#this'll make you whistle

[thatfinewine]

THE RICK AND MORTY SEASON 8 FIRST LOOK JUST DROPPED!

( twitter, youtube )

Typed up and added the script to this post just because. :D

- - - - - - - - - - - ✂

(The scene opens with Rick and Morty listening to a true crime podcast in their spaceship.)

Podcaster voice: You're about to learn the horrible fate of the Oak Point High lacrosse team, whose annual retreat took a bloody turn... But this podcast isn't about autopsies or graphic reports or their fascinating murders. We're not here to do that--

(Both look annoyed. Rick turns off the podcast.)

Rick: Too bad, someone else will.

Morty: It's a big market, man.

(The ship gives an alert and shows a model of a large spacecraft.)

Ship: Cryo-Ship detected.

Rick: Ooh, power's still online! (Burps.) What do you think, Morty? A bunch of sleeping beauties? Wanna go tap on some glass?

Morty: That could be fun! We- we haven't done one of those in a while. Think they have a basketball court?

Rick: Basketball court, huh?

Morty: Ball is life!

(They fly to and land inside the cryo-ship. Rick turns on the lights and whistles. They start walking around, looking at the cryo-pods with aliens placed into cryo-sleep inside of them.)

Rick: Holy shit! Look at this place! Damn, Morty! It ain't just your run-of-the-mill arc ship. This thing is gold-plated!

(Morty knocks on the glass of one of the cryo-pods.)

Morty: Wow. Where do you think they're going? Colonizing a new planet?

(Rick accesses the ship's computer and laughs at what he sees.)

Rick: Heh, looks like these guys flung themselves into space after wrecking their homeworld. This'll be like taking candy from a baby... if that baby was in a coma!

Morty: Oh! We're- we're robbing them?

(Rick gestures to the computer screen.)

Rick: They robbed their planet first, Morty.

(The two find a giant sealed vault door and run up to it.)

Rick: Whoa, mama! You see this, Morty? This thing is fancy! Computer said it's got super-rare hyper-coal inside. The planet they left is a husk, Morty! They sucked their marble dry!

(Rick attempts to get inside by pressing a button on the vault computer. The vault computer denies him entry.)

Cryo-ship computer voice: Access denied.

Rick: ...Huh.

(Rick frowns and removes a device from his labcoat and puts it on top of the vault's computer, trying to hack his way in. The vault computer beeps twice, showing he is still denied access.)

Rick: Alright, on second thought, let's just blow a hole in the ship and drag the vault home.

Morty: WHAT?!

(Rick ignores him and pulls out a bag from his labcoat.)

Rick: Help me with these charges.

Morty: Rick, I'm fine with taking candy from a baby, but I draw the line at blowing up the stroller!

(Morty grabs the bag of explosives. He and Rick start fighting over it.)

Rick: What the hell, Morty! We're not LITERALLY robbing babies!

(The bag tears and Morty falls backward. The explosives in the bag fly across the floor. One hits the floor and activates.)

Rick: Goddamnit, Morty! Look what you did!

(Rick activates a forcefield to shield them from the blast as the device explodes. An alarm from the cryo-ship's speakers begins blaring as fire spreads from the explosion. Sprinklers from the ceiling turn on and begin raining water down to try to put out the fire.)

Cryo-ship computer voice: Fire detected. Emergency cryo-wake commencing in 30 seconds…

(Morty starts running up the stairs back to the main area of the cryo-ship, and Rick follows behind him.)

Rick: You little shit! You woke 'em up!

Morty: Fine! Let's get out of here!

(Rick grabs the collar of Morty's shirt and yanks him back. Rick types something into the cryo-ship computer.)

Rick: Fuck you! I'm not leaving without that hyper-coal!

(The ship shows a red X over two of the cryo-pods, both on separate levels of the ship. Rick starts pulling his own ears into points to make himself look like the aliens inside of the cryo-pods.)

Rick: Now go find that other pod with a dead guy in it!

(Rick pulls Morty's ears into points as Morty yelps like it hurts.)

Morty: Hey!

(Rick continues talking over him.)

Rick: Sub-bay 18!

Morty: What dead guy?!

(Rick begins removing his own clothes so he's naked like the aliens in the other cryo-pods.)

Rick: Just get in the pod with the bones! Or don't and get thrown out an airlock!

(Rick grabs the skeleton from the open pod and puts it into a box. He puts the box inside of a small chamber, closing the door and hiding the box. Rick climbs inside of the now empty cryo-pod.)

Cryo-ship computer voice: Cryo-wake in 10 seconds…

Morty: RICK!

Rick: You did this to yourself, Morty! Your dumb-ass moral compass has really fucked things up!

(Rick slams the cryo-pod closed. Morty screams in panic and starts running to find the other cryo-pod to hide in.)

Morty: Oh God! Oh jeez!

(Rick and Morty title card.)

[justwhisperingfantasies]

Thank you @chevroletdean for the request <3 I hope I did you proud

Pairing: Dean Winchester-x-Reader

Warnings: Language, Drinking, Smut, Dirty Talk, Finger, Masturbation, Unprotected P.I.V (no!), Little Bit Of Story Whole Lot Of Smut. If I Missed Anything Lmk

Word Count: 2k-ish

Prompt: 7- finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc)

Special Thanks To My Beta Boo <3 @copperboom82

My Master List

My Tag List

NSFW Prompt Request List

"I know, that piece was just exquisite," you said, pretending like you knew what the stiff old bats were talking about.

'Damn Winchesters' you thought - of course they would call in a favor on this case. Your eyes narrowed as you found him across the room, champagne glass in hand, smirk on his face… his dimples deepened as he raised the glass with a jump of his eyebrows. His head lifted and you could hear his laugh when you mouthed the word 'ass'.

"Hannah…" Your attention shot back to the older ladies in front of you when you heard your fake name. "What did you think about the Springfield Gala last month?"

"Oh, it was just exquisite," you said, internally rolling your eyes.

"Wasn't the Reynolds piece just to die for?"

"Oh yea, I really liked-" Dean grabbed your elbow and kept walking, pulling you away from the conversation. "Excuse me ladies," you called back with burning cheeks, "Dean, what are you doing?"

He smiled as he stayed silent, his hand slipped down your forearm, grabbing your hand he spun you as you joined the other couples on the black and white checkered dance floor.

"I thought you didn't dance," you quipped as his right arm wrapped around your waist.

"I don't, I just need an excuse to do this," he said, tightening his hold. Your breath hitched as his chest pressed up against yours.

"Mr. Winchester, that's very inappropriate," you teased.

"I could think of a couple other inappropriate things I'd love to do you right now…" His hot breathed tickled your ear, making you core thrum to life.

"Oh, do tell."

"This dress," he murmured, his fingers trailed up the seam of the ope back, lightly grazing your skin, sending shivers through you. "As amazing as it looks on you, would have to go."

"And then what would you do?" you breathed back into his ear, making a low growl rumble in his chest.

"I could just show you."

"Right here, right now?" you challenged with a raise of your brows.

"Oh, sweetheart, don't tempt me."

Dean sighed once the music stopped, hesitantly releasing you from his embrace, and the applause of the coward echoed through the room.

"George," you overheard the woman next to you as the clapping died down. "Thelma said the wine cellar they just put in down stairs is elegant, I think we should build one."

Dean's eyebrow quirked as his head turned to you and you tilted your head, a smirk dancing on your lips. He looked at you for a moment, then pulled you away again, rushing to the hallway.

"Seriously?!" He huffed, opening another door, yet again finding a coat closet. "Which fucking door is it?"

"Hey guys." Dean's eyes closed, letting out a hefty sigh when Sam approached the two of you "Have you found anything yet?"

"Not now, Sammy," Dean snapped, leading you away again.

"Bye, Sam."

Sam scoffed. "Freakin' rabbits."

"Finally," Dean exclaimed when he found the cellar door. "After you."

"You know, all this searching has made me kinda tired, I think-"

"Go," he demanded, pointing down the stairs.

You did as you were told, your pulse quickening with every step, and you felt his eyes on your back. You let out a whistle when you reached the last step, entering the fanciest cellar you had ever seen.

"Yeah, this'll do," Dean teased with a smirk.

You glanced back over your shoulder, catching him as he watched your swaying hips; you smiled and continued wandering towards the table that sat in the middle of the room. A grimace crossed your face as the chair screeched when you pulled in out from under the table.

Dean chuckled, "Is that for me?"

"Nope," you quipped, making him smile.

His finger flew to his tie as he swaggered over, letting the solid black piece fall to the floor after he pulled it from around his neck.

Dean turned his head as he sat down, licking his lips as you slid the straps of your dress down you arms, his lower lip caught in his teeth when the cool air of the cellar hardened the peaks of your breast.

As you stepped behind him, you put your hands on his cheeks. "Stay," you ordered, keeping his gaze forward.

"Now, that's not fair," he protested, but obeying when you moved your hands.

"Oh, Mr. Winchester," you muttered stepping out of your dress. "Hasn't anyone ever told you life isn't fair?"

He grabbed your wrist as you threw the fabric on the table, guiding you in front of him. His lustful jade irises looked you up and down as he drank in the sight.

A hiss left his lips as you sat down, brushing your core against his shaft as you straddled him. His hands roamed, cupping when they stopped on your breast. A soft moan pushed past your lips as he started kneading the soft tissue. You hips rolled as you leaned back, your hands gripping his knees.

Taking in a sharp breath, Dean's finger's gripped your hips as you continued the motion. "Damn, baby," he sighed. You smirked, feeling his bulge hardening against your core.

