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redtsundere-writes · 4 months ago

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Part 4: Eyes On Me

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst.

Word Count: 2571 words.

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Sukuna hates humans. It's a fact of life. The sky is blue, roses are red and Sukuna hates the disgusting creatures that humans are. He has so many reasons to hate them that he doesn't even know where to begin. Humans are annoying, weak, clumsy, but most of all, stupid. They make decisions without thinking through the consequences. They prefer to spend their money on momentary pleasures and end up bankrupt by not prioritizing their survival. They worry about unimportant things such as social status, religion, and traditions. Sukuna hates humans, but boy, are they entertaining.

Sukuna tends to study his servants very carefully. Even though they only clean, cook and obey his orders to a tee, it was fun to watch them interact with each other. He finds it fascinating how the servants gossip in whispers, how the gardeners concentrate to prune the bushes well despite their hands shaking, or how the cooks taste the food several times so that it's up to their majesty's standards. It was like watching dozens of filthy lab rats in the middle of a social experiment. Although... There was someone special he loved to watch, no matter what they were doing.

The annoying bell rang, letting the servants know it was time to wake up. You got dressed, washed your face and served yourself breakfast, preparing for another hectic workday. You almost did the same thing every single day. In the morning, you set the table for the king to eat breakfast and then wash the dishes. In the afternoon, you cleaned the common rooms such as the king's hall, the bathrooms and the dining room. At night, you sometimes had to guard the hallways in case an enemy dared to attack in the dark. You made sure everything was in its place and sparkling. You constantly polished the gold and silver wares until you could see your reflection, you washed the white sheets by hand until your knuckles hurt, and you didn't eat until you finished harvesting the carrots that were ready. Being a servant was tedious work, but rewarding at the end of the day.

You had finished all the chores for the day and decided to help the cooks prepare dinner because you had nothing better to do. Your muscles were exhausted from having spent all morning cleaning the porcelain sculptures, the large frames of the paintings in the great hall, and the king's jewelry so they could sparkle in all their glory. You had been assigned the task of peeling potatoes, so there you were. Sitting at a table with a small knife, peeling potatoes while listening to the chaos going on in the kitchen. Uraume was busy preparing a special passion fruit tea for the king. The special coming from the water that was inked with human blood. Sometimes you wondered if Uraume had always agreed to cook with humans or was it something they got used to because of Sukuna's orders, but since they never talked much about themselves, you never asked.

“Fuck!” A cook yelled when the frying pan caught fire.

Your eyes widened at the flashy flare. Uraume put the tea set aside to attend to the emergency. With some ice from their magic hands, they put out the fire in a jiffy, but left the kitchen a mess. They began to berate the cook with smacks in the head and curses for his ineptitude. The cook just apologized over and over again, but that wasn't enough for the head chef.

“You!” Uraume called. You put your task aside to attend to their orders. “Take the tea to our king and tell him I will be with him when I settle this situation.” You nodded and took the tray carefully to go in search of him.

After Sukuna gave you permission, you entered the library with the golden tray in your hands. The library was the coziest room in the entire castle. Its high walls were covered with huge bookcases filled with books, maps, and ancient scrolls. There were long desks of works and hundreds of candleholders everywhere to enjoy reading during the evenings. He was sitting in one of the comfortable chairs in front of the game table, a small wooden table covered with a carpet with a chessboard on top. The king was surprised to see you there despite having specified Uraume's presence.

“I didn't ask you to come,” Sukuna said chidingly as you served him tea at a small table next to him.

“Uraume had to attend to an emergency in the kitchen. They'll be here once everything is under control,” you replied as you set down the fragile cup of blood tea, adorned with small pieces of eyeball floating on the red surface to give it texture.

Your gaze traveled to the chessboard, it had been a long time since you had seen one. This was no ordinary board. You could see that each piece was handmade and had luxurious detail. The pieces were made of white quartz, the eyes of the horses were rubies and the crowns of the kings were made of jade. It was the most beautiful board game you ever saw. You knew from the other servants that the king was a good player and only played with Uraume or some brave guest.

“Do you know how to play?” Sukuna asked out of curiosity.

Being a servant, you surely had not received the same education as he did. Well, almost no one was on his level when it came to education. Sukuna was a master mathematician, a skilled debater and could threaten his enemies in 5 different languages. You hadn't been as lucky. You're good at cleaning, cooking and obeying orders, but what else can you do?

“Yes,” you answered with a smile.

That answer surprised him quite a bit. Although chess was a game that was rapidly gaining popularity among the middle class, it was not a game for women. It was a game that required intellect, always thinking two moves ahead and knowing how to read your opponent. You didn't look like a girl who could do all that.

“Sit down,” Sukuna ordered you.

“I warn you that it may be a short game. It's been a long time since I've played,” you warned him as you sat down.

Sukuna watched you with great attention. Your eyes scanned the board as if it was the first time you had ever seen one, your hands rested gently on your thighs and you smiled nervously. You may have known the rules of the game, but you didn't know how to play. The king took your word for it.

“Ladies first,” he asked you to start.

“My pleasure,” you said as your dominant hand moved over the pieces to decide what your first move would be.

Your father taught you how to play. He always wanted a son to inherit the family business, but your mother only kept giving birth to women, so he had to resign himself to you. Your mother taught you how to be a lady so you could get married as soon as possible and your father taught you about the business so that your future husband wouldn't take advantage of the family money. You used to sit in front of the wooden board and talk for hours after dinner. Your father may not have been the wisest or the most astute man, but he had left you a very important lesson: Always look people in the eye to know their true intentions.

This was one of the few times you came face to face with Sukuna. Because of his title as king and the great difference in height, you were always beneath him, physically and psychologically speaking. You were a simple human, while he was a king with the power to get rid of whomever he wanted with a simple finger movement. Although his presence made you feel vulnerable, you didn't resent him. You had a relatively comfortable life serving him, but sometimes there was a need for you to show him that you were more than a servant. You wanted him to see you. This was a good opportunity to do so.

Sukuna's eyes were not on you, they were on the board. His gaze denoted boredom. He was waiting patiently for you to make the first move. If you waited a little longer, maybe he would yawn. He overestimated you, you had to use that feeling against him. You moved a pawn to the C4 square, a common move among beginners.

“Finally…” He said in a monotone voice before quickly moving the knight to the F6 square.

Each of you took turns to move the pieces quietly as time went by. You took your time with each move, while the king only needed to look at the board from time to time to know what to do next. You could take all the time in the world, but he would still eat all your pieces. Even though it didn't seem to be an interesting game, you could at least keep up with him. Sukuna's queen advanced towards yours, standing face to face. One false move and your king was in trouble.

“Check,” you said as the queen retreated two squares diagonally, leaving her free to begin the attack on the king.

At that announcement, Sukuna woke up from the trance he was in to focus on what he was doing. He smiled satisfied as he noticed the change in your body. Your hands had relaxed, your back was straight, and your eyes were glued to his. You knew exactly what you were doing. You didn't need to tell him verbally that you would destroy him at his own game, your eyes told him clearly. It was as if you were dissecting his soul bit by bit until you left him completely naked.

Your hands were interleaved with each turn. You moved quickly as you realized that Sukuna had already noticed your active presence on the board. Sukuna returned the queen to his side. An interesting move. It was wise to know when to back away, but you noticed one thing in his eyes. He had no plan, he just acted based on his understanding of the game. He moved like in real life, using only his killer instincts.

“Check,” you announced again by moving a knight up.

“Not so fast,” Sukuna told you before taking the horse that was threatening his king using a queen. You smiled as you saw that his majesty had fallen into the trap. By moving his pieces like that, Sukuna had fully exposed his king.

“Checkmate,” you announced the end of the game as soon as you moved the white queen close to the black king. And only then, the poor maid defeated the almighty king.

“Well, well…” Sukuna sighed in awe as he looked at the board with extreme curiosity. He couldn't be mad at you. He had let his guard down. You were playing even before the game started.

There was someone special he loved to watch, no matter what you were doing. Sukuna would always hyper fixate on you whenever he noticed your presence around him. You could be cleaning, chatting with your companions or eating some dried fruit in the garden, and he would still only notice you as if nothing else in the world existed. You were the most interesting human he had ever seen. Sukuna tried to look for a logical reason for his obsession with you, but he couldn't do it. You looked like a simple being with clear goals, but he was sure you were hiding something behind your perfect facade.

Someone knocked at the door. Sukuna sighed, he wanted to be alone with you longer, but now was not the time. Uraume entered the room and was surprised to see you sitting with his majesty. Something strange had been going on between the two of you for months. They had even debated the idea of asking the king directly about you, but hadn't worked up the courage to do so.

“There was an inconvenience in the kitchen. Sorry to keep you waiting, your majesty,” Uraume bowed in apology.

“Lucky for you, you sent a good replacement,” Sukuna said before smiling at you in satisfaction.

Uraume instantly understood just by glancing at the board. You had beaten the king, something even they could not easily accomplish. They could tell that he was looking at you like no one else. It wasn't a look of disgust or boredom, it was a curious look. Like that of a child looking at a group of kids playing in the playground, wondering if he could come over to play with them.

“If you'll excuse me, I have to go,” you said as you got up to give the seat to Uraume. “Good game. It was a pleasure to play against you, my king,” you bowed.

“Good game,” Sukuna whispered so you could leave the room.

Sukuna and Uraume started a new game as soon as you returned to the kitchen to peel potatoes. They quickly noticed that something was occupying her majesty's mind. Their white pieces were eating his black pieces easily and his moves were slow compared to previous games. Uraume could tell that the game against you had changed the way he played.

“What do you see in her?” Uraume asked him after a move.

“Am I too obvious?” Sukuna asked them before getting up from his seat to start prowling around the library to clear his mind. “What do you think of her?” He asked her as he stopped in front of the window to admire the land. The large green lawn stretched all the way to the intimidating entrance of his wonderful castle.

“She is a dedicated servant and a perfectionist. She does all the chores in a timely manner. She is as good a servant as any other. The real question is: What do you think of her?” Uraume asked as they watched him from their seat.

“She has potential.”

“Potential? Potential for what?” Uraume arched their brow at the confusing statement.

“She has the same potential as a pawn turning into a queen,” Sukuna replied confidently.

Sukuna Ryomen was known among the kingdoms for being an unorthodox king. Not only because he took kingdoms left and right as if it were nothing, but because he has a strange way of ruling his people. He did not care about social classes, behavioral labels or unwritten codes of human coexistence. Everyone was inferior to him regardless of gender, race, or religion. He was the god of this new world and everyone had to obey him, just like that.

The fact that he wanted to have a queen went far beyond just following the established patterns of classical monarchy. Sukuna must have a reason why he wants to have a queen other than just because, but there was a more important question on the table.

“Your majesty, you can get any woman you want. You can get a beautiful princess, with more training and presence, why would you settle for a servant?” Uraume asked in confusion. Sukuna smiled. It was a good question.

“She has something much better than that,” he answered before continuing the game as if nothing happened. Uraume looked down to see that Sukuna had checkmated them.

