#but they are hot garbage most of the time haha

[magiturge]

okay.. go my sheriff/hank ( individual and pairing ) headcanons / thoughts this is going to be really long, careful when you open it.

each dash is its own thing. for hank ( he / they / it / she is reserved. ) :

- hank is G01 / generation 1 grunt, but a particularly strange one in the sense that they are not a grunt. hank is a script. i headcanon hank as being the cannoneer / cannoneer script in the original marshmallow madness and how they are shown in the magiturge arena mode ending. i am on purpose ignoring that he was mentioned to be a G02 by swain.. hank is a script and as such behaves differently than everybody else because they were never intended to be a person or an entity. hank as the cannoneer script was intended to just be that, a placeholder with a face in the very early stages of nevada's creation and the nowhere. i started to lean into this headcanon a lot more when i saw a clip of krinkels answering a question regarding why the maker scribbles out hank in the cave drawings, with him saying "because he's a strange one. he's a very strange one. not really a.. not really a one with the identity as the maker understands it." ..i just think it'd be funny if hank was never meant to have an identity in the first place and was a function first before being a person. it's why hank is so down the straight and narrow about getting the job done, you gave him something to do and he will do it. i like to describe hank as being an extension of the machine itself as a script.

- hank's height, width and depth changes subtly to drastically with each time he dies and comes back. i like to keep his base height at 6'2" but if you were to linger around them for long enough, you might notice every so often that he seems a bit shorter than usual or a bit taller, or he has a bit more or less muscle somewhere. it's just a result of supply of material to sew him back together.

- hank harbors no sense of physical attraction to anybody in the sense of finding anyone 'hot', 'cute', 'pretty', 'sexy', etc. they see absolutely nobody as attractive in that sense and the most you will ever see in terms of complimenting appearances is with how much 'cool factor' there is to something.

- hank sees red. for them there is not really a black and white, a good vs evil, a grey area. everything is red in that everything and anyone can be a tool. it's not really a 'sees red and gets angry / violent' thing. everybody looks the same to it on a moral / alliance / loyalty point. it has no issue turning on you if you get in the way or alligning with you if you can work to the same goal it has.

- for awhile, hank behaved very npc like or average grunt like before the whole punching the boombox guy. a whole lot of no particularly violent activity until that incident and it being like the switch flip of 'oh wait. i dont really know why but i think ive done this kinda killing people thing before ( marshmallow madness ) but im really really enjoying it,' like it might be a natural thing hank knows to do. - almost all of hank's outfit is a diy project it works on when it is bored, parts are stolen during missions ( homes / clothing stores ) or straight from the garbage. in a sense that's how hank is gradually building an identity for themself.

∙ hank has no issue with dying itself, but it's a matter of what circumstance and how they die that will determine if that irritates it enough to come back. ( i.e some stupid rug pulling bullshit or getting a kill stolen by dying to something stupid. )

- much of hank's skin is discolored or outright not the same shade or tone as their original skin since they're a hankenstein of various people's body's now ( haha ). they're also missing some certain parts that don't particularly bother them. its more like accessory and so long as they have the necessary parts that won't cause them complications, it frankly doesn't give a shit if something is gone.

for sheriff ( he ) : - go my transgender bear. - sheriff self medicated with alcoholic and as a result, over the years became a functioning alcoholic. this is entirely based on the line of 'pass the whiskey' he has and also the whole.. debacle he's been put in. he smells always vaguely of whiskey as a result of this. he feels a bit braver drunk but y'know.. reality backhands him in the face again and he focuses.

- sheriff and jeb are not friends. at best they are aquaintances, allies by circumstance not by goal. sheriff is afraid of jeb and worries about pissing him off as it might mean he loses an ally and potentially gains an enemy if he doesn't comply with his orders ( i.e assisting jeb in plans like lending his men to deal with hank ). at this point in time, jeb seems wildly unstable and too zeroed in on his savior bullshit for sheriff to feel comfortable speaking up at all about not wanting to deal with this stuff anymore. sheriff was a normal guy first that had no intention of getting involved with this stuff in the first place until jeb pulled him into it with fear as a motivation. jeb isn't a friend, just a 'friendly-face'. - sheriff has gotten better at hiding his fear / non-fighter nature at least with the way he talks. the fear and the desire to live is always there but the way he presents himself feeds into how he is perceived. at the end of everything, sheriff is always running away from the site of conflict if he's in an unsafe spot or at a disadvantage. covering up his fear makes him appear very cocky and arrogant - sheriff's hair is long as well as his beard, it is like a mane. it's his pride and he tries his best to keep it well maintained but he's.. too stressed to keep it up all the time. there are some curly and wiggly looking hairs ( i don't know the right term for it ) sticking out, and some parts tangled and thick. he feels weird if he were to ask anyone of his men to brush it out. - sheriff is a lot better at fighting and defending himself at this current point in time ( mpn2 and ahead ) but he is held back by the fact he is worried about dying or getting injured in general. he's afraid of taking a risk and would much rather use traps and a whole lot of walls in the way. - sheriff likes to hum, whistle and sing quietly to soothe his nerves. unfortunately, given his desire to uphold a strong image, he overthinks that being heard humming or singing, even quietly, around any of the MERC units will have him perceived as too soft or an oddity. for this reason, he is usually found whistling little bits when he's actually roaming the MERC buildings and his humming and quiet singing is for when he's patrolling the industrial sector walls on his own. - he carries a level of care for the MERC under his leadership but has a confused relationship with his individuality and being a part of a group. he was a guy first and foremost and because of the responsibility that was put onto him by jeb to protect these people he feels an obligation to forego his feelings and emotional needs. as a result he doesn't really.. interact with them on a super friendly level as much as he would say, a stranger with a friendly chat. he sees them as just people to be protected, a group and not individuals. he can separate himself from them but he also cant. - the nutrient slop in a can he's been eating for so many years has dulled his sense of taste a bit. if you gave him something that tasted real, even as greasy as a goddamn burger his face would light up. hot food does things to your mind and you dont realize it until you've had it again. - sheriff and the industrial sector represent each other. with large walls and many defenses to protect himself but with unfortunate cracks and weak points created over time. there can be so many barriers but many pathways, many vents for someone to crawl through and find the weak point.

ok. go my old man yaori.

their entire relationship is a push and pull. - their relationship (?) is a secret for as much as they are capable of keeping it a secret. sheriff desperately wants to keep it a secret because he fears that his men ( MERC ) finding out could potentially get him exiled or worse killed for being a 'traitor'. he also doesn't want to lose that sense of safety and togetherness, a stable foundation for him to stand and walk on. it's why he kicks himself in the head about the whole thing because he knows he shouldn't be getting involved like this. - as i mentioned before, hank feels no physical attraction to anybody and that applies to sheriff as well. it feels nothing in terms of 'wow he's cute' or 'he's hot'. the times that it can be mistaken that hank finds something about sheriff that is cute in terms of physical appearance is for different reasons. for example.. sheriff blushing and hank responding positively to that is not because hank finds that image to be cute but because he understands that image to be a positive thing. if : sheriff is blushing, then : i did something good, since i understand blushing as something that happens when someone is flattered. it elicits a positive reaction from hank because he understands it as something good and beneficial, rather than it being found personally cute or pretty. - hank thinks that sheriff did have a sort of glow up and that he looks 'cooler' now ( i.e you don't look like a wimp anymore ) however he thinks that the absolute layering of clothes, body armor and ammo looks tacky as hell. he gets why sheriff is wearing all that but it could have better days. they do find the leather chaps sheriff wears to be the one thing that kind of look cool, so it has taken the liberty of messing with them a bit, with permission, to make them look a bit cooler. it likes leather. on the topic of what sheriff wears, hank also doesn't like what he's wearing because it makes sheriff obnoxiously annoying to fight in close combat. it'll swing at sheriff and feel the padding and get a bit irritated because he really is just layered in protection, no satisfaction that it normally gets from feeling the injury caused in a fight. ..hank knows that it'd be better to leave not too many injuries, but that doesn't stop it from being irritated when they trade punches and it can feel a bruise on the highway while sheriff likely hasn't gotten something so serious. it's the kind of bullshit it doesn't like. hank wears body armor and padding too but not nearly as much. - they're both at around level terms of fighting capability, it is their personalities and style that make the difference. hank does not like sheriff's style of fighting in the presence of other people watching whatsoever as he thinks it's cowardly and unengaging. he's always at a distance, rapid fire, itchy finger. it's like dealing with a turret with self awareness and a mouth to run insults at you. the bullshit bullshiiiit he doesnt like. it's why hank prefers the little spats they get in. - hank's biggest upside in their situationship is how direct and to the point they are, it really hates the dancing around the topic sheriff does. if sheriff is being particularly dodgy about something or acting differently or avoidant, hank asks directly what is going on. it figured out relatively fast that sheriff's cowardly avoidant nature applies to just about anything and it has to adapt to that. sheriff's biggest downside is his reluctance to vocalize his needs as he doesn't entirely perceive hank as a person yet, still seeing him partially as the man in the posters, meaning he doesn't believe hank is capable of accommodating, being affectionate, or being considerate of his needs.

- sheriff hates vocalizing or articulating anything that seems like proof to the world or himself of his affections towards hank. something simple as wanting to have an embrace, he does not want to say it. it's acknowledgement of his affections, and he doesn't want to acknowledge it. he would rather outright go for the hug or for hank to initiate it first. on the same note, neither of them say i love you to each other. hank doesn't particularly care.. it just sees it as another expression of affection and it doesn't find words to be as fun as actions. sheriff doesn't say it for the reasons above and it feels way too intimate for him anyway. it's like saying 'yes, hank j wimbleton most wanted person in nevada who has killed many many and killed me once as well, i lovey wovey you'. he feels stupid saying it. it's 3 words but he hears a lot more. - sheriff still maintains a grudge for having been killed by hank many years ago, it's sort of shallow now though. he already got even with hank at the start of this snowballing situation, as they had a spat and he shot them dead. - hank is the grounded one in the situationship, more mentally stable and.. decisively stable than sheriff. he often has to be very blunt so sheriff stops rocking around, thinking too hard about something. - they don't talk to each other that often but on the chances they do, they do have some.. detailed conversations on things. it can range from something mundane as guns, what attachments they like on theirs to .. more delicate topics.

- hank often returns to sq hq smelling faintly of whiskey and sheriff often returns to MERC warehouses smelling vaguely of rotting bodies and blood. they both have smelled each other and they both think they both smell like shit. when possible, sheriff will continuously nudge that hank go and bathe, though that means sheriff has to as well. - hank thinks sheriff is a bit.. like crazy? or at least not making the smartest decisions sometimes. he wonders why sheriff maintains really long hair even though he works around machinery a lot. hank thinks that he's beign a bit ridiculous for being such a worry wart and not doing anything about the glaring issue in his wardrobe. it has vocalized this issue and are usually met with sheriff giving him a bit of a dirty look. at the least, hank does like to touch his hair. sheriff doesn't particularly care that much about hank touching his hair, just that he doesn't cut it. it likes to feel the texture and pick out tangles, it gives hank something to do in a mundane slow time. - sheriff has one of hank's black bandanas. it let him keep it when sheriff as gotten a bit of a nasty slash during a spat they had together, hank had tied it around the wound and he let sheriff keep it. sheriff now uses it as part of his outfit from time to time. it alternates usually from 3 places : a hair tie for a low ponytail, tied around his arm, or most unseen, in his right back pants pocket. aaha. hheh. heh. ok i'm tired, there's more but big man wants to eat his damn ass food.. idk uh, my writing somewhat properly is escaping me

[silverzoomies]

Monster Mash

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: shameless smut, smut, kissing, porn with plot, halloween, zombies, biting, undead, undead!reader, gender neutral reader, zombie kink

word count: 11,996

a/n: first of three peter-centric halloween fics!! hopefully i'll get them all posted before the month ends!! timeline here is extremely fuzzy, and might not fall in line with canon. it's kind of super ambiguous.

the usual apologies: clunky writing, potentially ooc peter/other characters, inconsistencies, ending's super meh, etc etc etc. idk if peter would realistically be down to bang a cute, zombified reader. but hey, it's fiction. why the heck not!

tag list (i remembered this time!!): @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @icannot3 @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @luttic @billielourdslays

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October. Just a week before Halloween.

Peter didn’t celebrate the holiday too often these days. Not like he used to. Ever since he took up teaching at the X-mansion, he only participated in a handful of Halloween activities. The staple being - playing escort for mutant kiddos on trick-or-treating ventures. An activity he enjoyed a lot, since the kiddos referred to “Mr. Maximoff” as “the school's most awesome trick-or-treat buddy.” Which had nothing to do with Peter swiping a little extra candy - for the kids, of course - when the other teachers weren’t looking. Swear on his life.

Another Halloween festivity he loved? The school's annual, X-family Halloween party. The team generally left Peter in charge of decorations, considering it took him no time at all to set them up. Professor Chuck himself - legendary baldy - always played host at those parties. As per tradition - after the party died down - Peter cozied up in the living room with the team. They’d gather together to watch everyone’s favorite horror flicks on VHS.

He really couldn’t wait for this year’s festivities. Peter looked forward to those after-party, horror movie marathons every year. Movie nights with the team? Pretty freakin’ awesome. If only for two reasons: The abundance of sugary garbage to snack on. And the way Ororo loooooooved snuggling up with him on the couch. Being so hot natured helped. Living life in the fast lane - operating like a human furnace - sure had its perks sometimes. ‘Ro’s cuddling made an excellent distraction from Peter’s unbridled loneliness. Haha...

C-...Consider that a topic for another day. Moving on.

On horror movie night, Peter inevitably saw the jumpscares coming leagues before anyone else. It never failed. He’d call them seconds ahead of time. With ‘Ro lying at his side, and his arm wrapped around her waist. Peter would exclaim, “Jumpscare!”, breaking the tension heavy silence amongst the group. Spoiling whatever movie played. Everyone hated it, of course. Kurt growled at him. Animalistic, but nowhere near intimidating. Jubilee pelted Peter with popcorn.

Peter just couldn’t help himself. Those scares were so predictable and boring sometimes. Sure, he liked horror movies enough. With all the gnarly gore and twisted kills. But they never freaked him out, since he didn’t spook easily. His incomprehensible reaction time made terror a tough game.

All that being said...

Even with his totally outrageous bravery streak, Peter - guilty as charged - sure had his candy-ass moments.

This current mission proved, without a doubt, one of the spookiest situations he’d ever landed himself in. He could feel it in the air tonight. And not in the groovy, Phil Collins way either. An ominous sense of uneasiness crawled across his skin. Eerie vibes sent chills creeping up his spine like spiders through a web. Peter wished he could fast forward to Halloween night on the couch with ‘Ro. Heck, he'd even take decorating duty over this any day of the week. At least he could go all out, and have his own fun with it.

For an October’s night, the weather seemed uncannily coincidental. Drops of rain showered from a mass of black clouds. A sharp crack of lightning struck the ground, with a roar of thunder following in succession. It rattled the very foundation of the abandoned lab Peter found himself exploring. As part of a last minute, late night mission.

