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#this might be totally incomprehensible idk

8greenstickynotes · 8 months

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exactly two (2) people told me to do it so now you get sleep deprived rambling from yours truly about all the ways Rick Riordan fucked up Nico di Angelo's age.

general disclaimers: i have not finished rereading all the books so there is a high chance I've missed a random detail because I wasn't going searching through the 10ish books that Nico features in, to double check a tiny detail. If I'm not sure of something I'll say so and I might correct it later.

I'm also working off the assumption that if you’re reading this you know

a. The characters names b. The book name acronyms and c. The storyline (or atleast the general storyline)

Okay? Okay.

I'm only going to briefly skim through why Nico di Angelo's age is a topic of confusion within the fandom in the first place;

He’s first introduced as being 10ish years old, but when we get through to Heroes of Olympus he’s 16. Heroes of Olympus is set 4 years later, not 6. (see the problem?)

It has become weirdly controversial (at least in certain circles) as to whether Nico is 14, or 16. And me being an overachiever who is slightly too invested in Nico’s storyline, I decided to go and figure out where Rick fucked up.

First we have what I refer to as the 10/14 timeline:

Nico is introduced in The Titans Curse, which if we use the following timeline and the assumption that TLT happened in 2005, takes place in December 2006. As best as I can remember/I read somewhere that Nico was 10 (Born 1935, put in the Lotus casino in 1945) during the events of this book and that Bianca was 12 (Born 1933, put in the Lotus casino in 1945). Which would make Nico the following ages in the following books:

TTC (December 2006): 10 BOTL (Summer 2007): 11 TLO (Summer 2008): 12 HOO Series (December 2008 - June/August 2009): 13 TOA Series (January to about June (Based on when The Ship Of the Dead was set) 2010): 14 TSATS (August/September 2010): 14

That kind of wants to make me tear my hair out because

That is a child and

The fandom wiki says he’s 15, which as best as I can tell is 1 year off no matter which 'timeline' you follow

That part makes sense, and if Rick had been consistent, we could've accepted the fact that Nico is 14, no matter how depressing that is. Unfortunately Rick is not known for his consistency especially when it comes to Nico’s character.

The question still stands though; Why is anyone thinking he’s 16? Ahahahaha. The short answer? Rick can’t fucking count. Thus enters the 13/17 timeline:

In House of Hades when they’re visiting the Diocletian’s private residence (or more well known as Moments Before Disaster (aka. The scene right before the Cupid scene™ (page 272 in my copy) Nico says to Jason that he visited when he was about 6 or so in 1938, which would put his birth year around 1932. This doesn’t align with his 10/14 timeline and puts him at 16 in Heroes of Olympus.

Being born in 1932 makes him 13 in 1945. This means Bianca would have been born in 1930, making her 15 in Titans Curse, which of course makes her older than Percy and completely fucks up their (Percy and Bianca's) dynamic. (Bianca being younger than Percy is significant because she is the same age when she dies as Percy is when he goes on his first quest, so not only is Percy responsible for her because of his promise of Nico, but because she is that little bit younger than him (in fact she’s the youngest character to die in the series, I have thoughts about Percy and the di Angelo siblings relationships but I won't get into them here) To make matters more confusing for Bianca and her age, no matter when Nico is referred to have having been born, she’s only ever referred to as dying at 12, or being 12 in Titans Curse, when talking about Nico's age, no one ever considers her (which, rude.). Even if Nico is following the 1932 timeline, she's still the older sister and somehow still 12 when she dies. (I don't get it either, man.)

If Nico was born in 1932 that puts him at the following ages in the series:

TTC (December 2006): 13 BOTL (Summer 2007): 14 TLO (Summer 2008): 15 HOO Series (December 2008 - June/August 2009): 16 TOA Series (January to about June (Based on when The Ship Of the Dead was set) 2010): 17 TSATS (August/September 2010): 17

This version of the timeline is overall more palatable for the audience (both from a childs point of view and for older readers), there is no longer a 12 year old fighting in a war but instead a 15 year old (not sure if this is better tbh), and, uh also, percico becomes wayyy less sketchy, (y’know it goes from from 14x18 (😐🤨) to 17x18)

So if there are two clear cut timelines/ages for Nico why is everyone so confused? Shouldn’t we just pick one and call it a day? Well. Rick has stated two birthdays for Nico, January 28th 1924 and May 16th 1924.

Yeah. I know.

1924??? What the fuck. (this is honestly more evidence for the fact that Rick can’t count.) If Nico was born in 1924 that would have made him 21 in 1945. Which is just wrong.

January 28th and May 16th are pretty different dates and are also totally random. (literally nothing significant that would relate to Nico symbolically happens on those days)

The date listed on the Fandom Wiki is January 28th 1932, but honestly, Fandom isn’t the most reliable source but that contains already established dates, so sure why not. With Nico's age constantly being called into question, where does this leave Nico and Will?

Will is referred to often in Fanfiction as ‘the older boy’ which lines up with canon and the Fandom wiki (is this the first time all three groups have lined up??) but unfortunately the Fandom wiki lists him as being 16 years old despite being referred to as 15 in the Tower of Nero and throughout TOA. Because this inconsistency lines up with Nico’s on the Fandom Wiki, I think it's safe to say that the wiki aged them up prematurely so that's not really an issue, but follows Nico's 10/14 timeline. (10/14 timeline would make Will 15 and Nico 14 and the 13/17 would make Will 18 and Nico 17)

Something I almost forgot but want to mention is that Rick either switches back to Nico's original timeline in TOA (10/14), or , puts Will and Nico into a relationship with a 2 year age gap (15x17). Honestly, given we have Frank/Hazel and Leo/Calypso, and Nico's character inconsistencies in the past both are equally likely-

The next question is of course, how old is Nico actually???? (that's said in a slight hysterical laughing/crying combo voice.) uh, despite all of that^ there isn’t really an answer and honestly? I couldn’t give less of a fuck which age/timeline you use. If you want child soldier angst or ‘oh my goodness how could they do that to him’ (etc) use the 10/14 one. If you want trauma explorations or shipping opportunities (etc) use the 13/17. Stick to one, switch between the two, whatever suits you best.

Bonus thoughts:

Why did his age change? Here are my thoughts

Rick literally just can’t count and straight up forgot how old nico was supposed to be in the 6 years between the TTC and HOH releases - boring but most likely :/

Rick realised that as his story went on, having Nico (who by the time his age was changed was a pretty major player) as a literal c-h-i-l-d wasn’t a great idea for what he was doing in the story - a valid reason for changing the age but not likely, we know Rick has little problems in creating child soldiers (See: Kane Chronicles)

Rick realised that Nico being a child made a few things awkward, namely the romantic relationships he was planning - a valid reason for changing the age and maybe?? likely.

tldr?

Nico is either 10 in Titans Curse and 14 by the end of The Sun and The Star or 13 in Titans Curse and 17 by the end of The Sun and The Star. Rick switches between ages like his life depends on it fucking up Bianca and Wills ages in the process. Pick and chose whichever timeline works best for you and your story, but make sure to change Will especially to match.

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transmascissues · 5 months

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conversations i’ve had with my mom this week about top surgery that will make my brain melt if i try too hard to make sense of them:

i was talking to her about how i might have to extend my medical leave because i probably won’t be ready to work at 4 weeks. she told me she didn’t expect my recovery to take this long. this is the same woman who, before i got top surgery, told me horror stories about someone she knew who had complications for months after having a mastectomy. was she just making shit up? was she lecturing me about things she was actively still in denial about? i can’t even begin to guess.

i mentioned to her that i’ve been posting about my experiences with recovery and she seemed…offended? by the idea that i was talking about it publicly. i shouldn’t be surprised because she’s the one who once told me the online trans community is “cult-like” and that she thought i was only getting top surgery because the trans people in my computer convinced me. the thing is, she’s also constantly asking me how my recovery timeline compares to other people so i…don’t know how she expects me to get that information if she also thinks talking to people about my recovery is bad.

she was asking me about how my incisions are healing and she told me to describe how they look to her…but “not anything that’ll make me cry”. do i know what she meant by that? nope! i can only assume the right move was to not describe anything too in-depth, even if it meant not including important details because they might upset her. priorities, am i right?

she asked me if, having been through the worst of recovery and knowing what it’s like, i would still make the same choice to get top surgery. obviously i said i would. she then proceeded to keep saying things like “really? are you sure? even after all this? you know you don’t have to say that, right?” as if it was completely impossible to believe i don’t regret this. why did she ask if she didn’t really want to hear the answer? god only knows.

we found out how much my insurance paid for the part of my surgery costs that were covered and it turns out they paid way more than any of the estimates i was given. my mom kept saying “that’s a lot of money you know” over and over again, as if i didn’t know that an amount of money high enough to buy a small house is a lot. i think she was trying to make some kind of point. what point? idk man.

0/10 totally incomprehensible interactions. i don’t even know what to make of them. i think now that the surgery is done and she can’t fight it anymore, she’s gone from being overtly ridiculous about it to just bringing the absolute weirdest vibes to every conversation about it.

#i hope y’all are enjoying the random updates on my moms bullshit #bc im sure this is FAR from the end of it #top surgery adventures #transandrophobia #transandromisia #transmisandry #virilmisia #virilphobia #anti transmasculinity #transmascphobia #trans men #transmascs #top surgery

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sweeneydino · 3 months

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*BIG INHALE* Hi! I’ve been rotating the Spikeangelo au in my brain for a while, and things might get incomprehensible real quick. Not all questions, some just comments... 90% of this is just musing as the train of thought jumps rails and causes massive casualties; no need to answer all if you chose to answer any.

1. The fact that Master Splinter lets Titan live with them BEFORE he knows that he’s a version of Mikey, even after the attempted murder… man will look at a mutated turtle, ask, “Is anyone going to adopt that?” and not wait for an answer.

2. In Turtle Temper, Splinter says, “Spike, chew on your leaf if you are in the mood for a story”. Ronin has a choice here: pest Raph by eating, or troll Splinter by not. What choice would he make?

3. It seems like during the Slash and Destroy episode, Titan already had his outfit. If so… where did he get the clothes? The little turtles don’t really wear anything (and their clothes would be much smaller), so unless Splinter has a secret goth wardrobe, the only thing I can think of is that Raph is Very Optimistic about how tall he’s going to get, and has stockpiled clothes accordingly.

4. A while back you mentioned Titan “chewing [Shredder] out” after Shredder kills Splinter during the Triceraton invasion. The image you drew made it look like a tirade, but the first thing that came to mind for me was… more along the lines of using Shredder as a dog toy.

5. You said that after Slash and Destroy, Titan hides for a while out of shame. When does he rejoin the others? Before the invasion, *during* the invasion, after? Does he join the farmhouse arc, or does he do as canon Slash does and defend NYC while the rest of the turtles are gone?

Ah... there's a very long part six that's just about the ghosts... I don't think I'll be bothering you with that today.

When I see these types of asks, I can never control the squeal that comes out of my mouth. I love detailed analyses about my aus

I also love completing things, so let's do them all!

1) Yep! Idk whats with the Splinters, but if it's turtle-shaped and needs a home, well say no more!

When Spike turned to Titan, Splinter already sensed something off with him, something more familiar than a family pet, but he would never figure out why until their lair is attacked by the kraang at the start of the invasion.

It's hard not to realize that your son's former pet knows moves (and shows a strange amount of wisdom) that you're 90% sure you never taught or shown to any of your sons.

I think he's still upset about the pizza. Or Raph's anger.

3)Dumpster diving?

I'll be honest, I forgot to write it down... So we will stick to this simple solution for now🗿

Okay, well... Shredder ALMOST became a dog toy. Let's just say that (this will totally not be a future comic)

5) He reunites with them after the newtralizer arc! After a little convincing ofc

When the invasion begins, he's with Splinter and Leatherhead, having defended their home and now searching for the turtles. They find Shredder after they exit the sewer, and Titan isn't too pleased to see the old bastard, attacking him in a rage once he hears about Leo's possible "demise."

Unfortunately, when he gains the upper hand, Titan is the one caught off guard and knocked into the machine, crushed by the pipes.

Before Shredder could really begin his usual evil monologue, he becomes distracted with Leatherhead, allowing Splinter to check on Titan and help him out of the pile of metal. Despite the likelihood of having a huge bruise on his ribs, he'd be fine. Even better if he could get rid of all their issues right there in front of him.

The one wrestling an alligator. And somehow winning.

And when he sees that devil in that all too familiar armor toss leatherhead into the pit, he's all too ready to kill him.

Yet he can't. Because He's not the only one wanting to prevent the past from happening again.

Splinter sends him away to find his sons, Titan's brothers - well, sorta - and even if he wants to bring Oroku Saki, the worse pain imaginable, he's more concerned if they are okay.

...

Okay, well, if the rest of them are okay

COUGH COUGH.

He'd find them, with him.

And uh. I think Leo's perfectly fine.

So when they decided to leave for April's farmhouse, he stayed in the city to search for Splinter and the other Mutanimals after leaving Leo with the others.

Maybe he sees himself as a burden.

Then the rest you make up on the way 👍 /j

This was very fun! Maybe I should just write paragraphs or smol little chapters with much more detail and flow🤔

Nah, I'll just draw.

Can't wait for the looooooooooonnngggg part six :D

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silverzoomies · 7 months

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Monster Mash

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: shameless smut, smut, kissing, porn with plot, halloween, zombies, biting, undead, undead!reader, gender neutral reader, zombie kink

word count: 11,996

a/n: first of three peter-centric halloween fics!! hopefully i'll get them all posted before the month ends!! timeline here is extremely fuzzy, and might not fall in line with canon. it's kind of super ambiguous.

the usual apologies: clunky writing, potentially ooc peter/other characters, inconsistencies, ending's super meh, etc etc etc. idk if peter would realistically be down to bang a cute, zombified reader. but hey, it's fiction. why the heck not!

tag list (i remembered this time!!): @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @icannot3 @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @luttic @billielourdslays

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October. Just a week before Halloween.

Peter didn’t celebrate the holiday too often these days. Not like he used to. Ever since he took up teaching at the X-mansion, he only participated in a handful of Halloween activities. The staple being - playing escort for mutant kiddos on trick-or-treating ventures. An activity he enjoyed a lot, since the kiddos referred to “Mr. Maximoff” as “the school's most awesome trick-or-treat buddy.” Which had nothing to do with Peter swiping a little extra candy - for the kids, of course - when the other teachers weren’t looking. Swear on his life.

Another Halloween festivity he loved? The school's annual, X-family Halloween party. The team generally left Peter in charge of decorations, considering it took him no time at all to set them up. Professor Chuck himself - legendary baldy - always played host at those parties. As per tradition - after the party died down - Peter cozied up in the living room with the team. They’d gather together to watch everyone’s favorite horror flicks on VHS.

He really couldn’t wait for this year’s festivities. Peter looked forward to those after-party, horror movie marathons every year. Movie nights with the team? Pretty freakin’ awesome. If only for two reasons: The abundance of sugary garbage to snack on. And the way Ororo loooooooved snuggling up with him on the couch. Being so hot natured helped. Living life in the fast lane - operating like a human furnace - sure had its perks sometimes. ‘Ro’s cuddling made an excellent distraction from Peter’s unbridled loneliness. Haha...

C-...Consider that a topic for another day. Moving on.

On horror movie night, Peter inevitably saw the jumpscares coming leagues before anyone else. It never failed. He’d call them seconds ahead of time. With ‘Ro lying at his side, and his arm wrapped around her waist. Peter would exclaim, “Jumpscare!”, breaking the tension heavy silence amongst the group. Spoiling whatever movie played. Everyone hated it, of course. Kurt growled at him. Animalistic, but nowhere near intimidating. Jubilee pelted Peter with popcorn.

