#i will hit you with a banjo

[cyanidecyanidecyanidecyanide]

I AM ON A MISSION TO HIT EVERY SINGLE PERSON IN THE TUMBLR TPC COMMUNITY WITH A BANJO

if YOURE in the tumblr tpc community and would like to be hit with a banjo comment on this whimsical little post

[hopeinthebox]

tagged by my beloveds @cordiallyfuturedwight and @aprylynn for the july list <33 i'm terribly afraid the glen powell of it all got to me this july and thus..

you can find this country music for beginners playlist here and check out lizzy's guide to the delicate art of making a playlist for a breakdown from yours truly if you feel so inclined <33

tagging my musical favs if they haven't already: @thvinyl @kimtaegis @jihopesjoint @visionsofgideontheninth @hoseeok @eoieopda @monismochi <333 and your lovely self reading this also

[aparticularbandit]

meanwhile sonic x shadow generations will probably be my birthday present to myself.

specifically i plan to preorder this because what do you mean i can get gerald robotnik's notebook on creating shadow and the ark

[some-pers0n]

Quite unfortunate that Sir Sebastian Bastard, one of Will Wood's beloved rats, has meddled with Will's distributor's office and now his official discography playlist that I listen religiously to is messed up

[tj-crochets]

Crafting (and general) update! - the pride bee fundraiser raffle is only three ko-fi donations away from having two winners instead of one!  - the sharpies I was waiting for arrived in the mail, so I’ll get started on the cat either tonight or tomorrow. I’m excited to make Binx the cat a friend! I mean, the second cat won’t be staying at my house long, but still! - I learned about banjoleles and I really really want to play one. Idk that I want to own one (it will depend on what it sounds like and how expensive they are) but a banjo ukulele!!! I’m absolutely delighted to know they exist!

[nitw]

"i love you": ★☆☆☆☆

gifting a handmade snowglobe of your house and pair of winter gloves to your professional associate who doesn't even like holidays and then going home to visit your wife who gets mad at you because you forgot to give HER anything so you immediately return to your professional associate and save him from a krampus by hitting it in the head with a banjo: ★★★★★

[cricket-of-the-hill]

So what's the deal with Fiddleford McGucket? Why's he like that?

Fiddleford as a character is so FUN because he's so complicated and tragic and honestly a little pathetic. On one hand you have this absolutely brilliant scientist with the potential to have been the in universe Steve Jobs who figured out that the universe is a hologram and built an honest to betsy transdimensional portal (with Ford's help, yes, but let's be honest: as mathematically brilliant as Ford was, I think his intelligence laid more in the theoretical side of things, really doubt he could have actually built the portal himself).

On the other hand, we have this man who up and leves his FAMILY to chase after a college friend who calls him one day saying "hey, I'm out in Oregon building a portal to another dimension. Little help?" and he doesn't even think twice before being like "bet" and getting his ass to Oregon. And even if you take in the context clues that things weren't going well with his marriage before he left (as pieced together by the brilliant @divorcedfiddleford in this post), he still had his son and McGucket Computermajigs and he just sets all that aside for this guy, which... 😶

I am gonna write this whole post on the assumption that Fiddleford was in love with Ford, but look, even if that's the case it doesn't make any of his actions less unhinged. Break here, because the post gets kinda long 😶‍🌫️

So here's the thing: in the fandom, it's fun to think that Fidds knew about Bill and they had some sort of taunting rivalry/love triangle thing going on and that's really fun to mess with, but FIDDLEFORD HAD NO IDEA ABOUT BILL. Ford never told him! So even if Fidds leaves California thinking he's gonna have his hot girl summer/queer arthouse romcom where he reconnects with the love of his youth and they spend the summer working in this secluded house in the woods where they can finally live out their romance, what he actually gets is a fucking psychological horror thriller where the guy he loves and is kinda trapped with is either slowly going insane or straight up getting possessed.

Now, all that is 😵‍💫 enough, but it gets worse because instead of doing the normal person thing and getting the hell out of Dodge, Fiddleford stays. He continues to help Ford to build the portal despite how weird the other man is getting, he continues to go cryptid hunting even after the nightmare goblin almost eats him, even if Ford clearly doesn't appreciate the work he does (research assistant? Not even partner? Come on), and never reciprocates the kind of gestures Fidds has towards him (like the infamous double Christmas gift bonanza).

Here's where the duality of Fiddleford Hadron McGucket kicks in: the thing is that he is incredibly brave in some ways and obviously really smart but also kind of a coward and an idiot when it comes to his relationships with others. He'll hit Thee Krampus upside the head with his banjo one day to save his friend and run away to Oregon instead of discussing divorce with this wife the next. He will leave everything he knows to pursue this one guy, but he will never ever ever confess to feeling anything other than friendship towards him. He'll put up with Stanford's creepy as all hell behavior but will never confront him about it even as Ford loses more and more of himself into his project (so no little intervention not even to help this man he's giving so much up for). Like, what was he expecting to get out of all this? If he was never planning to confess to Ford or leave his wife, what was he going to do once the portal was completed? Just keep on bouncing between wherever Ford went next and his family? Did he really think his wife and son wouldn't mind him leaving them behind without so much as a thought?

Operating under the assumption that Fiddleford is a closeted queer guy from rural Deep Down South Hillbilly County Tennessee (said with love, I'm also from the south, but we all know what homophobia looks like here) during the '80s (height of the aids pandemic which would have made everything worse) one can maybe understand why Fiddleford is like that. Why he is so so so afraid and why he ultimately chooses to erase his memories rather than just go back to his family.

So picture this: you are in love with your best friend but you can't tell him 'cause best case scenario he leaves you out to dry and worst case scenario maybe someone finds your boots down by the river and lets your parents know (and we know Ford is sweet and fruity himself and with a thing for outcasts and would never. Fiddleford probably knows that himself, but let me tell you that when you grow up with that fear it goes deep. Because you've most likely seen people who are kind get absolutely bent out of shape when confronted with the mere idea of someone like you existing in their near vicinity). Eventually, you get married and have a son because that is what you were supposed to do all along and even though you love your son and maybe even love your wife everything feels wrong. They expect you to be something you are not, you can never let your guard down, never be yourself, not even in your own home. So then that call comes and it's like a golden thicket: you can leave, give it a rest for a little while, go see your friend, stretch out those inventing muscles.

As much as the fandom clowns him for it, I honestly don't even think he went out there with the intention of cheating (emotionally or otherwise). BUT I do think he was hoping something would happen. It's just that it all depended on Ford taking that first step because Fidds sure as hell wouldn't. And then Ford didn't because he was too busy doing the sin cos tan with his trigonometry homework, but if he had, we could have had a brokenback mountain situation on our hands, lads. Then Fiddleford could have just gone along with it, and done all sorts of mind parkour to convince himself that that's somehow less bad than "outright" cheating on his wife.