"Dean…" you cooed when he pushed your hips, making them go faster.

"Mmm, does my little princess like that?" he taunted through his grunts.

"Mhmm," you managed as you felt the tension in your stomach start to build.

"You like when my hard cock rubs against that pretty little pussy?" His hands forced your hips down harder, making your head fall back as the pleasure rippled through your body.

"Fuck..." you moaned, the tension getting closer to it's peak with every grind.

"Oh, but not yet, sweetheart," he teased, stopping your hips.

"Damn it, De-" your words caught in your throat as he suddenly rose to his feet, his hungry lips capturing your ass he gripped your ass.

His fingers twisted in your hair once he sat you on the table, the others resting lightly around you throat as his tongued rolled onto yours. Another growl rumbled as your hand rubbed his cock through his pants.

His fingers tightened slightly, leading your back to lay flat on the cool wood. Teasing you with a skim of his fingers over your panties as he stood back up. His hazy eyes watched as you squirmed with anticipation. He smirked, slowly unbuttoning his white shirt.

"You're taking too long," you sighed as your fingers trailed down your stomach, his brows raised when they slipped under the silk.

"I might just take longer…" He smiled, and with a shake of his arms the jacket and shirt dropped to the ground. Your fingers quickened as your eyes danced over his bare chest. "Keep going." Pushing your panties to the side, he slid a finger deep inside of you. "Is this what you what…" he whispered sliding a second finger in, "you want me to fill that tight cunt of yours?"

"Fuck… Dean," you moaned as he started pumping his finger, while circling your clit with your own.

"Is that a yes?" he teased as he curled his fingers, smiling when your cried out. You nodded, the building tension in your stomach making it hard to speak. "Words baby."

"Yes… Fuck… Please," you managed through your moans, your walls clenching around his fingers as the tension started to reach its peak.

"Come on my fingers first," he demanded, grazing your sweet spot again. With a moan of his name the tension toppled over, sending waves of pure bliss through your entire being. "Mmm, that's it," Dean murmured as your walls pulsed on his slowing fingers.

You whined when he removed his finger, making him chuckle. "Kinda need them, sweetheart," he said giving you a wink.

Your hips wiggled in anticipation as you heard the ting from his belt buckle hitting the tile floor. His arms wrapped around your legs, pulling your ass to the edge of the table, lifting your hips as his fingers tugged on the hem of your panties, tossing them over his shoulders once they slid passed your toes.

He pushed your knees down, spreading your legs again. "You ready?" he smirked, sliding his tip through your glistening slit.

"Yes."

"How bad do you want?"

"So… fucking bad… please baby."

He licked his lips, biting the bottom one as he buried his cock inside of you. "Fuck.. " he breathed.

You gasped as the pleasure and pain of him stretching your walls coursed through your veins. He laid his hand on your pelvis, rubbing his thumb over your swollen clit, making you moan his name again.

He pulled his hips back, thrusting back in slowly with a groan of your name. "So… god damn… tight," he breathed, loving the way your walls enveloped his cock.

The creases in your forehead slowly eased out as the pain vanished, leaving just the pleasure. He noticed, quickening the pace of his hips. Heavy breaths and moans reverberated through the cellar as his hips pounded against the back of your thighs.

"Look at you," he growled, not slowing down. "Taking my dick... so good baby." His words make the tension start building again, and you moaned praises of his name.

He smiled as he pulled out, and a frown formed at the emptiness. Lifting your legs, he rested them on the same shoulder, pressing his lips to your knee as he drove back into you, His thrust coming hard and fast, pushing the tension to its peak, you closed your eyes as the satisfaction swept through you.

"Come on," Dean murmured as you walls clenched again, letting him know you were close, "give it to me." Chasing your climax he thrusted as fast as he could, finding your clit with his finger again and coaxing the orgasm out of you with ease. Shivers trickled through your body as the bliss crashed over you once more.

"Baby…" Dean groaned as you convulsed around him, pushing him to his breaking point. And with another loud grunt he plunged deep, filling you with his warm seed. Grabbing your wrist he pulled your lips back to his, sitting you up on the table again.

With a hazy mind you stepped back into your dress. Dean came up behind you already dressed and helped you pull the straps back on your shoulders. "I love you," he whispered, wrapping his arms around you.

"I love you, too, Dean," you told him nuzzling into his embrace.

"Hey!" Your eyes shot to the stairs as the older man yelled. "What are you doing down here?"

"Just admiring your new wine cellar," Dean nodded as he looked around the room. "It's nice. Kinda echoey, but nice." He smirked.

"Oh. They just finished it last week," the man told him.

"Well, darling," Dean looked over at you "How 'bout that champagne now?"

"Please, I am parched."

Chuckling as he started for the stairs, he bent over once the man's back was turned, tucking your panties in his pocket after he grabbed them off the floor. "What?" he asked as your eyes narrowed. "For safe keeping, sweetheart."

Dean's Tag List:

@nightxcreature @kamisobsessed @perpetualabsurdity @barnes70stark @wonderland2022

@jackles010378 @mqdhvtter @quietgirll75 @nancymcl @hobby27

@hunter-or-the-hunted @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @gardenofeden07 @deansimpalababy @roseblue373 @1313diana @lmg14 @aand13b @spnaquakindgdom

@amberlthomas @mochminnie @vampieheartz @idk6505

@kr804573 @jtink27

[yanderes-galore]

Oooh since you want dark stuff how would yandere Alastor who falls for the reader , deal with love rivals 👀

You know he's planning something horrible.

Yandere! Alastor dealing with rivals

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic (Dubious on true intentions)

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Sadism, Violence, Blood, Murder, Threats, Mentioned torture, Forced companionship/relationship.

You can bet that Alastor doesn't want anyone touching what's his.

He is a demon who knows what he wants... and will get it no matter what it takes.

Honestly, he'd be bad if he didn't own your soul... and even worse if he did.

I mean... we've seen how scary he can get in the show, right?

For example, remember when he was protecting the Hotel?

Yeah....

Except... if he feels someone has wronged him by touching you... then he'll draw things out.

Trust me, Alastor will know if someone had gotten too close to you.

He can almost smell another demon's stink on you.

This concept will focus on general behavior with demons, although with bigger names his approach would be different.

For example, Vox.

The Overlord most likely wouldn't get close to you without Alastor knowing.

For this concept... maybe you have some friends who are lesser demons.

Another thing we've seen is how others act around Alastor.

Y'know... other demons run and hide or just straight up... well... die.

So imagine if you had friends who felt they could be close to you.

Honestly, Alastor tolerated it since they seemed brave enough to stand before him.

Or stupid... it depends.

If you were talking to your friend or a potential partner... Alastor would interrupt.

I think the exchange would be even scarier if he did own your soul.

He acts charismatic as usual.

He pulls you aside and against him, a permanent grin as he greets those around you.

He's oddly charming... even though he's irritated that he has to share what's his with them.

Perhaps to even prove a point he'll summon the chain around your neck.

If that doesn't show ownership... then they're dense.

He's possessive... ears flicking as he introduces himself.

They better know he's an Overlord.

Alastor can do basic intimidation like any other demon, but the fun part to him is more... violent.

Perhaps your "friends" aren't swayed by his presence.

Maybe they actually try to stand up for you.

Maybe they try to court you anyways?

Or maybe someone hurts you...?

Point is, if they haven't died yet, they will.

Alastor sees no issue in a bit of torture.

He's probably done far worse.

A quick death is merciful for those Alastor considers rivals.

However, if you had a lover or someone similarly close... Alastor likes to drag out their fate.

His own intentions with you are dubious at best.

Can't really call him a lover, can't really call him a friend...

Perhaps he's a master? Even then... you can never read him.

Alastor would love to tie a rival down and play with them a bit.

He'd get as bloody as he wants, he'd listen to their screams like it's the radio.

He can only laugh as they beg.

No one messes with the radio demon's things.

They should've cowered away like the rest.

Now they're dead at Alastor's claws, all while he whistles away and prepares to see you again.

When you don't see them again, you aren't dumb.

You have a feeling they've angered Alastor.

If you were close with this person or tried to use them to get away from Alastor... He'd make you listen to their screams.

Alastor enjoys dealing with rivals.

He thrives off their pain, this is the same demon who's kill Overlords after all.

Safe to say... you aren't getting away from Alastor.

No one's going to be able to help you...

Their screams are a warning to behave for Alastor... even if you hate it.

"Oh, Darling! You have new friends~ This'll be fun, won't it~?"

[indijewnous]

i really, really hope you genuinely have some time to sit down and imagine and research what youre saying from one jew to another. your posts are batshit insane, they are pumped full of nazi dog whistles and white supremacist shit and you don't consider how "taking back israel" is literally a continuation of the genocide against our people and now furthering a genocide of another people. in the catholic Bible one of the biggest causations for the rapture is all jews being in israel. its a catholic believe thats been forced on our people to send us somewhere to get rid of us. genuinely, i doubt this will get through to you, but please please try to break out of white supremacist brainwashing you've fallen into. i cant believe you're sitting there saying someone telling you youre not a leftist for being anticommunist is "black and white" thinking. its literally fucking political labels, if you don't believe in a core tennant of a political party, then that political party likely isn't the right one for you. saying that isnt black and white thinking. you make me ashamed to be jewish, going around calling people "blacks." its to the point where theres no way you're a real person, and i'm sure this'll be the thing you latch onto. but you sound so unbelievably evil that its so clear that you're just another voice amongst grifter seas who prioritize fake quantifiable money than, you know. an entire group of people you're "state" is actively bombing. i wish you could get better. you deserve better and to be a happier person, but holy shit. this is a hole you've dug so deep. 🤷

that makes absolutely no sense. the nazis wanted to kill Jews. Israel wants to protect Jews from being killed. Hamas is closer to nazis and they praise hitler. did you know that they name things after hitler?

also, idgaf if catholics or evengelicals or whatever want us ruptured. they won't get their wish but they'll keep throwing money at us in the delusion that it will. their fault for being psychos

also, if Jews aren't white in Europe, we're not white anywhere else eitehr. you can't keep throwing around "white supremacist" and hope it eventually sticks. that's crazy talk

[mango-sp1ce]

Out of Sight (Out of Mind)

Danny hopped from foot to foot as he waited, constantly shifting his weight about. The store smelt strongly of herbs and spices. There were crystals on the walls and other things strewn about the area. It all looked so... cheesy. fake.

