#I’d been spinning the teeth thing for a while and was kinda debating whether or not Gouge would do it before or after her victims died

[moonfurthetemmie]

I was thinking about how Gouge is supposed to deal with people who are yelling about JR Being bad

And how she likes to torment them since Delusion wants them dead anyways

And how she needs to make sure their remains won’t be identified

There are three, non-DNA-related ways I know of to identify a person.

1. Face (obviously)

2. Fingerprints

3. Teeth; specifically dental records.

…All of those could be involved in her torment.

Burning off all of their fingerprints.

Pulling their teeth out one by one.

Cutting their face up so horribly that they’re entirely unrecognizable.

And DNA identification can be solved by simply destroying all of the soft tissues. Acid or fire are the main ones I can think of, and both would be a slow, painful death.

She probably does other stuff, too, if she thinks she has the time. But always at least the tooth pulling, and most likely the fingerprint burning, even if she’s already planned to dissolve them in acid or burn them alive. Facial mutilation is more iffy, because the degree to which she’ll have to do it will probably cause fatal blood loss. If she wants them to die another way, she won’t bother.

[stylistiquements]

Day 1 : Soap Bubbles.

𐐪𐑂 Pairing : Sapnap x fem!reader {Playlist}

𐐪𐑂 Summary : You're being introduce to the internet in a peculiar way, it's up to you to decide what you're going to do with it.

𐐪𐑂 Word count : 1.4k | W: written part underneath

𐐪𐑂 Warning : very few swears

Masterlist | Previous | Next

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

The coffee that sinks inside your stomach brings out a grimace and a click of your tongue where the taste stains; too bitter, too acidic but you’ll drink it anyway and to the last drop; there is something about the idea of spending time with three best friends that is so made of spring and honey that you wish to miss none of it.

“Someone is lurking,” George contemplates out loud, and the call goes silent for a second as if to look for the intruder. And it would so easy to flinch, to hit the back pedal, because you almost feel like one being exposed front stage like that. But today- today is not that day.

It's not that you don't want to join the discussion, it's that it takes a second to warm up, to absorb the energy and become one with it.

And sometimes, all it takes is Sapnap to exclaim, “Panini head, my beloved!” for your smile synchronizes with his chuckles. Somehow, once noticed by the right person, life flows back naturally.

George and Dream greets you in trailing unison, like two kids forced to greet their unwelcomed aunt on a sunday afternoon.

“H-hey troublemakers,” you finally say. Your voice is still quiet, not reluctant, but rather uncertain. It doesn't bother anyone.

“I’m beating Dream’s ass at chess and he’s bitter,” Sap explains, and you silently nod, as if they were able to see you.

A long silence follows along, rythmed by clicks of mouses and keyboards and it falls in your ears like high droplets. It's comfortable. It's intimate, shared with friends only.

"We haven't heard from you in a while," Dream says. "I mean ... before the clout fiasco."

You wouldn't exactly call it a fiasco, even though you don't really like the idea of being perceived a little too closely from the eyes of twitter.com, but you do agree anyway, "I've been caught up on college essays lately."

"That sucks," George probably adds.

“Good thing you’re here, then,” Dream notes, simple as a breath. “This is a worry-free zone.”

It hovers for a second, carried by George’s approval hum.

You squint suspiciously, detective mode, at the profile pictures that light on and off before your eyes, “Thanks, dream.”

He scoffs a “sure” and you’re not sure why you sense a bit of irony stuck on the back of his teeth. You're so tempted to call him out, but you don't. Instead, you write a mental note of this odd moment.

“It’s because I told him about your three brothers and now he’s scared they’re gonna find him and kick his ass,” Sap explains as if he just read your mind.

Sometimes, there’s this thing in the air, though you’re miles away. Something like a connection. There’s this thing when you don’t need to talk for Sap to understand. Sharing one brain cell, you dismiss ironically. Probably coincidences and predictability, but it always sounds a little special, a little like something you’d wish to be out of this world, like morning dew and fairy circles. And it makes you feel safe, at home, just like snuggling up in the sheets during a stormy night. Your smile washes up the sleeve of your hoodie, covered palm carefully hiding your chuckles.

“Three older brothers,” George muses, and there’s no telling if it’s something meant for you to hear. “That’s kinda scary.”

“You better be scared, one of them is probably your FBI agent,” you tease mindlessly, though there's nothing scary about those three grown men.

“I’m British, Bunny,” he points out. Whether the exasperation in his tone is fake or genuine, that, you can’t tell, but you play it cool, grin carved so deep it almost hurts. Dream’s wheezes rise and fall in the background.

“Say that to his face then,” you outbid smirkingly after a second of silence, heels growing into the carpet to make your chair spin slowly left and right, so breezily.

“I’d praise you for the rest of my life if you-Oooooooh your ass is wacked. Your ass is so wacked, dude. You fucked up so bad,” Sapnap chokes out between strings of giggles.

“Oh no, my streamer is losing his game?” You theatrically pout. “My streamer Dreamwastaken, have you met him? Guess you don’t need any of my brothers to kick your ass.”

