#if you think finding a pile of shit on the ground is funny

[demonicseries]

of course he has a Wolverine Christmas sweater

[lou-struck]

'Family Photo'

Katsuki Bakugou, Eijirou Kirishima, and Denki Kaminari x reader Roommate AU!

W.C: 1.8k

~Denki disrupts your cozy afternoon at home to drag your household to the mall for a seasonal suprise.

“If anyone asks, you were the one who put this shit on, not me.” Katsuki Bakugo’s gruff voice warns from the other end of the light grey sectional. 

“It’ll be our little secret,” you smile, sinking deeper into the cushions.  You had gotten home from work earlier than anticipated today and came across the blond Pro-Hero engrossed in a cheesy christmas rom com, although this wasn't the first time you have caught him watching the Hallmark channel, he still tried to tell you that it was an accident. 

You continue to watch the screen in comfortable silence, engrossed in the cookie cutter plot of 

Cozy Sweater Gal and Big City Guy trying to save their hometown's bakery before the Christmas tree parade.

“Oh come on,” Katsuki mutters as the Sweater Girl forces another gingerbread themed pun, this time making Big City Guy laugh out loud for no apparent reason. “That joke isn't any better than the twenty other ones she made.”

“Oh come on Katsuki,” you huff throwing a pillow at the explosion hero. “They are falling in loveee, that’s why he suddenly thinks she’s funny.” 

“Whatever,” he mumbles, tucking the pillow under his chin. “I’m never gonna lose my great fuckin sense of humor.”

A strange feeling tugs at your chest at his words but you push him a bit farther. “Just wait, one day you’ll find someone and think they are the funniest person on the planet when no one else does.”

“You’re not tha~” He mumbles, whatever declaration your friend and roommate was about to make was suddenly interrupted by the front door bursting open. The cold winter air sending your pile of mail flying off the entry table. 

“Oh shoot my bad guys, the wind is going crazy out there,” your other roommate Eijirou Kirishima says, shutting the door and crouching down to pick up the scattered envelopes. While the crimson-haired hero is distracted, a pink cheeked Katsuki tossed the remote over to your side of the couch to hide the evidence. 

“How was your patrol Eiji?” you ask as he shucks off his jacket and joins you on the couch. 

“Cold, no matter how much I moved around I just couldn't get warm.” he rubs his hands together. “I think I’ll need to get my winter suit updated soon.”

“I think~” you are once again interrupted by the door swinging open, this time Denki Kaminari stumbles across the threshold, too focused on the armload of bags he is carrying to notice the clanging sound of wood on wood behind him.

Despite not having patrol or any hero related duties today, Chargebolt looks worse for wear. His yellow hair sticks out every which way as his cheeks are pink from the cold wind. His long scarf clings unevenly to his form as one side of it nearly drags along the ground. He didn't have patrol or anything so you really don't understand why he looks like he just got swept up into a tornado.

“God, we need to get a better doorstop,” you mutter, getting to your feet to help your third and final roommate with his shopping bags. “Here Denki, let me help you,”

His eyes go wide and he shuffles just beyond your reach. “Don’t look at them!” It’s quite a show watching him kick off his snow crusted shoes and stumble off to his bedroom to hide what must be Christmas presents. 

“Woah, what was that all about?” Kiri asks, flinching slightly as the wind takes hold of the door and slams it loudly. 

“Who knows?” you respond, settling back on the couch between your two roommates. “Denki loves Christmas more than anyone so I’m sure we’ll find out soon.”

~

20 minutes later, your legs are resting comfortably against Eijirou as you sneakily reach across Katsuki’s lapto steal another handful from his popcorn bowl. The blond pretends not to notice but you can see the hint of an amused smile on his lips as he keeps his eyes trained to the screen.

None of you are sure when you got so comfortable with each other, but things are perfect the way they are. 

Or so you tell yourself.

“This one is pretty good,” Eijirou says, watching as Big City gets the honor of lighting the town's ceremonial Christmas tree after the parade. 

“I agree,” you hum contentedly, not noticing your third roommate coming back into the room until he is standing directly in front of the screen. Now in view, you seee that his hair looks much better and he has changed his clothes. 

“Hey Dunce Face,” Katsuki growls, narrowing his eyes, “You’re blockin the screen. Move.”

Normally the threat would be enough to get Denki to scurry to the side without a second thought, but this time he stays strong. “Don’t care,” he grins, unplugging the tv from the wall. “Get up. We gotta get going before they close.”

Your eyes look between your other two roommates in confusion. “Where are we going?”

“To the Mall,” he declares, dramatically pointing toward the door. 

“What? Weren't you at the mall earlier today?”

“Exactly” he grins, which is why you all need to get up and come with me right now.”

“Why?” Eijirou asks, already sliding on his shoes. Out of everyone, you know he is the most in the mood for a spontaneous adventure.

“No questions, just come with me.”

“Hell no, do you know how crazy the mall is right now you idiot.” Katsuki says definitely pulling a blanket over his lap to prove that he has no intention of leaving the comfort of the couch. 

Denki’s lip quivers slightly, but his smile never falters. “Oh come on Man, if you come with me right now, I’ll do dishes for a month.”

“Damn,” The redhead mutters as both your and Katsuki’s eyes widen. 

Dish duty is no joke in your house.

~

The mall is crowded, but Denki weaves through the masses like a man on a mission. If it weren't for his bright yellow hair making him stand out like a beacon, you would lose him. 

“Slow down dumbass,” Katsuki yells following the eager man, not caring to mind his language. “You were the one who dragged us here.”

“Here,” Kiri says, grabbing your hand gently, “Stick with me so we don’t get separated.”

Butterflies fill your stomach as you nod and allow him to guide you through the crowd until you find where the other two ran off to. 

A photo studio, portraits of siblings, couples, sports teams, and families line the white walls with picture perfect grins and unsettlingly stiff posture. At the front desk sits an older woman wearing a bright green turtleneck sweater and dainty looking spectacles that reflect the computer screen.

 “I’m bacckkk,’ he cheers stepping onto the carpeted floor. “And I brought my roommates, just like I told you I would.” 

His big dopey grin brings a smile to the woman's face as she pushes back her chair. “You sure did, are you all ready for your Session?”

Once again, you are remarkably confused, but he just nods ignoring the puzzled expressions on your faces “Yes we are. Do you still have that bag I brought in earlier, Mai?”

The woman, who must be Mai nods and pulls out a large white paper shopping bag from under your desk. “Here you are, please be careful with putting them on. I don’t want you getting glitter all over my floor.

“Not a problem,” he grins, pulling out four sparkly red garments from the bag for all to see. 

“Let’s see here, this one is Kiri’s” he begins tossing the first bundle at the redhead's chest. 

“What’s this?” he murmurs, unfolding the garment until you realize it is an extremely ugly christmas sweater. He slides it over his head over his spiked hair without complaint. a bright red christmas sweater covered in embroidered snowflakes made of white yarn. Your red haired roommate takes it with confusion but has no objections to sliding the garment over his spiked hair. 

“Katsuki.” he sputters out quickly and tosses the garment in the blonde’s face before he can run. “Mine… anddd y/n.” he hands your sweater to you with a wink. “Have you figured out my brilliant plan yet?”

You nod as you toy with the heavy material. A bit of cheap glitter sticks to your hands but you don’t mind. “I think I’m getting there, you want us all to take a picture together.”

“You got it,” he says, his citrine eyes sparkle as they drift down to your neck, “ it looks like you have a tag, here let me take care of that for you.” his calloused fingers brush against the back of your neck, tucking the stray tag in. 

“Thanks.” you say in a small, suddenly self conscious voice. “You just saved me from having an ugly sweater malfunction.”

“Don’t mention it,” he grins. “But I don’t think it can be called an ugly sweater when you’re wearing it though.”

Hit flirty remark warms your cheeks as your fingers anxiously fiddle with the itchy sleeve. But you don’t even have a chance to respond before Katsuki’s loud voice interrupts your thoughts. 

“What the hell are these for Dumbass?”red glitter dusts his hair and face but it’s a pretty good look on him. 

“Our christmas cards.” Denki says brightly, “I thought that since we have all been living together for a while we should send out a christmas card. 

“Isn't that such a great idea?” you say brightly, and the Blond shuts his mouth and wordlessly readjusts the sweater he has been encouraged to wear. 

Mai leads you down the fluorescent lit hallways into the third studio on the right, when the door opens, you expect to see something akin to a family photoshoot setup in the early 2000’s but instead you are met with an adorable little photoshoot setup. A carefully decorated Christmas tree gleams in the ring lighting as a man in a Santa suit drinks from a bottle of water by a faux fireplace. He pulls his fake beard over his chin and waves at you. 

“Santa is here!” the redhead exclaims happily rushing up to the costumed man to give him a high five. His eagerness is adorable, and you find yourself smiling. 

“Can’t believe I'm doin this.” Katsuki grumbles as you walk in the camera’s view. “Haven't had a Santa picture since I was three.”

“Three?” you parrot, “that’s pretty young.”

His lips curl into a devilish smirk as his eyes gleam with nostalgia. “Yeah, we had to stop because I bit the Bastard. The old hag was furious but it made for a great christmas card.”

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network

[tomionefinds]

Fluff/Soft Fics

Things are hard. Here are some softer Tom, some humorous, and some fluffy fics to cuddle with. Graphic by Mod April - TF Team

Just Another Girl Alone at the Bar by Spork_in_the_Road

M | Complete | 8k

“Oh Ron-Ron, you’re too funny,” a feminine voice says, giggling. Hermione thinks she might vomit. In which Hermione pretends Tom is her boyfriend until he actually is.

Hot Lips by nauticalparamour

E | One-shot | 3k

When Tom Riddle finds out that Hermione Granger has a phone sex line, his first inclination is to use it to blackmail her. But, once he gets her talking, he doesn't want it to end.

Forever Means Forever by cocoartist

T | Complete | 7k

If she ever saw Unspeakable Number 37 again she would kill him with her bare hands: Hermione's research into the Veil has an unexpected side-effect. COMPLETE.

A Naughty Niffler by bunnystealsyourcarrots

E | One-shot | 2k

Hermione finds herself sucked into an unknown world with an old familiar face

Youth in Retrospect by provocative_envy

E | One shot | 8k

She’s buying a box of condoms when she meets him. “Those are shit, you know,” he says, jerking his chin at the pale purple box in her hand. “Can’t feel anything.” She stares at him for a moment too long. The bell above the door jingles merrily as a rowdy group of schoolboys enters the store. “Excuse you,” she replies, cheeks turning pink.

Nerve Damage by januarywren

T | Complete | 6k

“Working late again?” Hermione asked, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, her raised eyebrow daring him to make a smart remark. That look had sent more than one ex fuming—but not him. Never him. Tom glanced up from his paperwork, his usual mask of indifference giving way to a slow, lazy smile. “Someone has to keep things running smoothly around here. I thought you’d be fast asleep by now, Miss Granger.” She let her gaze wander over the surprising disarray of his desk, piled high with case files and pages dotted with notes in his precise handwriting. She'd teased him more than once about his borderline obsessive need for order, how every pen, every scrap of paper, had its place. But she didn't mention it now or comment on the faint stain on his collar. Losing a patient did things to a person—things no textbook or professor could ever prepare them for. House M.D. Inspired AU | There’s a sickness between Hermione and Tom that neither has any desire to cure. (It isn't love. It isn't. 🖤)

communication errors by esotyric (devilrie)

T | Complete | 7k

sender: tmriddle@walpurgis.net recipient: hermionegranger@gryffinsdor.org subject: Today’s Meeting Granger – Attached is the dry-cleaning bill for the shirt you ruined when you threw your tea at it. I’m not sure if you noticed, but I happened to be wearing the shirt at the time. You are lucky it was cold. Pay the bill and I won’t sue you for assault. Regards, Thomas Marvolo Riddle CEO of Walpurgis Corporate sender: hermionegranger@gryffinsdor.org recipient: tmriddle@walpurgis.net subject: re: Today’s Meeting Riddle – I did notice, because unlike you, I can identify when something is being inhabited, you forest-destroying monster. You do not require a dry cleaner to get herbal tea out of a shirt. The shirt was black, the tea was camomile, and you have no grounds on which to stand nor sue. Your company, however, WILL be exposed for the havoc it is wreaking upon our natural world. Sincerely, Hermione Jean Granger CEO of Not being a Twat

Domestic Bliss by airgloweffect

M | one shot | 693

A snapshot into the life of Tom and Hermione Riddle.AU

Avada Kedavra Anonymous by Speechwriter

K+ | Complete | 8k

No one missed Riddle's pale fist tightening around the useless wand in his lap. "I am Tom," he ground out. "I am here for the sole reason that the alternative was community service." / Hermione moderates a post-Avada Kedavra support group. Chaos ensues.

A Nose that Can See by Colubrina

Hermione Granger has found herself inexplicably tossed back into time to Tom Riddle's Hogwarts. And he's a Veela and, wouldn't you know it, she's his mate. Could life get worse? But he seems to have an endless supply of out-of-season fruit so it can't be all bad, right? Tomione. Major character death, musical theater, and all that fruit. COMPLETE. Hermione Granger has found herself inexplicably tossed back into time to Tom Riddle's Hogwarts. And he's a Veela and, wouldn't you know it, she's his mate. Could life get worse? But he seems to have an endless supply of out-of-season fruit so it can't be all bad, right? Tomione. Major character death, musical theater, and all that fruit. COMPLETE.

Tommy Played Guitar by PacificRimbaud

E | One shot |3k

Tom Riddle takes his coffee black and plays in a rock and roll band.

Playing Cupid by Meowmers

M | Complete | 14k

"I'm beginning to think that I would love to hear you scream." Tomione. Regency AU. Rated-M.

A Four Letter Word by elizabethriddle

E | One shot | 4k

Tom Riddle was not impulsive. He was a planner. He never did anything without carefully considering all possible outcomes and controlling all of the variables. And he never let emotions impact his decisions. He had planned, meticulously, for the post as DADA Professor. How did it all go so wrong?

Sailor Trouble by The-Empress-of-Snark (uleanblue)

Not Rated | Complete | 9k

Hermione Granger attempts to restore the Founder's Relics, with unexpected results.

you did some bad things, but i'm the worst of them by coffeepolariod

E | Complete | 22k

“You want to watch your back, Miss Granger,” Dolohov gestured to Tom with his head. “This man won’t go easy on you, won’t entertain your parlour tricks, and most definitely will not hold back as he tears your confidence down: brick by brick.” or: Hermione Granger needs to win this poker game but Tom Riddle is there at every turn.

Tempora Abducto by Flaignhan (almost anything by this author)

T | Complete | 53k

Inconveniently it's the things that need fixing the most which are often irreparable.

