#wired 2 fish

[variousqueerthings]

rewatching the second hellraiser and am interested in the specific “it is not hands that call us, it is desire” line, which makes it pretty clear that tricking someone into opening the box for you doesn’t mean that this person is doing the calling

which in the new one is very much what does happen, even down to the idea that someone can trick multiple people into getting taken by the box, but arguably a much bigger game is being played there and those unfortunates are “just” part of the original person’s overall choice (the bad guy secretly wants to become a cenobite as a way to gain ultimate power, the lead “chooses” grief/lamentation, and through that the ability --  or maybe trial -- to live with her choices)

so slight but significant differences in lore (of course in the first hellraiser kirsty opens the box by accident and is still considered fair game, so it’s got a bit of choose yer own adventure)

#hellraiser 2: hellbound #hellraiser #hellraiser 2022 #i like it more than i remember (but that may have actually been the later ones) #(that i dislike) #AND in this sequel we have the leviathan/lord of the labyrinth #AND the fishing wire -- noticing how much 2022 calls back to the sequel rather than the original #also really like that in this one the cenobite with the fucked up vocal chords takes centre stage #and the voice is very similar to pinheads (sorry clive) so it lends more to the androgyny #anyway i really like the sequel i think -- cannot remember the ending so we'll see overall but the build-up is good imo #and the lore #im watching movies

[cominy-kiwami]

duncan idaho homophobic? im sorry frank herbert you just dont know this character like i do you need to step off the pedal

#theres enough evidence for the interpretation that #he is resentful of the paul that he so loved now being part of leto #seeing the 2 fish speakers going at it probably reminded him of what he lost as part of the resurrection process #you love him so much you literally die for him and then are instantly thrust into servitude of this worm #the very first time he made internal peace with duncan idaho was when he #was so averse to killing paul that he punched through the most powerful brainwashing technique in the universe #while just sitting on a chair in a waiting room #because betraying paul was so fundamentally counter to duncan on the most internal and basest level #that his body won over and the tleilaxu identity of 'Hayt' just got discarded out of hand #sounds like a platonic mentor/guardianship to me yeah #under normal circumstances he would never dismiss the love that two people of the same gender could feel #but he is suffering from the since syndrome now. his mind is so thoroughly fucked from Everything #just going forward 3500 years is big but leto is purposefully fucking with him as well. #he only knows one thing which is that he has to strike out against letos arranged society #and the fish speakers are a part of that #his wires are crossed he tried to kill moneo #an atreides #his fundamental stances are failing #get ready for incredible violence #dune spoilers

[mellaithwen]

I went for breakfast at the beach today and made so many new dog friends including this huge bear newfoundland pupper 🥲🥺🥰

#if you’re a dog owner who lets me pet your puppers at the beach you’re the actual bestest <33 #and i love you #the first pupper friend was an Alsatian and he was beautiful and he booped me with his nose and licked my face 😂😍 #and then pupper number 2 was tiny tiny tiny and he was jumping over me and he was so excited #and he was trying to steal the fishing wire I’d pulled out of the sea #and then finally the BEAR ABOVE 😭 #so soft and sweet and his owner was funny and so nice about me coming to say hello #mellaithwen takes a photo #beach

[bruisedboys]

Jealous Finnick part 2?

Instead it’s with Peeta and training for the Quarter Quell? 👀

of course honey! thank you for requesting x

finnick odair x fem!tribute!reader

Finnick's not exactly pleased when he finishes in the training simulation and finds you teaching Peeta how to make a fish hook. Your fingers are quick and delicate as they work thin bronze wire around a makeshift hook. Peeta copies you, pressed far too close to your side for Finnick's liking. The younger blonde is totally enraptured, and sure, Finnick doesn't blame him, you're beautiful, but still — a frown works onto his face on it's own accord.

"Hey," he makes himself known as he approaches your workstation, because you're too focused on your work, and Peeta's too focused on you.

You look up at the sound of his voice and beam. It makes Finnick feel a little better you're so happy to see him. "Finnick, hey. You're done already?"

Finnick's frown deepens. "Yeah. I got bored."

"You got bored of chucking your spear at stuff?" You tease.

Peeta laughs next to you. Something claws at Finnick’s heart.

"Very funny, sweetheart," he tells you, ignoring Peeta. He rounds the table to get an arm around your hips, tucking his chin over your shoulder, his front pressed to your back. "What are you making?"

You warm at his closeness. "Just a hook. It’s not very good. Mags showed me how, remember?"

Finnick hums, watching your hands over your shoulder. "Mm, I remember. It looks good to me."

"Peeta's looks better," you say. "Pete, hun, show him yours."

Pete? Hun? Finnick feels suddenly like he's been punched in the throat. He can’t focus as Peeta hands his hook over and you show it to Finnick, raving about the attention to detail, or something. He‘a hardly listening, too busy trying not to kick Peeta in the leg. Pins and needles bite at his skin and dance over his palms. He accidentally digs his fingers too hard into your hip and you twist in his hold to look up at him, concerned.

"Hey, are you okay?" You ask him. You forget the hooks, setting them on the table and twisting to look at Finnick properly. You touch his arm. “Baby, you're really stiff."

Finnick pretends he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “Am I?"

You hum and take his jaw in your hand. "Yeah, honey." You pout at him, your hand dropping to his shoulder where you dig your thumb into the muscle there. "Could I give you a massage later, would that help?"

Finnick swallows hard. "I— yeah, okay." You want to give him a massage? You’re the loveliest person on the planet, he thinks.

"Okay,” you nod. “Remind me tonight, yeah?"

You beam at him and push up onto your toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. Finnick feels far too overwhelmed to kiss back. He’s still dazed when you pull away and turn back to Peeta, who looks half embarrassed, like he shouldn’t be watching such an unabashed show of affection.

“Peeta was gonna show me some of his camouflage tricks,” you tell Finnick. “Did you wanna come, too?"

Finnick doesn’t answer right away, and at his pause, you lace your fingers through his and smile up at him, the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“Please?” You ask, all sugary sweet, practically dripping in fondness.

“Okay,” Finnick nods, feeling a bit like you’ve put him under a spell. “Yeah.”

You beam at him and then drag him with you to follow Peeta to the opposite corner of the training room. Finnick doesn’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, but he knows for sure now he never had any reason to be jealous.

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed 🤍

#★ mal writes! #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fic #finnick odair fanfiction #finnick odair drabble #finnick odair blurb #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x fem!reader #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair x reader fluff #thg finnick #thg finnick x reader #thg finnick x you #thg finnick x y/n #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick x y/n #thg #thg series #thg x reader #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #hunger games #hunger games x reader #the hunger games fanfiction #thg fanfiction

[granddaughterogg]

You Let Me Complicate You - Part 3

SUMMARY: Simon "Ghost" Riley is a consummate fuckboy who uses fleeting trysts to blow off steam collected at his deadly job. You - the Reader - are a cynical, world weary girl with a penchant for one night stands. None of you are prepared for the horror of Actually Falling In Love. Also - the mask stays on for ridiculously long. Tags: From Sex to Love, Flirting, Random Encounters, First Impressions, One Night Stands, Dirty Talk, Swearing. So. Much. Swearing, Reader Gets Harassed By Assholes, Simon Beats Up An Asshole, Rough Sex. It's all fully consensual tho!

PART 2 HERE

Music pulsated in your temples, but you've completely lost the will to dance. Streaks of murky blue light cut across the dance floor, where the crowd rippled along with the rhythm. You made yourself comfortable on the plush sofa and watched people for a while. Fortunately, this mass of heads, arms and legs in motion was dense enough to hide that wired fucker from your sight.

You hoped to never see him again.

The one you wanted to see has vanished into thin air like Cinderella. A Cinderella who was six feet four, great at chatting women up and built like a wrestler. Who smelled like a heady mix of drugstore cologne, expensive whisky, sweat – and for some fucking reason also like fireworks.

Could it be that his ride has turned into a pumpkin? You would start to ask yourself whether you've imagined him – the man was larger than life after all – but you could still taste that smokey, alcoholic kiss on your lips.

A kiss which was deranged and therefore unforgettable.

You'd have to wipe your brain with a Scrub Daddy to get rid of that memory.

Son of a bitch.

Disappeared, but left the bottle. He clearly had money to throw around.

You ignored the liquor, pouring yourself a healthy glass of water instead.

It seemed that life had offered you an abrupt comedown from this short, all-consuming high. You sat and swallowed tasteless liquid in a sober – and sombre - manner, considering your options.

Option 1.  You could go ask that bartender with the face like a slapped arse whether he's seen your beau around. Which surely would be Humiliating.

Option 2.  You could give up on vanishing hunks and go home. Which was probably the sensible option, if one you didn't feel like taking.

Option 3. You could do what you usually did whenever life served you with a plot twist: have a smoke break.

You were a woman of culture and therefore perfectly aware that those days, smoking is bad form – almost as much as admitting that one does not intend to go vegan. But then, you were also sensible and knew what kind of end awaits persistent cigarette enthusiasts. A cough which sounds just like torn cardboard, a tracheotomy, or death.

The thing is, you've always considered the spectacle of smoking one of the sexiest feats for a man to perform, while the taste of nicotine soothed your nerves and restored you to the state of being serenely one with the universe. All those vapes smelling of fucking strawberries felt as appealing as Boris Johnson's ass.

So you let out a sigh, finished your water, threw on your jacket, grabbed your umbrella and marched across the club, guessing that smokers have been traditionally banished to the outside.

The iron door creaked open like the hatch to a bank vault. 

Your suspicions were correct. Nicotine hostages stood around the entrance, some on the grass, others on the cracked concrete path. Milky serpentines of smoke blew away quickly in the night wind. Fortunately, the rain had abated somewhat. Instead of an icy wave splashing in your face, you were greeted by a cold drizzle.

That you could deal with.

Unfortunately, fate had yet other things in store for you.

You've managed to pat all your jacket pockets, fish out a box of cigarettes, experience relief, because it wasn't soggy, pat your pockets again, find a lighter, and stick a fag into your mouth...It would take in this damp air, so for a moment there you focused on the wobbly little flame instead of your surroundings.

Which was a mistake.

"Need help with this, beautiful?" Asked some stranger's voice.

"Jesus on a stick", you grumbled without even bothering to meet his eye.

"I said", the voice wasn't to be deterred easily, "Do you need help?"

You looked up. Some dude has obstructed the light coming from the small bulb, hanging above the entrance in its industrial iron casing. He was big, even stocky - not as big as your fleeting masked acquaintance, naturally, but quite thick in his own right. Had a pudgy face that you wouldn't be able to describe even at the police station. The patchy beard didn't help either. That's all you could say about him because he didn't spark your interest.

"Nope", you said flatly.

"What do you mean, nope?" 

The man leaned over you, hanging his head unpleasantly close. He smelled like beer and Axe body spray.

You sighed. "I mean it in general. Go away."

"But I've just come here", the dude grinned, as if he'd said something truly brilliant.

"That's not my problem." 

The tip of your cigarette finally took hold of the fire. You shielded it with your palms, taking half a step away from the persistent bloke. Only a half, because the door was right behind you.

Unfortunately, your new friend wasn't about to take a hint.

"Oh come on now", he whined. "Don't be rude to me like this. Let's have a talk."

You never had a lot of patience, not even on your best days. Now it was running dangerously low.

"I don't have to be nice to you", you hissed right into his stupid grin. "I don't have to talk to you either. Go bestow the gift of your company on someone who'll enjoy it."

You've made two mistakes. The first one was assuming that gassed pick-up artists understand sarcasm. The second one was using words and not just your boot instead.

He leaned forward and grabbed your arm. It was not a firm grip, but the touch of this stranger's sweaty fingers on your skin made you nauseous.

"You don't understand how much you're fucking yourself over" - he went on in that slow, obstinate manner of a drunkard, sizing you up with a glazed look. " You're depriving yourself of a chance...yes, a chance. For something better, something to elevate that sad, lonely, fuckless life of yours! A man walks up to you like a gentleman...chimes in with utmost tact and gets mauled. Women of today don't understand -"

You didn't find out what is it that women of today don't understand. You hurled your lit cigarette straight into his panting mouth and pressed your elbow against the handle of that cursed door. It swung open with a groan - not loud enough to drown out the surprised yelp of your aggressor. He let go of your hand. You jumped inside, trying to slam that door right in his face, but even an agile woman, one well aware of her surroundings is much weaker physically than an average man. 

It was a long time since you had to grasp that bitter truth because you had avoided places like this. Well, that was your reminder.

The dude broke in when you were already halfway into the dark club premises, walking as fast as possible without just bolting it.

Music blared from the speakers, making the walls tremble, but you were still aware that he was coming after you. Slow but tireless, like fucking Michael Myers. You didn't have to look over your shoulder to know. Every woman has this radar installed.

You hauled ass, pushing people aside and collecting bemused looks. You headed straight for the bar like a sailor towards a lighthouse in a storm. You intended to chain yourself to that bar; to make Geoffrey call the cops if necessary.

Eventually, you managed to come ashore. You pushed your way through the crowd of patrons queuing for a drink, ignoring their shouts of disapproval. You climbed onto the first available stool and set your elbows on that cold concrete counter. The bartender was nowhere to be seen. Ain't that just the way.

"Hey, Governor!" you hollered towards the row of glittering bottles behind the counter. "We have a problem!"

"Why hello there", said a high-pitched voice to your left. It didn't sound particularly friendly.

You jumped as if at the push of a spring, spinning around on that stool. Your heart jolted abruptly. For in the dim light, you spotted this long-haired fuckhead from the dancefloor. He sat there, measuring you with a glassy look and sporting a wide, deadpan grin.

You took a long swig of air. This was a fucking nightmare, a Halloween special, and you were drowning in it. Drowning in the waters coming up to your chin, black as ink. A woman who went out simply to have fun.

"I thought I'd find you here", he continued, his voice eerily flat, his gaze pinned to yours. "You ugly slut."

"Geoffrey, shake a leg!" you yelled into the void behind the counter. 

"Think you can just walk around and kick people?" asked the long-haired man as casually as if he'd wanted your opinion on the weather. He leaned closer, adding in a low voice:

"Rabid bitches like you shouldn't be let off the chain."

From what you could gather he wasn't that muscular, but you'd already met men with such hollow eyes and a flat affect. Getting into a tussle with one of them was always a bad idea. Whatever fueled this fucker – illegal substances, his own charming personality or both - you didn't feel like dealing with it.

You jumped off the stool, putting him between you and the guy, spun on your heel...

... only to run face-first into the armpit of that specimen from the front of the club. It turned out he didn't stop his TED Talk this whole time.

"...men and women ought to be friends, there should be a sense of CAMARADERIE between them, a sense of friendship, not this, whatever this is. I am being FRIENDLY to you, I am treating you with reverence, yes, REVERENCE and what do I get in return? I swear -"

Two gorilla arms pawed at you, pressing you against his chest. Your nostrils filled with his nauseating smell and the odour of Axe. You couldn't breathe.

"...this war between the sexes must end, or you will all die alone and you'll be so UNHAPPY, you hear me?" He panted into the top of your head. "You will cry your eyes out, surrounded by sex toys and CATS instead of children -"

You gathered all your strength and pulled yourself away from the numbing stench, driving your nails into your assailant's chest. The dude yelped and let you go. You fell back, parting the crowd. Suddenly two capable hands held at your shoulders, firmly but without causing pain.

