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frost-queen · 1 year ago

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Bodyguarded // part 3 (Reader!Grimes x Daryl Dixon)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, Tag: @strangerthingslover69, @ankhmutes, @yoowhatthefuck, @sseleniaa, @deansapplepie, @abbiesxox

Summary: After your little fall-out with Shane, you start to distance yourself. Daryl gives zero f*cks about you distancing yourself as he keeps himself aroud. During a heart to heart with Daryl, you might discover more of the underlying tone of Shane's attitude towards you. [series]

Crickets cricked in the bushes around the fire. Rick sat by the fire with Lori and Carl. Carl was leaning against him staring at the mesmerizing flames. Lori was in deep thought. Some had joined them but mostly everyone had an agenda of their own. Daryl stood a bit further away, leaning against a tree. His gaze turned away from the fire, but rather turned towards you. You weren’t engaging with the crowd, but keeping your distance from them.

You felt humiliated. Like a spying glass had been cast upon you. Everywhere you went, a set of curious eyes followed. Trying to figure out what was going on between Shane and you. Frankly you hardly had a clue to his behaviour towards you. Perhaps you needed to dig deep. Go way back to old memories from before the fall. Before the world went to hell.

Looking over at your brother made you smile faintly. He looked so happy yet somehow you felt like an outsider. Adverting your gaze from him, you turned your posture to take your leave. Going further away from the others to find solitude. The moment you got in motion, went Daryl after you. Leaving the others for what they were to go with you.

Hearing a second pair of feet trail behind you, you exhaled deep. – “Daryl I want to be alone.” – you told him keeping your pace up. – “Fine. I’ll just keep my distance.” – he answered slowing a bit down. Looking up with a heavy sigh, you stopped. – “Daryl you don’t understand. I don’t want you here!” – you made clear having turned around to him. – “Too bad for I’m not going anywhere.” – he made clear. – “Daryl!” – you groaned out. – “What!” – he called back going in defence.

You groaned loud pressing your palms against your eyes, feeling yourself get worked up. – “Daryl please give me some space.” – you begged. – “I’ll give you space but at least let me be around.” – he asked in return. It made you furrow your brows. – “I don’t want to lose… I mean… if a walker appears…” – he spoke swallowing a lot of his words back in. – “Then what? I can shoot Daryl, remember!” – you made clear.

“I know but you…” – he exhaled loud walking up to you. – “You are not in the right headspace right now.” – he told you, touching your elbow. You turned your head bothered away. You hated how right he was. – “Just… just let me keep you save.” – he lowered his head a bit to catch your attention.

Untensing your muscles with a deep sigh, you surrendered to him. Daryl took you by the other elbow as well, pulling you closer to his body. Sensing just how much you needed it. He wrapped his arms one by one around you. Your arms remained at your side, not feeling it yet. – “Give it a few moments.” – Daryl teased half chuckling. You scrunched your nose, hating how right he was. Not a moment later you gave in, wrapping your arms around him too.

“Good girl.” – he said chuckling. You slapped him hard on the back. – “Don’t patronize me.” – you responded grumpy. Daryl removed his arms from around you, cupping your cheek as he tilted your head a bit back. – “Never.” – he whispered staring down at you. He left a quick kiss on your forehead as it didn’t feel satisfying to you.

He let go of you, spinning you around by your shoulders. He started pushing you through the woody parts of the camp. – “Where are we going?” – you questioned. – “To be alone, like you wanted.” – he simply said, continue to push you forwards. Using you like a compass, navigating his way through.

You came to a clearing in the woods. All the cars were parked over there. Daryl guided you towards the truck opening the door for you at the drivers seat. You got inside, watching him jog around to get in on the other side. He shut the door firm behind him. – “Solitude and silence.” – he joked. – “You are still here.” – you reminded him with a tease. Daryl leaned down in the seat, getting all comfy. – “No I’m not.” – he adjusted the seating lower, leaning back.

“Go ahead and mope or cry or shout, just wake me up when you see a walker.” – he said casually flopping his arm over his head. – “Daryl!” – you said laughingly nudging him hard. – “What?” – he responded unable to hide a smile. – “You’re an idiot.” – you nudged him again with a silly smile on your face. – “I know.” – he answered all smug. He shut his eyes, pretending to take a nap.

You exhaled soft looking out of the dusty window. – “It’s a bit too quiet.” – you said out loud. – “I’m not singing any songs.” – Daryl mumbled in response without moving a muscle. It made you laugh. Daryl set himself back up with a deep exhale. – “Alright fighter, let’s talk.” – he tapped his hand on your knee.

You grabbed the steering wheel staring in front of you. – “How are you feeling with your brother being back, Y/n?” – he asked. You breathed out a laugh, looking at him. – “What I can be serious.” – he let out making you laugh even more. You then calmed letting your hands rejoice at the top of the steering wheel. – “It still feels a bit weird seeing him alive. Don’t get me wrong I am overjoyed he is alive… it is just…” – you started. – “You thought he was dead for so long.” – Daryl finished as you hummed.

“Before… before it all went down my brother was shot.” – You told Daryl. – “They were armed and shot at my brother. Shane… my brother’s partner brought him to the hospital. He wasn’t waking up so they left him in a coma. It was already then a risk if he would make it out alive.” – taking a deep breath you let your forehead rest against your hands on the steering wheel. Suddenly you were pulled back in the memories of the first strike.

Shane drove his car aggressively onto the front lawn. He stepped out all worked up when Lori appeared in the door. – “Shane?” – she said. – “Lori get your bags!” – Shane ordered pointing firm at her. Carl squeezed himself between the opening and his mom, coming in front of her. – “Lori your bags!” – Shane shouted having opened the trunk. – “What for? What is going on Shane?” – She asked feeling herself go in a panic because of his behaviour.

A few houses away broke the window with a clashing sound. Screams filled the streets when a woman tripped. A person going up to her and dropped himself to the ground. A moment later his head lifted a bit of flesh between his teeth. Blood staining his chin as he munched on the flesh. Lori covered up Carl’s eyes, shakingly holding a hand before her mouth. – “Lori!” – Shane yelled startling her. – “The bags!” – Lori nodded shockingly letting go of Carl.

Shane rushed over to Carl, grabbing him roughly by the arm. – “What about dad?” – Carl asked when Shane opened the car door. Shane pushed Carl on the backseat, closing the door on him. Shane ran into the house to help out Lori. Carl looked out of the window, crying silently at what he saw. Flesh being ripped off and blood splattering all around.

You were running horrified by what was occurring. Utter panic in the streets. People eating people. Biting bits and pieces for their own hunger. You didn’t lived far so your first reaction was running over to Rick’s house. There you saw Shane’s car parked poorly on the grass. Upon seeing Carl in the car, you started running faster. – “Carl!” – you shouted loud. Carl heard some muffled sounds before his eyes fell upon you. – “Auntie Y/n!” – he called out, pushing the car door open.

He ran up to you, bumping hard against you. He was crying loud against your body as you shielded him from the horrors. Lori and Shane came out of the house with bags. – “Y/n!” – Lori said surprised. – “Get in the car!” – Shane ordered to Lori. Lori nodded going to the car, tossing the bags in the trunk. Shane walked up to Carl, pulling him off you. – “In the car!” – he shouted at Carl, tossing him towards the car. Lori took Carl, putting him in the car.

“Where is Rick?” – you asked confused. Shane remained silent. – “You were with him! You were at the hospital so where is he?” – you wanted to know. – “Where is he?” – you shouted punching Shane on the shoulder. Shane grabbed you by the wrist. – “He’s gone!” – he shouted at you. – “No!” – you cried out.

“You are lying!” – you told him. Shane grabbed you by the arms. – “You want to go and see for yourself? Fine! It will be your dead. He is gone Y/n!” – Shane’s hands moved further around you towards your back as it made you step back before they could fully close around you. Shane’s expression hardened. – “Go chase a dead man than!” – he said rudely pushing you away.

You stumbled to the ground in shock. Shane stormed off towards his car. – “If you would just…” – he began, looking over his shoulder to you. Without another word he got in the car. Your eyes widened knowing what he was about to do. You got up to your feet running towards the car. The car got in motion as you missed it. It took a turn, driving off. – “Shane!” – you shouted running after the car.

“Shane!” – you screamed as the distance increased. You couldn’t keep up, you never could. Stopping you dropped to your knees crying and screaming. Carl on the backseat knocking against the glass and shouting was the last thing you saw.

Your head shot up making Daryl blink confused. – “Is…is everything alright?” – he asked after your long silence. – “He told me Rick was dead.” – you mumbled staring hard in front of you. Your hands tightening around the steering wheel. Knuckles turning white. – “He lied…” – you said a bit louder. – “Who?” – Daryl asked getting a bit cautious of how terrifying cold you were being. – “He lied!” – you called out.

Out of anger you started to slap your hand against the steering wheel. Hitting it repeatedly even when your hand felt sore. – “Y/n, Y/n.” – Daryl said trying to get you to stop. He grabbed your hands as you continued to slap, hitting Daryl in the process. He pulled them off the steering wheel pulling at your hands to turn your posture more towards him. He wrapped his arms around you tight as you cried your heart out against his chest.

Pressing his lips hard on top of your head. Daryl turned his head spotting a trailed off walker appear from between the trees. – “Y/n.” – he whispered. – “I’ll be right back… you stay here…” – he said as you felt his grip around you loosen. You lifted your head up as well, seeing the walker. Daryl moved his finger to his mouth, letting you know to remain silent. He then gestured for you to stay put. He was going to take care of it. Your gaze darted down to the crossbow on the floor. His arrows sticking up.

You grabbed an arrow, getting out of the car. – “Y/n!” – Daryl called out, hurrying out of the car. Clenching your grip around the arrow, you went up to the walker. – “Y/n!” – Daryl shouted as it caught the attention of the walker. The walker gaged making it’s way over to you. Daryl ran up to you trying to keep you out of harms way. You raised the arrow, jamming it into the walker’s eye. Pushing it further in, the walker fell backwards with you on top of it.

Pulling the arrow out of it, you jammed it again in it’s eye. Then again and again. Gory blood splashing up. You kept trusting it in the eye, creating a massive hole. – “Y/n! Y/n!” – Daryl called out grabbing your arm to stop you from hitting it once more. – “It’s dead.” – Daryl made clear. You gasped for air with a loud sob, lowering your arm. Daryl took the arrow from you.

You wiped some gore off your face with your arm. Getting up with a loud huff. You wanted to walk off as Daryl grabbed your wrist, keeping you in place. – “What the hell was that about?” – he wanted to know. You didn’t have to speak as he understood. Daryl searched his back pockets taking out a key with the most ridiculous keychains on them. He opened your hand slapping them in your hand.

It made you frown. – “You can drive if you like.” – he said. – “Daryl what… what do you…” – you began as he interrupted. – “I don’t need all of them! I don’t! Hell I can survive better on my own!” – he made clear with a loud tone. – “So f*ck them all and drive off!” – he continued finally making himself clear to you. He grabbed you by the shoulders with a deep exhale.

“All I care about is you Y/n. Let’s get in the car and go. Just go. Leave this pile of shit behind.” – he pulled you closer letting his forehead rest against yours. – “All I want is for you to be save Y/n. So say the word and we’ll leave.” – he finished. You closed your hand with the keys in it, smiling up to him. You kissed him tender on the lips.

Daryl held himself back knowing it was a bittersweet kiss. He knew you couldn’t leave Carl… or Rick. – “I’ll hold you to it.” – you told him not saying entirely no to his offering. Daryl cupped your cheeks, kissing you once more. Deepening his kiss. Lips brushing against one another. A promise made underneath the moonlight.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

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bokutosbabe · 11 days ago

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hello!! my top artist was xdinary heroes and my top song was walking to the moon! looking forward to see which bllk boy you match me with hehe

hii!!!

if your top artist was xdinary heroes and your top song was walking to the moon, i’d pair you with…

rin itoshi

જ⁀♡⊹｡° take your burden over there

♡ a/n — for my spotify wrapped event! - masterlist -

♡ content — rin itoshi x gn! reader, gn! reader, best friends, no feelings stated but can be interpreted in different ways, set before rin leaves for blue lock, randomly my second rin fic where they're on the roof

♡ synopsis — rin itoshi has always had a plan to leave behind everything to reach his older brother, even you.

The sky stretched above you like a painting you couldn’t fully understand, yet you couldn’t look away. It was a crisp evening, the last before the weight of the world would shift beneath your feet. You sat on the rooftop, legs dangling over the edge, feeling the cool night air ruffle your hair. The city lights below flickered like distant stars, but it was the empty space beside you that seemed most significant.

Rin sat next to you, his presence solid and still, though there was something about him that felt miles away. It was as though the boy beside you—your closest friend, the person you'd shared countless hours with—was already slipping through your fingers, fading with every passing second. You both knew what this night meant, even if neither of you spoke it aloud.

His eyes were fixed on the horizon, staring at the same stars that had guided you through your entire life. But tonight, they felt unreachable. You wanted to reach out, to say something—anything—but the words got lost somewhere between your chest and your mouth.

"I’m leaving," Rin finally said, voice low and strained. The words were a formality, like a line you’d heard a thousand times, but it still hit you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“I know.” You nodded, forcing a calmness into your voice, though your heart beat against your ribs like a drum. You didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to dig into the reasons. You knew what was coming. You knew it had to happen, but it didn’t make it any easier.

"You’re... you’re really going, huh?" The question hung in the air, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself more than him. You didn’t know why you asked—it felt like a waste of breath, but it was the only thing that made sense in the moment.

