#gee look at that cool flower | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hanniewho · 26 days ago

Note

I loved your Mikey headcanons, Can you write your Gerard headcanons? You can write anything from sfw to dead dove

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Notes: I have so many things to yap about this skrunkly pookie wookie cookie of a man. And stalker gee would be so perfect omgomgmg

༘ ⋆｡ ˚ Warnings: Noncon, Panty sniffing, Masturbating, Privacy invasion, Corruption kink, Mention of piss, Blood and literally disgusting shit (I do not condone any of this behavior in real life so don't do it it's not cool and it's not hot!)

⋆✦ Pairings: Stalker! Gerard x Underage virgin fem reader

۫ ꣑ৎ DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

𝜗𝜚˚⋆SFW

The first time he saw you was one of the tour they're having, and you're in the front row with your mum and the closest to the stage.

You look so happy and smiling widely to him it made him almost forgot that's he's singing.

He feels so disgusted of himself for crushing on you, a high schooler, and not even legal yet, but he can't help it. You're so gorgeous and look so innocent he just wanna ruin you.

He would leave you flowers and gifts everyday with a note on it "Keep going you're great!" "Have some treat you're the best♡" "Even with all of these flowers none of them can show how much I love you :)"

You're wondering where these are coming from and who sends them. It's sweet and adorable but you're freaking out.

You don't even feel safe at home anymore because you feel like you're being watched, so you go to school even more often even though you hated it but it's better than staying home.

You feel your anxiety grew each week, and you talk about it to your friends. All of them are concerned for you.

And when you're at home you rarely came out of your room anymore.

You made sure all the windows are covered in curtains and locked, but of course, he found a way to break in he just loves you so much.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ NSFW

He would take so many pictures of you just to touch himself right after it he can't help himself.

He will break into your room just to kneel next to your bed and admire how pretty you are. And in the morning you wonder why your thighs always ended up with sticky load.

Your panties always go missing, too and here he is sniffing someone's panties and playing his rock hard cock.

He just love you so so much that he can't help himself but to dream to fuck you so good.

He always imagine how tight your pussy is since he knows everything about you.

He knows you're a virgin, and it turns him on even more he just wanna ruin your cute pussy and make you his!

You jolted awake to a pounding, your heart racing. At first, you thought it was the bass from your neighbor's stereo, but it was something more... personal. You lay in your small, dimly-lit room, the only source of light the flickering street lamp outside your window, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The mattress beneath you protested with every thrust, and the headboard thudded rhythmically against the wall. Panic set in as you realized the pounding was coming from inside you. You were being violated, your tight, virgin body being used against your will.

The pain was sharp, like a knife slicing through the tender barrier of your innocence. You tried to scream, but a rough hand clamped over your mouth, stifling the sound. You tasted the metallic tang of fear as you bit down on your lip, trying to hold back the tears. Your eyes searched the room frantically, but all you could make out was the dark figure hovering above you, his identity obscured by the shadows. His breath was hot and ragged, a stark contrast to the cool air in the room, and you felt his body weight pressing you down into the mattress.

He leaned closer, his grunts becoming more feral with every thrust. The smell of him, musky and unwelcome, filled your nostrils as he whispered into your ear, "You're tighter than I imagined." His words were a dark revelation, confirming the horror of what was happening. The hand over your mouth moved to grip your neck, his thumb tracing the pulse point, as if he were fascinated by the throb of your terror. "You're like killing me," he groaned, his voice a sinister rasp, "squeezing my cock like that." His eyes gleamed in the dim light, a sick, twisted pleasure etched into his features as he took in your wide-eyed, horrified gaze.

You couldn't help but moan into his hand, the pain morphing into a confusing mix of agony and arousal. The person you called your hero, your celebrity crush, was fucking you in the sacred sanctity of your own room, your parents' house a prison keeping you trapped with this monster. You felt a tear slip down your cheek, only to be lost in the pillow beneath you, as your body began to betray you. Your hips moved of their own accord, desperately seeking some semblance of comfort in the unyielding assault, and your walls clenched around him, a reflexive response to the intrusion.

Leaning down, he whispered into your ear, "Relax, okay?" His voice was soothing, a stark contrast to the violence of his actions. "It won't hurt so much if you just let go." His breath was warm and minty, and you realized with a start that he had been watching you, learning your routines, memorizing your scent, all while planning this twisted rendezvous. His teeth grazed the tender skin of your neck, and you felt a pinch as his fangs pierced your flesh. The pain was immediate and sharp, but it was soon overwhelmed by a rush of heat and pleasure that flooded your body. You were being turned on against your will, your traitorous body responding to the bite of the man who had been stalking you.

As he bit deeper, you felt your muscles relaxing, a strange lethargy seeping into your limbs. His hand around your neck tightened, and his thumb caressed your pulse as it raced under his touch. His eyes held yours, the gleam in them now one of power and satisfaction as he watched the fear slowly recede. You couldn't fight anymore; you were his to do with as he pleased. He began to move in earnest, his hips pistoning into you with a force that made the bed frame creak in protest. Each thrust sent waves of conflicting sensations through you: pain, pleasure, disgust, and a sick, twisted need for more.

"Fuck, you're so good," he grunted, his breath hot and ragged in your ear. His cock was thick and merciless, stretching you to the brink of what you could bear. His words were a taunt, a declaration of his victory over your will. "You're going to take all of me, aren't you?" His hand left your neck, instead reaching down to cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of resistance, any spark of defiance. But all he saw was a dull acceptance, a silent plea for it to be over.

He slammed into you again, his hips punishing your vulnerable form. "You want that, don't you?" His voice was a mix of lust and malice. "You want to be filled with my kids." His words were a violation in themselves, a perversion of the innocent crush you had once held for him. You felt your stomach clench at the thought, but your body responded, your walls contracting around him in an involuntary invitation for more. "Say it," he demanded, his voice now a growl. "Tell me how much you want it."

You shake your head 'no- please don't i-', your voice muffled by his palm, but he only laughed, the sound echoing through the room, sending shivers down your spine. "Oh, I know you do," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic delight. "Your body's singing it for me." His thumb traced the outline of your lip, smearing your own blood onto your skin. "Say it," he repeated, his voice a seductive command that seemed to resonate in your very bones.

The struggle within you was visceral, a war between the primal instinct to survive and the uncontrollable desire that his bite had kindled. Each thrust brought you closer to the precipice of pleasure and pain, and you felt your resolve crumbling. "I-I don't," you managed to choke out, your voice trembling.

He leaned in closer, his eyes burning into yours. "Say it," he whispered, his voice a seductive purr. "Say you want it." His thumb slid over your lip, the coppery taste of your own blood a stark reminder of the power he held over you.

You felt his tongue, warm and wet, trace the line of your neck. His breath hitched as he took in your scent, his pupils dilating with arousal. "I saw how you looked at me that day," he murmured, his voice a low, dark rumble. "Your eyes, it's like you're looking at me like I saved your life." His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of disgust and a perverse thrill that made your stomach churn.

His licks grew more insistent, his tongue circling the bite marks like a vulture over fresh kill. Each pass sent a jolt of sensation through your body, and you couldn't help the small whimpers that escaped your lips. The pleasure was wrong, a twisted mockery of what it should be, but it was there, undeniable and intoxicating. His hand moved from your chin to your throat, squeezing gently, reminding you of the power he had over your life. "Look at me," he demanded, his voice a whispered snarl.

You met his gaze, those piercing eyes that had once held so much hope and admiration now filled with a dark, possessive hunger. "Tell me," he said, his voice thick with desire, "tell me how much you want me to fill you with my cum." The words were a slap in the face, but your body responded with a betraying throb, your arousal growing with each twisted second that ticked by. You felt your cheeks flush with shame and anger, but the fight in you was waning.

With a snarl, he grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back and exposing your throat. His teeth sank into your flesh again, this time with a ferocity that made you gasp. The pain was intense, but it was quickly drowned out by the flood of pleasure that followed, as if your body had been rewired to crave his bite. He began to fuck you harder, his hips slapping against your thighs with a wet, obscene sound. His hand moved to your chest, his long, cold fingers playing with your nipples, rolling and pinching until you moaned into his palm.

You couldn't believe what was happening. The person you had once adored, the one whose posters lined your walls, was now the monster that owned your body. And yet, the pleasure was undeniable, a sick, twisted dance of pain and ecstasy that made you feel so alive yet so dirty. Your not fully developed breasts bounced with each thrust, and you could feel the ache deep within you, the pressure building, threatening to shatter the last of your resolve. You cursed your parents for being out of town, leaving you at the mercy of this madman who had invaded your sanctuary.

As you felt his fingers tease and pinch your sensitive nipples, you bit down on your bottom lip, the sting of pain mixing with the sensation of his teeth in your neck. It was as if your body was torn between the need to scream for help and the betraying pleasure that coursed through your veins with every twisted caress. You could feel his excitement growing, his movements becoming more frantic, and you knew he was close to his release. Your eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out the reality of his possession, trying to find a shred of dignity in the dark corners of your mind.