Peter just couldn’t help himself. Those scares were so predictable and boring sometimes. Sure, he liked horror movies enough. With all the gnarly gore and twisted kills. But they never freaked him out, since he didn’t spook easily. His incomprehensible reaction time made terror a tough game.

All that being said...

Even with his totally outrageous bravery streak, Peter - guilty as charged - sure had his candy-ass moments.

This current mission proved, without a doubt, one of the spookiest situations he’d ever landed himself in. He could feel it in the air tonight. And not in the groovy, Phil Collins way either. An ominous sense of uneasiness crawled across his skin. Eerie vibes sent chills creeping up his spine like spiders through a web. Peter wished he could fast forward to Halloween night on the couch with ‘Ro. Heck, he'd even take decorating duty over this any day of the week. At least he could go all out, and have his own fun with it.

For an October’s night, the weather seemed uncannily coincidental. Drops of rain showered from a mass of black clouds. A sharp crack of lightning struck the ground, with a roar of thunder following in succession. It rattled the very foundation of the abandoned lab Peter found himself exploring. As part of a last minute, late night mission.

Below his feet, tiled floors laid in disrepair. Dirtying the mismatched laces of his untied sneakers. Peter snuck his way through murky hallways, his heightened senses buzzing on edge. Fight or flight kicked into high gear, making him all the more sensitive to any outside stimuli. Another echoing roar rumbled through the building, threatening to topple its cracking walls. Peter worried the ceiling might cave in at any moment.

A terrifying thought. But it happened to be the exact reason Hank chose Peter for this mission to begin with. Should shit hit the fan, Peter could skedaddle at the speed of light unscathed. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Unlike his other team members, who might risk being flattened like a pancake. Under the weight of, not one, but two floors above.

…Speaking of pancakes. Peter should definitely drop by a mom ‘n pop diner before heading back to base. He could really go for a fresh stack of late night hotcakes right about now. Warm and soft. With chocolate chips melting on the inside. Caked in sticky syrup and slathered with butter. Oooooh! And a little bacon on the side. Not too crispy, not too flop-

His mouth watered, and Peter blinked. Wiping his jacket sleeve across his lips, he redirected his attention to the task at hand. Focus, Quickie. He had a job to do, and he didn’t wanna be stuck doing said job all night.

The lab sat nestled off the coast of some island with a foreign name. Super hard to pronounce. Peter couldn’t remember it off the top of his head. Prior to this assignment, he’d never even heard of the place. But apparently, neither had anyone else. Hank sent Peter in search of what he dubbed leads on a mystery project. Something to do with scientific documents.

If he found any, he’d read their info over to Scott. Who would then relay that same intel back to Hank. Like an insanely boring game of telephone. Why Peter couldn’t speak to Hank directly was anybody’s guess. Too busy with his super secret project thingy-majig, possibly?

Hanging from Peter’s stereo belt alongside his old Walkman, a walkie screeched with a shrill chirp. A shock of alarm shot straight through Peter’s veins, making him jump. Scott’s voice crackled from the speakers.

“Any updates, Pete?” Scott asked, “Tell me anything you got. Even if it seems boring. Just hit me with it. It’s gotta be better than waiting around here in the lab, doing nothing.”

Peter held a compact flashlight in one hand, searching the lab’s pitch black halls. Most of the rooms he passed looked desolate. Barren and dusty. Save for the odd desk or empty cabinet. Peter wondered if they’d all been ransacked when the place closed down. The ceiling leaked rain from the floors above, dripping onto Peter’s bomber jacket. At the edge of his vision, he caught a rat scurrying by. But otherwise, not much else.

Pulling the walkie from his belt, he brought it up to his lips, “Uh. It’s dark and kinda spooky here. Saw a rat. Storm’s not gettin’ any better. It keeps shakin’ the whole place.” Peter shook his head, “If it doesn’t let up, I’m gonna have to split. Don’t wanna wait around to see what happens next, y’know? Over."

On the other end of the line, Scott breathed an annoyed sigh. Even through low-quality speaker fuzz, Peter could tell the sigh lacked any real spite.

“Peter. We’ve been over this. We aren’t using decades old, two-way radio communication. You really don’t have to say over. ”

Peter drummed his free hand on an empty desk. Following the beat of Sweet Poison by Naked Eyes, as it played from the only earbud he wore. He wanted to keep one ear open, just to hear Scott clearly. And mayhaps because he felt the teensy weensiest bit paranoid by his lonesome in the lab.

“Copy that. Over.” He grinned to himself.

The further Peter explored the lab’s halls, thick layers of mucky green seemed to take over. If he had to guess, he assumed Hank didn’t consider masses of moss “key intel.” Every few feet Peter stepped, he tore his way through another wall of cobwebs. Lots and lots of creepy cobwebs. Reduced to undying boredom, Peter took to karate chopping them. Might as well have fun in the face of ennui.

Half second flickers of lightning cast the lab in gleaming flashes. Bringing Peter’s attention to more rooms he missed. He wandered through some old offices. Or what he thought were offices, anyway. The trashed state of the rooms made it hard to tell. Nothing within them had withstood the test of time. Peter even tried poking around with some clunky computers. No luck. Dead as doornails.

“Found some computers. C64’s, I think. Haven’t seen one ‘a these bad boys since forever ago. But they’re totally busted.” Peter reported into the walkie, banging a fist onto one of the computers, “Yep. Busted. Over.”

Before leaving the room, Peter fucked around. Knocking over a computer monitor for no reason at all. He snatched a few, grubby pens from a lone desk. As well as a cracked coffee mug that read “I try to tell chemistry jokes, but there’s no reaction.” Just for the heck of it. Why not swipe some keepsakes, eh?

After what felt like a geological age of scouring, Peter eventually stumbled upon more filing cabinets. Stuffed to the brim with research documents and science-y records. Sighing, he pulled each drawer open one by one. Peter read the dusty files, sharing intel with Scott over the walkie. For every document Scott dismissed, Peter tossed them carelessly aside over his shoulder.

Antsy to wrap the mission up, grab some pancakes, and race home for a game of GoldenEye; Peter rushed through the last few folders. In hopes of finding whatever specific file Hank needed. But upon the last one, Scott broke some totally bogus news.

“Sorry about this.” Scott sighed, “Those files? Yeah. Hank says they’re all duds. No dice. You think it’s safe to keep looking? You might have to check the second floor.” He mentioned, to Peter’s dismay.

Peter bumped his head into the filing cabinet, groaning aloud. With a kick of his foot, he closed the last drawer and trudged onward. Oh well. The speedster could totally manage. At least he brought mix-tapes to keep his mind occupied. Along with extra tapes stashed in his belt pockets for good measure. Without music, he’d be so outrageously miserable on a mission like this.

Shining the dinky flashlight, he scanned the first floor area one more time. Just to be sure. The flashlight’s glow passed a set of double doors, leading to-

Wait. Back it up a sec. Double doors? Quietly singing New Order’s Blue Monday to himself, Peter moonwalked backwards to observe the doors again. Knitting his brows, he blinked. Stumped.

“Yo. Scotty. Got another room on the first floor. Gonna check it out real quick. Over.” Peter reported, clicking the walkie into place on his belt.

Another echo of thunder rattled through the lab, shaking the floors above. Lightning illuminated the halls in temporary flickers of white. Peter stared at the large set of doors, totally bamboozled. He couldn’t comprehend how he missed them before. When he knew for a fact he checked every nook and cranny. Inching closer, he eyed a sign pasted on one of the doors. In a rough scratch of permanent marker, the sign read:

Reanimation experiments in progress. Do not disturb!!

Reanimation? What, like…of the dead? Pfffbt. No way! Could this spooky place get any spookier? Peter swallowed an uncomfortable wedge in his throat. Shaking off any chills threatening to overtake him, he shined his flashlight through one of the door’s windows. Peter scanned the area for anything useful.

Inside, he clocked an operating table. Close to that, a lone cart cluttered with rusty, surgical tools. Cracked computer screens lined one of the walls, more advanced than they should’ve been. At least for the era they originated. Tangled cables ran along the floor, leading to something in the shadows. Peter couldn’t make it out.

He arched a brow, finally locking his sights on - Aha! Jackpot! More filing cabinets. Hopefully, they held his ticket out of this creepy place. Fingers crossed. Peter burst into the room in a flash, kicking up dust in his wake. Tearing through another wall of cobwebs, he surveyed the area again. Making a mental note of every cabinet he could see. Enough to keep him busy for the next hour, he guessed. Peter slumped his shoulders, huffing an aggravated groan.

Talking to Scott through the entire process made it more bearable. Being so no nonsense and straight forward, Scott had no problem retaining the info Peter shared from every file. Which saved the speedster any hassle of repeating himself, or having to explain things he didn’t understand. Science? Not really Peter's area of expertise. He thought himself more of a tech, or music guy.

Luckily enough, Peter found whatever documents Hank sent him after. A deep dive into every folder, in every drawer, in about a dozen different cabinets were all it took. Had Peter aged another thirty years? He sure as hell felt like it. No sweat! Mission accomplished. Time to bid the old lab goodbye.

Peter flew through the rest of the cabinets in less than a second’s time. Triple checking for any intel Hank might find compelling. He skimmed some records documenting the “reanimation of dead tissue.” Hm. Actually, blue beastie might potentially find that fascinating. “Reanimation” of the dead didn’t exactly sound too commonplace in modern science, did it?

In a folder, Peter discovered a file. Clipped with a photograph of - hellllllllooooo there! Someone…kinda cute. Very cute. Peter whistled, piercing the quiet thrum of distant rain. He read on.

Oh. The cute someone. They died. Tragically perished. Hit by a car back in the 80’s. What a bummer. One of the scientist's brought them to the lab as a test subject. Used for some twisted experiment in reanimation. The kicker? They proved to be the lab’s first and only successful trial run. Of around fifty different, reanimation trials. Yikes. That's...a lotta dead bodies.

These scientists successfully revived the dead? Peter doubted it. Over a decade had passed since then, and no one ever used the technology mentioned in the files. This lab's research couldn’t be as successful as they documented. Or something must've gone wrong, for them to give up and shut down the lab's operation completely.

Yeah. Treating human corpses like science fair projects for school? Super warped. Hank, wacky in his science ventures, totally found macabre shit like that interesting. Shrugging, Peter tucked the manilla folders he gathered under an arm. He grabbed his walkie, and reported to Scott.

“I got somethin’ else Hank might be into. It's totally messed up, he'll love it. But-uh…if that’s all he needed? I’m gonna jet now, ‘kay? I can’t take another minute in this scary ass place. Over and out.”

Before making his leave, Peter glanced around the room one last time. He appeared near the operating table in a picosecond, his brown eyes scanning the cart next to it. Curiously, Peter picked through some rusty, surgical tools.

Upon finding a scalpel in fairly okay condition, he swiped the tool and slipped it inside his back pocket. Whistling to Oingo Boingo's No One Lives Forever - in hindsight, kind of ironic - playing from his Walkman, Peter raised a foot to kick the cart. Watching it roll away into a nearby wall. Hasta la vista.

As Peter steered away from the operating table, a monstrous shadow loomed at the edge of his vision. His heart rampantly pounded in his chest, his senses still high strung. Jumping back with a terrified gasp, Peter climbed halfway onto the operating table. He fumbled for his flashlight, pointing the glow at the massive bundle of darkness. The light shook in Peter’s trembling hand.

But it-...oh. Phew! Nothing to be afraid of. Hah. What the heck was Peter gettin’ riled up for?

Like something straight out of science fiction, Peter’s shadowy monster proved nothing more than a giant pod. He squinted, moving towards it until close enough to observe it more clearly. The tech appeared big enough to hold a person of his size. Or, hell, maybe even someone of Beast’s size. Peter ran a hand along the surface of the pod, gathering a layer of dust on his fingertips. Scowling, he shuddered, wiping the dust on his jeans. “ EUGH! Eck-” Peter exclaimed to no one, “What’s up with this dusty, old thing??” Glass encased the outer layer of the large machine. It might've been see-through, if not for the unsanitary grime blanketing the entire thing. Years upon years of soot build up. Peter tried wiping the dust away with his elbow, to no avail. He couldn’t see inside, even with the aid of his flashlight.

Puzzled, Peter darted around the room in a silver blur, searching for clues. A switch of some kind? A secret code? He tampered with everything from the cracked monitors on the wall, to the colorful cables lining the floor. Peter even tried prying the pod open with a rusty hammer he found. Still, it refused to budge. Even with the power of speedster strength. Was it made of adamantium or something?

Sighing, defeated, Peter tossed the hammer away. It crashed into one of the screens hanging against the wall. Shattering the crystal display upon impact. Whoops. Oh well. How much more damage could be done to the place? Not like anyone would be making renovations anytime soon. Not in the middle of buttfuck nowhere island.

Making an accidental misstep, Peter slipped on his untied shoelaces. His ankle entangled itself in a circle of cables on the floor, and he lost his balance. Tripping, Peter stumbled backwards into some busted machinery, knocking his head. His back collided with the hard, metal surface behind him.

“ Auuugh. Shit.” Peter muttered. He didn’t understand how he could be so goddamn clumsy all the time, given - what the professor called - his mutant gift, “Ow. Dammit.”

He must have triggered a switch when he tripped. Suddenly, a loud hiss seethed through the air like a bus braking to a stop. A slow moving cloud of smoke rose from inside the pod. As it spread, filling the room, the fumes turned radioactive neon in color. It swarmed Peter’s nostrils, overflowing his senses with an earthy scent.

“Uhhh…uh oh.” He mumbled, “Is that supposed to happen?” Acting in haste, Peter scrambled to free his ankle from the cable’s tight grip.

A corpse reanimation research lab.

Nope. Noooope. He’d seen Return of the Living Dead enough times to know - whatever the hell’s happening now? Bad news. Couldn’t be good. Peter suppressed the urge to scream like a frightened child. A buzzing voice chimed from his walkie, startling him further. Dammit all, Scotty! He almost sent Peter into cardiac arrest for a hot second.

“Peter? Hey-uh, are you there? You alright? You didn’t stop somewhere for pancakes again, did you?” Scott crackled through the walkie, but Peter didn’t respond, “Better bring enough back for the whole class.” He joked, sarcastic.

Peter gawked at the sight before him in a mix of horror and confusion. Completely petrified, as Oingo Boingo played through his ear. The neon smoke emitted from the pod began to clear, revealing a body inside. A dead body.

Your dead body, to be specific.

Somehow, Peter recognized you. But that didn’t make any sense at all. He knew for a freakin’ fact he’d never seen or met you a day in his life. Unless… oh. Oh, holy shit. He hurriedly grabbed the extra folder he’d taken and opened it, just to glance between you, and the photo inside. And sure enough… The first and only successful trial run in reanimation.

Oh. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Peter’s eyes blew open wide. His stomach dropped twenty thousand feet through the ground, plummeting to the Earth’s core. Swallowing thickly, he observed your slumbering body from his position on the dirty floor.

Your skin appeared ashier than it naturally should be. Y’know, on account of being dead and all. It more closely resembled a subdued, greenish color. Kinda Frankenstein-esc. Stitches lined each and every one of your limbs. As if some psycho nut job took you apart and sewed you back together again. Judging by the info in your file, they probably did. Embedded into your neck, were two bolts on either side. Also very Frankenstein-esc. You reminded him of a wax dummy on the set of some low-budget, horror flick. It’d be kinda funny, if he didn’t feel seconds away from screaming in horror.