You got enveloped in the familiar mix of scents - man, cheap cologne, expensive whisky, fireworks.  Oh, thank god.

"One can't leave ya alone for a minute, eh?" said Skullface, calm as ever.

You almost burst into tears of relief - and into tears of anger, too. He's left you all alone in this shithole and let it happen.

You jumped back, darting your head up to look into those dark peepers of his. There he was, all composed, towering effortlessly over everyone in sight. Tall like an unconquered mountain.

"Where the fuck were you?! I'm being harassed by creeps!"

"Plural?" The skull mask tilted in amusement, but you've noticed how his eyes swept the perimeter, and his hold on your shoulders loosened, but not to the point of release.

"You sure are popular."

You scoffed. 

"This shit ain't fun. But seriously, what were you doing?"

He shrugged. With shoulders like his it was a pronounced shrug.

"Pissing."

"For that long?!"

It was an undignified squawk, but you didn't care. You were stressed. You felt scared and fed up.

The man fell silent for a moment. Then he scratched the back of his head.

"If you really need to know, I also laid a brick."

You stared at him in disbelief, but that covered face betrayed nothing, and his eyes seemed sincere.

"What? You asked", he added.

It was as if some lever had been pulled inside your stressed mind. Suddenly you no longer felt like tearing him a new one. Instead, you wanted to burst out laughing.

"Alright then. I hope you washed your hands", you murmured, stepping forward and touching the front of his hoodie. He cupped your much smaller hand in his big one, tracing over its back with his long fingers. They were so warm.

You both smiled. His eyes looked strangely charming when they creased under all that eyeshadow...or whatever that black stuff was.

"You don't have much faith in the opposite sex, don't ya."

"That's EXACTLY what I've been saying!" 

The stocky dude from before emerged from the fray, pushing people aside and beelining to you as if the three of you were good friends. 

"I'm trying to explain to her how DETRIMENTAL this hostile approach towards men is, but she won't listen -"

"That's Creep No. 1", you murmured.

Skullface got visibly alert. He put you right behind him, blocking access like a guard dog. He straightened up to his full impressive height, but you stuck your head out from his armpit anyway. Now that the danger has dissipated, you felt curious as to how this shit would end.

"You." Said the masked man, pointing his finger at the idiot. "Get bent."

"The fuck you saying to me, mate?" The TED Talker was clearly an obstinate drunk.

"I'm a free man, a citizen of a free country! Can do whatever and talk to whoever I please, including this stuck-up bitch right here and you can't make me -"

Skullface's long, bulky arm shot forward, hand closing around the neck of this champion of men's civil liberties. You watched, transfixed. Your eyes have barely registered movement.

"The lady doesn't want to talk to you", Skullface explained, his tone almost friendly. "You better apologise."

The other dude stared at him with bulging eyes. Then he glanced at the large hand, gripping him like a vice. He tried to swallow – not an easy feat when your airways are being compressed – and finally tapped at Skullface's hand with his own shaky fingers.

Your masked friend released him. The bloke staggered, massaging his throat and breathing heavily. He was anything but frail, clearly possessing some strength of his own. And yet there he was, reduced to an ungainly, panting mess. 

"Alrighty then", he gasped. "Sorry..."

"Not to me." Skullface's already deep voice dropped a notch, dark and metallic. You felt a sudden chill licking at your spine. " To her."

The other dude cut you a quick look, his eyes wide and scared. Drunkedness has clearly been choked out of him. 

"Yeah yeah, sorry to you both. Jesus, mate. Chill.."

A snigger tore out of you while you watched that asshole slink away. It felt great. 

"Having fun?" Skullface's tone dripped with amusement.

"Yeah!" you admitted, stepping past his wide frame and looking him in the face. "I wish I had popcorn!"

He blinked at you. Slowly, like a pleased cat would.

"Let's go," he ordered and began pushing his way deeper into the club. You followed suit.

You two found yourselves back in that corner near the dancefloor. Skullface reached for the flask of whisky.

"We're leavin', eh?" he asked.

"Let's," you agreed. "That's enough clubbing for one day." 

You looked around, searching for your jacket, but it was nowhere to be seen.

"Fuck," you hissed. 

He raised his head. "What's goin' on?"

"I left my jacket at the bar. Don't disappear on me again, okay?”

"You got it." 

He sat comfortably and poured himself some more liquor, downing it promptly. You wondered about this man's incredible alcohol tolerance but didn't have the time to ponder on it. 

You squeezed your way back through the crowd, grappling with rapidly growing irritation. First, you'd shout "Excuse me!" again and again and then you'd just work your elbows. 

You told him the truth; you were fed up with partying, with the crowd and with the noise. Wherever this masked man was going to take you would be an improvement.

You finally made it to the bar, threw your jacket on and turned on your heel, starting the journey back immediately, like a ferry connecting two shores.

"Excuse me, excuse me, oh, fuck, sorry, excuse me -"

You stumbled over someone's foot, fell face forward into their T-shirt, pushed yourself away with both hands and then got grabbed by the wrist, which someone held at and jerked it so abruptly that you heard a crunch. Your whole body pivoted, led by the force of inertia. You tried to break free but to no avail. The man twisted both your arms and pinned them to your back, his breath right in your ear, hot and stinking like beer. His words were a searing sludge of intoxication and malice.

"Sorry's not gonna be enough."

You looked up - right into the blank face of that psycho from earlier. His pupils were two black holes. Icy panic flooded your veins, raising little hairs all over your body. He was dragging you somewhere away from the bar, his grip strong and painful. He was elbowing his way through the fray, and nobody around you in this densely populated club seemed to care – or notice for that matter. If they did, they cast you both one glance and decided that they don't want trouble.

You tried your darnedest to fight him, tensed all over in an attempt to break out of his hold, but with your arms twisted there was not much room for action. Or the guy was simply stronger than you. 

Every average man is so much stronger than an average woman, after all. A reminder of this truth came back to you in a bitter wave while your unwilling feet scraped over the concrete floor. 

In moments like these, you saw everything in razor-sharp HD. The dregs of intoxication evaporated from your system while you gained a cool, detached view of the mess you were in.

You looked in all directions, trying to find something that could aid you. It crossed your mind to call your new friend for help. But what name were you supposed to use?

The attacker dragged you into some dark corner and threw you onto an armchair standing there. Its aged springs groaned under your weight. The man pressed both hands into the wooden backrests and leaned so close that you smelled his sour breath.

"I'll put you back in your place", he promised, undoing his belt buckle.

To do this he had to let go of you. It was a small opening, but you took it.

You sat up, reached quickly into your loose chignon, slipped out the hairpin, clenched your hand around it and swung, aiming for the gut -

"The fuck you doing?" he sniggered, grabbing at our hand and stilling it mid-way. "I'll cut you open, you daft cow -"

He did not, in fact, cut you. He didn't do shit, because a dark mountain shaped like a man appeared behind his back.

This time Skullface didn't engage in Manly Posturing. He struck your assailant once, somewhere between the ear and the jugular. The bloke staggered, fell forward, but regained balance, turned on his heel and pounced. Skullface dodged, fast like a bullet, grabbed the other man's arm and twisted it downwards with a profound crunch, at the same time driving his other fist into his stomach.

The dude let out a stifled groan. For a moment he sagged like a rag in your companion's grip but came to quickly and began thrashing around, emitting some unintelligible, high-pitched noises. 

Skullface picked up the floundering man as if his opponent was a rowdy cat. Then he held him at full arm's length, clearly considering the way forward.

"He's on drugs!" You offered. "I don't think he feels pain!"

"Figures," he said. "Should've gone down already."

"Then take him down!" You asked, growing impatient.

Skullface shot you a look from under creased eyebrows.

"S'not that simple,", he explained. "If I hit him again, it prob won't cut the mustard. Bloke's foamin' at the mouth, see? But if I hit him real hard, he might stay down for good. And then Price will yell my noggin' off -"

"SUCK COCKS IN HELL!!!" Chimed in the subject of his deliberations. 

Skullface shook him a little.

"Who's Price?" You asked.

"My boss. He's a real stickler when it comes to those things."

"What things?" Your head was swimming. " Killing people?"

Skullface rubbed his nose with his free hand.

"He says we have an image to uphold...that we need to inspire public trust. Some such tosh." 

He noticed the hairpin, which you were still holding.

"Gimme that. I got an idea."

You handed him the pin and watched in a stupor as he hurled the guy to the floor, using a kick to stretch him flat. The man spat, snarled and threw himself around like a fish out of water, but it didn't do squat. Your masked companion grabbed him by the forearm, pressed it against the wooden backrest of one of the armchairs - and drove the sharp end of the pin right into his outstretched palm, literally pinning him in place. Blood gushed out.

You held your breath. The man howled like a thing possessed, but Skullface had already turned away.

"You broken?" He asked, hunkering down in front of your armchair. His eyes scanned all over you, seeking for signs of injury.

"What?.."

He sighed and shook his head.

"Nevermind. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, he didn't have the time to do anything..." You moved your affected hand and squirmed, seeing a fresh bruise. "Apart from fucking up my wrist, maybe. but I'll live."

"Good."

He stood up and helped you clamber out of the armchair.

"Let's go", he said.

You followed him while he shouldered his way through the club.

You two arrived at the bar, where Geoffrey The Pinched Face begrudgingly poured someone a tequila.

"Geoff, call the coppers", instructed Skullface, putting both forearms on the counter. His voice was low and confidential.  "You've got quite a specimen in here. Mad as a badger, bein' a nuisance to the ladies. Careless with sharp objects, see. Went and nailed himself to a chair."

"Nailed himself?" Geoffrey raised his eyebrows. "On his own? I swear to god, Ghostie. If I didn't like you so much..."

"Then you'd have casualties here every fuckin' Friday." Skullface extended a hand. "Gimme the key. We'll wait this out upstairs."

Geoff silently handed him a small key. The masked man set off across the dark hall. You had to run to keep up with him.

" Ghostie?  Should I start calling you that?"

"It's Ghost", came from behind his broad back. 

"What kind of a name is Ghost anyway?" you inquired, but he didn't grace you with an answer.

You've reached the foot of a winding, narrow staircase made entirely of wrought iron.

"Up there", he ordered. "Watch your step."

You did as you were told. Your boots raised sharp echoes in the steps. The stairs winded upwards for what felt like forever; finally, you stood very high above the dance floor, in front of a black door. The paint was peeling away. A red neon reading HELLO adorned it, but the O had gone out and HELL alone remained.

Fitting,  you thought.  I'm following a stranger into an unknown place. A man who is darkness, yet somehow I am not afraid. 

You were hardly the naive, virginal Persephone. But hey, even myths need to get on with the times.

"That was seriously cool what you just did," you said, turning to your companion, walking right behind you. " Stab! Right between the metacarpals!"

"He'll stay put until the law arrives." He didn't seem to be impressed by your high praise.

"You've sharpened it, didn't you”, he added. "The hair thingie."

You shook your newly freed hair and shot him one incredulous look.

"I'm a woman who's endeavoured a solo night on the town in a tiny dress. What do you think? Of course I've sharpened it."

Ghost nodded slowly.

"A woman after my own heart..."

"Aw, thanks!" you sent him your best seductive smile and invited yourself into his personal space, your back almost leaning on his warm chest and head tilted upwards.

He only pulled you closer.

"Can we go back to having fun now?" You asked. "I'm fucking tired of being hunted for sport."

His long forearm settled across your chest, hand drawing small circles on your opposite shoulder.

"Yeah", he said softly. "We can."

He had to loosen his embrace to insert the key into the lock. The door swung open, creaking ghastly. Your nose filled with the scent of wood and rooms long un-aired. It looked like a typical attic with slanted wooden walls and a small window just below the ceiling. When Ghost turned on the light - which was faint red - you saw low tables and soft futons scattered across the floor.

Music from the dancefloor reached in here too, although it wasn't as loud.

Truth be told, you wouldn't care if they stored onions in there. 

Your attention was fully on the man.

His mask went up again. He slammed the door behind you with a kick, hand already cupping your chin. Then he leaned down. The rough cotton of his mask rubbed at your cheek, followed by the silky flutter of his eyelashes.

You opened to him without hesitation, but this time the kiss was slower, more deliberate. His lips traced over yours, tasting you, discovering this fairly new sensation, nipping and sucking at your mouth with delighted curiosity. He's clearly had a lot of practice.

You tried to fall into this fickle rhythm, but impatience got the best of you. You bit at his lower lip.

A low noise reverberated in his throat – not quite a chuckle, almost a grunt. He turned you to face him, embracing you tighter than before and gave you his tongue. You nipped at the sensitive tip and that's when he lost it. Suddenly your mouth was full of him, claiming you voraciously, setting your blood on fire once again, and you heard your own breathless moan. Somehow your fingers traveled under the back of his mask and ran through cropped hair at his nape. It was butter-soft. He groaned with pleasure under your touch and that sound pierced right through you, making your insides soft and wanting. 

"Oh my god", you panted right into Ghost's mouth, holding at his nape. "Can we just screw already -"

"That's the plan." Could that rough voice of his get any deeper? Smile tapered the edges though, like a glimpse of gold in gravel. 

You weaved your wanting fingers into the longer part of his fade, sliding the mask further up.

He stilled your wrists. 

"Hey. Hey", he whispered cautiously into the bridge of your nose. "Don't even think about it."

"So...the mask stays on?... Like, all the way?" You inquired breathlessly between nipping at his mouth.

"Yes."

You looked this peculiar man in the eyes, now gleaming with fun, but dark and puzzling nonetheless. What was he hiding? Scars? Being a plain ol' butterface? Facial deformity of some kind?

You examined this thought thoroughly and found out that you don't care.

"All right", you said. "But tell me one thing. Are you Deadpool?"

He snorted softly. "I'm just Ghost."

"Ghost?.."

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

And kiss you he did.

Holy fuck, he was so good at this. Even when he let himself loose, abandoning all fuckboy moves in favour of feral lust. 

And maybe especially then.

Your tongues entwined in a blind dance, devoid of any rhythm. It was as un-romantic as humanly possible and you liked it that way. That frenzied, rushed approach of his told you that the man was truly starving, losing himself already in this newly acquired flavour, in your feminine warmth. His desperation set your blood ablaze. 

Because you were hungry too.

Ghost finally broke contact, but before leaning away he glided his tongue over your half-opened mouth. It was as if he just couldn't part with the taste.

"Hold on...fuck, you're something else." He sighed and put both of your hands around his wide neck.

"Hold tight, love", he cautioned as if you two were boarding a ride. 

When you did as told, he grabbed at your ass.

You yelped when his hands pressed into the soft flesh under the thin velvet of your dress. He effortlessly pulled you off the ground and lifted you up. 

"Wrap your legs around me", he asked.

You were not a dainty lady. When other guys attempted such stunts, you usually started to fear for their backs. But not for Ghost. This guy was born for heavy-duty activities. You recently watched him sweep the floor with a grown man.

He could take you. You suspected that he'd carry you out of a battlefield as well.