The curses you silently whispered to your parents grew louder in your head with every thrust, your anger a fiery beacon in the sea of fear and despair. They had always been so overprotective, so concerned about who you talked to, who you saw, what you did. Yet, here you were, in the most vulnerable moment of your life, and they were nowhere to be found. The irony was a bitter pill to swallow, making the situation feel even more like a nightmare you couldn't wake from.

As the pressure within you grew, so did the intensity of his bites, his teeth digging deeper into your tender flesh, his hands now a vice around your throat and the small mounds of your chest. You could feel his hunger, his need to claim you fully, to make you his in the most primal way possible. Each pinch of your nipples sent a jolt of pain-laced pleasure through your body, making your toes curl and your back arch involuntarily. Your breaths came out in ragged gasps, muffled by the hand that still covered your mouth.

His laugh was a low, guttural sound that vibrated against your skin, sending goosebumps down your spine. "Oh fuck," he groaned, "you're clenching around me like a vise, baby. You need to stop that, it's killing my dick." His words were a twisted mix of pain and pleasure, the kind that made your stomach drop and your pussy clench around him even tighter. His hips rocked into you with renewed vigor, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the quiet room.

The pressure within you built to a crescendo, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of an orgasm you never wanted, never asked for. His eyes bore into yours, the hunger in them unmistakable as he whispered, "You're going to come for me, aren't you?" It was a question that didn't need an answer; his cock was a living testament to your body's response to his violent ministrations.

His hand trailed down from your throat, over your chest, and paused at the bulge of your stomach. He pushed into the soft flesh, the feeling of his hand so alien, so wrong, and yet your body responded with a betraying shiver of excitement. The reality of his invasion was stark, a physical manifestation of the deep, dark secret that was now lodged within you. He grinned, his teeth stained with your blood, and you realized with a jolt of horror that he was watching the signs of his own pleasure reflected in your eyes.

"Look at that," he murmured, his voice a dark caress that sent a shiver down your spine. "You're so full of me." His fingers circled the swollen flesh of your abdomen, pressing down as he thrust into you, emphasizing the depth of his penetration. The feeling was overwhelming, a mix of revulsion and a perverse thrill that had you biting down harder on the hand muffling your screams. You could feel the head of his cock nudging against your cervix with every plunge, the sensation both terrifying and exhilarating.

His eyes never left yours, watching with a twisted fascination as you squirmed beneath him. "You're going to take it all," he breathed, his voice thick with lust. "You're going to take every drop of my cum, and you're going to beg for more." His hand on your stomach grew more insistent, his nails digging in slightly, a reminder of the power he held over you. You felt the first tremors of an orgasm you never wanted, your body's natural response to the relentless pounding that was driving you closer to the edge.

Your eyes searched his, pleading, but all you saw was the monster that lurked beneath the surface. His hand moved lower, his thumb circling your clit with a practiced ease that made you feel even more violated. He knew exactly what he was doing, how to make your body respond even as your mind recoiled in horror. The pressure grew unbearable, and you knew you were going to break. "Please," you whispered, your voice a trembling mess. "Please stop." But the words were lost in the cacophony of your own moans and his grunts of pleasure.

His eyes narrowed, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "You're going to come for me, aren't you?" His thumb pressed down harder, and you felt your body tighten around him. "You're going to scream my name when I fill you up." The thought of giving him what he wanted was unbearable, but the sensation was too intense to ignore. You bit down on the hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds that were threatening to escape. "I feel like I'm gonna pee," you sobbed, your voice muffled and pathetic.

Gerard chuckled darkly, his teeth still buried in your neck. "That's it," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You're gonna come for me, baby." His hips bucked faster, his cock slamming into you with a ferocity that was both terrifying and exhilarating. You felt a warm rush building, the pressure in your lower belly becoming unbearable. It was as if your body was being torn apart by the force of his lust and your own unwanted response.

You couldn't stop the moan that escaped, your body arching off the bed despite your attempts to hold back. The pleasure was like a wildfire, consuming you, turning your fear and anger into something darker, something that made you feel alive in the most twisted way possible. His eyes never left yours, his smile widening as he watched you fall apart beneath him. "That's it," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. "Let go for me."

And then, with a final, brutal thrust, you did. The orgasm ripped through you, tearing apart the last shreds of your dignity. Your walls spasmed around his cock, milking him, and you felt him tense, his hips jerking as he emptied himself into you. His bite grew deeper, and you felt a warmth spread from the puncture wounds, a strange feeling that was both soothing and terrifying. His cum filled you, a thick, hot presence that made your stomach churn with a mix of pleasure and disgust. You were his now, in the most intimate way possible, and there was no going back.

Tears streamed down your face as he pulled away, his eyes still gleaming with triumph. He licked the blood from his teeth with a satisfied smack, a grin spreading across his face like a dark shadow. "See?" he murmured, his voice a dark purr. "It's not so bad, is it?" He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "You liked it, didn't you?" His hand slid down your body, coming to rest on the sticky mess between your legs, his fingers coated in your blood and his cum. "You're going to want more," he promised, his voice dripping with a sinister anticipation.

The sobs that tore from your throat were a mix of pain and anger, a visceral rejection of his claim. "No," you slurred out, your voice thick with tears and fear. "Fuck no." But even as you denied it, your traitorous body was still quivering with the aftershocks of your unwanted orgasm, the muscles of your pussy clenching around the emptiness he had left behind. You felt dirty, used, and utterly destroyed. The taste of your own blood in your mouth was a stark reminder of the reality of the situation.

He pulled out of you with a wet pop, the absence of his thick cock leaving you feeling both relieved and violated. He leaned over, his smile wide and predatory, and pushed your leg over his shoulder. The gesture was almost gentle, a stark contrast to the violence that had just occurred. "Aww, you're clenching around nothing," he cooed, his voice a twisted parody of affection. "That's so cute." His thumb traced over your swollen clit, and you couldn't help the involuntary jerk of your hips, the sensitivity of your overstimulated flesh making you shiver.

The room spun around you, the smell of sex and fear thick in the air. You felt his eyes on you, watching you with a mix of curiosity and hunger. It was as if he were studying you, cataloging your every reaction for some twisted, future encounter. "You're so responsive," he murmured, his voice a low purr that sent a shiver down your spine. "I can't wait to see what else I can get you to do." His fingers slid back inside you, coated in your juices and his own seed, and you whimpered, your body betraying you with a shudder of pleasure.

He began to pump his fingers in and out, his thumb rubbing slow circles around your clit. Your body responded despite the horror of the situation, your walls clenching around his intrusion. The sensation was too much, a blend of pain and pleasure that you couldn't escape. His eyes never left yours, a silent challenge that made your stomach twist. "You want more," he whispered, his breath hot against your cheek. "You can't help it."

You felt yourself trembling, your muscles tightening around his fingers as he worked you expertly. Your mind screamed for it to stop, but your body was a traitor, responding to his touch like it was a lifeline. He leaned in closer, his mouth grazing your ear as he murmured, "Just say it. Tell me how much you want me to fill you up again." The words were a dark seduction, a siren's call that your body was powerless to resist.

With each word, his grip on your neck loosened slightly, his thumb tracing gentle patterns along your jawline. His breath was sweet, a stark contrast to the metallic taste of your own blood. "Let me love you," he whispered, his voice a velvet caress that made your skin crawl and your stomach churn. "Let me give you everything you've ever dreamed of." His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, and you felt your mouth open slightly, his words a drug that clouded your judgment.

Your mind reeled with the promise of escape, of a life free from the pain and fear that now suffocated you. You wanted to believe him, to give in to the dark allure of his words. But deep down, you knew it was a lie. He was a predator, a monster masquerading as a savior. "Anything," he murmured, his eyes searching yours, "just tell me what you want, and it's yours." The weight of his body was a constant reminder of his power, his fingers still moving inside you with a disturbing gentleness.

You searched for something, anything to cling to, a way out of the horror that had become your reality. And in that moment, a spark of defiance flickered to life. "Get out," you whispered, your voice hoarse from screaming into his hand. "Leave me alone." The words were a whispered challenge, a declaration of your refusal to be his plaything.

He paused, his eyes narrowing, his thumb still circling your clit. "What did you say?" His voice was deceptively calm, a serpent coiled and ready to strike. But you felt a shift in the air, a hint of doubt in his touch. You knew you had to be careful, to play the part of the victim while searching for a way to fight back.

"Please," you whimpered, forcing a tremble into your voice, "please don't do this." Your eyes searched his, trying to find a shred of humanity in the monster that held you captive. His hand stilled, and for a moment, you thought you'd convinced him. But then his smile grew, a chilling twist of his lips that sent a cold shiver down your spine.

"You're so convincing," he said, his voice low and mocking. "But we both know the truth, don't we?" He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your face. "Your body tells me everything I need to know." His hand around your neck tightened, a silent warning not to challenge him. His thumb slid back to your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your breath hitch.

You felt a flicker of anger, a small flame of rebellion that grew with each sickening stroke. "No," you choked out, your voice a hoarse whisper. "It's not what I want." But even as you denied it, your body was betraying you again, your pussy clenching around his fingers. The pleasure was a living lie, a mockery of everything you felt for him before this night.

