#i oughta make like a special post for that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

izvmimi · 1 year ago

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Fall Special

cw: crack which suddenly turns into angst. multiple characters involved but this is vil and azul focused, the remainder have unnamed characters associated with them. night raven college is a college au! mentions of cheating and some toxic behavior. mild violence. 3.2k words. a/n: this started off as a joke and went too far lmfaoooo

Fall has truly fallen all throughout NRC and the slow ramp-up of classes before final exams has everyone somewhat on edge. This, of course, makes it the perfect time for the Mostro lounge to announce its highly anticipated cold-weather and warm-drinks autumnal event. Fliers have been posted all throughout the halls of Night Raven from the potionology wings to the halls of technomancy, and nearly everyone is buzzing about it.

You and Vil likely won’t be attending, not because you are uninterested, but because things are still somewhat dicey after all that transpired at the end of your first year, particularly at the spring ball, and also because Azul still has a bone to pick with the two of you. As you and Vil both walk down in step from your last course of the evening, the brightly decorated posted advertisements cannot help but interest you and finally you bite, stopping at the end of a hallway and stepping a little closer to a particularly large poster just outside one of the restrooms.

And that’s when you realize.

“No fucking way.”

Vil quickly finds himself beside you and starts to read the poster as well, and when he gets to the same line, the line advertising the drink specials, you can practically feel his blood boil. Before you can say anything, Vil has snatched the poster down with a loud rip, and he’s proceeding to go down the line, tearing off any and all fliers he can see, muttering to himself.

“If he thinks he can just say anything the fuck he wants to say, he’ll absolutely deal with me,” he says under his breath, tearing sheet after sheet and crumpling it into small crumpled balls of paper he throws behind him. “The sheer audacity to make up a reality! The sheer nerve! Why I oughta make calamari out of him! Sashimi! Inky pasta! Does he truly find this shit funny?”

You on the other hand are frozen in place, the sheer embarrassment like a leaden weight throughout your body. After all, Azul has found a way to label you as a cheater to the entire student body in a much more sinister way than just rumors.

‘Cheater Tea and Homewrecker Biscuits’ is the special combo he’s introducing that night, and what’s more is that he clearly designates that this is a renaming of the popular special that had initially borne your name. The sneaky octopus is using a drink that carries your name and is your special recipe, to insult you, after all this time.

While you continue to reckon with the fact that Azul is telling the entire student body that you’re evil incarnate still, Vil is still ripping through the walls like the Tasmanian devil, and he’s so far down the hall that you can barely see him any more than a flurry of blonde and purple. Clenching your fist as your shock gives way to irritation, you decide you’re definitely going to appear at the Mostro lounge that night, if only to give Azul Ashengrotto a piece of your fucking mind.

—

“Okay, we’re going to be cool when we show up, okay?” you remind Vil as you make your way just feet before the entrance of Mostro lounge, where the eel twins, Floyd and Jade, stand at guard as though they were bouncers. As this is a restaurant on campus grounds technically, they should not technically have the right to refuse anyone admission, but from their crisp, decorated suits and pleasant but malicious expressions, it’s very clear that they don’t intend to follow any rules.

Vil still somehow manages to be angry despite the fact that he’s just had an entire outfit change from outside of his school uniform, his redone eye makeup threatening to crease with every glare.

“Azul doesn’t know what the definition of cool is, so why should I?” he asks.

His irritation is vindicating to you, and he’s right after all, what kind of psychopath behaves like this? You’ve already told him countless times that you did not cheat, everyone you know knows that you did not cheat, but Azul remains slighted and will not let go of your reputation.

Vil marches first, and you follow quickly behind.

It doesn’t take long for Vil to have grabbed Floyd by the collar.

“Where is that snake?”

“Octopus.” Jade corrects, grinning at Vil from the side. Floyd is also smiling despite the tense grip of Vil’s nails on his fine suit.

“Are you going to teach me some fighting moves?” he asks, the slippery nature of his words aggravating Vil further.

“You think this is a joke, don’t you?”

Jade giggles.

“I don’t know what you’re mad about but probably!” Vil lets go roughly and Floyd resettles with a renewed smile on his face, big enough that it narrows his eyes.

“Reservations?” he asks.

“Reservations?” you repeat. “Since when do you-”

“New rules!” Jade chimes in. The eels look at each other and laugh, and Vil grimaces.

“The flier clearly says this is an open event. We’re going to the bar.” Vil pushes past Jade but Jade quickly steps behind him, a movement as fluid as though he were swimming in the deep sea.

“You have to be on the list?” he grins. You look towards Floyd and he nods emphatically.

“You know damn well there’s no list,” Vil insists. You’re pretty sure this is made up as well, but Jade stays put.

“Boss’ order!” His heterochromatic eyes glint in mischief.

While it’s extremely clear that this is made up, you consider saving yourself the embarrassment of insisting. One night of embarrassment might be enough.

Just then, another group of students show up, a few of them coupled, and Jade welcomes them warmly.

“Right this way,” he motions. You gasp as he doesn’t bother to check a list or a reservation, and Floyd leers again at you from the side. Vil is already untying his shoe to throw before you can hear your friend suddenly call your name, which has Vil pause and look towards the source of the sound.

“___! Vil!” she waves. Her arms are linked with Malleus, who seems surprised but otherwise pleased that you’ve both arrived. Floyd welcomes the two of them and steps aside, but your friend stops and glances at the two of you, unmoving. Vil is practically shaking with irritation and you look exasperated if anything.

“Are you not coming inside?” she asks.

“We don’t have a… reservation.”

She blinks, then she turns to Floyd who might as well be the Cheshire cat. Jade swim-walks around the two of you, placing his shoulders on your back which has Malleus raise an eyebrow, and pushes you gently.

“The festivities don’t start without you, our own very Briar Valley royals! Ignore those two, and-”

Malleus gives Jade a look which has him immediately take his hands off of your friend and she then walks over to you to take your hand.

“Let’s go inside,” she says quickly, figuring out exactly what kind of nonsense the twins are up to. You follow, nodding, and Vil considers throwing his shoe at the eels again then decides that the effort to find and repair such an expensive shoe might not be worth it, opting to shake his head and walk into the restaurant instead.

However, when he sees Azul the math might just work out in shoe-throwing favor.

The restaurant is as lively as you expect, bustling with all manners of students from different houses and different levels. You quickly make your way to the bar, where you can see your mermaid friend who seems to have her hands far too full, wisps of red hair sticking to her forehead as she whips from end to end taking orders. At the bar is Rook sitting on a high-top stool and leaning over the counter, his eyes soft and easy as he watches his girlfriend in genuine distress and offers no help. You see her turn into an open oven, and it looks exactly like the wafers that are now labeled homewrecker biscuits and when she looks up and sees you, you can see all the color drain from her face.

“I CAN EXPLAIN!” she yells. The tray clatters on the table and Rook reaches out to grab one with no abandon but before he can take a bite, Vil has seemingly come out of nowhere, and slapped it out of his hand. Rook looks shocked, but turns and sees Vil, says an “Oh la la Roi du Poison”, raising his hands in defeat. Vil glares at him, and Rook then tuts as he hops off the stool to grab the soiled biscuit, but Vil immediately crushes it with his heel, almost taking out Rook’s hand in the process. Rook frowns now, disappointed as Vil grinds the cracker to dust, but as he looks up, Vil grabs him by the collar.

“Did you really order the homewrecker biscuits?! Are you out of your mind?!”

Rook raises his hands again. “But they are delicious?!”

Vil bares his teeth.

“First of all, why are you in here while I was forced to stand outside?”

Rook blinks.

“Ah? Mais you were stuck outside? How come?”

Not bothering to deal with Rook’s usual treachery, you turn to his partner, who looks like she’s about to duck under the table.

“___, how could you make cheater tea and homewrecker biscuits?” you ask, disappointed. “Don’t you know Azul is talking about me?”

The mermaid reddens almost as much as her hair.

“I really need to fund this makeup obsession, I am so sorry.”

Vil overhears this and he might have said something, but even he has to agree that her makeup looks good. Malleus takes a seat throughout all the commotion and tries to catch the bartender’s attention.

“May I have the cheater tea, please?”

His partner looks at him in genuine shock, as do you, Vil, and Rook, who is actively being shaken like a baby in Vil’s two hands.

“Are you for real, Malleus?” she asks.

“What? It’s my favorite drink,” he says, unblinking. His partner looks at him, then at the bartender, then at him again.

“Malleus please order something else.”

“Why?”

She groans and the bartender uses the opportunity to escape, catching the eye of another couple at the other end of the bar. Cater is the one who calls her over, sly looking as he motions for his date to grab a drink. She’s the same girl from the spring ball, and you’re surprised that he’s managed to catch the interest of the same girl for so long and vice versa.

“What would you like?” your mermaid friend almost gasps out. You can see the fingers of her left hand cross, and read the words “please do not say cheater tea” practically written into the distressed crease on her forehead.

“A…”

She holds her breath as the girl decides.

“London Fog.”

“Oh thank God,” the bartender says, letting herself breathe out finally. You, for whatever reason, are also satisfied, and turn away from your other friend trying to explain to Malleus for the fifth time why he cannot order cheater tea in front of you, but you overhear your friend from Savanaclaw whisper to her partner Trey, “Hey, does the cheater tea taste familiar to you?”

Trey takes a sip of the drink as well.

“Wasn’t this previously called ___ after your friend?”

You watch as they both crunch on homewrecker biscuits and you’re about to start screaming, but just as though Lady Luck was suddenly on your side, the true villain of the hour suddenly appears, clapping his hands for attention as he makes his way down the steps of the entrance.

“My, my, isn’t everyone looking great tonight? How’s everybody doing? Are you all enjoying yourselves?”

The music lowers to let him speak and the crowd turns in his direction, a couple whoops in his direction, and all is well, but then your body moves faster than you can think.

Before you know it, all five fingers of yours and the palm have made it across the dapper host’s face. There are a couple gasps from the crowd and soon there is silence. Azul’s hat and glasses all go flying, the lenses shattered, and his face quickly reddens in your handprint. Malleus stifles a laugh which has his partner shush him in polite panic, and the bartender covers her mouth before another timer goes off, reminding her to collect yet another batch of homewrecker biscuits from the oven.

Trey’s partner whispers ‘Damn’ loud enough for the group to hear and looks at Cater’s will-they won’t-they who is wide-eyed and shocked. Vil looks smug and crosses his arms in pride, despite the stiletto hanging from his left hand.

“You have some fucking nerve,” you hiss.

Azul slowly raises his head up, then smiles, not unlike the eel twins.

“Happy to see you join us, my darling.” In his blue eyes are the tides of dislike, bitterness and envy only. “But where’s your reservation?”

The eel twins take this as their cue to arrive, and Floyd goes to pick up the hat and glasses, repairing the glasses quickly with magic while Jade stands beside Azul in case you consider slapping him again or worse. Vil approaches now and is soon beside you as well. You place a hand in front of him to remind him you can handle it, but tears are forming in your eyes. The rest of the restaurant remains in bated breath.

“Do you think they’re gonna fight?” Rook says, far too loudly. No one answers him. The bartender makes it out from behind the bar and kicks his ankle, finally sick of his antics for the night. He whines but knows to be quiet this time.

