#I could eat a bucket full of them lol

[shadyufo]

Holiday baking time!!

So far I've made 2 loaves of banana bread, 55 oatmeal date cookies, 150 chocolate chip cookies, and 300 oreo truffles. Also fixed a giant pot of vegetable soup and some sweet potatoes. May still make some sugar cookies lol.

Hope all of you beautiful peeps are doing well and feeling safe and warm and loved this holiday season <3

[telesodalite]

I need to be weirder about the scavengers and cannibalism...

[lupinqs]

FOCUS ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: practice gets a little steamy…

☆ ━ word count: 3.1K

☆ ━ warnings: smut (p eating, fingering, kinda public sex but ig not really)

☆ ━ links: my masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: okay so this is SUCHHH a scrap, i have not proofread it either, it’s just not great, i’m not very happy with it but i wanted to post something so here it is i hope you all like it more than i do LOL

YOU’RE in Maryland, visiting Paige’s family. You and her got here a little under a week ago following the first round of Geno’s summer sessions. It’s been a lazy few days so far, full of long mornings spent in bed, video games on the couch with Drew, and afternoons tanning in the summer sun. It’s been nice; a solid break that the both of you need before what Paige has dubbed her “world tour” of the summer. You’re tagging along for parts of it—though not all of it—and it’s safe to say you’re not excited for the amount of plane rides and jet lag you’re about to face.

However, you and Paige both decided that a week of sitting on your asses might do more harm than good, so you’ve gathered yourselves at the local high school gym, getting some hoops in.

A few buddies of Paige’s, as well as Drew, tagged along in the beginning, but as the hours grew longer, they began to fizzle out. Drew is the last to leave, heading to his actual basketball practice with his own team.

And then it’s just you and Paige.

The two of you could leave now; you’ve certainly been here practicing long enough. However, you can see the itch of a smirk in Paige’s face and you know what she’s going to say before the words even leave her mouth.

“1v1?” she asks, a playful challenge in her eyes.

You smirk, taking the challenge as you always seem to do. “Not too scared you’ll lose again?”

Paige rolls her eyes at the reminder of the two of you’s last one-on-one game. She waves a hand, saying dejectedly, “You cheated.”

“Nope, you’re just a sore loser.”

Paige just shakes her head, grinning. “I’m not a sore loser because I didn’t lose.”

You decide that you’re not entertaining this. You’re well aware that she will continue bickering with you about it until you give in, admitting that she’s right and you’re not. It’s always this way; she will literally go on for hours if you let her. But, nonetheless, you both know the truth—which is, you definitely beat her in that game.

And, when you begin the game, the way the first few minutes are going makes you believe you may win this one, too. You’re up a good few points—Paige has been slacking on defense and you’ve been picking up the pace on offense. When you get another bucket on her, you grin widely, calling to your girlfriend, “Gee, you a little rusty, P Boogers?” You add the nickname KK’s created, knowing how much it annoys her.

However, Paige doesn’t bother responding, instead abruptly ripping her white long-sleeve over her head and tossing it across the gym on the other side of the court. Your grin falters at that, eyes soaking up Paige’s body. Jesus. Already, you can feel your heart start to race (and it’s not from the basketball game). Paige is wearing a Nike black sports bra, and, with her shirt now shed, the silver chains are on full display along her chest. Her basketball shorts are also rolled down, so that her whole torso is practically exposed, abs included. You feel your mouth salivate at the sight of Paige’s skin glistens with sweat, the way her abs flex, the way her arms look (you seem to grow fonder and fonder of them every day, especially since Paige has been in the weight room more often).

A small smirk paints Paige’s face as she takes in your surprised expression. She just raises her eyebrows, saying with a shit-eating grin, “What? It’s hot in here.”

You roll your eyes at Paige’s obviousness, opting to resume the game rather than respond to her. She’s back on offense, you on defense. You defend as you always would, hands raised, feet tracking your opponent’s, eyes flitting between the ball in Paige’s hand and Paige’s face. However, as your eyes trail between the two, they can’t help but track Paige’s abs, the sweat shining on her porcelain skin, the way her chains go with her every movement. You swallow thickly, doing your absolute best to concentrate on the game instead of your extremely sexy girlfriend.

“Focus, sweetheart,” Paige teases, dribbling the ball slowly. The nickname makes your heart stutter. “You’re gonna lose if you keep staring.”

And then she powers forward, scoring a layup with no hesitation. She grins and cocks her head at your bad defense, tsking as she asks, “Where’d that focus of yours go, hmm?”

Your cheeks flush at her words, and you grab the basketball, doing your best to lock in. “Nowhere, I am focused,” you argue, trying to get past the blonde’s defense.

“Oh, sure,” Paige murmurs in your ear, now with her front pressed flush against your back as you dribble, attempting to find a hole. She catches the way your face turns, looking to get through, but instead your eyes once again catch the chains that have begun to stick to her skin due to the sweat. Her smirk only grows, and she adds slowly, mockingly, “You are focused. Just… not on the game, yeah?”

“Shut up,” you grunt against her, trying to get a shot in. She doesn’t let you, blocking it. You groan a little as her hands snake around the ball, effectively stealing it from you.

“I will once you tell me what you’re so focused on that has you distracted from the game. You were just doing so well, beating me for once,” she says, egging you on.

You scoff, snapping, “You know damn well what I’m focused on.”

“I wanna hear you say it, baby,” she taunts, blue eyes squinting with mischief.

You hold her gaze for a long second. You could give her what she wants, say that the only thing you’re really able to focus on right now is just how fucking sexy she looks and how much you’d love to rip her clothes off right here, right now and fuck her. But, of course, you don’t. You’re just as stubborn as Paige is, so you simply utter, “No.”

A look of annoyance—that satisfies you very much—flits across her face. She shrugs, saying, “Fine then.”

You continue the game, but things seem to only be looking worse for you. No matter how much you try to fight it, try to focus on the basketball and the basketball only, it’s like your eyes have a mind of their own, and they seem to stay locked on Paige’s body. And, of course, Paige takes every opportunity she can to flaunt it, knowing full well the effect it has on you. Her smirk never fades, especially as she gets closer and closer to winning.

However, it seems like Paige has finally had enough with the teasing. She drives to the basket, right past you (you let her; you’re done with this game), making a final layup. She then turns to you, catching sight of the way you stand there watching her, having not bothered to defend that final play. “Game over,” Paige announces. You can’t help but notice how her voice is lower, more huskier than usual. It means you’re probably going to get what you want.

You step closer, eyes darkening with pure want. You’ve given up pretending that you don’t. “You’re such a tease, Bueckers.”

Paige raises an eyebrow, her smirk turning into a full-blown grin. “Oh, yeah?” She steps closer, her body almost brushing against yours. “Maybe you just needa learn to focus better.”

The air between you is charged, and before you can even respond, Paige has you pushed against the wall of the gym, her chest pressed against yours, her face so close her nose nearly touches your own. The sound of the both of your breathing fills the space, heavy and expectant.

Paige’s eyes lock onto yours, and—without an ounce of hesitation—she leans in, her lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. It’s almost instinctual at this point, the way your respond to it. Your hands find their way to Paige’s back, pulling her closer as the blonde’s tongue traces your lips slowly, seeking entry. You willingly part them, allowing Paige to explore your mouth passionately. She’s going fast, and if you weren’t so used to it, it might’ve been hard for you to keep up. Nevertheless, you do, albeit with a couple teeth clashes.

Paige’s hands slide from their spot on your hips up to cup your face, angling your head to deepen the kiss. Your own fingers trail from her back, tracing her sweaty skin, until they thread through Paige’s hair, effectively ruining the once slicked back bun (not that either of you care much).

Paige breaks away from your mouth, trailing a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline. You can’t help but tilt your head back, granting the blonde better access to your neck. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears and the shallow pants escaping your mouth as Paige’s lips find the sensitive spot just below your ear.

And then you feel her teeth biting. It’s not enough to truly hurt, but it’s enough to elicit a whimper from you—a sound that Paige loves. She does it again, gets the same reaction, and then soothes the area with a flick of her tongue. Paige’s kisses trail down the expanse of your neck, surely leaving marks that you know you’ll have to cover up tomorrow. But you don’t have it in yourself to care much about that because each press of Paige’s lips, each gentle scrape of her teeth, each soothing lap of her tongue, sends shivers down your spine and heat through your core.

Your hands tighten in Paige’s hair as she reaches the hollow of your throat, sucking hard. You feel your hips involuntarily arch toward Paige, seeking more contact. The blonde smirks against your neck, pleased with your reaction. She moves lower, kissing along the line of your collarbone, hands sliding under your tank top to caress the soft skin of your stomach.

You feel your breath hitch as Paige grows more insistent, tongue darting out to taste the salty tang of sweat that permeates your skin. Her hands travel upward beneath your shirt, fingers brushing the underside of your breasts. Your eyes flutter open at that, remembering where you are.

“Paige, we really shouldn’t,” you say, but your voice shakes and your hands find their way to the blonde’s abs, tracing the defines muscles and betraying your words. “Anyone could walk in,” you add, attempting to keep yourself composed.

Paige’s lips capture yours in a fierce kiss, silencing your protests. Her hands are cupping your breasts through your sports bra now, and she manages to reassure you between kisses, “No one’s gonna walk in.”

And, just like that, your resolve seems to crumble. That always happens with Paige—it’s so easy with her, and, though, sometimes it does frustrate you, you usually don’t regret it. “Fuck, P,” you gasp, fingers digging into your girlfriend’s skin.

She grins against your lips, and her right hand slowly but surely trails its way from your chest to the waistband of your shorts. It slips beneath them and you feel yourself growing hotter—and wetter—with each passing second.

Paige’s fingers slowly begin to tease your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that make your knees go weak. It’s in stark contrast to her kisses, so fast-paced you can hardly breathe. Eventually, you manage to break the kiss, gasping raggedly, voice a mix of desperation and need, “Quit teasing.”

Paige’s smirk only seems to widen, and her pupils—which are blown so much that her blue eyes look nearly black—are full of lust. “Am I teasing?” she asks, fingers sliding through your slick folds.

You feel your heartbeat stutter and your core pulsing with utter need. “You know you are,” you mutter, glaring. She presses her thumb harder against your clit, though it’s not in the way you need it (and she knows it). “Quit it.”

“As you wish,” she murmurs, lips ghosting along your earlobe. Without hesitation, she dips two fingers into you, the sudden intrusion causing you to gasp loudly, arching against Paige’s touch.

“Shit,” you breathe out, hands gripping Paige’s sides for support. Your head leans back against the gym wall, and Paige resumes the kissing on your neck, marking it up even more. Her fingers continue inside you with a steady rhythm, each thrust drawing out sharp gasps from your lips.

“So wet for me, baby,” Paige says against your skin, biting your shoulder lightly as she curls her fingers. You outright moan at that, and she asks, “How long you been dripping like this, waitin’ for me?”

“All day,” you admit between whimpers, practically shaking against Paige. Her fingers go deeper, fucking up into you harder. “Paige, please,” you beg, eyes squeezing shut.

Paige’s lips curve into a knowing smile. “Please what, baby?” she teases, fingers hitting that spot inside you that makes your legs feel like jelly.

“Fuck, your mouth,” you manage to gasp out between moans, body heating up with each passing second. “Please, P, I want your mouth.”

You watch as Paige’s eyes darken with hunger at your words, and you feel your heartbeat begin to quicken. “Whatever you want,” the blonde murmurs, voice filled with promise. She pulls her fingers out of you, savoring the way you practically whimper at the loss. Then, with deliberate slowness, she sinks to her knees before you, her hands sliding your shorts down with her.

Paige glances up at you, blue eyes full of a mischief and a smirk that you’ve had a habit of kissing off her face. You can’t help but think about just how fucking good Paige looks like this, cheeks rosy, lips kiss-swollen, sweat shining along every expanse of skin that’s exposed—which is a lot. Your eyes wander from her face to her chest and shoulders to her abs and back. And when your eyes meet hers again, the look in them… Jesus fuck. The sight is genuinely almost enough to make you come right then and there.

And you know that Paige knows the effect she has on you. You can tell in the way her smirk sits on her face, the way her eyebrows raise slightly, the way she leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your inner thigh—so close yet so far from where you really need her.

But she doesn’t tease for long, because when she finally reaches your core, she wastes no time, her tongue flicking out to taste you.

She starts with long, slow licks, gradually building the tension in you. Each stroke of her tongue makes you feel like you’re on Cloud 9 and about to have a stroke all at once. Your fingers tighten in her hair, hips arching toward Paige’s mouth, seeking more contact.

Paige understands—truthfully, she’s so familiar with your body at this point, that you can’t remember the last time she didn’t understand what you wanted—and she dips her tongue into your entrance. Her fingers trail from their grip on your hip to your clit, rubbing in firm, quickening circles. The dual sensation makes you cry out, your nails digging into the skin of your palm, your other hand tightening in Paige’s hair, pulling slightly. She lets out a satisfied hum against you at that, and the vibrations send a new wave of pleasure through you.

Paige knows exactly what you like, and she certainly uses that to her advantage. She curls her tongue inside you, seeking out that one spot that makes you see stars. The noises coming from your mouth begin to grow louder, your hips grinding against Paige’s face, still desperate for more.

“Fuck, Paige— God,” you moan, voice breaking. “I need… I need more.”

Surprisingly, Paige doesn’t make a comment about how needy you are, instead opting to do as you say. She pulls her tongue out, replacing it with two fingers, thrusting them deep inside your cunt. At the same time, she focuses her mouth back on your clit, sucking and licking so fervently you fear she might make you faint from her head game.

Paige can feel your legs trembling, the strain of standing becoming too much. Without breaking her rhythm, she throws one of your legs over her shoulder, giving herself more leverage, her tongue and fingers continuing their relentlessness. You can feel the pressure building within you, threatening to snap.

“God, you taste s’good,” Paige murmurs against your wet pussy. You catch the way your arousal is coating her chin and the sight of it—along with a deeper curl of her fingers—makes you moan loudly. “So sweet. ’Could do this all fuckin’ day, if you let me. ’Would make you come a million times over, baby.”

