#and gotta figure out a way to patch the shoes

[rafeandonlyrafe]

ponytail

words: 1k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, blowjob, face fucking a bit, hair play?, mentions of thigh riding, public sex

“can i join you today rafey?” you ask, plopping down on his lap. 

“join me for what?” he questions, dropping his phone onto the couch, the weather app still opened up, checking the radar and wind direction.

“golf, duh.” you say like it's obvious. he does usually go on fridays, so it's no surprise that he would be going today, especially since it was pretty sunny out

“oh.” rafe says, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “you really want to go with me?”

“mhm.” you nod. “i bought a new golf skirt.” 

“ah, now it makes sense.” rafe laughs, pulling you into his chest when you pout. “of course you can come baby.”

“yay!” you press a kiss to his lips, your hands coming to rest on his strong jaw. “im gonna go get ready.”

you hop up off of rafes lap, but not before giving him another kiss. you head upstairs, excited to get dressed in your new golfing outfit. you apply makeup, figuring you'd get rafe to take some cute pictures of you for instagram.

you tie your hair up in a ponytail before adjusting your skirt and putting on your golf shoes.

“all ready, rafey.” you bound back down the stairs. rafe perks up instantly when he sees you in your tiny skirt.

“you look hot.” rafe says as he stands, coming over to deliver a kiss.

“thanks baby.” you smile, rafe still managing to make you blush even after you've been together for over a year.

“come on, let's go before it gets too busy.” rafe says, taking your hand in his as he leads you out the door.

--

“rafe, cut it out.” you say with a laugh as his hands find a way to your waist again.

“i can't help it baby, you look so good.” he groans, pulling your body against his, not letting you swing your club and hit the golf ball.

“i know, but i gotta hit this! don't you wanna move on to the next hole?” you question. it's an easy putt, which is all you really like to do. you always start your turn from where rafes first hit lands, it makes golf easier and more enjoyable for you. rafe even lets you drive the cart from time to time. 

“wanna move on to your next hole.” rafe says, making you lean against him as you howl with laughter.

“that was so stupid!”

“shut up.” rafe groans, burying his head in your shoulder, glad that you wore a tank top today that didn't cover too much of your skin as he kisses where your neck meets your shoulder.

“you are corny, rafe cameron.” you say with a roll of your eyes, pulling away from his grabby hands so you can finally make your putt.

you line up your shoot before tapping the ball into the hole, letting out a whoop in happiness at getting it in.

“good job.” rafe says, giving you a high five.

you retrieve your ball before heading to the next hole, frowning when rafe turns the golf cart the wrong direction.

“uh… rafe?” you question as he pulls behind a patch of woods.

“wanna suck me off baby?” he questions as he puts the cart into park, looking over at where you are perched on the golf cart next to him.

“oh!” you squeal, now understanding why he took you to the one secluded part of the course. “yes!”

rafe laughs, stepping out of the cart and moving to the other side. you get on your knees in the cart, not wanting to dirty them in the grass.

rafe tugs his zipper down as you work the button open, mouth already salivating.

you pull his pants down to his thighs, his underwear coming with it as his cock perks up, already hardening. rafe glances around, double checking that no one is around as you grasp his cock. 

you open your mouth, stroking over his cock as you rub the head against your tongue. rafe lets out a quiet moan, his hand moving to grip your ponytail.

“gonna fuck your mouth, yeah?” rafe questions. he wants to let you take your time, but he also doesn’t want to get in trouble with the country club if he gets caught. 

you nod, opening your mouth as rafe pushes your head down on his cock, his hips pushing forward at the same time. you place your hands on his thighs to keep yourself steady as he uses your ponytail to guide you up and down.

rafe only takes it slow for a minute before he begins to snap his hips forward, his cock growing inside your mouth.

he wraps your ponytail around his head for a better grip. you squeeze your eyes closed at the pain of your hair being pulled, you panties flooding with wetness.

“good girl.” rafe praises you, pumping faster. you moan around his length, glad that you have enough practice on his cock to accommodate him easily, remembering when you first blew him and was unable to take him all the way into your mouth.

you whine as rafe yanks on your hair, using your mouth to get himself off. your throat constricts around him as you resist the urge to cough, managing to squeeze your fists tightly and avoid gagging.

rafe picks his head up from looking at you to glance around again, but he sees no carts or players nearby. 

“gonna cum in your mouth baby.” rafe warns, imagining if you did get caught, if someone saw you being such a good slut for him, your jaw slack as his cock pulses in your mouth.

rafe releases quickly after his warning, cum spurting into your mouth. you moan around his length, sucking gently as you help him ride out his high.

rafe pulls you off by your ponytail, tucking his cock back into his pants and redoing them.

“you messed up my hair.” you pout, trying to smooth out your ponytail.

“sorry, baby.” rafe says, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. you wipe your mouth and move to sit back on the seat of the cart, stretching your legs out.

“wanna ride my thigh to make up for it?” rafe asks, sticking his leg out.

“oh, yes!” you squeal, sliding over to push your crotch into his thigh, straddling him.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre

[thoughtssvt]

shaky defenses

the small spaces between infinity pt. 2

teen dad gojo finds kid megumi sweating buckets and groaning in pain. he thinks he's dying (he's not, gojo's just too strong for his own good) warning just for misunderstandings, it's comically intense

“Megumi-chan, I know training is hard, but if you wanna skip you should at least tell me,” Satoru said with a grunt as he intruded the Fushiguro apartment. He set one foot outside the genkan before groaning, taking a step back to toe his shoes off, something Tsumiki had scolded him for in the past.

He took a peek into the living room, the air stale like no one had been in it all day. Heaving a heavy sigh he made his way to Megumi’s room.

“Megumi, you know I got you a phone for a reason, right? I promise I won’t get mad if you at least call me to tell me you don’t want to train,” he tilted his head side to side in search of empathetic words. How do you speak to a kid anyway? “Maybe you do deserve a break, you’ve been working hard–” his voice clung to the back of his throat as he swung Megumi’s bedroom door open to see him writhing on the floor, just a few feet away from his bed. His eyes were screwed shut, sweat beading down his face, groans of pain droning from his chest.

“Go…jo… hurts…”

Satoru felt his muscles tense as his pupils shook, glowing with a piercing blue as he put up infinity. There’s no way he could’ve missed any sign of danger. An intruder? A curse, a curse user? Had they left already? Was Megumi dying?

He scooped the boy into his arms, wincing at the boiling heat of his skin. At that moment he cursed himself for not figuring out teleportation sooner, debating whether it would be faster to take a cab or assume a full sprint all the way back to campus.

“You’ll…” He swallowed thickly. He’d never felt this way before. Even on the brink of death he had control of his mind, but now? He couldn’t stop his mind from telling him the worst or the way his bones rattled against his muscles. “You’ll be okay.” He whispered. “Shoko will make it go away.” That’s right. He bet his life on Shoko for years. He just had to calm down. Megumi would be okay.

He kicked down the door of Shoko’s lab covered in sweat and panting just as heavily as Megumi. “Shoko!” He stuttered, spilling the boy onto the examination table before Shoko waved him off. She needed to work and she couldn’t do that with him hovering like a mother hen.

He could’ve sworn this was all the doing of a curse with the way that time seemed irrelevant. He didn’t know how many minutes passed, but at one point he had to tell himself to stop pacing. God, what was happening to him? He hadn’t felt something this negative since–

Shoko stepped out of the room, softly shutting the door behind her. The soft taps of a cigarette box rhythmically pounding against her palm echoed down the hallway.

“So? What… what’s… will he live?”

She quirked her brow at him, pinching a fresh cigarette between her lips. She stood there looking at him like he’d grown two heads before she snickered softly. “He has a cold and a very high fever. I can’t use the reverse curse technique on this, he’s gotta let it pass on its own. I’ve got him hooked to some fluids.” She shook her head fondly, “He will live, fortunately.”

Satoru stepped into the room, his lungs burning as he held his breath. Taking a seat next to where Megumi laid he slowly let it out, examining him closely, feeling much better seeing his improved state. Megumi’s face was now relaxed, a cold patch across his forehead, skin void of any precipitation. He was just sick? Is this what sickness did to you?

He slumped in his seat, his fingers tapping just next to Megumi’s hand as he watched the saline drip slowly. He would’ve fallen asleep if the boy hadn’t bolted upright, frantically looking around to digest his surroundings.

“Gojo-san,” He rasped, voice thick with sickness, “I… training… What time is it?” It was obvious his mind was on everything besides his health.

Satoru sat up, reaching out to ruffle Megumi’s dark hair. “You’re off the hook for the rest of the week. You’ve earned it. Just focus on getting better, okay? Rest is a big part of training, too.”

That night Satoru bugged Shoko to tell him how to avoid sickness, his tongue clicking in distaste as she told him that it’s unfortunately hard for sickness to bypass children with the way they’re walking hotspots. To add to the misfortune, Gojo turned to the internet. Effectively causing him to buy a new set of winter clothes for the siblings– despite the fact that it was almost summer– and a pile of antibacterial soaps and sanitizers for them to keep in every corner of the house. He doesn’t know much outside the scope of strength, but what he does know is that he never wants to see Megumi in that state again.

A/N : ooc? Yeah sure, but i hc that Satoru has never ever been sick in his life, so he absolutely freaked out the first time he saw Megumi sick.

The Small Spaces Between Infinity masterlist

Innocence Protection Program masterlist

a papamin and kid yuuji series

Jujutsu Daycare masterlist

a series au of the jujutsu high students as daycare kids

[coffeexafterxmidnight]

welcome home - what went bump in the night

cw: puppet gore, whump, hurt/comfort, ask to tag

You sat, drifting off at your kitchen table, when something banged on your door. 

It'd been an awfully quiet morning in Home. You'd opened the windows, letting in a cool breeze scented with flowers trace over your cheeks. You sat with your hands around your mug of something nice and hot, your eyes falling closed…

Bang, bang, bang.

You almost fell out of your chair. Your gaze jerked in the direction of your front door. 

Bang, bang, bang.

Eddie called your name from outside. Sally did, too.

Something about their tones chilled your blood.

When you threw open the door, you found, as you'd heard, Eddie and Sally. Eddie gripped his hat in both hands, eyes wider than you'd ever seen. Sally shook from head to toe, her fists clenched and held close to her chest.

"What happened?" You asked.

They spoke at the same time, out of sync.

"It's Wally!"

Your stomach dropped. You grabbed your shoes.

"Take me to him!"

They raced ahead of you, faster than you'd ever seen them run. You almost tripped over your own feet trying to keep up. You were the only human in Home, and definitely not anything like an authority figure in your eyes. But the residents came to you when they needed help.

Wally must need help.

At the edge of the woods all the residents gathered. Sally and Barnaby sat on the ground. Frank stood, one arm wrapped around himself, the other mimicking the motion of biting his nails. Howdy cried into his hands.

They all looked at you as you stopped, and you looked back. You looked between them, confusion pushed back in your panic.

It wasn't until you saw the white fluffy stuffing on the ground you understood.

He's dead, you thought, irrationally. He's dead and there's nothing I can do to save him. We're going to have to bury him outside his Home… have a little funeral… I'll have to be the reverend…

You took a breath. Snap out of it, you told yourself. They all need you. Wally needs you.

You forced yourself to walk forward to look at your little friend.

It was worse than you could've thought.

He was still alive, the trembling gave that away. Curled up as best he could into a ball, it was hard to tell what injuries he had. But the cuts - lacerations - went deep, deep into his body. On his face in particular, you could see the edge of what could've been wood inside him. His ear stayed on thanks to three little strings. Blue hair tumbled down over his shoulders, fallen from his fancy hairstyle in a way you'd never seen before.

You called his name. His eyes opened. Without moving an inch, he looked at you through his hair. He didn’t stop trembling. You reached down, brushed the hair from his face. Wally closed his eyes as your fingers skimmed over his fuzzy skin. The trembling eased.

Julie called your name. You looked up at your friends, all collected together, all pressed tight together.

“What do we do?” Frank cried.

