#maybe i will do some minor corrections by the time of release but that's a maybe...

[just-eyris-things]

new comic cover page? finished. title? still non-existent.

[strangerstilinski]

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐭. 𝟒 — 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; 𝘯𝘰 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺/𝘯, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘷𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹 (𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵), 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘺, 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨?, (𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦)

minors/ageless blogs please DNI.

REBLOGS are important. please reblog to share/save.

| 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟑 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟒 |

“Stop squirming around, would you?” Stiles huffs in frustration from behind you.

He's been like this for an hour, sitting between your spread legs, long fingers groping and rubbing and kneading at the doughy flesh of your backside. It had started out innocent enough, his restless hands gravitating to your ass while you'd been sprawled on your belly getting some reading done for one of your courses, but he'd gotten increasingly more distracting as time went on.

His hands had eventually slipped beneath the revealing cut of your sleep shorts to touch bare skin, calloused fingers dragging over soft flesh and the thin cotton of your underwear. Rather than simply sitting criss-cross between your thighs, he's upgraded to laying on his stomach, one arm curled beneath your leg so he can prop his chin on one of your thighs while his fingers continue to squeeze and massage.

He was right, you had begun to squirm. It was getting incredibly difficult to ignore the heat that his attention was causing to pool between your thighs.

“Since when are you an ass man, anyway?” You question as you finally give up on reading all together, trying and failing to peek over your shoulder to get a good look at him, “You've always been more of a boob guy.”

“I resent that,” Stiles is quick to defend, the pad of his thumb tracing the crease where your ass meets your thigh, “I like your ass just as much as I love your tits.”

You can't quite hold back a scoff at the blatant dishonesty and he's quick to correct himself.

“-alright, maybe I favor your tits a little, but- Oh my god, will you sit still?” Stiles snaps in mild irritation when your thighs try to clench instinctively but are unable to do so given the person currently wedged between them.

“What are you even doing back there?” You ask, voice thankfully only sounding a little affected, “You know, aside from admiring my ass and groping me.”

Your hips shift a little against the mattress and you know just by the brief moment of silence before his response comes that Stiles has noticed.

“Why?” He seemingly perks up in interest, voice pitching in a self-satisfied little drawl. His thumb dips between your thighs while he tightens his palm around you again and the digit comes achingly close to brushing against the wet patch you know has formed in the crotch of your panties, “'s'it workin' you up?’’ He questions eagerly.

“Yes.” You huff and squirm again, but there's a sharp sting on the meat of your ass, a hard pinch that makes you yelp in surprise and pain, “Did- Did you just bite me?” You ask in breathless incredulity.

Another painful pinch to your skin is the only response you receive. Stiles gives the flesh a hard suck before releasing it from his mouth and this time you're pushing up with one hand when you look over your shoulder, eyes roaming over his mischievous little grin, his full pink lips, the way that his fingers have tugged the fabric of your shorts up over the curve of your asscheek to display the evidence left behind.

“Jesus christ. Stiles! Look at what you did, what the hell-”

He looks annoyingly smug as his thumb drags over the place where his teeth have carved little indents into your skin, one of them already threatening to darken into a bruise where he'd sucked a hickey into the flesh.

“I dunno, I think it looks pretty fuckin' good.” He grins, exuding cool nonchalance right up until you catch the way that his hips roll down against the mattress to provide a little relief to his stiff cock.

“If you wanted to work me up, you could've just left a few marks on my thighs and gone down on me,” You flip your textbook closed with a huff, “Y'know, if you wanna get a little territorial or whatever. 's fine, it's hot, but there are much better ways to mark me up-”

His hand comes down on your ass in a light slap and you give him a half-hearted grumble about that not being what you meant, but he's already putting more pressure on his hand as he pushes up, and then his weight is gone completely.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t actually mean that one-” He apologizes as he tumbles from the bed in a mess of long limbs.

“What-” You start to roll onto your side to watch him, but the shout he sends over his shoulder as he digs through a drawer at his desk has you freezing.

“Don't move! Alright? I mean it!”

You settle back onto your stomach dutifully, propped up on your elbows as your gaze leaves his frantic search to re-open your textbook with a sigh, “What are you doing now? What're you even looking for?”

“You'll see. Now, quiet.”

His admonishment meets your ears sounding oddly garbled, like he's trying to speak around something in his mouth, and you make to turn toward him in curiosity, but he's already climbing back in between your thighs and giving your right asscheek a light slap in reprimand for moving. He tugs your shorts and underwear down your legs in one go and you can't help but crane your neck now, but the moment your torso twists to get a better look, he firmly pushes your hips back down onto the mattress, a wide palm spreading out over your skin to hold you in place.

Your heart pounds in excited anticipation at the feeling of your lower half being exposed while he's still fully clothed. Again, you try to clench your thighs together for just the little bit of friction the action normally provides, but there's not much relief with the way Stiles has you spread around him.

Something soft and cool meets your recently exposed skin, the texture difficult to place as it drags smoothly across the roundness of your backside.

“What's that?” You question, fighting the urge to wriggle in response to the peculiar feeling.

“Marker.” Stiles says easily, his voice taking on that edge it gets when he's focusing hard on something.

A soft snort of amusement leaves you as your palms fall to brace on the glossy pages of your textbook, “You're drawing on my ass?”

“Not.. Exactly..” He mumbles distractedly.

Another huff falls from your lips as the cap of the marker gives the telltale little click that indicates he's finished with his mysterious artwork, “Sti, seriously-”

A quiet groan cuts you off, the sound of it familiar and wholly erotic as it rumbles up his throat.

“Christ.. Fuckin' look at you..” Stiles groans, the pads of his fingers tracing over the ink on your skin.

You nearly shiver, goosebumps threatening to pebble along your skin in response to the gentle brush of his fingers across your ass. You make to ask him a question — to please just touch you where you want him, to tell you what he's drawn on your skin, to let you turn around so you can climb into his lap and devour him — but he's speaking again before you can form more than the garbled beginning of an ‘um-’.

“God, it is insane how hot that is,” Stiles grumbles as he dips down and his mouth finds the meat of your asscheek again, biting down softly this time and giving a small suck to the skin that has you nearly writhing, your fingernails scraping across the glossy pages of your textbook. His lips release you with a pop and his thumbs find the crease of your backside, spreading you and giving another little groan at the sight of your cunt shining with arousal. “Shit, I really was working you up, huh, baby? So fuckin' wet right now.”

“You've been groping me for the past thirty minutes,” Your assessment comes out a little breathless, an embarrassingly weak sounding thing, “What were you expec- ohh.. Ho-oh my-”

You're interrupted when he sinks a finger inside of you without preamble, pumping only twice before another joins the first and stretches you a little harder. It's an all-too easy glide, two of his long fingers pumping within your walls in smooth strokes with the aid of just how wet you truly are.

“Well shit, I'm sorry, babe,” Stiles says, genuine apology in his words that are dripping in an aroused sort of surprise, “Didn't mean to leave you hanging, and on our anniversary no less. If I'd known you were wound this tight I would've fucked you twenty minutes ago.”

The innocence in how he says it contrasts sharply with the actual filth spilling from his mouth and it has you reeling a bit, your ass pitching up and spine arching just a little to better the angle of his hand. You're so focused on the drag of his knuckles against your sensitive walls that you almost miss what he'd said beforehand.

“Wh-ah.. Wha'd you say?” You gasp, “Our annivers-uh!- 'versary?”

There's a sharp smack as he slaps the unmarked cheek of your rear, his lips pressing a quick kiss to soothe the warmed flesh before speaking, “Cannot believe you don't know that today marks six months since we started doing this-”

This, of course referring to the addictive situationship you've both found yourself in behind closed doors, in secret from the pack consisting of your friends and family, behind your brother's back.

“-You're gonna hurt my feelings, sweetheart, honestly.”

“Didn't.. Didn't realize.” You pant, a keening exclamation of ‘oh my god’ slipping past your lips when you feel Stiles push a third finger into your entrance, the stretch sending your eyes rolling back and your mouth dropping open with a keening whine.

“And to think,” Stiles starts slowly, his voice rumbling with clear arousal in his throat. There's a lewd squelch as his fingers drive in and out of your soaking cunt, a breathy moan punched out of your lungs when his fingers curl to reach that spot that makes your brain turn to mush. “To think I was gonna be so good t'you later. Was gonna let my girl ride my face for as long as she wanted, longer than she wanted probably, if we're bein' realistic-”

“Fuck..” His words have you moaning high and wrecked and unashamed. Stiles twists his fingers as he pulls them out and then thrusts back in, wide knuckles pulling a keening whine from you. “Please, fuck, Sti-”

“What's wrong baby? My fingers aren't good enough for you?” His voice is dripping with that teasing lilt that makes you weak in the knees. Right now, it makes you lift your hips from the mattress just a little bit more.

“So unfair-” You gasp.

“Unfair?” Stiles repeats in a slow drawl, “Baby, no offense but I'm the one rockin' a painfully neglected hard on right now,” His fingers push in to the third knuckle, his hand driving in so deep that it has a pleasurable ache building between your thighs. “Meanwhile, you've got three fingers stretching you out. Seems like you got it pretty good, to me. What more could you want, huh?”

His fingers are heaven, and he knows exactly how to use them, knows exactly where to aim and how hard and fast you like it, but you still need more. He's not touching you enough. His fingers in your cunt and his weight between your thighs isn't nearly enough to satisfy the need building up and twisting tight in your belly. You want his weight to crush you into the mattress, need his cock to give you that extra stretch that his fingers can't, need his sweat on your skin and his hands on your breasts-

“Please,” You whimper again, “Babe, please, c'mon, need you inside me.”

You probably should've been expecting the easy snark that spills from his mouth in response.

“I am inside you.” He replies all too smartly, repeatedly rubbing that tender spot on your inner wall until tears actually prickle at your eyes, a sharp sort of pleasure burning in your gut.

“Stiles.” You demand desperately.

Your pleading seems to finally break his resolve and his mouth finds the heated skin on the back of your thigh. He places a small kiss to the curve of your ass, then the dimples at the base of your spine. His lips make a slow trail up, small kisses left behind on his journey to the curve of your neck. Stiles pulls your hair to the side and leans in to taste your exposed skin, his fingers finally slipping from your cunt so that he can pull you up onto your knees, your back falling against his chest as you both sit up.

“Wha'd'you need, babe, huh?” Stiles murmurs the question over the shell of your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine as it fans out over your overheated skin, “You know I'll give you whatever you want.”

He holds you to his chest with one arm locked around your waist. His right hand leaves a scorching trail across your tummy on its way to your cunt, fingers dipping between your dripping folds and collecting a bit of your arousal before moving back up to circle your sensitive clit. The glide of his fingers is slick and intoxicating, a breathy gasp leaving your lips as your head falls back onto his shoulder.

“This all you wanted?” Stiles asks, voice a whisper against your skin, “Just wanted me to play with your clit? Is that all?”

You shake your head, brows furrowing and hips bucking into his touch.

“No?” He questions, lips finding the spot just behind your ear, “What'd'you need then, babe? You gotta tell me.”

One of your hands reaches back to grab the back of his thigh, fingers coming into contact with the soft material of his lounge pants as you tug his hips to yours. You can feel the length of his erection pressing into you through the thin layers of his clothing, his cock warm and stiff where it presses into the curve of your ass.

“Need.. Need you t'fuck me,” You pant, his fingers already so close to pulling an orgasm from you as he continues to play with your clit, “God, please, Stiles. I want you inside, please, please-”

“How 'bout you come for me and then I'll let you have it, huh?” He murmurs against your skin, his hips bucking forward into yours in a teasing thrust as the euphoric heat beneath your skin spreads further. “You're close, aren't you?”

A pathetic whimpered excuse of a ‘yes’ slips past your parted lips, your free hand reaching back as well to grab ahold of the back of his neck. Your grip is tight as your climax begins to crest, fingernails digging into the top of his spine as a wanton moan is forced from your throat.

“Just gimme one now and I promise I'll fuck another one outta you, okay? Come on-”

You come so hard that your legs give out, the arm Stiles still has curled around your waist forced to tighten to keep you against his chest, his bicep bulging as he supports your weight through the throes of your orgasm. His fingers slow against your clit as you come down before stopping all together, his slick hand sliding up to rub soft along your tummy as you pant in exertion.

He gives you a moment to recover, but you're still breathing heavily by the time he presses a kiss to your cheek and urges you down on all fours. You assume the position easily, resting on your elbows with your sweaty forehead stuck against the pages of the textbook still spread out on the bed. Stiles strips down as your heart rate struggles to slow, the mattress moving under his weight a few times before the warmth of his body settles behind you again.

“You good, baby?” He checks softly, one wide palm running up the length of your spine to rub at your shoulder.

“'m good, 'm good, just hurry up.” You plead, arching your back when his hand trails back down. His thumb and forefinger pinch your backside, an effective reminder of the ink he'd stained your skin with, “Never told me what you drew on my ass.” You laugh quietly, wiggling your hips in the hopes of enticing him into picking up the pace of things.

“Oh,” Stiles chuckles, thumbnail dragging over the ink as he grabs ahold of his cock and guides the head through your slick folds, “Wrote my name.”

Your responding laugh comes out in a breathy burst of air as he teases your entrance, pressing the tip in only to pull back and run it along the length of your wet cunt again.

“My.. My ass says ‘Stiles’?” You question through a body-wracking shudder when he teases his tip at your entrance again, pressing in just far enough for you to feel the stretch of his fat cock before he's pulling out all over again, the head bumping your swollen clit on the next pass through your folds.

“Stiles? No way, babe. I went full-name for this one. Mark-h.. ohh..” He stutters through his words the next time he presses in, letting the first couple of inches push into the tight heat of your cunt, “Marked my property accordingly n' all that.”

You swallow down a moan as the head of his cock drags against your sensitive walls, already fluttering around his length as your fingers fist the bedspread in a white-knuckled grip.

“Oh, fuck off,” You gasp in mild incredulity, “Your property?” You bite back, though the thought of the image admittedly prompts a swarm of butterflies in your tummy.

“Mhm,” Stiles hums a little breathlessly as his restraint wavers, pushing in another inch or so as his grip on your hip tightens, “Don't act like you don't think it's super hot. My name marked on your skin-”

“Shut up,” You scoff weakly, “I do not.. Don't think it's hot.”

“Sure, babe,” Stiles agrees condescendingly, “Wanna write yours on my ass after we're done? Equality n' all that.”

“Somehow, I'm not sure having McCall scrawled across your ass cheek is gonna have the same effect, even if it's got my name in front of it.” You manage before rocking your hips back to force more of his cock in.

“Fine, fine,” Stiles huffs, “But don't say I didn't offer-”

“God, will you just shut up and fuck me alread-”

You're effectively cut off when Stiles drives all the way in with a hard thrust, a loud moan tearing from your throat.

“Better?” Stiles asks, already breathing a little heavy as he sets a punishing pace, the sound of skin slapping skin with each smack of his hairy thighs against the smooth backs of your own.

“Yeah. Yeah, fuck, like that-” You cry out in whimpered praise, “Harder. Sti, please, need it, harder.”

His only response is a groan as he pounds into you with redoubled effort, the thick head of his cock hitting your cervix in a hard jolt with each thrust.

It doesn't take long for you to begin to fall apart all over again, Stiles' fingernails biting into the skin at your hips as he tugs you back down onto his cock again and again.

“Feel so fucking good.” Stiles groans as you fuck yourself back in time with his thrusts.

A gasp tears past your lips when he slips an arm underneath you and drags you up until your back is flush with his sweaty chest again, the angle of his cock changing just enough to have you letting out a drawn out moan.

Your thighs settle on either side of his as he continues to pound up into you and then his hand is finding your face, forcing your head to the side so that he can draw you into a heated kiss. Your hand ensnares his wrist to hold Stiles' in place on your jaw, his fingers pressing into the sensitive spot beneath your ear as your mouths work in a sloppy mess of tongues and teeth and hot breaths.

