#Extra-credit

[captainkurosolaire]

X3 ~ Deathly Design

Reference ~ Unfortunate Future ~ ♪"Unbroken"♪

 Upon a dry-desolate land field of sands. A destroyed-convoy caravan left a smoke-signal upon the skies torched. Scattered around could only be explained as a massacre. Ruins, mangled, battered, broken cadavers of crimson-wearers.

Said their red-they famously wore represented the blood they sacrificed or had spilled. Trying to play honor among fellows. Putrid, disgusting… When did it happen? When did pirates become a bunch of soft-heart; little bitches? Care about others outside their Crews. Facade, another lie. Maelstrom sells others' beliefs; they're what Rules the Seas. Taking over-every route. Policing and enforcing marine-law. Creating a hub that’s only known-remaining.  How many Beast Tribes, they chase out of their territories? How many walls were made against nature? How many-times, they had to get on their knees, and got bailed out by a Warrior who had no reason to be involved. Calling themselves pirates, poor imitations. Only vigil remaining of pirates were the ones who were chased out, those who had semblance of identity, voices too distinguished, still-carry. 

Embers were being snuffed out, their crews, desires of freedom, stomped out prematurely, eaten and spit down their throat, and then told to say, thank-you. Those-who governed with invincible numbers and that fleet, was all they had. Revenge consumed one man. Who carried the burden, weight, of his dying breed of people, a self-inflicted-martyr. Pressure, twists like a knife, darkens a soul. Shouldering the responsibility of bygone-eras. He once reigned with gallantry. Individual-rogue was dead. Wishful thinking to hope this was a cruel-dystopian-joke, future’s roots finally known. 

Good-riddance. This manipulated realm would rejoice their thanks in time, they’d acknowledge and revere him. While he conquered them all for their benefits, because no-one else was capable.

All those left skewed, left to the afterlife, to be absorbed into the soils and amount to actually something, and attained freedom. If they-were actual pirates. He’ll be waiting for their appreciation in the Seven Hells, expectantly. Bloodstain leather-studded boots walked away from the scene. Mantled-cloaked, holding himself like some prestigious, acclaimed pirate-king, dreadful-aura surrounded him. Behind a land-slide rock, sweat profusely leaked from a leg-shaken Maelstrom; yuck a survivor. Cowardice behavior showing their genuine-hide, self-preservation. Unfortunately this poor-sod, encountered this individual-once. Newly pure-destructiveness wasn’t seen before. His eyes-bulged, tears ruined his face, from a snot weeping nose. Hurt people,           Hurt people. All you must know.

Those blonde brows-angered together, his fellows with their entrails what-was-left of them, was upon his clothes. Looks like they got some-richer texture on their coat. Revenge was infectious like a poison-droplet; it could taint a whole barrel. That scoundrel… N-No-monster had to be stopped! This wasn’t the first-instance. Random locations of Maelstrom being deployed supposed to deliver or pick-up rations or goods, were being chosen, tactically. Small-ports, barely guarded, were being butchered, harvested. Malice did this for sport. Bilge-water rats squeaking pests amongst his lion den. Take away duty and employment expected from trade-deals. You risk clients and employers-ire, you create severe rifts. Costing a whole City-State ton not just gil, but reputation. He couldn’t oppose them directly in the open-waters. He could drain them of resources, create panics. Make a civilization of needy-greedy denizens start growing irate. Maybe put some teeth-back in their maws. A rifle was aimed shaken but nerves fought until steeled thinking of his kindred. The-kid had one-shot. Think a Miqo’te with trained senses didn’t hear, smell, that filth in that-rubble? He swung-back preemptively and the bullet-clanked against a plated-bracer worn on his wrists. Deflecting and taking rotation, golden-eyes-staring into the soul. Foul presence of dominance. Unbridled walking akin to tyrannical bosses. He owned this world and fucked it, You-forget how small it was? We trampled on it instinctively after-all, Our true-purpose. Amusement came, a smile, and shake of his head. “Want ta’ die, boy? I’ll get you t’ live-eternally.” Voice carried bass. Authority, sheer-certainty. For he alone, Him alone is believed, Necessary.