You looked back down at Wally, your dear, dear friend Wally. He looked so small like this, so fragile. Your friends weren’t children, not really, but they weren’t teenagers and they weren’t really adults either. They were their own things. And that meant they could be hurt in their own special ways.

“All of you go to the post office,” you said. “I’m gonna take Wally back to my house and fix him up, best I can. And then.” You surprised yourself with what came out of your mouth. “I’m gonna find what hurt him, and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Your friends gaped. Wally squirmed, mumbling something you couldn’t understand.

“What if it hurts you too?!” Howdy said.

Your gaze went down to Wally again, into his open, frightened eyes. He shook his head. You set your jaw.

“I’m more afraid of my friends being hurt,” you said, “Than I am of that.”

Ignoring the way the others stared at you, you spoke directly to Wally.

“I gotta pick you up,” you whispered. “I’m gonna take you to my home, and I’ll patch you up there.”

Wally whimpered. He nodded his head. Something inside you broke, and your hands began to shake. 

If there was one thing you remembered after everything finished, it was how brave he was. Shaking in your arms, his fingers clutching your shirt, face hidden in your neck. He felt so much smaller than he acted, so much smaller than his proud statement of being twelve apples tall. You led the group back into town, one hand supporting your friend, the other holding a tree branch you’d found on the ground. No one said anything. Especially not Wally.

And every step of the way, you watched Wally’s Home. The windows were closed and drawn. The whole place seemed asleep. You would’ve thought… if anyone would’ve been worried about Wally, if anyone knew something was wrong, his Home would’ve been the first one.

You weren’t sure you were ready to think of the implications of that.

Once everyone was safe inside the post office, you turned towards your house.

“Wally,” you mumbled. “I know you probably wanna go Home, but I got a sewing kit at my place and I can fix you up. I have five fingers, remember? I’m good at that stuff.”

Normally that would get a laugh out of Wally. This time, he just rubbed his face in your neck and shivered.

You looked at the house in the center of town again, and frowned.

In your house, you laid Wally down on the kitchen table. Now you could see it better, how his face stretched with pain. Now you could see it better, all the awful, awful places he’d been hurt. It wasn’t just his ear that was hanging on by a few threads. His right arm, too. You swallowed hard. Much as you wanted to cry, you wouldn’t. Not yet. Wally needed you.

Your sewing kit was on the shelf where you left it. You’d learned a lot about sewing after coming here. No big stores to buy new clothes, so you patched up what you had, and made your own, until you were as colorful as everyone else.

You hoped it’d be enough.

As you set things up, you talked to Wally, explaining what you were doing, and why. You would have wanted to know, too, if you’d been so hurt. (If you’d been so hurt, your brain whispered, you’d be dead right now.) You threaded the needle in his favorite color, promising that no one will see the stitching when you’re done. You pulled away the damaged fabric of his jacket, pushed aside the strings of his hair. He didn’t speak, didn’t say a word, just watched.

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to feel this,” you said, forcing your hands not to tremble as you hovered over his arm. “I hope it doesn’t hurt.”

Wally said nothing. You took a breath, did the first stitch. 

Five stitches in, he said your name. You looked up at his face. He looked back at you, into your eyes.

He said your name again, and asked, “What’s ‘hurt’?”

Your throat tightened up. You took a shaking breath, wiped the wet in your eyes off on your sleeve. Opening your mouth to answer him, you found the words weren’t coming. And in the way he closed his eyes and laid his head to the side, you knew he understood why.

Stitch, stitch, stitch. You reattached his arm. Stitch, stitch, stitch. You reattached his ear. Stitch, stitch, stitch, you sewed up his face. Stitch and stitch and stitch again, you found the cuts and fixed them up, best you could, best you knew. Even his little fingers had been shredded, the tips of them, the knuckles, as if he’d fought back against whatever had attacked him. The thought of that filled you with pained pride. 

Oh Wally, whatever happened to you?

With a final snip of your scissors and a teeny knot, you finished up your sewing. Good as new? No. No one would ever be ‘good as new’ after whatever happened to him. But at least, you hoped the pain was gone.

“Can you move?” You asked.

Wally blinked. A second later, he pushed himself up off the table. He moved his arm, touched his ear, swung his legs, and stretched out his hands. He closed his eyes again.

Before he could speak, you said, “Here, I’ll fix your jacket. Seems like it shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll have you back with everyone when you’re ready to see them. I know they’d all like to see you’re okay.”

He opened his eyes. Swung his legs. Shrugged his shoulders and pulled off his jacket, handing it over to you. You took it, examined it closely. Yes, that wouldn’t take long at all. 

But it’d be just long enough.

As you sewed, you thought your words over carefully.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Wally stopped moving.

You didn’t look up from your task. 

“I’m not going to make you,” you said. “I just want you to know that I’m somewhere safe to go to, if you ever need help.” Wally didn’t answer.

“I’m not gonna judge you for whatever happened,” you said. “I know it wasn’t your fault.” Wally said nothing.

“Nothing like that could’ve been your fault.”

Wally said nothing.

“But I meant it when I said that I’m more scared of you guys getting hurt than anything that could happen to me.”

Wally sobbed.

You looked up from his jacket. Wally’s hands covered his face, he rocked back and forth. Between his fingers, he looked at you. Little drops of liquid dripped between his fuzzy fingers. Your stomach dropped.

You didn’t know Wally could cry.

“I’m sorry-” Wally said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare all of you. I was trying to protect - protect you-”

“Wally-” you started.

He reached for you, and you reached back. You wrapped your arms around your friend and held him close, held him tight, held him safe as he cried. And you cried too, quietly, into his long blue hair.

You didn’t push him for any more answers. You would let him cry until he didn’t need to anymore. Wasn’t a big surprise to you, when he fell asleep, his arms locked around your neck. You held him close and wiped your eyes. 

Alright, you told yourself. Sleepover time. The whole neighborhood would be invited. Everyone would get to hang out with Wally. You’d make pizza together and drink soda and play games and everything would be okay.

And you. You were going to get to the bottom of this. Even if it killed you.

[knullanon]

please please please please! write a continuation of the symbiotes fic where reader gets token way from knull and into the hands of anti-venom. i beg of you. 😥

a/n: anti venom will appear next chapter I promise but for now you just get the glimpse of what he's got. also sorry to that one swedish anon bc Knull is mentioned many times here. and yes it's a venom gif because theres no knull gifs so yeah 😭😭 also, please mind the tags.

