge of the weekly school newspaper and news forum on the school’s official website. seungkwan is, with no doubt, respected by all. truthfully, he’s a good student, so teachers often let him write in his journal for new articles during class. there’s one unofficial rule though– you have secrets? do not share them with him. you can, however, ask him about other people’s business, and as long as you give him something in return, he’s glad to talk your ears off. you’re safe if you’re his friend though, because there isn’t someone as loyal as seungkwan walking down the school hallways.

☆ VERNON

the skater enthusiast. he always walks around wearing big weird hoodies, holding onto his skate and if it's one of those days, a beanie and some funky shoes complete the outfit. his skate is like an extension of his hand but does he know how to skate though? absolutely not. his friends now have multiple bandaid and first aid kits in their lockers because vernon never bothers to buy any but spends most of his lunch breaks trying to learn new tricks– and subsequently failing. he’s a sweet kid but a bit of an airhead, often bumping into people and staring at the people talking at him until he realizes the reason he couldn’t hear them was because he still had his headphones on.

☆ DINO

the school’s unofficial cheerleader’s cheerleader. it was truly a tragic day when the cheerleading squad’s manager got fired for fraud– not because of the money (duh) but because of the now lost cheerleaders. dino used to do gymnastics when he was young so in his eyes, he was their last hope. he was a god at planning cheerleading practices and events and in less than a year, the squad managed to win back their spot as number one during the cheerleading season. the school’s reputation was restored and suddenly all the teachers loved him. dying his hair blonde during a celebration party was the last straw for many– his locker would be full of confession letters the weeks following.

taglist: @0x1lovebot @fairybinie @blaqpinksthetic @odetoyeonjun @pockyandme @soobin-chois @soobisms @junityy @kaimal @laylasbunbunny @jaeyunverse @enhacolor @honglynights @starry-mins @bibinnieposts @yoonzin0 @raevyng @hoeforcheol @pearlygraysky @4xiaojun @viscade @amxlia-stars

please do not copy, repost or steal any of my work. all content belongs to @odxrilove

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 42]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.3K

"We're going down to the beach, jagiya. Wanna come with?" Wooyoung poked his head into your room.

"I just laid down after unpacking. Go ahead, I'll join in a bit." You groaned, waving him off. He scurried over to give you a kiss on the cheek before leaving.

"Psst, baby." Yunho came in after Wooyoung left. You said something, muffled by the blanket that you face was squished against. You heard him laugh and his feet padding over. Then all of a sudden, you felt his weight on you as he laid his body over yours.

"Ack! Yunho!" You turned your head to protest.

"Hi, my love." He flipped you over to face him and hovered over you. He grinned and showered you in kisses.

"Mmm! Okay, enough. Down, puppy!" You yelled, trying to stop his attack on you but that wasn't going to deter him. He just attacked your even more.

"Why didn't you want to go to the beach with the others?" He yelled, wrapping his arms around your waist, dropping beside you.

"Tired from unpacking. I might take a short nap before going." You yawned, turning to face him.

"We should be sharing a room. You know I'll still come over to sleep here anyway. Why don't you want to share a room with me?" He whined, nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head.

"Well, sometimes I might want to room with Hwa or Woo too. You have to be fair, Yun." You squished his cheeks in your hands, making him lips pucker. It was so cute that you giggled, leaning forward to press your lips against his. But Yunho had other plans, hand coming to hold your head in place so he could kiss you longer.

"Can't breathe!" You smacked his shoulder to let you go. He just had a big grin on his face.

"I am being fair. I'm your boyfriend so naturally, I room with you. Simple as that." He pointed out. You rolled your eyes, slinging an arm over his shoulders.

"Come on. You hardly spend time with Mingi too ever since we started dating. He was excited to room with you." You said.

"I doubt it. And we've been spending our whole lives together, he's fine." Yunho scoffed.

"I'm going to nap." You turned to reach for your phone on the nightstand and set an alarm. You did still want to hang at the beach for a while so you definitely didn't want to oversleep.

"Sleep then, love. This vacation is also for you to relax and get some rest." Yunho stroked your hair, kissing your forehead.

"You too, Yun... You've been putting in so much time and effort to running the restaurant so this will be a break for you too, hmm?" You looked up at him, fingers brushing against his chin. He nodded and tightened his hold around you.

"Baby, wake up~ We gonna go to the beach remember?" Yunho sang, kissing your cheek multiple times. You scowled, elbowing him in the ribs to make him go away.

"I forgot what Seonghwa hyung said about trying to wake you..." He groaned in pain.

"Come on, love. You'll regret it if you don't go. The boys are already there." Yunho was relentless, holding a pillow in front of his face now.

"Buh me beech wi sil pee der." You mumbled.

"My sweet love, I have no idea what you're saying right now." Yunho giggled, pressing his face into the side of your face, giving you another kiss on the cheek.

"There, there, up we go!" He enthusiastically lifted you to sit up, cooing at you as if you were a baby while brushing the hair away from your face.

You let out a long sigh and opened your eyes, shooting Yunho the stink eye. He just smiled smugly and hugged you to his chest. Groaning and whining, you slid out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, grabbing your bathing suit on the way. You tied your hair into a bun and put on sunscreen.

"Alright. Done." You emerged from the bathroom. Yunho was not expecting you to be in your bathing suit with his shirt as a cover.

"I-Is that my shirt?" He blinked, feeling his cheeks heat up and his ears turn red.

"Uh, yeah. It's one of the one you left at mine. Is it okay if I borrow it? It's the perfect length to cover the bathing suit, you and your long torso." You chuckled.

"I'm more than fine with it. You look great in my clothes, wear it more often." He put his hands on your hips.

"Sure." You laughed at how silly he was, tip toeing to give him a kiss.

"Go change, I'll meet you downstairs." You said. Yunho nodded and went to his room. You went to the kitchen, grabbing two bottles of sodas and bags of snacks to eat.

"I'm ready! Let's go swim!" Yunho marched up the stairs from his shared bedroom with Mingi. You figured that they probably took one of the basement rooms. He carried the drinks for you so you could grab your things with a towel tucked under your arm.

"Look who woke up the sleeping bear." Seonghwa ran over to you, seeing you and Yunho walk over to the shore front from the deck.

"Did you just call me a bear?" You scoffed.

"Thought we wouldn't see you for the rest of the day." Mingi chuckled, patting your shoulder. You punched his arm and went to sit with Hongjoong under the beach umbrella.

"Ocean not your thing?" You asked, opening on of the soda bottles and taking a gulp.

"When all Mingi and San want to do is drown each other, then Wooyoung and Jongho join in on that... It's not fun." He scoffed.

"Their chaos knows no end." You shook your head. Speaking of, you watched how Wooyoung tackled Yunho to the sand and Jongho helped by stacking himself on top.

"PUPPY PILE!" San yelled and the rest all stacked on top, making you and Hongjoong wince.

"Yah! Be careful! I still need an intact boyfriend at the end of the day!" You yelled but of course they ignored you, continuing to squish your tall boyfriend into the sand. All you could do was watch and hear Yunho's yells of defeat and the others' yells of victory echo throughout the whole beach.

"(y/n)! Save me!" Yunho called out.

"Looks like you've got it under control, Yun!" You yelled back, raising your drink to him. Eventually, they did let Yunho come up but he stormed over to you.

"How did I have it under control?! I was suffocating and dying! Nice to know you have my back!" Yunho frowned.

"Sorry, Yun. There was no way I could stop them. They would just stack on top of me too." You shrugged, shaking your head.

"Don't pout." You patted his cheek, holding up the bottle of soda you brought for him as some sort of peace offering. Yunho did take it but set it down without drinking, confusing you.

"Yunho!" You squealed as he suddenly lifted you up bridal style. You scrambled to wrap your arms around his neck.