Rin's gaze shifted towards you, the barest hint of emotion flickering behind his stoic expression. "I have to. I can’t keep staying here, I have to be better...than sae." His words were sharp, but there was an underlying sadness to them, something he rarely let you see.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Rin.” You felt the pull to reach out, to offer him something more than just empty words, but the distance between you was growing. Your hand twitched at your side, but you stayed still, frozen in place.

His lips pressed together in a tight line, his jaw clenched as he looked away again. “I do. I’ve always been alone. If I want to be the best, that’s the price I have to pay.”

You watched him in silence, the weight of his words pressing on your chest. You had seen him push people away his whole life, but you never thought it would feel like this, never thought it would happen between the two of you.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” you murmured, your voice barely louder than the rustling leaves in the wind. “I don’t want you to go like this.”

Rin turned his head slightly, just enough for his eyes to meet yours, but it wasn’t the same. There was a coldness in them now, something that wasn’t there before. "You wouldn’t understand." He looked away again, as if he couldn’t bear to face the truth.

“I understand more than you think,” you said, your heart aching. You were friends with Sae too before he left, you'd already been abandoned by one Itoshi brother. “But I also know... this isn’t the right way.”

You thought you may have died if Rin left you too.

For a moment, he was quiet, and you almost thought he hadn’t heard you. But then he finally spoke, his voice softer now, barely a whisper against the night.

"You say that, but you’re not the one who’s been carrying this weight. You’re not the one who has to be the best at all costs."

You wanted to argue, to tell him that it wasn’t about being the best, that there were things more important than success and pride, but you couldn’t find the words.

What could you say? He was already so far ahead, running down a path that you could only watch from the sidelines.

Rin stood up suddenly, so fast you were scared he'd tumble from your roof, his figure outlined against the fading light of the city. He didn’t look back as he took a step away, his hands in his pockets. “I’ll do whatever it takes. And if that means leaving everything behind... then that’s what I’ll do.”

You felt the finality of his words deep in your chest. You should have said something more, but the space between you felt so vast.

The boy who had been by your side for so long was slipping away, and all you could do was watch.

“You’ll never know if it’s worth it,” you said softly, more to yourself than to him.

But Rin didn’t hear you. He was already walking away, the sound of his footsteps echoing off your roof in the night, leaving you with nothing but the empty space beside you.

And as you sat there, staring up at the stars that now felt impossibly far away, you realized something you hadn’t wanted to admit.

No matter how much you wanted to be beside him, he was already out of your reach.

this was lowkey one of my favorites to write

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

#★ · airybcbyy #airy posts #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi #blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #rin bllk #rin itoshi bluelock #blue lock x reader #rin x reader #airy answers asks :)#rin itoshi blue lock #bllk rin #bllk rin itoshi #blue lock rin itoshi #blue lock rin

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xenosagaepisodeone · 13 days ago

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been thinking about how collecting things acts as a form of play recently. obviously, certain hobbies like rock collecting involve aspects of what we would conventionally think of as 'play' (searching, digging, dusting and examining, etc), and the process of displaying something is often too, play (though we generally call it decorating). collecting anime figures or vintage action figures in particular often invokes a kind of play-pretend that isn't acknowledged due to the commercial elements of these hobbies, despite this play also underlying more conventional forms of collecting. Let's put garage kits, gunpla, figmas, and anything else that would give figure collecting overlap with productive kinds of playing out of mind of a moment. You go to amiami and buy a 1/6 scale hatsune miku figure for $120. Shipping is anywhere from $10-30 depending on where you're getting it from(pricey!). You have the intention to sit this figure on your desk and little else. No fancy photoshoots or anything(at best maybe a few photos to share), just You and Your Toy.

at the core what you're buying is just emotional proximity to the things or characters in media you like (<- deeply obvious and boring sentence, but please keep reading). a child will play with toys as a way of exploring both fantastical ideas and the world around them in a way that is safe. with collectible figurines, those ideas and fantasies are self-contained in the toy itself, the predictability and familiarity acting as another form of safety. the satisfying comfort of 'playing' occurs when you look at the figure and feel like its meaning is self-evident. the act of 'play' becomes the bond you have developed to the object. the object is real. you can define yourself in relation to it- but more importantly, the ownership over this object affords you the ability to define the object in a way that would be somewhat less warranted as a mere spectator of a book or tv series. miku isn't just a figure, she is your idol, or your daughter, or a weird pet. this bond you have dictated has made her more real, and your self-concepts by extension. but this is all playing at the end of the day because she is a toy. a rock collector takes pride in their collection in part because of their love for rocks, but also because it reflects their mastery over understanding the world of rocks. it becomes testament to the relationship with their special subject. they are transformed by the physical presence of the rock. anime figure collecting is quite similar.

hoarding is kind of interesting with re: collecting because to me it's the process of play being stilted. there is desire but not so much intimacy between the person and their object. i often get the impression that hoarders desire to play with their objects, but are inhibited from being able to engage in that kind of vulnerability, instead turning the act of acquisition into a kind of less enriching pseudo-play. after all, hoarding can be a response to periods of traumatic deprivation. the hoarder who accumulates tons of stuff receives some of the comfort and safety of play via the guarantee of a new item added to their collection. they aren't sure how to treasure their objects beyond ensure that they are not thrown away. they cannot 'play' with them, and have their relationship defined largely by the emotions created by the absence of play. by being unable to engage with play and thus failing to acquire the fulfillment or enrichment of play, they end up snagged in what usually ends up being a frustrating cycle.

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theresoneicouldcallking · 10 months ago

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ok this entire first episode back felt so much more like 9-1-1 than the past few seasons.

athena's dig at the oscars was phenomenal

buck and natalia breaking up off-screen for the exact reasons we all hated them together

eddie's very not-heterosexual reaction to this news

"except in only one case is there underlying sexual tension." i see what you did there tim

christopher being a casanova and eddie deciding that's his other dad's problem to solve

the conversation between buck and christopher. so well done, love how serious it was. heartbreaking to see buck understand chris so well, and to watch eddie hear this from the hallway

shannon's letter, and devin actually being there to read it to him! that was so beautiful, and i love how afterwards, chris put the picture faced up again.

athena looking for reasons everywhere to avoid being alone with bobby is actually really sad, so i really hope the show doesn't drop this.

"oooorrrrr he murderded his wife."

the show immediately bringing back eddie's past with panic attacks, only now he's able to use this experience to help someone else.

chminey and hen being teasing roasting best friends as always

#god this episode felt like a reset in so many ways #and i loved it #911 #911 on abc #911 abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #athena grant #bobby nash #howie han #hen wilson #christopher diaz #buddie

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thechaoticplayer · 10 months ago

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Can I request hex haywire with a stressed s/o and going down on them?

author's note:

TEEHEHEHEHEHEHE (I wrote this around 3 am i apologize if it's super wack)

Summary: You're super stressed! Hex wonderful bf he is) by offering some sort of relief!

Contains: established relationship, nsfw content, Hex going down on ya, ugh this man makes me go nuts, gn! Reader with female attributes NONE OF MY WORKS ARE PROOFREAD

"What's wrong darling? you seemed stressed," HEX HAYWIRE asks as you snuggle against him with a pathetic groan. He immediately goes to massaging your thighs, eyes intent on you.

"Kind of," you admit, rubbing your eyes. "I just have so much on my plate right now, it's ridiculous. My boss thinks I'm some sort of superhuman doing all the work while my colleagues do shit, my clothes aren't done from the cleaners, I'm in charge of my cousin's birthday party- it's just so much."

You melt into his chest, closing your eyes as Hex massages your legs. He hums in understanding, giving your forehead a peck. "That does sound like a lot of work. An unreasonable amount of work. Overworking yourself isn't ideal, you know."

"I know, I've been trying but..." you trail off, your mouth slanting into your cheek. "Life said 'fuck you' and I'm just taking it at this point."

Hex goes silent for a moment, watching you over the brim of his glasses. He could feel the tension in your body, and the stress was really eating at you.

"My love, I just wanted to tell you how much I'm proud of you. Look at you, taking it like a champ," Hex says with a chuckle, and you open your eyes to give him a mean glare at the underlying meaning. "How about I relax you for a bit?"

"And how would you do that?"

Your boyfriend pulls away from you entirely, and you almost protested. You realize, as he sits himself down in front of you, in between your legs as you sit still on the couch, that he wasn't leaving. A light kiss against the side of your knee already sends butterflies up into your stomach.

"By pleasuring you. How does that sound?" Hex asks, voice velvety and seductive. The effects this man had on you was insane. Just him looking up at you with such a filthy look in his eyes with a mixture of love and need to help you, made you nearly run your thighs together for friction.

"That..." you inhale. "Doesn't sound too bad at all."

"Good good..." Taking each thigh with his large hands (his palms and fingers practically wrapped arond your whole thigh, and still touched! Insanity!), he gently pulls your legs apart to deliver kisses all across your thighs. You smile a bit.

But once you felt his hot breaths pan your clothed core, need suddenly made itself known to you. Your breath hitches as Hex pauses, tilting his head to the side as he gazes up at you.

"What do you want, baby?"

"I want you," you breathe, biting your lip just a tad. You squirm in your seat, the heat between your legs almost too much.

"Where do you want me, baby? I know you're a smart one and know how to use your words," Hex cooes, breaths ghosting over you but moving away to plant another kiss on your inner thigh.

"I want you t-there," you reply with sudden shyness, pointing to your sex.

He grins, a mischievous little smile, and he begins to tug off your pants and underwear. Throwing your legs over his broad shoulders, spreading you apart for him. It was getting really hard to keep your breaths normal, especially when he was so close to where you needed him most.

He licks a long stripe up your sex, making you give out a breathy moan. You angle your head back, eyelids fluttering as Hex continued his slow laps at your core. His tongue teases at your entrance, gliding over it and never sliding fully in. His teeth graze your clit, making you jolt and whimper.

Finally, he just takes you all in his mouth, opening wide and lapping at your sensitiveness. You instantly tug at his hair, pressing him further into you. A groan causes electricity to shoot up your spine and you moan, one hand digging into the mattress.

Your boyfriend sucks on the sensitive spot, assaulting it with all he has. Licking and sucking quickly, the orgasm speedily approaching at such a high speed, your vision turned white for a time. Slurping up your juices into his mouth, he was eating like a man starved, panting and growling low in his throat like a animal.

"H-Hex! Imma-" you choke on your words as your boyfriend sucks on that spot again.

"Cum, come on baby, cum for me, you're doing so well," he pants against you, never stopping his assault. "Doing such a good time, 'm so proud of you."

The muscles in your stomach clench as your orgasm begins to take over. You let out a high moan, releasing all over his face hard. Hex just laps it all up, licking you clean with such gentleness. You heave for breath, vision hazy as you watch Hex lick his lips.

"How do you feel now?" Another kiss to your thigh as he helps you set down from your high.

"...good. really good. Thank you Hexy," you whisper, beckoning him close to give him a loving kiss. "You're the best boyfriend ever."

He blushes slightly at this, and you fix his lop sided glasses. "Anything for you, my love."

#chaotic.text #nijisanji #nijisanji en #vtuber #nijien #nijisanji smut #nijisanji x reader #hex haywire smut #hex haywire x reader #hex haywire #Hexhaywire.thirsts

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morbidsmenagerie · 7 days ago

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Scorpion Behavior

I'm writing this guide to help keepers get a baseline for what is normal behavior for their scorpion and what is unusual or concerning. Scorpions are not as commonly kept as tarantulas and have both claws and tails that can perform a wide variety of body language signaling, which can be hard for their keepers to read. Understanding what a scorpion's body language is saying, and being able to identify when a scorpion is stressed or not, is invaluable for providing the best care you can. Scorpions that are constantly stressed or uncomfortable are either being kept in adverse conditions or do not have a secure enough hide or burrow to retreat to, and continual stress over long periods of time will impact your scorpion's health.

I have also seen a lot of questions from new keepers that aren't sure how their scorpion is supposed to behave, and aren't sure which behaviors indicate an underlying problem. I'll also go over what to expect when keeping a scorpion and what their general behavior looks like, as well as some things that might be concerning for a new keeper to see.

Normal Behaviors

Scorpions are sedentary animals by nature. Even the more active ones that are more nomadic and will wander around between scrapes spend most of the day inactive. A scorpion that sits in a burrow or under a hide most of the time is a happy one. For some obligate burrowers, it's not uncommon for them to remain in their burrow for months at a time. In captivity, scorpions such as Scorpio sp, Hadrurus sp, and Heterometrus sp especially seem to be reluctant to leave their burrows. Scorpions that dig excessively or are usually out and redoing or moving their burrows probably do not have adequate substrate or space to burrow in. This usually happens with Hadrurus sp that are given loose sandy substrate, because their burrows will eventually collapse with excessive digging and they'll start over and try to dig another one. For Hadrurus being kept on loose substrate, I've found that giving them a very large hide that allows them to dig a large burrow underneath without it collapsing is the best way to get them to stop doing this.

Scorpions also frequently go off food. Especially for mature males, they will often refuse food for many months at a time. They seem to prefer to fast and gorge. If your temperatures are adequate, a scorpion refusing food is nothing to be concerned about. Scorpions will also go off food during premolt or close to giving birth. Looking at body condition will give you a good idea of whether or not you should be concerned.

This scorpion is extremely thin. The tergites (plates on the top) are touching the sternites (plates on the bottom) and the pleural membrane (greyish membrane connecting them) is not visible at all. This scorpion needs to drink and eat immediately, at this point I would give water by hand using a paint brush, q-tip, or blunt syringe. You can also cut mealworms or feeders into the water before giving it to them to help perk them up and take it more readily, and to give them more nutrients.