REDO: Symbiotes Being Assholes Part 3

words: 2787

warnings: kidnapping, physical abuse, talk of dismemberment, arguments, probably incorrect medical treatment for the broken nose, lmk if I missed any!

~~~

"WAKE UP!"

Cletus jumped up, immediately regretting it as he felt his headache arise. He leaned back, his head swirling with pain.

"What the hell...?"

Get up, Cletus! We must go, we have to move!

Ignoring the pain, Cletus got himself up and looked around. He remembered the night before- leaving the apartment, driving for a few hours...

He sobered up once he realized what had happened. He looked around, seeing if he could see you, but you were nowhere to be found. Neither was Knull.

He got up, glass crunching under his feet as he jumped over fallen shelves. He rushed outside, seeing that it was empty. Just the truck, glass, and the gas pumps.

"Fuck," he breathed out, and moved towards the truck. Carnage was yelling about every idea and curse they had, and it was becoming more of a nuisance than any help. He opened the door, seeing that nothing was taken or broken, including the keys.

He took them! We have to get them back! What are we waiting for?! Let's go!

"I know that." He grabbed the keys and got into the driver's seat. "We gotta lay low for a minute, though."

He started the truck, and started to back out into the freeway. "We can't let Knull know we might be alive, because if he figures it out, we're probably never gonna live another day."

The truck rolled forward, and Cletus hit the gas. "We need a plan, and sooner than later."

---

The first thing you had noticed when you woke up was how comfortable you were.

The bed you were given was the best you've ever had, even if you didn't want to admit it. There were layers of blankets and pillows stacked up on each other, and the mattress was so soft. It was like you were melting into it when you laid down.

The next thing you noticed was that your broken nose was patched up. It had bandages around it, along with some gauze. Fortunately for you, it didn't hurt that much. They must've given you something to combat it.

The room you were in was extremely spacious, and even though the bed was huge, it wasn't even taking up a third of the space. There was a vanity mirror on your left, a dresser and a door to your right, and in front of the bed was a window that stretched across the wall, with pink curtains that were pulled back. It showed a beautiful landscape of a wide farmland, with a forest to the sides and a beautiful sunrise.

You ignored all of that, though, and instead pulled the covers off of you. You got up and walked to the window. It seemed thick, not thick enough that you couldn't break it, but enough that it would have to get something big to break it. There wasn't anyone outside, either, so they would have either been in the house or somewhere else.

There wasn't anything else in the room that could help you. You found a pair of shoes and socks, but other than that, you were wearing what you were from the night beforehand. Was it the night before? You couldn't tell.

You went to open the door, finding that it was open. When you tried to open it, it made a loud creaking noise. You stopped, hearing and listening for anyone that would come by.

But nobody came.

You peaked your eyes out, seeing that there was no one there. When you opened it more, and looked the other way, no one was there. At first, you didn't want to move, in case it was some delayed reaction, and they were just behind the wall. But eventually, after a few more seconds of silence, your curiosity couldn't take it.

Making sure that you weren't making more noise, you slowly stepped out of the room before shutting the door. The hallway looked similar to the room, run down but still... homey.

Turning to the right, you decided to find the staircase since you were definitely on the second floor of the house. The hallway itself was more decorated than you originally had thought, as well. There were pictures, family photos, of an older man, probably in his late 50s, along with his wife. They both seemed very happy in the photo.

There were more photos of them, along with different awards and degrees, showing the accomplishments of the couple. You didn't give much focus to them, however, because you were already going down the stairs by the time you found the end of the hallway.

The stairs, while old, didn't make any noise when you went down them, which you were extremely thankful for. Once all the way down, you turned the corner, standing on the last step. The stairs went into a kitchen, which then led into a living room. You walked into the kitchen, looking around.

The first thing you looked for was a knife block, but either they didn't have one or they had been taken away. So, you continued opening the drawers, trying to find something to help you. Most of them were just utensils and tools, but eventually, you found the silverware drawer.

There were a few butter knives, but to the side, there were a few steak knives. You picked one up before you closed the drawer. You slid the knife into your pocket, being careful to make sure you wouldn't stab yourself by accident. When you were sure that it was secure, you moved into the next room.

The living room wasn't anything special. Two armrest chairs, a TV, and a coffee table. But there was a door on the other side.

You walked to it and turned the knob. It was unlocked, and while you wanted to run away, you again checked and made sure that there wasn't anyone outside waiting for you.

When the coast was clear, you swung the door open, and you shut it behind you. There was a little porch, and again, two chairs. Looking around, it seemed like there wasn't anything around you. No car, no buildings, just the house and the land in front of it. It must've been somewhere really remote.

Just when you were about to go back inside to see if there was anything else you could take, you smelled something. It was rotten, terrible, and even though your smell wasn't as prominent, you could tell it was from the side of the house.

Covering your nose, you walked over to the left side of the house, trying to see if the smell was from there, but there was only a few tools and some buckets

You turned towards the edge of the grass, where it was cut just enough to walk through, and the smell became more prominent. You tried to peak over the grass to see if something was there, but you couldn't see anything from where you were.

Before you could even walk to see if there was anything, you were picked up by the back of your neck and pulled off the ground. Your feet dangled while you grabbed the hand that held you, trying to pry it off.

"What are you doing?" You looked to your right to see that same symbiote from last night, Rumble? The orange streaks seemed more prominent than the previous night, probably due to the better lighting.

You continued to grab at their hand, trying to pull it off, but to no avail. Suddenly, you remembered the knife you had taken from the kitchen. You reached for your waist, only being able to pull out the knife, trying to stab the symbiote before it was grabbed and yanked away from you.

For a few seconds, you tried to pull the knife away from the symbiote but were unsuccessful. They held it above your reach, eyeing it, before they turned to you.

"Where did you get this?" When you didn't answer, they shook you harshly. "Where did you get this?"

"Fuck you."

Shaking their head, they walked back to the house while you struggled to get away. They walked all the way from the living room back to the room you were put in. They tossed you onto the bed and then slammed the door.

You rolled onto your stomach and pushed yourself up to sit. The symbiote moved towards the vanity mirror and sat on the bench. It creaked with their weight, but it held itself up.

"_____, where did you get this?" They held up the knife, pointing it towards you. You didn't respond.

It seemed to piss them off as they got up from the bench, seemingly going to lunge at you. But they stopped. They seemed to be thinking, and they sat back down. Maybe they thought it wasn't worth it?

"Look, I know that you may be a little... stressed from the recent events, but you have to be cooperative. Knull will not be as forgiving as I might be, and if he finds out you were outside... it won't be good."

Silently rolling your eyes, you pushed yourself against the wall. "Then why did he break my nose?"

They cringed for a moment but quickly composed themselves, "He did not mean it: you were simply acting out."

"Acting out? I was trying to get away from him because he grabbed me!"

Rumble hissed, whispering, "Do not raise your voice."

Before you could even answer, they continued, "_____, you must calm down before he comes back. He- urgh," they got up from his chair, and paced around for a moment.

They turned back to you, and held out the knife. "I won't tell him about this," he gestured the knife towards you, "But what I will say is this- if you continue to act out, either to me, or worse, Knull, I won't save you from the consequences. Do you understand?"

You looked at their hand, and then back to them. You remembered how worried Cletus and Carnage were about Knull, and how easily he was beaten. While Eddie nor Venom never said anything about either Carnage or Knull, you knew that it would be the same for them.

"...I understand." Rumble nodded, and began to walk out. "I'll leave you here for now: Knull will be back by noon, he should bring you lunch."

They opened the door, but they turned back to you. "I'm... sorry for shaking you. But please, next time just cooperate."

They shut the door, and you heard it lock.

You already checked the room beforehand, so you took off your shoes and socks, setting them down next to your bed. You laid down, trying to rest, while also trying to think of any way to escape.

---

The next few hours were just sleeping. You didn't dream at all, but when you woke up, you saw that it was probably already noon. You pulled back the covers, and noted that your shoes and socks were gone, and replaced with slippers.

You looked back to the window, trying to see if anyone was outside. You couldn't tell, so you laid back down.

While you were thinking about what to do, you heard a knock. The door opened, and you saw Knull peer inside. He smiled, and pushed open the door fully. He walked in, and you saw Rumble follow behind him.

Even though the room was huge, it looked small when Knull fully stepped inside. He looked around, humming a little tune, before he walked over to your bed and sat at the edge.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, holding a plate of food. You didn't really care about the food, though. Instead, you glared at Knull, not looking away for a moment.

You could see Rumble give you a nervous look, but you didn't give him a glance. Knull's smile faltered a little, but he held out the plate of food, trying to get you to take it.

"It won't kill you to eat." When you didn't reach out to take it, he continued, "_____, it's just meat and potatoes, how hard can that be to eat?"

While you were going to continue to ignore him, you gave a quick glance at Rumble, and the genuinely seemed worried. They were holding their hands, and their eyes, while just blank, still held some sort of warning.

I won't save you from the consequences.

You turned back to Knull, and reluctantly grabbed the plate from him. His smile returned, as he beamed at you. "Good, eat as much as you can."

He reached out to touch your face but you moved to the side. He frowned. "_____." You heard Rumble quietly protest, but you did not care.

"Why did you take me?"

Knull looked at you, and shook his head before he suddenly stood up, and yanked the plate out of your hands. He threw it at the wall, a loud crash following suit. Food and ceramic bits were all across the dresser and the wall, but he didn't seem to care and he grabbed you by your shirt and hoisted you up.

"Why are you acting so difficult? I saved you, I'm bringing you to a better life and all you can do is act like a brat."

"Why did you take me?" You could see him get irate when you repeated yourself, and he was about to do something to you, but suddenly, a hand was placed on his shoulder.

"_____ is simply worried, they're not in the right of mind-"

Knull dropped you, letting you fall to the bed, and lunged towards Rumble. They tried to dodge, but were unsuccesful. Knull backhanded them, hitting them across the room and through the window. Glass shattered everywhere, and you heard Rumble hit the ground below the room. What was with Knull and throwing people through windows?

While you tried to peek over to see if they were ok, Knull marched over to the broken window. "You will not interfere with this!" He pointed down, probably to Rumble, before he turned back and walked to you.

He kneeled, grabbing your face before you could stop him. He rubbed his thumbs across your cheeks, and he embraced you in a hug.

"_____, I love you very much, you are very dear to me. You are my baby, and you will have everything you will ever ask for once you are ready. But..."

"The next time you run away like you did this morning, I will cut off your legs and make sure you never leave me again."

You were silent, trying not to show your fear. He gave you a kiss on your forehead, smiled and stood up. He walked to the door, saying, "I will see you tonight. Fix your attitude by then."

He stopped and turned to the window, yelling out "Rumble, replace that window before tonight."

He slammed the door behind you, and you were left shaking, as you wondered what you were going to do.

---

By the time you were getting ready for bed, Rumble had finally fixed your window by having another symbiote in the nearby city get a new window panel for him. He had let Knull be in charge of giving you your dinner, as he did not want another window to be replaced.

They were just getting down from putting it in place when they heard something from behind them. They turned around, seeing nothing. They looked closer, and saw an outline of someone in the trees.

"Who's there?"

A voice shushed them. "Be quiet."

Just before Rumble could attack them, the stranger put their hands up. "I am not here to fight you, but I need you to listen to me."

Rumble scoffed. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because I know that you feel somewhat bad for _____. I have a way to get them out."

Rumble did not falter in their stance, but they were intrigued. "How can a human defeat a god?"

"Oh please, I'm not that human."

The figure stepped out, and Rumble realized they were another symbiote. A white and black one, and while they looked familiar, they couldn't remember who it was.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Anti-Venom, I am a... offspring of Venom. I have a proposition for you, that I think you would benefit greatly from."

Rumble considered his options. He gave a glance to the window, knowing Knull was either still there or was somewhere in the house.

"Let's find somewhere more private, yes?" Anti-Venom smiled, it's teeth glinting in the light.

Rumble relaxed, and fully turned to Anti-Venom, nodding. "You have one chance."

Anti-Venom chuckled. "That will be all I need."

~~~

I was rereading the previous parts and got inspired to write this. I hope y'all like it tho because this was fun to write, love you guys sm <3

also yes Anti-Venom will appear next chapter dw I just feel like I'm not giving anyone in the story any dialogue so I wanna work on that

[wasyago]

hai !! Anon who asked about the art inspo! :D here's the separate ask you requested for clothing !!

hi!!! so, in the first ask you asked about advice on clothing design, and im sad to say that i don't have any structural advice for it 😔... i don't really have guidelines or rules i follow that are like... idk, exist. so there's gonna be a lot of rambling of me explaining my thought process u3u

so, um. a lot of clothing that i draw is heavily influenced by things that i myself like to wear, like baggy pants and big dress shirts and stuff. and in general i try to draw clothes that would be comfortable for the character to wear or would be beneficial to them. for example characters that move a lot wearing clothes that don't limit movements and don't get in the way, characters that work with dusty materials wearing aprons and gloves, characters with a lot of fur not wearing tight fitting clothes, etc. like, putting myself in place of the character and figuring out if i would actually wear something.

clothes are also a big part of the character's personality and image, so they need to show it in some way. if the character is a navy admiral who cares a lot about discipline, he will wear his clothes properly buttoned and clean, with no scrunched up sleeves or loose collars. if the character is a demon who hides his true nature, he will wear gloves and shoes to hide the claws, and big bulky clothing to appear round and harmless. a character who works with their hands a lot will have practical clothes with lots of belts and pockets and patches, and will be less likely to wear complex or expensive patters and ruffles.

and then like, contrast in shapes and sizes and colors is also applied to clothes. things that have more contrast will stand out, things that have less contrast will blend in. for example if the character is wearing big red shoes over black pants, the shoes will stand out as an important detail. if the character is wearing black shoes and black pants, the shoes are not relevant to the design. when some item of clothing stands out, but doesn't have any design or character significance, its very obvious because it looks out of place. or even worse when a random item is fighting for attention with the actual important detail. for example when a character has this intricate patterned shirt that is supposed to attract attention, but then they also wear black gloves over a white coat that contrast to the max, and suddenly you don't know where to look.

i gotta say that my clothing designs are definitely on a simpler side due to my style. there is a level of detail, but its mostly patters and stuff to create noise and busyness. my designs focus more on shapes than on details and accuracy, which is good for what i draw, but proves to make everything harder when it comes to making dnd characters for example, that are supposed to have an insane level of detail with layers and colors and patterns and nuance....

what else... i guess yeah, i look at a lot of art and real life photos of clothing and costumes for inspiration. seeing what other people think and enjoy is very refreshing sometimes and helps to figure out a lot of the details. from how to draw the collar on that particular shirt to what people wore in 15th century to what level of detail a costume should have.

and um, yeah i guess that's it? not a lot of theory when it comes to clothes but a lot of thinking, probably unnecessary but who knows

[antiqua-lugar]

tagged by @invinciblerodent and thank you so much for the tag, it was super fun and a great break for today!

tagging @margridarnauds, as I think pairing songs with kissy-picrew (using this one) sounds right up your alley!

also all under the cut, because. well.

I still haven't found the perfect song for them as a couple but I have found the perfect song for when gale tried to blow himself up, and then to achieve goodhood and then TRIED TO BLOW HIMSELF UP THREE MORE TIMES, LOVE OF MY LIFE YOU GOTTA STOP DOING THAT

The perfect song for two men riddled by insecurity issues who just need to fully believe each others' Anywhere you go, let me go too / Love me, that's all I ask of you

(And the lines Let me lead you from your solitude and Say the word and I will follow you are a nice bonus. If Caradoc being Raoul and Gale being Christine means that the Phantom is Mystra, then so be it).

I have actually a whole folk song playlist for the two of them, especially because there are so many folk songs about someone called William, like SO MANY and some of them are SO appropriate but I have a soft spot for this one which is a version of the beauty and the beast (or the loathly lady) trope. tl;dr monstrous lady comes in his house and because King Henry is *that *noble and good he lets her eat all his favourite animals *and *sleeps with her, she becomes a beautiful maiden and in some versions also brings all the animals back to life

Also I like the ambiguity of the ending where imho it's not exactly clear how the curse broke BUT IT DID and now King Henry has the world most beautiful woman as a reward for being so good and noble.

Wyll gets a redeemed Bhaalspawn instead but that's probably how Mister Wylliam "I wanna get married and have children. Let's get engaged and then go to the Hells to slay demons together for the foreseeable future" Ravengard likes it.

Aaaand it's this one:

Now that Patch 6 lets them be together even if she wants to fly away on a dragon it's less tragic for me to figure out their ending but the way the male singer is hoping she'll live another day and he will be by her side (And if she doesn't have the will/But it seems the whole world does I'll stay because/ *I will be the man my father never was) while she tells the gods that if they touch him they WILL pay (But to a woman by the end you'll kneel and plead/'Cause I'm more than what my mum told me to be*)...

So the main problem with these two is that Elendris' doesn't really care about anything except the ones he loves and Astarion really should NOT be trusted with that influence on him until his character development kicks in *and they are both painfully self aware of it but *also don't really know how to stop it before it goes too far. And that's why they sent themselves to the Underdark so they can figure it out while helping people. And maybe develop some morals.

I assume some level of this will always exist in their relationship and for some reason this is the song to express it:

I like the self awareness of the couple in the song, the joy in love and being loved in this way and also we're like an odd pair of shoes / One slightly stylish and one slightly plain / One for the nightlife and one for the rain does sound like something Mister Astarion "UGH" Ancunín would say.