Malleus’ partner asks him the same question, but quieter. The implication of her words is asking him to make sure it doesn’t get out of control, but frankly he’s quite entertained. He reaches for a biscuit on the table and bites, crunching loudly.

“You banned me from your restaurant AND slandered me? Don’t you know that I’m the one who came up with that recipe in the first place? Where’s my cut?”

Azul’s eyes widen in pretend surprise. “Ah, yes that! Here!” He stuffs his hands in his pockets as though he’s rummaging then pulls out a closed fist.

“Show me your palm,” he says, and reluctantly you do so. He opens his own closed fist and goes “Voila, nothing!”

Vil immediately swings and Azul dodges, but only because Jade pulls him to the side quickly before his fist can connect. Vil goes for another hit but by this time Rook has already come up to prevent an actual fight from breaking out. Malleus crosses his legs but he’s watching intently, now with less amusement and a slight bit more concern. Trey and Cater watch too, with bated breath.

“This is my recipe and it was a drink we made together. Are you fucking serious?”

“This is my restaurant and that was when I was back in love with you. Are you fucking serious?”

You clench your jaw.

“I NEVER cheated on you!!!”

By now, you’re crying, and the entire restaurant can hear. A few people have started picking up their belongings and are making their way out, and even Cater and Trey have escorted their dates out back to Savanaclaw and Heartslabyul respectively. Malleus and his partner have yet to move, but she’s whispering in his ear about this being a little too private of a matter.

The first group of people makes their way out of the restaurant and Floyd finally decides to announce the inevitable -

“Ladies and gentlemen and beastmen and all those in between and neither, we will now announce that the Mostro lounge will be closed for the night. Any reimbursements will go through us, please contact us through our website. Thank you!”

You’re still shaking now, and Azul’s smile turns bitter and poisonous.

“See how you ruin everything,” he whispers, not letting his eyes fall away from you. Vil is practically vibrating with intent to kill but you ask him to leave, and Rook decides to pull him away. Malleus and his date finally decide that it is probably appropriate to leave too, and she gives you a last look of concern as she finally disappears out, her hand tightly held by his.

“Is this a good time for me to resign?” the bartender asks Rook. Rook tries not to laugh now but he will absolutely laugh later. He whispers to Vil, “promise me you won’t do anything crazy,” in an uncharacteristically serious voice, and Vil admits that he cannot make that promise, but Rook sighs and accepts it. He also leads your mermaid friend out who gives you a half frown and motions for you to call her afterwards.

You can barely see for the tears in your eyes. Collecting yourself takes a few moments, but then you wipe the tears from your face with the back of your hand and straighten up your back.

“If me ruining everything makes it easier for you to rationalize our breakup that’s fine. I’m tired of your games and frankly I don’t have anything to lose anymore. So slander my name all you want Azul.”

Azul has a sneer on his face, but he realizes you’re serious because you turn to Vil and take his hand.

“Let’s go.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to…?” Vil starts but when you shake your head, he understands.

“Just drop it. I’d rather spend time with you.”

Azul looks like he’s been hit in the face with this sentence and there’s a tiny bit of satisfaction that comes to you with that. Vil eyes him but doesn’t raise his fist again; Azul’s face is already swelling.

“Probably should apply ice or you’ll get uglier,” Vil says before leaving. You’re too upset to laugh.

—

Back in Pomefiore, Vil sighs loudly, breaking the silence, as you sit quietly on your bed, letting your racing thoughts paralyze you. He brings you tea, not your own blend of spices, but a regular Earl Grey tea and brings it to your lips. You’ve made a fool of yourself, ruined an entire event, and still somehow you feel like Azul won, even though nothing he’s ever said was true. Perhaps you really are the bad person - he certainly made it seem so.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “Everyone knows he’s lying.”

You swallow thickly but the warm tea is soothing down your throat anyway. Vil massages your shoulders, and you look at him, eyes still shining brightly although you’ve long since run out of tears.

“I don’t want to be a bad lover… I don’t want to be bad to you,” you say to him.

He nods then kisses your forehead before holding you close.

“You never could be.”

Just knowing that Vil will always be in your corner warms you from the inside out.

#vil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #daydreams: twst #twst x reader #mimi's notes

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gen4grl · 7 months ago

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Wheeze, here we are at long last before I have to go into College/Life lockdown again. You won't believe how much can happen in a month and the huge projects that lie ahead, but anyways! - It's cool how you have a PHD in Silver Handling. The closest acronym I could get for that was calling it a Psy.D (precarious Silver yeeting doctorate LOL) anyways you're so right, good analytic potential AND its interesting that it's him being Giovanni's son that you point out. I like that bit too, and I'd love to hear what about it makes it so dope to you :D - Twitter is the trenches </3 glad you like it here more :3 tumblr is THE place for neurodivergent folks like us and HARD AGREE on reading game dialogue. its my favorite lore hunting technique. I cannot fight Gyms until every inch of that city has been explored. - Literally bouncing up at down at the mental imagery of Leaf sitting at a blocky computer with Bill. I can just vaguellyyyy reach out to that era through memory, of idk, images, did I ever see them in person? in dreams? all I know is that even in the early 20s the age of dial-up phones wasn't instantly forgotten. maybe at someone's house. but there is SO much 90s to project there and it can be so enjoyable. nostalgia + growing up + that one era that is more romanticized in retro aesthetic and the social culture bc that's how the neighbors eldest daughters grew up and how do we, in modern times, achieve that? - if it's controversial, nobody's yapping about it when it comes to other characters lol. Leaf is pretty consistent if you keep an open mind so taking from other media 100% makes sense. I do it too :P oooh Silver and Leaf meeting on 5 island I love that!! aw man, with the Rocket base and that Scientist I'm just full of giggling here. Pff, Archer is going to get his butt kicked by the boss's son's friend HA tfw the same kids you see running around take down TR - oh I like how you bring the environment and economy into it, solid reasoning for moving + Pallet connects to the ocean that leads to Cinnabar, no? but yeah :D great customer base, little homey place but close to Viridian and the Indigo Plateau as well, plenty of people stopping by! omg Leaf coming from the hair sprouts 😭 oh that's clever I like it! - really enamored with the Bill + Leaf aspects of your story, it's just really speaking to some deep corner of my soul's memory. im so stoked somebody else likes this haha my Leaf is a bit more politically motivated (at least in one universe lol, bc it's the anime which is an utter disaster and she wants to be Champion to clean house and heal the economy) but also someone oughta do something bc Lance is working like 5 different jobs 😭 also, I can imagine with most of your HCs centered around character relationships they might feel like a hard sell compared to cold facts and I 100% feel you. so much of my fic is just character dynamics nobody else would get it LOL. but I'm honored you have so much you'd want to yap about it. fully encourage and love yapisodes - I looked at your Silver post and you said it's only if you're playing as Red but good news, Scientist Gideon STILL asks that if you play as Leaf. He says "Giovanni's kid" not his son :D - at the time you asked that, I was writing 6.1k of a chapter for another fandom, but lately I've had Leaf on the brain again and rlly want to get a solid outline for that series going. <-- the kind of yapping better suited for DMs lol. yess, love seeing how the Pokemon world is connected in media. utterly obsessed with Gen/Evo Specials, you can imagine the cheering when Silver's episode dropped 7 years ago he's so <3 <3 <3 if you like Silver + Leaf sibs then you feel like someone I can smuggle into Dad Lance city that doesn't leave her out, but hey. oldest daughter problems maybe if we incorporate the tendency to focus on Kris/Lyra/Ethan and thanks to Masters, LILLIE?!?!? <-- understand Johto kids but LILLIE???? and every time I see Lance with Red/Blue I'm like "aight, so I gotta fill this vacancy myself"

helllloooo first of all i want to say sorry for taking so long to get to this😭 my last couple months have been a mess and i’ve been dealing with annoying health issues (in every way). i apologise if this reply isn’t as long or thorough as usual🤧

i think what i like about the silver giovanni connection so much is how well it connects johto + kanto story wise. johto to me is still a very undeveloped and lowkey forgotten region unfortunately but silvers character is easily the shining part of the region. i also think it’s cool how he’s also connected to red (or leaf) due to the whole reason giovanni abandoning him being because of red/leaf’s defeat of team rocket, ultimately crushing his ego lol - just one big butterfly effect that i thoroughly enjoy :p and as stated in my post, i like despite how hard he tried not to be, silver was quite similar to his dad until the events of the the johto story. seeing his growth makes me so happy 🤧🤧🤧✨

lmao talking of reading game dialogue … the offical pokemon twitter account made this post for fathers day (i think…? my fathers day isn’t till september 🤷🏻‍♀️)

and the amount of people in the comments literally suprised gave me a stroke like??? lacey being clays daughter is explicitly stated LOL pokemon fans never cease to amaze me 😭😭😭

you’ve really got me thinking about kantrio in the 90s now LOL. i can see them all tryna message eachother on some aol type site and someone’s dial up cutting totally ruining their convos - most likely blue cause daisy wants to talk on the phone to bill or something … hmmm… ideas are brewing!!!! actually to sound old my family had dial up till 2009… insane😭😭 i used to get so mad at my mumma using the phone cause i just wanted to play club penguin LOL - oh and thx u for the compliment on the leaf + bill dynamic <3 bill is one of those random ass side characters that still is so iconic … i have so many hc’s for him too LOL no character can escape my headcanons

oh and i am the minister at the dad lance church!!! i’ve always seen him as not just a mentor to silver but the other johto kids and definitely the kanto trio before they grew up - that saying i still think as adults they turn to him alot since … half of them don’t have dads (both in canon and my hc LOL). i think as adults, the kantrio definitely have a more friend based relationship with him but as kids he definitely helped them through the spotlight that was put on them at such a young age.

ehghhh i very much apologise for this reply, my brain feels very disconnected from my body today and i feel like this hot mess of a reply shows LOL. again, i really apologise for the late reply. i wish you the best of luck with ur studies and writing ✨✨✨🩷🩷🩷

#sending ten more apologises argggg #asks

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twistedtummies2 · 2 years ago

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Character Relationships in TW

I just want to make this random post to say a little something I absolutely LOVE about the writing in “Twisted Wonderland.” Something I love about this game, and the way it works, is the way the different characters in the story all relate to one another. See, every dorm and every character has their own sort of set number of affiliations: the Savanaclaw, Pomefiore, and Octavinelle Trios, the Hand of Five from Heartslabyul, the Diasomnia Quartet, and the Duos from Ignihyde and Scarabia. But we also get to see how these characters interact not only with the different characters in their own dorms, but also the others outside their dorms. What’s so special about that, you may ask? Well, here’s the thing: the game really takes advantage of that fact and its large cast by giving us some pair-ups you would not expect, or even putting spins on pair-ups you WOULD expect that you might not see coming. As a result, you really get to see all these different characters from a variety of perspectives and angles that you don’t always find in stories like this, at least not to this great a degree. I really love that. I love that every character is effectively created equal, and that we have all these different relationships and personalities bouncing off one another. I love how you never really know what to expect when a new Event is released, and how every chapter of the Main Story, as it builds off of the previous one, gives you more perspectives and develops these boys further. Heck, this isn’t even counting the Vignettes, which occasionally have their own unique moments of character interaction you don’t get much of elsewhere and give their own cool spin on things. It’s also something I try to accomplish in my own stories for the game, with my OCs: following the formula of the Main Story, my “Chapter Stories” use the antagonists of the previous tale as supporting protagonists in the next. So those relationships are set already, and build off each other as things go on. But then I can also find ways to make characters interact with each other that sometimes even I didn’t anticipate: I never expected a story with Billy and James working together would be how I’d introduce both James and Smitty. And even though Maelstrom and Billy are not planned to meet in the former’s Chapter Story, nor the one that follows, I can easily imagine how they’d relate to one another. Same thing with Theodore and Billy, just as a random example. (Wow, Billy seems to be the one I’m imagining the most relationships with...maybe I oughta start thinking of the other bois more. ‘XD ) Anyway, yeah. Just a random thing I love that I wanted to jabber about before getting to bed in a bit. LOL

#random post #disney #twisted wonderland

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swamp-gremlin · 9 months ago

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My Old Nick hc's, interpretation, analysis, and other odd bits PT.1

Part 2

This is long overdue but I feel I oughta get something out of the way. I've had a incredibly aggressive special interest in him for like 3-5ish years and at some point in writing hc's I just started making shit up(I mean isn't that just hc's are?) because I really just took a guy with a whopping 14 lines of dialogue and just started sprinting.