"Jeong Yunho! You overgrown golden retriever! Put me down now!" You scolded, watching as he headed towards to the water.

"The water is looking nice and cooling, isn't it, love?" Yunho smirked as he stood in the water that brushed against his knees. You continued to yell for your friends to help you, clutching onto Yunho like a scared cat.

"Remember cats don't like water, Yunho!" Seonghwa yelled from where he was standing, just watching this go down. You shot him a glare, that wasn't very helpful.

"Yunho, you'll regret this." You threatened.

"You're so cute when you try to be fierce, love. But remember, you asked for this." He chuckled.

"How did I ask for this?! I offered you a soda! I seriously encourage you to reconsider this, Yunho!" You squealed. He seemed to contemplate it for a second and you were relieved.

Until he dropped you. But your tight grip on his neck didn't relent, ending up with him being dragged down as well.

"Ah~ It's cold!" You splashed the water at Yunho, a dramatic frown and pout on your face while he laughed.

"Park Seonghwa!" You got up and ran over to your best friend.

"Oh no, you're not!" Seonghwa ran away, knowing what you were going to do. Luckily this time, Jongho and Wooyoung helped you, stopping Seonghwa and holding him in place. You plastered your wet self to him, hugging him tightly. He howled at the feeling of the cold wetness seeping into his skin.

"You!" Seonghwa's face looked like the red-faced angry emoji and you ran to get a headstart, turning to see him chase you angrily. You laughed out loud as you ran.

"Ack!" You saw Yunho doing to same to Mingi, hugging him with his best friend with wet clothes too.

"Got you!" Seeing how you were momentarily distracted by Yunho and Mingi, Seonghwa tackled you into the sand.

"Yeah! Panné her like a pork cutlet!" Wooyoung cheered Seonghwa on. The both of you burst out laughing, of course all of you would use food analogies to egg each other on.

"Choi San! Kang Yeosang! Put me down!" The both of you watched Yeosang and San carry Hongjoong to the water.

"No!" His sunglasses were slipping down his face as he squirmed but the two were the strongest in the group, he wouldn't be able to fight them off.

"Yah! I'm your hyung!" Hongjoong panicked, his voice going an octave higher.

"Bye, hyung!" On the count of 3, the two men flung Hongjoong's body into the water like he weighed nothing, quickly fleeing the scene before Hongjoong could recover. You and Seonghwa sat beside each other, laughing so hard your stomachs hurt.

"I'm hungry." Seonghwa stated.

"You're always hungry." You snorted, making him shove your shoulder. But you did get up with him, going to the umbrella where your things were to find snacks.

"Oh, Yunho says the kitchen is empty so we have to go get food at the nearby supermarket for meals and all that." You informed.

"Sure. Wanna wash off and go now?" Seonghwa asked, emptying the small bag of pretzels into his mouth.

"Okay." You grabbed your things and stood up to rinse off so you wouldn't bring sand into the house and your room. You went back to the house with Seonghwa and separated to shower.

'Going with Hwa to buy groceries for the house. I'll see you later. Love you! - (y/n)'

You sent Yunho a text as you jumped into one of the vans with Seonghwa. He plugged his phone in to play music while you drove.

"This should be it. Let's see what they have and get food for the meals. We can always come back for fresh vegetables instead of buy them to store." You said, parking the van. Seonghwa hummed and you walked to the store together. He pushed the cart while you looked at the produce.

"We should get the staples first." He adviced. You got salt, pepper, red pepper flakes, red pepper paste, bean paste, zucchinis, garlic, onions, a few types of kimchi, peppers and tofu.

"We'll do barbecue for one of the night's right?" You asked. He nodded and you went to the meat counter to order from the butcher.

"Hwa, there's something I need to discuss with you. I've talked to Jongho about this-"

"It's about our contracts almost finishing, right?" He cut you off with a small, knowing smile as he leaned against the cart while you both waited for the butcher.

"Yeah..." You nodded slowly.

"I figured, considering we are celebrating a year since the restaurant opened, it also means our contracts are expiring." He shrugged.

"Right... Do you have a plan or inkling of what your decision is? And when I say your plan, I mean, regardless of what my plan is and what I plan to do." You quickly clarified. Seonghwa threw his head back with laughter at your words.

"You always feel guilty when we say we'll stick with you." Seonghwa chuckled, patting your head.

"Because right now, I don't know what I want to do or what I should do. By now, I would have moved on to another restaurant. But I also didn't think I would be dating the owner." You sighed.

"Whether you stay on or not, it wouldn't change your relationship with Yunho, you know that." He said.

"Yeah, that's what Jongho said. But... I don't know..."

"But you like change, that's why you go to different restaurants after your contracts end." Seonghwa pointed out. You thanked the butcher and put the meat in the cart.

"But Yunho's one of the things that I want to keep constant. I don't want change in that aspect." You shrugged.

"Ah, I don't know. I know Yunho would want me to do what's best for my career but... there's this underlying... I don't even know what it is... guilt?" You groaned in frustration while Seonghwa put soy sauce in the cart. He reached out to hold your hand, squeezing it reassuringly, a soft smile on his face.

"I'll stick with you. No matter where you go. And no, that's not to burden you or to make you think about my 'future' as a chef. I'm supporting you." He leaned down to tell you.

"You're just like Jongho. You all have such amazing skills that will get you places, you shouldn't have to stick with me." You said.

"But we want to stick with you. It's how we've learnt and picked up these skills." Seonghwa shrugged.

"And that's another same thing Jongho said to me." You laughed, grabbing some random snacks, especially a few bags of Yunho's favourite potato chips.

"There they are!" The two of you turned to see Wooyoung standing at the end of the aisle, pointing at the two of you.

"(y/n)!" Yunho had the brightest smile on his face, running over to you excited.

"Y-Yun!" You yelped. It was like a giant golden retriever galloping to a kitten. He nearly knocked you over, his arms wrapped around you as he squeezed you to his chest. Your winces were muffled against him as he lifted you up, laughing all the way.

"Yun! I can't breathe! And we saw each other an hour ago! You're acting like we haven't seen each other in years." You slapped his shoulder to let you go.

"But I still missed you." He whimpered. You laughed, he was always so adorable with his mannerisms.

"Alright, now where were we?" He asked, hooking arms with you and mindlessly marching down the shopping aisle with you.

"I got the most important thing!" Wooyoung rushed over with his own cart, filled with different kinds of alcohol, mainly different flavours of fruit soju.

"Woo! That's way too much alcohol!" Seonghwa scolded.

"It's fine, hyung. We'll probably finish half of this by tonight." Wooyoung waved the older off.

"Half?! No way, I'm not dealing with any of your drunk selves tonight." Your eyes widened at his declaration. Shaking your head, you ignored Wooyoung and continued getting the rest of what you needed. Yunho melted seeing how you've already planned to buy him so many packs of his favourite snacks.

"Bacon, eggs, cheese, milk... Sausages... We need to get bread too." You said, putting multiple packs of bacon into the cart. Yunho ran to get a few loaves of bread for you.

"Are we good?" You asked. Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Yunho looked over the cart one last time.

"We're good. Let's head back." Seonghwa pushed all of you towards the cashiers.

"You carry this. We'll carry the rest." Wooyoung cooed and patted your head, giving you the small box with all the chips instead, which practically weighed nothing.

"I can carry more, you know?" You raised an eyebrow.

"We can manage. Don't want you getting injured, sweetheart." Seonghwa said. You gave him a flat look.

"We got it, love. Let's go." Yunho smiled, walking beside you, carrying all the stuff. You went out to the two vans and unloaded all the groceries that you bought, which was a lot since it was food and drinks for 9 people.