Last but not least, for my old veterans with trauma:

There is a version with English lyrics here, it's a love song about how the other person is the only one who truly understood them and I love that the chorus says "By looking for you in this world, I got to know it and I gave it to you". It truly fits Ves'i'ran background of having being promoted/kicked out of gythianki society due to how obviously "sentimental" he is and having spent decades as a ranger in Faerun, learning to love it while being unable to just stop being loyal to an absent queen because otherwise what's the point of everything.

Halsin instead gets "In recent years I have lost more than one friend / I lost myself plus a few lighters / Life gives and then it takes/ That's why I'm afraid to be near you"

There was probably something more thematically appropriate but I like italian rap. Sue me.

[mumble-jumble-gallery]

When riding the coattails of song by day, this classy cowpoke makes it out like a bandit under the covered night. After coming out much sweeter than his bittered brother, it's no wonder the Witch left Rhubarb Pie to crumble all on his own. This laid back fella will sweep cookies off their feet with such sweet melodies. Like they say, music is good for the soul and that makes it just as rich on the side.

If you listen closely at times in the evening when the air is at its most crisp and the cows their most poked, one could hear just the softest singing. A song being strummed by the fire as the fella idly sways...almost like...the hunched cookie is entranced in the moment..With head full of nothing more but the lyrics just are popping off, the deep enriched tunes he sings by fire light at his most comforting place makes the late nights less wild. Despite the sweetness that he keeps, forgive a fella for being a bit shy on the side when the rustles start up. Whatever melody he's working on day in and day out still ain't ready to share.

Huh...guess this pie has layers...

---------------------------------------

-As a thief, his bounty isn't much to sneeze at so he's perfectly safe from other more dangerous bandits and bounty hunters though he did nearly turn to crust when he encountered someone truly formidable -Sometimes yah just gotta pick your battles and he ain't going down without a hoedown first -There might be rumors of a place that is a bit more of a daring group which is the kinda crowd he wouldn't want to cross paths with but of course there are...more pressing matters when it comes to curiosity~ After all, one knows how the cats fared :]

-Holds no real purpose but to carry on with only crumbs to his name after the Witch took one bite and spat him right out. Goes to show that there's such thing as TOO much sweetness...just enough dumb luck to get him by alive... -Quite a set of vocals on this one! Seems like something got overlooked during the baking process after a fateful encounter with some wild cake creatures helped the lonesome lad figure out how to have a way with words. Now cake hounds are happily yipping at his heels as he wanders the dusty trail

-Has a brother who runs his own mafia thing and helps with the business through captivating an audience with fancy melodies and even snatching a few sparklies from the more seedy folk. As for a sister? Who can say~

-Don't expect him to be much of a fighter when he likely takes on a more supportive role with his songs relieving stress and can even soothe high-strung emotions. As mellow as he is to be, there's still has a bit of a temper to him that will make the regret all the more sickeningly sweet. 

-Beware the bonk from his banjo if his voice doesn't do the trick 

-Spoils Ruby Barbed Hen to bits! The plucky cluck sweeps up the crumbs that fall from her cookie and tends to him like a mother hen

-With all the nibbles taken out from the get-go, poor guy is kinda a glass cannon physically since his body kinda crumbles a bit with extra force from anywhere else but his back crust. No worries! He patches himself up with some pie filling ointment when the cracks get irritating. Not everything is all bitter greens when he gets sick tattoos as part of the deal. 

-Loves his partners with all of his heart. Gotta be grateful for the ones who yah can take off your shoes around

-----------------------

Gaze upon my cowboy son

Soon his mafia brother shall follow. Maybe. If my brain doesn't betray me again

[ladyswillmart]

That One Short Scene I Wrote Where Y’shtola Pays Nero To Deep-Fry Nidhogg’s Eyeballs In The Fry Vat At The Hustings Strip Galleria’s “Ol’ Mistbeard’s Fish ‘n Chips”

Because I spent my lunch hour looking for this and I know how much @osterby loves it:

🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟🍟

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Positive,” Y’shtola replied, teeth clenched firm.

“You’re absolutely, positively sure I cannot tempt you with one of our famous and tantalizing Ol’ Mistbeard mall-style fried haddock and sliced popoto chips combo meals, served with side salad, your choice of dressing and one medium-sized soft drink for only four fifty-nine?”

Good gods, but the Garlean had fallen from what little grace he’d accumulated during his tenure with the XIVth Legion. He fell so far and so hard, there was naught but a vast crater where once grew the sunflower that was Nero tol Scaeva. Then again, the way he rattled that off spiel suggested a man who was once more at the top of a very small game. Maybe he was happier that way.

Nero’s face was totally unreadable behind those specs. Y’shtola was initially surprised they let him wear them on the job, until she noticed the oleaginous film coating the lenses. Guess a minor dress code violation beats taking a spatter of hot lard to the corneas.

“Listen,” she said, short of grabbing the collar of his grease-spattered work shirt. “This is an emergency. Though I’m guessing that the significance of the continued existence of a couple of grotty eyeballs–as you so eloquently put it–is entirely lost on you.”

“We don’t have those on the menu, no.”

“Right. So let’s just say the fate of the planet could very well rest in your nasty, slimy, zitty little hands and leave it there.”

Meanwhile, Aymeric milled about behind her, innocently, eager to put this whole mess behind him, pretending to be engrossed in the Ol’ Mistbeard Lil’ Landlubbers toy display (this month: Moofy Moogle Wacky Wind-Ups, collect all eight, not suitable for children under 3). He simply could not understand why they had entrusted the disposal of Nidhogg’s eyeballs to him so many times, not when he’d bungled it up so badly the last six or seven times. At this point, was it really his fault anymore? No. No, it was not. Simply because he decided the matter was actually someone else’s problem now, and thus refused to blame himself for it this time or even feel remorse or guilt, no matter how bad that athlete’s foot outbreak was getting at the Limsa Lominsa Wet ‘n Wild.

Nero sighed, affecting disinterest. “I told you. It goes against corporate policy to cook any food that does not come directly from–”

“–oi! Scaeva!” An identically dressed lalafell came waddling out from behind the tills. Identically dressed, though upon his head was the paper Captain’s Hat that gave away his supervisory position. “My wife called, says Boo-Boo got into the trash again. Boy, what a mess! Gee whiz. Well, I’m headin’ out early so I can rent a rug steamer before the shops close. You gotta close up.”

“Whatever,” he replied, flatly. Boo-Boo was the manager’s dog and he did this at least three or four times a week. Nero figured they probably had the filthiest house in the Goblet.

“Don’t forget to lock the register.”

“Right-o.”

“And, uh. Don’t leave the tartar sauce out all night. Again.”

“Gotcha.”

“And remember what I told you about the glue traps.”

“Pick the rats off and label them before putting them in the freezer.”

The manager nodded and gave a little wink and finger guns as he headed out, obviously satisfied with his own training efforts. It was surprisingly difficult to find good help these days, especially the kind that was totally cool with handling tartar sauce.

The instant he tottered out of sight, Nero’s entire demeanor changed, from the tone of his voice to the way he angled his shoulders–electing to shift to the much cooler 60° left-facing cheat-out. His eyebrows furrowed deep enough to support a cabbage patch. “Fry vat’s in the back. Right this way.”

Y’shtola yanked Aymeric by the sleeve and followed Nero with him in begrudging tow.

“Mind the glue traps on the way back.” Nero gestured vaguely. “If you lose a shoe, corporate policy says it becomes chili meat tomorrow.”

“Really?” Aymeric blinked. “They have really good chili here. Always seems very fresh, fresh ingredients.”

Nero shrugged. He had just said the rats were usually frozen but “Okay.”

“Don’t provoke him, Aymeric, he is dangerous, remember? He used to be Gaius van Baelsar’s spymaster,” warned Y’shtola, looking appropriately appalled at everything about this, everything, even the going price of a mall-style fish ‘n chips combo meal these days. “Never mind. Can you fry the eyeballs for us or not?”

The trio was now in the kitchen of the Hustings Strip Galleria food court’s Ol’ Mistbeard Fish ‘n Chips, crowding around before a large metal vat, reeking of stale vegetable oil and tallow. The author understands that the preceding sentence may be somewhat vague with regards to exactly who or what was reeking and reassures you that that you are correct, however you interpreted it.

“I can fry them,” Nero said, lighting a cigarette. “One at a time, of course.”

“Fine. One at a time.” Y’shtola nodded, reaching for her backpack. “Just be quick about it.”

“Right. That’ll be fifty thousand each. Up front.”

“You’re joking–!”

Aymeric was currently enjoying some of that famous Ol’ Mistbeard extra-zesty cocktail sauce right out of the institutional-size bucket, direct from corporate HQ. Being a gentleman of refinement, he was, at least, using a spoon.

“Mnnfh. I don’t think he’s joking,” he contributed, helpfully. “Hey, can I take this home with me?”

Nero shrugged. “Okay.”

“Didn’t I tell you that the fate of the planet depends on the permanent destruction of these dragon’s eyes?” Y’shtola fumed. “How can you be so greedy?”

“Oh? Why. You wound me, Scion. I am genuinely hurt that you would misconstrue my pricing scheme as mere avarice. Hurt, but not surprised, mind you. Anyway, I think my prices are more than fair, given the current state of the deep-fryer vat bribery economy, plus the nature of your request.” Nero took a long drag on his cigarette. “This is a difficult business, young lady.”

“What in the hells is so difficult about being bribed to throw other people’s shit into a fryer vat?”

Nero’s eyebrows arched at her outburst. “Why. I don’t know, missie. Perhaps the very same thing that has apparently made it impossible for you to find less ridiculous way to get rid of a giant eyeball.”

Y’shtola chewed up the insides of her cheeks. When there was nothing left to gnaw, she reached for her wallet.

[umichenginabroad]

Kayak voyages and el Rio Misterioso...

Week 6

It's come to my attention that more people than I thought read my blog posts, so here's to all of my adoring fans who've been here since the early weeks! If you're new, I gotta say that these are definitely a treat (but of course I'm a bit biased). This post might be shorter than my other ones since it was a pretty relaxed week with not too much going on. However, read till the end! Treat it as waiting for the post-credits at the movies, I might have a hint about where I'm going this weekend...

Pirates of the San Sebastián Bay

I'm going to skip past Monday and Tuesday to just jump right into the rest of the week since those were mainly more days of research. Due to Tecnun having a university holiday on Wednesday, we were able to have that day off! It was super nice out so we decided to seize the day (most of the day after napping for maybe half of it) to embark on a kayak excursion. With the luck from a shilling and 5 euro note I found on the ground, I had high hopes that we would have the blessing of the sea on our side. The rental wasn't that expensive at all, especially for a two-person kayak and roughly 2 hour time slot. We originally planned to set sail for the island itself, but decided that we wanted to aim for an even bigger goal of going around the island. Everything was going smoothly until we reached the mouth of the bay, since this area featured a lot of unexpected rocky patches. As newly appointed seafarers, Jayashree and I wouldn't let this be our end. We successfully entered the choppy waters and were officially now out in open water! At this point, we should've been cast alongside Captain Jack Sparrow because we would make phenomenal pirates. Seeing the back of the island was really neat along with feeling how different it is being the only boat on the water. We ended up having a really good time and 100% would do it again!

Land Ho!

Afterwards we stopped by an icecream stand to reward ourselves on our journey, where I found a rather interesting choice to say the least. It was called a Frigo Pie, or Refrigerator Foot, and it was actually shaped... just like a foot. If I had to rate it overall, I would say a 6/10 for taste and 9/10 for presentation. What better way to cool off on a hot day, right?

It was a bit smaller than expected. I think to improve their product they should make it somewhere around a size 7-8 in US shoe sizes. More bang for your buck you know.

Photo Ops and Friendly Competitions

On Thursday, the night had a lot in store for us. To start, Jayashree, Izzy, Deidra, and I had the amazing idea to recreate some classic JCPenney-esque family photos. I don't really know how else to explain them besides just showing the results, so take a look below at the outcome and I'll do my very best to explain our vision:

We were attempting to create a square with all our hands. We almost got there but it resembles more of a rhombus.

Izzy may or may not have dropped me before taking this picture for the second time.