Makes for a pretty good coverup, he'd have to say.

With the sound of movement behind the counter, Danny stopped wriggling about and stood still. He leaned towards the counter and crossed his arms on top of it, his face already breaking into a grin as the person made their way to the front.

"What is it this time? I was slee- Oh." A cranky accented voice said as they made their way to the counter. They paused after making eye contact with him, before pulling a face.

Danny smirked at the man, before tossing the papers he'd been holding onto the counter.

Constantine didn't even try to protest, instead leaning forwards onto the counter as well to look over the papers. He let out a whistle as he shuffled them about, flipping through grainy photos from surveillance cameras.

"A big one, eh?" Constantine asks, flipping to a different photo before pausing. He groans, before letting the paper relax in his hands so that Danny can see the top of it as it curls. "And the bats are involved. You're not serious, are you?"

"Serious as the dead, Connie." Danny replies, pulling the picture from his hands. It's a grainy night vision camera photo of what looks to be a group of people in costume making their way down an alleyway covered in bright decals. "And I'd rather I don't actually cross paths with them. You can talk with them all you want, but I'd rather follow their lead."

"And you think they won't notice you?" The blonde asks. He's pulled all of the papers into a messy pile in his hands. Danny doesn't respond with an answer, instead winking before handing over the image for the pile.

He turns and begins to walk out, Constantine letting out a tired sigh as he moves around the counter to follow. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

"Yeah. It'll do you some good, though. Wouldn't be in this position if you weren't so fond of making bets. Maybe this'll teach you to stop making them." Danny replies, stepping out of the store and holding the door open for the older man.

"Yeah yeah. Consequences of my actions, and all that. Can we just get a move on?" Constantine grumbles, pulling a cigarette from somewhere in his trench coat as he looks about the street.

Danny rolls his eyes. And the cigarette rolls up into a ball in between Constantine's fingers, before rolling out of existence.

"First rule; no smoking around minors."

[bumblesimagines]

"Did you just show up conveniently, or is this another act in your never-ending drama?"

"Do they even know how much energy you're spending on their behalf?"

- Valerio Montesinos

"Did you just show up conveniently, or is this another act in your never-ending drama?"

"Do they even know how much energy you're spending on their behalf?"

pronouns:

"How many people did you invite, Rebe? It was supposed to be a small gathering amongst friends, not the whole damn school!" You watched the steady wave of students flow into your house, some faces familiar and others strangers. They tossed aside their belongings and made a mess of things as they roamed around the house, swaying to the music and drinking whatever they could get their hands on.

"Come on, (Y/N)! It's your 18th birthday." Rebeka cackled with glee, practically bouncing on her heels. "I promise this'll be a night you'll thank me for."

"Yeah, tell yourself that tomorrow when you help me clean up this mess." You sighed heavily and turned away from the protesting brunette, heading deeper into your house and praying your classmates behaved themselves.

"(Y/N)!"

"Ugh, fuck." You groaned and ran a hand over your face. The party was a headache you could nurse with beer, but an snobby ex-girlfriend? Nothing could nurse that sort of headache. You turned on your heel and regarded the blonde with lifted brows.

"We need to talk."

"We've talked already. You ditched me for your ex and the new kid and now one of them is gone. Go crawling back to Polo if you're lonely, Carla."

"Ooh, ouch." And the night got shittier. Your jaw clenched involuntarily at the mere sound of Valerio's voice. The boy had been a thorn in your side since he'd set foot in the school. From his constant pestering to his dealing to the way he never seemed to shut up, he got on each and every single one of your nerves. Even his sister looked exhausted of his molly-induced antics.

"Not now, Valerio." You groaned again and turned away from the curly-haired boy but he simply followed you through the crowd of bodies hanging around. He quickened his pace and slung an arm around your shoulder, one you quickly shoved away. "Did you just show up conveniently, or is this another act in your never-ending drama? You gonna try to sell me something? Or are you gonna swoop in, try to be a knight, and make a fool of yourself as always?"

"Someone's in a mood." Valerio whistled, whisking away a cup of god-knows-what from someone's hand and tossing a wink at them when they complained.

"Just fuck off."

"Have a drink, my angel." Valerio grinned cheekily and stepped infront of you, pressing the cup against your chest. He leaned in, bumping his nose against yours with twinkling eyes. "And happy birthday."

"Whatever." You muttered and took the cup from him, sparing him one last annoyed glance and slipping further into the crowd. Valerio watched you go with a small smile, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Stepping out of the crowd with her fingers wrapped around a pretty glass cup, Lu eyed her brother with raised brow and stepped closer. She followed his line of sight and snorted, shaking her head with a pitiful frown. "Do they even know how much energy you're spending on their behalf?"

"No." Valerio muttered. "But they'll see it eventually."

[galamalion]

୨୧. 𝐏𝐔𝐌𝐏𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍'

summary. you and sanji go on a date to pick out some perfect pumpkins for the season.

⤷ contents. vinsmoke sanji x gn!reader, fluff + romance, sanji being a sweetheart

⤷ notes. hello! i'm going to try and write a lot until the end of october in order to get out all my halloween ideas, so this'll be the first! enjoy this little pumpkin date <3

autumn was your favorite season for a very long list of reasons.

first of all, its beauty had no comparison. watching the leaves change colors from emerald to cherry red all over the course of a couple weeks was a sight you could never tire of, in awe of nature’s power over its creations.

secondly, the anticipation for halloween was impossible to ignore, and you already had both your costume picked out and a list of activities to take part in the moment the calendar turned october first.

and lastly, the flavors that arose during the chilly season were absolutely exquisite. a hot apple cider for those cold afternoons, or a slice of pumpkin pie made by your one and only personal chef.

“ah, mon chou~! how about this one?” he called out, holding a pumpkin high above his head for you to see.

sanji really was a dream come true, acting as your prince during your weekly fall outings, participating alongside your autumnal activities. he would find you the most brilliantly red leaf among a raked up pile, helped to sew your matching costumes, and he would make your favorite fall treats for you! he was attentive, elegant, and the greatest boyfriend you would ever get.

“a little bigger, sweetie! i wanna do some pumpkin carving with it!” you shouted back, scouring the field for your dream pumpkin,

“oui!” he exclaimed, gently setting the pumpkin back onto the ground. 

you grabbed a nearby small pumpkin, “how about this one, sanji?” you asked, spinning it around for him to see.

“less blemishes, sweetheart! i’m looking for firm and plump!” you didn’t miss the way he wiggled his eyebrows at you, drawing an eye roll from you in response.

an hour of pumpkin judging passed between you two, and a few contenders had risen to your high standards. you carried around five tiny pumpkins in your tote bag, though sanji was aiming for ten due to luffy’s voracious appetite. sanji was hauling two perfectly symmetrical pumpkins, one for each of you to use.

the sun hadn’t quite set yet, a glow still rested on the field for you and sanji to continue picking, but the sky was slowly beginning to fill with oranges and pinks which cast a pastel shimmer of color across your face. sanji stared at your appearance from across the field, taking in the way the soft light struck your visage and framed you beautifully, like a divinity choosing to grace him with your presence. 

“you think ten will really be enough for luffy?” you shouted, picking up a pumpkin to examine it.

sanji snapped back to attention, blinking rapidly as he formulated his thoughts, “i- well i suppose no, when taking his prior portion sizes into account…and if we invite sabo and ace there as well…” 

“at least sabo has manners!” you yelled, chucking any spoiled pumpkins over your shoulder. “i once saw ace use someone else’s pants as a napkin! not even his own! can you believe that, sanji?”

sanji’s focus once again faltered, watching as your lips moved wildly in your frustrated-amused rant. god, how he wanted to kiss you right now. i mean, you both deserve a break right now, right? you’ve been working so hard these past few hours…a little break never hurt anybody, right?

you continued raving and skipped across the fields, unaware of sanji’s devious musings, searching for some more perfect pumpkins for your perfect boyfriend. your deep and intense focus on your little pumpkin hunt led to you missing your perfect boyfriend disappearing from his row of pumpkins, silently creeping up behind you. 

“oh mon ange,” he whistled, “i believe just found the prettiest pumpkin in the pumpkin patch!” his slender, long fingers wrapped around your waist, lifting you high above and eliciting a shriek.

“put me down, you sneak!” you teased, jokingly kicking your legs in an attempt to get loose of his hold.

“but then my pumpkin might run away!” he lamented, twirling you around in circles, sidestepping any precarious pumpkins in the way of his feet. 