Below his feet, tiled floors laid in disrepair. Dirtying the mismatched laces of his untied sneakers. Peter snuck his way through murky hallways, his heightened senses buzzing on edge. Fight or flight kicked into high gear, making him all the more sensitive to any outside stimuli. Another echoing roar rumbled through the building, threatening to topple its cracking walls. Peter worried the ceiling might cave in at any moment.

A terrifying thought. But it happened to be the exact reason Hank chose Peter for this mission to begin with. Should shit hit the fan, Peter could skedaddle at the speed of light unscathed. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Unlike his other team members, who might risk being flattened like a pancake. Under the weight of, not one, but two floors above.

…Speaking of pancakes. Peter should definitely drop by a mom ‘n pop diner before heading back to base. He could really go for a fresh stack of late night hotcakes right about now. Warm and soft. With chocolate chips melting on the inside. Caked in sticky syrup and slathered with butter. Oooooh! And a little bacon on the side. Not too crispy, not too flop-

His mouth watered, and Peter blinked. Wiping his jacket sleeve across his lips, he redirected his attention to the task at hand. Focus, Quickie. He had a job to do, and he didn’t wanna be stuck doing said job all night.

The lab sat nestled off the coast of some island with a foreign name. Super hard to pronounce. Peter couldn’t remember it off the top of his head. Prior to this assignment, he’d never even heard of the place. But apparently, neither had anyone else. Hank sent Peter in search of what he dubbed leads on a mystery project. Something to do with scientific documents.

If he found any, he’d read their info over to Scott. Who would then relay that same intel back to Hank. Like an insanely boring game of telephone. Why Peter couldn’t speak to Hank directly was anybody’s guess. Too busy with his super secret project thingy-majig, possibly?

Hanging from Peter’s stereo belt alongside his old Walkman, a walkie screeched with a shrill chirp. A shock of alarm shot straight through Peter’s veins, making him jump. Scott’s voice crackled from the speakers.

“Any updates, Pete?” Scott asked, “Tell me anything you got. Even if it seems boring. Just hit me with it. It’s gotta be better than waiting around here in the lab, doing nothing.”

Peter held a compact flashlight in one hand, searching the lab’s pitch black halls. Most of the rooms he passed looked desolate. Barren and dusty. Save for the odd desk or empty cabinet. Peter wondered if they’d all been ransacked when the place closed down. The ceiling leaked rain from the floors above, dripping onto Peter’s bomber jacket. At the edge of his vision, he caught a rat scurrying by. But otherwise, not much else.

Pulling the walkie from his belt, he brought it up to his lips, “Uh. It’s dark and kinda spooky here. Saw a rat. Storm’s not gettin’ any better. It keeps shakin’ the whole place.” Peter shook his head, “If it doesn’t let up, I’m gonna have to split. Don’t wanna wait around to see what happens next, y’know? Over."

On the other end of the line, Scott breathed an annoyed sigh. Even through low-quality speaker fuzz, Peter could tell the sigh lacked any real spite.

“Peter. We’ve been over this. We aren’t using decades old, two-way radio communication. You really don’t have to say over. ”

Peter drummed his free hand on an empty desk. Following the beat of Sweet Poison by Naked Eyes, as it played from the only earbud he wore. He wanted to keep one ear open, just to hear Scott clearly. And mayhaps because he felt the teensy weensiest bit paranoid by his lonesome in the lab.

“Copy that. Over.” He grinned to himself.

The further Peter explored the lab’s halls, thick layers of mucky green seemed to take over. If he had to guess, he assumed Hank didn’t consider masses of moss “key intel.” Every few feet Peter stepped, he tore his way through another wall of cobwebs. Lots and lots of creepy cobwebs. Reduced to undying boredom, Peter took to karate chopping them. Might as well have fun in the face of ennui.

Half second flickers of lightning cast the lab in gleaming flashes. Bringing Peter’s attention to more rooms he missed. He wandered through some old offices. Or what he thought were offices, anyway. The trashed state of the rooms made it hard to tell. Nothing within them had withstood the test of time. Peter even tried poking around with some clunky computers. No luck. Dead as doornails.

“Found some computers. C64’s, I think. Haven’t seen one ‘a these bad boys since forever ago. But they’re totally busted.” Peter reported into the walkie, banging a fist onto one of the computers, “Yep. Busted. Over.”

Before leaving the room, Peter fucked around. Knocking over a computer monitor for no reason at all. He snatched a few, grubby pens from a lone desk. As well as a cracked coffee mug that read “I try to tell chemistry jokes, but there’s no reaction.” Just for the heck of it. Why not swipe some keepsakes, eh?

After what felt like a geological age of scouring, Peter eventually stumbled upon more filing cabinets. Stuffed to the brim with research documents and science-y records. Sighing, he pulled each drawer open one by one. Peter read the dusty files, sharing intel with Scott over the walkie. For every document Scott dismissed, Peter tossed them carelessly aside over his shoulder.

Antsy to wrap the mission up, grab some pancakes, and race home for a game of GoldenEye; Peter rushed through the last few folders. In hopes of finding whatever specific file Hank needed. But upon the last one, Scott broke some totally bogus news.

“Sorry about this.” Scott sighed, “Those files? Yeah. Hank says they’re all duds. No dice. You think it’s safe to keep looking? You might have to check the second floor.” He mentioned, to Peter’s dismay.

Peter bumped his head into the filing cabinet, groaning aloud. With a kick of his foot, he closed the last drawer and trudged onward. Oh well. The speedster could totally manage. At least he brought mix-tapes to keep his mind occupied. Along with extra tapes stashed in his belt pockets for good measure. Without music, he’d be so outrageously miserable on a mission like this.

Shining the dinky flashlight, he scanned the first floor area one more time. Just to be sure. The flashlight’s glow passed a set of double doors, leading to-

Wait. Back it up a sec. Double doors? Quietly singing New Order’s Blue Monday to himself, Peter moonwalked backwards to observe the doors again. Knitting his brows, he blinked. Stumped.

“Yo. Scotty. Got another room on the first floor. Gonna check it out real quick. Over.” Peter reported, clicking the walkie into place on his belt.

Another echo of thunder rattled through the lab, shaking the floors above. Lightning illuminated the halls in temporary flickers of white. Peter stared at the large set of doors, totally bamboozled. He couldn’t comprehend how he missed them before. When he knew for a fact he checked every nook and cranny. Inching closer, he eyed a sign pasted on one of the doors. In a rough scratch of permanent marker, the sign read:

Reanimation experiments in progress. Do not disturb!!

Reanimation? What, like…of the dead? Pfffbt. No way! Could this spooky place get any spookier? Peter swallowed an uncomfortable wedge in his throat. Shaking off any chills threatening to overtake him, he shined his flashlight through one of the door’s windows. Peter scanned the area for anything useful.

Inside, he clocked an operating table. Close to that, a lone cart cluttered with rusty, surgical tools. Cracked computer screens lined one of the walls, more advanced than they should’ve been. At least for the era they originated. Tangled cables ran along the floor, leading to something in the shadows. Peter couldn’t make it out.

He arched a brow, finally locking his sights on - Aha! Jackpot! More filing cabinets. Hopefully, they held his ticket out of this creepy place. Fingers crossed. Peter burst into the room in a flash, kicking up dust in his wake. Tearing through another wall of cobwebs, he surveyed the area again. Making a mental note of every cabinet he could see. Enough to keep him busy for the next hour, he guessed. Peter slumped his shoulders, huffing an aggravated groan.

Talking to Scott through the entire process made it more bearable. Being so no nonsense and straight forward, Scott had no problem retaining the info Peter shared from every file. Which saved the speedster any hassle of repeating himself, or having to explain things he didn’t understand. Science? Not really Peter's area of expertise. He thought himself more of a tech, or music guy.

Luckily enough, Peter found whatever documents Hank sent him after. A deep dive into every folder, in every drawer, in about a dozen different cabinets were all it took. Had Peter aged another thirty years? He sure as hell felt like it. No sweat! Mission accomplished. Time to bid the old lab goodbye.

Peter flew through the rest of the cabinets in less than a second’s time. Triple checking for any intel Hank might find compelling. He skimmed some records documenting the “reanimation of dead tissue.” Hm. Actually, blue beastie might potentially find that fascinating. “Reanimation” of the dead didn’t exactly sound too commonplace in modern science, did it?

In a folder, Peter discovered a file. Clipped with a photograph of - hellllllllooooo there! Someone…kinda cute. Very cute. Peter whistled, piercing the quiet thrum of distant rain. He read on.

Oh. The cute someone. They died. Tragically perished. Hit by a car back in the 80’s. What a bummer. One of the scientist's brought them to the lab as a test subject. Used for some twisted experiment in reanimation. The kicker? They proved to be the lab’s first and only successful trial run. Of around fifty different, reanimation trials. Yikes. That's...a lotta dead bodies.

These scientists successfully revived the dead? Peter doubted it. Over a decade had passed since then, and no one ever used the technology mentioned in the files. This lab's research couldn’t be as successful as they documented. Or something must've gone wrong, for them to give up and shut down the lab's operation completely.

Yeah. Treating human corpses like science fair projects for school? Super warped. Hank, wacky in his science ventures, totally found macabre shit like that interesting. Shrugging, Peter tucked the manilla folders he gathered under an arm. He grabbed his walkie, and reported to Scott.

“I got somethin’ else Hank might be into. It's totally messed up, he'll love it. But-uh…if that’s all he needed? I’m gonna jet now, ‘kay? I can’t take another minute in this scary ass place. Over and out.”

Before making his leave, Peter glanced around the room one last time. He appeared near the operating table in a picosecond, his brown eyes scanning the cart next to it. Curiously, Peter picked through some rusty, surgical tools.

Upon finding a scalpel in fairly okay condition, he swiped the tool and slipped it inside his back pocket. Whistling to Oingo Boingo's No One Lives Forever - in hindsight, kind of ironic - playing from his Walkman, Peter raised a foot to kick the cart. Watching it roll away into a nearby wall. Hasta la vista.

As Peter steered away from the operating table, a monstrous shadow loomed at the edge of his vision. His heart rampantly pounded in his chest, his senses still high strung. Jumping back with a terrified gasp, Peter climbed halfway onto the operating table. He fumbled for his flashlight, pointing the glow at the massive bundle of darkness. The light shook in Peter’s trembling hand.

But it-...oh. Phew! Nothing to be afraid of. Hah. What the heck was Peter gettin’ riled up for?

Like something straight out of science fiction, Peter’s shadowy monster proved nothing more than a giant pod. He squinted, moving towards it until close enough to observe it more clearly. The tech appeared big enough to hold a person of his size. Or, hell, maybe even someone of Beast’s size. Peter ran a hand along the surface of the pod, gathering a layer of dust on his fingertips. Scowling, he shuddered, wiping the dust on his jeans. “ EUGH! Eck-” Peter exclaimed to no one, “What’s up with this dusty, old thing??” Glass encased the outer layer of the large machine. It might've been see-through, if not for the unsanitary grime blanketing the entire thing. Years upon years of soot build up. Peter tried wiping the dust away with his elbow, to no avail. He couldn’t see inside, even with the aid of his flashlight.

Puzzled, Peter darted around the room in a silver blur, searching for clues. A switch of some kind? A secret code? He tampered with everything from the cracked monitors on the wall, to the colorful cables lining the floor. Peter even tried prying the pod open with a rusty hammer he found. Still, it refused to budge. Even with the power of speedster strength. Was it made of adamantium or something?

Sighing, defeated, Peter tossed the hammer away. It crashed into one of the screens hanging against the wall. Shattering the crystal display upon impact. Whoops. Oh well. How much more damage could be done to the place? Not like anyone would be making renovations anytime soon. Not in the middle of buttfuck nowhere island.

Making an accidental misstep, Peter slipped on his untied shoelaces. His ankle entangled itself in a circle of cables on the floor, and he lost his balance. Tripping, Peter stumbled backwards into some busted machinery, knocking his head. His back collided with the hard, metal surface behind him.

“ Auuugh. Shit.” Peter muttered. He didn’t understand how he could be so goddamn clumsy all the time, given - what the professor called - his mutant gift, “Ow. Dammit.”

He must have triggered a switch when he tripped. Suddenly, a loud hiss seethed through the air like a bus braking to a stop. A slow moving cloud of smoke rose from inside the pod. As it spread, filling the room, the fumes turned radioactive neon in color. It swarmed Peter’s nostrils, overflowing his senses with an earthy scent.

“Uhhh…uh oh.” He mumbled, “Is that supposed to happen?” Acting in haste, Peter scrambled to free his ankle from the cable’s tight grip.

A corpse reanimation research lab.

Nope. Noooope. He’d seen Return of the Living Dead enough times to know - whatever the hell’s happening now? Bad news. Couldn’t be good. Peter suppressed the urge to scream like a frightened child. A buzzing voice chimed from his walkie, startling him further. Dammit all, Scotty! He almost sent Peter into cardiac arrest for a hot second.

“Peter? Hey-uh, are you there? You alright? You didn’t stop somewhere for pancakes again, did you?” Scott crackled through the walkie, but Peter didn’t respond, “Better bring enough back for the whole class.” He joked, sarcastic.

Peter gawked at the sight before him in a mix of horror and confusion. Completely petrified, as Oingo Boingo played through his ear. The neon smoke emitted from the pod began to clear, revealing a body inside. A dead body.

Your dead body, to be specific.

Somehow, Peter recognized you. But that didn’t make any sense at all. He knew for a freakin’ fact he’d never seen or met you a day in his life. Unless… oh. Oh, holy shit. He hurriedly grabbed the extra folder he’d taken and opened it, just to glance between you, and the photo inside. And sure enough… The first and only successful trial run in reanimation.

Oh. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Peter’s eyes blew open wide. His stomach dropped twenty thousand feet through the ground, plummeting to the Earth’s core. Swallowing thickly, he observed your slumbering body from his position on the dirty floor.

Your skin appeared ashier than it naturally should be. Y’know, on account of being dead and all. It more closely resembled a subdued, greenish color. Kinda Frankenstein-esc. Stitches lined each and every one of your limbs. As if some psycho nut job took you apart and sewed you back together again. Judging by the info in your file, they probably did. Embedded into your neck, were two bolts on either side. Also very Frankenstein-esc. You reminded him of a wax dummy on the set of some low-budget, horror flick. It’d be kinda funny, if he didn’t feel seconds away from screaming in horror.

You could be a dummy, if Peter had any luck. Yeah. This mission? Surely just a super elaborate prank set up by the team. Like a haunted house tour, made to scare the silver pants off him. Those sly dogs think they’re so slick, huh? ...R-Right?

Peter took a deep breath, keeping his terrified gaze fixed on you. In his ear, the funky tune came to an end. The lab fell into a deafening silence. Only broken by the faintest pitter patter of rain, and a quiet clamor of thunder now echoing at a distance. Signaling the passing of the storm. One less thing to worry about.

Though, he’d much rather agonize over a building’s foundation crumbling. He could handle a weather-related disaster wayyy better than a zombie coming to life, to - potentially - gorge on his flesh.

