#got a cheap set today just to try it out and I FUCKING LOVE IT ????

[lambhouse]

friendship with watercolors is over, gouache is my new best friend now

[thesassypadawan]

Make Them Blue (A.J. X FemReader) *Blurb*

Summary:  It’s No Nut November and, like every year, your smooth criminal and the rest of his goodfellas are having a friendly competition.  Starting out strong aka avoiding you like the plague, he unfortunately falls when he comes home early on laundry day.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut.  Fun from behind (giddy up), a washing machine, dom Man With The Plan, slight making fun of hat, and… A.J.’s big, fat dick.

Notes: Happy No Nut November all you, lovelies! 🤍💙

- “All right, gentlemen…  End of the month, ante up…  Let’s see that cash…”

- Perched on the arm of his chair, you watch with mild interest as each took a turn.  Poking fun, taking cheap jabs at one another.  Retelling their own screw-up stories while they slowly make it around the circle.  Setting varying stacks on the table along the way…fanning them out for all to see who lost worse.

- So far the amounts haven't been too exorbitant, at least not in terms for these goodfellas.  A cool thousand here, an easy two there…even two and a half.  However, when it finally came to your smooth criminal's turn.

- “Five…grand?  FIVE GRAND?!”  Jake exclaims, smacking A.J firmly on the back.  Shaking his head, laughing heartedly with the rest of the guys.  “How the mighty have fallen!  Man, this got to be good!”

- “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles.  Setting his hat on the table, you run a hand through those fluffy locks.  “Well…”  While he accidentally reaches for your drink instead; making a slight, knowing face the second the taste washes over his tongue. “…I blame stupid laundry day.”

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

- Groaning above; he pins, presses you against the washer.  Inked arms caging you in on both sides.  He mutters low, gruffly; dragging his cock between your soaked folds  agonizingly slow.  “Walkin’ around the apartment, wearin’ MY shirt…nothin’ else?  Fuck…killin’ me, doll.”

- “So-Sorry…”  You barely manage to stammer out.  Fingers scrabbling at the cool, smooth surface.  Trying to center, but losing yourself more and more from the continuous jostling of the machine on your pleasure button.  From his fat tip teasing, occasionally catching on the rim of your needy hole.  “Not my fault that…that…”

- A loud, dry sob falls from your lips as he suddenly slams into…stretches, spreads you onto his thick length.  Almost feral growl rumbles in his chest when your gummy walls clench, grip in response.  “Bullshit, don’t lie to me!”

- Wasting no time, not giving you a moment to adjust; he sets a fast pace.  “Ya knew exactly what you were doin’…”  Pounding away roughly, brutally.  Nearly bottoming out with each wild drive.  Undoubtedly bruising your poor hips and backside.  “Workin’ me up, so ya could get what ya want…”

- Big hands grasp the rounded sides…hard.  Hard enough for his knuckles to turn white; to create small, slight dents.  “That’s it, huh?”  Giving himself the extra leverage needed to sink deeper; hit, bully your cervix.  Punching the air, weak gasps from your lungs.  “Admit it…say it…SAY IT!” 

- Tears fill, sting at the corners of your eyes.  Coil in your stomach wound so tight, slick running down your thighs.  “Jay, s-swear…didn’t think you’d be home to-today!”  Nails scratch frantically at the lid, a few chipping, breaking.  Leaving knicks and marks of pearly pink in their wake.  “Just wanted to…to get a few lo-”

- “You’re gettin’ a few loads, all right,” he grunts.  Speeding up further, putting his full weight behind those harsh thrusts.  “‘Til my balls are dry…”  You can feel him twitch, throb.  “‘Til I make sure we still win that money…”  Know that he’s about to pump you full, to the absolute brim.  That it’s too late to stop him from taking the biggest gamble of your lives.  “Somehow…”

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

- “Somehow,” Jake echoes and scoffs.  Placing the smallest bundle on the pile, smirking at you two.  “Okay, let’s hear this ‘somehow’…before I collect my winnings.”

- “Go on, angel…tell ‘em,” A.J. chuckles.  Tapping your bottom affectionately, smiling up at you encouragingly.  “Explain why you’ve been nursin’ a pop all night.”

- Without hesitation, you fish something small out from between your cleavage.  “Might want to consider donating that jackpot…”  Happily setting the positive on the table, mischievous grin on your face.  “…uncle.”

- Minute or two of silence falls over the group, followed by… 

- “You know what, here…”  Scooping up all the cash, Jake generously plops it into the upturned hat.  “Take it, get the kid whatever they need…just make sure it ain’t one of those ugly ass things.”

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[sunflowerwinds]

only on camera | e.w

summary: you and your girlfriend, ellie, find an old camcorder at local thrift store. it’s fun, domestic, and sweet until the two of you decide to use it to make your own personal movie.

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

contains: mature content, modern! ellie, established relationship, fluff, smut— oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), reader and ellie are roughly 19-20, ellie is obsessed with reader, reader is described to have a soft stomach and stretch marks so its open to all body types.

word count: 3.3K

a/n: i’ve been debating to post another ellie oneshot and even writing anymore for a while now because of everything that has been going on gaza. i hope you guys click on the links below to educate and keep yourself updated on the horrors that the people of gaza are going through. free palestine.

FREE PALESTINE | DAILY CLICK | DO NOT BUY TLOU2 REMASTERED

It started on a simple thrifting date.

You and Ellie often shopped at your local thrift stores for a multitude of reasons: it's cheap for not only clothing but accessories as well. You had a slight addiction to the purse and jeans section. There was nothing you loved more than finding a good pair of jeans.

But today, you decided to linger in the electronics section. Ellie trailed behind you with a shopping cart that already had a bunch of pants and cheesy graphic tees for the two of you to try on.

You picked up a small speaker, examining it for its quality.

“Ellie?” You hum to Ellie who was already holding up a chunky VHS camera.

“Babe, check this out,” Ellie walked around the cart to hold up the flipped screen to you.

You set the speaker down on the metal shelf, leaning over to see that the early late 90’s camera was still working properly. With just your luck, too, there were a few tapes next to where Ellie had picked it up from.

“Holy shit, this still works?” You grin as you fidget with the settings. “Should we get this?”

Ellie let out a scoff before nodding: “Fuck yeah. We could record videos to look back on when we’re miserable and old as shit. Like thirty or something.”

You shake your head at her dramatics.

“Thirty is not old but yeah, it could be fun.” You lean into her side, pointing to the tapes and charger that were still plugged into the camcorder. “Grab the tapes, please?”

You tilt your head with a smile at her. Ellie blushes at the eye contact you made with her, kissing your cheek before taking the tapes and charger into her hands. She nervously scratched at her ear as she set the objects into the cart where the child seat was, hoping you didn't see how pink her cheeks turned.

God, she was so adorable.

She would deny the accusation constantly with a shake of her head and a mutter of ‘no, I’m not’ being the stubborn girl she is.

After trying that on all of the clothing, you ended up only narrowing down to a few pairs of jeans and the camera plus the equipment. Once you got back to Ellie’s place, it started out with a few recordings of you doing nothing.

“So, vlog, my beautiful, hot, and sexy girlfriend is getting ready for the day,” Ellie pressed record and held up the camera to you who was applying sunscreen to your freshly washed face. “Not that she needs to because, damn, look at her.”

You let out a groan as you shake your head, now applying your moisturizer right after.

“Babe, you can record at any other time. Why right now?” You chuckle as she just gets closer, zooming into your eyes.

“What do you have to say to your future self who is probably already very happily married to me?” Ellie ignores your complaint, grinning as she backs up a little to get your entire face into the frame.

“Is she still giving that good top?” You deadpan to which Ellie chuckles at.

“I wish I could stop, baby,” she cups your face with one hand, smirking from behind the camera.

“Els,’” you trail off, almost warningly as your cheeks flushed.

Without missing a beat, you playfully slap the camera out gently of your face. Ellie dramatically gasps at your actions, holding the camera at an angle so she can clean the lens with her black wife pleaser.

“Hey! You brought it up.” She shrugged her shoulders as if it were nothing, showing off her outfit in the full-body mirror on the back of the bedroom door.

You smile adoringly at her from your set-up in your vanity mirror, hearing her hype herself up. You had just applied a good amount of your base before motioning for her to come over to you once again. Ellie walked over to you, grinning happily.

“It’s your turn, Els,” you grab the chunky camera from her.

She reluctantly lets you take it from her and crosses her arms in front of her chest, looking at you patiently. You pan the camera up and down as she was wearing a very basic outfit but damn, she always looked good. The way she crossed her arms accentuated her biceps and the big tattoo on her forearm.

“What do you have to say to your future self, baby?” You look at her through the small screen and then at her in real life.

Ellie hummed as she scratched at her jaw. The awful lighting from just your open-blind window made it more homey to you.

“You better not fuck it up with this perfect girl right here.” Ellie points to you with a slight grin as she notices your own smile from behind the camera.

A lot of the videos were just like that. Domestic and homey as the locations changed between your house and hers. Joel even made a few appearances like, for instance, his 58th birthday. All of your family and Joel’s threw a barbecue to which you and Ellie had traded interviewing your sides of the family.

Sarah gave a few loving words for her dad, Jesse, and Dina covered the lens the entire time Ellie tried to record them, and your parents made a few jokes about him being ‘damn near in the grave already.’

Now, you were standing in front of Joel who was working the grill. Ellie was busy already tearing into a few hot dogs so you took the time to ask him some questions.

“So, Joel, how do you feel being fifty-eight?” You record him.

“I feel the same as last year. Ain’t nothin’ special,” he shook his head as if you were bothering him but you knew he was just being a grump for the camera.

“Well, birthday boy, describe what it's like being almost sixty,” you chuckle as he places a hand on his hip, looking at you this time with raised brows.

“Old as hell. Now, here, eat.” He grumbled as he grabbed a hot dog for you and placed it on a paper plate.

You giggled as his southern accent was hilarious when he got all grumpy. He just sounded like a Texan grandpa who’s always complaining about kids these days.

“I figured. Happy birthday, Joel.” You warmly smile at him as you shut the small screen and walk over to hug him.

He tensed for a moment, holding the tongs out of the way. He relaxed into your embrace before pointing at your hot dog.

“Thanks, kid. Now, eat before the damn flies get to it first.” Joel kissed the top of your head before releasing your body.

You let out a soft laugh as you grabbed the white plate before walking over to where Ellie was sitting with her step-sister, Sarah. You send Sarah a smile as you set the camera down next to Ellie, watching her lick the mustard off of her fingers. You grimace at her messy eating before Sarah tells her to stop being gross.

Ellie put her middle finger up at her with an annoyed expression. You grabbed her finger and put it down as your parents were only a few feet away from the two of you.

A few more days passed and you and Ellie had a rather sensual make-out session in her bedroom. Her hands were already up your Beatles oversized t-shirt, the feeling of her palms groping at your tits sending shivers up your spine. You were underneath her, your own hands cupping the sides of her face as you moaned softly into her mouth.

Ellie pulled away suddenly which only caused you to whine, missing her touch.

“Can I get the camera, baby?” She asked you, moving one of her hands down to your hips underneath your shirt and squeezing the flesh.

You nod your head frantically, not even hesitating. The idea was brought up maybe two minutes after purchasing the camera. Ellie said it as a joke but you knew that you would make a million sex tapes with your girl. She made you feel like the sexiest version of yourself and you were curious to see what that looked like on video. Plus, no risk of it getting stuck on the cloud of either of your phones.

Ellie leaned down to peck your lips as she stood up from her bed to grab it from the top of her dresser, right next to her cologne. You sit up slightly as you wait patiently for her to start the camera fixing your hair a bit. You knew the footage was solely going to be between you and her but it didn't hurt to try and make sure you look good.

“Look at my pretty girl,” Ellie’s voice is dripping in lust as she points the lens directly at your flushed and panting figure on the bed.

You somehow managed to blush even more, practically beaming at her compliment. You didn't know what to do now that it was a reality. All you were doing was looking up at her from her standing figure.

How did pornstars do this?

