#i'm aiming for the machine but you're in it

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141: Mafia AU! - Ch 2: Mini Epilogue

{A/N: I might make this a regular thing 'cause I love character development} Link below to the 2nd Chapter :DD

Graves never knew he could laugh that hard.

It was like he got left hooked by that hooker again. Swift and out of nowhere- knocked him out of his knickers really. (Yes, he did wake up without it after being knocked out cold.)

It was said so nonchalantly and off-handedly like it was natural for you to assume that he was the 'boogeyman incarnate.'

He was just so amused by you blatantly and ever so confidently insulting him, right in front of his face.

He was quite surprised himself, usually- if someone had insulted him right in front of his face- a barrel would instantly be between their eyes, or a quick flip of his knife would find itself lodged right besides one of their ears-- whichever he was in the mood for really.

But you.

The glaring exception that he stumbled upon when he just wanted to do a quick smoke at his favorite spot at the bakery.

Before he even entered, he heard murmurs echoing, waking him out of his tired stupor and sobering himself up as he prepares to- potentially- make contact.

It might be that stupid cat that hates him whenever he goes to this spot, but with all the clearly pronounced non-cat like "meows-" he guesses it would be a person, playing with that ridiculously hedonistic cat. (He knows that plump white cat gets spoiled by Nonna and Nonno when they see 'em.)

So he rounds the corner, silently, steps carefully calculated with the intent of dodging anything that would make a sound.

Yet he pauses, taking a better look at you.

‘Who the hell were you?’

Why was there a stranger at his Nonna and Nonno’s place? There was no way you were a thief, judging from the looks of your outfit and how utterly careless of a job you did if you ever infiltrated this place.

Also…why a bakery? Were… you that hungry?

Maybe… he could provide a better source of income for you, instead of living the live of an unruly street rat.

Even if you were a new face, you had to know the rules of the street.

So he asks, and just like that cat- you jump and unceremoniously land on your ass. Yewouch.

He keeps the grimace to himself, keeping his guard up as you seem to…

not?

be intimated?

by him???

What is going on.

Now, he definitely has to get your ID and papers from the border patrol at the edges of the city. There was no way that someone from this city would act like this, especially if they have been out and around.

He wanted- no... that wasn't right... needed to know who you are.

You were like an itch at the back of his head that he couldn't scratch. Whether you were a threat or not, a new person in town never bode well for the families.

His gut tells him that he discovers a new cog in this creaky old machine he call his home.

So, he follows you through the back door, but was unfortunately stopped by that dreaded cat that was waiting for to lower his guard enough to assault him from the shadows.

He definitely needs his vengeance on that cat.

Once he gets away, he slicks back his hair in a huff as he went in and watch you absent-mindedly wash your hands.

"mio figlio*!" {A/N: Italian for "my son"}

He turns and smiles, "Nonna! I miss you!" opening his arms for a hug but all the old woman did was click her tongue and cross her arms.

"I'm surprised you didn't call me old hag," she sends an unimpressed look to him who reacted sheepishly, "why are you here?"

He pouts, "'cause I missed you and Nonno obviously."

"sure," she deadpans, "you're always welcome here son."

"I know that."

She irks at his confidence and proceeded to lift her foot, aiming for him until she sees at the corner of her eye- you, washing your hands for the umpteenth time now.

Connecting the dots and seeing where her son just came from, she smirks and lowers her foot.

"So you met cara?"

He raises his brow and nods, "did you find your new housekeeper from out of town?"

Seeing as how you had the bakery's apron on, he knew that you worked here, as well as the point that you looked a little too comfortable in the well-guarded space of Nonno. (Nonno's kingdom is the kitchen and anything the light touches in that space, anything outside of it is out of his control.)

Hence he charted it up to you being affiliated to either of the hags, and since Nonna just freely strolled up to him-- he'll take his chances.

But she shrugs, making him frown.

"Just came in last night," she begins explaining, "with John and his boys."

Graves sighs, another factor he did not want to think about at the moment.

"John's friend then?"

She shook her head again, making his creases grow deeper. If you weren't related to John, then how did you get to this place? By accident? This spot is so secluded in already desolate part of town, there was no way you came here intentionally. So, he continues gathering information from Nonna.

"Poor cara bumped into Kyle and was so sick that she couldn't get up," Nonna sympathizes, "had to let her stay for the night and let Johnny take care of her 'till the morning."

"Johnny?" He asks a bit astounded, "took care of a stranger?"

She raised her brow, "you think he did it willingly?"

He lets out a short laugh, "you're right."

"She's been cleaning her hands for the 10th time now," Nonna points out, "I think she still haven't sweated the sick off."

He looks at you, and-- lo and behold, you still were, eyes clearly in a daze as you stare at the wall, hands in an endless cycle of washing and drying off.

"You still say that?" He smirks at her shrug.

"Its true."

Graves watches his Nonna turn around to leave, only to get pinched by her again after scrutinizing your hand washing technique. (A++ for thoroughness.)

"Go and snap cara out of it," she nudges his signature mug in his hand, giving his Nonna a thanking smile while she just rolled her eyes- knowing that he could handle the situation that is you.

And so he does, and your reaction is as skittish as ever, even more so than that blasted cat-- maybe he should just call you 'micia.' {A/N: Italian for cat/kitten}

Although your quips immediately erased that thought, how DARE you call him-- a what?

'a boogeyman incarnate?'

First it was a tombstone (he knows that fairly well) but this?

THIS?

This is new.

And... he doesn't quite mind the light, fuzzy feeling in his chest when he got it.

A new refreshing face you are indeed, making him feel things he hasn't before.

So he tries to explain, why he was so apprehended before you left, despite the wheezes that seemed to be never ending.

He wants it to stop but it feels like he walked into a room filled with laughing gas, and it was quite... addicting.

Now he finds himself staring at you, working both the front and back of the bakery like it was a routiened thing ingrained in your brain. Maybe you waited tables before? You looked experienced, both in terms of service and communicating with customers.

He had half a mind to listen to his Nonna's rant about Nonno and the state of this place, but the other half was on you.

You with the messy hair, a food-stained apron, deep bags on your eyes, frame quite frail, hands shaken-- yet a smile stayed so bright like the sun above you in the alleyway.

Now he genuinely wonders how you found yourself here.

Were you like him? Needing a place to call home?

He hums, letting his thoughts spiral until it lands on you again. The you that snapped out of your rhythm and talked with a snark to John and his gang, quite similar in the manner that you did with him- making him grin quite a bit.

Nonna sees this and smirks, patting Graves' shoulder before standing and calling out to you.

He sees the color pop in your eyes, sparkling in wonder as you ask what Nonna wanted before it fully opens in shock at her words. He knew that the old hag likes messing with her kids.

Wanting to know what you were so shocked about, he approached the table with a smirk, a nod in greeting to the others while you were still in a panic, shakily holding onto Nonna's shoulders as you begged her for an explanation.

"Why don't you finish the lunch rush first, cara?"

So you resigned and nodded, having no choice but to comply to finish that part of the list. One ticked off, another tick to do.

As you finish that part of your shift, albeit more slowly now as fewer people entered and finished off their plates, you did a final check up and removed your apron with a relieved sigh.

Sitting with the rest, right in the middle of Suds and Nonna, as you held onto your own mug of cuppa.

You first listen in to the conversation, letting them lead the conversation as you think of ways of how to convince Nonna to give you minimum wage.

Even if it was a single bill for an hour- you'd take it. You just needed to start somewhere, and you would use this stumbled-upon-opportunity to the utmost possible way.

Once the conversation redirects to you and your situation, you took a sip and decided to explain what happened last night.

"That apartment's been run down for years..." Gaz, who you now learned was the kind man who took care of you last night, mentioned softly-- hands fidgeting above the table as he glanced at you and Price- the big boss man- nervously.

"Aye," Soap- you'd like to still call him Suds for fun- agreed with furrowed brow, "ye' said that ya friend lent it to ye' while ya' find a job 'ere?"

You nod, "that's the gist."

"Quite a ways away you are then," Price frowned, "this bakery is at the opposite end from where you need to be, hun."

You groan, sliding further down your seat- thinking of how the unlucky streak you've had has been fucking you up in more ways than Britney has 99 problems.

After a quiet moment of reprieve, you sat up again and down your shot of cuppa courageously.

"I have a proposal."

Nonna gleamed, arms crossed and an ever so present smirk on her face (just like Grieves.)

"Go on then, cara."

You inhaled and nodded, "I know I'm not in a position to ask but while I finish the list, can--"

You hesitated, knowing the heat of their gazes was crawling under your skin and making it itch, but you decided what you had to do-- whether it would to good or bad results thereon.

"-can... can I ask if its possible? Possible to get minimum.. wage.."

She perks up, and this makes you feel that you have to explain more--

"wh-what I mean is that--"

"You want to work here then?" She smiles, her voice soft, quite different from how she's talked to you so far.

You better consider her words now, thinking if it meant what it truly meant.

You nodded and she sighed in relief.

"Good," she pats your arm, "I was starting to feel guilty from how good you were working."

"So you did feel bad!" You glared at the old woman who simply laughs it off, ruffling your hair as your pouted.

"I did, but a job needs to be done."

"And I happen to be here- I know."

You both giggle and finally feel a bit more relaxed, that tension of holding onto that issue now gone quickly as soon as it was brought up.

"What if I contributed to that minimum wage?" Graves suddenly offers and you both turn to him in shock, one in confusion while the other in appreciation.

"Why?"

"I knew I raised you right mio figlio!"

Graves smirks, leaning back onto his chair with his hands in his pockets, "just want to pitch in to the cause."

You huffed, "I'm not a charity case...sir."

He chortles again, knowing that it was hard for you to deny the extra pay as it goes against your morals.

"No, no-" he corrects, "think of it as a son, helping his ma."

He wraps an arm around Nonna's shoulders, making her snuggle into his embrace happily while he looks to the four smugly. He knew that- with this proposal- he'd have more opportunities to... get to know you better per se.

"Then we want to help to," Price proses as well, making Graves throw him a quick pointed glare that earns him the same from the other three.

If he knew John as if he was his brother, then he knew he has a card hiding up his sleeve.

But its still to early to look into that, so he lets it happen.

You, on the other hand, were quite in a predicament of accepting it or not. You still wanted to repay both Price, Nonna, and Nonno (for lodging and food)- but it would be quite awkward if you did so through the means of their own money going back to them.

Although, from the looks of their faces, it seemed like they weren't going to stand down so you nodded- checking in with Nonna if that was alright with her and she simply grinned, an enthused reply of "yes! My sons are the best~!" coming from her.

"So," you cleared your throat, "I start today?"

Nonna thinks about it for a moment, "I don't see why not."

You internally cheer at this.

"Which means you have to know about the family business!"

The table shakes as the men stand in protest, but she pays no mind to it as your focus gets directed to her forcing eye-contact with you by grabbing both your cheeks.

"The family...business?"

"Yes!" you could hear the others scream but you could only hear the next words coming out of her mouth as she whispers...

"we're... a mafia family!"

Hearing this, the color- which is ironic as it is already colorless and pale- drains from your face, making you slump and faint in shock- brain shutting down as you.exe required a self-reboot.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! THE WHOLE LOT OF YOU!"

Nonno enters, now pissed off at the mess and was going to ask you until his brows raised in question at his wife, carrying you by the face- was shaking your limb body awake.

Once again, you regret taking the offer of someone trying to 'un-fuck' your week.

A/N: A little long bit this time hehe (i enjoy writing Graves being one of the first charas that gets "enamored" by you, just because he sees you as an oddity in the city. He actually went to visit Nonna that day because he was so tired of his current life, that he needed a change of pace. He was thinking of helping around for a bit before exploring his options but, lo and behold, you appeared and presented a different kind of opportunity of experience he has yet to feel <//3) All of the boiyos are touch-starved and sometimes- in their moments of weakness- they ache for it hehe Thank you for reading! Next chappie will be up soon (im havin too much fun with world building this au)

[silusvesuius]

n*loth not being able to bag anyone over the (human term) age of 25-30 at most is the only logical and real conclusion to me because it can be just explained away as him wanting to prove and control everything and anyone (Cus he's a man!) but being stuck in that demographic because his unbearable and vile personality is a force that nobody can look past once they've outgrown the possible fear and idolization period of anyone but also n*loth in particular.

[bumblingbabooshka]

Janeway in 'Nothing Human' vs Tuvok in 'Resolutions' There's something here I know there is I can almost wrap my teeth around it.

[jadesabbat]

"Cozy farming and small business games are actually bourgeoisie and Bad" discourse always manages to floor me the rare times it drifts into my net. Like yeah sure, stardew is absolutely the antipraxis or whatever, too much gta turns you into a serial killer, and playing dnd is how you summon demons

[nokingsonlyfooles]

1. Stop Idolizing Creative People.

Erase these lines. Erase them. Please.