I'm choosing to actually leave a few things out as I wish to explore those ideas more in This isn't over Jack, Ill probably swing back around to this after I wrap that up. In the mean time if you wanna swap ideas I'm down(please please please pleaseplea)

Turns out I hit text limit with this oh my lord, ill post pt2 tomorrow, i'm sorry

Can't think of anything particularly triggering in this but i'll warn it gets just kinda bleak

Human turned Fae- I will not elaborate, this will be explained later...

would actually break your legs if you called him a fairy

I've never actually pinned down any specific powers for him for some reason? like i just cant think of like any that i could write/ illustrate that wouldn't feel too gauche... So I just kinda nebulously imaged so weird fae-fuckery type of magic- though I think the most compelling interpretation of his powers was in Scouts Australian Christmas (pls go read it, its a really good fic)

Gay, but I cant imagine he's like particularly out about it; like its a iykyk sorta think because I definitely feel there probably some shame or internalized homophobia there (smth smth homophobic senator caught in a gay bar joke)

Autistic, but most definitely not diagnosed- he would become absolute incensed if you suggested it, like "There is nothing wrong with me, I am normal" but you can tell that he knows there's something "wrong with him" but he has no idea what and is incredibly afraid of even attempting to confront that

Can't imagine there's a moment where he's not masking, he doesn't understand his own limits and will keep doing things until he quite literally can't anymore

Probably has some ~effeminate~ interest he's deeply embarrassed by, but like in all reality its very normal and even if it was thats not a bad thing, he just makes it a big deal for no reason

STRADDLING the line between infodumping and mansplaining

Could be genuinely into a topic but he's just so condescending about it

High functioning alcoholic, kinda in that 50s/ rich way but it's very obvious he has a problem but everyone always brushes it off as "thats just how he is/ things are"

Nick could honestly just be summed up in his impact as a *a systematic bad thing happens again and again* "thats just how things are, get over it" sorta thing or a "Heart warming: student raises funds to prevent orphans from being sent to orphan grinder" and then no-one questions why the orphan grinder exists in the first place

He has been meticulously constructing his public image/ brand as "Old Nick"/ "The Spirit of Australian Christmas"

He is a liar, but he's a very good liar

His accent is fake, his laugh is fake, his public lore is fake and he's not even Australian he's British! (Which is arguably worst thing he has done)

He's basically been voice training to keep up a modern australian accent for years now, but his real accent is more of that 1700s british (which actually sounds different from modern a modern britsh accent) but sometimes he's has moments and his accent slips (mostly when he's yelling)

Has practiced his evil villain laugh so hard, like its a good villain laugh but if you listen hard you can tell its not real

Genuinely so fucking embarrassed by his actual laugh which i can only describe as if a goose that has been smoking a pack a day was being strangled to death

I kinda go back an forth on Nicks upbringing sometimes, because I kinda feel I went the kinda overplayed sorta tragic backstory; but also growing up in 1700s England was probably not fun if you weren't rich and also have you ever met a miserable boomer who does the whole "kids these days are too damn soft back when I was a kid *recounts an incredibly traumatizing event*!" Thing? Yeah he probably does that a lot and it makes everyone kinda uncomfortable

Maybe orphaned? Probably had brothers because he has strong younger brother "your oppressing me by giving me a task" energy (btw this relates to a super stupid hc that im not gonna share because its incredibly dumb)

Expressed a lot of attention seeking behavior from a young age, would purposefully get into trouble so someone would notice him

This behavior followed him into adult life and it would just keep getting worst and worst, like getting into bar fights that he would definitely lose and petty crime

Eventually he just kept ramping up the severity of his crimes till he actually had a warrant/ bounty placed for his arrest

To avoid getting arrested he became a sailor in his late 20s and jumped between ships and trades up until his 50s/60s

Eventually he was arrested and then get shipped off to Australia

After a few months he stuck there he was like "actually, fuck this" and started plotting an escape

He stole a boat and with his previous knowledge from being a sailor he was so full of himself he thought he did single-handedly sail and navigate back Britain or a British sympathetic colony and then lay low for the rest of his life

Of course he didn't happen and due to the fact he is stupid he got stranded in antarctic and the rest is history

If you wanna know how we got from "random crusty criminal" to "Spirit of Australian Christmas" you have to stick around for my shit ass comic and videos fucker

anyway where was i, Nick proceeded to twists that into "Yeah i totally meant to do discover antarctic, even though i was a 1780s peasant who would have not have even known that antarctic was even thing" he kinda sorta dropped the rest of it and made up more shit Homelander style

I don't believe that Nick was like well off in anyway when he was still mortal, and despite being just bludgeoned over the head with the effects of classism and a nightmare capitalist hell society he developed this horrible idolization of the rich and developed this almost "by your bootstraps" mentality but with like the brutality rich bushiness owners would treat there workers, where he though if he became horrible and ruthless he could trample and climb on the backs of his fellow men till he made it to that oh so coveted high society life.

probably doesn't help he would do absolutely anything for money either

and the thing is he made it, he's just unfathomably rich(that is till all those gambling debts catch up to him...) he got what he wanted, he got he's gotten all the money and attention he could have wanted... and yet he's miserable, nothing will ever be enough for him.

Throw back motif that's still my favorite- "decaying luxury". Nick is like obviously rich as fuck and yet just refuses to fix anything, like his sweater has so many little holes in it he just stopped bothering to fix, he's patched his pants so many times, stairs worn down to the point the rug is thread bear and the wood is dented, intricate arsenic and lead laced wallpaper that's now water damaged and peeling, his favorite chair's seams are ripped, and the stuffing and springs are just compressed and flat to the point its not even comfortable to sit in anymore. Like he can fix it, he has the money, and yet he just won't for some reason.

Oh speaking of arsenic and lead- mans is just absolutely FULL of lead, arsenic, asbestos, any other harmful thing the Victorians where just absolutely HUFFING

tangent on a tangent, i really associate him with the Victorian era despite him being born in the 1700s, maybe its the child labor, maybe its the stupid chops, he just looks like he should be in super tall neck-line and doing coke for a headache

Nick is just both incredibly self absorbed but also so fucking insecure, like very big insecure man makes his problems everyone else's problem and take his out on other people to feel better about himself energy

He's just so vain too, like i image he's just obsessed with himself and his image, probably doesn't help he's quite literately has been decomposing for like the last two centuries (IT WILL BE EXPLAINED WHY LATER I PROMMY) so he just has this like incredibly extensive Patrick Bateman ass self-care routine so he doesn't get moldy

#hey have you ever wanted to listen to the ramblings of a fucking mad man? here you go bc god does writing this out make me sound crazy #i did not expect to hit char limit with this dear god...#and for a guy that hasn't been relevant since 2011 #im genuinely so nervous to post this bc this is just so much but this is what its like in my head 24/7 i have to live like this #tf2 #tf2 headcanons #tf2 old nick #from the mouth of madness #old nick tf2

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smol-tired-binch-blog · 1 year ago

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So. Finished Kiwami 2.

I can feel the details fading from my brain already, what the fuck was that. Even without the weird anti-Korean bullshit (seriously EVERYONE is Jingweon except Kazuki and Suyeon bugger this honestly) it was so fucking BORING, I didn't CARE about the fate of the Tojo, let it fall, who cares. The only reason I'm mildly interested in it staying is cause the Omi are worse. I wasn't as invested in the combat but in fairness I got into this series thinking the quick-changing between four unique combat styles was this franchise's gimmick but turns out I'm wrong :) That's fine, it's just one of the main reasons I picked up the game, that's okay.

The game's best bits were Ryuji and Daigo. Also I like seeing Yuya and Kazuki and Sayama, whilst not given the best treatment via the writers imo, is a really cool character.

Oh and Majima Saga was MUCH shorter than I expected which eh, lil disappointing, but I got closure with him and his Sotenbori past so I'll allow it (even though it makes me fucking CRY)

Time for some under the cut ranting:

Why is it that the Jingweon's whole 'death before dishonour, revenge above all else' is simply Bad And Evil And Backwards when I swear like....don't yakuza have similar creeds? Never back down, loyalty to the cause, to the family, debts must be repaid in blood and money alike. Maybe they're go a bit more with it but yakuza aren't above playing the long game for their goals (see Sera and Shimano). Is it bad when they Jingweon do it cause they're Korean? They're the bad guys I guess so.

Also WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WITH TERADA. FUCK OFF. I TOLD YALL I DIDN'T TRUST HIM IN KIWAMI BUT APPARENTLY HIM AND KAZAMA ARE RIGHT PROPER PALS BUT THEN NO HE WANTS REVENGE BUT ACTUALLY NOT REALLY HE REALLY WAS OUR ALLY ALL ALONG?!?!?!?!? FUCK THIS

Speaking of the bastard, Kazama really likes taking two young brothers/comrades and telling them "go make something of yourselves, you have such great potential" but then proceed to give special attention to one of them for SOME fucking reason but then still plays the cool-headed and aloof mentor, like "no I don't play favourites I can't do everything for you" whilst doing Literally Everything For Them and fighting tooth and nail to get them to the top without letting on to anyone that he does actually care. Every day I grow angrier that Nishiki didn't kill him the first time. Fire again, boyo.

Also FUCK RYUJI'S DAD. SERIOUSLY, what is WRONG with dads in RGG games??? "You're saying my own mama threw me away?" "No! I begged her to leave you with me." I BEG YOUR FUCKING PARDON?! WHAT?! I- I JUST- HUH?!?!?!? WHAT?!?!?!!?? FUCK OFF?!?!?!?!?!!?!?

But now Ryuji. Oh my God Ryuji. What a character, what a lad, what a man. I don't give a fuck, okay, he earned the title of Dragon, bollocks to Kiryu. And I mean that.

'Dragon of Dojima', 'Mad Dog of Shimano', legends, yes, but inherently tied to and defined by men who ruined their lives, men who don't deserve their names attached to those boys legacies. Ryuji though? He's defined by none but himself, tied to no one, his strength and power and name belonging to him and him alone. The Golden Dragon. By God he earned that tattoo.

