#somebody better put 'em back into their place

[annebaby]

SAFE PLACE

hello everyone! i am back :) i have recently fell down the kate martin hole ( if you couldnt tell already) and decided to write. i have been working super hard in clinics and classes since you last heard from me, so i hope this isn't too rusty! love you guys!

warning: fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), making out, nipple play

i think that's it? let me know!

my divider is from here!

as i sat in my car with tears rolling down my face, i didn’t know who to call. the rain was pouring, a perfect parallel to the emotions flowing through my body. my vision blurred and my tears welled just thinking about it.

i had just been on a date. needless to say, it did not go well. i had been continuously let down by every man i deemed well enough for my attention. i guess i was just bad at picking ‘em out. 

it always ended the same way.

“wanna come to my place?”

“dtf?” 

“ohhh cmon. don’t be a prude.”

i couldn’t even gather my thoughts about the night as i scrolled through my contacts list. i was searching for somebody - anybody- that could provide me with any sort of comfort. however, i knew there was only one person who could make me feel better. 

kate martin. 

as much as i hated to say it, the girl had a comforting aura around her. something about her just drew me in every single time. imagine a bee to a flower or a moth to a flame - that was kate and me. 

our past was patchy, the ups and downs of our so-called “friendship” had blurred the lines for boundaries too easily. whether we’d end up making out, staying over, or doing much worse, each time would end with one of us being heartbroken. 

but i didn’t care right now. 

i needed her scent and her eyes. i needed her hands and i needed her mouth. 

i needed kate. 

my fingertips scrolled relentlessly to the bottom of my text messages, finding the abandoned chat from a month or two ago. 

tears splattered on my phone as i pressed the call button and brought it to my ear. 

it rang once. 

it rang twice. 

it rang three times.

“hello?” kate answers. 

“hey. kate im so sorry for calling you but i-,“ i stopped as tears continued to flow down my face. 

“you know my address. just come on over. it’s just me here.”

god kate, i could kiss you. 

“thank you,” i whispered. 

i hung up the phone and placed my forehead on the steering wheel. thoughts of another night with kate kept creeping into my mind. the good ones and the bad ones. 

nonetheless, i put my car and drive and headed her way. 

every time i thought the tears were done, another pool of them welled in my eyes. every time i thought about my past few dates, my heart felt a pang of sadness. 

i tried to push the tears and thoughts away as i reach kate’s apartment door, but my pathetically light knocking reminded me of how sad i really was. 

i stood in front of her door for a few seconds, trying to keep it together until i was in the comfort of her home. 

i heard the lock clicking and the door opened. kate stood there, worry filling her eyes and her face full of pity. 

i looked up at her, letting the tears fall down my cheeks as she pulled me into her apartment and engulfed me in a hug. her arms squeezed around my waist as mine wrapped around the back of her neck. i cried into her, tears staining her iowa t shirt. 

“im so sorry for calling you,” i sobbed, backing out of her embrace. i wiped my eyes with my hands, trying any attempt to get rid of the nonstop tears. 

“i know we said we’d never do this again. i’m so sorry i just didn’t know who else to call-“ i was cut short as kate held my face and gently kissed me. 

i placed my hands on her waist, my body savoring everything about her. the kiss was soft and sweet, full of love. there was no hunger or sinister desire about it - just pure comfort and affection. 

my eyes fluttered open as she moved back, her thumb wiping a falling tear off my cheek. 

she gently smiled and looked at me with her bright blue eyes. 

“you and i both know that we need each other more than we let on,” she said, sighing. 

i leaned into her hand, my heart finally feeling at ease. she stroked my face with her thumb before pulling me into another hug and kissing me lovingly on my head. 

she led me over to her couch with her hand on the small of my back. 

“before i ask you to be my girlfriend, tell me all about the horrible date you went on.”

i paused, stopping in my tracks. kate turned me to face her, her hands moving to my hips. she smiled at me before speaking again. 

“i know things have been rough between us ; on both ends.” 

her hands move to cup my face as she brings me closer. 

“but i cant seem to get you off my mind. ever.”

now, i seemed to notice how good she looked. her hair was down, her eyes wide as she stared into my own. 

i smiled up at her as tears kept falling from my eyes. she leaned in slowly and kissed me. the kiss was sweet. it was filled with love and care and tenderness, everything she felt in her heart. 

all for me. 

i kissed her back slowly, feeling the despair and sadness in my heart melt away. she was so warm, so comforting. her fingers slid into the back of my jean pockets as she breathed in through her nose. 

my hands hesitantly wrapped around her neck, tangling in the roots of her hair. 

then suddenly, she was everywhere. gripping my ass, attacking my mouth with her tongue and pulling my body impossibly closer to her. 

i broke the kiss quickly, looking at her wide-eyed. was this really something that we should be doing? 

i pushed the thought out of my head hurriedly, the impulsiveness of her actions sending heat straight between my legs. then, she leaned down and began to kiss me again. she gently put her hands on my waist and backed me into her room.

she flipped me around and pressed me against the door-shutting it. her hands were traveling everywhere fast. she was on my waist, my breasts, my ass, etc. you name it and she was there. 

i gasped out quietly as she began to leave sloppy kisses on my neck. i leaned my neck back, allowing her more access. she grinned against my skin.

“no man,-” she panted.

“will ever,-” she said, her fingers tugging on the bottom seam of my shirt. she leans in to continue kissing me.

she pulls my shirt off smoothly, her fingers digging into the exposed skin on my waist,

“make you-“ she kisses me again.

“feel like-“

her hands reach around to the clasps of my bra, her mouth moving to my neck. 

she takes my bra off effortlessly, the material falling to her floor along with my shirt.

‘-this.” 

her eyes travel down to my breasts. 

i reach for her shirt seam as well pulling it over her head, i notice her sports bra and her toned abdomen. my fingertips trace up the sides of her body and swear i felt my mouth watering. 

as if something snapped in me, i push kate’s shoulders until her legs hit her bed and she sits down. i crawl on top of her, sitting in her lap. 

“you’re so pretty, kate,” i whisper.

she smiles and brings her hand to the back of my head, pulling my lips to hers. 

i open my mouth invitedly, her tongue slipping in and fighting for dominance with my own. the fight for control caused kate to moan in my mouth. her hips buck up against mine, the friction causing me to tug on her hair.

“you like that?” she whispers against my lips. our noses touch and i open my eyes, looking straight at her. i nod my head frantically, encouraging her to keep going. her hands grip my hips, holding me down against her thigh. she starts to move my body back and forth, grinding my body against her thigh.

the friction is enough to make me throw my head back, and i feel her grip me tighter. 

“god you’re so perfect,” she whispers. then, she stands up and switches us so she’s on top of me. 

she’s quickly unbuttoning my jeans, wasting no time on teasing. 

“damn, kate. are you excited or what?” i ask, laughing. 

she looks up at me, staring me in my eyes. 

“i haven’t tasted you in months.”

i don’t respond, instead i lift my hips up so she can pull down my jeans and underwear. im completely naked under her, something she’s admitted she likes before.

she crawls up my body, my legs parting and wrapping around her as she leans down to kiss my breasts. she kitten licks one of my nipples, her other hand harshly groping the other breast. my back arches due to the pleasure, a pornographic moan escaping my lips. 

i feel her teeth slightly graze my nipple again before she switches sides. i can practically feel myself pooling between my legs. 

she slowly licks down my torso, stopping to give me kisses on my inner thighs. i can tell she’s leaving hickeys, another thing she likes to do. 

“kate stop it,” i plead. i needed her now. 

my hips bucked upwards, her hands aggressively holding me down as she placed a singular kiss on my pubic bone, then another on the spot where i needed her most. 

i look down at her, her blue eyes already staring into mine. her tongue darted out, hardly grazing me.

i snap my head back, my thighs subconsciously trapping her head. 

then, she moves one of her hands from around my thighs, and she slips a finger into me. 

before i can even make a sound, she begins to eat me out and fuck me with her finger at the same time, adding a second. 

i moaned her name, my face scrunching up with pleasure. 

“kate ohmygod,” i breathed.

she moved her head from side to side, my pleasure increasing tenfold - if that was even possible. 

she took my ankles and set them both on her shoulders, pulling me closer against her in the process. i knew she could tell i was close. she started moving faster and curling her fingers inside of me.

“kate please,” i begged. i didn’t even know what i was asking for. she felt so good. 

i felt her hum against me, completely sending me over the edge. pleasure ripped through me as my stomach twitched as i came down from my high. her hands moved to my hips again, holding me down as she cleaned me up with her mouth. 

i stayed laying flat on her bed as she crawled on top of me. she took her fingers and placed them in my mouth. i sucked on them, tasting myself. 

she smiled wide and licked the mess off her lips.

“you wanna be my girlfriend?"

[5iyoomi]

How The Haikyuu Boys Kiss You ━ Part 2

characters: Sugawara, Shirabu, Semi, Akaashi

warnings: all fluff with a touch of hurt/comfort in Sugawara's 🙏 gender neutral reader here as well

A/N: I'm totally not procrastinating making my masterlists (I don't have much on here yet so it's fine right? right.) but anyways I've had so many ideas lately which is crazy cuz almost all of what I usually write is like mlm x characters. I barely touch x readers myself but I love reading em'. Making a blog in the middle of a deep hyperfixation will do wonders like that cuz I've been writing smth practically every day LOL.... sorry if this one's shorter/sorta all over the place

Part 1 | Word Count: 1,170

‎

Sugawara Koushi

His kisses are definitely short and sweet (like Hinata) but they're passionate

He's probably the most experienced of the boys or at least comes off that way, he knows what to do and how to do it

He's pretty feather-light with his touches, so much so that you don't even register they're there half the time

But you like how they ground you in the moment

Sugawara's also the kind of guy to kiss your tears away, relishing in how your eyelashes flutter while he flashes you a comforting smile that he saves for you in your more vulnerable moments

"Everything's gonna be alright, okay? I'm here for you"

He'll usually kiss you when you least expect it, rambling on about something you're interested in or something before he leans in

Your words get caught in your throat when he does, but he doesn't let it linger, so you're just left blinking in surprise with a visible question mark floating over the top of your head

He must be able to tell cuz he laughs a little

It leaves you wanting more, so he never complains if you ask for another or take the initiative and give him one right back

He has a tendency to place his hand atop yours or on your knee/thigh when you kiss

He also likes when you kiss his cheek, right where his birthmark is. It tickles since it's by his eye, but it makes him feel closer to you

Sweet but super shameless, if somebody sees you and you get fidgety he'll tell you there's nothing to be embarrassed about

"So? It's fine if people talk. We're dating, aren't we?"

Needless to say you stopped caring so much after that

Shirabu Kenjirou

ANOTHER UNDERRATED KING

"He's mean/annoying" DON'T EVEN JOKE LAD

Anyways....

He's not allergic to PDA but he won't entertain it at first

Like at all

It's not cuz he doesn't want to, but he gets really shy about it

As his first partner, you're naturally his first kiss too, so he has no idea what he's doing

He's scared you'll make fun of him, so when the perfect moment arises and he turns his head at the last second, you have to face him and tell him that his inexperience doesn't matter to you

You won't laugh or poke fun at him, you respect his feelings and always will

He's less apprehensive if it's also your first, but it's still a hurdle you have to overcome

He's probably a little blunt especially when it comes to affection, he says the exact opposite of what he means 80% of the time

"I can do it myself" = he wants help but doesn't know how to ask for it

"I know that, idiot" = he's silently thankful you didn't brush him aside, that you looked past that composed facade he puts on sometimes and brought him out of it

Once that's out of the way and he feels like he can be more open with what he wants, he recloses the distance between you

It's messy and stilted, but neither of you mind. He just wants to be near you

He's so touch starved it's insane, you'll hold his hand or touch his face and he literally freezes up

If you didn't know any better, you'd think it was because he didn't like it, but you know he wants to, he's just really awkward. He has a lot of difficulty with asking for physical touch

Did I mention touch starved?

He pushes away from you if somebody sees, even if you guys aren't kissing

"You didn't see anything" he says to whoever it is, and you chuckle, ruffling his hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead

You can see his brain short-circuit in real time when you do :>

Semi Eita

Tendou would absolutely tease him for it but he has the biggest soft spot for you

You'd be at one of their games holding up a sign with his name on it or cheering the loudest for him and Tendou makes a mental note to mess with Semi later (much to the shorter boy's dismay)

Tendou's a MENACE

But anyway

His kisses are pretty similar to Sugawara's, but they last for longer

Light, passionate kisses with his hands on your lower back or two fingers gently tilting your chin up if you're shorter than him

They might get deeper, they might not. It just depends on how you react and how he's feeling (he never wants to accidentally push you into anything)

But once he's got you, he doesn't wanna let you go

He gives them out sparingly, more of a words of affirmation person, but he likes how much you smile against him when he does

He's surprisingly pretty doting on his partner, so if you grab his wrist when he moves to catch his breath, 9 times out of 10 he'll yield to your touch

"Not yet..." oh BOY he's whipped. He'd only say no if you both actually had to be somewhere or he starts to get sick of the stares thrown his way that are mostly from Tendou and Shirabu

He has you wrapped around his finger just as much as you've got him wrapped around yours

If he isn't kissing you on your lips, then he'll bring your hand to his mouth and kiss your knuckles/fingers

It reminds you of a prince from one of those old fairy tales <3

Akaashi Keiji

When it comes down to initiation with him, it's kinda 50/50

Akaashi's the kind of person to get explicit consent before doing anything and on top of that he can read people pretty easily, especially people he knows well

So if he senses any apprehension he'll stop or give you a quick peck on your cheek instead

But if you lean into him, lips puckered and a wordless plea in your eyes, he doesn't have any reason to refuse

(On the flip side, I don't think he minds random kisses or hugs from you, but he appreciates if you ask too)

His kisses are soft and loving, the kind that leave you feeling warm and floaty for a few minutes afterwards

They're always purposeful too, kisses after an accomplishment or during one of your dates

But sometimes he does just wanna kiss you cuz you look pretty/handsome

Your lips curl up, eyes lightly squinted in a display of happiness as you look at him like he's as beautiful as the stars

And it's then that he gets that urge

He's more embarrassed about being seen or walked in on. He probably wouldn't wanna keep going, so most of your kisses in public are short (but still equally sweet)

He keeps his hands above your shoulders, or he holds your own, giving them the occasional gentle squeeze

He swipes a thumb across your cheek and presses a parting kiss to the corner of your mouth, bright eyes saying more than he ever could

He loves you, he really does

[prettyboyjohnny]

JOHNNY VOICE LINE TRANSCRIPT 🥩

I wrote these out a long time ago but never posted them anywhere! Based on [x].

>Nancy's voicelines<

Notes:

• I could've copied the game subtitles, but I didn't 'cause they suck.

• I haven't played enough Johnny to know where some of these lines start and end. Please let me know if I've made any mistakes in that regard!

• I was gonna include tone indicators, but tone is subjective. No one wants me to mark the Feed Grandpa voice lines as "Flirty."

Thanks!

VOICELINES

Encounter Start

Now look at this! Somebody's ready to fight!

This is gonna end... Very badly for you.

