#JAWS WOULD BE SO GOOD TOO..... OUGH

[jackals-ships]

already took my sleepy meds ignore the fact it's almost 3am but having to get up and Pace For A Second like i can be normal

[sunny-knight]

FORGETTABLE AU PAGES - LIVE REACTION

@forgettable-au Go. Read. It. 🫵

….oh my god.

ok y’know what, i’m not even gonna do my usual summarizing thoughts before going through the pages beat for beat- we’re diving STRAIGHT in.

strictly formatting these is overrated anyway

THE FIRST PAGE!!!

First of all awwwwww I hope we get to see Riverperson again… Flowey resting his head on top of Papyrus’ in the raft melts my heart as well.

For the first bit of dialogue here with Floweys internal monologue- OUGH I LOVE IT! I will NEVER get sick of getting into his head, he’s like us! a theorist! his thought process here is so me.… “ive never thought of the possibility that Papyrus might have been involved as well…” Welllllllll… You’re half right.

Im also looking forward to seeing the part of Wingdings’ story that explains Papyrus’ conveyor belt related trauma- cause cmon man whats wrong with conveyer belts 😭

Papyrus basically having a conversation with himself while Flowey just goes and does his own thing is SO REAL ALSO I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

ALSO LMAO THE BACKPACK IS ACTUALLY THERE- THAT WAS A THING I POINTED OUT AS A JOKE IN THIS POST- funny to know that was just a mistake, BUT IM ONTO YOUR LITTLE TRICKS!!! I KNOW ITS LORE RELATED SOMEWHERE!!!!

PAGE 2

PAPYRUS’ REACTION HERE HAS ME SCREAMING IN AGONY, I DIDN’T THINK IT WOULD GET WORSE- BUT spoilers. it gets so much worse. I mean I- kind of- spoiled it with the drawing at the very beginning….BUT- YOU SHOULD HAVE READ THE COMICS BEFORE READING THIS!!!

GOOGLY EYES PAPYRUS SPOTTED!!!! OHHH I COULDN’T BE HAPPIER and speaking of facial expressions I hate (love) Floweys smug ass in these panels 😭

THE 2ND TO LAST PANEL- OH THIS SHOT BEHIND AND BELOW PAPYRUS IS JUST GORGEOUS HIS SKULL AND JAW AND NECK- ITS ALL SO WELL DRAWN

PAGE 3

Talking about the actual dialogue for a second- trying not to get too carried away only focusing on the visuals.

Im very concerned we’re going to have a moment with the power going out, Papyrus and Flowey being stuck without the elevator just like Alphys and Wingdings were. Some chicanery is gonna happen comparing and contrasting how they handle that compared to the 2 scientists. Ofc thats a lot of speculation- But I cant help but feel like the talk about “the energy hopfully lasting long enough” is leading up to something….not fun.

Maybe what they do down here is a weird time mumbo jumbo that is important to make what happens in the past- happen. Maybe thats why Gaster is watching them…

“You should talk to my brother more!!!” …..I want to disagree- but also I want them to be friends and think they COULD get along

PAGE 4

“That would be weird!!” reference to when you call Papyrus in Alphys’ room….i see what you did there….

Also Floweys logic here about having hisss permission just made me giggle so much LMAO I absolutely love the repeated “Papyrus is hesitant” followed up by “Flowey presenting a sorta??? convincing argument” and Papyrus just being like “…ALRIGHT!”. Very fun and in character for him

PAGE. 5.

When I tell you- this K I L L E D. M E. GOD THIS IS SO WELL DRAWN???!?!?!?! I CAN FEEL THE SINKING DREAD- OOOUUUUGGHHHH THE DETAIL IN HIS EYE SOCKETS!!!!!!!!

This incredibly depicts feeling of sound filling your head- just AAAA IT HITS SO HARD AND IT HURTS SO GOOD.

PAGE 6

“Are you- uh..feeling anything?” Subtle Flowey. Very subtle. Though I love Papyrus’ complete misread of what he’s asking HEHDHE. Yknow, Its a belief among ghost hunters that “cold spots” mean theres a ghost lurking around. HM.

Also wtf are you talking about- Papyrus?? you “sometimes” have nerve endings 😭?? That line is incredibly in character answer for him, but also what?? maybe im missing something obvious. Ough the detail on the hand bone…

PAGE 7

WINGDINGS!!!!!!!! MY GOAT!!!! AND ALSO SANS!!!!! MY SLIGHTLY LESSER GOAT WHOM I STILL LOVE!!!!!!!!!!

God I wonder where this conversation is going to go- wheres Wingdings going with this? is he gonna tell him about the tape?? why did he LIE ABOUT THE CREVICE IN THE FIRST PLACE???? IM STILL HUNG UP ON THAT!

Its clear Wingdings plans on researching timelines because of the tape things, ofc, im just surprised he’s informing Sans about it since he’s proven to want to keep at least some of it a secret. At the very least he seems to really enjoy- controlling information.

Im calling it now, Wingdings is a pathological liar. (bold ass claim especially because he only lied once so far BUT IM CALLING IT!!!)

Also the talking and writing in wingdings here is gonna make me immediately rule out Alphys being involved in this conversation.

IN CONCLUSION!

I am. LOSING. MY MIND. OUUUGHH THE ART JUST GETS BETTER AND BETTER, THE PLOT AND THE TENSION!!! IT JUST GETS THICKER AND THICKER. I can promise you, the pages are ALWAYS worth the wait…as a wise man once said…

(the real quote, if you dont know is by Shigeru Miyamoto and replate ‘comic’ with ‘game’)

[grandlinedreams]

hey babes!!! i just want to say that i love your law fics! and i stumbled across the soulmate law fic and you talked how law is so kaz brekker coded 🥹 glad im not the only one!! i would love to see more law in kaz moments just like the scene when kaz treated inej in the bathroom (im not sure if you've done this trope before but i love the tension between kanej) 🤣

GOD BLESS YOU you know what i'm talking abt they're so similar yet different but OUGH YES i had to find my copy and reread the chapter so i could get a good read again hhhfnd

[Heads up!: some good ol' pining, mention of injuries, pre-dressrosa/post punk hazard]

The door to the bathroom is open, shiny tile and bright lighting ㅡ and you, making neat strips of clean cloth for bandaging. Law doesn't knock to announce his presence, knows he doesn't have to. Though you don't look up, you're aware of him.

"There are two doctors on this ship," he intones, "you could have had one of us patch you up."

Snip. Another strip of bandage. "Both of you are injured. I hardly think it fair to ask you to do more while you heal."

"I think you're still bleeding." Law nods to the bright red that blossoms through the bandage that you have wound around your upper arm, approaching. "I can help."

You secure yourself further against the basin, watching him. In the reflection, he catches a peek of the tattoo stamped over the topmost knot of your spine ㅡ he looks away.

"I'm sorry."

You don't ask him what he's apologizing for ㅡ there are a thousand things he could be apologizing for, a thousand that he should.

Apologies don't come easy for a man like him.

"Were you the one who shot me?" He doesn't like the way you stare at him, Law realizes. Too analytical, too much like you're pulling him apart meticulously, piece by piece. He wonders ㅡ if you reach in far enough to pull the dark, wild thing of his heart out, would you be afraid of him?

"No. Butㅡ"

"Then you have nothing to apologize for." His teeth grit, jaw aching with the force of it. You make it sound as though the world deals in absolutes, measured evenly and doled out in the same way.

It doesn't, he knows that. If the world were fair, he may still not have his family, but he'd still have Cora.

"You shouldn't have come with me." He still hasn't moved towards you, evaluating you like a cornered animal despite the relaxed set of your shoulders, the loose curl of your hands for balance on the basin.

"I pledged my loyalty to you, not to a ship crew without their captain."

Law wonders if you've ever lied in your life. You meet his gaze, and his eyes narrow. He should demand you leave ㅡ find some way to get ahold of Bepo and the others, make you leave.

(He needs you to stay.)

He finally slots himself in the space between your knees, takes hold of your arm with one hand, the scissors you'd been using with the other.

Despite the blood seeping through, the wind of bandage is neat, efficient ㅡ you've watched him do it so many times.

Snip.

Bare skin, marred only for the clean, punched hole that oozes fresh blood. If it hurts, you don't show it.

He holds his hand out without looking at you, soft cloth against his fingers that he dabs your wound with.

"What's your intention in Dressrosa?"

Blood seeps into the cloth. "This should be stitched."

He doesn't need to look up to know you're staring at him. He can feel your gaze, fights the urge to look at you. "It's fine."

He winds white bandage around it, lost in the soft loop around your arm as he finally answers your question. "To bring down Doflamingo."

Scissors gleam in the lighting overhead. Your eyes, dark moon pupils haloed by color ㅡ dismantling him, piece by piece. "What are you really after?"

Snip.

The scissors clatter into the basin as his hands meet the mirror on either side of your head. This close, he could kiss you. Let his hands wander, touch, selfishly covet the way he so badly wants to. But he doesn't.

(His hands are bloodstained, and yours are not.)

His eyes lock with yours, his fingers curling. "The means to an end."

[corrosivesaints]

Prompt: lipstick and a split lip

Pairing: CrozBrady

john brady martyr complex poppin' off in this one! my sweet boy with so many problems...ough. i tried not to make it too angsty... but unfortunately for all of us mr brady is just a lil angst generator. ty for the prompt, bestie, MWAH! 😘

“Christ, John, have you at least seen Smokey?” Croz asks as he wets his handkerchief. This time of night the base is empty, most men out carousing or bothering the local English girls, so the bathroom echoes with his voice as he wipes John’s lower lip carefully. 

“It’s nothing,” he says, the words garbled by Croz’s steady hand holding his aching jaw and the handkerchief in question. “You should see the guy Bucky got.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Harry mutters, mostly to himself as he turns to rinse out the cloth. John’s blood is red and lurid in the low light, bright as a warning flare, and he wished he didn’t have that knowledge in his brain. “You’re gonna have a bruise the size of Texas, by the way,” he adds. 

John rests his chin on Harry’s shoulder to eye up the damage in the mirror. A split lip, and he’s right, a nasty bruise to the right side of John’s face, starting to purple. Even his hair is in disarray, falling over his forehead sloppily. Harry didn’t quite get all the blood, it paints his mouth a cheery color, almost as if he’s wearing lipstick. 

“Ouch,” he remarks dryly, watching the light shift over the darkening bruise. Harry meets his gaze in the mirror and then rolls his eyes. 

“Your observation skills dazzle,” he shoots back, handing him the wet cloth. John dabs at the blood. The texture is all wrong for lipstick, the mark it would leave on a shirt collar would be oxidized and runny. Harry leans his hip against the sink and holds Johnny’s jacket. Just to show he’s there, listening, waiting. 

“It was stupid,” he finally says, staring down at the faucet. The porcelain is stained with the memories of toothpaste and shaving cream. He’s going to have a blinder of a headache tomorrow, and it’s going to piss off Cleven. Bucky’s gonna tick him off even worse, but it’s Bucky. John will take the brunt of Gale’s displeasure, it’s what he’s good at after all. “RAF bullshit,” he clarifies, folding the handkerchief up carefully. Harry’s initials are monogrammed in the corner, palest blue as a perfect sky for flying, HHC. He’s never asked what the middle initial is for. 

Harry sighs, stares out at the tiled walls like they’ll give him an answer.

“And you got involved…?”

“Because we didn’t have Biddick.” The words came out soft, he wasn’t expecting that. Poor Curt, his bones food for the earth, flesh picked clean by the birds. He licks at the wound in his lip absently, welcomes the sting. Pain is straightforward, it is either present or not. Pain is God’s gift, clearing his senses, bringing purpose.

“John,” Harry says, voice just as bruised as John’s poor face is. “Hey, look at me, huh?” He nudges his chin with one hand, his fingers cool. He’s always got ink on his left hand, from smudging it as he writes. John lets him, stares at Harry’s beautiful, earnest face. 

“You aren’t him,” he says firmly, mouth in a grim line he hardly ever adopts, the serious expression strange on his face. It makes John’s stomach turn over. 

“I know.”

“You could ask Crank or Demarco to help out, next time.”

“It has to be me.” The conviction catches Harry off guard, he furrows his brow and blinks at him. “I promised,” he adds. And in the end it doesn’t matter if it was to Curt or to Bucky, John Brady doesn’t break a promise. Harry sighs, looking so goddamn worried for him, so sad, and John hates to see it. He can carry it for the both of them, he’s had practice. Harry should be unburdened, it’s not his cross to bear. “I’m not doing anything I wasn’t prepared to do, Croz.”

“Jesus, at least get someone to help if you’re going to fight.” 