So he gets to the cabin, right? And maybe things are good for a little while, like when they were in college. Fiddleford lets loose a little, Ford is happy with the company, they're friends! And I get the sense that they're the kind of friends that mesh really well, like their energies really match. As much as the fandom paints Fiddleford like a sweet cinnamon roll, that man is also a freak. He's out here building psychotic post divorce revenge pterodactyl robots and drinking abducted cow milk just to see what it's like. He's a bit unhinged! He and Ford are the two people in the world that can be like "I think the universe is a hologram." "Cool! Let's prove it mathematically, bro" and "I want to build a portal to another dimension. Just cause." "Catching a ride to your place with my toolbox as we speak, buddy." (My own personal head cannon is that Fiddleford didn't really become such a shaky jelly until the nightmare goblin got him. Like, he was never as adventurous as Ford, but I think before that particular traumatizing event he was all right for it).

Anyways, things are good for a bit, but the real world is still out there. Fiddleford has to make trips home every now and then, and every time he comes back it seems like something is different. A little off. At first it's nothing big, just a smile a little sharper than usual, a coldness in a look, Ford calling him "Specs" where before he was always a variation of his name. Then it's pointed comments that Fidds chalks up to a lack of sleep (is Ford even sleeping at all? Because he could have sworn for the past three nights he he has appeared in the same place Fidds left him when he went to sleep). Then it's a flash of yellow eyes, a maniacal laugh that Ford never used to make before, spells where he seemingly forgets how to use his body (bumps into things, tries to drink soda with his eyes?). As time goes on it starts to become more and more obvious that something is seriously wrong with this friend. And things back home are just getting worse and worse, Emma May isn't happy about Fiddleford skipping town so often, Tate wont stop asking for him, and look, was Fiddleford even making money while he was with Ford? He gettin' paid? Is Emma May back home trying to bring home the bacon while virtually single parenting? (How was Ford even supporting himself while studying anomalies? I can't imagine there's a lot of grants for that.)

But Fiddleford can't leave his friend and he can't really own up to how much messier things are at home because of this whole thing. So he keeps coming back to Gravity Falls, where he also can't really face up to Ford and either demand a clear answer as to what is going on or try to get him some help (an exorcist, maybe). Because if he does say something and Ford decides that he doesn't want Fiddleford around asking questions he's gonna have to go back home where after the Christmas thing he's honestly not sure he's really wanted anymore, not really sure he deserves it if he still was. So he keeps on doing his thing, telling himself "this is fine 🙂," while he sits in a room on fire with a bill-possessed Ford hanging from the ceiling like a spider and an disapproving Emma May looking in through a window.

I think the portal incident was what finally opened his eyes to the reality of his situation, in an ironic way. He destroyed his relationship with his wife and left his son for nothing. Left his own dreams and aspirations aside just to find out that when push comes to shove his opinion and well-being matter so little to this man he was ready to break the laws of physics for. He can't stay with Ford, and he sure as hell can't go back home, because that would mean having to face that he's done burned down all his bridges. So where do you go from there? Let me tell you, if I had the chance to forget the lowest, most selfish, stupid thing I did for a person who didn't even notice it, I'd do it in a second.

[thematpatcu]

So uh,,, just gonna let this go here,,,

Off Night

BillxFordxFiddleford

Silly eepy time fic I made in a cold sweat trust

“Specs really is tired tonight, huh? Must be tiring being worked down to the bone.” This again. Bill had already gone through this whole conversation 30 minutes ago, and Ford thought he had dropped the issue by now.

‘He’s fine, Bill, he’s probably just having an off day.’ It happens to the best of us, and if anybody can pull through this, it’s him and Fiddleford. They’re not like everybody else, they can achieve anything they put their minds to, as long as they’re willing to put in the hours.

“Off night.” For a moment, Bill sounded cross, but he quickly returned to his usual cheery demeanor. “It’s almost midnight, Sixer. Don’t tell me you’re losing track of time again.”

‘We’ve worked longer.’

Right as he heard Bill sigh, Fiddleford spoke up. “Stanford..?”

“Hm? Yes, Partner?”

He was avoiding eye contact with him. “‘S been a long night, and I oughta get home soon-“

“But we’re so close to hitting the next big break on the portal!” Stanford shot him a desperate look, “Please, Fidds, just five more minutes…”

Fiddleford fidgeted with his hands, a wobbly smile appearing across his face, “Right, I know, but, portal’ll be there tomorrow, won’t it? Plus, I gave ya five more minutes…” He shrunk in on himself, mumbling now, “thirty minutes ago…”

‘Can’t believe you’re making me do this, IQ.’

“Do what?” Before Fiddleford could ask why he just asked that, Stanford slumped against the desk, rising back up with yellow eyes.

“Alright, Mr Inventor, I’ve heard ya loud and clear!” He stood tall, hands at his hips, grinning unnaturally wide at the hillbilly.

“Bill..?”

“The one and only! So, ol’ Sixer won’t let ya sleep, huh?” He cocked his head to the side, his smile turning more cocky.

Fiddleford looked down, to his left and right, anywhere that wasn’t Bill’s face. “Oh, it ain’t like that..”

“I can tell when you’re lyingggg, smart guyyyy!” He crowded into Fidd’s personal space, looming over him like he always did.

“If Stanford wants us to stay up… I will. ‘S what you do when ya care fer someone.” He was doing that whole starry-eyed look again. Bill was starting to notice it on the hillbilly more and more.

It was disgusting. He hated it. “You’re going to bed whether I have to make you or not.”

Fiddleford crossed his arms, turning to face him in his chair head on. He stared Bill in the eyes, a determined (if tired) look on his face. “Make me, then.” Bill hated that look, the inventor had used it on him before and it made Stanford’s stupid body get all warm and jumpy every time.

His voice was low when he found it, “Careful what you wish for, Specs.” Bill lunged at Fiddleford, but missed, allowing him time to slip away and run off into another room of the house. “YOU CAN RUN, BUT YOU CANT HIDE!” He knew he wouldn’t go easy if he had egged him on, but the face Bill makes because of it is worth it every time, even if he’s very certain he’s going to die now. His hiding spot is good, sure, but the dropped pots and pans might have given him away.

Bill is close, he can tell. He can feel his presence looming closer. Bill slows his pace, tutting in front of him like a disappointed teacher. “I really expected better from you, Banjo.”

Fidd sighed, standing up, walking into the room, lit up by the moonlight shining through the window. One of the only ones that didn’t have Bill in it. Though, Fidd supposed, it’s got Bill in it right now. His eyes are in the reflection. “Ya really just want me to go to bed that badly?”