“What do you want me to do, hmm?” Ellie cupped your cheek, her inked arm coming into the frame.

Your face leaned into her touch, sighing at the feeling. Her thumb teasing ran over the swollen skin of your bottom lip. Being the horny shit you were, your jaw fell open in hopes Ellie would slip the finger into your awaiting mouth.

But no; she continued to trace the supple skin with a cocky grin on her face.

“You want my finger, baby?” Ellie hums as she tightens her grip ever so slightly.

“Maybe.” You raise your brows, your pupils blown with desire practically giving you away.

“Maybe?” She looks at you with her head tilted, her own brows raised to match yours. “The way you instantly opened your mouth said something way different.”

You shake your head and take her thumb into your mouth seconds after that, sucking on it with a smile. Ellie muttered a curse under her breath as she watched you through the pixelated screen, wondering how she got so lucky with you.

You, being the tease you are, pull away after about a minute to look up at her with need in your eyes. While still looking up at her, you removed your oversized tee to reveal your bare chest. Your hair settled over your shoulders, framing your face perfectly. You were only in your cheeky cotton maroon panties.

“Jesus, fuck me.” Ellie angled the camera down to your tits, having a little too much fun holding it.

“Alright, give me it, Els.” You snatched the camera from her, pointing it up at Ellie’s towering figure. “You want to eat me out or what?”

Ellie couldn't help but chuckle at your bluntness and confidence now that the camera wasn’t on you. Regardless, she kneeled down on the bed with a ready sigh. She leaned over the camera to capture your lips into a gentle kiss, making you smile giddily.

Your smile was infectious, Ellie, too, smiling so much to the point where she had to pull away. Ellie began to scoot more down your body as you pointed the camera down at her figure. She was caressing your sides as her lips kissed at your chest, moving more and more downwards to your tits. Your breath hitches as she takes your left nipple into her mouth, the warmth and wetness of her tongue sending pleasure down your spine.

Ellie palms both of your tits, looking up at the lens and then your flushed face from behind it. She continues to suck on your hard nipple, smirking when your hips buck into her own.

“Feels good, Els,” you whimper, your arms already becoming weaker.

Ellie hums against your damp skin, pulling away to grope and admire them. She was annoyingly still in her sports bra and her boxers, revealing nothing to you. If you weren't so clouded by the want of her mouth on your pussy, you would’ve said something.

Ellie’s long fingers hook at the waistband of your panties, looking up at you with a silent question of if it was okay. You nod with a grin, lifting your hips to help her. Ellie slid the dampened underwear down your legs. You could see the wet patch on the crotch area, a slight pang of embarrassment flowing through you.

Ellie, thankfully, began to place feather-soft kisses on the plush of your stomach. You watch her trail her lips down from your skin, inching closer to above your pubic bone.

“Fuck, baby, look at how wet you are,” Ellie teased your drenched folds, the obscene sound causing you to blush shyly.

She holds up her pointer and middle finger, the clear slick of your arousal glistening. She practically shoves them into the lens as you groan at her actions.

“Els, please, don’t. I don’t want my… juices on the camera.” You cringe at the way you phrased it but end up giggling at Ellie’s disgusted face.

“Well, I love your juices,” Ellie quickly grinned devilishly as she sucked off those fingers.

She drove you insane with the smallest things. When she kissed and caressed the plush of your hips and thighs, whispering how ‘sexy’ and ‘perfect’ you are to her. Even touching into the stuff you tended to be more insecure about like the stretch marks on your body.

You never worried about those toxic mind-consuming thoughts with Ellie.

”Can I see the camera, baby? Wanna get this view right here.” Ellie reached for it to which you handed back.

She aimed the camera lens more towards your crotch, legs spread to reveal how much your cunt was needing some release. You suck in a deep breath and adjust yourself as Ellie muttered praises as she ran her fingers carefully over your throbbing clit and soaked folds.

Beginning to grow impatient, you let out a soft noise. Ellie notices that you are becoming more and more needy for something, anything, so she leans over your panting body and sets the camera on the bedside table. The small screen was flipped so that Ellie could adjust it so that the two of you were in the frame. Your hands find their way over Ellie’s body and up into her hair.

You tug her down into a messy kiss, humming as Ellie is caught off guard by your force and nearly slipping from how she was holding herself up with one arm. She moaned softly against your lips, enjoying how your nails were scraping against her scalp.

She hungrily moved down your body, growing impatient herself. You pant softly as you watch her place messy kisses on the curves of your skin as she finally makes her way to your desperate cunt. You let out a soft sigh as she licks one teasing stripe over your clit.

“Look so pretty, Els.” You murmur as you move her falling strands of hair out of her face, a slight whine leaving your mouth.

And, god, she really did. Her eyelids were heavy over her gorgeous eyes as she looked up at you with a slight smile on her lips. She lazily kissed over the sensitive bud, that cheeky smile growing as your hips stuttered.

“My sweet girl.” She teased two fingers over your wet folds, letting out a groan at the obscene sight.

You continue to caress her face and head of hair, never wanting to tear your eyes away from your girlfriend. She glanced up at you as she carefully slid her middle finger into your warm cunt. She kept telling you how good you felt around her fingers and how much she missed your ‘perfect pussy’.

For a moment, you forgot about the camera that was recording your every move. The mic picks up every whine, moan, the sound of Ellie’s fingers fucking into you.

“Baby,” you pant, allowing your hips to grind and follow her curling fingers.

Ellie merely hummed in question as she peered up at you with hooded eyes. You nearly forgot what you were going to be begging for.

More. You just needed more. More of her touch and her lips everywhere. The tightening coil in your lower abdomen and the desperate hump of your hips alerted you that you were getting closer to your orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum,” you admit, feeling almost embarrassed by how quickly it was happening.

Ellie pulled her mouth off of you as her arm continued to pump her fingers inside of you. Your chin tilts up, hands reaching up to cradle her face. Ellie hungrily leaned down to kiss you, moaning at the sound of you whimpering against her slick-covered lips.

You were whispering pleads as she continued to fuck you like her life depended on it. Ellie leaned back to look down at her movements before glancing at the camera.

“Cum for me, baby. Need something to help me later on when I watch this over and over just to see how beautiful you look cumming for me.” Ellie groans into your ear.

Your hand reaches down to grip at her wrist but Ellie grabs your hand to kiss at your palm as another form of stimulation. You whine as your hips stutter and you feel a sharp feeling running down your spine. Ellie mutters curses as she feels you clamp down on her two fingers as your orgasm takes over.

You let out a few louder moans as you sit up carefully to let yourself ride out the orgasm.

“Fuck, Els,” you whisper as you try and come down from the high as easily as possible.

“Hey, hey, lay back, baby,” Ellie ever so slightly pressed on your lower abdomen so that your back was against the mattress once again.

Feeling light and lazy, you do as she had told you. You take slow breaths as you shut your eyes. Ellie’s body hovers over yours for a moment and you hear the hard plastic being lifted from the bedside table. You open one eye to see Ellie was aiming the camera towards the cum that was leaking. Her already wet fingers were running through your folds, being as filthy as ever.

“How’s it look?” You hum with a playful grin.

“You know, perfect, I guess,” Ellie shrugs her shoulders but her grin tells you she’s matching your energy.

As tired as you were, you wanted to make Ellie feel good too. You sit up to come face to face with her, leaning close to capture her lips into a gentle kiss. Ellie hums against your lips, setting the camera on the empty mattress right next to you both. Pulling away, you take her hand that was inside of you and raise it to your lips.

“You're gonna wanna record this, Els,” You tilt your head towards the still-recording camera.

Ellie didn't have to be told twice as she leaped for the boxy hunk of plastic and aimed the lens at your pretty plumped lips. You lick up the length of her fingers, tasing your own arousal. Ellie watched you through the small screen, wondering how fucking lucky she got with you.

You had no idea who infatuated the freckled girl was with you. Your eyes flickered to Ellie behind the camera, her pale skin practically a poppy red shade from how flustered she was. You popped off her long fingers, kissing the pads of her middle and ring fingers before sitting back on your ass as you looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“You think I’ll be a star?” You ask again, playing into the pornstar role-play.

Ellie blew a huff of air as she cupped your face to peck at your lips: “Without a doubt, babe.”

[miserycanary]

MISSION: LOVE KILL  ᡣ𐭩 [trailer]

pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: the trailer to my very first full-length series set in a soulmate AU. 

pairings: (applies to future parts) angst, smut, fluff, mutual pining, misunderstandings, rivals to lovers to rivals, featuring Ghost's inability to communicate, graphic mentions of violence, might hint to sexual violence, BARELY PUT TOGETHER, torture, one bed trope, i-will-wait-for-you trope, loving-you-is-like-breathing trope, slowburn (unless I get bored and rush this), poor poor attempt in crack, will add more as we go on

The subtle searing pain on the back of his neck is enough reason for Ghost to hate the idea of soulmates existing. It wasn’t just the fact that he has lived up to his 30s feeling like a fire wasp is buzzing under his skin, it was that the government fully developed their system with pairs in mind. You mean to tell him that he has to have found his partner—who’s probably cities or even continents away—just so that he could fucking own property? Utter fucking bullshit, he calls it. 

‘Nutjobs! The lot of them’

It was also the fact he had to watch his mum’s so-called soulmate almost beat them up to death each day. How could someone whose single purpose in life is to torment them be his mother’s soulmate? Fate either has a weird take on the concept of love and the whole shenanigan or it’s fucking wicked. Either way, the S-word has left a bad taste in his mouth—and memory. He would rather die, not having property—or anything really—to his name if it means that he wouldn’t comply to the fucking standards of pairs. 

Or so he thought because, once again, life is fucking wicked like that. 

When he first broke the news that he would be retiring from the army, he expected his future days ahead full of smooth-sailing lounging. Maybe a cup of tea in hand or even some biscuits if he was feeling fancy. Imagine his shocked face when he inquired with a real-estate agent to finally have something to call home, no longer needing to stay by some cheap hotel with what his little pay could afford, that he cannot fucking do that! 

“Yeah, this would be good. Really nice stuff here,” Ghost gruffs. “Yeah? Well, let’s get started then. Um, here are the paperworks that you need to fill out. Uhh, you just need to input your government code and your partner’s. It is policy that you bring your pair in with you when it comes to legal documents, but I’m sure that we could make an exception for our veteran here,” the agent smiles; one that Ghost did not reciprocate. “I ain’t got a missus with me. Haven’t found them yet.” 

It was a simple explanation, not wanting to dwell too much on his reasons. Before he could even take the papers in his hand, the man retracts. Confusion etched on Ghost’s face while pity is on the man’s. “Oh, I am really sorry but you are legally required to have a partner before you could own property—or anything for that matter.” Ghost looked this agent for a good few minutes, anticipating the ‘sike’ that he desperately wishes to hear but only dead silence echoes. “Surely you could, say, make an except for a veteran?” he nervously chuckles out, trying to weasel his way into a fucking home. Nothing. Dead fucking silence that’s heavy with pity. Ghost loathes it.

Without even saying a word, he turns his back and starts walking towards the car he rented today, because you can’t even own a car in this government! He should have flagged it as weird when the lady in the car shop insists that he should rent first before buying something. So, now he sits in the dingy bar that Soap has dragged him into after he informed the force that he would not be settling anytime soon. After explaining his circumstance, he expected them to react like he did before, but no. They all replied like they knew this. Even saying stuff like, “you didn’t know?” Of course he didn’t! It wasn’t like Ghost was invested in property or anything for that matter while he was serving. All he cared about was surviving each day, and that is it. 

“Aye, cheer up, lad. Life ain’ that bad. Ya’ just gotta get them lassie, and all yer problems would go away,” the Scot on his right drunkenly offers advice—a shit one at that. Did he really think Ghost hasn’t stepped foot on every land they got deployed with heavy hopes that he’ll find whoever he needs to find there? He fucking hates it here. He should have not retired this early if he knew this would happen. Now he needs to go around the world and search for the lassie whose presence—or her lack thereof—is the root of all his problems. 