“Sure.” That’s an easy request at the end of the day. Harry asks so little of him, John makes an effort to listen when he does. He’s apparently not mollified by this answer, he’s studying John carefully, as if he’s a difficult terrain map he doesn’t have a legend for. He takes his jacket back, puts it down, and leans into Harry’s space. He’s warm, he smells like his aftershave, familiar to Johnny like the smell of his own pipe, or the scent of the engines on a B-17 when they’re hot. 

“Harry,” he says, kissing the side of his face softly. He shivers, one hand going to John’s waist, the touch burning-hot. He makes a noise of protest, even as his eyes flutter shut. John doesn’t stop, and his poor split lip leaves behind faint crimson smears, as if he really is wearing lipstick. This is dangerous, anyone could walk in at any time. They can’t leave marks, evidence, they’ll get blue-ticketed faster than a fort in a nose dive. But John Brady wants to leave behind some impression that he was alive, that he walked this earth and loved on it, an impulse that grows more frantic with each passing week. So many dead men and who will remember them? 

“We shouldn’t–” Harry pulls back enough to look him in the eye. “Not here,” he amends softly, eyes straying to John’s mouth. 

“One of the sheds?” Most guys are in town tonight, it shouldn’t be that hard to find somewhere away from prying eyes out at the edges of the base. They finished a mission recently, nobody will go looking for Captain Brady or Lieutenant Crosby if they steal away for a little bit. Harry nods, kisses him once, chaste and quick.

“Ten minutes?” he says from the door. John nods, and like that he’s gone. He takes his time putting his dress greens to rights, shrugging his jacket back on, tucking his hair into place. Carefully reconstructing his armor, the unflinching Captain John Brady sliding back into place, covering up the scared boy that had hit that RAF officer. Bucky will smooth things over the next day. In the morning, he’ll sit next to Hoerr in the mess and eat those awful powdered eggs, and deter Meatball from eating his toast, and life will go on. 

“Right,” he tells his own reflection. “Once more, unto the breach.”

[samuelroukin]

So AO3 is down and so is my fave celeb gossip site, work is dead bc the holiday coming and ALSO this is your fault bc the horny grip breaking something stayed with me therefore:

Adam doesn't think anything of handing over his shirt to the techs. It's more like a rag now, shredded and stained with fluids he doesn't even want to begin thinking about. Evidence, but also probably a biohazard. And none of it was even his fault, even Esther agreed with him, which means their reports will match. Still, he's not exactly looking forward to walking into their office to explain, scrounging around in his bag for a new shirt, or hoodie, or whatever he can find. He doesn't have his gym bag, anymore, after all. Leo tends to get hawk-eyed if he so much as totes around an oversized backpack. Which he deserves, he knows. Still. He tries to slink in, too aware Esther went up far ahead of him and will probably have ensured they'll all be expecting him when he does get inside. She certainly is, smirking when he opens the door, and he glares right back. He'd take a bullet for her, and knows she would for him, but that doesn't mean they get along either. So instead of taking the easy route, and asking for his bag and beating a quick retreat to the men's room, Adam steps fully into the room, spine straight and jaw angled, the way he was raised. It's a mistake. Even Esther's face drops when the snap, sharp and clear, rings out. There's nothing in Leo's face, even with ink and plastic shards all over his wrist, so hard and flat and blank Adam wants to flinch. He's never seen that look on him, ever. "Out. Now," he says, and it's worse than yelling, the cold iron command in it. Pia and Esther scramble, and Adam tries, but it's clear that Leo means him to stay. It's not my fault, he wants to say, but can't get past the knot in his throat, the barbed glass shard that says this was always coming, that Adam was always going to push past Leo's love and goodwill, already strained to the breaking point. "Adam," Leo says, ground out like it's being pulled from his lungs against his will even as he advances, graceful as a panther, pining Adam to the edge of his desk with just his gaze. Adam's eyes slip shut, expecting a blow, body tense. They pop open when he feels Leo's mouth at his neck, his chest, moving down, fingers shaking, moaning like he's dying. "You're so- beautiful, Adam, you're- I can't, I can't, oh- Adam. Adam." Leo's rambling, whispered into his skin, teeth and lips and hands reaching, moving all over, covering Adam's tattoos and more as he moves. Completely undone just from looking at him. "Adam," he says, voice breaking, and Adam fists a hand in his hair and drags him up, slots their lips together, because if he's done this, he's taking all he can, stealing it, before Leo comes to his senses.

OUGH sorry for seeing this so late but yesssss that's the good shit ‼️ he snapped a whole ass pen djkhgfjkhghs very understandable tbh. and poor adam thinking he messed up </3 worth the moment of pain tho 👀 also you know the girls are laughing their asses off in the break room, fully aware of why leo told them to gtfo

[fallenclan]

okay, I have a few songs in mind for that Otterslip pmv! Just to let you know what to expect between all of these :) Give me your thoughts on these songs, I love these all dearly and really want to create something with all of these.

Toba the Tura by Forgiven Durden

Introduction to the Show by ミラクルミュージカル (Miracle Musical)

Alternatively, I use the Hawaii Part II Part II demo for Introduction to the Show because that version goes so hard. 10/10 demos. The piano is so crisp.

Time Machine by ミラクルミュージカル (Miracle Musical)

I will be using either the 1st or 2nd demo if I decide to do this song. The polished version on the official record won't do for Otterslip.

The Rockrose and The Thistle by The Amazing Devil

Worms by Viagra Boys

Poplar St by Glass Animals

I'd have to do this one carefully. Might have to edit my own version of the song for the pmv

I will be watching this post, so if anyone has more ideas.... then please share them in the replies or smth :)

-🎲

YOUR MUSIC TASTE IS SO GOOD. all of these songs are fantastic and they fit Otterslip so well,,, i've listened to almost all of them before but i still had to make myself a little playlist to refresh my memory and listen to them with the context of Otterslip in mind. devastating btw, in the best possible way. putting my thoughts below the cut bc they might get a little long!

Toba the Tura:

SUCH a good song. especially for Otterslip. a few lyrics that really stood out to me.

THE LAST ONE ESPECIALLY. that whole ending monologue just SCREAMS Otterslip. the girl he loved vacating to a new place? his daughter dying and going to the afterlife. a mountainous wall of stone to separate themselves from him??? its. a fucking mountain. they live in a mountain. theirs would be the light, his would be the dark. oughghghghg sobs and wails and cries forever

Introduction to the Snow:

what if i cried. man this song is so fucking SAD. and also not in a way. would work fantastic if one wanted to do a really lonesome depressing take on Otterslip's exile. im picturing an animatic with very few pov changes, just Otterslip maybe watching the stars or traveling through the outside of Fallenclan's territory, up until "you'll live forever tonight" and the piano afterwards, then i'm seeing lots of glimpses of his past life in Fallenclan, and the events leading up to Stormsight's death. ougghh

Time Machine:

GOD THIS WORKS SO WELL WITH HIS EXILE. "you'll have enough time to spend some time alone" HES LITERALLY ALONE. dice anon youre going to turn me into an Otterslip apologist. hes literally leaving today

The Rockrose and the Thistle:

jaw drop. a friend of mine introduced me to this band a while back but HOW HAVE I NOT HEARD THIS ONE. this song fits Otterslip so good its crazy. here's a couple lyrics that stick out to me

i'm definitely seeing some hints of Grassroot in this song. maybe he's singing it to her, maybe she's singing it to him, idk but shes There. ouches

Worms:

i've never heard this song OR this band before and it fucking RULES so first off thanks for pointing me in that direction. second OUGH i can see the Otterslip here. no lyrics in particular stand out to me but the Vibes... man the vibes they fit so well. i can see him singing this to Stormsight, esp since the "the same worms that eat me will one day eat you too" has such a threatening sound to it,,

Poplar St:

MY HEART. god this is so good and it works so well. again no lyrics really stick out to me in particular but MAN. the stress on "free falling love addict" is getting to me. considering Stormsight fell to his death. ouch.

conclusion! these are all fantastic song choices and you are a fucking genius. i'm almost temped to something with Toba the Tura myself, except i know I'd never finish it lmao. and as a side note, if you've never heard the Chonny Jash covers of a lot of Miracle Musical songs i would highly recommend. they aren't for everyone but personally I like them better than some of the originals, even.

and back to the topic of Otterslip: here's all the songs I have on his playlist at the moment (though i will be adding. probably all of the ones youve suggested.) in case you wanted more inspiration or simply some good tunes to listen to.

ty for your wonderful ask!!! you have given me much to think about...

[ochrearia]

Sitting here insanely pitiful about this massive blocked pore on the right side of my back that's turned into almost a fucking boil at this point and it hurts to press and is probably making all this radiating soreness up my neck, jaw and going down my back too. Hell on me

How can I make this about YS having phantom pain in one of the wing scars and he's teary and mopey and pitiful and he gets nicey warm hugs and a lullaby out of Beefer because in canon YS is only aware of Beefer knowing about the loss of wings thing

Biff doesn't know about the wing loss only that he's an angel as well as Beef, though Beef knows abt the wing scars but YS doesn't remember opening his mouth bc he was exhausted delirious

Peacock knows he's an angel and YS knows that but doesn't think he knows about the lost wings

Same for Blue except Blue doesn't fucking know he's also an angeldhsjfjg he just probably thinks everyone can tell when someone isn't a human

I've been really brainrotting about the song I said Beefer would sing to YS from the Big Brother Music Box playlist. The After Hours slowed and reverb version. Ough its so good. That would put the big guy to sleep so fucking fast and it Will! /silly

[v3ng34nc3-w4yn3]

"PRETTY PLEASE."

veena lambert x mare torres

based on the song "pretty please"

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Mare, Ianthe and veena collectively decided a night out at the bar would do something good for them.

Ianthe and mare were in deep conversation, veena was sipping her drink and watching the two of them.

Ianthe popped a strange question..

"ruin my life? yeah I'd let her.."

he chuckled, rolling his eyes at Ianthe, how silly..what kind of question was-

"we can arrange that."

he nearly choked. Infact, he did. Coughing slightly.

"sorry?"

"you heard me."

she smiled at him, sipping her drink as he stared at her, fangs peaking out from her lips.

A nervous chuckle left his throat as her eyes scanned over his face.

What was she playing at?

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The couple eventually made it back to their apartment, Mare texted Ianthe to make sure he was alright before glancing back at his girlfriend, who laid back against the sofa.

He gulped, actively getting nervous.

"..veena?"

"yeah sugar? what's up baby?"

As per usual, her voice was soft.

"I meant what I said at the bar, you know- you're just so pretty-"

veena simply looked up at him, pointing for him to come over as she sat up. When he finally placed himself next to her she immediately moved to remove his mask, which confused him just a little.

"you think I doubted you?"

Her hands landed against the sides of his neck, He could feel his face heating up and his heart racing. Which explained why she took off the mask. She could feel his pulse too.

Giggling at mare's expression she leaned in and kissed him, In return to this he rested his hands comfortably on her waist, just as he always did.

She pulled away, dipping her head and pressing her nose against his neck.

For that split second he remembered that veena could sink her fangs into his neck without even thinking, maybe that scared him a little? he wasn't sure.

".. I'm not biting your point sugar, I'd never."

He let out a sigh that he didn't even know he was holding, relaxing when he felt her kiss his jaw, her hands strumming against his chest.

"because that really would ruin your life..-"

She chuckled gently.

"Sometimes it's nice to feel your pulse jump, especially when I'm the cause."

She joked, nuzzling their noses together.

Mare smiled at her, studying her face like he always did.. admiring her features.

She stared back, her own heart rate picking up as she leaned in for another kiss, this time one that was more soft, He fell victim to her affection and melted into it completely, pulling away from the kiss to rest his head against her chest, She responded by gently threading her fingers through his hair, being careful not to catch any pieces of hair on her nails, she knew how he felt if his hair was tugged, she was as gentle as a lamb.

"you getting sleepy baby?"

He baa'd softly in acknowledgement, nodding his head.

She knew now was the time he would be getting tired, meaning he's less likely to respond to her.

"alright..let's go put some pajamas on.."

They spent the last half hour of their evening getting into bed, gathering both rune and primrose, who comfortably curled up at the end of mare and veena's bed.

"Night sweet thing..i love you.."

she kissed the top of his head, nuzzling into him.

"love you too.."

He returned, finally settling..

And dream sweet he did, comfortably resting on the safety of veena's arms, her nails gently tracing patterns on his back as he fell into sleep.