“as if i’d run away from you,” you replied, trying to ruffle his blonde locks up in the air.

sanji contemplated your words, throwing you down into a bridal carry while he pondered your response. after a minute of totally-real reflection, he flashed you a big ol’ pout.

“you pinky promise?” he whined, kneeling to the ground with you still in his arms, slipping his arm out from under your knees to offer a pinky.

“i pinky promise, my love.” you kissed him on the forehead, causing a heavy flush to don his cheeks and he rolled around the dirt-covered fields in bliss.

you approached his squirming body and gently touched him with the tip of your foot. “get up, mr. prince, i still need someone to carry our pumpkins!” you sung, slinging your bag across your shoulders and attempting to heave sanji to his feet, “unless you’d like me to leave you here…”

immediately sanji arose in dramatic fashion, sprinting back to grab the pumpkins he had abandoned. with ease he lifted them, returning back to your side as if he wasn't carrying two extremely heavy gourds.

“your prince is here! now what are your next commands, my liege?” he announced, dropping to one knee and kissing your hand.

“hmmm…” you brought your hand to your chin, tapping it in 'deep' thought, “you have to help me find more of your pie-pumpkins, and then we can go home and make cider!” you cheered, grasping his hand and running towards the baby pumpkins.

“anything for you, mon amour,” he swooned, watching the sun cast a luminous amber glow across your skin, “anything for you.”

[sparklingmineraltequila]

American Wasteland

Note: I suck at first chapters. Summer's here and I want to be somewhat productive, so this'll be my baby for the next months. Terrified by posting this given the sheer quality of other Rust fics and 'True Detective', itself. Updates are coming cause it's deliberately vague

'Don't fucking patronise me,' Cassandra spits, yanking out her packet of Marlboro Golds that are wedged between her calf and her cowboy boot. She palms the clammy pack, lighting up with trembling hands and raw nail beds.

'Stop acting like a fuckin' kid and I'll stop treatin' you like one,' Rust retorts, his stoic disposition almost managing to veil his simmering anger, only betrayed by the whites of his knuckles gripping the steering wheel.

'I appreciate you doing this and all, I really do, but don"t get it fucking twisted, Crash: you ain't my friend, you ain't my boyfriend and you sure as hell ain't my daddy.'

'You think this is some type territorial shit?' Rust grits out, the mounting rancour starting to permeate his tone. He looks over and plucks the cigarette from her lips, his tone mellowing to a drawl when he says 'You have no business smoking at your age.'

'I'm twenty.'

'Exactly.'

The blasé dismissal sends Cassandra into a mute rage; one she sees as a veritable demonstration of indignance. Rust, however, likens it more to a petulant child's tantrum. After a couple minutes, she's licked her wounds enough to pipe up,

'Nietzsche would agree with me, you know? I'm emerging from the confines of my slave morality and becoming an 'Untermenschen' through exercising courage and free will through smoking and, thus, breaking socio-cultural norms.'

Rust runs a hand over his stubble, more to hide the twitch of a smile than to express any real chagrin. 'I should've never leant you that book. Only thing I've done is encourage that smart ass mouth of yours.'

'You want me to be nice and docile? I can be sweet if you want, baby. Real sweet,' manoeuvring her body so that she's kneeling on the truck's bench, body pressed to his side. He gives her a side-long look, face impassive. Cassandra probably couldn't be sweet if her damn life depended on it. Actually, it had often depended on the exact opposite. Girls as beautiful as Cassandra don't make it this far unless they've got a brain to match the legs and a razor-blade wit to match their syrupy eyes. Rust knows he'd rather be fucking lacerated than choke in that thick molasses of her seduction. He was too damn smart and too damn jaded to be affected by a girl with the ass of a stripper and the face of one of those fucking shampoo models, the ones he'd see on the screen at the bar, during a big game's commercial break; hiding his adolescent flush of arousal from his father with his hunting jacket's sleeve.

Too cynical. Too exhausted. Too fucked up. But here he was: enough coke in him to alert Medellin's DEA and with Cassandra in his truck, now busy taking off her tight, leather jacket.

'Put that on again. Now.'

'Scared you'll see something you like?'

'Not on a twenty year old.'

'Most guys would see that as a turn on.'

'I ain't most guys.'

'No shit,' she slumps back into the truck bench, picking at the slight fray of her miniskirt. He pulls into some derelict diner, the neon light of the sign seeping into the crevices of his eyes and permeating into his brain. Nausea quickly follows and turns to a deep malaise. Then panic. A panic symptomatic of one he felt with Sofia.

Sofia. Does he see Sofia in Cassandra? The traces of juvenility in how she slumps in his truck like a scolded child. The mercy of an answer comes fast:

No. What he wants to do to Cassandra is anything but paternal.

'Get out. We're getting something to eat,' he says gruffly and, for once, she complies. 'Instinct,' he thinks, 'girls like Cassandra don't turn down a payed meal.' He watches as she hops out of the truck, her taught, tan limbs striding across the lot, cowboy boots clacking on still hot asphalt. A few truckers stare, some whistle. She knows they're looking, she doesn't care. Cassandra isn't one to entertain male attraction based on vanity. No, she has a perspicacity about her that only comes from blood, grit and experience of the sharp end of male entitlement. Not like the usual hookers or hang-ons that the Iron Crusaders frequented; women who needed to be spoon-fed dollops of dulcet encouragement, always wanting to be told how good they were for him, how badly he wanted them. Wants he had yet to facilitate. No, Cassandra was a different type of hungry. Hungry enough to know that spoon feeding was dangerous; it allows the giver to withhold, to control. Cassandra knew that sometimes you had to lick it off of the jagged edges yourself.

'You coming, baby?' Cassandra calls to him, snapping him out of his train of thought. Not doubt, using the pet name to get a rise out of him. He walks over, not deigning her teasing with a reaction and walking inside the diner. She follows him, sliding into the same booth.

'Hardly even looking at me, huh? For a member of a fucking biker gang, you're very sanctimonious.'

He bristles, knowing she didn't mean it that way. How the fuck would she even know? It doesn't matter, one slip up and he gets a bullet to his head. Not that, with the way his capillaries throb and the sky and ground begin to bleed into one to the soundtrack of Sofia's gurgled choke, after a particularly loaded syringe, he wouldn't welcome it. Either way, he has to mitigate any suspicion.

'You ain't woman enough, yet, baby.'

He sees the hurt flash in her eyes. 'Good,' he thinks 'Better it hurt than I drag you down with me.' Ever the tenacious one, Cassandra almost immediately re-contrives her prior indifference,

'Your 'brothers' think different.'

He clenches his jaw.

'You gonna be this tightly wound, all the time?'

'Not if you behave.'

'I'm just making conversation.'

'You're a smart girl, Cass. I'm sure you can think of another topic aside from my aversion to fucking 20 year olds.'

The waitress comes to take their orders, looking pitifully at Cassandra, and then with indignation at Rust. 'Good,' he thinks, knowing damn well how a bloodshot biker, reading of malt liquor and Camels, must look next to a barely clothed young girl. Cassandra seems to relish the sordid appearance of them together, overtly pressing her tits over the table's edge, faux-innocence on display as she asks if he wants syrup with that.

'No,' he says frigidly, to both her and the waitress; the waitress taking that as her cue to leave. After a few minutes, Cassandra asks,

'If you don't want to have sex with me, why are you helping me out like this?'

'I'm not purely driven by my libido, Cass.'

'Most men are.'

'Fair enough,' he retorts dryly, the twitch of a barely perceptible smile on his lips.

'Don't avoid the question. You're not doing this out of pure fucking altruism.'

'Big words, baby,' noting the roll of her eyes, but also how her collarbones tinge pink at the praise.

'You're doing it again.'

He relinquishes, 'Because I sure as hell ain't altruistic but I ain't a complete monster, either. You may be tough but a girl like you out on the street...' His expression turns grim. 'You ain't lastin' the night. I can keep you safe.'

'What's your price, Crash?' eyeing him with trepidation.

'Here she is,' Rust thinks.

'Nothing. I just want you to get out of this goddamn American wasteland.'

'I don't trust you.'

'You shouldn't.'

'That's what the better people usually say.'

'I ain't no better than any motherfucker in your life, baby.'

She hums, unconvinced. 'So..I can stay with you, then? Just until I get back on my feet.'

He nods and, to his concealed amusement, she sits up a little straighter. He eyes her, wondering whether to nip her juvenile infatuation at the bud, but allows her it. Who knows the last time she allowed herself the luxury of genuine attraction.

'One question,' he breaks the silence, 'Why Cassandra?' She looks at him as if he's crazy. 'Name like that in a place like this,' he elaborates 'How did your dad come to that decision?'

'You ever read the Iliad?'

He raises his brow. 'Does it fuckin' look like I've read the Iliad?' The liquor in his bloodstream slowing his speech into a dry, lethargic drawl.

'You say that and then go lend me books by Nietzsche and Kierkegaard.'

'You keep that between us, you hear me?'

'Scared I'll taint your tough-guy act?'

'It ain't an act, baby,' a hint of warning and, even more subtle, disgust in his tone.

That shuts her up. They both know it isn't an act. No, she knows who he his; fuck Crash or Rustin Cohle, she sees him down to the bone. That endemic anger baked into his marrow and stitched into the sinew of his muscles. Anger that when focused is conducive, when not is devastating: the latter becoming more and more often, thanks to Crash.

'What about the Iliad?' he redirects the conversation, having sensed the trepidation in her eyes.

'Cassandra. She's one of the focal characters. Not that my parents kew that, but there was an abridged version on the waiting table of my mother's clinic. Liked the name. Evidently, didn't read the fucking book.'