If finding a needle in a haystack is hard, imagine finding a lady that’s probably moving countries as he speaks with Soap. “Yeah, like that’s fucking easy,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes before lifting his mask just enough to down his shot of whiskey. The fiery burn of the alcohol down his throat is nothing compared to the one on his neck. He would rather have it cut at this point than to go on about this miserable lifetime any longer.

“Should I just cut and peel it off?” he mumbles to no one in particular; probably to Fate if that shit is listening. Seeing that no one else in the rundown bar is really paying attention to him, Soap takes the honour in replying to him instead. “According tae what I’ve seen, jobby pain is hee haw compared tae th' pain ye will feel in yer heart. Doctors say that th' pain goes tae th' heart instead while tripling”. Unprompted, Ghost curses like a fucking sailor. Saying stuff that will probably get him on the government's watchlist if he wasn’t part of the military serving this goddamn country. He risks his life daily and this is what he gets? Ungrateful bastards.

With a slam of the glass on the mahogany table, he stands up with a new profound determination. “Fuck it, I’m finding that missus if it’s the last thing that I do”. “Eyy, that’s the spirit, matie,” Soap drunkenly encourages him, which should have been the first red flag on this idea. Any idea supported by Soap is an immediate botch.

Well, what could go wrong? He’s retired anyway. 

Turns out, many could go wrong. Well, here’s to the fucking shit-show of his life.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: please give this love!!

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist is open!! @hotvinimon

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

[smusherina]

bridges burnt - chapter 3 [epilogue series] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: When an invitation to Gretchen Wieners' wedding ended up in your mailbox, you'd been sure it was a mistake. Only, it read your name in neat, swoopy calligraphy. It was addressed to you. And Regina George, whom you hadn't spoken to in years.

additional clarification: This is set in the universe of yard work, a series of mine that can be found on my page! Reading this one might be a bit challenging without the context of the series :)

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 4

You were leaning against the wall, an unlit cigarette in your mouth. Nicotine was the only substance you hadn't been able to cut off entirely. You smoked less now and were trying to quit, but it wasn't quite so easy. You had made a promise to smoke only once a day. This would be your third if you lit up.

"Need a light?" Janis rounded the corner, already inhaling. The scent of the smoke solved your dilemma. Fuck it. She exhaled as she extended her lighter to you. An old zippo. It was gold-ish in colour, engraved with shapes that were wearing away. You were pretty sure if she were to sell it, she'd get several hundred for it.

"Thanks." Maybe this was the universe telling you that it'd be okay. Just today. Just today, you could smoke all the goddamned cigarettes you wanted.

"When'd you and Regina get back together?" Janis leaned against the porch railing across from you. Behind her was a pretty hillside that led down into a thick forest. The sky was grey and not much light penetrated the dense clouds, making the woods look that much grimmer. You'd rather be there than here.

"A while ago." You might've not seen her in years but you knew when she was plotting something. That kiss out in the open like that was a clue, a wordless message she trusted you to get on your own. You were together. You didn't know what she was playing at or why you were going along with it. Probably old habits.

Janis snorted. "Romantic. Mia would kill me if I said we've been together for a while."

"Get off my dick, Janis," You snapped unnecessarily. You didn't want to be on the spot like this. You couldn't give many details and risk contradicting Regina.

(Why couldn't you? Why didn't you say, "Oh, hey, actually we're not together" instead of, once more, following her example like a good dog.)

"Jeez, I was just asking. Trouble in paradise? Sure didn't seem that way." She wiggled her eyebrows at you. You wished you hadn't lit up the cig so you could just walk away.

"We're fine. Why's your Mia not here?" You assumed that was her partner.

"I didn't get a plus one." She shrugged. "Besides, not sure she could've gotten out of work. They're doing a merger, or something."

"She's the breadwinner then and you're what? A tortured artist?"

"What you don't realize, my friend, is that I'm winning here. I have a beautiful wife who makes money like a printer, has a 401k and air-tight insurance, and works nine to five while I get to paint my little paintings all day." Janis took a drag. "And she fucks me good."

You groaned. "Janis, please."

"Meanwhile you act like you're better than me when, in fact, I'm happy and you're miserable." She finished off with a snarky smile.

Once upon a time, you'd fantasized about staying in the garage all day, fixing old cars as a hobby, and greeting Regina when she got home from her Real Adult Job, wearing a sexy pantsuit and carrying a mysterious briefcase.

Not anymore. You wore the suits, you carried the briefcase, and you did not fix old cars as a hobby.

"You should give motivational speeches. Think Northshore would love to have you back." You took a deep drag. Deflecting with sarcasm was cheap but effective.

"You think?" Her smile softens. "Seriously, though, how've you been?"

"It's been... Good." It had been good recently. You knew, though, that Janis was asking about the last ten years and not just your week. If you were to compile a list of all the good and bad things from that long a time period, one would be perhaps a page and the other a several-foot scroll. Respectively.

"Wow. I forgot how close-lipped you are." Janis said. You could tell she was disappointed. You'd never been friends, not really, not ever like her and Damian, but there was an understanding between you.

You let up.

"We got back together after college." You swallowed, trodding on eggshells, being as vague as possible. "I was cleaning up my act, trying to get away from it all. Moved back into town and met Regina coincidentally. Rest is history, I suppose." You eyed the hills. The view turned into misty nothingness before you could tell if it was the ocean there or more land.

"I heard your dad passed," Janis said, blunt but not mean. "Sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, I guess." You rubbed your forehead. It wasn't tactful to tell a near-stranger that you weren't actually all that upset about it. "To be honest, it was a long time coming. He was in bad shape."

He'd gotten ill when you were in college. At first, all the business stuff was being handled by his team but as more and more time passed and he showed no signs of getting better, he started nagging you to do more for the company.

What the fuck you were gonna do? You didn't know shit about business and, besides, were high out of your mind half the time. You didn't want any of it, didn't want his blood money and shady practices. But you were gonna get it.

Now, you could say you had things under control. Somewhat. You sold some locations, passed them off to people better suited, and sure, lost some money in the process but you weren't ambitious like your dad had been.

If it was up to you, you'd keep the one shop you'd always worked at and make an honest, humble living the remainder of your days. Start a project you could work on for the next several years and be content.

"Sorry to hear that." Janis stumped her cigarette on the ground. You did the same, dropping the stub and snuffing it out with your shoe.

"Well." You sighed. "I'm not."

With that, you turned and walked back towards the doors leading into the hall. Janis followed behind you.

People were still mingling around the place, the bride and groom yet to make an entrance. Your table was somewhere in the middle, not one of the important ones but with a clear view of the stage and where the important people were meant to be sitting.

The mother of the bride was eyeing the room like a hawk scanning for prey. Her eyes didn't catch yours but you could tell she was keen on Janis. The all-black ensemble stood out almost as much as Regina's white stole.

Speaking of her. She was sitting and chatting with Shane, seeming cool and casual. Damian was there too, engaged and laughing at the right parts.

You approached deliberately slowly, trying to hear what they were talking about before you sat down.

"-came back to town after college and we hit it off." She turned her head slightly and made eye contact with you. "Baby," She greeted you.

You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling warm. "Reg," You sat down and, as casually as you could, draped an arm over the back of her chair.

"I was just telling Shane how we met." Her sharp eyes met yours. "What'd you tell Janis?"

You needed to get your stories straight. Act natural. It was sheer luck you'd both set the same timeline.

"I was just telling her how we met up after college. If I remember correctly, wasn't it, uh, at uh..." You fumbled. "The grocery store?"

"Yes, mom saw you and I'm sure she didn't let you leave without a date set for when you'd come to dinner." Regina finished for you. Shane was buying it, slowly crawling out of his shell. You were quickly realizing that the gay people had all been shoved to one table. Hopefully, that didn't bode anything.

"That's Mrs George for you." You knew it was Ms now but old habits die hard.

Regina smiled at you, hand coming to rest on your knee. You shivered. It scared you how genuine she seemed. She could be awarded an Oscar for this shit.

You watched her, really looked at her. She was still so beautiful. She'd always been pretty beyond belief, gorgeous like a movie star, but the confidence she carried with herself now made it all a stunning, deadly combination.

Even so, you couldn't help feeling melancholy. You hadn't seen any of it, certainly were not the reason for it, and chances were this little scheme she was cooking up was at your expense. She had every right to seek vengeance against you.

You wondered if it was worth it to try and enjoy it. Would it hurt to dream a little? You could use a break from practicality.

You closed your eyes for a moment.

"Baby?" Your eyes fluttered open as her hand came to caress your cheek. You leaned into the touch.

"Yeah?" You asked and tilted forward, closer to her. Regina mirrored you, putting a hand on your knee and leaning some of her weight on it as her lips neared yours.

"Just focus on me," She grinned and you resisted the urge to steal a kiss. "Trust me."

"Always." You whispered, reverent in just the same way you used to be. You'd known it for a long time, the irresistible fate you'd sworn yourself to, that you'd go back to her every time.

"Ehem," Someone cleared their throat behind you. You went to look but Regina kept a hold on you. She placed a languid kiss on your lips, sending your mind into orbit, before turning towards the person so rudely invading your bubble.

"Yes?" She almost hissed, smiling in a way that was more like a threat. All teeth and sharp edges.

"The bride and groom are about to enter, so it would be really, really nice if you two could can it for a few moments, 'kay? Thanks!" The maid of honour chirped, voice so high pitched you had to wonder if she was inhaling helium on her off-time.

Regina watched her scurry away, eyes going up and down her retreating back in a manner that surely should've made you jealous. You knew, though, that for one, Regina didn't like girls that wore dresses and, secondly, that she was up to something. She wasn't checking out the maid of honour—she wished—but evaluating her.

"What a bitch, right?" Regina turned to the rest of the table with a sneer on her face.

You bit your cheek to hide a smile as everybody agreed. This was going to be utter shit. Total, absolute chaos with a side of heartbreak and, potentially, a ruined wedding.

You dreaded it. You anticipated it. Both could be true at once.

Notes: Hello all! Been some time! I've been in my summer groove, having a proper vacation. It's been liberating. Hopefully there's some interested readers for this series :) Taglist posted separately! If you want to be added, comment on that post please.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[2:14 pm]

(cw: cursing, reader is a lil teensy weensy bit toxic but it's fun!!!)

"Did you still want to go get food?" you ask from your position on gamer!Haechan's bed. The same spot you'd been in for the last, wow, almost 3 hours.

"Fuck off! Get my 6 motherfucker!" Haechan yells, before answering softly, "yeah, of course, baby."

You rolled your eyes, he wasn't even listening to you. He had been listening to you when you showed up 4 hours ago when he was very calmly showing you all the changes he made on his Animal Crossing Island. Then, and this was smart, he slid his Switch over to you and told you to make any changes you'd like. So you spent about an hour on his Switch, placing decorations and buying clothes to send to your own island before you realized he was keeping you busy so he could play Fortnite.

Just like he'd been playing last night when he insisted you call him to talk. That casual, and some might even call it cute, conversation lasted all of 20 minutes before he was screaming so loud, you heard him across the room even when your phone wasn't on speaker. Since he'd been so adamant about playing last night and played for so long, you thought today he'd be over it. WRONG! Apparently, there had been some update or something and that reignited his Fortnite obsession.

"Well, do you want to go out like we planned or do you want me to order something?" You asked, turning to lay on your side.

"Of course, my love- oh you stupid fuck! Get back here!" Haechan groaned as the keyboard clacking got even louder.

You pulled a blanket over your face to muffle a groan of your own. A groan of annoyance an frustration more than anything. You'd give him 10 more minutes and then you'd take drastic measures.

You checked the time, 2:14, perfect. You figured you could have at least a little fun while you waited.

"I think it would make you totally ugly if you shaved your head, but why not do it anyway? What do you think?" You asked with a smile.

Haechan nods, "Totally agree, babe. Someone come get this stupid ass little 10 year old that tried to steal my loot."

"And you should pay for our food! And dessert!" You added.