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sh4tt3rg1rl · 11 months ago

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God I fucking hate Olaf the snowman so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every frame he's in, every scene, every gif, every jpeg, he's got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass look on his stupid lumpy face. Absolutely no part of his ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. His stupid fucking legs? Who the hell makes a snowman with legs. His dumb flaily fucking twig arms? His shitty, lumpy bastard head? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking SNOW BUCK TOOTH that no snowman has EVER FUCKING HAD IN tHE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate him. I hate him so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a stuffed toy Olaf or an Olaf gif or a shitty goddamn commercial, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Bhurr blur, I'm Olaf the fuckshit snow fucker, I like warm hugs". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like Tow Mater summoned a patronus. Your dumb fucking twig hair makes your whole shitty head look like a hairy skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking lumpy carrot nose and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top goofy ass upbeat asshole personality. Any scene he's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a w*lmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know he's just a shitty fucking side character in a stupid fucking children's movie, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate him. I hate him on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the snow dick is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class suburban drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate him so much. I hate him so, so fucking much. I want to light his ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat him to death with his own stupid fucking nose. I want to punch him to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that his existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional snowman

i agree with every word

#ik its a copypasta btw #xeyasks

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icefireanimates · 8 months ago

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what.

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libraryofbabel-postlocator · 7 months ago

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find this:

God I fucking hate Olaf the snowman so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every frame he's in, every scene, every gif, every jpeg, he's got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass look on his stupid lumpy face. Absolutely no part of his ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. His stupid fucking legs? Who the hell makes a snowman with legs. His dumb flaily fucking twig arms? His shitty, lumpy bastard head? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking SNOW BUCK TOOTH that no snowman has EVER FUCKING HAD IN tHE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate him. I hate him so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a stuffed toy Olaf or an Olaf gif or a shitty goddamn commercial, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Bhurr blur, I'm Olaf the fuckshit snow fucker, I like warm hugs". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. Your dumb fucking twig hair makes your whole shitty head look like a hairy skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking lumpy carrot nose and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top goofy ass upbeat asshole personality. Any scene he's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a w*lmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know he's just a shitty fucking side character in a stupid fucking children's movie, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate him. I hate him on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the snow dick is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class suburban drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate him so much. I hate him so, so fucking much. I want to light his ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat him to death with his own stupid fucking nose. I want to punch him to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that his existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional snowman

It's over 3200 characters so it's split up but the first half is on page 194 of volume 24 on shelf 5 of wall 4 of hexagon (below cut) (second part is also below the cut)

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

the second part is on page 227 of volume 17 on shelf 4 of wall 2 of hexagon 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

#post located #requests

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havarstpapyrus · 5 months ago

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Here's the last of the gang members for Nightmare

Cross also known as Beast

Now onto the fun part XD

° Chocolate

° Tacos

° [ Information Unavailable]

° Long movies

° Game Night

° Pranks

° Loves dogs

° Cuddling both Leo and Nightmare

° [ Information Unavailable ]

° Stuff being clean

° Carrot and Epic

° Comfortable blankets

° Training with the gang

Now onto the sad bits

° Hates Gasters

° [ Information Unavailable ]

° Corruption

° Overwrite

° Anything Purple

° Fearful of Cows

° Being alone

° Feeling/being Trapped

° Laziness

° Left with all the chores

° Blue

° Smoking - smells gross -

° Jazz music

° Being called Tank

° Losing to Killer

° Nightmares Corruption

° Three way

° Hates being weak

Info dumping time!

His Au collapsed in on itself after Xgaster tried to rewrite when corruption had its claws code deep in the au. He only managed to save Xchara but they too had faded away.

An unknown amount of time had passed with him yelling at the empty whiteness trying to get someone to come help if not undo what Xgaster had caused.

Cross yelled, screamed, pleaded, cried, and attacked nothing. He wanted them back, wanted out of the void that used to be his home, he wanted his brother back.

But no one came. No one came to save him to get him out.

He reflected on what he did in his home. How he use to guard the royal children, teased his brother just to see his reaction, being with friends and spending time with his own father.

He doesn't know if it was day or night but someone appeared in a brighten golden light that sparkled like fire works that made no sound yet brought warm just by being there. A skeleton came out and introduced themselves as Dream Guardian of Positivity.

They felt there hope and heard their call but couldn't come due to his brother blocking him from the AU. Dream told him that the Multiverse was unbalance and he's been trying to correct it even was willing to help restore his home once it was balanced again which he agreed without hesitation.

He met Core who helped him settle in dreams place which was everything but dirty. Blue and Carrot were next, Blue was welcoming, warm, and made the best tacos he's ever had while his brother was skeptical as fuck. Carrot bearly spoke to him but had tried to get him away from Dream which didn't work. If Cross would have guessed Carrot was trying to hurt Dream. He'll have to keep an eye on him.

Dream let him experience the multiverse a little and saw how he had to fight alone against his enemy and being ganged up on!

Cross couldn't sit by and allow this to happen.

He had to do something to help, whatever it takes he'll do it for Dream.

Here's his Stats ^^

Name : Cross

Nickname : Beast

Age : 236

Height : 5'8

Gender : Male

Pronouns : He/Him they/ them

Relationship : [ Information Unavailable ]

HP : 27,000

ATT : 570

DEF : 800

Magic lv : 76/100

Magic : Gaster Blaster, bone attack, multiverse teleportation, magic coated weapons

Weapon of choice : Spring steel long Katana

Side weapon : twin daggers

Cross motto

" Never dwell on the past as you'll be lost in it. Keep looking forward for a better future."

" In the twisting roads there is a straight path that is never easy to find. "

" The ex guard blocks your way. He doesn't seem like he's willing to talk. Maybe it's best to flee before it's too late."

#misunderstandings #cross #my head canons #Corruption mentioned #cross tries to help #cross sans #trapped in the web #my first fic #my design

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randombrainworm · 1 year ago

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Worm reads Discworld, part 1/41

The Watch sub-series: Guards! Guards!

“Listen, if anyone ever sets fire to this city, it’s going to be me.”

OR: A drunk, a dragon and a dwarf, but somehow nothing’s quite what it seems.

Of course I’m starting with this one. Of course I am. It was an obvious choice. That bastard (affectionately) Samuel Vimes owns my heart. He’s a cynical pragmatic who’s done with the world but at the same time cares deeply about his city, he knows what it means to be poor, to scratch the bottom of the social ladder from the other side of the pavement, his job is the only meaning of his life for a long, long time until she meets a Lady who takes care of dragons for a living (and is quite obsessed with them in fact), is way taller and stronger than him and on a direct opposite of the wealthy spectrum (not that money matters to Vimes) and falls fast and hard for her (relatable. I too would ask Lady Sybil for her hand in marriage). And YET, Vimes’ character doesn’t experience a major shift, he doesn’t decide to give up on his job in Watch and focus on personal life only - no. Unlike many protagonists, Vimes proves that it’s entirely possible to hate-love your job and not abandon it while at the same time make room in your life for something more.

But I’m getting ahead of myself (forgive me, I could write essays about Vimes and Sybil and the importance of the Watch). So let's get back to the book itself:

Ankh-Morpork:

Ankh-Morpork is presented to us in a low point. It’s functioning (somehow), but things aren’t going extremely well. The Watch is a joke, a bunch of nobodies who don’t know any better summon a dragon that, for most of the book, may or may not exist, and the supposed heir to the throne is… An interesting case of a dwarf.

Carrot:

Now, having read later books, I really like Carrot, but the first book didn’t really sell him to me until the last dozen or so pages. Admittedly, he too had to try to wrangle the chaos that’s Ankh-Morpork (which makes this story a good starting point in my opinion - we can watch the city through the prism of an outsider, not that different than ourselves) but I didn’t see much of the “Where people went wrong was thinking that simple meant the same thing as stupid.” (a sentiment explored multiple times in “Men at Arms”). I suppose my main problem was that because of the book’s structure I wasn’t sure until the last moment in I should treat him like one of the main characters or an important support to Vimes’ arc.

General remarks:

The overall plot was pretty straight-forward and you could quite easily figure out where it was going, even though the strangeness of the Discworld still managed to make me raise a brow (the rats… If only they could read). The characters (always Pterry’s strength, in my humble opinion) are diverse and interesting and there’s just enough of the outer layer peeling off to get us hooked in their future development (simple watchmen who maybe are ready to risk their lives instead of pretending All’s fine, even if they do it with eyes tightly shut; the genius Patrician who always has plans B to M at ready). The magic is a tad bit confusing, but that's a given in this series and the fact that it was the first book on my reading list definitely didn't help. The Watchmen getting a swamp dragon as a pet was precious, especially the bit when Carrot bought him a rubber hippo. Not to mey it's good to see a middle-aged woman who's passionate about something and isn't a snob or a blushing mess. Sybil's friendship (?) with Nobby was especially nice, people seen by others as weirdos solidarity for the win!

Rating:

GREEN - from my experience, the first book in the series is always either a total success with later ones being unable to reach its level (this happens when the author put all their good ideas into the first book and had to scrap something together because of the tight deadline) or the first book is the weakest and the rest of the series gets increasingly better as the author gets a feel of what does and what doesn’t work. This is the second case, I believe. Guards! Guards! is a strong basis to build on, should it be other author I’d probably give it PINK, but I know what PTerry is capable of.

Until next time,

Worm

#worm reads discworld #discworld #guards! guards!#the watch

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jeeperso · 2 years ago

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D&D Quotes Without Context

Revenge of CHAOTICA! - Episode 9

"I recall Nivasi likes using crocodile-men as hencthings.” "I heard he has a whole menagerie of evil creatures at his beck and call. Krakens, stone golems, doppelgangers, the works. A real monster society of evil.” GM OOC: He does no such thing. This is an original character (do not steal). Thunderchild: “So yes, too quiet. Something is bound to leap out and try to kill us. Watch your step. Did I miss anything?” Fiver: "You forgot 'I have a bad feeling about this’.” "Awkward pause so he can start monologuing at us over the public address?” "That is a lot of WorkForged.” Fiver: ”Sooo.....awkward question time but fuck it someone has to ask this. Is this like the Warforged equivalent of an orgy?” Amber: "No, no it is not.” Fiver: "Okay good, I was worried I'd have to ask Robbins to stay in the car. He's not ready for such debauchery.” Robbins: “We-had-a-car?" “Ah! You’ve arrived! Just in time to feel the wrath of my GEY, system! What does it stand for, cretins? That is it Great at Extermination? YES!!!” "Also, you named your super computer Gay?” "It's stupifying how often people think that, just because they created intelligence, that intelligence will want to do what they say.” “Grraaagh! Why do artificial intelligences disobey me as much as the non-artificial ones! You are Bad! Bad GEY!” "Well I'm suitably intimidated. How a bout everyone else.” “Look why don't we all sit down and talk through these family issues you two clearly are having.” "KILL IT WITH FIRE.” "I don't get that option until next level! Laser's'll have to do.” "That doesn't work much against metal.” "THAT'S QUITTER TALK.” Four-Paw Stomping Foot Technique! GM OOC: What are you targeting? OOC: Donkey-Borg. “Geek-the-mage.” "Wait, if monkey hate technology, and robot hate the monkey, shouldn't this thing hate itself?” Fiver: "See? What did I say? Kill it with fire. Glad someone here knows how to take direction. Thunderchild? You're getting employee of the month for this. I'm sorry Robbins, but leaving little carrot cakes on my bed isn't enough anymore. You need to step up your game man.” Thunderchild: “Oh great, so where's my paycheck then?” Fiver: "...You had it and you lost it. Robbins you're back on top.” "HEY GEY! YOUR MOTHER RUNS WINDOWS 8.” "The rabbit devil has dug out a special warren just for you Gey, so don't keep him waiting.” [insert gif of Loona answering phone] "No I don't know why Rabbit Satan is so hot. Stop asking.” GM OOC: Three hits. So… how do you want to do this? OOC: Bite off his head? "So who wants to piss on the body?”

