#gotta wake up for work??? lame

[annabellebuns]

quick one for the night

[hoshifighting]

WARNINGS: non-stabilished relationship, oral (f.receiving), big!cock vernon, semi-public sex, reader is bent over the university's rooftop railing, alcohol, hangover, ditch classes, mentions of getting caught,

thinking about college fling!vernon so badddd 😫

college fling!vernon that you would meet in one of those lame college dorm things that somehow ends up being packed even though the music’s trash, drinks are watered down, and you can’t move without bumping into some dude playing beer pong way too seriously. seungkwan’s buzzing around, doing his best “life of the party” impression, talking to anyone who’ll listen—mostly about how great his friend vernon is (the boy that looked too quiet for the setting) “you gotta meet him,” seungkwan had said earlier, face glowing like he'd just won the lottery. you’d been mid-sip of some cheap punch that tasted more like regret than alcohol. but you nodded because why not? you’re there, stuck, might as well meet the guy.

so here you are, watching vernon from across the room, trying to look like you’re not watching him. he's got this frank ocean shirt on, the one that’s slightly faded, like it’s seen too many nights like this, and you can’t help it—you have to comment on it, break the ice before this gets any more awkward. “nice shirt,” you say, sliding up next to him, trying to sound casual like you didn’t just spend the last five minutes psyching yourself up to say that.

vernon looks at you, and there’s this second where you swear he’s sizing you up, not in a judgy way, just like... observing. “thanks,” he replies, voice low, almost lazy. “you a fan?” you nod, and he gives you this small, almost imperceptible smile. it’s the kind of smile that makes you feel like you’ve passed some sort of test, like you said the right thing. and just like that, the awkwardness melts. he loves music, that much is clear, and suddenly you’re talking about frank ocean’s best album like you’ve known each other for years.

the thing with vernon? he doesn’t say much. but he’s got this way of looking at you—direct, almost too direct, like he’s daring you to break the eye contact first. you’re talking, yeah, but his eyes are doing most of the work. they flicker over you in that slow, lazy way, like he’s got all the time in the world to take you in, to make you squirm.

and you do squirm. because damn, when was the last time someone looked at you like that? like they see you?

he doesn't try to hide it either—the fact that he finds you hot. there’s no playing it cool with vernon, no pretending he’s just here for the conversation. but he’s not crass about it; it’s more subtle than that. like, instead of throwing some cheesy pick-up line your way, he just lets his eyes do the talking, like the way they drop to your lips when you laugh, or the way they linger on the curve of your neck when you turn your head. it’s fucking magnetic, honestly. you’re not even sure if you’re saying anything coherent anymore, but you’re still talking because it feels like a game now. you want to see how long you can keep this up, how long you can hold his gaze without breaking.

so, somehow, after that intense stare-off that lasted way too long, the night blurred after things got a little hazy after the third round of whatever cheap alcohol was in that red solo cup. the party faded into background noise, and all you could really focus on was vernon—how his hand would brush against yours, how his eyes didn’t leave your face, even when you weren't looking. and damn, the way he kissed you, slow at first, but chocking you at the same time, had you practically yanking him back to your room by the end of the night.

college fling!vernon that is butt-naked in your bed in the morning. as you wake up to a dull throb in your head and an even duller one between your legs, the kind of discomfort that reminds you exactly what went down last night. you hiss, eyes squinting against the light filtering in through your half-assed curtains, feeling the sheets sticking to your bare skin.

you groan, sitting up slowly, body protesting every movement. your legs feel a little wobbly, and as the blanket shifts, you wince at the slight sting between your thighs. it’s not intolerable, but enough to remind that you definitely overdid it.

vernon stirs beside you, stretching out like a cat before blinking his eyes open. he sees you, and without a word, sits up, grabbing a half-empty water bottle from your desk. instead of handing it to you like a normal person, he holds it out without the cap—just letting you sip straight from it. it’s messy, some of the water spills on your chest, but whatever, you’re too thirsty to care. you down it in a couple of gulps, the cool liquid soothing your dry throat.

you’re about to bitch about it, complain about your sore muscles or whatever, but vernon’s eyes are already on you, half-lidded but sharp, like he knows exactly what’s going on in that head of yours. before you can even think about capping the bottle, vernon’s already leaning down, shifting the covers off of you, and making his way between your legs. “gonna help with that hangover,” he murmurs, hands gently parting your thighs as he settles down, face close enough to your core that your breath catches. and yeah, you’re hungover, sore, but the second his mouth touches you, all that discomfort? gone.

he’s sloppy, so sloppy, like he’s thirsty for it. his tongue drags over you in these messy, wet strokes that have you gasping, body tensing under his touch. vernon’s got this way of eating you out that’s chaotic and precise. like, one second he’s all over the place, licking you like he can’t get enough, and the next, he’s right there, focused on your clit, swirling his tongue in tight circles that make your toes curl.

“shit, vernon,” you gasp, your hand instinctively finding his hair, tugging as he goes at it like it’s his fucking job.

the slurping, the little moans he’s making like he’s the one getting off—it’s obscene. he’s not even trying to be neat about it, just going all in, licking you like he’s lost in it, like he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. and honestly? u don’t want him to. not with the way your hips are lifting off the bed, chasing his mouth, chasing that high that’s building so fast it’s almost embarrassing. your hand shoots to his hair, tangling in it, pulling him closer because jesus christ, this is—

“so fucking good—ah!”

your body arches off the bed, thighs trembling as he pushes you over the edge faster than you can even process. the orgasm slams into you, fast and hard, and all you can do is ride it out, his mouth still on you, not stopping until you’re completely wrecked. you cum in record time, panting and shaking, and vernon pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like it was nothing.

“feel better now?” he asks, voice all smug and hoarse, and you want to say something—anything—but your brain’s too scrambled to form words. he chuckles, before crawling back up the bed, like he didn’t just ruin you before breakfast. he knows he’s got you.

college fling! vernon that when you’re sitting in class, staring at some powerpoint slides that you know you're never going to remember, your phone buzzes in your lap. half paying attention, you glance down at the screen. it's a message from vernon, and already, a smirk tugs at the corner of your lips because you know this dude barely makes it through class without some kinda stunt.

“yo. wanna ditch?” is all it says, and you can already picture him slouched in the back row of his own class, practically melting from boredom. god, he’s so bad at hiding when he’s bored. you bite your lip, torn between ignoring it like a good student or just saying fuck it—like you always do when it comes to him. why even pretend? with a quick glance to make sure the professor’s not paying attention, you text back:

“where we going?”

he sends the location pin. and it’s for the rooftop.

now, you know the university rooftop’s supposed to be off-limits. it’s plastered with no entry signs, and apparently, they’ve got some security guards roaming around to make sure no one goes up there. but vernon? he doesn’t give a fuck about rules, and, honestly, neither do you when he’s involved.

five minutes later, you’re sneaking out of class, the adrenaline already starting to build as you make your way up the stairwell, heart racing. when you finally push open the heavy door to the rooftop, vernon’s already there, leaning against the rail, hat on backwards, that signature lazy grin spreading across his face when he sees you.

“thought you might leave me hangin’,” he teases, eyes flicking down to your legs as you walk up to him.

“you wish,” you scoff, rolling your eyes but feeling the heat rise between you two the second you’re standing next to him. the air up here is cooler, but with vernon looking at you like that? it’s making it hot, at least down there.

“so... what now?” you ask, though you know exactly what he’s got in mind.

he doesn’t answer right away, just steps behind you, hands sliding down your waist, squeezing your hips as he pushes you gently toward the railing. “bend over,” he mutters.

you hesitate for a second, glancing at the drop below you. “you want me to fall off this fucking roof?”

vernon laughs under his breath, stepping closer until his body presses into yours. “nah, i got you. promise.”

you roll your eyes but do as he says, leaning over the edge, gripping the metal railing for balance. your heart’s pounding in your chest, half from the thrill of getting caught, half from the fact that you’re so fucking turned on. and when you bend over, purposely sticking your ass out, vernon lets out a low whistle.

“goddamn,” he mutters, hands gripping your hips harder, fingers digging into your skin. “you always gotta tease me like that?”

“maybe,” you throw over your shoulder, a smug smile on your lips as you give your hips a little shake, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him.

“fuck.” he groans, and you can hear him fumbling with his belt behind you. the sound of the metal buckle makes your breath catch, and soon his cock’s out, heavy against your skin as he drags it along your entrance. he’s teasing you back now, taking his time, like he’s trying to make you beg for it.

“you want it?” his voice a little strained. you can almost picture the way his brows are furrowed, cheeks probably turning pink from how hard he is.

“you’re too fucking big to be playing games like this, vernon,” you shoot back, though the words come out breathier than you intended.

that makes him pause, his grip on your hips tightening, and when he finally slides inside you, you feel the stretch—god, you feel all of him. it makes you gasp, your fingers clutching the metal railing as your body adjusts to how thick he is, pushing in until he's buried to the hilt. vernon’s groan is low and drawn out, like he’s losing his mind a little, too. “shit. you—” he starts, voice hitching, “you feel so fucking good.” you moan in response, pushing back against him, and that’s all he needs. he grabs you by the waist, holding you tight—so tight you’re sure there’ll be bruises tomorrow—and starts fucking into you, each thrust rocking your body against the railing.

“hold on,” he growls, one hand sliding up your back to grip your shoulder, pulling you back against him, making sure you don’t fall forward. the metal of the railing digs into your stomach, but you’re too lost in the feeling of him pounding into you to care. your knees r weak, but vernon’s holding you so tightly that you don’t even have to think about standing.

“fuck, vernon,” you moan, turning your head to try and catch a glimpse of him. his jaw’s clenched, beads of sweat gathering at his temple, but when he catches your eye, he looks embarrassed for a split second.

you manage a smirk. “you’re—fuck—big.”

he blushes, actually blushes, but he doesn’t stop. if anything, he fucks you harder, grunting something that sounds like an unite of a complaint and a thank you. his hat’s still backwards, so you grab it, yanking him down into a sloppy kiss, lips crashing together as his hips slam into you, fucking you into the rooftop’s edge.

he pulls away just long enough to bite out, “we’re gonna get caught if you keep moaning like that.”

“then stop fucking me so good,” you snap back, voice shaky as he hits that perfect spot inside you.

vernon just grins, all cocky now, and mutters, “never.” with a deep thrust that makes you see white, angels and everything.

he doesn’t stop until you’re both cumming, bodies so in sync that you don’t even notice the footsteps until they’re too close. panic flickers in your chest as you realize someone’s coming—probably a guard—but vernon just pulls out quick, shoving you behind a vent as the guard makes his rounds. both of you are a sweaty, fucked-out mess, trying not to laugh as you adjust your clothes, and vernon gives you one of those signature smirks.

“guess we’ll have to finish this next time”

[girlleon]

SPACE BETWEEN

uncle!leon kennedy x fem!reader

warnings: uncle-niece incest, 18+. content below the cut, vomit (non-sexual capacity), age gap (early-mid 30s to late teens-early 20s). fingering, oral (f! receiving, piv, creampie… Leon’s kind of a simp and lame tbh. ddlg undertones, just a little. heaps of praise :3

i got inspired by uncle from nicole dollanganger tbh.

“I want to marry my Uncle Leon!” you said when you were seven, smiling up at him with two front teeth missing, chubby baby arms wrapped around his thigh.

Half-uncle, really, but that’s semantics. It’s like someone saying the sky is blue and another person saying it’s turquoise. They’re both right, one’s just really fucking annoying about it.

He also thought you’d say you wanted to marry your dad, because that’s pretty common with kids. Most girl’s dads or brothers are their first loves, so he was pleasantly surprised at the honor of being your chosen husband.

Unfortunately, you’re also seven, and that’s very illegal.

Your dad chuckles and doesn’t bother to try and peel you off. He tried that once and you went back to sticking to him like sweat, so he didn’t bother after that.

“Do you have a wife, Uncle Leon?” You ask him, smiling up at him so sweetly. You got those dimples from your mom, and he’ll never admit it, but they melt his heart just a little.

“No, sweetheart.” He reaches down and ruffles your hair. “I’m all yours for the taking.”

You beam up at him, even as he messes up your hair. “Good! ‘Cause you’re all mine!”

Your dad snorts, promptly looking innocent when Leon glares at him halfheartedly.