You could be a dummy, if Peter had any luck. Yeah. This mission? Surely just a super elaborate prank set up by the team. Like a haunted house tour, made to scare the silver pants off him. Those sly dogs think they’re so slick, huh? ...R-Right?

Peter took a deep breath, keeping his terrified gaze fixed on you. In his ear, the funky tune came to an end. The lab fell into a deafening silence. Only broken by the faintest pitter patter of rain, and a quiet clamor of thunder now echoing at a distance. Signaling the passing of the storm. One less thing to worry about.

Though, he’d much rather agonize over a building’s foundation crumbling. He could handle a weather-related disaster wayyy better than a zombie coming to life, to - potentially - gorge on his flesh.

Raising his flashlight, he pointed the glow at your lifeless body. Again, Peter breathed a long sigh to ease his panic stricken nerves. An interference of crackling static ripped through the walkie then. Loud, and shrill enough to cut glass. At that very moment, your eyes - once locked in eternal slumber - popped open freakishly wide.

Oh. Oh hellllll no. Fuck that. Fuuuuck that.

Peter’s hunch proved totally right. You weren’t just dead. You were undead.

“ Mmmmmm nope.” Peter mumbled to himself, swiftly shaking his head, “Nuh uh. Nope.”

Shaking with adrenaline, he glanced between your dead-eyed gaze, and his trapped foot. Okay! No problem-o! Not a problem at all. For an X-Man, zombies made an easy foe, right? Peter could totally just-...

Just vamoose! Make a break for it! Right now!

Like, now.

Peter hadn’t run away yet. Why hadn’t he run away? Hellllloooo? Ground control to Quickie! Time to make a quick exit, and head for the hills. Lest he become zombie chow.

Stunned, Peter remained petrified. In an uncannily slow movement, you rose from the pod like Nosferatu out of a coffin. Peter cursed under his breath, willing his terror to take a one way ticket outta there. He needed to come to his senses, and fast. Even as Peter tried to move, his paralyzed state caused him to fumble again. His movements lacked their natural fluidity, and his blood ran cold.

Like a total doofus, in his failed attempt to escape, Peter tangled his foot even deeper through the cables. Sometime in the last thirty seconds or so, he dropped his flashlight. Within the inky darkness, he could barely make out your shape as you moved. You groaned a long, croaky sound. Guttural, like an eldritch abomination.

Another crash of lightning showered your living corpse in a white luster. Peter made direct eye contact with you. A gaze between life and death.

A yell vibrated through his lungs and bounced off the walls of the room, as Peter finally screamed. Your slow moving, zombified body climbed from the pod much like a spider. Stumbling at first, you connected your bare feet with the dirty, tiled floor. Once you found your balance, a cracking sound erupted from your limbs. Your bones clicked and popped audibly into place. Peter scowled, physically cringing.

Another scream tore from the depths of his chest, “SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!” He shouted.

You dragged your feet in a limp, moving towards Peter with a slow gait. Stitched arms reached out for him in an unhurried motion, “ Luhhhhhhhh- ” You choked on a groggy gurgle.

Fuck. Fucking shit fuck. You definitely wanted to feast on his juicy brains and smooth flesh. No denying that. It had been, like, a decade since you last ate anything. And Peter probably looked like one hell of a snack right about now. Not even in a totally kinky way.

“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH! Hold yer horses there, baby! Yer gettin’ a liiiitttle too close fer comfort now! C’mon, huh? Do you really think I’m on the menu? ‘Cuz trust me. If yer gonna eat somebody? I shouldn’t be yer first choice! I really don’t taste all that great!” Peter yelled, throwing a hand out momentarily before returning to the tangled cables. He huffed an uneasy laugh, “SHIT! Yer not listening, are you? Ahaha! Yer gonna eat me. Totally gonna eat me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck-”

Peter tore at the cables wrapped around his foot. Acting as quickly as his petrified state would allow, he pulled the scalpel from his back pocket. But the dull razor’s edge refused to cut through the wires. Dropping the useless tool, he ripped into the cables one more time using all his strength. Only to free himself a millisecond too late. Always late. You lurched forward, making grabby hands.

Quicksilver vs. an actual, real life zombie. If he made it out alive, that’d make one helluva story.

But-

Wait a damn minute. Hold the freakin’ phone. Why were you…looking at him like that?

The glazed over eyes of a living corpse opened up, all big and doe-like. Gazing at Peter in - no mistaking it - infatuated fondness. Your supple lips parted with a wide smile of pure delight. Like sunshine peeking through hazardous, storm clouds. You leapt forward unexpectedly, squeaking a raspy squeal. Burrowing your face into the warmth of Peter’s chest, you linked your arms around his neck. Holding onto him tight.

“What the-” He whispered, looking down at your messy head of hair.

Uh. Okay. So, that just happened. Weird. Why weren’t you feasting on his flesh? Wasn’t he supposed to be your first meal since zombie hibernation, or something? Didn’t you wanna go chomp chomp chomp, and turn his guts into mush?

Peter realized, looking at you up close, you appeared perfectly clean and preserved. You didn’t reek like a dead body. The earthy scent on your cold skin wasn’t too unpleasant either. It smelled herbal. Floral, even. Your smooth skin lacked any signs of rot. Aside from one or two lesions revealing rib or arm bones. Kinda...freakishly cool. The surface of your skin looked see-through, with veins weaving underneath like intricate wiring.

A little spooky, sure. But not all that scary to look at, surprisingly enough. Not like Peter expected, anyway. As you snuggled closer into Peter’s body, he began to realize how oddly affectionate you were. Very out of character, for a zombie. You squeaked an unintelligible noise, attempting to communicate. But you just couldn’t form the words. Maybe your speech capabilities fizzled out after years and years of unending silence.

Peter creased his brows, lowering his defenses and calming himself down. Another thirty seconds passed. His brains remained intact, and you hadn’t made him your next meal. He pulled the earbud from his ear, hooking them around his neck and pressing pause on the Walkman. Craning your neck back, your glassy eyes met Peter’s own. You grinned so big and joyful, gleaming the innocence of a pure-of-heart, golden retriever. Despite being totally bizarre, Peter found your sweetness...sorta...weirdly cute.

“Uhmmm…hi? Hey. Uh-why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” He laughed, a little uneasy.

Maybe your affection stemmed from something simple. If Peter were locked up in a cramped pod for so many years, he’d be ecstatic if someone finally freed him. You were probably just uber thankful he’d broken you outta that pod thingy. And you showed gratitude through touching, since you couldn’t exactly flurry him with thank yous. He could accept that. Sure. For now.

The walkie hanging from his belt droned a buzz, and Scott’s voice called out. Peter finally reached for it, maneuvering between his body and yours. Your arms stayed around his neck, your body hanging like a stubborn monkey’s from a tree.

“Peter? Do you copy? Peter, are you there, man? Talk to us. Please. Should we send someone over to assist?” Scott asked, his voice itching with alarm. “Yeah! Yeah, nah. Uh-hey, Scotty! Hey, I’m here. I’m oka-...dude, it’s fine. Nothin’ to worry about. Seriously. But…I do kinda have a situation here? Over.” Peter replied.

Scott exhaled a relieved sigh on the other end of the line. In the crackling background of the walkie, Peter heard Jean’s voice. She asked, “Did he say over ?” Followed by a series of hushed chuckles. Peter smirked to himself.

“Oh! Oh my god. Thank goodness, Pete. We were all getting pretty worried about you over here. What’s going on? Are you still at the lab? You said there was a situation. What kind of situation? Did that old place finally cave in?” Scott asked. Many, many questions.

Peter heard even more frantic, muffled conversations in the background. While he couldn’t understand them, he recognized the voices. The entire team had gathered, just to make sure he made it out alive. Awww. How sweet. They were worried about lil ol’ him? If Peter hadn’t had the bejesus scared out of him not even five minutes ago, his heart would’ve melted.

“Heyyyy, guys! Uhhhh…soooo…I might’ve found, like, a zombie? No joke. Like, a real zombie. But it’s not tryna kill me. It’s-” Peter paused, raising a brow. You fluttered your lashes, giving him a coquettish look, “Bro, I think it’s makin’ eyes at me. Legit. Kinda weird, right? Definitely not what I was expecting. But it’s totally fine. I got it all under control now. Over.”

A long silence fell amongst the walkie’s noise. Until Scott finally responded in monotone.

“Did we hear you wrong, or did you just say you found a zombie?” He asked, his tone carrying a hint of disbelief. As if expecting Peter to say - Psych! Fooled ya!

Peter parted his lips to confirm. But the abrupt tickle of a chilly kiss on his neck silenced him. You stood up on your bare toes, giggling sweetly. Across his hot skin, you peppered your chapped lips. Instantly, Peter froze in place again. Shudders rang through his body. He reached for one of your arms, tugging you to try and pull you off him.

“Uhm. Y’know what? It’s no big deal. B-But yeah, it’s a zombie fer sure.” Peter tugged your arm with more insistence, urging you to let go. But you persisted, giggling into the crook of his neck, “Like I said. No worries here. It’s not like I’m in da- haaah okayokayokay-”

Your feather light kisses became soft, kitten licks. Flicking Peter’s flesh with your slimy tongue, you squealed, tickled pink. Peter jolted, shivers sizzling down his spine. He tilted his neck to the side, wincing. Over the walkie, he heard Hank’s gruff voice.

“Peter! It’s Hank-” The blue beast said, as if Peter couldn’t already tell based on his growly tone, “Are you a hundred percent sure the undead creature isn’t dangerous?” He asked, buzzing through a scratch of interference.

Coldness slathered and swirled Peter’s neck in slow circles. Fluttering his eyes closed, he replied, “N-Not dangerous. Ohhhh. Definitely not dangerous. No danger here. All good. Over.” Again, he tried to pull you off.

Your discolored arms tightened their hold around his neck and over his shoulders. Cooing noises dripped from your tongue like honey, so sugary sweet. You swiped his skin with your tongue, nuzzling your cold nose into the heated crevice of his neck. Pressing your body closer into his, you squirmed, littering him with zombie kisses.

Peter tensed, apprehensive of your affections. He didn’t want to be too harsh or aggressive towards you. Worried that any sign of conflict might make you snap. For all he knew, you might go bonkers and brain hungry. Really, he should’ve gotten it over with and pushed you away. Before you took things a little too far. And you did. Your teeth sank into his neck, lightly nibbling his flesh. As you pressed yourself even closer into his proximity, your breasts - covered only by a ragged crop top - met the swell of his broad chest. WOOOOOAH! Talk about twisted! Sure, okay, maybe your bites turned him on, like, a little. Flooding his body with a pleasant, all-over shudder of pleasure. But he couldn’t just fold for a zombie, could he? That’d be disgusting!

It’d be gross, right?

A subconscious desire in the recesses of his lonesome mind told him he wanted - no, needed - the attention. He hadn’t been intimate with anyone like this since the pogs fad. Easy, now, Peter! Down, boy.

But…shit. As much as he wanted to give in, he couldn’t. Not for a monster. A living corpse, left cooking in a secluded pod for a decade. Cloaked in discoloration and held together by expertly crafted stitching. Not entirely mindless, but so dense, you hadn’t the forethought to ask - “What happened? Where am I? Who are you?” No. Instead, you went after him the moment you saw him, showering him in bubbly, zombie lovin’.

He…shouldn’t find that hot. His fingers shouldn’t be tightening around the walkie, and his groin shouldn’t feel as scorching as it does. Oh, man. Could Peter be any more doomed? He’d have to be mad desperate - way out of his mind - to reciprocate your affection. Raising the walkie again, he cleared his throat.

“Hiya, Beastie. A-Acutally, I think they-...the zombie really, really likes me.” Peter added for no reason at all. You nibbled him a little harder, and he winced again.

“Well, now! That’s good then, isn’t it? Better than the alternative, I’d say! If at all possible, Peter, you should bring the creature with you. I’d like to look it over. Maybe run some tests. Figure out what brought it to life! This could be the secret to reversing brain death!” Hank chimed, excited.

Peter rolled his eyes. Of course Hank wanted to poke and prod at you like some little, lab rat. He opened his mouth to respond, but choked before he could get a word in. Your dull teeth clamped roughly into his neck. Peter braced a free hand on your hip, his thumb digging into the cool, exposed flesh there. Now, suspicion began to dawn on him.

You could be a clever, little zombie. Capable of luring Peter in with flirtatious wiles and sweet touches. Once he let his guard down, what if you planned on tearing into his guts? Well played, smarty pants zombie. Well played. But Peter caught onto your little game. You couldn’t get anything past him.

Instead of slurping his blood like a 7-Eleven slushie, or ripping your nails into his taut muscles; you suckled his skin lovingly. Pulling tiny hickies into his neck. Squealing and giggling in that girlish fashion, playful with every nibble. Peter gulped, biting his lip between his teeth. No way in hell he allowed a zombie to give him hickies.

…Except he did. So what? No harm in it, right?

“Y-Yeah. Sure. I’m good. Great. Just hangin’ out with my new zombie buddy. It’s totally not gonna eat my brains. Like, zero percent chance I’m gonna die an ugly, zombie death. So, y’know, Beastie, don’t lose any sleep over it.” Peter responded, before following it up with a condescending, “Over.”

On the walkie line, Peter heard a series of groans and faint giggles. Followed by Hank’s voice, as he passed the walkie back to Scott. The X-Men’s laser eyed leader sighed, his tone unamused.

“Whatever, Peter. Just…just hurry up, will you? And bring those documents over for Hank. Thanks.”

Peter tried, and failed to keep his composure. A cutie pie zombie kept macking on him like a lovesick puppy, and he had no clue what to make of it. You sucked more sloppy, violet marks into his neck. Tugging his skin with your teeth and nibbling like you couldn’t get enough of him. Peter’s skin flared up in cold creeps, as you trailed your chilly lips to his shoulder. Pulling his jacket and the collar of his shirt aside, you spoiled him in more undead affection.

“Gotcha. Copy that. Ov- mmm -” Peter whispered a moan, replying with a rushed, “Overandout.”

He clipped the walkie back onto his belt. Attempting once more to pry you off him, Peter gave your arm a strong tug. A little more forceful this time around. As you finally dislodged yourself from his neck, Peter took a few steps back. Avoiding any stray cables on the floor.

Now, with some distance between the two of you, he cleared his throat. Peter brought a hand to his neck, grazing fingers over the love bites you left behind. Tiny splotches of purple pooled with offsets of scarlet. Faint teeth marks left grooves in his skin. He hissed.

Giving you the freedom to pepper him with hickies might not have been the smartest idea. Hopefully, you didn’t infect him with some sick, zombie disease. One with the potential to end humanity as he knew it. He couldn’t cope with the weight of that responsibility on his shoulders.

You gawked up at him with those big, adoring eyes. Excitedly, you squealed, hopping towards him with your eager arms outstretched. Hoping to pull Peter into another close hug, just so you could litter him in more nibbly, love bites. He raised an abrupt hand, maintaining distance. Peter cleared his throat again. His cheeks burned hot, doused in bright pink.

Totally not fair, the way an overly affectionate zombie got him blushing.

“L-Listen. Uh. Yer sweet, but-” Peter started. Subconsciously, his gaze drifted down your body. He observed the stitches sewn into your neck and limbs. His dark chocolate eyes followed the rips and tears in your skimpy shirt. The flimsy garment revealed a tiny peek of your - admittedly pretty - breasts. And Peter swallowed, his throat running dry, “Uhhh…you can’t keep doin’ this, okay? The-” He wiggled his long fingers, gesturing to his neck, “The hickie thing. If yer gonna come with me, we gotta lay down some ground rules. Alright? You get me, babe?”