Gerard leaned in closer, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Oh, but it is," he murmured, his voice a dark symphony of temptation. "You can't lie to me, not like this." His words were a taunt, a declaration of his victory over your will. You felt his breath on your neck as he took in your scent, his fangs scraping against your skin. The anticipation was a knife's edge, cutting through the fog of fear and pain.

You swallowed hard, your eyes searching the room for anything that could serve as a weapon. But it was a futile effort; he had chosen his hunting ground well. The room was empty, stripped of anything that could help you. The only sounds were the ragged gasps of your own breath and the wet, obscene noises of his fingers moving in and out of you. You could feel his cock, still hard and demanding, pressing against your inner thigh. The thought of him taking you again was almost too much to bear.

With a snarl, you reached down and grabbed his wrist, trying to pull his hand away from your pussy. He laughed, the sound a chilling counterpoint to the seriousness of the situation. "So feisty," he said, his grip tightening around your throat. "But it's too late for that." His thumb continued to circle your clit, and you bit back a whimper of pleasure.

He leaned in, peppering your face with wet, open-mouthed kisses. "How about you be a good girl and just take my cock, yeah?" he murmured, his voice a seductive hiss that made your skin crawl. His other hand reached up to fondle your underdeveloped breast, his cold, claw-like fingers pinching your tender nipple. The sensation was a mix of pain and arousal that had you writhing beneath him, hating yourself for the response your body couldn't help but give.

With a grin, he flipped you onto your stomach, your face buried in the pillows. The fabric muffled your cries as he pushed your legs apart, his body looming over you like a dark specter. "Don't go stiff," he warned, his voice a harsh whisper, "it'll hurt." The reality of his words sank in, and you forced yourself to relax, your body trembling with fear and revulsion.

You felt the mattress shift as he positioned himself behind you, his cock, still slick with your blood and juices, pressing against your bruised entrance. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back as he entered you once more, the pillows muffling your screams. Each thrust was a painful reminder of his dominance, your body stretching to accommodate his thickness. The smell of him was everywhere, a heady mix of lust and power that made your stomach churn.

His balls slapped against your ass with each movement, the sensation a stark contrast to the coldness of his skin. Each time he buried himself to the hilt, you felt the heat of his body deep inside you, the reality of his invasion impossible to ignore. His breath was hot on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he whispered sweet nothings that curdled in your ears. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice a dark symphony of possession. "I own every part of you."

The bed frame groaned in protest, the springs squeaking with the force of his thrusts. You could feel the sticky mess of your combined fluids coating your thighs, a sticky reminder of his dominance. His hand moved up to your neck, his grip tightening as he began to fuck you harder, the pain bringing tears to your eyes. "Scream for me," he ordered, his voice a harsh command. "Let me hear how much you love it."

You bit down on the pillow, muffling your cries as best you could. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg, but your body was no longer your own. Each thrust sent waves of painful pleasure through you, a twisted symphony of agony and arousal that you couldn't ignore. His other hand slid down to your clit, his thumb pressing down with just the right amount of pressure to send sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours was a rhythmic beat in the quiet of the night, a morbid soundtrack to the horror playing out. You felt his cock swell even further inside you, the pressure building until it was almost unbearable. Your muscles tightened, preparing for the inevitable release. You clenched your eyes shut, willing it to stop, but it was as if your body had a mind of its own.

With a feral growl, he leaned down and bit into your shoulder, the pain sharp and sudden. Your muffled scream was lost in the fabric of the pillow as you felt him come, his hot seed filling you up. Your body responded in kind, betraying you once again with a powerful orgasm that had you bucking against him. He held you down, grunting with each spurt of his release, his teeth still embedded in your skin.

As the tremors of his climax subsided, he pulled out of you, his grip on your hair releasing. You collapsed onto the mattress, your body a trembling mess of pain and pleasure. The metallic taste of your own blood mingled with your tears as you lay there, panting and defeated. He rolled you onto your back, his eyes gleaming in the dim light as he licked the blood from your neck, his tongue hot and rough against your sensitive skin.

"Look at me," he demanded, his voice a low growl. You met his gaze, the defiance in your eyes replaced with a dull emptiness. He studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "You're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?" He whispered, his thumb tracing the fresh bite marks on your neck. "You're going to do everything I say."

You nodded weakly, the fight draining out of you. What was the point in resisting? Your body had already betrayed you once; it would surely do so again. He smirked, pleased with your response. "That's my girl," he said, his voice a dark caress that made your skin crawl. He leaned in and kissed you, his tongue forcing its way past your lips, tasting of your blood and his own saliva.

As he pulled away, you felt a strange warmth spread through your body, a sensation that was both soothing and terrifying. It was as if he were marking you from the inside out, leaving a part of himself in every inch of your being. Your eyes fluttered closed, unable to meet his gaze any longer. The weight of his body lifted from yours, and you heard the rustle of clothing as he dressed.

The sound of his belt buckling was a stark reminder of the reality of your situation. He was going to leave you here, used and discarded like a piece of trash. "Are you just going to leave me like that?" you managed to croak out, the words barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Gerard paused, his eyes flickering down to the mess between your legs before meeting yours again. "We're not done yet," he said, his voice a dark promise that sent a cold shiver down your spine. "But you need to rest, little one. I have big plans for you." He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I'll be watching you, always."

The room grew colder as he left, the door clicking shut with a finality that echoed through the silence. You lay there, your body still trembling with aftershocks of pain and unwanted pleasure. The smell of him lingered, a heady mix of cologne and sweat that made you want to retch. Your mind raced, trying to process the horror of what had just happened, the reality of your new life as his toy, his pet, his...lover?

#my chemical romance #my chemical gerard #my chemical fucking romance #my chem romance #gerard way x reader #gerard way #mcr gerard #gerard way smut #dead dove do not eat #ᯓᡣ𐭩han

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 11 months ago

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“An emergency contact…” Yuu scratches their head. “Well, there’s one adult who stands out. Someone who has welcomed me with open arms, listened to my needs, and someone I really look up to and trust. Headmage Crowley! Do you have Trein’s cell number?”

Not gonna lie, you had me bawling in the first half 😂

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens.

Up until now, Crowley had been nodding enthusiastically to your every comment. Feathers fluffed, eyes shut, as he bathed in the unearned praise. You could almost see his ego inflating right before you.

One adult who stands out.

A smile formed.

Someone who has welcomed me with open arms...

It grew, elevating the apples of his cheeks.

... listened to my needs...

He was glowing with pride, the most excited you had ever witnessed him.

... and someone I really look up to and respect.

His face might actually rip in half.

The you had dropped the bomb, and Crowley's entire demeanor collapsed in on itself. His shattered smile landed atop of the heap.

“Wh-What?! Professor Trein…!!” he managed to stutter out. “Did I hear you correctly?!”

"Yeah," you replied calmly. "Professor Trein."

"Wh-What exactly makes him a standout?!" Crowley demanded. When you gave him a queer look, he quickly deflected. "N-Not that I am envious, of course! I am asking as his employer so that I may take student feedback into consideration when calculating end-of-the-year performance-based bonuses."

"He's done so much to look after me and all of his students,” you patiently explained. “Professor Trein chaperoned us to the City of Flowers and taught us about its history. He ensured our safety when there was trouble afoot and even shed a tear for our moral character. I also heard from Ace and Deuce that Professor Trein oversaw NRC when Charon invaded campus.

“He always makes time to speak one-on-one with his students even on matters outside of schoolwork. Professor Trein cares about us like we're his real children and grandchildren. I'd totally trust him as my emergency contact.

“Compared to that… I seem to vaguely remember a certain someone who shirks his responsibilities at every opportunity, wastes his time on walks and snacks instead of running the school, offloads his duties onto children, and ignores my SOS calls when I was being held hostage over winter break.”

“I wonder who it could be that you’re speaking off.”

“Gee, I wonder,” you said sarcastically, staring right at Crowley. “Sucks that we’ll never know. Anyway, do you have Professor Trein's number or not?"

"W-Well!!" Crowley bristled, disarmed by your demand. "It wouldn't be very professional of me to hand out my employees' contact information as though it were Halloween candy! It's strictly confidential, I'm afraid I cannot divulge it."

He folded his arms smugly, waiting for you to change your mind, to beg for his cell phone number instead.

"Aaah, I get it." You shrugged, cool as a cucumber. "That's okay, I can ask Professor Trein directly myself. It was worth a shot to ask you anyway, headmaster. See ya!"

With that, you turned and exited his office. No fanfare, no groveling. Just... nothing.

Crowley completely deflated, cradling his head in his hands. He teased out a whiny groan.

"For them to overlook their most generous headmaster in favor of Professor Trein... Ooooh, where did I go wrong with that child...?"