All people are creative people. That is part of what it means to be "people". Human beings. Humane. We all have something to say and we are trying desperately to say it. If we go unheard, we die. Our individual humanity dies. Knowledge of our existence dies. Eventually, we literally die. All our thoughts and experiences become worm food. We're gone. You lost us. Sometimes, someone with a little more clout will find our work in a U-Store-It and you'll find a piece of us after we're gone, but probably not. Vincent and Emily got lucky - if you wanna call that lucky.

And "successful [emphasis mine] creative people"? Did you just create something? You like it like that? You done? Well, there, you succeeded, you're successful. Creation is about more than just the work itself, though, I'm with you there. Successful creative people have their work seen, and they have enough resources to live, recharge, and keep creating. Everything else that this broke-ass fake meritocracy heaps on your head is meant to jack up that pedestal to such an extent that it looks utterly unattainable to someone with their feet on the ground. That keeps them quiet.

And if you're ON the pedestal? Oh, my god, look how far you have to fall. Look at all the pain and sacrifice it took to get you there. Look how desperate and unhappy all those (less talented? less determined? less marketable?) people on the ground are. You worked so hard to earn this, you can't lose it. That keeps you producing. That keeps you profitable.

And when you die, it's cheap to replace you. Hell, they can pay someone to pick up your work right where you left off. There are so many people down there who crave a platform, any platform - and they crab-bucket each other instead of elevating each other, because the path to success they see is so narrow. There's no room for all these lesser beings on the pedestal, they have to weed each other out and compete to be noticed by some larger interest. Maybe the the folks on the pedestals, maybe the corporations that build the pedestals, but someone has to reach down. They can't climb up. They try every day and they can't.

Yeah. A lot of 'em just give up trying to be seen on their own merits. Maybe they reblog, repost and "like" the words of others for a little taste. Maybe they even fold their identities into yours, because you are seen and they can see you. Your words are close enough to what they'd say, if they had any hope of being heard. They put their hands on your pedestal and push it higher. They say, "Go. Go. Go." And some of 'em say, "I want to be like you. Just a little bit like you." And some of 'em are full-on singing "Creep" by Radiohead.

And that's fucking terrifying. Of course you don't want that. You've seen how fast building you up can flip to tearing you down when your voice stops saying the things they want you to say for them, too. So you look down and say, "Please, stop." But, if you didn't have the pedestal, they wouldn't hear you. You need the platform. You can't, you know, climb down and address them individually - there's too many of them.

You wanna know how hard it is to relate to individual human beings from up there? Well, let's say you see the words one of those human beings wrote, words that indicate they have folded their identity into yours to a frightening extent, words that they sent towards you because they thought you might like that. It might seem like a good idea to take those words to the top of your platform, where that person will see them, and lots of others will, too, and then use those words to make your own points. One of which is that these words are wrong and should not be said. (Let me assure you, this would not bother me so much if I hadn't seen it happen with another creator just recently! That is not your fault, OP! It's probably not their fault either! You can't help it!)

And maybe that person is so broken down and invisible that they're reading your words right now and going, "Yeah. That's fair. You can do that. I deserve it. I got seen. Cool." Or maybe they just quiet down and walk away.

It's real hard to rage from within the machine, ya get me? Especially if - even unconsciously - you accept that the machine needs to be there. Like, of COURSE there's a line between creative people and people who are not, and then another line between people who are just creative and the successful ones - that's a real, natural thing that exists. Not everyone has the innate ability. All you folks down there can be okay not being creative or successful, if that's all there is for you, right? Please? Why... Why am I still aspirational?

*sigh* My fellow human being(s), we can see you doing what we all want to do. Most of us don't crave it to that extent - probably even you don't want this much "success" - but we want it a little. We want to make something that has value, and see others value it. And every day we get told that we can't, we're not allowed, we're not good enough, we're just screwing around, if we want to have value we ought to get a real job and create what we're told to - but those folks on the pedestals have A VOCATION. And, yeah, if we happen to notice that one of the avatars of our repressed humanity is actually kind of a scumbag (or, god help you, if it just seems like you might be) we will have vengeance. We will have vengeance for your failure at a task you never wanted, don't deserve, and are trying to repudiate. That's kinda all we can do from down here - push you a little higher or tear you down, and nothing in between. We're not close enough to touch you. You see people above you that you can't touch, but we can't even reach you.

I speak with impunity because I have, like, four individual humans trying to push me up - on a good day. Probably OP (heh, just let me treat you like another Tumblrite) won't even see this, let alone think about it or touch a key that would give a response. I am forever setting off the OH GOD ANOTHER ENTITLED INTERNET LUNATIC alarm, and that shuts down all higher functions. Time Cube Guy says nothing of value, why even bother to be offended? They'll just puke out more nonsense. Yeah. Probably. I feel ya. But I still say my own words. I haven't given up and outsourced all my self-expression. I probably won't quit until I die - quietly - and my shit goes into a U-Store-It. If anyone finds it, I won't be here to elevate, or tear down, or anything.

But I didn't want the pedestal, either. I've been trying to be seen without one... Yeah, that ain't happening. Not sure what to do about that. Not sure I want to be seen at all, under the circumstances. Still, I remain a human being, no idol. (I don't think, my few readers?) I don’t have to beg to be put down.

...in one tiny way, I am more successful than a legit creator. My fellow crab-bucket survivors, if you should ever see this, is it like that for you too?

And, OP... I understand that this was with the noblest intent... But be real careful trying to pick stray animals out of the trash. You know we bite.

Please Don't Idolize Me (or Anyone, Really)

In the wake of the various recent allegations involving Neil Gaiman, people have been both very sad that someone who they looked up to as an inspiration has, allegedly, turned out to be something less than entirely admirable, and are now looking to see who is now left that they can rotate into the spot of “the good dude,” i.e., that one successful creative guy who they think or at least hope…

[happy74827]

One Call Away

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: During one of his "jobs," Deadpool gets a call from his favorite gal [GIF Creds: jdsheart]

WC: 1970

Category: Fluff, Major Comedy {TW: Deadpool’s Humor/Nonfiltered Personality}

This man is so hard to write. I’m always stressing the noggin when it comes to planning and plotting 😔

『••✎••』

"And away we go..."

One neck crack and a couple of hip twists later, he was off like Aladdin and his fucktoy carpet, scaling the building similarly to a chameleon on LSD.

The only thing that was missing was some epic music.

He'd been chasing this baddie around the city for almost two days now. Some big-shot mob boss with ties to Hydra, or the Mafia, or the Yakuza, or some other three-letter-acronym organization. It was hard to keep track of them all at this point. They were all the same, except for the name.

They all had their own agenda.

Kill him, keep him prisoner, pay him off...

Wade never cared enough to listen because it was always the same. He just got hired to do the dirty work, and the pay was good.

The killing was better.

This one, however, was particularly good at eluding him. He'd been trying to get his hands on this man for a few days now. It wasn't as though he was trying to be stealthy or anything, either. He'd walked right up to his front door, knocked, and was greeted with a spray of machine gun bullets.

So, the usual.

But then the guy ran and didn't stop. It was like the fucking Roadrunner met Sonic the Hedgehog, and they decided to fuck around and find out.

Wade was getting real sick and tired of being a Roadrunner, too. He had a reputation to uphold. He wasn't known as the Merc with the Mouth for nothing. He was supposed to be the one doing the running and the killing.

Not the other way around.

Finally, finally, he managed to reach the roof where the guy was currently taking cover behind a small brick shack. The sun was rising, but it was still dark, and there were a couple of floodlights shining on the rooftop. It made him think of the night he'd had that heart-to-heart with Blind Al, even though all she really wanted was for him to bring her some of that special brownie mix.

What a night that had been.

But anyway, this monologue is starting to get too long, and we should probably move things along, eh?

Right.

So, the baddie.

His name was something long and non-English.

Salvatore, or Santino, or Salvation... Whatever the fuck it was, it didn't really matter. What mattered was that it was time to make him dead.

He stepped around the corner and was met with a spray of bullets, all of which lodged themselves into his Kevlar vest.

"Oh, come on!" he yelled over the sound of the gunfire. "This is real leather, you know. I'm tired of all the offscreen sewing and shit."

When the spray finally ended, he took a moment to catch his breath.

"…ow," he whispered to himself.

"You shouldn't have followed me here," the man said.

"Yeah, whatever," Deadpool replied. "Look, I'll make this easy for you. You drop down and give me fifty, and I'll let you keep that hideous mustache you're sporting."

The man's eyes widened in surprise.

"It's not that bad, is it?"

"Yes, yes it is," Deadpool assured him. "You got a squirrel living in it or something?"

"It's just a little bit of gray, you dick," the man argued. "What about you? What's with the mask? Are you hiding a mustache under there, too, or something? Maybe some acne scars?"

Deadpool shook his head and stepped forward, his guns drawn.

"Don't come any closer!"

"You know, this would be much more intimidating if you didn't look like a cartoon mouse."

"Stop it with the mustache!"

"Alright, alright," Deadpool said. "Enough with the mustache. But what is it about your hairline? I can't put my finger on it."

The man sighed in exasperation and pulled out his pistol, aiming it right at Deadpool's face.

"Hey now, don't point that at me," Deadpool scolded him. "That's not a very nice thing to do."

He ignored him and pulled the trigger, a loud boom ringing out as the bullet fired. It whizzed by him but missed its mark.

"You really are a dick," He grumbled before aiming his gun right between the man's eyes. And he was going to shoot, honest.

He really was.

But then his phone rang, and he was well-reminded of the current song playing through his head.

I'm a buff baby that can dance like a man. I can shake-ah my fanny, I can shake-ah my can!

Needless to say, he was distracted.

He lowered his gun and looked down at his pocket, where his phone was still ringing and still vibrating against his leg.

"Shit, hold that thought," He said to the guy, and he holstered his gun.

"Wh-what the hell are you doing?!"

Deadpool put his finger up to shush him before pulling his phone out of his pocket to answer it.

If you're an evil witch, I’ll punch you for fu—

"Heyyyy," he said in a sing-songy voice, "you've reached the phone sex hotline. For kinks and fetishes, press one. For booty calls, press two. For your favorite mercenary, press three."

"Ey, pendejo—" His opponent started, but he cut him off by snapping and raising his finger.

"Cut it, Tuco Salamanca. Breaking Bad called and wants its meth-cooking mustache back."

"Wha-I-you-"

"Anyways, this is your favorite merc speaking. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

"Is this a bad time?"

Wade's eyes widened in shock, and his jaw dropped open when he heard her voice on the other end of the line.

"Baby girl! Is that you? Oh, how I've missed your voice. It's like hearing an angel, or an angelic chorus, or a whole bunch of angels, but you're the most important one. Like, the lead singer or something."

"I literally saw you last night." Your voice was always drenched with the most amazing kind of sarcasm, and he'd missed it.

"And?"

"It's only been a few hours."

"And?"

"That's a short amount of time."

"And?"

You sighed, but he knew you weren't really annoyed.

"Anyways, you sounded busy," you continued, "so I'll just let you go."

"What?! No! Don't hang up!" He shouted into the receiver. "I've only fiddled with my pistols! Nothing interesting is happening right now!"

"Your pistols, huh?" You asked a hint of mischief in your voice.

"Well, yeah. They're the most important part of the mission, you know."

In the corner of his eye, he could see his target making his way towards the edge of the building. Quickly and efficiently, without dropping his attention from his conversation with you, he lifted his gun and fired a shot at the man's knee.

"Ah, fuck!" the man screamed in pain. "My knee!"

"Hey! Language!" Deadpool scolded him. "The lady of the house is listening!"

"Lady of the- what the fuck?!"

"I said language, you mustachioed rat!"

"Mustachioed rat?" You asked.

"Sorry, babe," he replied. "You know how excited I get when Downtown Abbey is on."

“There’s gunshots in Downtown Abbey?"

"Gunshots? Oh, no, no. That was… uh, a car alarm. Yeah, the neighbor's car alarm was going off."

"Uh-huh," you said, not sounding very convinced. And, of course, that was right around the time the guy's gun went off again, this time hitting him square in the shoulder. It made the phone fall out of his hand and clatter onto the ground, but the call was still connected.

"Dammit!" He yelled, looking at the fresh blood dripping down his arm. "That's gonna take forever to heal!"

"Who are you talking to?" The man demanded, his gun still aimed at Deadpool's face. "You're working with someone?"

"Hey, now, I don't remember giving you permission to talk," Deadpool told him, holding his bloody arm up to his face. "Look, I've gotta call you back, babe. I know it's been so heartbreakingly long—"

"Again, only a few hours," you said.

"—but duty calls. Love you, bye."

"Love you, bye."

With that, the line disconnected.

"Ugh," he groaned, his heart aching for the loss of your sweet voice. "I miss her already."

"Ey," his opponent growled, drawing his attention. He started speaking in rapid-fire Spanish, which Deadpool didn't really understand, but he didn't have to. The guy was just ranting and raving.

"Alright, alright, chill," Deadpool said. "Just calm down. It’ll all be over soon, little buddy."

"I am not little! I am a giant!" The guy protested, and Wade could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. "And I will not chill!"