His sweat-slicked forehead drops against yours, his cock managing to hit all of the right places as his thrusts slow slightly, each one a slow drag against your sensitive walls.

“God, you.. You look so fuckin' pretty like this.” Stiles tells you with another lazy kiss to the corner of your mouth.

The white-hot flame in your gut has you trembling in his arms and you reach back to tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, the soft strands trapped in an iron-tight grip as your back arches, your own head falling back against the curve of his shoulder.

“Stiles-” You whimper desperately, fingers tightening impossibly further around his sweat-damp hair.

He pants into your mouth, each of his slow, deep thrusts prompting obscene sounds from the place where the two of you are joined.

“You close, babe?” He asks breathlessly as he tries to hold off his own steadily approaching end, “God, I need you t'come. Need more? Need me to touch you, baby?” He questions in a rasp, ever attentive and desperate to please you as he always is.

Before you can even respond, he's already switching the placement of his hands on your body so that he can drop his right one down to cup your heat. His big hand finds the wetness between your thighs, fingers zeroing in on your clit with the sort of effortless precision that can only come from months intimacy, from hours upon hours spent learning every inch of your body, studying your reactions to his touch with a hyper-focussed intensity that was just so Stiles.

You cry out at the feeling of his fingers rubbing you with practiced movements, his cock driving against that spot inside of you only a handful more times before you're bearing down on him, mind whiting out with the toe-curling euphoria that takes over your body. The shaky moans that Stiles pushes from your lips as he keeps fucking into you are something that you'd be horrified to hear come from your own mouth if you had the brain capacity to process them through the fog of your orgasm — but as it is, they tumble from your throat freely, your body trembling against the tight cocoon of Stiles' arms curled around your ribs as he supports your weight.

Your ears are only just beginning to hear sounds beyond the high-pitched ringing brought on by the strength of your climax when Stiles' thrusts begin to falter. The jerky slap of his hips against the backs of your thighs, his heavy breaths into the curve of your neck.

His fingers find where yours are still tangled in his hair and he tries to pry your grip away, “Baby, baby 'm gonna come,” Stiles moans in warning, “Wanna come on your ass. Please. Please, baby, I wanna-”

You pitch forward easily, dropping onto your elbows with shaking arms and arching your back enticingly for him. Stiles groans loud at the sight, the sound of it getting caught in his throat as he pulls out and begins to jerk his cock in earnest. Lewd, slick noises fill the room over the sounds of your labored breathing, the wetness that coats him aiding the smooth drag of skin on skin as he fucks into his fist with a gut twisting sort of desperation.

With a little wiggle of your hips, you encourage him despite still being a little breathless, “Come on, Sti, give it to me. Paint it right there on your name-”

“'m gonna,” He promises in a weak groan, the fingers of his free hand biting into the plush flesh at your hip with a bruising grip, “Gonna fuckin'.. Shit, 'm gonna put it right there. Gonna.. Gonna mark my girl up so.. So fucking good. Fuck.. Fuck, I love you. Loveyouloveyouloveyou, I'm, shit, 'm coming-”

Your mind is reeling a little bit in the wake of his lust-fueled admission, the dull beat of your heart echoing with his words as the warmth of his come meets your skin, dripping down the curve of your ass in thick ropes.

Stiles plasters himself to your back as he catches his breath, entirely uncaring of the mess of bodily fluids between you as lays down on the bed and pulls you into his chest. His breath falls against the sweat-slicked skin of your neck in warm puffs while his voice rings in your ears still — the memory of those words, the wrecked rasp of them slipping past his lips.

Loveyouloveyouloveyou.

I love you.

You twist around in his arms, late-afternoon sunlight coming in through his bedroom window displaying the pink flush that lingers on his mole-speckled cheeks. Your head drops against the pillow currently underneath his own while your knee pushes between his hairy thighs, brown eyes finding yours, Stiles' gaze soft and sated.

“I love you too.” You whisper through the nerves twisting in your stomach.

A wide array of emotions flicker across his face, initial confusion quickly melting away into a relieved sort of surprise.

“Holy shit,” Stiles breathes, wide palm coming up to cover your jaw. His thumb swipes the apple of your cheek with smooth strokes and his eyes flick quick between yours, his lips pulling into a grin that dimples cutely in his cheek, “I can't believe I- Shit. No, I do though, I.. I love you.”

“I love you.” You repeat in a daze, fingertips tracing idle circles through the dark patch of hair at the center of his chest.

“Does that mean you're gonna let me do this again when my name eventually washes off?” He asks with a mischievous little grin that makes your insides twist warmly, his brows jumping up his forehead playfully.

“You're an annoyingly territorial little shit, y'know that?” You laugh softly before your brows are drawing together in slow confusion, “Wait. Wha'd'you mean eventually? Why'd you say it like that?”

“Well, y'know, I used a sharpie, so-”

“You used a permanent marker?” You repeat incredulously, pinching his skin between your thumb and forefinger a little meanly as your nose scrunches up, “Such a dickhead.”

Stiles gives you a grin that spreads wide across his face until you can see those very same perfectly straight teeth that have left bruising love bites into the soft flesh on your backside. He dips his head and his lips find yours, the salty tang of the sweat clinging to his upper lip meeting your tongue as he speaks into your mouth with easy confidence.

“You're totally gonna let me do it again.”

And well.. He's probably not wrong.

𝐚𝐧; 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧.. 𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬.. 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡. 🥴

𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲! 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭!!

REBLOGS are so important.

please have the curtesy to reblog to share/save your fave fics.

[finniestoncrane]

Practice Makes Perfect

KTJL!Boomer, word count: 1.1k hng losing my little mind over the idea of digger practicing sucking himself off (because what else is there to do in prison?) 💙 also I fucked up the banner let me live sorryyyy request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: mentions of porn, masturbation, i made him disgusting because it's what i want ok tell me he wouldn't aim his load AND ALSO he's a fuckin goober like hc-ing it now digger talks to his penis, cum play, swallowing, self-fellating aheem heem and maybe if everyone is good and anyone wants it, we get a part 2 where he achieves his goal

George rolled over in his metal frame bed, thin mattress offering no support as he lay on his back. It was dark, around 3am he figured, and despite how hard he was trying he knew there was no way he was going to get back to sleep.

"Well, might as well indulge."

His voice sounded strange as it bounced off the walls of his cell, but there was a comfort in it, in the lack of response, in the emptiness. Being locked up was boring, it could be dull, isolating, and it drove him insane sometimes. But, if nothing else, it meant he had plenty of time alone to do one of the simple pleasures he enjoyed.

Reaching under the bed, at the side closest to the wall, he retrieved his stash of contraband. Everyone knew he had it, everyone knew it was better if he did. He could be, as he so politely put it, "a right miserable cunt" if he didn't have his release regularly. With his fingers clinging to the slightly crinkled pages, he teased the magazine up above the mattress and pulled it over to his chest, where he bagan to flick through the slightly stained pages.

With a bored sigh, he pushed down the band of his orange prison issue pants and began lazily stroking his cock, letting it go from soft to semi-erect in his hand. A shower, not necessarily a grower, but there was plenty of him to get a grip on either way. The featherlight touch he gave to the tip when his strokes reached his head made him shiver, a crooked, self-satisfied grin spreading over his face, pushing into his lightly freckled cheeks.

Skimming through the pages clumsily with one hand, he tried to find one he wanted to settle on. They all felt used though, old news, the same bodies he'd been jerking off to for months now. He needed some new material, something different, something a little bit exciting just to change things up.

Not that he had any difficulty in getting to where he needed to go regardless. Within minutes his fist was pumping along his length faster, gripping the shaft tighter than was comfortable, releasing the tension when it felt too much to give himself that feeling of respite that made his chest feel lighter.

Predictably, he could feel himself reaching the climax of his practiced labours pretty quickly, and with a lopsided smile he held his cock up straight. Each stroke was slow and the grip was strong now, easing up the shaft as though he were squeezing his release out.

"C'mon... c'mon... ah, fuck, c'mon!"

This was now the somewhere close to the tenth time he'd been aiming for the ceiling, hoping his load was explosive enough to reach it. It felt like a challenge now, something he couldn't not try. It did, however, lead to a lot of mess. Not necessarily much clean up, but definitely a lot of mess.

Looking down at his bare chest, George swiped at the droplets and strands of cum that decorated his torso. Not quite to the ceiling, but he was sure some of it had landed on his face, close to his lips. A quick investigation with his tongue proved him correct, as he tasted the sickly, salted flavour on his tongue.

"It's not even that bad."

He reached down, swiping up some of the splatter on his finger. He held it in the air, tapping his thumb to it and watching the viscous, white substance spread between them. Then he shrugged, popping it into his mouth. As if he were some kind of deranged sommelier, he shifted it from cheek to cheek, letting it rest on his tongue before he swallowed.

"Yeah! Not bad at all. Gotta start advertising that, just in case it helps convince anyone to give the little fella a suck."

Then it hit him. He couldn't believe he had forgotten about the last project he had been working on. He'd gotten distracted by the repetitive strain injury he'd given himself in his ribs, but that pain had subsided, which meant he could continue.

"Aw yeah! I was gonna suck it!"

George excitedly sat up in the bed, legs crossed, cock still semi-erect. He wondered if that was better or worse, and settled on it being the perfect state. Not too stiff, bit of stretch to it. Focusing on the tip of his cock, he took in a few deep breaths, soothing, focusing. Then he sat up completely straight, letting his spine elongate before he bent it quickly into an almost perfect arch.

And he was still a bit away from his goal.

"Shit."

He pushed his neck out, groaning with the strain, his tongue sticking out over his lips as far as he could get it.

"Just... a little... closer..."

The past injury, the one he thought had healed, began to twinge again. His entire side felt solid, like the tendons connecting the muscles might snap at any second. But he was determined.

"Come on you little cunt..."

One final urge, and a blatant disregard for his physical wellbeing, was all it took, as the tip of his tongue ran along the head of his cock. It was the briefest of connections, only managing to taste the slightest amount of salt from the his slit. But it was something.

"Holy shit!"

His body almost sprang back into a natural position as he let himself relax, a reward for his efforts and his success.

"Ah, Digger! You dirty fuckin' bogan! Well done, mate!"

He was close to patting himself on the back, but he realised the stretch might inadvertently cause further strain, and now that he was back on track with his self-satisfactory plans he didn't want to cause any further interruptions. Just a few more months of this and he'd maybe be able to get the tip in his mouth. For the first time, he was glad he had a long sentence ahead of him.

Smiling down at his own cock, ever pleased with the work they put in together as partners, he spoke out loud.

"There'll be some disappointed Sheila's when they find out I don't need them anymore. Disappointed fellas too, I reckon."

He nodded wistfully, well aware in the back of his mind that there weren't too many offers to begin with, but a little delusion never hurt anyone.

[jo-harrington]

Team Building (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: No one does Halloween quite like the Hellfire Club, and you just so happened to have promised to join them.

Previous Part: Closing Time

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. Mutual Pining and Slow Burn, Fluffy Fluff, Trick or Treating

Note: HAPPY HALLOWEEN and welcome back to the Store Manager Verse. I actually wanted to be further along with my chronological releases but it just never happened. This one is definitely probably one of the best timed releases with the holiday but there's a minor note that there's...maybe a reference to a yet-to-be published installation of the story. Eddie and SM are gonna be going on a little road trip at some point and will meet some of SM's family. DONT EVEN WORRY ABOUT IT FOR NOW. Just enjoy the shenanigans.

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

"You look cute today."

"Thanks!"

"You need to look less cute next week. We're doing zombies, remember?"

"Got it."

Every day.

"Did you pick up that fake blood from Melvalds like you promised?"

"Yeah it's at home."

"Ok great because...because I was a little afraid you were gonna forget about our plans."

"Don't worry Eddie."

He reminded you every day.

"Ok so we're meeting at Gareth's at 4 on Thursday."

"Alright I'll be there."

"No, uh, glitter makeup? We're going for realism. Shock and awe."

"I swear to god!"

Every day for an entire week, whether he was scheduled to work or not, Eddie showed up at Star Court to remind you that you had promised to go Trick or Treating with him and his friends.

It was cute endearing.

October--and more specifically Halloween--was one of your favorite times of the year at work. It was laid back and fun. No pressure from either Back to School or the Holiday rush, you could "dress up" with little costume pieces or fun makeup every day, and you could have a bowl of candy at the cash wrap that made everyone's day a little bit brighter.

And outside of work, you'd really embraced the season.

Correction, Eddie made you embrace the season.

Before moving to Hawkins, Halloween had always been incredibly...commercial. Costumes and decorations from the little seasonal aisle at the drugstore. The biggest display of candy at the grocery store that you needed to stock up on unless you wanted your house egged.

And your social life consisted, mainly, of outings with your coworkers. Pumpkin patches and haunted hayrides almost always became team building activities. That wasn't to say your coworkers--new and old--weren't your friends too.

But with Eddie...it was different.

A harvest festival outside of Muncie, horror movies late at night during a thunderstorm, warm apple cider at Merrill's Farm while looking for gourds that were shaped like your heads. Pumpkin carving on the porch at the trailer, cutting out bats and cats from black construction paper, and now Trick or Treating with his friends.

You thought, early on in your friendship, that it was just some throw away comment. But knowing him as well as you did now, you realized that he really meant everything he said.

Every promise was purposeful, especially when it came to the people he cared about. Which was why you were sure he was determined to make the night perfect. Not only for you, but for everyone.

Especially the handful of little sheep that were newcomers to Hellfire.

"The freshman," he explained on Sunday as you worked on your costumes together. "They're little turds but...I dunno, they have potential."

You'd already heard about them at the beginning of the year as Eddie gushed about his new recruits; younger brothers that Eddie sort of always wished for but was thankful he didn't actually have.

"They're not gonna think I'm some like...weird old person right?" you laughed self-consciously, thinking back to Jeff's comment when you said you wouldn't buy them beer. And sure you were not that much older than Eddie, but you were sure you were ancient to a bunch of 14-year olds.

"You're the coolest person I know. And I'm the coolest person they know."

"You saw how my brother is though," you waved your hand dismissively. Jimmy's words--who would have guessed your boyfriend's not lame like you--wouldn't stop echoing in your head though.

Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend.

Eddie still wasn't your boyfriend.

They must have echoed in Eddie's too because his cheeks flushed and he immediately became bashful. He ducked his head into his shoulder a little bit and refused to meet your eyes as he hacked away at the sleeves of the old flannel in his hands.

"Your brother," he finally replied, "is a little turd too. I'm sure the kids will worship you. More than they worship me. I promise. Everything will be alright."

---

Before you knew it, Thursday rolled around.

You were running late to get to the Emerson's to get ready thanks to a last minute visit from your DM. Who knew that pictures of you and your team for the company-issued costume contest would take so long?

Still, to save time, you decided not to change costumes until you got to the house. Seeing as Eddie had grand plans for everyone's face paint to make them look as close to Day of the Dead as possible, you figured you would be fine.

However, you were not expecting the entire gaggle of boys to stare at you with stars in their eyes as you stepped out of your car, duffle bag full of torn old clothes and gallon of fake blood in-hand, done up like a glam metal superstar.

Or as close to it as you could get with the accessories you carried at the store. Rainbow hair extensions and glitter spray, layers of chain jewelry, and too much cheetah print.

"You," Eddie began as he pushed through the group to get to you. His face was already a ghastly pallor thanks to a layer of facepaint from melvalds, exactly as he had envisioned. "Are a traitor and a turncoat, a disgrace to the uniform, and your status as Corroded Coffin's number one fan."

"I've literally never heard you guys play," you rolled your eyes at him.

"Did my lesson about the different types of metal mean nothing to you?" he clutched a hand over his heart and then reached out and fiddled with your jewelry. "And didn't I say no glitter."

"I just need to use the bathroom to wash it all off. Then you can make me gross and moldy like you."

