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luxurychristmaspudding · 5 days ago

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summary: after a night out dancing and a lift home turns into something more, you learn something about your dad's buddy. joel miller fucks.

pairing: young!joel miller x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. it's smut, y'all. everything you've come to expect. respectable age gap (10 years ish), tiny bit of spanking, one (1) gentle pussy slap, lil bit of daddy kink, joel miller eats it from the back (oral (f&m)), edging, unprotected piv (do better), creampie, feelings, joel miller's whore mouth.

reader has hair and wears dresses, no other descriptions or name.

wc: 7.2k

an: for @schnarfer. my favourite hot priest, i worship in your church <3

Joel went out looking for trouble that night.

Hair curling at the nape of his neck, a beer sweltering in his hand as beads of sweat carved their way down the strong line of his back. T-shirt sticking to his skin, tension wound tight in his shoulders, thick in every muscle, every strand of sinew after work.

Revelling in the feeling of how the weight of the day lifted the more he drank, the more he relaxed, feeling his smile get wider the more he loosened up in the crowded bar. Freshly thirty five, another year in hand. Tommy buying the shots, introducing him to every new face that walked into the steaming, heavy swell of wood and linoleum, every stranger who leant against the tacky bar, every pretty girl who flicked their hair and batted their eyelashes.

He’s laughing - held flung back, chest heaving - harder than he has in a long time. Dancing in a way so unlike how he dances with Sarah in the kitchen, welcoming the heavy, slow grind of hips against his own, breathless against a sweet smelling neck. It’s hot and it’s loud on this Friday night in Austin, and he loves it.

Not quite basking in the attention of being the birthday boy, but shouldering the stream of conversation that Tommy directs his way nonetheless. Cheeks flushed pink as he’s hauled up on to the bar top, clumsy, unsure where to look as the bartender encourages him to stand in full view of the crowd. The whole bar, oscillating with colour and light and sound, roaring into a raucous chorus of happy birthday, beckoned by the chime of the bell by the till.

The spectacle of it all makes him look to the ceiling before dropping his chin to his chest, makes him laugh again, watching these people, many strangers, cheer and sing for him.

He holds his beer to his chest through the first part of the song, cheeks tight with a smile. His eyes swivel to the corner of the dancefloor on the downturn of Joel… catching the flicker and flare of a pair he recognises, scanning your face on the refrain - happy birthday - heart dropping confusingly low in his chest, the world taking a sticky beat as his blood halts and begins to rush again - to you.

He’s not seen you here before. Much more used to seeing you coming and going from your father’s house - bright smile, wicked eyes. Moved back home after spending some time out west when you’d finished your Masters program, always happy to chat for a little longer if you were where he was. Interesting and interested - he’s been regaled by tales of you from your father - the man who’s been overseeing safety on Joel’s latest job site - and listened to more directly from you, lip caught between his teeth as he bit back amusement at the things you didn’t want your dad to know.

Your father is a good man. Kind, supportive. So proud of you in the way he talks that Joel’s taking blueprints for raising Sarah. And you - you. Joel tries to think of you in ways he thinks of other colleagues or acquaintances. Smart, creative, perceptive. Patient, generous with your time and energy when entertaining neighbours at cookouts. Any other thoughts creep in in the dead of night, and he’s quick to try and forget them by morning.

But this - you here, now - is entirely different. It could be the buzz of the tequila in his system, could be the hot blood in his veins, could be the giddy little flash of that smile you shoot him as you clap and whoop with the rest of the crowd, but his feet are itching to find you once he half hops, half clambers down off the bar, accepting claps on the back and other sentiments as he searches for you again.

But you’re gone.

Disappeared, into thin air. Like he imagined you in the first place.

He cranes his neck a little, twisting his head from side to side as if trying to loosen another tight muscle, trying to tamp down the damp disappointment he feels.

Trying to remember how he tries to forget.

‘Happy birthday, cowboy,’ the words are breathless, squeezed through a smile.

The grin that creeps across his face is slow and wide, crinkling the corners of his eyes as he turns to face you.

‘Evenin’, darlin’,’ is his reply. Deep, coy, any idea of hiding his thoughts gone, buried. It’s his birthday, and you’re here. You and your sparkling eyes.

‘You gonna let me buy you a drink, or have you got a queue of ladies lining up to do that already?’

He laughs, and you feel the sound glimmer down your body, lighting every synapse, every receptor. You track his gaze as it drifts down your body and back up, spine straightening at his appraisal.

Delicious thighs beneath the hem of your skirt, soft swell of your breasts above your neckline.

‘Your daddy know you’re here?’ He asks, delighting in the way you scoff.

‘My daddy knows I’m out tonight,’ you say, licking your teeth, eyes dropping to his mouth, ‘And he don’t care much about it. I’m a big girl, Joel. I can handle myself.’

They’re big words for someone around ten years his junior, but he doesn’t doubt it. He’s heard your bartending stories, about your debates with fratboys. Something about your confidence, your self-assuredness licks a tongue of flame up his back. He bites his cheek.

‘Best buy me that drink, then.’

He went looking for trouble that night.

And Jesus, he found it.

Found it on the dancefloor, your soft body grinding against his. The heat and the sweat, how you moved your hips with his, how you’d giggled when he’d turned you around, pulling you flush against him. Your hands grasping for him, clutching at his thigh as you pressed firmly against the bulge growing at your backside, head tipped back, bliss etched across your face as you felt each other.

Found it in his truck when he dragged you outside under the pretence of giving you a lift home, found it when he rucked your skirt up on the backseat, when he pulled the top of your dress down. Inches of skin he had banished fantasies about to the back of his mind, revealed to him in the dim light of the parking lot. The sweat gleaming on your sternum, shining on your clavicles, your neck. He wishes, now, that he had taken more time to tell you how beautiful you looked, how smart you are, how funny, that first time, but the two of you had been too caught up in seeing, feeling, as much as possible.

His knees had protested as he crammed himself onto the floor, wanting to be between those thighs, wanting to taste you. Pressing, gliding his fingers against your pussy over your underwear, watching you keen and beg, hands twisting tight in the material of your dress, then his shirt collar, then his hair.

And that first swipe of his tongue when he’d pulled your underwear to the side, that first, most base knowledge of you. The sweet and sour, your smell, the way you became pliant, willing to have your thighs pushed up towards your chest. Quickly obsessed with the way you looked down at him, jaw slack, pupils blown, eyebrows slightly furrowed. Quickly obsessed with the way your pussy looked, puffy, needy, the way it leaked and clenched before him as he leant back to spit on it, how your head hit the headrest with a soft thump.

Too obsessed, everything about that night feeling too good as he lowered you down onto him, as he sunk his teeth into your shoulder to stop himself from coming too early, watching you bounce on his cock, listening to the way you moaned and panted and whimpered his name. The wet sounds of you fucking, the way he held you still, big hands on your waist as he bucked up into you. The way your noises, your breathing stuttered as he thrusted harder, as he dropped you lower. The fogged windows, low bass from the bar, how you clenched and fluttered around him as he wrung two orgasms from your pretty body before spilling himself inside you.

He’s been finding trouble ever since.

Finding reasons to help you grab drinks, bring out nibbles at your dad’s Halloween party. Finding excuses to have you backed up against the tool bench in the garage instead, his hips between yours, soft lips against chapped or your hand tight against your mouth to make sure nobody would find you. Heading back out into the garden with his cock still swollen, tucked into his black slacks, feeling your slick around its base still, your fake blood smeared on his dog collar, watching as you pressed your thighs together in your seat, knowing you could still feel him trickling out of you. He could hear your teasing through the glint in your eye - some priest you are, father.

Driving you home from the bar after a night of dancing around each other, after glances were snuck whenever they could be - over his brother’s shoulder, between your friends’ laughter. The crackle of electricity in the truck cab as the warm air threaded itself between you, your sparkling eyes, devious little laugh.

Walking you to your door, keeping you safe, don't wanna disappoint your old man.

Jamming his foot between the wood and the frame to come in when you told him he wasn’t home.

The mornings when Sarah’s waking up, still sugar-high after a sleepover, in a house the other side of town. The mornings he’s awake first, drinking coffee at his kitchen table when you hop down the stairs in his t-shirt from the night before, sleep-stained and perfect. The mornings that start with you in his lap, with kisses pressed to temples, lips, necks, his wide palms snaking under the material, fiending warm skin, finding it, cradling it. The firm weight of your breasts in his palms, the pebbling of your nipples beneath his thumbs. The soft rock of your hips against his hardening length, his fingers reaching to pull your panties to the side, finding you soaked like that first night. How you whine and huff against his shoulder as he sinks one, two, three digits into you, as he twists them, pumps them, as he uses his thumb to toy with your clit. The wet patch you leave, darkening the grey tenting below you, the outline of him something you want to press your face against, nuzzle, mouth at until he’s begging this time.

Mornings when he takes you apart deftly, until you hover above him, pulling his hard, leaking cock over the top of his sweatpants, savouring that delicious stretch around him, the way he thickens out at the base, the way the wiry hair there catches on your clit. When you can enjoy the way he holds you there afterwards, talking about your days ahead, nibbling at your ear as his cum slips from you along with his softening cock.

All these moments, and they’re never enough.

Because despite how often they happen, how often he might be able to hold you, kiss you - you make Joel Miller feel like a fucking teenager.

It’s been years since he’s woken up to the cooling evidence of a wet dream in his boxers. He’s having them nightly now in his thirties; sick and tired of waking up wet and aching and sticky, sick and tired of wishing it was you, not his hand, helping to solve the problem.

He wants you here so much more often than he does. The tip of his tongue on the evenings you call, sunlight fading through the window, orange on his sheets. He wonders, as you talk, what it would look like painted onto your skin.

He wants Sarah to actually know how he feels about the woman who babysits her every so often, wants Tommy to understand the reason why he turns up smiling to the site every day. And he wants your father to know his daughter has found someone who’ll treat her right, who’ll hold her hand through the bad days and give her all he can to make her smile.

The more he thinks about it, the more he wonders whether you have, too.

Whether you’d confess to your father the crush you have on the contractor, ask if he could put in a good word for you. There isn’t much between you - it would only take some careful wording, an evening where he can present the flowers he’s been dying to give you at your door.

He’s sure your father wouldn’t mind.

But this secret, the sneaking around - he can’t deny the thrill of it. Stolen touches, kisses, whispers in the moonlight. Quiet jokes between the two of you, the looks exchanged around others, the show of you putting your hand on his shoulder - can I get you anything else, Mr Miller?

You’ve only come close to being found out once. Just the once. By Tommy - who else could it have been?

Tommy, who couldn't hide his delight when he found the underwear you’d left behind in Joel's truck one morning, wheezing with laughter as Joel stuffed your soft, cotton panties into his back pocket. His cheeks aflame, he swore under his breath that he’d kill his little brother if he ever flicked a woman’s underwear at him like that again instead of doing the right thing - kicking them under the seat and pretending he hadn’t seen anything.

Between gasping breaths, Tommy had managed to make a good point. At least it wasn't Sarah who’d found them.

You gonna tell me who the lucky lady is, big brother?

He didn’t. Not yet.

It’s been so unbearably hot all day.

Too hot to work in the open air, and though Joel’s not grateful for the heat, he is grateful for the chance to stay at home. A chance to catch up on chores while Sarah basks in the AC at school, a chance to work his way through bills and invoices, fighting to keep his head clear of any thought of you and what you might be up to in weather like this.

He keeps his eyes carefully trained on numbers, figures, dates, unaware of the clock, unaware of the calls he’s missing. Only catches himself daydreaming when the lines start to blur.

He makes it to just past lunchtime when he hears a car pull up in the driveway. He knows the rattle of that engine, the heave of noise it makes as it turns off.

He stands from the table, blood racing in his chest.

‘God- motherfuckin’ shit,'

Joel lets the front door hang open behind him, folding his arms across his heart as you try and jam your wing mirror back in place.

‘You kiss your grandma with that mouth?’

You grin, flipping him off as you slam the door closed. The mirror sticks.

‘Yeah. Suck your dick with it, too,’

His lips quirk, watching as you stand with your hip against the front of your car, a box in one hand, the other shielding your eyes from the sun. Staring at each other, a little game you play. You watch his smirk grow, feeling the trickle of sweat down your spine.

‘There a reason why you’re here?’

You roll your eyes, like it should be obvious. And it is obvious, but -

‘Freezer’s fucked,’ you huff, and Joel raises an eyebrow. ‘Can I put them in yours?’

You hold the box up to him.

‘Popsicles?’ Joel frowns. You roll your eyes at him.

‘Please, Joel. They’re literally the only thing keeping me sane,’

He scratches at his jaw, pretending to contemplate.

‘I dunno, darlin’,’ he says, ‘The only thing? Surely that AC of yours is doin’ a fine job,'

You scoff at him, folding your own arms.

‘That old piece a’ shit ain’t doin’ nothin’ and you know it,’

He chuckles, letting his arms drift to his sides.

‘Guess I can take care of ‘em for ya. Anythin’ else?’

You bite your lip, eyes glinting in the sun.

‘Can I come in?’ you ask. A slow, smug smile grows across Joel’s lips.

‘'N do what, exactly?’

You pout at him, fluttering your eyelashes. His cock twitches.

‘Just wanna swim in the pool. Promise I won’t do nothin’ else, Mr Miller,’

‘Nothin’ else, baby?’ He says, lowly.

You shake your head, eyes wide. Picture of false innocence.

‘Nothin’ else,'

If there are two things Joel has come to know about you in the last year, it’s that you’re a great fuck, and a bad liar.

He steps back into the open door behind him, grinning as you skip past him into the hallway. He watches, snicking the catch and lock as you make your way into the kitchen, swinging open the refrigerator door, finding a spot for your iced treats. He follows, leaning against the doorframe, watching as you stand in the cold air flowing from the appliance for a moment, your eyes closed.

He’s looking at your legs when you turn to speak to him, snapping to meet your gaze as though he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. That ship sailed long ago. You grin at him.

‘Whatcha been doin’?’

He exhales, stepping closer.

‘Workin’,’

You hum, meeting him beside the kitchen table, surveying the stacks of paper.

‘Not too hard?’

‘Hard to, when I'm thinkin’ ‘bout you,’

You grin, twisting to look at him.

‘You sweet on me, Miller?’