“Okay yeah- no- it’s not my fault if your- they’re distracting me, okay?” Dream defends.

Slowly, the energy lowers again and the call remembers peace as Dream admits defeat.

“I’m not playing against you anymore,” he mumbles through greeted teeth, your hoodie shelters a muffled giggle. “Let’s talk about y/n’s twitter fame instead.”

“Let’s just not-” you mutter, both because seeing Dream lose at something is a miracle that has to be witnessed once and because you’re somewhat reluctant. “Let’s just not talk about that.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I had no idea it would draw this much attention to you,” Sap admits.

“Well, you talk about her all the time it was only a matter of time before twitter finds out,” George taunts and you secretly smile, listening to the way your best friend tries to defend himself, mind flooded with the last memories you have of when you were able to see those chuckles for real.

“Yeah, Quackity already told me you guys talk behind my back,” you fakely muse. “That’s totally fine, I don’t wanna know what you guys are talking about at all.” It’s a lie, obviously, the idea creeps upon your mind with assumptions you can’t quite get a grip of nor let go.

“You and Quackity talk?’ Sapnap asks, hint of surprise, and you hum.

“Or rather, he talks to me. He keeps calling-.” Shit. The forsaken word traps itself into your mouth. It’s too silly anyway.

“Come on, just say it,” Dream pushes as if he knew too much, more than you even do, and your cheeks flush mindlessly. You don’t notice.

“Dream, quit it!” You demand.

“Quit what?”

“You talk as if you knew more than anyone did.”

“Maybe I just do,” he coos, so dream-like.

Oblivious or careless, Sapnap asks, “Is Quackity bothering you or something?”

“He-" you begin but stop to look for the right way to put it, "He triggers my flight or fight response.”

"I mean, duh," Sapnap probably rolls his eyes.

"But I like him. He's funny."

After a second of silence, George says, “Well that was unexpected.”

“Not so much, I think we’re both chaotic neutral people.”

“What is that neutral chaotic thing anyway?” Dream is confused.

Roll up your sleeve girl boss because now is your time to shine! You offer your best dream smp alignment chart to the classroom. They're speechless, but they listen carefully.

"Then you're more chaotic good than neutral. You're too sweet anyway," Sap says.

"I'd even say lawful good," George debates.

"That's because you haven't seen Bunny during her crazy cat hour."

"True," you note.

"She'll go absolutely batshit."

“What?" George burst between confusion and surprise. "We've never seen you like that."

"A lady never reveal her secrets," you retort. No one answer.

It leaves a second for your mind to enjoy peace. For your eyes to lay on c!tubbo on lawful good and think true, then on c!dream on chaotic evil and think also very true. You huff and it's like a wave; as sarcasm leaves your breath, an idea comes in.

"Sap, check your DMs," you request.

Surrounded by the evening lull, Sapnap’s laugh pops like soap bubbles, "God, you’re so stupid. Why can't you just marry me?"

“So, is it Sapnap approved?” You chuckle lightly to prevent Sapnap’s morning fresh laugh to fill your chest and leak everywhere.

“Just press ‘send tweet’ please,” he confirms with leftovers of a smile in his voice.

"George, get me out of here. They're doing it again," Dream whines.

"Doing what?" He asks, unbothered.

"Act like they're alone in the convo. Just get a room." And you don't get to stand up for yourself that you and your best friend are actually sent to another room.

"Well this one is chaotic evil confirmed," you mumble as you roll your eyes but the vibes are much peaceful, much more comfortable in here. "So ... hi."

"Hi," he chuckles in return.

Maybe that's for the best; a moment that needs to stay a little timeless, secretive and special. It hasn't happened in so long, you don't even remember the last time it did.

"I'm glad you're here. I miss you, you know?" He says, and it's hard to not feel so bittersweet about it. It's hard when longing involves a craved touch, a real smile and an eye contact. Your shoulder sinks in the chair a little harder.

"I miss you too. I'll be here soon," you promise. And soon couldn't come any sooner.

But the conversation, soft and free, will wash up any worries, as always, and you'll end up talking about everything and nothing, about streams and planned videos and college and god knows what. As long as it makes the two of you happy and smiling. Just like the old days, you'll both think and it's fair to say until the evening turns into night and night turns into fatigue.

"Are you sure you're okay about that clout?" He asks once again. "I know you don't like being exposed like that."

"Yeah, yeah don't worry too much about it. I'll try to make good use of it."

"I'm sure you will," he murmurs, but oh boy did he not know what was about to come until you two meet.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

Taglist : @open-minded-chip-101 ; @itsoakaa ; @gaysludge

A/N : so first of all it has come to my attention that 129 days from now on is actually my birthday so that's a weird coincidence lol. Hi how are you guys?? welcome to the first part I hope you liked it. I'm fairly new to the mcyt community and that's the first time I write for them, so bear with me. Feedbacks are always appreciated. Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

[sapphiresterreart]

Puzzling Pieces Chapter 7 UNFINISHED

As per request, here are the unfinished pages of what would’ve been chapter 7 of the Hiro x Miguel ship fic Puzzling Pieces. Under a read more.