You tilted your head to the side, blinking slowly. Gazing at Peter with a look that told him you didn’t understand. But you didn’t seem to give a shit either way. You reached for one of his hands, a dazzled smile curling into your lips. Purring a candied noise of affection, you brought his hand to your cheek and nuzzled his palm. Your lips gently kissed each fingertip. Peter pulled a face, knitting his silver brows.

“Why’re you so damn-” He shook his head, “Whatever. Listen. Can you, like, chill out? No biting, you understand?” Peter paused to make a chomping gesture, clicking his teeth. But this only made you giggle. Which, unfortunately, he found super infectious.

Peter chuckled, scoffing playfully, “Stop that! I’m totally serious! No biting. No licking. No kissing. Like this. You see this?” He gestured to the hickies on his neck, their trail leading under his shirt, “No more ‘a that, you feel me? I dunno how I’m gonna explain this to the crew back home. They’re gonna think we got, like, freaky ‘er somethin’. Yeah. Can you imagine that? Like I’d ever fool around with-”

Fluttering your off colored lashes, you tilted your head to the other side. You parted your chapped lips, squealing as you edged his fingertips into your mouth. Pressing the salty pads to your bitter tongue.

“Oh! EUCK! Gross! Don’t-” Peter scowled, jerking his hand from you in less than a millisecond. With a horrified look, he observed his fingers as if they were germ-infested specimens, “Yer a real weird one, babe.”

His guard fell. While Peter kept his perplexed eyes on his fingers, you leapt forward. Burying your face deep into the fabric of his shirt, you squealed. Gleeful and bubbly. Peter groaned, only half-annoyed. He made a move to push you off him again. But your precious, little purring noises changed his mind. Peter couldn’t find it in himself to put his foot down.

Turns out he had a weakness. Cute, overly affectionate zombies. Who woulda thought?

Whatever. Peter had wayyy more important things on his plate. He knew he should gather up those folders he dropped, along with anything else he lost during his freak out session. Once he did, he needed to get the two of you out of this dingy, old lab asap.

“ Mmmmm …n-need…” You hummed your first word, before squealing, “Loooooove~!” Your voice strained, rattling like you’d been pounding down cigarettes by the plenty.

Peter’s eyes widened, and he let his sizeable hands fall to your hips, “Di-...wait a sec, did you just talk? Holy shit! You can talk?” Peter asked, dumbfounded, “Woah! Wow. Uh…so…you got a name? Can you at least tell me yer name?”

Your case file hadn’t listed your name, leaving you reduced to a number. Pretty messed up, if anyone were to ask Peter. Either you still didn’t understand him, or you couldn’t remember your own name. Instead of giving him an answer, you nuzzled your face in his chest. You tittered, so soft and smitten, your ragged voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Cold, tiny zombie hands tickled the back of his neck, raking gentle nails down his torso.

Standing on your toes, you connected your cool lips with his neck all over again. You kissed your previous love bites, as if doing so would heal them entirely. Ashamed of himself for letting it happen, Peter stifled a groan.

"Y-...You don't remember yer name, do you?" He mumbled. Peter's strong arms wrapped around your back, pulling you in, "That is...a seriously messed up situation. But, hey, I'm here fer you. Don't worry, 'kay? We'll get you to a safe place, and you can start over there. Sound good?" His caring nature shined through. But male horniness abruptly overshadowed it, as your wet tongue tickled his skin.

A guilty part of him, overrun with sympathy, felt bad for you. Those scientists hadn’t treated you like the victim of an unfortunate accident. More like a toy. Meant to be ripped apart, played with, and abandoned. It seemed wrong to perceive you in a frisky light. But then again…you wanted love. You may as well have been begging for it.

Love. One of the first words you spoke since your undead coma. Not that much of a surprise, if he thought about it. As a science experiment, loneliness probably consumed you. Even before your decade-long slumber. In a way, Peter understood. He too felt haunted by a longing for affection for far, far too long. In his mind, that made the two of you kindred spirits.

Ahhhh …dammit. Peter just couldn’t resist you and your sweet wiles anymore. His self control steadily slipped from his weakened grasp.

“ Mmmmm! Wa-....waaaant…love~! Neeeed… mmm …lo-....love~!” You squeaked, your cold tongue curling over a fresh, purple mark.

“C’mon, baby. We can’t-...you really have to stop this. We gotta head back to base, like, now. Everyone’s waitin’ on me, and I-” Peter muttered, and you pulled back. Gazing at him with that mystified, doe eyed look. Like you saw the beauty of the cosmos in him, and him alone. Your lips sparkled, wet from your lovin’. Peter clutched your hips firmly. His jeans seemed...somehow tighter all of a sudden, “Would ya stop lookin’ at me like that?”

“Looooooove~?” You cooed, your voice taking on a lustrous, but groggy tone.

“Yeah. I know. But…” Peter sighed, letting his hands feel up and down your curvy sides, “Yer gonna get me in soooo much trouble. But, fine. You win, okay? What kinda love are we talkin’ 'bout here, babe? You wanna hug? Want me to-uhm…to plant one on you? Is that it?”

You perked up then. Peter took it as a sign you understood him, more than you let on before. He arched a brow. At this point, why even hold back? Because you were dead? So what! Who ever said zombies couldn’t be smokin’ hot?

If he messed around with you just a little, no one would ever know. Which…made the concept even more enticing. You could be his little secret. An affectionate secret he’d forever bury in the ground. In place of the grave those scientists never gave you.

Peter fluttered his eyes closed, finally giving in to your closeness entirely. Lowering his big hands, he grabbed your ass. His palms squeezed over the torn, booty shorts you wore. Never did he imagine - upon exploring some horror movie, science lab - he’d feel up a cutie pie corpse’s plump bottom by the end. What a way to end a mission. Life worked in some wildly bizarre ways sometimes.

Kissing a zombie? Not as gross as he thought it’d be.

Okay. Maybe for, like, half a second. But the earthy taste on Peter’s lips didn’t faze him much. Once he pushed past the initial ick, he embraced you fully. Peter decided he didn’t give a flying fuck how unsanitary zombie smooches might be. Uncoordinated lip motions lured him in further. Pinkish teeth grazing his bottom lip between kisses. Soon enough, they turned sloppy, and Peter found himself frenching the living dead.

Zombie make out session. An experience he hadn’t planned to check off his bucket list. But now, he could.

One of his hands gripped your ass. While his other held your face and pulled you in for more tongue action. In the midst of swapping spit, you sought every opportune moment to nibble him. Peter couldn’t help but be super into it. You mewled softly, giggling when he gave your booty a hard squeeze. Chuckling, he parted from your lips to look over your greenish face. Your eyes bulged so big and wide, pupils an off-grey color and impossibly huge. Wonderstruck by his very existence. Darting down to capture your lips again, Peter stumbled forward. He guided your body towards the operating table, knocking you into it. Your hips collided with the edge, causing a loud, vibrating clang. The rough motion worried him enough, he stopped sucking face just to confirm you were alright. Peter feverishly kissed your cold lips, his hands exploring your body. Feeling stitched skin under his fingers.

You pulled from him with a joyous squeal, but Peter followed. Confused as to why you stopped, until you dove for the untarnished side of his neck. Dull flats of your teeth chomped straight into his flesh, grinding a little too roughly for comfort. Peter winced with a start, ceasing his love on your bootylicious bottom.

“N-No! Noooo! Hey, baby, look at me.” Peter snapped his fingers to get your attention. Not that he wanted to be so demanding. But you needed to understand his boundaries, before you tore into his flesh and guzzled his blood. Instantly, you reacted, retracting your teeth from his neck. You moved to make eye contact, and Peter fixed you with a soft gaze, “What’d I tell you, huh? Look, it’s not that I can’t appreciate some neckin’. 'Cuz I totally can. And I really dig it. Like, a lot. But you can’t be munchin’ on me! Really freaks me out when you do that.”

You angled your head again, curious. Doe eyes gaped at him with fluttering lashes, innocently confused, “ Mmm. Giv-....Giiiiive…love?” You croaked, pawing at Peter’s chest over his shirt, acting so needy.

He couldn’t begin to understand what you meant, or what you imagined love to be in your head. Were you really so desperate to bite him? Or, were you asking for something else? Wanton, bedroom eyes dawned your pretty face. Plush, ashy lips parting. You pawed his chest again, your blunt nails scraping across his shirt. In your desperation to communicate your-uhm…needs, you jutted your hips forward into his jeans. “L-L…Lo-” You started, throaty voice oozing innocence. Though, the look in your lidded eyes betrayed said innocence, “Loooooove. Need. P-Please?”

Peter’s eyes popped open, as realization dawned on him. Oh. You meant you needed-... Ah. He understood now. The unreasonably cute, living corpse he found - dormant in a pod for, like, a decade - wanted to bump uglies. Great. Awesome. What the hell was he supposed to do about that? Fulfill your unbridled desire? C’monnnn. Didn’t boning undead cuties come with any moral implications? If he took you to pound town, would that make him a necrophiliac? Peter really didn’t wanna be labeled a necrophiliac.

But hypothetically, what if he admitted his own desperation to himself? He always fumbled every time he tried to step up his game and woo the ladies. Not like he had any game to begin with. And tonight, there you were. Practically begging for him to take you. He should acknowledge the fact that, yeah - no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise - he found you very hot. So, ludicrously hot. Zombie traits and all.

And regardless of how many times he second guessed himself - at the end of the day - his dick didn’t have any qualms about zombie hanky panky.

Peter’s hand traveled up, thumbs curiously tracing the rough lining of your neck stitches. Before toying with the rusted bolts an inch or two above. Testing if you could even feel it. You didn’t react, and Peter wondered if scientists used those bolts to revive you. Did they awaken you Frankenstein style, with sharp surges of electricity? Or did you come to life by other means? A glowing, reagent liquid, maybe?

Hesitating for a fraction of a second, Peter tugged the front of your loose top down. A pair of off-green, zombie melons jiggled freely. Stitches circled each breast, and Peter may or may not have thought they looked hot as fuck like that. Call him inhumane, but he really dug your whole monstrous babe aesthetic.

His hands kneaded the softest pair of undead knockers he ever felt, making you squirm under his touch. Peter grinned, pleased with every choked squeak leaping off your lips. He flitted his dark gaze up to your face, then back down to your breasts; back and forth, back and forth. Admiring the delicate expressions you made, your precious face scrunched in pleasure.

“Damn. Anyone ever tell you how pretty you are? ‘Specially like this.” Peter chuckled, pinching and twisting your perky nipples, “Bet those bad guys never did. Sucks fer them. Yer a total babe. And sooo fuckin’ cute. Makes me want you all fer myself.”

Sooooo…about your…cooch situation. Yeah. Uh…Peter might’ve been somewhat worried about that. Taking your condition into consideration, he felt himself overcome with hesitance. Fearful that your-uh…flower, so to speak, may have withered away after a decade of darkness.

What about diseases? The thought made Peter squeamish. Even though you appeared and smelled relatively clean, you still hadn’t showered in a long freakin’ time. Then again, protection existed. Not to mention, you were so, so needy and cute. Your body looked undeniably amazing, and felt so soft. Fuck it. With some reluctance, Peter willed himself to test the waters. For your sake, but also for his own. Just to make up for the years he spent wishing he could get laid again.

A win-win for you both.

Tugging your tiny shorts down your smooth thighs - finding a little struggle along the way, since the meat of your thighs proved an obstacle - Peter snuck his fingers under the hem of your worn panties. The millisecond before his fingers met the supple curtains of your pussy, he second guessed himself for the zillionth time. Peter’s subconscious doubt pestered him enough, he almost withdrew his hand completely.

But the precious whimper you made gave him enough encouragement to keep going. His thick digits cautiously braved forbidden, undead territory. Finding an overabundance of cool, silky wetness between your lips. Peter swallowed hard, knitting his brows as he scoured for your clit.

“Jesus, baby.” He muttered. Judging by your bubbly squeak of delight, Peter assumed he found what he’d been venturing for. Leaning slightly forward into your proximity, Peter circled your stiff, little nub, “You want it bad, don’t you?”

“G-...G-....Gooooood! Mo-....More? More!” You mewled, clenching fists into his shirt. Mindlessly, you canted your hips, seeking his crotch. “Hey, it’s whatever you want, pretty.” He mused with a smirk, voice tender, “Relaaaax. I gotcha. I gotcha. ”

His fingers drew downwards, teasing for a beat before cruising into your silken entrance. Lush, deathly cold walls welcomed his digits in a loving hug. Beckoning Peter to sink them in deeper. You held his shirt like a lifeline, moaning an angelic, rattle of a noise. Pulling you closer into his warm body, Peter lowered his head to your shoulder. Thin strands of silver hair tickled your cheek. His thick fingers curled, hooking into a cushiony spot inside you. Your near-empty eyes saw hot flashes of light.

“L-LOOOVE~!” You whimpered through hitched cries.

“Mhm?” Peter laughed, impishly nibbling his lip, “Feel that lovin’? Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

Keeping you distracted for a temporary moment, Peter dotted your neck in warm kisses. Subtly easing his fingers in and out of your velvet pussy at a quicker pace. Your knees buckled, trembling the faster he moved. Until his motions became brutal. With a perfect curl, speedy digits rammed repeatedly into that spongy spot you loved. Your sugary sweet, unintelligible whines rose in volume, as your sticky, little, zombie cunt quivered.

You gnawed powerful bites as you came, your teeth digging into Peter’s neck. But this time, he allowed it. He forced himself to muscle through the pain, holding your shuddering body close, “ Shhhh. Shhh. It’s cool, baby. It’s - ahh - it’s cool. That's it.” He cooed with a careful tone, stroking the back of your head and threading fingers through your ragged hair.

Easing his fingers from your cunt, he double checked the digits, making sure nothing seemed off. Your release felt thicker and stickier than any living person’s, but didn’t have much of a scent. While usually he looooved to taste the aftermath of a total cutie’s orgasm, Peter opted not to. Sure, your wetness didn’t appear radioactive or hazardous. But the thought of guzzling zombie honey put him off a little bit.

“G-....Goood?” You ogled Peter with half-lidded, glassy eyes, your lips parting in an irresistible giggle.

Peter bit his tongue. Alright. Maybe he…could give it a shot. Just this once. Zombie love liquor couldn’t be deadly or anything, could it? Disease-ridden, maybe. But Peter knew a hyper-intelligent doctor who could whip up a cure for most ailments. Guess it didn’t matter anymore. By the time Peter second guessed himself yet again, he’d already sucked his fingers clean. A bitter thickness lingered on his taste buds. Peter salivated at the thought of drinking down more.

“ Mmmm … mhm …not bad.” He chuckled, lips humming around his fingers, "I'd go fer seconds." He added with a wink, making you laugh.

Yikes. If Hank only knew how reckless Peter acted in the presence of some zombified cutie. He’d lock him up in the infirmary and run a thousand tests on him. Just to make damn sure Peter hadn’t contracted anything lethal.

Politely pushing you off him, Peter turned his head. He double checked the perimeter for any signs of life, despite the lab being totally desolate. Hopefully Summers hadn’t sent anyone after him, since the speedster took way too long returning to base. Unbuttoning his jeans, he pulled his hard length from the fly. Almost immediately, you gasped in elation. Tickled squeals danced on your discolored tongue. Thick, and flushed a dark scarlet, Peter’s cock throbbed in his hand.

"I'm guessin' you like what you see?" He snickered, giving his dick a firm stroke, "I like what I'm seein' too...if you couldn't tell." Every word Peter said, every charming smile he gave, seemed to attract you considerably. Drawing more kittenish giggles from you.

