#i wish i had a tank bike

[frythatrice]

Girls' Last Tour ep12 rant/reaction/something/review?

I am (very drunk) and just watched Girls' Last Tour for the first time. Here are some thoughts about ep12, specifically the camera sync scene and a bit beyond, maybe. I got all synapses firing trying to write out this intro as coherently as possible, I'm not sure the rest will be readable - I will check when I'm sober.

Ep12 of Girls' last tour makes my head hurt. I don't know what the fuck is happening in my head but I can tell the writing kicks ass.

The contrast between people living absolutely normal, mundane and boring lives, school festivals, clubs and hanging out with friends, getting better at the hospital, birthdays, having children, being contrasted with abject brutality and the worst of humanity. Being observed by two girls so far removed from all the happenings, living so far in the future they never really ever had a concept of what society or culture even is, "history" being just… the idea of a society, rather than a specific culture or nation. Mundane daily life contrasted by the horrors of war, and how do the girls view it? "It kinda makes you feel less alone". They just witnessed the fall of humanity, and it boils down to more or less a fun fact for them.

"Our military has secured a great victory, with the neighboring state's casualties numbering over fifty million. // So we bought french fries."

It's like the mundanity of human existence being flattened in one sentence. 50 million people dead is basically a fucking genocide. It's being put on the same level as a McDonald's side meal. The contrast makes my fucking head hurt.

It's like the show is saying, look at all the people they killed, look at how hard they were winning their stupid war - to the people that have to live in the world they left behind, it has as much (or less)worth as french fries.

Chito and Yuuri, the last two humans alive, saying that they don't care the world is ending as long as they're together is the biggest fuck you to the worst of humanity I've ever seen in my life. They just watched a highlight reel of how the world ended and concluded with "ok that that was cool, anyways". That's fucking crazy. Humans can do some fucked up shit but sometimes girls hold hands and I feel like that makes up for it.

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

[fallbhind]

DO BETTER, FOR FATHER.

synopsis : after finishing a review paper, you need father mayhew to observe it, and you didn't quite expect to catch him at such bad times, especially when he just got out the shower.

➤ warnings .ᐣ smut. p in v. unprotected sex (wrap 'fore you tap. no little nun babies yet). fingering. kissing. virgin / lost of virginity. virgin!reader. sucking readers come off charlie's fingers prep before sex. DUBCON. blasphemy. tw blood. charlie likes reader bleeds. based off this bot that was req by anon. probably butchered the freak out of this scene but i didn't have the energy to rewatch the seen. please don't come after me. &&. idk anything abt how nuns dress. wc﹔1.5k

NOBODY KNEW how sinful father mayhew was actually. underneath the 'good young-forwarding preist' cover, was almost like a middle-school boy who hadn't yet grasped the understandment of be faithful to the religion. but oh, the only difference is father mayhew punished himself for giving into his urges, like masturbation towards the pretty little nun (you), he met not to far back when he first joined the church as a preist.

in fact, his sinful persona was so well hidden he carried a great following throughout the community, from the blog posts about the recent killings going around discovering they were more surrounded by religion than your every day killer, to having great listeners listening to him bike and preach. especially you.

you watched from the corner as he pedaled on the bike, that red tank top stretching across his chest, it was just oh so sinful. in your eyes. while he mumbled things towards the camera that was he was filming on, when he went to bring his arms up and clap, he closed his eye, relishing in the fact he could hear you scurry away to hide out his view. for the remainder of the time on the bike, you left him with a smirk that was planted by you.

later, you stood in the doorway of his bedroom, waiting patiently as you watched him step out the bathroom, wrapping the white towel around his waisted, the v line to his cock clearly visible, he showed little care (clearly), after all he stepped out the shower with his bedroom door wide open. of course most people can do such without people lurking but that was beside the point. when father mayhew turned round, he greeted you almost joyfully. "sister." he said. "what brings such pleasure?"

you were so ashamed to have been caught staring, you used the newspaper held loosely in your hand to face plant yourself. has he stalked closer, you passed him the new review for that blog that has been going viral due to the connections to the serial killers and religion. he greeted you inside the room, shutting the door as he walked back over to his small mirror that he almost towered over. disappointment covered his face, "i'm not saying your a bad writer, sister—" he paused, "but where is the bloodlust?" his hand smacked against the paper numerous times, dramatically showing what he meant.

"do better." he said, walking over to you, "i know you can." charlie released the paper from his hand. the paper had a slow descend to the floor, and you kept quiet as father mayhew dropped his towel to the floor without another word. it was like a fever dream. your eyes sinfully trailed down to the v right before his cock, it was a sight, and you were drinking it right up from the cup.

"like what you see?" father mayhew said teasingly while you held your lips taught together refusing to say anything to the tease. he leaned towards your face with a smug look, "say yes." he demanded of you.

"yes, father.. i like what i see." you said, almost ashamedly, bowing your head towards the ground, wishing no disrespect on jesus and god himself. father mayhew did something no catholic pastor would ever do to their nuns. remove their veil. as father mayhew pulled the veil away from your head, your pretty hair falling freely, watching your hair spread away from each other, father mayhew did something, he let out a groan of shear pleasure.

he cupped your jaw relishing in the fact you say before him, veil off and you didn't even fight him about it. "you look so good." father mayhew pushed his lips onto yours, enlightening something in your body were you just couldn't push away. and it was sad, really. you spent practically devoting yourself to staying pure for your future husband, but with charlie in the way, you didn't believe that would stay a true, unless you married him, of course. which that was definitely not happening. has he pulled away from your lips, a satisfying 'pop' filled the room, along with your slightly heavier breathing.

within the blink of the eye, you found your self being pushed up against the wall, right underneath the cross. without a chance to protest, he was bunching up your gown, pulling down your pantyhose before ridding you off your panties and pantyhose, discarding them on the floor. you were pinned in such an uncomfortable position, you let out a grunt, hinting at your discomfort. he rubbed a thumb over your clit impatiently, wanting to just destroy you, but poor thing, he knew you were a sweet thing, saving her self for marriage.

he massaged the bulb in a soothing circle, drawling a soft whimper from your lips, the stimulation was new to you, and it felt good, but you felt oh so sinful while it was happening. you should've said no. but it felt so good. you wanted to say no, but you clearly wanted this. he pushed his lips against yours, "father mayhew—"

his voice cut you off. "call me charlie." he whispered in against your lips, going back to pushing his lips against yours, his tounge swiping across your bottom lip, clearly hinting at what he wanted. you opened your mouth allowing him to enter. he pushed his tongue in your mouth, your tongues 'wrapping' around each other. with how well your tounge moved against his, people think you weren't a virgin.

charlie's thumb pressed against your bud once more, before slowly pushing a finger into your tight hole. you let out a soft whimper, rolling your head against the wall, hitting the cross ever so slightly. "fuck—" you moaned out, feeling his finger move in and out of you, picking up pace as he found it easier to move in and out. he slowly eased another finger into you, your whole body tensing as he did so. you could've burst on the spot.

"go ahead." charlie whispered hoarsely, like all the saliva in his mouth had dried up. "i know you want to." his tounge swiped across his bottom lip, wetting his lips. he slowed his pace as he noticed your body locking up, and as your body did so, you came, on his fingers, the thick white cream coating his fingers with a shiny cover. he brought his fingers to his mouth, using his teeth to eat the come. "it's so sweet, sister." he praised, "you did good."

he tapped open your mouth, sticking a finger in your mouth, "suck." your mouth worked skillfully around his finger, sucking the salty come off it. after cleaning your mess off his finger, his cock was painfully hard. he picked you up off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist as you wrapped your legs around his hips, whilst keeping you pressed against the wall. he aligned himself to thrust into your tight hole, pushing the tip in.

when he pushed his cock in all the way, slowly easing it in and out of you, knowing it just had to hurt you so bad. you squeezed around him. charlie started to thrust into you, losing sight of what he said he was going to do, doing quite literally the opposite of what he said to himself. "feel so good around me." charlie praised. he slowed down his pace slowly when he felt his balls tighten, but there wasn't any way he was going to come unless you came first.

so, with little care, he sped his pace back up, bottoming you out. when he pulled himself back out, a small ring of blood cover the base of his cock, "cute." he muttered, "but 'm not finished yet." before pushing back in again. he was so happy. he was the one that got to deflower you, and you didn't say yes, but you didn't necessarily reject. your hands went to feel of his back, the fresh lacerations from the whip he used on himself a few days ago. as he moved in and out, occasionally re-bunching up your dress that would slip, he'd run soft circles on your cunt to speed up the process of making you come.

he loved the way he felt around you, the tight virgin. "father." you breathed out, grabbing onto his shoulders tighter for leverage. "'m so close." you said admittedly, your back arching away from the wall, feeling your body become looser as you came around his cock.

"that's my girl," he whispered, "i thought you'd never come." following a suit a few minutes after, he came as well, filling you with his warm, beautiful semen. of course that was when he started to daydream about you birthing his children, about being married happily ever after with you, and two beautiful kids. to be able to touch you without sin, but that was all a daydream. for now, at least.

he pulled out, allowing you away from the wall. he walked over the sink, wiping of the blood from the base of his cock, grabbing the white towel, wrapping it around his waist, watching you pull up your panties, then putting your pantyhose back on. he watched you slide on your high heels, standing up. "i should go fix the uh— review for you." you trotted out his room, quickly heading downstairs as you left charlie with a smile.

TAGS @mattsdolll. @sematarygirls. @beausling. @pr3ttyf4wn.

[ladythornofrivia]

🍒 The Devil’s Tongue 🍒

Michael Gavey x Reader (PART ONE)

summary: you transferred into Oxford after moving out from your country for a better change, and unexpectedly meeting Michael Gavey in a quiet library, leads to something more.

warnings: creepy vibes from michael gavey, reader being oblivious, stalking, michael being horny, p in v sex, loss of virginity, jealousy, misunderstandings, obsession, belt kink, panty kink, scent kink, voice kink, breeding kink, michael gavey being a smartass, michael gavey is horny for math, michael gavey is a smartass, clueless reader, nerdy yet hot michael, lust at first sight, sex in the library, sex on the table, kitchen sex, oral sex, cam girl, fingering, sex during tutoring session, reader teasing, reader being a dominatrix in bed, food porn.

a/n: i forgot to review the movie saltburn last year, so I’ll give it a short review. Saltburn is a weird movie, but i watched it because of Ewan Mitchell. While ewan mitchell is 10/10, saltburn is 7/10, because of the bathtub scene and the grave scene. the only thing that’s good is the cinematography, music and ewan mitchell. i wish there’s more scenes from him. yes, i keep saying his name! he’s so fucking hot as a nerd. this one shot will be long.

You like cherries.

There’s something mysterious and tempting about the roundish and reddish fruits. Cherries are sweet, and it’s dark-reddish color brought an appeal to your appetite and. Appeal that also changes your view in fashion.

And as hot as the Devil’s tongue.

Red symbolized lust.

Sinful, they proclaimed.

So does your pussy, when you splayed across the bed, watched as Michael entered and his face bewildered when you splayed naked in bed with thick whip cream smothered on your tits, waist, and your pussy decorated in whip cream swirled with cherry on top.

"Hi, baby. I've been waiting for you," you said as your legs spread, thick of whip cream and candied cherry cascaded slowly.

***

A Year Ago…

Your parents and your attention seeking relatives are no good. Red is as sin as lust—the devil’s skin, the devil’s horn.

Other than black and pink, you like the dark-cherry color. All your aesthetics are cherry red—well, the undertones to match your little room at your small house belongs to your parents.

Them and their sinless views of the world has sickened to your stomach. You don’t want to be like your hypocritical, martyr parents for the rest of your life, so you applied for the university at Oxford and Northamptonshire. You got accepted to the university. Despite being a young woman, you managed to prove them wrong.

And sever ties with them to go at the University of Oxford, where you encounter numerous people. You’ve done research to get things right—not to be frigid or superficially pretentious; you didn’t want to embarrass yourself on the spot if you chose to be ignorant.

One thing that no one else knows of you, is that you moonlight as a dominatrix on a live stream. Every night, you broadcast online to pleasure yourself—that’s how you got money to bail from a strict and hypocritical religious household.

Few of the students looked at your direction, giving a side-eye. You overheard them calling you a prostitute, but you couldn’t care less. Dress to impress for yourself. You mostly wore bike leather jacket, a tank top, mini skirt and a chunky dark-cherry red boots with light make up, but the lipstick is glossy dark red—and not the irritable, sticky kind.

Your long locks tossed at the side, already at your assigned room, but you shut the windows completely. You don’t want to reveal the private side of your internet sensation. After closing the curtains, you’re off to the hall, where people gathered and talk, mainly about drama and parties.

You hadn’t known one. But you had party to yourself of gaining source of income from self-pleasure.

There you sat down, and overheard someone at your left. Afar, you saw a young man named Oliver Quick and another guy with nerdy glasses.

Michael Gavey.

“Fuckin’ ask me a sum then!” The chatter dimmed when a young man shouted about math.

No one really likes as the guy with the nerdy glasses does. But he does look cute when he’s fuming.

Maybe he’s sexually frustrated. All it needs is I need to work on a poor guy. Poor guy is so frustrated—a no man island himself, like Oliver Quick.