Yeah-ha-ha! Oh, that's it! Hit me...

Imma gut every single one of y'all! [Inhales, laughs under breath] Come on... Come on!

Exit interaction

Nobody leaves until I say so!

Ain't nobody leavin' just yet!

Got it.

Nobody's leavin' alive! Y'all not fast enough! ... Good try, though.

Feed Grandpa

Get your fill, old man.

It always tastes best when it's fresh, don't it?

Here you go, old man.

You're lookin' better already... Now help us!

Oh, you're thirsty today.

Victim found

HA HA! It's playtime!

Heh heh, it's playtime...

Hahahaha, I always find 'em!

You should know better than that! ... Come on out, now.

Hey there! [Laughs]

Well! Look who we got here! [Laughs]

Hit victim

Oh! Now I got ya!

Yeah! Take it! Take it!

It's better if you die right quick! Trust me!

This would be simpler if you would sit still!

Yeah! You gonna be leakin' after that hit.

Idle

Nobody escapes me.

How the hell did those kids find us? [Sighs] I should've been more careful.

If Grandpa was able, this would be over by now... I better go feed him.

Damn it, Johnny... Get your head straight! Come on, now!

I gotta fix this... Now!

Cook seen

I'd watch that tongue of yours, old man... It might go missin' one day.

I thought you knew how to run this household... THIS is a mess!

Damn it, old man! Put those ears of yours to use already!

Where are they?! How the hell did they get loose?! I can't fix this by myself, old man.

Stop barkin' orders at me! You ain't gonna like the results.

Hitchhiker seen

Surround the property with some of those traps already! This is getting outta hand fast!

You're one shifty little sumbitch... I'll give you that. [Laughs]

How you make those weird ass traps of yours, anyway?

Would you. Settle. The Hell. Down already. You're scattering all over the dang place. We gotta focus!

Grandpa is gonna tan our hides if we let them get away. Spread out!

Leatherface seen

That's it, boy... Go kill someone now.

Go on, put that saw to use, big boy! What're you waitin' on?

If I were you, I'd go and check out Grandpa. We're gonna need his help!

Let's go now, boy! Grandpa ain't gonna be too pleased if you let them escape.

Just get outta my way, boy... I'll show you how real killin's done.

Sissy seen

Are you gonna help me out, or just stand there lookin' pretty?

If it ain't askin' too much, before you go and run off again, would you mind helpin' me out?

Before you go runnin' off with those back-house hippies again... Can you PLEASE find these damn kids?!

Sissy, what the hell're you waitin' on? Get to it!

Sissy... Are you even listenin' to me? What's goin' on in that head of yours?! Damn!

Lose enemy first

Aww, you leavin' so soon?

It's alright, big boy's gonna be wearing your face soon enough... After I'm done with you, that is. [Laughs]

You know... I was actually kinda fond of that girl, I-I didn't really wanna hurt 'er... But, as they say... Family first, y'know?

You ever watch someone die? Oh... You ain't never quite the same after that, lemme tell ya.

Ohohoh, you can run all you want... It ain't gonna matter much longer.

Lose enemy sub

[Scoffs] You're all gurgle and no guts! I thought you were tougher than that!

I'm gonna find you... I will! I promise!

You wanna know how your friend died? I can show you!

L-Listen now! E-Everybody's time comes eventually!

The bad man's in me... And you gonna meet 'im real soon!

Lose enemy long

Your little friend put up a better fight than this... Come on... Make it interesting, will ya?!

They always try to hide... It's always the same game... [Laughs]

You folks don't know who you messin' with! Nobody ever gets away from me.

You're just delayin' the inevitable! YOU HEAR ME?

Come on out now, let's play.

I got plenty of space in the cold room for you.

Match start

It's time. [Chuckles] Seems they've got some fight in 'em after all.

I knew I should've handled this myself... I'll fix it.

That's what I get for taking it easy on them. Time for them to join that little friend of theirs.

See blood trail

Oh, this is gonna be easy.

Hey, you okay? You seem to have lost a bit of blood!

Now... let's see where you scurried off to.

You know... Bleedin' like that ain't gonna help your cause!

Don't bleed out on me yet! I need you awake!

See enemy first

Don't worry. I like it when they run.

Look, you're gonna want this to end fast. Trust me on that.

Well, don't run! I just wanna see how it feels.

There you are! [Chuckles] You kinda remind me of your little friend.

See enemy sub

This is pointless, you know. Quit stallin'.

Don't worry... I'll find ya.

[Growls] I'm gonna see your insides before this night's through!

Oh, you ain't gettin' away! I'm keepin' you.

Come on back, now.

Got something I wanna show you! [Laugh]

See family member

Well! Look who decided to lend a hand!

Check the doors and generator. We can't let them leave. You hear me?

Y'all need to start pullin' your weight around here. This is gettin' old!

Grandpa's gonna be in a fit if we let them escape. Start searchin'!

Would y'all... Help me already. PLEASE!

See trapped victim

We gotcha! [Laughs]

You ready to meet the bad man?

You got one!

Looks like you might be hurtin'. Might wanna be watchin' where you're steppin'.

[Laughs]

See victim escape

Maybe I can still catch 'em. Yeah, down by the tracks.

Damn... They're free... For now.

This isn't gonna be good.

Damn it, Johnny! [Scoffs] ... The old man's gonna be riled up now.

Use ability blocked

Ain't no tracks here...

Nah... got nothin'.

Better wait a minute.

Not quite yet ... [Inhales] Almost ready.

Use ability

Time to play. Now... Where did you go?

I'll find ya. Don't you worry about that.

Go ahead and hide... It ain't gonna matter.

Where'd y'all run off to?

Use ability success

[Hums] ... There you are.

They always leave a trail. Always so careless. [Chuckles, inhales] ... This is too easy.

I'm on your tail now!

Execution

You're gonna look real nice... Next to that friend of yours!

That's it... Die for me!

This... Is only gonna hurt... For a minute!

You should've never came here lookin' for that girl!

You ain't gettin' away! I'm keepin' you!

[Last edited March 2024]

[tinyfishtits]

You Are Redeemed

Micah Bell / Female Reader

Summary: Reader convinces Micah to join her on a job robbing a homestead. Things do not go as planned... Rating: Mature; Graphic Depictions of Violence Word Count: 5,339 Tags: Light Angst, First Kiss

Authors Note: Contains minor spoilers for a special encounter in the game, if you care about that. This was SO FUN to write, hope ya'll ike it. ★ Read on AO3 ★ ☆ Masterlist ☆

I sat on the outskirts of camp, watching as the sun slowly sank behind the mountains, painting the landscape in shades of pink and lavender. Though my peace was short lived as someone walked toward where I rested on the cliff's edge. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. 

“Dutch’s bitch returns.” I said, taking a hit of my cig as Micahs heavy steps neared. “Shut up and give me one of those.” He demanded, taking a seat next to me. I pulled the pack from my pocket and chucked it into his lap. 

“What, would you prefer the prodigal son? ” He just grunted in response and lit his cigarette. “Well aren’t you in a good ole’ mood.” I murmured under my breath. 

“You wanna talk, sweetheart?” He drew a long puff and sank back onto his elbows, waving a dismissive hand at me “Go ahead.”

I crinkled my nose at the pet name. Flinging the butt of my cigarette off the cliff side and lighting another, I asked “Whatchu doin’ tomorrow?” He raised an eyebrow, glancing sidelong at me, “No .” Was all he said. 

“You don’t even know what I’m about t-” 

“Find somebody else.” His voice was flat and words final, “Camps full of idiots, I'm sure one of ‘em will go on whatever fools errand you got this time.” 

“You’re not even the least bit curious?” 

“ No .” He said, tone already laced in annoyance. I went quiet for a moment, thinking of a way to entice him. 

“I’d split the take with you, fifty fifty.” 

“ God woman! I’m not even back an hour and you’re already trying to get me killed?” 

“Fine.” I spat back at him, “ I’ll just do it myself… Asshole.” I got up and stormed off back to camp, Micah's half hearted yell of my name his only response. I wasn’t sure the job could even be done alone, but to hell if I was gonna grovel with him over it. His ego was big enough. 

I was already kicking myself for being so soft by the time I reached my tent. I knew we weren’t friends or nothin’... But I’d been planning this robbery all month, waiting for him to show his face at camp to tell him about it and he just couldn't have cared less. I didn’t want to admit how much it hurt, how much I stupidly yearned for that asshole's praise.

It wasn’t until late next morning that Micah appeared beside me as I readied my horse for the ride. “Where do you think you’re goin’?” He drawled, leaning against the hitching post as I mounted my horse. 

“Don’t you got better things to do than babysit me?” I hissed, “Like sittin’ on your ass all day?” My voice still heavy with venom from our encounter last night. 

I knew I really had no reason to be so mad, I had put us both in danger on jobs before. But so had he! For every job that went bad from my lack of experience, he completely blew out of proportion with his lack of self control. And it’d been months since our last robbery, I’d improved a lot since, not that he was around or cared to notice.

“Hey now,” he lifted his hands in surrender, “I come with a peace offering.” I just rolled my eyes. “Give me your hand.” 

“What? No-” I started but he interjected, “Stop bein’ stubborn and give it here!” He yanked my hand from the horn of my saddle and placed a long leather sheath into it. 

“A knife?” I whispered, turning it over in my hand. Unsheathing it I almost gasped. The black blade was decorated with the most intricate engraving of flowers and herons and inlaid with what looked to be gold. 

“Why…?” Was all I could muster in response. 

“Before you go gettin’ all sentimental, I stole it off someone while robbing a stagecoach a few days ago. Thought maybe you could use one.”

“But it's-” Beautiful, expensive, worth more than my rifle… “don’t you wanna sell it?” 

“Well if you don’t like it give it back and I will.” His temper shot up a bit. I knew he wasn’t used to gifting people things, and hell, I wasn’t used to receiving them. 

“Thank you.” I said finally, “I like it.” 

“Okay then.” He grunted as he turned away and mounted Baylock. “Now, you gonna tell me about this job or what?” 

I tried to hide my surprise and relief at his sudden willingness to accompany me on a job he knew nothing about. I truly had been preparing myself for the worst case scenario of going at it alone. Not wanting to delude myself into thinking that his change of heart could be at all for my sake, I shook the thought from my mind and the building blush from my cheeks. He was just in it for the money… I had promised him half the take in my desperation, after all. 

“You spend much time out in Lemoyne?” I started, catching up with him as we trotted down the path out of camp. He nodded. “Some.”

“Well there’s a farm out there with this couple, been runnin’ a shine business out their house. Figure they got a good stash somewhere in there.”

“You figure? ” The skepticism in his tone made my brow furrow. He’d done more for less. Why he was so intent on giving me a hard time over the others in camp, I had no idea. 

“Well if there aint a lot of cash, we could always steal the shine. I figure that's a pretty safe bet.” 

He just hummed in acknowledgement. For Micah, any response not laced in mockery was a good one. “What do you want me to do?” He asked. 

“The couple, well… They’re kinda odd.” I started, trying to piece together the best way to pitch my idea. Micah just raised a brow at me, waiting for the rest of the story. “Bill and Arthur both had run-ins with them. Said they gave ‘em a bad feeling. Seems they um… like invitin’ men in for dinner.” 

“Well if they scared big ole Bill and Morgan they must be terrifying.” His words dripped with sarcasm. Hook, line, sinker. All it took for Micah to be in on a job was the chance to prove himself more capable than his fellow gang members, especially Arthur. 

“So you’ll do it?” I prodded, “Distract them, I mean. While I loot the house?”  “Sure sweetheart. If you ask nicely.” 

It took every last bit of self control not to spit back at him. “ Please” I forced out through gritted teeth. He shot me a cocky smirk. “And don’t go shootin’ the place up neither. I’d like to do this clean and quiet for once.” I added. 

“You got it boss.” He joked, but the smugness sank a bit from his expression. Always the trigger happy gunslinger. 

Our ride through the Heartlands was quiet, neither of us being too keen on small talk. The weather over head was nice, cloudy but still warm and dry. That was more than I could say for what we were headed toward. A nasty lookin’ grey sky loomed in the distance.

By the time we reached Emerald Ranch it was pouring. I cursed myself for not bringing a jacket, my simple cotton button up was soaked after just a minute in the downpour. I wrapped myself up in the blanket I had stored on my saddle in an attempt to ward off the chill the storm brought with it, much to Micahs amusement. 

He let out a howl of laughter, “You look like a washed up Nun! Should I start callin’ you sister?” 

“Shutup!” I replied, having to yell over the noise of pounding rain and cracking thunder, “Take a right here, we’re almost there.” 

The foliage grew denser the closer we got, an eerie feeling lingering in the darkness of the forest stretched out before us. I pushed it back, trying to clear my brain for the job ahead. I’d never been good with storms, that deep-seated childhood fear of thunder and lightning never having left me. It’ll help cover any noise you make, I tried to convince myself, wash away any tracks if things go sour and they come lookin’ for you .  

Pulling off the road just shy of the path that rounded up the hill to the homestead, I hitched my horse and waved Micah over. “I’ll go on foot from here. Once you’re inside I’ll start lookin’.” He nodded, the water collecting on his hat cascaded off with every slight movement, I could barely make out his face through the mini waterfall it created. 

“Alright.” He drawled, nudging Baylock up the path. His dark, leather-cloaked form shimmered with water even in the darkness below the tree’s dense canopy, and then he was gone. 

I abandoned my makeshift cloak and trudged up the muddy hillside, Micah’s knife and my revolver the only weapons on my hip. By the time the house was visible through the trees, Micah was hitching Baylock and talking to someone on the porch. The closer I got to the treeline I could make out the forms in the darkness. A large man dressed in overalls was waving Micah in when someone else joined them on the porch. A woman by the looks of her large skirt. 

I made my way to the side of the house with a crudely built add-on, which was really saying something, the whole place seemed like it could collapse at any moment. The small shed had no windows, no light spilled out from the door, it was the safest bet for where they’d stash the shine. 

Running out from the cover of the trees I reached the shed door, fully expecting I’d have to break the lock. But when I got out my pick to start working on it the door creeped open from my touch alone. Either they were really stupid, or… The place was empty. My heart sank as I scanned the small room for anything of value, nothing. There were old shine brewing canisters in the corner but they looked like they hadn’t been used in a good decade. Fuck. I cursed myself, knowing Micah would never let me live this down. Though he would probably juice the story up just to rub it in Arthur's face. 

I was rummaging through a tool box for any hidden valuables when a large THUMP sounded on the other side of the wall. Sighing, I readied myself for the ribbing I was about to get and rounded the house to the back door. “I thought we agreed to keep this one quiet-” I started as I entered the house, fully expecting to see the bodies of the couple on the floor. But instead found Micah, strewn out lifelessly still in the middle of the room.

“Micah?” I breathed, shock freezing me in place at the sight of him so… helpless. 

“What do we have here honey pie?” A large man asked from across the room, looking my wet, trembling figure over with a sick kind of hunger. He was dressed in nothing but a wethered pair of overalls that could barely contain the skin spilling out from it. Seeing him up close set a new kind of fear coursing through me. He was so fucking big! There was no way I'd be able to fight my way out of this. 