Could he do it? Could he summon the Hamada parents? There was no guarantee and he’d have to ask Cass for photos, but how incredible would it be if he could not only reunite the Hamada brothers, but the whole Hamada family?

Tadashi would get to talk with their parents. Hiro would get to meet their parents. And Cass would get to see her sister or brother!

He bit his lip. As of now he could go ahead and summon the Rivera by calling for their blessing, but maybe he should wait until he had the Hamada family photos? That, and no one in their group had weapons or armor ready to use to fight against Ernesto and possibly Bruce.

His gaze skimmed across the ofrenda to the Hamada brothers. If Ernesto really had been shot by Tadashi’s ghost repellent gun, then he would need to take time to heal. Meaning, they had time before the attack. Enough time to wait till tomorrow to ask Cass for photos, then.

Still…wouldn’t hurt to call for the Rivera’s anyway, just in case if the Hamada parents couldn’t in fact cross over.

Miguel inhaled and closed his eyes, picturing the family. “Papá Héctor? Mamá Imelda? If you can hear me, I need a favor…”

Clothing rustled behind him. Someone murmured but he ignored them.

“See, De La Cruz is in the land of the living. He wants to…” his breath hitched. “He wants to kill me to bring himself back to life but he’s not alone. There’s–”

“Miguel?” Hiro’s voice startled him. “Miguel, your skin!”

He snapped open his eyes, darting them to his hands. Fear slammed in his chest. Where there once was skin, there now was bone. Just barely, he could see the transparent outline of his hand and a scream ripped itself from his throat.

Footsteps scuffed cement and slender arms wrapped around him. Miguel jerked his gaze up to meet Hiro’s own and saw an orange glow reflected in brown eyes. Hiro held him tight as he struggled for air.

“Miguel, holy shi–are you okay? What’s going on?” Hiro yammered into his ear. “We can see your bones. You’re glowing! What the hell?”

“Y-you can see me?” Relief soared. “I’m not cursed again?”

“What?” Hiro pulled away just enough to check him over. “Your skin’s coming back!”

Shaking brown hands lifted and Miguel confirmed that yes, his skin had returned to normal. He exhaled and sagged into the hug. Moments passed and he realized Tadashi had approached with a searching expression.

“Maybe…” Tadashi mused. “Were you trying to summon them? Or just bless the altar?”

“Both?” Miguel shrugged helplessly, heart still racing.

Hiro fussed over him. Fingers combed through his hair, a palm checked his temperature. Eyes scanned his face and hands flitted across his arms and down to his hands as if to confirm that they were, in fact, real and solid.

Though the concern was welcome, it was a bit embarrassing with the man’s older brother watching them. Especially since that brother slowly started to smile.

Tadashi shoved a hand against his brother’s head. “Knock it off, bro. Either kiss him or give him space.”

The two of them jumped apart, spluttering. Hiro cursed, scandalized. “Bro!”

Miguel grabbed his wrist and yelped. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

Tadashi laughed. “Alright, alright. How ‘bout this, then.” He closed the files on the computer and holographic displays. “We leave the supernatural for tomorrow. It’s getting late and we need our rest.”

Though Hiro protested, another teasing line at Miguel’s expense sent the two of them up to their room. After a confusing moment of deciding sleeping arrangements, Tadashi shooed them away and said he’d sleep on the red couch in the garage.

Now Miguel found himself curled under the covers, occasionally shifting. He dozed in and out of uneasy sleep. It wasn’t until he felt someone else’s presence did he open his eyes to find one shadowed man staring him down.

“Hiro…?” Groggily, he rubbed his eyes. “Whaddya wan’?”

“Nothin’!” The shadow jumped. “…are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah?” Miguel rolled onto his side to better look at the man. “Wha’s wrong?”

“Nuthin’ I just…” a beat passed. “Something’s been bugging me.”

“What is it?”

“Earlier today, you said ‘amorigo,’ but was it amor or amigo?”

“Dios mío, Hiro.” Miguel felt himself waking up more and dodged the question to check his phone. “It’s two am!”

“Okay, but do you have a girlfriend?” The man’s voice quickened speed like a hamster on a spinning wheel. “Did you get one while we were fighting? Wait, is it a crush, do you have a crush, who is it?”

This couldn’t seriously be happening.

“It’s not a skeleton is it?”

Dios mío, it was happening.

“So is it a crush, girlfriend, or a friend cause–”

“Hiro, it’s two–”

“–Do I know them or–” Hiro paused just long enough to reveal horror. “Are you crushing on my brother, dude?”

Miguel groaned. “Relajaté. Go back to bed, you can’t possibly stay awake all night just to think about thi–”

“Yes.”

“You are seriously gonna stay up all night? Just to wonder?”

“…no.”

“Then go to bed.”

Instead, Hiro stayed right where he was and continued to annoy his poor, sleep deprived form. “...but is it Tadashi? Like, what do you see in him? You've only known him for a day.”

Miguel grabbed the pillow and haphazardly aimed for the man. Desperately, he tried to sidetrack the pest. “If you’re worried about me cause of the skin-to-bone thing, I’m fine.”