#twst #twisted wonderland #Dire Crowley #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Two Ravens at the Writing Desk #Reader #self insert #glorious masquerade spoilers #book 6 spoilers #book 4 spoilers

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abooklover · 1 year ago

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Lines/things in the red white and royal blue movie that make me scream and laugh hysterically (bear with me cause there’s a lot):

‘an urge I currently share’ (Ellen)

‘Making it was one of the most depressing moments of my career and I once saw Mitch McConnell eating a banana’ (Zahra)

‘You can hate prince Henry all you want but the minute you see a camera you better act like the sun shines out of his ass and you have a vitamin d deficiency’ (made even funnier cause of how literally this turned out) - bonus ‘what if I set myself on fire’ (Alex), ‘we’d ship the ashes to Heathrow’ (Zahra)

‘That’s perfect, you can kill me and I won’t have to go’ (Henry)

‘That’s what makes you so charming. That and your eyelashes.’ (So fucking glad they included at least a reference to this. Taylor’s lashes were working fucking overtime in this movie.)

Henry’s text with the attachment and ‘but we were ever so careful, dear’ (One of my favourite texts in the book and I’m so glad it made it into the movie)

‘Can you think of anything more wasteful’ (Alex), ‘Perhaps this conversation’ (Henry)

Henry’s weird little attempt at dancing while chugging out of a champagne bottle with on fist pumping weakly into the air (he is so me it hurts)

‘He grabbed my hair in a way that made me understand the difference between rugby and football’ (Alex)

‘Princes aren’t allowed to be gay, you should know that’ (Nora)

Alex trying to look cool for when Henry walks into the red room (we love an awkward boy)

Alex and Henry jumping apart to do the most unnatural things (Alex inspecting flowers like it’s his job and Henry perusing the bookshelf) like the idiots they are when Amy walks in on them making out

‘Are you still…’ (Alex) ‘Like Stonehenge’ (Henry), ‘or Big Ben’ (Alex)

‘Henry and I are much happier against walls’ (Alex)

‘Are they known for their homosexual tendencies’ (Alex)

‘And I thought Alex Gabriel Claremont Diaz was a mouthful’ (Alex), ‘He is’ (Henry) - and the fucking looks that followed it (kill me now)

‘I went to an English boarding school dear, trust me you’re in good hands’ (Henry)

‘Once, unsuccessfully’ (Henry)

‘Oh gee kid I’m sorry to interrupt your process of becoming but you’re the one who decided to put your dick into the heir to the British throne’ (Zahra), ‘Technically I’m the spare’ (Henry), ‘Not talking to you sir’ (Zahra)

‘Every time I see you it takes another year off of my life’ (Zahra)

Alex’s ‘Noooo..’ and the little laugh he does

‘If I’d had more warning I could’ve made you a PowerPoint presentation’ (Ellen) - another incredible callback to the book

Oscar Diaz’s affectionate ‘you little shit’

‘I��ve been thinking’ (Alex), ‘I seriously doubt that’ (Henry) and Alex’s mimick of it (absolute gold)

‘Or find herself at the top of the staircase with Phillip around’ (Bea, you literally had no right)

Zahra’s face when Alex starts mooning over Henry after his speech, then Zahra saying ‘oh my god, I just have to do everything round here’ and do not get me started on her whole speech to Shaan (greatest thing ever)

‘You might be lousy at keeping secrets kiddo, but I’m not’ (Zahra), ‘Zahra, I could kiss you’ (Alex), ‘Touch me and die’ (Zahra)

‘They can’t keep you locked away forever’ (Alex), ‘We really need to get you a book on English history’ (Henry)

The way Stephen Fry says ‘homosexual’

‘You still haven’t noticed my tie’ and Henry’s little smile afterward (oh how far we’ve come)

BONUS: ‘Do you think anyone noticed?’ and Henry’s exasperated sigh afterward

#No wonder it took me like two and half hours to get through this movie the first time I watched it #just know that when I wasn’t laughing dying or smiling fondly I was crying #do not ask me how many times I’ve watched this movie #you really don’t want to know #it’s embarrassing #I’m sorry but I’m also not #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #rwrb

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pygmi-says-hi · 4 months ago

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I love your writing. It's amazing! If you haven't done so already, I'd like to hear your advice or tips on sentence flow and how to transition between character thoughts and whatnot (just flow in general) because I feel like that's what I struggle with when it comes to writing for me.

I am assuming that you mean transitioning from dialogue/commentary to exposition paragraphs? that's what I'll go with pls tell me if I'm wrong!!!

lemme write an example:

'she'd never seen such a magnificent flower before - the petals were a silvery velvet that glistened in the dawn sunlight. It reminded her of her mother's skirts. A sense of warm nostalgia swept over her at the memory of the flowing fabric that swayed around Mother's ankles.

the rest of the field contained similarly beautiful flora, varying in size from thimble to elephant ear.'

The pink is a character opinion/thought, and the white is the exposition and objective description. when a paragraph is narrated by a character, it reads best to mix them together. When you chunk it like this:

'she'd never seen such a magnificent flower before. It reminded her of her mother's skirts. A sense of warm nostalgia swept over her at the memory of the flowing fabric that swayed around Mother's ankles.

the petals were a silvery velvet that glistened in the dawn sunlight. the rest of the field contained similarly beautiful flora, varying in size from thimble to elephant ear.'

and the expo/narration are kept separate, it's harder to visualize the connection between observation and the reactive thought.

tip 1: keep similar sentences together.

In the above example, I grouped the character's observation of the flower together with the actual description of it.

After, I grouped the memory of the mother's skirts with the emotion.

Finally, the next paragraph was still describing the foliage (aka tying in the initial description), though removed from the narration and still progresses throughout the scene.

does that make sense?

no?

lemme try again guys I got this.

When you transition from 'thought' to 'sight', it might look a little daunting. you'd think "gee I just spent an entire page describing an intense traumatic mental spiral. how do I transition to writing about the room they're in?"

Pick the similar attributes. The middle of the Venn diagram. Okay, character is having a panic attack. It's intense, it's descriptive, there's a lot of inner dialogue. Now, we have to describe the aftermath in relation to the state of the bedroom.

pull them out slowly. If a character is deep in reverie, describe the room how it feels to them. This is a slow transition out of 'me my mine everything about my opinion' description, to 'this is how it is cold turkey' description (plot development).

Example:

(panic attack, oh my god we're dying the world is ending I can't breathe help aahhh)

he shivered. The floorboards had grown cold since the episode started. A cool breeze slithered through the room, chilling him further. leftover adrenaline raised gooseflesh on his arms.

This is entirely objective. no opinion was inserted, but there was the stimulus and physical reaction to the surroundings. this still draws in the character-focused analysis without getting stuck in his head.

2. great sentences think alike. I sometimes feel that my transitions are chunky and not very smooth. Pick common themes to tie them together. "Oh okay, her skirt is blue, it's blue like cornflowers, cornflowers were anna's favorite, now i'm thinking of anna, she'd love it here. where is here? here is in a farmhouse kitchen with...." boom. I made a domino effect from the starting description (blue skirt) to the final destination/scene progression (farmhouse desc).

3. know when you've beat the dead horse. If you've been circling the drain over one thought or milked all the setting adjectives possible for one area, move on. when a scene/dialogue is sufficiently described, the readers are ready for a break.

does that help a little bit?

there was a second part to the request, right? sentence flow? cool beans.

Sentence flow is actually a really cool concept that if you master, you can add so much depth to your writing (i'll def make a part 2 post, stay tuned!).

If you structure a sentence really long and fast without the punctuation and it's just going and going and going oh no-

you start to feel anxious, right? when's it gonna end? what's the kicker? the tension is building and building....

Sentences are short. thin, staccato. not a lot of meat. no meat, maybe. just. bare. bones.

punching, intense, hard thoughts. a shocking discovery, your character doesn't have the processing capacity to think eloquently.

maybe they disobey grammar rules. fuck grammar rules. don't actually tho because you guys lowkey suck at grammar and i'm angry. no don't point out my bad punctuation i'm the teacher here.

point is, the flow of the sentence dictates the reaction. Shakespeare uses this with meter. when the meter is disrupted, it means something bad has happened. In Romeo and Juliet, every time a lie is told, the meter shifts out of iambic pentameter. it's like a 'heads up, something's wrong' to the audience.

USE THIS!!

also - read your story out loud. writers have a tendency to write how they talk. I am a comma fiend because I go off on so many anecdotes I pause all the time while I talk. When I read it out loud and take the necessary pauses though, I want to vomit.

If it's smut I can see how this might be hard for you, but another good idea is to hit hard the grammar rules. If there's a bunch of commas - read the sentence and enunciate the commas. that's how it will read to your audience.

common problems with sentence flow.

feeling long and heavy. if you're describing the action and you feel like you're being swamped in adverbs, take a look at your passive and active voice. passive: "The ball was kicked by Anna." active: "Anna kicked the ball." if your sentences are long and dragged down with adverbs, you're probably really passive.

too much information, not enough words. Thesaurus!! if you've been puzzling over a paragraph and it turns out all you needed were some synonyms, pull out a thesaurus! and a dictionary because remember: similar is not the same. just because a word has similar meanings doesn't mean there aren't special addendums to each.

lost in the sauce. where are we? what's happening? who are you? i'm hungry. too many succulent words! your sentences so big backed they out-backed Outback. long, frivolous words and ten-mile high stacks of adjectives only work sometimes and infrequently. otherwise you spend so much time describing the thing, we forget what the thing actually is.

losing the motivator. why are you writing this sentence/paragraph? what purpose is it supposed to be serving? keep that in mind so you don't lose track and if you do, it'll be easier to get back on it.

repetitive meter. the sentences follow the same pattern, like this one. almost like they're in a loop, circling forever. there's no escaping, you'll like read this till you die.

did you see the pattern? it starts to make you dizzy after a while, doesn't it? This is a common problem and fairly easy to break out of. Just chop up the sentences and glue them together.