He shrugs.

‘Bout time you noticed,’

His hands find your waist as yours make their way up his chest, his shoulders, winding around his neck.

‘I had my suspicions,’ you whisper, before pressing your lips to his. He smiles into it, parting his lips to invite you in, rocking you back and forth in his arms.

‘Missed you,’ you breathe, and he hums in response.

‘Missed you too, baby,’

You’re salty sweet; warm scent of your skin, your sun lotion, your perfume, your sweat. When he’s satisfied, done licking lazily into your mouth, exploring the taste of your lips, he moves to your neck. Laving kisses there, biting, sucking, nibbling as you sigh against him. He bites harder, earning a particularly needy whimper, hands moving to knead the flesh of your ass through your dress.

‘Joel,’ you murmur, ‘You’ll leave a mark,’

He hums, trailing kisses up your neck to the space behind your ear, along your jaw, before finally meeting your lips again.

‘Don’t care.’

He’s grasping your hips to turn you so you’re pressed against the table, your back to his firm chest. You can’t help the gasp, the giggle that floats from you as he tugs you closer, as you feel the heft of him pressed into the small of your back. You shift your hips, brushing against him, slow and purposeful.

Joel groans - a long, drawn out, hungry sound. He pulls your hips tighter to him, moving against you just the same before his hands slide up to your breasts, holding the weight of each in his palms, squeezing and rolling a nipple between his thumb and finger. You tip your head back against his shoulder, and he hums approvingly as you begin to grind against him in earnest. He pauses only for a moment to pull your straps from your shoulders and work your dress down to expose your tits, and then he’s on you again. Teasing and stroking and pinching, your hand gripping his forearms as you huff and whimper, caged between him and the table. You moan his name, bleeding every once of want you feel into it, hoping he can hear just by the sound of your voice how wet you are for him.

‘Dreamt about ya last night,’ he rasps in your ear, and you flash him a dazzling, breathless smile.

‘Oh yeah? ‘N what’d ya dream about, cowboy?’

You whine as he crowds you, leaning down to suck another bruise into the junction between your neck and shoulders, whiskers bristling against your skin, hands hot and heavy everywhere they can find purchase.

‘Much rather show you,’ he rumbles.

You nip your bottom lip between your teeth, shooting him a wicked look over your shoulder. His eyes crinkle, and as he spins you to face him again, he moves to pinch your jaw, just rough enough to curb your inevitable wise ass response. He watches as your eyes glaze a little, soft slump of your shoulders as he gives your head a little shake. His cock is achingly hard.

‘Upstairs. Now,’

As soon as he backs away from you, you’re sprinting towards the stairs with a shriek. Joel is close behind, and you can feel the heat of him, enough to set your heart galloping in your chest. Something primal urging space between you, something base wishing there was none.

You clatter through his bedroom door, whirling to face him - bare chest heaving, lips curled. He pauses in the doorway - so tall and broad, so imposing - shoulders straining against his t-shirt, curls frayed from your hands. He steps in, swings the door shut behind him, and then he’s closing the space easily - one, two, three - gathering you in his arms until you’re on tiptoes, pawing at the flesh of your ass through your sundress. Obsessed with it. You on him, him on you.

He needs this like air.

His breath is hot against your lips, mouth needy and wet as you open yourself to him. He licks into your mouth, kissing you like it’s something you need to take from him, like there’s something you need to understand through the action alone. He fiddles with the flimsy material of your half-removed sundress, pulling at it a little.

‘Take this off,’ he growls, nipping at your lips.

You step back from him as you push it past your hips, the fabric pooling to the floor in seconds, leaving you in your panties. He bites his lip, murmuring a fuck before stripping himself of his t-shirt. Glorious tan chest, slightly lighter than his strong arms, shoulders seeming even broader, smattering of hair that leads down past his navel, his smooth belly, the constellations of freckles that join beneath your fingertips.

You busy your fingers with his belt as he cups your face once more, pressing kisses to your hairline, your forehead, your cheekbones. You’re giggling, trying to see what you’re doing through the blur of his face and hands, but then his palms are moving lower, groping at your breasts again, swiping his thumbs against your taught nipples, groaning against your mouth as you dip your hand past his unfastened belt and fly, into his boxers to cup his silken skin.

‘How’d that dream go again?’

Joel smiles against your mouth, giving a harsh twist to each peaked bud before beginning to push his jeans further down.

‘Kneel,’ he commands.

You drop to your knees in one swift motion, biting your lip at him as he whips his belt from its loops and throws it to the corner of the room. Your eager fingers curl under the waistband of his jeans, inching them and his underwear down.

‘Don’t know how you’re wearing jeans in this weather -’

‘Cos I knew you’d be here some point to take ‘em off me,’

You smirk, blinking up at him through your eyelashes.

‘Who, me? I don’t know what kind of girl you take me for, daddy, but…’ You’re chewing your cheek to try and temper your look of amusement, but Joel gives in immediately. Goofy smile, all teeth, eyes crinkling at the edges. He cups your jaw as you wrap your hand around his base, pulling him out of his underwear, soft black material barely holding him in.

His body moves with the first pump of your tight fist, the swirl of your thumb when you reach the head, spreading the pearl of precum beading there as he hisses. Thick and pulsing in your hand, velvety smooth, you trace its lines, veins with a delicate finger, press a kiss to his tip. Joel’s nostrils flare.

‘So pretty,’ you murmur, and that smirk tugs at his lips again.

‘I say you could touch it?’

You roll your eyes, quirking your head at him.

‘Didn’t think you had to,’ you shrug, ‘Kinda comes with the territory of tellin’ me to get on my knees -’

He scoffs.

‘Alright, smart ass,’ tangling his fingers in your hair, ‘Make me proud.’

You smile broadly, before inching closer, moving your mouth with your hand to chase down his length. You always know how to shut him up, and right now, the sight, the sound, the feel of you taking him all on the first try makes him fucking dizzy.

Hot and wet, the ridges of the roof of your mouth like satin around his cock, jumping as it hits the back of your throat and further, twitching again as you hum around him, opening your eyes - doe-like, watering already, the pinch in your brows telling him what you need to hear.

‘Good girl,’ he groans, ‘Good fucking girl,’

It’s the encouragement you need, moaning again as you pull back to the tip, taking him back in again as you bring one hand up to scratch at his thigh, the other moving from his length to his balls, cupping them softly, squeezing, rolling, and he’s on fucking fire. If there was ever a chance he was going to hell before, he’s sure the way you make him feel will send him there regardless.

You’re taking it slow, steady, making him feel every inch of your mouth as you moan and breathe, so intense that he can feel his tip heating - a kind of overstimulation - as he lets little moans slip more freely from his lips. Sighs and mutterings, breathless praise, wrecked groans as you start to move faster, jaw falling open. A steady stream of salt on your tongue, the taste making you keen for him, press your nose to the skin above his cock, making you forget anything outside the taste of him in your mouth. The hand on his thigh moving to work his length as you pay special attention to his head, your hips bucking unconsciously. His stomach jumps, lungs heaving as he massages your crown, as you kitten lick and swirl your tongue down the vein on the underside, rewarded with a sharp, wanton gasp as you pull back to slap him against your tongue.

You watch as his pink tip flushes a darker shade, as it dribbles even more, feeling him jerk in your hand. Spellbound, slack-jawed at the way you take him, at the way you want him, like the taste and the pressure is never enough. How you always need more, more, more, and he’s getting closer, closer, closer -

He pulls you off with a deep, guttural groan - missing your mouth the minute it’s gone, resisting the temptation to shove himself back past your lips and come down your throat.

You gaze up at him, pouting, straining against the hand in your hair.

‘What? Didn’t I make you proud, cowboy?’

He tightens his grip, tips your head further to meet his gaze.

‘Bed,’ he commands, relinquishing his hold, ridding himself of his remaining clothes as you do yours, clambering up onto his bed, settling yourself on your knees again, wiggling side to side, your wide eyes rapt, wired. Chin wet, chest heaving, fingers twitching in your lap, he makes his decision almost instantly. Steps forwards, fingers brushing against the inside of your knee. Your legs part automatically, and he follows the contour of soft skin in the inside of your thighs right to the very top, no grace in the way he swipes his fingers through your folds, collecting the wetness there. And there’s so much of it, so much you feel proud of the way his eyes darken when he feels it.

‘What’s this, baby?’ He coos, repeating the motion as you whimper, as your shoulders hunch and your chin tips down. He lifts it with a finger and thumb, before cupping your face. You nuzzle into the touch, eyes hungry. ‘Oh, pretty girl,’ he murmurs, smiling again, ‘This happen while you were down on your knees sucking daddy’s cock?’

You snort softly, forehead knocking against his as he crowds closer.

‘Fucker-’ you start, but it’s cut off by your gasp as he easily slips in two thick fingers. He tuts.

‘Try again,’

‘Yes,’ you whisper, ‘Fuck yes, it did,’

He kisses your nose, pumping the digits slowly.

‘Gonna have to do something about that then, aren’t we?’

‘Please,’ you breathe, and he removes his fingers, slipping them into his mouth with another groan, tasting you - fuck.

‘Hands and knees, baby,’ he says roughly, and you obey.

He pushes you forward so your chest is pressed into the sheets, nipples catching on the fabric, sweat soaking, cooling against the bed. Your breath catches in your throat - good girl, like this - and he’s pulling your hips up towards him, gripping the flesh at the backs of your thighs to spread you. Your knees slide, pliant with the need that scorches through you, and you press your cheek into the duvet, trying to angle your head so you can watch him watching you.

And fuck, is he watching you. Eyes blown, lips bitten, a depraved intensity settling in the way his jaw flexes. You bunch your hands into fists on the cotton, shuddering as his palms run over your curves - hips, waist, hips, ass, thighs - before they stop, parting you for him again. You can’t help the way you present yourself to him, the way your hips tilt when air meets your bare cunt.

‘Atta girl,’ he mumbles, ‘Look at all that. You makin’ a mess f’me, baby? This pretty little pussy achin’ for what I wanna give her?’

You muffle your response, so fucking desperate, against his sheets, clutching the material tighter. He swipes both his thumbs through your folds, tracing the seam of your cunt, spreading the slick there to shine against your skin, teasing one digit at the entrance of your hole, the other inching its way - agonisingly - towards your clit. You throb, and he watches a bead of slick dribble down your folds, grinding himself against the bed as his cock jumps.

‘Is she, baby?’

You gasp, turning your head to him again. His eyes meet yours, dark, burning.

‘Yes,’ you half-moan, half-sob.

He hums in response, before turning back to your spread cunt. The thumb making its way towards your clit disappears, and you scrunch your brows together in disapproval, mouth working around a strangled please- before the sensation is replaced by his warm breath, then his firm tongue as he licks you from your clit to your hole.

The cry that forces its way past your lips is strangled, choked, stuck in your throat as you clench around nothing at the contact.

‘Oh, fuck -’

And he chuckles against you, at the way your legs almost give out, wrapping his strong arms around your thighs in an effort to hold you upright. You squeeze your eyes closed as he licks further - Joel, fuck - seeking your clit again, pulling it between his lips, dragging his face against you, like he needs it, like he can’t be apart from you.

He sucks a little harsher, and at the very same time, you feel the tip of his nose edge against your cunt. You moan, a fractured sound, and he pulls you towards him again, pressing the curve of it further inside, moving his tongue in circles. You’re seeing fucking stars.

Breath shuddering out of you in high pitched gasps, toes curling against the pressure that builds so quickly already in your gut, unable to move, to find any relief as he mouths at you - ravenous, cramming his face, his fucking nose, as far into you as he can, slurping and sucking, letting his teeth graze you gently when you try to protest - too much, close Joel, ‘m close, fuck -

He pulls back just as suddenly as he came near, swatting your ass quickly, once, twice, before leaning back in. You barely have time to register the sting, how it flares goosebumps up your back, what it means, drunk on the feel of his mouth on you. He begins the same onslaught, sucking, licking, groaning at your taste before the knot tightens again.

‘Yes, please, Joel, please -’

But he’s gone again, that same firm hand landing on your backside as he pushes himself up, loosening his arms from their vice grip on your thighs.

‘Not yet,’ he rasps, ‘Not yet, gonna come on my cock, yeah? Get it nice and wet, show me how much you like it?’

You rock your forehead against his mattress, waves of pleasure rolling through you, cunt fluttering, still so exposed to him. You take too long to answer, moaning loudly as he taps his palm against your soaked folds. You jolt, hips moving instinctively, finding nothing. You shudder a breath.

‘Yes, wanna come on your cock, I need it daddy. Need you inside me, need you to fuck me, need to come, Joel, please -’

He pulls you by the hips to the edge of the bed again, one palm kneading the flesh there, the other sliding three fingers through your arousal, bringing the wetness to his cock, slicking himself up. You raise yourself up on your elbows, looking back at him, and Joel's heart almost gives out. That perfect little pout, the sweat dripping down your forehead, the bead of it that travels down the valley of your spine, shining against your skin. Every inch of you so perfect, glossy in the heat, his. The patch he loves so much at the bottom of your back, just before the swell of your ass, even better, impossibly, from this angle.

He holds you still with the grip on your hip as he nudges the tip of his cock against your entrance, and your breath stills in your lungs. That first press, the pressure, the beginning of the stretch, the way you contract around the promise of it, waiting, waiting -

Waiting.

Joel smiles, though you can’t see it. His body pulled taught, barely resisting the urge to push himself further into you.

‘Go on, pretty girl,’ he says, ‘Wanna see you fuck yourself on it. Show me how bad you need it,’

You hear his breath catch the moment you begin to slide down, and then the room is silent, save for the buzzing of his fans and the sticky sound of you pulling him inside. When you reach his base, nestling against the hair there, you both let out an honest, drawn out groan of relief. You’re so full of him, the stretch welcome, pressing against a sweet spot deep inside you, just enough to leave you breathless. You can feel him pulse in time with your heartbeat, feel yourself grow wetter, begin to drip down your thighs as you breathe heavily, as his grip grows firmer, as his fingers slide to the crease between your thighs and your stomach.

‘Move, baby,’ he pleads, sounding just as wrecked as you feel.

So you do. Slow, methodical, so you can feel all of him. Every inch, every vein that makes you clench around him, that makes him groan low in his throat. You know he wants it faster, that this time he wants more, but you’re too busy indulging yourself, focused on the drag of him against your walls, showing him how he takes care of you, making sure he watches how he fills you, how well you take him.