He adored her as much as she adored him.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

OUGH THEM (⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠)♡︎

[cheemken]

“No one could deviate from that path. Not even Iris herself could deviate from that path.” KNIGHT THIS DAMNED LINE

She is just SO convinced that she’s destined to be someone she’s not. God I love it when the good characters eventually fall into madness

Also, I would like to hear about Iris freezing people and forcing them to tell Diantha and Lance what they’ve said in the past

Imagine Iris threatening their families lives or threading to kill their Pokémon, like having Haxorus or Hydregion hold down that persons Pokémon while getting ready to maul it to death, if they don’t start talking and explain to her parents what part they played in her descent to insanity

Please Iris needs therapy at this point too😭🤣

Homegirl really fucking lost it na and she's there making sure everyone knows it's their fault and just cjdmbd ough™

But like omf yeah can you imagine cbmdbd the Shadow Triad taking them off the Frigate, down with the others, and god everything suddenly felt colder, everything went quiet, and then Iris looks back to the Triad, telling them to watch over Bianca within the Frigate, make sure Hilda and Hilbert won't come back, kill them if they must. And just chdmdb imagine the other Champions being so wary now that Iris is down there with them, B. Kyurem at her side and god imagine how that'd fuck up the rest of the Unova kids tho, that Iris managed to take Zekrom to fuse with Kyurem. And ofc, the Dragon is there glaring down at everyone, waiting for its hero's commands.

Then Iris approaches this man, fighting off Plasma grunts, she calls out Haxorus, pinning down his Krookodile with a snarl, the man was petrified when he saw Iris, and the grunts took it as an opportunity to also grab him, forcing him to kneel before his god. He looks up at her, terrified, pleading for mercy, it make Iris grin. She then crouched down his level, grabbing his jaw as she forced him to look at Lance and Diantha, "you've always been one of the more.. opinionated ones," Iris began, voice almost sounding soft, then she chuckled, "so go ahead, why don't you tell my parents all the bullshit you tell every goddamn person about me." She sneered, her grip on his jaw lowered down to his neck, her hold on him was tight, his vision almost obscured by black spots. His own words caught in his throat, tears fell from his eyes, the words that came out his mouth were pleas of mercy, which did not appeal to Iris. Growling, she grabbed the man and threw him to the ground, stepping hard on the back of his head, slamming his face to the ground, and an unsettling crack rang in their ears.

"tell them!" She growled, ignoring the cries from Lance and Diantha for her to stop, then she crouched down, grabbing him by his hair, forcing him to look up at her parents again, his face was covered in blood. Iris chuckled now, eyes half lidded as she stared at him, "tell them. Tell them every single one of your thoughts about how fucking pathetic I am. Tell them how much you hate their daughter. Tell them, or I'll make sure you watch your Krookodile die a cold and painful death."

And he finally did, as his tears mixed with his blood, he finally spoke about his hatred for Iris, even before she became Champion. Told them about how he thought she was an incompetent Gym Leader, how she was just a child, doesn't matter she was a prodigy. Told them how she doesn't take her job seriously, even tho she really did. Told them about how he thinks she just got lucky to have beaten Alder, it should've been Hilbert that's the Champion. Told them about every spiteful thing he ever thought about Iris, about how he thought she wasn't fit to be Unova's Champion, how he never gave her the respect she deserves, how he never saw her as a Champion, how he wished she could've lost immediately on her first battle as Champion to be replaced with someone he thinks is more competent. He told them how Drayden should've just left her in Blackthorn. He told them everything. He told them how much he hated a child who only wanted what's best for their region.

Imagine how that'd mess up Dia and Lance tho, cause hearing it first hand now, it fucked them up. This man hated Iris from the start, from the time she was still Gym Leader, thinking she was incompetent. How their daughter had to endure this kind of hatred for so long, since she was young, since she was still a twelve year old kid suddenly thrusted into a world where failure to meet expectations would be met with more spiteful words of discouragement from the masses.

And god just cjdmbd imagine Iris throwing him back to the ground, and he's there crying out for mercy, for forgiveness, but Iris looked at him devoid of any emotion, her eyes almost gleaming with an ominous light, she spoke, "kill him." Then she turned to Haxorus, "both of them." And she went back to Lance and Diantha's side, not sparing a glance back at the man, his and his Krookodile's fate sealed by Haxorus' Guillotine.

Imagine her then smiling wryly, "well.. was that enough? Or do you want to hear more? I'm sure there's a lot of them who wants to tell you just how shit I am." She laughed as if it's some sort of twisted joke, not giving them the time to process the way the grunts and Haxorus killed the man and his pokemon, as Iris dragged them somewhere else, making them hear more of just how the people of Unova see her.

[the-mspfa-200-favourites-project]

LUSTALE

It always warms my heart to look at the “recent pages” tab on a fanadventure and see that there have been, in fact, recent upd8s for the fanadventure I’m currently reading. I don’t why. I guess because I like to see people continuing to make what’s passionate to them? Because the person or team making it are like…making it? Doing it? Surviving the creative process? Anyways.

You know, as much as I might seem like I’m a detractor of the “Vast Error” art style, it’s more like it’s become the default House Style of MSPFA and thus isn’t worth mentioning that much in these notes. Like, it’s still a rather nice style that can bring out some gorgeous panels sometimes. Case in point, literally Page 3 has some GORGEOUS water color textures, with all the pinks intermingling with the bleu hues…ough. Okay actually now that I’m getting a little bit more into it I have to say it, every single panel so far has my jaw on the floor over how good this coloring and lighting and framing is. What the heck? You can *DO* this in this art style???????? Crazy. Also I love it when Fanadventures do this little “hey here’s a sneak peak at all the wonders you’re about to see :3” dance, it’s so engaging, because if there’s a section of the story I don’t like, I know I can just ride it out until I get to the parts I want to see. :3

I’m starting to sense the pattern emerging, and maybe it was emerging a little bit before this too, but I think that the more recently you talk about SBURBventures, you might run into the fact that they are all truncating the Act 1 Sequence. Like, SBURB TAS and Chainbound both skip their “introduction” phases, and launch straight into the SBURB portion of the SBURBventure. Which I guess makes sense, because often times it *does* feel like the interesting bits that the creator has planned out for the Fanadventure all occur within SBURB, so skipping right to the good parts and figuring it out from there does have a certain appeal to it.

Some days (okay most days) I feel inadequate to be like, delivering my opinion on Fanadventures because while I think I understand the ways that Homestuck and SBURBventures work and like applying an academical lens to them, sometimes I just run into a part of a comic that I can’t really explain *why* I don’t like it, or describe it in a way that makes sense, and I get kind of frustrated? Like, it’s dialogue again. I’m not enjoying this dialogue. But if I could understand *why* I don’t like this dialogue, then maybe I could communicate that fact and people could like. I don’t know, change the way they write dialogue? Or something? Okay I guess I ought to try.

I think one thing that turns me off is big walls of text. Homestuck eases you into Dialogue. Most of the pages of dialogue have like, one or two things, or they are about only one thing, at least in the early stage. Then, later on, when you’ve already gotten attached to these characters, you get the giant walls of dialogue that Homestuck is now known for, but that’s after you’re already willing to spend time with the characters you’re following. So when I see big walls of text and I’m not sure if I’ll like something and I read it and it doesn’t quite come off as snappy or witty as I would like Dialogue to be, I guess I get. Bored? Is that the word I’m looking for? It might be.

Well, all in all, this fanadventure *seems* like it is, in fact, competently done, and I wish it all the best, but yet another SBURBventure that I don’t jive with has come and gone, it seems.

[maxi-multiverse]

Gods where to begin, everyone’s art is so amazing.

Long gushing and appreciation incoming.

Anniflamma, I go feral watching Poseidon turn into a horse every time in your animatic of Ruthlessness. It is so smooth, just the way the water is done. Your part in Hold ‘Em Down gave me chills too. Just the contrast with the colors on the black, terrifying <3. Also, the way the wind whips around Demeter in There is No Name for Stories from Styx. You capture her wrath so well.

Mircsy, I get chills seeing the montage of the Time Dive in Love in Paradise, you capture everyone’s likeness so beautifully. Also shout out to the twerking Winion, I was crying laughing. Also the pain you capture in Hades’s expressions for Shades in Stories from Styx? Beautiful, absolutely beautiful.

Gwendy, my jaw was on the FLOOR for 600 Strike. And hello, doing all that while sick??? You are a legend. And I was also losing my mind during Odysseus. More blood. Always more blood. And Demeter’s freak out in There Is No Name in Stories from Styx? Oh the AGONY in her.

Elianzis, Scylla. Oh my gods Scylla. Absolutely terrifying in the best way. The blood. The lighting of the torches. The FEAR in everyone’s expressions, especially when Eurylochus realizes what the torches were for. *Chef’s kiss* Also, the design for the Muse in Stories from Styx is so pretty. It was so cool seeing all your character sheets for everyone.

Gigi, your part at the end of Would You Fall in Love With Me Again had me sobbing. The flashes of Penelope back home while she’s crying about how long she’s been waiting OUGH. Also special shout out to “Anyways~” in Love in Paradise, I was cackling at Calypso’s reaction, and also just how DONE Ody looks in I’m Not Sorry for Loving You. And you are so good at the tracking spin shots and I was so happy to see one in My Persephone in Stories from Styx. And their smiles oh my gods, just so soft.

As for some other artists I think deserve a shout out:

Duvetbox’s animatics for Legendary and Odysseus are genuinely one of my favorites. Their style is so sharp and stylized and I genuinely love it. Seriously, go watch their animatics if you haven’t yet they’re so good. And I genuinely cheered for their part in Crossroads in Stories from Styx. Just the pure joy on Hades and Persephone’s faces.

The same goes for Ximena Natzel’s animatics. The use of colors is genuinely so good. Highly recommend their Suffering and Different Beast for the contrast. The way Siren Penelope’s frustration is captured is so well done. Also, Survive. Just. Just Survive. The look of horror on Ody’s face after Polites falls. It sticks with me.

Neal Illustrator’s designs for all the gods are so so so good. I love the Famtheon so much and I was so happy to see her in Stories from Styx with the battle against Cronos considering how good the action was in her God Games animatic.

And finally Wolfythewitch, I would not have gotten into Epic as hard as I did if it wasn’t for them. I love their designs so much, and it so amazing seeing the references to the actual epic in their work. I think when I saw Poseidon’s face in the lead up to Get in the Water I genuinely jumped.

There are so many other animators and artists to shout out but I’d be here all day. You all are the life blood of the series, I’m dead serious. You’re so talented and motivate me to get better at my own art each day. I’ve considered doing my own animatics because of what you’ve all done. Seeing your art makes me happy every time.

Thank you for all the work you’ve put in, from the bottom of my heart. <3

I wanted to do something to combat the negativity that's been in the fandom recently, so if you're a fan of Epic and/or Stories From Styx, please reblog this with your favorite moment from the animatics by @anniflamma @mircsy @ns2dstudios @elianzis @gigizetz and any other artists you want to gush about! (I hope it's okay that I tagged y'all, I wanted you to be able to go through the reblogs and see some nice things!)

I'll go first...

This isn't one moment exactly, but I love love love how AnniFlamma depicts Penelope in her animatic of The Challenge! One of my favorite things about Penelope in Epic is her anger, and you see it so clearly in Anni's portrayal, in everything from her expression to like- the way her hair falls. (That's probably my favorite thing about her part in There is No Name too. The absolute rawness of the way she portrayed Demeter gets me every time).