Hiro dodged and stubbornly chewed him out. “I mean it’s okay if you lik–do you like dudes? I’m a dude. Do you like me?”

Miguel’s heart stopped. Mierda, mierda, mierda, he’s getting too close, mierda mierda mierda.

Hiro paused, as if realizing his words. “Oh shi–I sound like the kinda jerk who asks all gay guys to date me, oh my–Wait, wait, oh no–what if he dies and I never find out? Scratch that, what if he dies. Period.”

Enough was enough. Miguel snagged Hiro’s wrist, flipped open the covers, and dragged him beneath the sheets. After an alarmed yelp, Hiro finally, mercifully, shut up and Miguel snuggled him close with soothing nonsense.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’m not gonna die, okay? I’m right here, okay Hiro?”

“O-oh no.” Hiro stammered. “I-I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Miguel cleared his throat. “But it’s okay, I’m here. So go to sleep, okay? Sleep. Here, I’ll even sing you something, okay?”

“Yeah…” Hiro breathed, back to his chest. “Yeah, okay.”

He rifled through songs before settling on one Socorro helped him to write. Softly, he sang.

“Someone gave me a shooting star,

and said to make a wish.

There were many things that I could ask

but nothing more than to fish.”

Hiro snorted. “Fish?”

“Roll with it.” Miguel playfully shoved his shoulder and continued to sing.

“See, I’ve never seen the ocean,

but I’d love to see it soon.

Even better if I could see it with you

and we could fish from the moon.”

A light sigh escaped Hiro and Miguel smiled. Works every time. He hummed the rest of the melody until Hiro’s breathing evened. He would’ve drifted to sleep himself if it weren’t for the realization that one Hiro Hamada was wrapped in his arms. He inhaled to steady his own heartbeat and exhaled.

Roll with it. Miguel tossed worries to the side. They were both safe and alive. Might as well enjoy the moment while he still could.

He closed his eyes.

~oOo~

A low baritone pulled his awareness into the waking world. “…so this is why you two haven’t come down for breakfast.”

Groggily, Miguel dragged bleary eyes to the speaker. “Tadashi?”

He mumbled and shifted, the warm pillow in his arms moving with him. The man continued to speak. “Wish I had a camera.”

The pillow muttered. “Go ‘way, ’dashi…”

Alarm shocked Miguel and he shrieked. Instinctually, he kicked the living, breathing thing and it flew off the bed with a squawk and landed with a thud and a pained groan. His heart hammered, laughter roared in the background, and he peered over the edge of the mattress. The pillow was not in fact a pillow, but one grumpy young man.

“…oops,” Miguel winced as Hiro shot him a deadly glare. “Sorry, Hiro.”

Muffled slapping and loud laughter prompted Hiro to growl and snap at his brother. “I liked you better six feet under.”

Tadashi wheezed. “It was a fire. I woulda been cremated, bro.”

Hiro bared his teeth. “Then I’ll take your ashes, mix it with confetti, compress it into a bullet and shoot you. So you better stay dead.”

The older Hamada pouted. “What’s the confetti for?”

“Celebration.”

Miguel eyed the bloodthirsty Hamada warily. “Uh…”

Hiro continued viciously. “When the bullet explodes, you’ll die in a shower of confetti. Then, I can dance over your dead body with bright pieces of paper falling everywhere. It’ll be beautiful and quiet and I’ll finally be able to sleep.”

“Still a bear to wake up.” Tadashi lidded his gaze with a sly smile. “Hope you two slept well…in each other’s arms.”

Hiro launched to his feet, screeched, and chased his brother out of the room.

Miguel stared at the stairway, thoroughly perturbed, and debated whether to save Tadashi from untimely death (especially after he worked so hard to bring him home) or to change out of pajamas. In the end, he decided to rescue weeks of hard work and pursued the Hamada brothers.

“Hola, Señorita Cass!” He greeted and swung himself onto the second floor.

“Good morning, Miguel!” She chirped. “Catch them before they kill each other, won’t you?”

“¡Por supuesto!”

He followed the angry yells and hustled into the café portion of the building. There, Hiro had his older brother backed into a corner with only a table between them. Tadashi grinned when he spotted Miguel and waved.

“My savior!” The man called. “Save me from this madman!”

Hiro hissed incoherently.

Miguel took another moment to debate priorities. But, good-nature won and he put himself into the line of fire. Placating hands lifted and Miguel tried for a one-dimpled smile as he sidled into Hiro’s view. He cranked up the charm.

“Señorita Cass is cooking breakfast.” He sang. “I bet you’re hungry. Smelled like she’s making pancakes.” When Hiro continued to glare, he kept his mouth moving. “Personally, I would add vanilla extract to make them sweeter but I know you prefer spicy food.”

“I wonder if there’s such thing as spicy pancakes? Could you put hot sauce in pancakes? Wait, ew, that’s gross. Why would you eat that? Huh. Maybe I could make it work. Is that a challenge? I think it’s a challenge. Are you challenging me?”

Over the course of his rambling, Hiro softened from murderous rage and interrupted. “I’m no chef, but I’ve never tasted your cooking. Is it awful?”

Insulted, Miguel puffed his chest. “Excuse you. I am an excellent cook!”