When the pressure begins to grow, when he coos at you a little more, you move with more force, fucking yourself back, your noises coming louder, higher pitched, while his grow lower, as he babbles to you more and more.

‘Fuck, look at you, baby. Look at you. Take me so good, take me so deep. Perfect pussy, made f’me, ain’t she? So pretty baby, so pretty the way you stretch, feel so good, so good, darlin’, fuck -’

He’s almost too caught up in the way your ass recoils against his thighs, the way your pussy moulds itself to him, that he misses the tell tale signs of you about to come. The way you gasp, the way you tighten and throb, the way you fist the sheets around you, the way your body begins to lock up -

‘No. Not yet,’ he grits out, pulling his hips back, pulse pounding in his ears as he watches your body try to chase his before he grips you again, turning you onto your back.

You’re sobbing around your plea - please Joel, been so good, just wanna come around you, please baby - but he’s steadfast.

He wants to see your face when you let go. Wants to watch your eyes roll, wants to watch you arch, wants to see the way your stomach lurches -

You scrabble for him, slurring your words, so fucked out - please Joel please, please baby, god, I just need - as he arranges your legs so your knees are bent, so your pretty little pussy is exposed completely to him - need you, please fuck me - before he swipes his thumb against your clit again, just to hear your broken whine, the hiccuped sigh, the way your body twitches, so close.

He pauses, holds your thighs wide open before him, towering above you. You reach to skate a hand up his tan belly, fingers scraping through the hair there, the muscled lines leading down to his cock, enjoying the thrum of his heart beating through his skin before he knocks it aside, pursing his lips and spitting straight onto where you are connected.

It turns you half-feral, rearing up towards him as he speaks.

‘There we go, baby. This what we need,’

The first thrust in takes your breath away.

And he doesn’t give you any chance to get it back.

He sets a punishing pace, feeding you his cock with dogged precision, consumed by how you look spread beneath him, with how puffy and slick and shiny your pussy is, how it splits around him.

Thick heft of him sawing in and out, the way you clutch at him, sucking him back in, tighter and tighter each time, like your body is already missing him. So wet slick is smeared around your thighs, soaking Joel’s lap, leaking down into the cleft of your ass. He kisses you, slow and deep, gasping and panting against your lips. Guttural moans from him, needy little whimpers from you, the sloppy sound of pleasure.

He breaks away from you when the kisses are splintered by gasps of air, fixing his mouth to your neck, inhaling deeply there, pressing his lips to your shoulder, lower, the top of your breast, your sternum, before closing them around your nipple. You keen as he scrapes his teeth over the sensitive bud, hands flying from his flexing forearms to his hair, scratching his scalp, moaning his name, chanting it - Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel.

He sucks harder, tongue working around the flesh before he does the same to your other breast, fingers slipping down over the damp skin of your belly towards your sex, seeking that last nudge you need to send you flying over the edge.

Tighter, wetter, arching to meet his mouth as you gasp and plead - gonna come Joel, gonna come, please can I come, please, please -

You barely register his nod against your chest, barely hear him gasp ‘Give it to me baby, good girl, that’s it,’ before the flood overwhelms you, clawing through your body, ripping through you like flame. Your body tenses, jerks, hips stuttering against him, pussy throbbing as you cry out, pleasure flushing through you all the way to the top of your head. Aftershocks flare like fireworks behind your eyelids, hips moving frantically with his to chase the very end of your orgasm.

Joel watches, chest hot, stomach tightening with that tell tale taughtness - oh, shit baby, yeah, s'that good? - before his own eyes squeeze shut, his body faltering, pushing all the way up against your cervix as he pulses inside you, filling you with warmth, spilling himself until it begins to leak between your thighs.

He gives a couple of softer thrusts before he groans again, hearing you whimper, ears ringing, pulling out just to watch himself drip out of you. The sight makes him greedy, makes him press it back into you even as you hiss in protest, too sensitive. He looks up just as you crack an eye open, an arm swinging across your forehead.

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ you mumble, a smile growing before he breathes a shy laugh at the ceiling. He loves the sound of your giggle as you watch him.

He crawls back up your body, ignoring how the heat begins to creep back in, become formidable again. He presses kisses to your collarbones, your neck, your cheeks, and you thread your spare hand back through his hair, enjoying the way it looks, mussed by you.

His sweaty forehead presses against your sternum, laving affectionate, wet kisses there as you come down from your highs, panting in the warm air of the room.

You continue to card your fingers through his damp curls, staring up at the ceiling fan as it whirs and spins above you. Your eyes flutter closed, content.

‘You’ll have to get Sarah from school soon,’

He grunts in acknowledgement, nuzzling into your ribcage, licking at the salty skin before nipping it between his teeth. You giggle, body lurching away slightly before it’s fixed in place by his wide palms at your hips. ‘And I have to be home before four,’

He groans, pressing a kiss to the underside of your breast.

‘Come over for dinner,’ he murmurs, ‘Tell your dad we're hangin’ out, gettin’ to know each other. I’ll grill some stuff. You bring some more of those popsicles,’

You snort at him, huffing something about how nothing will get grilled if you’re watchin’ me suck on a popsicle, even as your chest and cheeks heat, before he slumps on top of you, plush lips crushing against yours in a searing kiss, tongue licking into your mouth, setting you ablaze again beneath him. You moan as he moves to your neck, sucking and biting and bruising.

‘Come,’ he groans into your skin, ‘Promise you’ll come. I'll make it worth your while,’

You offer him a breathy laugh, a sure at the double entendre with sparkling eyes. Your back arches, hands gripping his biceps as he languidly moves lower, taking your nipple in his mouth. He swirls his tongue around the raw bud, grazing it with his teeth before sucking gently.

‘Joel -’ you gasp, clenching your thighs together as you wriggle beneath him, meeting his warm brown eyes as he looks up at you through his eyelashes. ‘We need to -’

He cuts you off with a sharp nip at the puckered flesh. He turns his head to the side, checks the watch he’s still wearing, and fixes you with a dark, hungry look.

‘Reckon there’s time to go again.’

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel tlou #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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hannahbarberra162 · 2 months ago

Text

The Crocodile's Gambit (Croc x Reader)

on Ao3

The Crocodile’s Gambit (1/2)

Croc x F!Reader

Fluff in this chapter, angst and fluff in the next.

WC: 3.3k

Summary: Crocodile needs a chess partner before he impales Buggy out of frustration. Again. He finds one in a most unlikely place. Set after the abolition of the Warlord system, right before Cross Guild is formed.

~~~

There were a few things that Crocodile missed about Nico Robin. The first being, she was incredibly competent. When Crocodile hired someone, he assumed they could do their job without being told how to do it. He didn’t want to have to micromanage anyone, especially grown adults. He loathed having to check in and make sure every step of a process was done correctly. He’d never had to do that with Robin, she was smart and capable. Anything he assigned her, she executed flawlessly.

But what he missed more than her competence was her chess playing ability. She was the only opponent within Baroque Works who had ever won against him. Her success rate was about 15%, which was significantly higher than anyone else Crocodile had played in years. Crocodile enjoyed winning chess matches but even more than that, he enjoyed losing them. He loved the challenge, the strategy, the simplicity, the complexity, everything about chess. And he especially loved it when he found someone who could best him.

Which made his stay with the complete idiot Buggy all the more intolerable. He and Mihawk were meeting with the Clown to determine whether a joint venture would be viable. After the absolution of the Warlord system, Crocodile had approached Mihawk for a business proposal. Crocodile had connections, money, and business acumen but didn’t like the spotlight. Mihawk had power and the reputation of the World’s Greatest Swordsman. Together, they could become unstoppable. Then, the question of the Clown arose. Buggy owed Crocodile a lot of money, Crocodile was ready to kill the Clown and be done with his foolishness completely. However, something the Clown had that neither of them did was a large loyal following. For whatever reason, the Clown’s crew were loyal to the death for their Captain. Any time the Clown docked his garish ship, he was greeted with fanfare and celebrations. There were waiting lists with hundreds of applicants, all waiting for a chance to be on Buggy’s crew. Crocodile didn’t understand why, but people were charmed by the Clown’s charisma.

Crocodile and Mihawk had been in negotiations with the Clown for a few days. It was slow going - each iteration of an alliance between the three of them had many stipulations and conditions that had to be discussed. Crocodile was fairly certain the venture would fail and he’d kill the Clown, but he kept his options open. After all, a dead Clown made no money at all.

Crocodile was in desperate need of a good chess opponent, he felt his stress rising by the minute. Unfortunately, he knew he wasn’t going to find someone within the Clown’s ridiculous crew of idiots and low-lifes. Mihawk was a decent chess opponent, but the swordsman was rarely in the mood to play. Business dealings with the Clown left both of them irritated, and Mihawk’s outlet wasn’t chess. Each of them had their own room and office on Buggy’s ship, and Crocodile had his chess set sitting out at all times in his office, just like at home. He tried reviewing games he’d played against other opponents and playing against himself, but none of it was as entertaining as playing against another person. One morning before his meetings began, he moved a white pawn to an opening position on the board. He left for the meeting and forgot about chess for a few hours as he dealt with the Clown’s buffoonery and Mihawk’s recalcitrance.

Returning to his office for an after lunch break, he was about to read the newspaper when he noticed someone had moved black, opposing his white pawn at e5. It had to be someone on the ship, but who? Mihawk had been with him in the meeting. Daz wasn’t a good player, he hadn’t played with Croc in years. No one from Buggy’s crew was smart enough, and Crocodile hadn’t brought anyone but Daz. Crocodile wasn’t concerned about someone infiltrating his office, but he was concerned about his growing boredom and irritation. If he didn’t find a good opponent soon, he’d probably kill the Clown before it was advisable. He decided to play the opening to the King’s Gambit, moving his pawn to f4, next to the first. Once it was time to leave for the next meeting, he knew whoever had moved the black pawn wouldn’t last more than 5 moves against him.

He was wrong. It was Crocodile who was now outclassed, outplayed, and outmaneuvered. Crocodile played delayed games against the mystery person as his meetings continued and hadn’t won a single match. Crocodile hadn’t lost this many games in decades, and he couldn’t have been happier. Crocodile returned back to his office after every meeting, eager to see his opponent’s next move. His opponent was ruthless, seeing through his plays, gambits, and traps with ease. He skewered Crocodile time and time again, to Crocodile’s delight. Every time he lost, Crocodile placed a gold coin under the black King, which was taken and the board reset the next time Crocodile returned. Crocodile wanted to know who he was playing with, but he was never able to catch the man in action, his office always empty when he returned.

Even though the negotiations were not going well, Crocodile was now having a wonderful time. He didn’t want the venture to end, he wanted to continue playing chess against his opponent. The Clown had noticed the uptick in Crocodile’s mood, asking for more ridiculous clauses in their contracts. It hadn’t helped the negotiations, but Crocodile hadn’t killed the Clown outright yet, which was saying something. Unfortunately, the time for reconciliation was coming to a close. Crocodile wanted to find out who the mystery opponent was and soon. He wanted to shake the hand of the man who had bested Crocodile so thoroughly and offer him a spot on his crew.

So Crocodile waited outside his office before his morning meeting. He wasn’t hiding, that would be childish. He was simply waiting in a concealed location to resolve an issue he was having. True, he could have waited in his office to see who the man was, but that would ruin the fun. And Crocodile hadn’t had fun in years. He would be late for the meeting, but it wasn’t going to be productive anyway, negotiations had stalled. The morning crew was coming in to clean his office - Buggy had a lot of useless staff (and a lot of overhead expenses) but Crocodile appreciated coming back to a clean office daily. He hadn’t really noticed them before, they were all part of the background for Crocodile. They were dressed like all of the other pirates who worked for the Clown - in ugly, lurid circus clothing. The various cleaners split off to their areas, with you entering his office to clean. You wiped down various surfaces, until you got to the board with Crocodile’s most recent move. You studied it for a brief moment, then picked up a black knight.

“What the fuck are you doing woman?” Crocodile recognized Daz’s voice. He must have been passing by, looking for Crocodile.

“Cleaning,” you replied, irritated by the interruption. You put the piece back down where it was previously, to Crocodile’s disappointment.

“Didn’t look like cleaning to me. Leave the Boss’s chess set alone unless you want trouble.” The maid was unconcerned by the threat, rolling her eyes at Daz’s words.

“Game’s over anyway, doesn’t matter,” you muttered. Crocodile’s interest was piqued, was this slip of a woman his opponent? He watched you flip off Daz behind his back as he walked away. You bustled around the office, cleaning once more. As he watched, thinking you may be his opponent, he appreciated your form. You were graceful in your movements and meticulous in your work, and he found you beautiful in an unconventional way. The more Crocodile watched you, the more he realized how attractive you were. The hideous circus clothes you wore didn’t help, you had a huge orange scarf wrapped around your neck. But he saw your immense potential if you wore something less…flashy. It didn’t take you long to finish cleaning, and before you left the room, you moved the black knight, putting Crocodile in checkmate. Crocodile ran his hand through his hair, smiling wickedly.

~~~

After his next meeting, Crocodile cleared his schedule for the rest of the day. He didn’t really care about anything the Clown had to say right now. He was far too interested in his little chess opponent to bother with anything else. He sat in a plush armchair, smoking a cigar, waiting for the time the cleaning crew came in. Around lunch time, you carried your cleaning supplies into the room. You immediately noticed Crocodile sitting in his chair and you started to back out of the room.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll come back -”

“You’ll sit down,” Crocodile intoned, blowing billowing smoke clouds into the room. He gestured to the board in front of him. “Do you know how to play chess?” he asked. He knew you did, he was just curious what you’d say. You were a confident, aggressive chess player, and he wanted to see if that crossed over into your regular personality.

“I do, but I have to -”

“You’re dismissed from your duties for now. Sit. I won’t ask again.” You were a little nervous, but set down your cleaning supplies and sat across from him on another comfortable armchair. You perched on the end of the chair, like you were getting ready to run at a moment’s notice, fiddling with your scarf. Crocodile switched the board, you were now white.