"Wanna be my passenger princess?" You asked Yunho. He blinked in surprise at your question, pointing at himself in confusion. You nodded your head.

"Sure. Are you buying me dinner first?" He playfully flirted with you, batting his eyelashes.

"Yeah. Mcdonalds drive thru good?" You scoffed, opening the door for him to get into the passenger seat.

"Usually Mingi is the princess but I don't mind being your princess." He giggled while you get into the driver's seat. You laughed at how silly he was.

"Are the others still at the beach?" You asked.

"Not sure. When I noticed you were gone, I went to look for you and jumped into Wooyoung's van." He shrugged.

"Well, puppies do get separation anxiety." You pointed out, reaching over to pat his thigh. He turned his head to glare at you while you smugly smiled to yourself. Any chance to tease Yunho's likeness to a golden retriever puppy and to see his reaction to it. You parked next to Wooyoung and opened the trunk.

"My brain's already in holiday mood because I am still sleepy." You yawned, carrying the box to the house. Hongjoong opened the door for you all of you.

"Here, let me." Jongho, of course, relieved you of what you were carrying first, even if it was the lightest out of all the bags.

"Go take another nap, love." Yunho said, pressing his body to your side and kissing the top of your head.

"I'm fine, I should help prepare for dinner." You leaned against his chest. Yunho continued to plant kisses on your head and you tried to escape the grip he had on your waist.

"Yunho!" You squealed.

"Ugh alright, we get it. We're single!" Mingi groaned, shaking his head at the two of you. You and Yunho simulatenously stuck your tongues out at him. You patted Yunho on the hip and went to the kitchen to help your crew prepare for dinner.

"We'll do some marinated meat. The rest is plain grill." Seonghwa told you as you washed your hands.

"We can help with the grilling later!" San said from the couch.

"Wait, wait, wait. Before we start on this. I'm declaring that the party starts right now." Wooyoung said, placing 4 shot glasses on the table. He opened a bottle of soju and handed them out.

"Uh oh, this looks like a bad idea." Jongho laughed but still clinked glasses with the rest of you before taking the shot.

"I'll make sure you get to bed later, love." Yunho chuckled, looking on in amusement.

"I hope we at least make it to grilling the actual food and eating it." You shook your head, beginning to pour the ingredients for the bulgogi into a bowl before adding the beef.

"Beef bulgogi done. Are we doing spicy pork belly?" You asked. Seonghwa nodded his head, sliding the gochujang over to you. After making the spicy marinade for the pork belly, you taught Yeosang and Hongjong how to to de-vein the shrimp. Yunho and San were outside on the deck, starting the grill.

"Rice is cooking. Cover and fridge these?" Mingi pointed to the bowls with the marinating meats.

"Yes, please." You smiled, going to wash your hands. After that, you helped prepare the vegetables to be grilled. Wooyoung made the bean paste stew.

"Grill is up and ready for the meats." Yunho came back to your side. This was looking to be a great vacation.

~

Series masterlist

[animentality]

if they'd had any bhaals at all, they would've actually put the dark urge in the game as a companion.

so I could fuck him, first off, because it's horse shit that a dungeons and dragons game wouldn't let me fuck a dragon, like are you serious right now

you let people fuck the lizard from divinity original sin 2. come ON.

but also because I might actually bother playing an origin character AND it would've been really interesting to have him as a companion.

what IF you had to help the dark urge resist?

what IF choosing the evil route was making the dark urge your villain in the end, kind of like the emperor, and you'd realize your mistake in encouraging him to be the chosen of Bhaal again, because he has no need for you?

ugh.

also he would have unique interactions with Gortash, and I fully admit, I would pay 90 USD for this game if it let me throw those two together like Barbies and aggressively mash their faces.

like let me watch those two disgusting men sniff each other like feral cats and then yowling and stinking the whole place up with their nasty ass evil pheromones.

why did you add Halsin but not make the dark urge an actual companion

that's so stupid.

[heyybaejjk]

Plssss do a gabriel ohara × reader

pairings — childhood best friend! gabriel x fem! reader

summary — lil bit of gabriel content, idk what to write for a summary 😛

warnings — this was heavily rushed, angst 🥲🙏 mentions of blood, violence, happy ending, but in the 2nd chapter (yes theres gonna be a 2nd chapter)

a/n — whoever wrote this rq, im so sorry that this is short and very late 😞💞

Childhood best friend! Gabriel at the age of 7 takes your Barbie dolls away from you, not bothered with the way you cry tremendously loud.

"Give it back, Gabri!" you shout, snot and tears running down your small face, jumping up and down in the spot you stood on as you stomp your legs harshly against the floor.

The boy before you just giggles, "Nooo," he sings, dancing and twirling around with the pale doll in his hand.

"You idiot, just give it to her," another voice chimes in, stopping your cries instantly.

Gabriel looks over to the door and sees his older brother, Miguel, who was only a year only than the both of you. Gabriel rolls his eyes before chucking the doll over to you.

Childhood best friend! Gabriel at the age of 12, rides his bike over to your house, knocking on your door with a big smile on his face. Joined along, is Miguel, who was very much forced to tag along by his mother because he needed "protection"

"Look, Y/n! Look! Look!" Gabriel shouts in your face with a big grin on his face as you open the door with a confused look on his face.

He lifts the sleeve of his short sleeved shirt long enough, lifting up his whole arm with a proud smile.

You tilt your head in confusion, "I don't know what I'm supposed to be looking at, Gabri."

He scoffs, arm still in the air as he rolls his eyes. "It's right in front of your blind ass," he whispers, not wanting for your mother inside to hear his language.

"I grew an armpit hair," he flexes his non-existent muscles, "Ha! My mama said I'm a real man now."

"Yeah, you stink like one."

Childhood best friend! Gabriel at the age of 16, had gotten his first phone and made his first ever Instagram account.

After only choosing the cringiest username known to existence; @theyluvgabri , he presses onto the search button

The first account he searches for and follows is not his brothers, heck, not even his celebrity crush, the account he searches for first is yours.

His curious self scans the black profile pictures for all three of your untilted highlights. He taps on the first one, he sees a picture of you smiling with your eyes closed.

He admires everything about it. Tapping for the next picture to appear.

A video of you and your black cat, Honey, a name you chose for your cat that Gabriel laughed at non-stop, calling it the stupidest name ever.

He looks at all the photos of you and screenshots every single one of them. Unknowingly, a smile makes its way on his face.

The next highlight he ignores when he sees is all aesthetic photos of the sunset.

The one right after, he stops.

It's a picture of only you and him. And there were more photos of you and him compared to the rest of the other two highlights.

A photo of you two when you were babies, napping together.

A video of you and Gabriel. He always loved to tease you when you did little vlogs the moment you got your phone. He continues with the video, your phone is slightly slanted, you digging up a hole and showing the camera the seeds you stole from your mum's gardening shed. Not noticing Gabriel who comes up from behind you, holding a worm. He tiptoes slowly and places it on your shoulder.

"Omg! Look! Look!" he yells, feigning his worry.

He laughs to himself when the video cuts perfectly when you scream.

The next is a photo of you and him in a photo booth, you had your hand covering your beautiful smile as he used a strand of your hair and put it between his puckered lips and nose as a pretend moustache.

His heart flutters. That was the moment he knew his heart was for you.

That night, he rambles on and on to his older brother, Miguel.

"I think I like her, Miggs."

"Then tell her you idiot."

Childhood best friend! Gabriel at the age of 17 punches the living shit out of the boy who stood in front of him.

How fucking dare he?

He dared to open his mouth about you.

Gabriel had missed his best friend. You were at home sick in bed, so he sent a quick message saying he missed you, and to get well soon before making his way to class.

All the noise around him was nothing to hin, until he walks by and overheard a group of boys saying your name. Foul, disgusting things were said.