“Good-jewelry can b’ made. Think, I’ll cut yer toes, fingers off and wear em’ as a bone brooch. I’ll gouge-an eye, feast upon it while your other is left t’ witness. I’ll keep you breathing-barely functioning until I choose. To give ye freedom. We’ll see, if you’ve got in-fact a spine and strangle-it around that pretty-neck like a noose. Like you hang my condemened people, every’ Sun' while getting fancy promotions and bein' publicly applauded.” Verbal painting ran through the mind of his opposition, on-a-wrong side of misfortune-law, visualizing, he felt his entire-being on a different plane altogether, happened. Blackbeard took the slowest-stride, heavy-stepping on soils. The lad-of-red was devoured long ago, by fear. Piss soiled his pants, until hysteria roared out and screamed, horror. “W-w-why us! Why us?!” He needed to reload his rifle. Couldn't find-strength like his digits-were already gone. This pirate’s-dreadful Presence, was… unfathomable wicked.

Playful-remorse showed on the Seeker. “Mommy-send you out here to die? Cruel of her yet not unexpected. Wanna-know why? Cause I can.” Speaking of the ill Admiral Merlwyb, nobody remained holding balls left to stand against her. She collected them in her purse. A purest savagery reason, a Scourge no-doubt about it had become the very-thing he once, paraded around-to-exterminate. A chilling-grin forebode on that visage. Pirate-stopped in his tracks letting-confusion and relief travel in his victim. An-attack was already made. Living-animated chains from his sheathed scimitar’s hilt had conceal, snaking around his leg burrowing in the sands.              Creeping until jailing his prey to his shackled-fate.

“Play pirate. Get th’ real-deal’s attention. I’ll b’ nice… Unlike you all-did with courtesy, bringing the severed-head of my wife, sayin’ ye found her. Maybe, I’ll do that with you. Leave you as a parting-gift on the Admiral’s desk, Starlight is comin’ around th’ corner. Get a little-sweet on her.” Vengeance, irrational-rage, vile revenge had finally-claimed the-once heroic pirate to act on bottled-past. “I-I-I Didn’t do that terrible act, I swear!” He proclaimed trying to run away, his feet-entangled, chain already taking his ankle, tripping up on his own feeble-true design finally shown. Those little-badges worn, ranks, they only account so far. Then when you’re left without numbers, bodies, you’re nothing more than another’s, kill count. Tsking, disappointing from his pursing-lips. “O’ poor-lost-soul so unguided, I’ll ferry ye’ home... You wear that-crest. Collective-n-crew, a walking ship, ye-live like a hivemind donning your crimson uniforms. Wanna carry the-others blood so badly, fine. I’ll paint that symbol. There’s a sea-that-finally swallows ye’ all.” There was no-deterring this mindset. Black-clad Captain, was overwhelmingly taken by murder on the mind. Had become-his-recent favorite vice.

The victimized-man crawled trying to scurry but the predator enacted haste for execution. As he neared-closer, in the clouds-roaring a draconian-cry shrieked. Snowflakes descend below-staining, unimpressive in Blackguard’s dismay.

Newly brandished, foiled Noble Hero, of the historical past had come to save days. Opposing forces from several-fates yet again, staring to beholden gaze.                          Piercing Blues to Unyielding Golds. A shining-pillar white knight, once thought dead, had resurrected with redeeming qualities and elegance, pristine. Once former being a spitting-image of Captain.  Now they’ve flipped, again.

Would’ve and should’ve stayed that dead, a pirate’s desire remained. A cold-unforgiving scowl gave rise to this incomplete-world, a Blackest Sun heralding as a Champion. Wasn’t going to forgive this transgression ruining spoils.

Meet The Sworn.