So then WHY did they KILL HIM OFF?!?!?!? THEY HAD TIME TO LEAVE, YES RYUJI HONEY I AGREE EVERY MAN OUGHTA BE A LILTTLE BIT STUPID, IT MAKES EM CHARMING, BUT THIS IS SO FUCKING DUMB!!! You are NOT falling apart, you are LITERALLY BUILT DIFFERENT. You make KIRYU look like a twink and he's survived about 17 bullets in his life at this point, you should be able to heal from TWO of the bastards in NO TIME JUST GET YOURSELVES TO A HOSPITAL AND FIGHT LATER YOU HAVE A SISTER TO GET TO KNOW YOU CAN TALK ABOUT YOUR MOTHER YOU CAN HAVE A FAMILY PLEASE DON'T-

And the less we say about that dumb ending the better. skrunksthatwunk already made a good post on why it's bullshit cause Jesus fuckin Christ on a unicycle WHY do they keep trying to but Heterosexual Romance in my Shirtless Men Beating Each Other Up Whilst Pouring Their Hearts Out To Each Other game.

But hey, Yakuza 3 should be fun!!!! Genuinely really excited to see what goes down!!!

#yakuza kiwami 2 spoilers #smol plays yakuza #long post #Ryujiiiiii I miss you alreadyyyyyy

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specter319 · 1 year ago

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𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡: 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗟 THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM

Authors Note: It's been 15 hours, 15. And for those that know what happens, do not comment on this post, as I will delete and block stated users who place it on here, I am very specifically waiting until the 12th of November for those who have logged off in their entirety to not be spoiled of anything regarding the new launch. And my thoughts generally, writing-wise on it will be launched on or after November 12. Other than that, for those that know and have played it. [-] Both have plot armor for reasons I can not get into, but ones that I'd much rather happily reveal in time. Enjoy the new post!

GIF by Loonlypaper as well as concept for message Pairing: Damon 'Ninja' West x Kaden Lincoln, Simon 'Ghost' Riley x John 'Soap' MacTavish, Zack 'Nemo' Hayes x Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick. Word Count: 2.1k words no use of y/n eventual relationship establishment, however, Damon and Kaden are married. Summary: In a nation unaccustomed to war, Australia's newly elected government faces a dire crisis when rumours of a biological weapon on home soil, send shockwaves through the Government's defence sector. Dispatching a team of elite operatives to deal with it, the containment goes heads up as they look for other options.

The Black Angel Squad is soon assigned as the situation quickly spirals out of control behind the team's back unknowingly, and to stop a bleeding wound, Task Force 141 is brought in to assist them amid a frantic cabinet meeting of last-minute options and consistent fuck ups, forging an uneasy alliance between two teams. As tensions soar on both ends, questions arise about one thing: Was this the making of a weapon to begin with? Warnings: slow-burn, zombies, canon typical violence associated with Call of Duty, gruesome depictions of death, blood, swearing.

Ao3 Version

[Prev] [Next]

He should’ve had more coffee.

“Hey, lazybones.”

A grumbled groan moved out of the males lips once more as he automatically turned around in his sleep, apparent that in the limited time that he hurried back to bed, it seemed just like moments ago. But instead, it was almost four hours later. A catnap, as Cameron had stated earlier.

“Damon, we are not doing this today, I know you got broken sleep, but you’ve had well over six hours. Out of bed, I need my shopping partner…and my partner.”

He was fighting a loosing battle in knowing his body was well aware of wanting to get up either way as he sighed before he rolled back over and finally sat up, his black hair all a mess. His eyes no longer filled with the same heaviness they once had earlier this morning, but more of a distant look in his eyes. Kaden always found his sleepy state adorable knowing he could barely calculate anything but how to breathe and complain in the morning.

“We find out anything more since last night?” ‘Oh yeah, he wasn’t thinking alright.’ Kaden thought, a small tug to the corner of his lips had the male trying not to laugh at his vulnerable state of broken sleep.

“Nothing other than the coroner has drawn blood and checked over the body, but isn’t allowed to examine them. Other than that, the cop is seemingly fine in his state, bite is apparently inflamed but, nothing else.”

Damon brush past the comment of not being able to examine them before he looked over at Kaden’s smile, tired muscles in his eyes made him look all the more out of it rather than the pure action of squinting as he tried to see what the other was hiding.

“What?” He rasped.

“You look cute with your hair like that.”

“I oughta kill you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Damon only gave him a look as the two went their seperate ways, knowing that he was going to take his moment to try and regain the energy he had from the night before he passed out in the bed.

It was through the chugging of three coffees later and a mediocre serving of Special K that the male was finally good enough to go to tolerate the world as he finally hung around Kaden’s office and jingled the keys to let him know he was there.

“Look who’s finally alive.” “Must be dead inside with all those emails you’re answering,” He jeered back.

“Actually just more information on the mission we’ve gotten from earlier this morning. They’ve spoken to the other team, sending over a bunch of former SAS trained soldiers from a task force apparently.”

“SAS soldiers?” Damon asked before he moved into Kaden’s office, quickly turning to look at his computer screen. Rather casually, informing the likes that they have been assigned alongside Task Force 141 to investigate the incident which would be codenamed: Operation Sentinel.

“Who the fuck are Task Force 141?” Damon quizzed as he looked at the screen, even questioning the name of the operation as he looked at the email.

“Don’t know, we’ll find out in a few days when they get here. But right now, we need to do some shopping for the guys, we’ve got a whole list of stuff we need to get,” and then, Kaden went in for a kiss on a stubble filled jaw, Damon slowly looking over at Kaden with a slight smirk. Someone was a little clingy.

“’S matter with you today?”

“Can I not admire my husband for how hot he looks with a black jumper on and how he smells?”

“Alright, we are not doing this here again, I did this once to fulfil your office fantasy, we’re going shopping. Now,” Sometimes, Damon thought, it had honestly felt like they would swap each others thoughts around. And that was one of the scary parts of being married to the love of your life for as long as you had been, when you started to know one another’s thoughts. It became even more so just how easy you could drag them out of that stated mindset of longing they had for each other.

───

Shopping never seemed to be a nightmare on Wednesday’s in the afternoon, barely anyone seemed to be doing their shopping at a time like this, and it left the once crowded weekend days feel like you could finally breathe in a tightly compact place. Save for a certain ankle biter who rammed a trolley into the back of Kaden’s legs.

Damon had an innocent smile on his face as Kaden looked like he was going to reciprocate the movement that caused him to turn around to begin with, had it not been for Damon’s realisation with what aisle they were currently in.

“Are we seriously buying chocolate for that fucker again? That’s the third bar this week,” realising what he’d stated, Damon quickly checked around for any kids before continuing his demeanour, an unspoken rule Damon had thanks to his sailors mouth. “I don’t see the issue.” “That’s usually because you’re away from Zack when he decides to go nuclear and thinks it’s fine to lay his lactose intolerance out on us, get him the cookies instead.” “He doesn’t like the cookies though.” “For the sake of our marriage - please,” Damon dramatically pleaded in addition with puppy eyes, which only Damon knew he could get away with.

“God you are so overdramatic Damon,” A roll of his eyes came to as he put the chocolate back and grabbed the cookies instead “Any complaints, it’ll come back on you.”

“There won’t be, unless he eats the whole packet in one sitting.”

“He probably will,” He brushed off.

“Fuck, you’re right,” Damon realised before he gently grabbed the list out of Kaden’s hands “Alright, next is butter, two bags of rice, spring onions, and a crap tonne of vegetables,” Damon paused in realisation “Are we having rice?”

“Figured given we’re on cooking duty this week we’d do something simple, gotta make enough for four nights so, I decided on rice, given pasta seemingly doesn’t really work as much.”

“Alright, you grab the butter, I’ll go grab the rest of the things needed on the list.”

“Wilco,” Kaden said before he dashed off down the other side of the supermarket.

Eventual time of crossing one another’s paths would lead to the two getting to the checkout as they openly decided to go and serve themselves at the self-serve checkout instead of leaving the hard work to the others. A simple act of kindness in their eyes, and one less person to let what they could do with ease stress out about, and instead, allow them to take a breather for just a moment before another customer came hauling their groceries. Or were ungratefully needed for that one ‘shift’ they never really got paid for.

Knowing that they had finally gotten what they had come for, the pair of them got back in the vehicle as Damon, for once allowed the other male to drive, a sudden surprise to the other, as usually, their would be a complain in trail about it, even if it was the love of his life.

“You’re letting me drive?” Kaden questioned with a confused look on his face.

“Yeah, I figured it was a thanks for last night and this morning.”

“You’re still out of it aren’t you?”

A laugh stifled out of Damon “Yup. It was this morning, too, wasn’t it?” He questioned, that’s what broken sleep did to a man. Threw him right off his perception of time.

Nodding in replied confirmation came from Kaden before he started up the vehicle and made his way out of the parking lot.

───

The rattle of the reusable thick plastic bags had Zack running down the hall as he eagerly awaited the two men to come back into the kitchen with baited breath. As he waited for them to place the bags on the table before he greedily got to what he wanted, he’d been desiring for the past almost twelve hours - chocolate. However, as the zipper came flying around the edges of the bag, opening the flap to it. His face quickly pulled downwards at the sides as he realised it wasn’t a whole chocolate bar, but instead, cookies.

“Alright, which one of you two did this? It’s very funny, cookies instead of a chocolate bar,” Zack stated, confused as he pulled at the box, maybe it was just a little prank and they had a lot of chocolate bars inside, shaking it didn’t seem to resolute much hope within him though. The unbroken seal, an unknown answer to Zack’s logic, would’ve also flown open given how hard he’d shaken it just seconds ago.

“Blame Damon,” Kaden raised his hands as he moved away from the mess, pulling the bag towards him and grabbing what was needed for what would be a giant serving of tonights dinner. Knowing Damon would come to help him once he was done bickering with the other male.

Damon only looked back at him as Kaden avoided his gaze like he was on the other side of a glass pane to his husband, all the while, Zack was burning daggers into Damon’s skull as the other man finally looked back at him.

“You’re sick,” Zack accused.

“Look, I’m not buying forty dollars worth of chocolate bars just so you can treat the cap and I like Meg from Family Guy. The only time I will suffer through it is if I buy you a chocolate cake, even then,” Damon exaggerated.

“I’m not lactose intolerant!”

“Like hell you aren’t,” Damon quickly witted back. “They’re worse than mine. Kaden back me up here.”

Kaden immediately broke out into a song, humming as he placed the rice down onto the table.

“Quite the supportive husband,” Damon gestured, receiving a smirk from the other.

“Obviously your backup thinks otherwise,” Zack stated before someone else walked into the room, Cameron.

“Alright you two, what’s going on here?” The captain decided to bite at the bickering between the two and Damon immediately explained, giving no room for Zack to try and argue his case.

“I gave Zack cookies instead of a whole chocolate bar today,” Damon said as he looked over at him. Cameron looked at him as if he were insane, but a saviour all at the same time, it was the one night they were playing Uno that Cameron flashed back to that moment he will never forget, he swears by the book Zack had done something more than just farting. And Damon had sworn the opposite, that he’d only done exactly that.

“I’m giving you a promotion after this,” sarcasm, of course given Damon’s last stance on being offered it. But Damon tried not to laugh at the subtle gratitude.

“He’ll go through it within a sitting anyway.”