The woman he talked to was crouching over Micah’s body, hands greedily rifling through his pockets. It was when she touched his revolver that the adrenaline finally hit me and before I could even process that I'd grabbed my own gun, I was emptying my cylinder into the man’s chest. Six shots later and the mountain of a man was still barreling toward me, a guttural roar ripping through the house. 

I stumbled back, practically falling out the door I’d come through as I tried to put as much distance between us as possible. Jumping over the stair railing I landed on a pile of chopped wood and saw it, an axe resting against the house. Gripping it just as the man came crashing out the back door, I pivoted on my heels, swinging the blade smack into the giant’s neck. 

He floundered forward, a grotesque gurgling erupting from his mouth as blood sputtered from the gash on his neck and he fell to his knees at the foot of the stairs. I just watched as the fight slowly faded from his huge, convulsing form and he sunk to the mud with one final twitch. Pulling the axe from his neck, I made my way back up the stairs, rage bubbling in my veins at whatever these sick sons of bitches were trying to pull. 

But all feeling drained out of me when I opened the door to the woman pointing Micahs revolver at his head. 

“Put the axe down.” She demanded, her tone disconcertingly calm until she spotted the blood. “Bray? Honey?” Her voice cracked, yelling for him again. “Bray!?”

“He’s dead.” Was all I said, my voice flat and lifeless, I could barely recognize it as my own. 

I could practically see the hysteria wash over her as she pointed the gun at me and started firing erratically, screaming at the top of her lungs. “YOU BITCH!” 

I rushed her, sprinting through the gunfire and knocking her to the ground, the gun thrown from her hand at the impact. She thrashed beneath me, her hands clawing at every part of me she could reach. “Stop!” I yelled back, grabbing her wrists and pushing them to the ground. Even restrained she was trying to buck me off of her, her legs kicking wildly behind me. “STOP!” I repeated. 

I didn’t want to kill her. But she was making mercy seem pretty damn distasteful the more she screamed and squirmed. “Where’s the money?” I demanded, my voice too breathless to sound as menacing as I’d hoped. She just spat in my face. Reflexively, I reached up to wipe the glob of mucus away and she took the opportunity to headbutt me. 

I fell back with a gasp and when I looked up, she was coming at me with a knife. I tried getting to my feet but she was too fast. She jumped on me, slashing at my extended arms as I screamed. Lifting the knife above her head for a final deathly blow, I used all my strength to push myself up and wrap myself around her. Tackling her back to the ground we writhed around, a blur of clawing, slashing and screaming as we wrestled for the knife. 

She dug a finger into one of the fresh slashes on my arm and I shot back like I'd been electrocuted. Rising to her feet, knife in hand, she screamed down at me, “YOU’RE GONNA PAY FOR-” I lunged at her, the hunting knife Micah had gifted me unsheathed, and drove it into her abdomen. Her scream sputtered off into incoherent murmurings as she fell to her knees, my blade still inside her. 

“Tell me.” I pleaded between panting breaths, “Where’s the money?” Her wide eyes met mine, glossy but still so full of that manic rage. “Momma?” She whispered, her hands grasping at my forearms as she tried to stay upright. And then, with a single rasping breath, she collapsed at my feet with one last soft cry for her mother. 

Hot tears streamed down my cheeks as I stood frozen, bloodied blade still stretched out before me. “Micah?” I called out, my voice barely a whisper. But the house stayed eerily silent. I fell to the floor beside him and frantically shook at his limp body. Nothing. “MICAH!” I yelled, taking his face in my hands and lowering my ear to his mouth, then his heart. I couldn’t tell if it was my own heart pounding in my ears or if he truly was alive, but for the moment it was enough to kick my scattered brain into action. 

Grabbing him by the ankles I started to drag his body toward the front door. The blood from the slashes on my arm dripped down, coating my hands in sticky warmth as I struggled to keep my grip on the slick leather of his boots. “ Jesus,” I grunted, almost falling to my ass as I lost my grip on him, “You’re heavier than you look.” I mumbled. It was a jeer that would usually prompt one of his snarky remarks, making the silence that followed even more unsettling. 

Making it to the door, I swung it open and whistled for Baylock. “Come here boy.” He huffed and reared as I dragged Micah out on the porch and tried maneuvering him more carefully down the steps. “Shhh.” I hushed as I reached out to comfort the horse, obviously just as distressed at the sight of Micah passed out as I was. “Hush now, I need you to help me out here.” I said, stroking his mane and guiding him to lay down so I could get Micah in the saddle. 

It took a lot of coaxing both of Baylock and my own strength, to get Micah and all his dead weight in that saddle. But after a few sweaty, breathless minutes, it was done. With Micah securely slumped on the saddle I rushed back in the house to grab his revolver, and that's when I saw it. 

In the chaos of it all I hadn’t stopped to really look around the house. It was just as dilapidated as the exterior, dirty and sparse. Though the one thing that really stood out was the large portrait of a woman right across from the front door, the only decoration in the whole house. “What are the chances…” I muttered to myself, reaching for the painting. 

Concealed behind it was a hole in the wall filled with cash. A laugh of pure disbelief burst out of me as I took in the wads of bills and gold bars. Quickly fetching Micahs satchel I stuffed it full of the loot, all the while sobbing and laughing like a maniac at the pure absurdity of the whole thing. 

Not wanting to linger in the house of horrors longer than need be, I quickly retrieved Micah's stolen possessions from the woman's corpse and got the hell out of there. Getting behind Micah on the saddle I held him with one arm and took the reins in the other, guiding Baylock down to where my horse still waited patiently at the end of the path. 

“Come on girl, follow me.” I yelled to her. Her head shot up from where she grazed and she obediently trotted to my side as I led us away from the homestead. The downpour had mercifully subsided to a drizzle, though the land would be a mud pit for a good day at least. I considered riding all the way back to camp, but I wasn’t in good shape myself. There was no way I'd be able to hold Micah and keep myself upright for the cross-state trek back to Horseshoe Overlook. 

With all the cash I had now, I debated going into Rhodes and getting a room. Though Micah’s unconscious state was sure to attract more questions than I cared to invite, especially with all the money I had on me. So I settled for a short jaunt up the road toward Emerald Ranch, leading the horses off the path a bit until I found a clearing suitable for a small make-shift camp. 

I hadn’t anticipated being away from camp more than a few hours, but it seemed Micah always kept enough supplies on him to get him through the night if need be, so I began to set things up. Laying his bedroll out, I tried easing Micah off the saddle, only to have him crash into me and pin me in the mud. I coughed, rasping for breath as I tried wriggling out from beneath him. It was like being stuck under a cow, the man was deceptively dense. 

I pushed at his shoulder, my arms burning with the strain, the wounds that had just started scabbing popping open and bleeding once more. After a few agonizing minutes I managed to roll him off of me enough to get myself free. We were both caked in mud from the fall, Micah's golden hair so dirty it was almost black now. 

Everything else was easy, mindless work in comparison to the day i’d had. Building a fire, setting up the tent, cracking open a can of food for dinner. Hopeful he’d wake up before nightfall, I’d cooked him a can of beans as well… and when he didn’t, I scarfed those down too. I was exhausted. Every inch of my body was in some kind of pain. Slashed, bruised, sore. I tended to the knife wounds on my arms the best I could, nabbing a bit of a health cure Micah had in his satchel to fight off infection. And now I just, waited. 

Crouching beside Micah in the tent, I carefully removed his jacket and shirt. I had no idea what they did to knock him out so heavily, but I wanted to at least make sure he hadn’t been stabbed or shot. Running my hands through his hair, I felt no bumps or blood, so I ruled out concussion. His chest, stomach, and what I could reach of his back was also unscathed. If I didn’t know any better I’d say he was just sleeping. His chest rose and fell with slow, even breaths. His eyes even fluttered beneath his lashes every so often, like he was dreaming. Not knowing what more there was to do I just began washing the mud off him with my still soaked blanket, and prayed to god he wouldn’t choose this moment to wake up, he’d call me a bath maid for the rest of my goddamn life. 

Once he was clean and my blanket sufficiently muddied, I threw it out of the tent and sank back on the bedroll beside him. Micah, being the human furnace he was, didn’t travel with a blanket of his own. And even though we were in the bayou, the storm had brought with it a ferocious wind that made the night painfully chill. Drifting off, I found myself edging closer and closer to Micah’s warm body, until halfway through the night I was completely wrapped around him. He still did not stir, and I figured I’d much rather take whatever possible teasing this would get me if he woke up now than shiver to death a few feet away. 

Cuddled up to Micahs side, I fell into the most blissful sleep I’d had in years. I did not stir for the rest of the night, only beginning to wake when the sun shone down through the tree canopy and the chorus of birds and bugs filled the forest with their music. “Mornin’” a soft, gravely voice vibrated under my ear. 

“Morning.” I yawned, my head still in a sleepy haze as I stretched and came to. A deep rumbling vibrated once more beneath me and I shot up. Micah's chuckles turned to shallow coughs as he gazed up at me, a smug smile on his lips. “You’re awake!” I practically yelled, throwing my arms around him. “Thank god you’re not dead” I mumbled into his bare chest, “you scared the shit out of me!”

“You sure I ain't dead darlin’?” He drawled, wrapping a large arm around my back, keeping me pressed against him. “Never thought in all my life I’d hear someone thank god I was alive.” 

“What happened back there? The hell did they do to you?” I stretched my neck to look up at him, making no effort to leave his warmth just yet. 

“They drugged me. Put somethin’ in the damn whiskey.” He looked around then, sitting up a bit to inspect the camp I put together. “How’d you get me outta there?” 

“Well it wasn’t easy.” I said, finally unraveling myself from him and getting up propper. “You weigh twice as much as you look, I swear. It was like lugging around a ton of bricks.” 

“Where you goin’?” He said with a smile, patting the space beside him I’d just occupied. “Come back here.” 

“What? No- I- I’m gonna go get some food.” 

“So you gonna act like you didn’t just spend all night wrapped around me?” The smug smile on his lips grew. When I didn’t move, he got up with a groan and walked toward me. Only stopping when he stood just a breath away.

“I’m only gonna say this once…” He said, his voice surprisingly soft for what his words implied. Slowly, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Thank you.” His breath brushed over my face, warm and inviting, “For saving my life.” 

Despite how much of a cocky, slimy asshole he could be. How more often than not I wanted to throttle him… I found myself leaning in, my hand coming up to caress the scar that ran from his lip down his chin. His eyes followed my movement, then in a flash he grabbed my wrist, lifting my arm to inspect the blood soaked cloth there. 

“What happened?” He demanded, his brow furrowing as he noticed the bandages wrapped around my other arm as well.

“I- Um. Got stabbed… a little.” His touch was delicate as he carefully peeled back the cloth to expose the jagged red slashes that peppered my forearm. His face crinkled in anger. 

“I’ll kill those crazy bastards-” He started, but I interjected. “They’re dead.” His eyes widened, looking me over more thoroughly now.

“Even the-”

“Dead.” I said once more, my voice flat as I tried not to remember their bloodied corpses. He squinted, cocking his head as he observed me. Looking me over as if he was seeing something in me he hadn’t noticed before. 

“Okay.” Was all he replied before he turned toward the horses, “Come on.” 

“Where are you-” 

“ We’re going into town. You’re gonna see a doctor. Now mount up.” When I dug my heels in the ground he sighed, already exasperated, “I may weigh a ton, doll. But by the looks of it, you don’t. So unless you want me to pick you up and throw you on the back of this saddle-”

“ Fine.” I muttered, walking over and mounting my horse. “Oh, Micah?” He hummed in acknowledgment. “You might wanna look in your satchel.” 

“ Shit.” He muttered, pulling out one of the gold bars, “All this for shine? ” 

“There was no shine.” I said, starting off down the path, “My guess is those sick sons of bitches were druggin’ folk and robbin ‘em blind.” Micah fell silent. 

“Anyway… Bet you twenty bucks I can beat you to Rhodes.” And before he could reply I kicked my horse into action and raced down the road. The only response I could hear from him was a holler as he reared Baylock and chased after me. 

We raced along the Kamassa River, Micah on my tail the entire time. I knew he was a better rider than me, but he didn’t bother overtaking me until the town came into view. Then, like the cocky ass he was, he stopped Baylock completely. Giving me a good 30 seconds head start before he jolted into a gallop and flew past me just before I reached the fork in the road that led to Rhodes. By the time I got to the main street in town, Micah was already sitting outside the doctor's office.

“Twenty bucks, was it?” He said with a sly smirk as I hitched my horse. I just rolled my eyes, “Put it on my tab, cowboy.” 

“Hey.” He grabbed my wrist as I went to open the office door, “You still got that knife I gave ya?” 

I nodded, reaching for the leather sheath on my hip. “Can I borrow it?” My brow crinkled. 

“Don’t you gotta knife?” He just stared at me, his hand still gripping my wrist. I sighed and handed it over. 

“I’ll be out here. Go get patched up doll.” He said, sitting on the bench beside the door. 

The doctor was an old, greying man whose voice was so gravely from decades of smoking it made Micahs sound like velvet in comparison. “Someone did a real number on you.” He croaked, his cold hands poking and prodding at my tender flesh as he rubbed my wounds with disinfectant and some kind of numbing cream. 

It took about half an hour for him to stitch up the worst of my gashes, and wrap up the rest. By the time he was done I was covered in bandages from wrist to elbow on each arm, it looked a whole lot worse than it felt. Paying him for his time and grabbing a few bottles of tonic on my way out, I found Micah just as I’d left him. 

“Good as new.” I announced, and Micah practically jumped out of his seat. He looked me over, his brows knitting as his eyes scanned the large bandages. Without a word, he patted the space beside him and I joined him on the bench. Taking one bandaged arm in his hand, he gingerly turned it around, inspecting it. Then placed my blade in my open palm. 

I turned it over in my hand and found something carved into the wooden handle. Bringing it closer to my face, I squinted at the small lettering. You are redeemed. It read. I whispered the words, running a finger over the indentations in the wood. A reminder of the price paid and the bounty won, life. ‘Thank you for saving my life.’ his words echoed in my head. 

I had the feeling Micah would no longer shrug off my jobs, that what I sacrificed to save us made me an equal in his eyes. Given the lone wolf he was… well, it meant a lot. I didn’t know what to say to that. The words thank you didn’t seem to hold the same weight any more. Micah stood then, holding a hand out to me. 

“Breakfast?” He asked, jerking his head toward the saloon behind him. I sheathed the knife and took his hand. Pulling me up against him, we stood chest to chest in silence, eyes caught in each other's gazes. 

My hands trailed up his arms, stopping at the scruffy hair on his face to run my fingers through it. His eyes dropped to my lips, and that was all the confirmation I needed to pull his face down to mine. His arms wrapped around my waist, holding me taut against him as his lips took mine. 

He was surprisingly tender, the big gruff outlaw. His lips softly parting my own, tongue ever so slightly trailing over my bottom lip as our mouths moved together, as if this was our thousandth kiss and not our first. Our breath grew heavy, melding the longer we stayed pressed together. My hands tangled in his hair as the kiss deepened, keeping him close. It wasn’t until his warm hand snaked under the hem of my shirt that someone cleared their throat beside us and I broke away from him, realizing we were still in the middle of town in broad daylight. 