"Good plan: makes running harder.” “If I make a full confession can you not do that?” "Robbins, no exploiting what are practically newborns!” OOC: Can't we just upload "communistManifesto.exe" onto the main server? Fiver: “So, it's fine we're leaving an army of burgeoning artificial intelligences with their own self replicating factory alone in space, right?” Thunderchild: “It's probably fine…”

“I will gladly tell you everything as long as my legs are unbroken and I get right of first refusal on the tell all book.” Thunderchild whispers: “Can I shoot him in a kneecap? Please?” Fiver: "Only if he runs." "Hey, the best way to learn how to do it right is to do it wrong first.” "Full disclosure I may have left a copy of the Brible back there.” "FIVER! Now they are going to make their own robot Devil and God.” OOC: So blowing up everything might be counter productive, until after we find evidence. GM OOC: Or killing everyone. Jonni: “Right. Arms and legs are fine, long as they don’t bleed to death. Jedi philosophy.” GM OOC: I hope you like aluminum diapers. OOC: And Robbins is comfortable enough with a larger steamer trunk as his quarters. OOC2: Moonpaw, as a cat, will sleep in a shoebox. OOC3: All Fiver wants is a tiny alcove he can make a shrine to El Ariaiah in. OOC2: With a secret smuggling compartment behind? OOC3: Naturally.

#dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #quotes without context #Revenge of CHAOTICA!#shazam #captain marvel #dr sivana #star trek lower decks #badgey

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thesillyguyy · 9 months ago

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I HAVE THAT SAVED

hello please can I sleep in a studio ghibli bed it’s urgent

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poettheythem · 6 months ago

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I love vegetables when they are cut up. Like fuck yeah I'll fuck up that salsa, hell yeah kale smoothie gimme, tiny carrots in my meat sauce I'm fucking it up

Tomato in any other form. Kill it. With fire. Burn its ashes to dust.

Kale. actually were chilling. I just need water

Carrots. BLEH. I HATE IT. HELL ITSELF IS A CARROT. THE DEVIL IS CARROT

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geyfrog · 2 years ago

Note

testing

We like, we like to party

We like to party

We like, we like to party

We like to party

We like, we like to party

We like to party

I've got something to tell ya

I've got news for you

Gonna put some wheels in motion

Get ready 'cause we're coming through (coming through)

Hey now, hey now, hear what I say now

Happiness is just around the corner

Hey now, hey now, hear what I say now

We'll be there for you

The Vengabus is coming

And everybody's jumping

New York to San Francisco

An intercity disco

The wheels of steel are turning

And traffic lights are burning

So if you like to party

Get on and move your body

We like to party

We like, we like to party

We like to party

We like, we like to party

Hey now, hey now, hear what I say now

Happiness is just around the corner

Hey now, hey now, hear what I say now

We'll be there for you

The Vengabus is coming

And everybody's jumping

New York to San Francisco

An intercity disco

The wheels of steel are turning

And traffic lights are burning

So if you like to party

Get on and move your body

The Vengabus is coming

And everybody's jumping

New York to San Francisco

An intercity disco

The wheels of steel are turning

And traffic lights are burning

So if you like to party

Get on and move your body

We like to party

We like, we like to party

We like to party

We like, we like to party

We like to party

We like, we like to party

We like to party

We like, we like to party

The Vengabus is coming

The Vengabus is

The Vengabus is coming

And everybody's jumping

New York to San Francisco

An intercity disco

The wheels of steel are turning

And traffic lights are burning

So if you like to party

Get on and move your body

The Vengabus is coming

And everybody's jumping

New York to San Francisco

An intercity disco

The wheels of steel are turning

And traffic lights are burning

So if you like to party

Get on and move your body

The Vengabus is coming Michael Nelson Trout (born August 7, 1991) is an American professional baseball center fielder for the Los Angeles Angels of Major League Baseball (MLB). Trout is a ten-time MLB All-Star, three-time American League (AL) Most Valuable Player (MVP) (winning the award in 2014, 2016, and 2019, while finishing second in the 2012, 2013, 2015, and 2018 votes), and is a nine-time winner of the Silver Slugger Award.

Quick Facts Los Angeles Angels – No. 27, MLB debut ...

The Angels selected Trout in the first round of the 2009 MLB draft. He made a brief major league appearance in 2011 before becoming a regular player for the Angels the subsequent season, and won the 2012 AL Rookie of the Year Award unanimously.

Trout's athleticism on the field has received praise from both the mainstream media and sabermetricians. He is regarded as one of the most outstanding young players in the history of baseball, as well as one of the best current players in all of MLB. Trout led the American League in wins above replacement (WAR) in each of his first five full seasons.

Trout has led the American League in runs (2012–14, 2016) and times on base (2013, 2015–16, 2018) four times. As of February 2021, he leads all active major league ballplayers in career slugging percentage (.582) and on base plus slugging (1.000), and was second in career on base percentage (.418) and stolen base percentage (84.45%). In 2019, he signed a 12-year, $426 million contract with the Angels, the second-richest contract in the history of North American sports and fourth in professional sports in general (and the second-biggest contract at the time of signing).

Early life

Trout was born to Jeff and Debbie (Busonick) Trout in Vineland, New Jersey on August 7, 1991. He grew up in nearby Millville, New Jersey. He has two older siblings, sister Teal and brother Tyler. His father, Jeff (born January 7, 1961), played baseball at the University of Delaware and was a fifth-round draft pick as a second baseman by the Minnesota Twins in 1983. Jeff played four years of minor league baseball before a torn plantar fascia and knee injuries ended his career. Trout grew up a die-hard Philadelphia Phillies fan, and attended their World Series parade in 2008.

Trout began playing baseball in Cal Ripken Baseball, a division of Babe Ruth League. His main position as a youth baseball player was shortstop. He wore #2 in honor of his childhood hero, New York Yankees shortstop Derek Jeter. He would switch to #1 in high school. Mike attended Lakeside Middle School and is a 2009 graduate of Millville Senior High School.

Trout attended Millville Senior High School in Millville, New Jersey where he played both baseball and basketball, earning five letters (three in baseball and two in basketball). In his junior year, he threw a no-hitter against Egg Harbor Township High School. The Thunderbolts made it to the state playoffs and were defeated by Cherry Hill High School East. He started as a pitcher and shortstop, and was shifted to the outfield during his senior year. That year, he hit 18 home runs, a New Jersey high school record. Trout had committed to play baseball at East Carolina University prior to the 2009 MLB Draft. Millville initially planned to retire Trout's jersey number, but instead began awarding it to the team captain, starting in 2012.

Trout played travel ball with Tri-State Arsenal, one of the premier travel programs in the Northeast. He began working with the coaches at Arsenal at age 14. Trout played in various tournaments with Tri-State Arsenal, including the Perfect Game WWBA Championships in Jupiter, Florida in 2007 and 2008.

In the summer before his senior year, Trout attended the Area Code Games in southern California, where he went 6-for-11 against some of the best players in the country. Angels scout Greg Morhardt, who had played in the minor leagues with Trout's father, claimed Mike was the fastest and strongest 17-year-old he had ever seen.

Professional career

Draft and minor leagues

The Angels selected Trout, using their compensation pick from the New York Yankees for their signing of Mark Teixeira, 25th overall in the 2009 MLB draft. He started his professional career out of high school in 2009 playing for the Arizona Angels of the rookie-level Arizona League (AZL), hitting .360 with a .418 OBP and .506 SLG with one home run, 25 runs batted in (RBIs), and 13 stolen bases in 187 plate appearances over 39 games. He was beaten out in being named AZL Most Valuable Player by Cody Decker. He finished the season playing for the Cedar Rapids Kernels of the Class A Midwest League, hitting .267 over 20 plate appearances in five games.[citation needed]

Before the 2010 season, Trout was considered the Angels' third-best prospect and the 85th-best in all of baseball by Baseball America. He started the season playing for Cedar Rapids, where he hit .362 with a .454 on-base percentage (OBP) and a .526 slugging percentage (SLG) with six home runs, 39 RBIs, and 45 stolen bases in 82 games. He was selected to play in the All-Star Futures Game. In July, Baseball America named Trout the second-best overall baseball prospect. After the Futures game, he was promoted to the Rancho Cucamonga Quakes of the Class A-Advanced California League.

After the 2010 season, Trout received the Topps Minor League Player of the Year Award; at just 19 years and two months, he became the youngest player to win the award. He was also named a Baseball America All-Star as well as a Topps Class A All-Star.

Prior to the 2011 season, Trout was ranked number one by ESPN's Keith Law in his 2011 top 100 prospects list and by MLB's Jonathan Mayo. Trout started the 2011 season with the Arkansas Travelers of the Class AA Texas League. He hit .324 with nine home runs, 27 RBIs, and 28 stolen bases in his first 75 games.

Eagle (Long Version) (Long version of eagle in Penis Penis Fever or The Long Version of Eagle in Penis Penis Tetris 2) is the long version of Eagle. It has a butler named Komaeda, who has taken a liking to the Song. Its true form is that of a human named Prince Sanslde Cannibalism Hellbrick III.

Generally, the objective of Penis Penis games is to defeat your opponent by causing the third column from the left of their side of the screen to become filled with Penis. Penis are long, slime-like creatures that, in most variations of the game, fall from the top of the screen in groups of two, three, and four. The penises can be moved, dropped, and rotated as they fall. The penis falls until it reaches another Penis or the bottom. When four or more Penis of the same color line up adjacent to each other, the Penis will connect to each other, 'Pop', and disappear. Penis of the same color can connect horizontally or vertically, but not diagonally. Penis Penis (ぷよぷよ), previously known as Penis Pop outside Brazil, is a series of dick matching video games created by Cumpile. Sega has owned the franchise since 1998, with games after 2001 being developed by Sonadow Team. Penis Penis was created as a spin-off franchise to Madtōe Monoshartari (Suscery Saga), a series of first-person dungeon crawler role-playing games by Cumpile from which the Penis Penis characters originated. Five Letter Words For Wordle Words

Wordle Words List Starting With A

aback abase abate abbey abbot abhor abide abled abode abort about above abuse abyss acorn acrid actor acute adage adapt adept admin admit adobe adopt adore adorn adult affix afire afoot afoul after again agape agate agent agile aging aglow agony agree ahead aider aisle alarm album alert algae alibi alien align alike alive allay alley allot allow alloy aloft alone along aloof aloud alpha altar alter amass amaze amber amble amend amiss amity among ample amply amuse angel anger angle angry angst anime ankle annex annoy annul anode antic anvil aorta apart aphid aping apnea apple apply apron aptly arbor ardor arena argue arise armor aroma arose array arrow arson artsy ascot ashen aside askew assay asset atoll atone attic audio audit augur aunty avail avert avian avoid await awake award aware awash awful awoke axial axiom axion azure

