#this'll make you whistle

[schlock-luster-video]

On February 19, 1949 Jean Gillie died in London.

R.I.P. (1915 - 1949)

[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.)

[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~?"

[bratphilia]

DADS BEST FRIEND WILLIAM AFTON SPITTING IN MY MOUTH SLAPPING ME DEGRADING ME HE’S SO BIG N TALL N MEAN SO MEAN SO FUCKING MEAN OHHHHH LAWDDDDDDDD HAVE MERCY 🫣😩😩😩 I HAVE TO SEE THIS LIVE LAUGH MATTHEW LILLARD (i love ur afton writings btw they make me feel 😩😩💕💕)

cw ; spitting, slapping, degrading, gagging, fingering, rough sex WILLIAM AFTON who's far from treating you well when the two of you fuck. dad's best friend or not; you're getting a mean fucking pounding. "open your fucking mouth," he snarls at you, body overpowering yours with ease as he grinds on top of you. you do what he says, drunk off the air already and he hasn't even taken your clothes off yet, and part your lips. he grabs you by your cheeks, forcing your mouth to stay open, as a slow string of spit travels into your mouth. you can only respond with a hum as he releases the lower half of your face and you swallow his saliva. he flashes you a satisfactory smile and leans down to guide your mouth in a sloppy kiss. he's rock solid against you, grinding with true promise into your thigh, avoiding the place where you need him the most.

for context, your dad is out in the garage fixing william's car. something wrong with the engine, he had said, but you weren't paying enough attention. you pretended to busy yourself with william's youngest daughter before he pulled you aside. a small whistle to grab your attention and a slight cock of his head in the direction of his bedroom told you what was going on. fixing his own car is something you're almost positive he can do himself, but that can wait. it's been, what? two weeks since the two of you last had another one of your trysts? he needs this, and he knows for a fact that you do too. anyways, back to the way his deft fingers lifted up your skirt. the one you wore for the purpose of easy access, slipping into it after the offer of going over to his house stood from your dad. his fingers don't slip in and out delicately; they jackhammer inside of you. pumping aggressively, so hard that the way his palm brushes against your clit he pumps upwards is delicious. it creates a pooling sensation in your stomach that grows hotter with each thrust of his fingers, and fuck, you're close—

but if you think you're coming from just his fingers, you're sorely mistaken. he coos an "aww, poor baby," at the way you cry when he slowly removes them, making you feel every ridge and indent of his fingers as the slide out of you. he stands to his full, huge height, and begins to unzip his pants, slides them down, and frees his cock from his boxers. he slides himself forward so his dick sits at your clothed entrance — he didn't bother to remove your underwear. "tell me how much you need it, baby," he tells you. "tell me how much you need your daddy's friend inside of you." you really wish he wouldn't talk about shit like that but he is the ultimate pervert, after all. stupidly, you roll your eyes. you regret doing so the moment you did, eyes widening at the flash of anger that washes over him.

SLAP!

he smacks you across the face. all too quickly, his dick is inside you, but he gives you no time to adjust. even the little time you spent apart in the grand scheme of things didn't make you feel like you could take his cock without him sliding in gently. tears prick at your eyes and he cages you with arms on both sides of your head, fucking you roughly into his bed. "this'll teach you to disrespect me, you ungrateful fucking bitch," he growls, leaning forward so that your faces are centimeters apart. his hips smack into yours causing the bed to rustle, and you to grasp onto him. you uses the hands enclosed around you to pin both of your hands to the mattress as he slams into you. he suddenly pulls out indecisively to flip you onto your stomach, landing a rough slap on your ass. when you try to lean up to look back at him, he buries a hand in your hair and smooshes your face into the bedding. you're really in for it now.

[samalong1]

I’m not sure if you take requests but could you do Hannibal or hannigram (your choice!) with a darling who eats a lot? Like they’ll eat four times their weight in food and still have room for dessert?

Of course I'm doing Hannibal cause I'm bad with throuples.

