#'climbing exercises sir?'

[libraryspectre]

"You're very gay, have you tried doing watercolors about it?"

[opens-up-4-nobody]

The Terror fandom: what screencap moment should I draw?

[coloursofaparadox]

repeatedly chanting 'my dog isnt being a handful to be an asshole. he is just a baby and overwhelmed' to myself on my 4th hour of trying to get him to settle down at the drive in

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Butter

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: None

Summary: What if Joel doesn't forget to buy himself a cake for his birthday? But by the time he remembers, all the bakeries in his neighbourhood are closed - except yours.

Warnings: No outbreak AU, pure fluff, mentions of baking and food, meet cute, some sexual tension but very mild stuff compared to my other fics, single dad!Joel being a sexy menace, reader has a nickname related to her job, reader has an accent similar to Joel, very lightly edited, not my best work, but I'm in my writing for fun era 💁🏻‍♀️

Word count: 3.6k

Notes: It's here! This was an exercise in speed writing, and just putting words to paper without overthinking anything. I really enjoyed writing this sweet little piece, this is dedicated to @psychedelic-ink who has been the biggest cheerleader for this idea since day one. Happy birthday to our favourite single dad who never lived through a cordyceps outbreak ❤️

September 26, 2003 was supposed to be a good day.

It’s Friday, after all. Not that the weekend is relevant to you anymore, with Saturdays and Sundays being the busiest days for business. But you have a date for once tonight, and you’re determined to enjoy it.

If you can get the goddamn security shutter to close, that is.

Standing on your tiptoes, you pull futilely at the bottom of the metal shutter with both hands, but it refuses to budge. You lament the sweat seeping through the fabric of the nice dress you changed into, the hem reaching almost indecent heights on the back of your thighs where it’s climbed up. And you don’t have to look at your reflection to know that stress has already smudged the edges of the eyeliner you hurriedly painted on as soon as you got the last customer out the door.

You can be forgiven for not noticing the wash of yellow headlights over the windows of the shop front and the sound of rolling tyres as a truck pulls up on the curb outside the bakery, until a gravelly voice pipes up behind you alongside hurried footsteps.

‘Ma’am, please tell me you’re still open.’

You tap on the ‘Closed’ sign through the window without turning around, determined to wrangle the shutter into submission. ‘Bad luck buddy, come back tomorrow. We open at nine sharp.’

‘No I can’t, I’m so sorry, but I need a cake now.’

Curiosity turns your head, and over your shoulder, you find a broad-shouldered man in a dark tshirt and casual jeans standing a respectful four paces away. Under eyebrows sloping downwards in a pleading angle that matches the slant of his moustache, his warm and imploring eyes are on you.

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I really need to go,’ you say. ‘Can you give me a hand?’

‘Look, I’ll do you one better. I’ll fix the shutter for you for free - if you sell me a cake.’

You purse your lips, the prospect of saving on what looks like an inevitable repair bill tempting. ‘You can fix it?’

‘I’m a contractor,’ he replies, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a battered looking wallet. ‘Here’s my card, if you think I’m bluffin’.’

Miller & Associates is printed in bold across the top, and underneath, is presumably his name and cell number. Glancing up at him, you say, ‘Look, Mr. Miller, I really want to help, but I’m late for a date, and I’m all sold out of cakes today -’

‘I’ll take anything you got. Cupcakes, cookies, whatever you have left,’ he cuts in, then apologises in quick succession, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I’m sorry to be so pushy - I’m not, usually - but I promised my daughter I’d bring something home, and by the time I remembered, this is the only place I could think of. Please.’

You feel the exact moment your resolve crack, and then fold like a goddamn lawn chair. What can you say, this contractor really knows how to work those puppy eyes, and you can never say no to a man who refuses to let their kid down. 

Especially when the man looks like this.

Shooting off a text to your date to push back your dinner plans, you nod towards the door. ‘Alright. C’mon in, Mr. Miller.’

‘Nice place you got here,’ he remarks politely, hovering by the entrance as the fluorescent lights flicker on, his manners impeccably southern. 

‘You don’t have to flatter me, I’ve already let you in,’ you joke, lips quirking at the way he flusters. ‘But I appreciate it. You been here before?’

When he smiles, you notice the corners of his eyes crinkle charmingly. ‘No, but I know I’ll be comin’ back.’

‘I wasn’t lying when I said I was out of ready-made cakes,’ you tell him, holding the door open to the kitchen so he can come in after you. ‘But I have some cake layers in the fridge so I can put together something fairly quickly.’

He ducks his head in a manner that tells you he’s not used to demanding things, and protests, ‘I don’t want to put you out. I meant it, if you just have some cupcakes or somethin’ -’

‘Listen, you promised your daughter a cake, didn’t you?’ you interrupt.

He shrugs. ‘Well, yeah I did -’

‘I’m guessin’ it’s for a birthday?’

He nods sheepishly. ‘It is.’

‘Well, as a baker, ‘mfraid I can’t let a cakeless birthday happen on my watch, Mr. Miller,’ you insist, opening the fridge door with a flourish. ‘Let’s see what we have here. Cake for three, I assume?’

‘Two, actually.’

Hopefully you’re as discreet as you think you are when your eyes drop to his left hand - his fourth finger is conspicuously ringless.

Interesting.

You hum, considering the mismatched options in your inventory. ‘It’s gonna be a bit of a Frankenstein’s monster of a cake, if you don’t mind. How does chocolate and vanilla layers with cookies and cream frosting sound?’

‘Sounds perfect,’ he answers without skipping a beat. ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

You shake your head, hands full of cake rounds wrapped in cling film as you nudge the fridge close. ‘Please, call me Bri, Mr. Miller.’

‘And you can call me Joel,’ he says in return. ‘Is Bri short for somethin’?’

Laying the cakes on the work surface, you reply, ‘Yeah, Bri for brioche, like the bread. It's a silly nickname.’

The single dad surprises you with a low whistle. ‘Can’t say I saw that comin’.’

You grin. ‘You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Joel.’

You don’t often have an audience while baking, and you find yourself talking Joel through the steps while you prep everything for assembly.

Swirling a spatula through the tub of buttercream you made earlier that day, you explain, ‘I just need to whip up some of this frosting so that it’s nice and soft for putting the cake together. You wanna help me break up some Oreos so we can make it cookies and cream?’

‘I’m all yours, chef,’ he says, one corner of his mouth curling into a teasing smile that has no business warming the apples of your cheek as it does. ‘Just tell me what to do.’

While your Kitchenaid whirrs to life, whipping air into the buttercream, Joel wields a rolling pin, smashing a generous helping of Oreos into crumbs in a Ziplock bag. The almost exaggerated care with which he moves speaks to inexperience in the kitchen, and you muse that either his kid makes up for it in that department, or they live off takeout.

Eventually, he picks up the bag and looks at you in a question. ‘I think I’m done?’

You smile and tap the lip of the mixing bowl. ‘That’s perfect. Why don’t you tip in the crumbs straight in here?’

Before you can step back to allow him space, Joel’s taken two strides towards you, and his arm brushes your shoulder when he lifts the bag and tilts the contents into the frosting. He’s warm and solid, and damnit, he smells good - like sawdust and sweat.

The thought comes to you unbidden - what a man.

There’s a lull, and only when you feel the weight of eyes on you do you realise that you missed his question.

‘Did you say somethin'?’ you squeak, embarrassed.

‘I said, is this ok?’ he repeats, nodding at the mixing bowl.

You nearly stumble over your words. ‘Yes, yes it’s perfect.’

He watches you closely, a touch of concern in his brown eyes. ‘You ok there, honey?’

‘Yup,’ you chirp, far too cheerfully. ‘Just need to mix it all up now -’

If you had your wits about you, you would stir in the crumbs first and set the machine on low. But this man somehow stole said wits by sheer proximity to you, and you accidentally start the Kitchenaid on high, an indignant yelp escaping you when Oreo dust flies aggressively out of the bowl along with a splatter of white buttercream that lands squarely on the front of your dark knit dress.

‘Oh shit!’ you cry out, frantically turning off the mixer. ‘Shit shit shit!’

Over your panicked mantra, Joel is calmness itself. ‘Hang on, honey, I gotcha.’

He makes a beeline towards the sink, grabbing a tea towel and wets it under the tap with a bit of dishwashing liquid. It all screams competent single dad, and you find yourself staring at his unfairly large hand, mapped with thick veins, holding out the damp towel for you to take.

‘Thanks,’ you stutter self-consciously, the tips of your ears hot while swiping at the stain. ‘That was a rookie mistake. I promise I’m actually a good baker.’

He gives you a wink to put you at ease. ‘Don’t worry, I believe you.’

Starting over, the mixer hums as it gently incorporates the Oreos until the buttercream is a speckled grey and doubled in volume. ‘Looks like it’s ready. You wanna taste, Joel?’

‘Sure,’ he says. ‘D’ya have a spoon or somethin’ for me?’

‘You can use your fingers,’ you reply, and it's too late to take it back.

You feel the back of your neck heating up when he shoots you a meaningful look, just a touch of mischief in the tilt of his lips. 

‘Can I, now?’ he teases.

You try a nonchalant shrug that probably comes off as painfully awkward. ‘This batch is just for you, I won’t tell the health inspector if you don’t.’

Joel chuckles, his strong shoulders quaking. And so you watch, shamelessly, as he raises his right hand, index and middle fingers at the ready, before diving into the metal bowl, scooping up a generous dollop of buttercream. There’s a peek of his pink tongue when his plush lips part, and then he sucks his fingers into his mouth with a gratuitously loud moan, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

When he turns to you with a pained expression on his face, maintaining eye contact all the while licking an errant streak of frosting off the side of his middle finger, you gape at him for a whole five seconds before you manage to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

‘Good?’ you barely manage to squeak.

‘You betcha, honey,’ he declares, then adds, ‘Mind if I double dip?’

He doesn’t mean anything by it, you know it, but a hot flush runs through your body and you swallow thickly. ‘You can do whatever you want, cowboy.’

You don’t think you’re imagining the wicked glint in his answering stare - you’re getting yourself into trouble, and don’t you know it. 

Clearing your throat, you attempt to thwart your mind's dangerous descent into the gutter by changing the subject. ‘So, I can do somethin’ really snazzy that I think your daughter would like - do you know what a piñata cake is?’

He shakes his head. ‘Sounds dangerous.’

‘Hardly,’ you chuckle. ‘It’s a cake filled with sprinkles, so when you cut into it, it’s a sprinkles surprise!’

He lets out a playful sigh of relief. ‘As long as there’s no whackin’ involved, it’s good by me.’

You gesture at him to follow you across the room. ‘And here’s the fun part - you get to choose the sprinkles.’

Joel whistles at the reveal of your compulsively organised sprinkles cabinet, each shelf sorted by colour, shape and size. He quips, ‘Is this what the inside of your brain looks like, honey?’

You grin. ‘Pretty much. What’s your daughter’s name?’

‘Sarah.’

‘What colour does Sarah like?’

‘Any and all shades of pink.’