“Oh come on, not you, Captain,” Zack complained

“Damon was right to, I think I lost my smell that night, never been able to smell the petrichor since,” Cameron laughed before he looked over at Kaden, he was on cooking duty tonight, and he was glad he was getting right to it, especially with the news that had developed. “Complaints aside, we’ve got some good news, and bad news.”

“That we won’t smell death anymore?” Damon chuckled as he got a glare from Zack. Though they all knew he wasn’t going to do anything, one of them always became the butt of some joke. It was the way they operated.

“No, we have an operational unit on the way labeled as Task Force 141, they’re sending out four of their men to help investigate this case which we still haven’t gotten any update on since early this morning, been sitting and waiting for one but, you know how emails go. Bad news however, news crews have gotten word about it - and they will not stop until they have answers.”

“You’d think with the budget they have, an email would be simple enough to do,” Zack retorted.

“Yes, well, that’s not the case, so we’re headed out to Melbourne Airport at 0700 hours to pick them up from a domestic flight and then we’ll be headed out to Katherine, should be there by at least by 1300 hours.”

“Can you just use normal time?” Damon groaned before he sighed - though he understood it very well, he often chose to speak to other teammates by using the AM and PM format much rather than military time.

“You know the rules, Damon.”

“Yes Captain.”

“Any questions?”

“Yeah,” Kaden asked as he chewed on a mushroom head. “Why haven’t we gotten any emails or intel back from the Departments yet about the reports?”

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garciaasfluffypen · 2 years ago

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new roommates

prompt: jennifer jareau has a roommate. so why is there someone else in her room who's not kate? wc: 1.1k ship: jennifer jareau x elle greenaway

a/n: i've had this written for my cm oneshot book over on w*ttpad for the longest time and i love it dearly so i figured i'd post it over here!! this three parter is pretty much the kindatv show carmilla, which i highly suggest you watch if you like lesbian vampires ;)

part 2 • part 3

it all started with the mysterious letter that she found on the side of her shared dorm room that belonged to her roommate kate callahan. jj absolutely no idea what had happened the night before, since all they were doing was going to a party. she had asked around, but nobody seemed to remember seeing kate at the party the night previous- which was weird, considering kate was the one who dragged her out in the first place. how could kate have taken her to a party and then just dumped her off there? that wasn’t like kate at all. and the silas university help line was being no help whatsoever either, so she was stuck on her own. she was going to find her herself, whatever it took.

suddenly the door opened, and jj swung around in her chair. a gothic looking girl walked in, sporting a giant bag of stuff on her back.

“hey.”

“um, excuse me but, who the hell are you?”

“elle greenaway. i’m your new roommate, sweetheart.”

“my what?” jj was genuinely confused- she had a roommate. kate was her roommate. “i have a roommate.”

elle purred. “well, don’t you catch on fast?”

“no i meant- i have a pre existing roommate. a prior roommate. her name is kate.”

“oh yeah?” elle raised an eyebrow. “where’s she?”

“she’s… missing right now.”

“i see. so you can’t produce this kate or anything, but you’d like me to leave?” elle started going through kate’s stuff, unbeknownst to jj.

“well, i wouldn’t put it exactly like- what are you doing?”

“well, you see, i may not have a missing roommate, but what i do have is a letter from the dean of students that says i live here now.”

“oh my god. this is not happening. you are not my new roommate! i’m gonna find kate, and you’re going to be out of here so fast there’s going to be… scorch marks on those leather pants of yours!”

jj huffed, turning back to her computer and starting to type furiously. she needed to find kate.

---

time had past since elle’s sudden move in, and jj was going absolutely bananas. there were many things not going her way, and she wasn’t having fun anymore. elle had started wearing kate’s clothes, never cleaned anything, and constantly inviting people over to have “study dates” when all they did was make out on her bed or make fun of stuff that she did. it was driving jj absolutely insane, and she realized that if elle wanted to play that game, she’d have to up her anty and play it as well. which is how she found herself holding elle’s super special soy milk, the one she couldn’t touch because “that’s just the way the world works, cutie.” with a dramatic roll of her eyes, she started to pour the milk out into the bowl. but it wasn’t milk that was inside the carton.

it was blood.

a scream erupted from jj’s mouth as she realized what was happening, doing her best not to drop the carton that was currently sitting on her desk. the one that definitely did not have soy milk in it. not even ten minutes later, alex blake and tara lewis, the two she knew as her floor don and the sidekick to the floor don were sitting in her room, staring at the sight on her desk.

“see? blood. in the milk carton. in my creepy roommate’s milk carton. she’s got to go, right?”

alex tilted her head to the side. “well there’s no denying that it’s a little… odd.”

“odd?” tara questioned, staring at alex. “that’s where you’re going with this? how many people you know take type o with their choka crunch?”

“it’s not that i don’t understand, but you don’t think you oughta talk to her first? a lot of problems can be solved through good communication.”

“so if you two won’t help me, shall i go to the dean?”

tara and alex stared at jj with a scared look on their faces. “that’s really not a good idea.”

“yeah, better just handle this yourself. they could stick you with someone much worse. besides, your old roommate will probably be back soon and then elle will have to move out. it’s what happened with all the other girls who disappeared.”

alex froze as she realized what she just said, knowing that she couldn’t get out of it. she done messed up.

after jj questioned her about it, she was able to talk to the girls who went missing and get their side of the story- it was pretty much the same thing that had happened to kate. she started doing some searching and next thing she knew, a siren was going off around campus, and everyone was being ushered to the center of campus for a “town hall”. apparently, looking up or talking about “inflammatory” topics such as girls going missing on the silas ethernet calls for a spooky siren and town hall. she had finally made it back to her dorm, and there was quiet for just a moment before her door opened.

“hey babygirl.”

“um hi, who are you?”

the one on the left spoke up. “i’m derek, your designated zeta omega mu safety companion. this is matt. we’re kinda like an escort. but only a dude, a dudescort.” he chuckled, looking at jj. “how awesome is that?”

she let out a huff. “it is very, very nice of you large, large gentlemen to offer to keep me safe, but as you can see, i’m in my room. snug as a bug in a rug.” she stared them down. “so you can go.”

before anything else could happen, elle walked into the room. “what the frilly hell is this?”

“whoa, we’re your dudescorts, sexy lady.”

“here to keep you safe from things that go bump in the night.”

elle glared at him. “get the hell out of here before i feed you each other’s spleens.” she turned to jj. “why’d you let these lackwits in?”

“let? what part of this looks like let?”

“isn’t this exactly what you wanted when you plastered your little plea for help on the schools topic board?”

“no! and you haven’t even seen it so what the hell do you know?”

“oh no kate’s missing! oh no elle’s mean!” elle mocked her, staring her down. “am i close?”

“spot on. except the girl playing you is kind of a raging… bad person.”

“agree to disagree, creampuff.” elle flopped down onto her bed. “now get them out of here before i do something we’ll both regret.”

jj huffed. this was not going well.

#jennifer jareau x elle greenaway #jennifer jareau imagine #elle greenaway imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds imagine #melly writes #an i (queue) of 187

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feulin · 2 years ago

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man I don’t make lil text posts much these days but I oughta

I feel like I should tell everyone I’ve been doin real good lately

Nothin super special or anythin, just I can finally clean up on my own and can cook from time to time. I’m happy lately and I hope I can keep it up!

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zwoelffarben · 4 months ago

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This particular tumblrina: Listen, if you want to be a better cook, there are three things I think you ought do.

Use Spices. Seriously. Put spices in your food. You ain't gotta make it Spicy, but spices are where the flavors are. Assuming you ain't allergic, your best friends are salt, pepper, garlic powder, all-spice, and bay leaves (technically a herb but very important), and. If you like a bit of kick, cayanne pepper is your fun uncle and ground ginger is you wealthy aunt. There are more spices but these five to seven will get you to flavor town the fastest.

Find a recipe for the thing you want to do. I know you wanna create your own ideas, but seriously, start out by standing on the shoulders of any available giants. Build off what they've already created. But, I have special instructions for you once you find the recipe. You aren't going start by following it. Not immediately. The first thing you're going to do is, without making any changes to what the recipe is actually telling you to do, redraft the recipe to follow a personal style guide that makes sense to you. Consider two versions of the following versions of the same recipe:

One is a screenshot of a tumblr post, that is lovely and informative, but is ultimately a tumber post, made by someone who has different preferences than me with regard to recipe styling guides. The other is the same set of instructions shaped in the fashion that I prefer because it's easier for me to follow. Anytime I come across a recipe I want to try, the first thing I do is type it out following my personal style guide, so that I can understand and follow it easily. The ingredients list is a complete dramatis personae of: Name — Amount, Options, Prep, notes as need. The dramatis personae also includes the utensils you'll need. If it had in-depth prep, it'd have a 'pre-instruction section' for 'day-before' instructions. The instructions are to the point and grouped by relation: Put [ingredient] in [vessel] and [do thing]. Once, [condition caused by doing thing], add [second ingredient]. This is how I like my recipes: You might like them different. You probably will. But, the key point I'm getting at here is that to get the most out of a recipe, to be able to effectively follow it, it needs to be in a format that you can easily follow.

The first thing you should do with a recipe is redraft it into a style you'll be able to more easily follow. Get it to work with your brain. The second thing you should do with a recipe after having redrafted it, is FOLLOW the damn thing. It is there to be your guide, your path through the woods. Get to grandma's house without incident at least once before letting the troupe of wolves that of improv culination and experimentation lead you astray from your path. You will build an intuition of what you can and can't get away with changing over time, but to start out: YOU OUGHTA JUST FOLLOW THE RECIPE. THAT'S WHAT IS THERE FOR.

3. Have fun. You won't get better at cooking if you don't enjoy the process. You'll just avoid it. If you try something and it doesn't work, well: Is good excuse as any to order pizza from any company not currently named by BDS as a boycott target. Note what went wrong in your recipe doc and then laugh it off.

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deathmybride · 9 months ago

Text

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ midnight at noonday | dead poets society *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

ship: Surprise! x fem!OC

warnings: none... yet (muahahaha)

summary: Clare Keating is given the opportunity to attend the prestigious all-boy's preparatory school Welton Academy. Boy-mad and in denial, she must navigate friendships, crushes, and academics, all while helping to run the school's underground poets club.

word count: 2949

a/n: Hi guys, this chapter was originally written in third person, but I changed it to first person. I have read through it MANY times to ensure that the pronouns all make sense, and used control F, but it seems that some continue to slip through the cracks. I am very sorry if any mistakes remain after I have posted this notice. (Also this was originally published on AO3!)

There would be no flowers for Welton’s first female student. The only welcome I received was a short paragraph at the end of the Welton annual letter including my surname and the promise to any concerned parents that the faculty would not let my presence distract their sons from their studies. I was to keep my head down, study hard, and make no sudden moves, lest I be transferred to Henley Hall, leaving my father behind. I don’t offer you this position lightly, Miss Keating. Mister Nolan’s voice plagued my thoughts. Don’t make me regret where I place my faith. My breath seemed to catch on a thorn in my throat, and I lost my grip on my heavy suitcases that thumped to the floor on either side of me. My vest was scratchy, blouse stiff with too much starch, blazer too thick around the neck and boiling hot, skirt too long, shoes too tight… I thought of my father down at the gates, ‘holding the fort,’ which no doubt meant fighting for my thin claim to a place in the most exclusive boys’ preparatory school in the United States; pleading my case, charming the parents, dying inside.