You could tell. So you chimed in.

“What’s the square root of 69”

Both boys turned to look at you.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Oliver inquired, perplexed.

“Oh, just a curious person asking him a question,” you said, jerking your head towards the blond and cutely frustrated boy.

“8.30662386292,” is all the blond uttered.

Your lips tugged into a smirk, and left.

Interesting, now I have a new kink to look forward to for my next kinky session.

***

It’s quite luxurious for a library—grand yet old like wines in the cellar. You studied Political Science and Art, and while you studied and sometimes drawing, but a certain snack bar caught your eye; it was placed above your drawing.

“I got you a crunchie,” a voice said. You turned and saw Michael Gavey.

“Oh, um, thanks?”

“I have never seen you before,” he noted.

“Really? So do I.”

“As a matter of fact, you have disrupted us during our friendly conversation.”

Oliver Quick was anything but friendly and comfortable.

“Okay and?”

He quirked a brow. “Your attitude is unusual.”

“Well, where I came from, it’s not really an issue. I’m a straight forward kind of gal,” you explained.

Michael hummed, staring at you.

“Pardon my rudeness. I’m Michael Gavey.” His hand stretched out. “I never get your name.

“I’m (Y/N) (L/N).” You offered a handshake in return.

“Where are you from?”

“I’m from America.”

“Ah, yes. The land of freedom,” he commented, trying to make you laugh.

You laughed awkwardly. You have never smiled or laughed before—in a non-superficial way. You laughed and smiled during as a cam girl, but other than that, you never smile genuinely.

Somehow it caught his eye. His glasses beamed that you could see the color of his hues.

“An awkward foreign girl.”

“Yeah, so? I’m not really a people-person.”

“Why did you come here, then? For a good fuck?”

Ghastly, you turned around to see if anyone catches his words, but nobody pays attention.

“Are you going to the party?”

“What party?”

“The party Felix and his friends are heading tonight.”

“Who the hell is Felix?”

Michael darted his eyes behind you, and followed the sign; Felix and Farleigh sat at the back between the shelves.

“Apparently, he’s hosting a party tonight. NFI, me and you. Not Fucking Invited.”

“Well, I don’t a fuck about parties that much.”

Michael tsked. “That’s a very strong language.”

“Says the guy who says NFI. Besides, I don’t like parties,” you said, and it wasn’t a half lie. You have an upcoming camgirl session tonight.

“A shame,” Michael said, then reaching for the crunchie.

You have never tried snacks from another culture.

“Is it good?” you asked him.

He ripped the snack bar open, and gave you a piece. “Try it and see for yourself.”

And you did.

It was worth it.

Nevermind how Michael watched you in fascination.

***

The roofs and walls of University has been but a sham; it was real quiet.

Too quiet.

You hated quiet rooms.

In your next session, your fingers swirled your swollen clit, thinking of Michael Gavey’s rosy lips and tongue licking and nibbling your wet cunt and a tight hole.

You never fucked anybody, but you wanted your first time to be special. You rode on a dildo, trying not to moan so loud, but you come down high. The faster you moved, the more erotic images of a nerdy Michael seeping into you.

This is my kind of party.

***

Somewhere, in a darkened room, Michael Gavey’s hand filled with cum, and his other hand pressed the send button on his computer screen.

It was sensational to see.

You.

Who would’ve thought he met you—a famous camgirl.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how your eyes twinkled when you ate crunchie for the first time—far from the horniness and snobbish act you put up in public. It was a delight to see . With your outstanding getup and attitude, he knew that he’s in a right place.

Taglist: @toodlesxcuddles @kittendoll05 @omgsuperstarg @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @danika1994 @angeljcca @marvelescvpe @kukulyarva @namelesslosers @heavenly1927 @snh96 @fandom-maniac-anime @httpsmenace @velunis @nananeptune @domithebomi @moonseye @faesspace @tm-starr @xinthia19 @popsycles @halsteadstyles @lothiriel9 @liannafae @ammo23 @blackswxnn @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @qardasngan @justyelena @jolixtreesunn @runekisses @thought--bubble @remuslupinwife1 @evergreen9083 @foggypeacestarlight @dixie-elocin @galactict3a @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216 @kimsubin05 @blackgaladriel @valeskafics @theboleyngirlx @elaratyrell @mylosz0

[atarathegreat]

Scary Wife Privilages Tokyo Revengers

Featuring: Kokonoi Hajime, Ken Ryuguji (Draken), Rindou Haitani, Atsushi Sendo (Akkun)

Synopsis: They don't need you to stand up for them, but damn do they love when you get feisty.

It was crazy to you the extent of disrespect that Kokonoi would put up with while you were around. Everyone was aware of how ruthless the man could be, but they were also aware of how he hid it when you were around, and they took advantage of it. You lost count of how many people stopped in with random complaints about whatever Koko had done the previous week.

You lost count, sure, but not your temper.

Another poor soul walked in, anger evident on his face. Kokonoi wasn't any less pissed than you were, but he didn't like to explode when you happened to be with him. Of course, you knew this. You'd seen him strangle a man for information. You rolled your eyes thinking about it: how could he strangle a man in front of you with zero hesitation but he didn't want to get angry?

"Don't." You glared at the fancy suit and tie as he sat in the chair opposite the desk where Koko sat. "Don't say a word if it's negative." your voice was dark, heavy, almost dangerous, "Give your report and leave."

The man stared up at you as you leaned on Kokonoi's chair, "If there are problems then the boss needs to know."

Koko would be lying if he said he wasn't impressed with the way you leaned over his desk, grabbing the man by his tie and jerking him forward. He knew you had a temper but this...this was different. This made him wish he was on the receiving end of your death glare. "Say it then." Your words sent a chill up Koko's spine, "Tell me your complaint."

And for the first time, Koko seen one of his men speechless. You were scaring the hell out of him, even more so than any gun.

"No, ma'am, it's okay..." His underling whimpered. Koko had never heard any of his men whimper. But there it was, the fear in his eyes and a very pathetic whine that came out as he spoke.

Inui and Kenny had been busting their asses all day. They'd fixed bike after bike, crushed their fingers, bruised their legs, and Kenny slammed his head into the shelf holding parts, effectively bringing the whole thing down. Inui had laughed, stating, "You're too damn tall for this little shop!"

You smiled, and your smile could've made the devil himself kneel in terror, "Then give your report and go."

As they were replacing a whole gas tank for an old rusted up bike, (Kenny knew it would be more use to the customer as scrap, but the man was adamant about getting the poor heap of metal fixed) someone started hitting the bell on the front desk like it was an emergency. Kenny looked up, sharing a look of exhaustion with Inui before they both stood and slowly made their way out.

"Finally!" The woman yelled and slammed her hands on the counter, "You fixed my sons bike and charged him extra! Who do you think you are?"

Inui, who was busy pulling the books for the week, responded before Kenny could, "I'm Inui Seishu, he's Ken Ryuguji."

Inui's sarcasm made the woman angrier, and Kenny, for the very first time, hated that his friends kneejerk reaction to people was dry sarcasm. She started yelling louder, getting on Ken's nerves as he stood and took it. What was he going to do? Him and Inui charged fairly on their work, and this was a woman, Kenny couldn't exactly brawl with her.

"Would you just give me your sons name so I can find what we fixed and how much we charged?" Inui asked dryly, glancing up from the computer.

"No! You're supposed to know this stuff already! Unless you're scamming everyone that comes into this store!" The woman was becoming red in the face, "Scammers! Overpriced mechanics."

A sweet gust of wind carried over Kenny, he didn't have time to groan about someone else coming in before you had analyzed the situation. You'd heard the woman yelling from outside, a plan of action already made and ready to be executed. Inui smiled at you, "Good evening, Y/n."

"Evening, Inui." Both men paused at the calm air in your voice, "What's the problem here?"

You were here, meaning Kenny could relax and let you handle this problem on legs. He smiled and waved at his daughter who was holding your hand tightly, she waved back and giggled when your hand absently rested in her hair. God, how did his day get twenty times better with just a simple little sound?

The woman quickly tried to usher you out of the shop, stopping when you gently shoved her hand away, "You better get your little girl out of here, these scammers-"

"Enough." Your tone was cold, "These men are charging just right for their expertise and parts they replace. Do you understand how much money it costs to order half the parts for a motorcycle?''

Inui piped up quickly, "I don't think she does, Miss Ryuguji. Enlighten her."

Now Kenny was regretting how funny it was that his friend loved instigating you.

"In the last month this shop has spent over 6734610 yen in bike parts, three pieces of which went to your sons bike three days ago. Inui," You looked over at him, "search the name Kyoka. Broken clutch, broken break and an old spark plug."

Everyone waited silently as Inui looked it up. Your daughter pulled her hand free and ran to her dad, whispering to him as he picked her up, "Mommy is real scary right now." Kenny nodded, "Mommy doesn't take this type of shit, does she, baby girl?" The young child giggled, "She said she was gonna have to beat ass when we came in."

Kenny covered his daughters mouth, "Hey, we talked about the swearing, didn't we?"

He didn't have time to get an answer from your daughter because you started yelling back at the older lady, "I don't care if your son used his whole damn paycheck to get his bike fixed. He's in his thirties and doesn't need his mommy to come and bitch about price for him. Go on! Yell some more, because I promise you, I am much louder."

She tucked tail and hurried from the shop, leaving you alone with the two mechanics, "You charged twenty yen over..."

Rindou, while he loved his brother very much, didn't like the man coming over. Ran had a bad habit of flirting with you and Rindou had caught his brother setting his hands on your thighs too many times. He wasn't worried about you falling for the ridiculous antics, you'd always removed Ran's hands promptly but respectfully, he just hated that his brother was encroaching on his wife. Ran could have any woman he wanted, why did he have to go after you?

Inui grinned, "Agree with us in public, huh?"

"Rin?" You called to him from across your shared bedroom, "I can see the way your eyebrows are moving. What are you thinking?"

He snapped out of his thoughts quickly, looking at the beautiful outfit you were wearing, the way your arms stretched as you struggled with the clasp of your necklace. "Nothing." Rindou muttered, stepping up behind you to grab the ends of the silver chain.

"Have I ever told you that you suck at lying to me?" Your eyes pierced his through the mirror of your vanity. He couldn't hide the small smirk, "You have."

Rindou appreciated the way you called him out so openly, most people were too afraid of him to, but you didn't fear anyone, not even Mikey, and Mikey had held a gun to your throat. "I...Is it bad that I don't want Ran to come over? I love him, but-"

"I think it's a normal reaction when a man keeps trying to seduce your wife." You were nothing if not brutally honest, "I can't say I'm thrilled to have him over, either."

And yet, despite neither of you being excited to see him, you both greeted Ran with smiles and hugs. You, of course, had to peel the older man from your body, chuckling as you stated, "Boundaries, Ran."

Ran knew the extent he could go, and he exploited it. Placing his hands on your lower back, just above your ass where you couldn't protest your boundaries, or grabbing your hand and tugging you away from Rindou at the worst moments. It was getting on Rindou's nerves the more the night went on, to the point that Rin was hanging onto your back and refusing to let you do anything without him. He was acting like a koala, and as much as you loved him, it was getting aggravating having two grown men following you around.

"Enough!" You snapped, scaring the brothers, "Sit down!"

They did, Ran smiling as you finally lost your temper with them. Rindou glared at his brother, kicking him under the table, "This is your fault..."

"Quiet." You sounded like a mother scolding her children, "We're going to set some new rules, okay? Good."

Rindou knew that none of the rules were meant for him, but the tone in your voice was, at the very least, worrying to him. He knew you could strangle Ran, not with pure strength but because Ran would let you, and he didn't want you to get any more pissed.

It might as well have been a brothel. The second you walked in you were slammed with the smell of perfume and expensive fabrics. You'd learned to take headache relief before showing up, and it helped for the most part. The women, Hostess's as your husband called them, were lined up all day. Mostly they stood and watched men walk in and pick another woman to have their fun with before they walked out, half drunk and with their pants undone while the woman spent the next hour getting fixed up.

"And for the love of god, Ran, stop flirting with me! I don't like you!" You huffed, crossing your arms, "I have zero attraction to you, give up. Because if you don't, and I say this heavily, Ran, I will bring out every ounce of Haitani that I have picked up in the last three years and I will sink you to the bottom of the ocean."

The man who greeted you as you walked in was quick to remove a dark velvet rope, letting you go up the steps to where you knew Atsushi was sitting. But you were greeted with a sight that made you cackle.

Atsushi was sitting in his usual spot on one of the overpriced couches, legs spread wide and his arms resting over the back. He laid his head back to see you, smiling as you walked closer. You stared down at the woman who was crouched between his knees, "I can hear you begging from the doorway. It's pathetic."

Her poorly manicured nails slowly pulled off his knees, her wrongly glossed lips parting as she spoke, "Wh-who are you?"

You moved Atsuhsi's hand to show off his ring, "Take a guess. Tell me-Oh, no, don't get up!" You stopped her from moving from her position, "Tell me, how does it feel to beg for a married man?"

She was silent, staring up at you. You were like the boogey man for the girls who worked, as each one had tried to make themselves Atsushi's favorite.