‘I can work with that.’

Now that everything is ready and waiting on the work surface, you pull out a lazy Susan and plonk a cake board on top of it, dusting your hands dramatically. ‘Alright, Joel. Ready for the magic to happen?’

Making himself comfortable next to you, he leans on his elbows, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the way his tshirt stretches and strains over his back. ‘Go ahead, I’m ready to be impressed, honey.’

Filling a piping bag full of the cookies and cream buttercream, you ask, ‘You wanna get your hands dirty?’

He raises his palms in surrender. ‘I’ll leave it to you, I don’t want to make you any more late for your date.’

You’re used to working with much bigger cakes, so this one doesn’t take you long. With a cookie cutter, you carve out a small circle from each cake round, then you stack and fill the layers with buttercream. After loading the shaft in the middle with all manner of pink sprinkles, you stopper the top with the cake cut-outs.

‘How old is Sarah turning today?’ you ask conversationally while you spin the cake around, smoothing on the crumb coat.

Joel looks up, surprised. ‘Oh, it’s my birthday today, not hers. ‘

‘Wait, what?’ you cry, throwing your hands up. ‘I made this cake with Sarah in mind - it will literally be vomiting pink sprinkles!’

‘I’m a girl dad. I like pink,’ shrugs Joel easily.

You huff, using an icing smoother to make sure the buttercream is even all over the cake. ‘I would pop the cake into the freezer to firm up before adding a final layer of frosting if I had the time, but this will have to do.’

‘It looks great,’ Joel assures you as you put the finishing touches to the cake, with buttercream swirls all around the top and a final baptism of sprinkles.

‘There, all done. Lemme box it up for you and this bad boy is ready to go.’

‘Amazin’, thank you so much,’ he grins. ‘Please, lemme do the washin’ up while you’re at it.’

‘Oh, Joel, you can’t,’ you protest, but he’s already grabbed the mixing bowl and all the bits and bobs stained with buttercream. ‘You’re the birthday boy!’

‘Least I can do,’ he shoots back over his shoulder, already halfway to the sink.

‘Well no, you promised to fix the security shutter for me, remember?’ you call after him.

‘Damn, I was hopin’ you’d forgotten about that.’

Joel cleans up with a practised air, humming under his breath as he waits for the water to heat up and the soap to lather. You watch him from the corner of your eye while you secure the cake inside the box, throwing in a birthday candle for good measure. You’ve just tied a nice ribbon around the cardboard box when he puts away everything in the drying rack and wipes his hands dry.

‘Didn’t expect you to be good at that,’ you tease, moving towards the door.

‘Sexist much?’ he jokes, no real bite in his retort. Then by way of explanation, he tells you, ‘I work late, so Sarah usually cooks and I wash up afterwards.’

‘Sounds like you guys make a good team.’

Joel helps with the lights and locks the door, and you stand to one side when he grabs the security shutter and forces it into submission by brute force. You can’t help but stare when the bottom of his tshirt rides up, revealing a soft sliver of belly underneath, his biceps bulging and back rippling as the shutter is finally forced shut in a metallic ripple.

You give him a smile. ‘Well, happy birthday, Joel.’

‘Thanks again for the cake.’ He looks around, as if looking for your car, but the sidewalk is empty except for his truck. ‘How are you gettin’ to your date?’

‘I was just gonna call a taxi.’

‘No, you ain’t,’ he nods towards his ride. ‘C’mon, I’ll give you a lift.’

‘Oh, no, it’s late, and you should be getting back to Sarah -’

‘I spoiled your date, so please, let me,’ he insists, holding the door open on the passenger side. Hop in.’

Joel takes the cake off your hands and puts it in the backseat carefully, putting the seat belt over it while you climb in. Glancing over your shoulder, you see toolboxes and newspapers on the floor, and it smells like paint and wood dust.

‘Sorry it’s a bit messy, occupational hazard,’ he apologises as he straps himself in. ‘So, where are we goin’?’

‘Do you know the steakhouse on Third Street?’

‘Vaguely,’ he replies, pulling smoothly away from the curb. ‘It sounds fancy.’

‘You been?’

‘Nope, I barely have time to go anywhere nowadays. It seems like I’m only ever in bed, or at work, or in my truck.’

You turn to smile at him, admiring the way his his thick fingers around the top of the steering wheel, making it look so small. ‘I feel you. Small business owner, am I right?’

‘I hear ya,’ he shoots you a smile. ‘So - what’s the deal with tonight? First date?’

‘Fourth, actually.’

He wriggles his eyebrows suggestively. ‘Fourth date? You know what happens on a fourth date, honey.’

‘I don’t, actually. Tell me, what happens on a fourth date?’

He blows out his cheeks, and admits, ‘Honestly, I can’t tell ya. I haven’t been on a fourth date since 1991.’

You burst into laughter at his unexpected answer. ‘You’re such a dork, Joel Miller.’

When the truck rumbles to a stop outside the steakhouse ten minutes later, he looks at his watch and announces, ‘Here we are, only fifteen minutes late.’ Squinting through the windshield, he points at a man smoking outside, an impatient frown on his face. ‘That him?’

‘Yeah, that’s him,’ you nod, but you stay put in your seat, in no hurry to make a move.

Joel nods, tapping his tidily trimmed nails on the steering wheel. ‘So I’ll swing ‘round tomorrow after work with my toolbelt? ‘Round six thirty?’

‘A toolbelt? What a sight to look forward to,’ you rib, slowly reaching for the seatbelt and unbuckling it.

‘Hell yeah, it’s got a special clip for my Nokia and all,’ he adds mischievously.

'You must fend off the ladies by the dozen,' you tease.

'Daily,' he answers without skipping a beat.

You probably shouldn’t have, especially not with the guy who you’re supposed to be on a date with glaring daggers at you through the windshield. But there’s something cackling in the air between you and this man you just met not an hour ago, and the way the streetlight filters through the window, backlighting his messy curls and scraggly beard, that has you throwing caution to the proverbial wind.

Impulsively, you lean across the gear shift, your left hand finding purchase on his knee before pressing your lips to the side of his whiskered jaw, your kiss fitting right into that little heart-shaped patch on his beard. 

You’re not sure who’s more taken aback, but you don’t have time to find out. 

‘Happy birthday, Joel Miller.’

He smiles after you as you hop out of his truck.

You’ve just sold your last cupcake of the day when the bell over the bakery door rings. And sure enough, it’s Joel Miller crossing the threshold, right on the dot at six thirty.

‘Hey, Bri,’ he waves, hovering half-in and half-out of the shop, a slight awkwardness having set in overnight.

But it's ok, you're happy to pick up where you left off. Putting your hands on your waist and a cheeky grin, you quip, ‘Wow, you weren’t kidding about that toolbelt, huh?’

Your chest swells as you watch him thaw with an easy smile, and he banters back, ‘I’m a man of my word, honey. You ok with me gettin’ to work now?’

‘Yes, thank you. I’ll be cleanin’ up back in the kitchen, I’ll join you when I’m done.’

Joel shoots you a thumbs up. ‘Great. I’ll grab the ladder and get right to it.’

When you emerge fifteen minutes later, he’s on the fourth rung of the ladder, tinkering the rolling mechanism with a screwdriver and a studious frown on his brow. He looks like he’s wearing the same thing as yesterday - you can believe that he’s a man who buys the same tshirt in bulk - and he smiles at you when you duck out of the shop.

‘Did Sarah like the cake?’ you ask in casual conversation.

‘She went nuts over the piñata surprise,’ he replies. ‘And the cake was delicious, there were hardly any crumbs left when we were done with it. She says we’re definitely ordering a cake from you for her birthday.’

‘I like the sound of that.’

‘How was your evening?’ he asks, glancing down at you from his perch. ‘Did you find out what happens on a fourth date?’

You let out a dry laugh. ‘Yeah, I did, actually. He dumped me.’

Joel freezes, a scowl darkening his countenance. ‘Oh shit, what? Why?’

You shrug, leaning your weight on the ladder as you look at the ground. ‘I mean, I did show up an hour late in some other guy’s truck. And I guess probably shouldn’t have kissed you on the cheek right in front of him.’

You startle when Joel’s fingers slip under your chin, tilting your head up towards him. ‘It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.’

‘Honestly, you don’t look that sorry, Joel Miller,’ you joke.

He cocks his head to one side. ‘Well, I can't lie, I think you deserve better than him.’

‘Do you now?’ you prompt. ‘Who do you have in mind?’

Joel peers at you from under long lashes with a half-smile that's almost shy. He dodges your question, and says instead, ‘I didn't mean to ruin your night, let me make it up to you, honey.’

‘How?’

Deftly, he climbs down the ladder, landing squarely on two booted feet, his presence comforting as he looms over you, his eyes warm. ‘Can I buy you dinner?’

‘Like - a date kind of dinner?’

‘Yeah, like a date,’ he nods.

You can’t help the dig. ‘And you were just sayin' you haven’t been on a date since...?’

He flashes you a smirk, and you shiver when his hand brushes your waist. ‘Since 1991. Tough sell, I know - but I thought I’d give it a shot.’

Running a finger along his sharp jawline, softened by the endearingly untidy beard, you have to bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from giving away too wide a grin. ‘Why, I think I have a good feelin’ about you, Joel Miller.’

Catching your wrist in his fingers, he presses a sweet kiss to your knuckles, the rough graze of his stubble chasing goosebumps across your skin as his eyes smile at you. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then, honey.’

More notes: I hope you enjoyed this sweet little oneshot 🥰 I really leaned into the fluff and I have no regrets. Comments/reblogs/asks are much appreciated as always! I don't have plans for a second part right now, but a smutty follow-up is always a possibility...

The adorable dividers are by @firefly-graphics 👩🏻‍🍳

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drabble Roulette: August Walker + Face Sitting

Hey hey! This weekend (July 6 -7) I’m going to be playing drabble roulette! I’ve curated a list of characters, tropes, AUs, and kinks and I’m spinning the wheel! Hopefully I can do this once a month as a little writing exercise.

Character: August Walker

Warnings: this drabble includes allusions to violence/abuse and dubcon sexual acts. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Explicit, 18+. Please reblog and leave some feedback.

You put one foot down at a time. Lightly. You’ve honed the skill well. How not to make a noise. 

The large form strewn across your bed puffs like a chimney. His heat radiates in the small space of your bachelor flat. An afterglow of sweat and sex permeates the air. Each time he comes, his scent lingers, it never really goes, just like him. 

You move with the ebb and flow of his rocky snores. You tidy away the shot tumbler he used to down the bottle of scotch he brought with him. What’s left of that you tuck away in the cupboard for his next visit. There will be one. There always is. You never know when, but he comes. 

August’s nasally storm fills the tiny apartment as you gather his clothes from the floor. His pants are wrinkled from his carelessness. The last time you didn’t have an iron for the creases. You hope the one you bought down at the thrift store will do. 

You take out the tall ironing board you got with the old thing. It squeaks as you unfold it. You cringe and look at the bed. He quiets but his breaths remain even keeled. You finish opening the legs and lock them in place. 