“Go ahead. Start,” he drawled at you, blowing smoke. Your eyes flicked from the board to Crocodile, wary of the situation. Things weren’t completely genial between Crocodile and your Captain, surely you felt the tension on the ship. But you played, moving your pawn to f4. Crocodile parried, moving his pawn to e5, countering your opening. You played your turn, and by the time 15 minutes were up, Crocodile was in checkmate again.

“Checkmate,” you said, leaning forward to stand up. Maybe you wanted to get back to work or maybe you wanted to get away from Crocodile, but neither was going to happen.

“You’re not dismissed,” Crocodile growled, steepling his hand against his hook, pleased with the match. “So, it’s you. You’re my opponent. You’re quite skilled at chess,” Crocodile observed.

“Yeah, it’s me. Do you want your coins back or something?” you replied. You were a little rough around the edges, Crocodile thought, but he could fix that. When you joined his crew, he’d work on your social skills outside of the chess board.

“No, you may keep them, you won them. I would like to make a proposition. I want to play chess with you tonight in the evening. Three games. If you win two out of three, you get 100,000 Beri.” Ideally, you’d play chess with him all day every day, but he would take things one step at a time.

You narrowed your eyes, fiddling with your scarf. “What if I lose?”

Crocodile leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. He spread his hands magnanimously, like he was granting you a favor. “If you lose, you have to join my crew and leave the Clown.”

You pursed your lips, thinking over his deal. “200,000 Beri,” you bartered. Crocodile smiled, enjoying your evident self confidence.