“Yep!” Bill took his hand, (er, more so his wrist,) dragging Fiddleford to his and Stanford’s shared room. He brought Fidd to the edge of the bed, slapping his back so hard he fell forward onto it. “Golly, ya fell real easy! Ahahaha! Just like how ya fell for Ford.”

“What was that last part?” Fidd looked at Bill, red as a cherry, but he was already gone. Stanford fell on top of him, completely knocked out cold. He tried to move the bigger man off of him as gently as he could, Stanford hitting the bed with a loud thud. He immediately started snoring.

Fiddleford chuckled to himself, got under the blankets, and fell asleep.

[idontego]

KAJI X READER- The Great Protector

Summary: The reader worries for Kaji as he prepares to go into a big fight in one day ahead of time. Did you make it in time to save him? You learn to always trust your intuition. Kaji mentally struggle to be the best he can be for his friends and doubts himself.

Warnings: blood? Potential spoilers…?

A/n: hope you enjoy this read! Requests are still open. I cant stop writing about him. He must be protected at all costs!

Kaji only wanted to have fun. He only wanted to protect his friends and the people that he cared the most for. His second greatest fear was letting his friends and you down and not by not being able to protect them. You always reassured him and so did his friends. “You’re so strong Kaji, you have a big heart. I know there’s nothing you can do that would ever disappoint them. you KNOW to count on them as much as they count on you. Do not go into this fight with negative thoughts. Stay true to yourself and do you part, that’s the only thing to worry about.” You said, on the brink of tears. If only he could how much he means to them and to you. He carries this baggage of wanting to be the great protector.

His first fear was turning into the person he used to be, which you would later find out that it ultimately became reality.

You were at home, worried what was to come. You just knew that something was going to go south. You always trusted your intuition. You couldn’t go 2 minutes without checking your phone, hoping this would all be over soon.

you paced around your room when all of a sudden your phone lit up.

You received a text from Hiragj. Your heart sank and you immediately picked it up and read:

“The bridge is almost cleared, i have to take care of something. You need to get here now, it’s Kaji. i’m taking care of Banjo, but the bridge should be cleared by the time you get here. Please help.”

You knew it. You knew something was going to happen. You were already dressed and all you grabbed was a back pack that had a first aid kit and water. You ran. You tan as fast as you could. You were relentless to get to him. To get to Kaji. You didn’t know what you were about to walk into and it didn’t matter. Tears ran down your face as the wind from your pace pushed them back even further.

you got to the bridge to see bodies all over it. Most of them still breathing.

You paused when you saw Kaji laying in the middle of the bridge, completely still. ‘no, no, no, no.’ you thought to yourself, sprinting towards him.

You got to him and fell to your knees tears running down your face, still. You grabbed his hand and the other was behind his head. You were delirious, it didn’t feel real. He was still breathing.

“HELP ME, SOMEBODY HELP ME PLEASE!!” you cried out leaning over his body, sobbing.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?! HOW COULD YOU?!” releasing gut wrenching cries. You couldn’t breathe. Catching your breath was not in the question. You’ve never said anything so loud and so clear until now.

“y/n?” you heard a familiar voice. Kaji spoke to you.

“Kaji, Kaji, what happened?? it’s going to be okay, i’m okay too”

“i-i don’t know what happened. Why are you here? You do not need to be here right now, please leave before someone comes. I don’t know if i can even defend you right now. I’m so sorry. I failed.” he said with his eyes looking down at your hand holding his. Then realization hit him. “I don’t know.. what happened? oh no. did i? oh no, no, no. i didn’t mean to!” he began to cry into your hand that was now cupping his face. You’ve never seen him like this before and it pulled on your heart strings even more. You want to cry with him, you want to console him- tell him everything is okay, but now you have to be strong for him.

“Kaji, it’s okay. I’m here. You did your best, you gave everything you had. It’s okay now, please don’t beat yourself up over this. Hiragi is taking care of the rest.”

“I lost. Hiragi saw what happened? are you serious?” he exclaimed. He began to hyper ventilate. “Where are my headphones?” He asked.

“You gave them to Kusumi, they’re right here.” You said, holding them up.

“And Yes, i’m afraid Hiragi did see what happened before i got here, but he is so so proud of you. You did what you had to do to protect your friends.”

“you didn’t see, right?” he said wiping his tears.

“No, baby i didn’t see.” you said, tightening the grip on his hand.

“Oh thank God..I’m- I’m so glad you’re here, y/n. Hiragi gave me all of these things, and all i did was make another mess of everything, including you.”

“Of course i’m here. i’ll always look after you, the same you do for me. I promise your efforts did not go unseen. I’m so proud of you and i cant begin to tell you how strong and courageous you are first this. I need you to stay here while i try to clean your wounds. I don’t know how hard you were hit and i don’t want you to pass out in an attempt to stand up, even if you could.”

he nodded his head and complied.

“I could never forgive myself if what just happened, happened in front of you. I can’t. I can’t go into further details, I’m sorry.” He said looking into your eyes as you cleaned his wounds.

“Whatever it could have been, could never make me hate you. I love you. You have me and other friends who care about you. You don’t always need to be the great protector.”

[melon-fodder]

Hi melon! Can I do prompt 13 with Hiragi please?

Oh, absolutely you can get that prompt with this king 💚 Obviously aging up.

* slight manga spoilers (mentions a very damp hiragi from his fight with banjo).

You barely let him get through the door before you’ve attached yourself to him, face shoved into his cotton shirt as he raises a tired hand to stroke the back of your head.

“Why are you wet?” you mumble into his chest, and Hiragi chuckles.

“Took a little swim.”

You extricate yourself just enough to look up at him, at the bruises blooming on his face, the cut on his cheekbone, the swell of his lip. Seems like he took a few well-aimed hits along with that swim.

You pout, gently run a thumb over his colorful cheek, then start urging him to the bathroom. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

To your surprise, your boyfriend shakes his head. It’s been a long time since he’s argued with you about this, having gotten used to the ritual of you patching him up. You think he’s come to enjoy it actually, finally letting himself be babied for once in his life.

Not tonight, though.

“Can we just lay down?” he pleads. “I just… just need to rest. Need to hold you.” He all but whispers the last part, but you still catch it, and it still makes your heart burst for him.

So, instead of the bathroom, you lead him to your shared bedroom where you carefully peel off his shirt, hissing on his behalf when you see the purple blossoming all over his ribs.

“I’ll be fine,” he assures you, pulling you to the unmade bed once he’s stripped down to his boxers.

You’re in nothing but an oversized T-shirt—it’s pretty late, after all—which works out perfectly as Hiragi hikes your leg over his hip and rubs against you. It’s not uncommon for him to be a little riled up after a fight, in need of one last release.

You’re ready for it, ready for him, for his fingers dancing between your folds, coating your lips with your own slickness before he pulls himself from his boxers. You whimper when he runs his cockhead up and down your slit, admire the way his eyes screw shut when he starts to push inside of you.