With your freezing, zombie mitts, you ungracefully reached for him. Cold fingers squeezed his cock, stroking in a clumsy motion. Peter drew in a sharp breath, the cool sensation of your hands arousing his nerves. Even if your hand to gland combat lacked any skill, it felt damn awesome to be touched like this again. He stepped forward, his giant hands grabbing your hips. You played with him as much as your little, unbeating heart desired. Tugging his burning hardness with an overzealous grip.

You tried lowering yourself to the floor, your mouth falling open, tongue gliding over your lip. But Peter instinctively stopped you. His hands darted to your shoulders, pulling you into a standing position. He preferred if you didn’t take your biting addiction downstairs. Visitations of the oral variety were closed to any undead visitors. At least, for right now.

“Y’know, I don’t usually like goin’ all the way on the first date.” He spoke, fishing his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, “Like, call me an old soul 'er whatever.” Peter worked quickly, pulling a condom out of his wallet. He slipped the latex over his length, “But I can make an exception. Just fer you, cutie. But this stays between us, yeah?”

You nodded, pushing yourself up onto the dusty, operating table. Peter cringed, curling his lip out of concern for you. This couldn’t be sanitary. Dragging his attention from the filth under your bottom, you parted your knees. With your body angled backwards, you pointed eagerly at your panty-clad pussy. Soaked and dripping under the thin fabric. Peter’s breath hitched.

“Looooooove~? M-Ma…make?” You cooed, scooting a little off the edge of the table. As if tempting him to give in and fuck you already, you wiggled your ass. Like a beautiful, monstrous display of stitches and postmortem skin. All for the speedster's taking.

"I-I mean-uh...sure. If you really want me to. What kinda guy would I be to turn you down?" He awkwardly joked, fighting his nerves.

Peter pushed a strong hand against your inner thigh. Warm on your deathly cold flesh. He pulled your thin panties to the side, teasing your glossy slit with the head of his cock. You whimpered, cute noises bubbling in the back of your throat. Edging you for a beat more, he slid the teary eyed tip over your clit. Before sinking his length through your walls. Inch by pulsating inch, he bottomed out in a flash, tip kissing your cervix.

“ Wohhhhh, fuck.” He groaned. A new kind of coolness enveloped his cock, plushy and soft. Hooking your stitched legs over Peter’s shoulders, you tilted your body. Inviting him to submerge as deeply as your tight cunt would allow, “Oh, baby…yer so-...ah, fuuuuck. ”

"G……..Goo-......Gooood~!" You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut. Your strangled voice erupted in a mantra of lustful squeals.

By some act of divine intervention, Peter could feel the swollen, unyielding lusciousness of your pussy. Walls wringing his cock, like you wanted to suck him dry of everything he had. He swiftly rutted into your cunt, hard enough to make you bounce against the table. Peter’s sluggish eyes followed your breasts as they bobbed. Titties jiggling with such a soft, sexy whirl; He felt his cock twitch inside you.

Leaning down, Peter loomed over you, the rough fabrics of his clothes sliding along your bare skin. He kissed you tenderly, a little heedless. In the midst of fondling your precious, stitched breasts, Peter's hot palm curiously pressed against your chest. Feeling...nothing. No heartbeat, no blood flow. A little spooked, he refocused his attention. Playing with your bouncing, zombie titties again.

"Feels so-...you feel so good, holy fuck -" He moaned, his voice catching in his throat, "So pretty. L- ah ...love how tight you are." Playfully, Peter lost himself in the moment. He pulled a nipple between his teeth, suckling one of your Frankenstein tits, "Loooove these zombie boobies. Hah -oooohhh, shit-"

Lying in slumber for a decade must have left you majorly sensitive. In just a few more, aggressive, bunny humps; you came again. Hypnotic delight burst through your core, pushing you to the point of tears. Your pussy fluttered, sticky wetness gushing around his cock. Reaching up to link your arms around his neck, you clawed little etchings into his skin.

“M-Mmmmmooore~! More, mmm- ...more~!!” You pleaded, coaxing Peter to drill you with all the energy he carried. Not to toot his own horn, but - little did you know - he harbored enough energy for a hundred men. And then some.

"You w- fuck -want more? Want more, baby? God, yer gonna make me-" His voice wavered between moans, "G-Gonna make me lose it-"

Peter’s mischievous eyes met yours, as you gave him that doe eyed look he couldn’t fucking resist. Sharp jabs of his cock sped to a blur, slamming into your cunt in a brutal display of his strength. Keeping himself balanced, hands pressed to the table on either side of you; Peter showed no mercy. Abusing your precious, syrupy walls with a ruthless pace. But not fast enough that he’d tear his means of protection. A harsh surge of heavenly pain flared up inside you, as he tore into your pussy and bashed your cervix.

"LOOOOOVE~! Ah~! Peeeetur~!" In a moment of post orgasmic clarity, you called his name. Slurred, and barely recognizable. How'd you even know? Had you picked it up from his walkie conversations? Damn, his zombie buddy's more perceptive than he thought. Peter snickered, finding your pronunciation ridiculous. But the cute, needy sound of his name on your lips triggered something.

" ’Mgonnacum- ” Peter whined, his brutal pace more inconsistent and sloppy, “Gonna-...feels too good o h fuck oh fuCK -”

A pearly white burst of thick heat stuffed the latex of the condom full, threatening to make it pop. Burying his nose deep in the crook of your neck, Peter moaned. Guttural whines ripped from his chest, drying his throat. Panting - not from exhaustion, but overstimulation - Peter loosened his muscles. In mellow, post nut bliss, he almost overlooked the sizzle of static buzzing from his walkie.

“Peter? Peter, answer me right now. So help me god. Everyone’s worried sick about you! Do you read me? Peter, I said, do you read me? Please!” Scott pleaded through a mix of agitation and genuine distress.

Peter drew out a long, hard groan. Pushing himself up a little, he fumbled lazily for his walkie. A sluggish grin curled into his dimples, as he nibbled his lip and winked down at you. His eyes half lidded and hanging heavy.

“Mmmm…’M fine. ‘M fine. ‘M fine.” He chuckled, overcompensating for himself. He knew he’d be in mega trouble with the crew by this point, “It’s all-uh…all good. Jeez, Summers. Did ya think I was dead ‘er somethin’? Haha…” Peter drolled, his tone slower than usual. He withdrew his softening cock from inside you, watching while you squirmed. On your back, you appeared a blissful, fucked out mess. Ultimately satisfied. Mission accomplished, “Don’t worry so much, bro. I was only takin’ my new, zombie buddy out to-uh…tooooooo…an arcade. Yeah. An arcade.”

On the other end of the line, a silence fell. Peter filled it with an, “O-Over.” to compensate again.

“...You took the zombie…to an arcade?” Scott responded, an edge of irritated disbelief in his tone, “Peter, are you out of your damn mind? Do you not realize how much of a risk that is? I can’t even-...your priority for this mission was to retrieve those documents for Hank. Doesn’t it seem irresponsible to be dragging an unknown, undead creature around a public place? I can’t even believe you!” He heard Scott scoff, “Now, will you please return already with those documents? We’re all waiting on you. Bring the zombie too.”

“Uhhh…yeah. Sorry ‘bout that. Dunno what came over me. Sure. Okie dokes. Lemme, uh-” Peter spoke, playfully fighting you off. You reached for his neck, trying to pull him back down for post-sex cuddles, “Lemme grab ‘em. They’re goin’ hog wild with skee-ball right now. Crazy, right? They scored, like, sooooo many points. You should see all the tickets we got, man. We could totally get one ‘a those jumbo prizes. Say, Scotty, do you want, like, a giant Mighty Mouse?”

“Maximoff.” Scott replied sternly, without a beat of hesitation. His frustration oozed through the speakers, and Peter could feel guilt itching at his conscience.

In the background, Peter overheard someone - though he couldn’t guess who - mutter a, “Is Mighty Mouse even a thing anymore?” Oh. Once Peter returned, he’d be in for it. Royally fucked. Figuratively, and, thankfully, literally. In the short, momentary instance of silence between walkie communication; Peter disposed of the condom and straightened himself out. He disappeared for a millisecond, snatching a fresh towel from some luxury bath shop all the way in Paris. Dousing the cloth in warm water, he wiped you clean upon his ultra speedy arrival. Before helping you redress, making you look…somewhat presentable.

“Fine. I totally get it, okay? Look, man. I’m sorry. But can ya really blame me fer wantin' to hang after the experience I just had? Doesn’t matter. Be there in a flash. M-Maybe don’t tell Hank, though. If you can hel-” Peter rambled sheepishly, slinging the towel over his shoulder. He stepped backwards, extending a hand for you to take.

“Pietro Maximoff, I am beside myself with you!” Hank started, clearly agitated, cutting Peter off.

Peter groaned, mumbling quietly to himself as you took his hand, “He told Hank. He did it. He fuckin’ told him. Shit. I’m so fucked. I’m so, so fucked.” In a motion to guide you off the operating table, Peter pulled you forward by your hand.

“I have several questions. Why would you bring an undead creature to an arcade? What were your motivations behind taking the creature out, on a recreational activity? The potential danger or damage to the arcade and its patrons is far too high. And, furthermore, Peter, is there any scientific value to observing a zombie around arcade equipment? I understand you have this insatiable need to act out, but this is ridiculous! It is our duty, as members of the X-Men, to protect humanity from all threats. Including potential zombie related incidents at public arcades. Now then, please return the specimen immediately for further observation.” Hank ranted on and on and on and on-

A noise, like fabric tearing, cut uncomfortably through the air. Weak stitching around your elbow ripped loose, and Peter pulled your forearm clean off. Hank’s tirade met an abrupt end, as a blood curdling scream rocked the entire room. “Peter? Peter?? What’s happened? Peter, are you alright?” Hank panicked over the walkie.

Past the edge of terrified, shocked to the point of nearly pissing himself; Peter screamed. He wiggled his hand, trying to let go of your lone arm. But your hand held his tightly, your grip refusing to ease up. Once he finally freed himself, he expected your arm to drop to the floor. But your little fingers moved, crawling like spider legs. A zombie’s dislodged arm creeped up Peter’s shoulder over his jacket. Some real, Evil Dead kinda shit. He smacked at it, shouting like a housewife frightened by a mere mouse.

“YEAH!I’mfineI’mgreatI’mawesomesorryit’snothing.” Peter responded, rushed and unclear, “O-Over?” He cringed, scowling as you hopped off the operating table to retrieve your missing arm.

“...Pardon?” Hank asked, tone puzzled. Peter swallowed, shuddering while you pulled your freakish, deadite arm off his shoulder, “Are you…sure you’re alright, Peter? What’s going on? You’ve been acting awful strange tonight. Is there something on your mind?”

A lot. Peter had so much on his mind. Like, the totally real fact that he boned an undead, Frankenstein babe, for one.

“Uhm. It’s-...it’s nothing. Seriously, don’t even worry, Beastie. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Just-uhm…lab’s still-...there was some thunder, and the building-uh-” Peter nervously rambled, struggling to find his words, “Over.”

Another pause drew out long enough for Peter to realize his mistake. He cursed, smacking himself on the side of the head. How could he be scatterbrained, to forget his own lies in a matter of seconds? He had a feeling, deep in his gut; Hank would rip him a new one tonight once he got back. “...The lab? Peter…didn’t you just tell us you were at an arcade?” Hank asked, reasonably suspicious.

Peter’s voice broke as he replied, “I mEAN-” He cleared his throat, “Uhhh-...heh. I-I ran back! Forgot-uh...there was somethin’ I forgot. Like I said, doesn’t matter. I’m totally fine! I’m juuust peachy! Hang tight. I’ll be right there. Over and out.” Peter took a second to collect himself, clipping his walkie to his belt. He silenced the device, ignoring any further questions from Hank. Subconsciously, Peter took a step back as you reached for him again. His veins vibrated with a buzz of adrenaline. With your arm dismembered, you moved abruptly forward. Nuzzling your face into Peter’s chest, the same way you had all night. Still just as smitten with him. Groggy purrs rumbled in your throat.

Rolling his eyes, Peter patted your head, smoothing out your ragged, messy hair, “What am I gonna do with you? Yer nothin’ but trouble, y’know that?” He teased, pinching one of your cold cheeks, “Whaddya say we get outta here already? But I gotta make a couple ‘a pit stops. And you gotta behave yerself. Don’t get any funny ideas about eatin’ anybody.” Peter wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you close. Pointing at you with an accusatory finger.

You tilted your head, confused again. Peter really couldn’t get enough of that cute, clueless look. Hank and Scott had no idea what they were talkin’ about. His zombie buddy? Totally harmless. You’d never even hurt a fly.

Okay. First order of business. Find a Mighty Mouse plush, just to really sell his arcade story. After that, he planned on snatching you some nicer clothes. Anything to protect your modesty. Thirdly, Peter wanted to teach himself some gnarly makeup tricks. Cover up his hickies. Yeah. No sweat! He could do all that in a flash.

Oh. And late night pancakes. Peter refused to skimp out on those. He’d been craving them all night, and his body desperately needed to replenish its energy. Surely, the gang back home wouldn’t mind. After everything, they totally wouldn’t be supremely pissed and fed up with Peter’s bullshit. And the waitress serving at whatever diner he picked? She wouldn’t bat an eye at some undead, zombified customer, would she?

Why's he even kidding himself?

Gathering Hank’s files, Peter tucked them under his arm. He zipped around in search of whatever other knick-knacks he lost, including his fallen flashlight. Stepping towards you, Peter brought his earbuds to your ears. He exchanged the tape in his Walkman for another, aiming to keep you entertained with music while he traveled at superspeed. As soon as the tune graced your ears, you leapt in place. Squeaking a surprise chirp. Your shoulders bunched, and you darted your hazy eyes around.

“Hey, easy, easy-” Peter reassured, cranking the volume down low so you could still hear him, “It’s just music, baby. It’s nice, right? You like it? You like-uh…you like the Monster Mash? Crypt Kickers? Bobby Pickett?” He gestured with his hands, suggestively raising his brows, “We had a graveyard smash, didn't we, eh?” You simply stared at him, clueless as usual. Huffing, Peter pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Seriously. What am I gonna do with you?”

You clutched your dislodged arm tight, cradling the appendage close. Throwing a quick glance your way, Peter shook his head. He pulled his goggles over his eyes, and braced a warm hand at the back of your neck. The few seconds before he took off, he leaned in close. Hearing that Halloween melody playing from the earphones you wore, he quietly sang along.

As much as he liked cuddling ‘Ro on Halloween, horror movie nights; A new idea crossed his mind. He might just snuggle up on the couch with someone special this year.

#peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x reader #txt

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so-very-small · 1 year

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What would you say is your favourite aspect of g/t?

idk if this is the answer ur looking for but im obsessed with the Psychological Weight of g/t, if that makes sense

like being a borrower, you are living in a world that is not meant for you. unless you’re very careful and very lucky, every day will include constant life threatening scenarios on top of housing and food instability. and then going into having to live constantly on the outskirts of humans - giant beings who live an absolutely incomprehensible life, who are entirely unaware of your existence for better or worse.

the loneliness, the instability , the danger, that would fundamentally alter a person, growing up and living like that. the ways borrowers would view and feel and think would be massively different than any normal sized human. i love getting into THAT. the deep down effects

even with like, a suddenly shrunk person. suddenly having to see the world in this alien light, normal mundane tasks become laughably impossible. you’re stripped of your freedom, your usefulness, the majority of your autonomy. you might have a giant willing to say, take you to the store and get you crackers, but that simple task would be unfathomable alone

and like, meeting a giant? being held and realizing you’re massively outsized - nothing you can do to this person before you could hurt them, or stop them. depending on the circumstances, you might even have to fully put your trust into a giant being you just met, do not know the intentions of, but know that whatever happens now is in their hands. even if they listen to you and are nice, there’s still that undeniable power difference, and i love going into how that would effect both the tiny and giant in these dynamics, both short and long term

i totally get why these aren’t gone into more often - they’re heavy, and sometimes you just want fluff. but the psychological and emotional effects of interacting with a giant, man. i’m OBSESSED. there’s SO much possibility there

#g/t #giant tiny

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theriu · 6 months

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Also for the Seven Characters Ask: Jonathan, Mina, Lucy, Seward, Quincy, Van Helsing, and Arthur from Dracula.