This scorpion is a bit on the thin side, the tergites are slightly overlapping and the pleural membrane is visible but visibly wrinkly. I would ensure this scorpion eats soon and provide a source of water.

This is where I typically like to keep my scorpions. The tergites are slightly spaced out, the pleural membrane is a bit rounded and looks soft and relaxed, and is generally not wrinkled. Some keepers would put this on the slightly overfed region, but I prefer to keep my scorpions well fed and let them slim down when they fast.

This scorpion is (hopefully) getting ready to molt. Not all of them will be quite this fat going into a molt, but generally the scorpion looks very bloated and the pleural membrane is stretched and taut. Typically they will stop eating at this point. Some scorpions will be this size even without being in premolt, this particular scorpion pictured has been around this size for almost a year and hasn't molted yet. Every 3 months or so I'll give her a small cricket just to keep her going, and so far she hasn't refused food or gotten any thinner.

This scorpion is gravid. Experience will make it easier to tell a fat scorpion from a gravid one, the shape of the body is slightly different. Close to giving birth though, it's often possible to see the shape of the embryos through the pleural membrane, which is a guaranteed way to determine if a scorpion is gravid. At this point the scorpion will have stopped eating, and will eventually seal themselves in a hide or burrow to give birth.

Relaxed Scorpion

A relaxed scorpion is one that is generally comfortable in it's environment. The pedipalps are held to the side, and the tail will be held slightly curled and either completely horizontal or slightly angled. The legs are not excessively curled under the body. Typically this is the pose they take under their hides, though they will sit like this out in the open if they've become accustomed to captivity. This is how they'll look most of the time, though when you move the enclosure or lift up a hide to check on them don't be surprised if their body language suddenly changes.

Alert Scorpion

This is the pose of a scorpion that has recently been disturbed or is looking for prey. It looks a bit different from a stressed scorpion (which we'll look at later). The metasoma is up though usually not arched excessively over the back, and the pedipalps are forward and investigating. The scorpion might walk around, especially if it senses prey and is trying to find it. Under a hide, though, the scorpion might just reach out and feel around with it's pedipalps. The movement will look controlled and investigative, if the scorpion walks it will be at a slow pace.

This is a video that demonstrates this well, in this video the scorpion has a relatively relaxed tail, her pedipalps are often outstretched and she feels around in her environment, her pectines move back and forth to sense the substrate, and she walks at a slow, almost hesitant pace.

In this video the scorpion is searching for a cricket I had put in the container and she detected, still her movements are relatively unhurried and her pectines are feeling around but her tail is much more upright and her movements are a bit more jerky. She is exploring but alert to the prey in the area.

Defensive Pose

This is the body language of a scorpion that believes it might be in danger. It's not quite at full on fight or flight yet, and I'm putting it in normal behaviors because it represents just a higher level of alertness and uncertainty. Some species, in particular Paravaejovis spinigerus and Orthochirus species, will almost ball up and curl their metasoma almost entirely over their backs. Claws are usually held more tightly to the sides and legs may be pulled in closer to the body.

In large clawed species, particularly Pandinus and Heterometrus, the metasoma is not usually brought all the way over the top of the backs but will be more upright and slightly raised. Claws are usually held in front of the face. In Gigantometrus species and some Heterometrus this is particularly pronounced, and the claws will be crossed in front of the body almost like a shield.

Stress Behaviors

Some scorpions freeze when they are stressed, which is hard to determine visually because they will freeze in whatever position they happen to be in when they are disturbed. A scorpion that has freezed is usually doing it to avoid detection, if you continue to bother the scorpion it will usually either threat pose or bolt. Some species are very good at freezing though, and will stay frozen in the position they're in even when being handled or flipped over. Experience will help you differentiate a scorpion that is frozen and stressed and a scorpion that is just being still.

Threat Pose

A scorpion that is threat posing is one that believes it is in danger. Some species will threat pose much more readily than others, this body language should tell you that if you continue to mess with the scorpion you should expect a sting or a pinch. The pedipalps will be open wide, the claws will be open, and the tail will be strongly arched into the air. In some species, like Gigantometrus swammerdami, they will threat post with their claws held tightly in front of them.

Bolting

Bolting looks markedly different than the exploratory walk shown earlier. A scorpion that bolts is moving very quickly, and often wont stop until it hits some sort of barrier or it finds a sheltered space to hide under. Scorpions can bolt very abruptly (usually from a freeze) and use it to escape a potential predator.

Glass Dancing

Glass dancing is similar to bolting in that it comes from a scorpion trying to escape a situation it doesn't like. This is extremely common with new animals or animals that are placed in new enclosures. Once they settle in and establish hides and burrow that are safe, this behavior will stop. A scorpion that is glass dancing for a long period of time or one that does this even when a hide or burrow is available is either trying to escape an adverse environmental condition (too hot, wet, cold, ect) or does not want to use the hide or burrow provided. I would investigate your enclosure parameters and/or move around and provide different options for hides. Substrate type and moisture might also be a problem.

Sick/Dying/Dead

A scorpion that is sick or dying will have an extremely flat, limp tail. Sometimes the tail will be so flat it will even look recurved, as in bent in the opposite direction it normally sits. They will look extremely weak and may move around in a way that looks sluggish and uncoordinated. Oftentimes, though not always, the legs will be tightly pulled under the body similarly to a spider's "death curl".

Other Behaviors

Stilting

Stilting is when a scorpion either lifts itself straight up from the substrate or lifts itself up at an angle with it's head pointed downwards. I've seen a few different explanations for this behavior. I've seen people say scorpions will do this to prepare for giving birth, but males and juveniles will do this also. I've also heard it serves a temperature regulation function, either to escape a hot surface underneath them or to get closer to a heat source above them. This can look similar to but is slightly different from the chelicerae cleaning behavior and the drinking behavior.

Chelicerae cleaning/Drinking

Grouping these because the pose is similar, in both cases the scorpion will be facing down to the substrate while the back half of i's body is elevated. Obviously when done over a water dish it's obvious the scorpion is drinking, but they will also do this over moist substrate to seemingly drink condensation out of the dirt. Chelicerae cleaning is similar and usually is done during eating or drinking when particulates get stuck to the chelicerae, scorpions will rub or drag their chelicerae through the substrate to get the substance off.

Dragging pedipalps through substrate

Don't have a video of this, but sometimes upon catching a prey item the scorpion will immediately start pushing their pedipalps around in the substrate, often partially burying their prey without letting go. I've also see them do this when their pedipalps get substrate stuck to them. This is also a way to clean residue off their pedipalps.

Tail wagging/waving

youtube

A very interesting behavior, this seems more common with species that are relatively tolerant with each other. This appears to be a way to communicate with other scorpions, basically a way to let them know that they themselves are not food, though I have also seen it with scorpions that are introduced to a new environment or are unsure about their surroundings.

Tail Clubbing

A defensive behavior where the scorpion bumps or clubs at a potential threat with their tail, usually with the telson tucked under the fifth segment. This is not an attempt to sting, and seems to be used often on other scorpions as a way to warn them without escalating to a sting and wasting venom.

Juddering

Usually done by the male, associated with mating. Male's will do this when they detect pheromones from the female, or will do this at the female to initiate mating. Males will also do this at each other to initiate arm span competitions.

Swaying

youtube

I'm going to be honest I don't know why she's doing this but you can also see another example of tail clubbing because she annoyed her tankmate.

Pooping

A scorpion that is walking forward with it's tail stretched out straight behind it is pooping. Included this here because flat tail usually means sick or dying and people are often concerned when they see this behavior. Watch the scorpion and it'll eventually curl it's tail back up again, prolonged time with it's tail flat on the substrate or other unusual behaviors such as sluggishness or appearing disoriented is a concern.

Conclusion

Hopefully this gives you a better idea of how your scorpion will act in captivity, and give you a better idea of behaviors that are normal or a cause for concern. Being able to tell scorpion body language and figure out when they're stressed is key for troubleshooting your care to make them as comfortable as possible. This should also help reassure you if your scorpion is acting weird and you don't know why. Hope this helps!

#invertebrates #invertiblr #inverts #invert #bugblr #scorpion #scorpion behavior #morbidsadvice

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saewin · 1 year ago

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On Waves of Dæmonism and Dænominations

Every now and again I'll stumble across a conversation about daemonism and I'm left anywhere from bemused to uncomfortable, thinking "that's really not how daemonism works". Yet, I'll dig deeper and see communities of people very happily practising.

So what gives?

I've come to understand there are multiple waves of daemonism. These have developed into "daenominations" that can have mutually exclusive underlying principles. Recently I've mostly seen people advertising and discussing the third wave as though it's an evolution of previous principles, or as an umbrella to previous ideas, which set off my alarm bells.

So I want to talk about these waves and daenominations and roughly what I see defines them, with emphasis on my "own" - the second.

First wave: Canonical - "The books define it"

In the early days, the definition of a daemon was very much like that in the "His Dark Material" books. The books were referenced often and the form your daemon took in projection was often considered significant. So daemon and form, like in the books, were intrinsically linked. There was a strong spiritual element or significance for many, as in the books daemons were thought of as your soul, and to stop projecting completely was considered a significant event. Analyses were more literal in nature rather than interpreted.

Second wave: Prescriptivist - "We define it"

Around 2007-09, as more people joined the community began to move towards a more stripped down understanding of daemonism. This was a push back against the canonical "daemon as a soul" basis of the first wave. Around the same time, the philosophy of New Atheism was born as a reaction to the perceived dominance of the Christian understanding of reality. Given the strength of the parallel, it's likely this wider cultural shift influenced the second wave.

The stripped back view was thus: a daemon was an imaginary friend/mental construct and it was termed a “daemon” because it followed a particular, community-agreed set of rules, originally derived from the HDM books. The entity used part of the daemian's internal monologue, there was one entity with the title of daemon, and the daemon was a positive or at least neutral addition for the daemian in some way. This time the form the daemon took during projection officially had zero significance in deciding a settled form. Instead, the daemian could project the daemon in the settled form or however they pleased (comfort form(s), etc). The spiritual element was downplayed as an optional extra, although many daemians kept that personal significance. Crucially, the rules around the daemon's construct and how analyses were conducted were built through community consensus. As scientific observation of animal behaviour was required to build an analysis, mythics and long extinct animals were not considered viable.

At the beginning of the second wave, the books informed the acknowledged arbitrary ruleset to define an imaginary friend/mental construct as a daemon, which could be considered an orthodox stance. As the community grew and changed, so did the framework through community consensus. Ideas diverging from the books came in, e.g. multiple daemons, because daemians found a use case, and the community took a more modernist approach by challenging the book-derived framework, whilst still relying on consensus.

When the English-speaking daemian community became diffuse across social media, practitioners for whom the second wave structured approach and its specific definitions were not a perfect fit formed their own communities or practiced alone. This signals the start of the third wave.

Third wave: Post-modernist - "I define it"

Given that a daemon is derived from the mind, what is to say that any rules around the construction of a daemon were required, other than the daemian's say-so? At this point overlaps between different kinds of entities became more frequent - headmates, soulbonds and spirits of all kinds may at times have been referred to as daemons by the daemian as they "took on the role" of a daemon. Daemians may have had more than one daemon fulfilling the role, and systems became more prevalent in the community, who might have had one daemon for the system, or daemons for specific system members.

The more restrictive community definition of a daemon, which could be considered gatekeeping, fuzzed out to be replaced by a collection of ideas that daemians can pick and choose from depending on their needs. Generally however a daemon is considered a helpful voice to the daemian.

Multiple form finding systems now exist together, including the addition of Pullman and Symbolic, the latter in particular allowing space for any form with only a cultural presence (mythics and the long extinct) unlike Analytic. Further, some daemians opt to only declare a form of personal significance with no community consensus on meaning. While daemonism had been linked to pluralism before, often as a median concept, this is where the idea of "plural by default" starts.

This is all very rough, and I'm talking about a changing landscape with a heavy sense of irony. The second wave kicked off around the time I joined and I'm sure wound people up just the same, yet I know people who follow the first wave view still practice. For full transparency, I'm not active in the community these days but keep up with the main beats through friends. Even so, I do still consider myself a daemian and have great affection for the practice.

From this I'd consider myself an orthodox prescriptivist. I'd love to see expansions on these waves or other thoughts.

#daemonism #daemon #writing some thoughts up for someone

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my-autism-adhd-blog · 1 year ago

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Hello everyone,

I found an interesting about neurodiversity and queerness. According to this article:

Research doesn’t yet offer a clear reason to explain the overlap between the communities. One theory suggests that the greater gender-and-sexual diversity within the neurodivergent population results from challenges in navigating sociocultural norms around mainstream notions of gender and sexuality — like gender roles and expressions, and sexual orientation and attraction. That is, due to the differences in the way a neurodivergent person experiences life, they may struggle to conform to these norms, inspiring them to explore beyond traditions and express themselves in newer ways that resonate with them.

“You could then understand the co-occurrence as perhaps a more honest expression of underlying experiences,” John Strang, director of the Gender and Autism Program at the Children’s National Hospital in Washington, D.C., told Spectrum News.