Hannibal x hungry reader

While his cooking is plentiful between meals he doesn't really have snacks

He never really was a snack person so he just has food for cooking

This'll probally just make you eat more at meals

At meals he loves to watch you eat how "feral" you get by his cooking

He loved to cook for you. With you he can cook more dishes and not have to worry about leftovers going bad (or even having any)

At parties and such he requests you keep it on the tamer side

He asks that you subtly get seconds when the event has died down so you won't get in caterers way and draw attention

Also not to eat like a animal

You don't need to know the difference between 20 forks but please atleast use one

While he's stricter at parties any guest who comments on your absurd eating habits. He'd happily feed them to you

I don't think he really does dessert or baking

If you behave he may get some stuff strictly for dessert

He'll occasionally feed you in sensual moments

Him gently holding your chin as he slowely shifts the fork into your mouth letting you taste the liver of the man that winked at you and dared whistle at you

He won't leave the table till your done eating as he won't want to be rude

Often he'll be sipping wine as he watches you eat your 3rd plate

He'll try and make more filling dishes

But after realizing that you just like to eat and aren't always hungry he'll change his tactic

He diesnt believe in diet culture but does know that too much of any food can have side effects and that you need variety

He'll cook "snacks"(that are just mini meals you have throughout the day) with thst in mind

Of course his mire vulgar cuts of meat are hidden well. Tucked deep into the freezer so you won't find it when searching for stray icecream

Few will/Hannigan hcs

Will reuses butter cookie tins for his fish hook and lines often leading to your betrayel

Hannibal won't buy snack foods but Will would. But he'll eat some himself if there is any after you open the container

Will probslly shops at Costco for your eating habits

Hannigram once pulled a joke where they added more and more salt to your food over time

[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."

[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.”

[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."

[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.'

[lamaenthel]

Unresponsive

[read on ao3][masterlist]Febuwhump prompt: unresponsive

There's a tight stitch in Depa's chest. She feels a profound emptiness, a hole in her heart that feels almost physical. She cannot feel Caleb's happy warmth where she felt it only seconds previous, only a pulsing umbilicus of a Force bond clenched in agony. She cannot feel Caleb. She cannot feel Caleb.

Characters: Depa Billaba, Commander Grey Wordcount: 510 Warning: Major Character Death

SIGNAL LOST. SIGNAL LOST. SIGNAL LOST.

Depa cannot tear her eyes away from her commlink, nor can she feel her heart beating. The sensations of her world have been replaced by an overall tingling numbness, as if she had meditated for a full night and day and returned to the physical plane in the same position she'd started in. Static on her skin, and bright red letters blinking SIGNAL LOST where the tracking beacon for Caleb's crashed ship had been only moments ago. 

"Sir, are you alright?" Commander Grey shouts, crawling on his elbows towards her. There's a massive stripe of of jungle mud smeared all the way down his front, covering everything from his visor to his shinplates. "We've got to get under cover before they launch another mortar! Sir, can you hear me?"

Depa ping's Caleb's commlink to get his location. The channel is unavailable.

"Sir please, we've got to move!"

She tries it again. And again. Even if the beacon is down, they were close enough before the strike to ping Caleb's location off his commlink to find him. The Felucian jungle is infested with battledroids. They must find him and evacuate before another mortar strike hits.

"Damn it, General… Bosun, this is Commander Grey, do you copy? Bosun, did you make it?"

Depa pages back over to the tracking beacon and restarts the signal connection. She doesn't have time to waste on technological problems! She blinks rapidly and wipes away something dark leaking into her eyes from her stinging brow.

"I'm here, Commander! I'm here!"

"General Billaba is in shock. I think… I think that mortar hit Commander Dume's ship."

"Oh, no, no, stars and tides say you're joking—"

There's a tight stitch in Depa's chest. She feels a profound emptiness, a hole in her heart that feels almost physical. She cannot feel Caleb's happy warmth where she felt it only seconds previous, only a pulsing umbilicus of a Force bond clenched in agony. She cannot feel Caleb. She cannot feel Caleb.

"She's unresponsive to any stimulus. I'll give her a jab and we'll drag her off. Last thing we need is for her to come to in a panic while we've got hands on her."