You pressed both thighs to his wide waist, crossing your booted legs over the small of his impressive back. You felt his firm core underneath you, covered with a healthy layer of soft flesh. That width of his didn't come just from muscles, and the discovery excited you. You liked your men strong, but not starving.

"That's right..." Ghost slid his large hands under your thighs, tearing another yelp out of you, followed by a stifled moan as he pressed your ass against the nearest wall. 

"What are you doing?" you breathed, holding on for dear life.

"Keepin' a promise." That low gritty voice reverberated in your bones.

Right, he had said this earlier.  I could pin you to a wall if you ask nicely.

The next moment all thoughts - the very ability to think - drifted away from you, for he glided his tongue across that space behind your ear. You moaned, your head falling back as if electricity had just pierced you. He chuckled into your collarbone and was already going lower, kissing, licking and sucking the sensitive skin of your throat. His tongue felt like a flame.

"Jesus Christ...", you breathed. "You're gonna fuck me like this?"

"If that's what you want".

"I dunno. It's kinda – aah! - uncomfortable..."

You tried really hard to rein your thoughts, but they fell apart while this impossible man held you against a wall.

It felt like being sandwiched between cold wood and a living furnace.

As if trying to make the thought process even harder, Ghost dug his fingers deeper into your buttcheeks, bunching up the fabric. It slid up your thighs, eliciting a high-pitched squeal from you.

"This fuckin' skirt is in the way", he murmured. After some more finagling, he got away with the velvet and stroked at the sheer pantyhose underneath. His long fingers nudged the lacy elastic, keeping your stay-ups in place.

"Stockings?" He asked, as if unable to believe his luck.

"Yep", you grinned at him.

" Fuckin' hell."

That came out low and guttural. You felt a sharp tingle within as if someone tugged at a string attached to your core.

That narrow strip of lace awakened something in him. He stepped away from the wall and threw you onto the nearest futon. You landed on your back with legs splayed out, but you didn't have time to collect yourself because he was already on top of you, pressing you to the ground with that huge torso, obscuring the dim light, filling up your whole world. He put his arms over your head and pressed them against the soft surface.

Then he leaned over you and dragged his mouth across your cleavage, biting on the skin on your throat, eliciting another moan, and then he let go. You moaned again, protesting this abandonment.

"I know, love", he murmured into your mouth. "But we need to get rid of your knickers."

A breathless, joyful noise tore out of you when he was pulling up your dress.

Ghost's hands pressed firmly into your buttcheeks, sliding the soft cotton down. Yeah, it was your everyday cotton. You preferred stockings over tights simply because they didn't gradually slide off you, creating that abysmal webbing situation in the crotch. You didn't leave the house tonight expecting to get lucky.

He threw your underwear away and held at your hips with more force.

"Listen, are you gonna...", you asked and got quiet mid-sentence. He was already putting your thighs on his shoulders.

His hot tongue glided along your fun parts, making you almost choke on air. He licked you up and down, parting your folds with the tip of his long tongue, tasting you, exploring you, driven by the shameless joy befitting a kid in a toy store. His hungry lips have found your swollen clit and sucked on it as if it was candy. When you answered with a prolonged, ragged moan, his mouth curled up against your pussy. He was smiling.

"You know what I dreamed of at night, sitting out there in some shitty safehouse in the desert?" he asked all of a sudden. 

You had no idea what was that about, but you didn't have the bandwidth to process it either, for he sucked at you again. Your synapses flared up with pleasure.

„Of what?...” you panted with your head thrown back, all tense and wanting.

He looked up, his stare mischievous.

"Of a girl in black stockings, but with no panties on".

"Hey...you got your wish."

Ghost tilted his head and pressed his face against your pussy. The tip of his long nose parted your pubic hair. He stilled, taking in your scent like a yearning animal.

"Fuuuck, love. Need to taste you."

He licked at you again, across the slit and slid his searing tongue inside of you. Your whole body yanked up, suddenly electric. He was exploring you shamelessly until he found that special point within your wet inside. He pressed his tongue to it, forcing a loud, ragged sob out of you. And then he pulled out.

Cool air licked at your moist, swollen, exposed pussy. The unfulfilled desire in your veins surged with fire. You felt like screaming in protest. Instead, all that came out of your mouth was an uneven, helpless, rather embarrassing moan.

He slowly licked his lips, savouring your taste.

"Need me inside you that bad, huh?" He asked, his voice thick and heady. He slurred over his consonants even more than usual.

"Yes!.." you cried out in frustration. "Will you spare the ceremonies and fuck me already?"

Ghost tilted his head and lowered you onto the futon. You could see a thought forming beneath the black cotton, under that surprisingly soft hair of his.

"You don't like being eaten out?"

"Nah, not really. It's usually boring..." you admitted. "Nothing ever comes out of it. It feels like a waste of time." 

Ghost leaned over you, his massive body obscuring all the view. His masculine scent tinted with sweat filled your nostrils, your mouth - and now probably your nether regions as well. You were keen with desire, wanting more of this. More of him.

"One day I'll show you how it feels when it's done right", he murmured.

"Mhm". You cared little about empty promises. 

You cradled his head, pulled his face close and kissed him deeply, relishing his heat and his musky taste, now mixed with yours. Your tongues intertwined again in this dance without fixed steps. For a while all that you heard were the sounds of kissing and your rushed breath. 

Your hips raised on their own, moving up to press against his. 

Ghost grunted in appreciation and ground onto you. You felt his tantalising hardness poking through the fabric. He rubbed onto your exposed sex and you lost yourself in the sensation. Dissolved into this big man tending to you as if you belonged to him. As if he was never about to let you go.

He sold this illusion so well.

"You got a condom?" you whispered into his mouth.

„Always. ”

He sat up, reached into the pocket of his jeans and produced a shiny metallic rectangular.

"Allow me", you offered, sitting up as well. He kneeled right in front of you, those powerful tights splayed. You sidled closer and met his gaze while opening his fly. Thankfully the zipper didn't put up a fight. He let you do it. Watched with his lips curled up when you palmed his hot bulge, clothed in plain black cotton.

"Holy fuck", you breathed, pulling his cock out of its confinement. It sprung out half hard, not as ginormous as you were imagining, but decidedly girthy. You sighed in appreciation, sliding your fingers up and down its pale, hefty shaft. It was enchantingly warm and as smooth as fine suede.

You got reminded how much you love dicks. Beautiful, supple creatures.

"It's so shapely. May I...?" You raised your eyes at Ghost again.

He nodded and repositioned himself on the futon to be more comfortable. Those legs of his seemed to just never end when he sat with them splayed. A smile glinted in his eyes.

You curled your fingers around his root, placing your other hand on his thigh. Then you leaned down, giddy from want. His pink tip felt smooth like porcelain – if porcelain could be alive and searing hot, that is. You noticed a shiny bead of precum and licked it away.

Ghost sighed when you wrapped your lips around him.

He tasted like all men tasted, but also uniquely like himself. You detected a day's worth of sweat, a note of fresh laundry, the faintest whiff of that woodsy-citrusy cologne of his - and salt, for he was already leaking into your mouth. 

Greedy boy.

You didn't try to perform any feats worthy of a porn star. You just sucked, licked and rubbed your tongue at that tender bundle of nerves right under his crown, enthralled with the sensation. He was so smooth and  robust and expanded by the second.

You've always preferred to give head than to be given.

He hardened in your diligent mouth. You could feel his large thigh tensing under your touch, too. You glanced up – he was watching, eyes wide, blinking slowly, those featherlike white lashes of his giving him an ethereal look.

He seemed entranced.

You smiled around his cock and sucked harder, giving it all you've got.

A long, ragged sigh tore out of him.

And that's when you pulled away. A string of saliva bridged his glistening tip and your open mouth, gleaming under the red lights.

He stared at you, dumbfounded.

"Not so fun when it's being done to you?" You gave him a shit-eating grin. " You're lucky that I'm really, really horny. Now give me that rubber."

Ghost snorted, handing you the silver packet. You made short work of it and then used your fingers once again, this time to roll the condom down nice and easy. It slid effortlessly over his stiff manhood.

He swallowed loudly somewhere above you.

"Hands-on approach."

"Yeah." You held at his nape, pulling him closer until you were breathing each other's air.

"Fuck me, Ghost", you asked.

You didn't have to tell him twice.

He leaned over you, forearms pressed into the futon on both sides of your head, positioning his hips just the right way. You watched his eyes, wide, dark and fixated while he pressed his tip to your entrance, already swollen, tender, open and begging. 

He didn't tease you anymore. Just rolled his hips into a slow, measured thrust.

"Oh riiight", you called out, your insides being parted by his hot, rigid, indomitable presence.

He wasn't crazy long, but he was wide. Thick.  Sizeable. It didn't outright hurt because he only went halfway in - but you sure felt stretched. You buckled your hips, trying to make him go deeper. 

"You okay?" he whispered hoarsely, visibly tense from trying to contain himself. "Fuck, love, you're so tight  - "

"Yeah!... Go for it. I can take you", you pleaded, your stare locked onto his.

His eyes were two starless skies when he plunged into you for real. You both cried out when that happened. 

"Oh god!"

„Oh fuck.”

He withdrew almost completely, but before you could raise your voice in protest – thrust all the way back into you, sliding in and out with more and more ease each time. Your insides softened rather quickly, letting him claim as much space as he needed. Letting him fill you with his delicious, delicious dick.

You needed this so badly.

But so did he. For a moment neither of you said a word. Music still played somewhere beyond on the club floor, muted and unimportant, while you two screwed on the dusty futon, creating your own melody. One consisting of ragged moans and rushed breathing, which quickly fell into a rhythm of its own.

The undone zipper of his jeans chafed painfully at your exposed underbelly, but it was a problem for future you. Right now you didn't have a care in the world.

Not when this enormous man took you, groaning through gritted teeth right into your ear. He licked it from time to time and then took it all into his mouth like a mango slice.

You sobbed out loud when he did this.

Ghost let out a breathless, rumbling laugh.

"Enjoyin' the ride?" He asked, sounding way more drunk than before.

"Yes. Go harder..."

Next thing you knew he grabbed at both of your wrists with his one hand and pinned them over your head. 

You cried out in sheer delight.

His eyes glinted. That unwavering stare of his saw right through your kinky soul.

"You like being manhandled, don't ya", he murmured, clearly enticed by his discovery. His other hand reached down, slid under your long-suffering dress and fondled crudely at your breast. His fingers found your nipple and squeezed it without mercy. You moaned again.

"You like to be made...helpless." Dark delight laced his words.

"Yes", you admitted, shameless and staring into the skeleton mask.

Ghost grinned at you like a wolf. "We're gonna have so much fun."

He amped the tempo. You started moaning nonstop while his cock viciously slammed into you, producing obscene wet sounds.

For you were now loose and dripping. He fit snugly into that warm space while your juices trickled out of you. All for him, the burly stranger. You were being fucked with vengeance, that little poach of flub on his stomach meeting yours with a rhythmic slap. He had you pinned down. There was nothing you could do but let him use your body the way he saw fit.

And that's just what he did. He satiated his gnawing hunger with your body, your warm presence, with your mouth, which he would claim one time after another, covering it with sloppy, fervent kisses. Sometimes he didn't even use his lips at all, just pressed the flat of his tongue to yours. It felt so raw, setting your body and your mind ablaze.

"Fuck...you feel so good." His voice right in your ear was a presence of his own, low and gritty and commanding. " Eyes open. Don't you fuckin' look away from me now."

You blinked. His semi-masked face materialised in your field of vision.

Right now you couldn't put a lucid thought together if your life depended on it.

"I love your cock", you confessed dumbly.

His stare got downright manic.

"You like being fucked hard? Like a fuckin' whore?"

Usually, such terms of endearment made you want to kick the idiot in the face, but not this time. Not with this idiot. 

Somewhere inside your soul sizzled a shameful flame of submission. You could be a  whore  for Ghost, and for Ghost only.

"Come on my cock, sweetheart", he ordered, voice low and dripping with authority. Maybe he heard your thoughts. "Come for me."

He reached between you two, pressed his thumb to your clit and started massaging it, going along with the punishing rhythm of his thrusts. You splayed your pantyhosed legs shamelessly wide, crying out from overwhelming pleasure.

"That's right", he rasped into your neck. "Come for me, ya slag."

"Yes", you wailed. "Yes, oh god – Ghost, don't stop – don't stop – don't stop -"

The sounds that came out of you after that weren't words. You dug your nails into the expanse of his firm back. 

Ghost didn't seem to mind one bit.

"Fuck yeah", he growled. "Dig harder. Fuckin' hell!"

A wave of hot, sticky sweetness was rising fast, drowning your wits, washing away all your senses except for touch. Except for this sensation of being taken, being possessed without mercy. You were full of cock. You were full to the brim like a jug of water, ready to overflow. The wave came crushing over your eyes, so you grabbed at him blindly and cried right into his mouth, cursed, and moaned. 

Or maybe it was a prayer. 

Maybe all of the above. 

He held you through it, anchored you while you felt weightless, pressing your chest flush against his - so hard and wide and still fully clothed.

When you came down from this high, he still held you for a while before letting go and falling flat on his back, long limbs splayed.

"You crazy thing", he muttered in delight, slurring the words.

"Ghost...", you breathed, lying flat like a pancake. That futon must've dented under you. Your throat was sore from all this screaming. " I have a question."

"Right now? T'better not be about maths..." 

You chuckled and turned to the side to look him in the face.

Fuck, those eyes,  you thought.  People shouldn't have eyes this big. Eyelids this heavy. I'm never recovering from this man.

"Can we do this again?"

He smiled at you, half-lidded, relaxed. Then he reached out and traced his fingers over your jawbone. Like back then in the beginning.

"M' not in a hurry tonight. You?"

~~to be continued~~

#simon ghost riley #modern warfare #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x you #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley smut #ghost mw3 #ghost smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley headcanons #ghost x female reader #simon riley x female reader #simon x reader #ghost x you #ghost modern warfare #simon riley fanfic #ghost fanfiction #simon riley cod #tagging as asked @thychuvaluswife

[isagrimorie]

I adore the crack-y Trek episodes. I love them because they always give it 110% but also while comedic and bizarre it usually says something about the characters.

(This is why I think SNW's The Elysian Kingdom didn't really work for me on two fronts, I didn't think they went far enough in the concept and didn't really tell me anything about the characters).

One of the few times the Voyager crew gets to be in an over-the-top scenario where they get to keep their memories -- Voyager crew's memories get erased and overwritten a lot. No wonder Seven made her own psychological assessment in season 2 of Picard-- is Bride of Chaotica.

As much as Janeway had to be dragged to the role of Arachnia, Janeway took to the role of a 1930s star like a fish to water:

The production crew was BRILLIANT this episode:

And then Janeway asked if she could sit on Chaotica's throne:

"Somehow I feel comfortable here."

LOL. Janeway.

She was a theater kid for sure. Kate Mulgrew must have enjoyed this episode a LOT.

And then Janeway pauses, and possibly wonders what that says about her. It's the look of, 'I hope this didn't awaken anything in me.'

Too late!

(It says you're a queen).

I love how Janeway actually loved playing an over-the-top villain.

And then she does this thing where she gives the wire of the mic a whipping flourish.

Calmly watches as Chaotica is electrocuted to death.