Gabriel pulls the main friend of the group by the shoulder and punches him right in the nose.

Everything turns into a chaotic clutter in a matter of seconds, bloodied noses, bruised cheeks and bruised knuckles.

Gabriel pushes, pulls, kicks and punches. Anything to defend his friend who wasn't there.

Anything to keep his friend's name out of another guy's disgusting mouth.

He feels a strong pull on his collar, disconnected from the guy he lunged at.

"What the fuck is going on?!"

It was Miguel's voice.

Of fucking course, Gabriel thinks.

"It was him! He fucking started it," the guy opposite Gabriel, his name being John, yells with anger, spitting at him while doing so.

Gabriel growls and tries to lunge at him but is stopped when Miguel pushes him back with one hand, the other holding the other guy back as well.

"Say sorry, you fucking idiot! Keep my girl's name out your mouth, cabrón!" Gabriel shouts. His words don't even phase him the slightest. It does, however, bother the older O'Hara sibling. If Gabriel even noticed the hesitation in Miguel's eyes.

"Tone it down, Gabri," Miguel glares.

Those around the main three stood in silence. The flashes of their phone turn off, all looking at Gabriel.

John dares to chuckle and smirk, his brow raises, "Your girl? That's funny, Gabriel."

"What the fuck are you lauging at?" Gabriel hisses.

The guy scoffs before hiding his sly smile, "It's just funny 'cause last time I saw your so-called girl, she was kissin' up to Miguel."

Gabriel's heart stops.

"Right, Miguel?" John adds to the fire that burned Gabriel's heart.

Miguel averts his gaze when Gabriel looks at him. His heart shatters when his brother looks to the ground.

"I fucking hate you," he pushes his brother away and runs out of the school building.

Childhood best friend! Gabriel who unadds and blocks you on everything he had you on the same night without giving an explanation.

there's going to be a pt 2 dw dawg 🤞

[aylish91]

Could I ask for a Leviathantale Nightmare x Skeleton Cecaelia reader? Can you base it off this picture:

Or even the one you reposted from me? You don't have to if you don't want to.

(by the way, the picture attached here is based off of cats cleaning each other with their tongues. Though it might be kinda cute as an idea.)

Hello, hello Fluffy! I loved your art! Thanks again for letting me know about and see them! I enjoyed the conversations too. I hope this meets your standards my friend!

~ ~ ~

Grooming Bonds

You picked at the exposed joints in your hands, doing your best to get the leftover fish slime and sand out of the exposed magic. There had been a particularly fruitful hunt earlier in the evening and everyone had slowly dispersed into their respective piles to preen now that the meal was over.

Having dragged Dust back into the main nest, Axe held him down while he meticulously picked at the vertebrae of the smaller mer’s back. It had taken a bit of finagling, but Axe had managed to get Dust’s staple hoodie and scarf carefully placed to the side for the rare show of bones. Dream and Cross weren’t far from the pair, helping groom each other while Killer teasingly flicked sand at them with his tail from his position on “the rock”. Understandably, while Dream reverted to stifled giggles, Cross swiped at said tail and threatened to attack if Killer didn’t stop.

In all, after such an eventful day, it was a typical relaxing evening.

However, you had yet to join any piles, not knowing where or who to insert yourself with. Axe would have made a good choice had he not been so focused on a squirming Dust. Dream probably wouldn’t have minded an extra companion, but Cross had asked him first. Killer and Dust… You weren’t sure if either of them would have taken you seriously.

So there you were. With the group but somehow still the odd one out. It was fine. You always had tomorrow to try again…

Or so you thought.

Watching from his perch on the ship, Nightmare suddenly swooped down to sneakily grab you from behind, placing himself close enough to the nest that his tentacles could idly circle the shiver while still giving them space. You were placed in the equivalent of a lap amongst his tentacles.

“It isn’t well that you still sit alone, little fish. These little moments are times of bonding. No one should be alone during such opportunities.”

There were a few chuckles from the others as you squeaked and tried to twist in his grasp, heat blossoming on your cheeks. “It’s okay! You don’t— I can do it myself. The others already had partners anyway.”

Nightmare didn’t take any head, humming knowingly before delicately looking over your vertebrae in a similar fashion Axe was. It was Dream that sympathetically called to you.

“You don’t have to be shy, even if there are already pairs. There is always room for one more. It is more important to have these kinds of bonding moments.”

Killer grinned, peppering Cross with an especially harsh sand cloud. “Lucky. I bet she just didn’t want to get near Criss Crossies stink ~ ”

“Hey!” It was hard not to laugh along with everyone when Cross finally did tackle Killer, their tails and limbs tumbling out of the nest to kick up stray seaweed and kelp. Nightmare only sighed and sunk lower into his mass.

“Pay them no mind. Although inconvenient, play can also be a form of bonding.”

You had to hide the blooming smile behind a bony hand, watching Dream move on to comb over Axe as he worked.

It was nice. In a way, their nonchalance about the whole thing helped ease your tense nerves. Even with the two wrestling mer, you found that you felt comfortable enough to continue cleaning your hands and arms. It did little to take your mind off the relaxing way Nightmares claws passed over you, but it gave you something to occupy you. It wasn’t until you were shifted against the leviathan’s large chest that you stopped what you were doing to look up.

You weren’t expecting the large glowing tongue that came next. For as long as you had been with the shiver, you had never seen Nightmare lick anyone when grooming. The boys did it all the time. Even Dream on occasion, but Nightmare had kept to himself or only helped with joints and recesses.

The sensation made you squeak and giggle, each new pass filling you with warmth as you closed your eyes. Then, to add to your surprise, a low purr began to vibrate against you and the water.

If you hadn’t been content before, you most certainly were now. Something about sharing this moment with the dark guardian made everything else seem trivial. You didn’t need to worry about your place if he was willing to be this close with you. You were allowed to be here. You were accepted and nothing else mattered.

He was kind, and you belonged.

“Better?”

Your tentacles curled and unfurled in embarrassment as you gave him a sly smile. You blamed your rising courage on the guardian.

“Yes. But, I should be returning the favor.”

Floating up, you licked his forehead before slipping down to cling and pick through the vertebrae closest to his shoulders and spine. It made a lovely glow brighten his face with that low purr flaring up again.

“O-of course. If you wish, little fish.”

The rest of the boys were awfully giggly the rest of the evening. But you could hardly complain.

Leviathan Master List Grand Master Post

[fuctacles]

| extra1 | extra2 | spicy time skip

!! updated ver !!

Eddie was lowkey disgusted by how his uncle would talk about one of his neighbors. No, he doesn't think it's bad for old people to fall in love or have crushes. But it's weird to know these things about his own uncle. 

And it's also sad to watch, because it's been months of Stephanie this, Stephanie that, and nothing came of it, so he felt safe to assume the infatuation was one-sided. So when he tells his uncle he can't go feed her cats that week, he figures it's for the best. And not only because of Wayne's twisted ankle. To his surprise though, he doesn't seem fazed; he just waves his hand and says:

"Yeah, yeah, I know. No climbing the stairs with this thing." He pokes the cast with his crutch. "I've already volunteered you anyway."

Eddie raises his eyebrows because he surely misheard that.

"You did what now?"

"Told Stephanie I'll send you to feed her cats," Wayne says, confirming his fears.

"Why?! She has so many other neighbors!" Eddie points out, gesturing vigorously around the room, implying but meaning the flats surrounding them. 

Wayne clicks his tongue at him.

"Would you let in just any of your neighbors into your home? She already trusts me, and I'm vouching for you."

Eddie gapes at him, hating that he's making a valid point. Damned be his old man and his reasonable thinking. He crosses his arms because while it makes sense, it doesn't mean Eddie can't be angry about it. 