You cry out again, both at her words and the pace of her fingers curling and thrusting, the wetness of her mouth on you. Your body tenses, every muscle coiled tight as you hover on the brink of release. Paige senses how close you are and doubles down, adding a third finger and sucking hard on your clit.

That’s all it takes. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your entire body shuddering with the force of it. You moan out Paige’s name, your fingers gripping her hair so tightly that it has to hurt (though Paige doesn’t mind). She helps you ride out your high, her fingers and tongue working together to prolong your pleasure.

Finally, when your body goes limp and your breathing begins to slow, Paige pulls back, planting soft, soothing kisses along your inner thighs. She looks up at you, her lips glistening with your arousal, a satisfied grin on her face.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” Paige says, eyes trailing all along your body.

You can only nod, still too breathless to form a coherent response. Your heart swells as Paige stands, pulling you in for a kiss. Her tongue slips in your mouth, letting you taste yourself. You moan against her lips, your hands wrapping around her neck, pulling her closer. You stay like that for a moment—you savoring Paige, Paige savoring you—before finally breaking apart, both of you breathless and smiling.

“I love you,” Paige murmurs, planting a short peck on your lips. Then your nose. Then your forehead. “We should probably put your clothes back on, though, before someone does walk in on us.”

[toxictigertonic]

HIII i absolutely adore your outlast trials headcanons, they're so silly and accurate .. if u don't mind, could you maybe do one of the prime assets going to the movie theater? that'd be so funny

Took a little break to give my brain more time to soak in the outlast bathtub, but I'm back with more silly.

COYLE

- He wouldn't take his sunglasses off for the movie I'm saying this right now. It could be a 3D movie and he'd just put the glasses over top of his own.

- Kinda guy to get a hotdog at the movies instead of just popcorn. Then he complains about the price to the underage cashier.

- He likes to watch cop and action movies, imagines himself being the protagonist through the whole movie. He wishes he was that cool.

- Leaves popcorn on the floor and his empty cup in the cup holder because "it's their job to clean it up".

- Would try to steal snacks that Gooseberry brought in. She was gonna share them anyway but if he's gonna be like that he can starve.

- Shushes anybody who even breathes too loud when the movie is going. He is Locked In and if you distract him he's going to kick your ass.

- Due to being this locked in, he will hold his piss for however long the movie is. He's not missing a second of this, he'll piss himself if he has to.

- Does not care what seat he actually bought, he's gonna sit where he likes and you're gonna deal with it. Dick.

- Would try to smoke a cigarette inside of the theater and have to be escorted out. Would not go quietly.

- Does not stay to see if there's anything after the credits, misses out every time. It's not that he doesn't know, he doesn't believe that there's actually anything to see.

MOTHER GOOSEBERRY

- Brings a purse full of snacks with her. She is unwilling to spend 20 dollars on a little bit of candy. Still gets popcorn though, nobody can resist movie theater popcorn.

- Futterman wants to watch gorey horror movies while she wants to watch romcoms or just comedies in general.

- Futterman will complain through the whole movie if he's forced to watch a romcom. And he's loud about it too, the other movie goers would complain, but... that goose is scary.

- If he got his wish and they're watching a horror movie, he's cheering when characters die. Fuck the protagonists he's here for BLOOD.

- Futterman also complains about her snack choices. Candy? SUGAR? Think of the cavities, Phyllis!!

- She doesn't talk during movies but she is the one softly gasping whenever something like a plot twist happens.

- Futterman is face down in the popcorn bucket just munching away. He's gonna need a bath (read: get dunked in the sink) when they get home.

- Futterman would crack shitty jokes during quiet parts. Don't laugh it'll only encourage him to do it again.

- Phyllis is also a "hold it until the movie is over" kinda person but only because Futterman throws a fit if he misses out on parts. That's if they're watching a horror movie, if it's a romcom he's begging her to leave lol.

- Refills her popcorn before she leaves and brings it home with her.

FRANCO

- He actually can't eat popcorn bc the kernels get stuck in his teeth and it's uncomfortable :(

- Instead of eating popcorn, he's scarfing down candy. He strikes me as a gummy kind of guy.

- Gooseberry is actively rushing him past the snacks and candy bc he WILL try to buy 8 different kinds of candy and end up spending 60 dollars. He has the money but he does NOT need to experience a sugar rush halfway through a movie.

- He'd also go for horror movies, but also mafia/mob movies. Would shout at the screen about inaccuracies.

- Out of all of the assets, he's the one talking during the movie. He has a hard time sitting still and he's not completely paying attention and he wants Gooseberry to tell him what he missed. Coyle is shushing him the whole time.

- Despite being the one that keeps yapping, he'll kick the back of someone else's seat if he thinks they're talking too loud.

- Also leaves a mess of candy wrappers and spilled drinks, just like Coyle. He just doesn't care tbh.

- Gets up 9 separate times to use the bathroom, has to step in front of Coyle each time to get out of the row. They're gonna kill each other after the movie.

- If somebody else tries to step over his legs to get out of the row, he'd trip them. The menace.

- Gooseberry is clapping her hand over his eyes if there's any nudity and he is FIGHTING to move her hand away. Let him see!!

I would watch a movie with Phyllis and only Phyllis everyone else can wait in the car (sorry Franco)

[pretty-red-garnet]

Angel

Daryl Dixon x Fem! Reader • France • Light Angst/Fluff

!Spoilers! For The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon episode one! Don’t read this if you haven’t watched yet! Also, thank you so much to the anon who requested this. I had a lot of fun writing it.

PS: Ignore the canon divergence lol.

Heavy limbs is all Daryl feels as he begins to become conscious again. He's huddled on an overturned boat, his frozen fingers gripping your waist to keep you afloat with him. It seems even unconscious, he's always thinking of you and your safety before anything.

The coast is close, and he fights against his droopy eyes to look towards you. Your eyes are still closed, and he panics and swats at you to wake you. When you do, your groggy too, glazed over eyes looking towards his.

"We gotta get to the coast," Daryl tells you, his voice rough with thirst. You nod, still disoriented, but he appreciates that you don't fight him when he lugs you off the boat and drags you towards shore.

You and Daryl crawl on the sand, fingers ripping into the sand in an effort to ground yourselves. Sand sticks to the icy water soaking the two of you. Daryl spots a little sand bucket full of water ahead, and rushes to it. After a single eager gulp, he hurriedly hands it off to you. He watches the water drip down your chin, giving himself just a moment to relish in the fact that you're ok and breathing.

You and him had gotten in quite a bit of trouble since venturing off in an effort to find his brother. It ended in getting taken aboard a huge boat and— thankfully— escaping on a much smaller paddle boat. And now your landed on an unfamiliar shore.

"Where do you think we are?" You ask, breaths still heavy and fast. Daryl shrugs, leaning back onto his hand and grabbing the bucket when you offer it.

After a quick moments rest, you and your partner are back on your feet. You both wander the area, looking around for any sign of where you could be. The town you end up in is small. Buildings surrounded by the sea. It looked like it would've been a spot out of a travel pamphlet from before.

"Y/N," Daryl suddenly says, looking towards a sign. You step next to him, eyeing the sign to try and read the words through the age and decay.

"Is that..." you start, examining the unfamiliar language. "French?"

You and Daryl both look towards each other, both having an expression that could only be described as exhaustion. It seemed to Daryl that you and him just couldn't catch a damn break. How the hell would he get you home?

"Looks like we're not in Kansas anymore," you say, deadpan. Daryl's frown deepens and gives you a halfhearted thwack on the shoulder for you ill-timed joke. "Tough crowd."

You and Daryl spend that night in a little fishing boat. It's long abandoned, dirt and dust covering every surface, but it gives some cover from the biting wind. After eating a fish Daryl caught, you both huddle together under layers of blankets on a little cot. You're wrapped around him and despite the exhaustion that drapes over you, you still can't sleep.

"Judith would like that," you mumble. Daryl follows your eyes and sees you gazing at the penguin plush. "She's never seen a penguin. Well, just in books."

Your voice is quiet, thoughtful. Daryl knows what your thinking about, he's good at that now. After so many years with a person, you can almost read their mind. And Daryl knows that you're missing Jude and RJ, especially after listening to that tape. That you're thinking about the childhood they're missing out on, about trips to the zoo and seeing penguins, begging their parents to buy them an overpriced souvenir. The childhood they should have.

The childhood you and Daryl are missing out watching.

"We'll have to bring it back for them," he says. You don't say anything back. "I'm gonna get you home, alright?"

You tilt your head to look in his eyes. Daryl hates that he sees fear and worry in yours. He tries to ebb it away with gentle caresses.

"I'm gonna get you home," he repeats, firmer and while looking you in the eye. You relent, nodding and smiling softly at him, and he leans to brush your lips against his in a silent promise.

It seems the bad luck that hangs over you and Daryl like a dark storm cloud isn't planning on dissipating anytime soon. You and Daryl venture deeper into the city and stumble upon a big abandoned building.

     "Maybe I should've taken French in high school," you murmur, eyes squinting at the unrecognizable words written on a sign outside of the building. Daryl just shrugs, and carefully begins to enter the building.

     It ends up being filled with walkers. Guttural groans and decomposed flesh surrounds you and Daryl. You and Daryl are taking care of your own groups, dividing and— hopefully— conquering.

     "Daryl!" You screech out, the sound of a body dropping following. "These are not normal walkers!"

     Daryl looks at the dead walkers and sees what you mean. Something leaking from them is burning the ground. Acid.

     It's not a second later Daryl is grabbed roughly, acidic fingers clamping down on his forearm. He lets out a yelp in pain, one that makes you kill your batch of walkers in half the time with the help of the extra adrenaline. Daryl sees you in the corner of his eye rushing towards him after he's able to pry the walker's hand off his arm.

     "Oh my God," you say, breathlessly staring at the burned hand print on his arm. Your fingers shake violently as they move to touch him, before they move away again. You look up at Daryl, his face pinched in pain. Tears collect at the corners of your eyes.

     Daryl's heart clenches in his chest at the sight of you, nervous and scared. Teary eyes and trembling like a leave. He reaches up to lightly dab at a few stray tears that leaked from your eyes, shaking his head.

     "I'm fine," he says, slowly and quietly. "Just a burn, I'm not infected or nothin'." His fingers now stroke your hair, trying to get that terrified look out of your eyes. "It's somethin' on the walkers, it's not a scratch or bite. 'M fine."

     You nod, and throw your arms around his waist. He hugs back without a thought, hiding a wince when your coat brushes against his wound. He doesn't mind, he'll take the pain if it means your arms are around him, holding him so tight he's afraid he'll lose feeling in his legs any second. Your face is buried in his chest, and he leaves little kisses on the crown of your head.

     When you finally pry yourself away, you're quick to pull a bandage out of your bag. Forcing Daryl to sit, you tentatively wrap the bandage around his arm. You place a sweet kiss on the outskirts of his bandage when you're done, smiling at Daryl when he huffs out an amused snort.

     You were always like that. Kind, and attentive. Always putting him and your family ahead of yourself. It was something that Daryl fell in love with first all those years ago. Although it tends to worry and annoy him on occasion.

     "I'm gonna be fine, alright?" Daryl reassures when he sees the worry isn't completely washed away from your face. You nod, lacing your fingers with his and leading him out of the building.

     Just when it seems the day couldn't get worse, it does. You and Daryl find a girl with her father, and thankfully she knows enough english for a trade. A little med kit for some apples and rabbit.

     What at first seems like the first score of the day ends in Daryl and his partner sprawled out on the damp ground. Both have matching knots on the side of their heads and Daryl a gunshot wound, yet both look and reach out towards each other. Daryl's eyes slip close before he can help it.

Daryl wakes to a start. His limbs and eyes are heavy, and he hears a woman talking— chanting?— in French. His eyes are blurry, but he's pretty sure he's looking at nuns surrounding him, one of them— the one that's speaking— has a heated fire poker, so hot the tip is a bright orange.

He yelps and shouts, trying to break free from the women's grip, but between being outnumbered, in pain, and exhausted, he doesn't move much. Daryl's eyes fly around the room in a panic, trying to catch sight of you, but there's no such thing. Once the molten poker hits his skin, the pain blinds him and he's out again.

Daryl wakes again much later. Maybe hours, maybe days later, he's not sure. He spots a nun pouring water from a basin in a large tub. Despite his body not functioning up to speed, he sits up anyway. At that moment, she turns towards him.

"You feeling better?" She asks, a foreign accent marking her words.

"Where is she?" He grumbles out, voice like sandpaper. "Y/N, where is she?"

"She's in another room, eating. She came to see you, you were still sleeping," she explains. "I'm Isabelle."

Isabelle explains the situation to Daryl. How the cauterization to prevent the spread of infection from that acidic walker, where he was, and how you were, all while removing the bandage on his arm. She makes some other conversation, but Daryl is mostly quiet, too busy with thoughts of you. However, Daryl isn't panicked, just concerned.

He doesn't feel the woman or any nuns at the abby had ill intent. They could've just left you both to die, but they didn't. Instead taking total strangers back to their home. Daryl does just want to see you. To make absolute sure you're safe and alright.

After Isabelle leaves, he takes her up on her offer of a bath. He can see the steam from here, and after the freezing cold ocean water from the other day, he needs it. He also doesn't need you worrying about his wound, so keeping it clean was a good first step.

He makes it quick and hasty, already out with a towel when Isabelle enters with clean clothes. Daryl feels a little exposed, only dressed with a towel, but Isabelle is quick to exit once she gives him the clean clothes.

Daryl hurries out the door once he's dressed. He doesn't really know where he's going, but he follows the noise of chatter. He peeks his head in the room he hears the most noise and spots you, talking with a couple of the nuns and eating soup.

"Hey, Angel," you say, dropping your spoon in your soup when he makes his presence known. You stand, placing your hand on his cheek and pressing a sweet kiss to the side of his mouth.

"You alright?" Daryl asks, tentatively touching the bruise on your temple. You nod, smiling when you kiss his wrist.

"Isabelle said your arm looks good." You sit down and Daryl follows suit. One of the women places a bowl in front of him, and he's quick to dig in and slurp up his soup.

     "Told you, 'm fine."

     "I know, but if I don't worry about you, who will?"