"Of course, baby! Oh, oh, dude! Dude! Headshot! That was a headshot! Holy shit! That was gold!" He exclaimed excitedly.

"And I was thinking maybe after dinner we can go sell your whole set up. Maybe to the first guy we see for like a dollar even less!"

"Yeah, definitely. Dude, I'm out. Fuck, I lagged. Let's join a new game, I'm tired of playing with these fucking kids," Haechan groans, running his hands down his face.

Perfect, you stood up and quickly moved to his computer, pulling at some random plugs until the screen shut off. You placed your hand over his mouth with a sickeningly sweet smile, "We're going to go eat now. Then, because you agreed, we're going to shave your head, you're going to pay, and then we're going to sell your little computer and the whole set up."

You could feel his lips moving beneath your hand, "But-"

You tsked with a fake pout, "Baby, you agreed."

"I wasn't listening! I don't remember what you said!"

"You don't listen when I talk?" You ask with an arched brow.

He opened his mouth and quickly closed it to take a second to think. He hummed, "I promise, the next time we have plans I won't get distracted by games." You gave him a look as if to ask, and? he cleared his throat, "and I won't try cheap gimmicks to distract you. And I will pay for dinner and for the rest of the day all my attention will be on you and no one or anything else. But I won't shave my head or sell my set up."

You smiled, "I was joking. I just wanted to see if anything would catch your attention. Now, let's go, I'm hungry."

You were both on your out when Haechan asked, "do you think I'd look good with a shaved head? Is that why you asked."

You couldn't even look at him, choosing instead to focus on the sidewalk beneath your feet, "yeah, baby. Of course..."

[jxckchxmpi0n]

can u do something where reader has a cat and ethan is meeting it for the first time!!

RAHHH!!! this is so fucking cute omg......

Cuddle Buddie

Ethan Landry x Reader || m.list

Warnings: it's just all fluff

word count: 1.1k

the urge to write this week is so high right now!!!! (tumblr fr fr giving me a hard time while writing this)

did not proof read (im so stressed this wont save again)

You haven't seen your boyfriend in about a week, with his classes and your scheduling time together seemed difficult. So, you both agreed that he would come over Saturday after he was done at work.

It was Tuesday and you were already done with classes, sitting in your shared apartment with Tara, Sam, and Mindy you sat on the couch mindlessly scrolling through Instagram. Your eyes landed on a post about someone giving away kittens, the post had said they would give the kitten the shots it needed and would give them away for fairly cheap.

One thing led to another, and you stood outside the ladies' house with Tara. "I can't believe I'm doing this." Tara shared the same excitement as you did, she stood next to you jumping up and down as the lady brought the kitten out.

it was a small gray cat asleep in her arms, and your heart melted the second you saw him. All curled up, what an angle. "He is just a babe" You reached in and held him yourself. "Ethan is going to flip when he sees him" Tara was right next to you softly petting the top of the cat's head.

-

A few days had passed, the kitten was getting used to the apartment and exploring the place. You and Tara both realized that he was in love with biting people's feet.

Ethan was supposed to come over today and meet the kitten. He actually had no idea still that you had gotten him.

He was eventually on his way; it was after his econ class so it was already late. you were getting some dinner ready for the two of you, Tara was out with Chad and Sam was out with Danny. you were excited that it was going to be just the two of you.

You had left the kitten in your room not wanting Ethan to walk in right away and see the little fur ball.

After thirty minutes the front door lock clicked, with the door opening right after. Ethan came walking in with a huge smile on his face. "hey, baby" he was towards you, his hand reaching your waist pulling you in for a sweet quick kiss.

"hey, how was econ?" you smile as you watch him set his keys, and backpack down. He comes back to you standing next to you as you stir the pasta sauce.

"It was pretty good, we got a pop quiz which I was not excited about but I feel like I passed it" you held up the spoon for him to taste it. He gladly took the spoon humming at the flavors.

"Wow, that's-" Right as he was about to speak a loud crash came from your room. Your heart picked up thinking what the kitten had gotten himself into. "What was that?"

"OH, ow you faked touching the pot which caused him to jump. He rushed to you to make sure you were okay, as you held your fake burnt hand, he took it from you to look at it. The sound from the room was long forgotten.

time had passed and you were both down with food, you were finally ready to show Ethan the kitten. "So actually, I have something I wanted to show you" you got up from the couch leaving him alone, running to your room you found the kitten sleeping in his tower.

"I honestly didn't fully expect this, but you know why not" Ethan was listen to your talk, his brain was running miles while trying to figure out what you were going to show him. Just as he had given up you came walking out with some weird lump in your arms.

As you got closer, he realized it was a kitten "Oh my god is that-" he sat up so fast, shifting his body so it was closer to you as you sat down. The kitten was awake, he was just chilling in your arms but once he was Ethan, he started to move so he could smell him.

He slowly but surely got out of your arms and into Ethan's lap, he looked at him for a moment before he started to mess with Ethan's hand as he was trying to pet him. "Yeah, I got him a few days ago, I went with Tara. I saw someone post about them and I just had to check it out."

Ethan was so lost in playing with the kitten he almost didn't hear you. "This is adorable, babe oh god I love him already" You smiled at the interaction between the two. "I just know for sure we are going to be fighting for your attention" Ethan looked at you smiling as the kitten kept biting his hand.

They played for the next thirty minutes, the kitten jumped around as Ethan threw his toys around, and moving to the floor the kitten would hide under the couch and bite Ethan's feet. Staying out of it your heart was so full seeing Ethan play with the kitten. You just knew it was a good idea to get him and you can't wait for the late nights like this to come in the future.

[medicetwork]

Mercs if they had modern day cellphones!

Heavy:

The screen is too small and his fingers are too big.

The screen also tends to hurt his eyes after a while but he absolutely refuses to turn down the brightness, saying it would make it even harder to see than before

His main favorite functions are video calls with Medic or his family and listening to music.

His life is complete when he discovers E-books

He can’t read them on the screen but he loves being able to clean Sasha while having his favorite book read to him

Medic:

Really doesn’t use it for much else than phone calls and the occasional google search at first

When he discovers mobile games that takes his interest though!

He becomes a candy crush mom.

Oh you have a broken arm? Wellll…You can tough it out, champ. He’s on level 7,229 right now.

He would make all the other men get Life360

Scout:

Total social media zombie(I say as if I am not one)

Surprisingly he’s very popular on apps like Twitter and Tik Tok. People think he’s hilarious!

Unfortunately somewhere along the way he says something less than respectful about something and his account gets banned

Eventually he’s on account number 6 and trying to regrow his following

It never recovers

He finds out about NFT’s

Sniper:

Mainly uses it to watch youtube and play music

His phone is always on silent and Do Not Disturb

He loves those videos where those guys go out into the middle of the woods and just start building a fucking house out of clay and sticks.

He prefers texting to calling, finding it much faster(he just like me fr)

Baffled by just how much porn he has access to now….

But he’s not complaining.

Soldier:

He doesn’t use it because he just keeps breaking his phones.

They’ve been dropped, blown up, set ablaze, dropped in water, eaten by a bread-tumor monster, eaten by Soldier(???) and run over.

Even if they didn’t get destroyed within 3 days he still wouldn’t use it for much else besides setting alarms and sending confusing group texts.

However, with each new phone he has gotten he asks Pyro for stickers and sticker bombs his phone just for fun

Has an American flag wallpaper

Pyro:

Watches a lot of Youtube!

They love art tutorials, cooking tutorials and those videos with the guys that put molten hot metal balls into water and those videos of people crushing things in Hydraulic presses

Their search history is so fucking strange:

“my little pony free episode”

“my little pony movie free”

“how to draw clouds”

“gasoline cheap prices”

They follow Scout’s pages and always send him nice comments and like his videos

Engineer:

Loves listening to music and watching movies on his phone

Eventually learns how to code and make his own apps

This is also how he discovered he could jailbreak his phone and turn it into a universal remote for his sentries

Very slow texter

Uses way more emoji’s than needed

“Hello yall 👋🏻 going to the hardware store today 🔨let me know if yall need anything while im out👋🏻🚶🏼”

His most used app is the settings app

Spy:

Of course all of his phones are burners.

He never uses one for more than one week

Loves pirating movies on it and watching them in bed

He has no contacts. No personal information and keeps his location off at all times

Likes to pretend to be different people and play around with Google and Youtube’s targeted ads and algorithms

One day he’s an 86 year old woman that’s recommended nothing but metal bands and funeral home ads

The next week he’s four years old and getting recommended Mario and Minecraft let’s play videos

He uses twitter

He’s doxxed many people on Twitter

Like Scout he has MANY banned accounts and has also hacked and stolen many accounts

…He hacked one of Scout’s accounts and got it permanently banned

Demoman:

Loves watching Top 10 videos

Also loves having so much ease and access talking to his lads

He video calls his mother often even she just nags him the whole time and keeps accidentally hanging up

Is frequently texting the other team’s Soldier and laughing at what he says back

Uses Discord and Reddit and is in many servers and communities that focus on paranormal activity, urban legends and cryptids

Actually makes his own youtube videos searching for said cryptids

Frequently comments “cringe” under Scout’s posts

[muldermuse]

love love loving the Two Sinners series! Best I’ve read! Keep it up!!

Wondering what would happen if they got one of those remote controlled vibrators that can be controlled by the other one.

Maybe they can’t see each other for a while so reader wears it all day and gets an unexpected surprise at at awkward moment OR Gator inserts it and reader is in control OR they are both at some event in public and are controlling the devices just to fuck with each other.

CHURCH POT LUCK

CHURCH POT LUCK

CHURCH. POT. LUCK.

nsfw below the cut. mdni. <3

you'd seen Gator quickly in the morning, he was on the overnight shift so could visit you before heading home to Glenda. whenever he came to see you at the ass crack of dawn, he'd always have to decency to drop off a black mcdonalds coffee (he always plays it off that he drank a gatorade and couldn't finish it but really it's because he knows that it's your fav cheap takeaway coffee)

he fucks you so soft and slow on mornings like this. you're both exhausted and using all your remaining energy to make the other feel good. he kisses deep into your mouth to swallow your soft whines for him. his breath is hot against your neck, leaving soft bites against your neck; damp with both of your perspiration. "thought about this all fuckin' night long", it's mumbled quietly against your skin. you both smile to yourselves. neither of you last long and usually, Gator would fall asleep wrapped around you for an hour before heading home. but today he's scrabbling off you to get dressed- it's the Church Pot Luck. the event that takes over his home life because Glenda fucking loves it.

he's lost in his thoughts as he shoves his feet into his boots. considering how he won't be able to sleep when he gets home, how Glenda will have him tasting her bland soup for confirmation of how good it was and how his Father would criticise him for not helping enough. a sudden vibration behind his ear pulled him from his thoughts.

"what the fuck is that?" he sounds exasperated, which is not the mood you wanted to go for at all.

"it's a toy for us, to make the pot luck more bearable" you've wrapped your blanket around yourself, deciding that you'll probably stay in bed naked until it's time to get dressed.

Gator shakes his head, "'s always fuckin' somethin' on this day- you're not even a fuckin' part of the church. why do you go? just to make me miserable?". You grin and nod as you press a quick kiss to his cheek. He smiles despite himself.

you drop the blanket and crawl into the middle of the bed, sliding the small but sleek silicone vibrator inside you. that feeling alone has you flustered and you're trying to stifle a moan before you can speak. "it's a remote control vibrator, that pink thing on the table? it controls the vibrations" you drop your voice to sound as subby as possible, "jus' want you to be in control today, Sir". a deep red flush crosses his complexion as he squeezes his hardening cock through his boxers.

"baby, i don't have time for this i gotta go" he heads out as you shout at him if he doesn't want to use it, you'll invite another date instead.

he texts you 15 minutes later, telling you to wear the vibe.

you reply a few hours later as you pull up to the potluck simply saying, do your worst.