"When?"

"She's visiting her friend this weekend so she asked for Saturday evening and Sunday morning. And stay with them for a while if possible, so they don't go crazy. Ah, and the plant in the kitchen needs watering."

"Great," Eddie grits through his teeth. He's so delighted at the prospect of spending time with some old lady's cats. The whole place probably stinks of cat piss and he'll definitely kill the plant as soon as he touches it. (It was his only superpower, which is not what he aimed for when his five-year-old had been praying, thanks for nothing, Jesus.) He just hopes he won't have to meet her. Hearing some old hag complain about his clothes, hair, and general adolescence was the last thing he wanted on his weekend off. But, alas...

"She asked you to come over tomorrow so she can show you where everything is."

Eddie groans. 

It's a Friday afternoon, he's at his uncle's taking a break from college and work. He should be sharing a beer with the old man, complaining about the coursework, the professors, and other students, not picking him up from the hospital, and running errands while his foot is in a cast. And certainly not meeting up with old stinky spinsters. 

To add insult to injury, Miss Stephanie, (which, by the way, is such a typical old hag name) lives two floors higher and the elevator is perpetually broken. Not too high, but high enough for Eddie's anemic lungs to start collapsing. 

He stops around the corner to steady his breath, because regardless of his overall attitude, he didn't want to worsen the first impression. He already refused to 'dress like a decent man' and didn't want to wheeze into the lady's face on top of it. 

Once his lungs are functioning properly again, he walks into the hallway, looking for number 54 as Wayne instructed. He knocks on the door, hoping he didn't mess it up and is at the right place. What if it was 45?

It must have been because he was told Stephanie Harrington lives alone. 

"Uh, sorry, I must have—"

"Are you Eddie?" The woman who opened the door takes him in. At her feet, a tabby cat peers curiously at the new human.

"Uh, yeah? I'm looking for Miss Stephanie?" he offers awkwardly. Maybe that's the friend? Or a sister?

But the woman extends her hand and smiles brightly.

"That would be me, but please call me Steph. I wish I could drill that into Wayne's thick skull." She rolls her eyes fondly.

Her big, gorgeous eyes, framed by thick lashes. She's not an old hag, she could be in her forties at best. She's tall and curvy and her hair looks straight out of a shampoo commercial. She's gorgeous. Eddie shakes her hand in a daze.

"Hi," he croaks as he's ushered inside. 

"Come in, come in! I've heard so much about you, it's great to finally see you in person. I must say," she turns around and gives him a quick once-over. "Wayne's stories didn't do you justice."

Did she just check him out?

Eddie clears his throat, suddenly dry like his elbows during winter.

"Uh, same to you."

"Yeah?" She puts her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow. "What does he say about me?"

"Good things only," Eddie assures her. 

"So you're saying I'm a bitch." She squints at him.

"No!" His eyes widen. "What?!" 

"Well, if he's saying only good things about me, and you say they don't describe me right..." 

Eddie gets the point she's making and quickly shakes his head.

"No, he just made you sound like a crazy old cat lady, and you're..." He waves his hand uselessly. "Not that."

She sighs softly, shoulders sagging a little. It would be easy to miss but Eddie's senses are heightened after his fuck up.

"I kinda am, though," she says with a shrug. 

Eddie feels the need to reassure her somehow.

"Well, you're not eighty and your place doesn't smell like cat litter, I think you're fine."

She barks a laugh, it's low and surprised and Eddie's cheeks are red because he's just digging further into the hole he's in, isn't he?

"Good to know the bar is so low."

Eddie groans, tired of doing damage control that's not controlling anything.

"I'm gonna shut up now."

"Please don't." Steph smiles wide and teasingly. "You're a funny one. Just like your uncle told me."

Eddie scoffs. He's going to have a word or two with the old man once he's back.

"Great, this is exactly the impression I was hoping to make."

At his words, the woman eyes him up and down again, and he can feel his cheeks heating up.

"Yeah? Not as the local punk satanist?" she teases, making Eddie bristle.

"Metalhead," he corrects instinctively and immediately winces.

"Ah, my bad. I'm not good at the subcultures thing." She smiles apologetically but it doesn't read well with how clearly amused she is. "Anyway, here's the plant I want you to water tomorrow evening. Just like, half a glass."

Right. Plants. Cats. He came here on a mission.

"Come on, I'll show you my cats."

[sinnamonpork]

DOING A DOMESTIC AU HEADCANONS FOR DABIHAWKS BC THEY DESERVE IT <33

Nest beds. The softest, most roundest bed you could think of covered with the most random patterns of pillows and blankets. It's partially covered by a canopy bc the boys likes the darkness.

Toga, Tokoyami, and Shiggy are their gremlin kids. Toga is like a cat that goes in and out of their home whenever she wants headpats or to be fed. They have a joint custody with Kurogiri on Tenko, depending on his level of brattiness for the week. Tokoyami is goth birb child, so basically, the only child they acknowledge.

Contrary to popular belief, its not actually Hawks who found all the shinies decorated around the house. Dabi is one hell of a curious villain and would pocket all the shinies he could find, presenting the gifts to Hawks like an oversized cat.

Both of them have the habit of staring but very different in the way they do it. Dabi would pretty much be a gremlin cat, guilt tripping you to pay them attention while he single handedly destroys all your productivity for the day. Meanwhile, Hawks would be the adorable kind. The kind of stare you coo at while also finding lowkey creepy.

Their house is like a revolving door for both heroes and villains. Sometimes they come home to Toga and Ochako just chilling in their hammock all tangled up together. Other times, its Rumi and Shiggy staring at them at 4am from the bedroom door, asking where the cereal is placed.

Shouto has the same grabby hands personality as his big brother. Whenever he visits, 90% of the time one of their shiny decorations inevitably goes missing. Hawks' absolute stink eye whenever the pro hero sees him is so deserved.

BAKUGOU KATSUKI HAVING WEEKLY VISITS TO THEIR HOUSE. To everyone else's horror, touya and katsuki get on like a house on fire. Their insults seem to have a language of their own, and Keigo is helpless to do anything as he watches his husband and this gremlin kid have a shouting match in their kitchen while making the most mouth watering cinnamon buns ever.

The whole Class 1-A once stayed at their house for a day. A frantic Aizawa comes knocking at their door, sees the absolute mayhem, and promptly walks out - probably about to plan a date with Hizashi.

If Shiggy is in the house, Spinner is probably somewhere in there too. They come as a set, buy 1 get 1 free lmao.

dabihawks healing their inner child by fucking around and doing all the things people below the age of 16 do. Disney and Barbie movie marathons are a weekly occurrence. Dabi absolutely adores Megamind, while Hawks leans more towards Rapunzel.

[adalwolfgang]

Gideon Grim | Random headcanons

A/N: These are quite literally random and all over the place. Special thanks to my friend, Mickey, for letting me ramble about this man and giving me some more cute headcanons.

Tags: @my-sanity-is-long-gone

Purs like a cat when you rub his back or run your fingers through his hair. Honestly any soft touch.

Likes comparing y’all’s hands together to see how much bigger his is than yours.

Will nonchalantly grab your hand and turn it around to kiss the inside of your wrist. Or better yet when you rest your hand on his face, he’ll turn his head to kiss the inside of your palm. Will also kiss your knuckles.

Will wear black gloves that are sorta thin so he can still feel you under his hands. Will never not be around you without his gloves on because he doesn’t wanna risk accidentally touching you.

When he’s not on tour, he’ll on occasion keep his hair down and will let you put little braids in it. By the end of it, he might accidentally fall asleep.

Will call you darling, sweetheart, my love, mi amor, etc. Honestly anything starting with “my”.