     Isabelle gives you and Daryl a tour of the convent. She introduces Laurent to you both and explained the miracle of his birth, how he's special. Daryl scoffed, but he could tell you were a little intrigued with Isabelle's plan of getting him to a better place. Somewhere safer and where he could be happier.

     Daryl would've flat out refused if it weren't for you. You convinced him to help out the women on their journey. Isabelle promised she'd help get you and Daryl back home, or at least access to a radio. It didn't seem very promising, but one look at you and he folded.

     You always called him your angel, but in truth, you're the real angel.

After all the introductions and outlining the plan of getting Laurent to wherever he needs to be, it's dinner time. Laurent was a strange kid. He liked to talk and sometimes he'd get all philosophical and ask Daryl deep questions. His odd questions and badgering took up most of the day. You mostly just giggled at Daryl and his usually half-assed answers.

At dinner, the other nuns regard Daryl nervously. You had quietly joked to him that's it's his 'intimidating energy,' as you called it.

"But don't worry, I find it really hot," you had said in a whisper while the nuns set the table. Daryl blushed and moved to hide his face from you, which just made you giggle.

The only ones that speak English are Isabelle, Laurent, and another nun named Sylvie. The three translated any conversation between you, Daryl, and the other women. It was mostly them asking questions to learn about you and Daryl.

"She wants to know how long you two have been married," Isabelle asks, translating a question from the oldest nun, Mother Superior.

"Oh," you had said, stumbling a little. Daryl could feel heat flush his cheeks and ears. "We're not married."

Sylvie and a few of the other women had made a slightly surprised face, and Mother Superior looked just aghast when Isabelle translated.

"Don't you two live together?" Laurent asks, ever on top of things. "And haven't you been together for years?"

"Yeah..." you say with a shrug. "Guess we just never thought to."

"There even a point?" Daryl asks. "No courts, no paper to sign."

It seemed nobody had to translate for the oldest nun this time. Maybe it was his tone or nonchalant shrug while he said it, but it seemed she got the point. She made a noise of astonishment, shook her head while muttering a player and making the motion of a cross. Daryl honestly thought it was a little comical, never did he think he'd be discussing marriage with a bunch of nuns, in an abby, in France no less.

"It's about taking a vow in front of God," Sylvie says. "A show that you love each other and you'll be together forever."

Daryl could feel the awkward tension radiating from you in waves. You moved your food around your plate, slightly unwilling to make eye contact with the nuns. Daryl just shrugged. He knew he loved you, he knew he would be with you forever, he knew you felt the same, he didn't need a big show to prove that.

Daryl never gave marriage a huge thought. Before he met you, he was sure he'd never even fall in love. After you, he was so deeply head over heels for you, he never thought he needed a big wedding to prove how much he loved you. He showed it everyday, at least he tried his best to. Maybe he wasn't the most romantic or emotionally inclined, but he tried to make you feel loved and happy.

Besides, you'd never hinted at marriage. If you did, maybe it'd be a different story. You'd never said you wanted a wedding, did you want one? Did you want to be married, and thought he wouldn't want it? Daryl's not sure.

Now that he's thinking, really thinking during the semi-awkward silence that replaced the once lively conversation, maybe you did want marriage. Daryl remembers all those years ago when Maggie and Glenn married. They didn't have a huge wedding or anything, just a ring and a small celebration with some scavenged champagne. He remembers how happy you looked, how fondly you gazed at the happy couple.

He remembers how he made a comment similar to the one he just made, about no point of being married. You had nudged his shoulder and told him to be quiet, that it was romantic. That it didn't matter there were no marriage licenses or wedding gowns or honeymoons, they were happy and in love. How they just wanted to be husband and wife, just because they were committed to one another.

Daryl looks at you seated next to him, and it's like something changes. Maybe calling you his wife wouldn't be so bad.

Isabelle leads you and Daryl to separate rooms. After the big news of you and Daryl being unwed, Mother Superior didn't want you both staying in the same room. It was bizarre to Daryl, but you wanted to respect their wishes. So he conceded, and allowed Isabelle to take you away from him.

You blowed him a dramatic kiss as you walked away, like you were going off to war or something. He played along anyway like he always did with you, grabbing the kiss and bringing it to his chest just to see you laugh.

Now, laying in bed without your steady presence beside him was unwelcome. He felt strange, like he was missing a vital part of him. He couldn't even remember the last time he's slept without you. Even those years he was out in the woods looking for Rick, you were there, always right beside him.

He tossed and turned, fiddling with a little scrap of stained white fabric he had clutched in his hand. It was from his angle wing on his vest. A small piece had peeled off after the long trip in the ocean, and he had shoved it in his pocket without thinking.

Eventually, Daryl stood. Maybe he'd get in trouble with the nuns in the morning, but he doesn't care, he needs you. He carefully pushes open his door before making his way towards your room. He enters your room without knocking, letting out a relived sigh when he sees you laying in bed.

"You didn't even knock," you say, sitting up in bed. "What if you had just barged into one of the nun's rooms? Don't think they would've liked it much."

"I must have God on my side." You snort and shake your head. He walks over to you and sits on your bed, pushing you back into the pillows.

"What're you doing here anyway? Got lost?" You tease, a smirk on your face that Daryl kisses away.

"Missed you," he murmurs against your lips, before pulling away just barley to trail feverish kisses from your jaw to your neck. You groan.

"They won't like this much you know," you say, heated breaths fanning out across the top of Daryl's head. "We should respect their wishes. We're in their home."

"Whatever, we're helpin' them with their mission, ain't we?" You push Daryl away lightly, and so he pulls away. You're giving him a concerned look that makes Daryl worry.

"Yes, but they're also helping us. They're helping to get us home, and I don't wanna risk anything." Daryl sighs, the breath causing your messy hair to flutter slightly. He smooths it down tenderly.

"I'm gonna get you home. Don't gotta worry." You grasp his hand playing with your hair and kiss his fingertips. He curls his fingers around your hand and lifts it to his lips, placing careful kisses to your knuckles.

"I do hate sleeping without you," you admit, voice quiet. He nods, placing your hand gently to rest on your stomach, still holding it.

"Guess I just have to marry you then." Daryl had intended it as a joke, but realized he was serious about halfway through. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he gazes at you, hair fanning out on the pillow with an adorably confused look on your face.

He's not sure what took him so long to realize. But he's never been so sure of anything in his life. He wants you to be his wife. You're already his everything, his forever, he wants it to be official. He wants to hear you call him your husband, he wants you to be his and him yours in every sense there is.

"Are you joking?" You ask, a furrow to your brow and a tilt to your head. He shakes his head, his insecurities begin to evade his mind.

"I love you," he starts, unable to meet your questioning gaze. "I never thought about marriage, never thought anyone could love me like that." You push his hair from his face and caress his cheek, regarding him with a look so full of love he knows he's made the right choice. "But I wanna do it with you, if you want."

"Why now?" You sit up, pressing your palms on either side of his face. "Is it because of what the nuns said?"

"Kinda." He shrugs, and you smile softly.

"Daryl, I don't need us to be married to know you love me. You show me that every day. You don't need to prove anything." He shakes his head, holding your hands in place by grasping your wrists loosely.

"I want to be married to you. I never really thought about it before this s'all, but I do," Daryl confirms, holding your gaze steadily now. "I wanna be with you forever. You're everything to me."

Tears collect in your eyes and Daryl is terrified he messed up, that maybe you didn't want this. Maybe this would feel too possessive to you, like you'd be tied down, like he'd be owning you. Before his thoughts can spiral too out of control, you kiss him. You kiss him so hard and so passionately, Daryl almost falls backwards.

"I'd love to marry you." Daryl grips at your hips and you clutch at his shoulders. He rests his forehead against yours.

"I don't have a damn ring," Daryl says. He pulls out the little scrap of fabric from his vest, taking hold of you hand. He ties the little scrap around your finger, rubbing over your ring finger when he's done. "That'll have to do for now."

"It's a piece of your vest?" Daryl nods, and you grin so brightly, you almost light up the entire room. "Now I always have a little part of my Angel with me."

     Daryl smiles, his chest feeling warmer than ever before. He shoves you down into the bed and follows quickly, pulling you up to lay on his chest. You laugh and admire the makeshift ring adorning your left hand.

"You're my Angel."

     Daryl's eyes crack open to the sound of a door creaking and is immediately met with bright sunlight. A deep sigh is what causes him to open his eyes fully. Isabelle is standing by the door, fresh clothes in hand with a disappointed look on her face.

     "Mother Superior won't be happy," she says. Daryl looks to your form curled up next to him, and he couldn't care less. You roll over to face Isabelle and grin so brightly, Daryl's heart might just burst.

     "But we're married," you say, your voice still sleepy, while throwing out your hand from under the covers to show off the 'ring.' You look so proud Daryl can't help but smile. "Got married last night."

     "What?" Daryl isn't sure if she looks more confused or shocked. "You got married? Last night?"

     "Yeah," Daryl replies nonchalantly, throwing his legs off the bed to stand.

     "You need someone to marry you, you can't just decide your married." Isabelle looks amused now as she places the clothing on the dresser.

     "What for?" You ask, sitting up. "Like Daryl said, there's no marriage licensing or anything."

     "Yes, but you could still be married in the eyes of God," Isabelle says, a thoughtful look on her face.

     "We ain't catholic," Daryl says, reaching to grab the clothes Isabelle placed on the dresser. She pushes his hand away.

     "Humor us," she says, getting met with confused looks from both you and Daryl. "Let us put something together. I'm sure no one will mind a little wedding."

     You and Daryl tried to refuse, but it seems nuns are very convincing. Or maybe it's just because they're all women. Soon you and Daryl are getting set up in makeshift wedding attire. Daryl is getting prepped up in the clothing closest to a tux while nuns are creating a dress for you. Sewing and pinning up a white garnet they found to resemble something of a wedding gown.

     Daryl was less than ecstatic, but he saw how happy you looked when you rushed by him to get fitted into the gown and he was suddenly ok with it all. The next time he saw you, it was while he was at the alter.

     The women had made a trail of different fabrics to make a sort of carpet trail to the alter. Your white dress stands out against the multitude of colors of the carpet. Daryl's eyes flit from your dress to your sparkling eyes to your contagious grin before settling on the fabric tied in a knot around your finger.

     He can't take his eyes off you.

     Even when you finally make it across from him and Mother Superior begins to read from the Bible can he focus on anything but you. The foreign words are the last thing on his mind.

     "I love you," you mouth to him, smiling with tears glistening your eyes. Daryl feels tears begin to prick at his own.

     "Love you, too," he mouths back. He's nudged slightly by the young boy, and that's what brings him back. "Huh?"

     "Say 'I do,'" Laurent mumbles, causing the nuns to laugh.

     "Oh, yeah, I do," Daryl says, feeling a blush creep up his neck. You smile at him, causing him to smile back and forgetting the slight embarrassment. After a few more words read from the holy book, the officiate turns to you.

     "I do," you say with a watery laugh. A tear finally falls and Daryl is swift with wiping it away. After a few more words, the book is closed, and she motions for you to kiss.

     Daryl crashes his lips to yours without a seconds hesitation. You hum into his lips and Daryl can feel your tears drip down. He pulls away, to realize it was his own tears he felt. You grin happily, brushing away his tears with your thumbs.

     "We're married," you say, quietly. Daryl feels his heart miss a beat and he can't help press another firm kiss to your lips.

     It's decided the journey to deliver Laurent will begin tomorrow. One day of resting up and celebrating the newlyweds. You're the happiest Daryl has seen since you left to look for Rick. He keeps finding himself grinning to himself seeing you so happy, chatting with Isabelle and Sylvie and eating delicious food. Even indulging in a little homemade wine tucked away for special occasions.

     "Hey, you," you whisper, winding your arms around Daryl's neck. You teeter on your feet, just a bit tipsy on the wine. Your grin is so happy and free, so infectious, Daryl grins back. "Having fun?" He shrugs.

     "I like watching you have fun." He twirls a little piece of your hair. You frown, Daryl rubs it away with his thumb which results in a kiss on his finger tips. "I'd have more fun if we were alone," he murmurs in your ear, kissing the shell. You smack him lightly on the shoulder and giggle.

     "This is a house of God, Daryl." He shrugs at your teasing. You rock back and forth between your left and right foot, fingers twisting around the curls at the back of his neck. Suddenly, you look thoughtful as you gaze at him.

     "What?" He questions.

     "I just wish Carol and Maggie could be here, our family." You shrug, looking down. "I miss them, Jude and RJ, too. All of them." He kisses your forehead and gently lifts up your chin to meet his eyes.

     "We'll have to have a party when we get back." Daryl kisses your forehead again, lips moving down to your temple.

     "Yeah, ok," you say, nodding and smiling again, happy at the thought of celebrating with your family. "A nice party after our honeymoon."

     "Honeymoon?" Daryl asks with a smirk. "Where do you wanna go?"

     "Uh, we're in France," you say, a look on your face screaming 'obviously.' "We're going to Paris on our way to deliver Laurent, right?" Daryl nods and snorts.

     "You think the Eiffel Tower's still standin'?" You drop your hand from the back of his neck to poke his side, a shocked expression on your face.

     "Don't burst my bubble! Of course it's still standing!" You exclaim. Daryl concedes and nods, lifting his hands palms out to put them in a surrendering stance. "I've always wanted to go to Paris. I never imagined I'd have a destination wedding."

     Daryl never imagined he'd have a wedding in general. Never thought he'd find someone so loving and amazing as you. As Daryl gazes lovingly into your eyes, hands spread out on your back, he knows he's made the right choice.

[immeasurablesaladagere]

Hiii!! I hope you are doing good I was wondering if you could do a little!house and little! Wilson fic? I would love to see how they both interact when they both regress (House would still get on Wilson’s nerves even when they’re regressed in my imagination lol) and I’m not sure but I think Cuddy could be their caregiver in this situation!

Sorry if it’s too specific it obviously doesn’t have to be exactly like I put it! Your writing is always amazing I love it 😭

Here you go! Small TW if mentions of bugs make you uncomfortable :)

-----

Word Count: 973

Summery: Cuddy makes a regressed Wilson and House play outside and House decides to get even.