Ooo dangit I haven't been doing the reread so here's hoping I remember enough things from last year and the memes XD

Go grocery shopping with: Lucy. I just want to get that girl out of her house. She's so rich and sheltered, she'd probably find the whole experience exceedingly charming and distracting.

Have lunch with: Arthur. He seems nice, although I don't know exactly how we would get on, but I bet he would pick up the tab like the rich gentleman he is and we would have a nice time. :D

Have coffee with: Jonathan. I think he needs the break, honestly. And he might find a coffee or tea or hot chocolate he really likes and draw out some of his suppressed-by-trauma foodie instincts!

Go thrift shopping with: Mina! Being from a middle/lower-income background and also being a very fun and chill and supportive person, I think she'd be great at this sort of thing!

Explore a museum/art gallery/aquarium with: Van Helsing. I bet he would know all sorts of interesting facts at a museum and only some of them would be made up or totally incomprehensible! :D

Go the library/bookstore with: Seward, if only to get him out of his mental hospital. I would also ban him from the psychology section, maybe see if I can get him to read some lighthearted comic books.

Have as a plus-one at a wedding: Quincy, I am positive everyone would love him and I would be proud of bringing someone so fun and interesting to the event. :D But assuming he is around the same age as me, I would once again have to gently let down people who are all hopeful I have found a man XD (See Hardison in my last reply) (Although IDK, maybe in an alternate reality where Quincy lives, who knows?)

#river replies #taleweaver-ramblings #dracula daily #ask game

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thedawningofthehour · 7 months

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Hi!! Yes, hello, I cried again, thank you for that. Even though you said we „shouldn’t expect too much“, my heart is still very much cracked haha

ANYWAY, since the guessing game is still on, I was thinking a lot during this chapter. My guess is, either Raph has a really stupid idea that he‘s thinking through right now and that‘s why he‘s been so quiet OR smth happens to the Hueso place and he like sacrifices himself to get his family to escape like idk maybe EPF or smth knocks at the door and he holds them off

And so I was wondering if you could tell us when this stupid thing is gonna happen, I have a feeling it might be like the book 2 finale or somewhere close to that??

ALSO, I was wondering how you organise your chapters and the plot you write about. Do you have like a pinboard and put the NYC map on it and connect the dots with red yarn? (Detective style) or do you use some program or are just…weird and memorise it all?

Maybe he hasn't actually had the stupid idea yet, but he's definitely ruminating on everything that eventually compels him to make that decision.

The stupid thing will be a direct consequence of the final climax, so it'll be coming up here soon. I'm going to put up a poll probably after the next chapter.

I'm giddy that we're getting there, honestly. There's a foreshadow I put in literally in the single-digit chapters of Book 1 and when I wrote that I couldn't imagine actually getting to that point. I always feel like I'm going to die or something before I finish stuff, like, I was shocked when I finished doth.

Oh my goooood I am so terrible about plotting and outlines and stuff. I always, always feel like I'm in elementary school filling out a worksheet. I am basically this guy

except there is no paper because I haven't written anything down I'm just sleep deprived and rambling and smoking copious amounts of weed. (I have never smoked weed)

I know generally how the plots go, and as chapters draw closer I start thinking more specifically about where parts should go and where they would fit best. The whole war kick-off thing, that originally was going to happen after the third reverse-kidnapping, (the mall with the mercenaries one) but Gale and Mikey were still having their library trips, and that just seemed like an...awkward thing to have hanging over them. And it just didn't have to be. I could have cut that arc short, delayed the third reverse-kidnapping until after after the library meetings were discovered, or I could push off the war. And the war didn't need to happen then-if anything, it complicated the other plot points that needed to happen. And I think it worked out for the better this way.

I'm not totally satisfied with this method though. When I was writing Book 1, I had probably about half the fic written before I started posting-it was all in one document, Donnie's scenes were all together and Leo's scenes were in some incomprehensible order and often unfinished because I wasn't expecting to post anything and would just stop when I felt like it, when I finally committed to putting it to order I think I had like eight documents open at one point and three different highlighter colors to denote what I'd done in the master document, it was an ORDEAL-but it meant that I could group scenes together based on what was most effective, move things around very easily. The fact that Leo and Donnie's chapters were pointedly not happening at the same time helped a lot too. In Book 2, I end up writing with two, maybe three chapters planned ahead in my brain, and I feel like that forces me to sometimes rely on short-term climaxes that add to the word count but don't really do much for the story overall, or put off certain things that I don't particularly feel like writing at the time or don't know would work there. Book 2 would probably be significantly shorter if I'd plotted it out the way I did Book 1.

...What were we talking about? Oh! I do actually have a map of NYC open pretty much constantly in my fic window, it probably shows when they were driving around last chapter that I was literally going along the border with my pointer finger. But I'm terrible and I don't write any of this shit down. I usually remember, but there have been occasions where I've completely forgotten what I was going to do, and I think it was chapter 32 where I had pretty much finished the rest of the chapter and then realized I'd forgotten the final Leo scene-which was a pretty major scene. So I guess...yeah, weird and memorize sounds correct, but I don't actually do it that well.

#if you can parse anything here bless you #i wasn't planning on typing this much so it's very much stream of consciousness #doth asks

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rriavian · 3 months

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hello op i hope it brings you some joy to heard that i just discovered your fics today and has already devoured like 80% of them all. it's 3am and i'm procrastinating on everything in this life but i Need to let you know

ADVGAJEAIEKBDHAHUUFHRKFG THEY ARE SO GOOODDDDDD!!!!!!!!!

i'm a total newbie to the sandman fandom (just over a week i think) but i have not read such enticing depiction of dream before as those in your fic omggggggggggg (like just a being experiencing worldly exp from, the left, i looooovvveee him like that, sorta like spock if you get what i mean. i'll need to get Your dream out of my head before i can read other fanfics now i think)

and like, not just dream but also depiction of sub roles like that before

i don't read d/s much because the dom behaviors are usually ok but sub are usually too much for me (my uncomfortable relationship w showing vulnerability me think)

but your fics! omg i love love how he 'acts' submissive for cori, because he holds incomprehensible powers and 'letting himself go' like that is no hair off his head. like idk idk not lucid enough to express this but woooo. like it allows me to see how the one being submissive can hold just as much power in the scene as the dom and it makes so much sense now.

bottomline is, i love all of your fic so much gaaahhhhhh thank you for blessing the fandom w them!!!! hope all good things happens to you and have a nice day!!!!

(if i can stop procras and get my stuffs done, and then my head no longer feels like cotton i'll prolly send a more coherent rant. hope i don't sound rude up there or anything.)

This brought me so much joy to read!! I am so so happy that you’ve been enjoying my fics!! I procrastinated many life things while writing them so definitely understand the distraction

Welcome to the fandom! I hope you’re enjoying it all so far <3 I’m so happy that you like my depiction of Dream…he’s very special to me and I try very hard to write him well. The ways in which he experiences the world are always fun to explore, and I wanted to make them distinct from how human characters are written to be as accurate as I could. The Sandman does a great job of showing the possibilities of how the personification of dreams might experience existence.

It’s one of the things that really pulled me into the show. Dream’s nature as an Endless always really compels me!

I have a similar feeling towards d/s, because I find that as a dynamic it can feel very unbalanced. Very much personal preference but...I think I tend to dislike the binary of it? It can feel too easy. There’s a trend where d/s seems to divide certain traits into a strict definitions as if they will always mean the same thing. It then applies those definitions to characters that are seen to match. I have trouble enjoying that. Maybe it’s because I don’t like how showing vulnerability/allowing vulnerability/giving up control is often implied to be intrinsically submissive.

Just reminds me of some of the ways society views expressing emotions, or even expressing a need/want. Certain types of expression/needs are determined to be strong, and others weak, and I see that reflected in d/s quite a lot. Personally I find something icky about it.

Part of the reason why I started writing for this pairing was to explore the complexities of these dynamics. Yes Dream might take on the more stereotypically ‘submissive’ role when I write sex, but why do we think that its submissive? And does it really mean that? If not then what can it mean? I really like to challenge the idea that it’s a position without power :) And also! I like exploring what a being like Dream gain could from it? What could his interest be?

Dream likes to challenge the Corinthian’s view of submission too. And they both like to play around with potential meaning while being well aware that it’s a game between the two of them. Sometimes the Corinthian finds that frustrating, but he also plays the game as much as Dream does :)

I hope this makes sense! I wrote a post about power dynamics within my writing ages and ages ago that probably explains some of this a bit better (been meaning to update my pinned post to link to it for a while so will dig it out!).

Ok this got super long but ahhh I'm just so humbled by your words! Thank you so much for the ask!! Please feel free to send another if you would like to (no pressure if you don't though!) <3

#rria answers #corintheus #reading this meant so much to me #thank you for being so kind!#it's always wonderful to know people enjoy my fics!!#fic meta #kinda #rria rambles about writing

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annyankers · 2 years

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TOP SECRET first chapter of the dangerous/savvy spuffy fic bc i need thoughts on how to progress.

basically need to get us from here to fool for love. have been considering a pit stop in out of my mind bc the fight would be interesting in this universe and you know the Revelation. would involve more with joyce's stuff and maybe a visiting neurosurgeon who gets kidnapped instead the Riley Stuff bc the kindest thing i can do for riley atm is just not draw him.

feel free to gimme thoughts in replies/answers/dms idk whatever works for you!

(chapter under the cut. barest editing has been done)

If there was something Buffy had learned over the years of her being the Slayer it was that the minds of vampires were alien compared to humans, but unlike other demons they weren’t totally incomprehensible. She’d spent enough time around them — hell she’d even dated one— to see that there was a logic and it was one you could follow and understand to what they did. And that understanding was part of the silent agreement she’d had with Spike since last year.

Chip or no Spike was dangerous and once they’d learned more about the Initiative and learned he could hurt demons she should have killed him. That was the responsible slayer thing to do. But she didn’t because she knew Spike well enough to know what his interests and goals were. He wanted the chip out before he left Sunnydale because out in the world there absolutely humans who could take out a vampire, like hunters and necromancers. He couldn’t rely on minions and his reputation for his own personal protection forever, eventually one would turn on him or fail. He stuck with Buffy’s side because he knew that of the two of them she was the one more likely to get access to the kinda people who could do brain surgery. Also he knew that if he left to go and explore his options elsewhere she’d have Willow track him down and Buffy would stake her himself before he was halfway to LA.

Spike was her responsibility and it was her job to balance keeping him on a tight leash and letting him loose to blow off some steam.

Her break up with Riley last year had been well timed (and embarrassingly prompted by Spike knocking sense into her. She hadn’t even wanted to date Riley in the first place! Why had she gone with it!?) things hadn’t gotten so serious that it was painful or messy and they were still in contact in that “we’re in the same business” kinda way. Likely in Spike’s mind with a bit of time and buttering up they could get the chip out which hey, probably had a point there. She idly considered it again, if that was a route she should take, but opted once again to leave it in limbo for now. Right now the pressing issue in her mind was that Dracula was in town and wanted to get chummy. She’d already had a Scooby meeting with the gang over what they knew about him but now it was time for her to hit up her other well of knowledge.

The Scoobies weren’t exactly privy to the depth of her and Spike’s agreement, how much she actually talked to him and how much weight she put on his opinion. Spike didn’t get to where he was as a Big Name Vampire by being stupid or bad at vampiring. She liked to pick his brain on all kinds of things, there was only so much of it she actually put stock into of course. He might be technically her ally but they both knew he was the de facto Big Bad of Sunnydale since there wasn’t anyone else around currently who could actually wrangle anyone around here. Kinda made her miss the mayor sometimes, at least he put civic works on his list of evil schemes.

As it stood she was pretty sure the only person who got that she and Spike were the two biggest fish in town and that they acted like it was Giles, who took whatever info she relayed without always naming her source with a kind of knowing silence.

She barged into his Crypt, Spike looked up from where he’d been watching TV.

He raised a brow at her. “Yeah Slayer? Need something? Kinda busy here.”

She didn’t waste her breath. “So it looks like Drac’s in town and he’s looking to get a bite of Buffy Pie. You know anything about him?”

Suddenly Spike was interested. “He owes me 11 pounds for starters.”

Buffy’s eyebrows shot up. “Dracula owes you money?”

“Yeah.” Spike lit a cigarette. “Fucker.”

“So you know Dracula?”

“Yuuup. We're old rivals. But then he got famous, forgot all about his foes. I'll tell you what. That glory hound's done more harm to vampires than any Slayer. His story gets out, and suddenly everybody knows how to kill us.”

“Okay so what can you tell me about him? He’s got like, wizard powers I know that, he kept poofing when I tried to stake him.”

Spike waved a hand dismissively. “Low level parlor tricks he learned from the Rromani. The real threat’s his thrall. Bloody powerful.”

“Noted. Any ideas on where to find him so I can make him poof permanently?”

Spike raised a brow at her.

“He’s here for you pet, isn’t that what you said? You don’t have to worry about looking for him. He’ll come to you. And he’ll keep coming until he gets what he wants which I’m guessing is you as part of his ridiculous harem.”

Buffy groaned. “ Gross. Well do you have any anti-thrall tips?”

Spike got up, turning off the tv and going over to where he’d thrown his coat.

“None I’d be willing to share with you but I’ve got a better idea anyway. We head back to yours, you go about the end of your night as normal and when Drac comes to ply his cheap seduction I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.”

“Oh you are now?”

“Damn right. First off— I want my money. Second— it’s an insult to my reputation that he thinks that he can come into my territory and go after my prey. Like I can fucking let this shit stand—”

He walked right past her to the door and she followed, half amused. She probably should be offended by him calling her “his prey” but she got what he was saying. This was his town as much as it was hers, he was the head black hat around here and if anyone should be getting the slayer murdering trophy here it was him not some tourist who cropped up on the hellmouth just to get an “I killed the slayer and made her my vampiric consort” t-shirt. Buffy was with him there— well not that Spike had murdering her rights, but that there was no way she was gonna let some out of town vamp make a mess out of her perfectly nice hellmouth for his own fun.

Which is how she found herself in the deeply weird position of now trying to fall asleep while Spike sat in her chair.

“Is this really necessary?”

“Oh yeah. You’re his target. He’ll be through that window by the end of the night mark my words and when he does I’ll be there to rip his poncy head off for disrespecting me again.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and flopped back into her bed trying to get comfortable and ignore Spike’s presence in her room and get some sleep. Or at least be less suspicious bait.

The thing was that last time she’d been this serious about dealing with a vamp it’d been Spike last year. He’d chased her around Sunnydale like the freaking terminator with his stupid anti-vampire damage decoder ring. A ring which she was keeping safe in this very room. For a brief moment when they’d all been looking at it on Giles’ coffee table she thought about giving it to Angel but then she remembered Angelus and the thought died. She wasn’t thrilled with Angel and how that relationship had ended but if he ever lost his soul again while he had a ring that made him indestructible it would be a nightmare. She’d give it back to Spike before she let that happen. She didn’t know how the whole chip situation would react to the ring and honestly she didn’t want to find out. She hoped Spike wasn’t much for snooping.