***

you sneak into the potluck. you don't want to draw attention to yourself. a few colleagues from work are standing in a corner and wave you over. they hand you a cup of spiked punch that you sip slowly; trying to calm your nerves. you blend into the conversation seamlessly, almost forgetting about the pink toy nestled against your walls.

until it turns on. it's like a lightning bolt.

you'd neglected to mention to Gator that it has a variety of settings. he didn't just have to turn up it to 11. i mean you had told him to do his worse. what makes it worse, is that everyone notices. your friends crowd around you and talk over each other as the vibrations continue, "oh my god are you okay?", "lemme grab you a chair" and "is this your back again?". you reassure them that you're fine and grab another cup of the sickly sweet spiked punch. you try to focus on the false coconut of the malibu rather than how close you're getting to cumming in this church.

then, it stops.

you take the respite to seek out your tormentor. Gator's arm is around Glenda's waist but his eyes are locked on yours. he's smirking at you, your eyes follow his hand into his pocket and you immediately feel the vibrations start again. it feels more intense than before, if you were alone in your room you'd be screaming. you keep staring at Gator as you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood.

he does this agonising routine throughout the event until finally- you have to sneak into the bathroom and make yourself cum. your hand trembles as you pull the lock across, you softly moan as you pull your underwear down your trembling legs whilst the vibrations continue. you try not to look at yourself in the small mirror hanging above the sink. the cool touch of the sink contrasts the burning touch of your body.

you're so close to the edge, that you're finally allowing yourself to be lost in the overwhelming sensation. and then, again, it stops.

you cry out like you're in pain. there's a small knock on the door and you hear Gator's hushed voice tell you to open the door.

once he's in the cramped room with you, he's quick to put his hand around your throat and he takes your damp underwear in his other hand. a chaste kiss is placed against your forehead as he whispers, "'m gonna make you cum now okay baby? but i've gotta put these in your mouth to make sure you stay quiet. such a loud girl for me aren't you?". your nod is desperate as he pushes your panties past your lips, you savour the tangy taste of your own arousal. Gator quickly pulls your tits out of your dress and runs this thumb and forefinger against your pebbled nipples.

you look at his reflection as the vibration starts again. it's all too much, his strong hand around your throat, your own fucked reflection in the mirror, the panties in your mouth, and the changing pressure on your nipples. it hits you so fucking hard and it feels so fucking good. your legs are shaking, and your whole body is quivering as you see Gator smirk in the mirror at the sight before him.

he switches it off once you've come down, he kisses you, and takes the wet panties from your mouth. he mutters a quiet "fuck" as he slips them into his pocket and leaves without saying goodbye.

[crushedsweets]

hey sucker! 😋😋

what would the creeps do for valentine’s day?

like yknow, would some be given small treats or do others treat it like a regular day?

happy belated valentines day! hope you guys had fun and shared some love with everyone around you! this is the closest youre gonna get to x reader content from me.

AGAIN THIS IS SET IN MY AU!!! MY AU IS PRETTY DETAILED AND HAS AN OVERARCHING STORYLINE WITH PRE-ESTABLISHED FRIENDSHIPS, SETTINGS, JOBS, CHARACTER ARCS AND WHATNOT....... so :3 yeah.

Tim and Brian probably don't do much. They'll totally grab some chocolates/candy and eat it, but just cuz its there, not as a gift. if they had a partner, they'd just go get some dinner.. flowers, basic stuff. put on an unironed button up and pick their partner up LOL.

toby might do something depending on where he is in the story. early on, he is not doing SHIIIIT. deep into his friendship with nina(who opens up a lot of his emotional vulnerabilities n stuff), he might feel a little inclined to pick up some flowers for some of the girls in his life (nina, clocky, kate, lazari) just cuz he used to do something small for his sister/mom when he was younger (cuz frank never did shit). if he had a partner, he'd def wanna do jewelry and classic flowers. he likes necklaces and rings and piercings and stuff, doesnt wear them much cuz they get in the way, but likes seeing people wear stuff he got. he's the type to make them turn around so he could put the necklace on them, but if they even slightly laugh at him trying to be sweet, he's getting mad HAHA. "ok nevermind im returning this you fucking suck" (jokingly.. but he is embarrassed). would just wanna stay home though, no nights out or anything

clocky would paint stuff. she'd give nina a portrait of herself cuz nina loooves being someone's muse, do some nice art of forest creatures and leave some notes for toby. she'd feel pretty awkward about it just cuz even when she was with her highschool boyfriend, she wasn't good at giving or receiving affection. if she's gifted any flowers (which she will be getting), she's absolutely pressing them and either sealing them in some paintings, or putting it in frames that hold her old art/art she picked up at thrifts. if she had a partner, she'd obviously paint them or something. i could see her spending a long time working through a journal to gift them, making every 3 pages a painting, drawing, or journal entry expressing something. "today you and i went to get lunch. i think the place was way too expensive, but you liked it." and then empty pages for her partner to fill in with whatever they want.

nina. ok come on. lets be serious. its nina. she's gonna buy everyone(as in toby, clocky, kate, jane, liu) one expensive gift (cologne, watches, shoes, jewelry, makeup) and then throw together mini bouquets, notes, and probably shop lift other smaller stuff cuz 'IM BROKE I SPENT TOO MUCH I HAVE TO' LOLLL.. she's the type to literally decorate her house for it, putting up some of clocky's more romantic paintings (cuz she has a collection of clocky's work), setting out heart-shaped coasters, bringing out heart shaped pillows.... honestly she probably already had those.... she'd absolutely plan galentines dinner for her friends, bake cookies, everything. if she had a partner, it would be really similar. she likes to spoil people, gift giving and acts of service are her ways of showing love - buuuut she does want to be spoiled in return, so physical affection and quality time is what she wants to receive. she wants to be treated like a princess, be picked up, have her doors opened for her, told she looks beautiful, etc.

jack is even less likely to do something than toby. before the sacrifice, he'd grab a cheap bag of individually wrapped chocolates and give them to people he knew around campus. i could see him buying the same chocolates and leaving it in his cabin. telling whoever visits him to take some. nina would leave him some flowers too(say its also from toby) and he'd be really grateful, cuz she'd be very sure to get him whatever he thinks smells the nice. that way he can still appreciate it. if he had a partner, YOU KNOW HE'S COOKING THE MOST BEAUTIFUL DINNER AT HOME. he's cleaning up, very awkwardly trying to dress nice. black button up, slacks, slick his hair back(or he'd just do whatever his partner says looks best, not too concerned with his own preference). he'd feel sooo fucking embarrassed and very nervous but he just wants to make it special. he'd write a long love letter, too

jeff isnt doing shit for anyone. he'll go steal some chocolate and mind his own business. if he had a partner, one that he ACTUALLY loved and wanted to keep around. maybe he'd pick up some flowers and chocolate, mainly cuz he knows thats the bare minimum sort of gift. he'd let them demand that day from him, which takes a LOT for him to let anyone feel entitled to HIS time. if he knows they have higher expectations (dinner, a letter, etc) he'd probably bitch and moan and be like "ugh you already know im into you why do i gotta do this shit" but if theyre serious, he'd probably do it. half assed though...

kates also not doing anything unprompted. she wouldnt even know the day is coming around. her only memories of valentines day would be passing out some candy and cards around class in elementary school, but once she was in the forest, nobody gave HER shit. she might pick some flowers and wrap it in some paper for people , but ONLY if she KNOWS they're getting something for her. like, she'd pick nina some flowers cuz she knows ninas doing something regardless, but she wouldnt get toby anything cuz she wouldnt have expected it from him. then shed feel bad. if she had a partner, again it'd be similar. she KNOWS she needs to put in the effort, but she doesnt exactly have the resources... the farm does pay her some cash since she works with the animals, but she mostly just gives it straight to toby so he can buy stuff for the cabin. but she'd keep it this time around, and quietly ask toby if he could come with her to get some stuff for them. some sweets, a necklace, scribble out a little letter. smth sweet.

janes married. and she goes all out of her wife. buys her like a 3dozen bouquet of red roses, sets reservations at nice restaurants, makes mary breakfast the morning of. all of that. i dont even know how to go into detail on this because thats just how it is for her, theres not some turmoil for her to work through. she'd also start getting sally some stuff. plushies holding hearts, balloons, sweet things like that. if she had a partner...WELL SHE ALREADY DOES!!!!

if liu knows nina is going to gift him something expensive, he's doing the same. he's going to grab her flowers and maybe some shoes or something he knows she's had her eye on. he wouldn't be really subtle about it, just text her "whats on your wishlist right now" LOLLL... he just appreciates nina's presence (after they get over the jeff situation) and likes having a little sister to spoil. he'd probably send jane a bouquet of flowers with a thank you note, since jane did a lot for him. if he had a partner, it would also be very stereotypical. date plans, picking them up, flowers, etc. he'd LOOOOVE to make one of those big baskets filled to the brim with random shit. would wanna come home and draw a nice bubble bath and have some wine. stuff like that in general...

ben, lulu, ann, and dina wouldnt do anything and wouldnt get a partner. lazari would draw some pictures for her friends! sally will draw something for jane and mary

[ferg0s]

heyy! just wanna start off by saying that I love your works!!

ideas for short requests that you asked for:

finding out that their s/o:

- is hyper flexible

- is a horrible singer

- is a good cook

- can speak many languages

got these off the top of my head so feel free to do this for whatever fandom you’d like!! (these may be more like headcannons but ehh)

have a good day/night!

old habits die hard so im gonna be doing the GOM from knb :(

Aomine:

Aomines version of a perfect night was going to his favourite park and playing basketball until his feet melted into the concrete of the court. It was what kept his head clear, tired him out after a long day of feeling restless and gave him an excuse to impress his new girlfriend. He was like a child showing you how fast they can run, thinking that was the epitome of strength. He'd drag you out to the court, begging and pleading with the same phrase; 'only one game, i promise - ill get you ice cream after'. Which you had come to learn was a lie. You would be there until he had dunked on you at least 35 times.

Again, you found yourself acorss the court from him. He had decided to be gracious today and agreed to a half court game. Dribbling the ball in his hands, alternating it between his legs, he gave you a smirk. You had been getting better, due to the involuntary lessons you got by playing with him, and he had decided to get a little more serious with you in that regard.

"You sure?" He says, a smirk on his face. You roll your eyes and get ready to defend the ball from going into the net behind you. Bending your knees and putting out your hands - like he had taught you. "Shut up and move already-" you reply back.

He did tend to get carried away from time to time, apologizing by letting you get a point in after. Which is why your games mostly ended in ties. It was just natural for him to be competitive, and better than you. He moved forward, faster than you could react, his eyes mapping out a perfect set up for a shot. In the split second it took you to register what was happening, you panciked and moved without thinking, side stepping infrot of him - but he had already accounted for that. Any experienced player would know that getting so close would cause a collosion and a subsequent foul - but how could you know? It seemed to happen in slow motion, watching his body get closer to you as his elbow got closer and closer to your face. In a last ditch effort, you began to lower your head. He saw the same unfolding infront of him, not being able to stop the flow of his body mid move. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the feeling of your nose against the tip of his elbow, thinking of ways he would apologize to you afterwards. Did he even have enough money for that? What if he didnt? Whats the cheaptest item at that stupid hello kitty store you like? Fuck - none of them were cheap!

His body came to a hault, finally stopping. He began to frantically look around, trying to find where you had landed while ignoring the pain - wait, there was no pain. He waited for the pain to travel up his arm bone from the tip of his elbow, but nothing happened. Did you manage to back away in time, or was his tolerance for pain just that strong?

"Help me up!"

He looked down, his eyes meeting yours. It took a good minute of him looking at you to figure out what had happened. His eyes travelled down your face and to your legs - both of them in a perfect line spread out. You had done the splits last second to avoid being knocked over by him.

"Help me up, jackass!"

He puts the ball in one hand, resting it on his hip as he aside reached down to grab your hand, helping you stand back up. "Are you okay?" He asks. "Yeah-" you say as you bend down to dust off your pants, "I used to do gymnastics when i was a kid - guess i still had it in me," you chuckle as you straighen back up. He stares at you for a second as the words process in his mind, a smirk slolwy forming when the words finally set in.