“That’s the Keating girl!”

The raucous hallway chatter trickled to a whisper as the boys drew in around me.

“Yeah, from the newsletter.”

“You sure?”

“Who else could it be, dummy?”

I tore my eyes from the floor to see dozens of boys stealing glances at me as they passed, and a few outright gawking.

“Doesn’t she look like a barrel o’ laughs?” One of them hissed.

“What does she need two suitcases for?”

“Special treatment.”

I tried to speak, but my teeth were somehow glued together. I tried to walk, but my feet were cast in concrete.

“Hey, get out of the way, would you?” Someone bumped into my back. “You’re taking up the whole hallway!”

I turned, arms stiff and mouth dry to see a frowning young man with a froggish mouth and a face full of orange freckles. I tried to apologise, but only a thin trickle of air escaped my throat.

“Oh, you’re Keating’s daughter! Hi, how ya going? I’m Richard Cameron.” His hand shot up to smooth his auburn flat top. He paused, eyebrows raised for an answer. “Oookaaay.” He looked at me like I was crazy, and I feared he might be right. “You really oughta move, you’re gonna get trampled.”

“Clare.” I whispered to his back as it disappeared into the crowd. “My name’s Clare.”

Regaining my voice lent me a small burst of energy, just enough to pick my cases back up and hobble a few more steps down the hall. My arms burned with the effort and my lungs seemed far too small. I gritted my teeth and closed my mind to the hushed gossiping happening right in front of me. Just a few more steps, surely my room would be just around this bend. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. The hallway led to yet another hallway. Surely I should just sit down and die of heatstroke, right? I'll just leave my spirit here, cursed to eternally wander this academic desert...

“...the Keating girl…” Over the ruckus I heard a fragment of the Cameron boy’s voice. “Well… pretty enough… idiot savant or something!”

My stomach turned over. What was wrong with me? I strained to remember if I had hit my head some time between breakfast and the welcome ceremony and turned visibly stupid. The humiliation was almost too much to bear, and I felt my knees on the verge of buckling.

“Hey, excuse me?” Just as my heart was about to break, another soft voice spoke up, leaving me no time at all to wallow in self pity. “Would you like some help with your bags?” The voice belonged to another red-head, this time with a kindly, mouse-ish face and big browline glasses. He smiled soothingly when I failed to respond and gestured to my bags. “My friends and I would be happy to help you.”

“Uh-th-” I pressed my lips together and swallowed hard against the urge to vomit. “That’s okay.”

“Hey, they must weigh a ton! We don’t mind, really.” Two more boys appeared at the red-head’s side, the taller one spoke up and took no time to pick up the bag at my left, making a little ‘oof’ sound as he stood up.

“Thank you, y-you really don’t have to.”

“Charlie, help her out would you?” The red-head hit his shorter friend on the arm insistently.

“Is that an order, Meeks?” The friend quirked an eyebrow.

“You wanna fail Latin? No. So pick the bag up. I’m sorry about this.” He addressed me again, placing a solemn hand on his heart. “My name is Steven Meeks, this is Knox Overstreet-”

“Hi, there.” The taller boy took a step forward and nodded. He had the sort of dorky casanova spirit in his hazel eyes and lop-sided smile that was unmissable.

“-and-”

“Charlie.” He sidled up, arranged his face in a smouldering smirk, and offered his hand to shake. “Dalton.”

“It’s very nice to meet all of you.” I was very glad to have my voice back, though I nearly lost it again when Charlie swooped in and kissed the back of my hand. I snatched it away and cast a fearful glance up and down the hallway, thankfully seeing no teachers or hall monitors. “You can’t do that! What if somebody saw?”

“What if?” His cocky smile faltered as his eyebrows furrowed.

“They’d transfer me to Henley Hall!”

“Oh.” His face fell.

“Anyway, Miss Keating,” Steven stepped in to put us back on track, calming me with his even temper. “We’re on our way to visit our good friend Neil Perry to organise a study group for this semester. Would you like to join us?”

“Oh, sure.” A genuine smile grew on my face, the first since I had arrived at Welton. “I’d really appreciate that, thank you. And please, call me Clare.”

“No problem, Clare.” He put a gentle hand on my shoulder to show me the way, but the moment was brief and clandestine.

“You got a speciality?” Knox grunted as he lugged the suitcase along.

“Knoxious, her father’s the English teacher.” Charlie rolled his eyes, voice tense with effort.

“Well, sure, but maybe she hates English, and that’s why!”

“I-I don’t. I’m happy to cover English, but I can also do History if you need me to.”

“You’re in.” Charlie winked. “But no way are you doing History. That’s mine. I can’t be a total free-loader now, can I?”

“I suppose not.”

We shuffled along the hall until we came to a room mid-way along. Charlie and Knox dropped my bags by the door and the three boys crowded around the doorway, waiting for whoever was inside to notice them. I pushed my thumb into my palm, waiting on the outskirts of the group.

“Rumour has it,” Charlie pointed an accusatory finger into the room. “You did summer school.”

“Yep, chemistry.” I propped myself onto my tiptoes, trying to see over the group. “My father thought I should get ahead. How’s your summer, Slick?”

“Keen.” Charlie took a sauntering step forward, earning half a laugh from Steven. He stepped into the room and tossed over his shoulder, “Meeks, door, closed.”

I took note of Charlie and Meek’s strange dynamic of mutual bossiness, and decided I liked this old married couple. Steven and Knox heaved my cases into the room, sliding one into a free space behind the right side closet and the other beside the desk on the left, while I slipped in quietly and closed the door, feeling much safer with no prying eyes on me. I quickly relieved myself of my blazer and hung it over my arm.

“What’s all this?” The boy with the dark hair- Neil, I supposed- poked one of the cases with his toe.

“Oh, Neil, this is Clare Keating.” Steven spoke up, his hand genially placed on my upper arm.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” The prettiest boy I had ever seen stooped down and took my hand, shaking it delicately. “I’m Neil Perry.”

“I’m Cl- It’s um, nice to meet you Neil… Perry.” I stumbled, transfixed by two dark eyes under two thick eyebrows, the colour of stained oakwood.

“Aw jeez, here we go.”

“Shut up, Charlie.” Neil said evenly, barely tossing a glance at him. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

He stepped away and stood by the radiator beneath the window, the autumn sun forming a halo on his sooty hair. The room seemed to blur and disappear behind his radiance, like a soft focus photograph. I had never felt embarrassed by a person's beauty until that moment.

“Gentlemen, what are the four pillars?”

“Travesty!” They all chanted, Knox shushing them frantically. “Horror! Decadence! Excrement!”

I found myself giggling at their antics, feeling a swell of gratitude to have found such a kind group of people in such a frightening place. Neil grinned at me as they all found places to sit, sending a current of electricity through my heart. I suddenly found myself with a huge excess of energy, and feeling it would be a bridge too far to sit on a stranger’s bed- there being no seats left- settled for standing at Steven’s side.

“Okay, study group.” Charlie got down to it. “Meeks aced Latin, I didn’t quite flunk History, and Clare here has gotta be an English whizz; so, if you want, we got our study group.”

“Sure. Cameron asked me too.” Neil said, a little reluctantly. “Anyone mind including him?”

I wished I could speak up about overhearing his insult earlier, but I couldn’t bring myself too. Instead, I promised myself I would try to give the boy a second chance, now that I had my voice back.

“What’s his specialty, bootlicking?” Charlie rolled his eyes and sparked a cigarette.

“He’s your roommate.” Neil fired back.

“That’s not my fault.”

“Uh, I’m sorry, my name is Steven Meeks.” Ever the gentlemen, Steven introduced himself to a young man that had gone entirely unnoticed by me. I felt ashamed to have brushed over him so easily, but how could I blame myself under circumstances like these?

“Oh, this is Todd Anderson.” Neil reached over to tap the boy encouragingly on the back. The boys all exchanged handshakes and pleasantries, leaving me as the last.

“I’m Clare Keating.” I shook his hand, feeling it cold and clammy to the touch. “It’s nice to meet you, Todd.”

“Nice to meet you.” He muttered, face red beneath his freckles, and shied away quickly.

“Todd’s brother was Jeffrey Anderson.” Neil stated, as if I should be impressed.

“Oh, yeah sure!” Charlie saved me the embarrassment. “Valedictorian. National Merit scholar.”

I thought of my father, the Welton honours graduate, Cambridge educated, published poet, well-liked by all… Tough shoes to fill.

“Welcome to Hell-ton!” Steven exclaimed.

“It’s every bit as tough as they say,” Charlie said gravely. “Unless you’re a genius, like Meeks.”

“He flatters me. That’s why I help him with Latin.”

“And English, and trig.” Charlie interrupted himself with a cough.

A knock came on the door. All in a second, an Oxford shoe ground out the cigarette and kicked it under Neil’s bed, I disappeared into the wardrobe, stepping onto the suitcase laying at the bottom, and drew the curtain across and held my breath. I had no idea where my sudden instinct for rebellion had risen from, but I was thankful for it when the door creaked open and an authoritative footstep sounded on the floor outside.

“Father,” Neil’s voice cracked. “I thought you’d gone.”

I heard my new friends form a chorus of ‘hello, Mr Perry,’ and scramble to their feet. I held a hand over my mouth to quiet my breathing.

“Keep your seats, fellas, keep your seats.” An older man’s voice said genially. “Neil, I’ve just spoken to Mr Nolan. I think you’re taking too many extracurricular activities this semester, and I’ve decided that you should drop the school annual.”

“But, I’m the assistant editor this year.” My heart nearly broke at the distress in his voice.

“Well, I’m sorry Neil.” Mr Perry’s voice carried a challenging undercurrent.

“But, father, I can’t! It wouldn’t be fair!” Neil’s voice raised frantically.

“Fellas, would you excuse us a moment?”

A silence fell and I held my breath as the pair stepped past my hiding place on the way out. Too terrified to move, I stayed where I was, hearing their argument muffled through the wall. After a few moments, it seemed Neil’s father had departed and the rest of the boys had made their way over to comfort him. I had never been so grateful for my father. Yet, I still failed to move, frozen at the thought that the old ghoul might be staring right at me if I pulled away the curtain. After a few moments, a hesitant hand pulled back the fabric to reveal Neil’s sweet little roommate who seemed so uninterested in making friends.

“Um, h-he’s gone.”

“Thanks, Tom.” I stepped down and gave him a grateful smile. “That was scary, huh?”

“U-um…” Tom went beet-red and wide-eyed, stammering like words were hot food in his mouth.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was this your suitcase? I didn’t mean to step on it, it just sort of happened. I don’t think I broke it.”

“N-no, I…”

“Well, uh, Latin?” Steven and the others stepped back into the room, interrupting us. “Eight o’clock in my room?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds good.”

“Todd, Clare, you’re welcome to join us.” Steven addressed us. My heart sank.

“Yeah, come along guys.” Knox spoke up.

“Thanks.” Todd nodded, eyes still wide.

“Thank you, I’ll be there.” I promised, and as the others filed out, I turned to Todd and grimaced sheepishly. I had my voice back, for sure, and now a torrent of words poured out of me. “Oh, jeez, Todd, I’m sorry. I’m terrible with names, I really am. I really blew it didn’t I? I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you somehow, I promise.”