He fills you to the brim, hips flush together, and you shiver when he lets out a shaky breath. You’re both still save for idle, tender touches—your fingers at the back of his neck, scratching at his hairline, his lips on your shoulder, moving as he confesses, “I was scared tonight.”

It sits in the thin air between the two of you, a rare admission. You don’t pry, don’t ask for him to elaborate. All you do is kiss the side of his head and remind him, “you’re here now. You’re here, and you’re safe.”

Hiragi nods, starts to mouth over the junction of your neck and shoulder, makes one last confession, “—don’t ever wanna let go of you,” —then starts rocking his hips, a slow rhythm that has you clutching him so tightly you just might add to his plethora of bruises.

He wouldn’t be able to let go of you if he tried.

[blogfullofemos]

That's NOT Music

*Ok so this is just a little headcannon event I believe would happen between Eddie and reader* Rated E for everyone.

Okay so hear me out... You and Eddie become the best of friends because "Your art is like SSSOOO out there and its scary you don't even dooo drugs man... Like not even a lick off a Mary-Wanna leaf." as Eddie so educatedly states. But when it comes to music.... Oh when it comes to music.

See Eddie is into Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, ANYTHING THAT CONSISTS OF BANSHEE WAILS FROM A GUITAR'S MOUTH!! But you.... YOU were into 'glam-rock'.

"A putrid stain resting on a dragon's shithole that when it farts. It sounds like Steven Tyler's iconic wail." as Eddie once again, states.

"Have you even listened to it? Like sit and fully give it a chance?" you push at him. Eddie stares at you with a dimpled smile but the light in his eyes, dim. Yeah he checked out before you even started. "EDDIE!!" you yell at him, highly annoyed by his blatant stubbornness.

"Aerosmith is sooo not-."

"Okay but have you heard of Bon Jovi?" you cut him off before he went on another 'fuck glam-rock' tangent. Eddie leans back and places his fingers on his chin, his music rolodex spinning as he scrambles for some semblance of a.... Bonjo? Banjo?

~~~

"THIS IS WHAT YOU CALL MUSIC?!!" Eddie yells, as he rips the earbud out of his left ear. Making the other pop out of your right ear, landing hard onto the kitchen counter and next to your CD player. "EDS!!" you exclaim, swatting his shoulder even harder.

"OUCHIE!!! Never would've guessed you were heavy-handed." he says rubbing the area you hit and leaning away from you. You check the earbuds, as they are sooo easy to break, and yup. The right one (the one Eddie had on) is barely audible. "This band is so mediocre. Simple chords, simple song-writing, and-." his voice dies off as you slowly look at him with dagger eyes. His brain quickly rendering his mistake. BUT!! He couldn't control it. It was just sooo. Natural. He bites his index finger as he gives puppy eyes "Whoops." he winces.

~~~

So now, Steve and Eddie go for a night drive in Steve's beat-up convertible. The radio lowly playing whatevers popular to the masses, as they both share a doobie. Eddie listening to Steve deciphering the female mind out loud when a hint of a guitar sound peeks through. "HOLD ON!!" Steve yells, turning the volume up so the guitar riff plays stronger.

Eddie knew, from the beating you gave him afterwords, that this was Bon Jovi. Steve taps onto the steering wheel "ITS ALL THE SAME, ONLY THE NAMES WILL CHANGE!!" Steve sings along as Eddie whips his head to the betrayal he was hearing.

"EVERYDAY IT SEEMS WE'R-!!" Steve continues giving little looks and egging Eddie to sing along.

"No.. No FUCKING way man."

"WHERE THE FACES ARE SO COLD!!"

"NO STEVE!! THIS IS HOW THEY GET YOU, THEY TRY WITH THESE-!!"

"COME ON HELLFIRE I NEED A BACK UP!! I'M A COWBOY!!"

Eddie bites his bottom lip because FUCK!! Not like this... Please to the Iron Maiden artwork Gods.. Not... Like... "DEAD OR ALIVEEE!!" they both belt.

"FUCK YEAH MAN!!" Steve exclaims, stepping on the gas pedal as Eddie hides his face in utter shame.

Look at what you've done. Now he's definitely going to force you to listen to Metallica.

[nights-flying-fox]

Gentle Hands I Don't Recall

Chapter 1: There's Something Wrong/ With Somebody Like Me

Leo, during the time he is in the Prison Dimension, loses his memories. He gets saved, but is he still "Leo" when he can't even remember who these masked faces are?

Welcome to GHIDR, hope you enjoy this new au me and Robbie ( @mostlyvoid-partiallyturtles ) are writing!! First of all a big shoutout to @oddpocalypse for this idea!! Another big shoutout to Banjo @little-banjo-frog for the name!!

We have been working on this au for a while... hope you enjoy it!!

ROTTMNT || 1505 words || Leo centric hurt/comfort amnesia au || click here for ao3 || GHIDR masterpost TBA

Thanks for reading!! <33 -☆ (Nighty)

Chapter title is from Good Morning by Two Door Cinema Club! -🛸 (Robbie)

   The first thing he felt was pain. The second thing he felt was cold. The third thing he felt– or rather noticed was the ringing noise.

He opened his eyes.

It took him a second to notice he was laying down. He was… holding a picture? What..?

…

Where was he? It was so dark and there were rocks and stuff all over the place. And who were these people in the picture? Why– Wet? His face was wet. Were these tears? Why was he—

“–pest!” As the ringing in his ear faded he heard the voice, and noticed the metal suit right in front of him. He barely managed to hold on to the picture as the metal fists hit him, sending him flying into…

 …into… he didn’t know.

 It hurt a lot.

 A sob escaped him. He wasn’t sure why.

 The picture. He didn’t know who they were but he pulled it close. The whole picture looked like a direct contrast of this place. Colorful people looking at him. Why..?

 He looked at the void. Who had hit him? His ribs hurt. Was it coming back? Were they coming back? Why…

 Why couldn’t he remember what he was doing here?

 His grip on the picture lightened. He didn’t remember anything. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, but he didn’t care. He…

 He was gliding in emptiness. He couldn’t remember. He…

 …

 Who was he?

 He didn’t know. This couldn’t be good. What…

 It was quiet and lonely. His attacker wasn’t around. He was still gliding in the emptiness. Wasn’t there anyone else that could help him? Was he… all alone?

 The thought terrified him. It felt wrong. 

 Why? Why was it wrong?

 Suddenly a bright, yellow light appeared in the middle of the void. It was close to him, and despite the pain he managed to turn and look at it.

 Three faces looked at him. Teary eyes grew big in disbelief when they saw him.