His groan rumbles like a storm. You look at him and freeze. His burly body takes up much of bed. You got up to keep from teetering on the edge. He’s unbothered as his feet poke over the edge, his ass bare as the blankets tangle beneath him. 

“What’re you doin’?” He snarls without opening his eyes. 

“Sir, I--” You gulp. 

“I didn’t tell you to get out of bed,” he growls and pushes off the mattress, rolling onto his back. His weight strains the metal frame worryingly. “So why the hell are you scurrying around making all that noise?” 

“Sorry, I... I was going to press our pants, sir--” 

“You can do that later. I'm not ready to leave,” his eyes remain closed as he covers them with his thick fingers. “Here.” 

He snaps with his other hand and you skirt around the board. You go to the mattress and climb up on your knees. He tugs on the tee shirt hanging around you. You look down and frown. 

“Did I say you could get dressed?” 

“No, sir,” you swiftly swoop the shirt over your head, the only cover between you and nudity. “Sorry--” 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he drags his hand from his face and slaps your thigh, “if you’re gonna wake me up, at least make it a happy awakening.” 

“Sir,” you lean forward on a hand and reach for him. He swats you away, his lashes flicking back to show his deep blue irises. 

“You know better. Wait. Listen,” he shows his palm and you cower, “up, on your knees.” 

You raise yourself obediently. He watches you with a dimple in his cheek. He brings his finger across his dark mustache. 

“Get up here,” he runs his hands across his chest, “how long since I tasted it?” 

You don’t hesitate. You can’t. You sense his patience waning. 

You bring yourself up over him, kneeling with your legs on either side of his head as he hooks his hands around your thighs. His breath puffs between your thighs. You squirm and put your hands son his to keep from collapsing completely. 

He pulls you down gruffly. You squeal as urges your cunt to his mouth. He delves in without shame. The brush of his mustache tickles and adds to the sensations. You’re still swollen and squirmy from the night before. He growls and wiggles his head, lapping at you eagerly. 

His nails cut into your skin as your thighs clench. You clasp onto his fingers and rock your hips with a whine. As much as you fear him, as much as he hurts you, he still makes you feel splendid. 

[copperphysics106]

The Terror OST

So... unfortunately, I don't have permission to post my terror soundtrack video. It bummed me out because I've been working on this for a month now, but I probably should've checked that beforehand, right? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Ah well.

Regardless, I spent all that time finding where tracks play, with help from the Cold Boys Fandom Club website and some people on Tumblr (💗) so I might as well just post that here now so if anyone is still searching where each track plays, this is everything I could find and match up.

Last Morning Watch VI.: Plays during Terror and Erebus introductions.

Last Morning Watch V.: Crozier focuses on the sun dogs.

Last Draughts, Last Best Efforts IX.: Crozier examines maps in his quarters, before the theater flashback.

LM-118: Diving scene intercut with Young's autopsy. (Library Music)

Last Morning Watch IV.: Young is buried and Sir John gives his eulogy. This song also plays in Episode 10, when Hickey and Crozier discuss why he was kidnapped.

Last Draughts, Last Best Efforts XIII.: Sir John wakes up to the ships being icelocked.

Last Draughts, Last Best Efforts VIII.: Graham Gore's lead party climbs up the ice ridge. Irving meets with and trades with Koveyook.

Birth of Liquid Plejades: Gore's lead party write in the victory point note. (Zeit)

Liquid Fire: Silna's father is shot and Gore is killed. (Schattenspieler)

Goetia: Sir John's eulogy, delivered by Crozier.

Gambuh I: Lady Jane speaks to the Admiralty.

Untitled 090616: Hickey finds tobacco in his hammock. (Schattenspieler)

Last Morning Watch II.: Edward goes to retrieve Silna from Erebus.

Last Fixed Position XVI.: Blanky is chased by the Tuunbaq.

Last Fixed Position XVII.: Silna eats a seal.

Last Heat, Last Exertions XXI.: Blanky describes what happened at Fury Beach to Fitzjames.

Last Heat, Last Exertions XXIII.: Crozier speaks to the crew about walking out while Stanley preps his plan.

Planchette: Stanley lights himself on fire at Carnivale. Also plays when Hickey offers his tongue to Tuunbaq. (Exercises in Estrangement)

Tenebrous: Hickey stabs Irving. (Schattenspieler)

Last Heat, Last Exertions XX.: Irving's autopsy, Hodgson is questioned.

Last Heat, Last Exertions XXII.: Tuunbaq attacks Terror Camp.

Brohm Ridge: Hodgson recounts a perfect moment to Goodsir. (coast / range / arc//)

Last Morning Watch VII.: Blanky finds the Northwest Passage.

Last Draughts, Last Best Efforts X. (andantino): Plays multiple times in the show. Goodsir talks to Collins about Carnivale; Collins notices the Peruvian as Bridgens diagnoses Peglar; Bridgens lays down to die.

The Eroding (Fairytale Music 3): Goodsir's suicide. (Air Texture II)

Last Heat, Last Exertions XXIV.: Tuunbaq's death.

Polar Sirens: Crozier and Silna search the remainders of Crozier's men. (Erebus & Terror)

The Gates of Paradise - I & II: The ending, with Crozier sitting by the seal hole. (The Gates of Paradise)

Albums/Links:

The Last Sunset of the Year / Schattenspieler / Exercises in Estrangement / The Word as Power / Library Music / Air Texture II / Erebus & Terror / The Gates of Paradise / coast / range / arc// / Zeit

This list isn't everything, as there are definitively some songs missing; notably, off the top of my head: the main title theme, the song that plays during Sir John's death, and the song that plays after Collins has taken the Peruvian, etc.

A lot of songs repeat in the show, I listed scenes they appeared in or are easiest to remember.

I swear that I saw the latter song on YouTube at one point but it's seemingly been taken down and I can't remember what it's called anymore, unfortunately. There's also a lot of ambient tracks that I simply can't find and aren't present on the album, sadly; a lot of tracks were used in the show that aren't on the internet it seems, or if they are, buried REAL deep lol. So unless the list is released officially, I don't really have a way to get ahold of the tracks that play in some of these scenes:

Orren's death (Ep1)

The lead parties set off (Ep2)

Gore's party find the overturned boat (Ep2)

The men play soccer (Ep2)

Collins' soul consumed (Ep8)

Hickey sighting the Tuunbaq through spyglass (Ep10)

Of course, if you've recognized any tracks yourself, let me know and I'll add it to the list!

[switchypanic]

One Last Trust Exercise || A 'Hazbin Hotel' Tickle Fic

Summary: The night before The Extermination, the hotel crew decides to play a game of truth or dare. After all, what do they have to lose? They'll probably all be dead the next day anyways. However, a few interesting secrets come to light, and the evening takes a surprising turn.

Content Warnings: Canon-typical language and MINOR spoilers for the beginning of episode eight.

Word Count: 2,475 words.

Nobody was excited for what tomorrow would bring. The threat of imminent, painful failure loomed over their heads, unable to be masked by alcoholic beverages or (attempts at) rousing speeches. For them to survive, it was going to take a miracle, and Heaven had not been too keen on giving those out up to that point. However, there was a small bright side to the situation, as hard as it is to believe.

With little left to lose, the hotel staff were oddly relaxed with each other, showing the most affection and open comradery towards one another that Charlie had ever seen from the group. Husk and Angel were sharing drinks and snickering softly to each other at the bar, the former overlord absentmindedly cleaning a few shot glasses as the spider demon watched, barely muffling snickers behind one of his many hands. Whatever the two were joking about was lost on the princess, not that she minded in the slightest.

Nifty was rambling to Cherri Bomb about her newest creation, a morbid adaptation of 'Romeo and Juliet' which utilized the many roaches she had exterminated as puppets, garnering looks of concern and feigned smiles of encouragement from her captive audience. From a few meters away, Alastor listened in silently, his ever present smile somehow even wider than usual, betraying his clear amusement at the situation before him.

And then there was Vaggie, mumbling quiet words of encouragement to Sir Pentious in the far corner of the room, away from any prying ears. The snake demon fiddled with his hat, eyes flickering over to Cherri Bomb, causing his hood to flare open for a moment before he forced it back down with his hands. Charlie couldn't help but giggle; Vaggie wasn't the best at flirting herself, yet she was still trying her best to be a good wingman. If Charlie had thought she couldn't possibly be any more in love with the woman, she was being proven wrong yet again.

Charlie felt a pang of anxious sadness in her heart, knowing that all of the progress they had made could be undone in a single instant tomorrow morning. A single pierce from an exorcist's blade could mean the end, the final end, for any one of them. It could mean the sudden and cruel end of everything they had been working so hard to achieve.

The princess wrung her hands, blinking back tears as she attempted to calm herself down. Getting all worked up in front of everyone wouldn't help matters. No, she needed to do something to get her mind off of tomorrow. Scouring her mind for any ideas, one suddenly came to her, and her usual smile returned in a flash.

Clearing her throat, Charlie climbed atop of the nearby coffee table, careful not to accidentally knock over one of the many whisky glasses left strewn about. "Um, excuse me everyone! Can I have your attempt for a moment?" She yelled.

The various conversations paused, heads turning expectantly towards her.

"I had an idea for one final trust exercise for us to do before tomorrow; truth or dare! Anyone who wants to play is welcome to, but it's totally not mandatory!" Charlie announced. "Like I said, spend tonight however you guys want! I just thought it might be fun for us to-"

"Sounds fun to me!" Angel Dust interrupted, a playful smirk plastered to his face as he got to his feet. "Haven't played that since before I bit the bullet back on Earth. What do you say, Husk? You in too?" The actor asked, glancing over his shoulder at the cat demon.

Husk hummed, seemingly thinking it over. "Aah, what the hell? Why not? Not like I've got much else to do tonight." The bartender replied, shrugging.

Charlie turned her attempt to Nifty, who was bouncing on her toes with excitement. "Oh, I love that game! I love that game!" The short sinner squealed.

Cherri Bomb couldn't help but snort with laughter. "Fuck yeah, I'm in too! Last time I played that, I got to spend ten minutes in a closet with some super hot hellhound!"

From across the room, Charlie noticed Pentious' face go bright red. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with such a game...but I would be willing to learn!" The snake demon pipped in. "This...Truth Or Dare, as you called it, does sound quite intriguing. How about you, Vagatha? Shall you be joining in as well?"

Vaggie rolled her eyes. "NOT my name, dude. We've been over this. But...yeah, why not?" The former Exorcist shot her girlfriend a gentle smile, and Charlie felt like her heart was going to beat right out of her chest.

Now, it seemed the only one left to answer was...

Charlie turned her attention to Alastor. The overlord hadn't moved from his previous position, though his expression had changed ever so slightly, bearing an emotion that Charlie couldn't quite discern. "Al? What about you?" The princess asked, offering an encouraging smile. "You want to play? No pressure, of course!" She half expected him to say no. Alastor was a private man, and while he often enjoyed messing with others, he didn't seem the type to play a game which could leave him vulnerable in some capacity.