Ft. @lordshiroelune

[brainrotcharacters]

TW: Wolverine Badonkas

I laughed rewatching because like

[seagiri]

pots n picks week - day 2: race swap

turning them into neopets was a joke until it wasn't

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny goes to a new School

So! When Danny got expelled from his High School, it wasn't really a big Suprise. He had missed for too many days or just walked out in the middle of Class, and his grades were lower than anyone else in the school. It was just a matter of time really.

When confronted by his Parents, he had just claimed that it was the constant ghost attacks getting to him (not a total lie) and that he was sorry.

Well, his parents tried to help.

After hearing about his supposed Fear of Ghosts, they decided that it was a good idea for him to go to school somewhere outside of Amity Park, so he could focus on his Schoolwork and not be distracted by the constant Attacks.

Of course no School wanted to accept a problem student like Danny, so they were forced to look into alternative schools to find one that would accept him. And they did! So they had Danny pack his bags, promise to call regularly, and shipped him off to his new School.

HIVE Academy.

[aquacomet]

The 2024 DCA Reveal-versary magma collab has been wrapped up and here are the final results! ☀️🎉🎂🌙

A super big thank you to all the amazing artists that attended the collab to celebrate! We've broken way over 2023's record of attendees with a overall number of 59+ artists! It really is a lively celestial party in there, they're probably going to need more cake!

An additional thank you to all who stopped by, shared the event, expressed their interest and to the Daycare Friend Pick Up mods for also allowing this in their discord server!

(Due to being over the tumblr tag limit for the full credit list, a reblog will be added onto this with the second section of credits!)

⭐Here's the list of all the artists that participated!⭐

@aquacomet - @crystalmagpie447 - @pure-plum

@thatmooncake - @flinxypie - @eggcromancer

@nexerist - @crabsnpersimmons - @zamjd

@darlingdeer21 - @agent-darkfest - @piowasthere

@nighternex - @gyxtar0luvs - @sulfadimethoxine

@pluck-heartstrings - @starshinenoa - @enduu115

@tvboxi - @tinkpumpkin - @marshmallowcat666

@luckyyyduckyyy - @m-mints - @sunshinehare

@ping-ski - @lil-artist-blog-fandoms-ocs - @sipnoot

@synthrobeat - @galaxysugarr - @alynwrench

(I took care to note down everyone who participated and added their credits, but if I missed someone let me know what you made and I'll add you to the list!)

[hithisiszooz]

[arafilez]

MY EXTRA CREDIT ㅤ—ㅤ ﹙★﹚

ー☆ㅤㅤ [ pgw x fem!reader ] ㅤ੭𓂃 ㅤacademic rivals au, sugg 𓏧 it sucks when you are bad at a subject, but your academic rival helping? worse ㅤㅤ warnings make-out ㅤ﹢ㅤ2.5k wc ㅤ𓏧ㅤ req

You clutch your head in annoyance as you look at the marks in your Chemistry paper. It is stupid really how you aced every subject this term except this one, the awful one. Chemistry! The other subjects’ mark sheets lie neglected on your table as you go over it again and again trying to make sense of the mistakes in Organic, not that any of that made sense.

You hear a chuckle from behind you and your head shoots up in annoyance. Park Gunwook! The bane of your existence right after Chemistry, the demon that reincarnated from hell itself.

Your other classmates would describe the boy as sweet and helpful, and “too hot for a nerd” which is absolutely brainless of them because he isn’t sweet, he is evil, he isn’t helping, he specializes in teasing you, and he definitely isn’t “hot”. Ever since the beginning of high school you two have been competing in every class and one-upping each other at everything.

And it was fair because you loved competition, you were happy you had a reason to fire up and do your best, especially if you got to see the defeated face and glare of Park Gunwook after every result. It was not that he went easy but you knew your strengths and beating Gunwook just happened to be the biggest of them.

Until eleventh grade knocked at your door and you suddenly dropped in one subject and life has never been happier for Gunwook. His annoying smirks and taunting eyes after each term went by and you still didn’t get better at the said subject. Gunwook was on top of every rank, while you came later because you were too bad at Chemistry.