 They… they were the same people from the picture. Orange, purple and red. Where was blue? He wasn’t exactly sure why, but he was happy to see them. Maybe they could help him. Maybe they knew him. As if on cue, the red one took a step behind and did something that he wasn’t sure how to describe. He saw red one’s left arm shine in red and a hologram of it surrounded it. It, with powerful force, reached towards him. On instinct, he reached back. He didn’t want to be alone. Warm red light surrounded him and pulled him towards them. He let the grasp hold and pull, he didn’t have much power to fight back anyways. Nor did he want to fight back. Shock had left itself to determination, but suddenly he saw it shift onto fear on the three’s face. He saw where they looked. He turned, and saw it. Metal armor, bright red light.

 It… it was here to finish what it started, wasn’t it? To kill him?

 He looked back at the strangers. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t even know what was happening, where he was, and- who- who was he?

 He couldn’t die like that. Not without knowing who he was. He didn’t want to die, please. He didn’t—

 A purple hologram– a drill– passed by him and hit the pink face in the middle of the suit (he didn’t notice that before). Where did the drill come from? He looked back at the strangers, and realized it must’ve been the purple one’s doing. He heard the metal suit following him though. But he was so close to them. With one last quick, he was no longer gliding. Instead, he felt gravity and he fell onto the ground on his back. He groaned before opening his eyes. 

 The ground was cold, and he wasn’t floating anymore. Here– wherever here was– was warmer, nicer. The strangers were around him; the orange one was the last one to run towards him. They looked at him in worry. “Leo?”

 Leo? Who was that?  They all looked extremely worried. They all also were still watching him. It must be his name then. The longer he didn’t talk, the more worried they looked. They had just saved him– he didn’t even know why they did that! But he was grateful, and it stung to see them like this. They clearly knew him… and he must’ve known them. He had a picture of them, still in his hand. He… he didn’t want to worry them.

 “Hey guys.” He smiled. It must’ve worked because their faces turned to relieved ones and they pulled him into a tight hug. He barely heard one of them say “Come here!”. Everything hurt, but even though he couldn’t recognize them, he had to admit this was nice. Much better than being punched. He relaxed a bit. They knew him, and they for certain cared for him. He might not remember or understand anything, but it was definitely better than being beat up in a void by a metal suit. What even was that thing?..

 “Leo,” He heard the big, red one talk. Leo, right, that was his name. The big guy continued, “Never do that again.”

 Oh, what had he done that this guy was about to cry? He’d figure it out eventually… hopefully. “I won’t, you can be sure I’m never doing that again.”

 “Good, because…” Red sniffed. “I… I’ll… ah, who cares. You’re back and safe now.”

  “And we’re never letting you go. Ever!” Orange chirped in.

 Purple was silent, but he felt his and everyone’s hug get tighter. It was a bit overwhelming, and his… everything hurt, but it felt nice. It felt safe.

 “I’m fine with that.” He responded to the orange one. His mood changed once he started coughing though. It hurt to cough, and it took a bit for it to stop. The familiar strangers called his name, and they were worried again. They became even more worried after he stopped and whined in pain.

 “Is that… blood?” Orange whispered in fear.

 He hadn't noticed he had shut his eyes. Opening them, he saw it. It was indeed blood, and that couldn't be good.

 “Donnie.” Said the red one. A new name? Who?

 “On it.” Purple one answered. So he was Donnie. Good to know. Donnie put on his goggles, and with one hand on them he stared at him. What was he doing? Donnie pushed the goggles back to his head. “He needs medical attention immediately.”

 He didn't like how this sounded.

 Red grabbed them all (he was really strong…) and got on his feet. “We need to go back home!”

 “You can't run all the way back from Staten Island, Raph.” Donnie said. Another name. Raph was the red one… All he was missing was the orange one's name.

 “What do we do then? We hafta do something!” Raph yelled. Ow. His head hurt…

 “Shh, he must have a headache guys!”  Orange one said, (rather loudly, in his opinion).

 He groaned. “Thanks.”

 “Guys!” A girl's voice was heard from Raph's… wrist thing? “Guys? Can you hear me?”

 “April!” Raph gasped. April? He heard sobs faintly coming from the device.

 “Raph? Are you guys okay? Is Leo–”

 Raph brought his arm closer to himself. “Leo's with us, but he's injured!”

 “Leo's with you?!” April shouted. Why was she so surprised? Wasn't he supposed to be with them? He also heard a loud gasp coming from the device.

 “Splinter! He's with them!”

 Splinter? So many people…

 There was a second of quiet.

 “Blue? My son?” He heard a trembling voice coming from the device. He didn't understand until he realized everyone was looking at him. Blue was also his name, okay… And… son?.. His head hurt so much– “Blue?” Splinter (he guessed) called again.

 “I'm here.” He quickly said.

 “My son…” A sob responded. Son– he– he forgot… he forgot his dad. He wasn't sure if he felt sick because of how much everything hurt or because he didn't remember having a dad. The man sounded so heartbroken. He gritted his teeth, “I'm fine… dad.”

 “You're injured and need medical attention!” Orange glared at him.

 “Y-yes, my son. Hold on. We'll help you.” Splinter said. “Boys, where are you?”

 “Staten Island.” Raph answered, and by his side Donnie shivered.

 “Ugh– okay. April–”

 “I got this. We can meet. I-”

 “Sensei?” Another voice, small yet clear, came from the device.

 “Casey? Are you alright?” April called. So the guy who sounded like he had cried was called Casey. All this information has been making him dizzy. Or was it the pain? The pain was kinda numb though. So was it really that? He didn't exactly feel it…

 …

 He was getting sleepy…

 “Leo?”

 And it was nice. Raph sure was good at hugs… Good to learn…

 “Leo, open your eyes!”

 But he was so comf– oh when had he closed them?

 “Leo!”

 He couldn't fight it. The sleep… it felt… nice… 

 …

[bump1nthen1ght]

Worship of a Maiden (F!Reader x M!Satyr)

Pairing: Fem!SoftDom!Reader x Sub!Male!Satyr

Genre: Established Relationship, Domestic, Fluffy Smut

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1361 words

Summary: Your lover does so much for his community, holds so much weight on his shoulders. It only makes sense that you’d take that weight off once in a while

Request: Hi there! I wanted to make a request for a soft femdom reader x male satyr please, if you're interested. Featuring praise, using his horns as handles during cunnilingus, and a titjob as a reward for pussy well ate. Thank you for your time.

On a long day of doing nothing, nothing hots better than an afternoon nap.Especially in your grove, where the sun hits it perfectly at its peak, warm yet not oppressive between the overbrush. The grass feels like a heated quilt against your back, the sound of fresh water trickling from the stream nearby.

You were only asleep for 40 minutes, just letting your eyes rest for a moment in peace. You’re half-awake when Lyterius starts kissing your neck, his stubble scratching against your jaw.