-----

House whined as his and Wilson’s game of Mario Kart suddenly stopped and a big text box appeared. Controllers disconnected. To resume, please plug in your controller.

“Cuddyyyy…”

Cuddy stood over them, controller cables in her hand. “I think that’s enough TV for today, don’t you? It’s a beautiful day, you two should be outside. God knows you don’t get any sunshine at work.”

House flopped back on the carpet and groaned with his entire body. He didn’t want to go outside, there was nothing to do out there. Stupid Cuddy and her screen time. 

“Okay.” Wilson shrugged, not nearly as disappointed as he should have been. House couldn’t believe he was giving up video game time so easily, but Wilson always was a goody-goody.

“Come on, House. Up you get.”

“Ffffine.” He huffed, dragging his feet every step of the way. Cuddy’s backyard was okay. It was pretty big, with a really tall tree he didn’t know the name of in the back by the fence. There was also a bucket of ‘outside toys’ in a plastic bucket, but he couldn’t use a bunch of it. He couldn’t run to play with the sports stuff, or jump with the jumprope, he didn’t like catch because that was too boring and Cuddy wouldn’t let him make dirt castles with the buckets because it would wreck her garden. 

He kicked at the grass. “What are we s’posed to do out here?”

Cuddy sat down on one of the patio chairs in the sun and patted the one next to her. “Well, you could come sit with me—“

“Ew, no.”

“Or you could find something non-destructive to do in the bucket. I just bought some new   farm animal toys.”

Wilson’s eyes lit up, because of course they did, because he was smaller and liked all that kiddie stuff still, and he abandoned House immediately to go play with the animals in the grass.

“Traitor.” He grumbled, and hobbled over to the bin. Nothing looked very fun. Cuddy looked after so many of them, how did she not have anything cool? He would rather sit in the dirt and wait for the ants to eat him than play with Cameron’s raggedy Barbies.

Then something in the bin finally caught his eye. A bunch of little plastic containers with air holes poked in the top that Thirteen used to find bugs. The perfect revenge plan formed in his head, and he grinned mischievously. I’ll teach Wilson not to be such a goody-goody.

So off to the tree he went with the containers. Behind the trunk, hidden from Cuddy’s sight, was a patch of dirt that was still wet from the rain the day before. Perfect. He carefully knelt down and began digging.

-

House stared proudly down at his collection of containers. The smallest one had a bunch of ants in it that he had plucked from the tree trunk, in the second biggest were five ladybugs that kept escaping, so he had to put the lid on, and the biggest, his favourite, was full of dirt and a handful of wriggly worms. Most of them were just little, but there was one big papa earthworm who was gonna be perfect for his plan.

Somehow Cuddy hadn’t called for him yet, but he knew he would have to put his plan into motion quickly or she would ruin it. He peeked around the tree trunk to see Cuddy still sitting in the chair. Her eyes were closed, which meant she was either sleeping or just had her eyes closed. He listened really closely and heard her snore quietly. Asleep. Go time.

He tucked the two small containers behind the tree and then walked over to Wilson, hiding the worm container behind his back.

“Wilson!” He whisper-shouted, “I found something cool, look.” He held out the yogurt container.

Wilson shuffled closer. “What is it?”

House opened the container, reached in dramatically, then threw the papa earthworm directly at Wilson’s face. Wilson yelped and fell back, scrambling to get the worm off of him, and House burst out laughing.

“You like him? His name’s Benjamin!”

Wilson pouted and threw Benjamin back angrily. “I’m telling Cuddy!” 

“Wait!” House looked back at Cuddy, who had managed to stay asleep the whole time. “Help me prank Cuddy.”

Wilson looked back and forth between Cuddy and the worms. “But…”

“C’mon, don’t be a baby. It’ll be funny.”

Wilson looked conflicted, then smiled. “Okay. What are we gonna do?”

“Go get the other containers behind the tree, and be really quiet. C’mon, quick!”

Wilson returned with the other containers, House dropped some of the worms into them both, then they snuck up to Cuddy.

“Okay, on three, you’re gonna wake up Cuddy, and then we dump the bugs on her lap. Ready?” House whispered. Wilson nodded.

“One… two… three!”

“Cuddy! Wake up!”

The second Cuddy opened her eyes the containers tipped over, spilling creepy crawlies all over her lap. It took her a second to realize what they’d done, but once she did, she shrieked. 

“Oh! Oh my god! House! Wilson!” She shot out of her chair and flailed, screaming louder every time she saw another bug crawling on her shirt, and House and Wilson giggled like lunatics. By the time the chaos finally came to an end, Cuddy looked like she had just run away from a hungry bear; frazzled, covered in dirt, and very, very unhappy.

“You two—! You—!”

“What?We’re playing outside!” House said innocently.

“I said non-destructive!”

“But we didn’ break anything. Jus’ played with the bugs!” Wilson said, voice so genuine that even Cuddy wouldn’t want to ruin their fun now. Maybe he was good for something after all.

Cuddy just made a face like a gasping fish, then took a slow, deep breath. “…How about some video games?”

[din0lover]

Funny post of all the little "ghosties" talking moments in the captions

(It's ccbbh but also there might be some missing I did the best I could in trying to get it all lol enjoy!)

-

Signs of Pomme and Ramon

/

"Fudge I missed the sign"

"Maybe bad should stay dead a bit longer"

"Stress never killed anybody, except for the people it did"

"Isn't that cannibalism " (referring to pomme apple die comment)

-

Zinc cave

"Richas is going to die" (richas digging straight down)

" Oh Fudge not this one" (referring to cave they went into go collect zinc)

"This is limestone not zinc"

"Look how pretty"

"Let's go mine proceeds to mine limestone"

"These statements are now canonical ghosty thoughts"

"The block looks chewable" (referring to the limestone block)

/

"Canonical ghosty bathroom break"

"And canonically left alone" (after he got back from the bathroom break)

/

"There are going to be so mad at us when the eggs die" (after richas digs straight down deeper into the cave)

"Ghosties have bad hand eye coordination" (after falling in lava)

"50 zinc that's enough to make 1/10 of a drill"

"Free stuff"

"Lucy what are you doing over there"

"Later peasants I'm warping away, what the Fudge, that's crazy" (referring to richas warping out of the cave)

-

Leaving Zinc Cave

"All your stones belongs to me"

"Give me your stone I'm going to eat it all"

"Nom nom nom nom nom nom"

(ramon and pomme digging up out of the cave)

/

"Well this is the end for me I'm afraid"

"Should've taken those swimming lessons"

(Water bucket was placed down for a split second this guy is so dramatic LOL)

/

"You know, I'm holding sugar cane, it's magic, but why am I holding sugar cane? Is it a coincidence Or is there a higher meaning to it? Not even caption viewers will find out"

/

"Yep some of you realized all stream it was me reading the signs."

"Yep what you thought it was magic?, no I was reading them."

"The entire time thats where the captions come from."

"No way /j"

"The poor people without the captions right now."

/

That's it Ramon takes one call, I'm going to narrate their actions"

"Pomme looks around aimlessly "

"Ramon thinks I'm done cave mining it's probably best to leave"

"Pomme thinks Fudge dirt that means we're close to the surface but I hate digging through it."

"Don't worry we're good"

"Now it's off to do more adventuring"

"Sorry I'll stop being silly"

-

Finally out of the Zinc Cave

"You got this

You got this

You got this

You got this

You got this

You can do it"

"Freedom of fudge, worst ad time ever"

"Actually no we had some horribly timed ads."

"Dumbo, the moon, why did it translate it to that? I think there was a mistranslation chat."

"And pomme sacrifices Ramon to the squids" (Ramon fell out of the boat)

"Hey guys maybe we should take that zinc to Badboyhalo house instead"

-

Repairing the town of Fobo farm

/

Richas : "I mean I am not human I don't know, that works with tio dad and my dad's"

Ccbbh aka "ghosties" : "he's onto something "

/

"Huh bird"

"Nosy ghosties"

"Lucy Hi"

"So wholesome"

/

"3 minutes till restart"

"One minute before void"

"Toxic not the backup"

"The lore killer"

/

"Sometimes I still hear his voice" (referring to bbh it's almost like we can still hear him in the after life)

/

"There comes a day in every pet owners life" (referring to richas killing his caged amethyst crab)

/

"It is a good way to keep memories, if only bad was doing that." (That vile man he needs to be put in a panini press)

/

"I'm running out of sad music"

/

"Guys stop trolling the Chatters and telling them I died IRL"

"I can still hear his voice"

/

-

Group hug for all

/

"And it's a group hug"

"Get down here richas it's group hug time"

"Oh my gosh he is dying"

"Okay now he is good"

"Group hug richas, don't let him go up"

"Don't let him wiggle his way up there"

/

"He can't get away from The Angst train,there's a train and it's full angst"

"I love angst"

"I'm going to be honest this has been a very wholesome night but it is a lot of angst."

"Choo Choo"

-

Richas getting down again

/

"Crazy people oh my gosh"

"Gave me a heart attack right now"

"Oh my gosh they actually just trying to kill him in front of me"

"That's crazy"

"Where's you armor ?! He's not wearing armor!"

"Oh my gosh just let him die, finish him now"

"That be the worst time for a creeper to just slither its way and explode right next to them "

"Like actual nightmare fuel"

"You're going to give me a heart attack"

"He's going to die chat like if we don't see the death and no one else is online it doesn't really happen."

"It's like a tree that falls in the forest, and no one around here it doesn't make a noise."

"Pretty sure that's how it works chat mathematically "

-

Slight BBH love <3<3

- "I'm sorry chat thus has been a long stream, I'm trying to keep myself chucking along, I'm enjoying it but it is a long stream."

"Two really long streams in a row"

(Peace and love ccbbh thanks for the long streams with the eggs and other memes <3<3)

-

Back to richas and his vendetta against group hugs

/

"Rebel Richas, no hugs, hugs are for the weak"

/

"Oh my gosh they're going to actually kill him, I need to make sure to look away before he dies"

*looks away*

"There we go"

"If I dont see the death it doesn't count"

/

"This is like a slightly unhinged nature documentary "

"Bros really going to fall and die literally if he's not careful oh my gosh"

/

*commentating*

"Quick everyone lets vandalize their building even more."

/

"Oh my gosh please just don't do it."

"He's going to drown."

"No don't die drowning underwater it will kill you instantly "

"Stop"

/

"Bro really said that I'm going to maybe die someday and choose that day to be today."

"He's crazy chat, oh my goodness."

"Oh my goodness please holy crap."

"Let me build or I will die, thats your only two choices here" (even after death bbh still having beef with richas that's crazy)

/

"Yippee!"

/

"Bro better-" ( looking to see if richas is wearing armor and then proceeds to find out he's wearing diamond pants)

"I've been wearing pants this whole time. "

"Someone who doesn't have their cosmetic armor off and they just see pants walking around."

/

"Mimi"

-

Back home

/

"Confused but following "

"Where am i?"

"He's still not wearing armor either "

-

Fin (I just realized that didn't bbh say he be recording his audio too? I just transcript all this for nothing I'm done on a serious note though it was fun to read the captions and hope you find slight entertainment in what I was able to capture lmk if I missed any which I probs did well im off) (also forgive me if I did some misspelling I did this really late)

Extra clip:

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Hiii! Could you write full headcanon for the M6 with an MC who is the embodiment of the “cute but intimidating” trope please? They’ll smile, wearing cutesy stuff, one second and will annihilate (verbally or physically) someone to defend themselves/their loved ones. I mainly thought of this because I think some of them (Ilya) would be head over heels for someone like that lol

The Arcana HCs: M6 with a cute but intimidating MC

~ I hope you don't mind, anon, but the mental image I keep getting is of a lolita with insane martial arts skills so that's the path I'm taking with these XD - brainrot ~

Julian

As suggested, he is head over heels for you

He loves it when you take the lead. And when that means standing up for him and absolutely annihilating whoever was trying to make him feel small or insignificant all while looking like a snack?

He's proposing. He's proposing today.

He also enjoys indulging any and all of your cutesy habits. He has plenty of (fake) pirate's gold to grab that cute top you were looking at, or keep you well stocked with flowers for your shop/apartment

Will play along with however cutely you act or accesorize

The whole south end knows that their dear Dr Devorak has found The One when they seem him out with you, shamelessly sporting a frilly bow with his usual goth aesthetic and practicing "uwu" speech

(you didn't ask him to do either of those things, he's just whipped)

Somebody did, at some point, mention that you and Portia are very similar in your "looks sweet but can easily destroy you" vibes

It sent Julian into a downward spiral that took a week to get him out of

Asra

They are living for the duality

He's all about free expression, so seeing you be so unashamedly yourself is one of his favorite things in the world

Not to mention that they quite like your fashion sense. They have a bad habit of borrowing some of your clothing items without asking

He meant to ask, he just forgot, and that's why you can't find that Hello Kitty bucket hat. Or those sparkly purple hair clips. Or the tie dye crop top. Or the -

You know what, forget it, they will more than make it up to you by picking up whatever cutesy thing they find on their trips for you

He loves it when people underestimate you because it means he gets to watch you prove them wrong

Exactly the kind of person to hint at a troublemaker's imminent downfall, so that once they confront them about it, they can pull the classic "Oh, I can't hurt you. But they can!" with a shit-eating grin

Likes to make frilly collars/sweaters for Faust to wear so she can be an added intimidating fashion accessory for you

Nadia

She is respectfully intrigued

People at her station tend to gravitate towards aesthetics that suggest power, influence, wealth, or education

It's not that she thinks a cute person can't be any of those things (you are clear proof otherwise), but she's just never seen it done before and she's absolutely fascinated by your design choices

The way you portray one trait while consistently exhibiting another is inspiring and she would like to see more of that please

She is going to challenge herself to design a full combat/training outfit for you, in the cutest design she can come up with

Your sword has flowers carved in the hilt and sparkly gemstones in your favorite colors

She gets flustered every time she remembers you prettying up your sword by tying a hair ribbon on it, only to challenge a noble with it two minutes later for being snobby towards you

You're going to need multiple walk-in closets for all of the cutesy clothes and hidden weapons she's about to gift you

Muriel

He's really not sure what to do with you

He appreciates the softness of your aesthetic, and as much as he likes to grumble, your sweet smiles really brighten up his day

But that kind of shiny can be a little intimidating

And then Morga decided to show you some tough love and teach you how to fight, and oh boy. You're terrifying and it's attractive.