Somehow eventually, maybe from the sheer power of boredom, Buffy fell into a half doze only to startle awake what felt like a minute later.

There were now two weirdly dressed vampires in her room. Spike and Dracula who he was blocking from getting to her.

“Hey Drac. Funny seeing you here after all these years. Come to pay me back those 11 pounds?”

“Spike. Why are you of all vampires in a Slayer’s bedroom? I didn’t think you had sunken to killing your prey in their sleep.”

Oh shit he did know Dracula. Wow.

“Oh come off it. I’d never.” She could hear the smirk in his voice. “It’s just that this one’s mine and I couldn’t help but notice you coming into my town to try and steal my fun. I’m the Slayer of Slayers mate. You’re a kid’s birthday magician.”

“Mind your tongue!” Dracula scowled looking from Spike to Buffy and back. “If she is your prey then why is it that you can enter her home and she is not yet dead?”

Spike’s smirk turned to a grin. “Cause half the reason I like goin’ after Slayers is I like the fight and this one’s got lots of it. No fun killin’ her just yet when there’s plenty of good fight to be had, though I’ll admit after getting a taste I reconsidered on that one.”

Dracula’s eyes bored into Buffy until Spike moved between them again, likely to protect her from his thrall.

“Course. Nearly took out her jugular last year. Fuckin’ ambrosia. Been a tic since the last Slayer I ate but she’s even sweeter than I remembered.”

There was a hungry look now in Dracula’s face. “You have tasted her?”

“I have. And I will again. Only vampire who will. Slayer’s out of your league. Their blood’s top shelf and not for overdramatic twits like you— it’s something you ought to earn, the taste is.” Spike put a hand on Dracula’s chest. “ Well that’s for me to know and for you to never find out mate.”

Dracula’s eyes burned as they snapped to Spike. “You dare to touch me?”

“Fuck yes I dare.” She could hear the crunch of Spike’s bones. “And I’ll do more than that two you overrated sideshow. Fuck off back to Transylvania this Slayer is mine.”

“You are not worthy of being her equal. To teach her of her own darkness.”

That seemed to set something off in Spike and his hand on Dracula’s chest became a fist, twisting into his blouse. His other one was balling into a fist as well, getting ready to sock him.

“I’ll say it again one more time. The only one who makes her neck their chalice is me. Fork over the cash and fuck off back to your Eastern European shithole of a castle.”

Dracula looked scowling from Spike to Buffy who was now wielding a stake from under her pillow. She wiggled it as she quirked a brow.

“This is not over.” He spat.

“Yeah I think it is.” Spike drawled.

Then poof! Dracula was all misty and floating out her window.

“That’s all the big name Dracula time I get? That was anti-climatic.” Buffy griped.

“Yeah and if it had been climatic your furniture would’ve been the first casualty.” Spike said as he plopped down onto her bed.

“Never mind. Anti-climatic good.”

Spike snorted. His face was still demonic, yellow eyes glinting at her from the shadows of a bone white head. It didn’t send chills down her spine like it did even just a year ago but it didn’t put at her ease either. She’d listened to everything Spike said and knew that while, yeah sure, it was posturing he meant what he said. One day their truce would be done and one of them would end up dead. Spike had a vested interest in keeping other vamps off her in situations like this because he wanted first, middle and last crack at her. Buffy dropped her stake back onto the bed.

“Didn’t even give me my money before he scarpered.”

“And that really is the worst part of his visit to turn me into his vampire harem ho.”

Spike nodded. “Thank you for recognizing that.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Okay I’m gonna try and get some actual sleep now.”

“Right I’m going to stay here a bit, make sure he doesn’t think he can circle back after I’m gone and get in a quick thrall.”

“In the room or the house in general?”

“I’d just say the house but with our luck I leave to watch a bit of telly and he’ll be in here the second I close the door.”

“Yeah true. Sounds about right for my luck.”

“You look for his posh mansion or whatever he’s got in the morning and I’ll get some minions tomorrow night to do a bit of tracking on our end.”

Spike got up and purused her bookshelf before pulling one off, she couldn’t really see what he’d picked in the gloom. He sat down again and cracked open the book, settling in to read. Spike didn’t really keep minions in the traditional sense, but he did consider any vampire living in Sunnydale to have tacitly agreed to being his minion by the sheer fact they lived here and he wasn’t afraid to bully them into doing his shit work.

“Right.” Buffy flopped back down into her bed. “Night for real this time I guess.”

“Yeah, sweet dreams Slayer.”

---------------------------------------------------

Honestly the whole Dracula thing ended up being kind of a let down. The most interesting part really had been Spike’s stand off with him. It had real soap opera vibes compared to the low budget d-movie vibes raiding his mansion had had. Guess that’s how it always is when you meet a celebrity. They just never held up to the hype.

The thing that was really worrying her was her “hunting” as Dracula called it. Which was— yeah. That’s what it was.

It seemed like every year she got a little more Slayery but something about whatever they did with that spell during the last apocalypse had kicked it into overdrive. She felt wild sometimes, primal. Like all her hungers were just More now. Sometimes she almost felt out of control while also completely in control. Like she was the calm and the storm. It made no sense at all. She’d talked to Giles about starting up her training again. If that spell, the dreams after and her new found urges taught her anything it was that she didn’t know enough about what she even was. What really was the Slayer? How was she made? Who did it? What was she at the end of the day? Human? Half something else? Human plus a spell? What did that mean for her? Did it even matter?

Frankly it was a whole can of worms she’d been actively trying to avoid since she’d found out about Kendra being called. How was she still the slayer if the slayer juice or whatever had moved on? How’d it work? What were they? She didn’t have any answers. Just the feeling like she was two things in one body pulling in different directions but also the same thing all bound up in itself just like it should be.

Buffy prowled the cemetery looking for prey to take out her endless mental circling on. She came across some vampires and tore into them with ease. Enjoying the burn of working muscle as she decimated them with hard-won skill and natural power. It was over fairly quick but satisfying enough she might actually get some rest now. Then she noticed Spike, leaning against a mausoleum and watching her with that burning stare. She’d sensed him but hadn’t actively noted him, her subconscious or whatever not seeing him as a threat she guessed. A dangerous habit to form.

She walked over and he met her in the middle.

“Times like this I wanna crack my bloody skull open and rip the chip out myself.” Spike’s voice was low and rough, his eye’s burning hungrily. “The things I’d do to you Slayer.”

Everything about that sent a tingle through Buffy that she was pretty sure was left over from her weird slayer hunting urge that was only just dying down.

“Yes, I know Spike. You’ve got lots of wicked bad evil plans to do terrible horrible things to me if you ever get your capacity for human murder back.”

He brushed some of her hair back behind her ear. A power move she steadfastly ignored.

“What’s got you out here in the dead of night Slayer? Isn’t it well past your beddy bye for a night like tonight?”

Buffy shifted and looked to the side. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He grinned slowly. “Not enough blood in your teeth?”

She glared at him. But he ignored it.

“Happens to me sometimes. Don’t get in enough violence in my day and it feels like my skin’s gonna come bursting off. Gotta get in a couple of kills before I can finally tuck in. Rip out some throats and all that. Practically demon nature.” He looked her over with interest. “Suppose it makes sense it’s Slayer nature too. You’re built to hunt us.”

That mollified Buffy a little but she still didn’t really like it. But it brought her back to all the things she’d been thinking and feeling since the spell. He had a point. The only other beings who were close enough to slayers to compare where probably vampires—and humans sure, but humans weren’t all aggro and bloodlusty like she got. She had needs and impulses and instincts no normal humans would ever have, not even getting into the physical stuff like strength. Buffy moved automatically over to the mausoleum that Spike had been leaning on to do so herself and he followed.

“I never used to have an urge for— for hunting— that was this powerful before that spell we did to defeat Adam. Now it’s like— I don’t know like I’m more me.”

“Why I hear it you all tapped into something primal, powerful.”

“The First Slayer.”

Spike’s brows raised. “Oh yeah? And what was she like?”

“Primal. Powerful.” Her lips twitched up in a momentary smile. “She was intense and angry and alone. Practically a force of nature.”

“Well there you go. When you did that spell you brought back out with you a little bit more of what’s at that gooey Slayer core and whatever it is, it’s kin to us demons if your feeling the same kinds of urge that I do.” One again his eyes were full of liquid fire. “Cause it’s not just the urge to kill is it? Or at least it’s an urge that you could get off a couple of ways— fighting, fucking, feeding. The three things vampires love best. I bet when you get that itch that keeps you up at night you go for one of those and it’s the first two that do the job best. Shame you dumped soldier boy last year isn’t it? Then again he probably wouldn’t have been able to keep up.”

It was frankly horrifying how spot on he could get.

She glared at him. “You’re a pig Spike.”

He just grinned and bit his tongue just a little.

“We’re nothing alike okay? Demon, Slayer. Bad, Good. Opposites.”

Spike leaned in, looming over her. His breath cool and tabacco-y against her face.

“You think you know ... what you are ... what's to come? You haven't even begun.” He smiled again and some how it was the same smile as always but completely different. It was like the Spike from junior year was back. “You’re as much a part of the dark as me Slayer. You might bat for the other team but you’re built like me. Believe me, I know.”

A chill ran through her along with electricity. She wanted to slap him and run. She wanted to shake him and make him explain his bullshit. Tell her everything he knew about it if he wanted to act like he knew things.

“You might hunt Slayers for sport or whatever Spike but you don’t know anything about us.”

He leaned back a bit so he could meet her with glittering eyes. “Oh I know more than I think you do dear. Never were much of an academic in your slayer studies were you? Remember, you’re not the first Slayer I’ve hunted.”

She didn’t have much of a comeback to that. She wasn’t much on learning the lore-y end of things and she really didn’t know the extent of what he’d done on the whole Slayer hunting thing. It was entirely possible he did know more about it than she did right now.

“Well Spike this has been fun but I’m heading home now. Have fun with the dregs— if I even left any.”

She flipped her hair as she turned and left. Not the most elegant retreat she’d made but she was pretty sure she thawked him with that so she’d take it. Her existential Crisis could wait until she was training with Giles, for now all she wanted to do was finally enjoy a nice night of sleep with no fears of vampiric creeps sneaking in again.

#my writing #dangerous!spike and savvy!buffy

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melonsharks · 2 years

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ok i cant stop going back and starign at your teacher au and i have to ask if u have any more info or hc for it bc i love it so much (also the way benrey stares at gordon in the first pic for it is so beautiful)

:) Hehe Im so glad somebody asked about this! I have a few more drawings for it in the works but I don't mind talking about it! Ill ramble under the cut, itll be long (sorry in advance!)

Black Mesa Kindergarten itself, for starters, is a sketchy ass place. Like. Its known for somehow producing really successful STEM students for one reason or another and like there are some weird going-ons.

Its an incomprehensible mess of a school with a disembodied automated voice that speaks over the PA, a principal who seems to disappear and reappear at will, the student counselor who has a giant dog, a janitor who might be an alien, a chemistry teacher for some reason who wont stop setting shit on fire, a pe class taught by an old guy with funny lookin' arms, and a totally normal guy whos just trying to get through the day so he can go home to his 8 year old son and eat pizza or something.

Gordon was a student there back in the day... He managed to get a good gig as a teacher :] He's generally very good with kids, at guiding them and like he shows plenty of patience (for the kids at least) BUT he curses SO much. Like WAY too much for someone who spends so much time around 5 year olds. SO, he has a system. There is a CURSE JAR in his classroom. Every time he curses he puts a quarter in there and every quarter funds an end of the semester pizza party for the kids. He ends up using really elaborate fake curses like "FUUUUUngal infections" a lot.

They have a class lizard. Its name is Peeper. The kids accidentally call it Peepee so much. Gordon keeps getting in trouble for it. He's trying so hard.

Tommy is the school counselor and he is so belovED by the school forreal. Sunkist is his lovely ESA / therapy dog and she wears a vest and everybody loves her and its wonderful. He likes helping the kids work through problems and he is good at providing comfort and getting the kids to talk in the first place... Sunkist really helps though, idk just having her around is Enough sometimes. Perfect Dog Thingzzz.

Coomer is the gym teacher and he is so STRONG and fun and cool !!! He is really weird, like SO weird, but he can benchpress the kids and they think its so cool, and his presence is comforting and he likes to be helpful and makes PE fun. He was around when GORDON was going to school there as a babie, so Gordon has the fondest memories of him and sees him as like. A father figure for sure.

Bubby is. Um. Ok, nobody knows why he is there or how he got hired. He's a science teacher, Gordon thinks? He teaches chemistry, not because he was HIRED to, just because he wants to. Lots of things explode. Lots of things catch fire. The kids have no complaints, its always concentrated on him, Gordon has to really keep an eye on him for the most part HEJDHSJ

And then there is Benrey... Benrey is a janitor. I didnt make them a security guard specifically so Forzen could be one, which idK is maybe silly, but Benrey probably USED to be a security guard w Forzen and now. Isn't. Its no big deal. They got this huuuge crush on Gordon (obviously) and will typically use any excuse to irritate him and be around him, even if it means interrupting his classes to empty out already empty trash buckets in the classroom...

They're not like amazing with kids (they r awkward as hell around them), but the kids think they are so weird and cool. And...mm. There is something deeply wrong with them. They can't quite put their fingers on it... Its probably no big deal.

For other less thought out things, Forzen is an aforementioned security guard, Darnold works in the cafeteria, and G-man is the principal. They have a rival school, Aperture Kindergarten. Joshua USED to go here, but he's 8 presently so he is just in a regular school now. He is missed everyday... The science team is his extended family too :] He loves and misses them all dearly.

#asks #anonymous #hlvrai #kindergarten au #also thank you for the compliment!#so kind of you #bed time for me good night

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feelbokkie · 10 months

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I'm finally freeeeeee!!!! 🥳 All my seniors graduated today so I can finally stop managing their events and worrying about their grades 😮‍💨 I can't believe it's only been 3 days since I last commented though??? Feels like forever ago. I might be a bit all over the place since I'm gonna talk about chapters 3-5 of DLMLU and I'm running on 3 hours of sleep (I'll do a long sleep after this, no more wake up alarms!)

So I had a feeling Bai was the girl Felix was trying to get over (since I didn't think he'd mention it if it wasn't gonna come up or that you'd add another character into the mix), so I'm just hoping their lie about dating 2 years is still feasible? Unless Lix is just like Y/n, still having feelings for someone 2+ years after things went south with them 😩 Honestly they both dodged a bullet though, since Chan is trash (I'll talk about him later) and Bai is horrible. Like, even if Bai pretends to be nice and stuff in front of Y/n's parents, they HAVE to be like being willfully ignorant about her shitty personality. It's impossible that they're not sensing her absolutely rancid vibes?? Towards their own daughter???? Both Y/n and Felix are totally better off with each other even in this fake relationship/basically just cool friends (for now) with a joint mission lol.

Now onto Chan: he's definitely trash for cheating and yet he's feeling a type of way about Y/n being in a relationship, but also he's being so incomprehensible?? Like, HE proposed to Bai and is all like "I love you" but all signs point to him not even liking her all that much (plus his family doesn't like her either). Dude can even SEE and HEAR how terrible she is, but he wanna clown on himself and ruin his own life lmao.

Also been loving the other stories you wrote, specially When They Notice That You're Not Around! Idk something about it was making me feel a type of way ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyways, it's good your interview went well! I hope you aren't too busy in general (saw your upload schedule next week is so filling again~) so I hope you have time to rest and chill!