"Good to see you, babe." Atsushi reached up and held your face, "Come just to see me?"

"Mhm, that was the initial goal." You walked around and sat beside him, grabbing the woman's hands and placing them on Atsushi's thighs, "Now, I want to see something."

The woman looked even more scared as you moved her around, "Did you think you would get away with this, sweetheart? I know these girls share stories of me, so there's no way you didn't hear about me."

"I swear, I didn't know the boss was married...I hadn't heard anything..." She was wide eyed, shaking a little. You laughed, "Come now, Atsu, are your girls hazing each other?"

He shrugged, "You know I don't pay that much attention."

You stood quickly, dragging the woman backwards and bending her painfully over the small table behind her. She gasped, eyes going wider if that was even possible. Atsushi had seen you do this before.

Both your faces were only inches apart, your wide smile would haunt her for days, "Does this hurt you? Can you take more?" She shook her head, muttering out a quiet "no" that made you giggle, "Then know that you can't handle what my husband could do to you. Even if you were just sucking cock, he's too brutal for you to stand. So, please, attempt this again. Do it, sweetheart, on the very, very slim chance he cheats on me, I'll know you won't be walking for a few days while I file divorce."

The doubled threat wasn't lost on Atsushi, who quickly moved to drag you into his lap, "Babe, c'mon, this place needs ladies who work." He sounded calm, but you could see the emotion hidden in his movements. Atsushi didn't want you to even mention divorce ever again, let alone after you threatened his employee.

The woman ran away fast when you waved her off, "Atsu, honey, my love. Don't let me find this again. I might just kill the next bitch."

[weapon-xox]

Scogan drabble if you are ok with it ^-^

hope this is alright! thanks for the request 💕

"I missed you."

The putter of a motorcycles engine was cut off, the garage growing eerily silent, as Logan turned to look at Scott who had heard the engine from a mile away and was trying to act like he didn't run come down here just because that meant that Logan was finally home.

The Wolverine opened his mouth to speak, to maybe say something teasing along the lines of 'don't think I can say the same' despite being the furthest thing from the truth, but Scott pressed a hand to the bike and eyed it lovingly. Logan rolled his eyes.

"Oh," Cyclops purred, gaze flicking up teasingly through the visor, Logan could just see the outline... He wished he could really see those eyes. "didn't see you there, claws. How was your trip?"

"Nothin' new," he sighed dejectedly. "Didn't find what I was lookin' for, but that ain't new either." Scotts teasing demeaner faltered, and he stood up straight, offering a sympathetic smile while taking a scruffy cheek in his palm.

He scratched at the side of his partners head, behind his ear, in just that way he knew Logan loved, and as expected Scott could see the stress begin to dissolve, could see the mutant lean more into his touch with eyes that prettily fluttered closed and lips that parted in a soft gasp.

Logan started leaning to the side in the same way a cat might when you find that sweet spot, and Scott knew how to find it every time.

Wanting to be closer, missing his boyfriends overly heated body for the week he'd been gone, he carefully stepped over the seat and sat down behind Logan on the bike, the poor vehicle creaking under their combined weight, arms wrapping around his torso with his chest to his back and a chin on his shoulder, fingers smoothing over the dips and ridges of his stomach after slipping beneath his shirt while Logan leaned back into him. Scott could hear the creaking of metal joints in the silence of the garage, and he couldn't tell if they were Logans or his bikes.

"I missed you, too, you know," Scott started softly, head turned and lips pressed to Logans neck, mouthing tenderly against it's side while pulling the leather jacket from his shoulders. His kisses followed the fabric, lips trailing behind as it fell from Logans shoulders, bare with only the strap of his tank top. Logan felt hotter, nearly scorching his lips, if that were possible.

"Uh huh," he grumbled in an attempt to sound aloof, but the lazy smile and lidded eyes that struggled to stay open and locked on Scotts face gave him away, though something conflicted twitched against his features. Fingers brushed through the lovely patch of hair just above those tight jeans, pausing, then grabbed a handful and tugged. Logan mewled out a whine, and Scotts face shifted into something serious.

"I mean it. I know you don't really think I do, but I do." Logan looked away. Scott brought him back, unoccupied fingers grabbing his jaw. Logan looked unconvinced.

"Scottie," Logan laughed bitterly, but didn't try to look away again. The bike moaned when he shifted, and his neck was starting to get uncomfortable from the awkward angle. "Y'ain't gotta lie. I know how these things go, and I've always been replaceable."

Now Scott looked angry. Or hurt, maybe, Logan couldn't tell with the visor covering the most expressive part of Scotts face.

"I don't know anyone else made out of metal," Scott pointed out, but Logan didn't like that.

"So you like having a weapon around. Can't say I'm surprised, teachers pet." Scott groaned in frustration, but he never tightened his grip on Logans face, or his hair on his belly, just held him enough that he couldn't run away.

Not this time.

"I don't know anyone who can make me so angry," Logan opened his mouth to complain, stopping when Scott simply shook his head. "I'm not done." Logan obeyed.

"But I've also never known anyone who makes me feel... This way, whatever it is. Angry, sad, but happy. Loved, and protected. Jean, sure. Of course Jean. But you? You make me feel something more, and confusing, if I'm honest. When we fight, it motivates me to do better. When you're mad at me, and we're arguing- all I want to do is kiss you, Logan. Kiss all that anger and pain away, hold you in my arms, and tell you that no one can hurt you now because I won't let them."

Logan wasn't exactly sure if he should be hurt or pleased, and when Scott saw that confused puppy dog tilt of his head, he smiled softly. Still tight-lipped, but a smile no less.

"It's written into who we are that we hate each other, I can feel that sometimes. That it's supposed to be how we feel- that we should hate each other, complete opposites of one another but really, we're the same. Or similar," he added with a nod, and Logan was starting to understand. Scott continued,

"What I'm trying to say is we don't hate each other. Or- I don't. I don't hate you one bit, because even when I'm angry with you, I love you, and that feeling doesn't go away. I'm never really angry-"

"Neither am I," Logan interupted, big, furry hands finding purchase on Scotts porclean cheeks with urgency. "Not at you. Never at you. I..."

Then they were kissing. Logan wasn't good at words, but he could express with his body, fully turned around on the motorcycles seat now to press up against Scott and kiss him, fingers tangled in soft, red strands, Scotts index fingers hooked through Logans belt loops to keep him close. When they parted it was to breathe, if only for Scotts sake, and Logan looked up at him and accidently let a small whine slip. Cyclops muttered "See? I can't replace this. I'll never find someone like you again, I can't replicate this feeling no matter how hard I try. So just trust me, okay?"

Trust. That was a hard word for Logan, but he nodded anyway, because Scott didn't smell any type of way that could make him disagree. Didn't make him feel like he couldn't trust him, not like so many others had failed to do before.

Scott wiped a stray tear that fell from Logans eye away with a brush of his lips against his cheek, then brought those same lips to Logans ear, his voice a soft whisper that made Logans stomach flutter and his head swim, "let's help you relax, old man."

Logan was brought to their room. He didn't say it outloud, couldn't find the right words or the voice to say it outloud in case everything fell apart, with Logans luck of keeping people around, but he could never replace Scott either.

[lightwing-s]

omg this made me think of biker!jason https://www.instagram.com/reel/CtdISWSrG0R/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

i have this video on my saved in both tiktok and instagram and i always go back to it because it’s just so fucking adorable and i just want to have this with somebody im so fucking single somebody save me from this

.

Jason was never one for physical touch. Never thought he deserved it in the first place.

His parents had never given that sort of love before each of them passed away. And then he ended up with Bruce, a place where that sort of affection was never to be expected. Or any sort of affection at all.

And then he met you.

You who gave him a hug out of nervousness when a mutual friend introduced you to each other. You who somehow got him to open up on your first date and had him balling his eyes out on your chest as you held him tighter than he’d ever been. You who never failed to give him the affection he never knew, but he always wished for.

Riding had become Jason’s preferred form of therapy since his return to Gotham. Since starting dating you, he’d drag you along. Not that you complained.

Sitting behind him, legs surrounding his, arms wrapped around his waist, and helmet covered chin resting on his shoulder, you felt the wind cutting through your skin as he drove god knows how many miles per hour.

You’re his favorite backpack. An added feeling of warmth and comfort to the thrill and adrenaline of a ride.

Somewhere along your ride, Jason felt your hands slipping away from his waist and going down to his tights, reaching as far as below his knees, light touches lighting the butterflies in his tummy.

Going back upwards, he expected them to stop at his waist, but you kept them going up. Cupping his toned chest, those “boobs bigger than mine” as you’d say, you squished them in your “tiny little hands”, and you felt his laugh through his body.

He peeked back at you over his shoulders, and you rubbed your helmet on his back like a kitten begging for attention.

Circling his waist with your arms once more, you grabbed the hand he had resting on his bike’s tank to wrap your fingers around it, caressing the back of his hand with your thumb, and hugging him tighter with your free arm.

Jason didn’t know what he’d do without you, and he even wondered if he was even deserving of your presence. But he was thankful for whoever in this universe had put you in his path, he was thankful for your love and attention, for showering with things he longed for so long and he was still learning to give back.

Feeling the thin jewel on your ring finger, he just knew you were riding in the right direction.

[privatehousesanatomy]

Hi, love your work! Thank you for sharing and writing.

Could you do a House X fem!Reader where he tries to impress her with a tour on his motorcycle? <3

Thank you. Wish you a wonderful Day :3

NEED FOR SPEED - gregory house x fem!reader

ahh tysm, i love that you love my writing! i think this is such a cute prompt!!

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

"i still can't believe you bought a motorcycle," you sighed, shaking your head in disapproval. after working many shifts in the ER, you'd dealt with at least a hundred motorcycle crash victims, so you knew the dangers that came with riding them. you saw what they could do to people. so when house announced that he was now the proud owner of one, it's safe to say that you weren't pleased in the slightest.

"oh come on," house scoffed, grabbing the key off of the catch-all dish that sat on the entryway table. "it's because of my leg, isn't it? you think i can't drive it."

"you can barely drive your own car safely," you reminded him. that part was true - house knew the rules of the road and tried to push those rules as far as he could without actually breaking any laws.

"that's different," he rolled his eyes, going to the hallway closet now. "come on, i got you a helmet."

"there is absolutely no way i'm getting on that thing," you huffed, immediately shaking your head when he held the helmet out to you. you were someone he was beginning to see on a more regular basis, and he'd be remiss to say that he wasn't developing feelings for you. the last thing house had wanted was another relationship after the way his previous one ended, but somehow you'd managed to get past his barriers.

"i promise i won't go too fast," he said. he could understand why you were apprehensive about getting on the bike, but he also wanted you to have a part in the things that he was interested in as well. he wasn't good at expressing that outright, though, but he was certainly trying. at first, you were about to protest, but the pleading look in his blue eyes was enough to make you cave, and you let out a groan.

"fine, but you'd better not go too fast," you told him, making sure he was actually willing to keep his word.

the bike had been customized with a spot for house to put his cane, so that answered your question as to how he even rode the damn thing having to carry his cane around.

"don't worry, i thought of everything before i bought it. you really thought i was just going to buy any old bike?" he asked you, pretending to be appalled at the mere idea. you chuckled softly, shaking your head.

"knowing you, you would have taken the damn thing from the scrap yard for free," you teased. house smirked slightly, putting his helmet on over his head and waiting for you to do the same.

"sorry if it stinks. wilson wore it last," he joked, and you rolled your eyes. before putting the helmet on. it was heavy, but at least you knew that if you were to get into an accident, your head was protected. you then sat down on the back end of the bike, wrapping your arms around his waist. the feeling of your arms around him made his body tense just a little bit, as the whole concept of physical touch was still slightly new to him. he was getting used to the fact that being in a relationship meant sharing these moments of intimacy, but he couldn't deny that it felt good.

turning the key in the ignition, he started up the bike and took off down the street. much to your surprise, he kept his promise and drove at a steady pace, which you were thankful for.

it was the perfect day for a ride. the sun was shining for once and the city just felt so much brighter. summer had finally touched down in princeton and you couldn't be happier. it was your favourite time of year, after all.

it wasn't long before house pulled off at a gas station, as he'd noticed shortly after they'd left the apartment that he'd needed to fill the tank. he took his helmet off so he could do what he needed to do, and he turned to look at you.

"wasn't so bad, was it?" he smirked, and you were trying hard to make it seem like you weren't having fun, but it was to no avail.

"i guess," you replied, but the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth suggested otherwise.

"i told you so," he hummed, filling up the bike with gas. ironically, this was his first time needing to fill up since he bought the damn thing, though he really only rode it to and from the hospital. this was his first real joyride.

back on the road again and you were headed for the outskirts of town, and you had to admit that the scenic route was even better than the city views. everything was so green and alive out here, and it made you want to trade in your apartment in the city for a little farmhouse in the country. sure, maybe the commute to and from work would be a little longer than you'd like, but it was a minor detail that you'd be willing to make sacrifices for.

eventually house pulled off for a break so that he could stretch his leg again. he still dealt with chronic pain, after all, and sitting on a motorcycle did require him to stay in one position for a long time.

you both hopped off the bike and took off your helmets, breathing in the fresh country air. it was so much better than the polluted fumes that filled the city air.