However, to her surprise, the radio host let out a small laugh and quickly strode over to her. "Why not? I'm afraid I'm also unfamiliar with such a game, though I have been told I'm a fast learner!" Alastor replied.

Charlie squealed with excitement, jumping off of the table and ushering everyone forwards. "Great! Alright, everybody get into a circle on the floor!" She instructed, plopping down on the carpet with a soft thud. Vaggie took the seat to her right, as expected, and Nifty to her left. Alastor positioned himself between Nifty and Sir Pentious, the later of which had strategically made sure to claim a seat next to Cherri. Finally, Angel and Husk finished out the circle (were Charlie's eyes deceiving her, or was Husk ever so slightly wrapping a wing around the actor).

The princess clapped her hands with excitement. "Okay, since some of you haven't played before, I'll explain the rules! When the game starts, I'll ask one of you to pick truth or dare. If you pick truth, you have to answer whatever question I ask honestly. If you pick dare, you have to do whatever I dare you to. Once you've done either of those things, it's your turn to ask somebody else!"

Sir Pentious raised a hand. "ANYTHING you ask or dare? What if you wanted me to sign over my soul?" He asked, shooting a distrusting look at Alastor.

Charlie hummed, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "Good point! I guess it would be a good idea to put some rules in place, just for safe keeping. If there is a truth or dare you really aren't comfortable with doing, use the safeword...apple!"

"And how do we know if somebody is telling the truth?" The snake demon continued, head cocked to the side with curiousity.

"That's the thing, we're working on the honor system! It's up to you guys to stay truthful with us. Remember all of our previous exercises; you can trust everyone here!"

Husk snorted. "Suuure..." He grumbled, also shooting Alastor a nasty look. If the deer demon was bothered by the group's apparent distrust in him, he didn't show it.

"Alright, I'll go first! Hm....Vaggie, truth or dare?" Charlie asked, beaming from ear to ear as she turned towards her girlfriend. The former Exorcist chuckled, shaking her head.

"Truth."

"Okay then, what's your favorite food?" Angel could be heard snickering from across the circle; of course Charlie would pick such a vanilla question.

"Empanadas."

"See?" Charlie squealed with delight. "It's super easy! You'll all get the hang of it in no time! Okay, Vaggie, it's your turn to ask someone!"

"Oookay..." Vaggie slowly glanced around the circle, taking a moment to think before selecting her target. "Cherri, truth or dare?"

The bomb expert grinned impishly. "You kiddin' me? Dare, mate!"

"Then I dare you to...do a cartwheel."

Cherri Bomb scoffed, getting to her feet. "For real? I can do that in my sleep!" She retorted, easily demonstrating her point as she completed the dare with ease. Nifty clapped excitedly, letting out a maniacal giggle.

"Bravo, bravo!"

Cherri looked over to the shorter demoness, chuckling as she sat back down. "Alright, pipsqueak, your turn! Truth or dare?"

The janitor was practically vibrating with excitement. "Oooh, dare! Dare!"

"Then I dare you to give ol' Angie here a taste of the tickle monster treatment, yeah?" Cherri replied, sending a knowing smirk to her friend.

Angel, who had been preoccupied whispering something to Husk, sputtered in shock. "What the fuck? Cherri!" The actor cried out, a look of betrayal on his face. "Did you have to throw me under the bus?!"

The other shrugged. "Sorry, mate! I'm kinda limited on the kinds of dares I'm allowed to give at this bloody place."

Angel's head snapped in Nifty's direction, his heart racing as the tiny cyclops scuttled over to him, giggling with excited glee. "N-Now Nif, we can talk about this, yeah?" A grin was already starting to tug at Angel's lips, and while he leaned back slightly, he made no real effort to get away.

"Sorry, a dare's a dare!" Nifty launched herself forward, nearly knocking the actor onto his back with the force of her movement. The smaller sinner's fingers immediately found their way to Angel's sides, digging in with chaotic zeal. Angel let out a surprised yelp, biting down on his lip in a vain attempt to contain his chuckles.

"Nohoho! Nifty, cohohome on! Lemme gohohohoho!"

"Ah, he doesn't mean that! Just look at him; he's barely fighting back!" Cherri replied, grinning deviously. "Wait, not barely fighting back, more like not fighting back AT ALL."

From across the rug, Charlie was cooing at the endearing sight, and even Vaggie was starting to smile a little.

"Aaw, this is so cute!" The princess gushed.

"You think this is cute? Lil' gremlin ain't even gettin' one of his really good spots. You latch onto one of those, he's DONE FOR." Cherri was determined to fluster the shit out of him, wasn't she?"

Angel's face turned a brilliant shade of pink, his face burrowing into his hands in an attempt to hide itself. "Cheheherri, shuhuhuhuhut uhuhuhup!" He whined. Next to him, Husk couldn't contain the teasing grin tugging at his own lips.

"Well, well. Never would have pegged you as the ticklish type, considering your line of work."

Angel collapsed backwards onto the carpet as Nifty was gently pried off of him by Cherri, supporting his upper body on his elbows. It seemed the brief attack had been enough to satisfy his companion's mischievous streak, though Nifty herself was protesting over her fun being cut short. "Oho, cohohome off it. Everybody's a bit ticklish, ain't they?" He retorted.

"Not me." Husk replied smugly. A burst of laughter rang out from across the circle; it seemed Alastor was finally ready to speak up.

"Now Husker, it's not very nice to lie to one's friends, is it?" The Radio Demon chided, shaking his head in disapproval. The cat demon shot him a glare, wings puffing up slightly.

"I ain't lying!"

Alastor hummed, grin sharpening as a devious glint entered his eyes. "Funny, I seem to remember you rolling on the round, wheezing with laughter during your last shedding season. If I recall correctly, Nifty had decided to take a grooming brush to your wings. Ringing any bells?"

While not especially evident because of his fur, Husk knew that he was blushing up a storm. "You shut it!" He growled, tail flicking back and forth in flustered irritation.

"There's nothing to be embarrased about, Husk! I'm ticklish, and as we all just saw, so is Angel! It's completely normal!" Charlie chimed in, attempting to offer reassurance. "It wouldn't surprise me if everyone here was to some degree!"

"Hey, stop draggin' me into this!" Angel groaned. "Though I suppose she does have a point; I ain't never met somebody who ain't ticklish SOMEWHERE!"

"I'm not!" Nifty said, beaming with pride.

"Yeah, suuure." Cherri chuckled in response, shaking her head.

"I'm afraid little Nifty is quite right; both Husker and I have attempted to tickle her on multiple occasions, to no success." Alastor said, sharing a sharp-toothed smile with the little cyclops. "She seems to be indestructible when it comes to tickling."

Happy to have the conversation directed away from his own sensitivity, Husk nodded. "As much as I hate to say it, Smiles is right on that front. The girl's a walking fortress; no cracks in the foundation."

Noticing that Sir Pentious had been oddly quiet, Vaggie gave him a gentle nudge. "How about you?" She asked, wanting to ensure the snake demon felt included.

Pentious flinched, hood flaring out slightly. "Who, me?" He chuckled nervously. "Why, the great Sir Pentious isn't ticklish! It would be rather unbecoming of a villain such as I, would it not?"

"Not necessarily. Anyone can be ticklish, even villains." Charlie said gently.

Angel Dust snorted with laughter. "You say that, but somehow I have a hard time picture Al rolling on his ass and laughin' up a storm!" The actor butted in, pointing an accusatory finger at the overlord. "What IS the deal with YOU, huh? You got anything your wanna admit to the group?"

The faint sound of buzzing radio static could be heard lingering in the air. "Me? Why, I don't see how that's any of your business, is it?" Alastor replied, head cocking to the side as if to challenge the other demon.

"That ain't a no." Angel retorted with a small smirk.

Nifty jumped to her feet, waving her arms about excitedly. "Oh, oh! He is! He is! This one time, I-" The little demoness was cut off as Alastor scooped her up, pressing a palm against her mouth.

"Now, now, my dear! Some things are best left a secret, hm?"

"No fuckin' way, I wanna hear it!" Angel leaned forward, eyes narrowing playfully. "Go on, Nif! Tell us aaall about it!" As Nifty squirmed in Alastor's hold, frantic talking could be heard muffled behind his hand. A moment later, Alastor suddenly released his grip, lip curling as he recoiled in disgust.

"Did you just LICK my hand?!"

Charlie knew she should probably put a stop to things before they got too crazy; that she should redirect the group back to the game. However, seeing the pure, silly interactions they were having, she just couldn't bring herself to do it. After all, why not let them have their silly little squabble?

After tomorrow, it could be a good, long while before any of them could relax again.

[thirsty-lakedream]

After a long day of practice, the football team retired back to the lockers. The arid scent of sweat coming from the burly strong men filled the air. As the athletes freshened up and went along with their day, only two were left, cooling off; shooting like shit like normal. The first was the teams head linebacker Jensen and the second, his best bro and star quarterback of the team, Ryan.

The two jocks first met when they by chance got paired up as roommates in the freshman dorms. They’re synergy only heightened their football prowess. Thanks to that, they became the dynamic duo for the front liners. They’ve been inseparable since… well until Ryan broke the news.

A knock echoed from the locker room entrance. Jensen walked over and opened the door slightly ajar to see a lanky boyish latino standing there. “Oh uh, hey Mateo,” It was Ryan’s boyfriend. “What’s up?”

Looking evidently intimidated by the broad athlete, he he timidly spoke. “H-hey, I’m looking for Ryan. He asked me to meet him after practice.”

“Oh, yeah. Come on in.” Jensen pulled the door open to let him in. “Hey Ry, your- um, your… Mateo is here.” Though he wants to be supportive, Jensen still had his reservations. When Ryan came out to him he was shocked. All this time he never sensed the impression that his best bro was gay. He would always bring the hottest babes to their room, but was that all just a cover to his real wants?

When he laid on eye on his boyfriend, something clicked in Ryan’s eyes and he put on the warmest grin. “Teo, there you are babe!” The smaller guy walked over to where the football player was, sitting in his personal football cubby and climbed into his lap, teasing for a kiss. Ryan happily obliged pulling Mateo close, locking into a kiss.

Jensen tried to shy his eyes away. He was still adjusting to this new development, but whenever it was him and the two of them, the lovers couldn’t take their eyes and lips away from each other. It was especially awkward since the two got so lost into each other they were practically dry humping during their last hang in the frat house. It could also be cause of some slight jealousy. He wasn’t gay or anything, but he did miss spending quality bro-time. Maybe I should just give them some space, Jensen thought. “I’m gonna head out. I’ll just see you man.”

Ryan pulled away, to the dismay of Mateo. “Ok man I’ll catch you later!” Jensen walked out of the locker room.

He turned back to happily continue the make out section, but at the sound of the door shutting, Mateo climbed off of the man and rolled his eyes. “Finally I thought he’d actually stick around and we’d have to pull that grinding act again.”

“Oh come on, don’t you think that the intense PDA is making the guys too uncomfortable? We don’t want to ruin the real Ryan’s image.”