Hiro snorted. “Yeah, yeah. I’m hungry, let’s go.”

Miguel perked and checked behind him to find Tadashi had escaped. Probably during the distraction. He shrugged and trotted after Hiro. They settled around the folding table and thanked Cass for the meal.

After they finished eating, he shooed away the brothers to help Señorita Cass with the dishes. Once alone with her, he took the chance. “Señorit–”

She shot him a look.

“Ah, Cass. Tía Cass.” He corrected. “Do you…” he hesitated. Should he really ask? It could easily fail. Raise hopes only to crush them. No, no, he had to try. No time to hesitate.

“Do you have any photos of the Hamada parents?”

Cass jolted and turned away from the dishes to study him. “Of course! But why do you ask?”

Miguel scrubbed the plate with unusual focus. “Oh, um. Did Tadashi tell you about where he’s been all this time?”

“Yes, but–”

“Did he say anything about, uh…unusual things?” The dish dripped with soap.

“I…guess?”

“What about really unusual–” The soap flowed off the plate as he quickened pace.

“That dish is clean.”

Gentle fingers plucked it from his hands. He halted. Cass grasped his sudsed hands and turned off the tap.

“Miguel, what’s this about?”

He exhaled and took the plunge. “I don’t know if it will work or if you will believe me, but…” He met her worried gaze. “I want to summon Hiro and Tadashi’s family, and yours if you will let me. I just need photos and–and it’ll be good for them! They could see their family after so long and Hiro could meet their family and you coul–”

She shushed him with a quiet smile. “I have photo albums. We can use some from there.”

He brightened. “You believe me?”

Cass shrugged and smiled, helplessly amused. “How can I not? You brought my nephew back to us. He can see ghosts now and apparently there’s a madman after all of you and it’s all so crazy but.” She huffed and rolled her eyes. “But since when have I done anything except crazy?”

Miguel tackled the amazing, incredible, wonderful woman into a hug. “Graciás, tía Cass.”

“I should be thanking you, Miguel!” She returned the hug. “You just keep bringing home surprises.”

“And you,” he pulled away, “keep a home to come back to.” He glanced at his soapy, wet hands. “Sorry about–”

She merely dipped her hands into the soapy water and flicked her fingers. Droplets darkened his pajama shirt “There, now we’re even. Go change and I’ll finish here. Then we can get the photos.”

He laughed. “Sí, tía Cass!”

Miguel hurried up the stairs. A quick change into a red shirt, jeans, and a worn out blue hoodie later brought Miguel to tía Cass’ side in the kitchen. She had finished the last of the dishes and was rifling through the wood cabinets below the cushioned seat alcove below the windows.

A mix of familiar voices chattered on the first floor. She handed him a photo album and checked the time.

“It’s not organized at all and I have to open the café, but there should be enough photos with the right names here and there for you to figure out who’s who. Hope it helps!”

He accepted the thick album and nodded as she hustled down the steps. He tucked the book beneath an arm and followed after her to find the team had gathered in the café portion of the building. Tía Cass slipped on the black apron and flitted through the café front before switching the sign from ‘closed’ to ‘open.’

The team had yet to notice him as Hiro and Tadashi served them their coffees and baked foods. Tía Cass took over once they were served. Fred noticed him and gestured for him to follow the group to the garage.

He waved farewell to tía Cass.

[adamcoled]

disagreements | marty scurll

A/N: I got my wisdom teeth removed on Wednesday, so I haven’t written anything in the past couple of days, but I remembered I wrote this short lil something :]

Marty and I, well, we tended to disagree. On a lot of things. Not the kind of disagreements that lead to arguments and eventual yelling, but the kind over petty things that are forgotten in a week’s time. The kind that aren’t truly disagreements because, once it came to it, I’d always be willing to give in if he didn’t give in first.

Truthfully, it was just a matter of who would cave first. Usually it was him, since his resolve quickly crumbled when I brought out my tactics, but sometimes he’d stand his ground firmly, forcing me to be the loser for once. On those rare occasions, Marty would raise his hands in victory and mention it at least ten times a day. Exactly the reason why I hated letting him be right.

When it was the other way around, myself coming out victorious, I was left questioning whether my success was worth it in the end. It almost always ended with a pouty Marty who sulked over it for a solid couple of hours.

It had happened when we first moved in together, debating over what color to paint our bedroom. He’d insisted on brown, meanwhile I’d envisioned a gray room and arranged the entire thing in my head already.

In the empty room, myself on the ground sitting on folded legs and Marty leaned against the doorframe, we were tasked with deciding the color quickly, as everything else was ready to go. Our failure to reach an agreement was the one thing holding us back.

“C’mon, don’t you think brown would be quite nice? It’ll make things feel nice ‘n cozy,” Marty offered, picking up one of the paint chips that was thrown haphazardly on the floor.

Brown wasn’t a bad idea, but with the look we were going for, gray would have been much more suitable. Or maybe that was just my bias coming through; either way, I was dead-set on gray and, considering I had made most of the executive decisions regarding the interior of our first house, I felt I had a pretty good idea going on.