'Why d'you say that?'

'Cause Cassandra is fucked from the beginning, middle and end. It's a fucking tragedy ,yeah, but she doesn't get a moment of love, hope or respite.' She stops to take a sip of her steaming coffee, noting Rust's raised eyebrow.

'Don't worry. Caffeine hardly affects me, anymore,' before continuing. 'But yeah, Apollo is taken by Cassandra and she refuses him. So, as any powerful man does when rejected, he takes what he wants, anyway. But the violation of rape isn't enough; he curses her with the gift of prophecy, but prophecy which no one will ever believe and everyone just calls her insane. Classic, huh? Beware the crazy bitch.'

'How does it end? The Iliad?'

She holds his gaze, that intelligence he loves burning through her eyes. Her carefully constructed veneer of saccharine sexiness is stripped away, leaving her at her rawest. Her rawest and angriest.

'The city fucking burns.'

He holds her gaze, rising to the game of chicken he knows she's inviting him to.

'You gonna be give me trouble, baby?'

'Definitely.'

[katiefinch637]

Lonesome Love ~ Luke TWDG x fem!reader

Chapter 1 ~ Hit So Hard

A/N:: Hii this is my first book, it’s also on wattpad under the same title (Lonesome Love~ (TWDG) Luke x fem!reader) and my account is @katiefinch637 It’s not getting much attention on there so im hoping itll do better here!! I’m used to writing on there so it’ll take me a while to get used to it on here lmk what you thinkk

WARNINGS!!!! major spoilers for TWDG season 1 and 2! Gore and character death, possible mention of sensitive topics (probably in later chapters as i don’t think theres any in this one)

CONTEXT!! y/n basically takes the place of Clementine coz i cba writing her in but other then that it loosely follows the plot of TWDG season 2 but y/n is NOT seeing up her own arm it is so stupid for so many reasons (dog bites are incredibly dirty and sealing that bacteria in with stitches when you cannot properly sterilise the wound of equipment is bound to lead to infection also A STRAIGHT NEEDLE?? yeah no thats just not gonna work and like just no it’s so so stupid just bandage it.) y/n grew up in the UK with her parents and younger sister, she moved to America and attended 'Ericsons School For Troubled Youth' from ages 11-15 and when she turned 16 she went to live with her uncle (Kenny) as she had a poor relationship with her father. Her mother had became disabled with a chronic illness from when y/n was 10. She is now 22-years-old, the niece of Kenny and former student of Lee Everett at a high school (ik lee teaches at a university but shes too young to have been at university before the outbreak) where he had been her history teacher for two years (16-18), She then went on to get an apprenticeship at a tattoo parlour just before the outbreak. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~୨୧~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Christa, talk to me."

I plead, begging her to just say something. She hasn't said much since 'it' happened and as each week passes my worry grows.

Standing, Christa sighs and tends to the fire, low flames eat at the damp wood as it's poked and prodded by a thin stick. The soft amber glow reflecting onto her skin, she stares, blankly at the dancing blaze. 

"This'll never work."

Christa grumbles.

"Look at this, it's pathetic. The wood's too wet to burn. There's more smoke than flame. At this rate, we'll be eating this for breakfast"

She complains, referring to the mangled rodent cooking atop of the fire.

The rain patters on the soggy ground bouncing up as it hits the dirt, slowly the water begins to suffocate the fire and as the flames fade so does their hope, their hope of surviving the night, and their hope of making it to Wellington.

"Let me take over for you, sit down I'll sort it"

I suggest rolling up the sleeves of my fitted, purple jumper, crouching before the fire.

Christa steps back taking a seat on the log, smoothing her hair -coffee coloured and dull- out from her eyes, she exhales. 

"We cant stay in one place too long. It's too dangerous. We need to keep moving."

I state, jabbing at the kindling.

"All we do, all we have ever done is move. But we never seem to get anywhere"

Christa retorts. Her eyes - empty, free from any emotion and resembling that of a corpse - were halfway closed. As each day passes I begin to notice Christa's face contorting, becoming more lifeless, more gaunt, more dead. After Omid's death Christa stopped caring about almost everything, she ate less, spoke less. It was as if the day Omid died so did Christa, leaving behind her shell of a body. 

Inhaling a long, slow breath, I speak up.

"We need to find a group. People we can trust. We've been on our own for too long."

"Trust? You think we can trust someone out here?"

Christa questions as if it was an obvious fact. 

"No. Not now. Not anymore."

The quiet whistle of the wind fills the air accompanied by the faint roar of flames. The silence was comforting, a nice change from the heating discussion previously brewing. A chance to reflect. A chance to breathe. A chance to recover from the hardships that have become apart of daily living.

Christa sighs,

"I'm gonna go look for more wood you just keep the fire lit." 

I hear the faint crunches of footsteps as Christa strolls off. Once again the silence returns, nothing but the irregular rustling of leaves to fill the empty. 

Shuffling about our little 'camp' I search for anything to burn, something that wasn't drenched. I find sticks, twigs, leaves, nothing enough to create a proper fire though. Combing through my backpack I push past the spare clothes - darkened blue jeans, a blackish-grey laced vest, a knitted black cardigan and a dark-brown almost black fur-hooded coat, along with various other necessities, one being my 'ice pick'; honestly i'm still not sure if thats the correct terminology. All Molly told me when she 'lent' it me was that it's name is 'Hilda', nevertheless its very useful. Reaching in I pull out a small notebook, ripping out a few pages, chucking them, along with the small branches and dead leaves into the fire, I watched flames jump up, embers leap, spreading out in the air before falling. 

"This'll have to do"

I mumble to myself in a low, hushed voice. 

Reaching into the side pocket of my bag I shuffle my fingers around and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Sliding one from the packaging, the cigarette fits between my thin fingers with ease. Holding the end of the leaf filled cylinder over the fire i watch embers form jumping, popping and crackling as they dance on their tiny circular stage, and as the heat threatens to burn my fingertips. The smoke trailing upwards towards the stars creates a comforting sight. 

I bring my fingers up to my cracked, blood stained lips, before inhaling a long, deep, drag. The breaths grow relaxing, with every inhale follows a soft exhale of wondrous patterns. I close my eyes, breathing in the silence, drinking in the tranquility. The smoke found its way with the wind, following the path out into the melody of the rain, dancing, twirling, swaying with the breeze.

Examining the chipped red polish on my bitten nails I take another drag. 

"Jesus, are you fuckin' kidding me?"

A loud, unfamiliar voice spat.

I cough, the burning sensation of incorrectly inhaled smoke stabbing my throat. Throwing the cigarette onto the floor, crushing it with the heel of my tattered steel toed boot, I sling my backpack over my shoulder along with my bow - multiple arrows already shoved into my backpack peaking out for easy access - before following the males voice with haste. My legs carry me briskly, towards the call as i pat my person feeling my knife in the heart-shaped back pocket of my jeans; other than Hilda, my bow and my knife i have no other weapons, that sort of stuff - especially guns - are becoming almost impossible to aquire.

"Out here? Alone? In the middle of nowhere? But we haven't met anyone yet. How many people are you with?"

Another unrecognisable voice hissed.

"Hate to see someone get hurt"

The seedy male threatens.

"Now, hold on, she's setting you up."

One man cautions.

Christa stutters,

"I'm by myself."

It was then, i see Christa surrounded by a group of hostile, shady looking men, one who held a lead connecting to a large, hairy mutt, spits another threat Christa's way. The canine barking, all shouting over one another, a storm of threatening remarks drown out all other noise, no longer can i hear the deafening pound of raindrops attacking anything and everything in it's path. My heart drops to my gut. Eyes wide, my gaze darts around looking for something, anything to help Christa.

"Don't fucking lie to us!"

A man demands

Muffled voices filled my ears, dancing around my head, spitting at me. I couldn't move, my feet frozen to the ground, my words stuck at the back of my throat. The rain pours down on me, hard and fast, causing my dark locs to curl around to my face.

"You fuckin' with me?"

He demands, shoving Christa's slim frame causing her to stumble back.  

It was as if a switch had flipped, allowing me autonomy again.

I pull a shaft from the improvised 'quiver' inside my backpack, slowly, quietly and smoothly as I had been taught all those years ago. Without taking my eyes from my target, practiced fingers led the nock to the string, while my arm raised the bow to my cheek, the ice cold sting of half-frozen fingers pressing against my face. Slow, deep, even breaths as I pull the bow taut, feeling the fletching tickle my jaw as I sight the arrow.

Then nothing. No sound, no motion. No breath. My fingers simply went limp as the string slipped past them. In an instant, the engine of death twanged and went silent as the faintly whistling point found its target - the man, now stood in front of Christa, his gun raised, pointing between her eyes. 

The crack of the arrowhead penetrating the males skull sent chills, rushing like water down my spine. And as he falls limp i can't help but feel a sense of relief. 

The impact of the arrow forced the man snapping sideways, following the path lead by the foreshaft embedded deep into his brain. His body trailing a second behind, collapses with a thump into the muddy sludge.

"Run Christa!"

I scream, sprinting off hoping, preying that Christa ran in time. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~୨୧~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

chapter 2:

[snellkist]

One Final Stream, Chapter 3

Pairing: Scar/Ren (RPF) Prompt from: Me! Words: 2442 Read on AO3 Note: Challenges can be submitted via ask or AO3 comment and will become their own chapter if chosen

Another spin of the wheel. There's less fanfare for this one, but no less anticipation, and Zed clicks his tongue.