"Well, can't argue with that, I guess," Deadpool said with a shrug, and he took aim. But before he could pull the trigger, the guy was running again.

"Hey, what did I tell you about running?!" He yelled, but his voice fell on deaf ears as the guy reached the ledge.

"I am a giant!"

"No, you're a giant asshat!"

"I will not be bested by some masked buffoon!"

"Buff? Me? Why, I never!"

"You're the biggest asshole I've ever met!"

"You know what? I am a big ass! A big, round, bubbly ass." He paused for a second. "Hey, what's your favorite flavor?"

"Fuck you, you red-clad imbecile!"

"You know, I'd ask you out to dinner first, but we're kinda past that now."

"Argh!"

"Alright, enough stalling," Deadpool said. "It's time to end this."

"Yes," the guy said, turning his gun back on Deadpool. "It is."

Of course, Deadpool being the smart-ass he was, he'd already taken a step to the side. As the bullet whizzed past him, he reached for his gun.

"Now, where did I put that thing? Oh, there it is."

He aimed the gun and fired, and the man fell back onto the ground. The bullet hit him right in the middle of his forehead, his blood splattering all over the concrete.

"Ha ha! Fatality. Deadpool wins!" He said, his voice taking on the deep, grounded tone of the narrator from Mortal Kombat. "Flawless Victory."

He stood over the body for a few seconds, reveling in his victory, before he felt the presence of another.

The gun on his right side got ripped from its holster, and the barrel was aimed back into his face, as it always seems to be.

But, he already sensed it was coming, so his fingers wrapped around his other and aimed that right in the golden spot… and let’s just say, The Golden Girls was a little less golden and a lot more crimson.

"Wow, this has got to be a record," He said as he bent down to stare at the new one’s anguish. "Two dead ugly mustaches in the same day. You can call me Sweeney Todd because shit… I just shaved you the fuck up."

He didn’t give the poor bastard a chance to even whimper before he fired another two shots into the man's head. All in all, this had been the easiest payday he'd had in a while.

He picked up his cell phone and slipped it back into its pocket before bending down and scooping up the mustache man's pistol.

"Ooh, lookie here, a nice, shiny new pistol," he said to himself. "Just what I've always wanted. Well, I don't actually need it. It's not like I have any other holes in my body, but you know what they say. The more the merrier."

He stuffed the gun in his holster and turned around, heading back the way he'd come.

"Time to get back to the good stuff," he said. "I have a date with my favorite girl."

He hopped up onto the ledge and looked down, his eyes locking on the window to his apartment.

And when he arrived, bloody and battered, you could only smile while holding up little ole Mary Puppins in all her drooling glory.

God, how he missed his girls.

[katskitoshi]

I'M BEGGING FOR THE INAZUMA VERSION OF A FAVOR WITH A FAVOR 😭

"FAVOR FOR A FAVOR," with GENSHIN IMPACT.

synopsis: he helps you with something and it's only fair you pay him back, right? (mondstadt vers.) (liyue vers.)

characters (part one): dom! ayato, (modern au!)thoma, gorou, itto x gn! sub! reader

includes: massages, perverted behaviors, handjobs, blowjobs, face fucking, masturbation mentions, stuck in a washing machine, cumming outside, cumming inside, outdoor sex, marking, facials, knots.

note: can you guys tell i'm just winging it with these characters? haha, its been a while since i've played inazuma and i’m confident to say i don't think i've characterized them too well. please forgive me if they're too out of character. ^.^

ayato, the pillar of fortitude: a happy ending.

during your stay in inazuma, ayato is insistent on allowing you to stay at the kamisato residence and partake in many cultural and ceremonial events without spending a single mora from your pocket. even though he insists that you don't need to repay him, you're awfully insistent on returning the favor tenfold.

--it started as a massage. your hands had ran along his muscly back, arms, shoulders, and eventually his legs. you massaged his calves and thighs, aiming to get more and more stress out from his tense muscles. you drank is his soft gasps and little praises like a fine wine as your eyes continuously wandered upwards to his groin, covered my only a thin cloth.

your hands had stopped massaging and began to simply slide up and down his thighs as you imagined your hands on his cock instead. what would it look like? it was certainly big, for one thing. you doubted he was hard, but you could see the slight imprint of the appendage against the loin cloth he wore. would it be veiny, like his hands?

maybe he used a toy, or humped a pillow, though you didn't strike him as the type. what did he think about when he wrapped his hands around it? was it a person, a past fling, a future fantasy? what if he was thinking about you? what positions would he put you in? would he let you ride him? would he bend you over his work desk? maybe he'd fuck you right against the walls while one of his loyal servants was just outside the door. would he let you sit in front of him as he jerked off, making you watch and not touch him or yourself?

fuck, your thighs instinctively clenched together as you reached for his clothed cock subconsciously. you're snapped out of it as a veiny hand grabs your reaching wrist. "and what do you think you're doing?" ayato asks with a warm, yet condescending tone. you look up at him in shock, but desperation in your eyes. "i- nothing, my lord. please forgive me." you bow your head, but you don't feel any remorse. you want to see it, you want to feel it in your palm. warm, throbbing, and leaking over your fingers.

"it didn't look like 'nothing' to me, darling." through his bangs, his cold eyes look at the crown of your head and he smiles. you meet his frozen gaze with a gasp of surprise as you feel your hand touch his cock over the cloth. you look up at him, your own eyes clouded with lust and desperation, and he chuckles.

"isn't this what you wanted? to feel me?" he uses his hold on yoru wrist to guide yoru hand over the phallus, nearly fully erect. just feeling it, even with a piece of cloth separating the two of you makes your thighs clench even more, and your mouth open in a breathless whimper. "i know you want to repay your favor, so how about you do it this way, hm? i could really use a massage somewhere else,"

his hand no longer holds your wrist, and you jump at the chance you're given to remove the cloth. when you see it, a glob of drool escapes your lips. you could cum just from the sight. it was slightly darker than the rest of his body, with the cutest blushing tip, and to your predictions, it was veiny. there was a prominent one along the underside that wrapped around to top at it's head. and he was leaking. a milky-clear drop of precum slipped down his shaft, and you wanted nothing more than to lap at it until you were given the real thing.

"what are you waiting for? i give you full permission to quench your desires." you don't waste a second. as much as you wish to admire the beauty of his cock, you're desperate to have it an your hands and eventually in your mouth. your right hand stays near the base while your left focuses on the head. you slowly drag your hand up and down, relishing in the feeling of it in your hand. warm and thick, but you don't waste time. you wanted him warm, throbbing, and leaking in your hand and now you have him like that.

using your fingers to glide over the tip, collecting precum and spreading it along the remainder of his cock, you begin pumping at a steady pace. you focus on the monster in your hands and ayato focuses on the devout look on your face and expressed through your body. heaving chest, clenched thighs, shortness of breath. you were a mess, and he loved it.

you spit on your palm and used it as extra lubrication to move faster. you leaned your face in closer to it and give it multiple kisses along it's length, and a one on the tip before licking a drop of precum from it's opening. fuck, it tasted good too. you continued to lick at the tip and ayato's hand found its way in your hair, urging you to take more.

you looked up at him with lidded, lustful eyes, keeping eye contact as you placed the tip of his cock in your mouth. he bucked his hips slightly, his thighs clenching and his head being thrown back as you began suckling on the tip. "good, good, fuck! you're so good," he moaned, "you can take a bit more, yeah? course you can, you're my good darling."

you take more into your mouth, drinking up his groans of satisfaction and words of praise like his precum. what you don't fit in your mouth is jerked off by your left hand, while your right hand holds his balls in your hand, slightly fondling them. your tongue drags against the underside of his lock, running along the vein and taking in the taste of him. "ha, ha, ha, oh fuck!" he throws his head back, the arm not on your head being thrown over his face. he was loud, and he didn't give a single fuck.

at the last second, you pull off his cock and jerk it really fast. his eyes roll to the back of his head as ropes of white cum paint itself on your face. some land on your face, others on your tongue, and some end up on yoru clothing. you don't mind, you scoop up the cum, where ever it lands, and place it into your mouth. you swallow audibly, opening your mouth to show ayato you swallowed every drop you got in your mouth.

he pants with a flushed expression as he looks at you. "you're so fucking slutty," he tips your face up at him, using his thump to wipe some cum off your cheek and place it in your mouth as he grips your chin, "and i fucking love it." he grabs you by your neck, pulling you to straddle his lap, his cock rubbing against your aroused groin. he kisses your neck then whispers in your ears, "fuck, i'm gonna give you your own little happy ending, alright?"

thoma, protecter from afar: washing machine heart.

for all the favors he's done for you, you feel like you owe him your life! but he's too humble for that. however, he won't pass up on an opportunity to finally relieve himself of stress when you give him permission to use you after you get stuck in a washing machine.

he feels like the world's biggest pervert. taking the chance the opportunity you offered him to fuck his coworker while you're stuck in a washing machine?! it feels like something straight out of a porno he'll find himself watching in the late ours of the night while beating his cock. yet, you feel so much better than his fist and he thinks he might just be addicted.

"ah~! you're too good! s-so wet and tight and, nghh!"

he moans, and the echo of the inside of the machine reverberates the sounds of your own as thoma's cock reaches each sensitive spot inside of you. his hands grip onto your hips as pushes himself deeper inside your walls.

"wish i could see your face so bad. bet you look so cute gettin fucked and i can't even see it."

he says through clenched teeth. evident by the way he seems to fuck you with more urgency.

"'ts not fair. s'not fair," he whines, "too good. you're too good 'nd i can't even see your face. w-we'll just have to do this another time, right baby? so we can see each other faces and i can make sure you get pampered like the perfection you are."

"okay, thoma. we can do it again. i promsie."

at your words, thoma begins to hump you even faster, you can feel water drip on your lower back. were they tears or drool from the pent of pervert behind you?

thoma dips his hand below you to play with your sex, and with a few more thrusts, you cum around his cock, an he pulls out just in time to paint you ass and lower back white. he pants, admiring the sight for a few seconds before helping you out of the machine you were stuck in.

"why didn't you cum inside?"

he kisses you before gently pulling away.

"i promise i will one day soon. when we can really feel each other and i can give you the proper foreplay and worship you deserve. wanted the first time i cum inside of you to be when i look you in your eyes. "

gorou, canine warrior: promises kept.

gorou is a busy hybrid, so he isn't left with much time to relieve himself. after taking time out of his especially busy schedule to help you with a mundane task, you feel the need to repay him. you catch him jerking off and think of the perfect way to repay the favor.

--"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck~! you're too good to me, puppy!" the canine hybrid moans as he pushes your head further down his cock. his hips are swift and unstopping as drool escapes from your lips and your hand shoots between your thighs to play with your aroused sex.

how was the little shiba inu general of watatsumi able to fuck like a full grown wolf?

the roll of his hips slowed as the hybrid watches your eyes roll back. he only lets out a short breath before gently bringing one of his hands to your forehead and wiping a bead of sweat from your brow. your eyes connect with his as he licks the sweat off his thumb with a low growl.

"you're too sweet, can't promise i won't just sink my teeth in and never let go, ah-"

he's cut off my a small whimper as your purposefully rub your tounge along the underside of his cock, looking up at his with playful eyes that make his tail swish like never before. his head rolls back as his hips begin to move again. this time, slower, but focusing on hitting deeper against the back of your throat.

"nghhhh, i love you so much. you're too good to me, way too fucking good. m'gonna stuff your little hole full as soon as m'done marking my territory all over this pretty little face of yours. not gonna stop until one of us are limp from pleasure, pup."

gorou's hips focus on both speed and precision now, clearly chasing his own high through your throat. his head is thrown back as little whimpers and moans escape his lips. he mutters small promises of marking you and making sure you're filled to brim. ones you know he has no intentions of breaking.

especially when his thrust pick up speed for a few pumps then he abruptly pulls you off his cock to have rope after rope of creamy cum to paint your face and chest. his balls clench as he pumps the last load right onto your awaiting face. your hands speed up two, and you find yourseld cumming at the same time as him.

gorou feels himself harden up again just seeing your fucked out expression. from pure arousal, from the high of your orgasm, and from the face fucking you just received. his hand cups your cheek, and he kisses you gently. its a complete opposite from the treatment he just gave you.

the kisses get deeper and deeper until your hands are tangled in his hair and his are on your waist. he licks a stripe down to your nape, his sharp teeth grazing the tender flesh before he sinks them in, you let out a moan of surprise, and he leaves a few more marks across your neck.

he pulls from your neck and hovers himself over you, suddenly flipping you so you're flat against the floor. he uses your hips to pull your lower half up and curve you into a nice arch. the hybrid's hands grasp your ass, fondling the cheeks a bit before he takes a bite, leaving a hickey.

"promised i would mark you 'nd i did, didn't i? now i just gotta fill you up till one of us passes out from exhaustion."

gorou leans over your back, to whisper in your ear as he lines up his cock with your hole.