Agonising glances, and teasing remarks from Gunwook increased and so did the whispers in the hallway about the painful decrease in the ranks of one of the top students.

“How’s being a lesser rank again, y/n?” his voice cuts through your thoughts making you groan in annoyance, if only, if only you can ace this stupid subject you can just show him why messing with you is not fun!

“Shut up,” you grit, angrily slamming the paper back to its place and looking up at the cocky smile engraved on his face which you wish you could slap right off. Your teacher glanced at the two of you once and sighed before going back to his work.

“It sucks I know,” he puts a hand over his heart faking a pouty face and you search for it frantically before picking the compass up and pointing it at him and saying, “Leave my desk or only one of us is getting out of this classroom alive.”

He gasps before deadpanning and slapping the compass out of your hands and it hits the ground with a clink. “Sure, I would know, you Thomson’s model of atom,” as soon as the sentence leaves his lips your eyes widen and you scream, “What did you just say?”

Before you can strangle him the teacher comes up and coughs behind you saying, “You two to my desk, now!” The end-of-class signal goes off and you two quietly walk back to his desk as the other students leave.

“When will you two stop arguing?” your teacher breaks the silence and sighs and you two glare at each other making him groan quietly. “First things first, apologise to each other.”

“What?”

“Absolutely not.”

You two speak at the same time making him stand up and say, “Are you disobeying a teacher?” You quickly shake your head and Gunwook looks down before saying, “Well she started it.”

“Me? You called me the Thomson’s model of atom because you think I am incorrect and useless,” you scoff at him, folding your arms and he snickers, “Hey, you said it, not me.” You gasp loudly before fisting your hands and your teacher puts a hand in the middle and yells, “Enough you are not first-graders.” He was definitely not paid enough for this.

“Y/n, your chemistry scores are not improving and this is the pre-finals of your last year in high school. Your grade depends a lot on the finals, and so do your applications to universities so you have to improve by finals. What is going wrong?” your teacher asks and you shrug looking down. If only you knew what was going on!

“If you must know, Organic Chemistry can’t be done by mugging up, you have to understand the concepts,” he continues and you nod knowing he is right. “I wish I had the time to personally address your issues but since I don’t, I have a better solution, Gunwook will help you!”

Your head snaps in your teacher’s direction who has a determined look on his face that makes your eyes widen in horror. No way had he said that!

Gunwook will help you?

Gunwook will help you?

Heck no!

“But Sir, I never agreed to that,” to your relief, Gunwook speaks up but your teacher shushes him saying, “I will give you extra credit.” As soon as the sentence leaves his lips you know you are dead. Gunwook is the type to do anything, anything for extra credit.

“Sir I think I can do just fine by myself,” your desperate plea falls on deaf ears as he says, “I waited for that y/n, so trust me, I wouldn’t take this measure if I saw you improve. You didn’t and you clearly need help, a little can do a lot. I have seen your paper, your concepts are not clear and finals are in two months. If I was in your place, I wouldn’t take the risk.”

He has a point. You hate it, but he has a point. Too bad, you will not need Gunwook in this equation. You nod lightly to an agreement but hatch a plan to get rid of Gunwook.

“I don’t need your help,” you dismiss him as he tries to sit beside you in the library and cocks an eyebrow at your sentence. “Sure you don’t, do lie to someone who hasn’t known you for long,” he makes a face and continues, “Unlike me.”

“For fuck’s sake,” you curse under your breath as you turn towards him and say, “Where’s the harm if you just lie?” A weird noise leaves his mouth sounding like a half-gasp and half-scoff as he tries to calm himself down.

He can’t kill you, then he will lose both the extra credit and his non-criminal status. He is too young to go to jail!

“I am not lying to anyone, you will be tutored by me, whether you like it or not,” Gunwook states and sits down beside you forcefully pushing your bag towards you. Your glares and whines are futile as he takes out his chemistry notes and opens up a chapter on organic chemistry.