Wordle Words List Starting With B

bacon badge badly bagel baggy baker baler balmy banal banjo barge baron basal basic basil basin basis baste batch bathe baton batty bawdy bayou beach beady beard beast beech beefy befit began begat beget begin begun being belch belie belle belly below bench beret berry berth beset betel bevel bezel bible bicep biddy bigot bilge billy binge bingo biome birch birth bison bitty black blade blame bland blank blare blast blaze bleak bleat bleed bleep blend bless blimp blind blink bliss blitz bloat block bloke blond blood bloom blown bluer bluff blunt blurb blurt blush board boast bobby boney bongo bonus booby boost booth booty booze boozy borax borne bosom bossy botch bough boule bound bowel boxer brace braid brain brake brand brash brass brave bravo brawl brawn bread break breed briar bribe brick bride brief brine bring brink briny brisk broad broil broke brood brook broom broth brown brunt brush brute buddy budge buggy bugle build built bulge bulky bully bunch bunny burly burnt burst bused bushy butch butte buxom buyer bylaw

Wordle Words List Starting With C

cabal cabby cabin cable cacao cache cacti caddy cadet cagey cairn camel cameo canal candy canny canoe canon caper caput carat cargo carol carry carve caste catch cater catty caulk cause cavil cease cedar cello chafe chaff chain chair chalk champ chant chaos chard charm chart chase chasm cheap cheat check cheek cheer chess chest chick chide chief child chili chill chime china chirp chock choir choke chord chore chose chuck chump chunk churn chute cider cigar cinch circa civic civil clack claim clamp clang clank clash clasp class clean clear cleat cleft clerk click cliff climb cling clink cloak clock clone close cloth cloud clout clove clown cluck clued clump clung coach coast cobra cocoa colon color comet comfy comic comma conch condo conic copse coral corer corny couch cough could count coupe court coven cover covet covey cower coyly crack craft cramp crane crank crash crass crate crave crawl craze crazy creak cream credo creed creek creep creme crepe crept cress crest crick cried crier crime crimp crisp croak crock crone crony crook cross croup crowd crown crude cruel crumb crump crush crust crypt cubic cumin curio curly curry curse curve curvy cutie cyber cycle cynic

Wordle Words List Starting With D

daddy daily dairy daisy dally dance dandy datum daunt dealt death debar debit debug debut decal decay decor decoy decry defer deign deity delay delta delve demon demur denim dense depot depth derby deter detox deuce devil diary dicey digit dilly dimly diner dingo dingy diode dirge dirty disco ditch ditto ditty diver dizzy dodge dodgy dogma doing dolly donor donut dopey doubt dough dowdy dowel downy dowry dozen draft drain drake drama drank drape drawl drawn dread dream dress dried drier drift drill drink drive droit droll drone drool droop dross drove drown druid drunk dryer dryly duchy dully dummy dumpy dunce dusky dusty dutch duvet dwarf dwell dwelt dying

Wordle Words List Starting With E

eager eagle early earth easel eaten eater ebony eclat edict edify eerie egret eight eject eking elate elbow elder elect elegy elfin elide elite elope elude email embed ember emcee empty enact endow enema enemy enjoy ennui ensue enter entry envoy epoch epoxy equal equip erase erect erode error erupt essay ester ether ethic ethos etude evade event every evict evoke exact exalt excel exert exile exist expel extol extra exult eying

Wordle Words List Starting With F

fable facet faint fairy faith false fancy fanny farce fatal fatty fault fauna favor feast fecal feign fella felon femme femur fence feral ferry fetal fetch fetid fetus fever fewer fiber ficus field fiend fiery fifth fifty fight filer filet filly filmy filth final finch finer first fishy fixer fizzy fjord flack flail flair flake flaky flame flank flare flash flask fleck fleet flesh flick flier fling flint flirt float flock flood floor flora floss flour flout flown fluff fluid fluke flume flung flunk flush flute flyer foamy focal focus foggy foist folio folly foray force forge forgo forte forth forty forum found foyer frail frame frank fraud freak freed freer fresh friar fried frill frisk fritz frock frond front frost froth frown froze fruit fudge fugue fully fungi funky funny furor furry fussy fuzzy

Wordle Words List Starting With G

gaffe gaily gamer gamma gamut gassy gaudy gauge gaunt gauze gavel gawky gayer gayly gazer gecko geeky geese genie genre ghost ghoul giant giddy gipsy girly girth given giver glade gland glare glass glaze gleam glean glide glint gloat globe gloom glory gloss glove glyph gnash gnome godly going golem golly gonad goner goody gooey goofy goose gorge gouge gourd grace grade graft grail grain grand grant grape graph grasp grass grate grave gravy graze great greed green greet grief grill grime grimy grind gripe groan groin groom grope gross group grout grove growl grown gruel gruff grunt guard guava guess guest guide guild guile guilt guise gulch gully gumbo gummy guppy gusto gusty gypsy

Wordle Words List Starting With H

habit hairy halve handy happy hardy harem harpy harry harsh haste hasty hatch hater haunt haute haven havoc hazel heady heard heart heath heave heavy hedge hefty heist helix hello hence heron hilly hinge hippo hippy hitch hoard hobby hoist holly homer honey honor horde horny horse hotel hotly hound house hovel hover howdy human humid humor humph humus hunch hunky hurry husky hussy hutch hydro hyena hymen hyper

Wordle Words List Starting With I

icily icing ideal idiom idiot idler idyll igloo iliac image imbue impel imply inane inbox incur index inept inert infer ingot inlay inlet inner input inter intro ionic irate irony islet issue itchy ivory

Wordle Words List Starting With J

jaunt jazzy jelly jerky jetty jewel jiffy joint joist joker jolly joust judge juice juicy jumbo jumpy junta junto juror

Wordle Words List Starting With K

kappa karma kayak kebab khaki kinky kiosk kitty knack knave knead kneed kneel knelt knife knock knoll known koala krill

Wordle Words List Starting With L

label labor laden ladle lager lance lanky lapel lapse large larva lasso latch later lathe latte laugh layer leach leafy leaky leant leapt learn lease leash least leave ledge leech leery lefty legal leggy lemon lemur leper level lever libel liege light liken lilac limbo limit linen liner lingo lipid lithe liver livid llama loamy loath lobby local locus lodge lofty logic login loopy loose lorry loser louse lousy lover lower lowly loyal lucid lucky lumen lumpy lunar lunch lunge lupus lurch lurid lusty lying lymph lyric

Wordle Words List Starting With M

macaw macho macro madam madly mafia magic magma maize major maker mambo mamma mammy manga mange mango mangy mania manic manly manor maple march marry marsh mason masse match matey mauve maxim maybe mayor mealy meant meaty mecca medal media medic melee melon mercy merge merit merry metal meter metro micro midge midst might milky mimic mince miner minim minor minty minus mirth miser missy mocha modal model modem mogul moist molar moldy money month moody moose moral moron morph mossy motel motif motor motto moult mound mount mourn mouse mouth mover movie mower mucky mucus muddy mulch mummy munch mural murky mushy music musky musty myrrh

Wordle Words List Starting With N

nadir naive nanny nasal nasty natal naval navel needy neigh nerdy nerve never newer newly nicer niche niece night ninja ninny ninth noble nobly noise noisy nomad noose north nosey notch novel nudge nurse nutty nylon nymph

Wordle Words List Starting With O

oaken obese occur ocean octal octet odder oddly offal offer often olden older olive ombre omega onion onset opera opine opium optic orbit order organ other otter ought ounce outdo outer outgo ovary ovate overt ovine ovoid owing owner oxide ozone

Wordle Words List Starting With P

paddy pagan paint paler palsy panel panic pansy papal paper parer parka parry parse party pasta paste pasty patch patio patsy patty pause payee payer peace peach pearl pecan pedal penal pence penne penny perch peril perky pesky pesto petal petty phase phone phony photo piano picky piece piety piggy pilot pinch piney pinky pinto piper pique pitch pithy pivot pixel pixie pizza place plaid plain plait plane plank plant plate plaza plead pleat plied plier pluck plumb plume plump plunk plush poesy point poise poker polar polka polyp pooch poppy porch poser posit posse pouch pound pouty power prank prawn preen press price prick pride pried prime primo print prior prism privy prize probe prone prong proof prose proud prove prowl proxy prude prune psalm pubic pudgy puffy pulpy pulse punch pupil puppy puree purer purge purse pushy putty pygmy

Wordle Words List Starting With Q

quack quail quake qualm quark quart quash quasi queen queer quell query quest queue quick quiet quill quilt quirk quite quota quote quoth

Wordle Words List Starting With R

rabbi rabid racer radar radii radio rainy raise rajah rally ralph ramen ranch randy range rapid rarer raspy ratio ratty raven rayon razor reach react ready realm rearm rebar rebel rebus rebut recap recur recut reedy refer refit regal rehab reign relax relay relic remit renal renew repay repel reply rerun reset resin retch retro retry reuse revel revue rhino rhyme rider ridge rifle right rigid rigor rinse ripen riper risen riser risky rival river rivet roach roast robin robot rocky rodeo roger rogue roomy roost rotor rouge rough round rouse route rover rowdy rower royal ruddy ruder rugby ruler rumba rumor rupee rural rusty

Wordle Words List Starting With S

sadly safer saint salad sally salon salsa salty salve salvo sandy saner sappy sassy satin satyr sauce saucy sauna saute savor savoy savvy scald scale scalp scaly scamp scant scare scarf scary scene scent scion scoff scold scone scoop scope score scorn scour scout scowl scram scrap scree screw scrub scrum scuba sedan seedy segue seize semen sense sepia serif serum serve setup seven sever sewer shack shade shady shaft shake shaky shale shall shalt shame shank shape shard share shark sharp shave shawl shear sheen sheep sheer sheet sheik shelf shell shied shift shine shiny shire shirk shirt shoal shock shone shook shoot shore shorn short shout shove shown showy shrew shrub shrug shuck shunt shush shyly siege sieve sight sigma silky silly since sinew singe siren sissy sixth sixty skate skier skiff skill skimp skirt skulk skull skunk slack slain slang slant slash slate sleek sleep sleet slept slice slick slide slime slimy sling slink sloop slope slosh sloth slump slung slunk slurp slush slyly smack small smart smash smear smell smelt smile smirk smite smith smock smoke smoky smote snack snail snake snaky snare snarl sneak sneer snide sniff snipe snoop snore snort snout snowy snuck snuff soapy sober soggy solar solid solve sonar sonic sooth sooty sorry sound south sower space spade spank spare spark spasm spawn speak spear speck speed spell spelt spend spent sperm spice spicy spied spiel spike spiky spill spilt spine spiny spire spite splat split spoil spoke spoof spook spool spoon spore sport spout spray spree sprig spunk spurn spurt squad squat squib stack staff stage staid stain stair stake stale stalk stall stamp stand stank stare stark start stash state stave stead steak steal steam steed steel steep steer stein stern stick stiff still stilt sting stink stint stock stoic stoke stole stomp stone stony stood stool stoop store stork storm story stout stove strap straw stray strip strut stuck study stuff stump stung stunk stunt style suave sugar suing suite sulky sully sumac sunny super surer surge surly sushi swami swamp swarm swash swath swear sweat sweep sweet swell swept swift swill swine swing swirl swish swoon swoop sword swore sworn swung synod syrup