“That’s right.” Leon lugs you up into his arms, kissing your temple and giving you the faintest smile. “I’m all yours.”

He sees you a little less and less as the years wear on. He’s busy and you’re busy and grow from a sweet kid to a petulant preteen to an awkward teenager.

He’s still the first one you call, though, when you’re sixteen and drunk at a house party you shouldn’t be at. You’re swaying a little as he pulls up to the curb.

Leon leans over and opens the door for you—you toddle over and slam his door shut with a soft apology. “I didn’t wanna be there anymore.” You say, looking more than a little uncomfortable. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad, sweetheart.” He reaches over and rubs your shoulder. “I’m glad that you called me instead of your dad.”

“Thanks.” You’re a little tacky with sweat and smell like a brewery and some sickly sweet floral perfume when you lean over to put your head on his shoulder. Baby’s first grown-up perfume instead of the body spray they sell at bath and body works. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“I’m still glad it was me.” Leon reiterates, kissing the top of your head. “C’mon, sweet girl, let’s get you home. Seatbelt on.”

You pull away reluctantly, buckling in your seatbelt with clumsy hands. “I know, I know. I got the riot act from my doctor when I got the physical done for the permit. Seatbelts yes, swerving no.” You grumble, pushing a sparkly hand through your hair.

He snorts, starting the car and pulling away from the curb. “Is that everything?”

“She said she’d pull my license if she caught me.” You reply, propping a temple on your fist. “‘Cause she’s a doctor and a mandatory performer—reporter. Mandatory reporter.”

Leon can’t help a quiet chuckle, even when you swat at him. “You got there in the end.”

The quiet roll of the car rocks you right to sleep, and he sneaks glances at you as he moves around pot holes and takes speed bumps slowly to avoid jostling you awake and fucking up his suspension. Cute, your nose still twitches like a bunny’s when you sleep. He thinks you got that from your mom too.

He gently wakes you up when he’s stopped in front of your house, reaching over and unbuckling your seatbelt before petting your head. “Gotta wake up, sweetheart, come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

You groan behind a closed mouth, face scrunching up. “No…”

He almost laughs. “Come on, I’ll help you up and out.” He unbuckles his seatbelt and jogs over to your side when he’s out of the car, opening the door and bodily carrying you out of the car.

The movement’s a little much and you gag, sweat breaking out on your skin.

Leon aims you away from himself just in time, rubbing your back as you puke loudly in your yard. He reaches over and holds your hair back with a grimace. “You’re alright. You’re okay. Just get it out.” He murmurs, rubbing your back once you stop retching.

When you straighten up, he wipes your mouth and his hand on his jeans. “You’ll feel a bit better in the morning.” Leon tells you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and leading you to the front door. You fumble a little for your house keys, but get inside after he kisses your temple and wishes you a goodnight. “‘Night, Leon.”

“Night.” He repeats, gently shutting the door behind you. He goes back to his car and drives home, that sickly perfume smell lingering on the seats like you personally cropdusted them.

Vanilla, white florals, he thinks he smells coffee before it lapses into a sort of acrid smell. Otherwise, perfectly inoffensive on you, perfectly inoffensive to anyone with a working nose, to be honest.

He wishes you’d wear something a little more offensive, strong, something definitively you. Florals tend to be powdery and come off as something an old lady would wear, and that’s not very sexy at all, is it?

Cherry, he thinks would fit you perfectly well. Strawberries. Maybe they make apple perfumes.

When Christmas rolls around, he does exactly that, after skulking around Ulta and eventually asking for perfume recommendations from an associate.

Leon comes back with something strawberry, something jasmine and red berries. He splurged a little bit on a gingerbread perfume, but he doesn’t mind, might as well have something festive to give you.

When it comes time to get the gang together, he tosses it all in a pretty, sparkly bag with blue tissue paper and a tag with your name on it because he’s shit at wrapping gifts.

You cling to him a little tighter with the greeting hug he gives you. Maybe you’re still grateful he didn’t snitch about the party.

Either way, Leon returns the tight hug and gives you a pointed smile as he asks, “How’ve you been?”

You, to your credit, barely flinch, though he can see in your eyes you know exactly what he’s talking about. “Been good, glad to be out of school for the next two weeks. Merry Christmas.”

He clicks his tongue, then disengages and steers you over to the living room and sits right next to you after depositing his gift for you under the Christmas tree. “Merry Christmas. Yeah, I bet. No more waking up at six in the morning for the bus at six-forty. Been staying out of trouble?” He gives you a sly look, head cocking just to the side.

Your eyes narrow at him playfully as you smile back despite yourself. “Yeah. I’ve been too busy with work to really get up to something bad.”

“Ah, that’s the way to keep it.” He slings an arm over the back of the couch, getting up after a moment to get himself a bit of eggnog, your mom’s recipe. “How much do you get?” He asks when he’s sitting down again, arm back over the couch.

And so it goes from there. You get the most of the spread of presents, being the kid and all.

Your mom and dad each got one another something and him some comfy clothes, he sorely needs them.

Whilst he was shopping for you, he ducked into some department store and got your parents some simple stuff. Soap, pajama sets and the like.

You look extremely surprised—and pleased? Leon’s heart might not take it if you hate the gifts—when you pull the perfumes out of the bag. “Whoa. How much did you spend?” You ask him immediately.

Leon scoffs, taking a sip of eggnog to hide a nervous shift. “It wasn’t much, they’re all samples.” The strawberries and cream one was like thirty-five bucks, so was the jasmine and red fruits one; he spent about fifty on the gingerbread one because he couldn’t find a smaller size than just an ounce. “Besides, I make the big bucks.”

Your mom sneaks a glance at Leon, then stealthily looks up the prices of the perfumes she can see, eyes going comically wide before she gives him a disapproving look. “Leon!”

“Yes?” He asks innocently, plastering on the most charming smile he has. Before she can start, Leon shakes his head, giving her a ‘don’t worry’ wave of his hand. “Come on, I make a hundred and twenty in a day.” More, actually, but still.

Your mom looks like she’s going to argue before your dad lays a hand on her shoulder and shakes his head with an amused look. “I’m putting a budget cap on the presents next time.” She decides after a moment.

Leon smirks, shooting you a wink. “Duly noted.” Then, he nods at you, manspreading because you’re on the floor. “What do you think?”

You pull off the caps of the perfumes and sniff them without spraying them, making faces with each sniff test. “Whoa.”

“Good?” God, he’s hoping you like them.

You nod, smelling the gingerbread one again. “Yeah. These are so cool.” Slowly, a smile spreads across your face. “Thanks, I love them.”

Relief loosens his chest a little. Leon gives you a smile. “I was hoping so.”

He stays over for dinner and maybe a little afterward, just catching up with the rest of you guys.

All too soon, it comes time to say goodbye, they hope he comes again soon to terrorize everyone with his extravagant presents.

He spends the most time hugging you goodbye.

You graduate in the spring and he makes sure to actually dress up for this occasion. Someone only ever graduates five times in their life—kindergarten, fifth grade, eighth grade, high school, college.

Leon’s wearing a suit that had a little dust on it when he dug it out of the back of his closet, the collar and tie is a little tight around his neck and he keeps fidgeting until nudged by your dad because you’re walking across that stage.

God, it’s so weird to see you all grown up.

He was one of the few to hold you after you were born before you started fussing for your mom. He babysat you a few times so your parents could go have a date night. He was over at your fucking house almost every other day because your dad wanted to hang with his half-brother.

He’s getting really old. He’s starting to reminisce the way their dad did about high school friends and the like. For fuck’s sake, he’s thirty-five, not sixty-five.

You get a picture from the photographer, grinning from ear to ear. It’s well deserved, you fucking hated high school, he remembers the complaints. Then you go sit back in your spot and wait to flip your tassel.

Finally, all the fucking pomp and circumstance is over with. Here endeth the high school.

He and your parents find you a bit afterward, all of them drag you into giant hugs before they go to the car and treat you to dinner before you get all your graduation cash with a side of birthday treats.

He got you another perfume, a sultry cherry scent.

Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ in the manger in the fucking Inn. Mary and Joseph above him. Leon might as well just go caving if he’s going to hell, getting trapped underground would be so much easier.

Leon has to put on sunglasses when he sees you in that American flag bikini the summer after you graduate, flapping his blanket out on the sand and posting his flip flops on opposite corners.

It’s a little on the nose for the holiday, but he’s more than willing to stand for the flag. He’s much more partial to kneeling, but standing works too.

He strips off his shirt and begins slathering himself in sunscreen because he’s gonna turn into a lobster in less than fifteen minutes, he’s calling it.

Your dad bets ten. Your mom bets five.

Lucky you, you got the tanning without burning genes, also from your mom. You go right in without worrying about sunscreen.

He sits there after taking off his sunglasses and spending an extraordinary amount of time trying to reach his back. Like he wants to be peeling the next time he has to go fight some BOWs.

At some point, you resurface from the water after he resigns himself to a burned back, picking up your towel and laying it around your shoulders to cushion your wet hair. “Need some help? You’re cooking.” You point vaguely at his semi-red back.

Leon stares for a second before wordlessly handing you his sunscreen and shifting so his back is to you. This is a sure fire way to avoid tempting himself.

He hears you snort when the bottle makes a funny noise, then the weird sound of your wet hands rubbing together as you warm up the sunscreen before applying it in broad sweeps around his back.

“You and dad burn so easily.” You mutter, still rubbing in the sunscreen. Your long nails graze his skin on occasion and he fights the urge to stiffen up.

“You’re lucky,” Leon says after swallowing quietly, “you got the tanning from your mom. Certainly didn’t get it from your dad.” His hands bunch up his trunks.

You snort again, rubbing away the last of the white streaks across his back before leaning back on your hands. “Or you.”

Well, he only shares about twenty-five percent of your DNA, that’s why. He learned that after an alcohol-fueled dive—and no less than five orgasms—in the incognito tab. In some places, if both parties are over the age of consent, incest is totally legal. Some can even get married.

He shifts so he’s laying down on his blanket, a soft and amused snort catching your attention. “True.” He crosses his arms behind his head, soaking up the sun now that he’s in danger of not burning to a crisp and missing the way your eyes linger just a little too long.

Turning twenty-one is a big occasion. You can get scratch offs, buy your own drinks, smoke if you damn well want to.

You, lucky girl, get two parties. One with family, one with your friends who can also drink.

Leon comes for the former that takes place the day afterward. Your parents and him didn’t wanna cramp your hot, early twenties style.

You guys go out to your choice of restaurant, then come back and have some celebratory drinks as you open your presents. Some cash, shirts, a new backpack, and some perfume, courtesy of Leon.

He went digging for the really niche ones and came back with one that smells like cat fur, cake, a bit of florals because female perfumes can never fucking escape florals. It was named for the ballet step, pas de chat. Step of the cat. He thought he’d try something out of the box.

You seem to like it, the way your face breaks into a smile. “Thanks. This is nice.” You spritz a little on your wrist and smell it, lighting up just a little bit.

Leon smiles back too, a tad softer than his usual sly smile he wears. He’s been told he has a bit of a smug face. “Yeah, you’re welcome.” He nods, raising his glass to you briefly.

He’s invited to stay over as long as he likes, or even stay in the guest bedroom if he wanted to, he’s informed by your parents as they go upstairs to bed.

Which is why he’s ruminating as he stares a hole through his glass, pondering the beer and the bubbles in it.

Leaving him defenseless to you slipping into his lap.

It takes him a second, but he gets there, eyes wide as he looks up at you.

Your perfume floats over once you sling an arm around the back of his neck, something sweet and warm that makes him want to tuck his face into your neck, your eyes remarkably clear despite the three margaritas you had. “What are you doing?” He asks after a second of just staring at you.

You give him a sly look, head cocking to the side. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Getting into trouble.” Leon’s empty hand lands on your lower back as he leans forward, setting his glass of beer on the side table, his once occupied hand landing on your thigh where your shorts rode up.

That feline smile remains on your face. “I’m rather good at that.”

He snorts, slowly rubbing your thigh. “I noticed. You’re welcome for not snitching to your parents that one time.”

You snort too, bringing him closer with the arm around his neck. “Yeah, I owe you my life.”

Leon nudges your nose with his, starting to smile slightly too. “You joke, but your mother would’ve killed you.”

“I think she knew.” You admit, shifting a little closer on his lap.