[tiredmetalenthusiast]

Monsters walk at night (Monster!Price x f!reader)

Another one for @glitterypirateduck Price writing challenge!

Scenarios used, 16. ‘A Pursuit takes place’ and 44. 'A world where mates exist':

Warnings: monster fucking, NSFW, unprotected p in v, partial smut, literally getting chased down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It started off as an innocent walk through the woods by the large cabin Price had rented, (seemed more like a house when you saw it), stating you all needed a break. He had distributed the rooms when you all had arrived, securing the perimeter and making sure the security cameras and alarm system worked. You remember the day clearly.

The fridge was fully stocked as were the bathrooms, all the amenities needed for a few days stay away from civilization. You walked into the kitchen getting ready to make some food, the drive there was long and you were absolutely starving. “What are ye plannin ta make and can I have some because I am famished.” You turned to find Johnny strolling into the kitchen. “Well I wasn’t offering to make dinner just looking for a snack, but it’d be a shame to have the cabin burn down.” Johnny groans from the table, “It was one time bonnie! Was nae like I was plannin on burnin the place up!” “Johnny you set the place ablaze tryin to make CUP OF SOUP!” “I was tired!”

Price walked in shaking his head as Ghost and Gaz came in behind him chuckling. Simon piped up, “So you makin food or not?” You roll your eyes, “I’ll make a steaming pile of dog shit just for you Ghost.” “Make sure it has garlic and potatoes, yeah?” After dinner was decided on, (not dog shit), everyone settled in for the night with the exception of you and John. “Fancy a walk luv? There are lights on the trails.” You think about it for a minute and nod, “Sure. Seems like a nice night, gotta walk off that meal too.” You both chuckle and walk outside, the night warm so there was no need for jackets.

You both had been walking for about 20 minutes, the scenery beautiful and calming, making small talk as the scent of Price’s cigar smoke wafts around in the night air. The light from the cigars burning tip gave Price’s already attractive features a boost, almost making him look scary in the dark of the woods. “You know, I could use a bit more exercise. Up for a chase?” You look at him confused as he takes a hit from his cigar and blows the smoke upwards, the red embers showing in his eyes.

He leans closer as you take a step back, his eyes gleaming, his teeth seeming sharper. “Run.” That was all you needed as you took off into the trees. You don’t know how long you ran before you finally heard his boots hitting the ground behind you. He was far but not by much, the sound of his boots thudding loudly, almost like he was heavier now. You had briefly stopped behind a large rock but continued when you heard his voice ring through the forest, loud and strange. “Run all you want sweetheart. I can smell you from a mile away.”

You had barely made it to a clearing when you were tackled from behind. You managed to turn over, finding Price but he looked different. Horns protruded from his head, a spiked tail swaying behind him, teeth razor sharp and eyes glowing like the flames of hell. “Caught you darling. Smelled you the second you started running. Getting chased down turn you on?” You blushed, turning your head away. Sure you had always found Price attractive, you knew he wasn’t totally human, and maybe you had some disrespectfully spicy dreams about him, so who could blame you for being turned on.

He nudged your cheek before moving to your neck, inhaling your scent. “My mate.” “What?” “You’re my mate luv. Smelled it the second you walked onto base.” “ O-oh, um I-“ “Do you accept? I may be a monster but I’m not an asshole. I’ve seen your dreams, heard your whispers.” “This isn’t a joke right? Because…I love you, have for a while and if this is some weird or cruel joke just so you can get laid it’s not funny.”

His eyes widened, stunned. “You think so low of me? That I would make a joke of something so serious?” You shake your head no and he sighs in relief. Nuzzling into your neck, he licks and groans as he tastes your flesh mixed with sweat. “Do you accept?” You nod, “Words, dearest.” “I accept.” A rumble forms in his chest as you kiss him and you both begin to undress. You had felt the bulge of him rubbing against your thigh through the talk and it had you needy.

To say he was large was an understatement as you openly stared at the size of him. “It’ll fit fine luv, no worries.” You nodded hesitantly, “Please be gentle.” He kisses you to smooth your nerves as he slowly pushes in, catching all your pretty noises in his mouth. “That’s it darling. You were made to take me.” He was only half way in but you already felt so full of him but he continued to slip inside unhindered. When his hips finally connected with your’s he left out a drawn out moan into the night air and pulled back slowly. “I hope you’re ready sweetheart, because it’s about to be a long night.” Running a hand over the obvious bulge in your skin, you clench and that’s enough to get him started.

The night is spent surrounded by the sound of his hips meeting your’s, breathy moans, the name of your captain loud on your lips and hands firmly gripping his horns for the ride. He didn’t let up until the sun had almost broken the horizon, both of you spent and newly mated.

[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 1- "You can make me a drink."

description: Spending the summer touring Europe with her brother and the band he works for sounds like the perfect way to get herself out there, at least, that's what Daisy's intent is. But, with the cocky lead singer of the band, clashing personalities, and an entire summer for tensions to grow, things may not go as they are planned.

a/n: not the story i promised, but one i love. posted on ao3, too. enjoy lovelies <3

“Okay, so, ii is kind of…quiet, I guess? He’s fucking smart as shit. Knows all these random facts, but he just doesn’t talk too much until he gets to know you. Ya know?”

I stared out of the airplane window, Sam’s words distant to my tired brain. My processing skills were not sharp this early in the morning, especially considering the time change we had gone through. I was too focused on the view, anyways. The sky looked ethereal this time of morning, all foggy mountain peaks bleeding into crimson orange, bordered by black, starry clouds. I traced their puffy edges with my bleary eyes in an attempt to not fall back asleep. We were landing, after all, and we’d have to push through busy crowds for the next half an hour. Falling back asleep would take any energy I had left and stomp it out.

“And, then, iii…I am a little concerned about how he’ll act with you because he’s-he’s flirtatious-”

“Ladies and gentleman, we are now landing at Heathrow International Airport in London, England,” the pilot interrupted Sam’s sentence, staticky voice crackling over our heads.

I felt Sam shift in his seat. His elbow knocked against mine on the tiny armrest we had been fighting over the entire flight. I snidely shoved my elbow against his in an attempt to steal the space back. He hissed as it pained his funny bone. I looked over in time to catch the glare he sent me, his fingers rubbing at his bruising bone.

Though he looked annoyed, he kept his murmurs to himself, unwilling to be too aggressive with me this early in the morning- and this early in the trip. We had an entire summer that we still had to spend together. Starting fights now would make it a miserable, long couple of months.

“That was rude,” I heard him say. I ignored him and turned back towards the plane’s window. The ground was growing closer as we shakily descended from the air.

“‘Course, then…there’s Vessel.” Sam continued on his explanation of the band members and a few of the crew workers I would have the opportunity to meet this summer. He had been doing so I woke up fifteen minutes ago.

Not that I planned to hang around Sam and his friends too much. I was taking this time between college graduation and going back for my master’s in the fall to see what little of the world I could manage. I didn’t plan on being stuck indoors at the hotel or backstage at the venues too often. I had plans for each and every tour stop- friends I would be meeting up with, concerts I was going to attend. I had my own long list of tourist attractions I had to see, bucket items I needed to cross off. Sam’s friends sounded lovely, but I didn’t expect to be too attached to them.

“He’s quite, um…How do I describe him? He’s not scary, per say…just…intense. He’s quiet and brooding and I don’t really think you’ll like him too much, ya know? Anyways.”

Sam unbuckled his seatbelt. I finally peeled my eyes from the window, the edges of my lids burning with exhaustion. I undid my own belt, reached down to gather my book bag, and looped my neck pillow under my arm.

Sam looked down at me with a tired smile, “You’ll be meeting them all very soon, so…you can just find out for yourself.”

I offered up a grin, even if my face fought back at the energy this action required. “Thanks for having me, Sam-Ham.” I moved to rest my head against his shoulder, sweetly. I probably could have slept right there if we weren’t having to pile out of the plane.

He went to rest his own head against mine, but as soon as the nickname quietly passed my lips, he flinched, back straightening up. “Please don’t call me that in front of them. Please, Daisy. Please. I don’t have any other rules you have to follow. I’m giving you complete freedom on this tour. Just- please. Don’t say that.”

My grin twisted into a devious smirk. Sam’s brown eyes were pleading, a frown sitting deep in his wrinkled cheeks. “Aw, what do you mean, Sam-Ham? Are you embarrassed?”

He flinched again at the nickname. I’d given it to him when I was four and he was just eight. He loved ham and cheese sandwiches at the time and refused to eat basically anything else. Ever since that month-long fight of mom trying to force him to consume any semblance of a vegetable or fruit, I’d coined him as such with zero ounces of shame. On social media posts, his birthday cards, at his own high school graduation party. No shame.

“Daisy-” he went to plead again, but I wouldn’t let him.

“Everyone’s getting off. Let’s go.” I pushed past Sam, ignoring him. I marched out of our aisle, then off the plane, Sam hot on my heels. His frustration with the nickname had melted into protectiveness as he tried to keep up with me. He’d always been overbearing, and I think he’d only be more annoying about it during this trip.

The air in London was chilly, though it was felt only briefly as we walked down through the terminal. I was grateful to have a hoodie wrapped around my waist, and managed to slip it on as we walked. I knew it would warm up as the day passed on, though. It was May, after all, and London had that weird spring weather, with chilly mornings and sweltering afternoons. At least, this information was according to Sam and a few Google searches on my end.

Sam caught up to my side as we headed for baggage claim. He had his phone out, ready to shoot someone a text, “Okay…”

I spotted our bags spinning past where we stood. As he continued, I reached out and grabbed them. They landed on the floor beside us as Sam said, “Ronnie- Ronnie’s the band’s tour manager, also one of my best friends, ever. You might like her-”

“I like everyone, Sam, unless they’re an asshole. I don’t know why you assume I’m such a hater-”

“Cause you are!” He said, matter-of-factly. I always hated when he’d make negative observations about me. I knew I was his little sister, his annoying little sister who threw dirt at him when we were little, who he had to drag along on first dates in high school. But, I was more than that spoiled brat, especially now. I hoped this summer would help him see that, hoped he would gain some respect for me based on the difference in the real me and who he knew.

I wanted to shove his suitcase at him, just to spite him for making such a comment. But, I simply smiled up at him and rolled the luggage towards his outstretched hand. Before he could really say anything, I shot towards the exit.

“Anyways!” He rushed up to my side, breathless from how quickly I walked.

He shoved his mop of dirty blond hair into his phone as he continued texting someone. “Ronnie’s sent over an Uber,” he spoke, absentmindedly.

The automatic doors slid open. We stepped out into the chilly morning air of London. Had Sam’s head not been shoved into his phone, he would have been able to see the glorious sight lain out before us. He unfortunately didn’t, but I sure did.

I came to a halting stop, a humored grin upon my face. Sam bumped into my shoulder, but still wouldn’t look up from his phone. “Uber is a gray sedan-”

I giggled, stepping towards the group of men standing before us, party hats upon their heads, noisemakers between their lips, and a god awfully hand drawn sign held out before them.

Sam, dark brows furrowed, questioned my laughter, “What-?”

He finally pulled his nose from his phone. As he did, I took a party hat from one of the band member’s outstretched hands. We all blew into our noisemakers. Chaos erupted.

“Welcome back from rehab, Sam!” The shortest of the group held the sign up proudly, a bright grin on his face.

“What the fuck-?”

The tallest man- who had sandy blond hair and stormy gray eyes- a literal personification of the beaches in England- nearly tackled Sam, crushing his frame between the hand drawn sign and his hugging arms. I pulled the noisemaker from my mouth as a laugh erupted from me. The others rushed forward to greet their friend. Sam’s face was flushed red from the words on the sign, but he looked so incredibly happy, embracing each of them. They were all dressed in dark black clothing, save for a few spots of royal blue, maroon, or forest green. It was in stark contrast to my pink hoodie and gray sweatpants. Sam was right when he said these people weren’t my usual crowd, but wrong when he just assumed I wouldn’t like them. Yet another example of his misconstrued perception about who I really was. Just because I was girly, a Taylor Swift lover, with my favorite colors being purple and pink, didn’t mean I automatically could not stand people in the metal crowd. They were just different from me- that was all.

I did keep my distance, though, just as they greeted each other. I waited for Sam to introduce me, which he did shortly after. Their chaos faded as he moved his way back through the group, back to me. He faced them from here, an arm around my shoulders. “This is my baby sister-”

I elbowed his side, frowning at his choice of words. He squirmed away from me, a slight hiss pulled through his lips because of the pain. I stepped forward, offering my hand to the closest person- a short, blond-headed man with these brilliant blue eyes. “Daisy.”

He shook my hand politely, “Pleasure to meet you, Daisy. I’m-” He cut his own words off, glancing over my shoulder to Sam. ‘‘Wait…Are we introducing ourselves as, like, numbers or real people?”

I cracked a smile at the confusion. The tall man beside him, clutching the sign he’d made Sam,, shrugged, “We’re already unmasked. Might as well.”

“I can sign something,” I let go of his hand with a casual wave in my arms. “I don’t mind.”

“We can take care of that later,” another short one, darker haired with slight ringlets to his hair and green in his eyes, stepped forward. He took my hand, “Adam.”

“Cyrus. Cy, for short,” settled the original one.

I nodded at each of their introductions. The tallest one was named Max. He must have been three, considering he kissed the back of my hand and smirked up at me. Also considering Sam stepped between us and punched Max in the shoulder. He was right about the flirtations, though I didn’t mind it too much. I knew it was harmless.

Finally, I turned to the last band mate. I held out my hand. He glanced between it and my face, lips thin, face void of any expression. My brows furrowed slightly. I felt insecure under his harsh gaze, but I kept my kind composure, “Daisy. Nice to meet you…”

“Oliver.”

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t move to take my hand, didn’t offer up any kind greetings. My once joyous smile morphed into a frown. Sam had warned me he was brooding, quiet. But, not rude. He was just plain rude.

I didn’t have time to ruminate on this meet-ugly, though, because Sam was then herding us all into a taxi. They had meetings to get to, I guess. I was given the front seat, which only made me feel a little left out. I knew that would probably happen, considering Sam had been working for them for four years now and I was a newbie. So, I didn’t take it to heart. Sitting in the front of a taxi was mostly just awkward.

What I did take to heart, however, was Oliver’s rude introduction. Perhaps it was because I was so tired, but…it bothered me. I didn’t want to spend the summer with an asshole like him. As we got onto the busy road, thirty minutes counting down on the GPS for our arrival at the first venue, I eyed him in the mirror, a slight glare in my tired eyes

He sat behind the driver’s seat, large legs pushing up against the door and spilling into Cyrus’ space. I didn’t get a good look at him earlier, too focused on the bad energy he bled. From what I gathered through the rearview mirror’s reflection, he had sharp features- a long nose, pursed, pink lips, high cheekbones, and a neck that more than definitely spilled into a toned chest. His eyes were dark, brown, maybe, but I remembered that, outside, when the sun hit them, they were lighter. His hair was a medium shade of brown, shaggy before his eyes, but clean cut on the sides.