"And just like that, ladies and gentlemen," He hypes, holding his hand out for Scar's microphone. Scar gives it up without looking away from the sliver of his name. "The host has become the player!"

Cheers and applause ring out, louder than the last round. "Sounds like everyone else was anticipating this more than I was," Scar teases as he rolls himself closer to center frame.

"Hey, hey," Jimmy interrupts, "With how some of these challenges are looking?" He leans forward on his elbows, weight held on the couch's backboard. A glance is spared to the camera, before all of his attention is back on Scar. "Can't blame anyone for wanting to be on the other end with you."

Somebody whistles, and Jimmy straightens, holding his hands up in surrender, "Just sayin'! I'm just sayin'."

Scar feels his face warm, warmer still when Skizz laughs, "Jiggles, look what you did," He ribs, "Y'made Scar all shy!"

"Whaaaat? No," Scar looks away, "Not- not at all, y'know, I'm- oh, the hat, can I-?" He reaches for the jester's hat, and Dot hands it to Joe hands it to him.

As Scar makes a show of mixing up the task slips, Grian chuckles. "For anyone who didn't get to see it--- viewers too I guess, if your POV wasn't on the main stream when it happened, but mostly for those in the room--- this is exactly how Scar reacted when a dono called him a cutie."

"True," Martyn agrees, "Got all bashful and moved on as quick as he could."

"I mean, we were on a time crunch," Cub defends.

"Thank you, Cub," Scar hands the hat off, one folded piece held between his index and middle fingers. He uses it to point around the room at his friends, eyes narrowed and amusement clear in his tone, "And I won't be standing for any more of this slander! Due only in part to not being able to stand." He allows a moment for the snorts and giggles to pass, holding the note between his hands, "Now can a man get a drumroll please?"

Half of their ensemble obliges, drumming on table edges and couch cushions and empty wall space as Scar unfolds the note with a few bracing breaths, using all the caution of defusing a bomb.

He reads it, and relaxes. "Oh," Scar says, pleasantly surprised, "I was expecting something way worse."

"Oh?" False leans to the side, as if trying to get a glance at the task despite being too far away to read it, "What'cha got, then?"

Scar clears his throat. "'Blindfold yourself.' We've got those somewhere, right?" At Karn's affirmative, he continues, "'A random player will kiss you. You have three tries to guess who, and if you cannot,'" He lowers his voice dramatically, "'Buy that player's dinner'."

Scar has a funny feeling he knows how this'll end.

~

"Okay," Impulse begins, dusting his hands off. They'd just finished moving the sectional a little further back, allowing more space for Scar to be in front of the camera, "We were thinking the best way to go about this might be to make it similar to Mystery Hermit."

"Scar was a judge on that segment, though," Ren points out, "He kinda carried them, don't you think that'll be too easy?"

"Excuse me," Pearl squints, and Ren ducks his head sheepishly, "Gem and I did great too!"

"He's got experience with all of our play styles," Tango carries on, "It's not like he has any of the kissy-kissy-goo-goo variety experience."

"Or maybe he does, I suggest non-judgmentally," Joe interjects, "Still wouldn't make the task at hand easy."

"I like that idea, though," Scar agrees, maneuvering himself into the freed-up space, "Making it like Mystery Hermit. I could, uh... ask for examples, you know? Different kinds of kisses. Maybe three, and I get one guess after each?"

"Sounds like a plan," Martyn says, "You better get that blindfold on. These lot fighting over you might give them away before we even start."

Scar snorts, but obliges. Adjusting the blindfold takes a second, the elastic catching against the tubing of his cannula, but he manages. He doesn't see it when Gem waves a hand in front of his face, only feels the air around his nose displace.

"I do have a better idea than us trying to hash out who gets the honor on our own," It's Zed's voice. Straining to listen, Scar hears a lid pop, and marker squeak on a whiteboard.

"Oh! That's smart," Jimmy says.

"Just a reminder before we spin this thing," Now it's Cub, and Scar imagines the way he talks with his hands while he explains, "We can't make noise. No oohs or aahs or excitement or disappointment, 'cause that'll give away who it is or isn't. Okay?"

Various affirmatives sound out, and a hand lands on Scar's shoulder. He only jumps a little bit. "That means you're gonna be the only one talking for a bit, there, Scarface," He rubs Scar's shoulder, "You ready?"

"Roger that," Scar affirms, hands squeezing his knees in anticipation, "I'm so ready."

The sound of pegs against a stopper fills the room.

~

Nobody speaks, but things aren't silent. The beeping has kicked up again, a quick and high-pitched series of three dots and a long-pause dash. That one hadn't happened during the charity stream proper; even at Scar's most nervous, it didn't hold a candle to how hard his heart was beating now.

It takes him a minute to reach back and flick off the corresponding monitor, before the sound gets too obnoxious. He knows he isn't at risk of dying right this second, he doesn't need the devices attached to him trying to tell him otherwise.

It's just a kiss. A few, maybe, at most. It's been a long time, but he's kissed before. Enough that he shouldn't be as worried as he is, and yet, when somebody taps his hand twice to indicate that the kisser is ready, his first instinct is to lighten the mood.

"Well hello there," Scar says into the... presumably occupied space in front of him, "Come to places like this often?" There are some huffs of laughter, too airy and quiet to interpret, but at least it tells Scar that there is somebody in front of him. He smiles ruefully, "Yeah, me either."

His palms are already starting to clam up. Scar dries them on his sweatpants, and tries to think of what he would need to learn to narrow things down. One thing at a time. "Okay. Give me... a friendly kiss. We've known each other for a long time, we haven't seen each other in a while, we're getting together for drinks and girl talk," Scar's voice raises in pitch, a little valley girl tease, "Kiss me like that."

The response is quick. Two kisses pressed to either cheek, but not much else. No brush of their face or touch of their hands that might give Scar more information. It makes Scar chuckle once the kisses are over, "You really committed to the duck face on that, huh?"

The kisser draws a circle on the back of Scar's hand, a nonverbal affirmative. "Yeah, I was hoping to feel a little more from that. Chin scruff, or something. But nope, just lips."

Scar wipes at his cheek, and his fingers come back lightly slicked with something greasy. It's not much of a hint, but it's all he has to go off of, crossing the people who don't wear some kind of lip balm regularly off of his list.

"Y'know, I'm gonna be pretty disappointed if I got kissed by my Sheriff and didn't have my eyes open to enjoy it," Scar tsks, "But my first guess is Jimmy."

There's enough silence following the guess that Scar starts to think he's right, that they're too stunned to follow up. Before he can take any pride in his deduction skills, though, an X gets drawn on the back of his hand.

"That's real sweet," Jimmy's soft voice makes Scar turn his head, coming from somewhere over his shoulder instead of in front of him, "But it ain't me, chief."

"Shoot," Scar buries his face with his hands, takes a deep breath, and lets it out in a giggle, "We're back to square one!"

Not entirely. One confirmed no is better than nothing, and what remains can be narrowed, if Scar can only think of how. He sighs, dropping his hands and "looking" at the kisser.

"Please tell me you've seen Star Wars."

The circle on the back of his hand is immediate. Not Gem then. "Now bear with me! Bear with me here--- There's this scene in Empire Strikes Back, where they're running repairs on the Millennium Falcon and Han finds Leia fixing the- the console unit things," He pauses, opening his arms, "Kiss me like Han kisses Leia."

Whoever it is, they really understand the assignment. Instead of feeling lips on his, Scar feels his hand be taken, the one they'd been using to communicate. Held between both of theirs, his palm is kneaded delicately, a thumb stroking along the ridge of his knuckles, and Scar wishes suddenly that the blindfold wasn't there. He wants to see how they might be looking at him, if the exasperated fondness or the giddy delight are only in his imagination.

It's hard without a face to put to the expressions, but it warms Scar regardless. "A scoundrel," He quotes, leaning forward ever slightly, and wonders if they would act out the whole scene, if talking were allowed. "I happen to like nice men."

They're smiling when they finally kiss him, and Scar smiles back, taking in as much as he can. They're not clean-shaven, stubbly growth tickling Scar's face where they're pressed together. When their hand finds Scar's back, Scar's finds the back of their neck. Their hair is short.

The kiss is brief and chaste, as far as kisses go. In the movie, Han and Leia were interrupted before anything could escalate. Here, it just seems like good sense, sense that Scar can feel himself losing. If the kisser hadn't pulled back, he might have kept going, and his ears might be just a bit redder as he clears his throat to compose himself.

So the kisser is a Star Wars fan. Their hair is cut, but they do have hair, so Tango is out. Joe as well, for having too much of it. They have a beard, which knocks out Cub. Their hands were firm and confident, the way Scar imagines a musician's would be. "Is it Impulse?"

The X on his hand comes quicker this time--- on account of the fact that the kisser never dropped it--- as does a breathy little laugh from behind Scar. "Sorry," Impulse's voice is a little closer than Jimmy's had been, and further to the right than Scar could turn his head if he tried, "I'm uh, not the droid you're looking for."

"Dang it," Scar snaps his fingers, "Good reference though, I appreciate that."

One more kiss, one more guess. Scar needs to make it count, but with two very similar suspects remaining, what could a kiss tell him that he hasn't already learned?

He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. It might be time to make some assumptions. He tilts his head up towards the kisser, and squeezes their hand. "Kiss me like you love me."

Silence follows. Their hand slips out of Scar's, and his heart sinks briefly, afraid that he'd crossed a line. It stings like a rejection, and Scar's head lowers.