~

"-yeah, thats so cute," he says, dejected and unamused, as you hold up another overpriced toy infornt of him. He should have known this would happen - you weren't the type to not call out his bullshit. He should have known better than to make that stupid comment after helping you up, now being forced to fund another trip to that stupid store as punishment.

_____________________

Midorima:

If his horoscope told him to travel to Egypt and open a stall in a bazaar, just so he would get his luck for the day, he would. Without question. You had learned to accept his little quirk very early on. Red brought bad luck today? You would walk 30 minutes with him becuase the bus seats had a hint of red in them. Red was goodluck today? You would spend an extra 30 minutes waiting for the next bus because that one had red stripes on the chairs. It was a never ending cycle of how your life could be more difficult than the previous day.

Todays horoscope? Avoid unpleasent sounds. Sometimes, the horoscopes worked in your favour. Making an impromptu date for you and him. His idea was to spend the day having a picnic a nearby park close to a zen garden, saying the gongs they chimed at every hour would bring goodluck. You suggested a karaoke bar, saying music was the opposite of unpleasent sounds.

"You're right-" he said, squinting his eyes as if he's made a scientific breakthough. You didn't need to tell him twice, before you could evern suggest a place to go, he had your hand and was dragging you out with him.

You saw it as a cute date with your boyfriend, whereas he was treating it like a life or death matter. He paid extra for the privacy booth, with better sound proofed walls which was away from the main area. "I do not need other people's voices giving me bad luck-" he stated as he took out the extra yen for the upgrade. Once he had paid, he rushed to get in the booth, trying to cover his ears as he walked past the other people singing, you following behind him, trying not to laugh at the sight.

"What should we put on?" You ask as you begin to shuffle through the cataloge of music. He shrugged. "Something pleasant," he replied, looking at the screen as he watched you go by each song. "Micheal Jackson-" He suddenly stated. You turn to him, confused as to why he picked Micheal Jackson of all people. "He's a virgo. Virgos and Cancer are supposeded to be very compatible today-" he stated, looking at you if that information was as obvious as the sky was blue. "okay-" you sigh, "Micheal Jackson it is-"

~

Though he told himself he wouldn't do it, he would often look at his and your sign compatibly of the day. Something he felt guilty about because he didn't want that to dictate his feelings towards you. For the most part, they were very compatible. Enough to where he stopped checking that section of the cataloge a majority of the time. But today he checked it - out of curiosity more than anything. He tried to ignore the words written today as he was walking with you to the karaoke bar. He figured that there was a double meaning to it, he hadn'r read in between the lines or maybe he had read the wrong one entirely.

He didn't want to belive that your sign would cause his sign a great deal of pain today as it was stated.

But as he sat in the booth, mic lowered in his lap, eyes glued on you as you passionately sang the lyrics that were displayed on the screen, he realized that the horoscope was right. It was like listening to nails on a chalkboard, a dying cat, a screaming baby and garbage disposal all at once. Oh god, it was horrible. And it seemed to get worse the more passionate you got. In his pursuit to get away from unpleasent noises, he had trapped himself with it. Paradoxical.

In that moment, as you sang the lyrics of 'Bad' by Micheal Jackson, repeating the phrase 'i'm bad', he resisted thr urge to say 'yes, you are'.

___________________

Kagami:

Despite his athletic abilities and accomplishments, Kagami belonged in the kitchen. With the 'kiss the cook' apron you had gotten him for his birthday that he adored, and a spatula in his hand. In another life, he would be cooking with the greats like Gordon Ramsey, but he was stuck being his dumb culinary gifted self. His love language was cooking - as shown by the meals he would make for you, and the weight you had gained.

"I don't want people to think I starve you," he had replied to your remark about your weight gain. When you tried to explain that you wanted to cut back , he looked at you terrified. "Is my cooking bad?" He asked worried, mentally trying to figure out where he had gone wrong and what he had to fix. Too much salt, too little maybe? He couldn't comprehend why you wouldn't want to eat what he made for you, not after all the hours he spent making a separate protion for you to your taste preferences. Less spice, more spice, more sugar - you name it. You wanted vegetarian? He would make the same dish, but a separate vegetarian verison for you.

So when he had walked in on you in the kicthen after he came back from practice, he was surprised to see you wearing his apron, eyes glued to one of hs recipe books as you mumbled the ingredients and steps written in it. He put his gear down and walked towards you. "What are you doing?" He asked. You look up, not realizing that he had come back. "Oh-" you had the look of a child getting caught doing something they weren't supposed to. "Nothing - i just wanted to make dinner tonight," you smile, "My treat tonight - you told me how hard practice has been getting so I wanted you to rest,"

Kagami had always been the one to cook, especially after practice, it was his way of winding down. It was his therpay. He tried to think of the last time you had cooked... realzing you had never. You usually were his assistant anytime you were in the kicthen. Always just chopping whatever he needed or getting whatever utensil he needed at the moment. As much as he wanted to tell you he had been thinking about the new roast beef recipe he saw online all pratice, he sighed, giving you a smile. "I'd love that-" he said, trying to hide hwo his heart fluttred at the thought of you doing something like this for him. He was used to being the one cooking, to be cooked for had his stomach doing flips.

But the once cute thought of you moving around the kitchen making something for him turned sour when he saw you actually cooking. He was a very by the books person, measuring everything down to a tee, using proper measureing tools to do so. He was sitting on the kicthen island, ready to step in when you needed help - but at that moment he was trying his hardest not to jump up and hand you a measuring spoon.

"How much is a 1/2 cups?" You ask as you glance up from the cooking book and to him. "Half a cup... from the measuring cup," he replied. But his answer fell on deaf ears as you grabbed the carten of heavy cream and began to pour it directly into the pot. Stopping to examine the amount, and adding a bit more. 2 teaspoons of salt, you just began to haphazardly put salt in, testing some of the pasta sause on a spoon, before adding more.

"Are you following the recipe?" he asked, trying not to sounc condecending as he forced a smile on his face. "Of course-" You scoff as you stir the pot. It seemed like you were taking the recipe as a suggestion more than a step by step instruction on how to make teh dish. Making up your own protions, not even bothering to step near the drawer with the measuing tools. He wouldn't admit it, but he had a micromanaging problem. Especially when it came to cooking. He would turn into a back seat driver, only for cooking, when someone else even thought about stepping near a heated surface. In an attempt to control himself as to not break your heart, he excused himself to go take a shower. Hoping that the nightmare would be over by the time he came out, preparing himself to put on a fake smile and eat all of what you had made, hoping there were leftovers in the fridge from the night before.

Sitting at the dinning table, he watched you bring in the plate of creamy garlic pasta. One of his favourite dishes. It smelled good, but most pasta was deceiving when it came to smell. The presentation was good. You sit down acorss from him, waiting for him to take a biite. He looked at the food, trying to mentally prepare his stomach for whatever concoction you had made him. He grabbed the fork, taking a hefty amount -only to make you happy - lifting it up and giving you a smile. "Bon appetite," He said, his voice a little uncertain. He looked at the food again, bringing it to his mouth, closing his eyes to brace himself for the taste. He put the fork in his mouth, not knowing what to expect.

"Oh my god-" he said, his eyes wide as he chewed the pasta. He looked shocked, as if he hadn't expected the taste. You stiffen up, a look of worry washing over your face. "Is it bad?" You frown. He looked at you, still chewing. "This is fucking delicious!" He said, mouth still full as he chewed.

And it had been. Better than his own. He didn't realize how hungry he was until he had swallowed the first bite. It was perfect, the perfect balance of all the flavours. He practically inhaled the entire pot you had made, leaving none for you.

It had taken him years to perfect his craft, years of failed and disgusting dinners in order to get him to where he was. But he figured some people were born with it. The way you would just measure with a glance, judge based off taste alone, and never doubted yourself when you carelessly added spices. Using the recipe books as a friendly suggestion while he read it like the gospel.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a littlr jealous of your talent.

_______________________

Kise:

Given his job, he travelled a lot. He prided himself in the fact that he had visisted so many countries, often bragging that he had picked up on some of the languages, self proclaming himself as a polyglot. Often showing off the minor phrases he had learned from the various countires he had visited. He knew it added to his charm, a good looking man such as himself complimenting a girl in a varity of languages.

Though his pronunciation was terrible, and the words he said often didn't grammatical make sense in that language, no one corrected him on the account that they didnt know the language and didnt know what the fuck he was saying. And he took every opportunity to show off his talent - if you could call it that.

Arriving in Dubai for a shoot, with you next to him, he knew this was the perfect opportunity to not only spoil you but to also woo you off your feet with his arabic. Though most of the people you two encountred spoke to you in english, he still used every opportunity to sneak in a little arabic in the conversation. Earning a polite nod from the person he was talking to, who was trying to figure out what he had just said, but he was too engrossed in his act to notice that.

He tried to steady himself as he stood barefoot in the sand, trying to hold the reign of the horse next to him, but the sweat forming in his hand made the leather slippery. They had been out in the sun for hours, and the ecessive clothes he had on did not help. He had hoped that they would have atleast put him something topless. The horse next to him neighed loudly, trying to move, making him break his pose. The photographer yelled for a break, instructing the horses caretaker to calm it down, giving them a few minutes rest. You walk up to him, with a small towel in hand. "You look good-" you say as you hold it out for him. He takes the towel and wipes his hands. "Its hot as hell-" he groaned. "I think I might faint fron dehydration-" and it was true. Though the clothes didnt show it, he had been sweating like crazy from standing in the sun for so long. He looks around, hoping to find someone to ask for some water. One of the assistants walk past him, holding a bottle of water. He turned to you. "Can you get me a water, please?" he asked. You look over to the man he was looking at, noticing the bottle aswell. "I don't know where they put them-" "Its okay-" he smiled. Time to impress you, once again.

He called out to the man in broken arabic. The man only looking because he heard him speak. Kise began to - try to anyways - ask him for a bottle of water. His pronunciation sounding better in his head. But he got the message across.

"water-" was the only semi coherent thing he was saying.

The man, after listening to him repeat this sentence a few times, replued back, asking if he wanted water. But it confused kise, it didn't sound like the arabic he was used to. The little arabic he did understand. He was about to just flat out ask in english, until you spoke up.

"Can you bring us two waters please?"

The man nodded, walkming away to where they had moved the water. Kise looked at you, confused. You look over at him. "Different dialect, im guessing Moroccan," you say casually, "I'm guessing that why he didn't understand you."

"Since when do you know arabic?" Kise asked, shocked at the sudden revalation. "I went to school with a lot of Arabs-" you shrug. "And you never told me?" He asked. You just shrugged. "I dont know much anyways-"

Which he came to find out was a flat out lie.

The entire trip consisted of him watching you effortlessly communicate with the locals, often stepping in to say what he was trying to say.

On the airport back, he let out a scoff while smiling. "I can't believe you never told me-" he said as he looked at you. "Didn't think it was that interesting," you shrug. Arriving at the check in counter, he hands your tickects and passports to the man behind the counter. The man accidentally ripped the edges of one of the tikcets, mumbling to himself as looked down at the rip. You reply back to the man, who seemed to perk up when he realized that you understood him. A sight that Kise had gone used to, the locals seeming impressed when you spoke the language - and though you didn't admit it - very fluently.

He smiled as you, taking pride in the fact that you sounded so beautiful when you spoke. The man and you talked for a bit, waving him goodbye when he had checked you in. Making your way to teh first class lounge, Kise turned to you. "What dialect was that? I didn't recognize it," he asked. "Oh that wasn't arabic. He spoke Dari-" you replied.

Kise froze. "what?" he asked confused. you stop and turn back to him. "Persian," you say, "Now c'mon, im starving, i want something to eat."

The whole flight back consisted of Kise asking you how many other languages you knew. Wondering how linguistically confused your kids would be groiwng up.

_____________________________

kise definitely yells Free Palestine on da top of his lungs. and i lub him for that.

[laneysmusings]

Hello hello! I've recently acquired the Mike Logan brainrot and I LOVE the fics you've written and I ADORE your tags about him!!