"It's not mold. It's rot. Get it right." You flipped him off and he grinned. "Hey sweetheart."

"Hi."

"Nice of you to finally join us."

Eddie threw an arm around your shoulders and led you into the garage. You said hi to Jeff, Gareth, and Dave, and then he introduced you to the sheep.

Mike and Lucas and Dustin and Will.

They were all a little bashful as Eddie went down the line; it was reminiscent of when you met the others, except less fun facts and more silly tidbits meant to embarrass the kids.

Will the Wise whose worst stat was intelligence. Dustin who had a girlfriend in Utah--

"She's real, I swear."

--Mike who had already gone through two new characters because he couldn't roll to save his life. Literally. And Lucas who liked sports.

"Oh my god," you scoffed at Eddie. “You make it sound like sports are a scourge."

"They are."

"You like hockey."

"I," Eddie paused. "Tolerate hockey."

You grinned triumphantly and said hello to each of the boys before ducking into the house to get changed.

"Dude, she is way out of your league." you could hear Mike whine, followed by a dull thud of a fist hitting an arm.

"That's what we've been telling him the whole time," Dave cackled.

---

Eddie and Will were the masterminds behind the zombification process--bickering back and forth about what scar went where and how gross that pus should look as they applied facepaint--but all the boys tossed in their creative input.

"Oh my god, do you still have that rubber eyeball from lunch? We can glue it to Jeff's hand."

"What if--don't touch my hair--what if we--don't touch my hair."

"More blood! More! MORE!"

Before you knew it, two hours had passed, it was dark out and gaggles of Trick-or-Treaters were already filling the streets. Gareth's mom had set herself up on the porch with a bowl full of fun-sized candy and wished you all farewell as you took off down the sidewalk.

A veritable hoard of the undead, with ripped clothes, foaming mouths, blood-soaked hands, and pillowcases to double as treat bags.

To your surprise, there was a lot more to Trick or Treating than you had initially thought. All your childhood, you'd just gone door to door for a few blocks, rang a bell, got some candy, and at the end of the night traded treats with your brothers or your friends.

To Hellfire, it was just as involved as any of their DnD campaigns. And it's how you learned more about each of the boys, and surprisingly, more about their fearless leader.

Lucas and Mike were the perfect strategists and, as you began your trek, listed off neighborhoods that gave the best candy. You got the in-depth analysis between full-size and fun-size candies, chocolate versus peanut butter versus nougat, and you made a mental note to be more mindful of the choices you put out at the cash wrap for next year.

Dustin and Eddie were the navigators mentally mapping the distances between each neighborhood and how quickly and efficiently the group could get around.

"We should have just taken the van," Eddie scoffed when Dustin suggested Loch Nora first, the furthest trek of the night.

"No, then we'll end up back at Gareth's by 10. We just need to walk fast, it'll be perfect."

"And my mom is making a casserole for dinner," Gareth piped up. "She said you're all welcome to stay."

"Why don't we end at my place," Mike suggested. "We can just hang out in the basement and my mom will order pizza."

"No one wants to sleep in your dusty ass basement Wheeler," Dave scoffed.

"We're definitely skipping school tomorrow," Eddie pointed at all of the kids. "I hope you all know that."

Dave and Jeff, much to your surprise, were the "war generals" as they so graciously called themselves. They had a few rolls of toilet paper and a carton of eggs tucked away in their pillowcases, in case they came across--

"The enemies!!!" The older boys hollered into the starry night sky, quickly earning glares from other kids and parents as they passed.

"And who would that be?" you asked. The entire group looked at you like you'd grown a second head. "I'm sorry I'm not well-versed in Halloween mischief."

"Oh it's gonna be fun corrupting you." Eddie laughed wickedly, and started ticking off examples on his fingers. "People who tell us we're too old to trick or treat."

"I thought you said no one cared!" you exclaimed.

"Most people," he clarified, "don't care. But someone called the cops on us. What was it? Last year? Year before?" He looked at the older boys for confirmation.

"Mrs. Peterson who likes to sic her dogs on the kids who get too close to her rose bushes," Lucas offered next.

"If someone has their porch light on, but doesn't answer the door."

"When someone gives raisins instead of candy," Will supplied, ignoring Dustin's quiet, I like raisins.

The list went on: people who made fun of their costumes, the one house where the guy sat on his porch and douse kids with "holy water" for engaging in devilry.

"And Jason Carver," Eddie finished with a flourish.

They all looked at you for some kind of objection...or maybe your approval? You weren't too sure.

But at your soft nod, they all whooped and hollered and a few of the younger boys even took off running so they could jump and scare some of the kids who were just minding their own business.

"See?" Eddie asked and grabbed your hand in his as you followed at the back of the group. "And you were afraid they were gonna think you were some gross old lady. They're trying to impress you."

"Impress is a stretch."

"Ah ah ah," he shook his head. "I will hear none of it. I told them all that they were to be on their best worst behavior. Make sure you have the best time. That they are mere peasants here to serve the Queen of the Undead."

You let his hand go and pushed him away from you, even though your heart beat a little faster knowing he wanted them to behave around you.

"Go before I gnaw on your brains."

"You promise?" he waggled his eyebrows at you suggestively.

"Go!"

---

It was an eventful night.

You moaned and groaned and shuffled your way across Hawkins, just like the zombies in Romero's movies, to get all sorts of sweet treats. Candy and popcorn and fresh-dipped caramel apples that someone was making in their yard in Loch Nora.

The group successfully TP'd one house, and you'd even personally egged someone's front door after they called the gang delinquents. You were not athletic in the slightest, but you hit your target dead on, and basked in the boy's gleeful war cries.

You were grateful for Eddie's suggestion of sneakers because you'd walked more in those 4 hours than you had during any Black Friday or Christmas Eve double shift in your entire career. You were sure even a day at Disneyland couldn't hold a candle to the Hellfire Club Whistle Stop Walking Candy Tour of Hawkins.

The boys all took to calling you mom pretty early in the night after you stopped Jeff from chomping into a handful of starbursts.

"Your braces," you reminded him, motioning to your teeth. "You're gonna snap a wire; you hate the orthodontist."

He groaned and all of the boys started snickering. Eddie, of course, was quick to shame him.

"Listen to your mother!"

And the nickname just stuck.

Of course Mike--who you noticed tried to emulate Eddie most out of the group of freshman--had a retort.

"If she's mom," he said smugly. "Does that mean you're dad?"

The boys all started making kissy faces and you had to laugh as Eddie got a little flustered.

After watching him flounder for a comeback, you decided to help him out, so you crossed the distance and pressed a quick peck to his cheek before you turned and shook your finger at the boys in a disappointed way.

"Next person to sass your father," you started. "And you're all grounded." They all looked a mixture of confused and worried for a second.

"What does that mean?" Lucas asked nervously.

"It means you start the next session with half of your hit points," Eddie finally recovered, voice growling in a threat. The boys all clammed up and turned to head to the next house.

"Sorry about them," he shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Nah, it's ok," you smiled reassuringly. "They meant well. Still...til death do us part, I guess."

You both froze and you started panicking.

Why had you said that?

Still, Eddie was able to make it all better. He shuffled his feet and cracked a smile, then gestured to your costumes.

"Or uh...undeath. Considering."

Still, you had butterflies in your stomach every time one of the boys called you mom and dad for the rest of the night.

---

By the time 10 rolled around, you were back at the Emerson's house. Gareth's mom greeted you all excitedly with sodas and plates of hot buffalo chicken casserole with crispy tater tots on top, and you all sat in the garage to eat and divvy up your haul.

"So," Eddie slumped on the sofa next to you at some point after dinner was finished. You were tiredly watching Lucas and Dave argue the merits of Three Musketeers versus Milky Way and glad for the distraction. "Did you have fun?"

"Of course."

"Enough to do it again next year?"

"Is this your way of telling me you guys trick or treat every year?" you joked. "Because I kind of picked up on those hints all night."

"More like...I don't know," he sniffed awkwardly. "You still planning to be my friend next year?"

"Stop asking me that," you hit the back of your hand against his chest. "If I got to see you be a big dork with your gaggle of kindergarteners--"

"Hey!" came Will and Mike's whine from a few feet away.

"--and I'm still here, nothing's gonna scare me away Eddie."

He grabbed your hand to stop you from hitting him again, but stayed silent for a moment, eyes darting back and forth between yours as his tongue worried his lip.

You got nervous the longer he hesitated to say something, and once he did, you had the sneaking suspicion it wasn't exactly what he'd really wanted to say in the first place.

You hoped it wasn't what he wanted to say. Hoped it was just something he couldn't say in front of his friends.

"Then you don't mind if we do Alien next year. And before you say anything, I think I would make a great Ripley. I already have the hair for it and I'm pretty sure I have that same underwear."

"Sure Eddie," you agreed a little stiffly. "Sounds perfect."

He smiled, but it didn't quite meet his eyes.

Still, the two of you stayed huddled together on that couch for the rest of the night, surrounded by friends.

Hands held comfortably together.

Next Part: Promotion

[justagalwhowrites]

Proof of Life

You and Joel find solace in each other in the QZ.

Pairing: Darkish!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut! Rough sex. Reader has skin that visibly reddens and bruises. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only.

Length: 2.6k

Joel liked the way you bruised for him. 

It was a thought that should bother him, he knew. That he liked how your skin darkened where he touched you, the marks violent and lasting. Proof of life. Proof that you were alive enough that you could bleed beneath your skin, proof that he existed enough to do damage to something. It was the only time he really thought he was alive anymore, when he was inside you. When he was hurting you. 

“More,” you panted, nails digging into his thighs so hard he thought you must be drawing blood. But that was fine. He liked that, too. 

He pulled out of you, his cock slick with you, and your body - just taut and strained - went limp, an almost pouty look on your face. He grabbed your chin roughly, callused fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your cheeks and your eyes met his. Daring him. Pushing him. 

“Think I won’t give you what you want?” He was breathless, too, putting his face right by yours. But not to kiss you. You never kissed, not really, never did anything with your mouths that didn’t involve teeth. He took your lower lip in his mouth and pulled, biting down until the coppery taste of your blood fell on his tongue. He swallowed it, the essence of you pulled into him. He liked that, too. “What you need?” 

Your skin was reddening under his grip, spots that he knew would be dark in the morning. Maybe violent purple or black, the beginnings of the bruise pushing him on, making him desperate. 

Or maybe rabid was a better term. He was an animal with you, not really able to occupy the realm of human men now. He was other. Most often, he was hollow, just a ghost moving through the world. You, at least, awakened something inside him. Proved there was something there to wake up at all. 

He released your jaw, moving quickly to flip you onto your front before sharply grabbing your hips - the yellowing bruises from his thumbs the last time he had you somehow making him harder - and slamming into your dripping slit. You gasped and arched into it, Joel bottoming out in you and grinding hard against the back of you. It hurt. He knew it did. He could tell by the way your body shuddered, the instinct to pull back that you had to correct, the brief recoil before you pressed your ass back against him and he held your hips, his fingers over the bruises from before, watching them redden as he fucked you hard, rough, forcing the air from you with every thrust. 

It had always been this way with you, even the first time. 

Joel had met you on the way to Boston, run into you on the road with Tommy about five days walk from the city. He recognized you immediately. 

Not that he knew you. He’d never seen you before in his life. You were from somewhere near D.C. if he had to hazard a guess - you’d never told him in the years you’d been fucking - and were bloody and dirty and holding an axe in your grip like it was a lifeline. 

But he recognized you. The eyes of another dead thing, someone who had lived through the great horror of some utter hell, something that didn’t destroy you, not really, it did something far worse. It made you into something you didn’t know and couldn’t understand, even from within. Who you were before wasn’t destroyed so much as fled, a refugee from the space you now occupied. There was no rubble, no signs left that you’d been there at all. Instead, there was nothing. 

Joel recognized you in that way. Knew that you saw yourself looking back through him, too. 

The three of you made it to the QZ together and you gave Joel and Tommy a stiff nod after you were processed and left without a word. 

He was almost surprised to see you again, months later, getting drunk at the speakeasy. It seemed like you wouldn’t still be here, that maybe you were something that hadn’t really existed at all. 

But when Tommy left Joel alone to go flirt with a pretty girl he spotted from across the bar, you came over, shitty whiskey in hand. 

“Miller,” you said, climbing on the stool next to him. He grunted in response. “You look particularly miserable.” 

“Don’t think anyone here’s exactly happy,” he said, taking a sip of liquor. 

You laughed once, darkly. 

“They are,” you said, nodding to people talking and laughing and swaying to the music from the old jukebox in the corner. 

“Fuckin’ idiots,” Joel muttered. 

“Lucky idiots,” you countered, lighting a cigarette. 

“Those things kill you, you know,” Joel said wryly. 

“Counting on it,” you replied, taking a long drag before holding it out to him. He took it and took a pull himself. You smiled a little. “I’m too much of a chicken shit to use a gun. Hoping something else will get me sooner rather than later. These are my insurance policy.” 

Joel nodded slowly, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before exhaling. He gave the cigarette back. 

“Can’t say I blame you,” he said. 

“Figured you’d get it,” you replied. “Birds of a feather, all that.” 

“Least you know you’re a chicken shit,” he said, taking a drink. “I was stupid enough to try it and fail.” 

He wasn’t entirely sure why he told you. He’d never told anyone else. Maybe because he knew you’d understand it. It didn’t feel like a shameful secret with you, it felt more like talking about a tornado he’d seen once, standing and watching the destruction knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it. 

“Seems like that’s less being a chicken shit and more being a shit aim,” you said, a teasing edge to your voice, taking another drag before holding the cigarette out again. He took it. 

“Aim was fine,” he said. “Flinched.” 

“Ah,” you nodded knowingly. “Then welcome to the club of those who wish they were dead but are too afraid to do anything real about it. Membership fee isn’t bad. We have jackets.” 

He laughed a little and gave you the cigarette back again. 

“Doing anything later?” You asked. 

“Nothing worth doing,” he replied. 

“Think I’m worth doing?” 

He looked over at you, at those flat, dead eyes. 

You would be pretty, he thought, if he was capable of really feeling that. About his age, he was pretty sure, with lips he’d have wanted to kiss once upon a time, tits he’d have wanted to hold. 

He hadn’t been laid in a while. He could use a fuck. 

“Think so.” 

You nodded and finished the cigarette, stamping it out on the table top before downing the rest of your drink. You dropped the still smoking butt into your cup. 

“Your place or mine?” 

The two of you went to his apartment and you pulled your shirt over your head as soon as the door to his room was shut, casting it aside. His eyes ranged over you, the scars on your skin, your nipples pebbled and hard. Your gaze held his - closer to alive than he’d ever seen you - and you stepped out of your boots before pulling down your pants and underwear, bearing yourself to him like some kind of offering. He got undressed, too, watching as your fingers twitched, like you were resisting the urge to touch yourself. You got on the bed and let your knees fall open and he crawled between them, a finger tracing delicately over your slit as he leaned in to kiss you. 

But you pulled back, frowning, brows drawn low. 

“What are you doing?” You asked. 

“Thought we were fucking,” he said, confused. 

“Right,” you said. “I want you to fuck me, Joel. Hard. I want you to make it fucking hurt. You think I’m here for some gentle lay? That I’d seek you out if that’s what I was after? No, no, you’re dead like me and I need something that can hurt like me. So hurt me, Joel.” 

He was hesitant at first. He’d never done something like this. Not that he’d ever felt like he was the love making type - never fucked someone he was in love with enough to find out - but he liked to leave his women satisfied and well fucked, not beaten and bloody. 

But something in him he didn’t even know was still there awoke at that thought, the thought of giving someone something they needed. The thought of doing something that he could see and feel unlike everything else in this Godforsaken place. Didn’t matter how many bodies he burned, there were always more waiting. Always more to trudge through, more to try to survive when he didn’t even want to do that. 

This was different. You were different. 