A big thank you to Diego for being our photographer! Later on, some of us had bought tickets to go to the local club, Bataplán, to get the experience of going out in Spain. To sum it up, we had a great time! We did some rounds of arm wrestling where Jayashree was the reigning champion, and enjoyed listening to all the spanish reggaeton music (there were also some english songs and also a random Can-Can remix).

A quick showcase!

Lately whenever I'm not at work doing research or something with my friends, I've been spending time getting back into drawing. It's always been something that I love to put time into and see how much I've improved over the years. At one point I considered going to school for storyboard animation, but I figured that I like art more as a hobby anyways :). I don't usually do architecture drawings, but I wanted to do a challenge for myself and also sketch it only in pen to up the stakes. Take a look and leave a review in the comments!

This street is from a picture I took when I was just walking around San Sebastián one day.

The Big Finale of the Week: Amusement Park!

On our very first day here, we were taken to Monte Igueldo for a lunch and the best view of the city. We decided to go back on Sunday since there's an amusement park at the top (meant for little kids but I mean we had to check it out). After disembarking from the cable car and reminiscing about the time we've spent here so far, we took a lap around to see what we wanted to do. Almost instantly, we locked eyes with a sign that read: Rio Misterioso. Intrigued, we saw that it was a little boat ride and immediately knew that this should be saved as the best for last. From there, our first stop was the rollercoaster, and boy was it actually more of a thrill than we thought it would be. Not on the same level as Cedar Point, but there were some worthy drops that gave a decent adrenaline rush. We decided to split up briefly, since Izzy and Jayashree wanted to do the bumper cars and Deidra and I wanted to take on the Casa del Terror. I was surprised that Deidra wanted in on this since she's not a fan of all things spooky, but this would be her first haunted house and one at a kid's amusement park is a pretty good starter. For 3 euros, it definitely was an experience. The theme inside wasn't exactly cohesive and varied between movie theatre, jurassic park, the shining, catacombs, and skeletons playing chess. I won't name names but a certain someone was jumpscared by a door, and I almost tripped because I didn't see the stairs. Once we left, we found Jayashree and Izzy living it up in the bumper car arena and then strolled our way with anticipation to el Rio Misterioso. It was a pretty calm and scenic ride with a view of the ocean and city, just shorter than we expected it to be. The route led us into a small underpass where we saw...Peter Pan? Seeing him made me feel magical and whimsical, making for a truly life-changing boat ride. With that, I think the mysterious river really did live up to its name.

The view from the top!

My homies Pennywise and Peter Pan!

As promised, I said that I have a sneak peak into what next week's post will bring. First of all, thanks for staying this long! I really do appreciate when people read my posts and get to see what I'm doing day-to-day :). Now for the hint!

You get 5 blanks: _ _ _ _ _

It's a city in France, there's a show with my name in it and this city, and the Olympics will be taking place here this year. It's probably a dead giveaway, but still fun to guess!

See you soon,

Emily Dobao

IPE San Sebastian, Spain

July 2nd, 2024

[vryivs]

she really sees right through his big boy act its so cute

yanqing acquires a new parental figure every patch that he's in. obsessed

"thank GOD i dont have to somehow maintain a one person polycule"

she makes a good point. yet another w for my beautiful daughter whose companion mission i still havent played

lingsha POV!

do not fear, team cunt are here

btw it causes me sympathetic pain seeing hanya's chest plate be a cup size too small. imagine the chafing. jesus. i <3 practical fantasy armour

his voice is so much softer talking to these guys i love 孙晔. his line delivery literally never disappoints. also look at him.

exact right vibe. perfect casting.

help i went to gush over his talent and found out he's also voiced wu xie? remarkable. what a man.

also jing yuan is GUILTY the way he speaks to dan heng (former prisoner) and lingsha (former prisoner). he's like teddy after he tears up a pair of shoes and gets told off

h. hello?

ok well i am definitely finding out what that is about

oh its just more sanctus medicus stuff. nevermind. i wanted to see jing yuan transform into a catboy but i guess not all dreams can come true

jing yuan likers how are we feeling getting explicit confirmation that this man is soaked in trauma

GET HIS ASS

he's so nice about it. good. he better be

the framing of this shot is so funny.

anyway, i kind of really like how this is handling the shackling prison. like it was obvious (to me at least) that it wasn't going to be an 'oh there are flaws but its a good system' because dan heng exists. seeing them really emphasise that the shackling prison is based out of a real desire to enact vengeance, rather than to dish out just punishment is great

the xianzhou alliance and its politics are so appealing to me. they arent trying to tell us 'hey this is a good system.' theyre letting it exist and letting us witness it ourselves and make our own minds up (which i think is why despite having the same rating the honkai games feel more mature than genshin--i struggled playing genshin with how it seemed always to explain how the good guys are morally pure even if their actions suggest otherwise)

yeah that sounds like fu hua (affectionate)

---------> imbibitor lunae

she will NOT let him catch a break omg. i love her

NO FREAKING WAY

omg omg omg. dan heng lore??? the fact he has the memories isnt an inherent botched rebirth thing he was literally experimented on. thats crazy

no wonder jing yuan is the most understanding about dan heng's relationship to his past if he knew this all along

jing yuan is so dramatic dropping this lore all while looking like this :3

mf you could have said this back when dan heng was having a crisis at jingliu's reunion party and yet

i love lingsha. girl was enjoying her grudge and now she's gotta let it go. devastated for her

lingsha's plan is great she is. god i cant think of the word but she is so venomous. so conniving. thank GOD she's on our side because her mind is created to light fire under everyone's asses. she does NOT pull her punches. no nonsense girlboss.

youre so obsessed with him it makes you look stupid

ok that is quite fucked up. infact

everything he says just makes her sound better and better

i am in love with this woman

i am so so so in love with this woman

[kitsunerokko]

bought a nice pair of socks a few months ago, intending to have a pair that don't wear out super fast by getting something not the absolute cheapest

anyway a hole happened to my shoes and that bit of exposure tore a hole right into one of the socks and I'm so pissed off

[ticklishtimothee]

our final night alive (simon kalivoda x reader)

summary: the reader and simon are in the bathroom together before it all goes down. and hey, since all their friends are going to “pound-town” as simon would call it, why shouldn’t they?

a/n: i just watched fear street 1994 on netflix and totally fell in love with simon, so i wrote this. i promise i’m working on the requests in my inbox as well, i just had to get this idea out while it was fresh.

words: 1,740

While Kate and Josh go into the girl’s bathroom, you and Simon figure it’s best to leave them alone. So, you follow Simon into the boy’s room, the clothes you’d snatched from the lost and found clutched tightly in your hands.

“Hey, I’ll trade you this Iron Maiden t-shirt for the cardigan,” Simon grins.

“You want to wear this thing?” you ask, raising a brow and holding up the blue knitted nightmare in your hands. You can already tell how itchy the fabric would be against your skin.

Simon nods. “I think it would really accentuate my shoulders. I’ve been told they’re my best feature,” he says, winking.

“Whoever told you that was a liar,” you reply, but toss him the cardigan anyway.

He catches it easily, then tosses you the t-shirt in return.

He wastes no time in pulling the white t-shirt over his head, and you’re thankful to see it gone. It was bad enough that he’d been wearing it for all that time, regardless of the blood stains. You avert your eyes as he strips off his jeans as well.

“Nice tighty-whities,” you mutter.

Simon snorts. “Sorry for putting practicality over fashion.”

“Says the guy putting on a girl’s cardigan to fight monsters.”

“Touché.”

You turn to face the wall, pulling your own shirt over your head, checking your torso quickly for any traces of blood. Finding none, you pull the new t-shirt on.

Out of the corner of your eye, you realize Simon still isn’t making an effort to get dressed. Instead, he’s checking himself out in the mirror, and you can’t tell if he’s goofing off or actually looking for any stains to wash off of his skin.

“You have some blood on your back,” you tell him. “Can’t tell if it’s Sam’s or yours, but better safe than sorry.”

Simon looks in the mirror, tilting his head to catch a glimpse, and furrows his brows. “I don’t see it. Help me out?”

You grab a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and wet them under the sink. “Turn around.”

He does so, and you find the blood in question and wipe it off.

He jumps under the touch. “You couldn’t have used warm water?” he asks, difficult as always.

“I could let this sink run for five minutes and it’d be warm at best,” you reply. “You think this place has the budget for hot water?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I guess so.”

There’s a pause, and you’re still standing behind him, your eyes scanning over the pale expanse of his back, taking in each freckle. His shoulders were pretty nice, actually.

“You know you’ve gotta change your pants, too,” he says.

“Oh, right,” you say, cheeks burning. You go back to the pile of your things. When you look up, he’s watching you. “Am I allowed a little privacy?” you ask.

He smiles. “You could go into the stall.”

You roll your eyes. “Or you could turn around and not be a pervert.”

“Hey, you already saw me in my underwear,” he points out.

You scowl at him, then hook your thumbs into the waist of your pants and pull them down in a quick, fluid motion. You toe off your shoes to take them off entirely, leaving them on the tiled floor. “Happy?” you ask.

His smile fades. “What happened to your thigh?”

You look down and see the injury he’s referring to. Honestly, you’d been so caught up in everything going on, you’d barely noticed the shallow gash in your skin, but now that it was brought to the forefront of your mind, the dull ache began to settle.

“I don’t know,” you reply. “I guess one of those psychos grazed me.”

Simon takes another wad of paper towels. “May I?” he asks.

You nod, and he dampens them under the faucet. “Come put your leg up to the sink.”

You do as he says, wincing at the first contact he makes with it.

“Sorry,” he practically whispers. “I don’t have anything to bandage it up with, but the least we can do is get it clean, okay?”

“Okay.”

His face is close to your bare leg, making goosebumps rise where his nose and lips brush the skin. He’s gentle with you, one hand holding your leg steady while the other dabs at the wound tenderly, and you watch as the red mess slowly begins to clear up, leaving the wound still open but no longer bleeding.

“There, that should be better,” he says. “When we find the others, maybe they’ll have something to patch you up with.”

“Thanks.”

You place both feet back on the ground, standing before Simon, both partially undressed (him more than you) and trying to hide the feelings of terror in both of your chests.

“Do you think Deena and Sam are gonna make up?” you ask. “Oh, I think they’re probably fucking as we speak,” he replies.

You give him a light smack to the back of his head. “You’ve got such a dirty mind.”

“I’m serious! Kate and Josh are probably doing it, too. The whole last-night-on-earth thing gets people horny, don’t you know?”

“Oh, so we’re all gonna be killed by some freaks, so we should be banging?” you ask.

“Are you asking in general, or about us?”

You pause. “Both.”

His cheeks flush pink, and you swear it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him embarrassed. “In general, yeah, I think it’s human instinct to seek out some pleasure before the end. As for us, well...If you’re down, I’m down.”

You stare at him for a second. “Really?”

“Only if you want to, I mean—”

You grab him by the shoulders and kiss him, effectively cutting off his rambling.

In no time, he’s pushed your back against the cool, tiled wall of the bathroom, kissing you back fevertently. You thread your fingers through his blond curls, and he sighs against your lips.

“Can I touch you?” he asks, breathless.

You nod, and he brings a hand between your legs, fingers running over your underwear teasing, making you shiver. 

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Yes,” you reply.

“I’ve never done this before,” he says, unable to meet your eye. “But I have a pretty good idea of what to do.”

“Me either,” you tell him. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out together.”

He nods and pulls you in for another kiss, this time rubbing you through your panties. You whine softly into his mouth.

“Does that feel good?”

“Try doing it a little gentler—oh, yes, like that…”

You can feel his hard cock against your belly as he reaches his hand down the front of your underwear. “Is this okay?”

“Yes, yes, it’s fine.”

Carefully, he finds your hole and presses one finger inside, making you clench nervously at first.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Do you want me to stop?”

You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Try to relax for me,” he all but coos in your ear, and you do so.

He lets his finger slowly curl and uncurl inside you, stretching you out.

“Do you want to…?” you ask.

“I don’t have a condom,” he says, knowing exactly what you were going to ask.