“So we will start with Haloalkanes and Haloarenes, you have your class notes right?” Gunwook starts and you smirk mimicking his deep voice, “You have your class notes right?”

“Don’t test my patience,” he states, running his hands through his hair and for a moment your breath hitches as your eyes train on his veins and messy lock before you blink and internally slap yourself. He is annoying, stupid and- god, you need more adjectives to define his annoying habits.

“Don’t test my patience,” you mock him, this time in a high-pitched voice, grinning when you see him take in a deep breath and say, “Real mature.” Rolling his eyes he goes back to arranging your notes and you scoff. He wants maturity, fine, you will give him maturity.

“Okay, let’s start with the basics, you know Darzen’s process right?” He looks at you hoping you have shut up in for good and he can proceed in peace. He was never more wrong.

“Yes, of course, the theory that says organic compounds do not have Carbon,” you say cheerfully as Gunwook chokes on air and looks at you. You fake your innocence and continue, “Or was it the one that says about colligative properties,”

Gunwook’s eyes narrow but he keeps quiet letting you keep up your act and you gasp quite dramatically saying, “Oh then it is the one that says atoms can’t be broken right?” Gunwook snorts saying, “Stop shitting around and answer me.”

“But I am answering you Wookie,” you say in a sing-song voice, batting your eyelashes knowing full well how much he hates being called Wookie from your mouth. “Don’t test my patience,” he warns, his voice dropping an octave before he cocks his head to the side and continues, “Sweetheart!”

You purse your lips and curse yourself as you scan his face, eyes lingering relatively longer on his lips. In what world do library lights make a person look attractive? Probably in Park Gunwook’s world!

“I am asking actual questions though,” you whisper as Gunwook cocks an eyebrow saying, “That mouth of yours does nothing but talk dumb.”

You know you are playing with fire already but what’s the harm you think as the next sentence leaves your mouth, “Do you want to know what else it does?”

Gunwook smirks as he slowly stands up and hovers over your figure all while keeping his eyes locked with yours and says, “Not really, I just want to shut it up.”

“Sure, try it,” you are in too deep to back out and one thing about a competition is you never back out. However petty the competition is you need to win!

Grabbing your jaw, Gunwook says, “Last chance to back out,” and you scoff saying, “What and let you win?” You know you have struck the chord you want to when he presses his lips to yours. Gunwook kisses you with an intensity that blurs the line between reality and dreams and you kiss him back with equal fervour.

The kiss is anything but soft, as Gunwook’s hands press against the base of your neck making him deepen the kiss and you fist his shirt to keep up with the pace. You find yourself gasping for air as soon as he breaks the kiss and looks at you asking, “That shut you right up, didn’t it?”

“Don’t know really,” you take in a breather saying, “I might need some more convincing.” Messy hair, loose tie, unbuttoned collar and swollen lips- you have never seen Park Gunwook this messed up. And to be the reason behind that boosted your ego more than it should.

Gunwook fixes his glasses as he sits down and cocks his head saying, “Sit on my lap.” Your face heats up as soon as you hear that from him. You have never seen this side of Gunwook and to say it is intriguing is an understatement.

You are quick to get back your composure as you stand up and pretend to pick up your bag saying, “What makes you think I will listen to you say?” Gunwook’s eyes train on yours and travels down your neck and down checking you out fully before returning your stare with a boring one of his own.

“Fine, leave,” his voice is taunting you and it makes you curse your past self for thinking he is not hot, clearly, you were out of your mind. You want to walk away, prove to him and yourself you were not attracted to him at all.

“Three seconds,” he whispers staring at you as he mouths the numbers backwards and when you stand exactly where you are he knows he has you right where he wants you. It would be a lie to say Gunwook isn’t equally attracted to you but he prefers to push that thought to the back of his mind.

His fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you and you sit down on his lap, the breath you had held for so long finally being released. He looks up at you, eyes sparkling with anticipation making you roll your eyes and whisper, “I hate you.”