Raising his flashlight, he pointed the glow at your lifeless body. Again, Peter breathed a long sigh to ease his panic stricken nerves. An interference of crackling static ripped through the walkie then. Loud, and shrill enough to cut glass. At that very moment, your eyes - once locked in eternal slumber - popped open freakishly wide.

Oh. Oh hellllll no. Fuck that. Fuuuuck that.

Peter’s hunch proved totally right. You weren’t just dead. You were undead.

“ Mmmmmm nope.” Peter mumbled to himself, swiftly shaking his head, “Nuh uh. Nope.”

Shaking with adrenaline, he glanced between your dead-eyed gaze, and his trapped foot. Okay! No problem-o! Not a problem at all. For an X-Man, zombies made an easy foe, right? Peter could totally just-...

Just vamoose! Make a break for it! Right now!

Like, now.

Peter hadn’t run away yet. Why hadn’t he run away? Hellllloooo? Ground control to Quickie! Time to make a quick exit, and head for the hills. Lest he become zombie chow.

Stunned, Peter remained petrified. In an uncannily slow movement, you rose from the pod like Nosferatu out of a coffin. Peter cursed under his breath, willing his terror to take a one way ticket outta there. He needed to come to his senses, and fast. Even as Peter tried to move, his paralyzed state caused him to fumble again. His movements lacked their natural fluidity, and his blood ran cold.

Like a total doofus, in his failed attempt to escape, Peter tangled his foot even deeper through the cables. Sometime in the last thirty seconds or so, he dropped his flashlight. Within the inky darkness, he could barely make out your shape as you moved. You groaned a long, croaky sound. Guttural, like an eldritch abomination.

Another crash of lightning showered your living corpse in a white luster. Peter made direct eye contact with you. A gaze between life and death.

A yell vibrated through his lungs and bounced off the walls of the room, as Peter finally screamed. Your slow moving, zombified body climbed from the pod much like a spider. Stumbling at first, you connected your bare feet with the dirty, tiled floor. Once you found your balance, a cracking sound erupted from your limbs. Your bones clicked and popped audibly into place. Peter scowled, physically cringing.

Another scream tore from the depths of his chest, “SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!” He shouted.

You dragged your feet in a limp, moving towards Peter with a slow gait. Stitched arms reached out for him in an unhurried motion, “ Luhhhhhhhh- ” You choked on a groggy gurgle.

Fuck. Fucking shit fuck. You definitely wanted to feast on his juicy brains and smooth flesh. No denying that. It had been, like, a decade since you last ate anything. And Peter probably looked like one hell of a snack right about now. Not even in a totally kinky way.

“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH! Hold yer horses there, baby! Yer gettin’ a liiiitttle too close fer comfort now! C’mon, huh? Do you really think I’m on the menu? ‘Cuz trust me. If yer gonna eat somebody? I shouldn’t be yer first choice! I really don’t taste all that great!” Peter yelled, throwing a hand out momentarily before returning to the tangled cables. He huffed an uneasy laugh, “SHIT! Yer not listening, are you? Ahaha! Yer gonna eat me. Totally gonna eat me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck-”

Peter tore at the cables wrapped around his foot. Acting as quickly as his petrified state would allow, he pulled the scalpel from his back pocket. But the dull razor’s edge refused to cut through the wires. Dropping the useless tool, he ripped into the cables one more time using all his strength. Only to free himself a millisecond too late. Always late. You lurched forward, making grabby hands. 

Quicksilver vs. an actual, real life zombie. If he made it out alive, that’d make one helluva story.

But-

Wait a damn minute. Hold the freakin’ phone. Why were you…looking at him like that?

The glazed over eyes of a living corpse opened up, all big and doe-like. Gazing at Peter in - no mistaking it - infatuated fondness. Your supple lips parted with a wide smile of pure delight. Like sunshine peeking through hazardous, storm clouds. You leapt forward unexpectedly, squeaking a raspy squeal. Burrowing your face into the warmth of Peter’s chest, you linked your arms around his neck. Holding onto him tight.

“What the-” He whispered, looking down at your messy head of hair.

Uh. Okay. So, that just happened. Weird. Why weren’t you feasting on his flesh? Wasn’t he supposed to be your first meal since zombie hibernation, or something? Didn’t you wanna go chomp chomp chomp, and turn his guts into mush?

Peter realized, looking at you up close, you appeared perfectly clean and preserved. You didn’t reek like a dead body. The earthy scent on your cold skin wasn’t too unpleasant either. It smelled herbal. Floral, even. Your smooth skin lacked any signs of rot. Aside from one or two lesions revealing rib or arm bones. Kinda...freakishly cool. The surface of your skin looked see-through, with veins weaving underneath like intricate wiring.

A little spooky, sure. But not all that scary to look at, surprisingly enough. Not like Peter expected, anyway. As you snuggled closer into Peter’s body, he began to realize how oddly affectionate you were. Very out of character, for a zombie. You squeaked an unintelligible noise, attempting to communicate. But you just couldn’t form the words. Maybe your speech capabilities fizzled out after years and years of unending silence.

Peter creased his brows, lowering his defenses and calming himself down. Another thirty seconds passed. His brains remained intact, and you hadn’t made him your next meal. He pulled the earbud from his ear, hooking them around his neck and pressing pause on the Walkman. Craning your neck back, your glassy eyes met Peter’s own. You grinned so big and joyful, gleaming the innocence of a pure-of-heart, golden retriever. Despite being totally bizarre, Peter found your sweetness...sorta...weirdly cute.

“Uhmmm…hi? Hey. Uh-why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” He laughed, a little uneasy.

Maybe your affection stemmed from something simple. If Peter were locked up in a cramped pod for so many years, he’d be ecstatic if someone finally freed him. You were probably just uber thankful he’d broken you outta that pod thingy. And you showed gratitude through touching, since you couldn’t exactly flurry him with thank yous. He could accept that. Sure. For now.

The walkie hanging from his belt droned a buzz, and Scott’s voice called out. Peter finally reached for it, maneuvering between his body and yours. Your arms stayed around his neck, your body hanging like a stubborn monkey’s from a tree.

“Peter? Do you copy? Peter, are you there, man? Talk to us. Please. Should we send someone over to assist?” Scott asked, his voice itching with alarm. “Yeah! Yeah, nah. Uh-hey, Scotty! Hey, I’m here. I’m oka-...dude, it’s fine. Nothin’ to worry about. Seriously. But…I do kinda have a situation here? Over.” Peter replied.

Scott exhaled a relieved sigh on the other end of the line. In the crackling background of the walkie, Peter heard Jean’s voice. She asked, “Did he say over ?” Followed by a series of hushed chuckles. Peter smirked to himself.

“Oh! Oh my god. Thank goodness, Pete. We were all getting pretty worried about you over here. What’s going on? Are you still at the lab? You said there was a situation. What kind of situation? Did that old place finally cave in?” Scott asked. Many, many questions.

Peter heard even more frantic, muffled conversations in the background. While he couldn’t understand them, he recognized the voices. The entire team had gathered, just to make sure he made it out alive. Awww. How sweet. They were worried about lil ol’ him? If Peter hadn’t had the bejesus scared out of him not even five minutes ago, his heart would’ve melted.

“Heyyyy, guys! Uhhhh…soooo…I might’ve found, like, a zombie? No joke. Like, a real zombie. But it’s not tryna kill me. It’s-” Peter paused, raising a brow. You fluttered your lashes, giving him a coquettish look, “Bro, I think it’s makin’ eyes at me. Legit. Kinda weird, right? Definitely not what I was expecting. But it’s totally fine. I got it all under control now. Over.”

A long silence fell amongst the walkie’s noise. Until Scott finally responded in monotone.

“Did we hear you wrong, or did you just say you found a zombie?” He asked, his tone carrying a hint of disbelief. As if expecting Peter to say - Psych! Fooled ya!

Peter parted his lips to confirm. But the abrupt tickle of a chilly kiss on his neck silenced him. You stood up on your bare toes, giggling sweetly. Across his hot skin, you peppered your chapped lips. Instantly, Peter froze in place again. Shudders rang through his body. He reached for one of your arms, tugging you to try and pull you off him.

“Uhm. Y’know what? It’s no big deal. B-But yeah, it’s a zombie fer sure.” Peter tugged your arm with more insistence, urging you to let go. But you persisted, giggling into the crook of his neck, “Like I said. No worries here. It’s not like I’m in da- haaah okayokayokay-”

Your feather light kisses became soft, kitten licks. Flicking Peter’s flesh with your slimy tongue, you squealed, tickled pink. Peter jolted, shivers sizzling down his spine. He tilted his neck to the side, wincing. Over the walkie, he heard Hank’s gruff voice.

“Peter! It’s Hank-” The blue beast said, as if Peter couldn’t already tell based on his growly tone, “Are you a hundred percent sure the undead creature isn’t dangerous?” He asked, buzzing through a scratch of interference.

Coldness slathered and swirled Peter’s neck in slow circles. Fluttering his eyes closed, he replied, “N-Not dangerous. Ohhhh. Definitely not dangerous. No danger here. All good. Over.” Again, he tried to pull you off.

Your discolored arms tightened their hold around his neck and over his shoulders. Cooing noises dripped from your tongue like honey, so sugary sweet. You swiped his skin with your tongue, nuzzling your cold nose into the heated crevice of his neck. Pressing your body closer into his, you squirmed, littering him with zombie kisses.

Peter tensed, apprehensive of your affections. He didn’t want to be too harsh or aggressive towards you. Worried that any sign of conflict might make you snap. For all he knew, you might go bonkers and brain hungry. Really, he should’ve gotten it over with and pushed you away. Before you took things a little too far. And you did. Your teeth sank into his neck, lightly nibbling his flesh. As you pressed yourself even closer into his proximity, your breasts - covered only by a ragged crop top - met the swell of his broad chest. WOOOOOAH! Talk about twisted! Sure, okay, maybe your bites turned him on, like, a little. Flooding his body with a pleasant, all-over shudder of pleasure. But he couldn’t just fold for a zombie, could he? That’d be disgusting!

It’d be gross, right?

A subconscious desire in the recesses of his lonesome mind told him he wanted - no, needed - the attention. He hadn’t been intimate with anyone like this since the pogs fad. Easy, now, Peter! Down, boy.

But…shit. As much as he wanted to give in, he couldn’t. Not for a monster. A living corpse, left cooking in a secluded pod for a decade. Cloaked in discoloration and held together by expertly crafted stitching. Not entirely mindless, but so dense, you hadn’t the forethought to ask - “What happened? Where am I? Who are you?” No. Instead, you went after him the moment you saw him, showering him in bubbly, zombie lovin’.

He…shouldn’t find that hot. His fingers shouldn’t be tightening around the walkie, and his groin shouldn’t feel as scorching as it does. Oh, man. Could Peter be any more doomed? He’d have to be mad desperate - way out of his mind - to reciprocate your affection. Raising the walkie again, he cleared his throat.

“Hiya, Beastie. A-Acutally, I think they-...the zombie really, really likes me.” Peter added for no reason at all. You nibbled him a little harder, and he winced again.

“Well, now! That’s good then, isn’t it? Better than the alternative, I’d say! If at all possible, Peter, you should bring the creature with you. I’d like to look it over. Maybe run some tests. Figure out what brought it to life! This could be the secret to reversing brain death!” Hank chimed, excited.

Peter rolled his eyes. Of course Hank wanted to poke and prod at you like some little, lab rat. He opened his mouth to respond, but choked before he could get a word in. Your dull teeth clamped roughly into his neck. Peter braced a free hand on your hip, his thumb digging into the cool, exposed flesh there. Now, suspicion began to dawn on him.

You could be a clever, little zombie. Capable of luring Peter in with flirtatious wiles and sweet touches. Once he let his guard down, what if you planned on tearing into his guts? Well played, smarty pants zombie. Well played. But Peter caught onto your little game. You couldn’t get anything past him.

Instead of slurping his blood like a 7-Eleven slushie, or ripping your nails into his taut muscles; you suckled his skin lovingly. Pulling tiny hickies into his neck. Squealing and giggling in that girlish fashion, playful with every nibble. Peter gulped, biting his lip between his teeth. No way in hell he allowed a zombie to give him hickies.

…Except he did. So what? No harm in it, right?

“Y-Yeah. Sure. I’m good. Great. Just hangin’ out with my new zombie buddy. It’s totally not gonna eat my brains. Like, zero percent chance I’m gonna die an ugly, zombie death. So, y’know, Beastie, don’t lose any sleep over it.” Peter responded, before following it up with a condescending, “Over.”

On the walkie line, Peter heard a series of groans and faint giggles. Followed by Hank’s voice, as he passed the walkie back to Scott. The X-Men’s laser eyed leader sighed, his tone unamused.

“Whatever, Peter. Just…just hurry up, will you? And bring those documents over for Hank. Thanks.”

Peter tried, and failed to keep his composure. A cutie pie zombie kept macking on him like a lovesick puppy, and he had no clue what to make of it. You sucked more sloppy, violet marks into his neck. Tugging his skin with your teeth and nibbling like you couldn’t get enough of him. Peter’s skin flared up in cold creeps, as you trailed your chilly lips to his shoulder. Pulling his jacket and the collar of his shirt aside, you spoiled him in more undead affection.

“Gotcha. Copy that. Ov- mmm -” Peter whispered a moan, replying with a rushed, “Overandout.”

He clipped the walkie back onto his belt. Attempting once more to pry you off him, Peter gave your arm a strong tug. A little more forceful this time around. As you finally dislodged yourself from his neck, Peter took a few steps back. Avoiding any stray cables on the floor.

Now, with some distance between the two of you, he cleared his throat. Peter brought a hand to his neck, grazing fingers over the love bites you left behind. Tiny splotches of purple pooled with offsets of scarlet. Faint teeth marks left grooves in his skin. He hissed.

Giving you the freedom to pepper him with hickies might not have been the smartest idea. Hopefully, you didn’t infect him with some sick, zombie disease. One with the potential to end humanity as he knew it. He couldn’t cope with the weight of that responsibility on his shoulders.

You gawked up at him with those big, adoring eyes. Excitedly, you squealed, hopping towards him with your eager arms outstretched. Hoping to pull Peter into another close hug, just so you could litter him in more nibbly, love bites. He raised an abrupt hand, maintaining distance. Peter cleared his throat again. His cheeks burned hot, doused in bright pink.

Totally not fair, the way an overly affectionate zombie got him blushing.

“L-Listen. Uh. Yer sweet, but-” Peter started. Subconsciously, his gaze drifted down your body. He observed the stitches sewn into your neck and limbs. His dark chocolate eyes followed the rips and tears in your skimpy shirt. The flimsy garment revealed a tiny peek of your - admittedly pretty - breasts. And Peter swallowed, his throat running dry, “Uhhh…you can’t keep doin’ this, okay? The-” He wiggled his long fingers, gesturing to his neck, “The hickie thing. If yer gonna come with me, we gotta lay down some ground rules. Alright? You get me, babe?”