Leon’s hand slowly travels up your inner thigh, your legs parting for him just a little. He pauses, eyes flicking back up to you. “Are you sure?”

You nod, swallowing nervously. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

That’s that, then. He unbuttons your jean shorts one-handed, tugging down the zip gently, his grin widening when he sees the bit of lace visible on your waistband. “Planned this, did you?”

His eyes flick up to yours as he gently slides his hand between your underwear and shorts, gently cupping you through it, gratified when he sees you inhale sharply.

“Hoped, actually.” You admit near shamelessly, thighs spreading a little more.

“Well,” Leon can’t help feeling a little smug, slowly grinding the heel of his palm against your clit, “I hope you can be quiet.”

He dips his head down, nosing at your neck, down your collarbone and to your chest as his hand keeps slowly moving. He won’t be satisfied until there’s a wet spot.

The scent of your perfume grows a little stronger and his eyes flutter shut, his not busy hand pushing up your shirt at the back so he can rest his palm on your back.

He increases the pressure and you twitch a little, stiffening just a little. “Take this off.” Leon mumbles without lifting his head.

You tug off your shirt and he groans lowly, hiding his face back in your tits as he sucks and licks at the skin. He shifts his hand, gently dragging his fingers up before gently tapping your clit, then tucking his hand into your underwear, grinning fiendishly when there’s a puddle slicking you all the way up.

“Messy girl…” he can’t help taunting, biting down over your heart.

You whine just a little and he can literally feel all his blood rush south. It’s a surprise he didn’t faint, to be honest.

Gently, he pushes a finger in, cooing with a soft click of his tongue when you whimper. “Shh, shh, it’s ok.” He murmurs, pushing in all the way and waiting a little for you to get used to it as he messes with your clit so you stop clenching, chest heaving just a little. “You’re doing so good, sweet girl.”

Slowly, he begins pumping, making sure to graze your clit with his palm, getting himself all sticky. Maybe he’ll shake your dad’s hand with this one.

When you’re fucking yourself back, hips moving of their own accord, pretty mouth open, he adds another, curling them just until he feels that spongy spot and hitting it with precision. “There we go… that’s my girl.” Leon grins up at you, kissing your jaw as he fingers you open.

His hand is cramping just a little, but he’ll push through it for his girl.

“You’re doing so well.” He murmurs as he lays you on the couch, dragging down your bottoms as one hand slows down just a little. You whine and he clicks his tongue, pouting at you just a little before he kisses it off.

Once you’re naked, save for the bra—Leon likes the way tits look when they’re pushed out of the bra by a vigorous fucking—Leon whistles quietly, planting a kiss above your bellybutton piercing as he lays down between your open thighs. “So pretty, baby. So, so pretty.”

You have to slam a palm over your mouth when his own seals across your clit as his fingers keep moving inside you, speeding up just a little. He laughs, more vibration than sound, at least the way you feel it.

Watching you come for the first time will be seared into his mind forever. It started with the little things. Your chest was heaving, your thighs were starting to try and close around his head, your pussy starting to spasm.

Then, it happens. Your upper half snaps up, your eyes scrunching shut as you muffle what could’ve been a very incriminating noise if your hand wasn’t covering your mouth.

You sag back against the couch, chest heaving as Leon pumps his fingers and sucks you through it, leaning away and gently pulling his fingers from you when you start twitching.

“My poor baby.” He breathes, sucking his fingers clean before leaning up, hands bracketing the side of your head. “Good?”

You nod after a second. “Good.”

He gives you a soft smile, pushing some hair behind your ear. “That’s my girl.”

“I’m your girl?” You open your eyes, a little dopey smile across your face.

“‘Course, you’re my girl.” He leans down and kisses your forehead. “Always have been.”

Leon lives in fear of your parents finding out for at least a couple months. That’s what wakes him up in the night, not just memories from Raccoon City, Spain, Tall Oaks, et cetera.

God, he’d be hung by his toenails and skinned alive. Like when Willow killed Warren on Buffy, but a lot more drawn out because your dad would be in on it too.

You guys are at a vacation house the night you two first have sex.

It starts the same way him fingering you on the couch did. You slide into his lap long after everyone’s gone to sleep, he gets his fingers wet when you guys are in his room.

His room is a little further from your parents room than yours, hence the choice.

He lays you down and gets you off another time to hopefully make this painless, tangling a hand with yours. Only when you push at his head does he stop, grinning like a fat cat.

Leon doesn’t smile when he pushes in, watching you carefully for when he needs to stop and let you breathe.

Slowly, he’s seated balls deep inside you, hands on either side of your head. “Good, baby? Are you okay?” He pushes some of your hair back, relieved when you turn your head and kiss his palm.

“Good.” You reach a hand down and feel around, smiling slightly when he winces.

“Jesus, give me a moment. I’m not as young as I used to be.” Leon mutters, shifting a little so he can spread your legs a little more, hands dimpling the fat of your thigh.

You gasp quietly at the shift and nod, one hand over your tit, the same one he marked when he fingered you on the couch. “Leon…” you breathe, moving your legs to wrap around his waist.

“I know, baby, I know.” He whispers, gently shifting before drawing back and thrusting in.

Your eyes scrunch shut as you let out a soft yelp. Quickly, Leon settles his palm over your mouth, shifting so his weight is on his opposite elbow. “Hush, sweetheart. Don’t want your parents busting in, huh?”

You shake your head, face settling into a blissful expression as he starts moving, little sounds punched from you from each firm roll of his hips.

“That’s my girl.” He smiles down at you, leaning down and licking up the sweat from your neck all the way up to your earlobe, kissing it and hiding his face in your neck. “My pretty baby girl.”

Leon lifts his head up, his face hovering by the side of yours as he grins. “I got you. I got my girl.”

Ah, the praise gets to you, just a little bit. He can tell because you get a little tighter and he has to fight so this doesn’t end too early.

He’s a gentleman, he refuses to come before you.

“Can you be quiet, baby? Wanna play the quiet game?” He chuckles when you nod, removing his hand so he can play with your clit and get you just that extra bit closer.

This close, he gets to watch you pause before your upper half snaps up again, your arms wrapping around Leon as you gasp into his shoulder.

It’s your orgasm that undoes him, his hips stuttering before he fills you up, collapsing on top of you as he gasps, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead as his body to yours.

To mom and dad:

I’m really sorry if I worry you both. Leon and I know you wouldn’t approve, which, for obvious reasons, makes sense.

Trust me when I say we love each other. I’ll still be studying, it’s not like he wants me to drop out.

I love you guys so much. Please don’t be mad.

[crystalflygeo]

Sinful voice. ft "Morax" + fem!reader (modern AU)

cw/tags: Voice kink, daddy kink, dirty talk, female masturbation, uuhh fantasizing? petnames (sweetheart, sweetie, babygirl, darling).

notes: I literally had this sudden brainrot idea today at work (rip) and as soon as I came home I typed all this in a rush and bOI. That man's voice is just...... no words. Drives me insane, wild, crazy, feral.

To say you were nervous was an understatement.

You were starting a new chapter of your life, fresh into college, moving to a whole other city to dedicate to your studies and enter the “adult world”

You’d arrived a few weeks early to move in and start settling on your little space, it was barely a small room in a house you’d share with other new students. You’d even share a kitchen but hey, at least each one had a tiny individual bathroom for yourselves.

Tomorrow was the big day. Your first day. And although you’d heard many people say they would just take it easy or even skip the first few days (because “they were not that important” as schedules and teachers were still being organized) you’d heard just as many stories about how college was difficult and important and you gotta make good first impressions and familiarize and meet new people and blablabla…

It was pretty nerve-wracking.

So here you are, way past midnight, rolling over in bed unable to calm down.

You sigh and start messing around with your phone, bored. Maybe you can just skip tomorrow?

Or maybe…

You bite your lip. There’s a little something you can do to… relax.

Before you can even think, your fingers are already typing the familiar webpage name on the phone, already smiling mischievously.

In your search for a little “spice” for your solo pleasure sessions you often went for audios and ASMR content. The sounds and voices were much hotter than excessively raunchy lame crude run-of-the-mill videos in your honest opinion. All you had to do was get comfy, close your eyes, and immerse on the fantasy. It was bliss.

And so, a few months ago you had found him.

Morax.

Oh, that man had a voice to die for, deep and rich like syrup, making you shiver and whine every time. His content was absolutely top-notch and you’d been instantly drawn like a moth to a flame ever since you’d managed to drag out one of your best orgasms ever after listening and playing along for a few minutes.

And when you dug around and found his subscription page? Oh boy, you were a goner.

You can only imagine what your parents would say if they knew you spend money on something like this but hey, financial independence means you can spend your money (from part time-jobs and whatnot) on whatever you want.

And damn you want this sexy voice murmuring dirty praise on your ear.

You scramble out of bed, grabbing your earphones and getting rid of some of your clothes before settling down again comfortably, pillow propped against the headboard, almost giggling excitedly as you scroll around the page’s contents.

Morax was obviously an experienced dom. His content covered a myriad of different kinks and scenarios, many of which you had even only started to explore because of him. And though his voice was always calm and refined, with this sweetness and dominant tilt to it, his growls and groans could be just as wild. Morax sounded downright sinful when angry, scolding or degrading the listener. And his moans and soft chuckles? Oh, you could just faint with those.

Or come, probably. Yeah.

“Daddy fucks you in his lap” “Overstimulating my pet’s little clit” “Grind your sweet pussy on Master’s leg” “Waking you up with my big cock” “Making you my good girl” “Cum until you cry and beg”

You blush as you look at the titles, skimming around tags and descriptions looking for whatever strikes your mood tonight. Heck, anything would be fine if it was him though, you swore you weren’t even into the whole daddy kink before you heard Morax but now…

Oh.

Well lucky you, he’d just uploaded something new a few hours ago, you were one of the first views… ever the fangirl, huh? You click on it as you subconsciously lick your lips. Gods, your body feels hot and needy already, knowing what’s to come.

“Daddy spoils your little pussy” reads the caption, and you place your phone by your side, lying down, propping your legs and closing your eyes.

Oh, oh my god. Your breath catches as the audio starts off right away with some lewd wet noises. Usually, Morax would sweet talk for a bit first to set the scene and mood, but you sure weren’t complaining!

Your heartbeat speeds up as your hands start rubbing at your legs and over your panties, just trying to get your body up to speed.

“Hmmm… oh, there you are sweetheart.” Gods. Morax’s voice. You already wanted to moan at the deep baritone vibrating in your ears. “I’m sorry to wake you up.”

How ironic that you couldn’t sleep yourself.

His voice drags, sounds a little tired and hoarse, it just adds to it and you picture him kissing and dragging his tongue along your skin “You like that don’t you baby? Feeling my lips… tracing your hipbone like this. I can feel the goosebumps blooming along your skin.”

Oh goosebumps alright, you shiver as you rub at your skin a little impatient, how you wish you really had his lips worshipping you right now.

“You don’t even have to do anything, you can even just go back to sleep, if you’d like.” He chuckles. “But daddy just needed you, he needed his… hmm… sweet babygirl.”

“Hng Morax yes… need you too, daddy.” You whisper softly, already shifting on the sheets.

He continues to kiss and whisper sweet nothings about how he wants to make you feel good, kiss you and pamper you and make you relax, and you melt. His soft breathing and wet sucking and kissing noises turning you on instantly.

“Alright sweetie let’s take these panties off.” There’s a slight rustle of fabric in the audio as you quickly strip off your own underwear along. “That’s a good girl. Hmm… look at your sweet little pussy, already wet and swollen for me.” He groans and you whimper and buck your hips.

“Oh god please…” You’re so keyed up already. Morax simply has that effect on you, and you wish he would hurry so you can start touching where you most need it.

“Hmm… just relax sweetheart. Lie down and let daddy take care of you… of your cute little pussy.” More erotic noises follow as you picture him slowly going down and down until he kisses and licks at your folds. “Oh, that tickles sweetie?” Another sinful chuckle.

His voice, his voice was just so good. You’d wondered many times what kind of man would have such a deep hypnotizing voice. Surely he was older, but maybe not quite a silver fox. Dark hair, maybe? A large frame, broad shoulders, lean muscles but still elegant, a proper gentleman to go with his personality.