He spread your legs wider and lined himself up with your entrance, acutely aware of his size and strength for the first time in years. How easy it would be for him to break you, to hurt you beyond the hurt you were asking for. He was, suddenly, brutally substantial and corporeal. 

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, taking your waist in his hands and digging harshly into the softness there. 

You laughed darkly. 

“Sure, Joel.” 

He still remembered the look on your face when he fucked into you, hard and fast, for the first time, forcing your walls apart, the rough grip of your cunt around him. You weren’t wet enough to take him properly yet, he knew it had to hurt. The kind of hurt you’d asked him for. But there was life in your eyes as you gasped, your back arching. You were alive, buried deep somewhere inside yourself, and Joel was forcing that life to the surface of you. He had that power. The power to force you to feel.

You’d never asked him for mercy, never asked him for a break or even to slow down, not once in the years the two of you had been doing this. You took what he gave you into yourself, took all his hate and his rage and his numbness until there was nothing left but you and the small hurts he peppered over your skin. 

Joel wrapped his fist around your hair and pulled, yanking your head back with a surprised little yelp. His other hand went to your back, forcing you into a deeper arch so his cock was slamming into your cervix. You liked it when he made you hurt inside, too. He found it in the strange satisfaction on your face when you moved the next morning after he fucked you again, the new bruises darkening on your skin as you got dressed, the involuntary wince when you walked the first few steps setting off a perverse sense of pride in him. 

He’d given you what you needed and you were the proof of it. Proof he was alive enough to break someone if he wanted to. 

“Fuck,” you panted, your pussy tightening around him. “More, Joel, fuck, please…” 

“More?” He managed, voice strained. “You want more?” 

“Please,” you sounded on the verge of tears but your pussy got tighter. “Need it, need it so much.” 

He yanked on your hair again, pulling your body to be sitting up, your back pressed flush against his front. One of his hands roughly grabbed a fistful of tit flesh and squeezed until your soft breast wouldn’t give anymore. The other flew to your throat, gripping the column of it tight, your head dropping back to his shoulder. He bit at your jaw as you whimpered and moaned, his hold on you getting tighter as he fucked up into you. 

“This what you needed?” He panted, desperate, his orgasm close. “What you wanted?” 

You struggled to nod and he pushed, sharp and hard and deep, into you as he felt you start to come around him and go limp. He came apart then, too, spilling against the spot he bruised inside you again and again. He loosened his hold on you as his orgasm eased and he felt you take a shaky, gasping breath against him before he lowered you to the bed and collapsed beside you. 

He watched as you came back into yourself, breaths easing, the hollow look coming back into your eyes. The ghost in his bed. But the beginnings of the bruises remained, the marks of him over your hips and breasts and waist and neck and legs and face. You’d be black and blue by morning. 

You sat up and Joel frowned as you started getting dressed. You always stayed after, always slept next to him so he could fuck you again in the morning, pressing his fingers back into the places on you that had gone from red to purple in the night. 

“Where you goin’?” He sat up on his elbows, watching you. 

“I’m leaving in the morning,” you said, looking down at your shirt as you buttoned it. 

“What?” He sat up all the way now, his stomach clenched tight. “What do you mean you’re leaving, where the fuck are you gonna go?” 

You shrugged. 

“Somewhere else,” you said. “Somewhere that isn’t here.” 

“Why?” He asked. “There someone you’re lookin’ for out there or…” 

“Joel,” you smiled a little at him and it actually reached your eyes, just a hint of the life he’d fucked to the surface left in them. “You don’t ask about what killed me, I don’t ask about what killed you. That’s the deal.” 

“The deal is we fuck each other to get by,” he snapped. “The deal ain’t you goin’ off on some goddamn suicide mission for…” 

“I’m not looking for anyone,” you said, voice oddly gentle. “I’m just looking for something better than here. There has to be something out there. This can’t be it, feeling this… I can’t live where I’m only alive in your bed anymore, I need more than that. I need to find something that will keep me alive or something that will kill me and I don’t really care which. Just need to find it.” 

The irony wasn’t lost on him. That you leaving to feel alive was making him feel more alive than he had in years. The fear was sharp and gripping, its hold desperate and aching. 

“I’ll come with you,” he began but you cut him off, tugging on your shoes. 

“No, you won’t,” you said, coming around to his side of the bed and sitting beside him. “I don’t know what killed you, Joel, I just know that it was something terrible. But I know you’re not as dead as me, not really. I’ve seen it. You can find shit to live for and you should. Live for Tommy for now. Find the other things later. It’s still inside you somewhere. That’s why you flinched. Don’t give up on it.” 

You kissed him then. A real, actual kiss, your hand on his face, your lips soft on his. There was nothing fierce or stinging to it, all soft and earnest tenderness. You smiled at him, almost sadly, when you pulled away and went for the door. 

“Take care of yourself, Joel.”

You left him there, staring at the void you’d left, with nothing but the memory of you and his bruises on your skin.  

A/N: My first (maybe only!) foray into a darker Joel. He gave me brain rot this weekend so I'm glad he's on the page. I hope you like it and thank you for reading! Love you!!

[chanlix-honey]

The Attention You Deserve (I.N.)

WARNING: smut (+18), pet names, daddy kink, fingering, choking, crying, jeongin being a tease and we’re here for it, (light) degrading,,,meaning MINORS DNI!! Please and thank you!!!

word count: 1.6k

a/n: HAPPY ROCK-STAR DAY EVERYONE!!! In honor of the new album release, I have decided to post the full one shot I teased a few days ago. This is my first skz smut post!! Pls be gentle!

Read at your own risk! Again, minors DNI. Enjoy!

“Let’s play a game, hm?” he pulls off the blanket that’s covering your sex, and your pleasured smell pulsates the room. “Since you wanted to be a bad girl, daddy’s going to correct this for you.” He brings your soaked hands to his mouth to lick the pleasure off of you. “I’m going to give you the night of your life. Maybe even the best. And you’re not going to cum once.” He tugs at your shirt, asking you to take it off. You do so obediently. “Good girl.” He plunges two of his fingers into your wet cunt.

“You obey me—and quickly—daddy rewards you. If you don’t listen..well,” You moan, the length of his fingers not giving you any let up. “I’m thinking of fucking you until I cum. How does that sound my dumb baby?” He chuckles, giving you a sly smile.

You couldn’t help yourself. Jeongin has been coming home from work later and later these days. He does his best to let you know that he and the boys won’t be done for some time, but he is an idol after all. He always has something to do. If it’s not vocals with his teacher and Seungmin, it’s practice with Danceracha, or executing lyrics with Channie-hyung (his favorite nickname for Bangchan, that he has passed down to you. Though he doesn’t like telling him in person).

When you text him throughout the day how excited you are for movie night, he can’t help but feel bad to try and remember the last time you and him spent time together. This would be good to get some of that quality time that you were both missing. And to treat you deliciously tonight. He misses your moans and your pussy, so he hopes to make up for it too. He feels his cock twitch at the thought of being coated in your juices and filling you up. He shakes the thought away to make sure he’s not sporting a hard-on before he goes back to Minho leading practice and replies to you. Be sure to wear that purple lace for Daddy tonight, I want to treat you to dessert…be a good girl and wait for me until I get home to give you the attention you deserve.

And tonight isn’t any different. You order pizza for the two of you once he texts you that he’ll be home in an hour—in hopes that the cheesy dinner arrives just as he does. By the time he comes home, he’s too tired for the weekly rom-com-roasting movie night that you and him had planned. He greets you with a good evening forehead kiss and lets you know that he’s going to take a little nap before you get the movie queued up. You smile at his sweet gesture, but can’t help to notice that your heart pangs at the kiss, disappointed that his lips missed yours.

Thirty minutes pass by. Then an hour. You continue to stare at your phone, as the screen is the only thing illuminating the room. You turned off the tv fifteen minutes ago. The barely-eaten pizza stares at you, as the box is only slightly open. You dejectedly scroll through TikTok, skipping fan edits of your boyfriend performing on the multitude of stages all over the world. You skip all, except one. A fan edit of his teasing lip-licking moments on stage, and the pit of your stomach feels engulfed by the flames of arousal. You let the video play once. Twice. Three times. Before you know it, your fingers are rubbing your clit to the ever-playing fan edit, desperately wishing your hand was his mouth and that teasing tongue.

“Ah, ah, daddy~” you mumble. You wouldn’t dare wake him up with your lewd sounds. Last time you made a mistake—let’s just say you couldn’t get out of bed the next day and a half.

Yet, your voice fails you and you squeak when you accidently pinch your clit, and your body shivers. You choke at your clumsiness and tears roll off your cheeks. Daddy-! You tremble, just about to cum.

Consumed in your pleasure, you don’t hear your boyfriend getting up from bed. He woke up from his nap just before you made the terrible decision to play with yourself. First, he heard you watching tiktoks—specifically the one that aroused you in the first place. And then he heard it again..and again. Like you stopped scrolling. Then, he started hearing your pretty little moans. Once he arrived in the phone-illuminated living room, he put the pieces together. He had actually been standing around watching you as he heard your cute little whimpers begging for a release. It seems that you weren’t as quiet as you thought.

“My, my, babygirl..did the words ‘wait for me’ slip your mind?” you yelp.

Suddenly, you feel one of his hands snake around your chin to tilt in his direction, and the other pinning your wrists away from you—stopping your movements.

Which is what brings you to this point. Him fucking you on his fingers in slow agony. It was supposed to be a night he was meant to take care of you. And you couldn’t wait until you had his full attention? He was not going to let that slide. Instead of giving you pleasure until your release, he had other ideas in mind.

“Y-yes daddy,” you shiver.

“Oh good, you do listen. Now tell me—” he begins, his fingers ever so slowly pump in and out of you, stretching you out.

“—What were you thinking when you stopped on that video darling?” He watches you writhe in pleasure. With your pupils blown, your body twitching in response to his oh so slow movements, and your hands grasping at air—pinned down by his large veiny hands at your wrists—he can’t help but look at you like an angel. How gorgeous you are…he thinks, smirking like the fox he is.

“I was thinking..mmh! About your t-tongue inside me daddy—fuck,” you gasp.

“Go on, princess, tell me how much you need me.” He groans. He can feel pre-cum soaking his sweatpants, his cock throbbing for you, begging to be released from the clothed prison.

“So bad. S-so b-bad. Your p-pretty pussy is aching for your mouth inside me ah~”

“You taste so good, daddy can’t help but to make you feel good to taste more of you..” He gropes your breast in one hand while his mouth is on the other, giving your clothed tits most of the attention—still finger fucking you ever so slowly.

You start to see stars. His fingers in you are already too much, despite the pace. How you’ve missed him touching you like this. But he’s slow. Way too slow. It feels like minutes pass before his fingers slip out again. Every second, you feel less than a milimeter’s worth of his two fingers occupy your gummy walls. Yet, you can’t help but take it all in. You’re drunk on his movements, you’d let him do anything to you at this point.

“You even dressed up in the purple lace I love so much,” he thumbs one of your sensitive nipples for it to perk up, pinching at it slightly. You groan, getting frustrated that you haven’t been able to cum yet.

His thumb grazes your clit. Barely even a graze, it’s almost as if his thumb makes contact by accident. It’s not enough to apply pressure, but enough for you to notice he’s toying with you. Making sure you know he’s doing it on purpose. The fucker. He hears you choke on your own breath every time he gives your clit a little bit of attention.

Jeongin coos, high on your moans. He leans in to you. “You think I wouldn’t notice baby? And now you’re on punishment for playing with daddy’s pussy..do you think I’m an idiot that would let you get away with it, slut?”

Biting between your ear and the skin just below it. “F-fuck…” you groan. He hums in success. He knows how you like to be fucked. Your body is very telling, and your voice lets you down everytime. Every frustrated huff, moan, and whine he takes from you. He’s barely doing anything and you’re already such a mess for him. He’s eager to try more, drunk on your fucked out sounds.

Before you know it, a moan slips out from your lips. “D-daddyyy..” you beg. You feel so close. And then, your body echoes to you. The pit of your stomach begins to tighten and your pussy throbs quickly. Tears brim at your glassy eyes, threatening to roll down. You mewl and moan, unable to control the next words to come out of your mouth. “Please! I c-can’t-t. I can’t I can’t I–” he stops. He removes his slender coated fingers from your tightening hole. A squelching sound fills the room.

Then, your heartbeat slows. You begin to catch your breath. Your tears spill. Your mind is not yet clear, but your senses kick in. You whine the moment you feel your cunt clenching around nothing, and you hear tutting. “My baby’s so close..too fucked to hear what I said, hm?”

You pause. No. No, no, no, no. You scramble to give him an answer quickly after you didn’t respond immediately.

“Daddy…mm..no! N-no I didn’t think—” He interrupts you.

“—Hush hush, it’s ok baby. Too blissed out on my fingers to think quickly.” Tears engulf your eyes, being denied a release.

“I’ll fuck you right to correct this behavior, don’t worry. For now, it’s my turn.”

[notsogoodphotographer]

Hi i want to talk about my all time favorite camera 📸

pls ignore all my grammar mistakes, i’m not professional reviewer 😂 i just wanna talk about this camera.

This is the Sony RX1Rii, this is the third and “most recent” version of this camera. i put “most recent” in quotes because this camera is almost 10 years old. don’t like the old age fool you because this camera can keep up with the newest cameras in its niche.

This little point and shoot sports a 42mp full frame sensor. YES, F U L L F R A M E!! This tiny camera is actually smaller than all the x100 series (minus the lens on it). The camera has an incredibly sharp Zeiss Sonnar 35mm f2 glued to. This camera has 399 af points, with eye AF. The camera is incredibly fast and accurate!! the camera is pretty much a tiny packaged Sony A7Rii!

One of my favorite features of this camera is the pop-up EVF! This is a feature that was added to only this version of the camera and it’s a feature that i wish sony continued to incorporate into some of their other smaller cameras like the A7c or a6k series!

The camera does shoot video up to 1080 120fps, but does not have picture profiles such has S-log or HLG. This was a camera made strictly for photos, which is probably for the best because the battery life on this camera is terrible, any kind of prolong video shooting would absolutely burn through these batteries in minutes.

That brings me to my next point, my cons. There’s not many but i figured i’d point them out anyways for those who are interested in this camera. these aren’t make it or break it cons, these are just issues that hinder it from being the greatest camera ever released (IMO)

1) battery life, i believe it’s rated for like 220 shots. Ive definitely gotten it to last twice than that. That tiny body processing all that data on some of the tiniest batteries makes sense why it’s so bad. Luckily batteries are cheap and like i said they’re tiny, so they’re pretty easy to carry around!

2) no picture profiles in video. i know i touched on it briefly up above and this camera is mainly a photo camera AAAAAND hybrid cameras were just beginning to grow in popularity around the time this camera came out but it would’ve been amazing to have s-log in this camera for little snippets here and there. i know at the time IG and other photo sharing apps were mainly photo sharing apps, and a camera that was built strictly for photo has no business having usable picture profiles in video.

3) no crop mode in RAW. this one is weird to me because i know the A7Rii has an APS-C mode where you can shoot RAW photos with an inbody crop and there’s times that i’d love to shoot something at 50mm (35mm + sony’s 1.5x aps-c crop). there is a digital zoom option but that’s for jpg only.

4) PRICE!!!! why the fuck is this camera still being sold for $3200??!! this is a 10 year old camera with outdated tech. i bought mine used for $1900 (which is about the price of the fuji x100V at the time of purchase) and i still think that’s a little too much.

that’s really about it aside from minor complaints of not having tele/ wide converters. i’m also sure all of those cons stem from the small battery. I’d love to see all of these corrected in a Mk3 one day, but as of a couple weeks ago sony just discontinued the Rx1rii’s production. I’m being a little hopeful but maybe that means we’re getting a successor, i doubt it but a boy can dream.