To say that he likes you against his will is an understatement but he will be the first to admit that he's glad it happened anyways

He did like seeing how easily you stood up to Morga, though. He's not used to the feeling of being protected

But as much healthy fear and total fondness he has for you, there is one area of his life that he shares with you which he refuses to budge on

And that is his choice in decor for the hut

You want frilly curtains. Muriel doesn't even want windows

He does find that your embroidered pillow is very comfortable, though, so the bed is yours to decorate as you see fit

Portia

Well aren't you just two peas in a pod

You like cute things? She likes cute things! You like to be friendly to everyone? She likes to be friendly to everyone! You like to put the fear of the unholy into people you don't like? OMG, her too!

The whole world is terrified of you, especially after Nadia saw fit to give you two a ship and significant governmental power with the purpose of establishing Vesuvia as a relevant nation

You also only serve to intensify each other's love of aesthetic cuteness

Portia's cottage has reached a whole new level of "cottage core." You have crocheted napkin rings and matching frilly aprons now

You made cookies shaped like cat butts together and Pepi was so offended that she sulked for a whole 20 minutes

The ambassador ship has sunset sails with flowers painted on them (courtesy of Asra)

Oh, and you've started a fight club in the ship's hold for any sailors interested in testing their mettle against the two of you after the day's duties are finished. You and Portia have an unbroken tie

Lucio

You are a person after his own heart

What, you think he doesn't support being extra and scary at the same time? Please, just look at his golden arm. It does not need to have that much detailing but here he is and he's fabulous

And so are you! Between his mother's tribe, being part of an army, and then being a count, he hasn't spent much time around people who are "cutesy" but he finds that he really likes it

Do not take him to look at accessories with you. This man is a magpie and you are 87% of his impulse control. It is a Bad Idea

If it sparkles and it matches you he will wear it (even if it clashes)

He is also very, very attracted to powerful people. He discovered a whole new level of simping the first time you defended his honor against someone who kept mentioning the "ex-count of Vesuvia"

He will now try to lean into any situation that could potentially end with him getting insulted so he can watch you do that again

He will let you put bows in Mercedes and Melchior's fur

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

in your earlier ask you said that yves is pretty much anti child so is he also anti pet? or maybe anti puppy/kitten/baby animal? when you described yves pretty much conditioning reader to dislike kids it reminded me when i got my kitten when she was three weeks old. it was during the lockdown so although i was there 24/7 i was lacking sleep because she refused to sleep on her own and i had to feed her every two hours and when she got older she got hyper and i needed to play with her so she could chill out a little more. i remember as i put her to sleep in my lap for the third time i thought to myself “is this what babies are like? but worse, dirtier and for a longer time?” as much as i love my little fur baby i don’t think i could go through that again so i wonder yves’ thoughts on pets. he gives off those vibes that he hates fur everywhere and can’t stand barking lol. but then again if reader wants a pet im assuming he’ll accommodate somehow.

Pets that need his constant attention like most mammals and noisy animals like the majority of birds are a big no for him.

However, he doesn't mind having reptilians as pets. As long as they're big enough to not lose them. He is indifferent to fishes, but he sees them more as home decor than actual living beings. Something akin to owning lava lamps.

He especially likes snakes. It fits with the aesthetic of his house and they're one of the lowest maintenance pets there is. He would meet all of its physical needs, but other than that, he wouldn't care to spend more time with it than necessary. The snake will be locked up in its enclosure at all times, unless you want to interact with it and he knows that your personality wouldn't lead to trouble. He knows everything there is to know about the snake, yet he sees it as a mere display piece for his living room.

Yves despises insects, he uses the presence of them as a sign that the environment isn't clean, and he does not appreciate having to think his house is filthy. No matter how much research he does on them and how many results show that insects do not necessarily equal dirty, Yves just could not accept them.

He is not squeamish, though. Yves despises them but he is not afraid of them, he knows how to handle a tarantula gently and keep calm when it decides to crawl under his turtleneck. If you threw a bucket of cockroaches on him he would not scream or flail, he would dodge it gracefully before dusting himself off. If any got onto him, he will just pick them off his clothes as if they're paper stickers. Yves will not beat around the bush and try to find a roll of newspaper or a bug spray, he is squashing that colony of spiders with his bare hands.

The way he could simply grab a handful of mealworms without hesitation makes the world think he loves bugs. He doesn't, not one bit.

You could simply shove him in a vat full of writhing maggots and he would come out as if he took a leisure swim in the pool, combing his hair with his fingers to get rid of any leftovers.

Yves would be annoyed more than horrified, lecturing you that pushing him into ponds of worms is rude while he jerks his head to expel the ones that are stuck in his ears.

Not to say he is inept at taking care of them. Yves can be an excellent caretaker for any and every animal. His research skills are unbelievably godly and he loathes the idea of him being perceived as incompetent in anything.

Yves also has a strangely high tolerance for all things disgusting and vile, he could clean up the most brutal bloody murder scene complete with mutilated bodies, decomposition, faeces, urine, vomit and other bodily fluids without wearing gloves or a gas mask; and still have an appetite to eat lunch immediately after. Vacuuming fur and sifting through the litter box is nothing to him. He just does not find much fulfillment in owning a pet. Hence, a pet becomes a parasite in his life, and he detests all things vermin.

If you wanted a furry companion so badly, he will hit the books and review the patterns in your life again.

Do you really want a pet or are you actually just bored? If it's the latter, he could effectively fill your time and make you forget about your desire for an animal companion. He could also negotiate his way out of this too.

Are you someone who hyper fixate on something or someone, then lose all interest after a few months? Then, he could wait it out. Taking care of your newest breathing toy as he counts down until you finally decide to abandon it and move on to greener pastures.

Are you someone who easily gives up at the first encounter of a problem? Maybe all it takes for you to drop the interest entirely is a meow that's too loud or a nip that's a bit too painful. He's going to train the animal to misbehave around you.

Are you someone who is susceptible to peer pressure? He is going to train your pet to misbehave around your loved ones. Manipulate your friends and family into thinking that you're an abusive or neglectful pet owner. He doesn't have to say a word to you, everyone is doing the pressuring for him.

Maybe you would fold under his dour glare and stern words, he can be quite scary at times. That generally reduces anyone into a shivering, crying mess that will not bring up the things that displeases him. This is usually the second-last resort to anything.

Perhaps you're a fierce animal lover and have a strong portfolio of being a cat or dog owner. You wouldn't give your beloved four legged friends up for the world, you will fight for them till your very last breath. Someone with unbreakable maternal/paternal instincts towards your precious fur babies. Giving them up is not in the equation.

Well, he is not above traumatizing you for life.

When push comes to shove, you might find your trusted non-human companions betraying you by lacerating your extremities to the point of no repair. Puncturing your throat with its sharp canines and claws, leaving you to breathe on a ventilator while Yves takes care of you in the hospital.

Or he could direct the attack to someone else, make you liable for lasting damages and having to put your seemingly rabid pets down. You would also have to live with the guilt of knowing you're mainly responsible for disfiguring that poor child's face, changing his life for the worse, just because you "didn't" train them well.

He warned you not to test him. Yves has been lenient and his patience has reached its limits. He may love you and want the best for you, but he is also very, very selfish.

[lokimobius]

🫳 for writing prompt lol

I finally got round to finishing this! Sorry for the wait! This prompt was also sent in by @silentxsymphony!

🫳 Head pats

Also posted to ao3 if people prefer to read there

Ever since freeing Loki from the End of Time, the team had been trying, and failing, to arrange a trip away from the TVA to relax. Finally, their schedules aligned, and much to Loki’s dismay, they unceremoniously voted on going to the beach with a game of rock, paper, scissors.

He’d asked B-15 if they could go during a day that wasn’t so sunny, and she looked him up and down before telling him, quite rudely, if you ask him, that he needed more vitamin D and the sun would be good for him.

And so, that’s how Loki ended up sitting in the godforsaken sand, barking orders to Mobius as he competed in a sandcastle-building competition.

The plan was simple: Mobius would collect the water, and Loki would do the sculpting. After all, they were only building sandcastles, and he was a god; how hard could it be?

The rules: Each team had an hour to create the best sandcastle. After their time was up, they would be judged by B-15, who, Loki might add, was relaxed comfortably under a parasol on a sun lounger, sipping smugly on a cocktail, and not sweating to death under the planet's two suns like he was.

The winning team would win a weekend away on the timeline wherever they wanted, no questions asked. During this, their work would be transferred to the losing team, so they wouldn't have to worry about coming back with excess amounts of files to work through.

Loki needed to win. Everything had been so hectic since he got back that he barely had any alone time with Mobius.

OK, so that was a lie. They spent a lot of time together, especially alone time. He was just too nervous to tell Mobius about his feelings.

He'd had been given his own room upon his return to the TVA, and they spent most ‘evenings’ there together. They didn’t need to suggest hanging out at Loki's anymore; they would simply walk back together after work, and Mobius would make himself at home instantly.

Loki had done many scary things in his life. Most recently, leaving the timelines alone to fend for themselves was one of them. But nothing was as frightening as confronting his feelings and confessing them to Mobius. Loving Mobius was easy. It was expressing that love that he struggled with.

But he planned to use this opportunity to take Mobius somewhere nice, eat delicious food, and pour his heart out to him.

He felt his pulse race in excitement and anxiety. He had to win.

He stole a quick glance at O.B. and Casey, who were casually filling their buckets up with sand and laughing as they patted down what looked like a crumbling wall.

He put the finishing touches on another sandy tower and smirked. Amateurs. They wouldn’t know what hit them.

“Hey, look at you go,” Mobius said, strolling back with another bucket full of water. “It’s amazing! How are you working so fast?”

Mobius’ eyes were wide in astonishment as he placed the bucket down and bent down to admire Loki’s work. He watched as Mobius trailed his fingers across the immaculately sculpted battlements.

“I’m a god, Mobius, and a very smart one at that.”

Mobius hummed, reaching out towards Loki’s head and patting him gently, “Very smart, indeed.”

Even though he was boiling from the sun's rays, he shivered under the weight of Mobius’ hand. There was something about Mobius’ touch that made time feel like it slowed down.

If he weren’t so used to the feeling of time flowing through him, one might think he was using magic in these moments. It was, however, only his mind subconsciously trying to stay in the moment for as long as possible. There was no magic needed when it came to Mobius.

They stayed in that position for longer than was probably acceptable for friends, with Mobius kneeling next to him in the sand, his hand resting on top of his head.

A particularly large wave crashed against the shore, pulling him out of his daze. He realised that he had been staring at Mobius, who was smirking at him, obviously waiting for an answer to a question Loki didn’t hear.

“Um…” He cleared his throat, embarrassed that Mobius had caught him being a love-struck fool. “Did you say something?”

Mobius moved his hand so that he was holding the side of Loki’s face, his thumb brushing against the edge of his lips. His eyes sparkled like that of the sea behind him, though Loki noted that Mobius was significantly more beautiful.

“I said, What do we need to do next, Your Highness?” Mobius patted his cheek and withdrew his hand. Loki tried not to outwardly whine at the loss. He could feel his face burning under Mobius’ attention, and he hoped that he could just blame it on the heat. There were two suns, after all.

“Yes, right!” Loki scrambled to his feet to take a step back, taking in his hard work as he did so. “It’s not historically accurate, but I think this castle needs a moat.”

“I’ll get to diggin’ then.” Mobius beamed.

The last fifteen minutes of the contest passed quickly. Working alongside Mobius was effortless. They’d fallen into a good rhythm of Mobius filling up the moat and Loki focussing his attention on the small details.

Their teamwork was formidable. They were certainly going to win.

---

“You’ve got to be joking, right?” Loki argued, “My– our sandcastle is a replica of Inveraray Castle.”

B-15 shrugged and slurped the last of her cocktail through her straw. “Loki, I don’t even know what that is.”

“You don’t-? Thor and I visited there when we were young and feasted with the Duke of Argyll. Don’t you know the story?”

“Knowing too much about you is more of his thing,” she snorted and pointed towards Mobius, who was standing closely by his side.

“Anyway,” she continued, “O.B. and Casey’s sandcastle had more heart. It was less pompous.”

“Pompous?!” His voice became shrill. “I beg your pardon! O.B. and Casey made a turtle; that’s not even a castle!”

B-15 laughed, “Like I said: more heart.”

He scoffed. This was unbelievable. B-15 hadn’t said anything about being able to build anything other than a castle. If he’d known, he would’ve chosen something far more impressive to make.

He was just about to argue this point when he felt Mobius' hand land on the skin of his shoulder, putting pressure there to ground him. It was a technique that Mobius used often and one that Loki knew all too well.

“Let’s take a walk, shall we?” He said, squeezing his shoulder and then moving his hand down to the small of Loki’s back.

“If we must,” Loki sulked, allowing himself to be guided away from their friends. “I can't believe we have to do O.B.’s work. Good job that I have centuries of experience with quantum engineering.”

“Yes, you do! Thanks, Loki!” O.B. called cheerfully, waving at the pair as they made their way down the promenade.

---

For an island that boasted about its beautiful beaches, there weren’t many people around. In fact, when they reached the nearest café, it was deserted.

The café was small and manned by a single robot who was very excited to see them—they were the first customers of the day. It enthusiastically told them that they were holding a buy one, get one free offer, so Loki’s ice cream was on the house.

After a long time on Mobius’ part deciding what ice cream to have, they made their way to the tables outside to eat.

Two tubs of ice cream sat in front of Loki. On one side of the table, Mobius was digging into his vibrant blue monstrosity of an ice cream. "It's bubblegum flavour," Mobius had told him with a grin. Loki screwed his nose up in disgust.

He had chosen pistachio, which was a much more acceptable green, although he’d hardly eaten any of it, opting instead for ranting and raving about their loss.

“B doesn’t understand,” he complained, waving his spoon in the air. “I chose the perfect castle to be sculpted out of sand.”

Mobius nodded understandingly, spooning a large scoop of bright blue ice cream into his mouth.