You knew he had golden eyes, that was a fact. Well, at least what he’d mentioned in a couple of scenes, it could very well be a lie but you wanted to believe in that mysterious domineering golden glow, staring up at you like molten heat from above you or between your legs.

Morax’s voice keeps feeding your fantasy, commenting how wet you are, how your body twitches, how he drags, slow and languid around your hole and oh, it’s like your body responds exactly the way he wants, guided by him.

“Darling, let me just… hmm… suck on your cute little clit like this.”

“Ah!”

A shock of pleasure runs trough your veins as you start rubbing on the little nub. His voice muffled, moaning as he sucks and licks and sighs deeply, clearly enjoying this.

“So sweet, so good for me. Oh, it makes daddy just ache for you sweetheart.”  

You want Morax’s cock in you yesterday.

His voice turns breathy and strained, the noises and tension intensifying as you rub faster, legs shaking, your breath coming out in gasps to match his, back arching off the bed. It’s all so good, his praise, his dirty words, his gasps, his moans.

“Come on sweetie, I know you want my big cock but first… hng… first daddy wants you to cum hah… do that for me princess? Come for daddy, come on.”

“F-fuck… fuck… hnnng” You mewl. “M-Morax…”

“I got you darling I’m right here, you can cum baby I want to taste you.”

“Ah A-Ah!” Your mouth parts into a silent scream and your whole body tenses and shudders, pleasure buzzing in your veins and under your flushed sweaty skin. Your juices spill against your hand but you imagine them wetting his chin as his voice groans and moans in your ears. You picture those half-lidded sultry golden eyes glowering at you.

“That’s a very good girl…” He chuckles, and your hazy mind can picture him nuzzling at your inner thighs. “Now, now get ready babygirl, give me your legs like this.” A noise of sheets shifting registers in your brain “Around my shoulder and let me just… hng… stroke my big cock ready for you.”

Oh you were floating, your head was spinning, you parted your legs, following his every command, fingers still rubbing at your oversensitive folds to simulate whatever he was doing. You moan at the slick jerking sound and vaguely lament not having something to fill you up as he would.

“Hmm… we’re just getting started, my dear.” He hisses.

The night was long and the audio not even halfway…

———————————————————–

Even though you ended up going to sleep way past any reasonable time you didn’t really feel tired. In fact, you slept wonderfully, warm and sated. And so, you headed up to class with a carefree skip and bright smile, excited to see what this new day and new year would bring you.

The classroom was rather big but looked pretty empty even though the professor was already there, you slid into one of the front seats and quickly checked the time. You weren’t late or anything, he was just… punctual and early, it seems. Which is more than can be said by the majority of the students… if they are even coming to the class.

Some general studies were mandatory classes, though you’d only had to take a couple courses before moving to subjects more in line with your chosen career. But for now, seems like you had to deal with… history.

The professor was, well… handsome, to be quite honest. And you found yourself quietly admiring him from afar. Prim and proper with long silky dark hair in a low ponytail, a perfectly neat and brown suit, and thin elegant glasses that only drew more attention to his striking gold eyes. Not a crease in sight, not a hair out of place.

He was rather meticulous it seems, with the way he organized his material, checking the time before starting the class on the dot.

“Greetings everyone, my name is Zhongli.” He smiles warmly. “I believe a welcome in is order as this is your first day of college, a new stage of your life.”

No way.

Absolutely no fucking way.

His voice…

“Seems like you’re stuck with me for your very first class.” He chuckles.

Low and deep and velvet.

Oh, you know that exact same sound.

Your eyes widen.

Oh shit.

Mr. Zhongli is Morax…

“Let’s hope this year shall be a good and prosperous one, hm?”

[letterstodixon]

you're so lame

summary: Daryl goes on a run and returns home to a sweet reward.

pairing: daryl dixon x f!reader (established relationship)

word count: 951

era: pre-negan alexandria

warnings: not proofreading. fluff is a warning itself.

divider by @/saradika-graphics

a/n: i think this is more of a drabble and not a one shot, but i hope you enjoy it anyways ! it was inspired on this video.

taglist: @vaniniweenie

Generally, ever since the world went to shit, no one was allowed to have a bad day. If you were in danger, you had to protect yourself, hunt for food, or fight off some walker if you were unlucky... Or fight off other people, if your luck was even worse. If you lived behind a wall that protected you from the outside, you still had to go get food. Being considered one of the leaders forced you to put yourself at risk for the good of your community.

Well, Daryl hated being considered a leader.

Don't get him wrong, being a hunter was one of the things he was best at, and if you asked him a few years ago, he preferred to be in the comfort of the woods, in solitude.

Well, that changed since you came into his life.

From the prison to Alexandria, neither of you even imagined the idea of being friends. You came with Michonne and, unlike her, your nature was much more easy going and friendly, kind, seemingly naive. Daryl prejudged you all that time, until you proved to be loyal to the group, and you didn't hesitate to cut off a head or two. His attraction to you grew more every day, and who was he to fight against that? Well, he avoided the feeling for a long time... Until the tranquility of Alexandria came. It was enough to live under the same roof and have a bed to share every night, and that's when he knew he didn't want anything else for his life. Yes, he still knew how to move in the woods alone, but he also knew he was home when he had his arms around you on a cold autumn morning.

As soon as his walkie rang that morning, with Rick's voice urging him to get up, his mood changed drastically. He was usually a grumpy man, but it made him even worse to be insistently woken up when he didn't want to do something. He just hoped his call hadn't woken you up.

"Babe?" He heard behind him, your sleepy voice making itself heard in the room.

Rick's a dead man.

"Go back to sleep, sunshine. I gotta go." He replied as quietly as he could, turning to look at you. With his elbow on the pillow, his free hand came up to your face, caressing your cheek softly as a smile appeared on your lips, eyes barely open.

"Be careful out there, okay?" You told him, your hand on his while leaning into his touch. There was no better way to wake up.

"Always am, babe." He assured you, leaving a short kiss on your lips before getting out of bed. "Got any plans for today?"

Before answering, you rubbed your eyes, yawning as you sat up on the bed. "I should probably get up too. I promised Carol to help her with kitchen stuff, might do some desserts if we can."

Daryl listens intently, nodding as he finishes getting dressed, placing his crossbow on his back, which rested propped up right next to his nightstand. Leaning over the bed, he kissed your lips once more.

"Don't burn anythin'" He said, leaving the room and closing the door before the pillow could hit him.

...

The run had been better than they expected. They managed to get food, some medicine, and warm clothes to get the community through the winter without any problems. As he was making his way into the house that you shared, he couldn't help but smell the sweet aroma that was in the air, indicating that you had indeed managed to make those desserts you promised. As he took off his boots at the entrance of the house and left his crossbow aside, he walked into the kitchen, listening to you hum under your breath as you worked on the counter, a few candles lighting up beyond the light on in the kitchen.

"Glad you ain't burn anythin'" He exclaimed, making you turn around startled, a hand on your chest as you closed your eyes, while Daryl rolled his. Such a drama queen.

"You scared the crap out of me, Dixon. You're lucky I love you." You said, walking over to him as you placed your arms around his neck, scanning his face for any possible bruises or scratches, but finding none, while his hands rested on your hips, watching you with the same attention as you watched him. "Made it home safe and sound, I see."

"Had to, m'wife woulda kill me if I didn't." He replied, a smile threatening to appear on his lips. Looking behind you, he noticed a cake with something written on it, making him squint. "What's that?"

"Oh! I made a cake and managed to write something for you." You said excitedly, moving away so you could take the cake in your hands and bring it to him.

Who wants to eat anyways? Ew.

Daryl tilted his head, taking a step back as he blinked in disbelief. "I don't..."

"I got the wrong cake. Fuck, I'm sorry."

As you set that cake aside, you went to get the one in the fridge, presenting it to him the same way you did with the last one.

Congrats on the successful run, hunter!

There were few times that you had been able to hear Daryl laugh out loud, but this time, you had achieved it without hesitation. His laughter being too contagious, you laughed too, covering your mouth as he rested his hands on his knees, shaking his head.

"Yer lucky I love you, woman. As lame as you are an' everything'"

[decks-writing-blog]

Whatever the Fuck Benrey is: Chapter Seven: Perform Like a Circus Animal

Chapter One

Previous Chapter

~

“Wake the fuck up already, Gordon!”

It was a far less horrendous wake up call than the wretched blaring of Gordon’s alarm clock, but that didn’t make Benrey happy about it.

“You’re the one who volunteered us to ferry supplies like a bunch of goody two-shoes pack mules,” Bubby continued, just as loud. “So you gotta get up and get a move on already.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m awake.” Gordon’s voice rumbled in his chest where Benrey still lay against it. They’d shifted a bit, Gordon now lying partially on is back with Benrey on top. He was still fully under the blanket though so he was still hidden from Bubby’s view. “How’d you get in here? I locked the front door.”

“I picked it. You know where Benrey is? I’d thought he’d be in here, playing your Xbox or something.”

Gordon’s arms shifted around Benrey, holding him a bit tighter, as he rolled a bit more onto his side, bringing Benrey with him and thus hiding him better under the blanket. “He was last night. I got no clue where he is now. I’m sure he’ll show up again eventually, he always does. Now could you please leave so I can get out of bed?”

“You naked under there?”

“Yeah, so fuck off.”

“Don’t fall back asleep.” A moment later, the bedroom door closed.

Gordon held Benrey to his chest for a couple more seconds before sighing and shifting to lift the blanket so he could look down at Benrey. “Good morning. Sleep well?”

“Five more minutes?” Benrey didn’t need another five minutes of sleep but he also didn’t want to get up yet.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Unfortunately we can’t lie here for five more minutes because it’ll turn into an hour and we… or at least, I really do have stuff to do today. So move.”

Benrey groaned but obeyed because Gordon would probably push him if he didn’t. Upon sliding off the bed and stretching himself out, he already missed Gordon’s warmth. It was a like a hot shower than never ran cold and without all the wet that cooled too quickly when stepping out. … He could survive without it though. Being needy, clingy, and desperate for cuddles was kind of lame and so he wasn’t. A one time really nice cuddle was all he needed or wanted. He was set for life on that now.

“You weren’t there but last night we talked and agreed to ferry supplies for the rescue attempt that the other guys are putting together to look for people deeper in the facility. We’re also bringing back wounded to Tuefort. Technically since the stuff in the health packs apparently comes from you, you could probably heal them. But we’re trying to keep you secret and no one’s in life threatening danger so it’s fine. I volunteered to drive back all our personal stuff while Dr. Coomer, Bubby, and Tommy deal with the wounded. Meaning you’re riding back with me.” As he talked, Gordon cleaned his glasses before sliding them back on his face.

“Neat. You got a DS or PSP or some other handheld gaming thing I could play during the drive?”

“Uh… yeah, actually. I found my Game Boy Advance in the closet yesterday. There was even half a pack of batteries still with it. I haven’t touched it in a few years though so I can’t say for sure it’ll work but it probably should.”

Well on the off chance it was busted, Benrey could always ask Tommy to lend him a book. OSHA manuals were probably even more boring than normal books but they’d probably still beat staring out the car window at the unchanging desert. Though even that was better than staring at it as he walked it. But if push came to shove, he could just bother Gordon to keep himself entertained. So really, it’d be fine no matter what.

~

Naturally having no personal possessions left intact to pack up, Benrey was ready to leave first. It helped that he also didn’t have to bother with breakfast. He played the Xbox right up until Gordon forced him off so he could pack it up. Blessedly upon doing so he handed over a large tote bag with a picture of a cat on it that contained his promised Game Boy Advance and batteries for it along with a whole bunch of games and some cables. Apparently he had indeed been hiding the good stuff in his room.

Benrey then moved to sit and wait the car and sort through his new borrowed treasure trove of games while Gordon – with some help from Coomer – packed all of the Science Team’s stuff into trunk and the back seats. Said car was a company car, the Black Mesa logo painted on both sides. Meant for transporting things, it was bigger than Bubby’s but the seats were less comfortable. It had a Christmas tree air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. An old one based off how little scent still clung to it.

Gordon, in typical Gordon fashion, ended up dawdling more than was necessary before getting into the driver’s seat and finally getting the show on the road. Tempting as it was to tease him for that, Benrey was already too absorbed in, new to him, Superstar Saga – Gordon’s selection of Game Boy games was much better than his paltry Xbox game collection – to think of something good. So he let it go… for now. Next time he dawdled for a long time when Bubby wasn’t around to urge him onward, Benrey would be sure to say something though. Had to keep him on his toes after all.