I don’t really do reviews or anything but this camera has had my heart for the past 9 months so i had to show it off/ talk about it. this to me in the perfect everyday camera. it never leaves my side and comes with me to any and every trip! Im always blown away by the photos i create with this little camera and i know whenever a mk3 comes out im going to hop on the chance to buy on immediately!

[deansapplepie]

Till THE DEAD do us part |Chapter 13

A/N: This story will take place in all the seasons, but it’s not exactly a rewriting cause I’d have to re-watch everything to use the exactly lines of the characters, also I think it’s better if I tell a side story without changing the main facts of the story. This story has a Female Reader, but I don’t describe her appearance, so anyone can identify with her.

Chapter 12 Chapter 14

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Chapter 13: This group’s broken

Summary: Randall is still a problem the group needs solve and come to an agreement about. The happenings of the barn is still something shaking some people. Feelings and traumas from the past comes to haunt Y/N making her anxiety boil and overthink a lot.

Warnings: swearing, angst, death, mentions of violence, gore, suicide attempt (not narrated, but mentioned), mentions of depression, mentions of torture, mentions of execution, traumas, anxiety, mentions of abusive relationships, fear of abandonment, brief discreet mentions of sex, loss, grief. Minors do not interact.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader (Rick’s Sister)

Word Count: 5,834

Extra notes: I proofread the text, but English is not my first language, so feel free to correct any mistakes, of course with love. Also, there’s a bunch of warnings in this one but there’s also fluff, comfort and a bit of fun.

Finally Randall’s leg was well enough so he could survive alone in the wild that was Earth now, so Rick and Shane would carry him miles away from the farm and release him. You weren’t very happy about Rick going alone with Shane.

“Let me go with you, please.” You pleaded Rick for the millionth time, Shane wasn’t someone reliable anymore, you couldn’t risk losing your brother again and have Shane coming back with some lame excuse how he made for Otis.

“Y/N, I’m the one here with self defense skills, not you. I can handle myself well without you. I need you here.” Rick said, and that would be the last time he would tell you, he was losing his temper already. “No discussion.”

“Be careful, please. He’s dangerous.” You hugged him and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll be, don’t worry. I need this time alone with him. I’m coming back.” He assured you and hoped it would really turn out like this, because you could see the madness in his eyes, and by how we was obsessed with Lori… you didn’t doubt he would be able to do atrocities even to his ‘brother’.

After they left, you couldn’t get rid of the uneasy feeling you had on the pitch of your stomach. You were going to help around in the farm and in the house, but your mind couldn’t stop the worry. You were giving the horses water when you heard a knock on the stables door, you look to your side and you saw Daryl. As much as the idea of scaring you was tempting enough, he chose not to do so.

“Just wanted to let ya know I’m gonna hunt, maybe bring somethin’ good.” He approached you.

“Ok, be careful, please and don’t come back late. I’m already worried enough by Rick.” You said, then looked both sides and didn’t see anyone around. You tiptoed and pecked his lips.

He blushed, he had been doing way more than this with you and he blushed because you gave him a small kiss inside a stable where the only witnesses were the horses. He knew you were worried about Rick being alone with Shane, things between you and Shane had gone bad since the day of the happenings of the barn and it was just going down. When Daryl told you one night that he thought Shane had killed Otis, things spiraled really quick and you started seeing Shane with different eyes, many attitudes from him made sense actually. He wasn’t the person that you used to know anymore.

“Dun worry. Rick’s tough, he basically came back from the dead, nothing bad is happening to him.” He said, he could practically read your mind and know everything you were thinking about it.

“And you?”

“Me too. I’m gonna be careful. I promise, I’ll be back in one piece.” He gave you a quick kiss, you said your goodbyes and you went back to your chores.

Lori was inside the house helping with the chores and also helping Maggie taking care of Beth. She was still not good, she was in a state of depression that got all of you worried. Lori was preparing a lunch for Beth, so you were around the kitchen with her and Maggie. Maggie was talking about Glenn with Lori, you decided to not participate of the conversation, but you were listening to everything. Lori was more experienced on the topic of relationships, you knew what was good or not, but just theoretically. Until now you had had just one boyfriend before Daryl and it was a shitty experience, so you didn’t know if you had something wise to say even though you were older than Maggie. You thought it was a bit too much when Lori said that Glenn should man up, imagine saying it to the young man, he would be sad or really offended, or both.

“Glenn is just scared, he’s a good guy. You’re probably his first love, I can’t say it for sure, but that’s what it seems. He’ll overcome this fear of him. Don’t worry.” You passed an arm on Maggie’s shoulder and gave a little squeeze on her arm to reassure her.

“And how about you and grumpy man? Have you already said the words?” She elbowed you playfully.

“Hmm… no. Not exactly. I don’t know if it’s like this.” You said, you were always reserved about your personal matters, always keeping everything to yourself, afraid to let people know your feelings or to be exposed and feel weak. But maybe, some girl talk wouldn’t be that bad. “He said the other day I was his and I also said it to him…” You paused thinking if you’d say the other thing that came to your mind to them.

“And…?” Lori asked. “We know there’s more. Spill it.”

“He… he said that his… you know… was mine.” You blushed instantly talking about it and thinking about it. Was it correct to tell such thing to others? You never knew what was ok, and what wasn’t, but it’s not like if you were telling all the sordid details of what you two did.

Lori made a face as if she was thinking ‘wow, the man really have some balls’ and Maggie just had a fit of giggles, giving you a side hug and squeezing you. “It’s almost the same thing as saying that 3 words.” Maggie observed.

“It isn’t, this is possessiveness which is normal in relationships even the healthy ones. But anybody can have this without love.” You told Maggie, she was young, probably didn’t have unhealthy relationships she wouldn’t know. You were maybe 8 or 9 years older than her, it was a different experience, especially with broken people.

“Well… everybody can see, but we can’t stop you from being stubborn. I need to go help Glenn, but if you need anything you can call me.” She said and then turned to Lori. “Thank you so much for helping with Beth.”

“It’s nothing really.” Lori said and got the tray to give lunch for Beth.

You stayed at the house and helped Lori at the kitchen, you washed some dishes and cleaned and organized the room. After one hour or so, Lori went to Beth’s room to get the tray back. She came back with untouched food, Beth couldn’t continue like that. When she was throwing away what Beth didn’t eat, she suddenly stopped and ran from the kitchen.

“What happened? Lori?” You asked her, but she was already gone. She came back a knife in hand and in a rush.

“Go and Keep an eye on Beth. I’m gonna bring Maggie or Hershel.” She said and left.

You left the kitchen and went to Beth’s room, on your way you put the pieces together and realized Beth had hidden the knife and was probably going to attempt something against herself. Soon Lori arrived with Maggie and Andrea, Maggie asked to be left alone with Beth and all of you went back to the kitchen.

You were trying to be in good terms with Andrea again, so you decided you’d try not to talk back at her when she said stupid things, even though they were talking about Beth. You just stayed there watching while they talked Andrea thought Beth should make her own choice, which is very different from what happened with her. Beth is just a kid and she’s not dying because she was bitten, so why let her commit suicide? She should be talked to and taken care of to help her get better. You bit your tongue trying to not express yourself, but you just couldn’t contain it when Andrea brought up the fact that Lori had her husband back, her child was saved, she had a baby on the way and had a ‘boyfriend’. And Andrea had to finish bringing you up in the middle of the thing, did you disagree with her? Yes. But did you say anything about it? No, just on your mind. So why bring you to the discussion?

“And you…” She pointed at you startling you at the suddenly call. “You have your brother, your nephew, a new nibling on the way and you’re fucking Dixon like rabbits, you would never understand.”

“Andrea, are you serious? I wasn’t even in the discussion. Why do you always involve me in your shit? You don’t get to speak like this to Lori, we had a lot of blessings, but we also suffered like everyone else. Do you think we were happy the whole time we thought Rick was dead? Or that it didn’t cross our minds that Carl was going to die? You think we didn’t suffer because of Amy, Jim, Jacqui, Sophia or all the others lost we had along the way?” She said everything she wanted to Lori and now she was going to listen to you. “And why do you mind who I fuck? You’re fucking Shane, and nobody told you a word. Mind your own business.”

You almost didn’t stop to breath while the words just came out of your mouth like a waterfall. “I wasn’t going to say anything regarding Beth, but she’s only sixteen. She’s a kid, we have to protect her and try to help her get better, and not encourage the way out. Andrea, I think we’re never going to be in good terms again, there’s no way. You’re not the same anymore.”

You left the house and went back to the camp, finding Carl and Luna playing with a stick. Carl had been acting colder and colder in the last days, it was good to see him being a kid, even if it was for a brief moment. You played a little with them, but to be honest you were still nervous about Andrea and worried about Beth.

After 30 minutes, maybe one hour, you didn’t know exactly, you heard a commotion in the house. You told Carl to stay there and ran to see what happened. When you arrived to the source Lori and Maggie had just opened the door to the bathroom and there was a crying Beth, hand on her bleeding pulse, asking for help and saying she was sorry. You learned Maggie had left Beth alone with Andrea and it was her biggest mistake, because she left the girl alone and God knows what she said to her. Maggie had a fight with Andrea and told her to never again step in the house. You were done, your stress level was up on the sky already.

When it was almost getting dark you saw Daryl coming back, you walked in his direction happy to see him and have an excuse to not be in the camp, hence near to Andrea. You met him halfway, he had some rabbits and squirrels, you knew it probably wasn’t what he really wanted but you were grateful for any meat that he brought back.

“I thought you’d never comeback.” You said walking by his side.

“I said I’d comeback.” He answered and took a quick glance at you. “Jus’ didn’t wanna comeback without something.”

“We’re all grateful to you, bringing meat or not.” You said while you arrived the small camp of yours.

He took everything he needed to start to skin what he brought and clean so it would be ready for consumption. You sat near him observing his work, you never tried, but now you had observed him doing it so much that you’d probably be able to skin something if you needed or wanted to.

“Wha’s wrong?” He asked still concentrated on his job. Once again, you were surprised on how he could know something was not right. “I can see all over ya that somethin’ is bothering ya.”

“Today was a stressful day” You propped your elbows on your knees and rested your face between your hands. You recalled all the situation with Beth and Andrea, and you just wish this day didn’t happen, and it was far from being one of your worst days.

“Wha’ happened?” He lifted his head from his work and took a look at you. You looked tired, everyone was always tired nowadays, but it was not only physical it seemed that your mind was also tired.

“Andrea was a bitch. I swear I tried to be on good terms with her again. And Beth tried the way out, I believe encouraged by Andrea. Maggie left them alone and Andrea also left Beth alone.” You gave him the short story of all that happened. “I should have gone with you.”

“Yeah, ya should.” That was his way of saying ‘I missed you’.

Soon you saw the car in which Rick, Shane and Randall left arriving back in the property. When you saw Rick getting off the car you felt relieved to see him, but apparently they had comeback with Randall. Shit, it wasn’t over. As soon as Daryl finished skinning and cleaning the hunt, you went to to the camp to meet Rick and know what happened.

Once you arrived you saw that Rick had bruises and cuts on his face, no way it was the kid, walkers? No. It was Shane. Damn, he had the audacity to attack Rick. You didn’t even think, you turned around, hot headed and ready to go look for Shane and beat the hell out of him.

“Where d’ya think ya’re going?” Daryl hold your arm stopping you to go anywhere. He knew where you were going, sometimes he could read you so easily that it surprised him.

“I’m going to give Shane hell, nobody gets to touch my brother.” You yanked your arm from Daryl’s hand, just for him to catch you again, holding his arms around you so you couldn’t go. That wasn’t the moment for you to be reckless.

“Y/N, do you think I was just beaten? I also beat him.” Rick reasoned with you.

“Either way, it wasn’t enough, he deserves worse.” You said, still fighting – in vain - in Daryl’s arm.

“Woman, stop. Ya’re being more hot-head and stubborn than me.” Daryl turned you around and hold you by the shoulders. “Look at me.” He commanded, and you looked at him, right in his beautiful blue eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid. He’s uncontrollable and ya know it. If he lays a finger on ya, I dunno what I’m capable of doing and I dun wanna find out.”

“Ok.” You answered and didn’t try to go for Shane, but you still felt like ending him. “Why did you bring the kid back?” You directed the question to Rick.

“He said he studied with Maggie. Which means he knows where the farm is.” Rick ran his hand on his face. “We’ll need another solution.”

The other day, after breakfast, Daryl went to the room where Randall was, he said he was going to talk with him. It was taking a long time for him to return and you were starting to get worried.

“Ok, that’s it. I’m going to see what is taking him so long to come back.” You told your brother.

“Don’t, the kid is handcuffed. There’s nothing he can do against Daryl.” Rick said standing on your way. “I don’t wanna you close to that guy.”

“I think you had said you’d stop treating me like a child, Rick.” You looked at his face and you could see there was something wrong. “Are you two hiding something? That’s it? Now you have secret agreements between both of you?”

Before Rick could say anything, you saw Daryl coming in your direction. Was that Blood on his hand? ‘Holy shit! What the hell have you done Daryl Dixon?’, you thought. He arrived telling you all the information he got from the kid, there were 30 in his group, they were violent and dangerous, they raped women. You followed Daryl to your tent, you could feel he was still angry, so you were thinking about what should be the best approach.

“D. Let me see your hands.” You requested and he started organizing his things to leave and go into the woods.

“There’s nothing to see, I’m good.” He said with some arrows in his hand.

“Daryl.” He ignored you.

“Daryl Dixon.” He ignored you again, stuffing things on his backpack, so you just got close to him silently and yanked his backpack throwing it on the ground.

“What the fuck Y/N?” He shouted at you, now you had his full attention.

“Stop, this shit! I’m talking to you, your hands are hurt! Let me take care of them.” You told him your voice high. He looked at you impatient. You took his hand and guided him to one of the beach chairs. “Sit.”

“I ain’t a dog.” He complained while you made him sit.

“So, why are you obeying me?” You threw back while you picked the First Aid kit inside the tent. You were playing with fire and you knew it.

He tried to get up while he mumbled something in protest that you couldn’t understand. But you were faster than him and pressed his shoulder down so he would sit again. You took the other chair and brought it close to him, sitting in front of him, your legs between his so you could be closer to take care of his hand.

“Gimme your paw, I mean, your hand.” You joked one hand extended on his direction waiting for him to give you his hand. “If I’m a puppy, you might as well be one. Or maybe you’re a Kitten, you are as skittish as one.”

He gave you his left hand very reluctantly, but he knew you would not let him be if he didn’t. You took his hand and saw how his knuckles were hurt, your heart ache by seeing his hand like this, but you also felt uneasy about the young man that was on the other side of his fist. You took some alcohol and wet a cotton swab to pass where he was hurt.

“It’s gonna hurt.” You alerted him, he didn’t say anything. He just observed your small hand holding his and tendering his wounds with the cotton swab, hissing when it hurt too much. “Did Rick ask you to do this?”

“No.” He answered, short… good he didn’t want to talk.

“Did he know about it?”

“Maybe.” He answered eyes on your hands now cleaning the wounds with boric-water.

“Or he did or he didn’t. Gonna take it as he did, he was acting suspect.” You stated, looking at your first aid kit for some ointment.

“Are ya angry at me?” He asked while you passed the ointment on his wounds.

“No, just concerned and upset. Gimme your other hand.” You took his other hand and started to give the same care. “I don’t like both of you hiding things from me.”

“ ‘m sorry, ya dun agree with what I’ve done, do ya?” He asked, head still down paying attention to you.

“Torturing isn’t right.”

“I didn’t have an option, we needed the information about his group.” You cleaned his other hand. “His group… the things he said they did… he’s not someone to be around or for us to let go, he knows where the farm is.”

“So, do you think we should kill him?” You asked a cotton swab passing on his hand.

“Yes.” He said, you were conflicted. You were always taught that killing was wrong, you can’t take life from someone. Unless it’s a walker, of course. Or, if your life is in danger. But execute someone? It sounded wrong, but at the same time… you should think about the group safety. “Don’t ya agree?”