He was kind of attractive. But, that didn’t matter, considering he’d made such a terrible first impression. I knew he was Vessel because, even though he’d muttered just one word to me, his dark voice matched the one from the songs that Sam had forced me to listen to before we left. He was probably full of himself, the fame inflating his head, his ego, which was why he gave such a shit introduction. He honestly probably just thought he was too good for little girls like me, though he was only seven years older than me.

Like I said, I didn’t have anything against people who listened to metal. But, part of the reason I could never really get into the shit that Sam liked, was because most of the band’s seemed to be like this Vessel, this Oliver guy. Stuck-up, self-involved, all struggling artists who thought the world was out to get them, though, in reality, they were elitist, straight, white, cis men who had more privilege in their pinky fingers than I had in my entire body.

Either I had been staring for too long, or he felt my gaze, because his dark eyes met mine in the mirror. I flinched, quickly snapping my chin towards the window. I pressed my knees against the door, arms crossed over my chest ashamedly, trying to melt away. I caught sight of the exposed skin on my arm, where my hoodie sleeve had been tugged up a bit from my restlessness, and saw goosebumps littering my body. Why was my body reacting to his stare this way?

I sulked in my frustration the entire ride there, ignoring the sense that I could still feel his eyes burning into me. Eventually, I guess, I passed out, even though the morning fog cleared the view outside my window, displaying the beautiful, stretching buildings of the city. If I were awake, I could appreciate the glorious architecture, the landscapes of this foreign land.

Someone woke me up, their warm hand pressed upon my shoulder. “We’re here.”

I knew it wasn’t Sam, only because, as I sat up in my seat, I saw him standing at the back of the taxi, pulling our luggage from the trunk. Besides, he didn’t have an accent like this person did. I turned to see who had so gently awoken me, but the backseat remained empty.

I gathered my things, swinging my backpack straps over my shoulders as I stepped onto the cobblestone of the hotel parking lot. It was sprinkling, so I tugged my hood up and over my head. Sam then rounded the car, dragging my suitcase behind him noisily.

“Here,” he rolled it to a stop before me. His eyes examined my face for a moment, seeing the furrowed brows and scowl I wore, “You doing okay?”

I shivered, hugging my arms around my body. I felt kind of sick, probably from the jet lag. I tried to look not so bitchy, but I couldn’t do that when my head was pounding and vile threatened my throat. “Yeah,” I nodded, half-heartedly, “just need to lay down, I think.”

“S’okay,” Sam patted my head, “we’ll check into the hotel quickly and get you into bed, okay?”

I nodded again. Sam took my suitcase back into his hold and gestured for me to follow him. The band was just a few feet behind us as we headed into the hotel. I wanted to stop, take a look around, snap a billion photos of this newfound dreamland. But, my head was pounding more as we moved about. My stomach ached from hunger and exhaustion. I needed a long nap, even if it would fuck up my sleep schedule more than it already was going to be.

We reached the front desk. Sam began speaking to the attendant there, our reservation details pulled up on his phone screen, in the email management had sent him. Because I was tagging along and didn’t exactly work for the band, Sam and I would be forced to share lodging in each and every city. Luckily, I’d managed to snag my own bunk on the tour bus. But, when we’d jump between countries, I had to buy my plane tickets. I didn’t mind, considering this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and that really wasn’t asking much from me.

I leaned against the counter, arms still wrapped around my body as I hunched forward. I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to ease the headache. Sam, the attendant, the band- their voices were all distant, like I was on another plane of existence.

But, another voice- one delicate, with an unfamiliar accent- became relevant to my hearing as he approached me. “Jet lag getting to you, love?”

I opened one eye and, upon seeing Max, straightened up a bit, “Oh, fuck,” I chuckled quietly. “It is.”

“Doesn’t get any better, just to warn you,” he shoved his large hands into the pockets of his black jeans. Stray pieces of his blond hair fell from the bun at the back of his hair.

I nodded up at him, neck straining, considering he towered over me, “Amazing news, thank you.”

“You need to invest in some energy drinks, loads of excedrin, and get good at cat napping,” he offered up the little advice he’d gathered from his years of experience touring.

Sam turned back to us, holding out a key card for me to take. I thanked him, plucking the key from his fingers, before looking back at Max, “Thank you, too. I’ll go try out this cat nap you speak of.”

Max grinned at me with a slight scrunch in his nose. I tried and failed to return the expression. Then, I continued on following Sam towards the elevators. I glanced behind us as we stepped inside and saw that the band was b-lining for the front doors. Just as the gray metal doors of the room boxed us in, I saw one of them peer over his shoulder, looking back at us. Sam didn’t notice, too busy pressing our floor number into the key pad. But, I did.

Oliver and I met eyes. He quickly looked away. The doors shut.

-

I tried to take a cat nap. I well and truly tried. I even turned a timer on for twenty minutes, promising myself that I would get up as soon as the alarm went off. I kind of knew that was going to happen when, as soon as my head hit the stack of plump pillows, my burning eyes immediately fell shut.

I guess my body had other plans than taking that cat nap.

As the alarm rang, Sam stepped out of the bathroom, where he had been showering and getting ready for the day. It was, after all, only 10am, and he had a job to report to. He sat down on my bed, near my chest. He set a warm hand down upon my shoulder.

I squirmed under the covers, fully waking as I felt his touch. I aggressively shut off the noisy alarm and groaned into my pillow.

Sam chuckled, squeezing my arm again. “Go back to sleep, Daz.”

“I want to, but…I don’t want to waste the day away. God, this sucks!”

He laughed again, “You’ll get more used to it. Besides, we have a whole other week in this city. You will have plenty of time to see everything you want to.”

“Where are you going?” My own words were muffled by my unwillingness to open my mouth all the way. Sam patted my head soothingly and I felt myself quickly falling back asleep, like the rain pattering against the window pane. I barely understood what he was saying now, too dazed and confused. “The venue. Have some meetings and shit. I’ll send you the address if you want to stop by. Just, take it easy for me today, Daz.”

His comforting demeanor, his warm touch, the love and gentleness that he treated me with- it only coaxed me further into my slumber. Sam pressed a kiss to my head before leaving. The door to the hotel room clicking shut was the last thing I’d consciously hear for the next eight hours.

-

I woke with a sharp intake of breath. There was a dry taste in my mouth, drool crusted in the corner of my lips, and a sheen of sweat clung my t-shirt to the skin of my back. I sat up, so I could peel my hoodie off, a gross expression morphing onto my face. My head still hurt, but the Excedrin I had taken that morning was helping just a bit.

I lazily made the bed, knowing I would be back in its clutches in just a few, short hours. The process made me feel a bit normal, though I was thrown off my rhythm completely. As I did it, my stomach growled, angrily. I realized at that moment that I hadn’t eaten anything all day. The last thing I remember consuming was that souvenir package of pretzels on the plane- and that was nearly 24-hours ago.

First things first- I had to shower. So, I scrubbed the plane dust, the sweat, from my skin. Then, I dressed in something easy: leggings, a reputation album hoodie, my white sneakers. I clipped my wet hair up, away from my face, and filled my purse with what I thought were essentials- my passport, in case I managed to get lost somewhere- a portable charger, my wallet, hotel key card, a can of pepper spray. I knew Europe was much more safe than America, but- I still needed to be cautious.

As I rode the elevator down the stairs, I shot Sam a text. There were five unanswered ones from him- the address to the venue, a photo of the outside of it, a check-in to see if I was okay, a pin-drop of his location, and, finally, one of him informing me that he was returning to the hotel with the band.

I reached the lobby and spotted them all at the hotel bar. They had taken up a table in the corner, noisy, chaotic, bordering on drunk. The rest of the room was nearly emptied out, probably because of them. Max saw my approaching figure first. He raised a hand to wave, interrupting Sam to say, “Look who it is! Cat nap do you any good?”

I shook my head at his words, a small giggle on my lips, “Not at all. I slept for eight hours.”

“Oh, shit,” Sam turned in his chair to face me. “I was wondering ‘cause you never responded to my texts.”

“Sorry,” I shrugged. Cyrus and Adam gave their attention to me. I looked over their faces with a polite smile before my eyes landed on their lead singer. He clutched onto an amber colored drink, head pointed down towards the table. He didn’t even have the decency to look at me when I was speaking.

I took a deep, annoyed breath, countering my vision back to Max, as he said, “You’ll get in the swing of things soon enough.”

I ignored the frustration Oliver fueled in my bones and said, “Just mad I wasted a day.”

Adam tilted his glass to me, “It’s okay, Daisy. You didn’t miss much.”

“No?” I inquired, glancing around the men before me.

They all shook their heads. Cyrus frowned, “Just meetings. Boring shit like that.”

“You have all summer, Daz. You can start catching up tomorrow,” Sam reassured me again.

“Well, I am gonna go out tonight. Just for a bit,” I replied.

Max nodded appreciatively at my plans, ‘'Whatcha gonna do? Hit the town? Go dancing, maybe?”

“Eat my weight in Nando's, actually,” I giggled in response.

The boys shared a round of laughter. I glanced at Oliver, but his head was still down. He was scrolling his phone, now, frowning though the rest of us were having a great. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and looked at Cyrus. “Nando's is great. You’ll like it.”

“Hope so.”

Sam finished off his drink with just a small sip. “I should come with you.”

I waved him off, “I’ll be okay. I’m gonna be alone a lot this summer. Best to get used to it now.”

“It’s late, though,” he offered up again.

“It’s fine, I promise. I’ll give you my location and you can anxiously watch my little avatar move around London, okay?”

Sam huffed in agreement, unwilling to argue with me. I was an adult, after all. He didn’t really have a say as to what I did, though I wasn’t unappreciative of his efforts. Then, Max spoke again, “Well, you’ll have to let us take you out another time, though. Maybe even take you dancing. There’s a great nightlife here in London.”

“Yeah, that could be fun,” I nodded. My stomach growled and, luckily, I was the only one to have heard it. I began to wrap up the short conversation, “I’m gonna get going. I haven’t eaten all day and I feel like I’m gonna turn into the Hulk soon. See you all tomorrow?”

Sam stood from his seat and enveloped me in a short hug. “Be safe, Daz.”

As we pulled apart, I reached up on my toes to ruffle his sandy hair. I settled back onto my heels, my smile morphing into a mischievous smirk as I thought of a silly way to throw him off. I tilted my head to the side, teasing, “Sure thing, Sam Ham.”

I rushed for the exit, escaping the hotel bar before he could retaliate. I knew I had made his face flush a deep red. I could even hear the band’s laughter trailing behind me as they teased him for the nickname. It was a good start to what felt like it could be one of the best summer’s of my life.

As long as Oliver stayed out of my way.

-

I was gone for just two hours. I struggled to find Nando’s at first because Google had me walking in circles. But with a little help from a CVS worker, I finally reached the restaurant. I ordered a little more food than I was probably able to eat because I wanted to sample the popular menu. Between the mass amount of food and the speed at which I ate, it wasn’t long until I was full.

After I left the building, I took a stroll, finally in a decent enough headspace to be able to appreciate the lit-up city. It was Monday, and nearly 10pm, so most of the shops and bars were closed for the evening. When something interested me, I simply wrote down in my notes app so I could remember to come back. Tomorrow, I decided, I would return to this little corner of the world.

Elated with the excitement of this promising journey, the mood only heightened from the hunger dissipated in my bones, I made it back to the hotel. Though Sam had promised me he would stay up, he was curled up under the blankets, passed out. I wasn’t mad- I knew he needed to get a good night’s rest. Besides, back home, I lived alone, came and went late at night all the time. I didn’t need him to look out for me to this extreme extent. I tucked the blankets up under his chin a bit more snugly, plugged his phone in, and ensured I was quiet as I got myself ready to lay down.

However, I threw the covers off of myself after struggling to sleep for over an hour. My body was buzzing. I was just not going to be able to fall asleep for a while. I could feel the energy pulsing through my body, excitement forcing my once tired eyes to jolt open unwillingly. I needed to get up, move around, do something to get this jumpiness to leave me alone.

I pulled my once abandoned hoodie overtop my pj set, shoved my feet into the pair of slippers I’d packed. Rummaging through the mini-fridge, I pulled out a few small bottles of liquor- three vodka shots, one Jack Daniels. These few should be enough to get me to sleep.

I piled them into my purse, grabbed my phone off the nightstand, and headed out the door. I didn’t know where I was going when I got into the elevator, but my eyes scanned over the button pad and found an option for the roof. That seemed like a good enough place to chill for a while.

The air was cold, but not in a bitter way. My warm skin almost welcomed the stark contrast. It seemed to coax the buzz of energy out of my system once I began to shiver. There were a few patio chairs set up around fire pits or grills. I picked a huddle that was positioned towards the corner of the roof, sitting myself criss-cross on a maroon-colored couch.

I unlocked my phone and shuffled my liked songs playlist on Spotify. I uncapped one of the shots and downed it with a scrunched face. I never much liked the taste of alcohol because it was so bitter. And, then, because of that, tolerance was low and I was an annoying light weight. It immediately made my chest feel warm. At least two of these would probably coax me to sleep, no problem.

“Gonna share?”

I flinched at the deep voice, eyes snapping from examining the front of the bottle to the body seated across the firepit from me. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the light from the small tiki lamps surrounding our section of the roof. But, when they did, my pupils widened in slight shock.

“How long have you been sitting there?” I replied, tone a little more than annoyed that he was just now announcing himself.

“Long enough to know you can’t take a shot,” there was a smirk in his voice, a cockiness that made me want to wipe it clean off his pink, plump lips.

“Sorry I’m not an alcoholic,” I snide back. “If you want one, you have to come get it, by the way. I’m comfy now.”

“Comfy with this trash music playing?” He quipped, though he stood and reached out for the alcohol..

I begrudgingly handed him a vodka bottle, though his comment only annoyed me further, “Real men like Taylor Swift.”

“Hey, haven’t you heard? I’m a vessel. Not a man.”

I watched in silence as he took the shot. He held my eyes in his. There was a teasing sense edging at his pupils. I couldn’t quite read what he intended with his gaze, his quips. Maybe he was really trying to piss me off even more. I already figured him an asshole, based off of how he acted each time I saw him today. But, with every sentence that passed, this belief was only carved deeper.