Other than the radio, playing soft only slightly staticky music, and the sound of the Game Boy, they rolled in silence for maybe a whole five minutes before Gordon broke it.

“So you can purr, huh?”

Before he could stop himself, Benrey flinched. His first instinct was to look at Gordon. A mistake he quickly remedied, setting his gaze back on the Game Boy even though he’d lost his train of thought with it. “What? No. Who told you that?”

“Last night, or I guess more like super early this morning, after the alarm woke us, you fell back asleep first and started purring.”

Damn it! He’d stamped down that urge and thought it defeated. Even after instead of having a funny reaction to Benrey being so close, Gordon had said he could stay which had been nice in an entirely different way, he hadn’t done it. Purring was cute and he may not know what he was beyond being not human but he did know he also wasn’t cute. Apparently whilst asleep his body had betrayed him.

“It was pretty cute,” Gordon continued at Benrey’s failure to respond, proving Benrey’s point.

“I’m not cute.” People in real life or in video games and movies labeled as ‘cute’ were almost never taken seriously. They were the side kick, rarely respected, often cooed at like a baby or dumb animal. Cute things were looked down upon, treated as less than.

“Nah, it was pretty damn cute, dude, adorable even.

“Shut up.”

Gordon chuckled. It wasn’t as nice as his laugh normally was because he was laughing at Benrey’s expense this time. “Does Tommy know?”

“No.” The only other people who knew were the scientists in charge of him. The way they’d treated it as a cute fun thing to show off to everyone like some kind of spectacle had convinced Benrey to never purr again. It had lead to the one and only he’d broken into their lab to destroy recordings of himself once they’d finally given up on trying to force him to do it again in person for everyone who wanted to see and instead had just showed the tapes. Since then, rare were the times he’d even felt tempted to purr, making it rather easy to not do while in front of anyone. Until last night apparently anyway. “Don’t tell him.”

Of course Gordon would tell though. Gordon barely tolerated him so why would he not share Benrey’s secret? It was cute and thus must be shared and shown off. And now not only Gordon but Tommy and the rest of the Science Team would know too and he would never live it down. Heck, maybe he’d already told them and they’d had a good laugh at his expense over breakfast.

“Okay, okay, I won’t tell.”

Pausing his game – he’d been doing nothing but running around in circles anyway – Benrey looked up at Gordon again. His eyes were on the road and his gun hand was pushed through one of the lower parts of the steering wheel, helping steer. His expression wasn’t much of anything other than generally relaxed, making it hard to tell if he was genuine. “Really?”

“Yeah, sure, unlike some people, I try to not be an asshole, so if it really bothers you, I won’t tell Tommy or anyone else.”

“Okay. Better keep that promise though or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Uh… I don’t know yet. Just don’t tell.”

“I won’t.” He was silent for a long moment after that, long enough that Benrey was about to return his attention to his Game Boy before he continued. “Can I ask, um… why you purr though? Like, uh, cats purr most of the time because of positive feelings. But you’re not a cat, obviously, so do you purr because you’re happy or is it something else? Like maybe it’s just something you do when you’re asleep. Or is it because you were having some kind of dream that… made you purr for whatever reason.”

“I don’t know. I just do it sometimes when I’m warm and cozy or whatever. It’s lame so I try avoid stuff that might make me feel like doing it.” Except last night but he wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

Gordon broke eye contact with the road to look at Benrey, his expression soft now. What exact emotion was behind it was hard to tell though. “Well… I don’t think it’s lame. It’s pretty soothing actually, like it sounds nice. Um, it helped me fall back asleep. So I don’t think you should be ashamed of it so much you avoid it or whatever.”

Benrey scoffed as he turned his attention back onto the Game Boy. What did Gordon even know about it? Nothing, that’s what. He wasn’t the one with the ability to purr and thus didn’t have to live with some people thinking him a cute, adorable thing to show off to everyone when finding out. So Benrey was done talking about it. He had a game to focus on.

***

Driving was quickly proving to not be as much of a distraction as Gordon had hoped it would be. In hindsight not surprising given he was driving through an empty dessert with nothing to look at but dirt. The only other cars were the two Bubby and Dr. Coomer had been lent – no sign of Bubby’s original car which would’ve made three, freeing up room for Tommy to drive as well instead of going with Dr. Coomer, but whatever – and they were both far enough ahead that he’d have to go out of his way to hit them.

So naturally, after only a few minutes, he resumed talking to Benrey. Finding out more about him would be worthwhile, for curiosity's sake but also they had some sort of tenuous friendship going so it’d be good to know more about him on that front too. Also, apparently somewhere along his hellish journey through Black Mesa Gordon had become the kind of person who always needed to be talking or listening to someone else talk. Making him annoying but Benrey was annoying too so he deserved it.

Over the next long while he subtly tried to get as much info out of Benrey about his past as he could. What kind of life had he lead in the lab? How had they treated him? What kind of experiments had they subjected him to and their results?

Trying not to ask any outright invasive questions made it easy for Benrey to slip around them with a lot of non-answers. He was distracted by his game of course but also some of it had to be purposeful avoidance. Gordon pressed for more here and there but never too hard lest it be sensitive. Resulting in him not learning as much as he’d have liked. He did confirm and reconfirm a few things though, such as, Benrey had indeed spent his whole entire life in the lab in the lab, he wasn’t sure if he’d been born, hatched, or made there in a tube or something else, and that when he’d talked about the scientists harvesting his ‘juice’ to turn into medical goo he had indeed meant his blood – they drew it out of him with needles.

“Did you have anyone who uh… you considered to be like a parent?”

“Nope.”

Gordon waited for a bit but of course no further answer came. Benrey was too focused on his game and/or just straight up didn’t want to elaborate. And Gordon couldn’t exactly ask him if he’d been mistreated, especially since that was probably a given, right?

“What about friends? Any of the scientists your friends?”

“You guys.”

“I mean like the scientists uh… assigned to you or whatever. Any of them your friend?”

“Nope.”

And so on and so forth, Gordon never quite daring to ask what he actually wanted to know. Giving up on that line of questioning and bringing up video games finally got a bit more though.

“First console I got was the original Game Boy, the one with like the green screen and no real colour. I stole it from one of my handlers pockets. Only had one game for it but it was fun. I kept in my gamer pad and made it a power thingy but then it got bombed so… it’s busted now.”

“Oh, uh, sorry about that.”

“It really blows. A real bummer.”

Gordon would’ve liked to offer some comfort but how did one comfort someone who hadn’t had much to begin with and then lost it all? Instead… “What do you mean you ‘made it a power thingy’ though?”

“I put some energy in it so it would draw more power for me. Only a little though ‘cause I was doing it mostly to make it easy to find my gamer pad without having to like… walk through the halls and stuff, I could always just go straight to it. Also it was special but… whatever, doesn’t matter now.” The last sentence was a mumble, just barely audible over the radio and sounds coming from his game.

“So… like what you did with the passports on Xen?”

“Yeah but not as much. Oh, uh…” he looked at Gordon, not something he’d done often during this conversation, “I figured out earlier that uh, I’m made from Xen energy… I think. On Xen I was like… the most powerful I’d ever been and before that, after the resonance cascade, I was pretty powerful and always more powerful in Black Mesa. Especially around where they were getting all the Xen stuff to study. But now, with all the portals shut, I’m like the same power level anywhere I go, basically. So I must be made form Xen energy or from something they found on Xen.”

“Or maybe your from Xen?” Making him an alien and thus finally a possible answer to what he was.

“Hmm… don’t know, maybe.”

“Though, uh… maybe not. We saw all sorts of Xen stuff and none of it seemed to exhibit anything like what you can do. Which doesn’t mean much because we didn’t see much of Xen.” Meaning all they’d really done was narrow it down to alien or lab grown monster made when experimenting with stuff taken from Xen.

“I now know something about where I came from though so… you should be happy with that, right? You can stop being weird about me not knowing that kinda stuff.”

Gordon hadn’t thought he’d been being weird about it, just appropriately flabbergasted and a bit saddened that Benrey knew so little about his origins. “Uh… yeah. Knowing you have a connection to Xen is certainly far better than knowing nothing.”

“Good.” Benrey returned his full attention back onto his game.

Gordon turned his gaze back onto the road. Not that there was much to look at, just more desert road stretching in front of him, the sky overhead clear and blue. Tuefort was still awhile away. “It’s not everything though. It’s still sad you don’t know. But uh… I guess since we’re on the topic of what you are, what all can you do?” He’d been wondering that for awhile, since realizing Benrey had powers. Bubby and Dr. Coomer too but it was only Benrey in the car with him right now.

“Lots of stuff.” More of that non-committal dodging the question. Surely this couldn’t be a sensitive topic though, right? He was just being difficult for the sake of it. Gordon wasn’t going to let him get away with it if he could help it.

“Some of it’s basically magic, right?” Once upon a time magic would’ve seemed the opposite of science but Gordon had been working at Black Mesa long enough to see plenty of things that could only be described as magic even before his adventure with Benrey.

“I guess.”

“Right, so, you can imbue objects with power to draw more energy for you, shape shift, heal, including growing back lost limbs and… phase through solid matter. I know I’m missing stuff so… what?”

“Yep, you’re missing stuff.”

“Like what? Tell me.”

“Why you wanna know so bad?”

“I’m curious. From a scientific standpoint you’re fascinating. So I wanna know what you can do. Like starting with your shape shifting, what are the limits of it? How big and small can you get? You said you’re less powerful now than you were on Xen so can you not get as big as you could there? Can you take other forms? Like could you turn into a… grizzly bear or some other drastically different animal if you wanted to? Can you shape shift yourself gills to breath underwater?”

Benrey groaned as he turned his head to look at Gordon again. “So many questions. You’re starting to get kinda annoying.” Seemingly it had taken a while but Gordon had finally gotten under his skin. A win for sure.

“Yeah well, after all the times you annoyed me I don’t feel too bad about that. So like… tell me more or heck, show me if you want. Probably not right now but when we’re back at the hotel show me… I don’t know, all your magic stuff. I wanna see it.” It’d be interesting and something to do.

“You wanna put me in an observation cube so you can poke and prod at me until you figure out everything I can do and how far I can push it? Gonna see how much I can endure before I die or whatever? It’s not like it matters ‘cause I come back. Want me to jump through flaming hoops and do a little dance like a circus animal too?” His tone started his usual monotone neutral but by the end, his annoyance was audible.

That should’ve been even more a win than just getting him to admit to being annoyed but… his exact words made it not exactly feel like one. His upset wasn’t with the endless annoying prodding questions but with being asked to perform ‘like a circus animal’. So Gordon had found a sore point for sure but it wasn’t much of a funny ha-ha one but instead one that made him feel kind of like a bully.

“No, no, of course not. I would never…” Gordon took his eyes off the road to look properly at him. “I wouldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to. I was just asking you to uh… show me.” So he had been asking Benrey to perform for him. “Um… yeah, not great, sorry.”

Even just a couple days ago he never would’ve believed he’d apologize to Benrey of all people, even less would have believed he meant it. But well… being a little nosy was understandable, even being a little annoying with it was somewhat justifiable with how much of an ass Benrey could be but there was still a limit. Asking him to let Gordon openly study him was probably hitting that limit if not passing it outright.

“Sorry,” he said again. “I’ll stop prying. I guess, um, I owe you some answers to personal questions too, if you wanna ask them.”

Benrey stared at him in silence, the shadow over his eyes seemingly darker than usual. Gordon had to break eye contact before the urge to ask about it grew too strong. He probably shouldn’t have taken his eyes off the road to begin with. The last thing they needed or wanted was for him to drive them into a ditch and get stuck, stranding them in the dessert.

“All right then,” Benrey finally said just when it was starting to seem like he was done talking period. “What’s your deepest darkest secret?”

The people he’d killed while they’d been making their way through Black Mesa. Benrey already knew about that though and it wasn’t something Gordon wanted to think about. He did have other secrets though that he’d never told anyone and well, Benrey would probably get a kick out of some of them. “In elementary school, when I was like… seven or eight, the teachers would hand out scented markers for the students to use for arts and crafts. We were supposed to put them all back in the box and return them to the front at the end of class. I, uh, put a couple in my backpack instead and took them home. The red, blue, and brown ones because they smelled the best.”