“But,” I began, pulling up a reference picture on my phone of what I had in mind, “Look at this. I think it suits us.”

He studied the picture for a moment, zooming in randomly and squinting one eye to make his examination seem more realistic. Once he gave me back my phone wordlessly, I’d assumed he still wasn’t convinced. After all, our debates weren’t squashed so easily, both of us being too stubborn for our own good. Just the thought of the two of us under the same roof had my head spinning; it was a miracle we’d made it this far into our house fiasco. “Okay. Okay, maybe you’re right,” he sighed, a clear sign that it was definitely hurting his pride to admit it.

Hearing his acceptance caused a smile to break out on my face to which Marty flicked the paint chip he had been holding in my direction. It fell short a few feet, assuming I was the target, and I poked my tongue out at him, an act he returned in a second. We were two children who probably shouldn’t be given this kind of responsibility.

“So brown it is?” I confirmed, hopeful that he wouldn’t back out on it now. Otherwise, we’d be right back to square one, undecided on a paint color when all else was going smoothly.

“Brown it is.”

It had almost happened when we were both adamant on the type of pet we wanted to get.

We had moved into our house, complete with the brown bedroom walls, and it truly felt like we were finally settling down. There were still many days without Marty, days that felt empty in the place we created together, and since he was so committed to wrestling, there always would be. But knowing he would soon be back to the bed we shared was comfort enough in those silent nights of solitude.

There didn’t seem to be any issues that I could see, though apparently Marty thought otherwise when he suddenly brought it up over breakfast one morning.

“Something’s missing,” he announced, rubbing his chin in deep thought, “We need a dog, y’know, make it feel like a real family.” He didn’t make much of argument, but it was a convincing one nonetheless. A pet would solidify that sense of family and it would be nice to have some companionship when Marty was away. The only objection I had was his choice of pet.

I was a cat person my entire life. From strays I’d fed as a young girl to the kittens I’d taken in, my heart too big to ever turn down the gentle mewls and big eyes. That didn’t mean I had anything against dogs, not in the slightest, but to me, cats just made sense. Especially when they were easier to care for and Marty had a career that required frequent time from home and I had one that required plenty of time as well.

“That’d be great, actually. A pet would be great. A cat sounds like a good option for us, though,” I suggested, but something told me this wasn’t a battle I’d be winning. A paint color was one thing, but a pet was another.

He frowned, already pouting like a child, his plans diverted by my disagreement. “I want a dog,” he said simply, but he had to have known that wouldn’t be enough to convince me. We’d been through this kind of thing one too many times; it was practically a routine.

“I want a cat.”

And so it went back and forth like that for another ten minutes, each of us bringing up a valid point in hopes the other would finally agree. He had made such a convincing argument that I was just about willing to accept defeat, though was it really defeat? We’d end up with a really cute dog that I could cuddle with whenever I wanted, which didn’t seem like a loss at all.

“Why can’t there just be a dog cat hybrid?” Marty sighed, leaning his head against his hand, excitement deflated.

“Now that I can agree with,” I mimicked his actions. “But alright. We’ll get a dog.”

He was so stunned by my acceptance that he almost didn’t believe it, asking me to repeat it a few times as he grinned, cheering and raising his arms all the while. I knew I wouldn’t hear the end of it, especially not after we officially welcomed the new addition to our family.

But, I could deal with the bragging if it meant I would come home to the image of the two of them sprawled out on the couch together.

And it had almost happened yet again when our next task was deciding on a name for the puppy we had chosen together.

In my head, I had already thought of several names and I’d assumed there would be at least one we could agree upon. Marty, however, had other plans; he’d come up with a name himself.

“Marty, we’re not naming our dog Villain.”

While it certainly wasn’t the worst name, it definitely wasn’t the best either. I already had a handful with one villain in the house. Two seemed like an absolute nightmare.

“Why not? It’s kinda cute,” he reasoned, scratching behind the unnamed pup’s ears.

I rolled my eyes, taking a seat next to them on the couch. “You are the only villain I need,” I objected, “I’ve already got my hands full with you.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to my temple as he mumbled something along the lines of “maybe you’re right.”

“How about Bullet?” he tried again, hopeful that this would be the one to settle the ongoing debate. Even though I wished I could turn it down, wished I thought one of my names was better, I had to admit Bullet fit perfectly. It had a connection and still seemed to suit him. I guess I had to let Marty get his way twice in a row to make up for all those times I’d gotten mine.

“I like it,” I nodded, picking Bullet up and into my own arms, “Bullet. Suits our little guy.”

Marty’s arm came around my shoulders as I placed Bullet back on his lap; in just a few minutes, Bullet was fast asleep. “Seems like he already likes me more than you,” Marty teased, earning him a punch to the arm, careful enough not to wake the pup, “But don’t worry, you’re still my number one.”

[foreverlovingdaryldixon]

24, 18, 16, 5. You dont have to do them all. Caryl prompts. From the thing.

24.  person A flirting withother people to make person B jealous.

18.  “I can help you to make her/him jealous”

Two in one! Set in the prison. Hopefully not too similar to thelast.