One day you compare him to a cat and that’s how the pet name “kitty” starts. He doesn’t really mind as long as you keep it private, he’s still got a reputation to uphold Yk?

If you ever dressed up in a stereotypical grim reaper outfit on Halloween, he’ll just roll his eyes while letting out a stifled laugh. He thinks you look like a lunatic but hey, you’re his lunatic.

Definitely reads in bed for you if you’re struggling to sleep. He’s got the perfect voice and attitude for it.

Going out to eat at a restaurant with him. Either you or him are a little bit (or a lot) picky, putting the food you don't want on the other's plate. He’s that whole “they asked for no pickles” but like 10x more scarier.

He’s definitely a good listener aswell! I mean he’s a motivational death coach. Dude is always listening to what you have to say and is your biggest supporter as you are his. He gets deeply touched if you take his advice on scaring for whatever reason or compliment the writing in his books. At that point he feels as if Cupid struck an arrow in his heart.

Smiles so wide if someone even mentions you, whether it be in an interview or at one of his dead talks.

Will definitely tease you when no one’s looking, whether it’s him simply touching you or making faces. If you show any reaction, he teasingly scolds you while a small smirk is edged on his lips.

Definitely likes listening to music like “hit the road Jack” or something similar and dancing with you. He’s a really good dancer and no matter if you stink at it or not, he’ll be swaying you around to the music.

Yk how like in some relationships, people have to get like accepted by their s/o’s family to date them? It’s the same for you and Gideon except it’s with his cat. Like if Muffin genuinely shows hate toward you, he doesn’t think it will work out cause Yk he loves his cat very much. But if it starts off bad and slowly muffin warms up to you, he thinks you’re a keeper. Or if you’re lucky and muffin immediately takes a liking to you, he’s already got a ring in hand.

OWill let you wear his cloak because he finds it humorous how it practically swallows you. More than once has he snuck up behind you and just wrapped his cloak around you like a burrito and carried you to any cushioned surface to cuddle. A man only has so much patience.

Okay now hear me out. Gideon is a swifte (or whatever her fans are called) but not like in the whole has a poster on his wall of her but like, listens to some occasional songs of hers and has some songs he genuinely likes. I mean, he had “Look what you made me do” as a song for one of his dance sequences.

I was also watching a radio podcast of his on Facebook and he literally mentions how he watches stranger things on Netflix in the underworld. He’s a stranger things fan. He definitely likes the demigorgons, and his favorite character is secretly Eleven. Basically that whole “I could be a good mother” but replace it with father.

Gives off girl dad vibes. Would spoil his child(ren) rotten the same way he spoils Muffin.

[nightingaelic]

How about fallout 4 companions reacting to sole who is a young teen but they never knew until they took off their mask?

The metropolitan ruins of the Commonwealth had one advantage that the wider wasteland didn't have - plenty of places to hide. It was sometimes safer for travelers to duck between the urban canyons of the bygone world, pick their way through its shadowy rubble on the way to caps or glory, squeeze between crumbling walls when danger pursued them. It was commonplace to say "the ruins swallowed them" when someone on a trip went missing, and "Boston spat them out again" if and when they finally emerged.

The sole survivor was damn good at this. In fact, they were nearly as much of a phantom as the Silver Shroud, appearing at the strangest times in the most unlikely places, and disappearing again just as fast. Some Goodneighbor ghouls even took to calling them the Shroud, whenever they stalked into town like a feral cat. It didn't do them any favors that they always wore a hood over a gas mask, jumped at sudden noises and refused to let anyone close to them. It earned them odd looks, and glances of curiosity, exasperation, and sympathy for those they shared their road with.

Their companion had assumed some of this was normal vault dweller behavior, as many vault dwellers were ill at ease without a roof over their heads, but things fell into place one hot day in the summer. The shoreline was sweltering under the sun, stinking of algae and flotsam, and finally even the sole survivor had had enough. They threw their hood back, unbuckled their gas mask, and emerged the picture of tragic youth: Tired eyes in a full face, blinking in the unfamiliar harshness of the light.

They caught sight of their companion's realization and lifted their chin up. "Don't start," they said.

Cait: "Oh, hell." Cait sucked a breath in through her teeth. "You'd better start explaining some things fast, little chicken."

"No idea what you're talking about, Cait."

They tried to keep walking, but Cait grabbed their shoulder and spun them around. "You waltzed into the Combat Zone all by yourself? Took on my contract, thought you'd just tell a grown woman what to do with her time?"

"I did in all the raiders, didn't I?" The sole survivor shook her off. "And taking on your contract wasn't my idea. Tommy couldn't wait to get rid of you."

"Why, you little..." Cait balled her hands into fists. "Don't make this about me. You think you're a big shot, walking around the Commonwealth like you own the place? I'm taking you back to Goodneighbor, and then you and I are through."

"And you'll go back to the Combat Zone? Please." The sole survivor put their hands on their hips. "You'll get bored, and then you'll come looking for me again. I guarantee it."

Codsworth: Codsworth tapped his claw and flamer arms together anxiously. "Are you sure it's safe? I know this beach looks deserted, but you never know just who might turn up."

"Relax, Codsworth," the sole survivor replied. "I'll put it back on if we see anyone. It's just too hot to keep it on for the whole day."

"I shall keep an eye out." Codsworth rotated two of his eye stalks around to cover all directions. "Do you recognize this beach? I believe we visited it before the bombs fell, once or twice."

"It's changed." The sole survivor stooped down to pick up an empty mussel shell. "More junk, obviously, but it's wilder than it used to be. Like the ocean's reclaiming it. I wonder if anything valuable ever washes up."

"Perhaps we can ask Sturges to build you a metal detector," Codsworth suggested.

"Maybe." The sole survivor smiled at the bot. "Or maybe he can show me how to build one, myself."

"A fine idea."

Curie: Curie gasped. "Quoi!? You never said you were so young."

"On purpose," the sole survivor grumbled.

"This is nothing to conceal." Curie took their face in their hands. "I... I suppose I can understand why you have done this, but you shouldn't hide such things from me. I thought we took care of each other."

"We do!" The sole survivor gently pried themselves away. "That wasn't what I was worried might change. It was the how of it. People... people get protective of me, and they don't need to be."

"Mon chou." Curie smiled down at them. "Of course they are. You are still small, and in this world, this is a rare thing."

"Well, that doesn't matter." The sole survivor unshouldered their pack and sank down to sit in the sand. "Everything that happened to me in the vault still happened."

Curie sat down next to them. "Yes. Je suis - I am sorry. What you have been through is too much."

Paladin Danse: "How-" Danse shook his head. "You... impossible."

"No, it's really me." The sole survivor sighed. "Here we go."

Danse started in. "Why didn't you disclose this at our first encounter? Why were you drawn into a fight with ferals in the first place? How did you manage to conceal this from Scribe Haylen, when she checked you over?"

"I didn't know who you were, I was hoping to get some supplies out of the ordeal, and I told her I had stunted growth thanks to being frozen and malnourished," the sole survivor counted off on their fingers. "What else?"

Danse's eyes blazed. "Was any of it true? The vault, the Minutemen, your search for the Institute?"

"Yep, all of that's true." They met his gaze and frowned. "Unfortunately."

The Paladin's anger and suspicion abated somewhat. "I... that's... my apologies. I thought you and I had an understanding, when it came to being forthcoming. I was honest with you."

"You were, and we do." The sole survivor tapped their fingers once more before letting their hands fall to their sides. "I thought you might refuse to talk to me again, if you ever found out. So I didn't say anything."

The answer caught Danse by surprise, and he chuckled. "Why would you ever think that, soldier?"

Deacon: Deacon shut his gaping mouth and pressed his lips together tightly.

"That's right," the sole survivor said, their voice smug.