You tilted your head to the side, blinking slowly. Gazing at Peter with a look that told him you didn’t understand. But you didn’t seem to give a shit either way. You reached for one of his hands, a dazzled smile curling into your lips. Purring a candied noise of affection, you brought his hand to your cheek and nuzzled his palm. Your lips gently kissed each fingertip. Peter pulled a face, knitting his silver brows.

“Why’re you so damn-” He shook his head, “Whatever. Listen. Can you, like, chill out? No biting, you understand?” Peter paused to make a chomping gesture, clicking his teeth. But this only made you giggle. Which, unfortunately, he found super infectious.

Peter chuckled, scoffing playfully, “Stop that! I’m totally serious! No biting. No licking. No kissing. Like this. You see this?” He gestured to the hickies on his neck, their trail leading under his shirt, “No more ‘a that, you feel me? I dunno how I’m gonna explain this to the crew back home. They’re gonna think we got, like, freaky ‘er somethin’. Yeah. Can you imagine that? Like I’d ever fool around with-”

Fluttering your off colored lashes, you tilted your head to the other side. You parted your chapped lips, squealing as you edged his fingertips into your mouth. Pressing the salty pads to your bitter tongue.

“Oh! EUCK! Gross! Don’t-” Peter scowled, jerking his hand from you in less than a millisecond. With a horrified look, he observed his fingers as if they were germ-infested specimens, “Yer a real weird one, babe.”

His guard fell. While Peter kept his perplexed eyes on his fingers, you leapt forward. Burying your face deep into the fabric of his shirt, you squealed. Gleeful and bubbly. Peter groaned, only half-annoyed. He made a move to push you off him again. But your precious, little purring noises changed his mind. Peter couldn’t find it in himself to put his foot down.

Turns out he had a weakness. Cute, overly affectionate zombies. Who woulda thought?

Whatever. Peter had wayyy more important things on his plate. He knew he should gather up those folders he dropped, along with anything else he lost during his freak out session. Once he did, he needed to get the two of you out of this dingy, old lab asap.

“ Mmmmm …n-need…” You hummed your first word, before squealing, “Loooooove~!” Your voice strained, rattling like you’d been pounding down cigarettes by the plenty.

Peter’s eyes widened, and he let his sizeable hands fall to your hips, “Di-...wait a sec, did you just talk? Holy shit! You can talk?” Peter asked, dumbfounded, “Woah! Wow. Uh…so…you got a name? Can you at least tell me yer name?”

Your case file hadn’t listed your name, leaving you reduced to a number. Pretty messed up, if anyone were to ask Peter. Either you still didn’t understand him, or you couldn’t remember your own name. Instead of giving him an answer, you nuzzled your face in his chest. You tittered, so soft and smitten, your ragged voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Cold, tiny zombie hands tickled the back of his neck, raking gentle nails down his torso.

Standing on your toes, you connected your cool lips with his neck all over again. You kissed your previous love bites, as if doing so would heal them entirely. Ashamed of himself for letting it happen, Peter stifled a groan.

"Y-...You don't remember yer name, do you?" He mumbled. Peter's strong arms wrapped around your back, pulling you in, "That is...a seriously messed up situation. But, hey, I'm here fer you. Don't worry, 'kay? We'll get you to a safe place, and you can start over there. Sound good?" His caring nature shined through. But male horniness abruptly overshadowed it, as your wet tongue tickled his skin.

A guilty part of him, overrun with sympathy, felt bad for you. Those scientists hadn’t treated you like the victim of an unfortunate accident. More like a toy. Meant to be ripped apart, played with, and abandoned. It seemed wrong to perceive you in a frisky light. But then again…you wanted love. You may as well have been begging for it.

Love. One of the first words you spoke since your undead coma. Not that much of a surprise, if he thought about it. As a science experiment, loneliness probably consumed you. Even before your decade-long slumber. In a way, Peter understood. He too felt haunted by a longing for affection for far, far too long. In his mind, that made the two of you kindred spirits.

Ahhhh …dammit. Peter just couldn’t resist you and your sweet wiles anymore. His self control steadily slipped from his weakened grasp.

“ Mmmmm! Wa-....waaaant…love~! Neeeed… mmm …lo-....love~!” You squeaked, your cold tongue curling over a fresh, purple mark.

“C’mon, baby. We can’t-...you really have to stop this. We gotta head back to base, like, now. Everyone’s waitin’ on me, and I-” Peter muttered, and you pulled back. Gazing at him with that mystified, doe eyed look. Like you saw the beauty of the cosmos in him, and him alone. Your lips sparkled, wet from your lovin’. Peter clutched your hips firmly. His jeans seemed...somehow tighter all of a sudden, “Would ya stop lookin’ at me like that?”

“Looooooove~?” You cooed, your voice taking on a lustrous, but groggy tone.

“Yeah. I know. But…” Peter sighed, letting his hands feel up and down your curvy sides, “Yer gonna get me in soooo much trouble. But, fine. You win, okay? What kinda love are we talkin’ 'bout here, babe? You wanna hug? Want me to-uhm…to plant one on you? Is that it?”

You perked up then. Peter took it as a sign you understood him, more than you let on before. He arched a brow. At this point, why even hold back? Because you were dead? So what! Who ever said zombies couldn’t be smokin’ hot?

If he messed around with you just a little, no one would ever know. Which…made the concept even more enticing. You could be his little secret. An affectionate secret he’d forever bury in the ground. In place of the grave those scientists never gave you.

Peter fluttered his eyes closed, finally giving in to your closeness entirely. Lowering his big hands, he grabbed your ass. His palms squeezed over the torn, booty shorts you wore. Never did he imagine - upon exploring some horror movie, science lab - he’d feel up a cutie pie corpse’s plump bottom by the end. What a way to end a mission. Life worked in some wildly bizarre ways sometimes.

Kissing a zombie? Not as gross as he thought it’d be.

Okay. Maybe for, like, half a second. But the earthy taste on Peter’s lips didn’t faze him much. Once he pushed past the initial ick, he embraced you fully. Peter decided he didn’t give a flying fuck how unsanitary zombie smooches might be. Uncoordinated lip motions lured him in further. Pinkish teeth grazing his bottom lip between kisses. Soon enough, they turned sloppy, and Peter found himself frenching the living dead.

Zombie make out session. An experience he hadn’t planned to check off his bucket list. But now, he could.

One of his hands gripped your ass. While his other held your face and pulled you in for more tongue action. In the midst of swapping spit, you sought every opportune moment to nibble him. Peter couldn’t help but be super into it. You mewled softly, giggling when he gave your booty a hard squeeze. Chuckling, he parted from your lips to look over your greenish face. Your eyes bulged so big and wide, pupils an off-grey color and impossibly huge. Wonderstruck by his very existence. Darting down to capture your lips again, Peter stumbled forward. He guided your body towards the operating table, knocking you into it. Your hips collided with the edge, causing a loud, vibrating clang. The rough motion worried him enough, he stopped sucking face just to confirm you were alright. Peter feverishly kissed your cold lips, his hands exploring your body. Feeling stitched skin under his fingers.

You pulled from him with a joyous squeal, but Peter followed. Confused as to why you stopped, until you dove for the untarnished side of his neck. Dull flats of your teeth chomped straight into his flesh, grinding a little too roughly for comfort. Peter winced with a start, ceasing his love on your bootylicious bottom.

“N-No! Noooo! Hey, baby, look at me.” Peter snapped his fingers to get your attention. Not that he wanted to be so demanding. But you needed to understand his boundaries, before you tore into his flesh and guzzled his blood. Instantly, you reacted, retracting your teeth from his neck. You moved to make eye contact, and Peter fixed you with a soft gaze, “What’d I tell you, huh? Look, it’s not that I can’t appreciate some neckin’. 'Cuz I totally can. And I really dig it. Like, a lot. But you can’t be munchin’ on me! Really freaks me out when you do that.”

You angled your head again, curious. Doe eyes gaped at him with fluttering lashes, innocently confused, “ Mmm. Giv-....Giiiiive…love?” You croaked, pawing at Peter’s chest over his shirt, acting so needy.

He couldn’t begin to understand what you meant, or what you imagined love to be in your head. Were you really so desperate to bite him? Or, were you asking for something else? Wanton, bedroom eyes dawned your pretty face. Plush, ashy lips parting. You pawed his chest again, your blunt nails scraping across his shirt. In your desperation to communicate your-uhm…needs, you jutted your hips forward into his jeans. “L-L…Lo-” You started, throaty voice oozing innocence. Though, the look in your lidded eyes betrayed said innocence, “Loooooove. Need. P-Please?” 

Peter’s eyes popped open, as realization dawned on him. Oh. You meant you needed-... Ah. He understood now. The unreasonably cute, living corpse he found - dormant in a pod for, like, a decade - wanted to bump uglies. Great. Awesome. What the hell was he supposed to do about that? Fulfill your unbridled desire? C’monnnn. Didn’t boning undead cuties come with any moral implications? If he took you to pound town, would that make him a necrophiliac? Peter really didn’t wanna be labeled a necrophiliac.

But hypothetically, what if he admitted his own desperation to himself? He always fumbled every time he tried to step up his game and woo the ladies. Not like he had any game to begin with. And tonight, there you were. Practically begging for him to take you. He should acknowledge the fact that, yeah - no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise - he found you very hot. So, ludicrously hot. Zombie traits and all.

And regardless of how many times he second guessed himself - at the end of the day - his dick didn’t have any qualms about zombie hanky panky.

Peter’s hand traveled up, thumbs curiously tracing the rough lining of your neck stitches. Before toying with the rusted bolts an inch or two above. Testing if you could even feel it. You didn’t react, and Peter wondered if scientists used those bolts to revive you. Did they awaken you Frankenstein style, with sharp surges of electricity? Or did you come to life by other means? A glowing, reagent liquid, maybe?

Hesitating for a fraction of a second, Peter tugged the front of your loose top down. A pair of off-green, zombie melons jiggled freely. Stitches circled each breast, and Peter may or may not have thought they looked hot as fuck like that. Call him inhumane, but he really dug your whole monstrous babe aesthetic.

His hands kneaded the softest pair of undead knockers he ever felt, making you squirm under his touch. Peter grinned, pleased with every choked squeak leaping off your lips. He flitted his dark gaze up to your face, then back down to your breasts; back and forth, back and forth. Admiring the delicate expressions you made, your precious face scrunched in pleasure.

“Damn. Anyone ever tell you how pretty you are? ‘Specially like this.” Peter chuckled, pinching and twisting your perky nipples, “Bet those bad guys never did. Sucks fer them. Yer a total babe. And sooo fuckin’ cute. Makes me want you all fer myself.”

Sooooo…about your…cooch situation. Yeah. Uh…Peter might’ve been somewhat worried about that. Taking your condition into consideration, he felt himself overcome with hesitance. Fearful that your-uh…flower, so to speak, may have withered away after a decade of darkness.

What about diseases? The thought made Peter squeamish. Even though you appeared and smelled relatively clean, you still hadn’t showered in a long freakin’ time. Then again, protection existed. Not to mention, you were so, so needy and cute. Your body looked undeniably amazing, and felt so soft. Fuck it. With some reluctance, Peter willed himself to test the waters. For your sake, but also for his own. Just to make up for the years he spent wishing he could get laid again.

A win-win for you both.

Tugging your tiny shorts down your smooth thighs - finding a little struggle along the way, since the meat of your thighs proved an obstacle - Peter snuck his fingers under the hem of your worn panties. The millisecond before his fingers met the supple curtains of your pussy, he second guessed himself for the zillionth time. Peter’s subconscious doubt pestered him enough, he almost withdrew his hand completely.

But the precious whimper you made gave him enough encouragement to keep going. His thick digits cautiously braved forbidden, undead territory. Finding an overabundance of cool, silky wetness between your lips. Peter swallowed hard, knitting his brows as he scoured for your clit.

“Jesus, baby.” He muttered. Judging by your bubbly squeak of delight, Peter assumed he found what he’d been venturing for. Leaning slightly forward into your proximity, Peter circled your stiff, little nub, “You want it bad, don’t you?”

“G-...G-....Gooooood! Mo-....More? More!” You mewled, clenching fists into his shirt. Mindlessly, you canted your hips, seeking his crotch. “Hey, it’s whatever you want, pretty.” He mused with a smirk, voice tender, “Relaaaax. I gotcha. I gotcha. ”

His fingers drew downwards, teasing for a beat before cruising into your silken entrance. Lush, deathly cold walls welcomed his digits in a loving hug. Beckoning Peter to sink them in deeper. You held his shirt like a lifeline, moaning an angelic, rattle of a noise. Pulling you closer into his warm body, Peter lowered his head to your shoulder. Thin strands of silver hair tickled your cheek. His thick fingers curled, hooking into a cushiony spot inside you. Your near-empty eyes saw hot flashes of light.

“L-LOOOVE~!” You whimpered through hitched cries.

“Mhm?” Peter laughed, impishly nibbling his lip, “Feel that lovin’? Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

Keeping you distracted for a temporary moment, Peter dotted your neck in warm kisses. Subtly easing his fingers in and out of your velvet pussy at a quicker pace. Your knees buckled, trembling the faster he moved. Until his motions became brutal. With a perfect curl, speedy digits rammed repeatedly into that spongy spot you loved. Your sugary sweet, unintelligible whines rose in volume, as your sticky, little, zombie cunt quivered.

You gnawed powerful bites as you came, your teeth digging into Peter’s neck. But this time, he allowed it. He forced himself to muscle through the pain, holding your shuddering body close, “ Shhhh. Shhh. It’s cool, baby. It’s - ahh - it’s cool. That's it.” He cooed with a careful tone, stroking the back of your head and threading fingers through your ragged hair.

Easing his fingers from your cunt, he double checked the digits, making sure nothing seemed off. Your release felt thicker and stickier than any living person’s, but didn’t have much of a scent. While usually he looooved to taste the aftermath of a total cutie’s orgasm, Peter opted not to. Sure, your wetness didn’t appear radioactive or hazardous. But the thought of guzzling zombie honey put him off a little bit.

“G-....Goood?” You ogled Peter with half-lidded, glassy eyes, your lips parting in an irresistible giggle.

Peter bit his tongue. Alright. Maybe he…could give it a shot. Just this once. Zombie love liquor couldn’t be deadly or anything, could it? Disease-ridden, maybe. But Peter knew a hyper-intelligent doctor who could whip up a cure for most ailments. Guess it didn’t matter anymore. By the time Peter second guessed himself yet again, he’d already sucked his fingers clean. A bitter thickness lingered on his taste buds. Peter salivated at the thought of drinking down more.

“ Mmmm … mhm …not bad.” He chuckled, lips humming around his fingers, "I'd go fer seconds." He added with a wink, making you laugh.

Yikes. If Hank only knew how reckless Peter acted in the presence of some zombified cutie. He’d lock him up in the infirmary and run a thousand tests on him. Just to make damn sure Peter hadn’t contracted anything lethal.