"You're the medic."

She feels the questing probe of Mace, alarmed at whatever he must sense on his end of their bond even from light years away. She doesn't remember how to touch back, and instead she slips away like a silk scarf from his metaphysical touch. She feels a fear that is foreign, sharp and hot and very much not hers. She doesn't remember ever sensing her Master's fear before.

"Easy, General. This'll just be a little pinch. There you go, lay back. I've got you."

"You carry the General, I'll shoot. Got it, Sergeant?"

"Yessir!"

Depa floats into the air, secure in a pair of plastoid arms. She cannot feel her body. She cannot feel Caleb. She cannot feel much of anything, anymore, but she does hear the whistle of another mortar right as the darkness overtakes her.

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork, @febuwhump, @soliloquy-of-nemo Divider: @saradika-graphics

[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.

[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-

[lee-lucius]

Tickletober Day 11: Squeal

Summary: Mash asks for help working out, but Dot can't seem to take it seriously.

Word Count: 994

"Why do you need my help anyway? Can't you lift way more than this?" Dot asked, settling onto Mash's back as he began doing pushups. 

After all of the inhuman feats he'd seen from Mash, Dot's one hundred and sixty pounds, if he was being generous, didn't seem like much in comparison. 

"This is still good for endurance training," Mash answered, not breaking a sweat despite the steady speed of his exercise.

"I guess," he shrugged, propping his arms above his head and laying down on Mash. If his strength was anything to go by, they'd probably be here for a while before Mash got tired. Not that he was complaining; he enjoyed any time he got to spend with his friend.

Okay, maybe he was complaining just a little bit. But they'd been out here forever! And Mash wasn't even showing any signs of fatigue yet, how much longer was this supposed to go on?

There wasn't even anything to do, except for bang his head against Mash's rock hard back and hope he'd hit it hard enough to pass out, because at least then he'd finally be done with it.

"This is totally boring."

Mash stilled his movements, "Do you want to go?"

"Depends. You done working out yet?"

"No."

Damn it! Curse him for being such a good friend.

Dot sighed, "Then no."

"Okay," Mash said, resuming his workout. "After this, we can go eat cream puffs together."

Dot had a feeling Mash would be eating cream puffs with or without him, but at least he'd get something after this torture  

In an attempt to alleviate his boredom, he began tapping his hands against Mash's back, drumming along to the beat of his workout. That quickly got tiring though, and he shifted on his side with another sigh, propping his head up with the palm of his hand, his other hand beginning to trace random shapes on Mash's back.

There was an odd sound, a weirdly high-pitched choking noise, oddly like a squeal, that made Dot spring up, patting Mash's back. "You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry. That just tickled.

"Did it?" He asked, a smirk growing across his face. Now this was a surefire way to entertain himself. 

Mash only nodded, oblivious, and returned to his workout. The unsuspecting fool.

Dot waited as long as he could, whistling to himself and trying to contain his mischievous glee so Mash wouldn't see it coming. 

Then, he began. Perched cross-legged on Mash's lower back, he decided to start easy. Slowly, he took a single finger, dragging it down Mash's spine, making him sputter once more, but he continued with his exercise. 

Dot bit back a laugh, continuing his gentle motion as repeatedly drew his nail up and down Mash's spine. He didn't even know someone could be ticklish beneath all these muscles, but it proved surprisingly effective. 

"Dohohot," Mash giggled, "you're tihickling me again."

"Really?" His smirk grew, "This'll be good for you. It can help either endurance, right?"

"I dohon't see how thihihis helps."

"Come on, don't be like that," Dot did laugh that time, scribbling his hands across the back of Mash's neck.

Dot laughed again at Mash's squeak before he burst into rapid giggles, surprisingly high-pitched for him. Despite the ticklish sensations, Mash took his training seriously and remained undeterred. Boring.

"I'll stop when you stop training," he announced, hoping to speed up the end of this. 

"Now… where else are you ticklish?" Dot asked, lightly raking his hands along his back, searching for anywhere that elicited a reaction.