Further, the struggle to fit within a society that idealizes neurotypical brains can also lead neurodivergent individuals to question a multitude of social norms — including those around gender and sexuality. In other words, the alienation they experience — be it due to autism, a learning disability, a personality disorder, or even bipolar disorder — can cause them to feel like an “outsider” at all times, inducing a greater openness to alternate ideas of gender and sexuality. Upon digging further, they may end up with the conclusion that they are indeed cis-gendered and heterosexual. But in the event that they aren’t, the exploration prompted by the neurological differences that denied one the sense of belonging can inadvertently become the key to discovering their gender and sexuality.

Many neurodivergent people can also feel both sensory and emotional stimuli — including attraction and arousal — more deeply, which can also drive them to explore their sexuality more. While that doesn’t automatically mean they’d turn out to be queer, it does point to them being more open to embracing a queer identity, if their exploration does lead them to that conclusion.

The link to the full article will be below if anyone wants to read more.

Neurodiversity

#neurodivergence #actually neurodivergent #neurodiversity and queerness #lgbtq #feel free to share/reblog #tw bright colors #tw eye strain

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moonlightsapphic · 2 years ago

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Y'all, I find the reception of XO, Kitty so dissapointing.

TL; DR: The underlying homophobia/biphobia/lesbophobia/misoginy towards Yuri as potential and viable endgame which I don't think would have happened if she were yet another hot guy.

The straight-baiting marketing of this show was absolutely genius and I loved that Jenny Han, who writes the straightest central romances to ever romance (To All the Boys I've Loved Before, The Summer I Turned Pretty), actually initiated a series with such visibly queer storylines and then literally jumped into this sort-of-interracial, sapphic romance centered around a bi+ character. I could see Han trying to be more inclusive in her past on-screen works, but this was incredible.

No you don't understand. There was this point midway through the show where I thought I was in a fever dream and watching wishful fanmade content because I couldn't believe an IRL Netflix show could actually give us this. My mind was blown.

So you'll understand that I was fully bamboozled to see that social media is swamped with Min-ho fangirls pretending like Yuri doesn't even exist. I love Min-ho too, but am I the only one who also saw so many signs that point to a future Yuri x Kitty?

First, for the narrative satisfaction of their moms being best friends in the past!

... and to complete Kitty's coming of age! Kitty, growing up in the cisheteronormative Song-Covey household, made the oversight of initially operating under the assumption that she exclusively likes boys and that she has mastered the art of relationships. That's already been debunked partway by her breakup with her first boyfriend who was supposed to be endgame, and is only going to be sealed further if she ends up with a girl in a long-term relationship. (And no, of course she doesn't have to "end up" with a girl for her queer identity to be valid, but I think it just makes the most narrative sense to have that unfold in the story as her worldview alters.)

Here I present to you: my pet peeves in the XO, Kitty fandom

hyping up parallels between Peter x LJ and Minho x Kitty scenes claiming that this means Minho x Kitty may be endgame. They literally have to reach and dig for those because the most parallels are between Peter x LJ and Yuri x Kitty, right from the scene that they bumped into each other! Kitty has also shown zero romantic interest in Minho so far, as opposed to her very keen interest in Yuri.

People finally addressing the elephant in the room like "Ugh, Yuri is probably going to be endgame. 🙄 I want Minho instead!!" like it's such a disappointing or borderline gross outcome. Yuri is a much more intense enemies-to-lovers character than Minho. She is beautiful, kind, and fun with a little bit of bite, everything that Minho is plus Kitty is falling for her hard.

Being real here—If you think Yuri is a boring love interest or kind of a b*tch while Minho is simply a fun old enemies-to-lovers character, I am begging you to check your biases. You, a straight woman, may only see hostile fictional women as competitiion and hostile fictional men as ... well, kinda hot. However, Kitty is bi+ and she could see them both as viable romantic interests, equally. Yes, Yuri has done more malicious things than Minho, but then again she has had a harder time this academic year than Minho. You are obviously still allowed to like Minho better, as long as you're not dismissing the struggles of and flattening a strong female character. Misoginy and homophobia make an ugly combo, y'all. Trust me, you don't want any part in that.

(Additional unpopular opinion: I'm going to get crucified for this but I genuinely think Kitty is too boring for Minho in the same way that Dae was too boring for Kitty. He seems to be into her only from the Halo Effect. Minho is my child and I squeal whenever he's on screen and I hope to see him finding someone actually fun!)

Saying that Kitty’s crush on Yuri was just a token plot point with no real basis or depth. While there is some unrealistic family drama in the show, it's all still credible. Fiction is supposed to bring in imaginative elements and try to keep things grounded. Regardless, I'm never going to be the person who says that a wild and shocking bi- or gay-awakening is unrealistic. As a queer person, let me tell you that it is just as wild and confusinh for us IRL.

Besides, many cishet people actually do not care if (or is hateful when) the MC is bi, that I doubt how much it “helps” with marketing. (That's why queerbaiting exists, folks.) Also, have you seen Kitty in TATBILB? That's a bi preteen right there if I've ever seen one.

"Stop trying to invalidate other people's ships!" I will say this once: I don't care if you ship Kitty with Min-ho, or Dae, or anyone else that's not Yuri. I DON'T CARE! Frankly, good for you because straight ships have better luck out there anyway, ya know? I am simply begging you to not reduce a queer person's nuanced concerns about dismissal of sapphic fictional characters to petty fandom arguments. Read the room, guys. Please.

This is such a crucial show to many of us. I just want y'all to understand that this is just a little bigger than your celebrity crush on a hot guy whose character you're rooting for. We never, ever get contemporary slice-of-life romcom sapphic rep (and Netflix is notorious for cancelling sapphic shows, too). Please don't be dismissive of a perfectly good possible ending! We want to give Netflix every reason to renew this show, and give Han every reason to allow Kitty to flourish just the way she plans to! (This is me begging y'all to not influence the writers into swerving last-minute towards a sloppy Minho endgame, though I do trust her better than that.)

I hope that Netflix renews the show, even if it's through the excitement of straight people in denial LMAO. And then I hope it treats us with a glorious sapphic ending.*

*(Aaaand I can already imagine the cishet women in the audience complaining online about what a terrible person Kitty is for leading Min-ho on and then dumping him, and how she and Yuri are both awful and totally deserve each other. Music to my ears.)

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delopsia · 10 months ago

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hi del! happy early birthday!! here’s my submission for your birthday bouquet 🩷

pigeon post- rhett & bob, title: NFWMB, flower: carnation (my favourite flower!)

I don't know where I wound up going with this one 😭 Edit: I entirely forgot to include Bob in this?? 😅 he's here now It also took me...so long to realize that NFWMB stands for 'Nothing Fucks With My Baby' Join my Birthday Bouquet Event! 💐

It's a funny thing, really.

The way that the ghosts from one's past can emerge from the stadium shadows. Unintentionally crossing paths with others who bear similar stories, hopelessly seeking to reclaim their places in your lives, regardless of whether you remember each other's names. The kind of oversized nuisance that digs beneath your skin like a rusty nail, with their spotless boots and perfect, glittering smiles, dissolving into a sea of giggles at the sight of your husbands.

It's an irritant hammered home by heavy gazes and jingling spurs, so lost in the idea of undressing you that you can almost feel the clothes being pulled from your body. The only thing that keeps them at bay is the arms that have long since circled around your waist, built of steel and grit, still trembling from another winning ride.

Rhett's warm nose bumps into the juncture of your neck, unshaven jaw tickling your exposed collar. "Y' alright?"

At your side, your limp hand twitches. Drops of crimson trickle from the split in your knuckles. Raining from your fingertips, splattering on the concrete and the side of Rhett's boot.

"You should be asking the other guy that," you mutter after a moment. Your eyes are still fixated on the ambulance medic, fussing over the shattered nose of a motherfucker who should have known better.

His chuckle rumbles through the length of your spine. "I don't give a fuck about 'em."

A hand appears on your back, gliding up and down in dizzyingly slow strokes as if you're a wild horse that can bolt at any time. In some senses, perhaps you are.

"Let me see," Bobby's speaking quietly, already beginning to glide his way down your shaking arm. But as Rhett steps back, the mere inches of distance between your bodies has you wondering if another face from the past is going to try their luck.

But it's only Bobby who reaches for your swollen hand, quickly followed by Rhett. Their palms practically wrap around you entirely; Rhett's touch is rough and calloused from a lifetime of manual labor, whereas Bobby's is a little softer. Not quite silky smooth, but not as rugged as your cowboy is.

"'s not broken," Rhett observes aloud, twisting it back and forth as if to root out any underlying issue. Nothing new arises. "Jus' gonna hurt like a bitch in the mornin'."

Bobby doesn't seem all that convinced, carefully tracing over the bones in search of any abnormality that wasn't there before. But, like Rhett, he doesn't find anything.

A giggle erupts behind you. Shrill. Dancing across your last remaining nerve, hanging on by a thread.

Bob's eyes snap up. Ice gold gaze blistering into someone standing behind you. But when you turn to get a look, you find nothing; not a soul is looking your way.

"C'mon," Rhett's motioning with his head toward the parking lot, already beginning to move. "I know a place where no one's gonna bother us."

Nobody in this damn town understands that being a trio does not equate to an invitation for someone new to join, but you'll be happy to remind them.

...if Bobby doesn't get to them first.

#rhett abbott #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott #delgato's asks #bro-ooke #Delopsia's Birthday Bouquet #tw blood

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nextonmy-tbr · 10 days ago

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Book review: Hell Bent

Author: Leigh Bardugo Genre: Dark Fantasy

After being determined and fighting her way to stay at Yale, there is another thing that Alex Stern is hell bent at – to save Darlington. From hell. Seems like a plan, right? Only there’s a catch, or a few of them. Alex and Dawes are banned from saving Darlington by the Lethe House, they have to go to literal hell and get him back, they need more people to be able to enter hell, they don’t know how to enter hell. If that wasn’t enough there are murders of the faculty members which seems very related to the current tasks they have at hand. Will Alex be able to survive Yale and save the Gentlemen of the Lethe? Or she will have to give up on either of the one? Will Darlington forgive her when he is back? Read the book to find out…

My thoughts:

Before I could end the first book, I immediately ordered this one, because I knew there is no way I will be able to wait to read the next one. This book, this story, the characters… they are everything to me. If I could just travel in the future and read the next book, I swear I would do it. Honestly, I feel this book needs more hype. Like Shadow and Bone kind of hype. I need more people to talk about this one man…

Plot:

“We’re coming for you, Darlington”

In the last book, we witnessed Alex almost dying in order to save her future at the Yale and Lethe House. However, in this one we see her being obsessed with getting Darlington back, at any cost. Even her future at the Lethe House. Which honestly, surprised me, coz boy, did she not just claw her way in. Although it seems simple to get Darlington back, but there are so many things that are happening that it seems crazy. I think this series like the Crows is following the trope of found family as could see that happening. With the power dynamics at the Yale societies and Lethe being at play, we also see Alex struggling under the burden of her own secrets. We also dig deeper into the past of Alex and Darlington and how that has shaped them right now. The book like it promises is filled with lot of magic, murder, power dynamics and pure trauma.

Characters:

“This is my home, and nothing will take it from me.”

Alex continues to be awesome in this book and it shows. One of the most remarkable qualities in Alex that I noticed is her loyalty to her people, which I can’t emphasize enough how much I admire it in her. This book you will notice her unwavering efforts in getting Darlington back, knowing it will cost her the future. It is clearly visible how hard this is on her but she will do that for him. I mean at this point, if she doesn’t realize how much she likes this guy, I don’t know what will. This book you will also notice her make more friends apart from her Yale group i.e. Dawes and Turner. There is still a lot of traumas that Alex has not processed, which I look forward to in the next one. Also, we will see Alex understand more about being a wheelwalker and how it impacts her powers. I think with her powers, we are just getting started.

“Galaxy Stern, I have been crying out to you from the start”

Darlington…the man that you are. I want to know is there anyone who doesn’t like him? I genuinely think that is not possible. One thing that I have always loved about Leigh’s man in the books are that they are pure simps. And boy this one is surely one of top ones, somewhere near to Kaz and Nikolai. One of the concepts that has been teased a lot in this book, is that how monstrous the Gentleman of the Lethe can be. Though we see the hint of it from the conversations between the Grays, how he becomes in hell, I hope more of this will be explored in the next book. What I like about Darlington is that with every grey character we see how they are good people who became bad with circumstances and motives, here we see him who has hints of darkness or maybe even more who chooses to hide it under the cover of his good and pure side, not coz of any underlying bad intentions but just because he wants to be good. As simple as that. It will be interesting to see how simple it will be for him in the future.

In this one, we will more of Dawes being badass, there is more of Turner being a good friend to Alex, and there lot more creatures hinted at which might get explored more eventually.

If you are in a ride to witness all the morally grey characters, come together and find a family, a slow burn romance, monsters, beast, magic, politics, and everything in between then you are in for a hell of a ride. Let me know what are your views on this book and if you have any books in store for me to read or write further reviews on.

#booklr #book review #leigh bardugo #alex stern #darlington #darlingstern #dark fantasy #hell bent #ninth house

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ryverbind · 1 year ago

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Faceless Fixation {Sal Fisher}: Emo Buff Daddy [15]

TW::: smut, mention of self harm

And quick A/N: i know a couple people were upset with me for not using the keep reading option-- i'm very sorry but i'm still new to tumblr so i didn't quite understand how it worked! i've added this feature to all of my chapters so anyone can skip past it if they want. i hope it's better now-- happy reading!! <33

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"I don't see why you're still standing."

Sal's dark tone and breathless voice catches me off guard. What's that supposed to mean? My gaze snaps up to his and our eyes meet. His are slightly narrowed as though his brows are furrowed behind his prosthetic.