"and i promise it won't be me."

itto, the one and oni: take me before you join me.

you had challenged one of his gang members to try to become a member of his gang. and right before the fight can actually start, you realize you're severely outmatched. luckily, the gang's leader saves you before you can get your ass handed to you. you thank him, and the only thing he wants in return for saving your ass is a piece of it.

"come on baby, you've almost got me! just a few more inches to go!" he playfully taunts, watching as you practically try to crawl away from the huge cock that penetrated your hole. you let out breathless moans as your insides tried to suck in the phallus. your body was already giving in, but a small part of your rational mind knew that he was too big to handle.

you look over your shoulder at him, face warm and flushed with tears. behind your eyes, he can see you're already losing to the pleasure you're getting from him. and yet, you still try to grip onto the stone walls of the building he fucks you against and crawl away.

"its so cute! yer body's already giving into me yet yer still insisting on this song and dance that i'm too big to take."

he punctuates his words with a thrust, getting at least another inch inside. you let out a pathetically loud moan and quickly cover your mouth in shame. more moans leave you as itto's hand slaps your ass and pulls you further back to meet his pelvis. "sh-shit! you're so damn tight and soooo loud. not that i mind, but are you trying to let the whole damn city know you're getting plowed by the arataki itto?"

finally, the oni has your ass firm against his pelvis. nearly every single inch of his cock inside of your warm walls, and they clench deliciously around him. you can tell by the satisfied growl then repeated smacking of you ass. ugh, it would be so sore tomorrow. but you can't even think about it before itto starts a harsh pace.

rythmatic moans escape you. instead of attempting to crawl away from his cock, you grip the stone to stabilize yourself. you even began pushing back against him, attempting to meet him halfway, but he was too fast for you to match his quick thrusts.

"ah, shit! ittoooo~!" you pants, tears falling down yoru cheek in pure pleasure. when his hand wraps around your waist to not only support you from below, but to play with yoru sex, you cum on the spot, wailing his name like its the only word you know.

the oni only laughs, his pace unrelenting as he works you through your high while chasing his own. by the way he suddenly gets faster with the rolls of his hips, you can say that he's getting closer and closer.

"you knew you were outmatched by that small fry in a fight yet you still decided to fuck the big guy, huh?"

he movies his hand from your sex and grips your neck, turning your head to face him. as you look at him over your shoulder, you can see the evil smirk on his face.

"but theres something you still havent accounted for, baby."

and suddenly, you feel it. you feel him. your mouth opens in a breathless gasp as yoru eyes roll to the back of your head. his knot, at least the size of your fist, gets thrusted in the entrance of your hole, and you cum a second time in sync with the oni.

ropes of warm white liquid fill your walls and you drool in satisfaction. even with the knot plugging your entrance, steaks of cum still drip from yoru hole around it. you can barely see it, but itto breifly pouts at the sight of his load being wasted.

you pant out his name, but theres no answer. that is until you hiss at the feeling of your ass being slapped again.

"can't believe you thought you could be one of us when yer so weak.." he whispered.

"you're not joining my gang till you take my cock and knot without spilling even a drop of my cum. and since the great arataki ittos so nice, i'll give you a second chance right now."

(mondstadt vers.) (liyue vers.)

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

David Tennant and Michael Sheen at the Pub In The Park All Star Charity Gala 2024, 28.6.2024 :) ❤ (x)

Int: More than us, weren't they? Did you enjoy that Chiswick?! Brilliant.

Michael: What a night! What a night!

David: Oh, come on, Chiswick! Come on!

Michael: Hello, Chiswick!

Int: So, hello, boys. How you doing?

David: Hello. Hello. Very nice, very nice.

Int: Would you like to introduce yourselves to the crowd?

David: My name is Michael Sheen.

Michael: And my name is David Tennant!

Int: How many tequilas have I had? I'm really confused right now. Are you having a good time?

Michael: Yes!

David: The best!

Michael: I've had a spicy margarita and I'm of anyone's! Well, we don't rush. Don't rush everyone.

David: I'm so cool. I'm still wearing sunglasses at 9 o'clock at night.

Int: This has been noticed.

David: But because it's Chiswick and I am 53, they are prescription.

Int: You are not the only one here with prescription sunglasses

David: Means I can't take them off, that's the problem as the light falls.

Int: It adds a certain aloofness to the equation.

Michael: It gives him an exotic allure.

David: It does.

Michael: I've always said it.

David: It does. That's what the smell is.

Int: Why does everything sound better in your accent, Michael?

Michael: Exotic allure.

Int: Ooooh. Don't stop. Anyway, I digress. Right, so we are here appreciating everything about Pub In The Park. And are we enjoying it?

Crowd: Yeeeees!

Int: Yes. But tonight is very, very special because not only do we have all our usual wonderful restaurants, all of our lovely stages, all the bars, all the trees and the views and the Chiswick house, but we are also celebrating a charity. We are celebrating a wonderful gala evening this evening. So please, boys, tell us what it's all about.

David: It's from Multibank.

Michael: Yes!

David: Come on! There's a terrible... there's an awful amount of need in the country at the moment. We understand the need for food banks. Multibank is a food bank, but it's also fighting hygiene poverty. It's also providing people who don't have the stuff they need just to get through the day. Toothpaste and toilet rolls and all the stuff that we take for granted. There's a desperate need. Multibank is about providing families who don't have it with some of the... with the stuff that they need to go through life. And by buying a ticket tonight, you've already given at least ten pounds. So thank you, thank you, thank you.

Michael: Thank you!

David: If you'd like to give a bit more, we're not gonna stop you.

Michael: Don't. Don't do it!

David and Michael over each other: No, no. Don't do it. No, no, no. We're not good. We're not. Do it, do it. We're not gonna. Do it.

David: We're not gonna stop you. As you leave tonight, there'll be people with those little fancy machines.

Int: PDQs.

David: Whaat?

Michael: People be doing what?

David: Those little machines.

Michael: When you leave tonight, there'll be people doing that?

David: There'll be people doing that. But in this hand, they'll have a card machine. So we're doing that with this hand. And in this hand, you can tap and go. And you can give multibank another little bit as you leave. Once you're nice and drunk and you're not thinking about it, give them lots of money as you leave.

Michael: Yes.

Int: Absolutely.

Michael: But thank you for everything you've given so far!

David: Absolutely.

Michael: It's already been a massivelysuccessful evening, so thank you.

David: Yeah.

Int: Yes. We really appreciate it. And I know the aim is to raise 40,000 pounds this evening.

David: I think we've already done that. Let's make it 50.

All: Yass!

Int: We love that. And I'll tell you how we could even make that happen. Is that in your heads, every tune is played from now on that you like. Imagine that's about what? Tenner. So every tune you like from our next DJ, who's going to come on in a second. If you like the song, then in your head, you need to calculate that's a tenner each time to give to multibank. And I'm looking at you. And I'm looking at you, Rob, as well.Is that fair enough?

David and Michael: Yes.

Int: Yes, exactly.

David: If you want to see Michael Sheen DJ.

Int: Get over there. So, in that case, I think your DJ assistant is ready to accept you, Michael.

Michael: I'm going to hand you over to my trusty assistant on the decks, straight from Ibiza.

Int: Yes. Everybody, please go mad for the tunes of Vernon Kay!

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 23 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is hoping a new role with the Navy will give him the opportunity to spend more time at home with his family. You offer up the ultimate gift for his birthday. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, lactation kink, body image, oral sex, mentions anal, DILF Roo

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"What should we do for Daddy's birthday?" you asked your daughter while she nursed. Bradley was working late again. If he didn't actually get this new position at Top Gun when the time arrived, you weren't sure how he was going to take it. He was working so hard right now to try to cut his deployments down by training younger recruits to fly missions instead of actually flying all of them himself. He wanted to be home more, and you wanted him to spend as much time with Rose as he could.

In the meantime, he always felt like a ticking time bomb. Like at any moment he would be taken away again. His most recent special mission ended months ago while you were still pregnant, and it felt surreal at times that he hadn't been called away again.

"We'll do something special," you whispered to Rose. "Daddy always makes my birthday special. He'll always make yours special, too."

Her eyes were bright and alert as she released herself from your breast to yawn while you ran the pad of your thumb gently along her cheek. She had the softest skin and most adorable features. She was going to look just like Bradley, you could already tell. And you had to agree with him when he said he thought she was whip-smart. She always looked around for Tramp and seemed to point to him when she wanted to be licked.

"You're absolutely perfect," you told her, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. Rose's yawns were coming more frequently as you changed her diaper and placed her in her crib. "I'll send Daddy in to say goodnight when he gets home," you promised. Once her sound machine was playing a lullaby, you crept out of the nursery and went to clean up the meager dinner you made for yourself.

Looking in the mirror was still currently your least favorite activity. You were tired, and it was reflected on your face. Your body still seemed to belong to Rose, and you felt a little helpless by the width of your hips and the size of your butt. Your belly was riddled with stretch marks, and every time Bradley saw you in any manner of undress, you couldn't understand how he could get turned on. When you and he had sex, it was almost like he tricked you into believing he was excited to be with you.

The front door shut and you jumped, spinning on the spot to see your husband heading your way. "What a fucking day," he groaned, boots squeaking on the floor. He was still in his flight suit, messy hair threaded with a bit of gray. "I didn't think I would be this late."

He didn't stop until you were wrapped up in his arms. "Why are you still in your boots and flight suit?"

"Wanted to get home faster," he murmured. "I missed you."

The way he ran his big hand down the middle of your back and gave your butt a little squeeze while he kissed you left you breathless. Then he knocked the air clean out of your lungs as he nibbled gently on your lips before whispering, "I'm late for my husband and daddy duties. Is the Nugget already asleep?"

"I think so," you told him, melting into his touch. He was already the best dad in the world for Rose, and his hands up the back of his ratty UVA shirt that you were wearing reminded you how good he was at those husband duties, too. "She seemed tired after I fed her."

Bradley's brown eyes flicked down toward your chest as his stomach growled.

"I can feed you, too," you said with a laugh. "All I had for dinner was some toast and jelly, but I can make you something else."

You didn't even mention the part where you were trying to cut calories so you could lose weight, because he was looking at you like he always did. And his hands were warm on your skin like they always were.

"Don't worry about me. I'll get something after I give Rose a good night kiss and we take a shower together."

You raised one eyebrow. "We're taking a shower together?"

He nodded slowly. "We are, Baby Girl. I'm so worn out, it's probably the only thing that's going to make me feel better." 

His right hand strayed to your breast, and your lips parted on a soft sound as his rough fingers found your nipple beneath the shirt. You forgot to feel self conscious as you let your hands slide up his chest until your arms were draped over his shoulders. Your lips were on his like a magnet, and you whimpered at the feel of his rough mustache. Then his tongue was in your mouth, and you were ready to climb him like a tree.

Somehow, you worked him up. It didn't make any sense. He was literally touching your stretch marks now as he rutted against you and grunted your name. "Oh, fuck," he said between kisses. You felt overstimulated, and your breasts were leaking onto your shirt, but it just made his cock harder. "Go get in the shower? I need to take a little peek at Rose, and then I'll be in to do absolutely anything you want. Anything." He started to pull your shirt over your head. "Just let me taste you."

"Jesus Christ, Roo," you moaned, pushing him away. "Hurry up. I'll be in the bathroom."

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

Bradley ducked his head inside the baby's nursery. Her music was playing softly, and she was clearly sound asleep in her crib with Tramp snoozing on the floor. He had to take a few deep breaths when he heard the shower turn on across the hallway, and he ran his hand over his face.

"Rosie, I'll be back in a little bit to check on you, okay?" he whispered. "I need Mommy for a few minutes."

He was already unzipping his flight suit and wrenching it down his arms as he walked through the bedroom and into the bathroom. It smelled like your body wash, and he could practically taste your breast milk as he watched you climb in the shower. He was tired, like actually exhausted. There was so much to learn from Maverick and the admirals. There was paperwork and guidelines and things to memorize. There was so much more going on behind the scenes than he realized, and it took all of his focus to keep up. But he wanted a job where he'd be home more and on a carrier less. That way he could see your silhouette through the foggy glass shower door every night.

"Sweetheart." His voice was deep and needy, and you turned to face him.

"What was fast." Your voice echoed beautifully in the enclosed space as he bent to undo his boot laces. 

"I'll sneak back in later to see Rose," he rasped, climbing in and closing the door behind him. "I can't wait another minute for you."

He was serious, but you looked a little hesitant and maybe unconvinced as you stood with your back against the tile wall, water hitting your legs and feet. You were rounder in places now, and your body felt like heaven in the palms of his hand. When he considered whether or not an obnoxiously long, hard day of work was worth it, all he had to do was look at your face or hear your voice, and he was convinced it was. But getting to have you like this? It didn't even seem fair.

"My god, you are absolutely fucking perfect."

Maybe you were going to say something to him as you parted your lips, but he leaned in to kiss you before you could. Your warmth and your fingers in his hair could fix any problem he had, he was certain. And he always wanted to be that way for you, too. He wanted to be the reason you knew you had something better to look forward to at the end of the day.