“I don’t know… I think it’s wrong, but I also see that we’re out of better options.” You passed the ointment on his hand.

“Are ya comin’ to the woods with me?” He asked a little apprehensive that you wouldn’t want to be with him because you were upset.

“Thought you’d never ask.” You looked at him and smiled, no way you’d be stuck in the farm again in the middle of all the chaos.

You were having things done to go, when you saw Dale arriving followed by Luna swinging her tail. Dale came to talk to you about the decision of killing Randall, he wanted to know what both of you thought, and of course try to convince you otherwise if you thought the boy should be killed.

“I’m not sure Dale, really. At the same time I think we shouldn’t, I don’t see any other solution.” You said, despite you thought your opinion would not be so important in the end. Dale tried reasoning with Daryl to no avail.

“This group’s broken.” He said, and when you heard that… you couldn’t help but feel bad. Was really your group broken? Did Daryl think the group wasn’t good enough for him anymore? Did he want to leave? Would he leave without you? Would he even tell you if he decided to leave? Was he tired of you?

You were so caught up in your anxious thoughts that you didn’t even saw that Dale was long gone and Daryl was calling you so you could go. “Pup, what’s wrong?” He asked, his hand waving in front of you worried.

“Nothing.” You lied, and he knew you lied. “Let’s go?”

He got his things, you got yours, Luna followed you and you walked silently until you reached the woods. You were open and comfortable with Daryl, you always were and it even annoyed you some times, because you would speak whatever is on your mind, and in your opinion you said things you shouldn’t say. But you couldn’t talk about your feelings, or you tried not to, because of a bunch of insecurities clouding your thoughts. He wasn’t also very comfortable about talking about feelings, so it was understandable, but at the same time he felt uneasy if he didn’t know everything that’s on your mind. He held your hand and it startled you from your unstoppable thoughts.

“Ya lied again.” He didn’t took his eyes from the woods searching for any danger or possible hunt. His voice didn’t change the tone, there was no anger or negative feelings on his speaking.

“I don’t wanna talk about my feelings.” You said looking at your feet attentive to where you stepped, your other hand slightly brushing over Luna’s head.

“But I want to know what ya’re feeling. I need to.” He said, damn… did he sound vulnerable? Was he weak? He couldn’t allow himself to look pathetic and weak, but he also didn’t want to mistreat you. “ ‘m not good talking ‘bout feelings, but I always need to know yers.”

You stopped walking and you turned to him, now holding both of his hands, or more like his hands engulfing yours. “Be honest.”

“Never lied to ya.” He said looking at your face while you were looking down at your hands. “Look at me, please.”

You lifted your head, looking right at his eyes and all you saw was worry. You took a deep breath taking all the courage you had to speak. “Are you…” ‘not happy with me?’ You wanted to complete but stopped mid-sentence. “Do you wanna leave us?”

“Of course not. Where did this come from?” He asked, but before you could answer his mind started to put the pieces together. “That’s because I said the group’s broken, isn’t it?”

“Yes” you said, just that. Unable to say more or add anything else that were running like a tornado inside your mind.

“It wasn’t a lie. I think the group’s broken. Shane’s crazy. Andrea’s reckless and listens to Shane. Carol’s still broken because of Sophia. Glenn… if Hershel decided to kick us from the farm, he’d stay behind and I don’t blame him. This group isn’t like it used to be, not that we were perfect befor’ , we never were.” You took all his words putting everything together and trying to reason what he said. Still feeling uneasy. “Wha’s on yer head?”

“It’s just… when you said it, it seemed like you didn’t care anymore about the group or what happens with it.” You looked at his growing bangs that fell on his forehead, or you wouldn’t be able to say it if you looked at his eyes. “Or…” You paused, no, no, you couldn’t say what you were thinking not at all. You’d scare him, he’d leave you.

“Or wha’ baby?” You looked at his eyes again, and with the worry you saw a softness that you didn’t quite know what it meant. He never called you ‘baby’ outside of the sheets and it made your heart jump and butterflies fly in your stomach.

“Or…” you shifted your eyes to look at your hands, tears threatening to fall. Shit. Why were you so emotional and making a big thing of something this small. “That you didn’t want me and would leave.”

Things had been so good between both of you, that Daryl forgot you still had traumas from your past relationship, traumas that would trigger only when you were in a relationship and could experience things again. And now, was one of those moments. He couldn’t imagine half the shit you’ve been put through so you’d think he would leave you or that he didn’t want you, after he asked you to live with him, after he showed you his scars… after both of you broke so many walls that were built around yourselves.

He let go of your hands and hugged you, you always reassured him when he had his insecurities, now was the moment for him to do the same for you. “I ain’t leaving.” One of his arms was around your waist while the other was in your head bringing your face to hide between his chest and shoulder. “I want ya, and I dun see myself not wanting ya any time soon.”

It was as if a tap was open and the tears that were in your eyes fell making you let little sniffs and hold both hands on Daryl’s vest. “I told Rick, and I’m telling ya now, I ain’t playing with ya.” He didn’t put any names on what you had, he never said ‘I like you’ or ‘I love you’, he didn’t even know how to name what he felt or if he could feel any of those things. But he knew he wanted you, he needed you and he was going to protect you. He had already told you, you were his and indirectly that he was yours, but he couldn’t bring any of those words, these simple words scared him… So he said what he could manage to come out of his mouth. “We’re together.”

You took your face from his chest and looked at his face, he was serious, this wasn’t any sick joke. You should’ve known, you knew Daryl, he wasn’t like that… and you never doubted it. You shouldn’t start doing it now just because you had a relationship. He was not him. He was Daryl and you knew you could trust him. “I’m sorry. I think my period is close, or something…” It was probably something, but you could always blame the hormones, so why not?

He kissed the top of your head tenderly and looked at your face again, now you were better. You looked more like yourself when there wasn’t all those intrusive thoughts and anxiety. “What do ya say I teach ya a little bit of hunting and tracking?” He asked.

“I was waiting for the day you’d offer me this.” You smiled, your hands now resting flat open on his chest. “I’d love if you taught me.”

When it was close to sunset you and Daryl came back to the farm, you didn’t hunt anything as he taught you were still learning so it didn’t go good. He held your hand in his intertwining your fingers and you walked in silence, Luna leading the way in front of you sometimes stopping to wait for your slow asses.

In the moment you arrived at the farm Rick made a call, he was waiting for both of you to make a reunion so everyone could say their opinions about the boy Randall. Everyone except Dale wanted to kill the young man, Dale was extremely disappointed. You still didn’t know what to think about it, but you knew Dale was right.

“I’m with Dale.” You suddenly said and walked to stay by Dale’s side, even though you knew there was no way of winning the vote, you wanted to stay true to yourself. “He’s not his group and as far as we know he didn’t commit a crime that he deserves death penalty.”

You felt like you would combust at any moment just by the stares of Rick and Daryl that didn’t quite understand why you were siding with Dale and not thinking clearly about the wellbeing of the group. Shane also looked at you like you were insane, but you didn’t give a single fuck about it, so it was ok. The others were neutral at you. Soon Andrea also said she was with Dale, but in the end you three weren’t enough to deprive the group from killing Randall.

Everybody left the room to continue their activities, it was getting dark so Daryl, Rick and Shane would take the prisoner to do what they needed to. You were ready to descend the porch stairs when Daryl held your arm slightly and put you aside.

“We need to talk.” He said, and you already knew.

“Is it because I agreed with Dale?” You asked, you knew the answer. “Do you hate me because I disagreed from the group?” All that mattered was that if he would change about you just because you didn’t agree with them.

“Yeah, and I dun hate ya.” Actually it was quite the opposite, but he was concerned about your choices.

“I knew the majority of us would choose his death, my vote would make no difference. So I decided to stay true to myself.” You said, you could see understanding crossing his face by each word you said. “Just because I don’t think it’s right, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t need to be done.”

He nodded at you. “Alright, I ain’t upset. Go stay with Lori while we do this.”

You were with Lori when you saw the three taking Randall to the barn, you held your sister’s hand as a comfort for you. You weren’t going to see the execution, but knowing someone, a human being would be killed in the same place you were was scaring. You were comfortable killing walkers, they weren’t alive anymore, they were just walking corpses. In reality you thought it was merciful to kill the monster that once was a person.

“Don’t think much about it, it’s worse if you do.” Lori tried to calm your nerves, but it was impossible to not think about it.

After some time you didn’t listen to any gun shot and soon you saw Rick and Carl arriving to camp. Wait, Carl? Shit. Shit. Shit. Rick explained that Carl went there to see and that he was encouraging to kill the man. What was happening to the kid? He couldn’t lose himself so quickly like this. Rick wasn’t able to do this with Carl looking, so he postponed the execution.

“Where’s Daryl?” You asked, you saw everyone but him.

“He’s locking Randall again, he’s probably gonna be here soon.” As soon as he finished talking all of you listened to extremely pained screams.

Dale!

You ran in the direction of the screams, Daryl being the first to arrive started shouting for help. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It was bad. All of you arrived almost at the same time and what you saw was heartbreaking, all his guts coming out of his ripped stomach. No. You cried. No.

“Hershel!” Rick shouted, the only thing he thought was you all needed him there to take care of Dale.

“It’s too late, Rick.” You said, tears rolling down your cheeks. You knew as much medicine as Hershel knew, both of you vets, the old man was just more experienced and have treated more people than you, that had only cleaned T.’s wound and took care of Daryl’s hands. “There’s nothing he can do.”

Hershel arrived and said the same thing, you couldn’t even move Dale. He was agonizing. Andrea pleaded that someone did something. Everyone was in pain by seeing Dale like that. He didn’t deserve this kind of death. Rick aimed his gun at Dale, it was best if someone ended this for him. You turned your back, you didn’t want to see, you had already seen more than you wanted to see. You wait for the gun shot, but before you listen to it there’s a raspy voice. “Sorry, brother.” And soon after Daryl’s voice the sound of the shot.

You were waiting for the shot. You knew it was going to happen, but you jumped at it a cry living your lips. You covered your mouth trying to muffle your sobs. You felt a pain in your chest, everybody felt it. There were cries, sobs and lamenting.

That night you cried yourself to sleep, and it wasn’t a peaceful one, even having Daryl’s soothing presence near you.

Dale was the group’s heart and now you felt like your group were definitely broken.

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[duhragonball]

Thanks for answering my ask, well, about the sparkling zero thing is that the game will feature some what if stories and scenarios that looked like fan fiction which might be rather interesting to hear you talk about, I am getting the game today to form my opinions but in case you do look at those I'd be interested to hear your thoughts on them

I finished all of the Story Modes that were available to me, and I have to say, I'm not impressed with the What If scenarios. But then again, I wasn't expecting to be in the first place.

Most of the Budokai and Sparking games had What-If content of some sort, but it's usually pretty thin. Budokai 3 had some grand plans to give every character a story mode, but by the time the actual game released, all most of the characters got was a bunch of sound files from the scrapped stories. You unlocked these as "Memories of [X]" capsules in the game. Either they cost a lot of money, or you had to wish for them with Dragon Balls, I forget which.

I remember the Android 16 one had audio of him having some sort of climactic match with Goku, and there's audio of Goku conceding defeat and accepting that 16 will kill him, but I think he spares him. So it's a what-if scenario in my book. So was that Uub story mode that actually made it into the game, where Uub has to save the world from Omega Shenron. That was pretty cool, but the "Memories of..." capsules pointed to a much bigger project that never materialized.

Other than that, the most memorable what-if content was probably that "Fateful Brothers" think in BT3, where Raditz turns good and Goku takes him in. They have to stop Piccolo from killing him, and he warns him about Vegeta and Nappa. I think it ends with Raditz meeting Bardock in hell.

But a lot of it is pretty flimsy stuff. Not bad, just nothing earth-shaking. It's usually just some cutscenes to set up an unusual match that you could just as easily arrange yourself in vs. mode.

And that's kind of the gripe I have with Sparking Zero's what-ifs, because they're really just minor tweaks to the original story. There's one where Frieza and his goons invade Earth instead of the Z-Fighters facing him on Namek. And it's fine, but it's basically the same series of battles you'd fight in the "correct" version of events. There's one where Vegeta and Trunks actually cooperate in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, and they end up getting the big win over Cell, which sounds awesome, but it's not all that different from going through the Cell Saga normally with Vegeta, Gohan, and Goku.

I haven't unlocked much of this stuff myself, mainly because I'm still getting the hang of the game, and a lot of these branching paths require a lot more skill to activate the right win condition. But I've been watching Kirran and Grant play the game on Goodtimes Zone, and I've found myself enjoying their live reactions more than the stuff they're reacting to. And they like the what if stuff we're getting, but I keep noticing a hint of disappointment, like they were expecting a bit more. More branching paths, and bigger divergences from the canon story.

For example, they were hoping Cooler would show up in the middle of any Frieza-related branches, and yeah, that seems obvious, doesn't it? Hell, King Cold is in the game too, isn't he? Do a thing where he shows up on Namek, or maybe have Cooler wipe out the Androids because he's here to get his own revenge on Goku.

Instead we got... well, I'll cut for spoilers if anyone's interested...

We got Gohan Black. Now this might sound pretty impressive at first, but it kind of doesn't work. So the what-if scenario is that Gohan actually beats Frieza in Res-F before Goku arrives to help, and then Gohan starts training more seriously, so he joins the U7 team for the Destroyer Invitational and defeats Hit to win the whole thing. (Oddly, you don't get to play Gohan vs. Hit, which seems like an oversight in a what-if scenario, but whatever.)

So when the Zamasu arc starts, it turns out that Zamasu steals Gohan's body instead of Goku's in this version, because Gohan was stronger at the time. And that's fine, but it doesn't actually change very much. The real Gohan joins Goku, Vegeta, and Trunks in the battle, but it's the same Zamasu and Black. The only difference is that Kyle Herbert is playing Black in this version instead of Sean Schemmel. Actually I guess in Japanese it might not be that different at all, since Masako Nozawa plays Gohan and Goku.

Gohan Black doesn't even look that different from Goku Black. He just kind of looks like the original Goku Black with a different haircut. He fuses with Zamasu in the end, and they actually changed the Fused Zamasu model to reflect this, but they didn't have to change it very much.

And you have the real Gohan in the story, which is something new, but here's the problem: You already play the Zamasu arc in four other story modes: Goku, Vegeta, Future Trunks, and Goku Black. And it plays out the same way every time.

Good guys vs. Black

Good guys vs. Black and Zamasu

Good guys vs. Black and Zamasu again

Good guys vs. fused Zamasu

Good guys vs. fused Zamasu (corrupted)

I was already sick of it before I bought the game, because I hate the Zamasu arc. But for some reason the game devs thought we should play it five times. And yeah, Gohan remembers the damn jar for the Mafuba in his version, but so what? I still have to look at that ugly-ass stage the whole time, and I still have to listen to Zamasu preach during the fight.

As I understand it, there's a what-if where Trunks joins the U7 team for the Tournament of Power, and that also sounds like a decent idea, except it's kind of the same problem. We see the Tournament of Power in five story modes already: Goku, Vegeta, Gohan, Frieza, and Jiren. I hope Trunks has something fresh to do when he runs through it a sixth time, but I'm not optimistic.

It just feels kind of weak. Maybe they're saving cooler what-if scenarios for DLC, but that seems like a poor strategy when the base game has such weak what-if scenarios. It leaves me skeptical that they even know how to write a cool one. I mean, you've got a bunch of GT and movie guys on the roster. This should be easy. Middle schoolers do this stuff. Here's some ideas I thought of off the cuff.

Goku invites Cell to compete in the Tournament of Power instead of Frieza.

Kefla defeats Goku and now she has to defeat Jiren and Goku's teammates to win the tournament. Vegeta and Gohan fuse into Vegehan in a last-ditch effort.

Golden Frieza Black.