“150,000 Beri per night, 50,000 Beri bonus if you win all three rounds,” he countered. You agreed, shaking his hook with your hand. You were either self assured in your ability to win, or didn’t mind leaving the Clown. Either way, you’d be coming with him when he left.

~~~

Crocodile was down 1,000,000 Beri and no closer to getting you on his crew. He knew you were good, but he hadn’t anticipated you were that good. Crocodile loathed losing money, but in this instance, he didn’t mind handing it over night after night. He thought that playing face to face would increase his chances of winning, but that wasn’t the case. You were even sharper when playing with him in person rather than delayed over the course of hours and days. You were a good sport about winning, and you didn’t gloat. You also took the time to explain your thinking when Crocodile asked you about your thought processes. You did, however, have a crass mouth that Crocodile didn’t care for.

“Sucks to suck,” you replied after Crocodile complained you ended a game too swiftly for his liking.

“Do not speak to your superiors that way,” Crocodile snapped. He was peevish after having lost three games in under an hour.

“If you’re my superior, why do I keep collecting your Beri?” you said impishly. Crocodile nearly smiled at your antics.

“Speaking in such a coarse manner makes you seem less intelligent than you truly are,” Crocodile stated. He hated to see you present yourself like the common boors that made up the rest of the Clown’s crew. You gave him a bored look.

“Give me my pieces and I’ll play you again,” you said. Crocodile was interested in playing a fourth round against you but knew you were trying to change the subject. He picked up your knight he had taken and held it out to you in his hand. You reached for the piece but he closed his hand before you could retrieve it.

“Hand me my pieces, please,” he said.

“Hand me my pieces, please, Sir Crocodile.” You rolled your eyes, but dutifully repeated the phrase. Crocodile smiled at you, and opened his hand once more. You took the knight, your fingers brushing against his palm. It was the first time you’d made physical contact with each other. Crocodile wanted more.

You didn’t let Crocodile win or handicap yourself when you faced off, you always played to win. So when Crocodile won his first game, he was over the moon. He was certain you were tired when he’d won, you almost nodded off once during the game. Crocodile was concerned for your wellbeing, and it tarnished his feeling of victory. He was…worried.

“Is the Clown working you too hard? Why are you so tired?” Crocodile queried as you yawned into your hand.

“Someone is making me play chess at night after work,” you replied.

“Please, you’ve been making more than you’d earn in a month in under an hour,” Crocodile scoffed. The games between you didn’t take that long, the Clown must be putting undue stress on you. He’d…fix that for you. You hummed, resetting the board for the third game. Crocodile had enjoyed winning, but didn’t want to play if you weren’t at your best. “Let’s end early tonight. Go rest.”

You looked up at him, unsure of what to do. “But it’s only been two games, and I lost one. If I lose the next one -”

“It is my idea to conclude early, therefore you will not be bound to the usual rules. Go to bed.” Crocodile waved his hand, dismissing you.

“Thank you, Crocodile,” you said softly, lingering by the door for a moment. It was the first time you’d thanked him without his prompting.

As the days went on, you seemed to enjoy Crocodile’s company a little bit, not bolting immediately after he paid you your Beri. You had a keen wit and were able to counter Crocodile’s acerbic remarks with ease. It was obvious to Crocodile early on in your conversations that you were not well read, something else Crocodile wanted to amend. Crocodile loaned you a book about ancient Wano battle theory, asking you to read it as it would improve your chess playing. You returned it the next day, saying you read the entire work. Crocodile questioned you about the contents of the book, trying to see if you had just skimmed it or were lying. But you were able to answer his questions and provide your own insight into the strategies listed.

“What did you think about the treatise on aggressive methods of battle?” Crocodile asked. He had found a lot of useful thought exercises in the book. Having read it in his youth, it had become a cornerstone for his own strategy in becoming a Warlord and businessman.

“In chess? I don’t necessarily agree that aggression should be the foremost method of attack. Aggressive moves only work if it's balanced with knowledge of your opponent. If you don’t know who you’re dealing with, things may not work out the way you planned,” you said while moving your Queen to check Crocodile. Crocodile hummed in agreement. You were clearly intelligent, Crocodile just had to provide you with direction. He knew people were not given the same opportunities in life and was happy to supply you with some.

To that end, Crocodile was now taking an interest in your formal education. He loaned you book after book, and you read them all, sharing your opinions and thoughts on the titles. You had interesting ideas, and Crocodile found himself sharing his own with you. You tended to like mysteries and fiction novels, but read anything Crocodile lent you. You picked up and assimilated new information easily and had unique ideas, things Crocodile would never have thought about on his own. Crocodile found himself sharing his favorite books with you, just to see what you would say.

He appreciated your personality outside of the chess board the more you spent time together. Crocodile tended to make people nervous, it was practically a pastime for him. However, after your initial encounter, you weren’t tense around him at all. You didn’t mince words, you said what was on your mind, even if you knew it would annoy him. You were honest, as far as he could tell, and generally well liked among your crew. He appreciated your looks, but that was secondary to your personality, a first for Crocodile. He even started to appreciate your circus outfits, always completed by a large scarf, no matter the weather. Even without your chess skill, he would have liked to bring you onto his crew. He was going to broach the subject tonight and ask you formally to leave the Clown. He knew you would agree. He was the better choice by a long shot. Crocodile had more money, more power, more influence than the Clown would ever have. He was smarter, stronger, and richer, there was no way you’d want to stay with a second-rate loser like the Clown.

“Checkmate,” you said, moving a rook into place. You smiled at Crocodile, as he ran a hand through his hair. “By the way, that’s your tell.” Crocodile’s eyes snapped to yours.

“What are you talking about? I have no tell,” Crocodile snarled. You smiled again. Anyone else would shortly have been drained of life, but Crocodile found you endearing. Cute, even.

“It’s good to know your own tells,” you continued, undeterred by Crocodile’s outburst. “You run your hand through your hair when you are blindsided. If you can sense something is coming, you don’t. But if you are surprised, well, that’s your tell.” Crocodile paused, no one had shared that with him before. But perhaps no one had surprised him as frequently as you.

“Speaking of surprises, I have something I’d like to ask you,” Crocodile drawled, lighting a new cigar. You were already preparing to leave after the completion of the third game. That was another thing, Crocodile found himself wanting to spend more time with you outside of your matches. Having you on his crew would help with that as well. You sat back down, watching Crocodile calmly, waiting for him to continue. “I’d like you to join my crew.”

“No.”

You declined instantly and decisively. Crocodile ran a hand through his hair, scowling.

#crocodile x you #crocodile x reader #crocodile one piece #x reader #crocodile would be a sore winner #and a sore loser #op x y/n #croc x reader #sir crocodile #i think he'd also be a board flipper

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kates-dump · 1 year ago

Text

My experience with Analog Horror/ARGs and why you should check them out

Marble Hornets: the classic, and a big favorite of mine for obvious reasons. I cannot stress enough how good and spooky that series is, and the ToTheArk videos gave me nightmares, love it! <3

If you're into Slenderman stories, you should definitely check it out. The acting is very well done and the story is awesome overall :)

The Sun Vanished: the ARG that started my interest for ARGs, and especially enigmas/internet puzzles. Unfortunately I was not smart enough to figure the stuff out by myself, so I just watched explanations on it. Highly recommended if you like post-apocalyptic settings and subtle horror.

The Mandela Catalogue: possibly the series that brought back my interest for these things. I have only watched the first two seasons of it, as I sadly lost interest after a while, but from what I have watched, I would recommend it to those of you who like horror with religious themes (which is a big thing for me) and most importantly, trust issues. Do keep in mind this series deals with more serious and dark topics, though you have probably heard it already.

Local58: the analog horror of all analog horrors, Local58 barged in before TMC took the spotlight. There is so much going on and all of it is very interesting and scary. America's pride leads to its doom, the moon can control electronic devices, and weird creatures spread through the world. If you like stories that leave you not understanding what the hell just happened but loving it anyway, you will love Local58.

Rocket Archives: A single-video series that has unfortunately been taken down for reasons I am not certain of. But if you're curious what it was about, the video presented a reality where us humans were forced to leave Earth with how hot it was getting, and moved to contained bubbles in space. Suddenly, uh oh! The sun's getting closer! Outer Wilds moment! Everything is melting! Humans are gone and the sun is... alive???

Analog Archives: made by the creator of Rocket Archives, has also been taken down but can still be found re-uploaded. The series is slightly similar to Local58, as in it also focuses on broadcast hijacking used for ending off humans. The series also includes a few religious topics that can get very dark. I love it. "Nature Show" makes me tear up with fear every time.

Gemini Home Entertainment: ALL-TIME FAVORITE MOMENT!!! I don't think I need to explain why I love this one so much. GHE leaves a lot to your imagination/speculation, while also twisting your head directly into the direction of the threat and forcing you to look at it while you squirm in fear. GHE is subtle in the most obvious way, obvious in the most subtle way, and most importantly, IT'S COSMIC HORROR, BABY!!! THERE IS A PLANET IN OUR SOLAR SYSTEM THAT GOT HERE UNINVITED AND NOW IT WANTS TO EAT US!!! UGHHHH I can't put in words why I think it's so good, it just is. Watch it. The Gardeners are cute, I swear. There's even a plush of them.

Monument Mythos: something something alternate realities, something something time loops. I have not watched all of it, barely even half, but I deemed it a little bit too confusing for my brain. BUT! If you're into things that boogle your mind, you might really like this series! I mean, world monuments are alive, what could be scarier?

Vita Carnis: EW. (affectionate)

But, seriously, if you like gross, you are certainly going to like this series. It's meat, and it's alive. Although, I did stop watching it because it got a tad too graphic and violent for my taste, but if that doesn't bother you, then I recommend it a lot! The editing is soooo good, and some of the creatures are very likable and cute ^v^ (the others are gross and I do not want them near me I do not WANT FUCK OFF)

Don't Look at the Moon: Minecraft spooky. Do I need to say more?

#katesaysthings #analog horror #arg #marble hornets #the sun vanished #local 58 #the mandela catalogue #rocket archives #analog archives #gemini home entertainment #monument mythos #vita carnis #don't look at the moon

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always-sleeepy-headd · 6 months ago

Text

Nightmare? Dream? Fuck that I choose Error

Summary:

Swap's smarter. Better. Stronger.

But they don't need to know.

Until he's fed up and bored at least.

Notes:

Inspired by https://archiveofourown.org/works/49249111 By https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReikoNatsume/pseuds/ReikoNatsume

_______

Swap wasn't like them.

Dream.

Ink.

Hell, even the Bad Sanses.

He was smarter.

Better.

That's why he walked the halls of both places without the other even batting an eye.

That's how he always does things.

He'll win no matter the cost.

Win what you may ask?

Attention, excitement, entertainment.

The multiverse is his playground, and he was gonna put it in its place.

...

Per usual, Swap was walking down the winding halls of Ink's forever changing house in the Doodle Sphere with no intent other than to ame the halls with boredom heavy in his eyes and soul. He walked for about a mile before ending up right where he began, just to see the path had changed again, he almost liked the ever changing nature of the Doodle Sphere, it calmed him in a strange sense.

"Oh! There you are Swap!" Ink giggles and runs over to him.

"Hi Ink! What's up?" Swap asks, mentally sighing at how strained he sounded. Ink didn't seem to notice of care though.

"Well, I was looking for you but you disappeared again! I don't understand how you know this place better than me, you walk around and just find the exact place you want to go!" Ink pouts, "It's absolutely no fair."

Swap laughs slightly, and then pats Ink's head a little. "I have just as much trouble, I just don't care where I'm going most of the time."

"UGHHH It's so annoying-" Ink seems to remember something and he ruffles through his scarf to find it. "Aha! I wanted to ask you how it went at Nightmare's?"

"I haven't gone yet Ink, he expects me there in..." Swap looks at the time and realizes he lost track when wandering. "Oh! Ten minutes from now, I guess it's a good thing you found me because I totally would've just kept wandering."

"Jeez, that could have been bad- Anyway are you sure you don't need help figuring out what to tell them? You always make it up on the spot and I imagine that can be scary..." Ink says, Swap had been spying for The Stars for a while now.

When Nightmare came up to ask him to spy for him in the Stars he told Ink and Dream, he quickly thought about how easy this would make everything for him.

So now he's 'spying' for both sides, Ink and Dream have no idea how he does it without getting caught and how quickly he gained Nightmare's trust is startling.

"Uhh, well I don't make it up on the spot, I have a very complicated system in my head that'll give them some information that is correct but a leave out parts of our plans that make it look like I had no idea about it and you or Dream are just acting impulsively." Swap sighs slightly, "It is a little stressful but it's really easy to lie to someone who thinks both of you are so incredibly stupid."

"Oh! Huh, I guess that makes sense. ... Actually! That's really smart! So they'll expect things to go one way while you still are trusted!"

"Yeah! Exactly, but I should get going now, Nightmare hates tardiness."

"Oh, alright! Be careful!"

Swap waved his goodbyes to Ink and climbed through a portal, Ink startles as he isn't used to Swap using portals to get around.

Sure was good that Nightmare taught him how though.

...

Swap enters the almost baren AU that the Bad Sanses reside in. It is covered in forest and at the center of it is a large castle where Nightmare's office is located, and it's where he's supposed to be three minutes from now.

Woops.

He really needs to manage his time better.

Swap begins to sprint down the the trail that leads to gigantic and terrifying castle that the Bas Sanses call home, then he realizes he could just teleport.

Woops.

I guess this is why Error calls him so many names.

catches his breath instead of spriting there and teleports outside of the office with a minute to spare, then decides it would be funny to bust in there at the very last moment, even if it costs him his life.

Right when the clock turns he shoves the door of Nightmare's office open, not realizing Cross trying not to laugh at him from around a corner.

Cross was pretty sure Nightmare was gonna kill Swap and Swap could have easily prevented it and just not stood in front of his door until the last second.

Luckily for Swap, he survived.

"... Hello Swap." Nightmare says, Killer was standing next to him with his usual pissy smile.

"You sure came in at the last moment." Killer says, his smile only growing more manic by the second.

"... I suppose." I say, as I have to be careful around someone as unpredictable as Killer.

Nightmare lets out a sigh, "Your report of what has happened with the Stars?" He says, going straight to the point.

"Something big is happening, I almost considered coming here sooner because of it." Swap says, weaving a lie so easily not even Nightmare would be able to tell. "I decided it would be okay to wait though... Nightmare, Dream plans to turn the tides of the war completely using this new AU, it was named a copy of Haventale and it's copy code is HGRJ3792. Haventale copies usually give large amounts of positivity anyway, but this copy seems to be different. It's inhabitants seem to have no emotion whatsoever, so when Dream went to scope it out his positivity gave them emotions that they have never felt before and they came to consider him a biblical God. Ink decided he wanted to milk this and turn things there way by using the inhabitants as missionaries, this will not only make the multiverse view Dream as all knowing but will completely drown out any other Gods of the multiverse, as if Dream was the main and most powerful. This would make it so much easier to spread positivity but also to make you look completely irrelevant."

Nightmare's face as Swap said this was absolutely priceless, even Killer seemed a little startled.

"... And how do you suggest we prevent this...?" Nightmare asks.

"Well, the plan has not yet been set into motion due to Dream's reluctance to use others for his own benefit, but Ink is utterly thrilled about this and I'm certain even if Dream refuses Ink will go behind his back and make it a reality. So simply you just need to eradicate the universe, these people are dangerous though, they've gotten a taste of freedom and would die for it." Swap says, Nightmare's shoulders untense slightly at the easy solution.

"Good, it seems you've thought a lot about this." Nightmare starts. "But won't Dream and especially Ink not only notice what we're doing and try to stop us, plus this will put you in a bad position?"

"Hm, well, quite simply I'll be fine, Dream and Ink suspect nothing of me. But it'll be hard to prevent them from attempting to stop you." Swap states then pauses. "I don't suppose I could make a distraction hm? It's quite easy to pull Ink's attention away from things... besides..." Swap smiles in a uncanny way that Nightmare blinks at, it slightly surprising him. "I have the perfect thing~"

"Well then," Nightmare smiles evilly, I suppose we'll need to set a date then."

...

Swap smiles as he leaves through his portal, it startles Nightmare slightly and it annoys him that Ink and Dream are just going all willy nilly and teaching everyone to use portals, it sure worked out for him in this case though.

Dream greets Swap as he gets back, and Swap realizes his still is doing the evil smile thing an laughs slightly.

"Hi Dream! I can't help but get into character when I'm over there." Swap says rubbing the back of his head.

"Oh it's fine! I'm just glad you're okay, I always get worried when you go there..." Dream says.

"Nope! Perfectly fine here! There is a BIG problem though!" Swap says, flinging his arms out to insinuate how bad it is.

"O- Oh? What is it?" Dream asks nervously.

"It's pretty bad, where's Ink?" Swap asks.

"He's over here." Dream says, grabbing Swap's arm and pulling him into the living room.

"Oh! Swap, you're back!" Ink says jumping to his feet.

"Yep! And Nightmare is planning something BIG!"

"Uh oh, what is it?" Ink asks, sitting back and down, he is quickly followed by Dream and Swap.