I pressed my lips together in an attempt to soothe my frustration. If he really just wanted to get on my nerves, I wasn’t going to let him know it was working. I would just be sickly sweet in return. “So, Vessel, what are you doing up here? Can’t sleep?”

“Obviously,” he waved me off.

I watched him for another moment, wondering what I could say to bother him back. He took a cigarette and a lighter from his hoodie pocket. The end of it glowed red from the small flame. and he sunk it between his lips. When he pulled it out, he flicked his brows at me, as if to offer a drag. I frowned, head shaking, “That’s okay. Thanks.”

“Hm…too good for a smoke, then?” He flicked off the end of the cigarette, sending ashes down to his pant leg, onto the concrete of the roof below us.

I watched as they fell, a glare in my gaze, “More like my mom died of lung cancer because she smoked for thirty years.”

Oliver held the cigarette mid-air, paused from bringing it to his lips. He flicked his brows again, rubbed his lips together, Then, he tossed the stick onto the floor and stomped it with the toe of his boot. “Sorry.”

“Mhm,” I challenged, knowing I now had the upper-hand because of his obvious guilt. All I could think was that I really did not like him. But he was so fucking hot.

“I’d ask what you’re doing up, but I figured you wouldn’t be able to sleep after the day you had.”

“Yeah, no,” I chuckled dryly.

Oliver peeled his eyes from my face, looking out over the city lights sprawled out before us. He pondered for a moment, the process obvious because of the way it sat on his face- his eyes darkened, his brows furrowed, and he frowned. I wanted to make a comment about how I could see the smoke billowing from his ears as he thought, but he met my eye again.

“What’s your deal, Daisy?”

I wouldn’t admit it, but I loved the way my name sounded on his pretty pink lips. I wanted to hear it, closer, right next to my ear, in a much darker setting, wearing way less clothing. I shook away the thought, hoping it wasn’t obvious that he had thrown me for a loop. I ignored the smirk that curled on his mouth, shifted in my seat, and shrugged, “What the fuck does that mean?”

Oliver laughed, a dry, hollow sound that I quite enjoyed. I opened the other shot of vodka and went to take it, needing desperately to quiet my brain. But, he replied, “What are you here for?”

“What are you here for?” I leaned forward to toss him the bottle of Jack Daniels.

He took it, then stretched his arms out over the back of the couch he sat upon, the bottle hanging loosely from his fingers.. “Good question. For our music, I suppose. To perform it for our listeners.”

“That’s not what you’re here for,” I rejected his words, shaking my head just slightly, “That’s what everyone else is here for. What about you, Oliver?”

He glanced around. Smoke, ears again. I nearly cracked a smile at the parallel before he finally responded, “To…worship. To celebrate my music, myself…life.”

I held the shot out towards him, offering a cheer up to what he had said, “To life.”

Oliver leaned forward on the couch, stopping me before I could take the shot, “Wait, what about you?”

“There’s no deeper meaning to anything I do,” I waved him off with a small giggle. The air between us was growing more comfortable as we opened up to each other. Maybe Sam was right- maybe Oliver just needed to get to know me before he stopped being an ass. It didn’t make it okay, that he was like that. It was definitely a trauma response. But, it was alright. I’d be over it by the morning, especially considering some semblance of a friendship was blossoming here between us.

“Oh, Daisy, there’s always deeper meaning to everything humans do. Think. What’s yours?” He lay a hand out, as if I had to fill that empty air with my response.

I glanced from his hand, out to the city, thinking over the question. What was mine? Why was I here? I wanted to take a break from reality before my life would really start. I wanted to see the world. I wanted to visit friends, to discover life beyond my small corner of the map. But, what did it all mean to me? What was my purpose this summer? I was always quite stagnant. I just…existed. I don’t think I ever really lived, found that meaning within what I did.

“I guess…” I met his eye again, finding some answers in my own thoughts, “I guess…to find that deeper meaning. To find what I’m looking for, maybe.”

“Then, to life…to discovering life. To finding life,” he sampled a few phrases before settling upon what he’d come up with..

We both leaned our arms out until our shot glasses clinked together. It was cheesy, meta, a conversation that, 24 hours ago, I would have snorted at. At least, that’s what the girl who boarded the plane last night would have done. Maybe I was changing already, and maybe it was for the better. Maybe this summer really would be about discovering life, discovering my own.

I didn’t think we’d find much else to talk about, but that was quickly proven wrong. We spent the next hour and a half involved in a deep conversation, swapping childhood stories, dreams, favorite songs and movies. Oliver wasn’t so bad, wasn’t so depressing as I originally thought he was. Sure, he had plenty of skeletons in the closet. But, he was funny, too, with niche interests, interesting stories that drew laughter out of me. I hadn’t thought this was possible.

Eventually, we both needed to get to bed. He had to be up in just six hours and I wanted to get a good start on the next day. I was finally starting to feel tired, too. So, we boarded the elevator together, only after tossing his cigarette bud and shot bottles into the trash.

Oliver reached across my body to press the button for our floor. As his body passed mine, I caught a sweet whiff of his cologne. It rattled my brain around. That, combined with his warm breath, and the alcohol in my system, shivered goosebumps down my spine.

As he settled back on his heels, I braved a glance up at his handsome face. He was already looking down at me. The small smile on his plump lips stretched into a teeth-bearing grin. I blushed at the expression on his face.

I didn’t care anymore, not about his rude greetings, his annoyed stature at the bar earlier. I didn’t care about any of it, if it would mean he would keep looking at me like he was right now.

My eyes felt like they glazed over as we stared at one another. Oliver turned his shoulder, facing his chest towards me. The action was an opening door, an encouraging lure into dark places I should stray from. But, I didn’t.

I faced him, too, fingers grasping at my hoodie sleeves, nervously. Oliver tucked his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He spoke, softly, quietly, “You’re very pretty, Daisy.”

I blushed, again. I went to step forward, to make some sort of move in return. But, then, the elevator doors were cracking themselves open. A bell rang overhead.

I guess it broke whatever trance we were both in. Oliver stepped out first, but didn’t move to stride away. He waited for me to join him in the hall. We walked, side by side, towards our rooms, silence taking up so much space and time. Maybe I was being delusional, but I really thought he was going to make some sort of move on me. It probably wouldn’t be for the best, but…Either way, I was grateful for the bond we had begun to form. It would make for a great tour, I just knew it.

Just as I reached my door, Oliver softly called out my name. I turned to him, hand on the door knob, ready to escape into the confines of my bed to think over everything. I met his dark eyes, catching the light in the golden flecks of his pupils. He smiled, “Thanks for staying up with me.”

I couldn’t help but grin back, appreciative of the time we’d spent, hopeful for the future of our friendship (even if I had imagined him blowing my back out in the elevator). “Thank you, Oliver. Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

And see him I did.

When Sam’s alarm went off, I joined him in getting ready, deciding to hit the town early. We went down to breakfast together, my attitude a little more perkier than his, considering the jet lag had started to get to him. And, considering I was excited to see my newfound friend.

We sat with Max and Adam. I greeted them both with a kind smile, my plate of pancakes coming to rest on the table before me. We chatted just a bit, everyone a little more quiet than usual due to the slowness of the morning time.

I finished up my first pancake just as Cy and Oliver sat down with us. I looked up from my plate, grinning despite myself, and tried to meet Oliver’s eyes. “Good morning, guys.”

Cy glanced up, a tired smile on his face. “Morning, Daisy. Sleep okay?”

It took more than a moment before I looked at him, mind focused on catching Oliver’s eyes, “Yeah, thanks. Struggled for a bit, but managed to get to sleep after Ol-”

“Butter,” Oliver reached out a hand, eyes trained onto his plate.

I peeled my gaze from Cy, my smile faltering when I realized Oliver was holding out a hand towards me. He was waiting for me to pick up the plate and hand it to him, without any sign of a please or, God forbid, a greeting. Not to mention, he interrupted me as soon as I had begun to mention our escapade from the night before.

I narrowed my eyes, hoping my burning stare would rattle him. But, it did nothing, so I picked up the butter and shoved it into his hand. He settled it onto the table before him and didn’t say anything else.

What was going on here?

I was thrown for a loop, which seemed to just be the case when it came to him. He was a game, I realized now. And, I did not plan on playing it. Cy looked up from his plate, “After what, Daisy?”

I tried again, just to confirm if that interruption had been as intentional as it seemed, “After Ol-”

He coughed. He coughed right through my words, stopping me from saying his name; again. His gaze was still locked on his plate as he buttered his toast. He blinked. Didn’t make any move to excuse himself, apologize. Nothing.

I gave up then, reading the situation well enough to understand he didn’t want anyone to know about last night. I settled on saying, “After downing a couple shots of vodka. Helped me get to…sleep.” I continued to watch Oliver as I spoke, my -tone flat, frown settled deep into my cheeks.

Cyrus responded, though I wasn’t listening anymore. Max conversed back, moving onto some wild, drunken story from last tour, intended to make me laugh. I tried to catch onto their words, tried to give them the chuckles they searched for. The attention they deserved, and Oliver did not.

But, I couldn’t draw my eyes from his face. After a few minutes, he finally glanced up, though it was quickly, barely looking long enough for me to catch his eyes.

This was going to be a long summer.

[crazylittlejester]

Idk if this is a prompt or not, but I just think it would be FUCKING HILARIOUS if the chain think that wars is some mature 21 year old, but in reality hes a 16 going on 17 year old who looks a LOT older then he is.

(the perks of growing up too fast <3)

This is soooo fucking funny. Wars is 27 to me and I write him that way in all my fics, but the idea that he’s one of the youngest three is soooooooo funny, and of course everyone would be so mad about it 😭

Here you go!! (171 words):

“Wars, how old are you?” Legend asked as he walked over.

Warriors turned behind him to find half of the group staring at him in anticipation. It was very suspicious…

“Why do you want to know…?” He asked slowly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We made a bet!” Wind smiled at him. “Legend thinks you’re 21 but I said you had to be 25 at LEAST.”

“For what it’s worth, I voted 23,” Twilight told him.

“I said 24!”

“I said 22!!”

“And how much money did we put on this bet?” Warriors fought to keep his face neutral.

“We each put in 20 rupees,” Wild pointed at the pile of glittering rupees on the ground.

“And if none of you are right, do I get the money?”

“Sure,” they all shrugged, and Warriors couldn’t keep the shit eating grin off his face any longer.

“You’re all wrong, I’m seventeen.”

The clearing erupted into shocked screams and outraged cries, and Warriors just cackled as Legend begrudgingly handed him the money.

[blackdragoness]

PICK-A-CARD READING

IF YOU WERE A DRUG, WHAT DRUG WOULD YOU BE?

WHY DO PEOPLE BECOME “ADDICTED” TO YOUR ENERGY?

Do you give off ALCOHOLIC vibes, CRACKHEAD energy, OR STONER vibes?

**THIS IS PURELY FOR ENTERTAINMENT** I am not calling any of you addicts. Its just a game to have fun so just enjoy it for what it is: ENTERTAINMENT. I am not a professional and the advice given is based off my own personal experience with these addictions. I share what helped me free myself from these vices but I strongly recommend speaking with a professional that can help you better. Without further ado....

LESSSKOOOO

PICK A CARD:

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PILE 1: ACE OF HEARTS

If you chose pile 1, the vice that best describes your personality is:

***STONER***

**** DISCLAIMER: I am not insinuating that you smoke alot of pot, even if that's true haha. I am not your doctor, pastor, therapist, parent, sibling, boss, the police, your parole officer, NONE OF THAT. So I dont care what you do on your own time. I am not condoning those actions either but at the same time, it’s your life and you can do whatever you want with it.****

Regardless of your personal choices, this is what it says about your personality:

Laid-back, chill AF – almost too laid back it can sometimes be mistaken for laziness – but at the same time, a lot of you reading this probably are lazy and already know that. Its not a roast, I’m just affirming what you already know LOL. Big couch potato energy. Very laxed. As contradictory as it sounds, this is actually why people become addicted to your energy. There isn’t a lot of people who have the chill factor that you have and being around you is like a break from the hustle and bustle of life.

The cool kid – the IT Boy/Girl. Everything you do is effortless

Iconic – does your own thing & known for not following the crowd

You guys have a mind of your own!

Unbothered – it is very hard to ruffle your feathers or get a reaction out of you. It is both an admirable and irritable trait depending on who you’re talking to. If not, you may just react to things very slowly and may find yourself hot and bothered after the fact

Very easy going and easy to talk to – you can chop it up with almost all personalities because you are very relatable and relaxed.

CLASS CLOWN VIBES - you may not take things too seriously and can find humor in anything! You say some funny shit man, and you aren’t even trying to be funny.

EFFORTLESS COMEDIAN.

Very witty and intelligent

You can hold a conversation with a variety of people. Whether its small talk or deep intellectual conversations.

People remember you for the conversations that they have with you and the energy that you bring to the conversation. You may not even realize the effect your words or energy have on people but it lingers on their mind and energy long after you have gone away. All a person needs is one “hit” of your energy.

Might be apart of the “woke” culture or many people would describe you as being “woke”

May be labeled an overthinker, borderline paranoid but also a very critical thinker. You may think about things that most people don’t think about. It may shock others how much you know about a variety of topics  

Very grounded and rooted in whatever it is that you do.

Natural beauties and very natural bodies.

“LOVE CHILD”

Hippy vibes

You have a reputation for always being in a good mood and always being happy for no reason. Its very rare that you are in a bad mood. It doesn’t mean that you don’t have those days. You just know how to guard your emotions and only let a small number of trusted people see your vulnerable side.

Y’all are A VIBE. Periodt. Point. Blank.

You can vibe with a crowd AND you can vibe all on your own. You could be both introverted and extroverted depending on your mood. Sometimes you might be in a corner on your own doing your own thing, other times you’re mingling with a variety of different people. Just depends on your mood.

You probably have lots of conversations with your self all the time. People might think you’re a little weird for that but you might find it funny

Very unique and one of a kind

You might have your own distinct smell. Maybe you have a certain perfume/cologne that you use all the time that people know you for. OR maybe you just stink and smell like body odor. It can be either one of those two extremes LOL (Smokers LOVE the smell of weed, nonsmokers tend to strongly DESPISE the smell of weed so it goes both ways. Don’t shoot the messenger HAHA)

May have a love for music or be very musically inclined

Lyricist, journalist, writer/author - may be very good at articulating your thoughts and emotions but you may mumble or speak softly.

Every moment with you is a HIGH moment – by “high”, I mean when people see you, even if the interaction is short, its most often the HIGHlight of peoples day.

Everyones BUDdy

Wall FLOWER vibes

May be looked at as slightly ditzy

ADVICE:

Tap into your creativity more. This pile has the creative abilities, if improved and mastered, can be monetized on greatly.

Don’t be afraid to put yourself out there and to stand out.