One of my favorite Mircsy moments has to be the part in her Open Arms animatic where Odysseus is examining the lotus fruit and Polites is just frolicking around with the lotus eaters in the background. I was actually pretty neutral about Polites when I first listened to the musical, and then I watched the absolutely endearing way she portrayed him in Open Arms and got immediately attached

Speaking of Polites, I feel weird saying this is my favorite moment because I cry every time I watch it, but I really like how Gwendy depicted Polites's part in The Underworld. The way Odysseus trips and falls as he runs to him... I'm getting emotional just thinking about it

I love love love the snippet ElianZis did of Storm!! There's just something so visceral about it- you really feel how dire the storm is and how much it's wearing on the crew

And finally- I tried so hard to pick a favorite moment from Gigi's God Games, but it's literally impossible. I've been amazed by how smooth her animatics are right from the beginning, but then I saw God Games and was like, okay, I'm just watching a movie now. It's so impressive

[only-lonely-lovers]

09.12.2022.

tags: fingering, pee

Bird is あ / Avvy is つ

つ：we should take a moment to indeed though think about tsukasa enabling nene's feelings of like. [jenny's sister saying ough… nancy! having sex! voice] about hanako actually having some fetishes pertaining to that which he is into

and yet its so hard to tease hanako without him just leaving

あ：Mm yes i was like, entertained thinking about it earlier, but now I'm just like, relishing at the thought

I think you could thread the needle… it simply would, have to be particular. but i think in the first place we could only get this far if, this was like an ongoing 3way deal, and we are slowly chipping away at Hanako. he's submitting to multiple things, like ugh ah, okay, I permit Tsukasa to watch me get. touched. MGUGHF !! fine we're doing it Like this

Though the terms of service initially, probably are like -- and don't you open your mouth kind of breadcrumb trailed towards this…

つ：I think Tsukasa could boiling water hanako, with some other details….. he could also rope Hanako into staying invested in being horny and playing by, ah, like groping Nene while starting to talk to her, a funny situation of the… girls are talking about you, giggling at you, but also they are fucking. sometimes i think tsukasa/nene fooling around inf ront of him does have the flavor of lesbians doing it for their straight boyfriend

あ：

Mmn yeah I think so too ww… Decidedly, positioning themselves as eyecandy for Hanako to enjoy. I think it makes him empty-headed and just staring at, expression becomes slack-jawed in nature, and Tsukasa logs whenever this happens. Like hm okay, Amane likes when I…

I was going to say, that the greatest component to keep Hanako in place, is just making him enough of a slave to his cock that he doesn't want the situation to end. The scenario is just hot, enough, he's far enough into things that he has that basic "I want to. come." emotion and doesn't want to leave high and dry — and it wouldnt feel, satisfying or powerful to storm out, and be all heartpounding, sweaty and flushed elsewhere, all alone. He's deep into it enough that he wants to just see it through

You could really weaponize Nene's body, in reality… You flash a guy a tit and his brain hiccups, you know

つ：yeah i don't think he can protest if tsukasa sweetens the deal a little

I like the idea as well of Tsukasa urging Nene and Amane to change positions.. encouraging her to like, stand above him, him to lay back, but doing so very discreetly, almost like Amane won't notice he's been so moved until a beat later

rubs his sternum and eases him backwards

just to let nene be like omg….. me step on him. he will really let me do this? tsukasa is a wizard omg

あ：oh like Amane in the progress of being moved is like mmm.... feels good

つ：tsukasa is elegantly juggling the plates of like well now amane is under her, i will show him her pussy he will enjoy that very much so.

let nene-chan feel like a goddess up here, and get more leverage to press down. sometimes i think tsukasa does just rip her tights to expose her pussy and stuff. she has to deal withit

あ：small price to pay etc. but GOD will it freaking WORK. Hanako is down looking like hot wind has descended upon him, ouighf… hh… hakk hagk hhoruhg….

If I think about a guy's fetishes…. the angle of looking up at Nene and really drinking in the perspective of, like legs/thighs, pussy nestled between… Tsukasa serpentining around, handling her, it just will make him horny. It's EMBARRASSING but it's also like mguhghh A SHOWWW for meeee

but i want to enjoy the big show.

つ：you add enough elements then you can basically dirty talk nene after and whispering to nene will just become sexy to hanako instead of hives-y hanako: the girls are. talkign about how amazing my hog is

あ：like his mind is racing to guess what they're saying but is only generating cumrotted porno stuff. talking about how it looks, real nice. the girls want me so carnally….

つ：hanako would indeed enjoy pervert perspective from below….. tsukasa is artfully removing articles of her clothing, mussing with her bow, ripped her tights, bunching her skirt…..

あ：there's many ways to sweeten the pot… eurrr really thinking about a guy's fetishes and, Tsukasa's fingers spreading pussy, lingering touches, slipping in her for even a second… he simply likes it if it all feels like a display for him to witness….

I think in earlier instances, Hanako can get away with being all huffy and like "ugh, Tsukasa, c'mon…" about him being invasive and involved, but. it's like in this moment you have to accept that you LIKE. when Tsukasa spreads her pussy for you. you just like the look, it lookksssss hot it's sexy…

つ：i'm getting distracted but i wish tsukasa could make her pee and catch her off guard with this somehow and make amane feel surprised/startled

あ：no this is good. I'm thinking about the perspective…. it's a good way to watch a girl pee.

つ：I do think it would be fun though avvy's brief detour is i'd love Nene to try to whine privately to tsukasa about needing to pee and tugging at his wrist. and tsukasa staring at, amane below her. staring at the bathroom around them. knowing amane's …. things. and just suddenly goes SO brutally hard all at once both pressing firmly into her bladder, wrapping an arm around her body, and viciously fingering her

before Amane can be like TSUKASA [he's too busy [[EXHALING ALL BREATH LOUDLY LIKE AUSTIN POWERS FIRST]]] get it… going. get him hit with it

really rubbing a girl's clit once she gets going to force her to keep clenching and persisting. also have that hand spreading everything for a clear aimed shot.

あ：Ahmm the way Tsukasa can be so PRECISE… it's really good to utilize for something like this. Especially since Nene already was enjoying catering to Amane's fetishes, this is surely, in reality, just another way she can do that, she'll see… hehe.

I really like the thought of squeezing a girl's bladder pointedly, like there's no way she could expect such a thing

つ：going to pop the seal with precision through this

あ：and you'd love for Amane to be down there and simply having to experience the sight, sensation, and then just get. like dizzy, about it.

つ：just got him horny enough that he can't be thinking about this feeling like anything resembling being subjugated to anything…. and, it's complicated. it IS all in service to him-- just had to reaaaally get him into that mental state via putting on the shows first…..

あ：I think it's just like mouth gets dry. Staring at the stream. watching ah, the way it's running down her legs… and through Tsukasa's fingers…

Mmm actually would like Amane to like… possessed, lurch to feel it hit his face…

つ：tsukasa is flirty, what I like about pussy and pee is that redirecting a stream is as simple as slightly tugging the skin this way or that… just flick it upwards with a pull to get his face. hehe.

hey

あ：fsdjkgh

つ：its ok i got you brother

あ：I suppose we are both going to meet in the middle here

つ：tsukasa feeling well i'll be darn happy twin synchronicity feel

あ：you knew what I wanted.

As overwhelmed as Nene is, I hope she can like eventually process the sight of Hanako down there like. i think looking, like he's really basking in it, a guy who is lost in the sauce like a-ah. is that…. is that. what. is going on.

つ：well he is… of the bathroom

あ：it IS in the title, isn't it.

つ：i thinkshe would also be like TSUKASA THIS ISNT WHAT WE AGREED ON...!!!

あ：Yes jfdhgdf

つ：why do i trust you i thought we were together on this!!!!

あ：we were both supposed to be miettes trusting each other. but you betrayed me

it's okay girl just let a guy lick your pussy… he needs it take pity on him

つ：cute if amane started just pawing upwards like a brat like mmngnh… mn. giveme

あ：give. give it

つ：tsukasa like hai hai FORCES NENE DOWN i like amane sitting up…… a nice position to eat pussy in. leisurely sits, nene a leetle having to bend her legs, bc he is short

あ：it's a fun skew, he wouldn't normally be like this

つ：tsukasa's hand is nearby, and amane has the wild urge to grasp his wrist briefly to suck piss off his fingers

あ：Ahh yes… guy who is lost in the sauce. a moment to press the palm against his face too… need this Just want to feel hand… palm… tongue against it This is like. where tsukasa's propeller hat spins

つ：i do not expect to be more than accessory. and it is always a profound joy. loses mouth for a moment.

i think even as tsukasa is very integrated…. it's still just the way he operates, seeing himself as a moment enhancer and background accellerant i'm too used to being stringpuller!!

あ：It is his intuitive thought process, just thinking of himself as puppeteering things into place in a very like…. clinical way, like I'm just putting everyone into place. but it's not about me doing it… but you are wrong!!

it's like oh tsukasa it has to be about you… otherwise you wouldnt be allowed to so much as graze her pussy

つ：would not be allowed!!! it must be these nice hands, good gestures.... actively enhance nene's beauty, accentuate it. like ribbons. anyone else would be nasty crone hands

あ：it really could only be Tsukasa to handle her so, appealingly… They play off of one another in a way that is so complimentary it's like eating the cheese and the grape

つ：its relieving to have amane engage in a scene without necessarily having to maintain this over the top veneer of dominating, fklsdj;kl its almost a little insecure to do so, you know

let a girl pee on you….. and step on your dick. it won't lessen your power, it will feel good. feel spoiled instead placidly eat out nene for a long time…..

あ：Noo, like, it would be good for him to submit to this side of him, it's extent and real!! there's no need to "put it on" all the time w. ah sometimes you're juuust a 13 yo boy, so you're dumb and horny and 1000 yard stare watching things happen like unmgh… sex

it all feels good. burying your face against pussy…. noooo thoughts necessary

つ：tsukasa feeling mmmm❤️ crawls between nene's legs like a creature to get to amane's cock to finish him off like this belly to the floor. nene's legs like an A above him. a very leisurely, slow BJ, though….

nothing hurried, just enough stimulation, to not rush him through but to give him something…. not meant to distract from nene-- only to accompany nicely.

あ：aghhh god. i'm sleepy and out of it enough that it's like. i'm immersed and feeling the "what? if orgot. you could suck me off." nice and slow…. mghh…. the way amane's hands could alternate pawing at nene and then down at tsukasa…

pleasant way to wrap up… feels like coming would happen so easily and fluidly, weak jitters… nene can feel his quickened breff and getting arrhythmic while eating her out. good job girlies it was good

つ：tsukasa is like ^^ … nene feels. boneless. run dry flumps to the floor

あ：she is going to look, like a mess <3 flops with you though we lie together liek corpses for a sec

[frenziedslashers]

Maybe Rick Grimes who has eyes for a rancher? I work on a ranch for my uncle and I’m craving some Rick content where he has the hots for a rancher and is almost always checking them out. Dropping comments about how strong they are or how good they are with their hands 🥴

Maybe they help Rick at the prison with the garden and Ricks secretly loving every second because not only does he get to learn from them, but he also has an excuse to stare at their sweaty muscles. Maybe even get a couple peaks of their ass when their bent over ykyk. Bonus points if Rick goes to take their cowboy hat as a joke and they tell Rick about the cowboy hat rule after he’s done so (take the hat, ride a cowboy) and Ricks FLUSTERED but not complaining either 😮‍💨

It’d be awesome if you could do it as a Male!reader fic too! Maybe some smut if you’re okay with it 🫣 thank youu!

Hey There, Cowboy

A/N: OUGH, ANON I- FERAL- I have been thinking about this since I read it when you sent it to me last night JESUS- I love this idea so much (Also, HELLO FELLOW RANCHER. I am not a full time one, but I occasionally help my neighbors. Goodluck during calving season this year if you help with that/are around the area. Idk if Calving season is the same for others outside of NE.)

I am frothing at the mouth with this request though. Thank you for doing Gods work 🙏 hopefully this satisfies:))

Warnings: MLM, AMAB! Reader, Top!reader, Bottom!Rick, anal, anal fingering. Ricky Dicky is Dick Riding in this story, not metaphorically either.

REQUESTING INFO || TWD MASTERLIST

It was hot, so goddamn hot outside. Your clothes felt like they were melting into your skin as your sweat bled through them. Your blue jeans were itchy, and your boots were feeling uncomfortable as you turned up the soil by hand. You never thought you would miss the equipment back on the ranch. You never thought you'd be praying to the heavens for a Rototiller, but here you were. Pleading to the heavens for an easier way to do this.

Rick was making his way to where you were in the garden with a couple of waters for you both. He was supposed to be over to help you about thirty minutes ago, but Maggie and Carol needed help with something inside the Prison. He was starting to wonder if they held him back on purpose because when he saw you he swore he felt his brain turn to mush.

The sweat was glistening off your skin perfectly. Your button-up shirt was clinging to your back, and the sleeves were rolled up past your elbows. You had reached up to lift your hat off your head running a hand over the top of your head with a soft sigh. He couldn't hear you, but he could see the way your shoulders rose and fell just like they did anytime you sighed or yawned.

He finally swallowed the saliva that was pooling in his mouth, approaching you further while trying to shake all those thoughts about you that plagued his mind - constantly.

"Hey, Rick," you chimed, that charming smile gracing your lips as you looked over at him. Crossing your arms partially over the handle of the hoe in your hands while you land forward on it. "Finally make some time for me?" He pursed his lips, dropping his head a bit with a chuckle, which made your heart ache for him a little more. You loved how bashful the Deputy could be. Especially around you.

"I brought you some water, you look like you could use some," the hum you let out made him shudder. His jaw clenched as his hands slightly flexed around the bottle in his hand. You noticed, taking the bottle with a small and prideful smirk. "So, what about farming do you really need help with? It isn't that hard, y'know." "Well, you know.." Rick pondered, tearing his eyes from you as you drank from your water. His face was a little red as he stared down at the dirt. "The uh... Planting part? I don't know, really. I've just never done it. Always wanted a garden of my own, though." He spoke, and you chuckled, nodding. "It's truly not that hard, city boy," he peaked up at the nickname, smiling himself. "Well, then lead the way, cowboy."

The both of you got to work. You taught him how to use the hoe efficiently. "It's like sweepin', sorta?" Rick commented, and you tilted your head, shrugging. "Uh, sorta?" you chuckled, patting his back which had his head turning to peak at you. You were quick to let your hand drop, fingers brushing his lower back before wandering over to the bag of seeds.