"Nightmare is planning a big attack on a Haventale AU copy, normally this would be mostly fine but this is a special Haventale. It's the communication hub for all Haventale's and Haventale has always been a big source of positivity right? So they plan to send a message to a bunch of Haventale copies that have contact with them and basically scare them ALL."

"What?!" Ink and Dream both say.

"I- I wasn't even aware that was a thing." Dream says.

"Me neither! But it's actually real I checked just to make sure." Swap says, he CAN'T let this plan fail, not after all his hard work.

"Well, do you know when?" Ink asks.

"Yes actually!"

...

Today was the day, Swap COULDN'T mess this up, he was counting on him.

He had gotten the message from Nightmare that they were leaving, Swap NEEDED Ink and Dream to be there NOW.

He rushed down the hall and into the living room where Ink and Dream were getting ready.

"We need to go NOW!" Swap says, and opens a portal to HGRJ3792.

Ink and Dream pile themselves into it, expecting nothing.

Perfect.

...

The Bad Sanses find themselves in an AU covered in forest.

"We just need to find where they're residing and destroy every last one, we should have a lot of time, Swap seemed very confident." Nightmare says, but Cross can't help but feel a lump him his throat, something was off.

They walked for a while until they heard feet pattering on the forest ground, someone was there.

"It smells like it's just two of them... I think we can take them..." Horror grumbles.

Nightmare was about to respond but the two forms leap out from the bushes with their weapons pointed at them.

"Nightmare! Stop this madness!" Dream yells.

Ink is standing with his Brush out next to him.

"What in the world?!" Nightmare hisses. "Is this some sort of set up?!"

"No? You were going to try to destroy this communication AU!" Ink yells.

"Communication AU?" Cross mumbles, startled.

"Yeah! You aren't going to spread negativity this way!" Ink says.

"You're trying to manipulate monsters into thinking you're their savior!" A pissed Dust yells.

"What... are you talking about...?" Dream asks lowering his weapon a little.

"What are you talking about?!" Killer yells.

"But... Swap said..." Ink mumbles.

"Boss.. do you think..?" Cross asks wide eyed.

"We've both been played..." Nightmare says in amazement, Swap had been tricking BOTH of their sides... but why?

"But- but-" Dream looks around. "Hey... where did Swap go?!"

"He tricked us both Dream, it's quite impressive.."

"NO! Swap would NEVER!" Ink says.

"Swap agreed to spy for me already behind your backs." Nightmare says.

"We knew about that! He didn't betray us, he spun the truth around to make it so he could lie to you while making it look like I was just changing plans!" Ink yells.

"Yet he's gone, and he lied, I don't feel any other lifeforms in this universe now that I've checked." Nightmare says. "You have to at least consider-" Nightmare was interrupted by a certain glitch.

"ThAt YoU'vE bEeN pLaYeD bItCh." Error laughs and everyone looks up in horror to see the God of Destruction with Swap holding on to his arm and giggling. "YoU sTuPiD fUcKs JuSt LiStEnEd ExAcTlY tO BeRrY wItHoUt EvEn BaTtInG aN EyE."

"Swap! I don't know what Error told you but it isn't true!" Ink attempts.

Swap giggles and hopped off the big branch he and Error were standing on to look cool.

"I've been working with Error this entire time silly! It's been fun messing with you though!" Swap says. "You made it SOOO easy, all I had to do is pull the innocent card and everyone just fell into my hands like putty!"

"No..." Dream whispered.

"Yep! I could control EXACTLY what you guys did and where you went! All had to do was make up some stories and have them so you guys collide while Error was busy at work!" Swap says.

"Doing what exactly...?" Cross slowly asks.

"Oh I an SO glad you asked, I distracted you so Error could easily keep the balance that you all keep destroying! It's a hard job for just one monster!" Swap can barely contain his excitement and Error's smile reflected just how much apricates Swap, even if it wasn't obvious to anyone there. "So, I guess you're wondering why we brought you here! Well, you guys have recently REALLY fucking up the balance, so you have two choices! This war ends right here and now by YOUR choice or by ours!"

"What are you talking about?!" Ink yells, his eyes darting back and forth from Error and Swap.

"Well, you dumbass's destroying things with your back and forth, so it's simple! No more trying to make more positivity and no more trying to make more negativity, also Ink, you need to stop making so many AUs and instead just let the multiverse take care of it." Swap says.

"So... you want us to have a... truce?" Cross asks.

"Exactly! I knew I liked you Cross." Swap says and Cross flushes in embarrassment, he isn't used to complement's at ALL.

"What are you going to do if we don't?" Dust asks.

"Kill you." Swap answered short and bittersweet.

Error snickers from up on his branch and jumps down.

"YoU fIlThY gLiTcHeS sHoUlD bE GlAd YoU HaVe BeRrY hErE pRoTeCtInG yOu, I wOuLd'Ve JuSt KiLlEd You." He says.

"It's your choice." Swap smiles in a controlling way, a way that you know that you better do what he says or he'll hurt you. badly.

Everyone looks around and then all come to an easy decision.

"I think we choose to live." Nightmare says, normally if it was just Swap saying this he'd laugh and laugh and laugh, but Error being in the mix meant that his words actually meant something, Error could easily kill all of them.

Dream and Ink nod.

"Good! I'm glad we could come to a decision as adults here." Swap smiles as Error wraps his arm around his waist and pulls him in for a kiss.

They loved each other and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

And that was exactly how they liked it.

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stromuprisahat · 7 months ago

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Second Army disorganization

Siege and Storm- Chapter 14

One of the most frustrating and famously nonsensical passages of Grisha trilogy, easily explained through doylist approach- the author's inability to write strategy or politics and demands of the genre, requiring a weak, unfit heroine to defeat immensely powerful opponent way out of her league:

Alina: Oh no, they dare to oppose me again! :(

Isn't that why would you want to establish a council in the first place? So you get constructive criticism and suggestions to do things better?!

My objections to the notion Alina came up with representation of Grisha can't be more obvious:

Army is a structured organization. There are ranks and councils by default. No amount of ignorant teens will persuade me calling it "Second" makes it otherwise.

Any big organization has a structure. Even if Second Army were only about education, there would be councils and posts on different levels. Hell, school system works that way.

Alina: I'm gonna have the useless ones represented, because we're not doing things like the Darkling, but that doesn't mean I'll respect them myself or abandon my prejudices. Fucking nerds. Weidos...

Another YA nonsense- you cannot put people into categories based on their physical predispositions, and expect the mental ones to fit accordingly. You can have a huge, muscled guy, skilled in delicate handiwork. You can have a tiny wisp of a girl beating the living shit out of you (popular trope by itself).

Now why should sensitivity to metals get you a spot in labs, if you're a strategic genius? Or incredibly skilled, witty rhetorician? Isn't it more likely you'd be required to complete basic training to stay healthy and prevent accidentally endangering others, while being assigned to whatever you're most useful at?

And what about those weak or less intelligent ones? Are they bringing coffee and arranging entertainment?!

It also fits this fan interpretation, that Materialki are often neuro-divegent, so they are tend to be kept away from battle for their own sake.

Alina wasn't involved in practical running of Second Army before. Just because she doesn't know about something, it's not a totally fresh idea.

I'd be afraid of a girl, who almost murdered a bunch of people for asking questions, too.

At this point, I'm gonna run with the idea that all the older Grisha are torn between face-palming and silently laughing their assess off (so Alina doesn't overhear and her clique doesn't resort to violence).

“But what do they do in there?” I asked, not entirely sure I wanted to hear the answer. “Only the Corporalki know. But there are rumors that they’ve been working with the Fabrikators on new … experiments.”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 8

... and that says nothing about the field, or the little groups in noble houses. People tend to stick together with their own, when in strange enviroment. I'm sure such bonds dissolve immediately after their return "home".

I've also delved a little into the sitting order here.

A few lines earlier, Alina noted Materialki didn't show up to complain. Who is so horrified then?! Not them, for sure.

Ironically, this fits into Fabricator-brain theory linked above AND the most logical explanation- Materialki have basic self-defense training, but only those, who are able to, continue. Alina isn't particularly friendly with any of them, so how would she know no one had EVER bothered to teach them? Alright, there are none in her class, but as far as we know, it consists of a Squaller, an Inferni and a Heartrender. Not the most saying sample.

Having a third of all Grisha helpless doesn't fit into the picture of Aleksander's leadership:

“That’s what Botkin always says. ‘Not showy, just to make pain,’” I said, imitating the mercenary’s heavy accent. “Smart guy.” “The Darkling doesn’t think Grisha should rely on their powers for defense.”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 17

You don't have to become another Bruce Lee, you only need a chance, when they drag you out of bed in the middle of the night.

What tradition?

This is rather well-written group of angry, disorganized people. It might start with a reasonable goal, but soon everyone talks about something else than others, and the message gets lost in the noise.

Tradition doesn't equal "the way things are done". Neither of them is the same as "the need for structure and people knowing their places". The third one is a legitimate concern, although one could argue it's exactly what Alina's attempting.

This whole scene very much reads like:

The author is desperate to prove the Heroine isn't quite useless- she has good ideas! Look! *whacks a hundreds of years old stategist and survivor par excellence with stupid stick*

#Grishaverse #S&S Chapter 14 #The Darkling #Alina Starkov #Second Army #Materialki #grishanalyticritical #Second pseudoArmy #S&B Chapter 8 #S&B Chapter 17 #meme #V #Siege and Storm #Grisha trilogy #books #quotes #Leigh Bardugo #anti Leigh Bardugo

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rainybyday · 2 years ago

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Pt 1 | Pt 2

Jazz didn’t know she was different just as much as she didn’t know the definition of ‘normal’.

She started out fine as rain, a beautiful baby girl with pale blue eyes and wispy hair with an ear-splitting cry. She was a healthy baby, a beautiful one at that once you get passed her loud screaming.

The first few years of caring for Jazz were simple as much as it was exhausting. She was a giggling bundle of joy when Jack would swing her around, she stayed perfectly content with her stuffed rabbit when Maddie was in the lab, and she never created a fuzz as she babbled at anyone and everything, even into an empty room.

Maybe that was the first sign of her abnormality. Similar to how the first mistake the Fenton parents made was to leave their daughter alone more and more often.

They didn’t see their daughter's first steps and the encouraging whispers with her as they clapped and cooed. They don’t understand that she always had someone to guide her away from the green chemicals around the halls but was unable to stop her parents from feeding her contaminated food. They don’t hear how she always seemed to talk to the air, giggling and laughing into an empty room along with the process of other voices.

Maybe that's how it started, but her... abnormalities weren’t mentioned until she was enrolled in daycare.

The teachers didn’t know how to handle the too-smart girl as she explains why she won’t read the children's books they provided. They don’t understand why she prefers to be alone in the classroom when recess time came about. And they certainly didn’t understand how this young child, this baby, understood the biological system of the human blood system.

(They don’t see nor understand the ghosts of lonely children trying to play in a room filled with living children, all ignoring their presence. But Jazz could see them, hear them crying in child-like frustration and curling into themselves as they watch the living with envy.)

(Jazz, like the sweet girl that she was, took it upon herself to help. So, she would read out loud to the dead children before realizing they already heard of the stories this daycare had far too many times and demanded different books to entertain them. She would beg the caretakers to leave her in the classroom to keep reading for the children that were left behind far too many times. For children who died a long time, they were very quick to pick up their education as much as Jazz with learning the alphabet to understanding multiplication to learning about biology.)

(The day she had to leave and enter 1st grade was the day she watches the children all leave one by one. She didn’t cry like one would expect when watching her friends leave before her, because she knew they had to leave one day. That's what Granny Vicky told her when she talked about the kids at school. All she did was stand next to the teacher at the door and waved them all goodbye.)

(And if she cried at home with Big Sister Annlee and Sister Rosa then no one would know. Not even her parents.)

The neighbors didn’t understand that the noises they would hear for many nights were Jazz sneaking out late in the night and not a wild raccoon. They didn’t bother to understand until the husband went out the back to take a smoke only to see a child dropping from her parent's fence and booking it towards the streets. She didn’t stop for his cries for her to come back and the husband went back to tell his wife what he saw as she called the local police.

They both waited that night, watching the window as the husband sat down on the sofa with a drink in hand with the wife jittering around the living room. It was later nearly 3 in the morning when they saw the signs of red and blue lights before they could sigh a sigh of relief.

(They didn’t see the way the poor girl cried with flush cheeks or angry red eyes. Didn’t understand as they went back to bed with the knowledge that the girl was going back home when her parents themselves didn’t know.)

(Jazz learned from Annebeth about how the women in burned gowns would always gather in the spring and summer days to sing and dance in the forest in memories of their lives before. She was told to ask first before joining and so she went up to a pretty lady in a green ivy gown and emerald jewels if she can visit their nightly dance. She watched as the woman laughed with a gentle look before she declared how wonderful it was for a young lady to still have manners these days before agreeing to see her that night.)

(Jazz would then visit the ladies and young women in gowns in the night and watch as they dance over water and moonlight, their burns fading away into beautiful white skin. She was told to not bring a flashlight as they didn’t want any light or fire near their celebrations. Jazz learned to dance in the spring and understood how to sing sweet melodies in the summer with other girls dotting and adoring her as one of their own.)

(When she was pulled away by a man in blue and white, she wanted to scream bloody murder, but she was taught better than that by her Big Sisters. So, she silently got in and watched with sad eyes as the Big Sisters she was walking with also looked devastated at her forceful withdrawal.)

Maddy didn’t notice at first how much time her daughter was spending with her now. But to be blunt, it was more of Jazz following and watching her rather than going up and talking to her. Hence, she didn’t worry about her daughter's behavior as long as she was able to do her research. It was during the third week of doing this did her daughter ask if they could go to the doctor.

“Are you sick,” Maddie worriedly looked over her daughter as she reached a hand out to her. Jazz paused, as if the concept of being sick was foreign to her, before nodding rapidly.

“Yeah! I think I’m a little sick Ma... and, and I don’t want you to get sick either. So you have to let the doctor check you too in case I got you sick!”

(Jazz wondered what she was looking at and tilted her head in a curious manner. The spark, a wisp actually, was so very small and fragile looking inside of her Ma. Bearly there if Jazz didn’t take the time to watch her Ma at the dinner table as she ate another slightly green pancake.)

(When she asked around it was actually Old Man Whithel that told her, as he sat on her window stand, that it was the start of a new life, or as he put it, “another doe-eyed sibling for ya to take care of you hear little miss.”)

(Jazz was excited by that news. A baby sibling! Even better, Jazz noticed as she was jumping at the tips of her toes, that it looked like it was a boy with baby black hair and blue eyes too! Jazz was so excited for her new baby brother to come and couldn’t wait until her Ma can finally visit the doctor like how one of her Big Sisters’ told her.)

(She was going to a sister, a sister in charge of her little brother.)

But alas, she didn’t see nor understand why she never considered ‘normal’ to her fellow Amity Parkers. Didn’t understand that the bright firey hair she adored herself or the bright teal eyes she would always be complemented by the others were seen as to abnormal.

She can hear the adults when they talk about her ‘quirks’ and she stood strong when other children said she was a freak like the rest of her family. She wasn’t afraid of the attention she received because, in the end, their words never made sense to her, hence, could not hurt this little girl.

That all changed when a boy, a classmate of hers, called her a witch on her way home.

Pt 3

Tags: @igotafewbadideas @skulld3mort-1fan @iamheretoconsumeandsharethatisit @runfromthemedic @angelheartgamer @overtherose @avelnfear @amercurio @justreadingthefanfics @learning-to-fly-on-my-own @emergentpanda-blog

#jazz fenton #jazz is creepy #jazz is adorable #jazz is smart #for a child at least #ghost #unnatural #danny fenton #Maddie Fenton #jack fenton #amity park #dp x dc #dc x dp #i swear is a cross over let me get to part 3 #baby jazz just wants her time to shine #let the sunshine baby make freinds

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william-m-lucipher · 3 months ago

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RATING A FEW OF MY PUPPETS!

THEY ALL HAVE THEIR UPSIDES AND DOWNSIDES! HERE ARE MY OPINIONS ON A HANDFUL OF 'EM!

SIXER: MASSIVE AMOUNT OF BRAIN SPACE, FILLED WITH COMPLEXITIES! ALSO A GOOD CHUNK OF EMBARRASSING NERD MEMORIES. HIS MIND IS WHERE ALL THE LUXURY WAS!

BODILY EXPERIENCE WAS INTERESTING, HIS EYESIGHT WAS LACKING EVEN WITH THE GLASSES. IT SEEMS HE'D GONE A WHILE WITHOUT RENEWING HIS PRESCRIPTION. SURE, THE GLASSES LESSENED THINGS, BUT YEESH! ONE EYE WAS ALWAYS WORSE THAN THE OTHER, BUT THEY WERE BOTH IN BLURRYTOWN. TALK ABOUT A LACK OF DEPTH PERCEPTION! THE EXTRA FINGERS THOUGH, THEY WERE FUN! AND THAT GUY HAD A DECENT-ISH PAIN TOLERANCE THANKS TO THOSE OLD BOXING LESSONS HE AND HIS BROTHER WERE FORCED TO DO. IT WAS FUN TO TEST THE LIMITS!

A SOLID 8/10, GREAT GUY TO WORK WITH, POSSESSION EXPERIENCE COULD'VE BEEN BETTER THOUGH!

PINE TREE: BRAINWISE, LESS COMPLEXITY, MORE COMEDY, AT LEAST IN MY EYE! HE WAS A SMART KID, SURE, BUT MAN, RERUNS OF HIS LOWLIGHTS WILL KEEP ME ENTERTAINED FOR AGES. IMAGINE AN ACTUALLY FUNNY CRINGE COMPILATION THAT NEVER GETS OLD! THAAAAT'S PINE TREE!

AS FOR THE BODY, BETTER EYESIGHT, BETTER JOINTS, AND THE PAIN TOLERANCE WAS TERRIBLE, WHICH WAS GREAT FOR ME! IT WAS THE FIRST THING I NOTICED WHEN I TOOK THE STRINGS, HAHA! THOUGH BEING SWEATY, SMELLY, AND TICKLISH KINDA RUINED THE DELUXE SUITE FEEL. EH, WHEN DEALING WITH THE HUMAN BODY, THERE'S NO WAY TO HAVE IT ALL, EVER.

7/10, AT LEAST I'VE GOT A LOT TO LAUGH ABOUT.