His hand suddenly wraps around me and presses into the small of my back, his nails digging into my too-warm flesh. The stinging sensation pushes me over the edge and I suck in a breath, still looking up at him inquisitively. What does he want me to do if not stand?

His free, gloved hand reaches up and aggressively latches onto my jaw, setting my face right before his. The rough surface of his prosthetic nose scratches against my mask as his eyes glare into mine. I feel exposed to him, all my thoughts, feelings, as well as my entire body completely bare to him.

The edges of his fingerless gloves brush over my chin, making me gulp down any visceral reaction I may have because of the light touch. It's teasing, almost. A soft, barely noticeable touch makes me feel more than a complete, full enveloping touch does. Because no matter how ridiculous it may seem to someone else, a fleeting touch has so much withheld intention. There's a difference between wanting to do something and actually doing it-- the prospect of someone holding back makes every nerve-ending in my body light up. I could power an entire city right now.

Sal's head tilts slightly to the left. His fingertips dig into the hollows of my cheeks, his breaths are a bit ragged and muffled, his knee is propped between both of legs with reason. His combat pants rub against the inside of my bare thighs, creating a friction so delicious that it's nearly painful. He moved us into a compromising position before I could even really notice.

"I said," he starts, voice low. So low that it carries off into the air around us to the point that I almost miss it. "I don't see why you're still standing."

I blink up at him and he squeezes my face. So I suck in a breath that's been deprived of me for the past couple minutes and lick my dry lips. He makes me nervous in an exhilarating way. "What do you--" my voice cracks and I quietly clear my throat, casting my gaze off to the side. "What do you want me.. to do?"

As if my head began to lean away from him, he readjusts his grip on my jaw, gripping it so tightly that I'm forced to look into his eyes yet again. His ocean eyes that seem more like the depths of a dark sea rather than clear water once you're near the surface, just about to breach.

"If your knees aren't bruised by the end of the night, then there's a problem," he rasps out, dark eyes capturing the image of my parted lips before our gazes clash again. "So bruise them."

I swallow thickly over the sudden shiver that passes through my body. Sal notices my light tremor, his fingers loosening around my face.

We stare at each other for a moment or two longer as I replay his words in my head. He obviously wants his dick in my mouth, and honoring up on our bickering that I thought was merely some harsh jokes a few weeks ago feels a bit horrifying now that the opportunity is being presented to me. Obviously I want to do it, but if it's anything like what I felt last night, I'm not sure I'll be able to do such a great job at taking all of him into my mouth. There's no way.

"Hey." Sal regains my attention again, his eyes blazing as he stares at me. His voice is just as serious as it's been since we ran into each other, but the underlying lust is filtered out for a moment. "Are you uncomfortable?"

I gulp, shaking my head vigorously to let him know that I'm fine. I guess my silence made him feel the need to make sure that I'm cool to do this. That's... uncommonly kind of him.

Sal relaxes a bit, his shoulders dropping as the tenseness falls away and he moves his fingers from my jaw. To replace that bit of control, he slaps my cheek gently and holds my chin up with two fingers, tilting my face toward him. "Good," he breathes. "Then don't fucking make me say it again."

My lips are uncomfortably dry, so I lick them again and nod once at him. I swallow down all of the surface level fears I've developed in the past second and grab onto the waistband of his cargo pants. I'm so glad the photographers put him in this getup because I've never seen him look more drool-worthy in all my life.

"You--" I say quietly, looking down the empty hallway that we're occupying. I slowly pull my fingers from the fabric of his pants and crack my knuckles. "Here?" I ask.

"C'mon," he taunts suddenly, taking a little step closer to me. His combat boots scuff the cement ground at our feet and his eyes squint. "You always have so much to say. Where's that dirty mouth of yours now? You nervous over the possibility of getting caught?"

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out as a rush of heat filters through my veins. He's not wrong. I'd hate to get caught sucking him off in a fucking hallway. I can't be vulnerable like that.

But Sal's on a warpath today and he isn't showing me any mercy. But then again, when does he ever show me any mercy?

His eyes drop to my mouth again and he snickers beneath his breath. "That doesn't turn you on? The prospect of someone finding us while I'm buried in your throat? You're such a little slut, I'm shocked you're not into that."

There he goes again with the degrading. His voice alone is enough to sway me, but his words are manipulative too and suddenly his desires are my own. Maybe the looming threat of someone walking in on such an obscene act is pretty invigorating...

Sal's calloused thumb rubs along my wet bottom lip, pulling it forward. "So soft," he mumbles, eyes never straying from where his fingers touch. His hand wraps further around my back just as he dips his thumb between the seam of my lips, the digit barely brushing over the surface of my teeth. "They'd look so pretty wrapped around my cock."

My breath catches in my throat and I effectively pause everything-- my thoughts, my breathing, my movements, even my fucking heartbeat. Sal seems to notice the moment I've reconsidered his offer. Just as he releases my lip, I drop the tactical gear in my hands, grab his biceps, and reverse our positions. I back him up with shaky breaths until he's pressed against the wall, then I drop to my knees right in front of him.

"Good girl," he purrs, praising me prettily as he drags his fingers over the underside of my jaw. I waste no time after his words shoot through me. I trail my hands up the sides of his legs and keep eye contact with him the entire time before finding my way into the top of his pants again.

I hook my fingers into the fabric and give a light yank, watching as Sal's pale hips come into view. His boxers are just barely visible, hardly hanging onto him at all. I brush my thumb over his warm skin and swipe my tongue over my bottom lip when Sal sucks in a sharp breath. He's sensitive.

I pull his pants down the rest of the way, which didn't take much effort on my part since they're pretty loose. They pool around his ankles and then the only thing in my way is the thin fabric of his underwear. Even with that covering him, his member is incredibly apparent and there isn't a single thing that could hide him right now.

And then there's that tattoo on his hip. Earlier today, mere hours ago, I still couldn't make out what it was. I have so many opportunities now, I can rip his underwear off him and finally answer the question I've had since Larry sent me that damned picture of him over Discord.

His shirt is covering the very top of the tattoo from me, so I'm only able to see a set of vertical curves and lines along his skin that never connect at the top that's hidden from my view.

My fingers carefully trail along his bare leg until I reach his boxers, crossing over to the front to palm his thick cock through the fabric all while looking into his mesmerizing blue eyes.

Sal's breath stutters as I rub my hand along his length, teasing him until he cracks-- hopefully. He was rough with me last night, deliciously so, and that's the type of attitude I'm looking for again.

I squeeze his dick lightly, not enough to set this scene in motion, but it's enough for him to shut his eyes in ecstasy. "Vi," he says darkly, a grating edge to his voice. "If you don't start choking on my dick in the next second, I'm going to do it for you."

My hand tightens around his member again and I tilt my head up at him. His eyes are still closed. "I don't think you'd be able to choke on your own dick, Sal," I say softly, sensually.

His head snaps down to look at me, eyes blazing with lustful rage. Within the next second, as promised, he's shoved his boxers down with one hand and buried his hand into my hair. His fingers wrap around the strands and he yanks my head back roughly so I'm looking up at him. He doesn't give me a single chance to finally find out what kind of tattoo he has on his hip. "It's about damn time I shut that dirty mouth of yours, you fucking brat," he barks out, nearly sneering down at me with that impressive fire in his eyes and the tantalizing grip he has on my hair. Then he pulls me back a bit more, tilts my head down just a tad, and taps my chin. "Open the fuck up. Now."

My mouth willingly falls open and before I can fully prepare myself, Sal drags my face forward and bucks his hips up at the same exact time. His dick slams into the back of my throat and my immediate reaction is to choke.

Thankfully, he doesn't move. He sits there for a second while I gather my wits and adjust to something so large intruding my airways. But I quickly close my lips around his length and blink over the tears that brim my eyes.

"You're going to cry?" He says through pants, letting out a single laugh. "Pathetic. You can do better than that."

With his cock filling up every inch of my open mouth, I can't make a sound no matter how badly I want to. I simply blink up at him quickly, relishing in the way he gazes down at me with glazed eyes that drink me in so devilishly.

So instead, I moan around his length and shut my eyes again, hollowing my cheeks as I suck on the part of him that's in my mouth. I lift a hand and wrap it around the rest of his cock, giving it a gentle squeeze. My other hand moves to his bare thigh. As soon as my fingers brush his skin though, Sal uses his free hand to slap mine away. "No touching unless it's my dick. Got it?" he breathes, fingers tight around my wrist.

Fuck it, whatever. If that's what he's into then fine. It's not going to stop me.

Sal drags his fingers through the strands of my hair until he reaches the end, then he wraps it around his hand, holding on close to my scalp. He pulls my head back then pushes his dick further into my mouth.

And then he's thrusting into my throat, pushing my head forward to meet him halfway. I'm just the added pleasure-- he has no patience, doesn't want me to help him at all.

I do everything I can to use my tongue, licking under his shaft and using my leftover saliva to pump the rest of him with my hand. But Sal fucks my mouth rough and quick-- so much so that this is simply so he can cum as fast as possible. It's not about a slow build up, it's about using me to chase his high.

Too bad he chose the wrong bitch for the job.

Tears threaten to stream down my cheeks as his head repeatedly slams into the back of my throat. I choke on his cock multiple times and it has to be music to his ears. Sal's a whimpering, groaning mess above me, bucking his hips into my face and tilting his head to the ceiling.

Sal's hand is still clutching my wrist, but I want to drag this out for as long as I can, especially if he orgasms quickly like he did last night.

I tug on my wrist a bit and Sal pauses his rough thrusts, taking a breath. "What?" he asks, shockingly a tad concerned. "Are you okay? We can stop?"

He's let go of my arm and that's what I wanted. Instead of answering, I glance up at him and pull back so just the tip of his dick is between my lips. Then I suck gently, swirling my tongue around him to lick up all the pre-cum that had leaked. Sal shivers, a deep groan following the action. The sound forces my thighs together either to hide the evidence of my own arousal or to provide some relief for myself-- I'm not sure which one.

I wrap my hand around his velvety cock to give him a tight, slow pump, all while looking into his eyes. I want to watch him squirm.

He lets out a quivering breath when I separate my mouth from him with a reverberating pop that makes him flinch. He moans quietly and my eyes catch the way his hand squeezes into a fist then slowly stretches out beside him. That's hot. Mr. Darcy who?

I use my hand as leverage, placing my tongue at the base of his cock to slowly lick a stripe all the way back to his tip. Then I suck the head of his dick into my mouth again, my tongue wrapping around his throbbing member and eliciting a pretty little whimper from him.

Finally, I start bobbing my head along his length, sucking and licking up as much of him as I can. The salty taste of him coats my tongue deliciously, making me eager for the moment he finally climaxes.

Sal lets out a deep, trembling breath as I repeatedly take him in and out of my mouth, going as deep as I possibly can to force him into making some kind of sound again. He pushes a hand through my hair, gently massaging my scalp with his long fingers. It's almost intimate, but I know better. This is praise for doing well.

"You can take more than that, Vi," he says, voice audibly shaking. "Keep going, pretty girl. Don't make me take the reins again."

I know he'd love to take control and shove his dick down my throat again, but hopefully I can get him to cum on my own. I just know he'd cry for me. I want that bad.

I pull him out of my mouth and use my hand to pump the entirety of his pretty, soaked cock that I'm finally able to lay my eyes. He's definitely a good size. Gorgeous, pink, and so incredibly sensitive.

And there's the tattoo. My eyes were pinned to it as soon as I had a moment to admire his cock. It's faded, something he must have gotten years ago compared to the newer, darker marks on his arm and neck.

A crescent moon and stars around it. Fitting for him, actually. I find myself admiring it while I take my time to pleasure him. It's detailed, pretty. If there were any perfect words to describe him, this perfect little tattoo says it all. Dark, night, a little bright, definitely a dreamer. A hoper. It's him, more personal to him than any of his other tattoos.

I'm brought back to reality, heart thumping affectionately in my chest when Sal twitches in my hand. I look up at him, panting heavily since I'm finally able to get a good breath of air in. Saliva and pre-cum is smeared across my face and Sal seems drunk off of the image when he glances down at me again.

His fingers stop their gentle caress and tighten around my hair again, quickly using that grip to keep my head still as he shoves his throbbing dick back into the depths of my throat.

He doesn't say a word as he repeatedly thrusts in and out of mouth, making more tears flow down my cheeks. He doesn't have to say anything-- I took my mouth off of his cock for too long and right after he warned me. This is his nonverbal way of telling me that karma's taking control.

No matter how many attempts I make to bring him closer to climax with my tongue, by sucking every inch of him I can, it means nothing. All he cares about is making me crumble beneath him. All he craves is the sound of me gagging on him. All he wants to see is his cock filling up my mouth and the tears that have begun to paint my cheeks.

"Just like that," he moans out pathetically, beautifully. "You're doing so good." I'm hardly doing anything other than acting as his fucktoy, but if that's what he wants then I'm more than happy to oblige. Watching him fall apart, pleasure himself, and show this vulnerable side is enough to satisfy me. I don't even need to cum if it means he'll do it for both of us.

"I'm about to cum," he rasps out, still pounding into my throat roughly. I might not be able to speak after this, not with the way he's fucking my throat raw. "Swallow every drop or you'll fucking regret it--" his voice falls into a sinful whimper and he shudders, his fingers tightening impossibly around the strands of my hair.

I moan against him, squeezing my eyes shut as he picks up the pace, his dick roughly pumping into my mouth. It's brutal and I love every second. He feels good, he tastes good, he sounds good. I'm obsessed with the way he falls apart so viscerally. It's intoxicating.