Rick's eyes were on you the entire time. Still, half-working until you bent over. Ass facing him while you brushed your hand through the packet of seeds. You noticed his movements stop when you did this. Biting back the smirk that threaten to burst free until you grabbed the package of cucumbers from the bag on the ground. Turning back to head over to your friend. Holding yourself high which only seemed to make Rick stare at you more. "Take a break from that, I got the section over yonder 'tilled. We can plant these over there." Your voice was low and sweet. Fingers tucking the packet of seeds into the pocket on Rick's chest. Hands patting it afterward with a grin. "'Nless you'd rather keep tilin' while I plant, city boy?" The way you said city boy had his brain shorting. Raking his brain for words that would make sense. You always put him at a loss for words, it seemed. "I uh... I can plant." You chuckled, leading him over to the section you marked off for the cucumbers.

It wasn't but a couple hours longer until you were both done. The soil of the area roughed up and the seeds that you guys decided on were planted. Wiping some sweat from your forehead as you looked over your work, Rick standing right beside you. His eyes fell to the ground, following your hat which fell by his feet. He stared at it for a moment, hearing the soft sigh you let out when you noticed it fall. Rick was quick to lean down and pick it up before you could, though.

Your eyes watched with a curious gaze as he swept the dirt off of it with his hands. Inspecting it before reaching up for his own hat. Trading the hats with a satisfied hum. "Hmm, maybe Hershel's right, maybe I do need a new hat." He commented with a smug grin, looking up at you with a brow raised. "How do I look? Less city?" He asked with a small snicker, though his smile faded a little at the look on your face. Wondering if maybe he did something wrong.

You took a moment to respond, watching with a smirk as you stared over at the other man. A throaty chuckle left you which made Rick look even more confused than before. "What?" He had no idea what you found so funny, "Oh nothin', I thought you were proposin' somethin' at first, but I forget you city boys aren't familiar with the hat rule." You cooed, taking his own hat from his hands. Placing it on top of your head. He furrowed his brows, tilting his head while looking you over for an answer. "The hat rule?" He asked, reaching up to rub at his jaw with a soft chuckle. Looking to the side, at the fence where the sun set over. Then back over to you, attempting to read the look in your eyes, but he was at a lost. "Well, what's this hat rule?" You hummed, rocking back on your heels while your thumbs slipped into your belt loops.

"Guess you'll have to figure that out yourself, Deputy," your teasing tone made his fingers twitch. His eyes watching you closely, flinching a little when you reached up to flick his hat up - your hat. "I gotta get back and relieve Miss Maggie of watch, I'll catch ya around." You spoke, beginning to walk off, before stopping a few steps in front of Rick. "And Rick?" He hummed in question, looking at you as you turned your head to look over your shoulder. "You do look rather nice in that hat." You smiled, tipping the hat on your head with a wink before wandering back towards the prison.

Everyone was quick to notice you coming inside wearing Rick's hat. Whispers amongst them all about what the deal was. The whispers only got more frequent when they saw Rick was wearing your hat. Daryl looked at Rick with a knowing smirk. Or at least he thought he knew. Rick was the most oblivious guy in the world though. The moment you were in that guard tower, and Maggie was back to see Rick with your hat on, she was quick to ask the question everyone was thinking.

"Did he give ya that hat, or did ya take it from him?" She smirked, and Rick shrugged, his fingers, playing with his gun holster. "Well, he dropped it... So I put it on." Daryl rolled his eyes with a chuckle. "What? Hershel said I needed a farming hat," he protested, and Maggie giggled. "Did he say anything about it? Ain't often that a rancher lets just anyone wear their hat." Rick shrugged again. Leaning against the wall near the two. "Well, he mentioned this hat rule? I assume it means I have to let him wear my hat, I think." Daryl laughed at this. An actual laugh left the hunter's throat, and Rick felt his face go red with embarrassment. What, did he say something wrong? Was that not what it meant?

Maggie shook her head with a grin, and Rick swallowed thickly. Shifting from foot to foot a bit anxiously. "Well, what the hell does it mean?" He asked Maggie, and Maggie raised her hands, a smirk on her face. "How about you go ask him?" Rick pouted, furrowing his brows in frustration. "You guys know he ain't gonna tell me! The bastard told me I was supposed to figure it out myself!" Rick was growing agitated, reaching up to pinch his brow with a deep inhale, which followed a deep exhale.

"That ain't no way to talk about a guy who wants to screw yer brains out." Daryl commented, and Rick felt his face grew even hotter. No, his whole body was hot. Looking up at the hunter with a terrified look. "What?" Daryl shook his head with a sigh, Maggie pursing her lips. "Wear the hat, ride the cowboy," Maggies voice caught Rick's attention. His head turning to look at one, then the other. "Wait, what?" "That's what the hat rule is, dumbass," Daryl spat, and Rick felt his insides turning. "That's why we were shocked he let you wear it," "Plus, he's wearing your hat, shoulda given it to someone else with how oblivious ya are." Daryl commented, and Maggie scowled at him. "Look, you still got time, he's up in the guard tower, probably waiting. You can go tell him that ain't what ya want." Maggie told Rick with a sympathetic smile. She was certain that the look on his face was because he didn't want to ride a cowboy.

But truth be told. Shit, he wanted nothing more than to ride said cowboy.

He nodded though. Rubbing his sweaty palms on his thighs before taking a step back. "Yeah, I'll be back, gonna go... Gonna go talk to 'im..." His voice was soft, obviously lost in thought as he turned and made his way out of the prison. Daryl just snorted, watching Rick stumble away. "How much ya wanna bet he does more than jus' talk." Maggie shrugged, folding her arms. "I ain't bettin' on somethin' I know I'd lose. Ya ever had to work with those two? I ain't ever seen Rick try and undress someone with his eyes more." She added and the both chuckled at her comment. She wasn't wrong, they both knew it, too.

The knock on the door that led up into the guard tower made you jump. You were lost in thought when it had come and scurried over to where it was. Opening it with a raised brow, squinting and shielding your eyes from the light that shone in. "Shit, sorry, can I uh, come in?" Rick asked, turning off his flash light, and you felt your stomach doing flips. Moving so the other could come inside. "Sure thing, got somethin' on your mind?" You asked, moving back to sit where you were on the floor prior to Rick's appearance. Watching as he moved to sit beside you. "Yeah, I do, actually." You kept quiet, hoping that he would continue what he had to say.

Rick didn't even know how to word what he wanted to say to you, though. His hands playing with your hat that was now in his lap. His legs were outstretched as his back leaned against the wall. "I uh..." You frowned, worrying that maybe you did something wrong. Maybe he asked around and figure out what the hat rule was, he wasn't stupid. He was far from it. "Look, if this is about that stupid hat. Yours is over there," you pointed off to the side, Rick following your finger. Spotting his hat which lay neatly on top of the book you had been reading. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," you spoke, and Rick smiled. He chuckled, and you didn't know how to take it.

He turned a little. He looked over at you with a grin, thankful the dim lights hid the blush that crept up his neck. "They told me what it meant," you felt your stomach sink, frown growing a little. You were conflicted with the look he was giving you and his tone of voice, and he could tell. Shaking his head while reaching out to place his hand on the side of your face. The action caused you to take in a sharp breath. "Is it true?" He asked, and you raised a brow. Trying to get him to carry on further. "If I wear the hat I gotta ride the cowboy?" He smirked, and you felt your own smirk grow. "Only if ya want to, Deputy."

Rick didn't give you or himself any time to think before he was pulling you in for a kiss. You were quick to deepen it, too. Your body shifted and your hands moved Rick so he was laying down on your makeshift bed. A soft sigh left his lips that bled into your mouth. He'd never expected that he'd wind up in this situation with another man. Not until you came into his life, and then it was all he could hope would happen.

Your hands were quick to roam his body, his own doing the same. Both of you seemed to have the same idea, too. Rick reached down to tug your shirt off, and you were doing the same to him. You leaned back, tugging your shirt over your head, and Rick couldn't help but stare. Even in the dimly lit tower, you were beautiful. "Hey," he pulled his eyes from your bare skin to look up at your eyes, propped up on his elbows. "Your turn, sugar," his hair seemed to stand on end at the pet name. Quick to work on his own shirt. Sitting up in order to pull it over his head.

The two of you shared a look for a moment or two. Your eyes leaving Ricks in order to trail down Rick's chest, your hands following your gaze. "Mr Grimes, I've seen ya God knows how many times shirtless," you muttered, pressing him back down. Leaning over so your lips could come down to meet his chest. "And I don't think I'll ever get used to the sight," your words made him smile, a soft snicker leaving his throat. "Yeah? How d'ya think I feel? Today out in the garden," his hips bucked, a groan leaving his throat when your hand came down to palm him through his jeans and you bit down on his left peck. "Shit," he muttered, "Wanted to fuck ya against the wall," he growled, and you snickered. "Now now, Rick, the rules are you ride the cowboy, and," you kissed over his stomach, "from your position. I don't think it'll be too hard gettin' ya in that position." He rolled his eyes with a huff. He didn't argue though, he just needed some sort of release.

The lower your lips got the antsier Rick seemed to get. Soft huffs left his throat each time you bit and sucked on his skin. Your fingers finally come to his belt loop. Undoing his gun holster at a pace that had him wanting to scream and pull his hair out. He didn't think you could move any slower. It was near agonizing.

Ricks hands had other ideas, though. Reaching down to your own belt loop. The frustrated groan that he let out when you grabbed at his wrists only made your smirk grow. "Now, now, City Boy, we gotta learn manners now, do we?" You hummed, pinning his wrists above his head while leaning back up so your face was above his. Your hips rolling down to press firmly against his own. Biting back a moan that threatened to spill from your lips. Rick, on the other hand, let his own moan spill from his mouth. Even throwing his head back in the process. A chuckle leaving your throat as you leant down to kiss on the side of his throat.

You licked beside his Adams Apple, Rick humming softly at the warm feeling. "What does Mr. Grimes want, huh?" You asked, and Rick let out another sigh. His hips tried to roll up to get any more friction that he could from you, but you were quick to pull your hips back. Rick let out a whine this time. A whine. This was new, and not at all what you expected. "Oh, Ricky boy, I might have to give ya a little something just for that," your voice was dripping with pride. You were bringing the leader of your group into a writhing whining mess. He was practically putty in your hands, definitely not what you expected from the man below you.

"Fuck, just do it," he strained when your hands came down to his belt. "Do what, Rick, I gotta hear ya say it." You cooed, undoing his belt while you waited for him to muster up his words. "Goddammit, just fuck me already!" He nearly shouted, and your eyes shot up to his with shock. A smile slowly creeping up on your face. You weren't gonna lie, it turned you on hearing him so needy for you. "Well, any other guy I'd say no for not sayin' please," you sighed, letting go of his wrists in order to sit up and undo your own belt this time. Motioning for Rick to take his pants off as well. "I like you, though. So I'll give you a freebie." He shuddered once more when you winked down at him.

Something about you towering over him with that look on your face while you got yourself out of your pants had him drooling. Once he got his clothes and boots off, and was completely bare before you. He had no idea what to do. "Well, ya still wanna ride?" You asked, and you saw the hesitant look in Rick's eyes. Smirk falling as you shifted back forward and kneeled between his legs. Your hands reaching out in order to hold his shoulders. "Hey," he looked back up at you when you spoke. "You've never done this... With a guy, have ya?" He shook his head, a soft and shaky 'no' falling from his lips. "I'll guide ya through it. If you wanna stop, just say," you looked around the tower in search of something to say, pursing your lips. "Hat, alright? Just say hat and I'll stop. That'll be our safe word, how 'bout that?" He nodded, smiling softly. "All right, that sounds good," he chuckled, and so did you as well.

He sat there for a moment longer, and so did you. It wasn't until he realized how painfully hard he was again that he finally broke the silence. "Well," He muttered, glancing down at your dick. Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. "What do I?" "I can help ya, Rick, just lay back. I'll take care of you." You hummed, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips before leaning forward to grab a bottle of lube from beside your book as well. You had found it a few weeks ago on a supply run and grabbed it just in case. You nearly left it behind, god, you were glad you hadn't.

Rick did just as he was told. Shifting a little uncomfortable. He was nervous, to say the least. What if the only reason he thought he wanted this was that he was still partially grieving the loss of his wife - ex-wife. That couldn't be, though. He'd started liking you well before Lori had died. Probably when he first saw you interact with Carl. Back after you all fled the camp by the quarry. Something about it just made his heart melt. Seeing how well you treated his boy. The feelings only grew stronger from there. The lingering touches, the looks, the flirtatious words, it was all so much.