“Well, if you get me pregnant, we’ll probably be dead before it’s even got arms and legs.”

He chuckles, and you appreciate that he’s able to find humor in the fucked up things, just like you.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He yanks down his underwear, and while you’d teased him about it before, the tight, white fabric didn’t leave much to the imagination. Simon wraps his arms around your waist and hoists you up, bringing you over to the sink and sitting you down on the brim of it.

“There’s no way this thing is gonna hold us,” you say.

“If we break it, we’ll be dead before they make us pay for the damages,” he replies, and you laugh.

He makes quick work of pulling your panties down, and they fall to the floor as he parts your knees. “Please tell me if I hurt you,” he says. “I want it to feel good.”

You nod. “I promise.”

He lines himself up with your entrance, pushing his hips forward. He misses the first time, sort of poking the head of his cock into the crease of your thigh, and you both chuckle awkwardly at the mishap. The second time, he gets closer, but his cock slides upward and between your folds, making your legs jerk in surprise.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

The third time, he succeeds, and the initial stretch of his head entering you makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Should I stay still for a sec? Let you adjust?”

You nod, and so he does.

“You can move now.”

Slowly, he rocks his hips forward, and you manage to take more of him. Without you asking, he waits again, letting you get used to the feeling.

Your nails dig into his back. “You can go, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Simon, I’m sure,” you reply.

“Alright, I’m just double-checking!”

He fucks you carefully, his own movements a bit robotic at first, but when you pull him close to lock your lips together once again, he falls into a rhythm, and your ass hurts from sitting on the stupid sink, but he feels so good, his hot breath tickling your neck as he fucks you.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes. “I’m sorry, I’m already—”

“It’s fine, don’t apologize. You can come, just try to pull out,” you say.

He nods, and you can see him scrunching up his face, trying to gain some control and keep from cumming. It doesn’t make him last much longer, and he pulls out just in time, and you scoot to the side in a hurry, his come landing in the basin of the sink.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “I’m sorry, I can try to finger you again, or something.”

You laugh. “Simon, it’s fine. Some dudes would have come just from seeing me in my underwear. It’s fine.”

He nods, and his forehead is slightly sweaty, hair sticking to it, and his cheeks are flushed.

“I feel bad if you die and I didn’t give you an orgasm,” he says.

“Well then let’s both try our hardest not to die, and you can give me one another time. Deal?”

He grins. “Deal.”

[babybluebex]

me and my husband [baron zemo x reader]

summary ↠ in the process of making sure zemo is okay after a fight in latvia, you find a way to put captain john walker in his place. pairing ↠ baron zemo x fem!reader (y/n) word count ↠ 1.6k warnings ↠ explicit language, itty bitty tfatws ep. 4 spoilers, john walker being misogynistic and a Total Dick a/n ↠ (yes the title is a mitski reference) enjoy! masterlist/taglist in bio! (also thank u @therenlover for your invaluable support and screaming in my instagram dms)

As far as you were concerned, John Walker could rot in hell.

You had only just heard the fight break out, the smashing of glass making your quicken your step, and you had rushed into the room the moment that Walker, in his infinite prickishness, had hurtled that dumb metal shield through the air. You had watched it collide against your husband’s cheek, and Helmut had gone limp instantly and crumpled to the floor.

“What the hell?” you had cried, enraged, and Bucky and Sam were quick to come in after you. “What the fuck was that for, you prick?”

John Walker had given you a confused look, then looked to his partner, then to Sam and Bucky. Originally, Sam had initially been opposed to bringing you along on their mission to retrieve information about the Flag Smashers, but your husband had extended an ultimatum: “She comes with me, or I don’t come at all.” They needed Zemo to get into Madripoor, so the Americans sighed and allowed you to come. You yourself weren’t quite sure why Zemo was insistent that you come with him, but, the moment you saw him get hit by Captain America’s shield, it made sense: to vouch for him when he couldn’t.

“Who’re you?” John had asked carefully, and Sam huffed out a laugh.

“Aw, this’ll be good,” Sam had mumbled as you stormed towards John. Your shoes clicked against the floor as you came chest to chest with him, and you planted your hands on your hips.

“My name is Zemo,” you had told him. “And you just gave my husband a concussion.”

John stared at you for a minute, then at Helmut at his feet, then back at you. “Husband?” he replied. “But he’s been in jail for seven years.”

“Of all the people to explain my relationship to, you are not high on that list,” you spat. “Now, get him up.”

John looked around at his compatriots in obvious confusion, and Bucky sighed. “Just do it, man,” he mumbled.

“And why won’t you do it?” John asked.

“Because he’s not the one with the giant metal trash can lid strapped to his arm,” you said. “You are. You are the one who hurt my husband, and you are going to fix this. So, Captain, I suggest you move him from the middle of the floor.”

And now, finally back in the small Latvian flat, you were able to properly tend to Helmut. He had come to just as John had set him on the sofa, and you could gauge that he was concussed. It didn’t seem too bad, but he was still a bit disoriented. Helmut gave a small groan, certainly one of pain, and you whispered, “There he is. How’re you feeling, love?”

Helmut glanced around you for a moment, trying to get his bearings, and he mumbled, “What happened?”

“An American oaf with a trash can lid took you out,” you explained. “He got you in the face pretty good.” Gingerly, you skimmed your fingers over his cheek, testing for any tenderness, and you heard a low groan escape him when you touched the red patch on his face. “Let me get you an ice pack.”

“I can do it, mein Schatz,” Helmut began, but you gently pushed on his chest to keep him down.

“Hel, please,” you sighed. “You need to rest. Let me take care of you.”

After a moment, your husband sighed and laid back down, and he rested his head back on a pillow. Just as you stood up, Helmut reached out and grabbed your hand tightly. “You’re too good to me,” he mumbled, stroking his thumb along the back of your hand. “What would I do without you?”

“There’s no telling,” you sighed, and you leaned down to kiss him. He kissed back, a bit weak and tired, but his hand on yours spoke the words that his kiss didn’t. “Take off your jacket, my love, you’ll get too warm.”

You walked across the space to the bathroom, and you grabbed a small hand towel to run under some cold water. As you did your task at the kitchen sink, you heard John, Bucky, Lamar, and Sam all muttering between themselves, and you hardly listened to it. You expected it to be some drivel about teamwork or patriotism or whatever it was that any conversation with Captain America turned to, but you finally tuned in when you heard your husband’s name. “Zemo’s got you two cornered,” John said. “Making you do his shit for him. And he demanded to bring her along? Why didn’t you say no?”

“We needed him,” Bucky replied. “And there’s no him without her.”

“Oh, they’re some sorta Bonnie and Clyde?” John huffed. “You’re harboring a fugitive here. A-And you! You’d really put your wife in danger like this?”

“Mein Schatz is resourceful,” you heard Helmut mutter, and you drained the rag of excess water before moving back to him as he spoke. “Smart, clever, and cunning; I married her for a reason.”

You sat on the floor next to him and settled the cold rag over his eyes. He smiled a little and gave a quiet groan, and you rested your hand on his chest. He had done as you had asked and taken off his coat, but you still saw the red flush under his collar. Carefully, you reached up and undid the top few buttons in his wine-colored shirt, and you gave a playful tug at his gold necklace. “Can I get you anything?” you asked him quietly; you spoke in Sokovian, for no other reason than to make John and Lamar squirm.

“Bourbon?” Helmut asked, following your linguistic lead.

“Of course,” you replied. You took his hand off of his stomach and gave his knuckles a kiss, and added, “Anything else?”

“A kiss,” Helmut said, and he gave a quiet little laugh. “I can’t see your face, my treasure, but I know you’re grimacing at me.”

“Never,” you said with a click of your tongue, but you sat up on your knees and pressed a soft kiss to your husband’s lips. You liked kissing Helmut Zemo, especially moments like this, when it was just you and him. Of course, you were surrounded by men who were all bigger and stronger than both of you, but your mother language gave you a feeling of exclusion that you welcomed.

“Alright, whatever the fuck this is has gotta stop,” John groaned, and you broke away from the kiss slowly. “Listen, we’ve put up with a lot of your shit, Zemo, but your little cock-sleeve or whatever she is is taking things one step too far.”

Helmut sighed with the weight of the insult, took up your hand blindly and squeezed, and he whispered, “Go easy on him, won’t you?”

“Would you?” you asked, and planted a quick kiss to his cheek. You stood carefully and smoothed out your shirt, and then you turned to John. He truly was an impressive figure, but you felt his uneasiness radiating off of him. You were the player, and he the instrument; you only had to find the right chord. “First of all,” you began. “Insulting a woman because she likes to have sex? Low blow, Walker. I thought that Cap respected women.”

“He does,” Bucky said. “He’s supposed to.”

“I’m not Steve--”

“Did I ever say Steve?” you snapped. “No, I said Cap. Captain America is a title and a role that you should be fucking thankful for, and you treat it like a curse that’s been put on you. Cap protects and serves, and look at what you’ve done while you’ve had that shield: you’ve been frolicking around on television and causing more trouble than you’re worth.”

Sam gave an affirmative grunt from over your shoulder, and, if you had been facing him, you would have seen the way he pressed his fist into Zemo’s shoulder with a smile.

“You may not be Steve,” you said, taking a step closer. “I truly doubt that the world needs another Steve Rogers. But Captain America is supposed to inspire peace and freedom and trust and all of those American buzzwords, and you’re doing a piss-poor job at it. You have to trust that Sam and Bucky are making the right decisions here, even if those decisions involve me and my husband.” You paused and titled your head in trademark Zemo fashion, a habit you had picked up from Helmut, and you said, “I think that you’re forgetting that you’re in the presence of a man-- the man-- who managed to dismantle the Avengers. Bucky wouldn’t have gotten him out of prison without a good fuckin’ reason, and I think that his help’s been pretty invaluable. But what do I know, right? I’m just his little cock-sleeve.”

You pushed John aside in order to go to the kitchen area and fulfill Helmut’s request of a drink, and you felt proud of yourself. You had wanted to put him in his place ever since you had first heard of him, and your stomach was warm with pride.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Zemo,” John called across the room as you settled a few ice cubes into a small tumbler. “Sometimes I just… I’m sorry.”

“I’m not sure if I want to accept that apology or not,” you replied. “Let me sleep on it.” You brought the drink back to Helmut, and he moved himself to sit up on the couch properly. You took the cool towel from his face and carefully pressed it to the back of his warm neck, and you watched John and Lamar exchange uncomfortable glances. “Oh, and, Captain?” you added, and he turned to look at you. “Missus is nice, but it’s Baroness Zemo to you.”

[manjirowned]

KEISUKE BAJI | YOUR PLACE ON THE GROUND.

lucky lover: baji keisuke (x reader)

cw etc: swearing, mutual pining, cigarettes, this is love, the briefest mention of weed

all about: you, baji, your old bic lighter, and cheap menthol cigarettes vs. the wind at your private little hideout.

there’s a slight shiver next to you, coldness protruding from the boy on your right, arms huddled to his chest as he looks forward. the light from the moon rests on both of your fingers, creating panels as yours move to grab at the box in your bag.

you can’t remember how the conversation even started, the wind covering the accents in his words when it rustles through the trees or accentuating his insults when it dies down a little.

“i hope that asshole gets in a wreck on his way home.”

“so you’ve been saying for the past thirty minutes, baji.” he scoffs at the annoyance in your tone; sees over it and carries on with his rant, sprawling his legs before him as his hands move down to rest atop the wood he’s sitting on.

the log under you two is worn, bark faded slightly under the wear and tear of the weather and quite probably your tobacco addiction— but it stays in its place on the ground, waiting for you two like it’s ritual.

you’d found this spot roughly six months ago, aimlessly hiking, or looking for a place to maybe pack a bowl before you’d settled on a semi-open patch in the woods, secluded in trees with slivers of city lights poking through from a distance. the oaks you’d found months before had shed now, leaves brittle and hidden under the soles of your shoes, but they still provided enough coverage to feel alone.

shortly after finding it, you became enamored with it. the walk was pretty short all in all and you knew it wouldn’t feel remotely as long with keisuke by your side, bitching about whatever stranger had so much as looked at one of you two wrong.

your hands fumble against the packaging, tearing the plastic off before tucking it into the boy next to you’s pocket, an argument about how ‘littering in your spot is even worse than regular littering’ resting on the tip of your tongue in case he noticed. when he didn’t— he definitely did, you’re just the only person he’d let use him as a human trash can—, you hit the box against your palm a couple times out of habit, even though you never really understood why people did that.