And takes a moment to gloat over his body, even telling Chakotay to wait before shutting down the holodeck. LOL. It's the most she's enjoyed herself, and to think earlier she was chiding Tom for enjoying this kind of entertainment.

Tom enjoys playing the hero but Janeway just gets to indulge this delicious side of her.

Remember when I said Janeway has no Mirror equivalent? I love her..

And then when her 'rescue' party arrives they find her just looking over Chaotica.

Yes, yes you are the queen!

I think Janeway just learned, that if Tom likes playing the swashbuckling hero, Janewa loves playing the over-the-top villain. This is the most Janeway's enjoyed herself without being brainwashed into forgetting she's Voyager's Captain.

Seriously, I love Janeway. She's the most Extra. And she's learned to embrace the Extra.

/edited

#kathryn janeway #bride of chaotica #star trek voyager #queen arachnia

[the-b1ah]

Part 3 of hide @ dick’s apartment

A wild Danny has a appeared! Sadly this little Danny has been caught in some Fenton fishing wire and can’t escape. He will not survive the winter. This also means that Jason’s scape goat has already been slaughtered (rip Danny jazz is scary ). Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide! So where to next? Find out in the next part!

Also feel free to write your own fic inspire by this au! Just tag me!

And ask me questions!!

Part 1 | Part 2 | and if lost the origin

Part 4!

#art #art stuff #fanart #animation #danny fenton #danny phantom #jason todd #danny phantom fanart #dc fanart #red hood #dpxdc #dpxdc art #jason todd fanart #red hood fanart #jazz fenton #jazz fenton fanart #dp x dc #dc #the red hood #detective comics #dick grayson #nightwing #crossover #dick grayson fanart #batfam #dp x dc crossover

[blackmoonlightexpress]

Luo Yunxi Appreciation Master Post: How can someone be so multi-talented?!

In case you did not already know, here are LYX's many talents. It's insane how many different things he can do at a near-professional level beyond acting!

1. Dance/Ballet

LYX graduated from the Shanghai Theatre Academy majoring in ballet with over 11 years of professional experience.

This is him doing 13+ pirouettes in a performance of Tchaikovsky Rhapsody (full video, he's on the right)

Interpret dance solo (燃烧的火苗) where he won the first gold ever for STA (video, news)

Swan Lake solo at the Taoli Cup Dance Competition in high school (video)

Modern dancing solo (黑白影画) at his graduation performance (video, he's the only guy in white)

He also taught at the Macao Conservatory for a year and danced in front of national leaders in Flying to the Moon (奔月) at the Macao 10th Handover Anniversary (video)

He's super flexible and has a strong core (despite being naturally thin)

In response to request from fans, he performed the Black Moonlight dance in a now viral video on Douyin.

2. Wuxia / Posture

LYX is known as one of the best actors working today for wire work - you can see him here doing 3 consecutive jumps 2-3 stories above ground (compilation videos 1, 2)

He does a lot of his own stunts and is often better (i.e. more graceful) than his stunt double, even though it's really risky and he's sustained some serious injuries from being dropped accidentally (And the Winner is Love: B roll video, actual scene, other BTS, other fight scenes)

He moves with elegance, not just in action sequences (Ashes of Love fight compilation 1, 2), but people have made video compilations of how he walks, kneels, works his sleeves and train

Of course, it's thanks to his dance foundation, but he also puts a lot of hard work into stunt training. Not something a lot of actors do because it eats up time to make more TV or go on variety shows (Ashes of Love stunt training, BTS)

3. Diving

He played a diver once in Flip in Summer (夏日心跳) and actually learned to dive... I mean he's no Tom Daley but this looks pretty good for an amateur... (full video)

4. Voice Acting

He’s always dubbed himself since circa 2018 (with the exception of And the Winner is Love due to Covid logistics issues), which is not the norm in Chinese drama (Ashes of Love dubbing BTS). In fact, he is sometimes the only person in the cast to use his original voice (e.g. in Princess Silver)

He also lends his voice to animations - he was the voice of Viktor in Arcane (BTS video), which received positive feedback (most people didn't realize he was not a professional voice actor)

He appears as a judge and live dubbing performer in Voice Monster alongside the top voice actors in China, Bian Jiang (aka voice of Yehua in Eternal Love, Nan Wangj in the Untamed) and Zhang Jie (aka voice of Donghua in Eternal Love, Sifeng in Love & Redemption). He has so much respect to those working behind the scenes, and it really shows (full video)

5. Singing

Some of you may know that he started out in a boy band called JL with Fu Longfei - these videos didn't age well, but here you go: JL (MV), 我们 (MV)

He has released a number of solo singles, including 缘起 (MV), 星星之火 (live), 不是我 (MV), 等风停 (MV). and 勇 (soundtrack), which he composed and wrote the lyrics himself (these are all mando-pop ballads if that's your jam)

He performed Big Fish 大鱼 at Tmall's 11/11 Festival (live video) - while his rendition is not as powerful as the original, he can hit really high notes with an impressive falsetto - I think it goes up to G5 (one octave above middle C)

He performed Pipa Xing (琵琶行) at the Douyin Festival (live video) - the notable part is his Peking Opera style singing at the end

He occasionally releases covers of songs on Chinese karaoke app Changba or Douyin: 要不然我们就这样一万年 (youtube), 黑月光 (youtube), 不染 (youtube), 山水又一程 (youtube)

He can also sing in other languages, including 喜欢你 in Cantonese (recording) - it's actually a very good cover and his Cantonese pronunciation is >95% accurate - there are parts where you can't tell he's not a native speaker.

6. Musical Instruments

He's an accomplished classically-trained pianist, which you can see in...

JL MV (video, starting around 3:30 mark) - don't mind the makeup, it's from ages ago

Mr Mossie season 2 (video)

Love is Sweet (BTS video) - impromptu jazz, he was deciding which song to play

Fan thank you recording (video)

He also plays the guitar, though probably at an amateur level

7. Music Gaming

During college he was obsessed with this music game called O2Jam (劲乐团) to the point where he created new tracks (i.e. arrange/compose the music) for the company under the username Dinoroy (explained by himself here, videos of him playing).

He became well-known within the fan community as the legendary D神 (D God). There are a lot of funny comments from old players saying that they thought D God is a bitter middle-aged recluse trying to screw them over with difficult tracks (read comments here).

D God was so prolific and reliable that gaming company accepted his submissions without review. Here are some of his best tracks - game arrangement only (Lydia, Croatian Rhapsody, Digital Emotions), music & game arrangement (黑暗魅影), original composition (光之乐章)

8. League of Legends

He's an LOL super fan, commentator, and player since season 2, went to see worlds in person twice, and was a cast member in a gaming show called Beyond It! Hero (episodes here)

He played the 2018 All-Star Event in Las Vegas teaming with reigning world champion Rookie and delivered the final blow that beat the other team 2:1 (video)

He got a quadra kill at a celebrity mobile game even though his team was crap (video clip)

He co-invested 1M RMB in a team led by Misaya 若风 - you can see them playing together in a live broadcast of the mobile game (video)

Update: Our longtime fan boy has become spokesperson of League of Legends and official commentator at the Asian Games 2023 in Hangzhou! The love is reciprocated!

9. Calligraphy/Drawing/Culture

LYX is known for his Chinese handwriting (he practices regularly) - there's even a font based on his handwriting called 汉仪罗云熙体 (download here)

He does all his own handwriting for marketing materials (e.g. Immortality below) and doesn't need a hand double for scenes where his character is practicing ancient Chinese calligraphy

He's also got amazing drawing skills - check out the Queen of the Night 昙花 he drew as Runyu while waiting around on set in between takes (video)

While he doesn't go on a lot of variety shows, he's often a guest on cultural programs, like the beauty of Chinese Calligraphy 书法之美 (video), Chinese Fans in 指尖上的非遗 (video)

His self-produced Mr. Mossie covers a lot of cultural topics (seasons 1, 2, 3), the segment on Hanfu was featured in the UNESCO Chinese Language Video Festival (video)

10. Photography

Luo Yunxi is often seen taking photos on set with his top-of-the-line Leica camera. Here are some of the photos he has shared:

#luo yunxi #cdrama #till the end of the moon #chang yue jin ming #chinese drama #c ent #ashes of love #2ha #immortality

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whumpers! This is your two-week head start to the Two Weeks of Whump Challenge commencing on the 3rd of July!

[Image ID/More information under the cut]

Promptsforyourwhumpfic’s Two Weeks of Whump Challenge - July 3rd-July 16th

To celebrate six years and nine thousand followers, I have compiled a small whump challenge. 

For each day, you gave been given three items/ways to hurt your chosen character with. You can use just one, or all three for each day! This isn’t limited to writing, you can create gifsets/draw etc. There is no limit. 

For those posting to Tumblr

Please tag @promptsforyourwhumpfic and/or use the tags #TWOW or #TwoWeeksOfWhump. 

For those posting to AO3:

I have created the Two Weeks Of Whump Collection (thank you for recommending I do this @dollopheadedmerlin​!) 

You can tag me at @SurroWhump

Prompts list: 

1) Poker - Shock Collar - Ashes 2) Bio-Weapon - Isolation Chamber - Needles 3) Car Battery - Scalpel - Alcohol 4) Belt - Gas Mask - Cage 5) Broken Glass - Building Collapse - Necktie 6) Kitchen Knife - Gunshot Wound - Gag 7) Cyanide - False Imprisonment - Blindfold 8) Rope - Nails - Water Inhalation 9) Acid - Branding - Meat Hook 10) Rusted Metal - Phone Call - Hammer 11) Chains - Hanging - Muzzle 12) Baseball Bat - Coffin - Nail Gun 13) Mystery Pill - Gaslighting - Fishing Net 14) Barbed Wire - Scissors - Corkscrew

Remember: tag accordingly, especially when it comes to trigger warnings!

FAQ’S

Why just two weeks? I understand not everyone has the time/stamina to do a huge challenge, so I thought two weeks was a good compromise!

Miss a day? Don’t worry! It’s not the end of the world, you can always catch up in future. This challenge is not limited to these two weeks, if you’re finding this two months after its over, then you’re more than welcome to take part!

How much do you need to write/do for each day? As much or as little as you’d like. If a drabble turns into a full fic, brilliant! If you only have the time for a sketch that's fine too! 

Want to know more? Message me/send me an ask!

#can everyone see the graphic? #I’m worried it’s a bit small #whump #whump community #writing #writing challenge #prompt meme #twow #TwoWeeksOfWhump

[persevereforahappyending]

Luck Runs Out |Part 1|

Pairing: Mabel x Reader

Summary: When your luck runs out you unknowingly drag Mabel back into the life, she's so desperate to escape.

Warnings: Drugs, Guns, Violence

Word Count: 2.4k

Note: This is what happens when hyperfixations converge

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

“Cut the line!” You screamed over the raging storm and grinding machine.

“No!” Your captain yelled. “We can’t let the product go!”

“We have to!” you turned to face the captain.

“We have too much money riding on this drop.”

You watched as your fellow crewman continued to push the lever, trying to raise the net with product. You lifted thousands of pounds of fish almost daily so drugs shouldn’t be any different. It wasn’t usually different. The thing about machines though, no matter how many times you’ve used them, no matter how reliable they were in the past, they could still break.

The machine continued to groan, the wire grinding and struggling to raise the net. It was a bigger drop than usual, but it wasn’t anything you and the crew couldn’t handle. The thing that didn’t help though was that there was a major storm, the waves crashing around the boat, swaying it violently back and forth as your crew tried to raise the drugs. Most fishermen would have held out in leaving the dock when they heard the storm would be rolling in, just wait for it to pass and leave in the morning to get their catches. Your crew had a time limit though, you were told about the drop and drug dealers didn’t care about a ‘little storm’ in their words. Your job was just to get the drugs and bring them in.

“We have to cut the line!” You shouted, begging your captain to see reason.

“No!” He screamed back. “We get this line up or being out of a job will be the least of our worries.”

The grinding got louder, you looked to see the device to lift the net now smoking. Any other captain would have told them to cut the line, it would have sucked, but any other fishermen would have just taken the loss of the catch, the risk wasn’t worth it. You weren’t just any other fishermen though; you were the best. Your crew brought in some of the biggest catches, you were on one of the nicest fishing boats in the harbor, for fishermen the whole crew were well off not just the captain. You were also drug smugglers, you moved more drugs than fish, that’s where the real money came from.

“Screw it!” You said, watching as your crew mate struggled with the lever, losing his grip and as he slipped from a large wave that crashed onto the deck. The lever went down, the cord holding the product started to drop back into the ocean. Your crew mate quickly recovered and grabbed the lever, pushing it up as he caught the product, the cargo swinging from the sudden change.

You rushed forward, moving to push your crew mate out of the way when the cocking of a gun stopped you in your tracks. You heard it clearly, as if there weren’t crashing waves and thunder surrounding you.

“I said no,” your captain repeated.

You slowly turned to see your captain aiming a revolver at your head. You stared down the barrel of the gun, looking over it to see no hesitation in your captains’ eyes. You took a step away from the machine, refusing to back down from your captain's gaze. He was your captain, this was his ship, what he said was law, if he asked the men to throw you overboard, they would. A crew was supposed to be like family, fishing was dangerous, and the ocean was unforgiving, if you couldn’t rely on your crew, you might as well be dead. Everyone had a job and you needed to trust everyone would do their job, if you couldn’t trust them, then there was risk, everything could go wrong, and on the ocean, if something goes wrong it can not only cost you your life but your entire crews.

There was a groan then a loud snap, breaking the tense moment. Your eyes left the gun pointed at you and went to where the drugs were being lifted. One of the cables had snapped, the other was straining itself to hold the load. With the crew distracted you ran forwards, hitting the button to release the load. The net of drugs instantly dropped; the boat harshly swayed at the change in weight, sending you flying back into the side of the boat, nearly going over the edge.

You held onto the edge, trying to keep yourself upright. You turned around just as a shot rang out. An incredible force hit your shoulder, flipping you over the side of the boat. The cord that had broken free of the machine lifting the drugs entered the water, wrapping around your ankle as it trailed after the net it was connected to, the drugs you tried so hard to cut loose to save everyone was now dragging you to the bottom of the ocean. You weren’t a good person, you’d made a lot of bad choices in life, whatever the reason for those choices ultimately led you to where you were now. You always knew getting involved with this life was most likely a death sentence. Maybe the god of the sea would take mercy on you, maybe remake you into a shark or something cool. You weren’t that lucky though; the sea god was just as ruthless and merciless as the ocean he ruled. You were in his domain; you didn’t deserve his mercy.

You watched as the light from the boat slowly faded. You weren’t sure if they were leaving you, they probably were, or if you were too deep for light to reach, also probable, or made you were starting to blackout from whatever hit you, also highly likely. You deserved this, sinking to the bottom of the ocean floor, alone in the dark with nothing to do but rot. You deserved this.

Your eyes snapped open, the saltwater stinging them. You might have deserved to die like this but that didn’t mean you were going to make it easy. You were a fighter to the very end and there was no way you were going to sit back and just let the ocean take you. You swam up, trying to kick your foot loose from the cord it was tangled in. the cord seemed to only get more tangled, the pallet of drugs only pulling you deeper by the second. You felt around, searching your body for the knife you always kept on you. You let out an internal sigh of relief when your finger brushed the metal, your hand quickly gripping the rubber handle.