Scratching at his shoulder blades made his giggles louder and his arms ever-so-lightly trembled, becoming a minuscule slower in their repetitions.

It wasn't enough to make Mash give up, but when Dot poked his back in a certain spot, in between his shoulder blades and at the back of his ribs, it produced the same surprising noise from earlier as an uncharacteristic squeal came from him. His arms, trembling, gave out as Dot poked the same spot again, sending them both crashing to the ground.

If it were anyone else, Dot would be worried he'd crushed someone after falling on them like that, but Mash wasn't exactly normal, so he didn't let it phase him.

Instead, he monopolized on this momentary weakness, using one hand to wiggle against that spot while the other dug into Mash's side. "Done yet?"

Mash resisted the urge to turn onto his back, both from fear of hurting Dot and of exposing more of his tickle spots. 

Dot stopped, rolling off of Mash and into the grass next to him, pumping his fist in the air as he cheered, "Yes!"

His laughter grew louder as he begrudgingly nodded, giving into Dot demands with a loud "Yehehes."

He'd have to come back to finish his workout later, but a cream puff break never hurt, and he didn't think he could accomplish much more when he was getting tickled like this. He'd always been too sensitive to that kinda stuff.

After Dot finished gloating and Mash caught his breath, they helped each other off and headed back towards the kitchen at Mash's request.

"I didn't know you were ticklish."

"I didn't know you'd hate training that much."

"Hey, who said anything about hating it?" He shook his head, knocking his shoulder into Mash's impossibly muscular one. "Just gets boring and seems stupid when a rock could do the same job."

He paused, mid-step, realizing Mash had never answered his earlier question. "Why did you want my help?"

Mash was a stoic guy, but there was something about his expression that suddenly seemed a bit shy. "I like spending time with you.

Dot blinked, a faint flush rising go his cheeks as he looked away from Mash. "Yeah? Well, I could always help you again."

Somehow, despite the missing laugh and smile from when Dot was tickling him, Mash seemed to look like the happiest he had in years.

"Let's get cream puffs first."

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

for the prompt game #72 4 & 7 along with #75 7 withhh minho and reader please? from these chaotic prompts i imagine something mysterious or spooky or scripted pranks or all of the above lmao. but i’m curious to see your take on it 👀 have fun!

SKZ PROMPT GAME

Prompts: "Hang on, hang on, I have the perfect playlist for this scenario-" "Now is not the time!!!"

"You're incredible." "Aw, thanks!" "Not a compliment, babe."

"It's quiet. Too quie-" "HELLO?? IS ANYONE IN HERE?!"

Member: Lee Minho

Relationship: Ghost Hunters FemReader x Minho

Genre: Crack, Mystery, Thriller

Warning: Smoking, Ghosts(?), Haunted Places, Probably Illegal Activities 😂

"You're slowly killing yourself, you know." You announce, side eying your boyfriend as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette.

Minho rolls his eyes, but keeps his attention on the road, fitting the cigarette between his lips, the hand not currently on the steering wheel patting around in his coat for a lighter.

"Yeah, so you've told me before."

You lean out the open window, letting the cool, night breeze blow your hair back.

"Just trying to keep you safe, babe." You remark back sweetly, closing your eyes as Minho turns off the main road and onto a darker, more rugged one that leads into the trees.

You feel his gaze on you now, full of judgement and disbelief.

"She says, as if she doesn't drag me off every weekend to look for ghosts and break into abandoned shit holes."

You shrug, leaning back in the car to fiddle with the music, turning up the hard rock until it can be heard over the whistling wind.

When you look at Minho, his cigarette burns bright red between his lips in the blackness of the car's interior.

You bat your eyelashes at him and make a kissy face, as he clearly makes a face of disgust and tosses his cigarette out the open window.

"Thanks, babe, for always coming with me to look for malicious spirits and doing all the hard work-like driving and bashing in doors and shit."

"Yeah, Yeah." Minho mumbles beneath his breath, flipping you off affectionately, as he rolls the car to a stop in front of your destination. "Get your shit. We're here."