"you ready to admit you're having fun now?" house smirked as he set his helmet down on the seat of the bike. you rolled your eyes, a smirk present on your own face.

"yeah, yeah. but we're not making a habit out of this," you replied, and he took a step closer to you before pulling you in by the waist.

"you say that now," he mumbled, and the two of you closed the gap between you with a kiss.

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

It's Lights Out And Away We Go

Natasha isn't the only one obsessed with the motorcycle her wife got her. Turns out it's perfect for knocking Katya's ego down a notch as well.

- Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC (Katya Petrova from the Forgotten Ghost Series) - Wordcount: 1.4k - No warnings :) Masterlist

A/N: thank you @milfs69420 for the idea! Hope this is what you had in mind :)

Most men had a motorcycle to escape their wives, let's be honest. A reason to hide in the garage and go out for long drives. A hobby "for themselves" that their wives hated.

Natasha was the opposite. While she loved riding her bike instead of the car when the weather was nice, she didn't often go touring just for fun. Not alone, at least. After an hour, she was bored and missed her partner. 

But every now and then, it was a nice way to clear her head. The weather was beautiful today and Katya was at work, so she'd taken the opportunity to pull her shiny new motorcycle out of the garage, driving aimlessly until her fuel meter flickered red.

Pulling up at a gas station, Natasha turned her engine off and kicked out the stand. A group of bikers—black leather, long beards, broad-shouldered—watched her from a distance, half of them mounted on their bikes, half enjoying the shadows of the small gas station store. They were intimidating to most, the reputation of biker gangs not helping their image, but Natasha wasn't bothered, twisting the fuel tank cap by her seat off.

Her helmet gave her a sense of anonymity on the streets that she didn't often get to experience otherwise. While her long red braid peeked out from underneath, she wasn't immediately seen as Natasha the Avenger. Right now, she was just a woman, dressed in black, on a very, very nice motorcycle.

"Nice bike!"

She looked up from the fuel nozzle in her hand, her visor popped open just enough to see, but not enough to get recognized. One of the bikers had called out to her, an appreciative smile on his bearded face. It wasn't the first time people gave her bike hearteyes, and it wouldn't be the last.

"Thanks!"

As expected, he came over to her, leaving his helmet on his motorcycle. Men could never resist something pretty. "How fast does she go?" He asked. His plaid shirt was tight around his thick arms, his leather vest worn in as he held onto it. He looked nice enough.

"Do they ever go fast enough?" Natasha joked, hearing Katya's warning voice in her head that yes, the bike could definitely go too fast.

A deep laugh rumbled in his chest. "No, they don't." Now that he stood closer, he gave her bike another thorough once-over, nodding appreciatively. "You take good care of her, she's like new."

"She is still pretty new," Natasha answered. Talking to strangers wasn't usually her favorite, but he had genuine interest in something she was proud of and enthusiastic about, so she was happy to chat. "It was a gift." 

"A gift?" The man whistled through his teeth. "You must have done something right."

Natasha grinned. "You'll have to ask my wife." 

It's a good thing her mouth was covered by her helmet, because her smile showed exactly how she felt about that wife of hers. To be safe, she averted her shimmering eyes too, watching the numbers on the pump climb as the gas poured into her tank. 

"Your wife?" The man exclaimed with a disbelieving laugh, his beer belly shaking. Clearly he wasn't used to wives being supportive of this hobby. "You're a lucky woman. I wish my wife was into this." 

"She's not. Not really. But she knows that I am." Natasha pulled the fuel nozzle out of the tank, careful not to scratch the paint. He must be hearing the fondness in her voice as she spoke of Katya. "Cars are her thing."

"Then she did her research, because this is a beauty. Don't often see rare ones like these." Once more, his eyes glided over the bike, trying to take in every detail. 

"Yeah, sometimes in life you get lucky, I guess," Natasha joked.

"Some more than others." He laughed, offering her his gloved hand. "I'm Rufus by the way."

"Natasha." She smiled, firmly shaking his hand. It almost engulfed hers. This was such a normal, human interaction. A stranger who talked to her just because they both loved the same things. It was so refreshing and unusual.

"If you'd ever want to join us, it'd be great to have you. It's just us men today, but we have women riding with us too." Rufus followed her gaze to his buddies who were too busy joking with each other. "Promise they aren't half as bad as they look."

Natasha didn't expect to feel excited at his offer. This man had no clue who she was, but he hoped she'd stick around for her personality and shared interests alone. She couldn't wait to tell Katya this. "Thank you."

Rufus nodded once. "I'll let you get on your way." His heavy boots took a step back to make space when she kicked up the bike stand. "Thank you for blessing us with this today."

"You're welcome," Natasha mused proudly, turning the key over in the ignition. With a roar, the engine came to life, and she heard Rufus's delighted groan over the rumbling. For good measure, she revved the engine a few times, grinning widely as she shut her visor and shot away from the gas station.

As Natasha lazily weaved in and out of traffic, she couldn't stop smiling. Her interaction with Rufus was such a stupid thing to be excited about. Someone complimented her motorcycle, how exceptional! But it was way more than that. 

Rufus made her feel wanted and welcome. He invited her to join them. Someone wanted to be her friend for the simple fact that they had the same hobby, not because she was useful or famous. And she was as giddy about that as a kid getting an invite for a classmate's birthday party.

He'd also unintentionally reminded her of just how privileged she was. An expensive motorcycle between her thighs, the money she and Kat had to get themselves these nice things, but most of all a supportive wife who bought her the bike. It wasn't a given to have a partner like that. 

The butterflies in her stomach fluttered happily thinking about her happy, good little life.

Fifteen minutes from home, something colorful caught Natasha's eye in the distance. It was hard to tell because of the reflecting sunlight on all the car roofs, but as she came closer, she could start to make out the distinctive orange color between the rest of traffic.

Slowly, she came closer, squinting her eyes trying to make out the number plate, but it should have been pretty obvious that it was who she thought it was. Who in New York had the exact same car, in that color, and managed to drive it that shitty?

With a smirk, she sat up and called Katya, hearing the call connect through the earbuds in her ears.

"Hi! I'm almost home."

"I know." Natasha smirked, now only four cars behind.

There was a short pause as Katya processed that answer. "Are you stalking me?" She accused her with a chuckle. Right then, Natasha merged behind her car, weaving slowly to pull Katya's attention to her rearview mirror. She knew it worked when a gasp came through the phone. "Oh, hey!"

"Hello," Natasha mused, speeding up until she drove next to Katya's window, giving her a small wave. "Fancy seeing you here."

Katya stared at her for longer than was safe. "It has to be illegal for you to drive around on that thing. You're a distraction to all the other drivers."

"Is that why you drive like a drunk grandma?" Natasha saw her scowl through the window.

"Take that back."

Natasha's sly smile widened. "I'll take it back if you press your foot on the gas pedal."

"I can beat you home if I wanted to."

"Bet."

"Bet." Katya adjusted her seat, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. "We start at the next sign post."

Natasha pressed her chest closer to her motorcycle, wrapping her fingers securely around the handles. "Enjoy the view off my ass, because that's what you're going to be looking at the whole way home."

"Prepare to have it beaten."

It was a losing game for Katya. Natasha was the better driver and she had a more agile vehicle that crept into places the car couldn't. By the time she pulled up on the driveway at home, Natasha had already parked her bike inside and pretended to wait impatiently on the porch. 

Katya woke up the next day to find a sticker on her car. 

"Warning: Slow moving vehicle."

[pappydaddy]

when i'm eighty (j.m.)

tv show/movie: outer banks | pairing: jj maybank x fem!pogue!reader

requested by a lovely anon as part of my 800 follower celebration

synopsis: y/n is exhausted and jj neglected the bike's gas tank. who knew it would lead to such a proclamation.

taglist: @luvhann | @thelakespoets  | @lonely-simp | @smarie7543 | @tenaciousperfectionunknown | @k-k0129 | @maybankslover | @taurusvic | @moralina | @verystarfishflower | @4dr1ana | @adr1an4 | @instabull | @poppet05 | @rottenstyx | @boxofsilentwords | @popeheywardssecretgf | @lexi-2004 | @i-always-come-back-xoxo | @rootbeerfaygo | @444lyra *line through your user means i could not tag you lovelies!

warnings: tears (exhausted) | karen situation mentioned | the lovely realities of a retail job

navigation | masterlist | taglist sign-up

- not my gif -

Sure, Pogue life was fun and relatively carefree, and Y/N wouldn’t trade her life for anything, but it did have its downfalls. Like when you see something you really like and you pick up extra shifts and work your ass off for it, but a Kook just has to ask their parents for it and boom - they have one they barely use or care for. Or when you accidentally spend too much money grocery shopping so now you have to pinch your pennies until next pay in two weeks. Or, like for Y/N right now, you have to work all day, every day because your crappy minimum wage job is severely understaffed and, even though they treat you horribly, you offer to pick up more shifts. 

  Y/N, right now, wasn’t too pleased with her status as a Pogue. Not when she is standing here, bored out of her mind and swaying on her feet as the middle aged Kook rambled on and on about something. Y/N wasn’t too sure what she was complaining about, truthfully, she stopped listening after the woman called her an incompetent child - which was the very first thing that came out of her pink smeared lips. 

  All she could actually focus on was how heavy her eyelids were, or how much she wanted to cut her feet off or just rip them right from her body. Or the dull ache that nestled itself right in the dip of her spine. Or how much she wishes she could just smash her kneecaps because, at this point, they were so tired and sore they were basically numb. It had been five days straight of her leaving school the second it was over and having her boyfriend, JJ, drive her to her work (a small hardware store), and then working to close. 

  She was exhausted, but she was falling behind on her road to buying a reliable car. Not the heap of rusted metal that has been sitting in her driveway for the past few months - completely broken. Luckily, because the owners did not want the possibility of being sued, they refused to let her work this weekend. That meant, once this woman was done with her tantrum, Y/N could get out of there and sleep for the foreseeable future. Well, at least until JJ had to get up for his shift delivering groceries tomorrow afternoon. She just hoped today wasn’t the one day JJ was late to pick her up. 

  “Mark my words, because you all know nothing, I will never come back here,” The lady slammed her hand against the counter Y/N stood at, the newly hired cashier shaking slightly behind her. “And I will be in contact with your manager and owner for reimbursement for any bills that come from this.” She sneered, gesturing to the empty bottle of antifreeze that was specifically made for diesel engines. That she put in her Land Rover. 

  “You have a nice night, the owner and manager will both be in after nine tomorrow morning.” Y/N drawled like a robot, ignoring the huff and snarky comment the woman made towards her for her lack of respect. There was no way in hell Y/N was apologising to her when Y/N and the manager were the ones who told the woman and her husband not to get that antifreeze, but her husband just wouldn’t listen. 

  “And I am telling them about your horrible behaviour towards me-” 

  “Ma’am,” Their night manager appeared from one of the aisles, looking annoyed. The clock had ticked by to read five minutes after close, meaning this woman was standing there ranting for over ten minutes. “We closed five minutes ago, if you have an issue, you can call and discuss this with our head manager and the owner tomorrow, but now you need to leave unless you want to front the money to pay us the overtime you are causing us because we won’t get paid.” He told her, pointing her towards the exit.

  She scoffed. “Of course I won’t pay you people to be incompetent at your jobs. I mean, how hard is it to sell people items? If anything, I should be getting money for you people for the damages you caused to my expensive Land Rover-”

  “Again, ma’am, you will have to bring that up with the people with more power than me,” The manager looked completely exhausted and annoyed with this woman. He grabbed the empty bottle from where she left it. “Now, you can either leave on your own or I will be contacting the authorities and they will remove you from the premises and you will be banned.” 

  He held out the empty bottle just before she snatched it, her nose turned up as she scoffed, turning on her heel and leaving out the door. “Okay, you two go, I will lock everything up.” He waved them off. Smiling thankfully, Y/N grabbed her thin sweater (which was JJ’s) and her empty plastic bottle of water, tossing it in the recycling bin.

  “Thank you, Gerry. Have fun tomorrow.” She waved bye to him as the new cashier trailed quietly behind her. Pulling the hoodie over her head, she left through the same door the woman had, seeing her fancy silver audi sitting in the parking lot. From inside, she could see her phone pressed to her ear as she yelled. 

  “Hey, sweets,” JJ greeted her, pushing off from the wall he leaned on. Y/N smiled, saying a quick ‘see you’ to the quiet girl as she bounded over towards her mother’s car. Her feet not moving, she held her arms open for JJ, signalling she wanted a hug. JJ complied, striding the short distance to her and wrapping his arms around her waist. Naturally, her arms rested on his shoulders, enjoying the relief and comfort his hug brought her. It was like every ache in her body left and the weight that was crushing her lifted. “Long night?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

  She hummed. “Long week.” She corrected him, snuggling into his chest. He laughed lightly, not wanting to jostle her as she clung to him. 

  “As much as I would love to stay here hugging, we should really get you some food then to bed.” JJ started to pull away. Whining, she released him, the growling and uncomfortable feeling in her stomach too persistent to ignore, but her face remained planted into his chest. 

  “Carry me to the bike?” Her voice was muffled as she spoke. 