Politely pushing you off him, Peter turned his head. He double checked the perimeter for any signs of life, despite the lab being totally desolate. Hopefully Summers hadn’t sent anyone after him, since the speedster took way too long returning to base. Unbuttoning his jeans, he pulled his hard length from the fly. Almost immediately, you gasped in elation. Tickled squeals danced on your discolored tongue. Thick, and flushed a dark scarlet, Peter’s cock throbbed in his hand.

"I'm guessin' you like what you see?" He snickered, giving his dick a firm stroke, "I like what I'm seein' too...if you couldn't tell." Every word Peter said, every charming smile he gave, seemed to attract you considerably. Drawing more kittenish giggles from you.

With your freezing, zombie mitts, you ungracefully reached for him. Cold fingers squeezed his cock, stroking in a clumsy motion. Peter drew in a sharp breath, the cool sensation of your hands arousing his nerves. Even if your hand to gland combat lacked any skill, it felt damn awesome to be touched like this again. He stepped forward, his giant hands grabbing your hips. You played with him as much as your little, unbeating heart desired. Tugging his burning hardness with an overzealous grip.

You tried lowering yourself to the floor, your mouth falling open, tongue gliding over your lip. But Peter instinctively stopped you. His hands darted to your shoulders, pulling you into a standing position. He preferred if you didn’t take your biting addiction downstairs. Visitations of the oral variety were closed to any undead visitors. At least, for right now.

“Y’know, I don’t usually like goin’ all the way on the first date.” He spoke, fishing his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, “Like, call me an old soul 'er whatever.” Peter worked quickly, pulling a condom out of his wallet. He slipped the latex over his length, “But I can make an exception. Just fer you, cutie. But this stays between us, yeah?”

You nodded, pushing yourself up onto the dusty, operating table. Peter cringed, curling his lip out of concern for you. This couldn’t be sanitary. Dragging his attention from the filth under your bottom, you parted your knees. With your body angled backwards, you pointed eagerly at your panty-clad pussy. Soaked and dripping under the thin fabric. Peter’s breath hitched.

“Looooooove~? M-Ma…make?” You cooed, scooting a little off the edge of the table. As if tempting him to give in and fuck you already, you wiggled your ass. Like a beautiful, monstrous display of stitches and postmortem skin. All for the speedster's taking.

"I-I mean-uh...sure. If you really want me to. What kinda guy would I be to turn you down?" He awkwardly joked, fighting his nerves.

Peter pushed a strong hand against your inner thigh. Warm on your deathly cold flesh. He pulled your thin panties to the side, teasing your glossy slit with the head of his cock. You whimpered, cute noises bubbling in the back of your throat. Edging you for a beat more, he slid the teary eyed tip over your clit. Before sinking his length through your walls. Inch by pulsating inch, he bottomed out in a flash, tip kissing your cervix.

“ Wohhhhh, fuck.” He groaned. A new kind of coolness enveloped his cock, plushy and soft. Hooking your stitched legs over Peter’s shoulders, you tilted your body. Inviting him to submerge as deeply as your tight cunt would allow, “Oh, baby…yer so-...ah, fuuuuck. ”

"G……..Goo-......Gooood~!" You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut. Your strangled voice erupted in a mantra of lustful squeals.

By some act of divine intervention, Peter could feel the swollen, unyielding lusciousness of your pussy. Walls wringing his cock, like you wanted to suck him dry of everything he had. He swiftly rutted into your cunt, hard enough to make you bounce against the table. Peter’s sluggish eyes followed your breasts as they bobbed. Titties jiggling with such a soft, sexy whirl; He felt his cock twitch inside you.

Leaning down, Peter loomed over you, the rough fabrics of his clothes sliding along your bare skin. He kissed you tenderly, a little heedless. In the midst of fondling your precious, stitched breasts, Peter's hot palm curiously pressed against your chest. Feeling...nothing. No heartbeat, no blood flow. A little spooked, he refocused his attention. Playing with your bouncing, zombie titties again.

"Feels so-...you feel so good, holy fuck -" He moaned, his voice catching in his throat, "So pretty. L- ah ...love how tight you are." Playfully, Peter lost himself in the moment. He pulled a nipple between his teeth, suckling one of your Frankenstein tits, "Loooove these zombie boobies. Hah -oooohhh, shit-"

Lying in slumber for a decade must have left you majorly sensitive. In just a few more, aggressive, bunny humps; you came again. Hypnotic delight burst through your core, pushing you to the point of tears. Your pussy fluttered, sticky wetness gushing around his cock. Reaching up to link your arms around his neck, you clawed little etchings into his skin.

“M-Mmmmmooore~! More, mmm- ...more~!!” You pleaded, coaxing Peter to drill you with all the energy he carried. Not to toot his own horn, but - little did you know - he harbored enough energy for a hundred men. And then some.

"You w- fuck -want more? Want more, baby? God, yer gonna make me-" His voice wavered between moans, "G-Gonna make me lose it-"

Peter’s mischievous eyes met yours, as you gave him that doe eyed look he couldn’t fucking resist. Sharp jabs of his cock sped to a blur, slamming into your cunt in a brutal display of his strength. Keeping himself balanced, hands pressed to the table on either side of you; Peter showed no mercy. Abusing your precious, syrupy walls with a ruthless pace. But not fast enough that he’d tear his means of protection. A harsh surge of heavenly pain flared up inside you, as he tore into your pussy and bashed your cervix.

"LOOOOOVE~! Ah~! Peeeetur~!" In a moment of post orgasmic clarity, you called his name. Slurred, and barely recognizable. How'd you even know? Had you picked it up from his walkie conversations? Damn, his zombie buddy's more perceptive than he thought. Peter snickered, finding your pronunciation ridiculous. But the cute, needy sound of his name on your lips triggered something.

" ’Mgonnacum- ” Peter whined, his brutal pace more inconsistent and sloppy, “Gonna-...feels too good o h fuck oh fuCK -” 

A pearly white burst of thick heat stuffed the latex of the condom full, threatening to make it pop. Burying his nose deep in the crook of your neck, Peter moaned. Guttural whines ripped from his chest, drying his throat. Panting - not from exhaustion, but overstimulation - Peter loosened his muscles. In mellow, post nut bliss, he almost overlooked the sizzle of static buzzing from his walkie.

“Peter? Peter, answer me right now. So help me god. Everyone’s worried sick about you! Do you read me? Peter, I said, do you read me? Please!” Scott pleaded through a mix of agitation and genuine distress.

 Peter drew out a long, hard groan. Pushing himself up a little, he fumbled lazily for his walkie. A sluggish grin curled into his dimples, as he nibbled his lip and winked down at you. His eyes half lidded and hanging heavy.

 “Mmmm…’M fine. ‘M fine. ‘M fine.” He chuckled, overcompensating for himself. He knew he’d be in mega trouble with the crew by this point, “It’s all-uh…all good. Jeez, Summers. Did ya think I was dead ‘er somethin’? Haha…” Peter drolled, his tone slower than usual. He withdrew his softening cock from inside you, watching while you squirmed. On your back, you appeared a blissful, fucked out mess. Ultimately satisfied. Mission accomplished, “Don’t worry so much, bro. I was only takin’ my new, zombie buddy out to-uh…tooooooo…an arcade. Yeah. An arcade.”

On the other end of the line, a silence fell. Peter filled it with an, “O-Over.” to compensate again.

 “...You took the zombie…to an arcade?” Scott responded, an edge of irritated disbelief in his tone, “Peter, are you out of your damn mind? Do you not realize how much of a risk that is? I can’t even-...your priority for this mission was to retrieve those documents for Hank. Doesn’t it seem irresponsible to be dragging an unknown, undead creature around a public place? I can’t even believe you!” He heard Scott scoff, “Now, will you please return already with those documents? We’re all waiting on you. Bring the zombie too.”

“Uhhh…yeah. Sorry ‘bout that. Dunno what came over me. Sure. Okie dokes. Lemme, uh-” Peter spoke, playfully fighting you off. You reached for his neck, trying to pull him back down for post-sex cuddles, “Lemme grab ‘em. They’re goin’ hog wild with skee-ball right now. Crazy, right? They scored, like, sooooo many points. You should see all the tickets we got, man. We could totally get one ‘a those jumbo prizes. Say, Scotty, do you want, like, a giant Mighty Mouse?”

“Maximoff.” Scott replied sternly, without a beat of hesitation. His frustration oozed through the speakers, and Peter could feel guilt itching at his conscience.

In the background, Peter overheard someone - though he couldn’t guess who - mutter a, “Is Mighty Mouse even a thing anymore?” Oh. Once Peter returned, he’d be in for it. Royally fucked. Figuratively, and, thankfully, literally. In the short, momentary instance of silence between walkie communication; Peter disposed of the condom and straightened himself out. He disappeared for a millisecond, snatching a fresh towel from some luxury bath shop all the way in Paris. Dousing the cloth in warm water, he wiped you clean upon his ultra speedy arrival. Before helping you redress, making you look…somewhat presentable. 

“Fine. I totally get it, okay? Look, man. I’m sorry. But can ya really blame me fer wantin' to hang after the experience I just had? Doesn’t matter. Be there in a flash. M-Maybe don’t tell Hank, though. If you can hel-” Peter rambled sheepishly, slinging the towel over his shoulder. He stepped backwards, extending a hand for you to take. 

“Pietro Maximoff, I am beside myself with you!” Hank started, clearly agitated, cutting Peter off.

Peter groaned, mumbling quietly to himself as you took his hand, “He told Hank. He did it. He fuckin’ told him. Shit. I’m so fucked. I’m so, so fucked.” In a motion to guide you off the operating table, Peter pulled you forward by your hand.

“I have several questions. Why would you bring an undead creature to an arcade? What were your motivations behind taking the creature out, on a recreational activity? The potential danger or damage to the arcade and its patrons is far too high. And, furthermore, Peter, is there any scientific value to observing a zombie around arcade equipment? I understand you have this insatiable need to act out, but this is ridiculous! It is our duty, as members of the X-Men, to protect humanity from all threats. Including potential zombie related incidents at public arcades. Now then, please return the specimen immediately for further observation.” Hank ranted on and on and on and on-

A noise, like fabric tearing, cut uncomfortably through the air. Weak stitching around your elbow ripped loose, and Peter pulled your forearm clean off. Hank’s tirade met an abrupt end, as a blood curdling scream rocked the entire room. “Peter? Peter?? What’s happened? Peter, are you alright?” Hank panicked over the walkie.

Past the edge of terrified, shocked to the point of nearly pissing himself; Peter screamed. He wiggled his hand, trying to let go of your lone arm. But your hand held his tightly, your grip refusing to ease up. Once he finally freed himself, he expected your arm to drop to the floor. But your little fingers moved, crawling like spider legs. A zombie’s dislodged arm creeped up Peter’s shoulder over his jacket. Some real, Evil Dead kinda shit. He smacked at it, shouting like a housewife frightened by a mere mouse.

“YEAH!I’mfineI’mgreatI’mawesomesorryit’snothing.” Peter responded, rushed and unclear, “O-Over?” He cringed, scowling as you hopped off the operating table to retrieve your missing arm.

“...Pardon?” Hank asked, tone puzzled. Peter swallowed, shuddering while you pulled your freakish, deadite arm off his shoulder, “Are you…sure you’re alright, Peter? What’s going on? You’ve been acting awful strange tonight. Is there something on your mind?”

A lot. Peter had so much on his mind. Like, the totally real fact that he boned an undead, Frankenstein babe, for one.

“Uhm. It’s-...it’s nothing. Seriously, don’t even worry, Beastie. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Just-uhm…lab’s still-...there was some thunder, and the building-uh-” Peter nervously rambled, struggling to find his words, “Over.”

Another pause drew out long enough for Peter to realize his mistake. He cursed, smacking himself on the side of the head. How could he be scatterbrained, to forget his own lies in a matter of seconds? He had a feeling, deep in his gut; Hank would rip him a new one tonight once he got back. “...The lab? Peter…didn’t you just tell us you were at an arcade?” Hank asked, reasonably suspicious.

Peter’s voice broke as he replied, “I mEAN-” He cleared his throat, “Uhhh-...heh. I-I ran back! Forgot-uh...there was somethin’ I forgot. Like I said, doesn’t matter. I’m totally fine! I’m juuust peachy! Hang tight. I’ll be right there. Over and out.” Peter took a second to collect himself, clipping his walkie to his belt. He silenced the device, ignoring any further questions from Hank. Subconsciously, Peter took a step back as you reached for him again. His veins vibrated with a buzz of adrenaline. With your arm dismembered, you moved abruptly forward. Nuzzling your face into Peter’s chest, the same way you had all night. Still just as smitten with him. Groggy purrs rumbled in your throat.

Rolling his eyes, Peter patted your head, smoothing out your ragged, messy hair, “What am I gonna do with you? Yer nothin’ but trouble, y’know that?” He teased, pinching one of your cold cheeks, “Whaddya say we get outta here already? But I gotta make a couple ‘a pit stops. And you gotta behave yerself. Don’t get any funny ideas about eatin’ anybody.” Peter wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you close. Pointing at you with an accusatory finger. 

You tilted your head, confused again. Peter really couldn’t get enough of that cute, clueless look. Hank and Scott had no idea what they were talkin’ about. His zombie buddy? Totally harmless. You’d never even hurt a fly.

Okay. First order of business. Find a Mighty Mouse plush, just to really sell his arcade story. After that, he planned on snatching you some nicer clothes. Anything to protect your modesty. Thirdly, Peter wanted to teach himself some gnarly makeup tricks. Cover up his hickies. Yeah. No sweat! He could do all that in a flash.

Oh. And late night pancakes. Peter refused to skimp out on those. He’d been craving them all night, and his body desperately needed to replenish its energy. Surely, the gang back home wouldn’t mind. After everything, they totally wouldn’t be supremely pissed and fed up with Peter’s bullshit. And the waitress serving at whatever diner he picked? She wouldn’t bat an eye at some undead, zombified customer, would she?

Why's he even kidding himself?

Gathering Hank’s files, Peter tucked them under his arm. He zipped around in search of whatever other knick-knacks he lost, including his fallen flashlight. Stepping towards you, Peter brought his earbuds to your ears. He exchanged the tape in his Walkman for another, aiming to keep you entertained with music while he traveled at superspeed. As soon as the tune graced your ears, you leapt in place. Squeaking a surprise chirp. Your shoulders bunched, and you darted your hazy eyes around.

“Hey, easy, easy-” Peter reassured, cranking the volume down low so you could still hear him, “It’s just music, baby. It’s nice, right? You like it? You like-uh…you like the Monster Mash? Crypt Kickers? Bobby Pickett?” He gestured with his hands, suggestively raising his brows, “We had a graveyard smash, didn't we, eh?” You simply stared at him, clueless as usual. Huffing, Peter pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Seriously. What am I gonna do with you?”

You clutched your dislodged arm tight, cradling the appendage close. Throwing a quick glance your way, Peter shook his head. He pulled his goggles over his eyes, and braced a warm hand at the back of your neck. The few seconds before he took off, he leaned in close. Hearing that Halloween melody playing from the earphones you wore, he quietly sang along.