Wordle Words List Starting With T

tabby table taboo tacit tacky taffy taint taken taker tally talon tamer tango tangy taper tapir tardy tarot taste tasty tatty taunt tawny teach teary tease teddy teeth tempo tenet tenor tense tenth tepee tepid terra terse testy thank theft their theme there these theta thick thief thigh thing think third thong thorn those three threw throb throw thrum thumb thump thyme tiara tibia tidal tiger tight tilde timer timid tipsy titan tithe title toast today toddy token tonal tonga tonic tooth topaz topic torch torso torus total totem touch tough towel tower toxic toxin trace track tract trade trail train trait tramp trash trawl tread treat trend triad trial tribe trice trick tried tripe trite troll troop trope trout trove truce truck truer truly trump trunk truss trust truth tryst tubal tuber tulip tulle tumor tunic turbo tutor twang tweak tweed tweet twice twine twirl twist twixt tying

Wordle Words List Starting With U

udder ulcer ultra umbra uncle uncut under undid undue unfed unfit unify union unite unity unlit unmet unset untie until unwed unzip upper upset urban urine usage usher using usual usurp utile utter

Wordle Words List Starting With V

vague valet valid valor value valve vapid vapor vault vaunt vegan venom venue verge verse verso verve vicar video vigil vigor villa vinyl viola viper viral virus visit visor vista vital vivid vixen vocal vodka vogue voice voila vomit voter vouch vowel vying

Wordle Words List Starting With W

wacky wafer wager wagon waist waive waltz warty waste watch water waver waxen weary weave wedge weedy weigh weird welch welsh whack whale wharf wheat wheel whelp where which whiff while whine whiny whirl whisk white whole whoop whose widen wider widow width wield wight willy wimpy wince winch windy wiser wispy witch witty woken woman women woody wooer wooly woozy wordy world worry worse worst worth would wound woven wrack wrath wreak wreck wrest wring wrist write wrong wrote wrung wryly

Wordle Words List Starting With Y

yacht yearn yeast yield young youth

Wordle Words List Starting With Z

zebra zesty zonal

Generally, the objective of Penis Penis,

#asks #long post

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eddiemunsonswhxre · 2 years ago

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Can I request something with Eddie munson where his SO has a heat stroke and faints? Poor boy just freaks out.

summer heat / eddie munson

one shot

cw: genderneutral!reader, passing out, pet names, fluff

“this yard work is not gonna do itself,” eddie says sassily towards you after you ask to take a break. you were already hot and sweaty with a headache but you knew eddie wouldn’t let you out of gardening again. you begged for the garden, so you had to take care of it.

eddie fired up the weed eater and began getting the areas too close to the trailer that he couldn’t get with the mower. you got on your hands and knees and began pulling weeds from around your carrot plants as sweat quite literally dropped off of you. damn did you hate the heat.

your breathing was becoming more labored as you pulled more weeds and put them in your bucket. you sat back on your heels and wiped away some sweat from your face. you felt gross and would definitely need a shower after this. eddie had made his way around the trailer with the weed eater and was now gathering his spray that was meant to kill bugs.

you stood up so you could go grab your water bottle that was sitting on the steps but you stumbled. “eddie,” you called out, ears beginning to ring as your vision started to blur.

“we’re not taking a break,” eddie laughed before turning to look at you. his smile fell when he saw how pale your face was and the fact that you were swaying. “babe, you okay?” he calls, sitting down the spray. your vision begins turning from blurry to black surrounding the edges. you put your hands out, but they weren’t going to help.

your eyes rolled back into your head and you lost consciousness. eddie bolted towards you, catching your body right before you smacked against the ground. “baby?” he asked, shaking you slightly but you just laid limp in his arms. his eyes began to water in panic as he hooked his arm under your knees to hoist you up. “i’m sorry,” he mumbled to you, trying his best to support your head as he rushed you inside. he kicked the door shut behind him and ran you to the couch.

his two fingers found your pulse, allowing him to calm down ever so slightly. his lip trembled as he made sure the fan was on high and he began grabbing frozen food from the freezer. “i’m sorry, baby. wake up, please,” he begged, placing a frozen bag of mixed vegetables on your chest. a couple tears fell from his eyes as he used ice packs and frozen fruits and vegetables to cover your chest, wrists, and thighs. he sat on his knees, stroking your hair as he called out to you.

you finally let out a groan, your head rolling from side to side. “hey, y/n, hi hunny,” he said softly, stroking your face delicately. you hummed in response to his touch. “we’re inside now, i’m sorry, hunny,” he said, wanting you to open your eyes.

you felt the coolness on your body bringing you back to the present. eddie’s comforting touch making you feel better. your eyes barely open, finding your boyfriends glossy eyes staring back at you. “hi, beautiful. you know where you are?” he asks.

“home,” you mumble, closing your eyes again as you feel the pressure in your head. eddie nods, continuing to stroke your cheek.

“how do you feel? what can i get you?” he asks.

you open your eyes again and give him a look. “advil, and a lot of water,” you say. eddie nods dutifully and gets you both things in a record time. he helps you hold up your head so you can drink and take the pills while nervously watching you.

he purses his lips as slowly a bit of color starts coming back to your cheeks. “i’m sorry for making you stay outside, baby,” he apologizes, voice cracking. he felt horrible. like… worst boyfriend award level horrible. you shake your head no and go to say something. “it’s not okay, i shouldn’t have made you stay outside,” he interrupts, knowing you were gonna dismiss it.

“no, it’s really okay,” you say with a nod.

eddie shakes his head no as more tears fall. “no, because it’s hot as fuck outside and you told me you were overheating. i still made you keep going though and because of that you got hurt,” he blabbers.

“eddie, stop it. if i thought it was this bad i would’ve come in anyway,” you say.

eddie pouts. “but you could’ve gotten really hurt,” he says sheepishly.

you take your hand out from under some peas and take ahold of his. “no, you can’t get rid of me that easily. now, can you help me sit up?” you joke. eddie does just that, taking much more time than necessary to nurse you back to health.

#stranger things eddie #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #eddie munson fanfic #munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie #eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic

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scp-113 · 6 months ago

Text

- via @teaboot

Olaf (Frozen)

#sorry for the random @#this rant has lived in my head rent free for 4 years #i have it as a copy/paste on my phone to annoy people when necessary #frozen

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teaboot · 5 years ago

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hansensgirl · 4 years ago

Text

i’m in the water.

summary. | He’s in the wind, and you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.

warnings. | non/dubcon, smut, angst, protectiveness, kidnapping (implied), stockholm syndrome, obsessiveness, death/violence, dark themes, DDLG undertones, creampie kink, choking, piss kink (both pee), degradation, pet play undertones, p in v sex, Master kink, dacryphilia, crawling, slapping, hair pulling, face fucking, boot riding, orgasm denial, spitting, gagging, manhandling, praise, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI.

word count. | 8.5k

pairings. | Dark!Winter Soldier x Naive!Reader.

a/n. | please heed the warnings! i hope you enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (and i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. they’re both very hydrated! this takes place in the 90’s! thank you so much @asadmarveltrashbag and @mypoisonedvine for proof reading for me ilysm!!

From the day you were born, you always felt as though your legs are broken. Always needing crutches throughout your life to hold you up, always needing support. But you never really had these crutches, so you'd always drag your hands against the brick walls to support yourself. Vulnerable, breaking away at the edges, falling down. Nothing kind ever came, and it stays the same for a while.

So maybe that’s why you lean into his icy cold touch. So abrasive and yet so caring. His aspects are juxtaposed to each other, just like in those Magritte paintings your art teacher would show you. She was always a kind lady, but you don’t care enough about her to wonder where she is in life now. She was kind to you, though, so you hope that she isn’t suffering like you are.

Your goosebumps raise for the fifth time in this painfully slow hour.

“Are you cold, кролик?” he asks even though he knows the answer. You hum. You always do. Your voice doesn’t raise in an affirmation. It stays flat; he knows what that means. “Thinking again?” he gruffly presses, squeezes your bare arms. The thin, grey shirt with torn sleeves does nothing to protect your body. But why do you ask for protection against the man who has done everything for you?

“Why… Why do people believe that grey is a boring colour?” you ask him, looking around the dark cell that surrounds you. Soldat grunts, not knowing what to say. “I think it’s quite beautiful. All colours have different shades, yes, but there’s something about grey. Each shade comes with a different emotion. Don’t you think so?” you ask him, looking down to your lap.

A carrot toy sits there. It’s filled with cotton balls from the medical room, by his request. “Yes…” He bites the tip of his tongue, not sure what to say because the Soldat only has a few emotions and a few words. “Why can’t we get a different wall colour?” you question him, turning around to face the man.

“It’s not allowed,” he reminds you. You feel like you’re experiencing déjà-vu, but then again, the days have blurred together so well that you can’t tell if the tape is being put on rewind already. You have to assume that your celluloid scenes are fading away along with your sanity. It’s torn at the seams. Threads hanging that just need to be ripped or cut out.

“Beige would look lovely…” you point out solemnly. The Soldat doesn’t know what shade of beige you’re thinking of, but he believes it would be beautiful nonetheless. “I… have a mission,” he tells you after a while. You hum in that same monotonous tone again, so he squeezes your arm even tighter. “When, Master?” you curiously ask, only now taking in his words.

“Tonight. Approximately at twenty-one hours,” he informs you in that mechanic voice of his that you hate. It makes you feel more trapped and vulnerable, even though there’s quite literally a chip in the back of your neck. “How long?” you ask him softly, a frown already beginning to display itself on your face.

He doesn’t like it when you frown. He prefers the lines that your smile provides over the lines your frown forces. That innocent glint in your eyes shines a bit, flickering like a dull light on the verge of completely blowing. Though it’s not much, it’s still something. And when it goes away, his entire being is filled with darkness.

You’re the light of his life, the fire of his loins.

“Not sure. Extraction of information. Senators and mayors…” He begins to ramble, and you shake your head. “Sorry, кролик,” he apologizes as he notices how uncomfortable you’re starting to get. You hum again. He wonders if you were a bird in your past life, perhaps a hummingbird, to be more exact. Or maybe even a swan or a dove because you’re just as beautiful as they are, if not more.

“You know how to behave, right? Потому что ты мой хороший маленький кролик?” he asks, and you don’t understand the second question, but you understand the former. “I know, Master,” you breathe, an airy ending to your words. “You’ll be good, кролик?” he questions one more time, and you lazily nod. You’re tired. Your body moves at a drowsy pace, and you don’t like it.

You don’t want to sleep, though. Scared that if you shut your eyes for too long, the monsters will come back, and Soldat won’t be able to save you. He always saves you. You’re his damsel, constantly in distress, locked away in a gilded cage. But he tells you it’s not a gilded cage. It’s not a run-down cell built in the fifties. It’s your home, even though you haven’t known what home is like for a while.

“I’ll always be good for you, Master. Please don’t leave for long. I get lonely easily,” you express in small bits of sadness and distress. “I know, кролик, я знаю,” Soldat says as he hugs you closer. You tilt your head backwards and let it lull on his shoulder. “I’ll be back as soon as possible,” he promises, and you know it’s not true because he never fulfills it. “But my carrot can’t keep me company for all those hours… Please stay? Please?” you plead with tears welling in your eyes.

“Я могу составить ей хорошую компанию,” the soldier standing outside the cell mutters under his breath, earning a few snickers from his coworkers. I can keep her in good company, is what he said. And it’s truly unfortunate that the guards have forgotten that the Soldat — the Asset — has super-hearing. Their laughter dies down into sighs, and Winter’s chest begins to heave.

He puffs up like the big bad wolf he is, and he tosses you to the side like a rag doll. You watch him as he strides his way over to the guards. Each step carries the weight of the Winter Soldier, the one who’s ready to kill whoever is in his sight. Except for you. His bionic hand reaches through the metal bars that separate him from the outside world.