  “Sorry, sweets, the bike needs gas and I don’t get paid until next week.” He informed her, hands on her shoulders and pulling her face from his chest, just enough for him to see her face. Instantly, he was met by a pout and a whine from her. 

  She blinked at him, puppy dog eyes in full effect. “But I’m too tired to walk, JJ.” She told him. And looking at her, he could see she was. The eye Bags under her eyes were so deep that the concealer couldn’t even hide them. Her shoulder drooped so much it looked like she was lugging a bookbag that weighed fifty tons on them. And, not to mention, the way her eyes blinked lazily, looking a second away from closing in slumber. 

  Aside from her appearance, he could tell over the past few days she was completely exhausted. The way she kept falling asleep on his shoulder at lunch or as they skipped their respective classes in favour of cuddles. She only skipped classes when she wasn’t sleeping properly or she was bored. The way she was extra clingy (like right now). Or how she nearly face-planted into her breakfast this morning. “I know, Sweets. But the bike didn’t even have enough gas to drive here.” 

  Sighing, tears welled in her eyes. A mixture of exhaustion and stress filled her, creating tears. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you to waste all that gas driving me here and back home.” She weeped, sniffling as she blinked frantically. 

  JJ, nearly shitting himself at the sight of tears, jumped out of his skin in fright. “No, no, Sweets. Don’t cry,” He shushed, wrapping her up in his arms so tight her eyes could pop out of their sockets (not really because he would never hurt her). She sniffled into his sweater, tears hitting his sweater. “I didn’t waste gas driving you. I can never waste anything when it comes to you. I let the tank get that low, it’s my fault. I thought I had enough but John B hit a pothole the other day and I needed to go help him change the tire, that’s where the gas went. It’s all John B's fault for being on the mainland and driving like an idiot.” He rocked them from side to side until the tears slowed and the sniffles seemed to quiet down.

  “John B made you drive all the way to the mainland to help him change the tire?” She asked, pulling her face from his chest, but his arms didn’t let go over her, keeping her pressed to him. Her eyes were watery and puffy, a red tinge to the whites of her eyes. Her face was puffy and blotchy, trails of dried tears running down her cheeks. 

  JJ nodded, moving his arms to grip her face, thumbs lightly rubbing the tear streaks. “Yeah. And the idiot also decided to take everything except the jack out of the van so we had to go get a lug nut wrench which ate up more gas.” 

  “He never learns his lesson, does he?” She laughed. It was wet, her mouth thick from the tears still. 

  “No, he doesn’t,” He whispered, his voice low as he stared at her. “Now, let’s get you home before you fall asleep standing here,” He stepped back, putting distance between them. She watched with furrowed brows as he turned his back to her, crouching down, practically kneeling on the sidewalk in front of the store. “Hop up.” He told her, arms to his side, stuck towards her slightly, waiting for her to climb onto his back. 

  “JJ,” She exclaimed. “You’re not going to be able to carry me all the way to John B’s!” 

  “Yeah I can. I’m eighteen, not eighty,” He told her, pointing to his back. Sighing, she knew he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. On top of that, he would find another way to carry her. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she hopped onto his back. His hands instantly gripped the bottom of her thighs, securing her there and he stood up to his full height. She let out a small squeal at the sudden change in height, kicking her feet slightly at the feeling of them not being on the ground. It always took her a second to get used to being held on his back. “And even when I’m eighty, I am sure as hell gonna still give you piggy back rides.” 

  “Sure, we’ll revisit that when you are hunched over because you gave me so many piggy back rides now.” She laughed, her arms lazily moving to rest closer to his neck, her chin resting on her bicep as he started to walk towards John B’s. 

  “Why do you think I am in such great shape? I am training to carry you around my whole life.” 

  “If that’s the case, might want to lay off the weed and the booze.” She poked him in the pectoral teasingly. He squeezed her thigh playfully back, laughing as she pressed a kiss to his cheek the best she could before resting her head back on her arm, letting the pattern of JJ’s gate relax her, her eyes growing heavier by the second. She really did hope that when they were eighty, they didn’t lose any of their playfulness - no matter if JJ could carry her or not.

[love-kurdt]

Swooping, Sloping, Cursive Letters: 10

word count: 637

PLEASE READ THIS IS ME TRYING FIRST, AS THIS STORY RELIES HEAVILY UPON THE CONTEXT OF TIMT

June 11, 1988

Dear Will,

It’s 2:03am right now, and I can’t fall asleep. You may be asking, “Why can’t you fall asleep, Michael?” Well, William, I can’t fall asleep because I keep thinking about how much I want to kiss you. And in case you didn’t know, I want to kiss you a lot.

I think about you and those fucking gorgeous lips almost every waking moment. And the urge to follow through with my desire to kiss you always gets stronger whenever you’re in the room. Which is unfortunate, since you’re always in the room now— specifically my room, because it’s summer, so of course we’re hanging out every day. We made that stupid promise to dedicate one-on-one time to just the two of us. If only “one-on-one” was synonymous with “you-on-me.” Or “me-on-you”…? Either would work for me, honestly. But there’s something about the thought of you straddling me and leaning your entire body weight onto me that makes me weak in the knees. I’m kind of glad your mom wanted you home tonight, because there’s only so long I can refrain from lunging into your space and holding your face in between my hands and

—

I swear to God you’re in my walls, Will. Because the second I went down the horniest tangent these letters have ever seen, your voice came through on my walkie, asking if I was still awake. Your breathing sounded congested and labored, like you’d just been crying. Of course, I threw my pen down onto my desk and answered. You told me you’d had a nightmare, and that I was the first person you thought of after you woke up. I know this is kind of fucked up, but I felt a small sense of pride that you hadn’t gone to El or Jonathan first. But then you told me that your nightmare had been about me, and that pride was instantly ripped out of my chest. Before I could apologize for anything Nightmare Mike could have said or done, you told me that I had been cursed by Vecna and you couldn’t save me in time. You broke down in the middle of describing my bones snapping, and all I wanted to do was hold you and tell you that it was okay, that I’m still here. So I did.

I snuck out and biked over to your house, climbed the trellis below your bedroom window, and knocked. You let me in with wide eyes, and I just stood there for a second, catching my breath. I am not athletic at all. I can’t say the same about you; your muscle definition in the tank top you were wearing made me feel a little dizzy. But this was not the time for pining, so I took a step towards you and pulled you in for a hug. You smushed your entire face into my sternum, and I could feel new tears wetting my shirt. I just held you tighter, rubbing my hand up and down your back as you cried. A while later, you pulled back to apologize, but I reassured you that it was okay before smoothing your bangs back and kissing you on the forehead. I thought you’d freak out at my impulsivity (at least, that’s what I was doing, internally), but you just smiled up at me and hugged me again. You probably chalked it up to me being a good friend. And I’m glad you think so. I’m trying to be a better friend.

I eventually had to go back home, since my parents are dragging me to see Nana tomorrow (today?) and they’d be mad if they found my room empty in the morning. I wish I could’ve stayed. I promise I’ll make it up to you sometime.

Love,

Mike

-

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[obxone]

Assumptions (Part 5)

Rewritten/Edited. ~2k words.

Master Page

Kiara enters her bedroom, a frown on her face and another bouquet in her hand. “Rafe is here.”

“Tell him to fuck off,” you mutter from where you lie on her bed. You close your eyes to ignore the onslaught of heat rushing through you that he is trying again. You had to block his number two days prior when he would not stop calling or texting. It has been too much, and he will not take any lack of response or harsh rejection as the clear answer to leave you be.

“Oh, believe me, I did.”

You smile faintly at her before rolling onto your back and looking at the ceiling. You know Rafe would stay on the porch for another hour, and if Kiara’s parents returned home to him, they would fall for his kook bullshit and invite him in. He had almost made his way in yesterday when Anna tried to be kind. You groan loudly before climbing out of her bed. “I’ll take care of it.”

“He’ll leave eventually.” She says as you shuffle out of the depths of her bed before taking the bouquet from her.

“Agreed, but he will come back tomorrow, or your parents will fall for his bullshit again.”

She watches you go, the annoyance clear in your demeanor as you walk down to the main door. You open it, and Rafe looks up from leaning on the railing. He looks a little more unpolished than usual. His normally perfect hair is mussed from running his fingers through it, and his shoulders are tense. He has the same shirt from yesterday, and you pick up the faint smell of alcohol.

“I want to talk.”

“I don’t,” you say sharply and throw the bouquet at him. The flowers slap against his chest before crashing onto the deck at his feet. “I don’t want them or you, Rafe.”

He opens his mouth, but you do not let him speak.

“Leave me the fuck alone. You are despicable!” You slam the door before going back up the stairs to Kie’s room. She frowns as you lean against her closed bedroom door.

“How did he even get his hooks into you? You are too fucking smart for him.”

“I don’t know,” you say before clearing your throat and ignoring the flood of fury and humiliation. Kiara is right, per usual, Rafe has managed to do what you thought impossible when he started paying attention to you. “Can we go to the Chateau? He would not dare come there.”

“Sure,” she smiles. “I’ll text the group, and we can go swimming.”

“Good,” you smile then, a weight leaving you as you go to your bag and pull out a swimsuit, tank top, and shorts. You change before walking with her down to the car. Rafe’s bike is gone. It is wishful thinking, but you can not help yourself. “Maybe he finally got the message.”

“Doubt it,” she says as she closes her door and starts the car. “It has been every day for the past four days.”

You frown. You had not realized the burden this situation was becoming to Kiara. She is your friend, and you should have been paying better attention. “I can go home, Kie.”

“No,” she says with a shake of her head. “No, that is not what I meant. You are staying with me until he does back off.”

You nod, looking away and pushing back the sting of tears. You would not cry over that asshole’s actions or allow Rafe to turn you into someone so self-involved that you did not see the impact it is on your friends. You have not even crossed that line with Rafe Cameron, and it already feels like you are losing yourself to him.

A visit to the Chateau and swimming all day before having a small party with fellow pogues is fixing you up a bit. You laugh at Tyler’s joke. He is a pogue you briefly ‘dated’ when you were twelve, and he was thirteen, almost fourteen. You had both promised marriage to each other when you were older and even swapped blue raspberry sour rings as a form of wedding bands. His body presses against yours as you lean against the side of the house. Your lips are swollen and tingling from his numerous kisses. Your body swims in bliss at his touches. He has matured and grown into a handsome guy, so you are not sad about your current predicament.

“You look pretty tonight,” he says, and you smile, tipping your face up to his. “Like really fucking beautiful.”

“Thank you,” your voice is thick with the bliss you were swimming in as you blush from his compliment.

“How I did not hang onto you four years ago, I will never know.” He jokes, and you laugh before hooking your arm over his shoulder.

“Hang onto me now.”

He leans in, and you kiss him. He kisses you back, and his hands pull you closer to him. You moan into the kiss, but you can hear your friends talking around the fire a few feet away.

“Should we stop her?” Pope asks, his worried brown eyes probably on you.

“No,” Kiara says, from her place next to another pogue she had just been kissing when Tyler pulled you away for some semblance of privacy.

“Let her have fun,” JJ says next. “She needs the distraction.”

John B makes a noise in agreement, and your smile against Tyler’s lips. You are not sure if it is the sting of the bet, the alcohol in your system, your friends’ encouraging comments, or Tyler’s touch, but you do not hesitate to slip your hand under his shirt and touch his bare skin. His defined abs are warm under your palm like the sun has permanently left a piece of itself inside him. He smirks into the kiss.

“Are you asking for more than a kiss tonight?”

“Maybe,” you tease before pecking his lips. “Are you open to the idea?”

“Very.” He kisses you, his hand moving to cup your face while the other wraps around your waist. Your fingers stay tangled in his hair as the other continues to drag across his abs.

“Don’t leave after the party ends,” you whisper against Tyler's neck.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You smile before pulling his lips back to yours in a toe-curling kiss. It ends, and you smile at him, your body tingling from his touch and promise for the night. “For now, though, I want another beer and maybe s’mores. Do you?”

“I can agree to that,” he offers with a grin. His eyes scan over the length of you before going to get you beers. You move towards the fire and lean down to hug Kie from behind.

“Are we staying tonight?” You ask.

“Yes.”

You grin, pressing your lips to the top of her head. You turn your attention to Tyler as he nears. “Guys, you remember Tyler, right?”

“Yeah!” JJ smiles at him, and they share a handshake. “Second best surfer on The Cut.”

You laugh and lean into his side as he wraps his arm around you after giving you a new beer.

“I try,” he offers shyly, and you beam at him. He is great, you had seen it, but you also know JJ will not say it if is not true. Surfing and JJ are as serious as they get.

— — — —

You have been home for a day when a knock pulls you from the movie you are watching. You sigh, pausing the movie before standing and going to the door. You unlock it and open it to see Rafe standing there. A wild look in his eyes as he looks over you. His gaze settles on a love bite visible on your neck.

“Rafe?”

“You fucked that pogue?” He asks. Your lips part in shock. “Really?”

You look behind him to see his motorbike in the yard, but no one else. You expected him to drag Kelce and Topper with him to help do his bidding. “How do you even know about that?”