Mateo cruelly glared at the athlete. In a new mocking tone, he asked. “I’m sorry, are you actually questioning my plans?”

In response Ryan’s cool and confident smile demeanor crumpled. “N-no… sorry Mateo.”

“What did you call me?”

“Sorry, Sir”

Mateo coldly smiled. “That’s better. Do not forget who holds the power in this ‘relationship.’ Now back to business, what is your status on integrating into Ryan’s life.

“Well, everything appears to be fine. No one has suspected anything amiss.”

“Is that so?”

“As far as I’m aware, sir. I did as you told and continued to do the weekly calls with his mom and sister, and I’ve kept up both his grades and exercise regimen to a tee.”

Mateo took a moment to reply, but then simply asked. “What is Ryan’s moms name.” ‘Ryan’ hesitated to answer, which caused his partner to replayed. “His mother’s name, what is it?”

“Uhh I know this, it’s Ana, right?”

Mateo rolled his eyes, reaching out and pulling Ryan by the ear. “You idiot! It’s Amanda! What if that came up in conversation? You would have tipped anyone off immediately!”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry! I promise I will read the character notes you gave me again! I promise I will get it right next time!”

As ‘Ryan pleased, Mateo took note of something else. As he held onto Ryan, it looked as if his skin was stretching unnaturally, almost as it was being pulled away from his head. Pulling tighter, Mateo stretched Ryan’s face harder. From the offices of his eyes and mouth, paler skin much different then Ryan’s sun-touched complexion could be seen. “And let me guess, you haven’t been applying the glue like I instructed you.”

Ryan sounded so small and timid, “I-I’m sorry I forgot to do it the last couple days…”

Mateo let go of his boyfriend and walked over to his duffle. Digging through the sweaty gear he found what he was looking for, a long metallic tube of cream. Without hesitation, he squeezed a hardy dollop of goop into his hand and rubbed it vigorously onto the jocks face. Performing another experimental pull, Ryan’s face held rigid.

“You are really fucking this up. What would you have done if something happened during practice, or in the shower. How do you think those dumb jocks would react if their star players face distorted or came off, revealing some loser posing to be him, wearing his skin like some kind of costume?”

“I-I… I don’t know.”

“Now, is there anything else you want to confess to me before I find out later.”

Ryan bit his lip, but eventually admitted, “There was one little thing. I may have been talking to Jensen and gotten something wrong. Instead of remembering he has a sister, I asked about his brother… But I got him to believe it was a bad joke! I promise he doesn’t suspect a thing!”

Mateo simply rubbed his temple, trying to massage away the pounding headache “You’re on thin ice. Thin fucking ice.”

Ryan hesitated, before standing up. Using his large stature to try and intimidate Mateo, he barked aggressively. “I made some mistakes but I’m getting better, why don’t you get off my back.”

Mateo let out a sigh, turning away from the groveling man. “Do you know why I chose you for this job, Brian?”

At hearing his real name, the guy inside Ryan shuddered. “Umm, because you knew I would do anything for you.”

The Latino man scoffed, “The reason I chose you to put on Ryan and take over his life was because I knew as an actor, you’d be able to slip into the role seamlessly. Besides you even had a fairly convincing impression of the real Ryan. Clearly I was mistaken as your performance has been lackluster at best. What would stop me from taking you out of that suit and replacing you with someone else better suited for the job. I could even get them a voice changer and no one would notice a difference.” He pulled a small remote from his pocket. “One click of this and you will be ejected from Ryan’s suit, forced to go back to your sad, pathetic life as Brian. Just some gay loser no one wants or would ever want?”

Terrified by Mateo’s threat, Ryan fell to his knees, pleading to Mateo. “No please, anything but that! I’m so sorry please don’t take this away from me I promise i will do better, much better!” His voice sounding a bit off, now squeakier than his normal bravado.

Mateo hesitated, teasing his finger on the remotes button, before finally putting it back into his pocket. “Fine. I will give you one last chance. But listen to me… no more screw ups, no more forgetting to maintain the suit, got it? Let this be the last time we have to discuss it. After this, you are Ryan Griffin- my cocky quarterback boyfriend, but in private you are my loyal dumb servant.”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Repeat it,” Mateo demanded.

“I- I am Ryan Griffin, I am your cocky quarterback boyfriend, but in private I shall loyally serve you.”

A sinister smile crept on Mateo’s face. “Atta boy.” He placed his hand, caressing his dumb, stubbly cheek. “Now get changed cause your taking me out to dinner tonight.”

[puzzled-pegasus]

Heroes of Olympus---fitness/body related hcs

***Idk if anyone would even plan on it but Please do not comment or tag this as anything sexual as it is not meant like that in any way whatsoever***

Percy

Everyone lost some weight on the big Argo II voyage due to stress and all the fighting and everything, Percy is no exception. 

In general, though, he is still leaner than Jason and has slightly less upper body/ pectoral strength than he does.

However, he has THE fucking core strength ever

Unless he's been really, really exerting himself he normally has a cushion of belly fat over his abs but if you feel his abs they're wow so strong

Also bunch of shoulder strength, he does lots of climbing

He honestly needs some squish especially in scenes set After Gaea’s defeat. One of the reasons im writing these hcs is that I hate the fanarts that give the demigods six or eight pack abs and 0 body fat like?? Have u ever seen a 16-17 year old boy with chiseled abs. Especially one that eats like mr Jackson. His mother is feeding him good on seven layer dip and cheeseburgers and cookies and blue candy and he drinks blue cherry Coke and eats his fill of barbecue every day at camp you Cannot tell me he has no body fat arrgggh

He probably looked like that while he was in Tartarus though bc he was probably really dehydrated and exhausted lmaoo

V good sense of balance and coordination

Jason

Jason’s got more strength in his arms/shoulders/upper body than anything else

Big arm and chest muscles

Also naturally has belly--when he's not worried abt food--but he tends to stand taller so you can't see it as much

Probably lost the most weight on the voyage. Too busy making sure everyone else was okay and also healing from his various injuries. He also had to be absolutely sure there was enough food for everyone else so he was worried abt taking too much

Generally spends more time exercising and has hardly ever seen a junk food in his life and eats a lot of protein bc hes always lived at camp jupiter so he's very muscle

Piper

Piper didn't really start exercising until she came to camp so she's probably the least physically strong in comparison

More squish than Annabeth. Carries fat in hips and thighs and belly

Thinks/feels like she's fat and low key worries abt it

Was only mildly disappointed when she started demigod training and her belly didn't instantly disappear lol

Kind of jealous of how Annabeth is so thin and athletic but Annabeth wishes she had Pipers thighs/boob/curves loll the curse of being a woman

Piper also feels like she has baby face compared to Annabeth bc she has chubbier cheeks and it annoys her

She's got a pretty good sense of balance tho

Pretty good at running fast but she doesn't have as much stamina as Annabeth

Shes quite flexible also

Pretty good swimmer

Annabeth

Naturally quite thin

been training her whole life so she's got strong arms and legs and core

Really good at running and sprinting

Very agile too

Core strength and upper body strength 

Great at dodging attacks, less good at blocking

Tallest of the girlies

Climber shoulders/back muscles

Wishes she had Piper’s curves kinda. She doesn't care all that much but occasionally is like damn wouldn't that be nice

Frank

Arrgh I hate how in the middle of the series Rick took away all of his fat. Screw you sir. Put it back. Put it bacK

So Frank Immediately gets his tum back in the span of a few weeks

He's also really tired for the next however long after the Mars boy magic adrenaline wears off bc where's his fuel??? Gone!!

Very good at Lifting stuff. He had to carry stuffs for his grandma all the time bc she was old

Mostly strong in the arms and chest/pectorals

His growth spurt happened real quick so he's still not used to how big he is which is why he's all clumsy

Needs to work on balance and coordination lol

Although he got most of his chub back, his Babyface™ didn't come back quite so strong

Hazel

Hazel is the shortest girlie

Was really thin back in the 40s and then gained quite a bit soon after she came back to life. She was very confused and probably horrified

This was bc of a combination of having a growth spurt, pressure on little girls to be thin back then and the times having changed now, having enough to eat now, and changes in the amounts of additives and high fructose corn syrup and shit in foods

She was really distraught for a while bc much like Nico’s internal conflict with The Gay, decades ago being chubby was an unforgivable sin for a little girl

Obv not to Nico’s extent bc I don't think people were killed for being fat but still

It takes her a while to see it as not a bad thing but just a thing

She has pretty evenly distributed muscle strength because when she started exercise at camp jupiter they worked All The Groups

Leo

We love our tiny little shrimp man

He didn't get enough to eat during his growth spurt so he's kind of stunted

Even though he's a hephaestus boy he could not for the life of him build a lot of muscle

He's not that strong

He's probably pretty flexible though

Nico

Also stunted because he didn't eat enough in his growth spurt

Pretty strong though

Smol but he is still growing

Is getting taller and will almost definitely surpass Leo

Also is slowly gaining a healthy amount of weight as he stays at camp and Will makes him eat and sleep more regularly and now he's less tired all the time

Pretty good core strength and balance and agility

Looks more his child age now that his cheeks are more filled in

Reyna

Buff Girl

Girlie works out when shes stressed and now she's got muscles like steel cables

Im talking arms, shoulders, core, legs, glutes

Can arm wrestle Jason and win even if he does try his darnedest

Incredible sprinter

Does so many squats that she got the whole bakery lol

Really likes her muscles

Flexes in the mirror

Jason expressed to her how impressive it was a few times and it was partially why she fell in love with him lol

Will

Will has pretty good arm muscles actually and can lift heavy stuffs

Can lift his bf easily

He has a soft tum tho and padding on his arms

Does yoga and stretching and that works his core

Soft

Eats good proteins and veggies and gets good sleeps

Healthy boi 10/10

[radioisntdead]

Buon giorno or Buona notte dearest!!

I have another request heheheh

Think of this : Angel and the gang go out for another trust exercise, and they see an add for one if m!readers concerts.

Since Angel is a fan, he asks to go with the group as a bonding experience, which Charlie says yes too

They go together, and m!reader is getting ready, when they see Angel and think he's quite cute, not knowing him from his ahem, works and they sing a love song (Heavy metal lover by Lady Gaga) and Angel almost has a heart attack.

(It's mostly the ; 'I could be your girl,girl,girl' part that I get inspired from)

At some point Val starts being a weirdo, and then m!reader publicly shits on him in front of their entire audience, and he leaves after getting taken away by a few of m!readers fans

And it ends happily ever after with them together forever :D

(Readers music vibe is like odetari, ayesha erotica, asteria, etc)

If you could do this, it would make my summer!!

Love

-XIN🌹💝

Good evening my dearest Xin! I had so much fun writing this, my apologies it took awhile to write but I hope you enjoy it!

Backstage passes

Angel dust x M! Reader

Warnings: Valentino gets ripped apart, literally. Reader is low-key like the dazzlings from MLP, also I imagine the reader died via Bell accident like that evil dude from Disney's coco

Song used [I listened to this song so much while writing that it actually made me sick LMAO]

You appeared in hell overnight after dying from an unfortunate and totally not planned stage accident, involving a bell, everything you had worked so hard for gone within a mere moment.