If you struggle with overthinking, it means you aren’t taking enough action. Start moving and putting your amazing thoughts into action so you can manifest the life you dream about all the time. Mistakes are inevitable and part of the growing process so don’t be afraid to make mistakes or make a fool out of yourself. That’s how you learn. The longer you sit on your ideas, the easier it is for doubtful thoughts to creep in which in turn will stop you from taking any type of action. It is time to take action and slow down the voices in your head telling you that you aren’t enough.

Believe in yourself more and learn to love yourself for all your flaws. Your biggest critic and your biggest competition should always be yourself so build yourself up more. Quit the negative self talk. Critique yourself towards improvement but not to the point of giving up. You’re more than you give yourself credit for.

Be more comfortable speaking your mind in the moment instead of bottling everything up all the time. You only end up beating yourself up in the end and it slows down your progress.

If you are addicted to the drug, my advice is to take a break from it for a bit so you can start being active again in your own life. You don't have to quit cold turkey. Take it one day at a time but the wheels will start moving for you soon as you make that change. Too much of anything, even if it's good for you, can eventually start to work against you. But it's your life. If you can find that balance while still keeping it in your life, more power to ya! 😊

CHANNELED SONG:

MOVING ABOUT MY WAYS by Josh Wawa White

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PILE 2: ACE OF CLUBS

If you chose pile 2, the vice that best describes your personality is:

***ALCOHOLIC***

**** DISCLAIMER: I am not insinuating that you drink a lot of alcohol, even if that's true haha. I am not your doctor, pastor, therapist, parent, sibling, boss, the police, your parole officer, NONE OF THAT. So I don’t care what you do on your own time. I am not condoning those actions either but at the same time, it’s your life and you can do whatever you want with it.****

Regardless of your personal choices, this is what it says about your personality:

BIG GOOFBALL ENERGYYYY

Very energetic and MAFANA (pronounced “mah-fah-nah” meaning “heated” in the Tongan language). You might always be MAFANA and ready to do anything at any moment. Also you might literally be MAFANA in body temperature. Might have a warmer body temperature or may always be hot even in colder temperatures. May enjoy very hot showers as well.

Extremely physically attractive. Sexy and sultry type of aesthetic

Very seductive mannerisms and voice

Very spontaneous and slightly chaotic

You might speak in slang a lot – doesn’t matter the slang, but you have your own way of speaking

People would probably describe you as being very bold and confident. You aren’t afraid to say what’s on your mind and you don’t care who hears.

True to yourself

Very genuine and authentic in all your interactions

You’re probably sociable and outgoing

Extremely outgoing – very rarely are you ever alone. You always have a crowd of people surrounding you or with you.

You have your own unique sense of style and fashion taste. People know and recognize you for your fashion sense. It’s just very……YOU.

Brutally honest but honest nonetheless – people may avoid you because of how honest you can be. But people know when they really need an honest opinion, you are the first person to come to mind.

People may describe you as having multiple personalities. It can be both a good thing or a bad thing depending on who you are talking to. One things for sure, getting to know you is NEVER a bore.

Never a dull moment when you are around

LIFE OF THE PARTY

You are the person everyone hopes to see at an event or a party because they know it will be a fun time if you are around.

Very confident – ALPHA vibes – BOSS energy

You may be everyone’s “go-to” person when they need to vent or get things off their chest. Interacting with you is like a glass of wine at the end of a really rough day. If it was a really tough day, you’re more like 3 shots of Henney instead of wine, lets be honest.

You have a “numbing” effect on people – interacting with you is like nothing else matters but the present moment. You’re a very rare type of person

You are the person to impress! Every room you walk into and every person you interact with, you are the center of attention & people will do anything to get your attention praise, & validation.

Not only are you the person to impress, you are also a very impressive person. You impress through your looks, your skills, your intellect, etc – ALL AROUND impressive

You are very expressive, blunt, and outspoken. You say whatever is at the top of your mind and react to everything based off of your emotions in the moment.

May at times be very moody

Night owls

Kareoke King/Queen

Shameless

No one ever knows what to expect with you. You keep everyone on their toes

Maybe a bit clumsy and silly but thats why people love your energy. Its giving "overgrown child" vibes and its refreshing.

You help heal alot of peoples inner child just by being yourself. You bring that young vibe to any occasion.

ADVICE:

Take more time for yourself and away from the noise and the audience. I sense that you don’t enjoy being alone because that is when the dark thoughts creep in. Maybe you dislike feeling lonely. Get more comfortable with being on your own and in your own energy. Sort out those dark thoughts. Try to figure out where the darkness originated from and learn to heal it. It will improve your social interactions greatly.

Learn to enjoy silence. A lot of positive ideas, peace, and self discovery can be found in the silence.

Your greatest strength is your outspokenness. However, by remaining silent, you can avoid a lot of regret for yourself. You can also learn a lot about others simply by listening and remaining silent. Stay outspoken, but add silence into your personality every now and then to bring more balance to your character

SLOW DOWN - in all areas! Speak slower, walk slower, think slower, react slower, develop relationships slower, etc. You may start many things very quickly and burn out just as fast. Learn to pace yourself and develop your mental/physical stamina

If you are addicted to the alcohol, my advice would be to find a healthier hobby to substitute that vice. Exercise helps with regulating your emotions as well as a healthy eating plan. Get more sleep and start journaling. Having an outlet to really pour out your emotions will keep you from pouring another cup. Take it one day at a time, but the wheels will start rolling for you once you make that change. But it's your life, do as you please! If you can find that balance in your life, more power to ya!

CHANNELED SONGS: ALCOHOLIC by COMMON KINGS

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PILE 3: ACE OF DIAMONDS

If you chose pile 1, the vice that best describes your personality is:

***CRACKHEAD***

**** DISCLAIMER: I am not insinuating that you’re a meth/coke head, even if that's true haha. I am not your doctor, pastor, therapist, parent, sibling, boss, the police, your parole officer, NONE OF THAT. So I dont care what you do on your own time. I am not condoning those actions either but its your life and you can do whatever you want with it.****

Regardless of your personal choices, this is what it says about your personality:

The most energetic of all the piles

CEO/Supervisor energy

Very focused and determined to accomplish anything you set your mind to. You are willing to start things over as many times as you need until you get it right.

You may have an addictive personality but also others may find your personality very addicting as well. Once someone has tasted your energy, its very hard to shake you.

People may become very obsessed with you. You circle peoples minds multiple times a day. They just cant figure you out. You may also be very obsessive and possessive yourself.

FOCUSED. FOCUSED. FOCUSED, Extremely focused individuals. Your focus is probably your most admirable trait.

As focused as you are, you are also probably a very great multitasker

Entrepreneurs or entrepreneurs in the making. You may be very business minded

You are usually always 10 steps ahead of the game. You see all sides and make very calculated moves based off of your observations.

Very observant individuals. You probably notice and remember the tiniest details about people and you know how to make people feel really special in every interaction with you. People don’t expect you to remember certain things they’ve mentioned or worn, but when you bring it up to them long after the fact, you really make people feel SEEN & HEARD. This makes you more trustworthy in their eyes.

May be accused of being narcissistic but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. You may have been a victim to narcissistic abuse in the past so you’ve learned the ins and outs of all the mind games being played. So when someone uses a mind game on you, you flip it back on them and then they have the audacity to call YOU the narcissist. It has become your tool for self defense but also agitates those on the receiving end of your narcissism. To put it into perspective, most super heros and world leaders are narcissistic because they need to be. If not, they would get chewed up and spit out by the world and wouldn’t last a day in their position. If they wanna call you a narcissist because you refuse to adopt their mindset or their perspective, then so be it! Accept the title and keep it pushing. Remain true to yourself.

Very self-reliant and reliable. You conquer every task and assignment thrown at you and you do an amazing job at it in a very time efficient manner. People may try to discredit you or say you couldn’t have done it all by yourself but the proof is in the pudding darling. In reality, these folks are just projecting their own insecurities on to you because we all know, if they were in your position, there is no way they could have done that on their own. No one can deny your workmanship because you prove it time and time again.

Lone wolf vibes. You may not have many friends or you may not be open to inviting new people into your circle. “NO NEW FRIENDS” vibes

You probably have a sturdy set of friends and you’ve known them for a long time.

Very secretive and private. You may enjoy your privacy and may tend to keep a lot of your life hidden from the public eye.

Very protective of your energy and your space.

May have a lot of people who constantly have an opinion on your life. You do a great job at blocking them and their noise out of the way and continuing to push along.

STRONG STAMINA – yall can last for a lonnnngggg time (however you interpret that LOL)

Great debater – if someone wants to come at you sideways, they better come prepared with their arguments because going against you isn’t easy. You know yourself, you know your facts and you know what happened. Barely nothing gets past you.

Out of all the piles, this pile has the most haters. I don’t know why and neither do you. You must be someone of significance to have this many haters. You represent PRESSURE and people feel that energy as soon as you walk into the room. This is a compliment for you but a threat to your haters. No one wants to feel pressured to improve. You don’t try to apply pressure. You just ARE pressure.

You cant be tamed. Very hard to lock down and hard to pin down.

Unbeatable

Invincible

Immunity

Misjudged and misunderstood but never stops remaining true to yourself. Let the haters do their thing but keep doing you booboo.

Diamond in the rough

Might wear a lot of jewelry or you should wear more jewelry but this is something people notice about you. Maybe you have tons of jewelry or you have a piece of jewelry that people remember you for. If not, I suggest wearing more jewelry because it looks great on you.

ADVICE

Learn to handle the pressure that comes your way. You attract what you put out there and unfortunately, this is one of those things that is out of your control. People feel pressured when you are around therefore, you may feel as though pressure is constantly being applied to you. Don’t sweat it. These experiences are to show you how strong your character truly is but you must remain true to who you are if you want it to work in your favor.

Its okay to be more open and available to others. You can still maintain your strong boundaries but you don’t have to shut the entire world out. Remain open!

Keeping an open mind may also be helpful for you. Not everything will play out the way you envisioned it in your brain so keep an open mind so you can solve your problems as they arise.

Take some time to relax. You give off very strong workaholic vibes and sometimes you can overwork yourself to exhaustion. Give your body the rest it needs through sleep. Remember to eat throughout the day and fill your body up with the nutrients it needs to keep you going and alert for your various tasks. Go outside and enjoy the outdoors. Take time to care for yourself.

 Learn to lighten up a little. Your laser focus can sometimes make you too serious to be around. Laugh a little. Smile more. Let loose. Enjoy the life in front of you. Balance out your work and play and you’ll find your life is more enjoyable that way.

If you are addicted to the drug, my advice would be to invest in yourself more. You won't have the money to spend on drugs if you throw your money into something that will benefit you more in the long run. Take a class to build on a skill you already have, sign up for a committee, give yourself responsibility and bring purpose back into your life. But start small. Learn to depend on yourself and hold yourself up before trying to overextend yourself for others. Too much responsibility is probably what got you to this point or maybe it was the lack thereof. Whatever the case be, you need to love on yourself more & know that you are more than enough. The wheels will start moving for you once you make that change and the clarity that follows will bring you immense joy.

CHANNELED SONG: WINNAH WINNAH by RIA ft SPAWNBREEZIE

[forgedraptor]

hanahaki au p6

Penguin is looking at him weirdly again. That little scrunch between his eyes and frown means the man is thinking in overdrive

Its been a couple of weeks since Law spat out his first petal, ever since hes been using a mask to cover his face, luckily it didint garner any suspicion because of his work as a doctor, but the coughing surely did

its like a tickle at the back of his throat that he just cant itch, Law knows theres some left over petals down there that cant seem to get out enough fr a free windpipe but damn, sometimes he wishes he could do surgery on himself to take some of it off because its so damn annoying

alas he cant magically conjure up an operating room to do it, so he'll stick to massaging his throat and drinking dry-cough syrup to try easing the pain

does that even work? will it even help his agitated throat or just leave the flowers stuck down there covered in medicine? law does not know nor does he have enough energy to care

but more than that, his friends are starting to worry, well, worry more than usual. Bepo is trying to convince him to go to a doctor, even though technically, they are doctors too, just in a different field. Sachi has been bringing soothing teas and drinks that hes been forcing Law to drink. His favorite seems to be lemon and honey this week. Law cant lie, it does help even if its a short time

Meanwhile Penguin, that annoying perceptive asshole, has been staring at him for the past 20min and not saying a word and Law has a dreaded feeling that the man is connecting outrageous but also accurate thoughts about Laws symptoms

Maybe its because the three were there when Law finally stopped denying himself for having a crush on Luffy (which may or may not be because the three had pointed out all the facts, with a PowerPoint presentation and pictures to showcase his infatuation with the strawhat wearing boy with the last slide saying: 'you deserve to love and be loved idiot!!' in all caps which yes, may have left the four of them in a pile of limbs, hugging and crying at night and waking up to work the next day with red rimmed eyes and smiles, or in Laws case, a smirk)

But yes, it seems that Penguin has been connecting the dots, and as crazy as it may seem hes always been good at giving the most craziest suggestions and ideas that could either be the right deductions or close enough for them to diagnose the right symptoms or solutions they need to help a pateint.

like law said, perceptive asshole.

so its not too far in the realm of reality for Penguin to realize something is wrong, and not in the usual 'you need to eat and sleep more' way but something deeper, and thus the reason why his thinking face is currently on the tired cardiac surgeon and annoying the fuck out of him

But Law isint going to say anything, Penguin can glare all he wants but he is not saying a word. fuck that. and fuck Penguin.

but the world has a funny way to mess up his plans every single time because the moment he tries to stand up and leave, his chest gives a painful clench and a sudden pulsating, stabbing pain overwhelms laws everything.

stumbling, he grabs the closes surface he can find which is luckily part of the table, but which is unluckily, full of books, papers, coffee cups and other shit they were to lazy to clean up, and it all crashes unto the floor, as law wheezes for the breath that he cant seem to get from his lungs. fuck why did it suddenly get so fucking painful??

someone is grabbing him, shit is the world titling? he cant breathe. he needs to breathe. something is stuck in his throat. he needs to fucking breathe. law suddenly feels a pair of hands around his chest and a sudden painful squeeze. A wave of nausea hits him as something forcibly gets spat out of his mouth and unto his mask

its only a few minutes later when the black splotches in his eyesight disappears that law realizes hed fallen over and is now slumped on the ground, with Bepo next to him holding his hand and breathing deeply, trying to make law instinctually copy him, with Sachi holding a pulse ox and is that an oxgyen tank? and Penguin is holding his mask and shirt open- fuck. wait. his mask. fuck. the petals.

"law. youve got a lot of explaining to do, you fucker."