SO. I was wondering if you maybe, possibly, hopefully were willing to share any headcanons you have of him? 👉👈 If not then just delete this ask!

Thank you muchly!

it’s my birthday today, and it’s been a terrible one at that, but this ask literally made my face light up. I feel gifted by you — I would be HAPPY to provide headcanons of this gargantuan idiot, this hunk of massive Catholic guilt, my emotional support beleaguered detective

₊˚.༄ Mike Logan Headcanons

₊˚✦ he’s like, an adequate cook? Most likely good at breakfast in the morning and maybe some basic dishes, self sufficient so he doesn’t solely live off of takeout (but it’s like a quarter of his diet). I can’t say he can’t cook because it’s just not realistic. Boy’s gotta’ eat, y’know?

₊˚✦ Mike has trash coffee taste, takes it straight with maybe some cream or a sugar packet but refuses to try other things like blended drinks, will drink a cappuccino or an americano but hates being in a Starbucks

₊˚✦ UNLESS he gets spoilt and used to better coffee but then he’s doomed and cursed to the shit coffee at work and complains even more than usual. Which is a lot.

₊˚✦ I’ve got a feeling that, with being super progressive in his views, he definitely was one of those police officers in the beginning that everyone was shocked by. This little stinker, a raucous trouble maker, an OFFICER? PUHLEASE

₊˚✦ he’s so quick to fight for one (scrappy more like) he’s just got no fit outlet, so work became his outlet (terrible decision really) — but he’s got such hyperactivity and restlessness, probably born from some childhood PTSD and ADHD/ADD, that it just gnaws at him and lets him get too caught up in his emotions

₊˚✦ the boy needs therapy + AND NOT WITH LIZ

₊˚✦ cuddle bug but doesn’t look like it immediately — like sure he’s probably got some weird stuff with intimacy beyond sex (I can do a WHOLE other set of headcanons about this man’s issues with intimacy, both sexual and non sexual)

₊˚✦ but literally a cuddle bug, he will YANK his partner back into bed. he’s a lazy weekend guy and stands by it — it’s when he catches up on sleep and gets to take his time. He doesn’t shave on weekends either so he gets the perfect “I know I’m hot but I make it look effortless” stubble which is damning. Like fuck.

₊˚✦ I think when he works out he does cardio and maybe weight training but not all too much? Like above the minimum since he’s required to like, apprehend people, run chase and whatnot — but he’s not living at the gym if you catch my drift

₊˚✦ snores. he fucking snores look at that man and tell me he doesn’t snore.

₊˚✦ gets nightmares but doesn’t cope well with them — or have much if any good coping mechanisms honestly. Maybe later in life he’ll adapt some better ones, but everything he’d recommend to others, he wouldn’t do for himself.

₊˚✦ definitely not a “decorate his place for the holidays” person unless his partner is, then he’ll play along and get some fun out of it, but I doubt he’s got a box of decorations tucked away in some closet.

₊˚✦ speaking of closets — this man, oh I swear to god, has owned the same damn ties for like, 12+ years. What magic is in that fabric because I know he’s too cheap to buy good quality shirts and ties, maybe decent suits but still like department store, Macy’s suits. Joseph A. Bank maybe? I’m doubtful on Brooks Brothers, like there’s blood and probably brain matter on them all but fuck it, NYC dry cleaning. There’s also mustard stains, canonically, on them. He’s a slob, someone get this man a tide pen.

₊˚✦ lol all I can see now is him trying to iron his clothes in his apartment with the whole board and iron in like, a tank and boxers and mid-calf socks as he gets ready before work. Oh Dick Wolf you had so much promise with this man.

₊˚✦ he definitely has played and probably would play in the police recreational baseball league, it’s mentioned in an episode and he’s passionate about the Yankees. I’m torn between him actually sporting baseball gear or if it’s really casual with jeans and jerseys and baseball caps. (Pls pls pls PLEASE)

₊˚✦ ooh I’m not sure when he changed it but he used to wear a gold crucifix, fuck my life, but stopped wearing it later on and I’m wondering if it’s due to him taking a bigger step away from Catholicism? Like he’s absolutely a lapsed Catholic with terrible experiences in both home and church, it makes sense for him to be conflicted if not repelled from religion. I’d like to think out of habit he may still go to holiday midnight masses, and sometimes on his own for the quiet and the near-anonymity.

₊˚✦ I’m thinking that leather coat of his he wears around all the time, even in the snow like a fucking moron, may have been a gift or one of his bigger purchases for himself. Like something he saved up for or found and just, let himself have the little luxury. Coats like that are expensive and high quality, he wears the same damn one nearly every episode in both the original series and when he was on criminal intent.

₊˚✦ it may just be me projecting, but I feel like he’s got a record collection. Probably some old record player and some nice speakers, milk crates full of records that he has to bend over to sort through, groaning about his back all the while. Definitely a lot of jazz standards and the greats like Sinatra, as he mentions in the series at some point, Martin, Baker, Fitzgerald, Armstrong, Cooke, Davis, etc plus some classic rock, stuff like the typical dad rock™️ — doesn’t peg me as a frequent flyer for concerts but goes for really good shows, he’s a medium venue person not the intimate ones but not the giant stadiums either. He likes Billy Joel but isn’t vocal about it.

₊˚✦ he’s got clutter in his place, a little too cramped but it makes it homey, not decorative but at least lived in. Things are more out in the open than put away, he’s more visual and muscle memory based than having things stored away.

₊˚✦ lastly, a massive sweet tooth. A snacker, keeps things in the drawer of his desk to munch on between meals. He’s got more snacks than ingredients to cook with in his home kitchen and I stand by that. He looks like he would enjoy pretzels a lot, like a lot. And other salty snacks, but definitely an ice cream, eat out the tub kinda’ guy. I’m betting Raspberry, Chocolate, or Strawberry. Maybe a chocolate fudge if he’s feeling a little wild.

Note: I’d literally be more than happy to expand on any of these if not write even more headcanons

[ptolomeia]

Who wants to hear my thoughts on how my disability, fatness and grief all intersect?

If the answer is not you, please press j to continue to the next post!

So, we're coming up on a year now since our disability meant we had to come to terms with the fact that we would never be able to work and had to drop out of school for our dream job and become a housebound/bedbound lump person. Now my dream job was in construction, it was unionized and extremely well paid and I was three months short of graduating when reality became undeniable. I was never going to be able to do this.

I may have been the only person in my class who had to double check the weight capacity of my harness and shock absorber, but I was fucking good at the work. One of my teachers had me tutoring classmates before the brain fog made that impossible. And while it was hard to find clothes that fit me, mens clothes typically came in larger sizes, which worked for me.

And then came MECFS, slowly robbing my life of, well, most things really. Including, but very much not limited to, my sense of identity and my dream job.

Being a poor student, I didn't really have many clothes that didn't fit with that life. And being very fat, i couldnt exactly go to a mall and buy fast fashion that suited me better for cheap. So, I find myself almost a year down the line with still not many clothes that make me feel good or happy or non additional grief.

Which brings me to my next set of issues. Due to sensory and temperature regulation issues, I can only wear natural breathable fibers (another thing that cuts me off from fast fashion). Between the exhaustion from my ME/CFS and my sensory issues, shopping is hard on me.

But HAHA! I think. I've been sewing on and off for near two decades now (ow my brain). I can just sew myself a new wardrobe! Besides, the non construction worker styles I like (vintage 40s-50s) is even harder to find plus sized, well fitting anyway. If I can't do my dream job, at least I can enjoy some expertly sewn (eh, close enough), perfectly (that could probably use some quotes) fitting clothes in a style I've long loved but thought impractical!

Except, here's the thing. Sewing requires energy. Laying out and cutting out fabric requires energy. It requires precision and focus and when I only have a few good hours a day and have to take care of myself and my home on top of my sewing ambitions...

Last summer I made a pair of shorts (two front pieces, two back pieces, a fly, a waist band, belt loops, 4 pockets and facings) in three days at the start of my decline, and that was on top of doing some basic renovations at my parents house. Last month, an extremely simple t-shirt (front, back, two sleeves and a neckband) took me... a week? More? And there's so much more I want to make working through my stash. Pj's that aren't falling apart. A new raincoat and a new fall coat. A simple 1950s style dress in a wonderfully loud plaid that would just be so much fun.

But this morning I was trying to get my jersey to lie flat and nearly ended up crying (knits are the devil fabric. Curse them and their comfort and stretch). There are days where it feels like there is nothing this disease won't take from me.

But at the same time... even if a year ago I could have trimmed assembled and cut out a pattern in one day, at least today I got to trim the papers? And even if cutting out that jersey took more fabric that it strictly needed to, at least I'm one step closer to having some new, hole free pjs.

So, even as i grieve the many many things I lost, I try to hold to what I still can do. And also rail against the world for making things harder for fat people than they need to be. Because seriously, I'm having to learn to make my own patterns (and yes, they will fit better but that is not the point) because most patterns (and definitely none of the big commercial ones) come in anything close to my measurements. This makes me extremely annoyed.

But yeah, to sum up, disability, fatness, grief, and hope all make a very complex ball. And I wish it could be easier

[sukunaspinkyfinger]

ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴅᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ ꜱᴀᴋᴇ

ꜱᴏɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ: ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴅᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʏ - ꜱᴀᴍᴜʀᴀɪ

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ: ᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀʟᴄᴏʜᴏʟ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ

The sun begins to set on the never-sleeping Night City as I carefully drive through Jig-jig Street, one of the most bustling locations in the Westbrook area. As a little ritual, I always tend to close all my successful gigs with a drink, doesn't matter how long I have to be stuck behind these god-forsaken wheels.

I promised myself - N, once you take care of her, you're going to spend all your precious eddies on a type-66 Cthulhu, cuz' that baby is not cheap.

as I park the car in front of Jina's, I hesitantly open my sun-visor, which reveals an old picture of my beautiful, big sister Utahime. I smile proudly at her, as she smiles back with her typical mom-like expression. easily the prettiest, smartest girl in Watson district, graduated at the top of her class at Arasaka Academy, nice, family-oriented girl...and a great fucking netrunner, under some big-shot corpofuck. She would definitely scold me for getting shit-faced at a bar after doing dangerous jobs. I laugh, though my smile turns sour.

She would definitely scold me if she wasn't in a vegetative state since 2071 because of a work accident that fried her brain beyond belief while trying to hack into some shady agent's data board. at least fucking Arasaka was nice enough to send her last paycheck, then abandon her, erasing her from the database to avoid any kind of scandal. she and many others deserve better.

"love you, sis, be home soon." I kiss her photo as I put on my sunglasses and make my way over to Jina's, whose entrance is already being guarded by Tyger Claws p̶u̶n̶k̶s̶ members.

"hey baby, nice tits you got there. how much for an hour?" the Japanese tyger claw winks at me seconds before the translation implant reveals his chivalrous intentions. since I don't usually want trouble with these guys, I present him with a cute smile as I try really hard not to throw up in my mouth.

"Thanks, um, is Jina in today?" the guy doesn't even bother to take his eyes off of my cleavage.

"ye, baby, just switched shifts. you her friend?"

"mmhm. anyway, thanks for the info. wouldn't wanna keep you guys busy, so, see ya."

I blow him a goodbye kiss as I push open the glass door, which reveals my haven since I became a merc. pretty girls dancing in every corner, highlighted by neon lights, the smell of lust, and cheap tobacco. I spot Jina and her signature goddess braids right away, tending the bar in her little apron. I take my seat closest to her, she spots me as I take off my sunglasses and gifts me with a warm smile and a shot of Amel.

"I was wondering when you'd show your pretty face again. cheers."

the taste of good old Amel sends chills down my spine as the sour, bitter, and hot liquid coats my needy tongue, making me yearn for more as I take out my rusty cigarette case. thankfully, Jina is already a step ahead.

"It's only been two days, Jina. but I know what you mean. gigs are comin' in hot but-"

"but the pay's shit. you don't have to tell me, I see it in your crusty eyes, madam." she pauses as she hands me an ashtray and another shot. "how's your sis?"