"Bradley," you whined when his cock pressed against your soft belly. Your fingers made their way down to his biceps, and your thumb traced his new tattoo as you looked up at him with wide eyes.

The level of intimacy he felt with you was unparalleled, whether it was sex or just being around you. But he couldn't help but want everything right now when your milk was beading up on your nipples and sliding down the undersides of your tits.

"Will you let me taste you?"

The feral noise you made had him bending slightly to get his mouth on you. None of this should be wasted right now. It was too sweet. You were too fucking warm. Even the steamy air and the water hitting his calves couldn't compete with your breasts. He got down on his knees for better access.

"I'm not going to lie, Roo," you whispered, pushing his hair back from his forehead, "watching you do that is so hot."

He looked up at you as he ran his tongue lazily back and forth. "Watching you do anything is hot, Sweetheart." You whimpered, and he could feel you squeeze your thighs together. "Just be patient. I'll take care of it. I just can't let this go to waste."

You grabbed at his hair and his shoulders as he licked and sucked you dry. Your nipples were furled tight, no longer dripping with that beautiful milk before he stopped. Every time you made a noise, you were rubbing your pussy against him, and Bradley knew he made you wait long enough. 

His cock was aching as he sat down and ran his nose along the length of your slit, coaxing your thighs apart with the softest touch. You didn't disappoint, letting him see and smell and taste you to his heart's content. He sucked on your clit before moving his lips to your rooster tattoo, smiling as you moaned impatiently while he kissed you there.

"Please, Bradley." Your voice took on a tone of overstimulation, nipples still tight peaks as you wiggled your hips. "I need it."

He let you have his mouth all over your pussy. Every soaking wet, silky inch if you. He worked his tongue in circles just how he knew you liked it, and he listened to every cue you gave him with your voice. The louder you got, the harder he sucked until your legs shook. Then he backed off and enjoyed the keening sound of your orgasm as you rode his face.

"Please," he begged softly, getting to his feet while you were still coming for him. But you nodded and turned to face the wall, letting him fuck you from behind with both of his hands planted on the tiles. "Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, Sweetheart!"

Barely a dozen good thrusts, and he came as he watched you kiss his hand. He was out of breath and yet still over excited as he nuzzled your neck. "My wife is actually perfect," he whispered.

Even cleaning you up was fun. Every time he ran his hand between your legs, your eyes fluttered closed, and you bit your lip. Then you washed his hair which always turned him into an even bigger mess for you. By the time you turned off the water, he was so sated and still needy for your attention, he followed you everywhere.

Bradley watched you get changed into pajamas before pulling you into bed with him. "I still need to make you dinner," you whispered as he peppered your nose with kisses. 

"I can find something myself," he promised. "It's pretty late, and I want you to get enough sleep. I need to go check on the Nugget anyway." He paused when your stomach growled loudly. "What do you want? I'll make something for both of us."

"I already had dinner."

"You had toast. That's not dinner. What do you want?"

You looked up at him and whispered, "A sandwich."

"Done." He kissed your lips and climbed out of bed, pulling on clean boxer briefs. "Give me a five minute head start so I can kiss Rosie, and I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Bradley had to fight the urge to wake his daughter up just to watch her be adorable while he held her, because he felt like he missed the entire day with her. "Still better than being deployed," he whispered, making Tramp leave the nursery with him. 

He sent the dog out to the backyard as he tried not to worry about when his next mission might come. Then he made two identical sandwiches and opened a bag of potato chips and a can of beer. And then you were there with him again.

"What do you want to do for your birthday on Friday?" you asked, tucking yourself against his body as you reached for one of the sandwiches. "And don't you dare say you want to spend a day with just the three of us and try to bail to get another tattoo."

He kissed your temple and said, "Nothing else is important enough for me to want to get it tattooed besides you and Rosie, so what I'm about to say is the absolute truth. As soon as we get out of work on Friday, all I want to do is spend the evening with my girls."

"Well, I was thinking...." you started, nibbling at your sandwich. "You know how for my birthday, you reserved the lounge where we went to the silent disco? But then I fell at work and kind of killed that plan?"

"How could I forget?" he replied, downing the rest of his beer. "Reenacting our first date is never going to not be fun for me. Music and hot sauce and falling the fuck in love."

You smiled up at him. "What if I call the bar and see if they'll let us have a little silent disco with Rosie on Friday night? To make up for the one we missed?"

Bradley swore his heart skipped a beat. "I would love that, Baby Girl."

"Then I'll try to make it happen."

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

Bradley woke up on Friday morning with your hand wrapped around his cock and your giggling lips next to his ear. "Happy birthday, Roo," you whispered. Your breath was warm and tickled him as he opened his eyes and grunted.

"It's already pretty happy."

He pulled down the covers and watched you jerk him off while your bare breasts were mashed against him. There was a pretty droplet of your milk in his chest hair, and you were telling him all the things you wanted to do to him later. Even when you really gripped him, your fingers didn't quite reach all the way around his cock, and he tucked his arm behind his head to get a better view.

"I was thinking," you whispered, lips brushing his ear, "we could do what we did last year on your birthday. If you want."

Instantly he envisioned the way you let him fuck you in the ass, and he gasped. "Anal?" he asked softly, holding his breath for the answer as you dragged your hand up to the tip of his cock and squeezed.

"Yes."

He instantly came all over himself, white ribbons coating his abs as you kissed his neck. "Fuuuuck," he croaked, already excited for later tonight.

"Damn, Roo. You couldn't even wait until I got my mouth down there?"

He tucked his other arm behind his head as well and watched you kiss your way down his body. "You just promised me your ass, Sweetheart. I don't know what you expected." He went silent again as you ran your tongue around his belly button and started lapping up his cum. You had him on your lips, dragging your tongue through the mess when Rose started crying in her nursery. "Hang on, Nugget! Daddy's enjoying his birthday!"

You smiled up at him and kissed his hip before nudging him toward the edge of the bed. "Go get her ready, and I'll be in shortly."

He leaned down and kissed you before pulling on his underwear and heading to the nursery. He actually loved it when Rose started wailing like this, because he got to enjoy the way she immediately calmed down when he picked her up and gave her a little snuggle.

"You're loud today. Are you saying happy birthday?" he asked, tickling her tummy before changing her wet diaper. She was three months old and absolutely perfect. She could hold her head up on her own, and her eyes seemed to be a slightly different color every day. Bradley was fascinated by his daughter and would have gladly spent the entire day hanging out with her instead of going to work.

He was bouncing her gently in his arms, turning her hunger cries into little giggles when you joined them. "Is she ready for the silent disco tonight?" you asked, settling into the glider chair with your tits on display. He couldn't wait to get you in bed again later, but he was just as excited about going to Del Mar.

"I think so," he crooned, covering his daughter's face in kisses before handing her over so she could eat. "I love you both." Then he kissed her fuzzy hair and your lips before heading back down the hallway to get dressed for work.

Dropping Rose off at the daycare on base every day was still hard, but at least she was with Jeremiah. And Bradley was planning on skipping out early today to take her home and get ready to go out. Not only had you talked the rooftop bar into an hour-long private silent disco, you also made a reservation at the hot sauce restaurant. He was convinced Rose would love both places as much as he did.

As soon as he walked out onto the tarmac, he felt an arm around his shoulders. "Happy birthday, Soul Sister. I can't believe you're forty-eight."

"I'm thirty-eight, Nat."

"Whatever. Still old as fuck."

"I love you, too."

She smirked. "Are you enjoying your new job? All locked away with the admirals up in the tower like you're Rapunzel or something?"

Bradley stopped and swiped a hand along his back. "Did someone tape a sign on me that says It's my birthday, please pick on me?"

"Nah," she replied. "Doesn't need to be your birthday for that. Happy to do it any day of the year."

He followed along at her side again. "I don't actually have a new position yet," he muttered. "I'm just... I don't like being away from them now. It was bad enough before, but I think if someone gave me deployment papers today, I'd probably throw up."

"You're such a dad," his best friend replied, reaching for his hand and giving him a squeeze. "I completely understand why you want to turn into Rapunzel in the tower, Rooster. I probably would as well if I had a daughter. Speaking of, let me know when I can stop by with all the new toys and outfits I got for my goddaughter."

Bradley's imagination drifted to the bedroom activity he was looking forward to later this evening. "Uh, maybe tomorrow or Sunday? Not tonight."

"You got it."

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

The ride to Del Mar was familiar now. Bradley's Motown playlist filled the interior of the blue Bronco along with his voice while he drove and played with your wedding rings. The late June sunlight was bright and warm even as it approached 6:30, and you could tell by how relaxed your husband was that he was having a good day.

"I can't believe you're thirty-eight years old."

He gave you side eye. "Listen, Sweetheart, I've still got all the moves, okay? I was just excited this morning, that's all."

You burst into laughter. "That's not what I meant!"

With a playful glare, he parallel parked in front of the hot sauce restaurant. "I feel like you're contractually obligated to be nice to me today, especially after how much Nat picked on me."

You kissed his cheek and whispered, "I'm letting you have my ass. How much nicer could I possibly get."

"Great. Now I have to get my erection under control," he groaned, killing the engine and letting his head tip back. But he was smiling. "I actually think that makes you the nicest."

Honestly, you were a bit nervous. Last year, he barely thrusted before he came, and it still felt like you were being stretched to your limit. More than anything, you wanted him to still find pleasure in your body, but you didn't want him to hurt you.

As if you'd spoken your thoughts out loud, he whispered in your ear, "I'll make it feel good for you, too." Then he was out on the sidewalk, lifting Rose in her car carrier out of the backseat like the most attentive father in the world. She was wearing a little dress covered in flowers. You were also wearing a dress with your boat shoes. "Just look at my beautiful girls," he crooned, draping his right arm over your shoulders and carrying the car seat like it was nothing.

"I can't wait until she's old enough to enjoy some hot sauce," you mused.

"Her first solid food can be a chili pepper."

You snorted. "Rose, I will not let that happen."

You spent dinner coating your food in a rainbow of different hot sauces while Bradley stole bites of your meal and offered up some of his own. Rose kept trying to reach for the bottles with all of the pretty labels, and you watched her cry until Bradley let her play with a plastic one that was brand new and still sealed up tight. 

"She's your fucking kid, alright. Won't leave the restaurant without some hot sauce," he told you, signaling for the waiter to add it onto the bill at the end of the meal.

"Stop swearing in front of the baby." You were unable to contain your laughter as you added, "She picked out a good one, too. Excellent taste."

Bradley reached for your hand. "Now to determine if she has good taste in music, too."

After stopping back at the Bronco so Bradley could strap Rose in her carrier against his chest, the three of you walked at a leisurely pace along the main street toward the beachfront lounge. When you approached the pier where you spent plenty of time getting to know each other on your first date, Bradley turned so Rose could look at the setting sun.

"You see that long fishing pier, Nugget?" he murmured, smiling at you. "I took Mommy on the best date of her life, and we made out on that pier until I was on the verge of embarrassing myself."

"Accurate," you added immediately. "It was the best date of my life, but there was nothing you could have done to embarrass yourself."

"I beg to differ. I could have told you I loved you. On our first date."

His eyes were sincere. You knew he fell in love with you fast. He'd already told you as much. But hearing him say the words while he had his big hand wrapped around yours and Rose cradled to his chest left you breathless. "When you tell me now that you were already in love with me on our first date, it's just romantic, Roo."

His smile grew, and you thought all about how much had changed in the past three years as you led him toward the lounge which was lit with string lights. You rode the elevator to the rooftop with your head resting on his shoulder, face to face with your sleepy daughter. She had her little fist up next to her face, rubbing her eye.

"She's going to fall asleep, Roo."

"Nah, she'll last for a few songs. I want a picture of her wearing the headphones."

You forgot how pretty the rooftop was with all the lights and the bar. This time, instead of two sets of headphones, you were handed three, and the woman who was working made a fuss over how cute Rose was.

"I swear she looks just like my wife," Bradley said, showing her off proudly.

The other woman smiled and said, "You have an hour before we open to the public for the night. The DJ will start playing as soon as you're ready."

"Perfect," you told her, and then she was gone, and your husband was giving the DJ a thumbs up. You slid your headphones into place and turned them on to the pink channel. Once Bradley had his on, you changed his channel to match yours and laughed when one of his Motown songs came on.

"Yes," he said with a grin, lowering the volume all the way on the third pair before putting them on Rose. They were of course huge, and he had to hold them in place with one hand, but she smiled when she heard the song. "She likes it!"

"Of course she does. She's your daughter," you said over the music.

Bradley's lips landed on yours, and his free hand gently wrapped around the back of your neck. You stayed like that with Rose between you, getting kiss after kiss from your husband as you danced, occasionally changing the channel on your headphones to blue or green.

The DJ seemed to know what Bradley was going to like best, his face lighting up for almost every song like he was delighted to get to hear it. Rose, on the other hand, was asleep after ten minutes with her cheek squished against him. At least you managed to take one selfie of the three of you before her eyes closed, but now she was napping while you danced and lip synced with Bradley until the music came to a stop. The hour was too short. You wanted it to last longer.