You squeal excitedly, turning to dig in the back seat for your bag full of equipment, and when you emerge again with a headlamp strapped securely to your forehead, and a camera in hand, Minho stares at you like you've just grown a third head.

You stare right back. "What?"

He shakes his head slowly. "You're incredible."

"Aw, thanks!"

He moves to open his door, letting out a long, clearly tired sigh.

"Not a compliment, babe."

He gets out, and you follow him, hurrying to catch up to him as he stuffs the keys and his hands into the pockets of his jacket, looking up at the deserted building looming out of the darkness before you.

Distaste crosses his features as he takes in the rotting door hanging off its hinges and the crude graffiti sprayed across what's left of the crumbling brick entrance.

"God, this is even more of a shit hole than your usual places." He turns to you, arching a brow. "Remind me how you found this place again?"

You shrug, walking forward a few steps to kick a piece of rubble out of the way to the door.

"Some stoner kid at school."

"Sounds credible." Minho grumbles sourly beneath his breath, following you to the entrance, as he lights another cigarette.

You glance over your shoulder at him. "C'mon, sour puss. This'll be fun."

"You and I have very different definitions of the word fun, babe."

You stick your tongue out at him and turn back to the building, raising your old camcorder as you turn it on and make sure the video is focused.

You scan the video across the outside of the building, taking in the grafiti and the crumbling facade.

"Ooh, Min, look at those boobs someone painted. Those are nice boobs."

Minho snuffs his cigarette out beneath the sole of his converse and pushes past you, entering the building.

"Oh my god, let's just get this over with."

You grin, following closely behind him.

"You're supposed to say 'not as nice as yours, babe!'" You tease over his shoulder, taking in the large entrance hall of what supposedly used to be a mansion, swinging your camera around to capture the area as you walk.

Minho rolls his eyes, and steps around a puddle collecting in a hole in the rotten, wooden floor.

"Aren't ghosts supposed to like the quiet or something?"

"Are you telling me to shut up?" You sass back, leaving his side to film an old, shattered mirror still hanging on one of the walls.

Minho scoffs. "I dunno, would it work?"

"No."

Minho sighs and moves around you to push open the next doorway, revealing a sort of sitting room, a dilapidated piano collapsed in the corner.

You step forward, trying to see if any of the keys make any noise still, and Minho kicks aside a loose piece of flooring with a clatter.

You glance back at him after your perusal of the piano, and he motions toward the staircase you passed with a jerk of his head.

"Upstairs next?"

You nod, readying your camera. "Yeah."

Minho ascends first, testing each step to make sure it will hold your weight, and you follow him, using the miniscule light from the camera to guide both your footing.

When you reach the creaky, narrow second floor landing, Minho's fingers tighten around the banister, and he cocks his head, as if suddenly listening.

You almost run into his back at the abrupt stop, peeking around him to see if there's something there.

Nothing.

"What?" You whisper, glancing around him again.

"It's quiet. Too quie-" He starts to mutter back, eyes narrowing.

You step around him and call out, hands around your mouth to make your voice echo, "HELLO?? IS ANYONE IN HERE?!"

Minho immediately slaps his hand over your mouth, giving you a glare.

"There could be a hobo living in here, waiting to murder us!" Minho hisses seriously, fingers pinching your cheeks.

You both wait in breathless silence.

Nothing but the old sounds of the house and the remnants of your voice echo back to you.

You lick his palm, and he pulls his hand off your mouth with a look of disgust, wiping his hand on his pants as you arch a brow and smirk at him.

"Pretty sure if we were going to get murdered, babe, we would have been so by now." You remark back casually.

You step past him, headed to the first room.

Minho grumbles something under his breath in response, but you hear him follow you after several seconds anyway.

Entering the first bedroom, you sweep the light of the camera over its contents, landing on an old, worn baby doll lying on the bed in the corner, staring at you with large, dark, button eyes.

Behind you, Minho shivers. "That is creepy as shit."

"Yeah." You agree quietly, stepping forward, and picking up the doll, even as he lets out a little squawk of protest from the doorway.