For just a second, I'm thinking I might actually orgasm over the sound of his salacious moans alone. He's so vocal and so dirty about it-- how could I not? But he bursts into my mouth before I can think harder about it. The salty flavor and warmth of his cum envelops my tongue so quickly and I try to keep it all contained, but he continues thrusting into my throat. A bit of the liquid seeps from the corners of my lips, dripping onto the floor.

I don't care and Sal doesn't either for the moment. He simply whimpers between breaths above me, sucking in as much air as he can before he looks down at me and begins to pull his cock from my mouth.

I suck on him to lick up whatever cum I can. He jolts at the feeling of my tongue on him, hissing as his head tilts down to look at me.

I run my free hands up his thighs, absolutely reveling in his post-orgasm bliss with him. He's so pretty-- takes his hand out of my hair to run it through his, pulling strands away from his sweaty forehead. And now that the moment is over, he's not stopping me from touching him.

But as I'm feeling his skin, I notice something. A row of thin, raised lines. Not just one, multiple.

I try to rationalize it in my mind. There's no way-- but what if there was a way?

My heart thumps wildly in my chest and I flatten my palm on his thigh, rubbing my thumb gently over the protrusions. I swallow the remnants of Sal's orgasm and watch him with a renewed mind. He looks down at me and wipes his cum off of my chin, sticking his thumb into my mouth to slather the liquid onto my tongue.

He's still glowing right now-- he must not realize what I've discovered and I can't even fully wrap my head around it myself. I know what this is. How do I bring this up? I don't know if these are from two months ago or from years ago and if he's not happy... I can't just act like I haven't noticed anything.

I gulp down my nerves. It's going to be uncomfortable for both of us but I'd rather help him. I know I would have appreciated it when I was going through a tough time. Whether I hate him or not, I don't hate him enough to let him suffer alone.

"Sally," I say hoarsely, clearing my throat. "Are these..." my voice is barely audible from the way he abused the inside of my throat, but I rub my fingertips along the lines on his thighs again and Sal suddenly returns to the land of the living.

He roughly shoves my hands off of him, nearly pushing me onto my haunches. His boxers are back on before I can even regain my balance. "What?" he asks, taking a breath to recover from the marathon-like orgasm he just had. My heart thumps in my chest, an overwhelming mix of anxiety and shock taking hold of me. "I have a lot of scars, Vi. If that's going to gross you out then let's just stop this now."

My head rears back at his sneer and accusation. He's deeply offended and I can't help but feel like he's acting this way because someone's turned him away because of the scars before. That's not my intention-- I'd never do that.

"No, they don't--" I gape up at him, brows furrowing. "I'm the last person who's going to be grossed out by scars, Sal. I'm just..." I pinch my lips together as a wave of fear washes over me. He's going to think I'm insane for actually worrying over him. "Fuck, this sounds crazy," I warn. "But I'm just worried."

I watch him with wary eyes, but Sal scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Don't be worried about scars from my delinquent past with Larry. If anything, I deserved these," he grumbles, looking down and grabbing his pants. He shimmies them up his legs just before I can get a look at the scars that I felt. And I don't believe him. Those are too meticulously placed.

"Deserved? Delinquent?" I ask softly. "These are--"

"Yea. Delinquent. Larry and I hopped a barbed wire fence and my unlucky ass got caught on it. That's what those scars are. I broke laws, karma broke me. That's the circle of life." He says this all so nonchalantly, all the while swiping another drop of cum from my lips.

No one would be able to lie so efficiently. Not even I could. Something's still sketchy about this and I want to question him more. But that's invading his privacy and I can already tell that he's on edge. One wrong move-- which is the direction I'm heading in-- and he'll never open up about this regardless.

But what if he's telling the truth? Maybe I'm just bringing up past trauma. I didn't get to look at the scars on his thighs anyway.

I should keep asking anyway though. If he needs help...

I'm driving myself insane. I want to pester him, beg him to be honest with me just because I know how desperate I was at one point for help with my mental. I couldn't leave anyone to stay silent when I suspect that there's something wrong, even my enemy. It's just not--

"Now, I remember saying something about you having to regret not swallowing everything," his voice suddenly turns sinister in a very pleasurable way. He pulls me back to reality quickly, and I find my heart racing for a different reason. The truth always comes out. Obviously he wouldn't trust me enough now, but maybe he will in the future. I will find out.

For now, there's nothing more I can do. I tried.

Sal tilts his head down to the floor between us, so I follow his gaze to notice the various drops of milky white on the floor.

I gulp, swallowing the remnants of what was left in my mouth. The salty taste begins to die away-- I can hardly taste anything, in fact, as anticipation takes hold of my entire body. My mind goes blank in an instant, my worries replaced with expectations.

My eyes instinctually look back up at Sal who's already gazing at me. I'm guessing he's waiting on some kind of reaction from me.

Half of me wants to let him do whatever it is he's undoubtedly planning, but the other half of me is hyper-focused on the clothes I'm supposed to be changing into. And what I discovered just seconds ago. This doesn't feel right, not when there's so much else to focus on. But memories of last night have plagued me all day. What to do, what to do...

I really should just get dressed and start heading back to the other room. If Sal and I are away for too long, it's going to look really suspicious. And I mean, if anything, we can find another time to continue this. If he's adamant on punishing me, so to speak, he'll make time to do it. That'll give me time to figure out a plan on how to get the truth out of him too.

With that thought in mind, I grab the pile of clothes and push myself off my knees, standing to my full height. I take a breath and then a step back, all while Sal watches me closely. His eyes are so bright right now-- they look like they're glowing. The hardly contained desire swimming around in his cerulean irises does nothing to help.

I open my mouth with the intention of telling him that we'll figure something out later, but I don't even get a chance to say a syllable-- I only squeak out in surprise when Sal lunges toward me, sweeping me off my feet with no effort.

My hands automatically latch onto his shoulders once he wraps my legs around his waist with a little grunt. My eyes widen significantly when Sal turns on his heel and starts heading for the room that he just came out of. The clothes that were previously in my grasp are pressed between him and I-- they miraculously stuck around during whatever just happened.

Sal's hands grip my ass tightly, his fingertips digging into my flesh as he quickly walks us closer to the changing room. "You're lucky I don't make you lick that off the floor like a fucking dog," he bites out, a short chuckle following.

I have too many responsibilities for him to be talking like this.

My legs tighten around his waist and I squeeze my eyes shut. My lips pinch together as I try to remind myself why I can't just let him tear me apart in the room that he's carrying me into. My thoughts are clouded-- rational mind is completely missing because Sal is in tactical gear, I just sucked his dick, and he has his hands on me. How could anyone think?

Sal moves one hand to grab the heavy metal door leading to the changing room. He rips it open like it weighs nothing, but the way it scrapes across the cement floor says different. Maybe it only makes a scary sound, but it's actually pretty light? Who knows.

As soon as he crosses the threshold into the room, the door slams shut behind us. Then, Sal's unwrapping my legs from around him and dropping me to my feet. The sound of my shoes hitting the ground echoes in the room-- cement floors again.

I swallow thickly as my clothes drop to the ground. They're going to be so dirty. My hands slide from Sal's shoulders to the top of his chest due to the sudden height difference. The same goes for him; his hands move from my ass to my waist, my shirt riding up from the contact. His cool fingertips press into the skin of my hips, and he uses that as leverage to yank me even closer to him.

"You have to be quieter than you were last night, Vi," Sal breathes, leaning his head down to rest on my shoulder. His prosthetic nose runs along the length of my neck, causing shivers to erupt along my spine. As those words roll off his tongue, one of his hands crosses over to my stomach.

I have two options: get pleasure and get caught or wait it out and play it safe. Either way, I'll see to it that he makes up for this later. I have no doubt that he'll make extra sure to handle me later too.

"Wait," I say, wincing over the fact that I'm not going to go through with this. Truly, it hurts to push him away for now.

I can always count on Sal to listen to me when it comes to our situationship. He doesn't listen regarding absolutely anything else, but he at least takes this seriously.

His hands pause instantly and he pulls his head away from my neck, looking into my eyes. He's wary, concerned, alert. "What?" he asks. "We don't have to."

I lick my lips and take a deep breath. "Don't get me wrong," I tell him. "I want to, but everyone's expecting both of us to come back any minute now."

Sal looks off to the side, his hands slowly dropping from my waist. The loss of contact makes me want to whimper. There's a far-away look in his eyes as he seems to think. "Oh," he murmurs. "That's true," he whispers to himself.

I gape at him. How could he forget? He's literally clueless. I've said it once and apparently I have to fucking say it again. I place my hands on my hips and roll my eyes. "Really?" I scoff. "You forgot that you're supposed to be modeling right now? You're working for Treyarch but you let pussy blind you?"

Sal's eyes meet mine again and his eyebrows furrow, a glare taking over what little features I can see on him. "You don't have room to talk. You're not even supposed to be modeling with us so why do you have clothes?" There's that snarky, aggressive tone again.

"You never fail to prove how self-centered you are," I sigh, taking a step back and leaning down to grab my clothes from the floor. "Larry mentioned me and the photographers heard. They asked me-- well, more like told me to go change." Just thinking back on what happened a few minutes ago brings a smile to my lips and a fluttering to my heart.

Sal snorts, "Tasteless," he says in regard to the photographers choosing me. He turns away from me and moves to a corner of the room. The corner has a fancy chair with a pile of clothes on it-- if I had to guess, those clothes are for Sal. And then a vanity with a mirror and table with makeup and other essentials. Those probably all belong to Ash.

They're tasteless for choosing me when he chooses to hang around gothic beauties like the one from the bar the other night?

"Says the man with a preference for emo barbies," I murmur halfheartedly. I'm too focused on ingesting the room. My words were a mistake though-- I'd gone back to the night that woman sat with him at the bar and I let the argument get to me. I really shouldn't have said that because it shows that it bothers me. But, it doesn't actually bother me.

A wave of anxiety slams into me like twenty puppies running to a newcomer at a daycare. Fuck, he's going to attack me for that one. It's so obvious that the woman bothered me.

Sal tilts his head at my words. "Is that what you're calling yourself now?" he says and I perk up a bit. I don't know how I should react to that. He didn't realize I was talking about his lady friend, but he also just admitted that I'm part of his preference in women. "I think bratty little bitch sounds better."

I lick my lips and try to contain the smug smirk that so desperately wants to take over my face. He's so preoccupied, I doubt he even realizes what just came out of his mouth.

I glance around the room. There's not much in here-- some ugly orange rug on the floor, a black leather couch with Todd and Larry's clothes on it. Todd's clothes are neatly folded whereas Larry's are just thrown into a pile-- that's how I was able to distinguish who's were for who.

Then there's a little folding screen. Ash's clothes are hanging over the edges. Besides that, there's a mini fridge in the corner adjacent to Sal. That's pretty much it.

"I wouldn't have to be a bitch so often if you weren't such a dick," I finally respond to his words after letting them percolate in the air for a short while. "Fix your attitude and then I'll fix mine."

Sal glances over his shoulder, black-lined eyes meeting mine. "Fix yours first and then we can talk," he says disinterestedly.

I shake my head. "Guess we'll never agree then."

I walk over to the folding screen and step behind it, laying my clothes on a little stool that the photographers were gracious enough to place back here. I start pulling my shoes off with a little grunt, moving onto my socks afterward.

Arguing with Sal comes so naturally now. It's mildly aggravating, but it isn't making me want to retrieve heads on pikes like it usually does. Maybe it's because we're both distracted right now.

"You're only well-behaved when you're being a whore," Sal says, and I look up because his voice is a lot closer to me now than it was before. And now, his slightly monotone voice is replaced with a nagging, agitated tone.

My head snaps up as I'm shimmying my skirt down my thighs and I make unexpected eye contact with Sal who's standing right in front of the folding screen.

I pause my movements, heat enveloping my cheeks at the same moment that Sal realizes I'm almost half naked. His eyes latch onto my thighs and then he takes a step back, then another until he can't peek over the top of the screen anymore.

I release a sigh of relief. "Do you watch all your women change or something?" I grunt out, watching him with a raised eyebrow-- not like he can see it. I know it doesn't really matter-- he's seen a lot of me so far. This is innocent compared to what he saw last night, but it still feels awkward and it seems he feels the same way.

"I didn't mean to," he snaps, crossing his arms over the armor plate on his chest. "I actually had pure intentions for fucking once. Don't make me out to be the bad guy."

"Funny," I respond, pulling my shirt over my head. "You always play the villain so I never expect anything else from you."

"Wow," he sarcastically says. "High praise. Considering me a villain is the nicest thing you've done for me."

I glance up at him while pulling on black cargo pants. He looks so proud and smug. What an ass. "It wasn't a compliment," I grit out.

"And that's exactly why I took it as a compliment. It pissed you off."

I shake my head, roll my eyes, and go back to changing. The entire reason his fingers aren't in me right now is because we have somewhere to be, so I don't understand why the hell he's sticking around and pestering me.

Then something slaps me in the face. Well, my mask.

I blink, shocked at the audacity of Sal to throw something at me, but when I look down to where the unknown object dropped, I see a little rectangular piece of foil. I tilt my head, wondering if I'm seeing right.

I lean down and grab it. Yea, this is gum.

I stand up again and eye Sal curiously, warily. Did he poison this?

Sal must see the contemplative look in my eyes because he scoffs in disbelief. "It's just fucking gum, dick breath. I'm doing you a favor."