“It-it’s okay.” He nodded, smiled stiffly, and sat down at his desk with his back to me.

“Well, I… I better bounce.” I said to the back of his head. “Um, Neil?” The boy wandered into the room, listless and dejected, but made an effort to brighten his expression when I addressed him. “I’m so sorry to inconvenience you, but, do you think you could show me to the teacher’s wing?”

“Of course.” He bent down to pick up one of my suitcases, groaning when he straightened back up. “Gosh, this is heavy. What do you have in here?”

“It’s books, mostly.” I took the other one and lugged it out of the room. “I can’t do without them.”

“The perks of having a teacher for a father, I suppose.” He said, a wistful tone in his voice. “At least they keep you strong, huh?”

“Hmm.” To my dismay, I could find nothing to say to comfort the boy, or anything to say at all, for that matter. I wished I could just be consistent.

“Hey, smart thinking in there!” Charlie appeared beside us, grinning proudly. “I didn’t pin you for the rebellious type, but you seem to be a natural.”

“I don’t know about that…”

“Here, let me take that for you.” Before I could protest, the suitcase was out of my hands. “Where are we off to?”

“Teacher’s wing.”

“Well, you went completely the wrong way. How did you manage that?” Charlie shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, we’ll get you there.”

As we traipsed through the halls, retracing most of my steps, I couldn’t help but steal glances at Neil. My mind raced with verse after verse at the faraway look in his eyes. I felt like Byron, struck by beauty in the moonlight and scrambling to capture the moment like a firefly in a jar of words.

“Neil?” I said softly, surprised for a moment to hear my own voice. “I’m sorry about… the thing, the newspaper.”

“It’s fine.” He smiled sadly, but gratefully. “I still have soccer and… stuff.”

“My father is coaching soccer. We might be on the same team.”

“Maybe.” His smile grew a little more genuine. “You’d better hope you’re not with Charlie. He’s a terror.”

“Is it a crime to want to win?” Charlie retorted.

“You’d think it's a crime not to, the way you carry on.”

“Yeah, yeah. Which room?”

“Three-ten. I think it’s the first one here.”

Sure enough, my room was the first one in the wing, closest to the hallway. I thanked the both of them, laughing as Charlie waggled his eyebrows and bowed with mock reverence on his way. Neil lingered a moment by my door under the pretence of making sure I had everything right and that my key worked.

“I’ll see you at the study group, then.” I leaned up against the doorframe, feeling infinitely lucky to have the privilege of looking at him.

“See you then.” He turned to go, but hesitated. “Hey, Clare? If you need anything, come find one of us. Those guys you met today are some of the most upstanding people at this school. We’ll help you if you’re ever… I don’t know. If you ever need it.”

“Thank you, Neil. I appreciate that.”

With a final nod of acknowledgement, he disappeared, and I ran across the room and tossed myself onto the bed, exhausted, and dreading the task of unpacking the horrible truth: I had fallen right off the deep end and landed squarely in love with Neil Perry.

#neil perry x reader #todd anderson x reader #steven meeks x reader #gerard pitts x reader #charlie dalton x reader #richard cameron x reader #knox overstreet x reader #dead poets society #dead poets x reader #dead poets society x reader

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sweeterthanthis · 3 years ago

Note

Thinking about this man. ❤️

Pairing: Destroyer Chris x F!SW!Reader

Summary: You tell yourself he's your favourite client because of the way he fucks you. Nothing more, nothing less. Right?

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, reader is a sex worker, vaginal sex, mild breath play, teasing, safe sex, fluff if you squint, sex in the rain (hnngh), Chris and his dirty mouth, jealousy and possessiveness if you squint, 18+.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This is a continuation of Pretty Reckless, but can be read as a stand alone fic. Thank you @dreamlessinparis for all your help!

All my works are 18+. If you click the read more tab, you are agreeing that you are 18 or over, have read the warnings and take responsibility for your own media consumption. I do not consent to having my work translated or posted anywhere else.

“Remember when we first met?” Chris asks you, his nose skimming the column of your throat as you try to keep your heels planted firmly on the dashboard. It’s not easy, not when his rings are pinching into your bare waist and his fingernails are digging into your flesh.

“You mean when I punched you in the face?” You snipe in a bratty tone, reaching behind you to grip the headrest behind him and grinding your cunt down onto him again. Nobody fills you up like he does, and fuck, if he doesn’t know it. “Watch the nails. Gonna mark me up and then nobody’s gonna wanna fuck me.”

“I wanna fuck you,” he tells you, smirking against your shoulder when you groan; his balls slapping against your clit as he pounds up into you. The thin rubber barrier between the two of you is an ever present reminder that this is exactly what you say it is. A prostitute and a client, a weekly arrangement, and a $200 cash wad that you could add to this months rent jar. “One day I’m gonna fuck you in a goddamn bed.”

“You wanna fuck me in a bed?” You ask, smirking as you sit forward just a little, bouncing yourself softly on his dick. You lock eyes with him in the rear view mirror, bright and expectant. “Guess you oughta get a motel room next time then, huh?”

A dirty giggle escapes you when he reaches for your throat, squeezing it the way he knows you like. It seems to be important to him; getting you off. That’s not something you’re used to. Of course, there’s the odd client here and there who wants to put the effort in, but Chris is a different breed. His free hand dips between your legs, toying with your throbbing clit as he grinds his hips up against the meat of your ass.

“If I get that motel room, you gonna spend the whole night with me?” He asks you, his voice husky and deep. The scent of him engulfs you. It’s nothing special. It wouldn’t be on any other man, at least. But on him? On him, the scent of leather and generic cologne is intoxicating.

“That depends,” you trail off, his hand falling from your throat as you maneuver yourself to face him in the passenger seat of his truck, gripping his latex-ridden cock and sinking back down onto it with a blissful hum. “You gonna pay for the whole night?”

Chris groans, ringed fingers finding your throat once again, squeezing it a little tighter this time - enough to cause your breath to hitch. It has your cunt tightening around his girth, and a smirk spreads across his irresistible lips. It makes you want to punch him in the face all over again. For old time’s sake. “You’re killin’ me, woman.”

“You knew what you were getting yourself into,” you grin, dipping your chin and catching his fingertips between your teeth. You suckle them into your mouth, groaning when you feel the pressure of them against your tongue, slipping further towards the back of your throat as you gag at the welcome intrusion. The noise your lips make as they slurp at his digits has him driving his cock up into you, stretching you out and hitting every blissful spot. You release them with a sloppy, wet pop; his fingers slick with your drool. “F’I’m killing you like you say I am, why’d you keep coming back, hm?”

Chris doesn’t answer you, instead gripping your biceps and holding you still in his lap. There’s a moment of quiet between the two of you; his length buried to the hilt inside you, and his cerulean baby blues looking anywhere but into your eyes. You decide that you don’t want an answer to the question you asked.

“C’mon, fuck me,” you urge, slowly rolling your hips and grinding yourself down onto him. His eyes flutter closed, his breaths ragged. You lean in close, your lips tickling the hook of his jaw as you rise and fall on his cock, just once. “Been looking forward to a good pounding all week. You’re not gonna let me down, are you?”

The low rumble of disapproval echoing from his throat has you smirking, loving that you know exactly how to hit a nerve. Especially his. Chris’ hands squeeze at your breasts, firmer than you’d usually allow. You gasp when his palms slap against your flesh, the sting perfectly melding with the pleasure you feel from his cock pulsing against your cunt.

“Get out of the fuckin’ car.” You ignore the pinch in your chest at the aggressive tone behind his words, but when your eyes find his, your stomach flutters with excitement at the hunger you see behind them. The rain pattering against the windshield reminds you of the dingey conditions, and you cock your brow at him questioningly. “What? You ‘fraid of getting a little wet?”

You look back at the clock on the dash. 3.34am. It’s not like you need to keep yourself pretty for the next client. There is no next client. You’ve made enough tonight to pay rent and utilities, with a healthy amount to spare.

Fuck it.

The rain is cold against your clammy skin, but you welcome the refreshing chill as the droplets snake down the nape of your neck. Your skirt hitched up around your waist and your breasts falling free of your top. You’re shoved against the side of his truck before you can get your bearings, his beard scratching at your neck and his teeth grazing your collarbone.

“Think you forget sometimes that I’m paying to fuck you,” he tells you, his tone edged with a subtle playfulness that lets you know he’s only half joking, at least. Chris spins you around in his hold, your palms seeking purchase against the wet metal in front of you as he nudges the tip of his cock against your soaked folds. “You give those other assholes this much sass? Bet you don’t. Bet you barely make a fuckin’ sound.

His cock splits you open, any comeback you had dying on your tongue. The only noise that escapes you is the deep, guttural moan that lingers in the air when he bottoms out inside you. He fills you up better than anyone ever has, not that you’d ever tell him that. The cool metal of his rings pinches at your shoulder, hand holding you firm as uses you as leverage, pounding into your dripping cunt so hard, you think your legs might give out.

“Bet you can’t wait for them to blow their load and fuck off, can you?” He chuckles, the knuckles of his free hand skimming your nipples; sore and aching from the chill of the stormy air. The sound of his cock fucking into you is barely audible over the sound of thunder in the night sky, but its the only thing you can focus on. “You wish they were all like me, baby?”

You didn’t. Not for a single second.

“Gone all quiet on me? C’mon, talk to me. Gimme that mouth,” he coaxes you, the meat of your ass rippling and soaking wet from the rain. His hand slips from your shoulder, encasing your throat as he yanks your head back; his beard scratching against your damp cheek. “Come all over my dick and tell me how good it feels. Tell me I’m the only one that fucks you this good.”

You can't think straight, and words seem to be an impossible task as you lose yourself in the feeling of being used by him. Driving your hips back against him, you fuck yourself on his dick, reaching between your legs and giving his balls a firm squeeze. He hisses, and you giggle; nipping at his throat with your teeth.

"If you don't come soon, I'm gonna," he chokes out, his strokes staggered, one hand pressed against the truck window just a few inches from your own. You fight back the sentimental urge to reach for it.

Your fingers strum at your clit, in time with your hips as they wind back against him. The grunts and groans that vibrate against the top of your head are enough to send you soaring towards the bliss he so desperately wants you to feel. Toes curling in your boots, arching up on your tiptoes, you shatter around his cock; your cries cancelled out by the rainwater gushing into the drain behind you.

You find yourself wishing you could feel him, feel his cum warming your insides. You settle for the sensation of his cock tensing against your walls, grinding your spent cunt against him as firm as your shaky knees will allow.

"Fuck," he grunts, thrusting deep inside you one last time, his lips hovering at your temple. "Lemme drive you home."

"We talked about this.." you groan, nudging your elbow back against his ribs and reaching to pull your drenched panties back up. "I'm fine walking."

"It's almost 4am and you're soaked," Chris argues, plucking the condom off his dick and tying a knot in the end of it. He doesn't know that you live less than a block away, and he doesn't need to know. "Would it really be so dangerous? I'm a cop, not a savage."

"Aren't they one and the same these days?" You quip, tugging your skirt down and yanking your top back up. Opening the passenger door, you reach in and grab your purse, quietly inhaling the comforting scent of him before slamming it shut again. "I'm a big girl, Chris. Can take care of myself just fine."