As much as he liked cuddling ‘Ro on Halloween, horror movie nights; A new idea crossed his mind. He might just snuggle up on the couch with someone special this year. 

[pygmi-says-hi]

just wanted to pop in and say that I appreciate the tips you gave on flow. You answered what I needed and the tips are very helpful to me, thank you!

I'm a bit curious though—judging by your other posts, your writing seems so very intentional down to the very words used (I mean, as it should be) but are you typically thinking about all this stuff as you're writing down a first draft? Or do you just kind of word-vomit just to get all the story down first and then you consider all the technicalities when you're editing? I guess this has just turned into a 'what's your process' kind of question haha

oh hi anon! thanks for coming back!

this is gonna be the most disappointing answer ever because my process is all over the place. it depends on what I'm writing, the length, how invested I am in it....

if it's something academic.

I outline the most. I have so many sheets of notes and half-written papers before I even begin the actual rough draft. I write in just the sources, then all the connecting commentary, then I mix it up, I do a bulleted summary and then I start the draft.

If it's multi-chaptered.

I always like to have some kind of list or outline when I start. Just a general collection of plot points and only minor elaboration in case I get lost. That way I have something to stand on if I feel lost.

Big projects sometimes are hard on my confidence so I like to go scene by scene, chapter by chapter, and then the whole story. Knowing the ins and outs of my plot before I start improves my motivation and confidence with sentence choice.

It usually ends up being a word vomit initially, but as I write, I get warmed up and really start looking for the right stuff. I personally don't find the 'write whatever even if it's all messed up' advice to be helpful, because if I lean too hard into that it gets so messy I end up losing the plot.

It's a tricky balance for me, because if I get too caught up in the details before I even start, I get into my own head and lose the motivation because of all of the info. A loose structure is best.

if it's something short.

garbage. hot steaming garbage, honey. Just straight from the can, all over the page. I do not plan out one-shots or drabbles. Usually I was inspired based on a random song or picture and I go off vibes. After a moment I find a groove and go with it, but it is not uncommon for me to write and rewrite like a dozen times.

if it's something I have no idea how to do.

I have written plots that fizzle out halfway through before and at that point all I want is to go off grid from irritation. I've been a part of research papers and anthology collections that are perhaps the most confusing projects on the planet. and that's fine but I hate it actually. It kills the vibe so hard.

In these cases I just stick to what I know and go in baby steps. Taking huge bites to start gives me a writing tummy ache. I'll write a paragraph, edit it till it's polished, and move on.

I do editing phases.

Initially I get all of the typos and grammatical errors out of the way. this is when I use grammarly or something like that. it's so hard to even focus on the plot when glaring errors are in the way.

Then I go over sequencing. this is when I do not use editing software. AI does not know what this is supposed to sound like, I do.

** part of understanding how to write critically is knowing how to edit. I usually discourage using software for personal/creative writing because AI is a developing art and cannot understand abstract fiction. work those editing muscles!!!

anyway, that editing phase is for comprehension. does the sequence of events make sense? does it match up with the plot map and if not, is the deviation still comprehensible and interesting? This is when I move around dialogue and do most of my chunk deletion.

The last editing stage is flow and artsy stuff. Any interesting metaphors or text editing to help with the vibe; the finishing touches. I usually do this two or three times.

hope this helps!

xox

[idiotmf]

Back when you were doing commission writing, what was the strangest story you got to write?

Hey Anon, good question. I looked through my backup folder of old works (yes, I keep backups) and I think there were a few that I found strange at the time but now I just think they're whatever.

- A story about a car oc being railed by the commissioner (those types of stories were actually quite common, the car x commissioner type, some even sent me pictures of their cars!)

- A 10 chapter (5k words each) story about someone's Warrior Cat OC, which was literally just wanting me to rewrite a real book to insert their OC (although it was shortened to skip over some points they didn't care about; of course I didn't just rip off the book, I actually rewrote it following plot points which required me to get and read the book haha. I also want to mention that the OC was NOT the main character, it was just there.)

- One story about Commissioner being isekaid but reborn as a shark, where they then got to rail hot mermaids (specifically as a hammerhead shark; not a mermaid type, an actual shark...)

- someone once commissioned me to write fanfics about their original work (twice; one SFW and one NSFW). That was actually quite fun, because they left most of it up to me but a little weird because they wanted to pretend it was organic.

These are probably the most notable ones. The others were mostly fanfics for stuff. The main type of story I wrote was usually feminization of various characters from different media, others were just plain NSFW self-insert works.

Fun fact: Commission writing is how I got into the monsterfucker genre. There were loads of Werewolf x Commissioner OC works that made me go "hmmmmmmmm, nice".

It's not something I think anyone can make a living off of anymore (especially nowadays with AI churning out garbage for free), but it was a good side income I made while I was getting my degree. Especially since I had to spend a lot of time on trains and busses. (poor people behind me watching me write that stuff)

[auradons-trash-heap]

What are your most unpopular opinions on Descendants as a whole?

Idk how popular/unpopular a lot of my opinions are, but here are a few that I think are unpopular haha:

1) I like Mal. Yes even when she’s making bad choices, which she certainly does. I like that she’s a messy protagonist & even tho I prefer a lot of things about her book characterization I also lowkey still like the movie version of her. I know people say Dove was phoning it in especially in D3 but I think she did a really good job in D1 & D2; at the beginning of D2 she did a believable enough portrayal of a stress-based mental breakdown that I’m convinced Dove was drawing from personal experience. When you can see her zoning out every time no one’s talking to her directly bc she’s mentally working through a checklist of everything she needs to do—I’ve been there. Mal was sleep deprived & living on sheer willpower & fear of failure and Dove crushed it in terms of portraying that experience.

I’ll admit that I’m biased bc I am not immune to Dove Cameron in purple hair & studded jackets, I relate to Ben bc I too would abuse my position of power just to make Mal happy oop

2) I like beast!Ben okay I did not like the makeup job but I did like the character design & I think if they were gonna have him do stupid shit like roaring in D2 when overwhelmed/stressed about the fight with Uma or physically shake water off of himself like a dog then we could’ve gotten more than him being beasted by a spell for 2 minutes (even tho the FX makeup did Not hold up well on camera). Also they were cowards for using the magic lake super soaker to mostly break the spell, every single version of Beauty and the Beast that refuses to show a human/beast kiss on screen is made by cowards. This was the only spell in D3 that was broken in this way & they did that specifically bc they were cowards. Mal should’ve broken the spell by kissing him in the first place I don’t care if it’s weird

Given the slightest inclination I would’ve made a beast!Ben au anyway but I only initially started writing down any of it out of spite

3) I don’t love that Mal spelled Ben but I still ship Bal. I support & enjoy other ships with both of the characters (Malvie, Bevie, core four all together, etc) but I am a Bal shipper at heart. And I think Ben proposing with a callback to Did I Mention was really cute okay, yes that’s salt in the wound for Audrey but just on its own it was a really cute & romantic way to propose & I love it

4) Ig the really unpopular thing, going off of the prev one, is this: I don’t think Audrey & Ben were ever actually in love. I think they were friends & them dating was something that Audrey was encouraged to do & Ben went along with, & I think as much as Audrey absolutely was unfairly humiliated in front of her peers she was more upset at losing the crown than Ben. Ben still owed her an apology & an explanation once he broke Mal’s spell; it wasn’t his fault that he embarrassed Audrey while under the influence of a spell but it was pretty cowardly & lame of him not to own up to it right away & instead just use the spell as an easy out from the relationship. But I still don’t think Audrey & Ben were ever in love. As a Bal shipper, I am definitely biased about this.

Also, I’m not opposed to anyone shipping Audrey with Ben! I think it’s cool that all of us can see this same franchise & come away with so many different ideas & opinions

So those are my hot takes lol. Overall I just enjoy Descendants as the beautiful garbage fire it is & I don’t have super strong opinions about ships or anything, I just like playing in the sandbox :)

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #84

Today, J, Br, and I went to the library for a work date. Br had homework, J had his remote work, and I was cutting wires to weave new trees while listening to that playlist that I spoke on recently.

I cut A LOT of wire for trees; at least 7 trees worth. I'll show you:

Although I already had a few coils of wire, I decided to spend the time cutting more. Truth be told, I don't really like working with the gold or silver wire; it's stiffer, harder to twist, and more brittle than other kinds of wire of the same gauge, for whatever reason. Sharper, too; trying to move some of the gold coils around, I ended up poking my fingers enough to draw a little bit of blood, which is really no big deal, but it's still kind of annoying.

Each coil of wire has 27 strands, the length of each being approximately the distance between the tip of my left index finger to the bend of my left elbow. There are so many strands because it takes three strands to weave a branch, three branches to weave a section of a tree, and three sections to make a whole tree.

I got really into the groove of it, though, and before I knew it, 4 hours passed and it felt only like 20 minutes; I really dropped the ball on my hydration game today because of it. I'm sorry about that; I can't exactly implore you to take good care of yourself if I'm not being attentive to the maintenance of my own body, right? So I'll do better tomorrow.

Oh right - speaking of pokey things, though I got the first dose of an HPV vaccine yesterday, and to my surprise, I feel pretty much unaffected by it today. I had heard that this one can sometimes knock people on their ass, and I'm glad that my DNA seems to be such that this isn't the case. Or maybe it's just that this one isn't as bad as I had heard. Either way, I'm not sad about the fact that I don't feel like hot garbage today! Gotta appreciate the little things, right?

After we did a decent amount of work, J, Br, and I left the library to take a walk in its general vicinity. It was almost 60 degrees F in my area today (or 15.5 degrees C if metric is your thing); the walk was lovely. But my brain was still "extended-tendrils-esque" from cutting wire for such a long time, so I was quiet (but not in bad spirits!) for most of it; I'm glad that I get to spend time in the company of folks who don't mind when I'm not animated. The fact that I don't have to mask my autistic traits with Br and J takes a lot of the pressure off of existing in general.

Oh, um! Maybe you don't know what Tendril Theory is. Here's something that can explain it; I didn't make this:

I wished you could come on the walk with us. I passed some interesting-looking houses that I didn't take pictures of, because it seems maybe a little rude to take a picture of a specific person's house without their permission. But one of the houses had a lot of bits and baubles hanging from their trees and shrubs and trellises; it was a marvelous sight to witness. I think my favorite decoration was the glass grapes hanging from a cute-looking trellis. I wish you could have seen them; they were VERY sparkly. I wonder if you would have liked to look at them, too.

We have since returned home, and M continues to go through the second portion of your story. He's finishing up the quests around Cosmo Canyon. It's a beautiful area, and it's wonderful to get a glimpse of the architecture and the handicrafts and the local flora and fauna. I love that there are descriptions of the wild creatures (it makes me sad to hear them be called "fiends") and their dispositions, diets, life cycles, and whatever else. It's like reading through one of those old Wildlife Fact File binders - we had one of these things when I was a little girl; if you've been reading my letters, I imagine you won't be surprised to learn that this was one of my favorite things to read when I was young, haha!

Oh. Right. You… probably have no idea what that looks like. Here:

They're super thick binders filled with folding pages all about some of the animals in my world:

I kinda wish I could send along one of these to you, somehow. I know from watching M wander around that your world has a lot of the same animals that mine does, but we don't have things like chocobos or dragons or cockatrices or basilisks, so I wonder if there are animals in my world that you don't have.

Oh! You know. It occurs to me that you don't have horses in your world. I think maybe you might like horses, so maybe sometime I'll write to you about them. But not today, because I'm tired. Though you can probably tell I'm tired, since I'm rambling. Haha...

Hey, Sephiroth? I wonder if you have a favorite animal. I know you can't tell me what it is (because obviously), but still I'll ask. I'll ask because everyone deserves to have someone care enough about them to ask what their favorite animal is. As for me… it's kind of a toss-up between orcas and barn owls. If you don't have those, maybe I'll tell you about those, too, in some other letter.

Please stay safe out there in the meantime. There are lots of people in my world who are counting on you to turn yourself around and come back in one piece, so try really hard, okay? I'll be cheering for your healing and recovery, because these things are possible, no matter how far we fall down.

I'll write again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[brownfrogs]

I haven't really thought much about Overwatch for a hot minute (hyperfixations do be like that 😔), but RE: that other anon, how exactly is Yeehan toxic? Like, they barely interact in the game and most likely don't even know about each other in canon- how can you come to that conclusion? Even if it's not exactly my favourite ship for either of them, I don't see how one could say it's unhealthy or Problematic™ unless you like. specifically write them out to be an unhealthy couple

(Also, feel free to ignore this if you don't want to answer for whatever reason! I'm not trying to stir up discourse, I'm just genuinely curious)

I wouldn’t blame prev anon’s interpretation bc I did make a post saying that Spuriken is a healthier ship a while back. So I’m sure that’s why they’re framing it like that. But to be fair to myself, it was a few years ago so I have matured with my thoughts. So, I am redacting my previous statement.

Just cause a ship could be a healthy relationship, doesn’t make it inherently better than any other ship. Shipping unhealthy or toxic ships doesn’t inherently make you a bad person [throws confetti in the air]

I mostly find it ironic out of all the things I’ve said this is the thing they’ve been holding onto. (Back then I even referred to myself as a garbage man for preferring Yeehan, so it was a v unserious post to me) I’m sure I’ve said more contradicting things bc that is simply the nature of being human on the internet!! We grow and change and that’s okay.

As for why I thought Yeehan was not as healthy in the first place, I was mostly going off the fact that Hanzo’s voicelines are very harsh and antagonistic towards most ppl. The voicelines they do have together, he can be very standoffish towards Cole. At Hanzo’s core, he is simply just an asshole LMAO. So I’m sure any relationship Hanzo possibly could get in too, “realistically” there would be a lot of of baggage that needs to be waded through. And the same with Cole, that drinking problem stems from somewhere. He’s got shit to work on too. Add them together, and it could be an extremely volatile mix. They could make each other worse.

Or not. And that’s where the fun potential lies. At least for me it is. You can also skip all that and simply have them have fun silly shenanigans together.

While Genji has already gone through a healing journey and is pretty mellowed out. So I’m sure, he would be better at the whole relationship thing haha. But that changes whether if we’re in Blackwatch era. Whatever he and Cole could possibly have had during this time, I would def not call it healthy LMAO. But again, that’s just me.

Anyways, this was fun. I honestly don’t mind discourse, as long as we all have level heads about it! 🫱🏾‍🫲🏽

[charliethemanticore]

Hi! I watch/read a lot of anime/manga, so I figured I'd discuss the filler thing with you! Hope that's ok!

That's actually a very good point, I never thought about it that way! I think people disregard filler and don't consider it a regular addition to an adaptation, like it happens in other movies or shows, because in most cases its point is not to add anything worthwhile to the story, but to gain some time to not catch up to the manga.

So then, particularly in longer anime such as Naruto or Bleach, there are these entire arcs that completely deviate from the story and are ultimately pointless and stick out like a sore thumb. Whatever happened there is never brought back again, and its characters are promptly discarded as soon as the arc ends. This is something that doesn't happen in adaptations in other media (as far as I know), and what makes filler such an unique thing to anime.