Bepo is silently crying, Sachi's hand that is still holding and oxygen tank which is, what the fuck?? is shaking, and Penguin isnint even shouting as he hissed those words.

he sounds like a person who finally figured out a puzzle piece that was missing but then the finished image is something you hate, so you seethe and burn in anger and frustration and oh fuck.

law is so dead.

[eldritch-spouse]

Okayokayokayokay one niche kink I never really get into because if it were real it would be gore and I dislike seeing it in art because it’s anatomically sanitised (if that makes sense) is “all the way through”. But since you’ll def write gore I HAVE to ask

Would any of your OCs fuck somebody to death this way? Like I know many wouldn’t have the body type to actually manage this, but those who do.

(And on the other side, who would like to be fucked like this? Aside from Patches the Whore)

[I think you're talking about the types of goofy porn where someone gets fucked through but it's just the head popping out the mouth, that's funny as shit.]

TW: Absolutely nasty levels of gore.

It's not really that surprising who'd go for this.

Kalymir is a big fan of impalement. And he doesn't always get to do it, so he cherishes the times he does. He remembers the old days, where a couple of humans would be stupid enough to summon him, but they never provided big enough sacrifices of flesh, so he'd take matters into his own hands and snatch the nearest cock-sock available. Mouth? Ass? Who cares, it's going in one hole and out the other! He finds it funny really, seeing the guts get squeezed out of his fucktoy with only a couple of thrusts. Kalymir makes sure the other ones are watching when he lets the broken pile of a former person drop to the ground before he picks a new, tighter little fuckpocket. If you're sick enough for it, you could suck the tip of his cock after he skewers someone on it. He'll really lose it.

Vesper isn't often that violent, you know this, but foul moods are still foul moods- And maybe you have to fuck them away. Sometimes he's cruel enough to shove both massive cocks into someone's poor hole, but they usually tear in two before he can reach the mouth, which is a shame, it tends to happen no matter how hard Vesper tries to hold the fucktoy together. Other days he'll only use the tendril between his cocks, jerking off to the sight, extending some magic to make sure his little meal keeps squirming long after they're supposed to. It's more practical to just impale two at once, flex his dicks and watch them hover like depraved little cock rings. Hah.

Krulu has had many opportunities to treat humanity like the garbage it is. And you, his sweet chosen, are often the one who goes hunting for his next warm toy. They usually start dying from exposure to him before he's even properly started, so the sensation of being impaled is probably only a tad more aggravating. Nevertheless, Krulu fucks them open hard and fast, which means he burns through fuckmeat pretty fast. But it's worth it, right? All that work is worth it because you can see his face twist in mad pleasure, his id fully satisfied in these moments as he gets to deform and disrespect the creations of his brethren, cum-soaked guts splattering on the altar.

Miara hasn't done this in ages. But it can and will happen when she wants to deal with wastes of breath on her own. It's not exactly hot for her, so much so as it's done out of pure malice. However, taking a sharp turn, if you were to present yourself to her and plead to die impaled on her cock (an honor), she would happily grant that end to you, affording you time to schedule it and making sure all of your last moments will be spent in pure ecstasy, even as your poor body tears at the seams to welcome her girth. People will remember you fondly, as someone whose devotion was unmatched. Miara will miss you.

Zizz doesn't really do it on purpose. He's just... A big boy. And sometimes he forgets to lend magic to his casual bed partners, especially when he's sleepy. And it's hard to notice when he's going too far when he's basically half-conscious, they don't get to scream for long anyway before he breaks the parts that let them do that. Yeah sure, it's weird how wet it's getting and there's an odd smell in the room, but it feels nice. Really nice. So nice. He doesn't want to stop it, even if it's evident something's gone wrong by that point. Then Zizz cums and promptly realizes he's holding onto a disemboweled sack of a person.

Gallon has done this. Very rarely, but he did. Slimes in general can be horrifying killers. The most skilled of them easily climb into your insides via a big-enough orifice and can effectively expand inside your organism until you hemorrhage internally and tear apart. He's more fond of just using his tendrils to suspend someone and carelessly push through every section of their insides. It seems to amuse his clientele too.

Vinnel would do it the exact same way if he didn't fear dying with enough mass outside of his own suit. Cured Vinnel definitely does this regularly, with several tendrils at once, taking a wild sexual thrill from it.

Sever has never impaled someone, but he might if angered enough. It's more of a domination thing than a kink for him.

Magus has no real desire to sexually skewer someone on his cock, but it has happened on a handful of occasions. Mostly when some unlucky small mer stumbled upon the bigfin squid mermonster while he was in heat. He didn't even think, just senselessly bred them to death, their bleeding body glowing a faint bluish hue from top to bottom. He doesn't feel particularly bad about it, as anyone with two brain cells can scent the male in rut, so only a fool would swim to their certain death.

I can't really think of anyone who would enjoy getting fucked this way apart from Patches, to be honest. Maybe Shags. He does love his erotic self-harm, and shrooms live through very grievous wounds, so it's likely he'd take enjoyment from feeling his insides get a little ruined. Not enough to die.

[sparrowsong-7]

9. Lend an Ear

“Gods above this is boring…” L’vinia muttered, pacing around the dimly lit apartment, or rather this mess of a space that once could have been an apartment. It had been cooped up in here for three days now, awaiting some kind… well, it didn’t really know what it was waiting on, just that it had to wait. It kicked its foot against something hard underneath a pile of clothes. “Mother-” it reached down and produced a whole toolbox from beneath the pile, “That’s it, I’m cleaning this travesty.”

By the time Canary got back, the apartment was spotless. “What the-” she stared at the floor, dumbfounded that she could even see it. “Did you touch my shit?” she shouted from the entryway.

“I did in fact touch your shit” the doll shouted back from the bedroom. It came waltzing out into the living space with a smirk on its face, “Now praise me”.

Canary shot it an annoyed glance before returning to her data slate. “Later” she spat, “first, I need you to lend me an ear.”

L’vinia’s grin widened. “Sure thing”, it said, pulling off one of its own ears and tossing it to the Milala, “Think fast!”

Canary snatched the ear without thinking, took a beat, then realized what she was holding. “FUCK!” she hollered, dropping the ear to the ground, “Fuck fuck fuck, why would you do that!” She wiped her hand on her jacket despite there being no residue.

L’vinia simply cackled, finding the whole joke amusing. “Because it’s fucking funny, that’s why!”, it chuckled, walking over and picking its ear off the ground and snapping it back into place. “But seriously, what’s up?”

Canary groaned, shooting daggers at the doll. She strode over to the kitchen and threw her slate on the counter before opening the fridge to rummage. “I wanted to talk to you about potential jobs, you ass.”

L’vinia’s ears perked up. “You have my attention.”

[beevean]

Idw issue 69

mfw Sonic, Tails and Amy think it's more logical to team up with Eggman and use his technology to create a distraction by having Sonic participating in the race masqueraded allowing Tails and Amy to sneak in the shuttle going into space

rather than, just. find a way to bypass security and tell lanolin that something is amiss.

They know she might slam them into the ground like she did with Whisper :) she is completely unapproachable, after all :)

I know it won't happen, but if it does happen that Mimic thanks Lanolin for being the perfect ally thanks to her terrible personality, I will cackle like a seal.

And btw, since I keep seeing defenses on Twitter: yes, she was doing her job. Yes, Sonic, Tails and Amy couldn't stay on the track. I can maybe even accept that she didn't have the time to check on them to make sure they weren't hurt (although considering she didn't give a shit about Silver nearly dying in the jaws of a giant Chopper, I won't cut her any slack). I think, however, that her stans are ignoring something:

I am this close to making a compilation of every time Lanolin looked like she loathed the person she was talking to. This is not the face of a strict referee simply following the rules. This is the face of someone who is currently feeling disdain. Which is rich, because Sonic really didn't do anything to warrant this reaction, he didn't even look like he caused the accident and he didn't protest Lanolin telling him to get the fuck out - Tangle just said "they're our friends!" and she ignored her. In fact, she had no reason to add "The only thing that stopped a pile-up was Whisper's good aim", implying that she thinks her own teammate is the only competent person around here, and everyone else is just a buffoon that should feel ashamed of themselves (hey, character development from treating Whisper like an insane paranoid, progress?).

This attitude is not cute, or charming, or funny, and before you ask, no it wouldn't be even if she was a man. Being strict or a rule stickler doesn't justify the disdain that simply oozes out of her like a miasma against people who did her no wrong. This is what makes her so unpleasant, on top of her being unfair and having terrible judgment.

I don't blame the trio for not even thinking to deal with her. Who would?

In a fair world, she should end up alone, having alienated every ally of hers. I know it won't happen, of course, because they'll find a way to 🥺ify her. But for now I can dream.

[ssreeder]

oh my god. oh my goodness fucking gracious me.

so I just have to tell you that I found your fic this morning and I fucking SPEEDED through that shit (even though it was SO long--IM NOT COMPLAINING I LOVE LONG FICS) but oh my god. oh my god

you're so talented??? first of all, like I'm on my knees wondering where all this came from. like you came up with this?? it was in your head?? and you wrote it by yourself? oh my god reSPECT

also it's so beautifully written‼️‼️ I went back and looked at the character development and the everything because good lord it was so well paced. like I was on the edge of my bed seat during every single chapter. good lord

zukka + all of ATLA is my current hyperfixation and your fic has soothed me so completely

jesus christ on a cracker do you understand how talented you are?? do you *grabs you aggressively by the shoulders and stares deeply into your eyes* DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW INCREDIBLE AND SKILLFUL AND GORGEOUS THIS IS??? PLEASE

okay but in all seriousness, here are some of my favorite lines(mostly from the last chapter because jesus fuck I do nOT have time to scroll back through everything your wrote):

"And here he was, all these years later… not used to it. He knew he would never get used to the blood curdling scream a person made when the fire stripped their body clean and their bones were reduced to nothing but a pile of ash and a terrible smell.

No wonder the world referred to them as ash-makers."

Jesus fucking fuck. CHILLS BBY I HAD CHILLS

"Watch out for your little brother" OHOHOHO HEHEEEE

"'Your teacher will be someone who has mastered Neutral Jing. You need to find someone who waits and listens before striking. Do not worry about your old friend Aang, he isn’t buried in the ground yet!' Bumi cackled the way that he had since they were just kids.

...

'The white lotus Pai Sho piece? I don’t have a set, no one else knows how to play.'"

AHAHAH THE TOPH AND UNCLE IROH DROP IM GOING TO BE SICK

"I'll go wherever you go." KILLING MYSELF WHY ARE THEY SO SWEET

anyway that's enough from me (I feel like you should know I typed all of this while either rolling around on the floor screaming or sitting very still with a DEEPLY disturbing (so I'm told) and very somber expression on my face).

i hope you have a lovely day you gorgeous beautiful perfect human being

This is me reading your ask… dude wtf this is so nice!!!!

I AM BEING SHOULDER GRABBED WITH LOVE AND I REALLY LIKE IT AHHHHH!!! its so funny because its been so long since i wrote the first book you sent me those quotes and im like uhhhuhhh ohhh yeah mhmmmm wait i wrote that?? Haha (except the “watch out for your little brother”) cause that was twisted in a way that made me smirk.. haha that sentence meant so much!!! (I do think the bumi quote was directly from canon though so I take zero credit for that just trying to keep it canon haha)

I’m glad you like my writing enough to come scream at me. I love when people scream kind words at me I WANT TO BE SHOULDER GRABBED WITH PRAISE MORE AHHHHH!!!

thanks for this epic ask you’re fucking amazing never change

[that-basic-simp]

Dangerous Woman

"What is it now?" Odessa asked as we were brought into the headquarters at Overwatch.

"We need you and Y/N to take on a mission," Winston said as a shit load of files appeared in front of us.

"We need you to go undercover and since you're new to Overwatch, Odessa, we figured you'd be the perfect candidate."

She let out a sigh as she was sifting through the mountain piles of information in front of us.

"W-What are we even doin'?"

"Talon activity has picked up since the leader of Null Sector, Ramattra, started his attack on major cities. Such as King's Row. We believe that Talon is going to try to meet up with Ramattra so that they can work together," Tracer said as she zipped around the room.

"And what exactly are we going to do?" I asked.

"The next point of attack is Paris. More specifically, a ball that is going to be taking place. So we need you two to infiltrate the ball, find Talon and get information. Odessa, listen to me carefully," Tracer said. "Do not engage the enemy unless provoked or given good reason to."

"So if they start shootin' at Y/N, I can shoot back, yeah?"

"You won't be allowed to take any sort of weapons into the ball."

"Fuck," Odessa whispered. "But what if they do start shootin' at Y/N?"

"Run like hell," she said.

"That's no fun," she sighed.

"Your safety is more important than fighting Talon right now. We will eventually get them when the time is right," Tracer said. "And we'd be more than happy to get you both to help out."

"We'll see how this mission goes," I said.

"Good. We have your outfits ready for you in your sleeping quarters," Winston said. "And thank goodness we called you when you have your natural hair, Odessa."

Odessa sighed and ran her hand through her black mohawk, "Don't remind me. I forgot that I needed to get hair dye."

"It'll make ya look less like a target," I chuckled as I walked past her.

"Aye, you're one to talk," she said and lightly smacked the back of her hand across my ass.

"Odessa!" I laughed, running away from her as she stood up, trying to get me again.

"C'mere, princess," she let out a playful growl, chasing me all the way back to our sleeping quarters.

"Are you sure they're the right people for this mission?" Winston asked.

"I have faith in them!" Tracer smiled.

We walked into our sleeping quarters to find what we needed to wear. As soon as I saw what Odessa was going to wear, I couldn't help but laugh inside, but my jaw dropped.

"Ain't no way in hell I am wearin' that!" she shouted as she walked over to the dress that was hanging up.

"Hold on, Dez. I want to see ya in it."

"I was expectin' a suit or somethin'."

"I know ya were, but let's see how it looks on ya. Besides, we're supposed to not stand out. I think you in a suit might make ya stand out."

"You want to know what's going to make me stand out? Me in a dress."

"If anythin', ya might catch some guy's attention."

"If anyone tries anythin' funny, I am poundin' their head into the ground. Especially if they get handsy with ya," she looked at the dress I was going to be wearing.

"At least it's nothin' too fancy. You're not that kind of person," I said and kissed her cheek.

She let out a sigh, running her hand through her mohawk, "I take it I've gotta take the mohawk out."

"Most likely."

"Fuck," she whispered as she walked into the bathroom to change.

While the room was empty, I got changed into the dress I was going to be wearing and I waited to get into the bathroom so I could do some makeup. At least some lipstick and mascara. The door opened up and Odessa walked out with the dress on and her hair was out of her mohawk, flat ironed to where it was straight and not wavy.

"W-Wow," I whispered, admiring her.