“I can’t believe she’d choose their sandcastle over ours—if you can even call it a castle!”

He made eye contact with Mobius just as he slid the spoon out of his mouth slowly, his tongue lapping against the underside to make sure he didn’t miss a drop of ice cream.

“I had great plans for our timeline getaway.” He grumbled, mixing his ice cream so that it became soupy.

“What kinda plans?” Mobius asked, licking his lips.

“Well, I wanted to do something nice for you.” He mused, so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Mobius leaning towards him over the table. “I planned on cooking my favourite Asgardian dish for the both of us, but that idea has been dashed against the rocks of despair.” He flopped his head down onto his arms dramatically, hiding his face from view.

Everything was ruined. He had tried so hard, but yet again, even his best wasn’t enough.

Mobius laughed loudly—that beautiful melodic laugh that made Loki’s heart sing, and some of his frustration washed away. A hand found its way onto his head again, and it patted him apologetically.

“I’m sorry, Loki. Your castle was amazing, but we can go on a date any time you like, y’know? Doesn’t have to be special.”

His head flung up in shock.

Surely he didn’t hear that correctly?

“Date?!” He repeated. His mouth hung open like a fish.

“That’s what it was, wasn’t it?” Mobius smiled knowingly at Loki.

“You knew?”

Mobius nodded. Of course he knew. He always knew. He was always able to read him better than anyone else.

Loki felt daft. He thought that he was being discreet with his plan, but he should’ve known better than to underestimate the way that Mobius knew him.

“I wanted to tell you myself.” He said after a pause, “I wanted it to be special.”

Mobius’ face softened.

“This is special.” He said, reaching out to grab Loki’s hand. He lifted it towards his lips and kissed the back of it softly. “Everything about you is special; how could it not be?”

Loki’s heart lurched in his chest. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Mobius was holding his hand. Mobius had kissed his hand. He replayed the moment in his mind, thinking of the way his moustache tickled his skin and how soft his lips were.

“But if you insist,” Mobius said, leaning back in his chair, hand still wrapped tightly around his own. “Don’t let me ruin your moment. What were you going to say to me?”

His jaw dropped.

“Go ahead,” Mobius smirked, his sea-blue eyes swimming with mirth.

Loki took a deep breath in. This was it. This was the moment he had been waiting for. He had pictured this moment multiple times as he sat on the throne at the end of time. The setting varied, but what he wanted to tell Mobius remained the same.

He knew exactly what he wanted to say.

“I wanted to thank you,” he began. “You saved me. You allowed me to see that I was able to be more; that I could be anyone I wanted. Because of you, I was able to find purpose.” He gestured with one hand to the surrounding beach. “And what a glorious purpose it is.”

The trees swayed in the wind, the sun shone, the tide pulled the sea out and pushed it back against the shore, the clouds moved across the sky, and their ice cream melted. Time continued. All because Mobius believed in him.

Loki met Mobius’ eyes pointedly. “All of this is because of you. You are my purpose.”

Mobius’ breath caught in his throat.

“I’ve never adored someone in the way that I do you. Someone who sees me for who I was, who I am, and who I could be. And what I’d like to be is with you. If you’ll have me.”

“Damn,” Mobius sniffed, squeezing Loki’s hand tightly. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a way with words?”

“Once or twice,” Loki smiled, eyes watery. “I have been told that I have a silver tongue.”

“Ok, does Prince Silver tongue want to come over here and give me a kiss?” Mobius said softly. He reached up to wipe a tear from his eye.

“More than anything.”

Loki leapt from his chair, bumping into the table with his thigh as he landed on Mobius’ lap.

He wrapped his arms around his neck and leant in.

Mobius’ lips were soft and sweet; it was glorious. The flavour of his ice cream lingered upon them, and Loki savoured the taste. Perhaps bubble gum wasn’t so monstrous after all.

They parted, and Mobius rand a hand through Loki’s hair, playing with the ends gently. He gave Loki a quick kiss and said, “I adore you too, if you weren’t aware.”

“I actually wasn’t aware,” Loki said, leaning in close. “Why don’t you tell me again?”

“I adore you,” He brought their lips back together in a light kiss.

“Again.” Loki said against his lips.

Mobius rolled his eyes fondly. “So demanding.”

They held each other close, arms wrapped tightly around one another as they shared kisses and watched the sea wash against the shore.

This time, instead of being apart as time passed, they were very much together.

---

“I still want that meal you told me about.” Mobius said later that evening. They were laying together on a sun lounger watching O.B. and Casey splash each other in the ocean. B-15 lay nearby reading a book.

“Your favourite Asgardian food!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arm around Loki’s shoulder to pull him into his chest. “Now that’s something I can’t miss out on.”

Loki turned to look at Mobius and grinned shamelessly.

He had one last confession to make.

“I never actually learnt how to cook.”

[heartonxions]

plsplspls tell me about your thai shadow gear brain worms some more i wuv dem

UWAA... i will try my bestest .hehe. im so glad you like my thai sg brain worms...

Songkran-isms bc it makes sense

droy uses full buckets of water and it's fucking terrifying because he can absolutely lift all that and knock a bitch (jet) out if he so pleases

also has water backpack he carries around

jet dual wields water guns and likes chasing the tuk-tuks and busses and spray water in them

jet breakdances on the wet road and it really fucking hurts but also its so fun

jet loses his flip flops every year

levy doesn't really care what she uses but one year she did use an empty weed sprayer and still has phantom arm soreness

she pranks the boys by catching them with their guard down and dropping water in their pants

they do love driving around and do a splash drive buy, but they like walking the most

levy also does the most talcum powder applying tbh tbh

they get juvia in it <3 because obv

consider water rave festival au

lily.... stays at home.. jk he has perfect vantage point from above

gajeel thought he could be intimidating but there is no mercy...

Everything Else:

droy can do mean thai yell (you usually hear it during celebrations and the such, i can't explain it because I don't know the actual word for it but in this song the very first cry is what im talking about)

i don't even know if i can do a favorite dish they all like becuase i think they would like all of it lol... spice tolerance from most to least is droy, levy, jet

jet is a SLUT for thai ice cream sandwiches .. they're not like the american ice cream sandwiches btw, it's like ice cream in an actual bun with white bread or something

levy loves loves fish sauce and fruit. that boy loves tart shit ok guys. she gets like the underripe fruits and just eats that with salt, sugar, and pepper like it's nothign (she got gajeel hooked on it)

droy likes agar jellies and coconut rice .. heart..

jet has hella beef with this one thai auntie neighbor but no one can tell if it's genuine or like a secretly agreed on beef

khon masked dancer jet.

nang mai/rukkhadeva (ghost inhabiting a large tree) droy heh.. heh...

ive definitely said this but droy is a great luk thung (thai country) singer,

Songs Because I Can't Help It I LOVE MUSIC

droy and levy vibes tbh (tis also one of the iconic thai new years songs teehee)

jet new years song

jet and levy campy gay hostility

this isn't even major sg to me imi just in awe with how much i hate this song but also keep listneing to (if it sounds like a song talking about twerking, it is. and it's so . .. . /confused)

majorrrrr silly jet vibes (the song is about a scam caller getting pranked or something)

this song is like how i think jet and droy would "flirt" with levy in the way that it is a BIT and they are teasing gajeel, and its just silly (the song is silly and is basically hey girl have you eaten yet!!!!!)

[random-conspiracy]

Hot take of the day:

I think my only ick with cannibalism is that it's very nasty and you can't have your cake and eat it ahashahsa.

For context, my family used to breed sheep and we had a small restaurant, so I'm familiar with the process of killing and eviscerating a big creature. You need to tie up the sheep because obviously is about to die and then you cut its throat so it can bleed and eventually pass away. Is it the best way? I'm not sure I was 8, but it's a long and probably harmless way, a very visual allegoric hourglass.

Now you need to hang the body from the ceiling and do a incision from the neck to the genitals, exposing the ribcage under the fat and skin. And oh boy! This is the big deal, because now its time to open the ribcage and let all the sweet stuff fall down (in a bucket if you're not doing this just for funsies ahshasa).

And this is my ick with cannibalism: The sheep had no time to digest anything, the intestines and digestive sacks are still full of forage, acid and shit and IT'S NASTY AS FUCK. That's just the obvious stuff, then you have other jewels in the mud like the gallbladder (we used to yeet it as far away as we could into the field).

If you ever think about eating intestines or anything at all you need to clean them VERY GOOD and it's hard work. My father was the butcher, my mother cleaned the guts and taking care of the intestines and stomach is AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. All the shit and food waste, washed away.

I'm all money into cannibalism but if you're flappy hands all happy into eating a guy straight up from ground you need to make peace with cropophagy because you're gonna taste some shit ashhsa. Yeah, the human body has not enough fat or muscle to even make a decent steak so you're not even playing that card, you must go for the organs.

And yeah yeah, we all want to romantic symbolism of eating the heart (even when it's fucking impossible to eat the heart because it's like chewing gum but okkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk I guesssssssss), then you go for the lungs and the liver. But honestly, that's it. You don't even touch the intestines or the stomach if you're too comfortable with cannibalism but draw the line at cropophagy ahshshasa.

Hannibal Lecter is the prime example in the other side of the coin, because he KNOWWWWWWS, like he may indulge in some pedestriam eating but com'on hashasadhasa. He kills, he cleans, he cooks. He's absolutely not eating shit because he's too good for casual raw meat. But then, what is the point?

"It was no chicken" Like yeah, don't you say dubfuck but it COULD had been chicken you know? ahsahsha. That's the issue. "This burger has human meat" yes, but's its a burger not different from any other. What's the point here of it being made with human flesh?? The LOLs? No one cares.

At least Lecter is a cuisine master, and can get the morbid x delicious mix right in the point, but if we're serious how well do you know how to cook? And remember we are not talking about your all purpose beef, we're talking about guts. How well can you cook some liver or some stomach in your mid kitchen where you don't even use the oven that much?

The real art here is the bestial consumption of tacking down your prey and ruminate flesh brom bones, soaking wet in blood.

And you must be mentalized for some shit ahshahsasa. (Also, you were absolutely right about it, what's the deal with sacred cannibalism. "Oh, I love you so much I need to eat you and integrate you as a part of me" No, you're not ashahsas. You're shitting all of it in some hours. What a fucking act of devotion idiot ahahsa, shitting the vessel of your love straigh into the toilet, you could do some stuffing idk).

Anyway, what's the conclusion here?

You can't be picky if you're a cannibal. Well, you CAN but com'on. Lecter is not gonna fuck you.

Lungs are the best organs. You stab those little guys, inflate them with water and boom! A cute fountain! They expand like balloons.

[unluckybreadling]

sorta kissy but not really - Christmas edition

this has been in my drafts since JUNE but I decide to actually buckle down and finish it tonight lol, so if it seems disjointed that's why. Merry (belated) Christmas!

based on a kissing prompt

Gingerbread - holiday kisses: under the mistletoe or in front of a roaring fire, their lips taste of nutmeg and gingerbread and holiday cheer 

Nae.giri- semi kink || Ma.koto- 422 Kyo.ko - 370

The holidays were always an odd one for Kyoko. During her childhood, the holidays often were a slow spot for them as detectives being that everyone seemed to be level-headed during that time, Meaning they had nothing new rolling in until after the holidays. During that time, her grandfather was rather irritated by the holiday, often complaining about how everyone was unnecessarily cheery and how bright everything was. Of course, he already crushed any belief that an overweight man in a red suit would come down, eat some cookies and milk, deliver presents, and quickly move on to the next house. He gave her a whole lesson on how that wasn’t possible in any capacity. 

But even then he allowed the house to have one small Christmas tree, usually decorated in gray and purple ornaments; no presents would spawn underneath it, however. The two just exchanged their gifts with one another and went about Christmas as if it were another day. No relatives over, no big grand feast, or watching festive shows. Just her, her grandfather, and the snowy ground outside their home.

Present-day Kyoko could not share the same sentiment.

The loud creak from the couch and slight bounce in the cushion woke her out of her daze. Her gut still felt as though it was a boulder that was weighing her down, the poor thing was stuffed entirely to the brim, hell some of the food was probably stuffed in her throat. Even with her greatly increased appetite, she was no match for her in-law’s extended family and their bigger than “normal” proportions. They were spending the holidays at the head matriarch Naegi’s big mansion, that fact aside she had never seen such a huge table be completely covered with so much food, every free bit of space was quickly covered by another basket or plate of something. Almost as though they were in some medieval Renaissance era with the overabundance of food and their ridiculous proportions. From several buckets of the thickest and largest chicken legs she’s ever seen to about 6 trays full of freshly baked salmon lasagna and even dessert made its way to the dinner table early in the form of several classic log cakes. She deduced that this would take a while.

By her 3rd round of food, the table still seemed full somehow as if the family barely made a dent in the food. Well…that's mostly because the servants kept replacing the dishes each time a plate became empty, and with it depending on the family member they either added more to an already still-loaded plate or just refilled their empty plates. Even then nobody seemed to have slowed down, well everyone but her. Mid way through her fourth meal, she had to tap out. After permanently excusing herself from the dinner table, she slunk away into one of the more secluded living spaces to digest both her dinner and that evenings hors d'oeuvres.

Earlier in the evening, they served appetizers before dinner, but not the typical finger food type stuff. An “appetizer” under Grandma and Grandpa’s Naegi’s roof meant the greasiest, stuffed, and obscenely big most American food she’d ever seen. From four-pattied cheesy cheeseburgers to a cookie cake chock full to the brim with warm gooey chocolate in the middle, to a burger pizza pie. When asking her boyfriend about this unusual appetizer arrangement, he only shrugged saying that his grandparents were just enthralled with this type of food since he was young and made it stable for at least each family member to get their fill of it each time they visited. 

She couldn’t deny she probably overindulged a bit *too* much, should she have eaten about five pieces of that garlic bread grilled cheese? Nope. 

Should she have let her boyfriend practically feed her half of his triple chicken egg bacon burger sandwich? Along with some of his tater tots? God no. But damn was that shit tasty. So tasty she got her own. 