“I saw it,” he says, and your eyes widen. It had been at the Chateau after everyone left the party, and the pogues had gone to bed. You had even taken it away from the house and been under the stars all night. “I came to John B’s when Kiara’s parents said you were out. No one was home, or so I thought, so I went to leave, but I heard you by the water. I checked to make sure you were okay, and I saw it!” He seethes, slamming his hands on the doorframe, and you flinch. His face screws up in anger as he stares at you.

“You came to the Chateau?” You question.

“Of course I did!” He lifts his hand to his chest.

“What I do is none of your business,” you reply, trying to keep your voice even. “It never has been.”

“I’m making it my business!”

“Well, that’s not an option,” you state before glaring at him. “Tyler and I like each other. He offered me a chance to forget you last night, and I took it. He asked me to be his girlfriend this morning, and I accepted.”

He recoils as if you have slapped him. “What?”

“I wanted to fuck him to get over you,” you say sharply. “But then we got to talking, and one thing led to another, and I like him. He’s a good person, unlike you.” You start to close the door, but he blocks it with his foot, his hand on the door. “Go home, Rafe, before I call the police.”

“No, we need to talk about this.”

“No, we don’t,” you respond, your tone ice cold. “I don’t want anything to do with you or this fucking wager.”

He runs his hands through his hair as he turns and walks a few steps away before returning. “It started as a bet, yes, but it changed.”

“Right,” you reply sarcastically. “I don’t believe you.”

He exhales, his hand curling into his chest. “I knew after the fight at movie night it was more than a bet. I could never hurt you-”

“You did!” You cut him off.

He groans, closing his eyes for a moment. “I fucked up, okay? I know that!” He opens his eyes, and his hands twist into fists. “But I can’t change that now.”

“You are right,” you agree before beginning to close the door. But again, he stops you.

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

“Because you are a selfish asshole!” You yell, your patience wearing thin, before trying to remove his hand from the door so you can close it. But he takes the opportunity to grasp your hand and pull you out into the sunshine. You groan as he stares down at you. Your bodies are barely an inch apart from one another. “Rafe, you have to stop. The bet is lost, I’m not going to sleep with you. And I have a boyfriend that cares about me instead of making a couple of thousand dollars.”

“I don’t fucking care about the bet anymore.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever.”

He groans, his hands pulling at his hair before he walks away. You notice the tension in his shoulders, the red in his neck and face from rage. His body is a rigid wall.

“You should go,” you repeat, trying to soften your tone to placate him. “My mom will be home in a bit anyways.”

He turns to you, his face morphing into something unreadable. “I will make you understand me."

You raise an eyebrow at him in question as he walks back to you. His large hand cups your face and pulls you forward. Your hands meet his chest to keep some distance before his lips brush your forehead.

“I will make you understand me. Every detail,” he breathes before letting you go and getting on his bike. He is gone within seconds, and you exhale a heavy breath before returning to the house. The movie starts again as you try to ignore the unsettled sensation in your chest at his parting.

Part VI

[mydarllinglover]

Alone || Picture to Burn

Previous

"So first I say something I've never done and if you have, you drink, and if you haven't, I drink. Then we switch" Beth explained the rules to Daryl. 

She had quickly got bored of their silent drinking, convincing the adults to play a drinking game around the table.

"You really don't know this game?" Beth asked.

"I never needed a game to get lit before."

"Seriously?" Natalia asked.

"Wait, are we starting?" Beth thought Daryl's reply was the start of never have I ever.

"How do you know this game?" He pointed at the blonde.

"My friends played. I watched. How do you know this game?" She asked Natalia.

"I was a teenage girl once."

"Okay. I'll start." Beth decided, she thought about it for a little bit. "I've never shot a crossbow. So now you drink."

Natalia didn't drink.

"Aint much of a game." Daryl said, picking up his drink and taking a sip.

"That was a warm up, now you go." Beth nodded at Daryl.

"I don't know."

"Just say the first thing that pops into your head."

"You don't have to think that hard about it." Natalia told him. 

"I've never been out of Georgia."

Natalia drunk.

"Really? Okay, good one." Beth then took a sip. "Okay, Nat, your turn."

Natalia clapped her hands together as she thought.

"Uhm... I've never lived on a farm." She shrugged, knowing this was something both of them did, even if it did end badly.

Beth and Daryl both drank, then it was Beth's turn again. 

"I've never... been drunk and did something I regretted."

Both Daryl and Natalia drunk

"I've done a lot of things." Daryl said.

"What did you do?" Beth asked Natalia.

"Well, incredibly embarrassing, I flashed a house party when I was 17, at the exact moment the cops decided to shut it down, as I was stood on the table with bra in hand... not my proudest moment."

"Did you get in trouble?" Beth asked, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Daryl, its your turn." Natalia turned to the redneck. 

"I've never been on vacation."

"What about camping?" Beth asked.

"No, that was just something I had to learn... to hunt."

"Your dad teach you?"

"Mhm."

"Okay." Beth shrugged as the two women drank. "Nat."

"Eurgh, uhm. I don't know, I've never rode a bike."

"Do you know how?" Beth asked.

"Nope, my dad died before he could teach me, so I never learned... my stepdad tried once but I kinda hated him as a kid."

"Why?"

"Cause my dad was dead and this random guy had moved into my house, also I was six. Once I grew up, he was cool." Natalia shrugged. "I was a total raging bitch to him, he was better than my moms other boyfriends, though.

"Did you have any siblings?" She then went on, Natalia kinda wished she'd just get on with her turn.

"No. I was enough for her, apparently too much." She scoffed.

Beth nodded, as her and Daryl drank. "I've never been in jail. I mean, as a prisoner."

Natalia could sense the change in Daryl's demeaner, but Beth hadn't seemed to clock on when she let out a short laugh.

"Is that what you think of me?" Daryl asked her.

"I didn't mean anything serious. I just thought, you know, like the drunk tank. Nat didn't you?"

"No, they took me home." She shook her head, picking at her fingers as the awkward tension surfaced.

"Even my dad got locked up for it back in the day." Beth tried playing her question off.

"Drink up." Daryl told her.

"Wait. Prison guard. Were you a prison guard before?"

Natalia rubbed her brow, wishing the girl would admit defeat.

Daryl stared at her before answering.

"No."

"It's your turn again."

Daryl tapped the table, standing up.

"I'm gonna take a piss." He decided walking across the room, dropping his glass down on the floor and letting it smash. 

"You have to be quiet." Beth reminded, her nerves picking up at the worry of walkers.

"Can't hear ya! I'm taking a piss!" Daryl raised his voice.

"Daryl, don't talk so loud." Beth continued.

"Beth, stop." Natalia tried to warn, keeping her voice low.

"What, are you my chaperone now?" He looked over his shoulder.

He zipped his pants up, turning around.

"Oh wait. It's my turn, right?" He asked rhetorically. "I've never, uh..."

"Daryl, just stop." Natalia told the man with a sigh, but he ignored her.

"I've never eaten frozen yogurt. Never had a pet pony. Never got nothing from Santa Claus." He smacked a chair. "Never relied on anyone for protection before. Hell, I don't think I've ever relied on anyone for anything."

"Daryl."

"Never sung out in front of a big group out in public like everything was fun. Like everything was a big game. I sure as hell never cut my wrists looking for attention." He sneered.

Natalia whipped her head to look at the pair, Beth looked humiliated that he said that.

"Daryl, you made your point." Natalia stood up. "Shut up."

The walker that was outside started snarling loudly, banging on the door.

"Oh, sounds like our friend out there is trying to call all of his buddies."

"Daryl, just shut up." Beth hissed.

He grabbed his crossbow from the hook it was hanging from, pointing at Beth.

"Hey, you never shot a crossbow before? I'm gonna teach you right now."

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her up and kicking the door open. 

"We should stay inside. Daryl, cut it out!" Beth tried to wiggle out of his grip. "Daryl!"

Natalia rushed after them, wishing they never played the stupid game.

"Dumbass. Come here dumbass." Daryl called to the walker, shooting an arrow into the walkers shoulder, pinning him to a piece of wood.

"Daryl."

"You want to shoot?"

"I- I don't know how" Beth's voice was shaky.

"Oh, it's easy. Come here. Right corner." He grabbed Beth, pretending to teach her how to use it as he shot another arrow.

She pushed him off of her.

"Let's practise later."

"Daryl, leave her alone." Natalia told him.

"Come on, it's fun. You're the one who keeps saying she needs to learn to take care of herself."

"Just stop it. Daryl." Beth cried out, as he reloaded.

"Come here." He pulled her towards him again, demonstrating as he shot it in the leg. "8 Ball."

"Just kill it!"

"Come here, Greene. Let's pull these out. Get a little more target practise." He walked towards the walker, but Natalia stopped him, running in front and plunging her knife in its head.

"What the hell you do that for, we was having fun!" He shouted at her.

"You're being an asshole, stop." She pressed a hand to his shoulder, pushing him away.

"You were being a jackass!" Beth took over. "If anyone found my dad."

"Don't." Daryl turned on her. "That ain't remotely the same."

"Killing them is not supposed to be fun.”

"What do you want from me, girl, huh?"

Natalia walked away, staying towards the door of the house, keeping a lookout whilst they got whatever pent up frustration and anger about Hershel off their chest's, but she could still hear them loud and clear.

"I want you to stop acting like you don't give a crap about anything. Like nothing we went through matters. Like none of the people we lost meant anything to you. It's bullshit!" She screamed.

"Is that what you think?"

"That's what I know."

"You don't know nothing."

"I know you look at me and you just see another dead girl, so does Nat, cause I'm not her. I'm not Michonne. I'm not Carol. I'm not Maggie. I've survived and you don't get it 'cause I'm not like you or them. But I made it, and you don't get to treat me like crap just because you're afraid."

"I ain't afraid of nothing." Daryl denied.

"I remember. When that little girl came out of the barn after my mom. You were like me."

Natalia was trying to piece together what Beth was saying, she must've been talking about Sophia.

"And now God forbid you ever let anybody get too close."

"Too close, huh? You know all about that. You lost two boyfriends, you can't even shed a tear. Your whole family's gone, all you can do is just go out looking for hooch like some dumb college bitch." Daryl raised his voice again.

"Screw you. You don't get it."

"No, you don't get it! Everyone we know Is dead!"

"You don't know that!"

"Might as well be, 'cause you aint never gonna see 'em again. Rick. You ain't never gonna see Maggie again."

"Daryl, just stop."

"No! The Governor rolled right up to our gates. Maybe if I wouldn't have stopped looking. Maybe cause I gave up. That's on me."

"Daryl." Beth tried to argue.

"No." His voice broke. "And your dad. Maybe... Maybe I could have done something."

The arguing had stopped.

Natalia leant against the wood, letting what he had confessed sink in.

It was night time, the three sat on the porch, peacefully in silence, Beth had brought a jar of moonshine, taking small sips now and again.

"We should start a club." Beth sighed.

"What sorta club?" Natalia asked her.

"The dead boyfriend club." Beth said, earning a snort out of the woman. "No offence, Daryl, but you don't qualify to join."

He looked at her, not saying anything.

"Alright Greene, I'll join your club." Natalia offered her hand to shake, which Beth shook. "The dead boyfriend club."

"I get why my dad stopped drinking." Beth admitted.

"You feel sick?" Daryl asked in a quiet voice.

"Nope."

"Be glad if you don't have a hangover in the morning, they suck." Natalia told her.

"I wish I could feel like this all the time." Beth confessed. "That's bad."

"Hmm. You're lucky your a happy drunk."

"Yeah I'm lucky. Some people can be real jerks when they drink."

"Yeah. I'm a dick when I'm drunk."

"Understatement of the year." Natalia commented.

"Merle had this dealer." Daryl started, after another moment of silence. "This janky little white guy. A tweaker. One day we were over at his house watching TV. Wasn't even noon yet and we were all wasted. Merle was high. We were watching this show and Merle was talking all this dumb stuff about it. And he wouldn't let up. Merle never could. Turns out  it was the tweakers kids favourite show. And he never sees his kids, so, he felt guilty about it or something."

Natalia started picking at her fingers as he talked.

"So he punches Merle in the face. So I started hitting the tweaker, like, hard. As hard as I can. Then he pulls a gun, sticks it right here." He pointed his finger at his temple. "He says, "I'm gonna kill you, bitch." So Merle pulls his gun on him. Everyone's yelling. I'm yelling. I thought I was dead. Over a dumb cartoon about a talking dog."

"How'd you get out of it?" Beth asked.

"The tweaker punched me in the gut. I puked. They both started laughing and forgot all about it." He finished his story. "You wanna know what I was before all this? I was just drifting around with Merle, doing whatever he said we were gonna be doing that day. I was nobody. Nothing. Some redneck asshole, and an even bigger asshole for a brother."

"You miss him, don't you?"

Natalia remembered that day, when her and Daryl found him, how she held him as he cried, then they got up and went back to the prison, never speaking about it again.

"I miss Maggie. I miss her bossing me around. I miss my big brother Shawn. He was so annoying and overprotective. And my dad. I thought, I hoped he just live the rest of his life in peace, you know? I thought Maggie and Glenn would have a baby. And he'd get to be a grandpa. And we'd have birthdays and holidays and summer picnics. And he'd get really old. And it'd happen, but it'd be quiet. it'd be okay." He'd be surrounded by people he loved." She laughed for a little bit, looking away from the other two. "That's how unbelievably stupid I am." She choked up, taking a swig of moonshine.