You turn it over in your hands, studying it, before setting it back down and nodding, meeting his gaze.

"Definitely haunted."

Minho lets out the breath he had been holding and narrows a glare on you.

"You literally have no sense of self preservation, do you?"

"Nope." You reply, popping the p past your lips, grinning, as you step out of the room and back into the hallway, taking his hand. "C'mon. Let's explore the rest of the rooms."

The rest of the upstairs is uneventful, and eventually, Minho drags you back down to the bottom floor and out onto the porch, claiming he needs a cigarette, and that he's not going to light it up in this 'deathtrap of rotting kindling and ancient

As he leans against the railing on one side of the porch, shaking ash over the edge, you move to the other, peering over the side into the brambles of the overgrown front yard.

You sigh, propping your chin up on your hand, and glance up at the gathering clouds, covering the stars.

"Looks like it's going to rain." You remark, kicking a crumbling edge of the railing off the porch, sending it careening into the bushes.

Minho snorts and takes another long drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke slowly out through the part of his lips.

"Great. Another way to make my night even more miserable."

You glance over your shoulder at him and grin, and he arches a brow at you in challenge.

"Okay, so there were no ghosts. This location was a bust." You turn, leaning against the railing, crossing your arms over your chest, holding his gaze. "But, at least we got this super creepy doll out of it, right?"

You reach into the duffle bag where you hid the doll, and hold it up toward Minho.

He goes pale, scrabbling back to get away from you and the toy, dropping his cigarette in the process.

"Fuck."

You laugh, creeping toward him, arm still outstretched, teasingly wiggling the doll as you pitch your voice higher.

"C'mon Minho. Play with me! Playyyyy with meeeee!"

Minho bats your hand away with a scowl.

"Babe, get that creepy fucking thing away from me right now or else I'll-"

Minho's threat is cut off by the sound of something rustling in the bushes around the side of the house, and you both freeze, his eyes going wide.

"What was that?" He breathes out, fingers clenching around your forearm, the doll forgotten.

You glances into the darkness, but can't make anything out.

"I dunno." You whisper back, creeping closer to the railing, as the noise sounds again, closer this time. "We should check it out-" You start to say, but Minho is curling his fingers around your arm and dragging you off the porch, hauling ass back to the car like a mad man possessed.

"No the fuck we should not." He shakes his head, dragging you behind him, practically running now. "We're getting the fuck out of here."

Your duffle bags thumps heavily against your back, and you stumble over something in the dark trying to keep up.

You glance behind you, back at the house being swallowed back into the darkness, and you swear you see eyes, watching you leave.

Minho jangles his keys in the door of the car, finally getting it unlocked, and shove you into the passenger side, shutting the door with a slam, before he scrambles around the front and gets in behind the wheel, already shoving the keys into the ignition as the car roars to life.

It promptly sputters out before he can shift into gear.

"Fuck." Minho swears, jiggling the keys, pumping the gas a couple of times frantically. "Stupid, piece of shit, c'mon!"

He messes with the keys, and you glance out the front windshield, but can't see the house anymore.

Or the eyes.

As Minho tries and fails to start the car a second time, you reach into the bag at your feet, searching until you come up triumphantly with your phone in hand.

"Hang on, hang on." You announce, reaching for the AUX cord, even as Minho swears again and finally gets the car started. "I have the perfect playlist for this scenario-"

"Now is not the time!!" Minho blurts out, slamming the car into gear and backing down the old mining road at a breakneck pace, his glare whipping back and forth between the rearview mirror and you.

You shrug, settling back into your seat as Pink Floyd begins to blare over the old car's speakers.

"I dunno. I kinda dig some theme music in times like this."

Minho looks at you with absolute shock and disbelief, reaching up to tug at his hair in exasperation as you reach the main road and your headlights find the path back to town.

He lets out a hoarse, completely humorless laugh tinged with a scoff.

His shaking fingers find and light a cigarette from his pocket.

"You're gonna kill me way faster and sooner than any cigarette ever could, babe."