Carefully, you removed Rose's headphones and then your own, handing them over on your way back to the elevator. "Time to go home and get your cake and birthday presents," you whispered as you were taken back down to the first level.

His hand settled on your lower back before drifting down a few inches more. His expression was completely serious as he said, "Baby Girl, I thought this cake was my birthday present."

"If you play your cards right, you can have two kinds of cake tonight."

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

Bradley is so ridiculously spoiled. Sweet Rosie already likes hot sauce. BG is struggling so much and can't quite see herself the way her husband does. Stay tuned. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 24

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[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Chris, I suffer of simpinitis and the only cure is you to write for Arlecchino (just a joke don't feel pressured especially if you end up not liking her also good luck if you're pulling for her)

(Genshin Impact) Arlecchino, Lynette, Xianyun, and Barbara's S/O getting scared by a spider

I don't plan on pulling for her because Clorinde is showing up, but FEAR NOT ANON! Quoth the FFXIV:

Arlecchino watches with vague amusement as S/O suddenly leaps back, nearly into her arms.

She catches them with minimal effort as her eyes slowly track tiny movement on the floor.

A spider was skittering across the floor at a slow pace, making her gaze trail back to S/O.

(Arlecchino) "Spiders are not very likely to attack humans without being provoked. And even then, that is under the most dire of circumstances-"

(S/O) "I-I know, but...they're just creepy!"

(Arlecchino) "Indeed."

With a hum of acknowledgement, she almost drops S/O to the ground as they barely caught themselves in time.

Arlecchino walks over to the spider and gently puts it in a cup before releasing it outside.

She crosses her arms as distant memories from her past came trickling in.

(Arlecchino) "You wouldn't have liked Bambi."

(S/O) "Who's that?"

(Arlecchino) "A pet spider that I once owned."

(S/O) Of course you owned one...

They were smart enough to not say that out loud, but Arlecchino had the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.

She probably knew what they were thinking anyway.

Even when she was spacing out, Lynette could easily spot something moving in the corner of her eye.

(Lynette) "Oh, a spider-"

(S/O) "WHAT?!"

S/O immediately balled up onto the couch, head rapidly darting back and forth.

(S/O) "W-WHERE?!"

Lynette's ears twitched from how loud S/O was being, but she easily grabbed the spider in a cup, noting how S/O was inching away from her.

(Lynette) "It's not even a dangerous kind, just a regular-"

(S/O) "I don't care what it is, just throw it out!"

Lynette smiled and gently let it escape out the house.

As she sat back down next to S/O, her tail swished playfully, though Lynette herself was stoic as ever.

(Lynette) "What are you going to do when i'm not here?"

(S/O) "D-Don't tease me!"

Xianyun adjusts her glasses when she sees a spider on the table.

S/O almost dropped their food completely at the sight of it, while Xianyun looked slightly annoyed.

(Xianyun) "How unsightly for a dinner table."

With a small gust of wind, she flicks it away, making S/O leap out their seat.

(S/O) "GAH! D-Don't fling it at me!"

(Xianyun) "One was not aiming at you, dear. Do be careful, otherwise your plate will drop."

S/O took a deep breath of relief while Xianyun continued to eat.

(Xianyun) "Hm...One has an idea for an invention. We could construct you a machine that can take care of household pests like that."

(S/O) "...W-Would you?"

Xianyun suddenly beams with pride, a gleam of light reflecting off her glasses.

(Xianyun) "Fear not, One will make sure you are never bothered by a spider ever again! We will get started straight away after dinner."

What ended up happening was Xianyun constructed a machine that was too good at killing household pests, to the point it broke parts of the wall.

Both Barbara and S/O yelp when they see a spider speed along the tiles of the Cathedral.

(S/O) "Aw man, it's going up to the ceiling!"

(Barbara) "I-It's not going to drop on our heads, is it?!"

The two exchanged a look that said neither were wanting to find out the answer.

Accepting defeat, the two quickly exited the cathedral out onto the plaza.

(S/O) "Do you think we could ask one of the sisters to help us?"

(Barbara) "U-Um...well-"

It didn't take long for either of them to realize that it'd be absolutely mortifying to ask a sister for something so trivial.

Instead, they decided to practice their singing outside.

Which arguably, was worse since spiders could be anywhere, but it didn't seem to cross their minds as they slowly became comfortable again and laughed the situation off.

Until the next day they forgot about it and entered the cathedral, only to be jumpscared by it as it sat on the pews they were at.

[cherrychilli]

18+

AFAB reader, cockwarming

A/N: A thought just worked its way into my mind like a hungry raccoon rustling through a trash can. I wrote this out in a hurry and I don't know what triggered this but here you go. Hope you enjoy this lil blurb.

Thinking of Steve who wants a new picture of the two of you together to keep in his wallet and your heart warms at the suggestion, immediately heading off to grab your polaroid camera. When you return you find him seated on your bed, beckoning you to come sit in his lap. You hand him the camera because his arms are longer than yours, cozying up close to him for the picture with your hair tickling his jaw and your face tucked by his neck. He aims the camera towards your faces in his outstretched arm, snapping the picture. You both watch it develop, a cute snapshot of the two of you, all smiles and sunny faces.

"What do you think? good enough to replace the old one?", you fan yourself with the picture, watching him mull over your question. "It's great but I think we can do better", he hints slowly with a glint in his eye. You squint your eyes at him in a quiet warning, pretty certain of what he has in mind. "Stevie, you're not keeping a picture of my tits in your wallet. Especially not after what almost happened last time", you remind him flatly. He laughs sheepishly at the memory.

A month back, Eddie Munson had swiftly picked Steve's wallet out of his back pocket with the intention of feeding one of the latter's dollar bills into the vending machine in exchange for bag of Lay's. Steve only mustered a half hearted grumble in response before remembering the picture of you he kept in his wallet. Technically, you were clothed in the photo but what made it strictly for Steve's eyes only was that the little white strappy tank top you were dressed in was completely soaked, your tits showing through the translucent fabric clearly.

He had several questions aimed his way when he swatted the umber wallet out of Eddie's ringed fingers just a second before the darker haired boy had a chance to flip the folded leather open. Chiefly 'What the fuck, Harrington?', but Steve ignored them all in favor of collecting his wallet off the ground before pulling out a five and holding it out to Eddie in recompense. Walking away with four bags more than he would have afforded with the single dollar, Eddie didn't press any further for answers and the instance was considered forgotten. At least to him.

"No, I wasn't going to suggest that", Steve assured you. "But if I'm being completely honest, I do miss having one of your secret pictures", he confessed, fingers dancing along your thigh. You scoff lightly, rolling your eyes at him. "Steve, you have plenty in that box under your bed. I'd know, I'm the one who gave them to you".

He shakes his head. "What I mean is that I miss having one with me. You know? being able to look at it whenever I want and where ever I am".

"Oh...", you soften. Besides the close call with Eddie, you did like knowing how much your naughty snapshot had excited Steve, especially when you saw the way he glanced at it whenever he opened up his wallet to treat you.

"So I was thinking...what if we took one that looked innocent? one that only you and I really know about?", he suggested with a hopeful gaze.

Your face scrunched, unsure of how a picture like that might be taken. "How?"

"Fuck fuck fuck", you chanted under your breath, knees feeling wobbly. "Almost there angel, you're doing so good", Steve kissed along your neck, breath fanning over your heated skin. His cock was a little more than half way inside you, stretching you open as you carefully sunk down until you reached his base. His fingers are still wet from scissoring inside you, smearing your waist with traces of your arousal as he curls the digits there under your dress. "Fuck, you feel amazing. You realize how hot this is?". You did. The way you're soaking his dick is evidence of that.

Seated in his lap with his cock sheathed completely inside you now, your head spun. Both from the fullness and the thought of no one else but the two of you knowing the truth about the picture you're about to take. Your dress conceals where you're both joined, your skirt spread out to further cover where Steve's jeans and boxers are pulled down around his mid thighs. He waits for your breath to steady before he picks up the camera, chin resting on your shoulder. "Ready, baby?", he coos gently, fingers rubbing soothingly at your waist. You swallow back a whimper when you feel him twitch inside you. "Yeah", you finally utter. "I'm ready".

"That's my good girl", he raises the camera once more, aiming it at your faces as you muster up a smile to match the one in your first picture.

"Just sit there and keep looking pretty for me"

[bucketsquid]

a tired octoling's advice for gold ???? salmon run rotations

so i'm in evp950-999 bracket right now and seeing people clearly not use their weapons correctly and it's kind of driving me bananas. i don't know why this is happening. but it makes me want to make a cheatsheet for Grizzco weapons and what they should be doing to make the shift smoother.

note that anyone can deal with maws because of how you dispose of them, same with flippers. "grounded bosses" refers to eels + big shots + scrappers (not steelheads bc you need range or piercing to get them).

so here's some weapon-based tips for anyone who may need them during the last few hours of big run + for later gold rotations:

grizzco slosher: like the explosher, a flyfish killer. hitting the cockpit of a flyfish with a gslosh projectile is an instant splat. aim well and move fast. prioritize flyfish. also armored bosses (drizzlers, steelheads, sometimes scrappers + lids) because you two-hit all of them regardless where you hit them. mind your ink, you have 4 shots on a full tank.

unless you have 3+ gsloshers in team comp, please don't waste your shots on fish sticks i beg you

grizzco brella & blaster: as rapid-fire, you need to help handle fish sticks and stingers the most; deal with them as they show up. but outside of that, you are the flexible team slot(s) and can generally handle a lot of threats.

grizzco roller: your speed and contact damage helps you destroy hordes of lessers as well as grounded bosses. use your speed to run eggs and revive teammates, too. your flick is slow and can easily get you splatted; use it to fell steelheads, ink fish sticks, etc in a pinch. you can also use your speed to set off slammin lids very safely.

also please note the knockback from running into scrappers, it can and will get you into trouble. ALSO this weapon completely trivializes Glowflies/Rush. move slowly at the swarm.

grizzco dualies: like the rapid-fire weapons, you destroy stingers; unlike them you can't climb fish sticks easily without help. work on thinning hordes of lessers, reviving teammates, running eggs and dealing with grounded bosses. your dodge roll is a very safe bet to get slammin lids to go off. PLEASE be mindful of where you end up after you're done dodge rolling or you will get splatted.

if you don't have anything better to do, just run eggs or throw bombs at flyfish.... but this is advice for most generalist and low-range weapons.

grizzco charger: first get used to spamming it at max charge. good? okay, you handle steelheads, slammin lids, stingers, and sometimes drizzlers. you can also spam shots at steel eels and scrappers pretty effectively. in a sense you are a generalist with a lot of range.

for the love of fax machine kamisama, DO NOT WASTE YOUR SHOTS ON FISH STICKS. DO NOT. even a groller will do it better and faster than you. ink the side of a fish stick for a teammate and go do something better. please

grizzco splatana: all power, no range. focus on armored foes like drizzlers + steelheads, grounded bosses and hordes of lessers. you can kill flyfish in a pinch but you risk being hit by their exhaust and they need to be on land.

grizzco stringer: another generalist/flex team slot. you have the reach for steelheads and slammin lids but you need to align your shots well to oneshot them. i suggest helping with grounded bosses + fish sticks + stingers and then doing general duties like bombing maws/flyfish, running eggs, reviving allies.

a lot of this does rely on your whole team having common sense and knowing what each weapon is best at. and that's not always reasonable in random queue! but if you know what you're doing, then you're already doing a great job. if you're doing your best and your team still fails, it's not really your fault. it happens.

be willing to be flexible based on team composition. sometimes you get 3 stringer 1 splatana and you just have to deal with it. i've had multiple 2 roller 2 dualies compositions this weekend... and had times where the only bosses that spawn in the first 20 seconds are flyfish, with no slosher present. you gotta do stupid things to survive and hit quota and that is okay!

but being informed about what each weapon can do is very helpful too. i hope i could help. :3 please feel free to add since this is just for normal wave!

[tacticaldiary]

I love your fics so much 😍😍😍 could you please write a ghost x wife reader where he has a nightmare about losing them

Solace For The Rough Nights

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"I killed you." It's a harsh whisper, almost involuntary, as if his body couldn't bear to keep the poisonous thought in a second longer. "Shot you straight through the head. I didn't-"

"I'm alive. Here. With you. It was just a nightmare, love."

Masterlist

Ghost was running.

Footsteps crunching on dried leaves, he weaves through the trees, shaking off the sounds of harshly barked orders, as crisp and as hold as the cold air around him.

The trees around him are densely packed together, a mixing pot of leaves, roots, and coarsely misplaced footsteps.

He can't remember how he got here, or what op he was on and it sends his normally razor-focused mind into a slight frenzy.

Ghost is a man of action. A plan and a way to execute it was all he needed to bring back a victory in tow, but right now he has neither of those things, hasn't even a bare recollection of ever having those things in the first place.

What was a Ghost without a purpose to haunt?

He stumbles.