*ahem* like so:

The sentences follow the same pattern, like this one. Almost like they're circling in a loop forever. There's no escaping. You'll read like this till you die.

same words, with some added/subtracted punctuation. If that doesn't work, rearrange the order, add in some new verbs or adjectives, maybe add a few filler sentences to space the pattern out.

that's all folks, i hope that answered your question, if not feel free to say so! I'm not offended.

xox keep writing!

#writing help #fiction writing #writing tips #writing advice #how to write #writing community #on writing #creative writing #exposition #sentence flow #writing prompt #dialogue prompt #writing ideas #writblr #requests #anon ask #thanks anon!

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danosrosegarden · 25 days ago

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Elijah listen to me ELIJAH SHAKES YOU VIGOROUSLY BY THE SHOULDERS EDWARD NASHTON COCK WORHSIP OKAY? HE’S INSECURE AND THE PRAISE AND ATTENTION MAKES HIM SUBMISSIVE AND SHY can anybody hear me

i hear u so clear, my introspective moo...

and oh em gee would u believe it...it's masc reader!

♡ FIRSTLY. it takes a good, thick chunk of time and a flowering bushel of trust to even get him to take his pants off. he dreams about intimacy with you! you're stunning, you're perfect, he truly cannot believe he gets to spend his life with a guy like you! pinching himself isn't even adequate to make him believe that he's not dreaming! but holy christ is he so so scared! it looms over him like a thundering stormcloud. he's gonna have to face his fears at some point, and he's gonna fuck something up like he always does. you're gonna leave thinking he's a loser. edweird, who can't even get his boyfriend off. you'd think he'd feel a bit more confident considering all the ~quality time~ he's spent with himself. he should know how to twist his hand and swirl his tongue and he's basically doing the metaphorical equivalent of punching himself in the dick and going STUPID STUPID STUPID whenever he once again shies away from your advances.

♡ it's lots of fun getting to run your fingers through his hair and kiss him long and deep, and you're doing your best trying to invite him into something more. there's a clear roadblock, and the more time you spend with him, the more you chip and break away at his walls and discover what's festering inside.

♡ he came from the barren, the painful, the impossibly cold and quiet lonely. he talks of his past and his work and his daily chores with such empty, sad eyes. he does not know the warmth of kind, compassionate words. you were the first.

♡ it's a great honor, but it's also a hefty responsibility. he clings to you like you'll disintegrate if his fingers slip. and when he finally does piece together the trembling courage to vaguely ask would you like to?, you decide that it'll focus on him.

♡ his face burns crimson when you loop your fingers through the belt of his pants and help him shimmy out. he's ultra squirmy. you want to chuckle at his completely unnecessary quivering and almost depressing apologies, but you fear he'd take it as a jab. the truth is, he's already doing perfectly. he's gentle and kind and thoughtful and there's such a quiet, comforting, sentimental aura surrounding him. it was all so new, but it was almost as if your bodies had known each other for forever.

♡ but edward shatters that thought when you carefully and gently pull his boxers down. you can see the cool air hit him as he takes a long, deep sigh and looks down at you with waiting eyes. "sorry, 'm sorry."

♡ is he apologizing for his dick? is he stupid?

♡ cause let's be real...it would be a gorgeous sight. he's already shaking, a thick dribble of precum leaking down his blushing head. you watch his belly flutter with ragged breaths. he's waiting. waiting for you! fully prepared and stupidly excited to unravel at the seams, just for you! you haven't even touched him and you're already a bit high off the power.

♡ when you finally wrap a gentle hand around him and give him a couple soft, tender strokes, you come to discover quite quickly that he is loud. he tries not to be, but even his body betrays him; his hips roll and his sighs come leaking out from the hand clasped over his mouth. god, he can't believe he made himself wait so long for this. it's heavenly.

♡ he bounces back and forth between looking down at you and becoming humiliated and darting his eyes away. you don't mind. you've already gotten him so loosened up and much more comfortable than he ever was before.

♡ he falls apart completely when you speak. so pretty, eddie. such a pretty cock, all mine to touch. so good for me, ed. there you go, roll your hips for me. don't cover your mouth, i wanna hear you whine. atta boy. there's a good boy. my good, sweet boy.

♡ his brain is almost completely infiltrated by a burning, glowing fuzz at this point. he's lost all of the clinging, dark insecurity that grasped onto each cell of his body so tightly before as he watches your hand glide up and down, over and over. he feels the warmth tightening in his gut and all he can think of is how badly he wants to make you feel like this, too. he wants you down his throat, he wants his hands all over you, he wants you to be his.

♡ he tries to stave off the warm knot balling up inside of him for as long as he can. god, he doesn't want this to ever end! but with all the built up excitement from how new this all is, there's only so much holding off he can manage.

♡ you already know with edward's cum, there's ropes and ropes of it and he's ending the way he started: apologizing, meekly and with reddened cheeks.

♡ you wish you could etch into his mind that there truly is no need: what a gorgeous spectacle he put on! such a lovely blushy cock and adorable whimpers and lord, he's just so perfectly malleable when he's drunk off the feeling.

♡ there's so much more to explore with him. for now, you'll clean him up and let him nuzzle into the crook of your neck and you'll be proud, endlessly proud of him for letting you take his hand and walk with him into something so beautifully intimate.

#eli's writing #danonation #paul dano #edward nashton #the riddler #the batman #edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #edward nashton x you #the riddler x you #edward nashton x y/n #the riddler x y/n

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tripleglitchwriting · 1 year ago

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Ignition (Short 1)

CW: mostly fluff, mentions of war (both human and cybertronian)

Because I accidentally set the poll to a week rather than a day, I’m going to bridge the gap with a short story.

This is set shortly after part 4 because I like writing dialogue.

After the initial heart attack that was the last 48 hours or so, you began to feel more comfortable with this giant alien. He was kind, which was something you figured out after he saved your life, and he assured you he wasn’t going to kill you.

Now you were cupped in his hands while he walked back to this pod of his.

“So, what’s this pod thing we’re going to? Is it like a space ship?”

“Escape pod.” Ratchet remembered the crash. Well, he remembered what he could of it. Suddenly an old worry popped into his head.

“Right, right, escape pod.”

“Your injury, it wasn’t from… the crash, was it?”

“Oh, no, I fell down a cliff. It sounds stupid when I say it out loud.” Ratchet stifled an ex-vent of relief. “I was on a hike but I got lost, and then I started to panic because I don’t know how to survive in the wild, and then I panicked too hard and tripped in the worst spot imaginable.”

“You went out into an unknown area with no experience on how to survive there or any contingency plan if things went wrong?” He said with a mix of worry and vague frustration.

“Well there was a path… but there was also cool flowers off the path, and then I saw a rare bird, and then the path was gone. I really don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to come out here, I should have known better. I was doing fine at home I just… I don’t know.”

“Does your kind usually do things like this?”

“No, not really. Just me.”

“I see. Are you… no offense, but are you the dominant species on this planet?”

“What? I mean, I guess, we’re the only ones that can talk and all. That we know of. Actually, it would probably be a shock to the world if they found out about you. Knowing us we’d probably start attacking or something.”

“Attack? Why would you do that?”

“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t, but I’ve taken enough history classes to know as a whole we can be… violent. I hope no one else saw you crash, things could get nasty if they see you as a threat.”

“Thats… quite primitive.”

“Oh, gee thanks.”

“No offense.”

“Probably should have led with that.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Ratchet hummed to himself for a second, and then he began to think out loud. “If they do find me at least I’ll be able to get away…”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well- I- I wouldn’t think your technology is exactly…”

“Not up to par with your superior standards? Well don’t worry about that. We have weapons that can wipe out the world in a span of hours. Every country has their hand over the big red launch button, and if they see you as too much to handle, somebody is going to get blown up.”

“What? That’s- that’s crazy! You mean to say your leaders would sacrifice… how ever many there are of you in a given area just to take me out?”

“They probably wouldn’t do straight to the nuclear option for one of you, but if there were more and they were killing people, then probably yeah. If things work like they do in the movies that is.” Ratchet paused, about to make some snide remark about the primitive violence of the human race, but he stopped when he remembered the history of his own people.

“…I’ll keep myself hidden then.”

“Oh, um, good. I wasn’t really expecting you to accept that so fast.”

“If my own history were any different I might not have.” He sank deeper into thought. “Doe, is there a medical station anywhere near here I can drop you off at?”

“Wait, I thought we were going to your pod?”