A deep chuckle leaves his throat as he replies, “I wish I could believe that princess, but you didn’t leave.” You hate how much you love cocky Gunwook but you are not a person to back out as you pull him by his collar and say, “Shut up and kiss me.”

When Gunwook’s lips presses to yours, you let out a satisfactory hum tracing your fingers along his collarbones and to the back of his neck. He grips your jaw, deepening the kiss and bites your lower lips earning a surprised gasp from you. His tongue easily roams your mouth exploring every inch of it like a starved man.

A groan builds up your throat when you find him easily taking dominance making you run your hand through his hair trying to tie yourself to the last strands of reality left in your system. How many times have you pictured him to kiss you exactly like this, to finally lose his cool and abuse your mouth leaving you breathless?

Obviously, this was much better than those midnight thoughts! You run your hands through his arms, groaning at the fact that the boy in fact did work out. A lot. A shiver runs down your spine when Gunwook bites and nibbles lightly on your lips making you lightheaded.

Gunwook fingers trace along your jaw and collarbones and he holds your waist with his other hand tracing slow circles on the exposed skin below your shirt. You feel a light haze settle over your senses as he starts leaving open-mouthed kisses down your cheek and jaw. You take in a quick breath when you feel him sucking lightly down your neck and you lean back hoping he has more access.

Hooded eyes, heated glances and fidgety hands. You feel almost blessed to see Gunwook like this.

He attaches his lips to yours and your mind empties everything as it fills with thoughts of him, his senses, his touch, his smell and his everything. If Gunwook wasn’t holding your waist, you surely would have melted to the ground by now especially trying to wrap your head around the intensity with which he is kissing you.

When you part, albeit breathless, silent anticipation fills the air as you look everywhere but his eyes. A red hue adorns Gunwook’s neck and face as he coughs softly to gain your attention. When you look back at him, reality drips back and you manage to croak out a sentence.

“If you kiss me like this after every lesson I wouldn’t mind being tutored really,” the voice is breathy, soft and slightly desperate, very unlike you, but it feels worth it as soon as a smile etches its way into Gunwook’s lips.

“I don’t need tutoring excuses to kiss you like this, princess,” he whispers back and your eyes widen but before you can comprehend he makes sure your brain shuts down again.

Pressing a soft peck on your lips he giggles as you stare at him in shock.

ー☆ㅤㅤ [ ara's notes ] ㅤ੭𓂃 ㅤtysm 🥭 anon for requesting, not my best work but the picture is giving me a lot of hope lmao ㅤ𓏧ㅤ libraryㅤ zb1 shelfㅤ navi

੭ 𝅄ㅤ ꒰ TAGLIST ꒱ ㅤ⏤ㅤ fill this or comment or ask to be added.

@haneagerr @slytherinshua @aaa-sia @yeosayang

@haecien @sxmmerberries @gong-fourz

some dialogues from @urfriendlywriter & @girlwithherheadinthestars tysmmm, they are awesome !!

ㅤㅤ(ㅤㅤ© arafilez on tumblrㅤㅤ)

[certaintylikelightning]

thinking about riz and how his mom and his weird romance partner both think the bad kids are bad friends to him… thinking about how riz took on every single stress token for his friends… thinking about how riz always puts his everything into helping his friends and being there for them. and the bad kids aren’t Bad Friends but sometimes they take/need a lot, and they’d be fine if he pushed back, but he never pushes back? thinking about fig’s one nice note made riz break down and send gorgug WALLS of text about how much it meant to him

[svampira]

awkward family dinner

[tlmtwelve]

On Wednesdays, they wear pink.

@summer-of-bad-batch's Post Credit Prompt: Pink

[sour-cherrii]

Making this shit as if I have free time

[jisuto]

✰ ⋆ ★

[syoddeye]

kinktober - day 26 - seduction

price x f!reader | 1.4k words cw: alcohol, flirting, bad pick up lines, Mr. Blobby, the cowboy hat rule a/n: liberties? taken. smut? look elsewhere. a silly time. my type of seduction. summary: john never saw the appeal of halloween. then he met you. banner by @/cafekitsune | kinktober list

What John would do for the quiet of his room.