“Hello Handsome.” You yawn, arms stretching as your back arches. Lyterius doesn’t answer, instead nuzzling his neck into the gap of your shoulder and neck. Your hands find their place in his thick curls, rubbing gently into his scalp. “How is everybody?”

Lyterius groans, nuzzling deeper into your neck.

“The council still giving you trouble?”

Calling them a ‘council’ is a bit of a stretch, as the gathering of satyrs is more like a town-hall, with no official leaders or strict procedure, and a lot more wine and drugs.

Lyterius, as one of the older satyrs, often had to wrangle everyone together, make sure that the satyr's connection with nature and Pan was still flourishing. That the young ones weren’t getting too rowdy and forgetting their duties to the forest.

It was a heavy duty for a man who’d much rather be fishing and playing his banjo, a burden that wore him down.

You don't need a direct answer from Lyterius to know he was stressed, that he needs someone else to take the reins for a bit.

Your hands knot tighter into his hair, and kiss his cheek with force. He becomes like honey in your hands.

“Please…” Lyterius moans, “Let me taste you, mistress.”

“Such a polite boy you are.” You kiss the corners of his lips, pulling away as he chases you for more. He likes the chase, the temptation, even if he whines like a brat sometimes..

You shimmy backward on the grass, letting your legs spread and your linen dress fall to the side. Your pussy is bare, already beginning to slicken from Lyterius’s debaucherous gaze.

“Come here, baby. Serve your mistress.”

Lyterius falls to his stomach like a devout man of prayer, scrambling to slot himself between your thighs. His short tail begins to twitch and wag behind him, his calloused hands groping up your ass.

You let your head fall back to the grass as Lyterius takes a whiff of your heated sex, his body trembling as his tongue flickers out of his mouth. His first licks against your lips are soft, too soft. Your hands wrap around the edges of his curled horns and yank him closer to your cunt. A throaty moan vibrates your pussy lips.

“That’s it, dearest. Eat me properly.”

Lyrerius throws himself into his work, drinking your slick like it's an oasis. He licks a long, flat stripe against your clit, groaning as your legs clench around his pointed ears. He sucks on the nub like it's a fresh nectarine, soaking up your contented moans and the taste of your cunt.

By now you’re practically dripping, Lyterius diving head first into your walls with a strong thrust of his tongue. It undulates and pushes, trying to find the most sensitive area. His nose grinds against your clit, and you yank his horns back and forth so it rubs it just the right away.

Your core flexes as your head throws upwards, mouth open lewdly as you watch Lyterius please you.

“Good boy.” You purr, hands rubbing the base of his horns, one of his most sensitive areas. “You always know how to please me, baby. I’d think you were a priest of Eros himself from the you worship me.”

You can see Lyterius eyes rolling backwards from behind his eyelids, a pleasant shiver running down his spine. Another soft spot of his is your sultyr voice in his ear, whispering praises.

His tongue finds it was to your g-spot, thrusting and fucking it with fervor. You bite your lip, using your grip to hump against his jaw.

“F-fuck, that tongue.” You arch your chest, pushing your tits together. “You were made for this, made to be between my legs, to be my baby.”

Lyterius groans into your pussy, his brow furrowing. You notice the movement behind, the way he’s begun humping into the grass. He won't come without your permission, but the friction must be tortuous.

“I’m gonna cum.” You pant, chest heaving. Your hands yank more on his horns, slick bursting into his mouth. Lyterius doesn’t slow down, letting you rice out till completeion. “Fuck, Fuck!”

Your pussy spasms around his tongue, legs wrapping him in a chokehold as your body shakes from the orgasm, Lyterius still licking like a good boy. It's only with a push of your hands that he detaches, trails of your slick spatter around his jaw, his tongue stuck out like a dog.

You take a few seconds to recover, Lyterius pressing hot kisses into your inner thighs as your high slowly fades into embers. Your gaze lazily sweeps down to your lover, whose attention you catch with a pat on his head.

“You’ve been such a good pet, I think you deserve a reward.” Lyterius eyes light up at the word, arms trembling as you pat your chest. He scrambles up eagerly, but he is gentle as he sits in your sternum, trying not to be disobedient despite his growing impatience. His cock theaps against your chest, flushed with blood and leaking precum.

“T-thank you, mistress.” Lyterius pants, sweat and your juices beading his neck. He worries his lips between his teeth as you press your tits together around his shaft, the tip poking out near your jaw. “Thank you.” He grits, hips trembling with forced stillness.

“You may move, pet. This is for you.”

Lyterius wastes no time, planting his hoofs into the grass and gripping onto the side of your tits. His hands envelop yours, and his furry torso begins to humo into your breasts' warm embrace.

“Oh, gods yes.” Lyterius moans, his cock sliding wasily between your tits, aided by your sweat and his precum. “Your tits are incredible, mistress.”

You simply nod, more focused instead on the head of his cock, still dripping and only inches from your mouth. You’re feeling extra generous, and stick out your tongue so that his cock hits it at the peak of every thrust. His whole body shudders.

“Please, may I come on your face, mistress?” Lyterius’ voice trembles, brain scrambling from your soft tits against his cock. You smirk, tongue pushed out longer as you nod again. Lyterius whimpers with joy. “Thank you!”

His thrusts are sloppy, desperate in chasing that high from earlier. The taste of salty cum dabs on your tongue and you can feel him getting closer with each thrust. Heavy balls slap against your under-boob, tight and full of cum. Satyr’s always cum buckets, even with their near limitless stamina, and your pussy throbs at the thought of being covered in it.

“Thank you, th-thank you!” Lyterius yelps as his hips stutter and shake, his cock pulsing as a hot jet of cum flies across your tongue, almost reaching the back of your throat. You just keep smiling, feeling ropes and ropes of cum flood your neck, lips, and cheeks. Lyterius hooves dig grooves into the ground as he rides the crashing wave, falling to the side when he’s finally finished.

—

He pants into the grass, enjoying the lingering dew on his sweaty back and neck as Lyrerius falls to the side. He heats a faint giggle near him, the warm hand of his love patting his cheek. She grabs a handful of water and splashes it over her face and neck, washing herself and her hands before she grabs another and gestures it towards his mouth.

“Drink, my love.”

Water trickles out of the side of his mouth as he sips, barely able to lift his head off the ground. She chuckled again, then slides into his side. She traces circles into his chest.

Truly, what a wonderful maiden he worships.

[in1-nutshell]

What would be Deadpool Megatron and Starscream's conversation when Starscream messes with Deadloop and Deadloop fights Starscream?

More dialogue coming up!

In a nutshell...