You freed your knife and swam down, the cord that was around your ankle was too thick to cut through, you were going to need to cut the net the drugs were in. You swam further down, black spots dancing in the corner of your eyes. You felt around, finally feeling the net, following the path of the net until you found where the cord around your leg connected to the net. You quickly dug the knife into the rope, sawing back and forth until the cord broke free. You didn’t waste a second, quickly swimming back to the surface.

You broke through the water, gasping for air, trying to keep your head above the water as the waves crashed over you. The storm was still raging, you looked around, seeing nothing but the glint of your knife in the moonlight. A few seconds after floating on the water, trying to reserve your energy since you didn’t know right from left in the ocean. If you just started swimming you could end up going further out to sea. You needed to find a piece of driftwood or something just to keep yourself afloat as the current guided you back to shore.

You sheathed the knife back at your side, not removing your hand until you knew it was secure. You reached down, bringing your leg up as you tried to detangle the cord from your ankle, while also keeping your head above the water. The cord was thick and heavy, it kept trying to drag you down but eventually you got it around your foot, kicking your foot to untangle the rest of it until you were finally free.

Something else broke the surface, making you jump but when you got closer you saw it, three tightly sealed packs of drugs. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, the drugs that seemed to be your downfall might be the thing that saved you. You swam to them, pushing them as close as you could together, holding them in place as they kept you afloat.

You pulled out your necklace that you always kept tucked under your shirt, giving it a kiss, silently thanking Poseidon or any other sea god that might exist. You didn’t necessarily believe in the Greek gods, but you grew up hearing those stories, fascinated by the mythology of it all. When you got into fishing your mother gifted you a little trident necklace and ever since you had never taken it off. You knew it was kind of stupid and your crew always made fun of you for it, but you always kissed it before going out to sea and held onto it during difficult times. You didn’t believe in it but on the off chance that the gods were real you wanted to show your support in some way, besides, representing the god of the sea and showing him respect didn’t hurt anything. It gave you comfort, believing in a god, believing that when you went out to sea you’d be protected and if the worse came, then you’d have somewhere to go, that your soul might be protected in the afterlife.

Or maybe Poseidon saved you only to let you die a far harsher death. Sinking to the bottom of the ocean isn’t ideal but it would have been quicker than your current predicament. Now you were floating in the middle of the ocean, a couple bags of drugs the only think keeping you from exhausting yourself and sending you back down to your demise. No one knew where you were, no one would come for you, your crew would lie about what happened and everyone would write you off as dead. You were soaked down to your bones, the top half of your body shivering in the moonlight, you had no food, no water. Your only hope of rescue was being close enough to shore that the tide would carry you in before you died from dehydration, which you knew wasn’t likely. Otherwise, your fate lied in the coast guard stumbling upon you or some unsuspecting fisherman catching sight of you as they set out for their catch.

You sighed, closing your eyes, yeah, the sea god was pissed at you. You couldn’t blame him; you did taint his ocean with drugs after all. You deserved everything that was coming to you. At least the rain stopped, maybe you were being shown mercy after all, maybe Poseidon wasn’t going to allow you to die alone, in the ocean, in the freezing rain. To most that wouldn’t seem like a kindness but for a god that was about as merciful as it got. You were lucky the waves weren’t still crashing over you, refusing to allow you to break through to the surface, fighting your way up and the surface just constantly being out of reach. If you were to die by simple dehydration, then you were lucky.

You had one arm stretched out over the packs of drugs to help keep them together, your fingertips dipping into the water with each movement of the waves. You rested your head against the packs, your eyelids becoming heavy despite your desire to keep them open. The last thing you saw was the moonlight before you finally lost consciousness.

Your eyes slowly fluttered, squinting as you tried to look around but quickly dropped your head back down when you didn’t have the strength to lift it. You groaned, as you reached over, touching your shoulder, gritting your teeth at the pain that shot through your entire body at the lightest touch. When you pulled your hand away, resting it in front of your face as you opened your eyes just a bit more to see your fingers coated red. With that your eyes slowly closed again.

You drifted in and out of consciousness, not able to open your eyes again. The sun beating down on you as you swayed with the waves. You weren’t sure where they were taking you, to shore, or further out into the ocean, inching closer to your demise with each wave.

The waves got rougher, making you regain consciousness for a second. It sounded like people were talking, you nodded thinking you finally succumbed to delusions and now you were hearing things. Certainly, it was only a matter of time before the ocean took you again, dragging you back down to your watery tomb.

Death never came though, you were gripped by the shoulders and hoisted upward, gently being placed back down on a hard surface. You tried to open your eyes, squinting as you saw a handful of silhouettes standing over you. One of them stood taller than the other, looking down at you as he pointed to the others, seeming to give them orders. When he turned, the sunlight hitting him just right, you could see he had a beard, he also smelled oddly like fish, maybe Poseidon was real after all, or maybe you smelled like fish, you were on a fishing boat the night before and had been in the ocean since then.

“Holy shit,” someone whispered, the first thing you could properly hear but your eyes wanted to remain closed as you tried to turn toward the voice.

“Let’s get back to shore!” someone ordered.

“We need to get them to a hospital,” another voice said. This voice was closer to you, and you felt pressure go to your injured shoulder, causing you to let out a cry, your body jolting from the pain but quickly flopping back down again.

“No,” you rasped out. “No hospital.” You tried to raise your hand to wave them off, but you didn’t think your hand ever left the ground. “No,” you breathed out before finally fully losing consciousness again.

#mabel finestkind #mabel (finestkind) #mabel x reader #mabel x you #mabel x fem!reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #finestkind 2023 #luck runs out

[blackopals-world]

Idia:Are you sure? I mean what if you do it and like...eggs? Like inside of you.

Marine Biologist!Yuu: Oh for the love of... Idia what are you reading? Male Mers don't lay eggs. They certainly can't give them to me either. Females have eggs. I presumably have eggs already in my body. If they did put eggs in me they wouldn't be fertile without sperm and if they are already fertilized then they wouldn't be genetically mine. They would be clones and at that point I'd only be a place to warm them which they wont need.

Idia: Okay, but what if you end up with a whole bunch of fish babies.

M.B!Yuu:(sighs) Once again not going to happen. My capacity of carrying would be limited to the number of eggs my body would release at once which is an average of 1-2. My body would simply give up at any sign it can't handle said resulting pregnancy before I even knew it had happened. And no it won't be an egg because I'm not biologically wired to make a calcium or liquid encasement that can leave my body. The egg you are thinking about can't exist because that would mean a that the baby could survive independently of my body. Which it can't and won't.

Idia: You are breaking the heart of every monsterfucker with your mean logic.

(There are many benefits to being a Marine Biologist. Monsterfuckerery logic is not one of them. There is no Ovipositor on men. Also that's mainly for insects and only a few fish. Not sorry.)

#apologize to the monsterfucker community #the truth hurts #marine biologist!yuu #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland yuu #twisted wonderland incorrect quotes #twisted wonderland azul ashengrotto x reader #twisted wonderland azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #twisted wonderland azul #floyd leech #twst floyd #floyd twisted wonderland #floyd leech x reader #twst jade #jade leech x reader #jade leech #jade x reader #azul ashengrotto

[drawloverlala]

Some Clip Studio Assets

Hello! I just published a brush for Clip Studio Paint, it’s a cyber effect brush!

https://assets.clip-studio.com/es-es/detail?id=1993559

And along with sharing it with you I also wanted to share some of the assets I've found on the assets store that I think you may like as well! ^_^

here I put them down the read more! (warning it may be a bit too long of a post!)

✒Inking and drawing brushes:

Smooth Ink

Smooth Inker

Voyageffen

Line brush

Ink pen textured

crack lines on surfaces

S Zara Pen

Nong Pen

Line Drawing pen

Rough pen

✏Writing Brushes:

Calligraphy pen set

Halloween themed pen

Neon Pen

Retro brush

🎨 Painting brushes:

Soft fluffy paint (One of my favorites!)

Thick brush set

🖼 Gradient maps:

petitchery set

Holo gradient set

Ommug gradiation map

Toffi's Gradient set

🎇Patterns:

Tone Brush set

Tone Brush set 2

Pretty stone floor pattern

Stone floor pattern

cute Halloween Pattern

Hexagonal pattern

Cute textures (they are patterns)

Sweater pattern brushes

Gun Club Check (plaid pattern)

Lemons pattern

patchwork patterns brush

Argyle pattern brush

Cat face pattern

Cloud and flower pattern

cute brushes and patterns (cactus, peach and clam)

cute simple patterns (warning: they have pretty bright colors, may cause eye strain)

80's patterns

strawberry pattern and brushes

flowery patterns

10 cute plaid patterns

Avocado pattern.

📜Textures:

Textured brush

Glitter star textures

Gold glitter set

Random Textures 1

Random Textures 2

Random Textures 3

Random Textures 4

3 Textures set

Atmosphere set brushes (rusty textures)

📚Background objects:

Wire fence

Books brush 1

Book brush 2

Book brush 3 (fancy)

Bottle brush

Piano brush

Magic Drug shelf set (has baskets, jars and bottles)

City

Window brush

🧁Food:

Cookie brushes

whipped cream brush

Sausages

Many sausages

Bread brush

strawberries and cream

berries brush

strawberries

fruit toppings

Avocado!

🌱🌼Flowers and plants:

Roses1

Roses 2

Tree leaves brush 1 (pretty good)

Peonies

Bougainvillea

Geranium

Easy bush set (this one is pretty good too!)

Palm tree leaves

Mimosa

Flower brush (for cute effects)

✨Effects:

Gaussian blur brush

White drops brush

Glitch effects

Prism brushes

Dual prism brushes

Shiny flowers and sparkles

Retro Filters

Tech brushes

Mini deco effects 1

Mini deco effects 2

👑Ornaments:

Ornament Brushes

Ornament Brushes 2

Oriental Emblem 1-10

Oriental Emblem 21-30

Oriental Emblem 31-40

43 types of decorations

27 Oriental patterns

Ornament material

X-mas brush set

Exotic fantasy decor.

👕Clothing:

Shoe laces set

Shoe laces 2

Sweater knit patterns

10 types of brushes of bows with frills

Patchwork stitches brush

socks/panty/stocking(?) brush

Tattered brush

💕Misc:

Feathers

wind effects

Hot mess confetti

Cute Confetti

Confetti

Halloween particles brush

Fishes

Twinkle brush

Cute pattern 10 pieces set 1

Cute pattern 10 pieces set 2

Cute pattern 10 pieces set 3

Cute pattern 10 pieces set 4

Cute pattern 10 pieces set 5

Star brushes

Halloween washi tape

Puppy stickers!!!

And those are most of the assets I've collected so far from Clip Studio's assets store!

I hope these may result useful to you!

#my ramblings #clip studio assets #resources #brushes #textures #patterns #clip studio paint

[deathbecomesthem]

Ready, Steady, Go

MINORS DNI - STRICTLY 18+

*This is a reupload from my old blog. If you think it looks familiar, it's because it probably is.

Part 2 of Three's Company

wc: 2.8K

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Everyone is about age 30 in this one, think mid to late 90s. This chapter is Steve Harrington x Reader smut.

A/N: This is a Steddie x Reader story, but this chapter is the first time that Steve and the reader are intimate with one another, one on one, without their mutual lover Eddie.

Contains: Poly relationship dynamics, smut (oral and vaginal), and lots of feelings. It's so soft guys.Keep reading

---

Steve and Eddie have maneuvered through their relationship quietly. They’re still long time roommates to many of the people in their lives. They don’t hide themselves away, but they don’t invite many people in either. It’s not just for their personal safety, but their emotional well being is a priority. Sometimes, it’s too much to bear to think about losing a dear friend or family member for just being who they are.

What no one had really considered before opening the relationship to add you in was the fact that you made it possible for them to go places together that otherwise might be viewed with suspicion. There was no point in focusing on the injustice of that, bitterness can turn a good thing sour. No one wants that. The three of you are finding ways to fit your lives together, and so far it’s been shockingly natural. With love at the center, the rest seems to just fall into place.

So, why are you so nervous right now? A weekend alone with Steve isn’t something out of the ordinary - but this is the first time the two of you will be alone since you’ve been intimate. Eddie has always been there until now. What if there’s nothing without your shared love to hold onto? It’s a niggling fear that flits to the forefront of your thoughts when you least expect it. What if this is the way the end begins. 

You’re sitting in the chair in the corner of Eddie’s bedroom watching him pack his bag. He’s leaving in a half an hour, Eddie’s never been good at planning ahead. Unsaid concerns have turned into a lump in your throat. You can only sit and watch him move from the closet to the bed, snapping his fingers together when he remembers an item or two that he almost forgot to pack. And then he breaks the silence.

“What do you and Stevie have planned this weekend? I’ll miss you two so much.” Eddie’s tucking a fourth pair of black jeans into the corner of the suitcase, far too many for the three days he’ll be gone. He’s likely to forget to pack any socks, but have enough pants to last a month.

“Oh,” you pull your legs up to rest your feet on the edge of the chair. You’re pulling yourself in, making yourself small, “I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it. I might just spend some time by myself.”

Eddie slows his movements and sighs a little to himself before saying, “I thought it might be nice if you two spent some time alone together.” Eddie moves toward you, and drops down to his knees in front of you. He lays his head in your lap, “I know you both, and I love you both. I see it, ya know? There can be more between the two of you, if you let it happen.”

You don’t respond, but you let the words roll around in your head while you run your fingers through his hair. Yes, he’ll only be gone for a couple of days, a short weekend trip to visit Wayne and go fishing, but you ache at the thought of his absence. He is your heart. For him, you will try. And for yourself, too.

—

Steve comes home an hour after Eddie’s already gone. You make a point to be sitting in the kitchen with a pot of oolong when he walks through the door. A loaf of banana bread is cooling on a wire rack on the counter, a treat you know he can’t resist. 

“Hey,” Steve’s smile is wide when he catches sight of you. He kicks his shoes off by the door and heads over to kiss your head in his usual greeting. “Oh, ho ho, is that what I think it is?” 

“Mmm, yes it is. Fresh out of the oven. Look at what a good little homemaker I am.” You flutter your eyes at him and smile. “Let’s have some and spoil our dinner. I made tea.”

Steve immediately gets to work pulling out small plates from the overhead cupboard, and setting the butter dish on the kitchen table. You see him breathe in the smell of the bread deeply when he cuts the first slice, it’s still warm enough that steam rises from the loaf when the knife cuts through it.

You love seeing him like this. Steve finds the joy in these little things, and even before the dynamic shifted between the two of you, offering Steve little treats was always one of your favorite things. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m not complaining.” He sits down and melts into the chair. His glasses fog when he takes his first sip of tea. You’re studying him, watching the way he tastes the bread and drinks his tea. You watch the muscles in his jaw. You watch him suck the crumbs off his thumb. He really is very pretty.

You ignore the fear inside you, and do what feels natural. You sneak your foot over to his, and rub the arch of his foot with your big toe. He grins at you through the still foggy lenses. His other foot rubs the side of yours. This game of footsie while you eat banana bread at 5:30 on a Friday evening feels more intimate than when you swallow each other's moans under the covers of Eddie’s bed.