And then there's a hand on Scar's face, cradling his cheek and making him look up again. There's lips in Scar's hair, and the press of their forehead against his own, a tenderness that makes Scar's breath catch even as they move on. The pressure of soft kisses over the blindfold's fabric, on his nose, at the corner of his mouth, before they follow right below the line his breathing tubes cut across his cheekbone. They kiss the shell of Scar's ear, the lobe, they kiss across Scar's jawline, all the while making soft strokes with their thumb on the other side.

Scar adjusts himself in his chair before he can melt right out of it, and the soft touches pick up where they left off. They kiss the soft underside of his jaw, his neck, just below his Adam's apple, before finally kissing his lips, slow and sweet and wonderful.

It's intoxicating, and when the kisser tries to pull away, Scar pulls them back in by the collar of their shirt.

When Scar's lungs' demands outweigh his heart's, he breaks away again, catching his breath in shallow pants as his oxygen machine hisses to keep up. When he tilts his head forward, he finds that the kisser is still there, and Scar blindly presses their foreheads back together. "Ren...?" It comes out small, almost vulnerable.

There is no drawing on the back of his hand. Instead, the kisser pulls away just enough to get Scar's blindfold up and off.

Scar blinks his eyes open against the light, and is met with none other than Ren, smiling softly. "In the very flesh," He says, "You did good, baby."

There's whistles and applause, people eager to fill the quiet space with sound after so long spent restraining themselves. A few congratulate Scar, and bit by bit, Scar comes down from the lightheaded comfort he'd accidentally slipped into.

Ren stays all the while, sitting on the couch beside the space allotted for Scar's wheelchair, and when Scar's eyes look a little clearer, he nudges their knees together. "That was. A lot," Ren admits, too low for the microphones to catch, awkward in a way that's endearing like he's only now considering he might have something to be embarrassed about, "Everything still cool between us?"

"I think that depends," Scar teases, "Am I just gonna have to live with the knowledge that you kiss like a young Harrison Ford?"

Ren snorts, "You're flattering me, dude," But he grins all the same. "What is there to do with the knowledge if not live with it?"

"Use it," Scar suggests, leaning in hopefully, "I mean, we do have a whole lakehouse to look forward to..."

"Oh no," Ren laughs, good-natured, "This is how it starts, isn't it? The Scarrage is occurring."

"Let's start with a week," Scar wiggles his eyebrows, "We'll see how Scarred you are after that."

[paranoidginger]

Lab-rat part 14

Tw: Violence, Death, Gore, Suffocation.

Bait sat beside the dispenser, carefully watching as the Sniper worked his magic, picking off anyone he spotted heading for the bridge. The lanky man occasionally muttered quiet insults. In a moment of distraction, there was a sharp whistle, followed by a spray of blood on the wall behind him as his rifle clattered to the floor.

"Oh bloody fucking wanka-" the man hissed, stumbling slightly as he grabbed a hold of his shoulder and the fresh hole torn through it. Bait scrambled to his feet, watching as the man paled, barely making it behind the guard wall before another shot was fired, narrowly missing him. Carefully, Bait held him up, getting him to the dispenser and helping him to sit down as he continued to hiss and swear under his breath, eyes pressed shut behind his yellow-tinted glasses as the Medic and Engineer's combined efforts did its work. The dispenser's healing wasn't quite as good as the medigun, it was slower, and barely dulled any pain, but it worked, and that was enough. "Oi, do me a favor mate, go ahead, grab me rifle 'n shoot that dickhead. I'll show ya how to hold it, just drop the wanka."

Bait nodded slightly, cloaking for the brief moment it took to dart out and snatch the scoped rifle, uncloaking once he was back behind the safety of the wall, holding the firearm close to his chest.

"Alroight. Rest the stock against ya shoulder, look through the scope an' pull the trigger. Holdin' ya breath for a sec can help too, steadies ya out." Bait listened intently doing as he was told, reloading the rifle as he peeked out from behind the wall, spotting the enemy Sniper and doing his best to focus in on the target. He took a deep breath, holding it as he took aim, and pulled the trigger. The knockback of the rifle was nearly enough to flatten him backwards against the floor, but sure enough, he managed to hit the opposing Sniper. A smile spread across his face as adrenaline rushed through his system, his breaths shaking as he pulled himself back behind the wall.

"I-I did it- I hit him!" He was breathless as he carefully set the rifle on the floor, rubbing his shoulder where the stock had hit him, a quiet, wheezy sort of laugh escaping him. "I-I think he was the one who shot me whenever Medic was getting me out of the Red base." He coughed slightly, sitting down as his heart continued to race.

"Good job, mate! You're a real natural if you got a shot in ya first toime 'round a sniper rifle!" He winced slightly as he moved his arm, the wound still healing over as he sat beside the dispenser. "Ya know, I think this'll be the first toime I've heard ya speak this much. Who knew the thrill o' the hunt was what ya needed to get you talking." The Sniper chuckled slightly, getting to his feet and picking up his rifle. "Let's have a looksee an' find out whether ya killed the bastard." He peeked out across the space between the two bases, using his scope to get a clearer look. "Ah, no dead body, 's alroight though! Still a good bit ah blood lost! Either way it's a good shot." He looked back to Bait, an awkward sort of half grin on his face. "I'll have to teach ya some more once we're back at base, give ya some target practice, ey?"

Part 13

The Red Medic brushed himself off as he materialized into the respawn room, quickly noticing the Sniper, who was tending to a large wound in his abdomen, hissing as he stopped the bleeding.

"Damn good thing you're back. You moind givin' me a hand?" The Red Medic gave a small nod, noticing the location of the wound before much else as he engaged his medigun.

"Zhat isn't a Sniper shot, is it? You don't usually survive vhenever he puts any effort in."

"Nah. I shot 'im first, bloody suit-wearin' coward grabbed the roifle. Only saw 'im for a second before he managed to shoot me." The Sniper grumbled, watching as the wound in his side closed itself up once again.

"Zhe Blu Spy is Dead, herr Sniper... Vich means zhat it vas most likely zhat little clone brat who shot you... Zhank you for telling me zhis, Sniper. Keep zhe enemy sniper distracted vhile you can. I have an idea..." The Medic chuckled slightly to himself, grabbing a couple of different syringe types for his gun once the sniper was back to full heath, a cruel grin on his face as he exited the resupply room.

The Sniper grumbled slightly, doing as he was told, quickly returning to his post on the battlements.

The medic moved quickly and carefully, making sure to avoid the multiple Blu mercenaries in the base as he made his way over to the Blu base, knowing that it was only a few people still there. The Spy would most likely have respawned already, and Engineer was about, but other than that, all he had to worry about was the Pyro, the Sniper, and his very own target.

His Sniper did his job, making sure to properly distract the enemies as the Medic made his way inside of the enemy base. He moved quietly and swiftly, spotting the spy clone, who sat beside a dispenser, distracted as he watched the Blu Sniper fire across the gap. He closed in all too quickly, wrapping his arms around Bait, one hand pressed firmly over both his mouth and nose as he began to drag the young man away.

Bait screamed, it was a muffled, subdued sound, but he screamed all the same. Watching as the Sniper turned to try to protect him, only for the enemy Sniper to make a single killing shot. Blood, brain, and bits of bone went flying as the Blu Sniper's body collapsed to the floor. The medic clasped his hand tighter over Bait's mouth, restricting his breathing as he struggled against the Medic. His chest was tight as he struggled and failed to pull in a single breath, his eyes wide and panicked as he felt the world around him begin to collapse. Where was everyone? Weren't they going to save him?

He fought and struggled as his mind fogged over, his limbs growing heavy and harder to control with each passing moment, but dear god did he fight as hard as he possibly could. The Red Medic continued to drag him along, kicking and breathless down the stairs and hallway, heading for the sewers. The clone's vision had nearly gone entirely dark by the time he was finally able to take a full breath, his ability to see rushing back to him as the oxygen returned to his body. The wretched doctor had cornered him, his looming figure coming into view as he loaded his syringe gun.

Bait tried his hardest to flee, to get away from the man, stumbling and eventually falling, scrambling backwards until he hit the wall. His breathing was rapid and panicked, his eyes wide and darting around the stairwell they found themselves in.

"Oh, don't be such a baby! You know I'm not here to kill you. I just vant to bring you back vhere you belong, liebling. Und you belong to me." The medic chuckled, aiming the syringe gun at Bait before emptying a handful of the syringes into the clone's chest, stepping forward and kneeling over him. Carefully, the medic began to peel off the balaclava covering Bait's face, a sick grin on his face as he tossed it off to the side. "Don't worry, zhe procedures I have planned for you vill only be excruciating!" He spoke in that odd sort of sing-song again, still smiling as Bait's limbs grew numb and his chest heavy. The clone's eyes began to dilate slightly, and despite all his panic, he felt himself going slack, only able to move his eyes as the Medic removed the syringes from his chest. The man stood up after a moment, quickly checking his surroundings before hoisting the clone's limp body off of the floor, beginning his journey down the stairs and into the sewers.

@thatonesimp-e @gravitytrips @realccre

[qwerty-between-the-lines]

Camp Half-Blood Spin the Bottle

Nico: What's taking Valdez with the evening entertainment?

Leo: Here we are! One genuine, certified, Barq's root beer bottle.

Chiron: Leo, when I said we could do whatever you guys wanted, I meant within reason.

Leo: Relax Chiron. It isn't like Spin the Bottle leads to anything too intense.