“Mornin’.” An older woman said curtly as she stepped around us to enter the doctors office. 

“Mornin’” Micah drawled, tipping his hat to her as she passed. He flashed her a large, genuine smile and turned back to me, face alight. “Hungry, are ya?” His tone only slightly teasing, the same hunger burning in his eyes. 

I took his hand, my own stupid smile growing on my face. “ Starved. ”

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript under the cut:

Atlas: What are you drawing over there? Asher: What do you think? Now, hold still so I can get the shading right on your black eye. Atlas: You’re not. Asher: [laughs] No, I’m not. If you want me to draw ya, you’ll have to get naked.

Atlas: [laughs] Not gonna happen. Asher: Please, I can get you naked in five minutes if I want to. Atlas: Well, yeah, you can get me naked right now. But not to sit on the other side of the room and draw me. Asher: [shrugs] Suit yourself. You do look kinda hot with your face all beat up though. Atlas: Oh really? Maybe I should get my ass kicked more often then? Asher: [laughs] No, don’t do that.

Asher: I never properly thanked you, though. The way you stood up for me… that was… it means a lot. Atlas: Are you kidding me? It took everything I had not to fucking strangle him.

Asher: Is it terrible if I think that’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me? Atlas: [laughs] A little bit. Asher: [shrugs and kisses him] Atlas: [wincing] oh ow, careful. Asher: Sorry, does it hurt? Atlas: Yeah.

Asher: Well then, where can I kiss you that doesn’t hurt? Atlas: [glances down, and back up] I can think of one place. Asher: Yeah? Atlas: Mhm. Asher: Why are your pants still on then? Atlas: Because you haven’t taken them off yet. Asher: [grins and bites his lip, and then slides to the floor]  

[knock knock knock]

Atlas: Who is that? Are you expecting anyone? Asher: No, are you? Atlas: No. Asher: Fuck ‘em then.

[knock knock] Iris: [muffled] Asher!

Asher: What is she doing here? Shit. I’m sorry. Atlas: It’s okay. Just answer it.

Asher: Somebody better be dying. Iris: Nice to see you too. Asher: You couldn’t have called first? Iris: I tried; you didn’t answer. Asher: Did it occur to you that might mean I’m busy? Iris: Are you busy?

Asher: [sighs] Not anymore. Iris: Oh Atlas, you look awful. Atlas: Thanks. Iris: No, I – Atlas: I’m gonna step out for a bit. Asher: You don’t have to do that.

Atlas: It’s alright. Talk to your sister. I’ll be back in an hour. Asher: Alright. Can I kiss you goodbye? Atlas: Sorry, I already put my pants back on. Iris: Ew.

They both laugh as Atlas kisses Asher gently and heads out the door. Asher: I’ll see you in an hour. Atlas: Yep.

Iris: Aren’t you two cute? Asher: Yes, we’re adorable. Now, come on in, tell me what you want.  

[moondrop-writes]

Okay okay I know you JUST wrote something for me but I also JUST got an idea! What about either Connor Stoll or Percy dating a daughter of Dionysus!? He doesn’t know initially but when he noticed them spending more time together he gets suspicious and then when he walks into her cabin without word one day and catches her kissing him he realizes that his precious daughter is dating the guy…which he’s not pleased about. So he threatens his daughter’s boyfriend and is all “if you so much as look at her the wrong way I WILL hunt you down and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life” but ultimately approves because he sees how happy that he makes the reader? And so he goes back to reader and tries to make the threat not seem as bad and they just have a cute little picnic or something together.

If you choose to ignore that’s fine cause you did JUST write something for me, but I think it might be interesting.

hi hi! and no worries about the amount of requests ill take em all! because i just wrote something with percy, i'll go with connor + i love the stoll brothers so...thank you for the request!

edit: i just realized i completely forgot the picnic part...im so sorry :(

You sat on a bench on the porch of your cabin, bending grapevines and leaves amongst twigs to fold it into a crown. Connor, amused, sat at your feet, chin hooked on top of your knee.

"Just wait," you murmured, tongue poking out from your lips as you tie the twigs with a few stray pieces of string, "it looks better when it's on your head."

Connor hummed, raising an eyebrow. You've pricked your fingers about five times, and it'd been an hour of you carefully crafting the crown, but he'd stayed there at your feet for every second of it.

"Aha!" you grinned and leaned down to place it in his curls. Immediately, his dark curls seemed to swallow it up. He winces, as pulls on one curl that had been tugged on uncomfortably when it was placed in his head.

You'd been right, it did look better on his head. The leaves stood out in his dark hair, and the wood of the twigs was a lighter shade than his hair.

You smiled, cradling his cheeks in your hands. "See? Perfect."

He giggled, "me or the crown?"

"Both."

You leaned in to kiss him, when your name was sharply called.

"Y/N!" Your head shot up to find your father, Dionysus, making his way towards you. Connor's eyebrows furrowed, showing his distaste at the intrusion, but stood up and shuffled away a bit. Not even he would dare face your father.

"Papa," you greeted, standing up. He glanced at Connor, but looked over it and waved you forward. Nervously, you hopped down the steps to greet him. Even if he was your dad, and you were around him frequently, he was still a god and could very much turn you into a shellfish if he pleased.

"Yes?" You asked, hands folded behind your back. Your father rubbed his temple, can of coca-cola in hand.

"I need you to overlook the new campers in the archery range. I would ask somebody else, but they all made up excuses and I don't have the energy to do it," he looked genuinely sympathetic for you, knowing very well how much of a pain some new campers could be. It wasn't new to you, for him to treat you so kindly, but Connor made a noise of surprise in the back of his throat.

"Yes, papa. I'll be there in a moment, let me grab my bow," you ran back into the cabin, and exited just in time to hear your dad dismiss your boyfriend.

You gave Connor a brief wave, which he grinned and returned, but stopped and ran when your father stared at him.

"God, I hate Hermes' kids," he said before taking a sip of his drink.

You chuckled weakly, shouldering your bow. "Yeah..."

He walked off, and you blew out a puff of air.

Guess telling you dad about the status of you and Connor's relationship was once again put off.

--

Dionysus knew there was a problem with his eldest child, he just couldn't figure out what.

Castor and Pollux were easy, both boys barely into their teenage years. You were a different story. You showed a whole new set of emotions and talents that Dionysus couldn't figure out. It's why he and your mother hadn't worked out very long (other than the fact he was already married). You and your mother were very similar, but you were both very stubborn.

You obeyed, most of the time, but there were certain things you just refused to bend to. It was what had intrigued him of your mother, but now, while he was attempting to raise you well, it was a struggle.

But even then, you'd become more closed off. You used to greet him daily, whether it was a wave or coming up to say, "good morning!" you always gave him some sort of hello. And sometimes, you'd even join him to play card games, which is more than what he could say for your brothers.

Now though? Each morning when you walked by the big house you were talking to either Connor or Travis, sometimes even both, and it'd been weeks since you bothered to come play games, or even hang around with him.

He didn't want to say he missed you, because it didn't bother him that much. But he was a literal manifestation of entertainment and got bored rather quickly. He loved his boys, but he'd always had a closer bond with you than them. You were a form of entertainment to him, but you were also his daughter and such a shift in behavior concerned him.

Hate to say it out loud or not, he loved you dearly. You were his only little girl.

And it wasn't just the fact you'd stopped talking to him, it was the fact you stopped talking to your brothers too. Castor had approached him on the verge of tears because he'd thought he'd done something to offend you. But, when he payed more attention, he found it was because you'd taken to following the Stoll brothers around.

But teenagers did that right? Leave their annoying little siblings in order to hang out with friends? Gods, he's watched too many romance movies with you.

The number of times he's stared at a TV screen and seen the whiny little sibling snitch on the older sibling after they'd snuck out to talk with their partner should be a crime.

His thoughts flit back to Castor, sniffling in front of him because his older sister was off with Connor Stoll somewhere.

You, with Connor Stoll, somewhere.

Oh, my gods.

He stood up abruptly, just narrowly avoiding knocking over the table as he stormed down the steps of the big house. You had some major explaining to do.

It was easy to see why'd you been dating someone. He cherished you for a reason, so it isn't hard to see why someone else wouldn't. But you were still his daughter.

Connor Stoll? Really? He didn't want you dating any of these brats but there were certainly better options than Connor Stoll. Like that one Apollo boy, but Dionysus is pretty sure he's gay.

He approaches the cabin quickly, and he watches the camper's part to let him walk through. It's easy to anger a god, but it's not easy to soothe that anger.

Dionysus swings the door open and pauses. He doesn't know why he was so shocked, but he supposes it was just the confirmation that stopped him.

There were only three beds in the rather large cabin, so he found yours with ease. There was you, lip locked, with Connor Stoll. He felt his veins light with rage as the two of you jumped apart.

Connor's hand was still on your thigh, and yours on his arm.

"Hands off," he grumbled, swatting at his arm. Connor pulled back as if he'd slapped him.

"Papa!" you cried, jumping up. He didn't touch you, but he held out his arm and you understood. Quietly, you took a step back, staring at the floorboards.

He turned back to Connor, staring at him with wide brown eyes. He raised a finger to jab in his chest.

"Listen, Stoll, because I'm not going to repeat myself," he leaned back, gesturing to the space between you and him. Connor nodded shakily.

"Yes, Mr. D," he stuttered out, glancing over to you.

"Ah, ah, ah. No, eyes on me," Connor's eyes flit to him.

"If you even look at her again, I will make sure you and your future kids regret it for the rest of your small mortal lives. Understood?"

"Yes," he repeated, struggling to make eye contact.

"Good," Dionysus said and then he points to the door, "now get out."

Connor does, only after pausing at the door. He doesn't look back though, and Dionysus turns to you.

He sighs when he sees your tears, and you sniffle softly. "Y/N," he calls gently, raising his hand to wipe at your tears. You turn your head, and his hand brushes your shoulder instead.

You wouldn't dare say anything, so that meant it was all up to him.

"You know I'm doing this for you. Connor...he's just, not the right fit--"

"I loved him though!" you shouted, hiding your face in your hands, "he made me really happy, Papa, and you ruined it!" You sobbed, loud and noisy, and it reminded him of when you were young and wailed over things such as scraped knees.

"You're still young," he tries to reason, "there will be others!"

"Not like Connor," you say, "and besides, I doubt you'd approve of them either."

He pauses at that, hand hovering midair. He never knew what to do to please you anymore. You'd moved away, grown more distant, since your childhood. You'd grown up. He hadn't changed, you had.

Maybe he had to change with you.

His hand grabbed your wrists and pulled them from your face. Then, he wiped at the tears on your cheeks and pulled you close. You fought at first, but melted into the touch once he rested his hand on the small of your back.

"I just want you safe, you know that, right?" he whispered, like it was a secret.

Slowly, you nodded.

"I mean it, Y/N. I love you, and your brothers a lot."

Still, you weren't satisfied.

"And," he said, taking in a deep breath, "if Connor makes you happy then...you can pursue him further."

You jumped back, a grin on your face. "Really?" you asked, a small hint of doubt in your tone.

He sighed, "yes, really."

You threw your arms around him. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Dionysus ran a hand through his hair. "Mhm, yeah, whatever.

You pull back again, your wide grin softening into a shy smile.

"Papa, I can handle myself. I mean it. Thank you."

Finally, a smile makes its way onto his features too.

"Yeah, you're welcome."

[cyberwhumper]

It takes a goddamn lot of force to get Rex down. Vic knows that better than most people. Dude is built like a Mack truck. Like, he’s got the quads of a fucking statue. He has muscles in places Vic didn’t know could have muscles. And goddamn does he know how to use ‘em.

…for sports purposes. No other reasons. Shut up.

Anyways.

Point is, Vic’s not used to somebody actually managing to check Rex off his feet. It takes him a second to process what’s going on as the whistle blows. There’s a bit of a scrum going on behind the crease, lotta shoving, so he can’t quite make out who that is in blue at the bottom of the pile.

And then he sees blood on the ice.

Vic skids in sideways as the knot loosens up and someone gets hauled to the box. Rex. Rex is lying there, twitching like a dead fuckin’ bug at the foot of the wall, blood pooling under his head like a halo. How in the fuck…

“Cap?” He knows he shouldn’t, knows it’s sus as hell, but he drops a glove and reaches down, fingers light on Rex’s face. Big Dog’s eyes are open, at least, but his pupils are zoinked down to pinpricks, gaze wandering vaguely around the ceiling. “Rex, bud, can you hear me?”

There are shards of plastic on the ice, too, little black islands in the red. Vic stares at them, then up at the dasher, then back at Rex before it clicks.

Dirty hit. Fuck, he was out before he even hit the ice. Rex’s head went into the wall hard enough to break his helmet.

“Easy, dude.” Vic’s not entirely sure if he’s saying it more to Rex or himself. Not good. Really not fucking good. “Don’t move. Trainer’s coming.” Christ, he feels like his heart is shitting its pants. He forces himself to breathe, hand on Rex’s face as gently as it can be, stroking his thumb across Rex’s cheekbone like that will fuckin’ help, like he’s trying to erase the last thirty seconds.

Longest thirty seconds of his damn life.

“V…ky…?” Rex’s voice comes real low and raspy, like he’s talking in his sleep, completely fucking incoherent. “Wh…oo…s…”

“Look at me. Hey.” Vic glances over his shoulder, checking the EMT’s progress from the far end of the ice. Why they don’t put those guys in skates, he’ll never understand. Miguel’s practically dragging the poor lady and her Skechers across the blue line.

He looks back down just in time to see Rex’s eyes roll back in his skull. “Hey. Cap, c’mon, look at me, baby, don’t close your eyes.” He resists the urge to smack Rex in the face to wake him back up. Probably won’t help. But then Rex’s whole body shudders, going dead rigid and back arching off the ice, and Vic loses any shreds of dignity he still had. That’s his captain. That’s his man.

“Rex, Rex, FUCK, get the medic over here NOW—”

[Fic by the exceptionally talented @bxtterflystxtches , who I have the honor of collaborating with for this event. Please show him some love!]

[OC INDEX]

COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!

Tag list: @whumpsday // @demondamage // @squidlife-crisis // @whumpedydump // @cyborg0109 // @whumpfish // @astrowhump // @the-scrapegoat // @whatwhumpcomments // @dustbunnywhump // @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question // @dokidokisadness // @moss-tombstone // @lambofmine // @maracujatangerine // @pinkraindropsfell // @writereleaserepeat // @blood-and-regrets // @littlespacecastle // @snakebites-and-ink // @unforgiven235 // @lonesome--hunter // @atomicsandwichprince // @writereleaserepeat // @whatamidoingherehelpme // @skittles-the-whumpee // @the-blind-one-speaks // @i-eat-worlds // @devourerofcheesecake // @theauthorintraining // @otterfrost // @mommymarichatfurever // @whumpifi // @catnykit // @bitchaknso // @softmutt444 // @yet-another-heathen // @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat // @burnticedlatte // @violent-ultraviolet // @limitlesstrash17 // @inspiral-rl // @coyotehusk // @mis-graves // @caffeinatedscorpio // @defire // @badluck990 // @unforgivenn //

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[magicxc]

Call On Me

Pairings: Idris Elba x Black!Reader

Word Count: 1523

Warnings: Exhibitionism, Fellatio, Choking

BBJ Masterlist

“C’mon angel, put it in all the way.”