Filled with rage and the confidence of someone desperate to thrive in the spotlight, you began to conquer the music scene of hell.

You climbed the ranks and crushed those beneath you, if you weren't so focused on gaining fame instead of plain ol' power you'd give a couple of overlords a good run for their money.

You captured the attention of hell's finest, sinners and hellborn alike wanted to book you for their events, concerts were sold out within seconds, stan accounts on hell's Twitter servers would beef with those who opposed you, music edits were made of you, memes and clips, mildly disturbing fanfiction was written, you were an icon.

Along with catching the attention of hell's finest, you gained Angel dust as a fan.

Your music would be playing in the clubs he went to, sometimes played during his drag shows, he'd use it as background for whatever thoughts he disassociated away to whenever Valentino was having his way, or he'd just listen to your music when he was alone.

And so when Charlie somehow managed to get the entire hotel front row tickets to your show after he mentioned it's make a good group exercise, he was ecstatic!

The group waited outside, Charlie and Vaggie were trying to secure a place for them in line, Alastor would rather died again then attend so his ticket went to Cherri, Husk had found the bar, Niffty was terrorizing some sinners by cleaning, Sir Pentious was... Sir Pentious-ing Cherri bomb, and that left Angel dust to wonder around until the show began, stumbling into a nearby store to grab some snacks.

You on the other hand sneaked out to go to the convenience store near by the concert venue in full performance outfit covered by an oversized coat and hood just to grab a slushie and a light snack because with all the dancing you were going to be doing, you couldn't do on a empty stomach but not a too full one or you'd puke!

And that's where you saw him, purchasing a couple of things.

You had a little thing for cute things, and Angel dust seemed to fall into that category, for you anyways, for most of hell's people, they usually tended to put him into a more... Exploitive one,

It wouldn't hurt for you to make one of your people drop off a couple of backstage passes for that spider, after your show right?

Or better yet maybe you could do it yourself?

The concert venue was filled with sinners and hellborn alike from all types of backgrounds, all there to see you perform.

Including a couple of overlords.

Angel's eyes bounced around the stage waiting for your arrival.

Soon enough the bright lights dimmed and more colorful ones took their place.

Lights, smoke, action.

Heavy metal lover

Heavy metal lover

Heavy metal lover

It was starting.

Heavy metal lover Heavy metal lover

You came up from a platform under the stage smoke coming out with you as the music began, microphone in hand, and eyes closed shut.

Heavy metal lover

Heavy metal lover

Heavy metal lover

Heavy metal lover

Your eyes shot open as you began to move, background dancers were moving in sync, all eyes were on you.

Heavy metal lover

Heavy metal lover

Heavy metal lover

Heavy metal lover

Dressed in black and neons you practically glowed in the dark atmosphere,

"I want your whiskey mouth all over my blonde south," your voice rang out throughout the venue causing some members of the audience to scream out your name.

You struggled to hold back a filthy grin.

"Red wine, cheap perfume, and a filthy pout," you walked out onto the stage front and center, lights following you in all your leather-y glory, the backstage passes in your sleeve crinkled.

"Tonight bring all your friends, because a group does it better," Angel dust's eyes were locked onto you much like everyone's else's, like they were hypnotized.

"Why river with a pair? Let's have a full house of leather," Oh how you adored being the center of attention, you looked at the crowd, eyes glancing over everyone, a mild shiver of disgust went through you when you accidentally locked eyes with what looked to be a grape flavored moth.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

You quickly moved your eyes away to continue looking for a certain spider, honestly your attachment to see a sinner you only saw for five seconds tops in a convenience store was interesting.

What was even more interesting was your ability to avoid the explicit ads for the films he did, seriously they were everywhere in hell! Including said convenience store!

"Heavy metal lover,"

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

"Heavy metal lover,"

As you walked across the stage you kept your eyes on the audience,

Searching..

Searching..

And you found him!

Right in the front row, how did you not see him before?

"Dirty pony, I can't wait to hose you down," your eyes locked on him as his locked on yours.

Did that count as a horrible, HORRIBLE pickup line or was that just poorly timed?

"You've got to earn your leather in this part of town," it seems someone hadn't seen the poison music video! You flared out your own leather jacket, the shiny gems on it sparkling in the dark.

"Dirty pearls and a patch for all the Rivington Rebels," you winked at him before turning on your heel as your background dancers circled around you with all sorts of dancing.

"Let's raise hell in the streets, drink beer and get into trouble,"

You danced and your background dancers mimicked in perfect coordination.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

"Heavy metal lover,"

You began strutting to the center of the stage.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

You leaned down and went into what I can only describe as a sensual army crawl but without relying on your elbows to crawl.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

You moved towards Angel dust.

"Heavy metal lover,"

You reached out an arm towards him, gently tugging on his bowtie to pull him closer to the stage, once he was close enough you touched his face, his eyes were wide and his heart was nearly pounding out of his fluffy spider chest, you his all time favorite singer was touching his face.

"I could be your girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl,"

Within seconds you moved your arm just enough to loosen the backstage passes from your sleeve and have them fall into your hand.

"But would you love me if I ruled the world, world, world?"

You tucked the tickets into the front of his shirt where his chest fluff was located, being careful not to accidently grope the spider.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

You gave a wink before flipping yourself onto your back and throwing yourself up and strutting back to the middle of the stage as your performers danced around you.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

Unfortunately a certain moth witnessed your little flirt, with his best pornstar? He didn't think so.

Without alerting the other two Vees who were actually focused on the show itself he marched his way through the crowd.

Heavy metal lover

"Whip me, slap me, punk funk, New York clubbers, bump drunk,"

Shoving audience members to the side, causing some to crash into each other and tumble like dominoes, grabbing the attention of others.

"Bud Light, liquors, bar slam, move it, this is your jam"

Of course that caught your attention, and you didn't appreciate someone stepping out and stealing the attention that belonged to you! That you deserved and worked so hard for!

"Wash the night with St. Jameson, Like a baptism, heavy metal lovers play,"

You took a couple of steps towards the side of the stage where he was.

"Baby, we were born this way''

"Uh oh, it seems a shiny headed purple man is trying to wreck the show! We can't exactly have that now can we?"

You could barely hear whatever words he was saying, in your prospective it was like a grape yappin' away.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

With a wave of your hand the crowd grabbed onto him, lifting him up and pulling him through, landing him in the cannibal section.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

Grabbing onto his limbs and pulling them apart, teeth were sunk into him pulling at his purple flesh.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

Attention was back on you, as it should be.

No one paid mind to Valentino's screams as if they couldn't hear it or as if it wasn't happening at all, completely and utterly enamoured with you and your music.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

Heavy metal lover

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

Neither of the Vee's would notice he was gone until hours after the show, no one would notice the blood scattered on the floor until late at night when they were cleaning up the messes, and no one would know what exactly happened to him until he eventually respawn, having lost everything.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

Heavy metal lover

What a scary power you possessed, even if you didn't completely realize you had it.

But that wasn't the focus here, because as if nothing ever happened you went back to flirting with Angel dust from the stage.

"I could be your girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, but would you love me if I ruled the world, world, world?"

Eventually the show would end, and you'd wait anxiously backstage until that spider came, cashing in that backstage pass you shamelessly gave him from the stage, followed by the princess of hell herself moments later trying to get you to join her hotel.

Heavy metal lover Heavy metal lover, Heavy metal lover

And what else could you do then accept her invitation to join her little hazbin hotel, although you were anything but a hazbin.

And if you did manage to get past the pearly gates, you already had earth and hell alike in a chokehold, imagine what you'd accomplish if you performed in heaven?

Heavy metal lover, Heavy metal lover

It was a good chance to get to know Angel dust as well, the two of you would go from friends to something more.

Heavy metal lover

Friends to lovers was such a a underrated trope wasn't it?

Heavy metal lover

It wouldn't hurt to lean a little more into romantic songs, especially if you went the more cheesy route and played for Angel alone.

Heavy metal lover, Heavy metal lover, Heavy metal lover

You couldn't wait for the chance to shamelessly flirt with him while you were on stage again.

Heavy metal lover, Heavy metal lover

Good evening folks! I hope you enjoyed! I know my posting schedule has been a little wonky [side eyeing the Wednesday angst being posted on Thursdays] my bad, there's some personal stuff going on, plus I've been feeling a little sick but hopefully everything will be a little more organized this week! As always thank you for tuning on in, goodnight!

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

roland and linda in cahoots on something

Thank you. Athos and Linda got along, I think Roland and Linda would get along like a housefire no one suspected.

-

"Roland."

"Something I can help you with, Spartan?"

Linda 058, the quietest member of Blue Team, is asking for his attention.

"How much nuance do you allow when it comes to personnel in potentially off-limit areas?" She asks while staring straight ahead, not bothering to look at the ceiling or a camera. Her voice is low and even.

He can't get a read on her in comparing her tone and body language to his wealth of readings from his crew. IIs were sarcastic, but also had a habit of malicious compliance and going right up to the point of rule breaking before stopping. It gave his captain and the admirals headaches but fascinated Roland all the more. Despite being a Ship AI and not having the experience of partnering with a Spartan, he found a kind of kinship in their creative problem-solving. What files were available to him painted a relatable picture. Linda had worked with an AI, receiving a glowing review, but Roland could read between the lines. Nuance, huh?

They were so interesting. Roland found himself struggling to balance his desire to see where this led and his ingrained purpose of maintaining order and function on the Infinity.

"That's an interesting question." He can't help the chuckle that follows. "Potentially, if someone was where they shouldn't be and I caught them, they'd get a warning to leave before I contact whoever's necessary to remove them."

"So you have to catch them."

Oh, this is fun.

"I see everything on this ship, Spartan. You may have the clearance, but I can't let you climb around the engine room."

A muscle twitches on her face. Roland counts that as a victory.

IIs were so much fun. 15 minutes after he's thrown down the gauntlet, Linda 058 disappears into a blind spot in a major hub of hallways. Roland notes it down for security and then leaves several threads around to ping when she reappears.

She does not reappear. He gets no ping. AI can't sweat, but the invigorating exercise of hunting for her sours when it's 4 hours later and the Captain is frowning at him.

"Roland, where's Linda?" Captain Lasky asks in front of three quarters of Blue Team.

"I may have chosen my words poorly." Roland says, his avatar slouching in defeat.

"Sir, she doesn't have her armor, so we can assume she's inside the ship." Kelly supplies.

Captain Lasky pales as he considers the thought. Roland hadn't considered that. "She would do that?" Lasky's voice is stricken. Roland feels a bit guilty as he watches his captain's blood pressure spike.

Fred is the only one who grimaces as they all nod once.

"You might have to admit defeat before she reappears." The Master Chief says to Roland. "Linda's competitive."

"What?" Roland gapes in shock. He doesn't want to give up so easily, surely there are ways to track the NI or IFF tag even if she's not in armor.

He stops himself from answering when his captain looks dolefully at him.