Hazel: What's 'spin the bottle'?

Nico: (leans in close to Hazel) Typical Leo. That's what.

Jason: Spin the bottle is this game where you... well... spin a bottle, and the person it lands on is the one you have to kiss.

Hazel: Really? I don't know how I feel about...

Frank: Aw, come on babe. It's just fun.

Percy: Well, as there are couples participating in this game, I might as well get this out in the open. There's to be no jealousy over who kisses who.

(Percy looks meaningfully at Annabeth)

Annabeth: What Seaweed Brain? I know the rules of the game! I won't get jealous... geez.

Piper: I think this'll be interesting. I'm in!

Will: Alright, who starts?

Leo: I brought the bottle, so I'll start.

Chiron: ...and that's my que. Don't do anything too overboard! Do we understand each other, Leo?

Leo: Yeah, yeah! Nothing too overboard. I swear...

Frank: Well, that's a promise you can count on.

Leo: Are you trying to drive at something Zhang?

Frank: Oh no! Don't mind me.

Leo: Then without further ado...

Leo: (spins bottle)

Hazel:

Hazel: (gulps) Me?

Frank: Come on Leo. Let her spin again if she wants to.

Hazel: No! I can do this. Really, it's fine.

Hazel and Leo looked at one another for a long moment. Leo's expression was curious. Not surprisingly, Hazel looked vulnerable.

Hazel studied Leo for several moments. Her eyes shifted to his lips, then back up to his eyes.

Hazel's eyelids fluttered half closed and she moved in. Leo met her, capturing her lips with his own.

Jason: *whistles

Piper: (smacks Jason) Jason!

Leo pulled back from Hazel's lips and shot Jason a nasty glare.

Hazel exchanged an apologetic look with Frank, who tried his best to play it casual.

Frank: (whispering to Hazel) I promise, it's ok. Not a big deal.

Hazel: Well, that makes it my turn. I just spin the bottle, right?

The bottle landed on Annabeth. Hazel and Annabeth exchanged awkward looks.

Annabeth figured this game must be really borderline taboo for Hazel, so she did her best to minimize any awkwardness.

Annabeth: It'll be fine, Hazel. Just a little peck.

Hazel: Alright...

Hazel and Annabeth quickly pecked each other's lips and quickly pulled away.

Leo: Aw, come on! That's not kissing!

Annabeth: Is so. You never said how long we have to kiss.

Leo: (raising hand) Fine. All in favor of a standard time limit?

Frank shrugged and raised his hand. Jason grinned and mirrored Frank's movement.

Annabeth figured that if Jason would do it, Percy would do it.

Sure enough, Percy exchanged a playful look with Jason before his hand shot up.

Will raised his hand with a curious expression, which caused Nico to sigh with resignation before doing the same.

Annabeth: (eyeroll) It figures. Men!

Hazel: (rolls eyes) Tell me about it...

Leo: (smirking) Twenty second rule! I believe it's your spin, Annie Bell.

Annabeth: Don't push it Valdez!

Annabeth: (spins bottle)

Annabeth's eyes got big as ping pong balls when she saw where the bottle landed.

Nico blushed and averted his gaze awkwardly, clearing his throat.

Will: You'll be alright, Nico.

Nico: Oh, uh... of course I will!

Percy: (looks at wristwatch) I'll keep the time. Just so Valdez doesn't pull anything.

Nico moved towards Annabeth sheepishly. Annabeth couldn't help thinking that Nico was cute when he was flustered.

Annabeth: Aw, come 'ere Nico!

She pulled him close and pressed her lips into his. Nico managed to hold her lips, but that was pretty much all.

Percy: ...and twenty!

Surprisingly, Nico didn't jerk away. He guided the kiss to a proper conclusion. He and Annabeth slowly separated.

Annabeth smiled at him, and Nico blushed about three shades of scarlet before taking the bottle.

Annabeth knew it wouldn't be nice to press Nico, so she went back to Percy quietly.

Nico inhaled for courage and spun the bottle, praying silently to Hades that it would land on Will.

Nico: (thinking) 'Come on dad. If you've ever been pleased with anything I did. Please!'

The bottle stopped on Will and Nico sighed with relief. He and Will practically ran into each other as their lips collided.

Nico kissed Will for all he was worth. Conveying everything he felt into their meeting.

Percy: Twenty!

Nico pulled back from Will and handed him the bottle, a little smile playing at his lips.

Will pulled Nico close again and gave him a quick peck for good measure before letting the bottle spin.

The bottle stopped on Jason, who bit at his lip awkwardly.

Will: You cool with this Grace?

Jason: (managing to sound confident) Oh, I'll manage.

That was Jason. Always having to seem the courageous one and take initiative.

To prove his point, Jason made the first move and captured Will's lips with surprising gusto. Will was so surprised by Jason's initiative that he almost lost his breath.

It was mostly waiting out the clock after that. Jason and Will's lips remained pressed together until Percy called time.

Will: (pulling back) He's quite the kisser, Piper!

Piper: Oh, I know.

Jason took the bottle from Will and spun it a good spin that took several moments to wind down.

Finally, the bottle skidded to halt, pointing straight at Leo.

Leo cracked a playful smile. He was determined to play it cool, and not give Jason the satisfaction of being the only casual-acting one.

He eyed Jason down as though issuing a challenge. Jason returned the look with a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Leo: I'm giving you a real kiss, Grace. Just a heads up!

Jason: Well, what are you waiting for, Valdez? Bring it!

Leo placed his hand on the back of Jason's neck and pulled him in, connecting their lips roughly.

Leo tugged at Jason's bottom lip gently with his upper, teasing the son of Jupiter into returning his movements.

Soon their lips were dancing to the beat of Leo's drum. Jason found his fingers playfully dancing up Leo's shoulder.

Percy: and... time!

Leo pulled back slowly. His eyes sparkling with playful mischief. Jason smirked.

Jason: You're not bad, Valdez.

Frank: Okay, I think we've had enough. Besides, I don't think any of us are going to beat that last kiss.

Piper: Yeah, that was quite the kiss - Jason!

Jason: It was just a kiss, Pipes. That's all. You know I like kissing.

Leo: Just a kiss. Yeah, sure...

Nico: Don't be annoying, Leo.

[adtothebone]

Some things in life are bad

They can really make you mad

Other things just make you swear and curse

When you're chewing on life's gristle

Don't grumble, give a whistle

And this'll help things turn out for the best

And…

[commonguttersnipe]

#Some things in life are bad!#

#They could REALLY make you mad!#

#Other things just make you swear and curse!#

(continue the lyrics)

When you're chewing on life's gristle,

Don't grumble, give a whistle!

And this'll make things turn out for the BEEEESSSSTTTT-

[practically-an-x-man]

Your OCs encounter Mothman in the woods! It's Arya, shapeshifting just to mess with them, but they don't know that. How do they react to this very mothy surprise?

Ooooh, interesting! Thank you!

Rae: Freezes in place, trying to figure out if "Mothman" has noticed her. She draws energy into her hands, but doesn't make a shield just yet. If she can, she'll back away before any sort of fight breaks out. This isn't the weirdest thing she's seen before, but she'd still rather not engage if there's no point to it.

Robin: Turns and runs - though she still maintains enough clarity to remember to block the sound of her footsteps so it's harder to follow her. She doesn't know what the fuck that thing in the woods is, but this is not the way she wants to die.

Madison: Her knives are in her hands in an instant, and she whistles for Bravo to come back to her side. She doesn't outright start a fight, but this definitely doesn't look good.

Ophelia: Where the hell is she going to find a forest in the middle of central NYC?

Jasper: Just keeps walking, pretends they didn't see anything. This is how things roll in the South - the woods don't belong to you, if you see something weird no you definitely didn't. They go home, toss 13 pennies on the porch, lock the doors, and pull the curtains. Though they do think it's weird that they could sense the "Mothman"'s emotions

Kestrel: Isn't even fazed. They work es effectively a wildlife researcher for magical creatures (not to mention, they're a magical creature themself) so the sight of Mothman would be a mild surprise at best. They probably try to find a quiet spot to sketch it and jot down some notes without disturbing it.

Quinn: She's walking with Billy (no way she's hiking anywhere in the woods alone, when her mobility issues mean she's more likely to get hurt), and at first she brushes the Mothman thing aside as one of her hallucinations and just ignores it. But Billy freezes ("what the fuck is that thing?!"), which tells her he sees it too, and that's when she freaks out. There's no known magic or superpowers in her world, she probably ends up freaking out to the point that she tries to run, trips over a root, and twists her back wrong. (Arya, being a benign prankster who didn't really want to hurt anyone, gets worried and shifts into another form to help, but that's a whole different thing to have to explain)

Katherine: Similar answer to Jasper: she's from the South and lives in a world where magic is a known phenomenon (at least to her), so it's probably safest just to keep walking and pretend she didn't see anything unusual.

Eris: Naturally, expects that this'll end in a fight and decides to make the first move. They might actually understand the prank bit if Arya's able to explain quickly, but otherwise things could get bloody.

Nikoletta: I know this is starting to sound repetitive, but... look, I live in the South and this is how things work here. She's turning around as casually as she can, taking about fifteen steps the other direction, ducking behind a tree, and shadow-jumping as far as she can. She comes home rattled and may even end up shutting down a bit, which is definitely not the reaction Arya was hoping for.

(I know this makes like three of them with the same response but you should know that most Southern people subscribe to the 'if you see some weird shit in the woods you just keep walking. tell your friends when you get home but you Do Not see it while you're there')