“We are, I just… I got caught up in healing you and… look, I’ll be honest, I don’t want you to get hurt. How many of you are there on this planet?”

“I- I don’t know, 7, maybe 8 billion?”

“Billio- scrap.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s fine, it’s nothing. Let’s just… talk about something else.”

“Well, alright I guess.” After you said that, both you and Ratchet stayed silent for an agonizingly awkward minute. You felt the sway of him walking waft through your entire body, a feeling you haven’t even began to get used to. He seemed largely unaware of this, at least to your knowledge, and instead looked forward with a serious expression.

“How about we talk about… the weather. It certainly is sunny today! And there are… uh, a couple clouds… wait, no that’s just a weird tree.”

“You aren’t great at small talk.”

“How about you try then?”

“…no.”

“Oh I see how it is. Fine, you’ll just have to deal with my terrible communication skills.” You took a deep breath, preparing to go on a rant about whatever was on your mind.

“Oh please don’t.”

“Unless you’re going to say something I will.”

“Alright, alright. What do you want me to talk about?”

“That’s up to you, conversation expert.” You smiled smugly up at him. He huffed in return.

For the next five minutes he talked about his life up to this point. His friends, his enemies, glossing over assumedly painful details. In your mind a picture started to form about all of this. He wasn’t just an alien, he was a person. A person with real relationships, real love and loss, real war, real family. You felt silly having not seen it before.

A friend. You’d like to think that’s what you were now, though it was tough to tell based on the way he acted. You wondered who all of his other friends could be, where they were, and you even went as far as to silently wish them well.

Arriving back at the pod, hopping off the hand of a giant alien that saved you from dying the woods, you realized this may have been more than you bargained for.

#transformers #transformers g/t #tripleglitchwrites #g/t #gn human reader #gn reader #ratchet #transformers first contact #human reader

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 year ago

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This is the classiest hacienda style mansion I've ever seen. It's in Los Angeles, California and if you can spare $15.5M it can be yours. Built in 1924, 7bds, 7.5ba, 1.04 acres of land.

The entrance hall. That molding isn't wood, it's like a sculpted plaster.

This sitting room is stunning. Look at the artwork on the beams. Beautiful windows and doors let just enough sunlight in, and that fireplace matches the molding. This home is quality.

This wood doorway matches the ceiling beams. The details in this home are amazing.

Absolutely delightful sunroom that they have set up as a cool office. Love the Mediterranean light fixture.

Beautiful wood walled library. Look at the gold ceiling and that light fixture.

The dining room has a beautiful ceiling, wainscoting, and big windows to the garden. You can see the fountain in the smaller window.

The everyday dining room opens to the patio and look at the built-in planter.

Light, airy kitchen. The lighting choices in this house are superb.

Gracefully curving stairs in a rounded stairwell with lovely stained glass windows.

What a pretty color scheme in the primary bedroom. It's certainly a huge room.

Sitting area opens to a patio.

What a fabulous vintage bath. The tile is so beautiful. Everything looks original.

Large secondary bedroom has doors that open to a balcony.

And, look at this marble bath. Just incredible.

If wasn't for the sofas this would look like a real theater.

Sunken bar open to the pool. I know it doesn't rain much in California, but gee, if it does, that banquette is going to get wet and everything.

This is magnificent.

What a property.

The Mexican tiles are amazing. I bet they're handmade.

Fabulous pond.

The grounds alone are stunning.

Plus, there's a modern studio/library.

Nice sauna, too.

Such attention to detail- look at the clay flower pots going up the stairs.

Outdoor space similar to the glass-enclosed sunroom. Look at the light posts.

Gated entrance with earns lining the wall.

#hacienda style mansion #mediterranean mansion #mansions #houses #house tours #home tour

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glistenxshadowhedgehogyaoi · 1 day ago

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Chapter 4 the date at the vape section in Freddy fazbears Pizza (also Dandy and Freddy beef XD)

Shadow (caked up) was waiting for his alpha ultimate sigma rizzler daddy date to show up, shyly curling his toes and chewing his quills/hair. That's wen he sawed him, in his joyride (blasting joyride by kesha like a boss)

He ran over "Oh em gee hii~!!" He said in a kawaii way "Hi babagrill" Glisten said homosexualityly, mewing and rizzing. They kissed Christianly (so they don't get pregnat) and held hands

"So... what's your favorite Bible verse?" Shadow said "Bible verse? What am I? A losser?" Glisten scoffed. Shadow felt his hart drop. Glisten smirked smirkily "haha, jaykay... probably Matthew 5:29–30"

Shadow smiled "w-w-w-w-wow... y-y-youre chistian too...?" He said shyly, toes curling "yeah I'm totally radical with Jesus Christ" Glisten said (in a zesty and cool way)

Then they kissed again (but christianly so they don't get pregnamt)

Meenwhile..

While Glisten and Shadow were busy with their date, Dandy was storming toward the business, determined to confront Fredy Fazbear about his shitass fuckass smelly ass thumb head lookin toenail huffing booty cheek smellin ashy knee having ass self

He bust down teh door angrily "hey!! Where's the manager !?!" He screeched angrily. The minimum wage employee blinked tiredly "idk bro"

Dandy then unloaded the mag of a Bushmaster AR-15 Semiautomatic Rifle into the employees chest and calmly walked away to go find Fardy Fazbears office (becuse he's the Owner and William doesnt exist in this au)

Fredy was in his office doing paperwork things when some flower bitch stormed in "HEY!" he shrieked annoyingly "hwuh" Freddy looked over with sleep deprivation in his circular seeing organs "YOUR business is more successful than mine and I want to SUE!!!!"

"Do I know you" Freddy said in a baddie way "YOU WILL!!!!" Dandy did a backflip "Oh hey wait arnt you that one guy tbat my bestie westie astro doesnt like?" Freddy axed

"Uuuuh.." Dandy looked awkwad, and then parkored away

"Ok" feddy continued doing important boss paperwork

"Grr I'll get you" Dandy said feeling his devil horns Growed in.......

To be continued...................... mwehehe

#dro #dark reflections #blackmirrorfic #shadow x glisten #Dandy freddy beef arc

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nikkiiiscute · 11 months ago

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One Headcanon for everyone one in the neighborhood! (Except for u Home D:<)

Note that this is when everyone was still alive / human sooooo yeah.

🍎Wallace would sometimes weirdly talk to the puppets and would call them by his friends' real names. Example : "Julia's hair is soft today, Right Barnabus?... Yeah she's like a.. Hair master, hehehehe" "Said something about my hair? uhhhh.. Dory (Dory is a nickname for devil dorelaine) said not to touch the puppets during lunch... Hello? Wally?"

🐶Barnabus likes to have an airhorn to sneakily sneak up and it's kinda like this, "BWAAAAAHH!! hahahaha, I'm never getting tired of Aira" "*huff huff* First.. YOU KNOW I CAN'T STAND NOISE!!! Second... You.. Named your airhorn Aira? Third... Your paying for my book.. Do you have a 50? Thank you." "Aaalright alright sorry, Ayy how ya doin lil buddy?... Ehh.. Wally?"

🌸Julia would often give people nicknames that are fun (and may or may not be from Jonas (Jonesy) heres a look. "Hiya Bya! Sup Franko! You too Eeedee! Hello Popsie, good day to ya! Lookin good Barney! Howdy Howdy! Oh hi walls, Said something about my hair? uhhhh.. Dory said not to touch the puppets during lunch... Hello? Wally?"

☀️Byeol / Sally will come up with episode concepts with sammy Julia as they got a good story to tell and would show it to Dorelaine as an Episode Proposal kinda like this, "Ronald Dorelaine, What do you think of our most Astounding, Most Remarkable episode?" "Hope ya like it Dory! I like a new side character move in :>" "Oh just in time! What is your Creative Brain thinking about this Spectacular Script huh Wallace?"

🦋Frank will always have a book or two during Lunch Breaks so they can keep up with entomology / lepidoptorology while on the job, Why not we take a look? "Hiya darling, What's the new topic? Is it okay if I can see?" "It's about Chimeras, It's a rare thing with butterflies that can give them Asymmetrical Wings and yes dear, you can see the pages" "How you two lovebirds doin?" "Hiya Howdy, Doing great. Say, Do you know any sneak peaks for the new episode?" "Nada, But I got one more readin' buddy! Say, How'd ya like to know things about my favorite bug? ay Wally? "

✉️Eddie is clumsy in work, It's obvious that Byeol added this trait cuz he would ACTUALLY trip on set. Here's a nice preview. "Hiya Frank! I got the package ya- AAGH!! oof!... I'm A -Okay!" "CUUUUTTT!!! Eddie, You really need to stop being a klutz or else it will fuse into your characte- Ohhhh! That needs to be written down, this WILL be added to your character! Now I'll just ask Dorelaine for approval" "Aaand there's my clumsiness fused into Mr. Dear. Which is actually kinda cool. Ya hands still sweating Wally?"