They had been flitting around the subject for toolong and quite frankly Carol was tired of it, she was almost sure he wanted ittoo, almost. She had to be certain though, she wasn’t open to the possibilityof rejection. Luckily for her she wasn’t the only one who had noticed their littledance.

“I can help ya make him jealous,” a voice came frombehind her making her jump and spin around.

Her shocked expression was wiped away with insteadone of boredom as she saw Merle leant against the entrance of her cell, adevilish grin on his face.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking aboutMerle,” she said casually bending over to untie her boots and slip them off.

“Come on don’t play coy with me woman,” he saidtaking a stride into her cell, “you and I both know ya got the hots forDarylina.”

Carol turned to face him a frown set deep on herface as she tried to cover up what they both knew to be true, “I do not havethe ‘hots’ for your brother.”

“Sugar, lie through your teeth all ya want but ya’reonly makin’ it harder on yaself,” Merle quipped, knowing he was quicklybreaking her.

She glared up as he now stood tall in front of her,debating whether to fight him on this or not.

“What did you mean by make him jealous?” shequestioned through gritted teeth, she couldn’t believe she was doing this.

A long grin spread across Merle’s face knowing he’dwon, “atta girl, knew ya’d come round. All pretty little Dixon boy needs ta seeif ya gettin’ all a lil bit too friendly with big brother Merle over here, drivethe kid crazy.”

Carol wasn’t fond of the idea, Merle would reap inthe benefits, loving the attention. However it would confirm or deny whether hewas feeling the same things she was. It seemed easy enough but she was worriedabout the lasting damage it might have on their current friendship.

“Why can’t you just flirt with me? Second nature toyou by now surely,” Carol asked, leaning back against her dresser.

“Exactly why it can’t be me babycakes, I flirt withevery woman, Daryl see’s me flirting with ya he’ll be pissed sure but it ain’tgonna get ya the kinda reaction ya want, trust ol’ Merle, follow my advice, boy’llbe eatin’ out the palm of ya hand in no time.”

“I don’t want him to be my bitch Merle,” Carol saidrolling her eyes.

“But we’re doin’ this right?” he asked a shiteating grin on his smug face.

She sighed running a hand through her hair, “yes I’lltry it, starting tomorrow, but do not take this too far, I won’t hesitate toslit your throat while you sleep.”

“Damn, I like ‘em feisty,” he winked before goingto leave her cell, “see ya on the playin’ field baby.”

Fuck. What had she got herself into?

***

The next morning she woke early as she usually did,going downstairs to start on breakfast for everyone. It didn’t bother herhaving to be up so early, she always was an early riser, however so were theDixon brothers.

“Smells good sugar,” Merle’s voice came from besideher making her jump again.

“Jesus, stop doing that,” she hissed glancingaround the room seeing no one else about.

“Ya gotta be more on guard,” he said more seriouslythan she was used to for Merle, “ma brother’s gonna be here in a minute so yabest get ya flirtin’ skills up to scratch.”

She turned her body around to face his putting onsoft seductive eyes as she heard the door open from behind her.

“That him?” she asked quietly, Merle nodded hishead, an easy grin coming across his face.

“Merle Dixon!” she said in a girlish voice, loudenough so she was sure Daryl would hear, “you are a shameless tease you knowthat?”

As she spoke her hands came up the slide up thelength of his torso, stopping just before she got to his shoulders.

“Offer’s always open sugar,” he drawled, playingalong as his good hand went to trail down her jaw.

She could feel Daryl’s eyes burning in the back ofher head as stood across the other side of the room.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she purred, smirking atMerle as he winked at her, pulling away and leaving just Carol and Daryl in theroom.

As soon as the door shut behind him she turned backto her work, Daryl now visible in her peripheral.

“Daryl,” she played surprised as she looked at himstalking towards her, “between you and your brother you’re going to give me aheart attack sneaking up on me like that.”

“Sounds like ma brother’s gonna give ya a whole lotmore,” he snapped as Carol passed him a bowl of food.

Carol resisted smiling at his reaction, pleasedthat it was working.

She looked up at him with big innocent eyes, “whatdo you mean?”

“Nothin’,” he grunted walking back out the door hecame.

She saw Merle again later that day and he decidedto lead them to the courtyard where he knew Daryl was working on his bike.

“Alright sweetheart, I’ll go out first, sit downstretch my legs a lil, ya come out a few minutes later, come straight over tame okay? Darylina is gonna blow his lid when he sees ya comin’ over ta me an’not him.”

Carol nodded, still uncomfortable with the situationbut god if Daryl didn’t need a kick up the ass, she wanted a reaction, Merlewould pull that from him.

She did as he said, waiting a few minutes before goingout to join him, she saw Daryl not ten foot away from them, avoiding his gazeas she sat on the table next to Merle.

They were far enough away that if they murmured hewouldn’t hear and the murmuring would only rile him up more.

“Alright mouse, I want ya ta laugh in a moment andput ya hand on ma thigh, however high ya want ta go sweetcheeks,” Merlemurmured as Carol wet her lips, knowing that Daryl could see.