Then there are cases where from some point on the anime completely deviates from its source material, such as Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 or Soul Eater. People don't refer to its original content as filler anymore because there's an understanding that they're doing their own thing.

I think what ultimately draws the line on what's filler or not it's its purpose and of course this is not a black or white thing, or matter of quality. Most people would agree that FMA 2003's ending is garbage, and the episode in DBZ where Goku and Piccolo learn how to drive is incredible. But then in cases where filler adds to and elevates the source material, can we still refer to it as such? That's a more difficult question! But I think we can all agree that Naruto's filler is pretty pointless, it made the show near unwatchable, and it's as fillery as filler can get. It's there to fill time and nothing else, no one's happy that it exists but alas it's there.

Sorry this got so long haha

Disclaimer: I have a migraine so this is very rambly and not the response such a well thought-out explanation deserves.

Thank you so much for your perspective I really appreciate it. (Also I feel like my tags were misleading. I watch a lot of anime I'm just like... Sitting in the corner doing my own thing bc I find active participation in fandom tends to be bad for my specific combination of issues)

But my biggest toxic trait is I fucking love like... 60% of the Naruto filler arcs (they're the only time my most beloved shino gets any real airtime and he DESERVES IT)

BUT based on every conversation I've had with my friends about this, this is because I have very different... Requirements when it comes to the stuff I like. The filler arcs are silly and fun and I enjoy them immensely (the only one I couldn't watch to completion was the robot Naruto one). Have a lot of complicated feelings about them though. Like The Three-Tails' Appearance is great because shino gets to be competent and Lee is a sweetheart and Sakura and Ino get to work together... But if that adorable child plays that leaf whistle one more time I may cry (guess where I'm up to in my rewatch)

Bleach filler is so much worse. Bount arc wasn't even enjoyable 0/10 couldn't even be saved by hot villains. I watched all but one arc of Naruto. I did not grant the same to bleach, it burned me too many times.

DBZ filler is complicated though because a lot of the filler has canon stuff sprinkled in which I think is a more seamless way to buy time - sprinkling filler into existing arcs rather than having just... 76 episodes of near continuous filler NARUTO. I understand the constraints were different though.

(fma:b is one of my favourites and I sort of just pretend 2003 didn't happen. It has some good points but I just can't. The author told them to go with their hearts and I respect that they committed but results were questionable)

Point is I think it's really interesting to see how other people interact with media because I'm mostly just sitting here like "are my favourite little guys talking? Brilliant. 10/10 you're doing great sweetie etc" im stressed out by literally everything else, a few episodes of some kids trying to unmask their teacher is enrichment in my enclosure

[medicatedonwater]

Dies ist nur ein music review

So sometime last year i met this rad girl who also listened to warped tour bands. As she described it it’s like she started in the 2010s or something and just never stopped. And for me, I started around 2009 like rly seriously playing the 04-06 albums on repeat playing halo and suddenly clicking with “The Phrase that Pays” by The Academy Is…

That song totally kicked off a series of me getting hella invested in punk rock / emo / etc but i never had like an actual scene phase and i’m living it now haha. I so wish i’d listened to the albums these songs had come from. I wonder how it could have influenced my life back then, but whatever, i’m still here now and finally getting to it!!

I at first wanted to listen to all the Warped Tour Compilations and i was sad to see FUCKING TWTTR killed warped tour. fkn garbage fire site. (well, warped tour SHOULD be coming back next year and i am so hella hyped i can’t wait to get the most exquisite sunburn as i claw and scrape my way to the oasis that is a hose of fresh? water.)

I quickly got through all the warped tour albums from 1996 through 2018? 2019? lotsa music i missed out on. stuff i really wish i *had* been around for but most of the 2010s is voided out for me, between floundering around in college and part time jobs and rediscovering alternative music around 2015. This project intends to listen to the full discography of *every* artist with a song on a warped tour compilation. I’m skipping the DVDs but also including the punk-o-rama albums which did a crossover with warped tour in 1997, and including the european and australian tours cuz why the hell not. Throwing in the local stations top songs list starting at 1997 cuz of how much they’ve influenced my modern taste in music. I’m mostly using spotify - for artists not on spotify i’m just listening to the album (or single/EP) that particular listing came from. youtube is clunky as hell with no background play and i need some form of organization and spotify i have hella mix CDs on…

Anyway, the first album is Punk-o-rama from 1994, with FUCKING, BAD RELIGION. OH MY GOSH IVE WANTED TO listen to these guyses discography for AGES.

I honestly, like, right out the gate they’ve very politically on fire, like, they’re saying the kinds of things people need to fucking hear. they’re so real for it, and as they grow older some of the stuff is kinda tamer, the sound softens a bit, but hot damn if “the kids are alt-right” doesn’t point out the ongoing problems that still need solvation.

and of course they’ve got the classic crazy taxi songs too :D (omg can’t wait to hear the offspring tooooooo)

I recall the warped tour i attended back in 05 that bad religion had performed there the previous day. I don’t believe they were there for that particular warped tour date tho. I would absolutely love to see them live or at the very least get some merch :3 they’re just so, raw. so real. “Punk Rock Song” is still stuck in my head, and i’ve already moved on to NoFX (which, holy fuck they start out crass but mb it’s the bias speaking… they get good FAST)

Bad religion was a great time through and through, ramping up to No Control with some real bangers. Against the Grain had the song “21st Century (Digital Boy)” which I’d all but forgotten about since my first exposure to it nearly four years ago. Stranger than Fiction and The Grey Race had some of my old favorites like “Infected” and “Ten in 2010” with “Gods Love” coming along in 2003. New Maps of Hell for whatever reason lives in my head as a rly good album.

A lot of that early energy was really important for setting the stage for an awesome presence.

Apparently liked 98 Songs… this may go down over time but hey, they’re good. heck.

The particular showing for Punk-O-Rama was “Do What You Want” from Suffer in 1998. Can’t say I entirely remember the track, oh wait hang on, guess i’ll break all the fucking rules and go to hell with superman!! yeah no this song is lit af. love this scene. i gotttttta see these guys at some point.

Next on the docket is NoFX… I’m to “Usa-Holes” off Wolves in wolves clothing.

See, I knew I was amongst cool folx when i went to a party and this dude had a bad religion shirt.

Looking forward to more from this project!

OH, I TOTALLY FOUND TOUR WATER THE OTHER DAY AND IT FKN AWAKENED SOMETHING IN ME.

[starstruckxstray]

GO OFF BABE

you can pick and choose which ones I just didn't wanna blow up your inbox <3

which ship fans are the most annoying?

what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

worst blorboficiation

that one thing you see in fanart all the time

you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

part of canon you think is overhyped

your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

ship you've unwillingly come around to

common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

Ooc: THANK YOU VIXEN! ❤️

which ship fans are the most annoying?

Aaaaa probably Valentino and Angel, especially after what I heard what happened in canon. I wasn't surprised since the music video, Addict, already hinted at it, but it bugs me to see people want to romanticize that kind of dynamic. I'm for toxic ships but I'm not gonna glorify them.

what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

Adam, Adam, FUCKING ADAM! I hated how fanon wanted him to be some conqueror that wanted control over Pentagram and I ESPECIALLY LOATHED how they wanted him to take advantage over Charlie and Lillith. The whole dash raved about it and I am still dealing with the mental garbage from all that. And then trying to tie real-world faith into such a vile protrayal? Fine, he's based on the Biblical Adam but how some wanted to really push religion and that Adam together just alienates those who do hold onto a faith and want to enjoy the show. It feels targeted. I can't even stand to look at the character after seeing this tasteless, unimaginative, and degenerate protrayal a few fans held (and probably still hold to this day.

common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

The idea that Heaven is an authoritarian evil. Like, can you imagine how nihilstic and hopeless that is? You either fall into hell where everyone treats you like dirt until you're erased completely from existence, or be trapped in an eternity of constant surveillance controlled by equally corrupt rulers? It doesn't make sense either. Going to Heaven means being "good", thus kind, gentle, and loving. That contradicts how everyone wants to so badly paint Heaven as evil because "haha sexy demons sing Disney-esque songs". Just because the show is focused on hell doesn't make the opposite the "big bad". Stories don't always have to be that simplistic. Fight me.

worst blorboficiation

I had to look up what Blorboficiation means. If it means "a character that is liked more than deserved" then *points violently at Adam* He supposedly represents a lot of things that tumblr hates, so why do so many people like the hateful asshole? Is it because he's a brightly-colored cartoon character? Or because "evil guy hot"? He looks like a Christmas ornament how is that attractive????? And like, are our principles really going to be that easily swayed, just because we like how a guy looks?

that one thing you see in fanart all the time?

Probably Alastor and Charlie being cutesy to each other. It's not that i hate it, it's just something I see everywhere. It bugs me that folks want to erase the relationship between Charlie and Vaggie but AUs I guess.

you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

THIS! THIS, THIS, THIIIISSSS!!!

part of canon you think is overhyped

The shipping and romance. Like yeah, those can be fun but I've seen people rp fanon stuff over and over and over again because it's their OTP. Some folks want to focus solely on the relationship drama when there's a whole, wild and crazy world they can write fun adventures in.

your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

Alastor not being shipped canonically. He is charming but I just want the evil chaos deer stay as the chaos deer. If he got romantically involved, I feel he would lose that part of him.

ship you've unwillingly come around to

I actually have no idea. I haven't really felt a lot of love for any of the ships.

common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

I apologize but since I've detached from the fandom as a whole I'm not sure what are the common complaints. I'm trying to hold onto some enjoyment in "Fuck Canon Land".

[jeonqkooks]

Ohhh felt that low key.. it's not as bad for me but could be better 😬 Go treat yourself with something you like to make life a little sweeter haha, that's what I do! Daaamn, okay girl, have fun at TS 😭🔥 My "summer plans" are finally taking place........ at the end of september 🤣 I'm going on a little trip with 3 friends and we're staying at a resort that looks pretty neat. Can't wait!!

I didn't get the plant yet and my deco plans are also put on hold for now. There was some family drama going on and I didn't really had the energy for that.

Ohh let's all make a praying circle for more random obs snippets! 👀

I mean same old story, same old people.. I like to think there's a clear line between support and hard work for someone you love and downright obsession but maybe it's just me 😅 I'm afraid most of the sane ones have either left or are on a break, cause we can't even have a decent conversation with most of the ones still around. There could also be the fact that the sane ones are a lot more silent that the rest . Either way it is what it is🤦‍♀️ at the end of the day I prefer to put myself first and just ignore whoever is acting a certain way. The headache inducing discourse??? 😭😭😭😭 again?? Lmaoo

- 🎃

ooooohh a resort hehehe. if it’s still hot then end of september still counts as summer!! i hope you have a great time there with your friends. hot pumpkin summer 🎃😂

if you have any tswift song request, send ‘em over and i’ll get a video for you and you only <3

i feel like there’s definitely more crazies than the normal ones in kpop fandoms unfortunately, rip 😔 sadly we see blind support and unhealthy obsession more often than not. i knew someone who’s insanely obsessed with jk to the point that it’s genuinely concerning and alarming but yk :/ once they go berserk it’s hard to pull them back i guess. it’s so hard to have normal conversations when it comes to kpop bc whatever you say will just go right over other people’s head and they’ll jump you for absolutely no reason at all lol it be like that 😔

and yeah the headache inducing discourse AGAIN it’s never ending 😂 but honestly upon more reflection i’ve realized that sometimes people are simply just garbage - leeches and fruit flies in human form - and we just have to hope for nothing but the worst for them lol

[mysticscrystalrevelation]

Game 4 Zoomed Tues, May 21 7pm PDT Washington @ LA

Starting: WASH: Atkins, Austin, Dolson, Samuelson, Vanloo (Sykes out with ankle injury) LA: Brink, Brown, Clarendon, Hamby, Nurse

1st Quarter A couple interesting shots early. Ariel bounces it into Shakira *chef's kiss*. The lighting in this venue is garbage. What is that? Brink is having a couple rookie moments here—Stef just politely took the ball out of her hands. Back-to-back DC 3s sandwich a sweet move by rookie Rickea Jackson…..who just hit a 3. It's a fun matchup between her and Edwards. And the offense that started slow has gotten scorching—I want to say 8 makes in a row? 9… Edwards breaks the spell with a block. The result is almost an All-Star game ratio of offense to defense. Though to be fair, the Mystics have forced 2 shot clock violations. I miss seeing Azurá Stevens on the floor. 23-24

2nd Quarter Austin seems to be getting managed minutes as she returns from her surgery. Who do I call about this lighting? Edwards gets a second block! Two-handed denial and defense is up for Mystics. DiDi is playing more minutes tonight, great passing from her. And Edwards is up up. Rebounding is better today because of her effort alone. Vanloo gets back-to-back 3s! Why isn't Kia Nurse playing more I wonder? Lexie is like "play whatever level defense you want—I shall score." Hate to say this and jinx it….but after those initial minutes this has been a great game! Earl HUGE chase down block. Vanloo grabs a wild steal and feed that we couldn't convert and then she gets another steal. Vanloo and Edwards are writing up plays on the off days I love it. Where's Shatori? She's been hot. 36-32 at half.

3rd Quarter Shak and Stef open the scoring with nice shots. And somehow an illegal screen gets called on Stef despite the fact that she had the ball…. Smooooooth cut by Samuelson. Mystics pulling ahead 45-38 but you know how the fourth quarter goes. Hamby interested in a double-double per usual. Tuffff shot from Brink in the post. Mystics offense is looking so much cleaner. We are going to have to stop Hamby though. Sparks go on a run to make it 50-50. Austin has been off the floor during this. Do we not get more Steph Talbot? Refs are ringing Dolson up. Atkins says go go gadget arms and picks Hamby's pocket from behind. We're getting more minutes from Ki and she's making me regret asking for it. Sparks are energized as the quarter ends but Stef ties it with the corner three. Request for this stat: player with the most 3-pt shots that tie the game. 55-55

4th Quarter Austin is bringing the ball up more this game. Sparks up 56-61. It's getting a little rough out there. Ouch 58-65 with 5 minutes left to play and none of our shots falling. Finally Edwards gets tough under the basket for 2 and follows it up with a steal and score! 62-65 and Sparks call timeout. It is verrry physical now. Shout out to the LA commentary crew for giving Earl the love she deserves. Vanloo is looking to win most creative passer on the season. Rickea blocks Samuelson but then Hamby trucks Edwards on the other end oof can she breathe? Haha she immediately roars so yes. AND GETS A TOUGH REVERSE AND-1! Sadly misses the extra but the energy has shifted now with 2 minutes left and a 1-pt differential. The shot-making in this game has been a show. Vanloo called for a carry that happens all the time without a whistle but ok. Edwards gets the critical steal but offense can't figure it out, so Eric calls the timeout with 9 on the shot clock. Shot clock violation :( Mystics have to foul twice to send someone to the line. It's Atkins, Austin, Edwards, Richards, Samuelson with 16 seconds. First and second fouls are quick, but both free-throws are made. First season win on the line for both teams. Now it's Atkins, Austin, Dolson, Samuelson, Vanloo. Earl quick 2 and the D squad is back in for a redux. Ki misses the first and it's a 2-pt game with 7.6 on the clock. Timeout. 3 squad in. Austin takes on Brink but cannot get a shot off or a whistle. 68-70 Sparks Very good game. Very tough loss. We will need to get to the 4th with a big cushion to win it seems.