"same, ol'. still can't figure out if she even knows who I am...but that's why these shit gigs are worth it, Jina, cuz' one day-" I down the shot as I point at her with a proud smile. "one day she will be her old self again and the crusty eyes, gunshot wounds, sleepless nights will all be worth it."

we continue to talk for hours, what seems like minutes as I keep downing the liquid gold that oh so sweetly burns my throat. we talk, we dance, we smoke, we drink until the clock turns to midnight as I drift off to a land of dreams, completely closing out the noises around me.

I wake up in a fluffy bed, annoyed by whoever decided to keep the blinds open, but since the sun decided to wake me up so rudely I rise and follow the sound of delicate music. My skin erupts in goosebumps as my feet touch the ice-cold floor, I walk mindlessly in the direction of what seems to be a kitchen tended by a woman whose black ponytail dances freely to the classical music coming from the radio.

"tsk, tsk, tsk. look who decided to show up! and I thought I'm going to be eating breakfast alone again."

my eyes widen and my blood stops in my veins as my big sister turns around with a huge plate of goodies in her hand.

"what, are you hangover again? for god's sake, N, how often did I tell you to stop drinking during the week? sit down and eat, you can take a pill after that."

I instinctively obey her and take place at the dinner table, but as soon as I look up we find ourselves in a different scenario. this time, we are sitting outside in the sun. Utahime wears a thin, red sundress while reading a magazine, slurping on some icy drink. the way her expression changes as soon as she spots some juicy gossip, I get reminded of our mother. the endless similarities scare me sometimes.

"Isn't it so pretty outside? sometimes I forget we're in Night City."

Utahime smiles as she pours me a drink.

"the only way someone forgets they're in Night City is if they have a sister with a cushy job like mine."

right, I almost forgot how well off we used to be when Utahime was working for big-shot corpos. sure, I already had a job when I was seventeen, but that chump change of eurodollars wasn't even cousins with the amount Utahime was making.

"true, but it's not bad to forget sometimes." she takes off her shades and slowly looks at me. "you should forget about me, N."

her words strike me like the bullet in my shoulder from that maelstrom gang member last week. I open my mouth to ask her what she means, to protest, to curse at her, but nothing comes out. the sudden vibration in my pocket pulls me out of the dream and I yank my phone. God save the fucker on the end of the line.

"da fuck you wan'?"

after a couple of seconds of baffled silence, my ripperdoc, Shoko starts to speak.

"I should've guessed you're in some ditch drinking your liver away."

"ouhh, heyyy Shoko. M'bad, m'sry for bein' a bitch. Wassup?"

she lets out a disappointed sigh, I could make out some unfamiliar voices in the background.

"Listen, N, I need you to pull yourself together. someone I know has a job for you, important."

"mhhm, okay. just...just send me the deets. call you back in the morni-"

"No, N, listen to me. The job is from..." She stops mid-sentence while her heels bring her to a more secure spot. "Fucking listen to me, this job is what you've been looking for. High risk, high eddies but I know you need this and I know you can handle it. The job is from fucking Sukuna Ryomen. You have one hour to get back to me, I expect to hear back from you."

she hangs up immediately and before I know it, my feet are unconsciously dragging me towards the restroom. Sukuna Ryomen's name echoes through my mind as the nasty mix of enchiladas and amel exists through my mouth.

Sukuna Ryomen, 43 years old, has been around as long as I can remember. Came from Tokyo to the NUSA, began his career as a street boxer, won every street and official fight in Night City, until he retired and rebranded; today, he is a rich businessman and the leader of The Unwanted, a mid-sized gang that unofficially controls the Westbrook district. Word on the street is, that the less they are the more dangerous. You need high-tech weapons, cyberware, information? You seek out Sukuna. You need someone to be offed? He is your best man. He even convinced big-shot netrunners like Geto Suguru to work for him, a huge accomplishment. That man single-handedly offed 52 netrunners just by hacking into their network, while exposing classified information about a plague that caused the death of more than 14 million people. Geto Suguru was/is a one-man army and bowed to no one until he did to Sukuna Ryomen.

my mind continues to race as I wash my mouth and face, Shoko's words echoing like a never-ending record. I quickly run to the counter and pay Jina for her service, I sprint to my car without a word. My trembling hands take out Utahime's picture and I just smile.

this could be our big break, 'hime. i do this job, i climb up the ladder, we get you that treatment and you'll be back to your normal self again. this is it, 'hime, this is it!

i swiftly start the car and make my way to Kabuki, where Shoko's clinic resides, praying that the badges don't notice my blatant drunk driving.

gotta do this, for her sake. for our sake.

[uenodivision]

ARB Birthday Special 2024: Aranai Norikoru

~~ June 21st ~~

"I'd rather be hated for who I am than be loved for who I'm not."

Login Lines:

"...Wait, what's this?! Every delivery slot is empty today? Who the hell messed with my schedule?!"

"Oh… it's 'cause it's my birthday. ...Right, I did set that up, didn't I? Kinda slipped my mind, with everything else going on. Well, that's a surprise I managed to give myself."

Voice Lines:

"22 already? Feels like just yesterday I was tearing up the f'ing streets, not a care in the whole world. Time sure has a way of sneaking up on you. It's like I've been riding at full throttle and the years are just blurs on the roadside. Sometimes, I look in the mirror and expect to see that wild kid staring back. But she's slowly changing, bit by bit."

"High school's in the rearview now, thank God. Took me almost three f'ing years, but I did it, I graduated. Shisuta's all about hitting the books again, talking 'bout college. But me? I'm not sure I'm cut out for more tests and lectures. I crave the freedom of the open road, not the stuffiness of classrooms."

"Shisuta, she's like this lighthouse in a storm. Always guiding me back when I stray too far. And Kisouna, she's tough as nails, but she's got this soft spot for her kid that gets me. Makes me wonder... what's my soft spot? What's gonna be the thing that makes me wanna stick around?"

"Looking ahead, the road's uncertain. Delivering packages, dodging the cops, spitting rhymes – it's a life. But is it the life? I've got dreams, but they're like shadows at dusk, all shifting and elusive. Maybe this year, I'll catch one, make it real."

"Hey Mom, thanks for the birthday wishes. Yeah, it's been a decent day… and hey, can you believe it? I'm finally done with high school." *Sighs* "I know that look, Shisuta. College talk, right? Just… I'm not sure yet, okay? I promise you, I'm really thinking hard about it. Let's just… not do this today, okay? ...Thanks. Really, it's nothing against you, I just... I just don't want to think about school right now."

"So, what's this? Wow, this is… really something. You made this? It's pretty badass, in a Shisuta kind of way. Thanks, Mom. It’s like carrying a piece of the Clan with me. …Yeah, I'll wear it. It's cool, and it’s from you, so it means a lot."

"Boss-Lady, what's up? …Wow. A birthday wish from you, of all people? Now that is a surprise. …Ha, if someone had told me we'd still be on the same team, I'd have probably knocked them flat. But here we are, still not having managed to kill each other… yet."

"What is this? ...A piece of paper? ...A career counseling session?! What the fuck, Boss-Lady?! …Ugh, you are such a cheap…! …You know what? Fine, I'll accept this. But just so you know, I’m already plotting your next birthday 'surprise'."

Shisuta Lines:

"A most joyous and bless-filled birthday, Aranai-chan! I hope it is going well for you. And congratulations on passing high school! It was truly a blessing to see you walk across the stage, diploma in hand! Speaking of which, now that you are done with high sch... ...I know you probably don't want to speak of it, but... it's just that..." *Sighs* "...Very well, Aranai-chan. Just promise you'll give it some serious thought, okay? I'm not trying to control your life, really. I just don't want you to have any regrets is all."

"But enough seriousness for one day! This is meant to be a day of celebration, so... I'd like you to have this! ...It's a scarf I made! My first one. I wanted to try something different from bouquets, and I know it's probably not good, but I hope you like it. ...I'm glad you like it, dear. A happy birthday to you again. And remember, I always love you, regardless."

Kisouna Lines:

"Happy birthday, Aranai." *Sighs* "...You know, if someone had told me that after all these years we'd still be teammates together, I'd have probably found some sort of excuse to arrest them. Because dealing with you is a full-time job. ...Don't tempt me, you little miscreant."

"Anyway, for you." *Sighs* "...Look on the other side, Aranai. ...Yes, it's a career-counseling session. ...Now before you go off on one of your little tangents, calm down and listen. Shisuta-san informed me you were having trouble figuring out what to do now that you're done with school, so I looked online for some people that could help. ...Good, I expect you to make use of that. It could really be of some assistance. ...Great, I'm literally jumping for joy right now. Thank you, Aranai."

[metalhead-brainrot]

[Album of the day] The Healing Process - Locked Inside Yourself

Milan, ITA // 2022

[Genres] tech thrash

[Themes] conformity, society, medication

[FFO] instrumentation over production

[Thoughts] I post a lot of tech death, but tech thrash is a tad harder to find. I love it all the same, though; I'm a total Voivod Bro. And while this debut album by The Healing Process is not what I would call "Voivod worship," the instrumentation is incredible and a must-listen for any thrashers.

I've been posting more Italian metal recently, and maybe it's no coincidence; the closing track of Locked Inside Yourself, "When all is Said and Done," is a reminder that the culture has been perfecting the guitar for centuries.

The caveat to this album is the production: it's pretty low. So the recommendation is the opposite of what I would normally say, to ditch your headphones and turn on the speaker. Per the artist:

FOR AN OPTIMAL LISTENING EXPERIENCE, PLAY THE ALBUM ON GOOD STEREO SPEAKERS, POSSIBLY BASS-BOOSTED. I think that headphones don't do justice to the mixing, but chances are you've got better headphones than the cheap ones I use.

The garage-level production is more authentic to the origins of thrash metal anyway; the notion at the time was very punk. Anyone could start a band, and only the talented will prevail.

Final note: The Healing Process documented all the instruments and recording tech used (almost obsessively). That's on the bandcamp page if you're curious.

o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::> o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::> o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::>

[From the band/label]

The Healing Process debut album is a pounding tech-thrash record which keeps the listener enthralled from start to finish with all its variations and changes of rhythm. The band has had a "classical" approach to songwriting, so in some of the songs the listener might recognise the "theme and variations" pattern that serves as a foundation for many classical pieces. And if you think this was an extract of some review, well I'm not gonna lie: I've just made it up. I also want to add: the album was home-recorded for the most part, the budget was very limited and my knowledge of home-recording even more limited. I thought I had something to say, so I really wanted these songs to be recorded and published and I don't see why I shouldn't have done it. Metal (especially Thrash) used to be all about songwriting and cheap productions, not because bands didn't want their albums to sound good, but because they couldn't afford it (here I am). Today it's all about who's got the biggest... sound equipment and many people with interesting ideas are giving up because of the ridiculously high standards set by some internet metal guru (there are quite a few). This album is (also) a big fuck you to this mindset, which hinders creativity. If you have something to say, just say it, and try to make it sound as good as possible (if possible), without worrying too much about what people are going to say. By the way, I think my album sounds very good and I'm satisfied with how it's turned out to be. Lastly, I strongly believe in the social function of music and I wanted to tell people about what I think is really wrong with our society, and there's no better genre than metal to be pissed off! This is not an attempt to tell others how they should live or which battles they are supposed to fight: my goal was to inform, but not in the way the news do, more like poetry does (a bit pretentious). A good dose of research was done to approach some of the most controversial themes tackled in the album (if you have listened to the record, you know what I am talking about), but again I don't want people to take my words for granted, just to shed a light on some issues from another angle, the angle that I think is right. For the moment, the album will be released on Bandcamp only, which I think is the only "sustainable" platform for emerging artists. I have a feeling that many bands aren't happy with how streaming services have revolutionised the music industry, yet they keep posting their music on streaming platforms for "visibility". This small "revolution" needs to start from us small bands, 'cause the big guys couldn't care less. Bandcamp allows bands to be directly supported by their fans, which is the only way someone can keep making music for years. I really hope that this will be the future of streaming. If you've read this far, you're a badass.