“What do you want to do tonight, Steve?” You pinch the top of his foot with your toes in conjunction with the question. Playful and light to hide the anxiety. Because you don’t have plans with Steve tonight, and you don’t have the kind of comfortable relationship that you and Eddie share where time together is a natural thing that just happens.

“Tonight? Oh, I don’t know,” there’s genuine surprise in his voice, as if the idea that the night might come never occurred to him. “What about you, Honey? Think you might want some company?”

Honey. The name is warm and sticky, it sends a tingle down your spine. It’s better suited for the man sitting across from you, with his gold flecked irises and the amber highlights threading through his graying hair. Never mind his sticky sweet nature.

“That would be just the thing, Stevie. I’m already lonely with our sweet muppet gone. We can keep each other company, hm?” 

Steve sits up straight, lighting striking him, “Oh! I know what we can do.” He jumps out of his chair and strides over to the drawer next to the dishwasher. He fiddles around in it, and pulls out a paper menu. It’s the place around the corner that Eddie hates. You tried to make him love the unique dish that reminds you of home, but he turned his nose up at it. The same man that eats Vienna sausages and Velvetta won’t even try a plate of the surprisingly complex dish that is Cincinnati chili.

“You just scored big points, Stevie. Throw in a couple of cannoli from Angelo’s, and I’m yours forever.” 

—

With full bellies, it was natural the way you fit into his side while the blue glow of the television screen played your favorite John Hughes film. Steve’s hand runs up and down your arm, but his eyes stay on the screen - he loves these kinds of movies, and it’s rare when he can enjoy them without the moaning of your shared boyfriend. For you and Steve, this is an experience neither of you realized you were missing. It’s warm and lovely to be with him like this. Quiet and secure. Held. And you want him more than you thought was possible. You want his hands on you. 

You’ve been in the dark with Steve and Eddie. You’ve shared the heights of pleasure with them both. But you and Steve have yet to cross the line into lovers. You’ve mapped Steve’s beautiful body with your eyes, your mouths have met in passionate kisses while Steve’s cock is inside of your boyfriend. You wonder, will he have you?

This is when you decide it’s worth the risk of rejection to see if he also wants to see where the night could take you. You turn your head and look up at his face. You can see the moles scattered across his skin under that blue light, and you speak.

“Stevie,” your voice is a whine, betraying the sudden need that’s building in your gut, “you look so pretty right now.”

The blue light of the television screen across the room flashes in the lenses of his glasses when he whips his head to face you. You can’t see his eyes, they’re obscured by the glare. Steve leaves nothing to the imagination, he doesn’t make you wonder. He takes off the acrylic frames and searches your eyes. Satisfied with what he sees, he smiles as he cups your face and leans down to kiss you.

Slow. The eagerness is there, it would be a disappointment if it was missing, but it’s slow. He’s tasting you, savoring the flavor of your lips - red wine, salty popcorn, and mint lip gloss. You think you could stay like this, open mouths searching one another, teeth scraping soft lips, forever and never tire of it. A wide palm instinctively finds the bare skin at the small of your back, a thumb strokes your spine.

“Steve,” the word released into the air between your mouths makes him dizzy. “Stevie, please.”

Steve breaks the kiss to rest his head on your forehead. The air between you is heavy and humid. Your eyes, blurry from the closeness of your faces, bore into his. Any question either  of you may have had about whether there is something between the two of you without the affection of your shared lover evaporates into the air with your shared breaths. 

“I want to see you, Honey. You’re so pretty.” Steve closes his eyes when he tells you this. And you think, how could I deny a request like that from this man. 

His eyes remain closed as you stand. You take your hand in his, and pull him to his feet. Neither of you realizes the film is still playing on the screen in the living room as you lead him down to the room at the end of the hallway. Your room. 

Steve stands and watches you while you undress. He’s seen you this way before, many times. He’s never failed to see the beauty in your form, but it’s different right now. Quiet. He can watch the way your hands move. He can see the muscles flex in your shoulder as you reach behind your back to unhook your bra. He can see each soft curve of your skin and admire them. 

Eddie isn’t a distraction. Eddie is a force of nature. Eddie is the sun. It’s easy to be blinded by him. His absence tonight allows the light to stay low, it allows movements to slow. It allows you and Steve the space to look at each other and spend the time. Your only regret is that Eddie can’t be a fly on the wall to see these quiet moments between the two loves of his life. 

You don’t feel insecure as you kick off the small piece of fabric from your ankle, letting your black panties hit the shin of Steve’s jeans. You feel powerful. He’s eating you up with his eyes. You can practically see smoke leave his nostrils when he huffs through them, lips tight. His jaw is clamped, while you crawl onto the bed, allowing him a full view of your slowly swaying ass.

“Jesus Christ. You’re gonna kill me.” Steve is still standing at the end of the bed as you present yourself, laying on your back, legs spread. Your hand roams your chest and stomach, dipping to the soft pubic hair - touching the places where you wish his hands would search.

“Stevie. Are you just gonna stand there?” Your words are soft. A hand grasps one of your breasts, squeezing it. Desperate to feel something. The open air between the two of you is too much. Steve doesn’t bother with his own clothes, his fingers are aching. They’re empty, and are desperate to feel your soft skin.

Slow. Deliberate. A steady hand travels down the valley of your chest, long fingers brushing gently across your skin. Gooseflesh erupts along their path. You’ve been holding your breath in anticipation of his touch. His attention. He’s focused on only you tonight for the first time, and you are full.

“Your skin is so soft.” Steve’s voice breaks the silence, and you release the air from your lungs. “Look at you.”

You can’t look at yourself, so you look at him. The moonlight sneaks through the blinds, reaching out for him. Bathed in moonlight, you see everything. You see him. You smell him. You feel him. Even now with his lust clouded mind, his hands are steady and searching. 

Featherlight touches travel past your navel. Your breathing hitches when he gently strokes against your already swollen clit. He continues to the silky smooth lips below, and runs up and down. He delights in every one of your hitching breaths, a crooked smile spreads across his lips.

“You’re wet, Honey, and I’m so thirsty. Can I have a drink?” 

You open your mouth to respond, but you have no words. He doesn’t wait for them, he dips his head down. He smells you. He’s smelled you before against Eddie’s skin, but from the source it’s intoxicating. He opens his mouth and keeps his eyes on you while he takes his first taste.

Steve hasn’t tasted a woman in years. He hasn’t missed it, not really. Right now, though, he cannot believe how sweet you taste. How soft your thighs feel. He can’t get over the way the fine hairs on your skin stand up with every little touch he offers. His fingers sink into the flesh of your ass as his tongue moves. You’re so slick. He can feel the way your little button grows under his tongue. His cock aches to feel you around him. 

Not yet, Steve, he reminds himself. He can feel you shuddering under him. He can see your eyes flutter. He needs you to come. You’re close. He closes his lips against your clit, and sucks gently while running his tongue against you with a persistent pressure.

Gone. You’re gone. You can feel fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass, keeping you from floating off the bed and into the air. You can imagine yourself drifting off through the vastness of space fueled by the ecstasy you feel. Your body trembles. You cry out for him, you cry out for your Stevie. Your sweet boy. 

Your cries of his name undo him. His lips are still attached to you, still letting you ride out your orgasm while one of his hands unzips his pants. His cock aches. The immediate need, releasing the painful constriction of his jeans, isn’t enough. He needs to be inside of you. Your eyes finally meet his again. 

“Please, Steve. Please. I need you inside me.” Your begging is met with a groan against your cunt. His lips let go, and you see how red they are. Swollen from their work. You rock against nothing at the sight. The slow and steady movements are gone now. Steve throws his shirt - pants - socks - boxers - to the side with speed. He’s laid bare in front of you, a marble statue brought to life. 

Your legs open to receive him, and he slots between them. Steve fills you up with the first thrust, and you’re seeing stars. You’re vaguely aware of the sound leaving your throat, something between a moan and a cry. Steve’s hand is in yours, a thumb runs against a finger in a soothing way. You both sink into each other. You both feel everything.

“You’re so soft.” Steve’s soft whisper against your neck vibrates against your skin. “So soft. You feel so good.” 

Soft words are contrasted by rough thrusts of hips desperate to push your bodies to connect as deeply as possible. Mmm, so good. So fucking good, Stevie. Steve is gone. He can’t be reached now. He’s lost in the soft flesh of your body under him. He’s used to the sharp angles of Eddie. His mind is gone, his body is moving on its own. He can feel how close he is already, lost in your warmth. 

It’s not a lightning crash. Not an earthquake. It’s soft, like every other moment between the two of you. Steve’s face in your neck, his hand gripping yours. He comes undone with your scent in his nose, and your taste on his lips. His hips slow, and you pull him tighter. You hold him close to your sweat slicked chest. You let him rest there, on your pillowy skin, bodies still joined. 

That’s how you stay that night. Holding one another, leaving the mess you both made for the daylight hours. When you wake in the morning, you find that Steve’s hand is still holding yours.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut #eddie munson x steve harrington #steddie x reader #steddie x reader smut #steddie x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader

[ladykailitha]

Batshit Soulmates Part 8

Second chapter of the day. In which I resolve the original cliffhanger and leave you with another.

In Medias Res| Prologue|Pt 1|Pt 2|Pt 3|Pt 4|Pt 5|Pt 6|Pt 7|

****

Steve was not a fan of the plan. Of any of their plans, really. But he went along with it anyway. What choice did he have? It wasn’t as though he just pick up his ball and go home. Not when they needed him.

He was forced to watch Eddie armed with a small bag of tools break into an RV. Once Eddie was in, Steve set about helping everyone else in. Erica first, Lucas, Dustin, Nancy, and finally Robin. Then hauled himself in.

Immediately he sought out Eddie.

He leaned on the seat as he watched his soulmate pull out a pair of pliers.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to start this thing?” Steve asked, unsure.

Eddie yanked out some wires from under the steering column. "While all the other dads were teaching their kids to fish or to play ball...my old man was teaching me how to hotwire.” He stripped the wires. “Now I swore to myself I wouldn't wind up like he did, but now I'm wanted for murder and soon grand theft auto so...uh, yeah really living up to that Munson name."

Robin came up to them and gently leaned on Steve’s shoulder, careful of the road rash.

“Eddie,” she softly, but clearly concerned. “I’m not sure I like the idea of you driving.”

Eddie grinned. “Oh, I’m just getting her started. Stevie’s got her, don’cha, big boy?” He leaned forward so close that Steve was sure he was going to kiss him.

Steve’s lips pursed without meaning to, but Eddie was already pulling away.

Just then then the RV roared to life and the owners of said RV started banging on the door, screaming.

Eddie and Steve looked at them and then each other.

They swapped places, Steve immediately slamming on the gas pedal. And away they went.

****

They made a short stop at Steve’s car to get his wallet so that he could pay for all the shit they were going to need, but in no time at all, they had arrived at The War Zone.

Steve gave Erica, Robin, and Nancy a list of things to get. Max, Lucas, Eddie, and Dustin would watch the RV.

Nancy went straight to the guns, which surprised no one. She had been able to wear some of Max’s clothes, but Robin and Steve made for the combat gear first. They removed all the tags and got dressed, Steve grabbing two pairs of boots but not stopping to put either pair on. They were in a hurry and there were too many laces.

He came up behind Robin and started putting in more gas cans into her cart.

She looked up to see Vickie standing there, talking to her boyfriend and she just stopped.

Steve followed her line of vision. “I’m sorry, Robs.”

Robin closed her eyes and looked away. But Steve saw that Vickie looked over at Robin and then back at her boyfriend. They were too far away, but it looked like whatever Vickie had seen had made her hiss something at her boyfriend. He turned away just their argument got heated.

He had a world to save.

Nancy came up and touched his elbow. “We’ve got to hurry,” she hissed. “Carver’s here and he’s loading up on arsenal too.”

Steve’s body began to quake at the thought of him getting Eddie. He nodded and grabbed everyone. He paid with his father’s credit card and dashed out of the store as if Venca himself was on his heels. Or more like, as if Jason Carver was on his heels. Because he was.

Still barefoot, he hopped into the driver’s seat and told everyone to hold on. He gunned it and drove to a secluded spot where they could prepare for the final show down.

Erica threw the second pair of boots at Eddie and he put them on.

“Those tennis shoes are going to fall apart if you look at them funny,” she explained when he looked up at her in shock.

Inside the bag she had thrown at him was a tactical vest and bullet belt. He loved Steve’s feral children with all his heart. They clearly looked after their own.

Steve sat down with Robin making Molotov cocktails, having found a few bottles of alcohol in the RV.

He looked out at his ragtag army and a shudder went through him. Nancy and Max were sawing off the barrel of Nancy’s shot gun. Eddie and Dustin had finished making their nail shields and were rough housing in the field. The Sinclair siblings were making spears out of long sticks and hunting knives.

“We shouldn’t have to do this,” he whispered.

Robin looked up at him and then out at their friends. “I know.”

“I’m sorry about Vickie,” he murmured. “I guess I was wrong about her.”

Robin shook her head. “I can’t think about that right now. I have to focus on this.”

Steve nodded.

“I’m sorry about Eddie,” she muttered. “Finding your soulmate like that and not knowing if you two are going to live to make use of it...”

He let out a long sigh. “I know. But at the same time, I’m happy he’s here. He’s been so helpful. A lot of this wouldn’t have been possible without him. And I’m grateful.”

She pursed her lips and looked back out at Eddie, who was desperate to keep the kids’ spirits up.

“Yeah,” she said. “You found yourself a good one.”

****

They got to the Gate and Steve tumbled in first, doing a back flip to land deftly on his feet.

Nancy, Robin, Dustin, and Eddie who were watching from below were surprised at the move.

Robin scoffed. “What does he want us to do, clap?”

Steve winced and went in search of the mattress. When he came back into view Eddie started clapping.

Robin and Nancy glared at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, clearly not sorry, “but what he did was cool and should be rewarded for it.”

Steve looked back up at them and gave them a thumbs up. Nancy went first, then Dustin and Robin. Eddie coming in last.

Steve helped him to his feet and they were close. Chest to chest almost. Their breathes mingled and their eyes locked on each other’s.

Dustin pushed between them and broke the moment.

Eddie was sure in that moment, Steve was going to kill the kid.

They walked outside of the trailer and Steve looked like he was about to cry.

“Don’t be heroes,” Steve begged. “If things go south, I want you to run. You two are just the–”

“Decoys,” Eddie said with a smirk. “We know. Look at us, do either of us look like heroes?”

Steve nodded and then turned and walked away.

Eddie called out, “Steve!”

Steve looked back, eyes full of hope.

“Make him pay.” He couldn’t make himself say the three words he had been wanting to say since learned the real Steve Harrington.

Steve nodded again, but Eddie could see the light leave his eyes.

Dustin hit him and hissed, “Kiss him!”

Oh.

Then Eddie was running. He spun Steve back around and pressed his lips to Steve’s.

Steve melted in his arms and Eddie knew it was the right thing to do.

They said their real goodbyes and Dustin and Eddie watched as the three of them went to go take on Vecna.