🐛Howard is the person that prepares the sets and Eddie helps out, I feel like Howard would be indecisive about how the layout of it should be, Heres a snippet. "Gee.. I-I dunno if the flowers should be pansies or marigolds..Uhhhh I think both! then it'll be the main focu- THAGHH!! I CAN'T THINK OF A LAYOUT!!" "Ay! ay! Calm down Howdy! ya just need some brain rest and actual rest, Ya stayed up 'till 4! I think the 'Bodeguero' thing is getting to ya head. So, Whaddya say?" "uhhh, Sure thing barn. EDDIE!! TELL DORY THAT I NEED A BREAK!! AND TELL DORY MS. PERDIZ'S NOT FEELIN' WELL AIGHT!?" "Got that covered!" "*heavy exhale*... Oh howdy - do lil guy.. Didn't notice ya Walls"

🐦Poppy is prolly the one with the sewing / repair puppets as she can do the job either at Home or Work cuz she's convalescent like my mom. So she's rarely in the Poppy suit and Voice Acting, That's why Partridge is rarely seen. Last part I swear. "Hello dearies, I'm back from my doctor's appointment." "Hiya mothe- I mean! Ms. Perdiz! How's your stomach doin?" "Doing well dearie! now, you said something about Mr. Darling puppet having a tear? Hello? dearie are you okay? Mr. Darryl? Wallace?"

❌ Samuel is dead, He has no info on him. We are so sorry.

#welcome home #julie joyful #eddie dear #frank frankly #wally darling #poppy partridge #sally starlet #barnaby b beagle #howdy pillar #welcome home theory

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bigbucksbailey · 4 days ago

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Fanfic: Benny Bread Stick x reader (y/n)

CW: weird, butchered Italian, semi-naked men, potty language, I’ve written worse.

Summary: After a recent breakup you head to Olive Garden to drown your sorrows in some authentic Italian cuisine; only to find that the food WAS in fact made with love.

Chapter 1: Bready, Set, GO!

“Table for one please,” I say sadly to the hostess at the front of the Olive Garden. Today has been the worst. Day. EVER!!

First, I got broken up with by my boyfriend because of some stupid misunderstanding. Second, I get FIRED from my job because I said that the third Alvin and the chipmunks is better than the second.

And THIRD, I’m now eating at probably the worst food establishment in the area, a crummy Olive Garden in the back lot of a Lowe’s store.

The hostess looks me up and down before grabbing a menu, her eyes sharp as they silently judge me. “Follow me…” she says hesitantly, like I’m disgusting for even stepping foot in this restaurant. She’s kind of right, though. Right now I'm dressed in a white blouse and coffee stained khakis– far too overdressed for Olive Garden.

I follow the hostess to a back booth, my head on a swivel as I try to find at least one other diner in the restaurant.

“It’s pretty slow today,” the hostess says like she somehow read my mind, setting my menu down on the table, “You’re also the only one here because it’s 11 at night.”

I look up at the italian clock on the wall (???), was it really that late? I’m now 2x as embarrassed to be here.

“Sorry,” I mumble, taking a seat at the booth, “Can I just have some wine? The purple one…….. (idk alcohol)”

“Ya,” the hostess says, “your waiter will be right back with that.” and then she kinda walked away.

That was fine though, I was now alone with my thoughts, my menu, and– a kids menu??? The hostess snuck a KIDS menu into my own?!?

I would have been OUTRAGED if it weren't for the fact I was too tired to argue, instead I hesitantly opened the paper menu, my eyes scanning the white, uncolored pages and the cute pictures littering the booklet. Actually, this was kinda awesome.

“Heres your goober berry sundae,” the waiter said as he set a glass of white and purple wine on the table, placing the bottle next to it, “Do you know what you want 2 order?”

“Ya,” I say, before realizing no I dont “I mean nah”

“Ok”

And Im left alone again. Boy golly this is boring, until an incredibly HOT, SWEATY, MUSCULAR, HALF NAKED (??? does this happen at olive garden) WAITRE strides his sexy hips past me, swinging his fine ass around. I QUICKLY crawl ontop of the table, situating myself to look absolutely irresistible.

“Yoohoo~” I call cutely, waving at the waiter.

The waiter turns around with a bewildered expression, shielding his naked nips from me.

“Sorry, Im kind of indecent rn.”

“Thats cool…” I say back

He flushes like a strawberry and giggles, “I’ll be back!!” before running away on his tippy toes. That was probably the worst thing I've ever seen.

“I gotta get out of here!!” I say quietly, looking around frantically before spotting the SALAD BAR. Of COURSE! I can hide in there!

I book it to the salad bar and do a perfect back spring hand um I jump back there and duck down behind the breadstick bowl–oh hey! Breadsticks!

I wiggle my fingers above the last breadstick like a little menace, “dont mind if I do,” I say with an evil chuckle, that is, until the half naked WAITER COMES BACK!!

I duck down, peaking over the salad bar as the waiter goes to my booth with a handful of dried spaghetti with meatball flowers, its kind of poetic and beautiful, but I cant let myself be whisked away by the shirtless Olive Garden employee. I havent hit rock bottom just yet.

I hear him let out a loud cry before falling to his knees in agony, the other employees rushing over to comfort the half naked man. I gulp, oh gee they were going to try and find me now!

“I was by the door! Theres no way that customer escaped!” the hoestles yells. son of a bitch.

“Lets split up and look for clues” some blonde kif with brown roots and vans on says, oh god im toast!

I remain behind the salad bar, among the discarded lettuce and tomatoes on the floor. Its going to be a long night. My stomach gurgles hungerly and I think back to the juicy, moist, buttery breadstick sitting on top of the salad bar.

God it’ll be worth it to get that thing in my mouth.

I lift my hand and fumble around looking for the breadstick, before my hand touches the wet bread and I kind of moan (but quietly).

“Come to (unspecified parent)” I giggle, lowering the breadstick to my mouth and placing it between my teeth before an “aiiiiiEEEEE!” erupts from the BREADSTICK?!?

“What the?!?” I whisper yell, pulling the breadstick away from my mouth to reveal a beautiful, slender, italian breadstick. His eyes a dark, brown, glowing prettiliy in the salad bar light, and his mustache curled just perfectly at the ends.

It was the most beautiful breadstick ive ever seen.

“S-s-s” I try to say sorry, but the words wouldnt come out, it was hard to think seeing the buttered breadstick covered in a string of my saliva.

“Whatsa the problem?!” He says, wriggling in my hands, “Distrubina my beauty sleep!”

“I’m..” I gulp, was it normal to be so hung up on a breadstick? “I’m sorry, sir…”

The breaststick grins, finally removing itself from my grip and landing on the floor, he hoists himself up and hops around like larry the cucumber from veggietales.

“Mio Tesoro, whata reason do you have behind the salad bar at this hour?” he freezes, eyeing me suspiciously, “Are you a thief?!”

“No! No no…not a thief…”

The breadsticks eyebrows furrow in worry, he hops closer to me, leaving a trail of bread behind him, “It takes an awful mood to be behind here then. Mio pomodoro, tella Bene whats wrong..”

I slump down, my eyes welling up with tears. “I lost my job, and my boyfriend, and now im behind a salad bar at fucking olive garden talking to a sexy breadshit.”

Bene Breadstick freezes at this, his face blushing tomato red at my words, “s-sexy? A me?”

I blush too, my eyes raking over bene breadstick once more. He really was gorgeous in this lighting, coated in a layer of butter and salt, perfectly cooked to give him a slender, crunch to him. My eyes pause at his slightly burnt stump, god I wished he was in my mouth right now.

“Y-yes…” I say, flushing more, “You…you are sexy….”

Bene giggles, hopping onto my lap, “Yes? You think so, mio pomodoro?”

He begins to do a weird shimmy on my lap, I think hes trying to be sexier, but its honestly disturbing. I pick bene up gently, raising him to my face.

“I think youre a lot of things, Bene. Youre beautiful, smart, awesome, and…and I think I’ve fallen for you…” I cant believe what im saying.

Bene grins impossibly bigger, bringing his breadstick face close to mine, “show me you love me, mio pomodoro.”

I nod furiously and lean in, pressing my lips to his own buttery ones. He tastes like salt and butter, leaving my lips coated in a layer of his natural oils. I pull back from the short kiss, licking my lips and moaning at the taste.

Bene smirks, his mustache twitching, “Do you like the taste, Mio Tesoro? You tasted just as-a well.”

I nod helplessly, longing for the touch of another after the brutal breakup with my boyfriend.

Like 4 part 2

#fanfic #writing #olive garden #fluff #hurt/comfort #smut #ao3 #not srs

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world-class-pizza-pals · 5 months ago

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You should definitely use your clone oc’s that would be so cool, fucked up clones are so cool)

[And now with the permission of the faker himself-]

[A green hand shoots out from a nearby crevice, grabbing Coneboy and yanking him in- Wait. There was never a secret here, where are they...]

WHAA-

[Its dark.]

{🍕} Hey, hey kiddo! Calm down, gee-

WHO ARE YOU?! WHERE AM I-?!

{🍕} Just a little hidey place. Speaking of hide..

[The owner of the green hand walked under a hanging lightbulb, revealing himself to be a .... Strange pizzahead clone.]

{🍕} Yo.