"Do I make a shipwide announcement and hope she hears it?"

He does.

180 painful seconds tick by and Linda 058 materializes out of a different blind spot halfway across the ship. Her ready gear has dust on the knees and elbows. The vents then? She walks into the meeting more relaxed than Roland's seen her.

Linda nods to the captain and Roland as she takes her place beside her team.

"Do I want to know where you've been, Spartan?" The captain sighs. His face and his biosigns are pointing towards no.

"Finding gaps in security, sir." Linda replies.

"Great." Lasky looks like he does not think it's great. Roland is just glad it's over. "You can help Roland with that when we don't have scheduled meetings."

Or not.

[b33zlebubz]

RIGOR MORTIS | CHAPTER EIGHT

SIMON RILEY X AFAB READER | 18+ MDNI | MASTERLIST | AO3 PREV CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER TAGS: reader uses she/her pronouns, fluff angst & eventual smut, blood violence & death, suicidal ideology, slow burn, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, toxic workplace environment, flashbacks “Abandoned in a battlefield with the one person you thought you would never see again; you're forced to come to terms with the ghosts of your past." CHAPTER CW: IMPLIED SEXUAL ASSAULT ((not from simon))

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 14TH 2016 NORWAY, 1400 HOURS

"You're movin' too much, still."

"You are quite literally breathing down my neck.  Kinda hard not to."

"Yeah, well, get used to it, love.  'Cause at this point you're always gonna have someone looming over you."

You huff, unamused, and it clouds out in front of your face as you squint through the scope of an unloaded rifle.  Gloved hands grip the machine as you focus the scope on a point far-off at the other end of the course. 

Four hours you've been out here, now, running a sniping simulation.  The rest of your squad was split up in pairs across the vast landscape.  You were left as the odd one out and, seeing as Walker had originally planned to just stick you carelessly in with another group, Simon volunteered to partner with you instead.  Keep things equal.  Which basically—as your superior—meant he had an excuse to sit back and smoke while you did all the work.

The exercise was simple; climb the mountain, find your post, sit and keep watch for flags until the next team tags you out.  A sniping exercise as well as a strength and conditioning one.  

You both made quick work of the mountain, ice picks cracking against the ice.  Simon never really considered himself the competitive type, partially because he never needed to be and partially because there was no point—he's worked hard to ensure he's always the biggest guy in the room.  Today, though, something in your growing annoyance as he yelled down keep up, sergeant or watch your footing every time you lagged behind stirred something in you, which in turn stirred something in him.  It quickly became something of a race.

When his pick slipped and you finally surpassed him as he skidded down a few meters, he heard your laugh for the first time against the wind.  For some reason, it made him smile, too.

"I hate sniper duty," you grumble.  "Don't know how you do it—sit in the snow for hours."

"Same way I put up with your whiny ass."

"And what's that?"

"Patience."

You roll your eyes, but your lip quirks up into a smile nonetheless.  A sight he's grown more accustomed to over the course of the past couple days of training and conversation.  He's helped you out in little ways, stopping by the shooting range to offer some constructive criticism as you practiced, offering dietary and training advice to get your strength up, sticking his neck out for you when he could around Walker…among other things.  As it would turn out, you were good company.  Whiny, maybe—but good company, nonetheless. 

You were improving, too.  Temperament and strength-wise.  How much of it is due to his company rather than his guidance, though, he isn't sure.

"You're not funny," you retort.

"You complained the whole way up the mountain, love."

You huff and shoot him a look.  "Did I get it done?"

"Affirmative."

"And did I beat you while doing it?"

He shrugs.  "More or less."

"Then you should watch your mouth, Lieutenant."

His eyebrows raise, amused.  "Is that a threat I hear?"

"It's a promise to beat you again sliding back down the mountain, sir."

He imagines you throwing yourself down the snow in order to beat your own speed record, and he chuckles a little at the thought.  "I'd like to see you try, Angel."

You smile, gaze focused through the scope.  You've spotted three flags already, and you spot two more as another hour passes.  The team that's supposed to take your place is getting closer, Ghost thinks it'll be twenty minutes before they rendezvous, and you both make your way back for the day.  

"Ghost."

"Angel," he exhales another cloud of smoke and vapor when you speak, breaking the comfortable silence that's washed over you both.

You maneuver awkwardly to position your hand behind you, opening and closing your fist a few times.

"Hand me one of those," you say, your breathing puffing out into the freezing air.  "And my lighter."

He shakes his head with an amused smirk.   "You're supposed to be focusing."

"Can't focus if my hands are shaking."

"And what if this is a real scenario?  You're not gonna have cigarettes in a life-or-death situation, sergeant."

"Yeah, well, you do," you flex your hand again.  "So gimme."

He figures you're the only Sergeant on base he'd let order him around, but he doesn't let that thought take root in his mind. Instead, he shifts closer so that he's lying on his stomach next to you in the snow.  

"Keep still," he tells you, plucking a cigarette from his pack.  "You miss a flag Walker won't let me hear the end of it." 

You seem slightly surprised, but you don't say anything as he slots himself next to you.  He offers you the cigarette as you keep your gaze in the scope, and you use your free hand to slot it between your lips before he lights it.  You inhale slowly, and he watches your lips as you do so; watches the tips of your fingers through the clipped tips of the gloves he gave you and watches you exhale.  When he looks up, you're already looking at him.  He's close enough to see where snow clings to your lashes.

A beat passes where you both just stare at each other.  Simon finds he can't read your expression.  Then, you shake your head and clear your throat, which in turn snaps him out of his daze, before you take another drag and lock your focus in once more.

"Another flag," you say, your brow furrowed.  "At your twelve o' clock.  About four kilometers out."

Simon shifts, putting some space between you both as he clears his throat because fuck.  What the hell was that? 

"Copy that."

You're quiet for the rest of the exercise, only speaking whenever you spot another flag.  For some reason, Simon still finds himself fixed on the cigarette in your hand as you work.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 14TH 2016 NORWAY, 1800 HOURS

Whenever both return to the base, there's a lot of whispering.  He doesn't notice, at first, too busy sorting equipment and putting it away.  You don't notice the lingering stares or the hushed voices either; or you're just pointedly ignoring them.  Sorting through your own gear nearby, you're quiet, and you're done and ready before he's even folded his snowsuit.  Nevertheless, Simon doesn't pay much mind to the name being whispered around until he can put the face to it.

Roger's Back.

Now, if there is one thing Simon isn't—it's humble.  After years of hard work he's managed to pack on an impressive amount of muscle, taking him from a lanky, malnourished teen to the legend he was now.  Not since Roba has he ever had an issue taking down anyone with the same experience, or sometimes more, than him.  He's made sure of that and intends to keep things that way.  

That is, until Simon happens to lift his head and peer down the hall towards someone he, for once, doesn't have to look down to meet the gaze of.

He's massive, is Simon's first thought.  The same height as him, he wagers the bloke might be the only lower-ranked soldier here who actually matches his strength enough to maybe have the upper hand in a fight.  

Simon's second thought is that bloody hell.

There's a long scratch across the man's cheek and the remains of a bruise around that of an eyepatch.  There's a still-healing gash on the side of his head, scar tissue fresh and thick on the temple of a shaved head, flesh stretched inward from staples freshly removed.

Ah.  Roger.  The sergeant who's skull you cracked against the edge of a bar.

The man approaches you from behind and Simon stops in his tracks just down the hall, eyes flitting over to watch the scene unfold in the corner of his eye.  

Keeping his face hidden had its cons, sure.  Maybe he did nearly suffocate himself every time he sweat his ass off in the desert.  Maybe underwater tasks were difficult and maybe he had to jump through all kinds of hoops to avoid getting his picture taken.  In hiding his own emotions, however, he's become quite good at reading the body language of others.

And you're uncomfortable.  Tense.  Ready to bite at a moment's notice.

You stand rigid still as you sense his presence, your back to the man as he approaches lazily to stand behind you.  Some words are exchanged.  You, biting retorts that just barely count as professional and him…standing too close for comfort.  

You hold your ground.  You don't punch first—just like Simon told you.  He watches the man's lips move, reads the threat that crosses his lips.  Still, you hold your ground as Simon's fists clench and he realizes what's happening—why you punched first.  Why you're struggling and why you put your training on halt for leave.

Next time, the man says.  Next time, you're not getting away so easily, bird.

Simon watches you think about it.  He watches your hands ball into fists, watches your eyes narrow and your nose scrunch with disgust.  But you don't move, no—you don't shrink away in fear and you don't immediately go for the kill.  You stand your ground just as Simon told you to.

You do so until the man looks away first, sauntering off.  Simon watches you let out one breath, then another, before you grab your pack in a shaking hand and sling it over your shoulder.  His eyes linger on you as you quickly leave the room, barely noticing how Roger approaches him to introduce himself.

It's not until the door shuts behind you that Simon grabs the young Sergeant by the front of his shirt and slams him against the wall.  Roger lets out a startled yelp.

"You lay another finger on her," he snarls.  "And I'll fuckin' cut it off, Sergeant, you copy?"

Roger's eyes are wide.  The breath knocked from his lungs, he's panting, and his mouth opens and shuts again in shock.

"I said do you copy?"

"Yes—yes, sir.  Copy and check."

Satisfied that his warning is taken seriously, Simon turns him loose with a hissed, "piss off."

Roger stumbles.  Disoriented, he continues down the hallway, and Simon is still seething as his boots carry him down a wrong turn to Walker's office.

He doesn't walk out until your safety is guaranteed.

[sophswritingthings]

Hi! Been reading your work and I’m also in love with Mizu! I was wondering if you could write something self indulgent? I wrecked my knee in a climbing accident a few years ago, tore my ACL, left MCL, and meniscus. I was bed bound for three months after a bad surgery and had to relearn how to walk. I’m good now minus the aches when the weather changes, and sometimes I still need a metal leg brace to walk comfortably but it’s really funny when I try to walk and my leg just sorta shits out and I face plant 😂

Could you write Mizu and platonic!Ringo being protective of a reader who just started walking on their own again but is still energetic and bubbly despite everything? Thank you!

pairing: mizu x fem!reader

warning(s): light swearing

a/n: btw I got your ask the same day I got the other ask about them being very accident prone. and all I have to say is: ARE YOU GUYS OKAY

word count: 302 words / 1,647 characters

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

“mizu! come on.. the apothecary said I could start walking again,” you hiss, narrowing your eyes at your lover across the room. 

“not until I’m there to make sure you don’t fall,” you sigh. “god knows what happens if you do.”

you roll your eyes, but laugh at her protective nature.

“(y/n)! come on, it’s time for exercises!” ringo appeared with a smile.

you and ringo were like two sides of the same coin, cut from the same cloth. you were both positive and upbeat, but you did think mizu was influencing him to be a bit protective over you.

“there. now you can stop complaining and ringo can take you,” mizu narrowed her eyes.

the fact that she trusted ringo with you said a lot; you knew that you were the person she trusted the most, but ringo came in a close second.

ringo helped you to your feet, slightly leaning you on his side. but, he made sure you were mostly doing it on your own. he’d been doing exercises with you for the last few months, teaching you how to walk again.

he let go of you, allowing you to stand on your own two feet.