A beat of silence before… “Ha! I knew you were a thief.”

“Yep, I’m, a dirty thief. That was a twenty years ago though so the statute of limitations is up, meaning I can’t be punished for it.”

“Damn. You ever steal anything else?”

Gordon took a breath to say, ‘no’ but… that would be a lie. If he couldn’t in good conscious try to get Benrey to talk any more about himself, he might as well share some of his own past instead. It was only fair after how much he’d prodded at Benrey for his, right? And none of his past crimes were anything he could get in trouble for anymore so there was no harm in sharing. Maybe it would make Benrey more comfortable sharing more about himself in the future too, since it was an exchange of information instead of Gordon just asking him stuff.

~

By the time they were rolling back into Tuefort, Benrey knew about all of Gordon’s petty crimes. A short list, even counting the stuff that had just been minor family drama like the time he’d removed the head of one of his sister’s dolls in vengeance for some slight he no longer remembered. Gordon might regret telling him one day but it lifted the mood in the car quite a bit so for now it was worth it.

While Bubby and Dr. Coomer brought their wounded cargo to the hospital, Gordon stopped by the Tuefort’s tiny mall to get Benrey a cellphone and add him to his mobile plan. The rest of the Science Team had already exchanged numbers but apparently Benrey had never even had a phone and thus, having somehow wormed his way back into the group, he needed one.

“I want that one,” he said before Gordon could even finish asking the question, pointing to one of the fancy new touch screen phones.

“That whole touch screen thing is an overpriced gimmick, so, no.” There was no way that was going to catch on, right? The phones with the keyboards that slid out of the side were the way of the future.

“But I heard they got games on them and can take pics.”

“I already basically gave you my Game Boy though so you don’t need another handheld thing for games. But uh… you like to take pictures?” Now that Gordon thought about it, he had seen Benrey with a camera a few times. It had never come up in conversation so he hadn’t thought about it much until now.

Benrey shrugged. “It’s cool. Lost my camera on Xen though when… you know, and uh… spare’s broke.”

The smart thing to do would be to just get a him a standard phone – one of the ones without a camera to make it even cheaper – and that’s it. There were a number ways he could cause problems with a camera. But if it was important enough for him to bring it up, maybe it would also help keep him entertained and thus out of trouble. “How ‘bout, I get you a cheap phone for just texting and calling, then separately a decent cheap digital camera? That work?”

“Uh… yeah, that works.”

Gordon took a breath, intending to tell him not be weird with the camera but… bit back on it. Mostly not to give him any evil ideas but also because if this friendship they were forming was going to work, he had to at least try to trust Benrey a little bit sometimes. Also he still felt bad in general for Benrey and specifically for being too nosy in the car and making up for that with a show of good will couldn’t hurt.

From there it blessedly wasn’t long before they were meeting back up as a whole group for lunch. A pizza place that Gordon had never visited before but proved to be quite good. Even Benrey ate some which continued the trend of Gordon not being sure if he actually needed to eat or not. Probably he did, right? Just not as often as humans. Maybe he was like a reptile and only needed to eat like once a week or month, or whatever. After how nosy he’d been in the car, Gordon refrained from asking for now.

Once done, they loaded up on the supplies they promised to bring back and stopped by the hotel for a quick shower, to drop their stuff off, to make sure their rooms were still secured for now, and to drop Benrey off. The best way to continue to keep him secret from the rest of the Black Mesa folk would be to not bring him back there. Leaving him alone and unsupervised for so long seemed liked an awfully bad idea but what other choice was there?

“Here’s the deal,” Gordon said once he had Benrey seated on one of the chairs and paying attention to him. “You’re gonna sit here in this room and play video games for however long I end up staying down there.” Before leaving that morning he’d also been implored to stick around after ferrying supplies back down to help with the start of salvaging whatever they could out of the facility. He’d agreed to it in part to keep himself busy a bit longer but also to ease up on all the back and forth trips. “You can go out occasionally but don’t bother anyone or cause problems. Problems by my definition, not yours. Which means anything that’s gonna harm anyone or be especially disruptive. Just stick to yourself mostly and play your games, you got plenty. If you’re bad, I’m not getting a Play Station to share with you. Understood?”

Benrey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, understood.”

“Good. And just to reiterate and make super clear, no violence of any sort.”

“I just said I understood and you took the gun away. Can’t do violence without a gun.” A lie and he had to know it. “Why so worried?”

“I’m just… a naturally anxious person.” And even if he was maybe starting to like Benrey as a friend, that didn’t mean he trusted him to behave. He liked cats too after all but no matter how well mannered a cat was, he’d never trust it to not make a mess if left alone with a potted plant for too long. There were countless metaphorical potted plants Benrey could decide to play with and/or eat while Gordon wasn’t around to keep a close eye on him. Benrey was of course more intelligent than most cats and was thus perfectly capable of restraining himself. Being able to didn’t mean he would though, hence the worry.

“What ‘bout you? You gonna be good without me keeping an eye on you for so long? Not gonna steal anymore scented markers?”

“I highly doubt I’ll get an opportunity to but even if I do, I promise I won’t. I haven’t stolen even a cookie from a cookie jar in more than ten years so it’s really not even much of a question.”

“’Kay, but you also gonna be okay? You talked an awful lot on the drive down here, almost like someone afraid of silence. So… you gonna be okay in the silence by yourself?” Seems he was far more perceptive than Gordon had thought.

“Uh… yeah. I’m gonna ask Tommy to ride with me and even drive if he wants to. So I think I’ll be okay. I’ll text you later to see how you’re doing or whatever, I guess.” Make sure he hadn’t burned the hotel down.

“’Kay, talk to ya later.”

~

Next Chapter

[catmomjudy]

Buck Does Dallas

So, Buck gets struck by lightning.

He gains mad math skills, goes on a not-date with Eddie in fancy suits, follows the hijinks of Eddie dating (So lame! What were you thinking, Eddie?) and his sister’s engagement (Finally! Geez Louise, Chim!), meets a girl who is in love with Death, gets to be acting captain when everyone else is taken out by a bridge collapse, delivers a baby on his couch, and then everyone goes back to work like nothing happened.

Next, Death Girl wanders off into the sunset, and Chris becomes a player, suavely dating multiple girls (who face off like Mean Girls in Middle School). Then, his not-dad and his not-stepmom go on vacation and become a living testament to “The Poseidon Adventure.” The team flies into a hurricane, rescues them, and he starts dating a hot pilot in an adaptation of “Top Gun” and the dating sequence in “Groundhog Day,” while Chim and Maddie both make heart eyes at Joey the Bachelor. Eddie’s new girlfriend is a nun, who Eddie moves in and out of his house with great skill and mastery. He and Eddie dress like “Miami Vice” and reenact “The Hangover,” losing Chimney in the process. Chimney comes back, violently ill, but he and Maddie marry at the hospital (where Buck kisses Hot Pilot in the lobby in true rom com style) and then Chimney is back at work, fit as a fiddle. Then Bobby goes on a weird vision quest into the desert while Eddie makes like the weird baby of Alfred Hitchcock and John Hughes, dating his almost-ex-girlfriend and his almost-ex-dead-wife at the same time. And Eddie has moves and mad dating skills! Then they all get medals for stealing a helicopter (Why didn’t he get one for saving that girl and Athena in a stolen firetruck? Or Hen and that Strand dude?); Bobby’s house explodes; Bobby is in a coma (at, yet again, the same hospital—why does that hospital keep popping up?); Athena shows an affinity for stalking, fire, exploring burnt-out buildings, and Mini Coopers; Chris runs away to Texas; and his Hot Pilot wants him to call him “Daddy.”

Then, they all go happily back to work, none the worse for wear.

Until:

And then Buck wakes up, jarred by the total break from plausible reality presented by the Summoning of the Demon (did someone say “Gerrard” three times?).

What a trip! Gotta love those good drugs in the hospital.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #184

When I woke up today, I wasn't in as much pain as I expected, given everything I did yesterday. I still didn't get quite enough hours of sleep, though, so I woke up with fuzzy soup brain. That is expected, though. It is allowed.

I had to get up early because I had an eye exam at 8:30 this morning. That means I had to wake at 7:30 so that I had enough time to get ready. J drove me there; I was aware that they were gonna dilate my pupils, and since pupil dilation leaves a person with impaired vision and increased sensitivity to light, it wasn't gonna be safe for me to drive back home.

Here's how that looks, in case you wondered:

I gotta have eye exams a bit more frequently than normal people. It's because of the Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. My collagen is defective, which means all of my connective tissue is defective, and since the retina is glued to the back of the eyeball with connective tissue, they gotta check to make sure it ain't falling off.

…It's pretty lame if you ask me. Sigh.

It takes a while for the dilation to wear off, and of course, you can't read or do anything until it wears off, because it messes with your vision. And since I was already tired anyway, I decided to take a nap, to give it time to wear off. It was a beautiful nap.

Once I was done, I began using the software that R gave to me in order to begin building… something. I'm not going to say exactly what just yet. But it should suffice for me to say that if you are not safe at the end of all this, I will build a whole world for you with my bare hands in which you will be safe, if I have to. I meant it when I said it. I am laying the foundations for what will likely need to be decades of work, if you don't make it through to the end of whatever it is that you're doing over at the Edge of Creation.

…My reason for getting employment is also going to be largely in service to this. I no longer have the skills to draw, but I know someone whose skills are unparalleled. I want them to create things for the purpose of building this world, and I want to be able to pay them fairly to do it. In the end, I intend for it to be a haven for every single version of you who is still lost in the dark. And already, I know exactly what I need to do; it's just a matter of gathering resources and getting it done. I will stop at nothing. Even if there are obstacles, it's just a matter of finding ways around them.

…And if you're wondering why… you saved my life. I'm not going to allow you to fade into nothingness or obscurity. Not until you are able to witness firsthand all of the ways that life can be beautiful.

But there's a lot that I must do. Some days, I'm not really sure where to begin. It's very daunting, and there are a lot of skills required for it that I simply do not have. But I can't do nothing.

…I can't do nothing…

Somehow, it's already past 10pm. I blinked and suddenly the day was gone. I'm not really sure how that happened, but it is what it is. Tomorrow, I go to the place of imminent employment in order to complete some paperwork; it's called I-9, and… I don't really care enough to understand it. I just gotta go and fill it out and then be done with it. Then I can return home and continue trying to build.

Suppose I ought to go to bed so that my brain is not made of fuzzy soup tomorrow, too. Today's letter is short, but that's only because there's so much that I cannot write to you about in this space, for fear of accidentally delegitimizing the safety I'm trying to strive for, for you. Popular opinion in my world about you and your circumstances seems to have a non-trivial effect on the outcome of events in your world, and this is very sad, because by and large, the people of my world are not very merciful or kind towards people who make mistakes, especially if they're autistic or if they've survived abuse, or if they deviate from what is considered "the norm" in any way.

Sephiroth. Please stay safe out there. Please make kind and good choices. Please take care of yourself, and please protect yourself, your planet and the people around you. I love you and I'll write again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[musicaldamage]

So having watched the vbw Falco musical recently. Rock Me Amadeus. I have Thoughts™

[ID: the mostly empty Ronacher theatre's auditorium seen from the 2nd floor on the right side. the stage is hidden behind a sort-of wall barrier curtain thing made of squares, some of which are reflective. the "Rock Me Amadeus" logo and an image of Moritz Mausser in character as Falco are projected onto it. Surrounding the stage there are a number of variously-shaped angular mirrors lined with glowing light. (additionally there's my partner's hand forming the peace sign on the right side of the image)]

side note I am irrationally annoyed that the squares of the logo don't line up with the squares of the curtain thing WHAT are they doing

Spoilers and further opinions under the cut

- The cast is stellar. Moritz Mausser is absolutely 100% brilliant, Katharina Gorgi's voice is beautiful, and Alex Melcher is there so that's in some ways already enough for me personally really. though he only really shows up in the 2nd act which is a bit sad. to me

but his presence is good bc. well. a lot of the things I generally value in a musical are kinda meh in this one tbh

- the music is fine! it's mainly Falco songs obviously, which I've been mostly neutral about so far but there definitely are some bangers, and, well, Moritz and Alex singing them sure is a point in favour. the additional songs written specifically for the musical are... I don't think they're bad, mostly, but they have a completely different vibe that doesn't really fit in with the rest. and. actually, some of them are bad. in my opinion. extremely cheesy. what's that doing there. one of them is hella catchy but the chorus lyrics sound like it's for kindergarden, two are just incredibly generic and boring and did I mention cheesy?