“Idris, it wont fit and I’m not about to make it either.”

“Just let me help you push it in, you’re not doing it right.”

“No, cause then it’ll stretch.”

“It’s elastic, so it’ll snap back.”

“We’re still here daddy, I can just get another size as opposed to destroying this one.”

“I mean if you want your jeans to fit like sweatpants, then go for it.”

“You’re so dramatic, it simply doesn’t fit, and you’ll love me either way; sweat pants or not.”

“I mean yeah, of course but it’s drip or drown; and if you're gonna be with me, then you’ve got to be drippin.”

Sometimes it’s best to ignore him. God knows I love my boyfriend, but I can’t with the shit that comes out of his mouth. It’s like somebody teleported him back to 2017 and he’s readjusting to the present life. 

Albeit fashion is a big deal to Idris, I’ll give him that. But I, for one, value comfort over everything. It’s just one of those things we’ve come to meet in the middle about, though he’ll still try and rearrange my wardrobe if given the chance. 

“Idris, can you add this to the ‘maybe’ pile in the corner please?”

Taking the pants from me, he neatly hangs it up in the corner of the room, uttering how even tho my clothes aren’t dripping, he can be.

“Oh my goodness,” I laugh. “Really? Tell me you’re joking.”

“Now why would I do that mhmm? In fact I remember a time when stargazing in public was on both of our bucket lists.”

“Yes, in the car or under a moonlit beach not the damn mall,” I gushed. “Idris nothing about this says private.”

“Is that not the point of PUBLIC stargazing,” he enunciated.

Ahh yes, stargazing - an act in which one can observe the many stars of the galaxy sometimes as a hobby or sometimes for scientific research. Of course our star gazing meant something vastly different. Even though we didn’t need a telescope to see them, there was still that warm and fuzzy feeling when they did appear. 

You see Idris and I have a thing for code words. It’s used mostly when gossiping about people or situations. But recently it's become a fun new way for us to describe sexy times in front of others. 

How real would it be to blurt out amongst your friends that you just want to take your lover home and become one with the sheets? I’m sure they’d understand but I’m not tryna let people know every time I want my back blown out. So instead we came up with a way to state our intentions without having to dance around certain words. 

For example, Sunday dinners with the family goes something along the lines of 'do you want to go stargazing afterward?' Similarly to how it's socially acceptable to tell your loved ones that you and your partner are trying for a baby but not that their pussy turns into a mini day care every night; except our family hasn’t quite caught onto the the fact that neither of us so much as own a telescope; though I fear it’s only a matter of time until they do. 

I’m not as sexually daring as Idris but I refuse to punk out of this. He thinks that I’ll back out of stargazing simply because we’re in a public place where people can hear us? Let's be clear, I absolutely would, but the way my competitive nature is set up, I’ll stargaze with him. Shit, he better be ready to see the milky way too, cause I’ll be damned if I don’t make him cry for me. 

“You know what daddy, drop em,” I demanded, chin pointing toward his pants. “Gone ahead and give me something shiny to see.”

To say that he was shocked would be an understatement, bug eyed and eager as he runs his tongue across those juicy lips. He doesn’t let that falter him for long and makes quick work of the buckle of his pants. And my God if that action isn’t my personal little aphrodisiac. 

Knees hitting the floor, I watch in awe as his dick springs free, pre cum slowly dribbling from the tip. 

“You this wet already for me?” I tease. “Tell me exactly how you want it.”

“Use your mouth.”

“Nuh uh, use your words,” I insist. 

“Start by getting the tip nice and drenched for me angel,” Idris lamented. 

Inching closer to the head, I open my mouth and spit on it, watching intently as it trails down to the floor. 

“Now what?”

Smirking, he asks me to drain his balls entirely and I work on doing just that. 

Gathering the tip of his penis in my mouth,  I use the wetness to help me suction him. Cheeks hallowed and teeth tucked, I make sure to maximize on his sensitivity; tongue twirling around that mini slit lined at the head. 

His thighs quake ever so slightly, which only pushes me to suck in earnest, making sure to keep the tip nestled against my tongue. 

Fingers cradled behind me, I lock them together, opting instead for hands free head so I can really talk my shit once we’re done. 

Deciding it’s time to show some love to the rest of his lengthy member, I slow my ministrations and softly run my tongue along his shaft; tracing each thick and hardened vein - starstruck at Idris’ skin, a rich shade of chestnut. 

This part always gives me some trouble, but I’m willing to sacrifice a little comfort if it means I can hear him sing for me; and quite frankly he’s not doing enough of it. 

Bobbing my head steadily, it takes a minute for me to gain some traction, mouth now sliding along his dick with ease. His hips start a slow thrust and I bounce my head a little quicker, twisting from side to side as I do so. 

Finally, it’s drenched enough for me to take the entirety of him, stopping only when I reach the base of his shaft. His dick is properly lodged down my throat and I do everything I can to breathe through my nose, slight gagging noises making its way past my lips. 

As quiet as he tries to be, the harsh hissing that meets my ear encourages me to make quick work of him, bobbing in short, rapid successions, listening intently as his groans turn into quiet moans. 

Face planted against his coily pubes, they’re trimmed to perfection, the tropical notes of his coconut body wash lingering inside my nose. The deep, onyx color glistens with a mixture of precum and spit, similar to that of stars littered against the never ending black hole of space, as they softly tickle my cheeks.

Dislodging him completely to take a much needed breath, the cool air feels icy against my drool ridden chin. Tears brimmed at my eyes and pussy clenching against fabric, this dressing room is fixing to see way more than just changing of the clothes. 

“You wanna cum?” I taunted. “Make those pretty noises for me and I just might let you.”

Dick jumping in anticipation, I decide to head down south and give a little love to the overlooked - his ball sac. 

Slurping them in my mouth, I swish them around, mapping over the textured skin. His girthy member sits on my forehead, wet and dripping; adding to the soaked mess down under. 

I get a light hum in return and suction him to a the very fine line of pleasure and pain. A breathy moan follows and his hand soon finds itself planted at the root of my scalp. 

Thankfully he cant see the smirk that lines my lips and I give his balls a few more swirls before I set them free with a loud pop. 

“Haaaah”, is the desperate whine that I hear above me, but somehow I need more. 

Dick once again at the bottom of my throat I remove it until I get to the very tip and slam it back down again. 

“Just like that daddy, keep it up and I can make it real good for you.” 

*slurp*

“What’s my name? Huh? Let these bitches know who’s making you quiver like the slut you are.”

*slurp*

“C’mon and cum for me like I know you can, Idris.”

The fingers once tangled in my hair soon find themselves wrapped around my throat, squeezing me with just enough pressure to remind me how little control I actually have here. And while it was fun while it lasted, feminism doesn't exist with his hand around my neck. 

“Open wide for me angel.”

Tongue slithering past my teeth, I lay it flat for a full display, watching intently as he jerks himself to the finish line and in my mouth. 

He shouts his release, a little higher in pitch than I expected, chanting my name like the prayer it is. 

“Now close your mouth and swallow like I know you can,” he grunted. 

[protectingtulpas]

Tulpamancy vs Chronic Fatigue

[Plain text: Tulpamancy vs Chronic Fatigue]

Fuck it, if I'm gonna complain so much about being being exhausted on here I might as well make a semi-coherent post about it.

So, when I was made, my host wanted one thing of me. And that was to do whatever the fuck I wanted, to take the body and drive us both to make more of our lives, do more with ourselves and stop being so cooped up.

That uh, was before we realized we've got Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I ended up not having the energy to give us the ass-kicking we needed, neither of us did, and my host sure as hell didn't know what we were up against. Headspace is nice, yeah, but it's not the same, even with how vast and expansive ours is. It's just not as tangible. I can't go out like I want, experience the world like I want, put as much energy into MY life like I want. I can't just force my way through it, and it made us both step back and re-evaluate our lives and purposes and shit. You'd be thinking I'd be wondering why I was made, why I'm here at all. Aren't I angry at my host? Don't I feel trapped?

But here's the secret, tbh. Living at all? Fucking rocks. There's nothing like air to breathe, the wind blowing, the sun glowing. I'm not angry at them for bringing me around, because like, the limitations of our body don't mean that I'm better off not existing. I've experienced!! I'm alive!! Maybe it's slower than I thought, and yeah that kinda sucks, especially as a tulpa. Even the act of making a tulpa in the first place can take soooo much longer when you're working against exhaustion, a spoon budget, brain fog, etc. But the thing is, just living the best you can is always worth it. I'm glad I exist. Yeah, I know I'm limited, but I'm not gonna go getting nihilistic instead of making the most of what I've got. I'm not gonna dwell on why I was "born"/created, I've got my whole life ahead of me, and I've already done so much, made a ton of positive memories, and made plans for my future. And I'll go at it at my own pace, because I deserve it.

I guess my point for potential hosts is that if your hangup over creating a tulpa is because of some disability reason, don't worry about it, just go for it. Long as you're ready to navigate disabled life with somebody else, and you're gonna give em as much space to live their life within ur personal physical & mental capabilities, then it's just as ok. Life is never a waste, and disabled lives aren't any less worth living.

I know I have a crapton of asks in my inbox, but this felt more fitting since my blog is sporadic as hell rn. I'll try to keep the momentum going tho

[onthecourtbugs]

Hey girl so I was thinking a tall reader with Nash and Jason possibly maybe more of jabberwock I haven’t seen a lot of people write for the rest of them..probably because they barely got any screen time like how Nash n Jason did,but if you can try that would be nice!!

Tall Gyal

Pairing: Jabberwocks x Tall!FemReader

Warning(s): None

A/N: You’re absolutely correct, we don’t see a lot for them! Allen’s is kinda short tho, ngl.

Summary: The Jabberwocks like tall girls too, don’t even lie and say they don’t.

-----

Jason

Still pinching and smacking and grabbing you everywhere. You thought being tall was gone save you? Uh-Uh. If anything, this makes it worse.

Or better? Maybe you like that.

Jay certainly does. It’s nice to not have to lean over or bend his knees to get a little action.

He loves it!

What he doesn’t love is the fact he can’t hide nothing from you. He’s used to putting stuff up high where he’s the only one who can reach it. Out of sight out of mind, right?

Wrong, cuz you can pull up a chair and see just fine. That and he’s not very original with his hiding spots so he’s practically inviting you to see all the snacks, surprise gifts and stuff you’re not supposed to know about.

He still hasn’t gotten used to the fact that someone else can and will reach up in his zone and take all his goodies 😫

You got that man frantically opening cupboards and swiping the empty spaces on top multiple times cuz he swore he put his Cheetos up there!

“Y/n!”

“Whut?” Laid out on the couch with the remote and an orange bag, watching your favorite show without a care in the world. The great thing about Jason’s place? Everything is bigger than you, even the shower.

“You seen my Cheetos?!”

You roll up the half-empty Cheeto bag with loud, telltale crinkles and start on licking your fingertips clean of evidence. “Nope! Check the cupboards!”

“I looked there already!” He sticks his head in the living room and glares at you as you quickly tuck the bag under your body.

You pull your thumb out with a loud pop. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me! I saw that!”

You smile, not even the least bit guilty. “I figured since Nash put you guys on that special diet, you wouldn’t need them anyway?”

“Nash don’t run nothing up in here!” He snatches the remaining Cheetos from underneath you and looks pitifully at them. “Damn, girl! You put a hurting’ on these didn’t you? Always eating my stuff…"

“Didn’t you take my goldfish and never gave em back?!”

“Mannn, why you bringing up old beef?”

“It was last night…”

“Like I said, in the past.”

You just want to snatch his piercings off sometimes.

Zach

He prefers tall girls anyway. Not to say he won’t go for average/short girls, but he def has a favorite in tall babes, and an even bigger favorite in you.

When you’re his girl, it’s a wrap, DMs are closed. Ain’t nobody else getting in.

He looks scary to some but trust me, he is totally and irreversibly whipped for you.

Makes grumpy grunts and whines and moans when he doesn’t wanna do something but ultimately does it anyway.

Gives you plenty of attitude when he’s mad but will never put his hands on you. He’ll reach for you and you flinch thinking he’s about to get physical, but he just picks you up and puts you in the bedroom for a time out.

Always tries to butter you up with food and hugs and kisses after he makes you mad.

Always has you on the inner part of the sidewalk.

Makes any excuse to touch you respectfully. -turns to look at Jason over the rim of my shades-

Want to wear heels, but feel insecure about being too tall? Zach is not about to let that slide.

He’s buying you heels and that’s final!

And not only that, he’s sliding them on your feet in the store and buckling/tying them up before taking your hands and helping you stand up in them.

Let somebody say sum to make you feel insecure about it.

“Go head! Say it with your chest! It’s not gone come out a second time so make it count.”

Happens to be a very talented dancer, and loves taking you to parties so he can show you off. Tends to reel back just so he can watch you do your thing in the shoes he got you.

Sometimes gets impatient for the slow songs so he can hold you close.

Sometimes doesn’t even wait and intimidates/bribes the DJ into putting on your favorite slow song to dance to.

Can’t even imagine a feeling better than holding you.

Nick

He’s just so happy you like him back.

All the girls usually go for Nash. 🥲

Shows out on the court when he notices you’re in the stands watching one of his games.

Jabberwocks ain’t never seen this man hustle so hard.

Cuz yeah, he did invite you and all, but you actually showed up 🥹

Like, you don’t understand, his heart is doing backflips in his chest. He cannot embarrass himself in front of you right now.

His teammates notice he keeps looking over at you and get nosy.

“Dayummmmm! She kinda bad tho!”

“That your girl, Nicky boy?”

“Yup~.”

They start setting Nick up for passes while having a whole interrogation in the middle of the game. 💀

Since when did he have a girl?

How come he’s never brought you around?

You were way too fine for him… but did you have a sister?

Nick stopped in his tracks and passed to Zach so he could fix Allen with a stare.

“What?”

“Really?”

“Quit being stingy! We could do double dates!”

Gets super excited when the game is over and you’re waiting for him to come over to you.

You looked so cool, leaning back on your ride with your shades propped up on your head and one ankle crossed over the other.

It was also easier to notice something about you that wasn’t so obvious when you were sitting… not that it mattered but…

“She kinda tall tho…”

Zach rolls his eyes. “Allen shut up.”

“I see why Nick was scared earlier, she bout as big as he is!”

Allen squints at Jason. “I know you ain’t calling nobody big, Paul Bunyan.”

“Cut it out.” Nash acts bored with the whole thing but he’s definitely watching from the corner of his eye.

You grab fistfuls of his jersey and pull him in for a kiss.

Allen

Allen’s not a complicated dude. He likes video games, anime, and basketball.

He doesn’t like getting into arguments with you and is generally chill with you.