HUH-?!

[Coneboy was scared- why did this man seem so familiar?! Like someone he had lost?]

{🍕} Ah shit. Rainbow, I spooked the kid.

{🌈} Jesus christ, Charteuse- Cant you not scare every kid you come across?!

{🍼} DUMBY IDIOT!!!!

{🌈} Baby, thats mean.

{🍕} I feel so hurt.

{🍼} BLLEHHHH!!!!!

{🎭} Well, well, what have we here..?

{🍕} .... Sinsy.

{🎭} Char.

[The group of clones slowly revealed themselces, one by one. There was a rainbow pepperman who had a smaller, more normal pepperman atop his head. A lanky noisette that resembled a butterfly. Two noises, one of which had an abundance of eyes, especially on his cape - the other who looked like.. a completely normal noise. Then a red pizzard, then a small peppino clone covered in flowers.]

[Coneboy was horribly overwhelmed by the influx of characters.]

#coneboy answers #misc. clones answer #im not making a tag for every single one of them

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meringuecream7 · 2 months ago

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A Lovable Hummingbird in 100 Years || Chapter 11: Writing a Song in the Park

It had been days since Brenda did not come back. George was still concerned about his wife’s departure. He sent Susie to school and sat down on his chair.

Gee, he said to himself as he placed a picture of his wife in a pretty, crimson dress and hat. I can’t imagine if Brenda left me like forever.

Suddenly, the mailbox has a letter inside. George quickly went outside and opened the mailbox’s door. He quickly took out a letter, shut the mailbox’s door, and went back to his house. The envelope has a lipstick kiss stain and a calligraphed writing of his name on it. George opened the letter and read it:

‘Dear George, I hope you took good care of Susie. I’ve done a few shows in every capital of the country for days, and this time, I’ll take a break. Meet me at the pier. Tomorrow, I’m going to the theater with your sister and the band she attended. - Hope it suits you well, Brenda’

George hugged the letter and sighed lovingly. Then he began to feel concerned. If I left the house, Susie wouldn’t know where I was, he thought. But Brenda invited me to the pier. She looked nice in that red dress. If only I wrote a song about– wait.

He glances at his guitar. This gives him an idea. That’s it! he thought. I’ll just look at some nicely delightful things that remind me of her. Then I’ll come back at 15:00.

With that, he grabbed his guitar, put it in a special case, and carried it on his back. George puts on his boater hat, makes a beeline through the door, and notices a piece of paper and a pen lying down on the table. He goes back to pick them up.

Can’t forget those, he said to himself as he picked them up, folded the paper, put them in his vest pocket, darted for the exit, and shut the door behind him.

While he was on his way to Central Park, George could see some flowers on their flowerpots on the houses. This reminded him of his childhood.

Poppy and I were running down the sidewalk and squabbling over each other, he thought. Poppy held out a notebook and began bragging about me being in love with Brenda. So she scanned some things for some delightful thoughts of Brenda; blossoms and clouds. Well, I think that it was one year. And the cool summer breeze and the leaves of a clover thing took us ten years. Maybe I should rewrite them by memory. Poppy took her notebook with her.

When he reached Central Park, he spotted the tree he saw when he was a child and sat down underneath it. He opened his guitar case and held the guitar safely in his hands. He then took the pen and paper out of his vest pocket and unfolded the paper.

The tune shall be B minor, he thought as he wrote down some notes on the paper.

He then strummed on his guitar and beautifully sang the said lyrics on the paper he wrote on. Then he heard a couple on the bench say:

“Is that the man who is singing a song for his lover?”

“He’s definitely crazy.”

“And indeed mad about her.”

But George ignored them for a moment. He kept on singing and strumming. Finally, he heard a word of the couple.

Maybe that’s what they kept on calling me when I was a kid, he thought. Crazy and mad.

He then wrote down on the piece of paper with a hint of key change.

‘They call me crazy, they call me mad,’ he wrote down.

He then enters a world of thought. What rhymes with ‘mad’? he asked himself.

Then, he saw a woman take out some money, place it on his guitar case, and leave. George dropped the guitar and looked behind the tree to watch her leave.

Brenda? he thought.

Then he looked at the money she had dropped and picked it up.

“$3 and 50 cents,” he read as he sashed them in his vest pocket.

She was all that I had, he thought to himself. Wait. ‘Had'! ‘Had’ rhymes with ‘mad’!

George then wrote down ‘The day you left me, you were all that I had’ in the paper. He picked up the guitar, put it in its case, picked it up, folded the paper, sashed it in his vest pocket with the pen – along with the money, and began to wait, feeling a little bit concerned.

When he reached the pier, he could see his wife, laying her hands on the balcony. He set his guitar case aside and went to Brenda.

“Hello, George,” she chuckled. “I’m so glad you came back.”

“Hi, honey,” George laughed. “It’s kinda weird when you had a day off.”

“I know. I have been doing a few shows in every capital of the country, but I’m gonna finish the whole 50 states of America. And that one will be the final one: New York. But, I wanna take a break. Dancing all day gives me hard work.”

She held out her hand to George. “Wanna dance for a moment? I haven't danced with you for days.”

George nodded and began to dance with her. They shimmied, swayed, and tapped to the rhythm of the music.

“I’ve never danced with you for days!” George exclaimed as he twirled Brenda around.

They danced all the way through until they stopped. “Dancing with you is a lot of fun,” cooed Brenda as she held George’s hands.

“I know,” George replied. “It had been days since you left for the shows.”

Brenda smiled and leaned in for a kiss. George looked at the clock. It was almost 15:00!

“Uh, Brenda?” he asked.

“Yes?” Brenda responded. “What do you need? I’m all ears.”

“Well...” George began as he took a deep breath and said at the speed of a hummingbird (which Poppy did when she and George were children). “I’m returning home so please let me know when you reach the theater with my sister and her crew. Love ya. Byee!”

With that, he grabbed his guitar case and sped off. Brenda looked at him, smiled, and blew a kiss, which George reached out his hand and pretended to grab it.

When he returned home, George placed his guitar case on the doorframe, took out the pen and paper, and began writing ‘But I remember the smile you gave and the bad days became brighter, I hope the best though we’re not together’ until Susie comes back home. She looks at her father holding the song and curiously tilts her head.

“Whatcha writin’, Daddy?” she asked as she pointed to the piece of paper.

George hid the song behind his back and replied, “I wrote a song. For your mother. You can start changing your clothes now, I’m making dinner soon.”

Susie skipped upstairs to change her clothes while George went to the kitchen to make carrot soup. He knows the recipe by looking at the book but thinking of Brenda distracts him.

If I can’t stop thinking about Brenda, the soup will be a disaster, thought George as he cut the carrots and put them in a pot of boiling water.

He then stirred the carrots, added olive oil, and made the broth smoother so that the carrot soup would be more delicious. After adding pepper, a hint of salt, and all of the creamy stirs, the soup is ready. George brought the soup to the table and called Susie – who was in her regular clothing – for dinner. He and his daughter sat down at the table and began to eat the soup.

“So,” George began, “did you do something new at school?”

“Well, yes,” replied Susie. “I made a new friend named Dave. Dave Clover. He’s bullied by three of the students and his cousin came to protect him. When it was recess session, I accidentally bumped into him. That’s how I met him.”

She finished her soup and wiped her face with a napkin. “The soup is tasty.”

“Thanks,” said George as he picked up the bowls to wash them. “Why don’t you study your book report?”

Susie nodded, took her book with her, and went upstairs. George went to the kitchen sink to wash the bowls while thinking to himself.

I feel... he thought.

But Susie interrupted his thoughts by asking, “Who is Charlotte?”

“Oh, uh,” stammered George as he came up with an answer he could think of. “She’s a spider who makes friends with Wilbur.”

“Oh.” Susie then smiled. “Okay.”

Then she went back upstairs to her room, while George kept cleaning the house while humming the song he had written. When he was finished, he went upstairs to check on Susie, whose head was on the pages. She fell into a deep slumber. George put his hand over his mouth to stifle a giggle, put the blanket over her, and planted a gentle kiss her cheek. Then it reminded him of something.

I slept while working on the song when I was a child, he thought. Now I remember how this part of my childhood was like...

He yawned a long yawn. It was too late to finish his sentence. Then, the mailbox was full with one letter. George opened the mailbox’s door, grabbed the letter, and shut the mailbox’s door. He then opened the letter. It was from his mother – Adele. The letter said:

‘Dear George, I have some gruesome news and some delightful news to tell you. The gruesome news is your father died in World War I before you raised a child with your darling wife. And the delightful news is that your sister is now a jazz club member! I hope that you’re still safe. - Love, Adele.’

George felt sad about his father’s death. But he remembered Brenda’s smile like the lyric he wrote.

Let’s remember that smile turning the bad days brighter ones, he said to himself as he went back to his home.

He still felt heavy-hearted about his father’s death, but remembers Brenda’s smile anyway.

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Chapter 15 Chapter 16

#clover or3o #clover2020 #clover george #clover brenda #clover Susie #a lovable hummingbird in 100 Years #fanfiction #fanfic

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