There’s another hour to go. Another hour of shit beer, stilted conversation, and sweating more profusely than when he was last in Urzikstan.

Heaving a sigh, John pours the dregs of his drink onto the ground, pulls the mask over his face, and returns indoors to the Twilight Zone: Gaz and Soap’s Halloween party.

“Looking goood Michael,” a nun with a crooked habit croons, looking over the shoulder of a familiar mohawked head, its face buried in her neck. “Y’wanna take the other side?” 

Beneath the mask, his nose wrinkles. Handy thing about Myers, his silence. He doesn’t feel a lick of guilt ignoring chatter.

He nearly collides with Simon around the bend. The big man leans against the wall, arms crossed, the distressingly realistic machete clutched in a mitt. His head angled toward where John just passed.

“Are you…?”

From behind the shadow of the hockey mask, Simon huffs. “Yes, sir.”

“Right. Behave.” A chuckle follows him around another corner. 

In the main thoroughfare of Kyle’s home, John hugs the walls. His other sergeant is occupied on the makeshift dance floor, four bodies deep on every side. The younger man’s got a nurse in the front and a Beetlejuice in the back. Ambitious.

He pushes toward the kitchen, stopping short at the sound of cheering. A sigh rattles out from his chest. He swore he’d stay until one. Gave his word. But pulling an Irish goodbye grows all the more enticing. With the men thoroughly distracted, it’s not as if they’d notice his departure.

“You look like you could use a drink, Mike.” A voice chirps in passing, coming from the rear.

His head swivels and his breath catches. Pretty. A feast for the eyes disguised as a cowgirl. A cow print shirt with nacre buttons tied loose in the front, exposing ample skin above and a sliver below. A bandana knotted at her throat. Deep brown leather chaps worn over jeans with a big buckle. Topping it all off is a cowboy hat, tilted slightly, casting a shadow over the top half of her face.

“Gruesome work by the way. The IV bag? Brutal.” She grins, walking right on by.

Her outfit has no lasso, but John feels her tug anyway.

It’s chaos in the matchbox-sized kitchen. A group of men egg on a lobster necking a boot, whose face matches the shade of his costume. A man’s slotted between the legs of a woman perched on the counter, their faces melded together by spit. He locks eyes with the lone ranger as she hip-bumps the refrigerator shut, two longnecks in hand, before she slips through another archway.

He follows.

She winds through a cluster of people, not once glancing back to see if he’s behind her. Works for him. Her jeans hug her arse perfectly, the chaps creating the perfect frame for its lovely shape. A more animal part of him disconnects, wandering off to imagine her with only the leather on. He swallows a pool of saliva as he crosses over into the sitting room. He finds her hovering beside a bookcase. He closes the distance and yanks off the mask.

“Beer?”

His eyes fall to her hands. “Yeah, let me–”

“I got it. Hold this.” She relinquishes a beer then fixes the other bottle to her belt buckle. With a metallic clink, the crown finds a groove, and the cap pops off with a twist of her wrist. Her free hand snaps out to catch it before it falls, but John doesn’t look away from her waistline. Without a word, she exchanges the bottles and repeats herself. A small, triumphant smile breaks across her face. “There.” An introduction rolls off her tongue as she taps their beers together.

Christ.

“Thanks.” The back of his neck is damp, as is his hair, something he didn’t think to mind until now. Sheepish under her obviously appraising gaze, he rakes a hand through his mussed hair in an attempt to tame it. His eyes dip briefly to her belt again, stuck on the patch of skin below her navel. Looks like a nice, soft spot for a kiss. His name sticks to the roof of his mouth briefly. “I’m John.”

“John.” she echoes. Best he’s ever heard his name sound. “Well, John, you’re welcome for the beer and for doing you a favor.”

The wry smile on her face is infectious. His mouth twitches. “And what favor is that?”