“if you vaped or something we wouldn’t have to freeze to death, you know that right?” your eyes roll, head finally snapping in his direction.

“fuck you mean freeze to death? i dressed for the occasion, dickhead.” your hands gesture down to the fabric engulfing your figure, leaning over to nudge his shoulder with your own. “see how that didn’t even hurt? hoodie privileges.”

“pretty sure that’s mine.” his grumble is quiet, caught under his breath as he rubs his fingers together, trying to rid himself of the brittleness the cold has brought to his skin.

it’s easy to ignore him, passing him one of the squares and grabbing your own shortly after, resting the recently bought box at its honorary spot on your leg. it’s still too windy for an easy light, but that’s never really stopped you before.

“if it bothers you so much you don’t gotta come with.” you’re turned away from him again, head catching warmth from your bag while you fish around for your lighter.

“shut up.” you exhale a laugh and this is easy, too. it’s always easy with baji, whether you’re in an overly crowded environment or alone in your own little world. your breath spills from the bag, tumbles over and heats up the skin on your wrists, moving up in clouds to your palms.

“oh, got it.” it’s self assured and then you’re back in the present, looking at him, over exaggerating your movements as you motion your gaze from his eyes to his hands. it’s a dance the two of you do, towing the line of unspoken competition before you break in premeditated annoyance.

“cover for me? not gonna be able to light for shit.” it’s habitual; a routine process where his hands act like a barrier between your little flame and the world, and yours for his. at this point he should be ready and willing by the time you pull out your pack, but it’s almost taunting how he makes you ask every time.

“‘you don’t gotta come with’.” he mocks your previous comment, hunching over slightly nonetheless to cup his fingers— his long fucking fingers— over your cigarette. “you wouldn’t even be able to get a drag without me.” you don’t see his reaction, your eyes preoccupied with wearing down your paper under the fire, but you’re sure he’s got a harsh smile, a smirk with a snicker set up just for you.

there’s something unsaid in your friendship with keisuke. it shows up in abstruse ways; like when his attention stays on you for just a second too long or you slip away from your day to day responsibilities just to see him. he’s not the subtlest, but that must just mean you’re not the smartest. or maybe— in some twisted, childish little way— you like it more like this, all unspoken and yearning and nerve wracking.

you’re not sure how long it really takes you to light it, but your thumb is worn from the spark wheel and the metal pricks at and forms a little callous on the pad of skin and you’re just a little bit irritated.

“fucking annoying.” you grumble against the butt once you finally light it, puffs of smoke slipping past the corners of your lips. he pulls back, or maybe you do first, and you lift your hands up in return, cupped while you balance your cig in your mouth.

he leans down to try to run from the wind, head closer to your thighs, spine curving in a hunchback, hair falling uncomfortably over his head, and it’s unfair that he still looks good. your heart thumps louder than the repetitive catch of the lighter, the way it sounds over and over as he tries to work it in spite of the weather, but his muttered swears outdo your heartbeat as you exhale from the side of your mouth again.

“motherfucker,” he leans up too fast, almost hits you with the sheer speed of it, and shakes the lighter against his ear. “it empty?” he looks stupid like this, features pink from the harsh feel of the weather, eyes pointed into a glare at nothing specific as you move to flick the ash off the end of your cigarette now that he’s not actively attempting to light his. and, in a way, it’s like you won— because even though you invited him here to begin with, and even though you bought the cigarettes with your own dime, yours is lit and his isn’t.

“i think it’s empty.” yours is lit and his isn’t. dammit.

“no, you’re just shit at this.” you spend a lot more time than you’re willing to admit admiring, or analyzing as you’d like to think, baji. it’s important to know your friends, so it can’t be bad you want to know him, and it’s not romantic that you’ve picked up and memorized all the different ways he reacts and what each of them mean. so you’re not surprised when there’s a rumble in his scoff, voice sticking itself in the place where the air leaves his lungs.

he tosses the lighter onto the ground next to his feet. “this is fuckin’ stupid.” it takes a second, you think, for him to realize the lighter wasn’t his and he scrambles in an almost passable nonchalance to scoop it off the earth again. baji isn’t the brightest, but he’s smart. he’s smart when it comes to people and when it comes to you; even if there’s this rundown ploy between the two of you, even if neither of you could pull a real confession out from the other if you wanted to, and he knows you have a soft spot for him hidden behind all the light hits and titillating insults. he has it, too, he knows it festers like a disease— so he grins a little as he looks at you, hand reaching out in front of your face.

“let me take a pull,” his palms— that he’s noticed you like— lay flat, fingers curling up into tiny fists over and over as he waits for you as if you owe him anything. “gimme.”

“fucker— no.” his posture flops to dejected with minimal effort.

“this is bullshit,” he starts, huffing like a petulant child as he retracts his hand. “cold as fuck and i don’t get one drag? not one?” part of you is proud of yourself for moments like this. you’re grateful, even if you’d never tell him, that you get to watch him act incredulous like this. he pouts so often, but not in that cute little way people always talk about, and it tugs at your heart; but more than anything is swells your pride up beyond large at the fact you’re the one he lets see him like this.

it takes you forty-six seconds to suggest it. you’d thought of it before he’d even asked to share yours, you’d thought of it for so long without a presented opportunity, and now that you had it, you waited a whole forty-six seconds to spring your plan into action.

“here,” you lift his hand up to his mouth, guiding the butt back to his lips, spoon feeding him his cigarette. “move and you’re an ashtray.” your voice is quiet in your warning, words meshing together in your murmur and it’s like a little undeclared admittance to your nerves. the embers on the end of your cigarette deteriorate and you literally can’t daly if you want to enjoy the rest of your smoke in peace.

you balance it in between the crevices in your fingers, steadying it as you shorten the distance between the two of you and you think your heart is genuinely in your ass. you’re not sure if your stomach hurts from anxiety or the smoke, but you shake just a little bit when you approach him. this is nothing. this is a friend helping a friend, you’d even go as far as to say an addict helping an addict. nicotine addiction is a serious illness, and you’d never want to deprive someone of their little high after you offered it to begin with. you’re just being considerate; you don’t want to feel his breath on your face, or the way his hair brushes soft against your shoulder, you’re just helping out a friend.

you decide to close your eyes so you don’t have to watch him watch you. in retrospect, it’s probably a bad idea because you can’t line your squares up properly, but he tweaks your chin a little to make the connection. and his hand’s on your face, and yours is on his thigh— you don’t remember how it got there—, and your other is holding the half smoked stick, and your cigarettes are touching.

and he doesn’t inhale. idiot. you’ll slap him once you’re done, but for now you settle for tapping under his jaw, urging his throat to take in any oxygen while you wait, giving him all of yours. when he gets the hint, when you feel his jugular retract under his inhale, you grin around your cigarette, eyes opening and crossing to focus on the way the little spark passes between the two of them.

when you pull away from him, for once, he doesn’t say anything. you’re now watching him, and he’s still watching you, and it’s another external competition between the two of you: who’ll break first, who’ll utter the truth first, who’ll move past this redundant bullshit.

everything reeks of cigarettes, but you don’t really mind because keisuke ends the almost eye contact first, turning his chin up slightly to exhale. it’s embarrassing how speechless it makes you, as if you were even saying anything, and your ribs ache with jealousy at the trees for their ability to see him at any angle they’d want.

the wind has grown on you now as it pushes your smoke against baji’s features whenever you breathe out. it fills up the silence, whispers your divulgences so neither of you have to, and makes itself company amongst the two of you.

your eyes flicker to him and you know his flicker to you, and you wonder how the two of you would look to anyone that saw you. you wonder if the oaks that provide you your solace think the two of you look like quiet lovers sharing in an unhealthy habit, or if they think you’re friends without a real purpose decomposing after a long day. you don’t vocalize your thoughts, neither of you say another word until both of your cigarettes are out and gone and nothing but a filter; but you don’t mind much, sitting in silence in your place on the ground with keisuke.

[weirdmageddon]

“I FUCKED MY CAR UP AFTER RUNNING OVER A MATTRESS ON PURPOSE SO IT WAS TIME TO GET A NEW CAR. I TRAVELLED 7 MILES BY FOOT TO THE NEAREST DEALERSHIP AND WALKED MY ASS UP TO THE COUNTER AND ASKED FOR THEIR BEST DEAL. THEY TOOK ONE LOOK AT ME AND MY UNTIED SHOES WITH THE BIG TOE STICKING OUT AND MY BUSTED ASS TOP HAT WITH BIG RED PATCH STITCHED ONTO IT AND KNEW THAT I WAS FULL OF SHIT INSTANTLY, THAT I WAS NOT TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY AS A CUSTOMER. BUT IT SEEMED THAT THEY WERE STILL WILLING TO HOOK ME UP, AND I TRUSTED THEM BECAUSE THE GUYS WHO WORKE D THERE WERE ALL JOCKS LIKE I AM, AND IF YOUIRE A NERD THEN THATS JUST SOMETHING YOULL NEVER UNDERSTAND. THEY BLINDFOLDED ME AND DROVE ME SOMEPLACE FOR 20 MINUTES THEN TOLD ME TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE CAR. THEY COAXED ME DEEP INTO A WOODED AREA BY JABBING ME WITH A SPIKE EVEN THOUGH I WAS FINE TO JUST KEEP WALKING WITHOUT THE SPIKE. THEY TOOK OFF MY BLINDFOLD AND I SAW THE WORST CAR I COULD HAVE POSSIBLY IMAGINED., IT WAS ALL FUCKED UP, THERE WERE NO WINDOWS, IT SMELLED LIKE POISON, AND IT WAS COVERED IN PICTURES OF MUTILATED FETUSES BECAUSE IT WAS ONCE USED AT ABORTION PROTESTS OR SOMETHING. BUT OTHER THAN ALL OF THAT IT WAS PRETTY GOOD. THE DEALERS MADE ME SIGN SOME PAPERS AND CUT OFF ONE OF MY EARS AND I WAS GOOD TO GO. I THRUSTED MY FEET THROUGH THE FLOOR OF THE VEHICLE AND STARTED HER UP BY RUNNING MY LEGS LIKE FRED FLINTSTONE. IT WAS INSTANTLY CLEAR TO ME THAT I HAD BEEN FOOLED INTO PURCHASING A FUCKING CAVE MAN `S CAR BUT THAT WAS NOT ABOUT TO STOP ME FROM GETTING TO MY VARIOUS DESTINATIONS IN THE DAY TO DAY. THE CAR ALSO PLAYED SOME HORRIBLE MEXICANO MUSIC THAT I NEVER FIGURED OUT HOW TO TURN OFF BECAUSE IT USED TO BE A TACO TRUCK BEFORE IT WAS USED TO TORMENT ABORTION ENJOYERS, WHICH EXPLAINED THE BIG VATS OF BOILING HOT OIL SPILLING ALL OVER THE PLACE AS I DROVE AROUND. I WAS ONLY ON THE ROAD FOR 10 SECONDS BEFORE GETTING HOLLERED AT. A VERY SMALL MAN WEARING NOTHING BUT DENIM OVERALLS WAS TRYING TO GET MY ATTENTION. YOUR CAR SUCKS AND IM GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS UNTIL YOU GET A BETTER ONE. WEL;L, NOW I GOTTA PULL OVER INTO THIS BOBS DISCOUNT FURNITURE PARKING LOT AND GET MY ASS KICKED BY THIS GUY, I GUESS. JUST THEN, IT OCCURRED TO ME THAT I HAD PLANNED A ROMANTIC ARRANGEMENT IN THAT VERY SAME PARKING LOT, AT THE EXACT SAME TIME OF THE ASS KICKING. NOW, I KNOW THIS SOUNDS LIKE ONE OF THOSE FUN, CLASSIC PREMISES, LIKE A WACKY SITUATION YOU D SEE ON A SITCOM, OR SOME HAREBRAINED PG 13 COMEDY MOVIE. BUT THE ACTUAL EVENTS WERE VERY SAD. I TOLD THE MAN TO HURRY UP AND KICK MY ASS SO I COULD LOSE THE FIGHT AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE AND GET TO MY DATE. I PROMISED NOT TO FIGHT BACK, AND HE TOOK THAT OPPORTUNITY TO PUNCH THE WEAKEST PART OF MY HEAD (THE MOUOTH) AS MANY TIMES AS HE COULD UNTIL HE GOT BORED AND LEFT. ALL MY TEETH WERE FUCKED AND I HAD A BIG AMOUNT OF BLOOD COMING OUT OF MY JOWLS. I SAW MY WIFE IN THE PARKING LOT AND SHE ASKED WHAT HAPPENED AND I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP BUT THERE S NO WAY SHE COULD UNDERSTAND THE WORDS I WAS SAYING IN THAT STATE. I SLUMPED UP AGAINST A CURB AND LET HER ATTEMPT TO JACK OFF MY LIMP PENIS WHILE I LAYED THERE LIKE A SACK OF SHIT WITH MY GAPING MAW OOZING ALL OVER. THE NEXT DAY I EJECTED THAT DAMN CAR INTO A RESERVOIR”

dril, The Get Rich and Become God Method

[annaraejackson]