****

Between him and Dustin they were able to get the trailer shored up as best as they could against the onslaught of demobats. The trailer looked less like home and more like a fortress, but it couldn’t be helped. It needed to protect them.

Eddie walked into his bedroom, carefully skirting the vines that taken over his home. And there completely untouched by the vines was his Warlock.

“She looks like she was born to play in another dimension,” he breathed, reaching out to touch the strings.

He pulled her off the wall and swung her over his shoulder. He turned to Dustin, “You ready for the most metal concert in the world?”

Dustin’s face lit up. “Hell yeah!”

They made their way to the roof and Dustin plugged Eddie into the sound system they had rigged up.

Eddie pulled off his pick necklace and gave it a kiss. “This concert is for you, Chrissy!”

Then he laid into his guitar, starting the opening chords of “Master of Puppets”.

The bats that had been tearing toward Steve and the girls suddenly stopped and turned toward Dustin and Eddie instead.

The bats couldn’t attack while the song was playing it was messing with their echolocation.

Dustin crossed his fingers hoped that seven minutes was long enough to defeat Vecna, because that was all the time Steve and them were going to get.

The song was over and they dove back into the trailer. Then the demobats descended on them, clawing and screeching and fighting their way into the trailer. Dustin made it up the rope ladder, but Eddie could see them struggling their way into the trailer.

He yelled at Dustin to get a hold of Steve and booked it.

Steve had told him to run, he just hadn’t been clear where to run to. So Eddie ran toward Steve. Toward the person that knew him best next to his Uncle. Not because they were soulmates. But because Steve cared.

Suddenly they were fighting side by side. As equals this time, instead of Eddie saving Steve, they worked as a team.

But there were too many bats.

They were going to die.

Eddie held his shield above his head and hoped that he could protect them long enough for Nancy and Robin to kill Vecna.

There were the sounds of demobats hitting the ground, some of them hit the shield, but most of them rained down around them.

Eddie opened his eyes and looked out over the barren wasteland that was Lover’s Lake in the top world.

Littered around them were the dead bodies of hundreds and hundreds of demobats.

Eddie stood up and walked over to one to kick it with his foot.

Steve came up behind him and peered over his shoulder. “Are they dead?”

Eddie shrugged. “It appears like it.”

“What the hell happened?” Steve asked.

“Steve!” Dustin cried. “Eddie!”

The two older boys turned as one.

“It’s Max!” he cried. “She’s been hurt!”

****

I couldn't find a way to put in the story itself, but the reason Vickie was with Dan in the first place is that he lied about being her soulmate. He has a treble clef on his back near where her trumpet is on her shoulder blade. And when he comes back for college for spring break she learns that he's been cheating on her with his real soulmate. That's what they're fighting about here because she realizes who her real soulmate is.

Part 9 Epilogue

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @swimmingbirdrunningrock

@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi

@messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv

@wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch

@littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @oxidantdreamboat @mogami13

@samsoble @xandriumbat @ellietheasexylibrarian @lololol-1234 @y4r3luv

@disrespectedgoatman @king-zacharyy @chameleonhair @tinyplanet95

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #soulmate au

[candycandy00]

Could you right a zombie apocalypse au with dabi? I don’t have any idea about how it could go but always love the only one bed trope haha

The Trade Part 1 - A Dabi x Reader Zombie AU

Splitting this into parts because it was getting too long. Part one has no smut (but there will be plenty in part two, don’t worry!).

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Smut to follow in part two, strong language, violence, implied (failed) rape attempt, etc. 18+.

The first time you saw the mysterious black haired man in the woods, you were convinced he was one of them. After all, in the shadows of the trees his extensive, deep purple scarring had looked like wounds. He’d walked slowly, almost lumbering. It wasn’t until later that you realized his unusual gait was due to him dragging a large animal behind him. 

When he emerged from the forest and into the sunlight, with you watching silently from the tree line, you finally understood that this was no zombie. It was a scarred man who had just killed a deer for his supper. 

From there, you followed him to a clearing by the road, where a rusty white van was parked. You stayed hidden just inside the woods as you watched him set up camp around the van. He drove plastic gardening stakes into the ground all around him, then wrapped some sort of wire around them, marking a perimeter. He then methodically tied empty cans in sets of threes to the wire, every few feet. It seemed like a lot of work, but it would definitely alert him if a zombie wandered into his area. 

He didn’t seem to have any system in place to detect human interlopers though, as they could easily spot the cans and step over them. Either he was foolish enough to believe he was completely alone out here, or he was confident enough in his ability to defend himself that he wasn’t worried. You hoped it was the former. 

He started a small fire, then went to work skinning and cleaning the deer. You took note of the fact that he seemed to have plenty of supplies, including bottled water. You couldn’t help licking your dry lips. You’d been drinking water from a nearby river, but it was unfiltered, and sometimes made you sick. You drank as little of it as possible, so it kept you alive but you were persistently thirsty. 

When he began cooking the deer meat, you had a battle on your hands to keep your stomach from growling loudly enough to give away your presence. You reached into your tattered backpack and pulled out the last strip of rabbit jerky you had. A family you’d met over a week ago had given you some wrapped in paper, and you’d made it last as long as you could. Aside from a fish you’d managed to catch in the river and three potatoes you’d dug out of an abandoned garden, the jerky was all you’d eaten in ten days. 

The deer meat smelled delicious, but you didn’t dare approach. You had to observe this man for a while first. He’d pulled several things out of his van, so it clearly had lots of supplies inside. If you could learn his habits, maybe you could steal from him. You’d certainly done it before, to anyone who seemed to have more than they absolutely needed. 

Eventually you retreated further into the woods and climbed into a tree to sleep. It was the only way you could rest while knowing zombies roamed about. The next morning, the man with the van was gone, and you cursed yourself for sleeping so soundly. 

Two days later, you spotted the man coming out of a convenience store that had obviously been looted already. It was in a tiny, empty town, and you’d crept in to look for food. When you heard loud crashes and bangs coming from the store, you ducked into an alley across the street and watched. 

The glass door of the shop burst open as a zombie was seemingly thrown outside. As it tried to stand back up, the black haired man stepped out of the store, holding an aluminum baseball bat. He pressed his boot into the zombie’s chest to hold it down, then swung the bat, smashing the zombie’s head with one hit. 

Two more zombies followed him out of the store, and three others lumbered over from nearby streets, attracted to the commotion. You felt a sense of panic, even though you were hidden and far enough away that you could easily flee before any of them reached you. Zombies in general did not scare you. They were slow and dumb and easy to lure into traps. You’d killed plenty with your hunting knife. But in groups, they could be terrifying. Any more than three at a time sent you into flight mode. 

The man was surrounded by five zombies, but he didn’t seem worried or scared at all. In fact, he seemed… pissed off. 

He swung the bat with a fury that made you more nervous than the zombies did, splattering blood and brains all over the concrete beneath his feet. When only one was left, he hit it over and over, long after it had stopped moving and its head had been reduced to mush. 

“Motherfuckers!” he screamed. Then he panted as he regained his composure. He shoved the bat into a sling at his back and went back into the store. Later, he emerged carrying a crate full of stuff. You couldn’t see much of what he had, but you were pretty sure he had found some useful items left behind by looters. 

He climbed into his van and left. This time, you were not alarmed by losing sight of him. Clearly the two of you were traveling in the same direction, and even though he was traveling faster in his van, he was apparently making stops along the way, probably to hunt. You’d catch up to him again, you felt certain of it. 

You decided to venture into the store. It was very likely that he had cleared any zombies from the interior, and it had been several minutes since the fight outside and no other zombies had appeared. 

Inside, the shelves were almost completely bare, save for some trash and items deemed too useless to bother carrying around - toys, a pair of foam flip flops, a cane that looked too flimsy to be a proper mobility aid. You got down on the floor and looked under the shelves. A fellow survivor you met two months ago had told you about this trick. “People tend to be in a hurry when they’re gathering supplies,” he’d explained, “so they end up dropping stuff. Some of it ends up kicked under the shelves and the people who come in later don’t think to check there.”

Beneath the shelf to your right, you found a package of expired gummy bears. You ripped them open and shoved a handful in your mouth, savoring the juicy sweetness. They were the best gummy bears you’d ever eaten. When you had half the pack left, you rolled it down and pushed it into your backpack for later. 

Under the shelf to your left, you found a bottle of shampoo that was open and spilling out. You grabbed it and closed the lid. There was still over half a bottle left! You hadn’t shampooed your hair in over a month, so this would be a luxurious treat.

You found a few more items under the other shelves: a single battery that would fit your flashlight (you hoped it wasn’t drained), a small box of bandaids, and (most precious of all), an unopened bottle of sweet tea. 

These treasures safely tucked in your backpack, you left the store and headed in the same direction you’d seen the white van leave in.  As you passed by the alley you’d hidden in earlier, a pair of pale white hands suddenly reached out from it and grabbed your arm. You jerked free, repulsed by the feeling of cold, damp flesh on your skin. 

A single zombie shambled out of the alley, arms raised in front of it as it reached for you again, mouth biting the air in anticipation of tasting human meat. You backed away from it as you slid the hunting knife out of the holster on your thigh. In most cases, you chose not to fight or kill zombies. It was messy and, even in the best circumstances, risky. Plus it was a pain to sanitize your knife in a fire before using it to skin the small animals your sometimes caught. 

You looked back at the store. Should you lure it in there and shut the door? But that would leave a rather nasty surprise for the next person who came along and decided to check the store for supplies. You sighed and pulled your backpack off as you continued backing away, keeping a modest distance from the zombie. If there was a struggle, you didn’t want to risk your backpack being ripped or damaged. It was sturdy and easy to carry, and who knew when you’d come across another one? You dropped it on the ground and backed a few more feet away. 

Once you felt you were in a good position (plenty of open space in all directions so you could flee if necessary), you stopped and waited for the zombie to get closer. Once it was near enough to almost touch you with its outstretched arms, you quickly ducked around behind it and shoved your knife into its ear. The arms dropped, then the body collapsed onto the pavement. You retrieved the knife and breathed a sigh of relief as you wiped the blade off on the zombie’s shirt. 

Poor bastard. He died in the most hideous lime green T-shirt you’d ever seen. 

You picked up your backpack and left the small town, excited to drink some of your tea later in the evening. 

It took you four days to find the man with the van again, and it was totally by accident. You’d followed the nearby river to a waterfall. You’d grown up in this area, so you remembered there being a waterfall around here somewhere. Figuring it would be a great place to wash up and use that shampoo you found, you followed the sound of rushing water until you spotted it. 

The waterfall wasn’t huge, but it was high enough that falling from it would probably be dangerous. The water at the base of it, near where you stood, was only around four feet deep, as you recalled. You and your friends would occasionally go swimming there during particularly hot summers. You remembered picnics under the shade of the trees that lined the river, laughter as you took turns running into the falling water. The memories made you feel numb more than anything else. 

As you stood there beside a tree, you heard a loud splash. You ducked behind the tree by reflex, then peeked around it to see the man emerging from the water. Had he been under for the whole three or four minutes you’d been there? All your thoughts suddenly froze in your brain when you realized the man was completely naked. Apparently he also thought this was a good place to bathe. 

His body was marred by the same deep purple scarring that covered parts of his face and arms, like a patchwork. There was something oddly mesmerizing about those scars. He was lean, with just the right amount of muscle, and his black hair glistened in the sun as water dripped from the tips and ran down his torso. 

As he stepped out of the water, you couldn’t help stealing a glance at the rather impressive appendage between his legs. Even wet and cold, it looked pleasingly large. 

The man walked over to small brown bag and pulled out a towel. How had you missed that bag? Regardless, he toweled off and then spread the towel on the ground and sat down. He pulled a can of what looked like beer from the bag and cracked it open. Then he pulled out a tattered paperback book and leaned over on his side. 

Was he seriously just going to relax by the river… naked? That’s when you noticed the handle of some sort of weapon sticking out of the bag. He certainly wasn’t defenseless. You’d seen his incredible strength a few days before. 

With a start, you realized this was a great opportunity to check out his van. It had to be parked close by, and the man clearly planned to be there for a while. You took one more long look at his well toned body before tearing your eyes away and heading back into the woods. 

The trees were tall and their dark green foliage nearly blotted out the sunlight above you. But there was enough light to spot a white van amongst the browns and greens of the forest, so it didn’t take you long to find it. 

You approached carefully, remembering the man’s tendency to use traps and systems to alert him of danger. The leaves were moist and slippery under your feet, perfect for remaining silent as you stepped lightly around the van to reach the back. Then your heart dropped to your feet. 

The back doors of the van were covered in wire lined with metal cans. It would be physically impossible to open them without causing a huge racket. You checked the side doors, and they were locked tight. You had some experience breaking into vehicles, though you were definitely no expert. You peered in through the window, only to spot more wires and cans tied to the inside of each door. 

You sighed and walked away, heading back to the waterfall. When you reached the trees you’d hidden in before, the man was pulling on a faded black T-shirt over his ripped jeans.  He looked good in them. He gathered the rest of his belongings into the brown bag, zipped it up, and walked off in the direction of his van. He passed within twenty feet of you, but you were perfectly still behind a tree. 

You waited for a while after he left, to be sure he didn’t return for something he forgot, then you moved close to the water, slipped off your backpack and pulled out a few items. A change of clothes, a towel, and the shampoo you’d been saving. You stripped off your clothes, leaving only the thigh holster with your knife snapped inside. You washed the clothes you took off in the water then draped them over low branches in the nearby trees to dry. 

Finally, you stepped into the water and dipped your whole head in to get your hair wet. The water was cool, but not enough to be uncomfortable. It looked crystal clear and clean, and it soothed the various cuts and scrapes you’d incurred over the past several days. 

You squeezed out some shampoo before tossing the bottle onto the shore and lathering up your hair. It smelled heavenly! Like fresh flowers and honey. You rubbed the lather all over your body, figuring that if men had been using one product for their hair and bodies for years, so could you. 

Once you were covered in soap, you went over to the waterfall and stood under it, letting it rinse you clean. It felt so close to an actual shower, you nearly cried. 

You played around in the water for a little while, then stepped out and dried off before dressing in clean clothes. You relaxed by the water, just as the man had done, while waiting for your wet clothes to dry. The sun, reaching you now that you were out of the woods, felt warm on your skin. 

You left back through the woods, but just before you broke free of the tree line by the highway, you heard the distinctive sound of someone walking. Someone alive. Twigs snapped and leaves crunched, the noise so close that you whirled around to look for the source. 

Two men approached from the direction of down river. You could smell them from several yards away. Apparently being so close to the river had not inspired them to wash up, at all. They appeared to be in their mid thirties, both sporting unkempt beards and long, scraggly hair. Both carried backpacks, rifles on their backs, and numerous knives attached to their belts. 

These were exactly the sort of people you tried to avoid. In your time on your own, you only approached certain types: women, families, small mixed groups that seemed to get along with each other. You never approached single men, much less multiple men together with no woman in sight. 

Usually, you were extremely vigilant. You always spotted other people in plenty of time to hide or flee if they seemed like bad news. In the early weeks of the outbreak, when you’d first ventured out on your own, you’d met a younger girl who was exceptionally good at sneaking around and avoiding being caught by the living or the dead. You’d traveled with her for a while, learning her techniques as well as how to use a knife. Since then, you’d always managed to evade danger. But today you had dropped your guard. Perhaps the shower had been a little too relaxing. 