Another unfortunate for her waistline was the fact that the Naegi’s had chocolate treats galore! Everything from Brownies to cookies and double-tiered chocolate cakes, the sparkly jewel all this chocolatey goodness being a chocolate fountain. Although he claims that he had no influence over the extensive menu, she had her doubts considering some of her favorite chocolate treats were coincidentally on the chocolate table.

If you hadn’t told her that this was a Naegi feast of some kind, she would have sworn that the person telling her all this was on a speedrunning mission to see how quickly she could be immobile by some deranged billionaries. But that wasn’t the case here, this was an extended Naegi family's 300-course Christmas dinner, and even though having something like this would make the average person quiver in fear due to sheer amount of food and weight they know they would gain from this event. She however was Kyoko Kirigiri, if death's footsteps don’t scare her she knows nothing will.

Suddenly a sharp pang made itself known in her stomach followed by an ominous loud gurgle that caused her to groan in slight pain. Every slight shift to make herself more comfortable tussled with the tight knot 

..Ok maybe the thought of her stomach bursting right here and now did scare her.. just a little. 

The weight on the couch shifted again followed by another loud creak, and a familiar soft chuckle filled her ears. 

“How ya feeling?” Makoto asked, her eyes sweeping over him, seeing how much damage he did to himself since he had access to an unlimited amount of home-cooked food. However, she did spot a rather large bit of gingerbread cookie in his hand, probably from one of the multiple gingerbread mini-cities displays they had set up.

Despite the cuteness of his festive pullover sweater, it had ridden up revealing his slightly dimpled lower belly. While she enjoyed that sight, it also told her that the button-up underneath was probably missing a button or two. She also knows that his pants were absolutely unbuttoned and unzipped, they’ve probably been so after his 3rd plate of food.

Yet surprisingly he was still mobile.

“Full.” She groaned, “Very full. Your grandma and the chefs did good... too good.” 

“Yeah.” He sighed happily, “I might go back for more… not sure if I want a plate or just a snack.”

“Being a bit gluttonous now are we?”

“It’s Christmas at grandma’s house! I’m allowed to be a fatass and.. your one to talk.”

His hand made its way to her gut, his hand being gentle as he rubbed in a circular motion, a soft smile spread across his face as the reward he got was a soft sigh of relief from the lavender-haired woman. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t unbuttoned your jeans yet?” He inquired, looking near flabbergasted. He could already see that the zipper had slid down revealing a bit of pale skin. From the way the fabric was digging into her, he was sure that a red line had already formed on her skin.

“I-I didn’t want to seem-” She paused momentarily to unexpectedly let out a rather loud belch, coughing awkwardly afterward as she resumed, “Ugh excuse me, sorry I didn’t want to seem rude. I am a guest after all.” 

“Nonsense!” He said, his hand working swiftly to set her belly free, it promptly filling up space in her lap. “Your family here Kyoko, they loved you! Heck, they were questioning me on how you even bothered to give me the time of day.” 

A huff of a chuckle escaped her lips before she could get a word out to respond, she suddenly felt half of his weight smush itself up against her and the taste of gingerbread from his lips on hers. She reciprocated, deepening the kiss a bit she tasted more than just gingerbread surprisingly, there seemed to be a bit of milk there too? Or maybe eggnog?

Their kiss was sharply broken by the sound of a loudly dramatic gasp in the doorway, both looking up to see one of Naegi’s little cousins, a mischievous grin on his pudgy face as he immediately turned and made a run for it. 

Many things didn’t shock Kyoko, after all, she was a homicide detective, you could show her the puddle of flesh and skin that used to be a human person and she wouldn’t even flinch. However, being with Makoto has definitely made her eyebrow raise higher than it should on more than one occasion. Including now, never has she seen him wobble himself up fast enough and make an exit so quickly that she actually felt a breeze go by her.

Looking down she noticed he left his piece of gingerbread on her thigh. Taking it she stared at it for a moment then shrugged as she began to nibble on it, she’s sure he wouldn’t mind her having some of his cookie, they were family after all. 

-- Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!! Thx for readin :)

[leighsartworks216]

The Viper: Rewritten

Chapter One

Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7

Jaskier x gn!Witcher!Reader

AO3 - I recommend reading it there bc it's kinda long lol

Warnings: swearing, brief mention of blood

Word Count: 3753

Masterlist

Tag List Form

You pushed yourself onto your tip-toes. The wood beneath your feet was warmed by the fire in the nearby hearth, and worn down with time. Your eyes barely reached over the tabletop. What miniscule strength you had in your arms aided in the effort, pulling you upward to peer even an inch more over the top.

Your mother chuckled at your efforts. From across the table, she had watched as you wandered from your bedroom, bright-eyed and eager for breakfast. With a smile on her face, she went back to ladling porridge into three bowls. Nimble fingers carefully laid down slices of wild strawberries, adjusting them all until it was perfect. Your stomach grumbled with hunger.

Mother wiped her fingers on a cloth at her waist. Mirthful eyes landed back on you. Finally, she pushed a bowl over to your chair. You wasted no time crawling into the seat and digging into the meal. She chided you softly on your manners, reminding you to use a spoon to eat rather than your hands.

She disappeared through the doorway to give Father his bowl. You almost finished eating by the time she came back inside, face creased with worry. She continued to smile, however, hiding whatever was troubling her.

After breakfast, you got dressed and ran outside into the mid-morning sun to help in the garden. Cold dirt pressed into your knees as you helped your father pull weeds. Sometimes, you wouldn’t be strong enough to rip the unwanted growths from the earth. Wordlessly, as if he always somehow knew, Father swooped in and plucked them out easily.

After weeding, you and Father would go to the well in the center of town. He carried both empty buckets there, but you always carried one sloshing bucket full of water back. Even if you did have to carry it with both hands, and even if water spilled over the sides onto the street.

Neighbors made way as you passed, giving you words of encouragement all the while. Sometimes they would stop Father for a minute to chat. You never really understood what it was they spoke about. Sometimes they would talk about an emperor, or pests that ate their crops. More frequently, they began talking about snakes. You’d never seen a snake before. You hoped you could see one, one day.

With a scoop, you and Father watered the fruits, herbs, and vegetables. You poured water over the base of the plants and watched the dirt soak it up. With wide eyes and a racing heart, you stared in awe as the dirt began shifting. You called your father over, but he just watched in amusement as a frog popped out from under the wet dirt.

As you busied yourself trying to catch the slippery creature, he tended to the farm horse. It was a big horse - much bigger than you - with huge feet and long hair around her ankles. According to your mother, you’d been really scared of it when they first got her. You cried and hid behind their legs, watching the behemoth to see if it would attack you. Now you weren’t as afraid. Sometimes, if you had extra, Father would let you feed her carrots, and she would nudge you with her big snout.

When you caught the frog, Father would tell you to head inside for lunch. Mother didn’t like frogs. You had to let it go.

Mother would already have food prepared. Warm bread that she made herself, sliced and with cheese from the market to go with it. Sometimes there would be fruit with it, or even a bit of fish. She would make sure you washed your hands before you could eat, though, especially if you caught a frog beforehand. She told you once that her cousin would play with frogs and then eat, and she got poisoned and died. It wasn’t enough to scare you from playing with the things, but you didn’t argue as much about washing your hands.

You’d look out the window as you ate. Or, sometimes the door would be propped open and you could look out into the street. Neighbors bustled about in the midday sun. Women washed and hung up laundry. Some worked with looms or spun their own yarn. Men tended to fields, built weapons and tools, or crafted tanned hides into gloves and aprons. They all passed through the village with grins, greetings, and pride in their work.

The village didn’t have much flora aside from the crops people grew. The grounds were formed with uneven dirt or slimy mud, with boots, horse prints, and cart wheels all leaving their marks in the roads. A little patch of grass sprouted in here and there, but it was trampled out within a week.

There was, however, one tree. It wasn’t actually within the borders of the town at all. No, if it had been, it would have been killed off. Rather, it stood up on a hill, visible from the kitchen window. There was forest spread out behind it. Dead or dying grasses and weeds flooded the field before it, in between your house and the oak. But the brown grass never touched that hill. As soon as the earth began sloping upward, the grass was lush and green. You vowed to one day leave the walls of the village, climb that hill, and see that tree up close.

One day.

You finished eating and climbed down from your chair. Mother put a plate in your hand, full of the same thing you’d just eaten, and told you to bring it out to your father. Father took it, ruffled your hair, and sat in a chair propped up against the house while he ate. He never said what he looked at. Your best guess was that he people watched just like you. Or maybe he, too, thought about seeing that great big oak tree up close.

You sat by the fire with your mother. Usually you would unravel and re-roll her balls of yarn back together. More recently, she helped you learn how to sew. She would pass you a shirt or pair of pants with a hole in them and show you how to thread a needle. She’d show you how to stitch up the hole so the thread was barely noticeable. When you inevitably poked your fingers with the sharp needle, she would kiss the boo-boo with a gentle chide to be more careful.

To pass the time, she would ask you about your morning. You would ramble on and on about the weeds and plants, how you carried a full bucket all by yourself, and the little critters you saw. If you didn’t know what they were called, she was always patient as you explained what they looked like so she could provide the name for you. Today you saw a ladybug, a cricket, and a spider. She already knew about the frog.

As the sun went down, Father stopped tending to the garden and animals. He would come inside, grab a bow and a quiver of arrows, and go off hunting in the woods. You asked once if he went by the hill. He just shook his head and said there were too many monsters over that way.

He would come back with fresh-caught game, if he was lucky. This time he carried a large doe across his shoulders. If the weight ached his back and creaked his bones, he didn’t complain.

Your parents worked together to prepare the meat from the catch. Father would skin it and carve out the meat. Mother would make a stew and show him where to hang up the pelt. You weren’t old enough to help out. Mother said she didn’t want you watching, either. Instead, while they cooked, you would go to your room and finish up fixing the clothes.

You’d all eat together once it was ready. Your tiny legs never reached the floor; they kicked freely under the table, almost but not quite scraping the wooden boards. Mother and Father spoke of the world. You didn’t understand. The conversation would slowly make its way to the neighbors and their lives. You understood some things, but other things went right over your head.

You finished your stew before they did. Your eyes drooped with exhaustion as your belly was filled. They would pause in their meals to carry you to your room. Father laid you down, but Mother tucked you in. They both kissed your forehead and blew out the candles around your room. The door creaked when it closed behind them.

You’d wake up tomorrow and begin the cycle all over again. It was perfect. The world was bright, new, and beautiful. Your hands had yet to form calluses. Your eyes were yet to dim with the harsh realities of the world.

That was all behind you now.

-

Cold nipped at your fingers and nose, intensifying as a breeze brushed past. You did not let it distract you.

The pendulums before you danced in a methodical tango. The spikes protruding from the wood were dulled with blood, and no longer glinted in the midday sun. Your piercing yellow eyes followed their movements, searching for an opening, timing exactly when they reached their zeniths.

“C’mon, Rat, we don’t have all day!” You cursed your brother. Your heart jumped with anxiety.

You would not allow yourself to fall again.

As the first pendulum reached its highest point to your left, you jumped through the gap. You felt the woosh of the second one as it passed mere inches from your face. You did not allow your feet to become unsteady on the unbalanced wooden beam beneath you.

The second and third reached their peaks. You seized the opportunity and leapt past both onto the next platform. In your eagerness, you almost got scratched in the face by the rotating wooden spikes before you.

You ducked down and passed through the gaps in between the layers. Easy. You let out a shaky breath as you turned to the pegs in the wall. The wood was worn down over excessive use, almost smooth now. You could slip and fall several feet into the hard concrete below- No. Focus.

With a deep breath in, you sprinted across the pegs. You nearly lost your balance on one, but pushed through to the next platform, where you almost skidded off the edge from your momentum.

“You’re almost there!” your brother called out again. You risked a glance down at him. Your other siblings had also gathered around, ready to watch you finally pass this training exercise, or fall flat once again. “Just don’t fall on your arse!”

Oh, you were so strangling him when you got down from here.

You jumped onto the swinging platform and stood at the front edge. You kept your knees loose, staying level with the motion of the swing.

Almost there.

Almost there.

The swing reached its peak, and you leapt for the ropes. Cold metal brushed your fingertips as gravity took hold. With barely a second to react, you curled into yourself, and landed on the hard concrete.

Disappointed sighs filled the courtyard as people left, until the only people left were you and your closest sibling.

Stuldweck leaned over your body, spread out on the ground. You looked past him to the sky, repetitively revealed and hidden as the swing shifted. He raised an eyebrow.

“Gonna get off the ground anytime soon, Rat?”

“No,” you sighed. “I’m just going to decompose, right here. Take care of Oalvir in my absence.”

He chuckled low and warm. “He’d be kicked out within a day.”

A slight grin found your lips. “Probably.”

Stuldweck held out a hand. You took it without further delay. With strength twice as great as your own, he lifted you back to your feet and slapped your back. “You gave it your best shot, Rat. Nothing else for it.”

“I was so close, Stul. So close! I touched the rings this time! I was right there!” You walked side by side with your brother as he guided you out of the courtyard and through the walls of Gorthur Gvaed - the Viper School. You grumbled, “And I fucked it up. Again.”

“You’ll get it soon!”

Stuldweck was your beacon of light in this shitty castle. Ever since you were little kids, he looked after you. You were the weakest of the bunch. The mages were surprised when you woke from the Trial of Grasses at all, and yet you still had to help dispose of the bodies of the dozens others who did not make it. Stul, arguably the strongest of the Adepts, kept you sane.

“How many tries did it take me?” he asked rhetorically. “Thirty-eight! You’re only at - What? - 19? And you’re faster than anybody else!”

“Because I’m a rat,” you teased. The nickname was given to you affectionately when you were younger. Because you were small and weak, your brothers would all say you could be eaten by a snake in one bite, like a sickly little rat. As you grew, however, it morphed into being more agile and sneaky than the rest.

He slung his arm around your neck, pulling you into a playful hug. “Exactly!” You shoved him off, laughing, as you both stumbled through the Keep. “And when you graduate, you'll be the best Viper around!”

A swell of emotion welled in your chest. It was warm and airy. Your smile became more muted as you looked at him. “You really think so?”