Also likes that you’re closer to his height so he can grab you up.

He’s a straight clown and will act a right fool with most girls, but around you, he gets extra shy and acts aloof.

Thinks you’re kinda intimidating at first, but when he gets to know you he lets out his inner goof a bit and makes you laugh.

Nash does not let this man sit next to Jason when traveling, cuz when those two get together it’s over for everyone. Allen’s assigned seat is next to you.

Which is okay with him, if he can’t crack jokes with Jason he’ll just show you the newest Ninja Turtles movie trailer.

Has a million different playlists that he trades with you.

Doesn’t mind if your feet are in his lap when he plays video games.

Gamer lovers~

Tucks you in when you fall asleep before him, carefully removing your shoes and settling blankets over you.

Is extremely private about his relationship.

Has a whole system for buying consoles and games and will get you whatever you want.

Will carry you in any multiplayer game.

Is all for equality so if you’re higher than him he will let you carry.

Nash

Obsessed with your legs and loves to run his hands up the length of them when you’re in his lap.

They belong everywhere, on the couch, on the dashboard, heck, put them around his waist, he ain't mad.

Traveling first class is a given and that extra space is heaven.

Zach and Nash are brothers in arms when buying shoes for their baby girls.

He doesn’t care how tall you are, you’re still getting them.

So, remember when Jason couldn’t stand you cuz Nash is always letting you have your way?

He figured out how to take advantage of that 😂

Like you’ll actually have stuff in common and so seven times out of ten, when he wants something and knows Nash ain’t rolling with it, he’ll try to get you to ask for it.

Like when you want that one cousin your mom likes to ask if ya’ll can do something cuz you know if you ask she’s gonna say no?

You, my friend, are that cousin.

“Bro, you trying to go bowling again?”

Nash gives him a thumbs down and makes a buzzer noise. “Pick something else.”

“Mannnn.” He immediately turns to his trump card when you walk in “Yo, Y/n! YOU tryna go bowling again?”

“Are we going for real?!”

“What? No.”

“Aww, but why?” You drop into his lap a little too hard and he grunts but pulls you up against him into a more comfortable position.

“We went bowling yesterday,” he drums his fingers on your hip, “pick something else.”

“Well, we could do whatever you want first and then go!” You look up at him with soft eyes and just… ugh. The begging. He could handle attitude but was weak against the begging. “Please, baby?”

There was no way in hell he could refuse. You did give his interests first priority… His head falls back and he lets out a loud sigh before giving your thigh a light smack.

“Go get your shoes.”

[aquilathefighter]

Fluffbruary 18: Recovery

Yet again the ficlet gets away from me! Hob can be hypermobile, as a treat (for me)

Find all my @fluffbruary ficlets on AO3 here!

Fandom: The Sandman (2022)

Relationship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

“Turn that light off or I’m gonna rip up that book you’re reading, I swear,” Hob grumbles, arm thrown over his eyes.

A single lamp is on in the hospital room, overlooking the armchair Dream has sat in since Hob was admitted.

Dream scoffs, “Darling, you could call the nurse for painkillers. That is what they are there for, no? I recall many dreams of comfort from nurses.”

“You must be missing the nightmares of ‘em too. Fine, I’ll do it for you,” Hob fumbles for the call button in his bed. “You really don’t have to stay, love. I’m sure you’ve work to do.”

Dream shuts his book and sets it on the side table. He crosses the room to hold Hob’s other hand, the one free from IV line and oxygen monitor.

“Beloved, you are unwell. My place is here with you.” He presses a kiss to Hob’s forehead, sweaty and tasting of hospital as it is. “I will not leave you.”

Hob weakly squeezes his hand.

“How did I ever survive without you? Hell, even I don’t know how I’ve managed this long. Imagine what it was like when bloodletting was the in thing.”

Hob attempts to stretch his legs, wincing at the twinge in his knee. It’s reset in its proper place, held in place by braces and tape. The physical therapist will be there in the morning, no doubt to tease him about another go-round in hospital and to assess the damage to his connective tissues. They’ll let him go in a couple of days, it’s not too serious considering everything Hob’s dealt with over his lifetime. It wasn’t until he settled into a more comfortable life in the 16th century that his body started to fall apart. The musculature of soldiering and later working the printing press kept his joints in place, but when he no longer had to use his body as a tool, the joints soon felt loose in their sockets.

Eleanor had helped him then, massaging his shoulders through the twinges and calling the local physician to provide him laudanum before he wrenched the bone back in place. If he weren’t immortal, there would’ve been much more damage than lasted. There was certainly a lot of scar tissue that stuck around, but Hob retained his hypermobility and occasionally had to break through it to keep moving.

Things got better as time went on, though he’d rather forget the 17th century altogether. Medical knowledge advanced and by the time of the 20th century they had words for people like him, more than double-jointed, more than flexible. Sometime during the 70s, he saw a rheumatologist who told him he had abnormal collagen that lead to the scarring, dislocation, and bruising. Ehler’s Danlos Syndrome, he said. The doc had introduced him to the brilliant world of physio, which kept him moving most of the time.

But like anybody, he got lazy. Skipped his exercises for too long, and inevitably he’d dislocate something he couldn’t put back himself. Somebody would call an ambulance or he’d drag himself to A&E and spend a couple days in hospital. It was lonely, then. Days staring out the window into the dreary London skyline, nothing to entertain himself with but the telly.

But now Dream is here. And Dream understands. He’s explained it like this: having a corporeal form is in itself a form of body horror. He’s grown used to it, spending more time in the Waking with Hob, but still it is frightening to be trapped within skin and bone, muscle and sinew, to take damage and feel pain. So to Hob who’s body seemingly fights against him, Dream’s being fighting against his body is not so different.

Dream comes with him to A&E, rests in the uncomfortable armchair on the observation floor, brings him a phone charger and crossword puzzles and reads to him. Like sitting in this dreadful room, pungent with bleach and alcohol, is no hardship at all. And it isn’t, not in Dream’s eyes.

Dream leans down to kiss his lips, soft and gentle. He pulls back, staring at Hob’s face. Even when he is sweaty and pained and hasn’t bathed since Thursday, Dream gazes at him like he is a masterpiece. His heart clenches with how much he loves him.

“I am glad you survived alone. And I am glad you no longer have to.” He releases Hob’s hand and goes back to his seat as the nurse comes in.

“Hi, Robbie, sorry it took so long. Busy day up here! What can I getcha? More juice? A blanket for your other half?”

“Hey, Michelle. I was wondering if I could get my PRN? My head’s killing me more than my knee, frankly,” he chuckles.

Michelle pulls up his chart on the little computer she’s brought with her. She hums as she clicks, and clicks, and clicks about five more times before arriving at the correct tab.

“Looks like it’s certainly time for you to get more pain meds! Let me page Dr. Lansing and we’ll get that in right away.”

Hob smiles at her, grateful for the beauty of modern medicine. He can wait as long as they need to get his pills.

“Do you need anything else while I’m here? I can grab one of the nursing assistants for ya,” Michelle says as she drags the computer cart towards the door.

“I think we’re alright, right love?” Hob looks at Dream, already lost in his book again. He doesn’t respond.

Hob smiles. “Yeah, we’re good. He gets lost in a story so easily.”

Michelle leaves, shutting the door behind her. Hob sighs and lays back in the bed, replacing the arm he’d thrown over his eyes.

“Dove?” Hob calls out. Dream hums in response, looking up from his book.

“Can you come up here with me? These rooms are too damn cold.” Dream closes the book once again and climbs into the bed, lifting Hob’s bum leg to help him scoot over. He lays on his side, gazing at his love. Hob buries his head against Dream’s lithe chest, inhaling as much as his lungs can hold of his scent. Dream pulls the thin blanket over the both of them, then brings his hands up to hold Hob and stroke his hair.

“Rest, my love. I will be here as long as you are to recover. Then, we will go home. I will not let you ‘forget’ to do your exercises anymore.”

Hob huffs and snuggles closer, drifting closer to sleep with Dream’s aid and ministrations.

Michelle gives Dream a soft smile when she returns to the room with a glass of water and two giant pills in a plastic cup.

“Have him take these when he wakes up,” she whispers. “Promise I won’t tell on you.”

For once, Dream gives someone else a gentle smile, knowing his Hob is loved and cared for.

[jaxxsoxxn]

Funny scene imagine it

Boomerang and Bart talking about anything and having fun

Hal huh? Who knew that kangaroo actually is good with kids can you believe that Barry 

Barry looking at boomerang like he’s the only person in this room hal knowing that look too well

Screams out Flash no are goddamn serious. Barry caught off guard. Wait what

hal of all of the men in this world and the women him why him Barry looks at the hand that he pointing at to boomerang wait no no no no no no no that’s no oh don’t lie to me I know that look Barry I don’t like him like that I promise hal you sure cause your face is turning red OK fine so it’s not a big deal a big deal. He’s a criminal well your girlfriend was once a criminal your ex-girlfriend you did not pull that card Barry I did. Hal

Come back to boomerang then Bart what the bloody hell are they screaming about I don’t know should we go stop them boomerang no kid let’s see this play out.