“Hey there,” one of the men said, throwing up his hand in a wave. 

You debated whether you should make a run for it or not. They had rifles, so they could probably shoot your legs out from under you if they wanted to. You stood completely still, watching them as they got closer. 

“You out here alone, girl?” 

“No,” you said, trying to keep your voice firm, “my friends are waiting for me just up the road.”

You hoped they would believe the lie, that they’d rather avoid getting into a fight with a group they knew nothing about. 

“That’s funny,” the other man said, “we walked along the road for a long time and we didn’t see anyone waiting for you. Are you sure they didn’t leave you behind?”

His tone made it clear that he didn’t believe you. Shit. How could you get out of this situation? You kept yourself steady and replied. “Really? Maybe they parked in the woods. They do that sometimes, for the shade.”

“Good idea,” the first man said. “These trees sure do block out the sun. They block out a lot of stuff.”

“Well,” you said casually as you turned toward the road, “I better head over there before they get worried and come looking for me.”

You made it a few steps away, walking at a leisurely pace to feign nonchalance, when you heard fast, heavy footsteps running toward you. Glancing back, you saw one of the men rapidly closing the distance, holding up the butt of his rifle like a club. 

You broke into a run then, but you didn’t make it far. The rifle struck your head, your vision blurred and darkened, and you felt yourself falling over. You were unconscious before you ever hit the ground. 

*****

When you woke up, you heard the sounds of a crackling fire before your eyes adjusted to the bright orange light against the murky darkness of the forest. 

You were lying on your side on the ground, close enough to the fire to feel its heat on your skin. Your hands were tied together in front of you with thick, coarse rope that rubbed your wrists in an unpleasant way. One of the men was sitting nearby, skinning a rabbit. The other, the one who had knocked you out, was standing on the other side of the fire, stoking it with a long stick. Your backpack was lying a few feet away from you. 

Afternoon had turned to dusk, still light enough to see without a fire or flashlight, but dark enough to make you wary. From your experience, fires in the woods at night were not the best idea. The glow sometimes attracted zombies, so only groups with enough people to keep watch normally lit them. You had stuck to small fires in the daytime, just lit long enough to cook some food or boil some water from the river. Zombies didn’t know to look for smoke.  

The two men didn’t seem to be conversing at all, so pretending to be asleep to listen to them was pointless. You pulled yourself to a sitting position, your knees pulled up in front of you. They hadn’t bothered to take your knife from the holster on your thigh. Had they simply not noticed it? Or did they think you were this little of a threat? 

The man standing at the fire noticed you were awake and flashed you a smile. It was a repulsive smile, accompanied by dark eyes moving over you hungrily. You could guess why they had taken you captive. You’d heard plenty of stories. You glared at him and steeled yourself for a fight. 

“We’ll have dinner first,” he said in his rough voice, gesturing toward his friend with the stick. “Then we’ll have dessert,” he added with a grin, pointing the stick at you. His friend chuckled. 

You suddenly felt like throwing up. These men were disgusting, with their leering stares and stinking bodies. The thought of one of them touching you for even a moment sent ripples of revulsion through your entire body. 

Shame it wasn’t the handsome black haired stranger with the scars. 

Wait… did you seriously just think that? Ugh. You’d been out here in the woods for far too long. 

You tried to stay calm as you assessed the situation. The good: you still had your knife, and your hands were tied in front of you instead of behind you. Cutting yourself free would be easy once you got away. You also knew these woods fairly well, and were accustomed to moving around in the dark. The bad: there were two of them, and they were clearly much stronger than you. They both had those rifles too. 

You glanced around, taking in the now blazing fire and the positions of the two men in relation to it. You almost smiled. This was nearly identical to a scenario Toga, the girl you’d traveled with, had told you about being in before she met you. And you remembered exactly how she’d said she escaped. 

You scooted over a bit, making a show of wincing and leaning as if your backside was sore. You needed to have both men on the other side of the fire from you. The one sitting on the ground cleaning the rabbit would be easy. The other was pacing back and forth, occasionally stirring the branches and logs in the fire. If you timed it just right…

There! As soon as the pacing man got close to the other one, and they were both across the fire from you, you suddenly kicked out both your legs, shoving your boots into the base of the fire. Sparks and embers flew everywhere, flames reached out like glowing hands and crawled along the ground, alighting leaves and twigs. The sitting man yelped and fell backwards, the other one cursed and backed away from the flames, but he was too slow. Fire danced up his pant leg as he screamed and tried to put it out by slapping at it with his hand. 

In the chaos you got to your feet, grabbed your backpack off the ground, and ran into the trees. You heard one of the men yelling for the other to go after you, then a screamed reply of “Fuck you, I’m on fire!”

Once you’d ran so far that you could no longer hear their shouts or see the glow from the fire, you huddled next to a tree and used your knife to cut the rope, freeing yourself. You holstered the knife and pulled your backpack onto your shoulders, then looked around for a hiding spot. The woods were getting darker by the minute, but that was an advantage for you, not them. 

Eventually you found a tree that was perfect, and you climbed it quietly and carefully. You tucked yourself against the trunk and nestled into the branch, an action deeply familiar to you by now. Around half an hour later, you heard one of the men run by your tree. By that time it was so dark that you would’ve been shocked if he’d spotted you. After that, you only heard the usual sounds of the forest as you drifted off to sleep. 

The next morning you didn’t climb down immediately. You used your high vantage point to look out over the area, scanning the woods for any sign of the two men. Would they give up on you, deeming you too much of a hassle to deal with? Or would last night’s events only make them pursue you more doggedly? You couldn’t be sure, but you also couldn’t spend the entire day up in the tree. After watching for a few more minutes and feeling certain the men were not close by, you climbed down to the ground. 

You headed to the river first to wash your face and fill your water bottle. You doubted you’d be able to start a fire today, for fear that the smoke would give away your location, so you couldn’t boil the water. You grimaced at the thought of drinking raw river water again, but you’d sip it if you absolutely had to. Having an upset stomach was better than being dead. There was maybe a mouthful of sweet tea left in the bottle you’d found in the store, but you wanted to save it for as long as you could. 

When ready, you made your way back through the woods and to the trees that lined the highway. You didn’t dare step out into the open. Too many dangerous folks traveling the roads. But you stayed close enough to be able to see the highway at all times. You rarely saw cars going by these days. The last one you’d seen, besides the white van, had been over a week ago. 

You walked through the edge of the forest, moving in the same direction you had been for a few weeks now. You didn’t have a particular destination in mind. You simply wanted to keep moving, keep away from people, stay near the river where you could always get water and sometimes even catch fish, stick to the woods where you could occasionally catch a squirrel or a rabbit. It wasn’t a great life, but it was all you had at the moment. 

You’d walked nearly the whole day when you saw a very welcome sight: the white van parked just inside the woods, several yards ahead. You were surprised that you’d caught up with him so quickly, especially after being slowed down by those two assholes last night. 

As usual, you approached it carefully. When you got close enough, you realized the back door was standing wide open. No wires or cans had been strung up. The driver’s side door was open as well. 

What the hell was going on? 

There was no way the man would leave his van like this. Even if he suddenly had to shit, he wouldn’t leave his stash of supplies completely unguarded. Had he been attacked? The image of the two men flashed in your mind. The black haired man was strong, but they had guns. They could have forced him out of the van. But in that case, where were they? 

You circled around the van from a distance, looking for signs or clues as to what had happened. You strained your ears to listen for footsteps, but you heard nothing. Could the man have been attacked by zombies? Maybe he stepped out to pee, was suddenly surrounded, and had to run deeper into the woods to get away. 

Mind racing with possible explanations, you decided to watch the van for a little while, in case someone came for it. After nearly an hour, the woods were getting dark again. If you were going to make a move, now was the time. You took a deep breath, then walked over to the back of the van. You peered inside, and to your hungry, desperate eyes, it looked like the holy grail. The entire back of the van was filled to the brim with supplies. 

You climbed up into it and looked around in wonder. There were cases full of canned goods, bottled water, snacks, and even a few packs of beer. There were boxes with things written on them like, “bandages,” “batteries,” and “soap”. Curiously, there were several boxes of black hair dye. It almost looked like the storeroom of some convenience store. 

All of this was too suspicious. You didn’t dare grab a lot of stuff. What if the man really did have to suddenly relieve himself? Or had to run from zombies but was circling back around to his van? You decided to be cautious and grab only a small number of items, things he probably wouldn’t even notice. Then you could watch the van from an afar and grab more stuff if he never came back. 

You opened your backpack and shoved in two bottles of water, a can of peaches, a can of pork and beans, a bag of potato chips, and two chocolate candy bars. The carbs would come in very handy. You’d had so little energy lately. Pleased with your choices, you zipped up your backpack and pulled it on, then turned to exit the van. 

You stopped dead in your tracks. Standing right outside the van, staring at you with one hand on his hip, was the black haired man.  He looked at you with a deadpan expression and said, “Looks like I caught myself a thief.”

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #Dabi #touya todoroki #touya x reader #bnha zombie AU #Dabi x you #X reader #bnha x reader

[colourstreakgryffin]

The Six Pillars; Masterlist #1~

The animes I do write for is Demon Slayer, Jujutsu Kaisen, JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Death Note, Haikyuu and Record of Ragnarok~! But I also want to do writing for the current communities and shows I am vested in so I’d love for requests of Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss! Don’t have to but that’d be appreciated, any character from those two shows!

I’ll write absolutely any type of concept like angst, drama, romantic love to platonic love, NSFW, fluff, comfort, character x character, character x reader. I’d prefer to stay away from very intense situations like r**e, su****e, death since I don’t wish to make a mockery of these themes, I am not the best with reader x OC requests and I do not like choosing characters myself nor coming up with the scenario, please do these yourself! It’s your request, not mine! My main work is anime, primarily Demon Slayer!

Enough on that now! It’s time for the Masterlist~!I present you my work! Do as you please with this!

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Pillar #1: Demon Slayer~❤️

❤️ Akaza: Of Different Worlds

💜 Obanai: Back Off

🌈 Douma: Snuggly Orders

❤️ Muzan: All Mine

🖤 Gyomei: Toasty Blood

💙 Giyuu: Fuzzy Morals

💜 Obanai: Serpents and Arachnids

❤️💜🧡 Tanjiro, Obanai and Kyojuro: Ribboned-up Niffty

💛 Hotaru: Nothing or Everything

💙 Muichiro: Wire of Fate

💜 Nakime: Hot Red Strings

💙 Giyuu: Sky-High Fortitude

💜 Obanai: Dragon Tamer

💙❤️💙 Muichiro, Tanjiro and Giyuu: Eating Drama

🖤 Gyomei: Typhoon Shelter

❤️ Tengen: The Best and the Worst

💜 Obanai: Sheathed Blade

💚❤️💙💛 Karaku, Sekido, Aizetsu and Urogi: Fishing for Prizes

🩷💜💚 Kanae, Shinobu and Kanao: Near-Death Experience

🩷🧡💜 Mitsuri, Kyojuro and Shinobu: Doll Mattress

💙 Aoi: Horseyback Rides

💙 Muichiro: Rest Now

💜💜💚 Shinobu, Obanai and Sanemi: Victim Issues

💜 Genya: Unlikely Partnership

💙🩷🖤 Giyuu, Mitsuri and Gyomei: Hook Hashira

💜 Shinobu: Eyes on the Walls

❤️ Tanjiro: Wait, Your Majesty

🌈 Douma: Sharing a Heart

💚 Kanao: Feeling Flop

🧡💜💚 Kyojuro, Obanai and Sanemi: Past and Future

Pillar #2: Jujutsu Kaisen~💜

🖤 Noritoshi: Numb Senses

❤️❤️ Choso and Ryomen: Tiger Eye

❤️ Choso: One of the Same

❤️ Choso: Styling Perfection

💛 Kento: Eclipse Heart

❤️ Naoya: Toxic River

Pillar #3: JoJo Bizarre Adventure~💚

💙💚💛 Jonathan, Erina and DIO: Clock Delay

Pillar #4: Death Note~💙

—

Pillar #5: Haikyuu~💛

Osamu and Atsumu: Plus Three

❤️ Kenma: Level 0; Training

🧡 Hinata: Impressing You

🧡💙💚 Atsumu, Osamu and Rintarõ: Clown of Mischief

Pillar #6: Record of Ragnorak~🩷

💚💙 Adam and Eve: Broken Little Heart

💜 Loki: Appreciation and Simp Post

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Hell Show Pillar~🖤

❤️💙 Alastor and Vox: Climbing the Ladder

🖤 Rosie: Fire Lily

🖤 Carmilla Carmine: Love at First Meeting

💙 Vaggie: Bolt Spear

💙 Vox: Cameras and TVs

🖤 Husk: Dolling Up

🖤 Husk: Glass Barfly

🖤 Husk: Daddy’s Little Girl

💛 Emily: Counting Sheep

❤️ Alastor: Three Glowing Candles

💛 Charlie: Balloon Soul

🖤 Husk: Pootie-Kitty

🖤🩷 Husk and Angel Dust: Growing Up

❤️🩷💛 Alastor, Velvette and Emily: Mirage Mind

❤️ Alastor: Yin and Yang, Light and Dark

🖤❤️💙 Husk, Cherri and Vox: Pink Shoes

💛 Adam: Stem of the Apple

❤️🖤 Alastor and Rosie: Blood Spill

💚💙 Fizzarolli and Asmodeus: Ruby in the Rough

❤️ Alastor: Picking Favourites

❤️ Alastor: A Little Game

❤️ Blitzo: Guns & Volleyballs

🖤 Husk: Precious Kitten

❤️Alastor: Rose Drop

❤️ Alastor: Staying Here

❤️ Alastor: Fresh Meat

❤️ Alastor: Rainbow Irises

❤️ Alastor: Old Habits, Never Die

❤️ Alastor: Diamond Trio

💙 Vox: Vampire Canine

❤️ Alastor: Rabbitfoot

❤️ Alastor: Lies and Deception

❤️ Alastor: Little Mistake

❤️❤️🖤 Alastor, Lucifer and Husk: Wildcard

❤️ Alastor: Smile, My Dear

❤️💙🩷 Alastor, Vox and Velvette: Getting Over It

❤️ Alastor: Crystal Heart

❤️ Alastor: Beauty from Within

❤️ Alastor: Blood Draw

❤️ Alastor: Shopping Trip

❤️ Alastor: All the More Demons

❤️ Alastor: Follow Me

❤️ Alastor: Mischievous Rumours

❤️ Alastor: the Prey and the Predator

❤️ Alastor: Redemption Path

❤️ Alastor: Chaotic I.M.P

❤️ Alastor: Night & Day

❤️ Alastor: Reaching Out

❤️ Alastor: Hell’s Angel

❤️ Alastor: Hopping Little Heart

Here is the first temple of this blog’s lengthy Masterlist~ Masterlist #2

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #jujutsu kaisen #sorcery fight #jojo’s bizarre adventure #haikyuu #death note #record of ragnorak #anime and manga #demon slayer x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #death note x reader #jojo’s bizarre adventure x reader #haikyuu x reader #record of ragnorak x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #vivzieverse