It's already an odd situation. Ghost doesn't stumble or hesitate. He's a well-oiled machine, self-sufficient and cut-throat. Missteps are simply not viable with him, especially not something as simple as tripping.

Catching himself on his arm, he swings around, gun already aimed towards the ground, sees a vest-clad figure sprawled over the ground under him.

He fires without thinking. A bullet straight to the head, brain matter splattering the trees and forest, the expanse of his arms. The impact of the bullet jolts the body onto its back and-

Every part of him freezes in pure, undiluted horror.

Because his wife stares up at the sky, eyes unseeing, eerily still. Her hair bloodstained, splayed out onto the ground caught in twigs and branches, face filthy with dirt and crimson that he drew from her.

He's not sure when the trembling starts, only that it begins with his hands and travels up his spine, singeing his soul with a terror that would marr him forever. Circumstances completely forgotten, he drops to his knees in front of her, hands shaking as he calls out her name, pressing his fingers to her neck to find a pulse as if he hadn't just blown her brain out and-and fuck it was still on his arms, his hands, the blood was everywhere and there was no way Ghost had just taken the one thing he wanted to keep in his life-

A strangled sound leaves his lips, not a laugh and not quite a cry. He wants to laugh at the irony.

He's always been so afraid that someone would hurt her at his expense, that someone would take her away, tear her apart from him.

He never thought it'd be him who carried out the deed.

Nothing comes out of his mouth, because nothing can fix this. He gathers her into his arms, shaking silently. He deserves this, deserves to suffer in silence with what he's done.

The release of crying was not one he deserved.

"Fuck, I-...you're okay." His voice breaks, rough and gritty, and desperate. "I didn't-I swear I-..."

Someone's voice sounds behind him but he refuses to look back, letting the screaming in his head, the crescendo of grief consume him. His hands never let up from touching her, pressing her against himself as if his own heartbeat may bring her to life.

How could someone like her face the end when someone as disgustingly tainted and bloodstained as him continued on living?

It wasn't right, but then again, the world never was fair.

He registers he's panicking, knows that he can't quite get a full breath in and that the noise of talking is getting louder but death itself would be the only thing to take him away from her.

"..i..on."

He squeezes his eye shut, rasping out suffocating breaths.

"Simon...Simon!"

His eyes snap open, a strangled gasp tearing out of his throat. It's blindingly dark, and he's...there's hands on him. Steeling himself he sits up hazy and confused, lingering panic making his throat close up.

A click and the room fills with light.

Room. He's in...he's in his room. He's in their room.

"You okay?"

Her voice makes him shiver violently, ignites his frayed nerves. He's almost afraid to look over lest he find her bloody and mangled, because she was, wasn't she? He'd seen it, held her, felt guilt choke him and...

But there weren't any leaves here. No trees, and no blood on his hand (that was the first thing his eyes had snapped down to confirm.)

With a shaky breath, he finally turns his head towards her voice.

Some of the hastily built scaffolding inside him collapses at the sight of her. Alive. Well. Clean.

Worried.

Patient as always, she's waiting for him to get his bearing, not wanting to swarm and overwhelm him.

"Simon?" Her voice is a crack of softness a man like him doesn't deserve. The sheets rustle as she shifts closer. "You were tossing around, mumbling something." She furrows her brows, coming to sit in front of him. "You're all sweaty. Do you feel ill?" The back of her hand presses against his forehead, and the touch snaps something in him.

Breaks apart the harrowing gates of relief, but also smashes the wave of diluted panic he'd been too disorientated to feel.

His hand snaps to her wrist, a gentle and firm hold. Her eyes widen but she doesn't interrupt, lets him press his lips against her pulse point with trembling fingers. "You're all right." He breathes out, half to himself.

"I'm right here." She reassures him immediately. It loosens up his shoulders a little, but he still reaches out to her, pulls her close into a hug so crushingly tight it knocks the breath out of her.

She hugs him tighter, still.

Simon wasn't a hugger, so something must really have shaken him up.

"Hey..." She mumbles against his shoulder.

Simon pulls back, hands travelling up her arms, her shoulders, her neck, to press against her temples. His gaze flickers down to his own arms, then back to her head.

"Talk to me, baby." She says quietly, letting him ground himself. His hands tangle in her loose hair, weaving the strands between his fingers as if he might pick out phantom leaves and twigs. "Why so worked up?"

"I killed you." It's a harsh whisper, almost involuntary, as if his body couldn't bear to keep the poisonous thought in a second longer. "Shot you straight through the head. I didn't-"

"You didn't."

The sharp interrupting startles him enough to still his hands from where they've been mapping out her skin to ensure it was still unmarred.

"You didn't." She repeats. Gently untangling his hand from her hair, she brings it to press against her chest, right over where her heart is. "I'm alive. Here. With you. It was just a nightmare, love." She smiles and Simon feels his heart twist. The way she leans forward to press her lips to his is a kind of gentle he's still getting used to. "You're not getting rid of me any time soon." She whispers against his lips, a warmth that's a welcome reprieve from the shivers that wracked his body moments prior.

They sit there taking in each other's presence until Simon's thoughts slow from a sprint to a run to a walk, until the taste of copper, and the tang of iron fade from his senses.

Until it's just her, just them. In their bed, in their home. Off duty and safe.

When she slides her hands up to his shoulders, pushing him down he goes willingly, lets her straddle him. Never once do his hands leave her, they wrap around her hips to keep her steady.

"Tell me about it?" She asks, hands on his chest. After a moment of thought, Simon shakes his heavy with a long, heavy exhale.

"I'd rather not think about it." He rasps.

"It might help." The gentle shapes she traces on his chest give him something to latch onto. "I don't want you to deal with these nightmares alone." She snakes a hand up to his head, gently tapping his temple. "Don't want you to get stuck here without me. We're a team, right?"

"I suppose we are." He hums. Simon considers changing the subject, letting it go and falling back to sleep, but the need to get these vile thoughts out of him...

So he talks.

For once, he talks.

Simon tells her in halting phrases and clenched fists about what he remembers, how he held the gun, how there was no hesitation pulling the trigger.

His tension is met with hums and soothing circles rubbed onto his skin, keeping him with her even when he unravels the threads of his worst nightmare.

"I remember thinking how I was the one who took your life." He swallows harshly. "How I lost someone else...how it'd have been my fault." She doesn't comment on the fact that his grip on her hips has tightened considerably as he spoke.

"Well you haven't shot me yet, so I think we're safe for now."

Her attempt at a joke is met with a blank glare, but she snickers anyway. "Look Simon, if it'd be anybody I'd have liked it to be you-"

"No."

Her smile falters at the way he pushes up onto his elbows. "No?"

"I wouldn't..." He gathers his thoughts, clenches his jaw briefly. "I'd rather cut my own hands off, love."

"That's a bold claim, but-"

"It's a promise."

The conviction he says it with renders her speechless. His eyes so firm and determined and honest in the meagre light of their nightlamp sparks a warm heat through her, a reminder of how much she loves the man under her, of why she adores him.

He means what he says. It should scare her, someone so willing to go that far, but instead it's a fierce reassurance that her passion is returned. Maybe not in hugs or dopey smiles, but instead in moments like these, with promises that carve their way into their very bones, etching the proof of devotion into permanence.

She tips her head forward until their foreheads are pressed together. "I love you, Simon." She whispers. "So fucking much. I'm not going anywhere, alright. Not without you."

A hand wraps around the back of her neck, tugs her down to crash their lips together, the only affirmation she needs. He pulls her down until they're a tangle of limbs and breaths.

He doesn't need to say it back. Not when his hands burn sparks into her skin, when his arms around her guarantee safety and protection like nobody else can provide.

"You're here." He breathes, like he needs to.

"I'm here." A kiss pressed to the underside of his jaw. "I'm here."

And he finally believes it.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(16/08/2023)

[invertedspearofseveneleven]

Bedrest (boyfriend!Nanami Kento x fem! reader)

Summary: your boyfriend Nanami takes care of you while you're sick and on your period

CONTENT WARNING: Illness, period pains (reader) fluff, love even, Nanami loves you so very much it is almost sickening, short self-hate moment but nothing insane I promise

Author's note - I too am cramping so bad I'm awake at night, so I wrote this while delirious and missing a certain college friend (situationship across the fucking US? fuck) Needed Nanami to take care of my sorry ass

This is also my first JJK work, so pleasepleasepleaseplease give me your thoughts!

READ THIS ON AO3!! -

Thank you! Love you!

Sick. The sickest you’ve ever been on your period. Sure, you’d be stuffy or have a runny nose when your time of the month rolled around, but this was diabolical. Your head throbbed with a headache that no amount of water seemed to slow. Finally, you canceled your noon meeting and went home. NEVER before had cramps or illness made you leave your place of work. On the way to your car, you bumped into a familiar white-haired sorcerer.

“Y/N!” he shouted across the parking lot. “Skipping out?” You wince at his loud voice, but nod, sunglasses on to block out all unnecessary light from your pupils.

“Yeah, not feeling well.” your answer is short, not curt, but aiming for a sense of urgency. Your headache is fast changing to a migraine, and spots of blue light dot the side of your vision. Gojo doesn’t seem to notice. “I’ll call the funeral home, you’re obviously near death if you’re leaving this early.” he rasps out a laugh. Any other time, you would have laughed along, but right now, your focus is on getting home. As fate would have it, Gojo’s phone rings and he says goodbye before answering it. You smile and nod, moving quickly to your car and speeding out of the lot. 

Home isn’t far away, and out of habit, you drive without much thought. A good thing too, otherwise the mental strength to sit up, focus on directions, and not crash would have been too much. It would have been easier to sleep at your desk. 

The house is calm when you enter, and you hear Mino, your Ragdoll, meowing softly to you when the door shuts. You drop your keys, purse, and briefcase unceremoniously onto the table. Holding the edge of the counter, you move gently across the room, eyes on the couch. When you reach it, you flop down and pull blankets around you. Suddenly you’re freezing. Is there a window open? The blankets feel heavy and soft, but there’s no warmth to be found. Taking a deep breath, you get up off the couch, looking at the room. You move dishes to the sink, thinking that you’ll wash them. You remember the pile of dirty laundry in the bedroom, and get to it, only to drag what you can to the washing machine. There’s clothes inside, you flip them to the dryer, and pull the dry clothes into the laundry basket. When you start the machines and get up off the floor, you notice dirt and grit on your hands. The floor needs to be swept. Why is the house such a wreck? The thought of cleaning is stomach turning right now, and you feel tears push at your eyes.

Useless. Useless. That’s all you can  think of yourself. You can’t finish a workday, can’t imagine folding the warm laundry, hate the image of dishes in the sink, and your stomach is cramping so badly you can’t breathe. Dusting off your hands on your pants, you lurch, that’s the only word for the movement, holding the walls of the hallway, and lean into your bedroom.

You can smell his cologne still. You always leave before he does, so he gets ready long after you’re gone. He comes home later, and you would give anything to smell his warm skin, not just the memory of who’s hand sprayed the scent in the air. You crawl into his side of the bed, burying yourself under the heavy comforters and soft bedspreads. His smell wraps around you and lulls you to sleep.

You wake up to the door closing again. Mino had sat with you on the couch for a little, but when you fell asleep, she must have left for a different part of the apartment. You hear a soft thump when Mino jumps to the floor from what you assume to be her usual perch, a seat on the barstools by the counter. There's a jingling of keys, soft murmuring, and a crinkling noise. 

Bags? I just went to the store… 

You consider other possibilities, but none match up the way you need them to, and your head hurts like mad. You squeeze your eyes shut and push at your temples. You hear the door open, and Nanami joins you in the room, his presence so comforting, you don’t even have to look to know it’s him. “Go to mama.” His soft voice coos, and a weight joins you, padding near. Mino prods at your exposed ear with a cool nose. A curtain rod clinks and the familiar squeeeak of the unoiled window sounds. 

“Just some air. It’s a little stuffy in here, love.”

“Hi, Kento.” your voice sounds foreign, even to you. How long has it been since you spoke aloud? You try to clear your throat, but only succeed in coughing. You hear Nanami move to your side, joining Mino.

“Gosh, y/n…” He moves your hands to the side and feels your forehead. You can almost see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but it isn’t hard to read his emotions, he’s obviously very concerned. “You’re really warm.” He moves his large cool hand from your forehead to your cheek, and you can’t help but lean into it, chasing the cool it offers. Any other time, you’d make a goofy face and act entirely relieved, but now, the movement is genuine. 

Nanami shakes his head. He rises, moving out of the room. You watch him go, and pet Mino absentmindedly. In the next room, a bustling rises, ebbs, and ceases. The dishwasher can be heard opening. The sink turns on. A broom moves quickly. In five minutes, Nanami is back. His blue shirt sleeves are rolled to the elbow, and he has a small dishcloth over his shoulder.

"Did you get home and try to clean? My dear, what would the world do without you? Sicker than I've ever seen you, and still, you work. Well, now it's my turn." His light eyes shine at you, he must have taken off his glasses. He has such lovely eyes, you find yourself musing. 