Starscream: "Forgive us for the delay Master. But it appears that some of us need more practice flying. A bit rusty after being out of commission." Deadloop giving Starscream a stink eye: "You clipped me Starscream. I wouldn't have hit that barn if you would have shut your cakehole and shoved--" Starscream: "You see this insubordination Master!" Megatron dragging his servo over his face: "The only thing I see are two Decepticon's who failed to get me the relic in time." Deadloop popping his subspace and grabbing the relic: "Not exactly." Starscream with widen optics: "But how?!" Deadloop gives him a sharp look: "Your as useful as a dented banjo when it comes to 'finding' missing relics." Deadloop passes the relic to Megatron. Megatron looks at the relic before turning to Deadloop: "Go to Knockout and get fixed up. You're leaving in 2 hours." Deadloop gives him a small bow before walking to the medbay and away from the pleas for mercy and the sound of metal clashing against metal.

[sweetpinkchampagne]

1:49 am

18+ readers only please lovelies!! (this is for a reason please listen<3)

little synopsis: coming home late after a stark party and stephen is tipsy and overly touchy...

pronouns: female pronouns are used

relationship: fem reader x stephen strange

note: hiiii gorgeous!! thank you for readingg. i literally cannot stop listening to hozier at the moment, stephen is SO hozier's music. like i just know he worships women like wholeheartedly at your knees as if you're an altar in a church.. on his knees in other ways.... dinner and diatribes is so stephen i highly reccomend!! (frothing, gnawing at the irons bars of my enclosure like a rabid animal) iykyk. stephen is such a sick fuck why is he so like dangerously heavenly like GTHRDJKSLA (if this is ur first interaction with me im so sorry im feral, this is a cult welcome cutie!! xx)

warnings: alcohol consumption, intoxication, making out while intoxicated, tony starks ego (we love him), smut while intoxicated (both parties) um a tiny little daddy kink... (say what...i know its not everyones cup of tea but i had tooooo) not proof read eek!

it was 1:49 am. a cool night swept over the city of new york, the stark tower bustling with celebrities and journalists. something tony called 'networking', a cleverly labelled excuse to blow money and get drunk.

you and stephen hadn’t planned to be out so late, but stark’s parties weren't exactly matinées, despite all of the dramatics. under usual circumstances your husband would portal the two of you home in order to avoid the paparazzi swarmed outside. the music was incredibly loud, expensive trays of sushi being passed out along other canapés. men and women around you holding crystal between their fingers in an attempt to appear elegant in a situation that can only be compared to a club setting. the walls were lined with signed records from famous musicans as well as technology tony had been tinkering with and developing, eyes drawn to these machines in awe, asking questions and flattering his already over-inflated ego. you looked to your left, spotting stephen’s suit blazer hung messily over a barstool. you laughed to yourself seeing him in his half-unbuttoned dress shirt clearly reliving his glory days at columbia, dancing and drinking. 

you thanked stark and waved goodbye to everyone, stephen slumped against you - his tall figure not exactly leaning against your shoulder, too drunk to open a portal coherently. you shook your head gently, heels clicking on the concrete as you began coaxing him into one of the of pre-called taxis, stretching out of the front of the stark tower. his suit blazer drapped over one of your shoulders. the paparazzi exploiting all who exited the building, asking questions as their camera flashes blinded you.

“greenwich village, 177A bleecker street please!” you hummed sweetly to the cab driver who nodded and smiled back, gently swatting stephens hand away as he mindlessly toyed with the hem of your already short dress.

"you look gorgeous tonight baby" he whispered, his hot breath against your neck, tickling. you giggled softly, your shoulder instinctively lifting to cover your neck, pushing him away.

"thank you stephen, you look so handsome.."

"oh yeah?" he smirked

"okay.. dont get too cocky" you laughed, leaning into his side, you looked out the window, the city lights looked gorgeous. people of all walks of life walking down the streets. families going to see musicals, a group of girlfriends going out and a pair of budding musicians busking on the corner, one man in suede with a banjo, the other a scruffy man playing the harmonica. stephen wasn't looking out the window, you felt his eyes looking down at you, smiling with adoration.

the sound of your purse landing on the sideboard of the sanctum entrance echoed off the walls. stephen was always a cocky man, but this heightened when he was drunk. you laughed softly as your back gently hit the wall of the entrance, an overly confident doctor cupping your cheeks, the smell of whiskey on his breath.

“been thinking of doing this all night..” his baritone voice whispered as his scarred hands snaked their way around your waist and his lips met the warmth of your neck. 

“you do flatter a girl stephen..." you gasped as he quickly turned you around, your chest pressed into the oak panelling of the sanctum entrance. you felt him harden behind you, pressing into your ass. you threw your head back, leaning into his shoulder as cold hands danced around your back, slowly pulling the zipper to your dress down as it effortlessly fell to the floor, bunched around your heels.

"stephen you're drunk...we should-.. sleep.." she gasped as his hands travelled down the length of her spine, gently.

"drunk and horny" he corrected, you could tell he was smirking by the way he delivered the words.

"please..." you whispered as he rolled up his dress shirt's sleeves to his forearms, his veins deliciously visible.

"please what baby? huh? you got an ache..??" he kissed the back of your neck, humming in contentment. you rolled your eyes, he had a thing about you using your words even when he knew what you wanted, where you wanted.

"i need you..." you turned around, looking up at him with big eyes as he looked down at you, without hesitation, he knelt down in front of you, pausing to look up at you before you nodded gently, he gently slid your panties off and then he grabbed your hips and hoisted you up around his waist, you gasped as his buldge made contact with your core, whimpering in his ear, pushing the photo frames and your purse carelessly off the sideboard before laying you down the length of the sideboard. you whined in anticipation, as he grabbed your ankles and pulled you down to him, standing at the end of the sideboard.

he walked back over to you, looking down at you as he tutted.

"desperate little thing arent you baby..? ive barely touched you..."

"stephen..dont torture me, dont be mean.." you pouted looking up at him as he bent down to passionately kiss your lips, standing back up before brushing his fingertips down your body, your neck, chest, stomach ending inches from your core. he knelt down at the end of the sideboard, delicately wrapping your legs around his neck before he kissed your inner thighs without warning.

"shit! stephen- i.." you threw your head back, back arching against the sideboard as you felt him smirk against your skin. his stubble burned your delicate skin. adding fuel to the already ignited fire. he chuckled lowly before adjusting you to move your cunt closer to his lips. he looked up at your expecting eyes with a gentle look, you nodded laying your head back down.

"fucking soaked..." he whispered deeply, admiring you. he was never one for a quick fuck, i mean he did it of course if you begged, if you had a place to be.. but it definitely wasn't his preference. he wanted to savour you, to fervently worship his wife. your thighs squeezed his neck impatiently huffing below him.

"dont be bratty baby, im just admiring my girl.." he warned lowly. without warning he left a long stripe between the folds of your pussy, you writhed under him as his tongue purposefully missed your clit. what felt like hours of slow, delicate licks led to an ache in your lower belly. his stubble burned your inner thighs, adding to the pleasure as you began to rock your pussy into his mouth, you felt him smirk as he placed one hand down on your lower stomach before sucking violently on your clit. you squealed in pleasure, your thighs weakly handing over his shoulder, shaking.