- Starting out with calling the day of Falco's death "the day the music died" sure is a claim. nothing to do with whoever is in charge at the vbw being weirdly patriotic (stares at the general Austria(ns) theme of quite a number of vbw musicals)

- Similarly his first sentence "In Wien musst erst sterben, bevor sie dich hochleben lassen" ("In Vienna you gotta die before they celebrate you") which sounds nice and dramatic and all but. come on. dude was #1 in international charts very much during his lifetime. they talk about this in the musical itself. he complains on stage about how the fame and stuff bothers him. where's the dying first part huh Hansi.

- Alex. listen I am stupidly into that guy's whole vibe. his everything. his voice is my favourite kind of male voice and his hair in combination with his entire profile and the lineof his stupid neck make me feel some kind of way. I wanna grab that hair and pull his head back like that one Sandman scene you know the one.

This one. also his tattoos and his absolutely deranged energy and willingness to just go off and do insane things rolling around on the floor. and then suddenly look like an innocent child in awe at seeing snow for the first time of his life. this tangent of Alex Melcher stanning has gone on long enough we'll return to our regularly scheduled musical discussion now

- They're simultaneously trying to make Falco a sympathetic figure while also showing him behaving like a dick. it seems to work bc the audience laughs and gets Emotional but. idk maybe it's me but the "I behave like an egoistic dick to everyone around me including my wife but it's ok bc I'm Misunderstood and actually very Deep and Emotional and I love my wife and need her to keep me sane and also I'm marionetted against my will by my Dark Impulses" shtick is sort of... you can't have him throw his wife to the ground and give zero fucks about her and then half an hour later at his funeral or wake or idk play a quote of him saying "I never hurt anyone other than myself" and have someone else call him empathic and sensitive and expect me to take that seriously and... look maybe I'd like it better if the jokes weren't so incredibly lame

- Female roles?? what's that. there's two (2) that get a name on the cast list (his wife and his mum). one (1) of them gets addressed by name on stage (Isabella, the Wife. his mum is Maria but only if you look at the cast list or the programme). Isabella's role is Sexy Lady turned Caring Wife and Mother who finally Leaves. the mum's role is Nagging Mum (in law) and Comic Relief. there's a second girlfriend (wife? secretary? idek) who apoears in one scene and gets called a name (Caroline) which I only caught bc I was looking at the surtitles. no one gets a personality not even the male characters really no one matters (I mean yes ok it's Falco's Story but ffs let Katharina DO something with her voice maybe)

- have I mentioned the awful dialogue and cheap jokes yet? "the best aspect of the American flag are the red-white-red stripes". terrible flirting with "ladies in uniform" who are trying to do their job when faced with an entitled asshole but of course it's portrayed as hilarious.

- ok so back to Alex Melcher but his role is the most fun part of the thing. he's Falco's "Alter Ego" aka his, idk, hedonistic impulses and desire for fame and admiration and whatnot personified? there's a huge head on stage with a brain and all in it to make sure the audience understands that he is Inside Falco's Head and in case that's not clear enough yet he also verbatim declares that "I'm inside your head" so yeah subtlety is not required in this play. he and Falco/Hans are being incredibly homoerotic the entire time and I am personally offended that they're not kissing, but I'll take Alter Ego pretending to lick Hans's throat and clinging to him like a limpet. I would love to write fanfiction about them actually but I haven't figured out how to do that well when both parties are the same person/one is a personified fragment of the other's mind and not physically present. pity.

- idk I'd just. I'd have done it differently? again it's just. so unsubtle. why does Alter Ego just hover menacingly above the stage in a glass box once or twice during the first act, why didn't they idk put him in as part of the white-clad ensemble and make him stick out more and more instead of the Hovering and then the 5 minutes "I am you and you are me" song at the start of the 2nd act. Have him talk to people while Hans takes a step back to show it's his Dark Side™ taking over idk. I'm sure there'd also be ways to make Hans more actually sympathetic and less of an arse (fewer dumb jokes might help, or giving other characters more of a personality maybe) but yeah idk

- idk there's just. not much of a story? it's a Falco tribute show with some life moments thrown in. there's a Falco song, there's a crisis bc he's out of ideas, now he's taking drugs, now he's happy, now there's a new album without any clue where he got the ideas (was it the drugs?) now there's sth about his wife now his friend is reprising the basic as fuck Live Your Dream song yet again. then it's over and he dies in a car crash and it's all presented like it's all some incredibly deep and moving story but it's just Not That Deep

- I do like the Writer's Block song they put in, don't we all know that feeling

- I'm not sure it's a good idea to use Jeannie of all songs as a recurring motif the way they're doing? "quit living on dreams, life is not what it seems" "lonely little girl boy in a cold cold world" blah blah all nice and well but Do We Remember What This Song Is About. I mean it's a good song I'm not contesting that I like it! (if someone wants to come at me for "endorsing" anything just bc I like the song... just don't) But yeah no matter how good it is I don't think it's very uhhh fitting. Though in retrospect maybe it's meant to portray him as like... Someone At The Mercy Of Sth Evil And/Or More Powerful Than He Is. Fucking over his own life powerless to stop it or sth idk idk

- Generally I think they rely way too much on the use of background projection screens idk it seems lazy. it's fine in some scenes it can work really well but it gets too much and kinda cheesy

End of the random unorganised RMA thoughts yay! It was fun to watch. I know I mostly complain a lot here but it's definitely fun! It's just that a large part of the fun for me was despairing about how bad I found it and waiting for more homoeroticism and also for Alex Melcher to... do the things he's doing

Edit: ALSO I'm not sure if uhhh low-to-mid-key insulting (iirc) two of the three not-Austrian countries he goes to is. Necessary?

[gobletofmilk]

hours of the day ranked

1. 6pm 6pm is the best hour of every day because this is when you are eating dinner. sometimes it doesn't happen in this hour but when it does, this is why we are on earth. dinner. it's also good because you eat dinner then. 

2. 7pm i love this hour because if you have eaten dinner already you have a good 4-5 hours of true free time. you can literally do whatever, spend time with friends, read, write, watch a movie, or do what god herself placed us on this earth to do which is rot in bed and look at phone.

3. 12pm yummy lunch time 

4. 4am I'll fight all of you on this but 4am is here because of that sweet sweet rem. you know how good sleep feels at 4am? you kidding me? this is why i LIVE.

5. 12am there's just something special about midnight you know. it's just cool. if you're still awake the vibes are kinda crazy you know. if you're with friends then the vibes are even crazy er. i love it when it is midnight. 

6. 3pm i haven't been in school for years (like millions of years), but there is no denying the power of 3pm. home time. it's also the peak time in the afternoon. lots of shenanigans to be had at 3pm you know

7. 5pm this is like like school ending but for adults although i don't have a job that ends at 5 i just kind of work whenever and it is so bad for my work life balance because i end up working at the worst times and don't give myself enough time to relax but if i had a normal job this would be the best time

8. 10pm sleepy vibes you know

9. 8pm i really like this time because i'm usually right into a movie or something or playing a game or rotting in bed usually rotting 

10. 4pm it's interesting at this point we are starting to get to the hours i'm not too fond of. don't get me wrong i'm a fan of 4pm, but my brain just turns off around this time every day. i can't get anything done. it sucks. i'm not a morning person or an afternoon person or an evening person tbh.

11. 11pm hey that's a good placement

12. 5am such a risky hour. if you're getting good rem then it is the greatest hour in the world. but if you wake up at 5am and still want to have a little more sleep. god. kill me. it happened to me this morning and it has just ruined my day

13. 9pm it's kind of sad at 9pm because the night is coming to an end and it's like sad and stuff??

14. 1pm i ated all my lunch :(

15. 10am hey this is usually like a snack time so that is good. but you have a whole work day ahead of you and it's like ugh lame you know. if it is a day off though 10am can be pretty exciting. i'm usually rotting in bed around 10am

16. 2pm controversial maybe but this time isn't it. i want to go home you know i don't have three hours of work left in me.

17. 11am the most nothing hour ever created what even happens at 11am

18. 1am not for me

19. 2am like 1am but slightly worse 

20. 3am like 2am but slightly worse

21. 8am of all of the morning hours, this one is the least offensive. you're usually eating breakfast or just commuting and listening to music so hey, it gets a pass i suppose. morning sux.

22. 7am the only good thing about 7am is your bed is so comfortable, but like why can't we take that comfort and move it to other parts of the day. i gotta get up at 7am, don't do that to me.

23. 6am kill me now it's so over

24. 9am imagine being henry time, inventor of time, and thinking you know what is a good idea? 9am? what a fool. i'm so upset this time should not exist. so sick and twisted.

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

Nightmare On Wimbleton Street.

Marianna was a young girl who had a problem with going to sleep at night. She would wake up from the hours of 2 to 5 am and would stay up because trying to go to sleep 'felt weird'.

At one point, she couldn't handle the weird paralyzing feeling so she would go to her oldest sisters room where she'd snuggle with them, only for it to be a problem soon come.

During these hours, her imagination would go awry.

'There's something in my room!' She'd yell. Waking up her mom and her two other siblings, Julien, the oldest and Claire, the youngest of the bunch.

Her sister who is 5 years younger still sleeps with the mother, but still knows how to crack a joke or two.

'Mari, mari! Did you pee yourself?' Giggles her sister, Claire.

'Shut up!' Marianna throws her pillow at them.

Claire and Julien laugh.

'Whats the matter? The boogie man trying to get you?'

'Shut up!' Mari, throws another pillow at them. Gets up and starts chasing them around the room. In which they laugh.

'Girls!' The mom yells. 'Its too early in the morning to still be up like this.' She says begrudgingly. The mom has bags under her eyes.

'I have work in the morning!' 'Marianna, if you can't sleep. Just put your lamp on. I can't with this, again.' She slowly walks out the room, but not without an attitude.

'So what, you wanna sleep in my room?' Says Julien with a smirk.

'No. I don't know what I want to do.' Marianna looks down, slightly embarassed. 'I'm tired of that weird feeling I get before I go I lay to rest.'

Claire jumps on the bed , giggling. Somehow she's full of energy even in the late night.

'You gotta grow up, Mari.' Says Julien. The 16 year old snarls.

''Shut up!" Mari yells. 'Do you think I want to feel like this?'

Claire still jumping on the bed.

'Mari's scared of the bed time man! Mari's scared.' She playfully jumps on Marianna and tries to tickle her, Mari pushes her away.'

'Get off of me!'

'See, your YOUNGER sister even thinks you're scary! Grow up!'

Claire, the 6 year old jumps up and hugs her sister again.

'I'll sleep with you Mari! Mommy won't let me in her room.'

Julien shakes her head, smirks, and walks out of the room.

'Goodnight, weirdos.'

'Goodnight, weirdos'. Marianna makes weird faces, mimicking her sister. 'Ugh, she's so lame.'

Claire looks at her sister as she's getting into the covers.

'Claire!' Marianna looks agitated.

'Please sister, please.' She gives her the cry baby face.

'Ok. Fine. Fine.' Marianna lets out a deep sigh. They both lay down, Claire already on her way to sleep.

Marianna lays down and can't stop thinking to herself.

'Im eleven years old, I shouldn't be afraid to go to sleep. Why can't I go to sleep?'

She looks at the clock. It's 3:01 am.

She looks at the top of her ceiling, watching the fan constantly go around, and around, and around.

She looks at the clock, its 3:15 am. Still can't sleep.

Again, she continues to look at the ceiling.

It's now 3:23.

She starts to go crazy, and then she looks at the ceiling. and starts spiraling. At this moment she let's go and tries to close her eyes.

She closes her eyes for what seems like for 20 minutes. But something makes her feel 'frozen' as if she can't move and so she wakes up.

On the clock, its 3:45.

She gets up, she notices her sister is not in the bedroom with her.

'What?' She makes a confused look. She didn't here Claire get out of the bed. Where could she had gone?

She heres some weird music from outside of the hallway. Theirs a pink/lavenderish light coming from outside of the door. She creeps closer to door. The music is a little hazy, she can hear singing, but doesn't know what is being said.