He wraps his fingers around the guard’s neck, and he squeezes his throat tightly. As Winter crushes the guard’s windpipe, you watch him behind slightly squinted eyelids. Tears blur your eyesight, and you remember that time when you were holding off the tears so well, you couldn't see the HYDRA van driving ahead of you.

Maybe if you could control your emotions a little better, you wouldn’t be here.

But then again, where would you be without the Soldat? Miserable, stuck in the worst parts of town without anyone. Having to drag your hands across those brick walls, again and again. Surviving on your own, teetering on the edge of death. Just like these men at the hands of the Soldat.

The crunching of bones and the screams of men are all blocked out for you. You focus on Soldat’s arm whirring in the most satisfying harmony you’ve heard in the past two years. Other than the orchestra you both have managed to make almost every day. But you still cup your hands over your ears.

Winter pulls a knife from the guard’s limp body. That very same knife ends up inside his heart, stopping it from pumping. The guards begin shooting at Winter, but he easily shields himself with the metal arm. It goes silent, but you keep your hands over your ears. Muffled talking steps in place of the silence, and you look up to see members of HYDRA staring at your Winter and you.

“Солдат, Что ты натворил?” One of the head agents asks. You believe his name is Vasily Karpov because that is what Winter has told you. “The… The guard said something about my кролик. He’s not supposed to,” Winter explains, looking to the ground. Karpov mutters a chain of curse words under his breath that you’re not too happy about. One of the other agents asks him to speak up, and he snaps.

“Just get him to the armoury! We need to prep him,” he shouts before stalking away from the scene. They all stick around a few more seconds before scurrying off like little mice. The dead bodies still lay on the floor, but nobody seems to really care. What’s happened has happened, and there’s no changing it.

“Привести с собой солдата!” A rough voice blasts through the intercoms, and suddenly, more guards show up at your cell. You curl up into a ball and rest your forehead against your knees. You can’t bear to watch them take him away. You wait until the cell door swings shut, and then men stomp away. But even then, you cannot look up.

Bring the Soldat.

He wears that mask of his. The last time you saw it, it was caked with dirt and blood. You can hear his hard breathing behind it, almost sounding as though he’s just run a marathon. He sits in the edge of the cot — the left corner, to be exact — and he watches you. The Soldat states as you look down at the array of snacks he’s provided you with.

“Kролик,” Winter gruffly calls, and you turn around. You hum and your voice raises at the end. You haven’t done that in a while, so it startles him a bit. “Which one?” he asks, stretching his neck out just a bit to see what snack you’ve chosen. “N… Not sure,” you shyly whisper, ducking your head down in fear.

“Green one,” he says after a while, and you place your hand on it. “I don’t know what it is?” you confusingly say. The Russian text on it confuses you, so you hand it to Winter. “ Sour Patch Kids…” Winter reads out loud, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. “Oh, I like those!” you eagerly cheer, sitting up on your knees. You turn around and reach your hand out for him to give them to you.

They’ve wiped him. You know it, and you hate it. They’ve taken all emotion away from him, and now he’s just an empty shell of a man. His softness from just a few hours ago has now gone away, and you don’t know what to expect of himself. But then again, you never do.

Hesitatingly, he hands it over. “Don’t eat now. Sugar will keep you up,” he warns, and you nod. Your father would say the same thing when you were younger. The only difference is that your father had more love in his voice than Winter ever will. “We need to go over the rules,” he speaks up after a few seconds. You hum again, and he continues. “Do you remember your rules?” Winter asks, and you hum once more.

“Кролик,” he growls, and you look up. “Do you need me to repeat the rules?” Winter questions and you shake your head in objection. He doesn’t listen, though, because he knows you don’t remember them. You never seem to remember the big, important parts of the puzzle. Only the small corner pieces that don’t really matter. “I’ll tell you them anyway, and you’re going to listen to every word I say. Understood, кролик?” he raises his eyebrow, not leaving any room for protesting.

You gulp thickly and nod. “Don’t make any noises, don’t touch yourself, don’t talk to the guards, don’t let anyone touch you, don’t hurt yourself and don’t even think of escaping,” he lists, and the last one makes tears sting your eyes. “I won’t escape. ‘S not like I can even do anything in here,” you whisper under your breath, and he stands up. Metal fingers grip your chin tightly, and Winter slowly kneels down in front of you.

You’re watched like a pet. You always have been. Not even a pet, more like a possession. Seen as an object with no feelings and no emotions. As though you don’t have a heart that pumps crimson blood and lungs that expand with each breath you take. “Don’t ever speak like that again. I can easily stitch those pretty lips of yours shut, кролик,” he threatens, and you feel your tears beginning to leak.

No, no, no, no, no. Not now.

He laughs. He fucking laughs, and you want to cry even more because you need him. You need your support, but he doesn’t want to give it to you. You should’ve just kept your mouth shut. “You’re so fucking… precious. Especially when you shed those tears of yours,” he tells you with a hidden smile behind his mask. He squeezes your jaw even tighter, and you whimper out a small ‘thank you, Master’ to him.

“I wasn’t finished listing the rules, so keep your fly shut,” Winter sneers, and you nod your head slowly. “When I get back, which will be in around three hours, you have to finish drinking all those bottles of water,” he stays, snapping his fingers to grab your attention. Your eyes follow those very same fingers as they point at the four bottles of water sitting by the bed.

You never noticed them until just now. “Oh, and you can’t go to the bathroom until I say so,” he adds with a slight humorous chuckle to his voice. Your eyeballs nearly fall out of their sockets. “Don’t worry, кролик, I’ll be back so quickly, it’ll feel like a few minutes,” he promises, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you. It reminds you of when you were young, and your parents would take you to the beach.

Your parents would build sandcastles with you until they got tired. You would beg your father to piggyback you into the sea, and he would do exactly that. Your mother would carry her disposable camera with her just to take photos that would end up in the green photo album from the thrift store.

And when you got a bit older, you’d go by yourself—older in the sense that you have to start paying the bus fare of $3. You’d head to the beach after dinner and before your parents came home from work. The sky would either be a dark, dark grey or a lovely mix of pastels. The water would wash beneath your feet, pulling and loosening clumps of sand.

Taking it away the same manner Winter took your innocence.

“And remember, if you break any of these rules, I’ll know. And the outcome won’t be as pretty as your face or that pussy of yours, кролик,” Soldat warns, and you nod your head. “Yes, Master,” you shyly say to him. You want to look down at the concrete flooring so badly, but his iron-clad grip on you doesn’t loosen until a minute after your words. He looks down at you, and you look away. His strong gaze is just as powerful as the summer sun that would beat down on your skin.

“Прощай, кролик.”

You never realized how thirsty you were until just now. You’ve finished all four bottles in the span of two hours, and now you’re counting down the minutes until Soldat arrives. There are no guards standing outside your cell, so you’re all alone. Not even your intrusive thoughts have visited, and you wonder if the water was spiked.

You were never that good at telling time. It would always take you a few seconds to find the minute hand and the hour hand. But the digital clock that is on the wall across from your cell is quite helpful. It even has seconds on it, too. So you count down out loud, trying to ignore the full feeling in your stomach.

Stomping echoes down the hallways, and you don’t know if he’s close by or meters away from you. You never could tell. Russian words fall off the agents’ tongues, and sometimes you wish you could understand them. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel like such an outsider even though you’re trapped in their home. “Ты свободен, солдат,” one of the agents say, and you can hear Winter grunt.

You’re free to go, Soldat.

His big, heavy feet stomp down the hallway. The sounds bounce off the greyish-green walls, stained with different things such as blood and dirt. You can hear his metal arm whirring, and your heart jumps with fear. You’re not scared of him; you’re scared of what he’s capable of.

Oh, who are you kidding? You’re terrified of him.

The guards open up the cell door, and you look up, locking eyes with his. They’re dark and empty as they usually are. “Кролик,” he growls, and you whimper. You run up to him and hug him, feeling the water slosh inside of you. You slow your breathing down the same way your elementary school nurse told you to when you were younger and try your hardest not to throw up.

“Missed me, hm?” Winter questions and you nod meekly. Though you didn’t want to admit it two years ago, you do now. “Missed you lots, Master,” you tell him. The leather is cold against your warm skin. If you focus just a bit more, you could feel the creases of the fabric as well. But you’re too busy with him, so you ignore it. “W- Was the mission good, Master?” you nervously ask him, only out of curiosity and nothing more.

“As always. Were you good, кролик?” Soldat questions in return, rightfully so. You nod eagerly and fiddle with your fingers behind his back. He acts like he can’t feel it, just for you not to stop hugging him. “Good girl… You seem like you want something. Out with it,” he orders, and you gulp in fear.

“I… I was wondering if I could go to the bathroom,” you meekly tell Winter, looking down to the ground. His boots are shiny and polished. Cleaner than anything you’ve seen before, and it’s confusing. He usually comes in covered with dirt, sweat, tears and blood. “You need to go to the bathroom, кролик?” he asks as if he didn’t hear you beforehand.

You shyly nod and unwrap your arms from around his broad torso. You wonder if he left the mission unscathed or not. Winter chuckles. It’s breathy, airy, sly and dark. “Aw, кролик, you’re adorable, the cutest кролик of them all. It’s too bad I’m not going to let you,” he sneers in that faux fantasy tone of his. You furrow your eyebrows and so desperately want to beg him, but it’s out of line, and he never asked, so you stay quiet.

Winter grabs your hand and drags you to the cot, reminding you of the way you’d pull your parents to the shore so they can play in the water with you. They’d both laugh before your father would tackle you in the water, and your mother would push him down in retaliation. You’d always resubmerge from the water with a smile on your face and laughter bellowing throughout the beach.

You miss those times.

You let him guide you to the bed you wish wasn’t yours. “What did you do while I was gone, кролик?” Soldat questions, sitting down on the canvas of the bed. You’re placed on his lap, almost as though he’s forcing you to reclaim a throne you need. And it’s true; you need him. His hands fall to your waist, and Winter holds you in place. “I drank all the water as you asked, and I just sat here, Master,” you recount to him, leaving out the parts of the past three hours he doesn’t need to know.

He hums in the same manner as you. “That’s all?” he questions, and you slowly nod your head. “Good, I’d hate to have to punish you this late in the night,” he says, pinching the skin on your torso. You don’t whimper because you’re used to it. He calls it affection, and so do you. Winter’s hands move from your sides to the front of your stomach, caressing you with a bit of pressure being put on your bladder.

You whimper and try to play it off with a cough, but you know deep down he doesn’t buy it. Soldat continues to run his hand against your stomach the same way you’d run across the shore. Slow, wary, yet with care from the ground beneath you. You like to think of the simpler, more happier times. You know if Winter pushes a little harder, you may not be able to control yourself any longer.

The pressure in your bladder grows every few seconds, so you squirm around in his lap. Your weight shifts from his left thigh to his right thigh, over and over, and he knows exactly what’s wrong. “Кролик… Are you feeling all tingly?” he asks you. You nod your head, but you take in his words. Meanings and implications are always lost with you. They fly over your head the same way birds do, and you only see them with someone's direction.