Her lips shine from a sip. “You were gonna bolt and miss out on the show.”

“The show.” He repeats, squinting. “How did you…?”

“I’ve pulled enough French exits to see the signs. With or without that mask,” she points to his face. “You radiate I don’t want to be here energy. As for the show, everyone knows the best shit goes down after midnight. Especially on Halloween.”

 Doubtful. Yet, who is he to refuse such company?

“I didn’t realize I was that obvious.”

“Most people are open books without realizing it.” A smirk forms on her face, her voice light but pointedly cheeky. “You know, I read palms, too.”

It’s a bit. John plays into it, returning the expression. “Yeah? You want to try mine?” 

She swallows a drink and sets the bottle on a shelf, gesturing for him to give her a hand.

He chuckles, obliging her. 

With a waggle of her brow, she steps closer and turns his palm up, immediately inspecting it as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. She’s silent the first few moments, and though the party buzzes around them, he’s glued to the feigned expression of severity. Focused on the soft pressure of her fingers gliding across his skin, tracing its lines and the calluses.

“Hmm.” she hums knowingly, tapping one juncture of lines. “Your career line. Says you’re doing well, that you’re on an upward trend. Similar story for your travel bug line,” she recites the platitudes for several minutes, eyes flicking up to meet his as she goes. She’s gorgeous, better up close, and funny. She effortlessly riffs off his comments, cracking the both of them up over her more far-fetched predictions. Admittedly, the plunge of her tied shirt tempts his focus once or a dozen times.

A playful lilt teases the edge of her words. “We can’t forget your heart line, John.”

“Can’t imagine it’s very interesting.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Something impish glints in her eyes. “In fact, I see an encounter or two in your future.”

The air goes thin—charged, electric, each syllable dangling like a worm on a hook. “Is that so.” he angles closer, fingers slowly closing to catch hers. “These ‘encounters’…Anything you can tell me about them?”

She abruptly flattens his fingers again, smoothing over his palm without looking down. “Something about taking a cowgirl home to put her in cow—What the fuck?” Her eyes break away, widening in a mixture of disgust and disbelief.

He turns just in time to see a Mr. Blobby barge into the room, purposefully trip, and fall down onto a coffee table. The wood cracks and splinters beneath the monstrosity’s weight, while whatever psychopath inside the costume does his best impression of the creature’s demonic voice. There’s an accent to it. Vaguely familiar, but ultimately unplaceable.

Gaz appears in the doorway, Beetlejuice face paint smeared on his cheek. His mouth hangs open, then shuts in a snarl. “What the fuck—”

John swears, his hand slipping free, and abandons what might’ve been the ride of his life to interject.

It takes some doing to wrangle the diseased yam outdoors, with Simon and Soap hauling it by each of its arms. John lingers in the doorway, watching the pitiful man be dragged off by his lieutenant and cursing sergeant. The latter’s sore about missing the good word from his girl in the veil. Somewhere in the house, Gaz plays the aggrieved host, surely seeking the comfort of his nurse. A dejected Beetlejuice tosses one back in a corner.

John slowly oscillates through the rooms in a loop, his expression carefully neutral, but his eyes dart past every shoulder and over each head, searching. He returns to where he left her, but the cowgirl’s nowhere in sight. Probably left with the small group scared off by the disturbance. His hand twitches at his side, feeling the ghost of her fingertips. 

A slight weight touches his head as he turns to finally make for the exit himself. He catches his surprised look in a mirror on the wall, then the cowboy hat on his head.

And her sly grin poking over his shoulder.

“You still interested in a roll in the hay, or did I misread that?”

[the-meme-monarch]

happy birthday to my friends and i’s knight chara and strange someone frisk aus/theories :]

hi for undertale reasons i don’t like any combination of shipping chara frisk and asriel. if you ship them go away 👍

[scoriarose]

She came up with a new activity

[doctorsiren]

Art of Patroclus wearing Achilles’s armour that I did while writing an essay for my Greek and Roman Lit class last week