—🐌

Henlo Snail Anon! :D why won't I write the scene out a little ;>

Also, poor Wally, he didn't connect the dots yet :')

~~~

Bart and Digger share few things with each other - their hatred to boredom, their inability to think some things trough and stop moving being one of those, so when Barry sees them meet, he honestly expected them to at least understand each other.

The Suicide Squad (or something something force X) is helping Justice League with some type of mission, which is centered around the Bat, so unsurprisingly not many of them know exactly what is the mission about or what is the danger they are helping with, but it leads to the squad meeting up with a lot of sidekicks.

Of course all the Robins know Harley and Deadshot, Aquaboy or however he's called at the moment also know King Shark.

(said Villain waves at the kid almost shyly and Barry can see Hal roll his eyes in fondness - man was always weak for animals and after sitting trough Guy's drunk rants about sharks and how they're misjudged, he might've grew a soft spot for them which he's not proud of)

Surprisingly for him, Wally barely even knows Boomer. He blinks few times after somebody mentioned that Captain Boomerang was a Flash Rouge and looks closer, which causes few of the more vigilant sideckis to stop in their tracks and look from Kid Flash to the villain.

Digger, being one of the first to notice Wallies confusion, scowls visibly and just averts his eyes. Flash couldn't stop the slight grimace at the scene, feeling bad for the man. That is, until Bart, always his actions faster than his thoughts (though he's learning to do better) gets inside their meeting place and starts running circles around Boomer.

"Cap! Cap! Cap!" a show of affection in his way, chanting his nickname and running circles, while every person that can see above Bart could notice Digger bite back a fond smile.

His Speedforce gauntlet shines lightly while he grabs the kid behind his neck and pulls him up with an amused huff.

"Me, me, me." he repeated after the boy, slowly letting him down.

Somehow, ignoring the shock of few people around them, the two jump into conversation like it's their second nature. Bart still moves around like normally, but Digger does the same, if slightly slower.

When they finally stop for a second, all people can decipher is "Barry talks about ya do much." and then they brush it off, continuing.

Hal, gods bless Hal, doesn't notice it. He's smirking slightly, pointing at their general direction with his hand, while with the other he practically hangs himself on Barry.

"Who could've guessed that the kangaroo is good with kids! Especially since he put bombs in two of 'em..." he wants to carry on, but he can't help but catch the way his friend stares at his Rouge.

Barry has a light smile on his face, soft and so admiring that it's almost loving. His eyes are squinted and shining with delight at every silly joke Boomer and Bart make to each other. Green Lantern's jaw is on the floor so quickly, that he could be mistaken for a speedster himself.

"No, Barry, no." he shakes his friend lightly, to not cause a scene, but his eyes are wide enough for Flash to know he's serious. "Bar, there's no way--"

"What? What's wrong now?" his head moves in his way, he's eyes confused, even if they jump back to Boomer and Impulse whenever a loud cackle or a snort is heard. "What's with you?"

"With me?!" Hal slightly loses the control he had on his tone of voice. "I'm not the one thirsting for a goddamn Villain-!"

Flash stops him with his hand against the other's lips, his eyes darting around the room making sure that no-one heard the man. Somehow in the back of his head he can hear Wally also joining Bart's and Digger's conversation, though he's way more subtle than Impulse.

"Shush! It's not like that, I have no idea-"

A hand grabs his writs and Hal pulls his mouth free.

"Like hell you have no idea! If I'd look at anyone the same way you look at him, you'd probably play wedding bells!"

Barry can feel his face starting to match his suit and he grimaces at the sight of a prideful smirk on GLs face.

"Okay, maybe, but it's not a big deal!" he hissed back at the man, who looks at him like he's the biggest idiot here.

"Not a big deal-?! He's a rouge, your very own one! He tied you to a giant Boomerang once!"

"Okay, first of all, it was the funniest shit ever and it wasn't even that serious, second of all, the name Carol Ferris rings any bells?"

"Oh you did not-!"

"... Does anyone know why Bar and Hal are arguing over there?" Wally asks, staring at the pissy fight his two elders have, somehow in disbelief when Flash grabs the other by the hair and pulls almost lightly.

Bart and Digger don't stop talking about their favourite Just Dance dances for longer than a second, just to shrug at him.

With a heavy sigh, Kid Flash is still trying to put together how does Captain Boomerang know Impulse, since the only person Barry actually talks about is this silly Harkness guy or George, whoever he might be.

[drpeppertummy]

ok this is such a mess & totally all over the place but i dont CARE i aint messin around with it anymore

[hunger, stuffing]

"Hey, Leon!" Shel greeted his friend as he walked through the door, grocery bags in hand.

"Y'know, most people knock when they enter somebody's house," said Leon, smiling up at him from the couch.

"Knock knock, baby! I'm makin' you dinner tonight," said Shel, heading straight for the kitchen.

"Oh, for Christ's sakes, Shelly, you do not have to make me dinner," called Leon.

"Get in here and help, then! And leave the bottle!"

Leon sighed and pushed himself off the couch, leaving his beer on the coffee table. As he stood, he suddenly became aware of how awful he felt. His head ached terribly, and so did his stomach. He tried to remember if he'd eaten lunch earlier and wondered if he'd been too busy to bother. Groaning, he trudged into the kitchen, got himself half a glass of water, and collapsed into a chair, letting his head fall against the table.

"Y'know, I wouldn't have to come over here if you'd ever take care of yourself," said Shel.

"You don't have to take care of me, Shelly," Leon mumbled into the table. He raised his head and downed the water.

"Well, I don't," Shel agreed with a shrug, tossing a pile of freshly rinsed vegetables onto the cutting board. "But I look at you looking like this and I think, well, things could shape up for this guy. You're like those sad dogs they put in the commercials. Y'know, with the song and all."

"Gee, thanks," said Leon, unable to hold back a grin. He pulled himself out of the chair and joined his friend at the counter, propping himself against it on his elbows. Shel smiled and patted him on the back.

"Alright, what're we makin'?"

"How's chicken noodle soup sound?"

"Sounds pretty great," said Leon. His stomach growled in agreement. It was chilly out, and Leon's old house had a way of refusing to keep warm. The idea of a hot bowl of soup was immensely appealing, particularly after a long, busy, dreary day like today.

Shel put Leon to work chopping vegetables while he prepared the chicken, and before long they had a pot simmering on the stove. The kitchen smelled wonderful. As they cleaned up, Leon found himself feeling much better than he had been before Shel arrived. Mentally, at least. He determined that he must have forgotten lunch after all. His head was pounding, and he was so hungry he was beginning to feel sick. He winced as his stomach growled loudly.

"Jeez, Leon, didn't you eat today?"

"I was busy," he confessed, dropping himself into a chair with his arms wrapped around his belly.

"Oh, Leon," Shel groaned. He reached into one of his bags and pulled out a loaf of bread. Opening it, he tore off a hunk and passed it to his friend.

"Thanks," he said, smiling appreciatively up at him. Shel gave him a firm pat on the back and pulled up a chair beside him, knees creaking as he sat. Another whining growl rose up from Leon's stomach, and he took a small bite of the bread. The two sat for a few moments in silence, then Leon looked up.

"You're a good friend, Shelly," he said softly. Shel smiled at him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Y'know, I didn't mean what I said. 'I wouldn't have to come over here.' I don't think about it like that," said Shel, gazing off into the distance. "I like coming over here. Y'know, you're my friend. I'd be happy to take care of you. Even if I didn't think you needed it."

"Shit, Shel, I'd take care of you too if I knew how."

"One step at a time," said Shel. "First we teach you how to take care of yourself. Quit drinking, buy a cookbook, all that stuff. Then when my knees give out entirely, and you better learn quick because I give 'em about a year, you can carry me around everywhere so I don't have to blow all my retirement money on a wheelchair, what do you think?" He turned his gaze back to Leon, grinning. Leon laughed.

"Shelly, I'd carry you to the ends of the earth," he said, throwing an arm around his friend. Shel hugged him tightly. Again, they sat quietly together, until the silence was broken once more by Leon's hungry tummy. The bread had helped to ease the queasy ache in his stomach that not eating for so long had caused, but it wasn't nearly enough to stave off the hunger. In fact, it had only helped his appetite.

"Alright, alright," Shel chuckled. With a soft grunt, he stood himself up from his chair to check on the soup. He tasted it and stirred in a final dash of pepper while Leon set the table. Dinner was ready at last, and Shel ladeled them both a good-sized serving. Hearing Leon's stomach growl again, he added a little extra to his friend's bowl.

"Damn, that smells good," remarked Leon as they sat down to eat.

"I'll give you the recipe," said Shel. "It's not so hard. Kind of thing you can make Sunday and then have all week."

"That's smart." The hot soup was a tremendous relief to Leon's empty stomach. It was well-seasoned and loaded with a variety of vegetables. Between those and the chicken and noodles, there was far more solid than liquid, making it a hearty and filling meal. The baguette Shel had brought, fresh from the store and still warm, accompanied it perfectly.

"I used to be good about that kind of thing," said Leon, blowing on another steaming spoonful. "Meal planning and stuff. Back before all that shit happened." Shel nodded understandingly.

"It's hard to come back from," he said.

"Yeah." The two were quiet for a moment as they ate, then Leon looked up again. "I appreciate how much you help me, Shelly. Really."

"Well, you know I know how it is to go through a tough time." Leon nodded.

The two friends chatted as they ate, talking about their lives and their plans and their problems, and Leon was so distracted by the conversation he barely noticed how quickly he was filling up. It wasn't until a lull in the conversation that he realized just how tight his belly felt. Suddenly winded, he placed a hand against his stomach. It was surprisingly bloated. He paused for a moment, then brought a hand to his mouth to stifle a burp.

"You gotta slow down, Leon," said Shel, smiling. Shel had a way of taking his time with just about everything, eating included. Leon, on the other hand, had a habit of eating far too quickly, often swallowing a lot of air in the process. He leaned back in his seat, one hand still resting on his bloated tummy. He felt absolutely stuffed. He still had half a bowl of soup left, though, and he intended to finish it. He brought up another quiet burp, trying to reopen the space in his stomach that had been filled by air. It helped a little, and he picked up his spoon again.

Though he was still full, Leon's appetite had yet to falter. The soup was the best thing he'd eaten in ages. He tried to follow Shel's advice and eat more slowly. It was easier now that he wasn't ravenous; his full belly could only expand so quickly. And expand it did. Apart from untucking his shirt and kicking off his shoes, Leon hadn't bothered to change out of his work clothes, and his belt was tightening noticeably around his tummy. He paused again, reaching down to try and inch the belt lower on his waist, but his hips made it difficult. He'd always hated his pear-shaped figure, particularly after discovering that he was a man, and the belt squeezing him around the middle wasn't making him any happier about it. He gave up on it and kept eating, wishing he'd gotten changed when he had the chance.

Finally, just as his stomach reached its limit, Leon finished his soup. His belly felt tight and stuffed, almost aching, but at the same time, he felt good. The soup had warmed him up from the inside out, and it was the first decent meal he'd had in over a week. Sighing, he leaned back in his seat again, hand on his belly. It bulged out noticeably, but he didn't care. He was full and sleepy and comfortable, although he'd be much more comfortable once he could finally change into his pajamas. His stomach gurgled softly as it worked to digest the big meal.

Eventually, Shel finished his soup as well, and Leon cleared their dishes and began cleaning up. Shel tried to help, but Leon refused, insisting that he relax. Truthfully, the help would have been appreciated--working with his bloated tummy poking out was bringing back memories of pregnancy--but Shel already did so much for him, he didn't want to trouble him any more. It didn't take long, anyway; they'd gotten most of the mess cleaned up while the soup was cooking.

With the kitchen looking slightly more in order than it had before Shel arrived, Leon sat down once again, his soup-filled belly sloshing gently with the change in position. It was dark out now, and rain pattered softly against the windows.

"Gosh, I'm stuffed," he said, yawning. Shel smiled, pleased. Leon's eating habits were awful, and any time Shel got him to eat a decent meal was a victory. The rain began to pick up, and Leon glanced over his shoulder at the window.

"You oughtta stay the night," he said, turning his attention back to Shel. "It's miserable out there."

"I don't wanna intrude on your space."

"Oh, come on, it's the least I can do. Besides, you know you're always welcome here." A gust of wind sent a harsh spray of rain against the window, and they both looked up.

"Oh, alright," Shel agreed. "You're sweet, Leon."

The two stayed up and chatted a while longer, but they were both sleepy, and it wasn't long before they decided to head off to bed. Leon lent Shel a pair of pajamas--they were a little short, but certainly not too tight--and changed into his own. It was an enormous relief to finally get out of his uncomfortable work clothes. The waist of his pants had left an angry red mark around his tummy where the belt had grown too tight during dinner. He was surprised and a little embarrassed at how much his tummy stuck out now that it wasn't being compressed by his outfit, but it was what it was.

They turned off the lights and climbed into Leon's bed--the couch is awful, but I don't mind sharing if you don't, he'd offered--and pulled up the covers. The rain that had deterred Shel from leaving was now a soothing sound, accompanied by their soft breathing and the occasional gurgle from Leon's full belly. Shel yawned and laid an arm over his friend as though it were the most natural thing in the world for him, and Leon didn't complain. He hadn't been held in years, and it had been even longer for Shel. He hesitated for a moment, then turned onto his side, belly sloshing gently as he did, and wrapped his arm around Shel, who hugged him in return. His heart pounded in his chest, but Shel seemed perfectly serene.

Shel placed a hand on Leon's side, taking comfort in the gentle rise and fall of his full tummy. His eyes were closed, and Leon quietly studied his face. He knew from pictures that Shel had been a particularly pretty man when he was younger, and that prettiness had begun to fade with age, but it still came through from time to time. Now, Leon thought, was one of those times. His stomach let out a soft gurgle, and Shel idly rubbed his side. Leon blushed at the sensation, but he didn't mind. He couldn't recall his ex-husband ever having touched him so gently, especially where his soft belly was concerned, and it was nice. He yawned, and with a sleepy sigh, he closed his eyes.

[bitchdafuqyousay]

Hans Fauste

An awful, metallic scent filled the hot air. Made worse by the heavy humidity that hung over their island so stubbornly, hanging around as stubborn as the beady eyed, cold, cruel people who’d made their homes here.

The closer he got the smell of cigarettes began to make itself known. The smoke from the little white and orange sticks twining and dancing with smoke from a gun. Or two. Depending on if the bastard he was marching to meet felt like drawing both this evening. Cigarette smoke, gun smoke, the salty air gently wafting up from the beach- and blood. Lots of it.

Blood, piss, tears, and vomit. 

“This place fucking reeks.” It always did.

Bronco stopped firmly before entering the pathetic excuse of an open air courtyard the complex boasted. Used to boast. It doesn’t anymore. Being a meet up for all the lowlifes on this side of the island culled any and all bragging rights. Not like there were any tenants here to brag anyways. Even the homeless avoided this place. The people who hung around here or crept over occasionally didn’t live in any of the buildings.

Roanapur’s “finest” used this place. He wasn’t one of them. And he’d never claim to be, the way others might. Don’t pretend to be something you’re not. That was a sure fire way to get a bullet to the front of your face and find your final resting place in a back alley dumpster. But he did know some, and he’d “work” with them on behalf of other people, if they paid him good enough. His eyes scanned the yard, glancing briefly over the two bodies across the way from him, heaped together. They’d either been dragged there or killed there. Bronco couldn’t tell; he didn’t really care either as he wrinkled his nose at the sight.

One of the poor bastards had pissed himself pre-mortem. Shame. That’s embarrassing, and unfortunate- but quite understandable.

And even more unfortunate than that was that they had to meet and see the man who’d put them in that heap. The one he was looking for right now. Absolute monstrous brute. He could smell the fucker’s cigarettes, but couldnt see him.

“Fauste!” 

He waited a second before inhaling deeply to yell again, “Hans-” and was treated to a face full of smoke. Cue disgusting, dramatic hacking to the backing tune of a dark, low chuckle.

“You dick-” he coughed again “-that went in my fucking mouth you fu-” 

“Loud.”

He cut himself off at the single word from the other man. It wasn’t a threat, just an observation, but better safe than sorry. And one would end up real sorry if they didn’t stop while they were ahead out here. 

“Whatever. I don’t need to ask you if you’ve done your due diligence. I can see it. Smell it, too.”

The other man smelled like blood, and that alongside the state of his knuckles screamed that shooting wasn’t all he did to those men. Fauste chuckled meanly and flicked his cigarette butt to the ground, stamping the cherry with the heel of his boot. The sides and toes of his boots also spoke of how much else he did.

“Somebody will ride by to pick those up, then hand ‘em off to Dr. Smiles to break up-” he gestured at the corpses, “Lord knows I don’t deal with that stuff and while you and yours are real good at leaving bodies you don’t do shit to pick em’ up.” 

He turned away from the courtyard to leave the damn thing’s entrance, and his nose brushed Hans Fauste’s chest. He wasn’t sure when the man had gotten behind him, last he’d looked the pale blonde was to his left. His new directional orientation aside, when’d he get so close- why’d he get so close?

“Fauste- '' he put a hand up on the man’s abdomen and shoved a bit. No give. “Fuck are you doing?” He pushed again, same result. The big bitch didn’t budge, just stared down at him with an odd look that made him sweat. His mouth twitched as Fauste’s brown eyes narrowed to slits so sharp he thought the gaze alone might slit his throat. 

“Bronco.”

The sweat turned cold, his name falling out from that man’s mouth made his stomach tighten. He wanted to get out of here. Get into his car and call the person he was third partying for and tell them to run the Maroon Company their goddamn check. Cut this interaction short as he could, he always tried to cut these things short as possible. He hated these types; people who’d been steeped in blood since they were kids and didn’t know anything else but it. Learned how to hold a knife when other kids were learning how to hold a pen. Brats from war sunk places- official and gang- who don’t know shit but kill or be killed. Sympathetic figures, honestly. But he hated them. They were barely people, they didn’t flinch at causing or receiving pain of some kind or another, devoid of empathy and had a real lack of concern for the sanctity of human life. 