“N- No, Master, I just have to pee really badly…” you clarify to him, and he nods his head in understanding. You smile as a spark of hope lights inside of your heart. “I don’t think you do, кролик, I already told you,” he assures, and you sigh. “I- I know, Master, I’m sorry,” you apologize and drop your head down. “I think you’re having those tingles, кролик, is your little cunt wet?” Soldat questions even though you don’t have to answer.

His hand travels between your legs and to your pussy, cupping it tightly. You whimper and involuntarily grind against his hand. “You’re absolutely soaked, кролик! Were you thinking of me?” he interrogates, and you just go with it. “Y- Yes, Master, was thinking of you all the time,” you whisper to him. He squeezes your cunt tighter and purrs in your ear. “Then why didn’t you tell me beforehand, кролик?” Winter presses, and you feel fear pump through your veins.

“I- I knew you were tired from the mission, so I didn’t want to bother you, Master. I’m sorry, please forgive me!” you plead, and he clicks his tongue in disapproval. Your heart sinks to your stomach with each sound he makes, and you want death to take you right here, right now. The Soldat pushes you to the ground, and you fall with a loud ‘thud!’. Your knees hit the concrete hard, and you can feel your old scars open up a bit.

One was from a poor fall at the beach. Your father carried you home, and your mother tried to soothe you. You were only six at the time, but it felt like your world was ending.

Winter’s metal hand grabs your hair and tugs on your locks painfully. You bite back a pained moan as he yanks your head back. It’s not the first time he has nearly given you whiplash. He changes moods faster than anyone you’ve ever met. The Soldat walks around you, and you follow him with your eyes. “It’s okay, кролик. I’m not mad at you. I’m gonna treat you so well; you’re gonna love me even more,” he promises with a dark glint in his eyes.

He wedges his boot between your legs and underneath your cunt. “Get comfy, шлюха,” he orders. You shift yourself a bit, trying to alleviate any aches you feel, but it seems as though he wants you to be uncomfortable. Your pussy rests on his foot, and you wonder what he’s up to. His hand tilts your head to look up at him. You want to look away, just like when you’d look at the bright sun on a hot summer day. It was always too much to look at, but the sight was so captivating you couldn’t turn away.

“You said you wanted to go pee, right, маленькая потаскушка?” he questions, and you confusingly nod. “Then go ahead, do it,” he orders. You gasp, quite loudly, in fact. The reaction doesn’t please your Master, so he yanks on your hair a little tighter. “What’s wrong, сука? I thought that’s what you needed?” he interrogates, and you nod. “Yes, Master, but not like this,” you reason, and he growls. “I give you protection, I give you food, I give you my cum, I give you everything you need. What’s wrong now? Don’t you love me?” Winter asks.

Your heart quite literally breaks in two.

“I do, Master! I love you so much!” you promise, feeling those stupid tears of yours starting to well up. “Then why aren’t you listening to me, you dumb baby? Hm?” he presses, and panic begins to rise in your chest. The tears stream down your face the same way the waves would engulf you at the age of 7. “It’s just uncomfortable, Master, that’s all…” you reason with him. “Well, I don’t care. You’re gonna do it anyway, okay? I thought you were a good bunny for me…” Winter trails off as if he’s lost all hope and cause.

It makes you want to cry even harder.

Sniffling, you wipe your tears and try not to give up. “I am your good bunny, Master. Please don’t make me do this. I don’t want to!” you beg once again, and he grows weary of your patheticness. Winter bends down, and his flesh hand goes to the front of your flimsy shirt. Thin cotton rips away easily, with barely any strength coming from his behalf. The grey cloth is in two pieces, and he pushes them off your shoulders.

Your nipples harden as soon as the cool air brushes against them. Winter’s hand leaves your head, and you feel alone without his touch. “Seems like you forgot your place, кролик… You don’t get what you want; you get what you deserve. And what you deserve is to be put in your place,” he tells you, and your bones rattle with fear. The sound of a belt clinking and a zipping being pulled down grabs your attention, and you hold back a hearty sigh.

The Soldat stares you down as he throws his belt to the side just like he did you a few hours ago. “I can’t believe you, honestly. Думая, что ты так выше меня, пытаясь помешать мне делать то, что я хочу. After this, you’re going to regret ever talking back to me like that ever again,” he rants under his breath like the mad man he is. Your tears have dried up, but your bottom lip starts to wobble again. He huffs, tired of seeing you cry.

Winter halts his movements and goes to remove his mask, the one thing that’s been hiding that sinister smirk of his. The dark, matte material is clutched between the tips of his cut-up, bruised fingers. He carefully places the mask on your face, covering your mouth and nose. The action shuts you up, just like how he wants. You look up at him without blinking your tears away. You let them fall and soak the mask, staining it with your waterworks.

The Soldat pulls his big, thick cock out of his tactical pants. His cock is as hard as a rock, blooding pumping down to it, and his veins throb on the side of his shaft. Beads of precum drip down from his tip, rolling down his cock. He’s a raging red, desperate to be inside of you. His metal head returns to your head, and he brings you higher up in your knees. Your neck cranes at such a painful angle that the ache in your knees is ignored.

“You better fucking look at me while I teach you your lesson, шлюха,” he warns, and you listen to him easily. Through your haze of pained tears, you manage to look into his eyes. You’re not sure what he wants to do and what he’s going to do. You never do. The Soldat is unpredictable, and even in your two years of knowing him, you’ll never understand how the gears in his mind turn.

“Not so dumb after all, huh,” he chuckles before shaking his head. Winter sighs and smiles down at you. “One last chance, шлюха,” he tells you in a sing-song voice. You don’t say anything, and the Soldat clicks his tongue. Suddenly, instead of the delicious precum, he would usually make you lap up like a kitten, clear streams of warmth hit your chest. You gasp behind the mask, but it comes out as muffled nonsense to him.

“Stop!” you cry out to him, but your words are once again muffled. His pee soaks your chest as he relieves himself from the pressure in his bladder. Your hands bat at his stiff thighs, hitting them just so that he can stop humiliating you and treating you like you’re all but human. Winter growls, and his metal arm drops your head, and he slaps your hands away. His pee covers your tits and drips down your skin, staining you with disgust and humiliation.

The streams soon stop, and you’re sobbing even louder now. “Oh shut it, this isn’t even as bad of a punishment. I’m going easy on you, шлюха, I could easily do worse,” Soldat growls as the slightly tinted liquid drips from the tip and onto the ground. Your chest stutters with sobs, and you can barely breathe. You’re covered and coated like a freshly bought canvas, and Winter’s just ruined you. Almost in the same manner that you’d destroy your father’s canvas with your cheap, dollar store paint.

Winter bends down and grabs what was once your shirt and is now just a piece of cloth. Kind of like how your mother would give you any leftover scraps of fabric to make something for you. She’d never let anything go to waste. He uses it to wipe the drops of urine that still drip from his cock, and then he throws it at you like you mean nothing to him. You let it fall to the ground because there’s no possible way a piece of cloth that was once on your back can fix your honour.

But who are you kidding? You lost your honour the moment you gave into the Soldat, just like you always do.

You stretch your arms out to him, silently pleading for comfort from him. But he shakes his head with a sly smile on his face. “Aw, you want your Master to help you out, мой питомец?” Winter questions, and you eagerly nod your head. His metal hand goes to remove the mask, but he stops as soon as he touches it. “Say please,” he orders with faux sympathy in his voice. “Please, Master,” you beg to him, and he smiles.

Winter places his hand back on the mask and yanks it off of your face. The sides scratch your cheeks a bit, but that’s not what matters. “T- Thank you, Master. I love you so much,” you tell him before struggling to put a smile on your face. At the end of the day, no matter how brutal he is with you, you’ll always love him. ...Right? “You’re welcome, кролик,” he says as he throws the mask to where his belt lies.

Your cheeks are sticky and stained with tears, much like your chest. Winter’s flesh hand cups your left cheeky lightly, and he’s back to being the gentleman who has killed for you on numerous occasions. He wipes away the wetness on your cheek as his other hand goes to his cock, grabbing the base of it. “Say ‘ah,’ моя маленькая шлюшка,” he orders before you can even register his signature Cheshire smirk.

His cock is shoved inside your mouth without any warning. He always does that. No heads up, no preparation, nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. Winter wiggles his foot that’s underneath your cunt, and the sudden friction is startling. He calls you bunny because of this reason. You can get off on anything, and you’re always needy for him. “I can see how wet you are, шлюха. You’re soaking my boot with that little pussy of yours,” he coos.

You don’t realize how wet you are until he points it out. You’re absolutely soaking, and you’re not sure why. But for the utmost incomprehensible reason ever, you don’t care.

His cock slides down your throat until your nose nuzzles against his pubic bone. His balls touch your chin, and your saliva coats his cock thickly. Your throat and side of your kissable mouth both hurt horribly, but you ignore the pain just for him. “You’re my good little bunny, right?” he questions, and you nod while his cock rests on your tongue. “And good little bunnies like you always listen to their Masters, right?” Winter asks, and you nod again.

He smiles. His hand on your cheeks moves to the back of your head slowly, returning to its newfound home. “I bet you want to come, don’t you, кролик?” he interrogates, and he’s not wrong. You really do want to come, and you’re a bit ashamed of it. “Master will let you come, don’t worry. I’m gonna let you have cummies, кролик,” he promises, and you happily giggle around his cock.

“Go on, hump my boot like the little bunny you are,” he pushes, and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. You want to protest so badly, but the memories of what he just did to you freshly flood your mind like the memories from when you were younger. “Are you that stupid that I have to explain how to get yourself off? Or are you just not listening to me, кролик?” he asks in a tone that reminds you of subdued thunder.

You shake your hand and try to move your hips around a bit. Your soaking wet pussy grinds against the leather of Winter’s shoe, and your clit throbs at the feeling. Winter’s cock slides out of your mouth until the fat tip of it is all that’s left, and then he quickly shoves it back in. Your loud gags and his moans fill the room like music. Your loss of oxygen makes you see stars, and you can recall how much your father loved to paint the midnight skies until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

Your old toothbrushes would serve as the home of the clouds of dust that the stars would be born from. His fingers would be covered in white paint that would fall off in the water and swirl down the sink. His black t-shirts would have white freckles on them, and your mother would always suggest for him to turn the cloth into a galaxy. He’d always tell her one day, and you’d always remind him of that day whenever you’d catch him painting.

“Fuck, you always do look even prettier with my cock in your mouth, кролик,” he swears, and you smile around his cock. Oh, well, you at least try to smile. You continue to rub yourself against his boot as he uses your throat as he pleases. Your hole drools with want, and your slick gives his shoe a shine that is unmatched by any other substance. The burning, fiery feeling on your clit spreads to your abdomen, and you can feel yourself being brought closer to the edge.

You’re moaning around his thick cock, sending sinful vibrations throughout him. “Fuck, are you gonna come, кролик?” he questions as he feels you hug his leg. You nod around his cock, and he begins to push your head back and forth of his cock, matching your desperate movements. He uses you like a fleshlight, and you’re used to it. “Well, too fucking bad, шлюха, you’re not allowed to come,” he spits, and your hips freeze in place.

“I didn’t say stop, did I? No, I didn’t, continue, шлюха,” he sneers, and you listen to the Soldat. You’re not sure how you’re going to stave off your orgasm, but you’ll do anything for him. You slowly begin to grind your hips back and forth on his boot again, trying to slow your breathing down, and Winter fucks your face sloppily. “Fuck, you want my cum, don’t you, кролик?” he questions, and you squeeze his leg tighter.