He let out a gasp when you yanked him further up your thighs by his legs. A smirk on your lips. "Ya still with me?" Rick nodded, "Yeah, sorry, just thinkin'" You tilted your head, squirting some of the lube on your fingers. Rubbing it together and Rick watched with needy eyes. "About what?" You asked, genuinely curious, "about how much I've wanted this," you looked up at him with a soft smile. Leaning down to press a kiss to his lips again. "Well, I'll try not to disappoint."

Before Rick could say anything back, your finger was circling his entrance. His eyebrows furrowed at the sensation. It was certainly a new feeling. "Am I good to go?" You asked, and he nodded, kissing your shoulder with a soft sigh. "Ready as ever, cowboy." You smiled at that, your index finger pressing inside of him. The intrusion made his body flinch a little. His hands clinging onto you at the new and foreign feeling. You shushed him by kissing on his neck and shoulders. Muttering soft and sweet nothings in his ear as you continued your work. Curling your finger, and smirking when a soft moan left his lips when your finger brushed his prostate.

You continued to add another finger. Stretching him out until you could add a third. It wasn't long before Rick was trying to rock himself down onto you. Soft pants and huffs left the man's lips. "Please," he muttered against your lips, "Please, let me try," he muttered. You knew what he meant, and didn't try to get him to properly ask. "Ya sure?" he nodded, "Gotta repay you for lettin' me wear yer hat," he slurred, voice dripping with lust and want. You only chuckled, giving a soft all right before pulling your fingers out from him. Rick winced at the feeling of emptiness. God, it was uncomfortable, but it had to be worth it.

You rolled onto your back, Rick throwing a leg over you in order to straddle your lap. He felt nervous again but chased the feelings away. It was so hard not to be anxious when he'd never done this, though. Plus, the stupid smirk on your face that always had his body acting in ways he couldn't control.

When you reached for the tub he was quick to take it from you. Your eyes watching with a lustful gaze. "Let me," you nodded, letting your hands rest on his hips. Stroking up an down.

His hand caught the lube. Tossing the bottle to the side, rubbing the gel in his hand before reaching down for your cock. A hiss left your lips when he gripped you. His hand gave you a few slow strokes, thumb brushing against your tip. It had you letting out the softest of moans. Rick eating up every sound that you let out. He wanted so badly to hear more of that, too.

It wasn't long before he was positioning himself over top of you, and sinking down on you. He winced, trying his best not to scream out at the intrusion. This was a lot different than fingers. His body folded forward, face buried in the side of your neck. You were rubbing at his back, trying to ease the tension in his body. Muttering soft words against his shoulder in order to help him relax. "Shit," Rick muttered, his lips brushing the side of your neck. Panting against your skin.

Once he felt his body relax, Jesus, nothing could prepare you for the feelings you felt. He started off slow, rocking back and forth. Getting a feel of what you had to offer. Soft noises left the both of your lips. Then he actually started moving up and down. Hips bouncing against you. "Holy hell, Rick," you breathed out, and that only spurred him to move faster. His hands holding at your chest in order to lean forward and get just the right angle. A moan ripping from his chest when your hips began thrusting up in order to meet his pace.

When you started stroking him, he was done for. Grunt and moans fell from his lips while he repeated your name like a prayer. Dull nails dug into your chest while you jerked him off as he rode you. "I'm gonna," he muttered, and you nodded, reaching up to cup the side of his face. Bringing his head down to pull him in for a kiss. "Cum for me, Rick," you muttered against his lips, and he nodded. A groan ripped from his chest as his thighs began to burn with each roll and bounce they gave. One final tug and he was coming undone against you. His seed spilled out onto your stomach and chest.

You were quick to flip him over, hips slamming in and out of him in order to reach or own release. You were already close, and Rick's orgasm only brought you closer. The way he moaned your name into your mouth and clung to your body. Even in your best and favorite fantasies, you never imagined something as amazing as that. Hips finally stuttered as you pulled out to finish on the other's stomach. A moan of his name and a follow of curses leaving your own mouth.

Once you fell onto your back next to him. After cleaning the both of you off with a rag you were using to keep cool on the back of your neck with water. You furrowed your brow. Rick was laughing softly to himself. It was a tired and faint laugh, but with the small tower, and the close proximity. You could hear it just fine. "What?" You questioned, reaching over to brush some of the man's hair from his forehead. Propping yourself on your elbow in order to look at him better. Noticing a few hickeys you had left on the mans chest and shoulders. "I told Maggie and Daryl I was jus' coming' up here to talk to you about the hat thing." He chuckled, reaching up to cup the side of your face. Smiling when you turned your face to kiss his palm. "Yeah?" He nodded, "Yeah, I don't think they thought I was gonna go through with it." He snickered, and you smiled faintly.

"Well, do you regret it?" He furrowed his brow. "Hell no, might have to make you steal my hat so we can try it the other way 'round next time." He snickered, and you snickered back. "We'll see about that, Sheriff." You sighed, laying back down. Pulling a blanket over your torsos while pulling him close. "How 'bout you rest. We got some crops to water in the morn'..." You hummed, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Hmm, if we even wanna get up." You snickered, "Well, if you don't I will. I ain't lettin' the people starve because you decide to sleep in." He sighed, he couldn't argue with that. Smiling softly to himself before turning to wrap his arms tight around you. Pulling you in for a final kiss before bidding his goodnight.

[gremlins-hotel]

(sorry for being unhinged in your inbox)

Ok as someone who has put many things in my mouth that I should not have have, and if I scale it by say x 3 if we take Alfred strength (the average human bite force is 180 psi, so I'll make Alfred's 500 at the minimum) here is what he can most likely bite through

I've bitten through leather with some difficulty (dont ask) so I'll assume he can do that with like 2 good chomps.

I've also bitten clean through a plank of wood once, it took a while, but it is possible, so Alfred bites through it slightly faster than a beaver.

General cloth like linen or cotton isnt hard to break so with the right angle, and mind you this is with human shaped teeth so tearing isnt very good, he could probably bite it out in one go, or grind it and fray it very easily.

Hemp rope and burlap is significantly harder and much itchier, and considering how tightly everything is woven, it's kind of as hard to do as leather straight up, and the fibre makes it even slightly harder.

As for sheet metal Ive managed to dent it but never cut through it, I think because if how flat sheet metal is, hed be able to do this as we do with aluminium.

Most plastics are easy for people so hed have no trouble

I've managed to bite through a feldspar and flourite, but nothing harder, so I'll bet he could probably bite through quartz and maybe topaz if we're pushing it.

I may return with further findings.

Once again apologies

okay first off i'm glad i'm not the only one who's put weird shit in my mouth

second this gave me many thoughts. asdkjfh

tl;dr this man needs to be studied and also to never be let outside without a leash. don't let him bite things.

the human mouth is so lamely shaped for biting inopportune things because we have cheeks. big cheeks for holding food. biting stuff like rocks would be so much simpler if we could reach our flat, grinding molars with more ease. and while incisors are meant for tearing, you're right that human incisors are not meant for wood or metal, but rather for vegetal material (frugivory, folivory).

but also consider that human teeth can still very much break skin. the most dangerous part of a human bite, though, is the bacteria in our mouths rather than the puncture wound itself per se,,,

also was it you that put in the tags "mohs hardness scale but it's if alfred can bite through them"? because i loved this tag so much sldkfjhgsads i stan this new mohs hardness scale. also i am SO sorry to tag you again but @if-you-like-pina-colada-s made a very very wonderful addition to my ramblings regarding bite force. you postulate 500 psi at least (fun fact - that's 100 more psi than the grip strength of an average adult bald eagle, bc i'm silly and think about grip strength, too). piña got a number for the stronger nations at ~3,000 psi, which approaches a crocodile's bite force, and if you've seen what a croc can do with their sheer amount of closing power,,,, ough. i find this to be a wide range full of fun to play with.

also i think i went insane one night when i had to remember that in canon we see a probably 3-year-old alfred lift and swing a bison. if we assume your average three-year-old male weighs about 31.8 lbs (CDC) while a male american bison (Bison bison) can weigh up to 2,200 lbs. if we are to believe these shenanigans, that's 69.18x alfred's body weight if the bison is at its heaviest. even a female, which tops at 1200 lbs, is still 37.74x. he's the real ant-man fr!! because i'm telling you someone reminded me of that bit and i was sitting like bro what the hell,,,

this whole conversation is just making me want to compare alfred's skull and jaw to a robust australopithecine. like okay paranthropus robustus boy. gonna start calling him a gorilla fr. 1300 psi? 1500 like a jaguar? fuck this dude do NOT put your mouth anywhere near me. please fuck off immediately.

[strangerhands]

AAAAAAAAAAAA JUST THE IDEA OF THIS AU IS TOO GOOD. TOO AMAZING. IM GOING TO YELL SO LOUD.

Danger, danger! You didn’t even need your spidey-sense to tell you that; he wears the warning like a badge of honour. <-YEAAAAAA BABY

He makes it look easy, but a shudder crawls down your spine—you just know what he’s capable of. <-🤭😋😝

For all his snark and murderous tendencies (which you hope are just a joke), <-🤭😇😇😇

Something brushes up against your cheek, roughly textured but trying to be so, so gentle. <-OHHH... GOD.

He keeps his hand extended towards you, shaking it a little for emphasis, <-jake lockley i am going to kiss you.

With wet curls stuck to his forehead, <-

When you don’t respond, Jake’s expression softens, the lines of his face giving way to an understanding look that makes you feel smaller than his antagonism ever could. The fires have mostly died down now, but warm reds and oranges still flicker along the side of his jaw, in corners of his irises. His arms feel less like a cage and more like a lifeline, keeping you from drifting out to sea. <-im gonna scream this is so so beautiful…

Jake’s grinning when you pull back to look at him, all boyish confidence, and you nearly forget to breathe. <-yeah,

On the way out, he picks up your mask from where you discarded it, slapping it a few times against his leg to brush off the soot and ash. <-JAKE LOCKLEY I AM GOING TO KISS YOU.

Distantly, you wonder how his glowing white eyes would look in the dark. Probably a bit stupid, is your conclusion. <-😭😭😭

once you slip on your mask, he gives you a little pat on the head before you can bat him away. Jake leans away enough to avoid your attempts to tug at his hood, but at the next opportunity, he reaches over again, the little shit, hand drawing in close, and your spidey-sense, superhuman and extraordinary, it’s—

It’s never been quieter. <-

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH… OH... OUGH… THIS WAS SO INCREDIBLE. AS ALWAYS. OUGH. OH. OHMYGODDDDDDAAAAAAAAUUUGGGHHHH. I AM SO IN LOVE WITH HIM… AND THIS WORLD YOUVE CREATED… AND YOUR WRITING… JUST TOO GOOD… TOO AMAZING… TOO BEAUTIFUL... TOO PERFECT… GOD… the way you describe everything and anything… just so phenomenal. i am so in love with it all. always.<3

direction to perfection; j.l.

pairing: jake lockley x reader, marc and steven are briefly alluded to but do not make an appearance

summary: one day, your vigilante lifestyle leads to you to crossing paths with a moon-serving weirdo in white bandages. jake promises that he won't get in the way, but there's something about his smirk that has your spidey-sense tingling, and what do you know—

he sets a building on fire.

it's not supposed to be romantic.

warnings: depictions of fighting and violence, injuries, hurt and comfort, reader is a spider-person and thus has a spider-person sense of humour😭.

word count: 3.8k

notes: part of the @MOONKNIGHT-EVENTS bingo! prompt: “'bonfire”

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

You have a love-hate relationship with your spidey-sense—it’s useful enough to give you a heads-up, but it’s not exactly a get-out-of-danger-free card.

It kicks in as you’re soaring through the air, an errant pulse in your veins that tells you one thing: MOVE. But there’s no time—before you even manage to lift your web-shooter, one of Doc Ock’s mechanical arms whips around and collides hard against your torso. For a moment, you feel your ribs crack underneath the metal, the sharp pains accompanied by a real stupid thought, even by your standards: guess I’m going to call in sick tomorrow—

—and then you finally hit the brick wall behind you. The air is ripped from your lungs and your thoughts short-circuit into nothingness. New York’s evening rush hour is drowned out by high-pitched ringing. If it weren’t for your wallcrawling ability, you’d be falling forty stories down onto the traffic below. Instead, rooted into the small crater you’ve made into an office building, all you can do is languish in what surely must be multiple broken bones and a slightly bruised ego for not being able to dodge a hit that you saw coming.

Speaking of—there’s another one heading towards you right now.

You leap upwards without a second thought, just narrowly avoiding becoming a shitty claw-machine prize as the arm lodges into the wall where your head used to be. Spots dance across your vision and you groan—your body does not want to move.

Suspended between two buildings, Doc Ock’s mechanical arms dig into concrete and brick as she follows you up. Her voice is deceptively empathetic. “Down so soon, little spider? I expected more from you!”