“Thank you, love.”

Did I say that out loud?

You must have, but that’s besides the point. Still wrapped in soft blankets, Nanami picks you up gingerly, holding you against him and moving from the bedroom. The small sitting room area is clean as anything, how long had he been working? Maybe you had fallen asleep. 

Nanami places you gently on the couch, pulling the cloth from his shoulder. You notice it leaving a mark on the fabric, and when he applies it to your forehead, it's pleasantly cool from being soaked in sink water. The rush of cool on your feverish skin makes you pull the blanket you’re cocooned in closer around you, but deep down, you know that you need to cool off before you overheat. Nanami has disappeared into the bedroom again, and you close your eyes, hoping to fall asleep again. 

You wake up again in Nanami’s strong arms. He crosses back into the bedroom, taking care not to let you bump a wall or a doorframe. The windows are wide open, the fan is on, and the bed has been stripped and remade. 

“Let’s get you into something more comfortable.” He whispers, placing you in a seated position at the end of the bed. Checking to see you’re stable, he turns to the closet and dresser. Looking down, you realize you’re still in your button down and dress pants. Lord, you must really be sick.

“I- can’t, can’t miss work…” you trail off as Nanami turns to you with a gentle look that seems to say really? 

“That’s all you can think of right now? My love...” He pulls open a drawer and looks through it, his back to you. “Let’s get you changed, and if you feel better in the morning, I promise we’ll discuss you returning to work.” He turns back, a large, soft looking t shirt in hand. It’s yellow, your favorite color.

He looks at you, then your hands, with an oddly furrowed brow. Leaving the room, he spots what he was searching for, the discarded towel, on the floor next to the couch. You hear him rewet it at the sink, before coming back and picking up where he left off. Pressing a slow kiss to your head, he kneels by the bed, taking your hands in his.

The large, cool, square palms feel incredible against your arms, and you’re tempted to sit like that for hours, soaking in the cool of his skin while you shiver for your blanket. Slowly, Nanami moves your hands to the collar of your shirt. “Unbutton that for me.” The command is simple, and you realize that, in any other situation, it would have been EXTREMELY hot. For the time being, you decide to tuck that thought away to bring up later. The shirt is wrapped around you strangely, probably from the crash you had when you got home. When it’s loose enough, you pull it up over your head. Nanami is ready, taking it from you and sliding the t-shirt over you. He deftly flips the dress shirt into the laundry basket, and moves a hand behind you, unclipping your bra through your shirt. The movement is so natural you find yourself shocked by its simplicity, and laugh, a short bark followed by a cough. You take a breath, a freer one, and move the undergarment off gently, under the shirt.

But your laugh is enough for Nanami, who sees his lover through the veil of illness. He smiles at you, and leans forward to kiss you. Your hands fly up on their own, and you chastise him between giggles and short coughs.

“No WAY I’m getting you sick, mister.” “No better way I can think to spend a weekend with you.” His soft eyes are aimed right at your lips, even though his words are  sent right to you. 

“So, sick and achy? I simply can’t allow this.”

“I’m risking it.” He leans forward and kisses you slowly. You laugh around the kiss, moving your head away and blushing as he sprinkles kisses all across the bridge of your nose. He’s smiling too, you can feel it. In a practiced move, though handled now with care, he hooks his hands into the sides of your pants, refusing to break the kiss. The waistband slips down, revealing your legs and making goosebumps prick on your skin. 

Once your pants are completely off, leaving you in your black, everyday underwear, Nanami moves to stand above you, scooping you up again. You wrap your arms around his neck, cradling his face in your hand. The lines of his cheekbones and jaw are etched into your memory, a mix of angles and shapes that is so strange to consider being comforting, and yet… 

Sitting you down onto the cool, light blanket, Nanami takes the re-wet washcloth to your flushed skin. He trails it across your decolletage, down your neck, along your arms and legs, and over your face as well. The trace coldness on your skin that it leaves in its wake is exactly what you need, and you sink a little lower onto the bed. Nanami smiles softly, happy to see you get a bit of relief. He tucks you in, under only one blanket instead of the pile he found you under.

“I know it may be uncomfortable, but trust me, it will help the fever break. The kettle just boiled, and I’ll make you some tea, so sit tight.”

The command is again, said with loving intent, and makes your heart float a little. He slips from the room, and you hear a beep and the sound of water pouring. Leaning back, you relish the feeling of cool, while missing some warmth. Nanami is back quickly, carrying some medication from the drugstore and a mug of sleepytime. 

“When did you-”

“Gojo gave me a call about your rather hurried exit today.” He answers, a hint of a laugh in his voice. He places everything on the bedside table before moving out of sight behind the door frame, and you hear his voice fade slightly before returning. 

“I- well, this is actually a little embarrassing. I’ve been tracking your cycle for a while now, and I noticed that your immune system tends to take a hit right at the start of your period. And, um, with cold season hitting its peak, I had an idea of some things you might need.” He’s been looking at the ground, and you can see that he’s half proud and half… something else. Ashamed? “I swear I didn’t think it was going to be this bad, I just wanted to come by with everything you’d need. Or, well, want.” from behind his back, Nanami pulls out a plush cat, similar to Mino in every way but two. One, it’s grey, not white. And two, it’s, um, portly. It looks like it weighs more than you’d expect. Nanami scoots next to you and places it on your stomach, eliciting a soft gasp of surprise from you. It’s weighted, for sure, but it's warm too. “You put it in the microwave. The saleswoman said it was full of rice and lavender, and since you like lavender I thou-” You cut him off, moving as quickly as you can over to him and pulling him down to you. He laughs at the sudden fall, but then gasps, rolling off of you. “Hey! You’re in a lot of pain, I’m not crushing you, too. Are-” He cuts himself off now, looking at the figure holding him and, shaking? 

“Y/n, darling, are you crying?”

You are, the tears pushing hot trails down your face. Your breath is shaky, and there’s something about this whole situation that makes you laugh.

“You’re so, sniff, you’re so wonderful.”

Nanami’s eyebrows knit together, and he smiles, pulling you closer to stroke your hair softly. His other hand lays flush against your back, and he begins gently running his kept nails against it, massaging your tired muscles. “Only for my girl.” He kisses your forehead and rests his cheek against the warm skin. “You work too hard not to be taken care of AT LEAST once a month.” He gives you a squeeze before leaning to the table and picking up the mug of tea with the tiny cup of cough syrup. 

“Now take a sip for me, and shoot this back, you’ll feel better.”

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Physical Fitness

[at the beach] Sonia Greene: oh howard this was such a lovely idea! Greene: a romantic seaside picnic and just the two of us! Greene: and we've got your favorite food right here - untoasted white bread! Greene: isn't this nice? HP Lovecraft: [sweats, stares at ocean] right sure

HP Lovecraft: Hey! Quit kicking sand in our faces! Sonia Greene: that man is the worst nuisance on the beach! Aleister Crowley: [grabbing Lovecraft] listen here, I'd smash your face, only you're so skinny you might dry up and blow away!

Crowley: [to greene, as he manhandles lovecraft] look babe, why don't you drop that zero and get with the hero Crowley: i'll show you how a real man kicks sand in people's faces! Crowley: THE GREAT BEAST!!! DO AS THOU WILLT!!!!

Lovecraft: The big bully! I'll get even some day! Greene: oh don't let it bother you, little boy Greene: i'll fix you up a nice big meal, put some meat on those bones Lovecraft: and that'll help me build muscle? Greene: [sweats] um muscle? um sure yeah muscle

Poe: howard, you need to stop letting aleister pick on you Lovecraft: but he's twice my size! he's all buff cuz of all the mountain climbing! Poe: you could start working out? Lovecraft: you mean physical labor? Lovecraft: sport?! Lovecraft: [sweats] like a common cornishman?!?

Poe: you should try it Poe: a good regimen of rowing and swimming helped me build mass Barker: oh come on edgar Poe: no really! Poe: [removes shirt, revealing he is super swole] Barker: Barker: oh right Barker: right i forgot about that

Mary Shelley: listen up nerd you don't need exercise Shelley: what you need is one of these [flips switchblade] Poe: oh come on mary, what if he gets attacked when he doesn't have knife on him? Shelley: dunno, that's never come up

Shelley: next time aleister gives you shit, you give him one of these [pantomimes shivving] Poe: mary, violence never solved anything Shelley: it does if you're good at it Poe: Barker: ah ha ha she's got you there edgar

Lovecraft: Darn it! I'm sick and tired of being a scarecrow! William Hope Hodgson says he can give me a real body. all right! i'll gamble a stamp and get his free book Lovecraft: i'll just not eat this week to afford the stamp

William Hope Hodgson: are you "fed up" with seeing the huskies walk off with the best of everything? Hodgson: sick and tired of being soft, frail, skinny or flabby? Hodgson: i know because i myself was once a puny 97 pound "runt" Hodgson: today, I am two separate gorillas

Hodgson: give me 5 weeks and my body building plan will turn YOU into the bronzed adonis you were meant to be Hodgson: through a dynamic combination of cardiovascular training, lifting big kegs, and standing in the desert while getting your balls tanned by an ultraviolet machine

Lovecraft: wow, how's you get so buff?? Hodgson: from constant brawling during my navy days Lovecraft: w-wait Lovecraft: you're a sailor?? Hodgson: yeah you should know from my popular lecture series about how much the navy fuckin sucks ass Lovecraft: [sweats]

Hodgson: ugh, i tell you Hodgson: it's just impossible to pay the bills with pseudoscience fitness programs catering to mens' insecurities Hodgson: i'm gonna pivot to weird fiction instead Hodgson: that's where the big money is

Hodgson: what if a bunch of pig men attacked a big house Smith: [on phone] hey clark ashton? it's me! your cousin! marvin smith! Smith: you know that new horror genre you're been looking for? Smith: well, listen to this! [aims phone at hodgson]

[esperderek]

New RPG.net owner liked tweets from RFK Jr, Tucker Carlson, and more...

Just left RPG.net, that venerable old tabletop rpg forum, a forum that I've been a part of for 20+ years.

Recently (in March), it was bought by RPGMatch, a startup aiming to do matchmaking for TTRPGs. In the past couple of days, despite their many reassurances, I got it into my head to look up the new owner Joaquin Lippincott, and lucky for me he has a Twitter! (Or X, now, I guess.)

Yeah...the first warning bell is that his description calls him a 'Machine learning advocate', and his feed is full of generative AI shit. Oh, sure, he'll throw the fig leaf of 'AI shouldn't take creative jobs.' here and there, but all-in-all he is a full-throated supporter of genAI. Which means that RPGnet's multiple assurances that they will never scrape for AI...suspect at best.

Especially, when you check out his main company, https://www.metaltoad.com/, and find that his company, amongst other services, is all about advising corporations on how to make the best use of generative AI, LLMs, and machine learning. They're not the ones making them, but they sure are are helping corps decide what jobs to cut in favor of genAI. Sorry, they "Solve Business Problems."

This, alone, while leaving a massive bad taste in my mouth, wouldn't be enough, and apart from his clear love of genAI his feed is mostly business stuff and his love of RPGs. Barely talks politics or anything similar.

But then, I decided to check his Likes, the true bane of many a people who have tried to portray themselves as progressive, or at least neutral.

And wow. In lieu of links that can be taken down, I have made screenshots. If you want to check it yourself, just find his Twitter feed, this isn't hidden information. (Yet.)

Here's him liking a conspiracy theory that the War on Ukraine is actually NATO's fault, and it's all a plan by the US to grift and disable Russia!

Here's him liking Robert F. Kennedy Jr. praising Tucker Carlson interviewing Vladimir Putin!

Here's him liking a right wing influencer's tweet advancing a conspiracy theory about Hunter Biden!

Former Republican candidate Vivek Ramaswamy talking about how he wants to tear down the Department of Education and the FDA (plus some COVID vaccine conspiracy theory thrown in)

Sure did like this Tucker Carlson video on Robert Kennedy Jr... (Gee, I wonder who this guy is voting for in October.)

Agreeing about a right-wing grifter's conspiracy theories... (that guy's Twitter account is full of awful, awful transphobia, always fun.)

Him liking a tweet about someone using their own fathers death to advance an anti-vaxx agenda! What the fuck! (This guy was pushing anti-vax before his father's death, I checked, if you're wondering.)

So, yes, to sum it up, RPG.net, that prides itself as an inclusive place, protective it's users who are part of vulnerable groups, and extremely supportive of creators, sold out to a techbro (probably)libertarian whose day job is helping companies make use of generative AI and likes tweets that advance conspiracy theories about the Ukraine war, Hunter Biden, vaccines, and others. Big fan of RFKjr, Carlson, and Putin, on the other hand.

And, like, shame on RPG.net, Christopher Allen for selling to this guy, and the various admins and mods who spent ages reassuring everything will be okay (including downplaying Lippincott's involvement in genAI). Like, was no research into this guy done at all? Or did y'all not care?

So I'm gone, and I'm betting while maybe not today or tomorrow, things are going to change for that website, and not for the best for anyone.