"D-Do I look alright?" she asked.

"You look amazing," I said, leaning towards her. I stood on my tiptoes and placed a peck to her lips.

A small smile appeared as she placed a kiss to my forehead, "Thank you, princess."

"I shouldn't say, amazing. Ya look stunning, wonderful, beautiful, attractive."

"Oh hush, Y/N. If ya want to do things later tonight why don't ya just ask?"

"Can we?"

"Of course," she said. "If we don't get blown to bits."

"I hope not," I said and walked into the bathroom, doing a bit of makeup before walking out.

"Odessa, what are you doing?" I asked.

"N-Nothing," she said, turning her back away from me.

I walked towards her, grabbing her shoulder, and spun her around. I noticed the hilt of one of my swords was in the back of her dress. With how it parted, it was a large V that exposed her muscular back, but with how the sword was placed, it looked as if it was part of the dress itself.

"T-That actually doesn't look too bad."

"And," she parted the siding of the dress to reveal Gracie was attached to her thigh.

"Really? Gracie is fine, but the sword is overkill."

"Just a safety precaution, princess," she said as we walked out of the room and to the hangar.

Tracer was there and was going to be our escort. Once we got into the airplane, she flew out to the airport in Paris before the three of us got out and she drove us to where the ball was going to be. Pulling up to the venue, we both got out and Odessa waited for me so I could walk in beside her. I wrapped my arm around hers and we walked in together.

"Remember you're here to get information," Winston said through our ear pieces, that were covered up by our hair.

While flying here, Tracer put mics on us that were disguised as well as small cameras too. They were ready for anything to happen.

"Got it, Winston," I pressed the earpiece.

"Maybe we should do somethin' like this back at home, princess," Odessa said as we walked in, seeing a large crystal chandelier. It glimmered and shined as the lights bounced off of it.

"Think Hammond can make somethin' like that?"

"He'd make it even better," Odessa chuckled as we walked around, trying to blend in.

As we were walking around, trying to socialize with people, I kept an eye on Odessa as she was cornered by a few guys. Letting out a sigh, I went to go make my way over to her, but something caught my attention. It was a woman who had light blue skin and a tall African man who was wearing the only white suit here.

"That's them, Y/N," Tracer said.

"Who are they?"

"Akande Ogundimu and Amelie Lacroix. They're Talon members. Otherwise known as Doomfist and Widowmaker."

"Follow them, Y/N," Winston said.

I looked over at Odessa, who was dealing with her own issues. I let out a sigh and followed after the two. I hid behind a pillar as they stopped and started talking to an omnic who was wearing robes. There were cables attached to his head to make the appearance of dreadlocks.

"Ramattra," Doomfist began. "Good to see you again."

"Likewise," said the omnic.

"Can we please get this over with?" Widowmaker asked. "I don't like being here."

"Of course. Now, what is your plan?" Doomfist said.

"We are going to set up camps here and overrun small parts of Paris. Simple as that. If Talon were to aid, that'd be such a pleasure. I could use the help of humans like you, even if I despise them."

"What does Talon get in return?"

I was closing in on their conversation, but a small gust of wind whisked past me.

"Dez," I pressed onto the earpiece.

"What's up, princess?"

"We're not alone."

"What?"

"We're not--" I was cut off by someone coming out of nowhere and placing a hand on my mouth.

"Scream and you'll regret it," someone said.

Looking behind me, I knew who it was. Sombra. I growled lowly, but I didn't move. I heard footsteps coming towards me and that was when Odessa appeared from behind the pillar.

"Oh fuck," she whispered.

"Gotcha," Sombra chuckled and sent out an EMP that cut off our communication to Tracer and Winston.

"Catcha later," she disappeared.

"Oi, where the fuck did ya go?!" Oddessa yelled, about to bring out her knife.

I looked behind the pillar to see they were gone.

"Damn it. Dez, we gotta go."

"Freeze!"

There were guards surrounding us. Odessa and I raised our hands in the air. One came over and kicked me behind the knee, causing me to fall onto the ground.

"Y/N!"

"Dez," I breathed out. "It's going to be fine."

"Silence!" the guard yelled and bashed the end of his assault rile inbetween my shoulder blades.

"Y/N," Odessa breathed out.

"Dez, no."

It was as if everything happened next was in slow motion. She reached behind her back and unsheathed my sword. Swinging it upwards, she sliced one of the assault rifles that was pointed at her in half.

"FIRE!"

Dodging the bullets, she ran around the pillars and came up from behind one of the guards. She knocked him in the back of his head with the hilt of my sword and stabbed another that was running towards her. Pushing the side of her dress away, she pulled out Gracie and stuck it into the neck of another guard before slicing the head off of another. There were two guards left who just booked it. Putting Gracie back in the sheath on her thigh, she lifted me up over her shoulder and walked out of the building.

The car Tracer drove zipped into the front, avoiding the mass panic now, and the doors opened up. Odessa put me down before we got into the car. She closed the door and we drove off. I let out a sigh as there was a dull pain in the middle of my back.

"You really are something," Tracer said.

"They were hurting Y/N," Odessa croaked out, looking at the blood on the blade.

"I'm ok, Dez."

She looked down at me, worry still in her eyes, "I wasn't going to lose you tonight. I've seen what those kinds of guns can do. They can unload rounds upon rounds without stopping or stalling. I wasn't going to risk losin' you."

A small smile appeared as I leaned into her, my head resting on her shoulder.

"You really are a dangerous woman."

She chuckled, "You bet 'cha I am."

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"Tilt Shift." Jason Carvey X FEM! AFAB! Reader.

Alright Bloodfest week two is in the bag! And who do we have but our limited screen time shitty film bro Ghostface Jason Carvey! I dunno why, but I really like him, he’s entering into the rotation. Buckle up guys, this is a pure hate fucking piece. Let’s go. 

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 4K. Jason Carvey X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Jason Sucks. You Kinda Suck. Enemies To Fuck Buddies. Arguing. You And He Hate Each Other. Raw Sex. Vaginal Sex. Eating Out. Man Handling. Some Dominance. 

—

You don’t think there is a single human being on Earth you get along with less with than one Jason-Who-Gives-A-Fucking-Shit-What-His-Middle-Name-Is-Carvey. He fucking sucks. He always wants to play devil's advocate, he always seemed to think your opinions were less than and had always had some smart comment to make to whatever you attempted to add to class discussion, he was a typical, shitty, film bro asshole. You avoided him whenever possible. You reluctantly had to see him multiple times a week in film class, and bumped into him around campus far more often than you’d like.

Getting paired up by random number lottery to do a duo project was the worst possible thing that could happen, there is no one that you would have liked less than him to be partnered with. A heavy sigh and your head dropped to your desk, he immediately launched into complaints and the class laughed, yeah it was real fucking funny how you were going to be tied to him for the end of semester project. 

This is your nightmare, you mused, this is Hell. 

The idea was that you are supposed to take a movie trailer and edit it, so it looks like it fits into a different genre, a great project you would have normally jumped at were you put with anyone else. The first three days were spent arguing over which trailer from the list to go with, you took so long that all the other options were snapped up, and you were left with the last one, forced to take it, and Jason didn’t take any blame for the fact the slim pickings you were saddled with were his fault. He said, “We gotta make it look like a horror film-”

And you were so tired of his crap already that you conceded. 

“Fine, whatever you fucking want, Jason.” You sighed, and he asked, clearly not buying that you would give in first, “Wait, really?”

“Really, let’s make it look like the dumbest, cheesiest, shlockiest 80s gore fest we can.” Even with your flat and less than impressed tone, you thought he would be all about it, but in typical Jason fashion he took offence. He started to say that you could make it look much better than that, and you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. 

The guy was always so busy, you had limited time to do this and as much as you didn’t want to work with him, you had to get this done, intent on getting a good grade. Turning in late would cut into your mark's considerably. After a pile of texts and no less than five voicemails, you finally get a curt, “I booked the editing room at 10 PM, see you there.” 

You had plans, but you needed to get this project done, so you cancelled the evening's activities reluctantly and made your way over. You had already gotten ready to go out tonight when he messaged, gave you less than two hours notice. You’d had just enough time to finish your food since you were out at dinner and make it back, run in and get your shit before you had to depart for your meeting with your less than stellar partner. You make it there five minutes before ten pm, you find the room empty, of course he got the last slot, no one wants to be editing this late on a fucking Friday night. Everyone else with good sense had gotten everything else done before now. 

You slump down in a chair, drop your bag and take out your flash drive with the work you’d put in thus far, you plug it into the computer and cue it up.

And then you ended up waiting for half an hour for Jason to stroll in, far too casually considering how late he was. He took the chair next to you in front of the computer, setting down a bag of fast food, a soda before he shrugged his bag off his one shoulder and set it on the ground in front of the desk. He hadn’t said hello, he hadn’t even looked at you, arms crossed as you observed him in pure disbelief. 

He was getting his stuff set up, taking his video camera out of his bag, getting the cord to attach it to the computer you’d claimed, a notebook, a pencil, he was eating a few fries in between. Fuck, he is the actual worst, while he is still setting up you cut in and say finally, “Hello?”

He stops, a look over to you, expression showing he was totally fucking confused why you were greeting him in this way, or greeting him at all, he says, “Hey?” 

You laugh, eyes rolling as you lean back in your chair, “Are you fucking serious?”

“What? What did I do now? I just got here!” He sighed, turning back to his bag, and you tell him, “That is exactly the problem, Jason! You tell me, not ask, TELL me to show up here, no regard for my Friday night plans, and I don’t fight you on it! I show up, early, and you stroll in a half hour late with fucking McDonald's and not so much as an apology for being late! You are unbelievable.” 

He shakes his head as he sighs, “Jesus, you are sensitive-” 

“Jason!” You bite out, upset at the very idea you are sensitive for being upset at this, and he scoffs, “Fine, fucking sorry for being a little late-” He said it mockingly, it could turn your stomach. You wanted to fight him further, the idea that he was “a little late” was pissing you off, him acting as if he was just a touch behind schedule, but you didn’t want to be here all night. 

“Whatever, can we get started?” You asked, and he said, “Yeah, so long as you are done being a bitc-”

“Do not finish that sentence, Carvey.” 

He looked over at you and upon seeing how serious your expression combined with your downright venomous tone, he bit his tongue with a muttering of the word, “Fine.”

Thank the Lord, he was dropping it. Maybe now you can get some actual work done-

“Why are you wearing that?” He was staring at you, brow creased in question. You looked down at yourself, heeled boots, short skirt, low cut top and made up, you’d planned to go to a party with friends and due to his fucking shitty timing you didn’t have the chance to change. 

Your eyes draw back up and meet his as you inform him, “I was planning to go out tonight until someone texted me to come do the work I’ve been begging to do for weeks, and I figured I better jump at the chance cuz who knows when I’ll get it again.” 

He smiled, that stupid self-satisfied smile, he had his soda in one hand and a few fries in the other as he tells you, “Yeah, sorry about that, I’m a very in demand kinda guy.” 

“Yeah, I am so sure.” You sigh, and you lean forward, “Okay so here is what I have so far-” You click the space bar and let what you had gotten done solo play out. 

He, of course, hated it. 

Endless criticism with no real praise to be found, he was going on and on, spewing his usual bullshit, “This is a joke! Total amateur hour! Did you even follow the story board we drew up?”

“Yes, I fucking did! Look-” You hold up your sketchbook and go through the shot he was current critiquing and pointing out, “See?! These are all your stupid angles and notes, I fucking did it-”

“No way, if I handled it, it’d look much better-” You groan, a hand combing through your hair, dropping your sketchbook into your lap with your other hand, “You are impossible to work with Jason!”

“I’m not asking for much here! It isn’t difficult.” He insists, gesturing with his half empty soda, and you say with raised brows, “Taking a beloved rom com trailer and editing it to look like a horror film isn’t hard?”

He groans, and you swear he might just stamp his foot in indignation, “No! You just gotta do it with care! See the love interest is supposed to be the monster, the villain, he is a ravenous beast seeking to corrupt her, and you are not conveying that right!”

You don’t know why you ever agreed to this. You should have fought him harder on the genre.

“If it is so bad, why don’t you show me what you have so far?” You ask, and he says, “Gladly.” 

He pulls up what he has so far, and it isn’t much of anything, it’s a few disjointed shots, some cobbled together audio and music, and you say, “You’ve hardly done anything, and you are criticizing me?!”

“My vision is clearer than yours is thus far-” He defends, and you cut in, “What vision? I can barely see anything!”

He takes a deep breath to calm himself and instead of pushing further he offers,“It’ll take me like thirty minutes to get it together, just give me what you have so far, and I’ll fix it.” 

Your mouth gapes, jaw drops, “You want me to just let you do all of it? Trust you to do this solo? Fat fucking chance!” 

“We are gonna be here all night then.” He says firmly, and you sigh out, “Fucking fine, I guess so.” 

You both set to work in relative silence, you agreed to do the front end and him to finish it up, you and he steal glances at the others screens and more comments and barbs fly. You and he have this terrible habit of riling each other up, he just annoys you so much, it’s so hard to play nice and take the high road when he is like this.

“Really? You are using that as your transition-” You start, and he bites, “And what would you do? A fucking flash to black between shots bracketed by a sting of violin music?” 

You make a sound of pure disgust, “You think so fucking highly of me.” 

He spins in his wheelie office style chair and turns to look at you, he tells you, “Sweetheart, I don’t think of you in any way.” 

You spin in your chair to face him better, arms crossing over your chest, “Thank God for that, otherwise I might vomit, I’d hate to ruin the carpet in here.” 

Next you are up out of your chair, and you stretch your arms above your head, your eyes are closed, head back, so you miss the small detail of Jason’s eyebrows raising as the hem of your shirt does, enjoying the bit of skin you revealed with the action. Your arms come down and so does your gaze, his expression schools back into something more akin to hatred, and you say, “I’m going to the bathroom and gonna hit the vending machine.” 

“Yeah whatever.” He shrugs and turns away, you make your move to walk out and tell him, “Be right back.”

He was less than subtle this time around when checking you out, blatantly staring at your ass through the glass window of the editing bay, you weren’t going to call him on it. Walking down the hallway it made you laugh with a shake of your head, you were musing, “Mmmhm, he totally neverrr thinks about me.” 

You are still thinking about it while you are washing your hands, “Is this why Jason is such an asshole to me? Because he actually wants me? Shit, be more fucking cliche’.”

After leaving the bathroom and finding yourself in front of the vending machine, considering your options, maybe you were imagining things, maybe he wasn’t looking at you like that.

You put the money in and make your selection and watch the metal spiral spin and twist till the small bag of chips and the candy bar you selected fell. You fished them out and slid to the next one, keying in to get a can of something cold. Even if he was looking at you like that, who says you should do anything about it, maybe you could let ol’ Carvey suffer and stew. 