"You're a stubborn ass, is what you are." You giggle at that, your arms outstretched either side of you as you toss your head back and stick your tongue out; raindrops soaking into your tongue.

"And that's why you keep coming back," you tell him smugly, "I'll keep the whole night free, same time next week? Don't book into that shitty, roach infested place downtown either. I may be a hooker, but I do have standards." Turning on your heel and grinning to yourself, you walk away mourning the loss of him between your thighs.

You'll never say it out loud, but next Thursday can't come quick enough.

I no longer have a tag list, but if you want to keep up to date with what I post follow my sideblog, @sweetersficlibrary , and turn on alerts to be notified whenever I post something new 💕

#destroyer!chris x you #destroyer!chris x reader #destroyer!chris smut #destroyer!chris fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #destroyer chris x reader #destroyer chris x you

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elvisabutler · 2 years ago

Text

the girl is mine

summary: the colonel has never liked you. he likes you even less with this special and suggests a quick divorce to free up elvis. you bear the brunt of elvis's aggravation on the matter. you're his, aren't you? fandom: austin butler | elvis ( 2022 ) | elvis presley pairing: austin butler elvis x female reader rating: m. word count: 1423 warnings: throat fucking. possessiveness. 68 special elvis. the colonel being the colonel. mild hint of face fucking. oral ( m receiving, f implied/referenced ). reference to cheating but no one is cheating. author's note: welcome to the double dip day 29 for kinktober, throat fucking with austin!elvis. imagine who you want, this is supposed to be austin!elvis and imagines what happened post the "mmhmm" scene but can be read either way. i've got no other real comments to say other than woo i am almost done- in the middle of november- with kinktober ( at least the main parts since i had that tiny gaggle of double dips ). also at some point tonight you might end up seeing a little mood board for something i've been cooking up.

Once upon a time you're pretty sure that the Colonel was useful to Elvis. Once upon a time he helped your now husband navigate a world he was never a part of. Once upon a time he helped him shoot to the level of stardom that no one had ever seen before. He had his use once upon a time but nowadays you truly wonder what exactly is his use. Elvis's last films had flopped, Elvis was deliriously unhappy with the quality of work he was putting out and well- he was just unhappy in general, unfulfilled and you knew better than anyone that an unfulfilled Elvis was a dangerous Elvis.

Elvis had kept you in the dark as to what all exactly was happening in the special, telling you that he wanted to have you be just another audience member and saying "don't you be asking Jerry 'bout it, he ain't gonna tell you either." It's fun if you're being honest, usually you're at least mildly privy to the things your husband will do but not today. Of course, this meant that you wanted to go and congratulate him on what was one of the best shows you think he's ever done with some of the best singing you've ever heard and tell him how the entire crowd was obsessed with him.

But, then you hear it outside the door. You hear your husband's voice harden, you hear the Colonel threaten him and you fight the urge to storm in there, guns blazing to ever so delicately- truthfully not at all- punch that toad in the face. Before you can properly entertain the idea, the door is opening and the Colonel leaves but not before glancing at you with a huff and a shake of his head. You think maybe you should let Elvis cool off, knowing fully well that when he gets hotheaded that sometimes even you can't cool him down and you hate being on the receiving end of his frustration like this especially when you were in such a good mood. But you hear him muttering and you know that no, you ought to check on him.

"Baby?" Your voice is quiet when you enter the room but Elvis hears it nonetheless his facial features shifting from pure anger to something far more fond for a moment.

"Darlin'." He opens up his arms as if to ask you to come closer so that he can hug you and you oblige knowing you just want to do whatever it'll take to make him feel better. You'd like to talk about it, but- that might be better saved for later. "Colonel's- talking goddamn silliness again. Thinkin' I oughta divorce ya after that comment you made about the sewing machine and how you make a great wife but you'd rather hand stitch or have a professional do it in that one magazine."

You bite your lip in a bit of embarrassment before you shrug. "It's the truth though, I know even with those machines anything I turn out isn't gonna be half as good as what I can pay an honest working woman to do for me. Should be happy about it. I didn't say it wasn't a good-"

He chuckles, cutting you off. "You might as well have." He rubs at the back of his neck in thought before he sighs. "He thinks- He never has liked ya, thinks you're with me for all the wrong reasons, thinks you're sleeping with half the Mafia when you and I both know you wouldn't dream of that. Right Mama?"

There's a pause where you lick your lips and ponder before nodding. It's in the moment that you look up and see Elvis's eyes looking just a little more stormy than they already were that you realize your playful pause was a mistake. You open your mouth to say something before he places his finger on top of your lips.

"Not a peep out of you darlin'. I know the Colonel ain't right because you've been a good girl. You are a good girl. Always take my cock so well. Always let me get my fill of ya." He moves to grasp your chin, pulling you in for a soft kiss that quickly turns into him nipping at your lower lip. "Can I use you right now, darlin'? Get what I need out of you for right now? I'll give you a present at the end."

You should say no, you should say no because usually when Elvis is like this and asks you a question like that you end up doing something that you really shouldn't have. But- he's your husband and truth be told- the idea of having a promised present at the end fills you with enough excitement that you nod your head slowly. "How do you want me, baby?"

He shakes his head as he bites at his lips. "On your knees for me." He pulls at the tie on his robe, revealing that he isn't wearing a stitch of clothing underneath. You gulp as if it's your first time as you sink to your knees. You should wait until Elvis is ready, should wait until he pulls your mouth onto his cock but you don't, you see how he's for some reason already hardening just by looking at you on the floor so you start to wrap your lips around the tip earning a moan from him.

"Satnin." He groans, his hand moving to cup the back of your head, cupping your neck in an effort to get you to take more of him into your mouth. He knows he could get you to deep throat him immediately, you'd adjust but he's trying to be gentle. As if you can hear him being worried about the need to be gentle you look up at him and relax your throat, a hand moving on top of his giving him permission.

It's all the permission he needs, his fingers somehow gripping at your hair in whatever way he can and pushing your mouth further down his cock until he feels the tip of him against the back of your throat. You're coughing around his cock a little, trying to adjust even as you swear he's becoming girthier than he already was. The temptation to shut your eyes is there but you resist making sure to train your eyes on Elvis even as you try and make a swallowing motion knowing that the few times you've done it before Elvis has seemed to enjoy it.

The way his hand tightens and tries to yank at your hair tells you that you made the right decision. His thrusts into your mouth are sloppy as he mumbles above you words that are truly going in one ear and out the other with you catching snippets about "the colonel" "best girl" "my wife" and you start to clench your thighs together, your hand moving down to between your legs before he does a particularly rough thrust that has him hitting the back of your throat with enough force you can't help but stop breathing for a moment.

"Don't- Goddamn- sorry darlin' but don't you be touching what's mine. Gonna take care of you like I always do. You just wait a few minutes." He mutters, shutting his eyes for a moment as if to stave off the inevitable that is coming barreling faster than he intends it to.

Now that you know that you being touched depends on him coming first, you hum around his cock, the vibrations causing him to still for just a moment before an almost inhuman growl leaves his body, the thrusts and the pulling and pushing of your head on his cock reaching an almost fever pitch as you try and keep up, your tongue moving and your mouth just focusing on the task at hand. It doesn't take too long until you feel him coming while he's at the back of your throat, the salt and warmth of it coating your mildly abused throat as you try and not cough too much, as you try and not waste too much.

When Elvis pulls you off his cock, you think he's going to say something before you feel him picking you up and just setting you on the vanity behind the two of you and pulling down your underwear. Your voice is a little rough when you speak. "Elvis?"

"We'll talk later. Think I promised you a present, didn't I?"

#austin butler elvis x you #austin butler elvis x reader #austin butler elvis #austin butler elvis x y/n #austin elvis x reader #austin elvis #austin elvis x you #austin elvis x y/n #elvis 2022 #ally's kinktober 2022 #kinktober 2022 #ally writes

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peppermintquartz · 2 months ago

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Captain Buckley-Kinard is too good-looking, Kieren thinks to himself as he changes out of his turnouts, especially when he is smiling like that over family dinner that he himself cooked. It's "Bobby's Chili", though Kieren has yet to figure out who the hell Bobby is.

Kieren is happy to be posted to Station 28, don't get him wrong. It just sucks that he is crushing hard on his captain, knowing he has zero chance.

Because right there, next to his stupidly attractive Captain, is his captain's husband. Thomas ("Call me Tom") Kinard was a legend at the 217, according to some of Kieren's fellow firefighters from the same cohort; apparently, the man was mad enough to fly a chopper right into a hurricane, and on a separate occasion, flew into a raging forest fire in the San Fernando Valley while winds were raging up to 70 mph. On both occasions, scuttlebutt says, Captain Buckley-Kinard was involved too.

Anyway, Cap's husband has since retired. He is a silver fox. Those cheekbones should be illegal, and the deep grooves of his face that appear when he smiles only add to his charm. He's got a nice silvery stubbly beard too, and when he laughs, Cap lights up too. Kieren can see the young men they used to be when they gaze at each other.

It's aggravating.

It would have been easier if Kinard was a standoffish, arrogant jerk. But he's nice. He brings Cap special treats with extra snacks for the whole team; he helps to fix their cars ("keeps me out of trouble"); he's even flown Sandra and her wife in a chopper for a romantic getaway to Napa Valley. If the team works holidays, Tom Kinard will show up with a veritable feast, along with their twins (Joanna and Jacob).

It's really aggravating.

"You look irritated," Lenny says under his breath when Kieren finally joins them. Kieren elbows his partner when Lenny grins at him knowingly and leans over. "You're glaring at the trophy husband. Again."

"Shut up," Kieren manages to say without moving his lips.

"Okay I gotta go or I'll be late," Tom says, standing up. "The kids are having a sleepover at Parker's."

Cap kisses his husband, sweet and fond. "Say hi to Chim and Hen for me."

Tom crinkles a smile. "Will do. Love you. Be safe."

"Be safe."

Cap is watching his husband walk away like he can't get enough. Kieren can't blame him; even in his fifties, Tom Kinard has a very nice ass.

"You're so lucky, Cap," Lenny says, picking a soy sauce wing from the serving plate. "Maybe you oughta share some tips for us poor lonesome guys. How did you find your happily ever after?"

Cap grins, his blue eyes bright and he almost looks like he's blushing. "We had our ups and downs. Broke up once. Argued a lot. But we found our way eventually. And, uh, I'm gonna pass on some advice I was given about happy endings: You don't find it, son, you make it."

Lenny reaches out a fist and Cap bumps it. "Thanks, Cap."

"Anytime." Cap goes off to the oven when it dings.

Kieren is chewing thoughtfully on a morsel when Lenny turns to him. "Hey, I got a couple of free day passes for the aquarium that needs using up by next weekend. You wanna come with me on Thursday?"

Surprised, Kieren swallows and shrugs. "Sure, why not?"

"Great! I'll pick you up at nine, we'll grab breakfast, and then, fishies." Lenny looks like he's going to say something else, but averts his gaze and returns to his food.

Kieren catches Henderson's amused grin and wonders what he has done that's funny. Ah well.

Househusband Buck this, househusband Buck that, what about househusband TOMMY?

Give me Captain Buckley-Kinard and his trophy husband who puts silly little sticky notes in his lunch!! Please!!

#tommy kinard #evan buckley #tevan #bucktommy #pq writes

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