I cringe at what he just said. "Oh my fucking--" I take a deep breath and close my eyes. "Get out of here, Fisher. There is absolutely no reason for you to be hanging around with me. I literally cannot stand you." The more I think about what just happened, the words that came out of my mouth, the more I want to jump over this folding screen and choke him out.

Sal cackles evilly, backing over to the metal door with his hands in his pockets. "You're just upset because I'm right, like I always am."

"Fuck off, asshat," I fire back. It's a weak comeback but it's all I've got. Of course this would happen after I thought about how mild our argument was earlier.

Sal's laughs die off when he opens the door, but then he calls me. "Vi," he says and I hesitate to look up. But when I meet his bright, cerulean eyes, I see determination. "We'll continue where we left off later. Okay?"

I watch him. Those are good words. Those are expectations. So I nod gently. "Okay."

And then he's gone. Completely disappeared from my view in the blink of an eye.

Every inch of malice and aggravation I felt just seconds ago melts away like candle wax. It'll reform all over again later, but for now, it's just replaced by butterflies making my stomach turn excitedly. So there's something for me to look forward to later. Absolutely wonderful.

I pull off my shirt and replace it with the long sleeved grey one that I was given. It's a little big on me, but no one has my body proportions either so I expect as much. My chest plate is adjustable, which helps tremendously. It makes the loose shirt stick to me like glue and because of that, it's hardly noticeable that the clothing isn't even my size. Said chest plate is much like Larry's-- camo and cargo. If anything, it's more like an armored vest with gun magazines and extra storage.

I secure it over my arms and to my chest then move on to the belt that holds a couple holsters for what I presume will be prop guns that I get later.

All that's left is for me to tug on the tan combat boots, which I lace up fairly quickly, and from there I'm home free. The issue now is walking up to my friends like I didn't just have their friend's dick I'm my mouth. I have to face Larry and pretend that I didn't suck the soul out of his step-brother's cock.

Simple. Easy job.

I take a breath and watch the door, begrudgingly unwrapping the spearmint gum that Sal was oh, so generous enough to give me. I want to be mad at him— I am mad— but he did help me out, even if it was only because he didn't want everyone else to smell the clear evidence of whatever happened in the hallway.

My feet trudge toward the big metal door while I chew on the stupid fucking gum. This couldn't be any worse... but no regrets.

My hand fits around the handle easily, but when I push it down to open the door, a little tug does absolutely nothing. I pause and stare at the door, bewildered. Sal threw this thing open earlier? One-handed? No way.

I give another tug, this one a bit more forceful. The door squeaks on its hinges, slowly moving to follow my weight. It's not extremely heavy, but I have to put some weight behind it and physically walk with the door. Am I tripping or am I just pitifully weak? Both?

I'm finally able to get the door open enough to squeeze my body through. Even then, the door gives me a little shove in the right direction, hitting me as it slams shut before I can move out of the threshold. My glare pierces through the inanimate metal while I rub my abused back. I did not ask to be the target of everyone's hostility today.

The hallway isn't nearly as eerie to me now as it was a few minutes ago. I walk through it quickly, the buzzing lights on my mental back-burner once I reach the door that separates me from reality.

I purse my lips, blowing out a sigh. Ash, Larry, Todd, and Sally Face Fisher are on the other side of this door. I am not going to fuck up. I am going to be brave. And I'm not sure why I'm so nervous— maybe it's because any one of them could have very easily walked in on Sal filling up my throat like it was a common occurrence. Yea, probably that. But, we didn't get caught, so there's really nothing for me to worry about.

I guess my fantastic, trauma-induced ability to lie is a plus here. Not like it's fed me all too well in the past. Seriously, I'm playing three different people right now and all it's doing is tangling me up in a sick mess that I created. There's Vi, who no one knows, there's y/n who everyone loves— except Sally-- and then there's Lexi who just so happens to be the object of Sal's affection.

Things literally couldn't my be any worse. But damn if I do, damn if I don't. I'll lie my ass off when I leave this hallway if I have to.

With my little pep talk finished, I pull this much lighter door at the opposite end of the hallway open and cast my gaze upon the darkened room. The Faces are perched in front of a large, stretched out tapestry being used as a background. It's this dusty looking city scene from what I can tell. And my friends are just milling about, talking with each other. Well, most of them. Todd is in the corner stuffing his fishing hat under a pile of prop rubble. I guess the photographers tried to make him keep it.

I amble toward them, a little unsure of how to address anyone after what I just did. I actually got to sleep on the knowledge of Sal and I last night, but now I have no time to recover.

Relax, y/n. Everything's fine. No one's going to suspect a thing.

Upon finally reaching my friends, Larry's the first to acknowledge me. His eyes glance over me appreciatively and he nods his head, furrowing his brows as a little smirk pulls at his full lips. "You look delicious. But you always do," he chuckles. Then he walks over and claps a hand onto my back. "So what took you so long, Vivi? Found some good dick to munch on?"

There's no way to describe the way my stomach suddenly drops out of my ass. I've seen this scene so many times. It's like when Jim gets caught flirting with Pam in The Office— that initial reaction of fucking book-it or use the worst excuse known to man while awkwardly looking around.

So I intellectually hit my friend with, "Yea. Why else would I be chewing gum?"

I make a face akin to the expression that anyone would pull after sucking a lemon or taking a shot of tequila. I genuinely want to disappear. This is going terribly.

Even Todd turns his head toward Larry and I, raising an eyebrow in my direction. Ash and Sal are just out of my direct line of sight and they can fucking stay there. If I meet any more judgemental gazes, I'll probably vomit.

But Larry's a giggly mess, something I didn't take note of because I'd panicked. His hand is squeezing my shoulder while he bends over and wipes a fake tear from his eyes. "See?" He says, giving me a wide, gap-toothed grin. Cutie. "You get it. That's humor, baby!"

I giggle nervously, slowly letting go of the nauseating bout of anxiety that just swam through me. "Mhm," I hum. "Don't worry, Lar. I'll always take good care of your jokes." I cannot form good, coherent responses for the life of me right now.

Larry can't answer me in time because there's suddenly a huge prop gun shoved into his arms. I step away from him, baffled when the weapon clatters loudly in his unprepared hands. It's a shock to my system and the same goes for Larry who juggles the hunk of— metal? plastic?— with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

"This shit is heavy," he gasps out, finally getting a good hold of it. "These— these aren't real, right?" He asks, looking up at the photographer who's currently holding out a big Resident Evil-esque gun toward me. Assault rifle, maybe? I know nothing other than Leon Kennedy when it comes to those games.

I take the weapon carefully after Larry's nervous remark. He's not kidding— it's heavy as hell, definitely metal. They wouldn't give us actual weapons right? There's a serious issue going on in the world with these things and the last thing I want to do is hold a real one.

I look up to the photographer, my gaze questioning, hoping to get an explanation for Larry's question.

"No," the photographer says, snickering. "Well, they were once." I cock my head to the side. Were?

I watch the photographer drop a hand gun into Ash's awaiting arms, then a shot gun goes to Sal. They both look pretty shocked by the weight too.

"Hold on," Ash says. "We didn't come here to fuck around with real guns. Fake ones, fine. No one can get hurt. This is different—"

"I said they were real at one point," the photographer cuts her off, heading toward Todd. "They aren't real anymore." Todd trades in his fishing hat for a gun similar to mine and the photographer rolls his eyes. "Our crew found these on eBay. They're refurbished military-grade guns, basically. They were either damaged or deemed as duds. But someone bought all of them and got creative, took them all apart and put them back together as paint-ball guns. So no, they can't hurt anyone. Plus, since they're remade and no longer used for horrendous shit, they come pretty cheap."

My lips form into a little "o" at the explanation. See, this is more acceptable. Perfectly explains why they seem so real.

"That's actually pretty interesting," Todd murmurs, turning his weapon over in his hands. "Sounds like something I'd be into."

"Leave the Super Gear Boy in seventh grade, Todd," Sal pipes up, sighing at his scientific friend.

I roll my eyes. He always has to kill the mood, and for what? I think this is a good way to kill off guns instead of letting someone fix them up to resell as actual weapons. Todd would thrive in the paint-ball industry.

"What's paint-ball even like?" Larry asks, completely mystified if when putting the sound of his voice into account. I glance to him, noting the way he looks into the barrel of the gun. Even if it's not real, that shit still makes me nervous.

I close an eye, recalling my limited paint-ball experience. If I wasn't doing something band related or reading in bed, I was playing paint-ball, truth be told. I grew up in two of California's— no, America's— major city's. If you weren't old enough to hit the bars or clubs in town, there was virtually nothing for you to do, period. That left me with dad's favorite little hobby and a run down storage building for me and my two or three friends to go rip open the gates of complete chaos. It was fun.

"I don't quite know how to explain it," I tell Larry, shrugging. I hold my gun at my side, gripping it by the handle. "Think Call of Duty. You load it, then you shoot it basically."

"And how do you know?" Ash asks, scrunching her nose up at me when I turn to acknowledge her. I love her little nose scrunch. It has to be the cutest thing I've ever seen.

"I had a lot of free time as a kid. So I used some of that time to play paint-ball," I tell her with a smile.

"You'll definitely have to teach me one day," she grins, viridian eyes twinkling in the bright white lights.

The photographers move us into place mere moments after Ash's request. I'm not used to photoshoots— so I do my best to follow the directions aimed at me. Move here, step there, pose like so.

There's a lot of straight faces and eye work. "Look angry," "look determined," "look scared but in a way that doesn't show it." None of it makes much sense to me, but I do my best, aiming my gun in random places and trying to keep the awkward grin off my face.

It's tedious work if anything. I'm stuck changing positions second after second or having to hold a pose with this heavy ass gun for ten minutes at a time. I agree with The Faces now— it isn't half as fun as models make it seem.

"My arm is killing me," Sal grumbles to himself, but I catch his words and Larry seems to as well. Sal is positioned behind me, one of his elbows on my shoulder and the other aiming his gun forward. If it's not already obvious, he fought like hell to convince the photographers to put him with someone else for this shot.

I've been trying to smoosh down all of the excitement I feel because his knee is positioned between both of my legs. His chest is pressed into my back. I can feel every breath he takes, I can smell his shampoo, I can hear every word he speaks before he even says it. Every single syllable that leaves his throat. It consumes me, leaves me a drunken mess below him.

But I try to hold onto my sanity and I do that through negativity.

"Yea," I grunt, discreetly rotating my arm. "Well, you're killing my shoulder with that bony ass elbow of yours."

Sal doesn't respond immediately, only presses his elbow even harder into my shoulder. I bite down a gasp, sneering at the photographer in front of us.

"Hold that expression, VioletViolence— perfect, beautiful!"

I want to roll my eyes. Maybe they put Sal and I together for a reason. Somehow they know we bring the worst out of each other, and thus, the angry facial expressions.

"Stay strong, broski," Larry calls out from beside me. Yea, right. He's one to talk. He's laying on his stomach with his gun propped on the ground, all he has to do is put his hands on it. "Free style match!" He suddenly yells. I furrow my eyebrows, confusion swallowing me whole. "I'll go first," Larry continues in a sing-song voice.

"Okay, so... actually, someone give me a topic." I shake my head at Larry's request. He went back on his word immediately.

But Ash is quick to jump in. She's positioned to mine and Sal's left. "Ooo!" She says. I can't look up at her or I'll get scolded for moving. "How about cake?" I almost snort and break character. Cake, of all things. It had to be Ash.

A sudden flash blinds me for a second, but I blink through it, trying to hold my angry gaze.

"Cake?" Todd mutters, huffing out a quick laugh. "That's all you could come up with?"

"Hey," Ash snaps, disappointment evident in her sweet voice. "I think it's a good topic. It's definitely going to be hard for Larry to—"

"Got something," Larry says, an evil chuckle following his statement. My eyes widen— that's a concerning laugh and he actually managed to come up with something in, what, half a second?

I need to fear this man. This buff daddy, tactical gear-wearing, snarky, humorous, emo man.

"Alright," Sal sighs from above me, finally pulling some of the weight off of my shoulder. I groan at the instant relief. I'm definitely going to get back at him for this later. "Please, do go on," Sal continues sarcastically. My guess is that he doesn't believe Larry could come up with something like that on the fly. I hate to say it, but I'm with him.

"Okay, alright," Larry whispers. "Prepare for absolutely malarkey."

I guilty grin quirks my lips and I truly struggle to hold back a couple giggles. Larry is ridiculous.

"Do you like watching people eat cake too?" Larry asks and I glance down at him, noting the shit-eating smile taking up his entire expression. He's going to get in trouble for that. And why is he asking about cake? I thought he was going to bust a few free style rhymes.

And bust some rhymes he does, taking me by complete surprise.

"Nah, I prefer watching them eat my dick. When she sucks my soul like a motherfuckin' tick. Love it when she goes in lick for lick— errrrrrr. Resident Evil, baby, I know those zombies would pick herrrrr. Got her lips around me, getting stifferrrrrr Getting kinda goofy like Stiflerrrrr."

I snap my head down to Larry, eyes wide and a cackle working it's way up my throat. Did I hear all of that right? Is this motherfucker kidding me right now?

Every single one of us breaks character— Sal snorts as soon as Larry ends his verse, Todd actual smiles and pats a giggling Larry on the back, and Ash is in tears. Her gun has clattered to the floor and she's fighting to regain control of her emotions.

I join them, giggling with Ash who's borderline moaning in humorous pain on the ground beside me, on her hands and knees. The photographers have given up on us for now— all four of them moving away to chat about the pictures, no doubt.

"Honestly, should I say that?" Larry asks, taking a deep breath and swiping a hand over his face as he calms down from his insane laughter. "That was a little much."