Loyal though, if you could train them right. 

Hans was trained, followed around his boss like a big dog. A real big, real mean, violent, aggressive, and reactive dog. He was good to his team, though. Alex and Sam hadn’t a thing to worry about from him. Especially Alex, it seemed like he was a bit sweet on her. Hans would sink his teeth into anyone who had a pulse and said yes, hell, he’d even tried to fit his teeth into Bronco once or twice, but everyone knew he held a special place in whatever was left of his heart for the lady. And he was decent enough to Bronco cause they met every now and then. He’d mediated between people who wanted Hans and the company the blonde was with to do something for them. He’d done this several times so he was a familiar face.

Even nasty dogs are less likely to bite if they recognize you.

But that flies out the window if you cross one the dog’s lines; step on a paw or the tail. And Bronco was straining to remember if he’d done just that. 

Hans tilted his head to the left, then leaned forwards some. It looked odd, him stooping like that while his head was at an angle. And damn did it highlight the height difference between the two men. He was a big guy, and Bronco knew he was intentionally playing on that by leaning forwards to meet his eyes. 

You’re small. So much smaller than me- look how far I’ve gotta bend. Ya see? How much I’ve lowered to meet you in the middle? 

It was an intimidation tactic, and sure, he’d been on the receiving end before, but it was different right now cause it was just the two of them. Prior to this, Hans’ boss was usually here, someone who’d tug his leash and tell him to sit. But now. Now it’s just Bronco, Hans Fauste, and two dead guys at the other side of the courtyard in the center of an abandoned apartment complex. A place where undertakers lurked in the basement and unlucky bastards got their shit rocked in the rooms where people used to sleep. A breeze pushed the smell of blood from the bodies into the small space between the men. 

If I wanted to hurt you, I could. I would. What could you even do about it? I’m armed, and even if I weren’t, I’m so much bigger than you. You can’t fight me off.

“Up it.”

“Pardon?”

Hans reached out and placed a heavy hand on Bronco’s shoulder, putting the other in front of his face and rubbed his pointer, middle finger and thumb together. Money. Then he pointed at the entryway ceiling above them. 

Ah, up it. The price, the cost has risen. Their employers were gonna have to lay out a bigger amount than had been agreed on prior. Bronco, to his credit, didn’t give a shit. Sure fucking thing you big bastard, fuck em’! Make em’ pay a million US dollars for it for all he cared. But they were paying him too. They were shilling him a handful to act as a representative. So he had to represent.

“But a price was already agreed on-”

Hans shrugged dismissively, that big pale hand not leaving his shoulder even as he straightened his posture. 

“I can’t just tell them to write a bigger check without telling them why, I’m gonna have to call Bast and ask her if she’s got you asking for more or if you want a tip for your good work.”

Hans rolled his eyes like some damn teenager before meeting the older man's gaze again, “I’m just doing what I’ve been told.”

His voice was a low, gritty whisper. He didn’t talk much, whether that was a choice or a result of the jagged, pale pink tear across the front of his neck he didn’t know, but regardless he half wished it’d affect him more and make the shithead totally mute. He didn’t like it when Hans spoke, nothing good happened. Plus, he didn’t like his voice. Sounded… wrong… in some way.

“Wow, I’m one lucky bastard, getting to hear a whole sentence from you. What a treat, you’ve used me to meet your word quota for the month.” 

Bronco huffed, turning his face away from Hans and planting his hands on his hips, then looking down at his shoes. They were all dusty now. Hans’ hand squeezed a bit before leaving his shoulder. Bast had evidently approved this, he trusted that Hans was in fact doing what he was told. 

“Ugh. Right. Well, I’ll call our beloved customers and tell ‘em terms have changed and that they gotta get in touch with Maroon Company now. Fuckin’ hell. Now I’ve gotta mediate a meeting. Phone or face?”

Hans screwed up his nose and snorted. 

Yeah, pointless asking him. He wouldn’t know, didn’t care either. That was between the clients and Bast. He just did what he was told. 

Sit, stay, bark, bite. 

Another long sigh left the shorter man’s lips, and he ignored the way Hans’ eyes focused on his mouth for a brief second before they drifted over his head. Probably to admire his handy work in the courtyard. The pale man snorted again, turning away and pulling out another cigarette. Horrible habit, chain smoking. It was rare to see the guy without one of the little cancer sticks hanging out his mouth. But, in turning away, he moved, and Bronco could scoot past him and start pacing towards his car. The man snorted when he went by.

Run, rabbit, run. So, so eager to get away. Rabbit running from the hound.

“I’ll see you around, Fauste. Try not to get fatally shot between now and then.”

[mariacallous]

Nate Silver’s first book, The Signal and the Noise, was published in 2012, at the peak of his career as America’s favorite election forecaster. The book was a 534-page bestseller. It set out to answer a perfectly Nate Silver-shaped question: What makes some people better than others at predicting future events? It provided a wide-ranging, deeply engaging introduction to concepts like Bayes’s Theorem, Isaiah Berlin’s The Hedgehog and the Fox, and Philip Tetlock’s work on superforecasting.

Twelve years later, Silver is back with a second book. It is titled On the Edge: The Art of Risking Everything. It is longer than the first one—576 pages, cover-to-cover. And yet it manages to be a much smaller book.

Silver is still in the business of prediction. But where the Silver of 2012 was contributing to the world of public intellectuals, journalists, academics, and policymakers —what he now terms “the Village”—the Silver of 2024 makes his home among the risk-takers and hustlers in Vegas, Wall Street, and Silicon Valley. On the Edge is an ode to the expected-value-maximizing gamblers’ mindset. He calls this the world of “the River.” These “Riverians” are his people. And, he tells us, they’re winning. He sets out to give his readers a tour of the River and distill some lessons that we ought to take from its inhabitants.

The “river” is a term borrowed from poker itself, a game defined by two forms of incomplete information: You don’t know the cards your opponent has been dealt, and you don’t know the cards that are yet to come. In Texas Hold ’em, the final round of betting is called the “river.” It is the moment when the information at your disposal is as complete as it will ever be

Among poker players, this makes the river a rich metaphor. It’s Election Night, waiting for the votes to be tallied, as opposed to a convention or presidential debate, when the shape of the electorate is still undetermined. The best laid plans can be undone by an improbable river card. It’s the final score. The moment of truth. But when Silver talks about “Riverian” culture, he is not drawing upon or referring to any of this established imagery. Instead he deploys it as a catch-all term for embracing risk, identifying profitable edges, and wagering on your beliefs. It’s an odd and awkward writing choice.

The book starts out with a tour of the sheer scale of the literal gambling economy. In 2022 alone, Americans lost $130 billion in casinos, lotteries, and other gambling operations. That’s the amount lost, mind you. The amount wagered was approximately tenfold larger. Gambling in the United States is a $1.3 trillion dollar industry, and still growing.

Elsewhere in the book, he explains how casinos have developed rewards programs and programmed slot machines to keep people hooked. He also lays out the cat-and-mouse game between the online sportsbooks and profitable sports bettors. Much like with casinos and blackjack, if you are good enough at sports betting to reliably turn a profit, then the sportsbooks will stop accepting your bets. The house does not offer games that the house doesn’t win. And, in the United States today, it is very good to be the house.

In Chapter 6, Silver writes, “Here’s something I learned when writing this book: if you have a gambling problem, then somebody is going to come up with some product that touches your probabilistic funny bones. … And whichever product most appeals to your inner degen will be algorithmically tailored to reduce friction and get you to gamble even more.”

Most of us would think this is a bad thing. But Silver stubbornly refuses to reflect on whether the unchecked growth of the gambling economy has any negative externalities. Chapter 3, on the casino industry, reads like a book on the opioid industry lauding the Sacklers for really figuring out how to develop product-market fit.

Structurally, the book is a bit disjointed. It is broken into two parts, with an interlude listing the “thirteen habits of highly successful risk-takers” in between. Part 1 glorifies the gambling industry. The interlude reads like a self-help book: “Successful risk-takers are cool under pressure … have courage … take shots  … are prepared.” Part 2 meanders through Silicon Valley, discussing everything from the fall of Sam Bankman-Fried to Adam Neumann’s latest real estate start-up, along with an entire chapter explaining artificial intelligence through poker analogies. Silver clearly has a lot to say, but it doesn’t entirely hold together. In the acknowledgements at the end of the book, Silver thanks ChatGPT, describing it as his “creative muse.” I’m not convinced the contribution was a positive one.

Missing from the book is any notion of systemic risk. Silver explains the growth of the gambling economy as evidence of a demand-side increase in risk-taking behavior among the post-pandemic public. But this seems more likely to be a supply-side story. The Supreme Court legalized sports betting in 2018. DraftKings and FanDuel wasted no time in flooding the airwaves with enticing advertisements and can’t-lose introductory offers. Casinos—which used to be constrained to Las Vegas and Atlantic City—are now available in nearly every state.

Polymarket, a cryptocurrency-based online prediction marketplace that will let people place bets on essentially anything, went ahead and hired Silver to help promote the product. We legalized vice and removed most of the friction from the system. What’s good for the casinos and the sportsbooks is not necessarily good for society at large.

An increase in gambling addiction is a society-level problem, foisted on the very public officials that Silver derides as residents of “The Village.” Gambling, like cigarettes, should probably face more institutional friction, not less: If you want to waste your money betting on sports or gambling on cards, it ought to at least be moderately difficult to do so.

There’s an unintentionally revealing passage in Chapter 4. Silver devotes nearly four pages to Billy Walters, regaling us with stories of “the best sports bettor of all time.” And in the final paragraph of the section, he lets slip that Walters was sentenced to five years in prison for insider stock trading in 2018. In a footnote, we learn that Walters’s sentence was commuted by Donald Trump on his last day in office. Walters stubbornly maintains his innocence, while Silver notes that “sports bettors often take a cavalier attitude toward inside information in sports. … The Securities and Exchange Commission is much less likely to give you the benefit of the doubt if you’re betting on stocks.”

It’s a crucial passage for two reasons: First, because much of what gives profitable sports bettors an “edge” is materially significant, non-public information. If you can develop sources that will inform you whether the star quarterback is returning from injury, you can use that information to beat the betting lines. The sportsbooks might eventually stop taking your bets if you win too much, but you won’t go to jail for it.

That edge rarely exists in finance, because of systemic risk. The United States has constructed a whole set of regulations and investor protections to mitigate the downside risk of all this “Riverian” gambling, and guard against crime. Poker players, sports bettors, and venture capitalists flourish in regulatory gray zones, where the rules are less well-defined and the edges are available if you’re smart and you’re willing to hustle.

But the second reason is that it invites us to ponder whether there’s any societal value to all this gambling. The stock market may essentially be gambling, but it is a type of gambling that produces valuable byproduct information. Through the activity of the stock market, we are able to gauge aggregate investor opinion on the state and worth of publicly traded companies. What is the social benefit of building an equivalent marketplace for establishing the betting line on NBA games? Sophisticated sports bettors may have a better read than DraftKings on whether the Washington Wizards should be 7.5- or 8-point underdogs in their season opener. But what value does that add to the quality of play, or the fan experience, or anything at all? Why incur and encourage all the systemic risk, when the societal value is effectively nil?

Silver asks and answers none of these questions himself. In the rare passages of the book where he offers some critique of Riverian excess, he makes sure to reassure the reader that he is “not a prude.” In Chapter 8, after mentioning that the sheer, absurd concentration of wealth among Silicon Valley figures like Sam Bankman-Fried might, just maybe, be a bad thing, Silver immediately backpedals, reminding his readers that he plays “poker with venture capitalists and hedge fund guys. I’m a capitalist.”

I suspect this would be a better book if he had less to lose. I myself have been a “+EV” poker player for over 20 years, meaning I win quite a bit more than I lose. I don’t play for the same stakes as Silver, but my poker bankroll includes seven different currencies from four continents. And I can tell you that I would strongly consider committing a few misdemeanors to land a seat in one of those VC/hedge fund games. Silver doesn’t boast about his win rate, but he does let slip that the first time he was invited to play cards with Jason Calacanis and the other hosts of the All-In podcast, he “won enough money to buy a Tesla.”

If I was in Silver’s shoes, I would be wary of writing a book that could get me uninvited from those pillow-soft high-stakes poker games. He can make more money, and have more fun, by offering a gentle exploration, critique, and defense of “the River” than he would by raising questions that would make the notoriously thin-skinned VC crowd uncomfortable. Silver manages to interview a lot of powerful people who rarely speak to journalists, but when they talk to him, they tell him nothing of note.

It also is not clear whether most of the “Riverian” character traits are actually so unique. In the book’s later chapters, Silver rails against “The Village’s” public health response to the COVID-19 pandemic. Riverians, he tells us, would’ve handled the pandemic differently, because Riverians are expected-value maximizers who understand the fundamental importance of cost-benefit analysis. Hindsight does a lot of heavy lifting for him here, and the notion that public health officials are unfamiliar with cost-benefit analysis is painfully ridiculous. Cost-benefit analysis is not some arcane Riverian wisdom. It is intro-level textbook material.

Silver’s experience in the poker world has convinced him that the world should be more like poker. My own experience with poker has convinced me of the opposite. It is because I am skilled at the game that I think people ought to know what they’re getting into before sitting down at the table with me.

He’s right about one thing, though: The Riverians are indeed winning. The Wynn Casino, DraftKings.com, and Andreessen Horowitz are indeed all phenomenally profitable. The part that eludes him is the reason why. They are winning because we have constructed a system that they are well-positioned to exploit. There is a good book waiting to be written about how they have gamed the system, what it all adds up to, and what it costs the rest of us. But this book’s ambitions are much smaller than that.

[cheiyunn]

Kimisute main story [3部 ] Part 2

Side: Argonavis

[Bar]

Wataru: This is…?

Rintaro: One of our favorite bars. Usually you’d have to sign up for it but if it’s empty they’re chill if you jump on and play a few songs

Banri: True that there’s a drum set, base and even guitar but… why'd cha bring us here..?

Ryuusuke: Oooi–, is it fine to use em?

Bar owner: Yeah sure, even reserved em for you this time

Ryuusuke: Thanks!*

Rintaro: hm? …What are you loitering around for? You guys better get ready too

Yuuto: !?

Wataru: Since you suddenly dragged us along, I’m not catching the drift here…

Ryuusuke: What, y’all don’t know our lives or something?

Ryuusuke: Ain’t it obvious by now that we’ve been using support members provided by the label by now

Banri: Yeah we know that part but more like now, here now, are we supposed to be playing that part !?

Rintaro: Play the part. C’mon, get ready

--[ST//RAYTRIDE performance starts, with argo as supporting]--

Wataru: (Ah–, what is this…)

Banri: (You’re joking right, even if we’re all over the place they’re matching us..)

Yuuto: (It feels like I’m being pulled up by Tennoji-san and Yodogawa-san’s voices..)

Yuuto: (Its different from him, and also different from Ren but… this prowess is overpowering…)

Wataru: (These are… the true pros….)

--[Performance ends]--

Ryuusuke: Thanks a bunch–!

Bar owner: That's my line. Cause of your performance the mood here is completely lifted so it helps a bunch

Rintaro: Thats because we’re on friendly terms with you of course. Right? Ryuusuke

Ryuusuke: Yeah! We fancy this place alot so look forward to the next one

Bar owner: These guys over here, are they the juniors you were talking about the other day?

Ryuusuke: Yeah yeah. Well now we know they’re more jello than we thought they’d be though

Ryuusuke: Lemme borrow that place for a bit~

Rintaro: For now, take a seat

Yuuto: r…right…

Wataru: Do you frequent this place alot?

Rintaro: You could say so. We poked in and out here a few times before our major debut so I guess you can say we’ve been long time patrons

Ryuusuke: We can’t go too frequently anymore since we’ll get mobbed by fans so we’re holdin’ back

Ryuusuke: Okay. Let's switch to the main topic here

Ryuusuke: You kiddos, just like your presentation; your playing is just as sugary

Banri: …so you mean to say we’re lacking in skill…?

Rintaro: Half right, but also half wrong

Ryuusuke: I ain’t callin’ ya lacking in skill in total. But yeah, y’all got that roughness that comes with bands newly starting off

Ryuusuke: Just as I said, y’all are all ‘sugar’. Maybe ‘sweetly spoiled’ is a better word

Ryuusuke: When you hit a troubled wall somebody will help you, everyone’s all in this together holdin’ hands kinda stuff….  Its all just fluff

Banri: But, isn’t the internal workings of the band just as important right

Ryuusuke: If ya wanna go off and just casually have fun playin’, then go do it as a side hobby or something

Yuuto: ….!

Rintaro: If you’re really looking into going pro, the current rate you’re at needs to change, stat.

Ryuusuke: …On that note! The special advice lesson cuts off here!

Wataru: sorry…?

Ryuusuke: What, ya thought we’d go from a to z or somethin’?

Ryuusuke: Do we look like a pair of nice seniors like that to you?

Rintaro: Ryuusuke in actuality is a nice person though 

Ryuusuke: Rin-chan ya didn’t need to add that in

Ryuusuke: Yeah but he actually wanted to put a word in with Nanahoshi directly but yeah… maybe it can hold off ‘til next time

Ryuusuke: So, we’re gonna log out now so y’all better hurry back

--[They leave]--

Banri: …hah, from start to finish I don’t get them

Wataru: Yeah… but saying all that, they were amazing. Yu? You’re spacing out, something wrong?

Yuuto: Hm? Oh… oh, yeah… We’re going back right

Banri: Yeah. It feels out of place for us to be here anyways so…

Banri: Ren-kun’s pair, are probably already at home right…?

[Park]

--[A while back]--

Ren: r…Rio, wait!

Rio: Nanahoshi

Ren: Um… about Yuuto

Rio: Yeah, I get it. At the moment, Yuuto is trying to hold it out alone

Rio: …well, there’s also a feeling of disappointment that he didn’t come to talk it out either..

Ren: Same here… I wonder if Yuuto is really okay

Rio: Once some time has passed and he has all his thoughts in place, I’m sure he’ll explain it 

.

— — —

* He says more of the casual equivalent to ‘ty’ I suppose but I’m unsure if it’ll come off easily