Cell wins the Cell Games and accidentally releases Buu from his ball while terrorizing the Earth, and now he has to team up with the Z-fighters to stop him.

Dabura convinces Babidi to seal Buu up again, and they do evil stuff with Majin Vegeta on their team.

Vegito kills Super Buu, so now Dragon Ball Super plays out with Vegito.

Piccolo survives Nappa's blast and fuses with Kami to sweep the next several dozen episodes' worth of bad guys.

Ginyu Force-Kamikaze Fireballs War.

Turles shows up on Namek and kicks Frieza's ass with fruit power.

Gero sics Android 13 on the Z-fighters during the Saiyan invasion, so Vegeta and Nappa have to do a truce to stop him.

I could probably think of better ideas with some more time, but the point is that none of this would require a lot of extra assets that aren't already in the base game. But they would involve a lot of different battles and settings that you wouldn't see in the other story paths. I don't understand why they didn't get more creative with things. They had all the stuff they needed. All they had to do was think outside the box a little.

[freckled-koi]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒂𝒓

summary: you've known gojo since your training days at jujutsu tech. you were inseparable - as thick as thieves. so, what happened?

pairing: satoru gojo x reader (feat. nanami x reader).

cw: angst, emotional manipulation / mental spiral, mature themes. 18+ / minors dni.

wc: 3k+.

a/n: second chapter is now up! this is starting to become more of a slowburn of a fanfic, and honestly? i can dig with that as long as you can. <3 please enjoy!

( ◡ ◡ ♪ ) ｡

highly suggest reading chapter 001. first! you can also read it here on ao3!

“When did you pick that up?”

You’re caught by surprise by the low purr of a voice filled with curiousness, snapping your head in the direction of it. You were in the middle of lighting the cigarette dangling from your lips, the fire from the lighter going out when you released the mechanism. You were just alone standing by yourself outside of school, not expecting to run into anyone in particular.

“Don’t tell me hanging around Shoko is rubbing off on you..” The man sighs, amusingly hopeless at his own words. Your eyes scan over his much sharper features all the way up to his jet black tresses tied back into a bun to keep the longer strands away from his face and down his back.

You always found it a shame he never cared for his hair down that much. It framed his face better.

All you do is let out a light laugh, shrugging your shoulders as you pluck the cigarette from between your tiers to speak. 

“Shoko and I bum off each other’s smokes whenever we hang out,” You try to become a voice of reason, but you realize it’s not going to do much when you see a flicker of disbelief on the man’s features.

“Don’t tell me you rag on Shoko for smoking, Suguru.”

“Even if I did, she would still do it–”

“Which is why, I’m going to continue doing it~ It helps.”

Suguru Geto doesn’t protest it, knowing he wouldn’t win the war on what was healthily correct for you. All he does is manage a smile, taking a small glance around their surroundings.

It was a bad habit you would dabble in for quite some time, but coming to Jujutsu Tech, you started doing it much more. You even found a small bond with Shoko one night after a stressful trial assignment when you were just a newbie sorcerer. She caught you whipping out a pack you rifled through your bag to find and asked to have one.

You sort of found comfort in doing it more than ever.

Maybe it was a bad way to manage coping with stress, but old habits will die hard.

You sigh after taking a moment to debate, eventually tucking the unlit cigarette back into its packaging and store it away into your bag. Smoking could wait until you were back at home.

Golden hour was upon them when you stand with Geto, glancing back at him as he’s found meeting your gaze. The hues over his skin made him stand like a god, it was almost sickening how pretty someone was without even trying. Although, there were signs of distress under his eyes that you were suspicious about. He looked.. Worn. As if sleep wasn’t something he was getting much of late.

“Are you waiting on Satoru?” 

“Not quite.. I just so happened to begin my route home and just caught sight of you.”

There’s a quirk in your brow to his words, an amused expression crossing Geto’s features when he looks at you with a quiet laugh leaving him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

You shrug.

“Usually you’d be the one walking home with him.”

All Geto does is shrug off the statement, a smile still gracing his lips.

“He’s got his own thing going on.”

“Like you do?” You ask with jest in your tone. It was only meant to be as a way to poke at Geto, but there’s a flicker of an emotion in his eyes that didn’t match the way his lips were still tugged into that signature smile of his. As if, to mask whatever emotion he was holding back.

“Yeah. I got my own thing going on.”

“Oi!” 

The both of you break eye contact to see the taller white haired boy jogging over from afar, shades shimmering and gold reflecting off of them. It’s then that you see Suguru beginning to turn away, fixing the bag on his shoulders. 

“That’s my cue to leave–”

“You’re not sticking around?” Your brows twitch together, staring after the other just as he slows in his steps by your words.

Geto is hesitant to reply, only giving you a small raise of his hand.

“Catch you later, Y/N.” He says his departing words with a care you knew was genuine, but it did nothing but cause a small dip in your stomach to it.

All you do is watch as Geto grows further and further away with you, the white haired boy now caught up completely to where you stand.

“Hey, ready to go?”

The question is almost muffled to you, hardly tearing you away from your gaze settled on Geto. You couldn’t help the idle pondering of what was just going on with him. It was highly unlikely that he wouldn’t stick around to chat with Gojo, because he was always around Gojo. So, what changed?

“Y/N?” It’s when Gojo says your name that you break away from your thoughts, turning your head to look up at him and he has that feigned innocent expression on his features you’ve only seen a small handful of times.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said~, are you ready to go?”

“Oh, right– Yeah.”

You’d push it back to your mind to think on later. Gojo had been begging you to come back to his place to hang out, to watch the latest cheesy rom-com that he had been blabbering about for the longest time and wouldn’t stop until you caved to accompany him.

It’s then that you two start to walk together side by side, drawing your lips inward in thought before your gaze returns back up to the other. You tried pushing it to the back of your mind, but your curiosity gets the best of you.

“Is he doing okay?”

“Who?”

“Satoru, you can’t be serious.” You sigh hopelessly. 

All he can muster is a sheepish laugh, his arm swinging around the space between your arm and shoulder to draw you close to his side. The affection wasn’t too unfamiliar, having a knack for breaking that personal bubble of yours just to be handsy. You were sure his love language was physical touch.

“Suguru’s fine~ I speak to him in passing when you’re not around, you know,”

“Hm..” You exhale a soft hum with the concern still written on your features.

“He really is fine. I try to check in on him, but we’re always off doing our own assignments these days anyway.”

It wasn’t reassuring in the slightest, the way Gojo spoke, but you decide that it was best to drop the topic at hand before he got riled up. Maybe you’d try and catch Geto at the right time and place for a chat the next time you crossed his path.

Your head tilts a bit to get a better look at Gojo when you walk and he meets your gaze, trying to look past his dark shades with a playful grimace.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you always have to cling onto me like this?” You joke, but you don’t pry yourself away from his side at all. Even with what happened moments ago, Gojo’s body was like an anchor for you to ease your nerves – no matter how many times he stepped on them for fun.

It only brings a sly grin stretching over his lips as he leans down some to rest his head on top of yours, rubbing his face into your hair like a cat.

“Aww, but you like it, don’t you, Y/N~? A handsome guy like myself being all over you~”

“Ugh–” You snicker just before you’re pressing your palm to his side to give the both of you some distance, playfully gagging to the way he speaks. “You’re literally disgusting.”

“Oh, come on~” Gojo whines, reaching to draw you back to his side and place his arm back where it laid.

“You know, I wouldn’t have pegged you to be the American movie watcher type.”

You comment just as you’re taking a sip from the mug of black tea you found in the kitchen after you changed into the loungewear you had packed for your stay, idly twirling the tea bag string with your finger as you watched him set-up the television from the sofa. 

Gojo stands proud and tall, the DVD he was flopping around in his hold now on his finger as he grins in your direction, even going as far as showing off, using his Infinite to make it hover.

“I’ve been dabbling here and there into American movies, so I can’t help but have a growing obsession over them~ Don’t have to understand the language to enjoy something great,” He laughs and that just makes your lips quirk up into a smile.

You find his childish excitement rather endearing. The moment he catches your smile, he pauses and allows the disk to fall flat into his palm and he’s turning to place it into the player.

“Plus, subtitles exist.”

The comment makes you snort softly, taking a careful sip from your tea just as you set the top of the mug onto your thigh. 

Gojo and you would do this often. You’d kick back at his place on a Friday night watching a numerous amount of films since you both were big time cinephiles. He had a guest room always made up for you, so you didn’t have to worry about the time getting away from you and beating the clock past curfew to get home. 

Most of the time it was horror movies, other times it was action and adventure. The films you indulged in with Gojo were a variety, but the romance comedy ones were new for you. Not that you’ve never seen one, you just didn’t find any interest in them until Gojo was practically on his hands and knees to have you sit in on one with him. 

After he places the disk into the player, passing through trailers you both didn’t care much for, the movie is now playing on the screen and he moves to join you on the sofa.

Usually, he would be a cushion over, but he’s placed himself close to you this time.

Odd.

You don’t think twice about it.

His arm settles onto the back rest of the sofa right behind you, leg propped up onto his knee away from you. Your legs were crisscrossed into a more comfortable position, allowing your attention to be directed towards the screen. 

The plot was easy to understand from the get-go. Two women hardly enjoying their places in life, their resided homes across the world, so they switch homes for a little vacation. The brother of one meets the girl staying in the one woman’s little English cottage, while the other meets a complete stranger that knows how to produce music in the other’s mansion.

The two of you share a laugh at some parts, Gojo making idle comments out loud to you and to mostly himself throughout the middle of the film.

It was a traditional, corny romance movie – something you weren’t incredibly surprised by. The build up of the lingering romance between the two couples were clearly enamoring, so you’re definitely surprised with yourself when you’re so focused on the film.

You feel a subtle brush in your tresses near your shoulder that causes a small shudder that crawls up your neck. Thank God you knew how to use your peripherals so you didn’t have to turn your head to look, catching Gojo still facing towards the screen with his features lit up by the television screen that shapes his side profile. The expression he wears is soft, and it’s an expression you haven’t familiarized yourself with since getting to know Gojo.

You knew more than the average acquaintance, but not in the similar manner as he was with Geto or Shoko.

The brush of fingertips graze along your shoulder through your crewneck, dragging up over the neckline, playing right at the hem where fabric ended and your flesh began.

What is he doing? 

Maybe it was just a mindless thing he caught himself doing. It doesn’t help that the goosebumps are beginning to form underneath your sweater, gripping the now lukewarm mug you were clinging onto during the movie.

You can hardly pay attention to the movie now, a little distracted but you remain strong and a little still, wondering what he was going to do next. 

However, Gojo doesn’t really go any farther past the neckline, even taking pauses in his movements. It’s when you catch the pause that your head subconsciously turns a centimeter, and his eyes immediately flit to lock with your gaze.

He smiles and it’s one of the warmest smiles he’s worn, making your throat grow tight. 

“.. Are you enjoying it?” Gojo says gently.

“Oh— Yeah, it’s pretty good so far..” 

“See? I’m never wrong about these things~”

You quietly laugh, grinning now by the comment just as a few strands of hair fall past your face that were tucked loosely behind your ear. His hand resting near your shoulder lifts to bring over to neatly, delicately tuck them back into place. The subtle graze of his fingertips at your skin burns and you’re not sure if it’s because of how intimate the touch is or the contrast of his cool fingers on your gradually reddening skin. But he’s never gone as far as to do that.

Sure, he’d cling to you and rub his face on your shoulder, your head, but it was all just playful.

This wasn’t playful.

The only thing that fills the quiet between you two is the dialogue and musical score emanating from the television. Gojo’s attention wasn’t going back to the movie, and strangely, neither was yours. As if you both were wanting to say something, but nothing was coming to fruition.

Gojo is the first to break the silence.

“What are you so pretty for~?” He purrs. 

It sounds so sickly sweet and makes a wave of warmth wash over you. 

It’s hard to formulate words when he’s hardly doing a damn thing, and why it was affecting you now was beyond you.

All you manage is a roll of your eyes, head turning to face back towards the television.

“Oh, now you’re complimenting me?” You say in amusement.

“Hey,” Gojo’s hand reaches over to take your chin with his thumb and forefinger to guide your face back. You’re completely doe-eyed when you're brought back to fix your gaze onto his piercing blue set, his own lids low. “I wasn’t done looking.”

“Y- You see me every day, Satoru.”

“Mnn~.. Not like this though.” You didn’t realize it, but when he took hold of your chin, he closed the proximity between both of your bodies, just where his thigh just barely pressed to your own, hardly giving the both of you that space.

The position he put you in was making your heart race.

“Satoru..” You repeat his name again softly, and he sighs to that.

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?”

Gojo’s lips quirk up into a gentle smile, the pad of his thumb brushing along the curve of your chin before it lifts to just barely touch the bottom of your lip.

“I want to try something with you.”

You feel that surge of warmth run through you again because you knew where this was going just based on the hold and the way his thumb runs delicately over your lower tier; How he looks at you – how close he was to you. It makes your stomach twist, your shoulders tense up. Hell, the idle thought of doing those sorts of things with Gojo was just a fleeting, intrusive thought all on its own, and you never really thought you or him would actually act on them. There were moments where those fleeting touches and catching each other’s gaze would make you feel some type of way. Maybe even the times where he was clinging onto you and pulling you in close too, but it was nothing you dwelled on for too long.

Gojo and you were just friends. Friends don’t do those sorts of things. 

You’re hanging onto his words now, the movie now long forgotten and only becomes background noise at this point in time. You can’t even seem to give a response to his words and it only makes him quietly snicker to it.

Gojo shifts, closing that proximity between the two of you and only leaving just mere centimeters of your frame to his, guiding you by your chin and your body willingly follows suit. 

“If it doesn’t work, I won’t do it again.” 

It’s the last thing he says just before he’s leaning in, your eyes fall shut because staring at him with that doe-eyed look you were getting accustomed to was crazy. The hands around the mug are tight, you almost could break the glass if you squeezed it any tighter. It’s then that Gojo completes his goal of making sure there was no room left between the two of you, his lips finding purchase on your own in a slow kiss. 

It’s so warm and delicate, mindlessly melting into just how much he’s drawing you in by it. You never thought this was how it would feel to kiss Gojo. Maybe it was entertained in your mind for much longer than you would admit – you felt it would be the type to rush, sticking his tongue down someone’s throat in the heat of the moment, but he was taking his time. The palm of his hand slides with ease to cradle the side of your face now, thumb dragging over the apple of your flushed cheek just as his lips part to take it a step further, almost as if he was deepening the kiss and your own couplets follow.

What am I doing?

There’s a sliver of realization that comes back to you and your eyes flutter back open, retracting from the kiss with a soft sound. Your eyes meet with Gojo’s piercingly blue orbs, almost a little surprised by how short the lip lock was between you two.

“I– I have to use the bathroom–” You quickly declare, and you only can remember the small flicker of confusion crossing Gojo’s expression just as you scramble to set the mug on the coffee table.

You feel you grasp at your hand, stopping you from moving any further from your place near the sofa. You snap your head towards Gojo’s hand holding yours before they reach his eyes again. There’s a clear look of surprise on your features to him grabbing you. Didn’t he say if it didn’t work out, he wouldn’t do it again?

“Wait, Y/N–”

“Just– Just give me a second.” You say firmly and Gojo takes that as a sure sign to back off, allowing you to push off his hand as he slumps back into the sofa and you make your way to the bathroom just around the corner.

Locking the door behind you, you finally sigh out as if you were holding your breath the entire time. Your hands come up to push at your tresses, doing a small pace in the minimal space of the bathroom. 

“What the fuck.. What the fuck.” Your hands come up to shield your face as you stop in front of the sink, having to just replay what just happened. Was he doing that just to fuck with you? Maybe entertain something and go beyond just kissing, to get you to do more? Did he mean to do any of that? Hell, you must’ve had his attention with how much time you both had spent around each other and him doing this was more than clear. 