“yes!” you exclaimed, smiling brightly.

“yay!” ringo exclaimed with you, “soon enough you’ll been running around like you used to.”

mizu scoffed, “no she will not. that’s how she got hurt in the first place,” mizu grumbled.

“oh, whatever! i healed, didn’t I? I’m alive!” you smiled at her. she rolled her eyes, your smile with infectious—seeing how you stayed positive through everything made a small smile creep onto her lips. “see? even you’re smiling.”

“whatever,” she sighed. “go get some breakfast, okay? we have to start traveling again. and carefully.”

you nod to her, placing a kiss on her cheek, “yes sir.”

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

[yuesgirlfriend]

of birds and honey

(simon "ghost" riley x reader) medieval AU

part 1/part 2

Mass in the early morning is, like most things in this mortal life, something to be silently suffered, on your knees with your hands clasped. 

The chapel is chilly in the hour where the sun has barely peeked over the horizon.  As the priest drones on quietly in Latin, she clasps her rosary and attempts to focus on his words. Incense hangs heavy in the air, cloy and sweet smelling. The birds chirping outside are louder than the priest.  You should exercise more caution, when listening from rafters and castle walls like a little bird.

She does not glance to her left where the hungover knights sit, irreverently chatting amongst themselves, crowded together on the pew. And she does not feel the skull-faced (Ghost, she had heard the Scotsman call him) ones dark eyes follow her when she steps up to receive a blessing.  Instead, she focuses on the gilded, shiny cross resting on the wall above the priests head. Strange that the only display of finery in the modest chapel would be what killed the Christ, rubies dripping off it like his blood. 

Delight thyself also in the Lord; And he shall give thee the desires of thine heart, the priest mutters, making the sign of the cross above her head. What are the desires of her heart, she wonders. Are they as they should be?

Sundays are slow days, in her fathers castle. Those who labor in the fields put away their plows, servants do as little as they can get away with, and her father spends the day hunting and resting. With her maids and father distracted and relaxed, she’ll slip away to walk the grounds, down to the edge of the wood to practice balancing on fallen logs. If she is stopped and inquired after, she claims it is to meditate on the message of mass. 

On the Lords day, she does not feel like a fine lady, or a forgotten child- she can walk by the edge of the river and climb trees until the sun sets and the restlessness in her heart is sated. 

Today something urges her to strip down to her linen smock and climb down slippery tree roots into the river below. The water is ice cold, numbing her toes until she can scarcely feel the mossy stones they glide over. Involuntary shivers wrack her body. 

She sinks lower and lower until the water reaches her shoulders, then her ears, then over her head. Scrubbing a hand over her scalp, she relishes the way her hair floats in the water around her face, like long grass in the wind. She holds her breath until she feels ready to burst before she resurfaces. 

When she does, a skull with dark eyes is there to greet her. 

She gasps and kicks back in the water on instinct before recognizing him. Annoyance and something bashful takes fears place. 

“I nearly mistook you for a river otter, lady.” Even in the privacy of the wood, he wears a cloth mask with an embroidered skull emblem and a hooded cloak, revealing nothing but his coal-dark eyes. In his hand is a bow, and on his broad shoulder a quiver.  He must have been hunting. 

“Then I pray you do not shoot me for my skin, sir.” 

He kneels down as if to get closer to where she wades in the water. A chill goes up her back. It must be the cold. 

“I’d never slay a naiad, lady. Wretched luck would befall me.” How can a voice, so harsh when ordering his men, suddenly sound as mellifluous as the river she swims in? How can a ghost look so very corporeal and present before her? 

She only responds by tilting her head, wondering where he learned of Greek, pagan spirits. 

He clears his throat, standing straight. “Your maids were askin’ after thee, before I left.” He readjusts his cloak. “Get out before you freeze, and I will escort you back to the castle.”  

Defeated, she sighs and turns, climbing up the slick roots on the riverside where her discarded garments wait. So much for an afternoon of peace. 

She is squeezing river water from her shift when she realizes the immodesty of the situation- white, soaking wet linen does little to hide the curves of her body or her nipples, pebbled from the cold. 

Peeking  under her damp hair, she expects to see him shielding his eyes or cowering away at her lack of modesty. Instead he is leaning against a weathered tree, toying with an arrow, appearing bored even as his eyes track her every move. Every bit a hunter. 

She should be aghast. She should scamper behind a tree or imperiously demand he turn his back to her. 

She ignores the things she should do, and instead bends at the waist to wring water from her skirt, tilts her head back to comb through her long hair with her fingers. Layer after layer of the dry, simple clothes she wears on these excursions are on next- her kirtle, her belt and pocket, her surcoat and woolen cloak. Last are her stockings and leather shoes . 

She rests on a tree stump and struggles to fit them over her wet skin, the wool catching. All the while the knight stands and watches her, even when she hikes her skirts up to her knees. To better access her shoes, she tells herself. 

He carefully steps on the river stones and reaches the other side without so much as a drop of water staining him, until he is looming over where she ties her laces, eyes trained on her ankles.  

She starts her way back to the castle, ignoring the hulking shadow of a man behind her, plaiting her hair as she walks. Humming, crunching leaves beneath her feet, trying to enjoy her few moments of freedom before the week begins anew. Trying her best to not think of the way the Ghosts eyes felt on her, as tangible and real as the water droplets slipping down her back.

[schrodinger-swriter]

There isn’t a lot of hurt/comfort scenarios for sir pentious so I am going to request one.

If you are comfortable with it, can you do a headcannon/scenario where reader gets taken hostage during a turf war and sir pentious goes and rescues them?

Hope I’m not breaking any rules, sorry if I am, but I hope you have a good day.

Sir Pentious rescuing the Reader

Not much to say here in the author's note! So I guess I'll just talk about my plans for the day! I am.. not looking forward to making bread today. I might do it tomorrow, I wouldn't mind doing it today if I didn't have to make a bunch of other stuff. Shrugs... But I'm making cookies! Chocolate chip, most of them being sent to a family member in the hospital. I hope he likes them C:

That aside, I hope you enjoy Anon!

Since the date for the next extermination has been announced, revealing that it was going to be coming faster than ever... it sends so many sinners into a spiral. They scramble to do anything, almost as if a last hoorah before they're all killed. Some party, other's try to take down an overlord. Many start trying to make themselves more powerful in an attempt to have a fighting chance against the exterminators. Hence, more turf wars. An all time high in violence, actually. You were just trying to get back to the hotel when you were caught. It didn't help that you were known to be in the Princess of Hell's corner, perhaps your captors thought they could bully Charlie into giving them a boost of power and control.. a little stupid on their part in hindsight given the Princess doesn't exercise her authority.

Sir Pentious is going to need to get help from other people, likely going to ask for help from others in the hotel. He only does this after his first few attempts to save you go.. terribly wrong. He's worried sick about you, he's physically sick with worry, fearing what's being done to you.

The only thing you can hear from where you're being help captive is true and utter chaos. Crashing, booming, yelling and gunfire. You don't even fully realize that Pentious is scrambling towards you. If this were any other scenario you may have giggled at the sight of him visibly steaming. But you can't bring yourself to do so, he's climbing all over you trying to get you free. He's asking a dozen questions a minute, caressing your face with his scraped up hands. He doesn't have much time before someone is yelling to just grab you and run back to the ship. In the chaos it sounded like Angel.

Pentious is going to be all over you the entire time you're in bed and recovering. He's going to come to you the second you start to utter his name. He's trying.. so hard to not bombard you with questions, instead opting to try to keep discussion with you light hearted until you're more yourself. Thankfully, if you're a sinner you're going to heal from most.. if not all.. of your injuries, so at least there's a silver lining in that.

Pentious isn't going to let you go out alone for a while, even when the turf wars outside eventually calm down. He accompanies you when you go out, bringing his eggs with him as well. He becomes even more protective of you.

[kinopio-writes]

Good morning/afternoon/night! Could I request a fic where a male reader is super friends with Niffty, but he's a pyromaniac war criminal who causes a lot of problems so everyone hates him except Niffty? Never found many fics with her so I wanted one, can be in whatever format you wish :)

A/N: This is really interesting. You chose the perfect character for this. ‘Everyone hates him except Niftty’ made me remember a TikTok video with the audio, ‘He looks angry. Why does everyone always look at you that way?’, but it’s with Alastor. Also, that implies that even Charlie hates you (definitely not as much, so I guess it’s more of a dislike), so I’m also going to specify why everyone hates/dislikes you except Niffty.

Also, this is formatted in headcanons because that’s so much easier and I don’t want another Adam w/ a Sensitive!Reader case where it took me more than 3 weeks to finish writing a oneshot.

Warnings: Mentions of murder, Probably not mentally okay reader

———

Niffty w/ a Pyromaniac War Criminal!Reader

• your introduction to her was literally indirectly burning a part of the hotel

• while she may not have liked the mess, one thing was for sure:

• you’re a bad boy

• so she was glad to know that you were going to stay at the hotel

• she instantly made it known that she liked you

• “I’m Niffty.” She approached you rapidly as she giggled. “I like you—”

• you interrupted her by pushing her off when she tried climbing on you

• “Get the hell away from me,” you seethed

• “Woah, woah, woah.” You flinched at the hand that tried to break you two apart. “What’s wrong?”

• neither of you replied to the princess

• Charlie sighed at the lack of response, and as both of you left the room to continue the tour, you gave Niffty a nasty glare

• she only grinned at that

• she would follow you around a lot

• and you would snap at her each time

• but she seemed relatively unphased

• that was your dynamic for a while

• eventually, her advances come to a stop when she realizes that you were a bad boy…

• ...who was just lonely

• yeah, no thanks

• Niffty stopped seeing you as a potential love interest after that

• and that was when your friendship started blossoming

• because she was really the only friend you could make

• Charlie…tried liking you. But you made it difficult. You wreck the hotel at least once a week, you don’t participate in any exercises and prefer to sit in a corner to burn shit, and you just…didn’t have any redeeming qualities. But…she still had hope, so she’s still letting you stay

• Vaggie just distrusts most people who come her way, and causing problems in the hotel just increases her hatred for you more (Charlie’s the only reason why she hasn’t kicked you out)

• Angel Dust just knew not to mess with you

• Alastor didn’t like you for causing problems in the hotel as well, surprisingly (he doesn’t have much male friends, so, no luck here)

• Husk also knew not to mess with you

• and you spook the fuck out of Sir Pentious even if you’re on the other side of the room

• that leaves you around Niffty quite often

• you like her because she doesn’t judge you

• and Niffty felt the same

• you watch her frame her dead bugs nonchalantly (you help her do them sometimes)

• you also even help gather them by setting them on fire (Niffty stashes the ashes in jars, categorized by species)

• remember in episode 3 where Niffty confessed her secret about killing mother bugs in front of their children? You laughed at that

• the other residents may think you two are an odd pair, but who cares?

• you two fit each other quite well