"You're not stupid." Natalia shook her head.

"That's how it was supposed to be." Daryl added.

"I wish I could just, change."

"You did." 

"Not enough."

"Not like you. Either of you. It's like, you were made for how things are now."

"I changed cause I lost the most precious thing in my life, I had to, cause who I was before, that wasn't enough, then a lot of bad shit happened in those 5 months I was by myself, I was forced into it." Natalia sighed. "Doesn't mean it was necessarily all for good."

"And, I'm just used to it, things being ugly." Daryl said. "Growing up in a place like this."

"Well, you got away from it." Beth tried to have a positive outlook.

"I didn't" Daryl denied. 

"You did."

"Maybe you got to keep reminding me sometimes."

"No. You can't depend on anybody for anything, right?" Beth reminded. "I'll be gone someday."

"Stop."

"Don't say that." Natalia looked at her.

"I will."

"You're gonna be the last man standing, and the last woman." Daryl stared at her, whilst Natalia shook her head. "You are. You're both gonna miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon and Natalia Moore."

"You ain't a happy drunk at all.”

"Yeah, I'm happy. I'm just not blind."

"Must be good moonshine, then." Natalia joked.

"You gotta stay who you are, not who you were. Places like this, you have to put it away."

"What if you can't?”

"You have to." Beth finalised. "Or it kills you." She pointed at her heart. "Here."

"We should go inside." Daryl decided.

"We should burn it down."

"Beth." Natalia went to disagree, but stopped herself.

Daryl stood up, grabbing the jar of moonshine.

"We're gonna need more booze." Daryl said, heading back inside.

Beth followed, then Natalia got up, trailing along.

The three undid the tops of the moonshine, splashing it across the place, covering the cabin in the liquid.

Natalia picked up the gun, putting it back around her shoulders, tying the crewneck jumper she picked up from the country club, around her waist, then continued.

They then continued to pour the last few jars on the porch, throwing the jars and letting them smash into thousands of pieces.

Daryl dug through his bag, picking up a box of matches and handing it to the teen.

"You wanna?" He asked her.

"Hell yeah." She grinned, taking the box and lighting a match.

He held out a wad of cash, letting her light it on fire, then he threw it at the cabin.

The three watched in victory as flames licked up the wood.

They then walked further away, knowing it was going to attract walkers, but stalled for a moment, continuing to gaze at the flames.

Beth smiled triumphantly, flipping the cabin off, then nudged the two next to her, gesturing for them to copy, which they did.

Natalia noticed the undead start to arrive.

"Gotta go." She muttered, turning back around and heading through the woods, Beth, pushed forward by Daryl, followed, him right behind her.

When the sky was blue, once again, Daryl decided to teach Beth how to use his crossbow properly, as well, how to track.

Natalia had enough lessons from the man about tracking, that she could handle, everything was a lesson if he was bored enough.

"Are we close?" Beth asked.

"Almost done." Daryl said in a low voice.

"How do you know?"

"The signs are all there." He explained. "Just got to know how to read 'em."

Beth lowered the crossbow, continuing the walk.

"What are we tracking?" She asked.

"You tell me." Beth turned around to look at him pointedly. "You're the one who wanted to learn."

"Use your surroundings, look at the clues oh young one." Natalia said in a deep wise voice, gesturing her arms around theatrically.

"I am." She glared at the woman, but turned to look at the ground. "Well, something came through here. The pattern is all zig-zaggy. It's a walker." Beth smiled.

"Maybe its a drunk." Daryl scratched his beard.

"I'm getting good at this." She ignored him. "Pretty soon I won't need you at all."

"Yeah, keep on tracking." He dismissed.

"Don't worry, I'll always need you." Natalia nudged him, teasingly. "Who else will skin animals for me, cause it's too gross."

"Whatever." He elbowed her back.

The three found Beth's walker, it was on its knees, eating something.

"It's got a gun." Beth pointed out, she raised the crossbow, aiming it at the walker as she inched closer.

Natalia pulled out a knife, just in case she needed to get involved, not like she didn't have faith in the girl, but you couldn't be too careful these days.

Beth continued to walk towards the walker, until something clanged, causing the girl to fall over just behind the feasting walker, catching his attention.

She managed to shoot the crossbow as he stood up, but it only flew into its cheek, not managing to do the job.

The two adults ran forward, Daryl yanked the crossbow out of the teenagers grasp, knocking the walker over the head with it as Natalia ran to Beth's aid, she managed to get her foot stuck in a foothold trap.

She tried to figure out what to do, but didn't have a clue to help the girl.

"Daryl." She called to him, who quickly turned around and dropped to the floor to help.

He undid the trap smoothly, pulling it off of Beth.

"Can you move it?" He asked as she tried to roll her ankle around.

"Yeah." Beth hesitated.

"We should wrap it, but we don't have anything, shit." Natalia cursed under her breath.

"Come on. We'll find a place." Daryl decided standing up and helping Beth.

He wrapped a hand around her side as she put an arm around his shoulders, so he could support her, Natalia took the lead, her knife in hand and keeping an eye out for walkers or shelter.

They left the woods, getting to a graveyard.

"Can we " Beth stilled. "Can we hold up a sec?"

Natalia turned around to see what was going on. 

"You alright?" Daryl asked her.

"I just need to sit down." Beth clarified.

Daryl tapped Natalia with his crossbow, gesturing for her to take it, which she did.

"Alright. Hold up." He said, before kneeling down in front of Beth his back to her. "Hop on."

"Are you serious?" Beth asked him.

"Yeah. This is a serious piggyback. Jump up." He told her.

Beth did as she was told, hopping onto his back so that he could carry her the rest of the way.

"You're heavier than you look." He mused. As the two continued to walk.

"Maybe there are people there."

"Yeah, if there are, I'll handle them."

"Or I'll kill them." Natalia shrugged.

"There are still good people, y'know."

"I don't think the good ones survive." Daryl thought out loud.

"Or they live long enough to grow out of it." Natalia added.

They walked past the graves, before Beth jumped down from Daryl's back, stopping in front of one headstone in particular.

Daryl took a step back, bending down to pull at some flowers, before moving towards the headstone and laying them on top.

The headstone was dedicated to a beloving father.

Beth reached out, lacing her fingers with each person who was stood by her side, as they took a moment of silence for the man who was brutally lost.

Eventually, they got their barings and carried on, Beth had hopped back on to Daryl's back.

Natalia reached the door of the tall white house first, pushing it open and banging hard on the wall.

Nothing stirred in the house.

Daryl stepped forward, letting out a sharp whistle.

"Give it a minute." He said.

They entered the quiet house, not seeing signs of anything, but it was remarkably clean and well kept.

"Its so clean." Beth spoke Natalia's thoughts out loud.

"Yeah. Someone's been tending to it." Daryl said, as he looked around, still. "May still be around."

He walked into one room, the other two followed.

It was set up like a funeral, chairs sat In lines, facing an open casket, a body sat inside.

"Not creepy at all." Natalia commented.

Daryl ran his fingers across the mans face, his skin was mushy, and moved with his touch.

They left the room, exploring the house more and found a staircase that went down.

Another room contained dead bodies in suits, but it looked like a work lab.

Daryl went through the cupboards.

"Lets get that ankle wrapped." He told Beth, finding what he needed.

Beth and Natalia were too busy staring at the bodies.

"Looks like somebody ran out of dolls to dress up." Daryl said.

"It's beautiful." Beth corrected.

"It's making my bones itchy." Natalia shivered.

"Whoever did this cared. They wanted these people to get a funeral. They remembered these things were people before all this. They didn't let it change them in the end. Don't you think that's beautiful." Beth asked.

"I don't like to think about it too much." Natalia dismissed, walking back upstairs.

Natalia found the kitchen, rifling through the cupboards, when Daryl and Beth finally made it back upstairs.

"You find anything?" Beth asked.

"Yeah, but I don't know if it's much good, or just proving that whoever lives here is a psychopath." Natalia replied, showing off the full cupboard of; Pigs feet, Peanut butter and Jelly, diet soda.

"That's a white trash brunch right there." Daryl took a jar of Peanut butter.

"It all looks good to me."

"No, hold up." Daryl paused. "Ain't a spec of dust on this.”

"So?"

"That means somebody just put it here."

"And they couldn't of got better stuff?" Natalia asked. "I'm allergic to peanuts."

"Nah, this is someone's stash. Maybe they're still alive." Daryl explained. "Alright, we'll take some of it and we'll leave the rest, all right?"

Beth put a can down, before smiling at Daryl. "I knew it."

"Knew what?" Daryl asked her.

"It's like I said. There are still good people."

Daryl undid a jar of jelly, dipping his fingers in before pouring it into his mouth.

"Gross." Beth moved away, undoing a jar of peanut butter.

"Hey, those pigs feet are mine." Daryl claimed.

"And I'll have... diet soda." Natalia sighed, taking down a bottle.

"Are you seriously allergic to peanuts?" Beth asked, making sure to keep the jar far away, and not contaminate any area's.

"Deadly serious." Natalia blinked. "It's genetic, my dad was too."

"Was your kid allergic?" She asked.

"I'm gonna set up some cans outside, make sure we'll know if anyone comes by." Natalia walked out the room, dodging her question.

Natalia was tying a string full of cans to the banister of the porch, when Daryl stepped outside.

"Hey." He announced his presence.

"I'm almost done." She told him.

"Came to check you were alright."

"Fine." Natalia replied, pushing hair out of her face.

"If she upset you, she didn't mean to."

"No, no, she's good, I'm fine, honest."

"Alright." Daryl, picked at his fingers, finally deciding to come clean after nearly seven months.

"Are you alright?" Natalia asked, finished with her job and wondering why he was still hovering.

"Yeah, I got something for you."

"If it's peanut butter, I wasn't kidding." She pointed at him.

"Nah, but it reminded me of something." He chewed on his thumbnail. "Been holding onto something for a while."

"Uhm, okay?" Natalia said, nervous about where this was going.

Daryl searched one of his pockets, pulling out something.

"Y'know when Judith was born, and we went to that place to get her formula."

"Yeah " The place where she confessed to Daryl about her past. 

He shuffled around before deciding to slap the picture in her hand, waiting for a reaction.

Natalia could read the words on the back, preparing herself to turn it around.

"Why do you have this?" Natalia asked, her voice was small and meek.

"Found it in that kitchen." He confessed.

"But why do you have it?" She repeated her question.

"I thought maybe you'd want it or something."

"You've had this for seven months, why are you only now giving it to me?"

"I was planning on it ages ago, but then after everything, I forgot."

"But its been in your pocket this whole time." She stared at the picture, her finger running over it. "You had no right to have this"

Daryl was thrown off by this.

"Huh?"

"Daryl, there's a reason I didn't take it." She looked at him through her lashes. "I can't believe you."

"I thought you'd want it to remember her."

"You thought wrong. What? You expected me to want to remember that she's been dead for 15 months, that she suffered and was ripped apart by her own father cause I was stupid enough to pick fault in the middle of shit? That she cried and my mind chose to blank it out, cause my mother told me "Don't go to her every time she cries, she'll just get clingy, like I was." I'll never get her back, I'll never forget that night or how, how-" Her voice cracked, she couldn't finish her sentence. "I can't look at this without imagining what she looked like when she..."

"Nat " Daryl went to touch her, but stopped himself.

"I'm sorry." She covered her face, wiping at her eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"S'fine." He shook his head, looking anywhere but at her.

Natalia took a few deep breaths, trying to compose herself.

"Have you still got those matchsticks?" She asked.

"Why?"

"I never let myself mourn her, and I want to burn the picture, as, like, a last send off or something, I don't know, it's stupid."

"Mhmm nah, it ain't stupid" he disagreed, digging around in his pockets for the box of match sticks, handing it to her.

"You can go inside, thank you though, and sorry." She said, climbing over the string of cans to sit on the steps.

Daryl stepped over as well, joining her.

"You were there for me, when Merle... so I'm here for you." He looked at her.

"Okay, whatever." She brushed off, setting the picture down on the ground.

Her hands shook as she pulled a matchstick out, flicking it against the rough side of the box, before hovering it over the corner of the picture and watching it catch the flame and begin to fold from the heat.

Natalia then dug through on of the pockets in her cargos, bringing out a box of cigarettes, placing one between her lips and offering one to Daryl, who took one, before using the still lit matchstick to light his then hers.

"To Winnie." She sighed, inhaling the smoke.

The two sat out there and smoked, whilst watching the photograph of Natalia's past disintegrate, much like the cabin in the woods for Daryl.

Daryl tensed up when the woman leaned her head on his arm, linking hers through his elbow, but refused to let himself think much of it.

Next

[murderbees]

Felt like writing something sad, so here you go. Kinda messy but oh well

What if: the page never came

———

It ends with a click.

It's simple really, there just wasn't a reason to keep the arcade running. 20 years of holding that pager and those damn keys, and Alan had finally handed them over. The last bastion of Flynn's era. The keys twist, warm in his hands while the beaten leather label knocks against his knuckles.