He smiled, genuinely. It was not a crooked smirk with teeth. His eyes were not playful or withholding truths in their depths. His dark skin crinkled around his mouth, and softened around his eyes. “Of course I do.”

Like a gas lighting aflame, the emotion in your chest burst into relief and joy. Before the soft moment between siblings could linger, he ruffled your hair and shoved your face away. “C’mon, Rat, you’re on kitchen duty.”

You chuckled and shoved him back. “Arsehole!”

-

“You’ve been creeping around all morning,” you pointed out. Stuldweck paused in the middle of dunking his bread in some warm broth, like a child caught breaking something. “Care to tell me why?”

He grinned knowingly. “You’ll see.”

You glanced to another table at the front of the banquet hall, filled from end to end with the mentors of the school. The Grandmaster, Ivar Evil-Eye, was engrossed in an ancient scroll, oblivious to the goings on before him. He was always like that. The mentors were truly the ones doing the heavy lifting, training students and doling out harsh punishments.

Lingering on the mentors a moment longer, searching for any hint they could be listening, you learned over the table and spoke in a hushed voice. “Is it another prank? Oalvir told me he had something in the works - is it that?”

Stul chuckled as he shook his head.  You sat back on the bench with a huff.

“What is it then?” you demanded.

“If you get through the obstacle course - unharmed - I’ll show you. Until then,” he made a motion of zipping his lips together, “not a word about it.”

Two sets of yellow eyes stared into each other. You squinted, studying his face for any microexpressions. Though, of course, you’d been trained well not to give anything away under pressure. It was not training one so lightly forgot.

Admitting defeat, you heaved a sigh. “Fine. Let’s go then!”

Startled, he dropped his chunk of bread into his broth. “Now? You haven’t even finished eating!”

“I’ve had enough; I need to know what you’re hiding! So, c’mon, let’s go.”

You were already standing, pushing your bowl and plate away as all eyes became fixed on the sudden movement. Stuldweck stuttered, gesturing at his own food. “Take it with you! And try not to choke when I land on that final platform.”

-

Cold air brushed your cheeks once again as you stood at the starting line. Unsurprisingly, the whole school decided lunch was not as interesting as watching you fall on your arse would be. Even the Grandmaster set his scroll down in favor of joining the crowd.

Everyone could hear the way your heart stuttered under the scrutinizing gazes of your siblings. It filled your ears. Your hands became clammy.

No. Don’t panic. Stay focused. You trained for this - you can do it.

Your eyes shifted from the swinging pendulums before you to the crowd. Up front, arms crossed and brow furrowed, stood Stuldweck. He nodded assuringly to you. Almost as quiet as a mouse, his voice found your ears.

“You’ve got this, Rat.”

It was all you needed to hear.

You looked ahead once more. The cold air of the mountain valley dried the back of your throat. The pendulums taunted you with their repetitive dance. Through them, you saw the rusted rings. You weren’t going to let them slip through your fingers again. Not this time.

With a speed never before seen within these damned walls, you weaved through the pendulums and spinning wooden spikes. You hardly paused at all before sprinting up the pegs on the wall and turning sharply onto the swinging platform.

And now, the rings. You remembered last time, when your fingers brushed the cool metal as you fell to the hard stone floor below. Not this time.

Time seemed to slow as the swing neared your target. The nervous, short breaths of your siblings, the subtle scuff of boots against the stone as Ivar and Stuldweck stepped forward, the vultures and hawks screeching in the distance - it all fell on deaf ears. You braced yourself.

And then you jumped.

Only this time, you caught the rings and held on with a death grip. Your arms pulled on your sockets as your body weight listened to gravity’s beckoning call. You would not fall into her siren’s trap this time. You swung your legs back and followed through with the momentum as you were propelled forward, letting go of the rings at the forward peak of your swing. With a hard thud, you landed on the final platform.

Silence. Then, the cheers of your brothers was all you could hear.

Your heart raced with adrenaline as you climbed down the ladder, only to be swarmed with arms slung over your shoulders and pats on the back and knuckles digging into the crown of your head. Congratulations were thrown around like rice at a wedding. All you could do was smile and breathlessly chuckle like a madman.

As the commotion settled and your siblings departed to return to their now-cold meals, you turned to Stul, who embraced you with powerful arms. “Do I get to see what you’ve been up to now?” you asked.

He laughed next to your ear before he roughly pulled away to drag you back into the Keep and through the halls. To your surprise, he did not drag you to his quarters or even back to the banquet hall. Instead, he pulled you through to the front of the School, and through the grand front doors to the courtyard. He stopped you in the center of the barren yard, but moved toward the empty stables.

“I wanted to do something special for your eventual success,” he began. You couldn’t stop looking at the hand he had resting on a stall door. “So, I pulled a couple of strings and…” He took a breath. Was he nervous? He smiled. “Well, here you go!”

In one fluid motion, he pushed the sliding door out of the way. Standing in the strewn hay upon wobbly legs, was a foal. The small horse snorted and backed away from the door. He was… You had no words to describe the feeling within you. Adoration? Awe? Elation?

The colt watched cautiously as you slowly stepped forward. His coat was light and well-groomed, with grey mottling all down his body, and dark flowing hair. You knelt at the doorway. After a moment, the horse neared.

“You…” You swallowed, still in disbelief. “You got me a horse?”

“Well, a foal, yeah.” You could hear the wide grin in his voice. “What’re you gonna name him?”

The colt stepped forward until it was almost face-to-face with you. He watched and waited to see if you would do anything. You made sure he saw your hand as you slowly raised it up. When he did not react or jump away, you pet the soft coat along his neck. He snorted at the gentle contact.

“Bayard,” you decided. “I’ll call him Bayard.”

Stul snorted at the name. “Are you sure? You don’t want to call him Ard Feainn or something?”

You scoffed, leveling him with an annoyed stare. “I didn’t think you were so big on religion,” you teased.

“It’s a more powerful name than Bayard,” he mocked, albeit playfully. He held his arms upward in dramatic fashion. “The Great Sun! As mighty a steed as the Continent has ever witnessed!”

You hit his leg, causing him to laugh and drop his arms. The youngling horse became startled at the sudden movement and scampered back into the stall.

“Alright! Alright! Bayard it is then.” Stul crossed his arms and leaned against the door. He sighed pensively. “Just one more trial and we’re out of here.”

Oh the thought of being free from these hallowed halls - it caused your heart to flutter and yearn for the outside world. It was so rarely that any Adept could leave the school, even to hunt for game. The only times you set foot on real dirt ground was for monster training. And even then, you were not allowed to stray far.

One final test to deem you worthy, and you would be set loose on the world. You could accept real contracts, interact with real people, fight real monsters! Your head spun just imagining it.

“Does anybody know what the final trial is?” you frowned, looking up at your brother for answers.

He thought for a moment, a frown tugging his features down, before shaking his head. “No idea. I’ll try asking Oalvir - that nitwit can figure anything out.” He noticed the frown taking over your previously joyous expression. “Hey,” he propped a hand on your shoulder, “don’t worry about it. You’ll do great no matter what it is.”

You managed a weak smile. “You will, too, Stul. We’ll make it out of here together - or not at all.”

---

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[annwayne]

The WIP game looks fun, the Oc x Rikkick isekai fic looks fun, but I'm also really interested by Alice in Atlantis.

I'll take any opportunity to talk about my wips bc lord knows I'm far from posting them 🥲

The oc x riddick isekai is suchhh a fun fic and probably my saddest? bittersweet, I'll say. but I love it sooo much. Very general summary-Ares is a regular person living in a regular world, until one night they wake up from a very vivid dream with marks that match how they died in their dream. Also, that dream world is a movie they are obsessed with called Pitch Black.

Alice in Atlantis is my SGA long fic, and actually the second fic since I've started writing fic again (around 2022?). Alice is a human scientist who's been with the Atlantis expedition since the beginning. When an alliance between Atlantis and Todd the Wraith forms, she's the scientist tasked with working with Todd to find a gene therapy that'll allow Wraith to eat regular food. This is that story. (and its a ship fic between Todd and Alice, if that wasn't clear lol)

oc x Riddick isekai:

“I don’t blame you.” I broke the silence of us sitting on the ridge overlooking the desolate camp.   “What’s that now?” Riddick scraped off that black goo he used to shave his head into a bucket.  A beat passed between us as I stared out at the multiple suns in the sky. “I’ve spent a long time thinking about why you’ll do what you do.” He glanced my way. “It never made sense to me, especially with how much you stick up for Jack. I don’t think I could even imagine thinking how you do. I don’t think I’m supposed to.” He scraped another line of goo from his scalp. “It’ll happen again.”  From my peripheral vision I saw Riddick lift his head to look at me. He didn't need to ask what I was talking about. I kept looking forward.  “Considering what’s coming, I’m not sure if I’ll come back.”  “What’s coming?” He asked, voice steady and serious. Everyone else thought me insane or cursed, but Riddick listened. Didn’t mean he always believed me, but he was smart enough to listen.  “A blood bath.” I answered, finally meeting my own eyes via the reflection of Riddick’s goggles. “You’ll run.” His head tilted back. “I don’t run.”  “You’ll want to.” A sigh slipped from me. “But that’s what I wanna talk about–I want you to know, no matter what happens to me, I don’t blame you because I know you’ll do the right thing when it matters.”  He sat, taking everything in perhaps. “That’ll be the first time you’ve been wrong, little girl.”

Alice in Atlantis:

"Ugh, you should have seen me, Teyla. I was a disaster in the lab." "I'm sure it was not as bad as you think it, Alice." Ronon’s eyes flickered with curiosity. A sly grin grew as he asked, "What happened?" The doctor pulled back the lid on her fruit cup and in one swift movement knocked back the contents of the plastic cup as if it were a shot. A habit from childhood. After wiping off the stray juice on her lips, Dr. Tucker answered. "I was focused, in the zone. Completely forgot where I was and who I was with. After I ran the simulation the whole program flashed errors at me and I swore at the computer." "I've heard Rodney threaten to rip apart a computer's mother before." The muscular man bit into his apple. Teyla gestured towards the full bottle of water on Alice's plate. "That's not all." Dr. Tucker grabbed the bottle, following Teyla's urging. After taking a long gulp she continued. "I guess Todd was curious. Hell, I'd be too. It was the first words I'd spoken since we started."  Ronon sat up and rested his elbows on the table. He crossed his arms and tilted his head while listening. Teyla finished off the last of her mashed potatoes as Alice continued. "He came over to check my work, only I didn't notice. So next thing I know, a Wraith is leaning over my shoulder and pointing out my mistake." Between words Dr. Tucker forgot about her lack of appetite and started shoveling down her meal. "I nearly fell off my stool and then couldn't say a word without shaking. It was pathetic."  Ronon chuckled quietly and Teyla threw a glare at him. "Alice, you have never encountered the Wraith in person before. It is sensible to react fearfully." "Sensible, but not strong." "So get stronger." Ronon lifted a hand the doctor's way. After a blank expression from her, the Satedan continued. "I've been giving Dr. Keller lessons. You could join us."

[pynkchampagne]

🖤🧡 Lestober Day 13: Share your favorite lyrics from your top five songs from Les projects of your choice. Why do you like them? Or be brave and share your favorite lyrics from five shuffled songs!

Five Shuffled Songs: Rumble of the Diesel // Tyranny of the Hunt // Iowan Gal // Harold of the Rocks // Moron TV

Expanded under the cut. ⬇️🎃

Rumble of the Diesel : Les Claypool

I like to keep it simple; it helps to keep me sane

I like floating in the ocean it nullifies the pain

Hmm, this one is harder- all the story ones are harder. Les’ songs are not often like Lana’s where I can just pick out a line like “oh this is so pretty” or “oh I relate”. Maybe I could have with my favorite songs. I picked this pair of lines because I like the imagery. This is a nice song, goes with his blue collar roots, talking about fishing albacore, which he loves to do. I like to think he’s speaking for himself here and how he finds peace on the water. Makes me want to go out on a boat. 

Tyranny of the Hunt : Colonel Claypool’s Bucket of Bernie Brains

A Petaluma man

Showed his gal a trick

He took a needle full of cocaine

And he shot it in his prick

They say he got the gangrene

The pain it wouldn't stop

And when he took a hot bath that night

His pecker floated to the top

I mean I had to include this whole section, because Les just has such a way with words, with storytelling. Lol, I think he’s funny. This is a good example of one of his humorous lyrics. Loves singing about fucked up dudes. This is the best part of the song tbh. I love when he says sex words, hehe. I wonder if he heard a story about this, scribbled it down, like ‘oh this has got to go in a song, cocaine in his dick!?’

Iowan Gal : Les Claypool

She's got a round bottom I like to spank it

She quilt me up a cashmere blanket

Pretty as a picture, happy as a clam

Pinch me and tell me how lucky I am

You may try to win her but you never will pal

My purebred, cornfed Iowan gal

Jesus this whole song makes me, like, blush. It’s about his wife, holy shit. Ughhh, of course shuffle would land on this. I mean, I have to pick the part where he talks about spanking her ass, right?? I’ve talked about it on this blog before. Talking about how much he loves her. How lucky he is and how possessive he is over her. How happy he is with her. I’m gonna cry. This whole song is so sweet…and…y’know. Damn. (Chaney signed off on one of her posts one time with something like ‘from this Iowan Girl’ and I’m sick.)

Harold of the Rocks : Primus

It was a weekend's eve

I had sex on my breath

I was looking for something to see

What are the odds of getting two songs I’ve mentioned on here before? Again, I’m picking the sex lyrics because I’m shallow. This is another story song about a guy he knew. Fucked up dudes on drugs, his favorite subject matter. This lyric is my evidence that he loves eating pussy. Okay. Thank you. Next.

Moron TV : Primus

Just when I thought I'd seen it all

They pull a cretin from the shelves

And flash that filth under their nails

To make us feel better about ourselves

First, wow, just fucking realized he’s saying “more on TV” than “Moron TV”, because I’m an idiot. He’s so clever, what nice word play. I like this lyric because of the visceral imagery. He’s got a very nice vocabulary. I like the commentary of how shitty reality TV is and how networks take advantage of vulnerable/stupid people to sell ads and shit. I like when he expresses his opinions in his work. I tend to agree with him on most things.