HIRSCHEY: I THINK IT'S PRETTY OBVIOUS AT THIS POINT THAT I'VE BEEN PULLING THE STRINGS WITH FLANNELBRITCHES FOR A GOOD WHILE NOW. LONG BEFORE HE EVEN SECURED A ROLE WITH THE MOUSE, I'VE BEEN A SUBTLE INFLUENCE!

NOW LISTEN, I'D LOVE TO SPILL EVERYTHING, BUT THIS GUY HAS ALL THE RIGHT CONNECTIONS TO RUIN EVERYTHING IF I MAKE THE WRONG DECISIONS WHILE USING MY OTHER PUPPETS IN THIS REALITY. LET'S JUST SAY, HIS BODY IS MID, BUT HIS MIND ALONE ADDS EXTRA POINTS! I CAN'T EVEN BEGIN TO EXPLAIN, HAHA!

9/10, WHAT A GOOD FRIEND!

BURNSIDES: OH WAIT, I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THIS YET! WINK! HAHA, COME BACK TO THIS POST FOR THE ANSWER ON SMOKEY'S BIGGEST FAN IN A FEW DAYS.

?/10, TO BE ANNOUNCED

EAS-Y: THE ONE I'M CURRENTLY USING! GONE BY SEVERAL DIFFERENT NAMES, BECAUSE THEIR MEAT SUIT IS LITERALLY STUFFED WITH SEVERAL DIFFERENT PEOPLE DUE TO CHILDHOOD TRAUMA, HAHA!! THE HUMAN MIND HAS SOME WEIRD COPING MECHANISMS. E.A.S STANDS FOR THE SILLY NAME FOR THEIR SYSTEM THEY PICKED ONE DAY ON A WHIM.

MY FAVORITE ONE HERE HAS TO BE ZILLARA, WHO I ONCE REFERRED TO AS "T" DURING AN APRIL FOOL'S EVENT ON THE SYSTEM'S ABANDONED ACCOUNT. (IT WAS SHORT FOR THE COLLECTIVE DEADNAME OF THIS VESSEL.) HE'S AN OLD HOST AND AN OLD PAL! Z'S BEEN SO... GENUINELY NICE TO ME FOR ALMOST TEN YEARS NOW. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH HIM?! HAHA!!! Ah... ENOUGH ABOUT JUST ONE GUY, THOUGH, THIS PLACE IS PACKED WITH EM! BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN THEY DON'T HAVE WIGGLE ROOM. THIS MIND IS MORE SPACIOUS THAN PINE TREE AND SIXER'S COMBINED, BUT IT'S ALL BEING USED ON KEEPING FOLKS COMFORTABLE AND GUARDING HARMFUL MEMORIES. LISTEN, I'M NOT SALTY ABOUT THE MEMORY GUARDING. I TOOK A PEEK, AND JEEZ, IT'S DEFINITELY FOR THE BETTER.

ANYWAYS, THIS PLACE IS LAYED OUT LIKE A WHOLE SMALL TOWN! BEST VACATION HOME OUTTA ALL OF 'EM! AS AMAZING AS HIRSCHY'S IS, IT'S BUSY BUSY BUSY EVERYWHERE, ALL THE TIME. PARTIALLY MY FAULT FOR GETTING HIM INTO THE ANIMATION INDUSTRY. SORRY THERE, BUDDY!

THE DOWNSIDE TO IT ALL IS THAT EVEN THOUGH THERE ARE PLENTY WHO LIKE ME HERE, I'VE ALSO GOT A FAIR SHARE OF ENEMIES WHO CALL THEMSELVES "PROTECTORS" AND "GATEKEEPERS." NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF AN ANGRY SECRETARY LADY, LET ME TELL YOU!

BODY WISE, IT'S QUITE THE PAIN BUFFET! BAD JOINTS, MIGRAINES, LOW PAIN TOLERANCE, AND MAN, THE TICS AND SEIZURES! YOU'D THINK GIVEN MY EXPERIENCE WITH BODY SPASMS WHILE PUPPETING PINE TREE, I'D HATE THESE, BUT THIS IS DIFFERENT! IT'S SOME OF THE FUNNIEST PAIN, THE PUNCHLINE HITS YOU OUTTA NOWHERE, SEVERAL TIMES, IN SEVERAL DIFFERENT WAYS!

8.5/10, TALK TO YOUR PROTECTORS AND YOU MIGHT EARN THE FIRST 10, OR AT LEAST A 9.8!!!

IN SUMMARY:

- SIXER'S A DECENT PUPPET, BUT A BETTER ALLY. STILL A SHAME HE NEVER JOINED ME

- PINE TREE IS A PERSONAL COMEDY CLUB!

- HIRSCHEY IS A GREAT PUPPET, AND A POWERFUL ALLY WHO COULD EASILY BECOME MY WORST ENEMY

- I'M UNDER NDA ABOUT GUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE

- EASY HERE IS, WELL, THE EASIEST ONE!!

MAYBE I'LL RATE A FEW MORE SOMETIME, LIKE CHARLES GUITEAU, OR WITH LUCK, YOU!

#gravity falls #bill cipher #the book of bill #dipper pines #stanford pines #gus burnside

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techvault · 1 year ago

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Upgrading Your Delhi Home for Airbnb with Smart Features

Introduction

In today's fast-paced world, technology has become an integral part of our daily lives. We use it to stay connected, work, and even relax. So, why not incorporate technology into your Delhi home to make it more attractive to Airbnb guests? In this blog, we'll explore the benefits of Home Automation Technology in Delhi and how Techvault can help you set up a smart home entertainment system to impress your guests.

Why Upgrade with Home Automation Technology in Delhi?

In a vibrant and bustling city with travelers flocking in from all around the world. When you list your home on Airbnb, you want it to stand out from the rest. That's where Home Automation Technology in Delhi comes into play. With smart features, your home becomes more appealing, comfortable, and secure. Here are some compelling reasons to consider this upgrade:

1. Enhanced Guest Experience: Smart technology allows your guests to control lighting, temperature, and even entertainment systems with ease. A voice-activated assistant or a mobile app can create a luxurious and convenient experience for your guests.

2. Energy Efficiency: Smart thermostats and lighting systems can help reduce energy consumption, which is not only eco-friendly but also cost-effective in the long run.

3. Improved Security: Smart security systems with surveillance cameras and alarm systems provide peace of mind for both you and your guests. This can be a significant selling point for your Airbnb property.

4. Attract More Guests: Travelers are increasingly looking for homes with modern amenities. Upgrading your home with Home Automation Technology can help you attract a larger pool of potential guests.

Techvault: Your Partner in Smart Home Solutions

Now that you understand the benefits of Home Automation Technology, let's dive into how Techvault can assist you in upgrading your Delhi home for Airbnb. Techvault is a leading provider of smart home solutions, making it easy for homeowners to turn their spaces into high-tech havens.

Smart Lighting and Climate Control

One of the fundamental elements of a smart home is lighting and climate control. Techvault offers a range of smart lighting solutions, from energy-efficient LED bulbs to advanced smart switches. These can be controlled remotely or even set to change based on specific schedules.

Their smart thermostats are another excellent addition, allowing your guests to control the temperature in each room to their liking. This level of personalization can greatly enhance their stay.

Entertainment at its Best

Impress your guests with a state-of-the-art smart home entertainment system. Techvault can help you set up a seamless and immersive entertainment experience. With voice-activated controls or a user-friendly app, your guests can enjoy their favorite music, movies, and TV shows at the touch of a button. This is sure to leave a lasting impression and encourage positive reviews.

Security and Peace of Mind

Home security is a top concern for Airbnb guests. Techvault offers smart security solutions, including surveillance cameras and alarm systems. Guests can feel safe and secure during their stay, knowing that your property is equipped with modern security features.

Conclusion

Upgrading your Delhi home for Airbnb with Home Automation Technology Delhi can be a smart decision that can set you apart from the competition. With Techvault's smart solutions, you can create a welcoming and high-tech environment that will leave a lasting impression on your guests. From smart lighting and climate control to a top-notch entertainment system and advanced security features.

Start your journey toward a more lucrative Airbnb hosting experience today, and watch as your guest bookings increase, and positive reviews pour in. Your investment in smart technology will pay off in the form of increased occupancy and satisfied guests. So, don't wait; make your Delhi home a tech-savvy oasis and usnlock the full potential of Airbnb hosting!

Also, read:

The Role of Home Automation in Combating Power Outages in Delhi

Choosing the Right Smart Home Devices for Your Delhi Home

Originally Published by: https://automationsmarthome.blogspot.com/

#techvault #home automation technology Delhi #smart home entertainment system

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paxtonvaldovinos · 6 months ago

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Enhance Your Home with Lutron Smart Window Electric Shades

In the era of smart homes, window treatments have evolved far beyond traditional curtains and blinds. Lutron, a leader in smart home technology, offers a revolutionary solution with its Smart Window Electric Shades. These innovative shades combine advanced technology, elegant design, and user-friendly features to provide unparalleled convenience and comfort. In this blog, we’ll explore the benefits of Lutron Smart Window Electric Shades, how they work, and why they are a perfect addition to any modern home.

What Are Lutron Smart Window Electric Shades?

Automated window coverings, Lutron Smart Window Electric Shades, can be operated from a distance via voice commands, a tablet, or a smartphone. Thanks to the quiet and effective motors that drive these shades, smooth and accurate adjustments are possible. Lutron shades, which come in various designs, materials, and hues, may blend in with any interior design while offering practical advantages like light control, privacy, and energy efficiency.

Benefits of Lutron Smart Window Electric Shades

Convenience and Control: With Lutron Smart Window Electric Shades, you can easily control the amount of natural light entering your home. Using the Lutron app, you can raise, lower, or adjust your shades with a simple tap on your smartphone or tablet. Additionally, these shades can be integrated with voice assistants like Amazon Alexa, Google Assistant, and Apple HomeKit, allowing you to control them using voice commands.

Energy Efficiency: Lutron shades can significantly enhance your home’s energy efficiency. They automatically adjust based on the time of day and help regulate indoor temperatures. During the summer, the shades can be lowered to block out heat, reducing the need for air conditioning. In the winter, they can let in natural sunlight, helping warm your home and reduce heating costs.

Enhanced Privacy and Security: Lutron Smart Window Electric Shades offer increased privacy and security. You can schedule the shades to close at specific times, ensuring your home remains private, especially during the evening. Additionally, while you’re away, you can program your shades to open and close at different times to give the appearance that someone is home, deterring potential intruders.

Aesthetic Appeal: With many different materials, colors, and patterns, you may personalize these shades to complement your interior decor perfectly. Lutron offers solutions that can improve the visual appeal of any room, whether you prefer the sleek appearance of roller shades or the elegance of draperies.

Smart Integration: Lutron Smart Window Electric Shades integrate seamlessly with other smart home systems. This means you can create custom scenes that involve multiple smart devices. For example, you can create a “Movie Night” scene where the shades are lower, the lights dim, and your home theater system is turned on, all with a single command.

How Lutron Smart Window Electric Shades Work

Lutron shades operate using advanced motorized technology that ensures smooth and quiet operation. Here’s a brief overview of how they work:

Installation: Professional installation is recommended for Lutron Smart Window Electric Shades to ensure they are correctly fitted and integrated with your home’s electrical system. A certified installer will measure your windows, help you choose the right shades, and set up the system.

Control: Once installed, you can control the shades using the Lutron app, a wall-mounted keypad, or voice commands. The app allows you to set schedules, create scenes, and easily adjust individual shades or groups of shades.

Automation: Lutron shades can be programmed to operate automatically based on your preferences. You can set them to open in the morning to let in natural light and close in the evening for privacy. To maximize energy efficiency, sensors can also change the shades according to how much sunshine enters the space.

Why Choose Lutron Smart Window Electric Shades?

Lutron has pioneered smart home technology for decades and is known for its high-quality products and innovative solutions. Choosing Lutron Smart Window Electric Shades means investing in a reliable, durable, and stylish solution for your home. These shades enhance your comfort and convenience and add value to your property.

Lutron Smart Window Electric Shades are a fantastic addition to any home, offering a blend of modern technology and elegant design. With benefits ranging from improved energy efficiency to enhanced privacy and seamless integration with other smart devices, these shades provide a comprehensive solution for today’s smart home needs. Transform your home with Lutron Smart Window Electric Shades from Palm Beach Audio Visions! Experience unmatched convenience, energy efficiency, and elegant design. Control your shades with ease using your smartphone or voice commands. Schedule your consultation today and elevate your living space with cutting-edge bright window solutions!

#Control4 Smart Home Dealer - Installer #Whole Home Automation Expert Installation Company #Smart Home Technology Consultant #Design #Installation #Manager Solutions #Whole House Multi Room Home Audio Installation Services #Surround Sound Setup with In-ceiling Invisible Speakers #Sonos Dealer and Speaker Installation #Home Theater System Consultant #Design and Installation Services #Samsung QLED #Sony OLED #LG OLED Smart TV Dealer Installation Service #Universal Remote Control Smart Touch Screen Solution Programming Installation in Frenchman's Creek Palm Beach Gardens #Outdoor Patio TV speaker Solution with Surround Sound #Outdoor Entertainment System Design Installation Solution with Pool Patio Surround Sound Speakers #Lutron Smart Window Electric Shades #Lutron Homeworks Dealer Whole House Smart Lighting Consultant #Smart Home Network Setup Wifi Installation #Smart Home Security Camera Installation

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dailyadventureprompts · 2 years ago

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DM Tip: Better Random Encounters

One of the most important steps I made in my journey to becoming a good dungeonmaster was realizing that quite a lot of the system I was learning and the popular advice surrounding it was absolute garbage. 5 to 8 encounters per adventuring day? Encumbrance? Many of these things were holdovers from the days when the game consisted solely of dungeon crawling until level 10, and had no bearing on the character centric narrative adventure game I was wanting to play.

Random encounters were one of those holdovers: an expectation that every dungeon, wilderness location, and even city should have it’s own list ( level appropriate or not) of various challenges and random sights that the party should roll for by day or hour as long as they were playing the game. Specifically, they’re a holdover from a time when random encounters were the main way that players would find these sights and challenges, as much of the gameplay was otherwise about exploring a large ( and mostly empty) map of a dungeon or landscape. This is where the idea about 5-8 encounters per day really comes from.

The real problem is that encounters these days are quite a lot of work, both in that the DM has to put a lot of energy into making each encounter entertaining/challenging AND that any potential combat or RP is going to eat up a lot of table time. The workload for DMs is compounded by the fact that if the party isn’t having frequent random encounters in the same area, a good portion of their prep work is wasted, which begs the question of why do random encounters at all and not just concentrate all their efforts on one or two really good encounters? This is the route I’ve seen most groups take , leaving random encounters as obligatory filler, if they use it at all.

But what if you still like the idea of random encounters? Well below the cut I’m going to show you not only how to design encounters that take advantage of an element of randomness while still keeping that focused feel, and over here I’ll talk about how to design adventures that embody that element of discovery random encounters were supposed to facilitate in the first place.

The Jack-in-the-Box Encounter: Imagine that your party has crept into the lair of some terrifying monster in pursuit of their current goal, perhaps they’re looting a ruin, or recovering a mcguffin, or rescuing an abducted npc. They know that if they stay too long, the monster will discover them and they’ll have to face down a foe that far exceeds their current strength so they need to be smart, cautious, and fast, despite seldom being any one of these things. Allow them to explore the lair freely but every time they make noise or take a lot of time doing something, you throw a d6 into a cup or small bowl in a way that -plinks- ominously. Six dice in the bowl? Roll them, and if the number 6 comes up, the beast has arrived and the heroes have a hell of a fight on their hands.

This method of encounterbuilding allows you to have a threat looming over the party’s heads, acting like a clock that ticks forward whenever they move. The best part is that it’s possible to get to the limit of six dice and not have the jack-in-the-box encounter trigger, meaning that their luck holds out. if you want to give them extra wiggle room ( such as if they have to explore a whole dungeon without alerting the boss) you could do a countdown system, three 6 needed to pass on their first trigger, then only two, then one on every subsequent throw.

Whether or not the enemy announces itself when triggered is entirely dependant on how you want the encounter to play out: A giant might thunderously return home giving the party one last chance to dive for cover before they’re spotted, while a shadowy wraith might stalk the party from the darkness, waiting for the perfect time to strike under the pretenses that the count is still continuing.

You could also use this to represent a bountyhunter tracking down the party over the course of weeks, getting just a bit closer every time they give themselves away.

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #5e #pathfinder #ttrpg #homebrew mechanic #dm tips #dm advice #dm tip #dm tools #writing advice #DnD Mechanics #random encounters

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northopalshore · 2 months ago

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Hello, thank you in advance for answering my question. Actually, it's not a question, I'm curious about your thoughts. First of all, my groom asteroid is 21°, in the 5th house and in Aquarius; my juno asteroid is 26°, in the 8th house, in Aquarius. What do you think about my FS?

also according to the placidus system, my sun, venus and mercury are in aries in my 7th house (virgo ascendant). in the whole sign system, these three planets are in the 8th house. which one do you think will have the most effect? in the placidus system, my 8th house is aries and will these three planets being in aries in the 7th house have an effect on the 8th house?

Thank you so much have a great day 💗✨🙏

Hello!

About your future spouse;

Groom (21° Sagittarius) in aquarius 5th house:

They are someone who is very eccentric and eclectic. They are open-minded, very smart optimistic. Their career could involve a lot of teaching or standing out, and entertaining younger people i.e.students. They could work in STEM or science, or even history and artifacts. They likely work as a highschool teacher or a lecturer in university because of the Sagittarius degree.

Juno (26° Taurus) in 8th house:

You could meet them online while you're at home, or on a dating app (aquarius). Something about your relationship may be taboo perhaps there could be an age gap or there are differences in religious beliefs. You will meet them at a point of change or rebirth, perhaps it also includes moving somewhere.

About which house system to use:

I went down a rabbit hole a while back and saw the light lmao. I've read blogs from astrologers with more than 10 years of experience that stated that they've switched to whole signs because they argue that astrology is not meant to satisfy you or validate your feelings, it's a measure of time and a way to accurately predict & read your life events (which is true). Still, there are many other professional astrologers that use the placidus house system.

Placidus may work psychologically but whole signs make sense mathematically and it's much easier to read especially in extreme cases (houses skipping signs entirely look at Matty Healy's chart for example). However, I still work with both lol.