"god you taste divine, like fucking heaven. i worship you darling.." he whispered between your thighs, as if it were a secret, but he told you it everyday.

"stephen.." you whimpered as he sucked on your clit, his face buried between your legs.

"give it to me baby, make a mess for daddy.." you moaned loudly at the nickname, something you mistakenly whimpered one day in sex that made him choke on his words and look down at you. "m' sorry! i- i.. dont know where that came from" his eyes darkened looking down at you. "say it again fr' me, yeah?" your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he pounded into you faster than usual.

"daddy!" you gasped. clutching the drawers of the sideboard for support, your back arching as lewd noises of him eating you out filled the room. "jesus christ! fuck me." you screamed as you came on his tongue, he didn't stop. you shook from the overstimulation he cleaned you up with his tongue, your legs shuddered as he laid them down gently, leaning over your body, his palms resting on the sideboard as he looked down at you. it was pornographic the way his goatee glistened with your seed.

"you're going to be the death of me, you know that darling?" he smirked, cocking his head to the side as his eyes still ravaged your body before reluctantly looking back to your glossy eyes, you were gone, lost in a haze, chasing a high.

[novasintheroom]

144. Nervous

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 1.1k

♡ Warnings - none

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

The urge hits him on a random Tuesday.

There he is, minding his own business, on the way to the gunsmith to buy more bullets and maybe snag a donut somewhere along the way. Then there’s something shiny, on the ground, there. He picks it up – a button, probably popped off someone’s vest while they weren’t looking. It’s opalescent; it gives off a dull sheen of rainbow of colors on white when he moves it this way and that.

A small treasure, to be sure, but it hits him while looking at one of the four holes drilled into the button – this would be perfect for you.

He pockets it and goes on his way with a skip in his step.

He presents it to you later when you’ve met up outside a small Mom and Pop’s restaurant in town.

“Oh, pretty,” you hum, looking at it in the dying light. “Where’d you find it?”

“On the ground,” he says proudly.

You give him a smile. “Living up to your ‘birdie’ name, huh?” You slide it back across the table. You’re giving it back.

He pouts. “No, it’s for you!”

You raise your brows. “You…want me to sew it on something for you?”

“No, it’s just…” he struggles for words. It’s just meant for you. “Just keep it.”

“Vash, what am I gonna do with a button?”

He’s saved from answering when the waiter comes with your orders. He doesn’t see you with the button again after dinner. He’s disappointed.

The next time it happens, you’re both creeping through a bandit camp, trying to save a group of traveling merchants who got themselves tangled up in a deal gone wrong. The guards are none-the-wiser or knocked out, and the rest of them are sleeping off the alcohol they stole from the shipment. You just may get away with this.

Until a BANG goes off. The bullet misses his head by millimeters, the shell landing at his feet. The guard is yelling something, rousing the rest of the bandits to get up (albeit slowly and on wobbly feet), but his attention is on the bullet shell.

It’s shiny.

Quicker than he has time to process, he pockets the hot shell and grabs your hand, running through the camp.

Afterward, with the merchants saved and the bandit camp destroyed (by their own doing, no less), you’re both sitting by the fire, enjoying the sounds of celebration around you. The merchants have circled their carts, freely dancing to a banjo someone pulled out.

Vash thinks to bring out the shell. He palms it in his hand, lets it roll and glint on his fingers. Then, he takes your hand and puts it there.

You look at him strangely. “A bullet shell?”

Something in him withers at your look. But he manages to nod and smile. “Found it earlier.”

Your lips twitch upward. “On the ground, I’m guessing?”

Now he feels foolish. Nervous. What is he doing, presenting you with a bullet shell? A part of him cries that it’s too dull to be considered worthy. Another part wonders – worthy of what? His brain feels fuzzy; two parts of him fighting for a spot – logic, and whatever the hell is going on with him. He lets out a bashful laugh and looks down.

You hum, and he glances over as you roll the shell on your palm. You pocket it, and he doesn’t see it again. He’s disappointed.

The third time, Vash gets suspicious. In the middle of prying off a rare shiny nail from the inside of a derelict ship, he wonders, Is this a Plant thing?

He’s collected shiny things over the years. Lost them, hidden them, has a stash or two across the deserts. But he’s never considered giving them to someone. Not until you. He wonders what’s different. The nail is placed in his pocket as he returns to the small camp you’ve set up outside the ruins.

You’re working on something in your lap. You glance over at him and give him a smile before going back to your task. He sits nearby, eager to present the nail, but knowing it’s better to wait for your attention.

“Hey, look at what I made,” you say. Without preamble, you hold up your creation: a singular earring, a pearly button dangling from its chain. The pearly button, to be exact. “And – “ you hold up another earring – this one a bullet shell (the bullet shell) with a drilled hole, a golden hook weaved through.

Something blooms inside him. He isn’t sure what to call it. Reverence, perhaps. It grows into something giddy when you show him how the button looks on your ear. “Now we can match!...Sorta.” You purse your lips and wait for his reaction.

He reaches out and touches your ear lobe gently, fingering the chain and button. “I thought you didn’t keep them,” he says, quiet.

You shake your head. “I just didn’t know what to do with them for a while. Then I thought, ‘hey, I kinda know how to make jewelry, maybe I can do that!’ Voila!” You reach up and pinch the button. “Not as nice as your earring, but…”

“No!” He exclaims, taking your hands in his own. “They’re beautiful! You’re beautiful!”

The two of you stare at each other in bewilderment. Where did that come from? But you have grace, and with a smile, you say, “Well, thank you, Vash, that’s very sweet of you.”

Vash’s cheeks burn, and he laughs off the rest of his embarrassment. What is going on with him? Then he remembers the nail. His blush comes back. The logical part of him fights it. But the Plant part of him – whatever that means – demands he present it. So he does.

“Um,” he starts, scratching at his neck. “I…sorta found something for you in there.”

You smile, the button winking in rainbows against your cheek. “On the ground again?”

He laughs, “No, in the wall this time.”

“Ah, keeping me on my toes.”

He’s nervous again. He pulls out the nail. It’s slightly bent. He’d tried to straighten it out on the way back, but... “It’s…I mean, it’s shiny, and you don’t have to do anything with it, but…”

You take it from his outstretched hand. Hum. “I could probably curl it and either make a necklace or a ring out of it…blunt the edges.” You laugh and nudge him with your shoulder. “Thanks. You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re doing some weird courting ritual with all these shiny presents.”

You laugh, but Vash goes still as the pieces fall together. The shiny objects, the need to present them to only you, the feeling of acceptance and excitement and attraction when you showed him your earrings –

He’s trying to court you. Plant-style.

Oh. No.