You Have Something In Your Teeth

Pairing: Connor Stoll x gn!Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of battle, injury, blood, embarrassment

Words: 2,400

Summery: Connor is crushing on Y/N and saved them during the Battle of Manhattan, and Y/N goes to find Connor when they get back to camp to say thank you but it goes wrong for Connor

It was the Battle of Manhattan, and all of Camp Half-Blood was fighting to the best of their abilities. You stood alongside your peers, the friends you have come to know over the past few years, fighting bravely against the hordes of monsters that stood in front of you. Sleeping mortals littered the area around you, even though you and your friends had done your best to move most of them to safety. There had just been too many mortals in the city of Manhattan for that to be done.

You fought, holding your weapon tightly in your hands, stopping for a moment to catch your breath. Your hair stuck to your forehead underneath your helmet, breathing heavily. Sweat dripped down your face, your back soaked. You desperately wanted to sit down, just to breathe for a moment until you gathered even a third of your strength back to rejoin the fight. You noticed a group of telekhines making their way down a side alley that nobody had been covering, a large oversight in your opinion, and you took off running for them. You knew that if they made it through the alley they would be able to make their way to the Empire State Building, and even more importantly, Olympus.

“Hey! Flipper! Over here!” You shout, grabbing a stray shoe that was in the alleyway and throwing it, managing to hit one of the telekhines in the back of the head with and holding your sword in hand, glaring down at the seal-like monsters. “And where do you think you’re going?!” You sneer, standing tall through your exhaustion.

The monsters turned and glared at you, all of them baring their ugly teeth as growls sounded from their chests. “We are going to take over Olympus-” the middle telekhine said, “-and we are going to pave the way for Kronos to destroy the Olympians and take his rightful spot on the throne!”

The telekhines charged at you, and you instinctively raised your shield and charged back at them, holding your shield out to block their initial attack before swinging your sword around, lunging at the telekhine on the right, but making sure to keep an eye on the other two seal monsters. You had faced much worse than them during your time at camp, but you knew these particular monsters could be slippery.

If you somehow managed to let even one of them get away and to Olympus, that could potentially spell disaster for your injured friends that were being kept at the home of the gods.

You focused intently on your mission, your body begging for rest but your mind fighting through it. There was no way in Hades you were going to just give in now—not when your camp needed you most. Soon, the three telekhines that had been in front of you were just a gold dust on the ground of the alleyway, your breath heavy as you gripped your sword and shield in hand.

The battle behind you continued to wage on, and as you began to turn around you felt an intense dull pain in your side, and for a moment you thought you had gotten punched. You looked down, seeing a gaping wound in your side which spilled out blood, your nerves finally catching up to you as you felt the sharp pain. Within seconds, you let out a scream as you looked up with wide eyes, seeing a fourth telekhine that had come up behind you, one that you hadn’t even known had been following.

“Nothing can stop us.” The telekhine sneered at you, it’s teeth bared as it watched your every move. You placed one of your hands up against the nearby dumpster in an attempt to steady your already weak body while the other gripped your side, a sad attempt to hold back the blood loss, your knees giving out and causing you to collapse. You looked up at the nearly 7-foot-tall creature, which held it’s sword—glistening red with your blood—high above you, ready to strike down its final blow.

“Wanna bet?” A voice behind the telekhine said, and then suddenly a point showed through the creature's neck, it’s ugly eyes wide in surprise before it burst into dust, revealing Connor Stoll behind it, his chest heaving as he gulped in large breaths of air.

He wasn’t wearing a helmet, so his curly hair hung in his eyes and was sticking to his face and neck due to how much he was sweating, his arms glistening as he gripped his sword double-handed and his feet spread apart ever so slightly to help aid him in his balance. Normally, you never saw Connor without a grin on his face, laughing at some joke or pulling some prank, but today he looked almost terrifying. His lips pressed into a hard line, his face showing no emotion, and his eyes showing nothing but a sheer determination.

In a sick way, he reminded you of his brother, Luke. And you were suddenly very thankful that he was on your side.

As Connor studied you, his expression softened and he placed his sword back in the sheath, taking a few large steps over to you before he knelt down. “How badly are you hurt?” You didn’t say a word, knowing that if you did, you likely wouldn’t even make sense, moving your hand so he could see the wound. The edges of your vision began to blur, and you fell forward.

Connor managed to catch you, holding you in his arms. “Hey- Hey it’s okay! Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine.” Connor looked up and around, trying to think of what to do before he suddenly got an idea. “I’ll be right back- please don’t die while I’m gone.” He said, gently laying you down before he disappeared.

Wow, you thought, he truly has a way with people.

You managed to follow his request and not die, but you did lose consciousness.

You woke up some time later on Olympus, and spoke with Will Solace about what had happened. He explained to you that Connor Stoll had brought you to Olympus himself, but how he hadn’t been able to stay for very long since his troops needed his help. You had wanted to go find him and help in the battle more, but Will wasn’t sure you were healed up enough to rejoin the fight.

However, luckily it seemed like you weren’t needed in the fight after all. The war was won, and soon all the demigods were taken home, the most injured first, and then as many as possible. The rest of the day went by in a blur, although you scanned all the demigods you saw to see if you could track down Connor, however it seems like you just didn’t have the luck.

Once you were allowed to get up and leave the infirmary, you decided to start on your mission to find Connor to talk to him, going up to anyone you could find to ask if they knew where he was. One person said they had seen him at the Big House, but you didn’t see him there. Another said the camp store- again, out of luck. Finally, you just decided to check out his cabin to see if he was there.

You went up to the large building and knocked on the door, and you heard Connor inside talking with someone, likely Travis. “Connor?” You called, and suddenly the room went quiet. You heard what sounded like muffled arguing, and then the door swung open.

“Hey, Y/N! What do I owe the pleasure?” Connor asked, leaning against the doorframe as he looked at you, his hair disheveled so you figured he hadn’t been in the cabin for too long before you showed up.

“Hey, Connor. I just wanted to stop by and tell you thanks for saving me back there… if it wasn’t for you I don’t think I would have made it.” You said sincerely, kicking your foot back and forth as you looked at him, about to continue when you noticed his mouth was turning… black? You glanced behind Connor’s shoulder and saw Travis who looked to be biting back a laugh, rubbing his face.

“Oh you don’t have to thank me- if it wasn’t for Cecil then Will wouldn’t have been able to meet us halfway to give you ambrosia and nectar, which was what saved you for us to get you to Olympus and really patched up.” Connor said, rubbing the back of his neck as he shifted side to side awkwardly, but you still couldn’t help but glance down at his mouth which was, gradually, turning a darker shade of black.

“But I do have to thank you, that telekhine would have killed me if it wasn’t for you and your quick action… I really owe you one.” You said, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. Dear gods, you had wanted to give this guy a heartfelt thank you but now you were having to force yourself not to laugh. Be serious, Y/N.

Connor’s face turned a shade of pink and he looked down at the ground between his feet, in embarrassment. “Well, I’m just glad I could help you in time. I had seen you head towards the alley and thought you could use some backup, especially when I saw the telekhine stab you…” Connor’s voice trailed off as he thought back to that day, and you bit your lip.

Neither of you spoke for a brief moment, and you figured you should get out of there before you burst out laughing from seeing how black his mouth was again. “I should go, I gotta help with some after war stuff… I’ll see you around.” You said, giving Connor a smile before you began to turn around, but then you thought that maybe you should tell him about what was going on, so you turned again to face him. “Hey, Connor?”

Connor perked up a bit, looking hopeful. “Yeah?”

You paused, then chuckled. “You have something in your teeth.” His face fell, and Travis started laughing as you smiled at him, waving before turning to head off and do what you needed to do.

CONNOR’S POV

~~A Few Minutes Earlier~~

Travis and I had just gotten back from going to the Big House to check out the attic, examining our loot before we went to put it away. “So, what are we going to do now?” I asked him, laying back on my bunk and closing my eyes, wanting to rest after the past few days stress, making a face when I felt something hit my face so I opened my eyes and looked at him.

“We are going to try to raid some of the other cabins. Right now would be the best time to-”

At the front of the cabin, there was a knock on the door, so we both immediately stopped talking, hoping that whoever was at the door hadn’t heard what we were talking about. “Connor?” It was Y/N, and immediately I sat up and began to panic.

What did they want? They don’t sound upset. Then suddenly I realized something: my breath probably stank. I had been so busy these past few days rushing around trying to make sure everyone around me was safe and taken care of that I hadn’t had the time to brush my teeth since at least a couple days before. Yeah yeah, gross, but when you’re in a war you kind of just do what you have to do. “Dude, give me some gum.”

“What?”

“I know you keep gum on you, give me some gum.” I said, reaching over and patting his pockets, trying to find which pocket he kept his gum in. Travis had a weird fixation on gum, so he almost always had some on him and when I needed some I usually just took from him.

“Get your own!” Travis said, trying to shove my hands away, although it was too late, I had already grabbed the box and pulled out a piece. “Connor seriously I don’t think-” I popped the stick of gum in my mouth, and Travis let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine, okay.”

I took a moment to chew the gum, then I went over to the door and opened it. The interaction was pretty short, and honestly it touched me. I had been worried about them ever since I found them in that alleyway, and I was glad that they came over to find me. I was actually thinking of calling out to them to ask if they wanted to see a movie with me sometime or something when…

“You have something in your teeth.” My heart absolutely dropped. Did I have some food or something in my teeth? Travis started laughing from behind me, and Y/N turned around and headed off, so I immediately turned and bolted over to one of my sister's bunks, digging around in it to find her mirror that she used for when she did make up. Once I found the mirror and held it up, I screamed.

My entire mouth was black. Oh. My. Holy. Hermes’. Headphones. My lips were stained a dark grey, not quite black but almost there, and my teeth were black as was the entire inside of my mouth.

I spun around, glaring at Travis who was holding his stomach, doubled over from laughter. “I told-” He wheezed, “I told you to stop taking-” he wheezed again, nearly falling over this time.

“It’s. Not. Funny.” I huffed, going to spit the chewed up gum in the trash can, the wad of gum pitch black as well as the spit that came with it. “That is so embarrassing, oh my gods. I was gonna ask them out, Travis!” I said, grabbing one of the pillows off the ground and throwing it at him, but he caught it easily.

That only seemed to renew the sense of hilarity my brother was feeling, because he started laughing all over again. “Maybe this will teach you to stop taking my gum!” He laughed, throwing the pillow back at me before he left, and I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste, following him out and going to the bathhouses to brush my teeth.