It's important to realise that astrology takes on many forms. I don't like thinking that one is more accurate than the other because then.. what about vedic astrology? And other house systems for that matter. Thus, I urge you to look at BOTH placidus & whole signs to see the bigger picture especially if you have changes in your chart when using either one.

I'll link some websites for you to read about the discourse between placidus & whole signs users below if you are interested.

i. Why whole signs?

ii. But whole signs don't account for individuality!

iii. In defence of placidus

To put it simply though, I understand the placidus as how one sees themselves & how others may perceive them

while whole signs is the reality of the situation because of how direct it is.

So looking at it from this perspective, let's look at your last question!

7th house vs 8th house:

In the placidus chart,

it says you're someone who is very focused on their close connections. Balance and harmony is very important to you & your relationships. That includes family members, friends and romantic relationships. Since venus is detrimental in aries, & sun in exalted in aries you will find that individuality can come across as a problem or a common issue is your relationships. You may also be uncomfortable showing affection in general.

In the whole signs system however,

you are someone who is very deep & introspective. You have likely gone through many changes & rebirths in your life. Themes of obsession, loss and mental health may appear very often in your identity and love life. Your finances could also play a big role in your life. You invest a lot if your time researching & thinking about the occult i.e tarot, witchcraft & astrology.

As for which one applies the most, people will say placidus but realistically I side with while signs. However, which one you want to go with depends on you it's just a matter of perspective in the end.

Hope this helps ♡

#placidus vs whole signs house system #groom in aquarius #groom in 5th house #juno in 8th house #juno in Scorpio #juno in Taurus #meeting future spouse astrology #future spouse astrology #astrology blog #love astrology #astrology observations #astro notes #astrology content #astro observations #astrology #astrology community #astrology ramblings #astrology notes

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wherevenusholdssomeofficespace · 7 months ago

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I just went through like... almost all of your posts. And loved all of them (mostly pnf and mml, haven't seen the other one yet).

But I came to ramble to you about a specific pnf character.

Stacy Hirano

Like. She's Candaces' best friend, down for anything, and doesn't get mad (much) when Candace goes to bust her brothers. Loves hanging out with Phineas and Ferb. She dated Coltrane, a band member, who barely appears again (I think, I remember him in like, 3 episodes (it has been awhile since I've watched it.))

She binged Sherlock books in a night with Candace. Tries to help bust Phineas and Ferb with and for Candace. Becomes president of... someplace.

Canonically knows Perry is a secret agent. Has helped Vanessa out in that one Halloween episode.

Just. Stacy.

I noticed you going through my stuff today and taking a break from my long day to look at someone appreciating my stuff certainly helped make my day!

And yes. Stacy is AMAZING. She's honestly such a wild character in her own right and its kind of hidden behind the fact that while she is Candace's best friend, she's not quite a major character in her own right the way Phineas and Ferb's friends are, and that honestly the kids side of things tends to be a bit under appreciated to begin with. So she mostly exists as an auxiliary character to Candace, but Candace being well, Candace, that leaves a lot of room.

On first glance Stacy seems like she's just Candace's cooler best friend. There to provide contrast on what a normal teenage girl is. Stacy's generally more fashionable, more chilled out. She's Candace's straight man. But like any of the characters she has her own moments.

We may not have seen any Candace levels of stuff from Stacy. But Stacy is pretty capable herself. Being a good skater and a Disco Miniature Golf Queen, being able to keep up with Candace on some level in some of her escapades, and handle the obstacle course. But also her just accidentally surviving the pharmacist apocalypse. She's also rather smart, somehow becomes President of Uruguay, puts together an elaborate home entertainment system. Though that said its kind of anyone's guess what she knows on a given subject, horrendously bad at geography, but has been shown to enjoy documentaries, reading Sherlock Holmes and knows when hieroglyphs were deciphered. She is at least able to keep calm in situations that others may freak out in, such as when she got bit by a spider and when Doof broke into her house she was relatively calm about the whole thing. Also relatively calm about the whole being on a ship in turbulent water fighting a shark thing.

Stacy has been Candace's friend since they were 5. As in they've been friends longer than Ferb and Lawrence have been in Candace's life. And they will continue to be friends into the future, truly a lifelong friendship. While we have seen Stacy get upset with Candace before, for prioritizing her brothers and her boyfriend, Stacy all things. Stacy does generally get the short end of the stick, such as in Run Candace Run. I think Stacy provides a sort of frame of reference for Candace's new relationships, with Jeremy and Vanessa in particular. They are people she thinks are cool and wants to impress. Stacy already knows she's a disaster, but is one that Stacy appreciates.

I LOVE her and Jeremy's relationships, what little we get of it. Jeremy is madly in love with Candace and Stacy is her long suffering friend. Both care for her a LOT but it manifests very differently between the two of them, but also very much the same. Jeremy finds a lot of Candace's flaws cute and endearing, Stacy calls her out. Jeremy encourages her in a sort of overly saccharine sort of way. Stacy hypes her up in a more "you're better than this" sort of way. But both sort of tease her with the same sort of fondness. The comfortableness they display with each other is nice. In Nerds of a Feather they call each other to ask about Candace. In the Curse of Candace where Jeremy teases her about taking Candace to a movie, both fully aware of how Candace sometimes dials things up to 11. I also adore the CATU scene with the two of the, where Stacy teases Jeremy about LARPing. Stacy is also the one who told Jeremy about Candace being Queen of Mars which also implies they talk outside of Candace which I love.

I don't think it's unfair to say that Candace isn't as good a friend to Stacy as vice versa, but I think this just has to do with the framing of the show, where Stacy doesn't have any huge wants. But when we DO see Stacy want something: for instance a trophy, Candace does so without hesitation even if she doesn't have the complete context. Also, Candace never holds it against Stacy for failing to do what she wants. I think it is also sort of sweet that by the end of the show that Stacy will just do her own thing if she can't get Candace to do what she wants, even in a normal friendship that's a sign of not being a priority.

With Stacy finding out about Perry's secret identity she really has found herself in a position to understand all sides of the mysterious force. We haven't really seen it come to fruition, but Stacy knows a lot. And I think this is great. Now, mind you, I am a firm believer that all of the teens are quite close to cracking the situation open, Candace I believe knows subconsciously, Vanessa just has to actually be invited over to the Flynn-Fletcher's once, and to a lesser extent Jeremy has taught guitar lessons to Doof and Monogram.

I've seen the idea of Stacy being like another older sister to the Flynn-Fletcher boys floating around and I buy it. Stacy is very often Candace's extra set of hands, attempting to bust Candace's brothers on her behalf. Stacy accompanied the Flynn-Fletcher's to England, and was Candace's Tree House Fight buddy. Stacy being an older sister herself also means Stacy GETS it, maybe she doesn't get Candace's exact situation. But she gets the "overly talented younger siblings who admire you for some reason even if all their attempts to get your approval really just makes you feel bad" thing.

Also besides knowing Perry's secret, the fact that she is Ginger's sister has allowed us to see more of Ginger outside of the Fireside Girls, which kind of puts her in a position of having a sort of connection to both the Fireside Girl plots, the Candace plots, and the Perry plots. No direct connection to the boys plots, but the fireside and Candace plots both intersect enough. She's kind of in a position to get to understand the whole mysterious force situation better than anyone else, aside from Perry, which I think might be interesting.

#stacy hirano #appreciate the ask!#just some of my stacy thoughts not in any particular order #there's probably more to say on Stacy's role in the story and in Candace's life but that's all I got right now

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byenycfm · 16 days ago

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Devan McCahill || 31 || Apt# 412 || Avan Jogia || Closed

Personality:

Devan is a man of charisma and audacity, the kind of individual who you either immediately take to or absolutely don't. He's devious, quick-witted, and smart — both academically and street-wise, a quite deadly combination, both in the old world and especially this new one. The duality of this man is shown quite clearly in how he has a worn, cracked-spine paperback book of the Aeneid tucked in one back pocket of his jeans and a handgun in the other, perhaps equally well used, especially in this present day. From the moment they were born, they had it hammered into them that their soul was damned for the greater good, and that does something to a young boy’s mind. After all, if you’re already going to hell, what would or should stop you from doing what needs to be done? Devan is a rule breaker, a troublemaker, a firestarter, but with enough moral fibre to not be a bad guy, per se. In every stage of his life, every aspect of his being, “do what needs to be done to make the world a better place, even if you gotta do some really bad shit to get from here to there,” has been an overarching theme. To Devan, judging every detail for good or evil will not change anything for the better, it will just stagnate progress; it’s about the bigger picture, the long term future type shit, that’s where you gotta look. You can’t win a fight weighing every stone in your hand; you find the biggest rock you can and just make sure you toss it at the right target.

Biography:

Devan was born to a young Indian-Irish woman in Swords, Ireland, and never really knew his biological father, who’d already been in prison for battery of his mother by the time he was born. It was her new boyfriend, a rough but kind bloke from Ballymun, who stepped in to take over the father role, and although it had still been a relatively new relationship by the time he was thrust into this world, the man took to it readily. Perhaps that was for the best, because even from a very young age, it was clear that Devan would be at least three-and-a-half hands full to handle.

To call them a precocious child would be the understatement of the century. By the time they were two years old, they were already reading their own books, and their mother and her boyfriend were frequent visitors to the local library just to keep them sated; if there wasn’t a book in the young boy’s hand, they'd find their entertainment elsewhere, usually in ways that ended up with something breaking. This is a trend that carried over well into adulthood – a lot of Devan's life choices can be summarised to, “just trying to stave off boredom.”

Things took a turn for the worst just after he started primary school at 3 years old. Due to his mother's work and his school being incompatible on some days, there was an arrangement made with her boyfriend's parents – who already saw the two as their own family – that he would stay the night with them so she wouldn't have to worry about anything. Her boyfriend brought him home at noon, after school, somewhere in the middle of the school year, and they had found her dead in the apartment she shared with her son, her throat slit. While the police and ambulance would be called immediately, they'd later determine that she was murdered in the middle of the night, and the main suspect was Devan's recently released biological father.

From there on, his life changed significantly. As an adult, they don't really remember their mother or exactly what happened to her, perhaps a cognitive response to protect themself from what they'd witnessed. His mother's boyfriend's parents immediately put an adoption into motion so he would still have family and he wouldn't be lost in the foster system, and so he immediately went to live with them – at first, the only thing that really changed for him was that he didn't get to see his mother anymore, his last name changed, and he had to see a lady for a whole year who wanted to talk to him about how he felt and what he was thinking about.

The next twelve years were spent being trained in parkour, hand-to-hand combat, endurance training, and indoctrinated into a mindset that his soul was to be damned for the sake of others. Alongside their cousins, who received the same training, just like the previous generation had been, they were made to patrol Dublin City, and protect anyone who needed it. Growing up, Devan slowly became aware that their family had a reputation, not only in the city or even the county, but in Leinster as a whole, and the family-owned pub – which would serve as a gathering place for the majority of his family and their family friends – was considered a place that if you were in trouble, someone made you feel unsafe and the Gardaí couldn't or wouldn't do anything with it, you could find help there. If you crossed a certain line and you had been put on that family's radar, justice would be swift and brutal. If you were lucky, you'd end up in a hospital, and if you weren't, you'd see an early grave.

Devan was already very used to the feeling of soft tissue splitting under his knuckles and bones breaking under the weight of his tire iron by the time he was fifteen. And when they were sixteen, they got their tattoo, a Celtic cross with the top right cut out so the circle formed a G, so styled for ‘Gaffney’, their adoptive grandmother's maiden name. Every child who had proven their skill and loyalty to the family would be offered to receive the tattoo at sixteen years old, and few – very few – would reject it and be disowned from the entire family. To Devan, rejection with such a steep price wasn't an option. They'd continue to do what their great uncle and his eldest son told them and their cousins to do, the years of violence and looming post-death doom already numbing their young minds to the brutality of what they did for ‘the sake of the greater good'.

Regardless of his home life and his family's brand of ‘chores’, Devan found his peace in books – any book – and language as a whole. If he had free time, he'd spend it in second-hand bookstores or learning new languages, something he took to like a piranha to bloodied water; rabidly and single-mindedly. The fact that they didn't care what they read rather than that they had something to read gave them access to an incredibly broad range of knowledge; not always very deep, but enough to make them tiresome to debate with. And debate he did, to the frustration of many of his teachers and even his classmates. He got his leaving certificate when he'd just turned fifteen, having skipped his transition year, and after a little bit of debate between his adoptive father and his father's cousin, Devan was allowed to pursue a further academic career so long as it wouldn't get in the way of his duties towards his family.

By the time he was twenty-two, he held an MA in Art History and a BA in Archaeology, but more importantly, a better perspective of his family, since he had enough time and experience away from them for the majority of his academic career after secondary school. Although they were indoctrinated to believe that what they did was a good thing, Devan saw their family for what they actually were: a gang. Not even ‘a gang but with good intentions,’ because the fact was that just about every gang started with good intentions and trying to fill a need their community had. But beyond that, it became even clear that he and his cousins, just like his father and his cousins, were nothing more than a means to an end. They weren't unloved or even unwanted, but at the end of the day, they were trained from a young age to be a blunt weapon to throw onto the streets of County Dublin. This became especially clear to Devan when he expressed a wish to see the world to his father, who wholeheartedly supported him in it, but his father's cousin, his great uncle's appointed commander, did not.

Months of arguing later, the topic was deemed settled by said commander, and Devan's chances of actually doing something they wanted to do with their life – even if it wasn't exactly clear to them what they wanted to do with their life – seemed grim, condemned to the fate of an early grave or otherwise inevitable prison time. It was their father who, one night, came by their apartment, gave them access to the money he'd saved up over the years, a plane ticket to mainland Europe, and his blessing. Devan never looked back, and hasn't returned since, knowing there are consequences waiting for him.

Between his degrees, his training, and his inability to stay put, Devan fell into the world of art and antiquity theft, first on commission from people who had money to spare and didn't trust law enforcement to actually care – art theft was and still is, after all, one of the most tolerated crimes, and lucrative to boot, given the article is genuine. He made his name getting the job done, with his occasional collaboration with the likes of Interpol and the USA's FBI solidifying this reputation. Regardless of his intermittent work with law enforcement, Devan found most of his contacts to be more criminally inclined – after all, the echelons in which he did his work, business was business, and being able to hold his own helped that a lot.

They'd been in New York City for a meeting with one Sada Vang, their cab had almost made it to the Holland Tunnel on Jersey City's side when their driver was told it was blocked off, and would possibly be reopened the morning after; they had no choice but to redirect to a hotel nearby and wait until such a time came. It never did. That evening's news said Manhattan was under quarantine due to some unknown virus and by the morning, not only had the Tunnel not been reopened, shit had hit the fan in a significant way. The first time he actually saw what people would later come to know as 'chompers', it didn't really register in Devan's mind that that was what it was, but, as used to violence as he was, he did note that that particular violence was less human, more animal.

The following months, Devan would frequently find themself in the company of other survivors – initially scared people who would prove to not be cut out for the end of the old world, and they quickly learned that trying to save those who couldn't or wouldn't save themselves would lead them into an early and absolutely unwanted grave. Or worse. It was a few weeks before proper snowfall that he'd find the people he would spend the winter with, who knew what it took to survive, most whom didn't need any babysitting at all. Unfortunately, Demeter's wrath brought with it its own difficulties, lack of supplies, lack of food, lack of a lot of things that they had to send people out for to find, at any cost. And those who returned spoke of an apartment building of survivors, the name of which sounded very familiar to him.

So once the snow had melted, they decided that maybe it was time to go to a meeting, hoping that being months late wouldn't be held against them.

Pre Outbreak Occupation: Private Detective Previous Zombie Experience: His very first was seeing a woman eviscerated by a few. Over these past months he's been forced to kill his fair share of them. Marital Status: Single Children: N/A Residence: Apt. #412 Years residing at The Wexley: Post Outbreak New Arrival Connections:

Sada Vang - Business Associate

#mccahill #closed #chara #floor 4

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