Sal hums next to him, so I look up. The man looks like he's holding onto his sanity by the thinnest piece of string known to humanity. All of that just to drop his own free style continuation of Larry's monstrosity.

"It's never too much, she can never get enough. She's always barking at me like a dog, ruff ruff. She's a fucking baddie, you know she likes it rough. My girl's all pretty like Hilary Duff. She begs and she pleads, she likes that kinda stuff. Transformers Megan Fox vibes, I feel like Shia LeBeouf."

"You have to be fucking kidding me," Todd bites out, voice wavering with barely held back amusement.

Ash grabs onto me for moral support and I look toward her, tears building in my eyes while I try to contain the laughter that so desperately wants to be released. How on earth could both boys come up with something like this?

When I finally see Ash, she's got a permanent gaping mouth with her eyes squeezed shut in that awesome silent laugh that tells everyone something really funny just happened.

It's a wonderful, core memory moment where everyone's keeled over, giggling or crying their guts out. Sal and I aren't angry with each other, Larry isn't flirting with anything that has a pulse, Todd isn't stoney-faced, Ash isn't plagued by constant worry. We're all just friends being goofy and enjoying our time together. I hate to say it, but this is something we don't get very often.

I look around at my friends as they recover. Larry finally takes his hands off the floor, kneeling on the ground with tears streaming down his cheeks. He swipes a hand over his face as Sal walks toward him. They do a quick fist bump, praising each other for the perfect lyric session. Sal is still bent over, his eyes scrunched together with glee to accompany his horrible attempts to contain giggles that tumble out from behind his prosthetic.

I wish he looked this happy all the time. I wish he was this happy all the time. No matter what, I can't help but imagine what it would be like if we were different people in different universes. Maybe we would have met sooner. Maybe I wouldn't feel so guilty for wanting him like I do. We could have been friends. We could have been lovers. We could have been more-- more than whatever this is. Fucking around when we feel like it because we both clearly have issues, both personal and regarding each other.

But I guess it doesn't really matter now because none of those universes are achievable. I can't unlock upgrades in life-- I just have to hope and assume that things will get better between us. To do that, I have to stop being so angry with him all the time too though. And that might be hard to do.

"She can't hear you bro," I hear Sal say. My kidney twitches at the sound of his voice. I'm being overdramatic, but that's how keen I am when it comes to his voice. I instantly tune in and feel frustration build up in me. I just know he's talking about me. "Vi's just mad she isn't Hilary Duff." I turn away from Ash, narrowing my eyes at Sal who then turns to me with malice veiled by amusement in his pretty gaze. "She isn't Megan Fox either. Must suck."

"What point are you trying to make? That I'm not successful? That I'm not pretty?" I sneer, tilting my head in question. Anyone would find that offensive. I don't know what he'll say to that, but I'm prepared for anything. If he wants a verbal battle, I'm absolutely down.

Sal shrugs, hands readjusting their grip on his gun. "I'm not saying that. I'm saying that you're not as successful or pretty as them."

I can't believe I put my everything into a blowjob for this absolute, complete, stuck up, and disrespectful cunt.

Tongue in cheek, I spin on my heel and look down at the ground. I can't tell if the flame of rage is growing in me, or if the embarrassed, insecure pin is about to officially pop my ego balloon.

Ash looks up at me, finally getting to her feet again, but she isn't laughing anymore. She isn't smiling either.

"Ash," I say shakily with failed attempts to hide my shaking hands. "I'm going to fucking strangle him," I bite out.

It seems like every time I try to look at him in a positive light, Sal's able to tell. Like he's a mind reader. And he jumps in every single time to completely obliterate any chance I was willing to give him. Even just a sliver of hope gets thrown back three miles the very moment he detects it. And now, we're ten steps back compared to the half step we had taken forward.

I can put up with most things he shoots my way, but shots to my insecurities really tear me down.

"Sweetheart, no one's going to strangle anyone, okay?" Ash says, bringing her small, cool hands to my cheeks. She lifts my face, forcing me to look into her eyes. When I do meet her gaze, those viridian irises are filled with the big R's-- regret and revenge. "Not until I do it first," she continues sweetly, her voice sugary like melted chocolate. To anyone else, it would seem like a joke, but that look in her eyes is real.

I feel a little better now.

"Ash," Sally spits out quickly, voice panicked. "I was kidding. Don't strangle me." How very pathetic of him to be scared now.

"Yea," Larry cuts in, chuckling. "He'll moan if you do."

Larry's barely able to finish his statement when a loud thwack echoes in the big room, followed by a resounding "Fuck! I'm sorry!" from emo buff daddy himself.

Ash looks off to the side, fuming with grace-- something only she can achieve. "You're lucky, Sal," she says coldly. "Larry handled you well enough, I think." She lets go of my face, so I finally chew down my anxiety and embarrassment and turn to the two boys again. Sal's looking like he's caught between contrition and anger, like he can't tell which emotion he should feel. "You need to cut this shit out, Sal. Vi didn't provoke you, there was no reason for you to say that. There's never a good, viable reason for you to target someone's looks. That was low, even for you."

I watch him with a glare, staying silent. Ash handled him better than I could. She said everything I wanted to and more.

Sal scoffs, "I wasn't serious. I'll even give Vi a compliment if that fucking helps. A real one." I don't believe him. There's nothing he could say or do that would make up for the damage he just did. Hearing his attempt at appeasement makes infuriation boil in me again, and his stupid blue eyes glancing my way only make that worse. It doesn't matter if he looks good in all that tactical gear.

"Actually," Ash chirps, "I think that's a great idea. Both of you give each other one compliment. And be serious. Don't be generic either, say something that sticks out about the other person."

Is Ash on fucking drugs? Did she smoke too much again because there's no way she dragged me into this.

"Okay, cool, fine," Sal grunts, looking to me again with a gaze that spell out the most genuine form of nonchalance. He couldn't care less about me. "I'll go first. Vi," he starts, tilting his head down. The light illuminates his azure irises, trapping me in that gilded cage I repeatedly find myself in upon simply looking at him. I hate this. "I think you have gorgeous eyes. They go with almost any color I've seen you in."

I gulp. Not only did he steal my compliment for him, he also hit me with the same compliment he gave Lexi. Does he know that we're the same person? Was that him trying to discreetly tell me that he knows my secret? But, then again, why would he go out of his way to fight me about Lexi and even text her?

Well, I've done that too, actually. But he's not like that-- so did he really mean that then? That's the only thing I can really think of.

I gape at him like a fish for a couple moments, blinking quickly while I try to come up with something to say. Blush on my cheek, fingers dipping into the pockets on my vest, boots toeing at the cement beneath me all while my heart races and my insides tremble. I shouldn't react like this after he said I wasn't as successful or pretty as famous women. I'm being ridiculous.

"I--" I say, voice barely a whisper. "You--" I try to speak a bit louder, but my voice cracks so I clear my throat, tilting my head down. What kind of compliment can I give him? "You..."

"What? Nothing you can think of?" He snaps, crossing his arms, gun still in hand. His tone blazes with fury. "You're such a hypocrite. You can get mad at my joke, but then you can't find a compliment for me even after I gave you an honest one."

I pinch my lips together. He's so fucking aggravating. "Shut up," I seethe, "I'm trying to pick one." The truth falls from my lips before I can think better of it. Please don't say anything-- please don't say the obvious. Please don't point out that there's actually things I can't help but admire about you, Sal. There's a lot that I hate, but there's a few attributes that I respect too. "You have pretty and talented hands," I finally say, lifting my left hand to gesture toward him. But that sounds like I'm referring to his expert ability to make me cum. "You're really, um, a talented guitarist," I tack on, wincing. I'm trying so hard to keep the heat off of me that I may very well be attracting it instead.

I take a quick, quivering breath as true terror grips my mind and body. Anyone would be able to tell how hard that was for me, how shameful it was. This is awful, this entire day has turned into a mess.

I pull a mag from my vest, inspecting it to pass the time and ignore my surroundings. But when I look into the cartridge, expecting it to be empty, I'm pleasantly surprised to see it completely filled with neon blue and green paint-balls.

Surely these photographers aren't that dumb. They can't be, right?

A satisfying shiver runs through my body, making goosebumps rise along my skin. This is just the distraction I was looking for. Everyone's had more than enough time to think over the compliment I gave Sal, but I won't let them get a chance to say anything about it.

"Hey, Ángel," I call loudly, glancing up to survey the room and find the photographer who told us about these guns in the first place. I finally catch his confused gaze and nudge my chin in his direction. "Do you guys have extra tactical gear?" Come up with something, y/n. No one can suspect anything. "I'd love to bring this home if I can," I lie smoothly, offering up a shy smile. "You know, for... memories."

Ángel shrugs, giving me a look that screams that he thinks I'm a little crazy. "I mean, we always have extras but you can't take it home. Activision spent money on all of this."

"Ah," I hum, returning to examining the weapon of mental destruction in my hands-- a fully loaded magazine of paint-balls. "Bummer," I mumble.

With an energetic grin on my face, I shove the mag into the holder right in front of the trigger. This is unlike any paint-ball gun I've ever seen, so I'm taking a guess-- but it clicks into place easily, so I assume I'm doing something right.

"Well," Ash says softly, awkwardly. "That was a... nice compliment, Vi." I can tell she's trying to make me feel better, but she's struggling too. I don't blame her. What I said was so sad, really.

But I have this paint-ball gun to make me feel better.

"Yea," I murmur distractedly. "Hey," I ask her, looking up for a moment. "Does this thing have a safety? Does it work?" Using what very little knowledge I know of weapons here. I'm a fan of knives for a reason.

"Um," Ash purses her lips, leaning over my shoulder. She turns my gun over and flips a little switch, showing a red dot. "Yea, look," she continues. "When red shows, safety's off." Then she switches it again.

I nod my head, letting that information go in through one ear and out the other as soon as I flip the switch again, taking the gun off of safety. I'll never need that knowledge anyway.

"Thanks, Ashy," I chirp, grabbing onto the barrel of the gun with one hand and the handle with the other, lifting it up so I can look through the scope. It's one little red line line at the end of the glass so I move the weapon, glancing around the room until Sal is in my sight.

"Nothing's better than revenge, my dear friend," I mumble to Ash as I close my left eye to get better focus on my target. I lick my lips, waiting for Sal to acknowledge me, finger hovering over the trigger. Energy reverberates through my body, hitting the top of my skull and bouncing back down to my toes, only to repeat the process over and over again.

Ash gasps and I really wish I could see her expression right now. "Vi," she hisses excitedly," Are you really--"

Before she can even finish her sentence, Sal turns his head, blue eyes flashing when he notices me. I see panic fill him for a brief second, right before I turn my aim to the armor plate on his chest and press down on the trigger before I can give myself time to change my mind-- or give Sal time to talk me out of this.

There's a loud thunk that comes from the gun as soon as the paint-ball flies out of the barrel. Then the splat heard around the fucking world the exact second that Sal's armor plate gets hit with neon green.

Paint gets everywhere. It's on the bottom half of his prosthetic, all over his chest and black shirt, spilling down his pale arms.

Sal staggers on his feet, taking a step back to catch himself from the velocity and force of the paint-ball. It didn't hurt him-- he didn't make a painful sound, plus the armor plate protected him. But he's a mess now which makes this evil plan of mine so worth it.

I lower the gun, opening my left eye to get a good look at the damage. Todd's jaw is dropped, his eyes wide. He caught a bit of the paint too, a couple green dots littering his freckled face. Larry starts laughing as soon as he gets a good look at Sal too, tears streaming down his cheeks for the second time today as he drops to his knees again.

Ash giggles beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "This is why I love you," she tells me confidently. My smile widens. "Great minds think alike."

Sal looks down at himself, lifting his arms up to examine his now neon green chemical spill. All that black polish on his nails is covered in green. His shirt sleeves: green. Veiny, guitar playing hands-- you guessed it, green. It's a beautiful catastrophe in my opinion.

And then he looks up, absolutely murderous blue eyes locking onto mine. Now he feels just like I felt earlier-- ready to attack at any second.

I grin at him, putting my arms in a comfier position over my body so I can hold onto my gun. "What a shame," I say, feigning disappointment. "I ruined those pretty, guitar playing hands of yours." I stick out my bottom lip in a fake pout. "I guess my compliment to you is obsolete now."

__________________

A/N:::::: HI SWEET BABIES!!! i'm back with another ryver original. the lyrics that larry and sal spit out during this chapter was the outcome of an idea bestowed upon me by my friends. i mentioned that i liked watching people eat cake, and they said, "that sounds like either the intro to a porno or a lyric in a rap song." so... i wrote a a couple verses for it LMAO i can't control myself, i am very much an embarrassing disappointment.

ANYWAY i really wanted to post this sooner, but i had my first day back at college yesterday and i was utterly exhausted. i literally fell asleep at 8pm and all of you know that i'm an unapologetic night owl so going to bed early was WEIRD-- but needed apparently. I didn't wake up til 9:30 this morning and that was only 'cause i had a class at 11am :3

huge thanks to MadamMilky on Wattpad for coming up with Sal's tattoo-- i think it's such a cute, unique idea for him and it just fits so incredibly well <333

so here you go, dropping a 12k word load on you guys again. thank you for the continued support, for the love, for the friendship. thank you for everything. i love you all eternally, more than the sun loves the day and the moon loves the night <;33

#sal fisher #sally face #larry johnson #ash campbell #todd morrison #travis phelps #enemies to lovers #sally face fandom #sally face fanfiction #fanfic #smut

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