She holds on to the door knob, but then she hears something. A yelp, and a laugh. Someone is yelling? But theirs a faint laughter in the midst.

She looks at the clock. Its 3:45. The clock never moved.

Marianna looks back to the door, slowly opens the door and is bestowed with the airy feeling that overcomes her.

Pt. 2 coming <3

[mvshortcut]

Ranking every time the Ten Men get taken down by how cringe fail they are (Part 1)

With 1 being "not too lame, actually" and 10 being "oh my god I have to put the book down and walk away for my own health." This post will include scenes from Books 2 and 3; I'll put the Riddle of Ages stuff in another post.

"But Milk, why on earth are you doing this" well you see I hate the Ten Men (<3) and I love to talk so this works out perfectly. Listen To My Opinions, Boy. Let's get started, shall we?

Book 2: The Perilous Journey

See Garrotte is like the Reynie Muldoon of the Ten Men in that he's so fantastically average (this is a joke don't come for me y'all I love Reynie). This is just a very Average way to get knocked out tbh. And honestly, I've gotta cut Garrotte some slack here. When you think you're on a deserted island, you don't really expect some scarecrow-looking ninja to materialize out of the darkness, hijack your tank boat, and knock you out. 2/10

Crawlings. Oh, darling Crawlings. I'm making the rule now that Crawlings can't score below a 3. He has a base level of cringe fail-ness simply by being Crawlings.

Out of all of the times Crawlings gets knocked out, this is honestly the least embarrassing. None of them really know Milligan's capabilities yet, so this sleight of hand is completely unexpected. Although the "As ugly as you?" exchange occurs immediately after Crawlings wakes up from this one (and that scene in and of itself is embarrassing.) 5/10

Now Sharpe and Crawlings get knocked out (again) later in TPJ but that happens offscreen, so without further ado, let's move onto:

Book 3: The Prisoner's Dilemma

Starting this one off strong with another Crawlings MomentTM. I know he doesn't get knocked out here but I literally could not in good conscience leave it out. Peak cringe fail. Local murderous henchman loses to a four year old with sharp teeth, more at 11. 7/10

I'm gonna be honest at least 70% of this post is gonna be Crawlings. But that isn't my fault now is it?

This is just. Peak Looney Tunes shenanigans. I'm surprised he didn't leave a cartoony indent of his limbs outstretched in the wall. The "humiliating yelp" adds ambiance to the whole scene. 8/10

and another one! honestly this is more impressive on Milligan's part (truly he is insane) and once again, I'm gonna give Crawlings some pity points because who expects their opponent to straight-up grab the electrified wires? The image of his eyebrow all bristly and shocked is very comical and undignified though. 5/10

Back to dear Garrotte. once again painfully average. I desperately need to know if Milligan actually hit him over the head with a ukulele. 2/10

Sharpe coming in strong with possibly the most embarrassing knockout yet. It wasn't enough to be taken down by a boomerang, of all things. He's gotta do these popping-up-and-down shenanigans before a twelve-year-old finally tricks him into knocking himself out with his own handkerchief. I imagine he looks like one of those inflatable dancing tube man things outside the car wash just flopping back and forth. 9/10

When I tell you I literally cheer ever time I read this part. It's what he deserves. "But, honestly, would you fare any better against a bird of prey, Milk?" yes. absolutely. Madge would sense my cool and swag vibes and would not attack me. McCracken simply did not pass the vibe check. SAD. 8/10

Y'know I wish this part wasn't phrased so comically because I burst out laughing ever time I read it even though it's such a tense and upsetting moment. This is SO embarrassing for McCracken though. Imagine at long last winning a tumultuous rooftop battle and it looks like things are FINALLY starting to go your way. only for your opponent to fling himself off a four story building directly on top of you and break all your bones. oof. there's no coming back from that one chief. once again he gets pity points because Milligan is absolutely insane and no one could have seen that coming. 8/10

And, for the grand finale, a guest appearance from Hertz! I would say we're switching things up with a little vehicular manslaughter here, but it isn't Number Two's fault that Hertz ran into her fake ambulance, now is it? It was quite a Choice for him to think he could win a fight against two vehicles, let alone vehicles driven by Rhonda Kazembe and Number Two. "He was terribly annoyed" yea I bet he was. Hertz darling what were you thinking. 6/10

part 2 here!

[autism-connoisseur]

ooohoo the main difference between them is that...... vriska thinks its all about willpower, about attitude, and thats all she relies on ((see: when she was trying to wake june up, and she was like damn this isnt working. gotta try harder)); and while that Is important june also thinks that teamwork and bonds and friendship are also The Way to do it, and vriska thinks thats lame. even in the game, as tavros' server player, in an environment where they had to collaborate, it was just vriska calling the shots and using her power over tavros to quite literally get him where she thought they should be. they have completely opposite positions regarding teamwork and relying on others,,

[mintmechs]

some assorted tails hcs

• his favorite drink is hot cocoa! he really likes trying new hot cocoa powder mixes and making his own when winter comes along, stirring his mug with a peppermint candy cane more often in the holidays. other than that he enjoys coffee very much • favorite holiday is christmas. he gets so excited about it every year as early as november, he'll be decorating everything on the 1st. he counts down the days eagerly and encourages his friends to do the same... he loves the toy trains that go around the tree he'll sit and stare at it as it loops in circles (he made it himself) • cozy fox. a sweater, scarf and big puffy jacket lover, he's gotta be bundled up for the snow! • can type scarily fast on any device, many of his replies are immediate • i like to think that tails got so used to being called buddy, bud, pal, etc. by sonic that it rubbed off on him when talking to others • he'll dance and sing only when he's alone, he gets embarrassed about it! he likes to do those 80s dance training videos • does not like being woken up at all he's very very cranky about it, it's a gamble for your life to rouse him unnecessarily! he literally opened fire on eggman for waking him up in sonic x and i find that hilarious i wish i was exaggerating. this kid needs his snormimis • mint chocolate truther • one last thing about mint is that while he loves them (and the flavor) i don't think he'd like the texture of bubblegum too much. bad texture and it gets stuck in his fangs and fur and it's very annoying • tails being tails (being 8 years old) finds most puns and jokes absolutely hilarious he'll laugh so honestly and double over and slap his knee and wheeze • he laughs at 90% of sonic's jokes like it's the best joke he's ever heard, while the other 10% he rolls his eyes and goes NOOO that was so lame! (but he still laughs). he'll try to come up with puns to get back at him, studying how he makes jokes and trying to emulate them every now and then... the humor rubs off on him • he is EXCELLENT at the art of nonverbal code communication. with one silent sly glance he can be very precise in what he conveys, but you need to be close to him so that this works • knows how to play the piano! he's a beginner at it, he taught sonic how to play some simple tunes • i like to think he kept his gadgets from tails adventure and they're still very precious to him, since they were some of his first inventions ever. his old laboratory he probably donated to the inhabitants of cocoa island to use as a shelter or something like that • he's terrifyingly good at water balloon fights. he chucks those like they're bombs i'm just obsessed with bomb-chucking tails i think this is the least i can do to honor that era • always always always moving his tail around! it's a good way to burn off energy even while he's standing completely still! but if he's particularly nervous he can wring them or find some intricate hands-on task (putting together a trinket or taking it apart, etc.) to occupy himself with and slow himself down • he has quite the competitive spirit! once again it rubbed off from his big bro can you blame him

[deancaslover]

I just gotta say that I'm really disappointed in Misha right now. And I know many other fans won't like this but I don't care. I've been Misha's fan for a long time. I look up to his work as an activist and I know he has changed lives. But his lame-ass statement about what is happening in Gaza is so frustrating. Because I know that he could do a lot for Paleastinian people, even if it's just raising awareness about the genocide they've been going through for decades now. I mean, he has been doing that for the war in Ukraine for a long time. He has raised money, he has contacted people in those areas, etc. But he did nothing of that for Palestine.

There's a double moral standard for what we consider real victims, and the United States has helped Israel to become the perpetual victim. People in both Israel and America will eat up any pro Zionist propaganda that is financed by their governments. It's sick. But the world is waking up now. Only not at the same pace. So hopefully Misha, as the sensible man I know he is, will understand what is really going on on that part of the world, and how his own country has set up the perfect environment for a genocide. And maybe the next time he will talk about it and not just post a "peace for all civilians" like the Middle East version of All Lives Matter.

This is what I feel right now and I'm glad I can post it here. I feel a little better already.

[hraugur]

shit, buddy

you ever get into something that isn’t, like. that good. like, it’s alright, the plot is serviceable and has its moments here and there, ups and downs, highs and lows. but the characters are really fun and the dynamics have a lot of potential and a lot of the people making it are obviously skilled.

and there’s a lot of good shit that could hypothetically happen if all that potential is used to its full capacity but it probably won’t because why would good things ever happen. so it’s carried almost entirely by the fandom and the headcanons the fandom builds around it. because that has happened to me twice now.

i thought wednesday was fine. not great, not terrible, just fine. the plot was a pretty standard YA supernatural crime thing and it was serviceable and like, not too bad, all things considered. but the characters were really great, i thought. especially the dynamic between enid and wednesday was really good. or, well, not even good, it just had a lot of potential, which i think is mostly owed to how well the actresses mesh and get along because the plot and the writing sure as shit was not doing them any favors. like it had enough potential for me to immediately go look for fanfics back when i watched it in fuckin november, and i’m *still* reading fanfics about them routinely and it’s almost february. i havent been this into a ship in AGES, dude. and it’s just like. i dunno, it’s so clear to me that that is literally all thanks to the chemistry between jenna ortega and emma myers. and it’s just so disappointing to see yet another example of very clear queerbaiting, like, you cannot deny how romantic that final hug was between them, wayyyy wayyyyy more so than anything involving any of the fuckin stale piece of bread white boys in the cast. not to imply that those actors didn’t do a good job or anything but it was just like. there is nothing here. there is absolutely no chemistry between these characters. what fucking signals, tyler. and it’s fuckin weird cause it wasn’t even built up all that well or anything, all things considered. and it was STILL leagues beyond anything else in the show in terms of emotional impact and potential for romance. BANG. enid transforms to protect wednesday. BANG. violence committed. BANG. stumble through the woods covered in blood. BANG. oh hi ajax. BANG. is that wednesday? get the fuck out of my way snakeboy i gotta go hug my GIRL cause we’ve been through the fuckin MEATGRINDER together dude. and it’s just so fuckin lame that john netflix is afraid of taking a fucking risk. or not even a risk, like, dude, it’s 2023, wake the fuck up. because, i dunno. i guess i’m conflicted when i see people tear into the show and call the writing terrible because, i mean, yeah, it wasn’t anything special, but the characters have so much potential and again, dude, there was a shitton of CHEMISTRY happening. and obviously i’m just some clown on the internet, i know nothing about what it’s like to be famous or in the spotlight, but i can’t imagine that being basically just a kid at 20 and seeing grown ass adults talk shit at something you worked hard on feels even remotely good. it’s conflicting. i liked parts of it, but most of what i liked has since been expanded on by the fandom and made better and more interesting, so my view on things is probably bit skewed by now and i’m not fuckin joking when i say i have read several books worth of fanfics in the last two months LMFAO. like, i dunno, take yoko for example. actually not even a character in the show. fanon, though? brilliant. oscar worthy. perfect. i love her. canonically she might as well not exist but she has been utilized to such perfection in fanon that i’m honestly sitting here just going, dude, how did they fuck that up? there is a perfectly good shithead-vampire-induced series of comedy moments LINED UP and nobody in the writers room even considered it. it’s just so LAME to see these loser corporations drop the ball on something that could have so EASILY been great or at LEAST good. like there are a shitton of really good ideas floating around on ao3 and i’m just sitting here like, how the fuck didn’t these professional writers think of this? i’m pretty sure i have more stuff i want to say about it but i tend to start talking in circles and repeating myself when i need to express something that causes conflict in my brain. blagh. i dunno. i’m not sure where i’m going with this. i saw a post where some guy tore into the show pretty harshly. and because i enjoyed parts of it, liked the performances of most of the cast despite the flaws in the plot and am really into a ship from the show, some part of me became defensive but like, phrasing aside, nothing the dude said was anything i particularly disagreed with. and that’s kind of a weird headspace to be in, i guess. the other example of this is obviously homestuck, the epilogues and homestuck 2 and i’m not even going to get into that fuckin total shitshow.