Edwards was the difference maker today. Impressive as. DC shot 42%, LA 47% Hamby with 16 defensive boards. I guess that's how you win with 24 team turnovers.

[ahoysteviex]

The Blog #3

Okay y'all. I'm back. Third blog.

I'm still sick. Yesterday I felt better even tho I still have a little bit of a cough and I'm snotty. But today my stupid throat hurt real bad. I drank some hot chocolate (even tho I know milk bad for your throat) but the warmth helped a little.

Anyways, I only worked, like, two days last week because I was too sick to go in most of the time :') but I went in on Saturday which was supposed to be my actual day off to make up some hours because I know my check is about to be GARBAGE and I felt a little better that day.

And!! Because both Hawk and Ciggy were hanging that day, I got to do electrical!!!! I've wanted to try electrical for a while so I was so frickin' excited to get to do it all day.

Also, when I found out about that, I went and stood by Hawk for a second because she was hanging at that station and I just kind of looked at her and didn't say anything. And she immediately was like "You're gonna have to go see Reek because-" LIKE IMMEDIATELY DEFENSIVE and I just laughed and was like "I'm just fucking with you dude, I'm not hanging today." Like I pranked her. I was acting like I wanted her to move out of my spot and then I told her HAHA I'M NOT EVEN WORKING THERE TODAY LOL. I'm such a prankster. I walked away before she could respond, so I don't know if she took offense to this.

Anyway, working in electrical was AWESOME. I love it so much. Basically, you take the stuff that's been donated that needs to be plugged in, uses batteries, needs to be charged, etc. and you test them to see if they work. If they work, you price them and put them out on the floor. If they don't, you send them to the outlet. It was super fun getting to plug in lamps, put bulbs in them to see if they work, plug in power strips, fans, flat irons, curling irons, all sorts of stuff! And I got to test stuff with batteries too, like fake candles. Ooh I got to test a TV! Someone donated a Roomba, but it didn't have the charging base so we outleted it. Plus, my manager who was training me (we'll call her Grams) told me that whenever they put a Roomba out on the floor, people turn it on and play with it and then leave it on so the Roomba is going all over the store lmaooo. There were a LOT of lamps. I didn't realize how much I like screwing in lightbulbs.

Also, someone donated a Wii and a bunch of Wii stuff. Like, those little steering wheels and a nunchuck and shii. But there wasn't a sensor bar or a regular remote? And no HDMI or anything. Wait.. I don't think Wii used HDMI. It had the three cables for audio/visual. What are those called? Fuck if I know. Anyways, they probably donated it instead of selling it because it was missing that stuff. But a place probably would've taken the little steering wheel controllers. There was also a PS4 remote control. Like, the TV looking one. That was kinda cool. And then also there was a DualShock charging station which was really cool! I almost wanted it, but then I remembered that.. I have a PS5 now.

Speaking of which! I need another DualSense controller. I have a few games I wanna play with my partner, but I need a second controller. Like, It Takes Two and uhhh Unraveled. Overcooked! She gets stressed out with Overcooked teehee but I think it's fun. We both love gaming, but we like such different games that we never really play together very often. She doesn't like online multiplayer like I do, so we don't play my Big 3 together. The Big 3 are as follows in no particular order: Overwatch, Apex Legends, and Dead by Daylight. She hates DBD, Apex isn't visually appealing to her and she doesn't like battle royales. I got her to play a little bit of Overwatch, but she's just not into it. She likes Dark Souls, which I hate. She also like CoD zombies, but I'm just not that into it. I don't know why. I usually like round-based survival stuff like that, but I think the military visual style is boring. And I don't really like the guns either. Just not my thing. Otherwise, she likes single player games. And Rocket League. Which I've never played, but cars are boring and soccer is only fun irl.

Sooo... not much for us to play together unfortunately. She was into Crash Racing for a bit, but the characters and art style are so ugly to me that I didn't want to play. Plus she was legit tilting at it and I was like.... I don't wanna play a racing game that's that hard.

HOWEVER. She just got a new Switch a few days ago and it's an ACTUAL Switch, not a Switch Lite, which means we can play together! I really want to play MarioKart 8 because I love that game and also I'm good at it and I will beat her into the ground. I'm only good on 150 CC tho. 200 fucks me up. And I have to have the rail guard thing on. BUT OTHERWISE I'M SUPER GOOD I SWEAR. Also also I have Monopoly, Risk, and Trivial Pursuit so we'll be able to play that. :) I hope I'll be able to get Super Mario Party for us to play. And eventually I wanna get my own Switch so we can maybe play Splatoon!

Speaking of Splatoon, what's up with that? I only played some of the first one. How are the 2nd and 3rd different? Why did there have to be a 2nd and 3rd of a multiplayer online game? Splatoon players pop off in the replies.

I used to have a Switch Lite, but the left joystick got kinda fucked up? Like, it didn't have drift, but it didn't really sense when I was pushing it forward? Like, I had to REALLY push that bitch for my Animal Crossing/Dreamlight Valley characters to run. Shit was annoying and was the primary reason I stopped using it. So I sold it. And the shop I sold it to didn't notice it I guess? Like, I guess they realized there wasn't drift and that was good enough.

I feel kinda guilt about it. But I must live with this burden.

[gameringgungke]

i want to play modded terraria again but that would also mean having to play modded terraria again

[thequeenofsodor]

Rebecca.

OOOOH HO HO HERE WE GO I like Rebecca a lot. I think the way they implemented her into the show was clumsy at best, but I’m of the opinion that on paper at least, she’s a great presence among the cast. I love her optimism! And, honestly the fact that they put a streamlined Bullied Pacific into the show to begin with was enough to steal my heart. Its a class I’d wanted in the show for a long time, basically as soon as I learned that it existed and what its history was. The fact they introduced her as essentially Gordon’s understudy and poised her as the second Express Engine was also something that appealed to me, and given how often the concept came up in fanon, I’m sure it would have been to most other fans if it weren’t for all the BWBA about it! Last but not least, I have a soft spot for all the girl engines in general, probably a result of Underlying Gender Stuff on my end, haha. I’m going to be extremely controversial and say that even though the livery is stupid, I think it’s fine. Well, that’s a lie actually, I’d want to fix it by removing the stupid NWR lettering on the tender and putting her number there in its place. But otherwise... I’ve tried coming up with so many alt liveries for her (most of which are just the actual Bullied Pacific paint scheme but in Yellow/Red) but none of them feel quite right. I might not be trying hard enough I suppose, but I think the weird sunrise/sunset colors work. It might also be that I’m being biased because it reminds me of like, a bizzaro version of the Southern Pacific Daylight livery though, which is very striking and cool. I wouldn’t say her design is “good” overall, especially considering her CGI Model is a hot mess of reused assets and wonky proportions, but I think that overall, the yellow is not irredeemable.

I also feel like her episodes were somewhat stunted by the fact she never really faces any kind of harsh adversities. She wins Gordon’s respect basically over the course of her first day, and her first outing with the Troublesome Trucks is a subversion for the sake of subversion that feels very much like an unfinished rough draft. I feel like they wanted to go in a kind of a Squirrel Girl direction with her, where she comes out of any given situation the victor by being a genuinely nice person, but I think she needed to be put in some more compelling or dangerous conflicts for that to really work. I want to see her put into a real crisis! She would have been an excellent character to pair with Diesel for an episode, or really any other sufficiently antagonistic character. Hell, to go whole hog with the Squirrel Girl idea, why not have her defuse a DOTD-style coup by Diesel 10 just by talking to him and being a good friend? Really, I would have taken anything that was both exciting and funny, as opposed to... what we actually got.

I think a lot of people are dismissive of her just because she was a (seeming) result of the BWBA rebrand, and all that “rebecca and nia replaced henry and edward!! the woke feminist sjws are taking over!!!!” garbage. She’s not perfect in execution by any means but I think she has a lot of potential for dynamics and development that gets overlooked. I’ll need to remember to write up a bullet-points style HC post for her at some point because I have a good few of those, lol.

[dizzydizney]

Hello! For the October prompts 🎃🍂🍂

2. Apple scent and Umvie

Thank you so much for this! It's my first Umvie fic which is fun. I hope you like it. I cycled through all the seasons before landing on the actual theme haha. Consider it like a year in the life

Rated T for some swearing. 1476 words. (Read on ao3)

~

The changing seasons of Auradon was something Uma never could’ve imagined before.

The Isle never had much in the way of weather. It always seemed stuck on one setting. Cloudy, lots of fog, maybe some drizzling rain from time to time. Gray, gray, and more gray. And a lingering chill in the air that their patchwork jackets and threadbare blankets never seemed to manage to keep out.

She was amazed, she had to admit, to see how different things were her first year in Auradon. Every season ushered in a plethora of new experiences for Uma. Things to see, smell, touch, taste - it could get overwhelming. And with every positive new experience, there seemed to be something negative right behind it.

Winter was the worst. Uma hated being cold. And even with a brand new jacket - one that was lined, and didn’t even have any holes in it - and all the handmade knitwear her girlfriend could provide, the cold still seemed to creep in and chill Uma down to her very core.

Not to mention her sea legs didn’t help her much when it came to navigating icy sidewalks. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d slipped and fallen flat on her ass. But at least she always had Evie, Harry, or Gil by her side to help her back up. It also took all three of them to restrain her that time she was on the receiving end of a stray snowball during a snowball fight between some freshman kids on campus. She was pretty sure the kid got so scared, he pissed his stupid little snowsuit pants. That was pretty funny.

But when she returned to her cottage-castle with Evie, and Evie fixed her a mug of hot cocoa, and they were curled up together under a blanket by the fire, Uma could no longer find a reason to complain about the weather. 

Spring was a little better. The temperatures warmed up, so Uma didn’t have to worry about turning into a block of ice every time she went outside. And the steady buzz of bees going from flower to flower was strangely comforting. Reminded her of the sound of flies on the barges. They both signaled the arrival of new things for her. At least now it meant fresh seasonal fruits to try, rather than new garbage to sift through to see what she could make use of. Either way, it meant that she and the people around her would have something to eat.

It was the flowers she couldn’t stand. They smelled weird, and always made her sneeze. It got to the point where she didn’t even want to go outside anymore. But Evie informed her that they made a medicine to help with that. Of course they did, Uma thought. Auradon people had a cure for everything. Even things you’d never imagine to be a problem in the first place. But eventually the medicine worked its magic, and Uma could once again step outside without fear of an allergy attack.

Which led to many picnic dates with Evie. The two of them spent many an afternoon laid out on a blanket in a field of flowers, sipping lemonade and feeding one another fruity little desserts. Seemingly without a care in the world. And not a single sneeze either.

Uma found summer much more enjoyable. Hot weather meant more chances to go swimming, which of course Uma loved. Evie’s place had its own pool, so Uma spent most of her time there. But there were also visits to the lake, and different beaches to check out, which was fun. As long as she was near water, Uma was happy.

But she couldn’t be in the water all the time. And as it got later in the season and the temperatures kept rising, Uma started to find it unbearable. She started wearing her braids twisted up in a bun atop her head to keep them off her back, which helped a little. But even wearing the least amount of clothes she could get away with still felt like too much. Doing anything the least bit physical made her break out into a sweat. It took everything in her to keep from stripping naked and running into the nearest body of water to cool herself off. 

The solution to that problem, it turned out, was giving into her impulses and just… doing it. Only, at night. With no people around. It was Evie’s idea, surprisingly enough. She’d suggested a midnight swim at the lake, just the two of them. Of course Uma was in. But what surprised her was Evie stripping completely naked before jumping into the moonlit water. Uma had rushed to do the same before joining her girlfriend.

It was a perfect way to cool off. Before things heated up again. 

Against all the ups and downs of the other seasons, Uma would say that autumn was her favorite. She got to experience every kind of weather and temperature without going to any extremes. She liked watching the bright green leaves turn colors before shriveling up and falling off. It was fun to stomp on as many as she could when she walked, and listen to them crunch underfoot. People spent more time indoors, which meant she was less likely to run into anyone while out for a walk. She looked adorable in the fall wardrobe Evie helped her curate, if she did say so herself. And autumn also meant a new holiday called Halloween, which was apparently the only time of year where you could actually get away with pranking or scaring the spoiled Auradon kids.

What wasn’t to love?

Well, okay, Uma could think of a couple things.

Pumpkin spice was one of them. She just didn’t see the appeal. What was it about fall that begged for everything to be pumpkin flavored? Pumpkins were good for taking a big knife and carving scary faces into them, but they tasted like shit. And whatever “spice” was added in certainly didn’t help.

Apparently having pumpkin spice cupcakes, donuts, cookies, custard, and mousse wasn’t enough for the people of Auradon. They’d even turned pumpkins into a liquid and served it up as a hot drink. Even just hearing about that concept was enough to make Uma’s stomach churn.

The other thing Uma didn’t get? Apples. They were always available in grocery stores, so it wasn’t like they were a rarity that only came around once a year. She might’ve understood the hype if they were poisoned apples, but that wasn’t even the case. As soon as there was a slight chill in the air, the Auradon kids were falling all over themselves to get their hands on some apples. Even going so far as planning apple orchard outings, where they got dressed up to go pick their own apples, just so they could take pictures of themselves doing it and post them to social media and let everyone know they did it. Seemed like such a waste of time to Uma. She’d much rather pick some up at a shop and spend the rest of her day doing literally anything else.

Like watching a scary movie while curled up on the couch with her girlfriend.

Well, it was what passed for a scary movie in Auradon. Uma wasn’t very impressed by it, but Evie seemed to have a different opinion. If the way she startled at every cheap jumpscare was any indication. Uma did her best not to laugh, biting her lip when Evie turned in her arms to bury her face in her neck in order to avoid looking at the screen. Uma was about to make a snide remark, when she caught a whiff of something.

The same something that had been filling her nostrils for the last month or so. The smell of everyone’s second favorite fall flavored drink. The scent that seemed to be filling every building in Auradon, thanks to everyone’s endless stock of seasonal candles and air fresheners. The same smell that every other Auradon girl seemed to have incorporated into her arsenal of lotions, body mists, and anything else it could be crammed into.

Uma leaned down closer, breathing in the familiar scent and hugging Evie a little closer. “New shampoo?” she asked softly.

Evie nodded her head, peeking up at Uma. Seemingly thankful for the brief distraction from the movie. “Mhmm. Apple…” she murmured, a small smile on her face as she looked up at her girlfriend. “You like?”

Uma smiled back at her, before closing her eyes and breathing in deeply once more.

“I love…”

Funnily enough, Uma wasn’t even lying.

Evie always had a way of getting Uma to focus on the positives. Or rather, it was hard to focus on anything negative when she had Evie by her side.