She nodded a grin appearing on her face as she letout a light-hearted laugh, her hand falling to his upper thigh, her fingernailstracing obvious enough circles that it caught the hunters attention.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, do you?” sheteased loud enough for Daryl to hear with a devilish look in her eye, Merleknew it was all for show but damn if he wasn’t enjoying it.

“Lean into me and pretend ta whisper in ma ear,”Merle drawled quietly as she followed suit and did so.

“You think it’s working?” she whispered once shewas close enough.

“Sugar ya are drivin’ that boy damn insane,” hemurmured back, as Carol pushed lightly against his chest, pretending to laughagain.

“I’ll see you later?” she asked as she stood fromthe bench, biting on the side of her lip seductively.

“Oh ya’ll be seein’ me,” he answered, being unableto resist knowing this might just push his dumbass of a brother over the edgeas he leant forward to slap her ass.

She let out a yelp wanted to rip his balls off butinstead glanced back and shook her head with a smirk, “I’ll get you back forthat Dixon.”

Merle chuckled to himself knowing that was a threatshe intended to keep.

His attention was adverted when he heard theclatter of tools hitting the toolbox with force, as Daryl flung them away,storming past Merle following after Carol. Boy made it far too easy Merlethought with a laugh.

“Carol!” she jumped hearing her name shouted so aggressively.She watched as Daryl approached her with speed, stopping just short of herface.

“Daryl,” she greeted somewhat breathless at hisproximity.

“The hell ya playin’ at huh?” he yelled.

“What do you mean what am I playing at?” she asked,knowing that the slap on the ass had been too much for him.

“I mean gettin’ all close an’ friendly with mabrother,” he growled with fire in his eyes.

“Is there a problem with that?” she asked wantingnothing more than to kiss the shit out of him.

“Yeah, he ain’t no good for ya, I know Merle, he’sgonna hurt ya,” he raged, no sign of losing fuel yet.

“Well maybe I’m a big girl and I can make my owndecisions,” she quipped, she was willing to push this as far as she needed togo, no point turning back now.

“Jesus,” he scoffed, “thought ya were smarter than this,nothin’ good can come from this ya know that?”

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say Daryl Dixonwas jealous,” she pushed on.

This tripped him up causing him to snort, “I-I ain’tjealous, don’t give a shit what ya do.”

“Don’t lie to me Daryl,” she warned, knowing he wasgetting into dangerous territory of where his anger fuelled words could startto hurt her, “don’t say something stupid that you can’t take back.”

This seemed to break his resolve a little as he letout a frustrated sigh, “course I give a shit what ya do, I care about ya Caroland I don’t wanna see ya hurt by my prick of a brother, ya deserve more thanthat, someone that’ll treat ya better.”

“And is that person you?” she asked quietly.

He bit down hard on his lip, he was too deep inthis now not to tell her, “yeah, I know ya ain’t interested but I would treatya so much better than Merle would, his heart’s in the right place but hethinks with his dick, that’s the problem.”

Carol couldn’t help the grin setting across herface.

“What’re ya smilin’ for?” he grumbled his eyes downcasting again.

“I’m smiling cause it took for me to flirt withyour brother of all people just to get you to admit how you really feel.”

Daryl frowned confusion crossing his face, “whaddyamean?”

“I mean I’ve been flirting with Merle to get yourattention, see if you actually felt anything for me or not…clearly it worked inmy favour. I don’t like Merle, the hell would I ever like Merle when I haveyou.”

“Ya don’t…” Daryl trailed off as he processed yourwords, “so ya like…me?”

She nodded glad now for their close proximity asshe wrapped her hands around his neck, “it’s always been you Daryl, I was justnever sure we were on the same page, I couldn’t risk putting myself out thereand losing our friendship, you have no idea how much you mean to me.”

This time it was Daryl’s turn to grin as he pressedhis forehead against hers, “ya have no idea how much ya mean to me. I was just scared, ya know? Ain’tnever felt like this ‘fore, didn’t wanna lose ya.”

“Daryl you could never lose me,” Carol whisperedbefore closing the distance between them, her lips moulding against his as hemet her with just as much passion. Eventually they came up for air, Daryl keepinghis forehead against hers, his arms wrapped around her waist.

“So we really trying this?” she asked, her eyesstill shut.

“Yeah, we really are,” he responded making her eyesopen to gaze into his.

“I do love a happy endin’,” a voice bellowed fromacross the room making them jump apart.

The fire from before came back into Daryl’s eyes ashe glared at his brother, “yeah well now I got a bone to pick with ya, yafuckin’ prick,” he growled stalking towards his brother.

“Now now now Darylina, ya should be thankin’ me, I couldhave had that piece’ve pussy all ta maself but I let ya have her,” Merlereasoned backing away towards the door.

“As if!” Carol yelled across at him in disgust.

“Ya want a more experienced Dixon ya know where tafind me sugar,” Merle shouted back before turning on his heel to run from hisbrother who was now pursuing after him.

“I’m gonna kick your ass ya dick,” Daryl shouted ashe ran out the door after him.

Carol hugged her arms around herself and chuckledlightly, despite his vulgar mouth she owed Merle Dixon, especially after Darylwas done with him.