Once you were back in the room you open the can, you stride to your chair and sit yourself down, you are mid-sip and putting the food on the desk with your other hand. The way you sat made your skirt rise up a tad, your legs cross, the can comes down and your opposite and free hand smoothed the material down over the curve of your thigh and that is when you notice it, he’s looking again. 

Oh, he did want you. This was no wandering of a wild imagination, Jason actually was “taking in the sights”. You wanted to laugh until you realized something crucial. You’d swapped seats, you took the empty one without thinking, but this was his old chair, the crumpled McDonald's bag is what made it click. He was seated in yours now, meaning that he was editing your shit. You look over to the screen where his attention was fixed once more, and you see him doing some serious damage, you slam the can down and stand up, hand pushing on his shoulder as you exclaim, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

He half turns in the chair, the violent jerking of his body from the force of you putting your hands on him, his own hands up and away from the keyboard, he looked shocked you touched him in such a way, so sudden and violent, “What?!”

You point at the screen as you ask much too loudly, “Why are you in my chair and what the fuck are you doing?!”

“I didn’t know if you were actually coming back, thought I should help you out since you so clearly need it.” He spits, and you scoff, “My bag is still here Jason, like I’d leave my shit in the editing bay alone all night with you, it’s bad enough I have to be here.” 

“Again, you could let me handle it and you could go. I want to go a more found footage angle than you do anyway-” You suck your teeth indignantly, “You actually like that found footage shit? And how are you gonna make this look like that? Tilt shift it in after effect and slap some fucking filters on it?” 

He leaned in closer as he spoke to you in a harsh tone, “What did you say before? Accusations of me thinking highly of you? Why don’t you flip that mirror back around to look at yourself.” 

He was still looking at you in that annoying way that told you he was checking you out, and so you say, “No, I don’t think I’ll do that, I think you are looking at me enough for the both of us.” 

The word was almost coughed out, “What?”

And the word of the day is. You stare him down as you say, “I see you fucking staring at me, you son of a bitch. I’m not as stupid as you treat me.” 

“Are you sure about that? Because right now it sounds like you are delusional and convinced I want to fuck you.” He laughs but there is no bite behind it, he is trying and failing to cover himself up, he is struggling to meet your gaze. 

“I don’t think I am that delusional.” You state simply, and he questions, “Oh no?”

“No. In fact, I am sure you want to fuck me so badly that I could ride you right here, and you’d more than let me, I think you’d love it.” 

You decide not to let him get any more chances to argue, you reach down, fingers slip up your skirt, thumbs hook in your underwear, and you drag them down, stepping one leg out you said, “Get your stupid jeans open, right now.” 

His expression is confused, eyes are wide, but his hands scramble, belt open and undone, pants unzipped he is shuffling them down his thighs before sitting back down, now you take in the sights, and he isn’t a bad size, this could work. You certainly aren’t going to give him the satisfaction of complimenting him, he speaks up, half cocky smile, with a hand around the base of his shaft, “You like it?”

You swing one leg over and sit in his lap as you sigh, “It’s passable, I suppose it’ll have to do.” 

He frowns at that, and you grind yourself against him, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. Fingers curl in the material of the college branded shirt he wore, and you rolled your hips, dragging yourself against him, causing the head of his dick to bump over your clit making both you, and he shared a sharp inhale. You already hated this simply because that one simple move felt far better than it should, it pissed you off. You tested it again, you repeated the action, and it was better than the first pass, another proved to increase the feeling and so it goes and that just serves to fuel the fire of both rage and lust inside of you. 

“What the fuck-” You breathe out, head tipping back, hips rolling, and he ruts up into you, providing extra friction and asking, “What? What are you going on about now?” 

“This-” You grind again and let a breathy moan slip out, and he then moves again, matching you move for move, and you grit out, “-it’s too fucking good, it shouldn’t feel this fucking good, and it’s-”

You moan louder, “-it’s pissing me the fuck off.” 

It's honest and raw and vulnerable and, above all else, very fucking true. His hands are on you, one on your hip to help control pace and another on your back, under your shirt, fingers on bare skin as he ruts up into you as he stares up, meets your gaze as he says, “Take it out on me.” 

Now it was your turn to use the word of the day, “What?”

He moves slower this time, more purposeful, it makes you choke back a moan, and he reiterates himself, “Take your anger out on me then.” 

You think that is the first smart thing he has ever said. 

Enough is enough, and you figure that you should take him up on his offer, you raise yourself up, hand comes down behind you, fingers lock onto him and position him just so, you angle your hips, and then you do the most natural thing possible at that moment, you sit down, sliding him deep inside in the process. 

Your hands move, one remains on his shoulder and the other slides into his slightly too long black hair and threads, you pull as you soak in the feeling of him stretching your walls, a deep sigh leaves you, satisfied in some regard simply from being filled. You revel for a moment until he shifts below you, eyes flick down, and he is staring up at you still, brows pinched together as he insists, “Move already.”

You scoff and tug harder on his hair, force his head back as you tell him, “Shut up.” 

“That hurts-” He groused, and you roll your eyes as you start to move, heeled boots on shitty carpet you start to ride him, asking in a breathy but ultimately teasing tone, as if the question was rhetorical, “Better?” 

The shaky moan he let out, while incoherent, told you very much so yes. 

You start to find your rhythm with riding him, enjoying yourself, angling your hips to grind your clit and that sweet spot inside to get what you wanted out of this sooner rather than later. As his eyes slip closed, and he lets you do what you wanted, allows you to take your anger out on him, you have the thought that like this? When he isn’t running his mouth and when he is letting you ride him as if it is the only thing he was ever good for, he’s actually pretty attractive. Even if he could stand for a haircut. 

You wouldn’t tell him that though, again, why give him the satisfaction, especially when you are so concerned about your own pleasure. 

Mean jabs and hurtful words left you now, just laboured breathing and moaning as you rode him, intent on seeing to your own end, and he was doing a lot to ensure it actually, moving with you, rocking up into you, seeing to your satisfaction and enjoyment in a way you’d almost call uncharacteristic of him. After two seconds of thought, though, it’s obvious he was getting just as much out of this. 

The build of it isn’t quick per se, but it’s steady, one of those orgasms that builds in almost a steady arc, not really any valleys, just a consistent climb, up and up, until your pace becomes a bit uneven, thighs shaking, breath stuttering until it culminates and you cum. Your fingers are still in his hair, but there isn’t any serious tension there, no longer holding taut, grinding down onto him, shallow, fast thrusts of him in and out halfway as you ride out your bliss with a quiet and singular, “Yes.” on your tongue. 

You squeeze all you can out of your orgasm before you slow to a stop. Your eyes open, and you huff out a, “Fuck, I needed that.” 

And next? You get up. You stand, slip him out and swing your leg back over, getting off of him and breaking away. 

You are reaching down, going to fix your underwear and slide it back up, and he asks, “Uh, what are you doing?”

Eyes flick to him, a confused look on his face and his dick still out, painfully hard and soaked from you, “Well we still have a project to finish, I was gonna get back to work and then hopefully go back to my dorm to crash.” 

“What about me?” He asked, and you respond with a smile, a slight cock of your head, “What about you Jason?”

Your eyes drop, you are pulling your underwear back up when you feel it. His hand locked on your bicep and then him yanking on you, pulling you over to the desk, and then he pushes you down, hands finds your hips, and he moves you to his liking. One is on the back of your thigh and pushing your leg up, knee finds purchase on hardwood, and he is leaning down, his chest to your back, you feel his hair on the back of your neck, lips brush by your ear, “Yeah you are not gonna leave me with blue balls sorry.” 

He is slipping back inside, and you arch back into him, a shared moan spills forth, “You took your anger out on me, so now I’m going to do the same.” 

Second-best idea he’s had all night. Well you thought that until later on he was going down on you post fuck, making you cum on his tongue until you were almost sobbing, but that is something else entirely. 

You ended up staying in the editing bay all night but by the end of it you had the project done and, reluctantly, a new fuck buddy. At least Jason Carvey turned out to be good for something. 

[wolfsuggest]

I just think it would be really funny if it’s AU (I say AU cause I’m not saying post-show because fuck everything after *insert least fave season here for me it’s Ally’s death that made me just give up lmao* so all my faves are alive but like. None of That happened lol) and every two weeks the pack that’s still in Beacon Hills shows up to go camping in the woods. But like, nice camping. So they stick the parents in nice tents with camping mattresses that won’t hurt their backs and everyone else swaps between puppy piles (they lose boundaries closer to full moons) or nice nests.

But like. Peter is still a bitch. So obviously he started off with the biggest and best tent. Lydia and Allison have the second biggest but they’re even less snobby than him somehow. Stiles ends up extracting himself from a puppy pile wrapped up in a blanket and looking annoyed and tired cause they’re uncomfy af only to find Peter sitting in a full ass glamping style setup with an armchair and a book, and just without thinking about it climbs into Peter’s bed to pass out because fuck that Scott keeps running in his sleep and it’s so annoying.

So the next time they go out Peter hands him a nicer camping mattress.

And the next time it’s a better blanket and pajama set. And then it was a couple random comics when Stiles got bored. And fancy coffee during a morning even tho Peter claimed he would never make one of those little feral idiots his 50$ a cup coffee. And then a full ass new tent because Stiles got kept up all night one night and became so cranky even the Sheriff was like ‘kiddo, calm ur shit ur scaring the wildlife’ and Peter found it SUPER funny but also he’s afraid Derek’s bad morning personality would clash with Stiles’ and they’d kill each other. He’d even put money on the little one okay. Stiles looks like he could bite to the bone if tempted. So a nice new tent. And suddenly Stiles is regularly well slept. But, Peter misses those few times Stiles would crankily make his way to Peter’s tent and stink up Peter’s bed with human idiot smell. So he’s gotta get that attention back so he’s getting him new random things. New blanket, new pillowcase (not new pillow, he knows that rule) new pajamas, new slippers, steal an old blanket but it’s okay cause you got a new one lmao we know this trick Peter.

But then Derek is just sitting there wondering why Peter thinks he’s getting away with smelling like human idiot. He doesn’t Peter just also doesn’t care. And then suddenly that really confusing zip on tunnel that led from Peter’s tent to Stiles’ and ended up getting removed after the first time Stiles tiredly climbed into bed with him only to remember he got up to pee and now he barely made it and Peter laughed a lot but allowed the fragile human to keep his dignity and get rid of it but keeps waking up to a young adult on his chest anyways.

Anyways. Their wedding ends up being outdoors at this point okay they’re just gonna get married in the family camping grounds (where they keep the shed with all their camping gear so they don’t have to drag it back and forth and with three fully functional bathrooms in it because Peter is snooty and didn’t wanna be out here to begin with) and Peter’s snobby rich asshole college friends who haven’t seen him in years all got invited because he realized showing them he camps now is literally the funniest prank ever because they’ll think he’s trash now and won’t even realize that this is Peter’s version of being a rich snob too.

[lost-batarang]

Tim didnt hire himself as batman's emotional support robin to be infantilized like this (what would be funny though is if Bruce sends Tim (15) to babysit Jason (19) and Tim does maliciously compliance just to annoy Jason. No Jason doesnt get a say in this but atleast the kid is good at breaking and entering and breaking open a safe)

yes!!! I can imagine whenever Tim gets tired and Bruce is all broody n shit Tim just...slaps him.

Batman, perched on a gargoyle as lightning strikes near him: Thunder. Clouds. Storms. Loud. Loud as gunshots. Gunshots. Common in this city. This city. That's what it is, isn't it. A city. Gotham city. A society. We live in a societ-

Tim, slapping him round the face as the clouds & lightning goes poof: B. B you fucking idiot. I got fucking punched, B. In my fucking FACE, B. they PUNCHED a CHILD in the FACE, B. B! MY EYE. IS PURPLE. AND SWELLING.

Batman, staring off into the distance dramatically: It's bruised......like this city.

Tim: oh my god. B. My eye. Is starting to fucking bleed. And you're fucking brooding. I'm gonna push you off this gargoyle.

Tim & Jason

Tim, knocking on the manor door and just walking in to find Jason sleeping on the sofa covered in food: I don't get paid enough for this shit.

Jason, waking up: HuH- oh FUCK, are you Tim??? Bruce told me to babysit you for the day. Sucks to be you.

Tim, who knows damn well Bruce sent him to babysit Jason, through gritted teeth: Yeahh...Sure.

Some time later....

Jason, heading to the batcave: Hey, wanna rob the Batmobile tires n dump them in the trash?

Tim, sighing:....Do you even have the codes for the batcave?

Jason: Superman's a dork.

Batcomputer: Welcome back, Bruce Wayne.

Jason: You're not the only robin who heard Bruce yell the secret password!...you heard him yell the secret password before, right?

Tim, heading in the batcave w/him: That...wasn't a secret code. I just remotely unlocked the entrance using the actual secret code. I think Bruce was just messing with you.

Jason:....Fuck you.

Jason, trying to take the tires off the batmobile: Wow. Old man really upgraded these things, huh. Did he make any upgrades to the robin suit? Remove those stupid shorts?

Tim: Oh-. Uh, he actually did. He reinforced against blunt weapons and explosions. Incase- Actually, nevermind.

Jason: Oh. Yeah, okay, nevermind. Do you, uh wanna take the batmobile for a spin?

Tim: Sure. I know the passcode, if you need it-

Jason, already smashing through the window: the what?

A while later....

Jason, driving the batmobile with Tim in the backseat: OH GOD OH GOD OH FUCK OH SHIT-

Tim, who has been trying to tell this full grown man how to drive for the last 42 minutes: JASON JASON FUCKING TURN JASON

A crash later...

Some guy with a knife who was robbing some dude in an alleyway, seeing Red Hood covered in blood and oil as he emerges from a pile of flames, smoke, and metal slowly walk toward him, towering over everyone like a demon straight from hell, wreathed in flame, whilst Robin, covered in sweat fire & blood, stands beside him with a face that looks angrier than Batman on one his bad days:....

Red Hood: Reinforced Kevlar, Tim. It'll save your ass and make you look badass.

Robin: No shit.

Some guy with a knife and soiled pants, bolting away as fast as he can: FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

Red Hood, firing a single bullet that easily catches up to him and knocks him to the ground with a broken leg:

The guy who was being robbed, who just saw Red Hood emerge from a pile of fire, ash, and scrap wreathed in a flaming, furious, light like an avenging angel: I- Thank you?!

Red Hood: uh. Do you know where a mechanic is. We sorta need to get some repairs made now.

Robin, laying against a wall about to collapse from the heat of the actual fucking flames on his suit: and water please. water would be nice.