-👻✌️

You're finally free! Congrats to your seniors and congrats to you for completing another school year! Has it really only been three days? This week has been so hectic for me I've lost track of almost all sense of time. I'm not one to talk, but go sleep!

G, ily but you are killing me bc I want to-- no I NEED to talk about all these theories but I can't without spoiling 😭

Here's what I can talk about:

The two year thing will be addressed next chapter bc I realized the timeline wasn't adding up when I was working on chapter 4 (I rlly need to start writing these things down. But Bai and Lix were always going to have had a thing in the past) But I managed to make it all work, I think

Bai is horrible. I somehow ended up making her worse than I planned, it's really contradicting the whole Lix and Bai thing bc DLMLU!Felix is like the perfect person and Bai is, well Bai

Y/n's parents know Bai is a bitch, they just don't know the extent of how poorly she treats their daughter. They're just willing to overlook it bc they think this is just her coping, albeit in one of the worst possible ways, with the death of her parents (I mentioned that I think, accidental spoiler if I didn't) I will say this, DLMLU!Y/n's parents are significantly better than LR!Y/n's parents they have the right spirit, they're just a little confused.

I also need to talk about my boy Chan but I can't 😭 But the LORE with this man is driving me insane. He's a hot mess.

Those requests have been in my asks for a hot minute, I hope the ppl who requested them saw that I posted. I think I showed my entire perpetually single ass with "When They Notice That You're Not Around." I literally had to take a break to scream into my pillow for like half an hour after each one which is why it took so long to post. Binnie's esp after he pulls reader's chair to be closer to him ✊🏾💥✊🏾💥✊🏾💥✊🏾💥 dear god when will it me my turn

I might be, but that's why I'm doing the scheduled thing. The interview was for an internship and idk how long it'll be before I start. I have to do a background check and fingerprinting since I'll be working around kids for a non-profit. But it'll be unpaid and only one day a week for 8 hours so I'll be busy 5 days a week but it's gucci. I used to run fan pages on top of varsity sports, student council, drama, school, and acting competitions so I'll be fine! Next week looks pretty full but it's mostly drabbles and I can finish those quickly. I might actually do them when I get home from work tomorrow. And purple is mostly done so I really only have to worry about DLMLU.

I am planning to take a small break next month after DLMLU is over bc I just realized the amount of content I've released in a two month period is quite literally bat-shit insane and I'm on track for a burn out if I don't. How long of a break? Idk yet.

I hope you take a much needed rest! You deserve it.

#feelbokkie answers #👻✌️ anon #dlmlu press tour

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sharinganbitch · 2 years

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OK ANOTHER ONE ACTUALLY I don't think I can bring myself to genuinely HATE any naruto characters?? idk if it's just because i've spent more than half of my god forsaken life in my naruto era(TM) in some form or another but. even characters that piss me off or have shitty reactionary tendencies that are super common in anime, all I see is their wasted potential and how they could have been so much better than they are, and all of my rage goes directly to kishimoto lmao. usually when i'm rewatching an ep and a character does something stupid i'm like,,, "you can't help it sweetie it's ok i'll just imagine you better in my head." there might be like one or two exceptions to this rule but honestly I can't think of any off the top of my head? I totally get where character hate comes from in a series with so many,,, questionable writing decisions but with naruto I guess it just doesn't phase me. these little guys just live rent free in my head and i'm just using photoshop up here constantly. does this make sense? I just knocked back two melatonin this is probably incomprehensible. (I also hope this doesn't come across as me like,,, defending the shitty stuff in the series cause that's not what I mean at all)

tbh the only naruto characters that i truly hate are danzo, jiraiya, and hiruzen. everyone else i'm like...handing out metaphorical passes for left and right. and yes, totally feel you on the 'wasted potential' bit. so many characters do and say things that frustrated or annoy me but make sense given their circumstances (or shoddy writing), especially when we consider how fucking brainwashed everyone in konoha is.

#i too am using photoshop constantly #asks

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firein-thesky · 1 year

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oh god I tried in every way to reblog the newest godmaker chapter and leave some nice tags, but tumblr just doesn't let me ;u; so I guess I'll send this message instead bc I have to let you know that you put out a hit on me in the form of this chapter.

there's something so magnetic about getou in this fic, how is it that he barely appears but it makes me crazy when he does?? you're sooo good at writing him it's insane!! but that doesn't mean I'm not totally here for readers and gojo's relationship. I just love toxic relationships sooo much and the way they're so possessive of each other?? that's the good shit. bc toxic doesn't always have to mean bad I guess? idk they kinda remind me of this quote from one of my favorite books, deathless

"A marriage is a private thing. It has its own wild laws, and secret histories, and savage acts, and what passes between married people is incomprehensible to outsiders. We look terrible to you, and severe, and you see our blood flying, but what we carry between us is hard-won, and we made it just as we wished it to be, just the color, just the shape."

idk if this makes sense and idk where this story is going to go but yeah, her and gojo remind me of this.

and then we get to this part after the wedding and??? ummm??? why did I relate a little too much with reader how she feels about intimacy and pleasure?? I had to take several breaks reading this part.

gojo making her vow to put megumi and tsumiki first had me in awe!! I thought she was gonna weasel her way out again but nope, this really happened. I sure hope nothing is going to come of it :'))) even if she says there is no future where she would have to choose, I have a theory that at some point something might happen that is not supposed to in the version of the future she has created and she's going to freak. but that's just my theory!!

about songs, I can also be really meticulous about my playlists, and I think every you every me from placebo is a super fitting song for reader and gojo

"All alone in space and time, there's nothing here but what here's mine

Something borrowed, something blue

Every me and every you"

I'm super excited for the next parts, thanks so much for writing this cielo!!

first of all tumblr the worst especially for big huge chapters like the previous ones....i had a feeling it would crash on ppl 💔 but gosh THANK YOU for coming to my ask box and leaving your thoughts anyways?? for taking the time to do that?? it is so greatly appreciated 💕

getou is my siren song. i can't write him into any fics he WILL take the spotlight it is so horrible of him. he belongs isolated in his own fics. honestly i could write extensively ab godmaker!reader and getou and their relationship. but its not ab them!!

okay also i have indeed read deathless but it was awhile ago so i don't remember that particular quote but it certainly fits! Marriage is so. strange indeed. i have many thoughts on it. but that is exactly what i was sorta going for with gojo and the reader! i think they certainly are the only two that can understand each other in this way. i don't think anyone else in the world could.

and listen FELT. intimacy is HARD. idk. i really wanted this reader to Not be in control for once. or not feel in control for once. i wanted to strip this reader a little. and intimacy tends to do that! intimacy is certainly something to Wrestle With.

i cannot speak to your theory much without revealing anything! i will say. i think gojo's interlude will reveal a touch more about what he's been up to. what he thinks. i will not say anything else!! 🤐

also!! this song!!! gosh the lyrics are SOOOO fitting for them. absolutely the idea of like...this is already so bad. you can't change this now. also i think with those two, there was never much of a chance at normalcy. those lyrics you highlighted especially!! it just fits so well!! thank you for this song rec friend!!

i'm excited to share the next parts!! thank you so so much again for reading and taking the time to come share your thoughts!! it means a lot to me!! 💕

#god i love hearing your guys songs for this fic and in general like its so fun #its so fun to see where others minds go to something from your mind you know #that seems like a stoner thought but genuinely it makes me so happy #like HUMAN CONNECTION!#ya know?#anyways #thank you again!!!#i hope your week is going well!#cielo chats!

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katnissgirlsmakedo · 2 years

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bestie I'm asking this for u to rant. WHAT is wilds about? I have never heard of that show and it's on Netflix right?

i am so impressed that you’ve apparently been seeing me say the most inconsistent and incomprehensible things about this show for days and have only just now decided to see what i’m on about…. ok i’ll explain it to u, ur gonna want to sit down it’s a lot

ok so at it’s core it’s about how being a teenager sucks and about how insanely good it would feel to be able to scream as loud as you possibly can for as long as you need to and just let out everything. but in terms of the actual plot it’s about these two groups of kids (8 girls and 8 boys) who are in two “plane crashes” and are stranded on two separate islands as part of a larger science experiment led by this crazy evil milf. it’s like kind of a thriller so there are a lot of twists that really make the whole thing a fun experience to watch but i’m assuming that if you’ve been watching me talk about it all this time you don’t care much about spoilers. but anyway i’ll still keep it vague <3

so. season one is all about the girls island, and it’s incredible. they’re gay, they hate each other, they’re best friends, they’re family, something really weird is happening and only leah notices but she is like certifiably insane so no one believes her. also one of them is a plant from the people running the experiment and she’s there to make sure the rest of them don’t find anything suspicious or whatever and she like reports any problems to the observers and you don’t find out who she is until like the last episode. but anyway. all eight of them (even the double agent) have backstory episodes that really flesh out their characters and why they are the way they are and how they ended up at this supposed “feminist retreat in hawaii” they were meant to be at before the crash. and it’s SO good, every single one of them is sympathetic and lovable and three dimensional, even the ones that might have been considered boring are still interesting it’s sooo good. and the whole time it’s cutting between three distinct times, there’s the girls on the island, their flashbacks, and the present where the girls are being interviewed by who they think are a detective and a therapist, but they actually work for the evil milf scientist i mentioned earlier. the specifics of her experiment are incredibly vague though, she’s basically trying to prove that young women are capable of banding together in a survival situation and creating a peaceful and practical society by themselves, while i guess young men are not? and this proves…. um, that girls rule and boys drool? idk what she thinks is going to come out of this extremely unethical and gender essentialist research but it’s whatever i guess. and the season ends with finding out there was also a whole deprecate island of boys the whole time as a control group to the girls island

and then season two is where it gets a bit complicated. the timelines are way more muddled (the whole timeline of the experiment doesn’t make any sense to me i can’t even begin to explain any timeline stuff in season two because they clearly did not put much thought into it in the writers room) and at the end of the day, the boys are just not as well done as characters, like collectively. like some of them are really good but they fail as a unit because not all of them got fleshed out with backstory like the girls did. and also they just don’t like each other that much. some of them are buddies but they’re not like a friend group the way the girls are. and one of them is a total maniac on a power trip because he also happens to be in on the experiment and it’s super fucked up

anyway i do think it’s a really good show that you should definitely watch if you’re interested even though i’ve definitely been talking shit about it… it’s still mostly very good i promise!

#also it’s on amazon prime not netflix which is good because netflix would have cancelled it lmao #also i’m sorry this took several days for me to respond. i was gathering my thoughts and then i forgot this was in my drafts and then etc yk #asks #anonymous #the wilds liveblog

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bbyboybucket · 2 years

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I completely understand the concern about Bucky being on a team with the Thunderbolts. In the comics, they're mostly known for being reformed villains who are still known for being really brutal. Bucky has already proven himself a hero and an Avenger, he doesn't need to be with the Thunderbolts

I’ve got a lot to say about this and it might be incomprehensible bc when I rant, I typically get bad at articulating my points but anyways, I agree and here’s all the extra shit I think.

You’re totally right about the Thunderbolts members being “brutal”, more violent and unconcerned with how ethical their methods of doing things are. Which is expected for former villains and anti-heroes. I know in the comics Bucky was actually a thunderbolts member, I think he may have even been their leader at some point. Which good, great, that’s all fine and dandy in the comics but it wouldn’t work on screen.

Comics Bucky and MCU Bucky are very very very different in many ways, but one of them being that (as far as I know anyways) Comics Bucky is much more brutal and violent. He was more, for lack of better term, corrupted by Hydra than MCU Bucky. It makes sense for that version of him to be in the Thunderbolts, he was good for the comic, he’s fit to be there.

Our adaptation of Bucky is not. As you mentioned, he’s well proven himself to be a hero by now, and is literally named to be an avenger (ie: Walker calling him one) but also it’s just not adjacent with his characterization. MCU Bucky isn’t as rough edged as his comic counter part nor the other proposed members of the Thunderbolts.

I mean for one, the dude literally pulls his punches (to the point where dude-bro fans were saying TFATWS nerfed him) and is cautious of others around him. His whole thing is “not wanting to kill/really hurt anyone”. Even when he loses his temper with Zemo, he’s all bark no bite. And not to insult my beloved, but he’s also kinda a push over at times. I mean, take the whole scene in Riga (? is that where? idk correct me if wrong) with Walker. Literally Walker said one kinda offensive thing to Bucky and he literally went 🥺, backed down, and brought Walker to Sam. This man does not fit in with the fighting styles and general personalities of the other reformed villains. Bucky as a person over all is way too soft hearted, self-sacrificial, and humble, even if he has that whole “asshole” front. Bucky might make some questionable choices occasionally but overall everything he does is for the benefit of others.

He doesn’t fit with characters like Zemo or Walker or Abomination. He doesn’t even fit with Ava Starr because though she’s good, she’s let selfish (though very justified I just use that word for point) reasons make her willingly violent. Even Yelena, who I don’t consider a reformed villain, is much more brutal, chaotic, and risky than Bucky despite being a good person. Also, in major contrast to everyone else, this dude doesn’t even want to fight, he doesn’t want to do this job but does because he’s needed. He does because he’s stuck being super human and can put that to use.

The whole thing with Thunderbolts characters is that they’re supposed to be morally grey, but that’s not Bucky. Maybe on a surface level if his character isn’t being payed attention to but truly, he has a damn strong moral compass to have Ben through all that he has and not let it corrupt him. The dude not only goes out of his way to never become that again or never make any mistakes adjacent to what the winter soldier was, but he actively blames and hates himself for what happened. And he tries to CORRECT THESE WRONGS even though he truly isn’t responsible. I mean the fact that he doesn’t just say “not my fault” and move on, shows how strong his moral code is.

Also how would they even manage to lump Bucky in with them plot wise in a way that makes sense? He sure as fuck wouldn’t willingly work for the government and he even calls himself a “free agent” in TFATWS. Also he’s very clearly in with Sam, and is jumping at the chance to be on his team. He such a high amount of respect and admiration for Sam that it wouldn’t even make sense for him to go work with another group. Which yeah, he could do both, but it’s not like he’s friends with these people either? He hates Zemo and Walker, he doesn’t know the rest, and let’s be real, Bucky’s not someone who’s all that open to new friendships and socializing. If Val tried to recruit him, he’d find her sus immediately because he’s already an untrusting person but Val literally reeks of shadiness.

Like it just doesn’t work. Sorry for ranting so much but it’s just so stupid that he’d be lumped in with a group like this despite every aspect of his characterization going against it. So I truly hope whoever’s running shit up at marvel notices this and is like “hey Bucky is not a good idea let’s scrap that” and find someone else.

(Disclaimer: I’m not at all saying Bucky isn’t badass or trying to baby him. I know he’s a damn good fighter who’s capable of a lot and I know he’s a grown ass man that can handle shit.)

#asks #anon asks #Bucky Barnes #thunderbolts #Winter Soldier

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darling-drag-brainrot · 2 years

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i have too many fic/au ideas but all of them are too long lol BUT how about this:

choose whichever daya ship you want. they do friendly kisses all the time and wish it was more? like very “we’re best friends and inseparable and kiss each other all the time but they’re friend kisses and not real kisses, but i totally want them to be real kisses and don’t know how to tell the other person/people”

that totally might be incomprehensible. idk, it's an idea to do (only if you want!)

Wait I totally only now realized I didn’t publically respond to this but 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 yessss thank you for the idea!!!! I am currently tossing around pairings for this and I’m thinking Daya X Jasmine for some reason 🥺

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