It was all way too overwhelming and confusing for you to process, hands now bracing the edge of the sink after reaching to turn the faucet on. Your eyes linger on your reflection in the mirror, staring over the flush on your cheeks and how widely blown your eyes were, brows knitted together in frustration. 

Gojo put you in such a vulnerable state, it was almost becoming uncomfortable the more you thought about it. You bring your lips inward, fixing your posture as you bring a hand to your lips to touch. The kiss was.. Lovely, but.. You were wishing you were more mentally prepared before he decided to just ‘try something’ with you.

After a while longer, you come out of the bathroom. It was quiet for the most part, figuring he must have paused the movie after you left. 

You return to the room and you see Gojo is still seated, one arm over the back of the sofa while the other is propped up on the arm of it, hand balled up and resting his chin there. He switched positions, being at the very end of the couch.

It’s when he feels your presence, he turns his head back to you, facial features relaxed as he stares over your frame.

The both of you are so quiet, you don’t even know what to say to him before you’re walking back over. This time, you seat yourself at the opposite end of the sofa, and he watches you as you move.

You break the silence first.

“Can we.. finish the movie?”

You request with a hesitance in your tone, bringing your legs back up to crisscross back into their original position and all Gojo does is nod once and he’s hitting play on the remote.

Both of you sit in an awkward silence, hardly even responding to the movie’s plot and reveling in the moment you both shared not even minutes ago.

Both of the girl’s get the guys they weren’t hoping to find in the film.

The hands resting on one another in your lap tightens to that.

[cookii-moon]

So fam, you seem to like to talk about ghost Cole. So tell me, how would you rewrite dotd? :)

I love talking about ghost Cole you are correct

The obvious first step is make it a season like it was supposed to be. DotD was just too short to set up much and the filler fight scenes didn’t help it. You could also have a longer special or a movie. Either or works.

The second is we should’ve gotten to see more of Cole BEING a ghost before we got to see him not being a ghost. I think the Chinese version did some parts of DotD better in that regard because we did at least get to see an exclusive intro where the ninja are training together. Cole gets knocked into a rack and suddenly they leave without him. We also get to know it’s happened before because if iirc he says smthn along the lines of “not again..” which did a better job of setting things up than the English version.

Have him use his ghosty powers for stuff to showcase the positives before having the ninja forget about him more and more as the episodes go on until the viewer is firmly aware something is VERY wrong and this isn’t just a cute holiday season. It starts with minor things you wouldn’t notice and gets more and more intense as the show goes on until Cole is forced to recognize he’s being forgotten.

It then becomes a race against time for Cole to find a way out of it before it’s too late, perhaps along with some of Yang’s trickery along the way? He also slowly grows to have a spite for Yang. Maybe you could also explore some of the duality between the side of him that’s used to being a ghost and the side of him that wants to be human again. Maybe the lines of life and death have blurred for him now that he’s fading, and Morro is trying to guide him (he probably has no clue it’s Morro until the end lol) to make up for his mistakes. Mostly because I think Spirit/Sandstorm duo would be fun to explore plus Morro shouldn’t be gone from DotD completely.

Obviously eventually he’d break and go to Yangs temple again. Morbid curiosity? He finally found a way? He’s just salty? Who knows!

I don’t think releasing the villains would serve any real purpose tbh. The ninja have already forgotten him and having former enemies pop up would only cause suspicion, plus it leads to the filler fight scenes, their only real purpose in the story anyways was fan service.

Anyways I want the fight scenes with yangs students to be more exciting. I want full on ghost brawls where they’re flying all over the place and fighting mid air and zipping through obstacles and walls and possessing weapons n stuff like cmon. We were robbed!!

As much as I love Ghost Cole I don’t think he’d stay a ghost. They had a point it DOES make him too overpowered in the long run and kinda means you have to write around it all the time when introducing stakes. It’s kind of already showcased a lot in the fandom where people will write fics in which he’s in a situation that shouldn’t really affect him as a ghost at all, but he’s still affected since you can’t put water everywhere and it’s hard to account for everything.

I do think he deserves the right to be permanently AFFECTED by his time as a ghost and it should be addressed more often. I want Cole to have a full blown panic attack when he and Jay go in the swamp to rescue the workers in S7. I want his lava arms and their connection to his time as a ghost and how he feels about them to be explored. I want various side effects to rear their head like him collapsing from exhaustion in the middle of a mission because he’s not used to sleeping or him struggling in a fight because he has to completely relearn his old fighting style. I want Vangelis to use his past to toy with him via necromancy and he’s absolutely terrified of going back to that life again or being stuck under his control because of the stupid leftover ghost traits.

Obviously this is just a concept, though who knows, maybe there’ll be a Spectral Flight sequel some day when I finish writing it. It probably wouldn’t be canon, but it’s a fun idea 👀

[half-blood-community]

Hot Take Discussions

Hi demigod and half-blood homies! It's Praetor Rose here with Hot Take Discussions, where every Wednesday a new Riordanverse Hot Topic will be released. Give your thoughts in the comments or through reblogs!

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Start a new thread. Okay, so maybe the first person who replied wants to talk about Crusty and how awesome his waterbeds are, and that's just not your cup of tea. Maybe you're really excited to talk about Nancy Bobofit and how she was robbed of the chance to develop as a character. Start a new comment thread and invite people to reply!

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Play devil's advocate. Maybe the debate isn't really a debate, and it's just a bunch of people shouting into a void about how great The Lightning Thief is. You're craving a little spice. Sure, you might agree with them, but if you really want to see some debate, think of what a naysayer might say. Try commenting something like, "While I agree with the majority's opinion, it might be interesting to consider that someone might not like the expository nature of the book" or "I saw someone on Tumblr say they didn't like The Lightning Thief because they hate waterbeds. What do you guys think about that?"

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[fraeuleintaka]

Thoughts on some more new names in the official Investigations 2 Localisation

This is the 54th post in the Ace Attorney Investigations Collection Countdown: 27 days left until release!

Today's topic: some more new names that have been revealed from the official Investigations 2 localisation!

I already made a countdown post discussing the new names of I2 characters that had been revealed at that point but now with all the new information we got there have also been more names revealed for new characters. They're mainly from the characters in the 2nd case but we also got the full names of two characters from the 1st case that we previously only knew the last names of:

Tabby Lloyd (for Nicole Swift): As previously predicted, the name is a play on "tabloid". I like it, fits the character with the casual quality it has to it. The pun is obvious but it's not bad. I still like Nicole Swift as a name though, these two are about equal for me.

Bronco Knight (for Horace Knightley): I already talked about why I prefer "Knightley" over "Knight" (a bit more clever to not just have the name of the literal chess piece) but I also vastly prefer "Horace" over "Bronco". "Bronco" is a Spanish given name that means something like gruff and is the Spanish word for an untamed horse. The horse connection is obvious and Knightley has a pretty gruff personality so that is fitting as well. "Horace" only really sounds similar to horse so I admit that the meaning is comparatively lacking but it sounds much more like a legit name to me while "Bronco" sounds like calling someone "Stallion" as their given name. I'll probably get used to it over time but on first reading I'm not a fan.

[Major spoilers for Investigations 2 beyond this point]

The rest of the revealed new names are characters introduced in the 2nd case of the game:

Simeon Saint (for Simon Keyes): His first name is a direct improvement since it keeps a similar sound and meaning while avoiding the double naming with Simon Blackquill from DD (which the fan translation team couldn't know about at the time). The monkey connection is still there with the "three wise monkeys" reference, fitting to Keyes' animations (see, hear and speak no evil) as well as his relationship to Money the monkey. The fan translation went with his entire name sounding like "shy monkeys" but I can live with losing that as long as the general reference is kept. There's also still the connection to the game "Simon Says" fitting his manipulations throughout the game and using so many people as pawns. "Saint" is an ironic surname considering he's anything but though you could assume it's correct upon first meeting him. I'm not sure if it isn't a little too on the nose (oh, the character literally named "saint" is the big bad, surprise) but we'll see if new players say they suspected him more because of the name or not. Apart from that I really don't mind the name. The fan translation had "Keyes" be a reference to de Killer talking about a "key individual" in the 1st case so maybe the official translation will do something similar, that'd be neat! All in all, I like both names a lot and think they fit the character well.

Rocco Carcerato (for Jay Elbird): The only pun the fan translated name had was sounding similar to "jailbird" which is enough for a minor character but could definitely be improved upon. His official name sounds much more badass, fitting to a boxing prisoner, and even keeps the obvious pun with the surname just being "prisoner" in Italian. I'm not sure what "Rocco" is supposed to mean or reference (apart from sounding Italian as well) but I like how similar it is to "Rocky", the name of Elbird's polar bear pet companion in the fan translation.

Bodhidharma Kanis (for Sirhan Dogen): What a name! It definitely fits his Buddhist monk aesthetic with "Bodhidharma" being the name of a notable Chinese Buddhist monk. It also sounds like "bodily harm" which gets the assassin vibes across. "Kanis" is similar to the Latin word "canis" meaning "dog" fitting to his love for his specially trained dog. In the meaning department it matches pretty well with the fan translated name, "Sirhan" being the name of a famous assassin and "Dogen" having the word "dog" in it and also being the name of a notable Japanese Buddhist teacher. I honestly can't decide which one is better, I'm more used to the fan translated one so a bit biased towards it but the official name is great as well.

Fifi Laguarde (for Patricia Roland): Her fan translated name is a pun on "patrol" so, similar to Elbird, it works but could be better. Her official name goes in a similar direction with "Laguarde" being a variation of a French surname meaning "guard" (and also having that word in it). I assume her given name is meant to invoke her love for animals as "Fifi" reads like the typical name you'd give a dog or a pet in general. It reads really weird as a name for a person and I honestly prefer "Patricia" as a given name for her. Maybe "Fifi" could be a nickname? I'm probably gonna headcanon that (like for Eddie) as soon as I can think of a fitting full name it would work with. Her official surname is great though.

Overall, I like the new revealed names. In some aspects I still prefer the fan translated ones but in general they're mostly on par with them and some are arguably better. There are none that I really dislike or hate out of these ones and I'm very happy about that. I think they'll be easy to get used to.

[wolfertinger]

NGL as someone who's written warnings about people online before, I feel like some of your evidence is confusing and, particularly the art comparison part. The leaked chat records are pretty damning, but as for the art, it's unclear what art is attributed to the "wolftingz" identity and what is attributed to the "puppychan" identity.

People like me who hadn't heard of either identity before now (or have and just don't know much) might have trouble discerning what exactly to compare. For the record, I believe you are correct that they are the same person and have looked up the context of who puppychan is, but not everyone is willing or able to do the extra legwork to make sense of it.

If that's not a concern to you, that's fine and no need to pay attention to this ask. I just wanted to let you know that the information is kind of difficult to figure out.

this is very fair. thank you for the advice.

i do agree that the evidence can be confusing (none of this is compiled by me, but sourced from twitter reposts) but theres few places puppys art was successfully archived and i do not wish to put in more effort than is really needed. this account is not something i want to spend tons of time on. in fact the only reason i made this account was because i was upset with seeing mutuals and people i followed being friends with someone they denounced and made fun of when the initial pupkittyfan callout was posted.

maybe if puppy resurfaces (or more evidence is released) ill try to make a more coherent pic of evidence. but at the end of the day i really doubt people will care even if i showed them a screenshot of wolftingz saying "i used to be puppychan lolz". remember people were fine with puppy despite his suicide baiting and contact with minors until there was undeniable proof he was talking to a kid privately and inappropriately. and even THEN there are popular artists that continued being friends with him when they thought nobody was looking.

its frustrating for me personally who has seen the negative effects puppy has had on many young artists and his ex friends. i myself was a fan of puppy when i was younger and even defended him against people like antoons. i really wanted him to do better. i really did.

thank you again.

[notthesacrifice]

A YouTube Comment I left on the Old Wound music video. I doubt anyone's gonna see it there so I thought I'd share it here. If anyone has anything to correct me on pls lmk.

To the fans: It’s understandable that this upsets most of you, a fan-base of artists, or contrarians, or supporters -- not only are you not the demographic for this video, but you see the harm it causes. My concerns, then, are not to you. Nor are they to the A.I. advocates (this is a debate I considered dead and buried). My concerns are with the minority of loud opportunists: the same people who might continue to harass Bob Bryar on Twitter. I considered this behaviour dead and buried also. But it’s back, disgusting as it is, and doing nothing of use. The small minority must know that to rip and tear as they do only harms the points they wish to defend, but especially the band. (In particular, so I’ve seen, Frank. If there’s one demand I’d make: give Frank some fucking room. Your beloved anti-fascist lyricist of Leathermouth and anti-corporate singer of Death Spells is NOT transforming into an antisemitic, conservative libertarian. Goddam!) The arguments that are common sense to you (in defence of or attacking A.I.) are absolutely not so to others. You must talk to the others as though they are children. Not patronisingly, but as though they are naive. Disregard and do not respond to anything bad faith. All the “comment section grammar correction bile” hurts the band. So if not for each other, be civil for the band.

To the band: The video is out now. It doesn’t matter. From the moment the teaser was posted it didn’t matter if the full video was released or not — it existed, it was paid for, the fuse was lit. The upset and anger are not at the form or the content, it’s at the thought (or thoughtlessness) that preceded it. Its status as art is contentious, yes, but ultimately irrelevant to the core issue. We do not live in a world where safety nets exist for artists in any form, let alone when their existence (i.e. their careers and livelihoods) are threatened by automation. This is good technology. Undoubtedly the beginning of another technological revolution. But our objective conditions do not make it safe to use when it’s application necessitates a team of artists goes unpaid in favour of one individual.

Most importantly I would say: We don’t need to consider this moralistically. If A.I. art is truly art or not, if it’s stolen or not, if it’s tied to the NFT and crypto demographic or not, is all secondary. It doesn’t matter. Materially, this application is poor now. In a decade? Maybe not. But now, there is no protection or assurance for human artists. The tale of this field’s automation is the same as any other — it will be rejected en masse and held as immoral for as long as the material conditions leave the Replaced unprotected. Art is especially tricky in this sense, as for other occupations workers may only need to be financially compensated and assigned a new line of work, but artists do what they do out of love. It is not just work, it is a pastime. So not only do the artists need the financial compensation, but they CANNOT be relocated, and they need assurance they will never be made redundant in a world that demands money be made.

I don’t like this video. If it were a decade later, or another time when artists are protected, when A.I. is assuredly a tool and not a threat or talking point, I might enjoy it more. But for now, A.I. is unfortunately objectively bad for art. And that’s something we can only change by listening to the artists

[angelademille]

Penlight Public Release 0.1615.1: Delusion Storyline Expansion

Hi, everyone!

For this update I continued the writing I began last month, so we now have an ending of sorts to the new branch path of the Delusion storyline. I'm not totally satisfied with it and I may add a short epilogue scene later on, but it'll do for now while I turn my focus elsewhere.

We also have a new CG set for the Sleeper Agent storyline, which appears during the climactic scene. You can get there by taking the villainous path at the start, choosing "turn her into my unwitting spy" and then playing the story through to the weekend.

And that, besides some minor fixes, is that for this month. For next time I'll turn my attention to another unwritten story path (no, I haven't decided yet ^^;) and maybe finally I'll get a decent groove going with my writing efforts. See you then!

Download

Get this public release for free via my SubscribeStar, Patreon or Itch.io pages!

What's New

WRITING: New script added to the Delusion storyline for when Kyou agrees with the girls during the climactic scene

WRITING: Some minor tweaks to the Sleeper Agent script during the struggle scene

ART: New CG added for the Sleeper Agent struggle scene on the sixth day

FIX: Corrected a minor issue on one of the CGs for the Villainous Sleeper Agent storylines where Hiroko's mouth wasn't showing properly for some parts

FIX: Corrected a minor display bug during Sayori's Doll storyline where Akiko's armband was showing in the wrong place

Word count is now around 422,000

LOCALIZATION: Various edits and corrections to the existing Spanish script

Some typo and grammar corrections