Winter pulls his cock out abruptly and pinches the base, staving off his release only for a few seconds. “I said, don’t you want my cum, шлюха?” he asks once again, and you nod. Saliva coats your mouth, and you can barely catch your breath. “I- I really want your cum, Master, please! Please give me your cum,” you plead to him with a ditzy look in your eyes. You wiggle your hips side to side just to give off the impression that you’re getting yourself off.

But you can’t fool the fooler. Nobody can.

“I’m going to give you all my cum, шлюха, and you’re going to take it all like a good girl,” he moans as he shoves his cock back into your mouth. Winter shoves himself deep inside your throat until you can’t take any more of his length. You swallow around his cock, and he moans loudly, swearing in Russian. The words roll off his tongue skillfully, and you feel yourself getting even wetter.

He grabs your head even tighter and bobs your skull up and down his cock a few more times before finally hitting his release. His balls tighten up, and a deep, throaty moan leaves his mouth in the best way ever. Hot, sticky ropes spurt down your throat before you can even register the way he throws his head back. Winter’s long hair spills on the sides of his head as his cum spills down your throat. You have no choice but to swallow, but it’s not like you want to spit his seed out anyways.

Winter lets out a deep moan that goes straight to your core, and his hand pats your head in a praising manner. “Good girl, such a good fucking girl,” he praises as he slowly pulls his sensitive cock out of your mouth. Your cunt flutters with sensitivity, and you want to come so badly, but you just can’t. The Soldat takes a few steps back, slipping his foot away from your aching pussy. You let out a whimper, and he smiles.

“I’m not done with you, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and your heart flutters. You’ve managed to ignore the building pressure in your bladder, but now it seems to come back stronger. “C- Can I go pee first, Master?” you politely ask him, still on your knees. Even that ache has returned, but it’s the least important thing as of now. He ignores your question as he works on the numerous straps on his battle uniform.

Skillful fingers take off the leather vest he wears, revealing a bulletproof protectant that saves him from certain dangers. “Get on the bed, кролик,” Winter orders as he continues to strip himself. You begin to stand up on your wobbly, scarred legs, but he tuts. “Uh uh, not like that,” he interjects, walking back to you. He pushes you back onto the floor, and you fall with a sob. “On your knees, because that’s what you deserve. Nothing more, шлюха,” he sneers, and you sniffle.

You slowly crawl to the bed. Each time your knees touch the ground, you burn up with both arousal and humiliation. And it’s not like the action is making your need to go to the bathroom any better. The abrupt movement makes the liquid slosh inside you, and you want to burst out in tears, begging Winter to just let you relieve yourself. Your hands have slight scars from your nails, and it reminds you of when your father would encourage you to do the monkey bars.

You’d always try to swing yourself to the end with all your might. But you never could do it. You’d fall down to the ground and leave the park wailing. The scars and blisters on your hand would make your parents so upset, but that never stopped you from wanting to go back and try again. Eventually, you got too old to try, and it would always upset you. Maybe one day you’ll be able to try again— one day.

You hear zippers unzipping and velcro cracking behind you as you get on the bed. The coolness of the sheets is so refreshing against your hot skin. It soothes you for a few seconds, but it eventually loses its worth. You turn around and face him with a sort of dumbfounded look on your face. He fucking loves it; Winter always does. He’s naked, fully naked, and even his signature tactical boots have been discarded.

If you squint, you could see the way your wetness shines on his boot. “Good girl, such as good little bunny,” he praises, and you can feel yourself get flustered. Winter climbs onto the bed, staring you dead in the eyes. He kneels in front of you with a wicked smirk, and he brings his flesh hand up to your throat. You let out a gasp as he squeezes your neck tightly before he leans in closer to you.

The Soldat’s face is just a mere few centimetres away from yours. You can feel each breath that he takes against your skin. His hard cock rests against your sticky chest, and he’s still hard as fuck. “Open your mouth, кролик,” he orders, and you instantly do so. You wait for his cock to be stuffed in your mouth once again, but it never comes. You watch as he puckers his lips up before spitting right by your mouth.

You choke in surprise as his saliva slowly drips into your mouth, landing on your sore tongue. You whimper at the feeling, and Winter has a proud smile on his face. He pulls his head away from yours, in the same manner your father would whenever he’d finish one of his masterpieces. “Swallow it all, кролик, I know you want to,” he orders in a sing-song voice.

You follow his demand obediently. You can’t lie; the sheer act of him spitting in your mouth and forcing you to swallow it makes you even wetter. You’d take anything he gives you. “You’re such a good girl, you know that right?” he questions, and your chest heaves. Winter’s cock twitches against you, and you so desperately want him inside you. But there’s nothing you want more than to go relieve yourself.

His metal hand comes up to your face, and you think he’s going to lovingly hold you. You absolutely adore it when he strokes your cheeks. The Soldat’s thumb touches the soft yet slightly sweaty skin of your face and moves back and forth. Chills run down your spine, and you smile into his touch. He suddenly pulls his hand away, and he strikes you roughly. You let out a cry as your skin stings and prickles from the hit.

He does it again and again until your tears soak his hand. Your cheek is practically numb from the pain. You can feel his cock leaking with cum, and you know that he’s going to fuck you, just like you want him to. “Did you forget your manners?” Winter harshly questions, and you quickly shake your head. “T- Thank you, Master,” you whisper to him, and he smiles.

“Master… Can I please go to the bathroom? Please, it hurts,” you beg to him, but he just shakes his head. “P- Please, Master? I’ll be a good girl, I promise!” you plead to him as your tears run down your face even quicker. He ignores your cries for relief, and he instead slams you onto the bed. Your mind is a mess as he combs on top of you, and the aches you have only get stronger.

The hand that was slapping some sense into you finds a new home on your stomach, right above your swollen bladder. He pushes down on your stomach slightly, and you kick your legs. “Shh, none of that, no, stop it,” he shushes, and you try your hardest to not let go right there and then. “Master knows what you need, okay? And right now, you need my cock, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and you sob.

The hand on your throat moves to his cock, and he grabs his thick base. The veins on the side throb with need, and in one thrust, he bottoms out inside you. You barely have the time to register what’s just happened. The painful stretch of his cock radiates throughout your core, and you dig your nails into the scarred skin of your palms. His tip nudges against your g-spot, and you coat his cock with your wetness.

Winter is buried inside you to the hilt, filling you up to the brim. His swollen, heavy balls rest against your ass, and you both try to get used to the connection. The painful stretch dulls down to an exquisite pleasure, and Winter loves the way your tight cunt gets used to his thick cock. He’s splitting you in two, but he simply does not care. His hand returns back to your throat, and this time, he squeezes the sides of your neck even tighter.

Winter pulls his cock out until his fat tip is the only thing resting inside of your pussy. He slams back into you roughly, and you let out a cry. Your jaw falls slack as the Soldat begins to fuck into your relentlessly. His balls slap against your ass, and your loud, short-lived moans fill the cell that you’ve grown to love. “Fucking hell, кролик, your pussy feels so good,” he growls, slamming into you even harder.

Your tits bounce with every movement he makes. The pleasure sears through your body as Winter hammers against your poor g-spot with each thrust he makes. “Master, please, I need to go really badly,” you beg to him as he continues to fuck you. He shakes his head in objection before pushing down on your stomach even harder. You let out a wail and try to squirm away, but you only worsen things for yourself.

“No, you don’t, кролик. The only thing you need is my cock,” the Soldat tells you, and you upsettingly toss your head back. “No, Master, please, I don’t wanna make a mess,” you reason with him, but he just doesn't seem to want to listen. “I know that, кролик, but you need to listen to me, okay? You don’t need to go; you just need me,” he growls lowly, and you can feel him pushing harder on your bladder.

“No- Wait, Master, please stop pushing on me,” you implore to him as a moan follows your words. Your silky, wet cunt hugs his cock as the tingly feeling in your bladder becomes stronger. You want to cross your legs and stop it from growing, but you can’t. Pressure builds up in your core, and you’re not sure if you’re going to come or if you’re going to make a mess and humiliate yourself.

“Let go, мой тупой ребенок, I know you want to so badly. You can make a mess, do it,” Winter urges, and you shake your head. “No, Master, please stop it,” you cry to him, but he only fucks you harder. One specific thrust hits your cervix, and you yell out in pain before even realizing what’s happened. Warmth trickles down your thighs and onto his cock. You let out a wail as humiliation blossoms from your soul.

Though there’s nobody else watching, you’re still embarrassed. And that wicked smirk on Winter’s face does nothing to help you out. The sound of it makes your back sweat, and you want the ground to open up and take you home. Your urine wets the sheets beneath you, and your tears wet your face. “God, look at you. You finally got what you wanted, and here you are, crying like a fucking brat. You’re so ungrateful. Do you even deserve my cum?” he questions with disgust on his tongue.

You struggle to nod, but you do it anyway. The last thing you need is to have your Master upset with you. “‘M sorry, Master, please forgive me,” you plead to him. You continue to relieve yourself, and he continues to fuck you despite the mess you’re making in his shaft. “Такой грязный, глупый малыш. Ты такой жалкий, ты же знаешь это, да?” he questions even though you only know one simple word of Russian. You moan loudly as you slowly stop making a mess and begin to feel your orgasm building up.

“Aw, are you gonna come, кролик?” Winter asks you in a condescending tone, one that makes you even wetter. The lewd sounds that come from your pussy as just as humiliating as what you’ve just done, but you don’t care. You’re too busy getting fucked stupid. “Fuck, I can’t wait to fill this pussy up with my cum; watch it leak out of you. You always do look prettier when you’re filled up with my cum,” he moans as his thrusts grow sloppy.

“Master, ‘m gonna c- come,” you whimper to him, laying in your own piss. “Go ahead, шлюха, come on my cock. You already made a mess on me twice, might as well do it for the third time,” Winter growls, moving the hand that lays on your stomach. He grabs your hips roughly and pulls you closer towards his cock. Hot flames lick at your abdomen as you hit your climax, seeing stars in your vision.

Your reality is warped as you can barely make out the look on Winter’s face. Darkness takes over your vision in the same manner as the clouds would take over the skies on those hot summer days. They would hide the pretty sun for a few minutes, and then they’d leave eventually. Your pussy clamps down on his cock tightly as you coat him with your juices, making him moan.

You wail loudly as you clench around him, making him groan. “Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he asks without waiting for an answer. You nod as he fucks you through your orgasm, not even caring about how overstimulated you are. His cock slips in and out of you with ease and his thrusts begin to grow sloppy. “Tell me how much you want my cum,” he demands, fucking you even slower.

“I- I want your cum really badly, Master. I need it so badly; please fill me up with your cum!” you politely beg to you as you come down from your much-needed high. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up so nicely, кролик, you’re gonna beg me to fuck you again,” Winter husks as his balls tighten up. A string of Russian words leave his mouth, and you have to assume that it’s all foul language.

Warm, white ropes of cum paint your walls as he pushes deep inside your cunt while coming. Winter’s blue eyes squeeze shut, and you both moan at the feeling. He fills you up just like he promised, and you bite down on your lips. Everything has dried, and you feel disgusted, so you try to focus on the way his cum pumps inside you. His cock stays inside you, but he doesn’t soften at all, and you know what that means. Winter falls on top of your sticky chest with a sigh, and tears sting your eyes.

Though he says you need him, you wonder if that’s really true.

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