"I should have given you these a long time ago." Alan's hands held out the keys. His skin cold where it pressed against Sam's hand. Alan was tall, but in that moment, he seemed to shrink inside his trenchcoat, dwarfed in long fabric and buisness clothes. He looked tired and resigned. Sam didn't known what to do. He should have said something, something comforting. Alan had been there all his life.

All he managed was "Thanks, Alan" and a nod.

He stares at the wall. There's the circuit brakers, the lifeblood of the building. All the lights, every room, everything that made Flynn's Arcade so special, gone with a flick. Part of him wishes he could run it, that it would be alive again, kids with quarters, greasy food and vending machines, with a mysteriously sticky linoleum checkerboard floor, but he's not the type. He isn't his father, no matter how much people wish he was.

There's no reason to keep the electricity running. He flicks them, one by one, watching the arcade lose it's last life. No going back. Click, click, click, click, and he's finished the column. Several more and it seems like everything should be dead. The last switch, basement, the label reads. He doesn't remember a basement, but how important is that now? His finger rests on the switch, ready.

With a body deep sigh, the final click resounds through the backroom.

The grid shakes. Every program, no matter how complex or simple- glitch, even the bits - know that something is deeply wrong. It rattles through their code and for a second all is silent and still.

Then starts the whispers, then the screams, as the edges of the grid start to crumble and crack. The power flickers, the crackling energy in the sky dims and dies. The world is lit by the dim circuits of buildings and the flaring of panicking programs.

By the time most try to evacuate, the ground flickers into wireframe and falls into abyss, them along side the fracturing pieces of their world. Two light trails burn across the sky, gold and orange. Those left point and rezz their vehicles, bikes, tanks, jets, and race after the already disappearing trails. A startlingly bright white trail joins the journey, but there's not enough time to worry or theorize.

A group of programs stop at the shore, staring out at the sea and the jets soaring far past what they can see. Behind, a crack shakes the air, and they look at each other. There's nothing to say. A duo clutches at wach other, burying their heads and falling together.

The trails die off, one by one. Green faltering, flashing once before spiraling down and down. The sea below yawns open and swallows the ship whole. Another sparks, it was never made to go this far, and certainly not this fast. The wing explodes and it hurdles into one of many floating rock columns. It's messy but quick. A ping floats through the general channel "Where are we going?"

The programs are silent, but the world is screaming. The wind whistles and tears at the ships, clawing several down into the roaring waves. Behind them rings the shattering landscape, wireframes larger than the I/O tower disappear behind crashing water, splintering fractals beat against their windows in a jingling cacophany.

Barely visibly against the dead sky looms the portal. Clu lands, jumps out his jet and lets it crash and derezz against the stone. Rinzler rolls to a stop, jet baton stored neatly against his thigh. By the time he's stood next to Clu, a wide array of displays and systems fill the air. Clu furiously types, searches, and clicks. There is no current threat, Rinzler shifts and faces the sea, watching for any potential threat.

Most programs have never heard of, much less seen the portal. A streak of lightning crashes behind. It's a threatening and hopeful structure. A few ships screech as they pull up and to the side to avoid crashing, one makes it.

Two ships land, one overshoots and warbles down into the depths. Flynn and Quorra scramble out of their jet, frantic. Another program falls out of a cockpit. They run up the stairs toward the dim yellow light.

The program reaches the top first, blue circuits flaring bright, their joyful shout is cut short. Happiness turns to pain as their dock shatters into cubes, an orange disc sweeps through the air and back. The pieces rain down on the User and Iso.

Rinzler stands at the ready, disc already split and spinning in his deadly hands. Quorra's sword whirrs in her hand, prepared to deflect and take a hit for Flynn, who's frozen where he stands. The sparse orange lights of Rinzler's suit flash, the mechanical purr rising in pitch as Flynn presses a hand against the wall. "What happened to you?"

No one moves, stalemate. Clu's angry shout fills the silence. The next crash of the crumbling world is closer than ever before. Rinzler sprints across the bridge, joining Clu's side before Quorra and Flynn reach the top of the stairs.

"No! This should have worked. I was so close!" Clu's hands reach up, disc slotted neatly between his hands. The portal is dark and dead. He throws it down, watches it cut through the stone and stick halfway. On the otherside of the bridge, Flynn steps forward, pushing Quorra behind him.

"Clu." His head whips faster than the wind, an angry snarl cutting across his face. Clu's steps are heavy and furious. Quorra levels her sword.

"This is your fault." Clu's hands bury into Flynn's robes, choking and bringing their faces close. This is not the grand win he was meant to have. He was going to have his perfect victory, and now they'll die on a piece of floating rock hurtling toward the sea.

"It is." Flynn doesn't fight back, doesn't raise a hand, he just stands and lets Clu shake. Quorra and Rinzler stare at each other, weapons still prepared.

This is it. They're all that's left. The bridge gives out.

Sam closes the panel and lets his forehead lay against the cool metal. It's over. He checks his phone, it's late, he still needs to feed Marv.

At the doorway, he takes one last look. The rows and rows of dead and outdated arcade games, the still sticky yet dusty floor, and the dim streetlight filtering in through closed blinds and old air, it makes him nostalgic. Flynn's arcade is a bygone era, just like his time as a CEO. Things have changed. He has changed.

Sam closes and locks the door. When he drives off, he doesn't look back.

[themummersfolly]

Mr. Harley

Inspired by that bit of meta by @lesbianpraetor.

There must be justice, if a new world is going to rise from the ashes. And in the Wasteland, the only justice is retribution.

Bullet Farm is in shambles. A quarter of the foremen are dead, killed first thing by Dementus to make a point; the rest, along with the miners, are being held underground, cowed but hardly cooperative. Add to that the loss of cranes and mining equipment, and the ruin of the refining facility, and Dementus’ great strategic coup has left them with little more than a hole in the ground. It’s taken an even greater expense of fuel, but they finally have the two responsible for it all: Praetorians, Immortan Joe’s errand boys.

Dementus rants and raves, beating on the overturned ute as they drag the semiconscious road warriors out. He’s shot; her arm is bloody, sleave torn to pieces, a new elbow halfway down her forearm.

Mr. Harley holds them up, kneeling in the dirt, as his boss continues his tirade. He’s tired. The seizure of Bullet Farm took all night, and keeping the population under control meant he’s had no chance since then to sleep. It’s not as though it’s better at Gastown; for the past six months it’s been a different riot every week, and they’re all exhausted. He’s talked it over with Mr. Davidson more than once.

“Seems like the Octoboss had the right idea, cutting his losses. He always was the first to see the writing on the wall.”

“Yeah, and look what happened to him and the rest of the Mortifiers. If they didn’t stand a chance, then we sure don’t.”

“Die out there with our boots on, or die here, strung upside down from a gibbet.”

It always comes back to resources. The Citadel, Gastown, Bullet Farm: food, guzzoline, ammo, and plenty of them. In leaving, the Octoboss had given up easy access to them, and it was starvation that ultimately led him to attack a war rig. As long as they stay in the triangle of the three fortresses, they have a shot at building their own place of abundance. If only Dementus can get everyone else to cooperate.

“Where were you going, so full of hope? There is no hope!”

It isn’t directed at him, but it still stings. Hope was the only reason they’d followed Dementus: hope for protection and stability and a full belly, hope for abundance. Beside him, Mr. Norton helps jerk the two apart with vicious glee. He wishes Dementus would stop talking. A bullet in each of their heads, and then back to the Farm to unfuck this mess.

No one is getting that lucky today.

“String her up, I want her to watch for a while.”

Mr. Harley does what he’s told, as he’s always done, but he’s barely begun to wrap the chain around her wrist when Dementus is in his face.

“No, the other one!” Dementus jerks the chain out of his hands and hands it to Mr. Norton. “You losing your touch?”

He doesn’t meet his boss’s eyes, doesn’t point out that her mangled arm probably won’t hold her weight, doesn’t ask why they’re wasting time and fuel when Gastown is on the verge of conflagration. A real hard man, he might have. Mr. Harley doesn’t dare.

Dementus turns away from him as the winch engages and lift the captive to her tiptoes behind the Six-Foot. Mr. Norton grins at her handywork. Shards of bone are visible, the shredded flesh barely holding together. Mr. Harley has seen worse, but for whatever reason the sight make him want to puke.

“You’re revving on an empty tank if you stay here,” the Octoboss had snarled the last time they had ever seen him. “That dropkick Dementus, everything he touches turns to shit.”

Round and round the riders go, long past what’s needed to kill a man. Even Mr. Norton gets bored, putting her head down on her bike to nap. The sun dips lower. Gas tanks slowly empty.

There is no hope!

There can be a lot of satisfaction in making your enemy suffer, and Dementus has some good ideas about it. But after a certain point, you have better things to do.

“Goddam bitch,” he mutters, and goes to check on the captive. She’s still breathing, and steadily enough that he knows she’ll keep doing it. Her damaged arm looks longer than it did; her feet are now resting full on the ground, and he knows the winch wasn’t lowered. There can’t be much holding it on at this point. He ties a kerchief around it, twisting a shank in the knot to tighten it, then draws his knife. The girl lets out a sound like she’s choking, but once he’s finished cutting she gets back to breathing more or less regularly. He holds her upright by those flashy praetorian leathers.

The boys are still playing ring around the dead fucker with her partner. Mr. Norton lifts her head from her bike, too-bright eyes landing on him. He jerks his head toward the outside of the circle; no trouble, he’s just going to rape her a little before the others join in. The oncoming bikers slow to let him pass.

Ten paces away, she’s woken up, or at least gotten her feet under her. The wrecked ute lies upside down in a ditch; one of the dirt bikes lies on its side, undamaged. Mr. Harley gives the girl a shove and she lands on her knees. He reaches down, rights the bike, and drags her back to her feet. There’s a wrench in her utility belt, clearly something meant for the war rig. He plucks it out and walks away, leaving her propped unsteadily against her means of escape.

If there’s no hope, then he’s got nothing to worry about. If there is, well, then Dementus can get fucked.

The circle of death continues around him, precious guzzoline turning to exhaust as the sun dips toward the horizon. Mr. Norton is back to napping on her bike. He gets to work on the rear wheel of the Six-Foot.

Like what I'm doing? Buy me a coffee!

[turtle--soup]

Watching TMNT Next Mutation episodes 5 and 6

Stream of consciousness liveblogging below the cut. If you're into that.

One of my favourite things about Next Mutation is the cartoon sound effects when the credits come up at the beginning of the show. Like I don't understand people who see that and expect anything after that point to be sensible.

Not a fan of dragon guy. But his little puppet friend? Different story entirely. What are their names? I wish I knew.

They're all sleeping on top of each other top to tail lol that's adorable

The sexy bike shots again lol my favourite character - Raph's bike 😘 🏍

Raph's just trying to help... why tf does every interaction between Leo and Raph end up with them fighting? Like they are literally beating each other up rn

They have an alarm to tell them when there's trouble and it's made with lights off a police car I love that!

Ooh sexy jeep shots too. They sell toys of these things?

"Raph and roll??" Did he just say that? Loser. 🤣 I love him

"Noisy ninjas! Next they're going to want a helicopter or maybe a tank" Splinter my guy you do not want to watch your boys later shows...

Donnie's portable detector thingy looks like it's made out of a Tiger R Zone Super Screen painted green??

"Don't call me Shirley" asdghghfgdgk this boy

I love Donnie so much he's such good quality.

They're all so dumb

"This is called the duck. Quack quack!" Donnie again. I feel like he's channelling 90s movie Don but he's possibly funnier.

Love it when Leo and Raph play nice they're a good team. Please stop making them fight I get it they disagree sometimes

Mega shellaaaaage!

"What are you up toooooooooo?" Bro wtf was that line delivery dragon dude? Hilarious.

Aw they're hugging 🥺

Leo is trying so hard to be meaningful and deep here but the scriptwriter is against him, poor guy.

Green... Time? OK.

--

They all sound like bagpipes when they meditate... Huuurrrrmmmmmmnnnmnmmnn

Venus fucking around with Raph lol fair enough. She doesn't deserve to have to put up with *gesturing at everything* this

God this script... who are they aiming this show at? Oh no wait... probably Power Rangers fans. That's why I'm still here. I'm immune.

I think they're trying to give Leo his classic anxiety but they're also trying to be like THESE GUYS ARE SO MACHO GRRRR so it's like Oh No I SUCK I Ruined Everything Time To Break A Chair

"My music's different too..." this could be such a cute moment but Splinter is beating him up now as well... 😩 Like I get it, but come on. The tonal whiplash you can get during the course of one line in this show is incredible.

These SOUND EFFECTS omg TA DAAAAA

It's like they have to be talking ALL the time.

Donnie can make radar noises apparently.

Is puppet guy sitting on dragon dude's lap? Aw.

Honestly Venus is op. I have my issues with them throwing in extra turtles (I don't like change! And I always have reservations when they introduce girl characters to a mostly male cast, even now...) but she's fun and interesting and her powers are ridiculous. Can't help but wonder how much of the hate she got (and still gets from some people) is just like the kind of thing that happened with Furiosa when Mad Max Fury Road came out. Hmm...

God I wish I had more free time to watch this idiotic show I am enjoying this more than I should but it's also kiiiinda frustrating ngl