They continued down the beach a ways together, and pretty soon Deacon's silence began to bother the sole survivor. They kept glancing over at him, like they expected him to start spouting his opinions at any second. Finally, they drew up short by a rickety dock and got directly in his way. "Say something," they demanded.

"There is literally nothing I can say that will top you revealing yourself as a teenager," Deacon replied. "Seriously, my hat's off to you. I wish I'd thought of that, first."

Dogmeat: Dogmeat gave them a hesitant whine, so the sole survivor stuck their hand out. The German shepherd sniffed it over carefully before deciding they were still the person he had attached himself to at the Red Rocket Station, and he came away with his tongue lolling.

"Good dog," the sole survivor praised. "I know I never take it off, but I think we're safe here. Let's keep going."

Mayor John Hancock: Hancock blinked, and then kept blinking. "Did I get a bad batch?" he muttered, partially to himself. "You look like you're aging backwards."

"I promise I'm aging in the same direction as everyone else," the sole survivor assured him. "And technically I'm 220-some years old, so I've got you beat for sure."

"Oh, that can't be right." Hancock squinted and walked a little circle around them. "You're just a kid. Huh."

"Problem?"

"No. Maybe." Hancock sighed and took his hat off to scratch his head. "We get younger than you out and about on their lonesome in Goodneighbor sometimes, but that doesn't mean the wasteland's a kind place to them. My miscreant half is telling me you'll be fine, but my responsible mayoral half is saying we should go back."

The sole survivor crossed their arms. "And what about your fun half?"

Hancock grinned and plopped his hat on their head. "That half's just impressed. You're a real survivor, kid."

Robert Joseph MacCready: "Oh, I'm gonna start." MacCready tipped his hat back and rubbed his face. "You can't be older than what, 12? 13? What are you doing running around without someone to keep an eye on you?"

"You're here, aren't you?"

"You hired me." MacCready felt around his pockets for his caps. "You hired... how the hell did you scrape together 250 caps?"

"Does it matter? I paid your fee, you're here now." The sole survivor scowled. "The job doesn't change just because I'm younger than you thought I was."

"Yes it does," MacCready argued. "Not only are you a vault dweller, you're a kid who doesn't know what they're doing even without factoring in everything that's trying to kill you on the road. Trust me, I grew up in that life. And don't even get me started about how stubborn kids are in thinking they know everything."

"I know I don't know everything, that's why I hired you!" The sole survivor threw their hands up in exasperation. "It was either keep wandering around alone, or hire someone who knows how this world works. Why are you acting like I'm crazy?"

"You're 13. Every 13-year-old is a little crazy." MacCready pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe this. Hancock and Daisy are never gonna let me live this one down."

Nick Valentine: "Aw, kid." Nick's eyes dimmed slightly, his telltale sign of mournful contemplation. "You're the saddest thing I've ever seen."

"That's a huge compliment coming from you," the sole survivor retorted, smirking halfheartedly. "Gonna try to take me back to the office?"

Nick surveyed the beach. "Eventually, maybe. Right now we're okay. If a mirelurk queen pops up though, you and I are gone."

"Well that's a given." The sole survivor's smile widened a little. "You never realized?"

"You spun me quite the story when you came asking for help," Nick replied. "Masterful misdirection. Now that I think of it though, Ellie mentioned something about how you seemed more naive than the average vault dweller. I really should give her a raise."

"You should." The sole survivor sighed. "Come on. I'll tell you the whole story while we're waiting for that mirelurk queen to notice us, if you want to hear it."

Nick offered them his hand. The sole survivor studied the detective for a moment before taking it. "Well hop to it," the old synth said with a smile. "I'm on tenterhooks."

Piper Wright: "You can't be any older than Nat," Piper breathed. "How did... never mind. We're heading back to Diamond City, now."

"No we are not." The sole survivor planted their feet in the sand. "I have things to do up the coast, and I'm not going back until they're done. You can go if you want, but I won't be going with you."

"Oh yes you will be." Piper seized their wrist and held it up. "I'm already responsible for one preteen, and the only way I get any sleep is if I know she's safe inside the Wall. I don't need your sudden death to mirelurks on my conscience, Blue."

The sole survivor twisted their arm loose and took a few steps back. "So don't let the mirelurks get me."

Piper lunged to grab them, but they darted around her arms and took off down the beach. "Get back here!" the reporter yelled, taking off after them.

Preston Garvey: Preston's eyes had gone as wide as the brim of his hat. "I made you the general," he blurted out.

"You did." The sole survivor shook their head. "I told you not to."

"But you didn't tell me why!" Preston put his hands up, overwhelmed. He turned back and forth on the sand, unsure of where to start. "The Abernathy farm, Tenpines, the Corvega factory... Christ, the deathclaw at the museum... how?!?"

The sole survivor looked just as bewildered as him. "Luck?"

"This can't be happening." Preston ran a hand over his face. "I've got... I've got to tell... wait, does Sturges know? Does anyone - does Mama Murphy know? Because if they knew and didn't tell me, we're gonna have a big problem."

"Breathe," the sole survivor advised him. "Are you mad at me?"

"No - yes - I don't know!" Preston hit the sand with a thump and wracked his brains. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well at first I was scared." The sole survivor sat down next to him. "And then I worried it would send you into a crisis, like the one you're in the middle of. But this had to happen at some point."

Strong: Strong snorted. "Puny human."

"Hey." The sole survivor pointed up at him with a stern look. "I said don't start, and I meant it."

"Tiny!" Strong roared with laughter, holding his belly. "Too little. Need to drink milk."

The sole survivor rolled their eyes. "Yeah, that's what Preston said, too. Good for my bones, or something."

X6-88: "You appear to be of an insufficient age to be traveling the wasteland alone," X6-88 replied.

"But I'm not traveling alone, I'm with you."

"I am a relatively recent addition." X6-88 placed a hand on their shoulder. "Standby for relay."

"No!" The sole survivor ducked out of his grip and stood their ground breathlessly. "You have to do what I tell you to, right? Don't take me back down there. Something's off about that place."

"My mission is to protect you," X6-88 said. "Institute protocol states that children are not permitted to leave the facility until they are of a certain age. You do not appear to meet the requirements, and therefore my mission necessitates our return."

The sole survivor took off running, meandering a bit in the wet sand. X6-88 gave pursuit, easily outpacing them despite the heat. He locked an arm around their waist and ignored their struggling while he tried to call in the relay request again.

"Stop!" the sole survivor shrieked. "I'm not safe down there, X6-88!"

The Courser paused his communication attempt. "Explain."

BONUS!

Ada: "I was just thinking it was a wise decision to cover your face," Ada replied. "Not everyone you meet in the wasteland can be trusted."

"R... right." The sole survivor hung the gas mask from their belt and nodded. "You live and die by first impressions, out here. Especially if you're my age."

"May I ask why you concealed your age from me?" Ada inquired. "We are relatively recent partners, but our mission to find the Mechanist and help the Commonwealth is still the same."

"I don't know. Adults get weird around me." The sole survivor shrugged. "I guess I view you as an adult, thanks to your voice module. How old are you, Ada?"

"That question does not have a simple answer." Ada indicated her frame's various parts. "My components are largely from pre-war robots, but the fastenings and hardware holding me together are varied. I was assembled in my current form about seven years ago, but I have gone through a few upgrades since."

The sole survivor giggled. "So in one way, you're as old as me, maybe even older, but in another, I'm older than you. I like that."

Porter Gage: Gage swallowed his surprise and raised an eyebrow at them. "Didn't say nothing, Overboss."

"But you're thinking it." The sole survivor rounded on him. "I'm small, but I'm dangerous. The gangs all know it. You know it."

"Sure," Gage agreed. Internally, his mind raced. Did any of the gang leaders know? Had Colter known? How the hell was he going to salvage this?