One of the arms rears back again but distantly, there’s the clench of a trigger—and it gets pinned behind her by a golden grappling hook.

The wire grows taut then there he is, using the reeling mechanism to lunge upwards. All the momentum is channeled into his crescent blade as Jake jams it between the plates of the trapped arm; it jerks like a wounded animal, suddenly uncoordinated and stiff. When it lashes out again, he easily dodges and jumps across the buildings onto the fire escape next to you.

“Mierda! You okay?”

Glowing white eyes, wide with concern—the sight is enough to shake you out of your concussive stupor. Jake extends a hand, and you take it readily, allowing him to help you up onto the rickety platform.

“Just peachy,” you wheeze as you lean almost your entire body weight against him.

This was supposed to be a simple mission. It wasn’t even supposed to be a mission in the first place, but one detained drug dealer led to another, which led to a smuggler and a mercenary and a goddamn gym teacheruntil you were faced with a whole corrupt laboratory that tied back to Doc Ock’s operations.

Jake got looped in somewhere between the mercenary and the gym teacher, apparently answering some kind of divine calling of his own. Egyptian god of the moon? Protecting travelers of the night? You just call the people you save New Yorkers, no fancy labelling here.

But you’re not so prideful as to turn away help when you need it, especially when it comes gift-wrapped in superhuman strength and a bullet-proof cape. Even though you catch him giving himself these looks in the windows you pass by or having whole conversations to himself under his breath—you’ve seen weirder.

Like now: There’s a clear conflict happening in—on?—Doc Ock. The damaged arm flails wildly through the air, and the other three can’t seem to decide between trying to calm it down, retreat, or kill you.

Those white eyes turn to you. “Sure you don’t want me to shoot her?”

“No!” Now you remember why you were initially wary of him—because when you first met, he was holding one of his blades to a lackey’s throat. Danger, danger! You didn’t even need your spidey-sense to tell you that; he wears the warning like a badge of honour. “We just need to subdue her till the cops come. Follow my lead.”

Jake gives you a mock salute. Fortunately, Doc Ock’s lab was deserted—except for her—when you crashed the place. Whatever supersecret bioweapon she’s cooking up will still be waiting for you to destroy it after you capture her.

With just one press of a button, you’re soaring back into action. The arms seem to have coordinated themselves again—having decided to kill you, how lucky—but so have you and Jake. One lunges towards you, and you pull upwards on your web, going feet over head as you as you flip backwards out of the way.

In that split-second moment when you’re fully upside-down, your arm extends downwards and thwip!—your web attaches to the titanium plating. The world realigns itself, and your momentum carries you in an arc below the arm, dragging it behind you as you continue in your original direction.

As soon as you land on the side of the opposing building, you yank hard. Immediately, your other hand comes up to shoot a dozen or so webs to attach the claw onto the wall. It won’t last—the brick is already crumbling under the force—but it gives Jake enough time to shake off Doc Ock’s attention and join you.

Closer than you were before, you can see just how much force it takes for him to drive his blade through the circuitry. Sparks burst like little fireworks around his hand. He makes it look easy, but a shudder crawls down your spine—you just know what he’s capable of.

You both leap out of the way as the arm thrashes erratically; Doc Ock cries out in frustration. That’s two arms down, and two that are busy suspending her in the air. You’ll have to catch her once you take out another one, but that’s no biggie.

“Jake!” You gesture towards the nearest arm, and he nods in understanding. Despite the pain radiating through your limbs, you grin. For all his snark and murderous tendencies (which you hope are just a joke), he’s a half-decent partner.

It’s too bad, then, that Doc Ock doesn’t seem to care about how good of a time you’re having. Her mouth twists into a snarl, and in a blink of an eye, she’s scrambling away. Retreating? Your poor, bruised head is hopeful for the night to end.

In a way, it’s right—she is trying to get away from you. Unfortunately, it also recognizes that she’s retracing your steps, right back to the lab where you first found her.

“Oh, damn it!”

Your injuries and Jake’s limited modes of superhuman transport make it impossible to gain any real ground as you chase after her. Doc Ock climbs through her shattered window half a minute before you do, and even if your conscious mind doesn’t realize it, some part of you does—it’s an ambush.

You dive to the ground just as a mini fridge is thrown in your direction. Pain shoots down your side, your vision blurring with tears. The sheer wave of nausea that washes over you makes your mouth water and fuck, you might actually puke like this.

There’s something else coming but you can’t do anything other than half-heartedly roll behind the nearest object. The workbench shields you from—what, a chair? You aren’t afforded anymore time to think about it because she rips off the counter next, several important-looking valves raining down around you. Through the noise, you just barely manage to pick up a quiet hissing in the air as you try to gather your bearings.

A line of workbenches down the centre of the room, an aisle on either side.

On the right: sinks and fume hoods.

On the left: whiteboards.

Directly in front of you: the absolute bane of—and possible end to—your existence, holding up that chunk of black countertop as if it were a hammer and you are a nail.

You brace yourself for the hit, but it never comes. There’s a surprised yelp from above you, and your peer through your arms at just the right time to see Jake land a brutal kick into Doc Ock’s chest, sending her flying. You don’t see her land, but you do hearit; equipment crashes to the ground, glass shattering on the linoleum.

With a hand from Jake, you’re back on your feet. Doc Ock is reeling at the far end of the room. The walls are littered with long, deep gashes—some from your initial confrontation with her, some likely from her mechanical arms flailing from Jake’s hit. Several of the fume hoods are missing their windows entirely, which definitely bodes ill considering that there are still chemicals in some of them.

Gritting your teeth, you somehow manage to get the words out, “Just stand down, Olivia!”

A hand is clutched at her side, and some petty part of you hopes that her ribs are broken too. “This isn’t over.”

You gesture to her mechanical arms, two of which are still malfunctioning like headless chickens, then to yourselves, who are (mostly) in one piece. “Well, it sure is about to be.”

She raises her eyebrows at Jake. “You raid a Spirit Halloween and suddenly think you can defeat me?”

“Yeah, sure, let me just take fashion advice from someone cosplaying as an octopus.”

Jake leans towards you. “Do you always talk this much?”

At that, Doc Ock’s eyes narrow, filled with determination. She’s not backing down this time, which means neither can you.

You both ready yourselves like you have countless times before, straightening your stance and setting your shoulders back. But Jake doesn’t show the same patience. No—he sees the remaining mechanical arms twitch in preparation, and a blade is already leaving his hand with deadly-precise aim.

Wait, wait, the hissing sound—the gas—

“Get down!” You ram your body into Jake’s, bringing you both to the ground as the blade makes contact with the titanium, sparks flying out and—

BOOM.

It’s like your heart stops.

For several moments, you don’t register anything at all. You aren’t even sure if you’re still breathing.

Slowly, your senses return. The scent of burning plastic invades your nostrils—even the air tastes like it too. Something’s landed on top of you, pinning you down with a surprising amount of strength. Warm and sturdy and pressing into all the wrong places, but you can’t even hear your own whimpering—there’s nothing but ringing in your ears.

Are your eyes closed? You can’t bring yourself to check. All you can do is try to remember how to live, and figure out what the hell is happening.

Your spidey-sense has gone quiet. That’s—that’s good. Hopefully. Or maybe it’s just been knocked out of you by the blast. You let that last thought get washed away into the muddled mess of your head; you could probably use a bit of positive thinking right now.

Everything hurts. That’s been true for the past hour, really, but there’s no gut-wrenchingly painful burn anywhere on your body like what you expected from a lab explosion. The closest thing is just that warmth against your back, in a thick arm across your chest, and encircled around your wrist, where it lingers along your pulse point.

Something brushes up against your cheek, roughly textured but trying to be so, so gentle. Words start to pierce through the hearing damage. “—estás bien, te tengo. No te preocupes, estás bien.”

“Jake?” Your voice comes out small and tinny, unsure of how loud to speak when everything sounds like it’s underwater. You receive an affirmative rumble, and the tension seeps out of your limbs, just a tad.

Tentatively, you open your eyes. And there’s—nothing. Just a white sheet of fabric covering your entire field of view. Jake huffs out a laugh at your confusion before finally standing up, his cape pulling back from where it was draped on top of you.

“Oh.”

It’s like a bomb went off. Nearly every surface has been scorched black, save for the perfectly untouched flooring around you where Jake shielded you both from the blast. Any equipment in the room has been reduced to pieces—if not completely combusted into ash and soot—and fires still linger despite the efforts of what’s left of the sprinkler system.

No sign of Doc Ock anywhere—she must’ve gotten away. Jake lets out a long string of curses under his breath, then finishes it off with an eloquent: “Fuck.”

The fire alarm is incessant, and the sprinklers have all but drenched your suit. If you had half a working brain left, you’d feel the shivers wracking your body and realize that you’re still bleeding out in several different places, but the only thing that crosses your mind is how tired you are.

You throw your mask off with a groan. The sirens in the distance only add to your growing headache. So close, you were so close this time.

“Come on.” Jake’s stands over you, mask retracted, and you can see the grimace on his face from how the mission turned out. Wordlessly, he offers to help you up, and is promptly ignored. He keeps his hand extended towards you, shaking it a little for emphasis, but you refuse to budge.

That is, until your mind so helpfully strays and wonders—how big was the blast?

Your eyes widen, and your body jerks upright as though electrocuted. Oh, God—you didn’t see anyone else in the lab other than Doc Ock when you arrived, but what about the other floors? What about the pedestrians on the sidewalk below, who might’ve had glass and debris rained down upon them when the windows were blown out?

It takes several tries to get to your feet, none of which are entirely successful because Jake has to intervene halfway through to hold you upright. Your second wind catches him off-guard and his brows furrow as you try to leap back into action. “Whoa—talk to me, bug. What’s happening?”

“Need to—” You try to shrug him off. His grip loosens for all of a moment before you’re stumbling again, and then he returns, as firm and steady as ever. “Was anyone hurt?”

“You.”

“Not what I meant,” you scowl. It’s thoroughly ineffective. The only response you get is a subtle tilting of his head, then a loss of his undivided attention as he listens to something—someone—in the room that you aren’t privy to.

His gaze flickers back to you, marginally softer. “No one else was hurt. You need to rest.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. What’s the point of superhealing if you can’t bounce back after a fight? This time when you struggle against him, Jake lets you go, crossing his arms as you limp around the room.

Fortunately, most of the smoke is being pulled out the windows; what’s left is enough to burn and scrape down your larynx, but you push through it. Doc Ock has to have left some kind of trace—if not during her escape, then in the work she left behind. But kicking around in the ashes yields nothing. There’s no conveniently placed folder full of evil plans, or vial labelled SUPER SECRET BIOWEAPON (ONLY COPY - NO NEED TO SEARCH ANY FURTHER).

Jake sighs. “What are you looking for?”

What are you looking for? The building is still on fire, for Christ’s sake—you should have been gone ten minutes ago. Still, your stubbornness is steadfast. “There has to be—something.”

He sweeps out an arm, gesturing to the resounding nothing around you. With wet curls stuck to his forehead, his tone veers on sardonic. “Oh? Your little spider-sense tell you that?”

“Spidey, and—and it’s not a radar, I can’t just turn it on,” you bristle. His ensuing snicker lands all wrong, and your mouth twists into a scowl. “Funny, is it? Blowing up a building?”

“Hey.” The lightness disappears from his expression. “How was I supposed to know about the gas leak?”

It’s a valid question. Still, the anger in you can’t help but flare up anyways, running on his words as if they were diesel. You bite back a retort at the last second, which isn’t enough because the resulting silence is accusatory in and of itself.

He takes a step towards you, chin raised as water continues to rain down on you both. Solid, sturdy—unyielding. The sight twists your stomach into knots, but you stand your ground, placing your hands on your hips even though it pulls painfully at a handful of your muscles. ���Shit happens, bug. It’s no one’s fault—well, maybe a bit my fault, but—”

“I had her.” It’s a blatant lie, but full of conviction as it leaves your lips.

He’s nothing short of incredulous. “Did you?”

“Yes—”

Faster than your hazy mind can register it, his hand shoves at your shoulder. Not hard, but it didn’t need to be—you practically crumple, hands scrambling to find something to hold on to before you land flat on your ass, but Jake wraps an arm around your waist, steadying you.

You swat at his chest. You hate that his warmth is familiar. “Let me go.”

He counters: “What’s wrong?”

“You, asshole.”

“’m the bad guy now? You want a fight that bad?” His eyebrows cock upwards, regarding you like some unruly child.

He’s being inflammatory on purpose and it’s working. You’re an elastic band in his fingers, one that he keeps stretching and stretching and stretching until you snap. “I don’t want a fight, I want a—”

Win, you almost admit. You wanted a win, after all this time you’ve spent chasing after Doc Ock. Countless sleepless nights and lackeys thrown behind bars, only to fail in the final moments when it really mattered. The realization is debilitating, even in the confines of your own head, and so you lash out again, distracting yourself from the bitterness on your tongue by spewing it out instead.

“We’re not all out for blood, you know.” Then, because you can’t help yourself— “I’m not you, Jake.”

“Is that what this is about?” His hand tenses almost imperceptibly against your back, but you manage to catch it. Of course you do, with every sense on high alert, blood rushing in your ears. “You mad ‘cause I’m a killer?”

Something dangerous underlines his tone when he says the word and you flinch, trying to create some distance between the two of you on instinct. Jake doesn’t grant you that—his other arm comes to hold you as well, pulling you in even though you think you might suffocate in his presence.

“You knew this from the start. Don’t tell me you’re going to try to turn me in now.”

“Maybe I should,” you say in a rush, gaze steely as it meets his. For all your superhuman powers, none give you the ability to read what’s going on behind the storm in his eyes. You’re so close, you can almost feel the heat radiating off his skin, hear the words in his mouth before he even says them.

“You’re the one with the spidey-sense.” His voice is low. Somewhere in the back of your mind, through the shame and anger and desperation—you note that he’s called it by the right name this time. “You tell me. Am I a threat?”

Your heart is beating a mile a minute and your stomach is all fluttery and weird but—no. There’s no tingling at the back of your neck, no hair-raising along your arms. Petulance makes you want to lie and say yes anyways, but you can’t bring yourself to form the words. It just… isn’t true. And for some reason, you have feeling that this would be going too far, even as a rash potshot.

When you don’t respond, Jake’s expression softens, the lines of his face giving way to an understanding look that makes you feel smaller than his antagonism ever could. The fires have mostly died down now, but warm reds and oranges still flicker along the side of his jaw, in corners of his irises. His arms feel less like a cage and more like a lifeline, keeping you from drifting out to sea.

“Just—thought I finally caught her,” you mumble, and he pulls you the last few inches into a proper hug. Exhausted, you let yourself melt into his arms, the adrenaline beginning to seep away despite the cacophony of sirens in the background. “It’s been so long, Jake.”

“I know.” He doesn’t, not really—you haven’t divulged just how far this rivalry goes, but you don’t have to think very hard to realize that he’s speaking from experiences long before he ever met you. “We’ll get her next time.”

You snort softly into his suit. “What, you staying?”

It’s silly, the tinge of hopefulness that laces your voice just minutes after you’ve essentially accosted him. But Jake’s grinning when you pull back to look at him, all boyish confidence, and you nearly forget to breathe. “I could be convinced.”

Wait—what? He’s thrown you off-kilter. You—you didn’t think he’d actually— “Well—!”

At your stammering, he lets out a laugh, throwing back his head. It’s a wonderful sound, and when you flick his arm in response, there’s no real force to it.

“Well, you know what they say,” you sniff, trying to maintain your composure. “Friends close, enemies closer, and all that.”

“Right, right,” he nods gravely. The effect is severely diminished by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Keeping one arm around you, he starts to lead you towards an exit. “Don’t know how you’ll handle it—your spidey-sense going off all the time with me around.”

On the way out, he picks up your mask from where you discarded it, slapping it a few times against his leg to brush off the soot and ash. His own mask and hood come up to envelope his face as he hands it to you. Distantly, you wonder how his glowing white eyes would look in the dark. Probably a bit stupid, is your conclusion.

“I’m sure I can manage,” you sigh, and once you slip on your mask, he gives you a little pat on the head before you can bat him away. Jake leans away enough to avoid your attempts to tug at his hood, but at the next opportunity, he reaches over again, the little shit, hand drawing in close, and your spidey-sense, superhuman and extraordinary, it’s—

It’s never been quieter.

[gogtopia]

hi Jules I just finished reading ur dnf baseball fic and it was really really epic and fun and emotional I enjoyed it a lot I’ve grown up surrounded by baseball and going to mlb games but have never been interested at all either watching or playing like it just wasn’t smth I could get into but ur fic fr just helped a lot w understanding the fundamentals and potential passion and stuff that goes into the sport which I think is really cool I’ve reads lots of sports aus in diff fandoms but this was the first baseball au and I liked it a lot also I lovedddd gnfs characterization ough I need to hug him ok sorry for the random paragraph I loved ur fic a lot ok that’s all love u goodnight :3

ACE THANK YOU SO MUCH <3<3<3 it's a fic that really meant a lot to me to write so i'm glad it could be somewhat meaningful to you too. and the gnf comment specifically means a lot to me bc i loveee how i wrote him in this au specifically

i had a few other plans for that universe that have kinda been derailed by cc drama or whatever including a sapnap centric fic that i started writing already LOL idk if i'll resurrect this project in some capacity and change things around but here's the first scene of that fic since i like it a lot and george is fun in it

Sapnap is quite literally living the dream. If the 11-year-old version of himself could see him now, just ten years later, his jaw would drop to the floor in amazement. Who would’ve thought that the short nerdy kid who they shoved behind the plate because nobody else wanted to don all the equipment every inning would be here now— the starting catcher for a Major League Baseball team?

He hopes all the kids that used to shit on him when he was younger are eating their words every time they turn on ESPN. Realistically, they’re probably just using the fact that they went to school together as a fun fact during company icebreakers, having forgotten about their years in school together entirely.

It’s been three years since he was crowned Rookie of the Year in a hectic season that changed his fucking life but most of the time, he still feels like he’s on top of the world. Last season was probably his best so far and he feels pretty good about this season, even if it’s nearly June and his batting average is barely breaking .260. He can do better and he’s going to. If he really applies himself, he can still break .300.

And, as much as Dream claims he has the yips, he doesn’t. There’s no reason for him to be having any sort of performance anxiety, not when everything has been going so well. He gets to play with his best friends in the fucking world, including George who is like his baseball soulmate and there are little kids in the audience wearing jerseys with his name on the back that genuinely look up to him as an openly bisexual athlete in the MLB.

He plays for them, really. As much as Sapnap loves the game, he also likes that it gives him a chance to be a role model for kids that might feel alone as he did, especially for the queer kids that need to know they have as much of a place in professional sports as everyone else.

In the years since Sapnap and his friends have been out, plenty of other players across the league as well as in other sports have followed in their footsteps. They’ve made a difference, solely by being themselves. It’s kinda epic, as George might say.

Except, of course, when it isn’t.

They’re playing the Yankees because of course it’s the fucking Yankees, which means that the ballpark is fucking packed. They always pull a bigger crowd when they play New York. Something about big cities being connected or something like that.

Even though the Yankees are damn good this year, they’re up 3-0. It’s not a surprise really. Not when George is on the mound, their top starter by far now that he’s really hit his stride in the league. Even if he’s already pitched four innings, he doesn’t seem all that tired and he’s still throwing strikes, so it seems like he’ll have a few more with him.

It’s one of the Yankees outfielders that says it, some tall guy that hits good enough to validate his fucking ego, and he whispers it under his breath, just loud enough for Sapnap to hear.

“Surprised his hand hasn’t given out yet,” he mutters. “Gotta be tired from stroking Dream’s tiny dick all night.”

For a moment, Sapnap glances back to the umpire, who had surely heard what he said since it’s pretty packed around the plate. The ump looks at him with a frown, as if he’s disrespecting his time with the mere act of glancing back over such fucking brazen unsportsmanlike conduct.

Fuck that. Sapnap motions for a time-out and steps back from behind the plate, running toward the mound.

Dream shoots him a questioning look from third base and he waves him off. He can feel his coach glaring at his back, probably confused as to why he’s calling a time-out while George is still on top of his game.

George furrows his eyebrows when he got there, shoving the ball into his glove. “What’s the issue? I thought I was pitching well. One single this inning isn’t enough to take me off the mound.”

“It’s not that,” he tells him, glancing back at the batter for a moment. The asshole is fucking smirking from his place on the plate. “Fuckface over there said something douchey.”

He snorts and lifts his cap for a moment, running his hand through his short hair, which has gone a little curly with sweat. “You don’t need to tattle on annoying batters to me, Sapnap. What am I meant to do about it? I’ll try my best to strike him out, just as I always do.”

“He said your hand must be tired from stroking Dream’s dick all night.”

George’s jaw tenses and his free hand balls up into a fist. It’s definitely not the first time that he’s heard this sort of thing— not even the first time that it’s happened in a game— but usually, it comes from leering fans rather than players who have reputations at stake. “He said that?”

Sapnap nods. “Yeah. And I believe he called it tiny.”

“Well, he’s simply incorrect about that part. I’d bet $100 that Dream is more gifted than him down there, so to speak,” George says with a cursory glance at the guy, making Sapnap wrinkle his nose. He wants to get George pissed off so he’s more motivated to strike this asshole out, not hear about his other best friend’s dick size.

“Just strike him out for me,” Sapnap says, patting him on the back. “And for Dream.”

“Sure.”

George purses his lips and something unreadable crosses his eyes. Sapnap hopes that he didn’t accidentally make him nervous rather than motivated. Confidence is an essential part of George’s success as a pitcher. He doesn’t choke very often but it’s almost always because he gets stuck in his own head.

Sapnap runs back behind the plate and crouches down into that familiar stance, signaling the next pitch to George. A curveball.

Except, George doesn’t pitch a curveball. With fire in his eyes, he sends the ball hurtling directly toward the batter and, when he tries to jump out of the way and dodge it, it slams straight into his back, making him scream out in pain.

“Oops!” George calls out, loud enough for anyone in the infield to hear. “I suppose my hand just got tired or something.”

A medic and the Yankees coach start running onto the field to check on the batter, but he ignores them, stalking toward the mound instead and drawing his hand back. The batter, in his full muscular 6’2” glory, punches George squarely in the face before he has a chance to duck out of the way. George stumbles back and nearly falls to the ground, barely sticking out a hand to catch himself in time as blood drips from his nose, small droplets of crimson littering the dirt on the mound.

“George!” Dream shouts, running toward him from third base. George jumps back up and punches the other player in the jaw before he can reach him. George is generally a pacifist, despite being a shit-stirrer with his friends,  and it takes a lot to piss him off. The fact he threw that pitch in the first place is shocking. But physically fighting somebody? Sapnap has never seen him like this in their three years of friendship.

The runner on first starts to get into a screaming match with Punz and suddenly, Yankees come piling off the bench with gritted teeth and wild eyes, rearing for a fight.

The guy on deck comes for Sapnap and, even though he has a few inches on him in terms of height, Sapnap is the stockier guy. He throws his helmet on the ground so he can see better and tackles the guy to the ground, throwing a punch at him that barely hits the dirt instead of his face.

The Yankees player uses the momentum from the punch to flip them around so he’s on top of him, straddling his waist in a way he might find erotic if it wasn’t some ugly second baseman that sprays a little spit out of his mouth every time he yells, and he throws a punch of his own, which Sapnap is barely able to block with his arm before thrusting his knee up into his gut. He hopes the plastic from his leg guards make it hurt just a little bit more. Now that he’s been roped into an actual fight, his catcher’s gear feels a little bit like armor.

The player winces and falls backward, allowing Sapnap to stagger to his feet. He looks out to the field for a moment to see if they’re winning this brawl.

It’s a fucking frenzy. Half of the players on both teams are throwing punches at somebody and pretty much everyone else is screaming and swearing. Dream is desperately trying to pull George away from his particularly nasty rumble while another Yankees player tries to pick a fight with him at the same time, only to be absently swatted away. There are definitely no winners here right now: just blood and obscenities being hurled all over the place.

Sapnap turns back toward the guy he was fighting just quick enough to see the first hurtling toward his face. He isn’t able to stop it this time and the hit sends a burst of pain flashing through his face as he falls back onto the ground with a puff of dirt rising up around him.

A sickening smile spread’s across the guy’s face and he’s about to reach down to hit him again when the umpire started wildly blowing his whistle and pulls the guy off by the back of his shirt.

Once the rumble simmers down to a mixture of shame and dirty looks, the umpire points toward George and motions for him to get off of the field even though the batter was the one to throw the first punch. The stadium boos him loudly. It isn’t fair that George is getting booted from the game but the guy who threw the first punch still gets to jog over to first.

George is covered in dirt from head to toe as blood drips from his nose and seeps into his black jersey, invisible save for the few droplets that hit the 17 stitched onto his chest. Even though he should be pissed off, he snatches his hat off the ground with a wild grin. George turns toward where he knows a camera is fixed on him and winks, blowing it a kiss as he struts confidently off the field.

What the fuck? Dream mouths to Sapnap as he marches back to third base.

Sapnap waves him off. George’ll explain it to him as soon as he gets back to the dugout anyway, even if that might be a while, judging by the mediocre pitcher that’s being tasked with relieving him.