"There it is." The sole survivor shoved their weapon up against his chest. "Second thoughts, Gage?"

"Well can you blame me?" Gage shot back. "Here I am, thinking I've finally got someone with their head on straight who's still scary enough to keep Nuka-World in line, and you're not even tall enough to ride some of the rollercoasters in the park. What do you want me to think, huh?"

The sole survivor pushed him back a step. "I survived the Gauntlet, the Galactic Zone, and the fucking Safari Adventure. Think about that before you start panicking, bloodworm."

Old Longfellow: "Frolicking fog crawlers." Longfellow spat out the drink of water he'd just taken and re-screwed the top on his canteen. "You're just a kid."

"And?" The sole survivor crossed their arms. "I can still out-shoot you, grandpa."

"Cannot. Look, you've got arms skinnier than bloodbug's."

They stuck their tongue out at him. "At least I don't need to be half a bottle deep in bourbon just to get out of bed in the fucking morning."

"You watch your mouth," Longfellow warned them, wagging his finger. "Didn't anyone teach you to respect your elders?"

"Sure, but you need to be respectable, first."

Longfellow roared with laughter and clapped them on the shoulder. "Not bad, kid. Not bad. You're alright. Course, we can't go looking for Shipbreaker until you grow another foot or two. Come on, let's go."

The sole survivor ducked out of his grasp and shook their head. "Uh-uh. You promised me shrimp for dinner, and I'm not going back to Far Harbor without one."

Elder Arthur Maxson: Maxson stared at them, dismay and fury building in his chest. They had deceived him, deceived Paladin Danse, deceived all of the officers and put themselves and his soldiers in harm's way. Brotherhood law dictated that a betrayal of this magnitude warranted punishment. At the very least, a stripping of rank and removal of duties.

The sole survivor stared back at him, defiant. "Well?"

Suddenly, Maxson was looking at himself. A child thrust into an unwanted role, set upon enemy troops and deathclaws and super mutants well before they were ready to do so. He loosened his fists, took a few deep breaths, and wondered if Elder Owyn Lyons or his daughter Sarah had looked at him in the same way.

"At ease," he murmured, taking a step back. "It appears... we have things to discuss, Knight."

Desdemona: Desdemona looked them over with the air of a disappointed manager. "I didn't say anything."

"You're going to." The sole survivor put their hood back up and scowled. "Something about not accepting agents unless they're at least 16."

"At least 17."

"Whatever." The sole survivor dug their boot into the sand and unearthed a piece of driftwood. "What does it matter? We have the same enemies. I'm going after them whether I'm in the Railroad or not."

Desdemona said nothing. She didn't doubt their words - plenty of people sought revenge on the Institute without the Railroad's help - but she couldn't help but recall the laundry list of missions she'd sent them on since they had tracked her down. Raider dens, known synth reconnaissance locations, even a deathclaw nest. Something in her chest clenched tight, and she closed her eyes.

"Tell me the truth," she said, trying to shut out the sound of the ocean surf so she could focus on them. "If you take away the years in cryo, how old are you?"

The answer took a few moments. "I'm 15," the sole survivor insisted. "Almost. In about a month."

Desdemona frowned, then shook her head. "We're going back to HQ. You can make your case to the rest of the agents there."

"Make my-?"

"You're too young to be working with us at all, but you know too much now not to be involved." Desdemona turned away. "I can't make this kind of decision by myself. Let's go."

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 388: Plan B

“During the early days, the resistant cells that were forming had their successes and failures. Mostly failures.”  - Lakshmi Vallurupalli

“Alright, well…this sucks,” the gray man groaned, running a hand through thinning hair. They’d assembled on this early evening as an emergency meeting of Resistance Cell IL-5. “Does it have to be during dinner time?” he heard his wife’s scolding echoing through his head along with his pitiful response: “S-sorry honey w-w-we’ll make it quick.”

He knew the place still reeked of cat pee, even though Ned hadn’t arrived yet. Buzzcut was here, Moustache was here. And, of course, Anderson, who had basically been living in hi- well, his wife’s family’s basement - on the threadbare couch for some time now. Honestly, he was starting to wear out his welcome. 

“Yeah, sorry, it does stink, I really thought it would work,” Anderson lamented. He was standing at the pool table, the center of their makeshift command center. It had been Anderson and Gray Man’s plan to get the lawyers involved. To get their contacts in the court system active. To avoid any unnecessary violence in separating the “primary targets” as Buzzcut liked to call them 

“Sounds to me like them suits crashed and burned,” came Buzzcut, the ex-Coast Guard petty officer with more self-satisfaction in his voice than necessary. “Lawyers,” he grumbled, stroking the firearm at his side, “paper pushers, poindexters.” Buzzcut had been frustrated with the whole process. All this time it took to organize the warrants and writs, and now? “Still SUSFU. Big waste. Total burn bags.”

Anderson bit his tongue. All this guy’s military jargon was getting on his nerves. He knew it annoyed the others, too, except Ned. And of course all the grunts. They ate it up. 

“Where’s Fineman now? The other two?” the gray man inquired, asking about the attorneys.  He stepped over to the big cork board Buzzcut had stuck to the wall. Their makeshift conspiracy board had a number of photos of the players at FHMA  stuck to it with pushpins. Red thread ran between them, designating and labeling relationships. “Shouldn’t we, like, debrief them?” He shivered, looking up at the image of Mellissa  Monroe, the major player. There was something about her…she just... 

“I guess all three of them are home,” Anderson answered, watching the gray man reach out and straighten the picture of the Monroe woman on its thumbtack. “They sound a little freaked out.”

Moustache really hadn’t said much, since he’d arrived. 

“Well, we should get them here, debrief them,”  Buzzcut said, acting as if he’d just come up with the idea himself. “But in the meantime we need to plan our next operation.” Stepping over to the conspiracy board, he motioned to the gray man. “Gimme that ink stick.”

The gray man picked up a red marker, handed it to him. 

“The way I see it,” Buzzcut began, running a hand across his close-shaven pate, “is we need a new approach.”

Thanks Captain Obvious, the gray man thought, shuddering as Buzzcut began to draw red targets across the faces of the women on the conspiracy board. He’d spent time (maybe too much time, truth be told) curating those photos, carefully selecting them from the girls’ instagram feeds (which he, uh, researched vigorously). 

“Wh-what are you thinking?” Anderson asked, unsure if he wanted to know the answer. 

“Well, ‘we’re going to need guns, a lot of guns’,” Buzzcut replied, dropping into his action hero voice and - like he tended to do - misquoting one of his favorite old movies. He continued to draw concentric red circles on the faces of the women.

The gray man shuddered. This was all beginning to get very real. Yes, Buzzcut was ex-military (Coast Guard…) as were a bunch of the grunts. The gray man liked his guns - he had a pretty good collection, now - but he’d never actually used one on another person. He didn’t think any of them had. He watched Buzzcut put an extra pushpin into Melissa Monroe’s photo, right at the center of the target he’d drawn. 

“‘Okay, this chick is gonna be toast!’” Buzzcut laughed, again murdering yet another movie quote. 

The gray man watched Buzzcut as he continued to stare at the photo, somehow managing to ignore her gloriously large breasts and perfect smile as he plotted their next move. “So what’s it going to be? This new plan?”

“I dunno but it’s gonna need a real cool name,” Buzzcut answered, pondering his options. This was it, this was his chance, he thought. He’d always dreamed of a moment like this, preparing to lead a group of his guys into combat. Suddenly he was the leader, and everyone would do what he told them to do. So, yeah, he needed a plan. And a plan name. “We’re going to call it…”

A pause as he turned, putting the cap back on the marker with a dramatic <click>. 

“…Plan B.”

=======================================